Quotes

Archive

‘Here and there in the brain, keep-sake boxes that preserve fragments of the past’^[1]

‘Archive Fever comes on at night, long after the archive has shut for the day. Typically, the fever - more accurately the precursor fever - starts in the early hours of the morning, in the bed of a cheap hotel, where the historian cannot get to sleep. You cannot get to sleep because you lie so narrowly, in an attempt to avoid contact with anything that isn't shielded by sheets and pillowcases. The first sign then, is an excessive attention to the bed, an irresistible anxiety about the hundreds who have slept there before you, leaving their dust and debris in the fibres of the blankets, greasing the surface of the heavy, slippery counterpane. The dust of others, and of other times, fills the room, settles on the carpet, marks out the sticky passage from bed to bathroom^[2]

‘Objects that would normally be part of the museum's archive (documentation, photocopies, photographic documentation of events, props) now belonged to the art collection, necessitating new ways of caring for and exhibiting the collection. Further-more, following the increasing interest in archives at this time, archival materials were frequently activated in ways that are difficult to classify as either a clear-cut artistic event or a curatorial project’^[3]

There is an increasing number of artists whose practice literally starts with research in archives, and others who deploy what has been termed an archival form of research (with one object of inquiry leading to another).^[4]

Fast forward from 1979 to the present, however, and historical research and representation appear completely central to contemporary art. There is an increasing number of artists whose practice literally starts with research in archives, and others who deploy what has been termed an archival form of research (with one object of enquiry leading to another)^[5]

(See Hal Foster, 190 Archival Impulse', October 110 (Fall 2004) Foster's notion of an archival impulse has much in common with the subject of my essay but there are important differences. Though he writes that 'archival artists seek to make historical information, often lost or displaced, physically present', (p.4) his concept of 'archival' practice is not restricted exclusively to artists concerned with historical representation. For instance, he describes No Ghost Just a Shell as an archival project. My examples are all of art works specifically concerned with history. Furthermore, Matthew Buckingham, the core subject of this essay, operates in a more directed manner to the artists Foster describes, whose work he characterises as an idiosyncratic probing into particular figures, objects, and events in modern art, philosophy, and history'. (p.3) The connections Buckingham makes between past and present could never be described as "tendentious, even preposterous' (p.21).^[6]

It is thus ... that archives take place... This place where they dwell permanently, marks this institutional passage from the private to the public... It is what is happening, right here, when a house, the Freuds' last house, becomes a museum: the passage from one institution to another^[7]

Term archivalisation, coined by Eric Ketelaar, signifies this conscious or unconscious choice (determined by social and cultural factors) to consider something worth archiving^[8] “For why else connect so feverishly if things did not appear so frightfully disconnected in the first place?”^[9]

Archivists are the ‘keeper of context’^[10]

In the first instance archival artists seek to make historical information, often lost or displaced, physically present. To this end, they elaborate on the found image, object, and text, and favour the installation format as they do so^[11]

Historian Carolyn Steedman has described the desire to go into the archive as ‘emblematic of a modern way of being in the world’, embedded in a certain romantic strand of European history writing concerned with a ‘general fever to know and to have the past’^[12]

‘Steedman argues, the archive gives us access to a particular form of loneliness, tied both to nineteenth-century history writing and a modern sense of alienation R15

The fever to know and to have the past is also tied to psychoanalysis. The psychoanalytic desire to go back to childhood origins, and the Freudian notion of the memory trace that is never erased, have clear associations to working with archival documents, and history has been described as an attempt to capture the soul of an age (exemplified, for instance, by the nineteenth-century historian Leopold von Ranke) R16

In "A Note Upon the Mystic Writing-Pad" Sigmund Freud likened the human psyche to a kind of wax slab, a Wunderblock, with an unlimited capacity for new perceptions^[13]

‘You know perfectly well that the infinite heaps of things they recorded, the notes and traces that these people left behind, constitute practically nothing at all. There is the great, brown, slow-moving strandless river of Everything, and then there is its tiny flotsam that has ended up in the record office you are at work in. Your craft is to conjure a social system from a nutmeg grater…’ R18^[14]

‘Steedman and the nineteenth-century historian Michelet start off in the fragment, but both strive to produce a coherent historical narrative. Cultural theorist Walter Benjamin, on the other hand, deemed fragmentation not something to be overcome, but a key tool for historicising modernity’^[15]

‘Historian Arlette Farge tied her own fascination for the archive to the fact that its documents are not published. Farge's archive is alluring, but also unsettling and colossal, and it grabs hold of the historian: 'The archival document is a tear in the fabric of time, an unplanned glimpse into an unexpected event’^[16] R28

"The passive cultural memory of the archive - a memory that preserves the past as past - is contrasted with the more active canon - preserving the past as present." The canon, according to this scheme, is concerned with working memory whereas the archive concerns itself with reference memory’^[17]

In the decades following the 1980s new perspectives were added to the discussion of archives from emerging academic disciplines focused on technology and memory production. Cultural memory studies and media archaeology contributed in different ways to the increased scholarly attention given to archives at this time, by stressing that the archive needed to be approached both as a concept or notion and as a concrete material manifestation of storage of data or memory^[18]

‘Flaubert is to the library what Manet is to the museum. They both produced works in a self-conscious relationship to earlier paintings or texts [...] They erect their art within the archive’ REF6 Foucault's argument was that from this point on, art was no longer premised on the idea of the individual subject, or artistic genius, but on what the archive had collected and would collect in the future^[19]

‘How exactly does the process of research make it possible for archival material to function as openings to interior worlds? What of such intimacy? How do archives function as mnemonic devices, emotional triggers that conjure up mem-ories, mark the passing of time, strike chords, and invoke feelings of nostalgia and sentimentality? How are they determining of our experiences or feelings of desire, craving, longing, melancholia, loss, and mourning? And, for all its persistence, what of the archive's transience, ephemerality, its process of perceptual deterioration, decay, and disappearance? And, by extension, how are questions of storage and retrieval reframed in our digital culture? What implications does this have for the archive of the future, for its use, and for the very process of research itself?’^[20]

For all academics, curators, and artists, research involves doing: seeing and looking, knowing, unknowing, orchestrating, and making— even if there is often uncertainty in such doing. When we all speak today about the idea of research, we are becoming all that much more aware that it is the ground on which we stand, the air we breath, and that it can be submitted to conscious scrutiny, that it is a little less invisible, and that there are just so many ways to use research to understand research^[21]

These artists are often drawn to unfulfilled beginnings or incomplete projects - in art and in history alike - that might offer points of departure again^[22]

Derrida had long seen in Freudian psycho-analysis a desire to recover moments of inception, beginnings and origins which - in a deluded way - we think might be some kind of truth, and in 'Archive Fever’ desire for the archive is presented as part of the désire to find, or locate, or possess that moment of origin, as the beginning of things^[23]

‘The history of the archive is a history of loss, says Antoinette Burton, but in this case there has been a move into some place beyond, or outwith loss: a very great assiduity of attention to looking for and finding what wasn't there, in Derrida's text.'^[24]

‘What 'archive' may be doing there at all then, is the work of meditating, on starting places, on beginnings, the search for which, because it is impossible, Derrida names as a sickness, a movement towards death. Moreover, he reiterated here, to want to make an archive in the first place, is to want to repeat, and one of Freud's clearest lessons was that the compulsion to repeat is the drive towards death’^[25]

‘Indeed, in one view, the practice of history in its modern mode is just one long exercise of the deep satisfaction of finding things’^[26]

‘It is thus ... that archives take place ... This place where they dwell permanently, marks this institutional passage from the private to the public... It is what is happening, right here, when a house, the Freuds' last house, becomes a museum: the passage from one institution to another^[27]’ REF 10

‘Derrida showed us a place in Mal d'archive, a building, with an inside and outside, which is often a house (occasionally a home). He suggested that in an archive we are under some kind of house arrest.’^[28]

In Freud's account, humour is a kinder thing than the joke. He speculated that it might indeed be the super-ego speaking, offering kindly words of comfort to the intimidated ego, in the language of a good and protective parent: 'Look! Here is the world, which seems so dangerous. It is nothing but a game for children - V just worth making a jest about!' But if Derrida's Mal d'archive provokes that more serious thing, which is a joke, it is because the shade of the history writing that haunts its pages is - really - no laughing matter. In this light then, if there is laughter, it will be some kind of homage, or at the very least, a recognition, of what it is that has been revealed’^[29]

These sources are familiar, drawn from the archives of mass culture, to ensure a legibility that can be disturbed or ‘detourne’ but they can also be obscured, retrieved in a gesture or alternative knowledge or counter-memory^[30]

This type of practice, where an artist uses a museum, collection or archive to document or gather material that is then exhibited, has become a recognisable feature of artistic practice at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Artist-in-residence programmes invite artists into museums and archives with the explicit aim of having them engage creatively and critically with the material." These invitations can be viewed as a more or less calculate of preemptively inoculating the institution from criticism, but can also be seen as a genuine desire to investigate and challenge the institution by making visible the blind spots at work in any institutional setting, In these type of artistic interventions, the archive in the sense of a law or structure of epistemological possibilities is investigated by means of curating objects or documents from the actual archive or collection 239

Alan Sekula has written, 'the widespread use of photography as historical illustrations suggests that significant events are those which can be pictured, and this history takes on the character of spectacle’^[31] Allan Sekula, 'Reading the Archive' in Brian Wallis (ed.), Blasted Allegories (New York: The New Museum of Contemporary Art, 1987), p. 122

It seems clear that there is a considerable tension between the view of curating as a materialisation of a form of associative thinking that likes different objects in ways that create profound and meaningful new understandings, and a suspicion of this kind of connective imposition. This tension is at work in the notion of the archive as well. The archive, as seen in previous chapters, is frequently elicited to point to both structured and intuitive associative modes of thinking^[32]

The prominence of figures such as Aby Warburg and Walter Benjamin in writing about both archives and curating can, I think, be seen as evidence of this doubled interest in the fragmentary and disconnected on the one hand, and the associative and connective on the other. 247

Another key point is that the quotation is a fragment of, and stand-in for, a larger text; it is by definition lifted out of its context and placed into another. Such a list of quotations is therefore a fitting image of both an exhibition and an archive: the archivist or the curator selects and connects parts with one another, and thereby alters what is on view, in part by anchoring it in a new spatial and temporal context. 248

Therefore, if the archivist can be defined as a keeper of context, the curator too could be described in those terms: gathering different artworks together under a common theme, identifying or creating new contexts of interpretation for these objects 248

Clarifying how curating and the archive intersect at this time is thus yet another way of 'connecting the dots' that contribute to the overall understanding of the meaning and function of the archive in contemporary art practice and discourse. 250

When the artwork is no longer a clearly delineated object but a thought process, a gathering of data or a set of ques-tions, the work (both verb and noun) is presumably in progress, ongoing or possible to reactivate in ways not restricted by a particular time and place. 260

Chapter 7 was concerned with the relationship between curating and the archive in both practice and theory. With the increasing importance and visibility of curators comes an increasing focus on the exhibition as form and the experience of artworks in a specific time and place 260

This associative aspect of the curatorial/archival brings the parts (artworks, documents) into a simultaneity of the whole (exhibition, archive); a simultaneity that echoes the temporality of the referential structure of the institutional artworld itself. In sum, as the notion of the archive is filtered through art writing and art practice it becomes embedded in various aspects of, and associations with, temporality 260

In his book Regimes of Historicity: Presentism and Experiences of Time, Francis Hartog used terms such as tyranny of the immediate, short-termism and presenting to describe the sense of a present characterised at once by irony of the instant and by the treadmill of an unending now? Attortines to Baro, this omnipresent and omnipotent present so profoundly regime of dit experience of time that ance considered the current era’s regime of historicity 261

Richard Meyer coined the phrase ‘now-ism' to describe how the spectacular immediacy of the contemporary art world threatens to overwhelm our ability to think critically about the relation of the current moment to the past? Terry Smith has argued that the current art historical period could be understood as a 'mobile, in-between formation, and that the contemporary is suspended in a state after or beyond history, a condition of being always and only in the present:* Yet another example of similar terminology is found in the last chapter of Christopher S. Wood's book A History of Art History, where he argues that art has broken with history and is now self-referential and citational, unapologetically preferring the here and now? Wood directly referenced the notion of presentism - which he defined as the imposition of a pattern found in actuality onto the past' - and argued that it characterises not only the art of the current era but also art historical practice: what used to be the cardinal sin of the art historian has now become an 'unnameable norm." In her book The Past is the Present: It's the Future Too Christine Ross described Hartog's notion of presentism as symptomatic of our times and extremely useful as a prism through which to understand our era, but she also found it to be too exclusively focused on a sense of the present absorbing the past and the future." Ross therefore introduced her own notion of a presentifying regime to describe the way contemporary artistic practices activate the present as an organising principle of the past and the future in a more dynamic way^[33]

The specific condition of art after c. 1960 is, as seen above, at times tied to descriptions of post-history or even the end of art. This does not, however, entail an actual end of art making or of history. Arthur Danto explains: ‘What the end of art means is not, of course, that there will be no more works of art I...] What has come to an end, rather, is a certain narrative, under the terms of which making art was understood to be carrying forward the history of discovery and making new breakthroughs’^[34]

In his essay 'The Art World Revisited, Danto defined the artworld as the historically ordered world of artworks, enfranchised by theories which themselves are historically ordered. He further specified that what makes the artworld able to confer status upon an ordinary object, and thereby transfigure it, is 'first, that to be a member of the art world is to participate in what we might term the discourse of reasons; and secondly, art is historical because the reasons relate to one another historically 263

Preoccupation with historical archives and the theorising of the archive among critics, curators and artists can also be interpreted as symptomatic of a lack of connection to history in general, and art history in particular. Part of Hans Belting's argument about a lack of historical grounding in art after 1960 is that it has resulted in an engagement with 'history' in scare quotes among artists; a 'history' that compensates for the loss of history in the old sense^[35]

Marlene Manoff described what she considered to be the present moment's nostalgia for the past, and argued that although we have tremendous access to historical artefacts and digital surrogates, we also experience a sense of being cut off from a historical context. Taking a longer view, cultural theorist Susannah Radstone similarly outlined an explosion of interest in memory since the early 1970s, which she tied to the earlier disruption of memory in the nineteenth century, suggesting that once it was disrupted, memory was both lost and over-present? Pierre Nora was also concerned with this compensatory element, suggesting that sites of memory (lieux de mémoire) such as archives and museums function as 'exterior scaffolding, needed precisely because we no longer experience memory from the inside." Nora's point was that it is precisely when memory is no longer lived and spontaneous that we delegate to the archive the responsibility of remembering; de-ritualisation means that our age calls out for memory precisely because it has abandoned it?? Once the relationship between real memory and history is broken we find ourselves subjected to a 'regime of discontinuity' - a sense of a past that is invisible, fractured and discontinuous. Our relationship to the past, Nora argued, is now formed in a subtle play between its intractability and its disappearance; it has become a question of representation - in the original sense of re-presentation - radically different from the old ideal of resurrecting the past^[36]

As Rita Felski has suggested, the scholar engaged in knee-jerk forms of critique translates hindsight into insight by holding a text to account for the structures of domination that define the moment in which it was created. The critic, Felski argued, wields the scalpel of "context" to reprimand "text"28 With this comes a critique of the previous versions of the discipline of art history itself and its focus on masterpieces by white, male, heterosexual artists, a critique that makes it increasingly difficult to seriously consider a teleological forward motion of history, with one school or -ism' building on and replacing another."^[37]

Further specifying what he meant by contemporary art as the current eras 'international style, Joselit suggested that it draws its building blocks from conceptual art, most notably the proposi-tion, the document and the readymade." Joselit's point is that contemporary art takes up conceptual art as a style by adapting and expanding the syntactic capacity of these forms as they attain saturation as a lingua franca, their very identity as a style an indication that they are now ossified references, simultaneously current and historical^[38]

Many have pointed out that today's museums are not as focused on their collections as they once were, and that they increasingly focus on temporary exhibitions that provide entertainment and spectacular experiences for their visitors." Although it is far from true that art museums no longer collect art or exhibit their collections, it is the case that many museums, for a variety of reasons, seem to be less focused on collections and more on temporary exhibi-tions. A widespread variation of this is the practice of rearranging museum collections into temporary exhibitions, mixing contemporary artworks with long-established canonical works. Critic and philosopher Boris Groys has argued that the very basis for a permanent art collection, with its ties to the archive, the library and the museum, functioned in secular societies as a substitute for the religious promise of resurrection and eternal life." Today, however, this promise has lost its plausibility, according to Groys, and museums have therefore become sites of temporary exhibitions that materialise the view of a future characterised by the permanent change of cultural trends and fashions'" Belting similarly ventured to speculate that people now visit museums to experience the present tense, much as other generations wanted to view a coherent art history? This present tense can be experienced in different ways in museums: in long-durational works, performances, and looped video works for instance^[39]

The coexistence of seemingly contradictory tendencies can in that sense be understood as part of the same general condition: the constant flow of people visiting the must-see museums as tourist destinations, the practice of remaking existing artworks, the lure of the live event and the curatorial trope of mixing contemporary art with 'permanent' historical collections can all be framed as participating in such presentist endeavours. The latter exem-plies what Groys has described as a constant rewriting of the past: "the present has ceased to be a point of transition from the past to the future, becoming instead a site of the permanent rewriting of both past and future^[40]

This future-oriented temporality is described by Derrida in Archive Fever).

The question of the archive is not ... a question of the past..., he argued, it is a question of the future, the question of the future itself, the question of a response, of a promise and of a responsibility for tomorrow. The artifice want to know what this will have meant, we will only know in times to come^[41]

Belting has pointed out that artists have always appropriated earlier artists' work; however, because contemporary artists cannot hope to place their own artistic practice within an art historical lineage, their particular forms of what Belting calls quotation-art' should be understood as symptomatic of the break with a continuous art history rather than an active engagement with it."^[42]

The pixelated, distorted, cropped and oddly coloured images that make up Marandas remake of Ruscha's book of gasoline stations can be seen to exemplify what Hito Steyerl called the poor image. Steyerl opened her 2009 article 'In Defense of the Poor Image’ with the following definition: 'The poor image is a copy in motion; and she went on to specify that the poor image 'is no longer about the real thing - the originary original. Instead, it is about its own real conditions of existence: swarm circulation, digital dispersion, fractured and flexible temporalities."^[43]

Ketelaar's notion of the semantic genealogy of the archive is an overt application of Freud's retrospective causality, which is also brought up in a number of texts about archive art and related categories^[44]

History is, in these artworks, engaged with and fetishised, at the same time that it is presented as ripe for unmasking and deconstructing^[45]

‘The archive art phenomenon as highly self-reflexive may also play a part in making it less useful to describe and analyse an artwork such as Future Library. Although this project is clearly concept-based, it evokes a candid and unabashed optimism that can be seen to be a turn away from the distanced sense of 'history' as appropriation that characterises much archive art. Since the archive is so closely tied to critique, and critique is anchored in what Rita Felski calls a 'professional pessimism, a work such as Future Library perhaps does not lend itself to archival terminology as seamlessly as one might think.' Instead Future Library functions as a direct invitation to think about the materiality of the future and the people who will live there, their environmental conditions and intellectual lives, and it is arguably an overt argument against both presentism and pessimism’^[47]

Like a statement from another age (Tacita Dean on The Bubble House)^[48]

In a sense all these archival objects … serve as arks of a lost moment^[49]

The here-and-now of the work (archive work ch) functions as a possible portal between an unfinished past and a re-opened future^[50] ‘discourses that have ceased to be ours’^[51] and so might indicate ‘gaps’ in contemporary practice- gaps that might be converted to beginnings (again, this is the attraction of this threshold for some young artists) like Hirschhorn and Dean, then, Durant presents his archive materials as active, even unstable- open to eruptive returns and entropic collapses, stylistic repackagings and critical revisions^[52]

Steedman argues, the archive gives us access to a particular form of loneliness, tied both to nineteenth-century history writing and a modern sense of alienation The fever to know and to have the past is also tied to psychoa-nalysis. The psychoanalytic desire to go back to childhood origins, and the Freudian notion of the memory trace that is never erased, have clear associations to working with archival documents, and history has been described as an attempt to capture the soul of an age (exemplified, for instance, by the nineteenth-century historian Leopold von Ranke) In 'A Note Upon the"Mystic Writing-Pad" Sigmund Freud likened the human psyche to a kind of wax slab, a Wunderblock, with an unlimited capacity for new perceptions^[53]

The duality of safekeeping and forgetting is key for Derrida:

‘The archive [...] produces memory, but produces forgetting at the same time.

And when we write, when we archive, when we trace, when we leave a trace behind us ... the trace is at the same time the memory, the archive, and the erasure, the repression, the forgetting of what it is supposed to keep safe.'^[55]

Steedman and the nineteenth-century historian Michelet start off in the fragment, but both strive to produce a coherent historical narrative. Cultural theorist Walter Benjamin, on the other hand, deemed fragmentation not something to be overcome, but a key tool for historicising modernity^[56]

Historian Arlette Farge tied her own fascination for the archive to the fact that its documents are not published. Farge's archive is alluring, but also unsettling and colossal, and it grabs hold of the historian: 'The archival document is a tear in the fabric of time, an unplanned glimpse into an unexpected event’^[57]

The passive cultural memory of the archive - a memory that preserves the past as past - is contrasted with the more active canon - preserving the past as present. The canon, according to this scheme, is concerned with working memory whereas the archive concerns itself with reference memory^[58]

Flaubert is to the library what Manet is to the museum. They both produced works in a self-conscious relationship to earlier paintings or texts ...] They erect their art within the archive. Foucault's argument was that from this point on, at. was no longer premised on the idea of the individual subject, or artistic genius, but on what the archive had collected and would collect in the future?

Flaubert is to the library what Manet is to the museum. They both produced works in a self-conscious relationship to earlier paintings or texts [...] They erect their art within the archive. Foucault's argument was that from this point on, at. was no longer premised on the idea of the individual subject, or artistic genius, but on what the archive had collected and would collect in the future^[60]

W G Sebald - Sebald surveys a modern world so devastated by history as to appear ‘after nature’, many of its inhabitants are ‘ghosts of repetition’ who seem at once ‘utterly liberated and deeply despondent’^[61]

The archives at issue here are not the databases in this sense; they are recalcitrantly material, fragmented rather than fungible, and as such they call out for human interpretation, not machine reprocessing^[62]

Being asked for a document from one’s past can, at times, feel like running a mortician’s parlour^[63]

The European has a constant need to measure personal contribution alongside history^[64]

The curious way artists bring materials together to make archives of their own, or inflect an existing archive with their own curatorship, artistry, investigation as, as ever in the archive, particularity^[65]

The material [of the archive] is not foundational, it does not institute. Poetic- political value of archives^[66]

AT ITS LOOSEST, THE ARCHIVE IS MEMORY ITSELF^[67]

In protecting, authenticating, democratising, debunking, collapsing and colliding: through archives - writing on them and art projects in them - we see the tides of our times, reactionary, neo-liberal, post-modern, deconstructivist and other^[68]

Surveillance practices mark our time, and people are aware to varying degrees that they are documented^[69]

This is what draws artists to archive, as they introduce, juxtapose, remove things from view; as they alter terms of access, accentuate the spirit of the place, descend into the criteria that define the archive, its provenance, and so the territory of the archival contract and promise^[70]

We wonder how to discern and distinguish ourselves, mark and forge a path, in an era of multiplication on many fronts: discoursed, identities, market^[71]

Are the art projects actually anything to do with the archives? The attitude of knowingness congeals so readily in an image-opinion-saturated environment^[72]

One of the basic appeals of art is the seduction, an enthrallment or draw through its form and content that collapses the sensory and the intellectual and demonstrates that they are integral^[73]

The concept of the archive shelters in itself, of course, this memory of the name Arkhe^[74]

There are three approaches to the object world … the souvenir, fetishistic and systematic modes of collecting^[75] - Susan Pearce

Derrida characterises the archive as an ‘uncommon place … there is no political power without control of the archive, if not memory’^[76]

This memory that the archive hides within the memory of its own subjectivity, and so we apprehend its own will to destruction^[77] (the will to destroy the memory of its own name, , to deny, to hide subjectivity)

more people have means to make more documents of themselves, and to store and retrieve them. There is a dematerialisation of imagery from printed matter to screen, affecting the visual and tactical quality of personal archives^[78]

The heart of interest in artists’ journeying in archives, and documentation, is that it draws poetic-political power away from a view of emancipation based on the duality of represented versus non represented, and invests authority - an imagination and agency- in other ways^[79]

As the artist makes work, guns blazing, he moves through distinctions as they are useful: the specialist spirit, chatter about recuperation and the conjuring of the consciousness industry^[80]

When the present becomes unbearable, there are two means of escaping it: the past and the future. Plato chose the second, assigning happiness a place in his utopia … but humanity equally indulged in … nostalgia. Established as an absolute, the past also becomes a refuge. Only when men sense the waning of civilization do they suddenly become interested in its history and, probing, become aware of the force and uniqueness of the ideas it has fostered. Hegel said that the owl of wisdom only appears at twilight^[81]

[modernity] is a gigantic process driven by a sort of psychic entropy. This psychic entropy is a movement towards a lowest point, triggered by a form of unwinding that is made possible by the discharging of energy through technology^[82]

In these memory-obsessed times — haunted by the demands of history, overwhelmed by the dizzying possibilities of new technologies - the archive presents itself as the ultimate horizon of experience.^[83]

The so-called ‘archival turn’ thus involved a shift from the archive-as-source towards archive-as-subject^[84] The archival thus shares a conceptual grounding with the curatorial: both deal with parts and fragments that are framed as belonging together as a whole — be it in the archive or an exhibition

Arthur Danto’s idea of post-history posits that contemporary artists exhibit a historical interest that is in a large part compensation for a loss of historical grounding of the notion of art itself^[85]

Scholar of literature Jonathan Culler cautioned against the use of the term context, arguing that the term tends to hide the fact that context is not given but produced. Culler’s proposed alternative framing has the advantage of reminding the reader that the researcher is engaged in an active procedure with actual consequences for the studied material^[86]

‘Anxiety and dust provoke the archiving impulse. In the museum — the mausoleum most artists still aim to enter through their work — the recesses of the storeroom simultaneously beckon and bar access to history^[87]

[in reference to Interarchive] a process ‘whereby the archive was .. to be treated less as a source of research and more as an exemplary research object’^[88]

Scholar of French and Visual culture David Houston Jones used the term archivalism to encompass different activities by artists including the ‘instrumentalization of archival media .. the book claimed to identify and analyse five types of archival practice .. Intermedial, testimonial, relational, personal and monumentalist^[89]

Jaimie Baron coined the phrase ‘the archive effect’ to indicated a perceived need to reformulate the archival document from an officially sanctioned storage location towards a focus on its reception and how it generates ‘an experience of pastness’^[90]

[in Ghosting, Jane Connarty] Brought up how artists interrupt and dismantle conventional narrative and thereby examine ‘the potential for found footage work to set up a critical position between viewer and image’^[91]

Derrida’s notion of the Mal d’archive whereby the archive represents both the creative and destruction impulse (both Thanos and Eros, in Derrida’s formulation)^[92]

Many of the texts on archive art discuss a somewhat porous border between truth and fiction. Some, most notably Cheryl Simon’s overtly connect the archival interest among artists to postmodernist theory, whereas others allude to postmodernism’s key features- appropriation, the move away from meta-narratives, the embracing of critical forms of analysis..^[93]

Enwezor argued that for nearly a century artists had used photographic archives to think through historical events, but in recent years artists have been ‘interrogating the status of the photographic archive as a historical site that exists between evidence and document, public memory and private history’^[94]

The firm trust in the photograph as proof ‘a substantiated real or putative fact presented in nature’ no longer holds, according to Enwezor^[95]

