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On Contemporary Art
Translated into English for the first time, On Contemporary Art, a speech by the renowned novelist César Aira, was delivered at a 2010 colloquium in Madrid dedicated to bridging the gap between writing and the visual arts. On Aira’s dizzying and dazzling path, everything comes under question—from reproducibility of artworks to the value of the written word itself. In the end, Aira leaves us stranded on the bridge between writing and art that he set out to construct in the first place, flailing as we try to make sense of where we stand. Aira’s On Contemporary Art exemplifies what the ekphrasis series is dedicated to doing—exploring the space in which words give meaning to objects, and objects shape our words.
Like the great writers Walter Benjamin and Hermann Broch before him, Aira operates in the space between fiction and essay writing, art and analysis. Pursuing questions about reproducibility, art making, and limits of language, Aira’s unique voice adds new insights to the essential conversations that continue to inform our understanding of art.
Like the great writers Walter Benjamin and Hermann Broch before him, Aira operates in the space between fiction and essay writing, art and analysis. Pursuing questions about reproducibility, art making, and limits of language, Aira’s unique voice adds new insights to the essential conversations that continue to inform our understanding of art.
- GenresArtNonfictionEssays
72 pages, Paperback
Published November 20, 2018
About the author
César Aira
269 books1,178 followersCésar Aira was born in Coronel Pringles, Argentina in 1949, and has lived in Buenos Aires since 1967. He taught at the University of Buenos Aires (about Copi and Rimbaud) and at the University of Rosario (Constructivism and Mallarmé), and has translated and edited books from France, England, Italy, Brazil, Spain, Mexico, and Venezuela. Perhaps one of the most prolific writers in Argentina, and certainly one of the most talked about in Latin America, Aira has published more than eighty books to date in Argentina, Mexico, Colombia, Venezuela, Chile, and Spain, which have been translated for France, Great Britain, Italy, Brazil, Portugal, Greece, Austria, Romania, Russia, and now the United States. One novel, La prueba, has been made into a feature film, and How I Became a Nun was chosen as one of Argentina’s ten best books. Besides essays and novels Aira writes regularly for the Spanish newspaper El País. In 1996 he received a Guggenheim scholarship, in 2002 he was short listed for the Rómulo Gallegos prize, and has been shortlisted for the Man Booker International Prize.
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February 3, 2026I've recently discovered 'ekphrasis' serias by David Zwinger Books. Their choice of material perfectly suit my sensibilities and widen my horizons (a cliche not to be avoided:-)).
This one is a good example. Also it goes to my other shelf 'coffee with a book' as it can be read in one sitting with a cup. I am a big fan of Aira's novels and his 'method' of writing them. He call the method 'fuga hacia adelante' (flight forward - rapid composition without revision). The essay in this book expands a bit on his philosophy of art and its application to his view of the wider tendencies.
This is an old problem but the cycle of reproduction has shrunken dramatically with digital technologies and rapid communications. So to remain a step ahead one needs to be properly creative and i guess use the technology to his benefit or try to be totally off grid, so no 'reproduction' can be complete. I guess that explains why many artists use themselves as a subject in different ways. Every human is still unique (for now), so cannot be reproduced mechanically. But I am sure there are a lot of other ways to create an original art as well. Fortunately, mental space of ideas is infinite.
This is the perspective of an art creator. But on the other hand, it seems that many art consumers are really happy with ‘craft’ level. Probably, it’s always was the case that majority of the commercially successful artists earned from craft. Van Gogh infamously died penniless while in his days many affluent people paid a lot for their portraits to less original but commercially successful artists. The technology and marketing have only amplified these tendencies. A modern writer is obliged to go on ‘a tour’, publisize his work through social media, beg for blurbs from his colleagues and (horror!) to network (whatever this means). I am not sure how creative and innovative one could be if he spends his time doing that in order to ‘monetise’ his work (the latter previously known as earning a living). It seems to logically follow that to be a creator of ‘new values’ an artist (in Aira’s sense) should not be preoccupied with earning money and preferably - with the needs and the taste of his potential audience (or its possible lack there of).
In his other essay The new writing, which was published in White Review a few. years ago, Aira was dealing more closely with ‘diminishing returns on originality’ for the artists. The alternative, according to him is avant-garde:
A few examples of this, apart from his own way of writing, are automatic drawing developed by the Surrealists; 'excess of consciousness’ by Gertrude Stein; or, in music, the work with chance by John Cage, who has also famously created 4′33″ piece experimenting with silence.
