NOTES ON NATIONAL IDENTITY AND VISUAL CULTURE

There are few things so generally felt, and at the same time so hard to argue for as the intimate relationship between art and national identity. It is easy to read in the haughty and boorish faces by Frans Hals the proud burgher of 17th century Holland, in the landscapes by Albert Cuyp the low and endless Dutch horizon, and in the interiors by Terborgh or Vermeer the Dutch ideal of a clean and well-organized society. And yet, are these things in any way particularly Dutch? I doubt any of these artists would have understood the observation. Nationhood was a tenuous thing in those days, a rarity in western Europe that was still ruled by kings, emperors, fiefs and lords, each of whom defined their 'nation' in terms of territory and ownership, rather than people and identity.

It is only as result of the complex legacy of 19th century liberation movements that we see Rembrandt and Vermeer as representative of a nation, which is home to a distinct community, whose members share common ambitions and feelings, habits and longings. I suspect one important cause for this is the art market. The artists and their works have been made into examples of Dutchness. Contemporary artists who deal with portraiture, light or interiors in slightly similar ways as these masters did, are immediately picked up by dealers and sold as typically Dutch. Culture and nationhood have only a superficial connection here.

One may wonder, are not the Dutch known for their cleanliness, equal-mindedness, honesty, consistency, pride, mercantile and financial leanings, stinginess, and a particular type of bluntness? Having been away from Holland myself for quite some time, I see these points. Yet, I also realize how the Dutch only learn about them when they are abroad, and when they are suddenly confronted with this export product they never consciously produced, an image of themselves as part of a distinct collective, viewed from the outside. It is, moreover, a narrative with diminishing validity. The constant flux of people and increasingly globalized networks shatter its original premise that cultural and national boundaries ought to coincide.

If national identity is a malleable concept for those who wish to use it, so is art and its relationship to society. It is reasonable to state that an artist is to some extent the product of his surroundings, and therefore his work is in some measure reflective of those surroundings. Yet, artists tend to move around in local or in international circles, but, beyond prizes, competitions, biennials and other such external structures, national circles are artificial to the realm of culture, unless that culture is shaped and determined by political conditions including, for instance, a nationalist regime.

By saying these things, I do not mean to reject the subject out of hand. Rather I wish to stress my belief that we must problematize any number of causal connections between such tenuous concepts as national identity and visual culture.

How then, is it possible to speak of a meaningful relationship between visual culture and national identity? I think one has to view it in its proper context. Too often, the term 'national' is employed in a normative context: as if artists would either be engaged in creating or conforming to a national identity. Instead, one should view national identity as an interpretative theme, a viewpoint that groups a series of cultural expressions. We may be able to isolate national themes or pre-occupations, in the case of the Dutch their highly organized landscape and society, their lack of ceremonies, or surface honesty and openness. We may find equivalencies, a narrative thread, a neat story every detail of which reinforces some other detail, and which, if combined, paints a picture of Dutch culture. But we must also, as with any interpretative context, consider its flaws and pitfalls. How, for instance, should one view works made by artists that are relatively new to the country, immigrants and foreigners, whose work is, one could argue, colored by their Dutch cultural surroundings? And how should one interpret the oeuvre of Dutch natives who live most of the time abroad, as did Vincent van Gogh and Willem De Kooning? What should their narrative be, how are they linked to national culture, and how can their work be read as the product of that culture? As with every thematic cohesion, when the grouped works are bound too tight in a referential framework, one risks ending up with a series of works whose interpretative range is limited to suit a narrow sense of national identity.

I wrote the above points down to prepare for a series of discussions about 'national identity and visual culture' on a three-day tour in Croatia, which took place in the beginning of November. Part of the presentation was devoted to an exhibition Witte de With had organized about Dutch art, which showed a selection of works that dealt with a range of identifiably Dutch issues. I asked the Croatian audience how they would envision such an exhibition for Croatian art, one that would cohere Croatian art within a national context. In the subsequent discussions, I was struck by the recurrent observation made by the audience that Croatian art lacks identity. It was hard to gauge for me exactly what this comment meant. Did the audience, consisting predominantly of (art) students and artists, think lowly of the quality of Croatian art? Was it resistant against the idea of national identity? Or did it have strong feelings about protecting art against the muddy political waters of nationalism?

The Croats find themselves in an unenviable position, similar to that of inhabitants of other post-communist nations. While emancipating from the slow moving and ideologically defunct Yugoslav regime, they fell for a dynamic, nationalist regime inspired by ideals of national and ethnic purity. Myriad recently carved war monuments and fields of fresh flowers on burial grounds attest to the poisonous effects of these ideals every day. It has left the Croats weary, listless and skeptical. What are they to believe? How should they envision their new-won nationality? And why apply it to the arts?

In this context it may seem frivolous and presumptuous to present a detached scholarly view of national identity as a narrative construct. Obviously, all Croats have in some measure experienced the tremendous power and effect of nationalist tendencies. It is very hard to discuss the issue of national identity without it being associated with those tendencies, which are either feared or loved, but never looked upon as mere constructs. Yet, I think this circumstance makes it even more necessary to think of national identity as a narrative category. Such a perspective demythologizes nationalist ideology, and as result allows for a more open definition of national identity, which includes a healthy regard for all the things that nationalists usually abhor, including the coexistence of ethnically various groups, pluriformity of political expression, and ethical and social allegiances with groups outside national borders.

Grass root organizations including Zdravo Drustvo, which brought us to Croatia in the context of a series of evenings at which foreign 'experts' discuss cultural pluriformity as a way to think about national identity, are essential agents in cultivating this perspective. They perceive correctly that reflection about national identity must be initiated in the realm of culture, since it is here that these themes can be freely questioned and explored. This reflection constitutes the best medicine against narrow interpretations of national identity suggested by politicians and ideologues. To reject it, by claiming that Croatian art has no identity, is to leave the issue in their hands. Then it may take much longer to cultivate a meaningful sense of a union that leaves room for difference.

© Valentijn Byvanck