We are happy to participate in the 33rd annual holiday event Miracle on Madison Avenue this Saturday, December 7th, from 11am to 5pm. Baahng Gallery presents works by R.C.Baker, Brian Dailey, Alexis de Chaunac, Yooah Park, Jack Pierson, and Zhang Hongtu.
The annual event sees galleries, restaurants and boutiques along Madison Avenue open up their doors to jump-start the holiday season while raising funds for charity. As a partner in the Miracle, we have pledged to donate 20% of the day’s sales to support the pediatric initiatives of the Society of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center.
We look forward to seeing you in our gallery at this festive event and send you our best holiday wishes.
– Baahng Gallery congratulates Zhang Hongtu on inclusion of an edition of his Mai Dang Lao, 2002, in the permanent collection at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.
– An edition of Zhang Hongtu‘s Mai Dang Lao, 2002, is currently on view at the Arts of Asia in Brooklyn Museum.
June 2019, Vol. 235, P8
I believe the artist’s job is to inquire, question, though, there may not be an answer. In fact, I would rather be worn out than rotting away. In my work, hundreds of thousands of fingerprints must be painted in order to create a work and this process is to me a performance of penance, love, art, and the life itself.
Have you always used fingerprints as a painting technique?
I was born and raised in the countryside of Gwangju, a province of Korea. When I was young, I used to play with charcoal, basically soots left from burning woods which was the main means of heating or cooking. And I used to make drawings in dirt or on paper with my hands, more precisely finger tips. I remember that drawing with my fingers felt liberated but also fun. Since then, I kept on using fingers to draw and paint throughout up to college days in art classes. I produced, I thought, better works by using fingers than using brushes. More importantly though, it was that awesome feeling of soft touch on canvas which in turn making imagination a reality, a work of art, with mere finger tips. What a wonderful feeling that was! I was mesmerized by this irresistible sensation felt from heart to tips of fingers, then back from the tips of fingers to heart.
What is the difference from using a regular paintbrush?
One of the most beautiful tools that human beings are endowed with is our body. And most sophisticated means of communication is with body gestures that express feelings and thoughts. I feel most connected with my art when I use fingers instead of brushes. It is most direct way of communicating myself with my creation, an art. It eliminates unnecessary intermediaries between me and my art.
What thoughts accompany your artistic gesture?
Style of painting does not really matter to me, I am more interested in what I choose to draw as subjects. I am also not concerned with where I may belong in terms of, so called, a mainstream art. My artistic gestures are rather instinctive. I am after the ultimate sentiment shared between artist and viewer.
You have a special relationship with food, flavors and scents. How does this relate to your artworks?
Actually, SCENTS is not related or referred to food, flavors, or pregnancies. It is about scents of all beings in the universe. Humans, animals, plants, do communicate with their scents for affection to survival. And scents are uniquely unique that no beings ever share exactly same scents as if they are the authentic markings for each beings.
What themes do you address in SCENTS, your new exhibition in Venice?
As curator Jennifer Baahng states, SCENTS addresses “Profound and Mysterious” in all of us. SCENTS attempts to visualize scents of universal beings and deities in temporal as well as spatial dimensions, presenting scrims made up of endless finger stamps. SCENTS offers an artist’s glimpse of journey to enlightenment in life by conferring joy of labor and deliverance of compassion
January 2009, Thomas Butter Interviews Jack Sal
INTERVIEW WITH TOM BUTTER
TB: Last night you opened a wonderful exhibition at Zone: Contemporary- 41 West 57thStreet New York, NY, which runs until February 28, 2009. Could you talk about how you chose to structure this exhibition?
JS: The idea is to make use of the main gallery space as a site-specific installation. At first it might appear to be a traditional painting show, but on further inspection it becomes apparent I am using the language of painting in the context of a gallery for other purposes. What I am interested in most of my work is to question the conditions of how we experience things, including art, using the language of our formalistic experiences of looking at art. We are all taught by being exposed to a modernist experiences, for example going to MoMA as a kid, or looking at “Mondrian” dresses and the like, and to experience things on a formal level, but not necessarily to question the contextual aspect of what that formal language might be. For me the idea of doing an exhibition on 57thSt., 15 years after having had my last exhibition in a photo gallery (Light Gallery), is to make use of the language of painting, but still keep the ideas of perception and vision that have interested me in photography. Ideas of time, space, and measurement.
TB:You said to me at the opening that they are not really paintings.
JS: They are objects that make use of the materials and language of painting. So, for instance they are all “formatted” canvases- 5’ X 6’ units, or 2’ x 3’ units, made as diptychs- two units placed together, and then, divided.
TB: The joint is very important for each one.
JS: The physical division of the canvas goes along with the formal division of the canvas. The drawing and the object are one in the same…they are not separated. They are both figure and ground- similarly, gesso is used as a painting material…as opposed to using pigment in oil, or acrylic. Gesso is part of the vocabulary of painting as well.
TB: That makes sense to me. It is important to also understand that you also added a surface.
JS: Tape, which I have used as an element in my work for almost 10 years, comes from the idea of using a physical element (the tape) to create line. Drawing with objects, as opposed to drawing with my hand.
TB: You are referring to the tape as an object, then.
JS: As an “object element”, instead of drawing a graphite line, you put down this piece of tape and it becomes both a line- which is abstract, but also a physical object because it also occupies space on top of the canvas.
TB: It’s a little thicker.
JS: And it has an edge, and has its own format the way the drawing surface has a format. It reiterates not only its own self, but makes a reference to its support at the same time. In the canvas pieces, it goes even further, because the tape takes on the color of raw canvas, at first.
TB: At first.
JS: At first, and then it changes as well. It changes positions as the viewer moves in relation to the painting.
TB: You see that it is reflective, that it has a different weave.
JS: It has a dominant weave. The canvas has an interlocking weave, but the tape has a “plus and minus” weave- one direction over the other, one layer over the other. In the silk, you can see the dominance of one weave over the other…
TB: Depending on the angle of viewing.
