Propaganda for Today

I may be forgetting some, but two movies I watched recently had to do with the industries and systems that get the food we eat from the soil, water, pastures, and cages to our tables, lunchboxes, takeout containers, and stomachs. These were the documentaries Unser täglich Brot (Our Daily Bread, 2005) and No Impact Man: The Documentary (2009). The first is a completely word-less series of slow pans in various North and East European food facilities where machines and people pick, sort, process, and package every kind of plant and animal you can imagine. The second follows a man and his family around Brooklyn and Manhattan as they attempt to lead their lives while making the least amount of environmental impact possible for one year.

Though we may safely assume that both films aim to expose their viewers to the hidden impact and meaning of their habitual, daily consumption, the way they go about this task is pretty much as different as you can imagine. While Colin Beavin, the guinea pig of the No Impact Man project has set out to raise awareness by example and appeal, Nikolaus Geyerhalter, the director of Unser täglich Brot believes in revealing the unseen cogs in the machine and allowing his viewer plenty of time to think and come to her own uncomfortable conclusions. While Beavin's journey is portrayed through the trials and difficulties it showers on his relationship with his wife (a familiar narrative of blissful ignorance and the eventual acceptance of hard-but-good-for-you truths), Geyerhalter's film aspires to something closer to horror: you are sucked in by the pristine beauty of shiny conveyor belts and endless fields of sunflowers only to be confronted with the similarly beautiful precision of streams of baby chicks coming down the chute or the hyper-efficient dismemberment of hanging cows carcasses. The first is light on shock value (you see the burning land-fills in the Bronx, but there are no sick children who are ostensibly breathing the gases), while the second is light on message (is the aesthetic repetition of these horrific images about our numbness to the realities of food production, or should we be relieved that the facilities are so clean, safe, and effective?)

I started thinking today that both of these films propose a model of propaganda for the present day. They each try to employ their form and genre in a way that changes the viewer's consciousness and by extension (hopefully) her actions. While Beavin has been criticized for trivializing a serious issue for self-promotion, it was actually his earnestness - he looked profoundly worried in literally every shot and there was more than one situation in which his commitment to the project led to what seemed like a conflict in the very fabric of the couple's relationship - that was the movie's driving force. The story of their relationship became a model for the viewer's own potential transformation as a consumer and citizen. It had all the tropes of a cheesy romantic comedy, and yet its use of these tropes within the propaganda model made me more determined to sacrifice, waste less, do more. In other words, it worked.

Our Daily Bread, on the other hand, while seeming to be far more self-conscious of its form and formal qualities, is far less successful, to my mind, as propaganda. True, when I saw this film I was so disturbed by the images, I literally could not speak and had to cut the evening short because I could no longer interact with the people I had come to visit. On me, the form had done its job. But this was not the case across the board: my friends, who I might mention were not vegetarians already, were certainly affected, but not so much that they could not step outside the experience in order to discuss it and they did not, as far as I know, change their attitudes to meat-eating. The film revealed processes for sure, but it did not judge them, and in the end, the revelation was mostly about aesthetics, of providing an iconography to something that we try to not look at or think about too much. What we do with that iconography, lacking a clear directive, is I suppose our own business.

So, what is this about? What am I trying to get at? I suppose one thing we should think about is the subject of these variously successful attempts at what I'm calling "propaganda for today" - they are about food, clothing, personal consumption, farms and food processing facilities, living in cities, interconnectedness, local and global industry; they are about the way that I am connected to the bigger picture through the world of things. But not - for the most part - the long view of history, social injustice, how I relate to others, or what has brought me to this point. And while they do aim for change, they locate that change squarely in my individual consciousness, by appealing to me as an individual viewer, not - as was of course the case in many more familiar examples of propaganda in the last century - to us. Is this about the disintegration of the "big stories" or a new belief in the collective potential of micro-changes? As often happens with propaganda, I guess it's less important how change happens, as that it happens at all, by any means necessary. These seem to be the means we're using now. I wish I could believe that they will make a difference.

