Art, context, critique, and institution

There are many concepts that attempt to account for the changes and peculiarities of artistic practices oriented to specific contexts nowadays. Site-specific, site-determined, site-related, and site-oriented are just some of the terms that seek to conceptualize works that have context – a place or situation for which they are conceived - as a starting point for their design and developing in response and in dialogue with it. Such practices date back to the historical vanguards, in particular to Russian Constructivism and Dadaism. But from 1960 they have gained strength, with proposals associated with Minimalism, Land Art and so-called institutional critique.

In her well-known genealogy of site-specific practices, art historian Miwon Kwon points out the existence of three paradigms: phenomenological, social/ institutional and discursive. The classification takes into account the operative site definition for each point, i.e., the approach to the context/ place/ situation carried out by different practices, which she said has transformed itself from a "physical location - grounded, fixed, actual, to a discursive vector - ungrounded, fluid, virtual."1 While dealing with the concept from different perspectives, the author identifies the criticality in relation to the context as a fundamental aspect in the development of this type of practice during the second half of the 20th century. In Brazil, we can mention, for example, the work, Situações, by Artur Barrio, which used elements such as “bloody bundles” scattered through the streets of Belo Horizonte in 1970 on the occasion of the exhibition Do corpo à terra, in reference to the violence of the military dictatorship.

Action approaches the discursive paradigm described by Kwon, when artists broaden the interests that constitute the site beyond its physical and spatial aspects - which characterizes the phenomenological paradigm, linked to Minimalism and Land Art - as well as beyond "a cultural framework defined by the institutions of art"2 - which characterizes the social/ institutional paradigm, linked to institutional critique. In seeking a more direct integration of art in the social sphere, the practices related to the third paradigm, thus, would establish a critique of culture focused not only to the art system’s intrinsic issues, but the problems of other fields of life and knowledge, that would eventually encompass varied performance spaces such as schools, streets, and supermarkets, as well as various disciplines such as anthropology, psychology, architecture, and political theory, among others.

In addition to this expansion of contexts, places, situations and problems, the main feature of site-specific or site-oriented art today would be, according to Kwon, the discursive character of the site, i.e., the fact that it constitutes a field of knowledge, intellectual exchange, or cultural debate. As the artist Jorge Menna Barreto adds, it is the identification of the context/ place/ situation /problem as an active element and not just as support for the work, which would define a working method, "which begins with 'listening' to a place and the subsequent intervention", "very different from practice in a studio, which first thinks about the work and then installs it in a place."3

Considering these approaches, the recent institutionalization of site-specific practices, especially from the late 1990s and early 2000s, when they begin to constitute institutional programs, may be seen as one of the presentations of which critic and curator Simon Sheikh points out as the "third moment of institutional critique."4 In this context, it is worth noting programs such as the Unilever Series, Tate Modern of London, a series of works created for the so-called, Turbine Hall;5 the Moderna Museet Projekt, held at the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, in which artists designed works based on different aspects of the museum, even though the creations were not always presented within the institution;6 and the artistic program developed by Museo Experimental El Eco in Mexico City, all of it geared to the architectural and historical specificities of the place.7

The institution as a space for creation

Simon Sheikh identifies two historical moments of institutional critique called: a first wave between the late 1960s and early 1970s, in which the critical method would be configured as an artistic practice and the institution in question would be art institutions; and a second historical wave in the 1980s, in which critique would focus not only on art institutions, but also other institutional spaces and practices beyond the scope of art. In both moments, institutional critique constituted a practice mainly undertaken by artists and directed against the institutions, "as a critique of their ideological and representative social functions."8 For the author, such a feature would contrast with current discussions and practices around the idea of institutional critique, which is developed predominantly by curators and directors of institutions, arguing more in favor of than against institutions. In other words, these reflections and initiatives "are not an effort to oppose or even destroy the institution, but rather to modify and solidify it. The institution is not only a problem, but also a solution!".9

It is in this sense that curatorial programs like those mentioned above reflect an effort to make the institution not only a space for art presentation - and conservation in the case of museums - but a space of creation, bringing the artists, their interests, issues and work processes close to the institutional context and inviting them to reflect and produce from it, which could potentially raise questions about the dynamics and workings of the institution and its relationship with artists, artworks, and public.

The creation of curatorial programs devoted to site-specific is also observed in Brazilian institutions, such as the Pinacoteca de Sao Paulo with its Octógono Arte Contemporânea Project, created in 2003, and Centro Cultural São Paulo (CCSP) with its Guest Artists Program, in 2008 and 2009. Conceived by curator Ivo Mesquita, the Octógono Project commissions site-specific works for the central area of the museum, a hall in an octagon shape. In a Brazilian art museum with an encyclopedic character, covering the colonial period to the present day, this is the main program and space focused on contemporary production within the institution. In the words of the curator, the idea of the project is to establish "a look at the history of art from contemporary experience," affirming the commitment of the museum "with the contemporary eye to inquire its own collection, role, and place."10 Since the establishment of the program, about forty projects have been developed, by artists such as Cildo Meireles, José Bechara, Joana Vasconcelos, José Patrício, Regina Silveira, Rubens Mano, Artur Lescher, and Suzanne Lafont.

The program developed by CCSP invited seven artists to develop site-specific projects for the institution between 2008 and 2009, responding to specificities regarding the history of the space, its surroundings, architecture, public programming, activities, collections and services. Curated by Carla Zaccagnini and Fernanda Albuquerque, the project featured the work of artists Fernando Limberger, Marcelo Cidade, Jarbas Lopes, João Loureiro, Rochelle Costi, Daniel Senise, and Ricardo Basbaum. For Zaccagnini, creator of the program, the proposal was "to investigate the place and shed light on some underappreciated potential, like graphics, woodworking, archives, and collections, based on the eye and interests of artists." Moreover, "there was a desire to bring other ways of working to the CCSP that could lead to rethinking solidified mechanisms within the institution."11

Regarding the possibilities of context-oriented practices articulate a critical reflection on the place for which they are designed when developed in institutional frameworks, it is argued that the adoption of such practices by institutions reveals a desire to incorporate a sort of signifier of criticality and progressivity,12 or then an absolutely controlled and innocuous critique.13 On the other hand, some believe that such practices may, in fact, create a space for reflection within the institution, bringing it closer to art making and reasoning in an attempt to "learn from art and artists" in order to discuss and possibly transform institutional practices.14

Between one position and the other, it may be possible to consider the existence of different modes of criticality in artistic and curatorial practices today. Among them, a "complicit criticality" as proposed by the curator Victoria Preston (2013),15 in which institutions seek to represent themselves as critical and self-reflective when commissioning projects examining the institution’s history, spaces, programs, and processes - which does not remove its real interest in these investigations and findings. In these projects, a certain complicity between the artist and the institution would be contained in the agreement between both, which makes many works able to demonstrate, at the same time, skepticism and enthusiasm, critique and affirmation.

