Plans to erect a statue of George Harrison in Henley-on-Thames have been dropped following opposition from The Beatles’ widow, Olivia Harrison. Instead she is reported to favour “a community project in his name.”(1)

This incident reflects longstanding reservations about devoting so much time and money in producing yet another mute monument. Wouldn’t it be better to celebrate a life in ways that benefit the present? And is this not all the more necessary in our increasingly digital age?

With this in mind, it is salutary to see the emergence of a collective commemoration of Aaron Swartz (1986-2013).

During his short life this freedom of speech advocate urged people to sign up to his “Guerrilla Open Access Manifesto”.

His tragic suicide has given rise to the Twitter trend, #pdftribute whereby academics are encouraged to upload their scholarly papers that are withheld from public circulation due to what Swartz condemned as “the privatization of knowledge”.

The result is a collaborative, politically motivated memorial act that is the antithesis of an effigy on a stone pedestal. It is instead a living, livid legacy that is entirely in keeping with the circumstances that led to the death of Aaron Swartz..

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Note

(1) “George Harrison Henley-on-Thames statue campaign halted”, BBC News, 12/01/2013, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-oxfordshire-20997626.

Aaron Swartz (1986-2013)
Full text of “Guerrilla Open Access Manifesto”

“Swedish weapons with Burma’s army”. So reads a two-page article in today’s issue of the newspaper, Svenska Dagbladet.(1)

Alongside the text are photographs indicating that the Kachin Independence Army (KIA) has come under attack from Burmese soldiers armed with Saab AB’s Carl Gustav 84mm Recoilless Rifle (“The best multi-purpose weapon there is”). We know this because at least one such armament plus ammunition were left behind when the state’s forces were driven into a retreat by their KIA opponents.

A serial number – 17248 – is clearly visible on the weapon pictured in Svenska Dagbladet. This should make it simple for Saab AB to confirm whether it was exported directly to Burma (in contravention of the 1996 EU export embargo) or, as is far more likely, that the arms found their way to Myanmar via one of Saab AB’s official customers (probably India or Thailand).

This mishap should come as no surprise given the sheer quantity of Swedish-made arms that are being exported all over the world. However, what makes this particular incident noteworthy is the manner in which Svenska Dagbladet reported the news. At the very same time that it broke the story, the newspaper’s editors allowed a 32-page advertising feature to be inserted into that day’s paper. Entitled, Rikets säkerhet (The Nation’s Security), it is produced by MDG Magazines and edited by Christer Fälldin. In his introductory message Fälldin informs Svenska Dagbladet’s readers that this addition to their daily paper tackles what he considers to be one of the most significant political challenges facing Sweden, namely defence. Fälldin has therefore sought to use the inaugural issue of Rikets säkerhet to address “many of the security and defence issues” that are current today. Alas, one such issue that is missing from this “newspaper” (sic) is any discussion of the legal or moral dimensions of the arms industry and the responsibilities that Sweden has as a world-leading exporter of military equipment.

The fact that the first issue of Rikets säkerhet was allowed to subsume Svenska Dagbladet’s report into the inherent risks involved in exporting arms is highly revealing. It exposes the extensive lobbying campaigns undertaken by powerful groups and individuals with vested interests in normalising and enhancing Sweden’s weapons industry. Rikets säkerhet represents a sophisticated attempt to scare the Swedish people by confronting them with amorphous threats and worries about the future. These dire warnings appear alongside advertisements from all manner of military-related organisations. They are in turn interspersed with associated “news” stories. This pseudo journalism is a thinly veiled attempt to convince Sweden’s political elite to continue to invest ever increasing sums in defence procurement and development.

All this is a far cry from the Nobel-prize and IKEA-meatball image of Sweden so adored by the international media. Beneath an oh-so-sweet Nordic façade there festers a far from savoury side to Sweden. Just ask the people of northern Burma.

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Note

(1) Bertil Lintner, “Svenska vapen hos Burmas armé”, Svenska Dagbladet, 11 December 2012, pp. 20-21.

“Why wasn’t a poet sent to the moon? What if Starwars’ Robot R2-D2 were able to scan the world’s arts for their strengths and weaknesses, making available its output after scanning to aid artists in their search for new aesthetic solutions. What if Starwars translator C-3PO could make translations for audiences in their bewilderment with new forms, translation from one kind of artist to another, or become go-between for scientists, technologists and artists? Would it help? Would it be of redeeming social value?

“The side effects of technology, such as the pollution of our planet and the danger of ultimate destruction, are not solved. Technology breeds the need for more technology which breeds more side effects in a self-perpetuating binge.

“The foresight required for the solutions needed must come not only from the deepest of scientific thought, but also from the deepest of artistic thought. The artistic side of the scientist as well as the scientific side of the artist must continually be cultivated. The artistic scientist and the scientific artist have suffered subjugation by those who have sought power and control at the expense of human and aesthetic values.”

Pauline Oliveros, Software for People: Collected Writings 1963-80, Baltimore: Smith Publications, 1984, p. 176

On Sunday 11 November a fascinating debate took place at Arkitekturmuseet (Sweden’s national museum of architecture). It marked the culmination of a weekend of activities to celebrate the institution’s fiftieth anniversary. Events included  guided tours of the Rafael Moneo-designed building which Arkitekturmuseet shares with another of Sweden’s state museums, namely Moderna Museet.

The highlight of the festivities focused on the commemorative publication, The Swedish Museum of Architecture: A Fifty Year Perspective. This was launched following a series of reflections by two contributors to the book, Thordis Arrhenius and Bengt O.H. Johansson (the latter was director of the museum from 1966-77).

This was followed by a panel debate entitled “Midlife crisis or stroppy teenager? A discussion about Arkitekturmuseet yesterday, today, tomorrow”.(1) It was at this point that matters started to get interesting. It quickly became apparent that the past, present and future of Arkitekturmuseet are far from settled. Much attention was given to the recently expanded role of the museum. This is summed up in an introductory section of the anniversary book. Under the rubric, “More than a museum”, Monica Fundin Pourshahidi cites a press release by the Swedish minister of culture, Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth in which it is stated that, from 2009 onwards, Arkitekturmuseet is vested with being a “power centre” not only for architecture but also for design: “The Museum of Architecture can and must be a display window and a distinct voice in the debate on social planning, architecture, design and sustainable development”.(2)

This point was taken up by Arkitekturmuseet’s present director, Lena Rahoult. But her positive spin was immediately problematised by a fellow panel member, the architectural historian Martin Rörby. The focus of his criticisms was a recent governmental memorandum which instructed the institution to engage in “promotion and communication” (främjande och kommunikation) rather than “traditional museum activities” (traditionell museiverksamhet). This would be best signalled by a change in title, with the word “museum” being replaced by “centre” or “arena”.(3)

Rörby expressed reservations about such a shift in focus, fearing that an increase in breadth would come at the expense of depth and critical engagement. He was also troubled by the vague, empty rhetoric of the memorandum. On the other hand, the notion of going beyond what was expected of a “traditional” museum was nothing new. Rörby illustrated this point by citing Arkitekturmuseet’s past involvement in the often heated debate regarding Sergels torg in central Stockholm. He stressed the rapidity of the museum’s response which enabled it to react to a pressing, contemporary issue. This active engagement, however, was only possible because of the museum’s unrivalled collections of artefacts, architectural models and other archival documents. Rörby was of the opinion that the museum would find it far harder – if not impossible – to arrange such an exhibition in the additional field of design. This is because the museum responsible for the national design collection is another entirely separate institution, namely Nationalmuseum. The design holdings will remain there, despite Arkitekturmuseet’s increased mandate.

In the light of this one can be forgiven for questioning the basis for adding design to the museum of architecture. The oddness of this situation was beautifully demonstrated by the fact that, at the very same time that this debate was unfolding at Arkitekturmuseet, Nationalmuseum just down the road was holding a “theme day” on “handicraft, time and creativity” in association with its craft and design exhibition, Slow Art.(4)

Way back in the late 1980s and early 1990s the museum fraternity in Sweden dreamed of a museum of industrial design (Konstindustrimuseet) being housed in Tullhuset adjacent to the main Nationalmuseum building in the Blasieholmen area of Stockholm. This nineteenth century toll house was to have been expanded to allow for 5000 square metres of exhibition space. Alas, this imaginative idea proved abortive, as did a plan to deploy the spectacular Amiralitetshuset on the island of Skeppsholmen.(5)

In the wake of these failed initiatives comes the current half-baked decision to place the design burden on the ill-equipped museum of architecture. Meanwhile, in February 2013, Nationalmuseum will close for a period of four years during which time a multi-million kronor refurbishment will take place. This, one would have thought, would be the ideal opportunity to resolve the status of design in Sweden. The risk is that the investment in Nationalmuseum is being made against a contested, confused and contradictory context.