Baptism

photo: Irina Shteinberg

New performance by Andrey Kuzkin: washing glossy magazines at Fabrika in Moscow.

This has all the qualities of Kuzkin's recent work: simple (though not simplistic) concept, earnestness and bodily exertions, criticism of media/spectacle/commerce, allusions to conceptualism, this time through institutional critique, and a real attempt to break distance between artist & audience. Wish I'd been there. Wonder what happened to all the image/text-free magazines after it was all over... (Thanks for the tip, vk.)

See some other works. some

Protest to Save Tretyakov Gallery and TsDKh

For those not following the action, there are plans to tear down the building that houses the Central House of Artists (TsDKh) and the modern and contemporary art collection of the State Tretyakov Gallery. This building:


Home of one of Malevich's Black Squares and many of Russia's most important contributions to the history of 20th century art besides, it's the place where many of Moscow's artists and art historians (I am told) first gained a sense of direction and purpose in things art historical.

The 1979 building, however, is also waterfront property on the Moscow River.

Yesterday, there was a second picket/meeting to show popular opposition to proposed plans to replace the building with commercial property and move the space to some other as-yet unconstructed building, off "to the curb." You can see pictures of the protest on the page of the lj user nefte. (You may, if you look carefully, recognize a certain blue hoodie among the protesters.)

Personally, I'm conflicted. Of course, I support the protection of sovereign art spaces and reject the notion of profit and commerce elbowing its way into all available and unavailable space in the center of the city. Of course.

But unfortunately, I wouldn't say that the Tretyakov or TsDKh are the kinds of art spaces I would want for Moscow. They are stuffy, poorly hung, with boring and/or non-existent programming and generally seem to serve little affirmative purpose apart from keeping treasured works of art out of the rain and hosting interesting book fairs. I wish the art-loving population of Moscow would go to the streets demanding truly sovereign art spaces not controlled by an old-guard bureaucracy that is uninterested in moving beyond 1979 or by wealthy oligarchs and their art-appreciating girlfriends. It may seem like the urgent issue now is to hold the line and protect the space art already has. But from the generally sombre mood of yesterday's protest, it seems to me that some more inspiring plans for the future (new space, new structure, more than what's already there instead of going back to the same old thing) may be what's really in order now...

"Like being alive twice."

Judging from this doozy, I may have to start reading the Obituaries instead of the Weddings & Celebrations for the real potboilers. Novel and screenplay-writing friends, you're welcome.

And this Zadie Smith piece about speaking in tongues may require comment. But for now, I just wanted to share.

Healing "laying on of hands" ceremony in the Pentecostal Church of God. Lejunior, Harlan County, Kentucky, September 15, 1946. Photo: Russell Lee (Department of the Interior/ Solid Fuels Administration For War). Source: The National Archives (via)

Ugh, That Was Totally Uncalled For! What Was That Lady Thinking? Gross!

Okay, two things.

One:



OMFG, how did I not know about this ahead of time? I suppose this raises a question: what's more important - religious sentiment or sheer awesomeness? Cause, you know, they're dunkin' for Jeebus, people. (via)

And two: Have you seen Rachel Maddow's interview with Gov. F-word, a.k.a. Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich? If you have not, you need to download it on the itunes or get it on the youtube or whatever. It is mesmerizing. This man is an absolute maniac and I found it nearly impossible to turn away from his car-wreck of a self-defense. Here's how crazy it was: I actually agreed with him about the "innocent until proven guilty" thing and wished that other politicians *ahem, Eliot Spitzer* would stick up for themselves a bit more instead of slinking off and letting those sharks have the last laugh. What?! Eliot "I am a fucking steamroller" Spitzer? This is some strong brew. Fasten your seat-belts.

Dear Republicans,

Nobody cares what you think.

A National Arts Adviser?

