Garcia-Lascurain, Maite, Dennis Sharp, 2021

“A Painted Desert in the City” A Re-reading of ‘The Man who Walked in Colour’, by Georges Didi-Huberman Maite Garcia-Lascurain Tutor: Doreen Bernath HTS Diploma Term 1 - December 2020

“ ... This day, as I fly, the lava world is calm. There is something surprising in the tranquility of this deserted landscape where once a thousand volcanoes boomed to each other in their great subterranean organs and spat forth their fire ... ”1

Fig. 1

1 Pg. 65, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Lewis Galantiere, and John O’Hara Cosgrave, Wind, Sand and Stars (New York: Reynal & Hitchcock, 1939)

View from the rear window of a Helio Courier aeroplane flying over the Painted Desert, Northern Arizona. Photo by Ad Petersen

I. The Deserted Site 1 In the Painted Desert of Northern Arizona, there appears to be nothing but vast expanses of colour. The Roden Crater, an extinct volcano chosen by the artist James Turrell for the luxury of its remoteness and aesthetic is the starting point of George Didi-Huberman’s fable of a walking man.

The first and main character is ‘The desert’ itself: a gigantic monochrome, an endless stretch of colour with no visible limit for the walking man. The man tours the burning yellow of the sand, and this yellow has no limits to him. The frame that contains this space is the horizon; while the sky is a fierce piece of cobalt impossible to look at directly. He walks without a route, the object of his journey is the walking itself. The desert dweller is isolated, but not lost.

“time stands still, because there is nothing more than the bare minimum1 that makes life possible. And sometimes not even that.” 2 Yet despite its harshness, the desert “excites the imagination, inspiring a reckless desire to walk accross its sands 2and among its dunes while gazing on an infinite horizon” 3 The desert, then, is the absolute experience of isolation, and of the void.

Turrell’s work parts from this experience of near nothingness.

“[His] investigations into the mechanics of perception were a reminder that the world looks and feels very different, even enhanced, under conditions of sensory 3 deprivation” 4 .

Nothingness, or rather, no object - only light and perception is the centre of his fascination.

Fig. 2

1

2

3

4

From Didi-Huberman, Georges. “Walking in The Desert.” The Man Who Walked in Color. Translated by Drew Burk, Univocal, 2017.

Pg. 152, Newman, Oscar. Herman Haan - Life in the Desert.

A. Tiranti Ltd., 1961.

Pg. 13, Martínez Ramírez, Júpiter. “The Desert, A Remote Zone Inhospitable.” Heading Into the Desert. Archaeology in Extreme Conditions.

Pg. 29, Govan, Michael, and Christine Y. Kim. James Turrell - A Retrospective. Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

An aerial view of the Roden Crater, Painted Desert, Arizona. James Turrell and D. Wiser, 1982

II. Artificial Nothingness

sharply defined vertical colour

limitless and directionless colour

Time passes, and Huberman brings us to the space of an art gallery, the place where we now roam. A white painted room emptied of everything except an intense saturation of a single colour, “a field where light is so intense, heavy, homogenous, and without a source”1

. . . to such a degree that all hints of spatiality in the room are erased.

So “(whilst) a ‘normal’ object always provides indications of where the visible light clings to the object’s surface or where the light passes through it ... ” 2,

. . . such as shadows indicating a corner, this object does not.

Light no longer serves to render objects visible, but rather becomes the object itself.

Through the isolation of this colour; a recreation of nothingness is achieved.

We may not need a desert to experience the lack of a constraint, of a barrier, or of absence. the opening forms limits

the enclosure is obscured

The walking man finds “something like the very experience of a deserted place, within the forty-five square metres of the small gallery.” 3

Once again, the gaze of the walking man is confronted with a huge monochrome in the reproduction of the desert in a viewing chambre. It is no longer an arid yellow, but a saturated and opaque, homogenous projection of light from which no visible source is in sight; and being there no indication of spatiality left, what we perceive is a surface.

Only this time, the man is not engulfed by the scorching heat and thirst of our original site, the desert.

The spectator stands

in-front-of

rather than inside-of or surrounded-by,

as seen in the diagramme (figure 3), indicating a separating and voluntary experience, a protection; and the opening of an invitation to gaze at the void in colour. All that remains is a purely visual encounter. But whereas to ‘wonder’ in the desert is an unstaged scenario, the reproduction of its dwelling in an art gallery is its highly designed opposite.

