Monday, 4 February 2013

on some motifs in Herbert Marcuse

 





















The Congress of the Dialectics of Liberation, held in London in 1967, was a unique expression of the politics of modern dissent, in which existential psychiatrists, Marxist intellectuals, anarchists and political leaders met to discuss - and to constitute - the key social issues of the next decade. Amongst others Stokely Carmichael spoke on Black Power, Herbert Marcuse on liberation from the affluent society, R. D. Laing on social pressures and Paul Sweezy on the future of capitalism. In exploring the roots of violence in society the speakers analysed personal alienation, repression and student revolution. They then turned to the problems of liberation - of physical and cultural 'guerrilla warfare' to free man from mystification, from the blind destruction of his environment, and from the inhumanity which he projects onto his opponents in family situations, in wars and in racial conflict. The aim of the congress was to create a genuine revolutionary consciousness by fusing ideology and action on the levels of the individual and of mass society. These speeches clearly indicate the rise of a new, forceful and (to some) ominous style of political activity.

Saturday, 2 February 2013

the image of Jonas Mekas
































‘... the incurable imperfection in the very essence of the present moment’

Wednesday, 11 July 2012

Grupo de texto poético



Work submited by Grupo de texto poético, Spain, to the exhibition Arte Postal, Bienal de Sao Paulo, 1981, organized by Walter Zanini and Julio Plaza

Claes, what is a happening?








































Robert Pincus-Witten: Claes, what is a happening?

Claes Oldenburg: A happening is a breaking down of the barriers between the arts, and something close to an actual experience. It should be a very free form, a very ambiguous and suggestive form. I think it's filled with unexplored and primitive possibilities. I like it to be that way - like it to be as unpredictable as possible.

…  I think the happening is a potential work of art. I talk of it all the time as a composition or work of art. But maybe that’s not so important. Maybe it’s more important that it’s a certain experience: simply sitting and watching in an isolated way something that’s very familiar. I’d like to get away from the notion of a work of art as something outside of experience, something that is located in museums, something that is terribly precious. I’d like to think of a normal, natural experience in terms of a work of art. I don’t think the notion of the detached work of art – this aristocratic work of art – is a very useful notion anymore. People don’t want that. They suffer with that notion and they would prefer to have a redefinition of art in something closer to themselves.

… a Western audience has to have explanations. They really can’t watch anything for its own sake. They have to have an explanation first or a reason for watching it. They really don’t watch a thing. They follow an idea as it unravels, and everything represents the unravelling of an idea. The happening, as I practice it, creates a lot of discomfort for the audience. It’s an attempt to rattle them out of the notion that they are going to watch a play or an idea unfold. I try to make them uncomfortable to a certain degree, to make them bored to a certain degree, and to make them receptive to a new way of looking at things.


The Transformation of Daddy Warbucks: An interview with Claes Oldenburg by Robert Pincus-Witten 1963.

Thursday, 21 June 2012

on subversive practices: C.A.D.A.

Colectivo de Acciones de Arte (C.A.D.A.) No + 1983

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Reading Ulises Carrión

Ulises Carrión performing To be or not to be 1976


























During the years that Ulises Carrión spent in Amsterdam from 1972 to 1989, he produced a wide variety of works that employed almost all the late 1960s and early 1970s forms of distribution: books, films, radio shows, print editions, mail art, conferences, talks, and festivals, calling into question the status of the artwork as a unique object and defusing single authorship by offering collaborative projects. A selection of Carrión’s work was recently on view at the Showroom offering a rare occasion to have a peek into his personal worlds and cultural strategies. Arranged in a modular display system inspired by the cardboard vitrines designed by Martha Hellion for the Fluxushoe exhibition that toured the UK in the early 1970s, there was a selection of Carrión books and videos, from Looking for poetry to some of his most celebrated video works, such as The Death of the Art Dealer and Card Song. Following the same spirit of collaboration and spontaneous gathering that characterised most of his work, the exhibition culminated with a re-enactment of The Lilia Prado Festival, a reassessment of one country’s cultural values and stereotypes, and the possibility of translating them to another cultural context.

A former poet, Carrión was interested in the structural, spatial and visual potential of language. His early works such as La muerte de Miss O 1966 or De Alemania 1970 connect with a tradition of artistic and poetic practices that extends from the Cubo-Futurist and Dadaist legacies, to the Concrete and Fluxus poets of the late 1950s and early 1960s. In this tradition, language rids of its semantic burden increasing its material perception and acquiring a formal autonomy that intensifies its plasticity and objecthood. The destruction of meaning in language had a great impact in the structure of the book, which remained being a container of texts but now these could or could not be literary; they were open to the articulation of new systems of signs.

