Posted by LBi India May 26th, 2011
So the other night I was reading art critic Douglas Crimp’s 1980 essay “On the Museum’s Ruins” (published in “The Anti-aesthetic: Essays on Postmodern Culture”).
Crimp’s subject is the way the emergence of post-modern art in the 1960s and 70s challenged the authority of museums and galleries to decide how art should be organised and presented (bear with me).
By quoting, copying, referencing and mixing up images from different historical eras and contexts, works like Robert Rauschenberg’s screen prints questioned the practice of hanging works of art according to discrete historical periods, art movements or styles.
If one of Rauschenberg’s pictures can contain elements of both “Venus at Her Toilet” by Peter Paul Rubens (c. 1615) and a modern (1960s) street scene, the argument goes, then who’s to say where it should be displayed?
All of a sudden, curation – the selection, caretaking and presentation of works of art by highly trained and trusted experts – became a tricky business.
Of course, everyone is a curator now. Umberto Eco at the Louvre (his theme was The Infinity of Lists). Laurie Anderson, Nick Cave, David Bowie (and others) at the Meltdown Festival. Audiences (especially bohemian ones). Robots. Even boutique shopkeepers (when they’re not getting celebrities to curate things for them).
Plus me and you, every time we like or link to something via facebook or twitter (or create a spotify playlist, or add something to a tumblr, or expand our Last FM library).
As author – and ‘freelance curator’ – Marvin Heiferman puts it “the title curator is increasingly being used to describe anyone who turns a critical eye toward the aggregation or highlighting of whatever content seems to be at hand.”
Which, these days, is all of us.
One argument says that curating things is easier than creating things. It costs less – in terms of time, equipment, and talent for starters. And you get to enjoy a little bit of the glamour associated with creation without doing all that hard work.
However, when there’s far more content than anyone has the time to consume (or even find), curation has become a valuable social act. Valuable because it helps “synchronise communities”, as Clay Shirky argues (though for the first few seconds of the video it looks like he’s about to start playing the harmonica).
And valuable to the people who want to talk to those communities.
But back to Douglas Crimp. As he points out, in a museum or gallery things become defined by the act of being included. They are defined as ‘art’ rather than rubbish, defined as belonging to this artistic movement rather than that one, defined as being part of a particular narrative (how many different ways could we tell the story of the benin bronzes, for example?)
Conversely, when it comes to our online personas, the things that we include – by linking to them or posting them on our Facebook page – define us.
Do I want to be seen as the kind of person who forwards two-year-old viral videos that everyone has already seen, or as someone who provides links to intellectually stimulating pieces of classic postmodern thinking? Should I use twitter to link to the same sort of things that I like on Facebook? And what do those things say about me?
If I’m going to present myself as a commodity, what sort of commodity do I want everyone to think I am?
Context is everything here. Museums and galleries give context to cultural objects. And the cultural objects we link to give context to our online identities.
One more thing that Crimp touches on in his essay:
Gustav Flaubert’s unfinished 1880 novel “Bouvard and Pecuchet” tells the story of two Parisian copy-clerks whose search for intellectual stimulation ultimately teaches them that, among other things, real life is very different to what one can learn from reading books.
Our heroes study landscape gardening, chemistry, anatomy, medicine, biology, geology, archaeology, architecture, literature, aesthetics, politics, love, gymnastics, theology, philosophy, religion, education, music and urban planning.
But whenever they try to apply what they’ve learned, everything goes wrong.
So –at least in one of Flaubert’s sketches for the book’s finale (he died before it was completed) –they go back to their original profession. Like Robert Rauschenberg, they start copying things: “…haphazardly, everything they find… old newspapers, posters, torn books … real items and their imitations…”
And the problem of context? Like the rest of us, at first Bouvard and Pecuchet have trouble “putting each thing in its proper place – and suffer great anxieties about it.” But finally they realise the important thing:
“The page must be filled! Everything is equal, the good and the evil. The farcical and the sublime… the insignificant and the typical, they all become and exaltation of the statistical. There are nothing but facts – and phenomena.”
And lots and lots of stuff.
By: Owen Booth, LBi London
Tags: content strategy, curation, Facebook, Social Media, social networks, Twitter
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