Wit of the staircase




Today I had a conversation with a visitor about dissemination and the space:

How is the artwork disseminated? Is there a permanent display of multiples here? 1)

Is this a space for artists or does it reach out to those outside of the community (ie. outreach)? 2)

What possibilities do young artists (in China) produce for themselves, and why might they not be undertaking “artist-initiated projects”? What possibilities do they see in the ways that older artists work? 3)

Is developing a different vocabulary for talking about art different from producing art differently, or creating a different type of system/going beyond the current boundaries? 4)

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1) This depends on what is considered the art work, and also what is considered dissemination. Books are certainly able to be distributed; art works can also be, but this is also a delicate distinction, because we may not be talking about distribution in the same way (see note 4). Some activities, like the current lunch delivery project, take on distribution and extension as central aspects, but it is of course still limited to a small scale. The Internet must be recognized as a space where not just information and news but real artworks or at least parts of them are distributed. But this form of participation has its drawbacks, namely a surfeit of non-participation: the clicking of a button, the infantile acceptance of friendship, or at best a catty exchange on the comment board. However, I can acknowledge that dissemination, in the sense of re-distribution of power rather than of materials or information, is something to work on, and has a lot to do with note 2.

2) That’s a good question, but we should be cautious in assuming we know what a public is. We can see many examples of situations flush with visitors, “outsiders” or perhaps a community, but we both agree that this is not necessarily a community, not necessarily a context of sustainable engagement. The jobs of education departments of many museums are to produce awareness; larger galleries also have such wings; but then we wonder what the difference is between PR and education. Or perhaps the point is not about producing awareness, but producing a public; I brought up examples I know from the West, a certain understanding of the “pubic good” of culture, which is admittedly of historical origin. In Germany, the Kunstverein system is an example that sticks out in my mind of hybrid funding and support strategies, a mix of state- or city-money, an association composed of membership and private sponsors (in Frankfurt where I lived this was of course the job of the banks), and this scheme comes from a bourgeois tradition and appreciation of new and free culture. In Canada, where I am from, there is a system of artist-run-centres that date to the political activism of artists in the 1960s and 1970s—this is not to say that Canadians inevitably think of these institutions as political, but the origins are in such a context. Both of these are examples of institutions that are officially dedicated to experimental, contemporary culture, backed by at least a certain amount of political will. I am no expert, but I have read theories of others (for example the sociologist Wang Jing) who state that there is no middle-class tradition established here. Does this mean that the situation is “pre-bourgeois,” that we are waiting for such a tradition to develop here, from rapid economic development? Perhaps from an urban planner’s imagination this would be one explanation. But still we haven’t cracked that nut of what the “public” is. One way to consider space is as a form of production, and that the public begins in the interactions between those involved, therefore leaving the reception as a suspended question, like the act of writing. Perhaps waiting for the ‘star friend’ to arrive sounds pretty smug as an institutional protocol, but maybe we also take for granted what we expect from so-called institutions, and the degrees of personal responsibility can be the basis for a judgment (for example, whether it seems like the outcome of an ideosyncratic decision of one in power, or an expression of a necessity, is to be decided case-by-case). That’s the ideology, anyway: if it doesn’t scare them away, then it will inspire them.

3) I don’t know what younger artists see as a possibility within the current structure here, and I assumed that to a certain extent this is from my ignorance of the particularities of what one can aspire to. How I had answered was that many might see that money can be made within this current system, so why would a new one be invented. This may seem like a cynical response, but actually it is not based on a judgmental attitude, but rather “realism”; however I have no proof it is even true. Surely there are some initiatives and individuals that are exceptions to my generalization. But this problem is not locally-bound to the exaggerations of Beijing’s cavernous studio industry. Institutional constraints happen to exist in every system, from the forgetfulness of the reason for production in the case of ample funding, the bureacratization of artistic approaches in public funding situations, or artists being used by projects state-funded to stage expressions of national identity, to the philanthropy of private companies instrumentalizing art for its good image, to the romanticization of the reality of working under repression.

