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Truth is not beauty. Beauty is not love.
FRANK ZAPPA
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On 20 february 2006 Danny Devos aka DDV (1959, Vilvoorde) started digging a hole at a secret location in Antwerp, Belgium. The proceedings of the work - performance and installation at the same time - can only be witnessed through a webcam.
On the images of this webcam one can see a low, rather claustrophobic basement space, 180cm below street level according to DDV, where the artist is digging a hole of about 130 x 130cm. The action comes across as explicitly suspicious. This is first of all due to the context of DDV's oeuvre, which is in part the reflection of an interest in violence and crime, especially murder and (serial) killers. The digging of a hole at a secret location immediately becomes a 'cover-up', the action of someone who has something to hide. A body? The hole doesn't have the size of a grave. A body cut to pieces? Neither, it's not that kind of hole. After all DDV continues digging, so deep that he needs to prop the sides of the hole with wooden planks to prevent it from caving in. The construction starts to look like a vertical tunnel, something that gives the impression of leading somewhere. This is definitely not just one of the works where DDV reconstructs the 'crime scene' of a murder or some other gruesome fact, in this case that seems to assume too much of a 'finality', and the hole appears to us only a means to something else. A non-specified purpose, by which the artist tries to glue a 'community' on the internet to the webcam image. DDV links the somewhat conspiratorial view on the hole to short, guerilla-like interventions, actions that add to the complexity and the speculative aspect of his project. For instance the artists claims that it is very difficult to get rid (in such a way of course that it doesn't disclose the location of the hole) of the earth that's been dug up from the hole. This led to the action '13 Galleries and only One DDV in town' (the title is a persiflage to the popsong 'Thirteen women and only one man in town' by rockabilly musician Danny Gatton). On thursday 16 march 2006, an evening on which the Antwerp Art Galleries had private views of their exhibitions, DDV inconspiciously dumped earth at various galleries and other venues in the 'art district' of Antwerp South. The earth was packed in plastic bags from the Aldi supermarket (because they also sell art). The fact that he doesn't know what to do with the earth from the hole also inspired him to making a new version of the song 'It's not the bullet that kills you, it's the hole' by Laurie Anderson. Anderson wrote that song on the occasion of the famous performance of Chris Burden (a pioneer in the rather extreme regions of body art) where he had himself shot in the arm. In DDV's version this becomes 'It's not the diggin' that burdens, it's the dirt'. For the artist this is an intervention that fits the tradition of 'mash-ups' or Bastard Pop in which, in its purest form, the instrumental music of one song is mixed with the vocal of an other. Thereby the new composition has a much more encompassing content than just the sum of the content of the parts it is made of. Such a strategy is essential in the démarches of DDV's 'diggin' piece', so essential that the artist declares that this is the first, conceived as such, example of Bastard Art. Well then, which other artworks are contained in this piece, called 'Diggin' for Gordon'? And why exactly those works, what's 'the bigger picture' here?
DDV doesn't really makes this a mystery. In regular contributions to the discussion list and messageboard next to the webcam-output on the 'Diggin' for Gordon' webpages he clearly elucidates to what his action refers. 'Gordon' from the title 'Diggin' for Gordon' is the artist Gordon Matta-Clark (1943-1978). A year before his early death he dug a number of steps of a stairwell in the floor of the basement of Yvon Lambert Gallery in Paris, France, and called it 'Descending Steps for Batan'. This artpiece (DDV calls it a ritualistic performance-installation) fitted well in his fascination for (the methodology of) archaeology, to which he also related in earlier works, but in the first place it is dedicated to his twin brother Sebastian (Batan), who committed suicide by jumping out of the window in Gordon's studio in New York. 'Descending Steps for Batan' was at the same time a monument and an anti-monument. More of an action than a remaining point of remembrance, with a definitive downward direction, instead of the common use of placing monuments above the ground. The choice of DDV for Gordon Matta-Clark has however still another reason, related to the recent Antwerp and Belgian art history. Gordon Matta-Clark is a myth in Antwerp, in view also of some other artists showing their work in Antwerp. As much as in the exhibition 'Jugendstil' by the American Cory McCorkle at objectif_exhibitions in 2004 as in the installation 'The Passing of a Perfect Day (for GM-C)', to be seen in Koraalberg Art Gallery in 2005, by Belgian artist Katleen Vermeir, relate to the legendary passage of Matta-Clark in the late 1970's in the Antwerp art world. In 1977 Matta-Clark realised one of his largest works 'Office Baroque' in Antwerp. He made monumental cuttings in an office building, a series of disfunctional enfilades "to convert a place in a state of mind". Such an intervention by such an artist fits well in the momentum that visual art in Antwerp was living through at that time, mainly by the activities of the I.C.C.; a momentum that was however not perpetuated. At that time Antwerp really had an international art platform, and 'Office Baroque' was one of the highlights, but even more a terminal point. When Matta-Clark died in 1978, 'Office Baroque' is the only work of architectural proportion that still exists, everything else was demolished during his lifetime. The importance of this work was thus not underestimated and was also acknowledged, albeit mostly by other artists. A foundation that acclaimed for preservation, as a nucleus for a non-existent Antwerp museum for contemporary art, was called into life. Instead it was pulled down, and exactly ten years later the MuHKA (Museum for Contemporary Art Antwerp) opened its doors, in an old corn warehouse on the Antwerp South. The museum promptly indulges in its own lateness by organizing a retrospective of Gordon Matta-Clark as the opening exhibition. A momentum missed, an artwork pulled down, a myth born and eventually a ghost awakened. Cruel irony, institutional failure, myth (and the vain search for archaeological remains of it) and a true but from sheer necessity upside-down monument, seem to be some aspects of 'Diggin' for Gordon'. But DDV doesn't stop there.
