Matias Faldbakken – eller hvorfor ironi ikke er en mangel på sensitivitet

 

Billedkunst har den fordel fremfor musik, at den oftest er stille, og er istand til at udtrykke ting der ikke ligger indenfor sproget. Det talte eller skrevne sprog vel at bemærke. Idag hvor scenen er vel assorteret med tekst og lydkunst, kan man spørge sig selv, hvorfor i alverden kunsten er startet som billedkunst, når nu der har været så mange andre tilgængelige medier.

Det er derfor en stor befrielse jvf. Matias Faldbakkens arbejder, at kunne ånde lettet op og få bekræftet, at det er der al mulig grund til. Nemlig at billedkunst som den eneste disciplin, imodsætning til litteratur og musik, er i stand til at sige ting uden at sige dem, eller ved at sige noget andet eller tredie. Dermed kunne man påstå, at der er tale om et meget mere veludviklet arsenal af symboler, tegn og signaler som i billekunsten kan køres massivt i stilling, hver gang et udstillingsrum skal fyldes op med udsagn, med kunst.  Men dette er kun en brøkdel af hvad billedkunsten kan.

Fortsættes

 

Matias Faldbakken har på et tidspunkt udtalt sig om billedkunstens nære forhold til det akavede, altså noget ved siden af, der ikke passer ind eller er overflødigt. I modsætning til musik til maden og litteratur inden sengetid, så fordrer den egentlige billedkunst en vis opmærksomhed, så længe der vel at bemærke er tale om kunst i den kritiske forståelse af ordet. Billedet og billedkunsten er altså overflødig og inkarneret akavethed i en grad hvor det bliver og er en kvalitet i sig selv. Muligheden for et udsagn der altså ikke stemmer overens med nogen gængs udtale, en upassende distræt mumlen i krogene, et anspændt og ulideligt kvæk om noget helt andet end det der var emnet. Her kender vi altså billedkunsten når den er bedst og her finder vi Matias Faldbakken, hvis brug af det billedkunstneriske sprog netop ikke kan kaldes ironisk, fordi det ville være at sige at han forholdt sig til et andet udsagn end sit eget. Dermed er vi ude i noget selvironi, der om noget kræver en særlig undvigelse i forhold til eget udsagn, altså det autentiske. Problemet, eller sublimiteten om man vil, opstår altså i det øjeblik hvor ironien ER autentisk, det vil sige, en negation er autentisk og undviges med et udsagn der er positiv, altså noget på bekostning af ikke noget. Her er det på stedet fristende at sammenligne Faldbakken med Santiago Sierra, hvis ikoniske NO, er om noget en negation – og hvis man kender Sierras kontekst – en negation af magten, kapitalen, staten.  Men Faldbakken synes på sin vis ikke at ligge inde med den slags romantisk/sentimentale tilbøjeligheder – Faldbakkens NO eller NEJ eller negation starter allerede ved udsagnets eksistensberettigelse, og er på nippet til at tage hele det sproglige felt med sig ned i affaldsskakten – Jeg gider s’gu nærmest ikke sige det her – hvis ikke du forstår det før jeg siger det, vil du næppe forstå det bagefter…..

Hvor Santiago Sierra gør os alle den tjeneste og yde en modstand imod magtens positive og produktive udsagnsimperativ, vælger Matias Faldbakken at udtale sig på vegne af overhovedet ingen, andre end knap sig selv og positionen han indtager, synes at være mere Mad Max end Mad Max selv. Det er som om, der hos Faldbakken flyder en særlig vred norsk olie af ingenting. En olie, der ligesom råolien er udvundet af en undergrund, der gennem årtusinder har været udsat for enorme geologiske pres og tektoniske skred, og ikke desto mindre nu skrider hen over overfladen som en Paris-Dakar F1 SUV på gruset glatbane. Denne negation, som her flyder, er en negation af  alt, hvad der kunne minde om et overflødigt, læs forløjet eller autentisk udsagn om noget som helst forståeligt eller fornuftsstyret.

Og her taler vi altså om en billedkunst små halvtreds-hundrede år efter urinaler (armut 1917), og sorte monokromer (untitled, 1964) der har været igennem både tysk maleri og britisk videokunst. Det akavede, det fejlplacerede og misforståede kan nærmest ikke blive mere udtalt, som et politisk udsagn, der på mange måder formår at overdøve de fleste postkoloniale diskurser og velmenende kapitalismekritiske tekstfællesskaber. Og hvordan i alverden kan det så lade sig gøre, når nu vi står i et felt, billedkunsten, hvor netop alle synlige udsagn synes enten udtømte, overbebyrdede eller instrumentaliserede.

