THIRD NATURE
OR THE END OF ORIGINS
» CELESTE OLALQUIAGA
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Rather than embarking on a historical reassessment
about the notion of origins in philosophy, a truly daunting task for which I feel anything but prepared, and
much less willing, what I would like to do here is outline
a tentative, by no means exhaustive — and hopefully not
exhausting — cultural trajectory of this notion, in other
words, to attempt a certain understanding of the logic
of origins, of how origins work in culture.
...
1 » origins and essentialism
To begin with, “origin” comes from the latin “origo”
[from “oriri”, to rise], which means source, like in
source of life, and is therefore loaded with organic
and vital connotations, implying the beginning of
life, or birth. his etymology is crucial, as it indicates
that from the moment go the notion of origins (usually referred to in the plural) was related to nature
or to what may be called the natural order of things.
In this sense, it is useful to compare “origo” with
“arche” or “principium”, which also meant beginning, in Greek and Latin respectively, yet without
any organic implications. It is therefore right from its
beginnings, its origins, so to speak, that the notion
of origins acquired its particular identity and, above
all, an ailiation that granted it an almost untouchable legitimacy.
he notion of origins is one of the cornerstones
of intellectual discussions, for which knowing where
ideas come from, that is, who or what gave them
“birth” irst, seems sometimes more relevant than
understanding the trajectory these ideas followed
once they were in existence. We are faced here with
a recurrent problem in the history of thought and
therefore of the social, which is that of essentialism,
a tacit consensus whereby ideas, and in consequence
people and things, have an acquired value granted
by seniority, or being there irst. I am not speaking
here of the value of experience, that wisdom of age
which used to be so appreciated in other times, and
which, given the speed of change in our hypermodern culture, has become apparently totally useless.
On the contrary, I believe that essentialism is by
deinition opposed to experience, and therefore is
deeply ahistorical in the sense that it wishes itself
larger than life and independent of time.
In other words, essentialism, the idea of an
immanent and pure element or condition, draws its
strength from being immaterial, given that anything
concrete or tangible is by force inscribed in both
space and time. In this material sense, the logic of
essentialism diverges from that of origins in that the
latter does not refuse its temporal inscription. On
the contrary, origins validate time, but a chronological rather than a historical time: it’s the time of who
was there irst, that is, who supposedly laid the foundations. his primacy would seem to convey to origins a fundamental weight that makes origins more
authentic than whatever follows them, in particular
the present, always considered less relevant because
of its historical contingency and its proximity, both
of which lack the legitimacy of times past.
It is in this very artiicial opposition between
past and present that the essentialist character of
origins is established, insofar as the notion of origins,
representing the onset of speciic cultural aspects,
borrows from nature its role as eternal source of
life. As such, origins free themselves from temporal restraints to become a foundation beyond time,
a move authorized by their apparent ailiation to a
nature that can overcome time in its endless ability
to renew itself. In this way, the logic of essentialism
and that of origins become one and the same. his can
be seen, for example, in the way race is treated as a
form of essentialism. I would specify that race is an
origin that behaves like, or pretends to be, essential:
a beginning that claims foundational rights. Consequently, the racial, national or cultural origin of someone (the context where that person is born) becomes
the privileged sign of that person’s belonging to a
supra-material essence, for better or worse.
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2 » nature and culture
Origins and essentialism meet therefore in their
basic ahistoricism, except that the logic of origins
retains a relationship to time, even if in a mainly
chronological sense, whereas for essentialism time is
there only to be transcended. his [breach] between
foundational truths and historical contingencies (that
is, between origins as essence and history as experience) depends on two contradictions. he irst is the
obvious “naturalization” of a cultural concept, that
of origins, which attempts to escape its human-made
character in an identiication with nature, even as
this very nature, essentialized by such idealization,
becomes denaturalized and immaterial.
his naturalization of a cultural notion not only
reduces its complexity as a human product or creation, but also renders it susceptible to itting into a
transcendental hierarchy whereby all that is natural
(that is, foundational, essential or original) is good,
whereas everything cultural (and by consequence
contingent, secondary or imitative) is by deinition
less than good, not necessarily bad but certainly
inferior. Having awarded its foundational status to
the notion of origins, nature is paradoxically voided,
remaining like an empty matrix useful only for the
raw materials which it provides to a culture that will
use them to the max. On one hand there is a culture
that seeks its legitimacy in its supposedly natural
ailiation, on the other, a nature rendered abstract
by this cultural equation.
