History cannot simply be conceived in terms of past events,
narratives and occurrences but also and primarily, as it relates to the
present. The way we accumulate history unquestionably shapes the way we
understand reality. But whose History are we talking about? What does it
mean to us? How is it formed? Through which processes does it become
official? And why does it matter?
As Christopher Blake argues, if at worst no two historians can
agree on what really happened, at best, agreement in one generation
fails to survive the next. Understanding the absences and gaps with
which history has been narrated and departing from a certain historical
skepticism based on the idealist metaphysical account of knowledge as a
process towards the Absolute, Stelios Karamanolis (b.1977) is driven
almost by impulse to explore and map different historical scenarios.
Yet, his intention is far more than to confront us with shreds of images
from the recent past. First and foremost, Karamanolis is concerned with
challenging the way historical events express themselves in images
today. How do we experience and perceive them? How do images influence
the so-called collective memory of a nation? What images are eventually
presented and which are ultimately withheld?
“Grace” is a double royal portrait, deriving from two very similar
actual photographs published simultaneously in the press. One
illustrates the royal family presenting their offspring to society and
the next shows the royals occupying the very same positions while posing
this time with their dog. Repetition is one of the fundamental standards
by which history is created and the artist uses it both to comment on
the process of historical canonization and to draw attention to the
intellectual content of the work. In reaction to the excessively hasty
and superficial consumption of images today, the viewer has no option
than to pay attention. We are obliged to observe and reread. In
association with current socio-political expectations, Karamanolis
creates a subversive kind of parody of power and forces us to both
remember and examine the way history is told.
“Last Flight to Hell” is the first of a series of paper-stencil
prints inspired by titles of B-movies from the late eighties.
Provocative and sharp, they tell no story of victors and defeat but aim
to create counter narratives that recognize the inclusion of suppressed
histories, presenting us with an odd blend of subjective historical
accounts and strong emotion.
Finally, “Battlefield” is a series of 3D digitally rendered
photographs presented as stills of a bizarre war video-game. In the
artist’s version of the game, all the details that would help one
identify the landscapes have been removed and all human presence has
been erased. Uncannily familiar, they could be both places deriving from
a childhood memory and scenes from a movie or game. Yet, they are little
more than sceneries; invented sites of potential battlefields that could
be anywhere in the world. Are they shots from the past, the present or
the future? In one picture, a non-realistic war structure, like a huge
spiked, fence-like air-defense mechanism enhances the war scenario. Is
this a lethal barrier or an amusement park? The fence appears equally
alarming and absurd. Witty, yet in total accordance with the absurdity
of war itself.