www.theunmanned.com/
Retroaktivna, neljudska povijest tehnike, opažanja i filma.
25 January–27 April 2014 Casino Luxembourg – Forum d’art contemporain
For this first institutional monograph by Fabien Giraud and Raphaël Siboni, the French artists’ most recent works will unfold throughout all the spaces of the Casino Luxembourg – Forum d’art contemporain. Coming from the disciplines of documentary and film, Fabien Giraud and Raphaël Siboni focus their research on the notion of the measurement and perception of the world. Their questioning of the evolution of techniques, time and relationships of scale leads them beyond the human scale, towards an image outside of the world.
“The first film shot did not occur with workers leaving a Lyon factory on 28 March 1895, but six months later, when at the end of another work day, the female workers walk once again in front of their employers’ camera, squeezing into the frame and speeding up their steps to adapt to the reel’s running time. It’s the invention of a new physics, operating by the pressure of time spans on the body, by the condensation of space within the frames. Cinema is thus not simply the invention of a rhythmic drive mechanism for film to render the world’s movement, but the act of producing new bodies and new rhythms. The cinema has nothing to do with representation. It is a point of morphological inflection. It was really invented in the fold of an autumn’s late afternoon, with the meeting of a gear’s teeth, a silver salt’s reaction time, and the body of a worker.”
–Fabien Giraud and Raphaël Siboni
Fabien Giraud and Raphaël Siboni’s recent work is part of the historical parenthesis that separates these two factory exits. Starting with this latent period, they imagine the possibility of a cinema that would not subject bodies to the frame, nor bend gestures to time length, and in which the human figure would not be the only standard of measurement. Each of their films shares the same dynamic: to bring up to the surface of our present, temporalities that are radically foreign to it. Whether by reducing film to a pure quantity of light on the earth’s surface (La Vallée von Uexküll), synchronizing our experience of a museum to the immensity of geological time scale (La Mesure Minérale), confronting a camera with the destructive vision of a particle accelerator (La Mesure Louvre) or “doubling” the ruins of an ancient temple (Bassae Bassae), all of the films presented at Casino Luxembourg place us in a decentred position in front of the image and thus open to us the experience of a present that will not be simply for us but will be penetrated by the very possibility of our absence.
The new film series titled The Unmanned, which gives its name to the exhibition, is constructed as an attempt to navigate within all of these excesses. Conceived as a non-human and backwards history of technics, it opens in 2045 with the death of Ray Kurzweil at the threshold point of technological singularity—and moving upstream, makes each stone, each inflection, the possible juncture of a completely different becoming.
The exhibition has been produced by Casino Luxembourg.
In collaboration with: Vox – Centre de l’image contemporaine (Montreal), Biennale internationale d’art numérique (Montreal), Centre international d’art et du paysage de l’île de Vassivière.
The project Bassae Bassae was selected and supported by the patronage committee of Fondation Nationale des Arts Graphiques et Plastiques, Paris.
- /www.e-flux.com/announcements/fabien-giraud-and-raphael-siboni/
The first film shot did not occur with workers leaving a Lyon factory on 28 March 1895, but six months later, when at the end of another work day, the female workers walk once again in front of their employers’ camera, squeezing into the frame and speeding up their steps to adapt to the reel’s running time. It’s the invention of a new physics, operating by the pressure of time spans on the body, by the condensation of space within the frames. Cinema is thus not simply the invention of a rhythmic drive mechanism for film to render the world’s movement, but the act of producing new bodies and new rhythms. Cinema has nothing to do with representation. It is a point of morphological inflection. It was really invented in the fold of an autumn’s late afternoon, with the meeting of a gear’s teeth, a silver salt’s reaction time, and the body of a worker. (Fabien Giraud / Raphaël Siboni)”
Fabien Giraud and Raphaël Siboni’s recent work is part of the historical parenthesis that separates these two factory exits. Starting with this latent period, they imagine the possibility of a cinema that would not subject bodies to the frame, nor bend gestures to time length, and in which the human figure would not be the only standard of measurement. Each of their films shares the same dynamic: to bring up to the surface of our present, temporalities that are radically foreign to it. Whether by reducing film to a pure quantity of light on the earth’s surface (“La Vallée von Uexküll”), synchronizing our experience of a museum to the immensity of geological time scale (“La Mesure Minérale”), confronting a camera with the destructive vision of a particle accelerator (“La Mesure Louvre”) or “doubling” the ruins of an ancient temple (“Bassae Bassae”), all of these films place us in a decentered position in front of the image and thus open to us the experience of a present that will not be simply for us but will be penetrated by the very possibility of our absence.