One of the best examples of this contradictory
exchange is the use of foreign or “exotic” elements
in modern culture. Usually from the hird World,
the exotic emblematizes an archaic relationship to
nature, and therefore a supposedly higher degree of
authenticity and spirituality than that of industrial
societies. But this new relationship between so-called
“primitive” cultures and a modernity which uses
them to create a new art that wishes itself original
in the full sense of the term (originality being one of
the obsessions of modern art, and for a reason, since
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modernity crushes everything that came before it),
this new relationship, then, does not imply a change
of status for the originating culture, which is forced
to remain as a natural origins provider. Losing this
status, that is, entering into an equivalence with
the appropiating culture would compromise the
exoticized culture’s authenticity, and therefore lose
all its interest for the West. Nature and everything
considered natural must remain immutable so that
culture, in this case hegemonic Western culture, can
beneit of an endless mobility.
Despite appearances, the modern relationship
between art and nature doesn’t begin in the twentieth century, but can be traced all the way to the
late Middle Ages, that is to the 1200 and 1300s. It
is there, in the beginnings of what will eventually
become the great collections of “natural and artiicial objects”, as they were called, that one can ind,
dare I say, the origins of this peculiar relationship, so
determining for them both. Generally speaking, one
can say that until the end of the Middle Ages, nature
had enjoyed of a very central position in Western
culture, where it was considered a manifestation of
divine will. his is why natural elements, raw or manufactured alike (stones, woods, bones, etc), were often
cult objects, and therefore invested with the powers of
cult, whether religious, spiritual or magical.
his begins to change with the collections of “wonders” or wonder chambers (“wunderkammern”) where
natural objects, specially those considered strange or
bizarre, gained an added status beyond that of cult
objects by the simple fact of being extraordinary. It is
not by chance that these collections began to be formed
in churches and palaces with holy relics (the fragments
of bones or clothes of saints, considered as invested
with their holiness and therefore treasured as sacred
remains), these relics quickly surrounded by all sort of
organic remains such as fossils, coral, alligators (the
latter hung from churches’ ceilings to emphasize their
divine nature), as well as by valuable manufactured
objects such as coins, paintings, jewelry and so on.
he history of these collections is long and fascinating, but what interests me most here is the
gradual transition, in a few centuries, from the cult
value of natural objects to what is called exhibition
value. hat is, from a use that is relatively functional
(if we agree that the votive value of cult objects is
partly derived from their capacity to protect, satisfy
wishes and produce miracles), to another use that
is much more aesthetic or intellectual. Even if this
latter use is loaded with deep emotion, the sacred
aspect of natural objects begins to lose ground to
a feeling of wonder which itself will eventually be
displaced by scientiic inquiry.
This change from a sacralized nature to one
that, already in the 18th century has become a relic
of itself, or of how it used to be perceived, becoming instead what will later be known as “natural
history”, that is, a ield of knowledge, is so gradual
and dramatic that we still have trouble assessing its
full impact. he change from cult value to exhibition
value of organic objects is in fact the transformation
of a living nature, with which culture maintains an
active, dynamic relationship, to a dead nature, which
far from being the agent of divine power, is reduced
to a passive object of human curiosity.
