Link to the article in A*DESK

The Ruhr area in Germany has been transforming its industrial character into a new cultural identity for some time now. The status of cultural capital for the entire area and the first edition of a biennial centred on light are the most recent examples of this process.

All cities try to find their plus point of interest to attract capital in the form of investments, production, companies or tourism. Development, in short. Culture has always played a prominent role in this panorama and not only in recent times (it was no coincidence that the first edition of Documenta took place in Kassel), although it has been in recent decades that these dynamics have intensified. And obviously, the biennial format is ideal in this context. A clear example is Manifesta, the nomadic European biennial that began its journey in Rotterdam to travel to alternative cities to the main capitals, such as Ljubljana, Luxembourg, Trentino and the Tyrol and this year Murcia. In the case of the Ruhr area, it is no longer a single city that is fighting to get on the list of culturally interesting capitals, but rather an entire geographical area in the process of redefining its identity. The context is not easy, since we are not talking about “charming” or “cool” cities, but rather places where the industrial past has a significant weight and which could easily have been locations for Ken Loach films. The names of these cities are not Cologne or Düsseldorf, but Bergkamen, Essen, Unna, Lünen or Hamm.

If the goal is to put it on the map, it is worth focusing on some specificity that is already present in the context. In the case at hand, the Biennale für Internationale Lichtkunst, light is the theme. This is no coincidence, since in some way the theme of energy and light is part of the DNA of the area, as decisive elements in the process of transformation from an industrial zone to a modern metropolis. Near Oberhausen is one of the most famous illuminated logos, that of the Bayer laboratories. Likewise, walking through the area at Christmas time means facing an orgy of illuminated Christmas decorations both in shops and in private homes. In this context, the Zentrum für Internationale Lichtkunst opened its doors in Unna in 2001 and it is in this context that this biennial centred on light is located. Although the literal translation would be “art of light”, luckily the subject is treated in a way that is not fundamentalist, but rather ambiguous. In other words, it is not about showing works literally made with light, but the approach is much more sophisticated.

The second aspect to highlight, which makes it interesting, is the scope of work and exhibition, which is that projects by artists (60) are shown in private spaces. Yes, yes, in living rooms, girls’ rooms, storage rooms, garages or swimming pools in private homes; The most important thing is to visit the places where the owners (doctors, professionals, housewives, antique dealers, mechanics, teachers, a politician – what a great image operation! – show the visitors the works they host. I don’t know if the hosts will still be as eager to explain things at the end of May, when the Biennale is almost over, as they were at the beginning. Some of the owners of the “venues” were familiar with contemporary art, others simply responded to an advertisement in a newspaper. In some cases, there was real work on site by the artist, in others, the simple installation of a work loaned by a museum, or in other cases, there was more curatorial work by the person in charge of the biennial, Mathias Wagner K. Wagner K is a German curator, based in Berlin, who has explicitly expressed his debt to the exhibition “Chambre d’amis” which took place in 70 private houses and was curated by Jan Hoet in Ghent in 1986 (the project that put him on the springboard to direct Documenta in 1992) and which impressed Wagner K when he was a student.

Even without knowing what will happen with the second edition of this biennial, whether it will be held in just one of these cities, whether it will be nomadic or what the theme will be, the exceptionality of this first edition lies in two aspects: first, approaching the theme of light in a very broad way, which in addition to including in the list of artists the “usual suspects” such as Michel Verjux or James Turrell bets on others that are much less obvious. The second success lies in that wandering through private environments and the conversations that are generated, that is, in that the art becomes a very everyday occurrence.

