The artist Christian Boltanski said that we actually die twice, the first time at the moment of death and then, when someone no longer recognises us in photographs. How important it is to take care of memory, personal and historical, recent memory and living memory, to reconcile with it, accept it and learn. Unlike events further away in time, which we can recover after intense archival and newspaper research work, recovering the most recent artistic and cultural memory has the advantage that there are many testimonies that are still accessible, with which we can talk, which remember, nuance and analyse from a temporal and personal distance. An essential and very rewarding job that it is not clear which museum or institution would correspond to. Would it be the MACBA that would have the duty to encourage the task of investigating the most recent past of the city in which it is located? It is surely not the responsibility of a single museum, but it should be a very present issue.

The museum that is already doing this is the Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya (MNAC), through exhibitions/research of specific moments of the counterculture (such as the exhibition dedicated to El Víbora) and giving access to its archives and collections to artists so that they can make reinterpretations (La caja entropica by Francesc Torres or Neumotórax. Una perforación en l’archivo-pulmón del Museu Nacional by Jordi Ferreiro). La Virreina. Centre de la Imatge has also been doing this work for some time. The most recent case is the exhibition Sala Aixalà (1959-1975), a shop in Barcelona that carried out an intense activity of presenting experimental proposals of photography, film, music and comics. In the exhibition, curated by Laura Terré, the meticulous reconstruction of specific moments of the Sala Aixalà programme is key and, naturally, that some of its creators can explain its history.

Recovering memory, from a more personal perspective, is what Aimar Pérez Galí does in relation to the impact of AIDS on the dance scene in the 1980s in countries on the periphery (of history and power). Every time Aimar Pérez Galí travels to do a dance performance, teach a workshop or give a lecture, he tries to get in touch with someone from the dance scene at that time who can learn first-hand about the object of his study, which he then transforms into letters that he writes to those dancers and choreographers who have disappeared. All these letters make up the book Lo Tocante and The Touching Community, a dance show with five dancers of different ages and conditions. Sounds, words and movements become true words of love for all those who are no longer here but who can never again be forgotten.

Aimar Pérez Galí. The Thouching Community. Mercat de les Flors (Barcelona), 2016. foto: Siddharth Gautam Singh

[Article published in Bonart, 2020]

Most of the great references of art from the second half of the 20th century are usually read from a contemporary perspective, emphasizing those aspects that are considered most relevant at each moment. Artists as versatile as Cindy Sherman can be analyzed from a photographic, cinematographic or appropriationist point of view, among others. At the time, feminist theories saw in her an example of the stereotypes of femininity and post-structuralist theories, an example of the construction of the notion of identity as a compendium of the notion of “the death of the author.” As Hal Foster wrote on the occasion of the retrospective dedicated to her by the MoMA in New York in 2012, this shows “how right we were and, at the same time, how wrong we were.”

In the case of Francis Bacon, during the 1980s (postmodernism, let us not forget) there was talk of references to the history of art (from Velázquez to Picasso, passing through Chaim Soutine), of the gesture and expressiveness of the brushstrokes and of the solitude and violence that his paintings could transmit. After the artist’s death in 1992, his studio was donated by his partner, John Edwards, to the Municipal Gallery of Modern Art in Dublin, where it was reconstructed with archaeological precision. From that moment on, his work methodology was valued, visible from the huge collection of photographs, illustrations from medical journals, press reports and reproductions of works that are in his studio. It is no coincidence that this focus of attention on his archive took place at the turn of the century.

But recovering or vindicating an artist is not interesting for what the present can tell you but for what an artist can contribute to the present. So now would be a good time to vindicate, once again and in all its complexity, the figure of Joseph Beuys, his conviction in the transformative power of art, the necessary connection with politics, the pedagogical, ritual, symbolic, mystical, humorous aspects and the consideration of the multiple and its democratic scope as valid elements to disseminate his discourse.

At a time of strong permeability between art, mediation and pedagogy and cultural industries, this approach to art becomes relevant again. Going back to Beuys right now could be as if we could talk to our past selves, the only one with the authority to make us see that we are destroying the planet (as not so much politicians and large corporations remind us every day, but Greta Thunberg and so many other teenagers and activists of what we have so much to learn) and to reconcile ourselves with a humanist discourse that believed/believes in the capacity of people to make the world a better place.

[Article published in Bonart, 2019]

Taking artists on a boat to a remote island in the South Pacific so they can work with marine biologists, environmental specialists, filmmakers and activists, in the middle of nowhere and with unexpected materials around them. This is the project developed by TBA21 Academy, a part of Francesca Thyssen-Bornemisza’s TBA21 Foundation, which adds to artistic production, research into this confluence of art and science so that art becomes an integral part of the process of critical thinking and seeking solutions related to the climate crisis, more specifically, in relation to the defence and conservation of the oceans.