4) My language takes on the slipperiness of uncertainty at times because it seems that I am in unfamiliar territory. Some things have been overcome, like an earlier aversion to the word “creativity”, which carries with it the baggage of today’s quasi-culture of yeah yeah yeah, which rarely attempts to critically pinpoint; but criticism too clearly understood can become such a patently-obvious defender of the public good that it can overlook possibilities of loosening grip—for example loosening the grip and purview of the term creativity to allow things from “outside” to enter (though from a loosened perspective the inside and outside mean less and less). Another example, the word “distribution” can also mean selling a piece, which can confuse our association of distribution in its central concern to, say, conceptual art, and its at-the-time assumption of democratizing art’s reception and participation. In fact this is not a contradiction, though it can seem so when we look at old black and white photographs of conceptual artists (Alexander Alberro has described how marketing entered very early into conceptual art’s self-definition), and this association is probably oriented on a Western set of priorities. But how can distribution continue to be something interesting, part of the work, part of the work’s problem; this may be a more useful way to think about it. A final example, calling a space the shop may seem like a twisting of the vocabulary while maintaining the structural uniformity of art spaces (though I think that if one were to look at the activities of the space, this might not be so self-evident; I think this has a lot to do with note 2 as well). Words can sometimes point to the distance between their own received definitions and the situations in which they are used; it is and it isn’t. On this question of language I feel a certain ambivalence, because on the one hand I want to eliminate the holding of tongues or the idea that one must project positivity or success, but on the other hand the proper language doesn’t exist. Something between a belief in these personal investments and pet-terms, and their confrontation with the widely circulated and comprehended emancipation-speech (the keywords that will unlock one’s position in the field) may be where the meaning occurs. Admittedly, this third-way idea is by now a rhetorical old-chestnut.

Response from the visitor:

1- first of all, this question simply came from the impression of the function of the space i got from the name ‘the shop’. now i understand i shall interpret it on a theoretical level instead of focusing on relating it to the daily activities of the space. however the discussion we had spin off to examine the substance of the function. i think for this question, we are trying to discuss what is being disseminate and what dissemination means in the context of art world. i doubt that we want to go as far as asking for the definition of art work. the action of dissemination only can activate certain aspects of art work. in terms of the activities happening in the space, it can be viewed on two levels. first are the ones contained in the art work itself, for example the lunch project. the space serves the role as a host in this case. second are the activities of the space as a facilitator/programmer in the process of dissemination. i like how you described the dissemination at the end of this note. however i would say it is the re-distribution of power through the distribution of materials or information.
2- it’s kind of sad to face the actuality here as we are trying to identify the common ground of ‘public’ in order to proceed with this discussion. you brought up something very important as the difference between PR and education and the subsequent approach to take to produce the according public. to be specific, the type of outreach i am talking about here is more like creating a space for the exchange of experience. in that sense, the idea of public is a loose definition and the expected outcome is random. if we try to relate the public to certain class of the society, inevitably the line between PR and education blurs.
3) heheheh, i tried to search for any missing scenario of institutional constraints besides the ones you listed here and could not think of any more. i guess the initiative i am talking about here is the mentality of overturning the conventional interpretation of certain situation and come up with a new concept to cope with it. as for what can be built on top of this process of conceptualizing, it depends on the situation. of course in reality it is way more complicated than a simply generalized sentence. i remember you brought up the word ‘cultural blindness’ last time. same word can be applied here i guess, in relation to the way of interpreting a relevant past and applying to the current.
4- i have to admit that the confusion of mine triggered me to ask this question was from the way i posit the priority of the space. once i connect the priority to the nature of the space, i was able to re-examine my question in a more proper context and to shift my focus from the execution to the theoretical level. how can theoretical significance overcome the somewhat mismatch execution and reveal itself with a more balanced assistance? i guess that is something we all want to explore.
(originally posted on the Vitamin Creative Space blog, 17/04/2010)

Enthusiasts

I had a discussion with a friend about enthusiasm, within a discussion about alienation (for instance, the splitting of oneself between one’s work and one’s job) – a type of enthusiasm that burns through categories, making one’s work in general total, unfragmented, all over the result of one mind, a unified will. Then is one not only not an artist or architect or writer or baker, but one doesn’t even make art, design architecture, write or bake – one produces – perhaps it could be called producing oneself, since all other categories are externally decided divisions. My friend regarded enthusiasm as the most important part of his work (pausing for a moment to ask me where the Michael he knew had gone, the one who smiled and played the drums in his studio). If skepticism and doubt are considered conservative traits (and they usually aren’t) then I suppose in the conversation I appeared as a self-preserving or gullible person who would maintain the distinctions and classifications so as to feel a sense of order and control; to preserve the world the way it has been handed to me in order to not get lost in an indeterminate and unfamiliar, new place. Where imagination and ideas patrol like devastating, formless, productive cyclones. I am not so sure that repeating or reiterating these titles – putting on the guise of one of these roles – or doing/performing these actions while denying the titles or identities (which still describes a thing with its associations) – is conservative. I likened it to the idea of the experiment: (perhaps temporary) assumption of an identity “other” than our own, which perhaps seems to presuppose a certain claim to self-understanding and also objectivity and distance, but is a way to experience something “else”.

