| Amit goffer- Ecce homo (Eng).pdf |
Amit Goffer – Ecce homo
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––--––––––
Places, spaces or sites, transitional sites and non-sites; the seemingly
or perhaps even real existing, ever-increasing constriction of
space; irritation, anxiety and feelings of discomfort and unease;
curiosity about events that affect us and, at the same time, not wanting
to know what has actually occurred; a desire to distance oneself
from all of this – Amit Goffer’s paintings, objects and installations
confront the viewer with for the most part cryptic borderline situations,
both literally and metaphorically. Architecture plays an essential role
here – already existing spaces, as well as those constructed by the
artist himself. In all cases, we are dealing here with predominantly
mental spaces, i.e. with the experience of space – or perhaps the
space that develops within our imagination, a product of our mind’s
eye. The viewer is thus an integral component of the works of this
young Israeli artist, who has been living and working in Düsseldorf
and Neuss for three years now.
Can one stockpile sleep? Can you prepare yourself for – not to mention
protect yourself from – something which is unknown? Or is all
that, which lies in the future, not actually, by its very nature, uncertain?
And is uncertainty automatically something negative? With his installation
“Sleep for Tomorrow”, Amit Goffer offers us a kind of readymade,
which, freely adapted from Marcel Duchamp, takes on a whole
new meaning through the simple process of relocation, that is to say
through a contextual shift. In this case, however, the shift in context is
not only spatial, but also and especially temporal. A so-called “oneman
bunker” or “protective cell” from the Second World War is transformed
into a contemporary “experiential chamber”. Like a small and
compact guard house with narrow horizontal slits at eye level, through
which one has an almost panoramic view onto the surrounding area –
and through which one could also shoot a weapon, protected by the
thick concrete walls of this curious miniature architecture. Although
the bunker is not equipped with electrical lighting, the interior space
of the cell is covered with fluorescent afterglow paint, which stores
the sunlight and lights up in the dark. The result is a curious “lightspace”,
such as those used in esoteric therapeutic treatments or for
meditational spaces inspired by Zen Buddhism. One might also be
reminded of James Turrell’s “Perceptual Cells”, enclosed, autonomous
spaces built specifically for one person at a time, which addresses
issues such as isolation and claustrophobia. The outside world slowly
disappears, so that one is automatically left alone with oneself and
one’s own thoughts. Goffer’s cold protective space comprised of heavy,
raw concrete is transformed into an atmospheric mental space, which
transports the viewer/participant into another dimension – to a space
of personal introspection, i.e. self-observation.
Amit Goffer addresses everyday social and political challenges at
the dawn of the third millennium. In his works, architecture stands
proxy for the people for whom it is built. The result is a kind of
dialogue – but, as so often in real life, the great question is whether
or not one is prepared to take part in this dialogue, or if one would
rather simply carry on without contributing anything and thus remaining
completely uninvolved. Like a visionary premonition of the
increasing self-isolation of mankind in the age of digital post-industrialism,
Goffer’s one-man bunker stands for the seemingly omnipresent
bulk heading of individuals in lonely self-sufficiency and
self-despising egoism. “Save yourself” as the sad motto of an entire
generation.
The concept of the necessity of protection – and especially self-protection
– is characteristic of contemporary society. But against what
or whom are we actually protecting ourselves? The so-called “Pegida”
movement in Dresden and other (not only East German) cities, for
example, fights against the “Islamization” of Western culture. On
the other hand, there is also a counter-movement, which fights for
diversity and integration. But what does this much vaunted word
“integration” actually mean? When one consults a dictionary, one
finds the following definition: “incorporation as equals into society
or an organization of individuals of different groups; the combining
and coordinating of separate parts or elements into a unified whole”.
Under the heading “integrate”, one finds “to unite with something
else; to incorporate, to join together”. Both words stem from the
Latin word integrāre, which translates as “integrate, refresh, renew”.
