The explosion of futurisms in the last three decades as transmedial movements that engage in processes of futuring (i.e. imagining and visualizing new futures) can be termed CoFuturisms. CoFuturisms include, for instance, Afro- and Africanfuturisms, Indigenous Futurisms, Aadivasi Futurisms, Chicanafuturism, Latinxfuturisms, Gulf-futurism, Arabfuturism, Sinofuturism, Desifuturism, South Asian Futurism, Dalit Futurism, Asia Futurism, Andean Futurism, Ricepunk, and Silkpunk, among many others. If one is to define CoFuturisms, it would be as follows. CoFuturisms are the assertion of three rights of equality and vision: the right of everyone to exist, the right to imagine one’s own future, and the right to difference. Such assertion is key to self-representation and a marker of separation from other identities which one might share. Self-representation is particularly important for those whose futures have been (and continue to be) colonized in various ways. Colonization may take the form of continued economic dependence resulting from the machinations of global capitalism, or the continual cycle of wars and coups resulting from geopolitical interventions by foreign powers, or, quite simply, cultural colonization that erases and obliterates other forms of thinking and being in the world.

Hence these futurisms are not tied geographically; they belong to the world as ways of being in the world. Generating their own manifestos, these CoFuturisms now resonate around the world, emanating from the cultural and artistic sphere and transforming into social and political phenomena. These futurisms engage in worldbuilding, imagining possible futures as well as rewiring historical knowledge to recognize what has been erased or left out of history. The philosophy of history as a political project has always recognized future histories as a speculative project, but in CoFuturisms futures are already historical. The apocalypses of the future, such as those resulting from planetary ecocide, are not futures to come but futures that have always been here for people living in the reality of the devastation. There are Arabfuturisms in Europe and elsewhere, just as there are Eurofuturisms in the rest of the world because these futurisms are all constitutive of the other. Difference is carving out a space of existence between worlds: to find a space for some identities that constitute us by separating us from others that constitute us, even if we belong to multiple ones.

Beyond these continuing colonizations, as many formerly colonized states and peoples transform into hegemonies and colonizing forces of their own, the explosion of futurisms is only inevitable, and likely to continue, to the point where futurisms will arise wherever human beings seek to mark their own existence. Other CoFuturisms, such as LGBTQIA2S+ Futurisms, Queer futurisms, Xenofuturisms, and Crip-Futurisms, are for that reason just as inevitable as geopolitically or ethnically oriented ones, since they too emerge from the same basic principles: the right to exist, the right to imagine, and the right to difference. CoFuturisms resist unity and are fundamentally unstable. This is necessary if they are to retain their political potential and charge, since no single movement can be a new form of unifying discourse that erases other identities to assert itself. Beyond and within CoFuturisms, which refer to these movements, lie certain fundamental ethical propositions: propositions that are referred to by the philosophical concept of CoFutures. CoFuturisms are simply an instance of these propositions. These ethical propositions termed CoFutures are generative and motile and permanently in a state of unfolding into instances such as various futurisms.

What propositions are these? To some extent, our unruly capitalization gives us away: in the “Co” of CoFutures. The “Co” of CoFutures stands for six different ethical propositions, of which three are most relevant in the discussion of CoFuturisms: complexity, coevalness, and compossibility.

Complexity is the principle of diversity, and it unmasks uniformity as a totalitarian project. This means that any form of thinking or system-building that seeks to unwrap itself into a new form of totality and unity is inherently suspect. Complexity thrives on the proliferation of identities, values, knowledges, languages, ideas, and constantly seeks new forms of becoming. Uniformity is the totalitarianism at the heart of the political project of nation states, as well as the prison of ideas: it seeks to make everyone look, act, speak, believe, eat, and think the same, and be the same in mind, body, and spirit, rather than support the proliferation of identities that we really are as beings in the world. Therefore, the prisons of totality and uniformity always contain within them the seeds of their own dissolution. Looking at CoFuturisms, it is easy to see why the constant proliferation of new movements has become a defining trait of our times: it is because even CoFuturisms suffer from the risks of being monolithic and totalitarian. As movements, they work only as long as there are temporary conditions of coming together to achieve certain political ends, but they are easy to dissolve and dissipate into ever new forms of togetherness, new futurisms, afterwards. True diversity exists in a philosophical and ethical acceptance of the death of things we consider fundamental, including our values and identities themselves.

Coevalness is the state of things being in the same time, which is perhaps only a principle of respect that challenges the spatialization and weaponization of time. Coevalness means the rejection of a value system that has long colonized the world, whereby some cultures, some people, some nations, some technologies, some religions, some gender, some species, some ways of living and being are futuristic and progressive as compared to others. Such a value system automatically privileges some over others: for instance, one religion (or lack of one) is more progressive because of its espousal of some values while another is backward because it believes in something else, or one part of the world is more advanced and futuristic than another because it has greater technological or financial resources, etc. This value system is the lifeblood of colonialism, which forces the same understanding of teleological progress to the whole world and is backed by international financial instruments, as well as military and political muscle. Coevalness does not force us to suspend our understanding of what is more efficacious or useful, or what one might simply prefer over another. It rather demythologizes time to make us recognize that everything is in the same time, rather than in different times, and values do not stem from things being in different times. It also makes us recognize that what we consider values might just be a function of the resources or the privileges we have.

Compossibility, the third co, is the principle of balance. As a term, it refers to two things being together possible. Many futures are possible, but not all futures are together possible. Some futures, say, ethnically and culturally homogenous, supremacist, and bloodline or purity-oriented futures, are just as possible as futures that aim for diversity, multiplicity, and heterogeneity. Without making a value judgment on which future is preferable, compossibility simply asks us first to recognize that both these futures are equally possible. However, these futures are not possible together since they tend to cancel each other out due to their varying demands on the future. If one is to maintain complexity and coevalness, then compossibility makes it happen by directing us to futures that are together possible. Compossible futures are where different kinds of being and becoming can thrive, where diversity is not merely skin-deep but truly open to infinite kinds of proliferation and combinations, ever evolving more layers of possibilities.

CoFuturisms, as an instance of these propositions, are in the world to proliferate rather than to contain futures. Thus, instead of thinking of CoFuturisms themselves as some sort of coming together of various futurisms, which risks turning CoFuturisms into a monolithic concept and designation, the ”Co” disrupts this coming together except as a temporary state of political affiliation, achieving certain ends and moving on to becoming something else.

Take for instance, Arabfuturism, which is a central theme of this exhibition. In his “Towards a possible manifesto; proposing Arabfuturism(s) (Conversation A),” Scotland based artist-poet Sulaïman Majali conceives of Arabfuturisms in the plural and gestures toward CoFuturistic visions rather than outlining a monolithic futurism movement. Framing Arabfuturisms as a proposition and the manifesto itself as a possibility, Majali refrains from defining the principles and guidelines of an aesthetic or political project. Indeed, in a reinterpretation of the manifesto published in 2015, an extended note explicitly delinks Majali’s conception of Arabfuturisms from its connotations of “movement” and defines futurism as a mode of “anticipating a future,” “a defiant cultural break, a projection forward into what is, beyond ongoing eurocentric, hegemonic narratives.” Rooted in counter-cultural challenges to hegemonic definitions of identity, belonging, and futurity, Arabfuturisms call for an examination and activation of alternate possibilities latent in the present to envision and create diverse futures.

In their invitation to explore different pathways to possible presents, Arabfuturisms’ propositions encapsulate CoFuturistic concerns with complexity, coevalness, and compossibility. One way in which Arabfuturisms aim at complexity is through the sustained critique of reductive and homogenized definitions of identity and belonging. Such critique addresses all forms of othering that seek to suppress the complexity and movement of diverse, entangled, and proliferating identities—or in Majali’s words, “the emergence of an autonomous hybrid sedimentation of identities” (151). Written in a polyvocal and patchy style as an ongoing conversation, the manifesto resists closures, definitions, and completion also in its form. With its emphasis on complexity and breaking down established boundaries, Arabfuturisms are more concerned with proliferating forms of becoming than with defining an ethnofuturist vision.

Searching for new forms of representation “beyond the logic of the state,” Arabfuturisms are as critical of Eurocentric and colonial discourses and Orientalist stereotypes around Arabness as they are of Arab nationalist discourses, which welcome certain identities while suppressing others (151). Moving beyond the logic of the state requires a thorough questioning and dismantling of nationalist discourses through the critical re-examination of history. Such discourses often mobilize restrictive conceptions of origins and teleological conceptions of time to claim the superiority/futurity of a group while relegating others to an insurmountable state of belatedness, backwardness, or lack. Arabfuturisms reject such hierarchical and essentialized divisions between peoples and highlight instead their coevalness. The futures are many; they are everywhere; and they are for everyone to envision and build, even if hegemonic value systems adhere to a hierarchical organization of futurity. The principle of coevalness does not accept such hierarchical divisions at face value and calls instead for an acknowledgement of the histories of dispossession and oppression that underlie power inequalities. This is why the re-examination of history and the unearthing of neglected histories are central features of many Arabfuturist works which imagine the future by rewriting the past. These works often demonstrate how hegemonic claims to the future are founded upon violent and dismissed histories of colonialism, imperialism, and racism. Arabfuturisms underscore the necessity of envisioning futures in conversation with these histories to produce new conceptions of futurity.

As an artist based in Europe, Majali’s Arabfuturist imaginary may have been inspired primarily by the experiences of discrimination faced by diasporic Arab communities in Europe. He writes, “There is something happening in Europe,” and adds “It is a citadel of illusion that has collapsed” (153). Yet, such citadels and their accompanying colonial and nationalist ideologies are not unique to Europe, and they are being challenged across the Middle East and globally by CoFuturisms. Particularly in the past decade, there has been a considerable growth in the number of authors, artists, and filmmakers who employ speculative and futuristic storytelling not only in Arabic speaking countries but also in Turkey and Iran, and their diasporas. Although the discussions around Arabfuturisms have so far focused predominantly on the work of visual artists in the diaspora, Arabfuturisms find expression also in the literature and music produced in the Middle Eastern and North African contexts. Arabic literary criticism often situates texts with Arabfuturist concerns within genre discussions on science fiction, utopia, and dystopia. Yet, many Arabfuturist texts cross genre and media boundaries; they merge classical and modern genres, colloquial and formal registers of language, and combine oral, visual, and performative modes of storytelling with writing. Arabfuturisms are CoFuturistic both in this transmediality and in the sense that their concerns extend beyond Arab identity and Europe toward a more global outlook. In seeking “collaborative genealogies” (153) that can establish solidarities with decolonization and social justice struggles elsewhere, Arabfuturisms invite us to envision different forms of becoming possible together.

