Showing posts with label Richard Artschwager. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Richard Artschwager. Show all posts

Sunday, April 12, 2026

Richard Artschwager: No More Running Man









[Richard Artschwager]
Richard Artschwager: No More Running Man 
Los Angeles, USA: Gagosian, 2014
88 pp., (20.9 × 27 cm., hardcover
Edition size unknown


"This book was published on the occasion of Richard Artschwager: No More Running Man at Gagosian, 980 Madison Avenue, New York, which coincided with a major touring retrospective of the artist’s work organized by the Whitney Museum of American Art in collaboration with Yale University Art Gallery. The exhibition presented Artschwager’s last series of work, variations on the motif of an isolated figure derived from a photograph—clipped from the Boston Globe—showing a man running through a park during the winter of 1989. Artschwager reimagined the image in several works beginning in 1991 and used it as the basis for this final series depicting one, two, or three monochrome silhouettes repeated or mirrored on plastic or paper. Presented in deep frames, each entry doubles as a sculpture and erases distinctions between synthetic and organic surfaces, the everyday object and the work of art.

The publication includes color productions of the twenty-five works in the exhibition as well as a preface by Bob Monk and an illustrated essay by Robert C. Morgan. The book design features a die-cut silhouette of the running man’s shape on the front and back covers, mimicking the mirrored laminated figures in Running Man (double blue) (2013).”

The book is available from the publisher here for $60 US. 

Approximate Objects [below] is on display until this Friday, April 17.












Richard Artschwager | Hydraulic Door Check












Richard Artschwager
Hydraulic Door Check
Koln, Germany:  Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther Konig, 2002
256 pp., 18.5 × 24 cm., hardcover, boxed
Edition of 500 signed and numbered copies


Housed in an archival cardboard box (21.9 × 26 cm.), the deluxe version of this 2002 exhibition catalogue is covered with the rubberized horsehair that the artist frequently used in his unique sculptures and multiples. The book was published in conjunction with a show held at MAK, Vienna, Austria, from March 27th to June 16th, 2002, curated by Daniela Zyman.

Edited by Peter Noever, the volume includes texts (in both English and German) by Jörg Heiser, Anthony Vidler, and John Yau.  These essays "consider Artschwager's artistic development, the meaning of surface quality in his work, and his place within the context of relevant art movements."

The work is available to purchase for $1000 from Gagosian gallery here. The work is available to purchase for $1000 from Gagosian gallery here. 

The work is part of Approximate Objects, an exhibition of sculptural multiples by Artschwager that is on view at Gagosian’s gallery and shop in the Burlington Arcade, London. The presentation surveys sixteen editioned works created between 1969 and 2012, alongside a selection of the artist’s publications and prints.


Sunday, August 29, 2021

Richard Artschwager | Untitled [Box With Drawers]















Richard Artschwager
Untitled [Box With Drawers]
New York City, USA: Multiples, Inc., 1971
34.6 x 37.5 x 29.5 cm
Edition of 50 signed, dated and numbered copies


Produced by Marian Goodman's Multiples Inc. in an edition of fifty copies, this work consists of a white oak box with a white formica top and five drawers of equal size and shape. Each drawer has a brass handle similar to the kind found on library card catalogue drawers. The drawers contain formica (mimicking the top of the cabinet), a bottomless drawer, glass, mirror, and rubberized horsehair - one of the artist's signature materials. 



"In the fall of 1970, I showed up at Richard Artschwager’s shop on Canal Street in New York City for my first day of work. I was joining a team of artists, including John Torreano, who had been hired to complete a limited-edition object. Upon my arrival Richard gave me a broom and asked me to sweep up. I was glad to do it and glad to have the job. I swept sawdust and shavings into a pile, got a dustpan, and put the bulk of the refuse into a trash barrel. I had started to gather the small amount left on the floor when Richard said, “No, leave it. That will tell us where to put the next batch.”

In the late 1960s Richard was making art alongside furniture in the shop on Canal Street. He had fully equipped his workshop with a crosscut saw, table saw, router, drill press, power sander, planer, and worktables. My job, in addition to sweeping the floor, was to use the router to cut dovetails for the assembly of dressers, end tables, and chests of drawers.

