“I would like the work to be non-work. This means that it would find its way beyond my preconceptions…It is the unknown quantity from which and where I want to go. As a thing, an object, it accedes to its non-logical self. It is something, it is nothing” – Eva Hesse

My entry to jewellery design came from years of trying to decide between Fine Art sculpture, or Jewellery & Metalwork. I have always been influenced by the work of Eva Hesse, her philosophy of creating work which is non-logical and doesn’t make sense just works for me. I adore the way that even though it does not make sense, it speaks to me. The work is nothing, and it speaks of a life of pain and hurt. This is extremely moving. In jewellery I am interested in creating work which is sentimental to the wearer. I feel it is important for someone to use jewellery to express themselves and at the same time refrain from making the work too literal to the point where it would be ruined.

The brief for our second year Wire project stated that we should investigate one artist and immediately my mind went to Eva Hesse – I am able to incorporate the art I love into my jewellery work to make something meaningful to me.

When looking at her drawings I discovered a lot of repetitive circle drawing, which relates directly to a lot of my work. I have been trying to bring together square/rectangular shapes with tiny obsessive circles – yet still remain free with the lines and composition so it is much more expressive.

When we were out in California this August I was finally able to see the incredible wire sculptures of Ruth Asawa (1926-)–by accident. Wandering around the new de Young museum in San Francisco we found them by the elevators.

I first heard of Asawa at Third Avenue Clay, the ceramic studio in Gowanus, Brooklyn where I made small sculptures. I saw her  on the cover of a magazine laying on the table. She was studied at the renown Black Mountain college  with Josef Albers among others. I immediately fell in love with her woven wire pieces with their organic undulations and outer-spacey forms. She was a special find, as besides Nancy Spero (1926-2009, Spero just passed away 0n Oct 18), I knew so few female artists of this generation to be inspire by and who had managed to break through with a language of their own.

The empahasis on the form, with context, background and meaning taking secondary importance.

Was important in putting abstract art where it is; Clement Greenberg, art critic, was said to have said that form was the purest art of all, it gave huge oppurtunities to the American painters but unfortunately made sculpture a bit of a second class citizen.

Plato was seen to have started formalism, he saw work as a combination of forms (elements) which make an imitation to real life.

Clive Bell -aesthetician of formalism and a member of the Bloomsbury Group

Formalism is the idea that everything that is needed is in the piece of artwork, prior knowledge of context is irrelevant to the artwork. I see formalism as a crucial part to minmalism. Many of Sol Lewitt’s works are what I consider to be formalism, but Donald Judd, Eva Hesse and Dan Flavin. However it is seen that formalism was around much earlier, maybe emerging after the confusion of Impressionism. Paul Cezanne can be seen to be a formalist, painting with vivid brushstrokes which were interesting to view. Him and the other post-impressionists sort of developed into formalism. The Bloomsbury Group in England organised an exhibit of the works of post impressionists and Manet and essentially introduced Britain to what was happening across the channel. I see this as quite a crucial point in the development of British Art.

Donald Judd

Eva Hesse

Dan Flavin

Sol Lewitt

Also I really liked this one, kinda reminds me of Matt’s piece where he discussed the art of road painting

"Minimalism is born from a lack of passion for the things we do"

So I’m happy with that, makes me feel a little better about art in general.

