The image within
Daniel Buren's work is a strong one, and it is probably one
of the reasons why he is one of the few major French artists
to have achieved an international reputation since the second
world war. The 8.5cm wide vertical stripe, which he has used
continually in his work since the nineteen sixties, marks out
his work instantly. For Buren it has been the tool, or in his
terms more precisely a visual
tool, with which he has negotiated a set of fundamental
issues. For the French public at least the stripe is synonymous
with Buren himself as the maker of
Les Deux Plateaux for the Palais-Royal in Paris. There
is an ambiguous relationship here between Buren, the artist
celebrated or attacked by the French media and Buren as an artist
who has consistently, if not systematically, pursued a problematic
within his work that has important implications far beyond the
extent of his fame or notoriety. To attempt to peel one from
the other is perhaps unwise, if not impossible, because at its
heart Buren's problematic continues to be one of location and
dislocation, a process where he has repeatedly placed the spectator
in a position where the public domain, be it institutional or
social, is a dimension of the work itself. Any attempt to compartmentalise
Buren would neglect to take into account his polemical relationship
to museums, curators, collectors and the media and this in a
way constitutes a work in itself for which the three volumes
of his writings stand as a formidable document. However appropriate
this side of Buren may be within a contemporary context; where
strategies of the sixties and seventies have become blueprints
upon which artistic practice has been modelled for a younger
generation, it would be misleading to consider his works as
affects without considering what is at work within his artistic
practice.
This year sees a series of exhibitions
which survey different aspects of Buren's work and provide an
opportunity to consider the evolution of his practice. This
is important for although Buren is continually at work internationally
on in-situ projects , the
opportunity to relate his work to a historical context is relatively
rare. The need to consider such a relationship is an essential
task when viewing his work. For Buren's in-situ
works cannot be incorporated and understood within a general
category of installation. Within his method resides an ethic
which is anti-spectacular, even anti-theatrical. That is to
say that when faced with a work by Buren a spectator must be
vigilant to the working of the work itself through specific
aspects of medium, material and manipulation by which a relationship
between the work and its situation can be negotiated. This working
method resists instantaneous effects, seems suspicious of the
working of a 'gestalt' that would determine in advance the spectator's
relationship to it. In this way he has been critical of the
convention of the ready-made which he considers to be an element
of a strategy that gives an illusion of reality. As he says:
Another notion deepens my doubts and criticisms with regard
to the ready-made, a notion
that is borrowed directly from a well-established centuries-old
pictorial genre. This genre is instantly recognizable to anyone
conversant or not with art history; it is that of the
trompe-l'œil.1
This statement gives us a glimpse
into the syntax of Buren's method. He assigns the displacement
of an object from one place to another as a manipulation of
material in the realm of the pictorial; materially operating
in terms of a procedure of collage or decollage (to glue on
or to un-glue). To loose sight of the operational terms of such
a displacement is to naturalise the pictorial field - to stage
within it illusionary effects.
In the exhibition,
Daniel Buren, Une traversée. Peintures, 1964-1999, at
the Musée d'art moderne de Lille Métropole, there is a clear
sense of how Buren's relationship to 'painting', like many other
French artists of a similar generation, is a comprehensive and
indeed radical idea of the medium. His relationship to painting,
discipline and medium was one of a rigorous questioning of its
means and its relationship to a social domain. A line can be
traced between the early questioning of painting to the in-situ
works via the concern with collage that appears in the first
paintings of the exhibition. His early influences are marked
by an obvious knowledge of American painting but just as present
is a relationship to Matisse and lesser known artists such as
the affichiste Jacques Villeglé.
The affichistes of the nineteen
fifties gave Buren, and other artists, the link between painting,
collage and construction, processes that would facilitate a
working of the social space through pictorial means. The affichiste
practice of ripping posters from the walls of the streets and
metros of Paris brought a performative aspect with it. The boundary
of the studio was called in to question and the act of decollage
and collage became socially charged as being something between
appropriation and vandalism. A margin between collage as a purely
formal pictorial operation and as a social manifestation was
broached by such artists. Such an interface is a consistent
element in Buren's work - it is never a question of a purely
formal resolution or purely social manifestation.
The vertical stripe as the tool
by which Buren works this interface is seen, in the Lille exhibition,
as the product of a methodical evolution. Until 1965 the works
are very much paintings, often employing collage in their process
and marked by a concern where the limits of the stretcher act
as a frame for a dominant shape that is intrinsic to the painting
and its surface. Frank Stella and Elsworth Kelly's work comes
to mind and are appropriate as artists who have engaged shape
in their work as a specific limit. However by 1965 Buren had
began to buy striped material, more commonly used for shop awnings,
from the Marché Saint-Pierre in Paris. For Buren this was a
way of arriving at a 'zero degree' of the painting where the
canvas and its support would become more present and active
in terms of its relationship to a location. The presentness
of the support and canvas would now necessarily demand that
its articulation with its situation would become a further specificity
of the work itself.
