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The title of this
paper points to some discussions that seem to have
pre-occupied the beginnings at least of the republicart
project – the notion of transversality and how the
relationships between political and artistic activities
have been re-organised in Europe over the last 5-10
years. I also invoke in the title however, Marcel
Duchamp's question, a question often repeated by Sarat
Maharaj: that is: 'how do you make a work of art, that's
not a work of art?' In putting these issues together I
am attempting to flag an anxiety that stays with me
despite the work carried out not only in the context of
republicart, but also several years now of very visible
politically and socially engaged art practices. That is,
an anxiety about how despite the purported
de-territorialising actions of transversal practices,
what we have ended up with, or is now 'visible' is more
often than not, an ever-expanded category of
(relational, socially engaged) art. In fact, one could
say, that it has become nigh impossible to make a work
of art that is not a work of art.
So the question I
am trying to raise in a sense is, how does this issue
of visibility relate to the production of new so-called
transversal or constituent practices that cross the
field and institutions of art? To what degree do regimes
of legibility and the forms into which practices are
constituted in order to render themselves recognisable
as this or that, limit or foreclose what is possible
for such new practices? And finally, what are the strategies
and dynamics involved in working across situations,
institutions and discourses without becoming identified
with them, or subsumed to them? (And immediately here,
I am generalising the term visibility to also mean recognisability
and legibility.)
To continue then with a by now much quoted thesis on contemporary art by
Alain Badiou: Badiou writes: 'It is better to do nothing than to contribute to the invention of formal
ways of rendering visible that which Empire already
recognises as existent.'
Here Badiou negatively connotes a condition or state
of visibility, within a regime of Empire. The invention
of already known or recognisable forms is deemed pointless.
In the context of this paper I would like to
connect this statement to Maharaj after Duchamp's question
(how do you make a work of art that's not a work of
art?) by supposing 'the work of art' to be the recognisable,
visible form laid bare to management and containment
by Empire. In other words I am suggesting that the grand
inclusion or identification of all kinds of transversal
practices, practices of self-organisation, practices
in which it is never clear where the art ends and the
politics begins, into expanded categories of art ('relational',
socially engaged etc) needs to be met with suspicion
The suggestion is therefore - that for transversal practices
to retain a critical relation to 'Empire', it is important
that they remain what Sarat Maharaj has called 'doggedly
eye-proof'.
I would argue that designations of certain practices
as artworks, or restrictions of particular activities
and forms to the 'art field' can limit and even foreclose
their potential.
Now what are these
practices and what is meant by transversality in this
context? One might summarise much of what has been at
work in art aswell as political practices over the last
10 years (at least) is a simultaneous questioning of
the representational structures of the political party
operating within the corporate ethos of the nation state,
and the genres of traditional community-based and public
art which correspond with these structures of political
representation. This questioning of the structures underpinning
the political is borne out in the significance to contemporary
social movements of Zapatismo and 'new anarchist' experimentation
with direct democracy through different forms of organisation.
The often-collaborative artistic and political practices
to which I refer also refuse to speak for minor constituencies,
instead developing modalities that support other kinds
of collective praxis. Gerald Raunig has argued that
the renewed interest in public, participatory, community
and interventionist art in the 1990s in Europe has taken
on a newly politicised character this very connection
'with heterogeneous activities against economic globalisation'.
This work, often collaborative and concerned with issues
of public and social space, the freedom of movement
and of knowledge, takes on multiple forms and often
works across many different sites. Common to new cultural
and activist practices is a focus on experimentation
rather than representation, a focus on means: on activity
that brings into proximity the why and the how
of coming together. Practices such as those initiated
by Routes,
Belfast, No One is Illegal and Florian Schneider, 16Beaver, Ultra-Red, involve
producing situations, sets of tools and procedures that
can be moved in and out of by various constituencies.
Such practices might be said to use artistic modalities,
as opposed to representations or even expressions, creatively
producing new organisational forms, constellations and
situations as they move through physical and social
spaces.
Now, such practices
might also be characterised as transversal, or rather
to produce transversals? (the grammar always gets very
difficult when dealing with the transversal). The term
transversal is often associated with Gilles Deleuze
and Felix Guattari A
Thousand Plateaus. However, it was first developed
by Guattari at La Borde clinic in France as a tool for
the re-organisation of institutional practices of psychiatry,
that were conventionally based on processes of transference
between the analyst and the analysand. Guattari sought
to displace the transferential processes that produce
what he called institutional objects and introduce open
collective practices that worked across
the confines of the institution itself. Broadly speaking,
Guattari used the term transversality as a conceptual
tool to open hitherto closed logics and hierarchies
and to experiment with relations of interdependency
in order to produce new assemblages and alliances. In
his activist work, Guattari used transversality as a
critique and a rupture with inherited forms of political
organisation such as 'the party'. In his later work
and in his collaborations with A/Traverso and Radio
Alice however, Guattari focused less on the psychoanalytic
'scaffolding' of the term and more on how modes of transversality
might produce different forms of (collective) subjectivity
that break down oppositions between the individual and
the group.
