Art in European Space
by Mark Kremer
The Sculpture Quadrennial Riga 2004 addresses the relation of art and
politics. Which art exists, that reflects the political reality of a
national context, both in the recent past and at the present moment?
Historically, the meaning of public sculpture, such as national
monuments, was bound up with the triangle people-politics-art. With the
rise of sculpture of modern abstract signature, this meaning has become obsolete. Modern monuments no longer sit in a particular place and speak in a symbolic tongue about the meaning or use of that place (Rosalind Krauss). Instead the modern monument aspires after a universal significance. Thus, most of the inherent political connotations of the earlier public art were lost.
Hans van Houwelingen pursues an art that manifests itself in the public arena at large. What can art signify outside the museum context? What happens when it moves to the 'wild city zones', where it is at the mercy of the crowd? What happens when the art paradigm is confronted with other paradigms, such as religion or political ideology? These questions are central to his practice. He deliberately revivifies the political meaning of public sculpture. 'European Space', the thematics around which the SQR is constructed, connects well with his
practice, that is characterised by a strong interest in public sculpture
and its political significance.
Over the last few years Hans van Houwelingen made real historical monuments appear in unusual contexts, permanent or temporarily. These sculptures are treated in a subversive way, so as to inject them with meaning once more. Art historian Sjoukje van der Meulen defined Van Houwelingen's works of this kind as 'countermonuments'.
An example is Lenin (2000), a readymade Sovjet statue that was put in a historical English garden for the time of an outdoor exhibition. Lenin was surrounded by 40 tons of potatoes. Passers-by grabbed their dinner or mocked the man by throwing potatoes.
The Zuil van Lely (2002), is a permanent work in the centre of Lelystad. Here, Hans van Houwelingen proclaims the end of the modernism in Lelystad, the only utopian modernist city in Holland. An existing statue of Lely, which before was standing elsewhere in Lelystad - with both feet on the ground- is put on top of a classical column. The work pays homage to the engineer Cornelis Lely, thanks to whom the Dutch were able to win land from the sea. Meanwhile the classical column takes a completely incorrect dominating position: a reference to modernism's pretensions.
Participation in the SQR, which looks at the new European space
and investigates the relation of art and politics, implied a thorough
research on the subject. The Dutch Foundation for Art and Public Space
(SKOR) was clear in their conditions for participation; we need to answer what the SQR will mean for The Netherlands. Hans van Houwelingen studied on conditions and solutions. He concluded the following:
Although formally independent since 1918, Latvia did not enjoy what people in the West call freedom until about twelve years ago. Latvia's cultural transformation towards the Western model, especially in Riga, has been amazing considering the few years it has taken. On the other hand, the process has been marked by considerable clumsiness and opportunism. Latvia is utterly impoverished and its people look tired.
None of this, however, is evident in the capital, Riga, at least not among
young people. Their lifestyle is a carefree frolic with eyes turned
westwards. Fashionable clothing seems to be the main means of shaking off the old burden in exchange for a new zest. Tens of thousands of Latvians murdered in the Siberian labour camps seem unable to dent the solidarity among the younger generation (although no Latvian would dream of marrying a Russian or vice versa). The city, whose population is split equally between Latvians and Russians, at last seems eager to forget the misery of the past even if it has not yet really come to terms with it. There might be trouble ahead, but for now young people are optimistic and ambitious. They focus on earning the money they need to buy the lifestyle they aspire to. This opportunistic climate is tangible everywhere in Riga, as it is in the organisation of Sculpture Quadrennial 2004, entitled 'European Space'.
Riga lacks a well-developed institutional infrastructure for art,
let alone a commercial market for progressive art. The SQR is an effort
to reduce the city's cultural isolation. Its real goal is to bring the
artistic community of Riga up to date on international artistic developments. The curators have used the question of art and politics in a practical way: since Latvia is joining the EU, it is time for Latvian art
to link up with art in the EU!
In its current form, the SQR 'European Space' is a young but ambitious art exhibition that still has to prove itself internationally. As to the Dutch contribution, the Quadrennial is not likely to attract the usual 'fair representation of The Netherlands in an international art context' we have come to expect at Documenta in Kassel or at the Venice Biennale. However, the idea of The Netherlands representing itself abroad by winning recognition in the international art scene has degenerated into a cliché. The main motive for taking part in major international exhibitions is no longer the substance of the exhibited work, but participation in its own right. A change has taken place in which the priority of the unique artistic message has been downgraded in relation to the benefits of international participation. In other words, the artistic culture is gradually developing into a participation culture.
