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 [ at ] 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. Your question will be confidentially and the question will appear as anonymous unless you specify otherwise.

To see previous issues, click here.

Note to our readers: You may have noticed that The Estheticist took a two month vacation. The hiatus was due both to a decreasing stream of inquiries and to our own summer slumber. Since we did not encounter major opposition to this gap, we may continue publishing issues in accordance to the level of inquiries and less in accordance to the monthly calendar. This is, in the end, a labor of love, so we may take advantage of the fact that we have no advertisers.

Dear Estheticist,

I’m a conceptual artist in a third world country who still cant live off my art. i tried to sell photographs but collectors here are still dubious about the medium and still cling to the idea of a unique artwork. I’m not complaining about having a day job to support myself and my art, but the resentment for artists who don’t need a day job inevitably creeps in sometimes. After seeing The Grirlfriend Experience and reading about Andrea Fraser’s work about being procured for sex by a collector for money and treating that as an artwork ( though i really really hate her, everything about her), im now contemplating on doing the same (or completely whoring myself ) just to have an edge and a bigger slice of the art market. I know those kind of under the table transactions are not new but will it really be worth it in the end?

The Martyred Whore

Dear Martyred Whore,

Fraser’s piece is about using conceptual strategies to make completely explicit that subservient relationship that artists and galleries can end up playing to collectors. It is very different from turning your entire production over to the whims of whoever you think may like your work. First, you should not compare yourself to artists who don’t have a day-job- each artist has a completely different set of circumstances in their lives and it is impossible to draw useful parallels. Your collector base may reside outside of your country, and there is also an advantage to living in a distant place from major art capitals. But under no circumstance should you sacrifice the integrity of your work: it always is so much better to have a day-job than start producing substandard or commercial work for the market.

As an aside, I would offer that the reason you dislike Andrea Fraser so much is because you identify so profoundly with her work. Its an old symptom amongst artists.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

Can curators be artists?

Sincerely,

Obviously, a Curator.

Dear Obviously a Curator,

The curatorial practice is creative in its own right, but even if the curatorship of an exhibition is so brilliant as to have the resonance of an artwork, it should not aspire to be seen as one. Artworks are entities that call attention onto themselves. When curatorial projects behave that way, they usually do so at the expense of the artworks included. At some point in the 90s, around when Nicolas Bourriaud wrote Post-production, we thought that the era of the original art was over and what would replace it was only the ability to combine things, to paste together, the era of the DJ.  And in truth, this new activity has become an art in its own terms, curatorial practice included. But it has not replaced artmaking altogether. So when one curator tries to make his or her art using other people’s artworks, that usually doesn’t come off well. The problem is not on whether the curatorial practice can be considered a creative endeavor, but rather that curators who really want to be artists end up being bad artists and bad curators.

Sincerely

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

An artist whose work I like has offered to trade their artwork for mine. How can I determine a fair exchange and talk about the trade in a way that makes our relationship stronger?

Trader

Dear Trader,

Your way of operating in this circumstance will need to be both pragmatic and generous, and will also depend on the current place in the career of both of you. If both of you are more or less at the same level career-wise ( critical recognition and similar market value for your works) there should not be much of a problem: both of you should give each other the freedom to choose a work within your oeuvre of each other’s liking and then do the exchange. If you are a younger  or less recognized artist than your friend, you should be considerate and defer to him/her as to what piece (or range of pieces) he/she considers  appropriate to exchange, and even when you are given green light to choose anything you like, you should exercise good judgment (try not to go for the huge piece that clearly costed a fortune to make or one which is very coveted).  However, if you happen to be in a stronger position (market and reputation-wise) than your fellow artist, you should ignore this difference and treat your fellow artist as an equal (Sol Lewitt was famous for doing this; he would exchange works with artists he appreciated and would trade works with them even though it was clear that whatever piece he was sending was usually worth much more than whatever piece he was receiving).

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

As an artist, how do you price artwork? It’s painful to price artwork. Aren’t

they really priceless? Unless one has another job to pay for daily expenses,

artists need to make money, too, in order to live.

—Just wondering

Dear Just Wondering,

The reality of our world is that many priceless things have to be given some provisional price tag. Life is priceless, and yet if one dies there can only be a finite amount of money dedicated to this person’s life insurance. So the monetary cost of an artwork is an imperfect representation of its cultural value. As artist, you have first to accept that fact and then, if you do want or need to sell your work, adjust to the realities of the market around it. The variables will have to do with your place in your career, the impact that your work has had in the world so far, its uniqueness, etc. You can refer to the prices of other fellow artists who are in similar stages of their career than you.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist

Your opinion wil be key for an ongoing project we are going. A well known artist in Córdoba, Argentina, invited a renowned curator and three artists (including me) to curate a show of his work. My question to you is the same than the one the artist is making to us: what kind of work should he produce for this show?

I await your response.

A.L.

Dear A.L.

In some cases, artists behave like those individuals who enter a tarot parlor so that a card reader will tell them what do to. The thing about those instances is that usually the person already knows what he or she will do- the card reader only helps him or her come to that realization and feel as if some divine power enlightened her to make that decision.

The well-known artist who invited you must have had his reasons to choose all of you specifically. You should explore with him a bit further as two why he chose you, how he thinks your perception will result in an adequate curatorship, what expectations he has of you, etc. Your mission is to help him articulate, through this kind of questions, those vague ideas about the show he would do and bring those to the surface of his consciousness. You are not to dictate to him what to do.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

How does an artist promote herself without interfering with the galleries she is with and has been with for 5-10 years.  Websites,blogs, auctions, social media and contests – how, without asking about each thing – to be moral, honest and still ambitious.

Question 2 (like press at whitehouse – two part question, sorry) How can an artist go from selling at okay price, to making a living – if she sells a lot, but has no fame to raise her prices – this is a big question, I know.

Sincerely,

B.

Dear B.

1. Most galleries welcome their artists taking the initiative at promoting their work- what no one likes is to have to carry the burden of doing all the promotion for one person.  The more you spread the word about you and your gallery, the better for both. However, galleries are there to represent you, and it doesn’t look very classy when the artist becomes the extension of the PR department of the gallery- let them do the dirty work whenever possible. Galleries preserve the aura of the artist- let them do that. Focus your efforts on the aspects that they can’t help you at- asking for residencies, getting speaking gigs, going to social events where you meet potential supporters of your work. There are many more ways in which you can promote yourself without spamming people every day.

2. Regardless of how much you sell right now, your prices can only go up depending on the demand, and the demand will only increase if more people become aware of, and interested in your work. And this will only happen if you constantly seek opportunities to advance your career- obtaining museum shows, getting into biennials, maintaining a certain level of activity, etc. If your career is on a standstill or you haven’t had major breakthroughs, raising your prices will only hurt you.

sincerely,

The Estheticist

The Neologist

Mock Turtle

Term used  to refer to nouveau riche collectors who buy the worst pieces by famous name artists —usually those which no serious museum will collect. The term comes from a character from Lewis Carrol’s Alice in Wonderland.  e.g. He has a mock turtle collection.

Dear Estheticist,

As a latino artist making art about my culture, I often ask, “what’s the point of making this kind of art?” Sometimes it seems futile… everyone always says “Uptown is so far”… Is it up to me to bridge the gap?

—Washington Heights Girl

Dear Washington Heights Girl,

It is very difficult to be an artist negotiating two cultures, but it is that very need to negotiate that will make you stronger. You have been presented with both a gift and a challenge: you come from a rich background of cultural references, and you live in a situation where it is possible for you to take distance from them and see them critically.  You should not see yourself as a Latina artist against the white mainstream, or someone who needs to abandon her background to be accepted, but rather as an artist who is informed by both a latino background and a downtown art world.  And the people who may reject your art or claim you as one of their own don’t decide where you belong: they are all actors on the social and cultural environment that you are to respond to as an artist.

Both places are imperfect and uncomfortable, and both will at times appear to make you feel foreigner. But it is a necessary condition for an artist to be an outsider:  it is a necessary standpoint to better comment on reality. So while it may be a burden to, as you say, “bridge the gap”, it is essential for you to maintain a relationship between those two worlds, and use your frustration as energy toward creating more art.  The wrong direction would be to give up either uptown or downtown. As you grow into a fully –formed artist, those physical barriers will prove themselves as more psychological than real, and you and your art will eventually be able to subsume both.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

-

Dear Estheticist

As a white male philosophy major, I find myself in a position of culture-less-ness. I identify with little geographical or religious heritage. In my artistic endeavors, I find myself embracing technology as a mediator between myself and history. I honestly enjoy this bridge of philosophy, art, and technology, yet sometimes feel left out of a greater cultural movement ( e.g. latino art, etc.). Am I over-eager to attach to “the now?” How should I reconcile  my lost soul?

_MDL

Dear MDL,

Firts it is important to recognize, as you seem to do already, that we don’t choose our background— or lack of it.  This is a condition that we can’t change, and thus it is of little use to worry about how it could be different. However, there are two other things for you to think about. One of them is that the absence of a past or a culture, while perplexing, can also be incredibly liberating. Octavio Paz once wrote that Americans are successful because they are born toward the future, whereas Latin America is forced to develop looking toward the past. You should take advantage of the condition that affords you to carry a heavy weight of history. Secondly, there is nothing wrong on wanting to engage with the present, but to cling to any set of labeled movement, be it self-proclaimed or imaginary (eg. latino art) doesn’t turn you automatically into a motivated or original thinker. Your solution is not to find a culture, but to find motivation and ideas. You should travel, have experiences, engage with your times, meet people that you may feel are kindred spirits, and through those experiences you will eventually create a culture of your own, which in turn will lead to your artistic vision.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

-

Dear Estheticist,

A few weeks ago, after contacting the curators of an exhibition, I received an official email letter from the institution’s curatorial team stating that my work had been reviewed and that “after careful consideration,” it was not going to be included in the show, but that they would keep my files for “future possibilities.” Last week, I received a beaten down and dirty envelope. To my dismay, it was the same package I had sent to the curators. Unopened, and still bearing the red marks of “return to sender” it was accompanied by a US Postal note stating that it had been lost in transit and couldn’t be delivered. Besides the inefficiency of the postal service, and the time that took them to notify me, I am distraught by the curator’s claim that my work had actually been reviewed and archived for later consideration. What to do? Should I print and frame the letter along with the returned envelop and include it in a future exhibition called “Rejects From the Heart?” Should I create a public performance denouncing this rather (un)common practice and call it “My Missing Files?” Pictures included, should I Tweeter it, Facebook it, MySpace it (does this one still exist?) Should I call the Ethical Commission on Curatorial Practices and Exhibitions? or should I discretely and valiantly TAKE IT LIKE A MAN and swallow my semi-broken artistic aspirations, pride and prejudice?

Please advice… I plea to your moral, aesthetic, and ethical wisdom.