The last art project Richard completed before moving his studio upstate was “Untitled” (1971), a box with five drawers designed and manufactured by the artist and published in an edition of 50 by Castelli Graphics and MultiplesInc. By the time I joined the shop, “Untitled”had been designed, a prototype had been made, and the cutting and assembly process had begun. One of my tasks was to cut dovetail pieces for these drawers. While doing so, I considered some aesthetic questions surrounding Artschwager’s work and recorded my reflections in journal entries. This essay is based upon my notes.

Artschwager’s art is genre bending and paradoxical. Throughout his career he has created enigmatic objects, objects questioning the very genres they inhabit; he has navigated drawing, painting, and sculpture, crossing over and stretching the customary boundaries defining art. His years as a furniture designer/maker informed his sculpture. He used the materials and methods from furniture production and assembly, as well as all the iterations (perceptual, real, and faux) these materials and methods suggested to his imagination. He cut and assembled rational, angular, minimal objects; covered three-dimensional objects with Formica in elegant camouflage; manufactured non-utilitarian objects that looked utilitarian; and created illusionistic and literal mirror images, visual riddles that played with the viewer’s expectations.

[...]

Human beings are inhabiting creatures and we want to know what’s inside. But first encounters with unfamiliar chests of drawers are usually cautious. We never know what we will find. This is one of the suspense principles, the balanced relationship between expectation and the unforeseen. The first encounter with“Untitled”can be unsettling. Is it a storage unit for materials; or is it minimal sculpture, or furniture, or a model of some sort? How does one experience this work? If we open its drawers, are we moving away from or towards the center?

To answer these questions the box locates the viewer, much like the painter locates the viewer by using perspective. In order to truly “see” the piecethe viewer must be in proximity to the piece, closer than arm’s length, and able to open and examine the insides of the drawers. 
Upon doing so, viewers discover that “Untitled”encompasses a series of polarities: open and closed, inside and outside, top and bottom, full and empty, light and dark. These polarities are built into the geometry of the box, conferring coherence. Examining them, followingcontingent steps from one place to the next, the viewer proceeds logically, like Ariadne’s thread, and gains insight into the ordering system at the heart of “Untitled”and at the core of Richard Artschwager’s artistic project.

[...]

The abrupt physical sensation upon seeing the overflowing container of the bottom drawer can be traced to the physiology of visual perception. The drawers preceding the fifth have created an illusionistic experience. The eye has adjusted to distance, to illusions of space and reflection, and to focusing alternately on the field around and through the drawers. The final drawer abruptly pushes the viewer back to the physical, measurable, non-illusionistic, tactile space within arm’s reach. The narcissism of the mirrored surface’s visual expansion is thus thwarted with two strokes of a hand. Closing drawer four and opening drawer five erases distance and illusion, reclaiming the physical presence of material and surface.

“Untitled”provides an insight into Artschwager’s materials and methods, and his exploration of perception, illusion, and tactile and sculptural space—and it does so using an oak box with five drawers. The five drawers are like a five-step visual scale. Each step moves the observer from one polarity to another, from light to dark, open and closed, outside and inside. Composed of ordinary materials—oak, brass handles, Formica, glass, mirror, and rubberized horsehair—“Untitled” invites viewers to construct meaning using their own temporal experience.

Once the viewer examines “Untitled,” the content is carried around in his or her memory. Just as with all remembered experience, memory is never wholly apart from, never wholly inclusive of, always someplace in between. “Untitled”exists someplace in between the container and the contained, someplace in between furniture and sculpture, someplace in between the utilitarian and the esthetic, someplace in between the static and the interactive.

“Untitled”is a hermetic system of thought, deciphered by following a series of steps, much like Ariadne’s thread. As simple and straightforward as were Richard’s floor sweeping instructions to me on my first day at his shop, they gave me an insight into his mind and his complex art. When he asked me to leave a small pile of sawdust on the floor of his shop to indicate where the next pile of sawdust should go, he was telling me that, for him, actions always pose questions about further actions. It can be said that all of Artschwager’s work—in any of its formats—serves as a set of instructions for the viewer, a tool for seeing.