Buster's talking about the Office of the Historian has gotten me to thinking: why in the world doesn't the US have anyone officially in charge of our arts policy? And looky here: a thoughtful piece arguing in favor of a national arts adviser to coordinate the different agencies involved in America's arts programs. Green is not talking about just funding the arts (yes, we do have the National Endowment for the Arts), but somebody actually coordinating strategic efforts to direct arts policy, from diplomacy to education to regional arts intiatives, preservation, etc etc etc. I am especially enthusiastic about the idea of somebody in charge of advocating more ardently for arts education, addressing visa issues for cultural exchange, and (Green doesn't mention it, but...) some kind of national database of visual, print, and film material in public institutions and in the public domain (kind of like the Archives of American Art or Canada's National Film Board, but you know, bigger and better and integrating all American public museum collections).

I have to admit that when I first saw the title of the piece, the first thing that came to mind was the Cold War attempts to use avant-garde art as a form of soft power to buy the hearts and minds of Communist citizens. Look! Abstract Art! Freedom! (This is was a pretty trendy line of art history scholarship a little while back.) Clearly, though, there are many other ways in which cultural policy is relevant and necessary, and this piece outlines a whole slew of them. My only criticism: he leaves out any discussion of whom we might entrust with such an important post. This person would have to be familiar with both international diplomacy, domestic (particularly local) policy, and the private and public art worlds, which are all some specialized, cliquey realms. In Europe (at least in France), they've long had someone like this. But an American André Malreaux*? I can't even imagine.

Art Students League Class, ca. 1885. (Source: Archives of American Art)

*Well, except for that whole stealing bas reliefs from Cambodian temples thing...we have our own problems with repatriation of cultural objects of dubious provenance, thank you very much.

Let's Hear It for the Globalization of Pop

Gregory Warner's "For Which It Stands: Afghanistan, an accordion journey"

I don't know how to embed the player, but just go here to view the videotape. A cute story about speaking across the cultural divide through...pop culture. I especially like how this guy dresses the part.

Art &/or Politics

So, it has been a while, and I'm still working on trying to figure out how I feel about the issue. The issue, broadly, being art and politics. Though this resolves into a number of directions: Should artists make art with a political agenda? Can artists make art without a political agenda? Do we, as art historians (or just viewers) look for political agenda in art? How do we even define political content in a work of art? What is/should be the relationship between aesthetics and politics, and is this the same question as the relationship of art to activism?

To catch you up on where this ball of yarn started:

• I went to see two of the three lectures by Boris Groys, in which he outlined a pseudo-Benjaminian theory of artistic development, updating "The Work of Art in the Age of Technical Reproducibility" (or whatever the translation flavor of the week is) to include digitalization and the internet. He posited that in the battlefield of today's digitalized, wired world, the individual artist has lost position; everyone is now an artist and nobody is a viewer.
• The Kandinsky prize (Russia's baby-Turner) was awarded to the hard-right nationalist Alexei Belyaev-Gintovt, leading to some interesting developments in the local art camps. Some artists, leftist activists, and critics came out vocally against him, protesting the ceremony itself and publishing rebuttals online. Others, including some local critics/art functionaries and some non-Russian members of the jury came out for the winner, through a combination of either outright political support, claiming to have not known his political leanings, or to have ignored them intentionally in favor of his other "aesthetic" merits. A winner of one of the other awards at the ceremony defended her acceptance by saying that, when all's said and done, artists need institional support in the form of materials and studio-space, and rejecting it would mean not doing her primary job of being an artist. A sense of urgency and discussion seems to have overtaken things; people seem to be working together to find ways of making sense of things, responding...
  
• I went to a meeting put together (somewhat hastily) by Chto delat'? and Vpered!, both leftist groups, to discuss the issues surrounding the prize. While everyone (who spoke) at the meeting opposed the prize, there was a range of positions regarding further action/reaction. Some were puzzled why this even mattered: since art is created for a rarefied audience of gallery patrons anyway - protesting the prize does nothing for working conditions or society as a whole. Others defended art as a viable space for critical reflection within society, and therefore still valuable and in need of defending.

I don't particularly like talking about my project in this space for a whole slew of reasons, one of which is that I have not really figured out its purpose (the space, not the project!) and therefore probably have a number of different kinds of readers.* But insofar as it relates to the thought process that accompanied my experience of the above-mentioned events, the fact that one major part of my project involves assigning political value or a political understanding of aesthetic action has both upped the ante and somewhat paralized my own reaction to these recent events.