References
Chattopadhyay, Bodhisattva. 2021. “Manifestos of Futurisms”. Foundation vol.50(2), no.139. 8-23.

Chattopadhyay, Bodhisattva. 2022. “Speculative Futures of Global South Infrastructures.” In  Urban Infrastructuring: Reconfigurations,  Transformations and Sustainability in the Global South. Ed. Deljana Iossifova et al. SpringerNature: Sustainable Development Goals Series. 297-208.

Chattopadhyay, Bodhisattva. 2020. “The Pandemic That Was Always Here, and Afterward: from Futures to CoFutures.” Science Fiction Studies 47.3. 338-340

Majali, Sulaïman. 2015. ‘Towards a Possible Manifesto; Proposing Arabfuturism(s) (Conversation A)’. In Cost of Freedom: A Collective Enquiry. Ed. Clément Renaud. No publisher. 151-3. http://costoffreedom.cc (accessed 01 December 2023). [The reinterpretation is available on  https://futuresofcolour.tumblr.com/post/161897827578/towards-arabfuturisms-manifesto-words-artwork]

Tabur, Merve. 2021. Ends of Language in the Anthropocene: Narrating Environmental Destruction in Turkish, Arabic, and Arab-Anglophone Speculative Fiction. Pennsylvania State University, PhD Dissertation.

Tabur, M. 2024. “Settling the Desert, Unsettling the Mirage: Urban Ecologies of Arab and Gulf Futurisms in Ahmed Naji’s Using Life.” Utopian studies, 35(1): 187-208. https://doi.org/10.5325/utopianstudies.35.1.0187

photo: Bodhisattva Chattopadhyay, ‘CoFutures Motif 3: It is interesting to contemplate an entangled bank’. Ħal Tarxien, 2018

Dialogues is a place for being vocal. Here, authors and artists get together in conversations, interviews, essays and experimental forms of writing. We aim to create a space of exchange, where the published results are often the most visible manifestations of relations, friendships and collaborations built around Sumac Space. SUBSCRIBE NOW TO STAY CURRENT.

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Calvino: Beyond The Visible
Ahmed Ben Nessib, Aymen Mbarki, Kamal Zakour, Othman Selmi, Seif Eddine Nechi, Sonia Ben Selem
Curated by Abir Gasmi and Anna Gabai

Organized by the Italian Cultural Institute of Tunis as part of the Calvino In Tunis Series, October 17 – November 30, 2023; Millefeuilles Bookstore, La Marsa.

How can one interpret a story or an idea through images?

At first, the task seems daunting and incongruous. Yet, that is precisely what we asked six artists to do: select a novel by Italo Calvino and translate it into images, even if they were unfamiliar with his work. They had to discover the author, read him, digest him, dream about him, make his stories their own, explore the hidden corners of his oeuvre, and finally, like alchemists, transform his words into drawings.

It is in the corners and crevices of language, in the spaces in between, where a hidden, underground narrative can be found—one that words cannot fully capture, but which images freeze, like a drop of water in the heart of winter. Calvino’s stories are full of these hidden spaces. His books are half-open doors leading to entire universes, and his sentences do what writing does best: they suggest, indicate, and conceal to reveal. His subtly, light, playful, and evocative prose transforms each reader into an imaginary illustrator.

But more than merely illustrating the text, the images in this exhibition suggest what the written word cannot say or manifest. They go beyond the visible. The result is an enchanting and kaleidoscopic exhibition where refined blacks and whites intertwine with vibrant colors, shadows dance with glimmers of light, and tiny creatures find the space we never knew they needed.

These illustrations make us feel at home by drawing on familiar motifs and stories while illuminating new dimensions of Calvino’s prose that we had not previously considered. They transcend their role as mere complements to the text, allowing us to discover a microcosm—that of each artist—whose imagination draws from the writer’s nuances yet maintains its unique substance. The works combine two creative realities that overlap and blend surprisingly, uniting opposites in the same space: classicism and experimentation, light and darkness, color and black and white…

Like the Ligurian author, these artists have embarked on a journey through worlds and eras, using their talents to allow us to experience an aesthetic encounter that transcends the every day without abandoning it. Instead, it enriches it, making it more lovable and comprehensible.

While walking through a Ligurian forest, for a brief moment, it seemed to me as though I saw Cosimo, the Baron in the Trees, dashing among the branches of oaks and chestnuts. Calvino had an extensive knowledge of plants and nature and a profound love for his Ligurian mountains, which rise steeply above the Mediterranean. He could have boarded a ship in Genoa and reached Tunis, moving from one city of alleyways and palaces to another, rich in narrow streets and grand buildings. I can picture him pausing along the avenues of Tunis to observe which trees grow there, taking a moment to cool himself beneath their canopy. During such a walk, he might have dreamed up a new invisible city—a welcoming city colored by pink and orange bougainvillea.

In preparing for the exhibition, I read the books the artists had chosen as their sources of inspiration. At times, when I came across particularly detailed passages, I wondered how these might influence the illustrations and whether those phrases would be perceived as too restrictive. Predictably, I was proven wrong. Each artist interpreted the works through their own unique perspective.

My curiosity to see the paintings grew weekly: What would I recognize? How would the landscape be transformed?

We can recognize Agilulfo, the Nonexistent Knight, in Ahmed Ben Nessib’s work. He walks pensively among bats and lampposts, sleepless and full of existential doubts like Nat King Cole swearing that it will be forever when he falls in love. It is a nocturnal scene set in the dark, deserted streets of a city, which bears traces of daytime activity like the camp in the novel. Yet, the protagonist finds a way to carve out a space for meditation.

The empty armor of the Nonexistent Knight as a metaphor for artificial intelligence—a double-edged sword of our creativity—is perfectly captured in the illustrations by Seif Eddine Nechi. Here, Agilulfo is not the sole protagonist; his squire, Gurdulù, also has a place. The artist thus manages to give form to the dichotomy at the heart of this novel: the personification of rules and discipline in contrast with instinct. The knight’s colorful plume stands out amidst the blue and white that characterize these digital illustrations and echoes the colored pencil drawing that portrays the four main characters as puppets reminiscent of Sicilian marionettes. Here, the rational Agilulfo, the impulsive Rambaldo, the passionate Bradamante, and the exuberant Gurdulù regain a classical physicality that would have been understood even at Charlemagne’s court.

Italian folk tales come to life thanks to the vibrant colors and whimsical creatures that inhabit Sonia Bensalem’s works. In one illustration, a young man sleeps alongside a dog and a cat. In the background, the phrase “fairy tales are true…” hints at what they are dreaming. In another beautiful panel, creatures of the sky and sea gather around a giant resting beneath a large tree: an octopus, many small birds, a few donkeys, queens, and cottages—so many loving details drawn with the same care as the characters in the third illustration, where they tidy another giant’s beard using rakes.

Thanks to Aymen Mbarki’s flowing lines, the characters from the complex novel If on a Winter’s Night, a Traveler become perfectly comprehensible. A play of volumes characterizes the illustrations: the delicate features of people engrossed in reading are framed by bolder lines that guide the eye across the three illustrations. In this work, aged paper creates a welcoming environment for the black ink, giving it even greater depth.

Othman Selmi brings us into the treetops to chase after Cosimo, the rebellious baron who will never descend again. Selmi gives the work a contemporary touch, choosing almost pastel-like colors and capturing all the love the protagonist feels—for freedom, his friends, Viola, and the forest. In the illustration where young Cosimo reads to the bandit Gian dei Brughi, all these themes come together: the young baron, with an open book, sits on the back of the bandit, crammed into a cell too small for him. A blossoming tattoo adorns the bandit’s giant arm, and small trees grow at his feet.

Then, Abir Gasmi and Kamal Zakkour created the three new invisible cities, suspended between shadows and sea breezes. Fiorita, Spaventata, and Pretenziosa are projections of the soul drawn in charcoal on paper. Many of us would love to live forever in Fiorita. Still, we know all too well that without knowing Spaventata and Pretenziosa, we would never appreciate the value of the city where “restless souls find peace.”

The search for the proper nails to support so much beauty led me to a small hardware store, where an attentive and precise apprentice helped me. We chose small, dark nails—discreet yet intense—and hammered them into the white walls, freshly repainted for the occasion. There was a dance of the paintings until one evening, after sunset, everything fell into place, and we left, satisfied. We hung books on the walls to share the stories we had loved with all those who came to visit.

Once everything is in place, there is that slightly dizzying moment when you look around and remember the empty room when everything was still packed against the walls. Yes, something could still be changed. No, everything will stay just as it is.

Calvino would have liked it.

The catalouge “Calvino a Tunisi,” edited by Chiara Comito, will be published by Mesogea at the end of November 2024.

_Abir Gasmi and Anna Gabai

Dialogues is a place for being vocal. Here, authors and artists get together in conversations, interviews, essays and experimental forms of writing. We aim to create a space of exchange, where the published results are often the most visible manifestations of relations, friendships and collaborations built around Sumac Space. SUBSCRIBE NOW TO STAY CURRENT.

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Mojtaba Amini explores the dual roles of artists as creators and social commentators, highlighting the tension between artistic freedom and societal pressures and the influence of political power on creative expression. His work is closely connected to his personal experiences and the violent histories of the materials he uses, which serve as metaphors for larger societal issues. Amini also critiques the ignorance and absence of serious curators in Iran’s art scene, pointing out that the dominance of galleries and commercial interests stifles true artistic expression and hinders significant artistic movements.

Davood Madadpoor: One of the concerns that have recently occupied my mind, and I would like to know your perspective on this, is the concept of being an artist. We who work and live in the Middle East, focusing on its social and political geography, might see our artistic activities take on a different hue, whether for me as a curator or you as an artist. Considering that this region is constantly undergoing social and political changes, how has your relationship with art evolved over time?