“The artist who did the most to humanize Minimalism without sentimentalizing it was Eva Hesse. Dying of brain cancer at thirty-four, an age at which most artist’s careers are barely under way, she left a truncated body of work but one of remarkable power: an instrument of feeling that spoke of an inner life, sometimes fraught with anxiety…
“Spurred by the examples of Joseph Beuys, Claes Oldenburg, and Jean Dubuffet, Hesse grew more and more interested in what usually didn’t pertain to sculpture. Backing away from its ‘male’ rigidity, which included the high-style rhetoric of Minimalism, she allowed her fascination with the ‘female’ and the inward, including what was grotesque and pathetic, to enlarge. The phallic mockery in Hesse’s work can be comically obscene: black salamis wound with string, slumping cylinders of fiberglass. Even when it looks entirely abstract, her work refers to bodily functions. Hang Up, 1965-66, looks at first like a query about illusion and reality – the big rectangular frame hanging on the wall with no picture in it, but with a loop of steel tube spilling onto the gallery floor and connecting the frame’s top left to its bottom right corner. But again, there’s a fleshy metaphor. Both tube and frame are wrapped in cloth, like bandaged parts of a patient, and the tube might be circulating some kind of fluid. Blood? Lymph? Fantasies? Even in absence, the body is somehow there, as an ironically suffering presence; the title phrase, ‘Hang-Up,’ means both what you do to pictures and (in ’sixties slang) a mental block, a neurosis.
“However, Hesse wasn’t an art martyr and her images are very much more than mere enactments of illness or oppression. They reflect on identity, sometimes with wry wit or an angry fatalism; but to see Hesse as a precursor of ‘victim art’ does her a disservice. She never wanted to see her work smugly categorized as ‘women’s art.’ Quite the contrary; Hesse wanted it to join the general discourse of modern images, uncramped by niches of gender or race. ‘The best way to beat discrimination in art is by art,’ she brusquely replied to a list of questions a journalist sent her. ‘Excellence has no sex.’ Very old-fashioned of her, by today’s standards of cultural complaint.”

Source: Artchive.com

Robert Rauschenberg,

Erased de Kooning Drawing, 1953

I really like the idea of this piece, there’s a great video on youtube with RR talking about the art and his experience behind it. A lot of people saw this as an act of attention but I believe it to be a very interesting work. It is as if he has erased a part of art history. This is I think quite similar to my own work with the elimination of the flies “work” and the appreciation we have for it. I will delete the existence of the flies attempts after spending so long recording its details and path. However I should not have control of the way its deleted, similar to the way the fly has no control over when it is released.

One idea is to create a self erasing pen, using the whiteboard and pen for whiteboards, I could attach an eraser to the back of the pen so that after i draw the line, it is quickly erased. In order to make it unclear as to when the line is going to be cleared. Maybe to make it impossible for me to determine the erasing, I could ask an external source to continuously erase my work, or even use chance (maybe roll a dice or flip a coin). The idea of brushing off the art by accidental means, maybe making the viewers destroy it? This way I have no control over who destroys it, or when it is destroyed. It may be destroyed in packaging to the gallery, this is an essential part to the piece. The fragility is similar to Eva Hesse’s pieces, which are very very fragile and have to be transported in hugely insulated cases. One of her works, a precursor to “contingent” is in the Fruitmarket Gallery at the moment.

After talking to the invigilator of the gallery about the method of transportation of the piece, it was interesting to find out that the piece had to be continually hung as to avoid it getting smashed. It was then bubblewrapped and kept in the safest of conditions. Although I really didn’t like the Hesse exhibition I found this very interesting. And also learned of how to apply for jobs there hooray.

I think I’ll go on to experimenting with whiteboard drawings, of chalkboard drawings where the art can easily be destroyed. Maybe placing the work out of the gallery so to avoid it being confused with art and have less respect gained for it.

Dear Eva,

You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder, wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, gasping, confusing, itching, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, rumbling, rambling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding grinding grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!

From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and your ability, the work you are doing sounds very good. ‘Drawing — clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger, bolder, real nonsense.’ That sounds wonderful — real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever — make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your ‘weird humor.’ You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you — draw and paint your fear and anxiety.  And stop worrying about big, deep things such as ‘to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistent approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end.’ You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO! [The DO's are drawn and decorated and very large.] I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work. The worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell.  You are not responsible for the world — you are only responsible for your work, so do it. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be.  But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO.

It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty your mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.

I would like to see your work and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen photos of some of Tom’s new things at Lucy’s. They are impressive – especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I guess he’ll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going and that kind of stuff.

My work had changed since you left and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there. Much love to you both.

Sol

[Letter from Sol Lewitt to Eva Hesse, April 14, 1965.]

