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ARTIST
PRESENTATION
Christian Boltanski
Boltanski: It’s rather a problem for me to be here because I’m
not a photographer and I nearly never met a photo in my life. I’m
a very traditional painter and perhaps that was some kind of mistake, but
we can talk about painting. We can stick with painting in any case because
I can’t speak about photography really. In fact, I don’t believe
that there’s a difference in the media, I don’t believe it’s
a different way to work if you use video as part of a painting. It seems
to me in any case, there’s no progress in art as much as there’s
a progress in sounds that one shows as no progress in art, and it seems
to me that we are all repeating the same thing for so long time. There’s
very, very few subject and the artist always speaking about the same subject
since the beginning of time, when the subject are looking for God, sex,
but it’s always the same question. And we have no answer, just
a question. And we repeat and repeat the same thing, we use perhaps different
kinds of words, we are not exactly speaking like in the 18th century,
but
in fact, it is exactly the same thing that we are speaking about.
I told you that I was not a photographer, and I tell you that I nearly
never met a photo, but I’ve used a lot of photos in my life. Because
there is some kind of correlation between a human being and a photo. A
photo is a little like a shadow of somebody who is missing. And I can tell
you, in my work, there’s a lot a lot of people. There’s always
a lot of people. I work with a lot of people. Thousands of dead Swedes,
thousands of Spanish criminals--there’s a lot of people in my work.
And I always made the correlation between the photo of somebody who uses
cloth, and a dead body. All that is object, but is object in relation to
a subject and the subject is missing. And what is something so strange
with photos that they say nothing about a person? I made a very large work
a few years ago who is called human, and there is something like more than
1,000 photos and these photos I’ve used in my life were of people,
and all these people are dead, and I have mixed totally all the faces,
and when you look at the piece it’s totally impossible to know who
they were. Who was a nazi and who was Jewish and who was a Spanish criminal?
The only thing we can say is that all these people were human. When we
see a photo of somebody we know that there was somebody, but we know only
that--there was somebody. I think one of the questions I ask to myself
is so strange because I really believe that everybody is unique, and also
everybody is so fragile. After a few years nobody is going to remember.
The last part of my work is about discretion. I was somebody. We are each
somebody. We’re totally unique and can disappear so quickly. I work
also often with object, and I did that also in New York, I worked with
lots of people creating object. I made a big piece a few years ago with
all the objects that were in a train in New York, and for me they were
the same things, I don’t know. I have my glasses; I know these glasses.
I know when I bought these glasses, I know that they’re rather good
but not so good, and that one time I lost them. Now if I lost these glasses,
they would be only glasses with no more identity. Now what is awful to
me is to lose identity. I’m not Mormon, I’m sure there’s
a Mormon in this room, but there’s something about the Mormon religion
that they believe that at the end of time God is going to call everybody
by his name because to have a name means that you are somebody. A few years
ago I wanted to tell the names of everybody that was living on earth. And
we tried to think about that, and the big problem is that I needed four
years, day and night, to say the name of everybody, and the people are
dying so quickly and being born so quickly also, that the list can’t
be complete because you say three names and there’s somebody who’s
dead and somebody who’s born. And it’s totally impossible to
really have the complete list of everybody on earth. I made a large piece
with all the telephone books I could find. I found more than 3,000 telephone
books and it’s in a museum now, and it’s like a library and
there was a small room with something like 400 million names. But in
any case, to say the name of somebody is to say that somebody exists.
I am working, in fact I really don’t care about the media, and I’m
working with several media, but it seems to me that I have tried something
with visual, no words, to ask questions and to speak about what we are.
A large part of my work is about the dead. And I think the last part of
art is about the dead. It’s about how we can survive, but I know
we can’t do that. When I began to work a very long time ago, I tried
to preserve my life in boxes, and I thought, “What can I preserve?” I
thought I could do something with hands during one hour and to think really
about what I’m doing and if I put that in a box it will be one hour
of my life that will be preserved, but that I can say didn’t work
really. But in any case, I think all my work is about questions dealing
with disappearance. In the beginning I made a lot of work about my childhood
because the childhood is the first part of us to disappear. All of us were
once a little child, and that little child is still inside us, but we forget
and forget. A few days ago somebody told me a beautiful story. There was
a little girl who was 7-years-old and in the family a new baby arrived,
and before the baby arrived, she said, “I wish to speak to the baby,
I wish to speak to the baby.” And when the baby arrived, she said, “I
wish to be alone with the baby to speak with him.” And the parents
were a little frightened by that and they put out a little microphone or
something, and the little girl said to the baby, “Please speak to
me about God because I begin to forget.” And it seems to me that
we have the child inside us, and we forget. We know that he was there,
but more and more we forget him. And the first part of us dying is through
this child, and for this reason, the last part of my work at the beginning
was about my childhood, not my real childhood, but what I can remember
about my childhood. The only thing we can say with little optimism, and
it’s something that Napoleon said, and it’s something that’s
terribly awful and very beautiful at the same time. Napoleon was ruler
and there were thousands and thousands of dead people, and he said, “Oh,
no problems, a night of love in Paris is going to replace everybody.” And
to say that is totally awful, but on the other hand so true and so optimistic.
