What does communism smell like? How about the Sun, or Cleopatra’s perfume, or the atomic blast that destroyed the city of Hiroshima? This booklet, published on the occasion of the exhibition If There Ever Was, attempts to bring distant, elusive, and sometimes impossible olfactory experiences to life. Curator Robert Blackson commissioned thirteen fragrances from eleven perfumers and smell artists, including Bertrand Duchaufour, Christophe Laudamiel, Christoph Hornetz, Mark Buxton, Sissel Tolaas, and Geza Schön. If, like me, you missed the show at the Reg Vardy Gallery, this booklet gives you a chance to smell them all in the comfort of your own home.
Each scent of the exhibition is encapsulated in a scratch-n-sniff card, and comes with a short explanatory text. What these fragrances have in common is that they all refer to objects that are absent from our experience: they represent things that are temporally and/or spatially remote. There are no traces, for instance, of the original recipe to Cleopatra’s perfume; we can only guess what it really smelled like, just like we can't detect the odor of the Sun (nor of an atomic blast, for that matter) from up close. The stories, objects and concepts behind these fragrances show that what is beyond our physical reach, or what seems lost forever, can be brought to life through smell: the key is to translate olfactory imagination into a real, odorant illusion.
A nice example is the story of the unidentified object that crashed in a farmer’s wet field near the Peruvian town of Desaguadero in 2007. The violent impact produced a large crater that filled with boiling, noxious smelling groundwater. Speculations on the nature of the object that fell from the sky (was it a Chilean missile? a US spy satellite? a fireball containing alien microbes?) went hand in hand with complaints of physical ailments among the local population. Research revealed that the impact had been caused by a meteorite that hit a pocket of arsenic buried in the soft mud; the gas released from this deposit came up through the groundwater and released the stench. Mark Buxton recreated the smell of the Peruvian meteorite; I can't say what he did exactly, but I assume he left out the foul smell of arsenic gas (which is supposed to smell like garlic) and the muddy pool. Somehow, the smell of the meteorite reminds me of freshly applied auto body filler material (but I could be completely wrong here).
Robert Blackson is primarily interested in the production of olfactory representations, and in that light he sees modern day perfumers as true artists: “Modern perfumers’ artistic appetite for the abstract and unexplainable is what separates their interest from flavourists and binds the world of contemporary fragrances with contemporary art” (p. 3). He briefly discusses the discreditation of smell in Western philosophy (leaning heavily on Constance Classen’s book Aroma), and makes a few comments on smell in contemporary aesthetic discourses.
The exhibition at the Reg Vardy Gallery recently drew the attention of Nasa: they were impressed with Steven Pearce's reconstruction of the smell of the Mir space station, and asked him to create the smell of space for their astronauts in training. It may sound trivial, odd, or perhaps even irrelevant to us mortals here on Earth; but smell research is indeed applied in areas that go far beyond the world of fine fragrances and laundry detergents. In fact, the story of Susanne Böden shows how scent has already been used in the past by oppressive regimes for tracking down and identifying suspects or fugitives: in the former German Democratic Republic, it was common practice for the Stasi to take samples of people's body odor during interrogations. Bits of smelly fabric were kept in labeled jars; many of those survived the fall of the Berlin Wall, and as a result, scent artist Maki Ueda was able to reproduce the smell of Ms. Böden's olfactory record. Clearly then, biopower is no science fiction; in combination with DNA and iris-scans, human scent profiles may soon become instrumental in exercising control over people. (See Octavian Coifan's comment on this very same topic!)
As a physical document, If There Ever Was is almost as dynamic as a living object: after intensive use it produces a rather nauseating cacophony of smells that (I assume) will eventually die out. Currently, my copy emanates a candy-like odor of red fruits, but it still changes every time I scratch a new card. Above all I think it's an audacious experiment, in that it tries hard to prioritize the discursiveness of smell over language. The result is like a “cabinet of intangible curiosities”, as Blackson puts it; but more than that, I think it showcases the future of smell in art and biotechnology. This fascinating little book tickles the mind as well as the nose.