Exacerbating this frankly farcical state of affairs is the added complication of Arkitekturmuseet’s relationship with Moderna Museet. These two museums, as has been noted, share a building. One might therefore have thought that it would sensible for the pair to unite, especially given the enlarged remit of Arkitekturmuseet. Indeed, in 1998 it was proposed that modern design dating from 1900 onwards should be moved to Moderna Museet.(6)

On being asked about the relationship with her neighbour, Arkitekturmuseet’s director Lena Rahoult made a few platitudinous comments and paid compliments to Daniel Birnbaum, her counterpart at Moderna Museet. However, when it comes to Moderna Museet’s upcoming exhibition on Le Corbusier, it emerged that the museum of architecture will not be involved.(7) This, it strikes me, represents a potentially serious threat to the autonomy of Arkitekturmuseet. If the Le Corbusier exhibition is a success despite (or perhaps because of) the exclusion of Arkitekturmuseet, then the argument is being made that Moderna Museet is more than capable of taking over this field.

Daniel Birnbaum would no doubt be delighted. He is a very shrewd operator. Upon taking over the running of Moderna Museet he erased all trace of its former director in the most charming manner: by turning the whole museum over to photography. This had a number of consequences. It facilitated a tabula rasa whilst showing Birnbaum to be both innovative and in step with the history of the museum. This in turn stifled any potential suggestion that photography was not being accorded sufficient attention. This was a smart move given that the formerly separate museum of photography had been subsumed into the collections of Moderna Museet on the completion of Rafael Moneo’s building in 1998. With this potential criticism snuffed out, Birnbaum then set about curtailing the independence of the museum’s satellite institution, Moderna Museet Malmö. This was led by Magnus Jensner until a “restructuring” made his position untenable and prompted his resignation.(8) In March of this year Jensner was succeeded by Birnbaum’s man in Stockholm, John Peter Nilsson.

Against the background of these strategic manoeuvres the decision to mount an exhibition on Le Corbusier at Moderna Museet is no mere innocent happenstance. It can be interpreted as part of a calculated empire building process. And, if the recent debate at Arkitekturmuseet is anything to go by, Birnbaum is a giant among pygmies on the Swedish cultural scene.

Perhaps mindful of this, at the same time as spouting her platitudes, Lena Rahoult has been busy mounting the barricades. She has taken the decision to withdraw Arkitekturmuseet from the bookstore that it has shared with Moderna Museet since the inception of Moneo’s building. All the books are being sold at a reduction of 60% whilst magazines and postcards are being flogged off for a few kronor. Once this stock has been disposed, Arkitekturmuseet will open a separate retail establishment in its own part of the locale. This development is notable given that the bookstore was one of the very few aspects of the building where the two institutions merged. Another is the shared ticket desk. Moneo designed the building to incorporate the old drill-hall where Moderna Museet began life and which is now occupied by Arkitekturmuseet. In so doing he provided a new entrance and closed the original doorway. Rahoult plans to reopen this entrance whilst keeping the other in use. Birnbaum is on record as describing this proposal as “ludicrous” (befängd).(9) Well he might, because one of the main criticisms of Moneo’s building is its very modest and hard-to-find entrance. Should Arkitekturmuseet prove to be the main gateway into the combined museum it may well increase the number of visitors to the architecture collection, but it will draw attention from what is currently the dominant partner, Moderna Museet.

The proposed changes to the shop and entrance have led to claims that Arkitekturmuseet wishes to “break free from Moderna Museet”.(10) The paradoxical situation has therefore arisen whereby, at the same time that Arkitekturmuseet struggles to work across disciplines in one direction, it is placing barriers to the museum next door.

There is, of course, no reason why different disciplines should not be brought together in a single museum. A case in point is the Museum of Modern Art, MOMA. Its mission statement is grounded in the belief

    [t]hat modern and contemporary art transcend national boundaries and involve all forms of visual
    expression, including painting and sculpture, drawings, prints and illustrated books, photography,
    architecture and design, and film and video, as well as new forms yet to be developed or understood,
    that reflect and explore the artistic issues of the era.(11)

Another example closer to home is Norway. However, in this case the forced union of art, architecture and design has been far from amicable or straightforward. But at least Norway’s National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design is being given a grand new building in which to unite. This is not the case in Sweden. No one should be surprised about this given the paltry cultural policies of the present alliance government under the stewardship of its mediocre minister of culture, Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth.

When it came to the festivities to mark Arkitekturmuseet’s jubilee debate, the icing on the birthday cake occurred when the panel turned to the audience for questions and response. Up stepped Jöran Lindvall. He remains – as he was at pains to make clear – the longest serving director of Arkitekturmuseet (during the years 1985-1999). Nevertheless, he added pointedly, no one had thought to ask him to contribute to the fiftieth anniversary publication. His absence from its pages was a timely reminder that such official records are as partial as they are political. That much is shown by a similar publication released to mark Moderna Museet’s own fiftieth anniversary in 2008.

Such historical tomes might seem to be rooted in the past, but their main aim is to seek to placate the politicised present whilst simultaneously shaping the uncertain future. As if to underline this, Jöran Lindvall presented the current holder of the post he once occupied with a bag stuffed full of newspaper cuttings and other documents from his private collection relating to exhibitions that took place during his time at the museum. He declared his willingness to donate these to Arkitekturmuseet, but on one condition: that it remain a museum devoted to architecture. Lena Rahoult accepted this generous offer. She could hardly do otherwise.

It will be interesting to follow the fate of Lindvall’s loaded gift. Indeed, all those involved in museums would do well to keep track of events in Sweden and watch with interest as commentators, practitioners, museum professionals and politicians plot their next moves in a battle that is more comedy than tragedy.

But that is not to say that the outcome is likely to leave very many people laughing.

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Notes

(1) The panel participants were the director of Arkitekturmuseet, Lena Rahoult together with Fredrik Kjellgren (architect), Petrus Palmér (designer), Birgitta Ramdell (director of Form/Design centre, Malmö) and the architectural historian Martin Rörby (Skönhetsrådet). The chair was Kristina Hultman.
(2) Press release dated 19 December 2008, cited in Main Zimm (ed.) The Swedish Museum of Architecture: A Fifty Year Perspective, Stockholm: Arkitekturmuseet, p. 4.
(3) Cited in “Stora förändringar föreslås på Arkitekturmuseet”, Arkitektur, undated, http://www.arkitektur.se/stora-forandringar-foreslas-pa-arkitekturmuseet (accessed 12/11/2012).
(4) Slow Art, Nationalmuseum, 10 May 2012 – 3 February 2013. The special event that took place on Sunday 11 November included a talk by Cilla Robach (“Slow Art – om hantverk, tid och kreativitet”) followed by a craft activity for children (see the advertisement on p. 7 of the Kultur section of that day’s issue of the newspaper, Dagens Nyheter).
(5) Mikael Ahlund (ed.) Konst kräver rum. Nationalmuseums historia och framtid, Nationalmusei skriftserie 17, 2002, pp. 76-77.
(6) Ahlund, 2002, p. 77.
(7) Moderna Museet’s exhibition has been given the name “Moment – Le Corbusier’s Secret Laboratory” and will run from 19 January – 28 April 2013. The decision not to collaborate with Arkitekturmuseet is ironic given that the latter put together the exhibition “Le Corbusier and Stockholm” in 1987.
(8) “Magnus Jensner slutar i Malmö”, Expressen, 20/10/2012, http://www.expressen.se/kvp/magnus-jensner-slutar-i-malmo.
(9) “Arkitekturmuseets femtioårskris – en intervju”, Arkitektur, undated, http://www.arkitektur.se/arkitekturmuseets-femtioarskris-en-intervju (accessed 12/11/2012).
(10) Hanna Weiderud, “Arkitekturmuseet bryter sig loss från Moderna”, SVT, 01/11/2012, http://www.svt.se/nyheter/regionalt/abc/arkitekturmuseet-bryter-sig-loss-fran-moderna.
(11) Collections Management Policy, The Museum of Modern Art, available at, http://www.moma.org/docs/explore/CollectionsMgmtPolicyMoMA_Oct10.pdf.