Aira believed that this way would liberate the artist and democratise art. Indeed, one does not need to learn to draw and painstakingly polish his craft if one can snatch a ‘ready-made’ urinal and present it in an exhibition hall. However, humour aside, this is a well established trend by now, the one among the other few. And indeed it is quite empowering as an idea and practice:
I guess Aira’s own work could be considered as ‘a kind of documentary appendix to his process’. He also referred to his work as a ‘footnote to Borges’. But in his case, his work is much more than a footnote. I’ve read a few of his novels. I would agree that not much unite them apart from their freshness and spontaneity probably resulting from his process. But each of them has had an idea or a set of ideas; or a situation at its core. So each novel manages to avoid the risk of total randomness that could result from such a process.
I find very powerful and philosophically non-trivial this idea of a work as ‘a footnote’ or as a tangible evidence of something not so tangible (maybe even metaphysical). I’ve had a marvellous experience recently reading a text by Cornell's The Ways of Paradise consisting of a set of notes to a missing manuscript. It might be fit perfectly to Aira’s conceptual framework. Cornell in his turn mentioned the land-art by Robert Smithson with its concept of ‘non-site’ as material vestiges of unreachable ‘site’, a metaphorical ‘footnote’ in a very physical sense.
Aira specifically mentions how his approach might be liberating for the poets:
Can one liberate oneself from his talent? Likely it is not very different from liberating oneself from being a person. Sontag has written somewhere: I discovered that I am tired of being a person. Not just tired of being the person I was, but any person at all. I am sure a talented person often ‘tired’ and a talent might feel like a burden as well. But i am not sure there is a possible liberation from this condition. Only the absence of a talent could be helpful i guess.
Having said that I certainly can see how having a ‘method’ could help even with poetry. The technology, including AI, democratises this area further. I’ve recently discovered how auto-translation helped me to appreciate poetry in a language i did not know at all. I’ve used it alongside the published translation and found that in certain cases the auto-translation was much more revealing to me; helped me to understand the original poem better. It is a matter for a separate conversation. What is relevant here that including technology in the process may significantly ‘liberate’ the producers and, more counter-intuitively, may occasionally enhance the experience of the consumers of art.
Additionally, I am happy to be wrong but it seems that originality matters for a minority of the readers (or the consumers of other art forms). Many want just new, well crafted, relatable stories or portraits of their pets. It does not matter that much how originally they are told. The production of this stuff could be easily enhanced with AI. The consumers would still be happy in 95% of cases as they would not be able to tell the difference (or the difference would not even matter for them). This leaves just around 5% who would require the originality of course. So i am not sure how would it play out economically. Ideally the original art would be rewarded with some premium on the market. But sadly it is usually wise versa when the market gets involved.
Another interesting tendency is more people nowadays want to be writers than readers. There is a whole industry when different establishments charge money in different form for teaching how to write: MFAs are everywhere, newer and cheaper alternative is available through internet. Substack is a platform for more established writers to pass the craft and earn a buck in the process. One example, George Saunders rans a Story Club which is £5 per month. He has got more than 300K subscribers (one can do the maths).
I asked an AI ‘What is good about Story Club?’. Here is the answer:
(The punctuation is preserved).
I have quiet mixed feelings about this “anti-internet’ place on internet. One thing is to sell a book. I’ve paid for his book and even reviewed it on this site. But if it is a club should it be for free? Of course one could argue that it democratises the whole thing widening the access to MFAs. But I cannot see how it increases the chances of literary innovation. It seems, this leads to more of the sameness of the output and the industrial scale of it. When some aspirational people spend £5 per month to write better short stories, many more would be fenced out by the charge. At the same time, the community of potential readers for all this writing is shrinking due to decline of simple literacy. Saunders is just an example of a trend. (He was just recently in the news with his new book. So it has come to my attention.)
The related question is of so called ‘gate-keepers of a taste’, the critics, the gallerists, curators, publishers, etc. Are their role increases due to sheer supply and fragmentation of tastes? Or alternatively they are redundant due to ability of the consumers interact with the producers through the platforms and algorithms (ie Saunders’s case). Respectively, how independent they can be and how their ‘labour’ is supposed to be compensated.
The economic and social effects of all the changes at the moment in this sphere is difficult to contemplate. I even struggle to make sense whether there is anything new in this process of change. Through the times, the artists were always to some extent dependent on charity, other jobs, patrons, inheritance, luck, etc.
Coming back to Aira, i only can hope that his vision is credible for all who is involved in the act of art creation: ‘Then it won’t be necessary to be wretched, or to suffer, or to be enslaved to a labour which society appreciates less and less.’ In any case, i will keep reading his admirable novels.
