Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac Pays Homage to the American Minimal Art
The legacy of American Minimal art is on view in Monumental Minimal, at the Paris Pantin location of Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac. The exhibition includes more than 20 objects created by six of the most dominant American minimal artists of the mid-1960s: Carl Andre, Dan Flavin, Donald Judd, Sol LeWitt, Robert Mangold and Robert Morris. Among the several iconic works in the show is “Monument for V. Tatlin” (1964) by Dan Flavin. This glowing assemblage of Fluorescent light bulbs references a proposed tower by Vladimir Tatlin called “Colossal Monument to the Third International” (1920). If the tower had been built, its double helix shaped spiral form would have been taller than the Eiffel Tower and would have feature mechanical cars traveling up and down its iron and steel skeleton. The Flavin piece, however, bears less resemblance to the actual Tatlin monument than to the architectural form of a “setback” skyscraper—a truly minimal gesture. Also on view are such infamous examples of high-Minimalism as a Donald Judd “Stack,” a Robert Morris hanging felt sculpture, and a recreation of “Wall Drawing #1176 Seven Basic Colors and All Their Combinations in a Square within a Square” (2005), by Sol LeWitt. The quality and importance of these pieces is undeniable, and yet pleasantly the environment in which they are shown—a brick, barn-like structure full of natural light—lends a sense of approachability to the work. According to curators, the purpose of the show is to “address the many questions raised by the main protagonists of this artistic revolution.” But the selection of works and their presentation raises a couple of additional additional questions as well. It sparks conversations both about the aesthetic debt this movement owes to the past, and about what the future legacy of the position might turn out to be.
A Symbolic Beginning
One of the central conceits of Monumental Minimal is that it explores American Minimal art. The larger Minimalism movement spanned most of the globe. By pointing their spotlight specifically on the American pioneers of the movement, curators hoped to create an opportunity to uncover the European roots from whence these artists got their inspiration. As mentioned earlier, Russian Constructivism was the inspiration for “Monument for V. Tatlin” by Flavin. What may not be as well known is the debt some of these other Minimalist artists owe to their early European Modernist fore-bearers. As the didactic for the exhibition points out, Carl Andre cited Constantin Brancusi as a major influence on the structure of his sculptures, and Brancusi was also the subject of the Masters Thesis Robert Morris did at Hunter College in 1966. Meanwhile, Robert Mangold was inspired by the work of De Stijl pioneer Piet Mondrian, and the Sol LeWitt wall painting in the show traces its inspiration back to the color theories of Josef Albers.
Carl Andre - Fifth Copper Square, 2007. 0.3 x 49.8 x 49.8 cm. (0.1 x 19.6 x 19.6 in.). Courtesy Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac
However, I think rather than just pointing out the geographical roots of the artists who influenced these American minimalists, it is more important to look at what truly differentiated the work the American Minimalists did. The fundamental difference is that artists like Tatlin, Brancusi, and Mondrian were working with a symbolic conceptual universe. I do not mean to say they were making paintings and sculptures that symbolized the real world. Rather, they were inventing new symbolic abstract languages. Their work did not reference concrete “things” but it did symbolize ideas. For example, Mondrian hoped to symbolize universal notions like purity and harmony, while Brancusi hoped to make work that symbolized the essence, or inner reality, of his subjects. The Minimalists in this show may owe an aesthetic debt to those European artists, but that is where their debt ends. American Minimalist art is self-referential. The only philosophy it espouses is that these artificial objects are things in themselves. As Robert Morris said, “No to transcendence and spiritual values.”
An Open Ended Future
What I like best about this exhibition is that it ends with the Sol LeWitt Wall Drawing. Le Witt stands apart philosophically from the other artists in the show. He conceived of his wall drawings, and many of his other works, as proposals that could be repeated by literally anyone. Rather than painting a wall drawing and signing it as a unique artwork, LeWitt conceived a written plan for the work. He described it in enough detail that any artist (or non-artist) who wants to can copy the instructions and recreate the work. The beauty of his instructions is that they do not result in perfect copies each time. Because of the inevitable differences between materials, spaces, surfaces, and the hands and minds of the artists, each wall drawing actually does end up being unique. What makes it the perfect piece with which to end this show is that it empowers artists and viewers to take control over the physical and philosophical heritage and legacy of Minimalism.
Donald Judd - Untitled (DSS 191), 1969. Sculpture, Brass and blue anodized aluminium. 15.6 x 286.3 x 15.2 cm. (6.1 x 112.7 x 6 in.). Courtesy of Paula Cooper Gallery, New York © Judd Foundation / ADAGP, Paris, 2018
This exhibition shows us how in the past minimal art has been expressed as a spiritual quest, a socially constructive quest, a conceptual quest, and, in the case of artists like Judd, a purely objective quest. Which, if any, of those positions are relevant to us today? Can the utopian views of Vladimir Tatlin hold some promise for our generation as we face what seem like daunting social challenges? Can the universalist search for harmony embraced by Brancusi and Mondrian offer contemporary artists any useful guidance? Is there a way forward to be found in the scientific approach espoused by Josef Albers? Or, like these American Minimalists, are we mainly interested in superficialities? Monumental Minimal sums it up: all of these are possibilities as are none of them. Minimalism can have as monumental or as minimal of an impact on us as we choose. For myself, even though it would probably make an artist like Donald Judd cringe to hear this, I feel something beautiful and even something useful from this show: a sense of possibility known as hope.
Featured image: Dan Flavin, Untitled, 1975. Green fluorescent light 488 cm (192,13 in) Courtesy of a Private Collection, Europe © Stephen Flavin / ADAGP, Paris, 2018. Photo: Florian Kleinefenn
All images used for illustrative purposes only
By Phillip Barcio