Eva Hesse. She’s one of those artists in the Influencer Pantheon who just keeps giving. Her work lights up my dashboard again and again. And how I wish I were going to be in Edinburgh in October rather than November—50 works by Hess, never before seen in public, are being featured in a show as part of the Edinburgh festival. It runs through October 25.

Here is an overview from Laura Cumming in the Guardian:

When the New York Times famously announced that Hesse was “at the outset of a brilliant career” in 1970, its prediction was shockingly mistaken. Not because she had already established herself as a great sculptor by the age of 34, but because she had recently died of cancer.

To speak of these sub-objects (as they are described in the superb catalogue) as vessels is to miss out all sorts of other nuances of shape. And that’s the joy of it – Hesse hits just beyond verbalisation. It is part of her gift to evade analogy and association and make things so eccentric and awkward they look like nothing else, or nothing else before them. For sculptors have been trying to emulate Hesse ever since.

Eva Hesse Studiowork, 1968, Courtesy of University of California, Berkeley Art Museum & Pacific Film Archive. Photograph: Abby Robinson/Courtesy of the Fruitmarket Gallery, Edinburgh

Peter Doig. 'Camp Forestia', 1996. Courtesy of MoMA.

In Spring of 2007, I spoke briefly with MoMA curator Christian Rattemeyer about a project he had undertaken, namely selecting about 300 drawings from the 2,500 that had been gifted to the museum by the Rothschild Foundation that he felt best represented contemporary drawing in its entirety. At the time, Rattemeyer seemed bogged down with this enormous responsibility. Wouldn’t you be? In the end, he has put together an exhibition consisting of a handful of wonderful drawings and many lesser ones, which speaks to the gifted collection as a whole, which in turn reflects–as the foundation had hoped to–contemporary drawing on the exhibition circuit over the past 50 years.

But there are very few surprises here. One would have hoped that with a blank check and the Museum of Modern Art’s endorsement, Gary Garrels and Harvey S. Shipley Miller– who amassed this collection in the name of the Rothschild Foundation over the course of just two years–would have located the best available drawings instead of leaving us with an open-ended haystack of contemporary works on paper, many of which are in fact paintings, object art and installations that don’t even resemble drawings. In this sense, Garrels’ and Miller’s shopping spree falls short of its mark. That being said, some of the works that Rattemeyer has chosen to represent drawing in order to counterbalance the majority of works presented as unnecessary alternatives to drawing are significant additions to the museum’s collection.

In acquiring so many works so quickly, Garrels and Miller naturally became denizens of commercial galleries in the international art capitals. Thus the artists whose work is available at those galleries are given ample wall space. Peter Doig, a popular and promising draughtsman and painter, is represented by two pastel drawings and an oil work on paper. Camp Forestia (1996) depicts a house—all off-whites and primary reds—before the shock of a bright pink lake where one of Doig’s signature canoes floats along. Using the strengths of his medium—in this case, pastels—Doig does not try for any detailed precision in his treatment of these subjects, but opts instead for sudden surprises within a mostly muted palate. On the other end the spectrum, Mark Grotjahn, whose “butterfly” series has spanned the last ten years, is represented by four such works, two-tone drawings in colored pencil receding to two points of perspective, and an untitled work (2000-2001) in which the artist has covered up a dark blue form with hundreds of bright yellow dots, like bees swarming a hive. This last drawing is a testament to Grotjahn’s talent for crafting captivating imagery, including his elegant butterfly forms. But ten years of butterflies is enough.

An abstract drawing by Eva Hesse represents an important moment in contemporary art, when she and other New York artists opened their processes to spontaneity and chance, defying their minimalist colleagues. Several small black and white forms are scattered throughout a colorful, cut-and-pasted landscape. Considering that the vast majority of Hesse’s works on paper are plans for her sculptures and installations, the curators have acquired a prize in this drawing from 1963, which bursts with more color than anything shown at the 2006 survey of her works on paper at The Drawing Center.

