CUJAH Volume IX by The Concordia Undergraduate Journal of Art History (CUJAH)

CONCORDIA UNDERGRADUATE JOURNAL OF ART HISTORY VOLUME IX

The Concordia Undergraduate Journal of Art History is a student-run annual publication that aims to showcase the talents of Concordia Universityâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s undergraduate Art History and Fine Arts students. The CUJAH is composed of an executive committee of editors, copy editors, feature writers, and is assisted by faculty members in the Department of Art History.

006 EDITOR'S NOTE 010 LE MÉDIUM PHOTOGRAPHIQUE EN RAPPORT À SA TECHNIQUE OU LE DIGITAL HYPERMODERNE DU CAS ABU GHRAIB Written by Catherine Bergeron Edited by Ashley Ornawka 030 LE BONHEUR EST UNE PISCINE HORS TERRE: L’HUMOUR ET LE QUOTIDIEN DANS L’OEUVRE DE BGL Written by Marie-Hélène Busque Edited by Erika Couto 046 MAO ZEDONG, THE MASSES, AND THE ART OF CALLIGRAPHY: BIG CHARACTER POSTERS DURING THE CULTURAL REVOLUTION Written by Pamela Churchhill Edited by Katerina Korola 072 THE QUEERING OF ST. SEBASTIAN: RENAISSANCE ICONOGRAPHY AND THE HOMOEROTIC BODY Written by Clinton Glenn Edited by Asieh Harati 094 CATHARSIS AND PURIFICATION IN NEO-BURLESQUE STRIPTEASE Written by Erin Hill Edited by Ashlee Griffiths 6

108 BEING’ AS MATERIAL AND IMMATERIAL Written by Irene Kyritsis Edited by Asieh Harati 126 EPHEMERAL CITY: THE 1893 WORLD'S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION AS GESAMTKUNSTWERK Written by Zoë Ritts Edited by Ashlee Griffiths 142 JANET CARDIFF ET GEORGE BURES MILLER : ALTER BAHNHOF WALK TableVIDEO of Contents Written by Anne-Marie Trépanier Edited by Ashley Ornawka 156 THE TWO SIDES OF MOUNTAIN: THE MORAL DUALITY OF MONTREAL’S CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE Written by Nina Vroemen Edited by Erika Couto 172 BIOGRAPHIES

EDITOR'S NOTE When last year's Editor-in-Chief, Lidia Moranelli, asked me whether I wanted to succeed her, I was originally set to be studying abroad this year - I told her that I'd have to think about it. I thought about it for maybe a day before running back to her to accept the offer. I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but being the "yes" person that I (sometimes unfortunately) am, I couldn't say no to the opportunity that was presenting itself to me. Looking back, I made the right decision. For every day that CUJAH was challenging, frustrating, or unforgiving, there were handfuls of inspiring, motivating, and rewarding days in between. I could not be more pleased and humbled by where we have come, and ultimately, I am excited to know where the journal is going. I have been so fortunate to have been surrounded by such great people this year. 9

Firstly, I want to thank all the Fine Arts students: those who applied to be a part of CUJAH, those who submitted essays, those who signed the petition and those who voted for our fee levy. Thank you to Kyle Goforth for his vision for our design. I thank Ashlee Griffiths, Angela Simone, Ashley Ornawka and Asieh Harati for being dedicated, resilient, and my friends. I send many kind wishes to CUJAH's selected writers, and our Copy Editors. I thank the lovely Amira Shabason, and her many hours of dedication to our online content, as well as our Feature Writers, for continuing to send us great articles. I wholeheartedly thank FASAâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wonderful executives, bookkeeper, and Council, and I also warmly thank CCSL and the Department of Art History for their financial support. I have a special note of gratitude to Erika Couto and Katerina Korola for generally being fantastic, and supportive â&#x20AC;&#x201C; you are my grammatical kindred spirits. Finally, I am so thankful to our faculty advisors and my mentors, Anna Waclawek and Kristina Huneault. Without all of you, there would be no CUJAH. On behalf of the CUJAH team, we also warmly thank our friends, our families, and our partners for the support you have given this student-run initiative. I can only hope that CUJAH's future years continue to be as inspired, dedicated, and strong.

I am so, so proud of you all.

Congratulations. Love, Katrina Caruso Editor-in-Chief CUJAH Volume IX

"IF THERE WERE NO PHOTOGRAPHS, THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN NO ABU GHRAIB."

- Sergent Javal Davis (ayant plaidé coupable à trois chefs d’accusation concernant les abus à la prison d’Abu Ghraib.) 12

LE MÉDIUM PHOTOGRAPHIQUE EN RAPPORT À SA TECHNIQUE OU LE DIGITAL HYPERMODERNE DU CAS ABU GHRAIB Written by Catherine Bergeron Edited by Ashley Ornawka

éalité ou fiction, vérité ou mensonge, objectivité ou subjectivité, les questions soulevées par le médium photographique sont, depuis les débuts, marquées par des problématiques artistiques tout autant qu’éthiques. Qu’elle soit définie, par certains, comme un art à part entière, ou par d’autres, comme un simple instrument pour documenter le réel, la photographie reste avant tout une technique régie par les potentialités de la machine même. Prolongement mécanique de l’œil humain, ce médium essentiellement moderne a ainsi connu de nombreuses évolutions dans sa pratique et ce, en lien direct avec les possibilités offertes par les nouvelles technologies mises en œuvre ainsi qu’avec leurs impacts artistiques, culturels, sociaux et éthiques. En 2004, le scandale des photographies ayant été prises par des soldats à la prison d’Abu Ghraib en Iraq s’est imposé comme une première éthique et médiatique dans l’histoire de la photographie. Le nouveau rapport à la récente invention de la technologie digitale a fait que le cas Abu Ghraib s’est imposé comme une réalité contemporaine, voire hypermoderne, intrinsèquement liée à la société mondiale actuelle. Les photographies d’Abu Ghraib se placent comme l’exemple de cette nouvelle étape photographique ayant créé une rupture profonde avec la photographie analogique. En effet, un rapport véritablement nouveau à l’image et à la représentation se révèle dans le contexte significatif d’une 14

ère marquée par une virtualité profondément hypermoderne. De plus, l’impact de cette nouvelle ère du Web, rendant impossibletoute sphère du privé, a participé au cas Abu Ghraib autant par la transmission directe et globale des données informatiques que par la création perverse d’une relation fantasmatique sadomasochiste à travers les actes photographiques présentés. Comme le relatent de nombreux historiens et théoriciens, la pratique de la photographie en milieu de guerre ne date pas d’hier. Depuis les tout débuts de l’apparition du médium, des photographes expérimentés ont été mobilisés sur les champs de bataille de manière à enregistrer, pour le public, la vue de moments historiques nationaux. Très rapidement, cette machine quasi autonome a pu se passer du talent et des connaissances de praticiens initiés, entraînant les soldats à prendre possession de l’œil mécanique pour capter leur propre réalité. Une grande variété de photographies provenant du domaine militaire privé est maintenant considérée comme un ensemble de documents historiques. Ainsi, depuis la Première Guerre mondiale, de nombreux thèmes ont été fréquemment observés dans le milieu de la photographie de guerre, tels que le tourisme, les événements sociaux entre collègues, l’exotisme, la brutalité militaire, l’humiliation, ou la mort.1 Or, malgré l’histoire relativement établie de la photographie de guerre publique/ privée, le cas Abu Ghraib a frappé le monde entier en tant que moment social, éthique et photographique sans précédent, relevant d’un domaine tout autre. Dans un contexte de propagation de la peur du « terrorisme » et d’une prochaine récidive suite à la date fatidique du 09/11, le gouvernement américain a posé les pieds en Iraq en 2003, prônant une guerre raisonnable et défensive face au gouvernement de Saddam Hussein ayant prétendument des armes de destruction massive. Seulement, quelques mois plus tard, soit en avril 2004, les pho15

tographies de soldats américains de la 372e compagnie et du 320e bataillon de la Police Militaire ayant commis des abus physiques et psychologiques envers des détenus à la prison d’Abu Ghraib ont été présentées en direct au programme 60 minutes de la chaine CBS News.2 Ayant été prises entre le 18 octobre et le 30 décembre 2003, les photographies présentent des actes explicites de violence, de torture, de dégradation sexuelle et psychologique envers les détenus iraquiens. En quelques jours, les photographies ont circulé à travers le monde entier par une propagation assidue à travers les chaînes télévisuelles, les quotidiens papiers et le World Wide Web. La réaction internationale devant de tels actes, de telles photographies, a vite mis en lumière le poids éthique, culturel et historique de cet événement. Selon les différentes approches et visées critiques, les photographies se sont posées comme des matières brûlantes entraînant des interprétations diverses. Comme l’explique Elissa Marder dans un point de vue de documentation, les photographies se placent comme de simples évidences de crimes ayant été commis. Or, en considérant la présence même de la photographie et de son impact symbolique et éthique, une vérité peut être un peu mieux révélée par un transfert de l’événement vers l’action.3 Les photographies d’Abu Ghraib s’imposent donc comme beaucoup plus que de simples évidences de crimes ou de simples trophées de chasse. Devant les concepts théoriques des périodes de la modernité et de la postmodernité, nombre de penseurs se sont positionnés sur l’évolution de l’histoire occidentale à travers le terme d’hypermodernité. Vision théorique ayant culminé dans les années 1990 et 2000, l’hypermodernité se présente comme une étape culturelle marquée par un présentisme outrancier dans lequel l’individu a perdu ses points de repère dans une désillusion liée à l’effet pervers de la chute des grands récits.4 L’hypermodernité se voit 16

être une période de radicalisation où le culte de l’urgence du présentisme marque un besoin d’héroïsation de l’individu banal, n’ayant plus aucune grande morale et ne faisant plus que sa propre éthique. « Société schizophrène prise entre une culture de l’excès et un éloge de la modération», la période actuelle reste donc marquée parun entre-deux d’individualisme outrancier et d’angoisse face à la possibilité d’être seul avec soi- même, poussant l’individu à se forger une fiction personnelle à travers un réseau social.5 Le paroxysme de cette vision se pose, pour ces penseurs, dans le revers ravageur de la technoculture et dans l’excès de rationalisation. Le tueur en série, utilisant la technologie pour mettre en œuvre sa propre éthique, se place comme l’image type de l’hypermodernité actuelle.6 En accord avec cette vision, les actes mêmes commis à Abu Ghraib se posent primairement comme la mise en œuvre d’une éthique personnelle, de laquelle certains soldats ne voient l’immoralité. Mais plus que simplement construire une justice, les actes d’Abu Ghraib atteignent un autre degré de signification dans la captation même de l’acte. Comme l’explique Jacqueline Barus-Michel, « l’homme hypermoderne rêve de se fabriquer lui-même à l’aide de techniques de pointe : non seulement opérer ou réparer, ou même transplanter, mais fabriquer, faire vivre un clone, image d’un moi idéal improbable, purement narcissique et pervers ».7 La montée de la technologie spécifiquement digitale et la création du web a amené l’individu actuel à se construire un autre moi dans le monde du virtuel, allant jusqu’à perdre les points de repère entre réalité et virtualité. «L’homme moderne était un principe, l’homme hypermoderne est une fiction ».8 Les photographies d’Abu Ghraib se voient ainsi être le symptôme de la technologie digitale, détruisant le rapport rationnel de l’homme moral devant la matérialité du réel. La célèbre photographie, maintenant devenue l’une des icônes du cas Abu Ghraib, présentant la torture d’un détenu positionné en 17

Figure 1

signe de croix sur une boîte et rattaché à des fils électriques (Fig. 1) est liée à une série de photographies digitales souvent oubliées. Comme l’explique Errol Morris, le soldat ayant capté l’image célèbre se trouve ensuite lui-même capté par l’appareil d’un confrère, provoquant la création d’une mise en abyme innocente et incontrôlée. « The Hooded Man is a radically modern image, insofar as it shows someone looking at an image instantaneously displayed on a digital camera screen while the “reality” behind that image is seen clearly next to him ».9 L’immédiateté de l’image virtuelle transpose la réalité visible et son horreur dans une virtualité purement réelle dans le domaine du pixel. L’impact dans le monde réel n’y est tout simplement plus. Et les commentaires ultérieurs des soldats sont là pour en témoigner, déclarant que des photographies avaient été prises parce que « It looked funny », ou que « this was not abuse but fun ».10 Prenant l’exemple concret de l’entraînement militaire, Kevin Robins situe le problème de la postphotography dans ce rapport à la virtualité de l’image ravageant la réalité matérielle du monde : « It is as if the simulation has effaced the reality modeled – as if commander and fighter were engaged in mastering a game logic, a computer game, rather than being involved in a bloody, destructive combat ».11 « There is a kind of prevailing depersonalization and de-realization».12 La simulation devient maintenant, d’une certaine manière, plus vraie et plus intéressante que la réalité présente devant les yeux du soldat photographiant le « Hooded Man ». La torture ne devient qu’un jeu, qu’une image dans laquelle il pourrait ultérieurement se projeter, plutôt qu’une réalité dans laquelle il est immédiatement présent. Les photographies d’Abu Ghraib frappent ainsi par leur rapport à un présentisme déréalisé et projeté dans un autre moi virtuel et essentiellement digital. Comme l’a mentionné Sam Provance, un soldat impliqué dans le cas Abu Ghraib : «You see these Iraqi people [...] It is hard to imagine they’re human. They’re just the stock 19

detainee... I always tell people Abu Ghraib was Apocalypse Now meets The Shining ».13 Dans ce récent monde radicalisé et hypermoderne, la photographie digitale se place comme une distance dans laquelle le moi opère un dédoublement fantasmatique qui déréalise le présent. Abu Ghraib opère une rupture avec la pratique de la photographie analogique dans ce rapport inimitable et même précédemment inimaginable à cette nouvelle instance de l’image. Il en reste que l’établissement du « je » dans une virtualité perverse ne renferme pas toutes les clés d’Abu Ghraib. Dans cette hypermodernité où tous souhaitent avoir un « je » individualisé suivant sa propre éthique, un paradoxe se pose dans ce désir insatiable d’un « nous » connexe. Le vingt-et- unième siècle reste profondément défini par la présence imposante des informations vingt-quatre heures sur vingt-quatre, des caméras de surveillance, des GPS, du World Wide Web, et des réseaux sociaux. Le monde technologique et digital actuel trace les lignes d’une impossible sphère du privé. Abu Ghraib est devenu le phénomène connu mondialement par la propagation rapide des images et des commentaires liés à cette ère du digital. L’impact de ces photographies a créé une rupture avec toute potentialité de la photographie analogique par la vue immédiate et globalisée de cette guerre qui était encore loin d’être achevée. Les caméras personnelles portatives de moindre qualité utilisées par les soldats ont produit des images virtuelles pixellisées en format JPEG. La moindre qualité de ces snapshots, utilisant fréquemment le flash intégré, a la potentialité de permettre énormément de stockage. Cette réalité du médium digital a ainsi entraîné la prise de photographies en séries, documentant un événement, un acte, à plusieurs intervalles rapprochés, ce qui a rapidement créé d’énormes bases de données photographiques. Rapidement transformées en fichiers d’ordinateur, les photographies se sont propagées à un rythme effréné entre soldats, allant 20

Figure 2

Figure 3

ensuite être mondialement transmises, au même rythme, lors de leur dénonciation publique. Ce rapport direct à l’image produite se distancie au même titre de la photographie analogique en annihilant tout palier de censure entre l’image et sa transmission. Edouard Gluck, un soldat non lié à l’affaire Abu Ghraib et étant devenu photographe professionnel après avoir quitté l’armée, parle de la différence entre l’analogique et le digital en ces termes : « Using film [...] forces me to think, to compose, to see, whereas digital photography is like sex with a prostitute, they show up and you do it ».14 Mais ce qui reste frappant dans ces images d’Abu Ghraib est que beaucoup de ces images ne semblent pas vivre pour elles-mêmes. En adéquation avec cette virtualité hypermoderne et ce désir du « nous », certaines photographies d’Abu Ghraib frappent en ce qu’elles cherchent une connexion avec celui qui regarde, qui regardera. Elissa Marder, dans son chapitre « On Psycho-Photography: Shame and Abu Ghraib », théorise le fait que plusieurs de ces photographies semblent être prises à la deuxième personne : « They are imprinted with a blatant appeal to the voyeuristic gaze of an implied but hidden viewer ».15 Les actes photographiés sont très précisément mis en scène et créés dans le but d’imposer une humiliation et une torture aux détenus. Or plus qu’opérer primairement une tactique pour obtenir de l’information, les soldats mettent en scène un état de dégradation humaine dans lequel ils se captent en train d’en profiter, d’en jouir. Lié à ce concept de virtualité, l’acte en lui-même ne transmet aucune réelle émotion, aucun réel impact; c’est la vue ultérieure de cet acte, la vue de ce plaisir mis en scène devant l’acte et c’est la présence du fantasme de celui qui regarde qui imposent à ces photographies digitales un caractère profondément pornographique. En ce sens, la photographie où England est vue, souriant à la caméra, une cigarette à la bouche, en train de pointer le sexe d’un détenu ayant été obligé de se masturber (Fig. 2), travaille à partir d’un 22

regard caméra significatif. Le caractère essentiellement sexuel de l’événement mis en scène traduit une vision perverse où le sourire que certains ont défini comme sans émotion aucune semble seulement dire un « I’ve been there » pour le prochain voyeur.16 D’une manière semblable, la photographie de England tenant un détenu par une laisse (Fig. 3) décrit un événement pendant lequel la femme ne semblait ressentir aucune émotion. Or le désir et le besoin de partager cette image crée, avec la photographie digitale, un fantasme sadomasochiste d’être vu et d’être la source d’un désir chez l’autre. In their ritualized and perverse sadomasochistic theatricality, these images address themselves to the complicity of a (future) viewer who lurks behind thecamera’s gaze and in a future moment extends the event horizon of the abusive scenes beyond the frame of the still image [...] Every reproduction of the photograph implies some sort of reproduction of the events depicted in the photograph.17 De cette manière, l’acte même de prendre une photographie de l’individu humilié devient une forme, sinon la forme, de torture. Comme Marder l’explique : « the act of taking the photographs was not intended to expose abuse, but rather was explicitly and actively engaged in it. [...] [It] is not merely a record of torture; it is an act of torture ».18 L’humiliation et la torture, pour le détenu, se posent dans le fait d’être regardé lors d’actes de dégradation, d’être capté immortellement par une image indéfiniment reproductible et de connaître, au présent, la jouissance de certains devant sa propre image, de laquelle il ne possède aucun contrôle. La jouissance hypermoderne des soldats est aussi là : dans cette connaissance de l’impossible sphère du privé de la technoculture digitale, dans la prise de ces images qui sont, avant tout, faites pour être vues. Ces images n’ont pas été créées dans la 23

sphère du privé; elles ont été produites pour être vues ultérieurement par les acteurs des scènes et pour être vues par les complices de ces désirs pornographiques pervers. Elles n’ont peut-être pas été essentiellement conçues dans le but d’être vues mondialement par chacun dans son propre salon, mais est-ce vraiment une conséquence redoutée et dommageable? En appliquant le concept théorique de l’hypermodernité, le phénomène des photographies d’Abu Ghraib se pose comme le symptôme d’un médium essentiellement digital. Par sa matérialité et son impact social, culturel, et éthique, la photographie digitale s’incruste dans une ère de radicalisation outrancière d’une technoculture prise entre individualisme et réseautage. En tant que cause et conséquence, l’ère du digital place le soldat d’Abu Ghraib dans une déréalisation et une dépersonnalisation de l’acte commis, venant à vivre par procuration dans une virtualité sans contrainte. D’une même manière, le rapport étroit que la photographie digitale entretient avec le besoin de diffusion des images privées dans la sphère publique a imprégné le scandale Abu Ghraib d’une problématique éthique quant à la jouissance même d’enregistrer un acte de torture. La photographie laissant voir un soldat en train de regarder la virtualité plutôt que la réalité devant soi, ou encore les photographies offrant regards et sourires à la caméra laissent entrevoir des clés pour comprendre l’impact totalement nouveau du scandale Abu Ghraib. À travers toutes les implications éthiques, artistiques, et profondément humaines de ces éléments, la complexité du jugement posé sur cet événement est évoquée dans la question ayant été posée par plusieurs : Est-ce les actes présentés à travers les images ou le fait même d’avoir pris des photographies de ces actes qui constitue un crime immoral? À travers cette histoire établie de la photographie publique et privée de guerre, les photographies prises à Abu Ghraib en 2003 constituent un événement sans précédent. 24

C’est précisément dans le rapport étroit avec la technologie du digital que de telles images ont pu être imaginées et créées autant matériellement qu’éthiquement. L’impossibilité de se projeter instantanément dans un monde virtuel et l’impossibilité de rejoindre l’Autre dans la sphère publique, tout aussi instantanément, par l’éclatement de la sphère privée gravent dans le médium analogique des limites technologiques immuables par rapport à la technologie digitale. S’il n’y avait pas eu de photographie digitale, il n’y aurait pas eu d’Abu Ghraib.

