{"id":9844,"date":"2014-12-10T12:47:58","date_gmt":"2014-12-10T12:47:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/?post_type=magazines&p=9844"},"modified":"2015-12-20T17:41:42","modified_gmt":"2015-12-20T17:41:42","slug":"of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation","status":"publish","type":"magazines","link":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/","title":{"rendered":"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/em>\u00a0\u2013 The Otolith Group<\/a>\u2019s 34-minute film essay on the fragile dream of pan-Africanism \u2013 is neither quiet nor sunny. If anything, it resounds with a melancholic sombreness, born of hindsight and hope \u2013 a series of echoes and reverberations that seem to animate and agitate the totems of the past so that they are no longer still or silent. At the heart of the film is an astronomical conceit. It relates to an intermittent solar phenomenon \u2013 occurring in an eleven-year cycle \u2013 when the sun\u2019s surface cools sufficiently to allow scientists to study it. During one such period, between November 1964 and November 1965, many countries, including emerging independent African states, issued commemorative stamps to mark this significant moment. These spheres of saturated yellow and red with spiky, radiating rays \u2013 reproduced in the film \u2013 seem to shine a beneficent light onto the orbiting earth. But down below, despite similar philatelic symbolisation \u2013 stars, spheres, roundels and flags proliferate on the commemorative and celebratory stamps of decolonisation and independence \u2013 the territorial and political transformation of the unquiet continent far exceeds the capacity of these miniscule propaganda prints to adequately tell its tale.<\/p>\n

\"The

The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch<\/p><\/div>\n

It is this disjunction between the minute materiality of the postage stamps and the epic events they commemorate that the film dramatises so brilliantly. Taking its formal cue from the period-specific design and display value of these small but significant prints,\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i>\u00a0blows up the scale of the stamp, allowing it to fill the screen. Stamp and screen become one, flattening out and filtering the archival and documentary footage with which it is interwoven and juxtaposed. The stamps themselves are interesting: we notice their schematic design, the simplified graphics of 1960s commercial art and advertising; and the standardised lettering and modernist fonts which situate them firmly in the American context from which they were generated and distributed. Why, asks the narrator, are the symbols of pan-African liberation and decolonisation designed on Wall Street? Who is the \u201cNew York Philatelic Society\u201d? What is the pan-African Pop that the stamps seem to symbolise and suggest? These are not only issues of design and decorum. They point to the question of power and the fraught issues of allegiance and alignment for the emerging African nations, poised during the early years of the Cold War between their old colonial occupiers (from which they needed to liberate themselves, mentally and economically) and the new power brokers of East and West, each vying for prominence and influence. At the same time they signal the formal and symbolic languages through which pan-Africanism found its robust, if short-lived, voice.<\/p>\n

At times the film probes and problematises the visual language of the stamps through extraction and enlargement. Take for example the stamp designed to mark Ghana\u2019s opening of parliament in 1957 which incorporates a photograph showing Queen Elizabeth II on the throne flanked by newly-empowered Ghanaians attired in national dress and British military personnel in uniform. The tiny grainy photograph embedded in the heart of the stamp grows to fill the screen. Its black-and-white facticity echoes with the documentary footage used throughout the film, while the interspersed stamps punctuate and puncture its flow. For,\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i>\u00a0moves between the scanned flatness of the commemorative stamp and the apparent veracity and three-dimensionality of \u201cofficial\u201d filmed coverage of \u201cnews-worthy\u201d events.<\/p>\n

\"The

The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch<\/p><\/div>\n

The archival footage ranges from the\u00a0Bandung conference of non-aligned states in 1957<\/a>\u00a0to Africa Freedom Day in Ghana in 1959, from the OAU conference in Addis Ababa in 1963 to the commemoration of the Volta River Project in 1966. In the spliced reportage, extracted segments of history are mediated via the dulcet tones of Path\u00e9 News and the distinctive accents of the BBC, creating a parade of public figures that come to stand for the historical events themselves. But the partiality of history (all male, all Anglophone, all suited and silked) is suggested by the seepage from scanned stamp to found footage. For a filter of colour, drawn from the chromatic intensity of the miniature stamps (themselves peripatetic palimpsests overprinted with numbers, letters and lines), washes over the documents of history creating a coloured haze or tint that flattens out and challenges their perceived veracity. The Pop palette \u2013 so evident in the postage stamps \u2013 seems to permeate the tonality and timbre of the documents of history. Awash with colour (vivid greens, putrid pinks, tangy oranges, mauves and yellows) the events of the past are here filled in with the period-specific tints that their black-and-white neutrality appears to mask.<\/p>\n

That the postage stamp should provide the iconic and material base for this filmic revisitation of the moment of decolonisation is interesting. And poignant, especially given that we are at the brink of its immanent obsolescence. We rarely see stamps in usage nowadays. Supplanted by the anonymity and mechanical efficiency of the franking machine that spits out our bank statements and junk mail with a charmless uniformity, stamps are fast becoming a thing of the past. Used on the occasional postcard or intermittent private letter, the printed postage stamp is an exotic remnant of a form of epistolary and economic exchange that barely survives, supplanted for the most part by email, Instagram, Internet banking and Skype.<\/p>\n

