Paragraphs
on Conceptual Art
By
Sol Lewitt
The
editor has written me that he is in favor of avoiding Òthe notion that the artist is a kind of ape that has to
be explained by the civilized
criticÓ. This should be good news to both artists and apes. With this
assurance I hope to justify his confidence. To use a baseball metaphor (one
artist wanted to hit the ball out of the park, another to stay loose at the
plate and hit the ball where it was pitched), I am grateful for the opportunity to strike out for myself.
I will refer to the kind of art in which
I am involved as conceptual art. In conceptual art the idea or concept is the
most important aspect of the work.
When an artist uses a conceptual form of art, it means that all of the
planning and decisions are made beforehand and the execution is a perfunctory
affair. The idea becomes a machine that makes the art. This kind of art is not
theoretical or illustrative of theories; it is intuitive, it is involved with
all types of mental processes and it is purposeless. It is usually free from
the dependence on the skill of the artist as a craftsman. It is the objective
of the artist who is concerned with conceptual art to make his work mentally
interesting to the spectator, and therefore usually he would want it to become
emotionally dry. There is no reason to suppose, however, that the conceptual
artist is out to bore the viewer. It is only the expectation of an emotional
kick, to which one conditioned to expressionist art is accustomed, that would
deter the viewer from perceiving this art.
Conceptual art is not necessarily
logical. The logic of a piece or series of pieces is a device that is used at
times, only to be ruined. Logic may be used to camouflage the real intent of
the artist, to lull the viewer into the belief that he understands the work, or
to infer a paradoxical situation
(such as logic vs. illogic). Some ideas are logical in conception and illogical perceptually. The ideas need
not be complex. Most ideas that are successful are ludicrously simple.
Successful ideas generally have the appearance of simplicity because they seem
inevitable. In terms of ideas the artist is free even to surprise himself.
Ideas are discovered by intuition.
What the work of art looks like isnÕt too important. It has to look like
something if it has physical form. No matter what form it may finally have it
must begin with an idea. It is the process of conception and realization with
which the artist is concerned. Once given physical reality by the artist the
work is open to the perception of al, including the artist. (I use the word
perception to mean the apprehension of the sense data, the objective
understanding of the idea, and simultaneously a subjective interpretation of
both). The work of art can be perceived only after it is completed.
Art that is meant for the sensation of
the eye primarily would be called perceptual rather than conceptual. This would
include most optical, kinetic, light, and color art.
Since the function of conception and
perception are contradictory (one pre-, the other post fact) the artist would
mitigate his idea by applying subjective judgment to it. If the artist wishes
to explore his idea thoroughly, then arbitrary or chance decisions would be
kept to a minimum, while caprice, taste and others whimsies would be eliminated
from the making of the art. The work does not necessarily have to be rejected
if it does not look well. Sometimes what is initially thought to be awkward
will eventually be visually pleasing.
To work with a plan that is preset is
one way of avoiding subjectivity. It also obviates the necessity of designing
each work in turn. The plan would design the work. Some plans would require
millions of variations, and some a limited number, but both are finite. Other
plans imply infinity. In each case, however, the artist would select the basic
form and rules that would govern the solution of the problem. After that the
fewer decisions made in the course of completing the work, the better. This
eliminates the arbitrary, the capricious, and the subjective as much as
possible. This is the reason for using this method.
When an artist uses a multiple modular
method he usually chooses a simple and readily available form. The form itself
is of very limited importance; it becomes the grammar for the total work. In
fact, it is best that the basic unit be deliberately uninteresting so that it
may more easily become an intrinsic part of the entire work. Using complex
basic forms only disrupts the unity of the whole. Using a simple form
repeatedly narrows the field of the work and concentrates the intensity to the
arrangement of the form. This arrangement becomes the end while the form
becomes the means.
Conceptual art doesnÕt really have much
to do with mathematics, philosophy, or nay other mental discipline. The
mathematics used by most artists is simple arithmetic or simple number systems.
The philosophy of the work is implicit in the work and it is not an
illustration of any system of philosophy.
It doesnÕt really matter if the viewer
understands the concepts of the artist by seeing the art. Once it is out of his
hand the artist has no control over the way a viewer will perceive the work.
Different people will understand the same thing in a different way.
