The Politics of Looking: Gazing at a Monster in the Abyss
‘Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you’. Not only does Nietzsche’s quote invoke a sense of self-reflection, but also of responsibility about the spectator’s gaze. Coincidentally, in S1 Artspace’s new exhibition Politique du Regard, the spectator intentionally emerges as an enigmatic figure, for although he is labelled an ignorant and passive consumer of images, there is no art without him. Through this paradox, Politique du Regard juxtaposes suspended moments of trauma and censorship to illustrate their consequences, thus exposing questions about the responsibilities of being a spectator.
The exhibition itself is well conceived and meticulously planned; through a variety of pieces from Francophone artists, Politique du Regard rather refreshingly offers a variety of artistic mediums (ranging from the audiovisual to the sculptural) to shrewdly provoke a multitude of the spectator’s delicate senses; a clever attribution when one considers the supposition that the spectator has become visually desensitized to the horrors of modern day society. The achromatic palette of the spacious S1 Artspace acts as a sanctuary for one’s senses, once they grow tired and weary from the absorption of such profound and at times, uncomfortable material. The colour scheme of S1 Artspace itself is not overwhelming, it merely allows the spectator to focus upon the exhibition rather than being distracted by overpowering and superfluous decoration. Furthermore, if one follows the provisioned path of the engaging audioguide, the exhibition can be divided astutely into thematic sections of trauma and censorship; deliberately building upon each other through lingering sentiment to reinforce the underlying meaning of Politique du Regard the responsibility of the spectator.
Firstly, Riboud’s achromous self portrait Congo 1961 immediately establishes a contextual point of reference for exhibition. The photograph confronts the spectator by subverting the conventions of normative photography through the overt subjection of the photographer, Riboud himself, in the reflection of a Congolese soldier’s sunglasses. Through this, the spectator is immediately coerced into contemplation about the physical and metaphorical position of the photographer, and thus, is implored to reflect on the contradiction between mere voyeurism and the responsibility of witnessing such sensitive situations.
Secondly, the first juxtaposition of artwork is portrayed one which powerfully exposes external and internal interpretations of trauma. Bourgeois’ behemothic bronze sculpture Crouching Spider 2003 is a conceptual ode to her protective, caring mother who was sadly taken away from her at a young age; whilst the minacious figures daubed in paint on newspaper in (Sans titre) 1955 linger hauntingly as a representation of the depths of Vuitton’s vulnerable psychological state. The photographs of scarcely healed wounds in Everyone (pieces #3, 8, and 14) 1994 by Ristelhueber however, act as an intelligent juxtaposition to the previous confessional art, through a shocking political allegory to civil war.
Whilst this concatenation of artists explores the representations of trauma, it also invokes the spectator to reflect upon the responsibilities of this role can one view such sensitive matters innocently? If these representations were occurring as a present reality, rather than a suspended consequence, would one not be compelled to be active in order to stop the suffering? In this sense, when these pieces are contrasted with Riboud’s Congo 1961, the spectator can see the before and the after. Somewhere amongst this liminality, one realises that the exhibition is not portraying ‘art’ for art’s sake, but rather ‘reality’ as a representation of actual people and actual situations in order to create an active spectator. Coincidentally, similar to Nietzsche’s book title, the spectator finds himself in a liminal position; somewhere Beyond Good And Evil.
The final section features Baudelaire’s [SIC] 2009 15 minute experimental SD video that shows a Japanese woman individually leaf through imported art and publications, delicately scratching ink off the surface of certain pages whilst Darzacq’s Bobigny Centre Ville 2004 contradicts stereotypical images of an unforgiving and dangerous banlieue through photographs of amiable looking youths in pleasant surroundings. Through this resolute exposure, one can shockingly see the act of censorship and its surprising effect; which thus, leads an active spectator to question the validity of public opinions, which are subtly manipulated by the ‘police order’, something which Rancière, whose quote acts as a final catharsis for the exhibition, explores believing that the passive spectator represents the betrayal of art’s political efficacy. Similarly, Politique du Regard seeks to develop a communal conscience about the responsibilities of being a spectator; with the ultimate aim of provoking activism.
As a whole, the spectator is not only visiting an exhibition about trauma and censorship, he is also witnessing the artistic interpretation of their visual, audio and spatial consequences to the extent where his reality becomes intrinsically entwined with the confessional, social or political reality of the pieces. Through this, the exhibition deliberately transforms the spectator into a vehicle of prolonged political mobilisation rather than a mere being of fugacious and inconsequential capriciousness.
Nietzsche seeks to find a place Beyond Good and Evil, claiming that a morality has developed in which actions are judged by their motivations, not their consequences. In this sense, Politique du Regard examines the role of the passive spectator who willingly views suspended moments in art, but does not act upon their consequences in reality. Nietzsche warns he who ‘fights monsters’ to not become one in the process but, through mere passive consumption during the exhibition, does the spectator unintentionally find himself as guilty as those responsible for the consequences of which he is viewing? To this extent, Politique du Regard not only seeks to expose the potential transient insouciance of the spectator, but also to reflect upon his responsibilities in this role and thus, provide an impetus for his activism; transforming the position of the spectator where he is not only viewing art, but engaging with its consequences and reality.