Synonyms for the word “integration” include “addition, combination,
amalgamation”. Much more important in this context is, however,
the definition of the adjective “integrative”; here, one finds something,
which is probably surprising for most people, namely “essential for
completion”. The word “integration” is also closely related to the
virtue of “integrity”, i.e. with “the state of being complete; the quality
or state of being of sound moral principle; uprightness, honesty and
sincerity”. There is social integration, as well as political and economic
integration; there is, however, also scholastic integration with
regard to races and handicaps, as well as medicinal and therapeutic
integration and so on and so forth.
What is also interesting is what one does not find when investigating
the meaning of the word “integration”, namely “to conform, to
assimilate oneself; to relinquish one’s own culture, traditions and
customs in an effort to fit into a new situation”. Integration is thus
not a one-way street, but rather a process of give and take; one
does not adapt unilaterally, but rather both sides come together
reciprocally. It is, as discerned from the above, a “consolidation of
parts to form a whole”.
“Integration” is also the title of what is probably Amit Goffer’s most
important installation from the past several years. What lies behind
this; what is he referring to with this title? Goffer places great value
on the fact that, as an artist, he is not the “author”, but rather something
akin to a “catalyser”; this means that, as an artist, he instigates
something – something which we, as viewers/participants have to
pick up on and carry further. Joseph Beuys’ concept of the “social
sculpture” comes to mind, whereby Goffer places equal value on
both the social and sculptural aspects of his works – his art can thus
never be confused with politics, but remains consciously embedded
within a specific artistic tradition. “Integration” consists for the most
part of a large wire mesh fence – a fence, which encloses, or perhaps
excludes, something. What or who is being protected here?
Who should be kept out? Who is excluded? Or is the fence there to
protect the viewers from something? If so, what could this be?
In contrast to his readymade installation “Sleep for Tomorrow”, which
focuses on the individual experience of single viewers/participants,
“Integration” addresses itself to the collective. One is reminded
perhaps of a detention camp – one thinks of refugees from northern
Africa, who risk their lives to find a new, better and more democratic
existence in Europe. Or – from another perspective – perhaps the
same refugees, who threaten our economy, our affluence, our values.
It is all a matter of one’s own personal point of view. For are these
refugees really so different than the guest workers from Turkey, Italy
or Greece recruited offensively, that is to say invited, by the Federal
Republic of Germany during the course of its economic development?
How do these two situations (i.e. that of the refugees and that of the
guest workers) stand in relation to the current expansion of the EU
into Eastern Europe – an expansion, which arouses a sense of fear
and caution in many Western Europeans?
Goffer’s construction could also be understood as a kind of prison.
Guantanamo Bay or perhaps even a concentration camp en miniature?
Or does it mark/defend a border? A fence that separates two countries
or cities, as used to be the case in Berlin or as this still exists between
North and South Korea or between Israel and Palestine. Will such
a fence soon be installed in Ukraine, as a kind of preliminary stage
before the complete secession of the pro-Russian eastern territories?
What is going on in Goffer’s installation? Who or what is being
threatened and must thus be protected? Who is the evil one here,
who tries to threaten the viewers or whoever else? Or is the installation
completely and utterly harmless? Playgrounds – especially but
not only in large cities – are often enclosed by fences in order to
protect the children playing there. Perhaps this thing that Amit Goffer
has constructed for us is actually a kind of playground for adults.
What’s going on here? Question upon question – and hardly an
answer in sight. With his installation, Amit Goffer does not present
a site in and of itself, but rather much more a kind of in-between
site, a temporary architecture, which, in principle, could be installed
anywhere and everywhere. Seen in this way, Goffer’s “Integration” is
somehow related to the “Portable War Memorial” created by Edward
Kienholz in the fateful year of 1968. Portable, since war exists everywhere
and at all times, soon perhaps also in (Eastern) Europe. And
where there is conflict, one needs fences and camps to keep out
or detain the evil enemies, or to separate and distinguish ourselves
from the “other”, whoever these may be. And temporary architecture
is ideally suited to this purpose.