The only thing we can say is that in a few years there will be another
painter and another public is going to be here and it seems that everything
is going on, that’s the only thing really optimistic we can say.
But at the same time it’s awful because nobody can be replaced
and everybody is unique.
What I try when I make a show is to ask questions, but also to move
people. For me, art must be something very physical and very moving
and the problem
is that if somebody arrives at one of my shows and says, “Oh, Mr.
Boltanski is a good conceptual artist from the 90s” that means I’m
a very bad artist, they must arrive and say, “I don’t know
what happened, but something happened, but it’s art.” And if
somebody can say it’s conceptual art, then his art is very bad. They
must say, “I don’t know what it is, I don’t know--there
is no name for it.” And I think what we can call avant-garde is when
there is no name. Each time there is a name and it’s finished. For
this reason it’s easier to work outside of museums or galleries and
work very often in church and railway stations because in a museum people
know that they’re going to see art, and they add a little idea of
what art must be. But if I begin to cry just now, you are going perhaps
to be upset. But, if I’m on stage in a theater, you’re going
to say, “Oh, he feels so badly.” I think for this reason it’s
easier to work outside of galleries. I like to be on the edge, I mean,
I’m only an artist and I make only art, but I, like the people, don’t
know exactly if it’s actually art or not art. A few years ago I made
a big show in Spain and I choose to work in a church, and just before the
opening there was an old lady that said, “What happened there?” I
told her we were going to make a big celebration for the dead people. I
think she understood my work, but if I had told her I’m a modern
artist sent by the museum, I’m sure she would be so frightened and
say, “It’s a shame to do that in a church.”
I work a lot with dead Swiss. I have something like something like
six or seven thousand dead Swiss. Of course they’re dead, but I have
a photo of them when they were alive. If I choose Swiss, it’s because
the Swiss are so universal. They have no reason to die. They are cleaner,
rich, literal, so for these reasons it is better for me to choose them,
because it’s impossible to make a piece with dead Jewish, you know,
it’s too normal. It’s also works well because they’re
all smiling, clean, happy, and now everybody is equal. What was good also
was that there was always new dead Swiss. All the Swedes die and the piece
is never finished. I receive them by post office, by letters, and each
week I have, I don’t know, 100 new dead Swiss. And there were so
many people and I know nothing about them, but they were so many people
who disappeared. In my work there’s two kind of pieces. There’s
pieces that are in a way more traditional pieces, and there’s pieces
that are more experimental. For example, I made a show with all the objects
that belong to an anonymous person, and I made some kind of museum for
anonymous people. It can be done by me but it can also be done by somebody
else. The rule is to put on display all the objects of somebody chosen
by chance. I made this piece six or seven times already, and it’s
always strange how finite object you can find. In Germany I found an artificial
leg. It was strange for someone to have lost a leg. In New York I found
a dress of marriage that was lost on the train but if you’re optimistic,
you can imagine that she was so happy that she put on her dress fast, but
also perhaps that the marriage didn’t work and so she left the dress.
The objects are so strange. In Paris they told me that one day they found
the ashes of someone in front of the cemetery. Three days after somebody
went to find the ashes. But what is beautiful with all these subjects is
that we know that the subject is a relative of somebody, but we don’t
know the story, if there was a story.
I don’t like to speak about formal wear, but I’m an artist
of the 21st century, and in a way I tried to use objects that people had
before. People notice I work a lot with biscuit boxes, and if I’ve
used the biscuit boxes so much because it’s a minimal object. But
also, everybody or a lot of people, remember when they were a child they
used a biscuit box to put their little treasures inside of it--it’s
safe for people in some way. At the same time it’s a minimal object
but also something that people can remember and recognize. It’s very
important for me that people can grasp something. Like you know it’s
always the one who looks at the work who makes it work. The only thing
an artist can do is sense some kind of a stimulus, and after I can show
you a photo of a boy running on a beach, but for each one that’s
going to look at this photo, each is going to see another beach and another
child. You can say, “Oh, it looks like my neighbor in Long Island,” “It
looks like my cousin in Norway.” You know, each one is making the
work. What seems to me always so beautiful when I go to the movie is that
everybody is sitting like you are, but each one sees a different movie.