END NOTES 1 Janina Struk, “Preface”, Private Pictures : Soldiers’ Inside View of War (New York; London : I.B. Tauris, 2011), 15. 2 La 372e compagnie et le 320e bataillon de la Police Militaire sont deux unités des forces armées américaines, basées respectivement au Maryland et en Pennsylvanie. Le département de la Police Militaire est officiellement affecté au maintien de l’ordre, de la discipline et de la sécurité à l’intérieur des forces armées. 3 Elissa Marder, “Part One: Chapter Five: On PsychoPhotography: Shame and Abu Ghraib,” The Mother in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction: Psychoanalysis, Photography, Deconstruction (New York : Fordham University Press, 2012), 97-103. 4 Philosophie voulant que le passé et le futur n’existent pas. Culte du moment présent.; Concept associé à la pensée de Jean-François Lyotard et plus spécifiquement, à son œuvre La Condition postmoderne (1979). Ce concept réfère à une période historique marquée par la fin du pouvoir hégémonique et des grandes croyances universelles de la modernité. Lyotard parle d’un moment de crise des idéaux entrainant la mise en place d’une pluralité de discours. 5 Sébastien Charles, “Lettre 1 : Réponse à la Question : Qu’Est-Ce Que l’Hypermoderne?” in L’hypermodernité Expliqué aux Enfants (Montréal: Liber, 2007), 21. 6 Thierry Jandrok, “6. Du Mythe à la Culture de Masse: l’Exemple des Etats-Unis,” in Tueurs En Série (Paris: Rouge profond, 2009), 149-159. 7 Jacqueline Barus-Michel, “L’hypermodernité, Dépassement ou Perversion de la Modernité?” in L’Individu Hypermoderne, ed. Nicole Aubert (Agne: Erès, 26

2004), 241. 8 Ibid., 242. 9 Errol Morris, “Chapter Two : Will the Real Hooded Man Please Stand-Up?”, Believing Is Seeing (Observations on the Mysteries of Photography) (New York: Penguin Press, 2011), 10 91. Lynndie England quoted in Janina Struk, “Chapter One: Outrage at Abu Ghraib,” Private Pictures: Soldiers’ Inside View of War (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2011), 1; Haim Bresheeth, “Projecting Trauma: War Photography and the Public Sphere”. Third Text 20.1 (2006): 69, accessed November 20, 2012. <http://0-web. ebscohost.com.mercury.concordia.ca/ehost/search/ advanced?sid=a4408100-9f2c- 4e7d9829a5c55189 d45f%4 0sessionmgr12&vid=2&hid=17>. 11 Concept théorique faisant référence à l’ère de la photographie digitale et aux caractéristiques uniques de cette nouvelle technologie en opposition à la photographie analogique. Pour plusieurs de ces théoriciens, les possibilités nouvelles de prise photographique, de manipulation visuelle, d’entreposage et de transmission de données ont entrainé un état dépassant la notion primaire de « photographie.» ; Kevin Robins, “The Virtual Unconscious in Postphotography,” Electronic Culture: Technology and Visual Representation, ed. Timothy Druckrey (New York: Aperture, 1996), 158. 12 Hanna Segal quoted, Ibid., 162. 13 Sam Provance quoted in Janina Struk, “Chapter One: Outrage at Abu Ghraib,” Private Pictures: Soldiers’ Inside View of War (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2011), 7. 14 Edouard Gluck quoted in Janina Struk, “Chapter Eight: The Inside View of War,” Private Pictures: Soldiers’ Inside 27

View of War (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2011), 159. 15 Elissa Marder, “Part One: Chapter Five: On PsychoPhotography: Shame and Abu Ghraib,” The Mother in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction: Psychoanalysis, Photography, Deconstruction (New York: Fordham University Press, 2012), 101. 16 Haim Bresheeth, “Projecting Trauma: War Photography and the Public Sphere,” Third Text 20.1 (2006):68, accessed November 20, 2012. <http://0- web. ebscohost.com.mercury.concordia.ca/ehost/search/ advanced?sid=a4408100-9f2c-4e7d9829a5c55189 d45f%4 0sessionmgr12&vid=2&hid=17>. 17 Elissa Marder, “Part One: Chapter Five”, 101. 18 Ibid., 100-103.

WORKS CITED Barus-Michel, Jacqueline. “L’Hypermodernité, Dépassement ou Perversion de la Modernité?” In L’Individu Hypermoderne, edited by Nicole Aubert, 239-248. Ramonville-Saint Agne: Erès, 2004. Bresheeth, Haim. “Projecting Trauma: War Photography and the Public Sphere.” Third Text 20.1 (2006):57-71. Accessed November 20, 2012.<http://0- web.ebscohost.com.mercury.concordia.ca/ ehost/search/advanced?sid=a4408100-9f2c-4e7d- 9829a5c55189d 45f%40sessionmgr12&vid=2&hid=17>. Charles, Sébastien. “Lettre 1: Réponse à la Question: Qu’Est-Ce Que l’Hypermoderne?” In L’Hypermoderne Expliqué Aux Enfants, 11-22. Montréal: Liber, 2007. 28

Grundberg, Andy. “Point and Shoot: How the Abu Ghraib Images Redefine Photography.” American Scholar 74.1(2005):105-109. Accessed November 20, 2012. <http://0web.ebscohost.com.mercury. concordia.ca/ehost/search/advanced?sid=a44081009f2c4e7 d9829 a5c55189d45f%40sessionmgr12&vid=2&hid=17>. Jandrok, Thierry. “6. Du Mythe à la Culture de Masse: L’Exemple des Etats-Unis.” In Tueurs En Série, 129-159. Paris: Rouge profond, 2009. Marder, Elissa. “Part One: Chapter Five: On Psycho-Photography: Shame and Abu Ghraib.” In The Mother in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction: Psychoanalysis, Photography, Deconstruction, 91110. New York: Fordham University Press, 2012. Morris, Errol. Believing Is Seeing (Observations on the Mysteries of Photography). New York: Penguin Press, 2011. Robins, Kevin. “The Virtual Unconscious in Postphotography.” In Electronic Culture: Technology and Visual Representation, edited by Timothy Druckrey, 154-163. New York: Aperture, 1996. Salon Staff. “The Abu Ghraib Files.” Salon Media Group Inc. March 14, 2006. Accessed January 26, 2013. <http://www.salon.com/ topic/the_abu_ghraib_files/>. Struk, Janina. Private Pictures: Soldiers’ Inside view of War. New York: I.B. Tauris, 2011.

LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1: Photographie potentiellement prise SPC Sabrina Harman. Staff Sergeant Ivan Frederick est présent à droite de l’image. Il tient, dans ses mains, une caméra digitale. La photographie aurait été prise le 4 novembre 2003 à 11:04 pm. <http://www.salon.com/2006/03/14/chapter_4/slide_show/20>. Dernière consultation le 26 janvier 2013. Figure 2: Photographie potentiellement prise par Caporal Charles Graner. PFC Lynndie England est présente sur l’image, pointant le sexe du détenu. La photographie aurait été prise le 8 novembre 2003, à 12:14 am. <http://www.salon.com/2006/03/14/chapter_6/ slide_show/27>. Dernière consultation le 26 janvier 2013. Figure. 3: Photographie potentiellement prise par Caporal Charles Graner. PFC Lynndie England tient la laisse attachée au coup du détenu. SPC Ambuhl regarde la scène, à gauche de l’image. La photographie aurait été prise le 24 octobre 2003, à 8:16 pm. <http://www.salon.com/2006/03/14/chapter_2/slide_show/3>. Dernière consultation le 26 janvier 2013.

REPRENANT DES OBJETS DE LA VIE QUOTIDIENNE, BGL TRANSFORME CES RÉSULTATS D’UNE SOCIÉTÉ DE CONSOMMATION EN DÉRISION. EN CHERCHANT À TROUBLER LE VISITEUR, BGL PROPOSE UNE CRITIQUE DU MODE DE VIE NORD-AMÉRICAIN ET UNE RÉFLEXION QUANT À LA DÉGRADATION DE L’ENVIRONNEMENT PAR L’HOMME. 32

LE BONHEUR EST UNE PISCINE HORS TERRE: L’HUMOUR ET LE QUOTIDIEN DANS L’OEUVRE DE BGL Written by Marie-Hélène Busque Edited by Erika Couto

’abord jugé vulgaire et trivial, le quotidien fascine et apparait maintenant comme la conclusion logique d’une traditionnelle volonté d’unir art et vie. En effet, la notion de travailler avec ou à partir de la réalité dans laquelle nous vivons marque profondément l’art actuel québécois.1 Il n’est plus rare de voir des artistes utiliser, réutiliser ou même recycler des objets de la vie quotidienne dans leur création. Toutefois, l’utilisation des objets de la vie de tous les jours demande plus d’engagement de la part du public, tant la réalité et l’art se confondent. Depuis la fin des années 1990, le collectif d’artistes BGL, formé de Jasmin Bilodeau (né à Lac- Mégantic en 1973), Sébastien Giguère (né à Arthabaska en 1972) et Nicolas Laverdière (né à Québec en 1972), examine quelques aspects de la vie sociale comme les excès de consommation, leurs conséquences et leurs paradoxes. Les trois artistes se sont rencontrés à l’École des arts visuels de l’Université Laval et ils retiennent l’attention de la critique lors de l’exposition des finissants de 1996 grâce à leur humour, leur rigueur et leur audace.2 Six ans plus tard, le trio accumule résidences et expositions solo.3 Chouchous de l’installation au Québec, BGL a su s’imposer comme étant la relève à surveiller.4 Reprenant des objets de la vie quotidienne, BGL transforme ces résultats d’une société de consommation en dérision. En cherchant à troubler le visiteur, BGL propose 34

une critique du mode de vie Nord-Américain et une réflexion quant à la dégradation de l’environnement par l’homme. Dans le travail qui suit, nous étudierons comment BGL utilise l’humour et l’ironie afin de détourner des objets du quotidien à la dérision, à des fins de critiques écologiques et sociales. Nous analyserons trois œuvres de BGL, soit Perdu dans la nature (1999), Jouet d’adulte (2003) et Arctic Power (2008) en employant le concept de l’ironie selon Nathalie Heinich et les théories de l’espace pratiqué de Michel De Certeau. ́tant un acronyme de la première lettre de leur patronyme, le nom BGL permet de garder un certain anonymat pour ses membres et rappelle le même genre d’acronymes que certaines entreprises utilisent comme nom.5 Effectivement, le fait que les parties constituantes s’effacent au profit du tout, d’une entité ressemblant à une compagnie, semble être en accord avec leur objectif de critiquer la société de consommation.6 Par ailleurs, le trio signe chacune de leurs œuvres d’un logo comprenant l’année de création et le nom du collectif, inscrits dans un cercle.7 Ils expliquent leur aspiration à la critique sociale ainsi : Nous comptons réaliser une œuvre qui rejoint des préoccupations sociales et humanitaires, et qui jette un regard évocateur sur les sociétés dont nous faisons partie. Pour ce faire, nous nous servons d’images simples et familières, car, pour amener les gens à porter un regard différent sur l’environnement dans lequel ils évoluent tous les jours, nous croyons qu’il faut partir du quotidien, du tangible. Cependant, le but de nos installations n’est pas de reproduire les objets tels quels, mais bien de créer un écart qui invite à la contemplation et à une prise de conscience. 8

BGL crée des environnements artificiels dans 35

leurs œuvres in situ, caractéristiques de notre époque et de ses préoccupations écologiques.9 Faites de réappropriations de matériaux recyclés, de bricolages, d’assemblages et d’accumulations, leurs œuvres portent une réflexion sur les tendances destructrices de l’homme envers son environnement et posent des questions sur le monde post-industriel. Les installations de BGL leurrent le visiteur en utilisant l’humour afin de véhiculer un message à caractère social et écologique. En effet, BGL est préoccupé principalement par la société de surconsommation, le gaspillage et de leurs impacts sur l’environnement.10 Leur esthétique ludique est leur signature, mais sert surtout à amener le visiteur à porter un regard critique sur l’idéal du bonheur véhiculé par notre société de consommation.11 Impressionnante installation qui comprend des répliques à l’échelle d’une piscine hors- terre et d’une Mercedes-Benz décapotable faites de bois de grange recyclé, Perdu dans la nature (1999) (Fig. 1) jette un regard acerbe sur la vie de banlieue.12 En effet, la piscine et la voiture de luxe, symboles d’une américanité grandissante, sont la définition d’une vie bourgeoise. Ici, l’objet n’a plus d’importance. Il laisse tout la place aux comportements qu’il engendre.13 Reprenant certains paradigmes du Pop Art, cette installation propose une critique de la culture et de la consommation de masse. Si d’un côté le Pop Art étudie la société de consommation en représentant des objets banals et sériels, BGL superpose le produit industriel à l’art artisanal. En effet, le visiteur est dérouté par cette version « fait main » de la voiture de luxe et d’une piscine hors-terre, symboles des banlieues québécoises.14 Cette ironie quant à la matérialité de l’œuvre prend racine dans la dichotomie entre les objets industriels de consommation ostentatoire et l’esthétique traditionnelle du travail de charpenterie. De plus, ces deux symboles familiers, la piscine et la voiture, racontent l’histoire d’une vie de banlieue. Le lieu créé par l’installation, ressemblant à 36

des centaines de lieux identiques dans le paysage Québécois, pourrait rappeler à certains leurs propres expériences, leurs propres narrations de ces lieux communs. Selon la théorie de Michel De Certeau dans son essai Récits d’Espace, un lieu ne devient qu’espace que lorsque le marcheur l’a exploré, l’a investi de sa propre narration.15 Un espace est donc nécessairement un lieu pratiqué. Imitant ainsi un lieu pratiqué par bon nombre de visiteurs, Perdu dans la nature signale avec humour un certain embourgeoisement et ses paradoxes.16 « Pense juste au fait d’avoir un faux lac dans ta cour, entouré d’une pelouse régulière. C’est un univers bizarre, à bien y penser, qui fait partie de nos préoccupations depuis longtemps. » explique Jasmin Bilodeau.17 Sébastien Giguère, quant à lui, nous démontre que l’œuvre fait aussi référence à « [...] l’idée de voyeurisme au comportement exhibitionniste du citadin faisant étalage de ses biens. »18 Symboles d’une réussite financière et professionnelle et d’une vie familiale confortable et contrôlée, les biens matériels sont exhibés afin de les comparer. Lorsque l’existence est réduite à une accumulation d’objets, n’est-ce pas là le signe que nous sommes, nous-mêmes, perdus dans la nature? Nature qui d’ailleurs est représentée ici de façon contrôlée et figée.19 En effet, cet environnement factice n’a pas de fonction mimétique. La voiture et la piscine hors-terre de bois sont bien loin de la réalité. Et que dire de la pelouse régulière, faite de bâtonnets de bois peints vert pomme. Cette apparence explicitement fausse créée comme un malaise chez le visiteur, un effet de distanciation tant le lieu est étrange. Ce trouble est rapidement suivi de rires, car le génie absurde du trio ne manque pas d’autodérision.20 Perdu dans la nature a « [...] fait en sorte que l’art de BGL a été largement compris comme un regard critique sur la société de consommation »21 ̀ la limite entre « [...] l’ordure et la sculpture [...]», Jouet d’adulte (2003) (Fig. 2) est un objet ambigu.22 Après avoir exploré les possibilités que leur offrait la liberté de 37

Figure 1

Figure 2

Figure 3

tout fabriquer dans leurs installations, les artistes de BGL se penchent sur la notion de l’objet trouvé et de la réaction qu’il créé chez le visiteur.23 Jouet d’adulte représente un véhicule tout-terrain (recyclé) transpercé de flèches et renversé sur le sol où une plaque de bois peint en noir et verni imite le carburant qui s’en écoule. Les quatre fers en l’air, Jouet d’adulte reste gisant sur le sol comme une bête que l’on viendrait d’abattre. Faisant référence à la tradition de la chasse au Québec, l’œuvre de BGL présente le véhicule tout-terrain (un véhicule extrêmement polluant) de manière anthropomorphique. Il devient la proie du chasseur. Si l’œuvre provoque le rire chez le visiteur, c’est dû à son ton hautement ironique. Selon Nathalie Heinich dans Le Triple Jeu de l’Art Contemporain, l’ironie naît de « [...] la vulnérabilité transformationnelle des cadres [...]. »24 Heinich considère par exemple, que lorsqu’un objet trivial est présenté comme un œuvre d’art, on perturbe le « cadre primaire » de l’expérience du visiteur et du mode de représentation (mise en scène, esthétique, etc.). Cette perturbation oblige le visiteur à lire l’œuvre au second degré et de jouer le jeu, malgré lui, avec l’artiste, qui chasse toute possibilité de réaction sérieuse.25 En effet, le décalage entre le contexte et l’objet proposé par BGL rend Jouet d’adulte ludique et satirique, ridicule et sublime. En effet, cette installation cause le même vertige, la même angoisse face au sublime, car son discours est assez sombre et direct: l’homme doit se questionner sur la façon dont il exploite et pollue la nature et doit réviser sa consommation excessive. Le message est d’autant plus résonnant chez le visiteur vu qu’il fait référence à quelque chose qu’il connaît, qui lui est familier. Suivant le même filon apporté par Jouet d’adulte, BGL a ensuite créé une installation- sculpture intitulée Arctic Power (2008) (Fig. 3). Cette motoneige suspendue au plafond, recouverte de flocons blancs, imitant de la neige ou du givre, représente une variation sur le thème du véhicule 41

de loisir devenu trophée de chasse.26 En effet, la machine est une fois de plus représentée comme victime. Anthropomorphisée au possible, la soudaine vulnérabilité de cette motoneige, habituellement vrombissante, frôle l’absurde. Cette machine gigantesque, recouverte d’un frimas blanc, flottant dans l’espace d’exposition à quelque chose de sublime. La même crainte que Jouet d’adulte est causée ici d’une part par la référence au réchauffement climatique dû à des véhicules tels que la motoneige, et d’une autre par son simple gigantisme. Toutefois, selon le trio, Arctic Power exprime davantage. C’est une carcasse exposée comme on le ferait avec un fossile d’une autre époque.28 En effet, un véhicule comme celui-ci, condamné à l’obsolescence, est montré ici comme un artefact archaïque, comme un squelette de mammifère préhistorique. Cette impression est renforcée grâce à la mouche morte incrustée dans le revers de la motoneige, qui donne à l’œuvre une véritable qualité organique.28 Comme Perdu dans la nature et Jouet d’adulte, Arctic Power est à cheval entre excès destructeur et autodérision.29 Cette installation amène à réfléchir sur le monde, le quotidien et invite à y poser un regard critique. En utilisant un item de tous les jours, en l’occurrence une motoneige, BGL brouille les limites entre les valeurs commerciales et sentimentales d’une société obsédée par l’objet.30 BGL joue, non sans humour, sur la question des limites de l’art et de la culture en utilisant des objets du quotidien pour ensuite les détourner.31 Cependant, comme ces objets du quotidien n’apparaissent pas sous leur véritable forme, une distance se créé avec le visiteur pour un bref instant. Déstabilisé, il se rend ensuite compte de ce qu’il voit. C’est lors de cet instant de déséquilibre que l’humour de BGL se révèle au visiteur. Pour BGL, le quotidien est un jeu.

END NOTES 1 Marie Fraser, « La subversion des objets, » Art Québécois et Canadien : La Collection du Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal Tome I. Dir. Jacques Desrochers, (Montréal : Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal, 2011) 368. 2 Lisanne Nadeau et Musée du Québec, 4 Installations Pour Le Grand Hall Du Musée Du Québec (Québec: Musée du Québec, 2003) 30. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid., 31. 6 Ibid., 30. 7 Anne-Marie Ninacs et Catherine Dean, BGL, (Québec: Manifestation international d’art de Québec, 2009) 13. 8 Ibid., 14. 9 Sandra Grant Marchand, Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal, et BGL, BGL: à l'Abri Des Arbres (Montréal: Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal, 2001) 4. 10 Ibid. 11 Julie Bélisle et al, Basculer: BGL, Sébastien Cliche, Claudie Gagnon, Philomène Longpré, Yann Pocreau (Montréal: Galerie de l'UQAM, 2008), 68. 12 Nathalie Côté, «BGL : Perdu dans la nature,» Espace Sculpture 47 (1999): 25. 13 Lisanne Nadeau et Musée du Québec, 4 Installations Pour Le Grand Hall Du Musée Du Québec (Québec: Musée du Québec, 2003) 31. 14 Ibid. 15 Michel De Certeau, « Récits d’Espace, » L’invention du quotidien : L’Art de Faire (Paris : 43

Gallimard, 1991), 208. 16 Nathalie Côté, «BGL : Perdu dans la nature,» Espace Sculpture 47 (1999), 25. 17 Anne-Marie Ninacs et Catherine Dean, BGL, (Québec: Manifestation international d’art de Québec, 2009) 11. 18 Ibid., 12. 19 Ibid., 11. 20 Nathalie Côté, «BGL : Perdu dans la nature,» Espace Sculpture 47 (1999), 25. 21 21 Anne-Marie Ninacs et Catherine Dean, BGL (Québec: Manifestation international d’art de Québec, 2009), 13. 22 Ibid., 54. 23 Ibid. 24 Nathalie Heinich, « Interrogations : Ironies, » Le Triple Jeu de l’Art Contemporain (Paris : Les Éditions de Minuit, 1998), 187. 25 Ibid. 26 Marie Fraser, « La subversion des objets, » Art Québécois et Canadien : La Collection du Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal Tome I. Dir. Jacques Desrochers (Montréal : Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal, 2011), 368. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid. 29 Canadian Art, « BGL : Posterity, Pranskter-Style, » Canadian Art (October 22 2009), www.canadianart.ca/seeit/2009/10/22/bgl-2. 30 Nicolas Mavrikakis, « Le Trio Fantastique : Chasse-galerie? » Voir (19 janvier 2006), http://voir.ca/arts-visuels/2006/01/19/ le-trio-fantastique-chasse-galerie/. 31 Centre de sculpture Est-Nord-Est, La Cueillette (Saint-JeanPort-Joli: Centre Est-nord-Est,2000), 6. 44

WORK CITED Bélisle, Julie, et al. Basculer: BGL, Sébastien Cliche, Claudie Gagnon, Philomène Longpré, Yann Pocreau. Montréal, Québec: Galerie de l'UQAM, 2008. Canadian Art. « BGL : Posterity, Pranskter-Style. » Canadian Art (October 22 2009). www.canadianart.ca/see-it/2009/10/22/bgl-2 Centre de sculpture Est-Nord-Est. La Cueillette. Saint-Jean-PortJoli: Centre Est-nord-Est, 2000. Côté, Nathalie. « BGL : Perdu dans la nature. » Espace Sculpture 47 (1999): 25-27. De Certeau, Michel. « Récits d’Espace. » L’invention du quotidien : L’Art de Faire. Paris : Gallimard, 1991. 205-226. Fraser, Marie. « La subversion des objets.» Art Québécois et Canadien : La Collection du Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal Tome I. Dir. Jacques Desrochers. Montréal : Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal, 2011. 368-371. Grant Marchand, Sandra, Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal, et BGL. BGL: à l'Abri Des Arbres. Montréal: Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal, 2001. Heinich, Nathalie. « Interrogations : Ironies. » Le Triple Jeu de l’Art Contemporain. Paris : Les Éditions de Minuit, 1998. 186-188. Mavrikakis, Nicolas. « Le Trio Fantastique : Chasse-galerie ? » Voir (19 janvier 2006). http://voir.ca/arts-visuels/2006/01/19/letrio-fantastique-chasse-galerie/ 45

Nadeau, Lisanne, et Musée du Québec. 4 Installations Pour Le Grand Hall Du Musée Du Québec. Québec: Musée du Québec, 2003. Ninacs, Anne-Marie et Catherine Dean. BGL. Québec: Manifestation international d’art de Québec, 2009.

LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1: BGL, Perdu dans la nature. Installation en bois trouvé, 400 pieds carrés, 1999. Collection du Musée National des beaux-arts du Québec. Crédit photographique : Mackenzie Art Gallery. Avec l’autorisation de BGL. Figure 2: BGL, Jouet d’adulte. Véhicule tout-terrain d’occasion, flèches, bois, peinture, 115 x 110 x 170 cm (approx.), 2003. Collection du Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal. Crédit photographique: Guy L’Heureux. Avec l’autorisation de BGL. Figure 3: BGL, Arctic Power. Motoneige accidentée, sel, sucre, peinture blanche, flocon de velours blanc et colle, 335 x 122 x 91 cm (approx.), 2008. Collection du Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal. Crédit photographique : Guy L’Heureux. Avec l’autorisation de BGL.

MAO MADE FULL USE OF HIS IMAGE AS A TRADITIONAL LITERATI SCHOLAR, EMPHASIZING HIS POETRY AND CALLIGRAPHY AND LENDING AUTHORITY AND HISTORICAL LEGITIMACY TO HIS ROLE AS A SAGACIOUS RULER.

