Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Artists’ Essays
Marga Bijvoet
Content:
Agnes Denes, Art for the Third Millennium – Creating a New World
View, lecture
Revised version of an article published for Leonardo: Agnes Denes,
“Environmental Artwork, Visual Philosophy and Global Perspective,”
Leonardo, Vol. 26, No. 5, 1993, pp. 387-395
Introduction
According to the inherent capacities of the internet, we may add new articles or
hitherto unknown articles to enhance understanding of the underlying
developments and changes. I have therefore chosen for an open ending.
During the sixties there was a major upsurge in writings and statements by
American artists. Many set out to describe the ideas behind their own works
out of discontent with current art historical and art critical comments. A
smaller group went beyond that and tried to place their work in a larger
theoretical context, whereas a few artists sought a completely different
approach to art altogether.
In Art as Inquiry I have tried to describe and interpret the contextual
developments that took place from the sixties onward in two major art
directions: video - media art, and environmental - public art. The discontent
with the marginalization of the arts -- at least this is what artists thought had
happened -- was one of the reasons that led to an expansion of its formal
boundaries. The interdisciplinary ventures which followed in its wake led to
new concepts of art placing it in a more public ‘real world’ context. For,
collaborative projects with non-art disciplines were seen as one objective to
achieve a new more social function for the arts.
As described in the book, two main types of art where this direction found an
outlet were video art and environmental art; the first developing into projects
for television or community related ones, or computer-based works, the latter
growing into the art in public places which was defined as site-related and
site-dependent sculptural work. Both directions were from their onset in the
late sixties very much inspired by developments in science and technology.
Among the sciences that exerted an exponential influence in general were the
Systems Theory, originally developed by Ludwig von Bertalanffy and
Norbert Wiener’s Cybernetics.
By the early seventies their concepts had not only spread to various
disciplines within the scientific community, their infiltration was furthered
by the numerous practical technical appliances. As far as Cybernetics was
concerned, it entailed such discoveries as positive and negative feedback in
video technology, as well as the developments in computer and
communication sciences. Their linguistic terminology had become common
knowledge through popular publications. Can it be a surprise that a visual
arts community seeking new modes of expression felt attracted by these
sciences that represented the new scientific developments, in particular as
they promised interdisciplinary options to artists working in technologically
experimental fields. Among the much cited publications are Ervin Laszlo,
Introduction to Systems Philosophy, 1972, and Norbert Wiener, Cybernetics.
Or: Control and Communication in the Animal and the Machine (1948) and
his The Human Use of Human Beings (1950)
We find their concepts in the writings of Gyorgy Kepes, Nam June Paik
and Paul Ryan. In particular the books of Kepes deserve re-reading. Kepes
was well informed about current scientific theories. Being in touch with the
foremost scientists of his time, he was able to exchange thoughts and ideas
about related developments in both the arts and sciences, and presented them
in exhibitions The New Landscape in Art and Science (1956), Explorations
(1970), and publications (such as his VISION and VALUE Series)
The new media were theoretically sited and explained by the much quoted
(although often misunderstood) Marshall McLuhan. In particular Marshall
McLuhan’s Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964) gained a
broad reputation. To these theoretical considerations came practical
resources, such as the famous Bell Telephone Laboratories, where Billy
Kluver facilitated access and was able to turn the (at first little) interest of
engineers and technicians into a number of creative collaborations with
artists.
Collaborations with engineers (camera, sound, editing etc.) at public
television stations like WGBH, Boston or WNET, New York were just as
important practical resources. Nam June Paik, among many others, made
some productions for them. Paik’s theoretical expositions about new media
and their future at large were also inspired by the writings of Wiener and
McLuhan.
There also was another aspect involved: the exchange of ideas with, and
investigative collaboration with engineers and scientists, occasionally
leading to new discoveries and unusual applications of a technology, not
intended before.
Some artists now perceive their work as inquiry, or investigation, if not as
“scientific” or “science”. Woody Vasulka and Steina Vasulka have
described some their early works as such. Agnes Denes already called her
work “investigations” during the sixties.
In addition, this kind of collaboration changed the role of the artist from
within. Collaboration means sharing of ideas, and the artist is no longer the
sole inventor of his work. Thus, occasionally the final object, or product, was
no longer an authentic art object, even.
The location to put these ideas into practice was the public environment at
large. After having gone into the desert to make their marks, a number of
land and earth artists returned to the urban and industrial environment at
large. Although some would see the proposals of Robert Smithson (1971/2)
(reclamation of deserted surface mines) as the beginning of this
development, or even earlier the mound projects of Herbert Bayer (1955) at
Aspen, Colorado, basically the “movement” can be said to have been given
major impetus with Earthworks: Land Reclamation as Sculpture in Seattle,
Washington, 1979. The essay of Robert Morris presents us a “keynote” on
the state of affairs at the time.
In the mean time the scientific and technological interests of those artists
seemed to shift somewhat. As far as technology was concerned, new
computer and communication media could now be adapted or introduced
almost immediately. As far as science was concerned, – never before so
specialized – it was something else. Yet, among a small group of scientists,
mainly physicists, there was a keen interest in eastern philosophies, where
they thought to have found ideas that showed remarkable congruencies with
their own discoveries, especially in quantum mechanics, chaos theory, fractal
geometry, etc. It became known as the New Physics. One notion that filtered
into popular thinking was that of the holographic paradigm, to the extent that
it began to lead a life of its own in terms of meaning, which did not have
much in common any more with the scientific concept. It was these notions
that also interested artists (and with them the public at large). Publications of,
for instance, Fritjof Capra’s Tao of Physics, David Bohm’s Wholeness and
the Implicate Order, or James Lovelock’s Gaia: A New Look at Life on
Earth - to mention just a few! - were widely read among artists. (Quite a
few artists from that time practice some kind of meditation, even are
practicing Buddhists.) And recent studies of the brain which leave the
concept of its functioning as a computer and now perceive it as a neural
network, i.e. a living organism, have in particular interested Bill Viola. The
media works and writings of Viola are an example involving all these aspects
woven into a multi-layered complex of meaning.
The selection of essays and quotations that I have chosen to republish in this
internet publication intend to present the reader a view over the important
contextual and operational change which took place in the arts of media and
environment during the second half of the twentieth century, a change which
almost could be called a change in paradigm; from the first video art toward
the new media art forms, and from the old monumental public art toward the
new kind of site-specific art in public places. As far as content and meaning
is concerned, they hopefully also reveal some of the patterns and paths by
which artists follow related interests in contemporary scientific discoveries
and philosophical ideas of these decades.
It is quite a small selection, indeed. However, I believe they give the reader
an idea about the technological and scientific interests that existed among
these artists, and how they sought to incorporate certain ideas into their art.
Hereby my sincere thanks to those who gave their permission to republish
their articles, thus making this publication possible.
1
Marga J. Bijvoet
Mel Chins Revival Field, for example, is based on a collaborative venture with
an agronomist from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, and sets out to
examine to what extent different plants are able to absorb toxic substances.
Similarly, Georg Dietzler’s project Qyster Mushroom eats Toxic Residues -
Selfcomposting Laboratory Unit for the Detoxification of Earth containing
PCB involves the work of scientists whose data from soil analysis are part of
the art. Bettina Pousttchi’s Pulse uses the knowledge of micrography employed
in medical laboratories. Sculptress Eve Andrée Laramée collaborates with bio-
geographer Duane Griffin. Alan Sonfist, and Helen Mayer Harrison and
Newton Harrison started to work with scientists of various disciplines way
back in the seventies. Research has become integral to their work; it is an
essential aspect in understanding the content and purpose of their projects,
which is what they have grown to become.