It is impossible to comment on all the works, because the level is certainly uneven, but it is worth highlighting different cases. The Icelandic artist Heimir Björgúlfsson, who usually uses animals to refer to human behaviour, turned the storage room of the young antique dealer Jens Bartusch into an environment full of hunters and hunted, predators and victims, using stuffed animals and other elements belonging to Bartusch himself. Mathias Wagner K carried out a delicate curatorial work by installing Bas Jan Ader’s piece with the phrase “Please, don’t leave me” in a chapel. Julius Popp made a spectacular installation in Mrs. Stahl’s swimming pool in which a series of words taken from the Internet fell, made with water and light. A living room installation by Jenny Holzer with messages written on LEDs alluding to the public-private fluidity, was presented in a corner of the Leithe living room. Maix Mayer presented a video in the room that the Brückner family uses as a screening room. The video consisted of a recording of a Thai New Year tradition in which light, fire, firecrackers and fireworks take center stage, appealing to the resilience of those who celebrate it. And finally, a geometric light sculpture by Sylvie Fleury blended so well into the room of two teenagers in the Giering family’s apartment that it left us with the feeling of intruding too much into an intimacy of which we were not a part.

So, there are big questions regarding future editions and also regarding the theme of light, but this does not prevent us from highlighting the curatorial work of Mathias Wagner K, who with his intelligent approach introduces a debate on topics such as public space, urban life, the identity of cities (a great topic if we consider that some of them, like Bergkamen, were founded in 1966 as a result of the union of six communities) and the role that art can play in all this.

The recent exhibition of Tim Burton at the MoMA in New York, the constant appearance of articles about some films and filmmakers (Haneke, Tarkovski, Kiarostami…) in specialized art magazines and, above all, the way in which some artists insist on offering a cinematic experience in their installations in museums and art centers, demonstrate the absolute permeability of the borders between art and cinema. Nothing new, of course, but increasingly evident.

There is no doubt that the most widespread form of image experience in today’s societies is the moving image. If we add to this that artists enjoy the flexibility to use all the means at their disposal to develop their discourses, it is not strange that for many artists cinema is the great reference, that it is increasingly common for filmmakers to exhibit in art institutions or for artists to become filmmakers and present their feature films at festivals and movie theaters.

Let us recall some cases: Andy Warhol filmed the Empire State Building for eight hours and Douglas Gordon “refilmed” it. In 1993, the same artist took Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho in 24 Hour Psycho and slowed it down to give it a duration of 24 hours, the same as the duration of the action. In Remake, Pierre Huyghe made a homemade but absolutely faithful version of Hitchcock’s Rear Window. In Walt & Travis, Martí Anson filmed a road movie full of allusions to Paris, Wim Wenders’ Texas and Monte Hellman’s Two-Lance Blacktop, but including all those scenes or dead times that would never appear in a conventional road movie. In The Right Distance, Mabel Palacín analyses our relationship with images, based on a protagonist who lives surrounded by scenes from films with whose characters he connects and identifies.

Another variant is that of museums that exhibit the creative universes of filmmakers, such as Stanley Kubrick or Federico Fellini, or cases such as those of some authors of experimental cinema of the 60s, such as Kenneth Anger, Michael Snow or Harun Farocki, who exhibit in museums works that could hardly have a career in commercial cinemas. And finally, the most striking case is that of artists who take the opposite path, making the leap to film production. Thus, Julien Schnabel is now a consolidated director; Steve McQueen is the author of the feature film Hunger (2008), which deals with the subject of political prisoners of the IRA and is preparing to shoot a film about Fela Kuti; Shirin Neshat, in Women without Men (2009), tells the story of four women during the days of the coup d’état in Iran in 1953. All three have been recognized with awards at prestigious festivals such as Venice or Cannes.

This makes us think of the character of the art field as a testing laboratory. The museum can be a refuge for filmmakers and also a testing ground for artists whose ambition is to become filmmakers, make films and show them in cinemas.

[Article published in Bonart, 2010]

Link to the article in A*DESK

There are artists who open avenues for thought and discussion. In the case of Baldessari, this inspiring role is also accompanied by a playfully transgressive attitude that is evident in each and (almost) each of the works in the retrospective that the MACBA is dedicating to him these days.

