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| A Slippery Path or a Hazardous Tribute to Humanism Alise Tīfentāle "Backlight" 7th International Photographic Triennial in Tampere, Finland: the exhibitions "Untouchable Things", 15 October 2005 - 15 January 2006; "Spells of Childhood", 15 October 2005 - 29 January 2006. | |
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The German curator living in Finland Ulrich Hass-Pursiainen and the international team of curators invited by him have chosen artists and works for this Tampere Photo Triennial in accordance with the programmatic titles "Untouchable Things" (at the Museum Centre Vapriikki) and "Spells of Childhood" (at Tampere Art Museum). The themes in themselves indicate an element of provocation, warning that they will deal with things more conveniently and properly left unsaid. Like those modern parents who cast aside their own upbringing and struggle with their ineptitude, seeking honest answers to their school-beginners' questions about war, sex and politics while watching the evening news, the curators of "Backlight" strive to tell us a story, through the artists' works, about childhood dramas and pleasures, teenage sexuality, ageing, memories, fears and dreams, distance and closeness, seeing and not seeing, touching and the proscription against touching, about the blessing and curse of this obligation to "be human".
Very human and cosy is the mood common to these two exhibitions: although it may go unnoticed at the first instant, very many works focus on the family, on virtual and real homes, and on close and rationally inexplicable ties between people, so that we come to sense that this is all that still holds our world together just that little bit. Even when the image shows the opposite: cruelty, poverty, neglect and coldness, the story is still about love or the need for love. And that's why I mention humanism in the title. It will be about the love of one's nearest. Not always is this love expressed in noble gestures that can be captured on film. It lives and survives through misunderstandings, mistakes and delusions, through denial, through humiliation or the sense of power; it is not always obvious, honest, fair and right. These are the cases that "Backlight" deals with. The trends and themes had already been advanced by the curators themselves in choosing the works and writing the titles of the exhibitions. So the viewer need only become acquainted with the artists. Some of them delighted me, and some annoyed me - and these are the ones I'll be dealing with. After all, we tend to forget those that leave us indifferent, don't we? This is one of those pitiless laws of life that the two "Backlight" photo exhibitions talk about. Becoming acquainted Nicolai Howalt (Denmark) has documented boys before and after a boxing match, in dispassionate portrait photo style. These images must be seen as a group: not the bruised nose or scarlet cheeks, but the process itself is the sign. We'll never find out, and indeed it's not important, whether the portraited boy won or lost. Rather, it's a matter of change, initiation, experience, in a sense it's about a child becoming a man, about entering a new level of interaction and responsibility. The utilisation of found photos in one's art has now become an established trend, and Alexander Honory (Germany) has discovered unbelievable pictures in some family photo archives: a series of photographs showing children just after confirmation as legitimate members of Catholic society. A curious element is the photo wallpaper of the Pope in the background. Moving. Bernard Faucon (France) works in that same grandiose field of ideas in which the Canadian Jeff Wall has earned worldwide acclaim. Faucon's colourful and vivid images do present something mighty and exhilarating, and at the same time hazardously perverse: the main heroes are little boys, often semi-naked, together with manikins of such boys. However, the cinematographic scope, the finely worked compositions and the painful emotional undertone indicate that Faucon's work should be respected and valued like the films of Visconti, for example, instead of putting them down to some neurosis. The work of Friedl Kubelka (Austria) also gives rise to admiration along with fear (or rather, respect): she has photographed her daughter every Monday from her birth to the age of 18. The result is more than 900 pictures, which, taken together, form a "portrait" of Louise Anna Kubelka, tracing her growth and development, changes and changing attitudes towards the camera. It is a thrilling acquaintance, not with Louise Anna or Friedl in particular, but with the mother-daughter relationship, with all that remains of our lives: it's not a matter of the house that was built or the loan repaid on time, but rather about our image in the consciousness of those people who love us. This work also gave rise to a major discussion of the genre of portrait as such: a person cannot be "captured" or depicted in one picture or a thousand - what the portrait offers the viewer is only an illusion, a visual resemblance. In the end, one can reach the logical conclusion (often forgotten) that a person is something more than the visible being, and this is exactly what the major project of Friedl Kubelka