— Sanneke Huisman
Sefer Memişoğlu, 5 April — 6 June 2023
Light is everywhere; it surrounds us. But how can we see light if we cannot see without light? A poetic and philosophical approach to an omnipresent phenomenon is central to Sefer Memişoğlu’s solo exhibition curated by Sanneke Huisman at Depo İstanbul, after its first presentation at Bradwolff Projects in Amsterdam.
The title of the exhibition is derived from the essay of the same name by Italo Calvino; in The Eye’s Ray, the Italian writer and journalist describes the eye as the basis of the human brain and therefore of human thinking and acting. Calvino goes back to the origin of scientific thinking about the eye, which is remarkably inventive. Early scientists claimed that the act of seeing was performed by luminous arrows coming from the brain; they described light as a spiritual force that actively illuminated the outside world.
Using these and other possible interpretations as a starting point, Memişoğlu presents an overview of his work on this subject matter over the last few years. Calvino’s visual analysis of sight and light is reminiscent of cinema and photography techniques, allowing light rays to create a print or an illuminated illusion in time. Black and white photography and cinema are preceded by paintings full of light-dark contrast, chiaroscuro, or rock paintings created by firelight. In line with Memişoğlu’s fascination with art history, the myth of Prometheus is also an important source of inspiration for his work. This Titan from Greek mythology descended into a darkened world to bring fire to humanity. Prometheus taught man how to make steel, thus making it possible for civilization to be born. However, fire also brought the possibility of destruction. The resulting civilization that was created from this was also immediately endangered. Where there is light there is darkness too.
The works in The Eye’s Ray hark back to these great stories, but at the same time create a new visual language. Within works in a variety of mediums, ranging from video to drawing and sculpture, light returns as a leading theme. The works in this exhibition appear as expressive and mysterious fragments from an unknown story. It is up to the viewer to let the light shine.
Vision and sight are central in “The Eye’s Ray” by the Italian novelist and essayist Italo Calvino. In this text, he goes back to early scientific theories. For early scientists, vision was both a mental and physical process. According to them, sight started inside the brain and came out of the eyes as beams of light. This illuminating power can nowadays be found in cinema and photography, like the beamers in this exhibition that are beaming light until they find a surface that can make the light concrete - and thus can make something visible. In line with Calvino’s essay, Sefer Memişoğlu’s exhibition “The Eye’s Ray” shows different views on light, sight and the illuminating gaze.
Have for instance a look at portrait of the French philosopher Guy Debord. As the founder of the Situationists, he is most well-known for his book, “The Society of the Spectacle”, an example of Marxist critical theory published in 1967. On this drawing by Memişoğlu, Debord looks at us frontally, as if he is illuminating the spectator to see who is in front of him. Despite the very realistic representation, the drawing has an elusive quality. The face is depicted as a frozen mask; the gaze is somewhat absent. Memişoğlu compiled and combined many photographs of Debord to serve as the model for this drawing. The presented subject is thus not taken from reality, but is a representation of a photographic reality. Debord is transformed into a layered mask, looking at all the artists or photographers that were once in front of him. He is looking at these people, who want to capture his images and his gaze, hiding behind a camera or paper. The drawing of Debord is one of a man looking at so many, that we don’t see him anymore. In “The Society of the Spectacle”, Debord warned us for an overload of the spectacle. We here see a demonstration of what this causes: a permanent state of alienation.
This brings us to another important figure in this exhibition: Medusa. The beams of light that comes out of her eyes don’t only enable her to see, it is a gaze that can turn anyone into stone: the darkest light is spread from the eyes of Medusa. But if Medusa encounters her own gaze, all that is left is darkness. So, where there is light, there is darkness too. Too much light can eventually bring darkness. But don’t be afraid that this will be a merely dark exhibition. “The Eye’s Ray” doesn’t plead for darkness nor light, it mostly shows how much one can’t exist without the other. The trick is not to be scared of the dark, but embrace the beauty of the interplay between light and shadow.
Sanneke Huisman (1985) studied art history and works as a critic and curator. The layered method and the (art) historical consciousness in Memişoğlu’s work speak to her. She lives and works in Amsterdam.
— Rik Peters
On the first day of creation, God created light, and saw that it was good. He divided the light from the darkness, and he called the light ‘day’ and the darkness ‘night.’ In paradise, humans were not yet able to tell good apart from evil, but as soon as Adam and Eve had eaten the forbidden fruit, they realized that if light is good, and the opposite of light is darkness, then darkness is evil. The descendents of Adam and Eve repeated these formulas throughout the night, while staring at the fire, generation upon generation.
