Walter Benjamin – Timelessness?

Reading Benjamin is a struggle for me. No kidding. I have to constantly reminding myself that the essay, i.e. the Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, was written before World War II, 1936? It is very hard for me to situate myself in a time frame and social condition that is totally alien to my knowledge or personal experience. Perhaps, it’s not a problem to others but, somehow, I found myself going back and forth, and constantly lost between a time span of seventy years. The words Fascist, trench, gas masks, for example, had become a text book term to me, but the whole idea of films is so real and contemporary, even the movies that Benjamin mentioned (The Gold Rush) has, at some point, become a part of my life experience. However, reading Benjamin is also a pleasant journey. Confusing yet refreshing. The word, aura, for instance (well, regardless of the credibility of such saying and the possibility that I took the word out of its context), reminded me some much of the X-factor that some art teachers I met back in Singapore refer to as the un-assessable element/component within a piece of art work.

The relation between the cult value and exhibition value of an artwork, although was perceived by Benjamin as something exist on two different/contradictive planes, somehow I find no matter how distinct these two values Benjamin attempt to see them as, are actually co-exist as a totality within the game of art today. Visiting museums and galleries has always given me this feeling of a ritual journey. The fact that the viewers are not allow to have any physical contact with the paintings on the walls, for example, really reminded me of what Benjamin said about the (major) quality of a cult image: “distant, however close it may be.” Museum is like another temple of cult, a sacred location for icon worshipping.



“Reproduction; is photography a form of art?” has become such a dated and obsolete question. According to one of my art theory professors back at Pratt, when Jasper John created his Target with Four Faces in 1955, he was bombarded with criticism: two-dimensional and three dimensional art forms do not go together! During her interview with John, she confronted him with the criticism. To legitimize his work, John said the connection between the two is the relationship of sight and site, and hence, she said, the whole world shut their mouths. John indeed opened up a gate way to clear the path up for many future art forms to take shape. Similarly, we do not question the legitimacy of photography as an art form anymore today. But for Benjamin, I guess, he lived in an era where film and photography are still in their infancy, the question became the key to an un-explored territory for him. I find reading Benjamin has awaken the awareness of the habit of not questioning the taken for granted mentality within myself. We were all living in this era so-called the Postmodern where everything in studio art practice has been done and nothing is new anymore, so we think or so I think. However, to think about it, have we really fallen into this immense trap where regurgitations and repackaging is the only solutions for contemporary art making? The answer is definitely a negative one, I hope, but, where is the other way out? Perhaps, we are playing another form of aesthetic game, all together, that will legitimize us an adventure into an unchartered territory. Computer? Internet? No matter what that is going to be, I believe it will be an exciting yet overwhelming one, at least for me, a dinosaur from the previous century.

What do I get from reading Benjamin? A stubborn bearded man, holding tight to his brief case, attempting to cross the borders of time.

Frieze of Life at Sean Kelly, Oct 30 to Dec 3, 2009

I went into the gallery without knowing what to expect. The only thing I know about the artist was that Joy said I will like his works. Who is the artist? Wolfgang laib. His name did not even ring a bell to me.

I cannot recall exactly my feeling the minute I saw the first piece. Perhaps, I sense a connection between my studio practice and that of Laib’s the moment his works came into my awareness. It was metal cones of twelve different sizes placed around the cemented floor in the middle of the room. Around them, tiny hills of rice made up the third element, a transitional agent between two hard-edged, man-made components (the metal cones and the cemented floor). Somehow, I was immediately attracted by the physicality (use of materials and the marrying of natural and manmade objects) of the piece rather than the symbolism and/or narration, if there is any, beyond its materiality. Although I would like to read more into the piece, the much distractive motion going on in the room at that moment left me no choice but to go on to other art works.

The second piece of installation totally blew my mind. In a separate room, right above my head, a wooden shelf runs across three of the walls; on the planks were rows of terra-cotta pots (400 of them, to be exact) filled with ashes resting peacefully and orderly, as if time stay still, eternally. (Actually, I did not really know what was in the pots till I read the press release. The ashes were collected from religious temples near Laib’s studio in India.) I would say the installation was not something that gives people a shocking sensation. It was, in fact, very subtle. Different from the first piece where the viewers play a role of superior beings, I have to literally lift my head to see what was on the shelves. The irony is mundane and banal materials like wood, clay and ash were elevated as something sacred, untouchable. The simple wooden shelves were transformed into a shrine, the terra-cotta pots into urns where ashes of the “deceased” reside. The fact that I was there in the room, alone, somehow adds up to the somber feeling I had toward the whole setting. The installation seems to occupy only a little segment of the room but the fullness of its spirituality submerged the whole space with solemnity. A sense of peacefulness rose from the bottom of my heart and I have the feeling that I want to remain in there forever.