In 1927 the New York Herald Tribune published an article entitled “The New Biography”.(1) Its author was the novelist and essayist, Virginia Woolf. At the outset she makes the following observation:

    the truth which biography demands is truth in its hardest,
    most obdurate form; it is truth as truth is to be found in
    the British Museum; it is truth out of which all vapour of
    falsehood has been pressed by the weight of research.

This statement highlights the longstanding trust that societies place in museums and their tangible collections. Even today these institutions retain their reputation for “hard facts”. And, like a well researched, scholarly biography, it is from this “virtue in truth” that museums derive their “almost mystic power”.

But “truth” alone is not enough: the book-on-a-wall approach to museum display is undoubtedly full of facts, but that doesn’t prevent it from leading to exhibitions that are “dull” or “unreadable”. Woolf realised that, in order to make something interesting and dramatic, “facts must be manipulated”.

The question is, therefore, how far to carry the fiction or toy with the truth?

It strikes me that this is particularly pertinent today as our museums seek to divest themselves of their reputation for being stuffy and scholarly in favour of “dramatic effect”. Yet museum professionals would be wise to heed Woolf’s advice. She realised that sanctioning fewer facts in exchange for the foregrounding of more palatable fictions runs the risk of “losing both worlds”. Because, if visitors begin to lose faith in museums, their “almost mystic power” will slowly ebb away. In its place we might well be left with apparently more accessible and dramatic exhibitions – but even the most fashionable of museums quickly seems “dull” and out-moded in comparison with other forms of popular entertainment.

And a museum without truths and “hard facts” is nothing more than a second rate visitor attraction.

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Note

(1) All direct quotations in this post are derived from Woolf’s article, which is reproduced as the final chapter in the fourth volume of her Collected Essays, London, The Hogarth Press, 1967, pp. 229-235.

Hillsborough: The Report of the Hillsborough Independent Panel has just been published. This 400-page document investigates an incident which occurred on 15th April 1989 at the Hillsborough Stadium in Sheffield. On that awful day a soccer match between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest had to be abandoned when the Leppings Lane stand became overcrowded. The ensuing crush led to the death of 96 Liverpool football fans.

This terrible loss of life and the unbearable grief of their loved ones have been compounded over the past 23 years by a deliberate and systematic attempt to cover up what happened. That much is clear from the report released today.

One of its most startling findings relates to the fact that written statements made at the time by police officers and members of the South Yorkshire Metropolitan Ambulance Service were altered. Why? The answer is emphatic:

“Some 116 of the 164 [police] statements identified for substantive amendment were amended to remove or alter comments unfavourable to SYP [South Yorkshire Police].”(1)

In other words, our supposed custodians of law and order – both then and since – have been more interested in their own image and reputation than in finding out what went so catastrophically wrong.

And this, I argue, is why a so-called “academic” subject such as History is so vital to a democratic and viable society. Compare the contemporary example set out above with this quotation from The Historian’s Craft by Marc Bloch:

    One of the most difficult tasks of the historian is that of assembling those documents which
    he [or she] considers necessary... Despite what the beginners sometimes seem to imagine,
    documents do not suddenly materialize, in one place or another, as if by some mysterious
    decree of the gods. Their presence or absence in the depths of this archive or that library
    are due to human causes which by no means elude analysis. The problems posed by
    their transmission, far from having importance only for the technical experts, are
    most intimately connected with the life of the past, for what is at stake is nothing less
    than the passing down of memory from one generation to another.

Bloch had no need to restrict his attention to “the life of the past”. Because “the passing down of memory from one generation to another” occurs in the here and now. The Hillsborough disaster is history. But its living legacies are life, truth and justice in the present. These qualities should be our memorial to ten-year-old Jon-Paul Gilhooley who, together with 95 fellow supporters, became the innocent victim of official incompetence, misconduct and suppression on that fateful day in April 1989.

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Notes

(1) Hillsborough: The Report of the Hillsborough Independent Panel, September 2012, HC 581, London: The Stationery Office, p. 339.
(2) Marc Bloch, The Historian’s Craft, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2004, pp. 57-59.

Jamtli is a regional museum in the city of Östersund in central Sweden. In recent days it has been blessed with a great deal of attention. At first this delighted its director, Henrik Zipsane. “All publicity is good publicity” he declared in a newspaper interview last week.(1)

Zipsane must have been cursing those words as he announced the cancellation of Jamtli’s exhibition “Udda och jämt” (Odd and even). This was to have been a group show of contemporary Swedish art. Included in the line-up was Lars Vilks. He made a name for himself in 2007 with the publication of his drawings of the prophet Muhammad as a dog-shaped piece of street furniture.

This triggered a furious and at times very violent reaction in both Sweden and abroad. Vilks is now obliged to live under police protection and has become synonymous with the polarised views pertaining to religion and freedom of expression.

Whatever one’s opinion of Vilks, it is impossible to accuse him of hiding his views on such matters. This is confirmed by his much-publicised decision to travel to New York this month in order to take part in a conference entitled SION (Stop Islamization of Nations).

Nevertheless, it seems to have been this specific action that led Jamtli’s leadership to change their mind about including Vilks in “Udda och jämt”. Yet they clearly failed to think through the potential consequences of this move. One by one the other artists in the show announced their decision to withdraw. Eventually it became clear that not enough participants remained and so the exhibition, which was due to open on 30th September, has now been cancelled.

This incident touches on lots of highly sensitive issues and gives rise to a host of often strongly held opinions. Oddly enough it is this that appears to be the greatest problem. Earlier this morning a spokesperson for Jamtli appeared on Sweden’s national radio. She lamented that the debate that had arisen threatened to overshadow the art. If this is such a bad thing, why extend an initiation to a so-called conceptual artist like Lars Vilks in the first place?

Could it be that Jamtli hoped that Vilks’ presence might have added a touch of spice to the mix – a little of that “good publicity” so craved by Zipsane? If so, this has all gone horribly wrong.

Or has it?

“Udda och jämt” promises to be one of the most talked about shows in Jamtli’s history – whether it takes place or not. So why don’t its asinine leaders go ahead with the exhibition as arranged? The plans are no doubt well advanced; the text panels and labels for each artwork must be ready to be go. These could be mounted on the wall alongside works by those artists who still wish to participate. Meanwhile, large tracts of white space would indicate those works that have been censored by the institution or self-censored by the artists.

Each (non)participant plus other interested commentators could be invited along to the opening. They could enter into debate over what has occurred, why and with what consequences. Each of the artists selected to take part in “Udda och jämt” would be compelled to explain their decisions. Did they withdraw in protest against the museum’s censorship, in support of Lars Vilks or for some other reason?

One such protagonist is the painter, Karin Mamma Andersson. She is on record as criticising Jamtli’s belated and apparently arbitrary decision to ban Vilks. But, prior to that, she was presumably happy for one of her paintings to share a wall with a work by Vilks? Or was she unaware of his participation? Whichever was the case, what “Udda och jämt” reveals is the multivocality of artworks and the powerplays inherent in the artworld. Art and artists are constantly being reframed – by the media and by curators in museums. Art never “speaks for itself”. This has been confirmed by the Jamtli debacle. Yet, rather than capitalise on this rare opportunity to unpick the workings of the artworld, what does the museum do? Simply shuts its doors, withdraws from the fray and waits for normal service to resume.

The greatest losers here are Jamtli’s public.

Because if Jamtli’s leadership had the courage of their convictions and gone ahead with this non-show then something fascinating would have occurred: the audience itself would have taken centre stage. Regular museum-goers and first-time visitors alike could have voiced their opinions about this so-called public institution. Do they applaud or abhor the actions of the museum and the behaviour of the artists?

The resulting dialogue would provide a roadmap for future decisions and contribute to an opening-up – a democratisation – of the museum.

As it is, by cancelling “Udda och jämt” the likes of Henrik Zipsane have simply placed an embargo on proper debate. And it is this lack of informed discussion and argument that characterises the hysteria around religion and freedom of expression.

The only winners here are those people who delight in spreading discord and miscommunication plus those misguided individuals and organisations who insist on separating “art” from life.

___
Note

(1) “Jamtli ställer in utställning”, Svenska Dagbladet, 29/08/2012, http://www.svd.se/kultur/jamtli-staller-in-utstallning_7458194.svd.

This blog posting is being written in Kuressaare on the beautiful Estonian island of Saaremaa. I am here as a participant in the final meeting of Nordic Spaces. This was a four-year research project that has explored the notion of “Norden”, the literal meaning of which is “the North”. 

