I am typically one who shies away from meaning. I am more interested in use and value. What might we do with dance, for example, or how might we begin to revalue devalued objects and methodologies? Meaning, as Avital Ronell has pointed out, has “historically and intellectually very often had fascist and non-progressivist edges, if not a core.” Meaning is a preventative measure that keeps difference from gaining mobility, from entering into dominant culture. It for that reason that I find value in the usefulness of things, it is through an understanding of use that we might better grasp how to counter various forms of power, to develop tactics and strategies of resistance.
“I tell you, old weapons go rotten: make some new ones and shoot accurately.“ – D.H. Lawrence.
I am typically one who shies away from discussing meaning, I say typically because it is in this moment that I am motivated, after reading an article by another Bad at Sports contributor on ASCO, Kitsch, and The Foreigner, to discuss the meaning of terms like “Kitsch” and “Foreigner”. To discuss how the use of these terms, along with the meanings ascribed to them, perpetuate misrepresentation and misunderstandings of the unique legacies of those being labeled as “Kitsch” or “Foreign”.
The Los Angeles based art collective, ASCO, have been the subject of numerous exhibitions and publications. They have emerged and reemerged several times over, as museums and curators, become more and less interested in the experience and expression of the Chicano movement and the art it created. ASCO, which translates into English as nausea, operates in multiple mediums but are perhaps best known for their performance and film works which have an activist tendency.
ASCO formed in 1972 at time in which the Chicano movement in the southwest began to gain traction. Chicano, while a somewhat contested term, is used here to described those “born from the blood of the Spanish sword and the Indian temple.” It is a term used to describe politicized Mexican-Americans, who, while born on American soil, are attempting to reclaim a lost indigenous heritage. I point this out to remind us of the complexity of citizenship.
For those of non-white heritages the price of assimilation, even if the encounter between indigenous population and colonizer is no longer conscious in the minds of formerly free subjects, was no less than entire histories of colonized civilizations. While it is true that some empires opted to incorporate the beliefs of the colonized, more often than not, the role of the colonizer was to eradicate these histories through the use of fear, language, brutality, and the introduction of ownership and property. For some Mexican-Americans, particularly those in the southwest, the relationship between country of origin and chosen (or not) country of occupation is complicated by the redrawing of borders that occurred following civil and national wars. Texas for example was under Mexican rule until independence, at which time it became a sovereign nation, until of course it is made a part of The United States of America. How are we to describe the generations who lived through this transition? Mexicans? Texans? Americans? It’s also important to keep in mind is that freedom, independence and statehood is won only for landowners and the ruling elite. It wouldn’t be until the Chicano movement, when there is a shift in consciousness among America’s Hispanic population, that greater political mobility would be attempted by farm workers and urban dwellers living below the poverty line.
What does it mean then to label these Americans, many of whom are several generations into citizenship, as “Foreigners”? And what might one mean by “Foreigner”? If given the benefit of the doubt, one would have to suspect, as ridiculous as it may be, that the “Foreigner” would designate an other outside of one’s own country. That is a person who, after having developed up to a certain point abroad in some expansive global void, has found their way onto one’s Country of origin, whatever that might mean. Of course one could also consider the “The Foreigner” as a position from which one chooses to operate. This might be used to express some deep feeling of otherness rooted within an individual’s psyche. A feeling of not belonging, of being outside. A feeling that might motivate individuals to look towards an eradicated heritage as a place from which to become empowered. We could consider this a strategy of self-making. My point here is that in any scenario, imagined or unimagined, “Foreigner” means not from here. Here being the place of the main subject, the one speaking, the one in an ultimate position of power. It is a designation of otherness that indicates one’s place as not belonging. This is an internalized reality. One that is difficult to escape from. Even if one were to use the term with good intentions in an attempt to illuminate some greater understanding of how typical Americans understand particular histories through Art, to label some Americans as foreign because they have a different heritage and speak a language other than English, is to perpetuate an understanding of American citizenship that excludes not only non-whites, but anyone who has a legacy of speaking a language other than English.
The article I am writing in response to, is not only guilty of ostracizing and essentializing an entire social group, of which ASCO is a part, but manages to dehumanize them as well. It does this in an attempt to describe the way in which “U.S. Culture” looks to the “Foreigner” as a “Kitsch” figure. They are “thing-like.” Again, I am left to ponder what might be meant by such an accusation.
