6. The art of the
fragment
All reconstruction presupposes a previous dispersion
of the whole and its parts. Museums have always taken
pains to conserve those pieces, either in their
archeology or antiquities collections. The last decades
saw the emergence, as well, of a strong esthetic trend
giving importance to those fragments which, by the magic
of the museum, became works of art.
The fragment is also instructive in the school of
fictitious art. Does not the Victory
of Samothrace suggest a Greek style besides
the real one? Khmer statuary has multiplied admirable
heads on conventional bodies; isolated Khmer heads are
the glory of the Guimet Museum. St. John the Baptist on
the portal of Rheims Cathedral is far from matching the
genius of his isolated visage. The fragment given pride
of place because of what it represents and carefully
lighted becomes a far from modest reproduction in the
imaginary museum. (23)
Reproduction, in effect, has the virtue of enhancing
at will an aspect, a facet, an artist, a brushstroke, a
spot of color. Without the intervention of technique the
fragment would be lost in the anonymous ensemble of
orphaned remains. But we must admit that an important
tendency has already begun.
Classical esthetics went from the fragment to the
whole, our own travels from the whole to the fragment and
finds in reproduction incomparable assistance.
(25)
The imaginary museum offers, in fact, the possibility
of playing with the pieces of the puzzle, with the art
elements that our imagination wants to scrutinize. It is
by definition a "non-invasive" painless intervention,
which does not even touch the object. It preserves the
original. But we can go further. With the help of the new
digital techniques everything can be atomized, reduced to
a minimal symbolic expression, to a string of 1 and 0
which the computer infallibly interprets. The last
fragment of the virtual museum is the bit, the unit of
information. We have changed the Universe. In this new
digital world forms, colors and volumes take on a new
corporeal entity. They are generated step-by-step,
transformed by geometrical operations and given out to
the whole world via the internet. Malraux never imagined
the potential of his idea about the value of the fragment
in art reproduction. The time he lived in limited him to
a difficult photographic reconstruction. Today, however,
we can enrich his intuition in multiple ways. In the
first place, digital reproduction makes possible
replacing lost materials, the handle of a Greek amphora,
the border of a medieval tapestry, the broken nose on a
statue. It also helps us to recover the original color of
a painting and continue an arabesque eroded by time. On
the computer screen we pass unobstructed from the whole
to the fragment and from the fragment to the whole.
What is it that prompts us to recover these
fragments, those tracks left by the past? It is not only
the passion for domination over things nor the
celebration of a prodigious technology. As Malraux
insinuates, it is something much deeper, we want to keep
on living!
Our sensibility for the mutilated statue, for the
bronze from archeological excavations is revealing. We
collect neither the indistinct bas-relief nor the rust of
time; it is not the presence of death which holds us, it
is survival. (631)
In the imaginary museum fragments are kept and
restored. In the virtual museum they acquire new life,
one which perhaps they never actually had. We are forcing
destiny. What is this Herculean struggle with history
that continues incessantly throughout time? It is clear
to Malraux that,
Mutilation is the sign of combat, time has suddenly
made its appearance, time that is part of the art of the
past, which is both its substance and the threatening
darkness emerging from the fracture, the place where
chaos and subjection unite. All the museums in the world
have as symbol Hercules's mutilated torso. Hercules's
new adversary, the last incarnation of destiny, is
history. (633)
Figure 3
The history of mankind is implacable and many
masterpieces where not only destroyed but never saw the
light of day, or remained unfinished or never left the
sketching table. But now digital technology facilitates
their birth in the virtual museum. They can appear from
the abyss that destroyed them before birth. In fact,
today it is possible to artificially recreate works that
never were more than a sketch or a blueprint. Thanks to
the new digital technologies it is possible "to see the
invisible," in the words of Takehiko
Nagakura, one of the leaders of MIT's Project
Unbuilt.(8) His research team has reconstructed in
virtual space "architecture never built" of great artists
such as Palladio, Le Corbusier, Vladimir Tatlin and
Alvaar Alto. The results are spectacular and in some way
the answer to Malraux's concern with "showing" great
architectural works in his imaginary museum. Now we can
go beyond a scale model of a monument and visualize it in
full detail in virtual space, even see its fictional
placement in the city. We can, finally, thanks to the
virtual museum, make visits, climb towers and tour the
salons of an architectural masterpiece that never existed
but that some genius did imagine and blueprint. The
poetic spirit that animates all reconstruction is excited
at these possibilities. "What would St. Petersburg be
like if those four hundred meters of rusty iron were
imposed on the neo-classical city on a winter day?"
wonders Nagakura referring to the digital reconstruction
of Tatlin's gigantic tower. The technological answer is
that virtual images show in obsessive detail even the
rust on old iron beams and the footprints on the
snow!