One of the keynote speakers is Jong Kun Choi of the Institute of East-West Studies, Yonsei University. Yesterday he gave an address entitled, “Modelling the Nordic Peace: Perspectives from Northeast Asia”. In it he presented an informative, entertaining and unusual viewpoint on one of those seemingly perennial facets of “the North”: peace.

As he talked I started to surf the internet. My searches were informed by a text I have written as part of Nordic Spaces.(1) It focuses on the burgeoning and highly profitable Swedish arms trade. And, sure enough, I quickly discovered the sorts of things that go on under the radar of “Nordic peace”. 

Last year, for example, the Swedish arms company, Saab AB and the Republic of Korea secured a deal worth 450 billion Swedish kronor.(2) This concerned the purchase of an advanced weapon-locating system. The firm’s website indicates that this product has been “developed by Saab in Gothenburg, Sweden”.

It is, therefore, as authentically Nordic as Saab’s Carl Gustaf, an 84 mm multipurpose, man-portable, reusable recoilless rifle which shares its name with the King of Sweden.

Saab AB seems to like sweet-sounding weapons of mass destruction. The weapon-locating system making its way to the border between North and South Korea is called ARTHUR, which stands for ARTillery HUnting Radar.

Isn’t it wonderful that a region so synonymous with peace feels morally able to contribute to political disputes and simmering conflicts elsewhere in the world? 

Oh, how the management of Saab AB must love the mantra “Nordic peace”!

But be in no doubt: below the radar of our banal expectations is an utterly different conception of “the North” – one that certainly merits “remodelling”, to quote Jong Kun Choi.
 
___
Notes
 
(1) Stuart Burch, “Banal Nordism: Recomposing an Old Song of Peace”, forthcoming in Performing Nordic Heritage: Museums, Festivals and Everyday Life (Aronsson, P. & Gradén, L., eds.), Ashgate: Farnham, 2012.
(2) “Saab Receives Order For Weapon-Locating System”, press release dated, 31/01/2011, accessed 24/08/2012 at, http://www.saabgroup.com/About-Saab/Newsroom/Press-releases--News/2011---1/Saab-receives-order-for-weapon-locating-system1.

After writing Manipulating Moderna Museet, I decided to revisit the museum for one last look at "Image over Image" – a temporary exhibition devoted to the work of Elaine Sturtevant.

This decision was in itself noteworthy. In one of the gallery spaces it’s possible to watch a video of “The Powerful Pull of Simulacra”. This is the title of the lecture Sturtevant gave in conjunction with the show.(1) In it she argues that “objects are out; image is the power”. But if this is the case, why do we need a museum of objects such as Moderna Museet? Indeed, what is the point of making a physical pilgrimage to see “Image over Image”?

The answer, I think, is all to do with “the powerful pull of simulacra”. I paid a repeat visit to “Image over Image” in order to savour being in the presence of what might be termed “genuine fakes”. This is a reference to one of the most striking moments of Sturtevant’s lecture: the part when she talks about “falsity presented as truth”.

That evocative phrase – “falsity presented as truth” – encapsulates “Image over Image”.

My moment of epiphany came as I genuflected in a room containing four works entitled Warhol Flowers. These are all dated 1990 – the same year of creation as those Brillo boxes that Pontus Hultén so very generously donated to Moderna Museet.

And then it struck me!

Moderna Museet is a secular temple. Its sacred spaces and canonical texts authenticate that which it displays.

Sturtevant’s “Image over Image” has allowed Moderna Museet to reclaim Pontus Hultén’s “fake” Brillo boxes. This in turn expunges their questionable provenance which threatened to besmirch the good name of Moderna Museet’s most illustrious leader.

Thanks to Sturtevant, it is now possible for the Brillo boxes’ falsity to be presented as truth. For is it not the case that, at the very same time that Sturtevant was propagating Warhol Flowers, Hultén was conjuring up a whole new suite of Brillo boxes? Endorsing the former has the effect of validating the latter.

And that’s how dead artist’s can produce genuine works of art long after their deaths.

If you still don’t get it, well, that’s probably just your “determination to be stupid” – to quote that true original, Elaine Sturtevant.(2)

___
Note

(1) Elaine Sturtevant, “The Powerful Pull of Simulacra”, a talk given at the symposium, Beyond Cynicism: Political Forms of Opposition, Protest, and Provocation in Art, Moderna Museet, Stockholm, 18th March 2012.
(2) Ibid.

Each of the words listed above mean roughly the same thing. Yet they are distinguised by subtle nuances, each of which leads to crucial differences in import.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word synonym as:

        two or more words (in the same language) having the same general sense,
        but possessing each of them meanings which are not shared by the other or others,
        or having different shades of meaning or implications appropriate to different contexts.

The notion that meaning and implication are context dependent is highly significant. Take, for example, the following scenarios:

        a) A forgery on sale for millions of pounds at an auction

        b) a study hanging on the wall of an art gallery

The first of these two examples indicates a deliberate (often criminal) attempt to pass one thing off as another in order to undermine the art world and/or swindle both the potential buyer and the auction house.

A “study”, however, is an entirely different class of object:

        An artistic production executed for the sake of acquiring skill or knowledge,
        or to serve as a preparation for future work; a careful preliminary sketch for
        a work of art, or (more usually) for some detail or portion of it;
        an artist’s pictorial record of his observation of some object, incident,
        or effect, or of something that occurs to his mind, intended for his
        own guidance in his subsequent work.

The intention of the creator and the characterisation of the object determine in large part whether something is a worthless “forgery” or a valuable “study”.

The fascinating implications of all this have been apparent to people visiting Moderna Museet's “Image over Image” (17/03 – 26/08/2012).

At first glance this temporary exhibition looks like an impressive assemblage of iconic pieces by the likes of Joseph Beuys, Marcel Duchamp and Andy Warhol.

However, the person responsible for these works (and a few sex toys besides) is in fact the American artist, Elaine Sturtevant (born 1930).

A leaflet accompanying the show revels in this assemblage of playfully deceptive things that “defies description and instead frustrates, provokes and gathers strength in maintaining a perpetual stance of opposition.”

This characterisation is exactly the sort of on-the-edge radicalism to which Moderna Museet aspires. The Sturtevant show provides the institution with an opportunity to demonstrate that “Moderna Museet also has a history of confronting authenticity”. Cited in this regard are “the now internationally infamous Brillo boxes.”

The museum leaflet does not go into detail about why they are so infamous. Nor does it point out that they are currently exhibited in a gallery space immediately after the Sturtevant exhibition. The boxes in question are piled up in a corner alongside a label that reads:

Here, Moderna Museet emphatically does not deploy the Sturtevant exhibition to “confront” questions of authenticity or explore the nuances of words such as fabrication, facsimile, fake, forgery... Instead it lulls the vast majority of visitors into believing that the pile of boxes in the corner is a genuine artwork by Andy Warhol – produced three years after his death.

In truth these items were donated to Moderna Museet by their creator: its former director, Pontus Hultén. He used this institutional endorsement as leverage when selling other such boxes to private collectors at enormous personal profit.(1)

None of this is mentioned. Visitors are instead fed the normal fare of artspeak mystification enfolding both the temporary Sturtevant exhibition and the museum’s permanent collection. Of the latter, one room is themed: “Art as idea, language and process”. An introductory text panel by Cecilia Widenheim explains how the likes of “Marcel Broodthaers and Hans Haacke were among the first to criticise the art museum as an institution.” At the same time an artist such as “Öyvind Fahlström encouraged his viewers to ‘manipulate’ language.”

A superb example of language manipulation and the continuing need to critique an institution such as Moderna Museet lies immediately behind this vapid statement, namely those Brillo boxes by Andy Warhol (sic).

The means to highlight this are simple. All it would take is an action entirely in the spirit of Sturtevant’s “perpetual stance of opposition” and Moderna Museet’s proud “history of confronting authenticity” and Öyvind Fahlström’s encouragement for “viewers to ‘manipulate’ language.”

All one need do is quietly remove the “manipulative” label next to that pile of Brillo boxes and replace it with the following – what shall we call it? – facsimile, imitation, likeness, parody, transcription:

___
Note

(1) See my chapter “Introducing Mr Moderna Museet: Pontus Hultén and Sweden’s Museum of Modern Art” in Kate Hill (ed.) Museums and Biographies: Stories, Objects, Identities (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2012), pp. 29-44.

___

For a follow up to this story, see Falsity presented as truth (22/08/2012).

There has been a spate of scare stories recently about the "threat" to "our" heritage.

These often centre on fabulously valuable artworks owned by extremely wealthy people.

