For the Forum: Embodied Energy, 2008 june

For a long time I have been thinking about how my art practice can embrace current environmental concerns. Nowadays, industries have to establish a recycling or waste system before they begin production. Contemporary art also has to respond to this reality. I haven’t found any definite answer for how to do this yet, but I will talk about where I am up to.

I believe that the transformation from a conventional system in the art world is one of the key factors when we think of sustainability and art because, like industry, the art world is built on the logic of economic rationalism.

Let’s look at the conventional system of the art world. First, I would like to point out how art is presented. An artist creates an artwork at his or her studio, and sends the work to be installed at the gallery. After the show, it is packed away and goes to storage. The structure of ‘time’ is important. The conventional approach needs time for the artwork to be created, time for it to be seen, and time for it to be stored. These periods are clearly distinct. And the classification of the people’s roles is very fixed: there are art makers (artist), mediators (gallerist, curator), and the audience (who come to see the art works). Usually there is a clear division among them. Within these structures, success for the artist means that 1. The art work is shown in an authorized venue, 2.the work is exposed to a wider audience, including mass media, and 3. the work is exchanged for money.

This money is paid in exchange for the skill of the craftsmanship and for the permanent material. Most of the time, this permanent material is unbreakable, which usually means environmentally unfriendly. Of course, there are many artists who prefer to create permanent art works, for many reasons. It is the traditional role of artists who make long-lasting works using metal, fiberglass and concrete, so I don’t blame them. However, there are many artists who question this approach: considering health hazards for artists and nature, the cost factor and the need for storage space. These factors created an enormous conflict between my life in general and the sustainability of my art practice. I finally decided to find a new context for my art and tried not to be ruled by the structure of an art world governed by economic rationalism. And I decided to incorporate the idea of ‘slow movement in Art’ in my practice, calling it ‘slow art’ to connect it to other movements like ‘slow food’ or ‘slow life’.

Robert Hughes touched on the subject of Slow Art in 2004. He said, “What we need more of is slow art: art that holds time as a vase holds water: art that grows out of modes of perception. …It doesn’t get its message across in ten seconds,… that hooks onto something deep-running in our natures.[1]”

There will be diverse ideas and many different approaches to define Slow Art. Following are some of my ideas:

1. Focus on a process of art making rather than object making. The work always changes subtly, and grows like a living organism.

2. Create art works on site from zero, and use the gallery as a studio. Spend time on site to experience the space, physically and internally. When the exhibition finishes, go back to zero. Seek the meaning of artwork that doesn’t last.

3. Use simple materials and methodology, choose materials that connect with my life.

4. Blur the border between artist and audience. Also try to involve other people in the process of art making.

5. Take time to observe everyday life much more carefully. The idea of the project needs to be derived from everyday life.

Now let’s look at the actual work.

The work for Embodied Energy, My Dear Garden, has been created based on the above concepts. This installation doesn’t have a definite start or a definite end. Even during the show, I came to the gallery to work for a few days each week so it was constantly changing. First I drew my backyard and projected the drawing onto the wall to trace. Numerous amounts of pins were tapped along the drawing lines, and grass from my backyard was woven to create mural drawings. What the audience sees is a process rather than a finished installation, and the audience is asked to imagine the progress. Only a slow process can provide the opportunity to contemplate the unseen picture.

Here are other examples of my works. Breathing Soil (slide)

This is a project I carried out 5 times in different places. I wanted to ask people to imagine the process of vegetables slowly breaking down, and transforming into a force of soil and plants.

‘white nest’ in Moreland: (slide)

This is an outside sculpture I created for the Moreland Sculpture Prize Show this year. I wanted the challenge to create something very simple using strings and pegs.

‘the world is full of mystery’ (slide)

This installation called ‘the world is full of mystery: 20m diameters of my life’, consists of found objects (including things my son made), broken furniture and offcuts of timbers. Strings I used for Moreland show were reused here. All of these I found within 20 metres of my shed studio, where my life begins every day. This is a narrative about recycling, transformation, the environment, growth and waste, and is also a microcosm of my life. It is a process of connecting the past, present and future.

2020? (slide)

This is what I made for the project 2020? organized by the artist Ash Keating. He bought an enormous amount of landfill and invited the participation of a diverse range of artists including sound, performance, and visual artists. I spent 3 nights to make this and finished the day before the show ended. But I was very inspired by this project in many ways. Unfortunately I don’t have time to talk about this project here, but you could find it on the website when you go home.

It may not be a very new idea to use waste materials for art making. Artists such as Picasso and Schwitters incorporated found objects into their art making almost 100 years ago. But now, artists like those showing in this exhibition have a slightly different motivation. I think the urge to engage with environmental problems both as a contemporary artist and as a human being is a strong motivation.

But for me, the most valuable part of Slow Art is that a diverse range of people is involved. Retailers, suppliers of materials, friends discussing the ideas – all participate in various ways with the process of art making. Under the economic rationalist regime, art making is considered a useless activity, as we can see in how art education is undervalued in schools. Perhaps the most positive outcome of Slow Art would be that more people might recognize the uncountable value of this process of making art, through participation rather than only being an observer.

Finally, I would like to quote Guttorm Fløistad, the philosopher and the leader of Slow Movement.

“The only thing for certain is that everything changes. The rate of change increases. If you want to hang on, you better speed up. That is the message of today. It could however be useful to remind everyone that our basic needs never change. The need to be seen and appreciated! It is the need to belong. The need for nearness and care, and for a little love! This is given only through slowness in human relations. In order to master changes, we have to recover slowness, reflection and togetherness. There we will find real renewal.”

I think all the elements he was pointing to can apply to today’s Slow Art movement as well.

Thank you

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[1] Robert Hughes at the Royal Academy Annual Dinner June 2004.