Tue Greenfort
»A Mountain Story«
Kunstraum Dornbirn
September 14 – November 4, 2012
This exhibition of the Danish artist brings together a series of stories on the production of art and culture, on ecology and economics, and links them with questions about (meanwhile) watered-down categories such as sustainability and the concept of nature, thus weaving them into a filigree web of overlapping themes and figurations. His formal starting point is the history and locality of Kunstraum Dornbirn, which he invests with a new spatial structure.
A structure that was formerly a factory assembly hall. Built in 1893, it had the purpose of simplifying the work process and also rationalizing it. A motivating economic force that is today mentioned in one breath with the loss of workplaces, but has an aspect that parallels ecology. Namely, here too, the issue is about applying resources sparingly, exactly like the dome that the artist has placed in the room. The seemingly contrasting motives behind economics and ecology team up here, but also raise questions. Just as does the exhibition title as well as the works assembled under its mantle.
When you reach a mountaintop, have you conquered nature or had a nature experience? What does the history of mountain climbing have to do with ecology, hippie dreams and dystopias? How can we confront the excesses of capitalism? By a do-it-yourself culture? Where does the (hi)story of ecology stop and the (hi)stories of rationalism begin? Can nature only be understood within a culture? How do you undermine boredom in contemporary art? What would Buckminster Fuller say? By way of a geodesic dome? And is this dome larger than a sculpture? Is it architecture or an artistic intervention?
Greenfort throws questions into the ring instead of providing answers and leaves it to viewers to come to their own conclusions. He hereby calls the institutional norms of contemporary art in question, likewise the function of art per se and the prerogative of interpretation that is linked to it. This is not about showing something true, good or beautiful, and certainly not at all about the visitor having to believe, or go along with, something. Rather the artist is interested in the democratization of a cognitive process, and thus concerns the emancipation of the viewer who must naturally also learn to deal with this.
Greenfort doesn’t see himself so much as an artist but more as a person who sets processes in motion and triggers reflection, deliberation, cerebration. As to the dome on view, it is also not clear how it should be defined. Is it an artwork by Tue Greenfort or architecture by Buckminster Fuller? In any case Greenfort has placed it in the room, and the question gets posed as to whether it is important that something be declared art or whether it’s not sufficient that, beginning from there, we can think about objects.
As already briefly mentioned, the dome was built from Richard Buckminster Fuller’s plans. He exhibited a 62m-high version of the building called a “geodesic dome” in 1967 at the World’s Fair in Montreal and quickly became famous. And not just because of its spectacular appearance, but for the idea behind it. He was concerned to produce the best possible functional structure with the least resources (the concept of synergetics and its effect originated with him); e.g., the exterior surface of the dome is 40 % smaller than a building with the same square base would need. The geodesic form was quickly taken up by hippies who began to build their own domes from castoff materials.
Here Greenfort uses sheets of tarpaulin such as the kind from construction sites, including the advertisements printed on them. Similar to the idea of the Friday bags, this tarpaulin is recycled and reused as covering; ads can be seen on the outside that however no longer animate us to consume and then throw away, but at the most to shield us from rain.
Now what does this have to do with climbing mountains? Recreation in nature was already in fashion in the early 19th century; the Austrian Alpine Club was founded in 1862. In a continuation, an increase in expeditions to higher regions took place, such as the Himalayas, where contact was made with the local mountain people. Cultures in barren regions are characterized by an extremely sparse and efficient lifestyle. This perception, among other things, led to the fact that alpinists in the 20th century were not just engaged in conquering the mountains but began to think not only about how to leave nature untouched, but also how to conserve it. The eco movement built on this, and naturally the hippies who recreated Buckminster Fuller’s domes.
Another model can be seen in front of the dome, also by Tue Greenfort, this time following a lightweight tent construction by Frei Otto from 1957. The point also with Tent (2007) is to produce functional architecture that conjures room for people out of advertising tarpaulin by means of a pair of poles, ropes and castoff material.
Also to be seen – but more to be heard – is the sound installation Audio System (2011), for which microphones have been installed inside and outside the Kunstraum. The signals are routed through a computer, which superimposes an audio filter and directs the signals per random generator back into the room where the different sounds are woven into a soundscape. Nature and people are brought into the room acoustically, which is otherwise more likely dominated by reverent silence.
