Reference Material 1: Antwerp 93: A Tricky Shot by Bart Verschaffel

Note: This was first published in ARCHIS. Architecture Urbanism Visual Arts (Rotterdam) 93 - 3

The Cultural Capital of Europe project is designed and developed by an independent organisation, Antwerp 93. But a great deal happened before it was founded and could finally set to work.

After Antwerp had been officially designated cultural capital, the project was initiated, as was to be expected, in much the same way as most cultural capitals before it. The city council installed a co-ordinating committee and formed working parties with the chairmen, directors, dignitaries and managers of Antwerp's many cultural institutions, organisations and associations. Encouraged by the prospect of ample resources and a large, international public, they were given the task of drafting a programme proposal. Among the working groups formed were the groups 'Exhibitions', 'Architecture and Cityscape' (with the burgomaster and two aldermen as three of the five members), 'Film', 'Theatre', 'Literature', 'Gastronomy', 'Diamond' and 'Sports'. Twelve months later a long list of proposals was tabled - a miscellany of events with no overall vision or concept. While there were plenty of trees, there was still no wood.

The organisers were forced to conclude that they had gone about things the wrong way. Cities like Florence or Paris, Berlin or Madrid, or even Amsterdam would have no problem setting to work: with a larger public and ample resources, you can get the leaders of existing cultural institutions to do what they always do: think up a few extras and draw up a programme. After all, these cities are used to hosting internationals, to use a football expression. Paris and Berlin and Madrid are the cultural capitals of Europe, they consecrate cultural value, they have the money, the large opera houses, theatres, museums and galleries, the major newspapers, magazines and publishing houses, the new architecture, large universities, and so forth. The problem of these real cultural capitals - and the main reason for the near-failure of the Cultural Capital of Europe projects in these cities - is that you can hardly be exceptional for a year when you are that every year. For the real cultural capitals, a project like the Cultural Capital of Europe is in fact superfluous. A limited, additional project is lost in the profusion of existing events; besides, something special is organised practically every year for one reason or another. Europe's real cultural capitals have little to gain from being officially designated Cultural Capital for a year.

For the smaller cities, however, it is quite another matter. The problem as well as the advantage of smaller, culturally less important cities such as Glasgow, Dublin and now Antwerp is that they are not accustomed to playing internationals. Antwerp has a rich past and a significant historic building preservation society; several renowned practitioners of art and theatre live and work in Antwerp and in Flanders; opera in Brussels and Antwerp has found fresh impetus; De Singel is an arts centre (with a chiefly receptive function) of European allure; important European art has a small though excellent following in Flanders and Antwerp; Hugo Claus now lives in Antwerp. But for a variety of reasons all this does not add up to a cultural capital. It is not quite clear what European cultures hopes to find in Flanders or Antwerp. The problem is how to turn Antwerp - in some special way and for at least twelve months - into a cultural capital.

The upshot of the tug-o'-war behind closed doors was a fresh start towards the end of May 1990. The council commissioned a separate organisation named Antwerp 93 to design and develop the project 'Antwerp: Cultural Capital'. The leadership of the project was entrusted to an intendant with no responsibilities within Antwerp's existing cultural infrastructure and no history in the city. Eric Antonis accepted the task on condition that he was given independence and full artistic freedom and responsibility.

Together with a small staff, Antonis began by drafting an overall concept and setting this out in a Policy Plan. Antwerp 93 seeks to review the state of the art of Flemish and European art and culture, focusing in particular on the cultural identity, cultural diversity and the role of the city as vector of culture. The programme is founded on a number of basic premises: reflection upon Antwerp's history, critical appraisal of European culture and cultural policy, belief in art and the artists, and Antwerp's option for new art. It also focuses on two burning issues: urban planning policy and cultural infrastructure, and the allochthonous cultures. Next, Eric Antonis formed an artistic team which was given the task of translating the policy plan into a motivated and purposeful programme. For this, Antonis handed over his artistic freedom to the co-ordinators and project leaders who - with one exception - had no involvement with Antwerp's artistic and cultural policy, and were a generation younger than the group responsible for the phase-one programme proposals.

