Geta Brătescu, Mircea Cantor, Alexandra Croitoru, Ion Grigorescu, Cristi Pogăcean, and Arnulf Rainer: In Their Own Image, PLASTIC, Cluj-Napoca, 19.09–10.11.2024

Abstract

Are you or are you not part of a specific circle? This is the first question the show poses when you enter the space, and your eyes fall on Mircea Cantor’s 2006 photograph of a pile of white porcelain urinals heaped against an ordinary, industrial-looking fence. Do you get the reference? When it comes to contemporary art, ceci n’est pas seulement un urinoir. Seemingly discarded, they mirror the fate of Duchamp’s original submission of the Fountain (1917), which was treated as a crude joke and unceremoniously thrown out. At the same time, PLASTIC addresses a circle within a circle—if you are familiar with the history of contemporary art in Cluj, then you’ll register the gallery’s location on Einstein Street as a return of the slightly older kids on the old block, and In Their Own Image, in particular, feels like a door left open, through which you can overhear a long-standing conver­sation between palls. The works belong to the Mircea Pinte collection (an outstandingly rare treat); they were chosen by Norbert Costin (this might explain the predilection for photography) and Ciprian Mureșan (whose most recent curatorial project involved showcasing Șerban Savu’s works at the Venice Biennale); the accompanying gallery text is shaped like a dialogue between the two. It all reads very IYKYK (in social media speak), as it all ties back to Cluj’s claim to international art scene fame—the Plan B Generation / the School of Cluj, both shifting and currently imperfect labels, but still holders of meaning. I am biased and thus unsure of how snobbish and hermetic this looks to a complete outsider, but the text itself is at least moderately accessible. On the ground floor of a new building, the space is a respectable white cube, its crisp, uncluttered elegance suits the works well, and their display is clearly thought out. The reciprocal hanging of Ion Grigorescu’s The Neck: Self Portrait with Tutankhamun (1975) and Arnulf Rainer’s work stands out as particularly soothing. Both can be classified as interventions on photography – in Grigorescu’s case, it falls within his expressionist exploration of his own body, narcissistic and self-mythologizing – here his throat is exposed and superimposed with the famous princely image of King Tut’s gold and lapis lazuli mask. In the work titled Charles Augustin Saint-Beuve (1978), Rainer’s ink gestures overwrite the French critic’s portrait as an organic network. Essentially, we have two death masks facing each other in two mystical interpretations: the throat chakra is associated with self-expression, while the creative intrusion of an apparent doodle brings a further macabre quality to the disembodied head. In the first work, the dead, the historical is placed on top of the living, imbuing it with legitimacy, while in the second, the dead, the old is overcome by the new, by the lively, flowy lines. Thus, in the various tones of grey of the two pictures, there lies a whole narrative of acknowledging mortality and fighting it through art.