Deniz Gül
18
Dec 09
Biennial Time
Biennial Time
DENİZ GÜL
September 2009
This year, the biennial theme chosen by curators WHW (What, How, and for Whom) and the sponsorship of Koc Holding have come under the greatest criticism. What, How, and for Whom – pretty thought, provoking and demanding questions, aren’t they? It’s like they’re providing an integrated marketing communication through an ad campaign.) Accordingly, Koc has chosen the phrase “What is robbing a bank compared to founding a bank?” for its publicity campaign. (Koc owns a bank and, rightly so, pays attention to capital.) And so, WHW answers the question of who this biennial is for in the give-and-take of modern times. We are in the free market under all circumstances and that what is important is the message we send and the effort that we show, is how they deal with the criticism. Avantgard is dead; that’s the truth.
Physical and concrete data have been continuously debated: what is what in the What question, and who the sides are and which has the advantage in the Who question. These two questions in particular are inclined to further the status quo; the difference between them is just methodology. The way in which an action is carried out can change everything. Conseqently, I am interested in the How question.
Vehbi Koc, the honorary president of Koc Holding, sent a letter to the coupist president Kenan Evren on 3 October 1980. After praising Evren’s support of the coup d’etat and the victory of the army, writing “The actions taken by the Turkish army are entirely rightful,” Koc goes on to give the president some advice. He warns, “You may be exhausted, but do not avoid exhausting tasks. If the army is worn out by poor decisions, dictatorship, followed by communism, could take hold in this country.” Ali Bilge and Ömer Madra, in their talk entitled “The Business World and State Relations in Turkey” continue quoting Koc, who says,
“the trials of the anarchists must not be prolonged one moment, laws to punish them must be crafted swiftly, and the police corps’ facilities must be improved. Whatever can be done to this effect must be done as quickly as possible. Otherwise propaganda declaring that ‘the fascist army has come to power, uniting with the capitalists to exploit the Turkish worker’ will be produced. To prevent this slander, laws to sort out employer-employee relations must be crafted as soon as possible. Those hoping for the closing of the Confederation of Revolutionary Trade Unions of Turkey must be relieved of their ambitions.Severence pay must be collected in a special fund. After setting apart the amount that will be paid to workers, the remainder must be made available for public and private investement at low interest rates.”
He believes the coup of 12 September to be reform movement, saying, for example, that “In order for the movement to be successful, bear in mind the continued malevolent efforts of communist parties, leftist organizations, Kurds, Armenians, and a number of politicians; stay alert and obstruct their enterprises.” Leftist organizations, Kurds, and Armenians!
In what context must Koc’s words be evaluated? This in regard should have been the biennial’s biggest question. Despite the biennial’s opening date as 12 September (as the anniversary of the coup d’etat) and the invitation of artists in their 20s and 30s from Iran and the Caucausus who are investigating communism, revolutionism, and collapse, the lack of involvement of artists asking questions on such issues in Turkey is truly unfortunate, disheartening, and erroneous. What a pity that this biennial, a product of us all, presents a such a narrow perspective on Turkey. The biennial, which opens on the anniversary of the coup ans such related issues, leaves out the period which upset the balance in Turkey as if no class struggle ever happened.
As for the other artworks that were involved in the selection, as Stephen Wright has said, a large majority of the artists follow agenda from behind. As usual, Stephen Wright speaks well in his discourse. However, I have recently been to the Caucausus region and have seen the societal and political structure in Yerevan, the strikes in the streets, and I could have thought that people went out for walks in the parks as the video of Karen Andreassian shows. But, not really. Is this an error (as mentioned by the discourse of Wright) in the collective memory of the place as reported by Andreassian, who was born in Yerevan?
Again, we could have thought of the “web of history elementary school exhibition and research” being carried out in the Gulensu and Gulsuyu neighborhoods of Istanbul, within the scope of the biennial, as an unromanticized process absorbing its adjacancies, as its participants have explained. But, no. I do not think that those like me, who have kept up with the transformation in Istanbul, and that particular district over the past three years have been convinced as to why the area was chosen as a work site, what were the benefits of the “socially engaged art project” and their exit strategy. Likewise, academic circles have adopted oral history projects and urban inventory documentation as research methods in for over ten years.
There are two circumstances in which artists, as much as curators, encounter problems and are left helpless: first, “becoming the representation itself”, and second, “skipping out the specificity of art”. The Antrepo, as an exercise in the collection of art, is a performance which does not live up to Brecht’s writings. The first disappointing work that comes to mind is the “café,” the shanty town, Nuclear Bomb Shelter Plan, installations which cannot justify their own state of being. The enormous red grandstand (apparently a copy of a piece belonging to the government of Belarus) whose size dominates the space, meanwhile, acts as its own representation. The installation of Aydan Murtezaoğlu and Bulent Sangar, which featured a girl spraying perfume and a team folding t-shirts, was unable to move out of the cognitive dimension and establish a dialogue with the viewer, ending up stuck in the same quagmire. Could this state of affairs have been knowingly chosen by the curators? Did they want the exhibition to be read like a book, to reflect the spirit of an age?
Fortunately, the Tobacco Depot held some works mindful of representation and artists willing and able to transport the viewer to other places and other questions. Jesse Jones, for example, questions the marginality of political movements and the crisis of valid political action in contemporary post-utopic society, rightly criticizing notions of false freedom with his absorbing istallation. Jinooz Taghizadeh, working with newspapers collected during the revolutionary period in Iran, has created beautiful, simple works touching on many topics. Overall, it seems that the artists are sad, hopeless, and entirely disgusted with the world.
After all, in order for the approach to be transformative, it is necessary to find a narrative that inspires a desire to read. The curators accept it as such.
In taking Brecht as a starting position for developing the Biennial concept, the question of method is crucial. Is it possible to follow Brecht while disregarding his contemporary image of a Che Guevara of the academic Left, or a canonical author of the traditional orthodox Left, nonchalantly paying no attention to 'brechtology' and an apparent cul-de-sac in which countless reinventions of his experiments have ended? Is it possible, instead, to follow Brecht as a kind of (red) thread that leads the way in a search of a form and format for the exhibition, which would be, so to speak, 'beyond looking,' and could transform a viewer into a more productive participant-even accomplice?