The cultural political significance of Antwerp 93 for Flanders, leaving aside the merits or quality of the programme, lies in the attitude to art and culture in a large-scale and prestigious official project developed in close proximity to the political and economic powers. The normal procedure is to divide the available attention and above all the resources like a cake in accordance with the more or less stable Flemish political and cultural balance of power, established at the end of the sixties and institutionalised in what is known as the Culture Pact of 1972. Peace is maintained by ensuring that everyone gets something and that no-one is left out, while war is waged over who gets the largest slice and the political leaders who decide on the size of the portions see to it that their friends get the most. Antwerp 93 disrupts this procedure: the general management by the board of directors is distinct from the artistic design and development of the project. Antonis and his artistic staff have compiled a personal and therefore controversial programme involving and concerning the arts, and have sought and selected partners inside and outside of Antwerp with whom they can realise it.

An Arts Festival: why art?

Underpinning the mode in which Antwerp has given shape to the cultural capital project is its choice of the arts. And instead of casting doubt upon this choice the notorious national elections of 24 November 1991, when the right-wing Flemish Block and the ROSSEM protest party recorded spectacular gains in Antwerp, only served to confirm it. For opting for art always implies opting for art in a specific manner. And that means opting for a specific sort of art. Why?

The peculiar, hybrid undertaking which we know today as 'art' has fulfilled manifold functions in the course of its long and complex history. It has served many masters, and the artist has taken many forms. Art has been essentially religious and has given lustre to the religious, political, and also the economic powers. It has furnished history-seeking power with figure-heads and statues. It has decorated bourgeois interiors and has provided the rationalised lives that go with them with an apology, rapture and a prospect of More, Other, Higher and Deeper. Today art is a leisure activity, it fills talks shows and newspaper supplements, and compensates for the strain of working. Art is an important trump for city marketing. Art creates jobs. And so forth.

But at the same time, ever since art became 'modern' or simply 'art', which is since the Renaissance and only fully since the nineteenth century, art has been autonomous and independent. Naturally art can be used for all sorts of purposes, but no-one owns art, and modern art in the first instance serves itself. As a result, art functions in a peculiar way in our culture: a something which should serve no purpose, as something which has had no master since the aristocracy and the church, as something that exists for everyone and no-one. Art has gradually become a sanctuary, a place where there are no obligations. And that implies that art is a useless, superfluous activity, and no longer has a place. Art - but who or what is it for, who or what is it against? What are appropriate requirements, expectations and judgements? What is good or no good, interesting or uninteresting, beautiful or ugly?

And yet there is a strange and officially endorsed consensus that whatever there is to be seen on stage, whatever is kept in museums, whatever is written in books is important for our culture and our Western, European society. And that may well be the case, precisely because art no longer has a clear, set place. Today art is potentially one of the last places where the thoughts and experiences of individuals can be publicised without being filtered through representation, inhibited by media codes, and constrained by the demands of efficiency and usefulness. Today art is a place where in an odd, intractable manner important matters can be publicly clarified (which is why it s politically important at this point in time), where people can think aloud, can search for words and images. Today art acts as one of the rare places where things and life are not simplified and made agreeably sweet, but can remain difficult and complicated, where they can be vague and complex, dark and ugly, or terrifying beautiful. Art is a place where indolence and mediocrity are not tolerated, where we don't comprehend everything straight away and it doesn't matter, where life need not be pleasant or fantastic, where we do not have to be important or efficient, and are not obliged to 'amuse ourselves to death'. Art is important because we have no proper place for it, because art can no longer be unequivocally agreeable, amusing, subversive or official, and because we are saddled with it.

Art acts in our culture and in these specific historic circumstances as a Noah's Ark, a shelter, as a rare, hospitable place for those seeking refuge from the tyranny of consumer logic, commercialisation, forced cheerfulness and mindlessness. Naturally, this is merely a statement of intent and not a factual account: there is enough art and there are enough artists to whom this does not apply, or applies only occasionally or partly. Yet there is so much charlatanism, commercialism, waffle, mediocrity, and so much empty art that dreams of nothing but success. Nonetheless, it is important to opt consciously for art, for it can provide a temporary - albeit precarious - safe house for a number of attitudes and sentiments fundamental to a democratic culture which are in danger of stifling: thirst for knowledge, scepticism, ability to cope with ambiguity and complexity and not-knowing, detachment, personal insight and personal judgement, creativity and imagination, free thinking and a free life.

