The idea of what the 21st century would be, for someone over forty years old, has always been controversial. On one hand, technological advances, the practical conveniences developed to carry out everyday tasks (originating initially from the industrial revolution and culminating in advances in artificial intelligence), and the existence of means that made communication expansive, worldwide and unrestricted (cell phones, WhatsApp, Instagram…) suggested an optimistic life à la “The Jetsons” or “Buck Rogers; on the other hand, the scarcity of fundamental natural resources, the ever-diminishing relationship between humans and ecosystems, the unrestrained exploitation of naturally exhaustible minerals, the slow change in energy generation standards, and the high rates of pollution in all environments (air, water, soil, food…) would lead us to a dystopian and pessimistic future à la “Blade Runner” and “Mad Max”. Though distinct, both models believed that, as practical problems were solved, from an individual standpoint we would aspire and evolve toward a stage of personal maturity and freedom capable of positively affecting collective behavior of sharing and free expression — or at least transforming that evolution into a selfish preservation of individual freedom achieved. However, after nearly a decade and a half into this new century, international society confronts a lack of ability to live with the minimal personal freedom that has been constructed and arduously won since the Enlightenment, seeming to attempt a return to fundamentalist aspects that dictate rules and models so that it is clear how we must behave and proceed, what we must do and think.

 

From a political point of view, in the early years of the second decade of this century, we are seeing the crises of democracy. Democratically elected governments, or recently re-democratized ones, destabilize their situation in favor of authoritarian and totalitarian models from elections of “outsiders.” Culture and education are threatened by these governments. Behaviorally, these aspects are reflected in religious models. If internationally these characteristics advance with evolution, the threat and clash of a Middle Eastern fundamentalism expanded into Europe, in Brazil this evolution expresses itself more evidently in the increase of beliefs derived from new religions based on literal understandings of sacred books, without interpretation, and with little tolerance for coexistence. Words like ecumenical, coexistence, complex, and diversity seem to lose meaning in a country that is itself complex, with complex and multiple histories, characterized by cultural, regional and natural diversity. What once was richness now, in the second decade of the 21st century, seems a problem.

 

The excess of irrelevant information does not contribute to the clarity of events. Anyone can discuss any issue, join any debate via diverse communication means, without necessarily real awareness or relevance to what is being discussed, or even time or interest to deepen their knowledge. If clarity and depth of information become less important, blind belief, based on a blind religion, becomes more relevant. Hannah Arendt, in her book The Human Condition, clearly states a concept that speaks exactly about this: “the fragility of human affairs.” Analyzing the word “act,” derived from Latin and Greek, which in both languages had a dual meaning of “to begin / rule / initiate something” and “to carry out / execute / continue,” Arendt shows how that word becomes unified as one: to lead or to govern. Politically, to act becomes to govern or to lead commanding one’s subjects to execute something. Thus it removes from the meaning of “action” the capacity to execute and divides its meaning into someone who commands (action) and someone who executes. Given how society has evolved, the disappearance of an order (action) makes execution without order nearly impossible. But in my view, execution without order may be the ultimate freedom: executing what one desires, without the order of another pre-established! The 21st century, however, seems to seek to enthrone the distinction between order and execution, assigning order to someone (or something) and execution to the people. Religion, always associated with politics, seems to be the means by which this distinction becomes most viable in the contemporary world and in all previous times.

 

Since their inception, religions tend to be institutions where order and execution seem more distinctly separated. The means by which order, given by the leader, becomes executable by their subjects are varied, and art has been used worldwide for this purpose. The history of art and the history of religion overlap for more than 500 years in the West. In the Near East and farther East, art and religion also overlap in their iconoclasms. For the West and farther East, more allegorical; for the Near East, more geometric, avoiding representations. Yet for the new religions, the absence of the image seems novel. Such observation seems not to refer to a collective, imagined idea or a post-death illustrated or allegorical future, but rather to a concrete and real reality. If for a Catholic, for example, Heaven is full of sacred images, which throughout the history of its iconoclastic representation moved from suffering to apogee and redemption — and where the blessings of good behavior will always be rewarded — for the new religions the heaven does not exist, or at least is not represented. There is the here and now. Reward is given today, in the present, in earthly life. One thrives in the now. But how to make order become action without an image serving as model? Unless we take violence, bribery or coercion as responses — this question makes me revert to architecture, since religions, in general, require a space to congregate.

 

Classical architecture, based on its austere forms, implies power, suggests respect, classical beauties, sometimes protection. It is no coincidence that, two days after drafting this text, the current U.S. president is trying to enact a law forcing government buildings to adopt classical architectural models.

 

Temple-stores in Brazil have pediments. Newly built residential buildings across Brazil exhibit granite or marble tombstones, external cornices, columns with capitals, arches at their entrances.

 

This work consists of Roman arches (referencing the Church of São José in Belo Horizonte), Islamic arches and a dome, classical pediments, domes of Israeli mosques, walls of Pentecostal temples and Candomblé terreiros coexisting with half-walls of schoolrooms and rows of classroom desks in a construction environment. The work is a created or under-construction space, harmonious or not, convivial or combative, shaped by the interplay between artist and viewer.

 

This text was written for the work “The physical space can be an abstract, complex place in construction”, 2021.