MAO ZEDONG, THE MASSES, AND THE ART OF CALLIGRAPHY: BIG CHARACTER POSTERS DURING THE CULTURAL REVOLUTION Written by Pamela Churchhill Edited by Katerina Korola

n the tumult of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, the art of calligraphy experienced a revolution of its own. The traditional cursive scripts once utilized by the literati were abandoned in favour of simplified scripts to be employed by the population at large. Big-character posters, or dazibao, papered the streets of urban spaces, work units, and residential areas. Illustrated in bold characters, Maoist slogans and denunciations embodied the Maoist principle, â&#x20AC;&#x153;it is right to rebel.â&#x20AC;?1 Since the Maoist faction both promoted their goals on the big-character poster and encouraged the masses to do the same, an overwhelming rhetoric of revolution was expounded from all levels of society.2 However, even as the brush became a tool of the masses, Mao solidified his authority by exploiting the traditional practice of calligraphy.3 Over the course of the Cultural Revolution, the big-character poster provided a space for reciprocal communication between the Maoist authorities and the masses. The medium transformed the art of calligraphy from a practice of the elite to a revolutionary weapon of the people. Nonetheless, it also served as a means for Mao Zedong to bolster his cult of personality by appropriating the traditional indexicality of calligraphy. Following Maoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s death and the end of the Cultural Revolution in 1976, the big-character poster would be increasingly used to express overt dissent. The legacy of the big-character poster continues to weigh on contemporary 50

Chinese visual culture, figuring prominently in the work of contemporary artists as a means to come to terms with the turmoil of the recent past.4 THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE BIG-CHARACTER POSTER The tradition of posting big-character posters is situated within a long history of political propaganda and dissent in China. Since the imperial era, posters were used by the central powers to communicate edicts, pronouncements and warnings to the periphery.5 In addition, unofficial posters were frequently employed by scholars and students in order to bring their grievances to the attention of the central authorities. East Asian scholar and historian Goran Leijonhufvud explains in Going Against the Tide that according to both the Mandate of Heaven and Confucian philosophy, the people’s criticisms are considered valid when expressed in the ruler’s interest, and as a result, many emperors spoke “in favour of the tradition of criticism.”6 Unofficial posters tended to follow the lines of ‘loyal dissent,’ calling not for the overthrow of the government but for reform to improve China’s unity. Nonetheless, over the course of Chinese history such avenues of free speech have often met with restrictions once the criticism is deemed too destructive.7 During the twentieth century, this ebb and flow of freedom can be charted in the medium of the big-character poster. Posters were first employed as a form of dissent against the Communist Party in 1942 when a young communist scholar, Wang Shiwei, hung a poster criticizing party leaders for their repressive response to dissent. Wang was arrested soon after and beheaded in 1947. Although once the big-character poster was officially condoned, Mao would express his regret for Wang’s death, as the Community Party struggled for power during this early period, such freedom 51

of speech was off-limits.8 Scholars argue that the first large scale use of the big-character poster as we recognize it today was during the Hundred Flowers Campaign of 1957 when the authorities solicited intellectuals for criticisms of the socialist system.9 Peking University students erected big- character posters on campus where they stated their grievances, but the campaign was met with a swift crackdown, resulting in the incarceration of many intellectuals. Nevertheless, the Hundred Flowers Campaign demonstrated to Mao the potential of the big-character poster as a political tool. Later that year, Mao declared the big-character poster an “instrument [that] favours the proletariat, not the bourgeoisie” and encouraged its adoption by the people to spark debate in ways helpful to the socialist project.10 At this time, he saw that among an educated population, the big-character poster could serve as an effective way to disseminate information and rouse revolutionary fervor. Consequently, the medium reemerged during the Cultural Revolution, this time in support of both the authorities and the masses.11 OFFICIAL AND UNOFFICIAL BIG-CHARACTER POSTERS DURING THE CULTURAL REVOLUTION Scholars have referred to the Cultural Revolution as a “dazibao movement” due to the importance of the bigcharacter poster as a political and social catalyst.12 In the wake of the disastrous Great Leap Forward in the late-1950s, Mao Zedong was forced to recede from the public eye, leaving Liu Shaoqi to take his place. As Guo Jian explains in “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China,” Mao incessantly feared “the growth of the new bourgeoisie [i.e., revisionism within the Party],” and as a result, attempted to reclaim his power through the Cultural Revolution.13 Since the opposing political faction had control over both the propaganda 52

department and the media, Mao turned to the medium of the big-character poster in order to express his own revolutionary goals and he encouraged the masses to do the same.14 Two specific events at the beginning of the Revolution defined the big-character poster as a medium to be used by both the authorities and the masses. The first of these events was the erection of the first “Marxist-Leninist Big-Character Poster” at Beijing University on the 25th of May, 1966, written by Nie Yuanzi and six other members of the Department of Philosophy. The poster criticized the University President Lu Ping for suppressing revolutionary student activity. In addition to this criticism, it called upon the people to weed out counterrevolutionaries from society and to align with the movement’s leader, Chairman Mao. The lengthy poster concluded with a call to arms: To all revolutionary intellectuals, now is the time to fight. Let us unite and raise high the great flag of Mao Zedong’s Thought. Let us unite under the leadership of the Central Party Committee and Chairman Mao. [Let us] expose all kinds of plots and monstrous tactics and controls. [Let us] annihilate all the monsters and demons completely, thoroughly, and entirely; annihilate all Khruschev-like revisionists, and carry out until the end the socialist revolution!15 Soon after this event, Mao publicly proclaimed his support for Nie Yuanzi’s aggressive poster by announcing, “how well written was the nation’s first Marxist-Leninist wall poster and the commentary from the People’s Daily,” which led to an outpouring of posters created by Red Guards. The President of the University was quickly ousted from her position.16 The second of these defining moments was the erection of Mao’s personally written big- character poster in a residential area where many top officials lived. It 53

read: “Bombard the Capitalist Headquarters: My First BigCharacter Poster,” and was both an attack on Liu Shaoqi’s government and an invitation for the people to critique the opposing faction, from the highest echelons of the Communist government to the lowest peasant.17 From this point forward, the streets of urban spaces and villages alike would be flooded with big-character posters. Verbal debates frequently took place in the vicinity of these posters, as well as selfcriticism sessions. Regular interaction with the big-character poster became in itself an indication of revolutionary spirit. In Kwong’s Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, a former Red Guard explains that one had to read and erect big-character posters because “otherwise you would not be revolutionary.”18 These two early posters set the tone for the thousands that followed. The vast majority of dazibao during this period featured either denunciations or praise of Maoist thought, phrased in strong, violent language, and often framed in metaphors of war. Xing Lu explains in Rhetoric of the Cultural Revolution that dazibao were “heralded as the best fighting form for the revolutionary masses.”19 The brush was to be wielded by the people as a revolutionary tool and the slogan, “pick up your brush to use as a weapon, concentrate your firepower to sweep away the ‘Black Party,’” was taken up by all levels of society.20 Although supposedly a space for free speech, bigcharacter posters were primarily used to promote conformity and spread Mao’s cult of personality. Mao used official big-character posters as a means to criticize his opponents and encouraged the masses to do the same. Opponents like Liu Shaoqi and Lin Biao, fell out of favour partially as a result of the big- character posters and other forms of propaganda. At the same time, big-character poster writing flourished at the grassroots level.21 The extent to which such posters conformed to the Maoist cult of personality can be seen in the 54

text of a Red Guard big-character poster written at Qinghua Middle School in 1966: We must rebel against any person who advocates revisionism! We must rebel against anyone who opposes Mao Zedong thought! We are Red Guards who swear allegiance to Chairman Mao. We are loyal to him. We would carry out his highest order. That is to say, we would carry out the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution to the end.22 This poster demonstrates the fierce loyalty to Mao Zedong typical of Red Guard posters. Since dissent against the Maoist faction was dangerous, many went to great lengths to demonstrate conformity to the revolution. People frequently wrote for the sake of appearing revolutionary, resulting in the appearance of many fallacious denunciations on big-character posters. In his historical survey of the big-character poster, Hua Sheng concludes that “Mao thus gained what he appeared to desire from dazibao—not the free expression of ideas different from his own, but the echo of his own voice reverberating across the country.”23 The creation of big-character posters thus became a type of revolutionary performance. A photograph by Li Zhensheng shows a propaganda group at Harbin’s University hard at work. While the image was originally taken for a revolutionary newspaper and has likely been partially staged, the photograph is an accurate illustration of the vigor and efficiency with which the people produced big-character posters, as well as the type of posters produced. The poster at the forefront of the image contains a realistic portrait of Mao Zedong and the bold slogans of the surrounding posters read, “Upsurge Revolutionary Criticism” and “Criticize China’s Nikita Khruschev Liu Shaoqi.”24 Moreover, the obvious staging of the image itself offers critical insight into the func55

tion of big-character posters during the Cultural Revolution, namely as performances of conformity to the Maoist line and its rhetoric of perpetual revolution.25 TRADITION, SOCIALIST MODERNITY AND THE ART OF CALLIGRAPHY On the pages of big-character posters, the masses confronted the Chinese literati tradition. The expression of Communist thoughts on posters became a revolutionary activity that the population as a whole feverishly adopted.26 Big-character posters reportedly appeared even in the farthest countryside, especially after 1968 when the Red Guard was sent to China’s rural areas in large numbers. The ancient art of Chinese calligraphy, which had previously been in the hands of the literati and the emperorship, is characterized by elaborate cursive scripts. Richard Kraus notes in Brushes with Power that “calligraphy provided a means of ensuring that over the centuries China’s literati would continue to hold political power in their own hands.”27 Traditionally, the ability to write in impressive calligraphy was a person’s passage into the elite world through the Civil Service examination system from which government workers were selected. However, because well-executed calligraphy requires time and practice, calligraphy, as well as full literacy, remained inaccessible to the majority of the Chinese people.28 Chinese characters are monosyllabic and pictographic. Chiang Yee explains in Chinese Calligraphy that they “not only serve the purpose of conveying thought but also express in a peculiar visual way the beauty of the thought.”29 As an art form, calligraphy was considered especially powerful for its potential to reveal the personality of the writer and evoke his presence through his signature writing style.30 An example of this tradition is the scholar Kang Youwei’s (1858-1927) Running Style or hsing-shu script, 56

a style that originated in the later Han period. Chiang Yee suggests that this style emerged to allow for quicker writing, spontaneity, and “vivid movement” on the part of the calligrapher, resulting in lines which taper as the ink fades.31 During the Cultural Revolution, the Red Guard set out to destroy traditional works of calligraphy, and pieces painted by Kang Youwei were targeted and defaced.32 The calligraphy style most often employed during the Cultural Revolution exemplifies the universal nature of the big-character poster. Tsong-zung states that in the eyes of the Communist party, calligraphy was “regarded as a tool for the Movement of Abolishing Illiteracy and rarely promoted as art training [since] as an independent form of art, calligraphy was probably too cozy with the traditional literati for the taste of the Communist reformers.”33 As a result, out of the many styles of calligraphy that had developed over the centuries, the Regular Script and Neo- Wei style became the most commonly used during the Cultural Revolution. Da Zheng explains that these two styles consisted of “standardized strokes and rigid composition,” forming simplistic and legible characters that would be accessible to all who wanted to write and read.34 These simplified forms of calligraphy “demystified” and made revolutionary what was once the art of the elites.35 The Neo-Wei script offers an example of this modern and revolutionary calligraphy. As opposed to the curved, multi-toned letters of the Running style, Neo-Wei style calligraphy is bold, easy to read, and standardized, removing any trace of the calligrapher who wrote it. This standardization is an important aspect of Neo-Wei style: the creation of big- character posters was not meant to be an act of individuality, but a collective labour of revolution.36 Xu Bing, a contemporary Chinese artist created many big-character posters with his local propaganda department during the Cultural Revolution. In describing this work Xu compares himself to 57

a cog in the machine of the revolution, contributing blindly to the spread of ideology.37 As a rule, the big-character posters produced at this time contained little indexical indicators of individual writers. Instead, the posters formed a uniform sea of Maoist slogans and denunciations.38 Although the Red Guards embarked on a campaign to destroy all traditional works of calligraphy, one cursive script remained publicly sanctioned: that of Mao. A poet and calligrapher, Mao had developed a style of calligraphy distinctly his own which he used to bolster his cult of personality throughout the Cultural Revolution. Kraus explains that after the hanging of Mao’s first big-character poster, Mao’s calligraphy “assumed the status of talisman.”39 His writing became almost as iconic as his portrait. Tsong-zung further asserts that “Mao made full use of his image as a traditional literati scholar, emphasizing his poetry and calligraphy and lending authority and historical legitimacy to his role as a sagacious ruler.”40 Mao’s calligraphy became so identifiable and symbolic in the eyes of the people that it was chosen to adorn the Red Guard armband and was frequently featured in magazines and newspapers where Mao desired a presence.41 An inherent contradiction underlies Mao’s bigcharacter poster, which advocates anti- bourgeois revolution while simultaneously exploiting calligraphy’s history as an elite art to bolster his own authority.42 A 1968 propaganda image demonstrates the extent to which Mao’s big-character poster was exalted. Mao is painted in a style that is both realistic and reminiscent of the traditional literati ink paintings. He holds a writing brush that points to a recreation of his calligraphy, reading: “Bombard the Capitalist Headquarters - My First Big- Character Poster.” At the bottom left corner is a seal, another feature of literati paintings that contrasts greatly with the aforementioned anti-bourgeois slogan. In this image, the tension between Mao’s adoption of literati 58

trappings and the revolutionary content of his rhetoric is visually manifest. Nonetheless, it is ultimately Mao’s cult of personality that dominates the image, once again positioning cursive calligraphy as an art of the elite.43 FROM LOYAL DISSENT TO OVERT DISSENT AT THE CLOSE OF THE CULTURAL REVOLUTION In the early stages of the Revolution, dazibao were largely used for promoting revolution across all levels of society, and the messages of these posters rarely strayed from the Maoist line. However as the Cultural Revolution wore on, the masses increasingly employed the big- character poster as a tool to state their personal grievances, illustrating a shift from loyal dissent to overt dissent. An early instance of this shift can be seen in the 1975 poster erected by three men under the name “Li Yizhe.” Although in its criticism of Lin Biao the poster followed the Maoist line, the authors also called for China to integrate democracy and greater attention human rights into its political system.44 As a result, the writers of the poster were arrested. Although Mao recognized bigcharacter posters as a freedom of speech, when such posters did not support the Maoist agenda their writers often faced severe penalties.45 Following Mao’s death in 1976, the Maoist faction, known as the Gang of Four, became almost instantly the target of big-character posters.46 From this moment on, as the cult of Mao disintegrated the degree of overt dissent manifested in big-character posters increased. The Democracy Wall of the 1978 Democracy Movement illustrates an attempt on the part of the public to come to terms with the Cultural Revolution. This wall, plastered with big-character posters, quickly became a space to voice dissent against the Gang of Four and the Maoist cult of personality.47 Although at first the wall was tolerated, when posters appeared criti59

cizing party leader Deng Xiaoping, a crackdown ensued.48 During the lead-up to the Tiananmen Square Massacre in 1989, Beijing was once again papered with big-character posters offering outright criticisms of the government. Six months after the massacre, the Education Commission initiated a law that banned dazibao from University campuses, a final move to outlaw the practice.49 CONCLUSIONS Over the course of the 1980s, Chinese artists would attempt to come to terms with their experiences during the Cultural Revolution by revisiting the art of calligraphy and its manipulation on the big-character poster. Wu Shanzhuan’s Red Humour (1986) and Gu Wenda’s A Game In Which the Audience Serve as Chessmen on a Suspended Chessboard (1987) are two striking installations that harness the visual impact of big-character posters. Both Wu Shanzhuan and Gu Wenda entirely covered rooms with posters in order to comment on the violent and ubiquitous presence of dazibao during the Cultural Revolution. Referencing the popular practice of denunciation, the posters of Gu Wenda’s installation feature immense Chinese characters crossed out with ‘x’s. Wu Shanzhuan’s work, on the other hand, mixes Maoist slogans with mundane advertisements, illustrating the absurd and all-pervasive presence of ideology in the dazibao-inundated visual culture of the Cultural Revolution.50 These powerful art pieces reveal the efforts of Chinese artists to come terms with their heritage of the Cultural Revolution by revisiting and reinterpreting their interactions with the big-character poster. These contemporary renegotiations of big-character posters illustrate the extent to which this powerful visual phenomenon has left a lasting effect on the Chinese psyche. The big- character poster was a crucial aspect of the 60

Cultural Revolution as it provided for a theoretical space of dialogue between the masses and Mao Zedong. Nonetheless, the rhetoric expounded by the posters, especially in the early years of the Revolution, remained overwhelmingly Maoist as the masses clamored to be revolutionary, both out of genuine zeal and fear. For this reason, the mass production of big-character posters during the Cultural Revolution was in many ways a performance of revolutionary conformity.51 This performance is also reflected in the transformation of calligraphy that occurred on the big-character poster, as the masses adopted simplified scripts, thus transforming the historical literati tradition in the name of anti-bourgeois revolution. Ultimately however, the medium of the big-character poster was harnessed by Mao Zedong as an effective means to bolster his cult of personality, both by disseminating his ideological messages and linking them to his iconic style of calligraphy.52 After Maoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s death, the big-character poster was re-appropriated by the masses to express outright dissent in the Democracy Movement and the movement leading up to the Tiananmen Square Massacre. While the medium of dazibao has been much less frequently used as a form of protest since the late-1980s, scholars such as Henry Siling L, Ashley Esarey, and Xiao Qiang have suggested that the wall of the micro-blog has replaced the physical walls once covered with dazibao. Dissent, these scholars suggest, has found a new space for articulation in the internet.53 Nonetheless, regardless of the decline of big-character posters, the art of calligraphy still plays a prominent role in contemporary Chinese visual culture. Calligraphy continues to be explored today by Chinese artists as a means to probe and investigate their heritage and the psycho-social impact of the Cultural Revolution.54

END NOTES 1 Goran Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide: On Dissent and Big-Character Posters in China (London: Curzon Press, 1990), 17.; Ibid., 61-62.; --. Art of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 1966-1976, eds. Scott Watson and Shengtian Zheng (Vancouver: Morris and Helen Belkin Art Gallery, the Power Plant Contemporary Art Gallery and Harbourfront Centre, 2002) 4.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” Journal of Popular Culture, 28:2 (1994), 186-189. 2 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 58-59; Ibid.. 61-62.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China: A Historical Survey,” Journal of Chinese Law, 4:233 (1990), 240. Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 19.; Ibid., 67.; Jiang 3 Jiehong, Burden or Legacy: From the Chinese Cultural Revolution to Contemporary Art (Aberdeen: Hong Kong University Press, 2007), 11-12.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 186-189.; Ibid., 190.; Ibid., 194-197.; Richard Curt Kraus, Brushes with Power: Modern Politics and the Chinese Art of Calligraphy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 96-97, 99-100. 4 Jiang Jiehong, Burden or Legacy, 11-13.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 75-79.; Ibid., 84. 5 Ibid., 31-32.; Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution: The Impact on Chinese Thought, Culture, and Communication (Columbia: University of South Carolina, 2004),74. 6 Ibid.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 31-32. 7 Ibid., 32. 8 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 235-236. 63

9 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 45-51.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China” 237.; Art of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 1966-1976, 18. 10 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 52-53.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 236-238. 11 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 56-57.; Ibid., 71.; Kraus, Brushes with Power, 96-97. 12 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 58. 13 Guo Jian, “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China: The Cultural Revolution and Postmodernism,” Modern China, Vol. 25, No. 3 (July 1999), 147.; Art of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 1966-1976, 4.; Richard King and Jan Walls, “Introduction: Vibrant Images of a Turbulent Decade,” Art in Turmoil: The Chinese Cultural Revolution 1966-76, ed. Richard King (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2010), 5-6.; Julia F. Andrews, “The Art of the Cultural Revolution,” Art in Turmoil: The Chinese Cultural Revolution 1966-76, ed. Richard King (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2010), 28. 14 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 239.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 58.; Ibid., 63.; Julia Kwong, Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, May 1966-April 1969 (Stanford: Hoover Institution Press, 1988), xii.; John Cleverley, The Schooling of China: Tradition and Modernity in Chinese Education (Second Edition. North Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1991), 164-165.; King and Walls, “Introduction”, 5-7.; Andrews, “The Art of the Cultural Revolution,” 32. 15 Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 75.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 58-59.; Ibid., 70.; Kwong, Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, May 1966-April 1969, xiv.; Ibid., 3-7.; Jiang Jiehong, Burden or 64

Legacy, 10.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 239.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 186. 16 Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 76.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 60.; Kwong, Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, May 1966-April 1969, 8.; Art of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 1966-1976, 20. 17 Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 74-75.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 62.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 239.; Guo Jian, “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China,” 355-357.; Ibid., 364. 18 Kwong, Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, May 1966-April 1969, 73.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 55.; Ibid., 61-63.; Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 93. 19 Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 7376.; Ibid., 89.; Ibid., 91-92.; King and Walls, “Introduction”, 12-14.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 60. 20 Xu Bing, “On Words 1999/2000,” Contemporary 20 Chinese Art: Primary Documents, eds. Wu Hung and Peggy Wang (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 2010), 256.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 186. 21 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 18.; Cleverley, The Schooling of China, 165.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 238-240.; Ibid., 243. 22 Art of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 19661976, 29. 23 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 240.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 20.; Ibid., 62.; Kwong, Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, May 65

1966-April 1969, 58-59.; Guo Jian, “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China,” 355.; Ibid., 364.; Art of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 1966-1976, 7.; Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 84.; Ibid., 93. 24 Li Zhensheng, Red-Color News Soldier: A Chinese Photographer’s Odyssey Through the Cultural Revolution, ed. Robert Pledge (New York: Phaidon Press, 2003), 187. 25 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 61.; Ibid., 67.; Xing Lu, Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, 93.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 240.; Guo Jian, “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China,” 355.; Ibid., 364. 26 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 66.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 185189.; Kraus, Brushes with Power, 36.; Ibid., 39.; Kwong, Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, May 1966-April 1969, 71.; Ibid., 106-107.; Cleverley, The Schooling of China, 170.; Ibid., 175-176. 27 Kraus, Brushes with Power, 3.; Ibid., 14.; Ibid., 36-37.; Ibid., 39.; Ibid., 43-44.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 185. 28 Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 186-189.; Ibid., 193-196.; Kraus, Brushes with Power, x.; Ibid., 39.; Chiang Yee, Chinese Calligraphy: An Introduction to its Aesthetic and Technique, 3rd ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973), 1.; Ibid., 11- 12.; Ibid., 14. 29 Ibid., 1.; Ibid., 14.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 187. 31 Yee, Chinese Calligraphy, 11.; Ibid., 106-107, Ibid., 11011.; Ibid., 166.; Ibid., 206-207.; Ibid., 236-239.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 187. 66

