In his curatorial statement, Pirotte states that the conceptual inspiration of the exhibition is French dramatist Jean Genet’s 1950s play “Le Balcon,” set in an unnamed city during a political uprising. The balcony serves as the illusion of stability for the cloistered elite, estranging them from the reality of a revolution which threatens their existence. The relationship between the elite and the balcony proves to be an illusionary moment of affluence before their privilege is overtaken by revolution. However, the artist’s choice to freeze the balcony in the moment before chaos suggests the destructive fate of the elite, while continuing to uphold the hierarchical motif of the balcony. As the balcony hovers above the viewer, and the elites maintain power on an unstable framework, the deconstruction of capitalism is indicated – but never fulfilled.

The possibilities of “ethical hedonism” and “joyous utilitarianism” the exhibition aims to celebrate are undercut by virtue of the way the art is displayed.

South Korean-born, Berlin-based Haegue Yang challenges the exhibition’s overarching theme of contradictory social and moral impulses by making everyday objects seem unfamiliar. In doing so, Yang demonstrates how pursuing an ethical lifestyle is challenging, considering our current economic model. The show’s press release states the concerns of the Biennale as emphasizing “a materialistic, sensualistic approach to the world” and advocating the development of “an ethical hedonism and a joyous utilitarianism.” Yang responds to this by rendering common household objects unfamiliar, thus refusing a literal imitation of the real world. Her strategies speak to the ways in which the evasion of representation can be both productive and stimulating.

In Can Cosies Pyramid – Tulip 34 og Silver, Yang yokes together haystacks with clusters of rainbow yarn. She stacks food canisters encrusted with gaudy diamantes, and decorates a plush stool with colourful, lurid beads. The whole display has a garish yet inexplicably alluring quality. Anytime a viewer contemplates an art object, they are thinking about the relationship between their bodies, the object, and the space in between. The strangeness of Yang’s hybrid sculptures intensifies the viewer’s desire to physically touch, explore, and experience them. Her sculptures advocate a sensual comprehension of objects, rather than a cognitive one – a relationship that, in one sense, compels viewers not to make sense of the object in terms of its utility or provenance, but instead leads them to feel its aesthetic magnetism.

Artworks that critique or posit alternative models of object relations in capitalist society actually feed back into that very cycle of capitalist ownership.

Yang liberates her objects from their functional context, subverting our desire to possess them by demonstrating the integrity of meanings they have which go beyond our understanding. By refusing the viewer’s authority to monopolize the meaning of her artistic elements, Yang allows these everyday objects, now made unfamiliar, an agency to take on their own meaning. In doing so, Yang gratifies the viewer in another way – allowing them to apprehend the object sensually, but within a framework of alienated distance.

Luc Tuymans’ otherworldly Doha paintings concur with Yang’s interpretation of art as partial and subjective. Allusion and suggestion are fundamental to Tuymans’ aesthetic, which questions the possibility of objective representations of reality. He shows how memory, for instance, always taints the reproduction of an image by employing blurriness in his paintings to capture the fading quality of memory. By recreating and altering existing photographs and film stills, Tuymans demonstrates that the painting process already represents an idea of imitation loss of time, and that the artist’s desire to precisely render an image is unattainable – creating a sense of loss and disconnect between the artist’s intent and the work itself. Rather than trying to erase this loss, Tuymans’ work emphasizes it.

Artists such as Yang and Tuymans deconstruct the relationships between consumer/object and, spectator/artwork – made pervasive due to capitalism and ideas of private property – by purposely obscuring an artwork’s meaning through partial representation. These works seek to de-familiarize objects or images in order to detach them from their contemporary capitalist utility. Our attraction to objects for their potential to be consumed suggests fixed, a priori meanings of objects, which are marketed to appeal to the spectator who exists within this system of commercialization. However, these artworks suggest that new relationships with objects are possible: sensual ones that are subjective, individual, and original.

Nevertheless, the possibilities of “ethical hedonism” and “joyous utilitarianism” the exhibition aims to celebrate are undercut by virtue of the very way that the art is displayed. While artists such as Haegue Yang effectively refuses the art object’s ability to be possessed by consumer society, the very context in which her sculptures are exhibited subverts the validity of her argument.