In the comments section of the previous post, I tried to make a distinction between works of art as they are experienced by their primary audiences and works of art as they enter what I called "the art world" (by which I meant the system in which art works begin to circulate as commodities). I said that to me, the most interesting part (the primary meaning) remains at the level of physical/temporal experience, prior to the system of circulation in which other (secondary) meanings become assigned. For example, I was interested more in the audience who attended a performance than an audience who read about a performance at an exhibition of documentary materials.

kg objected, saying quite rightly that:

"[...] I very much think that even the most underground, insular and communal of art practices do exist with a larger audience in mind, both geographically and temporally, even if this audience is entirely imagined - and to deny that institutions mediate between the original moment and these audiences is not fair to the work first and foremost..."

Agreed. Artists indeed imagine themselves in a number of contexts/histories/traditions and certainly expect to be received not only by thier immediate circles, but by future audiences for sure. They make decisions based on these expectations, which we as viewers can take into account.

However, this is not the same thing as "institutions mediating between the original moment and these audiences." What I am disagreeing with is a reading of artworks that takes institutional context as the primary location of the artwork's meaning, that an artwork's entry to the market or the art system more generally defines what it is about.

Now, I am not going to defend this position, because I know that it is somewhat mistaken. (To say so would mean that the only kinds of artworks that I can truly experience or glean meaning from are ones made by my friends in their back yards before they've gotten their solo shows at the Guggenheim, which is, of course, not quite right.) But I will try to explain the reason I came to this conclusion in hopes of starting to answer some of the questions posed at the beginning of this post (and, um, my project).

The reason I was so riled up by Groys's talk was, as I may have said, because he seemed to tell a story about art that disregarded the particular effects of artworks on viewers in favor of a bird's eye view of things, where art just seems to occupy positions vis-à-vis mass culture/religion/the internet within some kind of system populated by stupid people with short attention spans. What really got my goat were his absolutely dispassionate comments that 1) the ethical dimensions of art have to do with a pollyanna-ish "let's make the world a better place" planting of trees attitude to what art is, and 2) that Belyaev-Gintovt's winning the prize make sense, since it reflected what was happening in the current, contemporary culture, which is imploding economically, tired of Communism, and turning broadly to nationalistic/fascistic forms as anchors of meaning.

What I felt was missing from both his positions was a feeling that an artwork can have a real effect - positive or negative - on a viewer or a group of viewers (a public). That, for example, people today can still be affected by an artwork at a visceral level (despite the feeding tubes stuck into our spinal cords); or that allowing hate speech or nationalistic or fascist rhetoric to gain such a prominent platform may have an actual effect on viewers. To just speak about the way that the artwork functions within a discursive system or an institutional system the way Groys does allows, it seemed to me, a completely dispassionate reaction to what was far from a neutral event.

Anyway, I know I'm smushing a lot of different ideas together, and the line of reasoning is not exactly linear here. There'll be time for that, I just wanted to lay some of it out while the "corpse is still warm" (to quote BG himself). One other thing I wanted to share, which I ran across today that made me finally sit down and write this all out. (It won't make it any more clear, but it struck me, nonetheless.) It's Toni Morrison's response to being asked about the way certain canonical American authors have depicted blacks. The exchange follows (note the sarcasm):

Interviewer: Haven't you been critical of the way these authors depicted blacks?

Morrison: No! Me, critical? I have been revealing how white writers imagine black people, and some of them are brilliant at it. Faulkner was brilliant at it. Hemingway did it poorly in places and brilliantly elsewhere.

Interviewer: How so?

Morrison: In not using black characters, but using the aesthetic of blacks and anarchy, as sexual license, as deviance. In his last book, The Garden of Eden, Hemingway's heroine is getting blacker and blacker. The woman who is going mad tells her husband, I want to be your little African queen. The novel gets its charge that way: Her white white hair and her black, black skin...almost like a Man Ray photograph.

