Benjamen Walker's Theory of Everything - Where does real art come from? (three fakes)

Episode Date: April 12, 2022

Hitler and Goebbels read Walter Benjamin in the bunker, Orson Wells discovers the magic of the fake crowd. Plus, a profile of artist Lynn Hershman Leeson.

You are listening to Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything. At Radiotopia, we now have a select group of amazing supporters that help us make all our shows possible. If you would like to have your company or product sponsor this podcast, then get in touch. Drop a line to sponsor at radiotopia.fm. Thanks. episode. Why is there something called influencer voice? What's the deal with the TikTok shop? What is posting disease and do you have it? Why can it be so scary and yet feel so great to block someone on social media? The Neverpost team wonders why the internet and the world because of the internet is the way it is. They talk to artists, lawyers, linguists, content creators, sociologists, historians, and more about our current tech and media moment. From PRX's Radiotopia, Never Post, a podcast for and about the Internet.

Episodes every other week at neverpo.st and wherever you find pods. This installment is called Where Does Real Art Come From? Ladies and gentlemen, this broadcast comes to you from the city. We are here on the central plaza. We are well off to the eastward edge. The crowd is enormous. There might be 10,000. There might be more. The whole square is faces. This is the opening of a radio drama that went out live from the Park Avenue Armory in New York City on March 4th, 1937. The radio play is called Fall of the City. It was written by the poet Archibald MacLeish, and the role of the radio announcer is played by Orson Welles.

It's one minute to twelve now, but there's still no sign. They are still waiting. The announcer is reporting live from the city's town square. The crowd is awaiting the arrival of a conquering dictator in his army. This is the first time a fake crowd is being used on the platform are motionless. There's no sound but the shuffle of shoe leather. Now even the shoes are still. In order to create the acoustical atmosphere of a large city square, the young radio engineer Irving Rice hired a group of 200 college drama students to play the crowd of 10,000. Here's how he did it. At a cue in the script, the crowd was given a signal to cheer. When the persons around the

microphone stopped cheering, the recordings of their own voices were then brought in. These sounds took about three seconds to reach the microphone. And with careful timing of both onstage sounds and offstage recordings, the oral effect, as interpreted by the listeners, sound exactly like the cheers of a great crowd echoing in the distance. At the end of the play, we see through Orson Welles' eyes the true face of the conquering dictator. He's clear of the shadow. The sun takes him. They cover their faces with fingers. They cower before him. They fall. They sprawl on the stone.

He's alone where he's walking. He marches with rattle of metal. He tramples the shadow. He mounts by the pyramid. Stamps on the stairway. Turns. His arm rises. His visor is opening.

There's no one. There's no one at all. No one. The helmet is hollow. The metal is empty. The armor is empty. I tell you, there's no one at all there. There's only the metal, the barrel of metal, the bundle of armor. It's empty. The clothes have no emperor. This was 1937. Archibald MacLeish hoped to warn America about the totalitarian forces on the march in Europe. MacLeish's next play, Air Raid, was also a warning about the civilian costs of total war. Like Fall of the City, it's set in an unnamed metropolis, under attack from enemy aircraft. Air Raid, by Archibald MacLeish. Air Raid went outibald McLeish. who could see the radio engineers acting out the air raid from their windows.

They could also see there was no real attack. Orson Welles doesn't perform an air raid, but we do have a photo of him visiting the rehearsal. He was curious about the mechanics. Four days later, on October 30th, his new radio play made its debut, a broadcast called War of the Worlds. අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි අපි Historians will probably never cease to argue over what exactly transpired in the bunker beneath the Chancellery during those last days of the Third Reich. But now, with the release of the final papers of Operation Myth, that infamous 1946 Soviet investigatory report, there is no longer any need to speculate over what it was that Hitler, Eva Braun, and Dr. Goebbels were reading during their final moments.

