- CL's Selected Readings, No. 79.
- Echoes in Exile;
- First Q&A: Whales and Dolphins.
- The French Bookshop :: Litterature Generale :: Inde & Pakistan.
- Inde & Pakistan.
Kliman, Bernice W. Knott, David. Letterproeven van Nederlandse gieterijen. Specimens compiled by Johan de Zoete. Amsterdam: De Graaf, Lerner, Frederick Andrew. New York: Continuum, Love, Harold. Lutz, Cora E. Yale U. Library Gazette , Occasional Supplement 2. Foreword by Stephen Parks. Paris: Cercle de la librairie, Essays in Memory of Robin Rider. Lampeter: Founders' Library, St. David's College, University of Wales, Trivium , Vols. Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century , May, James E.
Dublin: Archbishop Marsh's Library, McCorison, Marcus A. McKitterick, David. L'Edition rouennaise et ses marches vers - vers : Dynamisme provincial et centralisme parisien. Merlotti , A. La lettura negata delle opere di Giannone nel Piemonte sabaudo Meyer, Horst comp. Bibliographie der Buch- und Bibliotheksgeschichte. Horst Meyer, The Murrays of Murray Hill.
Mulvihill, Maureen E. Myers, Robin. Antiquaries, Book Collectors, and the Circles of Learning. Publishing Pathways. Medicine, Mortality, and the Book Trade. Stationers' Company and the Book Trade Winchester, Hampshire, University K. The Encyclopedia of Biography. New York: St. O'Brien, Padraig. Pallone, Nathaniel J. Library Gazette , Occasional Supplement 3. With a Chronological Index compiled by Carolyn Nelson.
Pitcher on periodicals. Foreword by Arthur Sherbo Elihu H. Facts and Fictions: Discoveries in Periodicals Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen, Purcell , Mark. Raymond, Joad. London and Portland, OR: F. Cass, Reed , Joseph W. Reese, William S. Reynaud and C. Lyon: Presses universitaires de Lyon, Rohrer, James R. Richmond: Curzon, Translated by Malcolm Green. Columbia: University of South Carolina, The Cathedral Libraries Catalogue.
Part 2: L-Z. Compiled with the assistance of Margaret S. James, Lawrence Le R. Dethan, et al. London: British Library and the Bibliographical Society, Shell, Alison. Solheim, Helene. Suarez, Michael F. Printed: Literature and Artifacts. La biblioteca publica: Storia di un istituto nell'Europa contemporanea. Bologna: Il Mulino Saggi, , A Bibliography of Canadian Imprints, Naples: Vivarium, Preface by G. Thomas Tanselle. Bibliotheken in der literarischen Darstellung: Libraries in Literature. Stuttgart: Hauswedell, Warkentin, Germaine. Weimerskirch, Philip J.
Wenzel, Sarah G. West, Anthony James. Introduction by Michelle Brown. Willison, Ian. The emergence of historical bibliography as a discipline: the case of the British Library. Early German-American Imprints. Lang New German-American Studies, 17 , Oxford University Press, Lamonde, Yvan. Malcolm ed. The Kenneth Nebenzahl, Jr.. Myers, James P. Peltz, Lucy. Early Mapping of Southeast Asia. Periplus Editions, Variorum Collected Studies Series, , China : A Historical and Cultural Dictionary.
ISBN: cloth ; paper. Westview Press, La Chine vue par les Occidentaux. Slatkine, ISBN: X. Schnapp, A. Revue germanique internationale , 13, Scalvini, B. Soll, Jacob. Blake, N. Bramall, S. The Social Life of Information. Harvard Business School, Bruce, B. Darnton, Robert. New York Review of Books , 11 juin : Duncan, B. Kolb, D. Lankshear, C. Lelliott, A. Marshall, J. McKie, J. The Internet: An Ethnographic Approach. Oxford: Berg Publishers, Sandbothe, M. Standish, P. A Matter of Taste. Lehmann, Gilly.
Port and the Douro. Faber, ISBN -- and see review listed under Mayson. Amato, M. Riforme, monete, calcolo e intelletto da Muratori e Beccaria a Galiani. Arrow, Kenneth J. Paris: Presses universitaires de France coll. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, Ziegler, eds. Colander, David. Goodwin, "Comment: It's the Homogeneity, Stupid! Abbattista, G. Le origini settecentesche dell' Encyclopaedia Britannica Castagneto, P.
