Sull'arte contemporanea

by César Aira

Questo breve testo di uno degli autori chiave della narrativa ispano-americana contemporanea si focalizza su alcuni dei suoi temi prediletti: il processo creativo e il rapporto fra arte visiva e letteratura. César Aira lo scrive dalla prospettiva dello scrittore che cerca nell’arte ispirazione, stimoli, metodi. Grande conoscitore dei meccanismi intrinseci dell’arte contemporanea fin da quando, nel 1967, una riproduzione del Grande vetro di Duchamp esercitò su di lui un sortilegio impossibile da ignorare, Aira ha sempre trovato nelle derive della produzione artistica contemporanea una fonte inesauribile di visioni.
Il suo sguardo esterno al mondo dell’arte risulta fresco e originale, come quando elogia le potenzialità della distanza fra opera e osservatore, o quando ci fa notare l’ostinata volontà delle opere contemporanee di non lasciarsi fotografare, arrivando a constatare come oggi, rispetto alle epoche passate, l’opera d’arte è tanto più attuale quanto meno è riproducibile fotograficamente.

Genres: Art, Nonfiction, Essays

63 pages, Kindle Edition

Published May 5, 2022

About the author

César 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.

Reviews

[Jim Elkins]

When 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.

[Jatan]

Can literature provide a mechanism to understand art? Or as Aira puts it, is it a legitimate form of art's extended reproduction?

[nathan · Rating 3 out of 5]

“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.

[Tom · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[Bert Hirsch · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Cherise Wolas · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Oscar Jelley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Enjoyable and wittily translated - worth the 99p I spent on it.

[Lauren · Rating 2 out of 5]

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.

[Melle · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Drew · Rating 5 out of 5]

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.

[J Murnaghan · Rating 3 out of 5]

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.

[Jocelyne Junker · Rating 3 out of 5]

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.

[Frank Karioris · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Caleb · Rating 4 out of 5]

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.

[Mark Surya]

not 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.

[David Macpherson · Rating 2 out of 5]

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.

[Dan Foy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cesar Aira will always be first and foremost the author of Art Forum for me. This is perfect supplement.

[Alex]

On Contemporary Art is a meandering observation on such things as:

[D · Rating 1 out of 5]

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.