This question is theoretical rather than concrete. But the suggestion, stuck in didactics, addresses How this system is implemented. Why doesn’t a cognitive framework so closely interested in the economy, culture, and art production question the economic interests provided for by the exhibition mechanism itself. Must it ask questions absently, following Brecht like a red thread, commenting on yesterday repeatedly in such a didatic manner? Could a team interested in these questions, caught up in its work, distributing its production budget, crafting its exhibition and strategy, ever be able to suggest a different Biennial Economy? An Istanbul Bienial without exhibits? Instead of representation, could an exhibition mechanism mobilize and, much like Brecht, “deconstruct and transform the production apparatus”? The exhibition manifesto says,
Brecht invites us to rethink our position again and again, to see the world as amateur actors, without dulling our critical faculties or our potential for intervention and change by learning the rules all too well. As a writer and a director, Brecht continuously sought to slice open and display, then deconstruct and transform the theatre's 'production apparatus'-it is this approach that should lead us out of the current deadlock of 'contemporary art apparatus.' At this time, the question of 'usability' of Brecht means first and foremost a repeated need to observe the interaction of art and social relations.
This is the part that succeeds in its aims and strikes close to home. Why aren’t artists in this country counseled to carry out their projects like this? Why are we resigned to the damnation of passive viewing? I ask because I am an “artist” who feels she cannot serve herself. When I wake up every morning and ask myself “Do I serve a purpose?” in order to motivate myself to deal with art, I do more than lament, seeing the lack of space for art in this country. How horrible that this comes down to an existential crisis every time. Let’s leave aside our lofty understanding of art and our attempts to make Istanbul a world star. Could the exhibition, the opening, and parties bring forth the moral and material dialogue necessary to create a beneficial effect that would reach the public? This is a situation unique to the Istanbul market. In the rest of the world even the most ordinary exhibits have a meaningful place and are followed not only by artists but also by the public (without fanfare), as much as advertising, fashion, design, architecture, and the other creative industries. Here there are galerists who do not go other gallery openings, collectors who buy art based on advice without going to exhibitions, artists who do not visit the Biennial, a nouveau-riche creative industry which looks down upon contemporary art, a system which has separated political art from apolitical art, etc.
In economics what is demanded is created. In my opinion the artist, as much as the entire ecosystem, has a responsibility to create this demand. If there is no ground we shall create it, if these is no demand we shall insist, if there is no question we shall ask. Frankly, it is exceedingly important and no less difficult to do what your discourse is and to check whether you have done what you said, to forge a language step by step, to be continuous, to be able to vouch for yourself, and to create meaning. Am I able to do these things? That is the effect the Biennial Time generally has on me. Yes, I can do some, but no, I cannot do most. Another obstacle here is this: There is no outsider, no critique, no judgement (preferably professional) to tell you that your words and deeds, or one deed and another, contradict each other. This, in the end, means that you will struggle piteously with yourself.
Getting used to the use of struggling with yourself… First, even if it takes longer, you see that at the end of the road there is nothing besides yourself. Second, from the moment you realize this, you see everything differently, including yourself. Third, you learn that your motivation, both artistic and vital, is not the economy or system which forces your hand, but the chance to create and to share your world view with the others. This can make you strong and free.
The downside of stuggling with yourself, however, is that you are less able to see your desires, or even unable to see them at all! To be able to act naturally, without struggling with inclination, tendency, or identity is as valuable as desire, interest, curiousity, or appetite. The left side of this equation belongs to the place while the right side is the demand’s. The rest is construct.
Note: During the opening party at the Antrepo a young guy was pulled into a room and beaten up by a bodyguard. During another biennial party at a club called XL a woman was assaulted in the open and dragged out the door. These events went unnoticed and were paid no heed in order to prevent a brawl.
Deniz Gul is a visual artist and writer. She lives and works in İstanbul
www.denizgul.com
DENİZ GÜL
September 2009
This year, the biennial theme chosen by curators WHW (What, How, and for Whom) and the sponsorship of Koc Holding have come under the greatest criticism. What, How, and for Whom – pretty thought, provoking and demanding questions, aren’t they? It’s like they’re providing an integrated marketing communication through an ad campaign.) Accordingly, Koc has chosen the phrase “What is robbing a bank compared to founding a bank?” for its publicity campaign. (Koc owns a bank and, rightly so, pays attention to capital.) And so, WHW answers the question of who this biennial is for in the give-and-take of modern times. We are in the free market under all circumstances and that what is important is the message we send and the effort that we show, is how they deal with the criticism. Avantgard is dead; that’s the truth.
Physical and concrete data have been continuously debated: what is what in the What question, and who the sides are and which has the advantage in the Who question. These two questions in particular are inclined to further the status quo; the difference between them is just methodology. The way in which an action is carried out can change everything. Conseqently, I am interested in the How question.
Vehbi Koc, the honorary president of Koc Holding, sent a letter to the coupist president Kenan Evren on 3 October 1980. After praising Evren’s support of the coup d’etat and the victory of the army, writing “The actions taken by the Turkish army are entirely rightful,” Koc goes on to give the president some advice. He warns, “You may be exhausted, but do not avoid exhausting tasks. If the army is worn out by poor decisions, dictatorship, followed by communism, could take hold in this country.” Ali Bilge and Ömer Madra, in their talk entitled “The Business World and State Relations in Turkey” continue quoting Koc, who says,
“the trials of the anarchists must not be prolonged one moment, laws to punish them must be crafted swiftly, and the police corps’ facilities must be improved. Whatever can be done to this effect must be done as quickly as possible. Otherwise propaganda declaring that ‘the fascist army has come to power, uniting with the capitalists to exploit the Turkish worker’ will be produced. To prevent this slander, laws to sort out employer-employee relations must be crafted as soon as possible. Those hoping for the closing of the Confederation of Revolutionary Trade Unions of Turkey must be relieved of their ambitions.Severence pay must be collected in a special fund. After setting apart the amount that will be paid to workers, the remainder must be made available for public and private investement at low interest rates.”
He believes the coup of 12 September to be reform movement, saying, for example, that “In order for the movement to be successful, bear in mind the continued malevolent efforts of communist parties, leftist organizations, Kurds, Armenians, and a number of politicians; stay alert and obstruct their enterprises.” Leftist organizations, Kurds, and Armenians!
In what context must Koc’s words be evaluated? This in regard should have been the biennial’s biggest question. Despite the biennial’s opening date as 12 September (as the anniversary of the coup d’etat) and the invitation of artists in their 20s and 30s from Iran and the Caucausus who are investigating communism, revolutionism, and collapse, the lack of involvement of artists asking questions on such issues in Turkey is truly unfortunate, disheartening, and erroneous. What a pity that this biennial, a product of us all, presents a such a narrow perspective on Turkey. The biennial, which opens on the anniversary of the coup ans such related issues, leaves out the period which upset the balance in Turkey as if no class struggle ever happened.
