Im Interview mit Hatje Cantz erläutert Maria Moritz ihr vielschichtiges Verhältnis zur Kunst Friedrichs, reflektiert darüber, wie sich unsere veränderte Betrachtung der Natur in seinen Werken widerspiegelt und unter welchen Bedingungen sie in der heutigen Zeit eine neue politische Relevanz in seinem Werk sieht.
Hatje Cantz: Hast du in deinem Leben einen ganz persönlichen Friedrich-Moment erlebt, von dem du uns erzählen magst?
Maria Moritz: Es ist eher ein ambivalentes Gefühl, das mich überkommt, und kein sehr bestimmter Oha-Moment. Seine Werke sind einerseits sehr verführerisch. Gleichzeitig ist da aber auch dieser bittere Beigeschmack, den ich auch unter historischer Linse nicht ganz verdrängen kann. Dies beides ist das Faszinierende an seinen Arbeiten. Auf der einen Seite sind seine Werke so unglaublich effektiv darin, eine “einmalige Erscheinung einer Ferne, so nah sie sein mag", zu evozieren, um mit Walter Benjamins Worten über den Begriff der Aura zu sprechen. Insofern repräsentiert er für mich also das unmittelbare Gefühl. Auf der anderen Seite verbinde ich mit ihm aber etwas Selbstgerechtes, typisch Deutsches und eine solitäre Innerlichkeit, die recht wenig revolutionär erscheint. Die andere Frage lautet, wie man das Erhabene spüren soll, wenn gleichzeitig die Schuldgefühle an uns nagen, weil wir im Begriff sind, die Natur zu zerstören? Es ist ein wenig absurd, wenn es bei aller magischer Naturverbundenheit in der Kontemplation seiner Werke zur Zeit eigentlich nur darum gehen kann, die Welt und ihre „Verdorbenheit" zu vergessen.
HC: Kannst du uns sagen, welche Elemente aus Friedrichs Werk du in deinen eigenen Kunstwerken aufgegriffen hast und welche Rolle diese in deiner künstlerischen Praxis spielen?
MM: Ich denke da an den Modus der Kontemplation; an das Erhabene als ästhetisches Phänomen; und an Illusionsraum. Explizit gehen drei verschiedene meiner Werke auf diese Tropen ein. Das älteste ist ein Diptychon. Plan A der Arbeit spielt mit der Erwartungshaltung an das Bild zu performen, Plan B mit dieser versprochenen und irgendwie verstaubten Idee von Freiheit. Es geht mir darum, wie man derartige Versprechungen oder Vorstellungen in Anführungszeichen setzt und durchspielt, im Zweifelsfall bricht oder übertreibt. Es ist sehr entscheidend, wie man sie inszeniert, um sie nicht bloß zu reproduzieren. Weil Friedrichs Arbeiten so viel wollen, moralisch wie affektiv, laden sie förmlich ein, sein Anliegen untergraben zu wollen. Ich finde in Abgrenzung dazu den Modus des Spiels aber verlockender. Das Prinzip der Inszenierung trifft auch auf die Werkserie mood zu, die auf immersive Eskapismen in der Malerei und die Kommerzialisierung von Emotionen durch die sozialen Medien verweist. Auf den ersten Blick gibt sie vor, zur Kontemplation einzuladen – was ja einen großen Teil Friedrichs Werke ausmacht. Aber wie auch in der Arbeit Afterglow, die Nikki Buzzi zur Eröffnung mit einer Soundinstallation begleitet hat, wollte ich für einen Komplex aus Bild, Abbild und Kontext schaffen, in dem der Blick aus dem suggerierten Raum in den Ausstellungsraum zurückgeworfen wird. Durch ein Auslaufen der Farben ins Dunkel der Wand, und Buzzis Sound- und Bildreflektion, im Fall von Afterglow und im Fall von mood durch die spezifische Art der Hängung. Es geht also immer wieder um ein Austarieren zwischen Nähe und Distanz, worin Friedrich ja ein Meister war.
MM: Ich würde per se gar nicht bestätigen, dass er noch super relevant ist. Ich finde, seine Werke sind einmal ein Sinnbild einer teils zu recht, teils zu unrecht in Verruf geratenen ästhetischen Kategorie. Daneben kann man an ihnen gut ausmachen, wie sich unsere Weltanschauung und die Art, wie wir die Natur betrachten, verändert hat. Auf der einen Seite sind sie immer noch unglaublich wirkungsvoll und anziehend. Und auf der anderen Seite ist da dieses Deutsche, gewaltvoll Überhebliche in seiner solitären Innerlichkeit und ein Moment, der gerade jetzt sehr off und alles andere als aufklärerisch scheint. Insofern kann ich auch gut nachvollziehen, und finde es schlüssig, warum “Strike Germany” in einem ihrer Beitragsbilder den Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer zeigt. Vielleicht kann man der Idee von Erhabenheit, die ich insbesondere mit ihm verbinde wieder zu mehr politischer Relevanz verhelfen, wenn man Erhabenheit, wie der Politologe und Soziologe Oliver Marchart es beispielsweise tut, als diskursives Mittel verwendet, um über einen revolutionären Moment zu sprechen, der als solcher undarstellbar bleibt und sich der Repräsentation entzieht – sobald wir nämlich in der Lage sind, hinreichend zu beschreiben, was das Neue eigentlich ist, ist es nicht mehr neu, sondern bereits Teil des Bekannten, des 'Alten'.
