Published in 2008 by Kadist Art Foundation, Paris

Below is an excerpt from the book; scroll below for list of contents and book specs.

Chapter 3. The Empty Canvas

We had a French interpreter attend our meeting. He translated her French to English, and my English to French. He also moderated, and explained. Possibly some ideas were lost along the way of interpretation. Some others were surely added.

–Madame Volta, I thought that you could guide me in locating the mythical 84 identical handkerchiefs of Erik Satie. I thought maybe they were here, at the Archives Erik Satie. Or, if elsewhere, that you may know the trail that will reveal them. I would like to include them in an exhibition that I am tentatively titling Disenchantments.

–Where did you read that they existed? Because, as you say, they’re only mythical. The handkerchiefs were never found. And I don’t believe they ever existed.

Embarrassed, perplexed, I could barely answer.

–Oh, I read it.

–Ah, well. Tell me about the exhibition. I may have another idea for you.

–I am exploring “disenchantment” as the tactical break of a spell—a non-deliberate and emotionally violent form of awakening. This is considering that enchantment precedes the spell, and that as such it is something like a postponement to reality or a suspension of truth.

She remained quiet. I was not sure if she was bored or confused by my explanation or overwhelmed at the speed of my babble, or all of these feelings simultaneously. Our translator translated as I worried about this. When he finished, he glanced at me as a sign to proceed. And as if the green of his eyes were the go of a traffic light, I continued my explanation with the same tripping haste.

–I just want to make sure that I am not exactly talking about illusion; that is, when I talk about a spell and what not. Anyway, I am approaching disenchantment as a shift from individuality toward commonality. While in enchantment the status of exception and originality are enjoyed, in disenchantment the copy and the double are encountered.

She was still quiet. I tried to summarize.

–It’s a proposition to feel conceptualism, rather than just understand it as an idea.

–But why Satie?

–Aside from the inclusion of artworks by living artists, I am including artifacts and objects that have inspired the curatorial process. This is where Satie comes in. He used to live in the neighborhood, in the vicinity of Kadist, where the exhibition takes place. And I had thought that drawing on the local context—architectural, historical, etcetera—could make the exhibition more meaningful to people in town. If not, at least it could produce new narratives, and in the worse of scenarios it could simply engage a different public. Anyway, that plan hasn’t worked that well. I guess it’s because the idea in principal needs more elaboration.

–And how would the Satie handkerchiefs fit into this?

–Well, supposedly they were given to him as birthday gifts, each one, at his suggestion. I like what this says about never being able to fully possess something. I also think that the sheer number involved addresses consistency, repetition and serialization as a fascination rather than solely as systems or procedures. Ideally, this is also in tune with the sensibility of the exhibition. Have I mentioned Boredom?

–No.

–It’s a novel by Alberto Moravia, and an influential text in the research process. In the novel, the main character is a painter, a born aristocrat who has everything but longs for the one thing he is unable to possess: an understanding of his lover. He is unable to truly grasp his one fascination, so to say. I like the tension this scenario sets up between possession and comprehension, between knowing and having. Anyway, I also like that Satie signs Sports et divertissements with a statement that says something like this: “I have put here everything I know about boredom.”

–Perhaps I should bring that music partition out from the archives so that you can see it.

She brings me a box full of music partitions. While we look at them, we discuss the writing of Satie and the design of the pages. They are unconventionally wrought, and clearly thought of as works in and of themselves. She also brings me a small box filled with miniature ink drawings that render a variety of things—an aerial view of a racecar, a profile of what seems to be a train. They are drawn on paper the size of business cards, and were found in a cigar box in Satie’s apartment.

I continued the conversation.

–You said you had an idea?

–Well, more of a suggestion. When you asked for the 84 handkerchiefs to include in the exhibition, I thought you could consider instead the 840 copies of Vexations that the artist Rober Racine made when he performed that piece in Canada. Maybe you want to include that instead?

–When was this?

–In 1979. Maybe 1980. You’ll have to find out from him. Let me get his details for you from my address book.

She hadn’t been in touch with Rober since his performance in Canada.

***

BOOK DETAILS

84 handkerchiefs, an umbrella and some books
Text by Sofía Hernández Chong Cuy, with images by Alejandro Cesarco, Luca Frei, Bethan Huws, Fabio Kacero, Rober Racine, Lisa Tan and others.

Published in 2008 by Kadist Art Foundation, Paris, France
Xerox, stapled; Size A4; 32 pages plus cover and 1 insert
Edition of 200

French version of the text available; translation from the English by Emilie Villez and Sandra Terdjman. Edited by Quinn Latimer.