Martin Lang

This article explores the complex relationship between socially engaged art, public funding, and political agendas within the United Kingdom. It addresses the central research question: to what extent can socially engaged art maintain its artistic autonomy while advancing political and community agendas? Using interpretive analysis that combines case studies and policy review informed by critical theory, the article examines examples such as the UNIQLO Tate Play commissions at Tate Modern, the Turner Prize, and the funding policies of Arts Council England during the New Labour and Coalition Government eras. Drawing on the theoretical debate between Claire Bishop and Grant Kester, the article examines tensions between autonomy, ethics, and participation in these examples. Furthermore, it posits alternative models of “militant art,” exemplified by collectives like Women on Waves, The Laboratory of Insurrectionary Imagination, the Voina Group, and Grupo Etcétera. These groups challenge dominant narratives by combining political commitment with artistic autonomy. The findings call for a more pluralistic understanding of socially engaged art—one that embraces both collaborative and confrontational practices while resisting institutional co-optation.

This chapter focusses on Martin Lang's ongoing practiced-based research project "The Truth in Painting 1993", which employs painting, photography and digital manipulation brought together in pictures that depict events from 1993. Each painting in the series contains an amalgamation of analogue painterly marks, printed scans of paintings and digital painting. The projects anticipates that both the lack of certainty around the mediums used, and the occasions depicted in the works, will spur viewers to question notions of socially constructed and mind-independent truths connected to incidents of that time. In this essay, Lang frames his work in relation to ideas of slippage of the work of art as a single, unique, entity in Jacques Derrida's The Truth in Painting (1978) and Enrico Terrone's concept of "standards of correctness" in "The Post-truth in Painting" (2019). This positions Lang's project in a post-truth world, where the "truth is out there", but which cannot always be clearly defined and understood.

This chapter applies ‘The Decline and Fall of the Spectacle-Commodity Economy’ – the Situationist account of the Watts Rebellion (Los Angeles, 1965) – to the August riots (England, 2011) and the global Occupy movement. It draws two conclusions: that both May ’68 and Occupy were formed by the political violence that preceded them; and that, although the Situationist essay makes problematic claims about race, its assessment of the Spectacle-Commodity Economy remains valuable: in fact, if combined with intersectional theory, it can provide a useful counterbalance to identity politics that can prevent what Alain Badiou calls an ‘immediate riot’ from becoming a ‘historical riot’ by fragmenting mass social movements and undermining unity.

This article makes two main claims: that Debord’s concept of the ‘integrated spectacle’ is related to end of History narratives; and that the related concept of ‘disinformation’ is manifested in new forms of media-driven warfare. These claims are substantiated through a comparative analysis between Debord’s texts and contemporary politics, primarily as described by Adam Curtis and by the RETORT collective. The resulting understanding of our contemporary politics is a situation where subjects who appear to be free, are in fact only free to choose between competing brands of neo-liberalism that manipulate and baffle in order to obfuscate their true agendas. This situation is termed a ‘spectacular malaise’. The article then critiques post-Marxist claims to a re-birth of History and therefore a potential end to the spectacular malaise. It argues that the Arab Spring and Occupy movement did not signal an end to the end of History, as they were unable to articulate an alternative vision. This situation is compared to the last days of the Soviet Union, when change also seemed unimaginable. It identifies Mark Fisher’s call for activists to demonstrate alternative possibilities and reveal contingency in apparently natural orders to counter the spectacular malaise. Three art collectives are considered as potential candidates to take up this challenge: Women on Waves, Voina, and SUPERFLEX. The article concludes that while making actual social and political change is useful for demonstrating alternative possibilities, it is art’s symbolic value that reveals contingency and strikes at the heart of the spectacular malaise.

This essay asks how Hazlitt’s notion of artistic genius stands up today, where connoisseurs are unfashionable, expertise is distrusted and popular opinion is often courted and highly valued in the generation and reception of art. It does this by analysing Hazlitt’s concepts of gusto and “aesthetic democracy”. First, Hazlitt’s concept of aesthetic democracy is applied to the painting of Thomas Kinkade, the reassessment of ‘slaver’ statues and a conceptual project by Komar and Melamid to highlight some problems with popular opinion in the assessment of art and with collaborative practices that cede authorship to participants (what I call “the democratisation of art”). Then, Hazlitt’s concept of gusto is scrutinised to argue for the importance of the role of the individual artist’s voice in the production of artworks. The article makes two conclusions. First that, Hazlitt’s separation of aesthetic democracy from political democracy negates ethical concerns about “undemocratic art”. Secondly, that Hazlitt’s concepts of artistic genius and gusto remind us of the value of the artist-individual and the aesthetic worth of their undiluted input. Consequently, Hazlitt’s concepts of artistic genius and gusto are useful tools to critically assess contemporary art, against the prevailing current of art criticism, allowing us to assert the immanent importance of art and the role of the artist in its creation.