Das Gespräch mit Maria Moritz für Hatje Cantz führte László Rupp im März 2024.
L I V I N G 17th – 19th of February 2024
Lena Appel and Swan Lee, John Hussain Flindt, Johann Lentes, Maria Moritz
On entering the exhibition"LIVING", the two-part work "Frau Debisch hebt ab“ seems to extend the movement of visitors - from Elbestraße into the exhibition space. This movement sets the tension between the exhibition and the theme of living. On the one hand, a mimetic approach to living; the installation of the works in the space almost feel like the furnishing of a living space and thus part of life. On the other hand, the genuine characteristic of art is not to be part of life, but a "special sphere" excluded from it, which thus reflects the living in life. This theme, which is initially evoked in "Frau Debisch hebt ab" through the spatial dynamics of the picture's division into two parts, can also be found in the handling of the pieces of furniture depicted in Maria Moritz's other paintings. While a (living) room can also be seen in that painting, the diptych "Empfang" initially also shows a clearly identifiable office chair. The accompanying lamp, however, has a dual character in that its line simultaneously creates an abstract pictorial composition. In the exhibition's oscillation between a mimesis of life and a reflection of it, this abstraction creates a moment of transcendence, of transcending living, through its non-representational nature. The film "A Heavy Presence" by Lena Appel and Swan Lee puts viewers in the irritating position of exploring a house from inside and out, without knowing anything about its context. Sitting in front of the television is reminiscent of living itself, a moment of cosy retreat within one's own four walls. However, the enigmatic and indeterminate exploration of the house that becomes apparent while watching the film creates an uncanny appearance of living in contrast to the homely setting in front of the television. In addition to the tentative camera work, which presents the interior design as astonishing phenomena, the soundtrack and the interrupting sequences of abstract dots on a white background emphasise the specific perspective the film casts on the house as well as the films general artificiality. If the film suggests to the viewer at times that they themselves are in the unknown house, especially through the point-of-view camera, they are brought back into the exhibition space through the non-realistic moments. Before descending into the basement of the exhibition space to John Hussain's Flindt's installation "Attic Prelude", two small self-portraits of Appel and Lee hanging on the wall in the filmed house create a further cross-connection between living, art and the exhibition of living. On entering Flindt's installation, you are initially confronted with objects that you would expect to find in a personal archive - in a cellar or an attic. However, the subtle design interventions in the arrangement of the objects soon become apparent. The tension between the archival character of the objects and the design of their arrangement points to the installation's question of how the semantic charge of the objects is experienced by visitors to the exhibition. Some of the objects, as well as the photographs, originate from the artist's personal life. The installation is thus an examination of his own political and cultural identity. Through the indeterminacy of the objects, which contradicts the personal reference, the installation simultaneously opens up the possibility for viewers to examine their own relationship to the collected objects. The interface between living and art is thematised in Flindt's installation through the display of personally charged objects, whereby, as in the works of Moritz, Appel and Lee, it is their artistic design that detaches the objects from their concretion, allowing them to be more than objects in a living situation and which invites visitors to contribute their own thoughts and feelings.
Text: Leander Ruprecht
https://www.saasfeepavillon.de/satellit/soloshows/
For the opening, Nicolas Buzzi accompanied the work with a sound installation. Using an acoustic beamformer, they projected field recordings and electronically generated sounds onto Moritz's horizon as well as onto two mirrors, which thus reflected image and sound into the exhibition space.’
https://deuxdeux.de/Maria-Moritz-Teaser
13. Februar 2023
Im ersten Moment scheinen die Malereien von Maria Moritz, die sich durch das Gebäude der Dürerstraße verteilten, private Einblicke zu gewähren. Verlassen und zugleich belebt wirken die Stillleben, die vor allem eines gemeinsam haben: Sie zeigen Schlafzimmer, genauer gesagt Betten, in denen die Künstlerin selbst geschlafen hat. Die Titel orientieren sich dabei an den Adressen der jeweiligen Wohnungen. Moritz spielt damit nicht nur auf die vermeintliche Untrennbarkeit von Kunstschaffenden und ihren Werken an, sondern greift den gängigen Habitus der sozialen Medien auf, private Räume zu inszenieren wie zu stilisieren.
