梁展峰按︰當大伙兒從文化政治和政治文化層面說展覽﹐此刻代發友人文章﹐希望把關注點回到藝術本身的「內部政治」。個人更同意文中「Museum text: Interpretation or confusion?」的部份
文章作者︰Vivian Ting
The LV show: It’s enough to make your eyeballs sweat!
Wouldn’t it be refreshing to look at some cool art in an air-conditioned museum on one of these sweat-soaked hot summer days? In most cases, my answer would be: Yes! But this summer’s blockbuster show – Louis Vuitton: A Passion for Creation – is igniting mostly criticism. The art museum has been blamed for spending $5.9 million to put up a vulgar display for the big corporate brand. It seems hot in there, doesn’t it? To go or not to go: that is the question.
I have to clarify that I am not an ‘art purist’ suggesting that a union between art and commerce would taint the loftiness of fine art. Neither am I a ‘museum elitist’ who would oppose the museum’s attempt to engage a wider audience through blockbuster exhibits that are associated with the consumer culture. As a naïve opportunist, I am more than happy to see a $5.9 million show that ‘provides more opportunities for the people in Hong Kong to appreciate contemporary and avant-garde art’, as promised by Mr. Tang Hoi Chiu, chief curator of the Art Museum.[1] I decided to go and see how each penny spent would offer the audience some cool ideas towards the understanding of contemporary art.
‘Glass Cloud’ and the glory of ‘Art’
When I entered the exhibition space, I was greeted by ‘Glass Cloud’, an intriguing model showing architectural concepts for the future site of the LV Foundation. Many audio stations are sprawled out to help visitors sneak through the development plan of the project. And through recorded interviews and documentaries blasting from the stations, the Foundation attempts to impress visitors about the remarkable project that brings revolutionary technologies, artistic audacity, and expertise together for a powerful vision – welcoming the public to explore the great LV collection of art. It’s truly fascinating that a contemporary art space can be valued as a precious artwork (especially in comparison to the faceless building of the Hong Kong Art Museum). But how does this architecture project enlighten visitors about the value of contemporary art? Surely, architecture is a prominent form of art, but this exhibition does not look into the art of architecture and the interpretation sheds little light on the building per se. Instead, it focuses on showing the technicality of the project, ignoring the formal significance of architecture within its historical context of art. It seems to be a silent yet blatant attempt to highlight the Foundation’s, or more precisely, the brand’s passion and commitment for such a splendid object – a symbol of elevated high culture. As a result, the value of contemporary art seems to be in making a halo of glory for the big firm.
I couldn’t help but wonder: Is this how art thrives today? Why does art lean over to the dominant culture? What is left for contemporary art if its provocative insight is lost?
‘Art’ and retail therapy
Hot questions kept striking me at the back of my head, and I was looking for some genuine objects that would cool my mind. In the section of ‘Louis Vuitton and Art’, I felt bewildered by a nostalgic display of objects showing the great LV heritage. The poetically dim atmosphere, with spotlights cleverly set above and beneath the delicate glass cases, allowed these objects to magnify their charming aura. These were not age-old products on display; something nobler and fuller was being shown, embodying certain intrinsic values – artwork. Of course, this miraculous transformation did not end here. For those who are into the latest trends in fashion, LV was considerate enough to show how renowned artists have elevated the eye candies of luxury into the very clouds of art. Browsing through Stephen Sprouse’s daring designs of Graffiti motif, Takashi Murakami’s light-hearted touches of colour and pattern, and Richard Prince’s whimsical appropriation of comics, I felt drawn into a luxury-consumer wonderland where pretty things are the panacea, and owning them is the road to salvation. Embarrassingly, instead of staying cool, I was hot for these ‘art-like’ objects and mixed my vague sense of appreciation with an unlimited desire for possession.
