The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum: B. Wurtz: Four Collections

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B. Wurtz – Four Collections


B. Wurtz: Four Collections

For more than forty years, B. Wurtz has been transforming throwaway objects found in daily life—shoelaces, plastic bags, food containers, buttons, socks, hangers—into elegant, poetic compositions that evoke the condition of being human. Wurtz’s sculptures and wall pieces employ a strategy of arrangement hinged upon a simple and direct means of expression, a balancing of two opposing forces—the cast-off and the collectible, the timeless and the ephemeral—that speaks at once to the mind and the heart. Since 1990, Wurtz has produced an ongoing body of work that he refers to as “pan paintings.” These wall pieces are made from ordinary aluminum food containers and roasting pans purchased at grocery or variety stores. He paints over the patterns and texts on the exterior of the pans with various colors of acrylic paint. These inexpensive and disposable pans transcend socio-economic class, passing through every home; but Wurtz has transformed the ordinary into something invaluable. For The Aldrich, he covers three walls of The Erna D. Leir Gallery, salon style, with his pan paintings. Alongside his own works, on a long shelf, Wurtz presents a collection of common domestic objects he’s been acquiring over the years from second-hand shops and eBay. The objects represent a number of distinctive styles and periods, and have no immediate connection to each other: from American Brilliant cut glassware to Wedgwood pottery and mid-century Danish modern Krenit bowls. In bringing them together, Wurtz offers up a compelling dialogue about high art, decorative art, form and function, as well as the act of collecting.

Curator Amy Smith-Stewart discusses the exhibition with B. Wurtz. — Amy Smith-Stewart: You’ve been working with found objects since 1970 and have noted Duchamp’s ready-mades and Warhol’s Brillo boxes as early influences; one could also add Arte Povera’s embrace of humble materials. The pan paintings series reminds me of On Kawara’s date paintings; as with diary entries, there’s a concern with ma(r)king time. Do you see them as cyphers of experience—outtakes of a daily ritualism? B. Wurtz: Hmmm! I don’t think I would have talked about them in those terms when I started making them, but I like your insight. Although I’ve never cited On Kawara as an influence, I’ve been thinking about him lately, mainly because of his retrospective at the Guggenheim. His paintings were simple yet elegant, and his subject matter was also simple, yet loaded with meaning, really boundless meaning. In my own work I have used text that includes dates, days of the week, and/or times of the day. This is all to say how knowing his work MUST have influenced me! In regard to the pan paintings, I have always included my name and the year painted very visibly on the front (which is technically the bottom of the pan). Since I began this series in 1990, the passage of time has been, and continues to be, recorded. Many years ago, I remember thinking how I might talk about my work if asked to sum it up briefly. The phrase “daily life” came to mind. I even used


B. Wurtz, Untitled (pan paintings), 1992–2002 Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York

it as the title of a solo exhibition in 1993. The pan paintings come out of real daily life, and I think the aspect of the ritual comes from the fact that they have remained a constant in our world; at least the world in the US. I never remember NOT knowing of aluminum pans, and their continued use shows no sign of disappearing. This is so different from many domestic items that disappear with time because of being replaced by something new, or no longer being needed at all. The pans remain as they have always existed, except for the introduction of slightly different patterns on the bottom. Because of the addition of color, I think these pieces take on the character of ritual objects. It’s like dressing up one day a year to take part in a parade. AS: The pan paintings oscillate between painting and object. Their surfaces pulsate with colorful patterns of red, yellow, green, orange, and blue color hues. They appear like geometric abstractions, but their compositions are predetermined not by you, but by a nameless maker, as you accentuate the full range of their embossed designs. As with haikus, the simplicity of these works is what makes them so captivating, yet also so surprising, as one is left to wonder how something so plain spoken could be so wondrous. What possessed you to

make a painting from a take-out pan? Is there an inherent humor to this, or just a formal preoccupation/appreciation? And what has propelled your compulsion to continue? BW: The first pan I painted had arrived at our apartment as part of a phone-in dinner delivery, in 1990. I saved items like that for recycling even before it was mandatory in New York City. I hauled our recyclable items from the Lower East Side to a special place in the West Village, where a small recycling organization existed. Crazy, right? But I was a pretty hard-core environmentalist from early on and felt it was worth the effort. Later, there was a special drop-off site around the corner from where we lived. I loved how close it was! Hardly anyone recycled then, and I don’t remember how much later it was that the city implemented the existing program. But you can see why I had more than a casual relationship with those items. I think what happened was that I just started noticing and then paying special attention to the patterns on the bottoms of the pans, and as you said, enjoyed the fact that anonymous people had designed them. And, yes, in a jokey way I thought it would be interesting to use the patterns as


