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| Interview with Līga Marcinkeviča Laima Slava At this year's Venice Biennale, Latvia will be represented in the official exhibition by the F5 (Famous Five) group, with their "Dark Bulb" project. Līga Marcinkeviča is a member of the fivesome. However, on this occasion, Studija is putting its questions to LÈGA MARCINKEVIČA as the curator of the national presentation. | |
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Studija: You're a young artist, and I'm sure you have major ambitions as an artist. However, you've taken on the functions of a curator. How do you combine these aspects?
Līga Marcinkeviča: It was a competition for the post of curator. The curator had to offer his or her vision, listing all the artists and describing the idea. In the end, the main emphasis was actually on the artists, and I was chosen from our group as the one who would submit the project. But I would like to emphasise most clearly that the curator is F5. The concept and the main idea were all created jointly. We have already created several projects as a group. At Saõ Paulo we were three, now we're four. (It's possible to obtain a sense of how many people can realize one particular project or another.) This is one of our largest projects - actually, we've never had such a large one. Since there are only four of us working on the project, we don't have a management unit to organise the transport, printing and so forth. We not only have to think up and implement the artistic side, but also everything relating to the project, so we've divided up the different task areas between us. In all of our group's projects, I've been doing the most paperwork. Now I'm in control of the whole process, but it does sometimes happen that I simply say: "That's it, I can't cope any more: you ring them now!" It's a question of development. It'd never be possible simply to "leap into" such a major event. You start with one project and then move on to larger and larger ones. Already at the 49th Venice Biennale, I became involved in helping to organise the national presentation, undertaking the work of curator at the Centre for Contemporary Art. But I don't know why I "as an artist" am doing his. Maybe it's because our group represents quite a mix in psychological terms, so that people from outside have difficulty collaborating with us. F5 is quite a self-sufficient organism. It's not easy even for me. And it happens that on occasion "I as a project manager" talk to "them as artists". Then they get mad at me, but we leave the room, while "I as curator" stay behind, and then we can talk on a different level. All the time it's a case of having a split personality. Studija: Does this mean you don't trust anyone from outside? L.M.: Yes, we waited until the last moment for one of the people known as curators in Latvia to approach us. But nobody did. And then we decided to write the project ourselves. The democratic form of the competition allowed you to submit as many proposals as you wished. So long as you had an idea. We saw this as a challenge. We didn't want to have to gripe about it in our old age: what a shame we didn't give it a shot... That we weren't really up to it. If we disregard our local, regional context, then it's clear to all the world that we actually did already take part in the 50th Biennale. (Perhaps that's why there were very strict rules this time about the catalogue: it had to include only the material that would be shown at the pavilions.) Studija: Why did you not attend back then? L.M.: In order for there to be a national representative, there had to be a directive from the top cultural institution, an official letter addressed to the director of the Venice Biennale himself, signed by the minister of culture, saying that such an such a person was being appointed curator and that the following artists would be representing the country. It's not like at the Skonto exhibition hall, for example, where you simply purchase the trading space and then use it how you will. The country has to confirm that it wishes to participate in the event. At the 50th Biennale, our country didn't declare this. Of course, it means public funding, augmented with money from sponsors. The main initiative lies with the state. Likewise, the invitations usually state that the minister of culture is inviting you to the opening. This time, there's considerable backing from the state, but with the damned inflation, everything's become so terribly difficult... Something that appears in a different guise in each country. Studija: On the previous occasion, Māra Traumane was the curator. Now you've rejected the idea of having a curator from outside. But isn't the curator the one who ensures that the artists can work normally? L.M.: We haven't talked through these matters properly. We tend to confuse a curator with the post known as "commissioner" - the overall administrator heading the project. The Venice Biennale has a curator and a commissioner, who supervises the financial aspects and collaborates with the curator. The curator is the one choosing the artist, providing him or her with the necessary conditions and discussing all the conceptual matters, but they're not