The very context in which her sculptures are exhibited subverts the validity of her argument.

The contemporary art market is fixated on the art object, thus marginalizing other experimental and intangible forms of art, such as internet-based artworks or conceptual and performance art. “The Grand Balcony” promulgates the coveting of the art object as a marketable commodity through its placement in a museum – a legitimizing institution that determines its perceived value. As a result, artworks that critique or posit alternative models of object relations in capitalist society actually feed back into that very cycle of capitalist ownership in their presentation. The legitimizing powers of the museum and of the prestigious Biennale further increase the economic value of those artworks and their potential to be monetized.

Within a gallery, the artist, as the producer of these objects, gains status and exposure. For instance, up-and-coming artists such as Nicole Eisenmann’s paintings are exhibited alongside the prestigious Doha series by Tuymans, a strategy further placing the artist in service of the very economic model they seek to critique. Despite the creative possibilities that non-representational painting and sculpture offer, to what extent do depictions of faded memories in Tuymans’ work, or hybridity as in Yang’s work, actually subvert the visual paradigm of consumerism?

Eschewing objective representation in art is one way to recuperate relationships with objects and space that have degenerated through capitalist ideologies of ownership and property. The artworks in “The Grand Balcony” are provocative in the ways they play with the dynamic relationship between the viewer, the art, and the gallery space. While visually stimulating, the art is ultimately undermined by the display rhetoric of the museum. For a moment, we are so enthralled by these elusive and sensuous works that we almost forget to consider the contextual significance of the museum and the ways in which it undermines their message – leaving the viewer to uncomfortably wonder if they have had a meaningful experience of the art or have reinforced its commercialization.

The Montreal Biennale runs until January 15.

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Moth explores spaces where human intervention has left them bereft of life. The film begins with closeups of a verdant landscape accompanied by the ambient hum of birds and splash of water, then zooms out into images of brutalistic architecture as intense, orchestral music begins to play. By contrasting two uninhabited settings, Moth explores how emptiness proves tranquil in nature, yet beleaguering and desolate in the city. Moth uses photographic stills to amplify the spectral quality of these buildings, populated by empty chairs and vacant hallways.

Moth explores spaces where human intervention has left them bereft of life.

The only dimension of the film that gave life to these uninhabited spaces was the operatic music. Unlike the natural, diegetic sound that emanated from the previous landscape, the superimposed music was used to obscure the silence that underscores these man-made spaces. Moth exploits the medium of film by editing in sound and contrasting interior and exterior fragments to demonstrate how these edits are necessary to make palatable what we have perverted.

Towards the middle of the film, there is an abrupt scene change accompanied by what sounds like the smoke monster siren sound from Lost. A leafy plant is dramatically staged against a blue, velvet curtain. This scene, heavily choreographed, makes me think of the work as a dance. Instead of bodies defining space, Moth evinces how architecture frames spatial experience, and how the lines between architecture and sculpture are in fact blurry. If we can see dance as living sculpture, bodies presenting and configuring themselves to display the beauty of the human form, monumental architecture can be seen as a choreographer itself, in its mediation and shaping of bodily experience. The film-maker is also a choreographer, in mediating our perception of the architecture that patterns our movements.

Moth also interrogates the potential for art to be deceptive, showing how nature can sometimes elude our desire to capture, imitate, or perfect it through art. The hyperrealistic shots of the plants cast doubt upon whether these are real plants, or spurious replicas – the image appears so real that we suspect it might be false. Is this a documentary image of an augmented reality, or does its augmentation make it completely fake? Of course, our perception is filtered through the reflective medium of film; nothing we see is a first-hand image. The documentary approach with which Moth works focuses on geological features of the land, and their resistance to her desire to confirm the existence of the real, to categorize and typify them, also shows how the natural world elides both our archival and artistic impulses. The faithlessness of art to produce an image of the real is an age-old question that Moth reopens with fresh eyes.

Moth also interrogates the potential for art to be deceptive, showing how nature can sometimes elude our desire to capture, imitate, or perfect it through art.