Questions of time enter Buren's
work in this period. A work such as
120 peintures pour 15 tableaux, executed between 1967
and 1981, is such an example. In 1967 fifteen canvasses stretched
with striped material where each given a coat of white paint
upon the outer white bands of the material. The next year the
process was repeated but on fourteen canvases. This procedure
was repeated annually, on each occasion upon one less of the
series than the year before. The sense that the fifteen physical
'tableaux' are effectively 120 'paintings' places the spectator
in a negotiation with the material conception of the work. The
seemingly identical units are in reality displacements of time
through the systematic build up of paint. Such a strategy can
be seen as eliciting a response of self-reflexivity in the spectator.
Such a reading would bring Buren into line with a reductivist
tradition where, especially in terms of questions of painting,
the status of the work as an object is central. However such
a position seems to be far from an adequate account of the operating
conditions of his work. The fifteen canvas are leant and not
hung upon the wall. Their presence oscillates between possible
identities of the tableaux as paintings or as volumes. They
live between a series of specifities that is not resolvable
in terms of their status as objects.
At the same time as the Lille exhibition,
there is another exhibition of Buren's work in Lyon. Mises
en demeures, cabanes éclatées at the Institut d'art contemporain
in Villeurbanne in Lyon is a presentation of a Buren's cabanes,
a species of his in-situ
work that has developed since 1975. While an in-situ
piece is conceived for, and in, a specific place the cabanes
are independent of a particular 'lieu'. The elements of each
cabane are consistent whatever the context they are placed within
but the elements will be transformed according to how they adapt
to each specific situation. There are thirteen cabanes in the
Lyon exhibition. Each uses different materials ranging from
mirrors, glass, fluorescent light, plastic and wood. Each one
improvises around a set of rules where the cabin-like structure
is 'exploded'; window or door like elements are moved out from
the central cabin towards and often onto the walls of the room
which is their 'host'. In the Cabane
Éclatée aux Mirroirs Intérieurs et Éxtérieurs a central
four-sided structure is clad with mirrors. It is set at 45°
angle to the axis of the exhibition space and is enveloped by
a wall structure each side of which has an opening within which
the 'door' has been extended toward the exhibition space's walls.
As projections from what is conceptually the total volume of
the cabane, these elements work as both doors and walls. The
interior of these projections is divided in two parts, each
area being painted a different colour. Its exterior side is
faced with a mirror. The play of painted surfaces which are
both mural and entrances, confronts the spectator at the centre
of the cabane with a point of view where two faces of the central
mirror structure reflect a configuration of the painted walls.
The physical structure of the cabane is displaced pictorially
into the space of the mirror. The inclination of the planes
of the mirrors at a 4 5° angle away from these viewing positions
means that the spectator's image is not reflected in the mirrors.
Each cabane develops a different set of rules and is comprised
of different materials. The experience each time amounts to
the spectator having to negotiate a series of points of view,
having to meet the cabane and the site in terms of a multiplicity
of aspects. The openings into the cabane are a good example
of the extent of this multiplicity. Often the 'door' of the
cabane is pushed onto the wall of the host space. The host wall
then becomes the frame within which the physical structure of
the cabane is conditioned by the pictorial and is thus subsumed
into the visual field. The spectator is thus not placed within
a situation where a sense of the totality of the environment
is apparent at all times. The spectator must negotiate a series
of positions and slowly divine the nature of the structure and
the site. Such an experience is tantamount to a parallax effect;
where the perception of an object is relative and dependent
upon the position it is viewed from.
The cabanes can be seen as sites
within sites. Buren's work in relationship to painting can be
seen in a similar way. Buren's idea of the 'degree zero' of
painting does not present itself as the point of exhaustion
of the viability of painting but is more a question of what
painting is as a potential site of the pictorial. That painting
is also the site of collage and decollage seems to have provided
Buren with a series of possibilities and strategies whereby
he could develop a syntax that extended beyond simple questions
of painting.
Mick Finch 2000
Daniel Buren, Une traversée: Peintures,
1964 - 1999 is at the Musée d'art moderne de Lille Métropole,
Villeneuve d'Ascq, Lille, France, 22 January - 14 May 2000.
Daniel Buren, Mises en demeures: Cabanes Eclatées, 1999 - 2000,
Travaux situés is at the Institut d'art contemporain, Villerubanne,
Lyon, France, 21 January - 21 May 2000.
Mick Finch is an artist living in
France. He teaches at the Ecole des Beaux-arts de Valenciennes,
France.
1. From Au Sujet de...,Daniel
Buren interviewed by Jérôme Sans, Flammarion 4, Paris, 1988 |