This one is a good example. Also it goes to my other shelf 'coffee with a book' as it can be read in one sitting with a cup. I am a big fan of Aira's novels and his 'method' of writing them. He call the method 'fuga hacia adelante' (flight forward - rapid composition without revision). The essay in this book expands a bit on his philosophy of art and its application to his view of the wider tendencies.
The work of contemporary art flees from technical reproduction to the extent that this advances and improves. A work becomes a work of art today to the extent that it remains one step ahead of the possibilities of its reproduction...A work positions itself no reproduction could portray it fully.
This is an old problem but the cycle of reproduction has shrunken dramatically with digital technologies and rapid communications. So to remain a step ahead one needs to be properly creative and i guess use the technology to his benefit or try to be totally off grid, so no 'reproduction' can be complete. I guess that explains why many artists use themselves as a subject in different ways. Every human is still unique (for now), so cannot be reproduced mechanically. But I am sure there are a lot of other ways to create an original art as well. Fortunately, mental space of ideas is infinite.
If it is art it should create new values; it doesn’t need to be good, on the contrary: if it can be called good that means it’s obeying to ready fixed parameters of quality, and so can be placed according to the category of craft.
This is the perspective of an art creator. But on the other hand, it seems that many art consumers are really happy with ‘craft’ level. Probably, it’s always was the case that majority of the commercially successful artists earned from craft. Van Gogh infamously died penniless while in his days many affluent people paid a lot for their portraits to less original but commercially successful artists. The technology and marketing have only amplified these tendencies. A modern writer is obliged to go on ‘a tour’, publisize his work through social media, beg for blurbs from his colleagues and (horror!) to network (whatever this means). I am not sure how creative and innovative one could be if he spends his time doing that in order to ‘monetise’ his work (the latter previously known as earning a living). It seems to logically follow that to be a creator of ‘new values’ an artist (in Aira’s sense) should not be preoccupied with earning money and preferably - with the needs and the taste of his potential audience (or its possible lack there of).
In his other essay The new writing, which was published in White Review a few. years ago, Aira was dealing more closely with ‘diminishing returns on originality’ for the artists. The alternative, according to him is avant-garde:
Luckily, there is a third alternative: the avant-garde, which, as I see it, is an attempt to recuperate the amateur gesture, and to place it on a higher level of historical synthesis. In other words, it implies immersing oneself in a field which is already autonomous and considered valid by society, and inventing new practices within that field to restore to art the ease with which it was once produced.
Constructivism, automatic writing, the ready-made, dodecaphonism, cut-ups, chance, indeterminacy: the great artists of the twentieth century are not those who created works, but those who created procedures through which works could be made alone, or indeed, not made.
A few examples of this, apart from his own way of writing, are automatic drawing developed by the Surrealists; 'excess of consciousness’ by Gertrude Stein; or, in music, the work with chance by John Cage, who has also famously created 4′33″ piece experimenting with silence.
Aira believed that this way would liberate the artist and democratise art. Indeed, one does not need to learn to draw and painstakingly polish his craft if one can snatch a ‘ready-made’ urinal and present it in an exhibition hall. However, humour aside, this is a well established trend by now, the one among the other few. And indeed it is quite empowering as an idea and practice:
This achievement also has other implications: that art can be made by all, that it can be liberated from psychological restrictions, and most of all, that what we think of as the ‘work’ can be the method by which the work is made, rather than the actual work itself, the work acting as a kind of documentary appendix which serves only as a means of deducing the process from which it arose.
I guess Aira’s own work could be considered as ‘a kind of documentary appendix to his process’. He also referred to his work as a ‘footnote to Borges’. But in his case, his work is much more than a footnote. I’ve read a few of his novels. I would agree that not much unite them apart from their freshness and spontaneity probably resulting from his process. But each of them has had an idea or a set of ideas; or a situation at its core. So each novel manages to avoid the risk of total randomness that could result from such a process.
I find very powerful and philosophically non-trivial this idea of a work as ‘a footnote’ or as a tangible evidence of something not so tangible (maybe even metaphysical). I’ve had a marvellous experience recently reading a text by Cornell's The Ways of Paradise consisting of a set of notes to a missing manuscript. It might be fit perfectly to Aira’s conceptual framework. Cornell in his turn mentioned the land-art by Robert Smithson with its concept of ‘non-site’ as material vestiges of unreachable ‘site’, a metaphorical ‘footnote’ in a very physical sense.
Aira specifically mentions how his approach might be liberating for the poets:
when poetry is something that everyone can do, the poet will be able to be a man like any other, and will be liberated from all that psychological misery we call talent, style, mission, work, and other forms of torture. Then it won’t be necessary to be wretched, or to suffer, or to be enslaved to a labour which society appreciates less and less.