Here, the major lesson is that ‘retail therapy’ can be mimicked in the museum – a public cultural institution built ‘for the purpose of study, education and enjoyment’.[2] According to Hervé Mikaeloff, the curator, these works by the post-Pop artists represent exciting interactions between everyday objects and artistic creativity, which again highlights the statement that ‘art plays an absolutely key role at Louis Vuitton’.[3] Hooray for the beauty of banality! Let’s forget how Pop art was considered subversive in using kitchy images of popular culture to mock our vulnerable condition of being. We are now entering an age of pure pleasure, in which art goes hand in hand with global corporations offering consumerism as today’s elixir. Silly me. Why should I have gone to the art museum for a dose of illusion? Wouldn’t it have been more direct to go to the LV store nearby?
Lost in the forest of ‘Art’
Leaving the room of ‘hot items’, I headed towards the jewel of the show – a variety of items selected from the LV Foundation for the specific context of Hong Kong. This section, ‘The Collection, A Choice’, emphasizes the ‘dialogues’ opening between different forms, across various spaces, and with diverse media in reflecting the energy and complexity of Hong Kong. Presumably, this gives visitors an access point to look at contemporary art in connection with their personal experiences.
How did this cool idea work out? At one point, visitors are absorbed into the fantasia of the RMB City, Cao Fei’s animated video. Through traditional vistas, multi-cultural icons, and modern brand logos embraced by this surreal world, viewers are encouraged to think about the chaotic boom of contemporary China. Next, visitors are surrounded by teams of F1 racers and mechanics in Andreas Gursky’s F1 Boxenstopp I-IV. Time seems frozen but the motions give a spectacular rhythm of colours, forms, and patterns. Then Jean-Michel Basquiat’s Ogun, the Yoruba war deity, looms out from the wall. This grotesque figure, alongside elements of mixed media collage, street art, and Congo’s nail fetish, are shared with viewers to show how Basquiat’s cultural identity is articulated in a global context. Obviously, the exhibition narration is vigorous and swift: while one work addresses a burning social issue, the next piece leaps into the realm of formal significance. Navigating through the diverse works is like, at its best, a dazzling shopping experience, where all items, wanted or unwanted, come conveniently in one package (perhaps this explains what the Hong Kong context is all about.). At its worst, the exhibition disintegrates into bits and pieces without a clearly-stated theme to explain what the juxtaposition is trying to say. The museum becomes a junk shop selling a mass of bric-à-brac. Visitors/consumers become lost in a forest of things that start to look the same and people forget what they should be bringing home.
Do the city experiences of Hong Kong help in deciphering the cryptic language of the works? Many people in Hong Kong, like those in New York or London, may be concerned about such issues as identity crisis, clashes between tradition and modernity, or spiritual quests for immortality. The so-called Hong Kong experience is too broad a term to remain meaningful. It offers no immediate point of access for understanding the visual codes and it does even less to bridge the art display with the visitors’ personal experiences. Looking around the exhibition area, many visitors seemed to be frustrated or even intimidated by the ‘unattainable’ works of art.
Museum text: Interpretation or confusion?
Shamefully, the museum text seemed to care less about its role in educating and helping people appreciate the artworks. Fancy jargon and ambiguous phrases made the text lengthy and esoteric, creating more confusion than understanding.
Gilbert and George’s Class War, Militant, Gateway, for example, is a gigantic piece with young boys, monotonous cityscapes, and dewy fresh flowers, a new outlook through a vibrant palette of red, blue, and green. It is a complex and multi-layered work, but the museum makes sure that visitors will only have a bitter taste of its essence. The text reads:
´ With this triptych, Class War, Militant, Gateway (1986), a manifesto for a modern epic, Gilbert and George for the first time created an artwork on a monumental scale. As part of an agenda focusing on humanity and existence – “we believe in the human condition as the supreme ideal” with a view to “Art for all” – this work expresses the artists’ urge to create a new humanism by means of powerful images whose symbolic charge allows for multiple, always accessible levels of interpretation.´
Their triptych illustrates the adventure of individuality, of the transition from membership in a community to the achievement of personal awareness and self-affirmation. The stick, the work’s core emblem, figures in many cultures, Eastern and Western, as the sign of hard-won dignity.’
