Paul D. Miller on Wed, 1 Oct 2003 06:36:29 +0200 (CEST) |
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<nettime> Of Men and Monuments |
well.. this is a piece done for 21C - we're just in the final phases of setting it up as a quarterly, and julian Laverdiere is one of the people who designed the cover for the new issue. He was, along with Paul Myoda, and also one of the principal folks involved with designing up the "Towers of Light/Tribute in Light" Memorial for the World Trade Center victims. Like Maya Lin's 1982 Vietnam Veterans Memorial - the "Towers..." sought to commemorate a dilemma of American culture - a dilemma usually implies a situation that requires a choice between options that are or seem equally unfavorable or mutually exclusive. One monument was about permanence and the American aspiration to monumentalism. The other, made of light, was about transparency and impermanence. Light and text - permanence and impermanence - these are issues that info culture faces - in the tradition of Virilio, this is certainly no Albert Speers with lights intimating a 1000 Year Reich, but then again, hey... under the Bush Admin. maybe it could be.... after all, Leni Riefenstahl was a pretty good film maker too... this is art that asks - imperial time aspires to be universal, but how are we to think about the forms that represent the idea of empire? Anyway... read on.... here's the essay. you can check the rest at www.21cmagazine.com pax, Paul Of Men and Monuments, Vessels and Vectors... Julian Laverdiere 's Art of Uncertainty: "Goliath Concussed" at the Lehmann Maupin Gallery NYC by Paul D. Miller a.k.a. Dj Spooky that Subliminal Kid "in architecture form is a noun, in industry form is a verb" R. Buckminster Fuller In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone, Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws The only shadow that the Desert knows. "I am great Ozymandias," saith the stone, "The King of kings: this mighty city shows The wonders of my hand." The city's gone! Naught but the leg remaining to disclose The sight of that forgotten Babylon. We wonder, and some hunter may express Wonder like ours, when through the wilderness Where London stood, holding the wolf in chase, He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess What wonderful, but unrecorded, race Once dwelt in that annihilated place. Horace Smith, "Ozymandias" 1817 Horace Smith composed this sonnet on 27 December 1817, during an evening sonnet-writing session with P.B. Shelley, but the echo, the sense of quotation of content and context is what I want to evoke with this piece. Think again: Rhetorical bodies, matter and memory, teleplex tautologies, suture and synedoche... codes and modes... like I always enjoy saying: it all just flows. It's been a long time since 1869 when the U.S., as an aspiring regional super-power, laid the first trans-continental telegraph and railroad lines throughout the newly reconsolidated polity that the Civil War had given birth to. It was an ambitious project, but like all American endeavors of size it had a small beginning. During the month of May 1869, in the middle of Utah, and at a place very few of us would ever check out, a silver spike hammered into the a railroad track that was almost finished completed a continent wide circuit in the newly linked transcontinental rails. The spike set off a electronic trigger pulse that was supposed to celebrate the occasion: a current moved through the newly connected and then infantile networks linking the East and West, and spread throughout the rail and telegraph lines like some newly remade disembodied Paul Revere howling through the wires. In New York and in San Francisco two cannons - one facing the Atlantic and the other, the Pacific Ocean - fired a shot triggered by the phantasmal pulse sent from the joining of the railroads in the middle of America, making the newly ambitious U.S.'s sense of Manifest Destiny telephonically clear to the rest of the world - from the heart of the country a silver spike closed the circuit on reality as our ancestors knew it. The rest, as it's always said, is another story. Ah, the logic of history. Like the poem that I begin this essay with, its something that at first glance evokes a series of historical allusions, and then one realizes the legerdemain - it's not Percy Shelley's, but an echo, a remix, a quote within a quote. One could argue that that's the sense of uncertainty of origin that Laverdiere strives to convey with his work. The above mentioned event is true but hovers someplace in my imagination at a point mid-way between Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, with dashes of Thomas Pynchon's "Gravity's Rainbow" thrown in for good measure. That's what Julian Laverdiere's work is like: it puts a spin on a commonplace situation and for better or worse creates a place where fiction and reality, like everything else these days, seem to be completely meshed with one another. In "Forbidden Aspirations for Ascendancy," Laverdiere's first solo show at Gallery Andrew Kreps back in 2000, one entered a room where two capsules sat on funerary trestles, and another work - a hyper-meticulously rendered model of a rusted safe - sat spinning in an almost holographic video projection several feet off the floor. In another section of the show a couch made of material normally used for NASA's space programs invites a hypgnagogic reverie of the rusted safe spinning on the wall. It was all about inducing a kind of hypnotic, mesmeric, fictional, mode of contemplating the installation. The soundtrack made by Wolfgang Voigt (a techno-minimalist composer who works under the name "GAS" for a german avant-garde label named Mille Plateuax - that's based on the philosophies of Deleuze and Guattari) was set in a minimalist drone of techno -pulse like beats, a kind of repetition that reminded me of the timelessness that you feel in a nightclub - that sense of the "prolonged present" completes the installations sense of suspended time. The two major pieces of the show, "First Attempted Trans Atlantic Telegraph Cable Crossing" and "First Attempted Manned Space Flight" pointed to two major failures at the edge of two eras of the information age. Both pieces were rendered as kind of optical sarcophagi, each one a puzzle piece in a mental map made of loosely tied fictions and near-real hypothetical situations. What better way to look at today's information saturated world where no one is exactly sure of events and the news about them? The 1854 cable venture of Cyrus WW. Field , a would be media mogul in the mold of a prototypical Bill Gates of the early industrial age, and the mid-WWII German rocket scientist Werner Von Braun, have little in common except their sense of being rendered into historic vector motifs - they inspired other people on to carry their ideas to much greater heights than either of them attained, and it's that sense of engagement human frailty in the face of technology's omnivourous gaze that Laverdiere evokes with an uncanny sense of hyper-realism. The capsules