| Yasmil Raymond: Perhaps it is a question of saturation rather than opposites, the choices in this case seem to express a shared distaste for rigid frames of ideological ghettos or the spectacle of gruesome violence. Many of the works included in this exhibition focus on issues of political pertinence such as war (Yael Bartana, Walid Raad, Sean Snyder, Josephine Meckseper), human rights (Fernando Bryce, Dan Perjovschi, Mircea Cantor), immigration (Yto Barrada, Banu Cennetoglu), mobility (Gimhongsok, Tomas Saraceno, Haegue Yang), and global capitalism (Cao Fei, Lia Perjovschi); however, they ponder on these topical questions from the perspective of the language of art, the adventure of creating forms that articulate a shared subversive desire to change, to restore optimism, to redefine what it means ‘political consciousness’. |
|
Yasmil Raymond and Doryun Chong are the co-curators of Brave New Worlds, on view at the Walker Art Center until February 17, 2008. Nicholas Weist is the executive editor of NY Arts.
Nicholas Weist: Brave New Worlds addresses the state of the political consciousness in the international art community, but you’ve avoided overtly “political” work and focused instead on the personal and philosophical. Do you think localized action is important in the face of expanding globalization?
Yasmil Raymond: Perhaps it is a question of saturation rather than opposites, the choices in this case seem to express a shared distaste for rigid frames of ideological ghettos or the spectacle of gruesome violence. Many of the works included in this exhibition focus on issues of political pertinence such as war (Yael Bartana, Walid Raad, Sean Snyder, Josephine Meckseper), human rights (Fernando Bryce, Dan Perjovschi, Mircea Cantor), immigration (Yto Barrada, Banu Cennetoglu), mobility (Gimhongsok, Tomas Saraceno, Haegue Yang), and global capitalism (Cao Fei, Lia Perjovschi); however, they ponder on these topical questions from the perspective of the language of art, the adventure of creating forms that articulate a shared subversive desire to change, to restore optimism, to redefine what it means ‘political consciousness’.
Doryun Chong: Perhaps one way to answer this question is to first turn to the over-used, often misappropriated adage, “Personal is political.” There are admittedly certain skepticisms that motivated us: can art really address such mega-topics like globalization in ways other than superficial, trivial, and one-dimensional? Should it? In the meantime, the hackneyed complaint of “not enough art, too much politics” constantly surfaces to police the definition of the artist and artmaking in simplistic, hermetic ways. We’ve come to believe that serious artists and artmaking that interested us were by definition politically committed, or at least curious. And critically, this form of artmaking doesn’t distinguish between its contents and forms—the contents are the forms.
NW: You’ve chosen works for the show because they are quiet, personal statements. Are you concerned that by putting them in the context of each other and in a show that focuses on their political aspect, you will accentuate the politics of the works beyond the original intentions of the artists?
YR: One could say that this is the impulse behind organizing a group exhibitions, editing an anthology, or compiling a mixtape, the aim is to bring together different intensities in order to construct a situation where individual ideas can react or come together with one another. Like music, works of art can be extremely generous and accommodating, and allow for distant commonalities to appear closer than they actually are. I hope that the works in this exhibition will make a greater deal of sense as they are experienced together, as visitors walk from one piece to the next, contemplating, thinking, and reflecting on their individualities. We brought up Huxley’s Brave New World by way of departure, to speak about art that is conceptual and formally politically conscious. That is why the show begins with Haegue Yang’s installation Blind Room and ends with Rika Noguchi’s series “The Sun,” two pieces that address similar urgencies: on one hand, the necessity for constantly losing oneself, and on the other, the negation of specificity and location.
