 |
| Pedro, 2000. |
URL: http://www.anamnese.pt, 2004
No seu
diário de 27 de Junho de 1983, Andy Warhol escreve: "Só que, desde os anos
60, depois de anos e anos e de mais 'gente' nas notícias, ainda não sabemos
mais nada sobre as pessoas. Talvez se saiba mais, mas não se sabe melhor. É
como se vivêssemos com alguém e também não tivéssemos qualquer ideia. Por isso,
de que nos vale toda esta informação?".
Quando
olho para as pinturas de Arlindo Silva, penso imediatamente no comentário de
Warhol. As pinturas baseiam-se em instantâneos da vida quotidiana num
apartamento que Arlindo Silva partilhou com alguns amigos no Porto. Os temas
nada têm de especial. É, contudo, no processo de transferir as fotografias para
pinturas que alguma coisa acontece.
Por um
lado, os temas do quotidiano parecem apontar para um sentimento de estar fora
do mundo. Isto é muito claro em Pedro, de 2000. Um jovem está sentado num
quarto fixando um aparelho de televisão desligado. Parece não confiar nem no
mundo real para lá do quarto nem no mundo de ficção canalizado pela televisão.
Está simplesmente ali sentado, pasmado.
Que
sabemos dele? Arlindo Silva nada revela. "Pedro" poderia ser eu - ou
o leitor. Mas, por outro lado, o processo artístico de converter o instantâneo
numa imagem cuidadosamente pintada cria por si só um novo significado. O
artista dedica aos amigos e ao ambiente que os rodeia uma atenção respeitosa. O
contraste entre o rápido instantâneo e a lenta interpretação através da pintura
torna-se quase nostálgico. Os momentos do quotidiano não são esquecidos. Estes
dias na vida de Arlindo Silva são para sempre lembrados na sua pintura.
Posso,
contudo, divisar nas pinturas de Arlindo Silva uma crítica mais aguda. Rafael
Argullol e Eugenio Trías escrevem em "El cansancio de Occidente", de
1992: "A passividade é característica dos homens de hoje. E é óbvio: se as
pessoas se tornam espectadores e se lhes é roubada qualquer possibilidade de influência,
isso gera um ser passivo. Mas tudo isto acontece, é claro, a coberto do seu
oposto. Toda a espécie de pseudo-eventos prossegue no meio de um fluxo de
actividade constante; actividade que reforça o passivo, um movimento
ininterrupto que se extingue na imobilidade. Falamos de todo o stress e
frenesim da nossa sociedade, mas a impressão final é a de que perseguimos o
vazio".
Argullol e
Trías referem-se especialmente ao modo como os meios de comunicação de massas
modificaram a nossa abordagem do mundo de hoje. Neste contexto, a obra Pedro,
de Arlindo Silva, torna-se quase iconográfica. A realidade mutante de hoje é
que muitos de nós, pelo menos na classe média do Ocidente, temos a
possibilidade de estar no mundo como nunca antes. Se temos acesso à tecnologia
da informação ou se temos uma quantidade razoável de dinheiro, sem sermos
necessariamente ricos ou abastados, o mundo encolheu e podemos viajar virtual e
realmente e ser parte do mundo para além da sua geografia. É uma utopia de
universalidade que parece ter-se tornado verdade.
Mas o
efeito é também um bombardeamento de informação. As possibilidades de
realizarmos a nossa vida são infinitas - a acreditar nas técnicas de sedução
dos meios de comunicação de massas. Mas como encarar isto? Como pode um artista
exercer uma prática sem que ela se torne uma actividade sem sentido que apenas
se refere a si mesma? De igual modo, como Michael Hardt e Antoni Negri explicam
em Empire, de 2000, o antigo imperialismo ocidental transformou-se hoje num
império, sobretudo nos Estado Unidos: "O império manobra identidades
híbridas, hierarquias flexíveis e trocas plurais através da modulação de redes
de comando. As diferentes cores nacionais do mapa imperialista do mundo
diluíram-se e misturaram-se no global arco-íris imperial". Mas, num mundo
onde as fronteiras são pouco nítidas e o significado e o valor são relativos,
Hardt e Negri avisam: "O domínio do império não tem limite".
