Part I
Logics of staging
1 Traces of presence
Adrian Kear
The fundamental problem that now arises is that of the trace, or of the visibility of the visible ⌠Are there traces of the act? How can we isolate the act from its result without resorting to the ineluctably sacred form of the work?
(Alain Badiou1)
This does not mean that there is no theatre ⌠But theatre, here, means the scene of representation: it means the extreme edge of this scene, the dividing line where singular beings are exposed to one another.
(Jean-Luc Nancy2)
Presence and representation
January 2009, and Iâm walking through three feet of snow to get to what I hope is the entrance to Hangar Bicocca on the outskirts of Milan in order to see an exhibition of works by the Chilean artist Alfredo Jaar. It is Difficult, the title on the exhibition poster tells meâwhich is also what the taxi driver had said as he dropped me off some way from the venue. I think to myself âit certainly isâ as I try to find the way into the building, recalling as I move the remainder of the enigmatic quotation from William Carlos Williams: âIt is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.â3 Eventually a doorway presents itself and I stumble into the cavernous space of the gallery with Williamsâs curious inversion of the troubled relationship between art and politics reverberating in my head. Iâm struck by two things on entering: it seems inhospitably empty, the emptiness echoing the spaceâs post-industrial enormity, testament to the scale of the economic apparatus once housed here and now traced, associatively, by the art-producing machine; and itâs coldâcolder, if thatâs possible, than the snow-encrusted city outside. However, Iâm here now, and the cold draws attention to my being there as an ontological experience. It runs through my body as an index of my own presence, a marker of my exposure, and of exposure as a locus of being opened up to the relational experience of others.
As I move round It is Difficult, Iâm aware that my viewing of the exhibition is conditioned as much by my relation to the cold as by my relation to the works themselves; yet in spite of this, or perhaps because of itâbecause it draws attention to my being located geopolitically in a privileged Northern hemispheric contextâIâm conscious that the images with which Iâm being presented are less a set of artworks as objects than the effective traces of a number of inter-related artistic acts with representational outcomes that record the co-presence of the artist in a series of places, relations and situations that would otherwise not be made visible, would not otherwise be made available to be seen. The institutional frame and representational context of exhibition is thereby to be regarded as an essential co-determinant of the âvisibility of the visibleâ set into play by the artistic act, creating a space of encounter between the spectator and the visible trace of anotherâs material presence as an essentially theatrical exposure of relational ontology. Without this gesture towards the spectatorâs co-appearance in the scene, to my relational co-presence with what is seen, the image itself would not be given to be seen. Put simply, the conditions of the appearance of the image provide the very ground for the recognition of the politics of the image, drawing attention to the theatrical politics of spectatorship as a relational exposure ofâand toâpolitical ontology. Watching scenes of others being exposed to excessive heat and extreme exploitation thereby seemed, in the context of the bitterly cold environment of the gallery, to act as a reminder that what was being rendered visible in these images could not be encountered with the dispassionate detachment of the expert observer but rather sought to invoke the relational co-presence and ethical implication of the critically and creatively engaged spectator.
The earliest piece in the retrospective seems to demonstrate the continuity of Jaarâs commitment to examining the relational dynamics of exposure through interrogating the material interdependence of the form, content and context of the imageâs exhibition and staging. Introduction to a Distant World (1985) is a 9 minute 30 second digital video projection, installed in the Hangar in large-screen format and presented in a face-to-face audience relation. It depicts an extraordinary sceneâor, more precisely, it presents an ordinary scene âextraordinarilyâ by bringing it to visibility and allowing it to be seen. Jaarâs video camera captures an open-cast goldmine in the northeastern Amazonian rainforest, populated by some of the 40,000 or more gold prospectors in the Serra Pelada. It starts with an extreme wide-angle shot of the physical landscape of the site itself, showing the precarious network of ladders, rock-hewn steps and rudimentary irrigation system that form the âinfrastructureâ of the excavation. The miners are visible only in their multitude, navigating the treacherous slopes as they carry bags of slurry up and out of the site before descending to continue their Sisyphean labour. The spatial and temporal rhythm of Introduction to a Distant World becomes established by the camera angle narrowing to focus inward on the mine, revealing in mid-shot a seemingly chaotic and self-evidently dangerous mining âmachineâ with human bodies as its essential element. The framing of the image becomes more and more concerned with the materiality of the environment, with the bodies of the miners, arms and legs exposed, as they carry sodden sacks of earth on their shoulders up the slippery pathway in intensely close proximity, with others passing them on the way back down. They walk together, always looking down, conjoined by their work and interdependent on each otherâs material presence, their inescapable being there together. Jaarâs camera zooms in on the movement of the minersâ feet and legs, mud-splattered and exposed to the immanent disaster of a slip, whilst the continuous pace of the editing resonates with the ineluctable rhythm of the machine. Thigh, knee, calf, ankle, footâthe artistic apparatus seems designed to present nothing short of the presence of the people in this place as the very ground of their aesthetic co-appearance; as the material substance which would otherwise not be brought to appearance. The project of the video would therefore seem to be the presentation of ontological co-presence, or at least the presentation of its trace in the work of representation. For in the editing and framing of the image, in the manual labour of constructing the work of art as such as well as in the material trace of its making, we see the coexistence of presence and representation, material relations and mediation. The artistâs work is dependent on the minerâs labour, mediation remains dependent on the stuff of matter, and the point is not lost on the engaged spectator.