When it became clear that the siege wasn't going to end anytime soon, Hitler had ordered a box of the classics of high German literature to be brought down into the bunker. But somehow the box got switched with a carton of books from the 1937 degenerate art show. It was an entire box of books and magazines written by Jews and homosexuals. Hitler was furious, but there was nothing he could do. The Soviets were closing in and there was no one who could be spared to look for a missing

box full of Goethe and Hölderlin. But Hitler desperately wanted something to read. So on April 25th, he broke down and began rummaging through the box, hoping that maybe he could find something that wasn't entirely Jewish or gay. But to his dismay, he discovered that his dog had been using the box as a toilet. Now Hitler was really furious. He took the box outside and emptied the books onto the rubbish heap. He was so mad he almost didn't notice that slim volume

that had somehow escaped his canine's bowel movements and urinary excretions. It was a copy of the 1936 Zeitrift für Sozialwahrschung, a journal published by a bunch of German Jewish intellectuals living in exile. The journal contained one long essay entitled The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproducibility by Walter Benjamin. This was definitely something Hitler would never choose to read on his own. But beggars can't be choosers. So Hitler brought the journal back into the bunker and showed it to Goebbels. Goebbels was aghast when he heard the say that he wanted the two of them to read and discuss Walter Benjamin's essay together.

Do you know who Walter Benjamin is? Goebbels shouted. No, Hitler replied. I don't. Goebbels gave his fuhrer the lowdown. Walter Benjamin was a Jewish intellectual who left Germany when the Nazis came to power. He wrote essays about decadent writers like Proust, Kafka, Baudelaire, and Bertolt Brecht. He hated the Nazis, and he wrote hideous things about them from his perch in Paris. When the French capital was finally sacked, the Gestapo seized his apartment, and they discovered essays on everything from Donald Duck to hashish.

Walter Benjamin himself committed suicide on the Spanish border when it became apparent that he would be turned over to the Nazis for lack of a French exit visa. Goebbels pleaded with Hitler to return the essay to the rubbish heap, but Hitler was adamant, and so, on the night of April 30th, the two sat down together and began reading the work of art in the age of Mechanical Reproducibility. Walter Benjamin's essay begins with the thesis that the mechanically reproduced work of art is something radically different from the reproduced art of the past.

He says it makes no sense to speak of originals when discussing photographs or films, for the relationship between the photograph and the negative is totally different than the relationship between the photograph and the negative is totally different than the relationship between the painting and the copy. But what Benjamin finds most interesting about this new relationship is the disintegration of the aura and the exposure of a lack of authenticity in the work of art. So far, so good. Hitler's able to follow along, but, he asks his minister of propaganda,

is Benjamin arguing that this disintegration is a good thing? Yes, Goebbels replies. My reading is that Benjamin believes that the aura and the belief in authenticity inherent in traditional works of art are what keep them firmly in the possession of the elites and allowed oppressive ideologies to control them. And, Goebbels continues, Benjamin believes that the artworks of the future, the ones that will evolve from new media,

will, by lacking aura and authority, not only have the power to emancipate themselves from control, but they will also assist in the very emancipation of the masses. But how, Hitler asks. He's starting to think that reading this essay wasn't such a hot idea. Well, for example, Goebbels says, Benjamin believes the film is one of these new artworks. And he believes that film is something that, by lacking an aura and an authority,

will expand the mind of the audience to the point where the audience will one day relate to the film in a way that allows it to think beyond the commodity value of artistic experience. Benjamin believes that in the future, the audience will cease to be merely the receiver of cultural meaning, but will instead become an empowered producer of cultural meaning. But that's dreadful, Hitler exclaims. That goes against everything I stand for. And to think I let you make all those movies. Goebbels rolls his eyes. What do you mean, mein fuhrer? Benjamin is wrong. I am your minister of propaganda. Trust me. I know all about the production of meaning, I mean, where does he think films come from? The Moscow Central Planning Committee?

But Goebbels, Hitler says, it doesn't matter if they are instruments of fascism or instruments of socialism. The point is that they sow the idea that authority is something that does not have to be taken seriously, something open to interpretation. Oh, God, Goebbels. Hitler moans. Think of our children. They'll have no respect for authority or tradition. I can see it now. Little blonde German boys and girls marching through the streets demanding that they be taken seriously as producers of meaning. It's dreadful. Oh, God, it's just dreadful. No, no, Mein Führer. Goebbels pounds his fist on the table. Benjamin is wrong.