Although the natural sciences and the humanities developed in – one could
perhaps say - opposite directions since the 16th century, the visual arts never
quite gave up attempting to bridge the gap. For, regardless of the increasing
specialisation and individualization since the Renaissance, artists, scientists and
technicians maintained the exchange of ideas and technical inventions and
processes in many fields. Where as relationships between architecture,
literature, music and the humanities were often direct, and of a personal kind,
contacts between the fine arts and natural sciences became mostly indirect,
mediated by methods and techniques. It was going to take time, however, until
the social character of these technically and scientifically mediated relations
would find its long awaited outlet again.
During the first half of the 20th century, one could still describe the
relationships between art and science as follows: artists took up the current
scientific theories and related technologies, by using newly introduced
industrial materials like steel, glass, plastics, synthetic colours, and the
accompanying techniques of construction that came with them into art.
Institutions like the Bauhaus supplied a platform for exchange between art and
industry. As a matter of fact, it was the Bauhaus that became itself a major
laboratory for industrial design and new architectural forms, at first in
Germany and later on in United States with the general purpose to bring art and
life closer together again, i.e. by making the aesthetically beautiful object
available to a larger public.
Artists like Piet Mondrian, Theo van Doesburg or Kazimir Malevich are known
to have been familiar with the discoveries of Max Planck in the field of
elementary physics, and Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity. Yet, their
interest and interpretation moved at once on a metaphysical level. The artists
philosophized and speculated about space and time, about non-Euclidean
geometry, and the Fourth Dimension in one breath. (Linda Dalrymple
Henderson, The Fourth Dimension and Non-Euclidean Geometry in Modern
Art, Princeton 1983)
The Realist Manifesto of Naum Gabo and Antoine Pevsner (1920) shows that
their attempts at opening up the three-dimensional sculptural form and the
introduction of mechanical movement into their work, that certain essays by
Mondrian and van Doesburg in De Stijl (1919/20) were inspired by the
physical and mathematical theories of a ‘space-time-continuum’ and
discussions on ‘n-dimensionality´.
The scientific paradigm that was formed in the first decades of the nineteenth
century announced itself – partially intuitively – as abstraction in painting,
making the illusionist depiction of nature of less and less interest for the art
avant-garde. This enormous change occurred only slightly later than the
introduction of mathematics in the sciences, upon which it is now completely
based. When the sciences continued to research a non-visible subatomic reality
in the structure of matter in a rising science quantum theory, art strived to find
its invisible reality behind nature as metaphysical abstraction.
During the sixties the relationship art, science and technology began to change
once again. Also now, the view of nature as interpreted by researchers played
an important part. Interestingly, it was systems theory and cybernetics with
their new terminology that took a leading role. Their discovery was timely
indeed, as the new technologies of computer and communication were
introduced around the same time and spread so rapidly that we cannot imagine
living without them any longer. (Norbert Wiener, Cybernetics, New York
1948; and The Human Use of Human Beings, Boston, MA 1950)
Terminology like positive or negative feedback, randomness (like random
access), open and closed systems, infiniteness, etc., having a very specific
meaning in these respective sciences, had filtered into our daily language by
the early seventies; and self-evidently into the language of art. Here they
obtained their own meaning, like in other non-scientific disciplines. Robert
Smithson, who severely criticized contemporary art writing for the use of
biological references, adopted words like indefiniteness, or randomness to
describe new movements in articles like Quasi-Infinities and the Waning of
Space, 1966; A Sedimentation of the Mind: Earth Projects, 1968)
Jack Burnham perceived the developments in the visual arts as moving from
“objet d’art to système d’art”, for instance. (Jack Burnham, Systems Esthetics,
Artforum 1968)
Hans Haacke was among the first group of artists who projected biological
systems into their works. He even described his projects in terms of biological
systems. Haacke, who is known today mainly for his social criticism and
economic analysis of the art system, experimented with biological processes in
the early sixties, both inside and outside, using natural and artificial conditions.
He grew grass and rye under museum lamps to see it wilt at the closing of the
exhibition, he studied the freezing and melting of water drops on a rope.
Haacke released tortoises, or transplanted moss to watch the growing processes
under various conditions. The experimental character of this work has been
compared to scientific research. For Haacke, however, there was never a doubt:
his motives were to make art, therefore his work was to been seen as art.
(Edward F. Fry, Hans Haacke: Werkmonographie, Cologne 1972)
The most important distinction that was offered by the Art and Technology
Movement was its goal to search for collaborative opportunities between artist,
technologists / engineers and scientists. The willingness to work collaborative
instead of alone in the studio, to share and exchange ideas that would filter into
the final project is what distinguishes the future media artist from his/her
colleagues. In a sense, systems theory, promoting interdisciplinary
collaboration among different scientific disciplines and the interdisciplinary
oriented cybernetic technology, come together in the engineer or scientist
working together with the artist. May be there was no choice. An artist who
wanted to have access to the new expensive technological products – i.e. obtain
the required knowledge – had to find a way to raise interests with the ‘other
side’, so to speak. Billy Kluver, engineer at the famous Bell Laboratories, and
Robert Rauschenberg pioneered in founding “Experiments in Art and
Technology” (E.A.T, New York 1966) an organization that set out to promote
and facilitate collaborative projects between the disciplines.
With a similar intention Gyorgy Kepes founded the Center for Advanced
Visual Studies (C.A.V.S.) at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology
(Cambridge, MA, 1967). In Europe there were similar interdisciplinary
initiatives, like the Groupe de Recherche d'Art Visuel (G.R.A.V.) and Zero.
Whereas the programme of E.A.T. aimed at practical cooperation between
artists and engineers, was Kepes guided by more idealist motives. Kepes had in
mind not only a mutual practical support between artist and scientist, but rather
the exchange of ideas and mutual inspiration.
In addition, he was convinced that artists had to take more responsibility in
society, both in urban and natural environments. In 1970, this concept of a
civic art stood in sharp contrast to the traditional production of monumental art
works. There was yet another point which would be of utmost consequences
for future development of art in nature: although agreeing in principle with the
technical and scientific progress, Kepes was well aware of the possible dangers
for the environment. Today’s vantage point places him in the vicinity of the
environmental and ecological movements, which at least the United States
have found themselves in a rather conflicting position with new technologies,
however never rejected them altogether. (Gyorgy Kepes, “Toward Civic Art,”
Leonardo, 1971)
For Kepes, the main task of a civic art involved the restoration of a natural
harmony, as he called it, between man and nature. However, one has to say that
he was not quite clear how this harmony should be envisaged. Most works of
that resulted from the various projects at the C.A.V.S. under Kepes’s
directorship belonged to the genres of kinetic, computer, concept or video art.
Only a smaller number of the Fellows were consciously guided by ecological
and socio-critical motives, like Alan Sonfist.
That the Art and Technology Movement soon lost its attraction was not only
due to the rise of the anti-nuclear protests, the Vietnam War and its use of
biological and chemical weapons, and the emerging ecological movement. For
various reasons the collaboration between artists and scientists or technologists
very often ended with the project that brought them together. In the end most
artists returned to the studio. Nevertheless the Movement can be seen as a
caesura in that it made artists become aware of interdisciplinary opportunities
to connect with and make use of when needed or intended.
While Bell Telephone Laboratories, the IBM Watson Research Center, or Jet
Propulsion Laboratory have allowed artists onto their terrain for their bringing
unexpected insights into problem solving areas early on, interestingly it seems
to have become fairly normal by now for American companies to create artist-
in-residencies in their research and development departments. Also universities
have set up programmes for artists where they can use research facilities and
work with other disciplines, such as the Media Laboratory at M.I.T. (It served
as an example for the Zentrum für Kunst und Medientechnologie in Karlsruhe,
Germany.)
As regards artists who turned to ‘nature’ at the end of the sixties, or worked
with natural phenomena, such as growth, life-cycles, annual cosmic
phenomena (solstice, equinox), initially we do not find much research or
collaboration with fields outside the arts. Nature and landscape did become
became the subject of art projects, but the predominant issue revolved around
art itself; how to find a more social role for art, how to lessen the
marginalization of the artist within society.
