ruth solomons mres thesis: in the context of precarity in contemporary uk art practice: how can...
TRANSCRIPT
Ruth Solomons
August 2013
This thesis is submitted for the MRes Arts Practice
degree at the University of the Arts London
In the Context of Precarity in Contemporary UK Art
Practice: How Can Artists’ Strategies Be Made
Evident?
Wordcount: 9,820
Not including cover page, acknowledgements,
contents and figures tables, captions, bibliography
and appendices
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Acknowledgements
For their invaluable assistance while I have been studying the MRes Arts
Practice, and while writing this thesis, I would like to thank the following
people:
Dr Paul Ryan, Dr Eleanor Bowen, Dr Jo Melvin, Gustavo Grandal Montero, Dr
Linda Sandino, Alison Goodyear, Dr Kirsten Forkert, Mikey Cuddihy, Phil
Schryber, David Solomons, Rebecca Waterworth, Emma Robertson, Enfys
Jones, Rab Harling, Ben Walker, Lisa McKendrick, Ollie Harrop, and all my
co-students on the MRes course.
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Table of Contents
1 Abstract.............................................................................................. 4
2 Introduction & Question...................................................................... 5
2.1 Aims & Objectives ....................................................................... 6
2.2 Methodology................................................................................ 7
3 Historical Context: Post-studio theory................................................. 8
4 Contemporary Context: Precarity ..................................................... 12
5 Ethics and Judgements.................................................................... 14
5.1 Atkinson & Baldwin: Deontic Statements................................... 15
5.2 Hytten: The Universalisability Criterion ...................................... 18
5.3 Sidgwick: Concomitant Influence and Implied Duty ................... 19
6 Work Ethic and Studiowork .............................................................. 23
6.1 Molesworth’s Curation of Work Ethic ......................................... 24
6.2 Fer’s Curation of Studiowork ..................................................... 26
7 Gillick: The Good of Work ................................................................ 32
8 My practice....................................................................................... 37
9 Conclusion ....................................................................................... 42
10 Bibliography ..................................................................................... 45
11 Table of Figures ............................................................................... 48
12 Appendices ...................................................................................... 49
Appendix 1 Glossary............................................................................. 50
Appendix 2 Critical Reading Form......................................................... 54
Appendix 3 Conversation: Split brains................................................... 55
Appendix 4 Hasty Drawings and Scribbled Thoughts............................ 58
Appendix 5 Portfolio.............................................................................. 59
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1 Abstract
This thesis uses Terry Atkinson and Michael Baldwin’s artists’ book Theories
of Ethics (1970-71) as a theoretical springboard from which to discover ways
in which artists’ strategies can be made evident. Other ethics theorists that are
cited include C. D. Broad, Eyvind Hytten, Stig Kanger and Henry Sidgwick.
Two key examples of curation are analysed: Helen Molesworth’s Work Ethic
(2003) and Briony Fer’s Studiowork: Eva Hesse (2009).
The historical context is formed of Lucy Lippard and John Chandler’s essay
The Dematerialization of Art (1968), and Daniel Buren’s The Function of the
Studio (1979), in order to situate the studio in contemporary art practice.
Concepts of work in relation to art practice are expanded into concepts of
immaterial labour (Lazzarato, 1996). The context of precarity is connected to
artists’ strategies through treatment of my own art practice as a case study,
and through analysis of Liam Gillick’s essay The Good of Work (2012). I also
define the term precarity myself, in order to explain its pertinence to my
research.
Methods of making strategies evident are offered through analysis of deontic
statements, passive concomitant judgements and active duty judgements. The
conclusion details ways in which such analysis could be further developed
through practice, and in relation to Daniel Buren’s essay.
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2 Introduction & Question
Question
In the context of precarity in contemporary UK art practice: how can artists’
strategies be made evident?
In his essay The Good of Work (2012), Liam Gillick describes how precarity
acts as a challenge to practice, and how judgements that result from
ignorance of its influence cause anxiety for artists. My research aims to find a
way to make its influence evident, through examination of artists’ strategies,
and the ways in which practice is enabled by them.
The term precarity is difficult to define in relation to artists, as it is more
generally used to describe the precarious balance of workers’ income
(resources) with living costs (economic pressure). Practice becomes a third
element in this equation, meaning that the variables become more complex. I
propose that these three elements are connected by the following equation:
Resources – Economic Pressures = Practice
Further, I propose that for practice to be sustained, a critical threshold is
required at which resources exceed economic pressures. Situations in which
this threshold is constantly being threatened cause the equation to become
precarious. Thus precarity for artists can be defined as the precarious balance
between resources and economic pressures at which practice becomes
difficult to sustain.
The equation illustrates that an increased state of precarity occurs either by a
decrease in resources, or an increase in economic pressures. ‘Resources’
describes the time, space and materials with which practice can be sustained.
‘Economic pressures’ describes the conditions in which practice occurs: in this
thesis, the conditions being considered are that of the UK, which now, at the
time of writing this, is slowly emerging from a recession in which the Arts were,
and remain, deeply affected.
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In conditions of increased economic pressures, and reduced resources in
terms of time, space and materials, artists sustain practice through strategic
means, whereby resources become maximised in different ways than before.
Therefore the current context of precarity in UK art practice causes strategy to
become an integral part of practice. In her doctoral thesis The Strategic
Studio: How to Access and Assess Decision-Making in Visual Art Practice
(2009), Johanna Bosch describes strategy in art practice as ‘ tactical
adaptation, resulting from a combination of experiences and artistic, personal
and financial urgency, and ‘gut feeling’’. She asserts the day-to-day nature of
artists’ strategic decisions (Bosch, 2009: 37), which makes strategic art
practice all the more interconnected to precarity.
Over the years I have developed strategies that circumvent the practical
barriers to making work, in order to sustain my practice. Such strategies have
become embedded in the hidden processes of the studio, and decreasingly
prominent in the ways I re-present works in documentation and for display.
Therefore, my perception of the influence of precarity on art practice leads me
to take a first-person position in writing this thesis. I aim to demonstrate how
others have perceived it too, and through analysis of such examples,
formulate ways in which to make artists’ strategies evident.
2.1 Aims & Objectives
Aims
I aim to make explicit the different activities pertaining to work in art practice,
in order to make artists’ strategies evident.
I aim to demonstrate the context of precarity in contemporary UK art practice.
I aim to devise a method1 by which the influence of precarity on art practice
can be made evident.
1 This may need more time than is available in the context of this MRes thesis. In myconclusion, I will explain any limitations and formulate suggestions for further research either bymyself or others, to build on what I am able to achieve here.
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Objectives
My explication of the different activities pertaining to work in art practice will
take in a broad range of references including curation of the exhibitions Work
Ethic (Molesworth, 2003) and Studiowork2 (Fer, 2009).
In order to demonstrate the context of precarity, I will analyse Liam Gillick’s
essay The Good of Work (2012), and I will also observe the influence of
precarity in my own practice.
I will apply theories from the field of ethics in order to devise a method by
which the influence of precarity can be made evident. My process for testing
these theories will take in a range of references, including the two
aforementioned exhibitions, Gillick’s essay, and my own practice.
2.2 Methodology
Using Terry Atkinson & Michael Baldwin’s artists’ book Theories of Ethics
(1970-71) as my starting point, my methodology will be to interweave ethics
with two examples of curation: Molesworth’s Work Ethic (2003) and Fer’s
Studiowork (2009). I will extract their respective curatorial motives in terms of
implied and anticipated judgements.
Different methods of applying ethics theory will be tested in turn, with my
question as a guiding premise for the tests.
The context of precarity in contemporary UK art practice will be interwoven
through analysis of Gillick’s essay The Good of Work (2012), and by using my
practice as a case study.
I will use examples from my practice to demonstrate my findings relating to
ethics and Gillick’s essay, and to create a visual response to my research
question.
2 I refer to this exhibition throughout my essay as Studiowork. However, the full title isStudiowork: Eva Hesse. I will expand on the pertinence of the term ‘studiowork’ in relation toEva Hesse, the subject of the exhibition, later in this thesis.
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3 Historical Context: Post-studio theory
Post-studio theory engages with an expanded idea of what a studio can be
understood to be, in the aftermath of 1960s conceptual art, and Daniel Buren’s
1979 essay The Function of the Studio . It is a key context to my thesis due to
the central argument of whether a studio is critically important for
contemporary practice. This rejection, or redefinition of the studio, is further
complicated by the practical barriers to sustaining practice experienced by
contemporary artists.
Evidence of precarity in contemporary UK art practice can be observed in
closely knit constellations of practice such as those brought together by artists’
communities and studio groups. This is the context within which I am working,
and as such has contributed to my motivation to engage with the question
posed by this thesis.
Figure 1 Members of the BAT Pack, photograph by Ollie Harrop, 2011. Formalphotograph shot on medium format black and white film, of Bow Arts Trust artists whoexhibited together at the Mile End Art Pavilion, 2011, set against a backdrop ofLeopold Estate buildings where some of the artists had their live/work studios. (I am inthe front row, second from left). Image courtesy of Ollie Harrop.
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The collective nature of artists’ communities and studio groups enables the
conceptual rejection of the studio to become reconciled with the practical
needs of individual artists. Such reconciliation is enabled both through
collective and individual strategies. As such, it could be said that strategies
evolved due to the precarity of contemporary art practice, cast new light on the
concepts behind post-studio theory: practical considerations override
theoretical ones.