The idea of ​​putting artists and scientists to work together is not new. In the late 1960s, Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.) emerged, a non-profit initiative with the aim of developing collaborations between artists and engineers. In this way, artists expanded their role in society, contributing to exploring the limits of technological innovations and their impact on the individual. John Cage, Robert Rauschenberg and Öyvind Fahlström were some of the artists who participated in this programme, which reached its climax in the Pepsi Pavilion at the Osaka Fair in 1970.

A more recent example was seen in recent months at the Centre for Contemporary Culture in Barcelona, ​​where ten artistic projects emerged in the context of Art at CERN, a programme of residencies and production by artists at CERN (European Organisation for Nuclear Research) in Geneva. The exhibition Quantum presents a theme that is as fascinating as it is overwhelming, because it explores that which is invisible, not the reality that we see based on the information we have about it, but that which opens up several possibilities simultaneously. Quantum presents two itineraries, one artistic (with 10 proposals) and the other scientific (as an introduction to nine aspects derived from the research carried out at CERN), which intersect and complement each other.

Artistic and scientific methodologies share some aspects. Rigor and research, but also intuition and experimentation, are an essential part. They also share a less pleasant side: too often they tend to be identified, by the public opinion, with cryptic and inaccessible discourses and languages. A fact that is not without curiosity because, a priori, both explore crucial aspects for our present (and future!). Perhaps this is related to the fact that both practices have to do with the field of uncertainty and that the expansion of research is directly proportional to the number of new questions that are opened.

“Art and science are inextricably linked; both are ways of exploring existence, what it is to be human and what is our place in the universe,” said Rolf Hauer, director of CIERNE, recently, “both require technical mastery, and both try to explore the limits of human potential.”

[Article published in Bonart, 2019]

We live in turbulent times, to paraphrase the title of the exhibition with which the IVAM in Valencia commemorates its thirty years of existence. Ambiguous and unjust times, which follow a logic more appropriate to a dystopian novel than to the supportive and sustainable world in which we would like to live. As in the 1930s or the 1960s, it seems that we have no choice but to protest, to publicly show our rejection of situations or actions that are unjust or disproportionate, through marches, demonstrations, resistance, violent or peaceful actions, infiltrations, strikes, boycotts, critical articles, ironic tweets or #hashtags.

Art can also be a broad field of expression that is nourished by criticism and social commentary, activism or the proposal of alternatives. From the distribution of Coca-Cola bottles with the message “Yankees go home”, infiltrated by the artist Cildo Meireles, to the drawings of protests taken from the media by Rirkrit Tiravanija, passing through the posters and statistics of Guerrilla Girls, there have been many artists who have raised their voices against American interventionism, social injustices or inequality between men and women.

At the point where representation meets action, it is worth remembering the cases in which artists collect or collaborate with activists who successfully resolve their claims. Two examples: the videographic works of the Austrian Oliver Ressler, recently presented in an exhibition at the Angels Barcelona gallery, on actions by activist groups aimed at warning against climate change with the proposal of alternatives to stop the inevitable. This is the case of the multi-channel installation “Everything’s coming together while everything is falling apart” (2016-2018) which captures various actions such as the blockade of a power station in Germany or the community created after the blockade of the construction of an airport in France.

Another case is that of The Yes Men, a well-known group of American activists who on January 16 distributed a false/optimistic edition of The Washington Post, dated May 1, 2019, in which the news of Donald Trump’s resignation as president appeared on the front page, following the continuous protests carried out by women, and whose interior summarized the news that we would all like to be true: from #MeToo to Trump “You’re Fired”, the positive reaction of the international community, the end of injustices and the triumph of democracy. And, above all, the news appears to be the fake edition of the same newspaper that already predicted the events that are narrated in May 2019.

Change the imaginary and resist. Exercise our rights, vote to be able to change things. Protest and be proactive at the same time. Fight against injustice and, above all, do not conform.

A group of activists distributes “Bye Bye 45,” a satirical edition of The Washington Post. Photograph: Tasos Katopodis/Getty Images for Yes Labs

[Artice published in Bonart, 2019]

Cloud Atlas is a wonderful film by the Wachowski sisters in which stories and characters unfold, mix and meet again across time, races and genders (sexual and film). The concept of trans is a notion that goes far beyond gender and has to do with the flow and transit between identities, formats, politics, languages ​​or disciplines. Transit, transition, transformation.