* Essay originally published at the first edition of PLATFORM, a Brazilian art publication to be published once a year in partnership between seLecT magazine and Latitude. The first number was launched in May 2014.
** Verde e Amarelo, Fernando Limberger, 2008. Centro Cultural São Paulo, São Paulo.

Notes:

1 KWON, Miwon. Um lugar após o outro. In: Revista do Programa de Pós- 
Graduação em Artes Visuais, ano XV, n. 17, p. 167-187. Rio de Janeiro: EBA/UFRJ, 2008.
2  Idem, p. 168. 
3 BARRETO, Jorge Menna. Lugares moles. Thesis developed at ECA-USP, São Paulo, 2007, p. 10. 
4 SHEIKH, Simon. Notas sobre la crítica institucional. Available at
http://eipcp.net/transversal/0106/sheikh/es/#_ftn1.
5 Established in 2000, every year the project commissions works especially for the Turbine Hall, a space which is a sort of museum entrance hall, with about half of its volume. Artists such as Louise Bourgeois and Bruce Nauman have participated in the program. http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/exhibitionseries/unilever-series.
6 Completed between 1998 and 2001 under the curatorship of Maria Lind, the project had 29 works from artists such as Hinrich Sachs, Annika Eriksson, Apolonija Sustersic and Honoré d'O.
7 Established in 1953 and reopened in 2003 as part of a network or museums at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de Mexico, the Museo Experimental El Eco houses artistic pratices developed from reflection about the space and historical context and the architecture of the museum conceived by the artist Mathias Goeritz. 
8 SHEIKH, Simon. Notas sobre la crítica institucional. Available at
http://eipcp.net/transversal/0106/sheikh/es/#_ftn1.
9 Idem.
10 From an interview in Revista Lugares, Fundação Iberê Camargo. Available at http://www.iberecamargo.org.br/site/revista-lugares/revista-lugares-entrevistas-detalhe.aspx?id=1513.
11 From an interview with the artist in November 2013.
12 KWON, Miwon. One place after another: Site-specific art and locational identity. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2004.
13 FOSTER, Hal. O artista como etnógrafo. In: Arte & Ensaios – Revista do Programa de Pós-Graduação em Artes Visuais EBA-UFRJ, year XII, n. 12. Rio de Janeiro: EBA-UFRJ, 2005.
14 LIND, Maria. Learning From Art and Artists. In: WADE, Gave (org.). Curating in the 21st Century. London: University of Wolverhampton, 2000. 
15 PRESTON, Victoria. Institutional Critique: misunderstood legacies and modes of criticality. In: Giant Stpes: Reflections and essays on Institutional Critique. Itália, 2012/2013. Available at http://static.squarespace.com/static/526e5978e4b0b83086a1fede/t/52fe372ce4b0b2297699762b/1392391980849/GiantStep-39-sprds.pdf.

Sobre modos de ver

Se toda realidade será sempre uma construção quando captada por uma câmera, isto é, se já não faz sentido investir na possibilidade de um olhar neutro diante do real, capaz de retratá-lo de modo objetivo e desinteressado, talvez sejam justamente os modos de ver e de interpretar os únicos temas possíveis de um documentário. Seguindo essa lógica, o foco não estaria mais no outro, mas no encontro com esse outro: nos modos de se aproximar daquilo que é diferente e de investigar e narrar essa diferença. O que sempre falará tanto de quem “documenta” quanto de quem é “documentado”. Ou daqueles que, mutuamente, se reconhecem e se constroem diante da câmera.

Pois um dos aspectos que mais chamam a atenção em Doméstica (2012), de Gabriel Mascaro (Recife, Brasil, 1983), é a opção por centrar o filme não em um retrato do outro, a empregada doméstica, mas em um ensaio sobre aproximações em relação a esse outro. Sete adolescentes são convidados pelo artista a filmar suas empregadas ao longo de uma semana, e é a partir do material coletado que o filme é construído. Assim, Doméstica acaba por evidenciar complexas relações de trabalho, poder e afeto que revelam as condições, os conflitos, os anseios e o dia a dia das empregadas, na mesma medida em que também falam daqueles que as registram e do modo como se endereçam a elas.

A estratégia de centrar a atenção no olhar mais que no objeto, tematizando relações e encontros – ou modos de ver – e questionando o próprio dispositivo documentário, é comum a uma série de filmes realizados no Brasil na última década. É o caso de Rua de mão dupla (2002), de Cao Guimarães, em que desconhecidos trocam de casa por um dia com a missão de realizar uma espécie de retrato do outro, e Santiago (2007), de João Moreira Salles, em que o diretor questiona sua própria maneira de retratar a vida do antigo mordomo da família, para citar dois exemplos. Sobre as relações que se estabelecem nesse exercício de observação do real ou do outro, Cao Guimarães pondera: “Se o meu assunto é a realidade, não estou isento dela e nem ela está isenta de mim. Neste exercício da reciprocidade, da generosidade da entrega, vários graus de subjetividade estão interagindo entre si. A questão não é objetivar o olhar diante da realidade mas mesclar sua subjetividade com a subjetividade do outro”.

Modos de ver também são tema central em Journey to a Land Otherwise Known (2011), de Laura Huertas Millán (Bogotá, Colômbia, 1983). Inspirado nos relatos dos primeiros exploradores da América, o filme investiga o olhar etnográfico e sua construção de uma alteridade exótica e distante. Embora evoquem a natureza intocada dos trópicos, as imagens são captadas em um ambiente artificial, uma estufa tropical criada em Lille, no norte da França. Trata-se, portanto, de uma realidade construída a partir de uma determinada leitura de um lugar que, aqui, é reapresentada a partir de outro olhar. A câmera passeia pela paisagem em planos não muito abertos, mas quase sempre demorados, sem narração ou qualquer tentativa de tradução daquilo que vemos. Cabe ao espectador relacionar as imagens e construir seu retrato ou reinterpretação do lugar – a partir de um olhar que também aportará ao que vê.