Mojtaba Amini: An artist’s beliefs and ideologies compel them to interpret and analyze political and social conditions. They then try to align these beliefs with their academic background, compare them with the realities of society, and ultimately intervene in their path forward. These alignments and contradictions can lead to growth, change, and evolution in the art and the artist’s character. Changes in society stem from the policies of power, and the citizen-artist, depending on their relationship with power, can present a form of art that constantly needs to evolve.

Pariya Ferdos[se]: Is this structural belonging a necessity? And if belonging to this structure limits the audience, can the artist find a way to overcome this limitation in presenting their work, both in the manner of presentation and in the scope of the audience?

Mojtaba: It would be better to answer this series of questions with Mikhail Bakhtin’s view on the artist, the audience, the artwork, and society. Bakhtin believes that Art is inherently and intrinsically social; when the external social environment influences art from the outside, it encounters an immediate and internal resonance within it. These two factors (art and society) are in no way alien forces that influence each other: the structure of one influences the structure of the other…Even that internal part of the artist that manifests in their work still has a social root in the artist’s subconscious, and the political or social situation of the environment provokes the artist to react in various ways. There will be no specific obligation, but there will be resistance from the artist regarding the form of presentation and the content of their works concerning environmental influences. Suppose the social conditions impact the artist as an individual in society, resulting in an artistic work and the construction of meaning. In that case, the reception of this meaning is completed in the same context where the work is created. The effort to transcend these limitations is somewhat subject to becoming fashionable.

Davood: By accepting the artist’s role, do you think we are caught up in a system that forces us to engage with it and consequently question and address it? Do you think the artist now, beyond the “traditional” role of being an artist, also assumes other roles?

Mojtaba: I think artists oscillate between the role they choose for themselves and their assigned role. Where society gives them meaning and credibility, compulsion will also be present in their work.

Davood: So, if I understand correctly, we should pause again to discuss the freedom and limitations of artists, correct? And have you, as an artist, accepted this compulsion from society? Should we call it compulsion, or perhaps a term like responsibility would better capture the sense of obligation?

Mojtaba: Artists are free, and no one has the right to tell them what to do or not do. However, when the artist, as Albert Camus says, becomes temporarily famous and derives their credibility from society and the people, they are compelled to stand with the people.

Pariya: Accepting that the artist, in your view, should stand with the people, to what extent is this possible, and if achieved, how impactful, inspirational, and effective can it be? Should the artist feel obligated to be influential?

Mojtaba: A famous artist with social capital can be influential to some extent by raising awareness and intervening in society.

Davood: Can you explain the nature and manner of these influences? Do these influences follow a particular direction?

Mojtaba: I think one of the best examples of intervention in power and the social influence of an Iranian artist is Mohammad Reza Shajarian due to his correct stance concerning the political-social events of recent years, which led to the banning of his works from state television and, more specifically, the removal of Rabbana from Iranian radio and television. His act raised many questions among the people, especially the religious part; it’s an example of the most accurate form of awareness-raising by a socially influential and well-known artist.

Pariya: Given that we have discussed the influence of political and social context and the dominant structure on the artist, how do you think, besides these factors, the intrinsic nature of the artist as a human being and their lived experience (in the form of psyche and body) impact the creation of their work?

Mojtaba: Any form of personalization in the artist’s work and the creation of art is something in continuity with others and resembles others. I mean that the creation of artistic work takes place in dialogue with others and under the influence of others in society. The “self” of the artist is not an independent existential entity; moreover, the artistic work is produced within a medium with history and past influences.

Pariya: In addition to the role and presence of the artist as a socio-political and artistic figure whose content is derived from the environment, in your work, the nature of the material and its becoming (in interaction with the environment and other materials) is evident. Where does this perspective and attention to the importance of the passage of time and the subjective nature of the material come from?

Mojtaba: I have previously answered this question elsewhere, in the book “It Transpired” Material and language have a nearly equal serious presence in my work. The material in my work has two aspects: personal and impersonal. Skin, fat, soap, and wool have a connection to my past and childhood as someone who lived in a rural farming family and witnessed the violence inflicted on animals, all of which these materials in my work are exactly “the remnants of violence” from the bodies of animals. In conjunction with the linguistic aspect of my work, which is a form of “language of violence” for me, they create that critical and socio-political meaning I intend from art. The other part of it is impersonal materials, similar to oil and tar, which are directly influenced by our political and social life, and it’s clear that no further explanation is needed here.

Pariya: And continuing, is it only the artist in this geography who should be expressive, or should other artistic roles like gallery owners, curators, dealers, etc., also be directly involved and function as an influential group or puzzle? How should this juxtaposition be?

Mojtaba: Certainly, all these elements that you mentioned are important and influential because for the three aspects of the artwork, the artist, and the audience to function correctly, the presence of all of them is necessary. However, in Iran, this coexistence does not work properly. There is no serious concept of a curator because galleries’ absolute dominance and the market’s logic do not feel the need for a curator’s presence. As a result, the artist has also lost their role and importance in this dominance. This is why we do not witness serious and specific art trends, and artists mostly produce commodities for this economic cycle.

Davood: In your opinion, what is the solution to break this flawed cycle? How can we create real convergence among artists, curators, gallery owners, and other factors to witness the formation of serious and meaningful trends?

Mojtaba: Breaking this cycle depends on the existence of independent and governmental institutions that support artists who are not inclined towards the market’s demands and tastes, as well as the existence of experimental, artist-run, and collaborative spaces.

Paria: In this process and interaction between local and global art, where do you see Iranian art in the big picture of global art?

Mojtaba: Due to the significant dispersion of the Iranian population worldwide, what is seen and presented as Iranian art is mostly within the realm of economy and market, and among this migrant population, there is nothing beyond that.

Dialogues is a place for being vocal. Here, authors and artists get together in conversations, interviews, essays and experimental forms of writing. We aim to create a space of exchange, where the published results are often the most visible manifestations of relations, friendships and collaborations built around Sumac Space. SUBSCRIBE NOW TO STAY CURRENT.

The post Artist’s Dilemma: Authorship, Power, and Social Responsibility—Mojtaba Amini in conversation with Pariya Ferdos[se] and Davood Madadpoor appeared first on Sumac Space.

[Scroll down for Farsi Version]

Mitra Soltani shares how her experiences with instability, lack of agency, and being a woman have shaped her projects. The conversation explores the evolving roles of the artist, the unique imprints they leave, and the intersection of gender, embodiment, gesture, and indigenous context in her work. The conversation not only addresses the duties and limitations of artists in society but also emphasizes the crucial role of the artist in shaping societal narratives, the power of juxtaposition, and the role of art professionals in bridging the local and global art scenes.

Davood Madadpoor: I want to start the conversation with a general question about being an artist. The concept of being an artist differs in local and international contexts. Coming from the Middle East (with a focus on its social and political geography), we may add a different flavor to the concept of being an artist through our artistic activities. Considering living in a region constantly undergoing social and political changes, how has your relationship with art evolved?

Mitra Soltani: In recent projects like Showing Transparency and A Number of Monuments, my direct experience with the subject has been central to my work. The daily experience of insecurity and lack of any form of stability is a state that deprives the human/artist of any sense of “agency.” For me, art’s function is a way to fight or resist the feeling of being objectified in such a situation. My work involves collecting archives, working with low-value or ephemeral materials, and exploring the lifestyle and art of local tribes and nomads.

Davood: Mitra, you made an interesting point! How can we reconcile the contradiction between the lack of agency for the artist and using artistic methods as a form of struggle?

Mitra: The example is local women’s way of life and art, inspiring this project. These women live in challenging conditions with countless restrictions imposed by society, family, and nature. However, all these limitations do not result in them being passive; instead, they impact their surroundings by employing art and rituals bit by bit. This impact deepens and spreads to the point where it even infiltrates their society’s most challenging and male-dominated structures. For me, defining agency is something like this.

Davood: By accepting the artist’s role, do you think we are engaged in a particular situation and system that compels us to interact with it, thus questioning and addressing it? Do you think the artist now has other roles beyond the “traditional” role of being an artist?

Mitra: I find this question challenging. I don’t fully understand the concept of an artist’s “traditional” role. Perhaps it means that the role of art in its traditional form was static and has changed over time. However, I’m afraid I have to disagree with this idea. Every example that comes to mind, whether historical or traditional, shows the artist constantly asking questions, challenging assumptions, and transforming. Therefore, the artist has not assumed a new role; what has changed is the way of thinking and expression, which has evolved with the times.

Regarding the first part of the question, since I consider freedom the most essential characteristic of art, I don’t think the artist is “compelled” in any field. However, I feel trapped in a system and am trying to find a way out.

Pariya Ferdosse: Given that you mentioned being trapped in a system, I will rephrase Davood’s first question differently: is this contextual attachment a necessity? And if this attachment to the context limits the audience, can the artist overcome this limitation in presenting their works? (Both in presentation and the audience)

Mitra: For me, the work was created within the context of my living environment, making it impossible to think or develop detachedly. Essentially, this compulsion and a sense of helplessness shaped the idea of the work. Regarding the audience limitation, it is natural for each work to have its audience. I have created many projects in nature, Indigenous environments, and public and urban spaces that have attracted a wide range of audiences, and works like this project probably have a more limited audience. In other words, I am not particularly insistent that all my works have the same or a broad audience.

Pariya: In this context, how does the intrinsic nature of the artist as a human being and their lived experience (in the form of a posture – both mental and physical) impact the production of the work, considering that some of your works remind me of Hannah Wilke and particularly Ana Mendieta? (I ask this question in line with your discussion about the lifestyle of nomadic women and how gender and embodiment have entered your methodology and working style.)

Mitra: It is hard to imagine an artist who can think about art or create something detached from their lived experience. The only question is how tangible this impact is. Essentially, this work and most of my projects are based on my lived experience in a native and ritualistic culture, both in subject matter and working method. I am inclined toward a form of conceptual art that relates to ritualistic actions, literature and nature are other essential components of my artistic practice. All these elements directly arise from the life of my mind and body in such a context. A specific example is works entirely based on ritualistic behaviour, and ritual cannot be understood from the outside. This topic underscores the importance of the body and gender in my works, as the relationship between body and gender and their dialogue with nature gives rise to rituals.