In light of enthusiasm, a character is an awkward and extraneous obstacle, a bit of ornament, or a growth to be worked on therapeutically. It is an excuse to dampen enthusiasm (“that other one is in my way”) or to deviate irrationally (a turn of direction, an external influence, the assumption of a position), a choice or fragmentation or relativism because this other character or this character (being one) offers its set of behaviours and habitat as traits, externalities to try on, settle into, rebuke or throw away. As a tool for thinking, characters bring with them in codes and chains and even whole bodies the resources to measure associations and those tendencies we take as given components of our identities. A character has to play wholeheartedly, however, otherwise it risks showing us nothing but tactical manoeuvres (though these motions, these deviations could be profitable or not, could be advances, or breaks, in a rising trajectory) –  maybe not wholeheartedly but at least completely superficially, covering every curve; again, risking the implication of a centred perspective, that one knows who one is, beyond all the characters. The commitment that gives enthusiasm its good name is not avoided through this logic, but for better or worse desire can become confused. We can stray and warp, and we don’t necessarily return to an original, a true position. We return to an alienated position, but clearer as alienated through the character’s lessons.

(originally posted on the Vitamin Creative Space blog, 07/08/2009)

Amélie

Undertaking such activities as sewing together a bunch of banana leaves discovered in plastic under my bed in my new apartment and installing the assemblage on my balcony to give something for the neighbors to look at; I suddenly find a pair of eyes staring at me from within my conscience: those eyes belong to Amélie.
She performs only for herself – she makes art projects that are private and not art,(1) though her projects have almost homeopathic effects. There is a discipline to her distractions, a retaining of commitment to childish games; because of this and her big eyes, she looks like a little girl. Her mischief to help others by some twist is also a commitment to her body and health, there is nothing desperate about her. That is why we hate her.
We also make art at home. We sometimes wonder why our lives don’t have theme music and magic, and we wonder and wonder and think and think, while Amélie acts decisively on numerous self-improvements, like some innocent conceptual artist.
We also make artwork in our daily lives, small changes to our environments, modifications to our ‘communities’ – but then we document it, distancing ourselves from the effects. Not Amélie. Her clandestine aesthetics circulate in the realm of concrete but tacit results. Everyday life is the medium, but the message remains embedded in a life, in a lifestyle, in a narrative.
Somehow, as if cursed with the gift of clairvoyance, we have access to this narrative – we witness this private world as if we are right there, jaundicedly scrutinizing her happy-go-lucky attitude, her silent deeds, her flirtations with oblivion; we forget about the distance entailed as the necessity of its being made visible. It’s a film, after all. We are caught wanting Amélie as a role model while knowing she isn’t pure (this consideration takes place slightly prior to the consideration that she isn’t real).
My banana leaf fan curls anemically and looks atrocious; I have no desire to see that movie again.

1) I remember a young performance artist telling the audience at a presentation in Kassel, Germany about a performance in which she would hold onto the sleeve of an unwitting person in a parking lot, letting go only after an unpredictable but supposedly non-arbitrary length of time. She explained nothing to her temporary host. Surely this was art – but at what point did this gesture become art? Only when she told the audience about it. But nobody in the audience remarked on that. Marina Abramovic, on the panel, said “It sounds like a very intense piece.”

(originally posted on the Vitamin Creative Space blog, 23/07/2009)