The new film series entitled “The Unmanned”, which gives its name to the exhibition, is constructed as an attempt to navigate within all of these excesses. Conceived as a non-human and backwards history of technics, it opens in 2045 with the death of Ray Kurzweil at the threshold point of technological singularity- and moving upstream, makes each stone, each inflection, the possible juncture of a completely different becoming. - www.e-flux.com/announcements/fabien-giraud-and-raphael-siboni/
VINCENT NORMAND:
Fabien Giraud’s and Raphaël Siboni’s work begins with a genealogical consideration. To paraphrase the artists’ question1, we might ask ourselves, along with them: what if cinema, somewhere between the two takes that made up the Lumière brothers’ original shot, had kept its promise of emancipation and radical uprooting of vision, and had been something else entirely? The question springs in a way from a contradiction—for the “emancipated” experience promised by the insularity of the movie theatre is inseparable from the technical conditions that, historically, have inscribed the experience of the moving picture at the heart of the modern process of rationalization and reform of vision. From that contradiction inherent in their approach, the artists draw their vocabulary: they aim to use cinema as a viewing machine that looks back upon itself, or rather upon its own stories, to reel in the technological events that constitute the implicit scripts of its mode of existence, all while isolating, within that continuous narrative, various branching, tipping, reversal and rupture points, as well as non-linear and discontinuous spaces, and populating them with images.
To properly grasp the contradictory space of Giraud’s and Siboni’s agency, we must reconstitute its topology. The modern reshaping of vision that included the advent of the moving image developed against a backdrop of great divides that Western modernity had imprinted on the world—dichotomies of natural/technical, empirical/transcendental, rational/non-rational, and reality/fiction, with preferred vectors assigned to those fields: objectivity or subjectivity, objects or subjects. Corresponding to those great divides, therefore, was the separation between two economies of the gaze, two structures of representational production in which subjects and objects were placed, incrusted, and whereby the cleaved cosmography of modernity gained structure: the scientific image and the aesthetic image.
Scientific modernity, born with the mechanist revolution and the parallel invention of the microscope and telescope, is a vision of conquest and a logic of division. The images produced by modern Science are nourished by partitions, casting objects from Nature into the denaturalized space of laboratories, natural history museums and observatories. The instruments of vision brought to bear in isolating factual truths are instruments of measurement and calculation: a measure of the distance between things; a calculation of their inclusion in the positive language of modern knowledge . Optical navigation at the material and cosmic scales has thus proceeded by the invention of progressively more granular benchmarks, new frames and new resolution scales. Thus the scientific image does not close the distance between observed object and observing subject; it continually refines its resolution. Within that image, technics becomes the locus for a deepening of the limit that, in the modern world, is systematically inscribed in objects and subjects, and on the sides of which they, in a constant retreat, are being indefinitely redistributed.
Aesthetic modernity, since the “Copernican Revolution” of the spectator posited by Immanuel Kant, has been a vision of export and a logic of transgression. Paul Cézanne dreamt of an eye “at the heart of things” because the question of the medium crystallized, during the evolution of modernist theory, the conditions for “mediality” between spectator and image. Modernism is the history of the methods of crossing the frames and geometrical limits that are at once positioned and subverted by the medium, inviting the spectator’s interiority to break the bounds of the perceptual experience and enter the purified experience of the aesthetical. The aesthetic image is the one that pays the price of that mediality: technics erects before it an artefactual screen that becomes tangible only at the moment it is pierced by subjectivity.