Occasionally the objects in question have been hanging quietly on the wall of a public art gallery - until, that is, the owner dies or runs out of cash.

A case in point is Picasso's Child with a Dove (1901). This is currently in limbo. It has been sold secretively to an unknown foreign buyer for an undisclosed sum (thought to be in the region of £50m).(1)

Unfortunately, the new owner will have to wait a while before getting their hands on it. This is because Britain's minister of culture has placed a temporary ban on its export in the hope that sufficient money can be raised to "save" this item "for the nation".

This is exactly what occurred just the other day in relation to a painting by Manet.(2) It cost the Ashmolean Museum £7.83m to "save" this integral piece of British culture from the rapacious hands of a dastardly foreigner.

But don't believe this rhetoric. Oh, and ignore the headline price and touching tales of little street urchins parting with their pennies to rescue this relic. It took upwards of £20m in tax breaks and donations from public bodies to ensure that national pride remained intact.

Yet this doesn't bode well for Picasso's little bird-loving child, does it? The art fund (sic) must surely have run out by now. So too have the superlatives and dramatic warnings from our media luvvies and museum moguls.

Indeed, their fighting funds were already seriously depleted after they chose to place £95m in the hands of the Duke of Sutherland - one of the richest men in the country.(3) This act of Robin Hood in reverse stopped the robber baron from flogging two paintings by Titian along with other trinkets he and his family had so generously loaned to the National Galleries of Scotland. And now the same museum is coming under "threat" again!

Soon we will have to watch as Picasso's little bird migrates to sunnier climes. The national heritage will be fatally winged by this terrible loss.

The consequences just don't bear thinking about...

This is just as well because, in truth, the only repercussions will be a slight dent to national pride plus a small gap on a museum wall. This can be filled by any number of artworks that are currently in store at the National Galleries of Scotland.

Deathly quiet will then return to this mausoleum of art...

Until, that is, we are panicked by the next siren call as yet another integral piece of Britain's (ha!) much-loved heritage comes under covetous foreign eyes.

Tell the world. Tell this to everyone, wherever they are. Watch the skies everywhere. Keep looking. Keep watching the skies.

'Cos you never know, you might just see a sweet bird by Picasso fly by...

____
Notes

(1) Anon, "Picasso's Child With A Dove in temporary export bar", BBC News, 17/08/12, http://www.bbc.co.uk./news/entertainment-arts-19283696; Maev Kennedy, "Picasso painting Child with a Dove barred from export", The Guardian, 17/08/12, http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2012/aug/17/picasso-child-with-a-dove-painting.
(2) Stuart Burch, "Manet money", 08/08/2012, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/08/manet-money.html.
(3) Stuart Burch, "Purloined for the nation", 03/04/12, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/04/purloined-for-the-nation.html.
   

Portrait of Mademoiselle Claus by the French artist Édouard Manet (1832-83) has just been purchased for £7.83. This is far less than the sum that would have been achieved on the open market. The reason for this is because the British government refused to allow the painting to be sold to a foreign buyer.

Once-upon-a-time export bars were justified on the grounds of ensuring that a work of art was being "saved for the nation". Interestingly, the new owner of the portrait - the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford - has rephrased this dubious claim. Manet's work, we are assured, has been "saved for the public".

The museum is obviously keen to justify the expenditure on this portrait of a foreign person by a foreign artist.

The purchase will, we are told, "completely transform" the Ashmolean, helping to turn it into "a world-leading centre for the study of Impressionist and post Impressionist art."

Portrait of Mademoiselle Claus is, in other words, a commodity used as a means of competing with rival collections, both in the UK and abroad. However, the Ashmolean is only able to take part in the competition because this particular item of trade has not been allowed to reach its true "value". This is due to the fact that "aesthetic importance" and national pride are deemed, in this instance, to outweigh considerations of mere money. The result being that the Ashmolean was able to purchase the item in question for only 27% of its market value.

The artwork's worth on the open market "net of VAT" was £28,350,000. The enormous difference between this and the £7.83m paid by the Ashmolean  represents a huge loss in taxation - at a time when Britain's economy is in a parlous state and when the government (it claims) is doing its utmost to tackle tax avoidance.

Mindful of this, the Ashmolean seeks to reassure us that it is "planning a full programme of educational activities, family workshops, and public events inspired by the painting."

But consider for a moment how many "educational activities" could be implemented for, say, £20 million (the difference between the "true" value of the artwork and the sum paid by the Ashmolean).

Fortunately we don't need to worry about this because money is very rarely talked about in our hallowed museums.

Manet's Portrait of Mademoiselle Claus is destined to merge seamlessly into the Ashmolean collection and be toured around various temporary exhibitions. A little label will list the charitable organisations and anonymous givers responsible for "saving it for the public". Yet the true cost of the commodity will be omitted.

Manet's money should not, however, be ignored.

Nor should one further, pressing issue. Just because Manet's painting is now "publicly" owned does not necessarily mean it will never again become a financial commodity. Alterations to the Museums Association's code of ethics mean that public museums in the UK are now able to "ethically" sell objects from their collections, albeit in exceptional circumstances.

This means that the same inventive logic and sleight of hand deployed to acquire Portrait of Mademoiselle Claus could be equally used to justify its future sale. As long, of course, that the money raised can be shown to be "for the benefit of the museum’s collection."

Where, however, will all this end? Might the change to the code of ethics be the first step towards the situation in the United States? San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, for example, recently sold Bridle Path by the American artist, Edward Hopper in order to "benefit acquisitions." Perhaps one day the Ashmolean could do the same with the support of the Museums Association and the connivance of the British government? The museum would go on to make a tidy profit from its Manet - some of which could then be used to support future "educational activities". And so it goes on...

Money might well be a taboo subject in museums. But the issues raised by Édouard Manet's Portrait of Mademoiselle Claus should serve to remind us that museums have their own carefully constructed economy: one that is just as inventive and artful as the "real" economy with its clever strategies of quantitative easing dreamt up by bands of unethical bankers.

With this in mind, should the Ashmolean have been allowed to buy the painting under such circumstances?

The answer, I think, is no.

Instead, the British government should take a leaf out of the Museums Association's code of ethics. It ought to have allowed the export, on the condition that all monies raised in taxation from the sale were ring-fenced and used to fund "educational activities" in our museums. This would go some way to offsetting recent reductions in museum funding - with outreach and education programmes suffering disproportionately as a consequence.

This outcome would be far more ethical and more effective than the spurious tokenism used by the Ashmolean to disguise its glee at acquiring a work of art that only a fraction of the public will see or have any interest in.


___________
Supplemental
09/08/2012

"Donations help keep Manet in UK". So reads the title of an article about this matter in today's Financial Times.(1) The newspaper chooses to foreground the generosity of "1,048 people who donated sums which ranged from £1.50 to £10,000". Framing the story in this manner is a carefully considered ploy. It seeks to underline the sense of universal public support and popular approval for this deal.

These contributions are certainly laudable. But they pale into insignificance given that the bulk of the £7.83m came from "the Heritage Lottery Fund, which contributed £5.9m, and the Art Fund, which gave £850,000".  The support of these official bodies plus the above-mentioned loss in tax revenue mean that the Ashmolean's latest acquisition must indeed have cost the state at least £20m.

This is, indeed, a conservative estimate. It is reported that 80% of the painting's value would have been levied in tax had it been sold on the open market.(2) It is the case, therefore, that the seller not only avoided a large tax bill; he or she also accrued more money by selling it to a UK museum for less than £8m as opposed to securing over £28m from a foreign buyer.

So, in a way, the FT is right: a very large donation has indeed kept Manet in the UK.

____
Notes

(1) Hannah Kuchler, "Donations help keep Manet in UK", Financial Times, 09/08/2012, http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/4168b256-e174-11e1-92f5-00144feab49a.html.
(2) Maev Kennedy, "Ashmolean buys Manet's Mademoiselle Claus after raising £7.8m",  The Guardian, 08/08/2012, http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2012/aug/08/ashmolean-buys-manet-mademoiselle-claus.