[of the Atlas Group] they ‘also intimate that sense of the absurd, the futile, or the impossible, which ultimately haunts the logic of the archive’^[96]

Hal Foster wrote how artists were concerned with archives that are ‘recalcitrantly material’ and Cheryl Simon noted that contemporary art practice has a particular ‘material resonance’ that sets it apart from the linguistic focus of postmodernism that precedes it^[97]

Enwezor, for instance, described the archive as the place ‘where a suture between the past and present is performed, in the indeterminate zone between event and image, document and monument’.^[98]

Ingrid Schaffner alluded to the common notion that the archive is somehow directed both to the past and the future, arguing that artists tapping into the theme of storage and archive create work that both ‘anticipates its own future condition and reflects upon past, often accumulative, aspects of artists’ visual practice’^[99]

[Enwezor, discussing the relationship between photography and temporality] contrasting ‘linear time’ with the more fluid ‘archival time’^[100]

Enwezor noted an ‘temporal delay’ that characterises the archive. Which he tied to the delay in processing of analogue photographic prints^[101]

Contemporary preoccupation with memory in western culture, particularly with a new age of forgetting as global digital connectivity promotes an unprecedented externalisation of personal and social memory into the virtual memory spaces of the internet^[102]

Roelstraete claimed to have identified a trend in recent art where artists ‘engage not only in storytelling, but more specifically in history-telling’, and in this retrospective, historiographic mode. Roelstrate included the historical account, the archive, the document, the act of excavating and unearthing, the memorial, the art of reconstruction and re-enactment and the testimony^[103]

[Derrida] the word archive ’shelters’ itself fro, this memory which it shelters, in that it also forgets it

Derrida uses Fred’s psychoanalytic concept that the compulsion to repeat - to recollect/ re-collect in memory - represents the drive towards death^[104]

Contemporary art curator Mereweather (2006) contextualised the ways in which concepts of the archive have been defined, examined, contested and re-invented by artists and cultural observers (curators, critics, theorists) [Mereweather 2006] four main themes of engagement: Traces, Inscriptions, Contestations and Retracings^[105]

Archives made by artists as a gesture of alternative knowledge or counter-memory might be described as an anarchical impulse^[106]

Playful critique of the exactitude -the visual truth- of the photographic trace is one vivid strand of contemporary art archive (Maimon 2008; Hobbs 1998; McGurren 2010; Gibbons 2007; Rizk 2008, Avgikos 2008)^[107]

While the photograph archives the non-reproducible present, a non-replaceable place [Derrida 2010], fictional narratives of memory and history may be easily created^[108]

Memory as an analysis of forgetting was explicitly linked in the archive-making book projects of the Provoke and Vivo groups of avant-garde photographers in post-war 1950s Japan (Mereweather 2002 and 2006)^[109]

As curator of the exhibition Archive Fever: Uses of the Document in Contemporary Art [Enwezor 2007] argues that the critique of the archive in recent artistic production has shifted from the museum and aesthetic ideas about authenticity and autonomy (which dominated postmodern practices) to concerns about art’s relationship to historical reflections of the past, the active use of historical documents and photographs by artists to negotiate the zone between trauma and public memory^[110]

How traces -the residual marks or index left behind by events or experiences - are perceived and understood is posited as a key theme in the relation between art and the archive (Mereweather 2006) 5

[Green (2002 in Merewether 2006) writes of looking for the absences, lacunae, holes in the archives to apprehend what is not said or recorded, and asks what role chance might play in what is remembered and what is archived as memory, both personal and cultural^[111]

Emerging consensus that memory is more easily retained if physically located in a locality or site, ‘retracing one’s steps in minds-eye of thinking is a literal and metaphorical relocating go the cortical trace/s that constitute stored memory (Ricoeur 2044)^[112]

Huyssen (1995) allusion to a culture of amnesia and the temporal space of twilight as a metaphor for the fleeting, yet marvellous zone between remembering and forgetting^[113]

The archive is, sort of, a memory bank which connects it to questions of mortality. Mostly, you can watch stuff without realising it's about people who’ve gone. That recognition is, on its own, not very much unless it's married with a second recognition which is, that the image is one of the ways in which immortality is enshrined in our psyche and in our lives^[114]

Benedict Anderson ‘Jules Michelet went into the archive in order to enact a particular kind of national imagining’^[115]

And nothing starts in the Archive, nothing, ever at all, though things certainly end up there. You find nothing in the Archive but stories caught half way through: the middle of things; discontinuities^[117]

‘Yes, everyone who dies leaves behind a little something, his memory, and demands that we care for it. For those who have no friends, the magistrate must provide that care. For the law, or justice, is more certain than all our tender forgetfulness, our tears so swiftly dried. This magistracy, is History. And the dead are, to use the language of Roman law, those miserabiles personae with whom the magistrate must preoccupy himself. Never in my career, have I lost sight of that duty of the historian’^[118]

Bruce Robbins has observed that as 'character was the mask that people were expected to don in the face of power, 'it seems more than a coincidence that from the time ... when modern criticism took shape, a "character" was a statement in which one employer described to another ... the habits and qualities of a servant?"^[120]

To interrogate that place [memory], we have to be less concerned with History as stuff (we must put to one side the content of any particular piece of historical writing, and the historical information it imparts) than as process, as ideation, imagining and remembering.^[121]

It is a common desire - it has been so since at least the end of the nineteenth century - to use the Archive as metaphor or analogy, when memory is discussed. But the problem in using Derrida discussing Freud in order to discuss Archives, is that an Archive is not very much like human memory, and is not at all like the unconscious mind.^[122]

The Archive is not potentially made up of everything, as is human memory; and it is not the fathomless and timeless place in which nothing goes-away that is the unconscious. The Archive is made from selected and consciously chosen documentation from the past and also from the mad fragments that no one intended to preserve and that just ended up there.^[123]

History... is certainly the most erudite, the most aware, the most conscious, and possibly the most cluttered area of our memory; but it is equally the depths from which all beings emerge into their precarious, glittering existence. Since it is the mode of being of all that is given us in experience, History has become the unavoidable element in our thought^[124]

It is a common desire - it has been so since at least the end of the nineteenth century - to use the Archive as metaphor or anal-ogy, when memory is discussed. But the problem in using Derrida discussing Freud in order to discuss Archives, is that an Archive is not very much like human memory, and is not at all like the unconscious mind^[125]

But in actual Archives, though the bundles may be mountainous, there isn't in fact, very much there. The Archive is not potentially made up of everything, as is human memory; and it is not the fathomless and timeless place in which nothing goes away that is the unconscious. The Archive is made from selected and consciously chosen documentation from the past and also from the mad fragmentations that no one intended to preserve and that just ended up there^[126]

These are the origins of a prosaic place where the written and fragmentary traces of the past are put in boxes and folders, bound up, stored, catalogued ...

And: the Archive is also a place of dreams^[127]

I have given to many of the disregarded dead the assistance that I shall myself need. I have exhumed them for a second life ...

They live now among we who feel ourselves to be their parents, their friends. Thus is made a family, a city community of the living and the dead.^[128]

In the light of thick darkness enveloping the earliest antiquity, so remote from ourselves, there shines the eternal and never failing light of a truth beyond all question: that the world of civil society has certainly been made by men, and that its principles are therefore to be found within the modifications of our own human mind^[129]

The Archive allowed the imagining of a particular and modern form of loneli-ness, which was perhaps analogous to the simultaneous conception of the Historian's relationship to the past 'as one of irretrievable dispossession: Stephen Bann has described this sense of alienation, and disinheritance, and the way in which in the nineteenth century, it was widely and effectively diffused through the various media of representation^[130]

Cobb made the act of identification waiting to be made, said that the Historian's main problem 'is that of loneliness, especially lone-iness in the urban context’^[131]

Eagleton of the letters "The letter is part of the body which is detachable: torn from the very depths of the subject, it can equally be torn from her physical possession’^[132]

To want to go to the Archive may be a specialist and minority desire (only a Historian's desire after all), but it is emblematic of a modern way of being in the world nevertheless, expressive of the more general fever to know and to have the past. Wanting the past can be attributed to certain turns of thought by which individual narratives of growth and development (particularly narratives of childhood) have become components of what we understand a modern self to be^[133]

Bann describes a desire for the lifelike in nineteenth-century historical representation: in the museum, the collection, the pageant, and in the formal written work of history, so that the representation might inscribe how things really were', and as 'they really happened.^[134]

In the everyday world of the early twenty-first century, we operate within this mode by means of a politics of the imagination in which the past has become a place of succour and strength, a kind of home, for the ideas people possess of who they really want to be. In the 1980s and in a terminology that has now largely been lost, these new uses of the imagination came to be called 'identity politics^[135]

The object (the event, the happening, the story from the past) has been altered by the very search for it, by its time and duration: what has actually been lost can never be found. This is not to say that nothing is found, but that thing is always something else, a creation of the search itself and the time the search took. These are Jean Laplanche's comments on the search for the lost object. The experience of psycho-analytic practice shows him the ways in which, through the processes of displacement and repression, the object sought is bound to be 'not the lost (one], but a substitute." The very search for what is lost and gone (in an individual past or a public historical past) alters it, as it goes along, so that every search becomes an impossible one^[136]

Scott's chosen setting ('sixty years since, forty in George Eliot's case) was not very far removed from current experience, yet distant enough to arouse the reader's nostalgia. If you wrote at this remove, there would no exotic setting to distract the reader from the internal time of human passion. You could make the past live for the reader: your novel could then effect the integration of the external time of history with the beat of human interiority^[137]

"Bourgeois society tried to consume the past, explains Donald Lowe in his History of Bourgeois Perception, 'in order to attenuate somewhat its estrangement in the mechanical, segmented present."^[138]

The reader is reminded that every one of our actions is watched; that throughout our life, we constantly leave deposits and pick things up: 'Pray that when your life-journey comes to an end, the dust under your feet may show that you have been walking in the right road' (Conder, Dust, p. 3). God here is turned into a detective-like figure, just as Sherlock Holmes reads signs of past movements in the dust in A Study in Scarlet (1887)^[139]

Because there is the past and a specific passion for the past. And there is history because there is an absence... The status of history depends on the treatment of this twofold absence of the 'thing itself" that is no longer there - that is in the past; and that never was - because it never was such as it was told.'^[140]

So there is a double nothingness in the writing of history and in the analysis of it. it is about something that never did happen in the way it comes to be represented (the happening exists in the telling or the text); and it is made out of materials that aren't there, in an archive or anywhere else. 154 dust^[141]

We will enter on our career (the career of the citizen and the revo-lutionary /When our elders are no more/ We will find there their dust - leur poussière - And the trace of their virtues^[142]

For if we could only read them rightly, all the records of the animated past are written in the rocks and dust of the present'^[144]ref 43

There are all sorts of photographic archives: commercial archives like Shedden's, corporate archives, government archives, museum archives, historical society archives, amateur archives, family archives, artists' archives, private collectors' archives and so on. Archives are property either of individuals or institutions, and their ownership may or may not coincide with authorship. One characteristic of photography is that authorship of individual images and the control and ownership of archives do not commonly reside in the same individual. Photographers are detail workers when they are not artists or leisure-time amateurs, and thus it is not unreasonable for the legal theorist Bernard Edelman to label photographers the 'pro-letarians of creation.'^[145]

Archives, then, constitute a territory of images: the unity of an archive is first and foremost that imposed by ownership. Whether or not the photographs in a particular archive are offered for sale, the general condition of archives involves the subordination of' use to the logic of exchange. Thus not only are the pictures in archives often literally for sale, but their meanings are up for grabs. New owners are invited, new interpretations are promised. The purchase of reproduction rights under copyright law is also the purchase of a certain semantic licence. This semantic availability of pictures in archives exhibits the same abstract logic as that which characterises goods in the marketplace^[146]

In an archive, the possibility of meaning is liberated from the actual contingencies of use. But this liberation is also a loss, an abstraction from the complexity and richness of use, a loss of context^[147]

Meaning is always directed by layout, captions, text, and site and mode of presentation. |..] Thus, since photographic archives tend to suspend meaning and use, within the archive meaning exists in a state that is both residual and potential. The suggestion of past uses coexists with a plenitude of possibilities. In functional terms, an active archive is like a toolshed, a dormant archive like an abandoned toolshed. (Archives are not like coal mines: meaning is not extracted from nature, but from culture.)^[148]

Thus the spectator comes to identify with the technical apparatus, with the authoritative institution of photography. In the face of this authority, all other forms of telling and remembering begin to fade. But the machine establishes its truth, not by logical argument, but by providing an experience. This experience characteristically veers between nostalgia, horror, and an overriding sense of the exoticism of the past, of its irretrievable otherness for the viewer in the present. Ultimately then, when photographs are uncritically presented as historical documents, they are transformed into aesthetic objects. Accordingly, the pretence to historical understanding remains, although that understanding has been replaced by aesthetic experience^[149] 448

Archival researchers and archivists are exploring a multiplication of perspectives. They are learning (or relearning) from anthropologists, sociolo-gists, philosophers, cultural and literary theorists: to look up from the record and through the record, looking beyond - and questioning - its boundaries, in new perspectives seeing with the archive (to use Tom Nesmith's magnificent expression*), trying to read its tacit narratives of power and knowledge.’^[150]'

‘But where to look? According to Jacques Derrida's earlier reading of Freud, the physical archive outside is merely an impression of the invisible private psyche. Both are traces, one internal, the other external. But more recently Derrida has argued that archivization (the English translation of archiva-tion) is consigning, inscribing a trace in some external location, some space outside: "It belongs to the concept of the archive that it be public, precisely because it is located. You cannot keep an archive inside yourself - this is not archive?" ^[151]

Every interaction, intervention, interrogation, and interpretation by

creator, user, and archivist is an activation of the record. The archive is an infinite activation of the record. Each activation leaves fingerprints which are attributes to the archive's infinite meaning. As David Bearman writes

‘When we accession, transfer, arrange, weed, document and inventory archival materials, we change their character as well as enhance their evidential and informational value’^[152]

No longer can we regard the record as an artefact with fixed boundaries of contents and contexts. In a post traditional view - reinforced by the challenges of the electronic records - the record is a "mediated and ever-changing construction," as Terry Cook writes.34 It is open yet enclosed, it is 'membranic, the membrane allowing the infusing and exhaling of values which are embedded in each and every activation^[153]

The archive, in Derrida's thinking, is not just a sheltering of the past: it is an anticipation of the future." Every activation of the archive not only adds a branch to what I propose to call the semantic genealogy of the record and the archive. Every activation also changes the significance of earlier activations. It is an application of Freud's retrospective causality^[154]

The archival document is not a simple artifact, a zip-file that opens with one stroke on the keyboard. The document does not open itself nor speaks for itself, but only by inference from its semantic genealogy^[155]

‘The museologist Eilean Hooper-Greenhill wrote

Meanings are not constant, and the construction of meaning can always be undertaken again, in new contexts and with new functions. The radical potential of museums lies in precisely this. As long as museums and galleries remain the repositories of artefacts and specimens, new relationships can always be built, new meanings can always be discovered, new interpretations with new relevances can be found, new codes and new rules can be written^[156]

The new concept of provenance, as recently proposed by Tom Nesmith, "consists of the social and technical processes of the records' inscription, transmission, contextual characteristics, and continuing history^[157]

Space

‘Thus, on the threshold of our space, before the era of our own time, we hover between awareness of being and loss of being. And the entire reality of memory becomes spectral’^[158]

There is a staircase, so we know that we are in a house, and not a one-level dwelling: that we are not here in one of those places that in The Poetics of Space, Gaston Bachelard called oneirically incomplete, in which the different rooms that compose living quarters jammed into one floor all lack one of the fundamental principles for distinguishing and classifying the values of intimacy. We are emphatically not in a dwelling that, by this criterion, fails to provide the working material for dreams.^[159]

Much of the exegesis that follows in The Poetics of Space is to do with the way in which childhood remains alive and poetically useful within us. And yet when Bachelard comes to concentrate on the miniature in Chapter 7 of his book, he puts to one side the proposition that the tiny things we imagine simply take us back to childhood, to familiarity with toys and the reality of toys?* He dismisses this idea by telling us that the imagination deserves better than this. (He means: the imagination deserves a better kind of explanation than this.) 'In point of fact, he claims, 'imagination in miniature is natural imagination which appears at all ages in the daydreams of born dreamers.'^[160]

Maybe it is a good thing for us to keep a few dreams of a house that we shall live in later, always later, so much later, in fact, that we shall not have time to achieve it. For a house that was final, one that stood in symmetrical relation to the house we were born in, would lead to thought- serious, sad thoughts - and not to dreams. It is better to live in a state of impermanence that in one of finality’^[161]

It [serpentine pavilion] proposes a psychological and physical form of spatialisation that is at once open to all and uniquely privatised; open for all bodies and at the same time disinterested in their forms of inhabitation^[162]

[Aldo van Eyck’s pavilion for the 5th international sculpture exhibition 1966 Arnheim] in such an environment the viewer might come across sculpture as a part of an overall aesthetic and physical experience, but the sculptures themselves are not given privileged status. This exemplified van Eyck’s desire to create an ‘in between world’ - a place where architecture ‘breathes in and out’^[163]

Postmodern condition has led to the end of community - Harvey 1990^[164]

Success of developments is dependant upon the degree to which the reinvention of the urban landscape is foisted up the identity of the place concerned^[165]

Community is communicative in the sense of being formed in a collective action based on place, and is not merely an expression of an underlying cultural identity - Delanty 2003^[166]

An alternative interpretation would be that a lot of culture-led investment inevitably produces placeless forms of cultural representation- dicks / dieks 2003^[167]

[ready-made identities assigned by city-boosting projects] these practices are thus highly elitist and exclusionary, and often signify to more disadvantaged segments of the population that they have no place in this revitalised and gentrified urban spectacle - Broudeboux 2004^[168]

City’s cultural capital cannot easily be manipulated- inappropriately blatant image construction will inevitably give rise to tensions and political conflict- in effect the representation of a city must do more than simply construct a ’pseudo place’ - Auge 1996^[169]

Just add culture and stir school of thought - Gibson and Stevenson 2004, Jones and Wilks- Heg 2004

Large project can be difficult to sustain unless part of a wider regeneration and formally rooted in the community^[170]

Uses of disorder - R. Sennett

In reconceptualising the city we should not be seeking to restore utopian visions of small intimate urban sociability, but should rather seek to find some condition of urban life appropriate for an affluent technological era^[171]

There were hidden threads of social structure in .. poor city areas, threads that give the people who lived there other regions of identity beyond their own poverty, essentially, the last few decades of prosperity have righted the injustice these city people suffered, but at the cost of the breakup of their group life

The challenge now is to maintain momentum; to use these iconic projects as a foundation upon which culture-led regeneration can undermine those aspects of social polarisation that are so often the inheritable consequent pf post-industrial developments of this kind^[172]

Restoring significant shared meanings for many neglected urban spaces involves claiming the entire cultural landscape as an important part of history, not just its architectural monuments - Hayden et al 1996^[173]

Public space constitutes a window into the city’s soul - Zuni 1995^[174]

Home

‘I never saw this strange dwelling again. Indeed, as I see it now, the way it appeared to my child’s eye, it is not a building, but quite dissolved and distributed inside me: here one room, there another, and here a bit of corridor which, however, does not connect the two rooms, but is conserved in me in fragmentary form. Thus the whole thing is scattered about inside me, the rooms, the stairs that descended with such ceremonious slowness, others, narrow cages that mounted in a spiral movement, in the darkness of which we advanced like the blood in our veins’^[175]

Is spatial imaginary capable of being imbued with feelings of belonging, intimacy, and safety, and a site where the physical realities of space and materials, power relations, economics hold sway, home can be defined in terms of the living that takes place there^[176]

Artists have the capacity to revitalise the contemporary relevance of preserving historic homes, which can be perceived as elitist, insular, and old-fashioned, providing dull, predictable or disappointing experiences^[177]

Artists can re-energise pre-existing stories, deconstruct them, or create new stories, allowing the visitor to emotionally connect with the domestic imaginary conjured by the home. By exposing domestic complexities, artists reveal the real life messiness of the process of home^[178]

Artists can challenge us to rethink the history of the domestic by asking who holds the authority to recreate the past^[179]

Folly / Pavilion

In the language of architecture, perhaps the most poetic words we have are 'pavilion' and 'folly'. Both imply a leap beyond the practical, beyond the 'drains' that conceptual artist Joseph Kosuth once good-humouredly proposed as the dividing line between art and architecture. The etymology of both words is fascinating: 'pavilion' comes from the Old French 'paveillon' and the Latin 'papilio', meaning 'butterfly', but also 'tent'; and the word 'folly' from the Old French 'folie', meaning 'madness', but in modern French also 'delight' and 'favourite dwelling'.

For German curator Nikolaus Hirsch, who spent more than a year examining the potential of the folly in architecture and other disciplines, it is the light touch of 'madness' that distinguishes it from its more serious sister, the pavilion. But it is 'an intelligent madness', such as Lewis Carroll might have approved of, in which the 'suspension' of reason and function opens the door to imagination and experimentation: a 'foolishness' that has in its possession the elusive power of ambivalence, and therefore freedom.^[180]

Victor Pasmore's post-industrial pavilion made an artificial garden out of the urban industrial zone in the North East of England where Jane and Louise Wilson grew up. Its modernist design was a utopic attempt to create recreation where there was industrialization. His restorative gesture addressed what continues to be a problem today. Urban regeneration is now a social and political issue at a global level. As artists brought up in a place that faced this issue early, the Wilson sisters are particularly sensitive to this landscape^[181]

A cinematic inscription of pavilion architecture, Jane and Louise Wilson's A Free and Anonymous Monument is a metaphoric graffito. It is itself an act of appropriation, not only of the Apollo Pavilion as an artistic matrix but of the entirety of its post-industrial region. It is furthermore an intimate appropriation, since it is an act of love for the place of the artists' youth^[182]

It is a game in which all these un-dead, un-discarded fragments of the Pavilion's original brilliance are hidden from view, allowing everyone to pretend they did not exist, while their continued existence is ensured all the same. These hidden items are the architectural equivalents of the eponymous picture in Oscar Wilde's Portrait of Dorian Gray.

In the eyes of the people in charge of maintaining the building, it is as though the dilapidated pieces of velvet, glass or travertine, by virtue of having once been part of the Pavilion's material substance, somehow magically retain the structure's soul: in other words, the essence of Mies van der Rohe's critical programme.’^[183]

Typologically, the pavilion (alongside follies, public art installations, and other temporary structures) has a long history of both subtly and aggressively occupying space and time; as objects, pavilions often act as harbingers of a not-too-distant future or a forgotten, even mythical, past. Such typological and formal experimentation leads to progressive speculation, pro and con, about the inherent capacity of a pavilion to reorganise, index, and affect a much larger area and condition than its own limited site. In this sense, the pavilion must be - quite literally - "far-fetched.* - Urban Follies: Technology and the Apolitical. Parsa Khalili and Alexander Maymind

I like these strange monoliths that sit in this no place - Tacita Dean on the Kent (?) sound mirrors, aware that ‘no place’ is the literally meaning of utopia^[184]

These special, usually temporary and usually non utilitarian environments assemble and disassemble certain types of acting, certain patterns of behaviour^[185]

It is becoming increasingly difficult to find meaning and value in our culture, particularly in architecture. Things ephemeral, fragmented, to do with events and spectacles, seem more authentic than those which try to establish some artificial grounding^[187]

The pavilions are not built as lecture theatres or viewing spaces, though they house increasingly important cafe/bar facilities and a regular program of concerts, film screenings and talks.^[188]

They act as both test sites and places built as trade pitches- advertisements for their author’s skills and ideas, intentionally and necessarily ephemeral^[189]

The world exhibitions were training schools in which the masses, barred from consuming, learn empathy with exchange value ‘look at everything, touch nothing’^[191]

They have become participation machines - that is, temporary locations that provide the statistical and methodological fodder for our current century’s obsessive reformulation of participation as a guarantor of quantified social impact^[192]

[Your Black Horizon Art Pavilion: Olafur Eliasson and David Adjaye, Thyssen-Bornemisza Art Contemporary. Commissioned by Francesca von Habsburg] (conceived as part of) ‘a constellation of stand-alone art spaces dispersed across the world’^[193]

For most pavilions the requirement is to provide both types of participation - isolated/ immersive and social/immersive - hence the contradictory and ambivalent nature of the pavilion’s contemporary politics^[194]

This project [Black Horizon Pavilion] celebrates impermanence .. I do not want to allow something that is inherently private and fluid to freeze into a structure that can only be institutionalised and/or nationalised. When this happens to a collection, a certain chill sets in that never existed before and it begins to distance itself from the intimate realm of the private which should remain its essence .. regardless of the mere scale, the very spirit of what was once a passionate vision becomes rigid and lifeless [Francesca von Habsburg]^[195]

I [Jude Kelly] believe that cultural palaces need to continually dissolve because they’re only containers, and actually it’s the ideas inside, bursting forward, that are most relevant^[196]

The pavilion is a very interesting choice, precisely because it is not a house. If I am not mistaken, its etymological origin is the word papillon, French for butterfly, and if we think of the life cycle of the butterfly, we remember at some point it was not a butterfly but a cocoon. For me, architecture is the cocoon, and the pavilion helps to transgress this very clear boundary between the little animal inside the cocoon and the world outside [Jude Kelly]^[197]

I [Francesca von Habsburg] like the idea of satellite pavilions and an international program of rotation since one can share the broader resources and curatorial expertise with communities that would not otherwise have that type of exposure. It can provide a shortcut to creating independent institutes of contemporary art, by example and not by preaching^[198]

[David Adjaye] we as architects are always dealing with this issue of having to make buildings that have within them innately this idea of flexibility, I think we are fascinated by projects that resist that, that have a kind of entropic effect.^[199]

An increasing claim is made within the art and architecture community for the benefits of temporary building structures (stages, platforms) as aesthetic and discursive structures^[200]

These inventive spaces suggest to any potential visitor that they may be at once part of the team, part of the spectacle, unnecessary, and/ or completely ‘at home’^[201]

As capsules of contemporary cultural production, pavilions combine the democratic desires and capital aspirations of interdisciplinary aesthetic production in an exemplary fashion.^[202]

It might be said that pavilions make experiential phantoms of all of us, in the sense that our experience is spectral or partial alongside (and in collaboration with) that of the designer, indicating at once a shared or equitable capacity and a loss of equal part^[203]

It is clear with these pavilions that the viewer remains the viewer and the author remains the author, and the curator arranges the architecture as a microeconomic example of business as usual^[204]

Architecture

In 1889, the novelist Joris-Karl Huysmans had delighted in the obliteration of the obsolete architecture of Paris: "Fire is the essential artist of our time." By 1919, Kazimir Malevich could imagine a more general conflagration: "Let all periods burn, as one dead body." Theodor W. Adorno concurred: "This downfall is the goal of every work of art, in that it seeks to bring death to all others."5 A whole tradition of destructive art ensues: the violently self-harming machinery of Jean Tinguely, the faint bruise of Robert Rauschenberg's Erased de Kooning Drawing, Marcel Duchamp's declaration: "Use a Rembrandt as an ironing board^[205]

However, the limited accounts of façadism in the fields of architecture, planning, and conservation are far from positive. Architectural discourse refers to it as

(architecture [that] is reduced to an image', a process of devitalisation, comparable to mummification, where the internal organs are removed and the skin only remains:" In urban conservation, it is being described as a 'compromise solution', " or in more negative terms such as 'failures of town planning management', 13 and 'adaptive reuse gone wild'^[206]

As stated most explicitly in the ICOMOS Charter 'Principles for the Analysis, Conservation and Structural Restoration of Architectural Heritage of 2003:

The value of architectural heritage is not only in its appearance, but also in the integrity of all its components as a unique product of the specific building technology of its time. In particular the removal of the inner structures maintaining only the façades does not fit the conservation criteria^[207]

The suffix '-ism' is used to point to a doctrine, theory or religion; an adherent system or class of principles. 2 Hence, façadism can be described as an extreme, or dogmatic, approach to the built environment, in which the façade prevails over other architectural elements. Building on the figurative meaning of the word'façade", façadism can also be interpreted as an approach that seeks to hide an actual condition with a false mask^[208]

Adolf Loos, the forerunner of modern architecture, states, "I write only for people who possess a modern sensibility... I do not write for the people consumed by nostalgia for the Renaissance or the Rococo."^[209]

In adjustable, movable glass-covered dwellings of the kind since built by Loos and Le Corbusier. It is no coincidence that glass Is such a hard, smooth material to which nothing can be fixed. A cool and sober material Into the bargain. Objects made of glass have no "aura." Glass is, In general, the enemy of secrets. It is also the enemy of possession. The great writer André Gide once said, "Everything I wish to own becomes opaque to me."^[210]

This has now been achieved by Scheerbart, with his glass, and by the Bauhaus, with Its steel. They have created rooms in which it is hard to leave traces. *It follows from the foregoing," Scheerbart declared a good twenty years ago, "that we can surely talk about a 'culture of glass.' The new glass-milieu will transform humanity utterly. And now It remains only to be wished that the new glass-culture will not encounter too many enemies."^[211]

‘American architecture by the emergence and reemergence of numerous historical revivals based on European styles and regional traditions. The end result was often a structure that was characterized by the simultaneous use of architectural elements and furnishings representing the fashions of several different times and places. By the last decades of the nineteenth century, professional architects began to abhor this eclecticism’^[212]

‘Wharton's positive assessment of French architecture and decorative arts was not limited to The Decoration of Houses or her other works of nonfiction. Addressing potential authors in The Writing of Fiction. Wharton contended that "character and scenic detail" were "in fact one" in the best novels. She believed that the "impression produced by a landscape, a street or a house should always, to the novelist, be an event in the history of the soul." In her own fictional works, Wharton carefully correlated her characters' social standing and behavior with the built environment they inhabited’^[213]

‘In The Age of Innocence, Wharton used architectural representations as clear guideposts for interpreting the society about which she wrote. The author characterized late-nineteenth-century America, where the novel was set, as "a kind of hieroglyphic world, where the real thing was never said or done or even thought, but only represented by a set of arbitrary signs’^[214]

‘In her 1919 book French Ways and Their Meaning (figure T), which she described as a

"little monument to the glory of France,** Wharton concluded:

as long as enriching life is more than preserving it, as long as culture is superior to business efficiency, as long as poetry and imagination and reverence are higher and more precious elements of civilisation [sic] than telephones or plumbing. as long as truth is more bracing than hypocrisy, and wit more wholesome than dullness [sic], so long will France remain greater than any nation that has not her ideals’^[216]

'Modern' approaches to conservation in the UK derive from the moralistic and didactic nineteenth century writings of John Ruskin and William Morris. Clear principles of intervention were evolved, which remain orthodox in architectural conservation. Stress is placed on the sanctity of authentic historic fabric and the custodianship of buildings for future generations. Thus, prior to the 1960s the preservation of historic buildings was largely considered in terms of a moral cultural imperative, important in itself, rather than in terms of any wider economic or social utility those structures might have’^[217]

‘The historic environment has become an integral part of conceptions of the consumer society, derided by Hewison (1987) and considered by Urry (1995: 21)

to be 'stage-sets within which consumption can take place'^[218]

‘The need for such repositioning received new impetus with the shift

from a Conservative to a modernising Labour Government in 1997, and the perceived

threats associated with this change. For example, in its Prospectus the government-commissioned Urban Task Force (UTF) made reference to historic buildings being a restraint on regeneration (Urban Task Force, 1998). This provoked an immediate and

well-organised response from both English Heritage and other conservation groups

(English Heritage, 1998; SAVE Britain's Heritage, 1998) and the final report of the UTF was noticeably more positive about the historic environment (Urban Task Force,

1999)’^[219]

Commenting on the relative

merits of different parts of the area, one respondent stated 'its our view that Grainger

Town is too big, and that Newcastle has got a few jewels in its crown, like Grey Street and Grey's Monument, and perhaps the top end of Grainger Street... to make the best of the jewels in the crown they have to forego some of the less important parts, like I still believe its crazy to spend a grant of £35,000/ flat in Clayton Street to create a poor flat, when Mr. Barratt could have built a perfectly good one for €30,000...' (Property surveyor)^[220] 17

‘Furthermore, frustration at conservationist attitudes was sometimes expressed, 'I can't understand the quest to retain it when they're starting to fall down because no-one wants to use them... I can't understand how there's often a mode of

thought that prefers to see the vacancies and the dereliction, rather than modification'

English Partnerships officer)’^[221]

"Everyday camouflage, as it is identified here, is a strategy for concealing potentially problematic or undesirable building content by means of contrived architectural simulation. Examples include the concealment of new construction— especially urban infrastructure installations--behind traditional building facades; clandestine religious groups operating under the cover of "normal" secular architecture; banality concealed behind spectacular architecture; wealth disguised behind an image of poverty; or buildings whose contentious histories are "cleansed" by the application of new exterior surface materials, More generally, it is possible to identify three main cultural issues which scon to prompt applications of everyday camouflage: modernity, class, and memory’^[222]

‘A building is like a soap bubble, ' wrote Le Corbusier in 1927. "This building is perfect and harmonious if the breath has been evenly distributed from the inside. The exterior is the result of the interior." (5) This notion of a more precise functional form, in conjunction with transparency, would become a hallmark of architectural modernism. Yet modernism's abandonment of the notion of the building type in favor of physiognomic form, coupled with literal transparency, renders the city itself much more polymorphous and difficult to navigate; precisely the basis of much of the humor in Jacques Tati's 1967 film "Playtime." As Lewis Mumford writes, *In the past half-century, architecture has turned from enclosure to exposure: a virtual replacement of the wall by the window."^[223]

‘Toward the end of the neo-classical period, at the height of European colonial expansion worldwide, a cosmic image of the capital city as an architecturally unified entity began to take hold in the imagination of rulers architects even if this image was only a façade, Leonardo Benevolo has observed that "many of the most admired complexes of the late eighteenth century in England-the Circus and Royal Crescent in Bath U. Wood, 1764 and 1769), the famous squares of Bloomsbury (1775-1827) and, later, Regent's Park

U. Nash, 1812)- consisted in the superimposition of a uniform architecture upon a number of separate houses; symmetry and unity of perspective, originally the elements of structural planning, had now become the vehicle for mere external uniformity." (9) But whereas late eighteenth-century urban consistency is intended as the architectural expression of a consolidation of power by a ruling class, postmodern urban consistency can be seen more as a reactionary response to an emergent cultural pluralism and aesthetic heterogeneity; a side-effect of growing economic globalization and trans-national migration’^[224]

‘As Roy Behrens writes: "Art portrays a unified form and-however daringly-always distinguishes figure from ground in order to utter some "thing," while camouflage always subverts these laws in order to say "no thing." How do we judge these works in architectural terms-are they necessarily "bad design" because of their fakery, banality, lack of integrity— because they are, in effect, simulacra? Can buildings designed to dissimulate attention even be considered "architecture," or will they always be "mere" buildings, albeit unusual ones? Must architecture always look like "architecture"?’^[225]

‘Everyday camouflage "appears" to occur mainly in technologically advanced urban societies that have undergone massive modernization in recent decades. It is no coincidence that its rise coincides with one of a hegemonic mass-media that employs urban imagery to promote lifestyle consumption. The city is revealed by this phenomenon to be a space of illusion and desire; an illusion that must be maintained, at times, by highly theatrical means. The fact that camouflage, which is adversarial by nature, occurs in the purportedly more civilized realm of the city says perhaps the most about the degree to which the city, as a concept, is shrouded in myth’^[226]

Ruins

‘Art and ruins have entered into a close alliance, with artists regularly called in to ‘do something’ with unused yet still viable places that nobody else seems either foolhardy or imaginative enough to cope with’^[227]

‘There are displaced ruins too; New York's splendid Neo-Classic Pennsylvania Station, built in 1910 and demolished in 1964, was dumped out here, on the banks of the Hackensack: its stone eagles, angels, and thirty-five-ton columns left to confuse some future antiquarian. Sullivan tracks down, discarded in the yard of a trucking firm, a few massive discs from the columns, and feels, he writes, as though he has "laid hands on a piece of re-ruined Rome."’^[228] 133 objects

For Adorno, in analogous fashion, the most authentic works of modernity are those which are objectively and formally determined by the ruinous state of the present. The architectural ruin seems to hover in the background of an aesthetic imagination that privileges fragment allegory, collage and montage, freedom from ornament and reduction of the material’^[229]

Indeed, romantic ruins seem to guarantee origins. They promise authenticity, immediacy and authority. However, there is a paradox. In the case of ruins, what is allegedly present and transparent whenever authenticity is claimed is present only as an absence. It is the imagined present of a past that can now be grasped only in its decay. Any ruin posits the problem of a double exposure to the past and the present’^[230]

Adolf Loos's dictum "the house should be silent to the outside; inside it should rere all is wealth"^[231]

As stated most explicitly in the ICOMOS Charter 'Principles for the Analysis, Conservation and Structural Restoration of Architectural Heritage of 2003: The value of architectural heritage is not only in its appearance, but also in the integrity of all its components as a unique product of the specific building technology of its time. In particular the removal of the inner structures maintaining only the façades does not fit the conservation criteria^[232]

The suffix '-ism' is used to point to a doctrine, theory or religion; an adherent system or Class of principles. Hence, façadism can be described as an extreme, or dogmatic, approach to the built environment, in which the façade prevails over other architectural elements. Building on the figurative meaning of the word 'facade", façadism can also be interpreted as an approach that seeks to hide an actual condition with a false mask^[233]

Against this idea of a deep authenticity embodied in the ruins of a glorified past, I posit the idea of the authentic ruin as a product of modernity itself rather than as a royal road toward some uncontaminated origin’^[234]

Ruin must be a fantasy, veiled by the mind's dark imaginings: in the objects that we see before us, we get to agree with St Thomas Aquinas, that quae enim diminutae sunt, hoc ipso turpia sunt, and to feel that, in beauty, wholeness is all. But such wholesome hankerings are, it seems likely, merely a phase of our fearful and fragmented age^[235]

That seems to me to be at the core of a Romantic relationship to landscape - the artist going out into the world to reduce their objective distance’ MAYBE PUT THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE New Romantic - the work of Cyrien Gaillard connects the ruin of modernist urbanism with the monuments of ancient civilisations’

‘In the 18th and 19th centuries, ruins were added to landscapes in order to provide a thrill of horror at decay and degradation’ New Romantic - the work of Cyprien Gaillard connects the ruin of modernist urbanism with the monuments of ancient civilisations’

The willing embrace of decay is a cultural luxury. Only those privileged with enough social, cultural, or material capital can afford to dwell so conspicuously, and so proudly, in the middle of shambles^[236]

What was last week a drab little house has become a steep flight of stairs winding up in the open between gaily-coloured walls, tiled lavatories, interiors bright and intimate like a Dutch picture or a stage set; the stairway climbs up and up, undaunted, to the roofless summit where it meets the sky. The house has put on melodrama; people stop to stare; here is a domestic scene wide open for all to enjoy. Tomorrow or tonight, the gazers feel, their own dwelling may be even as this. Last night the house was scenic; flames leaping to the sky; today it is squalid and morne, but out of its dereliction it flaunts the flags of what is left. [...]^[237]

More than that, they can symbolically dissociate decay from misery in the way that others - ethnic minorities, recent migrants, of the very poor - cannot .. While they do not cancel out the positive potential of counter preservation, they do limit it in important ways^[238]

[Decay pride Counterpreservation begins with the refusal to restore buildings and sites that are weathered, decrepit, or ruined. When groups and individuals first occupy these buildings, or consider them as a part of designs and interventions, they encounter decay as an existing condition - a condition that is not necessarily sought out or artificially cultivated, but which is taken as an essential material and historical datum^[239]

LOOK UP REFERENCE 9 FOR MORE ARTICLES ON RUINATION

Erasure is never merely a matter of making things dis-appear: there is always some detritus strewn about in the aftermath, some bruising to the surface from which word or image has been removed, some reminder of the violence done to make the world look new again.

Whether rubbed away, crossed out, or reinscribed, the disappeared entity has a habit of returning, ghostlike: fonly in the marks that usurp its place and attest to its passing.^[240]

Urban spelunking and ruin porn attest to the grip of destroyed, mysterious, and menacing environments on a public that consumes these spaces by using them for personal exploits, which are recorded in photographs, videos, and verbal testimonies^[241]

Counterpreservation is neither Ruin Lust nor ruin porn, but it does have strong affinities with Svetlana Boym’s idea of ruinophilia. For Boym, the ruin gaze is one attuned to the temporal and spatial disjunctures of modernity, acknowledging the unavoidable uncertainties and gaps in historical knowledge. Boym’s ruinophilia is not the same as the pastime of urban explorers; the ruin gaze she describes is epistemological and ethical, and relates to an emancipatory political and aesthetic project^[242]

[Boym’s concept of two modes of nostalgia] restorative nostalgia manifests itself in total reconstructions of monuments of the past, while reflective nostalgia lingers on ruins, the patina of time and history in the dreams of another place and another time^[243]

Reflective nostalgia not only engages the past critically, but also propels it toward unrealised futures; it is therefore utopian^[244]

Preservation and restoration tend for the most part to erase these marks. More recently, less conventional refurbishment projects have taken an approach variously called combined, integrationist-historical, juxtapositional, or archeological for the respectful incorporation of material remnants and traces of the past^[245]

“Wounds of remembrance” [marks, bullet damage etc found ion building facades in Berlin] 28

Foster preserved other marks of the past ‘arguing that these traces comprised the record of the building’s history’ including ‘rubble arches .. a crumbled stone frieze .. disfigured stonewalls .. fragments of nineteenth century holdings and mason’s marks’^[246]

‘Architectural citations” Rolf J. Goebel - ‘Goebel argues that fragments and signs of destruction, when incorporated into new designs, motion toward the past without allowing for retrieval’ Counterpreservationas Concept^[247]

‘Hegelian notions of the dialectical progression of world history’ that imply ‘that each style is singularly connected to the historical period it is supposed to represent’^[248]

If architectural citations are akin to academic quoting of historic vestiges, then this more radical kind of adaptive reuse is a creative rewriting of buildings^[249]

Jorge Ottero-Pailos describes as the ‘stamp of incompleteness’^[250]

Counterpreservation does not place the ‘burden of memory’ in spaces themselves, but on those who use, transform, observe, and reflect on these spaces.^[251]

The countermovement thus flouts any number of cherished memorial conventions: its aim is not to console but to provoke; not to remain fixed but to change; not to be everlasting but to disappear; not to be ignored by passers by but to demand interactions; not to remain pristine but to invite its own violation and desanctification; not to to be accept graciously the burden of memory but to throw it back at the town’s feet^[252]

The cultivated of grime, rust, and fragmentation betrays a romance of glumness, the eternally returning fascination with ruins, which Walter Benjamin famously called ‘irresistible decay’^[253]

Counterpreservation is not immune to the seductions of semi-destroyed structures, of surfaces slowly carved out by time and use - or violently torn by aggression, haunted by the signs of the past even when the memory has faded^[254]

As Elizabeth Spelman notes, ‘Ruins are not just any state of disrepair’ .. ‘Ruinlust tours don’t include states of urban blight’ Spleen implies a distinction between, say, the attractive ruins of classical antiquity and the repellent sites of inner-city despair^[255]

There is a difference between a state of disrepair to which one eagerly rushes and a state of disrepair form which one desperately flees^[256]

Ruskin does not strive to isolate stylistic periods for buildings, but describes the different contributions from each century, which he calls ‘interpolations’^[257]

Counterpreservation is at once a form of preservation that engages social groups and invites a critical stance, and a utopian conception that can never be fully realised. If a building were left completely vulnerable at the action of time, it would be completely destroyed. This would also pose practical difficulties to most quotidian uses; the building would become an aesthetic or poetic object detached from function or utility^[258]

The idea of counterpreservation may thus figure as a ‘social space’ in what Lebebvre identifies as the ‘potentialities - of works of reappropriating - existing to begin with in the artistic sphere but responding above all to the demands of a body ‘transported’ outside itself in space, a body which by putting up resistance inaugurates the project of a different space (either the space of a counter-culture, or a counter-space in the sense of an initially utopian alternative to actually existing in ‘real’ space’^[259]

Counterpreservation points the way towards a communicative architecture whose ever-changing quality lies not so much in crumbling walls and rushing mullions, but in the ever-changing nature of the social realm^[260]

In the place of decay, preservation and conservation are replaced by fragmentation and dissolution. By considering how monuments fall from historic significance and become kitsch artefacts I put forward the view that ru- f ins evade a static, and thus nostalgic, image of the past by rendering memory ambiguous. As the ethic of rational preservation is disputed, the chapter and the book conclude by advocating a model of critical memory^[261]

‘To delight in the aspects of sentient ruin might appear a heartless pastime, and the pleasure, I confess, shows the note of perversity. The sombre and the hard are as common an influence from southern things as the soft and the bright, I think; sadness rarely fails to assault a northern observer when he misses what he takes for comfort. Beauty is no compensation for the loss, only making it more poignant’^[262]

Psyche

Each person’s self has become his principle burden; to know oneself has become an end, instead of a means through which to know the world^[263]

The crowd is his element, as the air is that of birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the infinite. ^[264]

It [George Elliot’s Middlemarch] set up the cultural terms for discussing a class society, terms which are still in use. Arnold's was the infamous division of English society into the Barbarians (the English aristocracy and landed gentry), the Philistines (the urban middle classes) and the Populace (the working-class)^[265]

The more we have learnt to understand all images, words and sounds as always mediated, the more it seems we desire the authentic and the immediate. A gap opens up between intellectual insight into the obsolescence of authenticity and the lifeworld’s desire for the authentic - cuisine, clothing, identity. This longing can be seen as media culture’s romantic longing for its other. Reality TV is its pathetic expression’^[267]

The more privatised the psyche, the less it is stimulated, and the more difficult it is for us to feel or express feeling^[268]

Community is an act of mutual self- disclosure^[269] (check up on this quote) Sennett

Getting your head together before you act - unwitting intensification of the imbalance between an empty public domain and an intimate domain overburdened with tasks it could not fulfil^[270]

When we choose to make our living on the basis of doing what we want, we are required to get our act together and get things done, in any place, at any time. Are you ready? I ask you and I’m sure that you’re as ready as you’ll ever be to perform, prove yourself, do things and go places^[271]

It is we, the creative types — who invent jobs for ourselves by exploring and exploiting out talents to perform small artistic and intellectual miracles on a daily basis^[272]

When we perform, we generate communication and thereby build forms of communality^[273]

Kirkegaard proposed the view that only those who faced up to the full challenge of the either/or, and based his life on a rigorous and binding choice, truly chose to choose (and thus acted ethically) Anyone who deflected this choice refrained from choosing at all and merely dabbled in the boundless sphere of inconsequential possibilities (the sphere of the aesthetic) [Even Kirkegaard himself cannot be trusted on this point. In his boundless irony he voiced this view (that only the rigorous choice between either/or qualified as a true choice) solely through fictional persona he invented in his writing, none of whom can be unambiguously identified as expressing his own convictions.]^[274]

‘I can’t get it now but I can get it’ Von Sudenfed, Fledermaus Can’t Get It, 2007^[275]

We must devise counter-spells [to theme-lags create by commuting, travelling for work in a capitalist system and therefore the effect it has on intimacy] and learn to perform a kind of relational voodoo whereby we invoke the ghosts of the absent others wherever we end up being, to share our life with them^[276]

For each of us, perhaps the hardest and bitterest experience possible: the experience of potentiality^[277]

[High performance culture] It is based on the illusion that each individual should be able to generate inexhaustible potency solely from his own resources. This illusion is as self-aggrandising as it is fatal, because it is only through assuming you had such inexhaustible potency that you willingly accept the request to prove it, then take it to heart when you are reprimanded for failing to do so^[278]

To feel inspired [by the performance and potential of others] essentially means to realise I can because you do^[279]

The space her [Frances Stark] work opens up is a continuum in which other voices resonate through her voice, but where her voice remains very distinctively hers. The oedipal hierarchies of godfathers and disciples, progenitors and epigones are effectively toppled in this continuum, where the ghosts can only speak when the one who summons them speaks too. In this space such hierarchies are dismantled and displaced by a form of communally and conviviality with the ghosts of those whose presence may be felt through a work^[280]

In a contemporary high performance culture, to draw a line somewhere, stop work and cut off communication at some point —to reserve part of your life for taking care of yourself— has indeed become a radical thing to do because it effectively means you are taking yourself out of circulation. You deliberately hold back resources, free time and potentials that could be used productively^[281]

Get on the fucking block and fuck - Henry Miller^[282]

These memories cling to the words like a shadow that gives them depth despite their emptiness^[283]

For Heidegger, "to be" human is to understand and make sense of things, to have things count and matter to us in our everyday lives. This is why he says, "to exist is essentially ... to understand" (Heidegger 1982, p. 276, my emphasis) The desynchroniza-tion characteristic of major depression destroys this everyday understanding of things by stripping away the intelligibility of the world, effectively bleaching out the qualitative significance and radiance of things. This leaves the sufferer trapped in a meaningless present, with no future and no past^[284]

As Heidegger writes,

"Temporality temporalizes, and indeed it temporalizes possible ways of itself.

These make possible the multiplicity of Dasein's modes of being"

(1962, p. 377). And Hughes’ article shows the extent to which depression can shatter this disclosive movement, leaving the sufferer abandoned in a meaningless temporal void. One of the aims of therapy, then, is to work with the patient to restore the temporal unity and cohesion that gives meaning to things by recreating the tacit rhythms of everyday life and slowly reestablishing the patient's orientation towards future projects, making it possible for things to light up again with value and significance. When this occurs, the patient's ability-to-be can be restored. 219^[285]

The indifference so many of us suffer from in the present age is not just the result of cultural pessimism. We live in an epoch where "such childish categories as pessimism and optimism have long become laughable" (p. 40). Yet, like the world-collapse of anxiety that can overtake Dasein, the ground mood of deep boredom also opens up a nihilating space, not for the depressed individual but for a depressed epoch. It is a space that holds the potential to usher in, what Heidegger calls, a "new beginning" (neuer Anfang), a collective transformation whereby we recover our connection to the fragile and mysterious unfolding of being and save ourselves from our planetary emergency^[286]

For what is the value of all our culture if it is divorced from experience? Where it all leads when that experience Is simulated or obtained by underhanded means is something that has become clear to us from the horrific mishmash of styles and ideologies produced during the last century - too clear for us not to think It a matter of honesty to declare our bankruptcy. Indeed (let's admit it), our poverty of experience is not merely poverty on the personal level, but poverty of human experience in general. Hence, a new kind of barbarism.

Barbarism? Yes, Indeed. We say this in order to introduce a new, positive concept of barbarism. For what does poverty of experience do for the barbarian? It forces him to start from scratch; to make a new start; to make a little go a long way; to begin with a little and build up further, looking neither left nor right. Among the great creative spirits, there have always been the Inexorable ones who begin by clearing a tabula rasa. They need a drawing table: they were constructors. Such a constructor was Descartes, who required nothing more to launch his entire philosophy than the single certitude, "I think, therefore I am." And he went on from there^[287]

Poverty of experience. This should not be understood to mean people are yearning for new experiences. No, they long to free themselves from experience; they long for a world in which they can make such pure and decided use of their poverty - their outer poverty, and ultimately also their Inner poverty

that it will lead to something respectable. Nor are they Ignorant or Inexperienced. Often we could say the very opposite. They have "devoured" everything, both culture and people," and they have had such a surfeit that it has exhausted them. No one feels more caught out than they by Scheerbart's words: "You are all so tired. Just because you have failed to concentrate your thoughts on simple but

ambitious plan. Tiredness is followed by sleep, and then It is not uncommon for a dream to

make up for the sadness and discouragement of the day - a dream that shows us in its realised form the simple but magnificent existence for which the energy is lacking’’^[288]

We have become Impoverished. We have given up one portion of the human heritage after another, and have often left It at the pawnbroker's for a hundredth of Its true value, in exchange for the small change of "the contemporary." The economic crisis Is at the door, and behind it is the shadow of the approaching war. Holding on to things has become the monopoly of a few powerful people, who, God knows, are no more human than the many; for the most part, they are more barbaric, but not in the good way. Everyone else has to adapt - beginning anew and with few resources. They rely on the men who have adopted the cause of the absolutely new and have founded it on Insight and renunciation. In Its buildings, pictures, and stories, mankind is preparing to outlive culture, If need be. And the main thing is that is does so with a laugh. This laughter may occasionally sound barbaric.

Well and good. Let us hope that from time to time the Individual will give a little humanity to the masses, who one day will repay him with compound Interest^[289]

1911

To remember Scottish History and find comfort in it rather than celebrating purely technical innovations seemed to indicate certain insecurities of the middle classes as far as future was concerned^[290]

All these dumb witnesses of the past could be interpreted as impressive decorations on Scotland’s breast helping the others to shape their ideas of what this young and old nation was^[291]

He deplored the agitation for the chair and claimed that its establishment could only encourage regrettable nationalist sentiments. A letter to the editor of the Glasgow Herald suggested that "the best thing Me Medley can do when the Chair of Scottish History is founded, is to enrol himself as one of the first students." The exhibition went forward and Professor Medley grew a beard. - p66 The Curious Diversity, Glasgow University on Gilmorehill; the first hundred years

It contained, certainly, replicas of an old Scottish burgh and a Highland clachan.

The relevance of the Laplander and West African

settlements that turned up in it must, however, have been difficult to explain.