Michael Heizer, Robert Smithson and Walter de Maria went to places far away
from ‘civilisation’ to create the excavations and markings in the desert
landscape that became known world-wide as earthworks. The Europeans
Richard Long and Hamish Fulton generally stayed closer to home and made
long walks during which they restricted their activities to a rearrangement of
stones, or sticks, of which subsequent photographs remained as the only
evidence. Fulton even just photographed what crossed his path. In Europe,
there was very little digging into the earth, and the proportions of the works
remained very small compared to those of the American colleagues.
The search for new bonding with nature, almost lost, found its expression in
the action and performance art of these years. Its motives were taken from an
interpretation of the planet as “Goddess” or images of nursing mother earth,
ancient. The revival of and new identification with traditional cults and ancient
fertility rituals is related to this research into the ‘nature’ of woman. The rising
feminism which wanted a redefinition of the role of woman in society came
into play as well. The majority of these works is anthropological in character
and dealt with the exploration of old myths and rituals. References to
“primitive” and archaic civilizations abound, such as the old American-Indian
tribal cultures or the Australian aborigines, who regard the earth as a living
organism and animals as beings that should to be treated like us. The earth as
part of an organismic concept of the universe, was revived within this concept
of art, to gain significance in society as well. For, in the late seventies a
“holistic” model was developed in the sciences, which was popularized quite
quickly, as we will see below.
Ana Mendieta has for instance pointed to the connection between the
“violated”, “raped” earth or nature and woman in a number of ritualistic
performance works. This also applies to Joseph Beuys whose natural
philosophy sought to re-harmonize mankind with nature. It represented the
focal point for his “erweiterter Kunstbegriff” / “extended view of art”, and
“soziale Plastik” / “social Plastic”.
In science the concept of Gaia was developed by James Lovelock, which stood
in opposition to the empirical-determinist model, i.e. the generally accepted
Cartesian mechanist universe. Lovelock’s concept saw the universe as “self-
organized”, and called it “Gaia Hypothesis”. Another theory (of
morphogenetic fields) in this direction was developed by Rupert Sheldrake.
However marginal these models might seem within the scientific industrial
establishment, they present a world view which has lived a shadow existence
since the Renaissance, in trying to replace the view of nature as inert or
inanimate with that of a living earth. A “qualitative” science protests against a
science based on quantity and directed at the “mechanization of the world”,
which philosophy is the control of nature in order to justify, said simply,
industrial exploitation and ecological devastation.
Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison were among first artists who gave
to their work with natural processes the character of inquiry, and began to
collaborate with specialists in the field for that purpose. The early exploration
of self-generative life cycles, such as those on the Sri-Lankan crab together
with the Scripps Institute in La Jolla, has meanwhile extended into expansive
and interdisciplinary landscape restoration proposals. They involve the
collaboration with biologists, ecologists, climatologists, city planners,
community politicians, and so forth. Beyond the mere collection of data, their
inquiries comprise the exchange of ideas and discussions. It even constitutes a
major part of the work, and the artists call it “conversational drift”. These ideas
are subsequently reflected in drawings and drafts, upon which apart from the
functional and scientific aspects always comes an overlay of metaphoric and
symbolic meaning in the form of a narrative.
In Europe, the Harrisons have participated in presenting concepts for the brown
coal fallows left by surface mining in the Leipzig / Bitterfeld region. The four
types of endangered meadows on the roof of the Kunsthalle in Bonn were in a
second phase, transplanted to the Rhine meadowland or ‘Auenlandschaft’.
Central to their multifaceted concerns is the wish to make a contribution to the
existence of this planet Earth.
Alan Sonfist’s Time Landscapes are based on climate and biological
examinations of earlier types of vegetation of a region. Its recovery, taking into
account the changes in climate, geology of biology, as well as current cultural
and social conditions, is the aim of these projects. Nancy Holt, who started her
artistic career as a photographer, and has made one major desert earthwork,
decided to work in the field of public art solely, and has by now designed
complete parks, mostly in connection with city rehabilitation projects working
together with landscape architects, environmental planners, astronomers
(always) and other specialists necessary. The ecological component of Sky
Mound - a web of mounds, paths and steel posts aligned to the sunrise and
sunset of the equinox in spring and autumn at the site - is the construction of a
methane gas system which supplies the community with energy gained from
the organic waste dump upon Sky Mound is located.
These developments would not have been possible without the infrastructure of
municipal and state-run art commissions and the system of public and private
support in the United States. Until recently, large interdisciplinary projects
have been very difficult for artist to get implemented in Germany. For
Documenta 7 at Kassel (1982), Joseph Beuys had to establish the financial
concept and organization to find sponsors for the planting of his 7,000 Oaks all
by himself. In 1982, the existence of an art commission such as the one in
Hamburg was still an exception. Even so, Beuys’ Gesamtkunstwerk Freie und
Hansestadt Hamburg (1983/84) for which he intended the planting of trees and
shrubs on the Altenwerder Spülfelder to detoxify the soils, was never realised
because of political intervention.
The new art in public places unlike the traditional infamous art-at-buildings
programmes, is truly an art of public spaces. It does not suffice to situate a
sculpture in a park or on museum grounds any longer. The object standing by
itself as monument or decorate the space is not wanted any more. The new art
in public places is defined by its relationship to the site. It takes into
consideration multiple aspects of this site. As a consequence, inquiries into the
conditions of the future location of a work may involve looking into the social
and urban components, cultural aspects, ecological and biological
requirements, existing urban planning, discussions with the community and
politicians, budgeting, and so on have become a logical part of the planning
beforehand, before any design and production can be thought of.
Interdisciplinary collaboration with (landscape-) architects, city planners,
industrial-designers is a matter of fact.
Today, most cultivation and reclamation projects have a ‘green’ ecological
component. Artists are expected to be informed about the state of scientific
knowledge regarding biodiversity or ecology, and if not, are expected to seek
the cooperation of a specialist in the field. Agnes Denes’ North Waterfront
Park (Berkeley, California) and Patricia Johanson’s Endangered Garden (San
Francisco, California) are large interdisciplinary projects for which the re-
naturalization of whole areas with ecosystems of a multifarious plant and
animal world are planned. Reiko Goto’s and Tim Collins’ projects presume a
through investigation of the urban ecosystem together with environmentalists
and town planners.
Gyorgy Kepes
Jack Burnham
June 1970
Part I
How many Americans, once horrified by thermonuclear war, are now thinking
the unthinkable in ecological terms with a certain spiteful glee of relief at the
prospect of a white hell for all?
Nobody with any wisdom is looking for a straight-out fight. We have come to
understand that in fighting you too easily become what you behold. Yet there
is no way on this planet to get out of the way. Strategy and tactics need be
developed so the establishment in its entropy does not use up our budgets of
flexibility. The efforts to enlist the young in the traditional political parties by
‘72 will be gross. Relative to the establishment and its cultural automatons, we
need to move from pure Wiener wise Augustinian cybernetics into the realm of
war game theory and practice in the information environment.
The most elegant piece of earth technology remains the human biocomputer;
the most important data banks are in our brain cells. Inherent in cybernetic
guerrilla warfare is the absolute necessity of having the people participate as
fully as possible. This can be done in an information environment by insisting
on ways of feeding back for human enhancement rather than feeding off people
for the sake of concentration of power through capital, pseudo-mythologies, or
withheld information. The information economy that begins in a guerrilla
mode accepts, cultivates, and depends on living, thinking flesh for its success.
