A. B. Meadows
“ART WORKS CAN MAKE US SEE”
In defense of minimalism as
one of several ways to approach the world inside and outside of us, through
painting
Matter impacts mind. Proportions
are felt, colors sensed and relations between colors, too. Light waves
travel and reach the retina – reaching the seeing hearing smelling
body. Frequencies translate into something inside: should I call it “vibrations”?
It is not purely metaphoric to speak of the “tone” of a color – the inaudible
“sound” it emits, the melody and rhythm of a visual work of art, its “music,”
its harmony or dissonance. This also brings to mind that there is something
that people call synaesthesia – a word derived from the Classical
Greek concept synaistesis, that refers to the capability to “perceive jointly”
different phenomena that seem to belong to separate categories of the world,
and that are normally registered by different and distinct senses. Yes,
our senses refer us to a world – the world of touch smell sight that links
with and feeds our inner world of dreams and thoughts and emotions, our
states of mind, reaching from agitation to grief or joy, or simply tranquility.
We all know that dissonance
can be fresh and creative, awakening something in us, like a loud cry for
help, an alarming (“all'armi” or: “aux armes”) call, a painful shriek or
surprised shout.
But does harmony or balance put
us to sleep? And if so, can that state, close to sleep perhaps, that peaceful
state of mind, can calmness and an equilibrium that is reached again, have
a healing effect?
There are works of art, abstract,
often monochrome works that we have come to refer to as “minimalist” which
often have such a tranquile, almost meditative effect.(1)
Malevich,
Black
Square (1915)
Whether purely black in the way
of a monochrome painting, like Malevich's “Black Square” (1915), a strictly
minimalist achievement avant la lettre, or exploring the effect of
a rectangular white space placed on a white canvas and their minimal differences
in tone, as in Malevichs's “Suprematist Composition: White on White”
(1918), minimalist works reduce our mental attachment and reference to
ideas not related to the work of art in front of us.(2)
And
they are thus likely to “bracket” or suspend – at least for the moment,
under the condition of intense yet calm and concentrated confrontation
with the work – our involvement in thoughts and emotions that might
otherwise preoccupy us, and our focus on physical things and social relationships
(thus class relations) that exist around us.(3)
What remains in the center of our attention is the work of art made by
the painter: its material way of “being there” – as some say; its unnamable,
elusive, perhaps mysterious “essence,” as others maintain.
Malevich, Suprematist Composition: White onWhite (1918)
Such interpretations, which highlight
either the material aspect or the essence of minimalist art, are still
being offered post festum, after works like those by Malevich I
mentioned above were created and then put squarely in front of the
nose of the audience. The first view, which concentrates on the concrete,
clearly describable facets of the work, its “object character,” implies
a materialist approach; the second that evokes the “spiritual in art” reflect
the idealist position vis-à-vis the work, a position not uncommon
among artists and art critics.(4)
The fact that both interpretations
can appear to us as plausible should let us explore this coincidence. The
black painting is there; of course we will notice its size, the particular
black of the surface, the texture of the canvas. We may even note the way
light is reflected, depending on how the work is exposed to it. Focusing
in this way on the material quality of the object is not a gratuitous act;
the seeming absence of a “narration,” of “content,” of conventional “referentiality”
directs us to form, structure, color, the material per se.
But then, of course, by way of excluding
“the expected” – that is to say: exactly that which was acknowledged as
an accepted approach of “serious art” in 1915 – a work like the “Black
Square” incorporates in fact an implicit reference: to the expectations
it disappoints and the tenets inscribed in the dominant canon that it breaks
with. For Viktor Šklovskij, such disappointment of the expected, such a
break with the tenets of a canon that would, of necessity, become “automatized,”
was a prerequisite for genuine aesthetic perception.(5)In
order to perceive the break with artistic norms and in order to understand
this, while we confront a work like Malevich's “Black Square,” we have
to do more than to smell, to perhaps feel the texture (with our eyes) and
to touch the frame, to lift up the framed canvas and feel its weight. We
have to construct a context in our mind, we must think.
To think about aesthetic conventions
and about the fact that they are being challenged by a work, and even to
feel the un-expected (if we are too unaware of art traditions and the changing
canon), evolves our mind, thus the “spirit” – as some of us will prefer
to call it.
Book cover of a recent French edition of Kandinsky's
Ueber das Geistige in der Kunst.(6)
Is it then the spiritual that “touches”
us (as some say) while we see the work of art? Is it impossible to
separate our material sense perception of the material work of art – a
work of art that apparently refuses to carry any (explicit) “content” and
that insists on being a pure object – from our ability to feel and
dream and think?
The spiritual “touch” that some
speak of may well be the “immaterial” way we are moved by feelings and
thoughts and words that form in our mind, which in turn reflect a history
of thoughts and ideas, of discourses and utterances which relate, in one
way or other, to the observations, conclusions, or merely the expressed
“feelings” of Others.
If this is so, we can conclude
perhaps that the process of culture we are in touch with and part of (being
influenced by it, and participating in it) is, in fact, the non-metaphysical
realm of the “spiritual.” Without doubt, this “spiritual realm” exists
– as a product of a material world, a society inhabited by material women
and men. And it is just as true that this flesh that breathes and feels
and thinks, cannot be reduced to mechanics, to chemistry, to anything that
is “reductionist” about the positivist natural sciences.(7)
Positivist researchers focused on
an “exact” scientific understanding of dreams, taken here as a pars pro
toto that represents the subconscious imaginaire, have measured REM phases
and their relationship to the frequency or absence of dreams; they have
also been involved in mechanist brain research, in neurolinguistics, etc.