Visitors to the exhibition were addicted to singing "Abide with me". The melancholy strains of "Change and decay in all around I see", floated up to Gilmorehill. p67 The Curious Diversity, Glasgow University on Gilmorehill; the first hundred years

When the present is insecure memories of the past might placate people and convey a feeling of greatest which the future might deny^[292]

The Glasgow Herald emphasised the ‘larger significance’ of the History Exhibition by pointing out that the ‘ethnological things, the prehistoric relics, have been displayed as to give something like vitality to this dim past’^[293]

Who were the people who sat on this committee, what concept of Scottish Identity did they construct, and to what end? The discourse on Scottish history from around the turn of the century offers some answer to these questions^[294]

[William Smart, contemporary economist professor and supporter of creating a chair of Scottish History] By arguing along economic lines, he hoped to attract the interest of Glasgow’s business class and familiarise them with scientific research and thus rescue national history ‘from being the plaything of national passion and sometimes parochial prejudice’^[295]

Tom Johnston, leading member of the Scottish Independent Labour party and editor of its paper Forward, conceived the exhibition in class terms and called it a ‘farcical and snobbish scramble for knighthoods’ that perpetuated myths rather than reconstructed the ‘real past’. This was something the working men had to do themselves just as he expected them to construct their ‘real future’ themselves^[296]

an Clachan

Middle classes dominated ‘a large and intellectual committee’^[297] which had organised the Highland Village, this was a project of the Gaelic Association ‘An Commun Gaidhealach’ and its aim was to promote Gaelic culture and encourage Home Industries among the Gaels^[298]

The Clachan is obviously and inevitably incomplete, since it represents only the domestic and pacific side of a people who are most notable in history for the other arts and ideals than the domestic and pacific. For complete realism, the Clachan should have pikes and fire-arms in the thatch, and should ring occasionally with slogans. But frays are out of fashion …^[299]

An Clachan represented a Scottish national identity, which may be most appropriately conceived in terms of centre and periphery, i.e. the core and its Other, the periphery, and which were simultaneously defined in the categories of Romanticism. The dialectic of this process assures … that ‘Gaels (and indeed Scotland as a whole) come to live within the mental universe fashioned by their oppressors and define their own identities accordingly. As far as the Highland Ass. is concerned, it consisted exclusively of members of the Scottish middle and upper classes who were searching for a genuine Scottish identity. They constructed an image of the pure and genuine Celt in outright opposition to the industrialised and modern Anglo-Saxon or anglicised Scot who constituted the image of ‘The Other’ - an image they declined to identify themselves with. Consequently they created a Scot attired in a kilt and playing the bagpipes who was entirely and essentially different from the English. But in doing so they also depicted a Scottish way of life that was far remote from the great majority of their fellow-country men and women who lived in cities and conurbations like the Clydeside.^[300]

This, however, was only one bid for Scottish identity in the History Exhibition contest, where different images of national identity were both negotiated in discourse or realised in public space, leaving the visitors to either accept or reject them. Nonetheless, the fact that visitors greatly favoured the Highland Village, that they were emotionally attracted by this picturesque reconstruction of a primitive, though not uncivilised life style, gave it a distinct advantage over ‘realistic’ representations of Scottish history such as Professor Smart’s exhibition of his documents on the Scottish poor law^[301]

In a retrospect of the 1911 exhibition it was frankly admitted that the thrilling effects of the ancient and exotic villages pulled most visitors: ‘other features which proved exceedingly popular were the representations of Highland and ‘equatorial’ villages, the Scottish ‘toonie’ and keep, and the Japanese tea- garden’^[302] This was an important aspect of exhibitions from the late 19th century onwards because their presentations guaranteed of a large amount of visitors and such a profitable result of these highly expensive exhibitions^[303]

IDENTITIES ARE CONSTRUCTED IN DISCOURSE^[304]

The public presentation of multifarious historical relics as well as national plays appealed to visitors’ emotions and confirmed them in their Scottishness, just as encounters with natives in African and Laplander villages assured them that they were members of a civilised society despite social problems and political conflicts of contemporary Scotland. But apart from its educational effects th exhibition also functioned as a n instrument of social control where the working classes gathered for recreation and where classes and sexes met in socially accepted form^[306]

Heritage

‘All of this involves a very hierarchical view of the constitution of knowledge, and a very restricted one. Fetishizing the act of research while ignoring its conditions of existence, it takes no account of that great army of under-labourers, handmaidens and scribes who, in any given period, are the ghostly presence in historical work; nor yet of those do-it-yourself retrieval projects, such as barrow-hunting in the sixteenth century or family reconstitution today, which give new directions to writing and research, and create new landscapes for the historically minded to explore. So far as pedagogy is concerned, it allows no space for the knowledge which creeps in sideways as a by-product of studying something else: geography, for example, with whose fortunes history, ever since the Elizabethan 'discovery' of England,' has been umbilically linked; or literature, with which - in the days when the great historians were anthologized as stylists - history was freely bracketed’^[307]

Another possible starting point is local lore. Pierre Nora's multi-volume work, Les Lieux de Mémoire shows how public history can be gleaned from civic ritual, street nomenclature and literary or political statuary. But so far as unofficial knowledge and popular memory are concerned, the peculiarities of the landscape might be a better place to begin. Woods are famously the haunt of spirits; caves are smugglers' lairs. Standing stones (menhirs as they are known in Cornwall and the Derbyshire Peak) invariably have legends attached to them, rather as castles and monastic ruins do. Blasted trees, like empty houses, are often thought to be haunted. What is interesting here is the tremendous desire to turn fragments into mysteries and signs; lore is not so much passed on or transmitted as made up and amplified, until there is not a stone without a story attaching to it^[308]

One of the more remarkable additions to the ranks of Britain's memory-keepers - or notable recent augmentation of them - would be the multiplication of do-it-yourself curators and mini-museums^[309]

A historiography that was alert to memory's shadows - those sleeping images which spring to life unbidden, and serve as ghostly sentinels of our thought - might give at least as much attention to pictures as to manuscripts or print. The visual provides us with our stock figures, our subliminal points of reference, our unspoken point of address^[310]

Old houses, formerly left to decay, are now prized as living links to the past, a kind of visual equivalent to what used to be known as 'a stake in the country'. Even when houses are brand new, they cultivate a lived-in look, as epitomised by the universality of those neo-vernacular styles in which local materials, 'mature trees' and well-established shrubs give a mellow look to starter homes. Conversely, as Rachel Whiteread showed in her 1993 installation, the deserted mid-Victorian house, cut adrift from its moorings, shuttered, blind and empty - a house you could go round but not enter - is perhaps the most disturbing monument to the urban diaspora^[311]

According to Dan Cruikshank it was quite normal for eighteenth-century building contracts to specify that, where an old building was taken down, the materials should be re-used^[312]

Concrete, the wonder material of the age, was dynamic, upholding vast weights on the slenderest of podiums. Glass was an invitation to the sun.* Brick, on the other hand, was claustrophobic, trapping a building in its interior instead of letting the outside in^[313]

Timber may come from Scandinavia or the tropics, but brick is indubitably British, or more specifically - since the Scots build in granite, and the Welsh in stone - English. No other country in the world, it seems, has such a variety of building clays, or so many distinctive stocks^[314]

In any of these instances one seems to encounter what Charles Jencks, the theorist of postmodern architecture, has famously termed 'double-coding'; meanings which could be said to point simultaneously to the future and to the past^[315]

No less symptomatic than the protection of the countryside is the 'historicization' of the towns, which has nowadays replaced streamlining and modernization as the great object of municipal idealism and civic pride. Glasgow's 'Merchant City' is an apparently successful example, the restoration and refurbishment of a run-down district of sweatshops and warehouses into one that is simultaneously pre-industrial and post-modern, exorcising memories of the shipyards by resurrecting the commercial glories of the age of Adam Smith, while at the same time providing a showcase for modern fashion and a new business headquarters for information technology. 146

As for the parallel rise, especially towards the end of the decade, of do-it-yourself history, a rather different set of causes might be hypothe. sized; one in which past-present relations were reworked as a way of taking refuge from the here-and-now. It cannot be an accident that Labour history, so far as writing and often even readership was concerned, was so often in the hands of newly settled residents (the local amenity societies derived much of their energy from the same source); and that family history seems to have had a particular appeal to the geographically and socially mobile - i.e. those who, without the aid of history, were genealogical orphans. 'Feelings of rootlessness', as the family history societies themselves acknowledge, animated the new enthusiasm.29 It gave to the territorially mobile the dignity of ancient settlement, to the limited nuclear family a far-flung kinship network, and to the urban and suburban a claim to 'country' origins^[316]

One impetus for the historicist turn in national life, as also for the multiplication of retrieval projects and the growth of environmental campaigns and fears, was a vertiginous sense of disappearing worlds - or what was called in the early 1960s, when a V & A exhibition on the subject toured the country, 'Vanishing History' 30 It was amplified in the 1970s by a whole series of separation anxieties which affected now one sector of national life, now another; by the destruction or run-down of regional economies; by threats to the living environment which put the taken-for-granted at risk; and not least by the rise of a cultural nationalism which spoke to a lost sense of the indigenous^[317]

The built environment, the working ideology of the conservationists was bleakly Malthusian, picturing an overpopulated landscape in which scarce resources were constantly being depleted and forces of destruction were on the march. There were the office developers hovering like vultures and swooping down whenever there was a vacant space. There were the lax council officials, unwilling to use the protective legislation available to them; the selfish householders who carried out alterations regardless of the building's character. There were the traffic engineers, churning up the few remaining cobblestones, and putting asphalt patches in their place. Horror stories abounded: of demolition contractors doing their destructive work by dead of night, or even, where a preservation order was immovable, setting fire to historic buildings; of country-house owners threatening to turn their properties into theme parks; of priceless panelling put out to grass in a skip; of residential houses illegally converted into offices^[318]

The number of listed buildings (i.e. 'Buildings of Special Architectural and Historical Interest') increases by leaps and bounds: it has more than doubled since 1982, and now approaches half a million (1920s council houses in Edinburgh are among those which have recently been added).43 Victorian buildings which quaked before the bulldozer are listed for preservation as a matter of course, and the very features which condemned them in the 1960s as dust-traps are now advertised as

'original'. Erstwhile slums, lovingly rehabilitated, are exhibited and sold as 'period' residences - rather as mews cottages were in 1920s Mayfair and Chelsea. The terraced house - the English terraced house as it is called by a recent and admiring historian* - could be said to enjoy parity of esteem with the stately home^[319]

This new version of the national past is not only more democratic than earlier ones but also more feminine and domestic. It privileges the private over the public sphere, and sees people as consumers rather than- or as well as - producers. Hearth and home, rather than sceptre and sword, become the symbols of national existence; samplers and patchwork quilts the tradition-bearers^[320]

The historicist turn in British culture coincided with the decline of Labour as a mass membership party, with the demise - in Britain as in other countries - of socialism as a worker's faith, and with the Labour Party's loss of historic confidence in the necessity and justice of its own cause - a disillusion compounded by a growing alienation from, and disenchantment with, its own electorate. At the same time the break-up of the two-camp 'us' and 'them' divisions in British society, the fragmentation of class into a thousand different splinters, the crumbling of the barrier between 'high' and 'low' culture and the growth of a two-way traffic between them, robbed the 'popular' of its subversive potential and even allowed it to be annexed to the Conservative cause^[321]

Tower Hill Pageant, the latest of those 'dark ride' museums which bring the excitements (and terrors) of the Ghost Train to the exhibition of archaeological finds.

Here scholarship of the kind more familiar in the cabinet of curiosities has joined hands with the new styles of showmanship generated by Disneyland and the American theme parks. The inspiration, it seems, of curators of the Museum of London, who have used it to display some of the more recent findings of their archaeological digs, the Pageant is a systematic exercise in time-travelling, starting with a descent which marks a journey back in time, and then underground offers a series of tableaux vivants recapturing, in artist's impression or models, London's evolution as a river crossing, a port town and a capital city^[322]

In a phrase which has been adopted by a whole succession of retrieval projects, from canal restoration and steam preservation in the 1950s to the Heritage centres and town trails of today, it is 'living history'. Objects must be seen and felt and touched if they are not to remain inanimate, and restored to their original habitat, or some lifelike replica of it, if they are to be intelligible in their period setting. Events should be re-enacted in such a way as to convey the lived experience of the past. Country houses should be in family occupation, if visitors are to sample their true quality^[323]

'Living history' - despite, or perhaps because of, the oxymoron - is a trope which shows no sign of exhausting its imaginative appeal. Schoolteachers continue to champion it, as they have done ever since the Schools Council History Projects of the 1970s, as an example of learning by doing. It has been incorporated into the machineries and strategies of 'heritage interpretation'^[324]

At the museums where 'living history' has been adopted as a watchword by go-ahead curators it takes the form of audio-visual display, using artists' impressions, photographic blow-ups or replicas to exhibit what ought to be there but is not and contextualise the artefacts in a narrative whole. Instead of being temples for the worship of the past, these museums make a fetish of informality, discarding glass cases in favour of free-standing exhibits which ideally can be handled and touched, encouraging visitors to hob-nob with the demonstrators, and replacing galleries with intimate 'rooms'. Instead of a solemn hush, the visitor is assailed by a cacophony of sounds^[325]

The revival of historic ports, and the 'heritage' rehabilitation of abandoned waterfronts - whether at the docks or on the canalsides and canal basins - is also a transnational phenomenon. There is an elective affinity, here, between Albert Docks, Liverpool, now a Grade I listed building, and the centre of a museum, art gallery and leisure complex which attracts more visitors than Blackpool Tower - and such developments as Fishermen's Wharf, San Francisco^[326]

André Malraux in his years as de Gaulle's minister of culture, | it combines the visual sensation of the light-show with an al fresco dramatic entertainment highlighting great moments in a building's past

- for example, in the case of St Paul's, the Great Fire of 1666 and the funeral of Lord Nelson. It was imported into Britain as early as 1958, and in the subsequent decade was staged at the old royal palace of Hampton Court and at half a dozen cathedrals (Durham, Canterbury, York, Hereford, Westminster Abbey and St Paul's). This is possibly the origin of the floodlighting of historic churches today^[327]

In 1999 the centrepiece of the extravaganza marking the centenary at Blackpool Tower is speculated on whether it was a subliminal influence in the 19708 and 1980s floodlighting of re-Victorianized town halls and pubs. What is beyond question is that the light up the Thames' spectacular, which embraced a two-mile stretch of the river from Vauxhall Bridge to Lambeth and left as its substantial legacy the night time illumination of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, the Victoria Embankment and the Southwark riverside, was devised as London's contribution to European Architectural Heritage Lear of 1975^[328]

As a watchword or conceit, 'living history' was a coinage of the 1960s, but it had been anticipated and prefigured in a series of resurrectionary movements, each concerned, after its own fashion, to animate the inanimate and bring tradition back to life. The idea of what Margaret McMillan called 'education through the imagination'^[329]

In the 1940s and 1950s Molly Harrison, the very adventurous curator of the Geffrye Museum, Hackney, and the inventor of the idea of the 'period' room, was taking up arms against the 'solemn hush' of the 'huge marble halls', and turning her museum into an extended workshop and place of activity learning for East London schoolchildren^[330]

'History on the Ground', the first of those 'do-it-yourself' enthusiasms which enlisted the energies of the part-time or 'amateur' historian, prefigured the 1960s fascination in the visual. It mapped out the making of the landscape and the study of vernacular architecture. Applying an archaeological approach to agrarian systems and a topographical one to patterns of settlement, it invited attention to a past that was palpably present: in the lie of the land, the slant of the roofs, the eccentric shapes of boundaries, paths and villages. It entered into the intimacies of farm layouts, believing that vernacular building (a term which it helped to popularise) presented 'a tremendous body of evidence' for the local history of every parish^[331]

(Larkrise to Candleford) Using memory not as a distancing device but rather as a way of allowing the reader to eavesdrop on the past and treat the inhabitants of the village as familiars, it brought a child's-eye view to bear on a world which in the writings of previous historians, as of contemporaries, had been unrelievedly harsh and deprived^[332]

'Living history' was also facilitated by the spread of the portable tape-recorder. Like the facsimile reprint it gave a privileged place to the verbatim and encouraged those who used it to make a fetish of authenticity. Variously canvassed as living memory' or 'the voice of the past', and collected as an archive for the future as well as a new form of historical record, oral testimony emerged at the end of the decade not only as an alternative form of historical documentation, but also as one which, by its very nature, would give a central place to 'lived experience'^[333]

One of its early conquests was the BBC, which began to trawl in its own sound archives for the 'voice of the past'; which mounted Stephen Peet's Yesterday's Witness, a long-running TV series; and which on the model of The Long March of Everyman (1971) began to incorporate oral testimony as a kind of radiophonic foil to its documentaries and commentaries^[334]

Living history', though practised in the name of verisimilitude, has its hidden aesthetics. Its emergence - as a watchword and as a practice - in the 1960s could be seen as an expression or analogue of that decade's cult of immediacy. Here the new museology's insistence on accessibility and its use of audio-visual aids to position the spectator as an eavesdropper on the past, an eye-witness to everyday transactions and events, has obvious affinities with TV docudramas and 1960s cinéma-vérité.

Likewise the 'hands-on' interactive displays, breaking down the barriers separating the object and the viewer by taking exhibits out of the prison of the glass case, seem very much of a piece with the more generalised revolt against formality and such characteristic 1960s cultural (or counter-cultural) enthusiasms as 'theatre in the round', with its rejection of the proscenium stage in favour of free-floating space^[335]

Reference might also be made to the parallels with installation art, the 1960s revolt against the tyranny and formality of the salons, which took pictures out of their frames and removed sculpture from its pedestal, creating art objects instead as freestanding exhibits which could be walked around and touched^[336]

Yet the practice of 'living history' - or at any rate its ambition - corresponds at many points to quite traditional scholarly ideals. The 'controlled reconstruction of the past' on which (in G.R. Elton's phrase) professional historians pride themselves has evident affinities to the idea of historical reenactment; in either case it involves making flesh-and-blood figures out of fragments. What Michelet called 'resurrectionism’'- bringing the dead to life - was arguably the hinge of the nineteenth-century revolution in historical scholarship and the rise of archive-based research; while a romantic realism, in which talismanic importance is attached to the idea of authenticity, was not the least of the aesthetic components of the so-called 'scientific' history of Leopold von Ranke^[337]

'Bygones' and 'memorabilia', long relegated to Cinderella status in museum display,20 and treated as mere appendages in archaeological study,' have emerged in recent years as market leaders in the auction room, bringing a whole new class of collectables into being. Bygones also enjoy pride of place in the new 'Heritage Centres' and local history museums. 209

The language of nature conservancy, 'heritage' is represented by unspoiled countryside and wildlife reserves. Sustaining and managing bog habitats - 'some of the very last remnants of truly primaeval landscape in this country 23 - is a problem currently exercising Scottish Natural Heritage; another is the protection of bottlenose dolphins and 'harbour porpoises in the Moray Firth’ Under the influence of the National Trust visiting schemes 'garden heritage' has come more to the fore, as it has apparently in other countries, 25 while on what Operation Neptune calls the 'Heritage Coast' - the 700 miles of shoreline now in the custody of the National Trust - it is represented by the absence of seaside tat. For the lovers of literary landscapes it is the artistic associations of place which make it sacred. Among them would be the sixty-odd literary and artistic celebrities who have recently gone on record to protest at the 'assault on literary and artistic heritage' and despoliation of a landscape with uniquely important literary association represented by the wind turbines in the vicinity of the Bronte parsonage at Haworth. 209

English Herit-age, the quango established in 1984 to take charge of historic buildings and monuments, has some 500,000 properties for which it is in some final sense responsible, among them not only whole villages but even, in the lead-mining district of Derbyshire, Wirksworth, an entire town. The Department of National Heritage, established on the morrow of the Conservative election victory in 1991, is even more wide-ranging in its brief, and indeed in its enthusiasm for entering into the fine detail of the built environment it is coming to have an uncanny resemblance to the machineries of post-war planning. 210

Patrimoine, heritage's French cousin, is even more ecumenical in its ambitions and catholic in its tastes?& It brings under the umbrella of legislative protection, and state or regional intervention, not only historic buildings and historic monuments, but also a great range of material and cultural artefacts - family albums, for example, which have inspired a rich literature of historical and critical commentary 210

Straightforwardness, simplicity, loyalty, truthfulness, reliability, conscientiousness were all, it seemed, quintessentially English virtues. So were idealism (though the English were shy of admitting it) and commitment to high principle (though they did not make a song and dance about it). Practical and down-to-earth, the English were nevertheless romantically attached to tradition, to the unchanging beauty of the English countryside, to the 'cottages small' 'beside a field of grain^[338]

Great Britain as the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution is full of monuments left by this remarkable series of events. Any other country would have set up machinery for the scheduling and preservation of these memorials that symbolise the movement which is changing the face of the globe, but we are so oblivious to our national heritage that apart from a few museum pieces, the majority of these landmarks are neglected or unwittingly destroyed^[339]

Today, by contrast, the past is seen not as a prelude to the present but as an alternative to it, 'another country', and 'heritage' is more typically defined in terms of relics under threat^[340]

The Society of Antiquaries, which had a Conservation Committee in the 1850s, was largely concerned with the protection of Anglo-Norman church architecture, then disappearing under the heavy hand of the Gothic revivalists. The Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings, founded by William Morris in 1878 and leading players in environmental controversies today, also confined itself in its early years to church architecture, though its special enthusiasm was for a rather later period^[341]

Ancestor-worship is arguably a potential element in any historical project, while the idea of keeping faith with the past, or being 'true' to it, is the driving force or animating spirit in restoration work of all kinds. Solidarity with the dead - or an act of reparation towards them - has been a leading motive in many of these do-it-yourself retrieval projects which have as their object honouring the hardship and sufferings of those who have been hidden from history in the past^[342]

Heritage's 'lost England', according to Patrick Wright, is aristocratic-reactionary in character, and represents the hegemony of what he calls the 'Brideshead complex' over the more progressive spirit of the post war welfare state.39 Treating the country house 'not as a dead relic but as a potent symbol of everything that was threatened by modernisation and reform'^[343]

The country house is also not much of a presence in Recording Britain, the remarkable water-colourists' project commissioned in the early days of the Second World War to preserve for posterity a pictorial topography of vanishing Britain. 42 Kenneth Rowntree, a Quaker and a conscientious objector, preferred country churchyards.43 Barbara Jones, with her wonderful eye for the grotesque, made a speciality of follies, among them the life-size models of Jurassic reptiles in the ruins of Crystal Palace^[344]

John Piper did contribute some pictures of country houses, but they are offered as instances of what he was later to call 'pleasing decay' and when it came to symbolising the continuities of country life he opted, like others at this time, for the mediaeval or early modern barn^[345]

In a consumer-led society, in which everything has its price, and market values are unchallenged, it

'trafficics' in history and 'commodifies' the past.* It turns real-life suffering into tourist spectacle, while at the same time creating simulacra of a past that never was. Museums are particularly suspect. They are 'part of the leisure and tourist business', and thus intimately linked to the Disneylands and theme parks. They are also, it seems, property's franc-tireurs^[346]

A new museum is not only one of the convenient ways of re-using a redundant mill or factory. It is treated as a form of investment that will regenerate the local economy that has decayed as a result of the closure of that mill or factory. That is why it is relatively easy to find capital to set up a new museum. Museum projects are a useful means of cleaning up a derelict environment prior to commercial investment^[347]

Mention might be made here of those unemployed historians who scratch a small livelihood conducting historical walks, or those penny capitalists who have been developing murder tours. One could refer to the housebreakers and demolition men who, in the property boom of the 1980s, helped to keep the architectural salvage merchants supplied with period fittings; '* the scuba-divers who get black-market prices for underwater booty which is, legally speaking, the property of the Receiver of Wrecks,15 and the metal detectorists who have created gest lion an al bael ge being responsible 245

Intellectually, on the other hand, 'heritage' has had a very bad press, and it is widely accused of wanting to commodify the past and turn it into tourist kitsch. Aesthetes of both Right and Left, though especially perhaps the latter, have found it offensive, accusing it of packaging the past, and presenting a 'Disneyfied' version of history in place of the real thing. Purists have objected to the schemes promoted in its name, arguing that it blurs the line between entertainment and education and warning that, as with church restoration in the nineteenth century, it will replace real-life survivals with simulacra of an original that never was^[348]

Heritage is accused of wanting to turn the country into a gigantic museum, mummifying the present as well as the past, and preserving tradition in aspic^[349]

The historicist turn in British culture, which they date from 1975 - the year when the term 'heritage' began its inflationary career - corresponded to the onset of economic recession, the contraction of manufacturing industry and the return of mass unemployment. It testified to the collapse of British power. Heritage prepared the way for, or could be thought of as giving expression to, a recrudescence of 'Little Englandism' and the revival of nationalism as a force in political life^[350]

'Not since the 1890s or the 1930s has the worship of wistfulness been so widespread. And there in part lies the explanation; then, as now, depression is the begetter of nostalgia, disenchantment the handmaiden of escapism. As before, when the shopkeepers go out of business, we become a nation of ruminators. David Cannadine^[351]

Heritage, he argued, was a consolatory myth, entropy in holiday dress; it was the tourist industry's answer to secular economic decay: Where there were mines and mills, now there is Wigan Pier Heritage Centre, where you can pay to crawl through a model coal mine, watch dummies making nails, and be invited 'in' by actors and actresses dressed as 1900 proletarians. Britain, where these days a new museum opens every fortnight, is becoming a museum itself^[352] Neal Ascherson

The heritage industry, like the proposed 'core curriculum' of history for English schools, imposes one ruling group's version of history on everyone and declares that it cannot be changed. One of the marks of the feudal ancien régime was that the dead governed the living. A mark of a decrepit political system must surely be that a fictitious past of theme parks and costume dramas governs the present^[353] Neal Ascherson

In other words, in spite of the charge that heritage is imprisoning the country in a time-warp, and the accusation that it is sentimentalising the past, heritage is being attacked not because it is too historical but because it is not historical enough. It lacks authenticity. It is a simulation pretending to be the real thing. It is not because heritage is too reverent about the past that it provokes outrage, but on the contrary the fact that, in the eyes of the critics at least, it seems quite untroubled when it is dealing with replicas and pastiche^[354]

Ascherson is following a well-worn line in cultural criticism - is something which is passively consumed. The first is an intellectual activity; the second is mindless. The unspoken assumption is that people cannot be trusted with pictures; that images seduce, where the printed word engages the full intelligence^[355]

Writer E.L. Doctorow has put it, these simulated environments only offer shorthand culture for the masses ... a mindless thrill like an electric shock, that insists at the same time on the recipient's rich psychic relation to his country's history and language and literature. In a forthcoming time of highly governed masses in an overpopulated world this technique may be extremely useful as a substitute for education and, eventually, as a substitute for experience^[356]

For the aesthete, anyway for the alienated and the disaffected, heritage is a mechanism of cultural debasement. It leaves no space for the contemplative or the solitary. It forbids discrimination and the exercise of good taste. Its pleasures are cheap and nasty, confounding high and low, originals and copies, the authentic and the pastiche. It brings crowd pollution', in the form of mass tourism, to sacred spots, surrounds art treasures with crocodiles of visitors, and turns ancient monuments into spectacles for the ignorant to gawp at^[357]

The hostility of historians to heritage is possibly exacerbated by the fact that they are in some sort competing for the same terrain. Each, after its own fashion, claims to be representing the past 'as it was'. Each too could be said to be obsessed with the notion of 'period', though the one renders it through zeitgeist; the other in terms of icons. Interpretation, the privilege of the archive-based historian, and 're-creation', the ambition of heritage, also share a common conceit; the belief that scrupulous attention to detail will bring the dead to life.

