Exhibitions
Word from the Curator
The Song of Happiness [La
Mélodie du bonheur]
The invitation the Manifestation internationale d'art
de Québec sent my way did not come without its
share of risks. Tackling a subject as uncompromising
happiness is far from obvious, in fact it doesn't even
stand to reason in light of contemporary art's strong
tendency toward criticism, to what some, seeing the
widespread taste for pathos, have even identified as
moroseness — or again, given a general questioning
of common references. Which is nothing yet, if one considers
the planet's less than joyful state of affairs.
The risk of being accused of blindness in the face
of current political and social dilemmas, in other words,
of ignoring the present state of the world, is quite
real. The difficulty is compounded by having to take
into account recent developments in art discourse not
only in Québec, but internationally as well.
The contemporariness of contemporary art has seen a
proliferation of exhibitions on daily life — many
other shows or events have dealt with what is considered
commonplace or light, despite the awkward therapeutic
metaphor this notion suggests: lightness as a kind of
"antidote" to a supposed ambient glumness
in contemporary art. Let us begin then by trying to
define what happiness is. To do so, far be it from us
to indulge in the territory or tone of inspirational
guides such as those put forward by Alain in his Propos
sur le bonheur or again, by the dalaï-lama
in The Art of Happiness. Rather, the Manif
d'art and its theme "Happiness and Pretence"
is an opportunity to showcase various states relating
to happiness - if happiness exists. Today, publicity
is colonizing our concept of happiness, shaping and
recruiting it within an economic model. A perpetually
postponed objective, by definition unattainable, happiness
will supposedly manifest itself when anxiety, insecurity,
anger and discouragement have been vanquished. Happiness
is the focal point of constant longing, the aim of a
never — completed quest, the raison d'être
of a deep need to bridge an ever-looming gap. It is,
as some have said, the satisfaction towards which all
satisfactions tend, complete pleasure without which
all pleasure is incomplete.
Did not sirens, and their melody, promise perpetually
elusive happiness? "Liars when they sing, deceivers
when they sigh, fictive when one touches them,"
as Blanchot phrased it1.
Approaching them, La Mélodie du bonheur2
goes on being heard even if their song is never really
sung; music becoming silence the minute one enters their
realm. And continually, new isles of Nowhere come into
view.
Bernard Lamarche
1. Maurice Blanchot, Le livre à venir,
Gallimard (Folio/Essais), 1998 (1959), p. 11.
2. The French title of the film The Sound of Music.
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