David Clarke, “Iconicity and Indexicality: The Body in Chinese Art,” Chinese Art and Its Encounter With the World (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011), 117-121.; Kraus, Brushes with Power, 98. 31 Yee, Chinese Calligraphy, 79.; Ibid., 81.; Ibid., 119.; Kang Youwei, “Handwriting in Running Script,” The Palace Museum: The Forbidden City Website (accessed 20 November 2012) http://www.dpm.org.cn/ shtml/660/@/100532.html. 32 Kraus, Brushes with Power, 36.; Ibid., 39.; Ibid., 96-97.; Cleverley, The Schooling of China, 165.; Chang Tsongzung, “Mesmerized by Power,” Burden or Legacy: From the Chinese Cultural Revolution to Contemporary Art, ed. Jiang Jiehong (Aberdeen: Hong Kong University Press, 2007) 62.; Clarke, “Iconicity and Indexicality,” 116-117. 33 Tsong-zung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 61. 34 Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 186-188. 35 Ibid., 186.; Tsong-zung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 61. 36 Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 185-189.; Ibid., 192.; Tsong- zung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 62. 37 Xu Bing, “On Words 1999/2000,” 256. 38 Ibid.; Tsong-zung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 60.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 17- 19.; Ibid., 67. 39 Kraus, Brushes with Power, x.; Ibid., 3-4.; Ibid., 99100.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 191.; Ibid., 195-196. 40 Tsong-zung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 57-58. 41 Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 188.; Ibid., 190.; Ibid., 194- 197.; Li Zhensheng, Red-Color News Soldier, 80.; Tsong-zung, 67

“Mesmerized by Power,” 60, 62. 42 Clarke, “Iconicity and Indexicality,” 117-119.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 188193.; Ibid., 195.; Ibid., 198.; Tsong-zung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 57-58.; Ibid., 60.; Ibid., 62. 43 Kraus, Brushes with Power, 102.; Guo Jian, “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China,” 364.; Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 192. 44 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 241-242.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 73-74.; Kjeld Erik Brodsgaard, “The Democracy Movement in China, 19781979: Opposition Movements, Wall Poster Campaigns, and Underground Journals.” Asian Survey, 21: 7 (1981). 752-756. 45 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 241-243.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 74-75.; Brodsgaard, “The Democracy Movement in China, 1978-1979,” 756. 46 Cleverley, The Schooling of China, 215-218.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 75-76.; Robin Munro, “Settling Accounts with the Cultural Revolution at Beijing University 1977-78.” The China Quarterly, 82 (1980), 308-309. 47 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 245.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 77. 48 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 244-251.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 78-79.; Munro, “Settling Accounts with the Cultural Revolution at Beijing University 1977-78,” 747-748.; Ibid., 769-772. 49 Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 251-252.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 23. 50 Wu Hung, Transience: Chinese Experimental Art at the End of the Twentieth Century (University of Chicago Press: 68

David and Alfred Smart Museum of Art, 2005), 39-40.; Jiang Jiehong, Burden or Legacy, 11-12.; Ibid., 29.; Tsongzung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 66.; Ibid., 108-110. 51 Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 58-62.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 240.; Guo Jian, “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China,” 355.; Ibid., 364. 52 Da Zheng, “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution,” 186-193.; Ibid., 195-196.; Clarke, “Iconicity and Indexicality,” 117-119.; Tsong-zung, “Mesmerized by Power,” 57-58.; Ibid., 60-62.; Kraus, Brushes with Power, x.; Ibid., 3-4.; Ibid., 99-100. 53 Henry Siling Li, “The Turn to the Self: From ‘BigCharacter Posters’ to Youtube Videos,” Chinese Journal of Communication, 2:1 (2009), 3-4.; Ibid., 10-12.; Ashley Esarey and Xiao Qiang, “Political Expression in the Chinese Blogosphere: Below the Radar,” Asian Survey, 48:5 (2008), 752-755.; Hua Sheng, “Big Character Posters in China,” 244-252.; Leijonhufvud, Going Against the Tide, 23.; Ibid., 78-79.; Munro, “Settling Accounts with the Cultural Revolution at Beijing University 1977-78,” 747748.; Ibid., 769-772. 54 Jiang Jiehong, Burden or Legacy, 11-13.; Wu Hung, Transience, 36-40.

WORK CITED Andrews, Julia F. “The Art of the Cultural Revolution.” Art in Turmoil: The Chinese Cultural Revolution 1966-76. Edited by Richard King. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2010. Brodsgaard, Kjeld Erik. “The Democracy Movement in China, 1978-1979: Opposition Movements, Wall Poster Campaigns, and Underground Journals.” Asian Survey, Vol. 21, No. 7 (July 1981). 747-774. Chang Tsong-zung. “Mesmerized by Power.” Burden or Legacy: From the Chinese Cultural Revolution to Contemporary Art. Edited by Jiang Jiehong. Aberdeen: Hong Kong University Press, 2007. Chiang Yee. Chinese Calligraphy: An Introduction to its Aesthetic and Technique. Third Edition. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973. Clarke, David. “Iconicity and Indexicality: The Body in Chinese Art.” Chinese Art and Its Encounter With the World. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011. Cleverley, John. The Schooling of China: Tradition and Modernity in Chinese Education. Second Edition. North Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 1991. Da Zheng. “Chinese Calligraphy and the Cultural Revolution.” Journal of Popular Culture, Vol. 28, No. 2 (Fall 1994). 185-201. Esarey, Ashley and Xiao Qiang. “Political Expression in the Chinese Blogosphere: Below the Radar.” Asian Survey, Vol. 48, No. 70

5 (September/October 2008). 752-772. Guo Jian. “Resisting Modernity in Contemporary China: The Cultural Revolution and Postmodernism.” Modern China, Vol. 25, No. 3 (July 1999). 343-376. Hua Sheng. “Big Character Posters in China: A Historical Survey.” Journal of Chinese Law, 4:233 (1990). 234-256. Jiang Jiehong. “Burden or Legacy: From the Cultural Revolution to Contemporary Art.” Burden or Legacy: From the Chinese Cultural Revolution to Contemporary Art. Edited by Jiang Jiehong. Aberdeen: Hong Kong University Press, 2007. Kang Youwei. “Handwriting in Running Script.” The Palace Museum: The Forbidden City Website (accessed 20 November 2012). http://www.dpm.org.cn/shtml/660/@/100532.html. King, Richard and Jan Walls. “Introduction: Vibrant Images of a Turbulent Decade.” Art in Turmoil: The Chinese Cultural Revolution 1966-76. Edited by Richard King. Vancouver: UBC Press, 2010. Kraus, Richard Curt. Brushes with Power: Modern Politics and the Chinese Art of Calligraphy. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. Kwong, Julia. Cultural Revolution in China’s Schools, May 1966-April 1969. Stanford: Hoover Institution Press, 1988. Leijonhufvud, Goran. Going Against the Tide: On Dissent and Big-Character Posters in China. London: Curzon Press, 1990. Li, Henry Siling. “The Turn to the Self: From ‘Big-Character Posters’ to Youtube Videos.” Chinese Journal of Communication, 71

Vol. 2, No. 1 (2009). 50-60. Li Zhensheng. Red-Color News Soldier: A Chinese Photographer’s Odyssey Through the Cultural Revolution. Edited by Robert Pledge. New York: Phaidon Press, 2003. Munro, Robin. “Settling Accounts with the Cultural Revolution at Beijing University 1977-78.” The China Quarterly, No. 82 (June 1980). 308-333. Wu Hung. Transience: Chinese Experimental Art at the End of the Twentieth Century. University of Chicago Press: David and Alfred Smart Museum of Art, 2005. --. Art of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution 1966-1976. Edited by Scott Watson and Shengtian Zheng. Vancouver: Morris and Helen Belkin Art Gallery, the Power Plant Contemporary Art Gallery and Harbourfront Centre, 2002. Xing Lu. Rhetoric of the Chinese Cultural Revolution: The Impact on Chinese Thought, Culture, and Communication. Columbia: University of South Carolina, 2004. Xu Bing. “On Words 1999/2000.” Contemporary Chinese Art: Primary Documents. Edited by Wu Hung and Peggy Wang. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 2010.

WHILE WE CAN LOOK AT A RENAISSANCE PORTRAIT AND ATTEMPT TO ACCESS ITS AESTHETIC POTENTIAL FOR THOSE LIVING IN THE PERIOD, INVARIABLY OUR OWN CONTEMPORARY SENSIBILITIES AND REFERENTIAL POINTS OF COMPARISON WILL PLAY INTO THE WAY WE ANALYZE THESE WORKS... 74

THE QUEERING OF ST. SEBASTIAN: RENAISSANCE ICONOGRAPHY AND THE HOMOEROTIC BODY Written by Clinton Glenn Edited by Asieh Harati

he figure of Saint Sebastian is a common trope in art since antiquity. The Saint usually appears tied to a tree, his body penetrated by numerous arrows. However, when looking at the various depictions of the Saint, a shift in how Sebastian is depicted can be seen in early fifteenth century Italy. His depiction shifts from one of an older man with a bearded face (Fig. 1 and 2) to an adolescent boy. This figuration of the erotic body of Sebastian has taken on numerous meanings since the Italian Renaissance. Baroque artists Caravaggio and Guido Reni portrayed Sebastian as a homoerotic figure, while contemporary artist David Wojnarowicz played with the idea of Sebastian as a homosexual martyr in the face of the HIV/AIDS pandemic of the 1980s. But how did Sebastian go from an early Christian martyr to the so-called “patron saint of gay men?”1 This paper will examine the dramatic shift that occurred in the depiction of Sebastian in the Italian Renaissance. What becomes clear is that there are multitudes of ways in which his figurative and material body can be read. While Sebastian can be seen through a religious iconographical lens, the “[homoerotic] subtext—especially in the eye of the informed, queer beholder—transforms the religious into a source of masculine desire.”2 It is these divergent accounts of Sebastian that lead one to question how Sebastian can be viewed within a Renaissance context: as a homoerotic icon, as a religious icon, or potentially as both. It 76

is the tension between the public, religious reading, and the private, erotic reading that is fertile ground for discussion. A public reading of Saint Sebastian in the Italian Renaissance can be located in three different functions of paintings of the saints: one, in their didactic function of communicating the life of the saint to the illiterate lower classes; two, in the depiction of Saint Sebastian as an adolescent, which had the function of indoctrinating the young men of Florence into a specific moral framework; and three, as a devotional portrait which people would have kept as a ward against the plague. A private reading, on the other hand, can be elucidated from the social context in which many of the Sebastian paintings were created paintings, the covert homoeroticism in the way his half-naked body is depicted, and in the symbolism of the arrows penetrating his body. While this paper will not argue for a depiction of Sebastian as explicitly homosexual, the goal is to provide a nuanced examination of how the symbolic representation of Sebastian can work on multiple levels: religious and secular, sexual and devotional. But what makes Sebastian specifically well suited to such encoded meanings? Many of the details of the Saint's life are unclear, and these contradictions could perhaps have fed into his various interpretations. What most scholars have agreed upon is that Sebastian was a guard in Emperor Diocletian's army in the third century. He was said to have converted to Christianity and preached to other soldiers covertly through his position in the army. After destroying numerous pagan idols, Diocletian ordered Sebastian to be tied to a tree and shot through with arrows. This is the common representation of Sebastian. He was left to die, but through the intervention of Saint Irene, Sebastian was nursed back to health. He later reappeared on Diocletian's doorstep and the emperor, filled with rage at Sebastian's defiance, had him clubbed to death and tossed in the sewers of Rome.3 The general trajectory of Sebastian's 77

Figure 1

Figure 2

life seems to be consistent throughout most versions of his story. However, another version of Sebastian's relationship with Diocletian has circulated. Religious scholar Dr. Donald Boisvert has pointed to a version of the Sebastian narrative in which he was the “play-thing” of Diocletian.4 This narrative appears to have transformed itself into a coded signifier of “Diocletian's love for his favourite and [they] were proverbial for homosexual affairs.”5 These rich layers of meaning in both versions of the Sebastian story, of the public martyr and the private homosexual lend the Saint to a variety of depictions and multiple interpretations. Public portraits of saints created during the Italian Renaissance served very specific, public functions. Art historian Michael Baxandall points out that these images had a didactic function that worked on three levels. They were to be simple enough to understand, dramatic enough to be remembered, and emotionally charged so that those viewing them could have a fuller sense of the message the image was to convey.6 Many people during this time were illiterate, and “what they knew of scripture and the lives of the saints was what they heard from priests, parents, wandering preachers [and] storytellers.” These paintings were far more accessible to the common people than words they could not read.7 So it is possible that many of the Saint Sebastian portraits created during this period were public representations of religious piety and the heroic life and death of the martyr. A key example would be Giovanni del Biondo's altarpiece from the late 14th century (Fig. 1). In contrast, wealthy patrons commissioned many other portraits of Sebastian. Bronzino's Saint Sebastian (Fig. 2) by comparison, was most likely created as such a private commission.8 Most notably, these commissions were for a wealthy elite and represented their desire to surround themselves with heroic and noble figures from the past. The elite were actively engaged in a Humanist discourse with classical forms of knowledge, and a figure 80

from antiquity such as Saint Sebastian would have fallen well within this discourse. It is in this classicism that a more private reading of the body of the Saint can be found. The Italian Renaissance itself was marked by a turn to classical texts and forms. Humanism as expounded by the elite “looked to ancient Greece and Rome for models of good politics and culture.”9 Artists themselves were expected to communicate with and learn from writers, poets, philosophers, and the wealthy classes. It was in this dialogue that they gained the knowledge by which they would compose their portraits. Leon Battista Alberti compelled artists to associate themselves with intellectuals, such as poets and philosophers: “each painter should make himself familiar with poets, rhetoricians and others equally well learned in letters.”10 Along with this interest in classical ideals that was part-and-parcel of Renaissance Humanism came a rediscovery of Greek pederasty.11 This notion of pederastic love extended to the studios of many Renaissance painters. A number of the more famous artists of the period were at one point accused of sodomy, many with their young apprentices. Modern art historians have characterized these individuals as an early formation of a homosexual identity.12 Whether this is a simple re-working of history and anachronistically applying a contemporary identity label is a matter of debate. Given that the workshop spaces in which many of these portraits were created permeated with erotic energies, it stands to reason that this energy found its way into the homoerotic portrayal of Saint Sebastian.13 These youthful depictions of Saint Sebastian could potentially be seen as representative of the erotic desires of the artists themselves. Giovanni Bazzi, also known as Il Sodoma, was a key figure that portrayed a youthful Sebastian as a half-naked young boy. Il Sodoma was accused on a number of occasions, of engaging in sodomy with his young apprentices, and unlike many of his contemporaries who were accused, Il 81

Sodoma never denied engaging in sodomy.14 When looking at two different versions of Sebastian he created (Fig. 3), one can see that there is much more of a focus on the eroticized body.15 Whereas earlier representations of Sebastian (Fig. 1) depict the Saint's body as perforated by arrows, these focus more on the tenderness of his body, his genitals barely covered. While Il Sodoma worked in Siena, other examples from around the Italian peninsula followed this [one]. Both Perugino's Saint Sebastian (Fig. 4) and Amico Aspertini's Saint Sebastian are similar in content to Il Sodoma's work, eroticizing and feminizing the body of the Saint. In contrast, an earlier depiction of Sebastian by Andrea Mantegna has a much more masculine appearance, though the erotic potential for certain viewers could not be denied. Unlike Il Sodoma, little evidence exists to suggest that either Perugino or Aspertini, engaged in homosexual activity. Bronzino, however, was reputed to have layered his works with homoerotic subtext.16 Given the delicate features of his depiction of Saint Sebastian (Fig. 2), a homoerotic reading is possible. The adolescent depiction of Sebastian along with the evidence of same-sex homoeroticism in the lives of many artists during this period lends credence to a sexual subtext to these images. It stands to serve that the physical representation of Sebastian can thus be read through a homoerotic lens. Despite the explicit homoerotic potential in the Sebastian paintings, the consistent depiction of Saint Sebastian as an adolescent child could potentially have served a much more potent public function in the context of Florence. Art Historian Christopher Fulton states that this had more to do with the social function that this played than any specific eroticized intent. The depiction of Sebastian as an adolescent fell under common representation of â&#x20AC;&#x153;idealized youth,â&#x20AC;? one which had the effect of indoctrinating the young men of Florence, creating in them one â&#x20AC;&#x153;who would make a worthy heir, 82

Figure 3

a trustworthy citizen, and who as an adult could lead the city into a future of material and spiritual well-being.”17 By using classical figures that are directly related to ideals of heroism, martyrdom, and solidity in the face of mortality, the adolescent boys who would see these images could potentially be compelled to be upright, participatory Florentine citizens in their adulthood. While there may have been prescriptive ideals inherent in the social functioning of these objects, this neglects the artist’s own erotic impulses being integrated within the work. While agreeing with Fulton's perception of these images as “[reflecting] an ideal— repeated in the texts of this era—of Florentine youth as properly deferential to adult authority,” art historian Christopher Reed also opens up an analytical space for the possibility that these images could have erotic potential.18 However, given that this patriarchal reading of the adolescent Sebastian is firmly grounded in Florence while the proliferation of youthful imaginings of the saint were created throughout peninsular Italy, another public reading is possible. In depicting Saint Sebastian as a youthful, beautiful figure, he could potentially be seen as both transcendent and material, simultaneously in pain and an example of “the ultimate resilience of bodies devoted to good works.”19 The beautiful body served as an example of the heroic martyr, one that the viewer could take comfort in. During the Middle Ages, Saint Sebastian took on the role as a patron saint to plague victims.20 By keeping a portrait of Saint Sebastian in a public or private place, an individual could pray to the portrait, hoping to avoid the ravages of the plague that had attacked much of Europe; the image would act “as a supplicant and intercessor.”21 Boisvert alludes to the penetration of the arrows in Sebastian's body and how they mirrored the wounds of the flesh of plague victims as a mirror for the victim's suffering.22 Therefore, the representation of the arrows in the Saint's flesh would be key to this reading. However, 84

many of the later fifteenth century depictions of Sebastian are characteristic of the few arrows that penetrate his flesh. The focus, therefore, could be seen as shifting from his ecstatic suffering to his erotic flesh.23 The arrows shown penetrating Sebastian's body also carry the potential symbolism of phallic penetration. Art historian Janet Cox-Rearick makes this explicit in her reading of Bronzino's depiction of the Saint: “one [arrow] has penetrated his body, the other is casually, but suggestively, held against the pink drapery, the saint's index finger curved around and almost touching the arrowhead.”24 This placement of the arrow, directly in the Saint's tender hand, makes explicit a highly erotic potential. In contrast, other art historians have read Il Sodoma's Saint Sebastian portraits as representative of his own life and the subsequent critical reaction, most notably by Giorgio Vasari, for his personal indiscretions with his young assistants. James Saslow picks up on this possibility, reading Saint Sebastian as a stand-in for Il Sodoma, “he writhes in an ecstasy of helpless suffering for love open to multiple personal interpretations, from sadomasochistic fantasies to the artist's veiled comment on his own public 'martyrdom'.”25 However, the fact remains that this reading of Saint Sebastian has been anachronistically applied to his body. While contemporary art historians and critics may clearly see the arrows as representing the phallus, there is little evidence to suggest that this was the intention of the artists themselves. And though we may speculate about the use of Saint Sebastian as a homoerotic metaphor, “Sebastian in many ways had his homoerotic meaning foisted on him.”26 The contemporary viewer can look at the Saint through multiple levels of meaning, each fraught with the possibility of unintentional ahistoricism. When looking at these public and private readings, it is difficult to determine the “correct” justification for how Sebastian was meant to be read. The public functions of por85

traits of Sebastian are well documented and certainly hold up to scrutiny. However, this is not to say that examinations of the aesthetics in which the Saint was portrayed cannot be scrutinized. Art Historian Christopher Reed points out a critical flaw in contemporary art historical discourse, the belief that there is a transcendental aesthetics that can be used to access art from any time period and see it “as fundamentally like our own 'art' and, therefore, accessible to our habits of visual analysis and delight.”27 While we can look at a Renaissance portrait and attempt to access its aesthetic potential for those living in the period, invariably our own contemporary sensibilities and referential points of comparison will play into the way we analyze these works. This does not deny the potential private readings of Sebastian as an object of homoerotic desire. The problem comes down to a perception of what such desire represented. Many art historians engaged in gay and lesbian critiques of the art historical canon have a tendency to anachronistically label artists as homosexual or gay. Both James Saslow and James Smalls, art historians who have written extensively on the relationship between homosexuality and art, tend to conflate sexual identity with desire. While perhaps those who had same-sex desires during the Renaissance would have engaged with Saint Sebastian as a figure of homoerotic yearning, to label these artists as gay or homosexual would be to deny their own subjectivity. Despite this, a wealth of evidence does exist of the private, erotic lives of many artists. While it may be true that there are serious concerns when writing today about the “wildly varying interpretations of Renaissance art's relationship to homosexuality,”28 what remains to be said is that challenges to a dominant narrative in art history, be it from a homosexual perspective, produce alternate readings of art that are just as valid as the prevailing discourse. What many contemporary gay art historians are engaging in, is an uncovering of various formations of same86

Figure 4

sex desire and the artistic representation of these relations. Whether we label an artist as gay, a pederast, or a sodomite, could perhaps come down to a matter of semantics. What is important is that a space within art history be provided, one in which the artist can be examined in relations to their own private desires, and one in which Saint Sebastian could be read through covert homoerotic encodings.