something like a readymade abstract painting. “All” I had to do was choose colors. I absolutely thought of them as paintings from the very beginning, and all that implied in relation to the bigger subject of the history of “painting.” Of course, they were sculptures too, and I really liked that aspect. The sides of the pans are very “there” visually, and relate to my experience of making and looking at paintings on canvas and linen that are stretched over wooden stretcher bars. I could NEVER ignore the edges. Maybe I have a slightly bratty way of challenging the ideas of what qualifies as a proper painting or sculpture, but I also delight in exploring formal concerns. I think a lot about beauty and aesthetics. The first pan painting was made in 1990, but then I made the second, the third, etc. Even though I felt the first one stood on its own as a single work, I liked (and still do) how groups of them looked on the wall. And then, as with any collection, I wondered how more and more of them would look together. It was my early intention to make it an ongoing series. AS: In a small catalogue from 1993, Daily Life 1970–1993, you mentioned three specific categories for the works that you were making at the time (and still make). They all orbited around basic needs for human survival: food, shelter, clothing. How did these works mirror your own conditions/concerns as an artist and a human being living in New York City, both in the 1990s and today? Do these works carry new meaning for you as they have traveled over time? BW: Yes, that catalogue accompanied the show I mentioned where I actually used “daily life” as the title. Choosing the categories of “food, clothing and shelter” limited the kinds of found objects I used in my work and made it a manageable task. Otherwise, I realized I would be overwhelmed. There are just too many interesting objects in the world. But it was also more than that. Perhaps it was a bit of a political or philosophical statement in that I

Herbert Krenchel, Krenit Bowl, Midcentury Danish Modern

thought about what was actually really important in life. If those basics of existence are covered, then what really does anyone need to be happy? Does extra money make one happier? “Money doesn’t buy love,” as they say. I grew up in a comfortable upper-middle-class background and got a college degree, but I wasn’t naive. I knew that choosing the strange life of an artist was not going to be financially rewarding. I knew that as an adult, too: in Santa Barbara, where I grew up; later in Los Angeles; and then in New York City, where I moved with my wife Ann in 1985. New York was a much rougher place in the eighties and early nineties than it is today, and particularly the Lower East Side. But, even in the leanest of times, we always had clothes to wear, food to eat, and a place to live. It’s true, we didn’t see expensive Broadway plays or eat in expensive restaurants, but we were in a fascinating city with like-minded people. If I look at the pans today, I guess they do represent my time in New York City. I see them as joyful objects related to what is good in life. I’ve had a long existence, with bad along with good. Being depressed does not necessarily mean lacking in the essentials of maintaining one’s body. Maybe the pans symbolize survival to me. I’ve always thought of the pan paintings as being a bit like flowers: sturdy and stable, but only under certain conditions, like so much of what is beautiful in the world. AS: There is a delicate tension between the objects you collect, which inform your artistic activities, and the objects you choose to incorporate into your works. How do the personalities of the materials determine your method/means of making/transforming? BW: The found objects, such as shoelaces, food containers, and socks, have certain physical qualities that play into the overall formal look of the work I make. For example, if I feel the need for a linear element, then I might use a shoelace, in the way I might draw a line with a pencil or pen. But I never want those found objects to be subsumed into some larger gestalt in which their identities become obscured or hidden. It is very important to me that they retain their identities, their personalities, and the evidence of what their actual use is in the world. I want to honor the role they play in serving us in our lives. AS: These works are tied to your daily habits, encounters, walks, and even food shopping. When you look back, do any of them represent a particular memory for you? Do you ever look at a pan painting from 1991 and think, “that’s B. at age forty-three”? BW: Oh yes, thinking of and seeing that first pan painting makes me remember the small loft we


B. Wurtz, Three Important Things, 1973 Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York

B. Wurtz, Untitled (shoe lace drawing), 2012 Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York

lived in, as well as people and things associated with that time. I think of that pan on the wall, where I first hung it. Images in my head expand from there. Over the years, people have given me found objects which I’ve ended up using in my art—so I remember the person when I see the artwork. But I have a very poor sense of time, so I don’t feel any different now as an older person than I did at age forty-three (which, by the way, was actually not that young either!). But the same thing would apply to when I was twenty-three. A lot of people my age feel the same way.