Text: Vivien Kämpf
https://irgac.org/articles/the-potential-of-anti-capitalist-narratives/
THE POTENTIAL OF ANTI-CAPITALIST NARRATIVES
Politics involve more than public management and a rational assessment of interests. Some may have forgotten, but politics still involves imagination, the capacity to dream collectively, to tell stories; politics still contains a form of mythology.
31. OKTOBER 2022
In the context of the lecture series New Faces of Authoritarianism in the Global South, I started to reflect on the potential of narratives, images, and myths, including their emotional dimensions. I became intrigued by the question of how they can be used as part of a strategy in the struggle against neoliberal authoritarianism in Western Europe. In one of our sessions, Boaventura Monjane argued that in the cases of Mozambique, South Africa, and Zimbabwe it may be possible, though difficult, to deploy left-wing populism to defeat its right-wing counterpart. Moreover, the same means could assist the convergence of different classes into a broad united front in order to achieve anti-capitalist change. This, in turn, made me ponder the question of how to extract the effectiveness of populism without implementing its dangerous downsides. To shed light on this inquiry, I will draw on arguments on the use of myths:
As Roland Barthes has shown, myths are to be understood as communication systems and communicated messages (Barthes, 1957). In this sense, everything can be a carrier of a message: the visual, auditory, spoken, written, and representational—all of these can, as an associative interplay of signifier (the expression and form) and signified (the content and imagination), yield a second-order sign and thus a myth.
Myths, as a form of narrative, are not necessarily counter-concepts to truth in political interplay. They form mental constructs, collective ideas, and dreams that are as much a part of reality and politics as „hard facts,“ public management, and rational advocacy. My main question is how myths and narratives can be used to simultaneously address differing concerns and needs of diverse groups and how they can help overcome fragmentation to accelerate the urgent social and ecological transformation of society.
Both left and right-wing populisms turn out to be effective when their stakeholders successfully play on the political stage with images that attract people on the basis of affect. By dividing political orientation into four layers—affective importance, epidemiocracy, narrative structures, and mythical attractions—Yves Citton has discussed how affects mobilize us: “Hunger, lust, envy, commiseration, hope, hate will certainly push me to act, but I won’t be able to enter any specific action until I can integrate my possible moves within the structure provided by a narrative or story” (Citton 2010, 64).
AFFECTS AND UNIFYING SYMBOLS
As affects form the first level of mobilization, it is critical to acknowledge popular concerns and fears, as opposed to dismissing them as ill-founded from the start. Telling those who are afraid of higher taxes or a rise in criminal activity that they are wrong can make them wait for someone to offer a solution—however damaging it may be. The so-called Querdenker*innen in Germany, a group of people who have been protesting against the measures taken to combat the COVID-19 pandemic, provide an example of the mobilizing power of negative affect wherein fears trigger more fears and destructive narratives. Furthermore, in this case, the demand to not wear a mask becomes a symbol conveying unmet needs and longings in general.
Esotericism, spirituality, anthroposophy, and their self-assessment as heroic opponents of the regime has played a major role in their coalition from the very beginning. However, the composition of their worldview is rather inhomogeneous. The rejection of the mask and the undesirable meanings attached to it has united them and established their identity as a group. Not wearing the mask and adopting an anti-vaccination stance is seen, by most of the movement’s supporters, as resistance to oppression. Along with vaccination, the mask has become a symbol for a perceived sense of subjugation and un-representation. The Querdenker*innen movement thus offered all those who felt betrayed and unrepresented by the state and institutionalized mainstream politics an opportunity for identification.
The fact that so many people find themselves in such stirring narratives and are attracted to symbols is hardly surprising, given that it is what narratives and myths do: they explain the past in order to enable and justify future action. We are drawn to them because they make sense and alleviate contingency fears, ambiguity, and disorientation. They respond to these phenomena and create coherence, a sense of being well taken care of, and identity through exaggeration or reduction of complexity. This is not a bad thing per se, and because it is so effective, it is also very promising. Following Yves Citton, in order to counteract destructive narratives and myths—namely those that are suicidal in nature as they provide short-term relief, but ultimately lead to a worsening of the situation, or are detrimental in the sense that they cause injustice and danger for others—we need constructive myths and narratives.
COMMON DENOMINATOR FOR AN ALTERNATIVE UNION
But what does a constructive myth look like? How can it appeal to different groups and address their different fragilities simultaneously, as well as address the root causes of their problems? How can affects be harnessed without being manipulative, but rather mobilize critical judgment? In employing myth, how can we avoid undermining the concerns of diverse groups and containing their agonistic struggle? How, then, do we create a counter-hegemonic bloc that is cohesive and united, but at the same time diverse in its fragilities and in its forming stance? How do we establish a space for those who would otherwise be tempted to follow a false prophet and identitarian enemy images?