Davood: What differentiates an artist who feels responsible towards society from groups like politicians or social scientists who seek to imagine and create a new future?

Mitra: It is more logical to think about the similarities rather than the differences because this distinction is fundamental. An artist uses their freedom, sensitivity, and creativity. They can internalize issues and present intangible aspects. They move independently of the boundaries and limits of any discipline and thus deal not with explaining issues but with perceiving disasters or ideal situations. For example, my experience with some artworks with socio-political concerns (amid the constant flow of world news and information, which quickly trivializes every important matter) has been like a pause or break. This pause suggests different ways of seeing and thinking and keeps the hope for change alive through creativity.

Pariya: Assuming that you believe the artist should stand by the people, how feasible is this, and if achieved, how impactful, inspiring, and functional is it? Should the artists consider themselves obligated to be impactful?

Mitra: I believe the artist should not necessarily stand by the people, and I can’t define a “should” for the artist. I only know that art is closer to freedom than anything else, or at least it should be. Therefore, in a dictatorial society, the side of freedom is likely the opposite of power in most cases.

Regarding obligation, as I said, I cannot impose a duty on the artist; I think more about the commitment to art itself. I am still determining its functionality, which significantly depends on the social conditions in which we are active. Still, regarding inspiration, I agree that artistic endeavor is fundamentally inspiring, and we can think about its quantity and quality.

Pariya: In this context, is it only the artist who should be expressive, or do other artistic roles like gallery owners, curators, dealers, etc., also have a direct impact and function as a group or puzzle? How do you see this juxtaposition?

Mitra: Any form of expression or impact in art results from a set of choices. Naturally, in these choices, other players in the art field, such as gallery owners, curators, dealers, critics, etc., play an important role. As we have often seen, artists with prominent discourses have been marginalized while less significant productions have been highlighted. In the case of my projects, this juxtaposition has usually not been very successful because in such projects, the roles of others, including gallery owners, curators, etc., are more significant in presenting the work, and many challenges make them less inclined towards such projects.

Pariya: In this process and the interaction between local and global art, where do you see modern (contemporary) Iranian art in the big picture of global art?

Mitra: I am not very optimistic about works that have a closer connection to indigenous contexts. I only know a few successful examples of such art. By success, I mean being recognized in the global picture, as you mentioned. Because I think the global/Western view of other societies is still negligent and colonial in that they always pay attention to easily accessible and exotic images and ideas, not those that require a deeper understanding.

Mitra Soltani is an interdisciplinary artist interested in the relationship between literature, culture, and everyday life. She always uses objects that reflect the history and identity of the culture. Her work seeks new experiences of dealing with material and concept by exploring indigenous art practices and literature. She received a bachelor’s degree in painting from Shahed University of Tehran and a master’s degree in graphics from Tehran University of Art. Soltani has participated in more than thirty group exhibitions and art festivals and biennials and has made a number of projects in urban spaces and nature. Instagram

Pariya Fedros[se] is a curator, researcher, writer, and architect working on intersectional curatorial methodology and practices based on comparative methods, discourses, and texts. She started her career in art as an art director at age 26. After being cofounder and art director of two galleries, and because of her background in studying computer science, architecture, and philosophy (especially Eastern), she decided to extend her experiences to interdisciplinary research/text–oriented curating and architectural projects. She curated and designed Tehran’s Trilogy in three different exhibitions in Tehran’s central and ancient neighborhood (2017-2018). She was a researcher in the project exhibited in CAAM [Contemporary Art Museum in the Canary Islands]. Named Human All Too Human based on the ideas of the Iranian philosopher Suhrawardi (2018-2021). She curated an exhibition called Melencolia I with nine artists from four countries following comparative methodology and bridging art history inspiration, cinema, and psychology; this project took nine months (2022-2023). She was one of the writers in the book Rethinking the Contemporary Art of Iran by Hamid Keshmirshekan (2023). Recently, she’s been working on curational and publishing projects on different topics, such as Iranian literature, mysticism and immigration.

Dialogues is a place for being vocal. Here, authors and artists get together in conversations, interviews, essays and experimental forms of writing. We aim to create a space of exchange, where the published results are often the most visible manifestations of relations, friendships and collaborations built around Sumac Space. SUBSCRIBE NOW TO STAY CURRENT.

عاملیت، فعل (یا رویه‌های) روزمره به مثابه مقامتی در برابر حذف شدن

میترا سلطانی چگونگی شکل‌گیری پروژه‌هایش براساس تجربیات خود  از بی‌ثباتی، فقدان عاملیت و زن بودن را به اشتراک می گذارد. این گفتگو به بررسی نقش‌های رو به تکامل هنرمند، اثر منحصر به فردی که از خود به جا می‌گذارند، و تلاقی جنسیت، بدنمندی، ژست و بافتار بومی در آثار او می‌پردازد. این گفتگو نه تنها به وظایف و محدودیت‌های هنرمندان در جامعه می‌پردازد، بلکه بر نقش حیاتی هنرمند در شکل‌دهی روایت‌های اجتماعی، قدرت هم‌نشینی و نقش متخصصان هنر در پل زدن میان عرصه‌های هنری محلی و جهانی تأکید می‌کند.

داوود مددپور: می‌خواهم گفتگو را با یک سوال کلی درباره مفهوم هنرمند بودن آغاز کنم. من معتقدم که مفهوم هنرمند بودن در دو بافتار مختلف؛ محلی و بین‌المللی، متفاوت است. ما که از خاورمیانه (با تمرکز بر جغرافیای اجتماعی و سیاسی آن) می‌آییم، ممکن است با فعالیت‌های هنری‌مان رنگ و بویی دیگر به مفهوم هنرمند بدهیم. با توجه به زندگی در این منطقه که دستخوش تغییرات اجتماعی و سیاسی مداوم است، چگونه رابطه‌ی شما با هنر در طول زمان تکامل یافته است؟

میترا سلطانی: در پروژه‌های اخیرم مانند Showing Transparency و A Number of Monuments، تجربه‌ی مستقیم از موضوع کارم بوده است. تجربه‌ی روزمره‌ی ناامنی و فقدان هر شکلی از ثبات، وضعیتی است که انسان/هنرمند را از احساس هر گونه “عاملیت” خالی می‌کند. در حال حاضر، کارکرد هنر برای من راهی برای مبارزه یا مقاومت در برابر احساس شیء شدگی در چنین وضعیتی‌ست که این راه شامل جمع‌آوری آرشیوها، کار با متریال کم‌ارزش یا کم‌دوام و همچنین جستجو در شیوه‌ی زندگی و هنر اقوام و عشایر می‌شود.

داوود: میترا نکته‌ی جالبی را مطرح کردی! به نظرت چگونه می‌توان این تناقض بین تهی بودن از عاملیت هنرمند و بهره‌گیری از شیوه‌ی هنری به عنوان راهی برای مبارزه، را کنار هم قرار داد؟

میترا: مثال‌ش همان شیوه‌ای است که در شکل زندگی و هنر زنان محلی می‌بینم که در این پروژه نیز الهام بخش من بوده است. این زنان بیشتر در شرایطی بسیار دشوار و با محدودیت‌های بی‌شماری از سوی جامعه، خانواده و طبیعت زندگی می‌کنند. اما همه‌ی این محدودیت‌ها باعث نمی‌شود که آن‌ها از عملکرد انفعالی برخوردار شوند، بلکه با به‌کارگیری هنر و آیین‌ ذره‌به‌ذره، تاثیرگذاری بر محیط اطراف خود دارند. این تاثیرگذاری عمیق‌تر می‌شود و به گسترش می‌پیوندد تا جایی که حتی بر سخت‌ترین و مردانه‌ترین ساختارهای جامعه‌شان نیز نفوذ می‌کند. برای من، تعریف عاملیت یک چنین چیزی است.

داوود: با قبول و پذیرش نقش هنرمند، آیا فکر می‌کنید که درگیر یک شرایط و سیستم خاصی شده‌ایم که ما را مجبور به ارتباط با آن و در نتیجه، به پرسش کشیدن و مورد خطاب قرار دادن‌ش می‌کند؟ آیا فکر می‌کنید که هنرمند اکنون خارج از نقش “سنتی” هنرمند بودن، نقش‌های دیگری را نیز بر عهده دارد؟

میترا: خود این سوال به نظرم ایجاد چالش می‌کند. من مفهوم نقش “سنتی” هنرمند بودن را به‌طور کامل درک نمی‌کنم. شاید منظور این باشد که نقش هنر به شکل سنتی‌اش تنها کارکرد استاتیکی داشته باشد و در طول زمان این کارکرد تغییر کرده باشد. اما من با این ایده موافق نیستم. هر مثالی که به ذهنم می‌آید، هرچند ممکن است تاریخی یا حتی سنتی باشد، هنرمند را همواره در حال طرح پرسش، به چالش کشیدن فرضیات و تغییر و تحول می‌بینم. بنابراین، فکر نمی‌کنم که هنرمند اکنون نقش جدیدی پذیرفته باشد؛ آنچه تغییر کرده، شیوه فکر کردن و بیان است که به اقتضای زمان تغییر کرده است.

درباره بخش اول سوال، از آنجایی‌که مهم‌ترین ویژگی هنر را آزادی می‌دانم، فکر نمی‌کنم که هنرمند در هیچ زمینه‌ای “مجبور” باشد. اما به شخصه، احساس می‌کنم در یک سیستم گیر افتاده‌ام و در حال تلاش برای یافتن راهی به بیرون هستم.

پریا فردوس: با توجه به اینکه از سیستمی نام بردی که در آن گیر افتادی سوال اول داوود را طور دیگری مطرح می کنم؛ آیا این تعلق بافتاری یک امر الزامی است؟ و اگر تعلق به این بافتار، جامعه‌ی مخاطب را محدود کند آیا برای هنرمند راهی وجود دارد که این محدودیت را در ارایه ی آثار خود کنار بزند؟ (چه در ارایه و چه در جامعه‌ی مخاطبان)

میترا: دست کم برای من و در شرایطی که اثر مورد بحث ساخته شده، بله من ناچار بودم و امکان اینکه منفک از بستر زیستم فکر یا خلق کنم را نداشتم . اساسا همین ناچاری و یا احساسی از درماندگی ایده‌ی اثر را شکل داد. در مورد محدودیت مخاطب به نظر من طبیعی است که هر اثر محدوده‌ی مخاطب خود را داشته باشد. من پروژه های زیادی را در طبیعت، محیط های بومی و فضا های عمومی و شهری ساخته‌ام که طیف گسترده‌ای از مخاطب را در بر داشته است و آثاری شبیه این پروژه، که احتمالا مخاطب محدودتری دارد. به عبارت دیگر چندان اصراری ندارم همه‌ی آثارم مخاطب یکسان یا گسترده‌ای داشته باشند.

