The Estheticist is a free ongoing service of art consultation around practical, philosophical and ethical issues around the visual arts profession. To ask a question, email estheticist@aol.com. Participants accept that their questions may be used for a printed publication that will serve as a professional development tool for emerging professionals in the arts. Please specify if you want to remain anonymous in your request.

QUESTIONS TO THE ESTHETICIST

July 2010

Dear Estheticist,

As a an educator, should I be encouraging my students to make what I think is truly challenging work or work that will be easily consumed and integrated within a professional or academic market? Where does the greater responsibility lie, to each student and their livelihoods or to my future hopes for society?

please don’t answer “both”

Encouraging Educator,  San Juan, Puerto Rico

Dear Encouraging Educator,

You are making that assumption that by encouraging your students to make truly challenging work you will negatively impact your students livelihoods, which I am not certain is the case. But let’s set aside financial considerations for a minute and think about a few comparisons: Should a law professor teach his students to be efficient crooks so that they can quickly ascend to become the next corrupt government or should he teach them to fight to defend social and civil values? Should a medical student rather learn boy scout first aid techniques or how to do heart surgery?

As an arts professional, you are entrusted with the education of young people who are easily impressionable.

At a first glance, making commercial work may seem to them a more viable career opportunity; in reality, it only turns them into mediocre individuals who will never know any better. As their professor, it is your duty to show them that commercial success in art is a possible byproduct but by no means the sole goal, and that success in art lies beyond making money. You should teach them to be the best artists they can possibly be, as if you were teaching yourself. If that entails making challenging work, and questioning art to its roots, that’s then how it should be.  Teach them what you with you would  have been taught as a young student. Make them better artists than you. If they so choose, later on, to descend into commercial mediocrity, that will be their choice.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I recently curated a group show at an alternative space and an important review was written for a major weekly publication. The critic missed a lot of key points about specific artworks, (i.e. omitting names of collaborators, misquoting artists) and also seemed to misunderstand the participating artists and my approach to the medium at hand. I’d like to set the record straight. Is there any way to try and correct the misconceptions or do I just let the critic lie?

Sincerely yours,

Curators Anonymous

Dear Curators Anonymous,

No one can do anything about a critic’s opinion, but if the critic misquoted, gave misinformation or mischaracterized any other factual aspects of the show, by all means you must respond to correct that situation. This should be done in the traditional way of writing a letter to the editor. You may also try to do it in other ways, clarifying those points in an open letter for instance. This second option has its consequences, as you risk indirectly drawing more attention to this critic’s opinion more than it should. At any rate, however, you should stick with debating the factual aspects of this critic’s review, and not on the more subjective take on, say, your curatorial angle.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

How do I ask for credit to an ex-boyfriend with which I have done long and intensive collaboration, which includes a video in which I perform and a costume if he uses the footage in all situations?  How do go about explaining that a collaboration in nature is with two and more people and that it is actually helpful to credit each other?  Since I am more involved in the art world it’s a little hard to explain these things to another person who has less experience but it’s very important to me that I have the credit for the work I did as I credit people I work with as an obvious automatic response.

Thank you,

Genevieve

Dear Genevieve,

Thank you for your interesting question.  Based on how you present the problem, you are right: you should receive some sort of credit for this piece. The way

you receive the credit would depend on how it was originated: if both of you came up with the idea, then it is a collaboration; if it was his idea and you helped, you should still receive some credit, eg. he should be credited with the concept and you with the costume, performance, execution, etc. In any case, yours is not a unique situation; many people who  work together (and sometimes ARE together) in what appears very spontaneous situations later on argue about issues of authorship such as this one.  It depends how far you want to take this, but one benevolent way to handle this is that you should share with your ex-boyfriend other examples of similar collaborations where both artists get credited (say, Christo and Jean-Claude, Claes and Kosje Oldenburg, Diller and Scoffidio, etc). Technically, you are legally entitled to sue your ex-boyfriend for using your image without authorization (assuming that no release form was signed). But you may not want to take your case that far, nor would it serve you much purpose. The best is to move on, let that be what it was, and learn from the example when you engage in future collaborations.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

How many viewers are enough?

Paul Ramirez Jonas

Dear Paul,

They will never appear to be enough.  But you will know they are too many when you lose sight of yourself.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Should I move to Detroit? It seems so…open. I like my fun part time adjunct jobs here in Chicago but feel like this could drag on forever (showing in friends apartments, teaching part time, renting.) Will things be different in the “D”?

Laura, Chicago, IL

Dear Laura,

Thank you so much for your question.

There are two main reasons why one moves to another city: because career opportunities are better, or because your personal situation will improve (quality of life, love interest, etc). You should ask yourself on whether either of those two areas will improve if you are to go to the big D. At a first glance, unemployment is really high in Detroit, so employment-wise it would be a challenge. It is true, however, that Detroit offers a very interesting and inspiring emerging art scene that, while smaller than Chicago, lies at the epicenter of social and cultural environment that is prone for the creation of very interesting art. But the main issue is, if you want change, why not real change? Move to Berlin? Los Angeles? New York? Buenos Aires?  They all have vibrant art scenes. The West Coast is very open (space-wise). Amsterdam is open too (mind -wise).  You are right: staying in Chicago will take you nowhere career-wise, but staying in the Midwest won’t change it either.

Best

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist:

Too often my viewers think my works of visual fiction are actually factual.

What is the most effective way to signal irony?

Beauvais, Knoxville, TN

Dear Beauvais,

Thank you for your question. The question for you is, why would you want your viewers to know the truth? Ignorance, in this case, is aesthetic bliss.  Think about the conundrum that every parent faces about when to tell their children that Santa Claus doesn’t exist- they eventually will come to the age to realize the truth, but  when parents break the news prematurely they cruelly and abruptly destroy a child’s world of magic and fantasy. As artist, you give your viewers the gift of a possible reality, and it is not your job to undo it for them. Let them figure it out on their own- most eventually will, and they will feel rewarded —even if they are infuriated by having been temporarily fooled, they will be delighted with themselves for having figured it out. And if for some reason they never do figure it out, they never deserved to know the truth in the first place.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

What should I wear for the opening of my solo show? Does the same dress code applies when I’m part of a group show?

Ramón

Dear Ramón,

Dress code at an opening is extremely important. What you are wearing often says more about your work than the work itself, because, let’s face it, no one looks at the work on the day of the opening, but everyone checks out what you are wearing.  For a solo show, it is common to overdo it (like wearing Prada), which would make you look like an amateur “solo show artist”. The best is to take your cue from the dealer, or curator- always dress a bit less flashy than them so they feel that they are the stars of the night (in the end, they don’t have the creative outlet of making art, so let them have their little moment of fame). But don’t overdo it: to dress too casually is very 90s and it is too used by middle-aged artists, which you don’t want to do.  For a group show, you need to take the cues from your fellow exhibiting artists: they will hate you if you try to outdo them in wardrobe, plus you will look like you are desperate for attention. For that, it is best to dress as if you were just attending the show as a guest.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Halfway on the process of making an art piece I discover that another artist has already made a project so similar to mine that it will make my work seem like plagiarism.  Please consider that this is the only piece I’m producing specifically for a group show that opens in a few weeks.  There might not be enough time to abandon the idea and start something new.  My name is already printed in the invitations and catalogues.  What should I do?

Ramón

Panama City

Dear Ramón,

Thanks for your question. Here are a few considerations for you to ponder: 1. Would the trajectory of your work logically evolve into a piece such as the one you are producing?  If this is the case, you should not be afraid to make a piece that resembles another. Many works look alike, but the intentions, the context, and the reasons for which they are produced vary widely. Think about white on white paintings. It is more important that your piece has a natural connection with the work you have done in the past than whether it looks like someone else’s. One possibility would be to include a device (a handout, for example) that would help explain how you arrived to this particular solution.

2. Is the artist whose piece was made before of a previous generation? If so, you should dedicate the piece to that artist or make a Dan Flavin-esque reference to him/her (like “to Dan Graham, who is crazy but interesting”).  If the artist is a contemporary of yours, and furthermore, if his piece is in the same show, this would not be a good idea. At any rate, it is preferable to accept the coincidence frontally and honestly than pretending to be surprised about it.

If, on another hand, this work is not logically connected to what you have done in the past, and this other artist exists in competition with you, I suggest that you just pretend that you intentionally made this piece just to fuck around with him.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Are artist residencies really the only answer?

If so, why did Smack Mellon reject me?