Can one liberate oneself from his talent? Likely it is not very different from liberating oneself from being a person. Sontag has written somewhere: I discovered that I am tired of being a person. Not just tired of being the person I was, but any person at all. I am sure a talented person often ‘tired’ and a talent might feel like a burden as well. But i am not sure there is a possible liberation from this condition. Only the absence of a talent could be helpful i guess.
Having said that I certainly can see how having a ‘method’ could help even with poetry. The technology, including AI, democratises this area further. I’ve recently discovered how auto-translation helped me to appreciate poetry in a language i did not know at all. I’ve used it alongside the published translation and found that in certain cases the auto-translation was much more revealing to me; helped me to understand the original poem better. It is a matter for a separate conversation. What is relevant here that including technology in the process may significantly ‘liberate’ the producers and, more counter-intuitively, may occasionally enhance the experience of the consumers of art.
Additionally, I am happy to be wrong but it seems that originality matters for a minority of the readers (or the consumers of other art forms). Many want just new, well crafted, relatable stories or portraits of their pets. It does not matter that much how originally they are told. The production of this stuff could be easily enhanced with AI. The consumers would still be happy in 95% of cases as they would not be able to tell the difference (or the difference would not even matter for them). This leaves just around 5% who would require the originality of course. So i am not sure how would it play out economically. Ideally the original art would be rewarded with some premium on the market. But sadly it is usually wise versa when the market gets involved.
Another interesting tendency is more people nowadays want to be writers than readers. There is a whole industry when different establishments charge money in different form for teaching how to write: MFAs are everywhere, newer and cheaper alternative is available through internet. Substack is a platform for more established writers to pass the craft and earn a buck in the process. One example, George Saunders rans a Story Club which is £5 per month. He has got more than 300K subscribers (one can do the maths).
I asked an AI ‘What is good about Story Club?’. Here is the answer:
Story Club on Substack is highly regarded as a nurturing, intellectually stimulating, and supportive community for writers and readers, often described as an online alternative to an MFA cohort or a cozy,, constructive, and kind, and "anti-internet" space. It serves as a continuation of his acclaimed craft book, A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, providing in-depth analysis of short stories, writing advice, and a space to discuss how to live a more conscious life through art.
(The punctuation is preserved).
I have quiet mixed feelings about this “anti-internet’ place on internet. One thing is to sell a book. I’ve paid for his book and even reviewed it on this site. But if it is a club should it be for free? Of course one could argue that it democratises the whole thing widening the access to MFAs. But I cannot see how it increases the chances of literary innovation. It seems, this leads to more of the sameness of the output and the industrial scale of it. When some aspirational people spend £5 per month to write better short stories, many more would be fenced out by the charge. At the same time, the community of potential readers for all this writing is shrinking due to decline of simple literacy. Saunders is just an example of a trend. (He was just recently in the news with his new book. So it has come to my attention.)
The related question is of so called ‘gate-keepers of a taste’, the critics, the gallerists, curators, publishers, etc. Are their role increases due to sheer supply and fragmentation of tastes? Or alternatively they are redundant due to ability of the consumers interact with the producers through the platforms and algorithms (ie Saunders’s case). Respectively, how independent they can be and how their ‘labour’ is supposed to be compensated.
The economic and social effects of all the changes at the moment in this sphere is difficult to contemplate. I even struggle to make sense whether there is anything new in this process of change. Through the times, the artists were always to some extent dependent on charity, other jobs, patrons, inheritance, luck, etc.
Coming back to Aira, i only can hope that his vision is credible for all who is involved in the act of art creation: ‘Then it won’t be necessary to be wretched, or to suffer, or to be enslaved to a labour which society appreciates less and less.’ In any case, i will keep reading his admirable novels.
Read
November 18, 2018When Novelists Write Bad Art Criticism
I would have loved to read a book on contemporary art by Cesar Aira that had all the qualities of his fiction: I was looking forward to something stubbornly irrational, perverse, collaged, quirky, inexplicable. And I normally wouldn't criticize a novelist for not being informed about some matter of fact: that seldom matters, in fiction or in imaginative writing in general. But this book is simply misinformed. Badly informed.
