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| Peter Werner on Sat, 16 Nov 96 06:01 MET |
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| nettime: Transnacionala review |
"TRANSNACIONALA": A New World Order Comes To Seattle
by Frances DeVuono
[from "Aorta: Contmporary Arts and Culture", Oct/Nov 96]
The "Transnacionala" project, an ambitious international call for an
art nation, came to Seattle for three days this July and left with
barely a public ripple. Produced locally by Larry Reid and Charles
Krafft, "Transnacionala" was spawned by Slovenian artists who
comprise the industrial rock group Laibach, a theater collective, and
the visual art collective called IRWIN. In the early '90s these
artists, who collectively referred to themselves as Neue Slowenische
Kunst (New Slovenian Art, or simply NSK), founded their own art
"nation". Part performance, part critique, they have issued passports
to their art nation-as-an-idea in England, Poland, Germany, Slovenia,
Bosnia, and the U.S. Traveling from Atlanta in two large recreational
vehicles, this trip was predicated on the idea of meeting with
artists throughout the country.
NSK's appearance in Seattle began with a well-attended "diplomatic"
reception at the Kline-Galland Mansion. While a big band played such
nostalgic numbers as "Summertime" and "It Had to Be You" on the side
lawn, IRWIN artists were busy taking photos and stamping out
passports to their transglobal nation in a smoky, sweltering hot back
room on the first floor. These little booklets, purchased for a mere
$30, were the only real art objects that exchanged hands during their
stay here, and a few prints on display in the mansion were the only
visible evidence of their work. The purpose of this trip was about
the exchange of ideas.
It was difficult to tell whether this was conceptual art at its most
austere or art theory at its most arch. In the written material which
describes their planned sojourn here, Eda Cufer, spokeswoman for NSK
wrote: "One cannot avoid the simple macropolitical contextualization
and interpretation of the 'Transnacionala' project as a meeting and
confrontation of the two myths (the U.S.. and Russia) of our recent
history, in which Slovenia plays the role of a minor, hardly known
actor in the westernmost post of the Eastern territory on the
planetary geostrategic map." 1 With dialogue as arcane as this,
perhaps it is not surprising that attendance for the two days' worth
of symposia after the reception dropped off precipitously. But in
many ways that is unfortunate. For all their talk and their heavy-
handed use of post-modern language, these artists highlighted
difference - not only between east and west, but between developed
commercial art spheres and art on the periphery' between rich nations
and poor, and between cultures which have a rich history of
intellectual fervor and cultures which pride themselves on "Just
doing it".
A five-plus hour symposium was held at the Fremont Fine Arts Foundry.
Slovenian artists from IRWIN, Russian artists Alexander Brener, Vadim
Fiskin, and Yuri Leiderman were joined by Steven Shapiro, a cultural
scholar at the University of Washington, Stuart Swezey, editor of
Amok Journal, and the Foundry's own best known conceptual artist,
James L. Acord. The sum was an oddly ramified collection of ideas.
Comparisons between art's apparent freedom here and former Soviet
repression were suggested by broadcasting a telephone conversation
with the then incarcerated Jason Sprinkle. Perhaps that struck the
Europeans a bit like listening to shrimp entrepreneur Forrest Gump
talk about NAFTA trade agreements. In any event they did not publicly
comment. Neither did they respond to Shapiro's very relevant remarks
that today "it is hard to imagine artists playing an avant-garde role
in contemporary culture [because] . . . everything is culture; the
difference between art and advertising is too difficult to define."
He ended his talk with a key observation for anyone curious about art
theory in the developed world, by pointing out that "in America with
its economic imperialism there is no more polarization, simply an
intricate spiral of economies." Acord described his odyssey through
the bureaucracies of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission to equally
little response. The highlight of the forum was Russian performance
artist Alexander Brener's piece. Ignoring Shapiro's claims about art
in America, Brener's work hearkened back to an era when art was seen
as revolutionary. Since Brener spoke no English, fellow Russian
Fiskin offered to act as his interpreter, and an awkward rhythm was
established. Like a poorly subtitled movie, Brener's long streams of
Russian dialogue would be met with a few English sentences. First,
Brener indicated that the world needed to be destroyed before art
could be made. He then professed admiration for the Unabomber and
ended (through the translation) with the claim that "since he wasn't
a chemical scientist, can't produce a bomb, all he has is big hands,
so he'd like to go to New York and box."
