The Future of "art"

I attended a student art exposition on the Raamgracht this past weekend, and I'm not sure how I feel about those whose work will be filling the museums in a couple of years.

One wall read in black duck tape "FEED ME", under which a mechanized robot with an upside-down Barbie for a head convulsed disturbingly. On the wall across from it were some lovely human specimens: hair trimmings, nail clippings, and what I will dub "body dust" out of lack of knowledge due to lack of ability to continue examination because my stomach was turning. hmmm. Who is hungry, and for what are they hungry? It certainly did get my brain activated (along with my gag reflex). Could this be a parody on the "starving artist" stereotype? The exposition did at least come with some peanuts, chips, and Dutch drop, though judging by the "Pieces of Me" on the wall, I don't know if normal food will suffice . . .

Yet seriously, I wonder if time is currently being devalued somewhat in the art world. I know this makes me sound preservationistic, but Michelangelo spent so long on the Sistine Chapel and, dangit, I admire him for it! How can these young whippersnappers put their bodily excess in little baggies for their art school project?!

(Please ignore me. I'm just jealous since I chose an education in theory. I have to work long and hard for my grades. My mistake!)

Dream Amsterdam ... photos to show my grandchildren someday, haha

I couldn't help but think of the Holocaust as we were told to disrobe, herded into a claustrophobia-inducing parking garage, and separated by gender as "headman" Spencer Tunick came by to inspect our bodies. Except - oh, wait - this was voluntary. Around two thousand of us participated in the Dream Amsterdam photoshoot from 3:30 - 9:00 AM today, all for art, and I would do it again in a heartbeat (as long as it wasn't too cold or raining, ahem, ahem).

I hadn't expected our posing to involve so much acrobatics, though. For the first shot, we stood on chairs in a Marnixstraat parking garage, with just a short ledge keeping us from falling. At one point we were asked to reach our arms out behind us and grab the edge of the ceiling. There were, needless to say, a few scares, with some people falling off their chairs, thankfully forward and not backward over the edge. Then on bicycles the women had to put one foot on the pedal, sitting on the bike, and keep the other on the ground as we leaned back as far as we could looking up into the sky. The most challenging position was the floating bridge shot on the Leliegracht, where we stood right over the canal on small metal squares. We couldn't hold onto anything and just had to try not to look at our feet while Tunick took a LONG time snapping our picture.

Well it sounds like I am complaining, but actually I enjoyed this experience. It was amazing to be involved in a communal, naked, photograph session by a famous photographer, in beloved Amsterdam. People were much more friendly than they normally are in A'dam while we were naked together. Seriously - there must be something about communal nakedness that makes people feel more confident in striking up a conversation. The atmosphere was simply a bit giddy, with giggles erupting among our shared frigidness in the five-'o-clock fog. The feeling of a vague "freedom" in nakedness was contagious, and I am so glad that I caught it. Now when I walk past the Marnixstraat parking garage and the Leliegracht, I can chuckle to myself and remember fondly that I was naked there while the city slept, clueless of its defamation.

National Identity Post number One

I have been thinking alot about national identity for the past few weeks. This is for various reasons, one of which is that the Netherlands is an interesting place to ponder the subject. Even with the Koninginnedag fever just witnessed on April 30, I would not consider many of the Dutch people I know to be very nationalistic. There is at this time, however, an interest in defining "Dutchness."


There are many art and music projects lately that address the complicated subject of Dutch identity. One that struck me particularly was a series of photographs that were in the Stedelijk Museum last year by Rineke Dijkstra. She photographs a (now) young woman who immigrated from Bosnia to the Netherlands every two years; in the various pictures a gradual change in the girl toward "Dutch assimilation" is very noticable. (Three of the pictures are shown here.). Also, presently there is the Be(com)ing Dutch exhibition in the Van Abbemuseum, with which one of my friends is involved.



What I find potentially troubling in all of this identity discussion is that I wonder if the championing of "samenleving" (communality) is used in some cases as a prettily-packaged substitute for "integration." The statement "samenwonen = samenleven" (living together = cohabiting) I find suspect: Does it mean that people who live in the same area really must have the same life? How far does this go? Must they share the same religion, lifestyle, food, desires? It is difficult to know in some cases, but it is certain that some groups in the Netherlands definitely think integration = assimilation. As I am writing my thesis on asylum-seeking children here, I was horrified to see that Vluchtelingenwerk, an organization to help asylum-seekers in the Netherlands, measures the integration of people with a barometer. Sure, you need guidelines to help people feel at home in the Netherlands, but a barometer???