Carrión’s work soon distanced itself from the literary practice to formulate the definition of ‘what a book is’ which is best developed in his notion of bookworks, ‘books in which the book form, a coherent sequence of pages, determines conditions for reading that are intrinsic to the work.’ His essays, The New Art of Making Books 1975 and Bookworks Revisited 1979, are eloquent articulations of new systems by which to present language under different forms. In his writings, he appeals to the ability that everyone has to understand and create signs and systems, setting up notions of what a book is by opposing radically to the traditional genres of novel, theatre or poetry. For Carrión, every book allowed for a different type of communication, and it was the conviction that each book produced and conveyed a different effect or message that led him to experiment with other media, applying the same logic throughout his work.

In 1975, he opened Other Books and So a bookshop specialised in the production and distribution of artist’s books, that was also an archive and an exhibition space, where artists gathered and exchanged ideas, and where performances, lectures and other events would take form spontaneously. Carrion’s interest in the production of artist’s books wasn’t so much in tune with recent claims about the democratisation of the artwork, or about making it accessible to a wider public (as it has been the goal of earlier artist’s books), rather he was experimenting with ways of devising a work of art that could incorporate its own distribution as a formal quality. Central to his work was the relationship between communication and distribution, and when he opened Other Books and So it was clear that he was trying to have some control over the production and distribution of his own work. ‘Where does the border lie between an artist’s work and the actual organisation and distribution of the work?’  he would ask himself, reaching the conclusion that distribution should be an intrinsic part of the work, not because this would make it more democratic or accessible, but because only when the art work includes its own distribution it becomes something else, its form serves its own purpose. Accordingly, he organised a series of Mail Art exhibitions, such as Definitions of Art 1977 and Erratic Art Mail International System 1977, which offered an alternative to the official mail system, and where he drove the attention from the aesthetic value of the object to the fact that Mail Art was a unique way of controlling the production and distribution of art. Distribution becomes a formal element of the final work, determining its physical appearance, while at the same time emphasising the relationship between form and function.

Mail Art was also a strategy to integrate and incorporate other artists’ works to his own, bringing together different views and opinions, and renouncing to just one way of representing things. Similarly, he started to experiment with different media, such as video and film, performances and festivals, devising what he referred to as cultural strategies in which the artist’s ‘personal world’ would gain a social reality by being exhibited and thus becoming a cultural event. Carrión was using culture as a broader concept than art, including non-aesthetic elements, as he explained, culture was ‘the coordination of a complex system of activities occurring in a social reality and including as well non-artistic factors: people, places, objects, time, etc.’[1]

He became more interested in mass media and in how communication operates at different levels and through different channels. The video Aristotle’s Mistake 1985, a documentary in which reality and illusion are blurred, was conceived to be broadcasted in television, ‘a frame that makes everything equally real. If it’s on TV it’s not art, it’s real’. Once again, the distribution of the work would have an impact in the nature and formal qualities of the very same work. In an earlier video, Gossip, Scandal and Good Manners 1981 Carrión experimented with marginal communication, in this case, gossip. The work consisted in launching a piece of gossip with the help of a group of friends. The project lasted more than three months, and it also consisted of a lecture on gossip in the University of Amsterdam, and a video-work as a conclusion. This work contrasts with the informality with which gossip is originated and transmitted and it gives an insight into Carrion’s ideas about language and communication, his fascination with identity, his interest in everyday life, and the importance of his friends in his works.

In 1984, Carrión produced The Lilia Prado Festival one of his most successful works, which makes us reassess more contemporary art practices that engage in originating social events and gatherings, and that facilitate a dialogue among diverse communities outside the confines of the institution or gallery. The Festival was a tribute to the Mexican actress Lilia Prado, an idol in the Mexico of Carrión’s youth, and it included the screening of Prado’s films together with parties, cocktails and music. The Festival generated extensive press coverage and attracted great number of people. By organising this Festival, Carrión intended to raise questions on identity and cultural values, and more specifically on how one can translate a cultural stereotype; how does a star from a given culture translate to another culture with different values. With this work, Carrión activated a social situation that connected with the historical avant-garde ideal of blurring art and life, while at the same time it brought about many questions on the dematerialisation of the artwork and its anti-market nature, and more importantly, about single authorship and collaboration. He considered the Festival to be a ready-made, a work from which he could withdraw, a work that offered him the possibility of disappear: ‘My ideal as an artist’ he said, ‘is to become invisible.’[2]


Text by Carmen Juliá


[1] Ulises Carrión, ‘Personal Worlds or Cultural Strategies’, Second Thoughts, Amsterdam 1980, p.51.

[2] We Have Won! Haven’t We?, exhibition catalogue, Museum Fodor, Amsterdam 1992, p.79.