John Milner describes how the ‘symbiosis’ of artist with city (whether by living
in it, or maintaining strong contacts while working outside it) was at one time
crucial to their prospects of success (Milner, 2009: 66). This absorption of ‘the
whole apparatus of recognition’ (Milner, 2009: 68) into a single collective
effort, is still evident in artists’ communities and studio groups throughout the
UK, such as Bow Arts Trust 3 which I am myself involved in, and artist-run
studios and galleries such as Rogue Artists 4 in Manchester, and Bayart5 in
Cardiff.
Kirsten Forkert asserts the sociological importance of the city for artists in her
doctoral thesis Artistic lives: a two-city study (2010):
These places foster collaboration between cultural producers, link
them to audiences, and operate within ‘networks of exchange’
(Castells, 1989, cited in Lloyd, 2010, p.166) … One’s proximity or
distance from cultural centres such as London can thus affect access
to opportunities - which are often secured through informal networks
and so require face-to-face contact (Forkert, 2010: 67).
3 Originally an artist-run studio building on Bow Road, with the Nunnery Gallery on the samesite, and a considerable-sized outreach programme in local schools, Bow Arts Trust has nowexpanded onto two additional sites in Bow and Bermondsey, as well as at one point managingover 100 live/work spaces in local council housing blocks (the majority of these flats are nowdue to be vacated within the next 6 months).4 Rogue Artists is an independent studio and gallery in Manchester which sustains strong linkswith London galleries. I corresponded with them about proposing an exhibition there, anddiscovered their links with Transition Gallery which had accepted the same proposal for anexhibition in London.5 Bayart is based in the Butetown docks area of Cardiff, and comprises of an artist run galleryand studios. My proposal for the exhibition Needle’s Eye (2012) was accepted for arts councilfunding there, which I curated and hung myself, and was therefore able to find out about thestudios and artists’ community connected to the gallery. Bayart also shows the JerwoodDrawing, Painting and Fellowship exhibitions.
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Both collective and individual strategies are therefore evident in the networks
of opportunities and shared resources fostered by artists’ communities and
studio groups.
Daniel Buren’s essay The Function of the Studio (1979) contrasts the studio
against museum, as a place of production, a contrived space for visitors, a
rooted, physical site, developed due to the apparent expectation for artists to
make portable, commercial objects: ‘… the unspeakable compromise of the
portable artwork’ (Buren, 1979: 54).
As more and more work is designed in the studio but executed
elsewhere by professional craftsmen, as the object becomes merely
the end product, a number of artists are losing interest in the physical
evolution of the work of art (Lippard & Chandler, 1968: 46).
Lucy Lippard and John Chandler’s 1968 text The Dematerialization of Art
critiqued ways that art has tended towards ‘nothing’, in terms of not having or
perhaps never being able to achieve a state of ‘nothing’, and the subsequent
implications for practice (Lippard & Chandler, 1968: 50). For Lippard &
Chandler this tendency towards ‘nothing’ predicts a corresponding rejection of
studio practice, in terms of ‘the physical evolution of the work of art’ (Lippard &
Chandler, 1968: 46). I interpret their warning as pointing to anxiety about the
studio becoming merely an outsourced facility or production line, in which
practice solely results in art commodities.
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Figure 2 Daniel Buren, From and Off the Windows, 1974. (Photo-souvenirs: DanielBuren). Image from <http://www.jstor.org/stable/778375>, (Crimp, 1981: 70).
Buren’s essay spoke broadly to artists working in any medium, emphasising
the importance of site. In his essay “My studio is the place where I am
(working)” Daniel Buren, Davidts explains the contradictory nature of Buren’s
wishes, and the consequences of the developments that happened in the
wider movement of which Buren was symptomatic. Buren asserts that the
studio is the ‘first frame’ (Buren, 1979: 53). His essay amounts to a
condemnation of studios as being an acceptance by artists of production-line
art practice (Davidts, 2009: 70). However, globalisation has since proven that
production-line art is present in practices that are not studio-based as well.
Therefore Lippard & Chandler’s warning rings true: the artist must guard
against loss of the studio, whether as a physical site, or any other method of
coordinating the ‘physical evolution of the work of art’ (Lippard & Chandler,
1968: 46). I aim to challenge Buren’s instinct about the studio being
fundamentally constrictive, while engaging with the idea of the site of an
artwork’s making being necessarily integral to practice. Similarly I will respond
to Lippard & Chandler’s warning that ‘the artist is losing interest in the
evolution of the work of art’, by making explicit the different activities pertaining
to work, methods and strategies, in the context of contemporary art practice.
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4 Contemporary Context: Precarity
The term precarity describes the precarious state workers find themselves in
when income barely matches living costs. In relation to artists, precarity arises
more specifically due to a tight balance between making art, and paying living
costs, caused by variables including public and private funding, lack of time
caused by the need for an additional part-time job, or simply the nature of
income from art being affected by external economic pressures. This tight
balance is particularly prevalent among artists working within the current UK
economic situation. For artists like me, an increase in living costs directly
affects the time available for practice. Avenues where resources could be
increased, such as through part-time job pay-rises and sales of artworks, are
closed until the UK fully recovers from the recent recession, which could take
several years. Therefore this tight balance is likely to continue for the
foreseeable future.
Precariousness, hyperexploitation, mobility, and hierarchy are the
most obvious characteristics of metropolitan immaterial labor… It is
worth noting that in this kind of working existence it becomes
increasingly difficult to distinguish leisure time from work time. In a
sense, life becomes inseparable from work (Lazzarato, 1996: 137-8).
This kind of ‘working existence’ rings true for me, and as such was a key
prompt for my research. Working part-time and fitting studio time around that,
on top of many other practicalities, is indeed becoming ‘increasingly difficult’.
‘Life’ intrudes. I have already begun to observe how time pressures affect the
way I am working, through notebooks recording my thoughts, in and away
from the studio.
Immaterial labour refers to work that does not result in production in terms of
exchange or use value in the Marxist sense. 6 Maurizio Lazzarato describes
the subjective nature of immaterial labour in terms of creative exchange
between worker and consumer (Lazzarato, 1996: 147). He emphasises the
6 I am aware that the larger discourse of immaterial labour in a social context would divert mythesis away from the processes of art practice itself, into an area that would not answer myquestion. I mention it here as a preface to Gillick’s essay, in which he infers that practice ofartists and ‘knowledge workers’ are a form of immaterial labour, but aside from that I will leavethe larger discourse of immaterial labour in art practice to other researchers.
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importance of the consumer’s role and as such appears to dismiss a Marxist
approach to labour as having exchange value. Rather he believes it is a
people-based subject shift: ‘a “silent revolution” taking place within the
anthropological realities of work’, formed of individual relationships, in all the
incidents of mutual exchange between workers and consumers (Lazzarato,
1996: 140).
Liam Gillick’s The Good of Work (2012) echoes Lazzarato’s call for a people-
based subject shift, with specific reference to art practice. As such, I will
examine Gillick’s essay closely, in terms of how the assertions of his text
respond to implied or anticipated judgements. Such assertions include the title
itself: the notion behind the word ‘good’ denotes ethics, and as such implies
judgement; the word ‘work’, thus described by this notion of ‘good’, also then
implies judgement. Gillick himself demonstrates the ethical problems of such
an assertion by posing the question: ‘what is the good of this work?’ at the
outset of the essay (Gillick, 2012: 61). Through his interpretation of art practice
as immaterial labour, Gillick focuses on the reasons why artists persist in the
face of (apparently) little or no reward for such work. He presents us with a
precise, universally applicable description of the awareness artists now have,
about ‘theories of immaterial labor’ which ‘have exerted a profound influence
on the starting point of current artists’ (Gillick, 2012: 62). Gillick’s essay is of
key interest to my thesis, in terms of how he describes this ‘awareness’
influencing practice, and how strategies become formulated to overcome it.
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5 Ethics and Judgements
My question’s emphasis on the strategic elements of studio practice, and how
they can be made evident, implies the presence of judgements. Decisions
made in the process of an artwork’s representation (or re-presentation), be it
through exhibition, documentation or archiving, all have their root in
judgements. As I explored my chosen examples of curation and writing, and
became more self-reflexive in my development of the research in my practice,
I began to notice the presence of certain statements and questions which
betrayed a sense of judgements being made. As such, ethics became a firm
theoretical component in my research.
My route into the area of ethics was an artists’ book by Atkinson & Baldwin,
founding members of British Art Collective Art & Language, titled Theories of
Ethics (1970-71). Atkinson & Baldwin’s text begins with a ‘declaration device’
format, followed by Hytten’s criteria, after which they explore a wider field of
ethics theory in a formal academic style. It is essentially an artists’ book about
ethics which crosses over between art-thinking and ethics-thinking. As such I
was very intrigued. Their understanding of the importance of ethics in art
resided specifically in the way they used language.
I sought out Hytten, the theorist quoted by Atkinson and Baldwin, but not
referenced in any footnote or bibliography. He emerged to be a Swedish
scholar, and the source I found was his 1959 doctoral thesis: The concept of
morality and the criteria of legitimate argumentation: An examination of some
recent definitions. I soon realised that this was not available in the UK.