involved in money matters. At the next level, he or she goes to the commissioner to resolve organisational matters. So the commissioner is someone entirely different from the curator. The curator doesn't have to worry about money; he or she is responsible for the creative aspect. But over here, the curator does everything. Yes, they have to write concepts, analyses and projects, and they know why they've chosen to work with these particular people. The commissioner organises everything and takes full responsibility. Over here, it's clearly understood that the curator is the one looking for funding. In actual fact, these different aspects are incompatible, and one of them will inevitably suffer. I'm precisely in such a situation: I'm everything at once, responsible for everything. One artist could never do it, so that's why there's a group, providing the necessary capacity. Studija: This is the first time I've heard such a division stated so clearly: is it because of our limited funding that we usually don't discuss it? After all, you could hire such a commissioner for your project. L.M.: In the hierarchy at the Biennales, the commissioner is the most important figure. The closest example is Estonia. The commissioner really has to be an institution that works with such projects from year to year, that has already built up experience. All this time, Sirje Helme has been the commissioner in Estonia: she's responsible for everything, she keeps the ball rolling in the year between Biennales, she makes sure that money's provided from the state budget, and so forth. She also has all the information about the Biennale, and the curator of the presentation on that particular occasion collaborates with her (this year, Hanno Soans won the competition). It's importantnot to start from scratch every time. From the organisational point of view, this event is a project where the phases of development always remain the same: the preparation phase, the opening and supervision during the whole five months. There may be minor changes, if that year's major curator has some specific aspects in their project. If there's a single organisation dealing with it, then it's much simpler for the curator working on the creative aspect. Actually, it means there's a management body withgood language skills that comprehends the special aspects relating to creative projects, since it's hard to explain to a company accountant how art projects differ from the rest. A flexible management body that knows how to collaborate with whichever curator has won the competition for that particular year. Because I've noticed that personal relationships are important in this collaboration. Our neighbours, for example, have experienced a degree of tension in relationships with the winning curators, who, of course, did everything they had to, so that in the end it all came out right. There were differences of opinion. In order for the project to proceed successfully and so that all the people involved can collaborate, it's important to avoid personal antagonism and not to have psychologically incompatible people working together. Studija: How was the venue chosen? L.M.: That you have to ask the Ministry of Culture. When the results of the competition became known, we were simply handed a plan of the premises. The choice had already been made, and a cooperation agreement had been concluded with the Estonian management body. The agreement I concluded with the state already had an attachment stating the venue and the management body we'd be collaborating with. In actual fact, that makes it easier. In terms of responsibility as well. Studija: How did the group react having the particular venue provided for your project? L.M.: Most professionally! We have to live with what we've got! Studija: Where is it located? L.M.: Not far from the Academy Bridge, the San Samuele boat station. A 14th-16th century palazzo, but not one of the grandest: I'd say it's more like a townhouse. The Palazzo Malipiero. The Estonians held their presentation here last time, so there's already some connection with it. That particular area has quite a dense concentration of national presentations. Last time, Luxembourg's pavilion was nearby - the pavilion that won the award as the best one. For the first time in the history of the Biennale, the award went to a pavilion outside the Giardini. We have the ground floor, and the Estonians have the first floor, as they did last time. It'll be a kind of "Baltic wing". It seems that in this way it'll be visited by more people. The ground floor has five rooms with two entrances, arranged in a horseshoe. The ceiling is not very high. The total area is 102 m2. You come in through one door and go out through the other. At present, I'm mentally going through all five rooms and visualising what kind of screws I'll need and what kind of brackets. If there are carpets, then we'll also need threshold bars so that people don't trip, and so forth. Because it'd be crazy to try to buy all this in Venice. In the first place, it's impossible to find what you need, it's also hideously expensive, and moreover, there's no way you can include it in the Latvian accounts! Right now, we're nearing the big moment when the work is loaded