The exhibition dedicated to Lorenza Böttner, curated by Paul B. Preciado at the Virreina is an example of the recovery of an exceptional artist who made transformation her strategy to express her point of view and to define her own identity. A documentary by Michael Stahlberg brings us closer to the personal circumstances of Ernst Lorenz Böttner, who at the age of eight is the victim of an accident after climbing a tree and grabbing onto a high-tension cable that results in the amputation of both arms. After her rehabilitation and refusal to assume a bodily standard through prosthetics, she was then able to explore through art a form of expression and her own identity, which included the transformation of her face through painting, of her feminine personality, Lorenza, and of her performance abilities. A student of Professor Harry Kramer at the Gesamthochschule in Kassel (how important is the role of a teacher, a tutor who knows how to point out the potential of his students without imposing himself!), she uses her circumstances and a very conscious exhibitionism as a means of expression to break away from the pigeonholing to which people with some kind of bodily dysfunction are subjected.

Lorenza Böttner paints with her feet and mouth, dances, performs, uses her face as a canvas, paints in the street, investigates and studies the notion of “freak”, is a model for photographers such as Joel-Peter Witkin or Robert Mapplethorpe, embodies classical models such as the Venus de Milo to highlight the canons of beauty of a mutilated body and travels the world. The exhibition does not focus particularly on her later years (her role as inspiration for Petra, the mascot created by Mariscal for the 1992 Barcelona Paralympic Games, or her early death due to complications from AIDS), but rather emphasises the celebration of idiosyncrasy and of an individual and differentiated expressiveness that reminds us of the meaning of trans: the freedom to define oneself, to invent and reinvent oneself, to express and present oneself freely and autonomously, outside (or against) pre-established standards. Trans means dialogue, confrontation, fluidity, tolerance. And, indirectly, it also reminds us that the 21st century, in all its complexity, will be trans or is in danger of being retrograde to limits that we will not be able to withstand.

[Article published in Bonart, 2019]

References, debts, homages, quotes, copies, plagiarism, remixes, cut-and-paste… Culture is always the result of mixtures, rewritings, contaminations and updates. Ideas appear and reappear again and again over time. Contexts and circumstances change and, with them, readings and interpretations.

All of this is what Falsestuff is about, the play, written, directed and performed (among others) by the Nao Albet / Marcel Borràs duo and presented at the Grec Festival last summer. Starting from the idea of ​​falsehood and authenticity in art/theater, it speaks of the fine line that separates the quote, homage and plagiarism and the complexity of the concept of authorship: Roland Barthes’ idea that a text does not belong to its author, but to culture and readers. In a game of formats and a dizzying pace, Falsestuff is not a typical play. In fact, it is several plays in one. It is Central European theatre, it is a comedy of art, it is a Western, it is silent film, it is music, it is a performance, it is a post-show discussion, it is a concert, it is a live performance, it is Tarantino, it is Falstaff and also falsestuff. It is, of course, F for Fake, the documentary about Orson Welles’ fraud and forgeries.
Pedro Azara (incidentally, curator of the Catalan Pavilion at the next edition of the Venice Biennale) explains in the post-show discussion (actually a theatrical discussion during the intermission of the performance) that in the past, copies of the most important archaeological discoveries were usually made, and it was these copies that were exhibited. In Falsestuff, the protagonist, André Féikiévich, is so methodical in his falsification of works of art that he needs to capture their essence in order to be able to falsify them. It is not strange that he sets himself new challenges and moves on to the falsification of plays. Is it possible to falsify plays? The actors, the company, even their behaviour in private? Does this meticulous reconstruction make sense? And from there, to the next question is a step: does the enormous effort that creation sometimes implies make sense? If we follow this line of thought, we go through the “uselessness” of art, the unproductive efforts and the “I would rather not do it” of Bartleby and of all the “artists of no”…
Tricks, fraud, lies. “Who cares about the facts?” asks Orson Welles in F for Fake. “Art is a lie that allows us to see the truth,” as Picasso said, as Welles says, as Féikiévich says, as Albet/Borràs say.
It is time to rethink formats. Or to have them all present and mix them. It is the cut-and-paste of Burroughs and also that of Bowie. Hybrids and transdisciplinarity as a conceptual decision. Being free to be able to move between ideas, formats and references. Be free to not be afraid of the weight of the past and also to not take yourself too seriously.

[Article published in Bonart, 2018]

Referències, deutes, homenatges, cites, còpies, plagis, remixes, cut-and-paste… La cultura sempre és fruit de barreges i reescriptures, contaminacions i actualitzacions. Les idees apareixen i tornen a aparèixer un i un altre cop en el temps. Canvien els contextos i les circumstàncies i, amb elles, les lectures i interpretacions.