“Kitsch” tends to be used to describe the mass produced, market driven, empty object that in some conversations has historically represented the aesthetic of “low” culture. Putting aside the unproductive binary of “High” and “Low” for a moment, designations that do nothing but contribute to a cultural value system that has slowly been dismantled over the last 20 plus years of Art Historical and Cultural criticism. The use of the term “Kitsch” here is not attempting to subvert a traditional hierarchy but instead seems to imply that “Americans” still feel this way. To be more accurate, it seems to suggest that White Americans of a certain statue feel as though non-English speaking non-whites are “thing-like“. If this is true, it is a reality only because it has been written into being. “Kitsch” as a go to term to describe the work of a group like ASCO, while it may be attempting to speak to pervasive cultural opinions, does nothing but legitimize their work through a traditional hierarchical system of value. This is to say, that while they may be “thing-like”, we’ve been given the go ahead by the author to appreciate them as “things.”
The power of what we do as cultural critics and producers lies in our ability to make real our aspirations. Our power lies in our ability to simultaneously imagine and enact realities. This is the reason why, so many of us are drawn to the work of groups like ASCO, because they made real the nausea they felt in a time of war and social strife. The plight of the Chicano movement is not some isolated “Foreign” experiment. It is a social movement against violence, oppression, and unnecessary death, during a time in which other American collectives were also publicly struggling for their livelihood.
“But these forms of persistence and resistance still take place within the shadow-life of the public, occasionally breaking out and contesting those schemes by which they are devalued by asserting their collective value. So, yes, the ungrievable gather sometimes in public insurgencies of grief, which is why in so many countries it is difficult to distinguish the funeral from the demonstration. “ – Judith Butler
To banalize them, to other them, is to render them powerless, to prevent their history from becoming American history. It is to prevent their struggle from being incorporated into the democratic pursuit. The struggle of the Chicano movement means too much to let that happen.
We just had our first Bad at Sports blog meeting a few nights ago and aside from the fact that I got WAY TOO MUCH PIZZA (and have been eating pizza pretty much every day, twice a day ever since) we had a great conversation. A conversation that, among other things, prompted this new column — my WEEK IN REVIEW.
So, now that we all know our former president can paint, I’d like to appoint him as a new advocate for arts funding. Bush’s return to the humanities may be as good an indicator as any, that art might serve a valuable purpose — if only to ease the heart and mind from a deluge of ghosts and existential crises. (Someone pointed out that, as both self portraits — hacked out of his email account earlier this week — involve bathing, there might be some psychological message at work. Personally I get a kick out of seeing the dude’s bare feet.)
First of all — ORANGE, SIBLINGS, & CHAINS are IN. Even if you can’t play guitar, you can still go ELECTRIC, because e-cigarettes also made the T list. And they’re healthy (?).
Otherwise, this week on Bad at Sports has been very much ABOUT THE BODY lately — abstract painting was compared to human waste; dance and movement was discussed as a mode for learning — which led to a great meditation, later on in Romero’s same post, about the way we organize space. As he puts it, “Space as it exists conceptually promotes an occupation of itself by a certain kind of body. A body that is best represented by the athletic body.” Countertops, door frames and tables are built to certain standardized, ideal bodies. There is a post about other bodies, specifically foreigners and the kitsch of foreign identity as it is present in the 70s Chicano Arts Collective, ASCO. Goransson ties that kitsch to nausea: “In Julia Kristeva’s famous definition of ‘abjecting’ as vomiting out the abject in order to maintain the self. ‘The abject’ is that which troubles boundaries.” In a later post by Friel, Tarantino was called out for “giving history a wedgie” in Django Unchained. In anticipation of Valentine’s Day, Daniel Orendorff reflects on internet hookups, and the attraction of sadness. Indulge me as I repost one of Orendorff’s Friday passages:
All of this is to say that isolation and promiscuity may be natural bedfellows. In his 1999 essay “Sex and Isolation,” ex-hustler and American chronicler of all things sexually subterranean, Bruce Benderson, laments the migration of cruising or chance encounter off the streets and onto the internet, saying; “The abandonment of the body is isolation, the triumph of pure fantasy.” Yet, fantasy wants to be recognized, and we depend on others for that. Dating or hooking up online is never really about getting to know someone, it’s about the desire to be known. Furthermore, it’s about the desire to be known as the person we’re writing and editing and framing and Photoshopping and staging for others; about the fantasy we believe ourselves to be and depend on others to corroborate. For Benderson, wary of how American entrepreneurialism and the Protestant ethic (myth?) of self-reliance has led to the shrinking of the public sphere and the routinization of social encounters, the internet represents some vague final stage; “Our minds spit our longings and obscenities into the atmosphere. And media have ensured that these ejaculations are everywhere. The self is now nowhere in particular, and, depending upon how you look at it, we have everywhere, or nowhere, to go.”
Lastly, Terri Griffith points out, the Chicago Filmmakers upcoming screening of Wonder Women: The Untold Story of American Superheroines (2012). A documentary that uses the superheroine Wonder Woman to address “media representations of strong women and what these representations mean to our society as a whole.” See? A whole lot of BODY convos.