Last summer, from one of the Palazzi in Venice, a banner appeared that read “I will not make any more boring art.” A declaration of principles, written in 1971 by a professor at CalArts called John Baldessari. In the midst of the celebration of the 53rd edition of the Venice Biennale and about to receive a gold lion for his career, the phrase kept all its meaning. Although the contexts were different, since “I will not make any more boring art” was born as a result of Baldessari’s teaching work and his conviction that it is not possible to teach art, together with his desire to criticize the fundamentalisms of certain conceptualists, it gave rise to a video, in which the artist imposes on himself, almost as a school punishment, the task of writing over and over again this declaration of principles that, not even in the video, does he manage to fulfill. Despite this, we cannot help but side with the artist who dared to try to give a little more projection to Sol Lewitt’s “Sentences on Conceptual Art” by simply putting music to them and freeing them from their confinement in catalogues and art books.

“Pure Beauty”, the retrospective dedicated to him by the MACBA, takes as its title one of his works, which consists of a canvas on which these words appear. It cannot be more conceptual… or less… The works that make up the exhibition reflect very well the attitude of the professor who does not believe that art can be taught, but that it simply happens, comes from the game and is about breaking with the pre-established. And with these premises it is not strange that some of his students have developed more than outstanding careers: Matt Mullican, Richard Prince, Rita McBride or Jack Goldstein, among others. The list of artists who have been influenced by Baldessari would be much longer.

Baldessari’s work is disconcerting. There is always some element that irritates (the motif, the title, the formalization…). Whether it is because of the sense of humor or the recognition of images that are familiar to us, his works are close. However, there is always some element that does not quite fit, information that does not appear, a strange juxtaposition… Baldessari himself explained his intentions in an interview: “I like to offer just the right amount of information so as not to drown the work. Sometimes I suppress too much information and the work fails. When the work is successful it is because I have left enough information to activate the viewer’s mind, but not so much that the image is complete.”

The journey of “Pure Beauty” could not have started better, with a series of paintings (saved from the burning that the artist carried out, announced and documented in 1970 to rethink his work), a selection of “Text Paintings” in which the word replaces the image and the “Commissioned Paintings” in which he laughs at the premise that “conceptual art is limited to pointing”, to commission paintings from amateur painters in which a finger literally points to an innocuous motif. The videos “I will not make any more boring art”, “Baldessari sings Sol Lewitt” and “I am making art” (three authentic hits on Youtube that also have numerous revisions, responses and remakes) show his facet as a teacher who encourages students to see things from another perspective and, most importantly, to discover their own point of view. Another block of works focuses on the reflection on the identity of the artist, such as the photographs in which he greets each of the ships that enter and leave the port; He imitates a real cloud with cigarette smoke; he tries to align three orange balls in the air or paints a space with different colours in succession. In a world where everything must have a purpose and a use, Baldessari shows that it is still possible to do things for free, to disconcert, and that the artist’s job is precisely to alert us, through absurdity, that perhaps everything that seems so sensible and regulated is perhaps not so.

The second part of the exhibition focuses on work based on images, on collection, juxtaposition, assembly and relationship with words or colours. Using appropriated images, the artist aims to alter the hierarchy of vision, to introduce irritating elements to provoke, to stimulate attention, so that we are able to read the images and understand how they function in our culture. It is precisely in this part of the tour that space is gained and intensity is lost, the discourse becomes repetitive and the time spent visiting the rooms is noticeably reduced.

It is curious that works carried out more than thirty years ago are more contemporary and fresh than some of those produced just a decade ago. However, this does not mean that Baldessari continues to be an indisputable reference.

In recent months, when it seems that all information must be filtered by the crisis and the economy, some newspapers have celebrated the publication of the Spanish version of the book “The 12 Million Dollar Shark” by economist Don Thompson to bring together a series of arguments with which to discredit contemporary art.

The book provides a lot of information and numerous anecdotes that make it entertaining to read, but let no one be fooled into thinking that it will give you the keys to understanding contemporary art from A to Z. Thompson’s vision is that all gallery owners want to be Larry Gagosian, all collectors want to emulate Saatchi and all artists aspire to be Damian Hirst. Art is reduced to a system of brands, in which Richard Prince and Louis Vuitton are interchangeable. Thompson’s surprising discovery is a real one when we are more than used to everything around us (cities, universities, museums, actors or film festivals) being brands: from Barcelona to Harvard, passing through the MoMA, the Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie tandem or the Sundance Film Festival. Thompson’s problem is that he reduces Félix González Torres to the one who made a sculpture with a pile of sweets and his greatest desire seems to be to draw up a list of the 25 most influential artists based on the value given to them by the results at auctions.