The minimalist language of the film makes it a pleasure to watch, as viewers are entered into dialogue with the objects presented. However, unlike minimalist sculpture, it is not the viewer who is authoring their own experience of the work. Instead, the experience is mediated by the camera. This enables us to gain insight into the persona of the intermediary, calling to mind avant-garde films that emphasize the voyeuristic gaze of the person behind the lens. We learn about what Moth chooses to zoom into or pan away from, and what details they think are important or irrelevant.

I left the exhibition most curious about the attitudes of the person behind the camera. It was challenging to distinguish whether Moth was trying to convey indifference towards these empty spaces, or if the mood was more confrontational. Moth’s ambivalence urges the viewer to construct meaning for themselves. I consider how up until this point I have seen the author as the arbitrator between the viewer and work. Perhaps in opening up so many questions which can best be answered by looking at the decisions and indecisions of the camera, the work really functions more importantly as a dialogue between the viewer and author.

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The playful aspects of technology and its ability to facilitate new sensory experiences are rarely given attention in the contemporary artistic zeitgeist. The device art triennial at Montreal’s Eastern Bloc Gallery ran from May 5 to June 1, and exhibited an array of interactive innovative devices, recognizing their integral role in our daily lives. Beyond simply making our lives more efficient, these devices seeked to create new experiences.

Developments in biotechnology, manifested in the bio art movement of the 90s, and a focus on creating interactive experiences, were at the forefront of many of the artists’ initiatives. Some highlights of the exhibition included Robertina Sebjanic, Ida Hirsenfelder, and Ales Hieng-Zergon’s Chemobrionic Garden (Time Displacement), which explores the relationship between hydrothermal chemistry, time, and evolution; Martina Mezak’s Urania, a cloud making device; and Lightune. G’s unconventional lighting and sound system in Lighterature Reading.

Device art explores the interaction between humans and their devices in society, encouraging us to embrace technology not only as a tool on which to depend, but also as a producer of experience.

Davor Sancincenti’s sound installation, Ø, involved a polished Istrian olive tree stump which, when touched, activated sonorous or surreal sounds that came from behind the viewer. The consequences of the viewer’s actions, or the sounds generated through the interaction with the art object, were invisible to the eye but were deeply felt by the viewer. The creation of distant sounds through the close interaction with the art object convinced the viewer of the universal significance of their actions, making a statement on the far-reaching impacts of one’s actions on their environment. The use of technology to re-animate the tree stump shed a positive light on the prospect of human beings working with nature, rather than against it.

As most of the artists were of Eastern European and Japanese descent, specific regional artistic influences were spotted throughout the exhibit. For instance, the influence of 20th century Russian constructivism, which emphasized the practical qualities of art and aestheticized its process, was seen in many of the artists’ works, with their devices adopting an architectural quality. This influence as well as early Japanese forays in kinetic art was evident in Takeshi Oozu’s The Escaping Chair, which automatically moved away from the sitter when approached.

Subverting the common narrative that technology desensitizes us, the exhibit explored ways to look optimistically at the presence of technology in our daily lives and considered its potential to deepen sensory experience.

In The Escaping Chair, our perceived relationship with furniture was undermined as the dynamic between the willful sitter and passive object was reversed. Typically, we depend upon furniture for comfort, both physically and mentally, in their ability to mould themselves to our bodies. Oozu played upon this dependence on inanimate objects and our delusion of a shared intimacy. The body and furniture became intertwined, and this intimate yoking of body and object gave the artwork an erotic quality. Ultimately, the anthropomorphic piece of furniture encouraged us to think critically about the nature of technology. Oozu explained in a panel interview that the viewer became conscious of the chair possessing a “will.”

Device art explores the interaction between humans and their devices in society, encouraging us to embrace technology not only as a tool on which to depend, but also as a producer of experience. The aim of Sanvincenti’s interactive work was to use technology to facilitate sensory experience, and to do so in a way that is not a perversion of nature, but rather an improvement upon it. He did not want to impede the abilities that make us human, such as our sensory faculties, but to attune ourselves to them and exploit their potential, which he did by connecting sight with sound. Meanwhile, the animation of Oozu’s chair demonstrated how technology can be used to create life in places devoid of it.

