By Stefanie Tham
#6. More often than not, ambiguity—as seen in images, objects, or situations—prompt a certain lack. We tend to disregard its utility. Perhaps another way of thinking about the ambiguous are the potentials it may accommodate; to regard ambiguity not simply as something opposed to clarity, but to consider its indistinct form(s) as ways to locate a set of meanings within the work or exhibition. Explore the usefulness of ambiguity. (6 Modules)
The
first time I read the module, I remembered how a friend once impassionedly
exclaimed that he could not tolerate ambiguity. “It’s a waste of time and says
nothing,” he said. I suppose by that he meant that because it yields no clear
answers, he found it rather fruitless to even engage with ambiguity. Such a
perspective towards the topic at hand is not surprising. Ambiguity eludes
certainty; it is the ‘gray area’ that leads to frustration among those who
prefer things to be less confusing and more conclusive. It means that the
entity in question has more than one interpretation, or “a self-contradictory
essence; or simultaneously being and not being a particular thing”.[1] And some people prefer to be given answers than to be stuck in the chaos
of ambiguity.
But
it appears to be good practice as curators to create exhibition sites that are
open-ended to allow room for personal interpretations. Clementine Deliss, a
curator, describes exhibitions as “ambivalent spaces” with the ability to
“evoke passionate subjective responses” through its presentation.[2]
Likewise, Robert Storr posits:
A
good exhibition is never the last word on its subject. Instead it should be an
intelligently conceived and scrupulously realised interpretation of the works
selected, one which acknowledges by its organisation and installation that even
the material on view—not to mention those things which might have been included
but were not—may be seen from a variety of perspectives, and that this will
sooner or later happen to the benefit of other possible understandings of the
art in question.[3]
This
support for more dynamic displays can be seen as part of the shift away from
the outdated and problematic idea of a universal narrative that is taken as
authoritative truth in this present postmodern culture.[4] In
the zeitgeist of postmodernism, the grand narrative had gave way to plurality
and opened new spaces of enquiry. As such, the idea of a museum holding
normative power was conceptually challenged by the limitations of display “as
the gap between material and interpretation widened during this century”.[5] Curators
and audiences have grown more aware of didacticism in museums, which
essentialised or imposed meanings onto its objects, and therefore can no longer
be regarded as the neutral and objective space it was once perceived to be.[6] To
use Iwona Blazwick’s words, “the exhibition space, be it museum or laboratory,
can no longer be understood as neutral, natural, or universal but rather as
thoroughly prescribed by the psychodynamics of politics, economics, geography,
and subjectivity”.[7] Consequently,
institutions began exploring the varied meanings in a work through new
curatorial models that were often inherently self-conscious of its conceptual
limits. The exhibitions of today are far more self-reflexive and ambiguous than
in the past.[8]
Being ambiguous certainly has its usefulness.
Ambiguity only “says nothing” if one does not accept the invitation to make sense
of it. It is a space that allows different views to interact,
and transforms what would otherwise be a presentation into a conversation. In
an exhibition, it prompts the audience to explore, analyse and critique what is
being shown, and therefore allows the show to become a “playful, episodic
encounter with phenomena” that is nuanced and open to mystery.[9] Storr and
Deliss’s statements reiterate this notion. They suggest that in the ambiguous
space of an exhibition, new ideas and viewpoints can develop to enhance one’s
understanding of the work in view. By inviting multiple interpretations,
ambiguity forms a fertile ground for creativity and discussion. As such,
ambiguity does not necessarily mean that something lacks clarity—perhaps one
can find clarity in the process of refining their thoughts through the
dialectic negotiation of ideas. And through this, the exhibition can be
interrogated from new angles which could lead to insights that shed light on
old narratives.
Ambiguity
also sees a shift in the position of the viewer. The show is able to meet the
viewer at his level and engage him in a two-way dialogue, creating an exchange
where “the visitor has progressed to being at the centre of the intellectual
construct that is the [exhibition]”.[10]
However,
having the potential does not mean that it will be actualised. When does
ambiguity cross the line from being useful to “a waste of time”? In the
enthusiasm to explicate ambiguities, an exhibition can inadvertently end up
confounding its audience instead. An exhibition can be ambiguous for
ambiguity’s sake, dwelling contentedly on the fact that there can be many
interpretations but fail to constructively engage and acquaint the audience
with the objects on display. It is perhaps too easy to use ambiguity as an
excuse for poor curating. That exhibitions run the risk of distorting reality
to an extent where it is no longer relevant to its original intention also
diminishes the usefulness of ambiguity.[11] Furthermore,
ambiguity may not easily find its place in state museums that have an educating
agenda; however “astute and insightful”, its narrative “often remains in the
realm of the purely subjective and speculative”.[12] In
such cases, ambiguity can end up frustrating the viewer instead of enriching
his encounter with the work. In these circumstances, perhaps the claim that
ambiguity prompts a certain lack does ring true.