Jin

Dear Jin,

Artists residencies are no solution to having an art career, if that is what you mean. They are a bit like drugs- they are addictive, they make you feel good and productive, and on a limited dose they do help, but soon you can become a residency junkie, floating from one residency to another, like those people in universities who like the idea of being a student forever. As a result, those artists who are constantly in search of residencies to get a career forget to get a life. And the problem is, if you don’t have a life, you don’t have a subject to make art about, and your work will start looking like  bland, flavorless and generic residency art.  In this sense, it is healthy that we don’t get accepted into every single residency we apply to.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Here’s my question- what is a good way for a curator to sustain meaningful relationships with artists over time AFTER exhibiting their work? Sometimes it feels like the exhibition planning stage is an intense period of collaboration and then once it’s over we move on to the next project and part ways.

Best,

Julie, Chicago, IL

Dear Julie,

Thank you so much for your question.  The answer is simple: most artists want to stay in touch with curators after doing a project and most do. However, artists are strange specimens who can often display little generosity in their interactions with people who they don’t see as immediately being able to further their career, and this is why you may feel that after working with an artist this artist may feel that you are a “been there, done that.” The best thing is to be direct with them: tell them that you want to have an ongoing dialogue, that you are interested in their work, and that you hope that you two may share a career-long professional dialogue.  Most experienced artists understand this perfectly and will respond gratefully; the young ones who are getting started and still feel they are the hottest thing in the universe will eventually come around and understand the dynamic, but it is for the curator to set the ground rules, so that not every time that you ask information for a project it will mean that you will give them a show.

And in the case of those who may ignore your reaching out for a deeper dialogue or demand a completely utilitarian relationship, the question then for you would be: why bother?

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

How can a curator answer every single email to every single artist who drops an email to her/his inbox? Is it ok not to answer?

How can a curator raise money possibly for every artist that she/she wants to work with or in need?

How can a curator make sure that the money s/he raises in a museum that that money goes to for what it is raised for?

Can curators monopolize access to the part of the world that they are thoroughly informed about? Whose information is that anyway?

How can a curator get out of his/her “connector” mode and share his/her resources with other professionals locally and internationally without losing his/her “edge” and knowledge pool?

How can a curator deal with professionals in parts of the world that immediately steal/mimic his/her models, his/her “artists” or content or prior modes of knowledge production?

How can a curator rise professionally without aligning herself with power structures, power artists or author-ship driven curators?

How can a curator rise professionally without being power obsessed, being an ass whole, or being a bitch?

Can there be curator-angels? Are there prior examples?

How can a curator embrace both the Antiquity and Contemporary Art World?

Is it ok for a curator to be nice to her/his assistants interns yet appropriate their work?

Thank you very much.

Istanbul curator

Dear Istanbul curator,

Thanks for writing. You really had a lot of questions. Here are your answers.

How can a curator answer every single email to every single artist who drops an email to her/his inbox? Is it ok not to answer?

It is not ok to not answer. Ignoring an artist’s legitimate inquiry via email is a sign of arrogance and pretentiousness. Best practice, if unable to answer each email individually, is to have a series of readymade responses, such as, “thank you for making me aware of this material, I will take a look at it but as you may know I receive many requests every day and may not be able to give you a full response.” In the case however, of annoying artists who pester you every day, you are not obliged to answer every time, and it is perfectly fine to let them know that your inbox cannot sustain a thousand exhibition announcements from them. Goes without saying of spam- just block them on your email list.

How can a curator raise money possibly for every artist that she/she wants to work with or in need?

You can’t- you have to pick and choose your funding battles. As curator you should make a short list of those projects that you are willing to spend your political capital on. That said, you are not responsible to find funding for every artist- you are their supporter, not their mother.

How can a curator make sure that the money s/he raises in a museum that that money goes to for what it is raised for?

You can’t, unless if you are the director. In that case, you need to fundraise from the outside- that is, work with a foundation that will give the money directly to the artist instead of the institution (many private and government foundations work that way).

Can curators monopolize access to the part of the world that they are thoroughly informed about? Whose information is that anyway?

It is not cool, nor possible, for curators to colonize thematic or geographic areas of the world. To think you can do it is delusional. Information belongs to no one. Being territorial, furthermore, is a sign of insecurity, not only in curatorial but in every field, and it does not go unnoticed when a curator is protective of a particular area or subject.

How can a curator get out of his/her “connector” mode and share his/her resources with other professionals locally and internationally without losing his/her “edge” and knowledge pool?

You have no obligation to do your fellow curator’s homework. But you can always provide raw material to them, inasmuch as they will also reciprocate with you. In general, generosity breeds generosity.  It is also perfectly fine in some circumstances, when someone seems particularly needy, to suggest a consultant fee for your advise.

How can a curator deal with professionals in parts of the world that immediately steal/mimic his/her models, his/her “artists” or content or prior modes of knowledge production?

Documentation, documentation, documentation. There is nothing you can do if a curator replicates exactly the same show that you did a year ago. But you can let everyone know that you were there first. And then, if you did your job, everyone will know who is the plagiarist.

How can a curator rise professionally without aligning herself with power structures, power artists or author-ship driven curators?

If by “rising professionally” you mean becoming one of those on top of power structures, or an author-curator, you will have to engage with those structures. But you can create rules of engagement that will preserve your integrity and do not devolve into professional prostitution. To achieve that will prove your true talent as curator, and as social mediator.

How can a curator rise professionally without being power obsessed, being an ass whole, or being a bitch?

There is the misperception that all powerful curators are all those things, and it is not true. The truth is, many factors – such as luck, which you will need- are out of your control, and regardless of how hard you try most wont make it to the top. But if you make it to the top by being an asshole, you don’t deserve to be there anyway— you don’t even deserve to exist. This has again to do with what you mean by “rising professionally”. In my view, and I bet in the long view of history, the curators that will matter are not the ones on top of the most famous institutions, but the ones who curate the best exhibitions. So, please do not sell your soul to the devil.

Can there be curator-angels? Are there prior examples?

But of course there are. Paulo Herkenhoff in Brazil is a teddy bear, also perhaps the most influential curator right now in Latin America. Elizabeth Smith, now chief curator of the Art Gallery of Ontario, is a wonderful person and great curator. Stacy Switzer, director of Grand Arts in Kansas City, is the sweetest person and incredibly talented, independent and intelligent.  They are around- don’t think that curators need to be bad people. Only mediocre ones are.

How can a curator embrace both the Antiquity and Contemporary Art World?

It can be done, but the art world is not ready for them, because most in the art world are culturally illiterate about anything that happened before Duchamp.

Is it ok for a curator to be nice to her/his assistants interns yet appropriate their work?

No.  There is no replacement for giving credit where credit is due. If the assistant did the research, that’s exactly how you credit them. If the assistant produced the installation, you say so. And if your assistant curated the show, he/she should be listed as the curator, and you as the assistant.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

What should my artist statement look like for grad school applications? Should it be limited to one page?

Rachael

Dear Rachael,

Keep it short and concise, one page.  Be honest, but please avoid commonplace statements. Do not copy fancy words that you don’t understand from books, nor do try to play the game of  ”I am going to write what I think they want me to tell them” because there is no way you will win it. Reviewers usually have read a million artists statements before yours and can detect a contrived statement from a mile away (I know I can).

Do the following exercise: write three art statements. One of them should be the one that truly describes who you are and what you believe in. The other two you should write it imagining that you were someone else (a friend, colleague, etc). As you write the three statements, think about what makes them different from each other. Then show the three statements to other people to look at and ask them which one best describes who you are. If they all point to the one that you wrote imagining yourself, then you are good to go. If not you have to go to the drawing board.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

If an artwork is in a crate in a storage facility in Long Island City, is it

still an artwork?

Put away,

Paul

Dear Paul,

You ask very interesting but complex questions, so here we will have to get a

bit more philosophical. According to Bishop Berkeley, one of the great English

Empiricists, nothing exists unless it is being perceived by someone. Then,

Ortega y Gasset, on the other hand, said that  our behavior is constructed under

assumptions that we have regarding the existence of things. For example, when I

wake up in the morning and prepare myself to go out to start my day, it is

Because I am assuming that the world is still the same than when I went to bed

the day before, that when I open the door the street will be there, etc.  So: if

we follow these ideas, what matters is not on whether the work still exists

physically, because it does exist in our minds, and continues influencing our

behavior. Let’s say the caves of Altamira are an artwork. Most of us haven’t

been to Altamira to corroborate they exist or are still there, yet one can say

they continue exerting their influence.  And even when they vanish, due to

accident or duration, they are still artworks in people’s mind.  If a

performance piece is stored away in our memory, isn’t it the same than when a

physical art work is on a storage facility?

Sincerely

Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Thanks, that was very helpful, but it leads me to the inevitable question:

If a tree falls in a Museum, is it an artwork?

