MARCIUS GALAN

In that Empire, the Art of Cartography attained such

Perfection that the map of a single Province occupied

the entirety of a City, and the map of the Empire, the

entirety of a Province. In time, those Unconscionable

Maps no longer satisfied, and the Cartographers Guilds

struck a Map of the Empire whose size was that of

the Empire, and which coincided point for point with it.

from On Exactitude in Science—Jorge Luis Borges (2)

 

In the short story On Exactitude in Science, Jorge Luis Borges narrates the tale of an empire so obsessed with the precision of maps that its cartographers end up creating a map of the empire that has a scale of 1 :1. Borges’ extremely succinct but powerful account of how cartography becomes completely useless when taken to the utmost degree of literality seems to be a fitting entry point to the work of Marcius Galan. Throughout his career the artist has repeatedly appropriated and somehow short-circuited the logic pertaining to different scientific disciplines, making this the guiding principle of smaller objects and works on paper to larger sculptures and installations.

Ponto em Escala Real (Point in Full Scale) (2009), a work commissioned by the 29th São Paulo Biennial, is a case in point, as it references the logic of two scientific disciplines : cartography and geometry. Starting with the image of a point on a map with a scale of 1 :130,000, Galan identified the potential gap that emerges when bringing together a geometrical notion—the point, defined as having no volume, area or length—and a cartographic system, based above all on concepts of area, projection and scale. He then set out to calculate what the actual mass of this point would be in the physical world according to the scale of this particular map, an operation that produced a colossal circle with an impressive radius of 130 metres. In his installation, Galan reproduced only a small section of what would correspond to the full-scale point, a 30-metre-square concrete base painted in black that seemed to have risen from the concrete floor of the Biennial pavilion. Of course, because lines and points are not supposed to represent volume or area, they are never in scale on a map, and in Ponto em Escala Real the crossover of two different representational systems developed to make us understand that space—cartography and geometry—produces a rather absurd result.

 

In ‘Geometric Progression’ Galan continues to pursue similar ideas and themes. This is particularly notable in the large-scale installation Immobile (2013), which consists of a static system made of timber, cables and circular iron plates that extends across and upwards in the exhibition space. Here we have the same set of elements repeated seven times over, with all sets interconnected, starting with a one-pound coin suspended by a wispy thread attached to a tiny piece of wood. Each time this simple structure is replicated, all of its elements double in size following a mathematical formula, and quickly reach an extraordinarily large scale—the largest disc has a diameter of 1.28 metres and is suspended from an 8-metre-long piece of timber.

 

Galan’s piece is reminiscent of the logic that underlies Charles and Ray Eames’ short film Powers of Ten (1977), which starts with an aerial view of a couple having a picnic on a blanket in a park, progressively zooming out in tenfold steps until the frame can accommodate the scale of the observable universe. One cannot help but imagine what the result would be if a few further steps in Galan’s progression were made : the structure would undoubtedly surpass the physical limits of the exhibition space, becoming unmanageable in the human scale of lived experience. There is a neat paradox here : although on the one hand the mathematical formula applied in Immobile relates to an idea of order and rationality, yet on the other it would, when given a physical existence, rapidly become seemingly chaotic.

 

Yet apart from pointing to the absurd situation created by the transposition of an abstract mathematical concept into concrete reality, Immobile suggests other possible readings. Although this massive apparatus seems to be in perfect balance, with all the cables tightly stretched and the edges of the disc resting perfectly perpendicular to the ground, there is an implicit threat that any minor disturbance in the system could cause its total collapse. Furthermore, one cannot forget that the smallest element in this installation is a one-pound coin (the pound being both a measure of value and weight). The threat of imminent collapse creates an interesting parallel between Immobile and the financial market, an apparently stable system that depends on the balance of a range of different forces in order to sustain itself. This particular correspondence becomes even more significant in light of the financial crash of 2008, which revealed the precarious state of the global economy.

 

The image of the coin reappears in Galan’s video Eclipse (2013), which opens with a fixed camera showing a black grinder rotating against a white background. As the action slowly unravels, a coin held by a pair of pincers enters the frame, drawing an arc as it approaches the grinder’s surface. The moment the two objects touch, sparks are produced. The heat generated in this process lights up the edge of the coin, and this expenditure of energy forms the image of a bright circle that remains on the screen until the physical circle of the coin is completely consumed and the last sparks die out. In this way, as the actual object gradually loses its materiality, it also creates a corresponding circular shape that is completely immaterial. Removed from its original circuit of economic exchange, the coin loses its face value—and therefore its function as currency—in order to acquire a use value as an energy-generating fuel.