Já em Mirror (2012), de Tiécoura N’Daou (Mopti, Mali, 1983), a própria imagem do artista é objeto de um delicado estudo sobre o olhar. Refletida nas águas do rio, ela se apresenta desconstruída e instável, tal qual a imagem de um outro que não se deixa atrapar. Nesse exercício de reconhecimento, Tiécoura nos oferece um comentário sobre a fragilidade que acompanha toda tentativa de aproximação e enunciação – do outro e de si mesmo.

Se a indagação do outro sempre revelará algo de nós mesmos, seja nossas perguntas, seja nossos desejos, talvez o que obras como essas nos lembrem, para além do acento nos modos de ver, é que toda construção identitária se dá pelo encontro, pelo diálogo, e nunca constituirá uma entidade fixa, homogênea e estável, mas “um trajeto, uma dinâmica processual, um vir a ser”, como apontam os curadores da mostra Panoramas do Sul, cujas obras dão origem à plataforma. Trata-se, assim, de trabalhos que refletem não tanto sobre o outro, mas sobre as políticas de representação do outro e de construção de narrativas a partir de encontros ou mesclas de subjetividades.

* Texto publicado em janeiro de 2014 na PLATAFORMA:VB, ferramenta online desenvolvida pelo Videobrasil para pesquisa e experimentação em arte. Acesse outros exercícios de mapeamento da PLATAFORMA:VB aqui: http://plataforma.videobrasil.org.br/#mapeamentos.
** Doméstica, Gabriel Mascaro, 2012 (still).

Territory as theme and strategy: Geopoetics and the 8th Mercosul Biennial

My intention in this paper is to present a case study to consider ways through which contemporary art–and particularly curatorial practice–currently address and examine the idea of territory. I shall be concentrating on the 8th Mercosul Biennial, which took place in Porto Alegre, southern Brazil, between April and December 2011, under the title Essays in Geopoetics. The chief curator of the project was Jose Roca, who worked with a team of six curators–in a very collective way of operating–which included myself as assistant curator. 

Two main points of this curatorial experience guide this presentation: the idea of territory as a theme, namely the ways in which artists have addressed issues central to this discussion, such as ideas of nation and nationality, cartography, identity, colonialism and global/local relations; and the idea of territory as a strategy for curatorship, namely the attempt to develop the project in a close relationship and dialogue with the context in which it is held.

Before going any further, however, I think it is important to provide some contextual information about the event and the location where it took place. The Mercosul Biennial was created in 1997 in Porto Alegre, a city with a population of about 1.4 million in the extreme south of Brazil. The city is the capital of the state of Rio Grande do Sul, the fourth-largest economy in the country and one of the five states with the highest Human Development Index (HDI)–measured according to factors such as per-capita income, health and education. This means that it is a relatively wealthy region within the Brazilian context and it also has its own particular characteristics, such as a subtropical climate with four defined seasons, the important presence of European immigration (especially German and Italian) and a strong identification with the far south of Latin America, especially Uruguay and Argentina. These are countries with which the region shares its climate, the Pampa landscape, the identity of the gaucho, the culture of the churrasco/parrilla and even specific linguistic constructions: characteristics which, among other aspects, have fed the considerably shared view among inhabitants of the state that Rio Grande do Sul is “less Brazilian” than other states in the country. 

Although these features do in fact distance the region from a certain stereotype of Brazil (tropical, hot, with beaches, carnival and festivals), the belief is clearly questionable in that it implies the existence of a “genuine and unique Brazilian identity” that is more-or-less fixed, homogenous and timeless. I do not want to spend more time on this aspect here, but I think it is important to mention this issue, since it is something that was also present in the development of a Biennial focused on the idea of territory.

Despite what its name may suggest, the Mercosul Biennial is not a project developed collectively by the member countries of the Mercosul trading bloc, nor is it based in different locations or focused solely on the artistic production of the region. The project was created by a private foundation, financed fully by Brazil, with funds coming mainly from public sources through legislation offering financial incentives to companies interested in supporting cultural projects.

On the one hand, within the Brazilian context, the Biennial was created at an important time of re-valuation of the cultural context, a moment of intensive institutionalisation and professionalization on the art scene, although we should note the relative fragility of those processes, supported by the country’s economic stability achieved with the Plano Real and the creation of cultural incentive legislation, among other factors. It was a time when the central position of the Rio-São Paulo axis on the cultural scene began to make way for other centres of production and dissemination in the country, such as Porto Alegre and Recife, and the Mercosul Biennial played an important role in this process.

On the other hand, considered in a broader context, the Mercosul Biennial was created amidst the proliferation of Biennials in various parts of the world during the final two decades of the twentieth century–and particularly in places distant from the traditional centres. Many reasons contributed to this process: a pursuit of political, economic and cultural affirmation, a search for legitimation in the face of the global and an attempt to establish an “articulation of difference” to use Homi Bhabha’s concept.  In other words, establishing another place for articulation of the discourse about the other, the outsider, the eccentric–an aim which, as we know, was not always achieved. It is therefore important to stress that at the time of its creation the Biennial as an exhibition model was already being questioned in terms of its nature as spectacle and tourist attraction, the ossification of its format and the difficulty of addressing an important sector of contemporary production which is more process-based and less adaptable to the exhibition format–just to name a few aspects.

This is the context in which the Mercosul Biennial was created, with a special focus on art made in Latin America. It sought really to establish a discourse about this production from another place/point of view; with an important emphasis on its educational role; and with a format that was re-modelled with each edition, both in terms of the spaces in which the event takes place (there is a relatively fixed core, but the Biennial always explores different places with each event), or in relation to its structure: quantity, format and curatorial strategy of the exhibitions, how they function as a whole, the role of the curator and the artist, the presence of a historical section, etc. In this sense, the 8th Mercosul Biennial forms a dialogue with the two previous editions in particular, which in some way sought to “twist” the Biennial format, testing ways of organising and articulating the event that do not just translate into exhibitions.

The title Essays on Geopoetics refers to the various ways in which artists address the notion of territory and redefine it, based on geographical, political and cultural perspectives. The proposal was inspired by issues such as the tensions between local and transnational territories, the idea that local and global are related terms and not descriptions of well defined and isolated physical or symbolic territories; also by the connection between political constructs, geographical circumstances and the construction of narratives of identity, and finally the way in which cultural interchange and circulation of symbolic capital are articulated today.