A few years ago, in an interview in Artforum, John Baldessari was asked who he thought was the most influential artist for later generations. Baldessari replied: Rodney Graham. The work of Rodney Graham, of whom we can now visit an excellent exhibition curated by Friedrich Meschede at the MACBA, is not exactly easy. Trained in art history, anthropology, English and French literature, in his works he has explored aspects related to literature, photography, cinema, psychology, anthropology and art.

The observation of the same phrase (“through the forest”) repeated in the same position on two occasions in Georg Büchner’s book “Lenz” is taken as a leitmotiv and gives the title to the MACBA exhibition “Through the forest” which is divided into different chapters: the library or the archive, with a large part of this artist’s references; the forest, an intervention in which two generators powerfully illuminated a forest, changing the perception of the place; music, highlighting a fragment of Parsifal; cinema and photography and, finally, the identity of the artist, in which, with intelligence, distance and a critical eye, Rodney Graham represents himself as a Fluxus artist (throwing potatoes against a gong), as a classical musician, as a talented amateur or as a painter following the School of Paris.

It is no coincidence that Rodney Graham does not appear on Don Thompson’s lists, among other things, because it would be impossible to summarise his work in a single sentence. Fortunately.

[Article published in Bonart, 2010]

Link to the article in A*DESK

Until his appointment as the new director of Canòdrom, the Swiss Moritz Küng regularly came and went to Barcelona to begin to define his programme of action and also to familiarise himself with the context and its agents. Responsible for the deSingel exhibition programme in Antwerp since 2003, Küng has worked equally with artists and architects. During the interview we had in Barcelona, ​​he made clear the natural distance he has in relation to all the controversy that has surrounded Canòdrom as well as an open and dialoguing attitude.

Montse Badia – What are the main guidelines of your project for Canòdrom?

Moritz Küng – I can talk about intentions but not about the programme. At the end of March we will present the first lines. The intentions are not new, in the sense that I already have a trajectory that makes sense. In the case of Canòdrom and Capella – because they go together – for me it means following the direction that I have been defining in recent years. I am very interested in spatial conditions. The Canòdrom and La Capella are not standard conditions. They are two places with original functions that have little to do with art. This is a constant in my work. The first exhibition I had, in 1992-93, was at an architectural association in Zurich. The exhibition space was in a basement, with a surface area of ​​30 square metres and a small auditorium, no daylight and very raw walls. They were anti-exhibition conditions. I started with the project “Denkraum Museum”, something like the “space to think about the museum”. It coincided with the boom of new museums in Europe and I was interested in questioning the future typology of the museum as an exhibition place. I invited two artists, Andrea Fraser, who presented a performance, a guide to the Philadelphia Museum, which we showed on video. It was called “Museum Highlights: A Gallery Talk” from 1989. I also invited Heimo Zobernig, who made a second space of 480 x 480 x 300 cm within the space. It was an empty, neutral space. A perfect space within the non-perfect space. What it created was that the things that were not perfect in the space were read, i.e. the uneven floor, the condition of the light, the placement of the columns, etc. At the same time, round tables were organised with art historians, museum directors, art critics, artists, philosophers (among others Bice Curiger, Jan Debbaut, Helmut Federle or Beat Wyss). There were no architects on the panels, because they were basically the audience.

In a project there are always two aspects that interest me: art and architecture, their parallels. A more recent example: deSingel in Antwerp is a centre with a performance arts programme. It has two large galleries, one of which is the gallery, and the other one is the gallery. The main focus of the institution is auditoriums with a capacity of 1000 and 800 people respectively. This is the main focus of the institution. They also present exhibitions whose main theme is architecture. I was interested in introducing an exhibition programme in these particular conditions of deSingel, without an actual exhibition hall. My programme consisted of any place in the building being an exhibition space. The first exhibition with an artist was with Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, who made interventions throughout the campus. This was an important exhibition because for the first time the exhibition as such disappeared. The work was fully integrated into the site. The interventions ended up generating added value to the space. All this was possible because the general director of deSingel gave me the freedom to do so.