END NOTES 1 Robert Kiely, Blessed and Beautiful: Picturing the Saints (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010), 11. 2 Donald L. Boisvert, Sanctity and Male Desire: A Gay Reading of the Saints (Cleveland: Pilgrim, 2004), 46. 3 Kiely, Blessed and Beautiful, 119-120. 4 Boisvert, Sanctity and Male Desire, 44-46. 5 James Saslow, Pictures and Passions: A History of Homosexuality in the Visual Arts (New York: Viking, 1999), 99. James Saslow expands further upon the potential for an erotic reading of Sebastian in a story told by Giorgio Vasari. It is said that a portrait of Saint Sebastian painted by Fra Bartolommeo was so erotically charged that “parishioners admitted in the confessional that the beautiful nude prompted unclean thoughts.” The paintings was then moved to the male quarters of the priests, where it was presumed that the image would not provoke a similar reaction. Saslow clearly disagrees with such a supposition.. 6 Michael Baxandall, Painting and Experience in Fifteenth Century Italy: A Primer in the Social History of Pictorial Style (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 40-43. Baxandall provides a fuller explanation on how these rules were disseminated along with the artistic licence that some painters took when depiction religious, which raised the ire of ecclesiastical authorities. 7 Kiely, Blessed and Beautiful, 3-4. 8 Janet Cox-Rearick, “A 'St Sebastian' by Bronzino,” in The Burlington Magazine 129.1008 (1987), 160. 9 Paula Findlen, “Understanding the Italian Renaissance,” in The Italian Renaissance: The Essential Readings, ed. Paula 89

Findlen (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2002), 6. 10 Leon Battista Alberti, On Painting, trans. J.R. Spencer (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press), 91. 11 Cecile Beurdeley, L'amour Bleu, trans. by Michael Taylor (Fribourg, Switzerland: Evergreen, 1994), 11. Cecile Beurdeley described the Greek form of pederasty as “love relationships with adolescent boys. Xenophon considered it an aspect of a young man's education: the lover set an example of moral rectitude and inculcated patriotism and respect for the laws in his young friend.” 12 James Smalls, Homosexuality in Art (London: Parkstone, 2002), 73. 13 James Saslow, Ganymede in the Renaissance: Homosexuality in Art and Society (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986), 15-16. James Saslow takes up this point: “Shorn of judgmental intrusions, acknowledgement of an artist's personal life and examination of his relation to his social context can reveal much of value about the meaning of works of art and the values and beliefs of the surrounding culture.” While a work can be isolated and viewed simply by what it presents, it is also important to bear in mind that an artist's own desires could be interpreted in how a subject is depicted. 14 Christopher Reed, Art and Homosexuality: A History of Ideas. (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2011), 45-49; Saslow, Ganymede in the Renaissance, 13-14. Both Christopher Reed and James Saslow touch on the various rumours surrounding Il Sodoma and his contemporaries. As Reed points out, “Giorgio Vasari's Lives of the Painters (1550), considered the first book of art history, reports that Sodoma's nickname derived from his 'licentious and dishonorable' behavior: 'he always had boys and 90

18 19 20

beardless youths about him, of whom he was inordinately fond'”. Saslow notes both Da Vinci and Michelangelo were variously accused of sodomy, but unlike their contemporary, they stridently defended their innocence. Beurdeley, L'Amour Bleu, 84. Cecile Beurdeley further explicates this reading of Il Sodoma's Sebastian portraits: “In Sodoma's version he appears as an updated hermaphrodite with ringleted hair and sweetly languorous limbs. The fleshier Saint Sebastians make one think of sensual pleasures, of a delicious pain, rather than the rigors of torture.” William McGregor, “Bronzino, Agnolo (1503-1572),” in Gay Histories and Cultures: An Encyclopedia, ed. George E. Haggerty (New York: Garland, 2000), 144-145. Many of Bronzino's other works, including the portrait of Andrea Doria as Neptune, have lent themselves to homoerotic readings. His nickname, Bronzino, has also “been suspected of encoding homosexual allusion, given that il bronzo was an alloy of copper and tin, elements that together in the burlesque code signified 'anus.'” Christopher Fulton, “The Boy Stripped Bare By His Elders: Art and Adolescence in Renaissance Florence” Art Journal 56.2 (1997): 33-37. Fulton further expands upon this point, bringing in Jacques Lacan's psychoanalytic theory of the mirror stage: “the adolescent spectator is directed to admire the virtues exemplified by the figure while projecting his own self-image onto the model.” In doing so, the youth sees himself in the virtuous figure and becomes intimately linked with the ideals they espouse. Reed, Art and Homosexuality, 50. Kiely, Blessed and Beautiful, 138. Kiely, Blessed and Beautiful, 120. Robert Kiely links this 91

21 22

24 25 26

27 28

perception of Sebastian to the Annals of the Lombards: “Sebastian is reported to have been efficacious in healing those suffering from the plague and over time he became revered as the patron saint of plague victims and soldiers.” Cox-Rearick, “A 'St Sebastian' by Bronzino,” 159. Boisvert, Sanctity and Male Desire, 43-45. Donald Boisvert further explores perception of why Sebastian was considered the patron saint of plague victims: “the symbolism of arrows was linked to the widespread imagery of the plague 'piercing' individuals as punishment from God.” Richard A. Kaye, “St. Sebastian: The Uses of Decadence.” in Saint Sebastian: A Splendid Readiness for Death, ed. Gerald Matt and Wolfgang Fetz (Bielefeld, Germany: Kunsthalle Wien, 2003), 12. Cox-Rearick, “A 'St. Sebastian' by Bronzino”, 160-161. Saslow, Pictures and Passions, 99. Kaye, “St. Sebastian,”12. Kaye does, however, agree with many critics who have viewed the homoerotic potential of Sebastian. His introduction to a German exhibition of contemporary art featuring the Saint, Saint Sebastian: A Splendid Readiness for Death, sheds further light on these contemporary interpretations. Reed, Art and Homosexuality, 3. Ibid, 47.

WORK CITED Alberti, Leon Battista. On Painting. Translated by J.R. Spencer. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1966. Baxandall, Michael. Painting and Experience in Fifteenth Century Italy: A Primer in the Social History of Pictorial Style. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004. Beurdeley, Cecile. L'amour bleu. Translated by Michael Taylor. Fribourg, Switzerland: Evergreen, 1994. Boisvert, Donald. Sanctity and Male Desire: A Gay Reading of the Saints. Cleveland: Pilgrim, 2004. Cox-Rearick, Janet. “A 'St. Sebastian' by Bronzino.” The Burlington Magazine 129.1008 (Mar. 1987): 155-162. Findlen, Paula. “Understanding the Italian Renaissance.” in The Italian Renaissance: The Essential Readings, edited by Paula Findlen, 4-39. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2002. Fulton, Christopher. “The Boy Stripped Bare by His Elders: Art and Adolescence in Renaissance Florence.” Art Journal 56.2 (1997): 31-40. Kaye, Richard A. “St. Sebastian: The Uses of Decadence.” In Saint Sebastian: A Splendid Readiness for Death, edited by Gerald Matt and Wolfgang Fetz, 11-16. Bielefeld, Germany: Kunsthalle Wien, 2003. Kiely, Robert. Blessed and Beautiful: Picturing the Saints. New 93

Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010. McGregor, William. “Bronzino, Agnolo (1503-1572),” in Gay Histories and Cultures: An Encyclopedia. Edited by George E. Haggerty. New York: Garland, 2000. Reed, Christopher. Art and Homosexuality: A History of Ideas. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2011. Saslow, James. Ganymede in the Renaissance: Homosexuality in Art and Society. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986. ---. Pictures and Passions: A History of Homosexuality in the Visual Arts. New York: Viking, 1999. Smalls, James. Homosexuality in Art. London: Parkstone, 2002. LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1: Giovanni del Biondo, detail of central panel, triptych, Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, 1374, Museo dell'Opera del Duomo, Florence. Printed with permission by Art Resource. Figure 2: Agnolo Bronzino, Saint Sebastian, oil on panel, ca. 1533, El Museo de arte Thyssen- Bornemisza, Madrid, Spain. Figure 3: Giovanni Bazzi (Il Sodoma), Saint Sebastian, oil on canvas, 1525, Galleria del Uffizi, Florence. Printed with permission by Art Resource. Figure 4: Perugino, Saint Sebastian, oil on wood, 1490, Musée du Louvre, Paris, France. Printed with permission by Art Resource.

HAILING FROM A LINEAGE OF CABARETS AND VARIETY SHOWS, CONTEMPORARY EXOTIC DANCE TAKES TO THE STAGE WITH A QUESTION PURSED ON ITS LIPS: NEITHER HIGHART NOR SOCIAL DANCE, WHERE DOES IT FIT?

CATHARSIS AND PURIFICATION IN NEO-BURLESQUE STRIPTEASE Written by Erin Hill Edited by Ashlee Griffiths

he power of catharsis was first introduced in Aristotle's Poetics as “the cleansing (purifying, purging) of feelings such as pity and fear by feeling them in an aesthetic context, such as the theatre.”1 In Aristotelian philosophy, catharsis was conceived specifically in relation to tragedies; the phenomenon evoked empathy amongst audience members for the characters onstage. The accident of catharsis was believed to create moral people, for once one has felt true empathy one cannot commit injustice.2 Recognizing the ability of theatre to evoke empathy, Brazilian doctor Augusto Boal developed a theatre pedagogy entitled Theatre of the Oppressed. Practiced worldwide, his exercises encourage critical thinking and focus on empowering the oppressed to ultimately effect positive social change. Augusto Boal warns against Aristotle's philosophy of catharsis when applied in the mainstream National theaters that host aristocratic and socially respectable high-art. Boal asks, “[if catharsis is correction], what does it correct? [and if] catharsis is purification: what does it purify?”3 Boal contends that Western theatre practices represent a coercive system. The content of the work shown at conventional theatre houses uphold the values of the ruling class; the audience who experience catharsis in such productions is thereby intimidated and pressured into complying to the standards of aristocracy and the state, thus ignoring the possibility for representation of 98

alternative realities. Challenging the orthodox use of catharsis, art-practitioners on the fringe of society expose these possibilities on unconventional stages. Through striptease and exotic dance a controversial form of catharsis is established. The climax of a striptease does not evoke empathy; it is not purgation in the Aristotelian sense of the word. Nor does striptease reinforce the status quo, rather, exotic dancers challenge societal norms.4 Striptease challenges the traditional roles of the obliging performer and the submissive spectator. In striptease, the audience-spectator relationship is simultaneously dialogical and individualizing. The performance inspires in both spectator and dancer an individual catharsis, thus creating alternative realities that are shaped to satisfy the spectatorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s desires, and bring catharsis to the dancer through empowerment. To illustrate this audience-performer connection, I have gathered sources that reveal the multiplicity of perspectives: from the history of striptease culture to legal cases regarding censorship and human rights. To exemplify and not generalize the style of Burlesque, I will be focusing on the use of striptease in neo-burlesque performances, using the work of English burlesque dancer Amber Topaz (Fig. 1). To begin, I will discuss the codified movement vocabulary of striptease: how tease defers the climax and empowers the dancer. The use of personal narrative and humour will illustrate how neo-burlesque performers simultaneously advocate for and critique the sexualized body. The neglect of exotic dance in mainstream discourses, as well as the state's creation of laws against it, underlines the controversial ability of neo-burlesque performance to subvert the status quo. Hailing from a lineage of cabarets and variety shows, contemporary exotic dance takes to the stage with a question pursed on its lips: neither high-art nor social dance, where does it fit? Exotic dance incorporates many different styles: lap-dance, pole-dance, belly dance, gymnastics, clas99

Figure 1

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sical dance- some women even dance on pointe (Fig. 2). The post-war era was a pivotal moment for striptease culture; cabarets were recovering from the damages of World War II which had made casualties of their audience and budget. Then in the 1950's, as counterpoint to the sexual repression of the times, a new interest in adult movie houses and pornographic magazines erupted.5 With the inception of peep shows and topless bars, the slow tease aspect of striptease became less valued. Professor Sherril Dodds discusses the development of this devalue throughout the 1960s. The rhetoric of ‘free love’ prompted nudity to lose its cachet of an illicit thrill, while factions within the burgeoning feminist movement denounced it as an andocentric objectification of the female body. (...) For several decades after, the ‘tease’ disappeared and stripping slipped into the realm of pornography.6 Burlesque dancer by night, scholar by day, Dodds has devoted much of her research to understanding the disparities between the exotic dancers in Gentlemen's Clubs and the dancers of Burlesque. In the chapter "Naughty but Nice", Dodd's explains, “the difference in these two strands of striptease culture is that burlesque is a self-proclaimed performance whose codified movements involve tease, humour, a sense of character and social commentary.”7 Moreover, the involvement of choreographic creativity recognized in classical dance also plays an important role in the development of neo-burlesque performance. The emphasized disparity between these forms lies in intention; where classical ballets use their specific movement vocabulary to express themes such as romantic, yearning love, burlesque points to an explicitly sexual content.8 Unlike other dance forms whose choreographies unfold to101

wards a surprising resolution, in striptease spectators know what the climax will be: pasty tassels and skin. The surprise is hidden in the 'how', in the pathway leading up to the final moment of full exposure. The essence of tease, routinely overlooked by our fast paced society in pursuit of immediate satisfaction, remains the pulse and rhythm of burlesque. An account of the self-proclaimed “Original Yorkshire Tease” Amber Topaz performing in London in 2008 illustrates these qualities: All that is left is the corset. She smiles. We smile. She gestures for applause. We whoop and off it comes. She looks shocked, then smiles knowingly. We want more. She shimmies her breasts, red sequined pasties flying round like little windmills. We applaud, we cheer, but still want more. She nods to her breast and twirls a single pasty tassel.9 The audience enters into a dialogue with the performer; paying for the tease and pleasure that the dancer will offer. The conventional model of supply and demand is enacted each time the spectators applaud for more and the dancer responds by removing more clothing. The use of tease persistently delays the climactic moment of supply, thus the dancer hold the reins with complete control.10 For the spectator, the dialogue becomes a narrative experience between their subjective desires and the objective performance. When finally the finale hits with titillating humor, catharsis is experienced both collectively and independently; the resolution as orchestrated by the performer exposes each spectator’s individual fantasy. While audience response to personal fantasies is a crucial part of the striptease experience, performers also engage with personal narrative and persona. Carol Rambo Ronai, a sociologist and exotic dancer explains that in striptease culture, narrative resistance is used by performers to “resist the ubiquitous imputations of deviance that they confront in their 102

everyday lives.”11 In this sense, narrative becomes an action by which subjects may create and manage their own identities. In neo-burlesque performance, the deviant language from which narratives of resistance are constructed always involve humour and parody. Amber Topaz demonstrates this cardinal rule of neo-burlesque stating, "Humour connects you to the audience [...] ’cause they don’t feel like I’m some untouchable kind of erotic dancer – I’m a showgirl.”12 First used in 16th century France and Italy, the etymology of the word burlesque is derived from the idea of parody.13 Used today, this sense of mockery allows the performer to maintain a distance from the typical striptease body. The dancer may choose to advocate or critique, to expose or caricature.14 In Topaz's work, humour reframes the sexualized body, enabling a shift of perspective away from mainstream views of striptease culture as pornographic or disempowering. Furthermore, neo-burlesque performance transgresses the expected voyeurism of exotic dance: whereas a traditional striptease relationship involves a patron exerting power over the dancer, the humouristic inclusion of audience members into neo-burlesque performance obliges the spectator to relinquish that control back to the dancer. Augusto Boal's warning against catharsis as a systematic standardization of society also applies in reverse effect. Well-known to the government, the potential of exotic dance to enable the undoing of social order has spurred the creation of laws prohibiting such activities. In “Dance Under the Censorship Watch,” Judith Lynne Hanna reports that censorship attacks on both publicly funded “high art” dance and “low art/entertainment” exotic dance, revealing the persistent desire to prohibit that which is considered obscene.15 The fact that any performance, whether a ballet in the theatre house or a burlesque performance in a strip club, may be subject to censorship proves that the power of catharsis supersedes that of aesthetic. 103

The conservative, disapproving view of striptease as an inappropriate and dirty engagement is not in comparison to highart; rather it is in fear of social deviance. As Hanna explains, Questions of stigma, morality, and entertainment appear to divert dance critics' attention from exotic dance. Social class and elitist bias are manifest as well. Nudity is okay when seen in mainstream theatres by wine-drinking quiche eaters but not in club theatres by beer- drinking pretzel eaters.16 Furthermore, government endorsed restrictions on striptease do not come from concern for the dancer's well-being, rather they come from the historical perception of dance as lascivious and contributing to capricious human behaviour.17 The negative societal reaction to exotic dance is rooted in recognition of the cathartic ability of striptease performance to subvert social norms. When we look to the inception of exotic dance in Western cultures, the question of origin seems intangible. Which came first; the dancer or the patron? The origin of traditional and classical dance forms may be answered by means of a timeline, whereas the popularity of striptease seems to have burgeoned with no clear beginning. Neo-burlesque performance engages the audience in both a personal and collective experience; for catharsis to exist the striptease dancer needs the spectator as the spectator needs the dance. Should the community of neo- burlesque dance continue to expand what will be lost is not a question, when what will be gained is empowerment in the affirmation of alternative realities and of a self-chosen, sexualized body. In Amber Topaz's words, “nobody told me that I’m not quite the right height, not quite the right look, or not quite the right sound. I can sing any song I like, I wear any costume I like and I’m perfect for the role.”18

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END NOTES 1 Joe Sachs, “Aristotle: Poetics,” Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, accessed March 20, 2012, http://www.iep.utm. edu/aris-poe/. 2 Sachs, “Aristotle: Poetics,” 3. 3 Augusto Boal, Theatre of the Oppressed (London: Pluto Press, 2000), 27. 4 Naomi M. Jackson, “Dance and Human Rights,” Dance and Politics ed. Alexandra Kolb (Bern: Peter Lang, 2011), 205. 5 Judith Lynne Hanna, “Right to Dance: Exotic Dancing in the United States of America,” Dance, Human Rights, and Social Justice: Dignity in Motion ed. Naomi Jackson and Toni Shapiro-Phim (Maryland: Scarecrow Press, 2008), 89. 6 Sherril Dodds, Dancing on the Canon: Embodiments of Value in Popular Dance (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 111. 7 Ibid, 125. 8 Hanna, “Right to Dance,” 88. 9 Dodds, Dancing on the Canon, 106. 10 Dodds, Dancing on the Canon, 122. 11 Kari Lerum, “Exotic Dance Research: A Review of the Literature from 1970 to 2008,” Sexuality & Culture 15, no.1 (2011): 56-79. 12 Dodds, Dancing on the Canon, 125. 13 Douglas Harper, “Burlesque,” Online Etymology Dictionary, 2001-2012. Accessed March 20, 2012, http:// www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=burlesque 14 Dodds, Dancing on the Canon, 120. 15 Judith Lynne Hanna, “Dance Under The Censorship 106

Watch,” Journal Of Arts Management, Law & Society 31, no.4 (2002): 305-6. 16 Ibid., 309. 17 Jackson, “Dance and Human Rights,” 205. 18 Dodds, Dancing on the Canon, 113.

WORK CITED Boal, Augusto. Theatre of the Oppressed. London: Pluto Press, 2000. Blackburn, Simon. “Catharsis.” The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy. Oxford University Press, 2008. Accessed March 20, 2012. Cross, Rabecca and Carol Rambo Ronai. "Dancing with Identity: Narrative Resistance Strategies of Male and Female Stripteasers." Deviant Behavior 19, no. 2 (2010): . March 16, 2012. Dodds, Sherril. Dancing on the Canon: Embodiments of Value in Popular Dance. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Hanna, Judith Lynne. “Dance and Sexuality: Many Moves.” Journal of Sex Research 47, no. 2/3 (2010): 212-241. ---. “Dance Under the Censorship Watch.” Journal of Arts Management, Law & Society 31, no. 4 (2002): 305. ---. “Right to Dance: Exotic Dancing in the United States of America.” Dance, Human Rights, and Social Justice: Dignity in Motion. Edited by Naomi Jackson and Toni Shapiro-Phim. Maryland: Scarecrow Press, 2008.

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Harper, Douglas. “Burlesque”. Online Etymology Dictionary, 2001-2012. Accessed March 20, 2012, http://www.etymonline. com/index.php?term=burlesque Hewitt, Regina. “Tragedy, Emotions.” The Encyclopedia of Romantic Literature. Edited by Burwick, Frederick. Blackwell Publishing, 2012. Jackson, Naomi M. “Dance and Human Rights.” Dance and Politics. Edited by Alexandra Kolb. Bern: Peter Lang, 2011. Lerum, Kari. “Exotic Dance Research: A Review of the Literature from 1970 to 2008.” Sexuality & Culture 15, no.1 (2011): 56-79. Ross, Becki L. “Bumping And Grinding On The Line: Making Nudity Pay.” Labour / Le Travail 46 (2000): 221-250. Sachs, Joe. “Aristotle: Poetics.” Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Annapolis: St. Johns College, 27 July 2005. Accessed 20 March 2012, http://www.iep.utm.edu/aris-poe/ Shteir, Rachel. Striptease: The Untold History of the Girlie Show. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004.

LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1: Thomas R. Grady, Far From Blue. Amber TopazGallery. Web. 15 February 2013. Figure 2: Thomas R. Grady. En Point 1. Amber Topaz- Gallery. Web. 15 February 2013.

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IT IS THIS PRESENCE OF REAL TIME, REAL SPACE, AND REAL INTERACTION THAT STRONGLY RELATES TO HEIDEGGER’S QUESTION OF BEING EXPRESSED THROUGH ART.

