“I’d been fascinated at the beginning of the seventies by some questions that had been put to Alain Robbe-Grillet, which made him writhe against theories like an upside-down cat: “Let’s say I’m old-fashioned. For me, all that counts are the works of art.”
“The works of art! These days such ingenuousness would trigger laughter. At Documenta 13, separating work and theory would have been seen as very old-fashioned, because there, according to all the information I had, you saw a great many works under the ambiguous umbrella of innovation presented as theory and vice versa. It was the triumphant and now almost definitive reign of the marriage between practice and theory, to such an extent that if ou casually came across a rather classical-looking piece, you’d soon discover it was nothing more than theory camouflaged as a work. Or a work camouflaged as theory.
“Was there any artist at Kassel with sufficient courage to just hang a painting on the wall, a straighforward painting? I imagined the great peals of laughter that would ring out if it occurred to some poor brave devil to hang a canvas on a wall in the Fridericianum. It seemed nobody there wanted to be regarded as terribly old-fashioned, so there was no way of seeing painting anywhere.”
– Enrique Vila-Matas, The Illogic of Kassel, p. 69
– Untilled, characters who appear in Enrique Vila-Matas’s novel, by Pierre Huyghe at Documenta 13
Strangely, I happened to be involved in the Documenta 12 Magazine Project through <<empyre>> soft_skinned_space, a listserv onto which I have foisted my sometimes welcome, mostly unwelcome, and usually ignored observations, reflections and scribblage.
The following I wrote into the listserv under the subject heading of “Fugue” – which is interesting in so far as I have in front of me a volume by Sergio Pitol with a foreword by Enrique Vila-Matas, the writer of the foregoing on Documenta 13, entitled The Art of Flight. The English translator of this work, George Henson, apologises, that “already in the title” he has failed, because the Spanish fuga translates as both fugue and flight and in the original Spanish, the book is called El arte de la fuga. The Art of Fugue. Indirectly, for Documenta 12, I wrote:
the following I pursued for my own interest: I apologise if there’s nothing in it.
Roger Beurgel [artistic director of Documenta 12. It was Roger Beurgel’s “provocation”, on the question, Is Modernity our Antiquity? that led the discussion, here] in quotes:
âIt is fairly obvious that modernity, or modernityâs fate, exerts a profound influence on contemporary artists.â
How is modernity tied to its fate that, either the thing itself or the myth, exerts a pull â as if equally and interchangeably? And if there isnât anything in itself there? Only the mythic Fate, then isnât this a description of tragedy? Is a degree of that influence to do with the desire not just to reinstaurate the determinism or fatalism of modernity on its certain path but to redeem it?
âPart of that attraction may stem from the fact that no one really knows if modernity is dead or alive.â
Which suggests exactly the spectral/corp(u)s/e mode modernity was so good at advancing: and pomo was so good at extracting â half-life apparitions and death-drive amortisations.
âIt seems to be in ruins after the totalitarian catastrophes of the 20th century (the very same catastrophes to which it somehow gave rise).â
Surely, that âsomehowâ, tenuously holding on, like spectral rider to ghoulish horse, confirms that the modernity described here is in the grand European tragic style â or pomo pastiche thereof. The taste for setting such great store by aesthetics (however deeply internally politicised or outwardly conceptual and dematerialised), that âtotalitarian catastrophesâ ensue from them, is modernist at the fascist end of the spectrum.
âIt seems utterly compromised by the brutally partial application of its universal demands (libertĂ©, Ă©galitĂ©, fraternitĂ©) or by the simple fact that modernity and coloniality went, and probably still go, hand in hand.â
As a colonial antipode â foot in hand, sometimes in mouth â Iâve thought a little about colonialismâs place in respect of modernity. My view, from NZ, of modernity is only historically, not âutterly,â âcompromisedâ by the cultural marginalisation that goes hand-in-hand with modernityâs centralist concerns. But this issue brings us round to whether modernity has a political armature in praxis, a Realpolitik, such that it could be âbrutally partialâ in the application of demands that are by no means âuniversalâ nor endemic to modernity, as an era (or a constellation, an infirmament, of historically informed assumptions and happenstance).
The secular nation-state, to my mind, better expresses the political ideas and ideals of the modern era, and of modernity, than the Colonial Empire. The failure of the former â in its current crisis or decadence â offers perhaps a clearer index to the vivacity or morbidity of a political modernity.
âStill, peopleâs imaginations are full of modernityâs visions and forms (and I mean not only Bauhaus but also arch-modernist mind-sets transformed into contemporary catchwords like âidentityâ or âcultureâ).â
There is something about this âtransformationâ (of âarch-modernist mindsetsâ) that merits discussion. I think it was Brett, forgive me if Iâm wrong, who said that postmodernism is built on the foundations of modernism. Christine has poked a little, deservedly, at the idea of Hegelian synthesis, in the n-state. In both views there inheres the idea of transformation â a redemption even of modernist assumptions. I think this archaeological impulse, this restorative âmoralâ and critical project â such, indeed, that the question heading this discussion can be asked â may be promoted by precisely the kind of spectacular mise-en-scene we see in Roger Beurgelâs statement on modernity.
âIn short, it seems that we are both outside and inside modernity, both repelled by its deadly violence and seduced by its most immodest aspiration or potential: that there might, after all, be a common planetary horizon for all the living and the dead.”
Pa Ubu: âHornstrumpet! We shall not have succeeded in demolishing everything unless we demolish the ruins as well. But the only way I can see of doing that is to use them to put up a lot of fine, well-designed buildings.â
Finally, a brief word regarding the n-state, an idea with its own fascination; and Iâd like to know more about its provenance; since, as well as zipping up a certain bodybag â synthetic teeth mesh â it also iterates management/bureaucratic themes of âtechnological progress and infrastructural improvementsâ. (By way of contrast, inspired by a Polish grandmother on a European train, â82, I chanced on the related idea of ân-setâ â a play on âNZâ and also an acronym. The grandmother said that all her countrymen were doing in those days was watching satellite TV and making babies â âlike Africa!â she said.
(N-SET became a script-scenario dealing with a covert (insurgence) operation starting in Poland to postmodernise via mediaâs softsell immersion the East and West and foment political revolution: to postmediatise consciousness. N-SET stands for ânon-specified enemy territoryâ â carrying forward its scenario through random acts of state-sponsored terror, according to the view that the civilian population as a whole is the only object on which a postmodern war can be waged.)
– Fairytale, 1,001 chairs, Ai Weiwei, at Documenta 12