Also with the work Conservation (2011) the artist allows the antithesis between nature and museum to cross swords. Normally the museum tries to safeguard and preserve the exhibited objects. The staff wants to get rid of woodworm and similar vermin. Wood, which is actually a living material, is deadened and made ready for eternity. Quite in contrary to the wood Greenfort uses, which is kept under a glass dome and inhabited by wood beetles, wood whose sheltered disintegration we can practically watch. At one time or other, only a pile of sawdust will remain under the glass. The issue here is time and the naturalness of transience, which also suggests a formal analogue to the hourglass. Whereby it is also not quite clear if the Kunstraum is in this way protected from the wood beetles or the beetles from the visitors.
The work Untitled (2010) is likewise a memento mori, but even more a discrete omen. From a bottle, 10 liters of alcohol can be withdrawn in small dosages and burnt in a bowl meant for this purpose. Ten liters: that is an Austrian’s average annual consumption. And the beaker with which the alcohol is poured allows us to realize that one needs 1,800 kilocalories daily in order to live, which corresponds to 15.7 cl. of alcohol. Many people, for instance in the third world, do not have this amount of sustenance at their disposal.
With this exhibition, Tue Greenfort has not only assembled items, but tried to create a structure. The objects should not be seen as art, but as a process. This is a project that is borne by many minds, not by individuality. Whether these be the historical positions, the coworkers, theorists and philosophers that have contributed their part to the way the exhibition looks or the visitors themselves: it is about the many stories – also the visitors’ personal ones – that generate the interaction. And thus creates a consciousness of the fact that one is part of a tradition and a (hi)story. And the exhibition not only revolves around history and stories, but attempts to be a narration, a process in itself: an open, at times chaotic but dynamic entity, without an abrupt beginning or end.
Martin Walde
»From Moment to Moment«
Kunstraum Dornbirn, Austria
April 11 — June 2, 2013
What immediately strikes you as you enter Kunstraum Dornbirn is an enormous funnel. It is black and hangs from the ceiling, tapers off towards the bottom, where its opening points to a small plate. And this plate stands on another construction that dominates the room: a platform that takes up a large part of the exhibition floor. It is just as high as the windowsills of the industrial building, which is thus given a pavilion-like character.
If you proceed to the walk-on floor level, other elements of the exhibition become accessible. Through a trap door a video projection can be seen; objects hang from long poles; an indefinable substance lies half-unwrapped in plastic foil on a pedestal; black amorphous objects quietly send up a rustling sound, while orange ones waft through the room. But what is all this good for?
The black plastic funnel, for instance, was a consequence of the following observation Walde made: “In a labyrinthine corridor at the airport in Rome, I see something disconcerting but at the same time deeply functional. A funnel-shaped, glued-together industrial foil construction is attached to a ceiling segment of approximately 650 square feet. Under this construction stands a small container, into which the debris and dust collects that directly trickles from the ceiling through the funnel and into the container. [...] Therefore, the construction is a hyperbolic funnel. Such funnel shapes are part of the standard vocabulary of bionic forms in nature.” Walde hypothesizes that there are no qualifiers behind the function of dust conveyance other than simple material logic. He therefore modifies only slightly what he observed and plans his own version of an irregular hyperbolic funnel. It not only tapers off, it even forms a vortex much like the ones you see whenever water is siphoned off. The fact that this functionality is reproducible is very important to Walde, especially in order to assure a margin of interpretation if the work should be set up under another name, in another context, and with different meta-functions and characteristics.
In Dornbirn the work has the title Stardust and thus leads to a number of associations and evokes certain narratives. Is it really dust from the universe that is collected in the soup plate under the funnel? It reminds you of Grimm’s fairytale of “The Star Money” while you try to discover the origin of the dust on the ceiling. And the presence of the dish transforms the wooden floor, elevated about 50 inches, into a set table at which we can eat whatever Mother Earth provides. However, what remains in any – also future – version of the installation is a metaphor that allows the hyperbolic funnel to be recognized as a universal model for singularities in a diagram language, i.e., for space warp and for the depiction of dark matter and black holes. Thus it represents an abstract view into the cosmos, a reach for the stars. “Pure Science Fiction,” as Martin Walde thinks of Stardust, “because from a singular space, matter has no escape.”