De tot això va Falsestuff, l’obra teatral escrita, dirigida i interpretada (entre altres) pel tàndem Nao Albert/ Marcel Borràs i presentada al Festival Grec del passat estiu. A partir de la idea de falsedat i autenticitat en art/teatre es parla de la fina línia que separa la cita, de l’homenatge i el plagi i de la complexitat del concepte d’autoria: la idea de Roland Barthes de que un text no pertany al seu autor, sinó a la cultura i als lectors. En un joc de formats i un ritme de vertigen, Falsestuff no és una obra de teatre a l’ús. De fet, són vàries obres en una. És teatre centreeuropeu, és comèdia del arte, és Western, és cinema mut, és música, és performance, és col·loqui post-funció, és concert, és directe, és Tarantino, és Falstaff i també “falsestuff”. És, naturalment,
F for Fake, el documental sobre el frau y les falsificacions d’Orson Welles.

Explica Pedro Azara (per cert, comissari del Pavelló Català en la propera edició de la Biennal de Venècia) en el col·loqui post-funció (en realitat, un col·loqui teatralitzat a l’entreacte) que en el passat s’acostumava a fer còpies de les troballes arqueològiques més importants i eren aquestes còpies les que s’exhibien. A Falsestuff, el protagonista, André Féikiévich és tan metòdic en la seva falsificació d’obres d’art que necessita capturar la seva essència per tal de poder-les falsificar. No és estrany que es plantegi nous reptes i es passi a la falsificació d’obres de teatre. És possible falsificar una obra de teatre? Els actors, la companyia, fins i tot el seu comportament en privat? Té sentit aquesta minuciosa reconstrucció? I d’aquí a la següent pregunta hi ha un pas: té sentit el gran esforç que implica de vegades la creació? Si seguim aquesta línia de pensament passem per la “inutilitat” de l’art, els esforços improductius i el “preferiria no fer-ho” de Bartleby i de tots “els artistes del no”…

Trucs, fraus, mentides. “A qui li importen els fets?” es pregunta Orson Welles a F for Fake. “L’art és una mentida que ens permet veure la veritat”, deia Picasso, diu Welles, diu Féikiévich, diuen Albet/Borràs.

És temps de repensar formats. O tenir-los tots presents i barrejar-los. És el
cut-and-paste de Burroughs i també el de Bowie. Híbrids i transdisciplinarietat com a decisió conceptual. Ser lliures per poder transitar idees, formats i referents. Ser lliures per no tenir por al pes del passat i també per a no prendre’s massa seriosament.

I remember that in the 1990s there were works that explored the body and exposed it in all its vulnerability. I remember sculptures and installations that were displayed in all their fragility, such as the light bulbs or the piles of sweets by Félix González-Torres, who shared empathy and loss with the spectators. One century was ending and another was beginning with all the uncertainties and transformations that we could not even imagine at the time. Surely in the last twenty years there have been more changes in the way we work, move and relate to each other than in the entire previous century.

We are in 2018 and some of the artists of the 1990s are still references for other artists who had just been born then. Artists from the first decades of the 21st century who share with their predecessors a feeling that the world is changing in a direction contrary to any constructive logic. This uncertainty, helplessness, but also resistance and common sense, authenticity and return to the essential is very present in a way of working that generates proposals based on orality, on the transmission of stories and the use of the voice as an artistic object, in the shared experiences of projects that endure as memory or as a record, in exhibitions that explore what makes us vulnerable, the fragility of structures and, at the same time, their potential.

Six examples are better than a thousand theories: Lúa Coderch works with the voice, “the first material, the most available”, with hypnotic and precise narrations that focus on the minimum, on the infra-mince. Anna Dot explores the limitation of language and communication, the notion of translation, focusing on the minimum nuances, twists and repetitions that end up distorting the meaning. Enric Farrés-Duran tells stories in which the real and the fictional end up meeting and modifying each other. Research, coincidences and chance encounters allow her to create stories based on unexpected connections. Irina Mutt curates exhibitions that discuss hardness and resistance, fragility and vulnerability as non-antagonistic notions, affections and feelings, protecting oneself and protecting others. The exhibition A break can be what we are aiming for includes an inflatable installation made of various plastic materials (Dream Castles by Mycket) and works that put the body and structures in conflict (Moat by Laia Estruch).

If the artists who worked in the 90s emphasized fragility and impossibility, the artists born in the 80s and 90s are well aware of where they speak from and what tools they have at their disposal, what they can expect (or not) from institutions, the globality and instability of the world in which they live and also the immense potential of individuals.

Images from the exhibition “A break can be what we are aiming for”, curated by Irina Mutt at La Capella in Barcelona. Views of the installations Dream Castles by Mycket and Moat by Laia Estruch.
Photographs: Pep Herrero

[Article published in Bonart, 2018]