2007

ERWIN WURM: WAYS OF THINKING OF SOMETHING EXCEPTIONAL 

Can sculpture become a gesture, an action or a process captured in a snapshot or a short film? A series of works like the “One Minute Sculptures” or “Instructions for Idleness”, “Instructions on How to Be Politically Incorrect”, “Thinking About Philosophers”, “Throw Yourself Away”, “Looking for a Bomb” and many others that Erwin Wurm made since the early 1990s, clearly show the answer is affirmative. More than a static object, in his work, sculpture becomes a dynamic act, an action that, as well as being momentary and incidental, is also biting, subversive and disturbing. It often tends to reveal a sense of precariousness, ill at ease with conformist behaviour and restrictive social conventions. At the same time, sculpture is seen as a performative, almost choreographic act, an event that interconnects the human body, the act and the everyday object. As such, it acts as a powerful metaphor of what lies at the heart of creativity, in a desire to create art and, in a certain sense, at the heart of existence itself: the principle of transformation and renewal. On the one hand, Erwin Wurm’s work can be viewed as a reflection on the language of sculpture, based on those motifs that had already been introduced in the late 1960s with currents such as Conceptual Art and Body Art, by artists such as Franz Erhard Walther, Bruce Naumann, Bas Jan Ader and others, who started shifting the core concept from the object to the process. On the other hand, however, when viewed in a broader context, it can be considered as a reflection on the transience and on the continuous change in which we are all caught up.

Dobrila Denegri: I would like to start our conversation by asking about your artistic formation, studies that you did, and eventually influences or affinities in art, theory, film, literature, theatre, or in any other field that you might consider important for the development of your creative process and ideas at the time?

Erwin Wurm: I started to study sculpture in the Mozarteum in Salzburg, but actually, I would have loved to study painting. For some reason, or maybe a mistake, I had been put in the sculpture class, and then it was a big disappointment for me, since I had already been painting. After half a year, or more, I decided to remain in the sculpture class and to start working with questions that dealt with the basic conditions of sculpture and its primary meaning. So, I began questioning what it meant to do sculpture today in relation to the past. Also, under what conditions can sculpture be redefined? I had to deal with some basic questions: what happens when you go from two to three dimensions, or when does an action become sculpture?
On the other hand, I had been reading a lot of art theory, which influenced me strongly, too. But when you study art, you arrive at a certain point where you have to get rid of what you have been thinking so far. After completing my studies in Salzburg, I moved to Vienna, where I studied at the University of the Applied Arts, in the same class where I am currently teaching. At the time, I was a student of Bazon Brock, a theorist very much involved with Fluxus, with Joseph Beuys in particular, and this was a very powerful influence on me. Talking about influences or affinities, as you mentioned in the very beginning, when I was about eighteen, I was quite interested in Surrealism, but after a few years I couldn’t take it seriously any more, since there was this group of Viennese artists called “Fantastic Realists” doing the sort of work that had no relevance for me at all. During my later studies, at the end of the '70s, it was the work of Joseph Beuys that had the greatest impact on me. 
But as I said, I felt the necessity to get rid of all the teachings and so I started doing everything that was the contrary; which means that at the time when Minimalism was still very influential, as well as Conceptual Art, Fluxus and, of course, Beuys, I decided to start working with very traditional themes in sculpture, like the standing figure or equestrian figure, themes that originate from Greek, Roman or Renaissance sculpture. To realise these pieces, I chose materials that were in my immediate surroundings, garbage, discarded materials like old pieces of wood or used tin cans. So, on one side, it was the ideological question of traditional sculpture that I wanted to deal with, and, on the other, I wanted to do it by using these very trivial materials. But as painting was still very important to me, I actually started painting the sculptures so that the paint became a kind of “second skin” for the structures. I realised after some time that, in this period that I consider very important for me, I was using painting as a sculptural method to disorient and to dislocate the structure of the sculpture itself. 

DD: Could you tell me more about the context of the Vienna scene in the beginning of the ‘80s, the years when you started to exhibit, the kind of artistic discourse that was on at that time? Are there some other artists, of your own or other generations, that you have been in correspondence with in relation to the issues that you have been developing in your work?

