The Second CommandmentWritten on the occassion of Just in Time! - group show at Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam as a re-contextualization of two older works, Untitled (Staphorst) and Re-Magazine #23.
Arab audio version on headphones (voice: Abdel Rahmen El Shershaby).
Published in English and Dutch as a free leaflet / insert in the catalogue. 2006.



[Nederlandse versie]
Full text:
The Second Commandment.
In the controversy surrounding the cartoons depicting the prophet Mohammed earlier this year, the Western world became familiar with the Islamic version of a religious prohibition against images. The Western art world took an unequivocal stand for the cartoonist’s freedom of expression, for the freedom of art was at stake. This categorical response is remarkable, since from time immemorial the awareness of such a prohibition against images has played a vital role in Western art as well. It is a Judeo-Christian tradition of well over two thousand years that stems from the second commandment in the biblical Book of Exodus and continues until well into the development of abstract modern art.
What does it say about the art world that this tradition now seems to have been breached if not altogether forgotten? What will become of art if it no longer feels the restraint of the second commandment? What might still be the value of such a commandment? These questions play a role in my choice for a dual contribution to “Just In Time!”: an issue of Re-Magazine from February 2002 and the film Untitled (Staphorst) from January 2003. While these works were never intended to be shown together or discussed in the same context, both acknowledge the problematic character of images and both allude to the second commandment.
Untitled (Staphorst) makes use of footage from 1958, in which ultra orthodox Reformed inhabitants of the Dutch village of Staphorst, who honour the second commandment, are filmed by a camera crew who disregard the commandment and continue to film while the faithful hide their faces in an attempt to remain out of the picture. In contrast with those images from the past, the issue of Re-Magazine was meant to provide an image of the future. The issue appeared in the spring of 2002, but was presented as a product of the near future: the spring of 2007. As that point in time is almost upon us, that former fantasy of the future can now be compared with the way things really turned out.
The main text from Re-Magazine introduces an unspecified group of people from 2007 who recall recent historic events in the ‘we’ form. This means that actual events from before 2002 are mixed with yet-to-happen, fictional events from the years between 2002 and 2007. Browsing through the issue now, you’ll find no mention of events that actually took place after the magazine appeared: no Guantanamo Bay, no murder of Pim Fortuyn or Theo van Gogh, and no bankruptcy of our former publisher. But we weren’t out to make predictions. Our aim was to create a window on the world through which we could give order to the most recent world event11 September 2001in a different way than the chaotic heat of that moment allowed. And that frame ultimately became an internalised form of the second commandment. The ‘we’ in Re-Magazine are actively striving for an absence of images in 2007not out of any religious conviction, but as an alternative for the maelstrom of the visual culture. They are not for any prohibition against images, but nevertheless see the importance of imageless environments as a fertile contrast.
This ambivalent attitude with regard to images can also be seen in the montage of Untitled (Staphorst). The inhabitants of Staphorst from 1958 loom up from relatively long stretches of imageless white and disappear back into that again. The white space is empty, but also serves as a projection screen for the afterimage on the retina of the viewer. The alternation between image and empty space shows what you don’t see but still perceive: the camera as aggressor.
The film and the magazine both show images that cast doubt on themselves. That doubt stems from the second commandment. Whereas the remaining nine commandments are straightforward precepts for basic human and humane behaviour, the second chases its own tail. It turns against images, but is itself, in language, an image. It is thus part of the issue it broaches, for what is then the status of the commandment itself?
For those who believe in God as the Creator of the world, it is easy: they see the commandment as coming directly from God Himself, so they will also obey it. Those who do not believe in God can brush aside the commandment as a primitive remnant from a far and unenlightened past. But those who do not see humans as a creation of God, but rather God as a human creationand thus as an imagecannot avoid relating the second commandment to themselves and acknowledging that image and reality are interwoven in a double bind.
People are constantly creating images in their minds and then believing in them. And what is wrong with that? Draw two dots and a line beneath them and even the smallest child will recognise a face in them. And that is precisely how it gets to know the world, step by step and image by image. The second commandment merely advocates distinguishing the appearance from the reality in that continuous process. For whether the images are materialised or mental, they are equivocal by nature. They give the viewer the possibility of believing in them, with the qualification that they never match the complexity of the world they represent. But they also offer the possibility of losing oneself in them at the expense of a true sense of realitywhich is a common definition of madness. Every image asks the viewer whether it is fallacy or interpretation. The answer is always in the eye of the beholder.
Back in the eighties, Dutch writer Frans Kellendonk saw the second commandment as a question: How should we deal with the unknown? He wrote about the commandment as ‘a mentality that realises the difference between image and reality, between myth and mystery’ and called that sincere pretending. ‘We sincerely pretend depicting reality to know what we are talking about, but we never forget for a moment that we don’t.’ In Kellendonk’s view, every window on the world needs to get steamed up every now and then so that we can see the window itself. Those who make images must also show the limitations of their representation, to prevent idolatry.