Eventually I became the grateful recipient of an interlibrary loan, from which
point I began to uncover how Hytten’s ethics of language had inspired
Atkinson & Baldwin. Atkinson & Baldwin became the springboard for my
journey through a wider field of ethics, including writers such as C. D. Broad,
Eyvind Hytten, Stig Kanger and Henry Sidgwick, but I always returned back to
their original book as my gateway between art and ethics.
Hytten explains the threatening nature of judgements: ‘I do not threat [sic] you
with my fists, but with the things I may think and say about you if you do not
comply’ (Hytten, 1959: 1). Words need not be written or said: the sense that
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they are even being thought can comprise such a ‘threat’. Like Gillick, I
perceive that artists are working in circumstances in which judgements are
implied or anticipated, judgements which are not explicitly spoken, but
nevertheless exert influence. To ascertain the effect of such implied or
anticipated judgements, I will use ethics theories raised by Atkinson & Baldwin
in Theories of Ethics (1970-71) to formulate my own methods of analysis.
Gillick provides a useful example of an implied judgement in his essay The
Good of Work. As mentioned in the previous chapter, he formulates the
question: ‘What is the good of this work?’ (Gillick, 2012: 61), the judgements
implied in which are expanded as follows:
The accusation inherent in the question is that artists are at best the
ultimate freelance knowledge workers and at worst barely capable of
distinguishing themselves from the consuming desire to work at all
times... (Gillick, 2012: 61)
The objective of such a question might be to find out what may result from
such work. However, the formulation of the question conveys a threat of
approval/disapproval, as per Hytten’s quote above. Gillick uses the terms
‘best’ and ‘worst’ to convey the sense of impending judgement that artists
experience as a result.
5.1 Atkinson & Baldwin: Deontic Statements
The ‘declaration device’, as used in Atkinson & Baldwin’s Theories of Ethics
(1970-71) does not simply expand a statement through a sequence of
‘declarations’: it also proposes itself as a method for practice (Art & Language,
1969: 4). This echoes text which I have written myself in the course of my
practice, an example of which can be seen in figure 3. I propose that these too
might be ‘declarations’, and as such complicit in the method of my own
practice.
Atkinson & Baldwin’s Theories of Ethics (1970-71) opened up possibilities for
analysis of language in the context of art practice. In ethics, words such as
ought, with a notion of judgement behind them, are commonly understood to
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imply judgement. Later, I will describe the implications of the word ought with
reference to Henry Sidgwick’s The Methods of Ethics (1962, originally
published 1874). First, I wish to focus on deontic statements, which also imply
judgements. These are statements where ‘the assertor’ might ‘deny that he
has (or refuse to give) “reasons”, in contexts in which we are “entitled to infer”
that he has and is “willing to give reasons” ’ (Atkinson & Baldwin, 1970-71:
41).
Figure 3 Ruth Solomons, Takeaway tin lid, 2012.
Therefore an ethical analysis of just one of the statements on my work
Takeaway Tin Lid (figure 3, above), could reveal several implied judgements
despite absence of my ‘reasons’ for the statement, for example:
You have to put on a lot of paint to keep it looking light 7
7 This statement is in fact back to front, in the more general understanding of how to keeplightness in a painting: traditionally, adding paint with a light touch is understood to allow therefraction of daylight through its surface, and thus give a light feel to the painterly quality. Bysaying instead that ‘you have to put on a lot of paint’ I was being deliberately converse. Thechallenge implicit in such statements help me think about the limits of paint’s capabilities, in thesame way that holding up a mirror helps me to look at the composition in reverse.
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Here, ‘you have to’ carries the same notion as ought. Such implied
judgements could include:
The painting’s finished quality ought to be light
Paintings ought to sustain a light quality during the course of their making
You ought to put on a lot of paint
In the words of Atkinson & Baldwin, we are ‘entitled to infer’ such reasons, in
the case of identifying a deontic statement. As per the above analysis, my
statements could be seen as declarations that ‘propose… a method for
practice’ (Art & Language, 1969: 4), and could affect, for example, the quantity
of paint I am using.
Figure 4 Ruth Solomons, Untitled, 2012: detail of an unfinished painting. This detaildemonstrates different thicknesses and intensities of paint (and different qualities oflight).
Atkinson & Baldwin’s approach enables me to begin to answer my question of
how artists' strategies can be made evident, and to argue that the agent of a
judgement is ‘willing to give reasons’, and the addressee (artist) is ‘entitled to
infer’ reasons. Statements, such as depicted in figure 3, help me carry
thought-threads between studio days, through their assertions of my
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strategies. I will return to this aspect of my practice later, as an indicator of
how my practice responds to judgements, as well as finding strategies that
enable my practice to be sustained within available resources.
5.2 Hytten: The Universalisability Criterion
Atkinson & Baldwin quoted ‘Hytten’s Criteria’ in their text, followed by a
questioning of whether these criteria are necessary, whether any one of them
would be sufficient to ensure a moral judgement, or even if they are all
necessary. I felt the third of these, ‘the universalisability criterion’, could be of
help to my research, which was described by Atkinson & Baldwin as follows:
(iii) The ‘universalizability’ criterion. A moral judgement must be as
‘universalizable’ as possible, i.e. a person who makes a moral
judgement at t must be willing, at t, to ‘universalize’ his judgement at
least to some extent (Atkinson & Baldwin, 1970-1: 31).
I sought further insight through examination of Hytten’s own writings. He
describes three main senses in which ‘the ‘universalizability’ criterion’ can be
applied. This provided me with a much broader concept of universalisability
than that conveyed by Atkinson & Baldwin. At the risk of losing some of the
complexity of Hytten’s analysis, I will shorten the three senses as follows:
1: Universalisability of attitude to different sets of people or circumstances
2: Universalisability of emotive notions about observable qualities
3: Universalisability as a rational prerequisite based on facts
I will now return to the example of Gillick’s question ‘What is the good of this
work?’ (Gillick, 2012: 61).
These three senses of universalisability enable me to point to the ethical
problems of Gillick’s question as follows:
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1: The question betrays an attitude specific to ‘this work’. The word ‘this’
seems to apply only to contemporary artists working with little or no chance
of economic reward: the object of Gillick’s essay.
2: The emotive notion behind the term ‘good’ is not universalised to all
comparable objects, actions or individuals with the same observable
qualities.
3: The emotive notion behind the term ‘good’ itself undermines the factual
basis of the question, so in the third sense we discover a further un-
universalised aspect.
In short, the pointing to certain people or circumstances by the emphasis on
‘this’ in ‘this work’ is problematic, in addition to the notion behind the term
‘good’, which denotes an emotive sense of right or wrong hanging in the
balance.
5.3 Sidgwick: Concomitant Influence and Implied Duty
A deontic statement, as described by Atkinson & Baldwin earlier in this
chapter, implies judgement, without containing obviously judgemental
language or terms (Atkinson & Baldwin, 1970-71: 41). Kanger describes the
need for ‘some occurrence of “ought”’ in order for a statement to be described
as ‘deontic’ (Kanger, 1971: 101). This concurs with Atkinson & Baldwin’s
differentiation between deontic statements and imperatives: ‘ought’ pertains to
judgements, whereas imperatives merely instruct (Atkinson & Baldwin, 1970-
71: 41).
In the third chapter of Henry Sidgwick’sThe Methods of Ethics , originally
published in 1874, he describes the notion of ought
8
as having two senses:
8
From this point onwards, I will use bold type for the words ought, concomitant and duty, to
emphasise their occurrence in statements, and in my related analysis. Where I use the word
concomitant, I will tend to combine it with the word ‘influence’, to denote its passive sense:
concomitant influence. I will both indicate and temper duty’s active sense by pairing it with
‘implied’: implied duty. This use of the bold type and pairings is to assist readability in the
statements which I will formulate, and to consistently maintain the passive/active senses of
ought statements.
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Concomitant: a collective influence originating from an implied audience
Duty: implying punishment, exclusion, or ‘dislike’ of the addressee
The concomitant sense relies on assumptions about moral behaviour, such
as the moral obligation not to cause harm. The sense in which duty is implied
relies more on the addressee’s fear of punishment (Sidgwick, 1962: 28-9). The
ethical implications of each are quite different: in the first case, a danger lies in
the ignorance of the person expressing the judgement; in the second, the
effect can be to distort the addressee’s subsequent action. Sidgwick’s two
senses, concomitant and implying duty, both imply a sense of ought buried
beneath several layers of social assumptions.
Figure 5 ‘Tracey Emin in her Spitalfields studio’ (original caption) , 2013. Image from:
<http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-2311050/Tracey-Emin-opens-intimate-
photo-memoir-tells-Liz-Jones-past-shaped-lifes-work.html> (Jones, 2013).
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‘Does she work all the time? “I can sit here and sew while talking to
you, but that’s not work, it’s production…” ‘ (Jones, 2013)
9
Amusingly, Emin answers the above question literally, interpreting ‘all the time’
as meaning even now, ‘while talking to you’. I perceive her response as being
defensive against the question’s implied judgement. The context in which the
question is asked has a history of social assumptions, including mistrust of
contemporary art, and knowledge of Emin’s fame and privileged position as a
Young British Artist. Therefore it acts as a deontic statement. Below I have
expanded this fragment of dialogue to demonstrate the presence of such
social assumptions in the interviewer’s question:
Does Tracey Emin, a rich, famous artist who makes conceptual art, which
is not popularly understood to require skill and application, work all the
time?