And so it\u2019s an apt moment to write the eulogy of the stamp. First regulated and standardised in Berne in the 1870s by the Universal Postal Union, stamps came to symbolise the modern network of international relations that capitalist modernity heralded. They were designed to both register national identity (with their heads of state, famous figures and \u201cindigenous\u201d flora and fauna) as well as secure universal markers of value so that goods and greetings could be efficiently sent and received. They depended on the industrial processes of printing and transportation that characterise the modern world. They registered the flow of money and unprecedented movement of people across an expanded globe in which currencies and cartographies were shifting. As such, they belong firmly in the culture and context of modernity. So too does the still-hopeful moment of decolonisation, aptly registered in the language and materiality of the circulating commemorative tokens, whose colour-coded shape and format (oddly global in design and resonance) provide material residues of the cataclysmic historical events that the newsreels so politely (and partially) relayed. That the stamps themselves are over-determined signifiers whose design and imagery situate them firmly within the languages of modernism, points to the humanist universalism that informed the rhetoric of liberation and human rights so evident at Bandung and beyond.<\/p>\n

It is this that\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i>\u00a0so subtly teaches us. Decolonisation and modernism, the mythic and the minute cohabit on the screen so that their relationship is both exposed and questioned. Whether scanned or found, the film places the stuff of history before us, allowing the dynamics of diminution and enlargement, explication and exploration, flatness and depth to oscillate and interact in open but choreographed juxtaposition. Shown at the Delfina Foundation in London alongside the Otolith Group\u2019s own selection of formative screen-based work, each of which registers either the moment of decolonisation or anti-colonial struggles and their traces, the effect is powerful. The installation includes Ren\u00e9 Vautrier\u2019s searing 1950s indictment of the French instrumentalisation of colonial peoples; Olga Poliakoff\u2019s short montage of drawings produced by exiled and orphaned Algerian children; Harun Farocki\u2019s late 1960s agitprop meditation on news manipulation and control; and Bejamin Tiven\u2019s recent exploration of technology and the archive in Kenya. All of these provide the curatorial framework through which the Otolith Group prefers to be seen. The effect is exquisite, the affect tragic, the experience timely.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun\u00a0\u00bb – The Otolith Group, Delfina Foundation, London: October 10 – November 8, 2014<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00ab\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun\u00a0\u00bb – The Otolith Group, Casco – Office for Art, Design and Theory, Utrecht: November 14, 2014 – January 25, 2015<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Tamar Garb<\/i><\/b>\u00a0is Durning Lawrence Professor in the History of Art at the University College London.\u00a0Her research interests have focused on questions of gender and sexuality, the woman artist and the body in nineteenth and early twentieth century French art and she has published extensively in this field.<\/i><\/p>\n

<\/p>","protected":false},"featured_media":9849,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"tags":[295,296,144],"magazine-type":[25],"class_list":["post-9844","magazines","type-magazines","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","tag-delfina-foundation","tag-otolith-group","tag-tamar-garb","magazine-type-rezension"],"core_raw":{"post_title":"[:de]Von Staaten und Briefmarken: Die Otolith Group in der Delfina Foundation[:en]The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation[:fr]Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation[:]","post_content":"[:de]\"\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun\"<\/em>\u00a0<\/a>\u00a0\u2013 das 34-min\u00fctige Filmessay der Otolith Group \u00fcber den fragilen Traum des Panafrikanismus \u2013 ist weder still noch sonnig. Im Gegenteil strahlt es eine melancholische D\u00fcsterkeit aus, geboren aus der R\u00fcckschau und der Hoffnung \u2013 eine Reihe von Echos und Widerhallen, die die Totems der Vergangenheit zu beleben und aufzur\u00fchren scheinen, so dass sie nicht mehr ruhig sind oder schweigen. Im Zentrum des Films steht ein astronomisches Concetto. Es bezieht sich auf ein periodisches Ph\u00e4nomen der Sonne, das in einem elfj\u00e4hrigen Zyklus auftritt, wobei sich die Sonnenoberfl\u00e4che soweit abk\u00fchlt, dass Wissenschaftler sie untersuchen k\u00f6nnen. W\u00e4hrend einer dieser Phasen zwischen November 1964 und November 1965 brachten viele L\u00e4nder, darunter aufstrebende unabh\u00e4ngige afrikanische Staaten, Gedenkmarken heraus, um diesen bedeutenden Moment zu begehen. Die Kreise in sattem Gelb und Rot, umgeben von spitzen Strahlenkr\u00e4nzen \u2013 die im Film wiedergegeben werden \u2013 scheinen die umkreisende Erde in ein segenbringendes Licht zu tauchen. Doch unten auf der Erde \u00fcbersteigt trotz \u00e4hnlicher philatelistischer Symbolisierung \u2013 auf den Gedenkmarken der Dekolonisierung und Unabh\u00e4ngigkeit wimmelt es von Sternen, Kreisen, B\u00f6gen und Flaggen \u2013 der territoriale und politische Wandel des unruhigen Kontinents bei weitem das Verm\u00f6gen dieser winzigen Propagandadrucke, seine Geschichte ad\u00e4quat wiederzugeben.