KJARTAN SLETTEMARK BY ANNIKA ERIKSSON In 1976, the Norwegian/Swedish artist Kjartan Slettemark dressed up in a white poodle costume and walked around the opening of Malmö Konsthall. Upon the arrival of the museum director, he went to attack, biting and growling but also wagging his tail and trying to please. As a pet that not […]
No one in the audience doubts that he is telling the truth, not even Wittgenstein, who might have been there. But Wittgenstein does not understand why Moore is saying it; he has never heard any one utter that kind of sentence before, so naturally he is a bit puzzled.
The process is like an octopus sometimes, one of those disgusting octopuses with a big heavy occiput which looks like a cross between a fester and a water-filled balloon. In that head, in the mind, there is either a muscle visible under the skin, or else there aren´t any muscles at all, alternatively withered muscles and a lot of skin.
OK, stuff Foucault. We’re talking about Savannah Bob. In this case, the texts have been written in a situation where it was not possible to write without hiding behind a pseudonym. Anonymity is something else.
Not only does the banner claim that “an artist who cannot speak is no artist”, thereby pointing at the linguistic paradigm of contemporary discourse of discourse critique – a discursive tendency which tends to promote ’interesting’, discussion-based art work (or – God forbid – conversation pieces), it also claims that the artist should speak a certain language.
The sophistication it takes to spot the difference between the real thing and the postcard version is rare among contemporary audiences. But a lack of attention needn’t be bad. Some things develop better in the shade.