The Greeks told a different story about light and darkness. Before there were gods, there was Chaos. From Chaos came Earth, the Underworld and Eros. Chaos produced Darkness and Night, brother and sister – the second generation. Darkness and Night made love, and their incest produced Day – for the first time in the history of the cosmos, there was light. The laws of genetics were the same as they are today: Day resembled both her father and mother, a perfect mixture of Darkness and Night, just like her siblings, Doom, Fate, Death, Sleep, Dream, Disgrace and Misery.
In Greek mythology, light is not the enemy, but the offspring of Darkness. Darkness sends light into the world to multiply itself. Light is darkness in motion. When Prometheus stole the fire of the gods, he brought suffering to mankind. That was no coincidence: he who brings light, also brings destruction and darkness. From the eye of Medusa (a distant cousin of Day) the darkest light spreads: anyone who looks into this light is petrified. But if that light returns from whence it came – if Medusa catches the reflection of her own eyes – nothing but darkness remains. Light is darkness in motion: when it is brought to a standstill, only darkness remains.
We are caught between the God of Eden and the gods of Hesiod. Even at night we tell ourselves that light is good and darkness bad, but we are also aware that light and darkness are not enemies – they work together. Darkness only becomes visible in the presence of light: it can only be seen if there is contrast, and therefore shadow. Rembrandt and Caravaggio, as painters of darkness, were also painters of light. Their technique is chiaroscuro, the amplification of contrast between dark and light.
A successful chiaroscuro is not just a contrast, but a delicate balance between light and dark – not a fifty-fifty split, but a subtle interplay that allows the darks to be truly dark, and the lights truly light. In a failed chiaroscuro, one of these factors overshadows the other: too much light, and the darkness is lost, and with that, light itself; too much darkness, and the light disappears, and with that, darkness itself. In the works of Malevich, we no longer speak of ‘light’ and ‘darkness’, but only of colors: white, black, red. This is not simply due to their abstraction. Mark Rothko, for instance, created a number of successful chiaroscuros with abstract shapes. It is due to Malevich’ lack of compromise: his lighter and darker colors remain two separate worlds, precluding true light and dark. In Rothko’s works, there is communication between them; light emerges from darkness and vice versa. Malevich follows Genesis; Rothko follows Hesiod.
In chiaroscuro too, light is darkness in motion: an excess of darkness means a lack of movement; an excess of light means a lack of tranquility. At its edges, this spectrum folds back to the other side: pure darkness is the same as pure light. Is there a difference between finding oneself in complete darkness and being blinded by pure, bright light? In reality, the choice between light and darkness is not a matter of either/or; our entire world is chiaroscuro.
Light emitted by screens that enters our eyes all day long disturbs our circadian rhythm; images of light, emitted by black screens in dark living rooms, form the chiaroscuro of everyday life. In 1967, French philosopher Guy Debord declared us ‘the society of the spectacle.’ This essentially means that the chiaroscuro of our world has tipped the scale to the side of light: our society has been unbalanced by an excess of visibility, by an emphasis on image, by a fascination with visuals and neon lights. Here, the mythology works against us: ‘And God saw the light, and it was good’ (Genesis 1:4) offers no support for a humanity that feels unhinged by the constant bombardment of light.
Beyond light and darkness also means beyond good and evil. A child burning ants with a magnifying glass. The light flash of a bombing at an Afghan wedding. The red laser on a sniper rifle. The bright flashes of scandal-seeking paparazzi. Even the spectacle of a nuclear explosion is not only a chiaroscuro of blinding light and darkening clouds, but also a moral chiaroscuro: a terrible destruction one cannot look away from. Despite our conviction that light is good and darkness evil, in reality light is often a gray area, where good and evil meet, get muddled, and reinforce one another.
The single-minded association of light and good, and dark and evil – our Biblical legacy – was secularized in the eighteenth-century Enlightenment. It was no longer God separating light from dark and seeing that it was good, but human reason. Progress is light, inertia is darkness; technology is light, physical labor is darkness; Europe is light, savagery is darkness. This appears to be a new mythology, but is in fact the same concept that has held mankind in its grip since Genesis: light is good, darkness is evil, and the two are strictly separated.
Those who really want to create a new mythology of light and darkness, should look beyond the Bible – back to Hesiod, for instance. The works of certain artists and philosophers offer a glimpse of this new mythology. So far they are just side views, pencil sketches and draft drawings, but they suggest the possibility of another world, where darkness is no more threatening than fire, where enlightenment means both progress and destruction, where light is the daughter of darkness – a world of chiaroscuro.