پریا: در این راستا خود ذاتی هنرمند به عنوان یک انسان و حیات زیسته‌اش (در قالب یک ژست -روان و تن-) چه تاثیری بر تولید اثر دارد با توجه به اینکه برخی از کارهای برای من یادآور هانا ویکله و به خصوص آنا مندیتا است؟ (این سوال را در راستای صحبت خودت در مورد شیوه‌ی زیست زنان عشایر مطرح می‌کنم و اینکه چه‌طور جنسیت و بدنمندی در روشمندی و شیوه‌ی کاری تو ورود کرده است)

میترا: تصورش برای من سخت است که هنرمندی بتواند فارغ از تجربه‌ی زیسته‌اش به هنر فکر کند یا چیزی خلق کند. شاید تنها این مساله باشد که تا چه میزان این تاثیر ملموس است یا نه. اساسا ایده ی این اثر و بیشتر پروژه های من کاملا بر اساس تجربه‌ی زیسته‌ام در یک فرهنگ بومی و آیینی پدید آمده است، چه از نظر موضوع و چه از لحاظ شیوه‌ی کار. من به نوعی از هنر مفهوم گرا که در ارتباط با کنش های آیینی است گرایش دارم و ادبیات و طبیعت دیگر مولفه های مهم در تمرین هنری من هستند. همه این موارد مستقیما از حیات ذهن و جسم من در چنین موقعیتی ناشی میشود. مثال مشخص آن آثاری است که کاملا بر اساس رفتار آیینی شکل میگیرد و آیین مساله ای نیست که بتوان بیرون آن ایستاد و درکش کرد. همین موضوع به اهمیت مسئله تن و جنسیت درآثار من اهمیت می‌دهد چرا که نسبت میان تن و جنسیت و همچنین نوع گفتگوی این دو با طبیعت است که آیین‌ها را پدید می‌آورد.

داوود: از منظر شما چه عامل یا عواملی باعث تفاوت بین یک هنرمندی که احساس مسئولیت در قبال جامعه می‌کند با گروهی مانند سیاستمداران یا دانشمندان علوم اجتماعی که در پی تصور کردن و ساختن آینده‌ای جدید هستند، وجود دارد؟

میترا: به نظرم حتی منطقی‌تر است که به شباهت‌ها فکر کنیم تا تفاوت‌ها، به این دلیل که این تفاوت بسیار اساسی است. هنرمند آزادی، حساسیت و خلاقیتش را به کار می‌گیرد. او می‌تواند مسائل را درونی کند و جوانب غیر قابل لمس را به نمایش بگذارد. او مستقل از حدود و مرزهای هر دیسیپلینی حرکت می‌کند و از این رو نه به تشریح مسائل بلکه به ادراک فاجعه یا موقعیت ایده‌آل می‌پردازد. برای مثال، تجربه‌ی خودم از بعضی آثار هنری با دغدغه‌ی سیاسی-اجتماعی (در حرکت مدام میان اخبار و اطلاعات جهان امروز؛ موقعیتی که هر مهمی را به سرعت به امری پیش‌پا افتاده فرو می‌کاهد.) شبیه به یک وقفه یا مکث بوده است؛ وقفه‌ای که شیوه‌های دیگر دیدن و اندیشیدن را پیشنهاد می‌دهد و با کمک به خلاقیت، امید به تغییر را زنده نگه می‌دارد.

پریا: با پذیرش اینکه از نظر تو هنرمند بایستی سمت مردم بایستد تا چقدر این امر شدنی‌ست و در صورت تحقق چقدر تاثیر گذار، الهام‌بخش و کارکردی است؟ و آیا هنرمند بایستی خود را موظف به تاثیرگذار بودن بداند؟

میترا: نظر من الزاما این نیست که هنرمند باید سمت مردم بایستد و اساسا نمی توانم بایدی برای هنرمند تعریف کنم. من تنها می‌دانم که هنر بیش از هر چیز به آزادی نزدیک است یا بهتر است باشد. بنابراین در جامعه‌ای دیکتاتوری احتمالا در بیشتر موارد سمت آزادی سمت مخالف قدرت است.

در مورد موظف بودن هم چنان که گفتم نمی‌توانم وظیفه ای برای هنرمند قائل باشم، در مورد خودم می‌توانم بگویم بیشتر به تعهد نسبت به خود هنر می‌اندیشم. در باره‌ی کارکردی بودن آن مطمئن نیستم و خیلی بستگی به شرایط اجتماعی که در آن فعال هستیم دارد اما درباره‌ی الهام بخش بودن، موافقم که تلاش هنری اساسا الهام‌بخش است و می‌توان درباره‌ی کمیت و کیفیت آن فکر کرد.

پریا: و در ادامه آیا تنها هنرمند هست که در این جغرافیا باید بیانگر باشد یا باقی سمت‌های هنری مانند گالری‌دار، کیوریتور، دیلر و … هم تاثیرگذاری مستقیم و به شکل یک گروه و یا پازل را دارند؟ یا با تعبیری این کنارهم‌قرارگیری (juxtaposition) به نظرت چگونه باید باشد؟

میترا: فکر می‌کنم به هر شکلی از بیان‌گری یا تاثیرگذاری در هنر فکر کنیم حاصل مجموعه‌ای از انتخاب‌هاست. در این انتخاب‌ها طبیعتا بازیگران دیگر عرصه هنر همچون گالری‌دار، کیوریتور، دیلر، منتقد و.. نقش مهمی دارند. چنانکه بارها دیده‌ایم هنرمندانی با گفتمان برجسته به حاشیه رفته و تولیداتی نه چندان مهم در معرض توجه قرار گرفته‌اند. در مورد پروژه‌های من معمولا این کنار هم قرارگیری چندان موفق نبوده است، زیرا در چنین پروژه‌هایی هم نقش‌های دیگر از جمله گالری‌دار، کیوریتور و.. اهمیت بیشتر در ارائه اثر دارند و هم چالش‌های بسیاری وجود دارد که آنان را کمتر به چنین پروژه‌هایی متمایل می‌کند.

پریا: در این روند و تعامل هنر محلی و جهانی، هنر مدرن (امروز) ایران را کجای مختصات تصویر بزرگ هنر جهانی (big picture) می‌بینی؟

میترا: در مورد آثاری که به زمینه‌های بومی تعلق بیشتری دارند، من خیلی خوشبین نیستم. یعنی چندان نمونه‌های موفقی از نوع هنر را نمی‌شناسم. موفقیت منظور به رسمیت شناخته شدن به قول شما در مختصات تصویر جهانی. چرا که به نظرم نگاه جهانی/غربی به جوامع دیگر سهل‌انگارانه و همچنان استعماری است. به این معنا که همواره به تصاویر و ایده‌هایی سهل‌الوصول و اگزوتیک توجه نشان می‌دهند نه ایده‌هایی که به شناخت عمیق‌تر وابسته است.

The post Agency and Quotidian Practices as Resistance Against Omission—Mitra Soltani in conversation with Pariya Ferdos[se] and Davood Madadpoor appeared first on Sumac Space.

A journey that goes from the Mind or Mend the Gap, the 3-day exhibition and performances that took place in June 2024, as an output of the seminar Mobilizations (SuSe2024), held by Dr. Marianna Liosi, to the Listening into Hope radio broadcast that was shown on the 9th of July 2024 at the Refuge Worldwide Radio, as part of Dr. Anton Kats’ seminar Great Sound (SuSe2024). With the participation of several practitioners in the radio broadcast Listening into Hope, new narratives, sensitivities, practices, and spaces of resistance emerge.

Enjoy the listening!
Listening into Hope. Spatial Strategies

In this porous world, gaps form and dissolve as cracks between cliffs, spaces between words, or air currents weave through our lives, revealing hidden possibilities and challenges. “Mind the gap,” a warning that creates a certain urgency; “Mend the gap,” care that sews common or individual wounds. Through their works, artists aim to pay attention, search, and focus on those potential leakages as spaces of expression: to be filled, to perfect, to create anew–or, if not, then to traverse their inevitable presence. In the Mind or Mend the Gap (23 – 26 June 2024; Donaustrasse 84 12043, Berlin), students focused on the transformative potential of affect and empathy as tools for individual or collective mobilization online and offline.

Emma Lang’s audio installation magnified otherwise imperceptible experiences into limitless narratives through a poetic overexpression. Amanda Bobadilla’s political cartography had fragmented and reassembled satellite maps, tracing historical and personal migrations and challenging viewers to rethink geographic and socio-political boundaries. Bianca Lee’s drawings reflected the mutable nature of memory through the lens of Arctic cloudberries, using confabulation to reconstruct reality in response to trauma. Xiao Zhang’s paper rubbings of bone shapes and meat fat remnants addressed food scarcity and economic inequality, highlighting the deep social imprints of deprivation and abundance. Nischal Khadka’s installation brought the musical instruments Nāyākhi and its sounds to delve deeper into the historical and cultural context of ritualistic drum sounds of Kathmandu Valley, which were at risk of extinction. xindi’s installation and the sound performance represented suppressed voices and censored expressions through different plants and narrative poetry, evoking the fragility and resilience of self-expression.

A cooperation between M.A. Raumstrategien Kunsthochschule Berlin Weißensee, Sumac Space and Vereinigung für genreverbindende Kunstprojekte; Coordinated by Dr. Marianna Liosi

Text: Dr. Marianna Liosi
Photo credit: Xiao Zhang

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In “Transversal: Commons Tense & Antihegemonial Tactics,” Fatih Aydoğdu examines how art, media, and activism intersect to influence contemporary socio-political conditions. He argues that art’s visual language is deeply connotative, embedding cultural semantics that extend beyond mere representation. Digital arts, distinct from traditional forms, engage audiences actively, transforming art into a platform for socio-political critique. Aydoğdu highlights mass media’s role in shaping public opinion and emphasizes networked societies as new public spaces for communication. He situates art within broader socio-economic changes, advocating for its role in challenging hegemonic structures and fostering alternative social visions.