_____________
Other references

Anon (2011) "Culture Minister defers export of stunning portrait by Edouard Manet", Department for Culture,
    Media and Sport, 120/11, 08/12, http://www.culture.gov.uk/news/media_releases/8686.aspx
Anon (c.2011) "Last chance to keep Manet’s Portrait of Mademoiselle Claus in the UK", Department for Culture,
    Media and Sport, undated, accessed 08/09/2012 at, http://www.culture.gov.uk/news/news_stories/8685.aspx
Anon (c.2012) "Manet portrait saved for the public", undated, accessed 08/09/2012 at,
    http://www.ashmolean.org/manet/portrait/
Atkinson, Rebecca (2012) "Ashmolean acquires threatened Manet portrait for £7.83m", Museums Association, 08/08,
    http://www.museumsassociation.org/museums-journal/news/08082012-ashmolean-purchases-manet-portrait
Burch, Stuart (2012a) "Biting the hand that feeds", 22/03,
    http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/03/biting-the-hand-that-feeds.html
Burch, Stuart (2012b) "I scream, you scream, we all scream for The Scream", 20/03,
    http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/04/i-scream-you-scream-we-all-scream-for-the-scream.html
Burch, Stuart (2012c) "A Pearl of Dream Realm economics", 16/07,
    http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/07/a-pearl-of-dream-realm-economics.html
Holmes, Charlotte (n.d.) "Sale of collections", Museums Association, accessed 08/09/2012 at,
    http://www.museumsassociation.org/collections/sale-of-collections

The Bank of England is very, very fond of money.

Its insatiable love for lucre has led it on a hell-bent mission to churn out the stuff in colossal quantities.

This is known quaintly as “quantitative easing”.

Fortunately, the super intelligent electronic age in which we live means that the Bank of England doesn’t need to print money like it did in ye olden times. These days a simple press of a button is all it takes to magic it up.

And we are talking big magic.

An estimated £375bn – and counting.(1)

Meanwhile, bankers get bonuses for failure. HSBC has been implicated in drug running and money laundering. And those clever boys at Barclays Bank have been diligently manipulating the LIBOR rate. Oh, and don’t forget the ever-increasing and ever-more costly efforts being made to save the Euro.

For a long time I struggled and failed to comprehend this will-o’-the-wisp economics. Now, however, it all makes perfect sense.

You see, the mistake I made was to think that I was living in a town called Nottingham in the middle of England. Whereas in reality I am a resident of the Dream Realm in a city known as Pearl.

One thing above all others characterises this place: it's an all-pervading fraudulence. This condition is so pervasive that it is easily overlooked.

To the casual glance, buying and bargaining go on here according to the same customs as everywhere. This, however, is mere pretence, a grotesque sham. The whole of the money economy is “symbolic”. You never know how much you have. Money comes and goes, is handed out and taken in: everyone practices a certain amount of sleight of hand and quickly picks up a few neat ploys. The trick is to sound plausible. You only have to pretend to be handing something over. Here fantasies are simply reality. The incredible thing is the way the same illusion appears in several minds at once. People talk themselves into believing the things they imagined.

Everything required to understand the likes of Bob Diamond, Barclays Bank, the Bank of England and the LIBOR-rate rigging scandal is contained in that one paragraph.

The words are not mine: they are taken from Alfred Kubin’s The Other Side (Die Andere Seite). The Austrian expressionist artist wrote this mind-blowing novel in 1909. Little did he know that, over a century later, it would help me come to terms with an early 21st century financial crisis.

I am re-reading the book in conjunction with Nottingham Contemporary’s exhibition of early works by Kubin. The show opens on Saturday 21st July. I can’t wait to see it.

The staff at Nottingham Contemporary have rather unwisely asked me to lead a guided tour through the exhibition at 1 o’clock on Wednesday 1st August.(3)

What on earth will I talk about?

Thankfully – in contrast to our financial services – a “strong hand” dictates all that occurs in the Dream Realm.

So I certainly shouldn’t be lacking Kubinesque inspiration...

____
Notes

(1) “Q&A: Quantitative easing”, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-15198789.
(2) Alfred Kubin, The Other Side, transl. Mike Mitchell (Sawtry: Dedalus, 2000). The modified quotations reproduced here are taken from pages 60 and 62.
(3) “Wednesday Walk Throughs”, http://www.nottinghamcontemporary.org/event/wednesday-walk-throughs-4.

         
             “Great and congrats on Brussels. Just Ofcom to go!”

So goes a text message sent to James Murdoch by Jeremy Hunt, just hours before the Secretary of State for Culture was appointed to oversee News Corporation’s £8bn bid to take control of the satellite broadcaster, BSkyB.

Hunt claims that this was entirely consistent with his publicly-stated position.

Oddly enough, this is probably the reason why Mr Hunt will retain his job. Because the real issue here is whether Hunt was an appropriate individual to fulfil an impartial, “quasi-judicial” role in relation to News Corporation’s bid.

And who was it that considered Hunt to be the “solution”? Step forward Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne and his boss, Prime Minister David Cameron.

If Hunt were to resign these two politicians would be dangerously exposed.

Meanwhile, it has today been reported that the cap on tax exemption for charitable giving announced by Osborne in his last budget has been dropped.

No surprise there. What is of note is the very deliberate timing of this announcement, coming as it does on the day that Hunt gives his evidence to the Leveson inquiry into media ethics and during a period when parliament is not in session.

Words like unethical, incompetent, vacillating, self-serving and undemocratic spring to mind.

Now compare those words with the ones spouted by David Cameron when launching a new draft of the Ministerial Code fewer than two years ago:

    We must be different in how we think and how we behave.
    We must be different from what has gone before us.
    Careful with public money.
    Transparent about what we do and how we do it.
    Determined to act in the national interest, above improper influence.
    Mindful of our duty.
    Above all, grateful for our chance to change our country.(1)

So, great and congrats, Dave – there is no doubt about it: you really are changing our country.

___
Note

(1) Oonagh Gay, The Ministerial Code, Standard Note: SN/PC/03750, last updated 27th March 2012, available at, http://www.parliament.uk/briefing-papers/SN03750.pdf.

Yesterday Rupert Murdoch gave the first of two days of evidence to the Leveson Inquiry. A couple of things stood out that, when tied together, lead to one inescapable conclusion.

The first point of interest was Murdoch's insistence that "politicians go out of their way to impress people in the press".

This, he went on to add, was "part of the democratic process. All politicians on all sides like to have their views known by the editors or publishers of newspapers hoping they will be put across, hoping they will succeed in impressing people, that's the game."

Nevertheless, Mr Murdoch flatly denied ever asking for, or receiving, preferential treatment from politicians.

Is this to be believed? Well, consider this: in 1981, Rupert Murdoch was seeking to acquire The Times newspaper. Despite repeated and categorical denials, there is now evidence to show that he had a secret meeting about the matter with the then British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. It took place on 4th January 1981. Five weeks later her government sanctioned his take-over of The Times and The Sunday Times without referring it to the Monopolies and Mergers Commission.(1)

Now consider something else Murdoch told Leveson: "If politicians want my views they should read Sun editorials".

This is a tacit admission that Rupert Murdoch - as many people have long since argued - exerts a direct and decisive influence on the editorial opinions of his media outlets.

Remember that, aside from The Sun, Mr Murdoch's media empire owns, among other things, The Times, The Sunday Times and (until he culled it) The News of the World. Recall too that Murdoch's News Corp was within an ace of acquiring outright control of the satellite broadcaster BSkyB without the decision being referred to the Competition Commission.(2) This was thanks in large part to his incestuously close links to Prime Minister David Cameron and his cabinet colleagues such as Jeremy Hunt (Secretary of State for Culture, Olympics, Media and Sport) and the former Times journalist, Michael Gove (Secretary of State for Education).

For a single individual to control such a large chunk of the media landscape is wrong for precisely the reasons that Rupert Murdoch set out in his evidence to Leveson: "All politicians... like to have their views known by the editors or publishers of newspapers hoping... they will succeed in impressing people". How right he is: from Thatcher to Cameron via Blair and Brown - all have gone out of their way to impress Rupert Murdoch.

But Rupert Murdoch was fundamentally wrong about one thing: this is not "part of the democratic process".

It is the death of the democratic process.

This is why his media empire should be broken up.

How depressingly appropriate that it should fall to Murdoch's own evidence to Leveson for this case to be made rather than coming from the mouths of any of our fawning, self-serving and inherently unethical politicians.

___
Note

(1) Andrew McIntyre, "Thatcher and Murdoch met before Times acquisition", New Statesman, 19/03/2012, http://www.newstatesman.com/newspapers/2012/03/meeting-thatcher-murdoch-times.
(2) The matter was eventually referred - but only because of the phone-hacking scandal at the News of The World.