A few years ago I met someone in Japan and I made a piece with clothes.
There were two or three tons of used clothes on the floor. I showed this
piece before in Europe but in Japan people said, “Oh, it’s
really the lake of the people in the Zen tradition.” And they re-read
my work with their own background. They told me, “Oh, your art is
so Japanese, I’m sure your grandfather was Japanese.” I think
for an artist it’s very important. I’ve been to Africa where
people say, “Oh, your art is so African.” Because, when you’re
an artist at the same time you must speak about your own village, but that
must be the village of everybody. You speak about your own life, but each
one must to say, “It’s me. It’s my story.” If you
can read an autobiography of somebody, like we can read Proust, for example,
it’s because he’s not speaking about himself, he’s speaking
about us. And each time, at first it’s impossible to speak about
something that nobody knows. There’s this stupid joke of the first
man to go to the moon and somebody asked him what the moon looked like
and he said, “Oh, the moon looks like a baseball.” Because
I can’t describe something that nobody has seen. If I say baseball
field, you know more or less what it is. But you can’t describe it
as something not known. And for this reason, I think the work belongs to
everybody but we’re going to show something better than what everybody
knows already. To be an artist, it’s too difficult, I never did it,
would be, for example, to make a work about the smell of the coffee at
home a long time ago, and everybody can say, “Yes, I can smell it.
I remember.” But that is very, very difficult to do. It’s this
kind of strangulation between the individual and the collective. At the
same time, we work and I work with my own background. I think to be an
artist is also to repeat and to repeat the same problem. One of my favorite
artists for example is Louise Bourgeois, for 90 years she repeats the fact
that she had a problem with her father and she repeats it and repeats it
and repeats. But if we can love the work of Louise Bourgeois it is because
at the same time it’s her story and she tried to understand a problem
and at the same time it’s a story of everybody. I have an idea, but
I’m not sure if it’s too technical or too Christian, I thought
that an artist didn’t have a face anymore. The more you work the
less you exist and you become the others, and you are always a reflection
of the others. It is rather difficult to speak, really, I didn’t
like to show slides, like I said before my work is always awful on photos,
on slide, because I’m not sure if my work is good enough to be in
the room. I’m going to be pretentious, but it’s a little like
going to church, something must happen, and to show a photo and say it’s
only this is not enough when what I hope is that something is going to
happen. With a photo it’s very difficult because when I make a show,
it is very important for me to know if the weather is going to be cold
or hot because I think I’m a better artist for cold country. But
in any case you always have to imagine if there’s some heat or not
or if there’s some sun, because you don’t see the same thing
if you have plenty of sun outside. If you have plenty of sun outside you
can play with the darkness. Like in some small church in Italy, for example,
it’s very hot and you arrive in something that’s fresh and
dark, you must play with that. There’s a big difference between music,
radio, theater and painting. Film and music are art while working with
a time problem, and the painter, like me, is are working with a space problem
and that’s something very different. Unfortunately I think the emotion
is much more easy to give with art that has a time problem because you
have the suspense--you never know what is going to arrive one minute after.
If we can be touched by music, one of the reasons we are touched by the
music is because [intentional scratching noise]. And, when we see a movie
we see the nice guy and ten minutes after we understand that he was not
nice at all--there’s the suspense. When you see a painting, you can
stand ten hours in front of the painting but there’s no kind of suspense.
When I make a large show, I try to make some kind of a sequence. I try
to have a beginning and an end. In fact, people can stare ten minutes in
the first room and five minutes in the second room and they can move as
fast as they want, but I try to have some kind of a continuation. When
I make a show, and I’m very old and have made a lot of retrospectives
in my life, I make a retrospective with something that is funny for me.
It’s a little like when you go back home and open the fridge and
you have one or two eggs, some butter toast and one sausage, and with all
that you try to make something new. When I make a show it is the same.
In the fridge in my head I have a lot of things and I try to recreate something.
When I use, for example, when an object belongs to a museum, if the curator
comes, they’re always so depressed because he can’t recognize
the object because I transformed it totally, and at the end I want to
create only one piece with perhaps 20 pieces. And all the pieces I made
is some
kind of material with which to create a new work.