A concomitant judgement about the collective voice of The Mail on Sunday ’s
readership lies at the base of the interviewer’s question, and a corresponding
duty is demanded of Emin. She ought to be able to justify her practice in
terms of how much ‘work’ she does. Social assumptions about the article’s
readership’s ignorance about contemporary art practice demand this, and as
such Emin’s duty is to demonstrate that despite her (now) privileged position,
she is (still) hard-working.
The above analysis demonstrates how a combination of both the
concomitant sense and that in which duty is implied, are both evident in the
deontic statement: social assumptions can be found to have many layers,
obscuring our perception of judgements. By emphasising the importance of
‘work’ in Emin’s practice, the article distorts both the way her practice is
presented, and the readership’s resulting perception of an artist such as Emin.
The dual sense of ought as comprising of concomitant influence and implied
duty enabled me to analyse the fragment of dialogue from the interview with
Emin, with awareness of her practice in mind. This builds on the sense of
9
This quote is taken from an interview between Liz Jones and Tracey Emin in You Magazine, in
The Mail on Sunday, 21 April 2013. Available at: <http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-
2311050/Tracey-Emin-opens-intimate-photo-memoir-tells-Liz-Jones-past-shaped-lifes-
work.html>
22
judgement which I began to uncover using Hytten’s three senses of
universalisability, as described earlier. However, the method using Sidgwick’s
two senses of ought now seems better suited to answer my research
question: to analyse deontic statements by extracting the concomitant and
duty aspects of judgements that are implied. Therefore I will continue to apply
this method in the following chapter.
23
6 Work Ethic and Studiowork
The term work is commonly used in art. We talk of a work of art, an artwork, or
simply a work. Yet the idea of artists being workers seems at odds with the
nature of art practice, as it is generally understood.
The exhibition Studiowork by Briony Fer (2009) combines the place of work
with the activity of work into a single term. The subject of the show’s curation
was not the works themselves, but the slippage that occurs between resolved
works, and evidence of work processes. Despite using the word ‘studiowork’,
with its glancingly Marxist connotations, Fer was not simply trying to define the
idea of art as labour: she aimed to elucidate activities of making.
The exhibition Work Ethic by Helen Molesworth (2003) applied a pre-set
structure of ‘professional’ roles to an exhibition of primarily conceptual
artworks, in a conscious attempt to describe thresholds of art practice in
relation to work. The exhibition’s curation compared these thresholds with
professional roles, that would not usually be associated with artists and art
practice.
Fer’s and Molesworth’s curatorial methodologies both offer ways to make
artists’ strategies evident. As such, I am led to question their motivations in
curating these two exhibitions, which both seem, to a certain extent, to
address my question.
‘Work Ethic is an art-historical hypothesis writ large in the galleries of
the museum’ (Molesworth, 2003: 20)
‘It is obvious that this is hard to generalise for all artists, but it is surely
worth seizing the chance to describe some aspects of the drive to
make art. The studiowork is work without making a work, which may
end up as something to look at, or may not.’ (Fer, 2007: 24)
The above statements signal that their respective curatorial methodologies
could be universalised to a wider set of artworks. Fer’s neologism ‘studiowork’
is introduced sensitively, echoing the way Hesse herself conferred status upon
24
her smaller ‘test’ pieces by gestures such as giving them as gifts to friends.
Fer negotiates a concept of how all artists ‘make’ work, aside from concepts of
‘production’. In contrast, Molesworth’s proposal resembles a manifesto for all
artworks which elude a more general understanding of art as profession. In
her implication of an art-historical re-write, Molesworth proves beyond doubt
her intention to universalise. By analysing these two curatorial methodologies,
I hope to uncover a range of ways that such curation responds to implied or
anticipated judgements. I think it is pertinent that these exhibitions both apply
ideas of work in retrospect, in an archival reappraisal of works from decades
earlier. Work as a context for practice is emerging even more strongly now, in
the current UK economic situation.
6.1 Molesworth’s Curation of Work Ethic
Figure 6 Roxy Paine, Paint Dipper, 1997. Installation at Work Ethic (2003) at TheBaltimore Museum of Art. Photograph by Howard Korn. Courtesy of The BaltimoreMuseum of Art.
25
Roxy Paine’s Paint Dipper (figure 6) demonstrates a humorous transference of
the traditional role of artist to a machine, which repeatedly applies the canvas
to paint, rather than the usual application of paint to canvas. ‘The Artist as
Manager and Worker’, ‘The Artist as Manager’, ‘The Artist as Experience
Maker’ and ‘Quitting Time’ comprise the four categories used to subdivide
Work Ethic (2003). They attempt to portray the role of the artist in their
process of making, in a way that can be more accessibly understood by the
public. But does Molesworth’s parallel serve the artist? Roxy Paine employs a
system, or the services of a machine, in order to make art, but are his
strategies made evident by Molesworth’s analogy?
The exhibition … hopes to transform the tone of the audience’s
questioning from bewildered accusation to curiosity and engagement
(Molesworth, 2003: 17).
In the above deontic statement, Molesworth states her intention to address the
anticipated judgements of ‘the audience’. She aims to shift their focus from
expectation of ‘traditional artistic skills’ to a ‘larger sociocultural and economic
context’ (Molesworth, 2003: 17). Such anticipated ‘questioning’ is perceived
rather than voiced. As such the above statement presents its intentions as
being in response to anticipated ‘accusation’, therefore the exhibition responds
to a passive, concomitant influence. I could further analyse the word
‘bewildered’ to describe Molesworth’s perception of the ‘accusation’ arising
from ignorance. This echoes the concept of anticipated ignorance of the
collective readership of The Mail on Sunday , discussed previously.
However, the formal position of Molesworth as a curator of contemporary art is
far removed from the informal nature of a tabloid interview. Molesworth begins
her introduction for the Work Ethic catalogue by describing how ‘museums
with collections of modern and contemporary art are haunted by the often
unanswered questions of their visitors’ (Molesworth, 2003: 17). This leads me
to understand that an active duty lies with museums to respond to such
‘questioning’. Molesworth’s aim to ‘transform the tone of the audience’s
questioning’ thus speaks both of the concomitant influence of audiences
(passive) and the implied duty of museums (active).
26
The museum’s implied duty could be stated:
The exhibition ought to engage audiences
The audience’s concomitant influence could be stated:
Exhibitions ought to be engaging.
Therefore, the moment at which the exhibition Work Ethic engages a visitor, it
both fulfils its duty, and recognises the concomitant influence of the
audience. However, I propose that this then distorts the practices of those
artists, in terms of how their practices are portrayed, and how they are
perceived by audiences. In the earlier example of the Daily Mail interview,
Emin’s compulsion was to assert the nature of work in her own practice.
However, her response was also symptomatic of how all artists might respond
to such a deontic judgement, and thus reflects the same concomitant
influence and implied duty as Work Ethic’s curation.
As a contemporary artist in the context of the UK’s current economic situation,
I also perceive the concomitant influence and implied duty addressed by
Molesworth and Emin. My concern is that, consequently, such judgements
affect and distort my practice, in the same way that Work Ethic over-
emphasises an analogy of art practice with professional roles, and The Mail on
Sunday allocates a significant proportion of interview inches to Emin’s
assertions about art practice as work.
6.2 Fer’s Curation of Studiowork
It is hard not to name things. Even nothing is a name of sorts, but it is
not a proper name and that makes a difference … In order to try to get
as near to nothing as possible, I shall rename all the diverse little
experimental things and the so-called test-pieces, ‘studiowork’ … (Fer,
2009: 19)
A neologism, the term ‘studiowork’ was devised to convey the uncategorisable
nature of works by Eva Hesse that struggle to fully separate themselves from
the studio, and that defy assertion of the status of being a finished artwork
27
(Fer, 2009: 24). As such, studiowork becomes a universal term for such works
within the art practices of all artists.
Figure 7 Eva Hesse, Studioworks, installed at Fruitmarket Gallery, Edinburgh, 2009.Photograph courtesy of Fruitmarket Gallery.
In the housekeeping of death, they were carefully packed up and
stored (Fer, 2009: 14).
The process of archiving demands that the curator reflect on legacy: how will
this object, artist, oeuvre, be seen in the future, in light of the archive they are
creating now? In the case of the studioworks, this process was much delayed.
At the point when Fer was beginning to devise her curatorial concept, the
studioworks remained uncategorised. However, I propose that the artist also
reflects on legacy: an archival process that begins in the suspended moment
of their working activities. In practice, works are also ‘carefully packed up and
stored’ in an intuitive process akin to archiving. The following analysis
demonstrates how Fer’s concept of the studiowork enables a parallel to be
seen between archivist and artist.
28
If everybody can accept that artists ‘fool around’
10
with materials, it
may be less plausible to think it worthwhile to track a history of that
very basic sediment of activity within art-making. It might seem too
huge a subject while at the same time seeming too marginal to be
worth the trouble: a history of an impulse to make (Fer, 2009: 24).
This quote demonstrates how Fer is answering implied or anticipated
judgements. Fer attends both to the artist (in terms of their working methods)
and the museum (in terms of engaging the audience). I will analyse the above
two sentences in terms of concomitant influence and implied duty, as
explored previously in relation to Molesworth’s Work Ethic.