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_9845\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"589\"]\"The The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch[\/caption]\r\n\r\nEben diese Disjunktion zwischen der winzigen Stofflichkeit der Briefmarken und den monumentalen Ereignissen, derer sie gedenken, dramatisiert der Film auf so brillante Weise. Formal inspiriert durch das zeitspezifische Design und den Ausstellungswert dieser kleinen, jedoch bedeutsamen Drucke, vergr\u00f6\u00dfert In the Year of the Quiet Sun die Briefmarke in ihrem Ma\u00dfstab und l\u00e4sst sie die Leinwand ausf\u00fcllen. Die Marke wird eins mit der Leinwand und ebnet und filtert das Archivmaterial und dokumentarische Bildmaterial, mit dem sie verwoben und dem sie gegen\u00fcbergestellt wird. Die Marken selbst sind interessant: bemerkenswert sind das schematische Design, die vereinfachte grafische Darstellung der Werbegrafik und Reklame der 1960er sowie die genormten Beschriftungen und modernen Schriftarten, die sie fest im amerikanischen Kontext verorten, aus dem sie entstanden und verbreitet wurden. Warum, fragt sich die Erz\u00e4hlerin, werden die Symbole panafrikanischer Befreiung und Dekolonisierung auf der Wall Street entworfen? Wer ist die \u201eNew York Philatelic Society\u201c? Was ist der panafrikanische Pop, den die Briefmarken zu symbolisieren und zu suggerieren scheinen? Hier geht es nicht nur um Design und Etikette. Sie verweisen auf die Frage der Macht und die problematischen Fragestellungen in Bezug auf Loyalit\u00e4t und politische Ausrichtung der aufstrebenden afrikanischen Nationen, die in den ersten Jahren des Kalten Krieges zwischen ihren ehemaligen kolonialen Besetzern (von denen sie sich mental und \u00f6konomisch befreien mussten) und den neuen Machthabern des Ostens und des Westens balancierten, die beide um Vorherrschaft und Einfluss wetteiferten. Gleichzeitig stehen sie f\u00fcr die formalen und symbolischen Sprachen, durch die der Panafrikanismus seine kr\u00e4ftige, wenn auch kurzlebige, Stimme fand.\r\n\r\nZuweilen erforscht und problematisiert der Film die Bildsprache der Marken durch Freistellung und Vergr\u00f6\u00dferung. Ein Beispiel ist die Briefmarke, die zur ghanaischen Parlamentser\u00f6ffnung im Jahre 1957 entworfen wurde, auf der ein Foto integriert ist, das K\u00f6nigin Elizabeth II. auf dem Thron zeigt, flankiert von frisch erm\u00e4chtigten Ghanaern in nationaler Tracht und britischen Milit\u00e4rs in Uniform. Das winzige k\u00f6rnige Foto, das in der Mitte der Briefmarke eingebettet ist, wird immer gr\u00f6\u00dfer, bis es die Leinwand ausf\u00fcllt. Seine schwarz-wei\u00dfe Tats\u00e4chlichkeit wiederholt sich im dokumentarischen Bildmaterial, das durchg\u00e4ngig im Film verwendet wird, w\u00e4hrend die eingestreuten Briefmarken seinen Fluss akzentuieren und durchbrechen. Denn In the Year of the Quiet Sun bewegt sich zwischen der eingescannten Flachheit der Gedenkmarke und der scheinbaren Wahrhaftigkeit und Dreidimensionalit\u00e4t der \u201eoffiziell\u201c gefilmten Berichterstattung \u201eberichtenswerter\u201c Ereignisse.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_9846\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"604\"]\"The The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch[\/caption]\r\n\r\nDas Archivmaterial reicht von der Bandung-Konferenz blockfreier Staaten im Jahre 1957<\/a> bis zum Africa Freedom Day in Ghana im Jahre 1959, von der OAU-Konferenz in Addis Abeba im Jahre 1963 bis zur Gedenkfeier des Volta River Project im Jahre 1966. In der gest\u00fcckelten Reportage werden Ausz\u00fcge der Geschichte durch die wohlklingenden Stimmen von Path\u00e9 News und die markanten Akzente der BBC vermittelt, wodurch eine Parade \u00f6ffentlicher Pers\u00f6nlichkeiten geschaffen wird, die f\u00fcr die historischen Ereignisse selbst stehen. Doch die Parteilichkeit der Geschichte (alle m\u00e4nnlich, alle anglophon, alle in Anzug und Krawatte) wird durch das suggeriert, was von der eingescannten Marke bis zum gefundenen Bildmaterial durchsickert. Denn ein Farbfilter, abgeleitet aus der Farbintensit\u00e4t der winzigen Marken (an sich reiselustige Palimpseste, \u00fcberbedruckt mit Zahlen, Schrift und Zeilen), \u00fcberschwemmt die historischen Dokumente und es entsteht ein farbiger Schleier oder eine T\u00f6nung, die ihre vermeintliche Wahrhaftigkeit verflacht und in Frage stellt. Die Pop-Palette \u2013 so offensichtlich bei den Briefmarken \u2013 scheint die Tonalit\u00e4t und Klangfarbe der historischen Dokumente zu durchdringen. Von Farbe durchflutet (lebendiges Gr\u00fcn, fauliges Pink, herbes Orange, Mauve und Gelb) sind die Ereignisse der Vergangenheit hier mit den Farbt\u00f6nen der damaligen Zeit erf\u00fcllt, welche von der schwarz-wei\u00dfen Neutralit\u00e4t scheinbar kaschiert werden.\r\n\r\nEs ist interessant, dass die Briefmarke die ikonische und materielle Grundlage f\u00fcr diese filmische R\u00fcckschau auf den Moment der Dekolonisierung sein sollte. Und auch bitter, vor allem wenn man bedenkt, dass uns ihre Veralterung unmittelbar bevorsteht. Heutzutage erleben wir die Briefmarke selten in Gebrauch. Verdr\u00e4ngt von der Anonymit\u00e4t und mechanischen Effizienz der Frankiermaschine, die unsere Ausz\u00fcge und Werbepost mit reizloser Einf\u00f6rmigkeit ausspuckt, geh\u00f6ren Briefmarken immer mehr der Vergangenheit an. F\u00fcr die vereinzelte Postkarte oder den gelegentlichen pers\u00f6nlichen Brief findet die gedruckte Briefmarke noch Verwendung, doch ist sie ein exotisches \u00dcberbleibsel einer Form des brieflichen und \u00f6konomischen Austauschs, die kaum noch \u00fcberlebt, da sie gr\u00f6\u00dftenteils von E-Mail, Instagram, Online-Banking und Skype verdr\u00e4ngt wurde.