The 1st at Moderna: Joseph Kosuth

Of course, what we see is the concept of an art work. Art is not only defined by visual criteria but also by conceptual ones. The levels of representation lead to connotations and denotations that ultimately seem to crash with each other and collapse. Kosuth creates an enigma. On the one hand, he accounts for all parts and we can follow the logical construction. But on the other, the conclusion seem to vanish. What is it I really see? The idea of a chair? A real chair? (And we shouldn’t forget the issue of function and design: Do I love my favourite chair at home because of its symbolic value or because I simply feel comfortable in it?)

And yet, apart from the mind game, I am intrigued by how I can “use” the Kosuth experience in daily life. “Kosuth and Warhol: An Exchange”, specially-installed for Moderna Museet, consists of four parts: A “One and Three Shadows” by Kosuth, a Warhol quote presented by Kosuth, a shadow-painting by Warhol and a portrait of Kosuth by Warhol. The parts evoke the sensation of a hall of mirrors. We see an installation by an artist using a quote from another artist, presenting a portrait of himself by this other artist and contextualising different interpretations of what a shadow can be – both as definitions in themselves and as references to a painting of the other artist. I’m getting lost in the complexity of meanings. What is on display? Who is on display?

Joseph Kosuth “uses”, or should I say appropriates, Andy Warhol. But I can’t help to decode a perhaps somewhat quirky association specifically in relation to the employment of shadows that hint at Plato and the shadow as an emblem for the world of ideas. In Kosuth’s artistic context this can be understood as a meta-ironic comment on his own oeuvre. But the tricky thing is the ending in the dictionary definition of shadow, or, as it says, “shade”: “see VAIN, UNREAL.” The quote from Warhol, “In the future everybody will be famous for fifteen minutes,” adds a complication to the installation. Put together there seem to be wordplay involved. To be famous is something unreal, with a dose vanity. In his art Andy Warhol dealt very much with the dichotomy of superficial glamour and their inner emptiness. Today I would propose we are living in a world in which this dichotomy is valid in many aspects of daily life. The representation of people, phenomena or things, through the filter of communication technology and its spin doctors, creates not only levels of unreality but also opportunities to “fake” reality. The idea of a person is different from who he or she is, just like a naturalistic portrait does not reveal the true soul of the person (as if we could ever know). Anybody can be “famous” without being famous for anything but being famous…

Both Warhol and Kosuth criticise formalist views on art, albeit from somewhat different positions. Truth through objective calculations or divine geometry is superficial. Warhol was a neo-realist who mimicked mass media’s repetitive machinery and desire to “fake” reality with decorative, pre-photoshop, additions. He revealed the difference between reality and simulation. Kosuth goes beyond the superficial barrier by deconstructing the impossibility of proclaiming one truth and one truth only. Who says Groucho Marx is less profound than Karl Marx? What I can learn in daily life from Kosuth’s exercises is to never trust self-proclaimed salesmen of truth.

My speculative conclusion about the exchange between the two lies in the portrait on Kosuth by Warhol from 1974. Warhol “portrays” Kosuth in his typical, patented style. But it doesn’t really say anything about Kosuth, does it? It is with his formalistic trademark Warhol views Kosuth. What we see is an empty shell. I don’t think one should be fooled by the narcissistic appearance of Kosuth himself in the installation. He appears as a shadow of himself. The question is: Does Joseph Kosuth exist?

John Peter Nilsson, curator

Joseph Kosuth

Joseph Kosuth is born in Toledo, Ohio, 1945. He lives in Rome, Italy and New York City. He is one of the pioneers of Conceptual and installation art, initiating language based works and appropriation strategies in the 1960s. Through his work, Kosuth has systematically explored the production and role of language and meaning in art. His investigations into the relationship between art and language, conducted over a period of more than 40 years, have taken the form of installations, museum exhibitions, public commissions and publications throughout Europe, America and Asia, including his participation at five editions of Documenta in Kassel and six editions of the Venice Biennial, where on one occasion he presented his work in the Hungarian Pavilion (1993).

He has received a number of prizes and recognitions, including the following: Brandeis Award (1990), Frederick R. Weisman Award (1991), Menzione d’onore at the Venice Biennial (1993), and the distinction of Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres, granted by the French Government (1993). In 1968 he received a grant from the Cassandra Foundation. In June 1999 the French Government issued a three-franc stamp commemorating his work in the city of Figeac. In February 2001 he was awarded an Honorary Degree in Philosophy and Letters by the Università di Bolognia. In 2001 his novel Purloined was published by Salon Verlag. In October 2003 he was awarded Austria’s highest distinction, the Decoration of Honour in Gold for services to the Republic of Austria, in recognition of his achievements in relation to science and culture.

How did you meet Andy Warhol?

I was standing at an opening at Kornblee gallery in New York, I think it might’ve been a Flavin show, and somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I was about 23 years old then and the early buzz was starting about my work and this thing called Conceptual art. I turned around and it was Andy, and he asked me for my autograph. It was a fairly breathtaking moment for a kid, I must say.

What was the circumstances in which Andy did your portrait?

About a year after I met Andy I was asked by Leo Castelli to join his gallery, where Andy, of course, also showed. I was hearing various supportive comments from Andy second-hand. Many people might be surprised to learn about the support he gave me, and in fact even I didn’t understand to what extent he believed in my work until after he was gone. Anyway, there back in the early 1970’s, Andy made contact with me through the gallery and asked if I wanted to do a trade for a portrait. I obviously agreed.

How did Warhol end up with ‘One and Three Shadows’?

‘ The trade was actually a bit awkward. He expected a piece of furniture like he was familiar with in this series, a chair or a table, something like that. I gave him the shadow because I thought it was perfect for him and I knew it was a tough work, the collectors had all turned it down. He seemed surprised and perplexed. Then, soon after, he asked his assistant, Ronnie Cutrone (who had been a student of mine in my first class at The School of Visual Arts) to bring in fragments of shadows that he had cut off of some paintings that he had been working on. Eventually what followed were his series of shadow paintings we know from the Dia Collection. When he did my portrait he made two paintings, one in the familiar 1960’s style of Warhol that we know, and the other in a new painterly style, which I really didn’t like as much. He was clearly disappointed when I chose the drier more photographic style, trying to convince me to take the other one. But I resisted. Years later the second painterly painting came on the market and I wanted to buy it, but shortly before I could it was purchased by a person who collects my work as well.

How did you happen to do the work using the quote from Andy Warhol?

‘A friend gave me a copy of the Moderna Museet catalogue from the Warhol show there as a birthday present around 1968. Several months later, when I began a small series of works using the quotes of artists (Johns, Rauschenberg, etc.) I cut the page out to make the work using the quote of Warhol. By the way, while that quote is famous now, it wasn’t at all when I chose it. An amusing story is that shortly after I made this work, Carl Andre came by my studio for a drink late one night. He was so upset when he saw this work that he threw his drink at the wall next to it and marched out of my studio, slamming the door. Well, that convinced me! Years later, a student of mine asked me if whether I thought that Conceptual art could be the resolution between Pop art and Minimalism, and it made me pause.’

Curator: John Peter Nilsson