The concomitant influence of the audience sits within a range defined at one
end by ‘if everybody can accept’ and at the other by ‘less plausible to think it
worthwhile’. This range implies an increase towards being ‘worthwhile’. By
applying Molesworth’s sense of the audience’s expectation for the museum to
be engaging, I interpret that there are two concomitant influences upon Fer’s
curation. The first refers simply to artists’ methods, and the second is once
removed, referring to Fer’s method for describing artists’ methods:
The way artists use materials ought to be acceptable.
Fer’s method of describing the way artists use materials ought to be
plausible.
Fer asserts the museum’s duty as sitting within a range defined by ‘too huge a
subject’ at one end, and ‘too marginal to be worth the trouble’ at the other. I
interpret that Fer perceives judgement at both ends of this range, both apart
and co-existing at the same time. Following the same process as above, this
time in terms of Molesworth’s sense of the duty of the museum, two
statements can also be formed. However, now Fer’s opposing poles are
describing what the museum ought not to do:
10
The phrase ‘fool around’ refers to comments made by Sol Lewitt about uncategorisable works
by Eva Hesse in the Berkley Art Museum archive, ranging between the seemingly flippant ‘“I
think in the beginning she was just fooling around”’ and the more measured ‘“studio
leavings/experimental/little pieces/molds to make pieces out of/unresolved - unfinished pieces”’.
These quotes were taken from a transcript of a meeting between Sol Lewitt, Carol Androccio,
Connie Lewallen and Elise Goldstein at Berkeley Art Museum, CA, 17 November 1981 (in Fer,
2009, pp.14-15).
29
The museum ought not to tackle a subject that is too huge.
The museum ought not to bother with a marginal subject.
Fer’s response to the former concomitant judgements can be found in her
assertion of the studiowork being the ‘very basic sediment of activity within art-
making’. The duty judgements are answered in her articulation of how
Studiowork (2009) elicits ‘a history of an impulse to make’. The ‘studiowork’
thus signals archival awareness in both the artist and the museum.
The two sentences of Fer’s quote also echo each other in their repetition of
the words ‘worth’ and ‘history’. Here I detect Fer’s aim to align these two
concepts through her archival approach. The pedestal on which Fer’s concept
of studiowork placed previously unapplauded works was highlighted by many
observers of this exhibition, as is evident in the following quote from a review
of the exhibition:
Because these objects haven’t been shown in public – most were
given to the Berkley Art Museum by Hesse’s sister – we see them as
somehow lesser … their status as artworks is far from secure
(Darwent, 2009).
Darwent draws attention to the fact that these works had been ‘given’, later
describing that ‘status’ as being at odds with the ‘act of museologising’
associated with artists of such ‘greatness’ (Darwent, 2009). In Studiowork,
Hesse’s ‘greatness’ is asserted by the archival function of the museum, rather
than by the financial system of the art market, which also influences museums’
motives for exhibitions. Fer intends the worth of the studioworks to be
recorded in terms of new knowledge and legacy (history). It is this sense of
archival worth that Fer wishes to convey: worth that extends beyond the
market value of artworks, beyond Hesse’s legacy alone, into the unfolding
future archive of all such works, and the broader field of making and art
practice within which such works function. This ‘very basic sediment of activity
within art-making’ becomes an integral part of the newly asserted ‘history of an
impulse to make’, in the broadest possible way.
30
Fer’s sense of archival worth relates both to the artist and the museum, as
both are able to discover new knowledge and legacy within artworks through
the studiowork lens. Thus, Studiowork bridges the gap between the curatorial
drive of Molesworth’s Work Ethic, and an individual artist’s approach to art
practice.
This relates to the equation which I formulated in my introduction, which I will
re-state here:
Resources – Economic Pressures = Practice
Figure 8 Ruth Solomons, Various works in the studio , 2013
In the above image my work is displayed both framed and unframed; some
are wall-mounted, and some are leaning on the floor in ways that suggest
decision-making processes. The framed works are drawings on backs of
envelopes, quick annotated sketches on a material that would usually be
thrown away. However the contrast in their seeming material worth, to the
more traditional-seeming charcoal drawings on cartridge paper (to the left),
and to the bubble-wrapped paintings on canvas and board (to the right, behind
the wall), seems relevant here. This image displays examples of different
31
types of archiving by artists, and so demonstrates awareness of perceived
worth and status of artworks as beginning in the studio.
In the context of precarity, I would then state that distribution of resources
within practice reflects the archival decisions of the artist, within their available
means. The relationship between distributions of resources and their resulting
archived practices, can be demonstrated using the above equation, adapted
as follows:
Distribution of resources – Economic Pressures = Archived practice
Earlier, I qualified the former equation by stating that for practice to be
sustained, a critical threshold is required at which resources exceed economic
pressures. Here, a situation where the equation becomes precarious, could
result in an ‘archived practice’ that does not display the expected ‘distribution
of resources’, such as framing, or working with traditional artists’ materials. In
figure 8, I have mismatched the two, by investing a sense of archival worth
(through framing) into works made with less formal materials, within the
context of my practice. The strategies by which artists’ archival intentions are
implemented may be difficult to interpret by a museum curator, archivist, or
other agent of documentation. Fer’s concept of the studiowork contributes a
more nuanced insight to this field of the archived practice, and as such I
consider it a useful tool with which to describe artists’ strategies, particularly
with reference to the current context of precarity in contemporary UK art
practice.
32
7 Gillick: The Good of Work
The Good of Work by Liam Gillick (2012) describes the nature and possible
causes of artists’ anxiety about working without reward, with particular
reference to the ways this anxiety affects art practice. Gillick explores the ‘why’
version of my question: why do artists undertake practical strategies? I on the
other hand am looking at what strategies they evolve, and how they can be
made evident.
Artists exist in the professional realm (as they require income), yet they are
also ‘knowledge workers’ (Gillick, 2012: 62). The idea of knowledge exchange,
a form of immaterial labour, is readily accepted in an academic context.
However, translated to the professional realm, such exchanges are less
readily accepted as ‘work’. This echoes my own experience of contemporary
UK art practice, and draws attention to precarity as a key current context.
Gillick formulates the following question, as an example of the implied
judgements which artists perceive:
What is the good of this work? (Gillick, 2012: 61)
By articulating the response of artists in terms of ‘anxiety’, Gillick describes the
emotive impact resulting from this sort of ‘work’ being challenged, or even
simply not accepted. The following list describes a network of identities for
practice, by which Gillick aims to respond to the judgements implied in such
questions:
‘Leisure’ is not simply a counter-activity to work: for the artist it may be
‘adopted … to openly counter notions of labor as sites of dignity and
innovation …’ (Gillick, 2012: 63).
‘Self-enforced isolation’ is a key response by many contemporary artists,
and can take the form of co-opting other working models, or withdrawing
from production altogether (Gillick, 2012: 64).
‘Creation of one’s own deadlines’ to present an acceptable structure of
working practice is a mask devised to deflect accusations of not working
(Gillick, 2012: 66).
33
Art is a ‘lived experience, for the artist as much as for the viewer’: work is
one of many layers of activity in art practice (Gillick, 2012: 71).
‘Working alone but in a group’ entails collaboration of individuals, but does
not have to imply an artist’s consensus with a majority (Gillick, 2012: 72-
73).
By applying the ethical notion of ‘good’ alongside analysis of Gillick’s network
of identities, I aim to articulate the nature of artists’ strategies in relation to
‘work’.
Sidgwick devotes a whole chapter to ‘good’, positioning it as an ethical
concept in itself, as a notion equable to ‘desire’. He differentiates between
ideas of ‘what ought to be desired’, and ‘what would be desired’ (Sidgwick,
1962: 110-111). ‘Good’ is proposed to be a variable concept, with a passive
sense which I connect here with the concomitant sense of we, discussed
previously in relation to concepts of the audience’s expectations. In the
context of Gillick’s essay, ‘good’ could be articulated as follows:
The good is what we would desire in work.
Broad critiques Sidgwick’s concept of ‘good’, contradicting his assertion that
what we would desire is necessarily good. Term such as ‘ right, wrong, ought,
good, bad’ are all their own lowest denominators (Broad, 1930: 145). This
leads him to examine the relationship between the terms good and right, 11 as
absolute notions in themselves.
It is surely possible that both “good” and “right” are indefinable, as
both “shape” and “size” are, and yet that there is a synthetic,
necessary, and mutual relation between them, as there is between
shape and size. (Broad, 1930: 176-7)
I also made the connection between good and right in my earlier chapter
about universalisability; the term good denoting an emotive sense of right or
11
For this section of the thesis, I will use bold type for the words good and right. This
is to emphasise their occurrence in statements that I develop through my analysis.
34
wrong hanging in the balance. This emotive sense relates to Sidgwick’s
concept of good as concomitant desire. I will now develop the relationship
between good and right by offering another version of Gillick’s question:
Is it right to work like this?
If good is to be equated with ‘shape’, and right with ‘size’, then by abduction I
would propose that good is a variable concept, whereas right is an absolute.
The emotive sense of good in the concomitant sense of desire is what
makes it variable. Therefore ‘right’ is perhaps non-emotive, non-negotiable,
and this is where the sense of judgement hanging in the balance really
resides. In the above question, right could be interpreted to mean:
It is right to work in the way that we would desire.
Figure 9 Ruth Solomons, Back of Envelope Drawing 14 , 2013. Pen on back of
envelope.