If There Ever Was… a book of extinct and impossible smells
Surrey (UK): Art Editions North (2008)
Hardcover, 41 p.
This sounds really interesting.
I find it a genial idea.
A creative take on the evocative powers of fragrances, I can’t wait to try it.
If I'm not mistaken, I read on the Italian newspaper Repubblica that he has been asked by NASA (or some other BIG aerospace centre) to reproduce the smell of space (i.e. spacecrafts). The aim would be to add an additional realistic note to astronauts' training programs.
I imagine buying such kind of perfume…
What will I smell like today?
Like space, stars and galaxies….
An absolutely fascinating idea. I want the book.
It's available through Cornerhouse in the UK. More info here: http://tinyurl.com/3ucgc8
As you suggest, the smell of space referred to here is probably more like the smell of “depressurization in orbit”. Allegedly, several astronauts who returned from their spacewalk reported the “smell of fried steak, hot metal and even welding a motorbike” while de-suiting and taking off their helmets inside the space station. (See this article in Telegraph.co.uk: http://tinyurl.com/4c2uu7.) Fried steak… who'd have thought? 🙂
I'm very sceptical about all those perfumes created based on empires (Parfums d'Empire) or this one exhibition / books. What does communism smell like? I was born in a country which at the time was under Russia occupation. When I was 12 we moved to democracy & capitalism. How did the smell changed? Nohow. Lithuania was Lithuania under Russia or in EU. That is scentless. And only wild imagination can carry a creation of an absent scent. Scent for something so big involving history, people, land culture. There are no associations in smell with my country's & mine past or present. Only scentless memories. I dont buy the idea of this type perfumes. Nevertheless I try it and evaluate out of the context. It is only marketing to me. I did try Parfums d'Empire and loved Ciur Ottoman.
There is a smell in my memory I have associated with communism – the strange stale smell of rooms furnished with formica tables, particle board cabinets, veneer chairs and hard, scratchy carpet or pale green-gray-something lino 🙂 Plus the food and the indestructible stench of old dish rag from the lunchroom. The mixture accompanied me from nursery to kindergarten to school, and I remember it from my visits to the offices and factories, it was all the same everywhere.
But everybody has their own memories. Some might name the smell of air in the industrial regions, old cars (grandpa's two-stroke Wartburg, damn, that thing was a STINKER), the hot concrete of the panel houses in the summer. Or the perfumes you could get, there was a line of cheap, omnipresent floral fragrances, whose name is still used as a synonym of a pungent scrubber 🙂
I don't think I would like this. Exploring the scents would be interesting, but it would annoy me to not *know* exactly what Cleopatra's perfume smelled like, if the perfume in the book is anything close, etc.
That was a bleach 🙂 I dont remember any such particular smell following me everywhere. I do have scents that brings me memories but those a related to my personal life and experience. Are you saying once capitalism came to your country, the smell of cars or hopitals are different? BTW, can I ask where are you from? 🙂
The high percentage of things are the same like they were 15 years ago. Some of the things has changed not because of capitalism but because things changes with time. There is a room for improvement and innovations. But not as big that I would relate McDonalds with America, bleach with Russia and beer with Germany. Those are only and disappointingly stereotypes to my opinion.
It's more the smell of childhood than smell of communism – I was a kid when the wheels turned. Of course the smells did not go away overnight, I still encounter them from time to time. I think it's really about the materials used then and now, furniture and carpets evolve, chemicals get prohibited, maybe it was formaldehyde and phtalates we were sniffing in the kindergarten, who knows 🙂
There's another smell I remember, the smell of food stores – my father was a truck driver, delivering supplies to the shops in and around the city, sometimes he took me with him. The storages in today's supermarkets – sometimes I get a whiff when shopping and the have the door open – smell just the same, so it's certainly not about regime. So you're right, things just change.
(I'm Czech, btw.)