It opens in a promising way: Aira says "the spell of Duchamp" ruined his ambitions to be "a poet, am essayist," to win the Nobel Prize, and "to be Arthur Rimbaud" if time permitted. Duchamp supposedly turned him away from books and toward a career of writing "the footnotes." (pp. 14-15)
But then the essay turns earnest and expository. He claims good art "flees" from reproduction, and that "Artforum" and other publications are visually vacant because of it. This is simply too simple. Artists have wanted many things other than fleeing reproducibility, and "Artforum" has other reasons to be visually vacant. (pp. 16-21)
There's a wonderful section, or chapter, on Poussin's custom of making wax models of the figures in his paintings. "The painted picture at the end," Aira says, "is merely the visible testament to the mad solitary machine" that includes the diorama he built, the wax he modeled, the little figures he handled. (p. 24) That's true, and it's contemporary art criticism.
But that's it in terms of interesting or original observations. Aira re-invents wheels over and over in the course of the essay. The opening pages on reproducibility get Krauss wrong. After he quotes Mario Praz, of all people, on Poussin, he mentions Mraz along with Daniel Arasse! (p. 25) And then, a couple of pages later, Arthur Danto along with Krauss! I know why this happens; I can imagine his reading, and what's been translated and taught in Spanish. Danto in particular has become a source for postmodernism around the world. It's also telling of a Latin American perspective that he pairs Duchamp and Dali--that couldn't be done in writing on contemporary art in North America or Europe. (pp. 41-42)
There isn't anything wrong with making odd couples of scholars or artists, except that it betrays light reading and doesn't invite people who have read more. There isn't a reading of postmodernism in which Krauss and Danto simply belong together.
Most of the short essay (it's only 35 pages in English) is speculation on all sorts of things that have been well covered in the scholarship: reproducibility, the phenomenon of "isms," contemporaneity. I would have loved it if Aira had said more about how, exactly, Duchamp ruined him and made him spend his career writing "footnotes." Or if he'd interpolated any of the hundreds of autobiographical details from his other books. Or if he'd said something quirky or unexpected or at least new.
This essay will unfortunately have an effect on my reading of his books in future. I know, now, what kind of education he has in modernism and postmodernism, and what counts for him as innovative. If this little essay had been stranger I would have been more interested in what the next "footnote" might look like.
I would have loved to read a book on contemporary art by Cesar Aira that had all the qualities of his fiction: I was looking forward to something stubbornly irrational, perverse, collaged, quirky, inexplicable. And I normally wouldn't criticize a novelist for not being informed about some matter of fact: that seldom matters, in fiction or in imaginative writing in general. But this book is simply misinformed. Badly informed.
It opens in a promising way: Aira says "the spell of Duchamp" ruined his ambitions to be "a poet, am essayist," to win the Nobel Prize, and "to be Arthur Rimbaud" if time permitted. Duchamp supposedly turned him away from books and toward a career of writing "the footnotes." (pp. 14-15)
But then the essay turns earnest and expository. He claims good art "flees" from reproduction, and that "Artforum" and other publications are visually vacant because of it. This is simply too simple. Artists have wanted many things other than fleeing reproducibility, and "Artforum" has other reasons to be visually vacant. (pp. 16-21)
There's a wonderful section, or chapter, on Poussin's custom of making wax models of the figures in his paintings. "The painted picture at the end," Aira says, "is merely the visible testament to the mad solitary machine" that includes the diorama he built, the wax he modeled, the little figures he handled. (p. 24) That's true, and it's contemporary art criticism.
But that's it in terms of interesting or original observations. Aira re-invents wheels over and over in the course of the essay. The opening pages on reproducibility get Krauss wrong. After he quotes Mario Praz, of all people, on Poussin, he mentions Mraz along with Daniel Arasse! (p. 25) And then, a couple of pages later, Arthur Danto along with Krauss! I know why this happens; I can imagine his reading, and what's been translated and taught in Spanish. Danto in particular has become a source for postmodernism around the world. It's also telling of a Latin American perspective that he pairs Duchamp and Dali--that couldn't be done in writing on contemporary art in North America or Europe. (pp. 41-42)
There isn't anything wrong with making odd couples of scholars or artists, except that it betrays light reading and doesn't invite people who have read more. There isn't a reading of postmodernism in which Krauss and Danto simply belong together.
Most of the short essay (it's only 35 pages in English) is speculation on all sorts of things that have been well covered in the scholarship: reproducibility, the phenomenon of "isms," contemporaneity. I would have loved it if Aira had said more about how, exactly, Duchamp ruined him and made him spend his career writing "footnotes." Or if he'd interpolated any of the hundreds of autobiographical details from his other books. Or if he'd said something quirky or unexpected or at least new.
This essay will unfortunately have an effect on my reading of his books in future. I know, now, what kind of education he has in modernism and postmodernism, and what counts for him as innovative. If this little essay had been stranger I would have been more interested in what the next "footnote" might look like.
