Miran Mohar on Thu, 1 May 1997 23:07:29 +0100 |
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Syndicate: IRWIN 1 for Oliver Fromer |
This is a response from Borut Vogelnik, a member of the Irwin group, to the letter of Jan Aman (curator of the Interpol exhibition) in response to the Letter of support concerning Alexander Brener's action in Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam (signed by Eda Cufer, Goran Djordjevic, Irwin - Dusan Mandic, Miran Mohar, Andrej Savski, Roman Uranjek, Borut Vogelnik. In E-mail IRWIN2 is enclosed also an interview with Jan Aman and Viktor Misiano concerning Interpol show in Stockolm in February 1996. Interview was a part of Irwin project for the same show. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------- EXCHANGE VALUE AND THE ACT OF DESTROYING ARTIFACTS Jan Aman, the organizer and one of the curators of the Interpol project, which took place in Stockholm more than a year ago, expresses surprise that Irwin and Eda Cufer are surprised about the position and content of "An Open Letter to the Art World." For those not familiar with this letter, it was sent by Aman and a group of artists and critics immediately after the events of the project exhibition opening. Our opinion, though collective, is really a personal one, and one of the possible interpretations on the Stockholm event. Why is Jan Aman surprised? Is it possible that he doesn't understand that "An Open Letter.." is also just another personal interpretation -- this one sent to all important offices of contemporary art community? Actually he gives evidence of having understood that, simply by defining his comment as his own version. But why, then, is he so provoked by facing another version, or shall we say vision of events? When the "Open Letter..." he signed is characterized by us as something "primitive and nonchalant" (though perhaps "opportunistic" would be a better definition), he replied that "An Open letter.." was a "sign of action, as well as that of Alexander Brener". He himself obviously accepted a definition that "An open letter" can be as primitive to some interpretations as Brener's act was primitive to the position and interpretation he defends. "An Open Letter..." makes it very clear that Brener's act was regarded as primitive and unacceptable form of art in a "democracy" to those who signed it. But can we say that the whole conflict was only a clash of two types of primitivism? It's very peculiar that in his comment on our assertion that Wanda Go's work destroyed the established rules of the project (by being, as even the authors of the Open Letter confirmed, " ...the main and central installation of the exhibition..."), Aman answered with the rhetorical question "What if there were no rules?" We are faced with a very complex situation here. There are numbers of versions of the event in Stockholm which can be equally truthful. But as a matter of fact, I don't agree that there were no rules. And if rules existed, it follows that it's possible to find out who actually broke them. To do that we first have to check some facts: At the beginning of our collaboration (which encompassed the Stockholm meeting of 1994 and Moscow meeting of 1995) we all agreed that the exhibition was supposed to grow out of dialogue and interaction -- an interactive relationship of one artifact toward the other. Another rule was also supposed to ensure equal conditions of work for all participants of the project. Finally, and perhaps most importantly: It's also true that, as early as in Moscow in 1995, we accepted the rule that any artists is allowed to make a physical intervention into the work of another artists -- and that it is for the potentially "violated" artist (or his colleagues) to prevent, or allow, a certain possibly destructive action. Discussion about this question was stimulated by Anatoly Osmalowsky, Mauricio Catalan and Alexander Brener who at that time were collaborating on a joint project within the Interpol framework. I don't remember the exact details of the concept they presented of their project, but I do remember that Osmalowsky had the idea of himself playing the role of giving orders for physical intervention into the presented artifacts, that Brener was supposed to execute his orders, and Catalan was supposed to protect the artifacts from Brener. We all had trouble accepting the logic of this project at the time, but finally we accepted the specific relevance and specific possible symbolic language it could have, as well as its relevance within the direction of the whole project as proposed. Osmalowsky for some reason didn't participate in the end, Catalan proposed a new project, and Brener actually did exactly what we spoke about -- and agreed to -- a year ago. Something that we agreed would be possible and permitted. In other words (and this bears repeating, given the context of this letter): We constructed our project incorporating the possibility that individual work within it could potentially be destroyed or modified by somebody else. As for Aman's opinion that Irwin and all the Russian artists knew in advance what Brener was planning to do, we can only ask him and the public to believe our word that we didn't know anything about Brener's plans. We talked the night before the opening about the possibility that Brener was preparing a surprise; Vadim Fishkin and Juri Leiderman were present during the discussion. It was quite logical, if you knew his previous work, to predict that Brener would do something unexpected, though nobody knew exactly what that might be, the evening before it happened. Aman stated that regardless of the various discussions before the opening, nobody questioned the concrete concept of the exhibition. This is not true. The night before the opening there was a dinner as a part of the Gutev project, in which Alexander Brener commented that the concept of the exhibition from his point of view was a compromise and failure. On the other hand, the role of Oleg Kulik (the "Dangerous Dog") in this scandal is even more symptomatic of the rules question. He was invited to participate