Does envy play some part? Heritage has a large public following, mass-membership organisations whose numbers run to hundreds of thousands, whereas our captive audiences in the lecture hall or the seminar room can sometimes be counted on the fingers of one hand. Heritage involves tens of thousands of volunteers. It can command substantial exchequer subsidies, and raise large sums by appealing to the historically minded public. It has royal patronage, and enjoys support from politicians of all stripes. It fuels popular campaigns and is at the very centre of current controversy about the shape of the built environment. It can mount festivals and pageants. It enlists corporate sponsorship and support for its retrieval projects. It is something which people care passionately about; where they are ready to enter the arena of public debate rather as, in the old days, they were ready to re-rehearse the rights and wrongs of the Norman Conquest or the English Civil War^[358]

The perceived opposition between 'education' and 'entertainment', and the unspoken and unargued-for assumption that pleasure is almost by definition mindless, ought not to go unchallenged. There is no reason to think that people are more passive when looking at old photographs or film footage, handling a museum exhibit, following a local history trail, or even buying a historical souvenir, than when reading a book^[359]

People do not simply 'consume' images in the way in which, say, they buy a bar of chocolate. As in any reading, they assimilate them as best they can to pre-existing images and narratives. The pleasures of the gaze - scopophilia as it is disparagingly called - are different in kind from those of the written word but not necessarily less taxing on historical reflection and thought^[360]

Tribute might be paid to those madcap enthusiasts, and magpie collectors, who have brought whole new classes of collectables into play - e.g. the metal detectorists whose activity is graphically and sympathetically described in Patrick Wright's Journey through Runs, and who recently - to follow excited accounts in the newspapers - seem to be stumbling on hitherto unknown Roman conurbations, or ancient British settlements, every other week^[361]

He might induce us to join those tens of thousands of our fellow citizens who make their acquaintance with the mediaeval through the medium of brass rubbings, and to see that one way of consolidating knowledge about the past is to attempt, quite literally, to picture it^[362]

Heritage has also helped to give a new centrality to habitat, both in the interpretation of the built environment and in that of the natural world. Obsessed with period detail, and fetishizing material artefacts, it brings an archaeological - or anatomical - imagination to bear on the design and technology of the home^[363]

Good-Better-Best

Never let it Rest

Till your Good is Better

And your Better's Best^[364]

Living history, so far from domesticating or sanitising the past, makes a great point of its otherness, and indeed the brute contrast between ‘now' and 'then' is very often the framing device of its narrative. Whether the measure is life chances, social discipline, or the severity of old-time penal codes, it is only too apt to come up with horrors^[365]

It is a curious fact that historians, who are normally so pernickety about the evidential status of their documents, are content to take photographs on trust and to treat them as transparent reflections of fact. We may caption them to bring out what - for our purposes - is tell-tale detail, * but we do not feel obliged to question, or for that matter to corroborate, the picture's authenticity, to inquire into its provenance, or to speculate on why some figures are there and others, who might have been expected to be present, are not. We do not even follow the elementary rules of our trade, such as asking the name of the photographer, the circumstances in which the picture was taken, or its date. Consequently, we do not have a way, as we would when making use of a manuscript or printed source, of putting quotation marks using graphically speaking, around old photographs; nor, even if we are using them to pursue an argument, of footnoting and referencing thentall that appears is a mere credit ‘Mansell Collection" Mary Eare repository,. Museum of Rural Life' - as though a deposeven had the same authority as a source^[366]

In museums, to follow the argument of Gabriel Porter, the use of photographs is no less cavalier. While material artefacts will be lovingly classified, according to age, genre and provenance, photographic backups or blow-ups dramatising 'the look of the past', and recreating, perhaps, some workplace or domestic interior, are treated as self. explanatory. 'In the object collection [her italics] each item is identified; production and use are recorded; acquisition by the museum is registered with a transfer document; contextual materials are sought… On the other hand in the photographic archive... the image speaks by, and for, itself’^[367]

Photography was the cutting edge of these new developments, glamorising the new lifestyles, aestheticizing consumption, de-gentrifying politics, desublimating sexuality. Like pop music it bridged the gulf between high culture and low by offering a language that, in principle, was common to both. The new breed of streetwise photographers used it to undermine the pretensions of haute couture, the pop artists to make a poetics of advertising and packaging. In the schools, progressive teachers seized on it as a talisman of relevance^[368]

First, there are the picture postcards, commercially produced, usually depicting street scenes. Quite often buildings are shown which have since been demolished, a record which exists nowhere else. I have been astonished at the amount of detail shown: with the aid of a magnifying glass it is frequently possible, for instance, to read the date stones and inscriptions on houses. Apart from houses and streets, one can obtain photographs of windmills, smithies, wheelwrights' shops and so on ...^[369]

The practice of sending picture postcards reached one of its greatest peaks of popularity towards the end of the nineteenth century. Local photographers throughout the country produced views of town and village in great quantity. Not only did they make cards of the obvious subjects such as the village street, the church, and the 'pub', but they also attended local events to record them and to sell the cards to those taking part, for the day of the almost universal ownership of the cheap camera was yet to come. In this way such occasions as village feasts, processions, ceremonies, even local funerals came to be corded. A photograph of a funeral at Brimscombe Fort which was brought to a Gloucester Museum recently shows in the background a dockside record. the sort of thing which the industrial archaeologist is anxious to record. There is a wealth of incidental detail this kind to be discovered in the study of old postcards^[370]

In photography itself the snapshot, with its eye-level naturalism, artless framing and spontaneous action, is finding its belated partisans and defenders, as a form of modern folk-art, ' and even its self-consciously avant-garde practitioners. In the wake of Roland Barthes's Camera Lucida it is also beginning to receive critical commentary, though hardly as yet even rudimentary periodization or chronology.? Social historians, if more belatedly, have begun to recognize its challenge as a form of representation and documentation which can take on whole new meanings when other forms of knowledge and understanding are brought to bear on it^[371]

In cinema, the idea of using the family album as a framing or location device might speculatively be traced back to the 'Rosebud' sequence in Citizen Kane (1941). Another possible progenitor is Meet Me in St Louis (1944), where 1900s picture postcards were used to frame the action and reaffirm the worth of small-town America. But it was in the Hollywood nostalgia films of the 1960s, with their new-style credit sequences - dissolving views of what was to follow - that the snapshot came into its

and Clyde (1967) was an influential example, opening (to the click of the camera) with a series of framed, tinted and faded photographs of the gun-toting dramatis personae (there was a real-life original here, since Bonnie was in the habit of taunting the police by sending them snapshots of the gang)^[372]

The family photograph has long been used as a narrative device in autobiography. A more complex use of it, as a means of distancing the author from the remembered self, has more recently come to the fore. Donald Fraser, in his In Search of a Past, uses it in a series of flashbacks to rediscover a repressed and buried self;6 Roland Barthes in Camera Lucida argues that precisely because of its artifice it is truer to reality than reality itself could be.'^[373]

Thus, to follow a writer in Picture Postcard Monthly, churches, stately homes and public buildings - unless they have been providentially destroyed - are a drag on the market, while 'anything that is no longer with us, including quite recent buildings either totally destroyed or greatly altered by the developer', are a snip’ The choice of pictures in local areas follows similar lines, showing the suburb in the days when it could still claim to be a village^[374]

Nostalgia, or homesickness, is famously not about the past but about felt absences or lack' in the present. It can locate itself in the blue remembered hills of adolescence or childhood but, as the example of nineteenth-century medievalism (or nineteenth-century Hellenism) may remind us, it can find its historical homeland in times that are inconceivably more remote. What seems to be involved in the case of old photographs is not so much getting back to the past - anyway the remembered past - still less, as the compilers of local albums sometimes creatist, hanging on to it as it disappears before our eyes, but rather of creating a lost Eden. As in the case of family history, where the geographically mobile and the sociologically orphaned, researching their ‘roots’', discover ancestors inconceivably more glamorous or interesting than their immediate forebears^[375]

(Historic family photographs) To modern eyes they may look stilted. But they are posing not for the viewer but for themselves, projecting an image, however idealised, or fantasised, of what they believed themselves to be. It is unlikely that the photographer studio was the only occasion when such appearances were required. It would be mandatory if they attended church or chapel, and conventional at the family dinner table or on family outings. The paterfamilias might well have when sorted himself in the same spirit when he was accosted by a stranger, Or When he travelled to work, or when he took a stick or a belt to his children. One cannot think that the mother appeared as a Madonna figure when sitting before the camera^[376]

It is a commonplace of contemporary criticism that meaning is in the eye of the beholder: that a picture will tell different stories, depending on how it is framed; and that the after-image, subject to multiple and dissonant appropriations, will diverge radically from the original. Even so, it is astonishing to observe some of the reversals which take place when pictures taken at the time for their actuality or topicality are exhibited as trophies of the past or recycled as period prints^[377]

But the pleasure principle, even if it is defined as generously and as dialectically as it is in Freud, while it might accommodate them, could hardly account for an old photograph's power to take one unawares. Projection, rather than (or as well as) identification, might help to explain, or at any rate 10 problematize, that hallucinatory sense of oneness with the past which old photographs seem so often to induce - fostering the illusion that, as Salman Rushdie puts it in an autobiographical essay, we are more at home in it than we are in the present." "Oceanic feelings' - Freud's term for the effect of an encounter with the numinous and the ineffable - of the help to account for the revelatory power of a particular image and Prose strong emotions which welled up seemingly from nowhere. freud's family romance, the child's rejection of real-life parents in favour of imaginary and more glamorous others - a recurring fana, which seems very germane to the amorous others asm for family history and the discovery of root of the current enthusiasm for explain such contemporary cliches as a display of 1860s cartes de visites in the manner of ancestral portraits^[378]

Under this optic old photographs could be seen as a play on the irrecoverability of the past, the impossibility of bringing the dead to life. The keeping of the photograph here is a grasping after shadows; it is a closing of the stable door after the horse has bolted^[379]

The idea that the past is a plaything of the present, or, as postmodernist theory would have it, a 'metafiction', is only now beginning to impinge on the consciousness and disturb the tranquillity of professional histor-ians. But it has been for some twenty years or more a commonplace of epistemological criticism, and a very mainspring of experimental work in literature and the arts. It is also a leitmotiv in commodity marketing and design, where a vast amount of ingenuity is devoted to giving brand-new products a look of instant oldness^[380]

The integrity of history should be respected, too, subjects should be studied on their own terms, or, as Bishop Stubbs put it, 'historically,? rather than in ways which might be suggested by the language and thought of the present day. Indeed, for the more extreme advocates of a return to the 'traditional' school syllabus, like Sheila Lawlor, the deputy director of the Policy Studies Institute, the merest touch of the contemporary contaminates. Despite these cautions, we are in fact constantly reinterpreting the past in the light of the present, and indeed, like conservationists and restorationists in other spheres, reinventing it. The angle of vision is inescapably contemporary, however remote the object in view. Even when we reproduce words and phrases verbatim, the resonances are those of our time. However faithfully we document a period and steep ourselves in the sources, we cannot rid ourselves of afterthought. However jealously we protect the integrity of our subject matter, we cannot insulate it from ourselves^[381]

In another way of looking at it, the historian's reading of the evidence could be seen as an essay in make-believe, a way of dressing fragments to make them look like meaningful wholes - rather as animatronics produces a tableau vivant of the museum exhibit. Or it could be seen as an exercise in the storyteller's arts, relying heavily on the expectation of continuity and using a battery of devices to heighten what Roland Barthes calls the ‘reality effect’^[382]

In Britain the idea of Merrie England, which appears in the pages of Cobbett and Carlyle as a paradise lost, and in graphic art as a bucolic alternative to the severities of a commercial civilization, has a large documentation waiting to be pieced together in the manner of the cult of chivalry in Mark Girouard's Return to Camelot. Closely related to this one might instance the nineteenth-century discovery of such figures of national myth as Boadicea, who disappeared from the records for a thousand years and who only really came into her own in Victorian times, or (one of Michelet's additions to the democratic pantheon) Joan of Arc."^[383]

History has always been a hybrid form of knowledge, syncretizing past and present, memory and myth, the written record and the spoken word. Its subject matter is promiscuous, as the almanacks printed as a frontispiece to this volume may suggest. In popular memory, if not in high scholarship, the great flood or the freak storm may eclipse wars, battles and the rise and fall of governments. As a form of communica-tion, history finds expression not only in chronicle and commentary but ao ballad and song, legends and proverbs, riddles and puzzles^[384]

As a self-conscious art, history begins with monuments and inscriptions, and as the record

of the built environment suggests, not the least of the influences changing historical consciousness today is the writing on the walls^[385]

At a time when numbers in higher education are expanding; when whole new constituencies of research are forming outside the academy; and when questions of individual and collective identity are making history a front-line subject in the schools, it would be absurd for historians to abandon the field of moral and political argument; to attempt to return to history with a capital 'H' - i.e. a single master narrative - or to try to retreat to the cloistered seclusion of a library carrel^[386]

‘The river as metaphor appears early in the Scottish Renaissance before it is picked up and transformed into a powerful symbol some two decades later. In Highland River, Neil Gunn [1994: 114] writes. It's a far cry to the golden age, to the blue smoke of the heath fire and the scent of the primrose! Our river took a wrong turn somewhere! But we haven't forgotten the source. A similarly diffusionist inspired pre-civilisation golden age [Lyall 2012] infuses the work of Lewis Grassic Gibbon’^[387]

‘Gibson [2015: 1f] suggests Henderson envisaged the role of the artist in society as one caught between an absolute submission to the collective tide of human experience and the need to absorb and recreate this collective force according to an individual or personal credo - a creative tension embodied in the spirited exchange between Henderson and MacDiarmid in the letters pages of The Scotsman daily newspaper.’^[388]

‘Synchronously with the rise of nationalism in early 20th century Scotland, a modernism shaped by Frazer's Golden Bough had emerged internationally; modern Scottish writers and poets considering their nation applied a similar anthropological perspective Robichaud 2005: 136]:’^[389]

‘Heritages and Authenticity, Resources and Sustainability

As a founder of town planning and human ecology, Geddes was, in one sense, thoroughly modernist; yet he was also, and comprehensively, a cultural revivalist.There is no conflict in this because for Geddes, according to Macdonald (2020: 145), a sustainable future required an understanding of the past... and his modemism did not simply learn from the past, it depended on it; thus, cultural revivalism and modernism are so profoundly intertwined that one can see them as two sides of the same early twentieth-century coin.’^[390]

‘Macdonald here compares this vision to that of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, recalling Patrick Geddes commenting on Mackintosh's Glasgow School of Art building that never was concrete more concrete, steel more steely, and pointing out that at the same time never was architecture more informed by history’^[391]

‘A stanza from his poem Morgan 2004) commissioned for, and performed at the reconstitution of the Scottish Parliament illustrates this lithic perspective; the building itself, located across the road from the Royal Palace of Holyrood House, is an eloquent statement of that perspective, with its architecture referencing Scotland's land, sea, natural resources, and cultural heritages:

But bring together slate and stainless steel, black granite and grey granite, seasoned oak and sycamore, concrete blond and smooth as silk — the mix is almost alive - it breathes and beckons - imperial marble it is not!’^[392]

‘Let my words knit what now we lack

The demon and the heritage

And fancy strapped to logic's rock.

A chastened wantonness, a bit

That sets on song a discipline,

A sensuous austerity’^[393]

Memory

Mnemosyne has shown herself to be a very careless girl - Nabokov

Places in the Western world are socially constructed with a considerable intensity of nostalgia as consciously and unconsciously we create and recreate them with a sense of history^[394]

These memories cling to the words like a shadow that gives them depth despite their emptiness^[395]

[Pierre] Nora is concerned with those ‘places of memory’ which should be regarded, as he argues, as ‘mirrors in which people once tried to see themselves’^[396]

[Pierre] Nora’s work parallels Foucault’s emphasis on the ‘reality’ of the past residing in the artefacts of its representation^[397]

‘Memory is historically conditioned; changing colour and shape according to the emergencies of the moment; that so far from being handed down in the timeless form of ‘tradition’ it is progressively altered from generation to generation^[398]

What Harvey has called a ‘mysterious’ sense of collective memory’^[399]

Memory is not, then, a reactionary form of exclusion from the present. Memory, and its expression in memorial or act of commemoration, is a potent means to connect historical meaning and contemporary identity^[400]

‘We memorialise our landscape in different ways and for different purposes, and older memorials should be reinterpreted in the light of more recent events, but that is not to say that they should be destroyed’^[401]

Samuel has noted how [memory] ‘bears the impress of experience, in however mediated a way. It is stamped with the ruling passions of its time’^[402]

Pierre Nora claims that the demise of peasant society, sites or places of memory have replaced real environments of memory. What he calls ‘true memory’, ‘which has taken refuge in gestures and habits, in skills passed down by unspoken traditions, in the body’s inherent self-knowledge, in unstudied reflexes and ingrain memories’, has been replaced by modern memory, which is self-conscious, historical, individual, and archival’^[403]

Bodnar’s discussion of the memory symbolised in monuments centres around the idea of ‘public memory’. Which in the late twentieth century remains a product of elite manipulation, symbolic interaction, and contested discourse^[404]

Roget's Thesaurus gives a child's definition of memory as "the thing I forget with."

Identity

Places in the Western world are socially constructed with a considerable intensity of nostalgia as consciously and unconsciously we create and recreate them with a sense of history^[405]

Halbwachs argued that it was through membership of a social group - particularly through kinship, religion, and class affiliations - that individuals were able to acquire, to localise and to recall their memories^[406]

[N.] Johnson has shown for Ireland how public statutory has been used to construct and mythologise a heroic part for Ireland , a national identity forged in opposition to English claims and an identity that was never fixed and monolithic but always being reshaped as an ideological contest between Republican and Unionist traditions^[407]

The historiography of Scottish identity may be cast as a series of dialectic tensions between a metropolitan core and a backward (usually Highland) periphery; between culture and nature; the rational (readily seen as anglicised and urban) and the emotive (associated with the Gaelic Scot); between the civilised and the barbarous^[408]

Identity here depends, then, not upon an uncritical memory of the past but upon conflicting purposes in the present to which commemoration of the past may be put^[409]

As they sheltered in the lee of the east window at Croick church, Highlanders evicted in the Greenyards and Glencalvie clearances scratched on one pane: Glencalvie people The evicted generation May 2 1845’^[410]

[Memory Cairn at Park, Lewis] Its construction deliberately mirrors other vernacular architecture in the Highlands, and the incorporation of stones from the raider’s homes means the monument, almost literally, is made of the very things it seeks to commemorate’^[411]

The varied spectacle of remembrance undertaken in May 1994 should be seen as an expression of local identity through a process of social remembering^[412]

The landscape itself bears testimony in numerous forms - abandoned ‘lazy beds’ or cultivation balks, place-names, former ring-dykes built of turves and the stones near the townships’ in-by land - to past patterns of occupance now recalled only in memory^[413]

The memorialisation of the past now under way in the Scottish Highlands has, then, both local meaning and wider significance. It is popular and local memory rather than public dominant or elite memory that is at work here.^[414]

Educated Scots - the bellwethers of the Atlantic intellect - made their landscape a metaphysical horror^[415]

The psychological metaphor of dualism, and the equally powerful physical-social metaphor of ‘the thin crust of civilisation’^[416]

[German scholar Elmar Schenkel] has argued that the speed of change in industrial society makes the ideal of ‘completeness’ - the overcoming alienation - affirmable or deniable only through metaphor^[417]

Schenkel argues that, to escape intolerable reality and unstable metaphor, writers in industrial societies implicitly align themselves with ‘green’ and ‘small-is-beautiful’ projects aimed at a non-industrial, utopian logos.^[418]

The actualities of childhood, the village, the small community have changed so much that invoking them makes them, as it were, metaphors of a metaphor^[419]

In a present of precipitate change, with the fragmentation of the traditional Anglo-British context, such images count for so much that interdisciplinarity and intertextuality become unavoidable^[420]

[...] suggested a possible approach to the peculiarly faulted Scotland of the Victorians, analysing the success of their cultural incorporation into the Union state, especially in the 1840s, and its ambitious psychological and social consequences^[421]

What’s lacking is national pathos, or more directly, sex: Scotia not only isn’t Britannia, she doesn’t seem to be there at all. Woman-as-nation can personify integrity - the national matron - along with dependence, martyrdom, and liability to rape^[422]

Femininity - or sensitivity in general - became a sort of civic disqualification, to be overcome by becoming ‘more like men’. This emotional inflexibility, latent in R D Laing’s critique of the family, has since had its Scottish roots analysed by such neo-Jungian feminists as Kay Carmichael in For Crying Out Loud (1993) and Carol Craig in The Scots’ Crisis of Confidence (2003)^[423]

Now, when the day dawns on the brow of the moorland,

Low stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold

Lone let it stand, now the folks are all departed

The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old^[424]

[J M Keynes] You think that a wall as solid as the earth separates civilisation from barbarism. I tell you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass^[425]

What John Buchan called the civilization - barbarism frontier; ‘a thread, a sheet of glass’ a phrase which Graham Greene in 1941 reckoned as summing up the character of the twentieth century^[426]

Society is resolving itself into its original elements. Its superficial order is the result of habit, not of conviction. Everything is changing, and changing rapidly, Creeds disappear in a night. As for political institutions, they are all challenged, and statesmen, conscious of what is at hand, are changing nations into armies^[427]

Call ye that a Society … where there is no longer any Social Idea extant; not so much as the idea of a Common Home, but only of a common overcrowded lodging-house? Where each, isolated, regardless of his neighbour, turned against his neighbour, clutches what he can get, and cries ‘Mine!’’ and calls it Peace, because in the cut-purse and cut-throat scramble, no steel knives, but only of a cunninger sort, can be employed^[428]

Because the Victorian crisis was comprehensive, metaphors of ‘dissociated sensibility; built up to an awareness of full-blown schizophrenia, from Hogg to Laing^[429]

William Power wrote that the nation was the Galatea of the young nationalists of the 1920s, a reconciler, an epiphany of the planned and dignified society. But her appeal would be limited in the empty forges and slipways of the world’s former workshop^[430]

Practice

‘Art, considered at its highest vocation, is and remains for us a thing of the past’ G.W.F Hegel, Aesthetics: Lectures in ^[431]

On the one hand, globalised capitalist culture is increasingly amnesiac, increasingly focussed on ever new markets, products, and experiences. On the other hand, this very culture produces ever more spectacular and romantic representations of the past particularly in film^[432]

While it was only with slight discomfort that Rauschenberg was called a painter throughout the first decade of his career, when he systematically embraced photographic images in the early sixties it became less and less possible to think of his work as painting. It was instead a hybrid form of printing. Rauschenberg had moved definitively from techniques of production (combines, assemblages) to

Past techniques of reproduction (silkscreens, transfer drawings)^[433]

Gerlad Byrne - ‘They simply could not conceive of a future that would be mostly made up of relics of the past. Byrne's installation reminds us that there is no such thing as a discrete historical period, stripped of the detritus of the preceding era; the future, just like the present, will be possessed, whether we wish it or not, of a long memory’^[434]

Questioning the nature of artefacts, images, and artistic processes. (In fact, one strand of his work has explicitly to do with the ontology and display of works of art; a recent series of photographs depicts the reverse of various Old Master paintings, with their palimpsestic signs of provenance and prior display^[435]

Lartigue - This passage from his childhood diary is yet another of those mythical beginnings: the origin, supposedly, of the instinctive photographer. But the trick failed; his memory wasn't up to the task, and photography, the concrete form of this evanescent apparatus, seems in a way to have let him down too. How else to explain his endless insistence that photography was purely a way of preserving his memories? His mania for recording was so all-encompassing that he can only have felt it to be a doomed project. That, or he was half in love with the notion that his photographs froze the vanishing act itself: the parallel shelves of albums and diaries form an escape tunnel from the present, not its archive^[436]

Perhaps photography- with its monocular vision, trapped in the moment - can never be that process; what is certain is that Lartigue's archival fever never altered, never abated into cool self-aware-ness. He was as impatient with the world in 1955-"I am nervous, restless, I want to see everything, store everything up, lose nothing" - as he had been in 1912: "Every day so many things come and go, amusing and enchanting me, and everything must be described. It's impossible: there is too much to tell."^[437]

Tacita Dean - Herar examines the aesthetics of that strange half life when things, people, and the stories they el have become obsolete but insist on still hanging around- she is obsessed, in other words, by ruins. In their slow, precise, and elegant manner, her films embody a state of temporal being-between: anachronism is the motor of her most accomplished work^[438]

Proust, too, was intrigued by photography, and writes in the second volume of In Search of Lost Time: "Pleasures are like photographs: those taken in the beloved's presence no more than negatives, to be developed later, once you are at home, having regained the use of that interior darkroom, access to which is 'condemned' as long as you are seeing other people."^[439]

'[to see something as art requires something the eye cannot decry - an atmosphere of artistic theory, a knowledge of the history of art: an artworld’^[440]

This idea that the photograph is a direct link or trace to what it depicts is evident in Roland Barthes claim in Camera Lucida that '(e]very photograph is a certificate of presence, and in Susan Sontag's suggestion that the photograph is not just 'an interpretation of the real; it is also a trace, something directly stencilled off the real, like a footprint or a death mask’^[441]

‘Working on the basis that hindsight is 20/20, today’s take on modernism might be considered a fantasy of going back, Marty McFly-like, into vanished moments and tweaking them before they explode. Or, perhaps more accurately, of dragging past into present - ‘reloading it’, as Bourriand would have it - hymning its potentials, exposing its failing for careful repair; and, in the process, tentatively resurrecting something that feels like hope’^[442]

“To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed. Just as a camera is a sublimation of the gun, to photograph someone is a subliminal murder - a soft murder, appropriate to a sad, frightened time.”^[444]

It was crucial that Deller used a battle recreation society to help organise the event: such societies tend to be involved with English Civil War recreations, and their use in the project pointed to the way in which English history tends only to be addressed when romanticised and no longer deemed to be of political impact^[445]

Imaginative as Buckingham's critiques of monuments might be, it would be much more challenging to formulate a new kind of monument. This is the task he set himself in AueS Detour, made in Los Angeles in 2002. Buckingham made a poster printed with the date

'September 4, 1781' and with a URL below it in a smaller font size. The poster was pasted onto a bus stop bench, and the second part of the work could be accessed on the internet by entering the URL. A text at the website described the founding of the city of Los Angeles on the named date^[446]

"We didn’t want the arts to be preserved by an old 18th century museum, the way we all know, but by a museum “school of life” where things should be represented by their classical content, in other words, by their true, persuasively, modern, eternal [character]…. In this anti-museum, the history of painting, for instance, could instigate the same interest as a theatre spectacle and certainly the audience would be amused. … If the intellectuals recognize that a new era opens out and that a revolution is about to happen, the revolution of culture, then the educational question will occupy a foreground position: and our museum—or counter-museum, as we like to call it—will be considered’^[447]

‘Stripping the Museum of that church atmosphere that excludes the uninitiated, stripping the paintings of their “aura” to present the work of art as “work,” highly specialised but still work; presenting it in a way that can be understood by the uninitiated… The Museu de Arte de São Paulo is popular. … As the responsible person for the Museum’s design and for the design of the crystal easel… with didactic panels to display the paintings, I want to clarify that in designing the Museum it was my intention to destroy the aura that always surrounds a museum, to present the work of art as work, as a prophecy of work at everyone’s reach’^[448]

‘Koester - switches to the first person: 'It seemed to me as if sediments, pieces of leftover narratives and ideas from the individuals that once passed through this place had formed knots, as tangled as the bushes and trees that were now taking over, creating a kind of sleeping presence."^[449]

The carpeted rooms allude to private domestic space but the installation requirements of the work insist on exhibition in the public space of a museum or gallery. As much as the viewer's initial experience is one of getting lost, eventually he or she finds the material. If the eventual meaning of Situation Leading to a Story involves the separation of public stories that impact on the present from private ones that do not, this separation is precisely reflected and achieved by the installation^[450]

Buckingham will fracture narratives, he will draw attention to the construction of knowledge as much as to the fabrication of his work, but will not leave his viewer in a pessimistic situation of relativism or utter scepticism where it might seem that all interpretations and representations of the past are arbitrary and equally valid.

Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak has described 'the greatest gift of deconstruction" as transforming conditions of impossibility into possibility' and this is the gift Buckingham takes."^[451]

‘Theory is always a detour on the way to something more important’ Stuart Hall

Everything that is essential to art practice, however tortuous the journey, is predicated on acts of disclosure; everything essential to curating turns on showing, ostension, acts of exhibiting^[452]

Culture and economy evermore dependant on the construct generation of creative attitudes and incessant circulation of art-like images and the cultural phenomenon of ‘curationism’ in which every act of choice, every exercise of taste (especially online self-fashioning is ‘curated’)^[453]

‘For (Simon) Starling, Shedboatshed, like many of his other artworks conceived over the last decade or so as an artistic and poetic response to globalisation, involved a process of transforming or translating one object or substance into another. His works are also, says Starling, "the physical manifestation of a thought process" and, says the architect and writer Paul Shepeard, "evidence of action having taken place."