Hector Canonge

Dear Hector,

Your frustration with this mishandling of your materials is perfectly understandable, and it is not acceptable for any organization to mail artists a form letter about their work without having even bothered to check on whether a submission was indeed received.  However, the circumstances around these kind of situations are important to consider:  you did not specify, for example, the kind of organization you interacted with (which makes a difference, as I shall explain ) and on whether your submission was an unsolicited one or if it was sent in response to a call for entries. If, for instance, you submitted an unsolicited proposal to an alternative art space or gallery,  I would be a bit less indignant toward them. It is no secret that non-profit art spaces and galleries are inundated by unsolicited requests, and they have a hard time to keep track of all submissions, which prompts them to regularly send form letters. This, while not a nice practice, is about the only thing they can possibly do to keep up with the avalanche of requests they get, and this practice is bound to result in ocassional glitches like the one you unfortunately just suffered. However, if in contrast you submitted in response to a call for entries ( either for an art competition, foundation, or art space) and you received this response, the act reveals a serious incompetence and error in their selection infrastructure and would put into question the objectivity or value of their entire selection process. Artists who submit to competitions, calls for entries, etc. are entitled to having their materials be opened and reviewed, and at the very least be seen by the actual decisionmaker of the opportunity (that is, not a random intern). As such, it is appropriate to write a letter of complaint to the director of the organization, and if it is ignored,  go public about it — not out of vengeance, but in the interest of pressuring them to correct the problem in the future.

In any case you need to see this oversight not as a curatorial verdict on your work but as plain and simple mismanagement. It may only be a consolation prize, but you may agree that it is still better to be rejected by accident than intentionally.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

-

Dear Estheticist,

What is art?

Sincerely,

Swiss Girl

Dear Swiss Girl,

Congratulations for being the first one in the history of this column to ask the more basic question about art.  George Quasha, a New York artist, is in my view the authority on the subject. Quasha has spent many years collecting video interviews with more than 800 artists, curators, writers, etc. responding to this question.

http://www.quasha.com/art-is/art-is

When one reviews the many responses, it is clear that there are as many answers as individuals. This suggests that the main issue about this question is that it can never be given a final answer, as whichever provisional answer is given can immediately be contradicted by a new way of interpreting what art is. Art is a discipline designed to transform itself permanently, along with its values and structure, thus no satisfactory answer can be given.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

-

Dear Estheticist,

Here is my dilemma: I get this email from a Gallery called XXX Fine Art in Chelsea to come in to visit because they like my work.  A while back they had seen my work in an art show and left me a card.  I must admit I did not like the work in their gallery but I thought I would feel it out maybe there would be a change in curation.  I go in and they tell me I should apply to this competition they are having for a show there as well as in Korea and it costs $60.00 (the woman points to the bank in Korea on the application that I should send it too). It was all nice but after I left I decided not to apply. I thought it was a little shady because the work hanging on the walls in no way resembled my work. So then I get this email that thanks me for my submission (they assumed I applied) but I did not get in. I was like huh? then I see on their web page the deadline was in January. Did they really need my money that bad? I want to email them back and tell them that I never bothered applying.  Is this a flat out scam that I should report to the Better Business Bureau?

Sincerely,

Artist who feels that XXX Fine Arts must think Artists Are Idiots

Dear Artist who feels that Able Fine Arts must think Artists Are Idiots,

You did well in trusting your instinct. The fact that the work you saw on view was substandard and not connected with what you do should already be, automatically, a reason to walk away.  If what you see looks bad, it is bad — there is no use in hoping it may get better in the future. Furthermore, art galleries have no business in creating competitions, let alone asking artists to pay them to review their work. While it is not an illegal practice, it is professionally slimy and revealing of a business with zero credibility. Galleries like this prey on uninformed artists to capitalize on their eagerness to be exhibited in New York, and unfortunately there are always those who fall for their scam, thinking that they will get positive exposure and status.  They don’t realize that, with galleries like these, they would be better off selling their works on the street— either here or in Korea.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

-

Dear Estheticist:

I am curating a large international show. An artist whose work I have followed and admired for long invited me to give a talk at a seminar that he is organizing. I accepted. Meanwhile, during the curatorial meetings with my co-curators his name was mentioned, and we all agreed that his work was perfect for our show. I disclosed immediately this possible conflict of interests. I personally feel that there is none, but, as they say, “Caesar’s wife should not only be honest, but look honest” I would like to go forward with the invitation, but am afraid that it will be read as a quid-pro-quo situation. Any advice?

Sincerely,

Concerned Curator.

Dear Concerned Curator,

For starters, as I assume that you are recognized curator since you are curating a large-scale exhibition, an invitation by an artist to an event is not quite comparable to the opportunity you would offer to him: an invitation to this seminar, I presume, is not a distinction that would substantially enhance your position in the art world.  But setting that aside, what the popular refrain that you mention should add is that even if Ceasar’s wife is and looks honest she may still not look so to those who want her to be dishonest. What this means is that there is no way that you can possibly prevent a public misreading of your actions.  As such, you are left with proceeding with what you consider the most appropriate way according to your curatorial expertise as what matters the most is to make the best exhibition possible. Being overly concerned to what the rest of the world may think or say about your actions may lead you to make the wrong curatorial choices. If you (and your colleagues) think the artist you admire is the appropriate artist for this exhibition, not only may you end up replacing him for a less ideal artist but you will also take away this opportunity from him only for a hypothetical fear of a public backlash.  Remember that other saying, that “hell is paved with good intentions”: many shows are constructed out of political correctness, desire of inclusivity, and other moral rules that, while perhaps democratic or fair, can result in terrible exhibitions.

Curators (and artists) who mainly operate through cronyism quickly reveal themselves as such, as this practice displays a pretty visible pattern that shows them acting out of opportunism and connections rather than an integral and objective vision. If you have not had such behavior in the past, your track record should speak against those suspicions.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

-

Dear Estheticist

What is the best question someone should ask about art?

Julien Isore

Dear Julien,

Opinions may differ around the attributes that such a question would have, but I will put forward that the best question one can ask about art has to address on whether there is an underlying order in the variability of the process by which art becomes relevant.

I explain: I am assuming that the best question about art should arguably be the one which helps us dig the deepest regarding the very nature of art. However, this is easier said than done, because the more familiar questions about art offer little enlightement toward the issue and actually are closer to non-questions. To better understand this, let’s look at some of those clichè contenders for the best question about art: “what is art?”, or perhaps “how is something art?” If you think about it, you will realize that the last two questions have been more or less rendered obsolete by the avant-garde: it is fairly established that anything can be art and that there are set mechanisms that make it (or can make it) so.  For this reason, questions about how something is or becomes art are not that problematic or controversial— they are closed questions.  A similar nonstarter is “is this good or bad art?”, as you enter into the quicksand of subjective evaluation, from which you are not likely to emerge with any useful knowledge. In other words, closed questions of this type only refer to definitive, but un-inspiring answers.

So what is more important is to figure out not why I like an artwork and you don’t, but how is it that an art work gains relevance in a particular moment and time amidst a group of people. More promising is the question “how does art become relevant?” along with the more specific “how is this art work relevant to us today?” which presupposes that there are criteria that would help us determine relevance, so that question can only be answered by previously answering the mother question: “are sets of criteria to determine the relevance of art or a specific art work variable, and if so, how?”  The answer to the first half of this question, if art history is any indication, is yes:  evaluative criteria in art vary according to cultural and social periods,  and while some constants often remain (say, we generally agree on the general importance of, say, Velazquez) it is not clear to us, up to this point at least, on whether there is a clear logic to the mutation of taste and of evaluative criteria in art. It likely is caused by a wide set of factors that move us from period to period, deciding, for instance, that Picasso from the standpoint of 2011 may not be as important to us as is, perhaps, Duchamp. But we have no way of predicting how that perception may change again (for all we know, maybe in one hundred years we will decide that, say, Lèger, was the greatest artist of the XXth century). The key lies in answering the question: is there a constant within the variability of art that help us understand its relevance for a particular time and place?  That may be the best question one may ask about art, as answering it may let you know not only what is it that makes us gravitate toward certain kinds of art today, but also what art may look like tomorrow.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Is it ethical to push a painter to the train tracks if it will kill him but stop the train and save the life of two video artists?

Y.o.

Dear Y.o.,

No: it is unethical to waste the commuter’s time and prevent them from arriving on time to their real jobs.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

–

The Neologist

Direct Labor

Term used to refer to the amount of actual physical or mental work involved in the creation of an art work, often with the purpose to argue for a higher or lower price.

Collection Mining

Practice by dealers and curators of discreetly gauging the collection of a rich donor during a reception at their home, with the hopes to identify their interests and influence possible future sales, purchases, or donations.

Regression

Term applied to artists who, after trying a new style in their work that results unsuccessful, revert to a previous style that was better received critically.

Chaperonage

Factor taken into consideration when assessing the social ranking of a yet unknown quantity in the art world by seeing who this person is being accompanied at a social event. Considering his chaperonage, he must be a really hot artist.

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 [ at ] 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. Your question will be confidentially and the question will appear as anonymous unless you specify otherwise.

To see previous issues, click here.

Dear Estheticist,

I am a very talented emerging artist who is being invited to shows in small galleries or modest art spaces, but I don’t want to spoil my career by showing in these places. I want to start big, and so I am holding out to be picked up for a big show in a museum or gallery. Do you approve of my approach?

Thank you,

Ambitious Artist

Dear Ambitious Artist,

Your gamble is risky and borders on the unrealistic. In order for your plan to work you would need to be a genius and be lucky, two very rare things. You could, on the other hand, be an average artist with an overblown sense of self, which, in contrast, is very common. And you don’t have the distance to be a good judge of which one of the two you are.

Furthermore, your logic that showing in a lesser space will only create a diminished impression of your work is not entirely sound either. Almost no great artists had their start by having a full-scale show at a major museum, but instead started by showing at fairly humble spaces (some of which may now feel legendary, but only in retrospect). And finally, you become a great artist by exhibiting, so you should take the opportunities that are being given to you. If your work is meant to go to bigger places, chances are it will get there eventually by being shown, not by turning down exhibition offers.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

What sort of performance interventions that engage with a governmental body or political community (i.e. congress, city council, lobbyist bar crawl, political fundraiser, etc.) would you be interested in seeing? If an artist solicits answers to a question like the preceding one from a community, and then performs them, where does authorship lie, and how does s/he keep the relationship and artistic product ethical?

—SW

Dear SW,

You may remember Komar and Melamid’s project of asking a group of people what kind of painting they wanted to see: the result is, almost invariably, a kitschy painting ( usually of a landscape ) which not many artists would be too proud to claim as their author.

Your question appears to depart from the premise that the artist role before individuals or communities is similar to the one of a contractor, who comes to a place to perform a specific job (like an electrician or a plumber). The problem with this thinking when applied to contemporary art is that audiences without an expertise in art practice won’t know how to direct an artist nor be able to envision the possibilities that an artist can bring to them— thus if you ask, say, the council of a small town what kind of public art they would like they may ask for a pretty mural.

What ends up happening is that by relinquishing your control of the artistic process you also relinquish any possibility of making a work that may have a degree of criticality and experimentation, both of which are needed to produce a substantive work. Your proposal would certainly benefit by being attentive to the interests and hopes of the community, but it should not just be subservient to it. You want to challenge your audience as much as you would like to engage them, and hopefully give them a work that can both instigate a dialogue and retain artistic integrity.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

After reading the Manual of Contemporary Art Style, I am convinced that I should give up the pursuit of my own personal artistic vision in exchange for a strategy that has more of a chance to lead to my financial and curatorial success. How can I tear myself away from a commitment to becoming the artist that I was meant to be?

Sincerely,

Graduate Seminar Class Member, 3D Department
University of Tennessee, Knoxville

Dear Graduate Seminar Class Member,

You need to start by answering two questions to yourself. First, when you say “the artist that I was meant to be”, what kind of artist is that exactly? And the second is, why is the financial and curatorial success more important to you than pursuing that original artistic vision?

