Link
to complete online PDF review
Sean
Lowry,
Broadsheet Vol.36 No.1, Adelaide, 2007
"Philip
Brophy's Fluorescent is a music video, starring the artist himself
as the embodiment of a Glam Rock hero: that sexually slippery icon who turned
macho hard rock on its head in the early 1970s and never looked back. For
Glam was about the future: a glittering, tin-foil future of space
travel and fluid identity, where anyone could fly to the moon or
be a star, as long as you had the right outfits. Glam's celebration
of surface image formed the precursor to the explosion of music video
in the early 1980s, a form that experienced a brief flowering of
intense, raw-edged creativity before sinking into a generic soup
of expensive effects and glossy marketing campaigns. In the spirit
of this early moment, Brophy's pop star is riotously rough, favouring
pancake makeup over airbrushing and swagger over choreography.
Driven
by throbbing surround sound and split across three screens,
Fluorescent plays with the crucial yet awkward relationship between
music and image. Featuring both the full mix and remixed versions
of the song, the work severs this connection at several points when
the sound drops out as the video performance continues, throwing
a focus onto the elaborate artificiality of Brophy's act and the
constructedness of our aural and visual perceptions. A widely published
writer and theorist on sound and cinema as well as a filmmaker and
sound artist, Brophy encourages one to 'think with one's ears' when
watching a film to appreciate the sensory and psychological properties
of sound, which transcends its generally conceived supporting role
to the image.
Fluorescent also derives from Brophy's long-held fascination with genre-busting
cultural forms - Japanese Manga, horror films, Glam Rock, pornography - as
well as their insidious influence, seeping into and transfiguring
so-called 'high art' and popular culture alike. Each form stretches
or dissolves the body in one way or another, reducing it to an amorphous,
polysexual entity that defies easy categorisation and forces a reconsideration
of our own drives and mortality. From his early short films such
as Salt Saliva Sperm and Sweat (1987) to his horror feature Body
Melt (1993) to his ongoing series of pop video 'interventions' in
Evaporated Music (2000- ) - in which the music track is replaced
with a series of sound effects, leaving the singer to flail unsupported
within the video narrative - Brophy has pulled the body apart to
reveal its bare, brutal essence, removed from comfort and civility.
He shows us the body as an abject, desiring machine, yet with its
own horrific beauty. "
Russell
Storer, 2006 Singapore Biennale catalogue
"No
one could accuse the (Singapore) biennale curators of playing it
safe. At Tanglin Camp, on the city's outskirts, the Melbourne artist
Philip Brophy takes genre-hopping to a new and bizarre level in his
hilarious music video Fluorescent. The artist camps it up as a "polysexual" glam
rocker who trashes accepted notions of cultural and sexual identity
- and demands justice, tongue firmly in cheek, for the convicted
pedophile Gary Glitter.
Mark
Chipperfieeld ,
Sydney Morning Herald, October 11th 2006
"An eternal present, an absence of memory and a dissociation of
words, symbols and images from meaning: these are the symptoms of the
‘schizophrenic’ social condition diagnosed by Frederic Jameson
in his 1983 essay “Postmodernism and Consumer Society” (Hal
Foster ed, The Anti-Aesthetic, Bay Press, Seattle, 1983). Twenty years
on Jameson’s diagnosis has even more credence,
so it is no surprise to find (a) recent installation
(...) at the Art Gallery of New South Wales responding
to this aspect of contemporary experience (...). Sound
artist, filmmaker and writer Philip Brophy pays homage
to the androgynous theatricality of early 70s glam rock
with Fluorescent,
comprising a circle of 5 speakers in front of 3 simultaneous
video projections. Ever-changing lines of colour play
across the screens, bringing to mind the video clip for
Plastic Bertrand’s 1978 pop classic Ca plane
pour moi. Brophy periodically appears out of this swirling matrix sporting
spiked hair, thigh-high shiny vinyl boots and a ball-hugging leotard.
He mouths a few risque lines before disappearing, until the backing
band kicks in on his fourth appearance and he performs a specially-penned
glam rock anthem. The
various tracks that comprise the song are separated across the ring
of 5 highly directional speakers, which means the song sounds quite
different depending on where you stand in the circle. The extreme separation
between the sonic components of the soundtrack highlights the self-consciously
manufactured nature of Brophy’s “Fluorescent” persona.
The overall effect is of loud, vulgar, theatrical fun, and many viewers
burst into spontaneous laughter at the sight of Brophy’s gyrating,
larger than life form. Glam
was always about celebrating the brash disposability of pop culture
and the performative aspects of identity. In this sense, Brophy’s
work doesn’t do anything that glam itself didn’t do in the
early 70s. But he takes familiar iconography and places it in a gallery
setting, creating resonances beyond the world of popular music. Glam
here is no longer a knowing reconfiguration of existing images from
the realm of popular culture, but rather a trope unto itself that has
entered the infinite matrix of images comprising contemporary experience.
Brophy’s joyful performance celebrates the arbitrary
recycling of the past and the freedom of employing symbols
and icons divorced from their original context and meaning. Fluorescent (...
is one side ...) of the postmodern coin. Brophy’s work
celebrates the notion of self as nothing but the endless
recycling of symbols and styles already in circulation. (...)
.
Daniel
Edwards, Realtime No. 60, Sydney, 2004