Industry and Intelligence: Contemporary Art Since 1820泭Liam Gillick泭192 pp, Columbia University Press, 2016
From the first page of the book, Liam Gillicks泭Industry and Intelligence: Contemporary Art Since 1820泭runs rings around the reader. Compiled from a series of Columbia University lectures, Gillick structures the book around his soft revolutions: events in 1820, 1948, 1963 and 1974 (xi). These chapters seek to explain how contemporary art is influ簫enced by soft revolutions in systems of production and thought. From the European nationalisation of industry in 1948 to the invention of twenty-four hour news stations in 1974, Gillick proposes that art history should look at smaller shifts in technological development, rather than conventional historical landmarks such as world wars. Scattered amidst these genealogical chapters, Gillick muses about the abstract, projec簫tion, curating and the idea of work. Conceptually, Gillick sets out a creative, new lineage, which supposedly promises to add rich historical context to contemporary art. However, irresponsibly superfluous lan簫guage and ideas dizzy the reader beyond comprehension.
The book begins with a deconstruction of the term contem簫porary, which Gillick argues de-politicises all art, as [m]oving against a stream is a problem, for the stream goes in every direction (11). He states that contemporary as a term flattens art, a process particularly perpetuated by auction houses, galleries and art history departments, institutions to which he positions himself in opposition to (3). However, whilst it is important to avoid flattening any historical moment, the Enlightenment, the Renaissance, Modernism are泭just泭historical descrip簫tions, and it would be the fault of the interpreter to homogenise those involved. It is wilfully na簿ve and reductive to state that the contempo簫rary is automatically depoliticised.
Furthermore, the book appears as a rant against art historians. Gillick has a history of run-ins with the academy. In 2004, art historian Claire Bishops article Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics criticised curator Nicolas Bourriauds utopian thinking behind the exhibition of Relational Aesthetics, a participatory art movement of the early 2000s. Bishop argued that a challenging ethos of artistic practice is fundamental to democracy. She criticised Gillicks own artwork: [f]or Gillick the task is not to rail against such institutions, but to negotiate ways of improving them.1泭Gillick famously responded to this article, likening her writing to that found in a right-wing tabloid newspaper.2
In this context, this book reads like a weak response to a fourteen-year feud. Repeatedly stating the importance of the artist and undermining the works of art historians, Gillick seems to be on the defensive. But in this effort, Gillick over-complicates, convolutes, and darts from one thought to another. Placing his own work, a still from泭Hamilton泭(2014), on the cover of the book, and padding out the cen簫tre with fifty images of other works, on first appearance Gillick seems to place art at the forefront of his book. However, he fails to actually泭write泭about any art. Whilst shunting the reader from one disparate year to another, Gillick fails to contextualise these specific soft revolutions within actual contemporary art. Perhaps the reader is supposed to guide themselves to the centre of the book to look for examples. Indeed, Gillick once claimed that his [art]work is like the light in the fridge; it only works when there are people there to open the fridge door.3泭But here, the logic is impossible to follow. Between the lack of examples, diz簫zying array of images, and unintelligible paragraphs, the reader cannot even find the light switch.
Industry and Intelligence泭is at its best when Gillick succinctly brings together his soft revolutions with the contemporary moment. For example, chapter eight states that [t]he year 1963 set up a sequence of bounding ideas that point toward our time (62). Gillick discusses how the presented self began to push back against [the] dominant fiction (62). However, the specificity of the years, 1820, 1948, 1963 and 1974, here becomes clearly a gimmick. The idea of the self-conscious artist was developed long before 1963. Furthermore, despite focussing on the particular year, Gillick later slips, saying this period. In his very effort to de-homogenise contemporary art, looking at specific years for historical context, Gillick trips himself up by oversimplifying the genealogy of art. He often loses all specificity and continually makes totalising statements, such as contemporary art can be understood psychologically as a form of collective bargaining (45).
The book lies somewhere between Marxist theory, art criticism and a stream of consciousness. It comes across as an act of academic posturing, past the point of substantial comprehension. Gillick closes the book with a quote from Nani Morettis film泭Caro Diario泭(1993), which states I believe in people, but I just dont believe in the majority of people (238). This exclusory statement seems to capture the crux of the book.泭Industry and Intelligence泭fails to make any productive contribution to the field because of Gillicks wilful exclusion of a wider readership. He seems determined to prove himself at the cost of the reader.
Citations
[1] Claire Bishop, Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics,泭October, 110 (2014), 51-80, 60.
[2] Liam Gillick, Contingent Factors: A Response to Claire Bishops Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics,泭October,泭115 (2006), 95-107, 95.
[3] Gillick quoted in Bishop, 61.