There was a whole lot of Midwest love with dispatches from the Kansas City Bureau (“KANSAS CITY INSIDE OUT”) that involved the work of a couple artists re-thinking architectural spaces (I feel like Vorhees work might present a kind of non-normative space)
and St. Louis’ “Identity Crisis: Fort Gondo Compound for the Arts,” that captures a great non-commercial, idiosyncratic art space that’s been around for 10 years. It once took advantage of abandoned buildings on the block for art happenings and is now transitioning into a new stage of professionalism and sustainability.
In other news, I finally painted my toes after a three-month hiatus.
And memes can now be embodied principles: the HARLEM SHAKE has stormed the internet. Perhaps the movement, literally, offers additional insight into what can be learned from dance.
An exhibit showcasing the Chicano arts collective ASCO, which was active in Los Angeles throughout most of the 1970s and 80s, is currently touring the North American continent. Unfortunately, it won’t be coming to Indiana any time soon, so I have had to make due with the thick catalog from the show, “Asco: Elite of the Obscure.” Fortunately it’s a beautiful book. Asco’s artwork ties into a lot of my ongoing pet concerns – kitsch, the foreigner, the “as if” artwork – in dynamic and interesting ways, so I thought I would share some thoughts on this arts movement. But most importantly, the images are utterly beautiful and hilarious. I can’t help myself: I’m fascinated, I keep thinking about these images, this movement, which may seem very far removed from my own life in Indiana, but yet seems very relevant to me.
The name “ASCO” is itself interesting. To begin with, like the famous forbearer “Dada,” it is a foreign word (it’s Spanish, meaning nausea) that is both strange and catchy. It “works” in English as a kind of brand name (I’m gonna get som Asco at the corner store? Have you gotten the latest Asco yet?), but the Spanish adds a layer of obscurity, of a sense of something hidden. This combination of the kitschy and the hidden is in many ways emblematic of a foreigner aesthetic. I’m using the word “foreigner” to conveniently include here both actual immigrants and ethnic minorities. I know there’s a difference but there’s also a similarity: a presence that troubles the dream of homogeneity.
In U.S. culture – whether “high” or “low” – the foreigner is often a figure of kitsch: s/he is a fake version of the real thing (“the American”), lacking the interiority of the American Subject. That is, the foreigner is thing-like. S/he has no soul. In this regard foreigners are a lot like Art. Everything we touch becomes art.
Ethnic or minority or immigrant cultures are often very conservative in trying to avoid this kitsch label, insisting on a kind of authenticity of their culture. America often finds that very attractive as well: “the old world” of authenticity as opposed to the modern America. This is another form of kitsch, “authenticity kitsch.”
[Some Swedish kitsch...]
A while back I got in a heated discussion with a Latino poet who claimed the Latina writer Sandy Florian was not a Latina writer because she did not “write about the Latina experience.” Her writing was too “experimental” – ie it called attention to itself as artifice, rather than (as his own poetry) seeking to document the stuff of the Latin “experience” (whether food, customs, family traditions). In other words, art gets in the way to this “documenting.” Authenticity becomes a conservative aesthetic. Ethnicity becomes an aesthetic. Paradoxically, all things aesthetic are of course artifice.
In this insistence on art that “documents” the “real thing,” this conservative aesthetic reminds me quite a bit of the discussions in “Performance Art” where it seems to me (I admit it, I’m not an expert in this field) important that the real art is the performance, not the “documentation.” Sometimes I’ve come across these spats in performance art discussions where people get accused of turning the “documentation” into the artwork.
For example, Joseph Beuys was often accused of this. And that definitely seems true. My favorite work by Beuys is his long-running series of photographs “Arena: Where would I have got if I had been intelligent,” which consists of photographs of art objects, regular objects and performances by Beuys. Except, the divisions are immediately blurred. The montage of photographs of artistic relics/souvenirs from the performances renders any object he might put in the show into a relic; the montage sets up an equal sign of sorts; it tells us: these are photographs of relics. Everything is a relic, a souvenir. The art cannot be contained.
Likewise, it’s not clear if all the pictures of Beuys himself are from actual performances, or if any picture with him is a performance, if his life is a performance. The “cut” between photographs are too far apart to be “sutured” together into a montage. Art has redefined itself, redefined “life,” There is no longer an “outside.” There’s an atmosphere that leaks out surrounding everything, turning everything into Art.