\r\n\r\nDaher ist dies der passende Moment, die Grabrede f\u00fcr die Briefmarke zu schreiben. Nachdem sie in den 1870er Jahren in Bern vom Weltpostverein erstmals reguliert und genormt wurden, wurden Briefmarken zum Symbol des modernen Netzwerks internationaler Beziehungen, die die kapitalistische Moderne verk\u00fcndete. Sie wurden entworfen, um sowohl die nationale Identit\u00e4t (mit ihren Staatsoberh\u00e4uptern, bekannten Pers\u00f6nlichkeiten und \u201eeinheimischer\u201c Flora und Fauna) einzuschreiben, als auch universelle Kennzeichen von Wertigkeit sicherzustellen, so dass G\u00fcter und Gr\u00fc\u00dfe effizient verschickt und empfangen werden konnten. Sie waren abh\u00e4ngig von den industriellen Prozessen des Drucks und des Transports, welche die moderne Welt kennzeichnen. Sie verzeichneten den Geldfluss und die beispiellose Bewegung von Menschen quer \u00fcber einen erweiterten Globus, auf dem sich W\u00e4hrungen und Kartografien ver\u00e4nderten. Daher geh\u00f6ren sie dezidiert zur Kultur und in den Kontext der Moderne. Dies gilt ebenso f\u00fcr den noch hoffnungsvollen Moment der Dekolonisierung, treffend festgehalten in der Sprache und Stofflichkeit der kursierenden Gedenksymbole, deren farbcodierte Formen und Formate (in Design und Resonanz merkw\u00fcrdig global) materielle \u00dcberreste der verheerenden historischen Ereignisse liefern, die die Wochenschauen so h\u00f6flich (und einseitig) \u00fcbertrugen. Dass die Briefmarken selbst \u00fcberbestimmte Vorboten sind, deren Design und Bildsprache sie fest in den Sprachen der Moderne verankern, weist auf den humanistischen Universalismus hin, der die Rhetorik von Befreiung und Menschenrechten beeinflusste, die in Bandung und dar\u00fcber hinaus so offenkundig war.\r\n\r\nDas ist es, was In the Year of the Quiet Sun uns auf so subtile Weise vermittelt. Dekolonisierung und Moderne, das Mythische und das Winzige gehen auf der Leinwand eine Gemeinschaft ein, so dass ihre Beziehung sowohl offengelegt als auch in Frage gestellt wird. Ob eingescannt oder gefunden breitet der Film den Stoff der Geschichte vor uns aus und l\u00e4sst die Dynamiken von Verkleinerung und Vergr\u00f6\u00dferung, Erl\u00e4uterung und Erforschung, Flachheit und Tiefe in einer offenen, jedoch choreografierten Gegen\u00fcberstellung pendeln und interagieren. Er wird in der Delfina Foundation in London gezeigt, neben einer eigenen Auswahl der Otolith Group von pr\u00e4genden filmischen Arbeiten, die jeweils entweder den Moment der Dekolonisierung oder antikoloniale K\u00e4mpfe und ihre Spuren aufzeichnen \u2013 mit beeindruckender Wirkung. Die Installation beinhaltet Ren\u00e9 Vautriers flammende Anklage gegen die franz\u00f6sische Instrumentalisierung kolonisierter V\u00f6lker aus den 1950ern; Olga Poliakoffs kurze Montage von Zeichnungen, gefertigt von exilierten und verwaisten algerischen Kindern; Harun Farockis Agitprop-Meditation zur Nachrichtenmanipulation und -kontrolle der sp\u00e4ten 1960er; und Bejamin Tivens k\u00fcrzliche Erforschung der Technologie und des Archivs in Kenia. Sie bilden alle den kuratorischen Rahmen, in den sich die Otolith Group vorzugsweise stellt. Die Wirkung ist herausragend, die Gem\u00fctsbewegung tragisch, die Erfahrung kommt zur rechten Zeit.\r\n\r\n.\r\n\r\n\"In the Year of the Quiet Sun\" - The Otolith Group, Delfina Foundation, London: October 10 - November 8, 2014<\/strong><\/a>\r\n\r\n\u00a0\"In the Year of the Quiet Sun\" - The Otolith Group, Casco - Office for Art, Design and Theory, Utrecht: November 14, 2014 - January 25, 2015<\/strong><\/a>\r\n\r\n.\r\n\r\nTamar Garb<\/strong> ist Durning Lawrence-Professorin in Kunstgeschichte am University College London.\u00a0 Schwerpunkte ihres Forschungsinteresses sind Fragen zu Gender und Sexualit\u00e4t, die Frau als K\u00fcnstlerin und der K\u00f6rper in der franz\u00f6sischen Kunst des neunzehnten und fr\u00fchen zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts. Sie hat zu diesen Themen umfangreich ver\u00f6ffentlicht.<\/em>[:en]\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/em>\u00a0\u2013 The Otolith Group<\/a>\u2019s 34-minute film essay on the fragile dream of pan-Africanism \u2013 is neither quiet nor sunny. If anything, it resounds with a melancholic sombreness, born of hindsight and hope \u2013 a series of echoes and reverberations that seem to animate and agitate the totems of the past so that they are no longer still or silent. At the heart of the film is an astronomical conceit. It relates to an intermittent solar phenomenon \u2013 occurring in an eleven-year cycle \u2013 when the sun\u2019s surface cools sufficiently to allow scientists to study it. During one such period, between November 1964 and November 1965, many countries, including emerging independent African states, issued commemorative stamps to mark this significant moment. These spheres of saturated yellow and red with spiky, radiating rays \u2013 reproduced in the film \u2013 seem to shine a beneficent light onto the orbiting earth. But down below, despite similar philatelic symbolisation \u2013 stars, spheres, roundels and flags proliferate on the commemorative and celebratory stamps of decolonisation and independence \u2013 the territorial and political transformation of the unquiet continent far exceeds the capacity of these miniscule propaganda prints to adequately tell its tale.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_9845\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"589\"]\"The The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch[\/caption]\r\n\r\nIt is this disjunction between the minute materiality of the postage stamps and the epic events they commemorate that the film dramatises so brilliantly. Taking its formal cue from the period-specific design and display value of these small but significant prints, In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i> blows up the scale of the stamp, allowing it to fill the screen. Stamp and screen become one, flattening out and filtering the archival and documentary footage with which it is interwoven and juxtaposed. The stamps themselves are interesting: we notice their schematic design, the simplified graphics of 1960s commercial art and advertising; and the standardised lettering and modernist fonts which situate them firmly in the American context from which they were generated and distributed. Why, asks the narrator, are the symbols of pan-African liberation and decolonisation designed on Wall Street? Who is the \u201cNew York Philatelic Society\u201d? What is the pan-African Pop that the stamps seem to symbolise and suggest? These are not only issues of design and decorum. They point to the question of power and the fraught issues of allegiance and alignment for the emerging African nations, poised during the early years of the Cold War between their old colonial occupiers (from which they needed to liberate themselves, mentally and economically) and the new power brokers of East and West, each vying for prominence and influence. At the same time they signal the formal and symbolic languages through which pan-Africanism found its robust, if short-lived, voice.