Curiously enough, it is at this time that the category of “dead nature” or “nature morte” appears in
art. And dead nature is, in the sense of deprived of
mystical meaning, of a cultural relationship now
gone, a signifying dimension left behind. Obviously,
nature is still alive, despite our systematic eforts
to the contrary, and can be very much so in creative interventions which give it new dimensions of
meaning, as I will soon show. Yet, as far as cultural
object, nature is dead in that it went, as psychoanalysis would say, from subject to object, even if only in
our social imaginary.
he transition from cult object to exhibition
object, which determines the modern relationship
between culture and nature, is accentuated by the
industrialization characteristic of recent modernity,
which further annihilates the mystical dimension
nature once enjoyed. Modernity, then, not only
destroys a living connection to nature, but also
destroys nature itself, all the while maintaining the
notion of an essential nature (or a natural essence)
as the theoretical referent of its cultural legitimacy.
And where can we best appreciate this contradiction between the theory and practice of modernity
towards nature? In the notion of origins.
3 » originality and autHenticity
I would now like to concentrate on what we will call
for clarity’s sake recent modernity, or that of industrialization proper (most of the 19th and 20th centuries), in order to distinguish it from a larger sense of
the modern as an increasingly laic, or atheist, cultural
period. Even though it pertains to this larger period,
from which it derives logics such as that of essentialism and origins, recent modernity is characterized
by the violence of its industrial development and its
consequences, such as the fragmentation of time and
the homogeneization of space. Above all, it is characterized by an idea of progress that underlies and
nurtures industrialization, and which is manifested
in an almost total disdain for all that which precedes,
resists or simply difers from modernity.
Cultural traditions, for example, so important
to most societies, which ind in them an anchor for
their beliefs and organization, are drastically abolished or set aside by this modern impulse, for which
such traditions are an obstacle towards the future.
he future, a notion that came into existence precisely during this period, was to be characterized by
economic development and eiciency, the basic conditions for a wellbeing as overblown as it has been
irregular and partially accomplished.
Without going into all the social implications
of the disparity between the modern promise and
its relative achievement, whose consequences we
can gage nowadays more than ever, what I would
like to discuss here are the the cultural concepts
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that accompanied this notion of progress, since
they had an enormous importance for all modern
creative activity. hese concepts are originality and
authenticity. Both belong to a time where tradition
becomes a thing of the past, and when an appreciation of the past as relevant historical memory and
social experience as a collective phenomenon are
quickly becoming obsolete. For modernity, futuristic
and individualistic, what matters is the movement
towards tomorrow, a concept marked by novelty and
constant change, a sort of eternal youth which is as
much a constitutive sign of this cultural era as the
fatal trap that it set for itself.
Stable and solid, traditions were also static and
repetitive, and thus hardly adaptable to a modernity whose trademark was the constant production
of novelty. his created an unprecedent material
excess, itself supported and reproduced by a cultural
practice where maintenance gave way to substitution. his material proliferation, made possible by
the capitalist principle of continuous reproduction,
depends on a situation where use value, whether
symbolic or literal, is displaced by exchange value,
thus violently cutting down the lifespan of objects,
which are made to last only for the short term. his
excess, in turn, produces a phenomenon typical of
consumer societies, that of trash. Junk, debris and
the disposable will become from this moment on a
constitutive part of the cultural landscape.
he notions of authenticity and originality are
derived from this new situation. hey are a response
to mass reproduction, which they try to resist by
framing it within a system of traditional values
represented by notions such as essentialism and
origins, with which they establish a mirror relationship. In this sense, one could say that authenticity
and originality are reactionary in the strictest sense
of the term: they react to a new cultural condition
by attempting to impose on it antiquated parameters, refusing whatever this new condition means
as profound change.
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Ironically, authenticity and originality would
not exist without modernity. Authenticity, to begin
with, is practically irrelevant until put into question. hen it becomes an issue, as Walter Benjamin
clearly shows in his essay on mechanical reproduction, even though this was not his goal. Only when
the proliferation of copies threatens and in efect
displaces the singularity of an object does this singularity become important, representing an experience and a presence considered unique in space and
time. his experience is that of authenticity, and it
is made present in the original.
