08
Hauntology:
The Shadow & Spectre of the Curator
The Shadow & Spectre of the Curator
Berkeley Art Museum’s newest exhibit, Hauntology, presents the rich and tension-filled concept of “hauntology” illustrated by a variety of unsettling artwork. Curated by BAM director Lawrence Rinder and musician Scott Hewicker, the exhibit uses philosopher Jacques Derrida’s theory of “hauntology,” the present being continually haunted by the spirits of the past, as its conceptual framework for exploring this theme in music and visual art. Derrida built upon Marx’s idea of “ontology,” the “paradoxical state of the spectre—neither being nor nonbeing,” in a post-Berlin Wall, post-communist world. In this description, hauntology can be seen as a form of ignorance by the Western world of the ghosts still inhabiting our world. The uneasiness and guilt about, and the haunting of, the past influenced British music critic Simon Reynolds to apply the term to a group of contemporary electronic musicians employing similar styles in the making and production of their music. Compiling songs from old television commercials and other “found” sounds on analog equipment; these musical groups forge new sounds from old.
Although the concept is very theoretical, Rinder and Hewicker stress Hauntology’s exploration of the fluidity of identity in the current show by mixing older work with the more contemporary acquisitions of BAM. Accusations thrown at Rinder and Hewicker claim that they use this show a curatorial vanity artwork in which to display their own illustration of their idea of the concept leads to very circular thinking, indeed. Hauntology as a concept is rich, but there are some questions to consider in order to determine whether the show is successful or not. The idea of the past as a specter to the present works well for an exhibit of visual art on multitude of levels. First, spirits from past art movements continually haunt contemporary art practices. Second, specific to the exhibit, works from different eras commingle and share close quarters. This treatment allows the viewer to time-travel through each work. The past is messy and random, so should Rinder and Hewicker apply similar methods to assembling the exhibit? Is it appropriate for the two curators to mold a show around such an abstract concept as hauntology? And, most importantly, do the concept and the art hang together and work?
Eerie music by Ivan Seal greeted me upon my entrance to the exhibit, setting the mood. Played on a loop, Stuttering Piano (2007) teased my ear with the distant and muffled sounds of a piano. The paintings, etchings, and drawings in the first room of the exhibit share a monochromatic palette of blacks, whites, and grays. My eyes lingered over Whistler’s etching, Wine Glass (1858). An empty wine glass sits off-center, engulfed by the surrounding shadows. Recently set down and forgotten, the drinker has disappeared into the ether.
Carina Baumann’s photograph Untitled (2008-09) rewards repeated viewings due to its deceptive first impression of an all black canvas. As I moved around the piece, I deciphered the facial features of a woman’s tear-filled eyes. This image successfully captured the idea of being both there and not there, in accordance to the movements of the viewer. As I moved away, the muted face vanished into the blackness of its background. I thought these two works predicted the trajectory of the exhibit, but this thought, too, soon evaporated.
Considering the works seen, an epiphany struck me about what type of art fits into the narrative of Hauntology. Depictions of the “haunting” of a past human presence: the remains of man-made objects in abandoned warehouses, forests, hotel rooms, or arenas. Details that conjure up traces of the past may include hints of civilization lost, co-existing with a formal rhythm of visible and invisible elements. By visible and invisible, I mean that an image can visibly show a desolate landscape allowing the viewer to fill in the “invisible” details. What is missing from the landscape? What did the city look like when it was populated? The idea of place and placelessness invoked images of urban landscapes fallen into disrepair, sagging industrial buildings, nature uninhibited, unbridled by the human need to control it.
Turning a corner into the second room of the exhibit, I attempted to prove my hypothesis about the content of successful works. Moonlight in a Park (1917) by Rudolph Ingerie depicts a nighttime stroll enjoyed by a couple. Painted in subdued colors, the figures are illuminated only by a full moon and dwarfed by a forest behind them. This painting works as a blurry dreamscape, a trace of times past. Untitled (2005), a photograph by Donald Mosher, focuses on a spider’s web spun in a desolate urban landscape. No other figures exist inside the confines of the print. The detritus of industry blurs in the background, allowing the organic shape of a web to reign supreme in a world without people. Lutz Bacher’s video Olympiad (1997) pans a surveillance camera across the empty Olympic Stadium in Berlin. The footage has all the hallmarks of a damaged videotape: it randomly changes speed, stops, or creates static symptomatic of tracking problems. The site of a monumental piece of architecture created for the purpose of holding a multitude of people is evocative devoid of human presence.
After a survey of the work in the show, I returned to the questions asked at the beginning of my journey. Are the curators guilty of creating a show in order to demonstrate their response to Derrida’s theory of hauntology? Yes, I do think that this show may ultimately serve as a vanity piece for the curators but the idea is so rich that I allowed them a pass. Overall, the jumbled approach to the displaying of works, “the curated randomness,” in regards to their dates and time periods, worked for it, but I still walked away from the exhibit feeling confused, scattered, and distracted, ultimately haunted. But, wasn’t that the point?
© 2010 Humble Pie Magazine