Sebastiani , S. Birtles, Sara. Britain as a military power, London: UCL Press, London: I. Tauris, Protestantism and national identity. Britain and Ireland c. Histoire de Londres. Traduction de Jean Robert. ISBN: 2 13 4. Foreword by Peter Somerville-Large. French, H. Manchester University Press, September Bern and New York: P. Lang Anglo-American Studies, 11 , A war of ideas: British attitudes to the wars against revolutionary France, Aldershot: Ashgate, McGowen , Randall. Russell , Gillian. Ohio University Press, Bois , Catherine.
Revue pluridisciplinaire du monde anglophone , 1, 1 New York: MLA, The Year's Work in English Studies. Mellen, British Women Writers and the Writing of History, Johns Hopkins University Press, November Gothic Readings: The First Wave Leicester University Press, ISBN: and cloth ; paper. O'Connor, Mary. ISBN: 0 3. Shuger, Debora. University of California Press, London: Routledge, Alter, "A Question of Beginnings" ; J.
Dix, Robin. A Celebration. Edmonton: Juvenilia Press, Peter Sabor et al. Delany, Paul. Goubert, Pierre. ISSN: Rivero, Albert J. Bentley, G. Justice, George. Spacks , Patricia Meyer. Fields , Polly S. Szilagyi, Stephen. Sabor , Peter. Spearing , Elizabeth. Syntax's dream: the Battle of the books. McKenzie, D. Furbank, P. Hammond, Paul. By Mr. Dryden; in the Person of my Lord Salisbury. Amory, Hugh. Breeze, Andrew. Thomas Gray.
Yale University Press, November Set I, vol. Alexander Pettit. Christine Blouch and Alexander Pettit. Alexander Pettit and Margo Collins. ISBN 3 vols. Ferrero, Bonnie. A Bibliography of the Works of Samuel Johnson, Bad behavior: Samuel Johnson and modern cultural authority. London: Associated University Presses, Fields, Polly S.
Milton, Authorship, and the Book Trade. Shawcross, John T. MacKenzie, Scott. Austin, Michael. Mellor , Anne K. Berkhout , Carl T. Sloane "]. Ellis, Frank H. Saslow, Edward L. George, David. Puel, Marc. ISBN [maintains a strong homoerotic metanarrative exists despite the heterosexual relationships at the narrative level of select novels; includes discussion of Tristram Shandy ]. Shaw , Jane. Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, Expanded 2nd ed. Guerra, L.
Rapporto dai confini d'Europa. The Merciful Women. Alberto Manguel. London: Doubleday, To the Hermitage. Picador, Paris: Flammarion, Vanier: l'Interligne, A Conspiracy of Paper: A Novel. Random House, ISBN: [see reviews and information and a pretty impressively high sales figure at Amazon. Paris: l'Arche, Traduction de Jean Baudrillard. Traduction de Jacques Legrand. ISBN: 2 84 2. Alimento, A. Aspetti e problemi di storia politica della Francia pre-rivoluzionaria.
ISBN: 2 13 7. De Conventu generali Latomorum. Reprint du texte de Blanquie, C. Histoire et mesure , 13, Histoire constitutionnelle de la France. Cassina, C. Cave, Christophe, et Denis Reynaud. Volpilhac-Auger and C. Histoire de Paris. New York and Paris: P.
Lang French Studies of the 18th and 19th Centuries, 1 , Di Rienzo, E. Paris: Fayard, The French Revolution Sourcebook. London: Arnold, Louis XVI and the comte de Vergennes: correspondence Histoire de France. Paris: Gallimard coll. Kavanagh, Thomas. Lettrage distribution, Luzzatto, S. La 'rigenerazione' degli ebrei nella Francia del Au tombeau des secrets.
Paris: Albin Michel coll. Minerbi, M. Minuti, R. Note sul Giappone di Montesquieu. Payen, Philippe. Avant-propos de Jean Imbert. ISBN: 2 13 6. ISBN: 2 13 X. Stanford University Press coll. Journalisme et religion. Textuel , 24 juin : Revue de l'U. Paris: Lettres modernes Minard, Texte , 12 : Berthiaume, Pierre, en collaboration avec Danielle Forget. Brown, Penny. SVEC , 5 ISBN: 0- 9. Buffat, Marc. Anecdotes, faits-divers, contes, nouvelles, Actes du colloque d'Exeter de Berne: Peter Lang coll. Sur les traces d'un inconnu. Damisch, Hubert. Traduction de Rosalind Krauss. Dionne, Ugo. Gailliard, Michel.