Meanwhile, neoliberal capitalism, as so many scholars have pointed out, has penetrated all areas of our lives and is in the process of destroying them and the conditions for our continued existence. In that regard, it has the potential to represent a systemic enemy image for the entire human population. In economic terms, especially since the global financial crisis of 2008, it has threatened and even destroyed diverse livelihoods through deregulation, privatization, strengthening of the free market, and socio-political austerity measures.
Politically, as Chantal Mouffe argues in her book For a Left Populism (2018), the competitive order of neoliberalism has been accepted by almost all ruling political parties across Western Europe. Under Gerhard Schröder, chancellor of Germany from 1998 to 2005, the Social Democrats also entered into an alliance with global neoliberalism. Within almost the entire parliamentary political spectrum, from centre-left to centre-right, there has been no apparent alternative to neoliberal globalization. This, Mouffe argues, has blurred the boundaries between the political parties, making it impossible for the population to choose among real alternatives, making them feel unrepresented, weakening democracy.
It is also neoliberal capitalism that has turned us individuals into ego entrepreneurs, striving for self-maximization and making our self-worth dependent on performance and efficiency. The subjectivity technologies set forth by neoliberal capitalism demand us to constantly reinvent ourselves. Moreover, as Eva Illouz (2007) discusses, they erode our social relationships, since our interactions too are shaped by capitalist principles, such as when lovers consume goods that are conducive to a romantic atmosphere and intimacy (dinner in a restaurant, for example). Or in friendship, taken to extremes by Instagram where the maximization law of capitalism applies most particularly and the question of how many people you know becomes at least as important as how well you know them. Friendship, in other words, becomes a form of social capital and intimate relationships are determined by political and economic models such as exchange, trade, and capital.
On the basis of an economic, political, social and above all environmental problem, I therefore claim that a common denominator could be the fight against neoliberalism, which could create a sense of belonging to a counter-hegemonic bloc through all the negative affects. Such a bloc should not exist for the sake of harmony, risking a loss of conflictuality, but rather should be united particularly out of urgency, simply because, due to the climate crisis, time is running out. However, because a counter-position to neoliberal capitalism understood in this way encompasses many thematic lines, it is often too abstract as an agenda to advance the transformation of our social and ecological society quickly enough. Therefore, more people, such as the climate activist Greta Thunberg, and more narratives and myths must symbolize this disidentification with the regime of exploitation and destruction and serve as placeholders for anti-capitalist ideas.
ELABORATING ON CONSTRUCTIVE MYTHS
At documenta fifteen in Kassel, one of the most important exhibition series of contemporary art in the world, we can find such a constructive myth and prefiguration for anti-capitalist ideas. This year, the art exhibition was directed by the collective ruangrupa, which was founded in 2000 in Jakarta by a group of artists. The central image for ruangrupa and this year’s documenta fifteen is the communally shared rice barn, which is called lumbung in Indonesian. It is used to store surplus crops for the benefit of the community. It stands as a model for the practice of documenta fifteen and thus for a collective fund of resources. It is an image to hold onto, one that guides solidarity and “satisfies hunger” in a double sense.
The image of the rice barn does everything that the mask does: it becomes a symbol for unfulfilled demands, the difference being that it attacks real problems, such as the imbalance in the distribution of resources and attention. And in doing so, it is additionally emancipatory because it points to an exit strategy. It celebrates hybridity, collaborative cosmopolitanism, collectivity, shared resources, and shared experience, as well as cultural interconnections. These are myths as well, but constructive myths: they ignite a disruptive fire and pose a challenge to the highly capitalist visibility regimes of the art world and constitute, as Homi K. Bhaba (2022) puts it, a redistribution of the symbolic surplus of the art world towards a commonly shared cultural resource.
However, anti-capitalist narratives and myths also run the risk of degenerating into a fetish and thus becoming fashionable and consumable. They can fall prey to an aestheticization in which the concept itself becomes a resource for capitalism and they lose their substantive dimension, such as when certain textile companies dress their models as Fridays-for-Future demonstrators, engage in greenwashing, or cover up the fact that their sector produces more CO2 emissions than international flights and cruises. Despite this danger of co-optation, these counter-narratives and myths, through their affective dimension, contain the potential to overcome the fragmentation of counter-hegemonic forces and show a way out of the vicious cycle of profit maximization and social and ecological exploitation with a common attitude—an attitude that can, in turn, promote the development of concrete solutions.