Kellendonk’s struggle with the second commandment was a reaction to the zeitgeist that dictated that everything in the world of art had already been done, history had reached its end, symbols had become disengaged from their meaning, and one could no longer generate content but merely form. Irony became identical with cynicism and was the instrument par excellence with which postmodernism levelled the boundary between the visual arts and visual culture. Reality was deconstructed, and due to the resulting lack of mystery, the myth of art remained like a left shoe without the right one. Kellendonk’s sincere pretending was an attempt to restore the connection between myth and mystery via a personal redefinition of irony.
Since then, both postmodernism and the end of history have found their place in the history books, and comments can also be made on how Kellendonk’s sincere pretending should be put into practice. To borrow his imagery: the windows in the visual arts are more or less permanently steamed up. We could certainly do with a bit less meta-consciousness. But his call for an equivocal interpretation of the second commandment has only gained in relevance, for on 11 September 2001, the question of how to deal with the unknown flew into the World Trade Center.
All of a sudden there was an aggressor, and images appeared that indicated that the reality they referred to was different from what we had assumed up to that point. They were even capable of changing the way we perceive the world. They replaced Western, capitalistic symbols with symbols for its destruction. The attacks were both image and iconoclasm at the same time. It is up to us to test our sense of reality and to make any necessary adjustments.
In terms of the second commandment, politics won’t be of much help, since politicians advocate a simplification that leads to radicalisation. Any sense of equivocality in connection with the attack was banned. In the days following the attacks, Susan Sontag was deluged with criticism after her appeal for self-reflection, and Karl Heinz Stockhausen was forced to retract his remark that the attack was Lucifer's greatest work of art. ‘You’re either for us or against us.’ And those who are against us will be vanquished by the enemy’s own means, for the term ‘Axis of Evil’ is just as much an image, the antithesis of the burning Twin Towers. In its rhetoric, it denies being an image, but it is forced upon us as if it were reality itselfwith all its consequences: estimations of 600,000 dead in Iraq, more than 200 times as many as in the attacks of September 11. And Bin Laden is apparently still alive.
That is a fine task for artists, one could say: make images that know their place in the world. Make clear and tangible once again the double bind between image and reality from the second commandment. But how do you do that? And is it actually happening? As far as I know, the art world either kept quiet in the discussion about the cartoons of the Prophet in Denmark’s Jyllands-Posten or showed the reaction with which the Bush doctrine has tried to impose its will on the world since 9/11. The opposition of the freedom of expression versus the ‘backwards religion’ that forbids images is a simplification of the same kind. We prefer to forget that Jyllands-Posten had actually refused cartoons about Jesus two years earlier, just as we prefer to forget that we are not only out to spread democracy but also to bring home oil.
The ‘we’ from Re-Magazine would certainly have reacted differently to the cartoon controversy. They would have found the desire to refrain from making images just as understandable and worth pursuing as the freedom of speech. Such an understanding is lacking in the visual arts these days. The second commandment is hardly part of the conceptual framework of art. That this is distressing is evident in the maelstrom of the visual culture that has only become wider since 9/11. And the visual arts are fully part of this. Many artists, myself included, take pride in the thought that their work is critical and reflexive and wants to distinguish itself from the daily portion of image-pulp. But at the same time, the call for production is stronger than ever, making quality harder and harder to find in the profusion. Reflection and criticism have become a more or less obligatory exercise that blends into an ever-growing layeredness. Artists, curators, designers, critics and writers place layer over layer and like to see that as quality. But in that expanding movement, the art business is looking suspiciously like a bureaucratic apparatus of government that has to satisfy the demands of market operations. In the quest for optimalisation and vigour, the result is the opposite.
So how can we make images that know their place? Is it even still possible? It seems to me that striving for the absence of images might be an option as a place to start. That means you will need to have empty places. The museum as a temple of tranquillity, reflection and contemplation is not necessarily the most ideal place for that, however. The ‘we’ from Re-Magazine flip over the cardboard coasters in a cafe, blank-side up. They carry around an empty box of matches in their pocket, and every room in their house has an empty chest or cabinet, except for one room that is completely empty. That is the start of a fantasy about an empty house in the street and an empty street in the city and an empty city in the country they live in. The increase in scale ends in the world with one empty continent. That it all remains a fantasy is not a problem: for them, the empty matchbox is an image of a teeming world between empty planets.
It might also be important to look for alternative forms of contextualisation, not by striving out of habit for more layers but by actually trimming away layers of context. In the ever-expanding universe of the free market, that’s going to be a tough battle, but it is not impossible. One of the ways this can be done is ensuring that the context in which you show your images is crystal clear. It is only in this clarity that the image’s ambiguity, which the second commandment exhorts us to recognise, can be experienced as a quality. You can only make the difference between meaning and madness by saying what you have to say as precisely as possible, with every means available to you. In that respect, the recontextualisation of older work is one of the strategies that could be investigated in more depth. Sometimes it makes more sense to ‘re-present’ old work than to simply produce for production’s sake and prematurely declare the old as passé.