Goulbourne, Russell. Goulemot , Jean M.. Grassi, Marie-Claire. Lafarge, Catherine. Amsterdam et Atlanta: Rodopi, , pp. Laplace, Roselyne. Index Voyage autour de ma chambre. Mall, Laurence. Studi Francesi , janvier-avril : Masseau, Didier. Exils, Pasini, M. Phillips, Henry. Prion, Volume One: The Feminist Encyclopedia of French Literature. Westport, CT: Greenwood, Stanic , Milovan. Saint-Martin, Armelle. Schwarzbach, Bertram Eugene. Piva, F. Forme e significato. Paul et Virginie. Will be clean, not soiled or stained. Only 1 left! Used-like N : The book pretty much look like a new book.
In good condition with some wear on the covers. See photos. There will be no stains or markings on the book, the cover is clean and crisp, the book will look unread, the only marks there may be are slight bumping marks to the edges of the book where it may have been on a shelf previously. The story goes that Vera and Kolya were born attached at the hand, which explains the strange scar Vera has had on her hand all her life.
Publisher: Henle, G. Verlag ISBN Title: Fantasie op. Item will have a tamper resistant hologram attached for your protection. See picture s for more details on condition of item. Publisher: Scholastic Inc. ISBN Title: Sarai in the Spotlight! Item Condition: New. Title: Frans Lanting. Endless Quest Mountain of Mirrors French version. Tight spine binding. Le Jeu Des Batailles Fantastiques. All text is in French. I have a wide selection of hard-to-find books.
It has good binding, all pages are intact, and there are no markings or writing anywhere in the book. Science Fiction Books. Fantasy Books. French Textbooks. Atlas Paperbacks. French Fiction Books. French Paperback Fiction Books. Science Fiction Hardcover Books in French. Shop by Category. Buying format see all.
All Listings. Best Offer. Buy It Now. Instead, it is about extending the power of the questions that they raise. And although the thoroughly factual referents an accident, an injury, a collective tragedy that brought about the absence are all in varying degrees a matter of misfortune, the act of representing and thinking through it cannot be reduced to this, and is not engulfed in this sombre source.
This act also reverses the direction of the temporal and political arrow of the presence of absence. It shifts from melancholy inspired by what has been lost, to a call to what is to come, and to bring into existence, including through what has been there — suffering, brutality, History. The dead, but not death. But, together with the past, the dead, memory and suffering, it is possible to go forward, to make a start. Through and beyond what is missing, what we miss, that is what Reflecting Memory invites us to do.
KA: Probably The Dream Machine , which was a vending machine that contained various products branded with a halal logo that I designed. In France at that time, young migrants from Muslim backgrounds were looking for a way to embrace consumerism, but through this sort of Islamic filter. But at the end of the s the teenagers from the part of the society that I come from — the French suburbs that were home to a large migrant population from North Africa and Southern Africa — were looking for a narrative that would speak to them and that they could feel a part of, rather than the official national narrative promoted in schools and the media.
They were very important writers, but I discovered later that there were also tremendous French writers from the former colonies who were not taught in the schools in France, even though in some areas the majority of children are from African countries. I wanted to take this a step further and explore this eagerness to create your own consumer universe, so I created the Halal clothing brand.
It was crazy. KA: No, nothing was for sale — it was a political statement. I did register the name, however, and later I received many offers from companies to buy it — but I never sold it. That was the idea of the project — it was a sort of a cynical action to get a response from journalists. This was in — so that tells you that the current rhetoric about radicalisation and Islam is nothing new.
RR: Before the Halal project you were mainly taking photographs. Did you start out taking pictures in and around the neighbourhood where you grew up?
KA: Yes, I was always taking pictures there. I grew up in a neighbourhood of concrete buildings — but behind these towers there was a huge area of forest and a farm. I remember how much time I spent there when I was a kid, looking at the landscape, drawing it. It was just a small piece of land, but in this very rough, poor, concrete place, it probably helped to create my desire for dreaming.
I used to run alone in that forest, and I think my teenage years were made bearable because of the presence of nature. KA: I think my first photographs were of architecture, taken in Mexico when I was travelling. When you photograph people — whether the person is posing for you or not — there are so many things going on: your curiosity for other cultures, other generations, other types of people; you are also trying to understand how they think.
