This fall's
Olle Baertling exhibition at Moderna Museet confirmed several things
I had long suspected. Above all, I was struck by the vitality that
Baertling's works still possess today. How contemporary they feel
despite having been painted over forty years ago. Indeed, they seem
more in tune with the times than much of the art I see from artists
working today. There are undoubtedly many reasons for this, but
one factor I feel is the graphically distinct visual expression,
and how the works' formal idiom comes close to the point of intersection
between art and design; a space that has only naturally - given
the society we live in - become one of several arenas for art in
recent years.
Olle Baertling
himself applied his art to "everyday objects" - flags, draperies,
and architecture. I am reluctant to speculate as to how interested
he was in the charged nature of this borderland, presumably he was
more interested in his utopian visionary art achieving the widest
possible dissemination and permeating society. But as a thought
experiment it is nonetheless interesting to see Baertling's open
form - as well as a lot of other avant-garde abstract art - through
a deliberately historyless gaze, and thus allow it to end up in
new and interesting relationships.
But the exhibition
also highlighted the fact that there is another more troublesome
facet to the relationship between art history and design in which
design gravitates toward art rather than the other way around. Here
expressed by the English artist Olivia Plender:
"It is one
of the ironies of the twentieth century that the language of abstraction,
post the (arguable) failure of the avant-garde, has survived in
the world of design and in the appearance of manufactured goods.
The first abstract painters sought to push colour into the realms
of meaning through the link to social revolution or to the spiritual.
But in our pluralistic, post-hierarchical visual culture there
is a striking similarity between modernist painting and contemporary
product design."
When avant-garde
art is hijacked in this way and transformed into innocuous superficiality
in our consumption-driven society, it is completely reasonable,
if not necessary, for an artist to react by doing the reverse. To
throw form back into the realm of art, to an aesthetic space that
is reserved for dreams, ideas and reflections. It is this movement
that lies at the core of Dahlgren's artistic identity. It is this
quality that has led him to portray striped pullovers, to stack
coffee cups, hangers, spools of thread, dartboards, pens, scales,
containers, and with these objects make active reference to artists
like Olle Baertling, Carl Andre, Bridget Riley, Frank Stella, Blinky
Palermo and many others. When art creeps into our daily lives and
becomes object, Jacob Dahlgren resolutely tosses the object back
into art's domain and redirects our gaze. The hope is that this
will also rub off on us and that we can take our way of seeing and
the associations that characterise our gallery visit out with us
and experience the world around us with a heightened sensibility.
Just as Dahlgren himself does in his ongoing photo project Signs
of Abstraction, in which he collects images from everyday situations
that have artistically abstract qualities.
Much has already
been written about Dahlgren's relationship to art history, painting,
sculpture, everyday life, design and an abundance of reference points
have been made explicit between these fields. I would instead like
to devote the remainder of this text to discussing the wheels he
sets in motion when he goes about realising his ideas, and through
simple observations of his process try to capture important aspects
of his artistic expression.
In 2005, I invited
Jacob Dahlgren to exhibit at Malmö Konsthall. We agreed early on
that he would do a big installation that would rise up from the
floor like an urban landscape and take over the space. Colour Reading
and Contexture came to consist of a wide assortment of different
materials. In short, everything we could find with a monochrome
surface, including chocolate bars, bricks, dishcloths, crispbread,
carpets, insulation, books, tiles, glass, plastic crates, and above
all, innumerable painted blocks of wood. Everything was sorted according
to colour and stacked up one on top of the other. The quantity,
the superfluity and repetition were essential for the piece to work.
One dishcloth is simply a dishcloth, and aside from the ontological
issue of what constitutes art, there is nothing particularly interesting
about putting it on display in an exhibition space. But a hundred
arranged dishcloths rob the individual unit of its value. Together
with thousands of other items they became part of a composition;
an object, a sculpture, or perhaps a painting that slowly rose up
from the floor of Malmö Konsthall.
Watching Dahlgren
as he created his work on site was an experience that contributed
to its understanding. How he arranged the colours and materials
in relationship to one another - moved back and forth across the
surface, stacked on more objects, stepped back and scrutinised,
then stacked some more - was surprisingly similar to how a traditional
painter works. While Dahlgren normally seems to try and avoid making
these kinds of deliberate choices by using a single form that is
repeated until it creates its own pattern, it is still obvious -
also in these works - that colour, form, and a feel for the material
are second nature to him.
The work on
Colour Reading and Contexture, however, was not confined
solely to the composition. In the months leading up to the exhibition,
the gallery staff travelled all over southern Sweden collecting
materials from factories, depots, and wholesalers. We set up a special
workshop where volunteers were brought in to help the technicians
cut and paint wooden boards. Those of us lucky enough to have been
involved in the production were left with lasting memories of the
exhibition, and for Dahlgren the process and the concomitant social
relationships form an essential part of his artistic process, to
which we will return in a moment.
All the effort
that had been put into it, could also be seen and felt in the finished
work. The enormous quantity and variety of materials bore witness
to unexpected encounters (when the world of art comes in contact
with the construction industry or a tile factory, surprising scenes
can sometimes be played out) and all the painted surfaces were a
testament to the time that had been invested. The fact is that this
in turn sparked discussions regarding the piece. I cannot say how
many times I listened in on visitors declaring their amazement to
gallery staff at how much effort must have gone into creating the
piece. Much of the conversations also referred to the small discoveries
one makes standing in front of the landscape: how a certain material,
colour, a piece of tile, or perhaps a book can spark a memory of
a time or place, can surprise or amuse. It was clear that the audience
wanted to talk about the piece, share their experiences with others
- in short, Colour Reading and Contexture engaged them.