You know it’s something rather difficult because now I, like a musician,
take my old work and transform it. But after me, somebody must try to play
my art because it’s not the same to make a show in this room or in
the garden or in a gallery. Each time we must think how to do it again,
and yes, to transform it. I hope that people are going to play my art and
sometimes it is going to be well-played, and sometimes it’s going
to be bad-played, but like, you know, I’m not sure how people play
Chopin, in a good way or bad way, but they play it. And for me what I try
to do is not stop. I mean, the show is for a space, but if you change the
space, you must change the piece. I have a story about how a few years
ago the dead gallery in London bought a large piece, which was some dead
Swiss on shelves with a white curtain. When I arrived there, the curator
told me, “You know, the white sheet is going to be yellow in a few
years.” I said, “Okay, well, you change it.” And after
he told me, “You know, the photos are going to disappear,” and
I said, “I really don’t care, there’s new dead Swiss.” Then
I said to him, “You know, I made the shelf for this room, but if
you show the piece in another room, you must change the shape of the shelves.” And
he said, “What I bought?” And I said, “You bought the
idea of the dead Swiss on a shelf with white sheet.” Last year I
sold a piece and I wasn’t happy because it was a cloth piece and
I gave them nothing. I received the money but I gave them nothing, not
a paper or anything. The rule I gave them was cloth on the wall on four
walls--but that’s all. After that they can do what they want with
it. It’s cloth on four walls and they can do what they want. They
must display it and in fact they displayed it very badly and when I saw
the piece it was not very good. But it’s not my fault; it’s
their fault. At the same time, there’s no materiality and the work
must be able to move all the time. Because some of you are working with
photography, I’ll tell you that I just had a problem at the Guggenheim
a few years ago. They bought a large piece of mine, which consisted of
1,000 photos and now the photos have become yellow because I work with
plastic paper. They say, “Oh, it’s awful, what can we do?” And
I said, “I really don’t care.” And they say, “But
in a few years they are going to disappear.” And I say, “Good,
they are going to disappear, it will be always something.” They were
photos, large size, but were not fixed. And I put this photo in a big metal
box and people knew that they had two hours to look at the photos, and
the photo becomes darker and darker and disappeared after two hours. For
me, it was funny because you can look at it only for five minutes and say, “Oh,
I wish to look at it for six, but next day, I can’t. I can’t
take too much time, it is the life of the photo.” It’s a little
like people who collect wine. You have a very good bottle of wine but if
you don’t drink it then you have nothing. If you do drink it then
the bottle disappears and your collection disappears. They know that if
they look at these photos, they’re going to kill them. In fact they
don’t look at them.
What can I tell you about my work? My work is more or less impression.
But I work a lot with criminal newspaper, and I have a kind of photo
in the criminal newspaper of people--victims and criminals. After some
time
I forget to tell you who was the victim and who was the criminal because
they have the same place and they are perhaps the same person. In any
case, for me, what I wanted to say was that they are nearly the same
or they
are the same. When I make work I try to say something about what I
believe. It seems to me that because the subject is politics, one of
the things
that we can do or what I try to do, is to be human and not post-human.
There is something terrible, and I think it’s something terrible
for all of us that we try so much to forget that we are human. And for
example, to be human is to die and to kill. I love sausage but it will
be totally impossible for me to kill a pig. Totally impossible. And I think
it’s a shame. I must not forget that I have to kill--if you are on
earth you kill. And now there is something so strange about the fact of
dying. In the old time, for example, people were always dying in very good
humor. If you were a big writer or big artist, there were always the last
words. I don’t know about Kafka reciting Chopin on the night of his
death, but everybody was dying in very good humor. Not anymore. You go
to the hospital and after a few days, somebody pulls the electricity away
and that’s all, nobody has these last words, for example. It’s
finished. Also, before when somebody died it was a big event and there
was a big meeting and a big party and it was a place where people could
meet each other and begin something. You know, the grandfather dies, the
father takes the place of the grandfather, the son takes the place of the
father, and what was important was that the farm go on. But there was no
idea to try and forget the fact of dying. Now we try to forget the fact
of dying and we forget the fact that we become older; it’s like we
don’t want to be human. And more and more it seems to me that the
next fight, and I don’t want to say it because it sounds totally
ridiculous, should be against cloning. You know that what we’re going
to have is a social difference. There will be some people who are going
to die in 140 years who are going to be clever and healthy while most people
are going to be stupid and ugly and dying young. In fact, in that case,
it sounds like it could make some kind of a social difference. There’s
a lot of people in my work, and there’s a lot of unique people in
my work, and the only thing I can say is that everybody is important, everybody
is unique, and we should try to speak about these things. Like you perhaps,
I am half Christian and half Jewish, and for me it was very important to
have these two religions, even though I’m not a real believer. In
any case I’m more and more Christian--that’s why my name is
Christian. I wanted to make a new religion with Christian, my own religion.