*This text is part of the Dossier IRGAC LECTURE SERIES – New Faces of Authoritarianism: Interdisciplinary Perspectives from the Global South
Text: Maria Moritz
Im Interview mit Hatje Cantz erläutert Maria Moritz ihr vielschichtiges Verhältnis zur Kunst Friedrichs, reflektiert darüber, wie sich unsere veränderte Betrachtung der Natur in seinen Werken widerspiegelt und unter welchen Bedingungen sie in der heutigen Zeit eine neue politische Relevanz in seinem Werk sieht.
Hatje Cantz: Hast du in deinem Leben einen ganz persönlichen Friedrich-Moment erlebt, von dem du uns erzählen magst?
Maria Moritz: Es ist eher ein ambivalentes Gefühl, das mich überkommt, und kein sehr bestimmter Oha-Moment. Seine Werke sind einerseits sehr verführerisch. Gleichzeitig ist da aber auch dieser bittere Beigeschmack, den ich auch unter historischer Linse nicht ganz verdrängen kann. Dies beides ist das Faszinierende an seinen Arbeiten. Auf der einen Seite sind seine Werke so unglaublich effektiv darin, eine “einmalige Erscheinung einer Ferne, so nah sie sein mag", zu evozieren, um mit Walter Benjamins Worten über den Begriff der Aura zu sprechen. Insofern repräsentiert er für mich also das unmittelbare Gefühl. Auf der anderen Seite verbinde ich mit ihm aber etwas Selbstgerechtes, typisch Deutsches und eine solitäre Innerlichkeit, die recht wenig revolutionär erscheint. Die andere Frage lautet, wie man das Erhabene spüren soll, wenn gleichzeitig die Schuldgefühle an uns nagen, weil wir im Begriff sind, die Natur zu zerstören? Es ist ein wenig absurd, wenn es bei aller magischer Naturverbundenheit in der Kontemplation seiner Werke zur Zeit eigentlich nur darum gehen kann, die Welt und ihre „Verdorbenheit" zu vergessen.
HC: Kannst du uns sagen, welche Elemente aus Friedrichs Werk du in deinen eigenen Kunstwerken aufgegriffen hast und welche Rolle diese in deiner künstlerischen Praxis spielen?
MM: Ich denke da an den Modus der Kontemplation; an das Erhabene als ästhetisches Phänomen; und an Illusionsraum. Explizit gehen drei verschiedene meiner Werke auf diese Tropen ein. Das älteste ist ein Diptychon. Plan A der Arbeit spielt mit der Erwartungshaltung an das Bild zu performen, Plan B mit dieser versprochenen und irgendwie verstaubten Idee von Freiheit. Es geht mir darum, wie man derartige Versprechungen oder Vorstellungen in Anführungszeichen setzt und durchspielt, im Zweifelsfall bricht oder übertreibt. Es ist sehr entscheidend, wie man sie inszeniert, um sie nicht bloß zu reproduzieren. Weil Friedrichs Arbeiten so viel wollen, moralisch wie affektiv, laden sie förmlich ein, sein Anliegen untergraben zu wollen. Ich finde in Abgrenzung dazu den Modus des Spiels aber verlockender. Das Prinzip der Inszenierung trifft auch auf die Werkserie mood zu, die auf immersive Eskapismen in der Malerei und die Kommerzialisierung von Emotionen durch die sozialen Medien verweist. Auf den ersten Blick gibt sie vor, zur Kontemplation einzuladen – was ja einen großen Teil Friedrichs Werke ausmacht. Aber wie auch in der Arbeit Afterglow, die Nikki Buzzi zur Eröffnung mit einer Soundinstallation begleitet hat, wollte ich für einen Komplex aus Bild, Abbild und Kontext schaffen, in dem der Blick aus dem suggerierten Raum in den Ausstellungsraum zurückgeworfen wird. Durch ein Auslaufen der Farben ins Dunkel der Wand, und Buzzis Sound- und Bildreflektion, im Fall von Afterglow und im Fall von mood durch die spezifische Art der Hängung. Es geht also immer wieder um ein Austarieren zwischen Nähe und Distanz, worin Friedrich ja ein Meister war.
MM: Ich würde per se gar nicht bestätigen, dass er noch super relevant ist. Ich finde, seine Werke sind einmal ein Sinnbild einer teils zu recht, teils zu unrecht in Verruf geratenen ästhetischen Kategorie. Daneben kann man an ihnen gut ausmachen, wie sich unsere Weltanschauung und die Art, wie wir die Natur betrachten, verändert hat. Auf der einen Seite sind sie immer noch unglaublich wirkungsvoll und anziehend. Und auf der anderen Seite ist da dieses Deutsche, gewaltvoll Überhebliche in seiner solitären Innerlichkeit und ein Moment, der gerade jetzt sehr off und alles andere als aufklärerisch scheint. Insofern kann ich auch gut nachvollziehen, und finde es schlüssig, warum “Strike Germany” in einem ihrer Beitragsbilder den Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer zeigt. Vielleicht kann man der Idee von Erhabenheit, die ich insbesondere mit ihm verbinde wieder zu mehr politischer Relevanz verhelfen, wenn man Erhabenheit, wie der Politologe und Soziologe Oliver Marchart es beispielsweise tut, als diskursives Mittel verwendet, um über einen revolutionären Moment zu sprechen, der als solcher undarstellbar bleibt und sich der Repräsentation entzieht – sobald wir nämlich in der Lage sind, hinreichend zu beschreiben, was das Neue eigentlich ist, ist es nicht mehr neu, sondern bereits Teil des Bekannten, des 'Alten'.