^[454]

It’s learning to really listen to yourself, think aloud and then having the, not so much the experience, just the courage to name what those germinations are^[455]

Deferred meaning. That somehow when things collide, two opposites collide, in this dialectical way, some sort of synthesis is engineered or brought about and in that, a new form, a new meaning or a new way emerges which you can chase, ad infinitum^[456]

Adorno opened his Aesthetic Theory with the now-famous declaration, 'It is self-evident that nothing concerning art is self-evident any more, nor its inner life, nor its relation to the world, nor even its right to exist."^[458]

Bruno Latour wants to argue that this cult of the past - this need, at one and the same time, to conjure the past, revere it, excise it and destroy it - extends to the very heart of modernism and is in the end what undermines modernism from within, in fact what makes modernism not modern at all.^[459]

Every painting, said Picasso, is a sum of destructions: the artist builds and demolishes in the same instant. Which is perhaps what Jasper Johns had in mind when he said of Robert Rauschenberg's Erased de Kooning Drawing that it embodied an "additive subtraction": after a month's sporadic destruction, and forty spent erasers, what is left is a surface startlingly alive, active, palimpsestic^[460]

Visually, the contemporary art that most resembles the palimpsests of antiquity is the photography of dris Khan. Strictly speaking, nothing is erased in Khan's work, but rather overlaid to the point of illegibility. It amounts to the same thing: in Every Page of the Holy Koran

2004), the sacred text overwrites itself till it is a blur of meaningless ciphers, and the vertical gutter between the pages a deep black void. The scores of Frédéric Chopin and Ludwig van Beethoven are subjected to the same superimposition, their notes clotted like flies^[461]

A work by Joseph Kosuth, Zero & Not (1986), point out both the psychoanalytic attitude to language and the tendency of Freud's words to assert their authority despite our efforts to wipe them out. A Freudian text is printed on the gallery wall, then struck through with black tape, so that it is erased but still insists, remains more or less readable: its lesson - the lesson of psychoanalysis - a lesson, after all, about the impossibility of erasure- simply won't go away. 314

What we require is silence, but what silence requires is that I go on talking," declared John Cage in his "Lecture on Nothing": the silence dreamed of by the art of the last century is always expectant, about to be spoken into. 315

Maybe the total erasure of a work of art, or the making of a work that had an utter absence at its heart, was never possible to begin with, or maybe it's simply a fantasy to which contemporary art is no longer willing to give itself over, except playfully. Ignasi Aballi's Big Mistake (1998-2005), in which the artist painted a modernist black square on the gallery wall, then overpainted it with Tipp-Ex, or Correction (2001)^[462]

In his famous attack against minimal sculpture, written in 1967, the critic Michael Fried predicted the demise of art as we then knew it, that is, the art of modernist abstract painting and sculpture. "Art degenerates," he warned us, "as it approaches the condition of theatre," theatre being, according to Fried's argu-ment, "what lies between the arts."? And indeed, over the past decade we have witnessed a radical break with that modernist tradition, effected precisely by a preoccupation with the "theatrical,"^[463]

Every image of the past that is not recognised by the present as one of its own threatens to disappear irretrievably^[464]

Barthes suggests in that essay that a “still is the fragment of a second text whose existence never exceeds the fragment; film and still find themselves in a palimpsest relationship without it being possible to say that one is on top of the other or that one is extracted from the other^[465]

As in these projects, You'll never work in this town again ostensibly offers catharsis to the participants. These subjects, however, are not the postcolonial oppressed, but rather the curators, critics, and writers (and, occasionally, dealers and collectors) who form the cadres of contemporary art production^[466] On Phil Collins's you'll never work in this town again (2004-ongoing)

‘Byrne's installation reminds us that there is no such thing as a discrete historical period, stripped of the detritus of the preceding era; the future, just like the present, will be possessed, whether we wish it or not, of a long memory’^[467]

‘Byrne photographs artifacts and fragments of architecture that have survived the intervening decades- abandoned entertainments at the site of the 1964 World's Fair in New York, for example-but also contemporary equivalents of the everyday infrastructure of the early 196os: drive-ins, bowling lanes, picket fences. More than forty years later, the world seems almost unchanged. Even the styles of the images bring to mind the great American photographers of the postwar decades; there are hints of Robert Frank, Lee Friedlander, and William Eggleston. Exhibited as a single line of framed prints that surrounds the three video monitors of 1984 and Beyond, the implication of these individually enigmatic photographs is clear: the futurologists brought together by Playboy in 1963 were capable of conjuring all manner of plausible or fantastic innovations, but they simply could not conceive of a future that would be mostly made up of relics of the past’^[468]

‘Her (Tacita Dean) art examines the aesthetics of that strange half-life when things, people, and the stories they tell have become obsolete but insist on still hanging around - she is obsessed, in other words, by ruins. In their slow, precise, and elegant manner, her films embody a state of temporal being-between: anachronism is the motor of her most accomplished work’^[469]

‘Somewhere in this sea of shadows, however, lies an island of light and clarity, a sliver of the screen - an open doorway, a window, or a glass partition - that is illuminated from the inside, often with a golden light.

There may well be some movement visible within this lambent portion of the screen: a mobile body, wavering sunlight, perhaps only the dance of dust motes.

Whatever the local differences between one incarnation of the image and another, one thing is certain: what we are seeing in this signature arrangement is nothing less than the architecture of duration and decay, time and memory, rendered as space, light, and shadow’^[470]

Research as-

‘Artworks and exhibitions often include objects that look like research materials, and these are in turn placed in folders, vitrine tables, cabinets and binders reminiscent of those used in actual archives, historical museums or research libraries. Art institutions - from public and private galleries to artist-run spaces, as well as residency programmes and artist studios - describe themselves as laboratories or educational spaces. In addition to the production of art objects and exhibitions, they organise lectures, seminars, workshops and open-ended social experiments. As a result of a dramatic increase in practice-based PhD programmes at universities around the world, artists are also increasingly taking on the role of academic researchers in a literal sense. How the connection between art and research is understood varies within and between these different examples. At times the terms have a loose associative connection to each other, at other times art and research are seen to be fundamentally linked in their shared quest for knowledge. Art and research are sometimes used as near synonymous terms, but it is also common to use one to modify and specify the other. The term connecting art with research is significant in this respect: are we to understand the relationship in terms of art as research (or research as art?), or perhaps that art is somehow generated through research? Does describing an artistic practice as research-based indicate that the artist mimics the work of the researcher or is it taken to mean that the artist is really - literally - conducting research?’^[471]

Visual art scholar and curator Marquard Smith, for example, has described contemporary artistic practices in which the artwork is said to both embody and evidence its own research^[472]

The duality of safekeeping and forgetting is key for Derrida:

the archive [...] produces memory, but produces forgetting at the same time.

Curatorial writing often stresses that the practice of curating can be viewed as a particular way of thinking: Irit Rogoff has described curatorial thought as unbound critical thought that can point in unpredictable directions, and Maria Lind has characterised curating as a way of thinking about interconnections"Curating is thus seen to be a knowledge-generating practice, where the exhibition is the result or account of that research. Curatorial practice is thus another argument for expanding what can count as research - in some artistic forms of research the result will be an artwork, and in curatorial research the result can be presented in a spatial format such as an exhibition or through other types of curatorial project or events^[473]

Paul O’Neil and Mick Wilson noted a renewed recognition of the exhibition itself as a potential mode of research action' and that the archive was key to many of the discussions of the increasing alignment between the curatorial and research, so much so that 'the archive-on-display might risk appearing as the new orthodoxy, seeking to displace the autonomous-artwork-on-display^[474]

The issue is not whether curators should have archives or open them to others, or to what degree this is interesting or not; rather, the question concerns whether the people in charge of administering exhibitions of art should be using the spaces and funding available for art to exhibit their own reading lists, references, and sources as a kind of artwork^[475]

Two figures connected to nineteenth-century systems of thought, the flaneur and the detective, can be used to clarify the kind of research that archival artists carry out. The detective and the flâneur each represent a method of generating knowledge and point to ways of understanding the modes of knowledge production evoked by the artist as researcher. The detective personified by Sherlock Holmes as the profession's most iconic practitioner, symbolises the methodology of deductive reasoning, searching for clues and piecing these together into a coherent explanation. Historian Carlo Ginzburg has made the case that a new epistemological model emerged towards the end of the nineteenth century, a model based on the notion that truths can be revealed by observing seemingly insignificant clues."^[476]

The flâneur is a person walking slowly and attentively without a map in the chaotic and fragmented modern city; he - traditionally the flâneur was male - is characterised by a kind of openness to chance that both Dean and Koester describe in their artists texts. Interestingly, the post-structuralist historian has been described as a kind of flâneur who ‘wanders the archival textual city in a half-dreamlike state in order to be open to the half-formed possibilities of the material and sensitive to unusual juxtapositions and novel perceptions’^[477]

This type of practice, where an artist uses a museum, collection or archive to document or gather material that is then exhibited, has become a recognisable feature of artistic practice at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Artist-in-residence programmes invite artists into museums and archives with the explicit aim of having them engage creatively and critically with the material. These invitations can be viewed as a more or less calculated way of preemptively inoculating the institution from criticism, but can also be seen as a genuine desire to investigate and challenge the institutions making visible the blind spots at work in any institutional setting^[478]

Curation

Anton Vidokle has criticised what he considers to be the overreach of curators, pointedly reminding them that ‘while artists may well produce in the absence of curators, if no art is being produced, curators of contemporary art … are out of a job"^[479]

Turn in the 1960s- ‘shift in the role of the curator from a caretaker of privately owned collections to an individual author of public exhibitions and more recently, a mediator of more wide-ranging interdisciplinary and regionally diverse forms of artistic expression’^[480]

‘What is the process by which were changed by what we make? The ledger of experience is marked with curious internalised cyphers, and so, this introduction is concerned with the making of the self in the process of making things’^[481]

‘An exhibition is, in this sense, the scaffold that supports the effort of bringing into visibility what the curator feels necessary in their imagination. In the mind and in to emerge from physical space, an exhibition has its own erotics of detail, its undulations of space swelling and contracting around objects, the meanings of objects and installations themselves in motion for the maker, as they are for viewers ambulating among them’^[482]

‘For both maker and viewer, the exhibition is an event of meaningfulness, a narrative in which sensation, cognition, apprehension, understanding, and reflection commingle with interpretation and then after, in memory, produce further reflection toward what we hope all experiences of interesting art produce: a change in us, a deepening sense of how the self fits in the world, whether in congruence or conflict’^[483]

‘The making self must be willing to give up what it currently is and, in being vulnerable and fallible, seek to revise itself through self-critique and adjustment. These are, in Michel Foucault's terms,

"techniques of the self" and a "hermeneutics of the self"—or, as he puts it, "techniques oriented toward the discovery and the formulation of the truth concerning oneself." For the curator, each exhibition is an initiation into this internal truth-seeking anew, an expedition in which the coherence of the self and its rendering of truth are forever at risk, since the means of interiorizing and processing what constitutes this truth are always revised by circumstance and surely by the tumults of hesitation and doubt. This is never a matter of comfort but instead a matter of query, which is a dislodgement of comfort— that is the curator's vocation, inwardly laboured over and outwardly refracted as concept, as argument, and sometimes as gauntlet’^[484]

‘So, Foucault remarks, "I mean the fact that one of the main moral obligations for any subject is to know oneself, to explore oneself, to tell the truth about oneself, and to constitute oneself as an object of knowledge both for other people and for oneself’^[485]

‘However, as biennials felt essentially exhausted in their methods and means, my initial response was to give it a contemporary funeral that would be alive, adaptive, and responsive to the logics of ancestral traditions and Korean rituals. Just that and nothing else—no dealing with the ailing building for the exhibition and no shipping works around the world (producing sky-high carbon emissions in the process). But I quickly understood this would not be feasible. This creature of a biennial had an entrenched bureaucracy and a budget gripped by the tentacles of local politics and national interests. An operatic move like the funeral wouldn't work, I realised; the politics of tenders and their beneficiaries were too real. Who were we to trouble this system and its moralities?’^[486]

‘What is a biennial? An assemblage. A breath of life into an imaginary. Rhizomatic, atomic calibrations in a carcass zone. Institutions and buildings, all built on ideas and ideals but also, at the same time, on mess, blood, corruption, complicity’^[487]

‘I initiated "Conscious Realities," a three-year multifaceted platform.' This undertaking not only emboldened my curatorial focus on the overlooked historical and cultural entanglements of the globalising souths but also made me realise the necessity-indeed, my responsibility-to better network its sites of artistic production, as opposed to the general art-world malady of fixating on its artistic display’^[488]

‘In Vietnam, universities lack comparative expertise and educational resources; its museums, libraries, and artistic spaces for creative encounters focus on heritage, what is

"modern," and, at worst, what is fashionably popular’^[489]

‘Our local artists responded to these collective closed-door discussions with glee and trepidation, listening to guests (in constant transla-tion) whose commitment to knowledge, cooperation, community, and cultural memory was incredibly powerful. Perhaps such spaces of conversation may be stereotyped in Western idioms as critique sessions. However, these gatherings were not about privileging hierarchy in disciplinary knowledge but rather privileging experience and introspection in interdisciplinarity across all stages and walks of life’^[490]

‘This means recognizing the vast differences between contexts of artistic production, curatorially activating such sites by inviting a community to spend time with an artist's methodology and the various skills, expertise, and interdisciplinary knowledge the artist employs toward creating that final artwork. For artists do undertake research in myriad different ways, with differing communities (human and nonhuman), and not always does such research find a seat in the final artwork. It is critical to understand and respect why this is so. Here lies the crux of the impact of this project on my curatorial labour, for I realised that to not spend time with such artistic spaces of production, to not question and converse with an artist's ideas in gestation, is to overlook the basis of an artist's motivations and concerns. For this process is indeed a highly edited space, one that must carefully consider economic, social, and political ramifications (as content can be considered sensitive, thus prompting detrimental forces in certain ideological/cultural contexts, such as surveillance or even arrest)’^[491]

‘I also gleaned that to not seek to learn from such a space is to align with the hegemonic art world and its thirst for the finished product as a material possession. In a world increasingly determined by capitalist markets, authoritarian regimes, and the virtuality of algorithmic-driven behaviours, I believe it is imperative that we value the research and methods of artists and their passion for what we cannot see-for our planet is indelibly governed by sight and its monetized value’^[492]

‘To participate is to think ethically about the differing contexts in which production happens. This means that if you build infrastructure for the arts, consider how you can contribute to the development of curatorial and artistic skills (recognizing that such expertise has only sparse educational resources across much of our region); if you collect contemporary art, consider how you can support your artists beyond just their names by also supporting their communities (by initiating, say, a scholarship or an award for the next generation, recognizing that the growth of the artists in your collection has been possible because of their communities); and if you make art, consider how you value success, understanding why your voice matters beyond the art market (recognizing that culture is a critical space of human memory that deserves to be valued beyond what is fashionable and purchasable)’^[493]

‘Every day the leadership required is a struggle, for our world is despicably consumed by culture as entertainment, with its gross oversight of the conditions its thirst exacerbates (i.e investment in trends, as opposed to critical ideas, and the desire for spectacle over and above social narratives of care). For me, however, artists always make this leadership worthwhile. Their ingenuity in storytell. ing can be our society's conscience and a source of our future resilience’^[494]

‘There is a presumed agency in the viewing experience of exhibitions, but the possibilities of what unfolds during the event are indeed as seemingly infinite as the corridors and doors, extending, enveloping’^[495]

‘In particular, the Museu de Arte de São Paulo (MASP), located on Rua 7 de Abril when it opened in 1947, deployed a system that was totally radical at the time and even today, in which paintings were "suspended from the ceiling and attached to the ground by tubular metal structures." In addition, a revised system was installed in 1950 that replaced the metal tubes with "thin panels suspended over the floor on steel cables," conveying a sense of ethereality and lucency. Perhaps Bo Bardi's most famous design, the Crystal Easel Picture Gallery (1957-58) at MASP, a picture of which has been on my desk for well over a decade, instigated a particular way to spatialize our armatures, off the wall, and to consider the dynamism that cross-viewing enables in a display. As well, the trace of her

"One Hundred Portinari Masterpieces, a 1970 exhibition at MASP that featured an open, wood-panelled system whose lab-yrinth-like scaffolding affixed the show's paintings to beams, is distinctly felt in "Quiet as It's Kept." See Tomás Toledo, "Lina Bo Bardi's Popular Museums," in Habitat, 126-28’^[496]

‘Even if humble in scale and of relatively short duration, "Suspensión de actividades" was one of my first collaborations and engagements with several ideas that have shaped my curatorial research and career. We responded to the need to create an archive and context for non-acknowledged stories (whether they are created in areas that are far away from the so-called centres or they emerged on the margins of the dominant culture)’^[497]

‘Here was the occasion to see curatorial practice as a continuous form of assembling ideas with a range of materials through an open script, one in which the elements that compose it don't need to fit tightly into a wall label or the derivative explanation of a text that accompanies an exhibition’^[498]

‘In any case, it was crucial for me to establish my own exhibition platform. Having the ability to build a discourse from the margins and be willing to experiment with exhibition formats has been far more satisfying than fully committing to a mainstream practice. One of the keys to maintaining your mental health in the art world is to have the ability to move between both kinds of spaces, both kinds of practices... and to continue to tell good stories’^[499]

‘I arrived in Riga one day after yet another COVID-19 lockdown was announced in late 2021, and this brought up another similarity with Athens: both countries suffered severely in the financial crisis of 2008. Businesses were shuttered; hospitals, and healthcare in general, went into rapid decline. That was the year the curator Solvita Krese, seeing all the vacant buildings in the centre of Riga, started Survival Kit, a contemporary art festival that, through creative practices, invoked a much-needed conversation about how to survive the financial catastrophe’^[500]

‘This preparatory period brought me to confront one of the most common conundrums of international curators doing biennials: how to understand and relate to a local reality when, really, we're just parachuting in for mere snippets of time’^[501]

‘This rather fetishistic display of Duchamp's artistic legacy exposes how a museum creates, cherishes, but also fixes its icons over time. At the same time, it demonstrates the true revolution in Duchamp's gesture of bringing quotidian objects into an art context, dissolving the boundaries between art and life, while interrogating how value-artistic, cultural, intellectual, monetary—is created through art's institutions.’^[502]

‘On Kawara’s postcard series I Got Up (1972). Between 1968 and 1979, Kawara sent two postcards every day to various figures in the art world. Each card was stamped with the time he got up that day, arguably abstracting life to the most rudimentary yet powerful signal, reminiscent of another body of the work: the telegram series I Am Still Alive’^[503]

‘At the same time, exhibition-making and exhibitions themselves provide moments in which institutional change can be set in motion and can even become apparent-which is, to put it simply, why I do what I do: to ensure that curatorial and institutional forms, labour, and thinking align with what artists are creating and, thus, need. This question of staging, finding the middle ground between architecture, scenography, and exhibition design, is necessarily an unfinished project, as it is happening in real time’^[504]

‘The project was born out of a friendship fueled on fervent exchanges about curatorial desires while unravelling the global idiosyncrasies of our times as experienced through artists' perspectives. It was a labour of love, instigated outside our "day jobs" and largely self-financed. This gave us the freedom to follow our intuitions and make the project what we wanted it to be, without institutional mandates’^[505]

‘Initiated in August 2005 in Culver City, Los Angeles, the backroom provided access to source materials that inform and support artists practise It was an evolving presentation of objects, books, films, magazines, music, photographs, ephemera, data, written anecdotes, and any other action or artefact that fed the creativity of the artists, who were from various disciplines’^[506]

‘The project was a spontaneous laboratory, a comfy library (complete with casual furniture and study desks) of artists relics, put on display and made available for use. ... the backroom suggested a space of slowness-art and socialising— a salon-like forum constructing a locale for discussion and contemplation. An evanescent enterprise for housing impermanent acts, the curators discuss the project with an interest in process over production, providing a temperament of dematerialization, liminality, and marginality’^[507]

‘Furthermore, in the presentation very few things were labelled apart from listing contributions under the artists' names in a binder, as a form of cross-reference. I think that one of the most interesting things about it is precisely the fact that with every potential restaging of the backroom its content will probably never be the same: new artists could be invited to participate, or current participants' interests may have shifted. I guess this is one of the more enjoyable things about this approach to curatorial work’^[508]

‘The format of biennials has been compared to a pendulum that swings every two years, recording not just the time but all the contradictions of an era’^[509]

1990s ‘era of the curator’ characterised by art critic Michael Breuson in 1998 - with the increase of international biennales organised by influential celebrity curators.

Paul O’Neil - ‘Curatorial Turn’ transition from practice to theory

Yet if curating constitutes itself as a discourse, it is because it implies consciousness of its own conditions of possibility and of the artistic, theoretical, social and institutional issues at play’^[511]

Curator as cultural agent of social change

Julie Bawin - ethnographic museums of ‘civilisation’ or ‘world culture’ have been introducing contemporary art into their programmes since the 1980s as a way to re-evaluate the ethnographic museums modes of presentation and classification and to represent their collections from a critical, postcolonial standpoint^[512]

We live in economies of ‘just in time’, on the use of ‘temporal time’ vs non-dominant concept of ‘social time’^[513]

[Slow curating] Denotes ‘slowness’ as an understanding of context with the aim ‘to facilitate space for cultural agency across a broad spectrum of the population while democratising the institution of the museum’^[514]

In ‘Could curating be in time?’, curator Binna Choi reflects, “The antithesis to busyness is not slowing down, nor immersing oneself in acceleration. Rather, it is to allow time, if possible, all different times and rhythms sensed, to create an almost mythical, prophetic sense of polyphony.” This echoes the anthropological understanding of social time^[515]

The contemporary Visual Arts exhibitionary complex has been increasingly tense, fragmenting and expanding^[516]

Major museums are ‘anchors of pseudo-democratic anachronism’ … ‘all are collection based as operate as banks of concentrated cultural value’^[517]

Museums slow down artistic time, layer it, spatialise it- ‘shaping time’ George Kubler^[518]

The deepest dynamic within the VAEC ensemble since the 1960s, has been the creative energy and innovation that enters through the smaller and most fragile, unite, then spreads upwards, inward, outward^[519]

Vasif Kortun- director of SALT

Exhibitions perform in the ‘present time’, meanwhile the institution is a heritage machine - bearing and asking questions around unresolved , ignored, absented and obscured stories from the past, and also negotiating, fermenting, testing out, in the best case, possible futures^[520]

We have multiple publics we are accountable to and need to take care of; a public that keeps arriving from an unresolved past, a past that will not go away, that has to be constantly confronted and pushed forward. Lastly, future public, which is why we do what we do^[521]

The institutional public is a plurality that does not privilege the moment (any decision we make in the moment has an effect on all three temporalities (three temporalities??))^[522]

Rise of the experience economy, within which visual imagery has become a pervasive currency, Neoliberal economic values shrink public sectors by privatising them, inevitably spreading to public sectors by privatising them^[523]

Strategy of Open Strike is a practice of critical engagement^[524]

The modern social contract is fragmented, VAECs are impacted daily by the failure of worldwide modern and traditional political models to manage contemporary crises. .. this requires all institutions and actors in VAECs to work against their deleterious effects and to combat them through an engaged criticality based on our commitments to social justice^[525]

[New Institutionalism] shifts away from the institutional framing of an art object as practised since the 1920s with elements such as the white cube, top-down organisation and outsider audiences^[526]

New Institutionalism as a valuable opportunity ‘to focus on the relation between artistic production, public institutions and social change’^[527]

There was less trust in the independent expertise of curators and leading posting became increasingly occupied by managers without a background in art history or theory^[528]

On the other hand it is claimed that a ‘ubiquitous biennale culture’ has created a whole generation of independent curators who have adopted experimental modes of handling various forms of display and models of work and who import this attitude to institutions quite independently of artistic practices^[529]

The reflexive examination of the conditions of institutional management of art (such as its linguistic and architectural framing enabled by institutional critique is continued by curators associated with New Institutionalism from their positions as agents within art institutions^[530]

Even though curators work more experimentally, the boundary that separates the (speaking) position of the artist from that of the curator has remained untouched^[531]

There were attempts at a shared, dialogical practice, where artists were invited to co-develop institutions conceptually and practically, be it through the design of the logo, the entrance hall or the archive but even in these scenarios curators remained the hosts, and artists the guests^[532]

New Institutionalism failed to engage much more than a relatively small, invited knowledge community^[533]

Interventions in the structures of art institutions always contain the potential of rendering the politics of these institutions visible, and thus generating new ways of speaking and thinking about the institutional organisation of the art-field - changes which in turn constitute new fields of action and enable us to engage with institutions as negotiable entities^[534]

‘They demonstrated how extensive group research is part of any curatorial process, which like art, is often curtailed by the lack of access to the means of production’ (Zagreb- based ‘What, How and for Whom’ collective)^[535]

The existence of the contemporary art field as a whole, and of each subfield within it, persists largely through their interrelation and mutual dependency. Without the fields of public and nonprofit exhibitions and academia, which elevate artworks to the status of public goods and affirm their symbolic worth beyond their economic value, the art market would disappear into the fields of luxury goods and financial investment. Without the meaning and social purpose provided by the academic field and by cultural activism, the field of art exhibitions would disappear into the fields of entertainment and popular, or elite, cultural spectacle. In the other direction, without the art market, the field of exhibitions would be starved of financial resources like so many performing arts platforms in which cultural capital is not objectified in rarified products^[536]

Fiction

‘For all its through traffic, constant din of vehicles, people in transit, none of whom intended to stop, and despite the constant trickle of decaying masonry, the place had come to a complete standstill; it was like one big theatre backdrop, a prop left by the side of a road which could be blown away in the next storm, or carried away in a flood’^[537]

‘The Oder drew a border line up and down the country, writing a Here and a There in the sandy earth. Under it, however, countless watery question marks and intertwining letters tugged in both directions, east and west, a water-script of histories granted continuity through the river, under it, beyond it, its tributaries and ramifications annotating the landscape, reversing its sides with befuddling mirror images of the sky and its blues of Here and There’^[538]

‘The girl reminded me of a sepulchral angel, its face worn by wind and weather; her skin was like porous stone, and her features had a certain flatness, as if they had been sandpapered to erase severity’^[539]

‘In all their eyes shone the hope of a purchase, the glint of a desire as yet unfixed on any shape, the unattached joy that anticipates taking something home to try out, use or put into action, something to put one in touch with one's own life’^[540]

‘There were similar houses on either side of the street; a century old now, they had learned in their increasing decrepitude to hang on to each other’^[541]

‘Sometimes there were even small pieces of furniture left by the side of the road; I could have done with them myself, but I feared that fate would enter my flat with the object, taking hold, making itself at home. At first it would sit quietly in its corner, but soon enough it would get cocky, tapping its feet, finally insisting on smoking and gossip’^[542]

‘In every doorway and at every wide-open window of a pub, people drank and drank and drank; they laughed and drank, stretching their arms out towards each other, as snippets and strings of music tumbled from doors and windows, flickering in the glare of flashing advertisements between the drinking, craving crowds, among whom the lonely paced this way and that, gradually losing hope, their hands grasping nothing over and over again, their naked arms covered in gooseflesh and their laughter bloodless and bland’^[543]

‘Here in London the reasons for erasing traces of the past may have been different from those in the country of my childhood, but the unhappiness that inhabited the drab chasms between the houses looked remarkably similar in both’^[544]

‘For all its through traffic, constant din of vehi-cles, people in transit, none of whom intended to stop, and despite the constant trickle of decaying masonry, the place had come to a complete standstill; it was like one big theatre backdrop, a prop left by the side of a road which could be blown away in the next storm, or carried away in a flood’^[545]

‘The historian and the writer of literature share two things, she has said, two important moments: first, when they enter the archive, excited but unknowing, and then when they discover the thing they did not know they were there to find, and they take it up, they choose it, to subvert it or betray it. Writing is a community-making practice, she has said. If we write, we write with others. Inescapably’^[546]

Amitav Ghosh says about recognition near the start of The Great Derangement: 'Recognition is famously a passage from ignorance to knowledge', but one that harks back to something prior, so that the knowledge we gain from recognition is not of the same kind as the discovery of something new: it arises rather from a renewed reckoning with a potentiality that lies within oneself’^[547]

A Shaker brother once said: 'It is the nature of all things to grow, and the faster they grow the worse they are?^[548]

‘Walking around, stumbling and lying between, to and from, Glasgow (where we are now) lightly holding the art that it massages loosely for that's what feels the most appropriate critical method’^[549]

‘depends on the person of course, but she thinks when most people enter a gallery they expect to be offered some kind of an explanation. The text can be read or folded up and put away in a bag for an undetermined, or unrealised, later'. Welcoming the viewer, the text offers a coat stand and a cool tall drink’^[550]

‘Ms Real ponders over the quote from Jean-Luc Nancy which also precedes the introduction. 'A body isn't empty. It's full of other bodies, pieces, organs [...] It's also full of itself: that's all it is. This exhibition is full of itself, she laughs. In fact, every exhibition really is full of it itself: that's all it is. Itself being many bodies, parts, organs, works, words, walls, technicians, cleaners, invigilators, etc’^[551]

‘....an insider-outsider dichotomy defines the contemporary position of critique and after all critique is the act of holding accountable something that we love that we want not just to survive but to flourish

...Yeah like on the threshold...