At the Whitney Museum’s recent opening of the retrospective RichardArtschwager!, I spoke with the artist about “Untitled.” I suggested that the multiple could be considered a pivotal work in Artschwager’s career because it contained the material and conceptual seeds of that which interested him. He added, “And what mystified me.”"

- Michael Torlen, Brooklyn Rail


Friday, March 1, 2019

Richard Artschwager | Port






Richard Artschwager
Port
New York City, USA : Multiples, Inc., 1991
50 x 9 cm.
Edition of 50 signed, titled and dated copies

A wood, Formica® and acrylic multiple, with a current market value of between four and six thousand US dollars.







Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Richard Artschwager | Corner Exclamation (in 2 Parts)






Richard Artschwager
Corner Exclamation (in 2 Parts)
Self-published, 1993
upper element: 63.8 x 15.2 x 10.8 cm.
lower element: 14.6 x 12.1 x 7.6 cm.
Edition of 30 signed, numbered and dated copies [+6 AP]




Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Richard Artschwager | Hydraulic Door Check




Richard Artschwager
Hydraulic Door Check
Koln, Germany:  Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther Konig, 2002
256 pp., 18.5 × 24 cm., hardcover, boxed
Edition of 500 signed and numbered copies

Housed in an archival cardboard box (21.9 × 26 cm.), the deluxe version of this 2002 exhibition catalogue is covered with the rubberized horsehair that the artist frequently used in his unique sculptures and multiples. The book was published in conjunction with a show held at MAK, Vienna, Austria, from March 27th to June 16th, 2002, curated by Daniela Zyman.

Edited by Peter Noever, the volume includes texts (in both English and German) by Jörg Heiser, Anthony Vidler, and John Yau.  These essays "consider Artschwager's artistic development, the meaning of surface quality in his work, and his place within the context of relevant art movements."

It is available from Gagosian gallery, here, for $750 US, or from Brooke Alexander, here, for only $180 US.



Sunday, September 25, 2016

Richard Artschwager | Bookends








Richard Artschwager
Bookends
New York City, USA: Brooke Alexander Editions, 1990
17.2 x 16.5 x 10.2 cm
Edition of 50 signed, dated and numbered copies

Formica on wood. Each bookend has a disk in its base with artist's initials, edition size, and year.


"Brooke Alexander: The Bookends came from a specific request from Printed Matter; something that would be appropriate for a bookstore.

Richard Artschwager: They knew that I had made "books" before, so, bookends or endbooks. They have a function.

Brooke Alexander: When you put them on their side - the idea that you can stack them up - turns them into something else. They lose their function and exist only as sculpture.

Richard Artschwager: You want sculpture, you got sculpture.

Brooke Alexander: Or if you want something functional, you've got bookends.

Richard Artschwager: They can live in either domain; in either case it's a book or in neither case it's a book. It's this is book both times."




Sunday, May 29, 2016

Richard Artschwager | Glass Drop



Richard Artschwager
Glass Drop
Self-published, 1969
10 × 4.5 × 3.25"
Edition of 12

A blown glass work produced in an edition of approximately twelve copies, each unique. The above copy is in the collection of the Walker Art Centre.

"You take your tube, dip the end of the tube into the glass and you get a gob there - it's still hot, it's still fluid, it's still plasma - and then you start to blow into that and turn it. You turn the pipe and you heat it up a little and you turn it a little more and then it's pretty well set up like a dumpling and then you cut it off and then it's an entity"
- Richard Artschwager



Thursday, August 27, 2015

S.M.S.












William N. Copley was an American painter, gallerist, collector, publisher and philanthropist, born on January 24, 1919. The adopted son of a newspaper magnate, Copley studied at Yale University before being drafted into the Second World War.

In 1946, his brother-in-law John Ployardt, a Canadian-born animator and narrator, introduced him to painting and Surrealism. After a night of drinking, the two decided to open a gallery and, “in the white haze of the morning after” were both “too proud to perish the thought.”

