Recently I have been feelingĀ particularly Europeanā¦perhaps in anticipation of my forthcomingĀ and unwanted excommunication from that Community. Comme dāhabitude, I found myself at the Tate Modern to consume Elton Johnās Ā largely euro-centricĀ collection of photographyā¦entitled The Radical Eye. A continuous tone of black and white modernism which fetishised Ā both the 20th century and the virtues of experimentation. Hugely satisfying, it was akin to imbibing the best part of a bottle of port attended by a sharp Manchego and a touch of sweetĀ Membrillo.Ā Unusually, I then found myself tempted, rather greedily, to sample another of the Tateās exhibitionsā¦in the way that one might finish off the evening with a gratuitous cocktail. Thatās how I came to be intoxicated for the second time that day by the freshness and carnival spirit that was the Wolfgang Tillmanās display.
On entering the first room, my senses were assailed by both the scent of printer ink and an almost psychedelic colour palette. Acid lemons, limes and orange alongside deep blood reds and blue-blacks swirled around me like Athenaās Euminides. It was a diametric contrast and antidote to the chiaroscuro of Eltonās Radical Eye. Wolfgang is a long established figure in the Art World, recognised for his diverse practice exploring contemporary culture. He is celebrated, amongst other things, for his mantraā¦āif one thing matters everything mattersā. His work is an exposition of visual democracyā¦there is no hierarchy among his subjectsā¦andĀ represents a voyage of discovery, aligned to a Ā commitment to using photography as an armature on which to hang his own interests. Which include his politics. ForĀ Wolfgang, aesthetics and issues share the same space.
It probably isnāt useful for me to spend a lot of time analysing Wolfgangās entire catalogue of workā¦there is plenty of speculation and deduction already out there when it comes to thatā¦but I am interested in a statement that he made in an interview recently. He said something along the lines ofĀ āthe defining quality of art is that it is uselessā¦so it can be free to be just whatever it wants to beā. Ā I like this idea. Ā That Art doesnāt necessarily have an obvious function.Ā I think itās true. Ā By the wayā¦I donāt think that useless is the same thing as unimportant or without purpose. Art definitely has a purpose. That may be a discussion for another day. But it may be true that all Art and it's analogue, Culture, at it's best, is use-less.Ā Iām inclined to quote Brian Eno, whose definition of Culture is āeverything we donātĀ HAVE to doā. Ā Soā¦we do need to eat... but we donāt need to create Teppanyaki. We need to be clothed... but we donāt need Haute Couture. We need to communicate but we donātĀ need...Love Island. For instance. Of course, Eno has far more sophisticated examples than I doĀ to back his theories Ā upā¦ which I wonāt develop hereā¦ but you get my drift. It is my contention however that both Tillmans and EnoĀ are on to a similar thing. Being useless, and perhaps unnecessary Ā is great because it leaves us, the spectator, free to bring something Ā of our own to the artwork when we observe it. A grace note or a logical non sequitur. Consequently the artwork itself is free to fly in any direction...like a kiteĀ at the mercy of the wind. It may even be that the artwork doesnāt exist until we engage with it. This reminds me of the old philosophical conjecture about the tree that falls in the forest. Does it make a sound if nobody hears it? Can it be proved or disproved? Thatās the problem with Artā¦it needs a witness before it is complete. And then the witness comes with their own individual circumstance, preconceptions, prejudices and experiences. Quite unlike anyone elseās. So I believe that there is no such thing as a single reading of a piece of Art. Only multiple readings. Jacques Derrida proseytized for this. Marcel Duchamp knew this. David Bowie alsoĀ knew this and exploited it brilliantly in his lyrics, which frequently floated between meaning and non-meaning, often by using William Burroughās Ā cut-up techniques, or by deliberate obscurantism. Anish Kapoor is another artist who makes Artwork that at first glance doesnāt have too much to say. It leaves space for the spectator Ā to make of it what they willā¦and that may be nebulousā¦or ineffable. Good art, in my opinion is not result orientated. It may act on the viewerās limbic system, or frontal cortex, or both at the same time .Those Foxes that practice associative thinking may have a more satisfying experience than the slightly banal counterpoint of the Hedgehogs that demand certainty and closure over the balance of probability or the unexplained. Art is not best experienced in the context of binding verdicts or the peer evaluated environment. I myself am trying, through my own work, to make photographs, and more accurately, series of photographs, that are elliptical propositions, open to interpretation. This I think reflects both my Socratic disposition and my own struggle to hang on to the mysterious and poetic in our existence, in the face of Scienceās incontrovertible, dominant, and irresistible primacy over the fields of knowledge, explanation andĀ solution. I frequently feel torn between my desire to understand the world and a corresponding inability to know anything with any certainty. My challenge to myself is to make work that reflects that tension.
Francis Hodgson is a photographic educator, writer and critic who appears Ā to be far less conflicted about these things than I am. Perhaps he is a little better informed l than I am. I think it may be possible that he has acquired a superior appreciation of Art than I have. He has recently written a critique of the Tillmans exhibition at the Tate. Here it is ;
https://francishodgson.com/tag/wolfgang-tillmans/
He seems to be unhappy with both Wolfgang and The Tate, and has taken issue with the stochastic style, form and content of the display. He has written of his concern at the scale, the variety of pictographic language, itās political content, and itās apparent lack of a coherent message or obvious conclusions. He accuses Tillmanās of incontinence. And Ā triviality. Well, I think that he is wrong. In my opinion, Hodgson is a Hedgehog. Perhaps his scorn is a symptom of generational dissatisfaction. He does, after all, rather patronisingly also accuse Tillmans of teenage sentiment. Ā Or Ā perhaps Ā it is rooted in something that we can only speculate about. My feeling is that in an emerging post photography age, a Quantum age, where, in fact, a particle may be in two places at once, that reality itself is essentially indeterminate. That nothing is fixed despite our desire for reassurance. Photography is just one way that we have tried to freeze probability into solidity. I give you The Decisive Moment. But it isnāt so. Reality itself remains open to multiple overlapping and Ā complex Ā possibilities. Ā Bowieās lyrics reflect just this. Attacking Tillmans for not coming to conclusions is missing the point. For me, Tillmans is in the Avant Garde. In the future āphotographyā may no longer be valued as a document at allā¦rather as aĀ type of flow chartĀ for ambiguity.
I think it is a shame that Hodgson has felt the need to be so negative about this exhibition. Not just because he obviously experienced it in a different way to myself. For me it was a refreshing and inspirational moment. But itās much more that I feel there is no need to pin the butterfly down. The artists responsibility is firstly only to himself and secondly to make other people care about his or her obsessionsā¦and then for those people to experience and process them as their own . Itās actually the Incomplete Principle that fascinates us and draws us back to the Art, time and time again.
Ā Perhaps itās even the case that the only way to defeat mortality is to transform all that precedes itĀ into a search for answers. Thatās for the Scientists to deal with. The Artists need only point at the questions.
I have posted some of my own images from the Tillmans showā¦in the hope that they will suggestĀ the joy that I experienced as I navigatedĀ a couple of hours one May afternoon inĀ London.