When I was back in Paris after more than two years travelling, it happened that I was crossing the street one very sunny afternoon and I heard behind me, in the middle of this crowd in the street, two men talking like women in Arabic. I turned around and discovered the two men were dressed as women, wearing skirts and stilettos.
They were just so free and brave that I decided to follow them. KA: At that time — this was — Algeria was in the middle of a civil war between the Islamists and the army. And to be someone who looked different could mean death. Many of the transgender people that I met were in Paris to escape from the risk of being killed in Algeria. So that was how it came about that I started to photograph this group of transgender immigrants — completely by chance, but also through curiosity.
I think this notion of curiosity is very important in my practice, because I really like to share not only my experiences but also a non-objectified view of people who are unknown to the mainstream. When I was working on these photographs over a two-year period, my aim was to show the viewer something they had no idea about. RR: Were they comfortable with you taking pictures of them?
I can imagine that if you are an illegal immigrant and working as a transgender prostitute, you are probably worried about getting the wrong kind of attention. KA: I think it was more difficult for me at first to gain their confidence because I was Algerian, and they were all worried I would send images to their families.
It took about six months of building up trust before I could make the first pictures. I started out by trying to assist them with their legal efforts to stay in France, because they were all illegal immigrants. You can imagine the danger they faced: if they were arrested by the police and sent back to Algeria dressed as women, they might have been murdered on arrival. These Algerian transgender people are very strong. Few of them have pimps. They also have different ways to enjoy life — one of them is to have a nice big party for their birthday, but the birthday is like a ritual, either for presenting a new boyfriend or to entertain the audience with the love story that they are living with the boyfriend.
As we became friends, they asked me to become the photographer of their parties and fake weddings. I know how to do wedding photographs, of course, with a flash and a nice camera. And for me it was a way to illustrate the good moments in their lives, because I was also shooting scenes of prostitution and their difficult day-to-day existence.
I wanted to represent the whole picture of their lives, to show that even illegal migrants working as transgender prostitutes have moments of joy, of happiness. For me, this is about being respectful. When we represent minority communities like this one, we need to include images that do not show them as victims. RR: Many of your pictures portray very intimate scenes, and almost feel like they were taken by a member of the family.
How did you manage to create this sense of closeness with your subjects? And I really do think that this empathy is often expressed in my work. Some of them have very tough stories. Especially in Muslim societies, they are often the perfect scapegoat. So when I talk about making humanist photographs, it means creating pictures that convey a certain respect for someone and trying to do as much as I can to retain the dignity of that person.
RR: You took approximately 2, photographs over this period. How did you finally decide that the project was finished? KA: With a project like that you do not decide. It was very much a life project, and I do not think it is finished even today because their struggle is ongoing. Last January, I helped to organise a symposium on the relationship between prostitution and colonialism, and some Algerian transgender prostitutes came. RR: Did you identify with the way these illegal immigrants risked publically defying social norms to fashion their own identity?
KA: I completely identify myself as a rebel, and I think transgender people are rebels. For me, this rebel attitude is definitely what makes a man or a woman into a bigger person. If we do not resist society, we become its slaves. And what I have discovered so far is that both transgender people and people like me are alone when we first decide to struggle. Of course then you discover the communities that are also resisting.
During this period the transgender prostitutes became like my sisters. And if I was touched by them, it was partly because they were the incarnation of being alone and trying to establish a social group just to protect themselves. This will never happen. A transvestite? No way, darling. Finally, one day I decided that I would show them myself. KA: Yes, definitely. I transformed my small apartment in Belleville and painted it all black except for one section of white wall where I projected a slide show of these pictures.
Then I covered the whole neighbourhood with advertisements for the show. And all the outsiders of Paris came! I should have photographed all of them. I did this every evening for three months and as word-of-mouth spread, activists and art-historians also came, and I met many incredible people. RR: Most of your later video projects also feature groups that find themselves apart from the mainstream of society in one way or another, including amputees and people with mental health issues.
You seem deeply interested in the experience of people who are different and so are made to feel like outsiders in their own society. KA: Yes, of course. We are surrounded by a continuum of humiliation in society and this produces monsters sometimes, like terrorists who feel they have nothing left to lose. From my perspective, our world today cannot be understood without taking into account the psychological and emotional aspects of society.
But within the context of their own illness, they make sense. This critique animates some of your works that address the modernist housing estates in the Paris suburbs where you grew up. This has failed and it did so because of the obsession with creating a controllable tool for the nation state. I often think about the Panopticon when I am doing research on social housing.