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‘BEING’ AS MATERIAL AND IMMATERIAL Written by Irene Kyritsis Edited by Asieh Harati

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e can very truly state that art is one of the most effective means of expression because it causes each of its viewers to undergo a personalized and different experience. It expresses ideas that cannot be expressed as easily by words, and is often tied into other contexts, such as religion, deeper philosophical ideas and social issues.1 Among all forms of art, one that is very interesting to consider due to its characteristics is performance art. One concept that can be strongly related to performance art is philosopher Martin Heidegger’s ‘question of Being.’ Marina Abramović and Joseph Beuys are two artists that illustrate this notion through their performance artworks. Abramović does so by putting herself through physical pain and difficult situations, with the aim to create an awareness of her presence, of her ‘being,’ with the audience. In contrast, Beuys addresses the question of Being by alluding to immaterial aspects, which are the presence of the energy, the knowledge and the creativity that exist within every human being. To better understand the connection between the question of Being and performance art, more specifically with these artists’ works, one must first understand Martin Heidegger’s philosophy. Heidegger, a German philosopher, was known for his explorations of existentialism and phenomenology, especially his theory of the question of Being.2 He stated that in the past two thousand years, philosophers 112

have neglected this question and have solely contemplated on topics that surround it. To express his ideas, Heidegger had to invent a new language, with which he tried to keep away from traditional connotations. Rather than getting the readers to come up with simple answers to his questions, his goal was to get the readers to contemplate and think deeply about what they have read, “That Being itself and how Being itself concerns our thinking does not depend upon thinking alone. That Being itself, and the manner in which Being itself, strikes a man’s thinking, that rouses his thinking and stirs it to rise from Being itself to respond and correspond to Being as such.”3 Similarly, Abramović and Beuys also invent their own language, but in the form of their artworks. The viewers will, in turn, contemplate and think deeply about what they have experienced through these works. Furthermore, Heidegger believed that art can play a privileged role in the unconcealment of Being as he notes that “unconcealment occurs only when it is achieved by work: the work of the word in poetry, the work of stone in temple and statue, [and] the work of the word in thought.”4 As previously stated, works of art have the power to express things that words cannot, and to show the viewer a new way of understanding what is important and prevalent in our concerns in these given aspects. Also, “the work shapes a culture’s sensibilities by collecting the scattered practices of a people, unifying them into coherent and meaningful possibilities for action, and epitomizing this unified and coherent meaning in a visible fashion.”5 Thus, we can see the relation that art has with the question of Being, and how it can help one get a better understanding or contemplation of it. It is through this idea that we can consider performance art, more specifically the works of Marina Abramović and Joseph Beuys, and contemplate how these artists express this topic as one of their main themes. 113

Before getting to interpret the works of these artists, it is useful to first consider performance art in general, in association with Heidegger’s question of Being. First, it is important to note that performance art is a form of art that strongly differs from all other types of art in that its essence as an artwork falls into the performance as it happens. Performance art fundamentally involves four basic elements: time, space, the performer’s body and the audience. It is through these, that the relationship between the performer and the audience is created. The performance is presented to an audience and can be scripted or unscripted, spontaneous or carefully planned, done in a museum, in a public space, or any other venue. Some performance works require the audience to simply watch the performance and others encourage participation from the audience.6 It is this presence of real time, real space, and real interaction that strongly relates to Heidegger’s question of Being expressed through art. Marina Abramović, a Serbian performance artist, has done works that can be strongly related to this question of Being. Throughout her career in the past three decades, she has been known for pushing the limits of performance art, and has never ceased to surprise her audience. Her works have involved self-mutilation, threat of assault and death, and also intense endurance.7 However, the element that is the most crucial for the completion of her works is the interaction between her and the audience. For her, what is essential is the result of what the participant/viewer will become after viewing her performance: The performance is a process. The public as well as the artist has to go into it. They must meet in a completely new territory, and build from that timeless time spent together. That's very important. Because you need that time so that some114

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thing can really happen as a performer. But the public also needs time for something to happen to them. Because they need time to adjust. I'm totally against all these short performances-two minutes, three minutes. It's really feeding an audience who doesn't have time. I don't have time in my life, but I have time in my performance. I always have time in my performance.8 Thus, we see that the state of the viewer is a crucial element in Abramović’s work, which relates to Heidegger’s question of Being. The viewer’s experience, while observing her works, will have an effect on the viewer’s being. Furthermore, in her works, the artist expresses the presence of human beings in the moment, in time and in space. She highlights this through her performances, acting in real life in front of an audience, and especially by testing her own endurance and pain. One example is her work Art Must Be Beautiful, Artist Must Be Beautiful, performed in 1975.9 In this work, Abramović continuously hits her face and her hair with a hairbrush while repeating the phrase, “art must be beautiful, artist must be beautiful.”9 In another more complex work, Lips of Thomas, also performed in 1975 (Fig. 1), Abramović first drinks a bottle of red wine and a kilo of honey, and then breaks the wine glass with her hand. Afterwards, she cuts the shape of the communist star on her stomach with a razor blade, whips herself until she bleeds and, finally, lies down on a cross, made out of ice. She stays lying on the cross until the audience intervenes and takes her away. One common characteristic between these two last works is that she inflicts pain on herself. She intentionally hurts herself in front of the audience, which also very much affects the way they perceive her artistic performance. In describing his question of Being, Heidegger recalls the concept of time in re117

lation to our presence. In other words, being present means being in the world, right here, right now. In essence, he claims that we, as beings, are delivered to a world that already exists. We do not have control in the ways that we are affected by the situations we find ourselves in, which further reveals the fundamental structure of the world and of our “being” in it.10 Especially in Lips of Thomas, Abramović marks her presence through her suffering and endurance. The whipping and the cross both refer to the suffering of Christ, “The fact that an act which involves pain or self-inflicted violence can be elevated to the level of rite clearly relates closely to Christian memory.”11 Although the works address many other issues beyond the question of Being, such as feminism and religion, it is clear that the self-inflicted pain will bring about an awareness of the body’s presence among the audience. This painful state that Abramović undergoes creates a strong sense of her presence about ‘right here, right now,’ as described by Heidegger. It is also what creates such relation between her and her audience. The audience feels her presence as they watch her performance, and undoubtedly gain some kind of experience from it. For one thing, there is the big question on what their role as an audience entails: Do they stop her? Do they simply witness what is happening and not do anything about it? Hence, we can see that on top of referring to the presence of the artist’s being in the world through self-inflicted pain, her performance brings about the question of Being among the audience as well. She illustrates that we are human, that we can suffer, and that we are all present in a same given time and space. Moreover, Abramović addresses the question of Being through physical references, also referring to the fact that our bodies are all matter. One of her artworks which does not involve any self-inflicted physical pain, but that does focus on this idea of beings as matter, is Cleaning the Mirror, performed in 1995 (Fig. 2). In this work, she vigorously 118

scrubs skeletal bones until they are all clean. As an audience, watching this performance creates a sense of recognition about our being, “While watching your innermost physical structure being picked painfully clean, you feel a sense of shocked recognition similar to seeing an x-ray.”12 Thus, looking at a skeleton, which constitutes our body, drives us, as viewers, to contemplate about our body and our sense of being in this world. It makes us think about what we are, that we are all matter. Another artist that addresses the question of being is a German performance artist, Joseph Beuys. During his career, he strongly supported the idea that every human being is an artist; that we, as humans, should exert our minds, use our knowledge and creativity, and be spiritual. Through his art, his aim was to make the viewer aware of the world’s conditions and to show that we can recover the damage that has been done.13 Unlike Abramović, whose focus is on our physicality in our presence and in our being, Beuys focuses more on our immateriality; the energy that he believed existed among all living things and shared among them, and which represents the intuition to be reborn and to regenerate our being-in-the-world.14 He believed that art can help us achieve this state because, similarly to Heidegger’s invention of a new language to express his ideas, art can help us perceive the imperceptible: To experience the presence of the immaterial within us and outside us, or rather through us, for this non-matter is inscribed neither in time nor in space. It is always there and never there, everywhere and nowhere, and can be revealed only beyond intelligence, as a presence that is felt without being understood.15

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Thus, we can once again see the importance of art as a means to express ideas and themes that are more obscure. In his works, Beuys often used substances such as fat, honey, wax and gelatin, because they are matters that change in shape depending on their environment and their properties, such as heat, cold, caloric value, and energy expenditure. He saw this characteristic as an emblematic value of the representation of the invisible characterization of the process of life, which in turn, emphasizes our being in the world. In his artwork, How to Explain Pictures to a Dead Hare (Fig. 1), performed in 1965 Beuys holds a dead hare in his arms and communicates with it with sounds, noises and silence. During this communication, his head is covered with honey and gold leaf, which are meant to represent the liquefaction of the process of thought. Its fluidity is meant to allow it to â&#x20AC;&#x153;glide towards levels of communication beyond human semantics.â&#x20AC;?16 Here, honey works as a link between the Earth and the heavens, and is considered like a substance that possesses immaterial forces. The connection between our being and our thoughts is evident in this work. Furthermore, another existential concept that is referred to in this work is what happens to us before life and death. The dead hare that he holds was initially born from the Earth. Now that it is dead, it will become part of Earth again. This artwork is about our presence in the world, which connects to Heideggerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s statement about the concept of time in relation to our presence. In essence, what is illustrated is that we are all part of the world and repeatedly delivered to it through life and death. Another one of his works done in 1970, Celtic +~ (Fig. 2), also refers to this energy that is passed around among all living beings. In his performance, he threw gelatin on the walls and on his head. He chose to use gelatin because he saw it as a means to soften thought and to restore its long lost mobility, considering that he saw the human mind as more rigid than it should be. He once again referred to the process of creation, 122

that â&#x20AC;&#x153;every man is an artist, since this process of creation can emerge from whoever has widened the scope of his perception from the inside.â&#x20AC;?17 In conclusion, the question of Being is by far one of the most complex questions that one can contemplate. While it is an issue that can be addressed in many ways, Marina AbramoviÄ&#x2021; focuses on our physical presence in the world, often hurting herself in her performances to make the viewers more conscious of the present time and space, and of our bodies as living beings in this world. In contrast, Joseph Beuys focuses much more on the spiritual energy that travels within all living beings, and tries to express the notion that all humans possess creativity and knowledge which characterize their being.

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END NOTES 1 --. Faith: The Impact of Judeo-Christian Religion on Art at the Millennium, (Connecticut: The Aldrich Museum of Contemporary Art, 2000), 15. 2 Hubert L. Dreyfus, "Heidegger, Martin." Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online. Oxford University Press, accessed November 23, 2012, http://0www.oxfordartonline.com. mercury.concordia.ca/subscriber/article/grove/art/T037 220. 3 Martin Heidegger, “Existence and Being,” Existentialism from Dostoevsky to Sartre, ed. Walter Kaufman, 129. 4 Hubert L. Dreyfus, and Mark A. Wrathall,“A Companion to Heidegger,” (Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., 2008), 12. 5 Ibid. 6 Oliver Parfitt, "Performance art," The Oxford Companion to Western Art, Oxford Art Online, Oxford University Press, accessed November 23, 2012, http://0www. oxfordartonline.com.mercury.concordia.ca/subscriber/ article/opr/t118/e201. 7 Mark Dawes, “Performance Art: Spectacle of the Body,” Circa Art Magazine, 74 (1995): 26. 8 Marina Abramović, Chris Thompson and Katarina 9 Weslien, “Pure Raw: Performance, Pedagogy, and (Re) presentation,” PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art 28, (2006): 34. 9 Art Must Be Beautiful, Artist Must Be Beautiful, by Marina Abramović, Charlottenburg Art Festival, Copenhagen, 1975. 10 Adrian Gorea, “Heidegger’s God: Creative Process as an Act of Faith” (lecture, ARTH 383: Contemporary Art Philosophy ad Religion: The Interrelations of the Sacred and Profane, Concordia University, October 15, 2012). 124

11 Mark Dawes, “Performance Art: Spectacle of the Body,” 27. 12 Ibid., 28. 13 Annie Suquet, “Archaic Thought and Ritual in the Work of Joseph Beuys,” RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, 28 (1995): 149. 14 Ibid.,150 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid., 154. 17 Ibid., 155. WORK CITED Abramović, Marina, Chris Thompson, and Katarina Weslien. “Pure Raw: Performance, Pedagogy, and (Re)presentation.” PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art 28 (2006): 29-50. Auslander, Philip. “The Performativity of Performance Documentation.” PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art 28 (2006): 1-10. Dawes, Mark. “Performance Art: Spectacle of the Body.” Circa Art Magazine 74 (1995): 26-29. Dreyfus, Hubert L. and Mark A. Wrathall. A Companion to Heidegger. Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., 2008. Dreyfus, Hubert L. "Heidegger, Martin." Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online. Oxford University Press, accessed November 23, 2012. http://0www.oxfordartonline.com.mercury.concordia.ca/ subscriber/article/grove/art/T037220. --. Faith: The Impact of Judeo-Christian Religion on Art at the Millennium. Connecticut: The Aldrich Museum of Contemporary Art, 2000. Heidegger, Martin. “Existence and Being.” Existentialism from Dostoevsky to Sartre, edited by Walter Kaufman. Accessed 125

November 23, 2012. http://www.marxists.org/reference/subject/ philosophy/works/ge/heidegg2. Parfitt, Oliver. "Performance art." The Oxford Companion to Western Art. Oxford Art Online. Oxford University Press, accessed November 23, 2012. http://0www.oxfordartonline.com.mercury. concordia.ca/subscriber/article/opr/t118/e201. Stein, Jean. “Marina Abramović Untitled.” Grand Street 63 (1998): 186-194. Suquet, Annie. “Archaic Thought and Ritual in the Work of Joseph Beuys.” RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics 28 (1995): 148-162. LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1: Marina Abramović, Lips of Thomas, 1973, two-chanel video, 111 minutes. Collection: Galerie Krinzinger, Innsbruck. Figure 2: Marina Abramović, Cleaning the Mirror, 1995, video, 3hours. Oxford University. Figure 3: Ute Klophaus, Joseph Beuys Joseph Beuys in the Action 'Explaining pictures to a dead hare', 1965 {printed later}, 1997 {printed} gelatin silver photograph 30.7 x 20.5 cm Art Gallery of New South Wales Mervyn Horton Bequest Fund 1997 © Ute Klophaus [Accn # 434.1997.9] Figure 4: Ute Klophaus, Joseph Beuys Joseph Beuys in the Action 'Celtic Edinburgh', 1970 {printed later}, 1997 {printed} gelatin silver photograph 31 x 20.2 cm Art Gallery of New South Wales Mervyn Horton Bequest Fund 1997 © Ute Klophaus [Accn # 434.1997.1] 126

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“WHETHER WE LOOK UPON THIS SPECTACLE BY DAY, UNDER A BLUE SKY THAT IS CLARIFIED BY THE REFLECTION OF THE LIMPID WATERS OF LAKE MICHIGAN; OR BY NIGHT, WHEN FRETTED WITH FIRES THAT OUT-SPANGLE THE VAULT OF HEAVEN, WITH FLYING FOUNTAINS BATHED IN FLOODS OF RAINBOW LIGHTS, AND OVERLOOKING DOMES BEJEWELED WITH GLITTERING CROWNS...WE FEEL THAT THE DREAM OF HOPE HAS COME TRUE....NOWHERE ELSE IN THE MODERN WORLD HAVE THE SKILL AND GENIUS OF SCULPTOR AND ARCHITECT BEEN SO PRODIGALLY BESTOWED.”1 128

EPHEMERAL CITY: THE 1893 WORLD'S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION AS GESAMTKUNSTWERK Written by Zoë Ritts Edited by Ashlee Griffiths

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n 1891, on the muddy southern shores of Lake Michigan, construction began on an almost-city. Not Chicago, just down the shoreline, but the site of what would open, in 1893, as the World Columbian Exhibition. In those two short years, white pavilions, gleaming and gargantuan, emerged on the landscape of what would later be Chicago’s Jackson Park. Yet it wasn’t only the speed with which the exhibition emerged but the scale of its features, some structures breaking historical records of size and interior volume, dimensions previously unimaginable in the nineteenth century.2 Housed within each of the hundreds of buildings on fair grounds were a similarly unimaginable and never before seen quantity and breadth of displays. Even the most abstract statistics give one an idea: twenty seven million visitors came to see the displays by the host nation and of eighty six participating countries, such as fourteen concerts a day, or a library of over 7,000 books, including forty seven translations of Uncle Tom’s Cabin alone.3 This essay will argue that the totally immersive and overwhelming environment of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair can be understood as a total work of art, or a Wagnerian Gesamtkunstwerk. This term can mean a synthesis of all the arts, which certainly applies to the Columbian Exhibition, but can also be understood to describe situations in which an audience is so sensorially engaged in an experience that 130

the line between art and life becomes obscured. Nineteenth century German composer Richard Wagner pioneered this term; while his writings on the Gesamtkunstwerk total work of art remain the foundations of the concept, contemporary art is rife with mutations and interpretations of the idea, from installation art to performance art. Particularly in the latter, artists test themselves through endurance or through situations where their personal lives become an artwork – art becomes life, life becomes art, though, importantly, only for a distinct period of time. The artistic phenomenon of Happenings, which emerged in the 1960s and were championed by Allan Kaprow, are helpful in explaining the Gesamtkunstwerk. A Happening is a time period or situation meant to be understood as art, even if it is only the repetition of a mundane, everyday act. Kaprow stated that “The Happening is performed according to plan but without rehearsal, audience, or repetition. It is art but seems closer to life.”4 This sentiment can be reversed and applied to the Columbian Exposition as a Gesamtkunstwerk: it was life but seems closer to art. To understand the phenomenon of the World’s Columbian Exposition, it is helpful to explore the popularity behind world fairs generally. Especially in the nineteenth century, when modes of mass travel were becoming increasingly available, and into the twentieth century world fairs were extremely popular in the eyes of both fair-goers and host-states. The wildly successful 1889 exhibition in Paris, for example, left its permanent mark on the city in the Eiffel tower, designed for the fair. The United States participated in the 1889 fair, but its efforts were “dismissed as coarse, unsophisticated, or at best derivative products of a rough-andready nation with no cultural heritage to call its own.”5 To host a world’s fair only four years after this embarrassment was therefore to remedy and enhance the global reputation of the United States. Their effort was not unambitious: “with 131

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the addition of Washington Park [to the original site at Jackson Park] the total [area of the fair ground] was 1,037 acres – nearly three times the space of any previous expositions.”6 The 1893 fair also held deeper historical national significance than other European fairs: the Chicago fair was also a celebration of the 400th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’ journey to America. Due to delays in construction, the opening of the Fair was six months late and thus happened in 1893 instead of 1892.7 Among the displays related to Columbus was a full scale replica of the La Rabida, a monastery in Spain that he visited before setting out on his expedition. The nationalist ideology behind the 1893 Chicago fair focused not only on the cultural heritage of the United States, but also on successes of its industry and technology. The Columbian Exposition thus held the even greater aim of representing, via the narrative of the discovery of America, “the entire progress of human history, with American civilization as its culminating triumph.”8 It also displayed American industry as the future of global business. In this sense, the cutting-edge atmosphere of the exhibits suited Wagner’s theory that the Gesamtkunstwerk represented and revealed the future of art.9 This patriotism extended to the notion that citizens, driven by a genuine, American “desire for self-improvement,”10 wanted to educate and cultivate themselves. “Education, going hand-in-hand with nationalist propaganda, was a central theme of the fair from its planning stages... to expose America’s own citizens to improving exhibits.”11 The desired refining effect on visitors was not intended to be only knowledge for its own sake, but was perceived as a way to improve moral character and overall societal betterment. In the fair’s exhibits, “American apostles of culture strenuously labored to inculcate the Victorian virtues of character – moral integrity, self-control, sober earnestness, industriousness – among the citizenry at large.”12 Most nineteenth century Chicagoans were working class, and the majority of 133

the population was of foreign parentage.13 The controversial decision to keep the fair open on Sundays reflected a sensitivity to Chicago’s working class population who would only be able to visit on that day.14 Through didactic exhibits, the Exposition aimed to unify in citizens recent and old a refined, distinctly American cultural heritage. One can understand the desire for improvement through education as an aspect of the nationalist essence of the Exposition, which can in turn be seen as the core idea in the work of art. The Official Guide to the Columbian Exposition ensured that: “To him who enters upon an examination of the greatest of World’s Fairs a liberal education is assured.”15 The breadth and sheer quantity of information on display supports this statement. Exhibits were displayed in the fourteen Great Buildings constructed by the United States, displaying American as well as international pieces. The amount of information and products on display within the buildings is suggested by the size of the buildings. The largest of all Great Buildings, and largest of all buildings on the site, was the Manufactures and Liberal Arts building covering a staggering, and rare for its time, 1.3 million square feet.16 Within the Agriculture building alone were housed an immense variety of flora and fauna, including an evenscale models of a Japanese garden and a Mexican desert.17 Each of the main buildings housed such a selection; to describe the exhaustive displays, scholars tend to overuse the term “known to man.” The architecture alone – the neoclassical behemoths, as well as the diverse structures designed by contributing countries – would have been enough of a marvel, regardless of their similarly magnificent interiors. These overwhelming displays, buildings, and overall cohesive design of the city-sized Exposition surely create an immersive environment in the Wagnerian sense.18 Wagner wrote: 134

To [a] complete art all the separate art-varieties must contribute: the plastic arts of architecture, painting, and sculpture, and especially the arts of man: dance and poetry and music. Also all the senses are enlisted, primarily the higher ones of vision and hearing, but by implication, those of touch and smell as well.19 In the sense that a Gesamtkunstwerk engages all senses, the Exposition succeeded: it engaged “more than just the mind and eye. New sounds assaulted the ear at every corner. African drumming, the creak of metallic joints in the Ferris Wheel, and the constant blare of contraptions called phonographs.” Thus, sounds, tastes, new experiences were all-pervasive - even smells, “from the fresh, humid breeze off Lake Michigan to the earthy odor of animals in the stock pens.”20 Educational exhibits alone were not responsible for engrossing fair-goers in the Gesamtkunstwerk of the fair. Some of the most popular and fantastically immersive exhibits of the Columbian Exposition were in fact ‘unofficial’ exhibits. In contrast to the pristine main fair grounds, other displays and shows could be seen at the “...anticlassical, and nonpristine underbelly [of the Exposition], the Midway Plaisance.”21 The Midway, essentially a sideshow of foreign products and less didactic displays, “had been kept grudgingly as a concession to public taste. The split reflected the distinction of Chicago’s custodians of culture and genteel critics at large between the arts that refined and those that merely amused.”22 Such scandalous displays on the Midway included a “genuine” belly-dancer in Little Egypt, whose hipswaying was considered indecent and provocative, but was very popular nonetheless.23 Many foreign nations who had space or pavilions in the main fairgrounds also had Midway exhibits where food, crafts and amusements were sold. Displays were me135

ticulously constructed to realistically represent each country’s cultural traditions and included “Turkish bazaars, South Sea island huts, Irish and German castles, and Indian tepees.”24 The “Laplander Village” consisted of twenty four Laplanders, from modern day Finland, “most from one family, [who] traveled to Chicago with nine reindeer, a number of dogs, sleds, hunting and fishing gear and personal effects.”25 This display not only obscured the boundaries between performance and life, but similarly obfuscated the role of the audience. Though the Laplanders were only recreating their daily routines, by doing so in an environment of performance and being watched by an audience, they became performers and their acts became a show. By interacting in the daily lives of the Laplanders, the audiences of the Laplander Village also became part of the artwork. The Laplander in particular is an important example of a Gesamtkunstwerk because it especially blurred the distinction between life and art. In his treatise on the artwork of the future, Wagner writes that when experiencing the total work of art, the “public, that representative of daily life, forgets the confines of the auditorium, and lives and breathes now only the artwork which seems to it as Life itself, and on the stage which seems the wide expanse of the whole World.”26 The experience of the Columbian Exposition was surreal in its scale and magnificence. It is hardly surprising then that in order to describe it, contemporaneous visitors and reviewers resort to divine language. Chicago artist W. Hamilton Gibson “even went so far as to say that the exposition was a realization of what the sons of Adam had fancied as the “Heavenly City,” a nickname that stuck. 27 Accounts of initial experiences of the fair speak of visiting the fair as a semi-religious experience. Steamers from downtown Chicago’s harbour carried most visitors down the shoreline past “a miles-long collection of warehouses, stately residences, factories and sky-cleaving towers and steeples along the shore and inland.” Then, 136

suddenly, almost like a mirage, the White City would appear – at first an indistinguishable mass of gleaming white structures. Slowly, as passengers strained to focus, the largest palaces and towers would single themselves out, creating a stark panorama often likened to a New Jerusalem.28 These heavenly associations of transcendence and surreality given to the Exposition by visitors only underline the strength of the environment of illusion the fair created. A crucial component of this illusion, like any performative art work, is its temporary nature. The Exposition grounds appeared seemingly out of nowhere in part because of speed of their construction. The Exposition was intended to be temporary, but this is in part because it simply could not have physically existed permanently. Of over 200 ‘grand’ buildings and pavilions built, only the Art Building was fireproof, to protect valuable artworks, and made of stone. All the other buildings were not made from marble, as they appeared to be, but instead of staff, “a compound of plaster and fibrous binding, clothing, wood and steel.”29 The Exposition owes its grandeur to this material, which allowed architects to indulge in “‘a magnitude never before attempted; [staff] made it possible...to reproduce with fidelity and accuracy the best details of ancient architecture, to erect temples, colonnades, towers, and domes of surpassing beauty and of noble proportions”30 affordably and quickly. This inherent ephemeral nature of the Exposition was not lost on visitors in 1893. The American novelist Walter Besant wrote “I observe that most people...set down their tears to the evanescent nature of the show. ‘Three months more,’ they say, ‘and it will be gone like a dream. The pity of it!’ Nay, dear friends, but the Vastness of it!”31 Not only could the Exposition grounds, or the ‘White City’, as it was also known, not sustain itself financially, since the electric137

ity used to illuminate the fair at night was three times as much as the city of Chicago used per night,32 but it would have ceased to be so miraculous. This innate paradox also informs an understanding of the fair as a Gesamtkunstwerk. Had it been a permanent part of Chicago, constructed to last, it would have become part of daily life. Like a Happening, the 1893 Exposition needed an end in order to have meaning and in order to be art. The Columbian Exposition was a major triumph for the United States. The fair brought millions of visitors to Chicago, and carries the legacy of being among the most lavish ever, even by contemporary standards.33 Not only did the fair inspire a generation of artists and architects, such as a young Frank Lloyd Wright, and provide major jobs in Chicago, it also engendered greater public access and exposure to art, architecture, and other cultures. 34 It was also the grand celebration of Columbus it intended to be, and “symbolized the shift in political, social, and economic sway from the East to the West. In that shift lay the basis of America’s emergent national unity, while simultaneously locating it on the global stage.35 Beyond celebration and promoting cultural interest “[the] success of the exposition was threefold...success of unity, of magnitude, of illusion.”36 To experience the magnitude of the White City and all it had to offer would be to participate in the ultimate sensorial artwork. It is difficult from our current era to understand how rare it then was to experience such a place - the sheer scale, the volume of information and exhibits, the surreality of this temporary site. It is best understood as a phenomenon, or a Gesamtkunstwerk; it was a heavenly dream that only existed for a short, incredible moment.