contain exquisitely rendered models of the failed projects, rendered exactly to scale, and the optical quality of the plastic encasing them gives the objects an almost holographic quality - Laverdiere has worked on film shoots and video shoots for several years, and the experience gained in rendering reality into a video shoot has paid off handsomely. Indeed with the exquisite detailed attention paid to every aspect of the show - the capsules, the digitally rendered hyper-realistic photos of the ficitional events that he's encapsulated - Laverdiere can say, as so many of us feel in these heady days of hyper-modernity, like the main character of H.G. Well's 1894 classic "The Triumph of The Taxidermist" who creates new hyrbid creatures from the bones and skins of extinct animals for kicks so he can convince people he's found new species: "But all this is merely imitating Nature." In the story the Taxidermist then points to his models in a shop filled with artificial creatures that he created for media spectacle - "I have done more than that in my time. I have - beaten her...." I have to admit: the precedents for this kind of work in the conventional artworld - Racheal Whiteread's fascination with making everyday life into a funereal reality, or a larger scale artist Micheal Heizer's project "City" - a huge simulated metropolis made of monumental mastabas and other regalia that we normally associate with Necropoli and the other effects of the wealthy or elite aspects of cultures world wide, Chris Burden's minature model cities, Gregory Greene's exact replica's of weapons and satellite communications systems, or even more cogently relevant, Constant's fascination with his "New Babylon" worldwide city of architecture and dispersion - have with Laverdiere's show been rendered into their scientific counterparts. This is the impulse of contemporary society's deep fascination with archival reality - what I like to call the "museum impulse"- and it makes its way into the installation via the route of the "rusted safe" encapsulated and then made into a video image projected spinning aimlessly on the wall. But before the musuem, before the collections of the contemporary artworld, there was the tradition of the wunderkammer or "wonder cabinet" that focused on a mode of display that was deliberately eccentric, and expressive of the personality and history of its creator. The first wunderkammer is believed to have appeared in Vienna around 1550 and the tradition grew and evolved for about one hundred years until its function was taken over by conventional museums. Where Laverdiere makes reality a transparent parenthetical statement about desire and expansion, other artists - for example, Rachel Whiteread's sense of space encapsulated like a concrete shell, or Mariko Mori's "Time Capsule" - a sarcophagous inverted and made transparent - contain a strange sense of trying to outrun death and impermanence. The museum impulse is the congruent - it ties everything down to its last impression, and acts as it assigns. Let's face it: it's a fixed place in the history of objects. Laverdiere points us in another direction. Just as his casket-like investigations of near historic events hover on the edge of reality point out, in his work, everything is up for grabs, everything is remixable. This is something people have started noticing on-line as well - omnipresence doesn't imply omniscience - in fact it usually creates a muddled sense of what's going on in the "real" world. This is the central metaphor "Forbidden Aspirations For Ascendancy" points to - Icarus and Daedulus - think of faded outlines and shimmering optical indeterminancy, and you'll get the picture, but the idea is there: the memory of an event and it's transposition into a living museum time shard is what creates the artistic tension in the installation. Again, a poem: Ozymandias I met a traveller from an antique land, Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown And wrinkled hp and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read, Which yet survive stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; .And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my works. Ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. Percy Shelley 1818 . I'll end with a metaphor about permanence and impermanence: when he was asked to come up with an idea for the New York Time's recent efforts to freeze time in a media sphere of, of course, a time capsule, media artist Jaron Lanier came up with a novel idea: he felt that genetically encoding the information into cock-roaches would ensure the information's retrival 1000 years from now. The Times felt that they needed the obvious statement: a capsule. One is forced to wonder which will be around longer.... We always want the obvious ways to encode and preserve time, when it may not be the best route to take. Like the soma-tropic statue come to life in Fritz Lang's "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," we're left with a sense of extreme indetemincany in the cultural landscape: a nine foot model of a ship-wreck that can still be found at the bottom of some of the harshest areas of the Northern Atlantic, a rusted safe put onto a solaris-like optical pedestal, and a hauntingly rendered model of a shattered space craft that could have existed, and that was created from the V-2 rocket notes of a Nazi aerospace scientist who was brought over to the U.S. to aid in our space program.... sometimes I think of this century's sense of trying to capture time - think, for example, of Duchamp's famous "Nude Descending a staircase" and it's critique of Edweaerd Muybridge's stop motion rendering of a woman walking nude down a staircase... when we examine every last item holding our perceptions together we're left, like the techno soundtrack that backs the installation silently marooned in the repetition of the present, left wondering if one action or another would have produced some radically different situations and moments. Laverdiere in his own way, cleverly critiques this. Who knows... perhaps a rendition of the shells that announced the first transcontitnental land networks is in the works. All I can say, is given Laverdiere's historical breadth and craftsmanship, I wouldn't be surprised. This was an excellent first show. He tells us, like the New York Time's project (I'm not attacking the project, by the way, I think it's a good idea) that will probably decay with time, some things are best forgotten. The more recent "Goliath Concussed" shows the evolution of an artist concerned with todays images of empires, and like Horace Smith's Ozymandias remix, we're asked again to think about "What wonderful, but unrecorded, race Once dwelt in that annihilated place." # distributed via <nettime>: no commercial use without permission # <nettime> is a moderated mailing list for net criticism, # collaborative text filtering and cultural politics of the nets # more info: majordomo@bbs.thing.net and "info nettime-l" in the msg body # archive: http://www.nettime.org contact: nettime@bbs.thing.net