Say It With Flowers

Michael Taussig, “The Language of Flowers”, Walter Benjamin’s Grave, Chicago: The University of Chicago press, 2006, pp. 189-218.

Michael Taussig makes an intriguing investigation into state instituted violence, the premise of which is aptly displayed in the title of his essay. ‘The Language of flowers’, borrowed from George Bataille’ essay published in the magazine ‘Documents’ in 1929[1], whilst making reference to Walter Benjamin’s ‘Critique of Violence’. Bataille, ‘...was looking for processes in nature that, when framed in a particular manner, made you realize how models drawn from nature surreptitiously formed our thinking. Bataille’ title, “The Language of Flowers,” [...] is itself borrowed from an eighteenth and nineteenth century Western European tradition similar to the Renaissance assumption of Egyptian hieroglyphs as a universal language uniting God with nature. In referencing Benjamin he also states ‘we can also think more precisely of founding violence as this unsteady mix of an art in nature with an art of nature wherein violence becomes authority.’[2]

Taussig displays this inherent violence in nature by referencing the humanizing of flowers. From Echavarria’ photographs of human bones arranged like the botanical drawings of flowers in the exhibition ‘Flower Vase Cut’ referring to the Colombian violencia of the 1940’s, to the botanical illustrations of the Mutis expedition in which we discover that these immaculate renderings are in fact just a representation of nature at the hand of another authority, or what Taussig describes as an art of nature as opposed to the art in nature.

In appearance a flower is on the surface very beautiful, it is only when we look into the disposition of flowers that we discover their true nature. Slavoj Zizek has a colourful analogy, ‘My relationship towards tulips is inherently Lynchian. I think they are disgusting. Just imagine. Aren’t these some kind of, how do you call it, vagina dentata, dental vaginas threatening to swallow you? I think that flowers are something inherently disgusting. I mean, are people aware what a horrible thing these flowers are? I mean, basically it’s an open invitation to all insects and bees, "Come and screw me," you know? I think that flowers should be forbidden to children’[3].

Something more sinister evolves when he broaches the magical properties of the mandrake. ‘Bataille, singled out the mandrake as an example of what the plant world might teach us about the relation of beauty to sex and death’[4]. Historically, ‘It was said that where a man was hanged by the state a white flower might sprout from his ejaculated semen or urine’[5], the mandrake, when carefully extracted possesses the power to tell the future. In producing such a magical plant the state hanged corpse has now been elevated to a ‘wondrous entity capable of restoring life and health in sick people.’[6] Sex (and therefore life) and death are hopelessly entwined, and in this case so is the state.

As farfetched as Tassaug’ historical musings may seem, they are still relevant albeit in an abstract way today. We can attribute that same desire for ‘the mandrake state-execution complex’ to the accidental death of David Carradine in 2009 due to auto-erotic asphyxiation. In regards to the emancipation of the state one only needs to look at the execution of Osama Bin Laden and uncannily Obama even makes the connection himself when watching the raid on his compound. 'It was the longest 40 minutes of my life, with the possible exception of when Sasha got meningitis when she was three months old, and I was waiting for the doctor to tell me that she was all right. It was a very tense situation.’ This followed by relief, as Obama is said to have summed up the mood by uttering, ‘We got him’[7].

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[1] Michael Taussig, “The Language of Flowers”, Walter Benjamin’s Grave, Chicago: The University of Chicago press, 2006, pp. 189-218.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Slavoj Zizek, ‘The Perverts Guide to Cinema.’ Directed by Sophie Fiennes, 2006

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Daily Mail, ‘Watching the raid on Bin Laden's compound live at the White House was 'the longest 40 minutes of my life' says Obama’, May 18 2011. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1384861/Osama-Bin-Laden-dead-Obama-says-compound-raid-longest-40-minutes-life.html#ixzz1MiLFnWyV

Theatre of Cruelty

Fried, Michael, “Art and Objecthood”. Artforum, Vol. V No.10, June 1967, pp 12-23.

Michael Fried discusses Minimalist or ‘literalist art’, as largely ideological in relation to painting and sculpture. That “[ ]... in relation both to modernist painting and modernist sculpture ... literalist art defines or locates the position it aspires to occupy.”[1] He adds, “Painting is here seen as an art on the verge of exhaustion, one in which the range of acceptable solutions to a basic problem – how to organize the surface of a picture – is severely restricted. [ ] The obvious response is to give up working on a single plane in favour of three dimensions”.[2]

Fried’s concerns here are the spatial qualities of literalist art, being not object and furthermore not architecture. As a conjuncture, Fried uses theatre as a reference for how literalist art relates to its audience.  He states “the literalist espousal of objecthood amounts to nothing other than a plea for a new genre of theatre; and theatre is now the negation of art. [ ] Furthermore, the presence of literalist art, which Greenberg was the first to analyse, is basically a theatrical effect or quality – a kind of stage presence. It is a function, not just of the obtrusiveness and, often, even aggressiveness of literalist work, but of the special complicity which that work extorts from the beholder”.[3]

The engagement with the audience that Fried and Greenberg describe here, of the theatrical qualities of literalist art, call to mind what Antonin Artaud was trying to do to theatre back in the 1920’s. “Artaud sought to remove aesthetic distance, bringing the audience into direct contact with the dangers of life. By turning theatre into a place where the spectator is exposed rather than protected, Artaud was committing an act of cruelty upon them”.[4] 

Literalist art is directly related to the human body and therefore is experiential. What separates literalist art from theatre, architecture or any traditional art form is its materiality. The materials at play here are essential to the work itself. The use of industrial materials and techniques for production impart an element of disembodiment in the viewer which is something that literalist art can do and theatre cannot.

