2 705 BACI...*

“The focus on practices of re-appropriation rather than on a critique of stereotypes is meant to eschew one tempting reaction to stereotypes: the desire to oppose them as statements, to declare them wrong, false, to attack them as a form of non-truth which, presumably, we could hope to replace by a better or more accurate statement about the stereotyped community.”

From the introduction of the book “Declining the Stereotype” by Mireille Rosello (1)

Sislej Xhafa is known for his controversial and provocative artistic works and interventions that he himself likes to label as “actions”. Most of his oeuvre is built on the challenge towards institutions, prejudice and stereotypes; it relies on a continuous friction between cultures, offering almost a repertory of tactics to counter standardisation and categorisation in today’s increasing populist rhetoric. Quite a consistent part of Xhafa’s work was developed during the years of his stay in Italy, a period during which he was constantly exposed to and confronted with an increasing xenophobia and many cultural clashes in what is one of the most important West European democracies. Xhafa decided to turn these circumstances into subjects of his works and even derive his working method from them.

Many of Xhafa’s works elaborate with a dark humour and an acute sharpness on how stereotypes of “the other” – mainly legal and illegal immigrants – are constructed and used as scapegoats in the rhetoric of the power edifice. Several of his interventions are carried out with a clinical cut through the social texture, highlighting the essential ingredient in the making of stereotypes – the fear factor. For example, in Cal-Al Sheikh (2000), Xhafa confronts the inhabitants of a community with a large (fake) announcement about the construction of a mosque right across the street from the church, exposing them to this “threat” that is supposedly financed with EU money. In BENVENUTO (WELCOME, 2000) he creates an immense land art intervention on the hills of Tuscany, writing the traditional word that expresses warm feelings towards the newcomer, but that indeed is the last word a fear controlled society is likely to use. In Ali Hamadou – The businessman of the future (2002) he makes a gigantic black sculpture of a “coloured” businessman, marching self-assuredly towards his/our future – the twist is that the sculpture can only be seen/experienced in darkness. Xhafa goes on to produce the life sized Giuseppe (2003), a sculpture of Giuseppe Garibaldi, the father of the Italian nation, in which he is portrayed as a short, sad, old man, searching for his notorious horse, on the back of which he rode to unite the country. Somebody has seemingly stolen it from him, together with a part of Italy’s history.

Later on Xhafa moves to New York. His beloved subjects continue to permeate his work, but with a new slant – a stronger sensitivity for the increased use of the same old fear in the so called largest democracy in the world. Here we can refer to several new works, like the outdoor sculptural installation Ceremonial Crying System (2004), a colossal white hood reminiscent of Ku Klux Klan attire, with clear yet ambiguous connotations, and water dripping through the openings for the eyes as if it was crying. To culminate with the gigantic police baton in When Mac Goes Black (2006), or the strong minimalist painting triptych If You See Something, Say Something (2006), alluding to the campaign with the same name that dominates an ever more controlled American society.

As we can see, Xhafa does not possess any single language that he can claim. He easily moves from one context to another, working in the background, contaminating styles and idioms: photos, videos, objects and performances can all become part of his complex and often gigantic installations or they can be used in a more discrete way, on the verge of the invisible, when the artist decides to disappear and mingle with reality. Thus, with 2 705 baci…, Xhafa decides to investigate the new paradigm unfolded by the current politico-economic situation in Italy, where the state has been reduced to a desire-fulfilling machine for the will of only one person, the Italian Prime Minister, Silvio Berlusconi. The biggest wonder, however, is not Berlusconi’s authoritarian ways, but his incredibly high popularity. What is interesting to note though is Xhafa’s ability to not simply visualise aspects of the current state of affairs, but also to lay before us a foresight of what is coming to Italy and to the rest of Europe – the rise and expansion of authoritarian capitalism.