As
budding curators, we were often advised to ensure that our exhibitions were
open-ended and without agenda; rather, the viewer should determine for himself
his thoughts and views on the works, and curators were there to show the viewer
around but refrain from telling him how he should see them. With this in view,
in the process of brainstorming our exhibition, we had to keep checking
ourselves to avoid pushing an agenda, however subconsciously so. But being
painfully aware of needing the show to be open-ended, we often become confused
about what can the curator say, if at all? Where is the curator’s voice and
what are the boundaries of his authority? Does commenting on (and thus
representing) the object necessarily mean it overwrites the potentiality for
interpretation? There is something uncomfortable about simply displaying works
of art without drawing upon a vision to undergird the exhibition.
Perhaps,
then, since we should not seek to give answers, why not ask questions—to turn
the space into a site for discourse, enquiry and encounter by setting the stage
for meaning making. In other words, the curator has to be firm with what he is
asking, and provide the cues for the audience to read and plug into the
discussion. I am learning that this is when the curatorial strategies employed
to negotiate the ambiguities in an exhibition is crucial, and this is also
where the challenge lies. The exhibition narrative has to be crafted with great
sensitivity, at once aware of itself, the works and the audience. There should
be a sense of authority to why the curator chooses to display objects as such,
but also ambiguity in how the audience can read them. Above all, the curator has
to ensure that his audience can take delight in the ambiguous; too much
ambiguity makes the show confusing, but over-instructing the audience on how to
approach a work comes off as being didactic. Navigating between the two is the
curator’s game.
In
theory, the usefulness of ambiguity should be put to good effect in
exhibitions; in practice, this requires exercising curatorial techniques and
strategies to effectively invite the audience to engage in discourse. Ambiguity
is a storehouse of potential. From a state of uncertainty springs forth endless
possibilities and opportunities. Ambiguity does not constraint the viewer’s
responses, but it is precisely the fact that it is a fluid and boundless space
that makes it potentially confusing and unsatisfying. If not conveyed
successfully, the audience can end up being stuck in the frustrating chaos of
ambiguity, and leaving with a negative experience of a non-encounter.
Bibliography
Blazwick, Iwona. “Temple /
White Cube / Laboratory.” In What Makes A
Great Exhibition?, ed. Paula Marincola, pp. 118-133. Philadelphia:
Philadelphia Exhibitions Initiative, 2006.
Deliss, Clementine.
“Explore or Educate?” In Curating
Subjects, ed. Paul O’Neill, pp. 86-91. London: Open Editions, 2011.
Peckham, George W. “The
Existence of Ambiguity”, The Journal of
Philosophy 23, no. 18 (2 September 1926): p. 477-500.
Schubert, Karsten. The Curator’s Egg. London: One-Off
Press, 2000.
Storr, Robert. “Show and
Tell.” In What Makes A Great Exhibition?,
ed. Paula Marincola, pp. 14-31. Philadelphia: Philadelphia Exhibitions
Initiative, 2006.
[1]
George W. Peckham, “The Existence of Ambiguity”, The Journal of Philosophy 23, no. 18 (2 September 1926): p. 483.
[2] Clementine Deliss, “Explore or
Educate?”, in Curating Subjects, ed.
Paul O’Neill (London: Open Editions, 2011), p. 87.
[3] Robert Storr, “Show and Tell”, in What Makes A Great Exhibition?, ed.
Paula Marincola (Philadelphia: Philadelphia Exhibitions Initiative, 2006), p.
14.
[4] Karsten Schubert, The Curator’s Egg (London: One-Off
Press, 2000), p. 134.
[5] Ibid, p. 134.
[6] Ibid, p. 144.
[7] Iwona Blazwick, “Temple / White Cube
/ Laboratory”, in What Makes A Great
Exhibition?, ed. Paula Marincola (Philadelphia: Philadelphia Exhibitions
Initiative, 2006), p. 118.
[8] Schubert, pp. 144-145.
[9] Deliss, p. 87.
[10] Schubert, p. 144.
[11] Ibid, p. 144.
[12] Ibid, p. 136.
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