Read
June 3, 2019Can literature provide a mechanism to understand art? Or as Aira puts it, is it a legitimate form of art's extended reproduction?
December 1, 2025
“𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬. ‘𝘈 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥; 𝘎𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥. 𝘈 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦: 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦. 𝘜𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘵: 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵.”
Aira states that modern art exists in the is and of through everything before it. If originality truly is dead, then is our present tense a pretense to a dream? Unmade? Ready-to-be-made? Merely a for-your-consideration before accepted actualization?
Aira not only sees modern art as such, but also curation. Either the shows aren’t good in Buenos Aires, but a lot of interesting art is happening in Beijing/Shanghai and New York. The art world and art market is a lot different now then it was in 2017, when this was written. I want to say 2017 was a very boring time for art. Everything interesting has happened after.
“𝘈 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘉𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 (𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵).”
Is this what it means to live in the present tense? Has everything I felt before just a mockery what was once felt first? I often think back to first times. The first time I was sad. The first time I felt guilt. The first time I raged. The first time I loved. Felt it. Owned it. And those first times too. Was the first time I felt love different than the first time I owned love? This goes for everything.
And so is this all dress rehearsal for the season finale? Is my death a tally of all the things I’ve accumulated and reproduced? What was my original form? My original thought? What history came before my conception?
Art then does not live or breathe. It is plastic. Made for the masses. Created for capitalism. What does Aira then think of Gen Z and their art? Their prospects?
In the end, this feels very boomerish and disappointing coming from a genius still in the height of his craft with over 100 books under his belt. He’s still constantly creating in the midst of other creations, some doing incredible work, even in literary fiction. I think Aira needs to return to these arguments for art today as there’s a lot to see, some stuff worth seeing that holds emotive pulses and transgressions unfound even in the art that came before it.
Aira states that modern art exists in the is and of through everything before it. If originality truly is dead, then is our present tense a pretense to a dream? Unmade? Ready-to-be-made? Merely a for-your-consideration before accepted actualization?
Aira not only sees modern art as such, but also curation. Either the shows aren’t good in Buenos Aires, but a lot of interesting art is happening in Beijing/Shanghai and New York. The art world and art market is a lot different now then it was in 2017, when this was written. I want to say 2017 was a very boring time for art. Everything interesting has happened after.
“𝘈 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘉𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 (𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵).”
Is this what it means to live in the present tense? Has everything I felt before just a mockery what was once felt first? I often think back to first times. The first time I was sad. The first time I felt guilt. The first time I raged. The first time I loved. Felt it. Owned it. And those first times too. Was the first time I felt love different than the first time I owned love? This goes for everything.
And so is this all dress rehearsal for the season finale? Is my death a tally of all the things I’ve accumulated and reproduced? What was my original form? My original thought? What history came before my conception?
Art then does not live or breathe. It is plastic. Made for the masses. Created for capitalism. What does Aira then think of Gen Z and their art? Their prospects?
In the end, this feels very boomerish and disappointing coming from a genius still in the height of his craft with over 100 books under his belt. He’s still constantly creating in the midst of other creations, some doing incredible work, even in literary fiction. I think Aira needs to return to these arguments for art today as there’s a lot to see, some stuff worth seeing that holds emotive pulses and transgressions unfound even in the art that came before it.
November 11, 2018
For about a third of Aira's essay, I thought, "Is he kidding?" And I came to realize, yes, he is kidding with these statements on contemporary art (the straw dogs are predictable (and comic); yet his alternatives to the straw dogs often also sound absurd). And he says some things that are serious and true about art. His sees Duchamp's influence on art as so profound as to sharply reduce its history to two periods: "classicism" (i.e., everything before Duchamp) and Contemporary Art (Aira's caps) (i.e., Duchamp and everything after). . . So, a Duchampian document: funny, engaging, irritating, idiotic, and smart at the same time.
May 2, 2024
An intellectual and erudite essay about, well, contemporary art, and the notion of time, among other things. Not one of his magical fictions so if a reader is just beginning to dive into Aira, I wouldn’t start with this one.
September 23, 2021
An extended essay by the Argentine experimental novelist Cesar Aira, a lifelong subscriber of the Artforum magazine. Published by the David Zwirner gallery this pamphlet explores the origins of art movements from the Impressionists to present day Contemporary Art. As Contemporary Art flourished, Aira observes that it is now a free-for-all; "there are no more Picassos, no more anguish about influences."
He claims that Contemporary Art began with Duchamp who played with common day objects presenting them in the context of creative art; "he was the origin myth...the first mover, the one who blazes the entire path."
He also illustrates how Magritte, in an act of mocking humor exhibited images that exaggerated those he was best known for. This was known as his "vache" period that promoted the Surrealists view of reality.