The production of meaning will always be controllable. And if the youth want to believe that there is something empowering in the watching of films, so be it. They should be allowed to deceive themselves, especially if it means they will forget about the real mechanisms of control, the means of production. Mindfuer, I don't want to boast, but I believe that I have shown the world that total control of media is indeed possible, even in the age of mechanical reproducibility. People are sheep, and people will always be sheep. And if they want to believe this empowerment cock and bull, so be it. It will only make our job easier.

But Hitler was not convinced. He stayed up all night weeping over Walter Benjamin's ideas and their seeming inevitability. And in the morning, he painted a final watercolor and then put a gun into his mouth and blew out the back of his skull. Goebbels spent the following day writing a rebuttal to Walter Benjamin. He explained in detail how film was at its core a fascist art form and how naive it was to believe, as Benjamin did, that film would emancipate the masses. Far from it, the film he wrote would guarantee their internal enslavement. He described his vision of the future. Millions and millions of captivated spectators all staring at a screen upon which his descendants would project images of fairies and sugar plums. He called his essay the magnificent aura of the film.

Goebbels spent all day on his essay, but when night fell, he realized that it was, unfortunately, a total betrayal of his profession. So he burned the manuscripts in the fireplace. Then he killed his wife Magda and his six daughters. And finally, with a flourish, he took his wife Magda and his six daughters. And finally, with a flourish, he took his own life. I don't think that the blur between reality and fiction is new at all. I think it's something we've always toyed with as human beings. And sometimes the best way to define what is true is by using fiction. The blurring of fiction and reality is central to the art practice of Lynn Hirschman Leeson. You'll find a reference to it in almost everything she does,

including her latest film, Vertigo. In Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo, Kim Novak plays a real woman named Judy who's playing the part of a fake woman named Madeline, and Jimmy Stewart plays the detective determined to turn Judy into Madeline. In Lynn Hirschman's Vertigo, the real Kim Novak tells us Hitchcock was also consumed with creating this female fake. He was obsessed with it, obsessed with the look. He knew exactly what he wanted.

It was as if he was playing the part of Jimmy Stewart. Vertigoast was made for San Francisco's Legion of Honor, a really important location in Vertigo. Lynn's film played on the exact same wall on which hung the painting of Carlotta, who was haunting Madeline. This painting was a film prop. It wasn't real. But it was real to art historian Natasha Boas.

I really actually came back later in my life to see if the painting was here and was part of the collection. I really believed it was here. Boas is one of the women we meet in Vertigo's who talk about their relationship with the real and the fake. And she delivers my favorite insight of the film. We aren't at war with the fake. We're like Jimmy Stewart. We prefer it. I don't really believe in authenticity. I don't believe in the real. I feel like the stand-in object can be more real

and create more desire than the object itself. The fraudulent is much more appealing than our perception of what the truth is. Vertigost ends with a number of women dressed up as Madeline, wandering the streets of San Francisco. Lynn Hirschman leases home since the 1960s. And since the 1980s, America's tech capital. She's taken full advantage of the technology boom. I really benefited a lot from all of the technology slumps because there were a lot

of out-of-work programmers that then became interested in just doing things for the sake of doing it with no monetary return. Yeah, yeah. I really want to know about how your relationship with the real and the fake has changed as technology has gotten better. What new possibilities have opened up to you that are specific to technology, especially since so much of the work you did was pioneering work that utilized interactivity, live streaming, artificial intelligence? True. Thank you for recognizing that because that fact often escapes the history books. I mean, I started working with AI in 1995, and we created the first AI work around 2000. And Siri was born in 2012.

And our project, both Agent Ruby and D Dina do far more than Siri does. Agent Ruby and Dina were both chatbots. And Lynn is right that they could do more than Siri. For example, Agent Ruby's mood would be affected by how many people were talking to it at once. And Dina ran for election. Dina is an artificially intelligent bot running for telepresident, waging a campaign for virtual election. That's Robata, a tour bot guide you'll find on Lynn Hirschman Leeson's Secret Agents DVD.

