Biennial TimeDENİZ GÜL
September 2009
This year, the biennial theme chosen by curators WHW (What, How, and for Whom) and the sponsorship of Koc Holding have come under the greatest criticism. What, How, and for Whom – pretty thought, provoking and demanding questions, aren’t they? It’s like they’re providing an integrated marketing communication through an ad campaign.) Accordingly, Koc has chosen the phrase “What is robbing a bank compared to founding a bank?” for its publicity campaign. (Koc owns a bank and, rightly so, pays attention to capital.) And so, WHW answers the question of who this biennial is for in the give-and-take of modern times. We are in the free market under all circumstances and that what is important is the message we send and the effort that we show, is how they deal with the criticism. Avantgard is dead; that’s the truth.
Physical and concrete data have been continuously debated: what is what in the What question, and who the sides are and which has the advantage in the Who question. These two questions in particular are inclined to further the status quo; the difference between them is just methodology. The way in which an action is carried out can change everything. Conseqently, I am interested in the How question.
Vehbi Koc, the honorary president of Koc Holding, sent a letter to the coupist president Kenan Evren on 3 October 1980. After praising Evren’s support of the coup d’etat and the victory of the army, writing “The actions taken by the Turkish army are entirely rightful,” Koc goes on to give the president some advice. He warns, “You may be exhausted, but do not avoid exhausting tasks. If the army is worn out by poor decisions, dictatorship, followed by communism, could take hold in this country.” Ali Bilge and Ömer Madra, in their talk entitled “The Business World and State Relations in Turkey” continue quoting Koc, who says,
“the trials of the anarchists must not be prolonged one moment, laws to punish them must be crafted swiftly, and the police corps’ facilities must be improved. Whatever can be done to this effect must be done as quickly as possible. Otherwise propaganda declaring that ‘the fascist army has come to power, uniting with the capitalists to exploit the Turkish worker’ will be produced. To prevent this slander, laws to sort out employer-employee relations must be crafted as soon as possible. Those hoping for the closing of the Confederation of Revolutionary Trade Unions of Turkey must be relieved of their ambitions.Severence pay must be collected in a special fund. After setting apart the amount that will be paid to workers, the remainder must be made available for public and private investement at low interest rates.”
He believes the coup of 12 September to be reform movement, saying, for example, that “In order for the movement to be successful, bear in mind the continued malevolent efforts of communist parties, leftist organizations, Kurds, Armenians, and a number of politicians; stay alert and obstruct their enterprises.” Leftist organizations, Kurds, and Armenians!
In what context must Koc’s words be evaluated? This in regard should have been the biennial’s biggest question. Despite the biennial’s opening date as 12 September (as the anniversary of the coup d’etat) and the invitation of artists in their 20s and 30s from Iran and the Caucausus who are investigating communism, revolutionism, and collapse, the lack of involvement of artists asking questions on such issues in Turkey is truly unfortunate, disheartening, and erroneous. What a pity that this biennial, a product of us all, presents a such a narrow perspective on Turkey. The biennial, which opens on the anniversary of the coup ans such related issues, leaves out the period which upset the balance in Turkey as if no class struggle ever happened.
As for the other artworks that were involved in the selection, as Stephen Wright has said, a large majority of the artists follow agenda from behind. As usual, Stephen Wright speaks well in his discourse. However, I have recently been to the Caucausus region and have seen the societal and political structure in Yerevan, the strikes in the streets, and I could have thought that people went out for walks in the parks as the video of Karen Andreassian shows. But, not really. Is this an error (as mentioned by the discourse of Wright) in the collective memory of the place as reported by Andreassian, who was born in Yerevan?
Again, we could have thought of the “web of history elementary school exhibition and research” being carried out in the Gulensu and Gulsuyu neighborhoods of Istanbul, within the scope of the biennial, as an unromanticized process absorbing its adjacancies, as its participants have explained. But, no. I do not think that those like me, who have kept up with the transformation in Istanbul, and that particular district over the past three years have been convinced as to why the area was chosen as a work site, what were the benefits of the “socially engaged art project” and their exit strategy. Likewise, academic circles have adopted oral history projects and urban inventory documentation as research methods in for over ten years.
There are two circumstances in which artists, as much as curators, encounter problems and are left helpless: first, “becoming the representation itself”, and second, “skipping out the specificity of art”. The Antrepo, as an exercise in the collection of art, is a performance which does not live up to Brecht’s writings. The first disappointing work that comes to mind is the “café,” the shanty town, Nuclear Bomb Shelter Plan, installations which cannot justify their own state of being. The enormous red grandstand (apparently a copy of a piece belonging to the government of Belarus) whose size dominates the space, meanwhile, acts as its own representation. The installation of Aydan Murtezaoğlu and Bulent Sangar, which featured a girl spraying perfume and a team folding t-shirts, was unable to move out of the cognitive dimension and establish a dialogue with the viewer, ending up stuck in the same quagmire. Could this state of affairs have been knowingly chosen by the curators? Did they want the exhibition to be read like a book, to reflect the spirit of an age?