The third piece did not really strike me as much as the second one. A divider separated me from the installation and I only saw a square shape of yellow stuff spread flatly like a carpet on the cemented floor. I guess the barricade not only stopped me from going near the piece but also killed my interest to find out more about it. However, realizing later that it was done by “sift(ing) hazelnut pollen, which (Laib) has been painstakingly collected by hand in the field near his studio in Germany, onto the floor of the main gallery”[1] opens up a total different perspective in reading the piece for me.

Not much was mentioned in the press release about the first piece I saw in Sean Kelly. However, Laib’s use of pollen (symbolizing the origin of life) and ash (symbolizing both the end of life and rebirth) had a much better coverage in the one page article. I walked out of the gallery with the urge to see more and know more of Laib’s. To me, there are too much unknown about the artist and his artworks. However, at the same time, there is a very strong sense of familiarity about what I just saw in Sean Kelly. It is a sense of linkage, to be exact, between my own studio practice and those of Laib’s.

I googled Laib on internet a couple of days later but was very disappointed by the digital reproduction of his other works. Not to mention the constant association I made between his works and those of Joseph Bueys’. Perhaps, if I was there to see the actual installations, in situ, I would have a much better encounter with the spiritual realm that he committed himself to. However, reading about Laib’s studio practice and his philosophy unveiled, to a certain degree, the mystery I have about him. Although much of the articles that I read were not much a different from the other, nevertheless, I do want to extract a paragraph from an article by Margit Rowell:

It is obvious that Laib’s choice of materials and his identification with their seasons, life spans, and essential properties are the manifestation of a philosophy and a way of life in which individual needs, desires, or practical concerns are of little importance. It is as clear that the painstaking attention and concentration which are necessary to control his repeated gestures in order not to violate the materials but to realize their potential purity and perfection are dictated by an extreme spiritual discipline. Thus the works themselves are the manifestation of a relation to and a vision of the world which may be defined as fundamental, holistic, timeless, rather than personal or individualistic, or related to the contingencies of a given historical time or place.[2]

Despite what Rowell said or how Laib intended to have his artworks viewed, I would say knowing where he came from, his commitment to a hermit life style, and his philosophy of being redefined my understanding of his language as well as his studio practice. I would not make an absolute connection between him and Beuys, I would not walk away from his pollen field installation with a total blank in my mind, and I would not view his art works as mere lifeless objects but records of transcendental moments in his life as an artist thinker, a sense of honesty, and a representation of the essence of being.

An interview with Wolfgang Laib on Sculpture Magazine. (http://www.sculpture.org/documents/scmag01/may01/laib/laib.shtml)

Wolfgang Laib at Speronw Westwater, Iowa. (http://www.speronewestwater.com/cgi-bin/iowa/artists/record.html?record=10)

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[1] Press release from Sean Kelly.

[2] Margit Rowell (1989). Wolfgang Laib: Transcendent offerings Wolfgang Laib: Substance as essence. Fundacio Joan Miro, Barcelona Spain, 1989, p. 52-53

On Beauty

天凈沙 · 秋思 (Thought in Autumn)

枯藤, 老樹, 昏鴉,

(Withered vine, old tree, dawn crows,)
小橋, 流水, 人家,

(Small bridge, flowing water, farm house,)
古道, 西風, 瘦馬,

(Ancient passage, west wind, skinny horse,)
夕阳西下, 斷腸人, 在天涯。

(Sunset, the heartbroken one, is faraway)

I learned about the lyric/poem above by Ma Zhi Yuan (马致远) back in high school in Malaysia. Ma Zhi Yuan (c.a. 1255 – 1321), was a poet and a magistrate of the Yuan court. Disappointed with the corruption among the official circle, he eventually left the officialdom and chose to lead a life of exile in the country side. The poem was written during the exile. In the poem he seemed to describe a sunset in the country side. But, what he painted in the poem was more than just a scene of desolation. It illustrated his disheartened state of mind, his disappointment toward the Yuan court and its corrupted official circle.

Of the many Chinese poems/ lyrics that I had learnt in school, Ma’s Thought in Autumn, somehow, struck me the most. Perhaps it is because with only a dozen terms he represented a melancholic picture signified the very context of his time. However, beneath the objective superficiality, it transmitted a sense of sorrow that creeps into our sensibility. Such feeling strikes the readers as a flow of spring water. It is comforting, non-pressuring, and indulging. It encapsulated us with sadness provoked by simple descriptions of a scene at dusk and we grieve for his tragic life, voluntarily. That is the beauty of this lyric.

A similar kind of sorrow was re-portrayed in the movie To Live (活着) by Zhang Yimou (张艺谋). Different from Ma, the ‘hero’ of the movie, Fugui (富贵), is an ordinary person who was trapped within the flow of the drastic social revolutions in China during the first half of the last century. Through the lens of Zhang Yimou, we can see him as a victim who is constantly being situated at the receiving end. He is not out standing. He is someone who easily disappeared in crowd. He goes with the flow yet at the same time he retained a sense of innocence of a simple folk who tries his best to survive the turmoil of history. His life endeavor is best illustrated in his conversation with Youqing(友慶), his ten year old son, during the Great Leap Forward:

“If Youqing does as papa says our lives will get better and better. Our family is like a little chicken. When it grows up, it becomes a goose. And that’ll turn into a sheep. The sheep will turn into an ox.”