In an era defined by the plurality of artistic visions and styles, the device art movement responds creatively to some of the most central concerns we face. Subverting the common narrative that technology desensitizes us, the exhibit explored ways to look optimistically at the presence of technology in our daily lives and considered its potential to deepen sensory experience.

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It is the face of Kim Kardashian on the cover of her book Selfish, a compilation of selfies taken by the celebrity from 2007 to 2015. It is easy to mock and dismiss Kardashian’s book as the embodiment of narcissism and vanity, but the content of Selfish may not be as vacuous as one might assume.

“Selfie,” a group exhibition of thirteen artists of Iranian descent on display at the Maison d’Édition Ketabe Iran Canada (MEKIC) gallery, explores the role of the selfie in modern life using a variety of different mediums to challenge the attitudes surrounding this modern phenomenon.

Local artist Nima Emrani connects ideas about representations of the self in technology with how the self is perceived in nature. Emrani’s drawing depicts a large fish swimming in a pond whose eyes reflect the artist’s face. The drawing is meta-referential and therefore a crucial part of its commentary exists in its own self-awareness. Emrani demonstrates a freeing of the self from the confines of technological scrutiny by asserting control over his depiction in the eye of the fish.

“I want to be liked. I want to be shared, I want to be tagged, and I want to be commented on. The selfie is a way of finding importance in the world, but anything done in extremes is unhealthy” Afshar said in an interview with The Daily.

Just as Emrani controls the way he is depicted and shown to society in his piece, the act of selfie-taking gives an individual control over their own exposure. However, this image may be distorted, just as the fish eye distorts the image of the artist in the drawing, or as a fisheye lens can distort the photographic image captured in a selfie. The creation of a selfie, then, is an empowering process. Emrani’s work aligns the practice of selfie-taking with self-portraiture to illustrate this point.

In contrast, Nazanin Afshar picks up on this theme of distortion and criticizes the transient feeling of empowerment that the selfie produces in its creator. Two identically sized paintings, originally selfies by the artist, are placed alongside each other. A third canvas is hung to the right of these two paintings. It is an image of the artist’s bloodshot eye, but a circular mirror is transposed onto the canvas where the pupil should be. Viewers are forced to see themselves and confront the flaws in their naked image. The viewer is thus rendered powerless before the complete honesty of their own reflection, which stands in stark contrast with the two contrived images of the artist. Afshar approaches the selfie as an unsustainable tool for the expression of self-love by pointing to how it breaks down in the real world where flaws cannot be hidden.

“I want to be liked. I want to be shared, I want to be tagged, and I want to be commented on. The selfie is a way of finding importance in the world, but anything done in extremes is unhealthy,” Afshar said in an interview with The Daily.

Afshar’s piece speaks to the incapacitating effect of the selfie as the feeling of importance gained from taking selfies comes at an expense of defamiliarization with unfiltered depictions of the self.

On the whole, however, the artists featured in the exhibition seem to sympathize with the motivations that underlie the modern selfie. For many, the selfie serves as a storytelling device.

Artist Ronak Kordestani, for example, took photographs of herself for twenty-four days. At the end of this process, Kordestani used mixed media to etch out hidden emotions that were less obvious in the original photographs. “The appearing and disappearing patterns added to the image, projected my day-to-day emotions in a self-observatory process,” Kordestani told The Daily. In this sense, the artist’s self-reflection dictated the creation of the piece. The chronological layout of the selfies and the visually highlighted emotions Kordestani reveals help her to convey a narrative to the viewer.

“Selfie” creates a grey area between self-reflection and self-obsession, forcing viewers to re-evaluate how easily society dismisses the act. As explored by the artists, the symbolic potential of this modern mode of self-portraiture goes far beyond vanity and narcissism.

Inspired by the arguments made at “Selfie,” is it now possible to regard Kardashian’s Selfish as the manifesto of a movement to reinvent the modern self-portrait, and Kim as being at the helm of a shifting artistic narrative?

“Selfie” is on display in the MEKIC Gallery at 4438 rue de la Roche until July 14th.

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