As for the other artworks that were involved in the selection, as Stephen Wright has said, a large majority of the artists follow agenda from behind. As usual, Stephen Wright speaks well in his discourse. However, I have recently been to the Caucausus region and have seen the societal and political structure in Yerevan, the strikes in the streets, and I could have thought that people went out for walks in the parks as the video of Karen Andreassian shows. But, not really. Is this an error (as mentioned by the discourse of Wright) in the collective memory of the place as reported by Andreassian, who was born in Yerevan?
Again, we could have thought of the “web of history elementary school exhibition and research” being carried out in the Gulensu and Gulsuyu neighborhoods of Istanbul, within the scope of the biennial, as an unromanticized process absorbing its adjacancies, as its participants have explained. But, no. I do not think that those like me, who have kept up with the transformation in Istanbul, and that particular district over the past three years have been convinced as to why the area was chosen as a work site, what were the benefits of the “socially engaged art project” and their exit strategy. Likewise, academic circles have adopted oral history projects and urban inventory documentation as research methods in for over ten years.
There are two circumstances in which artists, as much as curators, encounter problems and are left helpless: first, “becoming the representation itself”, and second, “skipping out the specificity of art”. The Antrepo, as an exercise in the collection of art, is a performance which does not live up to Brecht’s writings. The first disappointing work that comes to mind is the “café,” the shanty town, Nuclear Bomb Shelter Plan, installations which cannot justify their own state of being. The enormous red grandstand (apparently a copy of a piece belonging to the government of Belarus) whose size dominates the space, meanwhile, acts as its own representation. The installation of Aydan Murtezaoğlu and Bulent Sangar, which featured a girl spraying perfume and a team folding t-shirts, was unable to move out of the cognitive dimension and establish a dialogue with the viewer, ending up stuck in the same quagmire. Could this state of affairs have been knowingly chosen by the curators? Did they want the exhibition to be read like a book, to reflect the spirit of an age?
Fortunately, the Tobacco Depot held some works mindful of representation and artists willing and able to transport the viewer to other places and other questions. Jesse Jones, for example, questions the marginality of political movements and the crisis of valid political action in contemporary post-utopic society, rightly criticizing notions of false freedom with his absorbing istallation. Jinooz Taghizadeh, working with newspapers collected during the revolutionary period in Iran, has created beautiful, simple works touching on many topics. Overall, it seems that the artists are sad, hopeless, and entirely disgusted with the world.
After all, in order for the approach to be transformative, it is necessary to find a narrative that inspires a desire to read. The curators accept it as such.
In taking Brecht as a starting position for developing the Biennial concept, the question of method is crucial. Is it possible to follow Brecht while disregarding his contemporary image of a Che Guevara of the academic Left, or a canonical author of the traditional orthodox Left, nonchalantly paying no attention to 'brechtology' and an apparent cul-de-sac in which countless reinventions of his experiments have ended? Is it possible, instead, to follow Brecht as a kind of (red) thread that leads the way in a search of a form and format for the exhibition, which would be, so to speak, 'beyond looking,' and could transform a viewer into a more productive participant-even accomplice?
This question is theoretical rather than concrete. But the suggestion, stuck in didactics, addresses How this system is implemented. Why doesn’t a cognitive framework so closely interested in the economy, culture, and art production question the economic interests provided for by the exhibition mechanism itself. Must it ask questions absently, following Brecht like a red thread, commenting on yesterday repeatedly in such a didatic manner? Could a team interested in these questions, caught up in its work, distributing its production budget, crafting its exhibition and strategy, ever be able to suggest a different Biennial Economy? An Istanbul Bienial without exhibits? Instead of representation, could an exhibition mechanism mobilize and, much like Brecht, “deconstruct and transform the production apparatus”? The exhibition manifesto says,
Brecht invites us to rethink our position again and again, to see the world as amateur actors, without dulling our critical faculties or our potential for intervention and change by learning the rules all too well. As a writer and a director, Brecht continuously sought to slice open and display, then deconstruct and transform the theatre's 'production apparatus'-it is this approach that should lead us out of the current deadlock of 'contemporary art apparatus.' At this time, the question of 'usability' of Brecht means first and foremost a repeated need to observe the interaction of art and social relations.
This is the part that succeeds in its aims and strikes close to home. Why aren’t artists in this country counseled to carry out their projects like this? Why are we resigned to the damnation of passive viewing? I ask because I am an “artist” who feels she cannot serve herself. When I wake up every morning and ask myself “Do I serve a purpose?” in order to motivate myself to deal with art, I do more than lament, seeing the lack of space for art in this country. How horrible that this comes down to an existential crisis every time. Let’s leave aside our lofty understanding of art and our attempts to make Istanbul a world star. Could the exhibition, the opening, and parties bring forth the moral and material dialogue necessary to create a beneficial effect that would reach the public? This is a situation unique to the Istanbul market. In the rest of the world even the most ordinary exhibits have a meaningful place and are followed not only by artists but also by the public (without fanfare), as much as advertising, fashion, design, architecture, and the other creative industries. Here there are galerists who do not go other gallery openings, collectors who buy art based on advice without going to exhibitions, artists who do not visit the Biennial, a nouveau-riche creative industry which looks down upon contemporary art, a system which has separated political art from apolitical art, etc.
In economics what is demanded is created. In my opinion the artist, as much as the entire ecosystem, has a responsibility to create this demand. If there is no ground we shall create it, if these is no demand we shall insist, if there is no question we shall ask. Frankly, it is exceedingly important and no less difficult to do what your discourse is and to check whether you have done what you said, to forge a language step by step, to be continuous, to be able to vouch for yourself, and to create meaning. Am I able to do these things? That is the effect the Biennial Time generally has on me. Yes, I can do some, but no, I cannot do most. Another obstacle here is this: There is no outsider, no critique, no judgement (preferably professional) to tell you that your words and deeds, or one deed and another, contradict each other. This, in the end, means that you will struggle piteously with yourself.
Getting used to the use of struggling with yourself… First, even if it takes longer, you see that at the end of the road there is nothing besides yourself. Second, from the moment you realize this, you see everything differently, including yourself. Third, you learn that your motivation, both artistic and vital, is not the economy or system which forces your hand, but the chance to create and to share your world view with the others. This can make you strong and free.
The downside of stuggling with yourself, however, is that you are less able to see your desires, or even unable to see them at all! To be able to act naturally, without struggling with inclination, tendency, or identity is as valuable as desire, interest, curiousity, or appetite. The left side of this equation belongs to the place while the right side is the demand’s. The rest is construct.
Note: During the opening party at the Antrepo a young guy was pulled into a room and beaten up by a bodyguard. During another biennial party at a club called XL a woman was assaulted in the open and dragged out the door. These events went unnoticed and were paid no heed in order to prevent a brawl.