Indeed, in many respects colonialism was the laboratory in which the design of the French suburbs was developed. Right after the independence of its former colonies, the French state knew that to grow their economy they would need a very cheap source of labour, which they would have to control with a national hegemonic narrative.
RR: You mentioned mise-en-abyme, which in art history refers to placing an image within a similar image, but the term also conjures the common experience of standing between two mirrors and perceiving a seemingly infinite series of reflections. This uncanny device is referenced in a number of your works, from wall paintings and sculptures to some of your photographs that depict housing estates as landscapes of repetition.
KA: For me, it is one of the most sophisticated ways of communicating emotion. In French, the term relates to the idea of a putting into darkness, of endless depth as well as repetition. So we can see different kinds of mise-en-abyme : the kind in the neighbourhood where I grew up, a landscape filled with similar modern and postmodern buildings, and the kind that plays with endless depth.
RR: I wonder if this mise-en-abyme device — which was used in the early twentieth century on commercial packaging for a number of popular food products — also illuminates anxieties around mass production, the endless multiplication of identical objects that reshaped the character of life in industrial societies. KA: I think that my upbringing was shaped not only by the architecture of the French suburbs but also by the society of consumption. The next step, which we are living through today, is digital, which is even scarier.
It is an example of the disappearance of physicality. For me, this is important because emotion is physical, not quantifiable, measurable, or digital. RR: Your use of mirrors in a number of works also relates to the power of mise-en-abyme effects to simultaneously fascinate and unsettle a viewer. KA: I have always been a bit scared by the depth of two mirrors facing each other. The early exchanges between Portuguese sailors and the Congolese involved the exchange of mirrors.
There was an interesting text on this by Frantz Fanon in which he describes how the Portuguese people thought the locals were really stupid to be exchanging ivory for fragments of mirrors but for the Congolese people these were rare items. For them it was a translation of values, they already had a lot of gold and ivory. RR: That history seems to surface in those works where you tile over African masks with mirror fragments. KA: These works have a different source. But there was not a single African mask. Omitting them from this exhibition was an insult to the traditional art of Africa.
In response to this exhibition the first thing I did was to make a work that simply showed to the audience how Cubism was invented. I took an old mask that I found in a market in Dakar — not a Senegalese one but a copy of a traditional Dogon mask. I plastered on mirror pieces following the angles of the mask. After I had put on five pieces, I looked at the mask and saw myself completely fragmented, so I continued to cover the whole surface. This mirror mask is showing everybody who looks at it a Cubist portrait of themselves.
RR: In a number of your vitrine installations pp. KA: In many of my works, especially when it comes to the complexity of dealing with the aesthetics and ethics of colonialism, I ironically re-enact what has been done historically. The vitrines are depicting what has been erected, worshipped and celebrated by museums as a way to explain the world, juxtaposing native populations with exotic animals. This says a lot about human nature, and what we need to keep an eye on: our physical relationship with the other and with creation.
RR: Some of these vitrines allude to acts of looking: a taxidermied animal seems to gaze intently at a mask, or stuffed birds are placed alongside optical instruments like telescopes. These scenarios bring to mind the notion that the vitrine itself is a kind of virtual optical technology, a display mechanism that dematerialises objects and stages them as images consumed behind a glass screen.
In North African culture this is called the Evil Eye. And interestingly, here we are back once more to this question of physicality. The devotion that we give to objects and artworks, to the process of making an exhibition — what is it all about in the end? I hope that we can open up physicality again as a medium of collective experience. A key and disturbing element in this work is the group of historical images that depict severe facial injuries suffered by soldiers in the First World War, images you also explored in Open Your Eyes ; below and pp.
How did you get interested in working with these portraits of men whose faces — the visual marker of our identity — had been brutally altered by violence? Across seven years of research, reviewing thousands of images of these broken faces, I discovered that in the early years of the war the body retained a significant presence of the injury. The French and German armies were so overwhelmed by the number of injuries that they sent nurses onto the battlefield to sew up the faces of soldiers before they took them away.
I then discovered that towards the end of the war, doctors evolved new techniques of repair — they began to work with sculptors and painters to imagine the missing jaw, for example, and to build resin prosthetics and paint them in skin tones. The repair had moved much closer to a fantasy of modernity, based on the Latin etymology of repair, reparare , which means going back to the original state.
