| 1. |
- Lilja, Mona, 1971, et al.
(författare)
-
Power, Resistance and Social Change
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Journal of Political Power. - 2158-379X .- 2158-3803. ; 16:2
-
Tidskriftsartikel (refereegranskat)
|
|
| 2. |
- Tetzlaff, Andrew, et al.
(författare)
-
Tintin Wulia: Secrets
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Melbourne, RMIT Gallery, 5 Dec 2023 - 27 Jan 2024.
-
Konstnärligt arbete (övrigt vetenskapligt/konstnärligt)abstract
- Tintin Wulia is an Indonesian Australian artist whose work reflects on globalisation and geopolitics and uses personal stories to unpick and lay them bare. For over 20 years she has researched the histories that have been told by the world’s dominant narrators, scrutinising their blindspots and systemic inequities and retelling them from nonconforming perspectives. Wulia’s recounting brings the past powerfully into the present and centres it on the voices of the periphery. Her works decode, reinterpret and represent history, orienting us to the current global situation in an effort to help collectively navigate towards a more socially just future.
|
|
| 3. |
- Winataputri, B, et al.
(författare)
-
Episode 16: Tintin Wulia – Embracing process and trusting the journey
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Talking Contemporary Podcast. ; :Episode 16
-
Annan publikation (övrigt vetenskapligt/konstnärligt)abstract
- In this episode, Bianca Winataputri sat down with Indonesian-Australian artist and researcher Tintin Wulia. Tintin wore many hats over the course of her artmaking journey. Before becoming an artist, she was previously trained as a musician, composer, and architect. Tintin’s journey in making art had many unexpected turns, but she has always been guided by her passion for learning and embracing the process wherever it may take her. We spoke about stories from her childhood, uncovering her family history and the disappearance of her grandfather, her journey from composing music to making her very first artwork, and what art means to her in a constantly changing world.
|
|
| 4. |
- Wulia, Tintin, 1972
(författare)
-
Absence in Substantia: Frequency
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Jakarta, Baik Art, 10 Jan - 24 Feb 2024.
-
Konstnärligt arbete (övrigt vetenskapligt/konstnärligt)abstract
- Absence in Substantia developed through analyses of data within what I came to call the Protocols of Killings archive. This archive, declassified in 2018, contains the once-classified cables that passed through the US Embassy in Jakarta spanning the years 1964-1968. It’s a wide-ranging record of communications during the critical period surrounding the 1965-66 Indonesian mass killings. When I started analysing the archive, I found 798 documents titled “Withdrawal Notice.” These are placeholders of documents that are considered still sensitive, and so they were retracted during the official evaluation that precedes declassification. So they’re sort of the secrets that are made even more secrets, even more restricted. This is where I extend on Walters’ logic: instead of seeing the closure as a problem, I focus on this disclosure-generated closure as potential. I also bring in my personal experiences of liminal death, and political scientist Oliver Kearns’s work on the absence left by drone strikes. Kearns argues that “A political response to covert strikes must go beyond 'filling in' absences and address how absence gains meaning in implicit ways.” From these withdrawal notices, I extracted dates referring to the original documents, to output frequency and density graphs of these retractions over time. The resulting bird's eye views show a pattern that peaks around the first date of the killings, 1 October 1965, which you can see as the pinkish-red thread cutting vertically on this work. Here I co-opt the act of closure into disclosure. I know this cooptation quite well. My grandfather’s liminal death left an unfilled lacuna, a particular hole right in the heart of my family, so to say. But we knew that there is no point filling this hole with anything else, because without this hole in its heart, my family’s heart is never whole. In other words, this wholeness that fully considers the hole is exactly why absence can be of substance. I think of this as a method of resistance—this Absence in Substantia. Absence in Substantia: Frequency, is showing the frequency graph on one of its two sides. Another work in the pair, showing the density graph, is being displayed in my other solo exhibition at RMIT Gallery in Melbourne, Australia. The other side of these works suggests the magnitude of the documents retracted from the archive, like an eruption of secrets from a document shredder, like the remains of something that’s destroyed with a pronounced presence.
|
|
| 5. |
- Wulia, Tintin, 1972
(författare)
-
Aesthetic resistance: publicness, potentiality, and plexus
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Journal of Political Power. - 2158-379X .- 2158-3803. ; 16:2
-
Tidskriftsartikel (refereegranskat)abstract
- This paper explicates the concept of aesthetic resistance (AR) and its connection to sociopolitical change, drawing from resistance studies’ frameworks. Combining semi-structured and integrative reviews of literature on resistance in art and aesthetics across the humanities and social sciences, the paper performs a thematic analysis to identify patterns in AR’s definitions, modes and domains, attributes, and transformative variables. These are synthesized in terms of the evolving resistance studies’ frameworks and an understanding of aesthetics as relating to the sensorium, ultimately revealing three interlocking issues: (1) publicness, (2) potentiality, and (3) plexus. These AR-specific issues contribute to the categorization of resistance, its identification, and the tracing of its network en route to change.
|
|
| 6. |
- Wulia, Tintin, 1972
(författare)
-
Almost Indestructible
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Artlink. - 0727-1239. ; 43:1, s. 42-48
-
Tidskriftsartikel (refereegranskat)abstract
- This essay is based on my lecture-performance on materiality and migration, presented at the Röhsska Museum, Gothenburg, in 2022. I connect mosquitoes and living with my grandfather’s disappearance, weaving Rachel Carson’s The Edge of the Sea, the borders and the persistence of colonialism, US eradication of both malaria and communism, the environmental movement, and – extending Laurent Berlant's slow death– my micrography work-in-progress on liminal death.
|
|
| 7. |
- Wulia, Tintin, 1972
(författare)
-
Liminal Death
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Melbourne, RMIT Gallery, 5 Dec 2023 - 27 Jan 2024.