You alone can answer those questions, but whatever route you choose to follow the key realization you may eventually encounter is this: there is no true success unless it is the result of your true artistic vision. What the Manual of Contemporary Art Style does is to provide you a few tips toward social climbing and calculated social tricks to get attention (mainly with the intention to expose the cynicism of these practices). This does not constitute a true career plan and in the long run is kind of a pact with the devil— ultimately your opportunism will show and will make your career collapse. In other words, doesn’t matter how able you are at strategy— ultimately your work has to evidence some originality and imagination, and that is only achieved with an artistic vision. One can argue that Warhol was all strategy, but his very strategy was actually at the core of his artistic vision—thus his genius.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Is not making art art?

Fluxus artist, France

Dear Fluxus artist,

This is more of a logical than an aesthetic paradox, and it all depends on whether you are stating “ I am not making art”. If you say that you are not something, (think of Nixon’s infamous “I am not a crook” statement) you (intentionally or not) are still defining yourself against it, and invite the possibility for someone to argue the opposite. This dynamic is the central engine of art. Non-art is an extension of art as it is a negative territory determined by the existence of art, or rather, it is “art-at-large” (see The Neologist section). In his Negative Dialectics, Adorno argues that we achieve meaning on objects through negations, not through affirmations. What one needs to do in order to effectively abandon the possibility that something may not ever be art is to escape the declarative territory, where non art cannot even be named, where it remains invisible. The moment we find it, we have already taken a step to claim it as art.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

Can current post-production practices be a stimulus to rediscover the historical role in culture that editors, collectors, librarians have played, as well as any other individuals who have been previously shadowed by authors, composers and interpreters? *

Sincerely,
Editor, Mexico City

[*this question is in connection to Nicolas Bourriaud, who argues in his book “Post-Production” that artists today operate closer to the way Deejays do.]

Dear Editor,

If by “rediscovering the historical role” of editors, collectors and librarians you are referring to gaining a better appreciation of the act of information or art collecting and organizing as a creative act, I believe that this appreciation has always existed, and I don’t think that ideas around post-production alter it in a significant way. If, on the other hand, you are referring to the possibility of elevating these individuals’ work (which admittedly is seen as secondary to the art production they process and organize) as art in its own right, the answer would be that this has also always happened, but always also as part of a process of retroactive reconstruction in which we, from our collective present, declare a particular editorial or curatorial project as art. For example, we can determine that Antonio Carreño’s 1930s Manual or Good Manners (social etiquette) reads as wonderful literature, but we can’t deny the historical fact that this work was not written with that purpose, but instead in all earnestness as a compilation of adequate social behavior. Carreño thus turns into a great writer in an accidental way, or rather, through a deliberate process through which we, and not Carreño, have constructed. In fact this automatically happens, independently of any theories in vogue: a good deal of medieval literature and art, which was not meant to be art or literature in the form that we understand it today, has been accepted as such. Anonymous Russian Icons are now declared as art and not just religious tributes.

In any case, I would not hurry to say that post-production theory amounts to a declaration of independence for librarians. The way that it is formulated by Bourriaud, post-production refers to a way of making works which incorporate the mechanisms and methods such as appropriation, juxtaposition, found object, collage, etc. While these methods may come from disciplines connected to research and techical knowledge (the editor or the librarian) these are incorporated into a critical discourse with the intention to formulate a statement. If you don’t accept this distinction and instea declare that all research is art, then you need to extend the honor to practically every kind of activity that consists in writing things: the author of the ingredients in the cereal box merits equal literary consideration than the editor.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

What suggestions would you offer artists who are seeking to overcome creative blocks?

Sincerely,

Miss Constipated

Dear Miss Constipated,

There are many strategies to overcome creative blocks.
Some of them include 1. Change one’s environment. This means something as simple as going to a new coffee shop to think, going on a trip, a residency, or simply going for a walk. The change in routine and exposure to new spaces help you to thinking about your work in a different way. 2. Seek inspiration by spending a period of time reading, visiting exhibitions, or revisiting works that in the past have inspired you; 3. Impose exercises to yourself to loosen up your creativity. Some of these could include to fill a booklet of post-it notes with ideas or words in a short period of time, then display them on a wall and see if what emerged is of interest; take a ream of paper and make a drawing per minute (or write an idea or sketch for a potential work) for an hour; etc. 4. Talk to a group of friends about your work; hold a critique or simple conversation and bounce off ideas from them; 5. Collaborate with someone to produce a new work. I don’t particularly endorse drugs and alcohol as a methodical solution, but they have unquestionably helped many to create. Approaches abound: Rachmaninoff, for instance, pursued hypnotherapy, with success.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

I am a professor at an art college in the West Coast. A talented BFA student who I have tutored closely asked me for a recommendation for grad school a few months ago and I gladly accepted. However, as our relationship grew more casual over the school year, at some social event at school the student made a demeaning and hurtful comment to me about my personal life. His comment was done in jest, and I may have invited such relaxed behavior as I am usually for breaking the hierarchy barriers with students. However, I am deeply offended and feel it was a completely uncalled for insult. I made this clear to the student and asked him to never talk to me again unless it was for strict school business. Now the student has written to me to ask me if I can still write his recommendation. I want to stay true to my word, but at the same time I don’t think I can vouch for this student’s character anymore. What to do?

Sincerely,

Offended Professor

Dear Offended Professor,

A professional recommendation to graduate school usually includes vouching not only for the student’s academic record but also for his or her character. Given that your estimation of the student’s character is clearly now diminished by that incident you described, you should be direct with him and let him know that due to what happened you don’t think you would be the best person to recommend him at this point.
However, while this experience may prove educational to him, it may also be educational to you. You yourself say that you may have encouraged this student to engage with you more casually; by doing so, you may have given the wrong impression to this young student that he could interact with you as with any classmate. While he displayed poor judgment, you also sent wrong signals by actively breaking the professor-student social barriers and then being surprised that the student relaxed enough to speak his mind. You should consider on whether a cordial, yet slightly more distant relationship could serve you, and your students, better.

Sincerely,
The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

What are the pros and cons for emerging artists working in small cities vs. large cities?

—In Between

Dear In Between,

The large city gives you greater exposure to current exhibitions, debates, and dialogues going on in the international art scene — a kind of exposure that is hard to replace. The small city typically offers cheaper rents, and in some cases, better material resources to make art (say a university town). It, however, can get too comfortable and not challenge you enough as an artist —sometimes without you even realizing it. In the end, as an emerging artist who seeks to become established needs to maintain an ongoing relationship with the large art capitals, if it is not by moving there, certainly by maintaining a presence there (traveling frequently, working with a gallery in that city, etc).

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

How can an artist who has previously separated a fine art practice from social or political advocacy merge the two into effective social art?

Sincerely,

Super Activist

Dear Super Activist,

First, how is it that both of these activities currently exist separately in your life? Could it be that it is better that both function in separate ways? How would your art benefit from becoming explicitly social (assuming that what you did before wasn’t)?
What does your activism gain from your acting not as an individual but as an artist?
The reason these questions are important is because many artists who feel the moral imperative to abandon bourgeois-type of art production and turn instead to a social form. Yet art that is didactic, illustrative or subservient to a social cause is not worth pursuing as art- instead, it is best to just do activism without the aspirations of making art works. This is not to say that an artist can, and should, effectively be involved politically and socially — it is a civic duty to be so, and not only for artists. And there are indeed many artists who have successfully integrated their aesthetic concerns along with their social and political views. The merging of the both, however, should happen naturally. If instead you make social art out of a sense of duty, you may be short-changing the art part.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

The Neologist

In this new section, we propose new art terms that address current phenomena in art.

Idea-Beautiful
Euphemism used to describe an artwork which departs from a wonderful and/or original idea but is poorly executed.

Art-at-large
Refers to ideas, situations, or objects which have been deemed as direct opposites of art ideas, situations or objects. As soon as an artist declares something to be art, and its opposite not to be, this opposite is only one step away from being claimed as someone else as art — thus it is “art at-large.”

Dealer Spiel
Refers to the two-line sound bite that a dealer typically learns to say about an artwork he or she is exhibiting at an art fair. Dealer spiels have to be extremely concise about who the artist is, what their work is about, and what the piece being examined is. For example: “She is a video artist who lives in Chechnya. Her work is about the Chechen war and this piece is from a series of short films about her bombed neighborhood.”

Curatorial Rigging
Term that refers to curators who specialize in riding curatorial trends en vogue, often exhibiting the better known artists of the moment.

Readymade Career
The term refers to those artists who base their entire production in the direct imitation of the body of work of another, better-known artist to the point of almost literal appropriation, arguing that they only reference the work.

Mock Turtle Art
Describes the kind of artworks within the field of social practice which claim to transform, emancipate or educate audiences but which in reality only do so in a symbolic manner. (the term “mock turtle”, popularized by Lewis Carroll, refers to an 18th British soup which was a cheaper imitation of the real green turtle soup. In Alice in Wonderland, a character known as the Mock Turtle lectures incomprehensibly to Alice about her own education).

Unknown Likes /Known Unlikes
A merger of the Facebook Like/Unlike formula and the famous Donald Rumsfeld statement of “ there are known unknowns [...] and there are unknown unknowns” etc. mentioned before the Iraq war. Used as shorthand by young collectors to refer to those types of pieces or artists that they beforehand know that they will be predisposed to collect or dismiss.

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 [ at ] 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. Your question will be confidentially and the question will appear as anonymous unless you specify otherwise.

Dear Estheticist,

Recently I wrote a critical review about an artist. Just three days before this review was published, the dealer who represents this artist had invited me to submit an exhibition proposal for his gallery. I was very happy. However after the review went online, the artist told me that he and his dealer were very upset. I wrote to the dealer, but I never hear back from him. What should I do?

Multitasking Curator

Dear Multitasking Curator,

You are experiencing the inconvenient world of trying to be both a critic and a curator (That’s your first mistake).  There is a reason why critics usually don’t curate exhibitions and why curators shouldn’t spend their free time writing criticism— both things are not very compatible and I have yet to see someone who can pull both of them off spectacularly well.  Now, assuming that your review was negative (since otherwise I doubt both dealer and artist would have been upset), it does appear  hypocritical to dis a gallery in public while at the same time expecting them to open their space to you (second mistake). If they would indeed give you the opportunity and you did curate a show there, one couldn’t help but wonder how come you are willing to work with a gallery that you publicly hold in such low regard.  Furthermore, it is quite understandable that if the dealer doesn’t feel supported from you he would not feel precisely compelled to support you in return. Not all of us are good Samaritans. I am afraid that there is not much you can do about this situation but to try to mend fences over time with the gallery. For starters, writing a positive review wouldn’t hurt.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Estheticist -

I need time to make art. I need money to make art. I need time to make money.

When I take time to make money, I dont have time to make art. But I have money

to make art. But with only money to make art and no time to make art, then I can

not make art. How does this vicious cycle end?

Cheers,

David

Dear David,

Thank you for your question. You are right: art takes time and money, but so does eating. Do you stop eating when you don’t have time and money?

People who want to be artists but aren’t really serious about making art, use the money/time excuse as a cop-out for giving up on making art. The reality is that when art is absolutely vital for your life, you will find the time to make it.   And while money certainly helps, it is not an absolute requirement, e.g. conceptual art.