EW: The works that I described all of a sudden gained a lot of interest from the critics and from the public. It was the time of the “Neue Malerei” and “Neue Skulptur” in Germany and Austria, or of what was called “Transavanguardia” in Italy. Because of this sudden interest and success of my work, I’ve fallen into that trap that often gets released when a market discovers a young artist too early. Of course, in the beginning, the success was a good thing, but soon I realised that I was doing something that really didn’t come from me, but it was more or less a reaction to the academism of the teachers. Since it was not what I wanted to do my entire life, I started to rethink all of my concepts and to change them, and that’s how I began what I’m still doing now. The Vienna scene at that time was quite active, and among the artists I was more in contact with were Schmalix, Moosbacher, Kowanz, Gasteiger and Franz West, who sometimes asked me to exchange works with them, which both they and I would then sell. West would also sometimes ask me to paint some of his pieces, but he would ask other artists, too. In general, the scene in the early ‘80s was very much influenced by artists like Arnulf Rainer, Bruno Gironcoli, Oswald Oberhuber and others, while on the other hand, it was the time when artists like Gerwald Rockenschaub and others were coming up and becoming more known. 

DD: In your very early works, as you already mentioned, you used wood, metal, and more “classical” sculptural materials and then you turned towards more ephemeral materials, daily objects and an action-based sculptural practice. How did this shift occur? Was it only a reaction to what you had been doing or also something else?

EW: Principally, the move from this sculptural work, in which I was using materials like wood or metal, came really as a reaction to the work itself. For some reason, it became more and more heavy, in an ideological, philosophical, as well as physical, materialistic sense, and it brought me to the point where I felt a need to rethink it all. There was another equally important aspect, and it concerns the fact that I always wanted very strongly to be able to make a living with my work. As an artist, I wanted to be free only to do art, nothing else. That, in a way, meant that I had to invent a very cheap production. For instance, that was one of the reasons that I used trash materials. 

DD: This leads us to the “Dust” series and the question of what was your primary interest in these works?

EW: Exactly, the next step after this was the “Dust” series. Since I was using some of the materials that could be found in my surroundings, I thought that since it brought me to all the “objects from daily life”, why not use them all? So it meant not only thrown away materials but also clothes or even dust. Dust gave me the possibility to design something three-dimensional without showing it. When you have some dust on the board or on the table around the object, and then you move the object away, what remains is the imprint of the object in the dusty surface, and this was so interesting to me that I started working with it. What remains is like the negative, but you can’t trace back the origin of the form, of the object that was there. You have to imagine it, create it mentally. This work is very much about absence. The absence of the object in this case, as in the other, in which I was using clothes, the theme was the absence of the persons who wore them. Secondly, the clothes are like a second skin of the people, just as the dust can be considered the “second skin” of the objects, so again, I was dealing here with painting. If in the beginning I was painting the sculptures, treating the paint as the “second skin” of the sculpture, now I was continuing to develop the same idea but from another perspective. 

DD: What triggered “One Minute Sculptures”, and can it still be considered a work in progress? 

EW: “One Minute Sculptures” is a finished series at the moment. One of my concepts is to be able to renew my ideas and develop them constantly to have a wide working base and different lines which are connected with it. So the “One Minute Sculptures” are just one part of my work, an important one, I agree, but just one part. The interest in the aspect of time started in my work with the dust and then with the instructional sweater pieces. Both work groups were defined by a short period of existence. In the sweater pieces, the end was defined by the end of the exhibition. These pieces had to be realised with two nails and an instruction on how to hang them. After that, they could be used as sweaters again. This was something very important to me, because usually an artwork is endless, it has to last forever, but here the end was a designated part of the work too. The part regarding the very existence of the piece becomes more important, since the works existed for shorter and shorter periods of time, which finally led me to the “One Minute Sculptures” that basically stood for a sculpture that exists only for a very brief time-lapse. This is when I gave them this name “One Minute Sculptures”, which was just a synonym for short duration. With this name, I also wanted to create a kind of identity, or a kind of label, as if the piece would be a product. 

DD: Rather than making static objects, you seem interested in the process of conceiving the act of sculpture itself as sudden and momentary. In this regard, I’d like to re-propose a question that I found interesting in relation to your work: "Is there a specific point where action becomes sculpture?" Could you elaborate more on this point? What constitutes a sculpture for you?

