Some notes on the rearrangement of the Collections of the MNCARS
View of the collection. Nouvel building. Courtesy: MNCARS.
A museum’s collection is its central axis, and it is the significance of its acquisitions that defines whether or not it is relevant. It is not the only thing that matters, however, particularly when the institution in question is not only a museum, but also an art centre. This is the case of the MNCARS, an institution which is also the main contemporary art museum in Spain, and which therefore must fulfil a leading role in revitalising the artistic climate.
Few of this institution’s directors have received as much support from the art world as Manuel Borja-Villel, mainly as a result of his appointment following a public competition, whose results –we must say– surprised no one, as he was the candidate with the most points in favour right from the start. This was thanks to his résumé as director, first, of the Fundación Tàpies and, second, of the MACBA; while the first was not a particularly complex institution, the second, when he arrived, was not exactly a piece of cake, and he demonstrated his judiciousness and resilience, managing to straighten out the Barcelona museum and place it on the international art map. Both of these qualities were essential if he wanted to save the MNCARS from the lethargy in which it had been submerged for almost fifteen years. All of the above, although known by all, is relevant as background to the great curiosity and sense of expectation regarding Borja-Villel’s position with respect to this interpretation of the collection of the MNCARS, as well as to see the acquisitions he has made since he was first appointed as director of the institution, just over a year and a half ago.
It is interesting how, regardless of the many journalistic comments and a couple of extreme positions –absolute praise on the one hand and demolishing analysis on the other, by Ángela Molina and José Luis Brea, respectively–, hardly any critics have taken the plunge and spoken about the work carried out by B-V. I do not think it is necessary to clarify that neither of the positions mentioned above are, in my opinion, accurate with regards to what this rearrangement offers.
The sensation which dominates the end of the journey is the difference in the development of the chapters, of which the first two are presented in the Sabatini building and the last two at the new space, by Nouvel. While the first, which spans the time between the 19th century and the 1930s, offers a stimulating journey which culminates with the Guernica, and, for the first time, presents art production within the social and political context of the time, revealing the implications of the Civil War –without which it is difficult to understand the development of the 20th century–, as well as describing the intellectual climate of the Republic, and, for example, highlighting the importance of the Institución Libre de Enseñanza. These interpretations have been a long time coming, and I believe that the criticism of the selection for its excess of photography and documentary material (magazines, books, letters and audiovisual production) does not hold up, as this has been one of the B-V’s best moves. In the same way, I disagree with those who claim that the way these materials have been presented lends them the status of artworks, as suggested Brea, who seems to deny the capacity for interpretation of the museum’s visitors.
The second chapter, which begins after the 2nd World War, lacks important pieces on an international level, which, although it is an irreparable problem, has been compensated for with the perfect arrangement of the pieces from the museum’s collection (the strongest points are the rooms devoted to Oteiza, Fontana and the magnificent pieces by Miró). It is interesting to observe the return to neorealist trends, and the special attention paid to Equipo 57.
As the show progresses, things become less clear. The third chapter suffers a number of structure problems: it starts off with Duchamp’s bronze pieces, in what is a sort of declaration of intentions which are never fulfilled. I think that the presence of the Brazilian artists Shendel, Pape and Lygia Clark, as well as the German-Venezuelan artist Gego is never sufficiently explained, although it is undeniable that they are extremely important artists. In addition to these new additions, we find the work of Antoni Llena, Barbadillo, Asins and Soledad Sevilla, who emphasises the importance of the activities generated around the Centro de Cálculo. In the meantime, the film pieces by Acconci, Paik and Kubota, along with those by Cage and Vostell and the Fluxus and Zaj cabinets, reflect some of the radical transformations and artistic trends from the 1970s.