Das Gespräch mit Maria Moritz für Hatje Cantz führte László Rupp im März 2024.
L I V I N G 17th – 19th of February 2024
Lena Appel and Swan Lee, John Hussain Flindt, Johann Lentes, Maria Moritz
On entering the exhibition"LIVING", the two-part work "Frau Debisch hebt ab“ seems to extend the movement of visitors - from Elbestraße into the exhibition space. This movement sets the tension between the exhibition and the theme of living. On the one hand, a mimetic approach to living; the installation of the works in the space almost feel like the furnishing of a living space and thus part of life. On the other hand, the genuine characteristic of art is not to be part of life, but a "special sphere" excluded from it, which thus reflects the living in life. This theme, which is initially evoked in "Frau Debisch hebt ab" through the spatial dynamics of the picture's division into two parts, can also be found in the handling of the pieces of furniture depicted in Maria Moritz's other paintings. While a (living) room can also be seen in that painting, the diptych "Empfang" initially also shows a clearly identifiable office chair. The accompanying lamp, however, has a dual character in that its line simultaneously creates an abstract pictorial composition. In the exhibition's oscillation between a mimesis of life and a reflection of it, this abstraction creates a moment of transcendence, of transcending living, through its non-representational nature. The film "A Heavy Presence" by Lena Appel and Swan Lee puts viewers in the irritating position of exploring a house from inside and out, without knowing anything about its context. Sitting in front of the television is reminiscent of living itself, a moment of cosy retreat within one's own four walls. However, the enigmatic and indeterminate exploration of the house that becomes apparent while watching the film creates an uncanny appearance of living in contrast to the homely setting in front of the television. In addition to the tentative camera work, which presents the interior design as astonishing phenomena, the soundtrack and the interrupting sequences of abstract dots on a white background emphasise the specific perspective the film casts on the house as well as the films general artificiality. If the film suggests to the viewer at times that they themselves are in the unknown house, especially through the point-of-view camera, they are brought back into the exhibition space through the non-realistic moments. Before descending into the basement of the exhibition space to John Hussain's Flindt's installation "Attic Prelude", two small self-portraits of Appel and Lee hanging on the wall in the filmed house create a further cross-connection between living, art and the exhibition of living. On entering Flindt's installation, you are initially confronted with objects that you would expect to find in a personal archive - in a cellar or an attic. However, the subtle design interventions in the arrangement of the objects soon become apparent. The tension between the archival character of the objects and the design of their arrangement points to the installation's question of how the semantic charge of the objects is experienced by visitors to the exhibition. Some of the objects, as well as the photographs, originate from the artist's personal life. The installation is thus an examination of his own political and cultural identity. Through the indeterminacy of the objects, which contradicts the personal reference, the installation simultaneously opens up the possibility for viewers to examine their own relationship to the collected objects. The interface between living and art is thematised in Flindt's installation through the display of personally charged objects, whereby, as in the works of Moritz, Appel and Lee, it is their artistic design that detaches the objects from their concretion, allowing them to be more than objects in a living situation and which invites visitors to contribute their own thoughts and feelings.
Text: Leander Ruprecht
https://www.saasfeepavillon.de/satellit/soloshows/
For the opening, Nicolas Buzzi accompanied the work with a sound installation. Using an acoustic beamformer, they projected field recordings and electronically generated sounds onto Moritz's horizon as well as onto two mirrors, which thus reflected image and sound into the exhibition space.’
https://deuxdeux.de/Maria-Moritz-Teaser
13. Februar 2023
Im ersten Moment scheinen die Malereien von Maria Moritz, die sich durch das Gebäude der Dürerstraße verteilten, private Einblicke zu gewähren. Verlassen und zugleich belebt wirken die Stillleben, die vor allem eines gemeinsam haben: Sie zeigen Schlafzimmer, genauer gesagt Betten, in denen die Künstlerin selbst geschlafen hat. Die Titel orientieren sich dabei an den Adressen der jeweiligen Wohnungen. Moritz spielt damit nicht nur auf die vermeintliche Untrennbarkeit von Kunstschaffenden und ihren Werken an, sondern greift den gängigen Habitus der sozialen Medien auf, private Räume zu inszenieren wie zu stilisieren.
