Wednesday, 10 October 2018

Day for Night: Landscapes of Walter Benjamin


Recently I flâneured over to the Peltz Gallery at Birkbeck’s School of Arts in Gordon Square, London, to see an exhibition of photographs and two films related to Walter Benjamin (one of which was not running during my visit).  It is designed to be a celebration of his influence plus a sombre memorial to him in the form of a focus on landscapes known to him, particularly his final walk.

Benjamin’s story begins in Berlin, where he was born in 1892, and finishes in Catalonia, where he died.  He left Paris in May 1940 hoping to emigrate to the United States via Portugal, but committed suicide at Portbou in September 1940 when threatened with deportation back to France; an action that would have put him in the hands of the German occupiers, a group of individuals not noted for their kindness to Jewish intellectuals.

Alas for someone whose creativity has been so significant, Day for Night is a small show with small ideas.  The heart of it is a series of photographs of people holding either a large portrait of Benjamin – titled ‘Essential passage’; or placards with quotations from his best-known essay, ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’ (or as it is also more clunkily known, ’The Work of Art in the Age of its Technological Reproducibility’) – titled ‘More than a Sign’.

The placards themselves were included in the exhibition, in what was horribly termed ‘selfie corner’.  Visitors were invited to take said selfies while holding them, to be posted on Instagram.  The fragments were rendered meaningless by being ripped out of context (‘Authority of the object’, ‘Instead of being’, ‘Mode of existence’ etc.), and you don’t have to be a member of the Frankfurt School to suspect that Benjamin would not have been impressed by this particular act of mechanical (in more than one sense) reproduction.  The large portrait held up or carried around was even worse.  By evoking the portraits of dictators carried in processions it suggests a cult of Benjamin.

Screen grab, ‘More than a Sign (film)’

Literalness is taken even further in a set of photographs showing light effects, called ‘Luminosities’, referencing Benjamin’s Illuminations.  A further set, ‘Day for Night’, photographed in Portbou, uses the film technique in which scenes shot during the day mimic night-time by underexposing the image.  The curators make the rather obvious point that day and night can interpenetrate, as Benjamin found in Naples, day unravelling what the night has woven.  The link to Benjamin here is tenuous.

As if inspiration has failed entirely, the exhibition opens out to consider the issue of migration into Europe, equating it to Benjamin’s flight from the Nazis.  A rather nice group of photographs is titled ‘Life in the Shadows’ (hinting at L’Armée des Ombres?).  The caption reads: ‘This series of images focuses on a group of Senegalese migrants and their adopted home of present-day Port de la Selva, a town 14 kilometres from the place of Benjamin’s death.  The camera captures their figures in ambiguous, quasi-ritualistic poses in the empty streets of the off-season.’

Despite the persecution of Christians, and the usual problems women and gays tend to have in a Muslim-majority country, Senegal is not equivalent to Nazi-controlled Europe.  These are more likely to be economic migrants, as the gallery’s publicity concedes, and the comparison to Benjamin’s flight feels inappropriate.  The exhibition concludes with a film, ‘More than a Sign (film)’, tracing that final walk over the Pyrenees, covering 20km from southern France to Portbou.   Unfortunately it involves carrying the portrait of Benjamin, and becomes preposterous (fortunately we are spared the entire 20km).

The idea to celebrate Benjamin’s life and work was praiseworthy, but in practice the results presented here are rather dim.  We may hope for more substantial commemorations in 2020.  Day for Night: Landscapes of Walter Benjamin runs from 21 September to 27 October and is curated by Diego Ferrari and Jean McNeil.  A small book, edited by the curators, accompanies the event.