The Krenit bowl collection started with a large green one I found in a thrift store. I then came upon a number of them (in the 1990s) in a store called Las Venus on the Lower East Side. Las Venus still exists but the prices are now quite high; it has become a serious store for hardcore collectors and high-end designers. In the 1990s the prices were quite inexpensive. Those Krenit bowls were hard to resist, because of their vibrant enamel colors in combination with the somber dark-colored metal. Our house is still full of finds from the early days of Las Venus, including Eames furniture, Italian plastic furniture from the 1970s, dishes, and lamps. It’s incredible to me that I got so much on a very limited budget. A nice thing about the Krenit bowls is that they stack well and take up a really small amount of space.

AS: At The Aldrich, three walls are filled salon style with pan paintings from 1991 to 2015. Alongside these works is a selection of objects you collect, spanning several centuries, design periods, and ranges of materials: Wedgwood pottery, American Brilliant cut glass, and midcentury Danish Krenit bowls. There are evident formal connections to be made between these household objects and your works: surface, pattern, color. When did you start collecting these objects, and what initially drew you to them? BW: Those collections have distinct stories that go with them. While I have always had the impulse to collect, I have had to restrain myself due to space issues. I just don’t have room to store a lot of things along with making (and storing) a lot of art. It’s just as well, because I really don’t like clutter.

The other two groups of items partly appeal to me because they hold very little interest to most people in the contemporary world, meaning that I could purchase them on eBay for very little money. My grandfather had a large collection of American Brilliant cut glass that came from his parents. He gave all of it to my mother when I was growing up and I ended up with a couple of bowls, while my sister now has most of the collection. At some point I wondered what might be available on eBay. I discovered that while some pieces had high starting bids, others had extremely low ones, and that often no one else would bid on those pieces with the lower


starting bids. Basically I got bargains because clearly there are very few collectors of this stuff. The Jasperware pottery collection started because I saw an interesting piece in a thrift store and the price was $70. “Adams” was stamped on the bottom and I was curious what it was and why it looked so similar to Wedgwood. I didn’t buy it, certainly not at that price, but was curious and went home and looked up Adams on the Internet. It turned out it was developed by someone who had worked for Josiah Wedgwood and then started his own company. Going to eBay I found that the Adams Ware was quite inexpensive compared to Wedgwood, and it was fun seeing what I could find. I also managed to find some Wedgwood pieces for not much money. eBay is somewhat unpredictable and that is part of the fun. The Jasperware has a personal meaning for me because Marjorie, our next door neighbor in Santa Barbara when I was growing up, had a large collection of Wedgwood. Marjorie was someone I really loved; she was like family to me. Those pieces were old and large with unusual colors, like yellow. I was always fascinated by them. AS: I can’t help but think of the installation like a Greek play: the gods on one side and the chorus on the other. What are the implications of showing these objects in direct relation, how do they inform each other? BW: Well, as you said, there are some interesting formal relations between the pan paintings and the other three collections. That can be seen just by looking. But all the items are also containers that (I had thought) could be used for food. When my mother got the cut glass from my grandfather, she decided she wanted to use it all for serving food instead of just as decorative objects. One evening she served a hot vegetable in one of the bowls and a large crack dramatically burst into being, destroying the bowl. It was saying loudly, “We don’t want to work, we just want to be admired!” The aluminum pans might be described as the working class and the other items as the aristocracy. In fact, that does pretty well describe their place in the world at a certain time in history. But the irony is that the Krenit bowls have been re-issued in a cheaper way that does not look or feel the same as the originals. The new versions are inexpensive to buy. As I said, the other two groups of items have very little appeal to the modern world. So, regarding the aluminum pans, who has the last laugh? AS: As your works are inspired from what is to be found in the world, what is it like to show the pan paintings beside everyday collectibles? What does it tell us about high/low distinctions of value and taste?