into the van and taken away. Studija: How does the idea behind your work correspond to the character of the venue? L.M.: When we began to turn our creative vision into a specific plan, we made use of the fact that one of the rooms was always going to be central, and we tried to place the emphases accordingly. There's an introduction, a romantic paraphrase, a central area and then the fourth and fifth room, with the resolution. If the viewer starts from entrance B, they'll get all this information the other way round. The main idea of the Spanish curators this year was a game with time: the past, present and future. In our presentation, we've also chanced to end up with the same. Basically, it's a dramatic, poetic story about a scientist who's invented the dark bulb. From entrance A we begin with the background to the story, ending with the present day and looking to the future, but if you start from the present, then you reach the origin of the story. Thus, it can be read from both ends. It also tells of opposites, of the converse nature of things. The whole presentation will be dark. A great deal of black paint. It's as if we're creating this work more as a space for contemplation for ourselves. The pace of life is so fast that you need darkness in order to have space to think, creating images in your head, rather than trusting in the tricks your eyes play on you. During this time, we've talked to all sorts of interesting people. For example, a real scientist, a mathematician from the Institute of Solid State Physics, who's also been filmed in our publicity clip. We had an interesting talk about the way we create a visual image. In actual fact, it's self-deception, an illusory trick. Our brain creates an image, and we call this seeing: we see this cup. The eye is constructed in such a way that we see the image upside down. Then it goes to the brain, which turns it the right way up. And then it's processed so that we see it's a cup. But how is it in the dark? In the dark, you are thinking about what you're seeing. So our work is about darkness and especially about what goes on in people's heads. Actually, images create all the human senses. For people with impaired vision, it's all different: they have ideas based on touch and hearing. We see that it's a tree. I have a little file in my head: I know what a tree looks like. I can't feel or understand it, but just by glancing at it, I know it's a tree. Studija: So an artist does whatever he or she wants to. But there are four of you. It can't be that you all want the same. L.M.: No, each of us is completely different. But F5 is a mergence of the ideas and thoughts of the people participating at that particular time. F5 itself is an artist. The work is drawn and takes shape as we discuss it, and later it's impossible to remember exactly who said what. Studija: Does this mean you've each relinquished your personalities as individual artists? L.M.: No. Mārtiņš does the graphic art, and so on. Recently, I don't seem to have my own independent share of work. It seems there's simply no time for it... Each of us is doing our own work, but the big projects are joint creations. They also permit a flight of fancy, because we know that together we'll be able to implement it and see it through: when one of us is exhausted, the others will carry it further. Studija: Elsewhere in the world, at the many major exhibitions you've taken part in, for example in Saõ Paulo, you get a broader picture of the art scene and you can assess current trends. Do you not consider such categories? Is it important for you to see what other artists are doing? L.M.: I can't say we take a great interest in what others are doing. When we attend some big exhibition, then we do look around. For us it's like a dose of vitamins. We have only our own ideas, arising from various stimuli. After all, a work of art does not come about from nothing, it can't be created by imagining it. Perhaps there are artists who work like that, but our group doesn't. There's TV, there's the news, the climate, manufactured items - everything going on around us. The density of information is so great, it's spreading all the time, and similar things can arise simultaneously and independently in different places. Every artist has the ambition of doing whatever he or she wishes. Only the approaches differ. They depend on the technology available at the particular place and time. In terms of technology and funding, we can't compete with the big countries. Often, the implementation of an idea is subordinated to the technical possibilities. Studija: In the process of your work, do you consider the proportion of success and failure in overcoming creative difficulties? L.M.: I'll give my view as a project manager. I don't permit myself to think in such categories at all. I consider that as soon as I start making a division into things that do and don't work at some particular time, then it'll be practically impossible to implement the project. I say that "There are no problems, only solutions". There are material difficulties and psychological ones - all kinds. And then you seek solutions. I see this as a normal part of implementing a project. Studija: How do you yourselves perceive the