Yours

Paul

Dear Paul,

Trees provoke two kinds of noises by falling. One, which is less important, is the actual noise of falling. Second, more important, is who yelled (if anything) “tree falling” before or after the fall. (“tree falling” meaning “this is art”). Then you have three possibilities:

1. When no one yells anything after the fall, then the fall is invisible and inaudible to everyone. The tree vanishes.

2. If the museum was the one who yelled “tree falling” (before or after, it doesn’t matter) many people will hear it. It will be an artwork (whether its good or not it doesn’t matter: the noise is there to stay and the reaction it will provoke is unavoidable). Yet, the next generation who wasn’t there to hear the first or second sounds may never know it happened in the first place unless the second part of #3 happens (see below).

3. If the one who yelled wasn’t sanctioned by the museum, the falling will be an artwork, but very few people may hear him/her, so few people will see. It will barely exist. But it may crawl here and there in someone’s memory. If lucky, the tree will take root and grow on enough people’s minds. If it cannot be uprooted from them, it is likely that one day it will be planted, as a monument, in the museum.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I often find it hard to write my own artist statement.  Could you advice on how to make this easier.  Is there some sort of template that I can follow?

Ramón

Dear Ramón,

Don’t follow templates- there is nothing more horrid than reading the typical statement using the same words and unpronounceable terms.

Here are a few ideas though:

- Ask three people who know your work best to describe your work in one paragraph. Use those paragraphs as a guide to discuss your work

- Write three statements- one of an artist you truly admire, one of an artist you truly abhor, then write yours. In writing your statement, think

about how your work differs from the other two.

-have a curator or artist friend interview you about your work. tape that interview. transcribe the parts that you liked onto the paper.

My favorite recommendation is , however: contest the notion of  artist statements. They are a terrible idea anyway. Do you think that Marina Abramovic or Gerhard Richter ever had to write artist statements? Come up with your own format: interview, short story, cooking recipes. Something that represents your work better

than the typical bureaucratic text, something that makes it more compelling to read. The whole reason why unimaginatively people request artist statements is because they need a way to know what the artist thinks of his/her work. If you do that without using that format, it shows you are a creative and thinking being.

sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I want to be famous, and I am open about it. What do you think I should do:

Which of these is the best way  to get fast recognition, wealth, and fame? and

if possible, to feel good about myself and what I do.

a. contemporary art (Star)

b. pop singer

c. actor

d. (super)model

my skills are very limited but I have good ideas.

I have no previous experience in any of these fields

thanks,

Anonymous (I havent decided on my stage name yet)

Dear Anonymous,

You are amongst the minority. Who wants to be famous anymore? Be chased by paparazzi and tabloids, die of an overdose while still young,

be immersed in legal battles with the many ex-spouses who will fight to take over your estate, being debated publicly over the kind of

Liposuction or plastic surgery you have conducted on yourself.  In any case, your avenues depend, as you may have guessed, on your abilities:

if you have a great body, supermodel is the solution; if you know how to fake feelings, you are an actor, if you can sing and move at least decently onstage,

you are a pop singer. If you can’t do any of these things, – that is, if you are not that attractive, you can’t really act, sing or move- then you are stuck with trying to become a contemporary artist, as that is the field where all the fame-starved and slightly untalented people go. The bad news: fame in the art world is so easy to get that it hardly counts as true fame. Like Maurizio Cattelan said, being famous in the art world is too easy for everyone because the art world is like, 2000 people. The good part: because art stars are second-rate celebrities, they are not so famous that are pestered with paparazzi, tabloids, ex-spouses, etc.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

What happens to the contestants on work of art after they get voted off? Are they still allowed to produce art?

Sincerely,

A concerned pop culture addict

Dear  Concerned Pop culture Addict,

Regardless of being winners or losers, basically all contestants, critics, self-appointed experts,  and any other people who are associated with the TV program should not  be allowed to be part of the Art World anymore. As they have clearly displayed their transparent obsession with fame and power over their interest in art, the appropriate thing for them to do (and for any of us to do to them) is to move to Las Vegas and work at a third-rate casino variety show, which is where they belong.

sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I am an artist who has recently graduated from an MFA program in a medium sized American city. My schooling has given me the impression that in order to be a real, viable artist I now need to spend years of my life jumping around from residency to residency, if I am lucky enough to be invited to do so, in a state of constant mobility. This global nomadic life style is not my dream. I believe in knowing people and places for a long, long time. I would like to maintain a sense of home. I accept that it is important to build a wide web of relationships within the art world if one wants to succeed as a professional artist. But how do I do that without sacrificing the depth of relationship I have been building with the people and place where I live?

Sincerely,

Ariana Jacob

Dear Ariana:

Thank you for your question. You are absolutely right in not wanting to sacrifice your immediate surroundings and the people who are closest to you in exchange of your career. And by no means you should or need to sacrifice them. However, the artist profession does imply certain negotiations with your immediate realm.

The globe-trotting phenomenon in contemporary art is fairly recent. Back in the 60s, artists didn’t transport themselves that much— they mainly stay put. Then in the 70s, 80s, and specially the 90s, artists became biennialists, cultural tourists. While this movement has been criticized in the sense that many artists make banal art about whichever locality they are in,  there are wonderful things about this unprecedented mobility: your work will be influenced by many and rich new ideas and cultures. To stay in the same place forever, unless you are Emily Dickinson (who rarely left her house), will likely isolate you and make your work self-absorbed. Today, it is important to get out of the house. Another thing you should be aware about is that the international network of the artworld is here to stay-  you will realize that wherever you go you will start finding familiar faces. So it is possible- and necessary, to find people of your generation (artists, curators) who live in different cities and maintain an artistic, and friendship, dialogue with them. Those relationships will also last forever.   And then, as an artist, you will become a citizen of the world. You will arrive to Venice and the Rialto Bridge and cafe Florian will feel like coming back home; you may go over the years to Mexico City and enjoy hanging out at the Covadonga where most artists meet. It will be a new kind of familiarity.

Furthermore, the years that follow your MFA are very important for you to be active. This is the time when you need to be out there exploring the world; that will change in 10 years. After that decade, artists usually become a bit more sedentary. So my recommendation is that you make yourself a clear plan of “travel action”. You don’t have to be a nomad- then you would become a residence addict, which is not productive or useful either. Pick and choose your residencies; if you go away, go far away, not to the next town.  Shoot for significant experiences that may help your development: go to the venice biennial, to sao paulo, new york. Go also to places that few in the art world go to: Zagreb,  Beirut, Bogota. You will find incredible artists communities there.

One last word: as long as you are aware what is your home base, you shouldn’t worry. But you should be prepared to leave it every now and again. Remember that the main reason we leave a place is to rediscover it.

sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

Is it ethical for an artist either to offer a work of art as a gift to a curator (for example, after the decision for inclusion in a show, or after the show ends), or offer a reduced sale price for a work of art to a curator?

Artist donor,

Dear Artist donor,

While many do it, it is unethical to give any gift to any curator as a quid pro quo for any favor.  In the long run, an artist (and curators, for that matter) gain respect amongst their peers for their integrity not only as professionals but as individuals. To favor such practices only decreases the perception that others may have of you and will counterbalance any short-term benefits that you may derive from engaging in such sleazy arrangements. Similarly, you should also think twice about curators – or even dealers- who expect to get a work of yours in exchange of including you in a show. Not only is that completely unacceptable, but likely those are not very professional curators nor people one should aspire to work with.

There can be, however, instances where, if you have a sincere friendship or dialogue with a curator (or dealer, etc.) that has developed over time, that you may want to give a work of yours as a gift, and it may be entirely appropriate. But as with any gift, one should never give with the ulterior purpose to receive something in exchange.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

I’m a choreographer. Recently I’ve noticed that some artists who’s work is

basically choreography have had large scale shows and sold pieces to major

museums for a lot of money. How can I transition into this situation. Or is this

trend already over?

Thanks,

Melinda

Dear Melinda,

Thank you for your question. Your observation is correct: many choreographers indeed have made work that goes into the visual art world and thus is purchased and collected as if they were paintings.

Unfortunately, there is no set “strategy” to make a choreography work enter into the visual arts market. What you see happening is essentially that some artists are working in ways that speak to issues that are directly connected with the visual arts realm, through theoretical angles (eg. issues around sculpture for example) or political/gender issues. Because these particular works speak to other artists in that discourse, and /or because they have been influential to other artists and periods of visual art, ( and many of those artists have presented their work in the context of museums or galleries in the past) these pieces are deemed as belonging to the narratives in contemporary art museums. To simply plant a choreography in a museum wouldn’t do the trick, as you would need to first insert the piece in that dialogue, or, like Tino Sehgal, take elements of choreography and turn them into a conceptual art product.

sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

I am writing with an ethical/aesthetic question about collaboration.  have collaborated for many years with a more famous artist than myself and I feel that I’m not being credited properly for my contributions to our shared work. Is it appropriate for me to ask that we get equal billing? How would you recommend I broach this issue?

