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Miguel Ángel Campano: 'El Naufragio' [The Shipwreck, 1984] (detail) 

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  4. THE METABOLISED COLLECTION, by Carles Guerra

THE METABOLISED COLLECTION, by Carles Guerra

Digitalisation, that all-pervasive process, offers us innumerable different ways of exploring the items held by institutions of all kinds. The downside is that it imposes a system that modifies our forms of attention. What we see becomes less important than how we see it. And that is precisely the theme of this itinerary.

This itinerary has been designed during a period when most museums have been forced to close their doors. Without visitors, and with no direct contact with the collections, the art system has had to adapt. Digitalisation, that all-pervasive process, offers us innumerable different ways of exploring the items held by institutions of all kinds. The downside is that it imposes a system that modifies our forms of attention. What we see becomes less important than how we see it. And that is precisely the theme of this itinerary. As Walter Benjamin noted in his celebrated essay, with photographic reproduction, the artworks come to us rather than the other way around. It is very likely, then, that we are seated at home on the sofa – or in a more topical version, glued to a screen.

Over time, the diverse materials amassed in the Banco de España Collection have been affected by a variety of crises that have altered the relationship between the viewers and the works. This is not the first time it has happened. For example, the portraits of dignitaries, once associated with an internal administrative procedure, now form part of the history of art. The items that were meant to decorate the Banco de España building now belong to a collection that follows a specific narrative. And the same is true of a large number of contemporary works for which no uniform definition is possible. In the foreseeable future, then, we may only be able to discern a stream of reproductions stored on the website, where once we only saw irreconcilable differences; and any specific features will have been erased. And that is what will happen when everything is just a mouse click away.

The works are so accurately reproduced that we may have the impression that their appearance has not been altered in any way. Such changes do not always leave visible, detectable, marks. A good example can be found in  Stefan Zweig’s The Invisible Collection, published in 1929, a short book which narrates the impoverished existence of a collector. The story explores the effects of the financial crash following the Great War. Despite the brevity of the tale, it clearly illustrates the stark cruelty of the convergence of economy and art. In Zweig’s account, the crisis leads to the impoverishment of a well-heeled class, once at the heart of haute-bourgeoise collections. The disappearance of that world is embodied in the tragic figure of an old blind man reminiscing about his collection of etchings. The sad reality, though, is that he no longer owns the prints. ‘They must now be dispersed to all four corners of the earth,’ we are told. All that remains are blank pieces of paper or poor reproductions in a folder. When he touched them, ‘they were so incredibly real,’ says Zweig ‘that he could describe and praise every one of them unerringly, in precise detail, just as he remembered the order of them’.

The subtitle of the story, ‘An Episode of the German Inflation’, could be our springboard for considering the nature of a collection in the midst of a pandemic. To hazard a hasty definition, one might say that it is little more than a succession of digital files — at most, poor images affording virtual access to the saved works and documents. It is an economy of access that realises the dream of making everything (or almost everything) visible. And it is a system that, although impracticable, museums across the world have already included as part of their mission. This goal is reflected in the notion that any citizen is entitled to consult any document held by the pertinent institutions – a notion that has become so widely accepted that the cultural policies of the leading institutions now define access to art as a universal human right.

And what are the consequences? The fast-tracked digitalisation caused by the pandemic has swallowed up the canon of art history. This new economy of access throws open the door to a vast heritage. It also includes a space for socialisation that was previously unthinkable. The art works and the comments they provoke circulate along the same pathways. Work and commentary become blurred. And yet, we rarely breath the air of the actual places where those objects are housed. Our bodies remain glued to our screens as the works continue to be held on the other side, in the dim light of the storerooms in which they are kept in optimal conditions for conservation.

Ironically, the dream of being able to see everything is close to becoming a reality precisely at a time of greatest separation. To be honest, many of those works that we enjoy without standing in front of them – at a distance between the artwork and the images that they represent – awaken memories rooted in our body. The memory of standing in front of actual art works, whether or not they resemble those now paraded across our screens, continues to pervade our experience when we discover the digital version. What we saw and felt in the past re-emerges as a personal and intimate archive. As a result, looking at the screen becomes charged with a long experience cultivated in the world of real-world encounters. Our reactions to this flow of works online consists of a series of corporeal responses, held in the hard drive of our body. We are the museum, the ultimate wünderkammer, the metabolised collection.