Deniz Gul is a visual artist and writer. She lives and works in İstanbul
www.denizgul.com
19
Nov 09
Untitled Series 2009 / İade-i Ziyaret. Acilis: 20 Kasim Cuma, Tütün Deposu
Endam Acar, Selda Asal, Volkan Aslan, Fatma Çiftçi, Zeren Göktan, Deniz Gül, Gözde İlkin, Ceren Oykut, Gökçe Süvari ve Sophia Tabatadze, Nisan 2009’da Türkiye'nin doğu sınırları Gürcistan, Ermenistan, Azerbaycan ve İran’a gittiler; otobüs, tren ve minibüs gibi ulaşım araçlarıyla sınır geçtiler; kendi ilgi alanlarinda hikayeler topladılar.
Deniz Gül, bu bölgelerde tanıştığı insanlarla günlük rutinde politika üzerine, "Özgür ifadeye ulaşma adına nasıl başkaldırılar var?" sorusuyla diyaloglar kurmaya çabaldı. Döndükten sonra, yolculuk sirasinda topladigi sesleri, tanıklık ettiği tartışma, konuşma ve isyanları, TV ve radyodan kayıt aldığı haberleri, kafasında biriken sesleri ve tüm bu süreci yaşarken oluşturduğu içsel diyaloglarını yazmaya başladı. Gül'ün, topladığı hikayeleri dilsel bir hafızayı açığa çıkartarak gün be gün oluşturduğu, kendi içinde dönüşümler yaşayan metin dizisi, duvar üzerinde art arda buluşturduğu A5 kağıtlardan okunabilir.
Farklı malzemelerden doğan çeşitli anlatımlar ve katılımcıların yolda giderken, durdukları, kaldıkları ve ziyaret ettikleri yerlerde ürettikleri çizim, fotoğraf, video, yazı, etkileşim ve konuşmalarından oluşan çalışmalar, 20 Kasım - 31 Aralık tarihlerinde Tütün Deposu'nda.
28
Oct 09
Welcome Little İstanbul
Türkçe bir soru: Pardon Siz Kimsiniz, Avusturya Graz'da bir okula yayın yapan radyoya, İstanbul'dan gönderdiğim iki ses kaydıyla giderek büyüyen, tepki alan, tepki veren bir proje olarak gelişmekte. Ses kayıtları Almanca, Türkçe arasında gidip gelen diyaloglar halinde, 27-28 ve 17-18 yaş arası iki grup genç tarafından yönlendiriliyor. Avrupa ve Türkiye'de Türk ve Alamancı olma durumlarını eğitim sistemi üzerinden tartıştıkları ırk, cinsiyet, din ve daha birçok konunun önyargı ve yargılarla ifade edildiği bir ses enstalsyonu. Aynı zamanda Welcome Little İstanbul isimli bir serginin parçası.
Daha fazla bilgi burada:
http://welcome-little-istanbul.at/blog-detail/items/ausstellungsansichten.html
26
Oct 09
untitled 20
Elveda çok yürüdü. Tereler havalanmış, ayakları hafiflemiş, alnı nem almıştı.
Gün boyunca düş gördü anneciğim. Bağrını kimse delmedi, bir garip hülyada omzu rahatsız. Geçecektir, anlayış gösterin.
O mercanlı bir köşktü. bir gavur naşında arasta, he mercan, he böyle miydi bu çocuk?
Rica ederim Mösyö Crocart. Ayaklarınızı bağrımdan toplayın ve bir meze taşı gibi defolun zehre bu evden. Feryemiş bir işgal geçiyor fikrinizin üstünden.
Altı ter dostuz her, önü or seni iter.
Ah anneciğim,
Boynun kısa ağlıyorsun
Fark etmeden kıyamet kopuyoruz
Yanaklarımdan öpüyorsun.
Yanakların bir alev harlıyor. Ateş parlıyor yanakların. Yanakların sıcak, paçasız. Yanakların yün kanı emmiş; kalbi, damarı, karnı yarık.
Atıyor gül, tasında kasnağı, bir milim çevresinde açıyor ruhunu. Arlı duruyor; ıska etsin, kuru on yıl var, var yaşıyor bu halde, üssüz, donsuz, ormansız.
Elhamdürüllah afiyette izliyorlar gidişini.
Elveda çok yerindeydi, niçin çok yürüdü? Ne uyuz bir otel bu. Hiç mi çekincesi yok hayattan? Hiç mi heycanı tar-ı.
Tirtir titriyor mösyö, titrir tit yahu. titr aşikâr hatrına.
Ah şimdi anlıyorum, baştan söyleseydiniz ya.
Böyle şeyler söylenmez mösyö, dört kişiye yer yok oyunda.
Üçümüz hayat sert ve köşe dön duvar pek yazık
Eeh çok uzattın artık
hesabı alalım yeğenim,
Bi çok sevdiğin tablen kül ve resmin mahzun anneciğim.
Oyun kıymet kopuyoruz herşeyden.
Şevkat ve şevk, Allah’a yolla beni. Allah yoksa Feryemiş? Biz nereden geldik ve kimdik ki tanıştık senle? Bana hayat bağlar de.
Elveda de. Dön arkanı yürü istemem.
yanaklarımdan öptün zaten.
Bana hesap ödeme
Gün boyunca düş gördü anneciğim. Bağrını kimse delmedi, bir garip hülyada omzu rahatsız. Geçecektir, anlayış gösterin.
O mercanlı bir köşktü. bir gavur naşında arasta, he mercan, he böyle miydi bu çocuk?
Rica ederim Mösyö Crocart. Ayaklarınızı bağrımdan toplayın ve bir meze taşı gibi defolun zehre bu evden. Feryemiş bir işgal geçiyor fikrinizin üstünden.
Altı ter dostuz her, önü or seni iter.
Ah anneciğim,
Boynun kısa ağlıyorsun
Fark etmeden kıyamet kopuyoruz
Yanaklarımdan öpüyorsun.
Yanakların bir alev harlıyor. Ateş parlıyor yanakların. Yanakların sıcak, paçasız. Yanakların yün kanı emmiş; kalbi, damarı, karnı yarık.
Atıyor gül, tasında kasnağı, bir milim çevresinde açıyor ruhunu. Arlı duruyor; ıska etsin, kuru on yıl var, var yaşıyor bu halde, üssüz, donsuz, ormansız.
Elhamdürüllah afiyette izliyorlar gidişini.
Elveda çok yerindeydi, niçin çok yürüdü? Ne uyuz bir otel bu. Hiç mi çekincesi yok hayattan? Hiç mi heycanı tar-ı.