You know, you think about people, you think about each one, and for me,
art is something so complicated and there are so many ways to make art,
but that’s my way. I don’t know if you have any questions.
I have an answer. Do you have a question?
Audience: Earlier you were talking about how yourself and many artists
tend to repeat the same issues. And I’m wondering if that is related
to like a Freudian model of repetition, how repetition is a manifestation
of trauma. So I’m wondering, is your work related to some kind
of trauma?
Boltanski: I really believe that very often there’s a problem in
the beginning; there’s something that happens during childhood. It’s
a little more complicated for me because I think that the big shock is
that I was born in 1944. I’m really a child of Auschwitz. There is
something very depressing for my generation. In the beginning of the 20th
century, everybody believed that there was some new utopia, that it would
be better and better. As idealistic as it sounds, there was the idea that
people were going to be more and more wise. But now we know that it was
the worst century, the 20th century was. And also we thought that the science
was going to save us, and now we know that the science is not going to
save us. You know, like mad cow and AIDS. We realized that there would
be no more utopia. And for the European, in any case, the end of communism
was something terrible, because communism was the last universal Christian
Utopia. And we know now that it was so bad, and the end of the communist
was so ridiculous, that I would have to believe that there was another
way. When I was young I really believed that when the Viet Cong died, he
died for something. He died for something good. Now I’m not sure
he died for something good. In any case, there are no more words and nothing
is going to change. People really did believe that the relation between
the people are going to change--some kind of a Marxist utopia, but in fact
it didn’t work at all, and no there is no more utopia, and what is
very difficult is if you have no utopia you are really dead. But it’s
also difficult to have because we know that utopia is also dangerous and
that with utopia you can kill everybody. The people who have utopia are
very, very dangerous, and I can say that the Christian sometimes in history
are very, very dangerous, but it’s nearly impossible to be without
utopia. I think that the big shock for my generation, and I am really an
artist of the last century, I’m not an artist of this century, was
this relation between fascism and communism, for example. And I was never
a communist, but there was this idea that there was this utopia that was
possible. Now we know that it failed. The only thing we have now, it’s
small utopia, is to help your neighbor or to speak with your neighbor.
It’s not to change everything that we know that’s totally possible
and dangerous, but to just speak with your neighbor. But an artist must
be very modest because art didn’t change anything. The Nazis love
Schubert, I love Schubert, but the Nazis also loved Schubert. Art is
not something to change your life. Art is not going to change your politics.
Do you have another question? No?
Audience: I have a question about the Dead Swiss piece that you were
describing. In particular you were talking about it being a universal
representation,
but at the same time you were talking about the Swiss being rich and
a certain kind of country. I’m thinking that on the one hand you’re
stressing the uniqueness of individuals, but talking about how, nonetheless,
your representations of them become universal. I’m wondering if
with describing it as universal, some of that particularity gets lost.
Boltanski: No, the Swiss are not totally universal, that is true. No,
for me it’s some kind of a joke because it is true that it is one of
the best countries on earth, and a country with no drama and no war. For
this reason, the last part of my work is about the shower. In fact, when
I spoke about the Dead Swiss, it was a way to talk about the shower because
there was this idea of so many, so many dead. It was this idea of why this
one dies when he is 30 or why this one dies when he is 44, you know, it
was kind of the finger of God. But in fact, I think it was for me to think
about the shower. I made a piece, you know it perhaps, called Missing House,
and it was in three parts. There was a staircase A, the staircase B and
the staircase C. I did plenty of research about the people that were in
this house--why they die. Not the staircase A and not the staircase C,
and in fact there really is no answer. But there always was the question,
why was this one killed and not this one? What is this thing that people
call the finger of God? Why does it happen? It’s only by chance.
Audience: I had a question about your mention of failed utopia, with
reference to communism. In some ways I’ve heard people on the far left talk
about how the project of democracy is an utter failure as well, and that
in both cases, neither has ever existed in any pure form--neither socialism
nor communism nor democracy has ever really existed. All we really have
are historical frameworks that have been set up to represent these concepts
in a utopic sense, but there’s this kind of superficial assumption
that because democracy is the only thing truly surviving, that it exists.
Boltanski: Let me tell you one thing about that. I think Churchill
said that democracy is not good, but it is the best, or something like
that.