\r\n\r\nAt times the film probes and problematises the visual language of the stamps through extraction and enlargement. Take for example the stamp designed to mark Ghana\u2019s opening of parliament in 1957 which incorporates a photograph showing Queen Elizabeth II on the throne flanked by newly-empowered Ghanaians attired in national dress and British military personnel in uniform. The tiny grainy photograph embedded in the heart of the stamp grows to fill the screen. Its black-and-white facticity echoes with the documentary footage used throughout the film, while the interspersed stamps punctuate and puncture its flow. For, In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i> moves between the scanned flatness of the commemorative stamp and the apparent veracity and three-dimensionality of \u201cofficial\u201d filmed coverage of \u201cnews-worthy\u201d events.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_9846\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"604\"]\"The The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch[\/caption]\r\n\r\nThe archival footage ranges from the Bandung conference of non-aligned states in 1957<\/a> to Africa Freedom Day in Ghana in 1959, from the OAU conference in Addis Ababa in 1963 to the commemoration of the Volta River Project in 1966. In the spliced reportage, extracted segments of history are mediated via the dulcet tones of Path\u00e9 News and the distinctive accents of the BBC, creating a parade of public figures that come to stand for the historical events themselves. But the partiality of history (all male, all Anglophone, all suited and silked) is suggested by the seepage from scanned stamp to found footage. For a filter of colour, drawn from the chromatic intensity of the miniature stamps (themselves peripatetic palimpsests overprinted with numbers, letters and lines), washes over the documents of history creating a coloured haze or tint that flattens out and challenges their perceived veracity. The Pop palette \u2013 so evident in the postage stamps \u2013 seems to permeate the tonality and timbre of the documents of history. Awash with colour (vivid greens, putrid pinks, tangy oranges, mauves and yellows) the events of the past are here filled in with the period-specific tints that their black-and-white neutrality appears to mask.\r\n\r\nThat the postage stamp should provide the iconic and material base for this filmic revisitation of the moment of decolonisation is interesting. And poignant, especially given that we are at the brink of its immanent obsolescence. We rarely see stamps in usage nowadays. Supplanted by the anonymity and mechanical efficiency of the franking machine that spits out our bank statements and junk mail with a charmless uniformity, stamps are fast becoming a thing of the past. Used on the occasional postcard or intermittent private letter, the printed postage stamp is an exotic remnant of a form of epistolary and economic exchange that barely survives, supplanted for the most part by email, Instagram, Internet banking and Skype.\r\n\r\nAnd so it\u2019s an apt moment to write the eulogy of the stamp. First regulated and standardised in Berne in the 1870s by the Universal Postal Union, stamps came to symbolise the modern network of international relations that capitalist modernity heralded. They were designed to both register national identity (with their heads of state, famous figures and \u201cindigenous\u201d flora and fauna) as well as secure universal markers of value so that goods and greetings could be efficiently sent and received. They depended on the industrial processes of printing and transportation that characterise the modern world. They registered the flow of money and unprecedented movement of people across an expanded globe in which currencies and cartographies were shifting. As such, they belong firmly in the culture and context of modernity. So too does the still-hopeful moment of decolonisation, aptly registered in the language and materiality of the circulating commemorative tokens, whose colour-coded shape and format (oddly global in design and resonance) provide material residues of the cataclysmic historical events that the newsreels so politely (and partially) relayed. That the stamps themselves are over-determined signifiers whose design and imagery situate them firmly within the languages of modernism, points to the humanist universalism that informed the rhetoric of liberation and human rights so evident at Bandung and beyond.\r\n\r\nIt is this that In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i> so subtly teaches us. Decolonisation and modernism, the mythic and the minute cohabit on the screen so that their relationship is both exposed and questioned. Whether scanned or found, the film places the stuff of history before us, allowing the dynamics of diminution and enlargement, explication and exploration, flatness and depth to oscillate and interact in open but choreographed juxtaposition. Shown at the Delfina Foundation in London alongside the Otolith Group\u2019s own selection of formative screen-based work, each of which registers either the moment of decolonisation or anti-colonial struggles and their traces, the effect is powerful. The installation includes Ren\u00e9 Vautrier\u2019s searing 1950s indictment of the French instrumentalisation of colonial peoples; Olga Poliakoff\u2019s short montage of drawings produced by exiled and orphaned Algerian children; Harun Farocki\u2019s late 1960s agitprop meditation on news manipulation and control; and Bejamin Tiven\u2019s recent exploration of technology and the archive in Kenya. All of these provide the curatorial framework through which the Otolith Group prefers to be seen. The effect is exquisite, the affect tragic, the experience timely.\r\n\r\n\"In the Year of the Quiet Sun\" - The Otolith Group, Delfina Foundation, London: October 10 - November 8, 2014<\/strong><\/a>\r\n\r\n\u00a0\"In the Year of the Quiet Sun\" - The Otolith Group, Casco - Office for Art, Design and Theory, Utrecht: November 14, 2014 - January 25, 2015<\/strong><\/a>\r\n

