Tate etc. 22. Summer 2011
Art in the Middle East — Recent openings of art centres and national museums in Algiers, Alexandria, Doha and other cities in the Middle East and North Africa visibly acknowledge a thriving contemporary art scene. Tate Modern has recently acquired works by ten artists from these regions, many of whom exhibit on a global stage while remaining rooted in their home countries. Two artists, a critic and a curator working in four different countries discuss what it means to be an artist from the Middle East, the impact of politics on their work and the role that art can play in their respective societies. The conversation took place at the Townhouse Gallery, Cairo, before the recent people’s uprising.
Kaelen Wilson-Goldie: There is a common assertion, whether it’s right or wrong, supportable or not, that the contemporary artworks that have been produced in the Middle East over the past ten to fifteen years are quite heavy on politics, more so than in other regions. I think maybe you can approach this assertion several different ways. You could say it’s a matter of interpretation: that certain curators and critics overemphasise the political content of the work that’s coming out of this part of the world; that they look to the art for what it tells them- or confirms for them – about various conflicts in the region. In effect, they instrumentalise the work. Or you could say it’s a matter of selection: that institutions and curators are immediately drawn to political work at the expense of everything else that’s out there. The assumption is that what audiences, particularly those outside the Middle East, really want to see is how the region’s troubles and tragedies are reflected in or expressed through artistic practices. So you end up with a really distorted representation of what’s happening artistically. Or you could say that it’s precisely the politics of the Middle East that shape the forms and strategies of artistic practice. Is contemporary art from the Middle East more political than from elsewhere, or is the work so politically loaded because the region itself is so politically charged?
Vasıf Kortun: Quite a lot of work is interested in forms of narrative, producing meaning from different angles, engaging in the present, and that seems to come across as political, or is seen as political. I think if you asked that question about other places, for example the Balkans ten years ago, you’d get a similar answer. It’s not about the art from one region or another being more political. It’s about the position from which we ask the question. The people who pose that question seem to be asking it from a “centralist” position where there is actually a certain gamut of art that works in a particular way. I don’t think it’s a good to ask. It isolates and actually marginalises a context.
Kader Attia: In one way, I agree about the central position of who asks the question. But we also need to remember that the Middle East, from Morocco to Tehran is an area where the presence of political authorities in everyday life (both the local actors, as in Algeria, Egypt, Tunisia, etc, and the Western ones, as in Iraq for instance) and strong censorship systems give artists (including writers, directors, etc) only little room for contestation.
Kaelen Wilson-Goldie. What about the category itself? What does contemporary art from the Middle East mean? How has it been constructed? Is it a field of artistic production? Is it tied to a certain art historical lineage? Is it a market? Is it a larger infrastructure that includes a market, museum projects and different funding bodies? Given that all of you live in different cities, work in different ways and deal with different state systems, how did you see yourself or find yourself in this category?
Vasif Kortun: That’s a tough question. For me, it is predicated on the context of Turkey in particular, because having come from a place that occupied the region for a very long time- I mean, all except Iran – there is a historical trajectory. However, up until almost the end of the 1990s, there was very little visible give-and-take between Middle Eastern countries. The region did not exist for practitioners in Turkey. The order of discourse was vertical, in the sense that borders were closer to New York than Cairo, or wherever, depending on what the imagined power centre was at the time. After 1989, the Balkans came into focus following the breakup of the Soviet states. That was the watershed. It changed everything, which also made it inevitable that practitioners would start paying attention closer to home. I did, at least. In the past decade, the region became, in many ways, the subject of great interest. This meant I was able to orientate my institution, the Platform Garanti Contemporary Art Center, towards establishing very close links with places such as Ashkal AIwan in Beirut or the Townhouse Gallery of Contemporary Art in Cairo -to start residencies and try to build relations with places that one feels much closer to. Incidentally, I don’t go to Europe any more, almost never. Even the travel routes and the context have changed. This all started around the time of 9/11, or right after it. Now, we see a completely different situation in which we have to navigate everything differently.
Wael Shawky: Usually I feel defensive of the category, of course, but actually I felt it most when I was in the residency programme at Platform in Istanbul. I lived in Mecca during my childhood, and then I came to Egypt. Most of my work deals with ideas of nomadism, emigration, and religion. I hadn’t been aware of any pressure to deal with or try to define an identity- of coming from an Islamic country, or from the East or the West. But I felt this tension during my stay in Istanbul. I didn’t make too many pieces in Istanbul, just The Cave (2005). I was trying to translate my experience there. That was around the time when everyone was talking about Turkey’s bid to join the European Union. At the same time, it is an Islamic country- you go to the mosques and you hear people praying. But then again, most of them don’t understand exactly what they’re saying because they don’t speak Arabic. All these questions made me think back to my childhood in Mecca.