Technics is on the one hand conceived of as a deepening of the limit and, on the other, as the crossing of the limit: in that necessarily schematic topology of modern representation as a conflict between the scientific image and the aesthetic image, the modern subject has become the site of a technics of separation, a figure oscillating between its objective extraction of animality and its subjective tension toward artefactuality. Mechanical hallucination, the invention of cinema, turned that technics of separation into a space: at the time of of the 1848 Revolution, daguerreotype exposure times were too long to enable passing silhouettes in the streets of Paris to be recorded, and only architecture was preserved on the recording surface, but cinema invented a frequency of image capture that generated a system of visibility commensurate with the scale and frequency of the watcher, the human figure. What modernity purified and cinema synthesized into an autonomous experience was, on the one hand, the subject as archaeological site of the conscious, subconscious and unconscious and, on the other, the object as a stratigraphic site for recording, measuring and calculating the discontinuities of the world: it was in the nervosity of the breach harnessing subjects to objects, that the cinematographic image found its space.
Reconstituting the topology of that breach is important because Giraud and Siboni’s agency is situated precisely in the limit traced by the breach in the very constitution of their images. Whether they are folding the camera back onto its existence as a calculating machine (in the series Untitled [La Vallée Von Uexküll]), organizing the appearance of its frame rate with objects materializing historical time (La Mesure Minérale, La Mesure Louvre), or imagining the consequences of an ultimate reflexivity of the medium of film, underscored in its capacity to produce what Stanley Cavell has termed “the mechanical absentification of the spectator” (in the series The Unmanned), they are indeed working to render explicit that implicit breach synthesized by the medium of film, going as far as to make it the sole locus of the visual experience. What matters here is not art and science, but the formal realms that those domains have projected and pitted against each other: what the artists propose is a recording of the morphological events generated by the ceaseless tipping of one image system into another. Not to further disenchant them, nor to liquefy the cleavage between them by re-enchanting them with subjective narratives, but to make the very experience of the limit that separates them a site of production of figures: a technics, held in a suspended form, and thereby made tangible, of separation.
1. See the artists’ statement at www.theunmanned.com - www.centrevox.ca/en/exposition/giraud_siboni/
The Unmanned - 0000 - The Axiom
Season 1, Episode 0, 26 min, 2014 (Excerpt 5 min.)
- Thisstoryoffriedrichkurzweiliwanttotellitmyself -
Narrated by the young Friedrich, at once both father and son of Ray Kurzweil, this story unfolds on the microscopic images of a blade cutting through metal . Filmed at the scale of a folding of matter, this cut is the axiom on which the first season of “The Unmanned” rests.
The Unmanned - 2045 - The Death of Ray Kurzweil
Narrated by the young Friedrich, at once both father and son of Ray Kurzweil, this story unfolds on the microscopic images of a blade cutting through metal . Filmed at the scale of a folding of matter, this cut is the axiom on which the first season of “The Unmanned” rests.
The Unmanned - 2045 - The Death of Ray Kurzweil
Season 1, Episode 1, 26 min, 2014 (Excerpt 5 min.)
- Where genealogy is broken and the father son of a son father drifts in an emerging new world -
First episode of the series, “The Death of Ray Kurzweil” shows the wandering of Ray Kurzweil along with his father-son, Friedrich, in the vastness of a tropical forest. This film of anticipation, entirely filmed by drones, takes place in 2045, at the critical threshold of technological singularity.
First episode of the series, “The Death of Ray Kurzweil” shows the wandering of Ray Kurzweil along with his father-son, Friedrich, in the vastness of a tropical forest. This film of anticipation, entirely filmed by drones, takes place in 2045, at the critical threshold of technological singularity.
The Unmanned - 1997 - The Brute Force
Season 1, Episode 0, 26 min, 2014 (Excerpt 5 min.)
- Where defeated he leaves the scene and the stage is left in search of its scale -
Second episode of “The Unmanned” series, “The Brute Force” reconstructs the minutes following Garry Kasparov’s defeat against the IBM Deep Blue computer on the 11th of May 1997. A camera with computer-programmed movements scrutinises the elements of an empty setting after the chess champion has left the scene, thus abandoning it to the disproportion of a world without its own scale.