The First World War is the most interesting, significant event in modernity — probably the first collapse of modernity. And the ambition of giving back the injured body its original shape was tied up with this modernist vision. That is how society works now — we are fascinated with staying younger, removing wrinkles, all traces of aging.
The notion of beauty is very important in this work too. RR: The other main components in this installation are displays of damaged and repaired traditional carved masks from Africa. You placed these masks in proximity to the images of damaged human faces as if setting up an equivalency between them. The juxtaposing of these two types of elements, which no normal Western museum would have put together, is very unsettling. KA: What interested me with this project was how to connect the facial injuries of soldiers with these broken artefacts that have been treated and repaired in a non-modern or even anti-modern way.
Every repair is entangled with the injury — you cannot separate the two. By showcasing repaired artefacts in your installation, you raise a question about how institutions view the damaged works in their own collections…. Later, a woman who had worked there for years showed me some of the repaired objects they had in storage, which were not easy to find.
They had amazing objects, like a mask from Congo covered by a piece of tin metal torn from a milk box. For me these repairs are not only smart, they also have a lot to say. I think the fact that anthropologists from the West have completely neglected these objects is a sign; it explains something. It shows how much Western museography has been colonising these objects. RR: The dramatic lighting for your installation and the way you group and display the various images and objects seems to refer to the theatrical presentations of old-fashioned history and natural history museums. KA: For me that style of presentation was ironic, it was partly a critique of the modern obsession with classification.
RR: You talked earlier about the cult of the original object, which you see as a crucial symptom of a dysfunctional modernism. You approach this subject from a very different angle in your video Reflecting Memory ; right and pp. Would you say that the video also explores our attachment to this idea of the original object — in this case, the intact human body? KA: I think the video is definitely about the fact that the absence is painful. What is interesting is that this absence of the missing limb calls for repair through pain: what you feel when it hurts is actually your brain building the feeling of the pain so that you ask for repair to stop.
In the end you are left wondering if repair is even possible or if the injury is ultimately irreparable. RR: On one level, phantom limb syndrome is a very uncanny phenomenon: you are being haunted by a ghost that was once part of your own body. At the end of the film there is this moment where they are talking about the difficulty of mourning someone. And Boris says there are two ways to repair the pain of mourning. On the one hand, culture: art, literature, films, creating things. And on the other hand, affections: you have to liberate affection.
Boris, who lost his mother and father in the Holocaust, is actually more of an idealist than some other people. The American scholar Huey Copeland gives an interesting answer at another point in the video, saying that for him intense grief is a visceral thing you cannot repair. And the film hangs between these two directions — on one hand there is the possibility of repairing, on the other hand irreparable grief. So my film was really an ongoing research process carried out through discussions with different people, and including poetic images in which there reside no particular answers.
I really took care to make sure that Reflecting Memory ends without a moralistic sense of certainty… it is definitely not like a film from the History Channel. RR: Your video also explores phantom limb syndrome as a possible metaphor for memories of cultural trauma — in a society, for example, which has isolated or amputated some particular part of the larger social body.
KA: When I worked on this film, it started out as a form of research. I was asking historians, anthropologists and psychiatrists if they thought we can compare the trauma of the phantom limb not only with the huge missing part of a society where there has been genocide or extreme racism, but also with the amputation of its knowledge of colonisation. RR: Like much of your work, this project involved an extensive research process — you interviewed anthropologists, psychiatrists, ethnologists, sociologists, plastic surgeons as well as amputees.
KA: Research projects should not sweat the researches. RR: Your ability to immerse yourself in long processes of research seems to reflect the curiosity you spoke of earlier. KA: I am interested in ways of learning constantly. I think my research into the repair, for example, is something significant that will stay — and not only in my work. I have the feeling that I have brought to light something very important. You created an office-like installation that resembled a research centre or mediatheque. At the same time I included many videos of African people talking, sometimes very academically, and sometimes not.
I want to contribute to a critique of modernity by really making a space for those voices. RR: You recently made a video trilogy — Shifting Borders — that explores different ways people deal with post-traumatic stress disorders in Korea and Vietnam. You seem especially interested here in the therapeutic role played by traditional spiritual beliefs as well as the importance of collective acknowledgement in healing socially-related trauma.
In the film Catharsis, a psychiatrist talks about a case connected to the Korean Sewol Ferry disaster of One family received the luggage belonging to their eighteen-year-old son who had died in the sinking boat. The mother wanted to throw the luggage away but the father kept it, and put it on the passenger seat of his car every day and talked to it.