Some of the most compelling works in the exhibition come from beyond Europe and the States. Yun Fei-Ji, a Chinese artist born in 1963, is represented by an autumn landscape inhabited by walking skeletons and others hovering between life and death. Anything man-made here—and the waking dead themselves—are rendered in faint off-whites and grays, whereas the natural landscape is composed of deep green and auburn inks and watercolors. Ji’s works are embedded in Chinese art history, but always contain a political twist. The inclusion of this draughtsman’s work was one of several smart decisions overshadowed by this collection’s open-endedness. New Yorkers can look forward to seeing what the Modern continues to do with this unprecedented gift, and will have to decide for themselves which among these works belong in the museum that has promised to exhibit the works of art most relevant to our time, not all of the works of art it is offered.

–Alexander Wolf

A fantastic July 4th weekend has left me sunburnt, voiceless (as in, I literally lost my voice– probably from singing along to the “Thriller” album…twice) and helplessly behind in my art reading…but this gem caught my eye:

Slate posted a fascinating article by Sam Kean that describes the plight of museum curators in fighting the odorous disintegration of artworks executed decades ago in the medium of plastic, thought then to have a generations-long lifespan.  The essay outlines the creation of new plastic products, too, that are meant to be bio-degradable and are finding their way in contemporary artists’ toolkits.

A Naum Gabo sculpture housed at the Philadelphia Museum of Art is described as looking like “Tupperware that had gone through the dishwasher too often” and other decomposing pieces are said to range in smells from “burnt hair” to “rasberry jam.”

Clearly, this is a serious issue for institutions seeking to record our cultural history; just a few of the noteworthy artists who have worked or currently work in instrinsically-unstable plastics include Eva Hesse, Duane Hanson (see pictured above), Matthew Barney and Jeff Koons.  I guess it makes sense, then, that much of the money going into research for new curatorial techniques and solutions to this problem comes from insurance companies responsible for museums’ holdings.

I wanted to say “those plastic sculptures are sweating like a whore in church” in this posting, but just couldn’t find the right moment.

Thanks to Meg (who is diligently studying for the Bar exam in Cleveland– emerge soon!) for the tip.

Dutes Miller’s installation The Ecstasyist is filled with penises – and other images related to the male body and its accoutrements – but mostly just penises. Sculptures of condoms, hanging and drooping in an Eva Hesse-style, hover mid-air while messy collages and drawings, sometimes framed, sometimes not, fill the walls. Although not cluttered, the word “full” is probably the most apt way to describe the use of space where every corner of the gallery has been used to exhibit a different aspect of Miller’s working practice in a different exhibition style, from the presentation of his untitled series of amorphic bodies in a never-ending circle, to the rigorous seriality of his framed untitled collages of cut-up nude male models.

I am reminded of a quotation, one loosely rememberd, by the blogger/curator of I Heart Photograph, that there were times when she would post images to her website that she really liked, but once she saw them in person at an exhibition, her reaction completely changed – a problem of online curating once you reach out to the challenges of “real” life spaces.  Miller’s work seems more DIY in person than online, but the Ecstasyist, whomever he is, cannot make up his mind. His influences are numerous, from dabbling in Surrealist collage to Mapplethorpe’s renditions of the male body (however, Miller’s are rendered far less classic and glamorous than the late artist). The Ecstasyist is schizophrenic about the treatment of his images – should he let the original text of the his cut up magazines show through in his collages and let dried glue ripple the paper, should he frame his works?

This frenzy of sources and styles confused and dissatisfied my friend who attended the opening with me, however I don’t care whether or not an artist is original. The works in this exhibition that contained the most prescient understanding of the installation as a whole are those small, circular collages of bodies that, without eyes or faces, still contain the source of desire, the sexual organs and the soft skin that contains it, yet the shape of desire is difficult to define, existing in various intensities without a constant goal. Unfulfilled desire is what drives the Ecstasyist, but the source of Miller’s uneven treatment of desire, materials, and source, was not identified in the exhibition, left dubious and unfulfilled, like the exhibition’s imagined creator.

