Back to the Bosphorus: the 2001 Istanbul Biennial was titled "Egofugal," a term invented by the curator to suggest diffusion of the individual ego into broader systems and networks - Report from Istanbul

Art in America, March, 2002 by Gregory Volk

Throw in a major new film work, Journey into Fear, by Canadian Stan Douglas, in which tense encounters between a woman and a man on a ship blend dialogue from two different movies; a four-screened open-air cinema by Rirkrit Tiravanija (the films, shown simultaneously, were chosen in a popular vote by Istanbul residents); a snow-crystal-making laboratory by German Carsten Nicolai; an installation of movable, soft rubber sculptures by the late visionary Brazilian Lygia Clark; and music videos by British technowizard Chris Cunningham, and you have the makings of an accomplished show. Everywhere, fleet connections were made between disparate works, which resulted, for the viewer, in a sense of adventure and discovery. This, however, is not to say that all was wonderful with curator Hasegawa's guidance. For one thing, the show of 63 projects was overloaded with "names," artists already familiar to many visitors. Then, in an exhibition allegedly all about transcending ego and individual self-importance, Hasegawa herself was squarely at the center of things, using the biennial platform to make not only oracular statements about art, but about global culture in general, which took the whole would-be star curator thing to really inflated levels.

It didn't help matters when her grand pronouncements depended on some shaky historical premises. Consider, for instance, her oft-repeated mantra of a shift in global culture from the 20th century, which she said was characterized by the "3Ms" (man, materialism and monetarism), to a bold new future that will value the "3Cs" (collective intelligence, collective consciousness and coexistence). While I suppose the 20th century in North America, Europe and Japan could be characterized by issues of personal ego and materialism, this period was also stalked by pretty dreadful examples of collective consciousness, such as Nazism, Stalinism and militant Japanese nationalism, to name just a few. Moreover, when Hasegawa writes in the catalogue that a problem with the 20th century was its focus on "personal freedom" (in contrast to the new collectivity which she champions), one is frankly baffled. Wasn't this the century that included millions of conscripts hunkered down in trenches, and millions more innocent civilians herded into gulags and concentration camps? The century of rampant police states, crackpot mass murderers masquerading as heads of state and various forms of so-called ethnic cleansing, none of which is exactly fertile territory for personal freedom?

You also began to wonder about Hasegawa's cultural frame of reference. Had she considered the vast sections of the world (severely underrepresented in the show) that are hardly in need of transcending materialism and monetarism, namely because they've never had much materialism to begin with? If you were to start telling an Albanian painter or a young Turkish sculptor, trying to eke out a living and a career in tough times, that we're all graduating en masse from materialism and individual ego to collective consciousness, he or she would probably think that you're from, well, Tokyo, London, New York or some other superwealthy place where one has the luxury of worrying about such things.