sculpture
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“It’s as if the artist is the animal and the painting is the record
of the artist’s tracks through space and time … I did not want just a
record, but rather the actual movement.”
‘A Thousand Years’ and ‘A Hundred Years’ were first exhibited at the warehouse show ‘Gambler’, in 1990. ‘A Thousand Years’ is acknowledged by the artist to be one of the most important of his career.
In both works, the vitrine is split in half by a glass wall: a hole
in this partition allows newly hatched flies from a box reminiscent of a
die in one half, to fly into the other where an Insect-O-Cutor hangs.
The corpses of the flies inside the vitrine accumulate whilst the works
are on exhibition. In ‘A Thousand Years’, a decaying cow’s head is
presented beneath the fly-killer.
Hirst describes how, having come round to the idea of the validity of “new art” and having made the spot paintings and the ‘Medicine Cabinets’,
he felt he had lost something, “in terms of the belief I had in whether
[art] was real or not.” Feeling the need to make “something about something
important”, and having already worked with flies, maggots and
butterflies, whilst at Goldsmiths, he decided to create a “life cycle in
a box.” The structure was partially inspired by American minimalism and the
industrial materials Hirst had seen in the work of Grenville Davey and
Tony Cragg. The shape of the vitrine drew from Francis Bacon’s technique
of framing his figures within box shapes. Of the influence of Bacon’s
frames to his work, Hirst has explained: “it’s a doorway, it’s a window;
it’s two-dimensional, it’s three-dimensional; he’s thinking about the
glass reflecting.”
Having planned the works for almost two years, Hirst had to borrow
money from friends in order to finance their fabrication. Despite this,
he insisted on making two, “like bookends”.
Throughout his career, pairs and duplicates have remained an important
element to Hirst’s work. He states: “It undermines this idea of being
unique. There’s a comfort I get from it that I love. Each part of a pair
has its own life, independent of the other, but they live together.”
‘A Thousand Years’ and ‘A Hundred Years’ synthesize two forces
central to Hirst’s work: the desire to create an aesthetically
successful visual display, and an exploration into the deep profundities
of life and death. Although admitting to having a “Frankenstein moment”
of horror at the death of the flies, the use of living creatures
enabled Hirst to incorporate an element of movement into the
works. After studying Naum Gabo, Hirst found that the flies successfully
satisfied his ambition to “suspend things without strings or wires and have them constantly change pattern in space”.
The artist Lucian Freud stated that, with ‘A Thousand Years’ being
one of his earliest exhibited pieces, Hirst had perhaps “started with
the final act”. Explaining that, “your whole life could be like
points in space, like nearly nothing,” Hirst provokes a reconsideration
of how we respond to death in the works; the fate of the flies at the
hands of a machine that is commonplace even in vegetarian restaurants,
is rendered uncomfortable by the gallery setting. Of the thematic prevalence of death in his work, Hirst explains: “You
can frighten people with death or an idea of their own mortality, or it
can actually give them vigour.”
by Damien Hirst
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by Édouard Joseph Dantan (1848 -1897)
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Untitled
(2010) by Anish Kapoor
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Constantin Brancusi – “The Sleeping Muse” (1910)
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Letter from Sol Lewitt to Eva Hesse
Dear Eva,
It will be almost a month since you wrote
to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it
though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute
of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You
have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your
shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way
out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling,
bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling,
tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning,
groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking,
piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking,
finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping,
evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching,
grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!
From
your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you
[sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good
“Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real
nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More
nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts,
whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something
inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of
you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your
own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your
fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to
decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even
some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being
stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!
I
have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting
yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the
worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let
everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are
only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your
work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be
anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you
stopped working – then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think
that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!
It
seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go
through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing
Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible = and
hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different
and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on
and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did.
Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads
you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better
if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about
it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling
your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest
of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or
before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on
what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that.
After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can
see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also
must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to
yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand
why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I
can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the
most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power
the ability to do anything.
I would like to see your work
and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen
photos of some of Tom’s new things at Lucy’s. They are impressive –
especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I
guess he’ll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going
and that kind of stuff.
My work had changed since you left
and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels
Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there.
Much love to you both.
Sol
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