A resposta
de Arlindo Silva é criar significado através de um contexto privado. E porque
não? O indivíduo tem hoje de se situar. Temos de aprender a compreender que
somos sempre globais - algures. A geografia está estilhaçada e temos de começar
a navegar com base nas nossas próprias experiências. O veículo para tal viagem
não é "Quem sou eu?" mas antes "Quando sou eu?". As nossas
experiências não são, porém, apenas globais; são tanto as minhas experiências
privadas, enraizadas no meu contexto privado, como as experiências colectivas
de um mundo que partilhamos e em que vivemos juntos.
Se
pretendo situar-me, se me quero posicionar na geografia estilhaçada, tenho de
contar uma história - a minha história. Se esta história é verdadeira, não é a
de qualquer outra pessoa mas a minha. É claro que isto cria um certo
mal-entendido, uma indizível distância entre mim e os outros. Arlindo Silva
aponta um espaço no mundo para contar esta história. Não é o ciberespaço.
Tão-pouco é o etnoespaço. É um espaço mental, dentro de mim, dentro do meu
semelhante.
Tradução do
inglês de Maria Ramos.
Broken Geographies
In his diaries of June 27th, 1983, Andy Warhol writes: "But then, since the sixties, after years and years and more 'people' in the news, you still don't know anything more about people. Maybe you know more, but you don't know better. Like you live with someone and not have any idea, either. So what good does all this information do you?"
When I look at the paintings of Arlindo Silva, I immediately think about Warhol's remark. The paintings are based on snapshots taken of everyday life in an apartment Silva shared with friends in Oporto. The motifs are nothing special. But it is in the process of transferring the photos into paintings that something happens.
On the one hand, the everyday motifs seem to point to a feeling of being outside the world. This is very obvious in Pedro from 2000. A young man sits in a room staring at a TV set that is turned off. He doesn't seem to trust either the real world outside the room nor the fictional world through the television. He just sits there, staring blankly.
What do we know about him? Silva doesn't reveal anything. "Pedro" could be me - or you. But on the other hand, the artistic process of turning the everyday snapshot into a carefully painted image creates a new meaning in itself. He treats his friends and surroundings with respectful attention. The contrast between the quick snapshot and the slow interpretation through painting becomes almost nostalgic. The everyday moments are not forgotten. These days in Arlindo Silva´s life are remembered forever in his paintings.
But I can also trace a greater criticism in Silva's paintings. Rafael Argullol and Eugenio Trías write in "El cansancio de Occidente" from 1992: "Passivity is the hallmark of humans today. And it´s clear: if people are turned into spectators and robbed any possibility of influence, this gives rise to a passive being. But all this, of course, takes place under the guise of its opposite. All manner of pseudo-events go on amid a stream of constant activity; activity that reinforces the passive, an uninterrupted motion that fades into immobility. We speak of all the stress and hectiness in our society, but the final impression is of a pursuit of emptiness."
Argullol and Trías refer especially to the way the mass media and mass communication have changed our approach to the world today. In this context Silva's "Pedro" becomes almost iconographic. The changing reality of today is that many of us, at least in the middle-class West have the possibility of being in the world like never before. If we have access to information technology, or if we have a reasonable amount of money, without necessarily being rich or wealthy, the world has shrunk and we can virtually and really travel and be part of the world beyond its geography. It is a utopia of universality that seems to have come true.
But the effect is also a bombardment of information. The possibilities of fulfilling your life are endless - if you want to believe the mass media´s mating calls. But how to face this? How can an artist practise something without it becoming a meaningless activity that only refers to itself? Or, as Michael Hardt and Antoni Negri explain in Empire, from 2000, how the former Western imperialism has today been transformed into empire, particularly by the US: "Empire manages hybrid identities, flexible hierarchies, and plural exchanges through modulating networks of command. The distinct national colors of the imperialist map of the world have merged and blended in the imperial global rainbow." But in a world where borders are blurred, meaning and value relative, Hardt and Negri warn us: "Empire's rule has no limit".