Do you think it’s tacky to have to ask?

Signed,

Better half of a collaboration

Dear Better Half of a Collaboration,

You are right that these days the role of a curator falls into a gray area when the curator enters into production or collaborative roles with an artist. It is also true that in many collaborative situations the curator enters into this role in an unexpected way, sometimes having to do much more than what was originally expected. But by far the root of the problem lies in the little communication that exists between artists and curators regarding credit, and the shyness by many curators to always defer to the artist in these matters.  In these situations, it is absolutely correct to specify the kind of credit that you expect to receive from a collaborative project, but this should be stipulated before the project begins. If things change over the course of the project, then you should point to the artist how the project has evolved in a way in which you feel that now its a collaboration in which you are doing more than the usual curatorial duty. Also, regardless of how famous the artist is, you should not “ask”: you should hold your ground and stipulate how you expect to be credited before you proceed with the collaboration.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

[streaming audio files]

The Art World Home Companion, Smack Mellon, July 17 2010:

The Art World Home Companion, Introduction:

The Art World Home Companion, The Estheticist:

[full video documentation below]

The Art World Home Companion is a radio program originally conceived for  Condensations of the Social, an exhibition at Smack Mellon, Brooklyn, curated by Sara Reisman in June-July of 2010. The project pays tribute to Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion, adapting the concept for the contemporary art community. The “Estheticist” segment of the  program invites public participation and offers a counseling and answering of art-related questions from listeners, in the spirit of Randy Cohen’s New York Times column “the Ethicist”.

A live program was presented at Smack Mellon on July 17, 2010 with the participation of Ryan Hill and Larry Krone.

Pablo Helguera and Larry Krone performing "Art Basel", AWHC, 07/15/10, Smack Mellon

Introduction:

The Art World Home Companion is the great variety show and radio podcast desired and expected by all and produced by none — until now. For those of you who feel lonely amidst the social choreographies of the art world, whose anxieties about professional issues generate unanswered questions that they are afraid to ask, who cant detach from Facebook and are a bit nostalgic of the time when you actually got to see and talk to people in person, but feel awkward at openings, for those for whom the art world remains inscrutable, who cannot understand why it is the way it is— who feel that our social rituals are slightly absurd and contradictory, our theorizing incomprehensible, our ethical behavior suspicious, our professional acting opportunistic, and yet you still ache for being part of it —this program is your friend, your companion and your Saturday morning sunshine.

Now that nothing is radical anymore but we are still stressed about it being so, the era of folk conceptualism has begun and it must be celebrated. Well aware of this,  The Art World Home Companion will reach the artist studios in Brooklyn and the Amish households in Pennsylvania, the pristine galleries of Chelsea and the prairie chicken farms of Mississippi, the grave hallways of Bard and the harmonious mountains of Appalachia. Uniquely American in its folksy spirit and humor, its relentless optimism, its shameless commercialism and its confessional talk show nature, The Art World Home Companion is the Car Guys for art students and confused art school graduates, Dr. Phil for artists and independent curators, the Oprah of the art historians, the Jim Cramer for collectors and dealers, and the Larry King of all of us who care about art but have a hard time not becoming cynical about the art world.  Each program will include special guests, American folk music, art recipes, site-specific travel tips from the Atlas of Art Commonplaces, strange manifestos, and the centrally important program The (Esth)ethicist, to whom listeners can write with their burning professional questions. The art world has now a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a companion finally not to compete against or sleep with for convenience but just someone to laugh with, to love, learn and share our eccentricities, fears and desires as members of our little town which is the Art World.

Radio drama: "Otto's Self-Board Meeting"

Full video of the July 17, 2010 program at Smack Mellon:

Part I: introduction and worst exhibition titles competition

Part II: Radio drama: Otto’s Self-Board Meeting

Part III: Larry Krone

Part IV: The Estheticist

Part V: The Estheticist 2nd part

Part VI: Over the Hamptons and Art Basel

Part VII: Art World Trivia and The Dan Flavin Awards

Part VIII: Documenta (final)

Original Text  (“Viveros”) by Luis Ignacio Helguera from the book   “El Cara de Niño y Otros Cuentos”

Trans. Pablo Helguera and Mónica de la Torre, 2004

Paths lined with poplars, paths and more paths lined with poplars, a single path with never-ending line of poplars, in order to arrive to the house of my old friend. The light of midday lingers, the solar image of the poplar-lined paths appears fixed as in a photograph.

The sun is so radiant that it is hard to see through the light, as if it were mist or a veil. Paths lined with poplars, meadows with poplars, puddles of light, water mirages on the paths. But the paths also appear to be mirages: I see them, I walk on them, and I don’t feel them, it’s as if they walked by themselves. And all of a sudden, finally the music of fountains heard but not seen, troughs, stables, the villa. More than a villa it seems to be a big workshop, a factory where strange things are made. There, inside a sort of greenhouse, is my friend, whistling quietly. He greets me from afar, waving his hand, without stopping to whistle. He looks so old. I want to read you a passage from a book, let me go to the library, I’ll be right back, he says. I tell him to do it later, not to bother now.  He replies: it’s the only exercise I do, and leaves. His wife arrives, kisses me and tells me that its time for lunch. She opens a few tin cans, like those from the ice-cream shop; she tastes the pork loin with potatoes from one of them.  It’s delicious, you’re going to love it, help yourself. She leaves. I realize there is a lot of food in those containers: apple purée, salads, chicken with mole… I can’t find the book, my friend says, while he is going somewhere else. I eat a radish. But I am thirsty, not hungry. My friend comes back whistling quietly, with a book in his hands, he looks for the passage, then puts down the book; it’s not here, he says, and then leaves again, whistling quietly. It seems he’s going to look for another one; it’s the only exercise I ever do, he says. He takes forever. I see a great variety of plants, some of them enormous, and next to them, a row of unbranded liquor bottles. Most of them are almost empty. What’s in them looks like brandy, homemade.  There are no glasses; no plates and cutlery either. I sip from one of the bottles. It is brandy, and it’s exquisite.

I drink the remainders of another bottle. And then another.

It occurs to me that perhaps my friend uses the bottles to play the marimba and thus lines them up, nearly empty, in a row. I drink another’s remainders bottom. And then another. There are stables everywhere. But no horses. In a small area there are a few rooms made of wood, their dimensions are very small. They are interconnected, open to the greenhouse and the gardens, and empty. One and then another and then another and another… all of them empty, without any furniture or pictures or people. They look more like they belong to a dollhouse or a playground. When I go out I see my friend in the greenhouse, whistling quietly and going through the pages of a book. I am thirsty, I say. Drink brandy, he replies without looking at me. Oh! Here it is! And he starts reading out loud. Every once in a while, in the middle of the reading, he stares at me from the top rim of his glasses. I drink the remainder of a brandy of bottle and then another and another and another and one more. I don’t understand anything that he is reading to me, in the same tone and rhythm that is lulling me to sleep. I hear his voice as if it were coming from a monotonous and exasperating snore or from under the water. He goes on reading without a pause, staring at me while continuing to read, now without looking at the book, as if he were reading my face, I can’t stand his voice anymore, it’s my naptime, I tell him.

The light is still radiant.

I need to go to the bathroom. My friend is not there anymore. I can’t find the bathroom. I walk into a stable and as I start urinating, I see my friend and his wife approaching from afar. It’s something that I already knew, she says to him, but I liked how he explained it to me. He’s very serious and doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her. I quickly come out of the stable. She kisses me and says that it’s lunchtime. He leaves, don’t tell me that you are looking for a book, she says, and he: it’s the only exercise I do. It’s delicious, she tells me as she opens a steamy container, you’re going to love it, help yourself. She leaves. Aren’t you going to eat too? I scream at her. I already ate, she responds, you’re going to love it, help yourself. Yes, thank you I really loved everything! I scream. She smiles, from afar, and then leaves. She is young and beautiful. I snatch a pear from a tree and devour it. I am so thirsty. Another pear. It’s not ripe, I toss it out. A long time passes. No one, I walk into a stable, piss, and come out. I decide to go to the troughs.  I hear the fountains, but cannot see them. Paths lined with poplars, many paths lined with many poplars from which I don’t know how to return. I am very thirsty. There is no night. I slowly drink from the trough.  I suddenly feel the earth shaking under my feet, hear furious galloping in the distance. I step aside and see the some wild horses cross the poplar-lined path, riderless but moving in a straight line, setting off a great cloud of dust. I feel the earth shaking under my feet, for a long while. And then again, the deafening sound of light. The radiant light that makes the dust dissipate. There is no night. I slowly drink from the trough; the water tastes like the furious gallop of the horses.

