Artificial Paradises
The passion for the lost paradise, a place overflowing with beauty, harmony
and exalted pleasure, is a human passion that never ceases, and is at times
uncompromising to the point of violence. The amount of force we are willing
to exert on ourselves and our surroundings in order to return to that same
perfect place that cradles us in its bosom is apt to crush us.
Meirav Heiman returns to the lost paradises with her camera lens - places
created by artificial means and made to suit the immediate, extroverted and
demanding modern taste. Meirav Heiman’s paradises are tourist attractions,
exotic guest rooms and garish almost toxic amusement parks in shopping
malls, places where the lost paradise has become a commodity one can buy,
spend a moment in, absorb and be absorbed into. “The soul of man is full of
lusts: he has vast excesses of them.” Thus proclaims the French poet
Charles Baudelaire,(Charles Baudelaire 1821-1867) in his book “Artificial
Paradises,”1 dedicated to describing the intoxicating influences of hashish,
opium and wine. According to Baudelaire the great passion of man is “ to be
delivered, if only for a moment, from the material body in which he dwells, and
‘to attain paradise in an instant’.” The desire to reach the lost paradise by
artificial means is, to a known extent, a twisted desire, but in Baudelaire’s
opinion, not groundless. On the contrary “ common sense teaches us that the
existence of things on this earth is only a tenuous existence, and that true
reality exists solely in dreams.” If so, what is more logical than the artificial
creation of a dream of happiness?
The paradises of Heiman are the industrial, capitalistic, lawful and available
sequel for every consumer of Baudelaire’s paradises. Like hallucinations from
hashish or opium, so too are the tourist attractions of our time – they seek to
flood the visitor with an intense experience of sharpened senses and
intoxicating colors. They seek to be the pivotal point that connects us to richer
and more primal levels of existence, like those lost to us long ago or that exist
only in our yearning imagination.
1
Yediot Achronot, 2008. Translated into Hebrew: Dori Manor
I read Baudelaire’s descriptions of the hallucinations of hashish, and am
amazed to discover how they correspond with Heiman’s photographs. A
“man of letters” who Baudelaire quotes tells of his experiences (according to
Dori Manor, the Hebrew translator, most researchers of Baudelaire’s works
are certain that the mysterious man of letters is the novelist and poet
Théophile Gautier, while others are sure it is no other than Charles Baudelaire
himself). He emerges from his home while still under the influence of the
substance, and is flooded by feelings of extreme cold, which become more
intense “Finally, the chill that enveloped me was so absolute, so
encompassing, that all my thoughts froze, if one can say that. I became a
thinking block of ice: I looked at myself as if at a statue chiseled into a large
glacier; this insane illusion exalted my pride, giving me feelings of spiritual
wellbeing that words do not suffice to describe.” (Ibid, page 33). Are
Heiman’s photographed figures, turning their empty gaze towards the human
observer, not similar to glaciers that have become part of their silent
surroundings? Is the bride, standing frozen in her pure white dress like a tall
and strange statue against the background of an artificial stone arch, not like
a statue carved into a great glacier that is solemnly patronizing its
surroundings totally?
“Hashish always requires great excesses of light,” writes Baudelaire’s man of
letters. It craves after everything that illuminates, after all gold that abounds,
all flowing magnificence. In short, no light is foreign to it: bright light that
washes like a river, or hidden sparks that cling like straw to every point and
protrusion, magnificent palace chandeliers, votive candle flames dancing in
the virginal month of May or the fading pink cascades of sunset.” (Ibid, page
34).
Heiman too desires an excess of light, and it is one of the series strongest
characteristics. From the depths of the corridor of the golden hall of mirrors
she photographs, clear light bursts forth. Enchanted light refracts and glows
in the light blue watery firmament of the mermaids’ world. It seems that light
hypnotizes Heiman. Her love of color in all its hues leads her to places no
less sweet and artificial than the drug induced hallucinations of Baudelaire.
Baudelaire’s man of letters, under the intoxicating influence, watches theatre
and closely examines the actors. “ I saw in the observed not only the most
miniscule of their props, such as the pattern on the fabrics, the seams of the
costumes, the buttons etc, but also the seam line between truth and falsehood
facing them, the white, blue and red and all the remaining stuff of makeup.”
(Ibid, page 35). Heiman too does not attempt to convince the viewer that
these are actual visions. She is aware of the fact that the sights that fascinate
her are deceptive. In her work, the seam lines between truth and lies are
revealed. They are the white makeup on the face of the girl at Ramat
Hanetifim, the electric exit signs, the lighting elements, and the rope barriers,
which the camera does not avoid. Her awareness of the artificiality of the
sights she photographs is her self-awareness of the artificiality of her activity
as an artist. The falseness of the situation is seen in the falsehood of the
artistic action and there is no need to conceal it but just to enjoy it. The sense
of intoxication of the visitor in the artificial paradises is not meant to be
harmed by exposure to the artificial aspect of the situation. On the contrary, it
is part of the experience, part of the hidden pleasure of control in a world
created expressly to fill all desires.
Is it possible to attain real happiness through artificial paradises? Baudelaire
himself is hesitant about this. “Man consequently seeks to create paradise for
himself through various fermented concoctions and drinks - and thus acts like
the madman who substitutes real furniture and actual gardens with an
illustrated and framed décor,” writes the French poet. “This endless distortion
of meaning is in itself that, which, in my opinion, is the cause of all sinful
hyperbole.” (Ibid, page 16). Heiman too is not optimistic. Her artificial
paradises empty the photographed characters of any humanity and content
and turn them into part of the scenery. The characters submit to the scene,
becoming part of its aesthetic weave. Their tranquility is a tranquility of
imperviousness and assimilation. The colorful attractiveness of the situation
does not cover up the absurdity and the alienation and even accentuates it.
Her artificial paradises are devoid of an emotional aspect. In their exquisite
addictive faked sensations, they are a faithful representation of the spirit of the
time.
Hagar Yanai