(On another "foreigner" note, the international population of students in the Netherlands is sadly going to diminish in the coming year. Or at least the international student population will change to a bunch of rich brats, or starving students on major loans. This is because the Dutch government has decided to no longer subsidize the tuition fees of international students, like myself. The tuition is more than doubling. Thankfully I came when I did!)

Go-Between in the Bijlmer

The other day I attended the Go Between curatorial project in de Bijlmer, which is an area of southeastern Amsterdam. This art event, through de Appel museum, is a collaboration among several young curators from around the world. They have curated various artworks, also by international artists, that pertain in some way with to de Bijmer, which was planned after the Second World War and consists of many high-rise and futuristic apartment complexes, a far cry from the mainly 1600s and 1700s architecture of Amsterdam centrum. Though originally planned for "regular" middle class Dutch families, de Bijlmer ended up being mainly filled with immigrants and many people of Suriname heritage. This multicultural neighborhood is a reminder (and educator) of the Netherlands' history of colonialism. In fact, I didn't know much at all about Suriname until I attended the Kwakoe festival in de Bijlmer last year.

Since we forgot the map of how to get to the Go Between, it took us a good deal of time -- we soon discovered that the "Florijn" flat that we sought was not one, but several, huge apartment complexes. This meant stopping to ask at least five different people for directions. It was very exciting to get there at last; I found it interesting that they chose to use an apartment as the primary location for the project, which is spread throughout the area.

It was disappointing that Surasi Kusolwong, a Bangkok artist who was supposed to be there that evening, was unable to come (visa and financial problems were mentioned). They did have a Mexican artist there, Gustavo Artigas, and they showed his video art called "The Stumble Project." I must say that I was not too excited by this -- sometimes I like video art, sometimes I don't, and this one was just a so-so in my book. What surprised me was that two of the curators praised his project because it was supposedly one that really focused on the people of the area. Artigas collaborated with the people of the community, but unfortunately what I saw did not really reflect that. The video-taped area consisted of a square drain-thingy in the concrete that had dirt in it, and it was uneven and therefore could easily make people stumble (hence the name). People's lower bodies were filmed as they walked or ran by, some of them seemingly tripping on purpose. To me, this could have been in so many places of the world; its "universal" feel actually reminded me of a Coca-Cola commercial. I thought that the film would have been localized by his collaboration with the people, but it did not seem this way after all. I think part of the reason for its de-localization is because the heads of the people are not shown. There is also little sound, with Dutch not being recognizable. Perhaps this was a project that did "represent" the community at the time because its people are, after all, the bodies within it. It is a shame, though, that its filming process localization could not have been preserved in the end product.

The main event of this Go Between evening was a discussion, part of which we missed due to our late arrival. The debates over how to reach / satisfy certain audiences and over art versus momument were not really my thing; this curatorial realm is just a bit too nitpicky for me. However, I was all ears (and suppressed laughs) during an interesting, quintessential, mock "encounter with the Other" which took place in the middle of the dialogue. While the Dutch curators and random art industry people were less than respectful to one another (their discussion was replete with interruptions, accusations, and general butting-in), their attitude, and even tone of voice, changed when trying to bring the "foreigners" into the debate. A couple of them looked toward some members of the Chinese art industry who were there exploring the project, stating super sweetly that they would love to hear their thoughts. During all of the time-consuming translation process, broken English, and blank spells for thinking, the Dutch discussion leaders were very respectful and quiet. This went on for quite awhile -- apparently it is more interesting to hear the opinions of "Other" others as opposed to others from your own culture.

The Go Between project did not get a good review in the Volkskrant's article, which argued that they put their party organizing before the community members. I wouldn't say that, but I do know that they will be having two sheep roasted this weekend at a party. The curators even saw the slaughtering of the sheep, so at least they paid attention to the animal members of the community. But seriously, from their discussion, I do believe they attempted to immerse themselves in the community and to engage community interests, but this is always a challenge in the field of art.