People are not information coolies rickshawing around the perceptions of the
privileged, the well-paid, or the past. People can and do process information
according to the uniqueness of their perceptual systems. Uniqueness is
premium in a noospheric culture that thrives on high variety. Information is
here understood as a difference that makes a difference. The difficulties of a
negentropic or information culture are in the transformations: how do we
manage transformation of differences without exploitation, jam, or corruption
that sucks power from people?
The bulk of the work done on cybernetics, from Wiener’s guided missiles
through the work at IBM and Bell Labs along with the various academic spin-
offs, has been big-budget, establishment-supported, and conditioned by the
relation of those intellectuals to the powers that be distinctly non-cybernetic
and unresponsive to people. The concept of entropy itself may be so
conditioned. Witness the parallel between Wiener’s theoretical statements
about enclaves and the enclave theory of withdrawal from Vietnam. One of the
grossest results of this situation is the preoccupation of the phone company and
others with making “foolproof terminals” since many potential users are
assumed to be fools who can only give the most dumb-dumb responses. So
fools are created.
The Japanese, the people we dropped the A-bomb on in 1945, introduced the
portable video system to this country in 1967, at a price low enough so that
independent and semi-independent users could get their hands on it and begin
to experiment. This experimentation, this experience, carries within it the logic
of cybernetic guerrilla warfare.
Warfare… because having total control over the processing of video puts you
in direct conflict with that system of perceptual imperialism called broadcast
television that puts a terminal in your home and thereby controls your access to
information. This situation of conflict also exists as a matter of fact between
people using portable video for feedback and in situations such as schools that
operate through withholding and controlling the flow of information.
Guerrilla warfare… because the portable video tool only enables you to fight
on a small scale in an irregular way at this time. Running to the networks with
portable video material seems rear-view mirror at best, reactionary at worst.
What is critical is to develop an infrastructure to cable in situations where
feedback and relevant access routes can be set up as part of the process.
Yet this is not China in the 1930’s. Though there is much to learn from Mao
and traditional guerrilla warfare, this is not the same. Critically, for instance,
in an economy that operates on the transformation of differences, a hundred
flowers must bloom from the beginning. In order to “win” in cybernetic
guerrilla warfare, differences must be cherished, not temporarily suppressed for
the sake of “victory.” A la McLuhan, war is education. Conflict defines
differences. We need to know what not to be enough to internally calculate our
own process of becoming earth-alive noosphere. The more we are able to
internally process differences among us, the more we will be able to process
“spoils” of conflict with the entropic establishment—i.e., understanding the
significant differences between us and them in such a way as to avoid
processing what is dangerous and death-producing. Learn what you can from
the Egyptians; the exodus is cybernetic.
The traditional concern is for good generals. What’s desirable for us is ad hoc
heterarchies of power which have their logistics down. Cybernetics
understands that power is distributed throughout the system. Relevant
pathways shift and change with the conditions. The navy has developed war
plans where the command in a fleet moves from ship to ship every fifteen
minutes. It is near impossible to knock out the command vessel.
•Running away when it’s too heavy. Leave the enemy’s strong
places and seek the weak. Go where you can make a difference.
The business of deception in guerilla warfare is a turn off for most people in
this relatively open culture. This is simply an area that need be better
understood, if we are to be successful. People feel that concealing is unethical
publicity. Yet overexposure means underdevelopment. Many projects die of
too much publicity. There is a sense in which we are information junkies
feeding off each others unlived hope. The media repeatedly stuns the growth of
an alternate culture in this country through saturation coverage. It is hard for an
American to just keep his mouth shut and get something cooking. You are what
you reveal. The star system renders impotent by overexposure and keeps others
impotent through no exposure. Seeming different is more important than
making a difference. Deception in guerilla tactics is an active way of avoiding
control by an alien, alienating intelligence. When a policeman takes your name,
he takes over. I know a guy who is inventing another identity for the computer.
There is a virtue of mistrust and wisdom in knowing significantly more about
yourself than you reveal.
•Use the enemy’s supply. With portable video one can take the
American mythology right off the air and use it as part of a new
perceptual collage.
P a r t II
The relations we need are triadic, not diadic. Once you give me triadic
relations, I can make N-adic relations; but out of diadic relations, I
can't go anywhere. I can build strings and I can build circles, and
there it ends.
The great problem of the nervous system is the one concerning its core,
the so-called reticular formation…This reticular core is the thing that
decides whether you’d better run or whether you’d better fight, whether
you should wait, whether you should sleep, whether you should make
love. That’s its business and it has never relinquished that business. It
is a structure incredibly simple when you look at it…but the problem
that I’m up against is the problem of organization of many components,
each of which is a living thing, each of which, in some sense, senses the
world, each of which tells others what it has sensed, and somehow a
couple of million of these cells get themselves organized enough to
commit the whole organism. We do not have any theory yet that is
capable of handling such a structure. Communication: Theory and
Research, ed. Thayer Lee, 1967. McCulloch’s commentary on “Logical
I have not made a thorough study of McCulloch. That would take years. I do
not know if what follows satisfies that criterion he established for such a
calculus. I have maintained a certain organization of ignorance relative to
formal cybernetics and formal topology. In fact, what follows would not, it
seems, satisfy the kind of discreteness, one-two-three that McCulloch seemed
to want. However, such discreteness may not be necessary.
My approach stems from work with McLuhan that preoccupied me with the
problem of how to maintain congruence between our intentions and our
extensions. McLuhan talked of orchestration of media and sense ratios.
Neither cut it. Orchestras just aren’t around, and sense ratios, or sensus
communis, is a medieval model, essentially a simile of meta-touch. Gibson’s
book on the senses considered as perceptual systems is richer in description of
the process. It includes McLuhan’s personal probing ability as an active part of
the perceptual system.
There are three immediate areas where I think this topological calculus of
intention can be of use: acid metaprogramming, a grammar of video infolding
and perceptual sharing, and in soft control structures using plastic membranes.
The mathematical operation which took place in the computer was the
movement of energies and masses of data from the supra-self-
metaprogram down to the self-metaprogrammatic level and below. At
the same time there was the knowledge that programmatic materials
had been moved from the “supra-self position” to the “under self-
control position” at the programmatic level. These operations were all
filed in metaprogram storage under the title “the key is no key”.
Programming and MetaProgramming. Lily, pp.42-43
•To replay for oneself tape of self with tape of self is to contain that
process in a new dimension.
•At one level that of reality that is left off the tape is the part
uncontained.
•If it is somebody else’s tape you are watching, you can to an extent
share in this live perceptual system via the tape he took.
•If you are editing some of your tape along with tape somebody else
shot and he is doing the same thing using some of your tape, then
it is possible to see how one’s perceptions relate to another’s
intention and vice versa.
The most explicit experience of this mode of perceptual sharing came in the
early days of Raindance when Frank Gillette, Ira Schneider, Michael
Shamberg, and I shot twelve rolls of tape on Earth Day. Both in replay that
evening (we laughed our heads off digging each other’s tape while the old
perceptual imperialist Walter Cronkite explained Earth Day for us) and in the
edits that followed, each of us got a good idea of how each saw and thought
about the events vis-a-vis the others.
1.
* Cybernetics, the science of pure relations, or relationship itself, has its origin
in karma. Marshall McLuhan’s famous phrase “Media is message” was
formulated by Norbert Wiener in 1948 as “The signal, where the message is
sent, plays equally important role as the signal, where the message is not sent.”
**From an essay written in 1965, and published by the Something Else Press,
Spring 1966.
2.
Another parallel between the two thinkers is the simulation or comparison of
electronics and physiology. Wiener’s main them was “control and
communication in animal AND machine” (note: animal comes first), which he
put as the subtitle of his main work, “Cybernetics”. He reached to the
automatic control of the anti-aircraft gun, an earliest model of today’s huge
computer, through the study of feedbacks in animals’ nerve system. Also the
binary code of today’s computer has its origin in the “all or nothing” character
of our Neuron synapses, which are either simply “ON” or “OFF”. …
**From: Nam June Paik, Norbert Wiener and Marshall McLuhan, Institute of
Contemporary Arts Bulletin, London 1967
3.