Venice Biennale as a phenomenon? L.M.: I see it as a realisation of possibilities. But I think that in our local context this event has been glorified, and that's why it's become such an acrimonious issue. Of course, you can only come to understand this by comparing. People from museums in France and Belgium had come to see Jukas. We asked: "Who'll be representing your country?" When I was in Germany, too, I asked the same question. And they reply: "Well, somebody is... I read it in some magazine, but I can't remember..." Or in France: "The artist is working. It's a secret. When the time comes, we'll see." That's normal. They know that there are responsible institutions and services and that there'll be a presentation in their pavilion. They also trust that an artist has been chosen, who has the right to do in their pavilion whatever he or she wishes. There's no criticism or censorship in advance. This seems very healthy to me: you shouldn't condemn the artist before the work's finished! There's all this talk about taxpayers' money, emphasising the aspect of elitism and creating a negative atmosphere. Let the work be created first, let it come to life! Of course, we know what'll be there, but you can only give a conceptual outline beforehand. I think the question concerning the Venice Biennale has been artificially complicated, and it's not perceived in a natural way. You do need a kind of ladder: galleries, museums and then major international exhibitions, where the artist can see his or her development, an opportunity for participation. It's important to any artist to be able to exhibit their work in galleries and exhibition halls in the big metropolises. The national exhibitions also have big catalogues. If there are 74 countries participating, then the catalogue will travel to 74 countries. But at the same time, each artist also appreciates that many thousands will never actually bother to find out who participated from Latvia - unless the description itself arouses interest. Perhaps, the coming Shanghai Biennial is actually more important for Latvia? Studija: What is it like to create work for a competition? L.M.: Exasperating. It all depends on the funding. Let's be realistic. There's everyday work, where you earn money for your food and rent. None of us can afford to do things only for the fun of it. Every artistic idea turns into a project, with phases of implementation and a set aim. If we were free, of course we'd do all sorts of things, because you need practice. Just like a draughtsman needs to draw. You perceive this at times when you're simply drained, when you're re-using some technique that you've actually lost interest in. Studija: Perhaps it's possible to choose some less expensive medium? L.M.: I think there's no such thing. It's actually impossible to calculate. But, if you want to paint in good conditions, rather than in a cellar, this is expensive in Riga at the moment. In actual fact, work with technology, where you're sitting down at a computer that takes up only a small amount of space, costs less than the painter's work, with colours, brushes and canvas in an appropriately lit studio. At least it seems that way to me. Studija: How do you view the future of art in society? It is said (and such an impression does indeed come about) that art as a component of social life is increasingly being shunted aside and must make itself felt more and more strongly. So that it can get more attention and money. How would you like to see it in the future? L.M.: It would be interesting to work somewhere else as well. To become acquainted with the tactics of realising projects, to gain experience... But, as regards the financial backing needed by art: I think no more can be done simply on the strength of enthusiasm. Art and other aspects of culture constitute a normal part of social life. The idea that art and culture are sponging money is a myth that's been intentionally spread. Amateur activity should not be confused with professional art and culture. Amateur activity means I can do whatever I like, so long as I can afford it. It's always been like that. In the media, you hear that art has always been something "on the side". But professionalism has never been something "on the side". I'm one of the people who believe in a bright future, and I'm a doer. I'm not an ideologue. But I do have a wonderful vision: the weather's fine all the time, we have our art museum and our concert hall, and I'm so immensely important that I get all sorts of invitations... I'm sitting in our new library on the riverbank; there's a good cafē at the museum, where people meet and everyone finally gets a chance to talk among themselves; it's all so sincere... Nowadays, cultural bodies have split up: we have so many of them in Riga, the events coincide, and even if you wished to, it'd be simply impossible to maintain close contact with all of them, being in the know about whatever somebody has dreamt up in their little society office across the river. So I think it would be wonderful to have that big museum. As in Helsinki: you know that in the museum cafē you're bound to meet an acquaintance, even if they're from another country. | |
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