– but they do not explain the magic experience of dreams, nor do they explain
the creative act as such, and the existence of our sense of beauty. Freud
was closer to an understanding of both dreams and the roots of art when
he attempted his own materialist interpretation, referring us, in the case
of dreams, to the childhood experiences suffered in the real world; but
his approach focused on the family situation, not society at large, and
it remained thus of restricted validity. As for the “motor” of art, he
saw it in what he called the Wunsch (désir), drawing parallels
between Traumarbeit (« travail du rêve ») and
artistic creation. But it seems that the creative impulse and potential
of man, linked as it may be to le désir, seems to transcend the
sexual, in the narrow sense, and can be interpreted as that impulse in
man that is aiming at what Ernst Bloch called the “Noch nicht” (the “Not
yet”) or the subconsciously envisaged and longed for liberated future of
man when alienation is overcome.(8)
As Robert Paris has pointed out,
materialist and idealists world views do not confront each other in a sort
of diametrical opposition but dialectically: “they need each each
other in order to progress by battling each other.”(9)He
added that “the interpenetration of matter and ideas is a simple everyday
experience.(10)
It is interesting that Paul Klee,
who tended to accentuate metaphysical interpretations like other artists
of his time, has shown a good sense of a particular kind of interpenetration
of (what is usually considered to be) dead, inanimated “matter” and such
potentialities as sense perception that clearly belong to the sphere of
the “animated.” He did so, spontaneously, when he was confronted with a
certain technological invention. At least, he came close to a position
anticipated theoretically (or philosophically) by Aristotle when, reflecting
on the recently invented phonograph, he exclaimed that “Matter hears!”
This reveals an intuitive insight into a metaphorical “animatedness” of
matter, something that would correlate with the monistic interpretation
of man as animated human body, matter that breathes and dreams –
its “soul” being, as Aristotle had it, “the form” or
in other words, using a synonymous philosophical category, “a quality”
of the body.(11)
In such moment of awareness as Paul
Klee revealed, “idealistic” metaphysics turns spontaneously “materialist,”
confirming the dialectical relationship between the two “visions du monde.”
Like Paul Klee, Malevich undoubtedly
sought to buttress his idealist, metaphysical world view when he created
paintings that were object art, three-dimensional due to the frame, but
above all: canvas, structure, texture, color, weight, size – devoid of
manifest emotional and intellectual content. The spiritual impulse found
a material objectivation that became very radical in its aesthetic formulation.
..
Two of Rodchenko's monochromes
Devoid of the ideas that provided
the frame of reference for these early prototypes of what would become,
or resurface, as Minimalism after World War II, in so far as the original
ideological position of the painter of the “Black Square” was being contradicted
by an opposing one, Rodchenko scrapped the interpenetration of Malevich's
“union of opposites” (pure object and pure essence) and produced, with
polemical intent, canvases that where, in the last analysis, mechanically
reproducable monochromes.(12)That
these works, too, were seen and must still be seen as art works, is due
to the fact that they embody an undeniable beauty, a sensitive use of color
and proportion. And it is perhaps also related to the further fact that
they were still hand-made painted works – a fact that according to
Walter Benjamin may contribute to their aura.(13)
Looking back at the predecessors
of “minimalist” post-war art, the question arises of course whether their
radicalism can still be heightened, and whether anything was and still
is left for further exploration by today's artists, in that direction chosen
so obviously by Malevich – or in the direction opposed to Malevich's direction
that Rodchenko opted for. It is clear that these two painters refuted,
in the works here referred to, the sensual richness and the representational
character that critics and the public cherished in prior European art.
Looking at Rauschenbergs panels
of the 1950s, the explorative progress made is clear: it consists in exactly
the serial quality introduced, by the combination of seven panels, or of
three or four panels, into one work.(14)
Just
as most pop artists did in the 60s, very much in their own way, the “mechanical”
quality of seriality is being playfully subverted. A “low” process (of
combinatory, serial work, as in a factory) is lifted onto the “high” level
of art. Referring to Šklovskij again, we may point out that this adoption
of the seemingly banal, in the context of the creative process, is a mark
of 20th century experimental or avant-garde art.(15)
Robert Rauschenberg, White Painting (three panel), 1951; latex
paint on canvas, 72 in. x 108 in. (182.88 cm x 274.32 cm); Collection SFMOMA,
Purchase through a gift of Phyllis Wattis. © Robert Rauschenberg Foundation
/ Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY.
Rauschenberg created a number if
"white paintings" and "black paintings" in the early 1950s.(16)
It
is noteworthy that he made no attempt to invoke the “spiritual” quality
of his art, as the abstract artist, Klee, and the Suprematist artist, Malevich,
had done. But neither did he retain the revolutionary left-wing fervour
of a Constructivist artist like Rodchenko, or the almost pathetic incantation
of “the miraculous,” cherished by many surrealists.(17)
He
was not even “tongue-in-cheek” – like Fluxus artists might have been –
when he added 7 white, Rodchenko-like panels (or panels similar in painterly
approach and execution, to Malevich's “Black Square”) in order to serially
construct one large, longish rectangle.(18)
Robert Rauschenberg, White Painting (Seven Panel), 1951.
Oil on canvas, 72 x 125 x 1 1/2 inches. Collection of the artist. ©
Robert Rauschenberg Foundation
It was pure, matter-of-fact craftsmanship:
no denial involved that “art was dead.” On the contrary, it was purely
affirmative: It said, look this is art. He didn't say, “Even this is art.”