The real issue implied in ‚Art and Technology’ is not to make another
scientific toy, but how to humanize the technology and the electronic medium,
which is progressing rapidly – too rapidly. Progress has already outstripped
ability to program. I would suggest ‘Silent TV Station’. ….. SILENT TV
Station will simply be ‚there,’ not intruding on other activities … and being
looked at exactly like a landscape … or beautiful bathing nude of Renoir, and
in that case, everybody enjoys the ‘original’ … and not a reproduction….
**From: Statement for TV Bra for a Living Sculpture - Nam June Paik and
Charlotte Moorman,
TV as a Creative Medium, Howard Wise Gallery, 1969
4.
World peace and survival of earth is Public Interest Number I and, needless to
say, Public Interest Number I must be Interest Number I of Public Television.
What we need now is a champion of free trade, who will form a Video
Common Market modelled after the European Common Market in its spirit and
procedure; this would strip the hieratic monism of TV culture and promote the
free flow of video information through an inexpensive barter system or
convenient free market. …
**From: Nam June Paik, Global Groove and Video Common Market, printed
in the WNET-TV Lab News, Issue #2, 1973 (written February 1970)
5.
Research into the boundary regions between various fields, and complex
problems of interfacing these different media and elements, such as music and
visual art, hardware and software, electronics and humanities in the classical
sense … this has been my major task since 1958, when I joined the electronic
music studio at West German Radio in Cologne, headed by K. Stockhausen.
For the past one year, as an artist-in-residence at WNET-TV Lab in New York
City, I have pursued this familiar and furtile terrain. Again and again Norbert
Wiener’s prophesy has proven to be valid even today. …
Computers and video are the two most powerful tools of today, said gene
Youngblood. Yet the full-fledged digital computer has not been used in any of
the video synthesizers existing today (even the one at Computer Image
Corporation). Therefore if we succeed in the fruitful interfacing of a digital
computer and video synthesizer, its effect will be phenomenal. …
Digital computer video will open up a fresh new terrain with powerful
programs which will awaken the latent desire for video art into the concrete
and conscious level, and eventually increase the jobs for video artists,
engineers and businessmen. Our research will fire a chain reaction, which will
let many other video artist-engineers move into this field, as the successful
launching of the Paik-Abe video synthesizers.
**Excerpts from: New Projects, 1972/1973, reprinted for: Nam June Paik:
Videa ‘n’ Videology 1959-1973, Everson Museum of Art, Syracuse, New York
1974
6.
Heute wichtige Problemkomplexe, wie Energie, Ökologie, Ausgleich der
Zahlungsbilanz, Bevölkerungszahlen und multinationale Geschäftspraktiken
sind wesentlich globale Probleme, die globales Denken und auch eine solche
Behandlung verlangen. Das gleiche gilt für unser jahrhundertealtes Gebet um
Frieden auf Erden. Sogar vor dem Zeitalter der Kommunikation über Satellit
war das Fernsehen ein potentiell wichtiges Werkzeug für internationale
Verständigung. Es ist ein Super-Esperanto, das über Sprachbarrieren mithilfe
von metasprachlichem Ausdruck hinweggehen kann. Wieviel Gebrauch haben
wir von diesem Medium für das Werk des Friedens während der vergangenen
Bill Viola
Selected Citations
As Bill Viola’s writings and statements are generally accessible I have chosen
to put together a small series of citations serving the purpose of this internet
project, to foster further reading.
This selection predominantly states Viola’s interests in the developments of
new technologies as they are valid for his work in video, and relate to the larger
context of scientific and philosophical connotations that have inspired his work
throughout.
1.
“The spectrum of electromagnetic energy vibration that makes up the universe
at large far exceeds the narrow bandwidth, or “window” which our sensory
receptors open up to us. As philosophers through the ages have stated, the
human senses can therefore be looked on as limiters to the total amount of
energy bombarding our beings, preventing the individual from being
overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information existing at each and every
instant, Imagination is our key to the doorway of perception. The television
medium, when coupled with the human mind, can offer us sight beyond the
range of our everyday consciousness, but only if it is our desire, both as
viewers and as creators, to want to do so.”
2.
“When I had my first experience with computer videotape editing in 1976, one
demand this new way of working impressed upon me has remained significant.
It is the idea of holism. I saw then that my piece was actually finished and in
existence before it was executed on the VTRs. Digital computers and software
technologies are holistic; they think in terms of whole structures. Word
processors allow one to write out, correct, and rearrange the whole letter before
typing it. Data space is fluid and temporal, hardcopy is for real – an object is
born and becomes fixed in time. Chiseling in stone may be the ultimate
hardcopy.”
“As a start, we can propose new diagrams, such as the “Matrix” structures.
This would be a non-linear array of information. The viewer could enter in at
any point, move in any direction, at any speed, pop in and out at any place. All
directions are equal. Viewing becomes exploring a territory, travelling through
a data space.”….
….”Finally, we can envision other diagrams / models emerging as artists go
deeper into the psychological and neurological depths in search of expressions
for various thought processes and manifestations of consciousness.”
3.
“My ideas about the visual have been affected by this (i.e. the understanding of
sound as material thing….) in terms of something I call “field perception”, as
opposed to our more common mode of object perception. In many of my
videotapes, I have used the camera according to perceptual or cognitive models
based on sound rather than light. I think of all the senses as being unified. I do
not consider sound as separate from image. We usually think of the camera as
an “eye” and the microphone as an “ear”, but all of the sensory modalities exist
simultaneously in our bodies, interwoven into one system which includes
sensory data, neural processing, memory, imagination, and all of the mental
events of the moment. This all adds together to create the larger phenomenon
we simply call experience. This is the real raw material, the medium with
which I work. Science has decided that it is desirable to isolate the senses in
order to stud<y them, but much of my work has been aimed at their
reunification. “Field perception” is the awareness or sensing or an entire space
at once. It is based on a passive, receptive position, as in the way we perceive
sound, rather than an aggressive fragmented one, as in the way our eye works
through the narrowing function of focused attention. It is linked more to an
extended awareness than to momentary attention.”
4.
“Consciously or unconsciously, most people assume the existence of some sort
of space when discussing mental functioning. Concepts and terms for the
manipulation of solid objects are constantly used to describe thoughts, as in
“the back of my mind,” “grasp and idea,” “over my head,” “cling to beliefs, “a
mental block,” and so on. This mental space is directly analogous to the “data
space” in our first brain child, the computer, being the field in which
calculations occur and where the virtual objects of digital graphics are created,
manipulated and destroyed.”
“In technology, the current shift from analog’s sequential waves to digital’s
recumbent codes further accelerates the diffusion of the point of view. Like the
transformation of matter, there is a movement from the solid and liquid states
into the gaseous. There is less coherency, but previously solid barriers become
porous and the perspective is that of the whole space, the point of view of the
air. Space without a container is the mental world of thoughts and images.
Many of the techniques of the shaman rely on gaining a masterful uncanny
control over one’s “point of view,” a realization that point of view is not
necessarily synonimous with physical position.”
5.
„It is not the point to try, and „resolve“ these apparent collisions as much as it
is to realize that they are the direct and predictable expression of a new and
unfamiliar set of conditions now in place. These conditions are not geographic,
climatic, conventional or traditional. The real ordering forces at work today
under the surface that create these seemingly jarring juxtapositions are
alphanumeric; they are informational and economic, and ultimately political.
Their ground is trans-cultural and multinational. It is only because we are still
viewing the landscape at the surface level, and don’t see that what pops up and
meets the eye in seemingly random or unrelated patterns from below is really
integrally bound together, connected and coherent, just beneath the surface. To
see the unseen is an essential skill to be developed at the close of the 20th
century.”
