Antonia Shaw
A macabre obsession with our own mortality and a general dystopian outlook are both prevalent fascinations in today’s society. Unsurprisingly, this climate has seeped into the cultural produce of the twentieth century. Some of the most famous literature of our age explores themes of futuristic desolation, such as Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four and Huxley’s Brave New World. Both these seminal works have both been adapted to film, which sit thematically alongside the American blockbuster movies tolling the end of the world.
Artists have also toyed with dystopian issues and tropes. Georges Bataille’s sadistic strand of surrealism manifested shortly after the turn of the century where he and his followers embraced the underbelly of human existence. Voids which penetrate the surface of Lee Bontecou’s 1960s reliefs are often read as ‘warnings’, foretelling the dread that will ensue from our abuse of mankind and our earth. Contemporary sculptor Anya Gallaccio frequently works with perishables, conceptualising death, societal decay and waste products, she leaves her work to physically rot in a gallery space.
Our bizarre idea that creative works are the product of neuroses, personal difficulties and political ideologies is in keeping with our penchant for the dystopian. Indeed our society likes to believe in the therapeutic quality of art, that an artwork is both an emotional release for an artist and a window into their angst ridden mind. Yet we can question whether works such as Bill Viola’s film The Passing, depicting his mother on her death bed, tap more into our state of morbid curiosity than act as therapy for the artist.
Society’s interest in the macabre and the dystopian could be accredited to the Freudian Death Drive. Yet why we seem to be so fascinated in depressing subjects and concepts is not really of interest to me – and it would be futile and foolhardy for me try to address such issues here. But what is troubling is the effect that this fascination has on the reception of works which do not fit the dystopian model.
The prominent art critic, Waldemar Januszczak, unintentionally highlighted this dilemma recently. In his review of the latest Whitechapel installation he made very telling statements about the work of Isa Genzken. The critic deemed only half of the show a success. Raving about Genzken’s early works which he described as “doomy” and “austere”, he criticised the remainder of the show claiming that it portrayed a “party-loving Genzken popping all the corks upstairs” and that it was “a bit Blue Peter”. I fear Januszczak has fallen into the trap that we have inadvertently concocted. Namely, that if an artwork is the polar opposite to the “doomy” dystopian, we pass it aside as fluff and assume that there is little depth to the work aside from formalist properties.
The macabre has infiltrated our art – and there is nothing inherently wrong with this. However, we must ensure that we do not overlook contemporary works that reject the dystopian outlook for a more positive approach.
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