In my painting practice, shape is a variable within my decision-making
processes, as demonstrated in Back of Envelope Drawing 14 , above. Shapes
can be moved between paintings through various methods of transposition:
tracing, projecting, copying across. Size however is often pre-defined by the
boundaries of the painting surface, the tracing paper, the distance of the
projector away from the wall. Yet the two are inextricably connected. The act
35
of taping a fixed-size piece of tracing paper onto a painting to try out a new
positioning of a shape, helps me visualise the connection Broad makes
between good and right.
I attempted to visualise some of Gillick’s network of artistic identities in relation
to my back of envelope drawing:
Figure 10 Diagram over Back of Envelope Drawing 14
What is the lived experience of visualising these shapes?
Is the tracing paper the right size to enable visualisation?
I developed the above questions to demonstrate the range of query that I
perceive in Gillick’s question. Gillick’s response to the implied accusation in
‘what is the good of this work?’ (Gillick, 2012: 61), is to demonstrate the
network of identities an artist exists within, and how ‘work’ fits into all the
branches of that network. Therefore a possible way of answering my research
question, of how to make strategies evident, is through articulation of networks
of artists’ identities. The above process leads me to conclude that the
following judgement is anticipated by my practice:
You ought to use the right size tracing paper.
36
The lived experience of visualising shapes in my practice is thus reduced to a
perceived judgement about the way in which I’m working. The comparison of
the two relationships, between good and right, and shape and size, is
demonstrated through the process by which I developed the above judgement.
By basing this process on a visual method, the relationships can perhaps be
perceived visually. However, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it is my instinct
to connect the terms good and shape to practice, and right and size to
judgements about artworks. This process has many layers of implication for
practice, and for making artists’ strategies evident. I feel that it would be fruitful
to test more rigorously the relationship between these term at a future date.
Therefore this application of ethics in relation to emotive notions behind terms,
in relation to their more judgemental counterparts, such as between good and
right, could evolve into a method for discovering the effect of judgements on
artists’ practices.
Gillick’s sense of ‘lived experience’ (Gillick, 2012: 71) particularly resonates
with my sense of artists’ strategies relating to resources as well as practice.
Therefore I feel that Gillick’s identities for practice go some way to answering
my research question. These are key examples of the range of ways in which
art practice can be portrayed, when attempts are made to make artists’
strategies evident.
37
8 My practice
The changeable nature of the studio and the materials I’m working with mean
that it is not a self-contained site of activity: in the context of precarity my
practice becomes a more ‘lived experience’ (Gillick, 2012: 71). I began a
notebook as a conduit for thoughts had both in and away from the studio, to
create a record of the ways that thought-threads were sustained. The format
of the notebook was as a series of anecdotal thought-occurrences.
Figure 11 Ruth Solomons, Notebook 18/4/13, 2013. Page from notebook.
In entries made away from the studio, I recalled details that I had previously
thought reconciled in my decision-making processes. A simple method for
constructing wooden panels, revealed imperfections once they were glued
together (as described in figure 11). In the studio, I had been able to visually
reconcile these ‘mis-matched’ edges through my intentions for the painting
process that would follow. However, away from the studio, I lacked this visual
method of measuring and judging details. Such mis-remembering, or anxiety
38
from not having these objects visually present while my thought process
continues, becomes linked to my developing intentions for activities I will
undertake upon my return to the studio. Language begins to fill the gaps: the
gaps in my memory of the painting I am working on, and the gaps in time
between days in the studio.
The conclusion I reach, that I will ‘explore a range of possibilities’, could refer
to several of the activities described in this entry, including: planing, priming,
assertion of errors, and the painting processes I plan to undertake on the
panels’ surfaces. As with earlier observations about repeated statements in
my piece Takeaway Tin Lid (figure 3), such ‘possibilities’ do not simply lie in
the realm of language. Thought is visual as well as linguistic. Georgia Holz
describes this visual/linguistic overlap in relation to Eva Hesse’s notebooks
and diaries: ‘For Hesse, the artistic use of language and writing remained
inseparably tied to the visual and material aspects of art’ (Holz, 2004: 39).
Figure 12 Mikey Cuddihy, Slide, 2002: detail. Xerox, acrylic, gesso and paper on canvas. Photograph by Stephen White. Courtesy of Mikey Cuddihy.
Cuddihy's paintings speak frankly of the mundanity of the artist's life.
(Peer, 2003)
39
Mikey Cuddihy’s paintings have at their source doodles and scribbled notes
from telephone conversations, referring to day to day lived experience. Her
transformation of these doodles into paintings leaves a trail of transparent
process, behind which the original pages of the notepad remain visible,
untouched apart from their repetition through photocopying, visible in the detail
shown in figure 12.
Returning to images of Cuddihy’s work from her 2003 exhibition James in
Limbo, in the midst of writing this thesis, reminds me of the origin of my
research inclination to make strategies evident, and processes visible.
Through the display of Cuddihy’s paintings, and the accompanying press
release, essay and catalogue, the exhibition served to make evident the
strategies which were inherent to Cuddihy’s practice.
Figure 13 Ruth Solomons, Mobius, 2013. Oil on board: section of the reverse while painting was in progress.
A few weeks into working on them, I cut up the panels of my painting Mobius
(2013) with a jigsaw, in such a way that they could be reconfigured back into
rectangular panels. Having glued and taped the backs together, I continued
working on the fronts. When I presented some of these panels to co-students
40
on the MRes course, I was struck by their reactions, which I recorded as
follows:
Aware that they were seeing fragments separate from the whole work, my
co-students were curious to see the sides, the backs, to handle each panel
themselves. Hands held edges gingerly, tipping the panels away to see the
inside edges of jigsawed cuts through the surface, bare wood just visible in
cross-section. Minimal intervention of glue and gumstrip used to reconnect
sawn parts in their different configurations, became a pattern on the backs:
evidence of the artist’s eye and hand, echoing painterly reconfiguration on
the front. It became apparent the panels now had two fronts. The handling
was one symptom, the visual examination another. The first served to
discover the material reality of the panels, the second to understand the
methods and thought processes evident in these objects, which now
contained both two and three dimensional evidence of making.
The ‘two fronts’ both displayed ‘evidence of making’, but what my co-students
specifically observed was my ‘impulse to make’, as described by Fer in
Studiowork (Fer, 2009: 24). My notebook records ‘making’ in all my processes.
Yet intervention with a jigsaw was considered ‘making’, by my co-students,
whereas the original construction of the panels was not observed in the same
way. This leads me to conclude that these are perceived as different types of
‘making’, even though for me they are both integral to my practice. The
response of my co-students implied that if artists have the resources with
which to work, then they are making art. However this precludes the strategies
undertaken to attain such resources. In the context of precarity, the threshold
at which resources are available is in fact much lower, therefore activities
whereby resources are attained, or adapted, become integral to practice.
I finished the previous chapter describing how Gillick answers the question
‘what is the good of this work?’ in terms of practice being a network of
activities amongst which work resides (Gillick, 2012). The panels of my
painting also represent a network of activities, all of which are integral to my
practice. Even the methods by which I display errors, and methods of both
construction and re-construction, become integral (such as depicted in figure
13).
41
Figure 14 Mel Bochner, Wrap: Portrait of Eva Hesse, 1966
The network of activities that describe an art practice can be made evident
through language, for example in Mel Bochner’s word-image Wrap: Portrait of
Eva Hesse (1966). However, I would also argue that Bochner’s process was
first to perceive Hesse’s strategies visually, and then to express them in
language. Gillick’s sense of the network of activities also connects to Eva
Hesse, whose practice involved handling of all the parts: she interrogated pre-
fabrication through her making processes. All such activities were recorded in
her diaries, drawings, notebooks, and in documented conversations. Thus the
‘mundanity of the artist’s life’ (Peer, 2003) is made integral to practice through
the artist’s own decisions to make their strategies evident, a first stage in the
curating, archiving and documenting of artworks.
42
9 Conclusion
The strategies evolved by artists in the context of precarity are subject to
judgements made by a public still adapting to these conditions themselves.
The concomitant influence of audiences and readerships is felt by artists as
accusations, such as articulated by Gillick: ‘the accusation as framed by
doubts that form the base of art’s work’ (Gillick, 2012: 62), and Molesworth’s
‘bewildered accusation’ of the ‘audience’s questioning’ (Molesworth, 2003:
17). A duty also lies with the artist, however, one that I found relates to
practice as an archive: the artist in parallel to the museum. Fer sensitively
picked up Hesse’s thread in describing the nature of the ‘studiowork’, towards
the formulation of a new branch of history: ‘a history of an impulse to make’
(Fer, 2009: 24). I demonstrated my own ‘impulse to make’ in the jigsawed
panels which I presented to co-students.
I found that universalisability became a method with which to apply judgement
to judgements. Whereas, Sidgwick’s senses of concomitant influence and
implied duty in a passive/active dynamic evident in statements, enabled me to
interweave ethics with art practice discourse. As I want to simply make artists’
strategies evident, the latter method of gently opening up ethical notions within
statements, and analysis of passive/active judgements implied within them,
proved a more measured way to answer my research question.
My own practice demonstrated the critical nature of statements arising from
practice itself, in an echo of the declaration device employed by Atkinson &
Baldwin in their artists’ book Theories of Ethics (1970-71). This became a
circular referring back to my original impetus behind my foray into ethics.