“The limits of my language…, the limits of my world …” ¹

An art practice, which operates by means of individual criteria and frame conditions, does not necessarily establish lasting (museal) merits, but creates a proper aesthetics of communication. Categories of analysis, tactical media, activist interventions react upon and/or influence the current social conditions. Via its pragmatics, swift or uncomplicated media produces a modality, which embraces the implementation of different procedures – aesthetical, activist or partly theoretical ones.

The connotative level of the visual, from the point of view of its contextual reference and positioning in different discursive meaning and association realms, denotes the point where al- ready coded signs meet the depth of the semantic code of a culture and adopt additional, more active dimensions. Here, there exists no pure objective (denotative) – and least of all natural – representation. Each visual sign (in a specific language) connotates a characteristic – a value or a conclusion – which is present depending on its connotating position as implication or implicated meaning.

The fields of preferred concepts hold social structures in the form of meanings, practices and opinions: the popular knowledge of social structures, of how all practical concerns function within this culture, of the ranking of power and interest and of the structures of legitimating, limitations and determinations. Thus, the chosen signs have to be related by means of codes to the order of the social life, to the economic, political power and the ideology, in order to make them readable. The term “reading” does not merely point at the capability to identify and decode a special number of signs, but it also addresses a subjective ability to relate these to other signs in a creative approach: a skill that is a precondition for conscious acting within an environment.

As long we can reflect upon ourselves through the world of art and reflect upon art through our world, the meaning of art can take on various forms and purposes, such as counter-balancing political conditions in the form of an upside-down-pissoir. Digital arts, takes the network society as its plane of resonance. Different than traditional/modern art, digital arts invites the audience to actively take part in the art work rather than merely provoking them. This quality is, of course, contained in the very nature of art. In a way, art functions to re-invent itself, time, and environment by responding and commenting on the socio-cultural and political contexts. By so doing, it creates other alternate visions while incorporating various available medium and technologies in order to achieve this goal. Here, politicization is not just an attitude operating through practices of production but it is an essential component of a concrete structural positioning. Art consists of a platform, which blends its field of interaction with creative, technical, and social energies by which it resolves and redefines such forces. It functions to pinpoint and question the contradictions and inconsistencies that operate within such forces that falls in its scope of analysis.

The strategies used or described in art are not limited to innovation or tradition. In this sense, each artwork may function as a ‘shifter’ among other artworks, meaning, it comments on the world on the basis of its differentiation to other artworks. From a societal perspective, this differentiation does not only function to ‘label’ the work of art according to its form (such as ‘revolutionary’, ‘innovative’, ‘epigonal’). Rather, art attains its meaning on the basis of its positioning within a certain social context, which entails artworks that are not as strongly related to the public domain such as Art in Public spaces, Street Art, mobile- applications or participatory art. Top- down-art is art that we obtain one way or another, bottom-up-art is art that we need to obtain one way or another. Each artwork is a question addressed at society at large.

Despite the common association of network society with omnipresent control and surveillance (which could perhaps explain why traditional arts tend to lean towards individualization and a-socialization), social media, network structures, and the Internet are perhaps the final “public space” that we possess as individuals today.

Massmedia (as a passive consumption device), which have rapidly influenced our everyday life since the second half of the 19th century, play a strong role in determining our agenda at present. Since the decrease in the political and social connotations of “public space” in a modernist, transparent, and cognitive society, “massmedia” has taken on a central role in the creation and dissemination of meaning, taking public opinion under its hegemony and replacing “knowledge” -so important to cognitive society- with metaphors of “meaning” and “opinions”.

Here, “public” denotes a passive monitoring formula. On the one hand, “public” designates the impossibility of going beyond the internal operations of the system; on the other hand, it points to the possibility of new types of communication with other external systems. Hence, the meaning and ideas produced by the media do not actually represent the opinion of the public.

The rapid rise of the turbocapitalist system resulting from the fall of the iron curtain in 1989 and the cold war, the loss of public commons as a result of the privatization necessary for “economic growth”, the crises of participatory democracy, the dilemma between transnationalism and nationalisms, the decrease of individual rights after 9/11 under the banner of protection from terror, religion wars, our irresponsible consumption of world resources, financial crises, bankruptcies emerging from the management of democratic states as private companies released from social responsibilities, the diminishment of working rights and essential social structures of a society, moving towards (social, political, and economic) erosion as a result of the growing gap between different classes, in society: although we may have become accustomed and insensitive to the daily catastrophic images imposed on us by massmedia, we believe that this description of our current situation is not exaggerated.

¹ Ludwig Wittgenstein: Tractatus logico-philosophicus

This text is published before, in the catalogue of the Exhibition “Commons Tense/Müşterekler Zamanı” (amberTXT/BIS), Curated by Fatih Aydoğdu and Ekmel Ertan, Den Haag/NED 2012
In frame of the Todays Art Festival 2012 

By connecting social media with discussions on ecology, society, and participatory democracy from a social organizational perspective, “Commons Tense/ Müşterekler Zamanı” establishes an alternative platform for re-constructing urgent societal questions, to search for solutions to existing and future crises, to advocate the need for self-organization within the hegemony of market economy, which privatizes all aspects of everyday life.

Digital Commons are platforms offering tools, information, theory, art, and culture that are open for public and are free. Commons are what we share with others. Commons/ Müşterekler is a new form of expression that goes beyond the hegemony of the market and centralized modes of control and, therefore, it is a kind of language.

“Commons Tense / Müşterekler Zamanı” designates a hypothetical language that goes beyond local and national data to discuss certain problems, and to produce alternative options within the current social, economic, and political systems in which we live in.

It establishes a foresight to think beyond borders physically and intellectually, within and without the system.

https://issuu.com/ekmelertan/docs/commons_tense

Fatih AYDOĞDU (b. 1963 | Turkey) lives and works in Vienna and Istanbul. He studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Istanbul and graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna. Aydoğdu is a conceptual visual artist, designer, curator, writer, and sound artist, focusing on concepts of media aesthetics, migration & identity politics, and linguistic issues. He participated in numerous exhibitions throughout Europe, Asia, and the USA. He was the publisher of Turkey’s first media art magazine, “hat” (1998). He worked a.o. as a member of the Curatorial Board of ‘amberPlatform,’ an art & technology platform based in Istanbul, between 2011 and 2019.

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Zahra Zeinali’s works offer a mesmerizing journey into the realm of dreams and imagination. Through the skillful use of dim and dark acrylic colors, they craft an ambiance that feels simultaneously enchanting and mysterious. Their unique style, featuring little girls encircled by an array of figures ranging from dolls and toys to animals, clowns, newborns, and even monsters, evokes a dreamlike fantasy that captivates the viewer’s senses.

With every brush stroke, the artist creates a delicate balance between innocence and eerie beauty. The incorporation of various elements within a single composition not only showcases their technical prowess but also speaks to a deeper narrative that lies within each piece. This juxtaposition of the familiar and the uncanny encourages contemplation and invites the audience to explore the complex emotions stirred by their art. One of the most striking aspects of Zeinali’s work is her exceptional use of color. Whether it is bold and vibrant hues that dominate her pieces in other periods of her works or the subtle and subdued shades she employs to convey mood in her latest series, her mastery of color theory is evident. Each stroke of her brush seems deliberate and purposeful, resulting in a harmonious interplay of tones that breathe life into her subjects.

Intricacy and attention to detail are hallmarks of Zahra Zeinali’s artworks. Upon closer examination, viewers are treated to a wealth of intricate patterns, textures, and hidden elements that enrich the visual experience. This attention to detail invites the observer to take their time exploring each piece, discovering new nuances with each gaze. The artist’s choice of subjects, especially the portrayal of little girls, adds an air of nostalgia and vulnerability to the artwork. The figures seem to be caught in a liminal space where reality and fantasy intertwine, blurring the lines between the conscious and subconscious. This lends a thought-provoking quality to their pieces, prompting viewers to reflect on the intricacies of childhood, memory, and the ethereal nature of dreams.

Zeinali’s ability to infuse her art with emotion is a testament to her skill as a storyteller. Her pieces are tales of longing, joy, and introspection, drawing viewers into a narrative that’s as captivating as it is relatable. This talent for evoking feelings is what truly makes her artworks come alive, transforming them from mere visual spectacles into windows to the soul.

However, what truly sets Zeinali apart is her unique perspective on both memory and the human experience. Her pieces often exude a sense of nostalgia, invoking memories and emotions long forgotten. Whether she is capturing the delicate beauty of a fading object or the quiet contemplation of a solitary figure, there’s an underlying depth to her work that resonates with audiences on a profound level.

In conclusion, her artworks are a tour de force of creativity and expression. With a keen eye for color, an unwavering dedication to detail, and an innate ability to tap into the human experience, she invites us on a journey. Zeinali’s pieces are not just static images; they’re living, breathing stories that beckon viewers to immerse themselves in her world of imagination and emotion. The artist’s masterful execution of acrylic techniques, combined with their thematic exploration of dreamscapes filled with figures and objects, forms a body of visually striking and emotionally evocative work. Their ability to conjure a sense of wonder while delving into the enigmatic corners of the mind is a testament to their artistic prowess, making their portfolio a must-see for those seeking to experience art that transcends conventional boundaries.

_ Hamidreza Karami
August 8, 2023

Hamidreza Karami (curator, researcher, art consultant, translator, writer, and visual artist), studied Visual Arts & Photography (B.A.) at the Faculty of Art and Architecture of Azad University, Tehran (2002-2006) and Philosophy of Art (M.A.) at the Tehran University of Art (2008-2010). He started his artistic activity in the fields of photography, video art, drawing, painting, and installation since the 2000s, and has exhibited his works in many individual and group exhibitions in Iran and abroad. Organizing and curating more than dozens of exhibitions of the works of modern and contemporary Iranian artists inside and outside the country is the result of his work as a curator during these years. He has also researched, translated and authored dozens of articles in the field of art. He collaborated in the compilation of a three-volume Encyclopedia of Art in Farsi (under the supervision of Ruyin Pakbaz at Farhang-e Moaser Publications), and has been a guest lecturer at the Tehran University of Arts since the early 2010s. Authoring the book Introduction to Modern and Contemporary Art of Iran, Turkey and the Arab World is his current project, which will be published by Contemporary Art Publications in collaboration with Lajevardi Foundation.