at the last moment, therefore he didn't participate in previous discussions. He was invited directly by Jan Aman and Victor Misiano -- an action which already broke the first rule of the project, a rule which stated that Jan Aman and Victor Misiano, the two curators of the project, were to chose a group of artists from Moscow and Stockholm; those artists were than asked to invite other artists from international community to collaborate on their project (and on the project as a whole) through regular three year meetings. Irwin were invited by Vadim Fishkin, and our two projects were conceptually interconnected. Only Kulik was invited by the organizers to present an old project, the concept of which was to perform as a dog. Before Stockholm, Kulik had already caused some scandals with this performance, by attacking the audience and ending up in the custody of the Swiss police. It's clear, therefore, that Aman -- who obviously was well aware of these events -- accepted the very real possibility that Kulik would repeat the whole menu he had ordered. Including biting -- something a dangerous dog does, and by definition. In fact Kulik was on a chain during the opening, and there was a written warning that he was a dangerous dog. The audience obviously didn't take the warning seriously: they saw a man and not a dog. Less understandable was the behavior of a curator already well aware of that dog's history of behavior. Aman's "surprise" that Kulik, an artist who had decided to be a dog, would also behave as a dog, gives rise to the possibility that he simply didn't take Kulik's art seriously. Could it be that he invited him for some other reason than art? Kulik's action becomes an ontological subject matter exactly because the artists' seriousness about his own role was underestimated. How to otherwise explain Aman's reaction, of kicking him during the opening -- an action one takes towards a disobedient dog? By kicking Kulik in his dog/human head, Aman legitimized Kulik as the former. Later somebody even called the police to discipline Kulik. Aman is right when he said that there is no reason for us to be surprised by Wanda Go's work. It is true that there were no rules about exactly how the exhibition was supposed to look, but there was a rule allowing mutual interference -- the ability to physically intervene -- into the artifacts comprising part of "Interpol." Moreover, there was also an agreement that the organizer would provide equal conditions for the realization of these artifacts. It was understandable and accepted that the budget was not big; we were all ready to adapt our needs to the existing financial resources. The sizes of each individual project were to have been defined well before the project opening; the organizers would then have to calculate equitable space, etc. The fact is that all the Swedish projects, together with Wanda Go's, were finished even before we arrived in Stockholm. Some of them were very expensive, dealing with high technology or high-tech design solutions. It is completely understandable that Swedish artists worked at home and were therefore more involved in the fund-raising process; these artists were able to work in their studios using ordinary means of production. What is not so understandable is that only two projects out of seven on the so called "Eastern side" were even completed. For example: a) The project of Juri Leiderman was only partly realized -- specifically the part he managed to finish in Moscow. b) Dimitri Gutev stated that the garbage and detritus left on the table after dinner the night before the opening was the substance of his project (the purpose of the dinner was a discussion about the Interpol project and our conceptual relationships to it and each other). Gutev therefore asked that this material be left on the table as his artifact, but the organizers nevertheless cleaned the table. Let's take the charitable view that that the organizer did so because of some local law on hygiene; even given that circumstance somebody should have explained that to Gutev, who on the day of the opening discovered that part of his artifact ended up in the garbage. Meanwhile the other part of his artifact - the video film of the dinner - mysteriously disappeared. As the organizers explained, somebody had "lost it." Gutev's entire contribution to Interpol ended up "in the garbage. " c) Regardless of all promises that the organizer would provide international telephone lines for Vadim Fishkin's project, no lines were available on the day of opening. Fishkin's project also remained 100% unrealized. d) Due to some complication with his visa Anatoli Osmalowsky didn't manage to come to Stockholm, so he sent instructions for his project by fax. e) Four months before the opening we sent detailed plans to the organizers, who promised to built our mobile vehicle -- a key component of our artifact -- with the assistance of a group of students. A few days before the opening there was still no vehicle anywhere in sight, and we were forced to use a vehicle of incorrect dimensions, adapted by ourselves just days before the opening. As a result we had no time to work on the video which was to be the most important part of Irwin's contribution to the project. (We were also only partly present at Gutev's dinner for the same reason, and thus our collaboration with others in Interpol was compromised.) And since we were also working in collaboration with Vadim Fishkin, his inability to do his project effected and damaged ours as well. And this is not all. A few days before the opening we discovered that FargFabriken, the organization sponsoring Interpol, had organized another opening on the same evening as Interpol -- and in a room of the Interpol exhibition space! Startled Interpol participants found in this room an exhibition of Russian socialist industrial design. Despite lack of money and time to finish the Interpol project (which they were ostensibly supporting), FargFabriken found enough of both to make gleaming display cases for these artifacts. What's more, there were no sign separating this exhibition