Tell me a story
"Tell Me a Story"
Flash Art , Milan, mai-juin 1998, p. 69
Reflection on the strategies of narration is, without a doubt, one of the biggest
themes of the contemporary cultural debate and art, too, has something to say
about it. Having lost the possibility to create great stories and far-reaching
epic poems, one of the most practiced paths to establish a connection to the
world is, in fact, the personal story that arises from the narrating subject.
In art, this is the great heritage of women artists beginning in the seventies.
At that time it was a question of a transgressive practice, far from the spotlight,
of either pop, or mannered formalism. In the nineties, after the mythologies
and heroisms of the previous decade, it has become an almost unavoidable condition.
"Tell me a story" chooses to place itself in a strange position from
where it is allowed to discard many commonplaces on this topic. Here narration
is not required to unfold in time, nor be temporal in nature and hence "Tell
me a story" does not smother us in an avalanche of videos. As confirmed
by Yves Aupetitallot, co-curator of the show (together with Alessandra Galasso)
in his text for the exhibition catalogue, one of the criteria for selecting
works, was, in fact, the still linage. As spectators, this offers the possibility
to imagine what has happened just before, creating a form of freedom, that can
contribute to the break down of over exploited clichés that accrue to
this matter. Besides being good examples of nineties' painting, Elizabeth Peyton,
Daniele Galliano, John Miller, Hans-Jörg Mayer, and James Rielly, are also
good examples of this fracture. This suspension of history allows the return
of the unconscious (the dreams of Jean-Jacques Rullier and Jim Shaw), and the
rediscovering of a surrealist matrix (Xavier Veilhan, Martino Coppes, Ah Hassoun).
Both are approaches lend themselves to narration. Truly placed in the background
by 'Tell me a story," are those aspects that concern themselves with the
autobiographical condition of narrating (aspects that are only present in Carrie
Mae Weems, timidly exposed without the contour of a context). Instead of giving
voice to the narratives neglected by history, the show's objective seems to
be to reinforce the narratives of those whose voices have never had trouble
being heard. The exhibition is not willing to give space to different narratives
that can become important, even on a political level, as in the show "New
Histories" recently held at the ICA in Boston, where these problems were
placed at the forefront. Barely forcing the discourse, we find a (temporary)
answer in the title of the photo-mural work titled An attack on literature.
Made by the Canadian artist Ian Wallace in 1975 this is the only seventies work
on show. Perhaps, with Attack on Literature they intend, paradoxically, to question,
from the inside, the assumptions of the show. And this explains what follows
hence.
Emanueal De Cecco