Tirtir titriyor mösyö, titrir tit yahu. titr aşikâr hatrına.
Ah şimdi anlıyorum, baştan söyleseydiniz ya.
Böyle şeyler söylenmez mösyö, dört kişiye yer yok oyunda.
Üçümüz hayat sert ve köşe dön duvar pek yazık
Eeh çok uzattın artık
hesabı alalım yeğenim,
Bi çok sevdiğin tablen kül ve resmin mahzun anneciğim.
Oyun kıymet kopuyoruz herşeyden.
Şevkat ve şevk, Allah’a yolla beni. Allah yoksa Feryemiş? Biz nereden geldik ve kimdik ki tanıştık senle? Bana hayat bağlar de.
Elveda de. Dön arkanı yürü istemem.
yanaklarımdan öptün zaten.
Bana hesap ödeme
26
Sep 09
in english: Notes on Immaterial Labour
Deniz Gül and Burak Arıkan: Notes on Immaterial Labour
Saturday, 25th April 2009
the Suriye Arcade, Istanbul
Deniz Gül: It all began a few months ago with me getting sick and tired of the images, works, movies, exhibitions I was watching... So, what are we doing? In such a crisis of over- production, while probably repeating ourselves, what are we doing? The never existing art criticism- that nobody's writing about what we do, we becoming writers and narrating once again of the things we do... We should open the process of making art to debate, make it visible. Let us educate us, expose what we are doing and discuss them. Borga Kantürk who watched my blog entries on such issues, invited me and I invited Burak Arıkan to speak up these issues. Our context is on art production, art product, art system, art economy, art service and immaterial labour in a general sense. How do copy pasting, distribution of art, and the reality that is shaped around this visual world affects our understanding of the artistic production? Burak Arıkan is an artist who is working on systems, and he uses the Internet to be of his sources as he collects data. This is not an artist presentation, thus we would like this conversation to move on with your questions and comments. Throughout the conversation, we're going to focus on the relationship between artistic production and immaterial labour and how this relationship evolves. Let's start with the classic expression "immaterial labour".
Burak Arıkan: In my work I've been focusing on the contemporary concepts of immaterial labour for some time. First, I'll try to explain what do I understand from immaterial labour, then it's position in cultural production. Immaterial labour is, in a nutshell, "labour that is not material". Maurizio Lazzarato puts it as "the labour that produces the informational and cultural concent of the commodity." We are long past the concept of "manual labour", which is the labour of the "factory worker" as a typical example. We're living in a service economy; workers today, from resturants to banks, produce information consequent to their labour. In their book "Empire" Antonio Negri and Michael Hardt name everything that is done in service industry as immaterial labour. However, Lazzarato divides immaterial labour into two types: 1) the informational work done during official work hours, 2) the kinds of activities involved in defining and fixing cultural and artistic standards, fashions, tastes, consumer norms, and, more strategically, public opinion --the product of the labour in the midst of social life. For example, I may have Nike shoes on, and show them to a friend, who may then buy a pair of his own. By recommending my shoes, I generate value for the Nike Company, for free.
Deniz Gül: We're talking about a series of events that are not considered as labour, but are referring to immaterial products and events that produce cultural content. In other words, the labour that defines and shapes the cultural and artistic standards, fashion, tastes, consumer norms and public opinion. Here is the question we've been discussing for days: Why are we relating artistic production to immaterial labour?
Burak Arıkan: The time for work and leisure is not clearly divided in an artist’s life. Moreover, the idea of "life as art" is being discussed since the Fluxus. So if life is the [art] product, what is it worth? There's a natural ambiguity in the division of the material and immaterial of an artist's work. Elmas Deniz gave an example a recently: An artist participating in the Istanbul Biennial gets a small fee, however his artwork is brought from Zurich with a huge insurance. Which shareholders hide in this sum? What sort of tumult is this Biennial system that the gap between an artist's allowance and price of his work are so far apart? We need to look more closely at the role of the artist within art economies.
Deniz Gül: Let's assume that a sponsor company spares around $100.000 for an exhibition and gives you $1.000 for production. Artist fees are not usually paid - it might depend on who you are. You might be provided with a residence and flight tickets perhaps. Do we know in any sense how the budget is distributed or how the artist benefits from the value that he creates? Not really. The value of production might be materializing in 10 years for the artist; or maybe never. We're talking about an unknown, uncontrolled environment. Briefly we are going to discuss this uncertain environment, which is being altered with the Internet, today. The role that is bestowed upon the artist or the mediator has changed with the Internet economy, where things have started to happen in different production cycles. People themselves create the environment today, they use it and re-create to re-use it. The value that was produced in between the producer, the mediator and the consumer is today realized between the producer and the consumer where the mediator "falls off". Alex Bruns calls this "produsage", where the production and consumption happen at the same time-space, where things co-exist. Today, the content, the information, the expression and the experience accumulates in multi-layered environments with a lot of users. The question is: How does today's culture industry adjust to the Internet economy? Burak has a proposition: We can measure the immaterial labour and this can change things. How will the Internet evolve and affect the art production? What possibilities will it provide to the artist?
Burak Arıkan: In The Society of Spectacle (1967) Guy Debord says, “The spectacle is not a collection of images, but a social relation among people, mediated by images.” Today, the spectacle is digitally measurable. In the past, what happened in the social life was confined to the physical world only. Now, what happens is that it can be recorded so that the information that can be re-used over and over again. For instance, you go to a cafe- take Urban Cafe in Beyoglu- you drink some beer, chat with your friends. You always order the same type of beer. A friend passing by tags along and joins the conversation etc. Normally when things are over, you go home. Now let's say that all you did was recorded. Who ordered what, when and how many does s/he order in every visit, what was spoken there... Imagine all this data is recorded and stored by the proprietor. That's exactly what happens in the digital social web. Every move you make, e-mails you send, events you join in Facebook, likings, tags, photos, videos, chats... We are living in the digital counterpart of what Guy Debord called the society of spectacle, that is, a recordable and analyzable version. Who is the owner of these nascent values? Who are using them? In the current situation, it's the owners of these platforms, that is Facebook, Youtube, Flickr, Twitter etc. For instance, when you sign up on Facebook for the first time, the agreement says Facebook owns all photographs, information and all digital content you post, it may share it with third parties. Think about your credit card expenses; the location of your expenses, their amounts, your account status during the transaction... Again all your actions are recordable. Amongst banks, third parties involved with them, information shared with marketing companies... With my works, I emphasize this situation to make it more visible. Now, let’s talk about computer mediated social life again. Anybody using Delicious? It's a social bookmark site. In 2005, its owner was asked; "What is your business plan?" He replies: "Users pay us with information." What he says is quite clear: People pay us with information they create. Upon first glance, it makes sense. You use it for free and in return you view advertising. The important question here is this: How much do you put in the system, and how much do you get as a result? It's an issue of the balance, what is given and what is received, which us always vague. The founder of Facebook, in an interview, said in 2007: "Facebook is a commercial-supported service, therefore it's free." It's the television / magazine business model. But Facebook is a 4-5 years-old company, with a value of 15 billion dollars. Think about it, how can capital accumulate in such a speed today?