Fig. 3

“Turrel has created opportunities for us to experience it as a primary

physical presence rather than as a tool through which to see or render

other phenomena. Viewing his work, we are not called upon to consider

what is being lit but instead to contemplate the nature of the light itself

- its transparency or opacity, its volume, and its colour - ,

which is often perceived as changing, thus adding a temporal aspect

to the experience.” 4 The art gallery becomes the stage where such experiences are brought to cohesion being translated into an architectural language, a deserted colour within an artificial frame.

Diagramme of a James Turrell colour chambre.

1

2 3 4

Pg. 46, Didi-Huberman, Georges. The Man Who Walked in Color. Translated by Drew Burk, Univocal, 2017.

Pg. 31, ibid Pg. 29, ibid Pg. 14, Govan, Michael, and Christine Y. Kim. James Turrell - A Retrospective. Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

“ ... The longer you stay in these pieces, the more the difference between having your eyes open and having your eyes closed is diminished [...] after a while, the seeing that takes place in the space affects the colour sensation you have when you first close your eyes. [...] In a very pure space, it's hard to cleanse your eyes of these sensations ... ”1

Fig. 4

1 Pg 97, Govan, Michael, and Christine Y. Kim. James Turrell - A Retrospective. Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Kano and Orca, installation view from James Turrell: Light Spaces at Capp Street Project San Francisco, April - June 1984

III. The Rituals of Chaos 1 and Public Legitimacy Time passes once again and now I’d like to introduce our walking man into a void larger than the art gallery but smaller than the desert. Our character now finds himself in the realm of the public square, a space which despite its location in a city maintains optical moments of vastness; and of pure exteriority… Where the temporary absence of the building’s shadows, traffic and usual visual noise of the city leaves a feeling of being exposed; at least for those who venture beyond its edges. 1 In the image of Francis Alys’ recording of a day in the zócalo, Mexico City’s main public square, the only interruption to this nothingness becomes the flagpole and its shadow; where pedestrians gather to take refuge from the sun. While still a designed space, the publicness of the square allows for unrehearsed situations in its immenseness. In this sense, it stands in-between the wild nothingness of the desert, and the highly controlled experience of abstraction in the art gallery.

If we tried to understand the perception of the walking man through a continuation of the previous examples we’ve seen, then the surface of the square itself, the ground, takes the role of ‘colour’. And the facades which contain it play the role of the frame or the horizon. It is our perceptual field which envelops the objects, becomes their support and their ambience. The objects, or subjects, are the pedestrians belonging to a social space which, once inside the area of the square, become abstracted from their usual physical surroundings as if on a stage.

The ‘everyoneness’ of the square (or the fact that it belongs to all of us) is what allows it to be both a stage and a platform. The city without a square is unimaginable.

In the attempt to understand the abstraction of the ground which gives the square its visual strength, I’d like to borrow Henri Lefebvre’s illusions of space, abstraction in law in the production of abstract space, with particular reference to public areas.

The first, is the

‘illusion of transparency’:

here, space appears luminous, and easily readable. This illusion refers to the

construction of a personality or character that transcends a space,

strongest in those that play a central role in a story-telling of

identity. This illusion is constructed mostly outside the space

itself, and precedes the experience of visiting it.

Fig. 5

“The single most important function of an element in the city is the

symbolic meaning attached to it. All great [public space] is in tune

with the profound depth of our emotions. The great plaza [...] is

linked with the world of fantasy, the context of feeling. There is an

all-aesthetic experience, a deep core of valuation, which owes little

to critical judgement.” 2

And second, the

‘illusion of opacity’:

the substance and solidity of the physical space.

In a powerful public void, these two illusions operate together in such harmony that they obscure the complex realities of socio-spatial relations. In other words, the visual, the image of the square and the vastness of its emptiness will always transcend and have a stronger presence than the social space that inhabits it.3 Senses of touch, smell and taste become overwhelmed by sight in an intimidating manner. The overarching importance of sight and perception tie back to the experience of the desert dweller. This time, the walking man is not either envelpoed by

or

in-front-of

the giant monochrome, but rather stands in both positions simulatenously. In the public square - a node and point of reference in the very centre of the city - it is possible to find, ironically, a moment of nothingness.

To quote Huberman, “The deserted place is not a simple place where there would be nothing at all.

In order to provide visual evidence of absence (...) there must be a minimum of

architecture, that is to say, an art of breaks, partitions and edges.” 4

Francis Alÿs - Zócalo, May 22, 1999

1 ‘The Rituals of Chaos’ references a book of the same name by Carlos Monsiváis on

Mexico City 2 Pg. 88, Moughtin, Cliff. “The Square or Plaza.” Urban Design: Street and Square,

Taylor & Francis Group, 2003.