On the one hand, the event proposed a discussion about the idea of territory, while on the other it also sought to investigate and act upon the actual territory of Porto Alegre and Rio Grande do Sul, intensifying the relationship with the local–and it is worth recalling here the recurrent criticism that Biennials often turn their backs on local audiences and focus more on the international art community. The 8th Biennial therefore extended the action of the event in space and time, involving the organisation not just of exhibitions but also activation strategies. 

A total of seven major actions were organised under the titles of: Geopoetics, Travel Notebooks, Unseen City, Beyond Frontiers, the Eugenio Dittborn exhibition, Continents and Casa M. An important aspect of the project was the participation of the education curator, Pablo Helguera, in defining the development of the curatorial proposal, which led to each component also being presented as a platform for connection with the education programme. As we shall see, this meant that instances of curatorship and education were not devised in isolation or in parallel, nor according to a kind of hierarchy in which the education programme only responded to the curatorial proposal.

Time – and space – prevents a detailed presentation of each component, so I have chosen to centre on three actions in particular: the Geopoetics exhibition, Travel Notebooks and Casa M.

The Geopoetics exhibition involved more than half of all the 105 artists in the event and also involved a greater concentration of participants from countries beyond Latin America. It occupied three warehouse spaces on the Porto Alegre quayside, which was one of the main locations of the event. That is probably the component that best exemplifies the treatment of the idea of territory as a theme. The show was centred on a discussion about the idea of nation within the context of a globalised world: How can nation be defined today? As a cultural construct (unlike the country, which is defined by geographical territory, and the state, defined by political organisation), to what extent is a nation also a fiction? And to what extent are the conventional concepts of nation/state/country being questioned by new forms of organisation that go beyond territoriality? These may be forms based on religious or political belief, ethnicity, customs, language, or forms of articulation that are not governed by political control or geographical boundaries, such as transnational entities with political or economic aims. What is the status of a fictional nation? Can there be cartography that is not at the service of domination?

In this sense, Geopoetics explored different aspects of the ideas of state, country and nation: their symbolic rhetoric (map, flag, anthem, passport), the ways they represent themselves and are represented by others, strategies of self-affirmation and consolidation of identity, processes of cultural hybridization or the ways they address and transform or are addressed and transformed by other nations and cultures, etc. 

Barthélémy Toguo (Mbalmayo, Cameroon) showed a new version of his performative installation The New World Climax (Berlin, 2001). He made a series of huge carved wooden stamps, displayed on tables together with woodcut prints. The stamps relate to the very complicated process of visa application and immigration experienced by citizens from developing countries. Ironically, they take the form and materiality of typical African carvings commonly bought by tourists as souvenirs–and easily transported from one place to another. The images are inspired by the markings in Toguo’s passport and his own experience with constant migration. For the 8th Biennial, the images also referred to territories under dispute or whose political status is questioned or also to identity narratives based on aspects other than territoriality. The work thus indicates the fragility of these constructions while at the same time pointing out the ambiguity of a world in which displacement and movement become constants, where being in transit means somehow belonging to this new order, and where, on the other hand, the circulation of people is more strictly controlled than the one of services and goods.

Jonathan Harker (Quito, Ecuador) also addressed the relationship between hegemonic and non-hegemonic countries and the way in which narratives of identity are also constructed by these relationships. In Manawa, Nicarawa (2010), the artist presents a sort of video clip based on a famous foxtrot composed in 1946 by the Americans Irving Fields and Albert Gamse. A huge success during the hay day of the Nicaraguan capital, the song is still part of the national imagery nowadays. Its English and Spanish verses celebrate an idealised tropical paradise with a warm climate, abundant nature, easy women, little work and much partying “for a few pesos down.” This satirical imagery full of clichés reflects foreign perception of the country–and to a degree Nicaraguans’ perception of themselves–while evoking the exploitation and inequalities in the complex relationship between the United States and Nicaragua, which for decades experienced direct interventions by the North American government. 

Relationships of domination and subordination between countries and territories are also suggested by Hago mío este territorio / I claim this territory as mine (2007) by Manuela Ribadeneira (Quito, Ecuador). The piece symbolically and literally reclaims a territory through an implacable gesture of thrusting a knife displaying this statement into a wall, exploring the rituals of possession and conquest of territory and the various ways in which a kingdom, a government or a community declares a land as theirs. 

Representations of territories were also present in Geografia de encontros / Geography of encounters (2010/2011) by Mayana Redin (Campinas, Brazil). This series of drawings creates new cartographies based on the overlapping of places and landscapes–or the lines that outline their shapes and define their boundaries. Examples include bringing together all the countries without seas or the confluence of three coloured seas–the Black Sea, the Red Sea and the Yellow Sea. Geographical features, geopolitical issues, historical conditions and images suggested by words are the inspiration behind Mayana Redin’s fictional geographies. 

Among other works included in the Geopoetics exhibition were spaces known as Zones of Poetic Autonomy: small symbolic territories that represented a nation within the exhibition, sometimes a fictional one created by an artist, sometimes a real one inspiring an art project, sometimes a nation that wouldn’t fit into either category, such as the Principality of Sealand, a micro nation created in 1967 on an old military base 11 km from the east coast of Great Britain in what were then international waters. With a territory of less than 500m2, and a national currency, flag, anthem, stamps and passport, Sealand has never been internationally recognised, although some episodes in its history have reinforced its independence.

Travel Notebooks was another exhibition shown in one of the quayside warehouses, but one that developed through a series of journeys and activities in different regions of Rio Grande do Sul in an attempt to take the Biennial beyond the city of Porto Alegre. It is a component that offers a very good interpretation of the idea of adopting territory not just as a theme but also as a curatorial strategy, since it developed precisely through close contact with the region: at first, with curators doing research trips and, most importantly, with the artists themselves travelling and producing within this territory.

Travel Notebooks involved the work of nine artists travelling to different regions of Rio Grande do Sul from April to August 2011. Each journey lasted two to three weeks. The idea was that this experience should work not as a research trip but that the artist should develop work during that time, allowing the experience of travel, the landscape and social or cultural interaction to indicate how the project would develop. At the end of the period each artist held an exhibition in a space at their destination, displaying the results of the art processes followed during the journey–their travel notebooks, in a way, which took the form of video, photographs, drawings, installation, etc. The participating artists also offered workshops related to their projects and gave talks about their work. Having completed the journey and returned to their studios, they then developed the works to be shown in Porto Alegre. 