You can also see some of these early technology projects, like Dina and Tilly, a doll with webcams in her eyes that live-streamed on the internet in 1996. whatever environment she's in. Users thereby become virtual cyborgs seeing through the mechanisms of the net and the doll. Some of her earliest work was so advanced, curators didn't know what to do with it. In 1966, she had a series of pieces called Breathing Machines in an exhibit at Berkeley University Art Museum. They were removed. As the university put it,

sound is not art. Oh, there you are. I've been waiting for you all day. The breathing machines were sculptures of Lynn's head painted black that used motion sensors so the head would start talking to the viewer as they approached. I'm so glad that you've come to see me. I've never met anybody else quite like you. After Lynn was kicked out of this exhibit, she rented a hotel room, a space of her own, safe from the closed minds of curators. And she filled this room with artifacts of a fake person. This was the birth of Roberta Brightmore. Roberta Brightmore was a private performance about the construction of a fictional person who lived in real life in real time.

Surveillance photographs, artifacts such as personal checks and a driver's license, psychiatric records, and discarded clothing, as well as ephemera, provide credible evidence of her reality. There were many similarities between Lynn and Roberta. Both of them moved to San Francisco from Ohio to make their fortunes. But they were totally separate people. Roberta went to her own psychiatrist and worked her own job as a secretary to pay her rent at her own apartment. Roberta also went out on dates. Lynn would put on a blonde wig like Judy in Vertigo and bring a hidden recorder.

Besides, you're very attractive anyway. Do you think so? Do you think so? No, I don't think so. Oh, come on, really? Lynn also created a few male alter egos, art critics, Herbert Good, Prudence Juris, and Gay Abandon. And these men would write reviews for journals and newspapers like Art Week.

Often these fictional critics disagreed, but they nearly always mentioned the work of Lynn Hirschman in their columns, thereby allowing her access to galleries and museum exhibitions. For me, this gets to the core of Lynn Hirschman Leeson's practice. She's playing around with fakes, but she's also deadly serious about creating things she wants to be real. It was kind of a little joke, you know, that I would do this. And the fact that very quickly these critics were taken seriously,

and museum directors and curators were writing to these critics and asking them to review shows. So, I mean, it revealed to me kind of the underbelly of that whole system. And I don't think it was any more dishonest than turning women down from being taken seriously. Last night, there was a fire on Powell Street. Although there were flames and smoke leaping from every window of the San Francisco Academy of Art building and four fire trucks arrived with sirens screaming, it was a false alarm. How could that happen? Well, Lynn Hirschman of the Academy of Art is here to explain that.

How could that happen? Was there a fire last night? Well, there was and there wasn't. Another amazing project that uses technology to blend the real and the fake is called Fireworks. We had rear-projected film so that when you were on the street and stood and looked at it, it looked like the building was both on fire and filling with water. How many projectors does that take? We have 12 projectors and fog and fog juice and two live actors.

And they go through the sequence of running back and forth on the third floor and jumping out the window into the fog. It's difficult for me to imagine any artist getting away with something like this today. Well, we did get fire permits. I don't know what happened to them, but we warned them that this was going to be happening. I think the one that you couldn't get away with now is Roberta, because I did it, you know, in 72, there was no computers. Somebody actually tried it in the 80s,

and they were arrested for identity theft and for fraud. Because there were no computers and people couldn't check that I was getting all these bank accounts and credit cards on a non-existent person, I got away with it. In 1978, Lynn Hirschman Leeson gave Roberta Brightmore a pretty amazing send-off, a funeral in Italy. It was a well-deserved ending for one of the greatest real fakes ever created by an artist.

But after talking with Lynn, I see her death differently. She was a victim. She was an early victim of the computer. You have been listening to Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything. This installment is called

Where Does Real Art Come From? You can find more information on the work of Lynn Hirschman-Leason, as well as the old-time radio broadcasts mentioned in the show, at theoryofeverythingpodcast.com. The Theory of Everything is a proud founding member of Radiotopia from PRX, home to some of the world's best podcasts. Find them all at radiotopia.fm. Radiotopia from PRX.