A movement or mode
of transversality explicitly sets out to de-territorialise
the disciplines, fields and institutions it works across.
Recently, Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, as well as
critics such as Gerald Raunig have used the term to
describe new terrains of open co-operation between different
activist, artistic, social and political practices.
For Raunig in particular, these modes of co-operation
are not forms of 'solidarity' between actors or areas
of 'inter-disciplinarity' between fields, but rather
signal a non-representational and additive form of alliance.
The co-ordinating conjunction 'and' is not an inclusion
mechanism, a random stringing together, or a series
of contextual filiations. It is rather a modality of
the between that produces temporary alliances between
practices and 'fields': forms of alliance that are appropriate
to their collective actions. Crucially, they cannot
leave intact the fields that they have worked across.
The transversal is an organisational form that does
not separate the how and the why of collective activities.
Guattari intended the work of transversality to rupture
inherited forms of political organisation that create
institutional objects or what he called 'deathly organisational
reproduction'. And so, transversality cannot be seen
as 'there' as a given. It is not a form into which one
steps, but is rather continuously constituted through
events, acts of alliance and temporary organisation.
Since the transversal is in a permanent condition of
taking place and cannot be defined as a positive thing
or entity, but rather a production that retains organisational
structures in a state of becoming, it is also crucially
linked to production – the production of subjectivity
and what Guattari calls self-engendering practices that
seek to create their own signifiers and systems of value.
As such, transversal
practices are often not recognisable as traditional
activist campaigns or 'art practices' and are disinterested
in debates that impose what Sarat Maharaj has called
'nominal closure' on their activities. They are also
often involved in intervening not only in the structures
of artistic representation but also the institutional
structures that produce and reproduce objects and encounters.
Now, much of what
goes on within the practices named above involves bringing
different people together, creating sometimes temporary,
sometimes not, social spaces for interaction. For example,
the Los Angeles-based group Ultra-Red (which consists
of a fluid group of those who would otherwise be identified
as residents, community organisers, activists, artists
and musicians) based in the Pico Aliso district of Los
Angeles explicitly describe their multiple activities
through a practice of organising. Their activities began
and to a certain extent continue to centre on demands
for housing and labour rights in this area of Los Angeles.
By employing different strategies of collaboratively
produced audio works, campaigning, organising social
events as well as actions in collaboration with other
residents and workers in the neighbourhood, Ultra-Red,
in the words of one member, work on a collectively produced
space.
Such a mode of practice and organisation is not based
on a mutual identification or a single set of aims,
yet the desire and the pragmatic need to work and practice
together is shared. The 'group's' structures guard against
overt hierarchies, and the ways in which it locates
its various practices for the most part ensures that
it traverses different fields, institutions and recognisable
forms of practice, throwing each into relief as it they
do so.
Such a practice and
many of the terms used above however, might also sound
familiar to another discourse: that of relational aesthetics.
For critic Nicholas Bourriaud, such social spaces of
interaction came to constitute actual artworks in the
1990s. Bourriaud began his study of by comparing the
specific sociability produced in the places of art (the
ability to comment on and discuss work 'live' in its
presence) to what he deems to be the individual, private
spaces of consumption produced by theatre, cinema and
literature. Art for Bourriaud moves from a form that
produces this special sociability to a form explicitly
and exclusively focussed on producing such forms of
conviviality. Bourriaud describes relational art as
'art that takes as its theoretical horizon the realm
of human interactions and its social context rather
than the assertion of an independent and private symbolic
space'. This concept seemingly extends and modifies
critiques of the autonomous work of art present in the
discourses of art history since the 1960s. However,
in presenting relational art's specific concern for
social bonds and human relationships through its use
of interactive, user-friendly concepts, Bourriaud tends
to present these artworks as cures for social alienation
or as an artistic stitching that will re-connect what
he calls the communicational divide. He opposes imposed
'communication zones' (and various dystopian images
of automatic public toilets, cash machines, and the
automated telephone wake up call) to the free areas
and contrasting rhythms of the art exhibition. This
allows him to subsequently claim that 'contemporary
art is definitely developing a political project when
it endeavours to move into the relational realm by turning
it into an issue'.[5]
Bourriaud
however relies on concepts of alienation and reification
based on modernist notions of production and rational
communication and counter-poses to them an older autonomous
and romantic concept of art. In addition, as many critics
have pointed out Bourriaud's delineation of recent and
contemporary relational art's sphere of utility bears
a striking resemblance to contemporary managerial discourses.