JS: Yes, in the light…so it comes back to photography. The idea of using the vocabulary of photographic practice; frame, light, object/image has always been a touchstone in my work.
TB: I have known you for many years, and after having looked at your website and studying the show last night I feel I finally understand that your work is incredibly close to formalism, but you also diverge radically from it. I never understood this before.
JS: It always looked too formal?
TB: Not too formal. Formal.
JS: I’m a skeptical formalist.
TB: I was going to say “conceptual formalist”. You have the feel, and the taste, and the look, but not the thought. The thought diverges slightly…
JS: It doesn’t have the rigidity of thought, in the sense of an ideology…
TB: It doesn’t adhere to the ideology.
JS: It questions the ideology.
TB: But I had an idea I wanted to propose to you.
TB: It is seductive to me. The thing that modifies the “received wisdom” or “rules” of formalism is touch. Touch is the thing that travels through all the work…what you call “mark-making”, described formally, is actually touch.
JS: Yeah. It is touch, and it is the humanity. In the “hand work”, there is the evidence of a kind of non-control, of accident, of things that are allowed to happen through interaction, rather than reaction.
TB: Are you willing to say that interaction is an aspect of touch?
JS: Oh yes! To me, formalism is reaction, and the touch, or the “hand mark” is interaction.
TB: It brings to mind a piece you made titled “Re/Place”. It is a piece about your parents living in that city after the war to a building that wasn’t bombed. You have a piece of bronze embedded in the sidewalk, that people touch with their feet, now. For me the point is that people can touch that as they walk by…
JS: Yes. The text is above, but there are marks inscribed into the bronze. Part of the idea is the question of whether or not the Germans would walk on something, almost desecrating it, but also that they would have to look under their feet, instead of just walking along.
JS: Whenever I talked about doing something about the war in Germany people would look down, when you would talk to them. The idea of doing something on the ground made sense. The piece is placed directly outside the building where my parents lived after the war, in Max Weber Platz. The concept was to do something that is not up on a wall, or on a column, but actually part of the surface of the everyday…
TB: The other piece I was thinking about connected to this question of touch is the one in Kielce, Poland- called “White/Wash II – A Memorial for the Victims of the 1946 Pogrom”
JS: I had an exhibition 3 years before called “Whitewash”.
TB: Right. You worked with students.
JS: Yes, from the Academy there…using materials from the Jewish industrial district existing before the war including a lime quarry which was owned by a Jewish family…This quarry was nationalized after the war and turned into a “nature park”. And so wasn’t returned. For the monument, I made a structure out of hand-made concrete blocks because before the war there was a Jewish factory operating in Kielce that made concrete blocks. The ones for the monument are made in the same way they would have been before the war. The structure is built up out of units having irregular surfaces; it looks like a monolith, but is actually made of many separate elements.
TB: It has metal parts…
JS: Lead. Just like what is hung on the wall as you get off the elevator at Zone: Contemporary. Part of the controversy is that the city of Kielce and Poland itself have difficulty confronting a massacre, which happened in 1946. This was a year after the war was over. The rumor was that Jews in this building in Keilce were killing Christian children for blood to make matzos. Even though this was July, and Passover is in March…To this day, the Polish government refuses to acknowledge the number of people who died in the riot, which occurred at this site. When I did this work, the official “truth committee”, the committee which deals with war-time events, refused to acknowledge the 42 victims of the massacre, claiming, for example, that some victims died outside of city limits, or they wouldn’t count the fetus of someone was pregnant, even though she was close to term. On the official bronze plaque for the monument, there is no number. Instead as part of my original concept, and one that I held to, there are 42 lead plates, each one representing a victim. They are attached randomly to all 6 sides. The monument is in the shape of a “7” on its side because the pogrom occurred in July, the 7thmonth, at 7 Planty St. The building where the Jews were living is actually an L shape. The monument is a visual representation of the date, the street and the physical shape of the building.
TB: The form derives completely from events, and in that sense is political.
JS: That is due to the context. If I were working in a gallery, it would make absolutely no sense to make a political statement.
TB: So by applying the same elements to different situations, your intent is to illuminate the various situations.
JS: Yes, I think that is what one does in all one’s activities. You use your sense of self, and your sense of thought and you apply them to all your activities.
TB: But this is not exactly the modernist program.
JS: No, and that is part of the collapse of modernism-which is a democracy of language, but not a democracy of intent. This is where it breaks down. As an artist, one has to accept history, but not the consequences. Even within aesthetics or concepts within art, you can accept, be interested in, and apply, the ideas of modernism, but not necessarily accept the conclusions. Hopefully you will be able to break out and expand the vocabulary.
TB: So for example I’m thinking of the Barnett Newman piece made of the barbed wire….
JS: It was commemorate/protest the ’68 riots surrounding Democratic convention. It was so un-Barnett Newman-like that it was brilliant! If Barnett Newman had made a “Barnett Newman” for the ’68 political riots, it would have been redundant, like the Picasso dove…but Newman was so aware of the power of image and symbolism that he new that what he had to respond to wasn’t himself, but the event. The same goes for the “Obelisk”. I think Newman’s “Obelisk” was his response to his culture: historical, personal, being a New Yorker, learning about art at the MET. That was his symbol representing “Barnett Newman as a cultural being”. Whereas the paintings were about being Barnett Newman as a spiritual, cultural man, represented as an individual, notas a member of society.
TB: Newman is a touchstone for you…
JS: Newman is a pivotal personality the way Cezanne was, because he accepted the limitations of his vocabulary for its profundity, and notfor its limits.
TB: Not as an end in itself.
JS: And he was willing to take on those limits even when they led him astray aesthetically. For example, those triangular paintings are horrific. But he was willing to invest in them.