tells us. Moreover, interpretation of this work is perhaps aided by the fact that the artist is not only a photographer, but also a psychoanalyst. The series of portraits by Ana Casas Broda (Mexico) tells a similar story about women's relationships in the family: here, the artist herself and her grandmother have posed nude. This is work I'm not inclined to interpret, comment or analyse: it can really only be read with the heart. The photo series "Growing up" by Wilma Hurskainen (Finland), a young artist (born in 1979) can also be viewed emotionally. Wilma has found childhood photos where she's posing together with her parents, grandparents and three sisters, on outings, at celebrations and at home, and, ten years later, she has repeated these same "situations": the same people in the same places, even dressed as they were in the old pictures. These photos, seemingly simple and even didactic, do nevertheless contain something sincere and unrepeatable. It's possible to trace how the daughters have outgrown their mother and father, how the sister who was shortest as a child has grown to be the tallest, how parents age, and how movingly empty is the place on the sofa where grandfather sat ten years ago. How the setting, too, has changed: where the four sisters had their photo taken at the zoo by the elephants' enclosure, there are no longer any elephants, just bushes. These photographs create a sunny and somewhat nostalgic feel. After all, who wouldn't like to "return" to the places of their childhood, but this isn't possible. In childhood, the girls' expressions are real and true, but "now", although an attempt has been made to put on similar expressions, they are, nevertheless, consciously pretended, unnatural and tense: it's evident that one's upbringing causes not only a person's consciousness, but also their facial muscles to lose their spontaneity and naturalness even when acting a part. It's no wonder that the best Hollywood actors are paid millions for their capacity to act "naturally". The work "Private sphere" by Iranian artist Sissi Farassat, living in Austria, was an adorable little surprise: small, lit boxes with intimate portraits. However, the light switches off if the viewer approaches too close, which is paradoxical, since the portraits photographed in semi-darkness can really only be seen close up. It's the same as the way we all observe a polite distance from one another, no matter how close our relationship. In the series "Verena, 18", the Austrian maste H. H. Capor introduces the viewer to a very private sphere, showing a girl's youth and beauty in a real-life situation: after a serious operation that leaves scars for a lifetime. In this context of humanity, love and the search for love, the case of Magdalena Frey (Austria) is a special one: her activities symbolise the victory of contemporary political correctness in Europe, since she's not an artist at all (either by training or by vocation), but rather a post-feminist activist or something like that. Her project "Girls cut" has, to my mind, no connection at all with art, no matter how we might understand the word. Magdalena has heard somewhere that there are communities in certain Islamic countries that practice female circumcision (the medical term for this operation and other details can be looked up by visiting the author's website: www.ma-frey.com), and has resolved to protest against this traditional practice. For some strange reason she's chosen to protest by participating in various art projects and exhibiting collages of her pictures, combined rather ineptly using Photoshop, the main emphasis being on bloodied flesh. One can only marvel at her fanaticism, her absolute incompetence in the visual field and the willingness of certain timid curators in Europe to display something like this. (If the work's not shown, then Magdalena will raise a clamour about discrimination or something like that.) Another two facts: the author is a nurse by training, and during the two years since she's been engaged in her protest, she hasn't been able to locate a single woman who's actually experienced this operation. But that's no barrier to protest. Continuing the theme of medicine, another surprising new acquaintance was Lia Lapithi (Cyprus) - an artist from a family of doctors, who has employed medicine-related motifs in her major, serious works in an unusual way, in order to address essential matters: death and the possibility of death, physical suffering, family ties, that which is present and which is lost. In her large-scale, technically refined installations and videos, Lia Lapithi utilises medical equipment and specially ordered adaptations of such equipment, as well as film footage of operations, etc. The photos by Joakim Eneroth (Sweden) are minimalistic, but stimulating of contemplation: an almost unchanging series of pictures showing the ocean one day after the tsunami in Thailand, with the title "Waiting". Highly aesthetic and at the same time profoundly human are the portraits of Alzheimer's disease patients by Peter Granser (Germany). The arrival on the scene of two light-hearted Germans, Jens Sundheim and Bernhard Reuss, makes a pleasant change from these existential questions. In the "Traveller" project, Jens travels not from city to city, but from