Jens
Haaning - de vleeshal, middelburg
by Lars Bang Larsen
Middelburg is a seaside resort on the Zeeland peninsula about 150
km south-west of Rotterdam. Like any tourist destination, Middelburg
plays up its local colour, presenting itself as a Dutch idyll. Indeed,
it has all the prescribed characteristics: a canal with colourful,
oversized toy bridges; a town centre with picturesque Renaissance
houses; and even a couple of castles. Beneath bright bunting, the
outdoor cafés service their guests with Europop, interspersed
with news or greetings for the holidaymakers. In case of bad weather,
there is a packed programme of amusements. Next to the camping site
is an arena for open air concerts, and the town square is crowded
with colourful stalls offering African souvenirs, Thai food, flowers
and "I've been to Middelburg" T-shirts.
Facing this tourist pandemonium is de Vleeshal, formerly a meat market
and now a Kunsthalle. Here, adjoining the church and the town hall,
Jens Haaning has installed a clothing factory. Turkish-owned Maras
Confectie, from the neighbouring town Vlessingen, agreed to move its
goods and machinery to de Vleeshal and continue production there.
During opening hours, Maras Confectie and its twelve workers from
Iran, Turkey and Bosnia, are part of the installation "Middelburg
Summer 1996" (1996): though more often than not, the workers pursue
their deadlines long after closing time. Haaning's work thus deals
with the social aesthetics of the exchange of territories - a theme
that embraces the opening up of institutional space, as well as various
forms of migration. It is perhaps not unimportant that, during the
period of Dutch colonialism, Middelburg was one of the first towns
to trade with the Third World.
In this respect, Haaning very much appears to be an artist with a
mission. You could call the ironic, aggressive seduction of his work
an art of alienated power. "Middelburg Summer 1996" is a continuation
of other production line projects by Haaning, in which a number of
people participate in a symbolically charged, but ultimately undefined
activity. In "Weapon Production" (1995), for example, a group of youngsters,
who had - so to speak - some prior experience, took part in making
illegal street weapons; and in "flag Production" (1996), flags were
sewn for an unknown nation. "Middelburg Summer 1996" is the first
time, though, that a ready-made production line has been used and
previous works of this kind are mere simulations in comparison.
The transformation of de Vleeshal into a factory marks a total reversal
of artistic economies: the factory perfectly apprehends the space
of the institution and makes it its own. An office and a canteen have
been installed by the entrance; there are strip lights above the work
tables; and on the end wall is a large, red, supporters' banner for
the Turkish football club Besiktas. The noise of the sewing machines
mixes happily with Türkü (a sort of Turkish blues), Michael
Jackson and classical music. When entering de Vleeshal, you must,
as a spectator, assume a peripheral and rather reticent position,
in contrast to the specular command traditionally wielded at art exhibitions.
The atmosphere and the activity make you feel like an intruder. Moreover,
the artistÕs sphere of operation is reduced to a distant, purely administrative
function. I arrived at the exhibition some hours before the opening,
and the only people there were the workers. I asked the foreman if
he knew where Haaning was - he answered "who ?".
This Readymade, with its metaphors of accumulation and productivity,
and their economic connotations, suggests a commercial use of the
institutional framework. Maras Confectie is a thriving business and
sits uncomfortably with the typical Western-guilty-conscience idea
of the "lousy jobs we give our guest workers": during the eight weeks
of the installation, the twelve workers produced £ 50.000 worth of
goods. The symbolic value of this economic transaction speaks a worldly
language everybody is likely to understand (or feel provoked by in
the "pure" context of the artistic sphere). For example, Maras Confectie
was reimbursed for the loss of working hours caused by the staff having
to talk to museum visitors. When industry, with all its economic power,
enters the institution, the former loses its anchoring in society
and plays with the significance of value. The art institution is a
non-profit enterprise, usually subsidised, but has enormous cultural
significance and social standing, together with the best address in
town. In contrast, Maras Confectie, an apparently successful business,
is hidden away in the suburbs, along with the cultural otherness it
represents.
Haaning's striving for a form of social aesthetics could be said to
stem from a desire to express what the Readymade can't communicate.
"Middelburg Summer 1996" involves a strategy of alienation, the pivotal
point of which is social rather than aesthetic. If the beholder accepts
the terms of the work, she finds herself in a void between the piece
and its contextual setting: the working situation and the workers'
nationalities displace the viewer, preventing a comprehensive view
of the artwork. Consistence and communication aren't available assets
in the contextual conflicts of the artwork, and its implicit claim
seems to be that no one controls the all-encompassing, global economy,
from which the average visitor to de Vleeshal has made a vain attempt
to escape by going on holiday in Middelburg. The artwork suggests
that there can be no freedom or actuality apart from activity and
social exchange; but the question is where the beholder should take
action - how does one situate oneself in the life offered by the global
supermarket ?
The contradiction between powerlessness and the desire to make a difference
link the social and the aesthetic experience of Haaning's work. but,
more importantly, his staging of clashes and transactions between
different social and artistic economies takes place out of respect
for the individual's self-esteem and desire to test his or her own
sense of reality.
Originally published in Frieze, issue 31, November/December 1996 |
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