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END NOTES 1 David F. Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893 (Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 1976), 90. 2 Ibid., 97. “Or perhaps it was enough just to know that the Manufactures Building was the largest roofed structure ever erected.” 3 Kiri Miller, “Americanism Musically: Nation, Evolution, and Public Education at the Columbian Exposition, 1893,” 19th-Century Music 27 (Autumn, 2003), 3.; Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893, 89.; Ibid, 172.; Ibid, 174. 4 Fred S. Kleiner, Gardner’s Art Through the Ages, Thirteenth Edition (Boston: Wadsworth, Cengage Learning, 2010), 793. 5 Miller, “Americanism Musically,” 2. 6 Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893, 83. 7 Miller, “Americanism Musically,” 4. 8 Ibid, 2. 9 Wagner Library, “Richard Wagner, The Art-Work of the Future,” www.users.belgacom.net/wagnerlibrary/prose/ wagartfut.htm (accessed January 21st, 2010). 10 Miller, “Americanism Musically,” 7. 11 Ibid., 4. 12 John F. Kasson, Amusing the Million (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978), 4. 13 Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893, 66. 14 Ibid., 90. 15 Miller, “Americanism Musically,” 4. 16 Norman Bolotin and Christine Laing, The World’s Columbian Exposition (Chicago: The University of Illinois Press, 1992), 11. 17 Ibid., 84. 139

18 Ibid., 17. 19 Edward Arthur Lippman, “The Esthetic Theories of Richard Wagner,” The Musical Quarterly 44 (Apr., 1958), 3. 20 Bolotin, The World’s Columbian Exposition, 82. 21 Judy Sund, “Columbus and Columbia in Chicago,” The Art Bulletin 75 (Sep., 1993), 13. 22 Kasson, Amusing the Million, 23. 23 Bolotin, The World’s Columbian Exposition, 82. 24 Kasson, Amusing the Million, 24. 25 Bolotin, The World’s Columbian Exposition, 126. 26 Wagner Library, “Richard Wagner, The Art-Work of the Future,” Web. 27 Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893, 113. 28 Bolotin, The World’s Columbian Exposition, 31. 29 Kasson, Amusing the Million, 18. 30 Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893, 152. 31 Ibid., 113. 32 Kasson, Amusing the Million, 21. 33 Miller, “Americanism Musically,” 3.; Kasson, Amusing the Million, 17. 34 David Gebhard, “A Note on the Chicago Fair of 1893 and Frank Lloyd Wright,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 18 (May, 1959), 2.; Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893, 320. 35 Ibid., 333. 36 Ibid., 176.

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WORK CITED Bolotin, Norman and Christine Laing. The World’s Columbian Exposition. Chicago: The University of Illinois Press, 1992. Burg, David F. Chicago’s White City of 1893. Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 1976. Colomina, Beatriz. “Information obsession: the Eamses’ multiscreen architecture,” The Journal of Architecture 6 (Autumn 2001), 205 – 223. Gebhard, David. “A Note on the Chicago Fair of 1893 and Frank Lloyd Wright,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 18 (May, 1959), 63 – 65. Kasson, John F. Amusing the Million. New York: Hill and Wang, 1978. Kleiner, Fred S. Gardner’s Art Through the Ages: Thirteenth Edition. Boston: Wadsworth, Cengage Learning, 2010. Lippman, Edward A. “The Esthetic Theories of Richard Wagner,” The Musical Quarterly 44 (Apr., 1958): 209 – 220. Miller, Kiri. “Americanism Musically: Nation, Evolution, and Public Education at the Columbian Exposition, 1893,” 19thCentury Music 27 (Autumn, 2003), 137 – 155. Sund, Judy. “Columbus and Columbia in Chicago,” The Art Bulletin 75 (Sep., 1993), 443 – 466. Wagner Library, “Richard Wagner, The Art-Work of the Future”, www.users.belgacom.net/wagnerlibrary/prose/wagartfut.htm (accessed January 21st, 2010). 141

Ware, Chris. Jimmy Corrigan, The Smartest Kid on Earth. Chicago: Pantheon Books, 2000.

LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1. World’s Columbian Exposition, Grand Basin, Chicago, IL, 1891-1893. Frederick L. Olmsted & Company, Ryerson and Burnham Archives, The Art Institute of Chicago. Digital File # ©L019178 The Art Institute of Chicago.

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[…] USANT DE L’ARCHITECTURE, DE L’ENVIRONNEMENT, DE LA VIDÉO ET DU SON COMME MÉDIUM, [ALTER BAHNHOF VIDEO WALK] OUVRE UNE BRÈCHE D’ÉTRANGETÉ DANS L’ORDINAIRE, AFIN DE CERNER LES MOMENTS DE LUCIDITÉ QUI NOUS GARDENT PLEINEMENT VIVANTS. 144

JANET CARDIFF ET GEORGE BURES MILLER : ALTER BAHNHOF VIDEO WALK Written by Anne-Marie Trépanier Edited by Ashley Ornawka

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’hégémonie médiatique spécifique à l’ère numérique offre un paysage urbain et domestique parsemé d’écransportails, qui canalisent notre attention et nous transportent ailleurs, sans même que l’on s’en aperçoive. Comme le décrit Marshall McLuhan dans son ouvrage The Medium Is the Message, notre entrée dans l’âge électronique résulte en une extériorisation du système nerveux humain.1 Démontrant la multidimensionnalité de l’époque actuelle, il affirme que notre société effectue un retour aux traditions orales et auditives, relatives à la convoitise de la simultanéité.2 De plus, ce regain des sens auditifs et tactiles marque un retour à une temporalité non-linéaire, caractéristique d’un mode de pensée tribal et primitif. Ainsi, l’individu équipé de l’attirail technologique peut maintenant circuler librement à travers une multitude de dimensions, puis alterner à sa guise entre le réel et le virtuel. Oscillant entre ces deux concepts, Janet Cardiff et George Bures Miller composent des marches auditives et vidéographiques qui s’intègrent à l’environnement immédiat. Ils construisent une copie conforme à la réalité, toutefois scénarisée, qui brouille les frontières entre le milieu tangible et les éléments enregistrés. Leur œuvre intitulée Alter Bahnhof Video Walk, fut présentée lors de la dernière édition de dOCUMENTA, l’un des plus grands rassemblements d’art moderne et contemporain au monde, prenant place à tous les cinq ans dans la ville de Kassel, en Alle146

magne. En usant de l’architecture, de l’environnement, de la vidéo et du son comme médium, cette œuvre ouvre une brèche d’étrangeté dans l’ordinaire afin de cerner les moments de lucidité qui nous gardent pleinement vivants. Élaborée spécifiquement pour la gare de train de Kassel, Alter Bahnhof Video Walk s’inscrit dans la série de marches vidéo produite par le duo Cardiff/Miller. Afin de participer à cette œuvre interactive, chaque visiteur se voit remettre un iPod touch de même qu’une paire d’écouteurs, desquels leur sont transmises une bande vidéo et une piste sonore. Se situant dans un espace architectural identique à celui présenté par le dispositif, le spectateur poursuit les directives narrées par la voix suave d’une femme (celle de Janet Cardiff elle-même) qui le dirige à travers la gare. Cette même voix, harmonisée à la vidéo, nous invite à adopter le point de vue de choisi par l’artiste lors de l’enregistrement. Imitant la caméraman, le visiteur pointe l’écran de son sur divers personnages, situations et éléments d’architecture. Ce qui apparaît d’autant plus frappant pour le participant, ce n’est pas tant la manière dont les deux univers concordent, mais comment ils se détachent l’un de l’autre (Fig. 1). Or, l’espace physique déroge à l’action vécue et favorise la confusion du spectateur face au dédoublement du réel. Circulant à travers les différents étages et plateformes de la gare, le spectateur sent l’attention de la narratrice et des personnages portée sur lui. Une ballerine, un couple de danseurs et une fanfare s’interposent sur son chemin, comme si le spectateur était situé au centre de l’attraction. Cependant, alors qu’il lève les yeux sur les passants, il réalise qu’il est l’unique témoin de ces évènements invraisemblables. Perdu dans un labyrinthe inquiétant d’éléments imaginaires et de repères réels, l’observateur immergé dans l’œuvre tente tant bien que mal de poursuivre les personnages fuyant hors du cadre de la vidéo. Cette intrusion du virtuel dans le « vrai » monde aiguise les sens du public qui, suivant la narration de 147

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récits personnels nébuleux, incère sa propre intimité dans les interstices laissées par l’artiste. Suscitant un enchevêtrement singulier d’univers distincts, Janet Cardiff entrelace la vidéo et la réalité, le souvenir et la conscience, l’artificiel et le naturel, le corporel et le virtuel, ainsi que le « Soi » et l’« Autre ».3 Jumelant l’appareil électronique à l’expérience vécue, Alter Bahnhof Video Walk éveille les capacités sensorielles du spectateur qui, à travers la sphère sonore et visuelle, évolue entre le passé et le présent. Les expérimentations du couple Cardiff-Miller se situent à la lisière de la réalité et de la virtualité. Conscients de la frontière fragile qui délimite ces deux dimensions, ils s’attardent à préserver un contact entre le spectateur et le monde extérieur, l’empêchant ainsi de se laisser avaler par l’univers numérique.4 Imbriqué entre l’écran et les écouteurs, le participant est témoin d’une confusion entre l’environnement sonore tridimensionnel et son entourage : les sons qui lui parviennent à l’oreille ne se matérialisent pas devant son regard, comme il l’aurait convenu.5 De plus, l’architecture inaltérée met en valeur les divergences entre les gestes des personnages présents dans la vidéo et de ceux circulant dans le monde réel. La fraction provoquée par la disparité opposant ces deux univers entraine une incertitude chez le spectateur, qui accorde à la vidéo une préséance sur le réel. Le rapport entre la représentation et l’objet étant dorénavant renversé, la prédominance du conçu sur le perçu est à ce jour indéniable.6 Ces expériences hallucinatoires, causées par la superposition de l’ouïe et de la vue, distinguent les marches vidéo des marches audio de Janet Cardiff. Assiégeant la banalité du quotidien, elle troque les scénarios préconçus pour des constructions déconcertantes, grâce auxquelles elle transporte les auditeurs dans différents portails spatio-temporels. Tout au long de ses interventions avec le spectateur, la narratrice reste ambiguë quant à la véridicité des 149

évènements qu’elle relate. Toutefois, les souvenirs impromptus éveillés chez le participant s’avèrent bien réels. Les diverses situations, imposées par Cardiff dans le parcours, servent de faux souvenirs qui visent à être réinterprétés par le spectateur selon son expérience personnelle.7 Une pensée en éveille une autre; le participant se retrouve ainsi saisi par sa propre mémoire. Imitant la structure de jeux vidéo, la marche vidéo Alter Bahnhof est organisée telle une réalité virtuelle, se fondant toutefois sur des lieux véritables. Une telle stratégie permet de conserver la conscience physique de l’individu, souvent minimisée par les nouveaux médias. Or, le travail de Janet Cardiff et George Bures Miller ne se conforme pas à l’usage habituel des nouvelles technologies. Profitant d’un avancement technique continu, ils inspectent les effets de ces technologies hyperréalistes sur l’esprit humain.8 Contrairement aux médias traditionnels qui tendent à restreindre la portée des sens et à dissocier l’individu de ses références spatio- temporelles, Alter Bahnhof Video Walk manifeste la capacité des médias à attiser nos perceptions sensorielles.9 Allant à l’encontre du cinéma et des autres médias de diffusion audiovisuelle, l’œuvre de Cardiff et Miller extirpe l’auditoire de son siège pour lui attribuer en main propre le dispositif médiatique. La marche contraint le spectateur à déambuler à travers différents sites, de même qu’à ressentir, physiquement et mentalement, le monde qui l’entoure. L’individualité de chacun est respectée et mise en valeur dans cette pièce qui harmonise l’intrigue fictive et l’expérience personnelle projetée dans l’œuvre.10 De plus, la culture prothétique exposée par Marshall McLuhan dans son chapitre « The Mechanical » se trouve au cœur du contexte d’émergence des marches audio et vidéo de Janet Cardiff et George Bures Miller. Optimisé à l’aide d’intelligences artificielles, de modifications génétiques et de gadgets électroniques, le corps humain est aujourd’hui sublimé par la 150

Figure 2

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machine et l’information numérique.11 Le cyborg, décrit par Donna Haraway dans son « Manifeste cyborg », devient un organisme bionique hybride entre l’homme et la machine prédominé dans ce cyberespace posthumaniste où individus et robots se confondent.12 Ainsi, l’enveloppe corporelle peut être améliorée ou échangée contre d’autres prothèses, permettant à l’humain d’interagir avec diverses technologies intelligentes.13 Dans ce contexte, la finalité de l’Alter Bahnhof Video Walk nous apparaît d’autant plus claire. À travers une omniprésence médiatique globalisante, nous sommes constamment défaits de l’environnement dans lequel nous nous trouvons. Que ce soit dans les journaux, à la télévision ou sur Internet, notre attention se laisse capter par ce qui se passe « ailleurs ». Incessamment désincarné, notre esprit s’envole de notre enveloppe corporelle, puis nous perdons le lien nous rattachant au réel. En s’appropriant les nouveaux médias, le duo Cardiff/Miller intervertit le rôle des nouvelles technologies pour contrebalancer la division entre l’être et sa conscience spatio- temporelle.14 Leur marche vidéo remet en question la liberté supposément accordée par les technologies interactives et les environnements immersifs, en plus d’entretenir un rapport ambigu avec la «technosophie» du cyberespace.15 Dès lors, Alter Bahnhof Video Walk consolide notre liaison à la vulnérabilité du corps, de la nature et de la mémoire, menacé par l’exactitude prééminente du virtuel et de l’archivage numérique.16 L’attention portée à chaque participant de la promenade prend parfois une tournure particulièrement intime et profonde. Murmures et chuchotements de la narratrice dévoilent une pensée interne et intime, qui semble parfois provenir de notre propre conscience. La désinvolture du discours de Cardiff incite le spectateur à obéir à ses ordres. Le participant est nourrit d’une curiosité se rapprochant du voyeurisme. En intégrant une expérience intime dans un milieu public, elle travaille en parallèle avec la condi152

tion exhibitionniste des médias sociaux. De plus, la culture médiatique intégrale et homogénéisée semble motiver la fusion du « Soi » et de « l’Autre » dans l’œuvre Alter Bahnhof Video Walk. S’intéressant au mécanisme du dialogue, elle brouille les délimitations entre le « Je » et le « Tu », provoquant une confusion entre l’auditeur et l’interlocuteur.17 Derechef, l’interactivité suggérée par Janet Cardiff favorise l’interprétation libre du participant, qui développe son propre réseau de sens utile à sa compréhension de l’œuvre.18 En définitive, l’œuvre Alter Bahnhof Video Walk de Janet Cardiff et de George Bures Miller fusionne la réalité et la fiction de manière à créer un univers à la fois angoissant et apaisant. Muni d’un dispositif de diffusion audiovisuelle, le visiteur voit sa vision et son ouïe prendre de l’expansion. Déjoué par sa propre conscience, il tente de projeter son histoire personnelle dans les interstices disposés par l’artiste. L’espace architectural de la gare ainsi stratifié de mémoires historiques et intimes devient ardu de discerner le vrai du faux : le conçu et le perçu se retrouvent ainsi sans dessus dessous. S’emparant des nouvelles technologies, le couple Cardiff-Miller s’attarde à réincorporer l’individu dans le monde réel. La nature immersive de leur travail permet de nous ancrer dans le milieu spatio-temporel, contrairement aux technologies populaires, qui tendent plutôt à nous désincarner. À la fin de son parcours, l’individu se retrouve déboussolé et confus par la tension créée entre le visible et l’invisible. Enfin, le travail de Janet Cardiff et George Bures Miller évolue conjointement à l’interprétation et à l’implication du public. Somme toute, ce sera aux spectateurs de conclure leur expérience.

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END NOTES 1 Marshall McLuhan, « The Gadget Lover, » Understanding Media : The Extensions of Man, (New York : McGraw-Hill, 1964), 53. 2 Ernestine Daubner, Lecture III : McLuhan’s Technological Extensions & Early Technological Art, dans le cadre du cours ARTH 353 : Art & Technology, session d’automne 2012, Université Concordia. 3 Christov-Bakargiev, « An Intimate Distance Riddled with Gaps : The Art of Janet Cardiff. » Janet Cardiff : A Survey of Works Including Collaborations with George Bures Miller, (Long Island City : P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center, 2002), 33. 4 Janet Cardiff and Mirjam Schaub, « Introduction, » Janet Cardiff : The Walk Book, (New York : Walther König, Köln, 2005), 16. 5 Ibid. 6 Margot Lovejoy, « Art in the Age of Digital Simulation, » Postmodern Currents : Art and Artists in the Age of Electronic Media, (Upper Saddle River, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1997), 162. 7 Cardiff and Schaub, Janet Cardiff, 243. 8 Christov-Bakargiev, « An Intimate Distance Riddled with Gaps, » 14. 9 George Bures Miller, interview by Brigitte Kölle, Wayne Baerwaldt, The Paradise Institute, (Venice : XLIX Biennale di Venezia, 2001), 15. 10 Marnie Fleming, « A Large Slow River, » A Large Slow River. Janet Cardiff, (Oakville, Ontario : Oakville Galleries, 2000), 40. 11 Christov-Bakargiev, « An Intimate Distance Riddled with 154

Gaps, » 28. 12 Donna Haraway, «A Manifesto for Cyborgs : Science, Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century, » Simians, Cyborgs and Women : The Reinvention of Nature, (New York : Routledge, 1991), 149. 13 Katherine Hayles, « Chapter One : Toward Embodied Virtuality, » How We Became Posthuman: virtual bodies in cybernetics, literature, and informatics, (Chicago, Ill: University of Chicago Press, 1999), 3. 14 Christov-Bakargiev, « An Intimate Distance Riddled with Gaps, » 33. 15 Ibid., 34. 16 Ibid., 33-34. 17 Ibid., 31. 18 Lovejoy, « Art in the Age of Digital Simulation, » 165.

WORK CITED “Alter Bahnof Video Walk.” Janet Cardiff, Georges Bures Miller. Accessed November 17, 2012. http://www.cardiffmiller.com/ artworks/walks/alterbahnhof_video.html. Baerwald, Wayne et al. The Paradise Institute, Venice : XLIX Biennale di Venezia, 2001. Christov-Bakargiev, Carolyn. « An Intimate Distance Riddled with Gaps : The Art of Janet Cardiff. » dans Janet Cardiff : A Survey of Works Including Collaborations with George Bures Miller,14-35. Long Island City : P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center, 2002. Fleming, Marnie. « A Large Slow River. » dans A Large Slow River. Janet Cardiff, Oakville, Ontario : Oakville Galleries, 2000. 155

Haraway, Donna. « A Manifesto for Cyborgs : Science, Technology and Socialist Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century. » dans Simians, Cyborgs, and Women : The Reinvention of Nature, 149181. New York : Routledge, 1991. Hayles, Katherine. « Chapter One : Toward Embodied Virtuality. » dans How We Became Posthuman: virtual bodies in cybernetics, literature, and informatics, 1-24. Chicago, Ill: University of Chicago Press, 1999. Lovejoy, Margot. « Art in the Age of Digital Simulation. » dans Postmodern Currents : Art and Artists in the Age of Electronic Media, 154-211. Upper Saddle River, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1997. McLuhan, Marshall. « The Gadget Lover » dans Understanding Media : The Extensions of Man, 51-56. New York : McGraw-Hill, 1964. Cardiff, Janet, and Mirjam Schaub. Janet Cardiff : The Walk Book. New York : Walther König, Köln, 2005. LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1: Alter Bahnhof Video Walk, . Still frame from representational video of the walk. Figure 2: Gare de train de Kassel, 2012. Photo par : Anne-Marie Trépanier.

