An
essay kindly contributed by Allen Solomons:
THINGS
OR NOT THINGS
Once upon a time, not all that long ago, the object-value of art was
a thing that was central to much critical debate. At the high water-mark
of minimalism, sometime in the sixties, it might have been assumed
that object-value had become the defining aspect of art itself- as
unshakable as all of the monochromes, the mute glass and steel and
paint filling the galleries and public spaces of the period. And then,
suddenly, the critical mass of objects was reached, and then, with
nuclear speed, they were gone. The overpressure of dematerialisation
swept both objects and the very debate itself surrounding them away
into the ether. So complete was the change, then in 1994, Andrew Benjamin
noted that "Today the question of the art object seems a distant
concern". And, yet, as time passes, the half-life of the art
object seems longer than anyone might have imagined in 1968.
The notion presented above is, of course, a simplified one. What is
hard to deny, however, is the fact that an almost paradigmatic shift
in the debate surrounding art did occur through the late sixties and
early seventies - one that underlies many current attitudes. However,
with further investigation, it becomes possible to see that the "objecthood"
of art is a more slippery and contentious thing than it might, at
first glance appear.
Nobody
Knows
Minimalism provides a useful starting point for this investigation
because of the way minimalist art put the object at its very core.
The critic of an earlier generation found this a disconcerting tendency.
Michael Fried's 1967 essay "Art and Objecthood" - a sort
of rearguard action against the likes of Robert Morris - is very specifically
critical: "the literalist espousal of objecthood amounts to nothing
other than a plea for a new genre of theatre; and theatre is now the
negation of art." While Fried's critique does have a feeling
of futility, in his recognition of the "theatricality" of
minimalism, he hits on a vital point. The way in which minimalism
operates is one that "takes relationships out of the work and
makes them a function of space, light, and the viewer's field of vision."
(Robert Morris) Thus the pieces, in asserting their objecthood, begin
to operate not internally but, instead, resonate with those things
and even those people around them. The process that occurs is one
that is akin to theatre - but rather than being the weakening force
that Fried sees it as, this "theatricality" seems to me
to be a stressing of the unavoidable object value of art. Fried desires
art that is self contained and self important, while minimalism lays
bear its own spatial interaction with its audience. A useful parallel
here can be found in the aesthetics of Brecht and his conception of
the "epic theatre". Brecht's conception of a form of theatre
that is strongly anti-illusory is not unlike the naked objecthood
of high minimalism. This attitude is also clearly visible in the conceptual
successors of minimalism - Brecht's declaration "Petroleum resists
the five act form" is at the heart of it - but is almost equally
relevant to the realm of the conceptual artists of the 60's - in the
politically charged arena of the 60's/70's art world it was probably
true that Vietnam also resisted five-act resolution.
All
of this provides us with a partial view of what the "art-object"
might be. Yet, as Andrew Benjamin's comments suggest, after this point
the idea of "object" seems to slip from view as though,
having dematerialised, it could not longer be of any interest. We
are left in 1970 with a dichotomy - Fried's Greenburgian desire for
self-contained art in opposition to the minimalist/conceptualist view
of art as part of its physical or intellectual surroundings. Yet there
is something profoundly unsatisfying with the way in which the debate
has fallen into morbidity- like Mathew Collings on formalism, when
we consider what the art-object is in a contemporary setting, we are
forced to conclude "What is it anyway? Nobody knows."
Please
Tell Me Your Personal Code
In an attempt to get beyond this deadlock, it is useful to consider
the work of Peter Halley - an artist who seems to lie right in the
middle of the "nobody knows, nobody cares" attitude of the
post-conceptual art object. Halley is an artist of many contradictions
- the theory-boy reading Baudrillard and Foucault whilst painting
big dumb paintings which seem more related to Greenburgian high formalism
that to the art of 1981. Everything about Halley's position seems
designed to deny the "object-value" of the work. Much of
the context for this is provided by Halley himself, as he provides
commentaries which continually encourage the viewer to see the work
as signs, as a kind of brightly coloured text. Ultimately, Halley's
painting stands in a new space for geometric, abstract art - in a
world of language and symbol, rather than in the silent, speechless
land of formal arrangement.
Despite the vigour with which this reading of Halley is put forward,
we are not really getting the whole story. Halley's presentation of
his work, using an installation approach which declares "we've
reached a state where the exhibition has become the integer of meaning"
has the result of silently stressing the physicality of the work itself.
(Indeed, if Halley's work had no interest in object-value of some
sort then, would they need to be painted? Could they not just be printed
or shown on a screen?) Moreover, given Halley's own theoretical knowledge,
it is hard to escape the feeling that there is a sort of wry humour
in his attempts to pin down his work through his almost 19th century
novelish authorial "interjections". Halley's work seems
to show us how object-value remains a central part of art itself -
but one that flickers in and out of being as the conceptual side of
the work comes in and out of focus.
A
Thing To Describe A Feeling
So where does all of this leave the object - what is its contemporary
position? This question is not easily resolvable. WJT Mitchell's Picture
Theory, provides a useful starting point, recognising as it does,
that part of the problem lies in the lack of a truly appropriate way
of discussing or theorizing the visual itself. As he notes: "Although
we have thousands of words about pictures, we do not yet have a satisfactory
theory of them" The problems encountered with the object-value
of Peter Halley's work have their foundation in this problem. Ultimately,
it is my feeling that the "object-value" of a work might
also be described as its visual content. Damien Hirst's description
of the shark used in The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind
of Someone Living as "a thing to describe a feeling" is
an interesting one. It recalls Peter Halley in the way it suggests
that the work may be constructed as a symbol, a signifier for something
else. It goes further than this, though, in the suggestion that an
object or image may function in a way that suggests a particular type
of descriptive discourse. This is not to suggest some sort of associative
realism - rather it recognises the underlying way in which meanings
may be produced by an object and its position in interweaving social,
economic, or theoretical circuits. Hirst's statement, though rather
expressionist in tone, recognises the thing at the heart of this process.
Indeed, as we can see from conceptualism, even if this thing is an
empty space, that space becomes objectified by those things that are
contiguous with the empty space.
In a contemporary context, we become fully aware of the complexity
of the art-object. It is not the truth-to-materials of Stella and
keeping it "as good as it was in the can". Nor is it the
empty "theatrics" that Fried saw displacing the self-contained,
almost subjective art that he desired. Rather, it is possible to view
the "objecthood" of art as a vital part of its visuality-
a visuality that is dangerously uncertain from a verbal point of view.
As Mitchell suggests, there is along history of attempting to bring
images under the domination of the verbal realm; but ultimately it
is the visual nature of images that continues to push them outside
this cage. This is perhaps at the heart of the way in which art-objects
are often portrayed as dangerous things - their unsubvertible "objecthood"
means that they continue to escape the verbal structures of any theory
that seeks to describe them. If we consider the work of artists today,
again and again it is this - the slipperiness of objects and objecthood
itself that renders them as powerful, and purposeful and uneasy things.
Back
to Top