He was gripped by the feeling that he had created something that would
be noted.(19)
And the way he presented the work in New York, it practically amounted
to saying something like, “This is advanced art. I made a step ahead. A
big step ahead. And I contradicted by it all those competitors who vy for
attention and who are getting too much – de Kooning and all the other abstract
expressionists who crave to 'express themselves.'”(20)
It was clear that he was influenced by Joseph Albers and his, Albers',
insistence that making art was a craft, it implied solid work, a sense
of color, experimentation – but it did not imply self-expression.(21)
Rauschenberg
discarded the first part of Albers' tenet.(22)
And
he took the second part seriously and perhaps overdid it, in the way of
a cool North American businessman who is not interested in self-expression
when he lands a public relations coup.(23)
If one thing is clear it is that there was no ideological underpinning
of the step ahead he had made, in the form of Malevich-type “mysticism”
or spirituality.(24)
But there was research involved.
That easy-coming, intuitive kind of research that let him make this step
ahead of combining the panels, and making the viewer aware, not only of
the texture of the canvas, and the brush strokes by which he had applied
the white house paint color, but also of the frames and thus the panels,
and of the small gaps where the panels were joined together.
It underlined the object quality,
the “materiality” of the work.
Today, when I encounter “minimalist”
works, I still know that Malevich, in 1915 (or was it 1914, or 1913? –
when he painted the Black Square that he exhibited in 1915) made
a big and a radical step ahead in the direction in which he wanted to go.
He made that step regardless of whether we think that it was a sound or
a questionable direction. The works by Clifford Still, by Rauschenberg
and so on, in the late 1940s and early 50s in a way repeated that step,
and if they achieved much, in terms of fresh exploration, they shifted
the frontier a little bit further into unexplored territory. It is difficult
to top radical positions that posit the total negation of something. There
is hardly a point to compose another work featuring silence, after Cage's
4'33'' of SILENCE.(25)
I have gone back to Malevich and
Rodchenko because I consider works like the Black Square, painted by the
former in (or shortly before) 1915 and the monochromes that the latter
did in the 1920s as not only precursors of minimalism but early minimalist
works. This diminishes of course, to some extent, the reputed novelty of
Yves Klein's blue monochromes or Rauschenberg's White Paintings.(26)
When the anonymous author who wrote a brief introduction for the Rauschenberg
exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum extolls Rauschenberg's avant-gardist
role by saying that this artist “can be seen as presaging Minimalism by
a decade,” we do well, in other words, to see to what extent he repeated
something that others had done before him – but also, to what extent
he introduced a new aspect, that is, seriality.(27)
Barnett Newman, Eve (1950)
Thus, with the reputed novelty of
Rauschenberg's choice to create paintings by “minimising the subject” in
1950, the avant-garde aura of the Minimalism of the 1960s is put in question,
as well. The old problem resurfaces: what is totally new, under the sun?
This of course would be an ahistoric way of putting it. The whiteness,
thus void, in Classical Chinese landscape paintings has a different philosophic
significance and is inserted into an aesthetic strategy that is different
from that of either Malevich or Rauschenberg or that of minimalists like
Ad Reinhardt and Barnett Newman who produced, if not white paintings, then
– more generally speaking – monochrome squares and rectangles that
left a mark in recent Western art history.(28)
Perhaps we are to obsessed with the idea of innovation and absolute novelty,
and should instead watch out for what is specific, in a work of art. What
we come across is not always asethetically radical, whether we refer to
minimalist works or works that critics place in other contexts.
And yet, seeing minimalist works
that artists create today, I love to discover the minute qualities that
they manifest, I look for and explore their particular beauty. Perhaps
such works educate us – helping us to look more patiently, more concentratedly,
more closely.
It was Šklovskij who, by speaking
of the "automatization of perception," made us aware, conceptually, of
the decisive difference between true "seeing" that does not simply "confirm"
what we think is there and our conventional way of briefly "recognizing"
things we think we know – where the quick glance is a matter of the
"economy" of perception in everyday life: after all, there exists a history
of how we perceive, there exist engrained mechanisms, and 10,000
years ago a hunter confronting a bear had to grasp the situation very quickly.
Freshness of seeing matters clearly
when we face a work of art. It depends both on the preparedness of the
viewer to truly see rather than being content with a quick glance, and
on the work that reveals its difference from the expected.
In the 1950s and 1960s experimental
filmmakers in the US, some of them perhaps in the footsteps of Hans Richter,
others in those of surrealist filmmakers that came close to the use of
superimposition that we love in the works of Brakhage and Markopoulos,
revealed their aesthetic intention when they spoke of their desire to "see
and make see." It became almost a commonplace among film critics to speak
of "new ways of seeing." The affinity to Rauschenberg's early works and
later Minimal Art is obvious, in this respect(29)
–
but also a certain affinity to Malevich. When "metaphors of vision" mattered
to Brakhage, the realistic representation of the outside world, by way
of the camera eye, receded into the background. Malevich, certainly, sought
something beyond the "outside world" – an essence captured in formal patterns
and thus in "abstraction." All of these directions of aesthetic research
and experimentation were pursued by artists who, on the whole, made no
secret of the fact that they were not determined to be create an art that
could be called "committed" or "politically involved" in the affairs of
society.(30)
It is interesting that Malevich's
interest in "essence" (an absolutely idealistic attitude, we have come
to believe) was echoed, in a very different way, by the German playwright,
thinker and poet Bertolt Brecht. Speaking of realistic representations
of a major German industrial corporation, the AEG, with its vast factory
in Berlin, Brecht said that the realist who would give us a photographic
representation of the "façade of the AEG" would fail to reveal to
us "its essence."(31)
Because it was clear to him that an understanding of the social and politico-economic
essence of the AEG – and of capitalism – mattered, Brecht developed
a new way of "showing things" on stage. He, too, wanted to provoke "a new
way of seeing" that would let us suspend engrained, stereotyped,
superficial ways of "recognizing" again and again what we always thought
was there, even if it wasn't, at least not in the way we thought it was.
