Reading 'the curatorial' in Ydessa Hendeles' Partners
Transcript of Reading 'the curatorial' in Ydessa Hendeles' Partners
Reading ‘the curatorial’ in Ydessa Hendeles’ Partners Judit Bodor (Essay submitted for ‘Ways of Reading’, Aberystwyth University) Abstract: This essay investigates how exhibitions can mediate 'the past' to build understanding of 'history' and how such mediation influences reading and experience in particular of the work of artists in relation to historical context. It builds on the notion of the 'the curatorial' to analyse narrative construction in exhibitions as relates to complex historical reality. Here ‘the past’ is the infinitude of previous events and ‘history’ its selective reconstruction through present remains both tangible (objects, archival material) and intangible (peoples’ memory of the event). The essay focuses particularly on Maria Lind's analysis (2009, 2012) of 'the curatorial' to read Ydessa Hendeles' exhibition, Partners (The Teddy Bear Project) 2003. Partners was a museum exhibition through which Hendeles blurred boundaries of artist, collector and curator. Drawing on other readings of the exhibition by visual culture theorists Ernst van Alphen (2003) and Mieke Bal (2007) the essay critiques traditional chronological or thematic exhibition making. From 'curating' to 'the curatorial' The role of curator emerged in parallel with the development of cultural heritage institutions and the academic discipline of History in the 19th Century. This curator as 'keeper of objects' was a researcher, historian and guardian or gatekeeper of art and culture. The curator determined and interpreted objects of artistic significance and by extension the History of Art. During the 20th century, curating gradually came to include exhibition-‐making thus moving the curator towards a ‘centralized position within the art world’ (O’Neill, 2012:2). In parallel, artists, such as Marcel Duchamp, increasingly encompassed exhibition design within their own artistic practice and took an active role in the presentation of art. These changes resulted the understanding of curating as 'technical modality to make art go to public’ (Lind, 2009:11). This definition remains popular and even becoming the basis of emerging curatorial training courses since the late 1980s. It has been also critiqued however by ‘artists, curators, artist-‐curators, and curatorial collectives who have continued to question the limits and boundaries of the work of art’ (O’Neill, 2012:1). One such critique, for example, is that curating within the art world splits curators from the ‘totality of art’s social being’ (Beech and Hutchinson in O’Neill, 2008: 59) and is thus disconnected or limited in its ability to articulate actuality. During the last twenty-‐five years curating has been also 'recoded' to include the concepts of curating-‐as-‐practice and the curating-‐as-‐discourse (O’Neill, 2012:1). Although these concepts are ‘dialectically entwined’, they do have separate relations to making art go public. As practice curating is motivated by the end product and the
art on display. As discourse the curatorial is more concerned with ‘the temporality of the event of the exhibition.’ (O’Neill, 2012:2). This recoding in contemporary art is often referred to as 'the curatorial turn' (O’Neill, 2007, 2012, Bismarck et.al. 2012, Lind 2009, 2012). From such phenomena has also emerged the separate concept of ‘the curatorial’ pushing these debates further and introducing an even broader definition. In the last five years the curatorial has been discussed more and more as a ‘field of knowledge’ that crosses disciplines and relates – in general -‐ to ‘the conditions and relations of the appearance of art and culture’ (Bismarck et.al, 2012: 8). Maria Lind, for example, defined it as a ‘viral presence consisting of signification processes and relationships between objects, people, places, ideas, and so forth, that strives to create friction and push new ideas – to do something other than “business as usual” within and beyond contemporary art”. (Lind, 2012:20). The re-‐definition and re-‐naming aims to articulate changes in the understanding of curating, however, as often with the creation of dialectically entwined concepts there is a paradox. On one hand the curatorial now appears to be distinctive from curating and claims that it is less to do with the end product and more to do with discourse as knowledge production. On the other hand to be able to function as discourse, the curatorial relies on curating as its ‘technical modality.’ It is curating that makes ‘explicit the conditions within which [the curatorial] exists’ (Bismarck et. al, 2012: 2). Curating as practice and discourse are not the same but clear separation proves to be difficult even when we use new terminologies, such as ‘the curatorial’. To make this difference more explicit Lind (2012) suggests that the curatorial is to curating like Chantal Mouffe's 'the political' is to 'politics'. Mouffe (2001, 2005) differentiates the aims of 'the political' and 'politics' as divergence over consensus. Politics as daily practice is longing for solution based on consensus. But longing for consensus is anti-‐democratic, as it doesn’t allow pluralistic thinking to avoid antagonistic -‐ and potentially destructive -‐ conflict. Mouffe proposes ‘the political’ as platform for ‘agonistic democracy’, which, without being destructive, allows the existence of conflict and polyphony of voices ‘each of which constitutes its own irreducible discursive identity’ (Mouffe, 2001: 191). According to Lind (2009: 20) where the political resists conformity of consensus in politics, the curatorial challenges the repetition of art historical 'orders' in curating. Lind also sees the curatorial similar to the political in it’s nature as ‘polyphonic’ arena; where the voice of the curator is only one of many. This 'political curatorial' concept compares also with Mikhail Bakhtin's literary concept of 'heteroglossia'. In Discourse in the Novel, Bakhtin described how 'processes of decentralisation and disunification' operate in language alongside 'verbal-‐ideological centralization and unification.' (Cited in Holquist, 1981: 272). Thus for Bakhtin, Mouffe and Lind there is inevitable plurality and conflict in language, politics and art respectively, which cannot be repressed by ‘authoritative’ practices. Bakhtin's analysis of speech, character, narrator and author in literature can extend to relations of artist, curator, objects and architecture in curating.
Lind’s positioning of the curatorial to extend curating into a conflicted pluralistic arena of cultural practice is particularly relevant to an analysis of the exhibition Partners. This exhibition is a good example to explore how narrative exhibition making as pluralistic curatorial strategy can relate to the discursive realm of the curatorial. In Partners (2002), Ydessa Hendeles curated a selection of her own collection over fourteen rooms at the Haus der Kunst, Munich. The exhibition plan (see fig. 1) shows the importance of spatial design in influencing visitors’ reading of the collection. Four rooms near the entrance form an initial cul-‐de-‐sac through which visitors pass and return before or after the rest of the exhibition. The route chosen depends on whether the visitor exits left from the opening room into the main exhibition or ahead into the cul-‐de-‐sac. This spatial design anticipates repeated and reversed viewing of a sequence of four rooms of displayed objects. This distinctive exhibition arrangement suggests a key to reading the curatorial narrative and so I focus my analysis here on this part of the exhibition given its peculiarity. Each room includes varied objects from different times, media and ‘social and aesthetic realms’. (Alphen, 2003: 168). This juxtaposition arouses curiosity and creates confusion in equal measure. The first room displays three modest items. First, on the left, Diane Arbus' Self-‐portrait with camera from 1945 (see fig. 2) shows Arbus as a young woman looking in a mirror from behind a camera. In the centre, John Swartz's The Wild Bunch, c.1900, (see fig. 3) is a photographic studio group portrait of five formally dressed men. Last, on the right, is a vintage wind-‐up tin-‐toy, Minnie Mouse Carrying Felix in Cages, a popular icon from Hollywood ca. 1926-‐36 (see fig.4). An analysis could compare the photographs and the possible power relationships of five men facing one woman, albeit she points the camera at them. The toy’s relationship to the photos appears more ambiguous: a collector’s object placed centrally in the exhibition, it represents the inversion of a (female) mouse capturing a (male) cat. The appearance of this object on the cover of the exhibition catalogue suggests moreover its importance as a key to reading the exhibition. This opening room indicates Hendeles' intention to present artworks alongside cultural memorabilia. Sometimes, her selection and arrangement elevates these artefacts to equal status of artwork itself as with her installation of thousands of everyday photographs featuring teddy bears over the next two rooms of the cul-‐de-‐sac as (Partners) The Teddy Bear Project. (see fig. 5) The photographs are mahogany framed and exhibited floor-‐to-‐ceiling or in standing vitrines. This overwhelming visual display recalls the Wunderkammer, or cabinet of curiosities, of the post-‐Renaissance. This parallel of displaying artifacts whether anthropological, archaeological or ethnographic is a useful, readable and established reference for the viewer. We are looking at cultural objects made significant by their display and reception in a museum. Hendeles' installation reminds of Marcel Duchamp's ‘readymade’, everyday objects chosen by the artist for display and became artworks only in the context of the gallery or museum. The viewer has to slow down and look at the photographs closely to find out what is common in these pictures, why are they kept together and