I understand, however, that your question points out to how to achieve a satisfying amount of time and money to make art. The reality is that most of us will never arrive to that point, but there are three things we can do to get there. One is to take the structures within the art world that allow artists with this problem to have enough time and sustenance to make their art. That is what residencies are for, and to an extent, graduate school (in some situations).

Another thing you should do is to learn resourcefulness from people that are more disadvantaged than you.  Most handicapped people don’t give up living because they have a handicap; they instead learn how to live with their handicap and sometimes even turn it into their advantage. You should take the potential of every limiting situation. If you run out of paper, can you find another surface to make art on? if you only have one hour each day, can you dedicate it to build a long term project? You are an artist: what artists do is to be creative and thrive the more things get tough.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

***

Dear Estheticist,

As an artist who does performance and interactive work, most of the stuff I make becomes known through documentation, and I am very good at that. The thing is that I can easily make documentation look like the original performance or collaboration was spectacular, when in fact it may have barely happened or not been successful. A friend of mine criticizes me for doing this, but I way that as an artist the concept is what matters and its my right as an artist to present whatever I want whether its fact or fiction. Am I correct?

Public Artist

Dear Public Artist,

You certainly have the right to do and say whatever you like as an artist, in the same way that I have the right to say that I built a palace in the middle of the Amazon or that I fought in Vietnam. Your problem is that you are like a fiction writer whose audience thinks that he/she is a non-fiction writer. As such, you are just as good as your lies are. And while lying is key to art-making, if these lies don’t do much more other than conceal the defects of your interactive processes, then you better make sure that no one gets to see the actual events—ever (which I guess may be tough since theoretically I think you will need people to at least pretend they are interacting). Otherwise, the day they realize that what you do mainly exists in Photoshop you may find yourself that your career was also a fiction.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

Is it ok to make financial  profit from art that is about social injustice?

—Socialist

Dear Socialist,

It is not ok for anyone to benefit from social injustice in any way. This is why there are laws that prevent criminals from seeking financial profit to, say, write books about their crimes.  But to forbid an artist to sell a work about a particular social issue would then penalize those who are genuinely concerned on what’s happening in the outside world and instead reward those whose work avoids controversy. Furthermore, despite what you may hear,  social causes can benefit from the work of those who call attention to it. In such situation the motivation behind each art project about a delicate subject  must be interrogated, and until the full context of the work is understood it should not be necessarily condemned as a cinical strategy or  praised as a heroic act.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

I’m 35, I have a solid resume, and for the most part I’ve been able to maintain full-time artist status (largely due to artist residency programs/fellowships) since getting my MFA seven years ago.  My work is contemporary and conceptual, though not very marketable.  I have been fairly successful with promoting visibility of my work, but I need more.  How can I get a solo museum show instead of all these University galleries and non-profit spaces?

How can I get nominated for grants like Louis Comfort Tiffany award, Artists Legacy Foundation, Nancy Graves Foundation?  I realize the answer lies in needing my work seen by leading curators in the big cities- how can I do that?

Hunger Artist

[the inquirer enclosed a webpage listing extensive residencies, resume, etc.]

Dear Hunger Artist,

You certainly have lots of experience and developed a substantial body of work. And that, interestingly enough, is a problem in your case. Why? Because the way you brought yourself there was through residencies and the university gallery circuit. Which is great, but you must break that pattern if you want to move on. To use a very pedestrian, but accurate, metaphor, think about people who want to lose weight: no diet will ever work if it doesn’t involve a substantial change of lifestyle. In your case, my suspicion is that because you are so good at getting residencies and shows at smaller university and non-profit spaces you continue doing that with the fear that if you don’t do it then your career will end.  It won’t. But it certainly is taking a great deal of time to you to attend all these residencies and producing the kind of work that one produces in a residency. I suggest that you become more selective as to the residencies you attend: only go to the best ones. Same goes for the small university shows, which at this stage in your career will do little, if anything, to boost your reputation. Plan a solo museum exhibition, even if there is no museum yet to take it: it is important that you start visualizing your work in that way.  Then if your goal is to  move to the next level, you need to set your views on the programming of the museums and institutions that produce them. That also means to become more familiar with the people around them and the things they debate and discuss. You may not have to move to New York or London to do this, but it would certainly help you more to make an effort to become more involved in New York than attending a few out of the way residencies. Make an effort to get out of there and build a resume of shows in Europe and other places. By showing an international profile will you  likely become more visible to the people at home who make the decisions about the grants that you seek. And also don’t convince yourself that your work is not marketable: the reputational economy is just as important in the art world, and it is not dependent on whether you make sellable work.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

***

Dear Estheticist,

Is it important for galleries to participate in art fairs (Scope, Red Dot, The Armory show, etc.)? It this the “gateway” into the active art market? Assuming that the role of the gallery is to promote and engage the public, if a gallery chooses not to partake in fairs, aren’t they doing their artists a great disservice? Is it extreme to say that a gallery that is not included in fairs, simply does not exist?

I represented by a gallery that does not participate in fairs, and has not sold any of my paintings. I barely receive correspondence from the owners. Am I wrong to feel under promoted? I do not mean to sound like a disgruntled art snob, but perhaps I am confused on the appropriate gallery/ artist relationship. Even having attended art school, I am still perplexed by the inner workings of the market place.

Regards, Andrea D.

Dear Andrea,

Regarding galleries participating in art fairs: yes, it is important for them to participate in these events.  There are a few galleries, however, who have a built clientele and reputation to an extent that they don’t have the need to be out there, but these tend to be very established galleries. For the most part, young galleries are expected to be active and maintain an international profile. Participating in international art fairs is the natural way to do it. Those galleries that don’t invest that way indeed end up going under the radar and remaining mostly local enterprises. So yes, it doesn’t help you as an artist if your gallery doesn’t take your work anywhere, but most importantly, if they don’t do anything to compensate that lack of support. It is telling when a small gallery doesn’t participate in any fairs: it means either that they have limited resources or ambition, or that they don’t have the cache to be accepted into the professional art fair circles. Either way, those are troubling signs.

Second: the reason an artist works with a gallery is to have an advocate for the work that will promote it and introduce it to the market. If neither of those things are happening at all, then you may be better off without representation. No gallery is better than being represented by a bad gallery. And by letting yourself being represented by a bad gallery, you are preventing the possibility of a better gallery that truly relates to what you do to come by and take you on.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Hi Estheticist,

I am an artist who is looking for a place to live. I have lived the third world all my life city and obtained an MFA. Now, I have the chance to do another MFA which is waiting for me in a first world city (Oxford), but I have no money to move and live there. The government and the art institutions in my country do not think I am good enough to invest in me.

Should I go or should I stay in my current city even I have no friends, no fame (I don’t even want to be famous) not political affiliation, no institution that looks for me —so what would you recommend? ( the master program in this first world city is not even famous). What should I do? Go to this master in the first world, ask for a loan to the bank? work hard there? Please help!

Sincerely yours,

Veronica

Dear Veronica,

I believe your instinct to leave is correct, but you need to clarify to yourself what is it exactly that you are looking for. It also looks like you think that pursuing a second masters as your only escape route. Is it really another degree, is it to become a better artist, is it to get connected with the art world, or is it just to escape at any cost?

Change is always desirable, but moving to another country to study at a place that you don’t even consider that worthwhile, and without money, can be a recipe for disaster. Not only you risk attending an unimpressive school, but you will expose yourself to very harsh financial sacrifices that will leave you in deep debt or will force  you to work to an extent that your sustenance will take precedence over any learning experience. So, you need to leave, yes, but you’ve got to have a plan.

It is true that master degree programs provide you with a structure from which to develop. But before you ask for a giant bank loan, what I recommend is that you consider other options than an expensive first-world masters from an undistinguished university— especially because you already have a degree. You may benefit more from doing three short residencies in cities with rich art life. You can apply to a residency and have a chance to get it all covered. The rent in Berlin is cheap and you would be exposed to a lot of great art activity. Buenos Aires is also affordable and the art scene is growing there. And if you don’t want to go to an art world capital, then you should consider going to a culturally charged place that would be a great inspiration for your work. If you do those initial short-term excursions, you may be surprised with what you find. Most importantly, you will have a chance to develop relationships in those places and it may help you in the future to do a more determined, and informed, move back there, or elsewhere. And maybe even, even if you don’t want it, become famous.

sincerely,

The  Estheticist.

***

Dear Estheticist:

Your ad intrigued me. I’m actually curious about what answer you give to your sample question: How DOES one enter into the biennial circuit?

Many thanks!

Matilda

Dear Matilda,

The answer is simpler than what you may think.

People think that the genres of visual art are photography, sculpture, performance, etc. but that’s not true. That belongs to the XXth century.

The XXIst century genres of visual art are: museum art, biennial art, gallery art, academic art, and so forth.

Ok, I am exaggerating, but I hope you will get my point. To understand what I mean you simply need to go to museums, biennials, and galleries, and pay attention to the kind of work that is being shown in those places, and the way they speak to each other, and the way that curators build narratives with them (that is their own curatorial narratives). These works have certain characteristics. Works that enter museum collections are precisely, collectable. Works that exist in galleries are usually sufficiently self-contained that they can be easily collected. So-called “biennialist” artists, like gymnasts who go to the olympics, are those trained in the language of biennials, which tends to be more of the complement to what you see in museums: less collectible, more site-specific, more experimental, and yes, more spectacular. My point is that there is a sensibility in the exhibition conditions of the biennial that tend to be different from other places (that is, they usually happen in culturally-interesting cities that only on those occasions become the center of the art world like Venice, Istanbul, Sao Paulo,etc, they are visited by a sophisticated, usually more intellectual public than the one that goes to art fairs, they tend to be more about politics than about the market, etc), and artists who participate in these events are usually aware of these conditions, OR their work simply fits naturally within them and curators who select them recognize that.

This is not to say that an artist can’t exist in museums or biennials simultaneously, of course, but in those cases their work has shown enough range that it can exist and function in those various registers.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Estheticist -

What is more important – To be a husband and a father and not a successful full-time artist, which means you may resent your children and wife. Or, to be a successful full-time artist with no love-of-your-life and no children?

Cheers,

DGH

Dear DGH,

Some people will tell you that one has to sacrifice everything for art. This comes from the romantic cliché statement that all art must come from suffering. This idea was critiqued as early as the late XIXth century by Nietszche in “The Birth of Tragedy”, where he argues that in order to transcend nihilism one needs to balance Dionysian and Apollonian aspects of life. (Dionysian being closer to irrational, chaos and feeling, and Apollonian being closer to rationality, order and control).

The problem that we usually face as artists, and as humans in general, is not understanding what fulfillment is all about. Yes, for an artist what appears the perfect picture of fulfillment is to have a successful career and have a family around who will care about you. But what is success to you, and is children and spouse the answer to happiness?  Part of the problem, according to psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihaly, is that we are too egocentric to understand what is good to us. Csikszentmihaly, who is a lead thinker in the field of positive psychology, did a thorough study of what makes people feel happy. He discovered that when we are the most happy is when we are in a state that he described as “Flow”, a kind of deep concentration where our ego goes away.  If you were to translate this idea into art making, you may recognize the feeling of “Flow” in the process of making an artwork. The key is how to be able to arrive to conditions in your life that will allow you to reach a level of flow on a regular on the most frequent basis. These conditions will vary with every person: for some the stability of a relationship actually is beneficial for a successful career; for others, the emotional investment of a relationship is too distracting for making art. You have to find the combination that may best suit you. What you can be certain, however, is that the answer does not lie on whether you acquire only one or the other or both: it is on whether you can find the right balance or work and life to feel fulfilled.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

Is it possible to sustain a successful career as an artist, curator, and arts administrator all at once? Or is it necessary to choose just one?

