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LV ENG Archive Magazine Pdf 2017 My Hunt for Relics and the People I Met along the Way 2016 Alise Tīfentāle The 51st Venice Biennale: a difficult task, a mental exercise on an almost superhuman scale, a cabalistic Search 2015 stimulus to discover and establish my own position not just in relation to art, but to the world as a whole. 2014 For a person to take a delight in everything is undignified. To reject everything is even more undignified, 2013 since it's ultimately a rejection of oneself. The search for one's own kind is a search for oneself - not 2012 always a simple or enjoyable quest. To discover strangers, to finally perceive what it is that separates us, and why. Mediocrities and misunderstandings constitute an absolutely essential basis and background. 2011 My own kind: these are the ones who say what I wish to hear. Exaltation, slightly grotesque, pseudo- 2010 religious catharsis or a condition resembling it, something "larger than life" - this is precisely how I've 2009 always imagined the experience of art. It does not include wearying attempts to decipher some complex 2008 individual's private cuneiform or mountains of didactic A4 pages, behind which one may get a glimpse of a feeble video. This constitutes the background. And then there are the strangers. Those saying things I'd 2007 perhaps like to hear, but cannot comprehend. Amid flourishing globalisation and cosmopolitanism, one 2006 senses ever more forcefully the emptiness of the "cultural interaction" concept. Though we hold joint 2005 exhibitions and even partly inhabit the same cultural space, we'll never come to a mutual understanding No.6 (45) unless our worlds come into contact at the basic, root, historical level that gives rise to common jokes, stories, systems of reference and common intentions. Possibly, this exhibition became such a No.5 (44) complicated personal task because there was a great deal of personally-oriented art, with intimate No.4 (43) experiences, inner dialogues and bodily sensations translated into the language of art. Almost every work Portrait demands that I engage with it and at the same time with myself. Of course, there's no avoiding social and Event political antics at any Biennale, but there is an impression that, this time, art has approached me in order Classics to get acquainted, chat about the meaning of life and have a good time, instead of me meeting up with art in order attend a party congress or a gathering of cultural terrorists. Most valuable at this exhibition No.3 (42) seemed to be the human factor: after all, contemporary art, too, may be appropriate for comprehension, No.2 (41) perception and utilisation, just like, for instance, good architecture or good food. One might say that such No.1 (40) art is childish, playful, old-fashioned or sentimental, but equally one may say that it serves to awaken that 2004 part of the soul of every individual which, ever since Adam, has been longing for religion, ritual and exaltation. 2003 2002 2001 One's own kind among strangers 2000 These are my own kind. The ones I can call soulmates. Some of them are angry, marginal figures who've 1999 been cast out of society or who've voluntarily left it; some are sentimental, seeking all the faults and/or 1998 the happiness of the world within themselves; still others are lonely, loving, mourning or sometimes 1997 boozing, somewhat monstrous and superficial, naïve and witty, all at the same time, in that old-fashioned Subscribe way. Something urges me to take another look at them and hold my breath: I'm seeing something more beautiful and larger than what I could have imagined. On my return from the exhibition, I felt for a moment like a medieval traveller relating the wonders seen along the way and vividly describing the exotic beings - as in the notes that make up Umberto Eco's novel "Bodolino". My travel notes would make repeated mention of the images created by Leigh Bowery (seen at the Arsenale in the exhibition "Always a Little Further", curated by Rosa Martínez). Bowery, who was born in Australia in 1961 and died in London in 1994, is a phenomenon: an incarnation of reckless, creative freedom, an artist of the body, of dress and movement, himself a work of art. A star of London's clubs from the early 80s, a fetishist obsessed with the cult of costume, certainly not a "normal artist", someone for whom image and dress represented the meaning of life, who needed dressing up and role-playing like air to breathe, and moreover not with the intention of "looking better", but rather with the idea: "What could I do next?" This is not a case of an exotic or pitiful transvestite or an unusual ragman. Rather, Bowery's art lay in his ability to use his body and his unlimited imagination in order to generate surprising