Another concept I returned to was of resources. The reduction in resources
brought about by, and in comparison to, increased economic pressures, led
me to observe the role strategies play in maximising the availability of
resources. Such strategies included the construction of materials and
utilisation of time when I am away from the studio.
My assertion of the position the studio holds in contemporary art practice
included collectives and studio groups, and as such situated it as an important
base for art practice, where life outside ceases to intrude. I do not preclude life
experience as a studio in itself however, and this is where I agree with Buren.
43
Practice is key, and resources, such as a physical studio, are in service to it.
Lippard & Chandler also pitch this angle on practice: they describe how a
focus on applying concepts directly to artworks poses a danger that practice
gets bypassed. Hesse proved a great example as an artist who stayed true to
her conceptual integrity without sacrificing practice, as demonstrated through
Fer’s curation of Studiowork (2009).
Molesworth gave voice to the unconventional practices of conceptual artists,
whose resources do not lie in the expected realm of physical studio and
traditional art materials (Bolger, 2003: 17). Contrasting as they may be,
Molesworth’s and Fer’s approaches both serve to respond to implied
judgements: those of the concomitant audience, and of the duty of
museum/artist. Thus, I find that they succeed in making artists’ strategies
evident.
To take this research further a possible path could be to join the dots between
Buren’s essay and Molesworth’s curation, with an aim of casting light on
Buren’s sense of the implied duty of the artist. I would anticipate finding a
contrast between this and Molesworth’s sense of the museum’s duty, which
led her to form her curatorial methodology for Work Ethic (2003). I would like
to analyse the resulting excess in duty that the museum is required to fulfil,
above that of the artist, in relation to Buren’s essay, and the broader field of
post-studio theory. There is also scope to further explore the parallel between
artist and archive in terms of Fer’s ‘history of the impulse to make’ (Fer, 2009:
24). My analysis of Gillick’s network of identities through Broad’s comparison
of the relationships between good and right, and shape and size (Broad,
1930: 176-7), similarly holds potential for further testing, both theoretically and
through practice.
In terms of limitations, I experienced a great deficit in resources during the
period in which I undertook this MRes course and wrote this resulting thesis,
due to being self-funded, and working part-time throughout. This put further
pressure on my studio time on top of the existing economic pressures
described in this thesis. Ironically, I felt the context of precarity especially
keenly during this time and my practice suffered as a consequence. Despite
having made work that I am satisfied will support and has aided in developing
my theoretical research, I regret not being able to make more work in this vein.
44
The artworks I am including in this thesis: statements, notebook entries, back
of envelope drawings, details of painting surfaces, jigsawed painting panels,
and work displayed in my studio, were all made during the MRes Arts Practice
course. I also include a portfolio in the appendix section.
I present the following research questions as findings from this thesis, and to
demonstrate my commitment to pursuing threads of this thesis at a future
date:
How does Daniel Buren’s essay The Function of the Studio aim to relieve
artists of their duty to the viewers and audiences of art?
How does the distribution of resources within an art practice reflect the
archival intentions of the artist?
Can the effect of judgements on artists’ practices be discovered through
identifying parameters, or counterpart-terms (such as good and right),
which denote ethics?
I am leaving this thesis open-ended in terms of my own duty to pursue
channels arising from it, through future practice and research; and in terms of
the reader’s own concomitant influence, which is ever-changing as time
passes, and as economic conditions in the UK change.
45
10 Bibliography
Art & Language. (1969) Introduction. In: Art-Language, pp.1-10. Vol.1 No.1May 1969. Banbury, Oxfordshire: Art & Language Press
Atkinson, T & Baldwin, M. (1970-1). Theories of ethics. New York: Art &Language Press
Barlow, P. (initiated by) (2007-2010) What do artists do?: April 2008. [Internet].Available from: <http://whatdoartistsdo.blogspot.com> [Accessed 7 August2013]
Barry, R. (2003) Some places to which we can come: Robert Barry works1963-1975. Bielefeld: Kerber Verlag
Bolger, D. (2003) Foreword. In: Molesworth, H. Work ethic. Baltimore:Pennsylvania State University Press
Bosch, J. (2009) The strategic studio: how to access and assess decision-making in visual art practice . PhD thesis, University of Northumbria
Broad, C. D. (1930) Five types of ethical theory . London: Routledge & KeganPaul Ltd
Bryan-Wilson, J. (2009) Art workers: radical practice in the Vietnam war era .California, London: University of California Press
Buren, D. (1979) The function of the studio. In: October. pp.51-58 [Internet]Vol.10 Autumn 1979. Translated from the French by Thomas Repensek.Available from: <http://www.jstor.org.arts.idm.oclc.org/stable/778628>[Accessed 7 August 2013]
Crimp, D. (1981) The end of painting. In: October. pp.69-86 [Internet] Vol.16Spring 1981. Available from: <http://www.jstor.org/stable/778375> [Accessed7 August 2013]
Cuddihy, M. (2003) James in limbo. Recent Paintings. London: PEER
Cuddihy, M. (2003) James in limbo. London: PEER 21 June - 27 July 2003
Darwent, C. (2009) Eva Hesse: Studiowork, Fruitmarket Gallery, Edinburgh.In: The Independent on Sunday [Internet] 16 August 2009. Available from:<http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/reviews/eva-hesse-studiowork-fruitmarket-gallery-edinburgh-1772701.html> [Accessed 7 August2013]
Davidts, W & Paice, K. (2009) The fall of the studio: artists at work.Amsterdam: Valiz
Fer, B. (2009) Eva Hesse: studiowork. New Haven: Yale University Press,Edinburgh Fruitmarket Gallery
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Fer, B. (2009) Eva Hesse studioworks (a keynote lecture) . [Internet]. Availablefrom: <http://fruitmarket.co.uk/learning/resources/eva-hesse-recordings/>[Accessed 7 August 2013]
Forkert, K. (2011) Artistic lives: a two-city study . Unpublished PhD thesis.Goldsmiths College (University of London)
Gillick, L. (2012) The Good of work. In: E-flux Journal, Are you working toomuch? Post-Fordism, Precarity, and the Labor of Art . USA: Sternberg Press
Hesse, E. (2013) Eva Hesse 1965. London: Hauser & Wirth. 30 January - 9March 2013
Hesse, E. (2009) Studiowork: Eva Hesse . London: Camden Arts Centre. 11December 2009 - 7 March 2010
Hodge, S. (2012) Why your five year old could not have done that: modern artexplained. London: Thames & Hudson
Holz, G. (2004) “Thoughts made visible” Eva Hesse’s language use, inherentin her works. In: Hesse, E. Transformations: the sojourn in Germany 1964/65 .Wien: Kunsthalle
Hytten, E. (1959) The concept of morality and the criteria of legitimateargumentation. An examination of some recent definitions. Stockholm:Filosofiska Studier
Jones, C. (1996) Machine in the studio: constructing the postwar Americanartist. Chicago, London: University of Chicago Press
Jones, L (2013) A life more Eminent: Tracey Emin opens up her intimatephoto memoir - and tells Liz Jones why her 'not always palatable' past hasshaped her life's work [Internet]. 21 April 2013 Available from:<http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-2311050/Tracey-Emin-opens-intimate-photo-memoir-tells-Liz-Jones-past-shaped-lifes-work.html> [Accessed7 August 2013]
Kanger, S. (2001) New foundations for ethical theory. In: Hintikka, J. (ed.)Collected papers of Stig Kanger with essays on his life and work vol. 1 .Dordrecht, Boston, London: Kluwer Kluwer Academic
Lazzarato, M. (1996) Immaterial labor. In: Virno, P & Hardt, M. (1996). Radicalthought in Italy. Minneapolis, US: University of Minnesota Press
Lippard, L, Chandler, J. (1999) The dematerialization of art (1968). In: Alberro,A., Stimpson, B., eds. Conceptual art: a critical anthology . Massachusetts:Massachusetts Institute of Technology
MacLeod, K. & Holdridge, L. (eds.) (2006) Thinking through art: reflections onart as research. Oxfordshire, USA, Canada: Routledge
McLean-Ferris, L. (2011) ArtReview discusses Eva Hesse: studioworks withBriony Fer [Internet]. Available at:<http://www.artreview.com/forum/topic/show?id=1474022:Topic:847555>[Accessed 7 August 2013]
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McLellan, D. (1980) The thought of Karl Marx, 2nd ed. London: MacmillanPress Ltd
Milner, J. (2009) Locating the studio. In: Waterfield, G. ed. The artist’s studio,UK: Hogarth Art, Compton Verney
Molesworth, H. (2003) Work ethic. Baltimore: Pennsylvania State UniversityPress
PEER. (2003) Mikey Cuddihy - James in limbo , [Internet]. Available at:<http://www.peeruk.org/projects/cuddihy/mikey-cuddihy.html> [Accessed 7August 2013]
Ryan, P. (2009) Peirce's Semeiotic and the implications for aesthetics in thevisual arts : a study of the sketchbook and its positions in the hierarchies ofmaking, collecting and exhibiting . Unpublished PhD thesis, University of theArts London
Sennett, R. (2008) The craftsman. New Haven, London: Yale UniversityPress, New Haven
Sidgwick, H. (1962). Chapter III Ethical Judgements. In: Sidgwick, H. (1962)The methods of ethics , 2nd ed. London: Macmillan and Company Limited
Smith, Terry (2003) Production. In: Schiff, R, Nelson, R. (2003) Critical termsfor art history . Chicago, London: University of Chicago Press (pp.361-381)
Work ethic (2004) [Internet]. Available from:<http://www.artbma.org/exhibitions/special/work_ethic/index.htm> [Accessed 5May 2013]
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11 Table of Figures
Figure 1 Members of the BAT Pack , photograph by Ollie Harrop,2011
8
Figure 2 Daniel Buren, From and Off the Windows, 1974 11
Figure 3 Ruth Solomons, Takeaway tin lid, 2012 16
Figure 4 Ruth Solomons, Untitled, 2012 17
Figure 5 ‘Tracey Emin in her Spitalfields studio’ (original caption) ,2013
20
Figure 6 Roxy Paine, Paint Dipper, 1997 24
Figure 7 Eva Hesse, Studioworks, installed at Fruitmarket Gallery,Edinburgh, 2009
27
Figure 8 Ruth Solomons, Various works in the studio , 2013 30
Figure 9 Ruth Solomons, Back of Envelope Drawing 14 , 2013 34
Figure 10 Diagram over Back of Envelope Drawing 14 35
Figure 11 Ruth Solomons, Notebook 18/4/13, 2013 37
Figure 12 Mikey Cuddihy, Slide, 2002 38
Figure 13 Ruth Solomons, Mobius, 2013 39
Figure 14 Mel Bochner, Wrap: Portrait of Eva Hesse , 1966 41
49
12 Appendices
Appendix 1 Glossary 50
Appendix 2 Critical Reading Form 54
Appendix 3 Conversation: Split brains 55
Appendix 4 Hasty drawings and scribbled thoughts 58
Appendix 5 Portfolio 59
50
Appendix 1 Glossary
The following terms, listed alphabetically, are used in this thesis with particular
meanings. In most cases I have explained these meanings within the text, and
I merely repeat them here, so they can be referred to while reading. The few
which I have not defined within the text, are listed here so as to provide
supplementary detail to their implied contexts in the thesis.