Sincerely,

Overextended in the Art World

Dear Overextended,

The answer is that while it is possible to joggle different functions in the art world, you have to eventually choose one.

There are first the issues of profession and then the issues of perception. Let’s start with the professional part. First of all, being an artist is completely different than being a curator, arts administrator, art historian, critic or collector, because art making is not a profession: it is a way of life, a calling, that if pursued seriously affects everything else.  Because of this reason it is possible to do side activities besides your art, but you have to never forget that your artwork is the central focus of your life.  As you may know, some artists do curatorial work, but that is ultimately an incompatible activity the more you progress in your profession— you would eventually have to make a choice. Being an administrator, or an educator, is far more compatible, as you don’t are less likely to enter into the binary situations of exhibitions- either you are the one who gets exhibited or the one who curates the exhibition.

Then we come to the issue of perception. Even when you are perfectly clear about the balance and focus in your career(s), the art world (and particularly the New York art world) has a hard time seeing individuals as fulfilling more than one function. In some small countries and cities, where there art scenes are smaller, it is more common to fulfill several roles, but ultimately again one thing has to give way to the others. You may undermine  yourself when people see you doing many things at once— they either will assume that you are hopelessly scattered or that you are not serious about either one of the things you do.

On the upside, because professional demarcations are somewhat artificial, it will serve you well to have experience in other areas, and more and more you can see individuals who are able to translate their expertise in one area successfully into another. But again, you will need to choose what is it that you really want to do and make sure people know that is your objective.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

***

***

please write to the estheticist!

“You may ask any questions. I may not know the answer but I can certainly respond to them.”

John Cage at a lecture at the Art Institute of Chicago, March 1, 1992

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.

“Paralelamente al arte por el arte nacido del modernismo, la burocracia por la burocracia es la gran contribución humana a la hiper-modernidad. Sin embargo a diferencia del arte, que hoy se encuentra agotado, la burocracia continúa proli-ferando felizmente y expandiéndose en su paso inexorable. La burocracia es expresionista y abstracta a la vez de ser explícitamente social y política, características que difícilmente el arte más sofisticado de hoy es capaz de reunir.”

Hacia una estética de la burocracia es un libro de edición limitada creado para la trienal poligráfica de San Juan, Puerto Rico, y escrito precisamente a raíz de la experiencia burocrática de ese evento. El libro es un breve ensayo que examina las varias vertientes creativas de la burocracia latinoamericana, y la manera en que estas superan en muchos aspectos al arte contemporáneo que se realiza en esas mismas regiones. El libro contiene una serie de diagramas que ilustran la forma en que la burocracia funciona como un medio performativo y creativo  y propone estrategias para maximizar la enajenación producida por los burócratas para así emanciparse en la historia del arte.

Toward an aesthetic theory of Bureaucracy is a limited edition book originally conceived for the San Juan poligraphic Triennial, specifically inspired from the bureucratic experiences  resulting from that event. The book is a small manifesto-like essay which examines the various aspects of bureaucratic procedures as a creative process in latin america, and the ways in which they supersede in many ways, creatively and imaginatively, to the contemporary art produced there. The book has a number of diagrams which show the way in which bureaucracy can function as a performative tool and further proposes ways by which bureaucrats can become emancipated to take over art history. (book currently in Spanish only).

(fragmento del libro a continuación):

INTRODUCCION

Paralelamente al arte por el arte nacido del modernismo, la burocracia por la burocracia es la gran contribución humana a la hipermodernidad. Sin embargo a di-ferencia del arte, que hoy se encuentra ago-tado, la burocracia continúa proliferando felizmente y expandiéndose en su paso inexorable. La burocracia es expresionista y abstracta a la vez de ser explícitamente so-cial y política, características que difícilmente el arte más sofisticado de hoy es capaz de reunir.

Y sin embargo, esta práctica esencial de carácterísticas globales ha sido menos-preciada por los críticos y filósofos, y par-ticularmente por los teóricos postcolo-nialistas. Erróneamente ellos han visto a la burocracia como un defecto corrigible ex-clusivo del tercer mundo, un doblez cultural que no tiene por qué existir y que no vale la pena siquiera analizar, como una enfer-medad de la cual ya conocemos los síntomas y el remedio. Nunca se habla de la burocracia como la gran tradición histórica que es, como la monumental expresión cultural que nos define como pueblos y que nos otorga una sofisticación creativa a nivel colectivo que compite con las construcciones artísticas más complejas de la humanidad. Esta omisión por parte de los teóricos, sin duda premeditada, ha contribuído a que las regiones donde estas expresiones se manifiestan de manera más original y creativa hayan quedado al margen de la historia del arte. Y finalmente sus practicantes —los burócratas— han quedado injustamente olvidados, a pesar de su prolífica labor que en una sola vida puede generar decenas de millones de páginas de archivo.

Los filósofos ultra-contemporáneos cuyas obras están en boga hoy en día en los cursos de curaduría —Agamben y Rancière— utilizan respectivamente la noción de potencialidad y emancipación como princi-pios clave para construír un arte que trans-forme a la sociedad. Si bien ambos filósofos nos dan una perspectiva certera y brillante acerca de la raison d’etre y evolución de estos procesos, aquí trataremos humilde-mente de demostrar que no son los artistas contemporáneos, sino los burócratas, los que son capaces de encabezar esta transfor-mación revolucionaria de nuestra cultura.

Además de tratar de iniciar un discurso para establecer y reivindicar los principios estéticos de la burocracia, este pequeño libro busca también  inspirar al burócrata a revalorar su oficio a través de contemplarlo no ya como una condena a vivir sentado(a) en un escritorio, sino como un ejercicio de creatividad en el que cada día y cada acto burocrático pueda ser ejercido y apreciado como el profundo gesto artístico que en realidad es. Pero antes de conseguir esa meta es preciso borrar algunas pre-concepciones claves acerca de la buro-cracia y también de ayudarle al lector a entrar en contacto con su gen burocrático.

Si bien la burocracia no es desafortu-nadamente la cualidad exclusiva de los países en vias de desarrollo —se podría afirmar que países como Estados Unidos tienen ya sectores enteros que simulan perfectamente al tercer mundo—  es un hecho que los países de la periferia tienen las condiciones idóneas para desarrollar este medio de una forma que los vuelva epicentros de la cultura mundial y que ayude a atraer la atención a ellos de forma que ni siquiera el turismo, la etnografía, las bienales internacionales o el arte folklórico han conseguido hacer.

EN BUSCA DE NUESTRO BUROCRATA INTERNO

Hay quienes al leer esto se digan a sí mismos: “pero yo no soy burócrata”. Esta es una reacción perfectamente natural. Pero la realidad es que todos tenemos un coe-ficiente burocrático en nuestros adentros, si bien más desarrollado en unos que en otros. Todo latinoamericano, por ejemplo, tiene un pro-fundo conocimento y ex-periencia en carne propia de lo que es la burocracia. Se estima, por ejemplo, que cada latinoamericano en promedio, a lo largo de su vida, dedicará el equivalente de 7,401 horas llenando solicitudes, 1,245 horas llenando las formas equi-vocadas, 789 horas firmando recibos y 793 horas firmando contrarrecibos, 1,444 horas frente a la fotocopiadora, dos años y medio en el teléfono haciendo trámites y siete años haciendo cola o sentado en una sala de espera.  Esta clase de experiencia en sí constituye el equivalente, como mínimo, a tener un doctorado en el tema —pero no solo eso:  está bien documentado que mientras más expuesto esté uno a la burocracia, más propenso es uno a practicarla uno mismo, es decir, a ejercerla sobre los otros.

Desafortunadamente el oficio burocrático está tan desprestigiado dentro de nuestra sociedad que la mayoría de nosotros lo practicamos con desgana o simplemente lo ejercemos inconscientemente sin reconocer nuestro verdadero potencial burocrático. El gran filósofo y padre de la hermenéutica Hans-Georg Gadamer dijo una vez: “todos somos los otros y todos somos nosotros mismos”, lo cual se puede parafrasear así: “todos somos la burocracia y todos somos nuestro propio burócrata.”

Con el fin de desarrollar este potencial interno, es fundamental aceptar de nuestra identidad burocrática y demostar las mane-ras en que se puede desarrollar, redirigir y enfocar nuestro talento burocrático de forma creativa y conceptual para lograr una vida espiritualmente rica y trascender la opacidad de una carrera estrictamente oficinesca.  Posteriormente se demostrará que el burocratismo, bien ejercido, funciona como un arma de defensa, con un grado de efectividad similar al Jiujitsu. Sobra decir que un burócrata talentoso que desarrolle sus dotes artísticas logrará generar el máximo nivel de burocracia posible, el cual a su vez generará la necesidad de contratar a más burócratas para sostener el sistema. Y es así,  como se verá, que la burocracia practicada como arte puede ser un acto de activismo social inusitado y transformativo, emancipando al arte del actual yugo de extrema eficencia, raciocinio e individua-lismo que le otorga el mercado.

Fig. II. Ejemplo de un laberinto burocratizado con seis círculos viciosos y ocho sesiones de trámites donde (a) es el individuo burocratizado, (b) es el actor burocratizador, (c) el supervisor del trámite, y (s) la salida. La línea divisoria entre (a) y (b) indica una exitosa división de impersonalidad para complejizar el proceso, y que hay una sano aislamiento de comunicación entre los tres individuos, para garantizar la mayor demora posible en la resolución del trámite.

BREVISIMA HISTORIA DE LA BUROCRACIA EN LATINOAMERICA

¿Cuál es el origen de la burocracia latinoamericana? Sería difícil probar que las sociedades precolombinas eran burocráti-cas. A juzgar a través de las relaciones históricas sobre la sociedad Azteca, por ejemplo, las estructuras legales encabe-zadas por el líder o Tlatoani muestran toda evidencia de haber sido bastante organi-zadas, y si bien sus sistemas de orden social y político eran algo sangrientos, no se puede decir que no fueran eficientes.   La burocracia latinoamericana se puede re-montar  más directamente a la jerarquía administrativa de la colonia, tanto del virreinato como de la iglesia, por el sencillo factor que las verdaderas decisiones no se podían tomar sino hasta del otro lado del océano y podían transcurrir meses o años antes de que una decisión fuera tomada o un permiso aprobado (tradición que gene-ralmente aún predomina en las mejores burocracias).

Cuando latinoamérica entra a la moderni-dad, si se sigue el razonamiento de Max Weber en torno a la ética de trabajo pro-testante, lo que se preservó en cambio fue la ética católica de la contrarreforma, que en vez que mirar al futuro miraba al pasado y a continuar las tradiciones burocráticas a como diera lugar, en particular aquellas que generaban más burocracia (en la filosofía burocrática, la noción de sim-plificación es considerada como un aten-tado a la tradición). En el siglo veinte, en latinoamérica al igual que en el resto del mundo se confrontan las virtudes y defectos de dos modelos socioeconómicos: socialismo y capitalismo. Mientras que en otras re-giones del mundo se buscó implementar una combinación de ambos modelos que funcione de manera más eficiente —por ejemplo, fusionar socia-lización de servicios en algunos sectores con el libre mercado en otros— en latinoamérica se busca en cambio fusionar los aspectos más imprácticos de ambos sistemas, como optar por el entero aparato socialista gubernamental pero establecido de manera antidemocrática, privatizar el mercado pero a través de monopolios, y promover la mayor desi-gualdad social posible— todos estos ingre-dientes fundamentales para generar la perfecta burocracia. Dicho de otra manera, la historia de latinoamérica nunca se ha definido por la democracia ni siquiera por la plutocracia, sino por la burocracia.