“We must revise our old ways of thinking that perpetuate the separation of
mind and body. These attitudes negate much of world culture’s response to the
questions of mind and being and self and, for example, deny the validity of
such things as the 2,500 year old disciplines of meditation throughout the
world, Without this approach of understanding and controlling the mind
through the body, we find that ironically one of the major problems in the West
today arises from a lack of a focused developed mind, neglected by an
overemphasis on the body as a cosmetic self-defining image detached from any
deeper function.”
“I relate to the role of the mystic in the sense of following a “Via Negativa” –
of feeling the basis of my work to be in unknowing, in doubt, in being lost, in
questions and not answers – and that recognizing that personally the most
important work I have done has come from not knowing what I was doing at
the time I was doing it. This is the power of the time when you just jump off
the cliff into the water and don’t worry if there are rocks just below the
**From: Jörg Zutter, “Interview with Bill Viola”. In: Bill Viola: Unseen
Images, Städtische Kunsthalle, Düsseldorf 1992, pp. 99-104 (English
translation)
Digital Space:
A Research Proposal
Introduction
Robert Morris
“keynote address”
It has always seemed to me that when an artist is asked to speak about his
work, that one of two assumptions is being made: one, that because he has
made something, he has anything to say about it, or two, if he does, he would
want to. Questionable assumptions, in my opinion. But in my case, I was not
asked, I was told. It was part of my contract and I couldn't get it changed. In
any case one should not forget Claes Oldenberg's remark that anyone who
listens to an artist talk should have his eyes examined. Now the work I came
out here to do is not even started, so it seems premature for me to discuss it or
attempt a dialogue with you who've not yet experienced it. Some 20 minutes of
restful silence might be the most positive contribution I could make here, but it
would, I'm afraid, be misinterpreted. So treading the edge of silence, I will
speak in the most general terms.
I would like to address the question: what is public art? But the very question
suggests further questions rather than answers. For example, if there is such a
thing as public art, what then is private art? I think we would agree that
whatever else it might or might not be, the term public art has come to
designate works not found in galleries or museums (which are public spaces),
but frequently in association with public buildings, and funded with public
monies.
For about a decade now, there have been works produced which are found
neither in galleries nor museums, nor in association with architecture. This is
the type of public art I want to address here. Such work is invariably
manifested outside and is generally of a large scale. Other than those two
characteristics, it has been fairly varied. Some has focused on the earth itself,
some veers toward architecture, some involves both construction and
rearranging of the landscape. Such work has been termed earthworks and site-
works. Much of it has been impermanent - in some cases, set up only for the
sake of documentation. Such work exists then as a photograph and reverts back
to being housed in a gallery, or in the media. It would not be accurate to
designate privately funded early works of Smithson or Heizer or De Maria in
remote parts of the desert as public art. The only public access to such works is
photographic.
However, since the early 70's, a number of large scale works, both permanent
and impermanent, situated outside, have been accessible to the public, and to a
greater or lesser extent, have been made possible by public funds. So to some
extent, large outside projects, earthworks or otherwise, have moved from the
private domain (that is, private in the sense of private funding and physical
remoteness) to that of the public.
Of course, it is a question as to whether we have in such works, leaving aside
their financing and use of alternative spaces, anything in significantly structural
ways different from works found in art galleries. In my opinion, there is a
certain amount of earthwork and site-work that has been done, or is being
done, that brings new structural assumptions to art-making. Of course, any
attempt to class these works as more in the public domain,
more accessible, more directed to a public use, is in one way rather comical in
the face of the literal busloads of people prowling the museums and galleries of
New York City, and that neo-Paxtonian disco-delirious culture palace of
Beaubourg in Paris. The public is breaking the doors down to get at it in these
two cities. Perhaps here, the U.S. government has observed this fact, and their
current populist. middle-brow policies of bringing the mediocre to the many is
perceived by them as an emergency measure designed to diffuse concentrated
culture. Perhaps they fear cultural riots.
In any case, whether it be Soho or Seattle, art has come to be perceived as fun,
as accessible, as entertainment rated G. Many have sighed with relief and taken
the popularity of the arts as convincing evidence that there is no longer an
hermetic and recalcitrant avant-garde. I'll return to this notion in connection
with modernism and its demise.
In attempting to assess the notion of public art, it might be useful to examine
the history of the genre. If we turn to examine 19th Century public art, we are
addressing the monument. Clearly, the antecedents to the work we are
discussing is sculpture and not architecture or even mural painting. I think that
it is important to bear in mind that all of the people who've made advanced
work in the mode of earthworks and site-works or even certain quasi-
architectural ones have been sculptors. And it is only out of historical
pressures, and formal exhaustions of sculpture, that the present large-scale,
outside works could have come. The 19th Century abounds in forgotten neo-
classical monuments to larger-than-life events and people. The crisis and
gradual retreat from the possibility of sculpture as monument come with Rodin.
His figurative group, The Burghers of Calais, was barely accepted after great
difficulty. The later Balzac was never installed in the intended site, and the
Gate of Hell was never finished. The two major works of Rodin, the Balzac
and the Gate, both conceived as monuments, were failures in those terms. As
Rosalind Krauss has pointed out, it is at this point in the crisis and failure of the
outside monument that sculpture comes indoors to thrive in the homeless, non-
sited modernism. Historicizing at the generally-accepted reckless pace, one
could say that from the generalizing volume of the Balzac, Brancusi
fragmented and volumized further to put sculpture firmly on the road to the
independent object, finding its apotheosis in the minimalism of the early
1960's, from which point it turned toward the door and finally made it outside
again. This is one narrative which features not only Rodin and Brancusi, but
Judd, LeWitt, Andre, Smithson, Serra, Oppenheim, Morris, and others.
One could trace another, chronicling the movement as independent object and
see an unbroken chain of burdensome marble, bronze and steel adorning
architectural plazas, courtyards, sculpture gardens and fountains, and featuring
Carpeau, Pevsner, Smith, Caro, De Suvero, Oldenberg, and others. No doubt,
this goes to show that one person's historicizing is another's fiction.
In any case, the work we are discussing not only does not adorn architectural
spaces, but in most cases has a dialectical relationship to the site it occupies.
Another characteristic of the work under discussion and one inherited from
minimalism is the co-existence of its space with that of the viewer. The
emergence of this characteristic in the 60's also signalled, more than any other
formal one, the termination of indoor sculptural efforts as modernist for it
purified the work as a sculptural object and drove it toward architecture,
toward temporal rather than instantaneous perception. The pressures for
increased scale in the lateral dimension, by extending and articulating a space,
which included the viewer, pushed such work out of the confines of the gallery.
Hence, it is no surprise that the first large-scale exterior earthworks and site
constructions of Smithson, Heizer, Serra, Morris and others exhibit strong
gestalt forms, extended into space, as a heritage from minimalist form. But I
think it is fair to say that by the mid-60’s, there was mare than just formal
pressures forcing sculpture to move outside. Part of the impetus was the raging
commodity use to which gallery art was being put. Such were the times, when
a collector like Robert Scull could say to another collector, "I just bought ten
works by X." To which the other collector replied, "I never heard of him; he’s
a nobody." To which Scull replied, "After I bought ten of them, he's
somebody.''
The fact that the first large-scale works were privately funded, some by Mr.
Scull himself, indentured the artist, perhaps more than any gallery sale.
There was a feeling, however misguided that the artist was operating outside
the crassness of the marketplace, that he had left off producing saleable objects,
that he was somehow specially privileged by this patron relationship, that he
was acting more in the real world.
I think these attitudes were illusions, but at the time they were prevalent.