In fact, and in order to make clear the political relations at stake in the work of art and their imbrications in the co-compositional processes of making and spectating, Introduction to a Distant World incorporates the implication of the spectator in the scene through an explicit moment of recognition. At the end of the piece, in a marked interruption of the cameraâs focus on the rhythm of feet and the materiality of bodies, a miner looks up and returns the artistâs/spectatorâs gaze. The suddenness of the gesture, its startling instantaneity, is accentuated affectively by the introduction of a soft freeze and then fading of the image. The theatricality of the moment seems to insist on the appearance of the miner as subject, staged as a face-to-face confrontation, when in fact it serves more as an index of the presence of the artist and, by extension, the anticipated context of the spectatorial relation. In other words, the moment of interruption instantiates the appearance of subjectivity as produced by the anthropological machine of the artistic apparatus rather than the appearance of a singular subject as such. If anything, it is the spectator who comes into being at this point as witness to a highly orchestrated disruption of the âvisibility of the visibleâ as an event ofâand inârepresentation. As Badiou writes:
It is of the very essence of the event to be both what irrupts and what solely exists and organizes subjects in the form of traces which are immediately difficult to read. One could then say that performance takes place precisely between the active force of what emerges and its enigmatic dissemination.4
The âperformanceâ taking place here, then, in the artistic space of presenting co-presence and disseminating it through the economic and political relations of the gallery, tends to organize the spectator as subject or, rather, as the aesthetic subject of an ethical and political address. If Introduction to a Distant World makes apparent part of the contemporary world that would otherwise not be seen, it does so with a knowingness by which the making and viewing of the artwork is itself structured and implicated in that world and is built upon fundamental global inequality. What is at stake in looking at these images in this context? What is the nature of the difficult performance of relation unfolded through watching them? These are, of course, Jaarâs questions, to which I would add: what difference does it make if the people presented in the work of representation are aware of themselves performing? What if the labour of making art is conceived as a shared act rather than one built on another kind of work, another kind of labour? What are the ethical, political and aesthetic implications of recognizing the co-presence of performer, maker and spectator as being in the worldâthis worldâtogether?
It is Difficult seems resolutely determined to draw attention to the politics of these questions and to trace the co-dependency of presence and representation through a series of inter-related aesthetic inquiries and investigations. The exhibition includes one of several variations of the Serra Pelada materials which extend the video workâs focus on the dynamics of the imageâs framing and the ontological relations at stake in its theatrical staging. Out of Balance (1989), is a series of six rectangular light-boxes (45 x 244 x 13cm) in which the dimensions of the frame greatly exceeds the singular image of a minerâs face illuminated by it. Each colour transparency is located at the edge of the frame, drawing attention to the excess of the mechanism of double exposure utilized to capture and then reproduce it. As such, this display of light is simultaneously reflective of the ontology of photography, at least in its analogue state, as the product of the capture of light in the form of its negative imprint and the re-animation of its material trace, and of the political aesthetics of an ideology that designates the appearance of the visual âas the realm of what manifests itselfâ.5 At the same time, the radiance of the face contained within its aperture designates the materiality of the political ontology simultaneously in play in the imageâs locus of appearance and affective articulation of itself as a virtual trace of presence. For this is someone; someone whose sometime appearance in front of Jaarâs camera is once again made manifest in the spectatorâs confrontation with the âfacingnessâ of the image illuminated and installed in the exhibition space. Here the details of environment and activity are excluded so that, as Rancière explains, the spectatorial encounter with âthe obtuse presence that interrupts ⌠becomes the luminous power of a face-to-faceâ through which âpresence opens out into presentation of presenceâ and âthe obtuse power of the image ⌠becomes the radiance of a faceâ.6 However, as the title of the work, Out of Balance, suggests, the geopolitical conditions governing the relations of presence and representation are themselves inexorably over-determining of the nature of the co-appearance being made manifest. Jaarâs concern is therefore not simply with facilitating the appearance of the image as such, but with making...