“In art, intentions are of little importance” — Pablo Picasso. At the Aspen Institute Summit on Cultural Diplomacy, Rita J. King reflects on the role of technology in art and cultural relations.
Rita J. King at the Museu Picasso in Barcelona.
By Rita J. King
Barcelona, Spain. September 20, 2009
“In art, intentions are of little importance.” Pablo Picasso
The Aspen Institute held a forum in the ancient city of Avilés, Spain last week to discuss Culture & Security from a cultural diplomacy perspective. My collaborator Joshua S. Fouts and I spoke about our project, “Understanding Islam through Virtual Worlds,” which took place across four continents in the physical world and in the virtual world of Second Life.
Second Life allows participants from all over the world an unprecedented opportunity to collaboratively imagine and build environments and identities in which cultural exchanges take place, free from the fetters of fear (whether generated by timidity, the possibility of violence, language barriers or simple lack of contact or motivation to initiate such discussions) that too often accompany sensitive cultural conversations in the physical world.
The same way a building can be designed and constructed virtually before the cornerstone is laid on actual grass, so can a new technique for cultural exchange be developed that promotes transparency and accountability and at the same time removes physical vulnerability.
Nevertheless, this concept is disturbing to many people, largely because the media hasn’t done Second Life any favors by consistently misrepresenting the importance of the platform and also because the entire concept is so new that people simply can’t imagine the value of such interactions, much less the fact that avatars are representations of real people in the physical world and not cartoons capable of destroying the fabric of society. That narrative is beginning to change now.
Many people at the forum were utterly fascinated, hearing about Second Life for the first time, and several have already booked us to discuss plans for proceeding with extremely exciting projects. A couple of people referenced our work (despite the fact that it took place primarily in the physical world and we’d flown thousands of miles to discuss it in person) as an example of digital interactions undermining the richness of personal contact in the physical world, as if every personal interaction is saturated with meaning that results in cultural illumination and progress.
While it isn’t easy for newbies to jump in-world and instantly discover the best of what the local culture has to offer, it’s worth the search. Second Life is filled with collaborative and individual creativity of such a sophisticated and remarkable nature that cultural advances are taking place on a daily basis. Never in the history of humanity have individuals from around the world been able to gather in real time to explore sensitive issues that require sustained philosophical focus without leaving their own physical communities. Never before have people been able to escape the circumstances of birth to form ties based on the essence of self above the telltale signs of class and privilege hierarchy.
As far as the practice of cultural diplomacy goes, we finally have a platform that equalizes all participants by making creativity and innovation the highest aim, and that’s a good thing. That isn’t to say that some people don’t use Second Life for less than progressive purposes, but so do people in the physical world and that doesn’t stop diplomats from practicing. Race, age, gender, ethnicity and extreme physical beauty or disability all cease to matter. Second Life is whatever users make of it.
Major institutions globally have turned the platform into a thriving, environmentally conscious business hub. Visionary educators have created three-dimensional, immersive learning environments. In the third grade, we made dioramas out of shoeboxes to depict the Gobi Desert from brown paper. It was great fun and there is no reason why anyone has to stop doing it just because now, thousands of learning institutions have created information rich mixed-media environments embedded with experiential knowledge for learners of all ages. Thanks to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s work in Second Life, for example, I’ve swum through the ocean from the poles to the equator to see the life it contains and the hazards of global climate change.
One of the major obstacles to right thinking regarding mixed-media, mixed reality environments is the notion that somehow participation in a virtual world isn’t “real.” Today, at the Museu Picasso in Barcelona, I had an epiphany about how to explain why the debate is misguided. Because the Culture & Security forum focused largely on art, including a number of conversations about how digital art (which is no lesser than any other art form), it is appropriate to use this example to explore the meaning of reality in any form of creative expression.
Between August and December 1957, Pablo Picasso created 58 interpretive works based on Velasquez’s painting Las Meninas. At the Museu Picasso, an ingeniously curated exhibit of two monitors on either side of a pane of reflective glass depicts Picasso’s work projected onto various segments of Las Meninas. I watched through projects of all 58 works, or however many were depicted, before stepping into the gallery where the pieces were hung.
Despite the fact that the projections are glorious, they are nowhere near as spectacular as the original pieces, with their brushstrokes that outlasted the hand of the artist. Much like the virtual hajj to Mecca in Second Life, which can’t possibly ever replace the physical experience of millions of hot, hungry physical bodies moving through a space all experiencing the manifestation of their sacred beliefs, the projections of the Velasquez and Picasso works aren’t meant to replace the originals, but simply to yield new perspective.
Beyond that, though, even the original canvases by Picasso aren’t “real.” After all, Picasso was merely interpreting a work by Velasquez. Come to think of it, even Las Meninas isn’t “real,” except in the broadest definition of the term (having a verifiable existence) which also applies to works in Second Life. The argument that no facsimile can ever be as rich as the original undermines the sheer force of creative power that fuels human progress in the form of artistic expression.
Nobody alive today can turn back the clock to be in that room with Velasquez. Our only glimpse comes from the weight of his work, much like the only glimpse I’ve ever had of ancient Mesopotamia (present day Iraq) where writing was invented comes from the work of the Federation of American Scientists who embarked on a collaborative global project in Second Life to rebuild the city based on real archeological data, right down to charred hearths, temples, markets and agricultural zones. Only through documentation can we experience a moment lost to the riptide of history. Arguably, the very act of people posing for the portrait, frozen in place for hours if not weeks on end wearing costumes to begin with is not real. So what? I’m glad they did it anyway, and that instead of debating the merit of interpreting that singular effort, Velasquez and Picasso picked up their brushes and got to work.
Art is an interpretation of the rhythm of human life on a fleetingly colonized planet in a vast, mysterious cosmos of infinite mystery. The relationship between art and the development of culture is such a mysterious one that language is often painfully insufficient in the attempt to describe it. Human bondage does not require physical bars for captivity. Art is the means by which symbolic bars are bent to create opportunities for people to pass through. The central question of cultural diplomacy in many ways is: If humanity is to earnestly attempt to outpace our current path of collective destruction with acts of trailblazing creativity, how can this sacred act, which undermines the underlying conditions that lead to violence, best be accomplished?
“Others talk,” Picasso once said. “I work.”