Mateo Lopez (Bogotá, Colombia) travelled to a region known as Caminho dos Moinhos [The Mills Route], in the north of Rio Grande do Sul, staying there for three weeks and developing a body of work concerned with the culture, history and meaning of bread in the region. Making notes and drawings and collecting small objects, the artist transformed the old mill of the Ilópolis Museu do Pão [Bread Museum], where he showed his work, into a kind of studio which visitors were invited to explore, discovering the artist’s investigations and interventions in the place. The installations combined architecture, objects from the region and drawings that sometimes recreated and sometimes imitated reality to produce three-dimensional constructions. During his stay Mateo Lopez ran a series of drawing workshops, held an open discussion with the public and took part in a museum-organised event in Ilópolis town square, teaching local inhabitants to make bread sculptures in the square’s clay oven.

Marcos Sari (Porto Alegre, Brazil) travelled to the Pampa region in the southwest of the state, developing a series of works based on the landscape of the region. His particularly painterly way of seeing used the vastness and luminosity of the landscape as a kind of background for his works, investigating colour, planes, light, texture and depth through temporary interventions on site, which were recorded with photographs. The works involved the use of fabrics that created kinds of marks in the landscape and the use of ropes, fabric tape and metal bars to draw shapes in the location. Although coming from Porto Alegre, Marcus Sari had never previously visited the region. During his journey, he also organized a series of activities with the local community, such as workshops on painting, intervention and landscape, a talk about his work and an exhibition in a local cultural centre.

The work of Nick Rands (London, England) developed in a quite individual way in the context of the project. He often works using systems of counting (taking a photograph every so many paces, using a colour every so often in painting), and his project did not develop out of the experience of travelling or through contact with the places visited, but rather through a particular travel strategy (or approach to territory) and a system of collecting images and materials from the places visited. The artist drew the largest possible square on the map of Rio Grande do Sul and planned to visit every point at which the line of the square intersected with a road: 80 in total, together with the four places at the corners of the square. At each location he collected earth from the ground and took a photograph of the sky–and at every kilometre of the journey (3.600 in total) he took a photograph of the road ahead. At each corner of the square he also collected more earth and recorded a 360º panoramic video of the landscape. All the rules and procedures were defined before the journey began, indicating but not defining the final result of the work, which is always an unknown for the artist. The earth collected from the four corners was used to paint four large “spherical paintings,” which were shown at the art museum in Santa Maria, more or less at the centre of the square travelled by the artist, together with a video of the four panoramic recordings from the corners. 

If Travel Notebooks was the component that most extended the 8th Biennial in space, expanding the places of the event’s activities and also allowing it to be fed from that space, Casa M extended the Biennial’s actions in time. As a cultural space in the format of a house, it opened in Porto Alegre before the main event and remained in operation after it had closed, with a total of seven months of activities. In addition to hosting discussions, workshops and courses about the 8th Biennial artists and themes, Casa M also had its own programme which featured intersections between art languages and fields of knowledge through the encouragement of encounter, debate and exchange and an emphasis on the art process and experimentation rather than presentation of results.

Although not an exhibition space, Casa M did have an exhibition programme, which was concentrated in the building’s small vitrine–having been a hat shop in the early twentieth century–for which a different artist each month produced a site-specific project. In addition to these small exhibitions, the building also had three permanent works which in some way merged with the architecture and the use of the space: the doorbell, which played different sounds throughout the building, to create a kind of symphony, by Vitor Cesar (Fortaleza, Brazil); the garden, which was covered with different tones of red sand and also had a cube made of burnt timbers, contrasting with the grey of the neighbouring buildings and the green of the vegetation, by Fernando Limberger (Porto Alegre, Brazil); and finally the furniture housing art books and magazines from the Biennial Foundation’s Research and Documentation Centre, available for public consultation for the first time in a kind of library, designed by Daniel Acosta (Pelotas, Brazil). 

The internal architecture was also elaborated to be able to meet a variety of needs, creating flexible spaces and furniture, like the library itself, which was also used as a space for courses and discussions; the kitchen, which many times became a meetings room; the entrance space, which sometimes contained tables and chairs as a kind of café or could be transformed into a large hall for performances, music and theatre presentations.

As part of its programme, Casa M hosted a group of twelve artists from different art forms (theatre, music, literature, dance and the visual arts) who used the space during the seven-month period as a place for working and research, giving workshops and developing joint proposals in pairs, which were presented to the public each fortnight. The works involved a mixture of a wide range of formats: performance, installation, video, musical, puppet theatre. There was also a fortnightly discussion programme bringing together professionals from different fields to share experiences of projects in development and exchange ideas about their practice, be it artistic, scientific, curatorial, gastronomic, critical, etc. Another important activity involved a series of curatorial residencies, in which four curators from different Latin American countries spent one week in Porto Alegre, visiting studios and activating the Casa M programme.

Besides the activities offered, one of the key aspects of the project was that Casa M also took shape through how it was used, being effectively taken over by its public and being reinvented by the people visiting it. It could be considered as a space simply for being in. Like a house, it could be a place for reading a book, having a cup of coffee, meeting friends, making contact with new people, listening to music, taking the sun in the yard. It was a place that could be adopted as a kind of third place, outside the space of the home and of work, a place for social interaction and opening out other possibilities of relating to art, life, the other and the city. 

In this sense, the first audiences for the project, besides the cultural and artistic community of Porto Alegre, were the Biennial team itself–particularly the 200 mediators of the education programme, who in fact adopted the space as a meeting point and proposed numerous activities, such as evening get-togethers, workshops, video sessions, walks through the neighbourhood, picnics–and Casa M’s neighbours, who despite being more hesitant in their involvement also took part in the project, attending discussions, workshops, meetings and monthly tea parties. Many of these neighbours also took part in the “Fica Casa M” campaign at the end of the year, organised in favour of retaining the space as a permanent fixture. It should also be mentioned that the programme grew and diversified throughout the year as a result of suggestions from the community itself (not just from Porto Alegre but also from other parts of the country and Latin America) involving workshops, publications launches, video presentations, theatrical performances, etc. Even for us, as curators, it was surprising to notice how much attention Casa M attracted in the cultural scene of the city in such a short period of activities and how the project began to take on its own life over the months.

Vegetable-garden in the yard, musical rehearsals in the basement, a kitchen transformed into a bread studio or into a classroom for university students, the library hosting a play, the garden converted into a children’s playground, performances on the stairs and a studio improvising a dance floor: these are just some of the experiences that activated Casa M and brought other meanings into the place.