It seems that democracy is not good, but it is the best, yeah. What
is difficult, since we speak about politics, is that in France we have
a
very large fascist party now. One of the big reasons is because there
is no
difference between a Social Democrat and a Conservative. For this reason,
people are unhappy and they try to find something different, and they
become fascist. I think that means it is good to have a Leftist party
and a Conservative
party, and to believe that there is a difference in between. I think
that now you have that--you have a very conservative party but in France
the
Social Democrat and Chirac are exactly the same--the difference is
so small. I think that’s dangerous. And I can say in fact that in
France, the same people who were communists are now fascists--the same
group of people.
Audience: Your work, which seems to deal so much with life and death,
has kind of a life and death of its own from what I heard you say today.
It
seems that you’re more concerned, perhaps, with whether or not there’s
an extra package of sausage in your refrigerator than whether or not your
art dies. Sort of like once you make it, then once the check clears, it’s
somebody else’s concern if it dies. Do you have any hopes of a
legacy for Christian Boltanski? What would that legacy be?
Boltanski: First, if I work it is because I hope that somebody that
I don’t
know in Australia is going to be sad for five minutes; that he’s
going to cry for five minutes. I find it marvelous to be an artist for
this reason because you can touch people you don’t even know--you
never see. That’s something very beautiful. And for my art, what
I hope is that people can do it again in the same way either with my name
or without my name. I made plenty of pieces, I told you, with biscuit boxes,
rusty biscuit boxes. In the beginning I can say they were a little more
close to me because in order to rust them I had to go pee-pee on them,
and for this reason there was some kind of relation between the biscuit
box and me but I used so many biscuit boxes that I couldn’t make
pee-pee anymore so I used Coca-Cola. Coca-Cola is very good to rust biscuit
boxes because it’s very acidic. For this reason now, if I have a
piece in a museum and they loose one biscuit box, I say, “No problem,
you take another one, put some Coca-Cola on it, and it’s the same.” The
biscuit box is not sacred. Nothing is sacred. What is perhaps important
is more or less an ideal or rules for making the work. I made a show with
friends and the show was called “Do It” because of the rules
of the game. There were plenty of friends and the rules of the game were
to describe a word and to make a little book with that, and to send all
these descriptions to plenty of museums. It was possible for everybody
to do the work, to do the piece, but the artist must never to see what
happened. I mean that everyone can play it. But the only rule was it
was forbid for us to see the show. Lots of people have to have some kind
of
rules as to how to do it and they try to do it but sometimes they do
it well, I suppose, and sometimes they do it badly.
But the piece of art is very close to the religious relic. For example,
you know that during the Middle Age in Europe most of the cities were
created because somebody found little bones of a holy person. Afterwards
they made
a cathedral and there was a fair and plenty of people go to pray and
back than go back to the fair. Now if you make a big museum like the
Guggenheim
and you put some famous art inside then the city becomes rich. It’s
the same way now even in a small city. You can put in a Van Gogh and it’s
going to be rich and everybody’s going to pray there. There’s
a very similar relation between how the art is working and the religious
relic. For example, we now use computers. It will be totally possible to
create Van Gogh exactly like the real Von Gogh would. If the people love
Van Gogh simply because of the beauty of the painting, it’s because
it’s a part of a holy person--the holy man touched it. And in my
works, some pieces we can say are more or less relics but a lot of the
works are not relics at all--they can do it again. If it is destroyed,
do it again, play it again. Perhaps also, you know, it is better that somebody
plays it again because it is given new life. I don’t like museums
very much because although they are useful, they are like big cemeteries.
I think it will be better, perhaps, to make a facsimile of the work and
to put the work in the street and if the work is destroyed, no problem.
Why not to make a facsimile of someone like Flavin. It would be a thing
that’s more in “real life” rather than in a museum. There
are weird problems, I think, with videos and this is going to be a problem.
For example, there are some videos of artists who are very good but they
make narratives, like films. In that case, why are there only three copies
when video is a something that you can make as many or few as you want?
There’s no reason. The only reason is the economic reason. But
there is no real reason.
Audience: I was struck by three points that you made regarding being
an artist in this world. One was the act of creating or posing or invoking
questions, which is one of the tasks, perhaps, of being an artist.
The
other is the sadness that you feel, which I share, around the death
of utopian ideals, despite how problematic those ideals or the way
that those
ideals were played out in the 20th century. Nevertheless, I personally
feel the almost necessary function that those ideals had in our lives
in the creation of some idea of a contemporary society. It makes me
to ask,
given those two points that I just brought up, do those two ideas have
any influence on why you define yourself as a 20th century artist as
opposed to a 21st century artist?