Two politicians have featured on this blog in recent weeks:

• Jeremy Hunt, the UK's Secretary of State for Culture, Olympics, Media and Sport
• Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth, Sweden's Minister for Culture and Sports

I playful pondered which of the two was least awful, finally favouring Hunt over Adelsohn Liljeroth.(1) However, in the light of today's revelations to the Leveson Inquiry, I now realize that this was misguided. For any Swedes who are dissatisfied with their culture minister should spare a thought for their British neighbours. Hunt has emerged as an utterly inappropriate individual to hold public office.(2) Confidential emails reveal that he completely abused his position in relation to the attempted take-over of BSkyB by Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. For example, in January 2011, News Corp's chief lobbyist wrote to James Murdoch to tell him that he had "managed to get some info" on an announcement that Hunt was to make to Parliament the following day – even though this was "absolutely illegal!"(3)

As it currently stands, Hunt says he did nothing wrong and James Murdoch dismissed the email comment as a joke.

But this is no laughing matter.

Yet don't be surprised if Hunt clings on to his job: the government needs him to stay in post in order to protect the British Prime Minister, David Cameron.* Cameron is just as guilty of unethical behaviour in his dealings with the Murdoch empire.

One positive thing has emerged out of all this. In his evidence to Leveson, James Murdoch conceded that greater efforts should have been made to "cut out the cancer" of phone hacking at his organisation.(4) Good to see Mr Murdoch accept something that Dennis Potter pointed out many years ago: Rupert Murdoch is a cancer that has infected and undermined British society for decades.(5)

The parlous state of Jeremy Hunt’s political health is a direct consequence of that cancer.

Get well soon, Jeremy!

___
Notes

(1) "Let them eat cake, Lena", 18/04/2012, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/04/let-them-eat-cake-lena.html.
(2) A hint of Hunt's partial handling of cultural affairs is outlined in my blog posting, "Hunt's cunning stunt", 23/03/2012 http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/03/hunts-cunning-stunt.html.
(3) "James Murdoch at the Leveson inquiry - live coverage", http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2012/apr/24/leveson-inquiry-phone-hacking.
(4) Ibid.
(5) "Dennis Potter and Rupert", 19/07/2011, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2011/07/dennis-potter-and-rupert.html.

____
Supplemental
25/04/2012

* Another figure to watch out for is Michael Gove, Secretary of State for Education and a former journalist at The Times. He is apparently "greatly admired by Rupert Murdoch". For his part the politician is less enamoured by the Leveson Inquiry, describing it as having a "chilling effect on freedom of speech". The man is clearly beyond parody.

See Nicholas Watt, "Leveson inquiry has chilling effect on freedom of speech, says Michael Gove", The Guardian, 21/02/2012, http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2012/feb/21/leveson-chilling-freedom-speech-gove.

Precisely one week ago I was a pilgrim.

My destination was a high temple of mammon in the bustling heart of the metropolis. The culmination of my pilgrimage was inside: it lay in silent, pristine isolation within a darkened room flanked by two acolytes.

Such was its sacred value that I was obliged to remain two metres from the object that had prompted my journey. Long had I travelled, yet still there remained a distance between me and the object of my desire.

This, alas, made it impossible to read the sacred text inscribed onto the reliquary. However, I knew what it said because the same prophesy had been reproduced in large letters on the wall of the antechamber: "... I felt a loud, unending scream piercing nature."

It was here that other canonical stories were told alongside portraits of the great creator and reproductions of other icons he had produced. The end wall of the anteroom was entirely taken up with a painted image of a prophetic sky. The flowing lines of red and yellow in the heavens found an echo in the procession of pilgrims waiting expectantly. The long, snaking queue they formed was surveilled by more attendants.

By this stage the congregation had already passed through two layers of security: one at the entrance to the temple and another at the opening to the antechamber. A third barrier awaited us at the very threshold of the relic room. Holy water and other fluids had to be left at the gate. Recording devices were forbidden, presumably for fear of draining the object of its power.

And then - oh joy of joys - I found myself before the one thing that I knew I could never possess. And yet - for the two minutes that I was able to be in its presence - it was mine. The jewel was dazzling in the darkness. The reds burned my eyes. But my troubled soul was eased.

For are we not told again and again that we live in the age of angst? Hell and damnation are just around the corner. The future is to be feared. We find temporary salvation in past perturbations: sunken ships being particularly popular just now.(1)

What better way to silence past pains and future fears than to stand before a silent scream of anguish?

And it was now or never: the relic might never be accessible to me again. This is because it stands at a liminal moment between private ownership and public auction. Perhaps its future owner will opt to be cremated with the relic in a last desperate attempt to disprove the adage that there are no pockets in a shroud?(2)

Surely no public institution could scrape together the requisite sum when it goes to auction in New York on 2nd May? Its financial value is boosted by the knowledge that, whilst there are other versions of the same relic, these all exist in public institutions and will thus never come on the market.

Oh, how I thanked the great auction house for allowing a humble nonentity like myself to enter their hallowed halls. It was an honour to be at the receiving end of the surly contempt dished out by the officiators and the disdain of their fellow apron-clad operatives.

Indeed, it felt as if I had been singled out for special treatment. I stood and queued not once but twice to be in the presence of holiness. On my second visit I lingered longer than my fellow true believers and fell into conversation with one of the acolytes standing guard. I was rather shocked to discover that he was a normal person - a pilgrim like me. Soon the others left. I was alone with the security team and one other person. His accoutrements marked him out as a Very Special Person: around his neck were several cameras. Surely no-one normal could be allowed such equipment, especially of such phallic magnitude as the long lens he held in his skilful hands.

I too held something that, I think, helped ensure I was able to dwell a little longer than the others: a pen and notepad. Moreover, my closely cropped hair and rather ridiculous beard perhaps marked me out as someone who just might possibly be out-of-the-ordinary and important enough not to treat with the usual contempt reserved for "the public".

Be that as it may, I was able to witness a miracle. For lo and behold, the ceiling began to slide back and in shot radiant shafts of sunlight. What is more, one of the two glass screens standing between me and the relic was drawn aside. This, it transpired, was because The Camera Man worked for a hallowed organisation referred to cryptically as "The F.T." and he was here to take a photograph of the relic and its current owner!(3) The glass was therefore a hindrance - so too was the darkness.

So I watched in awe as blinding light flooded into the room. I had a sudden urge to gather together the security team and arrange them into a pose plastique of Caravaggio's Conversion of Saint Paul (after all, we all saw the light but heard not the voice).

Surely I could never dream of experiencing anything so wondrous?

But what was this? In the cold light of day I noticed that much of the relic's appeal lay in clever lighting. Any old golden-framed scrap of cardboard would have looked special when exposed to such trickery. As the reds and oranges faded in the sunlight I realised that this was no relic. It was a false idol.

I remained rooted to the spot. More acolytes came. They were evidently getting increasingly anxious because the owner was delayed doing something else. The crowds outside were lengthening. Something had to be done. So The Scream's screen was replaced and the natural light shut out once more. The room's interior slowly disappeared and the relic shone forth again.

Returned to the darkness, I began to castigate myself: Oh, ye of little faith! How could I have doubted my belief in Art? The vision had been there all the time. It was I who had wavered.

Soon the chamber was filled with other pilgrims and the two minute rule was enforced.

I was ejected and found myself amongst other artworks.

But I had been changed by my recent experiences. I began to look more critically at the second-rate relics that surrounded me. These were clearly of a lower order. They were rudely stacked together cheek by jowl. Is it not the case that, when one has been touched by greatest, mere brilliance leaves one disenchanted? This was exacerbated by the fact that I could come as close as I liked to these tawdry things with their million dollar price tags.

I sidled up to other images by the same disciple who had produced the relic before which I had just genuflected. One was described as being "Property from a European private collection". Yet four others, apparently of equal authenticity and appeal, were marked as "Property from an important private collection".(4)

How curious! Value is clearly not inherent in the relic itself; greatness is at least in part conferred on it by the significance of the anonymous owner.

Ownership of a different kind struck me when it came to another work, namely Bridle Path painted in 1939 by the American artist, Edward Hopper (1882-1967). This was described as follows:

"Property of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, sold to benefit acquisitions."

Isn't that a bit like divorcing a spouse in order to save one's marriage?

This got me thinking about the great relic next door. Maybe its cousins in public collections aren't quite as immune from sale as we might suppose? What goes for San Francisco Museum of Modern Art might, one day, apply to Norway's National Gallery or Munch Museum...

In an effort to repress this troubling thought, I started to ponder who was behind the present sale - and why? In search of answers I sneaked back to the antechamber and consulted the oracles on the walls. Its vendor is Petter Olsen, a businessman whose ship-owning father - Thomas Fredrik Olsen (1897-1969) - was a neighbour of the artist, Edvard Munch. Olsen junior skilfully deployed the same sort of logic as the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art: the work was being sold on the pretext of wishing to establish a new museum devoted to the artist.