TB; Because it was an expansion…
JS: It was an expansion, and then he goes back to what he knows and does. That’s interesting to me. Larry Poons is an example of the reverse in a secondary, narrow viewpoint. He does one thing, and when that thing stops, his work just implodes. Those blips reallyworked, and there is an idea there. But then it implodes on itself. It doesn’t go anywhere. And then, there is this whole other thing happening in his work we don’t want to talk about. (laughs)
TB: So getting back to your show. The lead pieces coming off the elevator, “Whitewash III”…the lead has a very tactile presence, and they are screwed to the wall in a very particular way. I took it as a reference to Ryman, which was amusing. But I found them to be very direct and satisfying to have them bolted that way, with small hex-head bolts. You mentioned the piece in Kielce earlier having the same lead elements- I take it that your reference here is a deep reference.
JS: Yeah. I take the 7 pieces in the gallery as representing 7 of the 42 pieces. For me, the idea would be to bring those 42 victims out into the world. The work in Kielce is permanent.
JS: Hopefully those 42 pieces of lead installed there won’t go anywhere. They will remain a marker of those victims there. But the idea is that you could bring those 42 victims out into the world, and they would get distributed to museums and other venues, is for me part of the power of art. It literally transports them.
TB: That is very direct.
JS: But it is also very subtle. I don’t want to be didactic- I don’t want to say, “Whitewash III the 42 victims of Kielce” I try to limit the references in the work to the direct experience of it, rather than focus on an explanation of it. I try to keep the titles very site-specific, and then use my “word-play” in a very tight way as well.
TB: You are not averse to making the connection with me today.
JS: No not at all. But I am averse to creating some kind of “language sign system” for the viewer.
TB; You want the experience to be a direct empirical experience.
JS: Yes, and the reference is intended to be made by the viewer’s interaction with, and connection to the work over time; not by me guiding them by the nose! When I title it “Whitewash III”, unless someone is totally out of touch, and doesn’t want to doany kind of research on the contextual implications of my work, they would make the connection between ”Whitewash II” the monument, with its lead pieces, and these lead pieces.
TB: Right. And the lead piece in the back room?
JS: That comes from a series I did in 1989, which were part of a large installation (New Art/New Material-North Carolina State University, Raleigh, NC). Some of it was lead, and other panels were made of a material that blocked ultraviolet light. They had photo paper under them, and that made a black mark. The panels were unattached, so you could see the image being exposed on the photo paper. The lead pieces like the one in the gallery had white marks. I have shown these lead pieces over the years because the pigment has interacted with the lead, and left a trace of the mark. So after years, the lead has also become chemically photosensitive, and interacted with the material. There is the traceof my hand-mark left. I have been using lead because photo paper is essentially silver suspended in gelatin. I have always tried to treat the photo paper as both an interactive retainer of light, andas a physical object: it tarnishes, gets a physical patina, and reacts. The lead is an extension of that interest- to be another kind of reactive material.
TB: So the photo paper can be touched by light, this is another kind of touch that becomes visible.
TB: I want to keep emphasizing the qualities of “touch” in your work. It flies below the radar, and I think it has a constant repeating force in the work.
JS: It’s true. Even when there isn’t any “hand” touch in the work, there is a reactive element of paper, or salt, or some physical thing that causes things to happen beyond the control of the maker, or the viewer. The art has a life of its own…either materially, or conceptually. We are all viewers, whether makers or not.
TB: Well art goes on, it continues. But aren’t you talking about inserting something that is subversive?
JS: What I am doing questions the permanency of things. Our experience in the 20th-21stcenturies is that we recognize and acknowledge the ephemeral qualities of life. Part of the problem of modernism is that it tries to arrest the ephemeral. Ironically, sometimes the best touchstone of that ephemeral quality is the very permanency that modernism proposes. I’m trying to make things that look as if they are in the legacy of modernist iconography, while they are actually changing in front of your eyes. Either they are changing because they have physical qualities that when you move they change, like the way the tape does on the large pieces, or when you assumeyou are looking at a painting but then realize the space between them is a drawing although it isn’t made like a drawing; suddenly the space becomes line, which is a division. Without sounding too self-referential, the idea of using panels like this not only comes from modernism, but also comes from spending time in Italy, and looking at Renaissance, and pre-Renaissance panel painting. I live part of the year close to Assisi, where the Giotto’s are. The Franciscans implemented the use of a panel-narrative style. Understanding that many people were illiterate, they used methods of preaching through illustration. There was an emphasis on episodic events in sequence. The connection between them comes from a kind of program. So the format of things is not the by-product of architectural structure, they do not serve as decoration. Programming is part of the language- in this case, it serves a dogma. Painting is not used merely as illustrative means of depicting a story- but by its very framing, its presentation it is used to direct a certain point of view, a certain program.
TB: And you are saying that is separate from narrative?
JS: Yes, it’s separate from narrative because in earlier painting overlapping events would take place simultaneously on the same canvas/panel- a donor would show up twice in the same painting- in 2 different events. The Franciscans broke that down because they knew that by making the stories more focused, more episodic, you could preach from one event to the other. You could go through the year preaching sermons following the panels.
TB: So how does that bear on your thought?
JS: That our experience of art objects is also episodic. Even though we carry with us a history of art, a history of our own experiences in life, when you approach an object you have an episodic experience. That experience is framed by the space, by the time, and the object in front of you. It is similar to site-specificity, or installation, but it uses the language of the traditional art objects and their formal qualities as well- i.e. Painting. I am not “breaking the glass” between art and reality the way that occurs in other art installations.
TB: So that the installation becomes the only world there is…
JS: And it comes to occupy what I would call a “furniture world; I’m interested in creating a site-specific aesthetic experience that recalls formal art.
TB: Recalls looking at art in a museum.
JS: Yes, that’s our alter; going to a museum is like going to church. That is where we are quiet and pay attention, and think of the past. Bruce Nauman is a very important influence because Bruce’s interest in the life of the studio is paramount in his work. He is about what happens in the studio. I came to the conclusion that I didn’tlikethe studio. It was too private. What goes on in the studio for me did not have enough of the experience of what excited me about going to see art.
TB: Is the studio a space which is too subjective, or inward or mental? Did you want a social vector?