 

Functionality is a recurring theme that is central to Galan’s practice. Often he appropriates the form of recognisable objects, reconstructing them as non-functional sculptural pieces. Sometimes, the materials used in these pieces are enough to hinder any kind of functionality related to the original object. In Galan’s series Isolantes (Isolating) (2008 –), a seemingly pliable yellow ribbon is tied around a set of ordinary objects such as bottle racks, chairs or bricks. These sculptural constructions replicate the makeshift arrangements used to temporarily cordon off sections of space when, for instance, a hole has opened up in the ground or when there is wet paint to avoid. And yet, the supple-looking ribbons with which these assemblages are held together are actually made of unmoveable iron. Within the body of Galan’s works that addresses ideas of functionality, there is always a certain degree of illusionism, for when they are observed from a distance their appearance is often deceptive, suggesting a series of physical attributes that are completely transformed in terms of their actual weight, texture or depth when we take a closer look. Viewers experience a moment of doubt, followed by the realisation that they have indeed been tricked by their own perception.

Geometry and Experience

 

This mechanism takes on an architectural scale in the installation Three sections (2013), which occupies one of the rooms in the North Galleries. Here we observe three planes seemingly created by sheets of glass installed at different angles, crosssectioning the whole room. Our perception ‘reads’ the depth and material qualities of the installation through the colour scheme, glossy surfaces and slight variations in lighting. But as we get closer, this reading is quickly unmade as we realise the visual effect was merely created by discreet layers of paint and wax applied on the walls, ceiling and floor. Three sections is an almost entirely immaterial work, existing on the verge of illusion, principally as a mental process that unmakes itself as we step closer to it. In the sculpture Folded flag (2013), a black rectangular sheet rests on the gallery floor, one of its edges smoothly draping over a wooden pole. Although made of solid iron, this piece suggests the shape and flexibility of an actual flag. Here Galan again explores the gap between how objects are perceived and their actual physical properties, although the symbolic nature of the flag as an instrument to promote national identity seems equally important. The dark, weighty object lying inanimate on the ground seems to raise the question : In times of increasing political scepticism, is any country’s flag worth flying ? This idea relates to the photograph One day monument (2013), which depicts an odd, obelisk-like structure. Taken with a microscope camera and blown up to extreme proportions, this is in fact a close-up image of a hair sprouting from a man’s face after a night’s worth of growth. Again, there is a playing with the scale of things, but the title also implies a kind of anti-monument, one that does not pay homage to any heroes and which is systematically destroyed only to keep resisting, re-erecting itself day after day.

 

The two Bandeirinhas (Bunting) pieces (both 2013), also made in black iron, follow Galan’s procedure of displacing the original object in a way that renders it non-functional. The usually lightweight and colourful elements of a string of bunting lose altogether their festive connotations in these sculptures, which are stern, monochrome compositions. None of the flags are suspended in the air, the way bunting is typically seen at celebrations, but instead lay half folded on the ground, still connected to overstretched or loosely hanging lines tied to the walls. It is noteworthy that at several points, the exhibition

 

‘Geometric Progression’ seems to be influenced by an unusually strong gravity pull, with many works either resting on or touching the ground. This is reinforced by the themes of collapse, entropy and expenditure of energy that circulate in many works in this exhibition, such as Immobile and Eclipse.

 

Other works on show here are characterised by their ability to facilitate the perception of differing configurations, even if they are eminently still. They are exercises in imagining the possibilities of fixed structures. Inert (2013) is a rectangular metal sheet that seems to have slipped down the wall, leaving marks from the nails that held it up. As with Bandeirinha, this sculpture hints at the existence of a former arrangement of elements, and at a movement that precedes stillness. In other pieces, the idea of mental projection is connected to the potential rearrangement of existing forms. In Expanded square (2012), a black ribbon—apparently flexible but actually as stiff as those in Isolantes—is stretched diagonally around a set of four nails that are hammered into the wall. Outside the area the ribbon circumscribes, there are another two nails precisely placed on the wall, one on the shape’s top-right side and one on its left-bottom side, so if the ribbon was further stretched to wrap around them it would form a perfect square. The floor sculpture Intersection = 0 (2013), in its turn, is a physical representation of the basic relationship between mathematical sets. Two black-painted concrete discs partially overlap, with the area in which they intersect left void. Next to this shape is placed a third disc of the same diameter as the other two, adding another solid body to the composition. On the surface

of the third disc, an area corresponding to the intersection in the other piece is also painted in black. Intersection seems to underline the incongruity between a geometrical principle and the physical world : although intersection is a valid proposition in the abstract plane of geometry, when applied to concrete objects that have a mass it becomes impossible.

