Wednesday, August 14, 2013

reenactment art 2.0 : the remounting of legendary exhibitions

further to previous post on Art's "Historical Turn", a NY Times piece today on the remounting of the 1969 Bern, Switzerland show When Attitudes Become Form at Prada Foundation, Venice, this summer.

"What’s new in contemporary art? Old. We’re in an age of remake culture, an epidemic of re-enactment fever. Young painters are working in styles that were hot half a century ago. Yesteryear’s performance art is being re-performed. Exhibitions that have been done and done — on Matisse, Picasso, European abstraction — are being done again.



"Has the art industry, noted for its nanosecond memory, suddenly become history-conscious? Is the art market, like Hollywood, nervous about anything but proven brands? Is art just plain out of ideas? Whatever the answer, the replicants keep arriving, a recent and particularly ambitious one being an ultrafastidious reconstruction of the 1969 show “When Attitudes Become Form,” at the  Prada Foundation in Venice

"The original version, which took place in Bern, Switzerland, has a near-mythical reputation as a late-20th-century landmark. It brought together some of the most adventurous young European and American avant-gardists of the day, exponents of post-Pop, post-Minimalist, supposedly anti-market trends like Conceptual and Process art. It presented them at a high moment of political and cultural turmoil internationally, and in what has been perceived as a radically loosened-up exhibition format, with art created communally, spontaneously, on the spot."..."

And the remake occurs in a context characterised by the absence, or outright inverse, of all those things!

The writer Holland Cotter notes that some of the work was so abrasively radical, outraged staff  "effectively forced the resignation of the institution’s director, Harald Szeemann, who was also the exhibition’s curator.Too late. Word had spread through the art world. The show — its full title was “Live in Your Head: When Attitudes Become Form: Works, Concepts, Processes, Situations, Information” — was instant history, a radical moment."

Contrast "created spontaneously, on the spot" with  Prada Foundation's archivist graft - "laboriously tracking down existing art, commissioning artists to recreate pieces and asking the estates of deceased artists to supply duplicates of lost or fragile work" - to build a Monument to the (Passed) Future. The art world equivalent to "Giorgio By Moroder". An anti-Event, anti-Rupture.

The Venice show is a partial replica of the entire space of the original exhibition:

"The Bern galleries have been reconstructed on exact one-to-one scale within the palazzo, but are spread over three floors, rather than two, as in Bern. In addition, the kunsthalle annex, the Schulwarte, which in 1969 held work that arrived too late for the main show, has been reimagined as a loftlike space on a fourth floor. And while details of the Bern galleries — door frames, floor designs, all-over white paint, even radiators — have been copied, the gallery walls are treated like stage flats, with their edges cut out as if with a jigsaw, to accommodate the palazzo’s ornate columns and cornices. Also, the inserted galleries have no ceilings: Look up and you see 18th-century Italian arches and frescoes." 

Cotter finds some merit in this huge, involved, scrupulous undertaking, including discovering that:

 "far from being a countercultural bootstrap affair, the show floated on a cloud of money. A selection of documents displayed on the Prada foundation’s ground floor reveals that Philip Morris, the tobacco company, footed a chunk of the bill, in an early example of big business wearing avant-garde art as a feather in its cap....  enshrined by history, now re-enshrined by Prada, [the original exhibition] was not quite the avant-garde ideal it was cracked up to be....  It was the end of a brief, illusory effort by art to create an existential economy outside the market, and the beginning of art business as we know it now"

Maybe such demystification and disillusionment is useful, I dunno. One thing's for sure though, nobody will look back to the Prada reenactment in years to come.  A reenactment abdicates itself from the field of possibility out which which myth and legend, now and then, emerge.  

"its inability to grasp or even look at the present, much less to excavate the future"


"In the present moment...  it appears that a number of artists seek to define art first and foremost in the thickness of its relationship to history. More and more frequently, art finds itself looking back, both at its own past (a very popular approach right now, as well as big business), and at “the” past in general....  The retrospective, historiographic mode—a methodological complex that includes the historical account, the archive, the document, the act of excavating and unearthing, the memorial, the art of reconstruction and reenactment, the testimony—has become both the mandate (“content”) and the tone (“form”) favored by a growing number of artists (as well as critics and curators) of varying ages and backgrounds. They either make artworks that want to remember, or at least to turn back the tide of forgetfulness, or they make art about remembering and forgetting...." 


from "The Way of the Shovel: On the Archeological Imaginary in Art" by Dieter Roelstraete, in E-Flux journal


So retromania really is a culture-wide syndrome. Or rather, a bundle of overlapping and mutually exacerbating syndromes, each with their own discrete trajectory and origin point, but effectively meshing in the early 21st Century to form a sort of panoramic predicament, a cultural landscape.

This sort of thing sound very familiar to those who've followed leading-edge music this past decade or so:

"The pervasive interest of so many younger artists and curators in the very notion of anachronism or obsolescence and related “technologies of time”: think of Super 8 mm and 16 mm film, think of the Kodak slide carousel, think of antiquated, museum-of-natural-history-style vitrines meant to convey a sense of the naturalization of history..."

