Charlie Chaplin: Icon Behind the Wall

Chaplin_Kid_Auto_Races

This screenshot shows Charlie Chaplin in his most famous persona of “the tramp” in the 1914 film, Kid Auto Races at Venice. At this time, Chaplin was 25 years old and then was his second film. His fame and iconic look–baggy pants and bowler hat–spread quickly. Not only did they spread fast and quickly, but he endures as an avant-garde icon in parts of the world far from Hollywood.

Chaplin_graffiti_Tiblisi

My friend took this picture on the street in Tiblisi, Georgia two months ago–100 years after Kid Auto Races. To be familiar with Chaplin today is hardly surprising. But Chaplin has a life as an avant-garde symbol dating from his first film. Despite two World Wars followed by a Cold War, Chaplin infiltrated deep into Russia and Eastern Europe, becoming an avant-garde icon even as access to films was limited and sporadic. Chaplin comes up surprisingly often in avant-garde journals, designs, and collages–adding an often-lacking bathos and humor.

Barbara Stepanova, Kino Foto, 1922

Barbara Stepanova, Kino Foto, 1922 (Russia)

Evzen Markalous_Laughter_1926

Evzen Markalous, Laughter, 1926 (Czechoslovakia)

M. Berman, Charlie III, 1928 (Poland)

M. Berman, Charlie III, 1928 (Poland)

 

 

 

Mladen Stilinovic Opening at eflux

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Installation shot of Autocensorship from “Mladen Stilinović: Zero for Conduct; A retrospective,” 2013

I loved seeing that eflux in NYC has an exhibition opening of the Croatian avant-garde artist this Friday, because his retrospective at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Zagreb was a fantastic show. I wrote about the retrospective here, and specifically about the artist’s books on view here.

Image from Artist at Work, 1977

Image from Artist at Work, 1977

Artists are stereotypical bohemians who create when inspired, rather than being industrious citizens, and the photograph above is from his seminal series The Artist At Work, which shows Stilinovic sleeping and lounging in bed. This is not an unpoliticized act, or mere commentary on such stereotypes, as Stilinovic suggests in his text “In Praise of Laziness.”

An Artist Who Cannot Speak English, 1994

An Artist Who Cannot Speak English Is No Artist, 1994

The eflux exhibition is up through May 31, but at the opening this Friday the artist will be in conversation with Ana Janevski and Dan Byers. Based on his witty, ironic written texts, such as materialized in the more recent work above, I imagine it will be an interesting conversation if you are in New York.

Georgia Museum of Art Symposium on Art and Diplomacy

LW_statue_inPavilion

On March 28 and 29, the Georgia Museum of Art is hosting a symposium entitled “While Silent, They Speak: Art and Diplomacy,” in conjunction with the current exhibition “Art Interrupted: Advancing American Art and the Politics of Cultural Diplomacy.” I will be giving a talk on the artwork above, Hungarian artistic duo Little Warsaw’s The Body of Nefertiti. András Gálik and Bálint Havas, the two artists of Little Warsaw, were some of the first people I interviewed for my Fulbright project when I lived in Budapest last year, and it’s been a pleasure to come back to this work of theirs, which is also the subject of a longer essay to be published in the summer. If you’re  in the Athens area, it looks like a truly interesting batch of papers beginning at 8:30 am on March 29 (and I’m in the 10:30 session). More about mine, below:

Nefertiti teste / The Body of Nefertiti

“I agreed with Foreign Minister Ahmed Maher that we establish contact at the highest levels with Germany, and lodge a protest against this unethical and ill-considered insanity.” – Faruq Hosni, Egyptian Minister of Culture

Perhaps surprisingly, the Egyptian Minister of Culture was reacting to a statue. At the Hungarian Pavilion of the 2003 Venice Biennale, artistic collaborators Little Warsaw presented viewers with a lone sculpture of a female body with its arms hanging by its sides and a deep rectangular excision of the space where a head might appear. Little Warsaw were not able to realize their original conception of joining the head of Nefertiti, the iconic ancient Egyptian bust, with their contemporary bronze within the Pavilion. However, their sculpture was temporarily joined to the head of Nefertiti in the Egyptian Museum in Berlin. Through the statue and documentation of this process, the artists performed a conceptual ‘reunification’ at the Pavilion.

As the quote suggests, the project struck a nerve within Egyptian-German relations on the issue of cultural restitution. If the national pavilions are (ideally) considered a forum of international dialogue and soft diplomacy, then Little Warsaw’s project is a failure. It exposed the historic Western colonialization of an ‘exotic’ Egyptian past and, in an added dynamic, the agents of this exposure were Eastern Europeans from the margins of Europe. This project, through the vehicle of a national pavilion, exposed tensions along geopolitical borders that can also be traced in a broader cultural sense—in which Egyptian (and Hungarian) art historical narratives are subsumed into a dominant Western model. I suggest that in the case of The Body of Nefertiti, with its goal of revealing implicit issues around cultural ownership and lingering cultural imperialism, art becomes not a tool of diplomacy, but a smoking gun.