In the heart of Paris, the Fondation Cartier's exhibition "Ce qui arrive / Unknown Quantity" has generated considerable discourse for its premise – a calculated exploration of industrial and postindustrial accidents. This show, curated by Paul Virilio, seeks to engage with the broader context of societal accidents and their increasing frequency as an inherent aspect of technological progression. However, the exhibition's approach has been called into question for its perceived insensitivity and shallow dealings with profound tragedies, notably the 9/11 attacks.
Despite claiming a high moral ground, the exhibition is critiqued for irresponsibly conflating intentional acts of terror with the unintended consequences of industrial mishaps. It's argued that this categorization does a disservice to the gravity and specificity of each event. By generalizing such distinct occurrences under one banner of 'accidents,' the exhibit faces allegations of trivializing individual and collective suffering for the sake of thematic cohesion.
Central to the controversy is the exhibition's treatment of the 9/11 attacks. The curatorial choice to include Tony Oursler's footage and other visual representations of the tragedy in what is coined the "Museum of Accidents" has been met with indignation. These depictions are accused of reducing a complex, emotionally charged, and multifaceted event to an archetype of romanticized destruction, robbing it of its unique human and historical implications.
The aspiration to utilize the exhibition as a space for learning and ethical reflection appears to falter under scrutiny. Critics argue that instead of helping the audience discern the implications of the showcased accidents, the exhibit indulges in aestheticizing catastrophe, effectively numbing its audience to the intimate reality of such disasters. It adopts a distant perspective that renders its message abstract and detached from the real and visceral experiences of those most affected.
The romantic sublime, a concept with roots in 18th and 19th-century philosophy and aesthetics, paradoxically emerges within the halls of this forward-looking exhibition. By inviting the audience to witness vast displays of calamity from a removed standpoint, the exhibit echoes romanticism's fixation on the grandiose, charging the experience with a sense of detached, ineffable awe rather than actionable awareness or reflection.
While the exhibition's glossy catalogue contends with the writings of contemporary and classical figures on the nature of accidents, the physical manifestation of these ideas within the exhibit space falls short of these texts' intellectual rigor. The catalogue's engagement with theory raises expectations of a nuanced discourse, which the exhibition struggles to meet in its reductionist display and curation.
Framing itself as an antidote to the sensationalism of modern media portrayals of disasters, "Ce qui arrive / Unknown Quantity" ironically embodies this very quality of spectacle it purports to critique. As Virilio himself notes the dangers of spectacle markets, one cannot help but detect the self-defeating irony of how his exhibition seems to perpetuate the phenomena it seeks to dismantle.
Rather than offering a "museum of horrors", which implicates the audience in a cycle of contemplation and prevention of future disasters, the exhibition provokes questions about the ethical line between commemoration and exploitation in art. The show's insistence on grandiose representation over intimate engagement begs a discussion on the role of art in reflecting and responding to real-world events and crises.
In conclusion, the Fondation Cartier's presentation of "Ce qui arrive / Unknown Quantity" struggles to reconcile its ambition with its execution, its theoretical propositions with its practical display. It serves as a reminder that art, when dealing with sensitive themes, carries the responsibility to transcend mere representation, engaging earnestly with the pain, context, and humanity that define the accidents and tragedies of our time.