The artist is absent
By: Sepideh Honarbacht
Tags: Innovation, Concept, Conceptual Art, Creativity, Art

The Artist is Absent

Wunderkammer Exhibit #4

Collage: Evgeniy Shvets/Stocksy

Conceptual art of the 1960s has spawned a few exhibition approaches that we should take a closer look at.

Between the two lockdowns this year, I had the opportunity to visit the new premises of the Haubrok Foundation on Strausberger Platz in Berlin Friedrichshain. Barbara and Axel Haubrok, who come from North Rhine-Westphalia, have been collecting contemporary art since 1988 — with a special focus on conceptual art. People argue about whether this is art at all — or rather a gesture — and what exactly is meant by it. “All conceptual art is just pointing at things,” said the painter Al Held. The author and curator Tony Godfrey summes it up as follows: “Conceptual art is not about shapes and materials, but about ideas and meanings.” He identifies four manifestations:

Ready-mades à la Marcel Duchamp,

an intervention that brings images, texts and objects into a surprising context,

the documentation, in which the actual work is only visible through notes, maps or photos, or

words that only represent the concept in terms of language and typography.

“During the exhibition”, curated by Axel Haubrok and his son Konstantin, falls into the third category and interests me for three reasons. First: concepts are the core of my work. Second: How do you present concepts from past exhibitions in such a way that they can be understood by someone who has not seen them? Third: Admittedly, I also wanted to see the rooms on Strausberger Platz. A former apartment, two rooms plus kitchen (which is also used as an exhibition room). It is located in a monumental building complex from the 1950s on Karl-Marx-Allee, which was shaped by the architect Hermann Henselmann. This striking place, closely linked to the history of the GDR, is also a setting in Jonathan Franzen’s “Purity”. Favorite novel, favorite writer.

I can get to Strausberger Platz from my home in Berlin in seven minutes by bike. A side entrance takes the elevator to the fourth floor. It smells musty, as is often the case in such old buildings, even if they are modernized, the light is ocher. Somehow I expect men in raincoats with leather briefcases to come around the corner and ask me what I’m doing here. Of course they don’t. The door to the apartment is open, voices can be heard from inside. I have registered for a time slot. A friendly lady greets and equips me with documentation that is tightly printed over several pages and lets me in. I turn right first.

The floor-to-ceiling windows of the small salon with old herringbone parquet are open on this mild September day and offer a clear view of green treetops. There are high glass tables in the room, on which mostly documents and white printed cards are placed. In one corner there is a stereo system playing a sound recording. I had imagined the place would be more spacious, all in all the area should be maybe 60 square meters. Nevertheless, I feel lost for a moment, don’t know how to orient myself.

I’m lucky, Axel Haubrok is there and provides the narrative as he leads me through the exhibition. He knows the stories behind every card and every document. For example, with regard to the title work by Robert Barry “closed gallery” he tells me, that in the late 1960s, Barry invited to exhibitions that were not open to the public. Haubrok raves about the still unrealized “Concept for a Book as an Exhibition Location” (1978) by Barbara Schmidt-Heins.

Hans Ulrich Obrist, however, implemented his exhibition. He asked artists such as Ed Ruscha, Maurizio Cattelan, Gilbert & George, Isa Genzken, and Gerhard Richter to design postcards for him, and in 1993 he exhibited them in a hotel room in Paris where he was currently living — without asking for permission. “Hôtel Carlton Palace. Chambre 763” was the title of the exhibition and its documentation. Great idea. The reproduced cards in the slipcase can be seen on the premises of the Haubrok Foundation.

As I listen to Haubrok, I think: There is a lot in this place that we can learn for exhibitions that are permanently threatened with being postponed, canceled and relocated to virtual space. There is no vernissage, no finissage, artists are condemned to stay away from their own opening event.

If the audience is allowed into galleries, they have to wear masks, disinfect their hands and of course not touch anything. In many museums there were no guided tours as long as they were open, you had to find your way around on your own. The experience is limited or does not take place at all, according to Barry’s motto: “During the exhibition the gallery is closed”. I very much hope not for much longer.

Take-away for innovators: “Not only what we can see and take with us is valuable, but also the ephemeral that we experience.”

Collage: Evgeniy Shvets/Stocksy

These are the findings, that I have taken with me for future exhibitions:

1. Physical experience remains pivotal.

Yes, you can visualize ideas and even philosophical questions. The more complex the subject, the more important it is that an exhibition appeals to all our senses. It helps me to understand when I can walk through a room, look at things and return to any exhibit and relate the dimensions. A lot can be viewed online, but without the spatial dimension it is only half the fun. And — I find it interesting to see how others react to the exhibits, to hear what they are talking about with each other.

2. People make the difference.

Exhibitions that raise questions, refer to connections and want to point out critical aspects are usually not self-explanatory. Even with the best didactics and technical aids such as audio guides and touchpads provided by museums. As a visitor, I take more information with me when there is someone who explains things to me and whom I can also ask questions. A round of applause to the knowledgeable, committed and often entertaining guides! I have learned a lot from them in museums, foundations, galleries, and also at company exhibitions in recent years. They are systemically important to me.

3. Documentation is essential.

Without a catalog or some other form of documentation, such as collected invitation cards, letters and photos, many conceptual exhibitions would be lost to posterity. Some artists may prefer the ephemeral experience. But from the point of view of the public and our target groups, a catalog or a website can be an asset and should be understood as part of the concept. For many artists, the work and the publication belong together anyway. As it should be. Publications can be digital too of course. Think crossmedia.

4. Dada no longer works.

In current times we are constantly experiencing deviations from conventions. Some even seem pointless to us. Under these circumstances it’s no real fun to be confronted with lights suddenly being turned off while you are visiting or exhibitions that remain closed to the public. We can create the surprising and the unexpected by changing the exhibition, not allowing it to be static. Visitors may be invited to participate.

5. Co-curation is the magic method.

This is what the “strict curator” Otto Kobalek did in 1995. It has been documented in a video by Franz West and Hans Weigand, which can also be seen in “during the exhibition” at Haubrok Foundation. At the opening of the “Kollektion West” exhibition, not a single picture was hanging on the wall. Together with the visitors, Kobalek decided on the spot which work should be hung where. This by the way reminds me of the remarkable co-curation project that the NRW-Forum in Düsseldorf started in the middle of this year under the guidance of its artistic director, Alain Bieber: It is called nextmuseum.io. Interested curators could make suggestions via the social media channel Telegram and artists could upload their works. The related exhibition will be on view at the NRW-Forum in February 2021. More about that later.

6. The format will be the ever-tempting question.

Where and how can concepts be made visible? To the extent that cities change and spaces become free, the answers to these questions can always turn out differently. But why not open apparently exotic locations for exhibitions? A hair salon to present the art of hair? A men’s room to address violence against women? Or simply send the concept — the philosophical question — nicely displayed and packed in a shoebox to 1,000 recipients, who in turn provide an impulse and then forward the box to the next thousand — well, what? Visitors no longer fits. People don’t come to the exhibitions, but the exhibition comes to their home. A kind of metamorphic chain staging.

Exciting times are ahead of us in which we can — and have to — rethink and try out many things. Perhaps in a few years there will even be a completely new world of terms because “the artist”, “the exhibition” and “the visitor” will no longer fit in the traditional sense. The boundaries are blurring.