I consider this previous experience to be fundamental for my project regarding Canòdrom. One fundamental thing is that there are two spaces, Capella and Canòdrom, both “anti-white cube”. The Capella, central next to the Ramblas, and Canòdrom in a well-connected periphery. The public at Canòdrom must make a point of going, while the public at La Capella simply “passes by”. One is like a “restaurant” (Canòdrom) and the other is like a “bar” (Capella). In my project, both places will have the same programme but the emphasis will be different. At La Capella I would like a programme that progresses more actively, with lectures, presentations, film screenings, performances and also a programme of exhibitions, but a small one.

MB – And what about the programme that La Capella has developed so far?

MK – For me at the moment it is not clear. I will soon meet with its director, but I think everything can be resolved. For now, what I can explain to you is my proposed intentions. At Canòdrom, which is not so central, the exhibitions will be the strongest point. The fact that there are two places is very interesting because they can attract different audiences.

At this moment, when I move in the field of intentions, a first rule is “back to the basics”. The environment of the Culture has been perverted. There are too many mediators of culture, there are more mediators than artists and this is strange. So one of the intentions is to do things pragmatically. It is not a response to the crisis. Of course we are in a moment of crisis, but also in a process of healing, of getting back on the ground. The Canòdrom building is a good personification of all this. You can see it as the opposite of the Mies van der Rohe Pavilion. My intention is to position the Canòdrom as “the other Pavilion of Barcelona”. When you compare both buildings you can see that they are opposites. On the one hand, you have the absolute architectural icon, the Mies van der Rohe Pavilion. It is a beautiful and fantastic building, but it is very authoritarian. The Canòdrom is an engineering building. It is very sophisticated, light, elegant as a structure, which plays with tensions. It has a very basic finish. This is very interesting in relation to the identity of the Canòdrom. I will try to position it in this way and the programme will also take this aspect into account. I am interested in putting it on the map not only as an art centre, but also as an architectural icon to be discovered. I want to make this potential visible.

MB – When do you plan to start your programme? When will the works be finished?

MK – It is a very deep renovation and there are always delays. The architects want to finish the exterior of the building in March or April. The interior of the building may be ready at the end of 2010 or beginning of 2011. We all want it to be done well even if that means opening later.

MB – Canòdrom will begin its journey with “Canòdrom 00:00:00” What is your involvement in the project which, if I am not mistaken, was a call for proposals thought out and launched before your election as director?

MK – “Canòdrom 00:00:00” is a transitional project. Part of an agreement between the Ministry of Culture and the artistic sector, which has involved CONCA in its execution. The “Canòdrom 00:00:00” project responds to this desire. CONCA announced the competition and I was invited to participate in the jury, which also included the architect Xavier Monteys, the artist Vicenç Viaplana, the curator Neus Miró and Pilar Parcerisas, as a member of CONCA. The jury reviewed 75 proposals and we had a lot of time to discuss. Finally we chose nine projects. I really like the title “Canòdrom 00:00:00” because it is like the zero issue of a magazine. It creates expectations. It is a good idea to communicate that we are here, working. At the moment, CONCA is my basic interlocutor until the Consortium is created, although I also maintain relations with the Barcelona City Council and other cultural actors.

MB – You have worked in very different contexts (Antwerp, Venice,…) and on one occasion in 2004 in Barcelona at the Sala Montcada… Are you familiar with the Spanish, Catalan and Barcelona context? Do you follow it closely? Have you seen how it has evolved?