Tamar Garb<\/i><\/b> is Durning Lawrence Professor in the History of Art at the University College London.\u00a0Her research interests have focused on questions of gender and sexuality, the woman artist and the body in nineteenth and early twentieth century French art and she has published extensively in this field.<\/i><\/p>[:fr]\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/em>\u00a0\u2013 The Otolith Group<\/a>\u2019s 34-minute film essay on the fragile dream of pan-Africanism \u2013 is neither quiet nor sunny. If anything, it resounds with a melancholic sombreness, born of hindsight and hope \u2013 a series of echoes and reverberations that seem to animate and agitate the totems of the past so that they are no longer still or silent. At the heart of the film is an astronomical conceit. It relates to an intermittent solar phenomenon \u2013 occurring in an eleven-year cycle \u2013 when the sun\u2019s surface cools sufficiently to allow scientists to study it. During one such period, between November 1964 and November 1965, many countries, including emerging independent African states, issued commemorative stamps to mark this significant moment. These spheres of saturated yellow and red with spiky, radiating rays \u2013 reproduced in the film \u2013 seem to shine a beneficent light onto the orbiting earth. But down below, despite similar philatelic symbolisation \u2013 stars, spheres, roundels and flags proliferate on the commemorative and celebratory stamps of decolonisation and independence \u2013 the territorial and political transformation of the unquiet continent far exceeds the capacity of these miniscule propaganda prints to adequately tell its tale.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_9845\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"589\"]\"The The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch[\/caption]\r\n\r\nIt is this disjunction between the minute materiality of the postage stamps and the epic events they commemorate that the film dramatises so brilliantly. Taking its formal cue from the period-specific design and display value of these small but significant prints,\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i>\u00a0blows up the scale of the stamp, allowing it to fill the screen. Stamp and screen become one, flattening out and filtering the archival and documentary footage with which it is interwoven and juxtaposed. The stamps themselves are interesting: we notice their schematic design, the simplified graphics of 1960s commercial art and advertising; and the standardised lettering and modernist fonts which situate them firmly in the American context from which they were generated and distributed. Why, asks the narrator, are the symbols of pan-African liberation and decolonisation designed on Wall Street? Who is the \u201cNew York Philatelic Society\u201d? What is the pan-African Pop that the stamps seem to symbolise and suggest? These are not only issues of design and decorum. They point to the question of power and the fraught issues of allegiance and alignment for the emerging African nations, poised during the early years of the Cold War between their old colonial occupiers (from which they needed to liberate themselves, mentally and economically) and the new power brokers of East and West, each vying for prominence and influence. At the same time they signal the formal and symbolic languages through which pan-Africanism found its robust, if short-lived, voice.\r\n\r\nAt times the film probes and problematises the visual language of the stamps through extraction and enlargement. Take for example the stamp designed to mark Ghana\u2019s opening of parliament in 1957 which incorporates a photograph showing Queen Elizabeth II on the throne flanked by newly-empowered Ghanaians attired in national dress and British military personnel in uniform. The tiny grainy photograph embedded in the heart of the stamp grows to fill the screen. Its black-and-white facticity echoes with the documentary footage used throughout the film, while the interspersed stamps punctuate and puncture its flow. For,\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i>\u00a0moves between the scanned flatness of the commemorative stamp and the apparent veracity and three-dimensionality of \u201cofficial\u201d filmed coverage of \u201cnews-worthy\u201d events.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_9846\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"604\"]\"The The Otolith Group, In the Year of the Quiet Sun Courtesy of Delfina Foundation\/Tim Bowditch[\/caption]\r\n\r\nThe archival footage ranges from the\u00a0Bandung conference of non-aligned states in 1957<\/a>\u00a0to Africa Freedom Day in Ghana in 1959, from the OAU conference in Addis Ababa in 1963 to the commemoration of the Volta River Project in 1966. In the spliced reportage, extracted segments of history are mediated via the dulcet tones of Path\u00e9 News and the distinctive accents of the BBC, creating a parade of public figures that come to stand for the historical events themselves. But the partiality of history (all male, all Anglophone, all suited and silked) is suggested by the seepage from scanned stamp to found footage. For a filter of colour, drawn from the chromatic intensity of the miniature stamps (themselves peripatetic palimpsests overprinted with numbers, letters and lines), washes over the documents of history creating a coloured haze or tint that flattens out and challenges their perceived veracity. The Pop palette \u2013 so evident in the postage stamps \u2013 seems to permeate the tonality and timbre of the documents of history. Awash with colour (vivid greens, putrid pinks, tangy oranges, mauves and yellows) the events of the past are here filled in with the period-specific tints that their black-and-white neutrality appears to mask.