[Variations on an Audience was a work designed to be performed only once, in the context of the launch of the book Theatrum Anatomicum (and Other Performance Lectures) at the Bruce High Quality Foundation University on October 22, 2009, inaugurating the performance lecture series Edifying, curated by Beatrice Gross. The work is an experiment on what in sociolinguistic theory has been described as Audience Design and Style-Shifting, which involves the way in which speakers adjust their modes of speaking in relation to their audience.]

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Audiences are endangered species.

They are slowly vanishing in this world showered with limelight, where 15 minutes of fame has now a cacophony of 24/7 programming.

We all speak at the same time, and no one listens. When everyone is an artist, no one can be in the audience. We only sit offstage because we are waiting for our turn in the lectern.

What we call audiences today, like the one here tonight, is nothing more than a collection of highly individualized minds. You all are authors, we all produce things: you take pictures, you write blogs, you all own creative real-state. You all here tonight are so different. How can me, or anyone, talk to you in a comprehensive manner so that you all can feel engaged?

Unfortunately, most people who lecture have failed to recognize this simple fact. They still speak to audiences as if they existed as one whole, as if this hypothetical and amorphous mass was a homogenous group of listeners, nor a heterogenous entity of speakers. They talk to this hypothetical audience as if they thought and felt exactly like them.

Let’s take, for instance, Slavoj Zizek.

Slavoj Zizek talks to everyone as if we all were Slavoj Zizek. A scholar assumes we all are scholars interested in long bibliographies and in the reference to that 1974 book where the footnote of the footnote clarifies what the footnote of the footnote of the 1973 version didn’t clarify.

Artists, when they are invited to speak, usually think that their audience wants the artist to act as if they didn’t care about them, but of course artists care, and their audiences- well, their audiences as usually are other artists who are respectful enough but what they really want is not to be an audience but to be the artist who is speaking.

So it is very painful for me to say this, but the truth is that in this post-post-modern world we all are confused about when to speak and when to listen. As a result of this, we are both unprofessional speakers and unprofessional audiences.

This spells slight doom, the temporary boredom we all have to live through every time we attend a lecture. We don’t even know why we do it. But it shouldn’t be that way.

Lectures could be like sex. They could be like the seduction of love, like the erotic dance or the magic act or the psychic séance or the hypnotic session. All it takes is for the speaker to find a way to talk to each one of the persons in the room as if it were a one-to-one conversation, an audience whisperer.

So by all means then let’s then do variations on an audience, or rather, on this non-audience. I will talk not to all of you, but to each of you. For this exercise I will assume that, amongst the group here there is at least one person of the following sort:

1. Theorists. That is public intellectuals, post-structuralist scholars, downtown east village, readers of October magazine.

2. Chelseaspeakers. Uber-professional art speakers, curators, consultants, critics.

3. Grant-writers and administrators working for non-profit organizations and the U.S. government and the Department of Education or School Board.

4. ‘Show-me-the-money’ speakers, no-nonsense, uncomplicated, like when we talk about art late at an afterparty after a few drinks.

Now that we have established the four audiences that I will be addressing, I will now repeat my introduction in audience 1 style:

The construct of the spectator as redefined today by

post-technological networks reunites a number of given implications that, upon close examination,

reveal society

– and its involutionary transformation-

as a product of a demystified late capitalist model without centers and reformulated contents.

The involution of cultural communication into a system of seemingly

original producers of knowledge as opposed to receivers creates a different

activity universe that contrasts with the deflection of speech, a seemingly anti-political task of horizontal results.

Where one searches for the hidden receiver finds itself the manifested materialization of parallel mimetic producers. It is the fabrication of the plot of the content,

the substance of normative principles of inclusion of concepts, that varies only in stylistic practices of scientific postmodernity,

usually not self-identified as such but actively embracing a regiment of exclusionary concept definitions

within a well-founded domain of references visible only to a reduced agents of the operation.

Audience 2 form:

The notion of audience has been redefined today by post-technological networks.

Cultural producers today produce works that critique western notions of collective spectatorship and propose new critical models.

Notions of performance are incorporated in this new critique, resulting in innovative explorations that operate in the realm of conceptual art in various formats.

The viewer becomes an active participant in the work, which explores notions of viewers becoming active participants.

The work becomes an active participant in the viewer, which is an exploration of notions of viewers.

These works are conceptual narratives that question a variety of concepts, including the way in which spectators receive information in a post-modern world. These practices thus become explorations of conceptual information of notions of participants that participate in notions of information of conceptual explorations.

In other words, in audience 3 form:

Audiences in our global world today face the challenges and the opportunities that come along with the emerging forms of expression.

In this multi-cultural and multi-disciplinary society there are multiple voices which reflect our diverse culture and that are important to support. In some cases, these voices will challenge the viewer to reflect on important issues we all face, but they all reflect the feelings and thoughts of others and are representative of the diversity of original community voices that we all should strive to support. We only face as a society the challenge to expand our long-term partnerships and advisory support to those who have an important message to convey to their constituents, building enduring foundations for community partnerships with real solutions. By acting together, we can overcome the obstacles that for too long have prevented real change on the critical issues that audiences face in art and life, fulfilling the long objective of change , creativity and achievement for the generations to come.

Audience 4 form

I mean its like sometimes because you are online so much and you get to like get to do all this like blogs and photoshop and movies and stuff its like today everything is so easy to do so why do we need anyone else doing it but us, like today things maybe have become decadent or something when you really think about it its really amazing like everything can mean anything because anyone can do whatever. I mean like today the world and like, culture has become a place where we all talk about ourselves and then it like makes everything look the same because no one seems to be listening or something. I mean that’s cool, but it’s like if I am talking and you are talking and he is talking and then if we just talk in different ways that doesn’t mean we are saying different things if you know what I am saying. Its like that is how its done today when we just say what we have to say and we know why we say it and we know what you or are going to say so what’s the point of even saying it, but the point that there is no point is maybe the point.

And now, to merge these styles, we will arrive to patch together the choir of art world voices. You can call it an audience fugue.

The construct of the spectator as redefined today by post-technological networks reunites a number of given implications that, upon close examination, I mean its like sometimes because you are online so much and you get to like get to do all this like, audiences in our global world today face the challenges and the opportunities that come along with the emerging forms of expression. The notion of audience has been redefined today by post-technological networks – and its involutionary transformation- as a product of a demystified late capitalist model without centers and reformulated contents. The involution of cultural communication into a system of seemingly original producers of knowledge its like today everything is so easy to do so why do we need anyone else doing it but us, In this multi-cultural and multi-disciplinary society Cultural producers today produce works that critique western notions of collective spectatorship as opposed to receivers creates a different activity universe that contrasts with the deflection of speech, blogs and photoshop and movies and stuff, like there are multiple voices which reflect our diverse culture and that are important to support, today things maybe have become decadent or something when you really think about it its really amazing like a seemingly anti-political task of horizontal results. In some cases, these voices will challenge the viewer to reflect on important issues we all face, where one searches for the hidden receiver finds itself the manifested materialization of parallel mimetic producers but they all reflect the feelings and thoughts of others and are representative of the diversity of original community voices that we all should strive to support, I mean everything can mean anything because anyone can do whatever. It is the fabrication of the plot of the content, I mean like today the world and like, the substance of normative principles of inclusion of concepts, that we only face as a society the challenge to expand our long-term partnerships and advisory support to those who have an important message to convey to their constituents, These works are conceptual narratives that question a variety of concepts, where we all talk about ourselves and then it like makes everything look the same because no one seems to be listening or something. By acting together, we can overcome the obstacles that for too long have prevented real change on the critical issues that audiences face in art and life, only in stylistic practices of scientific postmodernity, I mean that’s cool, but it’s like if I am talking and you are talking and he is talking and then if we just talk in different ways that doesn’t mean we are saying different things, like These practices thus become explorations of conceptual information of notions of participants, building enduring foundations for community partnerships with real solutions, usually not self-identified as such but actively embracing a regiment of exclusionary definitions that participate in notions of information of conceptual explorations, if you know what I am saying, including the way in which spectators receive information in a post-modern world, and we know why we say it and we know what you or are going to say so what’s the point of even saying it, within a well-founded domain of references visible only to a reduced agents of the operation, fulfilling the long objective of change , creativity and achievement for the generations to come, an exploration of notions of viewers, Its like that is how its done today when we just say what we have to say but the point that there is no point is maybe, like, the point.