from the main body of Interpol -- visitors would have been hard-pressed to know that they were not part of the same project. In fact, as Interpol was based on the Stockholm-Moscow relationship, and as the achievements of science, technology and design plays such a large role in the mythology of modern art, it was quite hard to get rid of the feeling that these two exhibitions didn't open on the same day by accident. Could it be that they were part of the same exhibition in the minds of the organizers? A few questions have to be posed: 1. How are we to understand that all the projects of the artists from the so called "Eastern group" -- people who, because they were guests in Stockholm, clearly required the assistance of the organizers -- weren't realized? Wouldn't it be accurate to say that, as was discussed in detail well in advance, the organizers were also responsible for the realization of these projects? 3. Is it not possible to say that if these projects were not properly realized, then they were not complete -- and therefore were damaged? 4. Is it not possible to say that if the organizers didn't realize the project according to previously held agreement, that these same organizers damaged or even destroyed those projects/artifacts? The only two finished projects by the so called "Eastern group" were those by Brener and Kulik -- and both of them were stigmatized as unacceptable. Why? Obviously not because the organizers were ignorant of the work of Kulik and Brener. I would suggest that it was because the type of art performed that evening broke certain preconceptions and expectations of the organizers. The video interviews Aman and Misiano gave for Irwin's project say a lot about their different "expectation horizons" -- something connected mostly to different visions of interaction with the so-called international art community. (See appendix of the transcribed parts of the interview) Other questions which can be posed after reflecting on the Interpol scandal in the context of the international exchange of value include: 1. How to understand the exchange value of the symbolic function of artifacts in the art distribution system. 2. How to treat the act of destroying artifacts. Both of the above are also the main questions connected to Brener's latest act -- in which he spray-painted a green dollar sign over a Malevich painting in the Stedelijk Museum. I will say something more about my view on the above two questions in the second part of the letter, but first let's finish this first part with a comment on some accusations, specifically that Brener's act as "fascistic" and that Brener himself is a fascist. The day after Brener's act in Stockholm, Oliver Zahn, editor of Purple Prose magazine and one of the initiators of " An Open Letter...", changed this stigmatization into a question in the press conference, posed directly to Alexander Brener: "Are you a Fascist? " Well, I would like to add my answer on this question by posing another question: Is the curator who physically attack an artist whom he invited to the exhibition while the artists is performing a fascist? Or not? With his act, the curator didn't attacked only Oleg Kulik the person but also Oleg Kulik the artifact. For me a more logical explanation than fascism would be that he simply lost his nerve. The unbearable ease with which somebody can be accused of fascism can be explained by another example, this one drawn from the political and historical present. During the recent war in ex-Yugoslavia, Serbia was accused of being a fascist country because of its genocide of the Bosnian Muslims. Genocide, apparently, is impossible in democratic societies. In the symposium titled "Living with Genocide", which I participated in Ljubljana, some political theorists disagreed with this conviction, as well as with the definition of Serbia as a Fascist state. They stated that Serbia acted within all standards of "direct democracy". In fact they argued -- using many examples -- that genocide was more the rule than the exception in the historical establishment of existing democratic states. How is it that we could forget that genocide is not purely a fascist project? Democratic genocide exists, and obviously it is a historically legitimized way to get and maintain power. The accusation of being a fascist is often used as a stigmatization of, exclusion of and action against the Other -- one which functions as an admirably effective way to maintain cohesion within one's own group, society or civilization. II Let's leave aside the fact that it is quite questionable how it is, exactly, that the Stedeljik Museum found itself in possession of Kazimir Malevich collection of Suprematist paintings. Let's not discuss here the fact that Kazimir Malevich's art works have more in common with Orthodox icons than his western interpreters are generally ready to admit (in Orthodox -- and by extension Russian -- tradition icons are objects which contain the possibility of their own death; their physical destruction, however, has its own set of regulations. Only evil icons, for example, can be destroyed without these rituals). Let's rather focus on some other facts regarding Alexander Brener's latest destruction of an artifact. Alexander Brener sprayed a dollar sign on a Malevich work titled "Suprematism" which was not his personal property. By his own interpretation he did that as a protest against the alienation of art and artifacts, which increasingly speak only the language of money. After his act he called the guards, and confessed his act of damaging another's property. For that he was accused and legally prosecuted. But nevertheless it can be surmised that informed public opinion held that his act was an irreparable desecration of an artifact which constitutes part of the spiritual inheritance of humankind. (Irreparable because the restoration allegedly couldn't remove tiny green drops which penetrated deeply into the painting, and which will forever be visible through a microscope.) It's interesting to note the widely held opinion that money distorts and perverts art. There are many