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[1] Fried, Michael. “Art and Objecthood”. Artforum, Vol. V No.10, June 1967, pp 12-23

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Jamieson, Lee. “Antonin Artaud: From Theory to Practice”, Greenwich Exchange, 2007, p.23.

A.T.T.I.T.U.D

De Duve, Thierry. “When Form Has Become Attitude – And Beyond” Ed. Zoya Kocur and Simon Leung. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2005. pp.19-31.

Thierry de Duve in his essay “When Form Has Become Attitude – And Beyond” discusses the changes of teaching curriculums throughout the modern (and subsequently post-modern) era with particular emphasis on institutional models presented by the ‘Academy’ and the break from tradition via the avant-garde through the ‘Bauhaus’ and the ‘Black Mountain School’. It is worth noting that de Duve’s critique is firmly rooted in pedagogy and claims that both these teaching models are now obsolete.[1]

De Duve also claims that what he has presented is merely a caricature, ‘of the postulates underlying the teaching of art up until recent years.’ [2] Additionally, his criticism of the two schools is that they failed under the flag of modernism to produce any artists worthy of note[3]. However, it is worth considering the political and socio-economic context under which the new teaching methods and philosophies of these schools have come to be. The Bauhaus was formed in 1919 after Germany was defeated in World War 1. Consequently the school was formed in a harsh economic climate, at the height of modernism and in a period of massive industrialisation. The Black Mountain College practically rose out of the ashes of the Bauhaus after it was pressured to close in 1933 due to the Nazi regime, with some of its teachers after fleeing Europe, going on to teach at the school.

The motivations for breaking with tradition and riding the coat tails of the avant-garde were not so much as to produce masters in the field of the arts, but to operate as a collective to push forward new ideologies, which although technically were rooted in the perfection of crafts, were motivated with the inclusion of all art forms, of which architecture and industrial design were profoundly successful in their influence to this day.

In light of these schools developments, the rejection of tradition was a necessary step in order to move forward and thus provided a model for modernism. As we unconsciously slipped into the new era of post-modernism the question was posed, whether modernism had failed?[4] And where does this leave the soldiers of the new art schools? The idea of talent, as if an artist has been touched by the hand of god, is as dubious as the idea of creativity, that everyone is an artist[5]. Coupled with conceptualism’s attempt at dematerialising the art object thus removing art as a commodity[6], we now live in an era where in terms of what can be considered art, almost anything goes. Therefore it has become necessary for the art school to evolve accordingly, with theory (historical, psychoanalytical etc.) being an ideal canon, not just in terms of teaching, but also in regards to 'arts' engagement with the market. The institution has become not just in the field of fine art but across many vocations a form of quality control. Let’s not forget that art is a business and often a lucrative one at that.

With thanks to Helen Clark as Minister for Arts and Culture from 1999 to 2008, providing a much needed boost to New Zealand’s arts and culture, our art schools now arguably boast the most art students this country has ever seen. Adding to students fees, the potential for government funding according to an artist’s reputation in the form of PBRF’s, (a tongue in cheek example of which can be seen in Dane Mitchells recent bid to sell his PBRF’s to the highest bidding institution on Trade Me) the institution can effectively operate as an enterprise of which can provide the artist as teacher the means of an income and the ability to engage in research to support their practice without the need to rely on the art market for their own remuneration and this is regardless of the student’s outcome after graduation. However it is in the best interests of the institution to provide a good model of education through successful graduates to appear attractive to prospective students and practitioners engaged in research.

In terms of a fine arts curriculum, I have the utmost respect for any person who is willing to educate people in a field which is largely a big can of worms. And however loosely De Duve has diagnosed the issues with art education without promise of a cure, would whole heartedly agree with his premise ‘that the first thing to do was patiently to reconstitute a community of good artists who love art, who respect each other and their students, and who take their tasks as transmitters seriously[7].’ After all the people we meet in art school, students and lecturers alike, are our peers and essentially will be the people who will create the foundations for the future of art and education.

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[1] P. 22 De Duve, Thierry. “When Form Has Become Attitude – And Beyond” Ed. Zoya Kocur and Simon Leung. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2005. pp.19-31.

[2] Ibid

[3] Ibid

[4] Gablick, Suzi. “Has Modernism Failed?” New York, NY: Thames and Hudson, 1984. 1^st ed.

[5] P.26 De Duve, Thierry. “When Form Has Become Attitude – And Beyond” Ed. Zoya Kocur and Simon Leung. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2005. pp.19-31.

[6] Lippard, Lucy R. "Six Years: The Dematerialization of the Art Object from 1966-1927; cross-reference book of information on some aesthetic boundaries ...” New York, Praeger, 1973.

[7] P. 31 De Duve, Thierry. “When Form Has Become Attitude – And Beyond” Ed. Zoya Kocur and Simon Leung. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2005. pp.19-31.