JS: It really came down to the experience of standing in front of a Rothko at Yale Art Gallery, and being overwhelmed. Thinking thisis what art is about. I didn’t get that experience standing in front of my drawing table. The contextadded to the experience. Nauman’s take on studio activity is phenomenal! He talks about the life of the artist making decisions in the studio that is, for me, parallel to Beuy’s work in a political and social setting. By letting go of the studio experience and literally bringing the studio into the gallery is how I wanted to expand. In this show, as in others, I make the work in the gallery. It allows me to make work that is site-specific in a literal sense, because it makes use of the physical qualities of the room. But also that allows me to framethe work in the context of where it is being shown. It breaks from the traditional idea of making something in the studio and transporting it, putting it up, and then bringing it to the next space. So here, it is about experiencing the art as a cumulative totality.
TB: So when one of these objects leaves the gallery we will remember where it was, as part of its nature?
JS: You will. It will have its trace. I am a real believer in the idea that as soon as an artist makes the work the artist reenters as a viewer, with everyone else. Although you may have a privileged position as a viewer, you are never again the maker. So it is the objectthat has its trace in context. Your will doesn’t impose that.
TB: The object carries that.
JS: Yes, if it is a good work, it does it like every cultural object of merit: it retains its history. Bad art is bad because it does not connect. It does not have a cultural history.
TB: Right. There is a reversal here- the (recent) tradition is that the art object is portable.
JS: Yes and that comes totally out of what we assume (which is wrong) to be a long tradition of bourgeois, Impressionist based, dealer-collector assumptions about objects. The assumption is that paintings are made for private viewing, and that museums are essentially “public/private” spaces. They are the expansion of the private connoisseur into the public realm. Why else would the MET re-create people’s homes in the museum? They glorify the connoisseurship of the private. If a sane person did that, they would be institutionalized. If you spent millions of dollars to re-create your house somewhere else, just so you could show the things you bought, you would be put into therapy. The idea of reproducing an aesthetic experience to the level of reproducing furniture and rugs is a scary concept. It does show the influence of art and artists on museum practices, because it shows the importance of context. But it also shows the inverse: the hierarchy of where the power lies- with private connoisseurship and patronage. What I’m trying to do is double back on that, so that the public display creates such a strong context, a fixedcontext, (ephemeral anyway) that the trace cannot be broken or removed from the work. It cannot be truncated off the back of it. In the strongest modernist works, that happens. I mean, you cannot see a Mondrian, whether it’s in Utrecht, or in NY, or in Germany, and not reattach it to the body of work of Mondrian.
TB: I am picturing his studio.
JS: Exactly. That is the exit door of modernism. Mondrian shows this, it is what Rothko was trying to get at it with the Chapel. This is where the paintings refer to context that the artist produces in presentation, as well as internally. We show in galleries because it is assigned, it is the given. It is part of our job to use that language of presentation to affix a context to the objects once they leavethe gallery. We are not making objects the way 19thcentury painters were making objects about life. We are making objects about the whole art experience, which includes the art market, and the gallery, and the fact that these are commodities. If this commodity has a history, which is not only about its price, but about its position in the world-where it came from and how it meant something in relation to other objects, then it has a chance not to die as a commodity.
TB: Not to become outmoded, or out of fashion…
JS: Because fashion has to do with wrenching objects from time- that’s why fashion has seasons, and why it repeats endlessly. That is why you can have the same thing come back after 5 years or 10 or whatever because it doesn’t havea context. That’s part of the confusion about art- some of it has bought into that cycle. That always occurs at the fringes of art because it allows people to recycle value, recycle desires, recycle emotions. They don’t have to accept the responsibilities art objects demand. One of the things the commodity value of art allows for a collector or buyer, is to abandon the responsibility of curatorship and caretaking. Because all you have to do is re-sell it. If you were a collector in the true sense of the word, you are signing yourself up for the responsibility of placing the object, in the sense of where it ends up. Wynn Kamarsky, who I really respect, is a caretaker of his collection, not only a collector. He is as much interested in where the objects end up in context- in museum collections, in university collections, as he is in what happens to them in terms of their value- monetary, or historical. The boom of the art market has been very distracting in this regard. The worst thing about the markets is the way they distract from the important things in life. I had a conversation with somebody who was not able to sleep at night because they lost a million dollars on paper. That is a serious distraction from living because this person’s life had not changed- they still lived in the same apartment, still had the same objects around them,
still had the same daily activities, but they were so agitated for something that is totally abstract.
TB: This gets back to your insistence on understanding context, and having that move with the work. Someone leading a decontextualized life.
JS: Yes, it would be someone walking into my room at Zone: Contemporary of diptych panels with tape stripes and gesso and say, “Ah, this is a parody of Barnett Newman.” The distraction would be the image of Barnett Newman’s paintings and their context and content. If you came with that baggage, you would totally miss the point, and be distracted. You wouldn’t see. If that is the person walking in, they are not going to engage, anyway.
TB: This brings up the question of the esoteric in relation to your work.
JS: I think the beauty of thought is thought itself. One tries to do intelligent things to become intelligent. That’s it!
TB: What about the unavailable?
JS: Everything is available for those who want to engage. If someone can’t engage because they are distracted, because they don’t have the references, because they are too lazy to try to find the references, because they are ill equipped to pay attention to the references, it is not the responsibility of the artist to guide them. It is one of the reasons I stopped teaching. My experience with the best teachers I ever had was that they pointed, and then they shut up. They did not try to lead you towards their thought and methods.
TB: There is a beautiful statement you made as part of that piece in Kielce- “Where politics, institutions and debate fail I offer the intelligence and tolerance of art and culture to Kielce and the world.”
JS: That was at the inauguration, attended by the Ambassador, Minister of Culture, Polish and American, the Israeli Ambassador. I realized everybody was interested in the politic of the moment. But no one was willing to invest in the idea that perhaps the only way to get to the truth, would be to invest in the aesthetic to lead them. The aesthetic might be able to clear the air, get rid of the baggage, of everybody’s point of defense. I believe the aesthetic can do that. I believe that you and I, who have no cultural similarities in terms of background or our experiences with our families, have a common ground that is strongerthan Hicksville LI, or Connecticut, or anywhere. This is the background based on Western cultural experience. I believe that is strongerbetween us than anysocial, political, or religious touchstone. It has formed us, given us our point of view as people! I do not believe in this separation between art and life…I don’t act when I make my art the way I act in my life…that would be so limiting. I wouldn’t be able to do certain normal things. However, I dobelieve that what I do in my art affects the choices I make in my life. That is very important. If anything, we understand that culture is able to modify our life. If we are intelligent, we understand our life shouldn’t moderate and change our culture.