Estoy tan lejos de ti
Y soy tan poco habil
Para salvar heroicos acantilados
Tanto de la vida como del amor,
Que no puedo alcanzarte.

Sólo sé que a veces
Te puedo tocar con palabras
Minúsculos hilos electronicos
Como las latas que servían de teléfono infantil
Y nos daban dificultosas, pero amenas, conversaciones
Con voces espaciales de metal,

Y me tengo que conformar
Con estos finos hilos de letras
Que por breves momentos te rozan
A horas extrañas de la noche
Horas extrañas como mis palabras,
Como mi presencia en tu vida,
A la mediatarde, o a la hora del yoga
Nunca sé cuando ni como,
Pero sé que te llegan
Y quizá los cuelgas en hilos como en un tendedero
Y a veces incluso te leo sonreir
Y a veces te siento quererme
Y yo sonrio y te amo y siento que hay algo,
Que algo de todo esto existe, después de todo,
Que es lo único que existe.

Solo nuestras líneas
Que no son sino fotones, juegos de luz, chispas silenciosas
Me llevan por las calles que caminas
Solo con ellas te sigo el rastro
En lo que te entreveras por el bosque de la ciudad.
Las migajas de pan electronico que me vas dejando
Como fiel sabueso miope que se guía por los olores
Sigo los charcos pequeños de tal o cual esquina
Que ocupan solo un Segundo de tu Mirada
Como el Rincon de aquel cuadro
O la ventana de tu cuarto y su jacaranda,
Que se vuelve violeta cuando pasa un colibrí,
Y todo aquello que es pequeño y olvidable,
Pero que lo constituye todo,
Y me lo haces ver, y en esos momentos
Todo me parece que ha sido hecho
Para vivirlo solo contigo.

Pero los hilos son frágiles,
Y se rompen a veces
Y uno queda Huerfano, atemorizado,
Suspendido en el aire sin paracaidas,
Aeronauta sentimental
Hombre de hojalata sin sentido.

Cómo quisiera que tuviéramos más que letras.
Cómo quisiera que tus palabras fueran formas, actos,
Que cada vocal fuera mas que ese aire
Que ni siquiera puedo respirar.
Quiero traerte hacia mí,
Pero no tengo nada más de momento que tus líneas,

Luego comprendo que en el mundo real no existen las líneas
Ni trigonometrías a base de electrodos,
Ni regla dorada que explique tu consciencia nocturna,
Las palabras solas no dan lineas rectas entre dos puntos,
Ni la ley de gravedad es responsible de mi gravedad,
Ni los teléfonos de lata existen ya.

Nada existe, en realidad, en este momento,
Sino tú, sin duda, en algún lugar,
Pero pensando seguramente en otra cosa,
Y yo, con mi gran angustia,
De algun dia ya no encontrarte
Del otro lado
De este fragil hilo
De letras.

La entrañable transparencia

(Extravíos artísticos por La Habana)

Aquí todo parecía otra cosa, creándose un mundo de apariencias
que ocultaba la realidad, poniendo muchas verdades en entredicho.

Alejo Carpentier, Los pasos perdidos

The past is like a foreign country: they do things differently there.

LP Hartley, The Go-Between

Para Marta

En “La invención de Morel” (1940) de Adolfo Bioy Casares —una de las grandes novelas latinoamericanas del siglo veinte — un prófugo llega nadando a una isla buscando refugio. En ella, descubre la presencia de un grupo de personas en una sección de la isla y, temeroso de ser descubierto, comienza a espiar de lejos sus actividades, sus fiestas, sus conversaciones y reuniones. Después de algunos días, sin embargo, comienza a observar que las acciones y diálogos de los personajes son los mismos y que de hecho, estos se repiten de forma idéntica cada semana. Finalmente, descubre que aquellas personas no estan ahí en realidad, sino que son proyecciones tridimensionales que toman lugar en los mismos lugares. La proyección eterna en “loop”, sale de un misterioso museo localizado en el centro de la isla. Todo resulta ser un sofisticado proyecto de un cierto doctor Morel, quien ha ideado el proyecto de retener para siempre en aquella isla un fragmento de la vida de un grupo de sus amigos, una repetición de sus actividades proyectado eternamente como un paraíso privado por las maquinarias cinematográficas que están diseñadas para operar por los siglos de los siglos. En una explicación de su proyecto a sus amigos, Morel habla de su selección de la isla como el lugar idóneo para la creación de esta utopía:

“he tomado algunas precauciones —físicas, morales— para su defensa: creo que la protegerán. Aquí estaremos eternamente (…) repitiendo consecutivamente los momentos de la semana y sin poder salir nunca de la consciencia que tuvimos en cada uno de ellos, porque así nos tomaron los aparatos; esto nos permitirá sentirnos siempre en una vida nueva, porque no habrá otros recuerdos en cada momento de la proyección que los habidos en el correspondiente de la grabación y porque el futuro, muchas veces dejado atrás, mantendrá siempre sus atributos”.

**

Llego por primera vez a La Habana en medio de la preparación de los eventos de su octava bienal de arte, el evento internacional que este año se realiza con muchos menos recursos que costumbre y con un boicot de parte del mundo del arte en respuesta a la encarcelación de los intelectuales disidentes ordenada por Castro a principios de este año. Aún así, llegan turistas de todas partes del mundo, caminando por las calles a ver arte y a gastar dólares —sin duda la motivación principal del estado para promover una bienal como ésta. El turista cultural es un animal raro, siempre ansioso de adquirir experiencias exóticas, pero generalmente con poca imaginación y sentido de aventura. Cuba es una destinación ideal, pues ofrece riqueza cultural, clima caribeño, y sobretodo un irresistible atractivo como fruta prohibida turística. La gran mayoría de los turistas se quedan en hoteles y se limitan a visitar las sedes establecidas de la bienal, las zonas restauradas del casco colonial, y otras atracciones como la casa donde Hemingway pasó sus últimos días, así como La Bodeguita del medio o el Floridita, los bares que el escritor frecuentaba ( Hemingway ya es desde hace tiempo una figura incorporada al folclor local, bien aprovechada por la industria turística cubana).
Ese tipo de itinerario turístico no es mi caso, pues me quedo con una familia y termino estableciendo lazos con cubanos cuyas vidas cotidianas por lo general están escondidas de los visitantes. La tía Hilda, por ejemplo, me da lecciones de economía doméstica. Me muestra, para que lo vea con mis propios, su libreta de racionamiento, y me dice: “vas a ver, voy y vengo a la tienda para que veas para lo que sirve”. Regresando de la tienda, efectivamente me muestra, quejumbrosa, su ración mensual: cinco libras de arroz, una libra de frijol, una pequeña botella de aceite, azúcar, café, y seis huevos. La tía Hilda recibe 90 pesos cubanos como pensión, que equivale a cuatro dólares. Los productos que se venden en las tiendas de divisa (en dólares) tienen prácticamente el mismo costo que en los Estados Unidos. Los cubanos que no reciben remesas de Miami o no tienen otra entrada fuera de la de sus trabajos oficiales, tienen que ahorrar años de sus vidas para poder comprar algo así como una televisión: Los costos de las cosas, y el bajo nivel de adquisición de la moneda, es un tema constante en la vida de los cubanos. Los restaurantes cobran cantidades que son relativamente comparables a un restaurant en otras partes de latinoamérica, pero que para un cubano son exorbitantes — una comida en un restaurant turístico para un cubano cuesta aproximadamente lo que para un turista equivaldría a $1500 dólares. No es de sorprenderse por ello que los cubanos busquen maneras clandestinas de obtener dólares. Ese es el caso del cubano que me lleva al aeropuerto, a quien contrato en la calle tiene un Buick amarillo 1955, prestado, que “renta” por $150 dólares al mes (nominalmente, él gana $10 dólares al mes). En lo que me lleva al aeropuerto, se asegura que recuerde que su esposa se llama Vivian, que nos conocimos en Houston por cuestiones de trabajo, que soy amigo de ellos. Tenemos que repasar la historia por si la policía nos detiene y nos interroga para averiguar si efectivamente lo estoy contratando extraoficialmente.

Una noche, a las tres de la mañana, me encuentro caminando sólo por las calles de centro Habana, y después de un tiempo me doy cuenta que estoy extraviado. En mi errante recorrido, me llama la atención que las lámparas de los interiores casi siempre sean fluorescentes, dándole a la ciudad y a la gente una iluminación verduzca y mortecina. En eso, una mulata de nombre Maria Mercedes, se me acerca diciendo que es su cumpleaños y que sus amigos nunca la vinieron a encontrar para festejarla. “¿no me acompañas? Me siento sola”. He visto a estas alturas ya varias situaciones en que muchas mujeres cubanas están dispuestas a servir de “escorts” para los turistas americanos aunque sea por unos cuantos tragos. A punto de decir que no, reflexiono por un momento sobre mi condición de extravío y le propongo que la acompaño si me encamina a la dirección donde me estoy quedando. En lo que caminamos por las casas derruídas y paredes descarapeladas en medio de uno de los frecuentes apagones de la ciudad y prácticamente en total oscuridad, pasamos por el malecón y vemos a las parejas de enamorados sentados en las bardas de concreto, mirando al mar. El mar y el cielo, sin embargo, son casi completamente negros. Maria Mercedes mientras tanto me cuenta su vida, y yo le cuento la mía. Con los cubanos siempre se puede hablar de amor, de relaciones, de la vida en general, como si la apertura emocional fuera una válvula de escape para contrarrestar todo aquello sobre lo que no está permitido hablar con libertad.
Me despido de Maria Mercedes dándole una cantidad de dinero como regalo, para que se compre lo que quiera. “¿No quieres que nos tomemos un mojito?”, me pregunta. “No, gracias, -contesto yo- tengo que ir a dormir”. Entrando a mi casa, no puedo dejar de pensar en los enamorados. ¿Qué miraban? ¿Un horizonte que no se ve? Miraban, acaso, su deseo de ver un horizonte.

*

La Habana es quizá el lugar más distante del siglo veintiuno. Es la capital del pasado, pero no en términos de atraso o progreso, sino en términos de inercia temporal. La Habana desafía, rotundamente, la noción de que el tiempo global es colectivo; propone, más que ningún otro lugar, la idea bergsoniana que el tiempo es una dimensión vivencial. De forma casi estereotípicamente latinoamericana, esta ciudad cuestiona la noción lineal del tiempo: ¿estamos hablando de un pasado sin evolución, de un presente congelado pero presente al fin , de una extensión del pasado hacia el futuro? Nada es claro, como nada parece ser claro en La Habana en términos de realidad. Después de todo, ¿De cuántas realidades estamos hablando? La ciudad rinde cuenta de la mezcla de los tiempos, pero en su caso lo hace de una forma explícita que no se puede experimentar en ningún otro lugar. Hay definitivamente un elemento onírico en La Habana; para algunos puede ser un sueño, para otros una pesadilla. La extrañeza de la situación política, histórica, cultural, de Cuba inevitablemente genera situaciones igual de anómalas y diversas que me generan la sensación de existir dentro de una novela en constante autoescritura: cada incidente es material literario (¿Proust o Kafka?), así como cada imagen espontánea es una imagen fotográfica.