Conducted at the same roughly the same time, the ASCO artworks play with a similar dynamic in their “No Films,” which consist of fake film stills from non-existent movies, starring “bario stars,” an ethnic version of the “superstars” of Jack Smith (whose film stills from the 1960s is probably the most direct predecessor of ASCO’s work) and Andy Warhol. This connection suggests another important connection: that between the foreigner and the homosexual, between the immigrant and the queer.
As modernist poet and constant immigrant (from Russia to Finland and later Lithuania) Henry Parland put it in his diary: “I am always a foreigner, no matter where I go.” To be a foreigner is to be a kind of drag version of the native, the foreigner introduces Art into every dimension of life. Some people – such as the Latino poet who could not find the “Latina experience” in Sandy Florian’s work – would try to deny that the reified ‘immigrant experience’ is itself kitsch, made up of costumes, objects, food, customs, a recognizable cast of characters, etc. Others, such as ASCO, would use it to produce their Art.
What strikes me in these would-be B-movie promotional stills is the use of cheap trinkets, the kitsch: disco-aliens with platform boots attack a bum with a huge fake axe, a woman is taped to a wall, a dolls is burning. These trinkets and human figures are posed around very mundane parts of Los Angeles; but their make-up, their trinkets both call attention to the mundane Los Angeles and turn it into something ridiculously glamorous, a kind of kitsch glamour. In this way it seems to opposite of the Hollywood idea of Los Angeles: The ultra-rich heart of spectacle culture that can create every exotic locale within its studios. Here the shitty glamour brings the “studio” out into Los Angeles, which finally becomes visible… as Art.
The other thing is that this shitty glamour is actually circuited to ethnicity. You can see this connection very explicitly if you look at some of ASCO’s artwork – such as “Stations of the Cross,” where they dressed up in Day-of-the-Dead-inspired garbs and carried a cross to the draft station used to sign up Chicanos for the Vietnam War. Once you’ve become aware of the political and ethnic dimensions of that protest, you can see the connection between the kitsch and the ethnic-inspired matter in the No Movies.
Let me return to the name ASCO, the name with its dual meaning of kitsch-brand and foreign, obscure word. Who was afflicted by this “nausea”? When asked in 1983 where the name came from, Gronk (one of the members) said:
“That was generally the reaction to a lot of the work that we were doing, when we first started doing work, is people would say, refer to our work as giving them, “Uuhllhh!” asco. So we said, “That’s a nice title,” so we applied it to ourselves. A lot of the stuff early on was like real bloody and used a lot of different things, like dead birds and bones, and anything we could get our hands on. So the reaction by the community, or by different people that would see the work, was that it was giving them nausea. We liked the word.”
So in this definition, their artwork is named after the reception, after the effect their art has on people. But this is not the only explanation the group has given for its name. As C.Ondine Chavoya and Rita Gonzalez point out in their article “Asco and the Politics of Revulsion,” another member, Harry Gamboa noted very early on: “Last year at this time I was very active in the affairs of my community. I was deeply bothered and disgusted with the condition of my community and the Mexican American people. I learned to distrust and dislike everything that was pro-establishment.” Along the same line, Gronk also said “a lot of our friends were coming back in body bags and were dying, and we were seeing a whole generation come back that weren’t alive anymore. And in a sense that gave us nausea… that is Asco, in a way.” The group also stated that they were “attracted and appalled by the glitter and gangrene of urban reality.”
What I love about all these definitions – seemingly seeping out of a very basic yet foreign word – is the contradictions: the nausea is a negative response to the artwork which is a negative response to the political realities and or the kitschy “glitter,” which may be a disease in itself. In Julia Kristeva’s famous definition of “abjecting” as vomiting out the abject in order to maintain the self. “The abject” is that which troubles boundaries. And here the nausea is both in the viewer and the artist, both inside the artists and outside of them. The glitter, the kitsch is the disease is both a source of fascination and nausea. Asco doesn’t expel the kitsch, they harbor it, they are fascinated by it; this fascination doesn’t heal, it seems to permeate.
Like the element of the un-sutured montage, the nauseating atmosphere of Asco’s work permeates the city of Los Angeles, blurring boundaries between inside and outside, fantasy and reality, Los Angeles and “Los Angeles.” Perhaps the most strikingly political aspect of this aesthetic can be seen in the stunning photograph “Decoy”. The group sent this picture of an apparently dead man in the middle of a street in Los Angeles to newspapers and news shows as evidence of another Chicano riot gone awry, and these news-outlets promptly broadcast it as evidence.
And this is where I feel like a lot of my concerns in this essay come together: the anxiety about proper documentation is totally undermined by the very beautiful fake documentation, the ethnic “document” becomes the imaginary trace of violence, the nausea pervades everything – from the disenfranchised Chicano artists to the corporate news shows. Glitter and gangrene, glitter and gangrene….