MK – Each exhibition has its own history. La Caixa had the idea of ​​inviting four curators a year. The idea was that each one would do an exhibition in which they would invite a Spanish artist and another international one. To me it seemed a questionable idea and I tried to turn it around. My proposal consisted of inviting only one artist, the American Ann Walsh. Her concept ‘Art After Death’ consisted of interviewing dead artists (Yves Klein, Joseph Cornell) through a medium. Ann visits places where the artist has been or places where their works are and the medium contacts their spirit. It is a speculative work. For Montcada, I wanted her to contact a Spanish artist and she proposed an interview with Remedios Varo. The project involved trips to Mexico, London and other places where there were works of hers. But La Caixa didn’t like it and since at that time I was obsessed with the idea of ​​exhibiting in Spain, I thought of another proposal. I invited Lara Almarcegui (E) and Adrian Schiess (CH). Looking back, I think Lara’s project was fantastic. I like the idea of ​​re-questioning things. By questioning and rethinking things you generate cultural production. Showing what is known is boring, it’s not interesting. In the case of Lara and Adrian it was a very conceptual proposal. Lara proposed lifting the entire floor of the Sala Montcada to see what was underneath. This was done during the dismantling and assembly period. To me this seemed to be the most significant moment, the time of transgression. At the end the documentation of the process was shown in a slide projection. Adrian brought sheets of paint that were installed on the floor, covering Lara’s performance, like an echo, a spatial reflection.

MB – You have also worked on long-term projects such as “Curating the Campus” and “Curating the Library” could you explain in what do they consist of and are you considering any projects of this type for Barcelona?

MK – For me it is very important to start things, projects that are produced over time. If you start something now, it will not be an immediate success. It takes at least three years, or better yet five. Time is a fundamental tool in my work. That is why there are a number of artists with whom I have been working for years. Not because I don’t know more or don’t know what to do, but because I am interested, from a curatorial point of view, in the evolution of these artists in relation to time. One example is Matt Mullican, with whom I have collaborated eight times since 1993. This explains the importance of time in my work. The projects “Curating de Library” and “Curating the Campus” began when I arrived at deSingel. Curating the Library was the first and consisted of a very simple idea: invite people with a different background (artists, architects, writers, collectors, scientists, designers, etc.) and give them 400 Euros to buy books that have been important to them. The number of books doesn’t matter. It can be a single book for 400 Euros or 80 books for 5 Euros. Then that person comes to Antwerp and explains why these books are important to him or her. Curating the Library is a library that keeps growing. It is a small project but it has a strong identity. It is almost an art project.

Regarding Curating the Campus, since deSingel was located in the city’s beltway, the idea was to advertise and make visible all the activities that were taking place. Making it explicit with words didn’t seem like a good idea, because people saw it while driving, so I proposed to the director to ask artists to do this work. I asked Matt Mullican and he made two logos, one consisting of a globe to allude to the term “international” and another in which you can see spectators in front of a black rectangle (which could be a stage, a monitor or a projection). These are 10 x 10 metre flags. This was the initial context for starting “Curating the Campus”. Every year we include one or two works. It is a progressive format that involves the visual arts in the functioning of the centre. Itziar Okariz, for example, was invited and did a performance in which she urinated. This intervention is a trademark of the artist. And I think deSingel was the first institution to invite her to do this performance. Because the institution is above all the domain of the artists and not just of the public. If the two elements are brought together it is perfect.

MB – Speaking of institutions, how do you see the institutional map in Barcelona? What do you know about it?

MK – At the moment, not much. I know people, of course, directors of institutions, gallery owners, curators, critics, but I have no direct involvement. Now I will dedicate myself to getting to know more, to talking to them, to getting to know artists. In every community, all the actors have the same objective, to be part of something. Opinions, ideas and directions may be different but in the end the objective is common. An institution must have a clear and precise direction. An institution, or a director, must know what is being done. I think it is important for a dynamic cultural community and I think Barcelona is one. It is important that the visitor feels what the objective is, the direction of the institution. An institution cannot be for everyone. When you try to please everyone, in the end you please no one.

MB – And who are you addressing? Who will Canòdrom-La Capella address?

MK – Sometimes I say things that are not popular. I once participated in an international symposium of curators in Switzerland, very interesting, they had us for three days in a monastery, discussing and debating. At one point the question came up: “Who are we working for?” I said, and I still believe, that I’m basically doing it for myself. My colleagues couldn’t believe it when they heard it. “And the public?” they asked. I have to be totally convinced to do something I’m committed to, and once I’m convinced, then I can share the conviction, defend it and convince others. That’s why I say that I’m basically doing it for myself. The starting point is always my own curiosity, not the curiosity of others.

