An Officer of Civilization

by Nurit Buchweitz

  Like Koons, Hirst also lures his viewer to look at his work. The shark in the showcase fulfills a clear cultural function: it is an invitation to gaze. Moreover, the shark is located at the center of the showcase, with a frame of minimalist geometry, luring the viewer to look while also turning him into a voyeur: anyone observing the shark is observing death. This is not a representation of reality, but reality itself. Hirst directly confronts viewers with a difficult subject, and although this is achieved by means of a technologically sophisticated, elegantly stylized and gleaming showcase, the viewer is in fact gazing at a rotting and decomposing carcass, consumed by worms and maggots (indeed in due time the shark had to be replaced due to decomposition). This macabre scene may have been carefully aestheticized to the point of sterilization and may tend to evoke an unemotional, intellectual response, yet one cannot ignore its shocking content: a carcass on display. Just as it both magnetizes and horrifies the viewer, this piece of art evoked a public debate and extreme reactions. The viewer wants to avert his eyes from it, but death stylized as a spectacle draws him in; the viewer glances and, seeking to unveil the mystery of death, then proceeds to examine it up close.

  Another of Hirst’s works, Mother and Child Divided (1993), is guided by the same aesthetic and structural principles as The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living. This piece too is founded upon ← 106 | 107 → the direct language of reality, although here the artist’s ambition stretches beyond the monolithic to the monstrous. The mother and child are not only divided, each in a container of its own, but each is also physically divided into two parts, with a total of four containers holding the bisected halves of a cow and calf, swimming in formaldehyde.22

  According to the catalogue of the Turner Prize, won by Hirst in 1995, the artist “strips the closest of bonds between living creatures to its starkest reality”,23 while Hirst himself has commented that, “It’s amazing what you can do with […] a twisted imagination and a chainsaw”.24 It is in the contrast between these propositions that the hybrid nature of Hirst’s work lies: production for producers, on the one hand, and the production of a sensation for the audience at large on the other. And Hirst has indeed reaped considerable profits from the sale of his works.

  As was noted, a gaze becomes voyeuristic when it observes the obscene; the dissected carcasses of animals are obscene, but become even more so in light of the title of the work, which points to the blood connection between the two animals. This makes the entire observation of the work sinful, a voyeuristic gaze at something that one must not see. Where did the mother and child come from? Did they die? Were they killed?25 The scene also evokes the biblical prohibition against killing a cow and its young on the same day (Leviticus 22:28), as an expression of evil and amorality of the worst kind. For this precise reason, Hirst’s works rivet audiences who, when facing them, sometimes reluctantly and sometimes in enthusiastic cooperation, become voyeurs gazing at the forbidden.

  Very similarly to those of Koons, and although highly controversial, Hirst’s works are clearly subversive; the image of death turns out to be a mask behind which depersonalization and rationalism are stretched to the limit. Hirst disconnects the issue of death from the human subject and from components attributed to him – feelings, psychology, history, environment, faith, all of which emanate from humanity. He has obviously ← 107 | 108 → disconnected death from the conventions of representation; the symbolism of death has been voided of meaning. Death becomes real, whereas the fear of death has been flattened and shifted, becoming an indifferent image which reflects a form of existence in a world that is entirely materialistic, pragmatic, and scientific. The viewer observes a death that is acceptable in the clinical context of forensic laboratories, while in the context of the museum, death is presented as obscene. Yet this takes place in full cooperation with the market. The use of artistic language similar to that of Koons hints that this is the production of a scandal, exactly as in Koons’s sensational works centered on sex. Although these particular pieces by Hirst focus on death, the motivations of the two artists are to some degree similar: they both introduce incendiary material in order to create the maximum effect of exposure, to produce a controversy, to draw attention, and attract media coverage.

  Hirst’s work refers to those artists that focused on the connection between art and commercialization, among them Andy Warhol and Jeff Koons, who exploited this connection to the full. For example, Hirst clearly echoes Koons’s Three Ball Total Equilibrium Tank (1985), a water-filled tank in which three basketballs float, suspended in absolute balance and preserved in an eternal state of still life. Koons’s work presents branded objects inside glass cases, emphasizing their cult status by placing them in a state beyond their use. Another visual reference found in Hirst’s work is to Warhol’s Gem (1979), the subject of which is a luxury item. Warhol is the father of the image game, an expert in self-promotion and the exaltation of celebrity culture. He reminds us that the artist preserves his status in this market by, among other means, marketing and ensuring that he remains at the center of attention.

