Mark Coetzee : On show in Cape Town
Dr Gotz Adriani, in his Joseph Beuys catalogue essay, states that, ”It was not without reason that [Beuys] denied his materials and demonstrations, and even his monuments, any form of permanence.” This exhibition not only demonstrates this point, but unfortunately denies any adequate representation of the artist, loses any interpretable meaning and fails to allow reasonable access.
This seems in contradiction to Dr Adriani’s statement that, ”So pronounced was [Beuys’s] need to communicate, that he made use of every means and medium he recognised as useful from an artistic and socio- pedagogical point of view.”
The exhibition consists of 72 drawings, 18 objects (many editioned) and five series of prints. The objects, separated from what might have been some performance or installation, now frustrate. The frustration of knowing the ”sculpture” of Beuys, accepting his importance as an artist in the 20th century, wanting to catharcise his meaning, but being only too aware, one projects one’s interpretations more from his mythical status, the idea of him, than from the work itself.
The works have meticulously been catalogued, according to size, medium, title and how every object is editioned. But besides the catalogue, which has to be purchased in the gallery shop many rooms away, no introductory information is offered alongside the work. Again the frustration of being denied any kind of starting point.
The austerity of the modernist hanging and the choice of objects, albeit determined by availability and transportation, intimidate the viewer into asking: although we accept the value of this work, and unlike the critics who demanded of his Guggenheim showing, ”Is this art ?”, we demand a curatorial aid to ascertain why it is art.
One cannot deny Beuys’s brilliant printing ability, his sensitive line usage, the evocative materiality of his objects. The drawings are punted as the starting point and recorders of his entire basis and production, the fragments of the happenings’ existences, of the conclusion of these events. But without some video documentation of the actual events, one feels that the body of work is lost.
Celtic, his performance of 1971, is documented on super-eight film, but the reel is sealed behind glass. The 37 black- and-white photographs of Beuys’s studio which make up the work, Cleves 1950-61 are also out of view, denying any understanding of the relationship of the man to these objects.
A piece called, Samurai Sword consists of a steel blade wrapped over and over in a thin layer of continuous felt. A samurai sword is built up by folding and beating metal in on itself over and over again, thus producing an object with hundreds of microscopically thin layers. Here the felt ”swiss-roll” type layers again, not unlike the layers of meaning one would expect to find in this exhibition.
One becomes painfully aware that due to the fragmentary nature of this exhibition, one is unable to view it without the microscope of mediation of the curator.
Instead, one is confronted by Beuys, staring out from behind a glass plinth, his image vulnerable and melancholic. He is without his trademark hat and waistcoat. Obviously, this inanimate object cannot read anything about the viewer on the one side of the glass. One leaves wishing one could have learnt a little more about the man and his work on the other side of that glass.
The educational pamphlet, also only on sale in the bookshop, separate from the exhibition, states: ”Relics left over from past actions nevertheless have an intrinsic character that allows inferences to be drawn, concerning their original function even though, now as objects on display in a museum, they can hardly be expected to reveal the original history and complexity of the action in which they were once a part. Beuys nonetheless frequently expressed his conviction that such objects are capable of ‘prompting the framing’ of questions, although there would be a need for interpretative description as an addendum.”
The curators of this exhibition have done Beuys a great disservice by not heeding his request in any accessible way.
Joseph Beuys is on at the South African National Gallery, Cape Town, from September 5 to October 31