Bourriaud never explains how
exactly, art develops a political project through turning
the relational realm into an issue? His account of relational
art is based on the premise of the alienated subject
who is incapable of 'real' communication under capitalist
conditions. Under post-fordism Paulo Virno and others
have argued however, communication and co-operation
have become the very fabric of capitalist production.
Yet for Bourriaud the conviviality and sociability of
relational artworks can magically rescue communication
from its alienated conditions. No answer is provided
as to why art should have this capacity. It would therefore
seem that the mere definition of these activities as
art is what enables this capacity for de-alienation
and distinguishes them from any other form of relational
activity.
A
curious reversal can then take place and we can see
this in many more obvious examples in recent 'socially-engaged'
or relational art practices of how the mere calling
on the category of art and the artist automatically
deems an activity radical. For example recent manifestations
of 'Artist's Marching Band' and an 'An Artist's Football
Team', or a series of other activities such as artists
serving coffee, is supposed to make the activity somehow
political and/or radical. And so, where does this leave
us? By effectively resorting to a modernist notion of
art as a separate autonomous sphere, with an inherently
transformative capacity, a discourse of relational art
elides the relationship between art and the political.
This
elision is a good example of how a recent and influential
critical paradigm that ostensibly seeks to value and
open out new realms of practice, and articulate the
relationship between art, community and the political
differently, is limited by its containment of a whole
series of practices within an already recognisable category
of art. Within a discourse of relational aesthetics,
not only do a whole range of activities get mysteriously
named art, but their political 'effects' are reduced
to a list of romantic assumptions of art's transformative
capacities. It is through a whole series of curatorial
procedures, often with the willing participation of
practitioners, starting from the seemingly minor gesture
of referring to a series of activities or their detritus
as 'a piece', that a rendering of such practices as
art takes place.
And so, in rendering relational practices and
practices of organisation as art Bourriaud makes these
practices legible to contemporary systems of value,
cultural and symbolic capital (which Alain Badiou defines
as Empire in the quotation above).
There seems to me
to be a world of difference between this kind of 'artification'
of entire practices, and the locating of one of Ultra
Red's events in a gallery, or a temporary 'No One is
Illegal' HQ at Documenta, or one of Platforma 981's
temporary gallery installations for example. The latter
projects proliferate public platforms, questioning and
throwing each into relief as they pass through, while
the former tend to submit to the rules, procedures and
behaviours of art. Transversal practices often work
across and through different fields, starting out not
from given spaces for negotiation and approved ways
of doing things, but through the simultaneous invention
of actions and procedures. By retaining active and mobile
relationships to known fields and systems of value,
transversal practices can remain vigilant toward regimes
of knowledge, disciplinary and institutional power that
might limit their activities through a naming and containment
within given definitions or new expanded 'forms' of
art. In doing so, they run the risk of falling out of
visibility, being illegible as art or anything other
form, but also gain the capacity to push against and
even re-organise the institutional and political structures
of artistic recognition and production -- rather than
play within them, making small barters for cultural
capital instead. This is dynamic that Brian Holmes has
described so well.
Put another way,
and to refer back to Badiou, when such activities are
made visible as
art, as the conjunction 'as' suggests, we put them
'in the form of' what we already know and can account
for. I would argue that for practices operating transversally,
it is important not
to solidify into such recognisable forms, but to attempt
instead to render themselves in a particular consistency.
The term consistency connotes both the regularity of
an activity, and the level of thickness of a substance
(think of cookery lessons). Deleuze and Guattari have
used the term consistency to describe a plane of immanence
that can never 'pre-exist the becomings that compose
it' and that resists re-constitution into forms or subjects
of depth.
Consistency refers to a movement and a material substance
that holds heterogeneities together without resorting
to a structure that would impose a form upon matter.
Agamben has also used the term suggestively to describe
a state in which the condition of potentiality must
suspend itself in order to remain between the virtual
and the actual.
A practice might be said to retain a certain
potentiality through this consistency. And so in these
terms, the attempt to retain practices in a certain
consistency crucially works to open out different, as
yet unknown futures for the ideas, concepts and activities
described.
So, to conclude:
'transversal practices' must often negotiate a double
and sometimes paradoxical move. A logic of refusal –
of resisting visibility, or taking on recognisable forms.
This refusal while running serious risks of invisibility,
marginalisation, or inoperability, however also becomes
a condition for an opening out of another logic, or
system of valorisation.
This is what I take to be the proposition of the work
of art, that's really not a work of art. And so, as Maurizio Lazzarato has argued,
in such a situation one should recognise and work with
the paradox that in order to defend something you might
also need to displace it, and its categorisation at
the same time.
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