The text neglected to mention one other interesting fact: the owner's older brother had been disinherited of the majority of the artworks that his father had acquired. This triggered a long and costly legal battle that was eventually won by Petter Olsen.(5) Had his brother Fred triumphed, would he have chosen to flog off his family inheritance like young Petter?

All this sibling rivalry sounds like a Nordic version of the story of Isaac and his twin sons Esau and Jacob. Oh, the religious parallels! And what better way to mask the fact that the saga described here is entirely about earthly power and riches than by dressing it up with pseudo-religious paraphernalia?

Knowing as I do that "even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table" (Matthew 15:27), I assembled a collection of mementos of my visit. These included the thickest, most luxurious napkin I have ever touched. Embossed on it are silver letters that spell the word: Sotheby's. I also retained an apparently free pen and a leaflet with thumbnail reproductions of the things I had seen. I even bought a special book, the cover of which is embossed with an image of the relic.(6)

Eventually I made moves to leave the temple. At the doorway I was met with the anguished cries of those who were told that the queues to see the sacred object had reached such magnitude that would-be pilgrims were being turned away.

Finding myself on the streets once more I came face to face with a reproduction of the relic. This too had a certain majesty, courtesy of its glassy, golden architectural surround. People walked by. Yet even these non-believers - who clearly had no wish to enter - murmured to each other in knowing recognition of what they glimpsed in the window.

I decided to make my way to another temple known as Forbidden Planet. I arrived to the plaintive cry of a young boy aged about six or seven. Oblivious to his father's attempts to placate him he wailed repeatedly: "I just want to buy something!"

This young lad had already learnt one of life's crucial lessons: we consumers are fated never to be satisfied because we know that there is always something better just beyond our reach. That's why Edvard Munch's The Scream is so important. It is at the apex of the consumer market. The ultimate commodity. Tastes will change but its values are - we are led to believe - eternal.

Pilgrims of the past used to acquire souvenirs to show that they had been on a pilgrimage. I have a reproduction of one such pilgrim badge depicting the early British Christian martyr, Saint Alban. He is shown in rude health despite having just being decapitated. The scene is all too much for the Roman soldier standing alongside: in his hands he holds his eyes, which have literally popped out of their sockets in disbelief.

I travelled to Forbidden Planet to acquire a little memento of my day. And I found the perfect thing: a plastic pigeon complete with plastic pooh.(7) A bargain at £44.99 ("How much?" cried my wife!) This foul fowl will decorate our new home, greeting unsuspecting visitors as they enter. These guests may very well think that they are looking at a pathetic plastic toy acquired by an immature weirdo. Yet they will in truth be in close proximity to pure genius: a plastic piece of the true cross. Just like my battered version of The Screaming Scream seen in the video above.

Because, I scream, you scream, we all scream for Edvard Munch's many, many, many Screams.(8)

___
Notes

(1) Two such ships currently being commemorated are RMS Titanic (sank 15th April 1912) and HMS Sheffield. The latter saw service during the Falklands War. It was attacked by an Argentine Lockheed P-2 Neptune aircraft on 4th May 1982 and sank six days later. Ten crewmen died - as I heard this morning in a very moving episode of BBC Radio 4's series, The Reunion (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01dmdnb#synopsis).
(2) This is a reference to the Japanese businessman, Ryoei Saito. In 1990 he acquired Vincent van Gogh's Portrait of Dr. Gachet for the then record-breaking sum of $82.5m. Rumours have since circulated that he issued instructions for it to be cremated with him when he died in 1996. Its location remains uncertain.
(3) The photographer in question appears to have been Charlie Bibby. His highly amusing image was used to illustrate the following article, Peter Aspden, "So, what does The Scream mean?", Financial Times,  21/04/2012, accessed 22/04/2012 at, http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/42414792-8968-11e1-85af-00144feab49a.html.
(4) These are, respectively, Edvard Munch's Summer Night (1917, see Woll, Vol. 3, No. 1235); Woman Looking in the Mirror (1892, see Woll, Vol. 1, No. 270); Clothes on a Line in Åsgårdstrand (1902, see Woll, Vol. 2, No. 529); Night in Saint-Cloud (n.d., see Woll, Vol. 3, No. 287); and The Sower (1913, see Woll, Vol. 3, No. 1043). See Gerd Woll's four-volume catalogue raisonné, Edvard Munch: Complete Paintings (London: Thames & Hudson, 2009).
(5) Gro Rognmo, "Lillebror Olsen tok siste stikk", Dagbladet, 06/06/2011, accessed 20/04/2012 at, http://www.dagbladet.no/nyheter/2001/06/06/261987.html.
(6) Sue Prideaux, Reinhold Heller, Adam Gopnik & Philip Hook, Edvard Munch: The Scream (New York: Sotheby's, 2012).
(7) This is a  Kidrobot Staple Pigeon. See http://stapledesign.com/2011/11/kidrobot-staple-pigeon.
(8) The famous phrase "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream" is from the brilliant film Down by Law directed by Jim Jarmusch (1986):

What makes an event newsworthy?

This is something I've been pondering in the wake of the widespread coverage devoted to Sweden's minister of culture, Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth.

She recently attended World Art Day at Moderna Museet in Stockholm.

This was initiated by the Swedish Artists' National Organization (Konstnärernas Riksorganisation, KRO) to mark its 75th anniversary. The jubilee celebration featured a panel discussion around the theme of "Freedom of Artistic Expression and Dialogue with Society".(1)

Delegates didn't have to wait long to test the importance of this issue. As part of World Art Day, Moderna Museet provided the venue for a "happening" by the artist, Makode Aj Linde.

He produced a large cake in the shape of a naked black woman with his own head peeking out at the top.

Aj Linde wailed and screamed as the blood-red sponge cake was cut. The first incisions began at the figure's "clitoris". This is because the artist intended his so-called "genital mutilation cake" to draw attention to women whose lives continue to be blighted by the scourge of female circumcision.(2)

One of those wielding the cake knife was the aforementioned Adelsohn Liljeroth. She was subsequently forced to defend her actions following searing criticisms from the National Afro-Swedish Association (Afrosvenskarnas riksförbund, ASR).

The image of the laughing politician stuffing her face with cake to the delight of the watching all-white art darlings led a spokesman for ASR to condemn this "racist spectacle" and demand the minister's resignation.(3)

Inevitably an affair such as this polarises opinion. But for me its most remarkable aspect is the tremendous global attention it has generated. I can't for one moment imagine that an august publication such as Britain's Daily Mirror newspaper has had much cause to write about Moderna Museet in the past. But its website currently has a large feature devoted to the story accompanied by a series of photographs, including a most unfortunate picture of Adelsohn Liljeroth squealing with delight as she feeds Makode Aj Linde with a slice of his (sic) own vagina.(4)

Turning to a source such as Google News reveals that this incident has been broadcast across various platforms and in multiple languages around the world. In the time it takes to cut a cake, Moderna Museet has gained far more publicity than it has been accorded in all the years I have spent analyzing it.

Whether this attention is merited is a moot point. The person whose bomb threat led to the temporary evacuation of the museum is unlikely to be receptive to a balanced discussion of Makode Aj Linde's work.

However, all this most certainly marks a deliciously apposite high point in Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth's glittering political career. She has been a government minister for more years than I care to remember. Such is her prowess that, faced with the invidious choice of her or Jeremy Hunt for the post of minister of culture, I'd begrudgingly settle for the latter. She really is that awful.

Yet hopefully even Adelsohn Liljeroth will have learnt one thing from this fracas: you can't have your cake and eat it (unless, that is, you're Makode Aj Linde and are being fed tasty morsels by a dim-witted politician).

___
Notes

(1) "Fira World Art Day och KRO 75 år!" See http://www.kro.se/3561.
(2) Luke Harding, "Swedish minister denies claims of racism over black woman cake stunt", The Guardian, 17/04/2012, accessed 18/04/2012 at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/apr/17/sweden-europe-news?intcmp=239.
(3) David Landes, "Minister in 'racist circumcision outrage'", The Local, 17/04/2012, accessed 18/04/2012 at, http://www.thelocal.se/40312/20120417.
(4) Natalie Evans, "'Genital mutilation cake is misunderstood': Artist behind Swedish culture minister 'racist cake' row defends his work", Daily Mirror, 18/04/2012, accessed 18/04/2012 at, http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-news/racist-cake-artist-behind-swedish-798491.