By Carles Guerra – Artist, art critic and lecturer in contemporary art at Pompeu Fabra University.

MORE INFORMATION

  • The Metabolised Collection. Notes for understanding an online collection. By Carles Guerra
This Painting Should Be Installed by an Accountant. Jonathan Monk
Tribute to the Bank of Spain by its Employees. Lorenzo Coullaut Valera
Copyright (White/Blue). Rogelio López Cuenca
Blind Image #125 (Blue image). João Louro
Threshold. Guillermo Lledó
Abstract Composition No. 4 (Limbo). José Maldonado
Untitled. Pieter Vermeersch
Wall of the Urola Studio. Isabel Quintanilla
Hostage LXVI. Art & Language
6407-19 (Silver series). Wolfgang Tillmans
One-Hundred Peseta Note. Mariano Fortuny y Madrazo
The Artist and His Inspiration. José Villegas y Cordero
Capital. Merchandise. Guilloché. Daniel García Andújar
Belmont VI. Soledad Sevilla
Poem of Prime Numbers. Esther Ferrer
Modular Chant. Canons 22. Elena Asins
Monuments to Fiddling. Those Fucking Euros. Ana Prada
Euro Zone. Ignasi Aballí
Contract. Sara Ramo
Finsternis gekreuzter Schatten. Lothar Baumgarten
White Passage. Hannah Collins
Fonació d'un paper. Perejaume
Diptych IV. Cristina Iglesias
Interchangeably. Salomé Cuesta
Monumento a Echegaray. Lorenzo Coullaut Valera

This Painting Should Be Installed by an Accountant

Jonathan Monk

Here, the clerk or employee are anonymous cogs in the wheels of work. The painting is a valuable item that will momentarily pass through the hands of someone whose only instructions are those displayed on the work itself.

Homenaje al Banco de España por los empleados [Tribute to the Banco de España by its Employees]

Lorenzo Coullaut Valera

A hundred and one years before the employee in Jonathan Monk’s painting, the workers of the Banco de España joined forces to commission this sculpture. Placed side-by-side, the two works might be seen as a monument to wage labour.

Copyright (White/Blue)

Rogelio López Cuenca

This painting is similar in size to Monk’s work and employs the same educational rationale. In this case, it is we, the viewers, who become employees who need to be trained to chart a course between our memory of what a painting once was and the impositions of new market laws.

Blind Image #125 (Blue image)

João Louro

Here there is no longer any trace of the employee or the viewer. The work employs itself, on a zero-hours contract. It requires no-one else’s involvement. Its capacity to provide its own content and meaning makes us redundant.

Umbral [Threshold]

Guillermo Lledó

The viewer’s reflection in that black glass must come as near as possible to the vertigo of jumping into the void. That door, made from so little, provides the most authentic image of ourselves, what Michael Fried in 1967 termed ‘an excess of presence’.

Composición abstracta n.º 4 (Limbo) [Abstract Composition nº 4 (Limbo)]

José Maldonado

Whereas Guillermo Lledó’s work places us in front of a solid door, this painting blocks our way with a window. We can see nothing through it, not even our reflection. We can only turn inward to feel our way and confirm our own carnality.

Sin título [Untitled]

Pieter Vermeersch

Threshold, limbo and finally fading. All these forms of transition that might so easily be dismissed as “monochrome” share something in common. Just before the transition is complete, they break the illusion, revealing themselves as objects or works of art.

Tapia del estudio de Urola [Wall of the Urola Studio]

Isabel Quintanilla

These transitional figures do not necessarily require a smooth, uninterrupted, continuous surface. The peeling wall contains them and reveals them as a real object that is waiting outside, close to the artist’s studio.

Hostage LXVI

Art & Language

Michael Baldwin and Mel Ramsden have always said that those trees looming up behind the blotch of paint are lining a road near their studio. The blotches were formed by squashing the letters SURF in fresh paint with the piece of glass. And the letters are not letters but the floor plans of museums.

6407-19 (Silver series)

Wolfgang Tillmans

This might almost be a monochrome were it not for the barely visible marks showing that the photograph has been developed analogically. There is no such thing as an ideal, flawless monochrome surface. In such cases, the phenomenological experience (standing in front of the work) is essential.