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AT NEARLY THE HIGHEST POINT OF THE CITY, VISIBLE FROM SAINT CATHRINE STRIP JOINTS TO RITZY HOLT RENFREW STOREFRONTS, THE MOUNT ROYAL CROSS IS A STAKE STUCK IN A CITY OF SEDUCTION AND SCANDAL

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THE TWO SIDES OF MOUNTAIN: THE MORAL DUALITY OF MONTREAL’S CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE Written by Nina Vroemen Edited by Erika Couto

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t nearly the highest point of the city, visible from Saint Catherine strip joints to ritzy Holt Renfrew storefronts, the Mount Royal Cross is a stake stuck in a city of seduction and scandal. The unholy history of the Cross casts a long shadow from its time of erection to its current controversies. The Cross, as a deeply symbolic monument, is the central focus of this essay, revealing the paradox between the architectural symbols and the socio-political gestures of this iconic landmark and the city itself. The Cross can be read as an incongruous narrative that emerges from the fabric of Montreal’s cityscape revealing the superficiality that plagues the reality of Montreal: a contemporary, urban, and industrial city. The Cross was originally erected in 1924 to commemorate the humble wooden crucifix that the city’s founder, Paul de Chomedey, Sieur de Maisonneuve, had staked into the ground, three decades earlier. In 1643 during a period of ceaseless flooding, with high water threatening the city’s initial settlement, the rain miraculously cleared after Maisonneuve prayed to the Holy Virgin. In thanks for this miracle, he climbed to the top of the mountain and placed a wooden crucifix there in her honor. Although the original cross has never been found, the idea of erecting a monument in commemoration of the founder’s devotion was conceived “on the occasion of the 40th anniversary of the founding of 160

the St. Jean Baptiste Society... in 1874.”1 The responsibility of designing the Cross was given to Sulpician priest, Reverend Pierre Dupaign, renowned for his Renaissance-Man reputation: as a builder, designer, artist, poet, musician and composer.2 When erected, the Cross stood eight hundred and twenty eight feet above the shore of the St. Lawrence River facing North-East, with its arms stretching thirty-feet across and structurally six feet in width.3 The original construction had two hundred and forty 75-watt lights built within the frame making it visible from forty miles away.4 However, this design was not Pierre Dupaign’s original vision for the cross; he had wished it to look and function much differently than it does today. His design included “a suitable base to house the Cross...that would first of all raise the Cross one hundred and fifty feet...comprise a staircase and include space for a chapel shrine to Our Lady of Montreal.”5 The plan had also included a “living quarter in the concrete base of the cross for a caretaker.”6 However, this dream of Reverend Pierre Dupaign was never lived out. Instead, the base remains an intricate network of steel lacing, resembling more a train bridge than a religious monument. Suitably so, the steel that was used to construct the cross was donated by the Dominion Bridge Co. Ltd who were known at the time for constructing some of Canada’s first steel bridges such as Montreal’s Jacques Cartier Bridge, 1929.7 The “2,000 pieces of steel and 6,376 clinches” can be seen as a remission for sins given that Dominion Bridge Co. was not only Canada’s leading bridge company but, more notoriously, was also its leading weapons provider during the First World War.8 Considering the ceasefire was only five years earlier, one can presume that the Cross, a Christian symbol of peace and devotion, was controversially built with the profits of war. Other contributors involved in the project were 161

local architects Donat Gascon and Louis Parent. Their firm is known for the construction of a number of Montreal’s schools and religious buildings.9 Gascon and Parent were responsible for carrying out the architectural practicalities of Revered Pierre Dupaign design, however the labor to execute this design was predominantly funded by school children. The stamp sale for “The Cross on Mount Royal” printed in 1924 [was] sold by students for 5 cents apiece and 25 cents a book. In that way $10,000 was raised through the help of 88,000 school children and 12,000 pupils of different colleges.10 The fraught dedication of these elementary school children reflects the reverence and influential position of the Catholic Church in Quebec at the time. The idea that nearly ninety thousand children were motivated to voluntarily raise such a large sum of money for such an austere statue reflects the church’s power and its implications on youth consciousness in the 1920’s. Shockingly, there is no indicator at the Cross that grants recognition to these children who independently funded one of Montreal’s most iconic landmarks. The early nineteenth century marks a period in Quebec history where juvenile delinquency was not tolerated and children were rigorously policed. Perhaps this omission of the children's contributions to the Cross is the result of an unfavorable gaze, where children's acts of goodwill were seen as social obligations, not worthy of redemption. In fact, Montreal was one of the first cities in Canada to establish a juvenile court in 1912.11 According to Montreal historian Tamara Myres: The Montreal Juvenile Delinquents’ Court charged thousands of boys with a variety of delinquent acts. Unlike other jurisdictions this court was not overly 162

concerned with truancy...justifying substantial sentences in reform institutions where they might obtain rudimentary learning and acquire industrial skills.12 Thus, while some Quebec school children were busy selling stamps to fund Sulpician Pierre Dupaign’s Mount Royal Cross, others in Montreal were laboring in the industrial sector; sentenced to a livelihood that Mount Royal Park’s creator, Fredrick Law Olmsted, considered inhumane. It is precisely this awareness of the harsh, unlivable conditions of urban industrialization that American landscaper and social critic, Fredrick Olmsted, sought to remedy in creating the Mount Royal Park. His inspiration was to design a refuge from the brutal, sickening conditions of the industrial world: He [Olmsted] observed that the living conditions in industrial cities were often worse than those of slaves, who were often treated better than the children toiling in factories. From then on, Olmsted sought to make the beauty of green spaces, until then the reserve of the aristocracy, accessible to all Americans.13 Nearly fifty years before the Mount Royal Cross was erected, Olmsted had ensured the grounds to be sacred, a sanctuary from the city. In 1876, the Mount Royal Park was officially opened. It was well received by its citizens who celebrated its inauguration: “The opening ceremony on the mountain was preceded by a parade through the streets of Montréal.”14 At a time when social class divided the city in respected boroughs, Olmsted sought out to create an arboreous refuge, free of social stratification; “[he] wished to preserve the natural charm of the mountain... [moreover] He wanted the 163

park to be accessible to everyone, regardless of social class or physical condition.”15 The social awareness that inspired his design was revolutionary for the time. The integration of social and environmental concerns in urban planning was not customary, as it is today. However, the social consciousness that inspired Olmsted’s design shifted to a more conservative gaze in the 1950s prompting drastic city alterations... one of which severely changed the face of the mountain forever. It was some twenty five years after the Holy Cross was erected on Mount Royal that Montreal mayor, Jean Drapeau, decided that something needed to be done to prevent the “unholy” behavior that was occurring on the mountain: “In the 1950s, the forest undergrowth was “cleaned up” for greater visibility, so as to control activities that were judged immoral.”16 The cross was to be one of the only things left standing after the 1954 “Morality Cut’s” that decimated the mountain’s vegetation and created a hostile environment for its visitors. Mayor Drapeau felt it to be a necessary procedure to prevent “gays, perverts and criminals” from engaging in “scandalous” behavior behind the bushes.17 To expose “them”, Drapeau drastically made the decision to strip a large portion of the trees from the mountain, “leading to the nickname “bald mountain.””18 The beautiful old trees Olmsted had carefully preserved and planted were clear-cut in the name of ‘goodwill’ and ‘safety’. The park that once provided a refuge from the city was left to bear but the cross, appearing hostile and dogmatic. Jean Drapeau went to great lengths to clean up the city’s image, enforcing better litter management, remedying traffic congestion and aggressively cracking down on organized crime. Although Jean Drapeau did succeed in improving some aspects of the city, his rash decisions and overall conduct resulted in much scandal, especially during the Olympics. In contrast to the supposed Catholic ethics of reverence and humility that motivated the parks razing, Mayor Jean Drapeau was also responsible for 164

some of the most extravagant city spending. Drapeau promised "a modest Games"— [however] After only one meeting, Roger Taillibert of France, brilliant and eccentric, was awarded the contract to design the Olympic stadium, without an open competition. It was to cost $60 million. He had never designed anything in a climate like Montreal's.19 This frivolous, machoistic squandering is a testament to the hypocrisy of Drapeau’s morals that had previously decimated the mountain’s vegetation. The decision to strip the mountain of its natural properties can be seen as a symbolic gesture that communicates the trend in “moral” measures that ironically result in harm and further corruption. As scholar David Watkin describes: “Architecture expresses social, moral, and philosophical conditions, and that if one knows enough about such conditions in a given period one can therefore predict what its architecture will be and declare what it should be.”20 Yet, Montreal undermines this theory by investing in architectural projects that are in conflict with the socio-political atmosphere of the time. Especially problematic is Montreal’s contemporary architecture that emphasizes the incongruity between the city’s ethics/ needs versus its architectural undertakings. Watkin continues, “architecture is an instrument for attainment of social policy employed to achieve supposedly ‘moral’ ends... [where as] contemporary architecture takes its start in a moral problem...”21 The issue that arises in this theory is the subjectivity in identifying “problems”. Depending on a person’s particular class, social, political or economic standpoint, a “problem” can, in another case, be a blessing. Moreover, the particular remedy that is chosen for the problem may in turn create others. Often times these problem-projects are performed in an extravagant fashion, concentrating more 165

on gaining recognition than efficiently solving the problem. These types of architectural projects are a testament to the trend in contemporary architecture that creates spectacles rather than useful spaces. As Mark Wigley explains, “Treating each project as if it might be their last ... Projects turn into projectiles, and architectural quality is judged by the number of images that land around the world.”2 This contemporary habit of architectural extravagance is not only evident in Drapeau’s Olympic over- spending but is also bound to the history of the Mount Royal Cross. In 1991, under the governance of Mayor Jean Doré, the city decided to upgrade the mountain’s Catholic emblem. During the midst of a recession, the city’s administration approved a plan to replace the existing bulbs with advance fibre-optic lighting costing the city over $300,000.23 In the hopes of justifying the grandiose investment, the city claimed that the new lights would be more energy efficient and would, in comparison to the previous lighting system, save maintenance, time and money: “The $300,000 investment will now free the city from the need to replace 156 bulbs, each priced at about 50 cents. The cross can now go purple with just the tap of a button...”24 The new lighting was not only brighter—intensifying the glare of the pious religious symbol—but it also integrated, within the structure, a complex color system that allows the cross to change from red, blue to purple: “The purple lights shine when a pope dies. It seems that when two popes died in 1978 workers twice had to dip the light bulbs into purple paint.”25 The occasional inconvenience of changing burnt lights and the tedious ordeal of having to dip each individual bulb in purple paint, on the off-chance that the pope dies, was felt to be reason enough for such a lofty investment. Yet, given the economic fragility, when the recession was causing citizens to lose their jobs and city services were experiencing drastic cutbacks, the unnecessary extravagance of the upgrade was received as glutinous 166

and borderline sinful. As an editorial from the Montreal Gazette explains, “What would be far thriftier, and far less tacky, would be not to honor a deceased pope like this in the first place.”26 It appears that extravagant city projects, like the Cross’s upgrade, are chosen to distract the public gaze from the immediate problems of the city; investing in costly projects that do more damage than good: “Excess in particular sites are broadcast across the planet to mask deficiencies in the wider terrain.”27 Thus, Doré, during the economic crisis of the 1990s recession, reacted by taking the opportunity to spend lavishly. As an article from the Montreal Gazette explains: Waste is becoming a Doré administration pastime... the administration recalled its scheme for urination posts for dogs. But it has plunged ahead with other dubious spending trips abroad ... a $300,000 window for the mayor’s office, a $500,000 grand stairway at the rear of the city hall, and marble washrooms in the city hall costing $1,275,000 that are better suited to the Ritz.28 These frivolous investments appear a trend in Montreal’s contemporary architecture, becoming artifacts that mark the city’s disreputable reputation with further shame and embarrassment. In this way, the Mount Royal Cross can be seen as an ironic symbol, a monument that has withstood the course of time; evolving with the city’s scandals and trends while still attempting to parade the virtue and morality of the Catholic Cross.

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END NOTES 1 “Mt. Royal’s Cross Shines,” The Ensign, November 19, 1949. II. 2 Ibid. 3 “Mt. Royal’s Cross Shines,” II. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid. 6 Ibid. 7 James Mennie, “A Cross too Bare: City’s Symbol unprotected from vandals, litterbugs,” The Gazette, January 8, 1992. 8 “Mt. Royal’s Cross Shines,” II.; Dominion Bridge Company, Of Tasks Accomplished: The Story of The Accomplishments of Dominion Bridge Company Limited and Its Wholly Owned Subsidiaries in World War II (Montreal: The Co., 1945), 45. 9 Gascon & Parant Architectes: CCA Vertical File. Date unknown. Montreal. 10 “Mt. Royal’s Cross Shines,” II. 11 Tamara Myres, “Embodying Delinquency: Boys' Bodies, Sexuality, and Juvenile Justice History in Early-TwentiethCentury Quebec,” Journal of the History of Sexuality (2005): 383. 12 Ibid., 385. 13 “About Olmsted,” Les Amis de la Montagne, accessed April 29, 2012 http://www.lemontroyal.qc.ca/en/learn-aboutmount-royal/short-history-of-mount-royal.sn. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid. 16 "Saint-Jean Baptiste Woods," last modified January 25, 2012. http://www.lemontroyal.qc.ca/carte/en/html/Saint169

Jean-Baptiste-woods-49.html. 17 “Get to Know Your Drapeau,” Spacing Montreal. Last modified October 21st , 2009. http://spacingmontreal. ca/2009/10/21/get-to-know-your-jean-drapeau/. 18 "Short History of Mount Royal," Les Amis de la Montagne, last modified April 29th, 2012. Accessed April 29, 2012. 19 Allan Fotheringham, “The woes of the Olympics began in Montreal,” Maclean's, Vol. 112, Issue 6, accessed April 28, 2012. 20 David Watkin, Morality and Architecture: The Development of a Theme in Architectural History and Theory from the Gothic Revival to the Modern Movement (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), 33. 21 Ibid. 22 Mark Wigley, “Toward a History of Quantity,” In Clark Conference: Architecture Between Spectacle and Use (Williamstown: Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute: 2005), 157. 23 Jack Todd, “Purple Passion: Let’s turn the mountain into the peak of bad taste,” The Gazette, June 19, 1991. 24 “A tacky, morbid investment,” Editorials, The Gazette, September, 20, 1991. 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid. 27 Wigley, “Toward a History of Quantity,” 156. 28 “A tacky, morbid investment.”

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WORK CITED --. “About Olmsted.” Les Amis de la Montagne. Accessed April 29, 2012. http://www.lemontroyal.qc.ca/en/learn-about-mount-royal/ short-history-of-mount-royal.sn --. “A tacky, morbid investment.” Editorials. The Gazette, September, 20, 1991. Berryman, Tom, Daniel Chartier, Maurice Landry, and Dinu Bumbaru. Les Amis de la Montagne, "Short History of Mount Royal." Last modified April 29th, 2012. Accessed April 29, 2012. http://www.lemontroyal.qc.ca/en/learn-about-mount-royal/shorthistory-of-mount- royal.sn. Dominion Bridge Company, Of Tasks Accomplished: The Story of The Accomplishments of Dominion Bridge Company Limited and Its Wholly Owned Subsidiaries in World War II. Montreal: The Co., 1945. Fotheringham, Allan. “The woes of the Olympics began in Montreal.” Maclean's, Vol. 112, Issue 6, accessed April 28, 2012. Gascon & Parant Architectes: CCA Vertical File. Date unknown. Montreal. Hefffez, Alanah. “Get to Know Your Drapeau.” Spacing Montreal, October 21, 2009. http://spacingmontreal.ca/2009/10/21/get-toknow-your-jean-drapeau/ Mennie, James. “A Cross too Bare: City’s Symbol unprotected from vandals, litterbugs.” The Gazette, January, 8, 1992. --. “Mt. Royal’s Cross Shines.” The Ensign, November 19, 1949. Myres, Tamara. “Embodying Delinquency: Boys' Bodies, Sexuality, and Juvenile Justice History in Early-Twentieth-Century Quebec.” Journal of the History of Sexuality: 2005. --. "Saint-Jean Baptiste woods." last modified January 25, 2012. http://www. 171

lemontroyal.qc.ca/carte/en/html/Saint-Jean-Baptiste-woods-49. html. --. "Short History of Mount Royal." Les Amis de la Montagne, last modified January 25, 2012. Accessed April 29, 2012. http://www. lemontroyal.qc.ca/en/learn-about-mount-royal/short- history-ofmount-royal.sn. Todd, Jack. “Purple Passion: Let’s turn the mountain into the peak of bad taste.” The Gazette. June, 19, 1991. Watkin, David. Morality And Architecture: The Development of a Theme in Architectural History and Theory from the Gothic Revival to the Modern Movement. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977. Wigley, Mark. “Toward a History of Quantity.” In Clark Conference: Architecture Between Spectacle and Use. Williamstown: Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, 2005.

LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1. Nina Vroemen, Two Sides of the Mountain, 2013, Digital photography & internet

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BIOGRAPHIES

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EXECUTIVE Katrina Caruso studies Art History and Studio Art at Concordia University. She currently oversees CUJAH as the Editor-in-Chief. Her writing has been published in Combine 2012, and in Yiara Magazine’s inaugural edition. She has presented her research at Art and the Body, SASA’s Undergraduate Art History Conference (2013). In 2012, she curated an exhibit, In Advance of a Broken Man, and co-coordinated an Art Souterrain event. She is profoundly interested in studying collections, photography, the viewer/body in art, and spatial theories, typically through a feminist lens. As an artist, she explores portraiture and identity through painting, collage, and fibers installation. Erika Couto will graduate in April 2013 with a BFA in Art History & Film Studies. An avid lover of electroacoustics, textiles, and sculpture, her current research projects explore early Cape Dorset Inuit prints and the documentation of sound in Visual Arts. Highly invested in providing opportunities to undergraduate students to highlight their research, Erika is an Associate Editor with CUJAH and an organizer of the Concordia University Undergraduate Art History Conference. She was recently accepted to the MA in Contemporary Art at Sotheby’s Institute of Art and will begin her studies in New York in September 2013. Asieh Harati is in her second year at Concordia University studying Art History and is a member of Golden Key International Honour Society. She is trilingual in English, French, and Persian, and is interested in the contemporary art in the Middle East, specifically in Iran. Her fascination with photography alongside her studies in visual culture and Orientalism has made her enthusiastic about identity issues in the works of Iranian women photographers. She is mostly concerned with postcolonial theory, institutional 176

critique, and their intersection with the practices of women artists in the Middle East. Asieh is an Associate Editor for CUJAH. Ashlee Griffiths is currently in her second year at Concordia University studying Art History with a minor in Spanish. She is active in extracurricular activities at Concordia University, including the Art Matters Festival and CUJAH. Her main interests are royal propaganda art and vintage advertising posters. She is currently an Associate Editor for CUJAH. Katerina Korola is in her third year at Concordia University, studying Art History and Film Studies. Her academic interests include architecture, historiography, and the material manifestations of memory. In her free time she enjoys a (perhaps not so) healthy amount of literature and creative writing. She is currently Assistant Editor of CUJAH and Research Assistant to Professor Mark Sussman. Her academic writing is to be featured in the upcoming edition of Offscreen Magazine. Ashley Ornawka is currently studying Art History and Film Studies with a minor in Classical Civilization (BFA) and she is in the Co-Operative Education Program at Concordia University. She is passionate about cinema, photography, numeric arts and journalism. With a DEC in communications and the accomplishment of Editorin-chief of Cégep Marie-Victorin’s student newspaper Le Médium Saignant (2012-2013) under her belt, she loves being on the scene and reviewing cultural events. She is currently an Associate Editor for CUJAH and Feature Writer. Amira Shabason is completing her fourth and final year in Art History at Concordia University. She is interested in the 177

total work of art, public space, and the built environment, and her own creative practice has been strongly influenced by past work experience in the fields of both jewelry and landscape design. In 2011 she worked as the Programs Assistant at the Ontario Crafts Council, and she has been involved with the Concordia community as an employee of the Fine Arts Reading Room for the past two years. She also curated an exhibition at Coatcheck Gallery for the 2013 Art Matters Festival. Angela Simone is completing her BFA in Studio Arts and Arts History. In realizing the significance of the gender construct of ‘woman’, Angela focuses her art historical research on contemporary ‘women’ artists working in diverse mediums such as painting, assemblage, collage and street art. Angela investigates what it means to be a ‘women’ artist especially during volatile socio-political moments. She incorporates Feminist theories of race, class, gender and visual culture while scrutinizing her own interpretative gaze as a privileged female art historian. WRITERS Catherine Bergeron is currently studying and practicing photography as a Photography major (BFA) at Concordia University. Throughout her academic journey, she has completed a Bachelor’s degree in Cinema and Literature at University of Montreal, with a specialization in Script and Creative Writing. She is interested in discussing the necessary presence of an author’s subjectivity, and the impact of this presence in the practice and the reception of a given medium or a media. Marie-Hélène Busque is currently in her third year at Concordia University studying Art History (BFA). She is interested in curatorial practices and fashion studies, 178

and intersections with photography, performance art and identity within the art museum. With two internships under her belt – at Galerie Pangée and Yves Laroche Galerie d’Art – she is currently interning at the McCord Museum where she is working on the upcoming exhibition First Nations – Wearing Our Identity. She has also been published in the Combine 2011 exhibition catalogue. She is one of CUJAH’s Feature Writers. Pamela Churchill is a fourth year Honours History student, with a particular interest in the use of art and visual culture as an avenue through which to understand the past. Pamela hopes to complete graduate studies in the area of contemporary Chinese art, due to its unique social and political importance, both in the Chinese context and on the world stage. Clinton Glenn is an emerging curator/art historian based in Montreal, Quebec. Their curatorial practice focuses on issues of inclusion/exclusion and marginality within the institutional frame of the gallery. They recently completed a performative curatorial intervention project, This is an Act of Failure, at the VAV Gallery of Concordia University. Their research interests include camp aesthetics, queer and anarchist art theory, and gender (re)presentation in performance art, photography, and short form video. They are also involved in the 2013 edition of the Art Matters Festival in the position of Exhibitions and Special Events Coordinator, and co-curate Gallery X, located in the VA building at Concordia University. Erin Hill flits between Contemporary Dance and Theatre. In her third year of study at Concordia, Erin seeks a movement-based approach to performance. As for the movement of words, her written pathway includes works of poetic prose, zines, reviews and performance scripts. 179

Erin's right hand and two feet are influenced by the objects of nostalgia, light and the inconsistency of humans. Irene Kyritsis is a recent graduate in the Art History major (BFA). She has decided to travel during 2013, living in Beijing, China, for 6 months, and looks forward to exploring Asia while she is there. Irene loves to travel, and enjoys learning about different cultures, and their art. She plans to apply for grad school upon her return to Canada, and believes that her travels will help her to decide on what she would like to specialize. ZoĂŤ Ritts is an artist and student living in Montreal. Her academic interests tend to consider ideas of architecture, history, and critical theory, while her art practice reflect similar interests in space, memory. Anne-Marie TrĂŠpanier is a first year student in Intermedia/ Cyberarts (BFA) at Concordia University. Anne-Marieâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s artistic practice is centralized on performance, installation and documentation. Through her art practice, she has become interested in the intersections between theory and practice. She investigates limits, and transitional spaces, and this has created an inter-disciplinarity in her art-making approach. Her work has been presented at the gallery, Espace Project, through the Art Matters festival in March 2013. Nina Vroemen has dabbled in all sorts of writing projects, and is both creative and academic. She is currently studying Art History, having graduated from CEGEP in Liberal Arts. She is also a writer and editor for the online magazine Tuja Wellness, and her poetry and prose has been independently published.

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DESIGN Kyle Goforth is a design student at Concordia University. He is currently working for CUJAH, designing Volume IXâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s print version, logo, and posters. He also works for Interfold Magazine as Graphic Designer.

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CUJAH EXECUTIVE Editor-in-Chief: Assistant Editor: Associate Editors: Managing Editor:

Katrina Caruso Katerina Korola Erika Couto, Ashlee Griffiths, Asieh Harati, Ashley Ornawka, Angela Simone Amira Shabason

CUJAH DESIGN Designer:

Kyle Goforth

CUJAH TEAM Copy Editors:

Margaux Ancel, Emma BaserRose, Claude W. Bock, Anna Campbell, Veronica Della Foresta, Stephanie Gagne, Jackie Lajeunesse, Jera MacPherson, Kris Millar, Sarah Catherine de Montigny Racher, Aditi Ohri, Nina Patterson, Jennifer Rassi, Elena Sorak, Helen Watts, Zara Wexler

Feature Writers:

Kristen Ahmad-Gawel, MarieHélène Busque, Nathan Hansen, Samantha Haughn, Katrina Jurjans, Laura O’Brien, Raíssa Paes

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Concordia University The Concordia Undergraduate Journal of Art History Montreal, QC, Canada ÂŠ CUJAH 2013 ÂŠ The artists and the authors All images printed in this journal have received rights to use such images, with exception of the Abu Ghraib images (from Catherine Bergeron's essay), which are public domain CUJAH wishes to thank the following places and persons for the permission to use their images in this printed edition of the journal: Amber Topaz, Art Gallery of New South Wales, Art Resource, BGL, the Cardiff Miller Studio, the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum (New York), Musseo Thyssen, and the Ryerson & Burnham Archives. Printed in Canada Les imprimeries Rubiks, Rubiks.ca

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