Angelus Novus, Paul Klee, 1920
Israel Museum, Jerusalem
The concept of the avant-garde relies on the structuralist premise that in order for something to be cutting-edge, it must be engaged in an oppositional relationship that pits the present condition against that of the past. What is ironic about this dialectic is that the avant-garde, the antithesis, is defined by its proximity, however near or far, to the thesis that is the status quo. The avant-garde’s narrative is indebted to the mantra of historical materialism in that it operates on what Walter Benjamin described as a myth.[1] The belief of historical materialism’s infallibility helps to propel the myth that not only is there “Truth” in the system but that it will always beget “new” things. However in hindsight, those who have engaged with Benjamin’s critique know that Karl Marx’s theory of history is too formulaic and that in all actuality, it does not produce anything new, but rather just permits the past to fester. Therefore, if one is to strive to become truly avant-garde in the sense that he or she is producing work that is unique and unprecedented, he or she must be willing to divorce themselves from the bounds and onus of history. Such an act is akin to turning Angelus Novus, Paul Klee’s painting that Benjamin uses in his eloquent description of how the present condition is not a result of perfect acts of history but rather a cataclysmic accumulation of multiple events,[2] and turning him around, allowing him to take control of his own destiny. It is an act of becoming born again. In doing so, the protagonist is able to work in a situation that is free of the restraints of history and produce in an environment that sincerely encourages new and unparalleled work.
As a discipline, architecture champions historical referentiality. These references may avail themselves in the aesthetic sense where forms draw upon semantic structures that hope to elicit nostalgia (Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown are prime examples of this), whereas others are discoursing in syntactic discussions about formal relationships (Peter Eisenman and Greg Lynn come to mind). While these two branches of linguistically influenced architecture are opposed to one another, they both claim their legitimacy in engagements with the past. In Robert Somol’s essay, “Still Crazy After All These Years,”[3] he speaks of a damning dialectical system between teacher and student (particularly the responses of the students of Colin Rowe and Robert Venturi) and how, respectively, the thesis and antithesis constituents debate back and forth with one another. However, the antithetical partners here derive the core of their arguments from their dialectical opponents, and can only produce the synthesis, which contains trace amounts of both actors. However, what if the antithesis refuses to engage with the thesis? What sort of situation is the outcome?
Currently in discussions regarding contemporary art, there is debate over what sort of obedience artists should concede to the past. For a group of artists and theorists that has become active in the past ten years,[4] they have thrown referentiality and syntax into tumult. No longer does an object have to be read in relation to what was made before it. No longer does an artist need to be under the shadow of previous characters. Architecture can learn from this. If architecture were to disengage from the mantra of dialectical materialism – in other words, not take on the role of the antithesis – the discipline can become truly unique and produce new works and ideas. This should not be mistaken as being avant-garde as this new era operates in its own history. Semantic and syntactical relationships are cast aside as the parts that make the whole are no longer necessary to the discussion. Rather, architecture in this new history operates on systems that draw upon what can make it thrive all the while not being burdened by the collecting detritus of architecture’s past histories. In doing this, architecture is turning Angelus Novus around. He is now facing forward, able to take control of his own destiny. He can now do as he pleases.
[1] cf. Walter Benjamin’s “Theses on the Philosophy of History” in Illuminations, ed. by Hannah Arendt
[2] Walter Benjamin. "Theses on the Philosophy of History." In Illuminations, edited by Hannah Arendt, (New York: Schocken, 1969), 257-258.
[3] Robert Somol, “Still Crazy After All These Years,” In Assemblage, No. 41, (April 2000), 79-92.
[4] cf. the artist Matthew Day Jackson and his 2010 series In Search Of (Peter Blum Gallery), and the theorist Alexander Dumbadze and his 2007 lecture “Fuck It: 24 Preliminary Notes on the Art World, Complicity, and Lost Causes” (delivered at Elizabeth Dee Gallery). Their questioning of the boundaries and implementation of art history into artistic production has yielded thought provoking debates regarding an author’s relationship to the past and how to invert that symbiosis.