In consciously opting for art in these unusual - and in Antwerp extremely unusual - circumstances, Antwerp 93 opts for what art represents today. In Antwerp the cultural capital project is cast in the form of an Arts Festival which rather than presenting arbitrary events, for the moment addresses the place of art, and creates a place for art that makes no concessions to itself, nor to its public. This has led to a highly complicated and extremely explosive internal conflict over the fact that Antwerp 93 is obliged under the pressure of the official bodies involved and sponsor's expectations to present and advertise itself in a manner and in public places (from billboards to television screens and tourist brochures) which invariably seem to falsify the content. For officially, of course, it is perfectly plain what purpose of art should serve and what its role is: it lends prestige and adorns the interior. Inevitably, Antwerp 93, like art itself, will be exploited, in order to recoup expenditure. All one can do is aim well, allow for crosswind, and throw the ball in hard. However, exploitation and the fight to get across the truth and meaning of Antwerp 93 is not the main issue. For in the end what counts is not just how well a result tallies with the tactics, but also - and not in the last place - how in the time lapse between throwing in and the result (the shot) art is turned into an object of struggle. And by being an object of dispute and by cleverly resisting vested interests and possessive claims, by confronting art with power, art can make a difference in society and carve a niche for itself as well as become topical.

Elitist Art?

Antwerp 93 is attracting a great deal of criticism. Among the objections and reproaches two persistently recur. The first voices the sentiments of the institutions and artists who feel they have been passed over: Antwerp 93 is a missed opportunity for Flemish and Antwerp art and culture! The second is expressed on behalf of 'the people': Antwerp 93 has opted for an elitist programme, and what good is that to anyone?

Some people in Antwerp and Flanders understandably expected and wished Antwerp 93 to be set up as a mammoth promotion campaign for art and culture from Antwerp and Flanders. Now that the eyes of Europe and the World are firmly fixed on Flanders, we should show the world what we have to offer so that it can discover us. Flemish art and culture should be presented to the world - in order of importance - in the full glare of footlights and in the company of great European stars who as honoured guests and colleagues lend iridescence to the event. In this promotional campaign what matters is not whether anything happens or what happens, but who will be seen, who will be 'there' and who will not. The principal requirement Antwerp 93 has to meet is the dual demand imposed on every official fair, every world exhibition and every school party, namely, that of being both prestigious and 'representative'. The expectation or demand that the programme be 'representative'. The expectation or demand that the programme be 'representative' ultimately boils down to staging the Antwerp-Flemish canon and consensus and everyone having to have a role. And the programme has to be prestigious so that before the eyes of a large audience the aura of the famous Names will radiate on whomever may stand next to them, be it briefly though long enough for a photograph and unforgettable memories. But Antwerp 93 is not representative, it is not based on consensus, it allocates a large portion of its resources to obscure projects, does not invite Pavarotti, prints too few posters, misses the chance to put Flanders on the cultural map.

The demand that the promotion of Flemish art and culture should be Antwerp 93's main objective is founded on an outmoded and false impression of how cultural value originates and is consecrated. A fringe area like Flanders or Antwerp cannot consecrate cultural value for the rest of Europe, and it is certainly incapable of consecrating its own cultural value during what is seen as a extremely official event. It is not a statement you can make yourself. The only way for Antwerp to create an interesting event is for Antwerp 93 to noticeably differ from an official Festival in which a culture sings its own praises; this is the only way for the selected Flemish artists to engage international attention (not because they are Flemish or representative but because they are hosting an 'international'). Promotion of local art can never be an objective of a cultural capital programme, merely the side effect of a project which is concerned not with local art but with art itself. The best way Antwerp 93 can serve the interests of Flemish art and culture is not by taking advantage of the attention to wave at the camera and flaunt as many Flemish names and faces as possible, but by being a modest and prudent host in its own idiosyncratic way to European culture and to that Flemish art which clearly forms - or could form - a part of European culture.

