Il-Kamra ta' Fuq is hosting Clint Calleja's second solo exhibition, Ġenesi 1011, until 3 November.
Calleja made a powerful debut with Anamnesis, his first solo show, held at Spazju Kreattiv in January-February 2023. Personally, it was one of the most moving exhibitions I've ever experienced in Malta. While I hesitate to label it the "best ever", it certainly resonated with me in a way no other exhibition has. It took me days to process. The way Clint transformed deeply personal tragedies and traumas into compelling works of art was something I had never encountered before.
I've had the pleasure of working with Clint on various group exhibitions, and I must say, I'm a huge fan of his work. Interestingly, his pieces always seem to make it to the exhibition just in the nick of time, almost miraculously. One particular instance was when Clint was experimenting with solar etching, creating moon prints using sunlight. We went through a rare stretch of cloudy days - a strange occurrence for an island that usually enjoys 300 days of sunshine a year - but Clint managed to finish just in time. He even framed the prints in a large frame with museum glass, though, of course, the glass shattered right before delivery. But he still pulled it off! More stories for next time.
To be clear, Clint is incredibly professional and fully committed to meeting deadlines. It's just that life often throws unexpected challenges his way!
As I write this, just five days before the opening of Ġenesi 1011, I've had the chance to view two completed artworks and catch glimpses of details of a few others and I know some others are still in progress. We're expecting seven sculptures in total, but even if we end up with fewer - two, five or even none - the strength of the concept alone would still make the exhibition a success. In fact, one could easily imagine the plinths standing empty, and it would still provoke meaningful discussion.
The concept draws a parallel between the biblical story of the Tower of Babel and the complexities of our modern digital age, with all its triumphs and challenges. In the Genesis narrative, humanity, united by a common language, sets out to build a tower reaching the heavens, symbolising collective ambition. However, their efforts crumble when their language is confused, communication breaks down, and the tower remains unfinished, leaving division and chaos in its wake. This exhibition taps into that ancient story, holding a mirror to our present, where the rapid rise of digital technology both connects and fractures us in profound ways.
In today's world, we are united by a new common language: binary code, the foundation of our digital existence. Technology, once a connector, is now both a unifier and a disruptor, influencing everything from daily life to global politics and conflict. This exhibition poses a critical question: Could the digital "tower" we are building, like the Tower of Babel, eventually collapse under the weight of its own complexity? As the digital world reshapes power dynamics, personal connections, and even warfare through hacking and cyber conflict, the fragility of this structure becomes increasingly apparent.
Just three weeks ago, the world was shaken by the tragic news from Lebanon, where exploding pagers caused countless deaths and injuries. In the minutes after my initial shock and disbelief, I couldn't help but think about how timely and relevant Clint's concept is. The very tools that are meant to connect us are becoming actual weapons of destruction.
Another disturbing case occurred just some days ago when live news broadcasts were able to transmit live feeds awaiting missile strikes aimed towards Israel. I am still disturbed by my own behaviour or the absurd scenario that I found myself in. While waiting for my pizza delivery (which I ordered through a convenient digital app), from the comfort of my sofa, all of a sudden I found myself watching this real-life news broadcast, seeing these missiles hitting Israel's Iron Dome, like Russian roulette, missiles being intercepted in real-time, one after another. I had to remind myself every two minutes that no this is not a movie, that this is real, that technology and our communications tools are so good that broadcasting devastation and destruction is like watching an episode of reality TV. What disturbs me, even more, is the paradox of it all: despite the astonishing advancements in our communication tools, allowing us to witness these events unfold in real-time, we still seem incapable of using these same tools to communicate effectively enough to prevent conflict and wars.
Then there's the amazing elephant in the room - AI. With constant advancements and upgrades, we have to wonder: where will this ever-evolving tool take us next? We are already navigating a seriously disorienting stage in our new digital tower. It's becoming a struggle to distinguish what is real from what is not. For example, when browsing art on platforms like Instagram, we now find ourselves checking descriptions to see if the work was created by a human or generated by a machine.
This extends to social media, where anyone has the power to spread news, often without any editorial oversight to verify what is factual. From identity theft to DDoS attacks, the digital world is rife with complexities and risks. But at the heart of it all, it comes down to how we choose to use the powerful tools we've created. While I may have taken a more pessimistic turn in this article, it's important to remember that the good born from our digital language - the beloved binary code - is immeasurable. The language remains the same; it's how we, as humans, decide to wield it, for better or for worse.
Back to the tower - the Tower of Babel has been a recurring theme throughout the history of art. Just to name a few, perhaps the most imposing representations are by Pieter Bruegel the Elder and Marten Van Valckenborch. It also appears in medieval manuscripts and in the works of more contemporary artists, such as Alexander Mikhalchyk.
In Ġenesi 1011, Calleja's sculptures embody this ancient narrative through a modern lens, constructed from porcelain and copper. Porcelain, symbolising the earth from which the biblical tower was built, reflects our connection to the physical world, while copper, essential for modern digital communication, highlights the flow of information in the virtual age. On the surface of these towers, binary code - the language of machines - translates the biblical text, blurring the lines between the ancient and the modern. These inscriptions are painstakingly done by hand into each mould that Clint used to create each of the towers, symbolising how old stories are continuously retold and reshaped in our digital world.
Ultimately, the tools themselves are neutral. It is how we, as individuals and societies, decide to use them that determines whether they contribute to progress and understanding - or create confusion and conflict.
For more information visit the social media pages of il-Kamra ta' Fuq... and that's a good way how to use digital communication!