ARTISTS
Under Destruction II
Jean Tinguely鈥檚 鈥淗omage to New York鈥� was performed in MoMA鈥檚 Sculpture Garden on an icy winter evening in March, 1960.
Jen Schwarting / The Brooklyn Rail
01 Jul, 2011
SWISS INSTITUTE | MAY 18鈥嗏�撯�咼UNE 19, 2011
Jean Tinguely鈥檚 鈥淗omage to New York鈥� was performed in MoMA鈥檚 Sculpture Garden on an icy winter evening in March, 1960. The sprawling, scaffold-like kinetic sculpture was built onsite, and both the inclement weather and outsized scope of production were likely factors in the failure of the mechanized structure to fully operate and self-destruct as planned. Still, Tinguely鈥檚 vast assemblage of inter-connected appliances was wildly ambitious, chaotic, and for the audience, uniquely visceral, as overlapping audios produced a vociferous roar and smashed-together bottles released a rancid stench鈥攁ll before the machine caught on fire.
Standing in front of his smoldering 鈥淗omage,鈥� Tinguely was said
to have cheerfully (and somewhat circuitously) stated: 鈥淵ou can鈥檛
expect the end of the world to end the way you want it to.鈥� Yet his work
did succeed in humorously addressing fears of impending
disaster鈥攕ociety doomed to self-destruct in over-consumption, if not
completely self-annihilate in nuclear war. The Museum Tinguely in
Switzerland houses the artist鈥檚 self-destroying sculptures and his
groundbreaking kinetic works, and it organizes exhibitions of artists
influenced by Tinguely鈥檚 experimentation and legacy. Similarly, the
contemporary group exhibition, Under Destruction,comes to the
Swiss Institute in New York divided into three successive installments鈥攁
limitation of the space鈥檚 modest, second-floor gallery, but further
evidence of the organization鈥檚 excellent programming.
Under Destruction II opens to what sounds like a demolition site and a clamoring of potential energy. Competing for attention are the amplified soundtracks of three adjacent videos: the reverberate screeching in Christian Marclay鈥檚 鈥淕uitar Drag鈥� (2000); the hum of reciprocating saws in Michael Landy鈥檚 鈥淏reak Down鈥� (2001); and the perpetual whump of rocks striking metal in Jimmie Durham鈥檚 鈥淪toning the Refrigerator鈥� (1996). The videos are intermittently drowned out by the sound of Liz Larner鈥檚 鈥淐orner Basher鈥� (1988), a viewer-operated, kinetic sculpture topped by a wrecking ball that spins, lurches, and destroys the gallery walls with an unpredictable force.
The exhibition is thrilling, and many of the works in the vein of Tinguely serve up wit with destruction, such as Martin Kersels鈥檚 鈥淧ink Constellation鈥� (2001), a model bedroom built to rotate 360 degrees. In the video documentation, Kersels performs in the room as it is literally turned upside-down and he is comically, yet disconcertingly, crushed by falling furniture. Intensifying the viewer experience with biting humor and a pervasive, sickly-sweet smell is Johannes Vogl鈥檚 鈥淯ntitled (Machine To Produce Jam Breads)鈥� (2007), a mechanized assembly system dispensing piles of breakfasts that continually go to waste.
Themes of reckless consumption and exhaustion permeate the exhibition, though Michael Landy鈥檚 鈥淏reak Down鈥� most closely mirrors Tinguley鈥檚 critical position on consumerism and accumulation. In 2001, Landy took all of his possessions to a London showroom, displayed them on a large circuit of moving conveyor belts in a factory-like setting, and organized uniformed workers to categorize, chop-up, shred, and destroy everything he owned. 鈥淓verything鈥� included his passport, his car, and valuable works made by his friends Gillian Wearing and Damien Hirst. The destruction of artworks was Landy鈥檚 ultimate statement of artistic commitment to his project鈥攄eemed by the Turner Prize committee an act of unforgivable transgression鈥攁nd controversial enough to allegedly cost the artist the prize.