...and there's only two types of like articles these days which is like 'there's a vibe shift' or like 'the vibes are off'’^[552]

‘The sex was friendly. Don't get me wrong: if she'd loved me, I would have considered myself lucky to have been swept, even if by shipwreck, onto the shores of that particular life. But I was ten years younger than she was, and aware of how little a woman like Jill needed from a man like me’^[553]

‘Jill laughed. Her slow, lucky smile returned. She kissed me on the cheek in the way that meant I was dismissed for the night, and said, "Thanks, honey." She called everyone "honey": ... Being called "honey" meant nothing, but I was greedy for it anyway. I took it to bed with me and slept beside it all night’^[554]

‘his essay 'Art as Device, the Russian formalist critic Viktor Shklovsky argues that we perpetually grow habituated to everything around us-Habituation devours work, clothes, furniture, one's wife, and the fear of war...- and that the job of art is to make the world strange so that we might see it again rather than simply recognizing it out of habit. The way art does this is through a process he calls остранение, transliterated as ostranenie and translated as "defamiliarization" or, neologistically, as 'estrangement' (Le. enchantment + estrangement). 'Art exists so that one may recover the sensation of life', he writes, 'it exists to make one feel things, to make the stone, stony’^[555]

‘In 2007, a Frenchwoman named Rindy Sam kissed a white Cy Twombly canvas -part of a monochromatic triptych on display at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Avignon.

'I just gave it a kiss', she said. 'I thought the artist would understand? According to the BBC, restorers have tried '30 products' to get out the stain. The New York Times says Sam was wearing 'Bourjois's true red satin Rouge Best' when she kissed it. The owner of the Twombly sued for the painting's full multimillion-dollar value. One art blogger wrote: 'There are enormous questions at stake here!' Should the museum replace one white canvas with another white canvas? Would that second canvas be a Twombly? What if Twombly handed it over? Had Sam in fact brought value to the work? Coincidentally, her trial came days after a break-in at the Musée d'Orsay in Paris during which a group of vandals punched a hole through a Claude Monet scene of sailboats on a glittering Seine, the water like a mirror of the sky’^[556]

‘She came across as a nice fun girl mostly, except for moments late at night, when we were all out together. She would sometimes switch off like a light, and be found sat alone somewhere. When she met your eyes in this mood they would seem desperately amiable, with the impression of having waded through tears and mud and grey river slime to reach you. She would deny that anything was wrong if you asked her’^[557]

‘How are you holding up?' She whispered to me with rehearsed familial sensuality. I never understood why she spoke to me like this. To me, it seemed patronising and concerned, like I was fresh from another unlucky mishap that had taken my life off the rails; permanently flailing. I tried not to but felt she assumed a kind of implicit character failing, in her comfort with me being spoken to with such little power. She was not more successful than me. She had more friends than me perhaps on account of her mediocre and inoffensive personality, hoarding her network through her neutral diminishment. There was nothing at stake in our relationship. We had attended the same art school and never reached the level of intensity. We only knew of each other, and saw each other at ritual occasions, in the ways that families do‘^[558]

‘It would seem clichéd to say that everyone else knew about art and artists and I didn't, but it was what I felt. Knowing it was untrue wasn't enough to dissuade the feeling. You can't argue with the weather, which is how all-encompassing my waves of incompetence felt. I tried to prepare for it, on heavy days I stayed indoors.’^[559]

‘So with the house empty and the doors locked and the mattresses rolled round, those stray airs, advance guards of great armies, blustered in, brushed bare boards, nibbled and fanned, met nothing in bedroom or drawing-room that wholly resisted them but only hangings that flapped, wood that creaked, the bare legs of tables, saucepans and china already furred, tarnished, cracked. What people had shed and left - a pair of shoes, a shooting cap, some faded skirts and coats in wardrobes - these alone kept the human shape and the emptiness indicated how once they were filled and animated; how once hands were busy with hooks and buttons; how once the looking glass had held a face; had held a world hallowed out in which a figure turned, a hand flashed, the door

opened, in came children, rushing and tumbling; and went out again’^[560]

But its author was wrong; there is an unredeemed tragedy in this book: the thought of the brilliant young doctor Lydgate becoming a fat-at consultant to the gouty rich is insupportable. It is particularly unbearable because his decline is brought about by Rosamund (Elio's publisher John Blackwood, called Rosamund a 'highly polished picture of a 'heartless, obstinate devil, painted on the hardest possible piece of panel')^[561] George Elliot - Middlemarch

Towards the end we are told that he 'once called [Rosamund] his basil plant; and when she asked for an explanation, said that basil was a plant that flourished wonderfully on a murdered man's brains^[562]

‘For five years of my life I was never alone for a single instant; in bed, in the kitchen, shopping, gardening, always someone very near to me, touching me most of the time. I felt sometimes as though I could come to hate the crowding people who were really so dear to me. Is it in one of these momentary spasms of impatient desire to get alone for a few minutes that murders are sometimes done?'^[563]

A book is more than a verbal structure or series of verbal structures; it is the dialogue it establishes with its reader and the intonation it imposes upon his voice and the changing and durable images it leaves in his memory. This dialogue is infinite^[564]

A book is not an isolated being: it is a relationship, an axis of innumerable relationships. One literature differs from another, prior or posterior, less because of the text than because of the way in which it is read: if I were granted the possibility of reading any present-day page - this one, for example - as it will be read in the year two thousand, I would know what the literature of the year two thousand will be like^[565]

That is, that women are not nearly so passionless as husbands or harem-holders might wish. Sequestration, veiling, foot-binding, and clitori-dectomy, along with less extreme tactics utilised by men to suppress women's sexuality, would not be needed if women truly lacked libido, or if they seldom indulged in extramarital affairs l9 "Women's readiness to engage in sexual activity is great enough," Hrdy points out, "that the majority of the world's cultures-most of which determine descent through the male line-have made some effort to control it^[566]

"men tend to control resources and power worldwide"; they use their economic and political advantage to exercise domination over women, with special emphasis on women's sexual behaviour^[567]

*It is in works of imagination," Joseph Carroll points out, "that people articulate the quality of their experience, make sense of it, and feel its significance and value "26 To underline her chosen themes-the "sense" she makes of human experience-Millay favours hyperbole, frequently supported by irony and wit. In character and in situation, she exploits the power of exaggeration to command audience attention. Her recklessly passionate female personae pose defiant contrast to the ethereal conceptions of womanliness prevailing in her social environment^[568]

The love that stood a moment in your eyes,

The words that lay a moment on your tongue,

Are one with all that in a moment dies,

A little under-said and over-sung^[569]

Theme and Variations, the speaker compares herself to a "hall, now vacant because no lovers remain to populate it (line 5). She emphasises the high quality of men whom she has by turns "loved badly" or "too soon, claiming nevertheless that "the very rafters of this room /Are honoured by the guests it had" (lines 3, 4, 11-12)^[570]

As poem after poem illustrates, concentrating on the time-limited nature of a relationship helps a woman to retain the upper hand in it. Anticipating the end of an affair even in the "pearled and roseate" days of its beginning discourages the development of long-term expectations ("What thing is this," line 7). Thus guarded from anxieties, women can yield to romantic "bliss" while remaining in charge of their own destinies (line 12)^[571]. 201

‘Reality in the North is thinner than anywhere else, like a jumper worn out at the elbows, and the other world shines through it’^[572]

‘Your gaze scans the streets as if they were written pages: the city says everything you must think, makes you repeat her discourse, and while you believe you are visiting Tamara you are only recording the names with which she defines herself and all her parts. However the city may really be, beneath this thick coating of signs, whatever it may contain or conceal, you leave Tamara without having discovered it’^[575]

‘Impression produced by landscape, a street or a house should always, to the novelist, be an event in the history of the soul’^[576]

Misc

“If I am condemned, I shall be annihilated to nothing: but my ambition is such, as I would either be a world, or nothing.”^[577]

“I regard the theater as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being. This supremacy of the theater derives from the fact that it is always "now" on the stage.”^[578] ‘On the stage it is always now: the personages are standing on that razor-edge, between the past and the future, which is the essential character of conscious being’ ref 43 p136^[579]

Benjamin describes the vanishing point of history as always being the present moment. This formulation of history - thinking about the present moment as the point where history actually vanishes - is an interesting way of reversing the more received notion of history as something which seems to be vanishing somewhere behind us, vanishing into a nonexistent time, a time that no longer exists. I think that by switching [this notion] around and placing (the vanishing point in the present moment, we activate our sense of history and our sense of the past. [Benjamin's notion] forces us to confront history as a construction. It implies that when we reconsider past events, we're not so much going to another time and retrieving material or events. We are restaging those events here and now in order to think about what's happening here and now, to think about the present^[580]

Quoted from a lecture at The Slade School of Fine Art, University College London, November 2006.

Buckingham takes the idea of the 'vanishing point' from Susan Buck-Morss's reading of Benjamin. She has written that Benjamin 'understood historical "perspective" as a focus on the past that made the present, as revolutionary "now-time", its vanishing point' See Susan Buck-Morss, The Dialectics of Seeing (Cambridge, Mass. and London: MIT Press, 1991, p.339.^[582]

"The work is a death mask of its conception." ('a written text is the death mask of the thought that produced it.) Walter Benjamin

The problem with wearing a facade is that sooner or later life shows up with a big pair of scissors. – Craig D. Lounsbrough

They take their pratfalls not because they are stupid, or careless, or distracted, but because they are too attentive to the task at hand. It's Ollie's fastidiousness that leads to the loss of his trousers, Stan's extreme care that means he will inevitably hammer that nail into a water pipe, or massage his friend's foot instead of his own.

This sort of diligence with regard to things marks the slapstick artist out as a comic dandy, an aesthete with regard to his own body and the objects it touches.

(That his assiduity rebounds on him is almost, in the best slapstick performances, beside the point.)^[583]

‘All intimacy hides from view, and I recall that the last Joe Bousquet wrote:^[584]

No one sees me changing. But who sees me? I am my own hiding place^[585]

I'm not saying that popular taste is bad so that what's leftover from the bad taste is good: I'm saying that what's left over is probably bad, but if you can take it and make it good or at least interesting, then you're not wasting as much as you would otherwise.

Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol (From A to B and Back Again)

I count no man a Philosopher who hath not, be it before the court of his Conscience or at the assizes of his Intellect, accused himself of a scurrilous Invention, and stood condemned by his own Judgement a brazen Charlatan.

Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy

How, then, to deal with a clearly cultivated vandal?

Ateleven a.m. on March 10, 1914, Mary Richardson smashed the glass in front of the Rokeby Venus in the National Gallery in London, and was seen "hacking furiously at the picture with a chopper which, it is assumed, she had concealed under her jacket." As she was wasting away, Richardson shouted: "Yes, I am a Suffragette. You can get another picture, but you cannot get a life, as they are killing Mrs. Pankhurst^[586]

Such dreams [of childhood] settle our daydreaming and we reach a point where we begin to doubt that we ever lived where we lived. Our past is situated somewhere else, and both time and place are impregnated with a sense of unreality. It is as though we are sojourned in a limbo of being’^[587]

Art, considered in its highest vocation, is and remains for us a thing of the past^[588]

By 'modernity' I mean the ephemeral, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art whose other half is the eternal and the immutable^[589]

Exhibitions were a timekeeper of progress^[590]

Political use-value driven by artistic love-value^[591]

Today we are mired in a stalled relativism^[592]

And the last remnants the memory destroys^[593] W.G. Sebald

If a city hasn’t been used by an artist not even the inhabitants live there imaginatively^[594]

'to see something as art requires something the eye cannot decry - an atmosphere of artistic theory, a knowledge of the history of art: an artworld‘^[595] REF17

‘As Found’ referring not only to adjacent buildings but also to all those marks that constitute ‘remembrances’ within a place, marks that are to be read as a means of finding out how the existing built fabric of the place had come to be as it was^[596]

Reconstruction destroys a dream and that it cannot, by way of recompense, recreate^[597]

All our categories of authority and reality are metaphors, human constructions, poetic figures answering to the imagination in each one of us^[598] - William Blake

Bazin asserts that "the universality and hypertrophy of cities announces the decline of a civilisation ... that instinctive feeling of recoil before the future which throws man back on his past."^[599]

Museums are managers of consciousness. They give us an interpretation of history, of how to view the world and locate ourselves in it. They are, if you want to put it in positive terms, great educational institutions. If you want to put it in negative terms, they are propaganda machines - Hans Haacke

Go on reading until you can hear people talking^[600]

I produce heat and light and also a great deal of rubbish^[601]

On the contrary, its intention is to close the books on the past and, if possible, even remove it from memory. The attitude that everything should be forgotten and forgiven, which would be proper for those who suffered injustice, is practised by those party supporters who committed the injustice^[602]

‘intention .. to close the books on the past and, if possible, even remove it from memory’ Theodore Adorno

The assumption of the modern 'autobiographical turn, that - there exists and has existed an urge to tell the self, and that it comes from within, is of very little help in hearing these eighteenth-cen-tury cases of enforced narration. And for the moment, it is impossible to move beyond these suggestions, that the modern literary articulation of selfhood and character had one of its origins among the poorer sort, when their verbal accounts of themselves, told before a magistrate, were recorded by others.^[603]

As D. J. Enright put it in his poem

"Vandalism": "Since the object in question is a modern poem, / A police spokesman stated yesterday, / It is hard to tell whether it has been damaged / Or not or how badly."^[604]

Michelangelo's snowman for Piero de Medici in the winter of 1492 in Florence is well known (as is Vasari's opinion that it was a decadent action to set a master to making a snowman), and as early as 1422, in the Papacy of the Netherlandish pope Hadrian v, there were lions of snow in the streets of Rome.' The listing of the Brussels figures from 1511 survives, from which it would appear that there were more than a hundred figures, life-size or larger in the snowy streets^[605]

Late 19th century characterised by Edith Wharton as ‘a kind if hieroglyphic world , where the real thing was never said or done or ever thought, but only represented by a set of arbitrary signs’^[606]

‘And thus in other respects Wit will mend upon our hands, and Humour will refine it-self; if we take care not to tamper with it, and bring it under Constraint, by severe Usage and rigorous Prescriptions. All Politeness is owing to Liberty. We polish one another, and rub off our Corners and rough Sides by a sort of amicable Collision. To restrain this, is inevitably to bring a Rust upon Mens Understandings. ‘Tis a destroying of Civility, Good Breeding, and even Charity it-self, under pretence of maintaining it’^[607]

‘The entire contemporary cultural world has been transformed into [...] a city [...] Telephones, aeroplanes, express trains, elevators moving machines, sidewalks, factory chimneys, stony heaps of buildings, soot and smoke are the elements of beauty in the new nature of the city’^[608]

‘Evidently a different nature opens itself to the camera than opens itself to the naked eye [..] The camera intervenes with the resources of its lowerings and liftings, its interruptions and isolations, its extensions and accelerations, its enlargements and reductions. The camera introduces us to unconscious optics as does psychoanalysis to unconscious impulses’^[609]

‘It should not be for the artist to manipulate themselves into corporate behaviours to make the collector comfortable. Instead, it behoves those who patronise the art world to accommodate its denizens' susceptibility to the influence of the Hermit^[610]

‘Modernity did away with total vision as well as total knowledge, replacing a sense of a cohesive self with a new order in which we construct ourselves through action and speech. Machines, as appendages of our own bodies, often mediate and even direct such a construction’^[611]

‘Recalling in 1960 the process of making her iconic photograph Migrant Mother for the Farm Security Administration in 1936 …photographer Dorothea Lange wrote: "You put your camera around your neck in the morning, along with putting on your shoes, and there it is, an appendage of the body that shares your life with you’^[612]

‘Kleist suggested a cerebral tug of war between excitation aroused by the anticipation of speaking- and its diffusal in the act of speaking. The easily tipped scale of mental energy that von Kleist described is akin to the mental regulation of excitation by stability derived from unpleasure delineated by Sigmund Freud in Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920)’^[613]

‘Our world is filled with machines and ideas that threaten to separate our consciousness from our corporeal reality and its relations to our surrounding world. The challenge today seems not to identify that separation, as it was for von Kleist, but the ability to put ourselves back together again. Is it possible to reconstruct the self as whole from fragments of our memories, experiences and mediated realities, even while accepting total knowledge as a bygone myth? Perhaps it is, in the expanded social field-the realm in which von Kleist saw the possibility of thought through speech that we might find ourselves reflected back as cohesive and knowable. We might ask each other to open our eyes, to see and be seen as more unbelievably whole than plausibly fragmentary, whether as proximal friends or faraway audience’^[614]

"Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me; try to discern the doe in me, trembling in the forest of my own iniquity; let's even smile a little. After all, there is no harm in smiling."^[615]

As de Beauvoir writes, “The [pubescent] girl feels that her body is escaping her, that it is no longer the clear expression of her individuality; it becomes foreign to her; and at the same moment, she is grasped by others as a thing: on the street, eyes follow her, her body is subject to comments; she would like to become invisible; she is afraid of becoming flesh and afraid to show her flesh.”^[616]

Museum

The German word museal (museumlike] has unpleasant overtones. It describes objects to which the observer no longer has a vital relationship and which are in the process of dying. They owe their preservation more to historical respect than to the needs of the present. Museums and mausoleums are connected by more than phonetic association. Museums are like the family sepulchres of works of art -Theodor W. Adorno, Valéry Proust Museum

Such a fiction is the result of an uncritical belief in the notion that ordering and classifying, that is to say, the spatial juxtaposition of fragments, can produce a representational understanding of the world. Should the fiction disappear, there is nothing left of the Museum but "bric-a-brac," a heap of meaningless and valueless fragments of objects which are incapable of substituting themselves either metonymically for the original objects or metaphorically for their representations^[617]

Any work of art that can be photographed can take its place in Malraux's super-museum. But photography not only secures the admittance of objects, fragments of objects, details, etc., to the museum, it is also the organising device: it reduces the now even vaster heterogeneity to a single perfect similitude. Through photographic reproduction a cameo takes up residence on the page next to a painted tondo and a sculpted relief; a detail of a Rubens in Antwerp is compared to that of a Michelangelo in Rome. The art historian's slide lecture, the art-history student's slide comparison exam belong in the museum without walls^[618]

Archeological origins are important in two ways: each archeo-ogical artefact has to be an original artefact, and these original artefacts must in turn explain the "meaning" of a subsequent larger history^[619]

The set of objects the Museum displays is sustained only by the fiction that they somehow constitute a coherent representational universe. The fiction is that a repeated metonymic displacement of fragment for totality, object to label, series of objects to series of labels, can still produce a representation which is somehow adequate to a nonlinguistic universe. Such a fiction is the result of an uncritical belief in the notion that ordering and classifying, that is to say, the spatial juxtaposition of fragments, can produce a representational understanding of the world. Should the fiction disappear, there is nothing left of the Museum but "bric-a-brac," a heap of meaningless and valueless fragments of objects which are incapable of substituting themselves either metonymically for the original objects or metaphorically for their representations^[620] Donato, p. 223

Critique

‘We cannot help him until he has mastered the art of artistic identification and so constitutes it a work of art. If he cannot achieve this, he will never look upon artworks: he will be like a child who sees sticks as sticks^[621]

What in the end makes the difference between a Brillo box and a work of art consisting of a Brillo Box is a certain theory of art. It is the theory that takes it up into the world of art, and keeps it from collapsing into the real object which it is (in a sense of is other than that of artistic identification). ‘Of course, without the theory, one is unlikely to see it as art, and in order to see it as part of the artworld, one must have mastered a good deal of artistic theory as well as a considerable amount of the history of recent New York painting. It could not have been art fifty years ago. But then there could not have been, everything being equal, flight insurance in the Middle Ages, or Etruscan typewriter erasers. The world has to be ready for certain things, the artworld no less than the real one’^[622]

Countless native speakers hung upon suburban mantelpieces innumerable replicas of paradigm cases for teaching the expression 'work of art' that would have sent their Edwardian forebears into linguistic apoplexy^[623]

Thus the 'naturalization of the cultural,' seen by Roland Barthes as an essential characteristic of photographic discourse, is repeated and reinforced at virtually every level of the cultural apparatus - unless it is interrupted by criticism.^[624]

Art and illusion, illusion and art

Are you really here or is it only art?

Am I really here or is it only art?

-Laurie Anderson^[625]

In his famous alack against minimal sculpture, written in 1967, the critic Michael Fried predicted the demise of art as we then knew it, that is, the art of modernist abstract painting and sculpture. "Art degenerates," he warned us, "as it approaches the condition of theatre," theater being, according to Fried's argu-ment, "what lies between the arts."^[626]

Poems

“When you go,

if you go,

And I should want to die,

there's nothing I'd be saved by

more than the time

you fell asleep in my arms

in a trust so gentle

I let the darkening room

drink up the evening, till

rest, or the new rain

lightly roused you awake.

I asked if you heard the rain in your dream

and half dreaming still you only said, I love you.”^[627]

‘Little boxes, on the hillside
Little boxes, made of ticky-tacky
Little boxes, all the same
And the people, in the houses
All went to the university
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same

Little boxes, on the hillside
Little boxes, made of ticky-tacky
Little boxes, all the same
And the people, in the houses
All went to the university
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same’^[628]

‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her’^[629]

[1] Gaston Bachelard, Poetics of Space, p.97- Bergson, La Pensee et le Mouvant p.172

[2] Dust, Caroline Steedman

[3] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan p229

[4] Mark Godfrey, The Artist as Historian, p2

[5] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007, “The Artist as Historian", Mark Godfrey

[6] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007, “The Artist as Historian", Mark Godfrey

[7] Caroline Steedman, Something Like a Fever, ref 10/8

[8] E Ketelaar, Archivalisation and Archiving, Archives and Manuscripts p54-61

[9] Hal Foster, An Archival Impulse

[10] Schwartz and Cook, Archives, Records and Power, p10

[11] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster, p4

[12] Steedman, The Space of Memory p72 (Art + Archive, Sara Callahan)

[13] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 58

[14] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 59

[15] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 59

[16] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 60

[17] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 60

[18] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 69

[19] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 86

[20] Introduction: Asking the Question: Why ‘What is Research in the Visual Arts? Obsession, Archive, Encounter”?, Marquand Smith, xxi

[21] Introduction: Asking the Question: Why ‘What is Research in the Visual Arts? Obsession, Archive, Encounter”?, Marquand Smith, xvi

[22] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster

[23] Dust, Caroline Steedman, p3

[24] Dust, Caroline Steedman, p5

[25] Dust, Caroline Steedman, p6

[26] Dust, Caroline Steedman, p10

[27] Dust, Caroline Steedman, p5

[28] Dust, Caroline Steedman, p11

[29] Dust, Caroline Steedman, p12

[30] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster

[31] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007,“The Artist as Historian’, Mark Godfrey, 13

[32] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p.244

[33] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p262

[34] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p262

[35] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p264

[36] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p264

[37] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p265

[38] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p267

[39] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p268

[40] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p269

[41] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p275

[42] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p277

[43] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p279

[44] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p281

[45] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p282

[46] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p248

[47] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p294

[48] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster

[49] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster page 15

[50] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster 15

[51] Foucault archeology

[52] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster 17

[53] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan p58

[54] Steedman, Dust p18

[55] C Hamilton, Archive Fever (a seminar by Jacques Derrida) p54

[56] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan p 59

[57] A. Farge, The Allure of the Archives p6 (Art + Archive, Sara Callahan)

[58] Assman, Canon and Archive p106 (Art + Archive, Sara Callahan)

[59] A. Erll and A. Nunning, Cultural Memory Studies: An International and Interdisciplinary Handbook (Art + Archive, Sara Callahan)

[60] Eliasson, Foucault's Begreper p87 (Art + Archive, Sara Callahan)

[61] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster ref 37 page 16

[62] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster page 5

[63] Patio and Pavilion - Alison Smithson

[64] Patio and Pavilion - Alison Smithson

[65] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[66] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[67] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[68] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[69] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[70] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[71] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[72] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[73] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[74] Derrida, from Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[75] Susan Pearce, On collecting: an investigation into collecting in the European tradition 1999

[76] Derrida, archive Fever from Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[77] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[78] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[79] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[80] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon 57 -See Hans Haacke, 'Museums, managers of consciousness', in Art in America, 72/ 2, 1984, pp 9- 17

[81] Georges Bazin, The Museum

age, Brussels: Desoer, 1967 p5

[82] Philosopher Peter Sloterdijk, Le Palais de Cristal in Beaux arts magazine, in Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[83] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 1

[84] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 1

[85] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 14

[86] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 15

[87] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 21, Schaffer, Deep Storage, p61

[88] von Bismarck, Feldman and Obrist, Interactive, p417

[89] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 32, D H Jones, Installation Art and the Practices of Archivalism p3

[90] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 33, ref 90 Jaimie Baron The Archive Effect, p 1

[91] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 36, ref 104 Connarty, p7 introduction in reference to the the text by Lucy Reynolds including the the Ghosting series

[92] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 40

[93] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 41

[94] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 41, ef 135 Enwezor, Archive Fever p26

[95] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 41, ref 136 Enwezor, Archive Fever p11

[96] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 42, ref 143 Merewether, Introduction: Art and the Archive, p17

[97] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 42

[98] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 43, ref 153 Enwezor, Archive Fever p47

[99] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 44, ref Schaffner Deep Storage p58

[100] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 44, Archive Fever p23

[101] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 44, Archive Fever p24

[102] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci p7

[103] Roelstraete, The Way of the Shovel (Art + Archive, Sara Callahan)

[104] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 3

[105] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 3

[106] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 3

[107] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 4

[108] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 4

[109] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 4

[110] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 4-5

[111] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 5

[112] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 5

[113] The Archive in Contemporary Art: a literature review, Louise Boscacci 5

[114] John Akomfrah – Why History Matters | TateShots

[115] Caroline Steedman, Dust, 38

[116] Jules Michelet, ‘Jusqu’au 18 Brumaire’ 1872-74, Oeuvres Complètes, p 268 (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p39)

[117] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p45

[118] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p42

[119] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p45

[120] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p55

[121] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p67

[122] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p68

[123] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p67

[124] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p67

[125] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p68

[126] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p68

[127] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p69

[128] Michelet, Caroline Steedman, Dust, p71

[129] Giambattista Vico, The New Science of Giambattista Vico, trans. Thomas Goddard Bergin and Max Harold Fisch (NewYork, Double- day, [1744] 1961), pp. 52-3; McCalla, 'Romantic Vicos', pp. 401-2; Wilson, To the Finland Station, p. 3. (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p71)

[130] Stephen Bann, The Clothing of Clio. A Study of the Representations of History in Nineteenth Century Britain and France (Cambridge, ~84 Cambridge University Press, 1984), pp. 15-16; Romanticism and the Rise of History (Boston, Twayne, 1995), p. 110. (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p72)

