Captain Hate
Captain Hate

Captain Hate and the Golden Babies @ HAUNT

A new art space is launched in a back alley off Argyle Street, Glasgow. Known as HAUNT, it’s a smelly little corner of the city perfect for doing things you don’t want others to know about and will play host to a new performance by Captain Hate called The Golden Babies and the New Aesthetic – which sounds in every way terrifying. We ask the Captain to shed a little light on the event
Event preview by Andrew Cattanach.
Published 12 May 2011

Who is Captain Hate and why should we care?

Captain Hate's majestic nihilism is renowned throughout the land and your self-destruction is his forte. He’ll play on your insecurities like he would a Couchet harpsichord or a Kreutzer Stradivarius. He will take pleasure in fucking you over and fucking you up. Captain Hate is everything you’ve ever wanted in a man and a little bit more – a little bit more degradation (yours), a little bit more weakness (yours), a little bit more... hate.

Is this the Captain's first appearance?

Captain Hate is everywhere and nowhere (baby).

Does Captain Hate hate a lot of things? Is that why he’s called Captain Hate? Or is he a more caring individual?

Captain Hate wallows in the emotional spoil heaps littering the Dear Green Place.

How did you get involved in HAUNT and what do you understand HAUNT is?

HAUNT is a celebration of the lost and the reforgotten. HAUNT, like Captain Hate, is a manifestation of Glasgow's Secret Dread.

What will you be doing on the night? I hear there will be a performance. Is this true?

Friday the 13th of May is the inaugural event in a series of ritual tableaux designed to Make Glasgow Miles Better or die trying. On the night an offering will be made to the Giant Weasel God Kamaitachi.

Will there be anything left for people to see later or will it all be done and dusted on the night, leaving no trace?

The Golden Babies will spread around the city like a plague of little shining avatars, reminding us that it is oh so good to be alive. Oh, and all turds will turn to gold.

What is the title all about? What are these golden babies and what is the new aesthetic?

The Golden Babies are cute little psychopomps leading the people of Glasgow toward A New Aesthetic that teaches us how to appreciate the deep mysteries redolent in the Everyday. This New Aesthetic transcends the redundant either/or ness of our current mystico-materialist paradigm, moving towards a limitless realm that stretches beyond the perceived limits of time itself!

How do you feel about being in that horrible, shitty alley with all the gallons of piss and hep B lying around?

Captain Hate has used that alleyway more than once...

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  • Captain Hate, The Golden Babies and The New Aesthetic

    Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
    Cannot bear very much reality.
    T.S. Eliot

    On Friday the 13th of May around 40 people gathered down a dark, dark lane in a dark, dark place to witness the first in a series of performances and works by Captain Hate under the title of The Golden Babies and The New Aesthetic. In an interview, which was published in the Skinny the day before, Captain Hate made some bold, comedic and flippant claims. Intriguingly this interview was not with the artist but with a character created by the artist. At this point in history there can probably be no such thing as a new aesthetic however this performance has quite possibly marked the beginning of a new wave of Glasgow artists.
    On arrival in Haunt space those who got there a little early were confronted with what seemed to be a pre-destroyed installation. On their social networking site Haunt state, “Exhibiting within a Haunt space will lead to opportunities for artwork to be stolen or destroyed.” Occupying the space were four individuals who had presumably given this opportunity to Captain Hate by destroying the installation before the performance. At first glance they appeared to be very good method actors, however as events unravelled it became clear that they were more dedicated to methadone than avant guarde theatre practices. This is a natural characteristic of the space. There are no security cameras and the gallery offers just enough privacy to either shoot up or hold an art event in the heart of the city centre. The kindly art activists gracefully left to allow the performance to take place and the audience to enjoy and ponder their intervention. By this point the atmosphere had an edge and the perfect tone had been set for the arrival of Hate.
    In broad daylight Hate strolled up to the Old Wynd with his knee length black wig swaying like a dull pendulum between the wind and his swagger. He took centre stage in the space and with his back to the audience began to make a very strange noise. The sound was produced by blowing through blades of grass. It sounded like a cross between a birdcall and a fox during mating season. The audience were already nervous and the performance played up to this. Hate moved around the space, getting a little too close to members of the audience. The sound echoed and bounced sharply around the gallery and at one point a seagull appeared to be conversing with Hate as it squawked in response to his calls. The performance drew to a conclusion with the Captain moving into a tunnel that connects the space to Argyle St. The walls of the tunnel were adorned with poems written, like the interview, by the fictitious character. The sound of the grass changed as he moved into the tunnel, it became less animal and more human. I almost expected to hear the dulcet tones of Mark McManus crying, “there’s been a murdur.” The sounds of a crime scene faded away and Hate vanished into the city.
    A few yards from Haunt lies the shiny jewel in the thorny crown of the Glasgow art scene where on the same evening the Modern Institute opened with Turner Prize nominee Martin Boyce. As is the way with all Tute openings the place was so full it was difficult to take in the art. Boyce’s work demands and deserves time and space for contemplation. What was immediately apparent however is that Martin Boyce is an artist of such skill he could convince you that concrete blocks might taste of honey if you licked them slowly enough. His exhibition was atmospherically lit by a light installation that hovered gently beneath the Modern Institute’s skylights, which had been altered to turn day to night, (nuit américaine). This work was a sensuous melancholic teardrop spilled for Scotland’s missing histories of modernism within fine art. This exhibition provided an interesting contrast to The Golden Babies and The New Aesthetic. In one evening a couple of yards apart it was possible to witness the breadth of art in Glasgow right now.

    Posted by Anon | Saturday 14 May 2011 @ 15:11

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