TB: So the culture leads.
TB: This is what you mean by aesthetic. By aesthetic you could mean the contemplation of beauty, but you are talking about something much stronger than that.
JS: Yes, yes. The contemplation of beauty is a subset that allows one to gain access to the ephemeral, beautiful, “broken-off” realm. This is also part of culture, but is not the mainstay of culture- anymore than popular culture is the mainstay of culture. The true understanding of culture is that it is like DNA- it is all linked up. But there is not a hierarchy of one thing over the other. That is why “cultural correctness” or the “100 best books” is misguided. Culture is ephemeral. If we fix its location, it dies. It is the same thing with my work: if I “fix” my work to a point in time, it is dead, it does not work. The only hope I have in my work, is that it attaches itself to a contemporary context.
TB: But it also changes the context.
JS: Yes, it interacts with the context. Artists react, art works interact. There was a confusion- we were often taught that artists interact. You get the “Schnabel-Picasso Syndrome”. Or Jeff Koons. To a lesser degree Warhol, because I think he was subversive to a degree. But the idea is that the artist reacts and the culture changes.
TB: I think of Richard Serra.
JS: I would, except I do not want to defend Richard Serra because definitely he doesn’t need me to defend him. (laughter) I think Serra is a case apart, because he has taken the language of architecture and incorporated it into his work. He was able to get out of the Modernist box by succeeding where contemporary architecture failed. That is to make a realexperience in space with an object. Part of this success is not about art. It is about the failure of architecture in our time.
TB: I think he was able to apply the lessons of cubism to real space.
JS: That’s why Gehry is successful. He is, not his work. He makes a kind of Cubist, 3-D model, and we go, “Ah, I get it.” And it is a building! Serra does it, and we say, “Ah, I am somewhere.” or “I am placed.” That is what architecture has failed to do these days.
TB: Kahn places you.
JS: Yeah Kahn did it. I’m talking about contemporary architecture. I’m talking about someone like Meier. I think Donald Judd’s contribution as a cultural icon is as much for his work as for his writing. When he wrote about contemporary architecture in his time he spoke about the power of the model: that clients were being sold models of buildings. Architects were constrained to build the models, not buildings. This is Judd’s view about why things collapsed. Post-modernism buildings looked so much like the models, the clients were delighted. Serra’s work takes off when this model making, in architecture, succeeds. Serra’s work remains one of the very few experiences where you can confront the space-object relationship as a viewer in space. In architecture I am talking about confronting the building as a two dimensional object, as an exploded model. You do not move through spaces, you look at the surfaces.
I think Serra likes to see himself as the artist hero- the lone romantic artist, against the mass. Ironically, it is the masses that want to agree with him. That is a very confused, pre-modernist stance. A romantic stance. The truemodernist view is Mondrian, Barnett Newman, Rothko to the extreme of being misunderstood. People who are building insular references. If you don’t agree to look at the context of the work, and use those references as the starting point, you can’tget it. With the artist-hero, you have to use the outside vision- the biography, and the idea that the painting is always autobiographical. What I am saying is that art is autobiographical, but about the culture, not about the artist.
For me the very important thing is photography. Even in these paintings there is a very strong thought about photography and its metaphorical nature as an accumulative medium. I remember once someone explaining that painting was accumulative, in the sense that you start with a surface and you add. Sculpture was subtractive because you start with a block and you remove, and photography was simultaneous. You open the shutter and everything is exposed democratically across the surface. There is something about that which is very, very contemporary in our experience of the world: that we experience things democratically across a surface. For me that is a metaphor about art- making that photography has always served. We go through a process of selective filtration in order to get a focus on things, rather than an accumulative experience. Even though my work uses a minimalist vocabulary, it is truly in a reductive style. That is, you start with a lot, and you try to reduce it down to an essence. Not by starting with a blank slate and adding things.
TB: So at Zone, in the front room, where it is hung salon style, is that standing for accumulation- and the big room is where it is reduced?
JS: The front room is trying to present an historical context for my work. It isan accumulation but one is about linear time, because it is work from ’77-‘08 while the other room is about a moment, the present. So yes, accumulation is one aspect, but the work exists there in several ways. I would not have the meaning reduced to just that, just like the work in the large room should not be reduced to the Barnett Newman reference. If I were a painter, the objects in the large room would look redundant. The work would have as part of its meaning all these references: Barnett Newman Robert Ryman, Leon Polk Smith. But knowingall that, and knowing that they come from another context, frees them to become objects in an installation and not reduced to objects…
TB: To be compared with imagistically?
TB: That is esoteric…
JS: Oh it is, but it is the lesson of modernism: what does modernism do but free us, and at the same time tieus to the history of art? Modernism tells us that you do not have to draw the Madonna, but at the same time it tells us, allworks come from the Madonna.
TB: Yes, and that all intention has to be considered. The situation now isn’t composed of a system of belief or thought that precedes us, and that everyone shares, what exists, exists in the present. It is philosophical, not representational.
JS: And not iconographical. Modernism releases objects from their iconographical hierarchy, and allows them to “float” in presentences between referent and object hood. I could not make those pieces 20 years ago. A story: I was making these huge paintings with gestural marks when I was in Rome in the mid ‘80’s and Al Held comes into the studio. This is at the American Academy. He says’ “These paintings have no balls.” I realized he was right- because I wasn’t trying to make paintings. It was illuminating. He says’ “You’re not a painter.” It made me realize that that format of painting, being in the mid-eighties, wasn’t the right context. Now, to make a show that is painting- pure and reduced in that way, is a kind of reactive gesture. My show, very consciously is a gesture to make something that looks different than what is around. To try to do something that in spite of all the problematic aspects we have talked about, still looks, when you come in, like an aesthetic experience that you have to stopin front of in order to engage.