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In au-delà, Zahra Zeinali uses the prism of her experiences as an Iranian immigrant to examine themes of exile, displacement, and trauma. She employs it to explore the sensations and memories of loneliness and vulnerability, expressing the agony and concussion of being uprooted and forced to navigate an unknown backdrop.

In the following text, we extend an invitation to read about four series featured in the exhibition: Perdu (2020), REM (2021), Elle ferma les yeux (2021), and Adaptation (2021-2022).

The Perdu series (2020) marked a significant turning point in the Zahra Zeinali’s life. After spending seven years in Paris, she returned to Iran with a strong desire to rediscover a sense of belonging that had eluded her in her adopted country. However, upon her return, she found that both she and her homeland had undergone significant changes, leading to a profound disconnection between them. This resulted in a feeling of rootlessness, characterized by loneliness, emptiness, and uncertainty.

During this period of self-exploration, Zeinali focused on questions of identity, reflecting on her past and present self, while also delving into her inner world with great curiosity. This introspective journey revealed a hidden realm of depth and complexity that had silently accompanied her throughout her life, unknown to her.

In her paintings from this phase, the use of the color was notably limited to white, red, and black hues. She believed that vibrant colors represented the external world, whereas the inner world required a more muted representation.

The narrative of her work revolved around a central figure, a young girl, surrounded by personal artifacts such as vintage dolls from Parisian second-hand stores, self-made masks, fabrics, and theater-inspired puppets. These elements were arranged in front of a dimly lit backdrop, evoking a theatrical stage where the unfolding drama takes place in an obscure black box, hidden from the audience’s full view. This symbolic approach conveyed the idea that human perception provides only a partial glimpse of truth, much like witnessing only a fraction of events backstage. Zeinali assumed the role of a theatrical director, skillfully orchestrating these representations on the stage to manifest various states of mind and inner emotions—a manifestation rooted in a cognitive perspective.

The series REM (2021) and Elle ferma les yeux (2021-2022) continued to focus on the inner world she had discovered—a realm characterized by contradictions, fears, and dreams, akin to the enigmatic nature of dreams or nightmares. Zeinali translated this peculiar inner world onto canvas, naming the collection “PARADOX SLEEP (REM),” which denotes the state between deep slumber and wakefulness, where reality and imagination converge, echoing the essence of her paintings.

The paintings in these series featured doll-like figures often shrouded in shadows, resembling theatrical scenes. The overall outlook towards the world and reality was somewhat pessimistic and bitter. The backgrounds of the paintings avoided depicting specific locations or spaces, emphasizing the emergence of the characters from darkness, like figures on a theater stage. Zeinali’s choice of colors remained limited, with a focus on using acrylic as her medium, resulting in expressive and emotionally intense paintings from subjective perspectives.

The series Elle ferma les yeux (2021) was influenced by a deeply unfortunate event in her life toward the end of 2021, leaving its impact until late 2022. During this period, new colors, such as blue and yellow, were introduced, imbued with symbolic meanings. As a result, the artworks gradually incorporated surrealistic procedure, prompting contemplation on death and the intricacies of the human subconscious. This phase revealed Zahra Zeinali’s newfound sense of independence in her expression.

The essence of each entity’s existence, as perceived by the artist, holds a bitter and disconcerting truth. As she delved deeper into exploration, more unsettling facets of this truth surfaced. This newfound understanding of the world significantly influenced the artist’s actions and mindset, leading her to question the very meaning and purpose of life.

She grapples with the daunting task of navigating life in a peculiar and fearsome world. This internal struggle gave rise to the Adaptation (2021-2022) series. In these artworks, subtle shifts in the main characters’ dispositions are portrayed, reflecting a sense of acceptance of one’s circumstances and a confrontation with enigmatic and unsettling realities. This phase is deemed crucial and challenging, as it aids in reconciling the artist’s relationship with both herself and the world.

Technically, Zahra Zenali embarks on a journey into unknown territory by using relatively larger canvases for the first time. The characters in the artworks move from unfamiliar spaces to more familiar places that remind us of untouched nature. The artworks show the coexistence of unique entities and characters, blending together harmoniously in a single frame, without any resistance or conflict against each other. Her subsequent works, while not explicitly labeled as part of the Adaptation series, continue to be strongly influenced by her explorations during this period.

_ In conversation with Zahra Zeinali

Zahra Zeinali (b. 1975) completed her bachelor’s degree in painting from the Islamic Azad University of Tehran and worked as an art instructor for fifteen years. She developed an interest in photography and studied analog photography at the House of Iranian Photographers. In 2012, Zahra relocated to Paris to continue her artistic journey as a painter. Later, in 2022, she completed her studies at the EFET Photographie École. This milestone prompted her to explore merging the two techniques in her recent works. Additionally, she commenced her role as an art teacher for children and young students at Le Cercle des Arts in 2022, allowing her to tap into the realm of childhood inspiration. 

Zeinali has participated in several groups and solo exhibitions, including the recent Le Pays des Merveilles, Le Monde Invisible at Galerie Claire Corcia, and Alerte Rouge at Galerie Linda Farrell, Femme Vie Liberté at Galerie Sahar K. Boluki, Artcité à Fontenay, Comparaison au Grand Palais Éphémère, and Figuration Critique à Salon de Dessin Paris, among others.

A:D: Curatorial runs by two young curators from the USA and Ukraine, Christy Woody and Maria Isserlis, the mission of the space is to focus on creating a platform for today’s innovative artists to be heard in a non-commercial environment. Inviting artists from around the world, we aim to keep the cultural bridges open for collaborations, exchanges, and the development of new works. Through young, vibrant voices in the current art and music scene, we would like to thoughtfully reflect on the current political, social and environmental climate and progress with a successful example of cooperation in the field of art and culture in Berlin.

The post Zahra Zeinali:au-delà—Zahra Zeinali in Conversation with Davood Madadpoor appeared first on Sumac Space.

In this exchange between Davood Madadpoor, Katharina Ehrl, and Ali Eslami, Eslami delves into his ongoing project “False Mirror” and its implications for understanding the intersection of virtual reality, identity, memory, and artistic practice. He reflects on how “False Mirror” has evolved from a speculative future to a complex parallel world, intricately intertwined with his daily experiences. Through meticulous attention to detail and the exploration of memory within the virtual realm, Eslami challenges conventional notions of truth and expands the possibilities of artistic expression.

Davood Madadpoor / Katharina Ehrl: I’m assuming you’re thinking a lot about futures by engaging on such a lengthy project, False Mirror, which began in 2017. As an extension of that, I’m saying you’re thinking about every detail of this future. As you mentioned, the primary motivation for this project is wondering if humans would ever be supposed to live in a virtual world and how we would do so. What about this future intrigues you? What is it about this that compels you to devote all of your time to it?

Ali Eslami: I think that’s how I saw it initially, as a pre-construction of a future that could happen, but the more I spent time building it, the more it became intertwined with the present and my daily experiences in life. So it’s kind of hard to think of False Mirror as a future world at the moment, but for me, it implies a space that contains its temporality in which I respond to it by contributing my time to this parallel world.

The concept of expansion, engineering of a new reality, this whole process has remained the core of my practice for a long time. The more I tend to model every detail and function within this world, the more complex and sometimes out of control it gets. It has become a sandbox reality that I can rebuild, grow, modify, archive, and play with all at once.

To a great extent, it’s similar to a kid in a playground playing with modular toys (Lego); the tools at hand and building blocks can be reshaped through imagination. They can be torn apart, destroyed, rebuilt, and expanded.

As a practice, this engineering of other worlds brings a lot of exciting methods and reflections to the reality of life itself. So it functions almost like a feedback loop between the real and unreal. And I think that’s the main reason it remains an exciting parallel world to work on and approach as a process that’s always ongoing rather than a project with an end goal.

Besides, it’s pretty amazing and fun at times to see different aspects of the world that become incompatible and cause various bugs and glitches, which can be quite inspiring when it happens! That’s something I’ve learned by making this world: that it always has certain unstable corners/moments in which things fall apart and get loose, and I find it quite fascinating and surprising when it happens.

For example, two years ago, I encountered this glitch (because of an error in my programming) that would load different spaces all together overlapping each other (instead of unloading the previous ones), resulting in multiplied spaces that in VR was a magnificent experience in itself!

DM / KE: In False Mirror, not only is the world expanding, but the body is also evolving, acquiring skills, becoming more capable, and becoming more alienated. Do you believe that this new identity—or as we’ll refer to it, this new virtual identity—is needed to escape reality? Can’t we just be ourselves in this fictitious world?

AE: I think the whole idea of the body, at least in my work, is an element that gets explored in relation to its virtual surroundings. So these bodies we talk about have the role of a pawn. They are vessels that allow anyone to embody and navigate the new world through them. Almost like what a car is for us. We drive the car, and as driver, we become one with the vehicle itself.

When I put the VR headset on and start an experience in False Mirror through a modular posthumous body, I am indeed still my (real) self, but the mechanics of my body has been replaced by a new form. I’m curious how these virtual bodies that we take over can merge with those who inhabit them. Identity becomes a question mark when anyone can embody a character in False Mirror.

This aspect of virtual identities sometimes gets overblown in the mainstream digital culture, where it’s mainly being advertised as a space to ‘freely be yourself’. However, this doesn’t take into account how much of your new body, which represents you in these worlds, shapes who you are and, to some extent, blurs with your own identity.

DM / KE: The future is derived from what was and what is. How are memories connected to these alternate realities you create? Or what role do they play?

AE: The fact is that the project’s been growing since 2017. I have always had a tendency to record and archive as much as I can because having an archive of memories of a world in expansion is a fantastic tool for thinking and reflecting back on quite deep levels and layers of the ground reality that is being shaped around you.

