FESTIVAL BREAK 2.4: POTEMKIN VILLAGE

NOTES ON ART, SPEECH, AND PUBLIC ACTION

a symposium project 5-18 November 2007

“My life in art”, a hopeless piece of literature found on the ea market not so long ago. No publisher, it was just a type

written document of 798 pages, yellowed by the years. It cost one Euro – which made it superuous my hesitation inspoiling money in such things. To the point now: “My life in art” narrates the ups and downs (more downs than ups) of the artist Alexander de Koshko-Weiss, from his childhood to his renunciation of art. You can google the name, you willnd nothing for (no need of a little bird to tell you that) it is only a penname.I will spare you the rst 352 pages (how, at the age of 6, young Alexander had a revelation in front of a painting of Rembrandt, his suffering in the art academy as his art was despised by the other students and his teachers, his martyr

dom as miserable, unknown genius, etc) to arrive to the passage that is of some interest for us.We’re in 1966. Far away there in the People’s Republic of China, the Cultural Revolution is raging. Our Alexander, who,if he is rather an untalented painter (as prove the few drawings that sprinkle “My life in art”), is nonetheless a remark

able debater, goes to a meeting organized by his fellow students. The scene starts when Alexander suddenly wakes up(apparently, he did not stand the three hours of various speeches and lectures given by the others) as a certain Jan,the little Red Book in his right hand, is discoursing on the role of art in society.

“I opened my eyes only to nd this unpleasant vision, the blond and puffy Jan, hysterically grasping his preciousneo-Bible, the little Red Book, and ordering the others to shut up. He screamed: “The purpose of our meeting today…(interruptions), the purpose of our meeting today is precisely to ensure that literature and art t well into the revolu

tionary machine as a component part. They must operate as powerful weapons for uniting and educating the peopleand for attacking and destroying the enemy. They must help the people ght that enemy with one heart and mind”.People burst in applauses. “We, artists, must destroy the institution from within the institution! (Trotskyist! shouted somebody) and guide the masses in their struggle against the imperialist domination…” That was enough! I could not bear this shit. I stood up and yelled at him: “You, intellectual of my ass, do you know what Chairman Mao does with people like you?!” I couldn’t go any further, hands seized me and I was thrown out of the room… “Capitalist traitor!” and “Fascist swine!” have been the last words I’ve ever heard at the art academy”.

I confess: I have some sympathy for Alexander de Koshko-Weiss. Not only because of his scepticism when it comesto the revolutionary role of art within society. Not only because he assumed his, at that time, not-too-welcome posi

tions. In fact, my empathy also stems from a personal identication with his inability to stand a few hours of lecturesin a row. Let’s be honest: does it never happen to you? Confronted with this one who carefully reads, line after line,his twenty-page text, this other one who regales your eyes with a minimalist power-point presentation of two images,that other one who happily indulges in a 75 minute lecture while all the surrounding stomachs are tragically rumbling…What did you do then? Did you listen? Did you dream of something else? Did you stand up and say: ‘Ok, guy, cut thecrap’? Did you promise to yourself that never ever again you would attend any other boring symposium?

Now, let’s confess something: we have a problem here. In the frame of our festival, we have decided to organize asymposium. Does it mean that we too will fall in this trap of boredom? Can we even entertain the idea to avoid it?And – oh, terrifying prospect – what if boredom was only the least problematic of all the issues related to symposium-making? You see, we don’t lie. We spare you nothing of our doubts and questions in this difcult process.At some point, the situation improved. One day, we arrived at the ofce, a smile on our face (the same smile that haddeserted our lips since we had been stricken by the pre-symposium depression). Was it possible? Had we eventuallyfound some tricky solution to defuse these practical and conceptual mines that paved our curatorial way? Had we dis

covered a magic design in which our symposium would embody, in its form and content, our issue of “artistic Potem

kin village” – and at the same time (two birds with one stone) could offer a certain entertainment? Oh, the bad word!Ok, ok, let’s say fun, or pleasure instead. Yes. Alas, our satisfaction didn’t last. The symposium issue was denitelybooby-trapped. The more delimited artistic areas we trespassed while working it out, the more conceptual devices

exploded loudly.

Take this one for instance. For weeks, we have had a recurring nightmare. We are in a beautiful, huge auditorium.On the speakers’ table, a little army of coffee cups, sugar bags, skim milk packs, and delicious cookies is ready forinspection. The video projector is softly spurring. It looks perfect. As nobody has arrived yet (it’s normal, we all knowthat people are always late), we decide to wait fteen minutes more before starting. Half an hour passes. One hour.Still, we’re ten: three speakers, and the festival’s team.Because it’s the risk – we all know it. It stems rst from the overbid of art lectures, workshops, symposia, colloquia,conferences that are organized (worldwide, there is one taking place every seven minutes, accordingly to the latestresearch of the Ofce of Social Criticism, Benedict Anderson University, USA). How can we compete? Why should beour symposium more attractive for the public than other? By the way, which public? Who would be tempted by discus