The Unmanned - 1834 - La Mémoire de Masse
Second episode of “The Unmanned” series, “The Brute Force” reconstructs the minutes following Garry Kasparov’s defeat against the IBM Deep Blue computer on the 11th of May 1997. A camera with computer-programmed movements scrutinises the elements of an empty setting after the chess champion has left the scene, thus abandoning it to the disproportion of a world without its own scale.
The Unmanned - 1834 - La Mémoire de Masse
Season 1, Episode 6, 13 min, 2015 (Excerpt 7 min.)
- Where that which predicts its past lives working and dies fighting -
Sixth episode of the first season, La Mémoire de Masse unfolds during the second Canuts revolts in Lyon in 1834. These riots now known as the ‘bloody week’ came as a reaction to the automation of work in the silk industry by the Jacquard Loom and its implementation of the punched card – first historical ‘mass storage’ system allowing the inscription and replication of complex weaving patterns. This inaugurating event in the history of workers emancipation movements of the 19th century is actually the first revolt against modern computation. Fully computer-generated, the riot sequence that splits the film in two parts operates a reversed history by transforming a revolt against the algorithm into an algorithm of revolt. Beyond this simple historical vexation, La Mémoire de Masse deploys a dual simulation: both as the reenactment of a past history and the prediction of an entirely different becoming.
Sixth episode of the first season, La Mémoire de Masse unfolds during the second Canuts revolts in Lyon in 1834. These riots now known as the ‘bloody week’ came as a reaction to the automation of work in the silk industry by the Jacquard Loom and its implementation of the punched card – first historical ‘mass storage’ system allowing the inscription and replication of complex weaving patterns. This inaugurating event in the history of workers emancipation movements of the 19th century is actually the first revolt against modern computation. Fully computer-generated, the riot sequence that splits the film in two parts operates a reversed history by transforming a revolt against the algorithm into an algorithm of revolt. Beyond this simple historical vexation, La Mémoire de Masse deploys a dual simulation: both as the reenactment of a past history and the prediction of an entirely different becoming.
Bassae Bassae
Film 35 mm, 9 min, 2014, (Excerpt 5 min.)
Bassae is an ancient Greek temple in the Arcadian mountains of the Peloponnese. “Bassae” is a film made by Jean-Daniel Pollet in 1964. Ever since 1987, when its restoration work began, the temple of Bassae has been covered by a large white tent, making it disappear. Forty years ago, Jean-Daniel Pollet described how stones had fallen back into silence, as the gods withdrew from the scene. “Bassae Bassae” shows the temple now made invisible by its very restoration. Like a contemporary reprise of the original work, “Bassae Bassae” is a film about that which has become mute and invisible.
Bassae Bassae (Voice Over)
Audio, 10 min, 2014 - Text : Alexandre Astruc - Narration : David Negroni
Narration from the film “Bassae” by Jean-Daniel Pollet, first read by Jean Negroni in the original 1964 work reread here by his son David.
La Mesure Minérale
Video HD, 52 mn, 2012 (Excerpt 3min.)
If cinema came into the world as a means of recording its movements, setting its rhythms by the frequencies of life forms, then how should we film the mineral and the singularity of its specific time and unfolding? Shot with an ultra high-speed camera in the empty mineralogy department of the National Natural History Museum closed to the public for the time of its restoration, this film considers the museum as a stone in itself.
La Mesure Louvre
Video HD, 35 min, 2011 (Excerpt 3min.)
The Louvre is the first museum. Its opening in the late eighteenth century inaugurated the critical and political space for the modern sight. In 1989, a particle accelerator was built under the Louvre in order to analyse works of art prior to their restoration. This film shows a confrontation between these two machines of vision and the inevitable death that results from it.
Untitled (La Vallée Von Uexküll, 5120 x 2700)
Video 5K, 36min, 2009-2014 (Excerpt 3min.)
Sixth film in a series of works that responds to a strict protocol: the sunset is filmed with a video camera but without any lens. Every time progress is made in image resolution and a new camera brought to the market, the film is shot once again. This process will meet its critical point when the resolution of the image overpasses the capacity of human perception.