En la calle Obispo hay un hotel llamado “Ambos Mundos”. El nombre, me pareció, es la perfecta metáfora del hecho de que por lo menos, existen dos Habanas: una, la de los turistas, la construída cuidadosamente como un Matrix virtual que cumple el fin de satisfacer sus fantasías de exotismo y culpabilidad imperialista, y que para el estado funge como entrada principal de recursos económicos. Luego está la Habana real, que nutre su economía ficticia a través de la presencia del dólar. Sobrevivir en Cuba es un milagro, y de formas inexplicables esta sobrevivencia se consigue gracias a la prodigiosa creatividad de sus habitantes por una forma de vida que, legal o no ante los ojos del estado, los mantenga a flote. Las dos realidades coexisten de formas profundamente contradictorias y a veces incoherentes, generando una lógica local que parece ser una combinación de las leyes que el estado hace y deshace cuando le conviene, y la forma en que los cubanos se van acomodando en relación a ellas. Como en The Matrix, la vida de Cuba gira en torno al hecho de que hay una realidad convencional y otra, la verdadera, que no conocemos, pero que esta presente y se va manifestando en lo que se desquebraja la ficción del sistema. La realidad “oficial” del turista es la Cuba exótica y pintoresca, donde el pueblo se convierte en un elemento más de la vitrina museográfica de la Habana vieja. La realidad “oficial” del cubano es la igualdad social otorgada por la revolución, y la noción, prácticamente inadmisible ya, que es posible subsistir con el sistema económico del país.

Las dos frases citadas al principio de este artículo fueron escritas el mismo año, 1952. Fue en ese año cuando Fulgencio Batista realizó su segundo —y definitivo— golpe de estado en Cuba, y cuando un joven abogado llamado Fidel Castro presentó una denuncia ante el Alto Tribunal de Cuba por violación de la Constitución, exigiendo el restablecimiento de las garantías constitucionales. En 1952 también comienza la planeación del frustrado asalto al cuartel Moncada, que da inicio a la revolución cubana, y el eventual ascenso de Fidel al poder. La obtusa relación con el tiempo y la realidad a la que aluden tanto Carpentier como Hartley en sus respectivas frases —refiriéndose a otras cosas, por supuesto— no dejan de hacerme reflexionar que en Cuba comenzó a operarse desde esa época una relación con el tiempo y el espacio social que hoy en día es tan entreverada que para el visitante externo es casi incomprensible. Cuba es un lugar donde siempre parecen haber ambivalencias temporales, económicas, de veracidad, de interpretación.

Si bien Cuba es en muchos aspectos un enigma, lo que es indudable es que el destino de la isla —como lo es en el caso de la isla imaginaria del doctor Morel, o si se quiere, en la del Doctor Moreau de H.G. Wells— sigue determinado por la figura definitoria de Fidel. La presencia de Fidel en la vida del país se incrementa con el hecho de que en Cuba prácticamente no hay anuncios comerciales, sino en cambio vallas y letreros que contienen frases del comandante en jefe y lemas de la revolución. La televisión, fuente inagotable de propaganda revolucionaria, muestra cosas antes el discurso de Fidel en Jamaica, o un documental infinito sobre el viaje de Fidel al Congo, que los eventos primordiales a nivel internacional. Esto, añadido a la ausencia de cualquier tipo de periódicos o revistas internacionales, y con el uso restringido del internet, fácilmente hace que cualquiera pierda contacto con el mundo exterior, y que la voz de Fidel se imponga como la última palabra en prácticamente cualquier tema de relevancia internacional.

En contraste con su cierre casi total a la comunicación con el exterior, el gobierno hace toda clase de gestos para demostrar hay una voluntad de armonía y apertura internacional, y la bienal se convierte en un foro para demostrarlo. El “concierto de la bienal por la paz”, que está anunciado en el parque John Lennon, y se nos invita como artistas, es el evento oficial principal de la bienal. A la entrada del parque, vemos los mercedes negros que supuestamente Honecker le regaló a Fidel en los ochenta. La seguridad es por lo general más estricta que en otros eventos oficiales, y sin embargo nos sorprende encontrarnos a unos metros de Fidel, quien está sentado en primera fila, sin demasiada protección, entre el público, escuchando a Silvio Rodríguez cantar. Las cámaras —que parecen ser cámaras de televisión rusa de los sesenta—muestran constantemente la enorme imagen aprobatoria de Fidel, quien a sus setenta y siete años y su eterno traje militar, proyecta una solidez envidiable.

Muchos cubanos lo defienden incondicionalmente. Estando de visita en una casa familiar en Alamar, un suburbio proletario de La Habana, donde viven dos amigos, José y Ana, vemos en la televisión un documental aparentemente eterno con imágenes incansables de la sierra maestra, el Ché con Fidel, Camilo Cienfuegos, la voz del Ché dando un discurso (las únicas dos ocasiones que ví la televisión apareció en la pantalla el mismo documental). Viendo las imágenes, José me cuenta acerca del período especial (después de la caída de la Unión Soviética) cuando la comida era tan escasa que conseguir carne era un lujo, miles de cubanos fueron enviados a los campos a sembrar, y dada la carencia de jabón la ropa se lavaba con sebo y potasio. Y sin embargo, para José estos son limitantes necesarios para justificar un país igualitario donde todos reciben educación y atención médica gratuita. Es claro, en este contexto, que el embargo estadounidense, que afecta cruelmente a la población, no hace sino fortalecer al régimen de Castro y convertir a Estados Unidos en el chivo expiatorio de las penurias del país.

Le pregunto entonces a José, quien vive en ese departamento pequeño con su esposa y apenas gana lo suficiente para sobrevivir, acerca de lo que pasará cuando muera Fidel. “Nada, esto va a continuar, Pablo. El pueblo apoya el sistema. Yo luché por esta revolución, y yo te puedo decir que este es el mejor país del mundo.”

**

Fiel a la ambivalencia cubana, los artistas que estamos en Cuba para participar en la bienal de la Habana también parecemos insertados en una incómoda función dual: infiltrar nuevas ideas a la isla, pero también ayudar al estado a mostrar que en este país hay una apertura al arte internacional. ¿Somos instrumentos de un régimen, o podemos funcionar como catalizadores para la reflexión? Creo que estamos conscientes de nuestra doble función y dispuestos a desafiarla —ya sea con mayor o menor éxito. Hablar de la problemática política es el desafío que enfrentan también, y con mucho mayor riesgo, los artistas cubanos, que en general han desarrollado una sofisticada forma de sugerir las cosas sin tener que pronunciarlas — una habilidad artística caída en desuso en los lugares donde la libertad de expresión nos da tanto espacio para hablar que no sabemos usarlo. Un artista cubano, Wilfredo Prieto, creó una obra para la bienal titulada “apolítico”, consistente en una serie de banderas de los paises del mundo hechas en blancos, negros y grises. La primera impresión, que es la de estar viendo una película a blanco y negro (¿la documentacion de las olimpiadas de Berlín de Leni Riefenstal?), suele seguir de una reflexión acerca de el papel de las naciones y la política en un evento cultural de dimensiones internacionales. El arte cubano parece operar constantemente en un delicado balance entre la denuncia arriesgada y la lectura oficial. Ese es el caso de la obra de Tania Bruguera, quizá la artista más influyente actualmente en Cuba, cuya instalación en el museo de bellas artes trató de ser neutralizada por una lectura inocua por parte de la curaduría oficialista, pero cuyo efecto se mantiene intacto: un escenario vacío donde se oyen estruendosamente los gritos de las consignas revolucionarias. Como en las mejores obras de cualquier período, el poder de la obra radica no en lo que de dice sino en lo que se calla.

La mejor obra de la bienal de la Habana, a mi ver, no era precisamente una obra, sino una proyección que uno de los organizadores decidió colocar a la entrada del pabellón Cuba (uno de los sitios de la bienal). La película era una serie de ‘newsreels’ de propaganda cubanos de principios de los anos sesenta —poco después del triunfo de la revolución—, donde se anunciaban las nuevas escuelas de arte, la arquitectura moderna, el progreso inequívoco de la industria, la educación y el bienestar familiar en el entonces nuevo orden socialista. Tanto para los cubanos como para los extranjeros era suficiente ver el cortometraje para ver de inmediato los enormes contrastes entre lo que era la visión utópica de la renovación social que traería la revolución y lo en lo que esto vino eventualmente a ser.

El doble bloqueo cubano—económico por el exterior, de la información por parte del gobierno cubano— genera de nuevo la sensación que a los cubanos se les tiene sitiados constantemente con proyecciones de fantasmas, proyecciones del pasado encima del presente, lo que genera la a veces increíble incongruencia de aspectos de la vida cotidiana. Los eternos documentales televisados de la revolución cubana, la parálisis del país en un mundo con automóviles de los años cincuenta y edificios art deco que vieron su mejor época hace medio siglo, me hace pensar en la macabra idea utópica de Morel de retener un paraíso terrenal en una isla a fuerza de cerrarla al mundo y al tiempo. Las imágenes virtuales proyectadas y controladas por una maquinaria invisible para el visitante de la isla, equivalen al cierre de una sociedad al exterior como lo hizo Japón por siglos.

Pero el sistema de proyecciones no sólo transcurre en el interior, sino tambien ante los turistas culturales que visitan La Habana. La clase de proyecciones fabricadas, y sobretodo las que pude presenciar durante mi estancia en la bienal de la Habana- son de una Cuba pintoresca, con población en apariencia pobre pero felizmente solidaria, que muestran al turista su riqueza espiritual y cultural: el síndrome Buena Vista Social Club. Sabemos de dónde son los cantantes. ¿pero de dónde son los fantasmas? ¿Serán de la Habana?

===

En un restaurant semivacío de la Habana vieja, un guitarrista se nos acerca y comienza a tocar “dos gardenias para tí”. Después de varios otros números, y conforme su presentación va alcanzando su climax, finalmente comienza a cantar la canción del Ché. Es una canción que muchos padecen al oirla, pero que yo, turista primigenio, no he oído en años, y que súbitamente me recuerda a mi infancia en los setenta, en las épocas en que se la oíamos cantar a Oscar Chávez en México y a los cantantes de la nueva trova:

Aquí se queda la clara
La entrañable transparencia
De tu querida presencia,
Comandante Ché Guevara

Otro cubano, que he notado que nos ha estado mirando desde la barra, y por lo visto ha percibido mi conmoción, se acerca y me regala una moneda de tres pesos cubanos, que lleva la efigie del Ché, y su lema hasta la victoria siempre. En esos momentos, me vienen las lágrimas a los ojos, sin entender bien por qué. Comienzo a reflexionar que el dilema que tenemos la mayoría de los latinoamericanos con Cuba es que, aparte de las injusticias del régimen, el deterioro de este país es lo que nos queda del intento de independencia de la hegemonía norteamericana, el último residuo de lo que en algún momento fue el deseo de una América latina independiente y poderosa como la soñaron Martí y Bolívar y Vasconcelos, el vivo recordatorio del gran fracaso de nuestro proyecto independiente de modernidad panamericana. Estas calles derruídas, estas antiguas mansiones y vestigios coloniales representan en su parálisis histórica algo que después de todo nos identifica con los cubanos, y que quizá no queremos reconocer. Para muchos cubanos, a pesar de todos los sacrificios y la exasperación por un sistema imposible de vida, persiste el natural deseo fundamental de saber que aquellos sacrificios no fueron en vano, que a fin de cuentas la noción de la revolución cubana tuvo un significado y que sus sacrificios encuentran la redención en ese significado. Quizá por eso para algunos nos cuesta tanto trabajo descartar la tragedia cubana como el simple resultado de la dictadura de Castro. Cuba ha simbolizado para muchos como el gran experimento de independencia y autonomía, aquello que latinoamérica algun día aspiró a ser, oponiéndose a las directivas económicas de norteamérica.