in this exhibition. The photographs depict people holding, sitting alongside or just being in shot with teddy bears. Hendeles groups the images as 'children', 'soldiers', 'prostitutes, and 'athletes'. Far from ‘sentimentalizing the culture of the Teddy Bear’ (van Alphen 2003:173), this typological display evokes a feeling of 'uncanniness.’ The uncanny, (from German das unheimlich) was studied -‐ amongst others -‐ by psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud and refers to an uncomfortable and frightening feeling that emerges from experiencing something familiar yet alien. The ‘‘'uncanny' – he explained -‐ is frightening precisely because it is not known and familiar’ (Freud, 1919: 1). Vitrines filled with teddy bears close by a taxidermied dog 'sleeping' on the floor amplify this juxtaposition and sensation. This dog is actually a sculptural artwork, Untitled (1998) by Maurizio Cattelan (see fig 6) This object in the exhibition ‘stimulates us into tension,’ (Brooks cited in Alphen, 2003: 171) just like the ambiguous, enigmatic presence of the toy mouse in the first room. In one sense, the dog and mouse are simple representations but reading their relationship to the photographs seems less immediately clear. By now though the viewer recognises a rhythm emerging from the repeated appearance of animals. These animals are only animate through the viewer’s projection of ‘imagined personalities’ onto them (Hendeles, 2003: 215). Through these projections they become metaphors for safety, vulnerability as well as power, violence, danger. The next, last room of the cul-‐de-‐sac is almost empty except a sculpture of the kneeling figure of a 7-‐9 year old boy praying that the viewer only sees from behind. The title is Him, the artist is again Maurizio Cattelan (see fig.7). Walking towards the sculpture the viewer must turn and bend to see the figure’s face that, it transpires, is of an adult Adolf Hitler. This unexpected view creates a sudden shock and interrupts our movement through the exhibition. This is similar to the moment of realisation that the dog of the previous room is not only real but also dead instead of sleeping. A process of re-‐reading the experience and understanding of the exhibition so far begins in the moment of standing above the boy’s figure. Cattelan’s Him (2001) juxtaposes the fragile – Christ-‐like -‐ body of a vulnerable boy with the adult face of Adolf Hitler. Interestingly, the sculpture has been installed before in historical sites such as the Warsaw Ghetto in addition to customary gallery exhibition. It is most often positioned so the viewer approaches the sculpture from behind. As such the sculpture always creates a sudden shock. Yet the viewer’s reaction and reading is different every time the work is reinstalled. Here the re-‐reading starts with the moment of realisation of Hitler’s face, which is also the moment when the viewer sees the photographs in the background with a multitude of other faces. Hendeles’ curatorial approach of juxtaposing objects of the past with contemporary works is an example of what Mieke Bal calls ‘preposterous history’. Preposterous history is an anachronistic concept relating to the reconfiguration of linear narrative. Bal (1999) argues that ‘art’s engagement with what came before involves an active reworking of the predecessor’. (Cited in Alphen 2007: 365) Here the simultaneous view of Him and the old photographs with the teddy bears makes the viewer re-‐read them in conjunction from the present context of their juxtaposition with Him. It is the presence of Him that makes a change in understanding of the old
photographs ‘even though reading them all’ might be ‘both impossible and pointless’. (Bal, 2012: 28) Before we saw the photographs as images from different times and different places showing people from all over the world. Now we just see the sheer volume of faces of people on old photographs, which can be read either as victims or survivors of the Holocaust in front of whom Hitler prays upwards. The re-‐reading of Him is also possible in relation to the teddy bears. The experience of both Him and the bears unsettlingly juxtaposes innocence and evil. These uncanny objects in the exhibition act as 'inspiration' or ‘catalyst’ (Hendeles, 2003: 215) for interpreting ‘the past’ and ‘history’ from ‘the present’. Their juxtaposition creates multiple narratives, perspectives and readings of art, gender, politics and power. Meaning-‐creation occurs through experiencing interrelations and interactions between objects and subjects in the space and time of the exhibition. The narrative can said to be ‘performed’ by the viewer, it develops in the viewer’s head while walking through exhibition. Ernst van Alphen (2003) discusses Partners specifically in terms of being a ‘narrative exhibition’. He argues that while all exhibitions' medium is the narrative, a narrative exhibition works as a narrative. By this he means that the coherence of meaning in most exhibitions comes from 'pre-‐established narrative principles' (Alphen, 2003:166), such as the chronological arrangement in the case of permanent collections or the thematic arrangement of group exhibitions. These certain arrangements pre-‐define the reading of the exhibition, which the reader use as framework to understand the singular objects. Each object is readable in relation