Rune Mields: Das Ringkreuz, 1990, Sammlung
Deutsche Bank
©VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2004
Yet researchers will probably be facing a completely different problem when
confronted with the task of interpreting these artificial artifacts: in
the final analysis, no one but Hoesle and the participating artists know
the precise contents of the containers; even the materials often remain
unknown. This constitutes a considerable difference to the data copied
onto the microfilm: while the archive in the Barbara Shaft provides
information on past events, the meaning and purpose of the art stored is
based entirely on itself. Even the
Index published by Salon Publishers
isn't much help here: who, really, can interpret the function of the "glass
container, wood, water, and sage" that
Ella Ziegler packed into her container? Who, 1,500 years from now, will be
able to understand anything of
Georg Herold's Improvements of Higher Intelligence, which consists
of "wood, roofing timber, insensitive stamping ink, and plastic foil"? And
who will understand what Karin Sander
was thinking about when she made her work Adi Hoesle 1:3?
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Stephan Huber:
Entwürfe zum
Projekt Bergham, 1992
Deutsche Bank Collection
©VG Bild-Kunst,
Bonn 2004
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Undoubtedly, in contrast to the countless other valuable
cultural goods deserving protection in the Barbara Shaft, the art now
interred there occupies a special status. It's not testimony to past
events, but rather a game with the expectations of tomorrow. An object of
speculation, the action also represents an intersection where the past and
future, testimony and artifact, history and individual intention meet and
perhaps even overlap - because even the most useless work of art is still
the expression of an epoch, one moment in the development of human
creativity. Hoesle's concept aims at precisely this conflict, where art,
which usually acquires its special value through the public appearance in
exhibition venues, becomes a cultural good deserving protection by virtue
of its disappearance. Indeed, it's precisely this disappearance into the
mine that makes the work of art by definition valuable in the first place.
It was also for this reason that Hoesle didn't only invite prominent
artists such as
Jörg Immendorff or
Andreas Gursky to provide a contribution to the project, but for the most
part chose less known names to insure that the Swallowing would
"resist ranking." It's not a matter of market potencies, but of an idea.
Olaf Metzel: Beach (Horse), Cibachrome, 1993
Deutsche Bank Collection, ©VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn 2004
The fact that Hoesle used the word
"Subduktion" for the action, which is the geological term for
the swallowing of the earth's crust into the mantle, is no accident. When
volcanoes erupt, whatever disappears into the depths goes to make up the
substance for the future form of the earth; this is how today's landscapes
evolved over millions of years. In analogy to these scientific
considerations, art represents a mental landscape: in the Swallowing
, Hoesle sees, as he calls it, a "core drilling" to the artistic state of
affairs, as a creative cross-section of the year 2004. Will, then, this
literal state of the art provide a puzzle for future viewers?
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Evidently, many of the participating artists would agree
with this view. The performance artist
Johann Lorbeer was tempted to "inscribe myself into eternity with a work
of art. With a run of 1,500 years, at least I know that a work of mine
will live into the future, and that's a very seductive idea." For the
video artist
Marcel Odenbach, as well, who otherwise tends towards critical
investigation into questions concerning the present, the idea of providing
the world with a puzzle through the disappearance of his work was very
attractive: "With video, it's a special phenomenon because the facts of
nearly uncontrollable reproduction and the question of what an original is
play a key role. My tape has now disappeared for 1,500 years, but right
here is a copy; does this, then, become the master copy?" For the video
artist
Christian Jankowski, whose films have repetitively celebrated absurd
customs in dealing with art, it is primarily the time beyond that excites
his imagination, when he thinks of "the person digging the stuff out again
in 1,500 years. What kind of face will they make at their first encounter
with these prehistoric works of art? What ritual will be performed at the
opening? Will they even remember that something was once buried here? On
the other hand,
Thomas Ruff, who has also investigated the question of reproducibility in
his photographs, refrained from using an artwork - interring instead
photographs of his family in the container, because "I am not interested
in seeing my art conserved to the year 3504."
Marcel Odenbach sealing his artwork in one of the 50 containers;
Photo: www.verschluckung.de
If it were up to
Jonathan Meese, however, then art would always be a secret that resists
final interpretation. "Art only sees itself, and it only aims at itself.
Art is its own view and determines itself according to its own laws, which
people cannot comprehend" - at least that's how the Berlin-based artist
saw things in a recent conversation. This was why it fascinated him to
take part in the action with his work Erzland 22 & 23, because
"the 'Swallowing,' the submersion of the thing, is a burial, and the art
mummifies itself, as it did with the pharaohs." On the other hand, the
artist duo (e.) Twin
Gabriel aren't convinced at all by the myth that the art might provide
a puzzle with its disappearance: "with an action of this type, you have to
ask yourself if you're working on the process conceptually, or if you're
inventing something completely new," Else Gabriel said in reference to her
rather sober considerations. "We decided not to invent anything that has
to be decoded in some faraway time; instead, we packed a few works into
the container that give information on our involvement with the here and
now. And anyway, nobody knows what's going to happen tomorrow!"
Inside the Barbara Shaft
Photo:
Maria Morais
But also for
Bundesverwaltungsamt (Federal Office of Administration), Central Office
for Civilian Protection, which logistically administered the project up to
the regulated interment, the "Swallowing" is an art action that promises
uncertain results. In order to liven up the Barbara Shaft for the
festivities, the walls of the chambers were painted white like the
exhibition rooms of a museum. Unfortunately, however, those responsible
for doing so forgot the air's high level of humidity, which makes it
almost impossible for the paint to dry. From now on, and into the
unforeseeable future, the final depot for the cultural treasures of German
history will bear the sign: Watch Out! Wet Paint!
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