鈥淏reak Down鈥� is a work of daring and determination, and鈥攚ith so much at stake for the artist鈥� deeply satisfying for a viewer to consider. Lately, a lot of work being shown in the New York galleries seems, by contrast, purposely provisional, flat, formal, and so polite. The aggression, intensity, and dark humor of the works in the exhibition, many completed about a decade ago, feels refreshing鈥攁nd yet somehow, clearly dated. The works recall a preoccupation with entropy and demonstrate a time, just before the digital age as we know it, when clunky machines and industrial appliances, pick-up trucks, and refrigerators could still represent a power to be subverted.
If there is renewed interest in this approach, it can currently be seen at the US Pavilion in Venice, as Allora and Calzadilla鈥檚 massive overturned military tank spins its wheels. While their machine noisily portends a nation鈥檚 exhaustion of resources, society鈥檚 ultimate doom and destruction will probably appear in the form of something far more innocuous. We should keep an eye on Christian Marclay, who often has his finger on the pulse, winning the Biennial award with his utterly brilliant 鈥淭he Clock鈥濃�攁 riveting, meticulously crafted loop of Hollywood entertainment that runs 24 hours, non-stop.
Under Destruction II opens to what sounds like a demolition site and a clamoring of potential energy. Competing for attention are the amplified soundtracks of three adjacent videos: the reverberate screeching in Christian Marclay鈥檚 鈥淕uitar Drag鈥� (2000); the hum of reciprocating saws in Michael Landy鈥檚 鈥淏reak Down鈥� (2001); and the perpetual whump of rocks striking metal in Jimmie Durham鈥檚 鈥淪toning the Refrigerator鈥� (1996). The videos are intermittently drowned out by the sound of Liz Larner鈥檚 鈥淐orner Basher鈥� (1988), a viewer-operated, kinetic sculpture topped by a wrecking ball that spins, lurches, and destroys the gallery walls with an unpredictable force.
The exhibition is thrilling, and many of the works in the vein of Tinguely serve up wit with destruction, such as Martin Kersels鈥檚 鈥淧ink Constellation鈥� (2001), a model bedroom built to rotate 360 degrees. In the video documentation, Kersels performs in the room as it is literally turned upside-down and he is comically, yet disconcertingly, crushed by falling furniture. Intensifying the viewer experience with biting humor and a pervasive, sickly-sweet smell is Johannes Vogl鈥檚 鈥淯ntitled (Machine To Produce Jam Breads)鈥� (2007), a mechanized assembly system dispensing piles of breakfasts that continually go to waste.
Themes of reckless consumption and exhaustion permeate the exhibition, though Michael Landy鈥檚 鈥淏reak Down鈥� most closely mirrors Tinguley鈥檚 critical position on consumerism and accumulation. In 2001, Landy took all of his possessions to a London showroom, displayed them on a large circuit of moving conveyor belts in a factory-like setting, and organized uniformed workers to categorize, chop-up, shred, and destroy everything he owned. 鈥淓verything鈥� included his passport, his car, and valuable works made by his friends Gillian Wearing and Damien Hirst. The destruction of artworks was Landy鈥檚 ultimate statement of artistic commitment to his project鈥攄eemed by the Turner Prize committee an act of unforgivable transgression鈥攁nd controversial enough to allegedly cost the artist the prize.
鈥淏reak Down鈥� is a work of daring and determination, and鈥攚ith so much at stake for the artist鈥� deeply satisfying for a viewer to consider. Lately, a lot of work being shown in the New York galleries seems, by contrast, purposely provisional, flat, formal, and so polite. The aggression, intensity, and dark humor of the works in the exhibition, many completed about a decade ago, feels refreshing鈥攁nd yet somehow, clearly dated. The works recall a preoccupation with entropy and demonstrate a time, just before the digital age as we know it, when clunky machines and industrial appliances, pick-up trucks, and refrigerators could still represent a power to be subverted.
If there is renewed interest in this approach, it can currently be seen at the US Pavilion in Venice, as Allora and Calzadilla鈥檚 massive overturned military tank spins its wheels. While their machine noisily portends a nation鈥檚 exhaustion of resources, society鈥檚 ultimate doom and destruction will probably appear in the form of something far more innocuous. We should keep an eye on Christian Marclay, who often has his finger on the pulse, winning the Biennial award with his utterly brilliant 鈥淭he Clock鈥濃�攁 riveting, meticulously crafted loop of Hollywood entertainment that runs 24 hours, non-stop.