  Once again, it can be surmised that transforming the viewer into voyeur by showing him provocative materials is merely one, superficial, level of the matter. On a deeper plane, the viewer becomes a voyeur when he realizes that he is looking behind the scenes of the field of artistic creativity, at the forbidden territory of the market, the commerce. The obscenity in works by Hirst and Koons seems to be what the art historian Julian Stalabrass defined as when “art work and self disappear into pure image, pure celebrity.”26 In Koons’s case, this is a mixture of image and personality; while with Hirst, the artist is inaccessible, thus remaining a kind of agent ← 108 | 109 → provocateur who toys with the market’s dreams. The viewer becomes partner to a spectacle, a hyper-realistic visual monument; images of “reality” in Hirst’s works are as though on a screen or viewed through a showcase, and this connects to the market, to the world of commerce. Indeed, Hirst’s shark exists in the dimension of the spectacle. Hirst has cast himself in the role of artist of the spectacle, an image that a priori turns the viewer into a voyeur regarding a face to face spectacle, with the flashes of the market that drives the consumption of art.

  Voyeurism and Degradation

  The theme of voyeurism in The Map and the Territory is brought to the fore not only through the specific reference to Hirst and Koons but also using other narrative techniques. The plot combines fictitious and real characters,27 reaching unprecedented impetus with the appearance of Houellebecq’s avatar – an author by the name of Michel Houellebecq. Houellebecq emphasizes that this character is a copy of the biographic Houellebecq, whom he describes as “the author of The Elementary Particles and Platform” in reference to his own career. He also refers to the fact that ‘Michel Houellebecq’ resides in Ireland and other publicly available biographical information about himself. He alludes to parts of Houellebecq’s own media presence, when he calls the murder of the character ‘the Houellebecq affair’.28

  Houellebecq portrays his own avatar as a drunk, bad-smelling, reclusive misanthrope. In this way the reader becomes a voyeur: the portrayal is not far from Houellebecq’s own media image, seemingly providing the reader with a peephole through which he may look upon one of the few world-famous French authors. Houellebecq the author is condemned as a pornographer, fascist, racist, provocateur, drunkard, and nihilist, as ← 109 | 110 → obsessively preoccupied with his own self-promotion and as someone who has consequently attracted considerable media attention. We peek into his home, library, and lifestyle and discover his secrets. Introducing the author into the novel is a postmodernist device,29 although in this context it is consistent with the current voyeuristic culture of celebrities. The Map and the Territory offers an equally voyeuristic view of celebrity when ‘Houellebecq’ is exposed in an almost clinical fashion by Jed’s direct, almost insistent stare, thus firmly establishing the theme of voyeurism in the narrative. Houellebecq outdoes hims
elf where self-exploitation is concerned: the reader is left with the sensation that the author kills off the character which represents himself in his own book. The link between art, voyeurism, and the market reaches its peak in the scene that involves the dead body of ‘Houellebecq’, the book character, in a manner not devoid of macabre humor and self-mockery, irony and comic effects, and that even touches on parody.

  Houellebecq the author lures the reader to view the murder scene, highlighting the reader’s voyeuristic urge, when the shocked responses of the police and forensic specialists to the crime scene are presented to him in succession, one after another:

  Sitting on the grass a few steps from the cordon, his head in his hands, Lieutenant Ferber was prostrate and utterly still. It was the first time Jasselin had seen a colleague in such a state. […] A few meters farther away, three men from the Montargis gendarmerie were in a state of shock: two of them were kneeling in the grass, staring vacantly, and the third […] was swaying slightly, on the brink of passing out. (Map, p. 171).