In passing, it is worth making a distinction here between modernism and avant-
garde. During the early 60's the two coincided momentarily, but the formal
lines of painting and sculpture were maintained. In the late 60's this was not the
case. Formats were dismantled and forms proliferated. In my opinion, this
proliferation has not engendered a pluralistic kind of liberal tolerance which
has diffused critical art issues. I believe there are still avant-garde art issues of
a structural and critical nature. Such issues do not happen to be identified
exclusively with particular, ongoing forms, but they are avant-garde in the
sense of being at the leading edge of critical thought and art moves - moves
which, needless to say, are not self-critical in the old fashioned modernist
sense.
Some of the ostensible formal elements involved - space, scale and time - are
not simply expanded, made larger in site-works of extended size. Such
elements become quite different to deal with in an exterior context. Perception
of large spaces and distances is of a different order from the relatively
undemanding instantaneous order for objects in closed interior spaces.
Priorities can shift within the handling of these formal elements. What may
have been latent and un-emphasized in interior work may come to the fore in
an outside situation in quite different ways. Take the element of time, for
example. It is not much emphasized in previous object sculpture. In fact, it was
generally assumed not to be a formal parameter at all, as objects are pretty
much apprehended all, as objects are pretty much apprehended all at once. But,
as I indicated, as a space expanded in certain minimalist work, time began to
emerge as a necessary condition under which the work is perceived. Complex
and extended works which assumed the viewer's presence from within, so to
speak, locked time into space itself. Outside works expand and articulate this
much further, and because site-works are inseparable from their places, an
element like time or space is not bound entirely as a formal element within the
object properties of the work. Such elements must be acknowledged as
existential properties of the complex of work and site together, and can't be
separated from such features as changes of topography, of light, of
temperature, of the seasons. Those works which respond as well to historical,
economic, social or political features of a place are then reaching beyond even
these transmuted formal properties in shaping a work.
An awareness of the myriad existential functions of the particular place, be this
desert or town, hillside or swamp, gravel pit or vacant lot, demands a range of
responsiveness and opportunities for change not implied for the most part in
the gallery or museum context.
When the better work is examined, it seems evident that the encounter with the
existential conditions of place has been formative. Reactions to particular
features of that place, be they temporal, geological, topographical, social,
spatial, historical, economic, etc., have moved the arts significantly off a purely
formal axis. Making the work more locally relevant has not made it more
parochial, in my opinion, but more inextricably a part of the time and place in
which it exists.
Sophisticated formal concerns are not so much weakened here as they have
come to be assumed as a necessary requirement, but perhaps now not the
central motivating concern.
I would argue that the formative uses of these transmuted formal and trans-
formal, locally relevant conditions of place have added a significant structural
new element to the art-making. Such usages derive from the context of place,
and form the art with what can once again be called a theme. It will be
remembered that both Rodin's and Brancusi's works are informed by what can
be described as themes. Fairly general and romantic in Rodin's case, jejune and
mystical, perhaps, in Brancusi's.
If the thematic in the new work represents in some sense a return or
reconnection to 19th Century art, this is, in itself, a new art issue. But the
redefinitions involved in the formal and thematic, and as we shall see, the uses
to which the art is put, also raise new issues.
The incorporation of a new motive and internal structure, that is, the thematic
as a contextual response, constitutes more than a variation. Here we are not
talking about mere empirical differences between past indoor sculptures and
site-works, but about a shift in the basis for proceeding to make the work. Such
different assumptions, motives, responses and results also do more than raise
aesthetic issues as to what art can be. They raise moral questions, as well, as to
where art should be, and who should own it, and how it should be used.
In terms of broad thematic differences between various site-works which now
exist, one general grouping can be made - of those who have chosen to work in
inaccessible parts of the great Southwest to pursue various themes of
Emersonian transcendentalism truly reminiscent of 19th Century attitudes, a
kind of re-living of the pioneer spirit, of subduing the West in artistic terms.
There can perhaps be found the last rugged individualist, toiling with a
bulldozer rather than Conestoga wagons to construct quasi-religious sites for
meditation.
Those working closer to urban sites and in less overwhelmingly romantic
landscapes have produced work more often informed by social, economic,
political, and historical awareness, as well as by concretely physical ones
relevant to the site.
My intention here is not to give a critique, either in formal or thematic terms,
of existing siteworks but, as I said at the beginning, to tread near that
treacherous, crumbling edge of the general, where broad differences come into
view. But examples abound of the distinctions I am making. Those less public
works done in the desert are fairly well-known. Less known perhaps are works
of such artists as Trakas, Miss, Aycock, Singer, Acconci, Fleischner, Irwin,
Holt, and others, all of whom have worked frequently in non spectacular and
sometimes dense urban sites with extremely varied formal and thematic
approaches. Such work, in my opinion, presents a sharper critical edge than
that which is more pastoral and remote. It is also more public in the literal,
aesthetic, and social senses.
It should be apparent that in using the term “thematic” in relation to the new
work I am using the term in l) a very general way, and 2) a very different sense
from how it is relevant to 19th-century work. The thematic in the work I have
mentioned is not commemorative of great events or people; neither is it
narrative in the illustrative sense. Rather, it is commemorative of one or
another of the various aspects of the site itself. I am using the term to designate
this referential aspect, the many things about the work which do not exhaust
themselves in purely formal terms.
In spite of sharp thematic and formal differences between the types of work,
there is, not surprisingly, little sense of an internal dialogue between various
works. Unlike the modernist enterprise of redefinition of sculpture that was
going on in the 60's, there is no comparable discourse cast in terms of formal
moves from one outside work to another. While such work has inherited many
formal and perceptual assumptions worked out by minimalist sculpture, it
seems to be work of quire a different order, primarily because, as I have
argued, it is structured by thematic responses to its context of site. Formal
innovations have not been generally the focus of this work. If some of the first
earthworks now seem a little romantically overblown, no doubt their spectacle
aspect has had something to do with their popular appeal.
It might be worthwhile to discuss the notion of public access, how it is
achieved, and what it might mean. It seems every effort is being made to
amplify these Seattle projects in the media. The cynical might say that such an
effort masks an anxiety to justify the money spent on the projects. For as we
have witnessed, intense media coverage, even if it is controversial, tends to be
a form of legitimization in this country. The popular media is not always in a
position to evenly assess events so much as it is to promote them to the realm
of the super-real, the mythical, and ultimately, if there is enough repetition, the
historical.
But I think other assumptions lie beyond the media push surrounding these
projects-namely, the assumption that there is something especially relevant to
and open for the public in these projects, that they defend an aggressive, non-
elitist, an even anti-museum stance, while at the same time counting as
advanced art. Again, a cynic might reply that it is the spectacle aspect of much
outside site and earthworks which is responsible for their popular appeal. Now,
I don't have anything against spectacle. In the 60's I was one of the early ones
to perform nude in a work called Waterman Switch. The effort elicited sneers
from some of my colleagues and a certain amount of media attention. But the
attention was addressed to the spectacle nature of the work and offered no
informed critical response. It has been the fate of much site work to be
addressed by the media for its sensational aspect: art's answer to Disneyland.
Come on out and risk your life crawling through tunnels and teetering on
ladders! Or better still, if you're man enough, I should say person enough,
make a risky pilgrimage to the inaccessible desert wilderness where, if one can
avoid the sidewinders and the cryptic remarks of the taciturn artist, one can
return sunburned, but definitely enriched, or at least thrilled, and with a stack
of Kodachrome slides.
John Ford, eat your heart out!
Still, site-works will never approach certain forms of more popular art in
eliciting the highest forms of sensationalist response. Pauline Kael described
the sounds of Maria Schneider's panties being ripped off by Marlon Brando in
The Last Tango in Paris as comparable to the first four notes of Beethoven's
Fifth. Now, it is a sad but true fact that no lowly plastic artist could ever attain
such heights or depths, as the case may be. I don't want to imply that the
spectacle-oriented responses are illegitimate. Art doesn't legislate responses,
but, in my opinion, art that is interesting is interesting by virtue of its internal
structures, notwithstanding whatever external spectacle it might present.