Boltanski: There is something that is very strange for me when I try
to understand that the time we are living in is more important than
us. For
example, you can recognize totally the paintings of the 18th century
and a painting of the beginning of 19th century and if I were born
ten years
earlier, I think my art would be abstract impressionist, although I
can say that I don’t really like abstract impressionist art. So when
I thought about that it was really very depressing because when you are
an artist you always imagine that you are stronger than the time when in
fact, I’m only an artist of the end of the 20th century. You know,
in the future we’ll realize it. It will be in a museum, perhaps,
and it will be called “Artists of the late 20th Century,” and
what is very strange is that I am sure that there would be in the same
room other artists that I don’t like so much. But people are going
to say, “Oh, it must be the same artist,” because, for example,
if you look at paintings from the end of the 18th century, it all looks
not totally the same, but there’s something common in all of them.
So there’s something that’s stronger than us. It’s not
only for formidable reasons but it’s also for some meaning. For example,
it seems to me that the minimalist is very close to the communist. Not
in their ideas, but more in their hope of a universal utopia. I know that
the people of the Bauhaus were nearly killed by the Nazis or sometimes
killed by the Nazis, but there’s a relation between the Bauhaus and
the Nazi--it’s this kind of utopia, a utopia that everybody must
to be the same. I mean, I love Bauhaus but in a way it’s very totalitarian--everybody
must live in the same flat, and there’s a place to play and a place
to work. For this reason they were rarely killed by the Nazis. There
was some kind of a relationship because it was during the same time.
Audience: You know, our generation and our parents had a hope for us,
for this utopia. Do you have a hope for another generation after us?
Boltanski: I only hope that everything is going on the way I told you
at the beginning. Two years ago for the 2000 anniversary somebody asked
me, “Can
you imagine what it is going to be like in Europe in 30 years?” I
didn’t answer, but to myself I thought maybe there would be a stupid
war or something.
Audience: You made a comment that I think a lot of us in this room
can identify with, and that was that you don’t like sharing slides because
you don’t like your work in slide form. I’m wondering if
you can talk a little bit more specifically about what gets loss in the
translation
from the experience in the gallery to slides.
Boltanski: What I can tell you is that I really work a lot with the
darkness, with a door, with something, and this will sound very pretentious,
but
with something magical. Something magical must happen. And sometimes
in a stupid or in a very simple way, but something magical must happen.
For
example, three years ago I had a very, very large show in the city
museum in Paris, and it began at the first floor and after some time
you had
to go into the basement even though it was forbidden to go in a number
of
ways but you go more and more into the basement and there was something
physically to go down and down and to see for the first time, a new
space of the museum. You open the door and you arrive in the street.
For me,
the show is a little like a theater play but without actors and without
words, though the spectacle becomes actor. But it is a little like
a theater play. Like theater or ballet, it’s possible to do it again,
but it will be not the same thing.
Audience:
I’m wondering if you’re proposing or suggesting,
rather, that if universal utopias don’t work and they can’t
work, if instead what could exist is the interaction between the viewer
and the art piece. If it is played well, than can that interaction or
that magic between the art and the viewer become a sort of personal utopia?
Can the art then become a tool for achieving some sort of utopia?
Boltanski: You’re absolutely right. I think that art is very important
because perhaps it’s a way toward utopia. I am a teacher in Paris
and I will say to my students, “If somebody arrives, they are going
to think we are in a mad hospital, because we are speaking for five hours
about the color of the sky.” I’m going to tell you a funny
story about madness. I’m very often depressed, but a few years
ago I was very, very depressed, and a friend of mine said, “You
must see a psychotherapist, it would be good for you.” So I arrived
there and in the first room where you wait there was very bad art--very
ugly art. He asked me, “What is your job?” and I said, “I
am a painter,” and I began only to tell him what I am doing as
an artist. I said, “You know I have 6,000 or 7,000 photos of dead
Swiss and I put them on the wall and I look at them and I’m very
happy.” He said, “You have only dead Swiss,” and I
said, “Mostly dead Swiss.” And I have thousands of clothes
from women in my room and I put them on the floor and I walk on them.
And this poor doctor was so happy, he said, “I’m going to
have a very good article about the man and his dead Swiss.” I mean,
if you don’t know the context it seems so strange. After three
weeks I escaped and that was the last time that I saw a psychotherapist.
Audience: You brought up some names of people whose work that you respect
like Carl Andre and musicians or composers like Schubert. Have you ever
felt a similarity in some of the ways that you approach making work,
like having it replayed, having chance be a part of it, having it different
each time, to the ideas of John Cage?