That was perhaps the action that most markedly achieved closer contacts with the local community and took shape through close dialogue with it, addressing the local context not as a “passive receptor,” but as an active agent deeply involved in the development of the project. The idea of territory as an action strategy here acquired its own special shape. Traversed by the different components, themes and artists of the 8th Biennial (in the courses and workshops or through the discussions with artists and curators), Casa M formed a kind of community around the event, a territory through which the project was offered to the public while at the same time sharing its development process and being infected and transformed through that relationship.

The other components of the Biennial involved two further activation strategies: Continents, involved residencies by six artist-run spaces from different places in Latin America in three separate towns in Rio Grande do Sul, with each host space loaning its facilities to the guest space for three weeks to develop a joint collaborative programme. The Unseen City project involved nine invited artists who developed works for places of historical, architectural or social interest in Porto Alegre city centre that usually passed by unnoticed by the local population. 

The Biennial event was completed by two other exhibitions: a show of Eugenio Dittborn’s airmail paintings, as the artist of honour for the 8th edition; and an exhibition that brought together different views about the frontier regions of Rio Grande do Sul: the Pampa (shared with Uruguay and Argentina), the Jesuit missions (shared with Paraguay and Argentine) and the canyon region (shared with the state of Santa Catarina). These are places where political-geographic boundaries become blurred by the contiguity of the natural and cultural landscape in particular.

If the 8th Biennial investigated different ways of addressing and defining the idea of territory today, considering the concept not just as a theme but also as an action strategy, it also proposed ways of seeing the territory in which it developed and from which it sought sustenance. This is a sort of “articulation of difference” involving not only art production but also about the region itself. One example can be seen in the work of Cao Guimarães (Belo Horizonte, Brazil), made for the Beyond Frontiers exhibition. The highly attentive and sensitive eye employed in his film Limbo focuses on the context of country people in the Pampa region on the Rio Grande do Sul-Uruguay boundary. The images the artist recorded are permeated by a melancholy tone, extended tempo, broad horizons and a sense of disenchantment. The work creates a kind of portrait of this place that is neither one country nor another, but rather a region in itself. It is a place where Uruguayans, Argentinians and Brazilians call themselves “border people” identifying their origins in this “in between place” defined more by its interconnections than by its boundaries. 

* Paper originally presented at an international symposium organized by the Royal College of Arts (London) together with Centro Andaluz de Arte Contemporâneo (Seville) at Universidad Internacional de Andalucía, in Seville, March 2012. The symposium was named Coloniality, Curating and Contemporary Art.

Sobre arquivos vivos e outras emergências

Se em alguns casos a palavra “arquivar” pode ser considerada sinônimo de esquecer ou deixar de lado (arquivar um processo, por exemplo, nada mais é que abandoná-lo), em outros pode significar justamente o contrário. Arquivo de Emergência, de Cristina Ribas, é um bom exemplo. Longe de constituir um “arquivo morto”, o conjunto de documentos reunidos pela artista traz à tona o que ela chama de eventos ou estratégias de ruptura, atividades como exposições, publicações, performances, intervenções e textos os mais variados, que estabelecem uma postura crítica e propositiva frente à arte e seu circuito. Arquivar, aqui, não significa abandonar, nem simplesmente conservar. Significa, sobretudo, revelar.

Tomando como ponto de partida o cenário artístico brasileiro dos últimos dez anos e a emergência de uma série de iniciativas independentes ao longo desse período, Cristina reúne documentos que sinalizam ruídos, brechas e rupturas no campo da arte, ao desnaturalizarem relações e apontarem outros trânsitos, espaços e diálogos para a produção artística no país. Dentre as propostas arquivadas, publicações como O Ralador, Meio, Item, Recibo e Número; projetos como PIA, Inclassificados, CEIA, Perdidos no Espaço e Arte Construtora; e exposições como Remetente e Contemporão.

O interessante é que as iniciativas não são catalogadas com base em informações como data e local, mas a partir de conceitos propostos pela artista, que envolvem noções como o tipo de dispositivo empregado (ação relacional, criação de território, etc), o equipamento utilizado (exposição, ação, performance, etc) e o corpo de informações ativado pelo projeto (artista, curador, instituição, etc)[1]. O sistema, que permite classificar as propostas em mais de uma categoria, propõe uma reflexão cuidadosa acerca dos significados e das relações que essas iniciativas vêm estabelecendo entre si e com outros agentes do circuito.

Em construção permanente, Arquivo de Emergência é um arquivo vivo por natureza, sujeito não só a constantes ampliações, como também a reformatações, que incluem, por exemplo, a reclassificação de projetos e até mesmo a revisão de conceitos. A abertura a desdobramentos incalculados é condição fundamental em trabalhos como este, que não correspondem a um produto único e acabado, nem possuem regras fixas de execução, constituindo um processo em aberto, que necessita de um tempo estendido para se desenvolver. Ainda que a pesquisa elaborada por Cristina Ribas seja voltada à construção de um corpo de idéias e objetos, é na coleta de informações e documentos – e na reflexão sobre as iniciativas em questão – que o trabalho se realiza. E se recompõe num processo contínuo.

Como se sabe, a idéia de arte como ação, processo ou projeto não é nenhuma novidade na história da arte. Já no início do século XX, Paul Valéry anunciava seu interesse pela fabricação das obras, mais que pelas próprias obras: “Tenho o hábito ou a mania de só apreciar as obras como ações”[2], escreveu. Para o poeta e crítico literário francês, entre o fazer artístico e o produto artístico, havia um contraste. Apenas o primeiro era capaz de revelar “os ensaios, os arrependimentos, as desilusões, os sacrifícios, os empréstimos, os subterfúgios”[3] e as circunstâncias, favoráveis ou não, que haviam constituído a obra e que, no entanto, permaneciam invisíveis em sua forma precisa e acabada. A atenção ao processo reforçava, assim, a natureza humana da criação artística e desconstruía as noções de mistério e maravilhoso historicamente relacionadas à atividade. Já nos anos 1960 e 1970, a ênfase no fazer artístico conclamada por artistas como Robert Morris e Roman Opalka vinculava-se diretamente à tendência antiformal observada no período, que atacava a obra de arte enquanto produto único, permanente e vendável, enfatizando o processo, a experiência ou simplesmente o conceito que a constituía.