By the way, when 'Office Baroque' was torn down, did they also fill up the basements? Or are they still there, under a new construction? It wouldn't be the first time DDV unlawfully enters this building. In 1978 he broke in the first time, accompanied by his partner-in-crime Walter Van Rooy who then ran Ruimte Z, where DDV had his first exhibition at the time.
Under the mottos "Dan, what's your flavour?" and especially "Dan Flavin is Descending Steps for Gordon into Hell", DDV enlightens his obscure activity with a row of slant placed fluorescent lights. He writes that this is a reference to 'Icon IV' (1962), the first work in which Flavin used the lamps which would become his trademark. Remarkable is that this work is also dedicated to a deceased twin brother, David Flavin, who was killed in an accident at a construction site. 'Icon IV' was not only a turning point in the oeuvre of Dan Flavin, it was one of the works that introduced Minimal Art. The line of florescent lights that DDV installed becomes longer in as much as the hole becomes deeper, it literally descends. In spite of the icon, which is supposed to elevate. DDV doubles, or triples (for Gordon, for Batan, for David), his downward spiral of death. And denial. Denial and rejection of institutional and commercial (cf. supra, the gallery-performance on 16 march 2006) recuperation. DDV has stated already years ago that he will not produce 'permanent' artworks anymore, and ever since his works consists of performances, very temporary events, gadgets whose artistic content is only to be found in their use or association, and probably most in the form of an interpreted report on the internet of what he does, about people he encounters and places he visits. The contrary direction he follows however never manifested itself as explicit as in 'Diggin' for Gordon'. He almost literally illustrates that he is not an artist reaching to the zenit, but who gauges the nadir, the point perpendicular below the observer. And why is he doing that right now? Is he directing us towards a comparison between the artcontext nowadays and the moment when 'Office Baroque' was torn down? Are we once again confronted with the ruins of a momentum which at the same time is still happening? Anyway, it is just only by this opposite direction that DDV welcomes us to such a Hotel Palenque... The Belgian art scene as a Smithsonian 'ruin-in-reverse'.
If there would be talk of a momentum ('in reverse' or otherwise) in Belgian art, it would be definitely thanks to Jan Fabre (1958, Antwerp) among others. We know that and Jan Fabre even knows that more himself. And he does it, with 'Homo Faber', a triple exhibition which opened in may 2006 in the Royal Museum of Fine Arts, the Museum for Contemporary Art and the Town Library. In many ways Fabre is the strategic antipole of DDV, and the radical contrary position of both artists is at its sharpest at the moment. With 'Diggin' for Gordon', DDV probably will not even be mentioned in the encyclopedic part of this book, while the same publication simply couldn't do without Fabre. And yet both artists are on the extremes of a likely situation, with in the end both the same value of real significance. In contrast to DDV, Fabre is a 'zenit artist', someone who reaches out. That doesn't have anything to do with a different theme (death is anyway one of the most prominent themes with Fabre), or with some kind of optimism. In Fabre's work man is a fountain of blood, piss, sweat, shit, tears and sperm, but a fountain that nevertheless jets upright. Fabres monuments are radically above the ground and don't shine off in the futile attempt to measure the clouds or conduct the sea. The section of 'Homo Faber' (homo fabere, 'acting' man) in the Museum of Fine Arts is the most relevant in relation to the position Fabre wants to take. Fabre says "I show an alternative world view that reconnects anew with the Middle Ages. Now there is too much Renaissance in our lives. That was the age of exploration and conquest. We launch a rocket to Mars and change ourselves by means of technical protheses. Now and then I look back to our ancestors and notice good things, the idea of the memento mori, the allegories, the continuous fight between the angel and the devil. Those themes return in my art. As such I also create a route which carries the refuse of cynism. None of my works is caught in that trap, they are always a refuse of cynism. They testify of my search for beauty." Fabre tells us a lot here, and also illustrates this very efficient in one of the most remarkable exhibitions that Antwerp has seen in the past years. We don't just see an exhibition of artworks by Fabre, he exhibits his work in a direct relation to the work of the old masters in the permanent collection of the museum. In spite of a certain kind of 'overdrive', the exhibition doesn't have the pretention one might expect. Fabre obviously didn't conceive the presentation as an assessment or as a confrontation of his work and that of his predecessors which he respects or admires. He has staged this part of 'Homo Faber as a kind of homecoming, wherein the emphasis indirect but no less evident lies upon the freshness and the actual relevance of the old art, within a more encapsuling rhetorism of the beauty that Fabre installs in the museum. Sometimes Fabre only unveils thematic relations, another time it is about colour, texture and differentiation of fabrics, but in the most succesful combinations it is about a mix of various aspects whereby he puts the emphasis on the radical, almost violent artistic position the artworks represent. As we already know for a long time, Fabre is very serious as a warrior of beauty, and the exhibition confirms the above cited statement. As long as Fabre goes into a dialogue with paintings that are rather part of a late-medieval mental world instead of a renaissancistic one, the ensembles are a lot more tight and speculative. In the Rubens room Fabre and the baroque master stand completely one next to the other and only in a sideroom with 19th century symbolist sculptures Fabre finds a connection anew with artists from the past. This is no coincidence, symbolism is an art form where one can see a re-appreciation for medieval values, for an allegoric approach and for a kind of spirituality that holds little account for the Age of Reason. Obscurantism as a kind of obstinate consciousness; it remains a daring exploit but with Fabre it works.