visual images, of a kind that might fit some unrealised carnival "Star Wars" world. Colourful, perverse, joyful and beautiful beyond the bounds of reason, such are these images recorded in photographs and in a few videos of Bowery's performances in London clubs. Moreover, collaboration with Nick Knight, Annie Leibovitz and other influential photographers guaranteed Bowery greater attention and saved him from the oblivion of the underground. The dress, photographs and performances shifted from the clubs to the art galleries, and he modelled for painter Lucian Freud (an exhibition of whose works is also being shown this summer in Venice). Bowery was no supermodel with an indifferently attractive body; he used the forms of his body in his favour, turning the "dressing up" characteristic of club nightlife into a form of art, so that his works might provide material for a whole handbook of aesthetics, elegance, sexuality and associational role-playing. In contrast to Vivienne Westwood, for example, who built a lucrative business on the remains of punk subculture, Bowery worked only with and for himself, and his heritage will never be available in a "prêt-à- porter" version. Perhaps this is why his mad fantasy is being shown at an art exhibition now, more than a decade after his death. This is art for people who are almost insanely free, a festival of unlimited and uninhibited imagination, even retaining indecently sweet aesthetic qualities and astounding the viewer with its "nothing is impossible" attitude. Bowery may be found on the internet, too, at www.leighbowery.com. Created in an 18th century Baroque oratory (a small room with an altar, intended for playing and enjoying religious music) was the Argentine exhibition: the performance/installation "The Ascension", by artist Jorge Macchi and musician Edgardo Rudnitzky. Even before viewing the exhibition, all the circumstances - the venue, part of a religious building, and the title, derived from the Catholic calendar - indicated that there would be some connection with Christian dogma, Argentina being a country with a strong Catholic tradition. The exhibition was in fact one of the most powerful experiences of this Biennale. The oratory ceiling has a fresco depicting the Virgin Mary ascending to heaven in the company of angels, in the finest Baroque traditions and enclosed within a Baroque frame. The artists have placed a trampoline directly beneath the fresco, precisely reflecting the form and size of the ceiling piece. In the course of the performance (or "intervention", as the artists prefer to call their work), two musical instruments are played: a work by Rudnitzky is recited on a viola da gamba, with an acrobat on the trampoline providing the rhythmic accompaniment: the creaking of the springs and the beating of his feet against the elastic surface. The sounds created by the acrobat are organically integrated into the music as an element of the composition and the ritual as a whole, which presents absolute perfection, a closed circle. It incorporates a multitude of paradoxes, the discovery of which, even without pretending to define them, is a source of enjoyment to a detective of art. Trampoline jumping as an ascent to heaven? Is this blasphemy? In a Catholic country, faith and ritual are no doubt rooted deeply enough in everyday life for the use of these as material for art not to appear as a transgression or crime against faith, whether or not you're a practicing Catholic. Another aspect: the fresco is called "The Assumption of Mary", as is customary within the Catholic tradition, while the work is entitled "The Ascension", and there lies another paradox created by the authors. In accordance with Catholic dogma, Christ himself climbed to heaven as a man and as the Son of God, while Mary was taken up to heaven in accordance with the will of God, rather than her own will, a privilege that distinguishes the Mother of God among all other mortals (who may enter heaven only after the Last Judgement). The trampoline serves as a visual aid, revealing Man's wish, born of his pride, to "climb to heaven" by himself, and at the same time his inability to do so, since gravity draws him back to earth, only to kick off for another futile jump. Movement, sound, rhythm, the room with its original function and fresco, as well as the broad context of the work's content, together make "The Ascension", to my mind at least, one of the most powerful works of this Biennale. Its outward lightness and simplicity disguise an existential significance of a kind that may be ignored if the particular viewer so wishes. Here lies the difference between this work and the countless documentary videos that seek a cheap effect, just like those annoyingly-repeated scenes of refugee life, shanty towns, etc., that we see in the news.