Youqing, “And after the ox?”

“After the ox is Communism. And there’ll be dumplings and meat everyday.”

To Fugui, Communism is about a social condition where everyone has enough to feed the family, as simple as that. At the same time, we can sense his optimism about life despite all the difficulties and tragic encounters he experienced due to the change of regime and social and cultural reforms driven by political enthusiasm. Perhaps, we, the audiences, pity him for not having a comfortable life, deprived from materialistic luxury, and being victimized by ideological struggles. Nonetheless, he unfolded to us the bright side of humanity. To me, Zhang Yimou portrayed him as a signifier of the mass of ordinary Chinese people. Life was tough and they have no choice but persevere to live on, with dignity.

So, what is beauty?

It is more than beautiful things. It transcends the superficiality and physicality of beings. It takes many forms and it is insubstantial. It is like spring water that cools us down in the hot summer and warms us in the chill of winter. It is comforting, non-pressuring, and indulging. It shines when we dignified ourselves against all odds. Most importantly, it is omnipresent if we choose to see its presence.

Summer 2009 - Bursting Bubbles and Sun Wukong

It seems like everyone is cutting down on everything these days. What a world. I have been thinking about the whole notion of capitalism and its negative effects on the once innocent human society. I guess, like the Great Proletariat Cultural Revolution in China, it has created an irreversible imprint that we all have to deal with. Worst than the GPCR, it will reoccur periodically and will never go away, If I am not mistaken, this is the second major hit within the past 10 years. I have this impression that the construct of human civilizations has reached a point where its survival relied tremendously on the sustaining of the ‘bubble economy’ (I am not sure if this is a right terminology). The breaking point is always the crash of stock market and the effect immediately dispersed through out the rest of the world. I heard from my former colleague that Singapore government is using national reserves to deal with the economical crisis this time. The act was questioned by some of the citizens. What if the crisis strikes again? I guess we all have to prepare for the coming of such days. All the retirement plans that people have been working toward might eventually burned down to ashes.

I think time was much better when people lead a simple and self-sustainable life. They might not have the luxuries that modern world can provide but they needless to worry about "economical malfunction" as we have today. However, again, they perhaps have other things to worry about. I guess Heaven is very fair on that account.

I have been translating, on and off, one of Pan Gongkai’s essays this summer, it’s 20 pages in length (Chinese character, but I think it will double the size when translated to English), published in 2007. I believe due to his social status in China, his perspective represented one of the possible official views on where Art in China should be heading in contemporary (Modern) world.



I am re-reading, in a crawling pace, The Morning Deluge by Han Suyin that John Baldacchino., my advisor, lend me (need to learn how to read faster though); well, I am taking notes and putting down historical/recorded events on a chronological chart. It was fun, and I can see the picture/context better. The chart is forever expanding with the adding in of other stuff that I am reading or watching. The more I read about Mao, the more I feel he is like the Monkey King (Sun Wukong, 孙悟空) in The Journey to the West (西游记). It finally makes sense to me why the youngsters of the GPCR act in such a radical manner. Mao was like them, or should I say they emulated Mao so much that they lost their own selves totally. Perhaps, for Mao, the society that he grew up with was packed with restrictions that gave him a reason to fight against and at the same time prevented him from going way over board, whilst the youngsters of the Cultural Revolution were cleared of all obstacles; they actually have the freedom to do anything in the name of revolution at all cause.

Maybe I am getting older, somehow, I feel like perhaps a Red China might not be a desirable outcome in the history of China at all, and again, maybe it’s an unavoidable route for the Chinese to value and appreciate their tradition and culture more in the future.

‘American Freedom' and beyond

The whole notion of 'American Freedom' is indeed a big lie. Different from majority of those who live in places where Americans refer to as domain of no freedom of choice, Americans themselves are actually willing give in to systems (in health insurance, credit history, consumerism ... the list goes on) created by their own superstitious in freedom. In fact, all benchmarks for a 'developed society' are actually shackles that suffocated the realization of true freedom (of choice). Unfortunately, it is unlikely that we can escape from them now. The economical crisis is one of the many complications of Man’s endless quest for ‘new frontiers’. The invention of stock market brought more deterioration than advancement to human society. The fall of communism in the 90s is not a triumphant of capitalism but the failure of humanity. Although I believe we ought to lead a life as manifested by Laozi, his ideal society might not be able to realize within the globalized society of today. Thus, we have no other alternative but to continue on along the existing track. We are seriously trapped within its constructs. I used to think one can escape the control of hegemony, but now, I am not sure. Perhaps even a hermit who chose to exile from the society would one day hang himself in front of the omnipresent hegemony.

Nonetheless, as passive as Laozi’s philosophy might appeared to be, I somehow believe the notion of ‘wu wei’ is the ultimate salvation for humanity.