Ines Schinazi
As technology evolves, art follows.
Sometimes art sprints in the same direction as technology. Often, it purposefully lags behind, relishing in the comfort of brutal minimalism and raw simplicity.
Sophie Calle’s art exhibit “Prenez Soin de Vous” (“Take care of yourself”) blends art and technology, so naturally, that the two become completely indistinguishable.
I had to catch my breath a few times. I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel that Calle manages to truly pinpoint the moment in which we are living. This moment of “shared life,” in which most social interaction takes place in cyber space, as we coexist, slipping between our selves and machines.
Calle created an entire art exhibit based on the “breakup e-mail,” (yes this is how some people breakup these days), she received from a man named Gregoire.
The exhibit consists of the rigorous and thorough analysis of Gregoire’s e-mail, by women from all sorts of professions, who seek to understand Gregoire, through their field of expertise.
The e-mail is analyzed by: a psychotherapist, a cartoonist, an SMS transcriber, an eleven year old girl, a singer, a dancer, a headhunter, a mother, a lawyer, a stylist, an actress, an elementary school teacher, an editor, and basically any other profession you can imagine. The analysis of these women is then transformed into art pieces.
I have to admit I was a bit depressed by the idea of a break up e-mail. It made me think of that episode in “Sex and the City” in which Berger breaks up with Carrie on a “post-it.” At least the “post-it,” is hand written, adding a touch of personal, which e-mail can never provide.
A break up e-mail feels like the last straw. The tipping point…a clear sign that we’ve degenerated into a sort of cyber hell.
I also feel that this technique of breaking up over e-mail allows for an intense level of self-protection, which face-to-face interaction, never provides.
How much of our technology use (e-mail, texts, facebook, cell phone conversations, etc), is simply an attempt at self-protection?
Why have a painful conversation when you can just fire off a text or e-mail? Why have to stare into the other’s hurt eyes, when you can just avoid “the look” altogether? You literally don’t have to see the hurt.
Are we all becoming cowards like Gregoire? Have these “machines” become our shields in love and in everyday life?
The exhibit presents us with an abundance of contradictions regarding technology. The Internet gives us the impression of intense fluidity and malleability. Yet, on the other hand, things are very much “permanent.” Unlike in a conversation, it’s often impossible to “take things back.”
It’s much easier to “lose” (or burn) a hand written love letter (or breakup letter) than to destroy an e-mail forever.
Also, contrary to face-to-face interaction, which gets stuck in a moment, an e-mail is forever. An e-mail can easily be re-read, relived, acted, sung, danced, interpreted, over and over and over, in an infinite number of ways, as proved by Calle’s exhibit. Interestingly, this technology, which seems so wide open and free, can actually be extremely binding.
I was also intrigued by the fact that Calle’s analysis focused solely on the female gaze, and concentrated itself intensely along the lines of their professions.
Maybe in a world characterized by such cold anonymity, individuals cling to their professions more than ever, as a marker of identity and of self.
Also, perhaps there has never been such a clear example of the lack of privacy in today’s world. Such a private e-mail has been diffused into the public sphere. Its dissection by random strangers, who are nonetheless “outsiders,” when it comes to Gregoire and Sophie’s private affairs, lies there for everybody to see.
Calle blurs the lines between art and technology, the public and the private, one’s professional identity and personal identity, and between love and hate. Yet one thing remains in constant focus: it’s clear that technology is definitely on Calle’s side.