web camera to web camera: people across the world have positioned web cameras, publishing the material they've filmed live on the internet. (We have them in Riga, too, for example at the "Noass" gallery: see www.noass.lv). The artists first locate these cameras, then calculate approximately where they have to stand in order to get in the picture and then Jens sets out. Meanwhile, Bernhard sits at his computer and waits for him to appear in the internet page of the camera. If necessary, last-minute instructions are given over the mobile phone, and hey presto! Berhard saves the image and Jens continues on his travels. In this way, they've assembled a motley collection of photos testifying to human enthusiasm that borders on the insane, and this applies not only to Jens and Bernhard, but in many cases even more so to the owners of the web cameras, placed in the middle of a huge meadow, for example, by the garage, at the edge of a highway and in suchlike middle-of-nowhere locations. (Web cameras are mainly used to promote a long-term event on the internet, showing how popular it is, or to create an impression of lively activity in a particular town). The project can be seen at www.der-reisende.org. Amid all the rest, it's interesting to note that Lithuania is represented at this international photographic triennial by three artists, who are certainly known in Latvia: Vytautas Stanionis senior and Vytautas Stanionis junior, as well as an artist with a tragic life story, Diana Cikanavičienė (1974-2004). The international team of curators of "Backlight" also includes Mindaugas Kavaliauskas, whom we know from the Kaunas Photo Days. In regarding this exhibition, I became convinced that Latvia, too, certainly has several artists whose work would have excellently augmented the exhibitions at this triennial. Perhaps there are reasons unknown to me why artists from Latvia are disinclined to participate in international exhibitions. "I want to be St Sebastian!" Like something from a completely different world is the photo series "Fourteen holy helpers" by David Trullo (Spain), an unusual and introverted dialogue between the artist and his Catholic upbringing and milieu. As a result, we have 14 portraits of Catholic saints, the prototypes for which are very familiar from Western European art history: these are the most popular images in churches, the patron saints that the faithful most often turn to for help. And here they are: David shows the saints in all their splendour, beauty and the bloom of youth, in modern dress and stylish interiors, and indeed, why not imagine them in this guise? The tradition of depicting Old and New Testament figures in the dress and interiors current at the time and place of the depiction was popular already in the Middle Ages. In order that the saints might be distinguished one from another, they are traditionally shown each with his or her own accessories - generally symbolising either the manner of the particular martyr's death (St Catherine and the torture wheel), or else their activities in life (mainly relating to the miracles they worked, for example, St George is traditionally shown fighting the dragon, etc.). "I want to be St Sebastian!" is the title of one of David Trullo's videos. Other projects of his also relate to ambiguous symbols, for example the photo series "Trullo Perfumes", advertising imagined perfumes, including one called "Sodomy for Men." And so forth (the works can be viewed at www.davidtrullo.com). He works in a visual code that might be described as belonging to pop culture: many young, beautiful people in provocative poses. If they are dressed, then their dress is expensive and stylish. But there is something more to it. The artist, whose father was once a bullring photo reporter, said in private conversation: - I hate snapshots! It's pretence, there's nothing natural, even though it's created with the idea that it should look that way. If the model is consciously posing, then that's OK, then something that isn't right can stay, something unexpected can be left. Neither do I object if the model doesn't know how to pose. I like it when a picture includes something true as well as complete lies. As regards the saints: I want to portrait the saint, but I don't want him to look like a saint. Anyone can be a saint - or rather, why is he in particular a saint? There's an idea stemming from the traditions of sacred art, which is an almost compulsory element of depictions of the saints: they're always looking upwards. Maybe they're talking to God, but maybe they themselves are asking for help? I'm talking only about symbols. - But why about religious symbols in particular, rather than politics or pop music, for example? - Because all symbols come from religion. For example, St Sebastian: the gay movement in the 20th century chose him as their symbol, and many use it without knowing the origin of this symbol. But the archetypical basis for it is this: St Sebastian was a beautiful, young man, and also a soldier... Thus, symbols travel, preserving something of their meaning, but often used in entirely opposed contexts, and this is what interests me. Art is my religion and therapy. I'm not religious, I'm interested in images: I want to understand how you can make someone believe in an image. I