to the central narrative principle and through we understand their presence in the same exhibition. In the case of narrative exhibitions there is no pre-‐existing or fixed narrative principle and therefore the coherence of meaning cannot come either from thematic or chronological relationship between objects. In the case of Partners both the title of the exhibition and the selection of objects remain enigmatic. Instead, they point toward ‘mutating meanings of images’ (Hendeles cited in Squiers, 2003:135) and ambiguous relationships between curator and artists, private collector and public museum, Germans and Jews or between artworks. This ambiguity runs throughout the exhibition as point of reference rather than a fixed plot for the narrative. In Exhibition as Film (2012) Mieke Bal further explores this idea of ‘exhibition-‐as-‐ narrative’ introduced by Alphen before and compares curatorial and cinematic mechanisms of narrative construction. Hendeles' use of ‘poetic figures,’ such as ‘contrast’ (crowded room vs. emptiness), ‘counterpoints’ (’innocence’ and ‘evil’) and ‘reiteration’ of dualities (vulnerability and power) compares with cinematic conventions such as zoom-‐in, close-‐up, long-‐shot etc. A close-‐up, for instance, counters the linearity in the narrative and slows down ‘the forward thrust of the plot’. (Bal, 2012: 26). Poetic figures in exhibitions and in films are therefore mechanisms to frame the viewer’s perception and punctuate the narrative. They create ‘affect-‐images’, or moments of suspended time in the narrative. Affect-‐images emerge ‘between the perception that troubles us’ – in other words what we see – ‘and an action we hesitate about’ – in other words what we do next. (Bal, 2012: 35).
Through the lens of Bal's reading the viewer’s experience of Cattalan’s sculptures are like experiencing a cinematic close-‐up. The affect-‐image happens between the moment of the perception of the face of Him and the Teddy Bear Project in the background and our decision of going back to see the photographs again. Similarly, we might also say that seeing the Teddy Bear Project in the background is the equivalent of a long shot and looking at the photographs close is like a zoom-‐in. The curator directs the viewer’s gaze as a cinematographer directs the camera. For the more interested viewer Hendeles’ Notes on the Exhibition (2003), as well as the context of the exhibition, provide further layers of information. These further extend the possibilities of reading but by no way give a key to a singular narrative. For example, the Haus der Kunst (House of Art), which hosts Partners, is a remaining example of Nazi architecture. It was built in the 1930s as House der Deutsche Kunst (House of German Art). As a child of Holocaust survivors, Hendeles constructs a narrative exhibition confronting the literal and metaphorical architecture of National Socialist regime. Her curatorial approach is also read moreover as an exploration of the museum as context of presenting contemporary art. The Teddy Bear Project, for example, blurs boundaries both of what art is as well as who might be an artist. The contemporary museum as context validates vernacular photography as art, while in the framework of the exhibition Hendeles becomes one of the artists. As collector and curator independent from the agenda of the institution Hendeles can ask questions and make decisions about installation that are not usually ‘privileged – or even allowed – in a museum setting’. (Squiers, 2003:142). She can for example appropriate an artist’s work within her own installation or present herself as artist within her own exhibition. Therefore her curatorial approach might be easier to compare with when artists act as curators rather than to the customary approach of a museum curator. Two exhibitions by artists come to mind as comparable examples, both from 1993. In the exhibition The Uncanny (Gemeentemuseum, Arnhem, Holland) (see fig.8) Mike Kelley appropriated artworks, photographs, and everyday objects and used the installation as metaphor to ‘mirror contemporary art world problems’ around technological Utopianism (Kelley cited in Iversen, 2005:1). His installation 'revived a "conservative" form of display, which he intended as a post-‐ modern recuperation of the outmoded' (ibid). Germania, (see fig. 9 and 10) curated by artist Hans Haacke’s at the 45th Venice Biennial, juxtaposed documentary photograph of Hitler visiting the Biennial in 1934 and a demolished floor to reference Hitler's demand for redesigning the German pavilion between 1934 and 1938. This installation elicited associations with German history, especially the ‘irreconcilable divide between the Nazi past and present usage of this site of exhibition' (Jordan and Haladyn, 2008). These exhibitions by artists are comparable to Partners through their appropriation of archival material, cultural objects and artworks. They all provide contemporary approach to act upon the past and move the viewer 'beyond the literal object to a level of metaphor without being connoisseurs in the various disciplines of the pieces on display.'