It is often easy for us to forget the mythic image that America
projects to the rest of the world. And the small number who attended
the next day's discussion, held in the back of the Speakeasy Cafe (in
an even smaller, hotter, smokier room than the Foundry's), were given
the opportunity to hear, explicitly and implicitly how IRWIN artists
see the West. Most significantly, Cufer stated that she found not
necessarily "language differences - Slovenian/English or
Russian/English, but different theories." Uniformly, IRWIN spoke of a
lack of both history and theory in their native Slovenia. Borut
Vogelnik pointed out that, "In Slovenia theory was not distributed,
[and] if it is not distributed it does not exist." Dusan Mandic more
passionately added, "The whole structure was already organized. The
period from the '30s to nowadays . . . it's like it doesn't even
exist; if you want comparison, you cannot find the sources. Now it is
important to build our own interstructures."
For those closely following NSK today, it is useful to put them in an
historical, (albeit recent) context. In the late '80s the art
collective IRWIN had successful exhibitions in New York and other art
centers of the western world, and their work was seen as a near
prototype for the post-modernism being discussed at that time. They
tended to fill gallery spaces with lush painterly pieces, filled with
appropriated images from a host of art idioms. Usually shown salon
style, it was as if the efforts of this group (where no one work was
ever attributed to single authorship) were a vast conflation of
European modernism with no one locus, either personal or historical.
Indeed, in the manifestos published alongside their work, the crux of
their concern was modern history's biggest bugaboo - the nation-
state.
At this time, IRWIN was avowedly pro-Slovenian and they made liberal
and curious use of totalitarian imagery, particularly images from the
Third Reich. Like their counterparts in the Slovenian musical group,
Laibach, who dressed in SS uniforms, these public displays of Nazi
regalia were deliberately disturbing. But today these artists, as
members of the NSK, repeatedly distance themselves from early
accusations of sympathy for Hitler's brand of fascism. Nationalism,
however, is another matter.
Neue Slowenische Kunst's nationalistic fervor, their cry for a
national theory, their mourning of lost history, may seem oddly
anachronistic to us here. Indeed the Contemporary Art Council of the
Seattle Art Museum was quoted describing NSK as "passe." But that
dismissal may speak more of our tendency to see ideas in art as mere
trends. While theorizing in the visual arts has dropped off since the
80s, our ability to ignore theory and national style arguably comes
from a place of privilege. While that privileged art world is
increasingly multi-national, it is still lodged in the wealthiest of
nations. We need only look at the United States' rise to power in
world culture during the post-World War II period. As the U.S.
entered the world stage with Jackson Pollock as their poster boy, he
was portrayed as intuitive and personal rather than intellectual and
political. Writers like Clement Greenberg, in describing the
significance of his work and the New York School, were quick to claim
an "American painting." The ability to create a movement with an
impact as large as the New York School of that period clearly had to
do with positions of power and it took more than either great theory
or great painting to place the U.S. in its dominant position. In
1949, James T. Soby wrote that it would take federal economic
intervention on the part of the United States in a war-torn Europe to
make the notion of an American avant-garde succeed. And it did. 2
In this light, the slightly stiff, often boring presentations of talk
by this earnest group of Eastern Europeans suggests something rather
important. Obviously the nationalism espoused by NSK has little to do
with the modernist notion of nation-state and everything to do with
cultural autonomy. And while cultural autonomy in the extreme can
become xenophobic and dangerous (witness the former Yugoslavia
itself), its need to be heard is too crucial to ignore. We live in a
world too small and too complicated to do less than listen.
1 Eda Cufer. "First Letter, Transnacionala, A Journey from East to
West Coast, June 28 -July 28" (press materials, 1996).
2 Serge Guilbaut, "How New York Stole the Idea of Modern Art", Arthur
Goldhammer, trans. (Chicago. London: University of Chicago Press. 1983),
pp. 193-94.
Soby was writing for The Saturday Review when he called for federal
intervention, approximately one year after Clement Greenberg heralded
"The Decline of Cubism," in Partisan Review, publicly challenging the
cultural hegemony of Paris.
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