The door sunk into the middle of the floor looks like a trap or a dead end. It stands open and steps lead downwards. You can sit on the steps and watch a video: From Moment to Moment, the work that also gave the exhibition its name. You see shots of a summer meadow. The camera is handheld. It moves in slow motion and always onwards. Not wielded in a linear fashion, it follows no continual choreography. At the same time there is perceptible movement in the meadow, occasioned by the wind, the change in light, and insects. What at first seems static, with time becomes visible as a gradually changing segment of the meadow. Since the mid-1990s, Walde has worked continuously on a series of film takes. What they all have in common is the attempt to compile sequences of almost imperceptible camera movement without cuts over a period of time that is as long as possible. Against the dominant narrative pattern of our time that no longer pauses but only hastens from action to action, Walde holds up the prospect of a seemingly timeless progression “from moment to moment.” Yet, the work is not only about deceleration. As it subverts our habits of looking and media-watching, we can digest what is processed in a much more differentiated way. The unfocused ramble across the meadow thus becomes a meditative journey into a microcosm and, in relation to Stardust, to a reflection on what is infinitesimally small in a gigantic space.
You also feel relatively small standing in front of the next work located alongside the trap door. Flowers loom 30 feet high. But it is only a stylized bouquet and the blossoms are made from waste material: plastic bags, sticky tape, blown up latex gloves, foil, and so on. The stalks are carbon fishing rods; they weigh little and are highly elastic and stable. But why are they mounted on steel springs? You quickly discover that the springs allow you to pull the rods down easily. When you let go, they move back up on their own. The higher up the weight is at the top, the gentler and slow the movement. If the weight is too heavy, the stalks remain grounded by the leverage. The title of the work, I-Point, alludes to the concept of “information points,” (i.e., information centers). The work was planned for outdoors where, in public places, it may also have a signaling effect. Messages and slogans, lost-and-found articles, or objects of barter can also be brought into circulation in this way, and the flower bouquet can become a communication center.
The interaction lends form and character to the artwork and expands its spectrum. A series of black, oval objects spread around the floor has a similar effect. The objects emit a soft rustle, and cables jut out of them. Here, too, you soon notice that you have to pick them up in order for something to happen. Nothing happens unless you walk around with them: With a bit of luck you find a position that is both agreeable and allows the reception of a pleasing radio program. Walde has covered small radios with silicon, therefore making the tuner unworkable. If you want to hear something clearly, you must actually take matters into your own hands and physically search for a reception. Here, too, the artist arouses our curiosity and desire for play.
As early as 1992, Walde had given in to a strong urge and produced Forever sticky, forever wet. For this he crumpled up a silicon puddle measuring several dozen square feet. He used then-standardized industrial substances and, by deliberately misinterpreting the instructions for use, hoped to arrive at unexpected results. By ignoring the package insert, a physical state between fluid and solid was produced. And removing the wrapper and its natural drapery yielded an object that might recall a flower, but which, just like a flower, could not perform any standardized function (except an aesthetic one). Forever sticky, forever wet is part of the series of Hallucigenia Products. Within their framework, the material properties and their uses are manipulated in a way that, through calculated serendipity – the observation of something which was not originally sought and turns out to be a chance and happy discovery – results in quite new possibilities for their usage. Hallucigenia, an animal species similar to velvet worms that lived 500 million years ago, triggered a long-lasting discussion on its physical appearance. For his series Walde took over the “principle of parallel fictions of a creature with different manifest forms,” which also yielded many “abortive results,” which in turn “found an equal place among the Hallucigenia Products, since Hallucigenia themselves are creatures whose possibilities are not exhausted by being right or wrong,” as Walde remarked.
The last items in the exhibition are also the results of a “wrong reaction” of specific kinds of material. Alien Latex is made up of neoprene, latex, air, and helium, but the helium and air supplies gradually lessen. The sun and the atmospheric conditions cause the material of the weather balloons to deteriorate. The skin becomes porous; the balloons go increasingly limp, until in the end they only creep along. At this time they are taken down from the rods and begin their second life. As indefinable creatures they crawl through the exhibition, each bit of air and each little bustle breathes life into them. Likewise dependent on interaction, they scrape out an existence as a planned, but quite simpatico, obsolescence.
Since the 1980s, Martin Walde has been engaged in expanding the concept of art and of nature. In his exhibitions we can immerse ourselves in microcosms and macrocosms, experience the transformation of objects, and witness the metamorphoses of materials. The floor level is not only a platform for Walde’s art, but also a stage for us viewers. With From Moment to Moment, Walde goes beyond merely assembling art objects: He creates a trail to follow, along which we complete his artistic work – via playful processes that often recall natural ones. Martin Walde transforms the Kunstraum into a garden full of cultures that strangely resembles an artificial world.
Martin Walde, born 1957 in Innsbruck, lives and works in Vienna. More information on him here. The exhibition catalog can be ordered here.