KaderAttia: The situation is a little different for me because Algeria is a country that has been colonised for most of the last 2,000 years of its history by the Romans, the Arabs, the Ottomans and the French. This idea of categorising an identity, such as Arab art world or contemporary Middle East art scene, is actually very French, something that developed during the Age of Reason with Rene Descartes. I fear the idea of giving a name to an area as huge as the Middle East. Edward Said said that the Orient starts in Rabat and goes to Tokyo. So I don’t regard my work as being inside of or beyond any frontiers or boundaries of the Middle East.
Kaelen Wilson-Goldie: In the period after 9/11, and before all the new museum projects were announced in the Gulf, institutions in Europe and North America seemed to become, very suddenly, interested in doing exhibitions of contemporary art from the Middle East. How have you grappled with that interest in your work? Have you tried to frustrate or complicate the expectations involved?
Kader Attia: I don’t try to fulfil or frustrate any expectations. When I am invited to participate in an exhibition, should it deal with religion or the Middle East, or with any other theme, I first read the statement of the curator and see if he or she tries to tackle questions that seem interesting to me, or that I feel linked to. That will be the reason why I take part in a project. I have to feel 100 per cent concerned by what the curator is trying to do. As an artist, my main concern is to raise questions, with no specificity of geographical area or religious background, even if these areas and religions are part of who I am. This will show through my work, but not ina literal way.
Wael Shawky: I have been involved in many shows under the banner of Middle Eastern art, Islamic art, etc. And I have started to refuse to take part in them. Many artists now are doing the same. Because of 9/11, this interest touches the political or religious aspects I’m using in my work. But it’s because I’m coming from this religious background in Mecca that my work is dealing with these topics, so I don’t think I feel the problem myself. At the same time, of course, I have to reject this interest, as a political position.
Kaelen Wilson-Goldie: Let’s look at the rise of these museum projects in the Gulf, such as the Guggenheim and the Louvre in Abu Dhabi, and Mathaf, the Arab Museum of Modern Art in Doha, and also the new sources of funding for production in the region, such as the Sharjah Art Foundation’s programme or the number of commissions for the Sharjah Biennial, for Art Dubai or for the opening of Mathaf. The focus of Mathaf’s collection is on twentieth-century modernism, but it opened in December with the exhibition ‘Told/UntoId/Retold’, which featured 23 newly commissioned works by artists“with roots” in the region. If your work were to be acquired by these museums and added to their permanent collections, would you feel that it would be at home there, however loaded the term home may be?
Vasif Kortun: I thought you were going to be facetious and say, would you feel your works would be marginalised! From the way I look at it, it is better for an artist’s work to be ina regional public collection than in the Tate Collection.
Wael Shawky: I don’t have a problem with that, honestly. I don’t even have a problem if these museums organise those kinds of shows with Middle Eastern themes that I was just talking about, because I think it’s very important to start with this, somehow. Then, in time, it will change. I think it’s fine. Contemporary art in this region in general is very, very new, and I believe it is important to start somewhere, with something, even if it’s not perfect.
Kader Attia: For me, it’s also fine. I think it’s another step, as Wael says. I was in Doha for opening of the Museum of Islamic Art in 2008, and I think they did well. What I like very much is that they are doing it step by step. They have built this beautiful museum designed by IM Pei, and they have the collection. Even if the works have been seen before, this new dynamism is now visible. But to answer your question, I think all artworks, mine or those of other artists from any background, are at home in any museum of the world.
Kaelen Wilson-Goldie. How would you compare the Gulf museum projects
with the Modern Art Museum of Algeria (MAMA), which opened in 2007?
Kader Attia: I support the MAMA. Algeria has a lot of problems with
fundamentalists, especially in the south now, and it’s a country that only
recently came out of a civil war. The fact that the government invested
money in culture is very important. It’s more than a sign, it’s real. When
the MAMA opened, it was amazing to see the people who came. There
was a great sense of energy. I think the director, Mohammed Djehiche,
is very open-minded and is really aware of how difficult it is today to
show contemporary art in a country like Algeria. My involvement with
the museum is not just as an artist; I’ve also been asked to propose
curatorial projects. Nevertheless, in relation to what I said earlier about
the tight space available for criticism of the political system in Arab
countries, I think showing political contemporary art in the MAMA
is going to be a difficult job for everyone. Let’s see…
vasıf kortun 