It was Mondrian, another pioneer
of abstraction, who interestingly enough, spoke of the "new man" he envisioned
- and this long before the term became a watchword and later on, an automatized,
routine slogan in the now defunct USSR. Mondrian said of the "new man"
that he hoped the future (and also his art?) would bring about, "When he
feels, he thinks - and when he things, he feels."(32)
Mondrian
recognized the split that devastated modern man, due in part, to the hegemony
of "thought" in the wake of Descartes and Newton, and in part due to the
specialization that we can attribute to the mode of production that evolved,
first in Europe, then globally, in the Modern Age. Like others, Mondrian
sought to heal the wound and thought that art could help us to become full,
holistic, non-alienated human beings again. Brecht, I think, would have
critiqued Mondrian as naive – but he, too, bet on art, in his case
drama and poetry. And he, too, while turning his eyes to the real world,
to questions of power and political economy and class relations again,
knew full well that the unity of thought and aesthetic perception –
the unity of clear rather than fuzzy, stereotyped thinking and clear,
beautiful, humane emotions that accompany such thinking – matters
intensely.
Perhaps the art of Malevitch, and
Minimal Art, as well – like so much else that is experimental in the arts
– can be understood as prolegomena, as a test phase and preparatory
stage, for what is to come, and what we all should hope for and try to
achieve: a sensitive art that makes us see, and an art that will not let
us close our eyes to what is patently wrong in the world we inhabit.
NOTES
(1) No wonder that several minimalists
came to embrace Zen inspired aesthetics and a Western type of “Buddhism.”
This tendency is already foreshadowed in the ideological positions of Malevich
who was influenced by G.I. Gurdjieff. As a consequence, “Malevich's contemporaries
(the Bolsheviks and the Constructivists, respectively) were not pleased
with the underlying spirituality.” (Gabrielle K., “Kasimir Malevich and
his "Suprematist Composition:White on White", in: http://culturemob.blogspot.de/2006/12/kasimir-malevich-and-his-suprematist.html.)
It is perhaps interesting to note that Gurdjieff's methodological tendency
to deliberately increase the effort needed in order to read and understand
his writings was reflected in Malevich's way of writing. See: Anna Muse,
"Weaving Texts: A Note on Malevich's Uses of Language," in: Kazimir
Malevich, The White Rectangle: Writings on film. Berlin (Potemkin Press)
2002, pp. 86 -90. The method chosen by both revealed a tendency of
avant-garde art at the time to "make perception difficult" in order to
derail automatized perception, that is to say, modes of perception conditioned
by routine. This strategy is best reflected, analyzed, and conceptualized
in the writings of Šklovskij. See for instance: Viktor Šklovskij, "Die
Kunst als Verfahren" [Art as Method or Art as Procedure (1916)],
in: Jurij Striedter (ed.), Russischer Formalismus. München (Fink)
1988, pp.3-34. [This imporant text resurfaced later on as the first chapter
of his book Theory of Prose as: Art as Technique
(also translated as Art as Device).] It is worthwhile to quote here
a key statement from this article: "Wenn wir uns über die allgemeinen
Gesetze der Wahrnehmung klarwerden, dann sehen wir, dass Handlungen, wenn
man sich an sie gewöhnt hat, automatisch werden. So geraten z. B.
alle unsere Angewohnheiten in den Bereich des Unbewusst-Automatischen [...]
So kommt das Leben abhanden und verwandelt sich in nichts. Die Automatisierung
frisst die Dinge [...] Und gerade, um das Empfinden des Lebens wiederherzustellen,
um die Dinge zu fühlen, um den Stein steinern zu machen, existiert
das, was man Kunst nennt. Ziel der Kunst ist es, ein Empfinden des Gegenstandes
zu vermitteln, als Sehen, und nicht als Wiedererkennen; das Verfahren der
Kunst ist das Verfahren der 'Verfremdung' der Dinge und das Verfahren der
erschwerten Form, ein Verfahren, das die Schwierigkeit und Länge der
Wahrnehmung steigert [...]." In other words, it is important to make
aesthetic perception difficult in order to prompt the viewer to truly see.
For Šklovskij, it was important that the viewer should "sense" or "feel"
the hard "stonen quality" of a stone, the characteristics of the material.
This was achieved by methods and Kunstmittel (art devices) that
make our perception more difficult and compel us to take more time in order
to see a work of art. Malevich, in his emphasis on the spiritual "meaning"
or essence of his abstract compositions, may have disagreed with the prominent
accent put on the importance of sensing the material quality of the work
of art, however. [I apologize for having recourse to a German translation
of Šklovskij's text.]
(2) Margarita Tupitsyn, in her book
on Malevich and Film (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press 2002) has reminded us
of the long-suspected fairly direct connection between “Malevich's early
nonobjective experiments” and “the work of a dizzying array of second-generation
postwar artists, including Richard Serra, Sol LeWitt, Robert Rauschenberg,
Yves Klein, Piero Manzoni, Art & Language, Mel Ramdsen, On Kawara,
Komar and Melamid, Ilya Kabakov, and Allan McCollum.” (Kent Mitchell Minturn,
“Seeing Malevich, Cinematically,” in: Art Journal, Vol. 63, No. 4 (Winter,
2004), pp. 142.
(3) Kent Mitchell
Minturn speaks of “Malevich's Adorno-esque abhorrence of mimesis [...]"
(Kent Mitchell Minturn, “Seeing Malevich, Cinematographically,” in: Art
Journal, Vol. 63, No. 4 (Winter, 2004), p. 143.)
