Carroll/Fletcher Gallery’s soon-to-shut exhibition Neoliberal Lulz takes a look at manifestations of capitalism, and specifically at the joint-stock company, a form of social organisation that is both broadly criticised and utterly indispensable.
The press release invokes the fall of the gold standard in 1971, but the more resonant historical starting point is the 2008 Global Financial Crisis (GFC), the aftermath of which we are, arguably, only halfway through. The artists in the show intertwine a perspective on the GFC with parallel, and more than incidentally related, developments in Western consumerist society, technology and politics. In comparison other work on similar themes out there, this is a sophisticated take, aestheticised with high production values. It is also muted: no screeching about Late Capitalism – yet it remains an eminently political and punchy show.
Constant Dullaart, Femke Herregraven, Emilie Brout & Maxime Marion, and Jennifer Lyn Morone combined investigations into the mechanics of financial capitalism, particularly the corporation, with elements of contemporary social discourse, such as privacy in a networked world, corporate tax evasion, or the visuals of ubiquitous advertising. From a material perspective, the exhibition was very long video and web, and short to the tune of 20,000 shares sold online to the public. The physical stuff on display was slick – perspex, photographs, CGI video, machined aluminium, etched glass, careful ink-on-paper drawing, neon. One could easily see in this show the genealogy of Haacke, Sekula, Klein, and the aesthetics-of-administration, albeit less explicitly applied here to the Artworld.
Herregraven’s work, I thought, took the subtlest approach – he seemed to focus on the terminology of high-frequency trading, and its emphasis on ultra-short timescales, the so-called ‘latency’ of a stock order-routing network. Machined aluminium bars both recalled a graph of pulses in a fibre-optic cable, as well as a more archaic currency: the Spartan legislator Lycurgus, perhaps to prevent the corrosive influence of ‘easy’ money in society, mandated that gold and silver coins be replaced by heavy and unwieldy iron bars. In doing so, any usefulness of money that stemmed from its portability would be eliminated, leaving only its function as a numeraire.
In another work, Herregraven worked with Dutch technologists to make an online game of tax avoidance – players could organise the corporate structure of their (fictional) companies to minimise tax bills. This reflects the contemporary anger about multinationals using the tax code to drastically cut their taxes. There’s an ambiguity here that oft goes unmentioned: the companies are generally using perfectly legal means, and mostly complying with laws that democratically-elected legislators have enacted. Thus to get angry (only) at the companies is to overlook the fact that politicians, the system, and indeed, in many cases, voters themselves, are at fault. I recall a U.S. appellate-court judge, the brilliantly-named Learned Hand, commenting on taxation: ‘Any one may so arrange his affairs that his taxes shall be as low as possible; he is not bound to choose that pattern which will best pay the Treasury; there is not even a patriotic duty to increase one’s taxes.’ (in Helvering vs Gregory  Source: Chirelstein, Marvin A. Learned Hand’s Contribution to the Law of Tax Avoidance in Yale Law Journal Vol 77, 1968. http://digitalcommons.law.yale.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=5558&context=fss_papers).
Emilie Brout and Maxime Marion established a French company, the sole purpose of which was to be a work of art, and are selling shares in the company online (http://www.untitledsas.com/). As a corporate shell with no debt, its value is lower-bounded by the cash it holds from share subscriptions, while the sky is the limit on the upside, and indeed the company is now worth €300,000. In doing so, they reference and update Yves Klein’s conceptual share-certificate work Zone of Immaterial Pictorial Sensibility (1959). They were advised by a French legal firm, presumably to ensure regulatory compliance for share offerings – something that is not merely a technical footnote. Although the facts are quite different, one may for illustration and amusement read about the 2015 Sand Hill Exchange case: what might happen when the ‘fun’ aspect of an online game, interacts with pedantic, boring, and ever so aggressively-enforced SEC rules (https://www.sec.gov/news/pressrelease/2015-123.html).
In another, slightly more predictable work, they ordered free samples of gold-coloured objects, which were then framed along with texts that document where and how they were produced. The works seemed to comment on labour, production chains, and whether things described as ‘free’ or ‘costless’ really are so (thus tying in nicely with Morone below). They also echo Christopher Williams’ practice that exposes, via attached text or books, the documentation, material, bureaucracy and geography of the banal objects he photographs, albeit without the beauty or intense staging that Williams brings to bear on the images themselves.
Jennifer Lyn Morone continued with the idea of the corporate entity, in this case, incorporating herself and selling shares. Her specific angle relates to the contention that internet-users collectively give away an enormous amount of personal data to the companies that provide internet services. Even if the data is aggregated and anonymised, it is still valuable as it correlates geography, consumption (eating, buying, browsing) patterns, social networks, medical anxieties (as evidenced by web searches), political allegiances, and so forth. We give this up in exchange for free, or the perception of free, access to the internet and perhaps even consumer goods (Shoshana Zuboff wrote a great piece on this in the Frankfurter Allegemeine Zeitung http://www.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/debatten/the-digital-debate/shoshana-zuboff-secrets-of-surveillance-capitalism-14103616.html). Morone’s concept and videos, and its connections to bio-politics, are considerably more thought-provoking than her somewhat forced manufactured objects that cross consumer design and advertising: perfume-on-a-plinth or diamonds-made-from-hair.
Lastly, Constant Dullaart had a number of video and image-based works that reflected on corporate design and branding, as well as the fact that companies develop technology that is used for purposes that not everyone agrees with, so-called ‘dual-use’: in this case, spyware that might have been utilised to monitor various political activities during the 2014 Arab Spring. These works were all well-made, but other than the large photographs in the front room, they didn’t seem particularly strong aesthetically or conceptually: I didn’t discern a lot of new ideas or imaginative re-workings of old ideas.
The exhibition as a whole, however, provides a different take to other relevant recent shows. For instance, Show Me the Money: The Image of Finance, 1700 to the Present (2014-2016), is a particularly comprehensive and historical look at finance and financial crises. The academic curators have, admirably, taken on difficult topics and tried to make them somewhat accessible to a general audience. Furtherfield’s Art Data Money (2015) programme had some overlap with the Carroll/Fletcher exhibition (Morone and Brout/Marion were shown), but with a more explicit political agenda and with much greater emphasis on social engagement/participation. Carroll/Fletcher’s conceptual cross between corporate structure and technology, delivered as a tasteful and elegant exhibition in a major for-profit gallery points out what is really at stake here: the inherent ambiguity we face in criticising capitalism while sitting comfortably within its consumerist cocoon.