B. Wurtz, Untitled (pan paintings), 1996–2002 Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York

Is there an attempt to defy or disrupt such easy categorization, or is it really about unveiling the mystique of the artist by putting inspiration on display? BW: I think I addressed this a bit in my response to the previous question. I wonder if the response might be better left to the opinions of others. I will say this: I did enjoy the idea of putting all these things together and maybe messing with people’s heads. I will never deny the historical, political, and sociological inferences that can be taken from this motley group. But I also just love looking at these items together and putting all the rest of that aside. It is fun to just look at them in a visual way, to see what happens formally with the forms, the colors, the textures, etc. In my mind, I do see everything as rather equal. I enjoy doing that once in a while, just leveling everything and not making a judgment about whether something is better than anything else. I think we must remember, I did choose all of these objects, so I guess it is ultimately about me. AS: Since there are apparently endless permutations of aluminum food containers for sale out there, do you think your compulsion will ever end? Is it now a part of you, as it’s already journeyed twenty-seven years, or is there anything that would ever compel you to stop? BW: I certainly can see continuing with the series indefinitely, but I predict there will be a long break after this exhibition. This has actually been a dream of mine for many years, to have a large room filled with these pan paintings. Now that the wish has been fulfilled, I think it’s time to concentrate on other things. B. Wurtz was born in Pasadena, California, in 1948 and lives and works in New York City.


Works in the Exhibition All dimensions h x w x d in inches

B. Wurtz Untitled (pan paintings), 1991–2015 Acrylic on aluminum Dimensions variable Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York Nine Krenit Bowls, Midcentury Danish Modern Herbert Krenchel Black acid-proof enameled steel 1½ x3½ x3½ Blue acid-proof enameled steel 2¼x5x5 Green acid-proof enameled steel 5 ¾ x 10 x 10 Orange acid-proof enameled steel 1½ x3½x3½ Orange acid-proof enameled steel 2¼x5x5

Orange acid-proof enameled steel 3x6¼x6¼ Orange acid-proof enameled steel 3x6¼x6¼ Orange acid-proof enameled steel 5 ¾ x 10 x 10 Orange acid-proof enameled steel 5 ¾ x 10 x 10 Nine Jasperware Ceramics Josiah Wedgwood and Sons 1759–present Portland Vase, ca. 1839 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 4x3x3 Bowl, pre–1891 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 2x3¼x3¼ Bowl, ca. 1930–1969 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 2x3¼x3¼

Pitcher, ca. 1948 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 7¾x4¾x3¼ William Adams & Sons (Potters) Ltd. 1769–1966 Bowl, ca. 1880–1910 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 3x5x4¼ Pitcher, ca. 1880–1910 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 2¾x4½x3½ Plate, ca. 1880–1910 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 7¾x7¾x1 Vase, ca. 1880–1910 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 5¼x4x4 Vase, ca. 1880–1910 Jasperware with blue pigment, unglazed 5¾x5¾x5¾ Nine American Brilliant Glass Works 1876–1917

Bowl Clear cut glass 1¾x6x6 Bowl Clear cut glass 2¾x4x4 Bowl Clear cut glass 2¼x8x8 Bowl Clear cut glass 2½x7x7 Bowl Clear cut glass 4x8x8 Glass Clear cut glass 3¾x3x3 Vase Clear cut glass 6½x4x4 Decanter Clear cut glass 8x5½5½ Decanter Clear cut glass 7x6½x6½ Collection of B. Wurtz


The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum Founded by Larry Aldrich in 1964, The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum is dedicated to fostering the work of innovative artists whose ideas and interpretations of the world around us serve as a platform to encourage creative thinking. It is the only museum in Connecticut devoted to contemporary art, and throughout its fifty-year history, has engaged its community through thought provoking interdisciplinary programs.

Board of Trustees Eric G. Diefenbach, Chairman; Linda M. Dugan, Vice-Chairman; William Burback, Treasurer/ Secretary; Diana Bowes; Chris Doyle; Annabelle K. Garrett; Georganne Aldrich Heller, Honorary Trustee; Michael Joo; Neil Marcus; Kathleen O’Grady; Lori L. Ordover; Martin Sosnoff, Trustee Emeritus; John Tremaine Alyson Baker, Executive Director Larry Aldrich (1906–2001), Founder

Cover B. Wurtz, Untitled (pan painting), 2013 Courtesy of the artist and Metro Pictures, New York

258 Main Street Ridgefield, CT 06877 203.438.4519 aldrichart.org

B. Wurtz Four Collections Curated by Amy Smith-Stewart May 3 to October 25, 2015 The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum

The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum, in addition to significant support from its Board of Trustees, receives contributions from many dedicated friends and patrons. Major funding for Museum programs and operations has been provided by the Department of Economic and Community Development, Connecticut Office of the Arts; the Anna-Maria and Stephen Kellen Foundation; The Leir Chairitable Foundations; the Goldstone Family Foundation; and the Anne S. Richardson Fund. Generous support for exhibitions has been provided by the SAHA Association, The Coby Foundation, and The Pollock-Krasner Foundation, Inc.


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