Cuba también es simbólico y significativo por el hecho que que su experimento, llevado a cabo a cuestas del sufrimiento del pueblo cubano, el cual es bombardeado diariamente por las proyecciones fantasmagóricas del régimen, no es tan distinto de cualquier otro sistema. Cuba nos ayuda a hacer, en distinta proporción, ciertas preguntas en relación a cualquier régimen político. Si bien en Cuba el sistema de propaganda manipula a la población, ¿no es acaso cierto de la propaganda del gobierno de Bush, su manipulación de la temática terrorista para beneficio de su agenda militar, corporativa y petrolera? Mientras que en Cuba la autocensura es el modus operandi principal de la población, en Estados Unidos es la promoción de la histeria colectiva, el temor de perder nuestro poder adquisitivo y nuestros privilegios de clase, y la capitalización sobre una indiferencia política a fuerza de nuestra adicción al mundo del entretenimiento y no al de las ideas.

Pero es difícil de mantener el romanticismo por la revolución cuando vemos como todo desenboca, tarde o temprano, en la vieja ambición capitalista. Esto lo veo en el hotel Cohiba, donde un amigo mío se está quedando. Encuentro un hotel de lujo kitsch, con pisos de mármol, mampostería con rojos y dorados, lámparas caras de mal gusto ( y donde a los cubanos les está prohibida la entrada, como en casi todos los hoteles en Cuba). En el restaurant hay un buffet con salmón, jamones, todo tipo de platillos y variedades de pan, algo inasequible en cualquier tienda de la Habana. Lo que me despierta de mi romanticismo es el oír de nuevo la canción del Ché, esta vez cantada por un trío romántico estilo Los Panchos, que se encuentra alrededor de la mesa de una señora americana que los oye con gusto (y seguramente, sin entender la letra). Pocas cosas me parecen más paradójicas que aquella escena. Me pregunto qué diría Carlos Puebla, el autor, de esta versión de su canción, siendo edulcorada y domesticada como un escenario turístico más. Pienso luego cómo incluso el mito de la revolución es un producto vendible en Cuba. La nostalgia por el mito del Ché, y la fantasía turística de vivir una simulación del inocuo sueño revolucionario, no le pasa desapercibida al estado, y esto se traduce en un sinfín de productos que se ofrecen para todos aquellos que tengan dólares (el artista americano Alejandro Díaz comprendió —y ejemplificó— perfectamente este hecho al realizar una obra para la bienal consistente en una bolsa que decía “I Love Cuba”). No es muy distinto de las ventas de gorras, broches, y otras reliquias comunistas que hoy proliferan en Berlín del este. Sin embargo, es particularmente irónico que el negocio de la nostalgia revolucionaria se erija encima de las ruinas de un país donde para muchos cubanos la idea de la revolución sigue siendo la base fundamental de sus creencias, sus aspiraciones, y sus esperanzas.

**
Hemingway —a quien convendría releer tanto dentro como fuera de Cuba— famosamente cita a John Donne al principio de “por quien doblan las campanas” en que “ningún hombre es una isla” (no man is an iland/intire of it itself/ every man is a peece of the continent…). Yo me pregunto qué tanto como individuos, ya sea fuera o dentro de Cuba, seguimos operando como Morel y su película eterna, o aquella película de propaganda revolucionaria de los sesenta: nuestras proyecciones aisladas de lo que queremos ver en cada cosa sin mayor autoconsciencia de lo que nos conecta con la realidad. A riesgo de caer en otra clase de romanticismo, pero por no caer en el nihilismo, creo que no queda sino pensar que aun debe de haber alguna forma —acaso el arte, u otra cosa— que nos pueda ayudar a reencontrar el valor original de aquellas transparencias entrañables de las utopías puras, y lo que las originó en su primer lugar, que si bien no me equivoco tenía que ver más con nuestro bienestar colectivo que con nuestra salvación personal. ***

Nueva York, noviembre, 2003

La Jornada Newspaper, Mexico City, July 13, 2003

The Primer congreso de purificación cultural urbana de la ciudad de México (First Congress of Urban Purification of Mexico City) was a collaborative project by Ilana Boltvinik and Pablo Helguera made in response to the increasingly conservative climate of government-run cultural policy—or lack thereof— in Mexico.  The project took form of an actual conference in the Hotel de la Ciudad de Mexico in downtown Mexico City in May of 2003.  The project was never advertised as an art project but as a real conference with a call of papers that insidiously claimed that “culture, like the environment, is polluted”, and invited submissions as to how to “purify” it. Many submissions were received from as far as Colombia,  and 6 were selected for the conference, while 6 others were written as scripts and read by actors, unbeknownst to the audience. The 6 “scripted” submissions were in a sense a response to the 6 “real” submissions, formulating statements or points of view that are rarely expressed in academic or public forums.  The following two scripted papers here include the one read by the Mexican curator Marco Barrera Bassols,  calling for the complete elimination of national arts funding —arguing that most of that funding goes to support a bureaucratic apparatus and too little to actual art making. At the time, Rudolf Giuliani had been hired by the Mexico City government to be a security advisor.  The  paper read by performance artist Ryan Hill, who was introduced as director of a pro-Giuliani organization, proposed a US-run cultural policy program for Mexico inspired in Giuliani’s own conservative view of culture (not to long ago Giuliani, while New York City mayor, had sought to take away funding from the Brooklyn Museum for the display of Chris Ofili’s painting).
This last paper generated a media blitz and outrage over the notion of an US-led cultural policy, published by the papers La Jornada, Reforma, Universal, Milenio and others, which in turn led to a public debate on cultural policy as originally intended.

–

(exerpt from the performace script:
Ryan Hill’s paper)

Thank you for coming today to this event. As assistant director of the department of cultural services  and assigned representative of the Rudolph Giuliani Commission for this congress, I would like to start my presentation by speaking about our current positions and our projects related to our improvement of the cultural life of Mexico City. After that, I will get into th specifics of our cultural program, known as PROLICU.

As you may or may not know,  the Commission is an independent, not-for profit, organism of philantropic nature, which focuses its energies in solving the current problems experienced in Mexico City in what culture is concerned. The Culture Department, which was created at the beginning of 2002, with the intention to increment the range of action of the Commission, is based on the same theorical principles, that is to say, to “condemt and do everything that could be done to abolish all and every one of the abuses towards life and humanity”, followed by various accords such as “ bringing  to light and clean all the physically hazardous practices to mental health, and preserving such cleanliness”. Of course, it is of utmost importance to consider cultural practices as part of mental health.

From its very beginnings, the members of the commission have made an uninterupted stand against the brutal treatments and criminal practices and abuses against social  and cultural human hygiene, following as its main principle the emphasis of moral renovation implemented by Rudolf W. Giuliani as major of the City of New York. The Commission has become a really effective force in the promotion of changes in this area.

Our program known as PROLICU is dedicated to the research and identification of any violations to cultural hygiene, both in the psychiatric and physical sense. Although it is a relatively young organization, it has already accomplished a profound cultural study with the help of many national and international experts in order to present, in the most complete way possible, the action plan that we plan to follow to implement the cultural cleaning of this city.

I will now describe the Program of Cultural Cleanup (PROLICU) in its first stages and Characteristics.

Program of Cultural Purification (PROLICU)

The international program for the cultural purification of Mexico City, better known as PROLICU, was launched in 2002 by the Commission. The project, carefully developed with the objective of completely reforming the life of Mexico City through a thorough cultural cleanup, consists in a series of key steps that need yet to be implemented.

First  Phase: Case Study and Cultural Evaluation
The general comission of PROLICU, composed by those members of the government who may consider themselves  knowledgeable in the field of arts, will carefully analize the cultural program of each one of the city’s museums, houses of culture, universities, schools, galleries, and activity centers open to the public, identifying where they can, those instances in which the activities may be considered immoral — which is not the case of every institution, although it is estimated that 78% of cultural centers in Mexico City have such condition to some extent and need of profound renovation in this aspect.

Second Phase: Cleanup and Renovation
All the directors, curators, museum administrators, and employees of government-run galleries, cultural centers and community centers whose cultural discipline and challenge to authority will be immediately dismissed, without any previous notification.

Third Phase: Reprogramming, Regulation, and Quotas

After the selection of the new group of directors from all cultural spaces in Mexico, a new Organization will be announced, known as the Comission of Morality and Public Decency (CoMoDePu), a principal organ of PROLICU,  which will be in charge of supervising all the cultural entities in Mexico City, ranging from public dependencies to private ones, with the objective to approve any artistic proyect on the basis of its civic decency. Every exhibition project, concert, publication, or expression that shall be transmitted to a public larger than 8 people should be presented  to the authorities of the CoMoDePu and meet the following requirements:
1)    To promote a positive image of Mexico City;
2)    Completely lack any reference to sexual acts or attack to morality,
3)    Not use bad words,
4)    Not utter the name of God or Mexico in vain, nor in a profane way under any circumstance;
5)    Not use foreign words unless to announce commercial products; local indigenous languages also excepted

Those cultural producers and/or administrators who would participate in works supposedly of an “artistic” nature that would not follow the previous rules, will be immediately subject to fines and quotas of up to $10,000.00 U.S. dlls. Additionally, any other work that would be considered to make reference, either directly or metaphorically, to any slanderous  attack of political, social, religious or economic nature will be confiscated and examined by the CoMoDePu until deemed appropriate or not for public viewing. Exempted from this rule are all the artists and creators who may have received lifelong scholarships by CONACULTA.

Fourth Phase: Education and Progress
The Commission will simultaneously establish a renovation program in the artistic curriculum  in Mexico City schools, in collaboration with the Ministry of Education.
In this program, ellaborated by experts, the lacks in the current educational system will be addressed and there will be special classes given for the training of future artists.

Fifth Phase: Unforseen Changes
The Commission will take on the task of replacing any directive whenever necessary, without making any explanations for the reasons of his or her dismissal. Possible reasons for such dismissal may include:

1)    Expressing aesthetic points of view which may differ from the preestablished guidelines for the artistic advancement of the city,
2)    Unnanounced activities,
3)    Collaborations with international institutions that are not sanctioned  by the government.

Sixth Phase: Social function of Museums  and Others
The commission will establish a special calendar of availability of all the cultural centers in the city, wether public or private. Under the instructions of CONACULTA, these spaces will make their locations available to realize, in strict order of priority:
1)    government-related and official events,
2)    official exhibitions and events organized by CONACULTA,
3)    exhibitions, lectures, and events by government-approved artists.

These few steps, which are only the first ones to accomplish a true renovation of the management of culture in Mexico City, will no doubt bring an immediate benefit to all the audiences and the people who appreciate art in the city, and will also provide a more efficient mechanism for the development of the cultural program in the city. ****