Yet, even though they are both part and parcel
of modernity, authenticity and originality must be
contrasted insofar as they are diferent aspects of this
phenomenon. Authenticity is connected to a quest for
truth, which opposes the authentic, considered truthful, to the fake, which would be the illusory. Originality, on the other hand, is a measure of singularity: an
original is unique or singular as opposed to its copies,
which are multiple. he problem is that, just like we
saw earlier in the conlation between the notions of
origins and essentialism, which takes place through
their use of nature as common source of meaning,
the original reaches beyond its quantitative status
(that of uniqueness, being one and therefore indivisible and monolithic) by appropriating qualitative
elements from authenticity (basically, an exclusive
right to the truth), becoming itself an essentialist
index of what is true, that is good, in culture. he
modern original becomes then the new authentic,
while vintage authenticity is busy ighting of sword
and dagger an army of modern imitators.
Originality becomes in this way the modern
measure of value, specially of aesthetic value, which
by deinition will be attributed to what is produced
and not reproduced, that is, to that which is outside mass culture. This is why modernity almost
immediately, and very nostalgically, reivindicates
folklore and the primitive arts. he genial outcome
of a unique will (that of the solitary creator in full
efervescence, a very male and Romantic image that
manages to hold fast despite all changes), originality is even above culture in that this genial creature
is not, at least theoretically, a social product, but
rather the outcome of a theologized domain: that
of sacred inspiration.
To say it briely, originality is a way of facing
modernity that, even while borrowing some of its
features like the abstraction and innovation typical
of industrialization, simultaneously pushes asides
other equally constitutive aspects like the sensorial
and repetitive, which are qualiied as too obvious or
efective (in the sense of producing only efects, not
truth-laden epiphanies) to be original. Whereby the
great divide of modern culture between an avantgarde that regards itself as genial and original, and
a mass culture it considers simplistic and imitative.
Such is the inal paradox of a culture that has one
foot on modern technology and the other on a premodern ideology.
To clarify a little further this paradox, one must
distinguish between a social condition or phenomenon and the thought that comes out of it, two quite
diferent things. Modernity as a social phenomenon
should not be confused with modernism, which is
constituted by the intellectual and artistic movements (the diferent “isms” and avantgardes) that
tried to articulate cognitively and creatively this new
phenomenon during the irst part of the twentieth
century. While modernity is a social phenomenon
independent of singular wills, modernism is one of
its cultural by-products, and therefore does not hold
exclusive rights to its deinition.
Why is this so? Because all that modernism
rejects as not worthy of being modern (and consequently, of lacking the essential value of what it considers modern) all that is at the very heart of modernity as a phenomenon: materiality, appropriation,
repetition, hybridity and excess. It is hardly surprising, then, that it is in the cultural moment known
as postmodernity that these rejected elements ind
their moment of glory, theoretically recognized as
valuable after decades of being considered artistic
trash. Because even if postmodernity cannot be separated from the modern process that gave it existence,
it must be understood as a distinct moment of this
process, a moment when those elements which had
seemed indispensable to modernism, such as originality, were no longer meaningful.
4 » mecHanical reproduction
Without getting into a discussion about postmodernity, which at any rate has itself been left behind by
hypermodernity, where only the speed of exchange
counts, I would like to inish this discussion about
originality by distinguishing between kinds of copies.
While the classic opposition between the authentic
and the fake (that is, essence and appearance) dates
as far back as Plato’s allegory of the cave, with industrialization and the massive proliferation of copies
this opposition is shattered. he dichotomy between
real and false becomes more opaque and ambiguous than ever, and the predominance of novelty, as
said before, displaces everything that came before
it, even if the traditional ideologies that supported
the premodern period are left intact. Faced with an
unbridled and serialised reproduction in a world
where rationality and homogeneity are valued above
difference and the extraordinary, the notions of
authenticity and originality attempt to survive by
granting each novelty an essentialist, foundational
character, proper of a time where references were
felt as more stable.
