Living through translated language

By Kate Lim

Living in a world that is intensely globalized, artists are obliged to communicate with the international art world in a language that is not their native tongue. To maintain a bank with a translated biography, exhibition records, critic’s essays of the works and artist’s statements is the sine qua non for promoting the artist to the international art scene. As we know, English is the most widely recognized language that these essential materials for artists are translated into. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the work of any non-English speaking contemporary artist is living a double life in their mother tongue and in the translated language.

Let us recollect the well-known episode of Pablo Picasso (1881-1973) and Henri Matisse (1869-1954). In the early 1900s when the two protagonists of Western modern art were on relatively friendly terms with each other, Gertrude Stein and her brother Leo Stein, famous modern art collectors who were living in Paris at the time, used to invite Picasso and Matisse to their Saturday soirées where artistic and literary circles gathered, drank and talked. We can visualize the party-comers’ chattering, talking enthusiastically about the Parisian art scene, joking and laughing –tonic for a Saturday evening’s social pleasure.

Unfortunately, this convivial atmosphere was painful for Picasso who was far from fluent in French and was self-conscious about his Spanish accent. Picasso had to “just say, oui, oui, oui, because Matisse talked and talked, and he couldn’t talk.” It is easy to imagine Picasso’s embarrassment and frustration in front of sophisticated art patrons, potential collectors, or critics for he was unable to eloquently explain his own work except by uttering monosyllables.

In stark contrast, Matisse was able to be totally in his element. Of course, language was no issue with him, and he could outshine his Spanish rival with his words. Picasso’s first lover Fernande Olivier recorded that “whereas Matisse displayed an astonishing lucidity of mind, was precise, concise and intelligent and impressed people,” Picasso would be “sullen and inhibited…he was easily irritated by people who tried to question him about this work.” I can envisage how severely Picasso’s pride would have been hurt by the clumsiness of his social performance simply because of his weak French.

When one speaks one’s mother tongue or has a brilliant command of a language at social occasions, one can “choose” to present a social side of oneself as one likes. One confidently moves around in a whole gamut of verbal emotions, perceptions and information so that one can engage with people more intimately. Language ability affects the scope of social engagement through which all humans express and communicate their ideas and feelings. Picasso’s sufferings remind me of many artists who are not very fluent in English and are often forced to stay awkwardly taciturn in a gay, talkative gathering of an English-speaking setting. Their usual perceptual and sensitive voice is muffled in often very limited and basic speech. They cannot truly be themselves.

More than a hundred years passed since Picasso had to brace himself in the face of his language impediment. Nowadays, fortunately, the ubiquity of artist’s bilingual websites has come to the rescue and helps the work of non-English speaking artist’s, including the majority of Korean artists, to be understood at a reasonable level. Not every artist has to go through Picasso’s embarrassment. In this regard, the availability of English translation is a relief to many Korean artists who keep their command of English at a minimum level.

On the other hand, since there is no authority that can check the quality of translation of art texts, a frightening amount of poorly or inadequately translated text is pumped out and disseminated. It is a strange reality come to think of it, because nobody really seems to care about the standard of English translation of art texts whilst almost every exhibition catalogue essay written in Korean perfunctorily has its English version published side by side.

The more serious lapse happens when the Korean text that is originally poorly written is translated into English, travestying the artist’s work. It makes me unbearably sad and angry to read such a text that has gone through this double downgrading. One of my most puzzling experiences when asked to translate Korean art essays into English is that the authors always tend to expect the translator to magically transfer the original Korean text into a “better” English writing. It is a mission impossible. The translated language is unable to spare the disgrace of the original text, and ultimately the artwork will be pitifully misrepresented.

Contemporary artists inadvertently commit themselves to translated essays and commentaries of their art. Consequently, they are thrown into the global arena where distinct sensibilities and perceptions embodied in their work are presented through the translated language. It seems to imply that artist should prove the worth of his or her work intermediated by a language in which they hardly thought or lived in during their art-making process. This is dangerous. One of the most simple and urgent things that the conscientious curator can do is to thoroughly go through the original Korean text, exert the editorial power to refine the text before it is tossed over to translation – for its English offspring will be a defining avatar of the artist on the international art scene.

Kate Lim is director of Art Platform Asia, an independent curator and art writer. Contact her at kate.yk.lim@gmail.com.