(4) The idealist interpretation
of Malevich's works that is still current was of course pre-figured
in his own writings. It is remarkable that Malevich thought of his canvases
that refused mimesis as “non-objective” when they were in fact devoid of
content and reduced to bare material presence. Malevich's view that emphasized
the spiritual significance of these non-mimetic works is revealed
in his writings edited by Troels Anderson in the 1970s, with later additions
offered by more recent editors.
(5) See the relevant statements
in: Viktor Šklovskij, O teorii prozy. Moskwa 1925; Moskwa (Federacija)
1929; Viktor Šklovskij, Theorie der Prosa (Ed. and transl. by Gisela
Drohla). Frankfurt am Main (S. Fischer Verlag) 1966 [192pp.]; Victor Chlovski,
Sur la théorie de la prose. (Trad. du russe par Guy Verret). Lausanne
( L'Age d'homme) 1973 [300pp.]; Viktor Shklovsky, Theory of Prose (transl.
by Benjamin Sher, with an introduction by Gerald L. Bruns). Elmwood Park
IL (Dalkey Archive Press) 1991 [XXI, 216pp].
(6) See. Wassilij Kandinsky,
Ueber das Geistige in der Kunst, insbesondere in der Malerei. Munich (Piper
Verlag) 1912, 5 leaves, 104 pp., 9 plates, and ten original woodcuts. At
the time, Kandinsky was influenced somewhat by Rudolf Steiner, the founder
of a spiritual doctrine that was inspired both by theosophy and by an idealist
reception of popularized "materialist" (and even socialist) ideas. Steiner,
who had read (and misunderstood) Marx, focused like many progressive liberals
on "the social question" but also - almost as a loner - on a critique of
positivist, non-holistic (nicht ganzheitliche) modern medicine. He called
his doctrine anthroposophy, because man was to be in its center. That his
thinking was attractive to idealist painters was perhaps a result of Steiner's
focus on the psychosomatic effects of.eurhythmics (it would influence Mary
Wigman, and at least indirectly, Martha Graham) and of colors as well as
"organic" architectural forms (something that would influence Hundertwasser
later on). Steiner clearly attempted to "bridge" the abstract opposition
of "matter" and "spirit" by way of his mystic, spiritualist "theory" and
a practice based on his thoughts. As for Kandinsky, he was not alone in
having recourse to mystic thinkers; Paul Klee shared his interest in the
psychic implications (or the psychic resonance, in the viewer) of such
material "phenomena" as colors, visual rhythms, proportions etc. Mondrian
was influenced by theosophy in his search for formal balance and harmony.
Thus, Kandinsky's evocation of the spiritual in art was in line with the
idealist inclinations of many artists around 1910-1917 who, quite helplessly,
confronted the socio-cultural crisis of Western civilization and looked
for, and in fact, suggested idiosyncratic "ways out" of this crisis. Of
course, obscurantist speculation can fructify a poetic mind and lead to
fascinating works of art. The question remains what "kernel of truth" (or
insight into the profound questions of our time) may surface in an oblique
way in speculative idealistic writings and in works of art that are influenced
by their ideas.- On the other hand, the political implications of the "spiritualist"
turn to "abstract art" and to "the spiritual in art" deserve attention.
It was not by chance that Kandinsky's Ueber das Geistige in der Kunst was
able to influence a younger generation of painters in the US in the wake
of WWII when the Guggenheim Foundation (re-)published it. See: Wassily
Kandinsky, On the Spiritual in Art. New York, NY (Solomon R. Guggenheim
Foundation) 3rd printing 1946. -This publication was followed by:
Wassily Kandinsky, Concerning the spiritual in art and painting in particular
1912. New York (Wittenborn, Schultz) 1947, and a French (re-?)edition:
Wassily Kandinsky, Du Spirituel dans l'art et dans la peinture en particulier
Paris (Éd. de Beaune) 1953. See also the role of the
International Committee of the Museum of Modern Art, the role of such museums
in pushing abstract art and marginalizing US and European realist artists,
and the way US government agencies (from the State Dept. to USIS and the
CIA) used funds, connections, and organizational know-how in order to make
this strategy succeed. Cf. Peter Coleman, The Liberal Conspiracy: the Congress
for Cultural Freedom and the Struggle for the Mind of Postwar Europe. New
York (Free Press) and London (Collier Macmillan) 1989; Pierre Grémion,
Intelligence de l'anticommunisme: le Congrès pour la liberté
de la culture à Paris (1950-1975), Paris (Fayard) 1995;
Maria Eugenia Mudrovcic, Mundo nuevo: cultura y guerra fría
en la decada del 60. Rosario (Beatriz Viterbo) 1997; Kristine Vanden Berghe,
Intelectuales y anticomunismo: la revista “Cuadernos brasileiros” (1959-1970).
Leuven (Leuven Univ. Press) 1997; Frances Stonor SAUNDERS, Who Paid the
Piper? The CIA and the Cultural Cold War. London (Granta Books) 2000;
Giles Scott-Smith, The Politics of apolitical culture: The Congress for
Political Freedom, the CIA, and post-war American hegemony. London and
New York (Routledge) 2002; Olga Glondys, La guerra fría cultural
y el exilio republicano español: 'Cuadernos del Congreso por la
Libertad de la Cultura' (1953-1965). Madrid (Consejo Superior de Investigaciones
Cientificas) 2012; and the book reviews by D. Howard, “L'anti-totalitarisme
hier, aujourd'hui et demain: Frances Stonor Saunder, Who Paid the Piper.
The Cultural Cold War, the CIA and the World of Arts and Letters. – Pierre
Gremion, Intelligence de l'anti-communisme. Le Congrès pour la liberté
de la culture à Paris, 1950-1975. – Ulrike Ackermann, Sündenfall
der Intellektuellen. Ein deutsch/französischer Streit von 1945 bis
heute,” in: Critique: revue générale des publications
françaises et étrangères. Issue no.647/2001, pp.259-278.