TB: And you leave painting if you are looking hard.
JS: Right away. If I ever become a painter, shoot me! (laughter) I’m not a painter, I’m not a sculptor, although I make objects. My photography doesn’t use a camera, and they look like paintings. I still have this review that Ben Lifson, who was writing for the Village Voice. He said, “This guy is making fake paintings, or fake drawings. What does he think he is doing?” Which was great!
TB: You were happy.
JS: Yeah! Because it meant that I didn’t fall into the category. That is the big risk. If one can keep working, and not fall into a category it means you are doing something very, very interesting, or you are off on the wrong road. That you only find out in the end, anyway. Risk. Either I am bullshitting myself, which would be the worst case scenario, or bullshitting everyone else. Neither of which are rare activities within the art community. I’m willing to acknowledge that this exists among my peers! (laughter). No, it’s true! I had the odd experience of seeing Mark Kostabi do a wall painting, which he actually painted himself- totally against his “rules”, in Italy. This is a guy whose totally operating motif is bullshit. And he knows it. He is the first to admit it. So much so that he was willing to bend his own rules in order to be able to take this opportunity. He painted it himself, which based on his philosophy, he should never do! He is an extreme example in the sense that he is so transparent, but there are gray areas that run the gamut. I just hope that what I do is so exposedthat its only defense isitself. So either it is totally dismissed, or it is accepted. That is the only way art can exist. You can’t have a gray area, like say film criticism. Like, “I like the plot, but the scenery didn’t persuade me.”
TB: This is one of the aspects of our field.
JS: Luckily! It is what makes the visual culture the closest thing to philosophy we have. There is a world-view presented that has to be clearly proposed, or else it’s not worth discussing. You could say there are things about Botero that are “interesting”. But you either have to accept it or reject it as part of the dialogue of Art.
TB: Well I’m very happy you are having the show, and your thought is being presented here.
JS: It is nice to come out of the exile. The last one-person show I had here was in ’85. I have been showing regularly in Europe. The odd part is people coming up and saying, “I haven’t seen work like this in 20+ years.” When in fact I have had major shows like this many places, museum shows etc. It is niceto have it here. I think we forget how local people are…
JS: If it doesn’t happen in your neighborhood, it doesn’t exist. (laughter)
TB: That’s a NYC thing! It is worse because we pride ourselves on our wide vision.
JS: Yeah. Someone was telling me, “I’ve never been to Rome.” How could you not visit major cultural centers, when the effort to get on a plane is nothing?Not because without seeing the Pantheon you can’t understand space, but if you don’t see the Pantheon, your perception of space is very different. We have an obligation to inform ourselves. That goes back to the question of the esoteric. You can either look at it as being elitist that you need to be informed about certain things to deal with what is in the room. If you don’t get it, whose fault is it? Or you can state the inverse, “Is someone responsible enough
to have informed themselves of certain issues before they engage in the activity of looking?” If we were talking about another field, like medicine, would you fault the patient because the doctor wasn’t prepared to do the operation? Here we are blaming the artist for the viewer not knowing.
TB: It is a frustrating aspect of the field. In the Voice this week a review refers to Tom Lawson’s ideas. These are not Lawson’s ideas; they are Adorno’s ideas.
JS: That has to do with our societal laziness as it regards research. America prides itself in being able to understand everything in a 5 second sound bite. If you are going to make a reference, the footnote takes longer than 5 seconds. Therefore, it cannot enter the dialogue. People would rather quote the quote, than quote the source. Unfortunately that is part of how things function. That’s why you get young artists who “reference” works that they don’t even know about. They don’t bother to look at the original source material; they only look at the images. That is why so much of work being done today is about veneer. It is only veneer. It is not even consciously aboutveneer.
TB: It is often defended as being consciously about veneer.
JS: That’s only because the people who write about it, knowmore. They have a greater depth of sources, than the makers do. That goes back to what I tried to talk about a little bit- the difference between popular culture, and culture. People who invest in popular culture are trying to benefit from the culture at large in their analysis of reference that popular culture absorbs. That is a kind of inverted history making.
TB; It is very American. Do you find this in Europe?
JS: You get it as reference to America, and sometimes to music, and popular movies. The difference is that they do not replace one with the other in Europe. Here we have a tendency to put up, say, graffiti art alongside, or sometimes covering over, “serious” art, confusing the two. In Europe they are separate categories that sometimes blended, but are never mistaken, one for the other. It takes a different defense as it can also tend to solidify itself into this kind of stagnation. Haim Steinbeck is an interesting artist- because as a foreigner, in the best sense, he presented the kind of object worship that goes on in American culture in a supreme, clean, direct way. In Europe his work never had the same resonance because objects there have a different meaning. When the culture changed there a bit, when everybody could afford everything, his work diluted a bit. You no longer had to have someone tell you that these are icon/objects worthy of lust. You could now afford them. In Europe it is not about the consumption of objects, it is the availability of objects to different classes that counts. An example: I visited a textile factory in the midst of the Italian/Tuscan countryside. The corridors in this place hadn’t been cleaned in 50 years. I entered a room that looked like some kind of old abandoned factory in Brooklyn. At the desk, was this elderly man, the owner, in an impeccablesuit. He was wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than the building! You knew he was the owner, because of his suit: directly related to class. His position was announced by his tailoring. That’s something in America that would never happen. If you show up well dressed here, you are immediately suspect in America. Either a lawyer, politician, or Mafioso. That is how objects are different here. Since anybody can buy a Dolce+Gabbana bag, real or fake, marketing here has a whole other concept. It has different signifiers.
That is why art, what we do, is one of the few remaining cultural subsets- even though it has been turned into a commodity, can still be modified, and worked with, to turn it against its commodity status by creating a context for it where it flips back and forth. You can try to hold the commodity aspect in your hand, but it flips on you…
TB: It’s subversive.