I use bold type for these terms where they occur in the glossary, so that their
interconnections can be visually perceived. However in the main body of the
thesis, I use bold only to emphasise specific uses of these terms, particularly
the terms concomitant and duty.
Where Americanisms occur in titles and quotes, I have left their spellings as
found (e.g. dematerialized). If I repeat such words within my own writing, I
have used the equivalent English spellings (e.g. dematerialised). I chose to
include both in this way, as a commitment to transcribing quotes exactly as
found, while also making sure my own writing remained consistent.
Concomitant. One of two senses of the notion behind ought: a collective
influence originating from an implied audience (Sidgwick, 1962: 28-9). (The
other sense is duty, a more commonly understood word which does not need
to be explained in this glossary).
Contemporary, current artist. Liam Gillick prefers the term ‘current artist’,arguing that ‘contemporary art no longer accounts for what is being made –
that is connected more to what we have all become than what we might
propose, represent, or fail to achieve’ (Gillick, 2012: 61). I have still, however,
used the term contemporary, which I feel is generally understood to mean
artists working now, but could also be perceived in a broader sense to simply
mean recent, in an unspecified time period spanning back perhaps a couple of
decades, as well as ‘what we have all become’ now. Therefore I use words
such as ‘working now’ in conjunction with contemporary to emphasise which
sense I am referring to.
Declaration device . This refers to artworks and art writing which extrapolate
elements through a ‘necessary form of development in pointing out the
51
possibilities of a theoretical analysis as a method for (possibly) making art’
(Atkinson, 1969, p.4). Robert Barry produced works in this vein. A useful
example here is All the Things I know but of which I am not at the Moment
thinking – 1:36 p.m., June 15 (1969), written/stencilled in pencil onto a wall:
knowledge which has the potential to become thought, and in turn the
potential to become art.
Dematerialised, dematerialisation . This was a process of stripping down, or
tending towards nothing, specifically of 1960s conceptual artworks, such as
Robert Barry’s work described above. In my thesis, these terms are used in
relation to Lucy Lippard and John Chandler’s essay The Dematerialization of
Art (1968).
Deontic. Statements which imply judgement without use of an imperative
form. The term deontic describes statements where ‘the assertor’ might ‘deny
that he has (or refuse to give) “reasons”’ (Atkinson & Baldwin, 1970-71: 41).
Ethics. A normative science, taking in a broad field of philosophy stretching
back to Spinoza and Kant. For the purpose of this thesis, I have taken
Atkinson & Baldwin’s artists’ book Theories of Ethics (1970-71) as a
springboard from which to find theories pertaining to ethics of language, that
help me to answer my research question.
Immaterial labour. This refers to work that does not result in production in the
terms of exchange or use value in the Marxist sense. Maurizio Lazzarato
describes immaterial labour as having ‘creative content’: a creative exchange
occurs between worker and consumer (Lazzarato, 1996: 147). Liam Gillick
also refers to immaterial labour, knowledge exchange, and the anxiety of
working without reward (Gillick, 2012: 65).
Judgement. I refer to judgements as notions that carry threats of disapproval
or punishment. Many of the judgements described in this thesis are
perceived, implied or anticipated. I have extracted these judgements through
ethics analysis.
Marxist. I refer glancingly to Marxist philosophy relating to work, and his
theories of use and exchange value, and how they might relate to art practice.
52
However, my thesis shifts emphasis from practice as work in the Marxist
sense, into practice as process and making. This sense is more in the vein of
immaterial labour, and artist as knowledge worker, as described above.
Museum. I use the term museum to describe a general idea of a public
institution which safeguards and displays artworks. When applied to galleries,
I am referring to this aspect of their function.
Notion. This term is used a great deal in ethics. It serves to describe the
intentions behind terms (and statements). A notion becomes easier to convey
once separated from the linguistic weight of terms such as good, right and
ought.
Ought. This term is also used a great deal in ethics. The notion behind
ought is the same as for should, have to, must. Even if such words are not
used in themselves, a notion of ought can be said to be perceived.
Post-studio. Daniel Buren’s essay The Function of the Studio (1979) is widely
cited as the source of post-studio debate. Post-studio describes a historical
rejection of the studio that paralleled and developed from movements which
rejected the museum.
Precarity. The term precarity describes the precarious position workers find
themselves in when income barely matches living costs.
Representation, re-presentation . Here I refer to ways in which art practice
and artworks are re-presented outside the studio. This could include ways of
talking about, writing about, documenting, archiving and displaying art
practice/artworks.
Strategies. I refer to strategies rather than processes, to draw attention to
the crossover between art practice and life. Johanna Bosch defines strategies
as ‘tactical adaptation’, and as having a day-to day nature (Bosch, 2009: 37).
Studio. The origin of the term studio is as a study, rather than a workshop,
and as such the term ‘embodies the gradual blurring of the distinction between
artistic reflection or 'studious activity' that permeates contemporary artistic
53
ways of making’ (Davidts & Pace, eds., 2009: 9). In the thesis I refer to
physical studio sites, such as my own studio, but I also allude to a sense of
studio which does not have to be attached to a physical site, and exists more
in an attitude to work, or the resources with which practice is enabled.
Universalisability. My basic understanding of universalisability stems from
Atkinson & Baldwin’s definition in Theories of Ethics (1970-71): a person who
makes a moral judgement at t must be willing, at t, to ‘universalize’ his
judgement at least to some extent (Atkinson & Baldwin, 1970-1: 31).
Work (verb and noun). In this thesis, I have considered the mutability of work
between its verb and noun forms as being a key characteristic of its meaning.
The verb to work implies work being made. The noun work implies work
being done. Therefore in Liam Gillick’s question ‘what is the good of this
work?’ (Gillick, 2012: 61) and Briony Fer’s neologism ‘studio work’ (Fer,
2009), both senses are present.
54
Appendix 2 Critical Reading Form
I developed the following critical reading form as a result of recommendations
made by Eleanor Bowen in the Academic Writing module of the MRes. It
helped me to skip quickly to the critical aspects of texts I was reading while
everything was still fresh in my mind, and was also an invaluable method for
collecting bibliographical data.
55
Appendix 3 Conversation: Split brains
The following dialogue with Kataryna Leach will appear in the catalogue for
Mise-en-Scene, an exhibition instigated by Cullinan Richards, at Bermondsey
Project Space, 20 September to 5 October 2013.
56
57
58
Appendix 4 Hasty Drawings and Scribbled Thoughts
This short written work and the accompanying image was submitted for the
second issue of JAWS (2013), the Journal of Art Writing by Students, which
was instigated by Francesca Peschier, one of my co-students on the MRes. I
was part of the editing team for JAWS, so I wanted to contribute something
which demonstrated how initial research ideas, subject to peer-review, can
develop into more complex critical analysis, as is now evident in my thesis.
59
Appendix 5 Portfolio
My portfolio consists of work made during or immediately preceding the MRes
course, which supports, develops or is related to my research.
Back of Envelope Drawing 3, 2013: pen on back of envelope, 18x24cm.
60
Mobius, 2013: detail showing back of panels, gumstrip on wood.
61
Mobius, 2013: detail showing the panels being handled, oil on board.
62
Mobius, 2013: painting in progress in the studio, oil on board, approx dimensions 100x150cm.
63
Untitled, 2012-2013. Oil on board, 180x300cm: unfinished painting in progress. A detail of this painting is shown in figure 4.