One day, they met with a psychiatrist and they decided to open it. It was not easy. They started to cry, and the psychiatrist had to admit that they needed the help of a spiritual healer. This openness to traditional belief systems is an interesting thing that I found in Asia. Even as they have completely transformed their economies, they have been able to adapt traditional legacies to deal with present situations. In Vietnam, I was very much struck by the worshipping of the Goddess of the Three Realms, which is still practiced today even though it was banned by the Communist party after the war.
When you visit a medium in Vietnam who heals somebody who has been possessed by a dead US or French soldier, they take it seriously. I think it works because their religions are much more tolerant than Islam or the Judeo-Christian religions; they are animist, much more spongy. RR: Besides offering a postcolonial critique, do you think your art can also play a kind of healing role by helping us to see groups of wounded people in a different light, and also helping them to see themselves in new ways?
KA: Until a couple of years ago, I never thought of that. He is an amputee who lost his leg in Vietnam during the war. When I make my videos, I go out and meet with all kinds of people. In the Shifting Borders films, I found some truly remarkable individuals who had experienced tremendous suffering; both myself and my interpreter were crying during one of the interviews. The shamans and the traumatised people who you see in these films, they are not academics, they are simple people and what they are saying touches all of us.
Cette dialectique du documentaire et du symbolique se retrouve dans toutes les sections. Dans un premier temps, ces. That is where Attia, now 48, grew up and into whose drab, claustrophobic embrace he draws us in the video La Tour Robespierre The Repair from Occident to Extra-Occidental Cultures , which garnered the artist much praise at Documenta 13, plays more literally on the cabinet-of-curiosities idea.
Arranged on the shelves of what seems to be a vast museum storeroom are a dozen or more, larger than life, rough-hewn wooden busts, surrounded by books, pamphlets and vintage photographs. Set alongside Open Your Eyes , a startling slideshow that juxtaposes images of soldiers treated by pioneers of plastic surgery with images of patched-up African masks, The Repair… makes us question our notions of beauty and wholeness.
And, prompted by the title, we are invited to ponder our attitudes to repair, a theme that has long intrigued the artist. In the West, people commonly discard damaged objects, valuing only those in pristine condition. By contrast, in traditional societies, items are mended and restored — often retaining a trace of the damage. For Attia, repair has become a metaphor for cultural re-appropriation and resistance. Better still, a helmet has been turned into a lute.
But defiance is only part of the story. Having met the group by chance, he won their trust by helping them with their efforts to stay legally in France. The triumphs of this exhibition, however, are its coherence and the thoroughness with which Attia delves into the assumptions that underpin museums. What shine through are his political optimism and his belief in the radical healing power of art. A camera pans slowly up the height of the Robespierre Tower — a rather grim looking residential block in Paris. The effect garners sympathy with artist Kader Attia and his description of it as inhuman modernism.
Opposite a cinder block hangs delicately over a mirror, one slip and the whole thing falls apart — it captures exactly how we often feel, zipping along London just about trying to keep our lives together. We think most people already know that. A taxidermy cheetah and an African mask in a vitrine show how both wild animals and African culture have been placed in museums as recognition of European dominion over both worlds.
Stacks of books and busts reference the first world war and the facial reconstruction surgeries carried out to those injured in conflict. The artist is drawing a link in the similarities between the facial modifications of certain African tribesman and the post-war facial reconstruction surgeries. Kader Attia offers an impassioned critique of the enduring effects of colonialism. Kader Attia: The Museum of Emotion opens at a time when the subject of colonial restitution has become an internationally publicised issue.
Published in November , it recommended that all objects looted during the colonial era be permanently returned to their countries of origin. For example, the artist draws parallels between the colonial treatment of objects in museums and the design of modernist housing blocks, such as the Parisian banlieues where he grew up.
The exhibition begins at this intersection of modernism and colonialism, bringing together a selection of works that point to an incompatibility between the utopian ideals of modernist architecture and the realities of social housing. An Untitled work resembling a metal, cage-like, architectural model stands opposite the video projection La Tour Robespierre The Robespierre Tower , which shows a seemingly infinite scroll of monotonous balconies on a housing estate.
SÃ©rie noire - Site Gallimard
Attia draws attention to the alienating and oppressive effects of housing blocks, and of a divided society that pushes its immigrants to the fringes, cultivating an inhumane hotbed of humiliation and exclusion. They discuss the differing public perceptions and opinions that the assault engendered, interwoven with their personal experiences growing up in France and wider analyses. In Measure and Control , Attia ironically mimics the 19th-century mode of display common in natural history or ethnographic museums. In these displays, objects are classified into arbitrary cultural hierarchies.