\r\n\r\nThat the postage stamp should provide the iconic and material base for this filmic revisitation of the moment of decolonisation is interesting. And poignant, especially given that we are at the brink of its immanent obsolescence. We rarely see stamps in usage nowadays. Supplanted by the anonymity and mechanical efficiency of the franking machine that spits out our bank statements and junk mail with a charmless uniformity, stamps are fast becoming a thing of the past. Used on the occasional postcard or intermittent private letter, the printed postage stamp is an exotic remnant of a form of epistolary and economic exchange that barely survives, supplanted for the most part by email, Instagram, Internet banking and Skype.\r\n\r\nAnd so it\u2019s an apt moment to write the eulogy of the stamp. First regulated and standardised in Berne in the 1870s by the Universal Postal Union, stamps came to symbolise the modern network of international relations that capitalist modernity heralded. They were designed to both register national identity (with their heads of state, famous figures and \u201cindigenous\u201d flora and fauna) as well as secure universal markers of value so that goods and greetings could be efficiently sent and received. They depended on the industrial processes of printing and transportation that characterise the modern world. They registered the flow of money and unprecedented movement of people across an expanded globe in which currencies and cartographies were shifting. As such, they belong firmly in the culture and context of modernity. So too does the still-hopeful moment of decolonisation, aptly registered in the language and materiality of the circulating commemorative tokens, whose colour-coded shape and format (oddly global in design and resonance) provide material residues of the cataclysmic historical events that the newsreels so politely (and partially) relayed. That the stamps themselves are over-determined signifiers whose design and imagery situate them firmly within the languages of modernism, points to the humanist universalism that informed the rhetoric of liberation and human rights so evident at Bandung and beyond.\r\n\r\nIt is this that\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun<\/i>\u00a0so subtly teaches us. Decolonisation and modernism, the mythic and the minute cohabit on the screen so that their relationship is both exposed and questioned. Whether scanned or found, the film places the stuff of history before us, allowing the dynamics of diminution and enlargement, explication and exploration, flatness and depth to oscillate and interact in open but choreographed juxtaposition. Shown at the Delfina Foundation in London alongside the Otolith Group\u2019s own selection of formative screen-based work, each of which registers either the moment of decolonisation or anti-colonial struggles and their traces, the effect is powerful. The installation includes Ren\u00e9 Vautrier\u2019s searing 1950s indictment of the French instrumentalisation of colonial peoples; Olga Poliakoff\u2019s short montage of drawings produced by exiled and orphaned Algerian children; Harun Farocki\u2019s late 1960s agitprop meditation on news manipulation and control; and Bejamin Tiven\u2019s recent exploration of technology and the archive in Kenya. All of these provide the curatorial framework through which the Otolith Group prefers to be seen. The effect is exquisite, the affect tragic, the experience timely.\r\n\r\n\"In the Year of the Quiet Sun\" - The Otolith Group, Delfina Foundation, London: October 10 - November 8, 2014<\/strong><\/a>\r\n\r\n\u00a0\"In the Year of the Quiet Sun\" - The Otolith Group, Casco - Office for Art, Design and Theory, Utrecht: November 14, 2014 - January 25, 2015<\/strong><\/a>\r\n

Tamar Garb<\/i><\/b>\u00a0is Durning Lawrence Professor in the History of Art at the University College London.\u00a0Her research interests have focused on questions of gender and sexuality, the woman artist and the body in nineteenth and early twentieth century French art and she has published extensively in this field.<\/i><\/p>[:]","post_excerpt":""},"acf":{"video_url":null,"Dachzeile":"Of States and Stamps: ","mag_subtitle":"Tamar Garb takes a closer look at the exhibition 'In the Year of the Quiet Sun' by The Otolith Group.","mag_author":"Tamar Garb","mag_abstract":"Tamar Garb takes a closer look at the exhibition 'In the Year of the Quiet Sun' by The Otolith Group.","mag_pubdate":null,"image_container":null,"modul_1":null,"modul_4":null,"modul_5":null,"modul_2":null,"modul_3":null,"teaser":null,"smys":null,"image_only_slide":null},"yoast_head":"\nOf States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation - Contemporary And<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:title\" content=\"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation - Contemporary And\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:description\" content=\"\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun\u00a0\u2013 The Otolith Group\u2019s 34-minute film essay on the fragile dream of pan-Africanism \u2013 is neither quiet nor sunny. If anything, it resounds with a melancholic sombreness, born of hindsight and hope \u2013 a series of echoes and reverberations that seem to animate and agitate the totems of the […]\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:image\" content=\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@contemporaryand\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/\",\"name\":\"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation - Contemporary