While the copy is certainly not an invention of
modernity, pre-modern copies didn’t threaten the
primacy of the original, but instead further validated
it by what might be called an “admiring” reproduction. Here there was no questioning of the original,
for pre-modern copies fully participated of a hierarchical system where appearances were only that:
secondary and subordinated to an essence belonging exclusively to the unique object. Mechanical
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reproduction, however, does not seek to repeat or
imitate this singular experience provoked by the
unique object’s essence, but rather to induce the
experience of singularity itself. In other words, as
cult objects, pre-modern things, whether original or
copies, remained the center of meaning. his is not
to say that they enjoyed the same intrinsic value,
but that they had a relative interchangeability given
their capacity to evoke similar experiences.
Modern copies, on the other hand, could care less
for the object, which they can reproduce to perfection, but which has been voided of its previous cult
status in the transit from tradition to modernity.
he diference, then, does not reside in the exactness of the copy (assuming that such verosimilitude
could replicate the efect of the original), but rather
on the kind of experience that the copy can produce
precisely as a copy, given that it is not a fake, pretending to pass for the original, but a modern copy,
that is, one without inferiority complexes.
Insofar as it produces copies of originals which
have lost their cult value to either exhibit or exchange
value, if not both, what mechanical reproduction still
seeks to elicit is the feeling of singularity, by which an
object is lived as something personal and individual
in an era of massive consumption. In this sense, the
modern object is no longer a cult object in the traditional sense but in the modern one: it becomes part
of what is known as commodity fetishism, where
the material and fragmentary relationship between
subject and object, despite taking precedence over
the more mystical and collective character of this
relationship in tradition, manages to retain these
qualities as part of its own seduction.
It isn’t easy to state this aspect of modernity
without falling into moral judgements such as we
have lost the capacity to relate cosmically or spiritually with the world, therefore we are worse of
than before, we are less human, more mechanical
and cold, and so on. Benjamin undoes this argument
as early as the 1930s by reairming the revolution2
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ary, democratic qualities of modern materialism
as opposed to a conservative idealism that thrived
on notions like authenticity. Authenticity, if there
was such a thing for Benjamin and I think this is
the case, would reside rather in the leftovers of the
experience of the world, instead of in a singularity
which is for him more than anything a utopic, not
to say Romantic, illusion.
5 » tHird nature
Yet the question of the relationship between the
modern original (and copy) and nature, specially
human nature, still remains, and here we go back to
the beginning of this talk (that is to say, we return
to the origins of my proposal), which at the same
time will bring us to its end. What happens when
nature is freed from this originating, [gestative],
normative (insofar as it determines what is authentic) quality, and taken instead as another element of
human constitution, a basic element of course, but
equally important to the experience which makes
of us cultural beings? Can we think of nature without immediately attaching to it the notion of origin
and its corollary of authenticity? In other words, is
it possible to unload nature of these concepts, not to
render it more ideal, but rather to enable it to be so
materially intertwined with the cultural that they
become undistinguishable, rendering obsolete the
notion of authenticity?
It is, of course, impossible to conceive of nature
outside culture, given that all that we consider natural is always/already, as the once-fashionable marxist vocabulary would have said, a cultural construction. From the moment it goes beyond the strictly
sensorial, our relationship to nature becomes a second-degree relationship, one that is not direct and
immediate, but iltered by culture. However, this is
a two-way street, since in the same way that nature
becomes cultural to our eyes and through our actions,
our own human nature is susceptible itself to this
change. hat is, our “original” nature is transformed
by culture in what is sometimes perceived as a “second
nature”, usually indicating that something outside
us has become such a part of ourselves that we now
consider it part of our very nature.
This second nature is no longer a biological
and non-socialized matter, but on the contrary, a
condition we’ve adapted to and whose familiarity renders it “natural”, but in a way that is understood as added, secondary as opposed to primary.
Benjamin, for example, declares modern technology
as our second nature, and his criticism of anti-modern
discourses (those which privilege authenticity over
repetition) is based precisely on this understanding. One cannot qualify mechanical repetition as
inhuman when it has become part and parcel of our
sensorial apparatus and through it of our nervous
system and our body, not to speak of our psyche, if
the psychoanalytic diagnose of obsessive neuroses
is correct.