artist and art lovers who will agree that the basic qualities of art are a proclaimed humanistic direction and purity of statement. As a protest against what could be called "money civilization", Alexander Brener's act becomes partly understandable to those who hold this kind of perception. But at the same time, this is followed by a certain discomfort at taking this interpretation so seriously. The fact is that for quite a time now, the exchange value of art fits readily not only into the very logic of production of art but also into the systems of evaluation and distribution . In the name of pure art (to take only two more recent examples), Mark Kostabi and Jeff Koons were both widely criticized. Windows of a gallery where Kostabi exhibited were broken; some people stated, after a Jeff Koons show, that the exhibition was excellent but that artifacts were lousy. Similar statement can be found in the writing of George Dicke: "...as a work of art Duchamp's ready-mades may not be worth much, but as examples of art they are very valuable for art theory... A work of art in the classificatory sense is (1) an artifact (2) a set of the aspects which has had conferred upon it the status of candidate for appreciation by some person or persons acting on behalf of a certain social institution(the art world)." Daniel Buren: "The museum/gallery instantly promotes to 'Art' status whatever it exhibits with conviction, i. e. habit." Artists and art lovers on the one hand defend the humanistic qualities of art and on the other are forced to accept the exchange values which organize the topology of art. At the same time, they are against acts of destroying artifacts in the name of what they ostensibly believe: that art works are the spiritual heritage of all humankind. By this the logic of the contemporary art system is accepted by a wide consensus, which inevitably gives authority to those who select what will and will not receive this status -- i.e., the status of worthy object. The existing art system -- not only the logic of art distribution practiced by it, but art's various developmental paths (i.e., styles, phases, "-isms") -- are chosen and supported in advance as the direction to be taken by art in the future. It is based on a method of selection defined by Immanuel Kant in the Critique of Judgment: "The present investigation of taste, as a faculty of aesthetic judgment, is not being undertaken with a view to the formation or culture of taste, which will pursue its course in the future, as in the past, without the help of such inquiries." Therefore even though the described selection process is based on the decisions of qualified experts, it is also based on personal judgment -- not on absolute measures established exterior to the art world frame. As for art, Marcel Duchamp stated: ".. the word 'art', etymologically speaking, means to make, simply to make. Now, what is making? Making something is choosing a tube of blue, a tube of red, putting some of it on the palette, and always choosing the quality of blue, the quality of red, and always choosing the place to put it on the canvas, it's always choosing. So in order to chose, you can use tubes of paint, you can use brushes, but you can also use a ready-made thing, made either mechanically or by the hand of another man, even, if you want, and appropriate it, since it's you who have chosen it. Choice is the main thing." But what does the art system do with all the art works that are not chosen, not selected to become a part of its corpus? It simply destroys it. Thomas McEvelly described this social force of selection by stating: "The essence of the modernist ideology that underlay the half-millennium in question was that it had to be exclusionistic. In order to justify the outward expansion of European superiority. This was effected in the early period, that is the Renaissance and Baroque, by essentially theological ideas, such as the supposed imperative to baptize the heathen for their own good, no matter how much control you had to exert over them to do so, no matter how much violence you had to do to their cultures, their resources, and their bodies." If Brener is accused by saying that the green paint remaining deep in the fabric of Malevich's painting after his act (and the restoration of the painting) renders the audience unable to see the exact work Malevich painted, it is also true that there are an infinity of paintings which can not, and will not, be seen by those same spectators. And it is also true that the whole potential opus, the directions, the "isms" which could have developed under different circumstances will never be developed. Walter Benjamin stated that any document of civilization is at the same time a document if barbarism. It appears that exchange value and the destruction of art are two sides of the same "coin." If we accept that the artifact is finished when the artist physically stops working on it, than we must also accept that the art system destroys artifacts simply by excluding them, and that this is an inherent logic of any system. The other possibility is that we decide that the artifact is not finished in it's physical form, but that the art system creatively finalizes every artifact through the process of choice. Therefore: 1. The art system is not a neutral entity but in fact is an active partner in creation. It is a creative force. 2. The supposition that people will not be able to see the Malevich original any more after Brener's act is not relevant, because the physical work of Malevich was still in a process of creation long after it left Kazimir Malevich's hands. Brener's sin, crime, or whatever anybody wants to call it, is not that he desecrated a painting but that he entered a territory of creation under the domain of a reigning institution of the existing art system. His action enlightens a certain paradox. Brener's act didn't negate the market exchange value of Malevich's painting, but the opposite. It is exactly because of the mechanisms of the exchange that his action can be perceived as art. Borut Vogelnik Ljubljana, March 20, 1997 continue...