Deniz Gül: So the capital can grow faster when it can be digitally measured?
Burak Arıkan: Yes. Post-capital or hyper-capital economy engages with digital accumulation, constant gauging, expoitation of spectacle, social networks.
Deniz Gül: Watching the growth of value day by day and being able to calculate it... Why don't you tell us about your MYPOCKET project?
Burak Arıkan: Like I said, what happens on Facebook, happens in banks as well. MYPOCKET is a custom software that predicts what I am going to buy everyday. To make the prediction, the algorithm uses 3 years of bank transactions from my Bank of America account. It runs periodically everyday and openly publishes the actual spendings and the predictions as an RSS feed on the web, so that it can be viewed elsewhere, from mobile phones to social activity streams.
Deniz Gül: How do you benefit from this information?
Burak Arıkan: I don't. Apart from the fact that it poses new questions as an artwork. In fact, it is interesting to me that the project as an artwork lets you ask the "benefit" of it. Ultimately I'm not pursuing the prediction information. The prediction says "You are going to withdraw 40 dollars from the ATM"; I may or may not do this. I create an experiment that is to be observed by others.
Deniz Gül: Ok, but what sort of information do we get out of it? Such awareness, accountability and a well defined environment... What questions are we faced with? Don't we need complex situations?
Burak Arıkan: Of course. But this is not what I mean.
Deniz Gül: You're talking about the right to measure this information - with tracking, interpreting, copying and pasting it in between a range of digital platforms. With it, the artist can demand the accounting of his labour and observe it. On the other hand, the Internet also provides a vast indefiniteness. It's so undefined, so fast and so out of your hands, that the result or the effect of what you create is still undefined. It seems to me that there exists a conflict on each end. You're actually building the content in between the defined and undefined realm. You are reaching out to the audience and becoming a produser of your own content while on the other hand, the impact you create is still out of reach.
Burak Arıkan: What I do in MYPOCKET is causing an experiment, where the subject is myself. As I confirm the software's predictions the algorithm gets better. So the software and I adapt to each other over time. This mutual adaptation is an experiment open to your observation, your view, and your research. I completed my thinking by creating this continuous experiment.
Elmas Deniz: Actually, the information you provide should be purchased... If I am the producer of something, the guess you make -whether if you buy it or not- worths more than anything. This means I can make money.
Deniz Gül: That's where the production is heading after all. The producer foresees the demand for his product before producing it. It's sort of a reverse chain.
Burak Arıkan: MYPOCKET as an ongoing experiment, enables the observation of that reverse chain.
Deniz Gül: And so you're building a system, which collects data and predicts.
Burak Arıkan: Yes. But why am I doing work in such a way? Because I have to, it is urgent to make sense of the life today. I can't do any otherway, while we are inundated by information flows and complexities rise everywhere. Let’s look at how Internet developed since 1969. This diagram you see here with five nodes, was first made in 1969. It's a network diagram showing how several universities in the U.S.A. were connected to each other. Each circle represents an institution. In 1971, the network seems to have expanded. In 1974, the expansion is greater. In 1977, it starts to change into the schematic of a small computer chip. In 1987, Europe is involved as well; communications become intercontinental. By the year 1998, what we see is like the visualization of a brain; lots of small nodes tied up to one another. In 2005, it becomes something that can no longer be visualized. Because we're talking about an environment that is constantly expanding as we speak. It's a living phenomenon. Therefore, in order to be able to make sense of the life regulated by this complexity, I have to create software in my art.
Deniz Gül: The artists who work with systems is not much of a surprise. In physical space, this began after 60s. The work of art as "product" was not enough. Are we actually talking about a totally distinct economy when we are speaking about the Internet?
Burak Arıkan: In the Internet, we simply leave tracks, which generate complexity over time.
Deniz Gül: The artist still has to be in relation with his environment and so is it increasingly unable to be singular? Is it possible to say that the personal or workshop-bound production becomes something completely different? Are you necessitated to co-produce more and more?
Mürvet Türkyılmaz: The interaction of the artist: How does it differ in virtual and physical realm? Talking about the 60s and on... How do you evaluate the shift in social engagement of the artist and his influence on the public? Will there be a need for a physical space to meet still?
Deniz Gül: I think there will always be different realities. Even today, we experience multiple realities simultaneously. Internet has a decentralized nature; you are equally distanced to things although in physical life, you are not. While experiencing the reality in an exhibition hall or socializing in one's own neighbourhood, you track life as well. On one hand, life goes online, on the other hand it goes on in notebooks. I am beginning to think that this is really productive, although it is getting more and more complex. Talking about the artist, I guess we're at a really different point compared to the times where the artist made his work and signed it.
Mürvet Türkyılmaz: The experiment is the transformation of the experience. The artist's venue is the virtual studio or the virtual lab, which one do you prefer?
Burak Arıkan: I don't think there's a separation of physical and virtual today. I can get online via my cell phone right away; I can physically show the blog entry I made yesterday on www.dugumkume.org. See, we can now check the incoming comments. Things are connected, all digital-physical hybrid.
Deniz Gül: The emergence of physical and digital platforms might suggest something that might be named as "multiplied value" -as Burak mentions. That is, on physical means, you are bound to create a surplus, however on the Internet, with an altered sum of recording and measuring- it amounts to multiplied values. There is no physical space anymore; the space is infinite. There is an infinite transmission and manifestation of information in an infinite space. Imagine a child browsing Wikipedia. He might begin his artistic career having seen more images than Man Ray has seen when he was 50. Experiences -not talking about objective information- and expressions are uploaded there. In that environment, we're talking about a completely different reality. Subsequently, we're talking about a multiplied value on a spiritual basis as well. It can be material as Burak suggests but also, there's themultiplied value stemming from stacking accumulation and access.