In fact, in this video performance I’m showing at The Tellers, I explore the memory within the context of False Mirror. The sandbox notion of this world allows us to rethink what memory can be like. For instance, throughout my walkthrough video I reveal some memories of things that never happened or have a chance of happening in the future!

Another way of playing with it is that memories in this example are pinned to virtual zones within spaces, and they can only be seen/revisited by navigating to those zones. This makes me think about what a world might look like if we could only access our memories based on our location in the world. In that world, would we keep moving from place to place to access more memories or the other way around?

No matter how ridiculous it might sound, one can speculate about it in a virtual world like False Mirror.

DM / KE: You stated that reality becomes more fictional as your artistic practice develops; I’m curious as to where you wake up in the morning. In the False Mirror or your Amsterdam apartment?

AE: I think the distinction between fiction and non-fiction is itself a human construct. What we call non-fiction or ground truth is based on a lot of things we take for granted.

The same concept applies to a virtual world. The more time spent, the more presence, makes it more accurate, and of course it becomes more real to someone like me—who spent lots of time creating and, at the same time, experiencing it—than to a person who’s only spent 1 hour in there.

Another way to look at it is by comparison with how social media feels like a world of its own. When I scroll through Instagram while I’m on a train ride, I get sucked completely into its world and, whether I like it or not, my brain functions and even feels things differently in those states. And in effect, we constantly shift between these micro realities in our routine daily life.

DM / KE: How do you perceive False Mirror’s position as an artwork? I came to this question through the intersection of several concepts; in one sense, if you have a title such as Virtual Reality Developer, it implies that others might wonder whether False Mirror is a game. Additionally, during our discussions about putting together the exhibition The Tellers, we came across the need for additional technology and skills to show how virtual reality works, even though I was doubtful that we have the necessary infrastructure to do so.

AE: I think the process of world-building in general, whatever the medium, is an artistic practice. It requires the involvement of so many different disciplines such as architecture, game design, sound, system design, cybernetics, and so forth. As a result, all these come together and merge with the power of imagination. 

But speaking of media—in my case VR as an emerging technology—I’m aware of how demanding presentation of the work can be technically. This makes the presentation of the work to a large extent inaccessible. And that’s what I found challenging in my artistic practice. And in response, I realized that my outcomes/results don’t have to stay in the VR headset waiting to be experienced. My source of work remains in VR, but the outcome can become manifest in different media such as live performance in video format, text, films, or even a physical installation.

Of course, the final experience of the work itself is radically different when it’s being watched instead of experiencing hands-on VR. But at the same time, there are things that one can express in a video format that are not possible in VR, and I try to respond to these constraints in a way that, as far as possible, doesn’t compromise the core conceptual intentions within the work.

DM / KE: During our conversation, you said that you’re shifting to narrative video. You mentioned trying to deal with the untranslatability of various aspects of reality when attempting to incorporate it into a False Mirror world, both technically and emotionally. Could you elaborate on this and discuss your new approach?

AE: As I said, the core of my practice remains in VR (where the world is being built). But video, which is a new field for me, opens up a lot of great potential for storytelling and narrative, which I can’t express otherwise.

The notion of editing and how you can play with time fragments is almost inaccessible in VR. In a VR experience, everything happens in real-time and moment to moment. In a video, temporality is more liquid and can be shaped to tell a broader narrative. On the other hand, I’ve also been working with VR for seven years already and I feel this shift can be quite refreshing and there are a lot of amazing things to learn that I can grow further with. Meanwhile, making a physical installation that carries the video work is another thing I’m exploring that adds a new dimension to the creative process. Some aspects of the narrative and world-building can be maintained in the real world or emphasized using tangible physical objects that respond to the overarching narrative of the film.

Ali Eslami is an artist and engineer from Iran based in Amsterdam who has been active and experimenting with virtual reality since 2014. His work involves long-term research projects that build up and grow over time through speculations and world-building by carefully observing the nature of reality, the human condition, and constructs that are taken for granted, and trying to push it further to extreme or twisted thresholds.
An obsession with cybernetics deriving from his engineering background leads to creating worlds in aspects of both form and function. These experiences manifest as realities that blur fictional and non-fictional narratives, striving to articulate possible futures while questioning the restraints of space, time, and body.
In 2016, his VR project won the IDFA DocLab Award for Best Immersive non-fiction and in 2020 the Golden Calf for Best interactive at the Nederlands Film Festival (Nerd_Funk). Aside he is co-curator at STRP Festival and programme advisor at IDFA Doclab.

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The post Ali Eslami–On the Creation of Virtual Spaces with their own Temporality–Ali Eslami in conversation with Katharina Ehrl and Davood Madadpoor appeared first on Sumac Space.

In conjunction with the exhibition The Tellers, Villa Romana hosted a one-day symposium on Saturday, 19 March 2022, starting at 11 am. The symposium aimed to propose and discuss key points of the exhibition through contributions by Nat Muller (Independent curator, writer, and academic), and Santiago Zabala (Research Professor of Philosophy at the Pompeu Fabra University in Barcelona, Spain), followed by a public discussion and concluded with a lecture-performance by Mohamed Abdelkarim.

Listen to recorded audio on Radio Papesse by clicking here.

Programme

11:00
Welcome by Angelika Stepken, director of Villa Romana
Davood Madadpoor, Introduction to the platform Sumac Space

11:15
Katharina Ehrl, Introduction to the symposium

11:30 [Cancelled]
Raffaella Baccolini, Memory, Language, and Storytelling as Resistance.

Baccolini’s contribution will analyze the role and importance of language, communication, storytelling, and memory as forms of resistance. Classical, traditional dystopia often employs the convention of a rediscovered book from the past as one of the tools that awaken the dystopian protagonist(s). By looking at how contemporary critical dystopias have renewed and updated the convention of the forbidden book, she will analyze the importance of language and storytelling – and their link with communication, memory, and negotiation – not only as a means of helping the protagonists survive but also as a way of withstanding the dystopian world. Language, its recovery, and its use represent the need to strive for a difficult, complex resistance that often starts from the acceptance of a negotiated (inter)dependence. In the present climate of racism and hatred, which manifests itself through the dehumanizing policies that black people, migrants, and refugees face throughout the world today, these works offer a timely reflection on literacy and negotiation as tools of resistance. They are also what is necessary to maintain hope even in extreme conditions of oppression.

12:30
Santiago Zabala, Where is the Future? Warnings through Art

Philosophy is a warning, that is, a request to become involved in signs that concern our future. These signs can refer to our existence, environment, or even politics. The problem is that, contrary to predictions, warnings are weak, vague, and unclear concepts (in the form of an announcement) that are often ignored. This is probably why they are frequently discarded as useless or insignificant – much like environmentalists, philosophers, and artists – when in fact they are vital. Unlike an objective representation in the mind, warnings can be understood only through interpretation, that is, an involvement that concerns our existence. Recent philosophies of animals, plants, and insects are branches of this philosophy since they also warn us of specific issues that we ignore such as biodiversity loss or climate change. What often emerges in great art, as well as in other realms of human practice, is not a representation of beauty but rather the disclosure of an event that is invisible to our aesthetic senses, intellectual skills, and cultural interests. Today art often works better than scientific announcements as a way to reveal warnings. This is not an effect merely of the artists’ ability to create beauty, but rather of the intensity and depth of their works. Documentary photographs of the ongoing ice caps melting, for example, can be truthful but are rarely as powerful as the works of art that address this emergency. When art addresses our warnings, the future reveals itself.

14:30
Nat Muller, Futuring is a Verb: Looking for Possibility through Ruins in Contemporary Art from the Middle East

This presentation puts two premises to the test by drawing on the work of contemporary artists from the Middle East including: Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour, Lebanese artists and filmmakers Joana Hadjithomas and Khalil Joreige, Kuwaiti artist Monira Al Qadiri, and Lebanese artist Akram Zaatari. Firstly, it asks whether ruins can be considered as motifs of futurity rather than being markers of decay and entities locked in the past. Secondly, it asks what type of speculative images, imaginaries, and political positions are required to unlock this potential and see the future through the wreckage. How does the extension of the ruin’s temporality in a forward-looking way change its meaning, and what kind of social dreaming can be tied into it? What novel possibilities does such an approach offer historically, politically, and artistically?

16:00
Public discussion moderated by Nat Muller

Lecturers’ Bios

Raffaella Baccolini teaches Gender Studies and American and British Literature at the University of Bologna, Forlì Campus. She has published numerous articles on women’s writing, dystopia and science fiction, trauma and memory, modernism, and young adult literature. She has edited several volumes, including Transgressive Utopianism: Essays in Honor of Lucy Sargisson (with Lyman Tower Sargent, 2021), Utopia, Method, Vision: The Use Value of Social Dreaming (also with Tom Moylan, 2007) and Dark Horizons: Science Fiction and the Dystopian Imagination (with Tom Moylan, 2003). She is currently working on kindness, solidarity, and feminist education as utopian, political acts.

Santiago Zabala is ICREA Research Professor of Philosophy at the Pompeu Fabra University in Barcelona. He is the author of many books, including Being at Large: Freedom in the Age of Alternative Facts (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2020) and Why Only Art Can Save Us: Aesthetics and the Absence of Emergency (Columbia University Press, 2017). His opinion articles have appeared in The New York Times, Al-Jazeera, and The Los Angeles Review of Books, as well as other international media.

Nat Muller is an independent curator and writer with expertise in contemporary art from the Middle East. She is a regular contributor to international art publications such as Ocula and Hyperallergic and has edited a variety of monographs on artists including Walid Siti (Kehrer Verlag, 2020), Nancy Atakan’s Passing On (Kehrer Verlag, 2016), and Sadik Kwaish Alfraji (Schilt Publishing, 2015). She has curated video and film screenings for Rotterdam’s International Film Festival (NL), Norwegian Short Film Festival (NO), International Short Film Festival Oberhausen (DE), and Video D.U.M.B.O (USA), among others. Recent exhibition projects include the Danish Pavilion for the 58th Venice Biennale (2019), featuring Palestinian artist Larissa Sansour and the group show Trembling Landscapes: Between Reality and Fiction at Amsterdam’s Eye Filmmuseum (2020). She is completing an AHRC-funded PhD at Birmingham City University on science fiction in contemporary art from the Middle East.

Video: Giulia Lenzi

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