Aira views Contemporary Art as being on a different plane from the literary arts. The amount of value/money placed on the art and its reproductions is beyond the scale any piece of literature could ever attain. He interestingly describes Kafka as literature's example of a mythical originator on the same level as Duchamp or Picasso.
This short piece will be appreciated by those with an interest in Contemporary Art.
He claims that Contemporary Art began with Duchamp who played with common day objects presenting them in the context of creative art; "he was the origin myth...the first mover, the one who blazes the entire path."
He also illustrates how Magritte, in an act of mocking humor exhibited images that exaggerated those he was best known for. This was known as his "vache" period that promoted the Surrealists view of reality.
Aira views Contemporary Art as being on a different plane from the literary arts. The amount of value/money placed on the art and its reproductions is beyond the scale any piece of literature could ever attain. He interestingly describes Kafka as literature's example of a mythical originator on the same level as Duchamp or Picasso.
This short piece will be appreciated by those with an interest in Contemporary Art.
December 14, 2025
Enjoyable and wittily translated - worth the 99p I spent on it.
April 14, 2020
Two questions I ask myself when reading nonfiction: would a book appeal to an audience wider than the converted, and would it make anyone reassess their opinions on a subject. If the answer to either is no, the book loses some of its value to me. It’s easy to preach to the choir.
Does On Contemporary Art seem like a book that would make someone reassess a dislike of contemporary art? Nope. If anything, this book would reaffirm why people dislike contemporary art and the precocious attempts at explaining it.
I’ve come to appreciate contemporary art as I’ve learned more about the art world. Aira’s text, however, only made me remember everything I dislike about contemporary art, from the tendency to speak in roundabout manners in an effort to seem intellectual to empty justifications that don’t make sense.
The first miss of the ekphrasis series. Not recommended.
Does On Contemporary Art seem like a book that would make someone reassess a dislike of contemporary art? Nope. If anything, this book would reaffirm why people dislike contemporary art and the precocious attempts at explaining it.
I’ve come to appreciate contemporary art as I’ve learned more about the art world. Aira’s text, however, only made me remember everything I dislike about contemporary art, from the tendency to speak in roundabout manners in an effort to seem intellectual to empty justifications that don’t make sense.
The first miss of the ekphrasis series. Not recommended.
September 30, 2019
In this lightheartedly written - or translated - book, César Aira makes good arguments about the origins and current position of contemporary art. I'm way too tired to actually give an argument as to why I think this, though.
November 10, 2018
A tremendous essay, with the kinds of insights you'd expect from someone as form-breaking and intelligent as Aira. Bonus, it's got a lovely intro from Will Chancellor and a short-story-afterword from Alex Kleeman that puts a beautiful button on the whole experience. It's great to have brilliant friends, and even better when you get to read them frequently.
March 21, 2019
Easy to follow Aira's train of thought in this translation, but it is a bit short on novel ideas (unlike the man). Introduces the figure of the "Enemy of Contemporary Art," which is helpful for describing Contemporary Art via its shortcomings. Discussion of Magritte's first exhibition in Paris (1948) is thought-provoking. Includes a very funny sentence on Juan Gris.
September 2, 2019
I thought it was good, but for how much it’s be referenced in other art related texts it was kind of a let down. Didn’t necessarily love the aggrandizement of Marcel Duchamp but at the same time it’s really hard to not respect duchamp if you’re interested in art and have a sense of humour. Conflicting, which is good, but not conflicting enough to think about it often.
January 3, 2019
A fascinating, yet short, meditation on the "contemporary" of contemporary art, and how this contemporaity positions our understanding of the works that follow from it. With a great comment on Dali and Duchamp, the book flies by while seeming to be a great living room conversation.