Text: Vivien Kämpf
https://irgac.org/articles/the-potential-of-anti-capitalist-narratives/
THE POTENTIAL OF ANTI-CAPITALIST NARRATIVES
Politics involve more than public management and a rational assessment of interests. Some may have forgotten, but politics still involves imagination, the capacity to dream collectively, to tell stories; politics still contains a form of mythology.
31. OKTOBER 2022
In the context of the lecture series New Faces of Authoritarianism in the Global South, I started to reflect on the potential of narratives, images, and myths, including their emotional dimensions. I became intrigued by the question of how they can be used as part of a strategy in the struggle against neoliberal authoritarianism in Western Europe. In one of our sessions, Boaventura Monjane argued that in the cases of Mozambique, South Africa, and Zimbabwe it may be possible, though difficult, to deploy left-wing populism to defeat its right-wing counterpart. Moreover, the same means could assist the convergence of different classes into a broad united front in order to achieve anti-capitalist change. This, in turn, made me ponder the question of how to extract the effectiveness of populism without implementing its dangerous downsides. To shed light on this inquiry, I will draw on arguments on the use of myths:
As Roland Barthes has shown, myths are to be understood as communication systems and communicated messages (Barthes, 1957). In this sense, everything can be a carrier of a message: the visual, auditory, spoken, written, and representational—all of these can, as an associative interplay of signifier (the expression and form) and signified (the content and imagination), yield a second-order sign and thus a myth.
Myths, as a form of narrative, are not necessarily counter-concepts to truth in political interplay. They form mental constructs, collective ideas, and dreams that are as much a part of reality and politics as „hard facts,“ public management, and rational advocacy. My main question is how myths and narratives can be used to simultaneously address differing concerns and needs of diverse groups and how they can help overcome fragmentation to accelerate the urgent social and ecological transformation of society.
Both left and right-wing populisms turn out to be effective when their stakeholders successfully play on the political stage with images that attract people on the basis of affect. By dividing political orientation into four layers—affective importance, epidemiocracy, narrative structures, and mythical attractions—Yves Citton has discussed how affects mobilize us: “Hunger, lust, envy, commiseration, hope, hate will certainly push me to act, but I won’t be able to enter any specific action until I can integrate my possible moves within the structure provided by a narrative or story” (Citton 2010, 64).
AFFECTS AND UNIFYING SYMBOLS
As affects form the first level of mobilization, it is critical to acknowledge popular concerns and fears, as opposed to dismissing them as ill-founded from the start. Telling those who are afraid of higher taxes or a rise in criminal activity that they are wrong can make them wait for someone to offer a solution—however damaging it may be. The so-called Querdenker*innen in Germany, a group of people who have been protesting against the measures taken to combat the COVID-19 pandemic, provide an example of the mobilizing power of negative affect wherein fears trigger more fears and destructive narratives. Furthermore, in this case, the demand to not wear a mask becomes a symbol conveying unmet needs and longings in general.
Esotericism, spirituality, anthroposophy, and their self-assessment as heroic opponents of the regime has played a major role in their coalition from the very beginning. However, the composition of their worldview is rather inhomogeneous. The rejection of the mask and the undesirable meanings attached to it has united them and established their identity as a group. Not wearing the mask and adopting an anti-vaccination stance is seen, by most of the movement’s supporters, as resistance to oppression. Along with vaccination, the mask has become a symbol for a perceived sense of subjugation and un-representation. The Querdenker*innen movement thus offered all those who felt betrayed and unrepresented by the state and institutionalized mainstream politics an opportunity for identification.
The fact that so many people find themselves in such stirring narratives and are attracted to symbols is hardly surprising, given that it is what narratives and myths do: they explain the past in order to enable and justify future action. We are drawn to them because they make sense and alleviate contingency fears, ambiguity, and disorientation. They respond to these phenomena and create coherence, a sense of being well taken care of, and identity through exaggeration or reduction of complexity. This is not a bad thing per se, and because it is so effective, it is also very promising. Following Yves Citton, in order to counteract destructive narratives and myths—namely those that are suicidal in nature as they provide short-term relief, but ultimately lead to a worsening of the situation, or are detrimental in the sense that they cause injustice and danger for others—we need constructive myths and narratives.
COMMON DENOMINATOR FOR AN ALTERNATIVE UNION
But what does a constructive myth look like? How can it appeal to different groups and address their different fragilities simultaneously, as well as address the root causes of their problems? How can affects be harnessed without being manipulative, but rather mobilize critical judgment? In employing myth, how can we avoid undermining the concerns of diverse groups and containing their agonistic struggle? How, then, do we create a counter-hegemonic bloc that is cohesive and united, but at the same time diverse in its fragilities and in its forming stance? How do we establish a space for those who would otherwise be tempted to follow a false prophet and identitarian enemy images?