Ninguno de nosotros queríamos ir a la posada de la casa del Simio

pero a todos nos obligaron, pues habían preparado según ellos una danza

lidereada por Rayek. Nadie nos había preparado para lo que pasaría esa

noche nefasta. Deberíamos haber sospechado cuando vimos que los vellos

púbicos del Simio servían de heno para el pesebre, y bajo las linternas

rojas nos esperaba en la puerta la china que se perdió. Las cobijas

eléctricas de la tienda de junto estaban de barata. Yo siempre había

querido una cobija eléctrica, pero me dió pena comprar una entonces y

entrar a la casa con la cobija bajo el brazo. Me dolía el estómago de

los nervios pero no hicimos caso y entramos (yo y el Bolillo), donde nos

recibió el ruido de las frituras y el rumor de todo el grupo de gente

que ya había llegado. Llegaron los borregos amaestrados que comenzaron a

cantar villancicos feos pero conocidos. Hacía un frío Finlandés, pero no

había samobares ni se iba a organizar una sesión de sauna obligatorio,

como lo había prometido el Simio; (yo sólo había ido para ver a las

chavas desnudarse) y yo me deprimí de inmediato. Siempre eran así estas

cosas, que se anunciaban como los grandes eventos y terminaban siendo

las fiestas más aburridas. Los mazapanes sabían a rayos pero nos tuvimos

que aguantar a que se presentara el programa, que comenzaría con la

danza de Rayek, seguiría por el show mediocre de la Suprema Filósofa (

que no sabía actuar pero que todos se lo perdonaban porque tenía buen

cuerpo, porque siempre llevaba ropa interior roja y porque sus

presentaciones siempre terminaban en strip tease) y la conferencia final

sobre las moscas por el profesor Heidegger con diagramas y todo. La

atracción adicional que había prometido el Simio era subirnos a ver a su

tía catalana, loca y anciana, que había sido diva en 1918 y que siempre

cantaba encerrada en su cuarto. Eran otros tiempos, esos. La leche ya no

se vendía en recipientes de plomo. El simio había hecho un bello pesebre

con patos de hule y esponjas rosas, pero algo le faltaba para acentuar

el espíritu navideño. En realidad algo muy importante faltaba, pero los

organizadores de la posada no parecían, o querían, advertirlo. Pronto

comenzó a prepararse todo para la danza de Rayek que se estaba alistando

en el baño. “Es que usa cinco capas de maquillaje y se viste como Walter

Mercado”, dijo el Simio. En ese momento comenzó a llegar el ponche, del

que todos nos comenzamos a servir. A mí no me gusta el ponche y no lo

probé (era obligatorio tomar, pero yo nada más hacía como que tomaba),

aunque el Bolillo dijo en ese momento que el ponche tenía un sabor

lejano a astringosol. Recuerdo que en ese momento le comenté al Bolillo

algo así como que este tipo de reuniones ya no tenían ningún sentido,

que hace diez años nos divertíamos un montón pero que ahora todo parecía

forzado y que el Simio era un pobre diablo. El Bolillo dijo algo así

como que valía la pena tan solo para ver a la Suprema Filósofa, que

todavía estaba muy bien y que no había engordado tanto como las otras

chavas, y que seguramente ella era la única razón por la que el Simio

organizaba estas cosas en su casa.

Pero en medio de uno de los villancicos, alguien lanzó un alarido, que

se combinó con los cantos de los borregos. Abriendo temerosamente la

puerta del baño, se vio a Rayek tirado en el suelo, vestido

efectivamente como Walter Mercado, pero muerto y con la cabeza metida en

el escusado, flotando. ¿Quién fue el maldito? Gritó furioso el Simio.

Todos corrieron a ver el nefasto crimen. ‘Nadie puede salir– dictaminó

la Suprema Filósofa, que no advertía que la temperatura estaba subiendo

desproporcionadamente en la casa, a pesar de que las gotas de sudor

corrían deslizándose por sus senos levantados por su pushabras rojo.

“Hace calor”, murmuró la china que se perdió, pero inmediatamente el

Simio le soltó una bofetada con una licuadora – la misma con la que

había hecho el ponche. “Aquí nadie se me alebresta”, dijo como caudillo,

mientras todos (incluyendo los becerros) guardaban silencio, con

excepción de la tia anciana que seguía cantando en catalán. Mientras,

el profesor Heidegger comenzaba a impacientarse por no poder dar su

conferencia sobre las moscas, y dijo: “no llamen a la policía: hay que

seguir con el programa”. Ante el azoro de todos, el Simio estuvo de

acuerdo y nos ordenó que tomáramos nuestros asientos, que el show debía

de continuar y que después de tanta planeación la muerte de Rayek no

podía venir a joderlo todo. El calor era ya insoportable, y no había más

que ponche agrio que todos seguían tomando nomás por no dejar. Se

decidió que el programa iba a cambiarse y que antes de la presentación

de la Suprema Filósofa se presentaría la conferencia del profesor

Heidegger (de haber sido de otra manera, todos nos habríamos ido antes).

Se apagaron las luces y Heidegger comenzó a mostrar transparencias de

moscas africanas y polacas. La Suprema Filósofa se sentó a mi lado, con

su coquetería de siempre, restregándose contra mi muslo y ante el seguro

enojo del Simio, que estoy seguro que me veía de lejos. Heidegger usaba

su tono de voz cansado y monótono para describir las relaciones sexuales

entre las moscas, lo cual daba paso a que todos perdiéramos la

concentración y nos pusiéramos a pensar en el siguiente acto,

imaginándonos repetidamente a la Suprema Filósofa quitándose su brasier

rojo. La conferencia llevaba unos cuarenta minutos, y entre la monotonía

de la voz de Heidegger y los borregos que ya se habían desbandado por

la casa, nadie había advertido que la china que se perdió, tirada en el

suelo, estaba tomando poco a poco el color de la cara de Rayek. De

hecho, y a pesar de la oscuridad, sentí que todos comenzaban a

empalidecer ante mis ojos, incluido el Bolillo, y yo comencé a presentir

que la gente a mi alrededor comenzaba a adquirir un adormecimiento que

iba más allá del aburrimiento normal de una conferencia sobre moscas. Al

tocar el brazo del Bolillo y sentirlo totalmente frío y duro, al igual

que el de la Suprema Filósofa que estaba sentada a mi izquierda,

comprendí lo que estaba pasando. Con mucho cuidado, comencé a calcular

mis opciones. El Simio estaba cruzado de brazos, parado al fondo del

cuarto, listo para forzar en su asiento a quien quisiera escapar. Por

fortuna, el cable del proyector pasaba por debajo de mi silla, que a la

vez estaba cerca de la ventana que daba al patio. Mientras Heidegger

comenzaba a hacer un paréntesis para hablar sobre los moscos, en espacio

de un segundo jalé con toda violencia el cable, que no sólo apagó el

proyector sino que lo hizo caer violentamente sobre el suelo y alebrestó

a los borregos – ya todos los demás estaban muertos – y el Simio exclamó

algo en el momento en el que me arrojé a la ventana hacia el patio.

Corrí con todas mis fuerzas mientras advertí que sangraba y que alguien

estaba persiguiéndome, pero libré la barda de la casa, pasé la tienda de

cobijas eléctricas y corrí hasta el metro más cercano, oyendo de lejos

la voz desquebrajada de la tía que cantaba una canción de amor de una

zarzuela catalana, temiendo por mi vida, pero más que nada entristecido

por la estupidez del Simio, que nunca supo expresar sus sentimientos por

la Suprema Filósofa y al que lo único que se le tenía que ocurrir fue

envenenar el ponche para tratar de recuperar inútilmente una época de

experiencias colectivas.

CUATRO CANTOS

++

Óvalos

Eran los hermosos óvalos que flotaban

por los paisajes de todas las ferias mundiales

los que me seguían sin parar

cada vez que me trataba de bolear los zapatos.

Yo quería ser negro,

pero la tintorería de Transilvania nunca me llamaba,

creo que porque no les gusta la calvicie

y porque mis tacos con escabeche ahora huelen a talco.

Si tan solo los caballos de colores fueran antropólogos

interesados en sorber clips suecos,

si tan solo los mecánicos burocráticos vivieran en Nápoles

y entendieran que el pasto a veces puede ser rosado.

Ahí siguen los óvalos,

que odio que sean tan hermosos y tan grandes y veloces,

y que yo sea una tortuga medieval

solo con una bolsita de gomas de borrar

pero sin audífonos y con deudas de gimnasio.

Son así las olas de este barrio,

que llegan con Mafaldas abstrusas a veces,

donde todos saludan pero cierran temprano

y no queda mas que tirar los calcetines por la ventana

cuando termina el verano.