Mark Twain talked about racial ideology in the most powerful, eloquent, and instructive way I have ever read. Edgar Allan Poe did not. He loved white supremacy and the planter class, and he wanted to be a gentleman, and he endorsed all of that. He didn't contest it or critique it.

What is exciting about American literature is that business of how writers say things under, beneath, and around their stories. Think of Pudd'nhead Wilson and all these inversions of what race is, how sometimes nobody can tell, or the thrill of discovery?

Faulkner in Absalom, Absalom! spends the entire book tracing race and you can't find it. No one can see it, even the character who is black can't see it. I did this lecture for my students that took me forever, which was tracking all the moments of withheld, partial, or disinformation, when a racial fact or clue sort of comes out but doesn't quite arrive. I just wanted to chart it. I listed its appearance, disguise, and disappearance on every page - I mean every phrase! Everything, and I delivered this thing to my class. They all fell asleep!

But I was so fascinated, technically. Do you know how hard it is to withhold that kind of information but hinting, pointing all of the time? And then to reveal it in order to say that it is not the point anyway? It is technically just astonishing. As a reader you have been forced to hunt for a drop of black blood that means everything and nothing. The insanity of racism.

So the structure is the argument. Not what this one says or that one says...it is the structure of the book, and you are there hunting this black thing that is nowhere to be found and yet makes all the difference. No one has done anything quite like that ever. So, when I critique, what I am saying is, I don't care if Faulkner is a racist or not; I don't personally care but I am fascinated by what it means to write like this.

(Paris Review interview, 1993)

Amazing, right? The key for me is when she says "a drop of black blood that means everything and nothing. The insanity of racism" - that she finds politics in a peculiar aesthetic structure is brilliant. That's kind of where I was trying to go; Belyaev-Govnovt (as he was called at the Vpered!/Chto delat'? meeting) was clearly of secondary importance here.

Man Ray, Juliet and Margaret Nieman, 1945

*So if you are here for cooking, tattoos, or chimps on ice updates, you may guiltlessly stop reading now. Oh, oops, too late...

Snort

"Meanwhile, Georgia said it will close the Museum of Joseph Stalin in the city of Gori and reopen the building as the Museum of Russian Aggression."

Awesome. Sucks about the monasteries though.

ETA: Just in case you missed it, Gori is Stalin's birthplace. That's a neato reassignment of nationality to the native son.

MasterGote for (Vice) President!

People! Can you please take a look at this map? Click on it, please, so you can see and hear the importance of what I am about to say to you. Your own MasterGote lives a mere hop, skip, and a swim away from one of the most important people in the world, a threat to the American people, and an eyesore to the Russian schoolchildren and tourists. I am talking about Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. His house is marked in Red on this here Map. I think you will agree with me that it is Better to Be Dead than Red, and your own MasterGote, living as he does at the point marked in Blue on the Map, is in a unique position to keep an eye on old Red Vlad. (And new Red Vlad, for that matter.) Please, people, do not listen to that silly Alaskan woman. She cannot see what I see from her boonies cabin all the way up there in Alahskah. She does not enter the Moscow River on a brisk October day at the point marked in Yellow for her Inaugural Swim. MasterGote does, and he is ready to serve. MasterGote for (Vice) President! Inaugural Swim!

NYT, You Are Such a Tease

Well, since the NYTimes decided to pull it after 5 minutes online, let me go ahead and paraphrase for you the slide show that was meant to illuminate *through pictures!* the powerful dynamics in Washington dealing with this terrifying financial crisis.

1) George W. Bush was like, "Oh God, we're screwed..."


2) And then Ben Bernanke was like, "Man, that chicken sandwich was really good..."


3) And then John McCain was like, "OMGOMGOMGOMG, but I don't WANNA have a debate! Why is this happening now?"


4) But Barak was like, "Eat it. We're going to debate, and I'm going to be president." I believe the word the Times used was "rebuffed." Class-ay.

Notes on Sports

Because he is patriotic and keeps up with current affairs, MasterGote says YES to women's beach volleyball.


















PresidentGote is in agreement!