Arlindo Silva's response is to create meaning through a private context. And, why not? The subject today has to map itself. We have to learn to understand that we always are global - somewhere. The geography is broken and we have to start to navigate from our own experiences. The vehicle for such a journey is not "Who am I?", but rather - "When am I?" But our experiences are not only global; it is as much my private experiences, rooted in my own private context, as it is collective experiences from a world that we share and live in together.
If I want to map myself, if I want to position myself in the broken geography, I have to tell a story - my story. If this story is true, it's not anybody else's but mine. Of course, this creates a certain misunderstanding, an untranslatable distance between myself and others. Arlindo Silva points out a space in the world to tell this story. It's not cyberspace. And it's not ethnospace. It is a mental space, within myself, within my fellow being.
Broken Geographies
In his diaries of June 27th, 1983, Andy Warhol writes: "But then, since the sixties, after years and years and more 'people' in the news, you still don't know anything more about people. Maybe you know more, but you don't know better. Like you live with someone and not have any idea, either. So what good does all this information do you?"
When I look at the paintings of Arlindo Silva, I immediately think about Warhol's remark. The paintings are based on snapshots taken of everyday life in an apartment Silva shared with friends in Oporto. The motifs are nothing special. But it is in the process of transferring the photos into paintings that something happens.
On the one hand, the everyday motifs seem to point to a feeling of being outside the world. This is very obvious in Pedro from 2000. A young man sits in a room staring at a TV set that is turned off. He doesn't seem to trust either the real world outside the room nor the fictional world through the television. He just sits there, staring blankly.
What do we know about him? Silva doesn't reveal anything. "Pedro" could be me - or you. But on the other hand, the artistic process of turning the everyday snapshot into a carefully painted image creates a new meaning in itself. He treats his friends and surroundings with respectful attention. The contrast between the quick snapshot and the slow interpretation through painting becomes almost nostalgic. The everyday moments are not forgotten. These days in Arlindo Silva´s life are remembered forever in his paintings.
But I can also trace a greater criticism in Silva's paintings. Rafael Argullol and Eugenio Trías write in "El cansancio de Occidente" from 1992: "Passivity is the hallmark of humans today. And it´s clear: if people are turned into spectators and robbed any possibility of influence, this gives rise to a passive being. But all this, of course, takes place under the guise of its opposite. All manner of pseudo-events go on amid a stream of constant activity; activity that reinforces the passive, an uninterrupted motion that fades into immobility. We speak of all the stress and hectiness in our society, but the final impression is of a pursuit of emptiness."
Argullol and Trías refer especially to the way the mass media and mass communication have changed our approach to the world today. In this context Silva's "Pedro" becomes almost iconographic. The changing reality of today is that many of us, at least in the middle-class West have the possibility of being in the world like never before. If we have access to information technology, or if we have a reasonable amount of money, without necessarily being rich or wealthy, the world has shrunk and we can virtually and really travel and be part of the world beyond its geography. It is a utopia of universality that seems to have come true.
But the effect is also a bombardment of information. The possibilities of fulfilling your life are endless - if you want to believe the mass media´s mating calls. But how to face this? How can an artist practise something without it becoming a meaningless activity that only refers to itself? Or, as Michael Hardt and Antoni Negri explain in Empire, from 2000, how the former Western imperialism has today been transformed into empire, particularly by the US: "Empire manages hybrid identities, flexible hierarchies, and plural exchanges through modulating networks of command. The distinct national colors of the imperialist map of the world have merged and blended in the imperial global rainbow." But in a world where borders are blurred, meaning and value relative, Hardt and Negri warn us: "Empire's rule has no limit".
Arlindo Silva's response is to create meaning through a private context. And, why not? The subject today has to map itself. We have to learn to understand that we always are global - somewhere. The geography is broken and we have to start to navigate from our own experiences. The vehicle for such a journey is not "Who am I?", but rather - "When am I?" But our experiences are not only global; it is as much my private experiences, rooted in my own private context, as it is collective experiences from a world that we share and live in together.
If I want to map myself, if I want to position myself in the broken geography, I have to tell a story - my story. If this story is true, it's not anybody else's but mine. Of course, this creates a certain misunderstanding, an untranslatable distance between myself and others. Arlindo Silva points out a space in the world to tell this story. It's not cyberspace. And it's not ethnospace. It is a mental space, within myself, within my fellow being.