There is no real inconsequence in Fabre's oeuvre, and there is no gap between what he says and what he does. However, that doesn't mean his art isn't part of a paradoxical position. One of the paradoxes in the work of Fabre is actually put forward more to the point, just because he now clearly maintains that he doesn't feel at ease within art since the Renaissance, because according to him that era holds the seed of cynism. This historical perspective (of a what slightly megalomane proportion) is a widening of earlier declarations by the artists that he has nothing to do with the analytic view of modernism and the taciturn strategies of postmodernism. We like to believe this, and we can acknowledge it, but then how come that Fabre doesn't seem to get loose from his fascination for Marcel Duchamp? Possibly one can make a distinction between irony and cynism, but who will tell whether Duchamp was ironic rather than cynical? Apart from that, Fabre doesn't make any statements about that, unlike that other anti-cynic, Joseph Beuys, clearly did ("The silence of Duchamp is overrated."). The ghost of Duchamp especially wanders in the part of 'Homo Faber' in the MuHKA, that relates to the basis of Fabres oeuvre. It shows an image of Fabre in which there is room for some relativity and humour (irony?), and therein the many references to Duchamp seem to find a natural habitat. But also in the more recent and more serious works chocolate grinders (for bachelors who make their own chocolate), stripped brides, urinals, salt vendors (le Marchand du Sel...) and onanistic patterns of thought are popping up. Once in a while this results in a ludicrous ending, but it doesn't really clash. Duchamp, the tonge-in-cheek in person, as significancemachine that takes part in a late-medieval, supercooled pathos, that in other words has more to do with the stripped but throning Madonna of Jean Foucquet than with the enlightened irony and the cynical cleverness of the art from the second half of the 20th century. In Fabre's oeuvre one can certainly find strong arguments for that.
It is completely coincidential that Fabre and DDV make - in our humble opinion - important démarches in Antwerp at the same time, and the undertaking to relate them to each other is quite debatable, probably has little to do with the artists' intentions and relies upon personal perspective. However, in this extreme minimal fragment of the art context a total inversion seems to come forward. With Fabre in the zenit and DDV in the nadir, both are present for a moment in Antwerp with work in which they extensively quote other artists. Fabre postulates that late-medieval painting is more pertinent and radical than body art in the 1960's and appreciates Duchamp because of the rather obscurantist form of significancemaking which indeed is present in some parts of his work. The anti-cynic, the true defender of beauty, puts about the complete museal institutional potential of Antwerp in the scale. Fabre unleashed, in what is almost a reinterpretation of art history. Also DDV walks off the path of what is written in art history (and even more he also walks off of what can be observed as art history, but that's perhaps another story), by emphasizing one of the first artworks of Minimal Art (the nec plus ultra of modernism) in the much less disengaged function of an action in memory of a deceased brother. And apart from that he also needed light in the basement. DDV doesn't eschew cynism, and he unmasks the art institute as late and the result of a series of missed opportunities. With 'Diggin' for Gordon' he not only positions himself outside of the institute, he also eliminates any possibility of late institutional recuperation. DDV only has to push the button to send 'Diggin' for Gordon' to the digital eternal fields. Fabre does want physical confrontation, but in the end Fabre is just too much, too much to store, too much to recuperate. Fabre keeps (sometimes very literally, complete with foul smell) dragging cadavers to the institute, DDV keeps digging deeper, by lack of any form of mortal remains to bury. We are somewhere inbetween DDV's nadir and Fabre's zenit, and it keeps quiet there. Sometimes DDV's server is taken out of the air - by accident - by the Computer Crime Unit, by police order an object is removed from an installation by Fabre once in a while, but nor nadir nor zenit are really contemplated. Due to absence of this perspective there is only the city, no longer as a stage, but as a character, a body that gives in to real transgression.
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Gerrit Vermeiren
Oostende, june 2006
Translation by DDV
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