Keywords School in the Giardini of the Universal

It is evening and Xu Tan pops his head into my room. I am on my bed, producing a watercolor. He says, excuse me, gentleman, can I ask you something? Yes, sure, what is it boss, I answer.
I wanted to ask about the word ‘efficiency’.
Well, that’s an awfully big word.
Xu Tan sits down. Does it have something to do with reason?
I suppose reason can lead to efficiency, but there is a related concept, rationality, to rationalize, that is more relevant I guess.
Xu Tan nods. Remember that Keywords School participant from Israel, the performance artist, she protested that keywords are too efficient. To her that was a problem.
Yes, I remember, I was glad she challenged the format we had been using. I see her point, but I always thought that keywords had a double potential: one to cut short discussion, to dumb down an interaction to assumed understanding; and the other to invite elaboration, if one took the time to be aware of the way the keywords were used.
Xu Tan nods again, his hands look as though they are practicing new gestures. He says, keywords are approximations; the keywords way is through approximate understandings; we almost understand. Actually I don’t think keywords are true or correct. We had an Italian who explained to us his interest in the project, which he noticed was also inscribed into the physical “structure” of the school, was that words form an endless chain sequence “sign signifying a sign signifying a sign…” (in Italian, the more effective “significante significante significante…”).
I think about this tunnel to infinity and my brain hits an obstacle: But somehow the discussions were still about things. Maybe not truths, but things anyway.
Suddenly I remember the day we finished installation and Xu Tan, looking at the school structure and the perky white-board sign I had just written on that announced courses, wondered aloud if it looked like a missionary camp in the jungles of Vietnam.
We were talking about politics, and society, and translation, I point out, as I feel a shadow of doubt creep over me as to whether those were really signs, or things as I had just claimed.
Yes, we had some good discussions, he agrees.
I realize that despite the similar routine I had heard new things each day, and was rarely bored. One American participant, I continue, had given us the keyword “sparse”, because of its aesthetic meaning for her. She said that it’s important because it represents a certain type of English word that is short and dense but has a very specific meaning; as a keyword that is completely inefficient I think.
Yes, we heard many interesting things that will be good for my research, he says.
People often asked what the research was for; I suppose that was more the visitors, as opposed to the participants, who kind of understood directly through the practice of talking (although who knows, and some even snuck away). For some of these visitors, I can imagine the image of information they saw, the title of ‘School’, and maybe its location near the café, independent in the Giardini, confused many people who didn’t recognize these forms as ‘art’; on the other hand, if they identified it as an educational device (some were delighted we seemed to be offering Chinese language courses in the Biennale, as if a wry comment on language dominance), or a quasi-NGO, maybe they didn’t see it as efficient.
Xu Tan smiles, yes all of these people who called me teacher, but actually they were teaching me. The title “Keywords School” is also approximate, as there are really no students or teachers in that sense of school. I would tell people it is more like a workshop.
Yes, but I also think the word workshop is a bit misleading too, because it makes you think that you are there to learn a skill, and if I think about it as an art piece, as a participatory art piece, that requirement of getting something out of it becomes less important. It is like maintaining a certain frame of mind for a certain amount of time, so to me there was something performative about it.
Xu Tan holds up a finger, yes, but in a workshop you can also produce something, which is what we were doing.
That’s true, and there is a difference between this production and for example just sending out emails asking for keywords. This difference is so important for the project, maybe some visitors who saw it as just a database of keywords didn’t realize this.
But that’s okay. Because to me as long as the research is interesting it’s good. And some days we had just a couple of participants but the discussions went so deep. That is very important.
That was what was interesting about the Venice Biennale as a context for producing this project. You would have expected that we would come out with a kind of keywords Esperanto with limitless participants from all different parts of the world, and indeed the sign up sheet looked like a rainbow, but the context in reality is somewhat different. Many people’s plans changed. I think this is in fact such a big part of the project that has to be considered for next time. An institution needs specific kinds of connections with an appropriate public for this piece – I am not sure if you would consider this an actual aspect of the piece, how it fits or doesn’t fit with institutions…
Xu Tan pauses, then says, no, I don’t think this is a necessary part of the piece.

Then we eat dinner and enjoy it because He Cong is cooking.

(originally posted on the Vitamin Creative Space blog, 29/06/2009)

Runny Honey

An obscure amount of time ago, a mysterious bee farm materialized on a sliver of land next to an overpass of the 5th Ring Rd. One day while on my daily commute, approaching the boxes, seemingly busy with bees, I looked upon the large containers and asked about acquiring their smallest jar. Asking what source the bees were collecting their pollen from, the apiarist indicated mostly trees, which seemed pretty reasonable. Because of the heat, the honey was loose as water and had an ambiguous sweet scent; I paid 26 Yuan for my 500grams and continued on my way.

Opening the jar at the office and tasting the substance for the first time, it became clear relatively fast that it was at least in large part not real honey, but some compound of sugar syrup and flavouring. It also didn’t thicken, and remained a viscous watery solution.

Some days ago I rode by again to find the whole enterprise had simply disappeared.

The bottle sitting in the office is now only a bulky golden trophy of willingness on both sides of an exchange; to make believe, and to believe; in making something from nothing and individual inventiveness, in experimentation and variability and all kinds of adventures. Now no longer even a mysterious substance whose origins are a mystery, it is simply a charmingly coloured unuseable residue; as a luminous, urinary-ethereal illusion, it glows and is a reminder of itself.

(originally posted on the Vitamin Creative Space blog, 17/07/2010)