MB – What do you think is the role of art and the artist in our society?

MK – There are many artists and there is no one truth. There are fashions. I can only answer in a very personal way. The work that fascinates me is difficult, it’s the one I don’t understand at first glance, it has an enigma. So I’m interested in it because it leads me to want to discover something. If the work is capable of provoking a moment of curiosity, it doesn’t leave you indifferent, then it’s interesting. Art can’t be nice or pretty. Art is something that provokes an opinion, that irritates, that is an obstacle. Why? Because only through an obstacle can you become aware of your own situation. Of course, that art can be comfortable, but that is not the type of work that interests me.

In 1987, six years after the first cases of AIDS were detected, a group of six American artists and activists created “Silence = Death”, a slogan that aimed to break the taboos surrounding the disease. In twenty years, things have changed a lot. Medical research has advanced spectacularly. However, in many non-Western countries, prevention and the stigmatization of the sick are still unresolved.

There is no doubt that art is a form of knowledge, of questioning, of criticism, of empathy and of activism. In the United States of the 1980s, art took on an activist role to make its voice heard, demand rights and criticize an extremely conservative government. The campaigns and slogans of ACT UP; the “Imagevirus” series by General Idea with the AIDS logo occupying public space; the “AIDS Timeline” by Group Material; The gravity of Robert Mappelthorpe’s self-portrait or the subtlety of Félix González-Torres’ installations are just some examples of artistic proposals with a purpose of transcendence and awareness. In all cases, the artists had direct experience of the disease, but none of them focused their work on the physical impact of the disease on their body.

A large exhibition project has recently been inaugurated in Barcelona, ​​presented in different institutions in the city, including the Suñol Foundation, Casa Asia, Casa Elizalde, Palau Robert and MACBA. The project is an initiative of the ArtAids Foundation, promoted and directed by the writer and collector Han Nefkens, with the aim of “channelling economic resources and human energies in favour of HIV-positive people and the prevention of the disease”. Convinced of the capacity of art as a driver of knowledge, Nefkens commissioned a project around this theme from around twenty artists. The results are quite varied: they are based on joint work with affected people (“Dead Man Walking” by L.A.Raeven, “El jardiner astrònom” by Josep M. Martín), they focus on the public presence of the disease (“Línea roja” by Ignasi Aballí, “Trad as I” by Antonio Ortega), or they carry out research processes in countries with well-defined problems (“Lab 50” by Pep Dardanyá).

It is curious how the attitude has changed a lot compared to the 80s, but the needs to communicate, make known, share, promote respect and action remain the same. The “Silence = Death” of the 80s can now be replaced by “You Are not Alone”.

[Article published in Bonart, 2010]

There are movements in the Spanish art scene: new directions at the CGAC, the MUSAC, the Virreina Centro de la Imagen and the Museo Picasso in Malaga, a competition about to be resolved at the Canódromo and Hangar… but in addition to these variations of institutional pieces, other synergies are beginning to be detected. Other types of initiatives are beginning to emerge, more flexible and dynamic. A few weeks ago, an article by Bea Espejo in “El Cultural” of El Mundo made an inventory of a dozen independent initiatives in Madrid that defined their sphere of action outside the institution.

MEETING SPACES
At the beginning of November, a one-off event took place in Barcelona, ​​which brings together rather than disperses, which brings energy to the scene and in which something more than the desire to occupy a space for a weekend can be seen. This is Entes, an exhibition that was presented in an apartment in the Gracia district and that brought together thirty artists in just over 40 m2. The formula is not new. We remember Se Alquiler or 22a, two initiatives that provided a space for the presentation of exhibitions, projects and meetings. It is not new, we said, but it provides something very necessary in these times of institutionalization, crisis and discontent: discussion, debate, exchange of ideas, collaboration and positive energy. It is the antithesis of the culture of complaint. It works almost like Nike’s “Do it”: – You don’t like the scene? – Then get moving, do something.