Burak Arıkan: The most important sign of a "multiplied value" is the fact that a company such as Facebook costing 15 billons dollars in 4-5 years. I can't comprehend how that much capital can accumulate in such a short amount time. In relation to hybridity, if we return to idea of "artwork as a running experiment to observe", we can look at the three outputs of the MYPOCKET project. The first output is a list -- "Transactions Feed", that is, the daily list of the predictions and actualized spendings. Everyday, the list is updated and published online as an RSS feed, which makes the list extra-open for distribution. The second output is a network diagram --"Transactions Graph". It's the diagram of how I built the prediction mechanism. The last output is "predicted receipts", readymades from the future. I keep the receipts from my spendings, if a spending is predicted correctly, I stamp that certain receipt as "predicted". Ultimately predicted receipts are physical products derived from a completely hybrid digital/physical living process
Vahit Tuna: Does the estimation influence you when you are shopping?
Burak Arıkan: Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't...
Orton Akıncı: Do you want the prediction to be successful?
Burak Arıkan: I do, but that's not my desire.
Deniz Gül: You can probably route it.
Burak Arıkan: Making the prediction system better is like adjusting the colours of a photograph to make it look better. But conceptually, it is irrelevant to my desires.
Elmas Deniz: Wouldn't it be horrible? Having almost the same expenses throughout three years. That's terrible.
Burak Arıkan: Yes, but I also think of it as a gift.
Deniz Gül: Wouldn't I be able to estimate what I'm going to buy myself? Why would you need such a program?
Elmas Deniz: This is how much we are able to control, we are aware of it. What is there to do to defend our rights or what are we supposed to do? What is the stance the artist is supposed to take? Can you tell something about this?
Deniz Gül: The theory is that capitalism will soon get to the point where, you drink coffee at Starbucks, and get something in return- because of emerging the qualities you have in you with the qualities the brand offers. With the ability of measuring the input you create for that brand -take Facebook as an example- you will be able to demand it back to a certain extent. Burak tries to show that the economy is evolving in such way. This predicts a terrific shift in artistic production; enabling the artist to control and demand rights for her production.
Elmas Deniz: I am afraid that as an independent artist, you cannot use logos of big corporations in your work. The copyright issues interfere.
Burak Arıkan: It's an old problem.
Elmas Deniz: An old but still persistent problem. On the other hand nothing really works for the artist's benefit.
Deniz Gül: I don't know if we should go into the copyright issues; co-production and collective mind is so common today. That is, you have to use ten software programs and even that's not enough.
Burak Arıkan: In software production one uses libraries made by other people. Abstracted in such a micro scale that it doesn't reveal itself. But in the code you always find references to other people's work.
Deniz Gül: In my opinion, the information you produce melts in that pot somehow and it no longer remains accountable.
Orton Akıncı: I was wondering when the conversation would come to this. It's the first time that the money is being spoken about. Isn't intellectual property the definition of copyright, after all? Capitalism is founded on the object, the material. When you get rid of it, copyright is revealed as the last defender and the last reciprocate of intellectual property. Apart from that, the economy evolves due to the fact that information is becoming the most vital input for production. In fact, criticism of capitalism is the starting point. Lack of the object, the material, is capitalism's antagonist because capitalism can build anything through the object. Credit card as money is the detachment of money from the object. Everything is detaching from object: music as mp3, film as xvid, literature as e-books... This "dematerialization of the world" is the enemy for capitalism. However the only material return capitalism requires is possible by copyright laws. Copyleft is another important concept. Copyright, as it is today, is a product of this economy, of capitalism: Is it really the things given to the artist to resume his production? On the contrary, with the involvement of the culture industry, it became something that produces a surplus, transcending the artist and becoming the source of the culture industry. There is really a nice concept: "Free software". What does "free" mean? It has two meanings for many: When you call something, say, software free, it means for many that it doesn't cost anything. But the statement is different. It's "Free as in speech, not as in beer." Thus we're not talking about money; we're talking about freedom. Something's being costless or not has not much to do with its being free or not. At the end of the day, do we want to charge for what we do? Carlos Basualdo curated an exhibition "Worthless: Invaluable" in Ljubljana. The show asks: "There are two artists; one has a painting in his studio which is worthless. The other has a painting in a museum and it's priceless. How related is what makes them valuable/invaluable with their exchange value? How much of it does the artist want? How necessary is the mediating culture industry? Maybe in the old times, the culture industry that deals with reproduction (multiplication, i will call in fact) and distribution was vital for the cultural productions to reach the masses. However, today while there is something called "Peer to peer" (P2P) I'm not referring to websites- and while the artist can share/distribute his own work through his own self, what do we want in return for what we call immaterial labour when the culture industry is gone?
Deniz Gül: Let's not forget that culture industry is the power that is ruling the world. Hasn't culture industry consolidated itself deep in our bowels?
Elmas Deniz: I gave an example from Britain on the subject yesterday. For almost the past decade, Britain constructed its economy upon culture industry. It's not the artists who think about this or work for this. When the state tries to discern whom to give money, it's the economists who sit at the table. It's the same in Turkey. The middle class will go to a museum, see something there... The taste will improve and then he won't buy just any sofa in the house but a better designed one. Then they'll choose a life style, adopt it and like it... It's seriously lucrative.
Banu Cennetoğlu: The system and the artists are not two separate entities. Those who make it work through museums, exhibitions or galleries are the artists themselves. What sort of difference can you make? The majority is on the other side. One should not refer to a vast and generic crowd as artists. It's a normal thing: It is professional, I can have a gallery - I can buy and sell. Apart from this, not many artists have much of plight to change or save the world. So, where are we standing? Talking to whom? Where's the majority? This has to be observed. Ultimately, it's us who feed this system. You are not involved in one exhibition, then you are accepting the next...
Deniz Gül: Are we reaching to a state where we can leave this cycle? I just don't want to an exhibition or anything. Who cares? On the other hand, I'm equivalent of anonymous content producer online. How do you distinguish yourself? How do you assess arts?
Banu Cennetoğlu: There is the "Substitute" issue. You can be replaced; no problem. Somebody will say, "yes" to something to which you've said "no". It's over. It was in the old days where there was an irreplaceable valuable production.
Elmas Deniz: We individually choose the most convenient option for our personal gains which are motivated by our short-term plans. However this is something that will destroy us all in the long run. Even if we had this knowledge we would still go for the short-term benefit. If we don't abandon our cars today, in 70 years we won't be able to breathe. But everybody goes: "I use it to get to work thus it's practical for me." In fact this is the situation on the mass-scale. I wrote it on the blog: There, I used the word "altruism". You participate in a cycle for the benefit of others more than your own but you are not its first user.
Banu Cennetoğlu: Ego is an important thing. The reason behind Facebook's big boom is a really human thing. You get curious; you expose your privacy. You want to be wondered about, be seen, and be approved. It is very selfish.