(7) As Robert Paris notes,
“Les scientifiques mécanistes croyaient certes trouver dans des
relations de cause à effet une continuité définitivement
mortelle pour l’idéologie non fondée sur la matière
physique mais ils ont trop simplifié la relation physique elle-même.”
Robert Paris, “Aux sources des philosophies matérialistes”, in:
http://www.matierevolution.fr/spip.php?article2853
(8) See: Ernst Bloch, Philosophische
Grundfragen. Teil 1: Zur Ontologie des Noch-Nicht-Seins: ein Vortrag und
2 Abhandlungen. Frankfurt am Main (Suhrkamp) 1961; see also: Robert Paris,
“Utopia e scienza nell' immaginario socialista,” in: Il socialismo e la
storia : studi per Stefano Merli / a cura di Luigi Cortesi, Andrea Panaccione;
scritti di Aldo Agosti, Luigi Cortesi, Andrea Panaccione et al. Milano
(F. Angeli) 1998.
(9) In the article I quoted further
above, R. Paris said, “L’opposition entre les matérialismes et les
idéalismes n’est pas une opposition diamétrale mais dialectique
: ils ont besoin l’un de l’autre pour progresser en se combattant.”
He buttressed his position by emphasizing that “[l]e point commun entre
matérialisme et idéalisme consiste à considérer
qu’il y a un seul monde qui englobe à la fois la matière
et les idées et que ce monde obéit à une même
logique globale.” (R. Paris, “Aux sources des philosophies matérialistes”,
ibidem.)
(10) “L’interpénétration
de la matière et des idées est une expérience simple
de tous les jours.” (R. Paris,“Aux sources des philosophies matérialistes”,
ibidem.)
(11) See Ernst Bloch, Avicenna und
die aristotelische Linke, Berlin (Rütten & Loening) 1952.
(12) “In 1921, Rodchenko created
and exhibited three monochrome paintings—one red, one yellow, and one blue
[...]” (Bailey Harberg, “What to do with white?”, in: https://www.clyffordstillmuseum.org/blog/white-paintings.)
When the already renowned Constructivist artist replied in this way
to Malevich's BLACK SQUARE, he was implictly saying that “you can't push
formalist, radically non-representational art any further...” He
was aware of something composers became aware of after John Cage composed
his 4'33'' of silence: There is nothing to be achieved by composing additional
pieces of silence, the concept has been exhausted, the point has been made.
Yes, Rodchenko was right in a way – if painting was understood as an art
form concerned with material, structure, color, then the reductionism implied
in Malevich's thrust toward the empty canvas and the non-color, black,
or in another case, white, could not be carried on any further, a point
zero had been attained. It was, in this sense, not only an avant-gardist
formal achievement but at the same time, the end of painting – even as
an abstract, conceptional undertaking. Rodchenko saw this quite clearly
and Harberg basically confirms this when he interprets the three monochromes
as a polemical “proclamation of painting’s death and the end of bourgeois
art tradition.” (Harberg, ibidem) Interestingly, Malevich himself revealed
an “awareness of the mechanical reproducibility of his trademark Black
Square,” as Tupytsin has pointed out. (Kent Mitchell Minturn, “Seeing
Malevich, Cinematographically,” in: Art Journal, Vol. 63, No. 4, Winter,
2004, p. 142)
(13) Walter Benjamin, Das Kunstwerk
im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit. Frankfurt am Main (Suhrkamp
Verlag) 1963; also: Walter Benjamin, "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical
Reproduction (1936)," in: Neil Badmington (ed.), The Routledge Critical
and Cultural Theory Reader. London (Routledge) 2008, pp.34-56.
(14) I'm referring here to the White
Paintings, especially White Painting (7 panel), White Painting
(3 panel), and White Painting (4 panel).
(15) Šklovskij, ibidem.
(16) Concerning
Rauschenberg's first exhibition of White Paintings, see: Roni Feinstein,
"The Unknown Early Robert Rauschenberg: The Betty Parsons Exhibition of
1951," in: Arts Magazine (New York) 59, no. 5 (Jan. 1985), pp. 126-31.
Regarding the black paintings, see for instance "“ROBERT RAUSCHENBERG:
BLACK FIELDS OF EXPERIMENTATION," in: Stephanie Rosenthal (ed.), Black
Paintings [Exhibition catalogue for the exhibition Black Paintings:
Robert Rauschenberg. Ad Reinhardt. Mark Rothko. Frank Stella, at
the Haus der Kunst Munich]. Ostfildern (Hatje Cantz) 2006. The catalogue
text notes that "[f]rom 1951 to 1953 Rauschenberg created three largely
black group of work, [….]the first, the 'Night Blooming' series,
immediately on returning to Black Mountain College."(p.27) See also: Roni
Feinstein, “The Early Work of Robert Rauschenberg: The White Paintings,
The Black Paintings, and the Elemental Sculptures,” in: Arts Magazine,
Vol. 61, no. 1 (Sept. 1986), pp.28-37; and: Roni Feinstein,
Random Order: The First Fifteen Years of Robert Rauschenberg's Art, 1949–1964.
Ph.D. diss., New York University, 1990.
(17) Malevich, just as – in
a different sense – Rodchenko were imbued with the radicalism that
was virulent at their time, in the context of the society they were part
of.
When, in the late 1940s and early 1950s, North American painters like
Clifford Still and Robert Rauschenberg reverted to Malevich's monochrone
Black Square and his much more complex White Painting, the ideologically
intense atmosphere of the period European artists (and Russian artists,
in particular) experienced between 1914 and 1925 had given way to an “anti-ideological”
climate, the climate that flourishes in the market place, the climate that
sheltered the American Dream of individual freedom, consumerism, and of
“Anything goes...”.