Copley sold his house, Ployardt quit his job at Disney, and they rented a bungalow at 257 North Canon Drive in Beverly Hills (now a parking lot). A brass plaque inscribed “Copley Galleries” was produced, at a cost of $250. A pet capuchin monkey was bought to serve as a gallery mascot, until it escaped. It was replaced with a cockatiel. “The bird was sweet and tame, and bird shit was easier to deal with than monkey shit,” Copley noted.

He convinced a number of artists to present their work at Copley Galleries, including René Magritte, Yves Tanguy, Joseph Cornell (his first ever gallery exhibition), Man Ray, Roberto Matta and Max Ernst. Despite the stellar line-up, sales were poor, as Los Angeles audiences had not yet warmed to Surrealism the way they had in New York. “I think I sold two pictures. I was trying to sell Cornell for $200. Just couldn't do it. So I went out of business,” Copley told Paul Cummings, in 1968.

Copley’s failure as a salesman led to his success as a collector. Having guaranteed the artists that at least ten per cent of the exhibition would sell, Copley found himself buying a number of the works for himself. For example, he purchased Man Ray’s Observatory Time: The Lovers from 1936, for $500. The eight-by-three-foot painting of red lips floating above the landscape has subsequently been called “the quintessential Surrealist painting.”

After the gallery closed, he remained friends with many of the artists, and became particularly close with Marcel Duchamp, who he was introduced to by Man Ray. “It was Duchamp and Max Ernst who really encouraged me to continue painting,” he recounted.

In 1949, Copley left his wife and children and relocated to Paris, to pursue painting full-time. He held his first solo exhibition in 1951, at age 32. National and international solo and group exhibitions followed, including a solo turn at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam and contributions to documenta 5 and 7.

With his second wife, Norma Rathner, he developed the William and Norma Copley Foundation, with further money he inherited after the death of his father. The organization, of which Duchamp was a board member, offered small grants to artists and musicians. When Duchamp died in 1968, the Foundation donated his final work, L’Etant Donnes, to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where it remains today.

Copley eventually amassed one of the world's most highly regarded collections of Surrealist art, which was sold at auction in 1979. The Man Ray work purchased for $500 fetched $750,000, and the entire lot sold for $6.7 million, a record at the time, for single owner’s collection in the United States.

In the mid-sixties, Copley befriended the Surrealist and Dada painter Dmitri Petrov, then-based in Philadelphia. The pair decided to publish mail-order portfolios of work by contemporary artists out of a New York City Upper West Side loft. Inspired by Fluxus and notions of 'blurring the boundaries between art and life', they were determined to produce high-quality serial artworks which could bypass the museum and gallery system and reach buyers directly.

The plan was to produce a folder, designed by an artist, bi-monthly, which would contain works by several other artists, offered by subscription. Every artist received the same payment - $100 per submission.

Began at a time of much political unrest, the title S.M.S. (unfortunately) stands for ‘Shit Must Stop’, though mostly as an inside joke. Their publishing name, the considerably more distinguished sounding ‘The Letter Edged in Black Press Incorporated’, came from the suggestion of a lawyer. It is presumably a reference to the Country/Folk song of the same name, which has been recorded by Slim Whitman, Chet Atkins, Jim Reeves, Johnny Cash and others.

The loft production studio was reportedly lavish. It featured an open bar, a full buffet regularly replenished by the nearby Zabar's Delicatessen, and a pay-phone with complimentary dimes, housed in a cigar box. The place became a hotbed of activity. “On a given day, you never knew who would show up,” remembers Lew Syken, the project's chief designer.

The place was often packed with students, tasked with some of the more laborious production concerns, such as opening 8,000 letters sent to Copley from H.C. Westermann for portfolio No. 3, or to burn 2,000 of Lil Picard's bowties for the following issue. Copley occupied an office in the third floor loft with a view of West 80th Street and Broadway, and Petrov handled the day-to-day, often round-the-clock production schedule.