In sum, our relationship to nature is not only
social in that it is mediated by language and culture,
but also proactive in that this relationship transforms nature but also transforms us. As it grows
and evolves, human nature necessarily changes from
essential to experiential, mixing the biological with
the cultural, and therefore exposing the notion of the
natural as something lexible and mobile, far from
the static and permanent essence imagined by the
idealist tradition.
In a context where origins are no longer the
basic determinant of subjectivity, since subjectivity is understood as being in constant transformation, in such a context, then, can we distinguish
between the authentic and the fake, the original
and the derived? I believe that, once the illusion of
the natural as something essential and uncontaminated by culture is shattered, such distinctions, and
the value judgements that go along with them, become
irrelevant. Faced with genetics, for instance, where
from unique beings we’ve become originals susceptible of being copied, originals carrying their own dupli-
cation code, how can we establish the limits between
a legitimate and an illegitimate humanity?
In cloning, unlike the robotics behind cyborgs
or replicants, there is no longer a mix of biological
and artiicial (that is, natural and cultural) because
it is all biological, made from our very own cells.
Rather than an artiicial gestation without copulation (the case of artiicial insemination) what we are
presented with in cloning is a duplicate reproduction
that presents all the attributes of the original raw
material, so to speak, without being such. In fact,
the term clone, from the Greek klôn, means twig as
in branch or in ofshoot, something that is reproduced by growth out of the same matter, which is
what happens in cloning, where the genetic code is
inserted in an ovule whose own [cellular code] has
been eliminated.
The clone is therefore not a copy, and much
less a fake: everything in it is as legitimate as the
original. In a way, then, cloning presents us the
paradox of two originals or of double (triple, quadruple and so on) originality, one that is no longer
associated with essence or uniqueness (authenticity
or singularity), but rather remits us immediately
to experience as the basic source of human subjectivity, that is, unless we think that even our way of
being is genetically predetermined, overruling the
impact of personal history.
With genetics, then, we have come to the other
end of the notion of origins, since here what matters, and what determines reproduction, is not the
beginning but the end, in the sense of the inal goal,
whether it is juicier lambs or custom-designed human
beings. Gone is the importance of human nature
as the essence of humanity--humanity is now understood as a raw material susceptible to fragmentation,
design, exchange and of course disposal. Humanity becomes a replacement part (a body part, quite
literally) in case of factory defect, goodbye to
that essential singularity on which modern identity stood for a couple of centuries, after all those
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when it believed it had an immanent relationship
to divinity.
Even the simulacre, that copy without original,
that virtual reality which postmodernity was so
proud of, even the very criticized simulacre is reduced
to a simple cultural convention when compared to a
genetical project where each element is programmed
(pre-programmed, in fact, since it was always this
way, we just didn’t know it) for an ininite duplication
in time and space. In genetics, origin and end meet
to produce the strangest duplicate, or ofshoot, of all
times, that which being equal to the original has none
of its entitlements, namely the right to subjectivity.
he clone is non-essential, non-foundational and nonoriginal. Denied these attributes considered proper
of human nature, reduced to being sheer matter, the
clone can only be a denatured original, or rather an
original that is only nature, nothing else.
What we are dealing with here is no longer
a second nature nor even a nature to the second
degree, where we could still ind an active relationship between nature and culture, but instead with
a nature that has a [tertiary] value. I would in fact
like to propose it as a third nature, in order to distinguish it from the irst, organic and sensorial, as well
as from the second, where the irst becomes social
and cultural, yet keeping the idea of nature as its
basic foundation. In third nature what we ind is a
manipulation of nature that has no cultural presence
other than itself: here the technological apparatus
has reached such perfection that it remains invisible, it does not form part of the body as in second
nature, it leaves no traces of its agency. To the point
that this third nature could easily be mistook for
the irst one: who will be able to distinguish a clone
from its originating source?
his third nature, which leaves the once revolutionary cyborg (half human, half robot) in the dust,
should not be considered only negatively, as if it
were the end of humanity. Instead, third nature can
be welcomed as an opportunity to rethink exactly
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what humanity should be built on, specially when
we see that after three thousand years of so-called
civilization, human beings destroy themselves with
more fury than ever before, something which, by
the way, distinguishes us radically from the other
animal species on the planet, far more attentive to
their own survival.