(18) While I prefer to speak here
of seriality, the author who wrote a short introductory piece on Rauschenberg
on the website of the New York Guggenheim Museum refers to Rauschenberg's
“conception of the works as a series of modular shaped geometric canvases,”
thus emphasizing the modular quality at the expense of seriality.
See: N.N., “Robert Rauschenberg”, in: http://pastexhibitions.guggenheim.org/singular_forms/highlights_1a.html.
(19) B.W.Joseph writes that Robert
Rauschenberg urgently entreated his New York gallerist, Betty Parsons,
in 1953 to give him the opportunity to have a second exhibition that year
– featuring the white paintings. “As he explained to Parsons, he considered
his White Paintings 'almost an emergency'.” Branden W. Joseph, “White on
White,” in: Critical Inquiry, Vol. 27, No. 1, Autumn, 2000, p.90.
(20) “In a blatant statement against
the popular Abstract Expressionist movement dominating the NYC art scene
at the time, Rauschenberg exhibited his 1951 White Paintings at Stable
Gallery in 1953.” Harberg, ibidem. - See also his interview with Dorothy
Gees Seckler which reveals that "[i]n the early 1950s Rauschenberg reacted
against the internal subjective musings of the Abstract Expressionists
by asserting his own sensitivity [...]" (Paul F. Fabozzi, Artists,
Critics, Contexts: Readings in and around American Art since 1945.
(Prentice-Hall) 2002, p.68.) The art critic Hubert Crehan suspected that
Rauschenberg was actually attempting to employ dadaist strategies of shocking
bourgeois art viewers, but he thought that dada was dead already and unable
to shock anyone. (Hubert Crehan, "The See Change: Raw Duck," in:
Art Digest (New York) vol.27, no. 20 (Sept, 1953), p. 25.) Roni Feinstein,
who wrote repeatedly on Rauschenberg, thinks, however, that a neo-Dadaist
approach to art had indeed come into play: "That the White Paintings
posed a new definition of art and asserted the continued viability of certain
Dada principles was not recognized until the emergence of Minimal
Art in the mid-1960s. Rauschenberg's paintings can be understood as proto-Minimal
in their removal of the hand of the artist, in their non-color, in their
modular, repetitive, and non-relational structures, and in the manner in
which they were intended to be experienced." (Roni Feinstein, “The Early
Work of Robert Rauschenberg: The White Paintings, The Black Paintings,
and the Elemental Sculptures,” in: Arts Magazine, Vol. 61, no. 1
(Sept. 1986), p.32.)
(21) “Much of Rauschenberg’s practice
was based on the idea that what the artist may or may not have been feeling
is unimportant […].” Vincent Katz, “A Genteel Iconoclasm. Robert
Rauschenberg,” in: http://www.tate.org.uk/context-comment/articles/genteel-iconoclasm.
(22) In Roni Feinstein's view, the
White
Paintings and the Black Paintings were indeed also a reaction
to the influential teacher at Black Mountain College, Josef Albers: "[T]these
works represented Rauschenberg's response to Color Field Painting [...]"
(Roni Feinstein, ibidem, p.37). It is difficult to agree with Feinstein,
however, when she adds that works like White Painting (seven panel)
represented "a moment […] of (relative) discipline and control." Unless,
that is, we give very much emphasis to the word relative. Rauschenberg
obviously reacted to the paradigm offered by Josef Albers' way of working,
which relied very much on control, rigour and discipline. The panels Rauschenberg
did between 1950 and 1953 simply seem less spontaneous and more controlled
than some of his works of the 1960s and 70s. There was nothing faintly
similar to Albers' approach in the way Rauschenberg applied ordinary cheap
white house paint to the canvas, and the way he put together the panels
can only be described as careless and sloppy. It was an act of revolt –
against admired abstract expressionists like De Kooning (insofar as it
implied the rejection of a way of painting interpreted widely as
"self-expression"), but also against the respected teacher.
(23) In fact, the art critic Hubert
Crehan interpreted Rauschenberg's public relations coup as, possibly,
“a tour de force in the realm of personality gesture.” (Hubert Crehan,
ibidem.; also quoted by Roni Feinstein, ibidem, p. 32.)
(24) B.W. Joseph thinks that the
letter to Parsons (“the only statement about the White Paintings
[by RR] that we have from this time”) “reveals Rauschenberg in a state
of transition. It marks the end of what he termed a 'short lived religious
period' […].” B.W.Joseph, ibidem.
(25) Various authors have
noted the close link between Robert Rauschenberg's White Paintings and
the silent piece by John Cage. Cage, however, in contrast to Rauschenberg,
was already “[u]nder the sway of the Buddhist aesthetics of Zen”: “interpret[ing]
the blank surfaces as 'landing strips' or receptors for light and shadow,
[he] […] was inspired to pursue the corresponding notion of silence and
ambient sound in music. His response [was the piece called] 4'33" (1952)
[….]” N.N., “Robert Rauschenberg”, in: http://pastexhibitions.guggenheim.org/singular_forms/highlights_1a.html.
(26) Most critics see Yves Klein's
"IKB 191" (created in 1962) and his other blue monochromes as works that
made him a “pioneer in the development of Minimal art.” (Yves Klein became
famous for patenting his blue - a fact that points to the close connections
of modern art with the art market and the particular "logic" underpinning
commodification.). If we want to speak of pioneers, apart from Malevich
and Rodchenko, we should not forget a number of paintings Barnett Newman
did in the early 1950s, or the fact that Rauschenberg's teacher at the
Black Mountain College, Joseph Albers, started “[i]n 1950, at the
age of 62, [...] what would become his signature series, the Homage
to the Square. Over the next 26 years, until his death in 1976, he produced
hundreds of variations on the basic compositional scheme of three or four
squares set inside each other, with the squares slightly gravitating towards
the bottom edge.” N.N., “Josef Albers. Study for Homage to the Square
1964.