  [«Assis dans l’herbe à quelques pas de la barrière, la tête entre ses mains, le lieutenant Ferber était prostré dans une immobilité absolue. C’était la première fois qu’il voyait un collègue dans cet état. […] Quelques mètres plus loin, les trois hommes de la gendarmerie de Montargis étaient tétanisés: deux d’entre eux gisaient dans l’herbe, agenouillés, le regard vide, et le troisième […] oscillait lentement sur lui-même, à la limite de l’évanouissement.» (Carte, p. 273)]

  He [Ferber] turned around and saw behind him the investigators from the criminal records office who began to nod and sway to and fro, exactly like the gendarmes of Montargis. (Map, p. 181) ← 110 | 111 →

  [Il (Ferber) se retourna et vit derrière lui les deux techniciens de l’Identité judiciaire qui commençaient à dodeliner et à osciller sur eux-mêmes, exactement comme les gendarmes de Montargis. (Carte, p. 287)]

  Only then is the reader ushered into the room and his curiosity satisfied by ‘seeing’ the full state of the body, even though, “strictly speaking, there wasn’t a body” (Map, p. 181) [«mais là, de corps, à proprement parler, il n’y en avait pas.» (Carte, p. 287)].

  In Houellebecq’s unique style, this emphasizes the perverted pleasures of art: the murderer cut up Houellebecq’s body in the style of a Jackson Pollock painting, as Jed notes when he looks at pictures of the crime scene:

  Jed examined several of the enlargements, which for Jasselin looked virtually all alike: drips, lacerations, a formless puzzle. ‘It’s funny,’ he finally said. ‘It looks like a Pollock, but a Pollock who would have worked almost in monochrome. […] And what are these photos?’ asked Jed. ‘I mean, what do they represent in reality?’ Jed’s reaction surprised Jasselin by its intensity. He scarcely had the time to bring up a chair before Jeb collapsed into it, trembling and shaky with spasms. (Map, pp. 222–223)30

  [«Jed examina plusieurs des agrandissements qui pour Jasselin se ressemblaient à peu près tous: des coulures, des lacérations, un puzzle informe. ’C’est curieux…’ dit-il finalement. ‘On dirait un Pollock; mais un Pollock qui aurait travaillé presqu’en monochrome. […] Et c’est quoi, ces photos?’ demanda Jed. ‘Je veux dire: qu’est-ce que ça représente en réalité.’ La réaction de Jed surprit Jasselin par son intensité. Il eut à peine le temps de lui approcher un fauteuil dans lequel il s’abattit, tremblant, secoué de spasmes.» (Carte, p. 350)]

  This scene dramatizes the process of transforming the viewer into voyeur, as was discussed in relation to Hirst – the realization of the meaning of what he is seeing strikes the protagonist, making him physically ill. The reader’s gaze becomes voyeuristic due to the build-up of tension as well as to what he sees.

  On this level, The Map and the Territory is a self-reflexive book, self-consciously addressing Houellebecq’s own involvement with the ← 111 | 112 → media. It is at one and the same time a sensationalist self-exploitation and a self-reflexive experiment in which Houellebecq is overly conscious of his own issues with self-presentation and representation. For the reader it raises questions regarding representation sensationalism, in addition to the guilty voyeuristic pleasures of our own readership.

  Cooperating with the mechanisms of the market is in fact an indication of over-identification with the field; in this way Koons, Hirst, and Houellebecq hint at the hidden motivation behind art production, the hidden reverse. This is true hybridity: these artists all cooperate with an order while at the same time seeking to rouse vigilance against it and questioning the basic assumptions underlying its very fabric. According to Slavoj Žižek, one of the strategies for exposing the obscene hidden reverse of a legitimate system is over-identification with it and playing by its own rules;31 over-identification clearly highlights the darker rules that lie in the shadows of the system’s public regulations. In this case, the commercial market is hiding behind pure art. These three artists are willing to include forbidden scenes in their works, those seeking to turn the viewer into a voyeur, departing from the boundaries of the limited field of art into mass consumption which will lead to rising profits.