Amsterdam, November 2006
Arnoud Holleman
UNDER CONSTRUCTION
Een voorspoedig 2133!Wie zich verdiept in de geschiedenis van tijdcapsules vindt genoeg redenen om er geen te maken. De meesten verdwijnen, omdat ze vergaan of omdat ze worden vergeten. Toch zijn we bezig om er een in Rotterdam samen te stellen. Want ook al zijn we tegenwoordig geneigd om alleen met ironische distantie naar tijdcapsules te kijken, ze bieden nog steeds mogelijkheden. Niet zozeer voor onze nazaten, maar voor onszelf.
Rejected ConceptualismInventarisnummer BK53086 - BK53115. Serie van 30 potloodtekeningen. Begin 1 juni 1976, einde 30 juni 1976. Kunstenaar: Jan Hoving. Titel: Zonder titel. Beschrijving: Vierkant met potloodarcering, met begin- en eindtijdnotering. Materiaal: potlood, papier. Hoogte: 54,8. Breedte: 54,8. Staat: redelijk. Organisatie: Instituut Collectie Nederland. Rubriek: Beeldende kunst. Dit werk wordt afgestoten door Instituut Collectie Nederland.
Recto / VersoInterview covergirl Lauren Hutton was photographed by Francesco Scavullo in 1973. She's wearing Galanos - from his exciting fall 1973 collection. Accessorized by Galanos, makeup by Way Bandy, hair by Rick Gilette. The photo was re-photographed by Anuschka Blommers and Niels Schumm in 2003, with model Uta Eichhorn posing as Re-Magazine covergirl Claudia. She's wearing a black dress by Hermès. Styling by Katja Rahlwes, makeup by Renata Mandic.
Media SuicideDe 38-jarige Karst T. uit Huissen reed even voor het middaguur in op toeschouwers in een bewuste actie de koninklijke familie te raken. De man raakte zelf ernstig gewond en verkeerde gisteravond in levensgevaar. De man ontweek op de Jachtlaan in Apeldoorn twee afzettingen en reed met zijn zwarte Suzuki Swift in op de menigte. De koninklijke familie zag vanaf een paar meter afstand hoe de man tegen monument De Naald botste.
Destroyed ThinkerIn january 2007 two thieves stole a small cast of the Thinker from the Singer Museum in Laren, Holland. Not knowing the value of the sculpture, the thieves started taking the sculpture apart to be melted down. Alarmed by the press attention for their theft, and learning about its estimated value, they burried the sculpture in their garden. A few days later it was found, heavily damaged.
Rodin researchFrom 2005 onwards, I have been focusing on Rodin as a research topic. The main question that I ask myself is in what way Rodin consciously helped shaping the mythical proportions of his own artistic persona. By studying his life and works and by studying the timeframe of the second half of the nineteenth century – in which his work came to existence – I seek to create a context of paralel references as a source of inspiration for nowadays artistic practice.
MiscellaneousThis is a selection of older works, dating roughly from 1990 until now. It's a reservoir of lose ends. Part of my practice is to go back in time, and re-evaluate previous motives and actions. Therefore, a lot of my works have an unfinished, ambiguous nature. Either they have lost their momentum after they were exhibited, or were never shown outside of my studio, or are just waiting for completion in another context.
Co*starDus toen kreeg ik heel erg de wens, als mens maar ook als kunstenaar, om me te bevrijden van al die dingen... om werkelijk iets nieuws in te slaan. Maar dat gaat niet, want je kan het nieuwe niet bedenken op basis van al die ouwe zooi. Dus ik dacht, ik wil daar van af... en toen bleek dat soap ... bleek een deur te zijn naar... zeg maar dat je die ruimte in je hoofd weer werkelijk leeg zou kunnen maken en als een soort potentie zou kunnen gaan vullen... zelf.
RetitledFor the last couple of years in a row, artists had been invited who felt at home in a big show environment. This had thrown up a number of lively and playful installations, but this year the budding tradition was in jeopardy: for a variety of reasons there was next to no money for art projects. The only kitty in the budget that might be called upon had been set aside for the printing of the half a million paper napkins that were to be used during the festival.
I shot MadonnaWhen she comes past I click away hysterically. Not even with the intention of getting her picture but more because I’m in the press enclosure and have to prove that I’m a photographer or so. I’m so busy with the camera and she goes by so fast that I hardly catch a glimpse of her. The print I have made is blurred. Also that night was the first time she showed up with a black hairdo instead of her usual blonde, so nobody recognized her on the photo.