Without mirrors, lightboxes, or other things that glow in the dark, Jaar constructed one of his most minimal, yet emphatic projects. Negotiating modern and postmodern strategies, he constructed a great, room-sized rectangle. This immense austerity was produced by an enormous accumulation of ersatz passports. This great collection symbolized the restrictive nationalism of Finland. Compared to other European nations, Finland has the lowest number of immigrants and refugees. Maintaining inhospitable, restrictive policies, Finland has guarded its status quo at a time when other countries are re-examining their moral and political positions on refugees and exiles. The one million documents were, of course, replicas of actual passports. With their dimensions slightly altered, they could not easily pass for the real document. It was an ironic reflection of the nation's exclusive immigration policies. No one was going to pass as a legitimate traveler or tourist with one of Jaar's specially-produced booklets.
Assembled in a formidable arrangement, they collectively represented the number of people who have been turned away from Finland. Its great order represented the harmony and symmetry of the protected monolithic culture of Finland. It was only recently that the United Nations Human Rights Committee challenged Finland for its strict, repressive policies.
Because of the security threat, Jaar's installation was walled off behind tall glass. But this did not discourage one act of critical solidarity. A visitor tossed his own passport into the installation in a vivid demonstration of his political and psychological affiliation with the million aliens excluded by Finland's aged hermeticism.
From
"What is Found Here"
Patricia C. Phillips
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