This is the review posted by Jørgen Larsson on the art criticism web site Kunstkritikk.no. Since it is a very critical review which addresses the works of individual artists I have chosen to take the trouble to translate it and re-publish it with Jørgen’s consent. Kunstkritikk functions as a debate space, responses can be posted to the original Kunstkritikk article or as comments here.

Generative processes in shrinkwrapped design 29.09.05

By Jørgen Larsson
Translated by Marius Watz

As the exhibition Generator.x opens at the National Museum it is only natural that expectations in the electronic art scene run high. We who have followed recent developments in “generative art” know that this art is more than ready for this symbolic stamp of approval, which also will make it known to the rest of the Norwegian art scene. For this reason it is disappointing to see that the formal structuring of curator Marius Watz destroys what could otherwise have been a challenging and thought-provoking exhibition. The designer has won over the communicator, and the works come across as one-dimensional and bereft of content. With this being the case, it is a good thing that at least the concert section of the project helped to improve impressions somewhat.

The concert
Let me put it straight: I love Erich Berger. It’s so tight, so improbably primitive and formally uncompromising that I can’t help but bow to his mastery. Berger’s Tempest is an extremely rigid “live Malevich”. The work takes as its starting point a technology surrounded by myth, originally used for radio surveillance of computer monitors. Here the very same technology is used to connect sound and image in a primitive way. Only one note is used. The only change is the color of the tone, its spectrum of overtones and its rhythm. As the sound is directly responding to the image on the screen the interaction between sound and image is reduced to a minimum. Berger is wearing an artistic straitjacket, and it suits him well. The use of surveillance technology and the multiplying black and white squares is a simple yet effective conceptual device.

After a somewhat embarrassing concert with TinyLittleElements the evening went on with HC Gilje and Kelly Davis’ improv duo Blind. The ever-present almost olfactory tactility of Gilje’s work, which through the lighting of images and film fragments conjures up surfaces one would think it impossible to represent in two dimensions, is combined with a dramaturgy and sureness of expression that impresses greatly. Nevertheless he dares to introduce elements in his video work that threaten to dilute both drama and tactility. Noise and orange squares combined with images of a closed eye and pine trees? It is precisely in these juxtapositions that Gilje shows off his stylistic precision and intuition. His video, combined with the Davis’ sounds, formed an elegant progression with ingredients of sleep, hinted at in darkness as well as vivid “flashbacks”.

Process and interactions
All three performances featured elements of live interaction between artist and machine. Still this does not constitute improvisation as we know it in the musical and dramatic arts. So what is it that makes the artist’s interaction such a necessary component? – Couldn’t these works equally well be played back from a DVD? My answer is no, because these process-based performances are not complete and closed works. Even if the audience had seen and heard the same at the playback of a DVD, they are by the artist’s presence made aware of the possibility of a different screening. The work can produce infinite variations of itself, all different and unique, but built on the same process. Here lurks the thought of creating life, or rather, living processes. In this way the generative art can be a radical art, where basic premises for the appreciation of art are challenged. Not as a provocation, but as a silent demand that the audience take the time to immerse themselves in the processes, to be overwhelmed by the wealth and contemplative aspects of generative mass production.

The exhibition
It is in this aspect that the exhibition at the National Museum fails. Even if the pieces that are shown are in themselves good, they lose in the battle against the overly formatted and thoroughly designed mode of presentation. Everything that exists of critical thinking about the relationship between screen, machine, interactivity and museum is by Marius Watz unconsciously eradicated as non-existing. Here process-based works are shown as static prints in square boxes, and interactive works taken out of context without explanation. This square and formatted presentation seems unmotivated and without basis in the works on display. Golan Levin’s Secret Lives of Numbers from 2002 loses much of its strange mystery when shown like this, as does Ben Fry’s project Haplotype Structures.

In both these works it is important that the audience itself can choose what they want to examine in more detail, or what process to follow. These are some of the challenges a curator encounters in preparing this type of art for showing in the gallery. In the Generator.x show it seems that the content has lost the battle against the design (of the show). Two print display cubes in steel and four specially designed boxes form a consistent and tasteful installation that regrettably gives the uniqueness of the individual works a beating. This also applies to the three “living” works, where the audience can control the works from inside the box, while the visual result is projected on the end wall. The audience outside the box can follow the image, as the end wall also functions as a rear projection.

In my opinion it is only the work of Sebastian Oschatz that survives this formatting, even if the work strictly speaking “only” is a development of the classic Game of Life principle. Oschatz’ variation tells a simple tale of life, reproduction and death, and makes the audience responsible by their role as creators of these “worlds”. Lia’s work shows above all that screen-based mouse controlled process-oriented art must be reworked for showing in the gallery. The images is created through dots and circles in a constant flow of lines and figures. Even if the work is beautiful the interface becomes an obstacle. Something happens in the image when I touch the mouse and I can control many factors in the generation of the image, but I feel none of responsibility that I had in Oschatz’ piece. Casey Reas’ Process 8 is the weakest of the three. The user can turn on a small wheel, but nothing of interest happening on the projected surface. It is too bad to see an artist of Reas’ caliber deliver such a feeble piece.

What is even worse is that the works are reduced to decorations on three containers that seem unreasonably large, and that the exhibition space more than anything presents as a commercial fair. It is too bad, because this could have been an opportunity to show the potential in an art field long filed under “lacking in substance”. Unfortunately, Generator.x simply works as a confirmation of this perception.

An honest exception is the sound installation by Trond Lossius. The audience moves inside one of the well-designed containers to experience a generative soundscape in four channels. Associations to films like Mad Max and 2001: A Space Odyssey strike me, there is desert and steaming sun inside the black box. Very evocative.

We have seen generative art for quite some time now. A central issue that is always raised when showing this kind of art is the relationship between process, interactivity, development and the “finished” presentation in the gallery / museum. When these issues are absent the curator appears to be naive and unconsidered. But that’s not the worst. The worst is that the art appears to be poor.