Fortsættes

 

Identity Matters

We are all identified, which means we are fucked within zenbuddhist terminologies. The question is, whether this counts for all – the right not to be identified. Identity politics as it now works in fine art, especially the conceptual art that grew out of the anthropological wave after Foucaults micropolitics and the power play of Bourdieu’s segmentation.

The acknowledgment of gender, sex, race and ethnicity as inherent elements of anyones identity i.e. subjectivity, may seem strange to any stupid white man, who believed exactly the neuter, neutrality, even objectivity to be privileges of a superior colonial power. Here it becomes obvious, that the subversion of the values of terminologies, somehow causes a maximum of confusion; The right to silence and a neutral position, is a point to be conquered by those who have been silenced and neutralised by those, whose position could allow them to value this silence and neutrality, as if it was something desirable. As with modernism – as if modernity was accessible or desirable for everyone.

The white cube, that has been under deconstruction since the late fifties, relocates as something ideal, ideal in the sense of a space of tranquility – mindfulness as something desirable for the hungry ?

Dying from hungry mindfulness in the trenches of WW1 – So the need to speak on behalf of identity, because an identity is needed before any neutral neuter position can be attained – as full nutrition before nirvana. Otherwise we will die fasting – i.e. faster.

Who is afraid of red, yellow and blue ?

Black Monochrome

What kind of capitalism are we talking about today – in what way do we understand production and product. Even if art does not need capitalism, it still need capital. At least for production costs and bread on the butter.

Question we can rise is, whether we can come up with a different kind of capital production, which is neither dependant on market capitalism or state governmental regulation. Capital produced solely on alternative energy production, such as solar and wind energy, would naturally appear as green venture capital towards the bright side of speed and movement distribution. All this sounds logical on the border to stupid, even if it would be true.

If we manage to tip the scale here, and promote a capital superior in quality to the existing dominants still based on oil, gas, coal and weapon production; we may be able to imagine a fully equipped industry based on gaming, solar and wind energy, biological agriculture. Imagining vast fields of Facebook servers running on solar energy, producing domestic heat – waterfalls producing electricity and satellites running on electromagnetic waves from the sun. The question is purely how to concentrate all forces of capital in this direction – if we want capital production to survive itself we truly must change investment banking. In its core. Even Formular One Grand Prix could each year produce vast amount of electricity simply by accumulators of all the speed running in the world, by constructing all the roads with dynamos and batteries.

Again, recycle spill water for toilet flushing, let the movement of an asteroide produce energy together with the tornados – imagine how much electricity could be accumulated from a typhoon and at the same time calming it down. Maybe saving the planet is not about stopping the development, but about speeding it up remarkably – so that even the movement of the planets themselves can produce the energy we need to read this. And this.

Art does not need capitalism, but capitalism needs art.

Today we are in that lucky situation, that capitalism, neoliberalism, is not able to create its own reason d’être. The flowing contexts of capital are not able to maintain themselves, capital is only produced for the sake of more capital. In the lack of reason, capitalism shows its face as idiosyncratic, completely irrationel as all myth.

No wonder, that the most popular movies and bestselling blockbusters in cinemas are superhero movies, which are all deeply products of neoliberalist developments, from Captain America to Batman.

So, what is left is far from republican paint – what we have, when Darth Vader and Clark Kent are buried, is fine art. Myth, conspiracy theories and fine art. Without these, capitalism would die from lack of fiction to cover its own emptiness.

Did we forget literature and family ? Of course, because they are boring. In a few moments, the world will end in Virtual Reality – the most mythic, fictive and yes, virtual world of all worlds – Wake me up so I can go to sleep, and dream about myself waking up, wearing my headset and donate my brain to entertainment. Thank God, we have heard all these complaints and anxieties before, and we are still here, dreaming that we are awake.

And did we forget about the antidepressive medicine – the drugs ? Of course not. Tranquillisers for deep sleep, and amphetamine for light dreaming about war.

The sad thing is not writing this, but writing this in lack of any alternative content, something better to say. Maybe it is the format – the poverty of meaning. Language must be used on its own premises, not to describe or represent problems outside language. Or ?

Could we imagine a language arranged in a structure, that would solve real problems ? Like in politics, law or medicine. Not poetry. Unless the secret of poetry is, that it doesn’t appear before the problem is solved already in that very moment.

And what happens afterwards, outside of language is a completely new problem.

Well, let’s see how it works.