Hoje em dia, são inúmeras as propostas artísticas a privilegiar a ação, o projeto, a experiência ou o processo em detrimento da construção de objetos. Se a crítica à mercantilização da obra já não é mais a tônica, até porque muitas dessas práticas já foram incorporadas pelo “mainstream” da arte contemporânea, o que parece estar em jogo nesse tipo de trabalho é a criação de relações – entre o artista e o público, entre o trabalho e um determinado contexto social, político ou econômico ou ainda entre o próprio público. É o caso de projetos como o Jardim Miriam Arte Clube, de Mônica Nador, Você gostaria de participar de uma experiência artística?, de Ricardo Basbaum, Museu das vistas, de Carla Zaccagnini, Acredite nas suas ações, do coletivo GIA, museumuseu, de Mabe Bethônico, entre muitos outros.

No caso de Arquivo de Emergência, são as relações entre os diferentes agentes do circuito artístico – e os projetos capazes de desnaturalizá-las, desestabilizá-las ou reprocessá-las – que interessam à artista. Trata-se de lançar luz sobre esses projetos a partir de uma perspectiva igualmente crítica e reflexiva, de forma a potencializar seus significados e ampliar seus desdobramentos, construindo um pensamento que se oferece ao público em processo – e que não deixa de constituir o elemento central da obra. Se o próprio arquivo de Cristina Ribas poderia ser catalogado como “estratégia de ruptura”, não há dúvidas de que ele inscreve um ponto de inflexão no campo artístico, uma investigação militante que se mostra ao mundo como Paul Valéry propunha: a partir das inquietações, reflexões, dúvidas, compreensões e sobretudo circunstâncias que a constituem e que a mantêm viva.

[1] Para saber mais sobre Arquivo de Emergência, acesse http://arquive-se.blogdrive.com/.
[2] VALÉRY, Paul. Variedades. São Paulo: Editora Iluminuras, 1991.
[3] Idem.

* Texto originalmente publicado na revista Número, n.9, em dezembro de 2006.

Ternura, humor, arte e política

Pode a arte interferir ou transformar a realidade social? Quais as possibilidades de diálogo entre arte e vida? Questões como essas já incitaram debates inflamados na história da arte e ainda hoje provocam polêmica por onde passam. A razão é simples: o casamento entre arte e política nem sempre é visto com bons olhos por artistas e teóricos. Há um certo temor de que, na dinâmica conjugal, as questões de ordem política se sobreponham às de ordem artística – como se estivéssemos falando de interesses necessariamente dissonantes –, o que acarretaria um inevitável empobrecimento da obra. Para não correr o risco, a solução seria apostar na chamada autonomia da arte e investir em trabalhos que apresentam pouca ou nenhuma relação com seu contexto político, econômico e social. Este é um ponto de vista. Na outra ponta do debate, estão aqueles que não acreditam na possibilidade de uma arte efetivamente neutra e autônoma e que, dadas as profundas desigualdades que caracterizam o mundo de hoje, entendem que os artistas podem, sim, posicionar-se frente a elas. E até mesmo intervir, se esse for o caso.

A discussão dá pano pra manga. E se até pouco tempo atrás podia soar fora de moda, definitivamente varrida do debate artístico após o propalado fim das utopias, não há dúvidas de que ela vem sendo retomada. E com força. Não por acaso foi mote da 11ª Documenta de Kassel, em 2002, e alimentou a concepção da 27ª Bienal de São Paulo, organizada em torno do tema “como viver junto”. A novidade é que as relações entre arte e política já não são mais pensadas como há quarenta anos atrás, quando artistas ligados às novas vanguardas levaram às últimas conseqüências a discussão sobre a natureza da arte e seu papel na sociedade, operando transformações cruciais na produção artística. Findas as grandes utopias, não se trata mais de apostar em uma revolução através da arte, mas de acreditar na possibilidade de intervir, ainda que singelamente, no nosso entorno, defendendo a idéia de uma atitude menos passiva diante da realidade.

É essa a postura expressa pela produção de muitos coletivos da atualidade, agenciamentos formados por jovens artistas que atuam de forma colaborativa no desenvolvimento de propostas artísticas. Exemplo disso são as intervenções do GIA (Grupo de Interferência Ambiental), de Salvador, ou “interferências urbanas”, como prefere chamar o coletivo, criado em 2002 por um grupo de estudantes da Escola de Belas Artes da UFBA[1]. Executadas quase sempre no espaço urbano, suas ações refletem uma compreensão da arte que se aproxima muito mais da produção de experiências do que da criação de objetos artísticos únicos e acabados. Trata-se, na sua maioria, de trabalhos efêmeros, realizados a partir de materiais simples e baratos, e pautados na elaboração de situações que se infiltram nos espaços da vida e buscam promover um certo estranhamento, encantamento ou indagação por parte do público.

É o caso dos panfletos Acredite nas suas ações, distribuídos pelo GIA no SPA das Artes 2005, em Recife. Em quatro versões, os folhetos convidam o público a realizar pequenas intervenções na cidade. São ações simples e poéticas, que estimulam outros olhares, posturas e envolvimento com o espaço onde as pessoas vivem. Uma das filipetas sugere que amarremos uma mensagem a um balão, preferencialmente vermelho, e o soltemos a partir de um lugar alto, observando as reações das pessoas. Outra versão propõe que se produza um carimbo com uma idéia “positiva e criativa”, imprima o “recado” em sacos de pipocas e ofereça-os a um pipoqueiro da cidade. Já outra filipeta estimula o público a reunir amigos a fim de realizar uma fila para observar algo fantástico, mas que já se tornou comum na cidade, de forma a chamar atenção para esse aspecto.

Afetuosas e muito bem-humoradas, as três propostas encorajam o público a intervir poeticamente no local onde vivem, deixando suas rotinas diárias por um momento para produzir mensagens e lançá-las “ao vento” ou para assinalar determinadas particularidades da cidade onde vivem de forma absolutamente inusitada. Essas intervenções, por suas vez, também se propõem a criar situações que convoquem outras pessoas a suspender suas rotinas por um instante, permitindo-se vivenciar outras experiências – surpreendentes, lúdicas, desviantes, ternas ou simplesmente engraçadas. Trata-se de postular – já não mais no espaço da arte, mas nos espaços da vida – a idéia de uma postura mais ativa e imaginativa diante do cotidiano. Nesse sentido, a “camuflagem” proporcionada pela infiltração do trabalho no dia-a-dia das pessoas dota os panfletos do “conteúdo virótico” de que fala Alexandre Vogler[2], potencializando seus possíveis desdobramentos. Isto porque não se está atuando em um espaço onde tudo pode acontecer – o espaço artístico por excelência, onde o estranho e o fora do comum já são esperados pelo público –, mas está se estendendo a potencialidade própria do espaço da arte a lugares e situações ordinários da vida. A operação remete à noção de Bernard Lafargue de que “o próprio da arte é criar lugares estéticos sempre novos, que relembram ao homem que ele não pode habitar o mundo a não ser como poeta”[3].