In 2008 an Iraqi artist was waterboarded as performance art. In 2010 artists upturned police cars in Russia. But what exactly do we mean by militant art and aesthetics? Bringing together the philosophy of art and politics, Martin Lang provides a comprehensive examination of militant art activism: its history, its advocates and the aesthetic theory behind it. Protest art is not a new concept and yet this book argues that after the terrorist attacks of 9/11 distinctly 21st-century forms of art activism emerged. On the one hand these became militant as artists retained belief in the possibility of radical political change through art. On the other hand, this belief developed in a hostile environment, when anti-terror legislations reclassified activists and artists as terrorists. Through first-hand interviews and experiences, Militant Aesthetics sheds light on numerous international case studies of modern art activism and the different ways they can be classified as militant. Many artists and collectives, including Grupo Etcétera in Buenos Aries, are prepared to break the law and risk arrest for their art. Others like Thomas Bresolin's Militant Training Camp utilise military uniforms in violent performances that connect with public anger, and artists such as Zthoven in the Czech Republic occupy, hack, antagonise and disrupt in increasingly militant ways. Combining these examples with the pioneering thought of Badiou, Žižek, Rancière and Mouffe, as well as up-to-date scholarship from Bishop, Léger and others, Lang investigates the instances, attributes and rules of militant art in order to introduce a new overall theory of 21st-century militant aesthetics.

This paper examines the current interest in ‘art activism’, and the relationship between artistic expression and civil disobedience. Boris Groys has argued that the lack of political dissidence within contemporary art is not down to the ineffectiveness of the aesthetic, but the far more effective intrusion of the aesthetic by the political. As such, the political question of civil disobedience is necessarily an aesthetic one. At the same time, this raises problems for how politically effective artistic dissidence can be. As Grindon argues, if art activism often only mimics ‘real’ social activism, it remains within the boundaries of the gallery system with no real consequences. Most art activism fails to be effective civil disobedience, in this sense, as it already operates within the confines of pre-established curatorial spaces. As such, the use of art for the purposes of civil disobedience cannot be, then, mere aestheticism, but rather must act as ‘an insight into the transformed mechanisms of conquest’ : a conflict over the topology of disobedience which exposes the interrelation of aesthetics and politics through medium, space and archive. This paper critically assesses attempts in contemporary art to re-appropriate the symbolic dimension of dissidence as an aesthetic; in particular the use of militancy, asceticism and dissidence as an attempt to move beyond mere counter-political protest and towards a reclaiming of aesthetics from the intrusions of politics. It uses as a specific case example Militant Training Camp, a social experimental performance camp held at Arcadia Missa Gallery in London, March 2012. This weeklong performance piece was designed to explore the activity and mind-set of militant groups and the idea of non-pacifist activity within wider social movements. Engaging with not only the tradition of anarchist activism, but also more recent artistic engagements with civil disobedience, the camp involved a residential ascetic ‘training programme’ followed by a series of violent performances open to the public, often disturbing other sites of protest such as Anarchist theatres and Occupy sites in the process. The paper uses first-hand documentary evidence and critical reflection on the event in order to argue that, as both an act of civil disobedience, and an exploration of the limits of its aesthetic treatment, the event raises two specific issues surrounding the notion of disobedience and its conceptual possibilities. The first issue is the representation of rage within the context of art activism. Here, the performance is discussed with particular reference to Sloterdijk’s arguments that argues that militancy and revolt operate under a ‘thymotic economy’. However, Sloterdijk’s re-appropriation of the thymotic – a conceptualising of ‘rage’ which is not absorbed within the sublimination of psychology or Habermasian symbolism – is not as simple as offering an alternative, ‘non-symbolic’ rage. Given that modern militancy is always subject to containment, the second issue raised is the formative role of ‘curating’ acts of disobedience. Using the work of Groys on aesthetics and power, the paper assesses how ‘events’ of civil disobedience such as Militant Training Camp are located, represented, circulated and even stored, and the ways in which they might resist their reduction to or supplementing of a further economy which conceals the formative ‘rage’ of disobedience.