Boltanski: I love John Cage. I really love John Cage. He’s very,
very important in my life as a musician and also because we have the
same time and rules; because sometimes I’m really a man of rules,
and a man of poetry and of stupidity and of feeling. What I love is that
there are some musicians who only have the rules but he has both--the
rules and the feeling. Somebody asked me if there was a book that people
must read and I say, “No.” And I said, only to be nasty, “Perrick,” because
I was sure that no one could read Perrick because it’s rather difficult
to translate. But what I like about Perrick, who is my favorite French
writer, is that some of his rules are kind of stupid while some are very
moving and very emotional at the same time. I try to have the rules and
the emotion. In recent time, my favorite artist in the state was Felix
Gonzales Torres, because it was so moving, so emotional. I’m not
conceptual at all. Everybody’s conceptual, you can’t make
a painting without conceptual, but I’m more emotional.
Audience: Yesterday we were talking about memorials, and what struck
me about you that made me wonder was whether or not you consider your
work to be a memorial, even though some of them, like you said, are temporary.
Like, it takes ten days--you put it up and afterwards it’s over.
For me I think that type of work is more fitting, especially if you’re
dealing with a great hurt, so to speak, for a community or a people or
whatever. Do you consider your work to be a memorial?
Boltanski: I’m sure it’s memorial. I can make a memorial
for not important people, but for people, for everybody. I know it’s
totally ridiculous and I know it’s totally impossible, and that
it’s utopia totally, but I know that in my work I decided to save
people and to preserve people. I work a lot with small memories, because
big memories exist in books. The small memory is to know where you can
buy the best pizza in New York or to know two or three jokes, and what
is awful when somebody dies is that all of that disappeared. I think
somebody said that in Africa when a man dies, it’s a book that
has disappeared. I think it’s like that everywhere. And a small
memory is so fragile. And I know it’s losing fight, we can’t
preserve anything. I like very much Giacometti because he is a man who
knew it was impossible to arrive at the truth. I mean, he was doing nearly
everyday a portrait of his brother and everyday it was no good, and everyday
he would try again. In art there was this idea that we try but we know
that we can’t arrive at it.
I have an idea for a group, I think it’s a good idea. Just last
week I wanted somebody to make a show about exile. But I think that most
of the artists, though they have a country in their head, it’s
not a real country. It is like James Joyce or T.S. Eliot with “The
Wasteland.” It’s like Kabakoff with Russia, because he is
speaking about a Russian country that doesn’t exist anymore. It’s
like me with Jewish, because I’m not Jewish at all. I think most
of the artists must have another country in their head, and we work for
this country, but it’s a mythic country, not a real country. It
seems to me to be funny to think about that, because for a lot of writers,
a lot of artists they always speaking about, I don’t know, a mythic
country. It’s only an idea.
Younger: I have one last question. Do you have some advise for these
young artists? Or something that sustained you through your career?
Boltanski: (Laughing)
What is good and awful when you are an artist is that you really never
know. Sometimes I can imagine that I made something good, but only if
I can do it again. All that you have done is not important at all. What
is important is the next show. What is important is the next piece. We
are always beginning. We begin again. And I begin again. I am so afraid
that my piece in my studio in Paris is not good, and I don’t know.
I think that’s something difficult, but that’s also the beauty,
that nothing is sure, and we always begin.
Younger: Thank you very much.
(Applause)
Boltanski Analysis
by Sheila Pree
Christian Boltanski, who considers himself an artist but not a photographer,
has spent his life collecting old photographs and other discarded items,
such as newspaper clippings, snapshots, clothing, candles, light bulbs,
and old biscuit tins. Boltanski uses these items to create bodies of
work that form memoirs, examining and marking human experience.
Boltanski sees photos as a symbol of human nature. Further, he suggests
that anonymous photos say nothing about a person. Everybody is unique
and photographs disappear quickly like childhood. He states, “We
as adults forget the child inside us.” Boltanski’s use of
the photograph as a central part of his work allows the viewer to explore
memory, loss, and death.
Also, Boltanski speaks of his work in metaphors to allow the viewer to
interpret by using individual collective memory. Death is an apparent
theme in his work, and he claims to preserve life in boxes, questioning
the departure of the physical body. Also, he questions the death of the
utopian ideal, saying that the “human is to die and to be killed.”
Within his presentation, which was not supported visually with slides
or other types of visual media, his message may not have translated well.
For example, he metaphorically used the term “Dead Swiss” to
show the power of the photograph and to create a longing, nostalgia,
and melancholy for the lives of those pictured in the tragedy of the
holocaust. However, the audience may not have comprehended his metaphor
and may not have fully understood his intent because of his lack of visual
reference.
Is it the artist’s obligation to bring visual aid or support material
to an artist talk to help support their argument? When does artwork become
political? Is all artwork political?
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