3 pg. 58, Lefebvre, Henri, and Kanishka Goonewardena. Space, Difference, Everyday Life:

Reading Henri Lefebvre. Routledge, 2008.

4 Pg. 51, Didi-Huberman, Georges. The Man Who Walked in Color. Translated by Drew Burk,

Univocal, 2017.

IV. A Passageway in the Veil Now, I would like to briefly return to James Turrell.

‘The Wedgeworks’ is a series of colour chambres started in 1969. The title refers to a natural phenomenon observed by himself whilst flying over the Painted Desert on his way to Roden Crater. “‘Wedging’ occurs with a cold front and ‘shallow wedging’ occurs with a warm front. As you approach a front where there is a change in visibility, which happens very quickly when you fly towards it, [...] this differentiation of vision happens through weather and water vapour.”1

.

.

sphere 1 - clear . .

x -

-

-

-

sphere 2 - hazy

In other words, the windows of the aeroplane are almost instantly opaqued by water vapour, a barrier of lucidity and murkiness, or of transparency and opacity is crossed. (Here, opacity and transparency do not refer to the sense of the terms as used by Lefebvre, but in their literall meanings of optical clarity.)

This effect of an unexpected change in visibility is what Turrell seeks to recreate in his series using the so called ‘veils’: Veil: Noun.

A fine, translucent material which stops you from seeing

something clearly. 2

a play of opacities.

A strong and sharply projected light defining a plane; emanating either from above or from the sides of the space. These surfaces give the illusion of a barrier or a translucent wall, inviting visitors to cross and experience a change in their visibility; like the once crossed by the aeroplane.

Fig. 6

1 Pg. 89, Govan, Michael, and Christine Y. Kim. “Painting in Space” James Turrell - A Retrospective. Los Angeles County

Museum of Art. 2 A modified definition of ‘veil’ from Cambridge Advanced

Learner’s Dictionary. Cambridge University Press, 2003.

James Turrell, Milk Run II, 1997. Part of the ‘Wedgeworks’ series

V. Permanent Vastness Figure 7: Protesters occupying Tiananmen Square.

Photograph by Jian Lu, 1989 Figure 8: Crowds gathering for the papal benediction,

St. Peter’s Square. Lithograph by Lorenzo Bernini, 1870 What does this have to do with the public sphere? The square is not ‘limitless’ in the sense of the desert or Turrells’ colour chambres.

The bounding facades or volumes give the walking man a defined edge within his sphere of vision, we perceive a limit on space. But the same sensation of immenseness persists; even in the case of a gathering or occupation, who rather than giving a sense of the square being ‘full’, reaffirm its vastness. The square is a large, horizontal expanse: a territory belonging to everyone. The partitions or facades on its sides, however grandly designed, act like surfaces isolating the emptiness from the fullness of the surrounding city.

In the process of arriving to the square, one must first travel through the thick, often incomprehensibly rich density of the urban fabric before its emptiness can be perceived with awe. As spectators we momentary leave behind the congestion.

Fig. 7

in other words:

The sudden change in rhythm of our surroundings, the removal of an enveloping urban skin (though momentary) all whilst being in the very heart of the city, is what adds most to the illusion of the void.

After the first image of the square is perceived and one decides to venture beyond its edges, it is not just a threshold of solid and void that is crossed, it is also one of visibility. We leave behind a condition of opacity, in the sense that the fullness of city that surrounded us is lost. Whilst in this fullness, we were visible to others only in fragments and in moments; but now, we enter a space of transparency, where those barriers disappear. solid void

fullness

emptiness opacity

transparency

ambiguity clarity The pedestrian, or the walking man, becomes both immediately visible for others, as well as a privileged observer of the subjects within the frame: a visibility made possible by the very absence of the usual clamor that builds urban spaces, and that defines the form of the square.

In a description of this illusion, Giedion describes the experience of the ‘onlooker’ in St. Peter’s Square, who “awaiting the blessing, discovers that he can

overlook everything that takes place on the

terraces immediately in front of the church”.1 This is also how the quality of the square as a stage becomes possible. It is the place for public discourse, ritualistic chaos and gatherings that further renders it essential.

The activity inside the square is what gives it vitality, and therefore visual attraction.2 The value of the experience of vastness - be it of a desert or a monumental public square - lies in the many ways one can fill it or occupy it to render it remarkable.