(An art-world trend also noted in Claire Bishop's much-discussed Artforum essay of last year, "Digital Divide")

Way of the Shovel contains as well a swipe against trend for "micro-historiography":

"Virtually every little “thing” has become the subject of its own (strictly “cultural”) history of late, from the pencil to the zipper, the cod, the porcelain toilet bowl, the stiletto, the potato, or the bowler hat. It does not require too great an imaginative effort to discern the miserable political implications of this obsession with detail, novelty, and the quaint exoticism of the everyday (best summed up by the dubious dictum “small is beautiful”)."

time travel according to Disney kids TV, part 1

blurb: "When Teen Zoltan arrives in a time machine and falls in love with Chyna, he refuses to go back to the 80's without his true love, so Chyna decides to accompany him back as his prom date. Meanwhile, Lexi hopes to travel back in time to correct a horrible event from the past, an ugly 5th grade picture in a newspaper"



Some fun 'retro' elements to this episode -  when Chyna time-travels back to 1986 with Zoltan-as-teen, and he asks "come with me to the prom", she worries aloud "but what will I wear?".  He suggests "how about what you've got on?", and Chyna retorts "can't do that -- in my time this outfit is Seventies-retro. But in the Eighties, this is just out of date."

 At the prom itself, she marvels "it's the Eighties! Wow, the Eighties are so....  Eighties"

This is proved by a 1986-girl's Valley-Girl-ing it with "totally" after "totally" after "totally", and the prom band, whose members play keytars!

Chyna sings with the band and when they struck up a song, she exclaim, "really, this song?!!?! My mom listens to this song on Oldies 107", then blurts hastily, "I mean, Newies 107".

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

"You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, 'Why not?'"

One thing I've been intrigued by for a while, but not pursued in any systematic way, is the phenomenon of the writer, artist, musician, film maker, etc who is an absolutely towering and central figure in their era, but then rapidly fades in prominence after their death, and is nowadays hardly ever thought of or referenced, let alone used as an influence or a starting point by successors.

Equivalents in rock history include Eric Clapton, once the focus for adulation on the level of the widely daubed graffiti slogan "Clapton Is God" ... but nowadays? Who today under the age of 40 (or even 50)  would actually listen to, let alone be influenced by Eric C?  Okay, he is not actually dead (not literally... artistically, perhaps). A properly deceased equivalent who has experienced a similarly swift eclipse of stature, a total demotion from the canon,  and who appears to have no progeny whatsoever: Janis Joplin.

In literature, there are many examples, but the one that fascinates me is George Bernard Shaw.

Usually one picks up little bits of knowledge about these sort of Eminences, even if you never actually get round to reading them, but until I looked at Wikipedia just now I wasn't aware of the extent of my non-informedness about G.B. Shaw.

With the exception of My Fair Lady, I don't think I've knowingly read or watched a word of G.B.S. He was already off the curriculum when I did English Literature at school in the Seventies. I don't think I've ever had a conversation with anyone in which Shaw even  cropped up.  Oscar Wilde has rarely dipped in his relevance levels since he popped his clogs, but you hardly ever run into a G.B. Shaw buff.

Yet Shaw was a literary titan in his time; a tireless text-generator (churning out plays, novels, essays, criticism, including music criticism - he had trenchant opinions: completely up Wagner's arse he was, but contemptuous of Brahms, albeit later to recant). Socially and politically engaged. Thorn in the side of the establishment. Outspoken. People then might not have liked him but they probably imagined he would continue to loom large for decades, even centuries, afterwards.

(Another one of the same ilk is G.K. Chesterton *. The work-rate of these dudes is always staggering, humbling).

Anyway the thing that blew my mind a bit -- and it's where the quote in the title, "You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, 'Why not?**
 - comes from, is reading about Shaw's science fiction drama cycle  Back to Methuselah. Written just after the First World War and performed in the early 1920s, B to M

"consists of a preface (An Infidel Half Century) and a series of five plays: In the Beginning: B.C. 4004 (In the Garden of Eden), The Gospel of the Brothers Barnabas: Present Day, The Thing Happens: A.D. 2170, Tragedy of an Elderly Gentleman: A.D. 3000, and As Far as Thought Can Reach: A.D. 31,920..

In the preface, Shaw outlines his belief in "creative evolution" and proposes that humanity requires much longer lifetimes (such that a century should barely be middle age) for the accrual of wisdom. 

The first two plays are BC and present time, and then the third "The Thing Happens" leaps to 2170.  Things get progressively more barmy.  The final instalment is called "As Far As Thought Can Reach: A.D.31,920, in which "Humans evolve to the point of becoming free-ranging vortices of energy, able to wander, solitary, through the Universe, thus requiring no government at all".


And this was staged? In theatres? Audiences sat patiently, reverently, through it? 

The sheer scale of it reminds me a little of Olaf Stapledon's Last and First Men


Not surprisingly there's no Youtube clips of B to M being staged...  Although the BBC did do it as a drama series in 1952, and it's been on the radio!


*  Chesterton also wrote a science fiction novel of sorts - The Flying Inn (1914), "set in a future England where the Temperance movement has allowed a bizarre form of "Progressive" Islam to dominate the political and social life of the country. Because of this, alcohol sales to the poor are effectively prohibited, while the rich can get alcoholic drinks "under a medical certificate". The plot centres on the adventures of  Humphrey Pump and Captain Patrick Dalroy, who roam the country in their cart with a barrel of rum in an attempt to evade Prohibition, exploiting loopholes in the law to temporarily prevent the police taking action against them. Eventually the heroes and their followers foil an attempted coup by an Islamic military force"

** "You see things.... Why not?" is often attributed to Bobby Kennedy, who used it in a speech.  Supposedly he noted its source before uttering. On the internet, J. F.K. is also said to have said it, and Teddy Kennedy (in the eulogy for Bobby). Confusing, and all serving to further erase G.B.S.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Bruno, maestro of the retro-nuevo promo


Bruno Mars even accepts showbiz awards in a retro style!



(is that meant to be Barry White?)

more Bruno retro promos....







and a little bit of analogue media fetishism in this one



this one has a bit of vintage / shabby chic / cool old shit vibe to it too