May 8, 2026
My favourite quotes;
- “The Contemporary Artist continues to move forward, taking one step after another, and employs her ingenuity and inventiveness to endow her work with one aspect, one side, one point, that remains hidden, even from the most novel and exhaustive technique of reproduction.” P. 19
- “Contemporary Art, by wanting to be contemporary, has nullified time by compressing it into the present, and it must be everywhere at once.” P. 26
- “[…] art could have continued to function without names as it had for cen-turies. However, the big art auction houses needed a name to put on the products they had for sale and on the covers of their catalogues [….]” P. 29
- “[…] Contemporary Art. A perfectly absurd name, not descriptive, or provocative, or geographic, and astonishingly neutral, almost a parody.” P. 30
- “In discussions fostered by the Enemy of Contemporary Art, the argument is usually propped up by imaginary examples created by his aggressive fantasy, such as
"Nobody is going to convince me that hanging condoms full of shit from the ceiling is art." P. 35
- “work of art today doesn't hold up without the discourse wrapped around it and justifying it.It does not "speak for itself" but rather requires seasoned ventriloquists, usually critics or curators.” P. 40
- “The Contemporary Artist continues to move forward, taking one step after another, and employs her ingenuity and inventiveness to endow her work with one aspect, one side, one point, that remains hidden, even from the most novel and exhaustive technique of reproduction.” P. 19
- “Contemporary Art, by wanting to be contemporary, has nullified time by compressing it into the present, and it must be everywhere at once.” P. 26
- “[…] art could have continued to function without names as it had for cen-turies. However, the big art auction houses needed a name to put on the products they had for sale and on the covers of their catalogues [….]” P. 29
- “[…] Contemporary Art. A perfectly absurd name, not descriptive, or provocative, or geographic, and astonishingly neutral, almost a parody.” P. 30
- “In discussions fostered by the Enemy of Contemporary Art, the argument is usually propped up by imaginary examples created by his aggressive fantasy, such as
"Nobody is going to convince me that hanging condoms full of shit from the ceiling is art." P. 35
- “work of art today doesn't hold up without the discourse wrapped around it and justifying it.It does not "speak for itself" but rather requires seasoned ventriloquists, usually critics or curators.” P. 40
May 10, 2020
Meandering, glib and sarcastic On Contemporary Art is a Aria's reflection on the features and circumstances that make Contemporary Art. There is strength behind his writing and a humour and wit that isn't disparaging towards the topic.
Aria doesn't seek to offer a critique of Contemporary Art or certain practices, instead holding a conversation about the situation in which we encounter it today. This is where much of the meandering comes in as he writes about the various ways art can be encountered (in person, magazines, photography), the art world eco system, and the more recent historical moments in art history that Contemporary Art rubs against. The tone is inviting and conversational which makes for a pleasant short read even if parts are difficult to digest.
Even if nothing really comes together to form a strong conclusion or position On Contemporary Art is a wonderfully exploratory text. Aria offer up plenty of ideas and points that are ripe for discussion. There is an impulse toward conversation expertly woven in the writing which makes for fertile ground for enriching conversations to come.
Aria doesn't seek to offer a critique of Contemporary Art or certain practices, instead holding a conversation about the situation in which we encounter it today. This is where much of the meandering comes in as he writes about the various ways art can be encountered (in person, magazines, photography), the art world eco system, and the more recent historical moments in art history that Contemporary Art rubs against. The tone is inviting and conversational which makes for a pleasant short read even if parts are difficult to digest.
Even if nothing really comes together to form a strong conclusion or position On Contemporary Art is a wonderfully exploratory text. Aria offer up plenty of ideas and points that are ripe for discussion. There is an impulse toward conversation expertly woven in the writing which makes for fertile ground for enriching conversations to come.
Read
May 31, 2021not at all what I expected from Aira, though I'm a good enough reader of him to not be able to pin down what exactly my expectation was. In the end I think I value this tiny thing more as a kind of manifesto, or at the very least for it's reflections on literature (do we not now, in our fandom age, finally have a generic "Contemporary Literature" who people rail against?). Makes me want to reread his beautiful stories in The Musical Brain, which had much to say on the possibilities opened in art that will undeniably read differently to me now.
May 18, 2026
I initially tried to read this as a definition or history of Contemporary Art, a text that can only be either true or false with respect to some objective reality and struggled to ‘believe’ in some parts that to me seemed based on an assumption that art is something that has evolved by design (as opposed to a more natural evolution by efforts of different individuals, influenced by each others’ work and affected by their conditions, what can be achieved technically, who will accept this piece for an exhibition, etc).
A second read, taking it more as an interpretation, a collection of open ideas that offer ways how to think about Contemporary Art, was more enjoyable.
A second read, taking it more as an interpretation, a collection of open ideas that offer ways how to think about Contemporary Art, was more enjoyable.
February 14, 2021
I love the work of Aira. He is one of the most exciting writers I have come across. Reading this lecture about contemporary art was a slog. It was closed and uninviting. The afterward by Alexandra Kleeman was a story/essay about waiting in line all day to see a new work of art. This had more insight then all I got from Aira.
May 31, 2025
Cesar Aira will always be first and foremost the author of Art Forum for me. This is perfect supplement.
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September 16, 2025On Contemporary Art is a meandering observation on such things as:
September 3, 2020
Following the thread of his essay is difficult. The idea of avoiding replication as a drive behind contemporary art was interesting but didn't increase my interest in contemporary art.
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