Rik Peters (1989) is a philosopher. He studied philosophy and classical languages in Amsterdam (UvA and VU University) and Venice (Ca'Foscari). He lives and works in Chicago, United States.
The Eye's Ray contains nine drawing based works in a fragmented structure. These works have two dimensions: The first one is the concept of haptic vision. It is referring to the choreographic performance between the eye and the hand and its material outcome through the charcoal; the artist's hand holding a mechanical pencil to draw. The reason for using a mechanical pencil is to make every scratch on paper as thin as possible. To create harmonious tones in light and shadow, many layers are required before the forms are saturated. On the surface of the final work, the vibration of the endlessly scratching hand of the artist propelled by the eye resonates with the gaze of viewer. Here, the ordeal of the laboring hand under the order of the eye then gets its metamorphosis into the visual dimension which is a resonating a giant grey scale between black and white. This materialization in black within the light, based on millions of scratches like recorded arrows on the blank paper through the hits of the mechanical pencil. This becomes a metaphor for the historical depiction of Calvino about the mechanics of the eye; illuminating the outside world through the rays coming from the eye of mind. This choreographic intentness becomes a performative action which is linked to the ordeal of the intellectual who has a passion to change the world, the life of humankind for the better, depicted best in the story of the Prometheus which is one of the layer in Non Serviam!, the two channel filmic work in content of The Eye’s Ray.
The second dimension is that the result of the laboring artist hand presents a fragmented imagery; 'The Head', 'The Hand', 'The Torso', 'The Feet' (also the sculptures 'The head of Medusa' and the fist ('MacGuffin') have this fragmented feature) form a series within the nine drawings. They depict fragmented body parts echoing ancient sculptures like the head of an emperor without the body, a hand of a soldier without torso, a torso without the hand and the head or the feet without the rest of everything. These remains are disintegrated, delinked from the scope they were created in and in the present they exist as inactive fragments, ghosts from a decomposed time and space on the verge of disappearing. This fortune is expected also for art works created in these times we live in. In its journey towards the future from the present, an art work will be disconnected from its context. Context forms and crystallises the art work. This transformation from being functional towards idleness is a story based on the struggle resisting time that motivates the artist, a drive to attain timelessness, immortality.
Fragmentation can be seen as one of the concepts of the project as well as a formalist approach in the entire structure of the project. It has two main elements within The Eye's Ray. The first is the dynamic between a holistic view and fragmentism. The holistic view considers the macro; the big picture, the truth can be understood only by looking at the whole of all components. Fragmentism considers the micro, it focusses one by one on the fragmented pieces of the whole. Each fragmented piece has an autonomous reality of life that can not be understood within the body of the whole. The world consists of individual and independent objects. Following this idea you can only understand the world by studying these component parts and the truth is a collection of fragments, substantiated facts that knowledge consists of. Scratches are the micro elements of fragmenting. From micro to macro, fragments form figures, an obscure narration to form the body of works called 'The Head', 'The Hand', 'The Torso', 'The Feet’.
Scratching the surface with the mechanical pencil requires many layers to incarnate the mind’s vision. This layering on the surface is creating an intensity that becomes a super-optical element as well as coming closer to the idea of being a sculpture. The petrifying gaze of the laboring artist works here in a parallel way with the head of Medusa. His gaze propelling his hand and the projected mind obtained on the surface through the artists hand. This action is described as resisting time by Deleuze. In the text ’What is the act of creation’, Deleuze was saying that the act of resisting has two faces; it is humanitarian and at the same time an art movement (or action). Only the act of resisting withstands against death, it doesn’t matter if it is in the form of human fight or in the form of an art work. To make a connection between human fight and the art work he applies a saying by Paul Klee: ’We really miss the folks that do not exist yet'. That means, the primer intimacy between yet non-existent folks and the art work is not truly definite and will never be definite. In spite of that, there is no art work that doesn’t call out to yet non-existent folks. So that the artist’s eyes while scratching stares at the same horizon of the sunset as The laugh of the Medusa, to obtain its utopian promise within active inactivity, within being disconnected, within disinterest, within idleness
MacGuffin is another hyper-realistic sculpture closely linked to The Laugh of the Medusa. It is a fist moving up and down, linked to the laboring hand. Under the control of gaze, the scratching laboring hand forms coal material on the surface of archival paper, resulting in all the figures of the drawing based works. So it is in relation with the rest of the drawings, especially with Love and Hate and also the sculpture Gravity. The MacGuffin is a cinematographic term; an object or device in a film or a book which serves merely as a trigger for the plot, motivating the character to act. It is not important for the viewers, but very important for the character of the story. Without MacGuffin, there would not be a story. MacGuffin within The Eye’s Ray, is a cast of my own right hand, a fist. It is sticking out through the wall of the white cube. Through a mechanical system behind the wall attached to MacGuffin, the hand receives seismographic data from the earth. Through the data the hand is shaking up and down in a way that is related to scratching with the mechanical pencil on the archival paper. Like the object of the MacGuffin in a story, we don't know what the artists hand is holding in its fist. It is intentionally obscure. The fisted hand suggests a blind eye; it doesn't show or signal anything, it is totally introverted and disconnected. Hate and Love appear as batteries integrated within all works in the exhibition space. In opposite positions like up and down, love and hate, overlapping the vibrating movement of MacGuffin through the seismographic underground movement; the end of the earth, the house of darkness where the Medusa lives. It is where the source of ‘charcoal’ as an energy source lies and what the batteries contain as well. The fisted figure of MacGuffin also echos with the fist symbol of the struggle of labor power.