EW: “The specific point where action becomes sculpture” - this is exactly the question I worked with for a very long time. It played a central role in my work. For example, I would ask people to stand quietly in one position in which they objectively could remain for a very short time, and I would film them; and if the film registration lasted about a minute, I’d loop it so it lasted about an hour. By watching it for a longer time, one would notice that the brain starts to play funny games. We are not constructed to see quietness, but to see movement, so all of a sudden our brain would imagine that the person is moving. In reality he was still, but we would interpret it as movement. Also, for instance, if you have an action, a simple one like cleaning shoes or washing dishes, and you take the movement and repeat it for a long period of time, it would seem that everything has slowed down. When you repeat this movement long enough, it comes to the point where it seems still, which I found very intriguing. 
This is what was interesting for me on the one hand, and on the other, I realised that these “One Minute Sculptures” or other early pieces like the one where a person is wearing many sweaters, made me accept those aspects that you usually try to avoid in an artwork: ridiculousness, embarrassment, stupidity and things like that, that anyway are a part of our personality. All of a sudden, this became really important for me: to allow it to become a part of the piece. 

DD: What feelings do you aspire to provoke in the people you worked with for pieces like “Do it”, “Self Service”, “Instructions for Political Incorrectness” or others of this kind?

EW: I am very interested in psychological and philosophical questions, as well as political ones, so that’s why I was doing pieces about political incorrectness. I was interested in the situations which allow us to expand the boundaries of common behaviour, or ways of thinking about something exceptional. 
The realisation process of those pieces triggered a very interesting game, because, to make photos, I involved volunteers who responded to the advertisement I had put in the newspaper. I would ask people whether they would be willing to help me complete the work. So, many responded and then came to me with certain expectations. I also had certain expectations, but these two somehow didn’t fit. They were expecting something that I couldn’t give them, and I was demanding something that they weren’t able to give me. We had to find a way to come together, so in a way I seduced them to do what I wanted, and this game of seducing became very important. Everyone has a boundary, and when you succeed in inducing him or her to cross this limit, then it becomes interesting. What happens then? This is a very important part in the piece; it is not just the photograph, it is not the final result, it’s what is happening between me and the actor (public): this psychological and philosophical interaction. My strong question was also, “Why are these people doing all this?” I found great interest in the point when sculpture, or art, became directly connected to the character of the actor or the spectator, attached to the psychology of those who were involved. In that moment, everything becomes very clear and direct. Psychology is not a symbol any more, but it is a direct connection between me and them, between art and them. 

DD: A sort of inner meaning of this work was to trigger contact, to establish a kind of dynamic interaction and bring into relation a larger and more common public with you, and with art in general. If it happens that the audience doesn’t interact with your works, do you consider it a failure?

EW: No, not at all. I give the instructions, which are a possibility. Art always has a lot to do with acceptance. Especially the acceptance of the public. Art needs the public, needs people who can read the work. Even the greatest masterpieces are nothing if they are in a place where nobody can see them. All their greatness comes out only if somebody is able to read it. 
In my case, it is an offer to the public, and if they are willing to participate, then we are doing something together, then they are a part of the piece, and they are the ones who help me to create it. Then the piece exists. If not, it’s all right also, ‘cause then there is still a drawing on the wall, and it is a part of a work of art, too.

DD: Besides involving the public actively in the fruition of your work, are you open to collaboration with other artists? Have you had experiences of this kind?

EW: Sometimes I did, like for example, with Sylvie Fleury, who I like as an artist and as a person, but frankly, I’m not the type who is interested so much in doing something and then another artist does something to it, and so on. I’m not social enough, I think. But what I really can’t stand is if somebody adds something to my work. I have to deal with my own personal condition.

DD: When I saw for the first time on MTV the video clip by Red Hot Chili Peppers “Can’t Stop”, I thought, “how strange, this looks like something coming from ‘contemporary art’…” Was this a collaboration, or did they, in a way, “appropriate” your work? In general, what is your reaction if you see some of your ideas appropriated by musicians and fashion stylists and proposed within a context which is beyond the “art world”? 