Recently there has been much written
about minimal art, but I have not discovered anyone who admits to doing this
kind of thing. There are other art forms around called primary structures,
reductive, ejective, cool, and mini-art. No artist I know will own up to any of
these either. Therefore I conclude
that it is part of a secret language that art critics use when communicating
with each other through the medium of art magazines. Mini-art is best because
it reminds one of miniskirts and long-legged girls. It must refer to very small works of art. This is a very
good idea. Perhaps Òmini-artÓ
shows could be sent around the country in matchboxes. Or maybe the mini-artist
is a very small person; say less than five feet tall. If so, much good work
will be found in the primary schools
(primary school primary structures).
If the artist carries through his idea
and makes it into visible form, then all the steps in the process are of
importance. The idea itself, even if not made visual, is as much a work of art
as any finished product. All intervening steps –scribbles, sketches,
drawings, failed works, models, studies, thoughts, conversations– are of
interest. Those that show the
thought process of the artist are sometimes more interesting than the final
product.
Determining what size a piece should be
is difficult. If an idea requires three dimensions then it would seem any size
would do. The question would be what size is best. If the thing were made
gigantic then the size alone would be impressive and the idea may be lost
entirely. Again, if it is too small, it may become inconsequential. The height
of the viewer may have some bearing on the work and also the size of the space
into which it will be placed. The artist may wish to place objects higher than
the eye level of the viewer, or lower. I think the piece must be large enough
to give the viewer whatever information he needs to understand the work and
placed in such a way that will facilitate this understanding. (Unless the idea
is of impediment and requires difficulty of vision or access).
Space can be thought of as the cubic
area occupied by a three-dimensional volume. Any volume would occupy space. It
is air and cannot be seen. It is the interval between things that can be
measured. The intervals and measurements can be important to a work of art. If
certain distances are important they will be made obvious in the piece. If
space is relatively unimportant it can be regularized and made equal (things
placed equal distances apart) to mitigate any interest in interval. Regular
space might also become a metric time element, a kind of regular beat or pulse.
When the interval is kept regular whatever is irregular gains more importance.
Architecture and three-dimensional art
are of completely opposite natures.
The former is concerned with making an area with a specific function.
Architecture, whether it is a work of art or not, must be utilitarian or else
fail completely. Art is not utilitarian. When three-dimensional art starts to
take on some of the characteristics, such as forming utilitarian areas, it
weakens its function as art. When the viewer is dwarfed by the larger size of a
piece this domination emphasizes the physical and emotive power of the form at
the expense of losing the idea of the piece.
New materials are one of the great
afflictions of contemporary art. Some artists confuse new materials with new
ideas. There is nothing worse than seeing art that wallows in gaudy baubles. By
and large most artists who are attracted to these materials are the ones who
lack the stringency of mind that would enable them to use the materials well.
It takes a good artist to use new materials and make them into a work of art.
The danger is, I think, in making the physicality of the materials so important
that it becomes the idea of the work (another kind of expressionism).
Three-dimensional art of any kind is a
physical fact. The physicality is its most obvious and expressive content.
Conceptual art is made to engage the mind of the viewer rather than his eye or
emotions. The physicality of a three-dimensional object then becomes a
contradiction to its non-emotive intent. Color, surface, texture, and shape
only emphasize the physical aspects of the work. Anything that calls attention
to and interests the viewer in this physicality is a deterrent to our
understanding of the idea and is used as an expressive device. The conceptual
artist would want o ameliorate this emphasis on materiality as much as possible
or to use it in a paradoxical way (to convert it into an idea). This kind of
art, then, should be stated with the greatest economy of means. Any idea that
is better stated in two dimensions should not be in three dimensions. Ideas may
also be stated with numbers, photographs, or words or any way the artist
chooses, the form being unimportant.
These paragraphs are not intended as
categorical imperatives, but the ideas stated are as close as possible to my
thinking at this time. These ideas are the result of my work as an artist and
are subject to change as my experience changes. I have tried to state them with
as much clarity as possible. If the statements I make are unclear it may mean
the thinking is unclear. Even while writing these ideas there seemed to be
obvious inconsistencies (which I have tried to correct, but others will
probably slip by). I do not advocate a conceptual form of art for all artists.
I have found that it has worked well for me while other ways have not. It is
one way of making art; other ways suit other artists. Nor do I think all conceptual
art merits the viewerÕs attention.
Conceptual art is good only when the idea is good.