sions lled with esoteric references – object petit a, différance, deterritorialization (try to say it ten times quickly at astretch) – private jokes, and intellectual gossip.If the main question is that of the relation – better said the mediation – between the “artistic Potemkin village” and “reality”, which kind of interfaces do we have in mind? That such question suddenly surfaces is not a surprise. First,it is inherent in the almost organic process called “elaboration of a festival”, when one day matters such as venues,promotion, or sponsorship force you to dene the public you’re addressing – a public whose sight you might have lostas you were driven by organizational dynamics. Here is the turning point: you realize that, so far, you have conceivedsomething that looks probably ne to and for your professional milieu, but whose impact on the city and its inhabit

ants could very well be rather marginal. Like the outdoor installations or performances, the symposium crystallizesuncertainties. Should it concern only your art fellows? How to extend the audience? What is the meaning of such an

nexation move?As well, it is clear that questioning the way we communicate with each other and with the public increasingly drawsattention in the art milieu. We attend more and more experiments, from the parody of justice to the “return to roots” that revives the original idea of the symposium, drinking party and moment of conviviality. Are we so bored by ourown discourses that we need all kinds of amusements? Have we talked so much that we are now struck by the incan

tatory, useless aspect of this kind of meetings? Are we trying to renew, or simply to re-adjust, our means and ends of expression?

Notes on art, speech, and public action: a symposium project

poses a general question (what is speech?) ina specic realm – art. It proposes to investigate this special form of communication, its rules, structure, and objec

tives. It is a reection on the place from where we speak, how we speak, to whom we speak. In which spaces does artspeech originate, develop, resonate, belie, dissent, or transgress?Based on the idea of movement from one stage/staging to another, and of displacement, “Notes on art, speech, andpublic action: a symposium project” refers to and borrows from other forms of speech, from performance to demon

stration, from theatre to propaganda.Planned during the festival, the project is made up of three experiments:

1 MY LIFE IN ART

(which has three parts) - November 10, 2007

- The Soviet Kitchen

- I’m in a demonstration- I’m writing an applications

2 GUERRILLA GIGS

(ongoing)

3 WHERE ARE THE MASSES FOR ART?

(ongoing)

Each part focuses on one setup/context and what it implies for communication, testing the limits of

the lecturer, the public, and speech itself.

1 MY LIFE IN ART

“Down with the lecture!”… No reading. No power-point presentation. No video projector. No laptop. The era of themoderator is over. The time of the commentator who tries to be even more brilliant than the lecturer is history. Wedecide to opt for straight talks and conversations. Perform the lecture! No big deal. Nobody asks you to behave as anactor. We just dene circumstances under which the talk can become uncontrollable, due to the physical setting or thebehaviour of the public. It’s in your hands now.We have dened three moments that not only seem recurrent in the life of any person involved in art making, but alsoprove archetypal of the “artistic Potemkin village”.

The Soviet Kitchen

You know the story. In the seventies of last century, Russian people used to hold in the kitchen their discussions onthe current political situation. The kitchen was the only private space, far from unwelcome ears, able to contain afew people. Nowadays, life is happier. Life is more beautiful. Any institution will invite you to spit on the institution,to imagine the best way to destroy it. You’re paid to be subversive. You can even become the director of a subversivefestival (they generally include in their title something with tactical, strategy, radical, guerrilla, resistance… apparently,we have inherited from the idea of avant-garde this military-oriented vocabulary) that is subsided by the government.You discard the suspicion of recuperation with a contemptuous gesture. You’re above it, because you know. In fact,you even think that by using the institution to pursue your own goal, you thwart this clumsy recuperation trap. Pooryou! Naïve you! These guys have always been more rened than you ever thought. But what should you do then?Should you hide in your basement and do underground things to maintain certain honesty?So, what about getting back to the old good time? What is really subversive should not escape the four walls of thekitchen after all!Setup: the outside world is cold and hostile. But we don’t care. We’re all packed in the kitchen (some coffee is on there) and we indulge in criticizing whatever. It’s so nice to be one of the happy few.

Hey, Look at me.. I’am in a demonstration!

So, you’ve debated plenty of subversive ideas. What a satisfac

tion. Unfortunately, the next step is rather difcult: now, yougo public. All busy with your own dream that art has an impactin society, that it has a role to play, that it will make the differ

ence, you hardly notice that nobody gives a shit. An amazingartwork in the public space… and only the usual small crowd of fellow artists, curators, and museum directors marvels – that’sthe sad reality. You will say: is it that important? After all, now

adays, thanks to PR and other internet means, “public sphere” tends to get new meanings. The sole reference to the intentionof doing art in the public space is enough. Oh, of course, you’veread Laclau, and Mouffe, and Habermas… and you got prettygood ideas as to what should be done. The problem: appar

ently, your pretty good ideas don’t seem to be shared by yourtarget, the public.