What do the viewers/participants feel when confronted with Amit
Goffer’s installation? Threat or protection? Anxiety? In any event, a
high degree of emotionality. More than anything else, the space or
site presented here is a mental space. But it is also a cage – an
interpretation, which is underscored by the sounds that are, in some
cases, reminiscent of animal sounds. Cages are also meant to guard
and protect, but also to confine – it all depends on the respective
situation. A cage in a zoo, for example, protects the visitors from the
wild animals, while a birdcage serves less to protect humans than to
provide a “home” for beautiful birds, while at the same time detaining
them and keeping them from flying away. And what about the
rotating object in the centre of the installation? And the construction
in the corner, which looks like a kind of birdhouse, but could also be
interpreted as a watchtower or elevated perch for hunting. Emitting
from this curious construction is a bluish-white light, which blinks at
apparently irregular intervals. Associations are evoked of the blinking
lights of airplanes in the nocturnal sky or of the rotating beacons
of lighthouses that provide guidance for ships at night. Or is a message
being transmitted in some encrypted form of the Morse code?
Similar lights or flashes can also be discerned on the long, thin,
panoramic painting hanging on the fence near the entrance to the
installation. In all cases, especially today, in our age of ubiquitous
NSA observation, from which not even the German Chancellor and
other international heads of state are exempted, one inevitably also
thinks of surveillance.
Amit Goffer’s works are located somewhere between political art
and social sculpture – for his primary goal is to instigate discussion.
Like Joseph Beuys, who coined the term “social sculpture”, Goffer
places great emphasis on the fact that he is not merely appropriating
images or objects from daily life, but is actually und utterly
involved in the process of artistic creation, in which aesthetics
obviously play a significant, albeit not central role. The inclusion
of one of his dark, enigmatic landscape panorama paintings in the
“Integration” installation is but one case in point, as is the fact that
the sculptural elements within this installation can actually function
as independent sculptures. For in the final analysis, Goffer is not an
activist, but rather a visual artist. This is perhaps also the reason
behind the fact that his politically and socially oriented statements
can never be pinned down to singular events and issues. Goffer’s
works are generally participatory – the reactions and active involvement
of the viewer/participant are thus essential and determining.
They are thus closely related to the early installations of Bruce
Nauman, which are also extremely subtle and go far beyond the
political in order to address the conditio humana in general. Like
Bruce Nauman, Amit Goffer is interested in psychological moments,
during which one is forced to confront one’s own fears and anxieties.
Ecce homo!
Gérard A. Goodrow
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––--––––––
Places, spaces or sites, transitional sites and non-sites; the seemingly
or perhaps even real existing, ever-increasing constriction of
space; irritation, anxiety and feelings of discomfort and unease;
curiosity about events that affect us and, at the same time, not wanting
to know what has actually occurred; a desire to distance oneself
from all of this – Amit Goffer’s paintings, objects and installations
confront the viewer with for the most part cryptic borderline situations,
both literally and metaphorically. Architecture plays an essential role
here – already existing spaces, as well as those constructed by the
artist himself. In all cases, we are dealing here with predominantly
mental spaces, i.e. with the experience of space – or perhaps the
space that develops within our imagination, a product of our mind’s
eye. The viewer is thus an integral component of the works of this
young Israeli artist, who has been living and working in Düsseldorf
and Neuss for three years now.
Can one stockpile sleep? Can you prepare yourself for – not to mention
protect yourself from – something which is unknown? Or is all
that, which lies in the future, not actually, by its very nature, uncertain?
And is uncertainty automatically something negative? With his installation
“Sleep for Tomorrow”, Amit Goffer offers us a kind of readymade,
which, freely adapted from Marcel Duchamp, takes on a whole
new meaning through the simple process of relocation, that is to say
through a contextual shift. In this case, however, the shift in context is
not only spatial, but also and especially temporal. A so-called “oneman
bunker” or “protective cell” from the Second World War is transformed
into a contemporary “experiential chamber”. Like a small and
compact guard house with narrow horizontal slits at eye level, through
which one has an almost panoramic view onto the surrounding area –
and through which one could also shoot a weapon, protected by the
thick concrete walls of this curious miniature architecture. Although
the bunker is not equipped with electrical lighting, the interior space
of the cell is covered with fluorescent afterglow paint, which stores
the sunlight and lights up in the dark. The result is a curious “lightspace”,
such as those used in esoteric therapeutic treatments or for
meditational spaces inspired by Zen Buddhism. One might also be
reminded of James Turrell’s “Perceptual Cells”, enclosed, autonomous
spaces built specifically for one person at a time, which addresses
issues such as isolation and claustrophobia. The outside world slowly
disappears, so that one is automatically left alone with oneself and
one’s own thoughts. Goffer’s cold protective space comprised of heavy,
raw concrete is transformed into an atmospheric mental space, which
transports the viewer/participant into another dimension – to a space
of personal introspection, i.e. self-observation.