++

Aduana

Vendo pellejos diseñados,

hechos de dedos finos de venados rumanos,

los promuevo en bosques de farmacias lentas

de aquellas que surten frases suaves con íes y diptongos,

con avestruces de peluche cantando a la salida,

para aquellos como yo, con traje de húsar anticuado,

de esos que son imposibles de planchar.

Fuera de eso, mi tienda está vacía

como si esto fuera la posguerra de los moles,

ya quisieras, pues habria paraíso de boinas,

pero ni siquiera ese chicle pega,

ni Virilio me deja usar su carro de último modelo

ni me invitan a la capilla de los banquetes.

Plantado con mi duty-free bajo el brazo

trato de oler todos los colores

y acaricio las avenas de las mañanas

en busca de que algo, lo que sea, me dé besos.

++

Bidet

Según historiadores y egiptólogos

el sol se proyectaba al estilo de Sanborns

cuando uno pide huevos negativos con arroz;

todo era elegantísimo, con moños nupciales

y en los pasillos con cuadrados verdes aterciopelados

hasta los huesos funestos comían sombras de negocios.

Era sin duda una montaña semiótica para un niño como yo,

con mi canasta pirograbada con iguanas bajo el brazo

difícil de pesar apropiadamente sin inflar un globo,

pero así eran las enredaderas polacas cuando se dejaban tocar,

y si en París Londres se podía pedir emparedado de almejas con Pritt

no sabremos si los parques eran también así de disléxicos

a menos de que nos hubiesen dejado plantados

con una orquesta regional.

Yo, por mi parte,

colecciono espuma desde hace dos siglos

para peinar toboganes rusos como los de Pavlov,

y me lavo el pelo en el bidet como Supermán,

pero ni así logro taclear al camello que me ataca

por sorpresa cada miércoles a las quince

cuando me encuentro cargando las bolsas del super,

e inevitablemente me duele hasta el pelo,

y sueño la caravana pasar ante mis pecas

con todos los bisnietos de la historia,

y la crema dulce de los Cadillacs

y el inconsolable lavabo con su fuente

que nunca supimos reparar.

++

Distribuidora

Soy como un camarón diminuto

perdido en un mall fantasma

de esos que armaban los teóricos amnésicos

mientras los distraía un turbante sucio.

Hay algo que me recuerda a mi papá,

pero no sé si es ese teléfono para changos

o las algas electrónicas que salen sin avisar,

injustamente como lo tratan a uno en un hospital

cuando llegamos sin trofeos o faldas de terlenga.

Creo que extraño la época en que yo era perro

y a veces llegaban bolsas con estrellas y malvaviscos verdes,

o llovía jugo de fresa sobre nuestras zapatillas,

y todos éramos bailarines entrenados por Ravel,

y pensar que hasta ahora comprendo finalmente

considerando las varias manchas de salsa en mi chamarra,

ya nunca va a llegar el momento de las almohadas frescas

ni el de las playas violetas del sur

a pesar de que, como todos los brujos indicaban,

ahorita debería de estar cruzando Circunvalación.

No soy Polivoz, pero tampoco entiendo

estos caracoles infinitos en mi cara

que vinieron para quedarse en Indochina

o mas bien, para dejarme viendo telenovelas

en la ropería,

esperando, eternamente,

al camión.

Pablo Helguera

Otto’s Self Board Meeting

Otto:

Thank you all for coming. I had to call this emergency board meeting of all my top senior selves in order to address a matter of serious importance to the Otto Rumperstreiser Art Career Corporation. As you know, Us, Otto, have not received an invitation to do a solo exhibition for 2010. We are approaching the end of the year and so far My/Our exhibition schedule looks empty. This is an unacceptable situation that I/We all have to work quickly to correct. We just can’t allow this embarrassment. I look forward to your suggestions.

Otto, Senior Marketing Strategist:

To be honest, I have been saying all along that we don’t promote Us enough. People are not aware of our product. We have to be more aggressive. We are up against other artists who have huge galleries with promotional machinery behind them. We need to spend more money, like sending weekly emails about what we do to everyone Otto knows and maybe buy an ad on e-flux. And We have to get ourselves to more important openings. We keep going to the same stupid openings in Chelsea without collectors or decision-makers. We just need a dramatic change of tactic.

Otto, Social Etiquette Supervisor:

We have to be careful with the self-promotional thing. It looks inelegant and desperate. We don’t want to appear desperate. I agree that we need to attend higher-end openings and we need to be more on top of important people’s birthdays. But email doesn’t work anymore. People just delete whatever they get, everyone is saturated even with Facebook.

Otto, Chief Financial Officer:

I am sorry, but we can’t afford an ad campaign right now. Ads cost a fucking fortune. Otto hasn’t sold a work in months and the only money we are getting, from that lecture in that College in Ohio we are going to use it to pay for that stupid photo print job for that piece that Otto agreed to donate for the art auction, and then the rest of the money will have to be spent on that expensive dinner date this coming Friday with the French curator.

Otto, Manager of Getting Laid:

Excuse Us- the French curator actually is a promising relationship. Don’t forget that she said she is very interested in Otto’s work. And in the meantime, let’s face it, she is really hot and Otto is in dire need to get laid.

Otto, Deputy Director of Art Ideas:

Please, let’s focus on the content of Otto’s work. Without the content there is no work, without work there is no career. The other morning We were in the shower We had a really interesting idea for a video piece that would be about the slums of Morocco. It would be a multi-channel video piece and it would show these slums with a narrative of a blind Moroccan prostitute whose story Otto read the other day in Paris Match.

Otto, Coordinator of Reality Check:

That’s ludicrous. First of all, how the hell are we going to get to Morocco to do the video, and then find the prostitute? There is no fucking way we can pull that project together.

Otto, Deputy Director of Art Ideas:

You guys always have to ruin every great initiative. That is why Otto will never make it as an artist.

Otto, Chief Financial Officer:

I am sorry, but we don’t even have the money to buy that external hard drive Otto needs, let alone…

Otto:

Wait a minute. I thought we were talking about getting a show, not about coming up with a new piece!

Otto, Cheating Manager:

How about if we just steal footage from YouTube or something and get a female friend to do a prostitute voiceover?

Otto, Senior Marketing Strategist:

Wait a minute: what if we ask the French curator to do the voiceover, and then once the piece is made we ask for her help to get the piece shown? She may even have contacts in Morocco. Wasn’t it a French colony? Wasn’t she working on a show about post-colonialism? She is totally going to love this piece.

Otto, Deputy Director of Art Ideas:

I don’t know about that idea, it’s too opportunistic…

Otto, Coordinator of Reality Check:

At least sounds doable. We can pull it off.

Otto:

We are pathetic.

Otto, Manager of Getting Laid:

I think it’s a great idea. What do we have to loose? If anything, We will get laid.

This text was written as an introduction to an exhibition at the Lower East Side Tenement Museum in New York entitled “A Dictionary of Foreign Time”, which opened in January 2007.

1. Foyer: Contemporary Art and Historic Sites

A few years ago, I visited the House of the Seven Gables, the XVIIIth Century building in Salem that Nathaniel Hawthorne used as his inspiration to write his legendary novel. I had been looking forward for that moment for some time, eagerly expecting to be transported into the strange and fascinating past of New England.

Unfortunately, though, as it is the case of many historic buildings, the only way to visit the site is by following a tour guide, and the woman who became our Virgil in this enterprise looked pretty unexcited about her job. She had evidently done the tour a thousand times, and we clearly were just one more tired round (and the last one for the day, which clearly made the matters worse). I felt bad for her, and also for myself, since we both had to go through something we didn’t want to do to get what we wanted (me, to see the site, she, to get paid). She ran through dates, names and people one after another, explaining terms and preempting question and comments that surely have been asked in the past by previous visitors— and which we would perhaps have asked had we be given a minute to reflect on the dozens of facts and figures she was throwing at us. With her glassy eyes and monotone voice, she was pretty much a living and moving museum label.

Then there is the opposite kind of historic tour, which I have often seen in Mexico and, most delightfully, at archaeological sites offered by unofficial local tour guides to unsuspecting tourists. In this tour variety, historic truth is usually taken liberally and often completely thrown out the window, as we hear guides to tell incredible stories about jaguar priests and moon goddesses and their improbable relationship to the temples or grounds where one is standing. This kind of tour is like storytelling in-progress, as you can often detect that the tour guide has been refining and inserting new details into his story based not on historic accuracy but on what elements of the story would be most impressive to a Swedish teenage bag-packer. Did the Aztecs eat the hearts after the sacrifice? Did they play ball with them? The Pre-Columbian world is a perfect scenario for these kind of tours, because we know so little about so much of it that it would be impossible to ascertain the truth or fantasy of whatever a tour guide is telling us. And, while this is certainly on the other end of the spectrum of historic accuracy, one would have to agree that these sort of tours are, at the very least, entertaining.