Now, however detached we might think we are in relation to Berlusconi, we are all still involved and responsible as parts of the same machinery that produced him as a phenomenon, proliferating through the expansive march of authoritarian capitalism, along with the curbing of civil rights and freedoms. Let’s stop for a moment to reflect on the rise of such character. As the Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek points out in his text “Berlusconi in Teheran”:

“Berlusconi is a significant figure, and Italy an experimental laboratory where our future is being worked out. If our political choice is between permissive-liberal technocratism and fundamentalist populism, Berlusconi’s great achievement has been to reconcile the two, to embody both at the same time […]. The wager behind Berlusconi’s vulgarities is that the people will identify with him as embodying the mythic image of the average Italian: I am one of you, a little bit corrupt, in trouble with the law, in trouble with my wife because I’m attracted to other women […]. Yet we shouldn’t be fooled: behind the clownish mask there is a state power that functions with ruthless efficiency. Perhaps by laughing at Berlusconi we are already playing his game. A technocratic economic administration combined with a clownish façade does not suffice, however: something more is needed. That something is fear, and here Berlusconi’s two-headed dragon enters: immigrants and ‘communists’ (Berlusconi’s generic name for anyone who attacks him, including the Economist).” (2)

The intention to challenge the viewer is highlighted even more when one considers the new sculpture in connection with the installation of the other pieces in the show. From the moment of entering the space, the viewer is confronted with the choice of either walking towards the sculpture or turning towards the other work, Future of Old (2001) that is flickering faintly in darkness. The photograph shows a Moroccan emigrant dosing off in some train station – a very innocent image of someone who should constitute the representation of fear, an image of the god Phobos himself in the syntax of the power structure – yet almost a “sleeping beauty”. The space in the meantime is permeated by the sound of a very familiar Italian song – Volare. The sound is coming from the video work with the same title Volare (1999), a piece which the artist realized in his early years in Italy. In front of us we see Xhafa dressed like the most typical stereotyped cliché of the Italian man we can ever imagine, lacquer in his hair, thin moustache, chequered suit, singing at the top of his voice the difficult tones of Volare, a beautiful yet clichéd Italian song. The re-appropriation strategy Rosello is talking about unfolds here at full strength. Furthermore, by installing these pieces in a confrontational manner in the space, it is as if Xhafa reclaims the very right to re-appropriate and use the stereotypes from Berlusconi himself, who, as we earlier saw, is also making use of the same strategy.

The installation of the other pieces falls within this framework too: in the photograph Again and Again (2000) a full-bodied philharmonic orchestra of Antwerp is featured wearing black ski masks just as our clichéd image of a terrorist would look like; in the sweet video Skinheads Swimming (2002) a couple of real skinheads are swimming and kissing inside the famous Fontana di Trevi in Rome, re-enacting scenes from the equally famous La Dolce Vita (The Sweet Life) film of Federico Fellini, with Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg as main protagonists; while in Beh-rang the violent act of burning and the purifying symbolism of fire overlap in the image of the burning bicycle.

The title of the exhibition too has particular significance. 2 705 baci… is borrowed from and refers to another song of an iconic figure of the Italian entertainment world: the singer/actor Adriano Celentano, who became famous with his Ventiquattromila baci (Twenty four thousand kisses). Xhafa has replaced the twenty four thousand amorous kisses with the number two thousand, seven hundred and five, which is the exact number of days that corresponds to every single day Berlusconi, has been in power, from the day he first came to power until the day of the opening of this exhibition, on February 6, 2010. The dots of reticence serve to keep a count of what is to come and to remind us that perhaps we are paying him too much attention – or perhaps we’re not paying him attention enough…

25 January 2010

Edi Muka
Curator Röda Sten


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(1) “Declining the Stereotype: Ethnicity and Representation in French Cultures”; Mireille Rosello; Dartmouth, 1st edition, 15 January 1998

(2) “Berlusconi in Tehran”; Slavoj Žižek – London Review of Books; Vol. 31, No. 13, 23 July 2009


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