want to know what creates the power of an image, I want to challenge and provoke with my images! Under the sign of Lolita: a story about permitted and forbidden touching Touch is one of the basic elements of human perception. Using our sense of touch, we determine what is "pleasant" and what isn't, we seek caresses and avoid beatings. A touch is both a threat and a promise of happiness. We wish to touch our loved ones, but strive to avoid physical contact with something frightening, alien, "dirty" or in some other way "forbidden". In the context of the Tampere Photographic Triennial, the curators were engaged in discussing precisely that which either cannot be touched or is not allowed to be touched. As it turned out, from this perspective, the concept of childhood is also one that cannot be touched. We do not remember our childhood: we think it up or imagine it. Looking at our childhood photos, we fantasise, rather than remember, because in the process of growing up, so much has changed that "remembering" would not be the most appropriate term. Accordingly, the adult also views other children as being in some sense non-human or super-human, without perceiving in the image of the child a resemblance to themselves. Such an alienated perception can give rise to curiosity, fear, respect, anger, etc. - the most diverse emotions, the origins of which might probably be explained by a pastor or a psychoanalyst. Many have used artistic means to look at this polysemic adult view of the child, but the creators of the Tampere Triennial have chosen as their leitmotifs Lewis Carroll, August Sander and Vladimir Nabokov. The case of Sander is a separate story in its own right (I know that Inese Zandere is undertaking a serious study of him, so I don't wish to engage in generalisations here), but the spirit of Nabokov's Lolita and Carroll's Alice most certainly was floating above the heads of the exhibition-goers at the Tampere Photographic Triennial. The clever books about the adventures of Alice when she went Through the Looking-glass and into Wonderland, seemingly intended for children, written by Professor of Mathematics and Logic Lewis Carroll, have been popular right from the time they were written, in the 19th century, but less well known is the other passion of this talented individual: photography. Those in the know will smirk at his predilection for photographing semi-naked and naked prepubescent girls in various thematic arrangements. (Although Carroll did it all with the permission and support of the girls' parents, after his death, relatives destroyed most of the nude pictures.) However, this pursuit, although a sublimation, has nevertheless become a vivid sign of the times and the subject of study by many researchers of literature and art, who are wont to seek practically all the mythology of the world in these small photographs. In the end, the idea of the child-bride is a motif in the most ancient myths and legends, it is part of the praxis of life in the past and at the present day (although no longer in Europe), and it is a vivid image in 20th century popular culture: all supermodels from Twiggy onwards represent the image of an immature, androgynous juvenile, who has not yet become a woman - a nymphet. This touches on the theme of initiation, of a child becoming a woman, and the eternal question of the relationship between a man as the "father" and a woman as the "daughter", as well as hundreds of other nuances, capable of being revealed in the context of a wide range of research fields such as cultural semiotics and even in the theory of visual art. Nabokov's novel "Lolita" looks at the same myth. The desires and fantasies of the main protagonist, Humbert Humbert, are unnatural and irrational - as are all erotic fantasies (such as the sign of the culture of our times: the manga animations from Japan, often centring on little, innocent, lovable girls with eyes wide open in surprise, who are deflowered in various fantastic ways. It is telling that the aesthetics of manga have, already since the mid-90s, also infiltrated the praxis of contemporary art). Accordingly, the sense of discomfort connected with the issue that Nabokov brings up is entirely natural: it presents an incongruity between what's happening in the depths of the human psyche and what's officially permitted and logically intelligible. After all, childhood is synonymous with an innocent heart, and the child is a polysemic symbol in Christian culture: the "Christ Child" and the words of Jesus ("unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the Kingdom of Heaven", Mt.18:3). At the same time, the generalisation "childhood" retains its ambiguity: children are often innocent and good, but just as commonly they are cruel, since they know not what they do. Childhood as a mythical phase in human life, which is dependent on the laws of the adult world and is subject to its aggression, wickedness and negligence, although at the same time it challenges and threatens the adults themselves and their moral stance (as in the case of Humbert Humbert). The subject remains open for discussion! The preparation of this article was supported by the "Baltic Sleipnir" programme of the Nordic Council of Ministers. | |
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