  In accordance with the general principle of recurring themes, motifs, and positions in each of the novels in Houellebecq’s oeuvre, the theme of art appears at length and with profound meaning in the novel preceding The Map and the Territory: The Possibility of an Island. Similarly, it plays a minor role in Platform, in which the protagonist Michel works at the Ministry of Culture, organizing exhibitions. An entire chapter in The Possibility of an Island is dedicated to a comprehensive theoretical discussion between Daniel1, a stand-up comedian and filmmaker, and Vincent Greilsamer, a conceptual artist of the present-day field of art. This is immediately followed by a hands-on visit to Vincent’s exhibition, namely a grand installation in his own basement, which has been converted into an exhibition space. In an ekphrasis, the installation is described in detail by the narrator. Allowing passively overt ideological presentation32 via the ← 112 | 113 → speech of characters is one of the stylistic markers of Houellebecq’s poetics. In this case it reveals Houellebecq’s clear interest in today’s rules of art and the direct line he draws between the field of art and other realms of cultural production. The theoretical discussion within the novel begins with Marcel Duchamp, as does any introduction to conceptual art and the commercialization of the artistic marketplace, then moves on to Yves Klein and Josef Beuys, in addition mentioning the Saachi gallery and the revue ArtPress. In his exposition, Vincent divides today’s art into three parallel streams. He does not discern artistic value as stemming from market value, in terms of prices and sales:

  Roughly speaking, you have three big trends. The first, and most important one, the one that gets eighty percent of the subsidies, whose pieces go for the most money, is gore in general: amputations, cannibalism, enucleation, etc. All the collaboration work done with serial killers, for example. The second is the one that uses humor: there’s irony directed at the art market, à la Ben; or at finer things, à la Broodthaers, where it’s all about provoking uneasiness and shame in the spectator, the artist, or in both, by presenting a pitiful mediocre spectacle that leaves you constantly doubting whether it has the slightest artistic value; then there’s all the work on kitsch, which draws you in, which you come close to, and can empathize with, on the condition that you signal by means of a meta-narration that you’re not fooled by it. Finally, there is a third trend, this is the virtual: it’s usually young artists, influenced by manga and by heroic fantasies; many of them start like that, then fall back to the first trend once they realize they can’t make their living on the Internet. (Possibility, pp. 102–103)

  [«Schématiquement, tu as trois grandes tendances. La première, la plus importante, celle qui draine 80% des subventions et dont les pièces se vendent le plus cher, c’est le gore en général: amputations, cannibalisme, énucléations, etc. Tout le travail en collaboration avec les serial killers, par exemple. La deuxième, c’est celle qui utilise l’humour:
tu as l’ironie directe sur le marché de l’art, à la Ben; ou bien des choses plus fines, à la Broodthaers, où il s’agit de provoquer le malaise et la honte chez le spectateur, l’artiste ou les deux en présentant un spectacle piteux, médiocre, dont on puisse constamment douter qu’il ait la moindre valeur artistique; tu as aussi tout un travail sur le kitsch, dont on se rapproche, qu’on frôle, qu’on peut parfois brièvement atteindre à condition de signaler par une métanarration qu’on n’en est pas dupe. Enfin tu as une troisième tendance, c’est le virtuel: c’est souvent des jeunes, très influencés par les mangas et l’heroic fantasy; beaucoup commencent comme ça, puis se replient sur la première tendance une fois qu’ils se sont rendu compte qu’on ne peut pas gagner sa vie sur Internet.» (Possibilité, pp. 144–145)] ← 113 | 114 →

  The stand-up comedian protagonist, already established as the author’s alter-ego, quickly draws his conclusions by noting the entanglement of all domains of artistic production: he himself is an artist, as too is the writer of novels. He states that he unknowingly created engaged art (“I had done intervention art without knowing it” (Possibility, p. 105; emphasis in the original [“J’avais fait de l’art d’intervention sans le savoir” [Possibilité, p. 152]]). Yet the most important part of the discussion is the understanding that in both, or all fields, artistic production goes hand in hand with marketing and promotion – Daniel1’s preparation of T-shirts as merchandise to promote his film33 is no different to Koons hanging a billboard advertising his exhibition. Moreover, Daniel1 insists that he “combine the commercial advantages of pornography and ultra-violence” (Possibility, p. 111) [«combiner astucieusement les avantages commerciaux de la pornographie et ceux de l’ultraviolence» (Possibilité, p. 158)]. In all of them, “it was generally cool to approve of the representation of violence in the arts” (Possibility, p. 148) [«il était cool d’approuver la représentation de la violence dans les arts» (Possibilité, p. 214)].