Non-western cultural heritage is divested of its original significance and co-opted to consolidate western notions of quality and superiority. The artist furthers this institutional critique in his juxtaposition of a taxidermy cheetah with a mask that depicts the animal. The comparison highlights that while one culture chooses to imaginatively depict, the other is predisposed to capture and stuff: a theatre of domination. The vast installation The Repair from Occident to Extra-Occidental Cultures also plays with theatrical western modes of display, with its dramatic lighting and resemblance to an archive or museum storeroom.
Here, as with the projected slides in Open Your Eyes towards the back of the installation, he juxtaposes facial scarification with severe, and quite disturbing, facial injuries suffered by soldiers in the first world war. Attia shows two distinct approaches to treating injuries, but also to beauty — traditional societies choose to keep scars visible, while western societies do their best to erase all signs.
- An Ordinary Lunacy.
- Díselo con diamantes (Bianca) (Spanish Edition);
- FÃŒr andere kaufen;
- Echoes in Exile.
- This Land We Do Not Give.
- Mule Train!
Alternative approaches to healing are also explored in the three-channel video installation Shifting Borders , in which Attia interviews mental health professionals, academics, traumatised survivors of conflict, and traditional healers. The narration oscillates between accounts of tremendous suffering and scholarly dissections of individual and collective traumas suffered in Vietnam and South Korea.
Together, they explore the therapeutic role played by spiritual and shamanistic practices, offering other possibilities for dealing with trauma, outside the ostensible primacy of western medicine. In this work, Attia considers phantom-limb syndrome, a physical and psychological phenomenon where amputees experience sensations in a missing limb, as a metaphor for unresolved, collective trauma.
While some of his speakerssuggest the possibility of healing the pain of mourning, others state that, sometimes, the phantom limb cannot be repaired — there is no effective treatment to stop the pain. He compassionately investigates means of repair through his meticulous research, which he presents through works that are intellectually compelling, but also accessible and emotive. His videos feel notably collaborative, making space for voices that offer alternative modes of thinking, of knowledge.
However, the theme was interpreted by eleven curators in seven exhibitions, along with special commissions and pavilion projects, all of which allowed the idea of borders to take on a far more abstract register. It included new artist commissions as well, but functioned less like an exhibition than a place for visitors to sit and reflect on the current edition with respect to the history of the Biennale since Between those two bookends in the main hall, Rita Gonzalez and Christine Y.
This selection framed the year separation within the span of a much longer history and deeper, shared human experiences, and offered an image of the DRPK alternative to its homogenous and controlled press coverage. Gaweewong focuses on work that was scaled down to human-to-human, one-on-one relations, for the most part, over grand narratives. Nicholson is transparent in the videos about his goal to influence policy concerning asylum seekers in his home country, Australia.
Still, the exchange, and the work as a whole, size front-page political issues down to personal interactions and expose the vast inequities between people, made palpable on an emotional and uncomfortable level. The unassuming, three-channel video installation runs over two hours and is arresting throughout. Each part of the trilogy could be watched in any order and each monitor is equipped with headphones and a place for two people to sit at a time. The interviewees repeat across the three screens and each of their stories or expertise unfolds in nonlinear sequences as the artist managed to juggle and sort the single-camera, single-subject interviews that made up the bulk of the material, by interspersing them with each other and organizing them into several thematic threads.
Shifting Borders is an expansive, historically informed, and cross-disciplinary portrait of the region that could only be crafted by an artist and a foreign agent. It also goes beyond the rigorous formality and emphasis on hospitality one experiences as a foreign art tourist in these spaces and takes you straight to the wounds, the anxieties, and the pain that persists from state violence and will persist regardless of the outcome of contemporary geopolitics.
This new fractal geography is boosted by our obsession with progress. Be it society as a whole or each and every individual: our world continues to admire science as the promising gift that modernity has granted to mankind as a means to escape the conditions of an unsatisfying reality. As we all know, the virtual has always existed …. Around the world, from America and Europe to Africa and South East Asia, shamans and traditional healers say that spirits knew about the Internet long before it existed for us—as a shaman in Vietnam explained to me.
He also told me that they would attack the Internet, because it has grown too fast and within this growth bad spirits auto-regenerate.