-
Konstnärligt arbete (övrigt vetenskapligt/konstnärligt)abstract
- During an Artistic Research Fellowship at the Smithsonian Institution in 2019 I learned from leading entomologists and mosquito specialists in the Walter Reed Biosystematics Unit, or WRBU, in Maryland. During my time there, while studying live mosquito specimens, I was captivated by what I began to call “liminal death.” These are deaths that happen during metamorphosis, right at the critical moment when the mosquito larvae emerge from their exoskeleton, moving across the border between two completely different habitats: water and air. This is such a fascinating process. It was almost like seeing the birth of a human baby except for a big difference: the mosquito is much more active in this process compared to a human baby. They step out of their larval exoskeleton and this needs to happen very quickly, because otherwise they risk drowning. So not all of them would make it. Some, like you can see in this specimen, would emerge head and wings first, but would never step out of their larval shell before it’s too late. So death here is a death in process, frozen in time, preserved in ethanol. This makes me think of my grandfather’s death. My grandfather was disappeared in 1965, and was never returned. So his death was underway and unfinished: his body was never found, so, in fear, my family preserved their hope - and was suspended by this hope – that he was still alive. We are aware that there is no hope that he was still alive, but in the sake of keeping hope in a sea of fear and hopelessness, we decided not to know, to preserve our hope. Talking about preservation: ethanol preserves specimens quite well, but may alter the specimens’ original appearance. Over time, ethanol can also evaporate, affecting the preservation of the specimens. This is another way to say that time heals: it does something to memory. Healing can be thought of as a sort of modification to one’s memory, reimagined in its relation to emotion. But still, my grandfather never really died. He has a liminal death.
|
|
| 8. |
- Wulia, Tintin, 1972
(författare)
-
Memory is Frail (and Truth Falters)
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Melbourne, RMIT Gallery, 5 Dec 2023 - 27 Jan 2024.
-
Konstnärligt arbete (övrigt vetenskapligt/konstnärligt)
|
|
| 9. |
- Wulia, Tintin, 1972
(författare)
-
(Re)Collection of Togetherness – stage 11
- 2023
-
Ingår i: Netherlands, Museum Arnhem, 15 July - 22 October 2023.
-
Konstnärligt arbete (övrigt vetenskapligt/konstnärligt)abstract
- (Re)Collection of Togetherness (Tintin Wulia, ongoing since 2007) is an ongoing cycle of work that started in 2007 and has been shown in stages (stage 1 in 2007 in Jakarta, stage 2 and 3 in Jogja and Eindhoven in 2008, stage 4 in 2009 in Sydney, stage 5 in 2010 in the Jakarta Biennale, stage 6 in 2011 in Paris, stage 7 in 2012 in Singapore, stage 8 in Kuala Lumpur, stage 9 in 2013 in Melbourne, stage 10 in 2015 in Windsor). The characteristics of the passports – personally sanctified, economically valuable, discriminating, hierarchical and falsely signifying freedom – are the basis of my re- imagination in my passport works. The cycle of (Re)Collection is principally a performative and process-based work in which I aim to: (1) imitate passports from all the countries on earth; and (2) keep them in an ever-growing collection of self-/handmade passports. The number of appropriated passports keeps changing according to the political mapping of the world. The pages of these handmade passports are blank white, with a few mosquitoes squashed between some, leaving specks of blood on the facing pages. As mosquitoes suck blood of mammals, these blood specks might have been human's or their pets. So, next to these blood specks I write names of random people (and pets) with pencil. Later in stage 6, I allowed participants to write their own names into the passports through a game-performance. The act of collecting passports is never-ending because the premise of the work is that the border will continually be changing. Doing this work requires my constant awareness on new issuance or passports that become obsolete. Therefore, the project is actually a parallel to the attempt to trace the geopolitical movement on earth, much like a geologist would observe plate tectonics that are in states of constant change. The different stages of the cycle can be seen like a still photograph of a movement in time. In the search for passport images, I had no systematic strategy. I would stroll around the Internet whenever I have time and find images of passports here and there – downloads from Google, wikipedia or blogs, photographs or scans emailed by friends and others. Then I reproduce these images carefully by hand. I also cut the paper to size, sew each passport-sized notebook, bind the covers, and trace each cover design with a golden marker manually. This Internet search would not guarantee a consistency of calibration. By the time I print out this image on my side of cyberspace, the image having been transferred into a computer and sent through email to me and eventually to my printer, the result of the printing might show a completely different colour from the original object. One of my criteria is that there should be no colour correction procedure on my side in any way. The act of arranging the passports according to colour (instead of geographical region or alphabetical order) is an act of disorganising the organised, intervening into norm-referenced systems of categorisation, dis-categorising the categorised. The hierarchy of geopolitical status or economic value signified by the passports is deliberately disturbed by introducing another kind of hierarchy: colour.
|
|
| 10. |
|
|