Amit Goffer addresses everyday social and political challenges at
the dawn of the third millennium. In his works, architecture stands
proxy for the people for whom it is built. The result is a kind of
dialogue – but, as so often in real life, the great question is whether
or not one is prepared to take part in this dialogue, or if one would
rather simply carry on without contributing anything and thus remaining
completely uninvolved. Like a visionary premonition of the
increasing self-isolation of mankind in the age of digital post-industrialism,
Goffer’s one-man bunker stands for the seemingly omnipresent
bulk heading of individuals in lonely self-sufficiency and
self-despising egoism. “Save yourself” as the sad motto of an entire
generation.
The concept of the necessity of protection – and especially self-protection
– is characteristic of contemporary society. But against what
or whom are we actually protecting ourselves? The so-called “Pegida”
movement in Dresden and other (not only East German) cities, for
example, fights against the “Islamization” of Western culture. On
the other hand, there is also a counter-movement, which fights for
diversity and integration. But what does this much vaunted word
“integration” actually mean? When one consults a dictionary, one
finds the following definition: “incorporation as equals into society
or an organization of individuals of different groups; the combining
and coordinating of separate parts or elements into a unified whole”.
Under the heading “integrate”, one finds “to unite with something
else; to incorporate, to join together”. Both words stem from the
Latin word integrāre, which translates as “integrate, refresh, renew”.
Synonyms for the word “integration” include “addition, combination,
amalgamation”. Much more important in this context is, however,
the definition of the adjective “integrative”; here, one finds something,
which is probably surprising for most people, namely “essential for
completion”. The word “integration” is also closely related to the
virtue of “integrity”, i.e. with “the state of being complete; the quality
or state of being of sound moral principle; uprightness, honesty and
sincerity”. There is social integration, as well as political and economic
integration; there is, however, also scholastic integration with
regard to races and handicaps, as well as medicinal and therapeutic
integration and so on and so forth.
What is also interesting is what one does not find when investigating
the meaning of the word “integration”, namely “to conform, to
assimilate oneself; to relinquish one’s own culture, traditions and
customs in an effort to fit into a new situation”. Integration is thus
not a one-way street, but rather a process of give and take; one
does not adapt unilaterally, but rather both sides come together
reciprocally. It is, as discerned from the above, a “consolidation of
parts to form a whole”.
“Integration” is also the title of what is probably Amit Goffer’s most
important installation from the past several years. What lies behind
this; what is he referring to with this title? Goffer places great value
on the fact that, as an artist, he is not the “author”, but rather something
akin to a “catalyser”; this means that, as an artist, he instigates
something – something which we, as viewers/participants have to
pick up on and carry further. Joseph Beuys’ concept of the “social
sculpture” comes to mind, whereby Goffer places equal value on
both the social and sculptural aspects of his works – his art can thus
never be confused with politics, but remains consciously embedded
within a specific artistic tradition. “Integration” consists for the most
part of a large wire mesh fence – a fence, which encloses, or perhaps
excludes, something. What or who is being protected here?
Who should be kept out? Who is excluded? Or is the fence there to
protect the viewers from something? If so, what could this be?
In contrast to his readymade installation “Sleep for Tomorrow”, which
focuses on the individual experience of single viewers/participants,
“Integration” addresses itself to the collective. One is reminded
perhaps of a detention camp – one thinks of refugees from northern
Africa, who risk their lives to find a new, better and more democratic
existence in Europe. Or – from another perspective – perhaps the
same refugees, who threaten our economy, our affluence, our values.
It is all a matter of one’s own personal point of view. For are these
refugees really so different than the guest workers from Turkey, Italy
or Greece recruited offensively, that is to say invited, by the Federal
Republic of Germany during the course of its economic development?