Untitled (La Vallée Von Uexküll, 4096 x 2304)
Video 4K, 36min, 2009-2014 (Excerpt 3min.)
Fifth film in a series of works that responds to a strict protocol: the sunset is filmed with a video camera but without any lens. Every time progress is made in image resolution and a new camera brought to the market, the film is shot once again. This process will meet its critical point when the resolution of the image overpasses the capacity of human perception.
Untitled (La Vallée Von Uexküll, 2048 x 1152)
Video 2K, 36min, 2009-2014 (Excerpt 3min.)
Fourth film in a series of works that responds to a strict protocol: the sunset is filmed with a video camera but without any lens. Every time progress is made in image resolution and a new camera brought to the market, the film is shot once again. This process will meet its critical point when the resolution of the image overpasses the capacity of human perception.
Untitled (La Vallée Von Uexküll, 1920 x 1080)
Video HD, 36min, 2009-2014 (Excerpt 3min.)
Third film in a series of works that responds to a strict protocol: the sunset is filmed with a video camera but without any lens. Every time progress is made in image resolution and a new camera brought to the market, the film is shot once again. This process will meet its critical point when the resolution of the image overpasses the capacity of human perception.
Untitled (La Vallée Von Uexküll, 1280 x 720)
Untitled (La Vallée Von Uexküll, 1280 x 720)
Video 1K, 36min, 2009-2014 (Excerpt 3min.)
Second film in a series of works that responds to a strict protocol: the sunset is filmed with a video camera but without any lens. Every time progress is made in image resolution and a new camera brought to the market, the film is shot once again. This process will meet its critical point when the resolution of the image overpasses the capacity of human perception.
Untitled (La Vallée Von Uexküll, 720 x 576)
Video SD PAL, 36min, 2009-2014 (Excerpt 3min.)
First film in a series of works that responds to a strict protocol: the sunset is filmed with a video camera but without any lens. Every time progress is made in image resolution and a new camera brought to the market, the film is shot once again. This process will meet its critical point when the resolution of the image overpasses the capacity of human perception. - www.theunmanned.com/
Fabien Giraud (1980) and Raphaël Siboni (1981) live and work in Paris. They met at the École nationale supérieure des Arts Décoratifs in Paris, but only began collaborating as artists when both were studying at Le Fresnoy – Studio national des arts contemporains, in 2007. They developed a practice influenced by documentary and other cinema traditions, and their joint projects have been shown in such forums as the Lyon Biennale (2007); the SITE Santa Fe Biennial in New Mexico, and the Palais de Tokyo in Paris (2008); at Gertrude Contemporary, Fitzroy, Australia, the Grand Palais, Paris, and the Centre d’Art Neuchâtel, Switzerland (2009); at Galerie Loevenbruck, Paris (2010); and at the Centre d’Art Santa Mònica, Barcelona (2012). The Casino Luxembourg was the venue for their first major monographic exhibition, The Present Series, in January 2014. Fabien Giraud and Raphaël Siboni are represented by Galerie Loevenbruck, Paris.
Fabien Giraud (1980) and Raphaël Siboni (1981) live and work in Paris. They met at the École nationale supérieure des Arts Décoratifs in Paris, but only began collaborating as artists when both were studying at Le Fresnoy – Studio national des arts contemporains, in 2007. They developed a practice influenced by documentary and other cinema traditions, and their joint projects have been shown in such forums as the Lyon Biennale (2007); the SITE Santa Fe Biennial in New Mexico, and the Palais de Tokyo in Paris (2008); at Gertrude Contemporary, Fitzroy, Australia, the Grand Palais, Paris, and the Centre d’Art Neuchâtel, Switzerland (2009); at Galerie Loevenbruck, Paris (2010); and at the Centre d’Art Santa Mònica, Barcelona (2012). The Casino Luxembourg was the venue for their first major monographic exhibition, The Present Series, in January 2014. Fabien Giraud and Raphaël Siboni are represented by Galerie Loevenbruck, Paris.
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