JS: That is the only saving grace of culture. It is subversive. If it weren’t, we would be part of the Royal Academy. We would be music executives. (laughter). Without any industry (more laughter).
New York Magazine
ART CANDY section
by Rachel Wolff, July 18, 2007
Zwirner & Wirth isn’t the only gallery taking a studied approach to their summer season. The Zone: Chelsea Center for the Arts has assembled an international roster of painters, photographers, and video artists to pay homage to portraiture as a medium for a group show titled “FACE: Scavenging Identity,” up through August 11. Parisian artist Renaud Muraire, who has several works up in the show, deifies modern beauties, dressing our “icons” with the same sort of signifiers once used to suggest divinity and the sublime. Icon #2(left), is part Odilon Redon (with an uncanny resemblance to his 1890 Les Yeux Clos), part early Renaissance, and part [enter upscale designer name here] perfume ad (dirty hair, inexplicable ecstasy). —Rachel Wolff
FASHION UNFILTERED, November 15, 2016
Over the past decade, the Bolia, California-raised artist Shelter Serra has recreated the Birkin in platinum silicone (2009’s “Homemade Hermes Birkin Bag”), transformed the Hummer into a baby blue rubber replica, and made “fake Roleys” available to the masses—selling the art items at just $40 each. This evening, Serra is celebrating the opening of his first solo exhibition, House on Fire at Baahng Gallery in New York City. The series is comprised of oil paintings and sculptures, works that address the direction—and implosion—of the American Dream, drawing in issues of luxury, surveillance, nostalgia, and classic Americana in its examination of what this consumption-driven ideal means in contemporary American society.
We spoke to Serra by phone—he was with his wife in Tokyo—on the night of the presidential election as returns were pouring in, and talked about how he came to these subjects, why the image of the “House on Fire” is so specifically American, and what we can do in the face of such anger. The timing of the discussion and exhibition opening couldn’t have been more harrowing, or relevant.
Ashley W. Simpson: I’m glad we’re talking now. I’m trying not to have an anxiety attack watching the results.
Shelter Serra: I was getting nervous and anxious.
AWS: I stopped looking. Anyway, I want to talk to you about this exhibition.
SS: Well, I guess it’s even more apropos now. I had been working on this group of work for eight or nine months, and one of the key paintings is called “House on Fire.” My idea behind it was the metaphor for the American consumeristic dream that either backfires or resets itself. The image came from the post-mortgage meltdown of 2007. Someone had actually burned down their house and committed suicide [inside it]; it was a foreclosure instance where it was like, he didn’t want the bank to have the house. It was in Georgia. And I just thought, Wow, that’s such an American “fuck you” to the system. [It also brought about] the idea of a country almost catching on fire. I hope Hillary wins, but I’m interested in how everyone has this perspective of the American Dream and what it has to do with commodification and dreams, and that’s different for every culture.
The oil paintings came out of working with sculpture and really wanting to go back to a more traditional medium that challenged my own personal technical abilities. Images are read, but the technical aspect should have a background of history. I try to make [the images] my own, but I do take from popular culture, different notions of American perspective— which is different from [that of] somebody from Tokyo or Germany or Spain. It has to do with the context. I always think that the context is an important factor in how people read things or how people interpret their experiences.
AWS: Aside from the burning house, how did you decide what images to work with?
SS: I think the notion of narrative was unavoidable. People try to make relationships between things they see to make sense of them. With something foreign, sometimes it’s more difficult for people to sequence things. I thought about creating a subtle timeline that maybe has to do with surveillance and technology and this idea of things being documented and how documentation is really a freezing of time. Not like in photography or stills from a movie, but in a way that captures the essence of a moment. There are some kids that are walking in a painting of after-school, and it’s that moment of time when you’re an adolescent and you have that notion of freedom between school and going home, and later in life, you look back and think, Wow, that was so fun. That notion of nostalgia. So the images were kind of all—I don’t want to use the word pulled—but they were pulled together to create this pseudo-narrative like in a picture book. So the idea was to put together images that were closely related, but fed into this idea of technology and surveillance and capturing what would be almost a moment in time.
AWS: How do you see this concept of the American dream and commodification right now? You’re looking at different versions of what that American Dream can be.
SS: The acquisition or consumption of images is different from acquiring an iPhone or a new house or car, but all of those things become kind of like building blocks in creating a person’s identity, and more and more, our society becomes peppered with these homogenous relations. Like, everybody feels like they have to have the latest phone. Everybody feels like their clothes get old and they have to renew them—but you know, good clothes last a long time—so the whole notion of style and fashion and trends kind of progresses the notion of alienation and inclusion.
I guess the idea of the images in the painting that are part of the show is that there seems to be a kind of a juxtaposition of different times going on, where now, even the seasons are all changing. The world is a changing place and people don’t want things to change. That notion of change is really exciting and adventurous. But the reality is that people revert back to a certain type of comfort. And unfortunately, that might be what’s happening with this election. In my mind, the idea of challenging the status quo is what progresses thought, progresses art, it progresses everything from architecture to engineering to music. You need people to break the rules, and the idea of breaking the rules is super attractive, but in reality, people don’t really want to take that jump off the high dive. They would rather sit there and watch somebody else do it.
AWS: Or they would rather stay within their comfort zone even if that space is miserable.
SS: That is my notion of the American Dream. It is that comfort zone. And it’s different for everybody. If you have the latest handbag or have a gun or you have the latest watch—that almost creates this comfort zone that people have subscribed to almost without thinking.
AWS: And how do you relate this back to the work you’ve done in the past? Obviously, there are some similar issues of commodification and luxury.
SS: I relate it to how things constantly have to renew themselves, but there are certain things that always float to the top, whether it be a Birkin bag or a Rolex or maybe even a Hummer truck. At a certain point, it was maybe being used for the American military and it was also the most popular car on the street that was like a gas guzzler. So, there are certain things that become identifiable as parts of people’s persona. Or extensions of their personality. But they’re just objects. They’re replaceable. And that’s where this notion of consumerism in my mind is this constant driving force of American culture, and people get programmed into thinking that they need these things when in reality, less is more.