Rather, it is art in which there is an importance in how things are put together
by the human mind, those inventive, perceptual, ordering achievements which
make art fascinating and deep from the inside, as it were.
What is frequently and popularly termed great art, usually in relation to long
dead artists, often involves nostalgia, often a nostalgia even for long-lost
spectacle hero worship or some comforting sense of the familiar. Why else
would major museums want lavish shows on third-rate, but solid gold King Tut
artifacts, or why else would the Museum of Modern Art follow the Cezanne
show, an unnecessary non-modern but by now thoroughly familiar set of
images, with a museum-wide exhibition of Picassos, again as familiar as
calendar images. Such popular judgments are made from the outside, or else in
the interest of attendance.
But the assessment of internal structure demands a certain informed response,
at least that level that is available in interest in art. It's available in much site-
work, which is not to say it denies any spectacle or popular appeal the work
might have.
I only want to indicate here in general terms the ways in which recent site and
earthworks are different from previous sculpture, by virtue of their internal
structures, and to raise some discussions as to how such work qualifies for the
designation public art.
In doing so, I want to draw attention to its continuity with the past tradition of
modernism in 19th Century work, as well as its break from those traditions. If
it represents a new direction, it can equally be seen as a return via certain
redefinitions to a justification for monumental work which had been cast aside
at the birth of modernism and now appears once again on the dual grave sites
of modernism and abandoned industrial landscapes.
In contrast, nothing now seems deader than large-scale outside object
sculpture, that other tradition I mentioned. Attempting to live in symbiosis with
architecture, insofar as it retained its autonomy as an object, it forfeits any
structural or thematic relation to its context.
I'd go even farther in the cases of those artists still producing the sort of work
which achieved identity and recognition in the 60's as modernist and include
modes of work derived from Cubist antecedents as well as the minimal. The
continued production of such works placed outside, or even inside for that
matter, seems more than suspect at this time. It is true that artists must live for
the most part by the production of saleable objects. But that does not justify art
that reduces its ambition to the tiny focus of mere variation of past modes for
the sake of sales. It reduces art to a craft function, and blackens its image as an
ambitious undertaking concerned, as any ambitious discipline, to go forward by
risking attempts at internal structural discovery. In short, much like
manufacturing, masquerading as art today, large-scale object sculpture has
abdicated the objective of art, which is the ambition for new structure in the
most extended sense. Such an aim lies on the other side of either superficial
newness for its own sake, or the permutation of desiccated modernist ideas.
Generalizing further, I would say that the weakened position of much art of the
70's is endemic, and can be linked to a lack of significant intellectual dissent in
the country at the present time. But this is the subject for another discussion. Of
course, so long as mindless city planning prevails, and bureaucratic
architecture yearns for decor, there will be dumb sculpture burdening plazas,
and greenswards and site-works will have to find dumps, swamps, gravel pits,
and other industrially ravaged pieces of the landscape, if they are to be located
near urban centers. Personally, I prefer such wasted areas to those numbing
plazas and absurd sculpture gardens. In regard to the present situation here in
Seattle, we have an alternative to art as urban decor in the form of art as land
reclamation.
In closing, I want to take this opportunity to thank the King County Arts
Commission for sponsoring these present projects. To my knowledge, this is
the first time that art has functioned as land reclamation. The idea of cleaning
up the landscape that has been wasted by industry is not, of course, new. I have
previously had discussions with coal mining interests in West Virginia, and I
know Robert Smithson was negotiating some time ago with coal miners in the
West. But a few things have not been discussed, to my knowledge, about art as
land reclamation.
The first thing seems rather bizarre to me. That is, that the selling point was, is,
that the art was going to cost less than restoring the site to its “natural
condition.” What are the implications of that kind of thinking ... that art should
be cheaper than nature? Or that site-works can be supported and seen as
relevant by a community only if they fulfil a kind of sanitation service?
The most significant implication of art as land reclamation is that art can and
should be used to wipe away technological guilt. Do those sites scarred by
mining or poisoned by chemicals now seem less like the entropic liabilities of
ravenous and short-sighted industry and more like long-awaited aesthetic
possibilities? Will It be a little easier in the future to rip up the landscape for
one last shovelful of non-renewable energy source if an artist can be found
(cheap, mind you) to transform the devastation into an inspiring and modern
work of art? Or anyway, into a fun place to be? Well, at the very least, into a
tidy, mugger-free park.
It would seem that artists participating in art as land reclamation will be forced
to make moral as well as aesthetic choices. There may be more choices
available than either a cooperative or critical stance for those who participate.
But it would perhaps be a misguided assumption to suppose that artists hired to
work in industrially blasted landscapes would necessarily and invariably
choose to convert such sites into idyllic and reassuring places, thereby socially
redeeming those who wasted the landscape in the first place.
Introduction
The following is an excerpt with updates from an essay I wrote for the
scientific Journal Leonardo.
I believe that the new role of the artist is to create an art that questions
the status quo and the direction life has taken, the endless contradictions
we accept and approve, offering intelligent alternatives.
I plant forests on abused land to be kept alive for centuries and fields of
grain in the heart of megacities. This work goes beyond just planting a
field or a forest, or creating long-range masterplans for large territories
in need of restructuring. It is benign problem solving and shaping,
structuring the future: an ego-less art form that calls attention to social
concerns and involves people from all walks of life. It builds pride and
self esteem in people and benefits future generations with a meaningful
legacy.
This new art form goes beyond the self and the ego without being
selfless. It assumes the difficult task of maintaining a delicate balance
between thinking globally and acting independently, for the ego must
remain intact to allow the self to act fearlessly, with the certainty and
confidence necessary for true creation, while the ego must be
relinquished in order to think universally, and for the good of others.
Other works are dealing with very large spaces, large by necessity in
order to rebuild our environment and make a difference. As difficult as
it is to realize these works, I think it is absolutely necessary to make
them happen all over the world as examples of what needs to be done to
restore landfills, or destroyed, barren land where resource extraction has
taken its toll, and on deforested soil to stop erosion, purify the air,
protect fresh ground water and provide home for wildlife. And to create
them in the nervous tension of cities, to give people a chance to stay in
touch with nature, allowing it to speak its own special language
articulated through human intelligence.
I believe that artistic vision, image and metaphor are powerful tools of
communication that can become expressions of human values to have
profound impact on our consciousness and collective destiny.
***
Later I was asked to re-enact the work— this ritual on a full scale at
Artpark in Lewiston, New York at the Canadian border.
I planted a half-acre rice field 150 feet above the Niagara gorge. The
site marked the birthplace of Niagara Falls between Canada and the
U.S., twelve thousand years ago. The rice grew up mutant, an
unforeseen consequence of the soil having been contaminated by the
accident at Love Canal and Artpark previously being a dump-site
nearby.
Then I went out to the edge of Niagara Falls and lived there for 7 days
and nights, a foot from the torrent spilling over the edge. It was in this
tiny space that I had one of the most dynamic and also spiritual
experiences coming face to face with the power of nature. The slippery
ground shook violently having been dynamited to control the retreat of
the Falls. I had to sign documents for both the U.S. and the Canadian
governments that if I fell in and died I would not sue them. The
incredible power and violence of the water next to me, the ground
shaking beneath me, the white vapor and white foam below and the
noise that made me deaf was an experience of the magnitude of nature
and our insignificance that took my breath away. And all the while, for
7 days and nights I kept writing and photographing, taking refuge in my
art from the scary experience.
This was the force of nature, the fourth element added to my dialectics,
also affirming that my art functioned on the edge in a delicate balance
between universals and the self, and was not afraid to assume the risks
such art must take.
P.S. The above text written in 1982 has now added poignancy and
relevance after 9/11/01.
agnesdenes@earthlink.net