I would like to end with a couple of concrete
examples of what I consider diferent forms of third
nature. he irst is from the French artist Hubert
Duprat, who works constantly on the boundaries of
natural iction. One of his most outstanding works
is what he has done with the ???, which he manually
envelops with diferent elements of custom jewelry,
then waiting for the bejewelled creatures to shed this
layer of skin, usually known as the exoskeleton, or the
outer skeleton of invertebrates, in what is a totally
natural process. What is left is a carapace which
sits midway between organic and artiicial, being a
combination of both, but where human intervention
consists in letting nature take its course, even if to
come out with a very “unnatural” product.
It is a similar process to that of pearl farming,
where an object is artiicially inseminated into an
oyster to produce what is called a “cultivated pearl”.
Yet while this pearl is practically identical to a natural one, Duprat’s ??? do the opposite: while in both
the form is an organic residue whose content has
been manufactured or at least manually enhanced,
Duprat’s ??? emphasize the artiiciality of the mix,
whereas cultivated pearls erase it. Instead of seeking a natural efect, or to raise the status of the ???
by making them into objects (the case of the collections of natural history, where nature became
culture), Duprat has made a simple intervention
that escapes both irst and second natures, creating a hybrid of them both. his hybrid issued from
nature and culture, yet somehow surpassing them
both, is third nature.
Donald Lawrence’s pinhole photos of anemones and starish is another example of the peculiar
mix of nature and culture present in third nature.
At irst sight, one might think that his attempt to
reproduce the origins of photography (which started
with underwater photography in…), by resisting the
use of digital cameras and advanced technology, is
simply a nostalgic efort to recreate a “lo-tech” object.
Indeed, the visual texture of analog photography
has an onirical, dream-like quality (partly because
of its implied reference to 19th century photography) whose intensity deies the efect-laden gloss of
sophisticated technology, producing a strong feeling
of reality, of irst-degree or unmediated experience,
precisely by putting forward that opaqueness and
ambiguity which the perfection of hi-technology
continually seeks to deny and erase.
Yet rather than a comeback to a gloriied early
industrialization, that is, rather than a simple reaction to hi-technology, Donald’s photos, as most lotech art, is an attempt to grasp what technology
has repressed or left out, that murky, fuzzy layer of
reality constituted by our cultural imaginary. In its
reliance on a binary system that by deinition moves
between ixed meanings and their ininite combinations, yet leaving out the intermediate shades of gray,
hi-technology privileges the controlled and controlling fantasies of virtual reality, while ignoring the
unsettled and unsettling imaginary of day-to-day
realities. It is to these that lo-tech art speaks, and
Donald’s work shows it admirably, for here nature
is not redeemed as a forever-lost dimension, which
it is, nor theorized as a stratiied provider of meaning, as happened in modernity, but accepted and
presented as a highly cultural element of our collective unconscious.
For all their beauty, Donald’s anemones and
starish are eerily unreal: they carry the triple load
of nature, culture and a voluntary disinvestment
from, although not rejection of, technology. In them,
technology is present as an active absence, instead of
a passive one, which would be the case of 19th century photography, still innocent to the history that
would follow it. Like clones, Donald’s anemones and
starish could practically be 19th century originals,
yet they don’t quite make it there, nor seek to do
so, although we wouldn’t know that from looking at
them. In these photos, there are no traces of technology except for the implied desire to go beyond it, a
desire that, as contemporary spectators, we cannot
pretend to ignore, as we cannot deny our [thirst] for
use and cult value, those markers of foreign times.
Yet it is this desire, and the before-hand acceptance
of its impossibility in the haziness of the underwaterscape, that makes of these images third nature,
a nature that stopped being natural a long time ago,
yet basks in the glow of successive cultural appropiations and technological [misencounters; misses] as
the brightest star of an inner universe.
ol alqui aga, third nature or the end oF origins