EW: Pieces like “One Minute Sculptures” were often used by fashion photographers or other photographers, video makers, musicians and so on. I had always had this mixed feeling, ‘cause on the one hand, it is interesting to see that I created something that other people like, find inspiring and want to use. At the same time, it can become very disappointing because if they use it too often, then the idea gets worn out and weak. You remember there was this very important piece by Picasso, and it was copied so often that in the end, you could not see his image any more. Or Brancusi, who made this great sculpture of the bird with a long neck, and then in the ‘50s, there were all these copies or rather interpretations, so you would end up almost unable to look at the original any more. So, this is the negative part, and that’s why I am very strict when I see some of my ideas used by others, in advertisements, for example, or in other contexts. The problem is that you don’t have much of a chance because the law says that you really cannot protect the idea unless someone copies it one-to-one. I realised that one curator copied my works by asking artists to repeat them, and I found this quite weird. I fought this and I got my rights immediately. With Red Hot Chili Peppers, it was great because they have been really professional. They called me and asked if they could use the pieces for the video. It was first Marc Romanek, a renowned music video director who had worked with people like Madonna or Michael Jackson, who contacted me and explained what they wanted to do. I replied that I’d like to receive parts of the video clip while it was still in the process of being made, so I could control and eventually change something, and I also asked that they mention that the video is based on a work of mine. So they really wrote that it is “inspired by the ‘One Minute Sculptures’ of Erwin Wurm”, and they also paid; so they worked really very professionally. Of course, I know that giving away an idea like this is a very dangerous game, and when I saw the finished video, I thought that I would have done it differently, but as far as the use of the intellectual property is concerned, they proceeded in a very correct way. Other bands also did videos, using some of my ideas, but they didn’t ask me. The nice thing is that Elaine Sturtevant did a piece about this. She said, “Erwin, you are copied so much that I’ll make you a stamp and you can stamp all the copies and turn them into the originals of yourself.” I liked it, it’s a nice idea, but I never used the stamp!

DD: What characterises your working procedure, and are there some formal concerns to which you attribute more attention?

EW: Basically, the way I work, seen from the outside, appears very fast, creating the impression that I work like a maniac, but the fact is that I work in a very slow way. I take slow steps. I progress slowly from one part to the next. For example, I made a book about gaining and losing weight, something that I see as a sculptural problem; so I did this book on how to become two sizes bigger in only eight days in ’93, and then I made the photo series like “Myself Skinny and Fat” or the people fat, or the car fat or the house fat, and it might look like a fast passage but it is not. After, I did houses that are melting, like the Guggenheim or the skyscraper by Mies van der Rohe and similar examples, and all these works emerged over a period of more than twelve years. I take very slow steps, but I try constantly to move on. On the other hand, when I did a book about gaining weight, and later the photos, or even works with dust, it was important to visualise an idea, not to become really overweight or wait for three months till the dust falls off. For many artists, it was like that, also when Beuys did his performance “I Like America and America Likes Me”, he didn’t really sleep in the cage with the coyote; the idea is enough. 

DD: Besides “Fat House”, also made in a rather large scale, you mentioned different sculptures of melting architectures, of buildings projected by famous modernist architects, like Mies van der Rohe, Adolf Loos, Frank Lloyd Wright, etc. Are these only sculptures, maquettes, or did you ever think of intervening in the real architecture? On what are you working now, and do you have any unrealised projects?

EW: With the “model sculptures”, the idea would be to do it in reality, but it is impossible. So I’m playing or pretending to do it. I make the architectural model, which is always the first step to realising something. The same was true of the “Fat House” – first I made the model and then it became a real architecture. On the other hand, for some other works, just a model exists that is there to show a possibility. 
At the moment, I am working on another fat car. I love working with cars, since it is such an important object in our society; I think they are the most important, besides the computer. Cars include so many projections: from a status symbol, a sexual symbol, a vehicle that makes mobility possible… everything is there. So the new piece is called “Me as a Car under LSD”. The car is like a total mess, like a dream of the ‘70s under LSD, total phantasmagoria, and it has nothing to do with a car, but it still reminds us of a car. When you look at it, you think you are drunk or hallucinating. 

DD: How significant is the element of disturbance of social conventions for you, the principle of challenging or undermining rules and regulations that shape our social behaviour? Does art (still) have the power to impose or propose alternative models?

EW: All of this is very important: reflecting upon the conditions and proposing alternatives. I’m interested in all that regards social and personal conditions, since these conditions and conventions shape us. I think it is the basic theme of our life. It is my main theme, I would say. My theme starts with personal conditions, social conditions, and then observes the interaction and relation of the two, especially if you are aware that reality is so different for each person; we don’t have one but thousands of realities. But politics or advertising, for example, show us only one reality, forcing us to accept it as the only or dominant one. It is so wrong. 

DD: What inspires you most?

EW: I would say my life inspires me most. I walk with open ears and open eyes, and there are many things that I see around me or on the TV that trigger some ideas. Just looking at the world inspires me. My basic issue, which is also a general issue of art, is our time, and this means that my work is an interpretation of the world in which we all are living. 

Published in “Erwin Wurm” Electa, Milano, 2007
Catalogue of Wurm’s solo exhibition at the MACRO - Museum of Contemporary Art, Rome.