Oana, I think this exhibition was meant first and foremost as an artistic exercise. The perfumers involved in this project were asked to create olfactory representations of remote or impossible objects, or even abstract concepts. Conceptual reconstructions can be rooted in material reality (a sort of olfactory archaeology), but they can transcend it as well. I believe that the “smell of communism” made by Sissel Tolaas falls in the latter category; it's not the scent of a specific soap bar, the interior of a Trabant or what have you (which risk to become very stereotypical indeed), but rather her personal reflection on the restricting effects of a sociopolitical system/ideology on material commodities (and consequently, on smell culture). I think she was actually trying to answer the question: what happens when two politically/ideologically segregated worlds meet? The liner notes are intentionally unclear on what exactly the odour tries to mimic, but they seem to suggest that she drew inspiration from her recollection of the Friedrichstrasse subway station in East Berlin, which had a transfer platform for West Berliners; it was the only place for West Berliners to get a “whiff” of this otherwise secluded part of the city.
Yes, I understand but that's exactly why I am sceptical about it. Though I am really intrested in trying those scents 🙂 . The idea is nice and slightly utopic. I love history. But the public is eager for something new. It is only my opinion and it is not something anyone really have to agree. I like variety of opinions and tastes.
Selina, thanks for sharing your fragrant memories! I know the smell of two-stroke engines you mentioned earlier, and agree that these things are, in themselves, not confined to (or defined by) specific regimes. I guess you could say that smell recollections are situational, rather than universal.
I think I understand your skepticism, Oana. Works like these – some may call them postmodern – always generate opposed reactions. I find it hard to let some of the odours in this book “speak for themselves”. In some cases, I found myself more interested in the narratives behind them.
FYI: the Cleopatra perfume in this book is a take on Kyphi. And it smells very nice!
I've had this book on my nightstand for about a month now – ever so often, when it's a rainy day and I'm in a mysterious mood I'll randomly pick up the book and read the passage and rub my hand across the smell strip and inhale.
It's a fascinating book and I will always treasure it.
Yes, some of the smells (and stories) are weird and quite emotional. One of them had me in tears.
I'm not sure that I'll actually ever buy the book, but I'm incredibly riveted by your review of it and the comment discussion here. Thank you, Marcello. I love exactly this type of discussion and projects exploring the intersection of culture and art — especially artistic abstraction. I would very much welcome more exhibitions of olfactory art; it's not something I hear much about, but maybe it's starting to become more common in some cities. A project like this reminds me also that museums and various types of art (dependent on media and origin) often have quite evocative and unique smells. Again, very intriguing. Thanks.
It's a shame those scents won't last forever. Just out of curiosity: what does your copy smell like when you “fan” the pages of the book?
My pleasure, Joe. It seems that olfactory exhibitions are indeed becoming more common, especially in big cities like London and New York. I've read about five or six of them in the past two years.
I have lived in the Czech Rep. for a few years and have some more months to go and one smell is very particularly present at the countryside far away from modern places and that is the smell of lignite! That is a very particular heady scent and it seems to be everywhere, in each street, each room, even on the surrounding lands.
Lignite plus boiled cabbage form a very partiular combination.
Thank you Marcello for your review of this book, very interesting material.
My pleasure, Marianne! Lignite… I'm not sure there was any of that stuff in my childhood in the Netherlands, but I do recall learning about it in school.
You mean burning lignite? From heating? Many houses have coal boilers and yes, the smell is almost everywhere. In winter I mean. I'm so used to it I usually don't notice it anymore.
Yes that 'brown' lignite. It is a very peculiar and specific smell. And causes the worst air pollution too.
In the Netherlands they used black lignite in the '50s and before and that had a different smell.
It's a very interesting idea, but I agree that basing compositions on generalities could be less interesting than on particulars, our specific and personal scent memories. That may just become a popular new genre. Like a poetry of olfaction…
Thanks for clarifying, Marianne!
Yes, there could actually be a market for specific “scent memories”!