Elmas Deniz: Everybody is racing to conform to the system.
Banu Cennetoğlu: Then produce for yourself. I see this as the only way out. There's a pattern. Try to exist on yours. Try to unite with those like you.
Deniz Gül: Another topic is the product's course that leads to eventual melting. With the Internet, we're actually talking about "a constant process" and something incomplete. Orton, you were mentioning the lack of product as the capitalism's ultimate state. However, art still is product-centric because it is the most valid form to work in such a system.
Orton Akıncı: I don't want to go off-topic but I want to make a point. A surplus value is obtained. Culture industry gets the biggest share and the artist is spared a rather small one. What do we want? Do we want for the artist to acquire the money she makes?.... Is "gift" possible in art? I'm using "gift" for a reason. Metaphorically, since the work of Marcel Mauss being shown as reference, something happened to demonstrate that the possibility of another world's possibility: the fact that what bound sharing, good will and society went through these.
Deniz Gül: In my opinion, the artist wants autonomy rather than money, especially over his own production. What bores a lot of people is the point where things get stuck. Things are done, but he's not aware of what's being done or where things are headed. Due to wandering around institutions, he can't have a right to speak up for his work either.
Orton Akıncı: Copyleft is crucial thing here. When you copyleft something -differing from some licenses of Creative Commons- somebody using the information cannot shut it down and it can be opened to distribution. If some part of the work is accessible while other parts are not, a surplus value can be produced out of it. If people exposed their expenses online like Burak did, then they become unavailable for marketing strategies. Because the information is already there... The point I'm trying to make is: If the artist presents his work "copyleft"ed, every work that's done over that work will be referenced to the artist. Problem solved... Its distribution over a website is another big problem. There's something with network economies. The network's value is equivalent to more of those who use it and exceeds them. However P2P eliminates centricity. Anders Weberg has a project called "P2P Art". He shares his artwork over P2P and deletes it from his computer after somebody downloads it. It's only P2P thus the work exists everywhere, also nowhere until the last person deletes from his/her sharing folder. What does this show? If people want the piece, it'll never be trash and the value of the work will be determined not by its exchange value but by its use value.
Burak Arıkan: You can share a medium on P2P networks, but how can you share a system? Think about the MYPOCKET project... That's a multiparty system: the credit card swipe machine, bank card, my software, my database, the bank database, the financial cloud… How can you distribute this? Creative Commons lawyer Lawrence Lessing mentions copyrighting videos and all that distributable media. Is the artwork a picture, a video anymore? How can you distribute a system as art?
Orkon Akıncı: You may say that the Internet isn't providing the revolution it enabled on other fields. It has be thought through. I mentioned P2P only as a form of logic for getting organized, differing from Client-Server model. This is a system that can reveal a distinct and true value. Maybe you can adjust it as a system, maybe you can not...
Elmas Deniz: When you mention where the money will go, I want control upon it. I want to control what I give, to whom I give it, how to give it free of charge or with a price...
Deniz Gül: It's almost impossible; we're talking about an uncontrollable thing such as the Internet. It is incredibly dynamic, it is a living structure.
Elmas Deniz: I said it not only for the Internet but for the culture industry as well. Istanbul Modern: It has an art museum that represents Istanbul. You have a part in everything that has art in it. Does it have a benefit to you? No. It reads, "We support art" in huge letters. I saw no such thing! I support art at home, broke, working for art. I produce information.
Deniz Gül: You do this on your own will. Nobody asks you to it as a labourer. You consciously choose to produce art even if there is no demand. That causes the unpredictability of the output. It comes down to the question of who appraises that value, who needs it and for what reasons. This is why the artist needs the economy. I'm talking about value here; not only in the means of money.
Metehan Özcan: Don't you think that cultural industry will survive on the Internet? The linear thing in reality is passing on from the small goblet to a bigger one. Won't the same thing occur online? Everybody is trying be at the same spot simultaneously. Even the most marginal person is trying to go where everyone's seen; and money is there as well. Don't you think that the Internet still operates on a corporate level while it liberates us? When will the corporate cease to process or is there ever going to be such time? I'm talking in the context of art. Everybody's putting work online. The value of the information rises up accordingly...
Orton Akıncı: Value is something that is defined within the culture industry. That's what culture industry does: Top Ten lists. You should listen to these, do not waste your time with others, we have chosen for you. A video uploaded on Youtube by a renowned director may have a head start. But after a while, the value created by the masses can reveal it's worth independent of money.
Deniz Gül: Do you think that this value emerges democratically? We're talking about egalitarian democracy on the Internet. Ultimately, can we say that the artwork of the artist with the most rating is the most valuable; that it'll sell for the highest amount? I think we can't.
Orton Akıncı: There used to be an accessibility problem. But it's not the case on the Internet. Let's think about public art. A sculpture is there in the middle of the road. It might be pretty but it is lengthening my path. I have to walk around it. There is no discussion on whether if it is wanted there. However on P2P model -metaphorically- as long as there's the will of a person to hold a particular file on their computer, there emerges a value independent of monetary worth.
Deniz Gül: All right, let's get to the difference between an artist and a merchant, then. You commission the work to yourself. Now imagine earning money from it. You are a businessman at some point, aren't you? When we got rid of all the institutions appraising art? Let's imagine that high art and low art are approaching to one and other. Don't we see that the difference between the artist aiming for the popular culture and the artist aiming for the museum is surmounted? Will there be artist merchants on the brink of actualizing a new public utopia? Will there still be multiple spaced art systems which feed on culture industry or traveling artists who trade culture? There are corporations who produce and sell "art" since the 90s. Is that independence? There was this example Elmas gave. Would you like to tell us about it?
Elmas Deniz: This is really interesting. Perhaps it is the essence of the whole thing. It reads in an economics book: The best profit can be obtained first, by art, then property and then -for example- gold. So it goes. In the same book, the professions and their economic values were lined up. On the top of the list were bankers or sector creators. Below, there were white-collar workers. Down you go and at the bottom of the list you see cripples and artists. Here is the artist's death- the death of the auteur, the artist who speaks for the masses. You murder them so that they can not speak for themselves. Artists, who are below the line, become those who are unaware of the values they create.
Deniz Gül: But some sort of resistance can also manifest. Immaterial labour becomes material in the nearest future. If you claim your right and say, “I don't want to be below the line because I am producing value. I possess it and I have right on it.” If you stand up for yourself, maybe things will change. After all, we are in an period of turmoil where activities of creative profession groups, communicators, artists and businessmen approach to one and other; where concept slowly corrodes; where relationships -social, political, economic- are redefined…
