Panel discussion to take place on September 6, 2018, at 6 pm.
Irwin’s unlit light fixture sculptures encourage us to see and contemplate the entire space, and ourselves within it, as elements of the art.
WASHINGTON, DC – Americans have always appreciated a little rebelliousness.
A couple of weeks ago, I went to 101 Spring Street, the former home and studio of Donald Judd, to hear about a new Robert Irwin project to be built at the Chinati Foundation in Marfa, Texas.
When Robert Irwin abandoned his Venice beach studio in 1970 he did not know where he would go next.
On view in Chelsea right now are three gallery shows that offer drastically different takes contemporary takes on minimalism. Two are from classic minimalist artists: Robert Irwin and Richard Tuttle have pioneered the movement since its first flowering in the 1970s. The third artist is kind of a gutter punk, but the crusty, abject work of Mark Flood might be the most engaging riff on minimalism’s fading grandeur.
Robert Irwin has been a favorite of mine for some time now. His work helped to pioneer the 1960s California Light and Space movement, and it is often beautiful to experience in person. Having never seen his well-known window installation “1° 2° 3° 4°,” which was originally installed at the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego, I was wanted to stop by his show at Pace Gallery in midtown Manhattan to see the piece revisited.
Earlier this week I posted a review of MCASD’s current show Phenomenal: California Light, Space, Surface. Reading this, you might have thought, “Cool! Perceptual deprivation! Now I’ll know what it was like doing LSD in the 1960s and 1970s without worrying about passing a drug test at work!” Which is all well and good. But you also might have wondered, beyond the entertainment factor, why should you care. What exactly is the Light and Space movement and why is it important?
SAN DIEGO — One of the most anticipated shows of Pacific Standard Time — the Getty’s epic initiative to “celebrate the birth of the LA art scene” and demonstrate that art history has also been made outside of New York — is the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego’s Phenomenal: California Light, Space, Surface. Spanning both the La Jolla and Downtown locations, Phenomenal seeks to investigate the artists working in the 1960s and 1970s who turned to light instead of form and addressed notions of perception. For artists playing with natural light, Southern California was the perfect place to work.
Inspired by the closing of Ai Weiwei’s “Sunflower Seeds” installation due to health hazards, I’ve been writing about how environmental impact is factored in to the evaluation of installation art. Does a work of art have to have a low carbon footprint to be great, or should we completely separate a piece from the cost of its production?
To start off the debate, I want to explore a few works of installation art that could be considered environmentally friendly and evaluate what impact they have, both environmental and artistic.