Works by renowned American artists Louise Bourgeois and Eva Hesse will be shown at the Warsaw Museum of Modern Art as part of its latest exhibition, Awkward Objects: Alina Szapocznikow,  Maria Bartuszova, Pauline Boty, Louise Bourgeois, Eva Hesse and Paulina Ołowska.  “Awkward Objects” debuts TODAY, May 14 and will continue until July 6.  This presentation juxtaposes pieces by Bourgeois, Hesse, Boty, and Bartuszova and Szapocznikow to show how these female artist-pioneers – as they experimented with material, with its form and expression, often including pre-feminist motifs – sought recognition from the artistic mainstream of their time.  They now have become a major focal point of interest for new art history.

In conjunction with this exhibition, the Warsaw MoMA will host an international conference devoted to the work of Polish sculptress Alina Szapocznikow on May 15-16.  The conference will be a forum for renowned art historians, critics and artists from Europe and the U.S. to add new aspects to interpretation of Alina Szapocznikow’s work in the international context.  It aims at combining multi-faced insights into the artist’s diverse work and her importance in the global context. 

The U.S. Embassy is a proud sponsor of the exhibition and the conference.

M and I were talking about this, so he sent me a copy of it. I thought I’d put it here, because it’s good advice:

Dear Eva,

It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!

From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good “Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!

I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working – then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!

It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.

I would like to see your work and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen photos of some of Tom’s new things at Lucy’s. They are impressive – especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I guess he’ll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going and that kind of stuff.

My work had changed since you left and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there. Much love to you both.

Sol

The Los Angeles Hammer Museum is a place of charm and learning, located at 10899 Wilshire and open from 11 am to 7 pm, Tues-Wed-Fri-Sat.  On Thurs, 11 to 9, and on Sun 11 to 5.  “ORANGES AND SARDINES” is all about abstract painting, on view until February 8th, 2009 where art is examined through the eyes and minds of artists.  In this exhibition six contemporary abstract painters— Mark Grotjahn, Wade Guyton, Mary Heilmann, Amy Sillman, Charline von Heyl, and Christopher Wool— were asked to select one or two of their recent paintings to be shown alongside works by other artists who have had a significant impact on their thinking and the development of their practice. The show, on view at the Hammer from November 9, 2008 through February 8, 2009, is comprised of six separate rooms presenting each artist’s selection in a constellation of diverse works by artists including Paul Klee, Felix Gonzales-Torres, Francis Bacon, David Hockney, Willem de Kooning, Philip Guston, Eva Hesse, Pablo Picasso, and Dieter Roth, as well as artists less well-known to the public. Many works in the exhibition are drawn from major museums and galleries across the United States and Europe, and a number of paintings are borrowed from private collections, some of which have rarely been on public display.  I’d like to know what kind of forces have influenced these artists.  The gallery is installed coloristactly– yes that is really a word!

Dieter Roth–>  Eva Hesse–>

Philip Guston–>   Willem de Kooning–>

David Hockney–> Felix Gonzales-Torres–>

“By asking artists to share their influences and inspirations with us, Oranges and Sardines reflects an ongoing commitment of the Hammer Museum to produce artist-driven exhibitions. What we can learn from artists about their influences is often revelatory and we are delighted to be able to gather such an extraordinary group of masters of the 20 the century for this unusual exhibition,” said Hammer Museum Director Ann Philbin.

Atlantic, like waves in your favourite colour / kindling pathetic objects too right / and too beautiful miles from everybody else / not that you minded / your name understandable and understood —
In Jerusalem / praying in the shade of a convent’s clay-cylinder eaves / in November / an angel / sunshine dripping from her open wings
not for architecture or sun / but for making-good the clay before winter set in; / punning her own vision, / if anything.

An amateurish photograph of a girl with a touching look,
shame and determination making her special;
her expression determined
and anything else if it will help. All we can do now is hope.
If the opportunity arises there is an address
but for now, this is remote.

Eva Hesse, 1969
Photo Credit: Herbert Landshoff in, ‘Eva Hesse’ by Lucy Lippard. New York University Press, 1976. ISBN 0-8147-4972-0

My painting, Post-Expressionist Scream, Acrylic on Canvas.