Meanwhile, neoliberal capitalism, as so many scholars have pointed out, has penetrated all areas of our lives and is in the process of destroying them and the conditions for our continued existence. In that regard, it has the potential to represent a systemic enemy image for the entire human population. In economic terms, especially since the global financial crisis of 2008, it has threatened and even destroyed diverse livelihoods through deregulation, privatization, strengthening of the free market, and socio-political austerity measures.
Politically, as Chantal Mouffe argues in her book For a Left Populism (2018), the competitive order of neoliberalism has been accepted by almost all ruling political parties across Western Europe. Under Gerhard Schröder, chancellor of Germany from 1998 to 2005, the Social Democrats also entered into an alliance with global neoliberalism. Within almost the entire parliamentary political spectrum, from centre-left to centre-right, there has been no apparent alternative to neoliberal globalization. This, Mouffe argues, has blurred the boundaries between the political parties, making it impossible for the population to choose among real alternatives, making them feel unrepresented, weakening democracy.
It is also neoliberal capitalism that has turned us individuals into ego entrepreneurs, striving for self-maximization and making our self-worth dependent on performance and efficiency. The subjectivity technologies set forth by neoliberal capitalism demand us to constantly reinvent ourselves. Moreover, as Eva Illouz (2007) discusses, they erode our social relationships, since our interactions too are shaped by capitalist principles, such as when lovers consume goods that are conducive to a romantic atmosphere and intimacy (dinner in a restaurant, for example). Or in friendship, taken to extremes by Instagram where the maximization law of capitalism applies most particularly and the question of how many people you know becomes at least as important as how well you know them. Friendship, in other words, becomes a form of social capital and intimate relationships are determined by political and economic models such as exchange, trade, and capital.
On the basis of an economic, political, social and above all environmental problem, I therefore claim that a common denominator could be the fight against neoliberalism, which could create a sense of belonging to a counter-hegemonic bloc through all the negative affects. Such a bloc should not exist for the sake of harmony, risking a loss of conflictuality, but rather should be united particularly out of urgency, simply because, due to the climate crisis, time is running out. However, because a counter-position to neoliberal capitalism understood in this way encompasses many thematic lines, it is often too abstract as an agenda to advance the transformation of our social and ecological society quickly enough. Therefore, more people, such as the climate activist Greta Thunberg, and more narratives and myths must symbolize this disidentification with the regime of exploitation and destruction and serve as placeholders for anti-capitalist ideas.
ELABORATING ON CONSTRUCTIVE MYTHS
At documenta fifteen in Kassel, one of the most important exhibition series of contemporary art in the world, we can find such a constructive myth and prefiguration for anti-capitalist ideas. This year, the art exhibition was directed by the collective ruangrupa, which was founded in 2000 in Jakarta by a group of artists. The central image for ruangrupa and this year’s documenta fifteen is the communally shared rice barn, which is called lumbung in Indonesian. It is used to store surplus crops for the benefit of the community. It stands as a model for the practice of documenta fifteen and thus for a collective fund of resources. It is an image to hold onto, one that guides solidarity and “satisfies hunger” in a double sense.
The image of the rice barn does everything that the mask does: it becomes a symbol for unfulfilled demands, the difference being that it attacks real problems, such as the imbalance in the distribution of resources and attention. And in doing so, it is additionally emancipatory because it points to an exit strategy. It celebrates hybridity, collaborative cosmopolitanism, collectivity, shared resources, and shared experience, as well as cultural interconnections. These are myths as well, but constructive myths: they ignite a disruptive fire and pose a challenge to the highly capitalist visibility regimes of the art world and constitute, as Homi K. Bhaba (2022) puts it, a redistribution of the symbolic surplus of the art world towards a commonly shared cultural resource.
However, anti-capitalist narratives and myths also run the risk of degenerating into a fetish and thus becoming fashionable and consumable. They can fall prey to an aestheticization in which the concept itself becomes a resource for capitalism and they lose their substantive dimension, such as when certain textile companies dress their models as Fridays-for-Future demonstrators, engage in greenwashing, or cover up the fact that their sector produces more CO2 emissions than international flights and cruises. Despite this danger of co-optation, these counter-narratives and myths, through their affective dimension, contain the potential to overcome the fragmentation of counter-hegemonic forces and show a way out of the vicious cycle of profit maximization and social and ecological exploitation with a common attitude—an attitude that can, in turn, promote the development of concrete solutions.
*This text is part of the Dossier IRGAC LECTURE SERIES – New Faces of Authoritarianism: Interdisciplinary Perspectives from the Global South
Text: Maria Moritz