The text (124 words) shows visitors how to look at the triptych. In the first paragraph (82 words), an explanation is given for the artists’ notion about creating a huge triptych like this. It reveals little about the artist’ belief: ‘Art for all’, or about the particular aspect of humanity and existence that is attributed to such a notion. The text suggests that the images shown in the work are powerful symbols that can be interpreted at numerous levels. It sounds more like an excuse for not giving any socio-cultural background for looking at the work. After all, any free-flow interpretation at all would be accepted, so why bother? Looking at the subject matter, some obvious questions might be asked, like: Who are the characters? What are these people doing? Why are they engaged in a class war? and What is the result? These questions are all left unanswered, and the text only gives the grand statement that the work is about individuality, belonging, and personal growth. How these concepts are embodied, is left a mystery. The only generous gesture made by the text is the single bit of information: the stick is a sign of hard-won dignity. Thus, visitors must decipher the rest of the symbolism and make guesses about why this work is considered to be a ‘manifesto for a modern epic’. The museum’s interpretation seems to be ignoring its role to communicate to visitors, and shows how the curator is far more cleverer than visitors in understanding contemporary art.
Does this matter? The exhibition only asks people to come and adore the great works of contemporary art. As Bernard Arnault, the chairman of the Foundation, suggests, these artworks are the emblems of our times, as are LV’s products.[4] So the point is that visitors know that LV is as good as art, and they worship the things passionately. (It’s good to understand LV’s passion for creation, though it’s even better to be passionate for the creation.)
Solitude of the Hong Kong Seven
The exhibition seems heated up by warm passion, and yet I was feeling a little burnt by the confusion. It seemed pointless to continue with this annoying ‘exploration of art’. Secretly, I prayed that the last section, ‘the Hong Kong Seven’, would be inspiring and that my local knowledge would save me from a feeling of total loss. Much to my relief, many of the works were thought-provoking and gave a fresh perspective for considering the Hong Kong experience. This ‘show within a show’ had nothing to do with LV’s passion; nor did it make any attempt to echo the great masters’ works and yet, unfortunately, it was linked to the previous section by the lack of curatorial direction. While the Foundation collection were blessed by the big brand and bathed in the glory of art, the ‘magnificent seven’ were left disoriented in a jungle of consumerism. How generous the Foundation was to present to visitors such a heart-warming gift – an independent section locating Hong Kong artists in the global context. But no interpretive text mentioned any interactions between Hong Kong art and the global context – the clever people must surely know this.
Museum v.s. high-end store
In the sweltering heat, and feeling dejected, I left the exhibition wondering if any difference could be found between a museum and a high-end store. This blockbuster exhibition suggested that both of these places encourage consumption in different forms: a shop sells luxury items, while the museum provides the experience of being an elitist. Both are equally exclusive: the former identifies customers by their wealth, and the latter only welcomes those who understand instinctively what the museum is showing.
I’m glad that the West Kowloon Project will be launching soon and we’ll have more privileged clubs of culture to allow people to pay for a vague sense of culture. Forget about education or community development, traditional roles of the museum. What we need is a fantasy of being cultured, without learning. Who cares about art and culture?
[1] Tang Hoi-chiu, ‘Foreword’, Louis Vuitton: A Passion for Creation (Hong Kong: The Leisure and Cultural Services Department, 2009) 5.
[2] ’Development of the Museum Definition according to ICOM Statutes (2007-1946)’, International Council of Museums (ICOM) http://icom.museum/hist_def_eng.html Accessed on 28 July 2009.
[3] Hervé Mikaeloff, ‘Preface’, Louis Vuitton: A Passion for Creation, 11.
[4] Bernard Arnault, ‘Foreword’ Louis Vuitton: A Passion for Creation, 31.