Is an Arts Festival an 'elitist event' when a minority disregards the needs and wishes of others and uses money that belongs to everyone to engage in activities that nobody benefits from? The programme for the festival, which seeks to review the state of the art of European art and culture and is intellectually underpinned, may seem 'difficult'. 'Difficult' here means that a large number of the events presuppose prior knowledge of what contemporary European art entails and the issues it addresses. The many groups, both large and small, who take a close or cursory interest in art and who on becoming acquainted with European art and culture are keen to demonstrate the reflectivity that modern and contemporary art demands, do indeed constitute a minority. The fundamental issue then is who is art intended for? Should the fireworks or every man's festivities distract attention, and be an apology for an undemocratic, parasitic, socially indefensible art event? What good is an Arts Festival to people not interested in art and culture?

It has long been assumed - the optimistic assumption from Flanders' prosperous days - that if art is important it is important for everyone. And that means that everyone has to believe art is important, and that more and more people, as many as possible, ought to participate in art. It is the old idea of the diffusion of culture: bringing art to the people and the people to art. This has generated not only a network of cultural centres but demands and expectations regarding artistic content and cultural life. The more people it reaches, the more important art becomes. Art and culture which appear to resist such diffusion, which recoil and are not useful, which do not make things easy for 'the public', cannot be shared, are not spectator-friendly, are socially irrelevant, antisocial and elitist. The idea of cultural diffusion degenerates into populism when culture becomes a form of relaxation in consumer logic: quality art is art which 'the public' wants or demands, and thus which is successful.

It is obvious that art should be accessible to everyone. But accessibility in this sense has no relevance for artistic content. Here accessibility implies that anyone wishing to do so should be able to participate fully in cultural life - and to engage in, for example, ultra-hermetic, difficult and user-unfriendly art. The democratic element of art has nothing to do with art itself, or whether it is hermetic or simple, difficult or easy to understand. It has to do with elementary conditions, such as whether art is produced, preserved, shown or printed in sufficient quantity. It has to do with the price of admission tickets and books, with convenient opening hours, with the provision of good museums, good libraries, with the existence of a well-functioning cultural press, with the opportunity to develop taste and judgement and so remain informed without having to undertake expensive trips. Such accessibility has to do with education: education should be arranged so that young people are exposed to brief encounters with art, and are given the chance to discover what it is that they reject as uninteresting. The fact that art demands involvement, experience and time, and preoccupies a small group of people, a minority, does not mean that art is 'elitist'. Art becomes elitist when those who wish to participate are unable to do so for social or financial reasons.

Of course, art is always there for viewers, spectators, listeners or readers. A work of art is always a cry for attention, and that attention is constitutive for the work of art. Art does not exist without a public. But that in no way implies that the public has a right to the art it desires. Art does not exist for the sake of its public, whereas the public does for the work of art. An exhibition, a concert, or a book has a right to the attention it needs in order to exist, to be admired or to be rejected. It is important that art gets the public it needs: full houses for music and theatre, a practical number of people at exhibitions, an interest in books but not in the appearance of the writer or what he feels when he wins a prize. It is unrealistic and, what is more, socially unintelligent to want everyone, or as many people as possible, to participate in art. There should be sufficient public, not too few and not too many.

It is therefore foolish to interpret 'success' - the readiness of a certain number of people to purchase a book or attend an exhibition or concert - as an indication of quality or its 'social significance', and thus as the legitimation of a work or art form. For the significance and the value of the art industry is quite distinct from the measure of participation. Art is important for everyone, even for those whom it does not interest. In the same way that it is of general interest that football exists for the survival of this high-tech, democratic society, so it is in everyone's interest that art exists. It is in everyone's interest that somewhere in this complicated, complex society the open space of art exists, and that a sufficiently large number of people, artists and public are passionately engaged in this difficult, unclear and useless activity. Here lies the justification for Antwerp 93's decision to make as much room as possible for art in the crisis-stricken Antwerp of 1993.

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Reference Material 1: Antwerp 93: A Tricky Shot by Bart Verschaffel