(Ferrando-‐Hendeles, 2012) Furthermore, they are also examples of the curatorial exploring the conditions of making art public in art institutions.U Conclusion Although curating chronological and thematic exhibitions is most popular in museum settings their reliance on unique art objects and archival material as evidence of History might be limiting. Reading the curatorial model of Ydessa Hendeles’ Partners allows examination of how the exhibition-‐as-‐narrative can address complex histories differently from standard chronological or thematic display of objects. The unpacking of the contemporary discourse of ‘the curatorial’ establishes a framework for both reading the exhibition and understanding the wider field of my research. Partners is also an example of an exhibition as polyphonic platform where multiple – and often conflicted – readings of the past becomes possible. The curatorial approach acts on the past without repeating what is canonical in history. It also provides different perspectives through which viewers can develop their own understanding. Central to this is exhibiting and elevating the historical significance of everyday cultural artefacts through their framing them within the art museum. This gesture brings up questions of what we value as significant, but also how we construct history through selection. Hendeles’ way of appropriating contemporary artworks to provide a new perspective on objects from the past is essentially creative and given parallels in contemporary art practice such as installation art can be considered an artwork in itself. It also became clear that exhibition-‐design is a particularly important in this respect. It invites the viewer to actively read and even ‘perform the narrative while walking through the chosen passage. The exhibition unfolds through the temporal event of the visitor’s journey. These are all strategies, which stretch exhibition-‐making to become a democratic platform for polyphonic and conflicted voices.
Fig. 1.: Exhibition floor plan (2001). In: Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, 5.
Fig.2.: Arbus, Diana: Self-‐Portrait with Camera (February 1945). [photograph] In Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, 25.
Fig 3.: Swartz, John: The Wild Bunch (ca.1900). [photograph] In. Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, 27.
Fig.4.: R.S. (La Isla Toys): Minnie Mouse Carrying Felix (ca. 1926-‐36). [wind-‐up tin-‐ toy]. In Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, [cover image]
Fig. 5.: Hendeles, Ydessa: (Partners) The Teddy Bear Project (2001). [detail and installation view]. In Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, 32.
Fig. 6.: Cattelan, Maurizio: Untitled (1998). [sculpture]. In Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, 35.
Fig.7: Cattelan, Maurizio: Him. (2001). [exhibition views of sculpture]. In Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, 42
Fig.8: Cattelan, Maurizio: Him. (2001). [exhibition views of sculpture]. In Partners, [exhibition catalogue], Munich: Hause der Kunst, 42 Bibliography Alphen, E van. (2003). Exhibition as Narrative Work of Art. In Dercon, C. – Weski, T. eds. Partners, Koln: Walther Konig, 166-‐185. Bal, M. (1999) Quoting Caravaggio: Contemporary Art, Preposterous History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Bal, M. (2007) Exhibition as Film. In MacDonald, S. – Basu, P. eds. Exhibition Experiments. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 71-‐93. Beech, D. – Hutchinson, M. (2007) Inconsequential Bayonets? A Correspondence on Curation, Independence and Collaboration. In O’Neill, P. ed. Curating Subjects. London: Open Editions, 53-‐62. Bismarck, B. von et.al eds. (2012) Cultures of the Curatorial. Gothenburg: Sternberg Press.
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