Billete de cien pesetas [One Hundred Peseta Note]

Mariano Fortuny y Madrazo

Paper money is emblematic of the nineteenth-century movement of capital. In size and shape, this small painting resembles a banknote. In many ways, the movement of money and paintings is comparable.

El artista y su inspiración [The Artist and His Inspiration]

José Villegas y Cordero

These drawings are similar in size to Fortuny y Madrazo’s ‘One-Hundred Peseta Note’, although in this case, the design is for a 50-pesetas note. The new note contains an allegory of the relationship between the arts and the new financial system, a link that is rarely depicted in art.

El capital. La mercancía. Guilloché [Capital. Merchandise. Guilloche]

Daniel García Andújar

This is what one might term an 'NFT avant-la-lettre'. Like a Non-Fungible Token, it is a visual composition generated using digital techniques that defy forgery. The aim is to attract capital from financial speculation, with an allusion to one of its industries of choice, the arms trade.

Belmont VI

Soledad Sevilla

Despite the similarities in form, Soledad Sevilla’s geometric weft has little in common with the engraving techniques employed by Daniel García Andújar. They portray two very different forms of power. One draws on reliability, the other emits chromatic vibrations.

Poema números primos [Poem of Prime Numbers]

Esther Ferrer

We often wonder what lies inside the weft, in the depths of the fabric, fearing that the mesh is no more than the support for a vacuum. Ferrer’s sequences of prime numbers fill the void displayed by any weft.

Canto modular. Canons 22 [Modular chant. Canons 22]

Elena Asins

The impression created by these papers is akin to that of a series of photographs reflecting the development of an idea. An Eadweard Muybridge! Judging from this sequence, there is still plenty of life in the idea.

Monuments to Fiddling. Those Fucking Euros

Ana Prada

Finally, money is on show. Only in this way can its ambiguous identity as legal tender and art work be dispelled. In its last stage of life, it returns to the Banco de España Collection in the guise of a virtual monument.

Zona Euro [Euro Zone]

Ignasi Aballí

Ignasi Aballí’s lists reflect the categories that appear time and again in the daily press. The figures in euros transcribed in different fonts build a landscape of different amounts. Europe has become a territory defined by the movement of currency, a corporate wall decoration.

Contrato [Contract]

Sara Ramo

This strange item, somewhat akin to a mask, is made out of newspaper (particularly strips taken from the Financial Times). The DIY technique can be seen as the act of exorcism required to prevent the language of finance from continuing to employ its capacity to monitor desires.

Finsternis gekreuzter Schatten [Darkness in the Crossed Shadows]

Lothar Baumgarten

The optical illusion brings a new force capable of modifying places, such as the threshold in the photograph, traversed by geometric forms. The contact between the artist, Lothar Baumgarten, and the Yanomami nation of the Amazon rainforest supports the myth of a view that has managed to remain outside the rules of ethnocentrism.

White Passage

Hannah Collins

Photography should be a means of depicting a verifiable, empirical reality, but here – as in Lothar Baumgarten’s work – it is transformed into somewhere incoherent. For a viewer standing in front of this work, the large format creates the effect of a picture into which they can walk.

Fonació d'un paper [Phonation of Paper]

Perejaume

The impact of a flow of air on an unrolled length of paper might appear more appropriate for a laboratory experiment. The purpose here is not to extract the sound of inert objects, but rather to grant those voiceless items a communicative agency, before placing them in the ‘parliament of things’, as Bruno Latour would have it.

Díptico IV [Diptych IV]

Cristina Iglesias

A cardboard model, photographed and printed on copper plates, which emphasises this type of space that can be penetrated by the viewer. A 2-D version of a sculptural construction inspired by a model in miniature, a sculpture from which the characteristic dimensions of the medium have been stripped.

Indistintamente [Interchangeably]

Salomé Cuesta

This sculpture is literally traversed by light. The materials used give it a lightness that is atypical of sculpture, and yet the shape is reminiscent of a coffin or a box to hold a body.

Monumento a Echegaray [Monument to Echegaray]

Lorenzo Coullaut Valera

This typically nineteenth century monument stands on a plinth at the Banco de España headquarters. Although it bears inscriptions with the name of the person to whom it is dedicated, this is not its most enduring function. Unlike the other works in this itinerary, this constitutes a place from which one can look around.

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