Made in France, or so it says on the lablel
A review of the current exposition running until 29 September
at the Centre Pompidou.
Paris Kiosque - September 1997 - Volume 4, Number 9
Copyright (c) 1997 Culturekiosque - Used with permission.
To criticise Made in France: 1947 - 1997, the
latest weighty exhibition from the Centre Pompidou in Paris, is a task which
falls scarcely short of criticising virtually all of Western contemporary art,
with its multiple forces and failures.
The excercise, even with the near-infinite capacity of cyberspace, would be
ludicrously ambitious. The same assessment might equally be applied to the show
itself.
Its title is reminiscent of Tous les savoirs du monde, the
inaugural exhibition at the new French national library in Paris since the end
of last year, a claim whose pretentiousness shines through even the darkest
attempt at irony which the organisers may have been trying to apply.
As for the content of the Beaubourg show, who could fault the vibrant
colours and effective simplicity of Matisse's collage La tristesse du Roi,
or the orginality of Giacometti's lank and rough-hewn sculptures, exemplified by
Femme debout II?
And who could fail to at least challenge the artistic merits of some of the
other gimmicky offerings such as Martial Raysse's America, America
with its neon-lit hand, or César's crushed red car?
Such debates could last long enough to bring us to the Centre Pompidou's
100-year retrospective, assuming the renovations of the building which are now
underway stand the test of time better than the previous 20 since it was
originally constructed.
But what right does France have to lay claim to many of the works on
display, as the twee English language title of this exhibition asserts? After
all, when Made in Hong Kong, one of the phrases presumably inspiring
the title, was in circulation, it suggested the cheap output of local artisans.
Yet as the displays quickly reveal, the curators of the French national
modern art collection have demonstrated over the years an impressively
international eclecticism in their purchases. So much so that their criteria
would no doubt be deeply frowned on by the extreme right-wing National Front
party.
Part of the pleasure of the exhibition is to see the variety of backgrounds
and nationalites of the artists displayed. However, it is unclear how far many
can really claim much real affinity with or inspiration drawn from France.
Often, it seems to have been random events which drew them to the country
and enticed them to stay at least temporarily, such as a purely practical
availablity of studios or sponsors, or the search for the idealised bohemian
atmosphere of previous decades.
Rare
are the attempts to analyse and explain the threads drawing those concerned to
France. Of those works that are accompanied by some commentary from the artist,
the efforts rarely surpass cliché or banality, reinforcing
the impression that it is perhaps better for those who paint or sculpt to do so
without attempting to pass further comment.
There are a few notable exceptions. Gottfried Honniger writes movingly of
art as a reflection of society, and how as Italy and Germany took the conscious
steps that led to the second world war, he preferred to live in France, the
country which choose liberty. Eduardo Arroyo similarly recounts his departure
from Spain, to find succour in the city that was still playing host to Picasso,
Ernst and Giacometti.
In fact, there is a lack of any real apparent structure or explanation to
much of the exhibition. Labelling and descriptions in the rooms are minimal.
There is no catalogue. What some might justify as an attempt to liberate
artists from restrictive interpretations might be just as easily be seen as
laziness, hastiness, or the recognition that there is little coherence to the
show.
There are few attempts to draw comparisons, to contrast artists' styles
while in France with what they have done before or after, and not that many
which juxtopose them against those who are supposed to have been the source of
their inspiration.
Notable exceptions include the admirable attempt to play jazz as an
illustration of the inspiration in Pierre Burglio's work. Once or twice, Henri
Cartier-Bresson photographs capturing the artists also provide some helpful
context.
Elsewhere, there is a good degree of pretentious labelling on the walls of
the rooms, with single words such as evidence, universalist,
enchantement, or être en soi thrown at the
visitor.
There appears to be little logic justifying the large numbers of works by
some artists and a single piece of others, and no real attempt to integrate the
large quantity of pieces on show which include architectural models, photographs
and other artforms.
For this reviewer, the overall impression is that the Centre Pompidou has
simply emptied everything out of its cupboards. Some pieces it has not even
bothered to shift from their usual position in previous shows, such as
Jean-Pierre Raynaud's Container Zero.
That is not to say that there are no surprises. Some of the sculptures of
Niki de Saint-Phalle on display are far more harsh than her lyrical works in the
fountain just outside the Centre Pompidou. Erro's cartoon-style critiques,
notably Oil, were delightful discoveries.
But is there a pattern amid the mass? Can the works on display claim to be Made
in France and if so, does that mean anything? After seeing the efforts of
more than 300 artists, spread across two floors and after more than two hours -
the latter half rushed as fatigue took hold - I emerged exhausted yet deeply
unsatisfied.
Made in France: 1947 - 1997.
Cinquante ans de création
en France.
Centre Georges Pompidou.
Until 29 Septiember, 1997
Based in Paris, Andrew Jack is a correspondent for the Financial Times
reporting on business and politics in France. He is a contributing
editor to
Culturekiosque,
where this article first appeared.
Europe's cultural news site, Culturekiosque's editorial staff is composed of
distinguished journalists and critics from major dailies and
specialist publications in Europe and the U.S.,
among them International Herald Tribune, Le Monde, Financial Times,
Handelsblatt, Svenska Dagblat.
Andrew Jack's E-mail address is
ajack@culturekiosque.com
