Approached from the top, through the most obvious channels and institutions, Hungarian art structures can give the impression of being stuck in a time warp, oblivious to international trends, and indifferent to contemporary art. The weakness of major institutions is however more than compensated for by the activities of medium size galleries, both non-profit and commercial, and small-scale independent spaces, as well as the dynamic initiatives of artists themselves.

Recently, one of the most compelling art works was on display in an alternative pub in Budapest. Following his return from a residency in Italy, Miklós Erhardt installed an elevated television set that instead of a screen had a bronze-coloured relief of Silvio Berlusconi holding forth. The artist felt the need to express his shock at the state of the media in Italy and chose to share his experience in a non-art environment. This little episode points to further aspects of Hungarian art, namely, that it can crop up in unexpected places, deal with very specific and diverse issues, and be directed at unsuspecting audiences.

It has long been the case that the most engaging and viable aspects of Hungarian art are not to be found at the level of official institutions, but rather hidden from them. The influence of legendary artist groups, such as Indigo from the 1980s and the fame of short lived underground spaces of the 1990s, such as Tűzolto utca, are a living legacy for contemporary art. Equally, the status of Miklós Erdelyi, the most influential figure for the present generation of Hungarian artists, fluctuates between cherished myth and fragmented memory, as there is no systematic published research on him. The same is true for conceptual art, which goes virtually unrecognised in art historical accounts and public museums, while the greatest collection of the period is stored on the laptop of the veteran dissident artist Tamás St.Auby in his PortableIntelligenceIncreaseMuseum.

It is therefore not surprising that contemporary art practice has a grassroots character, much of the best art production coming about through the artist’s own initiative. Independent spaces that effortlessly bring about transdiscipinary collaborations, are the quickest to respond to new angles on contemporary life. They thrive on the energy and contradictions of rapid social and economic change and are successful in presenting the freshest art projects. IMPEX, for example, is a fusion of several artist and architect-led initiatives and is strategically located in a building marked for future demolition as part of the unstoppable development and gentrification of the inner city.

On the other hand, the survival of what seem at first sight to be outdated local institutions has turned out to be a similarly successful strategy to preserve a space for freedom of action out of reach of the market mechanism. Budapest’s Liget Gallery is one of the most significant of these rare spaces with a direct link to the oppositional culture of late socialism. The gallery rejects neo capitalist behaviour and is instinctively ecological in outlook, stubbornly resisting the temptation to renovate and rebrand. It has a policy of declining big budget collaborations, tactfully encouraging artists and curators not to rely on expensive technologies to create a spectacle, and attempting to wean audiences off their habitual socialite attitude to art happenings.

Among the most active artists of the new generation, Tamás Kaszás appears individually, as well as in RugaNegra with an activist, in RandomRoutines with a French artist, and in joint projects with Anikó Loránt. His fluid collaborations signal a new mode of practice that is concerned with issues such as the history of political activism, institutional critique and the ecological imperative for sustainability, all of which require collective action. Motives for the Overproduction of Private Mythologies is an installation in which a conveyor belt runs uninterruptedly across the floor of the gallery into a skip, commenting on the overproduction of art objects as well as suggesting the fate of creative ideas in the contemporary art world.

Along with an awareness of the trend towards an increasingly structured art machine, there is a parallel notion of contemporary art accessible to all. The social position of Hungarian art is perhaps best indicated through the existing culture of free openings, rather than private views aimed at an exclusive audience. Research into the familiar faces that are regulars at vernissages, but remain enigmatic to the art crowd, has revealed a subculture of professionals who attend cultural events in order to satisfy daily needs for food and drink. Although this is not a unique phenomenon in Eastern Europe, here it has become the subject of an artwork that brings out the paradoxical role of art in providing social security, while reflecting the art scene’s own self-image of dependency.

Bemoaning the limited recognition of Hungarian contemporary art on the international circuit, local critics see a struggle dating back to the Second World War to break out of the ‘grey zone of second class Europeans’ and talk of the need for Hungarian art to rise above the personal and the parochial if it is to be relevant internationally. However, the presence of Hungarian art is actually much stronger, if our horizons are broader than participation in major events such as Dokumenta or Venice, as Hungarian artists are engaged in remarkable projects around the world. And, conversely, the Hungarian art scene itself is gradually becoming more open and diverse, with artists and curators from abroad choosing to be based there, and venues such as the Trafó Gallery and Műcsarnok/Kunsthalle successfully presenting leading international artists.

The latest generation of Hungarian artists and curators appears much more at ease with the language and mechanisms of the international scene than the pioneers of the first post-communist decade. They take the increased mobility and opportunities available in the new Europe for granted, and have circumnavigated the bureaucracy and conservatism of the local art establishment. Hungarian art is dealing with the complexes resulting from the decades of isolation and discovering the rich heritage of the art underground of the last century, and in doing so securing its position against the inroads of global monoculture.

Gergely László and Péter Rákosi, ‘Mr. X’ (2005).

József Mélyi, ‘Hungarian Art Abroad,’ in High Angled Lowlands: Current Art from Hungary ed. Bárnabas Bencsik (NBA / ACEX: Berlin, 2006), 12.