Fortunately, the Tobacco Depot held some works mindful of representation and artists willing and able to transport the viewer to other places and other questions. Jesse Jones, for example, questions the marginality of political movements and the crisis of valid political action in contemporary post-utopic society, rightly criticizing notions of false freedom with his absorbing istallation. Jinooz Taghizadeh, working with newspapers collected during the revolutionary period in Iran, has created beautiful, simple works touching on many topics. Overall, it seems that the artists are sad, hopeless, and entirely disgusted with the world.
After all, in order for the approach to be transformative, it is necessary to find a narrative that inspires a desire to read. The curators accept it as such.
In taking Brecht as a starting position for developing the Biennial concept, the question of method is crucial. Is it possible to follow Brecht while disregarding his contemporary image of a Che Guevara of the academic Left, or a canonical author of the traditional orthodox Left, nonchalantly paying no attention to 'brechtology' and an apparent cul-de-sac in which countless reinventions of his experiments have ended? Is it possible, instead, to follow Brecht as a kind of (red) thread that leads the way in a search of a form and format for the exhibition, which would be, so to speak, 'beyond looking,' and could transform a viewer into a more productive participant-even accomplice?
This question is theoretical rather than concrete. But the suggestion, stuck in didactics, addresses How this system is implemented. Why doesn’t a cognitive framework so closely interested in the economy, culture, and art production question the economic interests provided for by the exhibition mechanism itself. Must it ask questions absently, following Brecht like a red thread, commenting on yesterday repeatedly in such a didatic manner? Could a team interested in these questions, caught up in its work, distributing its production budget, crafting its exhibition and strategy, ever be able to suggest a different Biennial Economy? An Istanbul Bienial without exhibits? Instead of representation, could an exhibition mechanism mobilize and, much like Brecht, “deconstruct and transform the production apparatus”? The exhibition manifesto says,
Brecht invites us to rethink our position again and again, to see the world as amateur actors, without dulling our critical faculties or our potential for intervention and change by learning the rules all too well. As a writer and a director, Brecht continuously sought to slice open and display, then deconstruct and transform the theatre's 'production apparatus'-it is this approach that should lead us out of the current deadlock of 'contemporary art apparatus.' At this time, the question of 'usability' of Brecht means first and foremost a repeated need to observe the interaction of art and social relations.
This is the part that succeeds in its aims and strikes close to home. Why aren’t artists in this country counseled to carry out their projects like this? Why are we resigned to the damnation of passive viewing? I ask because I am an “artist” who feels she cannot serve herself. When I wake up every morning and ask myself “Do I serve a purpose?” in order to motivate myself to deal with art, I do more than lament, seeing the lack of space for art in this country. How horrible that this comes down to an existential crisis every time. Let’s leave aside our lofty understanding of art and our attempts to make Istanbul a world star. Could the exhibition, the opening, and parties bring forth the moral and material dialogue necessary to create a beneficial effect that would reach the public? This is a situation unique to the Istanbul market. In the rest of the world even the most ordinary exhibits have a meaningful place and are followed not only by artists but also by the public (without fanfare), as much as advertising, fashion, design, architecture, and the other creative industries. Here there are galerists who do not go other gallery openings, collectors who buy art based on advice without going to exhibitions, artists who do not visit the Biennial, a nouveau-riche creative industry which looks down upon contemporary art, a system which has separated political art from apolitical art, etc.
In economics what is demanded is created. In my opinion the artist, as much as the entire ecosystem, has a responsibility to create this demand. If there is no ground we shall create it, if these is no demand we shall insist, if there is no question we shall ask. Frankly, it is exceedingly important and no less difficult to do what your discourse is and to check whether you have done what you said, to forge a language step by step, to be continuous, to be able to vouch for yourself, and to create meaning. Am I able to do these things? That is the effect the Biennial Time generally has on me. Yes, I can do some, but no, I cannot do most. Another obstacle here is this: There is no outsider, no critique, no judgement (preferably professional) to tell you that your words and deeds, or one deed and another, contradict each other. This, in the end, means that you will struggle piteously with yourself.
Getting used to the use of struggling with yourself… First, even if it takes longer, you see that at the end of the road there is nothing besides yourself. Second, from the moment you realize this, you see everything differently, including yourself. Third, you learn that your motivation, both artistic and vital, is not the economy or system which forces your hand, but the chance to create and to share your world view with the others. This can make you strong and free.
The downside of stuggling with yourself, however, is that you are less able to see your desires, or even unable to see them at all! To be able to act naturally, without struggling with inclination, tendency, or identity is as valuable as desire, interest, curiousity, or appetite. The left side of this equation belongs to the place while the right side is the demand’s. The rest is construct.
Note: During the opening party at the Antrepo a young guy was pulled into a room and beaten up by a bodyguard. During another biennial party at a club called XL a woman was assaulted in the open and dragged out the door. These events went unnoticed and were paid no heed in order to prevent a brawl.
Deniz Gul is a visual artist and writer. She lives and works in İstanbul
www.denizgul.com