The idea of ​​Entes arose from casual conversations between a group of artists and friends and was concretized a few months later, becoming bigger with new names of artists who wanted to join. English: Efrén Álvarez, Usue Arrieta, David Bestué, Luz Broto, Fito Conesa, Julieta Dentone, Pol Esteve, Laia Estruch, Jaume Ferrete, Ana García-Pineda, Rubén Grilo, Daniel Jacoby, Tamara Kuselman, Marc Larré, Fran Meana, Irene Minovas, Momu & No Es, Mariona Moncunill, Marc Navarro, Daniela Ortiz, ferranElOtro, Diego Paonessa, Gabriel Pericàs, Maria Ramió, Alex Reynolds, Joan Saló, Daniel Steegmann, Ricardo Trigo, Vicente Vázquez, Martín Vitaliti and Marc Vives are the thirty-one artists who have exhibited their work. They are more or less complex projects that have been synthesized as much as possible when they are formalized. I will mention just three as examples: the drawing of the interior of the Capella de Sant Corneli de Cardedeu, as a reference to the final point of a project by Luz Broto in that same place and whose proposal, the extraction of a stone from the wall of the Capella, generated a reaction and a controversy as disproportionate as it was significant; the small photograph accompanied by a caption in which Daniela Ortiz concentrates an action as secret as it is subversive that links everyday life and historical commemoration and the two laminated photographs/posters by Daniel Jacoby in which he exemplifies and quantifies the notions of small and large, based on the results of a questionnaire launched from his Web page.

But the most outstanding thing, apart from the irregularity of the works, is the spirit of collaboration, of initiative, of exchange, of creating context, of placing ourselves in the “here and now” as the only way to be able to locate ourselves on a more open, larger and more international map.

[Article published in Bonart, 2009]

“The spectacle of the everyday.” This is the title of the tenth edition of the Lyon Biennial, which has just opened only a few weeks ago. Recently, Photoespaña’09 in Madrid, dedicated to “The everyday,” also closed. If, as Harald Szeeman said, artists are the seismographs of the changes that occur in society, there is no doubt that the interest of artists (and of curators, exhibitions/biennials and other events) in daily life can be a reflection of the concerns, interests, dynamics and needs of the present moment.

CHANGES IN PARADIGM. The curator of “The spectacle of the everyday,” Hou Hanru, starts from the premise that we live in a world in which everything is a spectacle, from an image to a magazine, including an exhibition, and that, in parallel, there is what we call “daily life,” in which we try not to be irremediably dragged by the logic of consumption that accompanies the spectacle. The idea of ​​the biennial is to draw the context of this “society of the spectacle” to highlight precisely the less visible world of everyday life, with all its potential for autonomy and creation. With all due respect, these are premises that are not so far removed from Bertold Brecht’s poem Questions of a Worker before a Book “(…) A victory on every page. Who cooked the banquets of victory? / A great man every ten years. Who pays his expenses? (…)”.

We live in a paradigm shift in which the individual appears again at the centre. Cities are nodes of relationships. Communication is in real time and also bidirectional. We can all be transmitters and receivers at the same time. (Another question is how the accumulation of information makes it very difficult to select, develop criteria and create one’s own opinion.)

MINIMAL GESTURES, GREAT IMPACT. The new ways we relate to each other today mean that the “I”s who speak are almost as many as individuals and that their discourse refers to their closest environment. Sometimes, the idea of ​​the everyday, omnipresent on Facebook, YouTube and blogs, is identified with the innocuous and inconsequential, in the 15 minutes of fame advocated by Andy Warhol, in reality shows or in the yellow press. On other occasions, the closest and most personal, the smallest gestures, can become actions of greater impact capable of changing things, even if only minimally. In this sense, and returning to the Lyon Biennial, the critical and ironic look of Dan Perjovski’s drawings, Dora García’s performances that merge with reality, Eulàlia Valldosera’s street lamp invading an interior space or Leopold Kessler’s minimal actions in public space are nothing more than low-intensity gestures, whose potential is based on their ability to recognize certain mechanisms and make us change our perception and conception of things. And that may only be the first step that leads to other, more profound changes.

[Article published in Bonart, 2009]