23.3.07
art... new video posted
I came across some interview footage with Damien Hirst for the Gagosian show last summer with Francis Bacon. I have attached it to my review of the show here.
11.3.07
art... Tino Sehgal
Tino Seghal
This Success or This Failure
Institute of Contemporary Art, London
29 January - 4 March 2007
Pushing open the large, heavy door to the main gallery I see ten or so children of various ages and one adult dispersed throughout the room. Amid the stark white walls of the gallery and the bare concrete floor, the pulsing shapes of children at play begin to animate the space and dispel its visual emptiness. Besides the occasional effervescent peep or giggle, the hushed mood of the room seems at once disturbed by my obvious intrusion, but I soon learn that the game at hand is Sleeping Lions, a game that depends upon a certain attempt at quiet. Out of instinct I approach the adult, but she seems disinterested by my presence. The children, however, are only too inviting. In the short time since my intrusion, the children seem to have identified a winner, and its time for a new game to begin.
Alright, time for an abrupt change. The new game will be Sleeping Bears instead of Sleeping Lions; both involve the same rules but yield a contrast undecipherable to anyone unable to distinguish the roar of a lion from the roar of a bear. My focused study of the group has generated curiosity among my subjects. They perceive my smile as a subtle request to join them. I am only too willing.
Like the other participants, I lie down on the bare concrete and silently await the hunters. With eyes closed, I listen for the other bears to be awoken by the stealthy hunters as they stalk and startle their prey. Peeking only occasionally to assure myself that I am not the only participant left alone on the floor, I wait to receive the due attention of the hunters. Before long, footsteps creep toward me and the ferocious growl of a child comes down upon me. Elated, I open my eyes to stare face to face with a giddy, smiling seven year old boy. He has played well his part in this game, and I am only too happy to be his prey.
For only a moment, my elation is pure and tangible. Not only am I accepted and included, but I have played an integral role in the joy of others. My participation has added something wholly unique to the moment. The game is a better one for my involvement in it, of this I am at once quite certain.
As I rise from my sleeping posture, I notice the walls of the gallery lined with several more adults, just watching and observing the random play before them. They have crept in unnoticed and remained beyond the boundaries of our game. They sit with blank expressions on their faces and exude a sense of disappointment.
This success or this failure.
Soon a fresh group of children arrives in the room, and those I have played with are gone for a break. I am not surprised to learn that the artwork consists only within this gallery. Like the experience of most of Sehgal's work, I exit with more questions than answers.
Let me say very clearly to the skeptical: this piece is not an experiment. But rather, it was a moment, a completely unrepeatable opportunity. Sehgal has offered each visitor either the chance to redeem a small interval of time or the invitation to lose another moment to distant observation.
Fortunately for us, the general ambiguity of his work and the lack of dictated instruction allows each visitor to internalize the opportunity for maximum effect. Without a prescription for success in this interpersonal puzzle, each person must confront their own fears and anxieties in order to learn what they wish to gain or lose from each experience. Sehgal has placed this type of moment under the microscope of careful reflection by constructing these authentic encounters in the gallery. They feel so real because they are, and they are real so that they might have an actual effect on one's daily life.
How many opportunities like these fill our days without us ever engaging them with such introspection? I would guess quite a few of these moments pass us by each day. Most of us have never taken a moment to consider just how isolated we are as individuals in today's complex web of social specialization. Where is the meaningful contact that we all long for? Could it be just beyond the bubble of one's own perceptions of isolation, alienation and loneliness?
To redeem these moments for all the good that God has hidden within them, one must venture a great risk. I must wager my own vulnerability against the potential effects (both positive and negative) of interaction. What is the good news of Jesus' restoration and reconciliation of sinners to God and to one anther if not a promise of hope for such free and honest exchanges? It has taken the giddy smiles of young faces in Sehgal's relational space to help me recall this great truth; no doubt a providential gift to a father awaiting the arrival of his first child.
In this way, perhaps, Sehgal's This Success or This Failure is a poignant emblem of the choice embedded within the contemporary challenges of engaging art. We all want a meaningful experience of art, but how many of us are willing to extend the personal wager it might require to ensure such an experience? It seems that the climate of contemporary art refuses to accommodate the social specializations that sustain our comfortable isolations, and therefore we may need to adjust our own modes of perception and engagement to find a way through.
This problem or this possibility...
Alright, time for an abrupt change. The new game will be Sleeping Bears instead of Sleeping Lions; both involve the same rules but yield a contrast undecipherable to anyone unable to distinguish the roar of a lion from the roar of a bear. My focused study of the group has generated curiosity among my subjects. They perceive my smile as a subtle request to join them. I am only too willing.
Like the other participants, I lie down on the bare concrete and silently await the hunters. With eyes closed, I listen for the other bears to be awoken by the stealthy hunters as they stalk and startle their prey. Peeking only occasionally to assure myself that I am not the only participant left alone on the floor, I wait to receive the due attention of the hunters. Before long, footsteps creep toward me and the ferocious growl of a child comes down upon me. Elated, I open my eyes to stare face to face with a giddy, smiling seven year old boy. He has played well his part in this game, and I am only too happy to be his prey.
For only a moment, my elation is pure and tangible. Not only am I accepted and included, but I have played an integral role in the joy of others. My participation has added something wholly unique to the moment. The game is a better one for my involvement in it, of this I am at once quite certain.
As I rise from my sleeping posture, I notice the walls of the gallery lined with several more adults, just watching and observing the random play before them. They have crept in unnoticed and remained beyond the boundaries of our game. They sit with blank expressions on their faces and exude a sense of disappointment.
This success or this failure.
Soon a fresh group of children arrives in the room, and those I have played with are gone for a break. I am not surprised to learn that the artwork consists only within this gallery. Like the experience of most of Sehgal's work, I exit with more questions than answers.
Let me say very clearly to the skeptical: this piece is not an experiment. But rather, it was a moment, a completely unrepeatable opportunity. Sehgal has offered each visitor either the chance to redeem a small interval of time or the invitation to lose another moment to distant observation.
Fortunately for us, the general ambiguity of his work and the lack of dictated instruction allows each visitor to internalize the opportunity for maximum effect. Without a prescription for success in this interpersonal puzzle, each person must confront their own fears and anxieties in order to learn what they wish to gain or lose from each experience. Sehgal has placed this type of moment under the microscope of careful reflection by constructing these authentic encounters in the gallery. They feel so real because they are, and they are real so that they might have an actual effect on one's daily life.
How many opportunities like these fill our days without us ever engaging them with such introspection? I would guess quite a few of these moments pass us by each day. Most of us have never taken a moment to consider just how isolated we are as individuals in today's complex web of social specialization. Where is the meaningful contact that we all long for? Could it be just beyond the bubble of one's own perceptions of isolation, alienation and loneliness?
To redeem these moments for all the good that God has hidden within them, one must venture a great risk. I must wager my own vulnerability against the potential effects (both positive and negative) of interaction. What is the good news of Jesus' restoration and reconciliation of sinners to God and to one anther if not a promise of hope for such free and honest exchanges? It has taken the giddy smiles of young faces in Sehgal's relational space to help me recall this great truth; no doubt a providential gift to a father awaiting the arrival of his first child.
In this way, perhaps, Sehgal's This Success or This Failure is a poignant emblem of the choice embedded within the contemporary challenges of engaging art. We all want a meaningful experience of art, but how many of us are willing to extend the personal wager it might require to ensure such an experience? It seems that the climate of contemporary art refuses to accommodate the social specializations that sustain our comfortable isolations, and therefore we may need to adjust our own modes of perception and engagement to find a way through.
This problem or this possibility...
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