Publications 2002

Terrorism and Aesthetic Experience or Have a Cigar Buddy!

Terrorism and Aesthetic Experience or Have a Cigar Buddy!


Aesthetic experience is a late product in a range of aesthetic concepts extending from evaluative concepts such as beauty to descriptive ones such as harmony. It is traditionally associated with the high art tradition, and as we know a by-product of the appreciation of art in the 18th and 19th centuries. This tradition transformed the fine arts into ivory towers preserved by museums, art critics and art researchers, and as such rarely addressed the practical needs of everyday life. The sudden death of folk art, however, would soon be replaced by popular art and mass media outlets.

Even the ancients discussed topics related to subsequent conceptions of aesthetic experience, often within the framework of the painful process Aristotle called catharsis. The classical conception is similar to the modern conception of art in its insistence on being the last word in a lengthy aesthetic and artistic tradition. Both conceptions are weighted toward the needs of high culture.

As we know the story continues with the post-modern turn and the liberating effects of applying concepts such as aesthetics and aesthetic experience to ever widening areas of popular culture.

But the deep historical ties which connect beauty, artistry, warfare and aesthetic experience seem to be forgotten. Helen of Troy caused a war because of her beauty, and those of us who have had the pleasure (or have been forced) to read Homer will recall the passage where the mother of all poets describes a shield in exceedingly admiring fashion. There is even less need to invoke the evidence of Homer’s gleeful descriptions of the wars waged by the mighty Achaeans. The art of war has remained an important thread throughout history. Depending on the context, more or less pornographic and vivid descriptions and representations of warfare, violence, and terrorism have occurred in the works of artists as diverse as Tommaso Marinetti, Stuart Home and John Woo.

Only a fool would underestimate the combined power of beauty and warfare. The disturbing fact remains that representations of war can also be enjoyed by the pacifist. In this sense, Khaled Ramadan’s work may be the peak achievement in this experimental field. The most shocking evidence of the allure of violence and destruction is to be found in the schizophrenic reaction to the real time horrors of the terrorist attacks on Manhattan.

There is an aesthetic of ugliness too, but in this case the ugliness seems to reside in the morality of the attack. I would like to make a point which may sound unpleasant to most of us, partly because of our distant and mediated relation to the WTC attacks and global reality in general. I have not actually heard anyone describe the attacks in terms of ugliness. Some commentators, however, have described the events as beautiful and visually enjoyable, albeit in a problematic sense.

But what kind of an aesthetic experience are we talking about? It’s worth noting that it is an aesthetic experience that has been forced upon us. No one in their right mind would view the events in Manhattan as desirable. Even if we don’t always like what we see in galleries or nature, and we don’t always enjoy everyday life, we still take it for granted that we have the potential to enjoy these aspects of our lives. In the same way that we could feel justified in picking up the sonnets of Petrarch, after a hard day at the factory.

The issue seems to be easier to grasp in terms of experiencing beauty. People often react in a confused manner to beauty contests such as the Miss Universe pageant. Comments concerning beauty contests seem to indicate that the form vs. content distinction is still useful, at lease when applied to everyday life. People seem to appreciate the form of the contestants, but are still sceptical (or perhaps prejudiced) about the content or motives of the contestants. Our responses to Nazi culture are a similar case. We fear that loss of aesthetic resistance could be politically damaging. This is probably the reason why most of us do not even try to enjoy documentaries and propaganda films about the Berlin Olympics or the lavish party meetings in Nuremberg.

Suffice to say that these questions are far from easy to define, since we always run the risk of oversimplification.

Still, they form a plausible context for Ramadan’s work, though never explicitly so. His creations are not a glorification of war and terrorism. Ramadan doesn’t advocate the aggressive masculinist agenda which is typical of Marinetti, and even complex thinkers such as Mishima or Pasolini.

Many of Ramadan’s works hint at the dark banality of terrorism when it becomes an everyday occurrence in people’s lives. They also reflect the often overlooked and sleepy banality of the art world itself. Most of his works are ugly. Their ugliness, however, reinforces their meaning. Similarly to the events of September 11, this gentle Copenhagen based artist’s work explores the logic of mass media. The artist who has roots in Beirut also conveys a pacifism which is both sweet and charming.

What else could be said about From Left Bank to West Bank? It grabs the viewer like a good advertisement and could probably quite easily be placed in that context. Neither the basic idea nor the form demands contemplation in the Kantian (modernist) sense. If the work alludes to anything in contemporary art, it is probably comic book art rather than the silent and economically subsidised realm of high art. Imagery such as brushing your teeth with bullets is clearly meant to be taken in the spirit of Tex Avery. The work leaves a bad taste in the mouth which is far removed from the decadent and often pathetically adventure seeking futurism of Marinetti.

From Left Bank to West Bank is typical of Ramadan’s work, since it consists of documentary material rather than fictional material. This accentuates the everyday ugliness of the pieces. Humour, horror and the dead end of art all portrayed in an empty laugh.


“Have a Cigar, Buddy”

KABOOM!


Max Ryynänen