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Yinka Shonibare MBE
How to Blow Up Two Heads at Once, 2006, installation, courtesy: Sindika Dokolo African collection
of contemporary art
de la Giardini, în drumul cætre Arsenale, indiferent dacæ acesta era un disclaimer al
curatorului însuøi sau o intervenflie artisticæ anonimæ: „The Biennale has no position
on conflict and no part in it. R. S.“ [Bienala nu are nicio poziflie asupra conflictului
øi nicio participare în acesta. R. S.]. Concepînd o expoziflie foarte esteticæ øi declarînd
cæ nu urmæreøte sæ realizeze un show politic, færæ a putea însæ evita lucræri sociale
øi politice care sînt relevante astæzi, alegerile lui Robert Storr au reflectat totuøi o
preferinflæ claræ pentru un punct de vedere care în orice caz nu a fost o lipsæ de poziflie,
ci o poziflie univocæ øi dezangajatæ.
Una dintre lucrærile pe care le-a inclus a fost o serie de desene dezvoltatæ pe un perete
întreg în Arsenale de Emily Prince, o artistæ de 26 de ani care studiazæ încæ pentru
masterul în arte la UC Berkeley. Lucrarea era intitulatæ American Servicemen and
Women Who Have Died in Iraq and Afghanistan (But Not Including the Wounded, Nor
the Iraqis nor the Afghanis) [Soldafli americani care au murit în Irak øi Afganistan (dar
neincluzîndu-i pe cei rænifli, nici pe irakieni, nici pe afgani)] øi prezenta cîteva mii de
portrete de soldafli americani, însoflite de fragmente de informaflii despre ei, pe care
artista le-a realizat dupæ imagini gæsite pe internet, folosind nuanfle diferite de hîrtie,
în funcflie de culoarea pielii soldaflilor, øi le-a aranjat pe o hartæ aproximativæ a
The case of the African pavilion maybe bests represents Storr’s
approach towards this biennial, and which was resumed on the banner
placed outside the Giardini, on the route to the Arsenale, no
matter if this was a disclaimer of the curator himself or a critical and
anonymous artistic intervention: “The Biennale has no position on
conflict and no part in it. R. S.” By setting up a very aesthetic show,
and saying he was not aiming for making a political show, but that
he cannot avoid social and political works which are relevant today,
Robert Storr’s choices reflected however a clear preference for
a point of view which was in any case not a lack of position but a
one-sided and disengaged position.
One of the works he included was a series of drawings developed on
an entire wall in the Arsenale by Emily Prince, a 26-years old MFA
student at UC Berkeley. The work was entitled American Servicemen
and Women Who Have Died in Iraq and Afghanistan (But Not Including
the Wounded, Nor the Iraqis nor the Afghanis) and presented
thousands of portraits of American soldiers with some information
on each one of them, which the artist realized after images found on
the internet and arranged on an approximate map of the US, according
to their place of origin. Her response to legitimate questions such
as Why not also the wounded, or the Iraqis, or the Afghanis? Why do
we need to have detailed information about the American soldiers
when of the dead Iraqis (soldiers and civilians) we don’t even know
the number, let alone the faces, skin tone or hometown?, would be
that she’s an American and this is the material she’s allowed to work
with. It’s a very convenient way to discard any criticism, and if one
cannot ask from a very young artist who has passed from making
drawings of her personal objects to mapping war’s casualties,
to have a nuanced position on the ethical implications of her work
(and if her gesture resembles that of the soldiers’ mothers who are
praising their children’s virtues and heroism but do not question the
reasons for their participating in the war), one cannot have the same
indulgence towards the cosmopolitan curator Robert Storr. His celebrities
line-up in the Italia pavilion with Sigmar Polke, Martin Kippenberger,
Gerhard Richter, Ellsworth Kelly, Bruce Nauman, Robert
Ryman, Sol LeWitt can be understood as a result of his commitment
to artists he has worked with in his long museum career; the title
of his biennial, Think with the Senses, Feel with a Mind, is symbolically
a tautology but one doesn’t need to bother about this, as usually
the title of a biennial is there just for convenience; however, when it
comes to his conception on the role of art in the world as reconciling
the perceptual with the conceptual and giving an aesthetic and
decontextualized shape to political conflict, as reflected in many
of the works in the Arsenale selection, the curator presents us with
a mild, risk-safe show.
Briefly, political means for Robert Storr a sort of exquisite lament
– death, ruins, skulls, skeletons, guns, soldiers, memorials and monuments
are following one’s walk through the biennial, punctuating a
journey which is meant for contemplation, and which is meant to take
the visitor to a territory of calm resignation. The calm is in Neil
Hamon’s photographs of military scenes and soldiers’ postures from
different wars (from the American civil war to the World War II or
Vietnam), re-enacted by members of the Living History society in a
sort of adult game which is mimicking history books rather than reinterpreting
them. Or in the contemporary views of former sites of conflict
in Beirut, Sarajevo or South Korea, taken by Tomoko Yoneda,
a Japanese artist living in London. Peaceful is also the play of a boy
with a rubber skull-ball on the derelict site of the former Army headquarters
in Belgrade, in a video made in 2007 by Italian artist Paolo
Canevari. The memento mori continues with the large video projections
of people saying “I will die” in front of Yang Zhenzhong’s camera.
Or with the precious embroidery of Angelo Filomeno, a baroque
parable showing two skeletons, of a philosopher and a woman, flying
over a cityscape lighted in the night. If one is unable to endure so
much war and death, one can rejoice on a mattress under the
Dionysian installation of late Jason Rhoades, reading the neon words
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