Fig. 8

A sense of vastness is maintained even in the event of a gathering or occupation

1

2

pg. 142, Giedion, Sigfried. “The Organization of Outer Space.” Space, Time and Architecture, Harvard University Press, 1970. pg. 87, Moughtin, Cliff. “The Square or Plaza.” Urban Design: Street and Square, Taylor & Francis Group, 2003.

VI. In the Event of Occupation It is hardly surprising, that in an event of a crisis the square becomes the first place to be occupied in protest. It is, after all, a platform that offers contact amongst others, as well as dialogue between protesters and a power the square represents (for example, Tiananmen Square represents Chinese power [see figure 7]). It is both a corporeal contact with other protesters who come to momentarily occupy the space, and a symbolic contact with the city.

To occupy the square, is to occupy the space that maintains an image of power.

The 'power' of the central square feeds a government with a

sense of misticism,

(See, for instance, the Zócalo in central Mexico City [figure 5];

without which neither the Cathedral nor the National Palace

would have an opportunity for the citizen to gawk in awe)

It is an essential part in the narrative of authority Thus, the square is the ultimate place for protest. In this way, -nothingness- in the heart of the city becomes a democratic tool. One that far too often backfires against the very authorities that built them.

This opportunity to form an affinity with others within a public space; for a moment brings the collective identities of the city into the its space.

This event of great value and transcendence would only be possible within the conditions of vastness a square offers. A space porous around its edges, open to the weather, with little or better yet no built objects interrupting the vastness, and that can emmanate a sense of awe to its visitors, even if packed with a crowd.

In the event of a protest or occupation, one is no longer just an individual. The onlooker, or -the walking man- becomes just one of many. The crowd in itself becomes the single occupant of space. Yet even in such an event, where the square is apparently 'full' and 'occupied'; the sense of vastness remains, it continues to be a place for sensory deprivation.

Fig. 9

Small encounters within indivisuals and groups Formation of groups A conversation between groups, and the city

As a place for public discourse, the square is a creative space for the city. A space for rebellion offering the opening of new possibilities. - The walking man - is offered the opportunity to become ambiguous amongst a large crowd that engages in a coversation with the building narrative of the city. These conditions are a moment of exception in the urban context, yet they form an extremely important role in the feeding of a collective identity for the city. A square is both an image of political power, as well as the platform for resistance.

Like the desert, the square is an empty space that offers to become the stage for creation. It is a profoundly creative condition.

Vastness is what provides the outstanding possibility of a place for sensory deprivation; a place for reunion that becomes a referent to the rest of the city as a space for dialogue, creation and protest.

The square is the necessary void in the city; its emptiness is what makes it flexible and that which frames it is what gives it character.

It is both part of an establishment, as well as the platform that allows that same establishment to be challenged.

- Nothingness -, then, be it of a desert or of a square, though in many ways a solitary experience, feeds the collective imagination; and - vastness - is the necesary blank canvas that belongs to everyone.

- Bloody Sunday - Palace Square in St. Petersbourg; a momentous stage for the Russian Revolution

Figures, sources:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

Pg. 27, Govan, Michael, and Christine Y. Kim. James Turrell - A Retrospective. Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Pg. 10, Didi-Huberman, Georges. The Man Who Walked in Color.

Translated by Drew Burk, Univocal, 2017.

Pg. 34, Didi-Huberman, Georges. The Man Who Walked in Color.

Translated by Drew Burk, Univocal, 2017.

Pg. 108, Govan, Michael, and Christine Y. Kim. James Turrell - A Retrospective. Los Angeles County Museum of Art. “Francis Alÿs: The Private View.” e-Flux, Museum Morsbroich, Leverkusen, www.e-flux.com/announcements/272098/francisalsthe-private-view/.

Petersen, Ad. “Helio.” James Turrell, jamesturrell.com/helio/.

May, Tiffany. “Photos of the Tiananmen Square Protests Through the Lens of a Student Witness.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 30 May 2019, www.nytimes.com/2019/05/30/world/asia/ tiananmen-square-protest-photos.html.

Pg. 142, Giedion, Sigfried. “The Organization of Outer Space.” Space, Time and Architecture, Harvard University Press, 1970.

Figes, Orlando. “Bloody Sunday : 1905 The First Russian Revolution : Orlando Figes.” Bloody Sunday : 1905 The First Russian Revolution , www.orlandofiges.info/section2_1905TheFirstRussianRevolution/ BloodySunday.php.