In Greek mythology Medusa is a monster that belongs to the underworld of darkness. Only beheading kills her, but even then her eyes turn gazers into stone. Freud analyzed this figure in his book ‘Medusa’s Head’. For him Medusa provides the image of castration. Another interpretation of the story is that it is about killing and rape resulting from an invasion, a disaster. The traumatized population can not talk about what really happened, the truth causes such unbearable pain that it becomes tabu. Much later the horrendous events of the past are expressed through the embodiment of the Medusa figure in the cultural life of the population. The snakes refer to male sexual organs, her hair represents the pubic female hair and the beheaded head symbolizes the murderous invasion and decapitation. Her petrifying gaze is the impossibility to face the horrible truth. Being turned into stone can be about losing your faith, not feeling anything, anesthesia, facing the truth turns you to darkness. This nihilism and concept of disasters are very much present within our times. The Medusa figure becomes a perfect key stone for The Eye’s Ray. First of all The Laugh of The Medusa is very much in playful relation with the drawing based works. It relates to the concept of haptic vision where the eye and the hand are in coordination to ‘illuminate’ the outside world. The gazing of the artist at the paper in coordination with sensorimotor performative action of the laboring hand is actually also a kind of petrification. As the gaze of Medusa turns the one who looks at her into stone, the mental image is captured in solid form with the mechanical pencil on paper. Another theme is that of facing the truth; within the myth of Medusa, it is located on the face of Medusa, particularly at her eyes. When you dare to gaze at them, they turn you into stone. The artist or intellectual also keeps her/his gaze at the truth. The Medusa head is an embodiment of truth, keeping your gaze on it is facing the senselessness of life and all other unbearable facts of it. Thats makes you melancholic or depressed or oppositely you become immune to all grim things happening in reality and you don’t feel anything anymore. That is being petrified, turning in to stone. The title The laugh of The Medusa is also the title of the manifest by Helene Cixous. She follows an anti-dualist, anti-patriarchial line of ideas. Cixous keeps distant to Freud and Lacan because she says they condemned women to the idea of fallocentrism, where women are lacking. In contrast, she argues about the possibility of dual gender. Click to read the text
Scratching the surface with the mechanical pencil requires many layers to incarnate the mind’s vision. This layering on the surface is creating an intensity that becomes a super-optical element as well as coming closer to the idea of being a sculpture. The petrifying gaze of the laboring artist works here in a parallel way with the head of Medusa. His gaze propelling his hand and the projected mind obtained on the surface through the artists hand. This action is described as resisting time by Deleuze. In the text ’What is the act of creation’, Deleuze was saying that the act of resisting has two faces; it is humanitarian and at the same time an art movement (or action). Only the act of resisting withstands against death, it doesn’t matter if it is in the form of human fight or in the form of an art work. To make a connection between human fight and the art work he applies a saying by Paul Klee: ’We really miss the folks that do not exist yet'. That means, the primer intimacy between yet non-existent folks and the art work is not truly definite and will never be definite. In spite of that, there is no art work that doesn’t call out to yet non-existent folks. So that the artist’s eyes while scratching stares at the same horizon of the sunset as The laugh of the Medusa, to obtain its utopian promise within active inactivity, within being disconnected, within disinterest, within idleness.