Interactivity,
openness and a generosity toward those who choose to take part in
one of Jacob Dahlgren's larger projects are characteristic of his
artistic universe. In 2007, for example, he participated in the
Nordic Pavilion at the Venice Biennale with I, The World, Things,
Life - yet another monumental piece that like Colour Reading
and Contexture made use of the entire space. This time it consisted
of a wall that was filled with black and yellow dartboards creating
a huge optical pattern; the visitors to the exhibition then completed
the work by throwing red and green darts at the boards. In 2004,
the performance Signes d'Abstraction was staged at the Gallerian
shopping centre in Stockholm. Over the course of one day, Dahlgren
engaged the help of volunteers whom he dressed up in stripped pullovers
and sent them out to infiltrate the environment. Sometimes individually,
sometimes in small groups creating a constantly changing composition
that everyone there was drawn into - even those who were not wearing
stripes. This little breach of normality instantly raised the level
of perception among the general public. Nobody takes any notice
of one person in stripes, perhaps not even two, but when they see
a third, fourth, fifth… they start to look at their surroundings
in a different, more observant way. Two years later, Jacob Dahlgren
took part in Moderna Museet's Moderna Exhibition with the
work The Wonderful World of Abstraction; an interactive cube
of silk ribbons, each one fastened with a double knot to a steel
grid measuring 6x6 metres that was suspended from the ceiling. If
I remember correctly, that resulted in some 30,000 double knots
with ribbons in 78 different colours. Just as happened in Malmö,
it soon became clear that the technicians would not have enough
time to complete the piece on their own. In order to get it finished
according to plan, volunteers were recruited from the Friends of
Moderna Museet, and for a little over a week a host of people came
to the rescue. Most of them returned day after day, bringing with
them their friends, children and grandchildren. And the closer the
deadline approached, the clearer it became what a profound sense
of responsibility the new members of the team felt for getting the
work finished in time. The Wonderful World of Abstraction became
their work.
Naturally the
whole thing could have been a fiasco. In Malmö, at Gallerian in
Stockholm and at Moderna Museet. But Dahlgren has an amazing ability
to cultivate the social situation, to unite people around an endeavour
and turn his artwork into a common goal. His charisma, curiosity
and creative exuberance - a characteristic aspect of his whole artistic
approach is the steady stream of new works and ideas - rub off on
those around him and inspire them. To my mind, he looks upon this
social experimentation not just as a means to an end, but as an
intrinsic and important part of the work as a whole. Despite the
fact that he has never been included among those typically associated
with the concept of relational aesthetics - nor does he have anything
to gain from yet another label - one could draw parallels to the
socially interactive art movement developed in the mid-nineties.
It could, for example, be compared to Rirkrit Tiravanija, one of
the key artists of the genre, whose most well-known works consist
of cooking food for the visitors to the gallery, thereby creating
social encounters. This is how his agenda and that of relational
aesthetics were described in a press clipping:
"His work
is difficult to categorise and in some ways the term 'visual artist'
does not accurately represent him. As he says, 'it is not what
you see that is important but what takes place between people.'
Tiravanija's works tend to set the stage, to offer an opportunity
or a possibility for interaction and participation. He integrates
the flux of his itinerant life into sedate museum and gallery
spaces, effectively destroying the division between art and life."
That could have
been a description of Dahlgren's work had it not been for the fact
that Dahlgren's social processes have left behind some of the most
visually powerful artworks to have come out of Sweden in recent
years. Another difference is that the concept behind Dahlgren's
work, how we think about it, is by necessity separate from how our
bodies experience and understand it. We cannot, for example, get
a satisfying picture of The Wonderful World of Abstraction
if we have not wandered in among the silk ribbons ourselves. Oddly
enough, I do not feel that way about Tiravanija's social experiments,
which, contrary to his rhetoric, I basically consider to be conceptual
and symbolic.
As we have seen,
direct physical interactivity forms an essential element in several
of Jacob Dahlgren's works. And even if it can only be said to apply
to one category of many in his artistic production, I would still
maintain that his entire oeuvre is built upon a physical relationship
to the visual, to material and to scale. Returning to Colour
Reading and Contexture at Malmö Konsthall, that was not an interactive
work in the literal sense of the word, at least not once we had
completed the installation process. But the work was nevertheless
experienced, and its dimensions perceived through the body. Depending
on your relationship to the piece, you could either see it as enormous
- if you compared it to a painting - or as a miniature, if you mainly
looked upon it as a model of a city. In any case, it was impossible
to get a full view of it from one place; in order to see it you
had to shift your gaze, to walk around the piece and change your
perspective. From a distance the work became one great sea of colour,
but if you moved up close the surfaces and materiality became more
activated than the colours: matte, glossy, rough, smooth, high,
low. Furthermore, Dahlgren deliberately used the many different
everyday objects in the work to play with the visitors' intuitive
understanding of the materials and body memory. Something that Pontus
Kyander noted in a review of the exhibition:
"We know what
a piece of chipboard feels like, and approximately what sort of
a load it can take, we feel the weight of the brick and the springy
elasticity of a sponge, the smooth surface of glass and the brittle
dryness of crispbread. All of this, drawn from our memory of touch,
is mixed together with what we see. Seeing is knowledge; painting
and sculpture are as dependent on what we know, and think we know,
as they are on what we actually experience."
This information
is critical when speaking about Jacob Dahlgren, and can be applied
to all his works. It means that he is constantly leading us into
a personal relationship to his art, which in turn means that it
is impossible to pin down his artistic production simply by describing
it. Through thought and language we can access the conceptual and
social dimensions, but never the sensually phenomenological dimension
- the experience.
That is left
to each one to experience on their own.
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