I’ve been getting very little sleep lately. I seem to be waking up around two in the morning and my brain starts swimming. Not in a bad way though. I feel very inspired. I’ve been listening to a lot of Coltrane and Miles Davis lately. Been thinking about artistic genres, specifically expressionism, minimalism and their neo evolutions. How they react to one another. Artistic yin and yang. How expressionism is based on raw emotion and decipherable, often violent abstract forms; while minimalism relies on structure and repetition to communicate its messages. Coltrane’s later works are considered expressionistic, based on their atonal and modal qualities. I find it interesting that expressionists are often considered spiritually oriented. Though I definitely consider my art to be expressionistic, or neo-expressionistic, I’ve been thinking much about the intersection of both. I call it expressionistic minimalism.

I was talking with my friend, Mike, the other day about his best friend, an undertaker. I was asking where his friend gets his depth, because the guy is obviously a deep thinker and unique being. I don’t know him personally, but gather it well from the stories Mike tells. The way it plays is this guy, having the opportunity to see people in their perhaps most vulnerable state—death—he’s able to connect backwards with their lives. He is their final escort from this chapter. He is the ascender. Or, at least, the ascension attender. Being in this family business for five generations, I imagine the depth that comes from pondering life and death is culturally familial to him.

Ascension is concept well loved by both expressionists and minimalists. One of Coltrane’s most revered works is titled Ascension, as is one of the most revered works by minimalist sculptor, Eva Hesse. Mike just introduced me to Hesse the other day, the same day we spoke about his best friend the undertaker. Another artist, a favorite of mine, Jonathan Borofsky, is well know for two outdoor installations entitled “Ascending Man,” and “Ascending Woman.” These installations feature a man figure and a woman figure, respectively, appearing to walk a tight rope (wire?) that seems to be extending up past the tops of tall buildings to the heavens.

I definitely would call Borofsky an expressionistic minimalist. After throwing my conversation with Mike the other day into my internal blender, I’ve been thinking about “cutting apart” some of my previous expressionistic paintings, perhaps as an undertaker would, revealing the life from which it came, and repainting them as individual elements, each on its own canvas. Maybe I’ll repeat some of these shapes over and over in a structured form in order to give birth to my own expressionistic minimalism.

My painting, Stomach, Acrylic on Canvas.

Eine bescheidene Unterkunft am Meer, in der T.S. Eliot einige seiner berühmtesten Zeilen schrieb, soll gerettet werden. Persönlichkeiten wie der frühere poet laureate Andrew Motion und die Witwe des Dichters, Valerie Eliot, unterstützen entsprechende Bemühungen. Insbesondere folgende Zeilen aus The Waste Land verweisen auf den Ort:
‘On Margate Sands.
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
My people humble people who expect
Nothing.’

La la

To Carthage then I came

In der Übersetzung Norbert Hummelts:
‘In Margate Sands
Ich kriege nichts
Mit nichts zusammen.
Die Nägel kaputt, die Hände schmutzig.
Mein Völkchen, armes Völkchen, das mit nichts mehr
Rechnet.’
la la

So kam ich nach Karthago

[Eva Hesse übersetzt: "Im Seebad von Margate / Will sich mir nichts zu nichts / Verbinden." Aus zwei Gründen ziehe ich diese Fassung vor: erstens braucht sie nicht die unnötige Verdrehung der Satzstellung durch Voranstellung des Ich bei Hummelt, und zweitens stört das umgangssprachliche "zusammenkriegen" für connect. Das scheint mir Verbindungen zu stören. Warum nicht einfach "In Margate Sands / Verbindet sich mir / Nichts mit nichts"? So bliebe der Assoziationsraum von "connect", verbinden, ebenso erhalten wie die Einheit "nichts mit nichts". Angelika Janz formuliert es in einem klassischen Fragmenttext, hier in Abschriftfassung, so: "Sofokles kann jederzeit Fontane benachrichtigen". Got me?]
/ The Observer 12.7.

Hier der Fragmenttext von Angelika Janz:

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