 

Galan’s works are characterised by a minimalism of form and a pristine finish, and the artist’s hand is never visible. His objects are often reduced to an essentialism that echoes the simple perfection of pure geometrical forms and mathematical formulas. This is not merely an aesthetic choice, but a fundamental feature of his conceptual framework. Traditional science works with closed systems, that is, systems that need to be free from the disturbances and interferences of the physical world in order to function properly. Scientific experiments are typically carried out within a limited set of variables—or at least they were before the arrival of supercomputers, which can perform millions of calculations within an extraordinarily condensed space of time. When testing a hypothesis, scientists create a controlled environment in order to be able to observe how specific factors behave. In other words, they have to simplify the complexity of lived experience into schematic systems.

 

Furthermore, essentialism in science is an important tool to establish basic concepts and notions that can be further employed in more complex operations. Geometry and mathematics, for instance, depart from a series of elementary axioms that serve as the logical foundations for theorems that are subsequently used in the development of elaborate geometric figures and mathematical formulas. Likewise, the formal simplicity typical of Galan’s work is a necessary requirement to convey complex ideas related to representational systems developed to understand different aspects of space : architecture, cartography and geometry. All of these systems involve a process of rationalisation of the physical space that filters out any unnecessary information. Galan borrows this language in order to create his minimal structures, approximating them to what could be described as a ‘scientific aesthetic’. Moreover, he confronts the basic principles that characterise these representation systems with different aspects of the physical world and lived experience, keeping them in check.

 

If in many instances Galan’s pieces bear a formal resemblance to the rigorous and precise works of the Brazilian Concrete artists, who also adopted mathematical principles in their compositions, they are nonetheless far apart conceptually. Although form and composition play an important role in Galan’s practice, there is always an underlying notion of temporality. For instance, in his series Erased composition (expansion) and Erased composition (progression) (both 2013), the pieces of which are particularly evocative of the work of Concrete master Luís Sacilotto, the displacement of an ordinary material is a stand-out characteristic, as is a certain entropic atmosphere.

 

Speaking recently about his work (3), Galan suggested that his practice is deeply connected with the notion of ‘social diagrams’. When space is rationalised its functions and uses become prescribed. This is quite clear in a discipline such as architecture, where buildings are specifically designed to fulfil a certain function. As a consequence, the way we are supposed to behave in these buildings is intrinsically tied to the way they were designed—architecture creates a set of rules on how space is occupied and experienced. In the case of cartography, on the other hand, the mapping of space contributed to the conquest of overseas territories and the emergence of colonial empires. In the late 15th century, cartographers applied a geometric grid to the world, fixing the axes of latitude and longitude and creating a visual representation of the globe. This geographic image allowed for previously uncharted oceans and territories to be regarded as spaces that, potentially, could be crossed and conquered. The term ‘social diagrams’ is therefore quite useful, as it encapsulates both the idea of representational systems designed to understand space and their social implications as played out in real-life events. The word ‘social’ suggests that in spite of being largely accepted objective and true representations, diagrams are simplified abstractions of complex networks of relationships that take place in the concrete world. In this process, many elements are lost or purposefully left out. In this exhibition these abstract diagrams are often evoked or applied to physical objects, an operation which brings to the fore logical gaps between geometry and experience. Galan’s work creates sticking points in these social diagrams, underscoring their inherent contradictions and calling us to trust experience as a source of valuable knowledge.

 

Notes:

1— Geometry and Experience is the title of a lecture given by Albert Einstein at the Prussian Academy of Sciences in Berlin on January 27, 1921. First published in German as Geometrie und Erfahrung (Berlin: Julius Springer 1921), pp.121 – 31.

2— J. L. Borges 1998. ‘On exactitude in science’, in, Jorge Luis Borges, Collected Fictions, (Trans. by H. Hurley, (London: Penguin Books), p.325

3— Artists’ talk at Gasworks (London), June 4,