However, in my opinion, the problems become most noticeable in chapter four. Here, the most important contributions are those by Nauman, Kelly and Richter, but they lose intensity as a result of a truly dubious room arrangement. It is equally difficult to understand the absence of some of the most important works belonging to the MNCARS. One of the spaces which is most disquieting is the one where Hernández Pijuan, Gordillo and Barceló have been brought together, as if it were possible for such different discourses to coexist naturally. And, while we are talking about this room, why is it lacking a piece by Sicilia, or by García Sevilla, whose work was much more significant in the 1980s, outside Catalonia, than that of Pijuan? There are still a few shocks to be experienced before the journey through the exhibition is over. I am referring to the room containing pieces by Uslé, Badiola, Irazu and Euba, and to the no less surprising space displaying the work by Farocki, Pedro G. Romero, Spero, Creischer and Patatuc. We can at least enjoy the excellent piece by Mike Kelley, on display, alone, just before the end of this disheartening last stretch.
Where is there, for example, an analysis of the repercussion of gender studies, of the relevance of identify debates and of the presence of the body, shown in radically different ways, in the art production from the early 1970s and onward? There are some allusions to this, yes, but they are so vague...
What I am questioning here, in a fundamental way, is the element of urgency which has been applied to the last few decades, as there had been no time to think about the best way to structure a specific discourse, so that the viewer is left to imagine the intentions behind the work from that time. If this is what has happened here, why has the show not been reduced to the first few chapters, allowing its curators to offer the last two in the best possible conditions? Why is the journey through the exhibition so lacking in rigorous introductory texts, which could have supplied viewers with the tools needed to navigate the museum on their own? Why is the show’s brochure so offensively simplistic? I do not think that these demands would have underestimated visitors’ competence, but that, instead, they highlight the lack of tools made available to spectators, which, to my view, hinder the experience of what is shown, especially in the last two chapters.
It is not enough to speak about a rhizome structure made out of micro-narratives, as this is essential to avoid supporting the linear, ethnocentric and patriarchal interpretations which have defined hegemonic discourses until two or three decades ago, and whose influence continues to pervade our field. Yes, new directions are hinted at, but not developed.
Neither is it useful, at least now, to explain that temporary exhibitions contribute to offering deeper analyses of discursive elements regarding the collection. Let us look at, for example, the current exhibition, the unfortunately titled Los Esquizos de Madrid. Figuración madrileña de los 70 [Madrid Schizos. Figuration in Madrid in the 70s]. This show was organised by the previous director, Ana Martínez de Aguilar, and its curator, Quico Rivas, passed away when the project was in mid-production. These two facts turned the show into a “hot potato” for the current director. It is paradoxical therefore that none of the artists present in the Los Esquizos appear in the current collection (it is impossible to understand why Gordillo enjoys such a meagre presence in the collection); the visitor travels through the show without really understanding the relationship between this large group of artists and the permanent collection, and, more importantly, he cannot perceive the relevance of these artists in the recent history of Spanish art. Therefore, the show sees its meaning magnified, offering an insufficient reflection of what was really happening during a time, the Spanish Transition, which urgently requires some new interpretations. And, continuing with this period, it is worth pointing out that conceptual art did not only exist in Catalonia and that there were other names in this field apart from Nacho Criado and Alberto Corazón.
The reason why I pay special attention to issues regarding the art produced in Spain is because the analysis of what has taken place in the last four decades deserves to be carefully and rigorously re-examined, in terms both of what was said to be happened and what actually happened. It is possible that B-V will carry out this necessary task, given that he has emphasised the fact that this show will be followed by subsequent rearrangements of the museum’s collection, which is essential to prevent the institution from stagnating. In addition, the collection will continue to expand. It is true that Borja-Villel has impressed a great sense of vitality to the MNCARS, but, in his determination to generate a “historic model”, as he himself has pointed out, which he hopes to be innovative and much more complex than that offered up to now, this first edition of the collection was extremely important.
(A summary of some of the opinions reflected here can be read in issue 23 of ARTECONTEXTO; however, this blog is a particularly appropriate setting to discuss these issues.)
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