How do these two situations (i.e. that of the refugees and that of the
guest workers) stand in relation to the current expansion of the EU
into Eastern Europe – an expansion, which arouses a sense of fear
and caution in many Western Europeans?
Goffer’s construction could also be understood as a kind of prison.
Guantanamo Bay or perhaps even a concentration camp en miniature?
Or does it mark/defend a border? A fence that separates two countries
or cities, as used to be the case in Berlin or as this still exists between
North and South Korea or between Israel and Palestine. Will such
a fence soon be installed in Ukraine, as a kind of preliminary stage
before the complete secession of the pro-Russian eastern territories?
What is going on in Goffer’s installation? Who or what is being
threatened and must thus be protected? Who is the evil one here,
who tries to threaten the viewers or whoever else? Or is the installation
completely and utterly harmless? Playgrounds – especially but
not only in large cities – are often enclosed by fences in order to
protect the children playing there. Perhaps this thing that Amit Goffer
has constructed for us is actually a kind of playground for adults.
What’s going on here? Question upon question – and hardly an
answer in sight. With his installation, Amit Goffer does not present
a site in and of itself, but rather much more a kind of in-between
site, a temporary architecture, which, in principle, could be installed
anywhere and everywhere. Seen in this way, Goffer’s “Integration” is
somehow related to the “Portable War Memorial” created by Edward
Kienholz in the fateful year of 1968. Portable, since war exists everywhere
and at all times, soon perhaps also in (Eastern) Europe. And
where there is conflict, one needs fences and camps to keep out
or detain the evil enemies, or to separate and distinguish ourselves
from the “other”, whoever these may be. And temporary architecture
is ideally suited to this purpose.
What do the viewers/participants feel when confronted with Amit
Goffer’s installation? Threat or protection? Anxiety? In any event, a
high degree of emotionality. More than anything else, the space or
site presented here is a mental space. But it is also a cage – an
interpretation, which is underscored by the sounds that are, in some
cases, reminiscent of animal sounds. Cages are also meant to guard
and protect, but also to confine – it all depends on the respective
situation. A cage in a zoo, for example, protects the visitors from the
wild animals, while a birdcage serves less to protect humans than to
provide a “home” for beautiful birds, while at the same time detaining
them and keeping them from flying away. And what about the
rotating object in the centre of the installation? And the construction
in the corner, which looks like a kind of birdhouse, but could also be
interpreted as a watchtower or elevated perch for hunting. Emitting
from this curious construction is a bluish-white light, which blinks at
apparently irregular intervals. Associations are evoked of the blinking
lights of airplanes in the nocturnal sky or of the rotating beacons
of lighthouses that provide guidance for ships at night. Or is a message
being transmitted in some encrypted form of the Morse code?
Similar lights or flashes can also be discerned on the long, thin,
panoramic painting hanging on the fence near the entrance to the
installation. In all cases, especially today, in our age of ubiquitous
NSA observation, from which not even the German Chancellor and
other international heads of state are exempted, one inevitably also
thinks of surveillance.
Amit Goffer’s works are located somewhere between political art
and social sculpture – for his primary goal is to instigate discussion.
Like Joseph Beuys, who coined the term “social sculpture”, Goffer
places great emphasis on the fact that he is not merely appropriating
images or objects from daily life, but is actually und utterly
involved in the process of artistic creation, in which aesthetics
obviously play a significant, albeit not central role. The inclusion
of one of his dark, enigmatic landscape panorama paintings in the
“Integration” installation is but one case in point, as is the fact that
the sculptural elements within this installation can actually function
as independent sculptures. For in the final analysis, Goffer is not an
activist, but rather a visual artist. This is perhaps also the reason
behind the fact that his politically and socially oriented statements
can never be pinned down to singular events and issues. Goffer’s
works are generally participatory – the reactions and active involvement
of the viewer/participant are thus essential and determining.
They are thus closely related to the early installations of Bruce
Nauman, which are also extremely subtle and go far beyond the
political in order to address the conditio humana in general. Like
Bruce Nauman, Amit Goffer is interested in psychological moments,
during which one is forced to confront one’s own fears and anxieties.
Ecce homo!
Gérard A. Goodrow