O aforismo impresso nas três filipetas é categórico: “Acredite nas suas ações”. E logo após, em letras menores: “Desenvolva e utilize, também, outras formas de se relacionar de forma positiva e criativa com a cidade”. Ora, incitar as pessoas a acreditar nas suas ações é uma proposição extremamente simples, porém de uma potência extraordinária. Significa convocá-las a agir. E mais: a fazerem-se presentes em seus atos e a levarem a sério aquilo que fazem, confiantes no poder que seus gestos mais simples podem ter. Trata-se de estimular as pessoas a tornarem-se, de fato, sujeitos de suas histórias. Há necessidade mais premente que essa?

O trabalho fala, assim, de uma aposta na poesia, no afeto, na delicadeza, na imaginação e no bom-humor como estratégias para interferir, ainda que transitoriamente, na realidade. Ou como estratégia para provocar sensibilidades, questionamentos e atitudes. Trata-se de trabalhar a partir do que é dado – o automatismo e a aspereza do dia-a-dia na cidade – para explicitar o que pode ser feito – sonhado, imaginado e desejado – a partir dali. A estratégia traduz o que Nicolas Bourriaud entende como a ação política mais eficaz que o artista pode realizar hoje: mostrar o que pode ser feito a partir do que nos é dado. Nesse sentido, tal ação não indicaria “a esperança em uma revolução, mas a manipulação das formas e das estruturas que nos são apresentadas como eternas ou ‘naturais’”. Com esse espírito, defende o crítico francês, pode-se efetivamente “mudar as coisas de uma maneira muito mais radical”[4].

Outra intervenção que exemplifica a atitude artística do GIA é a série Não Propaganda, realizada pelo grupo desde 2003. Nela, o coletivo se apropria de suportes publicitários de baixo custo, tais como cartazes, panfletos, faixas e até mesmo os chamados homens-sanduíches, e subverte sua função comercial, colorindo-os inteiramente de amarelo, sem imprimir qualquer conteúdo em sua superfície. O interessante é que as “não propagandas” são divulgadas da mesma maneira que uma ação de merchandising qualquer. Os artistas já distribuíram panfletos no mercado público, vestiram-se de homem-sanduíche no centro de Salvador, amarraram faixas junto a semáforos e distribuíram cartazes amarelos a foliões em pleno carnaval. São operações simples, que apontam, contudo, para um problema crucial: a presença massiva da publicidade nas grandes cidades. A eliminação dos conteúdos habitualmente impressos nesses suportes ressalta, num efeito reverso, sua própria existência, pois instiga a atenção dos passantes e atenta para o fato de que os discursos publicitários não são tão invisíveis ou inócuos como já nos podem parecer.

Cama, ação executada pelo coletivo desde 2002, é outro exemplo. O trabalho consiste no posicionamento de uma cama com um sujeito dormindo em locais públicos da cidade, como praças, calçadões e cruzamentos. Enquanto a cama apresenta-se cuidadosamente arrumada com lençóis e travesseiro, o sujeito veste pijamas, o que reforça a impressão de que a cena foi transportada diretamente de um quarto de dormir para as ruas da capital. A operação se vale de um procedimento caro ao Surrealismo: a aproximação de duas realidades ou objetos aparentemente inconciliáveis por pertencerem a esferas ou campos da vida absolutamente distintos. A questão é que a “situação surrealista” apresentada pelo coletivo evoca uma problemática dolorosamente real: a indiferença cotidiana em relação aos milhares de moradores de rua que dormem, diariamente, nas praças, calçadas e viadutos das grandes cidades brasileiras. Trata-se de habitantes cuja condição de vida “surreal” já se tornou banal aos olhares apressados da maioria de nós.

Radicais ou não em sua atuação politicamente poética, o fato é que as “interferências urbanas” propostas pelo GIA apontam outras possibilidades de se pensar as relações entre arte e política na atualidade. Imbuídas de um certo “espírito utópico”, tal qual a noção é defendida por Ernst Bloch, suas ações refletem não uma postura assertiva de afirmação de um novo horizonte concreto e realizável, mas uma postura reflexiva, de indagação em relação ao presente e de “abertura de um espaço de manifestação daquilo que ainda não é”[5]. Trata-se de evocar, sim, outras possibilidades de se perceber, vivenciar, desejar e imaginar o real. Porém não através de ações que atuam, objetivamente, na transformação do quadro social em que vivemos, mas através de interferências capazes de provocar fissuras, ruídos ou curtos-circuitos na realidade, ao promoverem, como diria Bloch[6], pequenas “rotações do olhar”: mudanças no modo como observamos e experienciamos o mundo.

[1] Integram o GIA os artistas Cristiano Píton, Everton Marco Santos, Ludmila Britto, Mark Dayves, Pedro Marighella e Tiago Ribeiro.
[2] VOGLER, Alexandre. Atrocidades Maravilhosas: Ação Independente de Arte no Contexto Público. In: Arte & Ensaios, n..8. Rio de Janeiro: Programa de Pós-Graduação em Artes Visuais/EBA/UFRJ, 2001.
[3] LAFARGUE, Bernard. Nom-Lieu et Lieux de l’Oeuvre d’Art. In: L’Oeuvre d ‘Art Aujourd’hui. Paris: Séminaire Interarts, 2000-2001: 95.
[4] BOURRIAUD, Nicolas. O Que É um Artista (Hoje)? In: FERREIRA, Glória; VENANCIO FILHO, Paulo (org.). In: Arte & Ensaios, n.10. Rio de Janeiro: Programa de Pós-Graduação em Artes Visuais/EBA/UFRJ, 2003.
[5] BLOCH, Ernst apud VERNER, Lorraine. L’Utopie comme Figure Historique dans l’Art. In: BARBANTI, Roberto. L’Art au XXème Siècle et l’Utopie. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2000.
[6] BLOCH. Ernst. Experimentum Mundi. Paris: Payot, 1981.

* Texto originalmente publicado no fanzine do coletivo, em outubro de 2006.