Paul Chan: 2nd Light

In a series of lectures delivered in Zurich in 1997 and published collectively under the title On the Natural History of Destruction, W.G. Sebald recounts the mass bombings of Germany leveled by England’s Royal Air Force toward the end of the Second World War. Over one hundred towns perished during the air raids; around 600,000 civilians lost their lives, and by the end of the war, over seven million were homeless. Droves of shell-shocked nomads became resigned to itinerant life, drifting listlessly from one ravaged site to another, their hushed silence falling on cities already calmed by catastrophe.

Few writers endeavored to document the devastation. Those that did, Sebald notes, often defaulted to trite clichés and platitudes in an effort to render the unprecedented banal, and thus familiar. Among them was Hermann Kasack, whose now-seminal Di Stadt Hinter dem Stromm (or "The City Beyond the River”) Sebald cites as a fictional work in which the author imagines a populace “deprived of [its] purpose” by the air strikes, hawking tattered wares from bombed out storefronts: “Here a few jackets and trousers, belts with silver buckles, ties and brightly colored scarves were laid out, there a collection of shoes and boots of all kinds, often in very poor condition. Elsewhere hangers bore crumpled suits in various sizes, old fashioned rustic smocks and jackets, along with darned stockings, socks and shirts, hats and hairnets, all on sale and jumbled up together." ¹

Humankind is divided and defined by its possessions: We are what we own, more than we would care to admit. We cling to things, projecting our most intimate desires and crippling fears onto objects, arranging them in elaborate tableaux to form material meta-narratives of our lives. In Kasack’s Germany, salvaging the systems of commercial exchange proved a stopgap gesture toward post-war normalcy by allowing refugees to buy back their sense of autonomy — to recoup less tangible losses by settling for “stuff.” While Kasack and his contemporaries attempted to factually convey the destitution suffered by the German people, tidying the detritus of war into a neat checklist of commodities proves an inadequate literary device. Material mythologies such as Kasack’s cannot conjure a comprehensive image of a “world of the ruins,” as Sebald deems post-war Germany — a “reality that in its raw form defies description.” ²

Rich in symbolic imagery often Biblical in bent, Paul Chan’s series of light projections and drawings, The 7 Lights, are prone to allegorical interpretation. First begun in 2005, and exhibited in 2007 at London’s Serpentine Gallery before their U.S. debut at the New Museum in 2008, the series alludes most readily to the creation myth: Each 14 minute projection cycles through a given day, progressing from glorious sunrise to the fire and brimstone of a night that can’t fall soon enough. Chan’s is a world in utter crisis, where all senses — even the force of gravity itself — have gone topsy-turvy. On view at World Class Boxing from Feburary through March the 2nd Light presents a foreboding scene:

A tree sits alone, its shivering branches silhouetted against a colorless sky. Within moments, a few sticks or rods poke up from the bottom edge of the projected field, bobbing rhythmically as their unseen handlers march steadily along. Plunging headfirst from the sky, a limp body crashes through the scene, scattering leaves upon descent; more follow, as objects from below levitate in return. The wind whips and the crowd surges on, advancing urgently, multiplying rapidly, as their poles — or are they spears? – bear ad-hoc flags in the form of castoff clothing and other tattered scraps. Bloated garbage bag balloons blow by. Taut cables flit along like kite strings, or rescue lines dropped from above, towing the occasional banner or bit of tangled debris. But no people in this closely cropped frame: Save for those that tumble down from above, human interaction is relegated off-screen. Looming warmongers, or fleeing civilians? Flood victims? Ethnic cleansing? These refugees have nabbed what they can carry, earthly belongings lashed together in bundles hoisted high above their heads. “S.O.S.!” begs their soundless plea: Save our souls; save our selves; save our stuff. An embarrassment of riches, reduced to rags.

Be it a bombed tower, a broken levee, or an endless war, quantifying disaster — plainly naming its sufferings and spoils, taking stock of what we see and hear – leaves us with a sense of control over the incomprehensible. Broken down and neatly parsed, the aftermath before us offers proof, in no uncertain terms: “This happened. We are still here.” Kasack, and others like him, are credited for breaking Germany’s tacitly agreed-upon silence through vivid accounts of a war-torn society — regardless of how problematic they may be. The 2nd Light ends as darkly and as soundlessly as it began. Chan leaves us alone in the silence to bear witness, armed only with fleeting images and memories — no stuff. The voices we hear are our own.

PAUL CHAN was born in Hong Kong in 1973, raised in Nebraska and lives and works in New York. He received an MFA from Bard College in 2002 and a BFA from the Art Institute of Chicago in 1996. He is represented by Greene Naftali Gallery, New York. Recent solo exhibitions include: New Museum, New York, 2008; Serpentine Gallery, London, 2007; Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam, 2007; Portikus, 2006; Galleria Massimo De Carlo, Milan, 2006; Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston, 2005; UCLA Hammer Museum, Los Angeles, 2005 and The Renaissance Society, 2009 Group exhibitions include: Traces du sacre, Centre Pompidou, Paris, 2008; 16th Biennial of Sydney, Sydney, 2008; 10th International Istanbul Biennial, Istanbul, 2007; Whitney Biennial, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, 2006; Uncertain States of America, Astrup Fearnley Museet for Moderne Kunst, Oslo, 2006; Utopia Station, World Social Forum in Porto Alegre, Brazil, 2005; I Still Believe in Miracles, Musee d’Art moderne de la Ville de Paris, 2005; Greater New York, PS1 Contemporary Art Center, Long Island City, 2005; and New Work/New Acquisitions, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 2005. He will also be participating in the upcoming Venice Biennial curated by Daniel Birbaum.

SARAH HROMACK is Art in America’s Associate Web Editor. She received her MA in Visual and Critical Studies from the California College of the Arts, and writes cultural criticism for online and print publications.

1. Sebald, W.G. “Air War and Literature.” On the natural History of Destructio. New York: Random House. 1999. p 48.

2. Ibid.