Don't we, for instance, turn a blind eye to the fact that the artistic concept of the Venice Biennale is becoming outmoded, because we'll all want to be there again in two years? Isn't it true that all large-scale art exhibitions owe their attraction to explicit self-overestimation, a presumption we are happy to share? Serious art criticism is becoming harder to reconcile with the static, dogmatic institutional infrastructure, whose artistic premisses nobody finds it necessary to probe. That we are willing to be part of it is not in doubt; and though we sometimes disagree about how we want to be part of it, that is a marginal issue.
In relation to Europe, this situation offers a surprising perspective. Europe, originally an economic alliance, is manifesting itself increasingly as a political and cultural entity. The question of how a large-scale art exposition contributes to European culture becomes a pressing one, because the cultural development of Europe has become an economic necessity. Roughly simultaneously with the admission of Latvia, the EU is experiencing the rise of the political notion that an economic union cannot function without some kind of cultural unity. Greater Europe is populated by nations with hugely diverse traditions. Mutual incomprehension among individual national cultures is a barrier to economic co-operation and may even make economic differences insoluble. Developing a European culture is necessary as an economic lubricant. 'While the EU-projects were (and are) ostensibly economic in nature, there is no point in talking about these economic projects until we get it clear what their cultural background is and what their cultural implications are' (Michael Zeeman). A platform where cultural differences can meet face to face and go in search of what they have in common, is lacking at a European level.
From this point of view, the Sculpture Quadrennial Riga is bound
to succeed. The city's political and economic history is itself enough to
ensure real commitment on the part of the art. You could even argue that, in this situation, art can regain its true, original significance - a
significance that many critics argue can only be falsely suggested in the
West. It is hard to imagine a better place for a serious Dutch cultural
implant than a country, which is moving from the malaise of Soviet
repression to membership of the EU.
Participation in the SQR is therefore worthwhile: both for the enjoyment of the Latvian public, and as a way of promoting a different and
perhaps new mentality among the Dutch art elite. Participation here does not mean just drifting on the waves of the international art establishment. It means taking an imperialistic cultural attitude. The question needs to be asked what one can do in foreign public space; what is relevant, and what is possible. To put it bluntly, it is not a matter of representing The Netherlands, but of meddlesomeness: the urge to launch Dutch art into European Space.
Pissing in Public: The Latvian Capital Riga is clearly not accepting any reminders of the poverty of the Communist years. Old people, in particular, bear visible marks of long deprivation and it must be only a question of time before even these traces of the past are erased. Slums have already been banished from the historic inner city. The centre has a fresh and prosperous look. Many derelict places, which hidden from view now serve as public toilets, are an anomaly in the clean, modern town and will soon have disappeared. My proposal is therefore to cultivate urination in Riga. This would involve a change from covert urination in shady corners to officially regulated pissing in public. Riga does admittedly have a few proper public toilets complete with lavatory ladies, but legally sanctioned urination in public view would be a cultural about-turn for this city. It accentuates a modern urban necessity: controllability. Riga is so preoccupied with its metamorphosis that there is as yet no sign of the marginal phenomena we associate with the decadent lifestyle of large Western cities. Everyone you see is neatly dressed and behaves impeccably. No lager louts, no protesting minorities or fringe groups, no artistic underground, no graffiti, no blobs of chewing gum on the pavement, no litter.
In Amsterdam, as in other Dutch cities, public urination is a socially accepted phenomenon. Since 1880, the streets and canal banks of Amsterdam have sported scroll-shaped screens called krullen ('curls'). These offer a minimal degree of privacy in which men can relieve themselves while reducing the public nuisance of its unregulated counterpart. Amsterdam has a long, proud tradition in which the krullen have proved their value as street furniture. Nowadays, too, the mobile
designer urinals deployed at times of peak demand are proving an effective remedy for unregulated urination. Pissing in public is a well-tested Dutch product that has reached noteworthy aesthetic heights. The artistic apogee of Amsterdam's urinary history was in 1925 when the sculptor Hildo Krop designed a splendid pissoir for placement on Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal, where it is still in use. The book Straatmeubilair Amsterdamse School 1911-1940 (Street Furniture of the Amsterdam School 1911-1940) notes: "Krop made a standing figure with clenched fists raised in the air. The open mouth makes it clear that the man is singing a militant anthem. Krop's socialist outlook on art and on society is expressed unmistakably by this small sculpture." The official City Sculptor Hildo Krop was known as an ardent supporter of communism. The ideals of communism as interpreted in The Netherlands of the 1920s are perfectly epitomized by this image of
the singing proletarian urinating in freedom. That is why the Dutch
proposal for the SQR is to have a copy made of Krop's urinal and place it permanently in Riga. There, the urinal would be an ambiguous evocation of the social histories of two entirely different countries that are now reaching out to one another within Europe. Latvia meets Holland in a urinal. What finer way could there be to celebrate freedom?
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