Museum interpretation, in an ideal scenario, should be a fair balance between the two extremes- providing necessary information about a site and at the same time encouraging the ability to visualize what could have been there. What matters is the place where one inserts the creative interpretation and where one communicates the factual information.

This is the point where art and historic sites can enter into a productive interpretive relationship. The inherent interpretive openness of art can serve as an antidote to the staleness of historic interpretation, and make a historic artifact become, momentarily, a found object that can acquire new meanings.

But how can we best handle this relationship without turning art into amateur history, or historical narratives into bad novels?

2. Downstairs: Facts and Lyrics of History

Elsa Lizalde, my aunt and my closest living relative in Mexico City, unexpectedly passed away this past summer. She was an opera lover, an authority in numismatics, a gourmet cook and an unparalleled hostess. Always single, she spent her life traveling around Europe and spending her money on the best opera balconies and the best restaurant tables. Her overcrowded apartment was a perfect reflection of her personality: over the top, generous, crowded with souvenirs from her travels and cultural life experiences.

It came upon me, my mother and my sister, to travel from the US to empty out her apartment, which had been in the family home for four generations. Being the last in line of a long genealogy that broke when we emigrated to the U.S., my aunt left behind a true museum of family memorabilia that needed to be dealt with, as well as an overwhelming amount of things that she had accumulated throughout her life as part of her travels, her work, and her compulsive shopping. I thus went through the sad and somber task of selecting and eliminating an overwhelming amount of objects, books and photographs. In general, however, most objects (old train tickets, ashtrays, European souvenirs, empty perfume bottles, concert program notes) had only a symbolic or sentimental value that we could only imagine. And while we were often torn by the idea of disposing of those things that obviously had meant so much to her, we eventually had no option but to get rid of them.

When a person disappears, they take with them a whole world of meaning projected onto every object they once owned, and even if you are fastidious about memorializing, retaining these objects does little to recover the anecdotal stories that lie behind them.

While my aunt was alive, all these objects contained a private, albeit knowable, story, ranging from the silly and trivial to the truly commemorative and meaningful. Once she died, all those objects immediately became plain objects again (with the exception, of course, of those of which we happened to know their meaning and had our own personal attachment). Certainly for a stranger who walked into her apartment at that point the place looked like a museum somehow typical upper middle class apartment of the late Twentieth Century urban Mexico. By studying the objects she owned, a researcher (or a detective-historian) could put together a somehow descriptive history of her taste, travels profession and hobbies. But, with the exception for the stories that those close to her could tell, the specific “lyrics” of her life are now out of reach.

***

At the Tenement Museum in New York’s Lower East Side, most of the objects and people who lived there are gone, and what we have is a historic building that functions within the fabric of New York City in the same way than a romantic medieval ruin would function in England or Germany in the XIXth Century, or the way in which most Pre-Columbian ruins function in contemporary Latin America. It bears the marks of hundreds of stories and experiences, but paradoxically, we practically know nothing of them (other than the general facts of the period and parallel individual histories), and we have not many options but to let the imagination run wild. With the exception of the few remaining anecdotes salvaged through the contact with past living residents there (such as the Italian woman from the Confino family apartment), who do give us a general sense of the life in those rooms, for the most part we can only rely on the general historical data and research about life in those neighborhoods. Most of the objects at the museum are not the original ones, but rather, historical props that help support our narrative interpretations about what happened there.

Carlyle famously wrote that history should be composed of the biographies of the great men— which is another way of saying that regular people aren’t even worth considering. History as often been preoccupied with writing the “great” narratives, and not so much with the personal stories of the average people who lived during those times. In the case of a place like the Tenement Museum, whose protagonists were not famous people but average immigrants, there is a “lyrical vacuum” that we need to fill out through interpretation and imagination.

But aside from the absence of stories, we need to find a significant contextual background against which these stories may come to life and become meaningful to others. Museums that contain the perfectly documented life of historic figures can provide remarkably dull experiences, such as House of the Seven Gables was to me.

Even in today’s information age, where thanks to Myspace and Youtube we may now witness the first generation in the world that may be able to publicly document their own life by the minute, all these infinite stories become a wash, canceling each other in the tumult of commonplace descriptions and situations. The only ones that emerge may have less to do with the content than with the way in which they have been told.

And it is against this paradox of history where art has stepped in providing that interpretive appreciation. History may have given us the facts and the accurate theoretical evaluation about why certain things were the way they were, but the emotional character of a certain historical age have largely been artistic creations, such as the characters of Balzac and Dickens in the XIXth Century and Hollywood’s characters in the XXth.

There is certainly something mischievous about the way in which art co-opts the historic narrative and turns it into a human story, because
historic accuracy usually gives way to its dramatization, creating distorted perceptions of what may actually have happened, for the sake of art. From the tour guide in Teotihuacán making fabulous histories of moon goddesses and jaguars to Mel Gibson’s Apocalypto, history becomes a medium for art with varying degrees of historical credibility and too often the ability to influence our collective perception of historical episodes or events that may be complete fabrications (How can any historian may be able to correct now the perception that Mozart was the adolescent prankster as portrayed in “Amadeus”, or that most people in turn-of-the-century Paris weren’t dancing rap-like rhythms as suggested in “Moulin Rouge”?) It is a particularly irritating process when a complex historical narrative is turned into cheap or oversimplified bestselling story. In this scenario, history tends to become something of an endorser for movies that make the vague claim of “based on a true story”, as if for that reason the story being told necessarily had a greater charge of reality than one story that was purely inspired in imaginary events.

But this characteristic of art that plays the role of history may just underline the fact that academic historical narratives usually fail at connecting with the viewer at a personal level. What art really does, more than transporting us to another time and place, is to transport that time and place to our own time, translating it into our contemporary visual and narrative codes. And, in the case of absent historical data, art becomes a filler for those gaps. In the best cases, art doesn’t function like a replacement of history, but rather in its soul. It enacts a relationship that has existed from the earliest times: mythology is nothing but an artistic attempt to fill in an incomplete history.
In the end, we can’t understand without interpretation, and we can’t interpret without creativity.

The best metaphor that I can think of to describe the way in which art plays the role of history, is the one of a tendentious dictionary: one that provides entirely subjective, and yet fairly concrete, responses to complex puzzles of time.

3. Upstairs: Foreign Pasts and Familiar Futures

LP Hartley’s famous phrase “The past is like a foreign country: they do things differently there” adequately describes the feeling of familiarity and yet displacement that most people feel when they enter into a space like the Tenement Museum. We are twice removed from the reality we visit, both because it is distant in time and because it tells the stories of immigrants coming from distant places.

However, this phrase is also significant in the context of the historical site because it helps dispel the assumption that is communicated by the traditional interpretation such as the one I saw at the House of the Seven Gables: history is never a set narrative, but one in constant reinterpretation. Rather it is a set of markers with a multiplicity of meanings. While historic facts and figures may be unchangeable, our view about those facts is never the same, not to mention that facts alone can never transmit the essence of a place (like Elsa Lizalde’s apartment).

“The future is not what it used to be” is a phrase written by one of the most influential poets of the XIXth Century, Paul Valery. At a first glance, it is intended to be humorous (by definition, the future can’t stop being “what it was”, because it can never occur before it happens). What Valery is really talking about is that our own collective outlook of the future, or rather, the cultural role that the notion of the future plays in our present time, is not anymore regarded in the same way than in the past. The meaning of this phrase can be interesting to think about when we compare the attitudes towards the future that we’ve had over the generations. Can we claim to have the same degree of optimism that existed, say, in the U.S. after World War II, or have we grown more cynical about what is to come?

In the context of today’s America and the current political situation in which our national outlook feels bleaker than ever before and there is a sense that we keep making the same mistakes of the past, we may want to ask on whether we are more detached from the past than we should be, or the reasons for which the old proverbial, post-war American optimism of the future has today turned into delusion in some and pessimism in others. The answer to those questions may vary widely, but most would agree that they lie in how we adequately manage to learn from the past and plan for the future.

While either of them may not have had politics in mind, the one thing that both Valery and Hartley may have agreed on is that our relationship with time is ever-shifting, and that things look different, and sometimes to the point of seeming incomprehensible, as we move forward in time. And, in the same way that we may judge those who lived before us, so we will be judged by those who come after us. We happen to be the future of the people who lived at what is now a museum, and we also are the past of those who may one day live in our own homes—which, who knows, may one day be turned into museums. •••