Industry and Intelligence: Contemporary Art Since 1820听Liam Gillick听192 pp, Columbia University Press, 2016
From the first page of the book, Liam Gillick鈥檚听Industry and Intelligence: Contemporary Art Since 1820听runs rings around the reader. Compiled from a series of Columbia University lectures, Gillick structures the book around his 鈥榮oft revolutions鈥: events in 1820, 1948, 1963 and 1974 (xi). These chapters seek to explain how 鈥榗ontemporary鈥 art is influ颅enced by 鈥榮oft revolutions鈥 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 鈥榓bstract鈥, 鈥榩rojec颅tion鈥, 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颅guage and ideas dizzy the reader beyond comprehension.
The book begins with a deconstruction of the term 鈥榗ontem颅porary鈥, which Gillick argues de-politicises all art, as 鈥榌m]oving against a stream is a problem, for the stream goes in every direction鈥 (11). He states that 鈥榗ontemporary鈥 as a term flattens art, a process particularly perpetuated by 鈥榓uction houses, galleries and art history departments鈥, 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听just听historical descrip颅tions, and it would be the fault of the interpreter to homogenise those involved. It is wilfully na茂ve and reductive to state that the 鈥榗ontempo颅rary鈥 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 Bishop鈥檚 article 鈥楢ntagonism and Relational Aesthetics鈥 criticised curator Nicolas Bourriaud鈥檚 utopian thinking behind the exhibition of Relational Aesthetics, a 鈥榩articipatory鈥 art movement of the early 2000s. Bishop argued that a challenging ethos of artistic practice is fundamental to democracy. She criticised Gillick鈥檚 own artwork: 鈥榌f]or Gillick the task is not to rail against such institutions, but to negotiate ways of improving them鈥.1听Gillick famously responded to this article, likening her writing to that found 鈥榠n a right-wing tabloid newspaper鈥.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听Hamilton听(2014), on the cover of the book, and padding out the cen颅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听write听about any art. Whilst shunting the reader from one disparate year to another, Gillick fails to contextualise these specific 鈥榮oft revolutions鈥 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 鈥榌art]work is like the light in the fridge; it only works when there are people there to open the fridge door鈥.3听But here, the logic is impossible to follow. Between the lack of examples, diz颅zying array of images, and unintelligible paragraphs, the reader cannot even find the light switch.
Industry and Intelligence听is at its best when Gillick succinctly brings together his 鈥榮oft revolutions鈥 with the contemporary moment. For example, chapter eight states that 鈥榌t]he year 1963 set up a sequence of bounding ideas that point toward our time鈥 (62). Gillick discusses how the 鈥榩resented self 鈥 began to 鈥榩ush back 鈥 against [the] dominant fiction鈥 (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 鈥榯his period鈥. 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 鈥榗ontemporary art can be understood psychologically as a form of collective bargaining鈥 (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 Moretti鈥檚 film听Caro Diario听(1993), which states 鈥業 believe in people, but I just don鈥檛 believe in the majority of people鈥 (238). This exclusory statement seems to capture the crux of the book.听Industry and Intelligence听fails to make any productive contribution to the field because of Gillick鈥檚 wilful exclusion of a wider readership. He seems determined to prove himself at the cost of the reader.
Citations
[1] Claire Bishop, 鈥楢ntagonism and Relational Aesthetics鈥,听October, 110 (2014), 51-80, 60.
[2] Liam Gillick, 鈥楥ontingent Factors: A Response to Claire Bishop鈥檚 鈥淎ntagonism and Relational Aesthetics鈥濃,听October,听115 (2006), 95-107, 95.
[3] Gillick quoted in Bishop, 61.