And\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2014-12-10T12:47:58+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2015-12-20T17:41:42+00:00\",\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"fr-FR\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[[\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/\"]]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"fr-FR\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg\",\"width\":640,\"height\":427},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Editorial\",\"item\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":3,\"name\":\"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#website\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/\",\"name\":\"Contemporary And\",\"description\":\"Contemporary And (C&) est un espace dynamique d\u00e9di\u00e9 \u00e0 la r\u00e9flexion et la mise en relation d'id\u00e9es, de d\u00e9bats et d'informations sur la pratique artistique contemporaine issue de diverses perspectives africaines.\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#organization\"},\"alternateName\":\"C&\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"fr-FR\"},{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#organization\",\"name\":\"Contemporary And\",\"alternateName\":\"C&\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/\",\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"fr-FR\",\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\",\"url\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/cand_site_logo_140.png\",\"contentUrl\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/cand_site_logo_140.png\",\"width\":140,\"height\":78,\"caption\":\"Contemporary And\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/\"},\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/contemporaryand\",\"https:\/\/x.com\/contemporaryand\",\"https:\/\/instagram.com\/contemporaryand\",\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/user\/Contemporaryand\"]}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation - Contemporary And","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_title":"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation - Contemporary And","twitter_description":"\u00a0In the Year of the Quiet Sun\u00a0\u2013 The Otolith Group\u2019s 34-minute film essay on the fragile dream of pan-Africanism \u2013 is neither quiet nor sunny. If anything, it resounds with a melancholic sombreness, born of hindsight and hope \u2013 a series of echoes and reverberations that seem to animate and agitate the totems of the […]","twitter_image":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg","twitter_site":"@contemporaryand","schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/","url":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/","name":"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation - Contemporary And","isPartOf":{"@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg","datePublished":"2014-12-10T12:47:58+00:00","dateModified":"2015-12-20T17:41:42+00:00","breadcrumb":{"@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"fr-FR","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":[["http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/"]]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"fr-FR","@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#primaryimage","url":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg","contentUrl":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/12\/Otolith-Group_Web-0172.jpg","width":640,"height":427},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/of-states-and-stamps-the-otolith-group-at-the-delfina-foundation\/#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Editorial","item":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/magazines\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":3,"name":"Of States and Stamps: The Otolith Group at the Delfina Foundation"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#website","url":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/","name":"Contemporary And","description":"Contemporary And (C&) est un espace dynamique d\u00e9di\u00e9 \u00e0 la r\u00e9flexion et la mise en relation d'id\u00e9es, de d\u00e9bats et d'informations sur la pratique artistique contemporaine issue de diverses perspectives africaines.","publisher":{"@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#organization"},"alternateName":"C&","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"fr-FR"},{"@type":"Organization","@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#organization","name":"Contemporary And","alternateName":"C&","url":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/","logo":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"fr-FR","@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/","url":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/cand_site_logo_140.png","contentUrl":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/cand_site_logo_140.png","width":140,"height":78,"caption":"Contemporary And"},"image":{"@id":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/#\/schema\/logo\/image\/"},"sameAs":["https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/contemporaryand","https:\/\/x.com\/contemporaryand","https:\/\/instagram.com\/contemporaryand","https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/user\/Contemporaryand"]}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/magazines\/9844","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/magazines"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/magazines"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9844"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9849"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9844"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9844"},{"taxonomy":"magazine-type","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/3.230.254.106\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/magazine-type?post=9844"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}