AWS: What do you hope people take away as they engage with this exhibition?
SS: As an artist, my goal is to change the way people think. The smallest notion of putting something on the street and seeing something in a different light, or looking twice at something—that idea of slowing things down and looking at things for what they are and maybe not for what they are in a greater whole. And what that has to do with trends and going back to that word commodification is that everybody does have individuality. That notion of individuality is something I think everyone needs to cherish. It’s almost like going with your intuition. Don’t second guess yourself. Go with what you think is right and don’t let people change your goals. Because everyone is different and that’s what makes the world go round. And I guess as an artist, I’m against the notion of homogeny and things all kind of being the same. The idea of imagination is something that everybody needs to embrace. As things become easily identifiable and consumable, people loose the sense of imagination. I think that’s something people need to hold on to because you can ask questions of your environment instead of accepting the status quo.
AWS: What’s next for you?
SS: Continuing paintings that I think address skewed notions of Americana, but also working on installation pieces and bigger works that fill an environment. Something like a windmill being knocked down and plated gold. Half-scale. I made an Abrams tank for a collector in the Philippines that went out in front of his house. Instead of a statuary lion or a birdbath, he had a big tank. So, [I want to extend] that into a greater realm of sculpture or installation with the paintings. And there’s a show coming up in Marfa, Texas, that will kind of be fences and lawns and how fences in lawns are kind of seen as extensions of the home. So, I’m going to be working in that kind of extension of the domestic realm. I think it’s important for me right now to investigate that.
AWS: We’re all kind of thinking about fences right now…
SS: Well, Saudi Arabia just put up a 600-mile long fence to keep ISIS out, which I think is totally bizarre.
AWS: That’s completely bizarre.
It’s a pretty long fence. They’re doing it all over the world. That kind of incorporates some of the paintings I’m doing that have surveillance perspectives. The idea of technology and surveillance and double fences. The fence is never enough. The fence has to be observed. It’s like this snowball effect that we’ve created. That duality of the fence is something that I’m interested in exploring in the future.
House on Fire is on view at Baahng Gallery, located at 790 Madison Ave, New York, NY, through December 27th.
by Shana Beth Mason, November 3, 2016
Andy Warhol once said, “I don’t want it to be essentially the same – I want it to be exactly the same. Because the more you look at the same exact thing, the more the meaning goes away, and the better and emptier you feel.” This is a prophetic kind of epithet for the so-called “American Dream”, one that New York-based artist Shelter Serra takes rather seriously. He received his BA in Studio Art from the University of California (Santa Cruz) and an MFA in Painting & Printmaking from the Rhode Island School of Art & Design (RISD), but has developed his artistic practice in a very subdued, renegade fashion. He is a free agent, able to move about seamlessly though variant circles of contemporary art, both high and low. He seems to revel in movement, even though the things he references in his work are highly static and petrified. After what seems like forever, I caught up with Serra before the opening of his solo show House on Fire at Baahng Gallery (New York) on the 27th.
Shelter! How long has it been since we’ve last seen each other? Am I right in saying we met for the first time in 2010 at Primary Projects in Miami?
Hi Shana, It’s has been over a year. Too long! Last I saw you was here in NYC. You are right we did meet officially at Primary. I was doing the Fountainhead residency with the Mikesells, so I was in Miami a few weeks before Art Basel. That was a good year. Andrew Schoultz, Marc Bilj and RETNA were there too.
When I first met you, your work was centered on “shells” or “lost casts” of both luxury and threatening objects like Hummers, Birkin bags, nooses, and/or Rolex watches. Was this the very first stage of your practice, or was there other phases before this?
The first group of work that got shown publicly was the cast pieces. I have always drawn and painted. Before the objects, I was doing installations with grand opening flags and making enlarged Black Amex Cards (2007). To a degree, I have always been interested in the things that surround us daily.
With those works, I sensed that you had captured both the life and death of the object. By “emptying” the object of any sort of monetary value, you sort of distilled each object down to its sign/symbolic presence.
That’s an interesting way of looking at them, I like that. I was thinking about how the casting process stops time and freezes things. Whether it is a trucker’s hat, or a handbag, the moment something loses its immediate referent we see it differently, in a new light so to speak. Some people refer to those works as merely “copies”, or appropriation art, which is a broad way of interpreting the re-presentation of the object. I am more interested in the vessel and its relationship to the tropism of our society. By stripping away the external layers, I hope more is revealed.
Some recent work I’ve seen of yours are super-traditional paintings on canvas. When did these come about? Are they all a part of a congruous series?
I have been working on a specific group of work for the last three to four years. At RISD I studied painting and printmaking, so some things are hard to avoid. The oil paintings are in a sense a way to challenge myself to deal with the unavoidable aspects of image making, i.e. History, implications of the narrative, and memory. I was seeing so much zombie abstraction out there it made me wonder if the commodification of abstract art was fuelling the art bubble. Painting in a more traditional way helped me avoid being trendy. The new paintings are congruent to new sculptures and complement each other in ways that I did not expect. I have a show of the new works opening this month at Baahng Gallery in New York. There will be both sculpture and paintings.
One thing I’ve always liked about you is that you don’t affix ironclad “meanings” or “rumination” from your work. But do you have a baseline interest that has continually existed throughout your career as an artist?
Commodification and the paradox of the American Dream.
SHELTER SERRA “HOUSE ON FIRE” @ BAAHNG GALLERY
Oct 27, 2016 – Dec 27, 2016
Baahng Gallery, New York
New York City’s Baahng Gallery is currently presenting a timely survey of the corrosion of the American Dream, through a series of new paintings, objects and sculptures by Bay Area born / New York based artist Shelter Serra. Following what is widely being viewed as a disaster of democracy and a failure of multiple national faculties, there is no doubt that we as a society are at a crossroads, no longer able to exist on the platform of 20th century nostalgia. That model seems utterly dead and buried. How can we examine our past aspirations, achievements, objectifications and failures to prioritize and navigate what may be dark waters ahead?