Complex simplicity in the art of Yunizar

An encounter with the work of an Indonesian contemporary artist.

Whilst at Art 13, I came across a startling pair of canvases (pictured above) by an Indonesian artist, Yunizar. The way they had been exhibited on two parallel walls, made them line up like the pages of a book on approach to the booth of Gajah Gallery. They formed part of a larger series titled “Kisah,” which, translated from Bahasa, incidentally means story.

Each canvas was populated with cartoon-like drawings of human figures and animals, interspersed with single words and letters. The latter was much denser, with a roughly textured band of red pigment running across the top, surrounding a small sun. As my eyes passed over each canvas, they tried to “read” Yunizar’s intriguingly coded story. The seemingly simply rendered characters and scribbled letters signposted an almost primitive, uninhibited, and pure materialisation of expression; and I was reminded of the Lascaux cave paintings in South-western France.

The stark contrast of the pigments with painted surface alludes to a similar visual trope as printed word on paper; it reels the viewer in, for a closer look, until they reach a similar proximity to the paintings as a person reading a book.

Close-ups of the paintings. (Image Courtesy: Jasdeep Sandhu, Gajah Gallery)

A discussion with Yunizar’s gallerist and dealer, Jasdeep Sandhu revealed a more complex contextual web in which Yunizar’s work operates.  Sandhu explained that Yunizar’s generation of artists was a confrontation between the dominant tendency towards realistic painting and newer, progressive forms of art-making.  His experiences as a cultural and linguistic outsider in Java, where he migrated from his home in Sumatra, influenced the function of his work; communicating more directly with his audience through universally recognised symbols. This sensibility is quite similar to another artist I quite admire, Yinka Shonibare, who in a recent interview in TimeOut London highlighted how he found it “intoxicating” when viewers of his work felt less pressure to “know too much about art to actually engage with it”. 

I came across a third Yunizar canvas in this booth which was equally curious.

Yunizar, Left, Right, Up, Down, 2013, 200 x 250cm (Image Courtesy: Jasdeep Sandhu, Gajah Gallery)

It featured a male and female figure highlighted in chrome yellow, standing between two dark painted hemispheres. I couldn’t help but think of the story of Adam and Eve, or at the very least the way we often view the world in terms of personal and material priority. The possibilities for interpreting these canvases were manifold and undoubtedly enjoyable.

On asking about Yunizar’s presence and viability as a collectable artist, he smiled and explained the expanse of his collector base within the Asian region. Along with private collections and museums, Yunizar’s paintings can be encountered at the Singapore Art Museum and National University of Singapore Museum. These three canvases alone left a lasting impression on my mind and I look forward to seeing more of his work on an international scale.

 

 

Yunizar, Kisah, 2013, acrylic on canvas, 200 x 250 cm and Yunizar, Tentang Merah (about red), 2013, 200 x 250cm. (Images: Gajah Gallery)
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So much for "the table never lies" – data unravels football's biggest lie of all

London side Brentford FC are using data to rethink the usual football club model.

It’s a miserable day for practice, the rain spitting down on the manicured training pitches of Brentford Football Club. Inside a tiny office marked Director of Football, Rasmus Ankersen is waiting for his phone to ring. The winter transfer window closes in 11 hours and there are deals to finalise.

Ankersen, a 33-year-old Dane with a trim beard and hair pulled into a small ponytail, seems relaxed. Perhaps he knows that the £12m transfer of the striker Scott Hogan to Aston Villa is as good as done. Or maybe his comfort comes from Brentford’s performance this season. The small west London club sits safely in the top half of the second tier of English football – at least according to management’s own version of the league table, which is based on “deserved” rather than actual results. Officially, on 31 January, when we meet, the team is 15th of 24.

“There’s a concept in football that the table never lies,” says Ankersen, whose own playing career was ended by a knee injury in his teens. “Well, that’s the biggest lie in football. Your league position is not the best metric to evaluate success.”

Brentford are an outlier in English football. Since the professional gambler Matthew Benham bought a majority share in 2012, they have relied on the scientific application of statistics – the “moneyball” technique pioneered in baseball – when assessing performance.

The early results were positive. In 2014, Brentford were promoted from League One to the Championship and the next season finished fifth. That same year, Benham’s other team, FC Midtjylland, which is run on similar principles, won the Danish Superliga for the first time.

Yet in 2016 Brentford slipped to ninth. Despite the disappointing season so far, Ankersen insists the strategy is the right one for “a small club with a small budget”.

Underpinning Brentford’s approach is the understanding that luck often plays a big part in football. “It is a low-scoring sport, so random events can have a big impact,” Ankersen says. “The ball can take a deflection, the referee can make a mistake. The best team wins less often than in other sports.”

In a match, or even over a season, a team can score fewer or more than its performance merits. A famous example is Newcastle in 2012, says Ankersen, who besides his football job is an entrepreneur and author. In his recent book, Hunger in Paradise, he notes that after Newcastle finished fifth in the Premier League, their manager, Alan Pardew, was rewarded with an eight-year extension of his contract.

If the club’s owners had looked more closely at the data, they would have realised the team was not nearly as good as it seemed. Newcastle’s goal difference – goals scored minus goals conceded – was only +5, compared to +25 and +19 for the teams immediately above and below them. Statistically, a club with Newcastle’s goal difference should have earned ten points fewer than it did.

Moreover, its shot differential (how many shots on goal a team makes compared to its opponents) was negative and the sixth worst in the league. That its players converted such a high percentage of their shots into goals was remarkable – and unsustainable.

The next season, Newcastle finished 16th in the Premier League. The team was not worse: its performance had regressed to the mean. “Success can turn luck into genius,” Ankersen says. “You have to treat success with the same degree of scepticism as failure.”

Brentford’s key performance metric is “expected goals” for and against the team, based on the quality and quantity of chances created during a match. This may give a result that differs from the actual score, and is used to build the alternative league table that the management says is a more reliable predictor of results.

Besides data, Brentford are rethinking the usual football club model in other ways. Most league clubs run academies to identify local players aged nine to 16. But Ankersen says that this system favours the richer clubs, which can pick off the best players coached by smaller teams.

Last summer, Brentford shut their academy. Instead, they now operate a “B team” for players aged 17 to 20. They aim to recruit footballers “hungry for a second chance” after being rejected by other clubs, and EU players who see the Championship as a stepping stone to the Premier League.

It’s a fascinating experiment, and whether Brentford will achieve their goal of reaching the Premier League in the near future is uncertain. But on the day we met, Ankersen’s conviction that his team’s fortunes would turn was not misplaced. That evening, Brentford beat Aston Villa 3-0, and moved up to 13th place in the table. Closer to the mean.

Xan Rice is Features Editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times