[131] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p72

[132] Terry Eagleton, The Rape of Clarissa. Writing, Sexuality and Class Struggle in Samuel Richardson (Oxford, Blackwell, 1982), pp. 54-5. (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p74)

[133] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p75

[134] Bann, The Clothing of Clio, pp. 15-16. (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p76)

[135] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p76

[136] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p77

[137] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p90

[138] Donald M. Lowe, History of Bourgeois Perception (Brighton, Harvester, 1982), pp. 40-1. ( Caroline Steedman, Dust, p91)

[139] Kate Flint, ‘The Mote Within the Eye’; Dust and Victorian Vision, p53

[140] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p.146

[141] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p.154

[142] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p.162

[143] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p.146

[144] Kate Flint, ‘The Mote Within the Eye’; Dust and Victorian Vision, p59

[145] Allan Sekula, Reading an Archive, 444

[146] Allan Sekula, Reading an Archive, 444

[147] Allan Sekula, Reading an Archive, 444

[148] Allan Sekula, Reading an Archive, 445

[149] Allan Sekula, Reading an Archive, 448

[150] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives, -

[151] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives, -

[152] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives, -

[153] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives, -

[154] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives,

[155] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives,

[156] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives, 41

[157] Eric Ketelaar,Tacit Narratives: The Meanings of Archives, 40

[158] Gaston Bachelard, Poetics of Space, p. 79. In reference to The House of Breath novel, Goyer

[159] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p113

[160] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p.124

[161] Gaston Bachelard, Poetics of Space, p. 82

[162] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 105

[163] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 109

[164] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[165] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[166] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[167] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[168] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[169] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[170] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[171] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[172] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[173] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[174] ‘Our Tyne’ Iconic regeneration and the revitalisation of identity in NewcastleGateshead, Steven Miles 2004/5

[175] Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, 78- Rilke, Notebook of Malte Laurids Brigge p33

[176] Approaching Home: New Perspectives on the Domestic interior p7

[177] Approaching Home: New Perspectives on the Domestic interior p9 ref 25

[178] Approaching Home: New Perspectives on the Domestic interior p9

[179] Approaching Home: New Perspectives on the Domestic interior p11 ref 28

[180] https://www.designcurial.com/news/pure-folly-4294810

[181] Giuliana Bruno, Modernist Ruins, Filmic Archaeologies 2003

[182] Giuliana Bruno, Modernist Ruins, Filmic Archaeologies 2003

[183] Mies in the Basement article, Andres Jaque

[184] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster

[185] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 105

[186] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 105

[187] Osaka Follies, Diana Periton, P82

[188] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 107

[189] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 107

[190] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 109

[191] Walter Benjamin, The Arcades Project, from Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 111

[192] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 111

[193] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 112

[194] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 113

[195] Black Horizon Pavilion

[196] Black Horizon Pavilion

[197] Black Horizon Pavilion

[198] Black Horizon Pavilion

[199] Black Horizon Pavilion

[200] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 114

[201] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 114

[202] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 114

[203] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 115

[204] Pavilion Politics, Adrea Phillips 115

[205] Brian Dillon, ObjectS In This Mirror, 297

[206] Aesthetics of Decay: Nothingness, Nostalgia, and the Absence of Reason, Robert Ginsberg,

preface

[207] Aesthetics of Decay: Nothingness, Nostalgia, and the Absence of Reason, Robert Ginsberg,

preface

[208] esthetics of Decay: Nothingness, Nostalgia, and the Absence of Reason, Robert Ginsberg,

preface

[209] Experience and Poverty, Walter Benjamin, 1933

[210] Experience and Poverty, Walter Benjamin, 1933

[211] Experience and Poverty, Walter Benjamin, 1933

[212] "The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 21

[213] "The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 23

[214] The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 23

[215] "The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 23

[216] "The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 35

[217] Conservation and Regeneration: Complementary or Conflicting Processes? The Case of Grainger Town, Newcastle Upon Tyne, John Pendlebury, 3

[218] Conservation and Regeneration: Complementary or Conflicting Processes? The Case of Grainger Town, Newcastle Upon Tyne, John Pendlebury, 5

[219] Conservation and Regeneration: Complementary or Conflicting Processes? The Case of Grainger Town, Newcastle Upon Tyne, John Pendlebury, 7

[220] Conservation and Regeneration: Complementary or Conflicting Processes? The Case of Grainger Town, Newcastle Upon Tyne, John Pendlebury, 17

[221] Conservation and Regeneration: Complementary or Conflicting Processes? The Case of Grainger Town, Newcastle Upon Tyne, John Pendlebury, 18

[222] Everyday Camouflage in the City, Rafael Gomez-Moriana

[223] Everyday Camouflage in the City, Rafael Gomez-Moriana

[224] Everyday Camouflage in the City, Rafael Gomez-Moriana

[225] Everyday Camouflage in the City, Rafael Gomez-Moriana

[226] Everyday Camouflage in the City, Rafael Gomez-Moriana

[227] Ruins, Gilda WIlliams, It Was what it Was: Modern Ruins, 2010

[228] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 133

[229] Ruins, Andreas Huyssen ‘Authentic Ruins’ 2006

[230] Ruins, Andreas Huyssen ‘Authentic Ruins’ 2006

[231] Everyday Camouflage in the City, Rafael Gomez-Moriana

[232] Aesthetics of Decay: Nothingness, Nostalgia, and the Absence of Reason, Robert Ginsberg,

Preface, 20

[233] Aesthetics of Decay: Nothingness, Nostalgia, and the Absence of Reason, Robert Ginsberg,

Preface, 20

[234] Ruins, Andreas Huyssen ‘Authentic Ruins’ 2006

[235] Rose Macaulay, A Note on New Ruins 1953

[236] Counterpreservation as a concept p22

[237] Rose Macaulay, A Note on New Ruins 1953

[238] Counterpreservation as a concept p22

[239] Counterpreservation as a concept p22

[240] Brian Dillon, Objects In This Mirror, 309

[241] Counterpreservation as a concept p25

[242] Counterpreservation as a concept p26

[243] Counterpreservation as a concept p26 ref 12 Svetlana Boym- The future of nostalgia p 41

[244] Counterpreservation as a concept p26 ref 13 Svetlana Boym- Architecture of the Off-Modern

[245] Counterpreservation as a concept p27 ref 15 Harold Kalman, Heritage Planning: principles and process

[246] Counterpreservation as a concept p28 ref 19 Barnstone, the transparent state p190

[247] Counterpreservation as a concept p29

[248] Counterpreservation as a concept p30 ref 23 Goebel ‘Berlin’s Architectural Citations

[249] Counterpreservation as a concept p30

[250] Counterpreservation as a concept p31 ref 25 Jorge Ottero-Pailos ‘ the contemporary stamp of incompleteness, future anterior

[251] Counterpreservation as a concept p32 ref 27 James Young, the texture of memory: holocaust memorials and mourning

[252] Counterpreservation as a concept p34 ref 30 Walter Benjamin The Origin of German Tragic Drama

[253] Counterpreservation as a concept p34 Walter Benjamin The Origin of German Tragic Drama

[254] Counterpreservation as a concept p35

[255] Counterpreservation as a concept 35 ref 31 Elizabeth Spelman Repair: The impulse to restore in a fragile world p113

[256] Counterpreservation as a concept 35 ref 31 Elizabeth Spelman Repair: The impulse to restore in a fragile world p113

[257] Counterpreservation as a concept p37 ref37 John Ruskin the virtues of architecture 43-44

[258] Counterpreservation as a concept p38

[259] Counterpreservation as a concept p45 ref 56 Lefebvre, production of space

[260] Counterpreservation as a concept p45

[261] Aesthetics of Decay: Nothingness, Nostalgia, and the Absence of Reason, Robert Ginsberg,

preface

[262] Henry James, Italian Hours

[263] The Fall of Public Man - Richard Sennett

[264] Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life, (Le Figaro), 1863)

[265] Patrick J.McCarthy, Matthew Arnold and the Three Classes(New York, Columbia University Press, 1964), pp. 106-38. Stefan Collin, Matthew Arnold. A Critical Portrait (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1994), pp. 76-88, 110-19. (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p105)

[266] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p55

[267] Ruins, Andrea Huyssen, Authentic Ruins, 2006

[268] The Fall of Public Man - Richard Sennett

[269] The Fall of Public Man - Richard Sennett

[270] The Fall of Public Man - Richard Sennett

[271] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p90

[272] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p90

[273] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p90

[274] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p91

[275] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p91

[276] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p100

[277] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p101, ref Giorgio Agamben: “On Potentiality” in Giorgio Agamben, Potentialities, (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press 1999) pp.177–184

[278] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p102

[279] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p102

[280] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p102

[281] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p107

[282] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p108

[283] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p109

[284] Heidegger on Melancholia, Deep Boredom and the Inability to Be, Kevin Aho

[285] Heidegger on Melancholia, Deep Boredom and the Inability to Be, Kevin Aho

[286] Heidegger on Melancholia, Deep Boredom and the Inability to Be, Kevin Aho, 217

[287] Experience and Poverty, Walter Benjamin, 1933

[288] Experience and Poverty, Walter Benjamin, 1933

[289] Experience and Poverty, Walter Benjamin, 1933

[290] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold p266

[291] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 267

[292] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 267

[293] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 267

[294] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold

[295] The Glasgow Herald. April 20 1907 from Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 274

[296] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 274, quoting from Tom Johnston in Forward [magazine] 22 April 1911

[297] The Glasgow Evening News, 1 May 1911

[298] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 268

[299] Neil Munro, Leabhar a’Clachain- Home Life of the Highlanders 1400 - 1746, printed for the Highland Village Ass. Ltd 1911 Glasgow

[300] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 274

[301] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold 274

[302] Glasgow Chamber of Commerce Journal, 44, 1959 p241

[303] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold footnote 93

[304] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold

[305] Bann, The Clothing of Clio, pp. 15-16. (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p77)

[306] Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold conc

[307] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p5

[308] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p11

[309] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p27

[310] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p27

[311] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p39

[312] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p110

[313] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p124

[314] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p129

[315] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p131, Charles Jencks, The Language of Postmodern Architecture, London 1984; What is Postmodernism?, London 1986.

[316] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p150

[317] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p150

[318] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p151

[319] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p152

[320] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p161

[321] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p163

[322] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p169

[323] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p176

[324] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p179

[325] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p179

[326] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p179

[327] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p179

[328] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p180

[329] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p183

[330] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p182

[331] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p187

[332] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p189

[333] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p191

[334] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p191

[335] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p192

[336] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p192

[337] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p197

[338] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p218

[339] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p221, ref58

[340] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p221

[341] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p227

[342] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p230

[343] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p233

[344] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p234

[345] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p234

[346] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p240

[347] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p242, ref5

[348] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p259

[349] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p260

[350] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p261

[351] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p261, ref12

[352] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p262 ref 15

[353] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p265, ref23

[354] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p266

[355] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p267, 26

[356] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p268

[357] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p268, ref32

[358] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p270

[359] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p270

[360] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p271

[361] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p274

[362] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p275

[363] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p277

[364] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p280, ref 28

[365] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p284

[366] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p329

[367] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p330, ref36

[368] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p341

[369] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p345

[370] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p345

[371] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p350

[372] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p350

[373] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p351

[374] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p355

[375] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p356

[376] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p366

[377] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p370

[378] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p374

[379] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p375

[380] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p429

[381] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p430

[382] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p434

[383] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p443

[384] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p434

[385] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p443

[386] Theatres of Memory, Raphael Samuel, p444

[387] Ullrich Rockell, Adaptive Modernism and Beyond: Towards a Poetics of a New Scotland, 14

[388] Ullrich Rockell, Adaptive Modernism and Beyond: Towards a Poetics of a New Scotland, 14

[389] Ullrich Rockell, Adaptive Modernism and Beyond: Towards a Poetics of a New Scotland, 15

[390] Ullrich Rockell, Adaptive Modernism and Beyond: Towards a Poetics of a New Scotland, 19

[391] Ullrich Rockell, Adaptive Modernism and Beyond: Towards a Poetics of a New Scotland, 19

[392] Ullrich Rockell, Adaptive Modernism and Beyond: Towards a Poetics of a New Scotland, 20

[393] Hamish Henderson

[394] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 325 ref 2

[395] Exhaustion et Exuberance, Ways to Defy the Pressure to Perform, Jan Verwoerd, Sheffield 08:Yes No and Other Options Exhibition p109

[396] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 326 ref 7 P. Nora, Les lieux de mémoire (3 vols, Paris, Arthaud, 1984-92)

[397] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 326 ref 8 M. Foucault, 'Neitzche, genealogy, history', in D. F. Bouchard, ed., Language , counter-memory, practice : selected essays and interviews (Ithaca, NY, Knopf, 1977), p. 151.

[398] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 327 ref 10 Samuel, Theatres of memory , p. x.

[399] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 327 ref 14- D. Harvey, 'Monument and myth', Annals of the Association of American Geographers 69

(1979), pp. 362-81; The condition of postmodernity (Oxford, Blackwell, 1989), p. 85;

Consciousness and the urban experience (Oxford, Blackwell, 1985

[400] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 328

[401] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 332 ref 51

[402] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 332 ref 52

[403] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 339 ref 44

[404] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 339 ref 45

[405] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 325 ref 2

[406] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 326

[407]Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 326 ref 18 N.Johnson, 'Sculpting heroic histories: celebrating the centenary of the 1798 rebellion in Ireland', Transactions of the Institute of Brìtish Geographers 19 (1994), pp. 78-93; 'Cast in stone', and Brian Graham, 'No place of mind: contested Protestant representation

[408] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 328 ref 20 M. Chapman, The Gaelic vision in Scottish culture (London, Croom Helm, 1978); P.Womack, Improvement and romance: constructuring the myth of the Highlands (London, Macmillan, 1989); Withers, Gaelic Scotland ; R. Clyde, The image of the Highlander 1745-1822 (Edinburgh, Tuckwell Press, 1995)

[409] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 332

[410] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 333

[411] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 337

[412] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 338

[413] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 340

[414] Place, Memory, Monument … Charles W J Withers 339

[415] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 35

[416] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 36

[417] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 36

[418] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 39

[419] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 39

[420] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 37

[421] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 37

[422] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 44

[423] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 45

[424] R L Stevenson, The Master of Ballantrae (1889, p 194)

[425] Buchan, The Power-House, 64

[426] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 39

[427] Printed in George Moneypenny and H T Buckle, Disraeli, ii London 1905, 1548 ff

[428] Thomas Carlyle, Sartor Restartus, pub in Fraser’s Magazine 1833-4 from Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity p51

[429] See Straub ‘ Psychological Disturbance’ from Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 55

[430] Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 56

[431] Ruins, Martin Herbet ‘Sifting Defunct Modernity in Search of Something Useful’ Tate 2009

[432] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007, “The Artist as Historian", Mark Godfrey, here5

[433] On the Museum's Ruins, Douglas Crimp, 56

[434] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 233

[435] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 222

[436] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 246

[437] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 247

[438] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 205

[439]Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 247

[440] A C Danto, The Artworld, The Journal of Philosophy, p580

[441] R Barthes, Camera Lucida p78

[442] Ruins, Martin Herbet ‘Sifting Defunct Modernity in Search of Something Useful’ Tate 2009

[443] Ruins, Andrea Huyssen, Authentic Ruins, 2006

[444] On Photography, Susan Sontag

[445] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007, “The Artist as Historian", Mark Godfrey, 4

[446] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007,“The Artist as Historian’, Mark Godfrey, 13

[447] Pietro Maria Bardi, “Musées hors limites,” Habitat, no. 4 (1951): 5

[448] Lina Bo Bardi, “Explicação sobre os museus,” in Estado de São Paulo, April 5, 1970

[449] Caron, Joachim Koester: Of Spirit and Empty Spaces p272

[450] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007,“The Artist as Historian’, Mark Godfrey, 16

[451] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007,“The Artist as Historian’, Mark Godfrey, 23, as Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak,'Subaltern Studies: Deconstructing Historiography' in In Other Worlds:

Essays in Cultural Politics (New York and London: Methuen, 1987), p.201.

[452]Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, p20

[453] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, p20

[454] Introduction: Asking the Question: Why ‘What is Research in the Visual Arts? Obsession, Archive, Encounter”?, Marquand Smith, xvi

[455] John Akomfrah – Why History Matters | TateShorts

[456] John Akomfrah – Why History Matters | TateShorts

[457] John Akomfrah – Why History Matters | TateShots

[458] Mark Lewis, Is Modernity Our Antiquity? 2006

[459] Mark Lewis, Is Modernity Our Antiquity? 2006

[460] Brian Dillon, Objects In This Mirror, 310

[461] Brian Dillon, Objects In This Mirror, 311

[462] Brian Dillon, Objects In This Mirror, 316

[463] Douglas Crimp, Pictures, 76, Michael Fried, "Art and Objecthood," Artforum, V, 10 (Summer 1967),

[464] Douglas Crimp, Pictures, Walter Benjamin, ‘The invention of photography. For whom? Against whom? Jean-Luc Godard and Jean-Pierre Gorin’

[465] Roland Barthes, "The Third Meaning: Research Notes on Some Eisenstein Stills," in Image-Music-Text, trans. Heath, New York, Hill and Wang, 1977, p. 67

[466] Red Hook Journal, Cheeky Business, Wendy Vogel

[467] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 233

[468] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 232

[469] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 205

[470] Objects in This Mirror, Brian Dillon, 201

[471] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p.150

[472] M Smith, Introduction in What is Research in the Visual Arts? Obsession, Archive, Encounter

[473] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan p233

[474] P O’Neil and M Wilson ‘An Opening to Curatorial Enquiry, Introduction to Curating and Research’ Curating Research p17.18

[475] Vidokle, Art Without Artists? p

[476] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p167

[477] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan p168, Featherstone, ‘Archive’ p594

[478] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan, p239

[479] A Vidokle, Art without Artists? E-flux journal 16

[480] What is Critical Curating? Marie Fraser, Alice Ming, Wai Jim

[481] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, p9

[482] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, p10

[483] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, p11

[484] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, p12

[485] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, p14, Foucault, About the Beginning of the Hermeneutics

[486] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, p23

[487] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, p24

[488]Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 29, Zoe Butt

[489] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 30, Zoe Butt

[490] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 32, Zoe Butt

[491] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 33, Zoe Butt

[492] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 34, Zoe Butt

[493] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 37, Zoe Butt

[494] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 38, Zoe Butt

[495] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 40, Adrienne Edwards

[496] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 45, Adrienne Edwards

[497] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 56, Ruth Estevez

[498] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 57, Ruth Estevez

[499] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 57, Ruth Estevez

[500] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 59, iLiana Fokianaki

[501] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 63, iLiana Fokianaki

[502] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 75, Hendrik Folkerts

[503] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 78, Hendrik Folkerts

[504]Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 82, Hendrik Folkerts

[505] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 85, Katie Fowle

[506] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 86, Katie Fowle

[507]Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 87, Katie Fowle

[508] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 89, Katie Fowle

[509] Why I Do What I Do: Global Curators Speak, Thoughts on Curating, volume 4, Edited by Steven Henry Madoff, 97, Martin Guinard

[510] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan p229

[511] What is Critical Curating? Marie Fraser, Alice Ming, Wai Jim

[512] What is Critical Curating? Marie Fraser, Alice Ming, Wai Jim

[513] Exploring slow curation in times of crisis that necessitate quick response, Rahul Kumar, Samta NadeemPublished on : Oct 31, 2022 Stirworld.com

[514] Megan Johnson from interview Exploring slow curation in times of crisis that necessitate quick response, Rahul Kumar, Samta NadeemPublished on : Oct 31, 2022 Stirworld.com

[515]Curator Binna Choi from interview Exploring slow curation in times of crisis that necessitate quick response, Rahul Kumar, Samta NadeemPublished on : Oct 31, 2022 Stirworld.com

[516] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, p20

[517] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, p30

[518] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, p30

[519] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, p30

[520] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith

[521] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith

[522] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith

[523] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, p 63

[524] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith, 85

[525] Curating the Complex & the open strike, Terry Smith

[526] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, p6

[527] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger p11, ref Jonas Ekeberg, “Institutional Experiments

between Aesthetics and Activism,” in Stine Hebert, Karlsen, Anne Szefer eds., Self-Organized, Open Editions, London, 2013, p. 53. J

[528] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, p11, ref 20 Andrea Fraser, “A Museum is not a business. It is run in a businesslike fashion,” in Nina Möntmann ed., Art and Its Institutions, Black Dog, London, 2006, pp. 86-98.

[529]New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, p12 Ref 30Claire Doherty, “The institution is dead! Long live the institution! Contemporary Art and New Institutionalism,” in Art of Encounter No. 15, 2004, p. 3.

[530] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, ref 36 Lynne Cooke, “A Statement,” in Mika Hannula ed., Stopping the Process, NIFCA, Helsinki, 1998, p. 215.

[531] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, p12

[532] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, p12

[533] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, p13, ref ref 42 Farquharson’s contribution in the present issue

[534] New Institutionalism, Issue 13, Lucie Kold & Gabriel Fluckiger, p17

[535] Not Going It Alone: Collective Curatorial Curating, edited by Paul O’Neill

[536] The Field of Contemporary Art: A Diagram, Andrea Fraser, 7

[537] River, Esther Kinksy

[538] River, Esther Kinksy

[539] River, Esther Kinksy

[540] River, Esther Kinksy

[541] River, Esther Kinksy

[542] River, Esther Kinksy

[543] River, Esther Kinksy

[544] River, Esther Kinksy

[545] River, Esther Kinksy

[546] Prairie, Dresses, Art, Other, Danielle Dutton -A Double Room

[547] Prairie, Dresses, Art, Other, Danielle Dutton - Pool of Tears - a Play in One Act

[548] The Paris Review, the double room

[549] Always Open, Always Closed, Caitlin Merrett-King

[550] Always Open, Always Closed, Caitlin Merrett-King

[551] Always Open, Always Closed, Caitlin Merrett-King

[552] Always Open, Always Closed, Caitlin Merrett-King

[553] Hostess, Fiona McFarlane

[554] Hostess, Fiona McFarlane

[555] Prairie, Dresses, Art, Other, Danielle Dutton - A Picture Held Us Captive

[556] Prairie, Dresses, Art, Other, Danielle Dutton - A Picture Held Us Captive

[557] People Person, Sam Cottingham

[558] People Person, Sam Cottingham

[559] People Person, Sam Cottingham

[560] Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse, Harmondsworth, Penguin, [1929] 1975, 147

[561] Haight, The George Eliot Letters, 293. (Caroline Steedman, Dust, p95)

[562] George Elliot, Middlemarch, p893

[563] Leonora Eyles, The Woman in the Little House, 1922

[564] A Cheever, Jorge Luis Borges and George Bernard Shawn Leonard, 53

[565] A Cheever, Jorge Luis Borges and George Bernard Shawn Leonard, 53

[566] Female Sexual Strategies in the Poetry of Millay, 181

[567] Female Sexual Strategies in the Poetry of Millay, 181

[568] Female Sexual Strategies in the Poetry of Millay, 182

[569] "I shall go back again," Millay, lines 9-12)

[570] Female Sexual Strategies in the Poetry of Millay, 199

[571] Female Sexual Strategies in the Poetry of Millay, 201

[572] The Idea of North, Peter Davidson, 70, p53

[573] "The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 23

[574] The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 23

[575] Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities. Trans: William Weaver (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972) pp. 13-14

[576] "The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk

[577] Poems (1653), dedication to “To Natural Philosophers, Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle

[578] Thornton Wilder

[579] Bewildered Remembrance: W. B. Yeats's ‘The Dreaming of the Bones’ and 1916, Christopher Morash

[580] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007, “The Artist as Historian" Mark Godfrey, 6

[581] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007, “The Artist as Historian" Mark Godfrey, 5

[582] OCTOBER, No. 120 Spring 2007, “The Artist as Historian" Mark Godfrey, 5

[583] Brian Dillon, Objects In This Mirror, 264

[584] Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, 109.

[585] Joë Bousquet, La neige d’un autre âge, p.20

[586] Brian Dillon, Objects In This Mirror, 295

[587] Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, 78

[588] G.W.F. Hegel, Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art

[589] Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life

[590] John Allwood, The Great Exhibitions 1977 found in Negotiating the Scottish Identity: The Glasgow History Exhibition, Elfie Rembold

[591] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster

[592] An Archival Impulse, Hal Foster 20

[593] W.G. Sebald, from The Emigrants

[594] Alasdair Gray, Lanark, 1982 from Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity

[595] Art + Archive, Sara Callahan 88

[596] Patio and Pavilion - Alison Smithson 47

[597] Patio and Pavilion - Alison Smithson

[598] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[599] Archive, Archive, Archive, Julie Bacon

[600] G M Young, Today and Yesterday (1948) p 112

[601] Hugh MacDiarmid, ‘MacDiarmid, temperamentally akin to ‘volcanic Carlyle’, regarded his own creativity as necessarily disruptive: … ‘ Sacred Lambencies and Thin Crusts: The Metaphors of Identity 56

[602] The Meaning of Working Through the Past (Adorno, 1959)

[603] Caroline Steedman, Dust, p55

[604] Brian Dillon, Objects In This Mirror, 306

[605] The Idea of North, Peter Davidson, 19

[606] "The Intolerable Ugliness of New York": Architecture and Society in Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence, Cynthia G. Falk, 21

[607] Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury

[608] Vladimir Mayakovsky, 1914, Russian Futurist poet and playwright

[609] Walter Benjamin, 1936, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

[610] Hettie Judah, In defence of the outsider artist, Apollo Magazine Feb 25

[611] Seen, Known, Danced and Spoken: Heinrich von Kleist and the Limits of Being Human,

Jessica D. Brier

[612] Seen, Known, Danced and Spoken: Heinrich von Kleist and the Limits of Being Human,

Jessica D. Brier

[613] Seen, Known, Danced and Spoken: Heinrich von Kleist and the Limits of Being Human,

Jessica D. Brier

[614] Seen, Known, Danced and Spoken: Heinrich von Kleist and the Limits of Being Human,

Jessica D. Brier

[615] Vladimir Nabokov's protagonist in Lolita (1955)

[616] https://bigthink.com/thinking/the-philosophy-of-objectification/

[617] On the Museum's Ruins, Douglas Crimp, 50

[618] On the Museum's Ruins, Douglas Crimp, 52

[619] On the Museum's Ruins, Douglas Crimp, 49

[620] On the Museum's Ruins Douglas Crimp

[621] Symposium: The Work of Art, Danto 6/9

[622] Symposium: The Work of Art, Danto, 581

[623] Symposium: The Work of Art, Danto 6/9

[624] Allan Sekula, Reading an Archive, 447

[625] Douglas Crimp, Pictures

[626] Douglas Crimp, Pictures, 76

[627] Edwin Morgan

[628] Malvina Reynolds, Little Boxes, 1962

[629] Pablo Neruda, Tonight I Can Write, 1924

It’s learning to really listen to yourself, think aloud and then having the, not so much the experience, just the courage to name what those germinations are[455]

We live in economies of ‘just in time’, on the use of ‘temporal time’ vs non-dominant concept of ‘social time’[513]

“When you go,

if you go,

And I should want to die,

there's nothing I'd be saved by

more than the time

you fell asleep in my arms

in a trust so gentle

I let the darkening room

drink up the evening, till

rest, or the new rain

lightly roused you awake.

I asked if you heard the rain in your dream

and half dreaming still you only said, I love you.”[627]

It’s learning to really listen to yourself, think aloud and then having the, not so much the experience, just the courage to name what those germinations are^[455]

We live in economies of ‘just in time’, on the use of ‘temporal time’ vs non-dominant concept of ‘social time’^[513]

and half dreaming still you only said, I love you.”^[627]