Display caption, December 2012,” in: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/albers-study-for-homage-to-the-square-t02312/text-display-caption.
As to Rauschenberg's innovative introduction of the White Paintings,
it is above all the close look at the works created around 1950
that lets us discover their relative "newness" or novelty. But it is difficult
to agree with a statement which claims that "[i]n the white canvases Rauschenberg
"swept away" the entire history of painting as a preparation for rediscovering
texture and structure [...]" (Stephanie Rosenthal (ed.), Black Paintings,
p.32).
(27) N.N., “Robert Rauschenberg”,
in: http://pastexhibitions.guggenheim.org/singular_forms/highlights_1a.html.
(28) I'm thinking
here also of works done in two colors, like Barnet Newman's Eve
(1950) that introduces a narrow, almost rectangular stripe on the left
margin of a rectangular painting done otherwise in the way of a monochrome
work featuring a subdued, somewhat brownish red. We can feel that the surface
of the painting is carefully "dynamized" by the fact that this narrow geometrical,
comparatively darker, geometrical vertical "ribbon" of brownish violet
is a bit wider on the top than it is is on the bottom of the canvas. But
in fact, the very existence of the "ribbon" suffices already to gently
"dynamize" the reddish, rectangular, otherwise monochrome painting These
nuances were in fact presaging what would become known as Minimalist Art.
But so did the gaps between Rauschenberg's panels in his early White Paintings
and the visible carelessness of his application of house paint. - It is
difficult to speak of meaning when we see such paintings. But seeing Newman's
Eve,
it is as if I hear a warm, serene, radiant song. Poems can be like that,
too.
(29) It's
indeed obvious that you have to look closely in order to get a sense of
how these works are and what "they are about." In an article published
in Mark Amsler's book Creativity and the Imagination, Donald
A. Crosby and Ron G. Williams point out how Rauschenberg was reflecting
"the changes that take place in persons and ultimately in society when
we learn to see with “fresh eyes,” eyes less constrained by habit and preconception.”"
Not only did this artist search for new materials and new ways of incorporating
them in the works he created but he apparently hoped that these works would
trigger a fresh vision. See: Donald A. Crosby and Ron G. Williams,
“Three Case Studies,” in: Mark Amsler (ed.), Creativity and the Imagination:
Case Studies from the Classical Age to the Twentieth Century, Cranbury
NJ (Associated University Presses) 1987, p.212, footnote 44.
(30) Rauschenberg,
during the 1960s, revealed a skepticism that in some way was the heritage
of those US liberal and left-wing writers and artists who became disillusioned
in the late 1940s. In a text titled "The Artist Speaks," he declared,
“We know no better than anyone else how to handle the metaphysics and practice
of worldly power. We know even less, since we have not been in the slightest
involved with it.” (Quoted by Fabozzi, ibidem, p.68) It was a perfect subjectively
valid justification of "apolitical art."
(31) In 1931,
Brecht wrote, “Die Lage wird dadurch so kompliziert, dass weniger denn
je eine einfache "Wiedergabe der Realität" etwas über die Realität
aussagt. Eine Photographie der Krupp-Werke oder der AEG ergibt beinahe
nichts über diese Institute. Die eigentliche Realität ist in
die Funktionale gerutscht. Die Verdinglichung des menschlichen Beziehungen,
also etwa die Fabrik, gibt die letzteren nicht mehr heraus. Es ist also
tatsächlich "etwas aufzubauen", etwas "Künstliches", etwas "Gestelltes".”
(Bertolt Brecht, Gesammelte Werke, Bd. 18: Schriften zur Literatur und
Kunst 1. Frankfurt am Main (Suhrkamp Verlag) 1967, p. 161f.) - As B.W.
Seiler pointed out, it was not only Brecht (among thinkers on the
Left), "der den Realismusbegriff von seinem abbildlichen Sinn wegführt":
apparently under his influence, at least in this respect, Adorno would
later on proceed in the same direction. “[Es ist] Adorno, der den Realismusbegriff
am weitesten ins Nicht-Abbildliche umgedeutet hat. Sein berühmtes
Diktum, der Roman könne nur dann seinem realistischen Erbe treu bleiben,
wenn er auf einen Realismus verzichte, der, "indem er die Fassade reproduziert,
nur dieser bei ihrem Täuschungsgeschäfte hilft", spricht den
Realismus von der Wahrscheinlichkeitstradition nicht nur frei, sondern
verwirft sogar jedes Festhalten an ihr als Täuschung.(49) Nach Adorno
steht das äußere Bild der modernen Gesellschaft in einem so
gegensätzlichen Verhältnis zu ihrem eigentlichen Wesen, daß
schon nur das Berühren ihrer Oberfläche den Zugang zur Wahrheit
versperrt.”(Bernd W. Seiler, "Das Wahrscheinliche und das Wesentliche:
Vom Sinn des Realismus-Begriffs und der Geschichte seiner Verundeutlichung,"
in: Christian Wagenknecht (ed.), Zur Terminologie der Literaturwissenschaft:
Akten des IX. Germanistischen Symposiums der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft,
Würzburg 1986. Stuttgart (Metzler) 1989, p.373-292; online: Bernd
W. Seiler (1999), Die Verundeutlichung des Realismusbegriff, p.387.
http://www.uni-bielefeld.de/lili/personen/seiler/drucke/realismus/verundeutlichung.html)
(32) See
"Editorial," Art in Society, issue 8
http://www.art-in-society.de/AS8/Editorial.html
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