While the high-cost of producing the often intricate and elaborate works led to the closing of S.M.S. after a year, the six portfolios they produced rank among the most important Artists’-Multiples-as-Periodicals ever produced.

The portfolios included works by artists both well-renowned and obscure, including Arman, Enrico Baj, James Lee Byars, John Cage, Christo, Bruce Conner, Hollis Frampton, John Giorno, Richard Hamilton, Dick Higgins, Roy Lichtenstein, Lee Lozano, Bruce Nauman, Claes Oldenburg, Meret Oppenheim, Man Ray, Terry Riley, Dieter Roth, Robert Watts, Lawrence Weiner, La Monte Young, and others.

The covers were designed by Marcel Duchamp, Irving Petlin, John Battan, Robert Stanley, Richard Artschwager, and (possibly as a nod to Copley’s previous gallery mascot) Congo the Chimpanzee. The famous painting chimp was also included in the Fluxus Year Box 1, an early influence on S.M.S.

Roy Lichtenstein contributed a folded paper hat. Yoko Ono’s Mend Piece for John was a broken tea cup to be repaired with the supplied glue and three-stanza poem. Deiter Roth contributed a chocolate bar. Other formats included decals, folders, index cards, cut-outs, accordion folds, acetates, pill capsules, games, records, photo albums, and penakistiscope.

Although he only contributed one work to the series (a fascinating folder called The Barber's Shop), Copley presumably viewed the project as an extension of his work as an artist, personally signing each issue ‘CPLY’ (pronounced 'see ply', this was the name with which he signed his own paintings).

In total, 73 original multiples were produced for the 6 portfolios. 2000 copies of each were produced, and reportedly 1500 distributed. In 1981, Copley donated the remaining 500 sets of SMS to the New Museum of Contemporary Art in New York City. These were presumably stored and forgotten, until a flood hit, destroying many of them.

In 1998, in collaboration with Reinhold-Brown gallery, the New Museum offered complete sets of the periodical for the first time in almost two decades. They included the original mailing case, as well as two works that were produced in 1968 but never distributed: boxed audio cassettes by minimalists Terry Riley and La Monte Young. Collectors could also elect to have the portfolios housed in new custom-made plexiglass slipcases.

Most of the information about SMS comes from a slim, 16-page black and white catalogue produced at the time, including some of the oft-told legends recounted above. S.M.S. is worthy of it's own monograph, but very little has been published about the project. It's completely omitted in Phil Aarons' In Numbers: Serial Publications by Artists Since 1955 and receives only brief mention in Gwen Allen's Artists' Magazines. Conversely, the similar Aspen Magazine gets a full chapter in Allen's book.

Aspen preceded S.M.S. by a couple of years, but didn't fully break away from the standard magazine format: Aspen commissioned writers to write about art, and included advertisements. Their format was less conventional than SMS (there was no standard size or approach for their box or folder) but the quality was also less consistent. The strength of the individual issues rested on the quality of the guest editors, who included Andy Warhol, Marshal McLuhan, Brian O’Doherty, Jon Hendricks, Dan Graham and Angus MacLise. While these issues are incredibly strong, the contents of the first and final Aspen hold little interest in terms of contemporary artists’ books, and multiples. (For more information on Aspen, see previous posts, here).

Copley's wealth meant that he could avoid the need for advertising (which itself proved tricky for Aspen, whose later issues did away with them altogether), but the decision not to publish art criticism in an art magazine speaks volumes as to Copley’s vision of what a periodical could be.

The New Museum Shop has some of the individual SMS items still available, with prices ranging from $50 to $300, with the Duchamp cover and works by Richard Hamilton, Yoko Ono and La Monte Young/Marian Zazeela selling at the higher end. They are available at the gallery’s website, here.

A friend has generously loaned me the complete set of the stunning periodicals, and I have been documenting the works individually. I'll be posting them sporadically over the next few months, tagged SMS.


Saturday, March 7, 2015

Richard Artschwager | Fractal





Richard Artschwager
Fractal
New York City, USA: Edition Brooke Alexander
43.5 x 43.5 x 14.5 cm
Coated wood, painted white and black
Edition of 25 signed and numbered copies