Literature and football somehow go well together. The football player is a permanent character for Esterházy, Darvasi and Kukorelly. The situation is somewhat different with the fine arts. Works of art have been produced related to football by Willi Baumeister and even Andy Warhol, but somehow it is not the real thing. I hardly know any Hungarian artist at all you could talk about football to, not to mention those who could even play the game. Drawing a parallel between these two disciplines without harming the sensitivity of the artist is a difficult task; however, comparison offers itself in an age when the same charitable philanthropist builds both stadiums and museums.
153 jury selected artists participated at the comprehensive graphic art exhibition entitled Black and white. 153 players go out to the fields on average on a weekend tournament of the NB I. Although, I know my way in the world of football rather well, I can tell you the names of all the team members of Hertha BSC by heart, I have only seen about 50% of all Hungarian players play and just read about the others in the papers promptly forgetting their names. You can imagine a game of 153 people, but it is not easy. One runs fast, but heads rather badly, the other is aggressive, but gets tired fast – I could not say more than short phrases about those I have already seen playing in the field. It would need more than human performance to review the momentary accomplishment of 153 artists and to develop a pervasive view of Hungarian graphic art. Especially, in the case of this exhibition, when a tiny trick makes the viewer’s task more difficult. Of course, the pictures could have been hung upside down, but aggravating our misery, the works were zipped into a computer, then magnified into black and white poster size. This is similar to when you have to watch all the Hungarian championship games at the same time, and then again, but in slow motion. The experiment shows that there is one kind of work that fits poster size: and that is posters. You have to admit that the works of Béla Tettamanti look good in all sizes.
The good thing about graphic art is that it is versatile. It has so many techniques that you get dazzled; you can get numerous kinds of playful, soft effects and the technical expertise of Hungarian artists is simply incredible. This experiment shows none of this. The order of arrangement advances from scarce lines toward a dense mass, so the visitor has no other experience besides being bored to death. Well, actually there is, for when you think the monotony will never end, you discover the originals hidden in an oversized filing system. Whichever piece you pick, it is as if you regained you eyesight. A whole world unfolds before you: colours, shapes and proportions. (I recommend you to take a look at the original work of Imre Bukta.)
Of course, you can regard it as a post-conceptual trick that questions the operating mechanism of contemporary exhibition factories
in a witty way and labours at the restitution of the aura of the original piece. If you look at it from a dadaist aspect, then everything is in
place. I am convinced that the information leaflet called ”If you think over the history of the fine arts…” must have come to light only from
the legacy of Oberdada. Or, the solution of Rezső Móder is an elegant example of the political roles of an artist who criticises the local
authority of Dunaújváros in a manifesto next to the magnified copy of his work. I do not even dare to imagine what will happen during
elections here. (The title of an ephemeral dadaist publication explains everything: Jedermann sein eigner Fussball – Everybody is their own
football.)
No harm done, we will survive this one as well, but I can only hope that once in a lifetime I can get out to the Documenta!