RB: The role of mediation seems to be crucial in underpinning that politics.
SS: Absolutely, yeah. If you take a work like Robert Barry’s Inert Gas releases, for example, these dematerialised gestures in and around LA in March 1969, what that work does in a very clear way is shift the ground from making/performing to mediating. The slightness or insignificance of the gesture lay this relationship open in a very powerful way. That is in itself a political statement, particularly viewed I relationship to a post ’68 awareness of the power of the media.
RB: In your talk yesterday at Cove Park, you mentioned that the mediation of Autoxylopyrocycloboros is an integral and crucial component of the work .
SS: Yes, absolutely.
RB: How will it be mediated? How will it be experienced?
SS: It’s evolving, I think, and I’m trying to let it, as much as possible make itself, in a way. I always feel that with the best work it feels as if it could only be that way – that’s the goal. It has such a clear structure as a performance, if you like, as an action, that I thought it would be nice to build a little bit of space into how it manifests itself in the end and to document and record everything, but then to try and take a step back from that and see how that can be… sort of re-worked, re-presented. So I just feel, I think in a way it’s a little bit off the point, but I feel more and more that there’s, as you say in this kind of culture of spectacle that is sort of engulfing everything, I mean, the art world as much as anything else but, that it’s quite nice to build this kind of sense of distance and mediation into the way you present the work, so you don’t become a kind of clown in a way. And I think it’s been a frustration to people at times in the way that I work, that they feel like they’re not getting everything, they’re not getting the real thing or that somehow what they get is the remains, the kind of mediated remains of something, and… you really felt that, actually, around the kind of discussion around the Turner Prize show. There was a sort of frustration there and a suspicion of work that perhaps uses, you know, a text to give it shape. The Turner Prize, has made me much more resolute in that respect, to really try and develop that side of the work. It’s a little bit of a response to the market as well at the moment, that… it’s quite nice to play a little bit with the sense of what is the art work, where is it, where does it exist? Is it in the action on the water or is it in the documentation of that, and to keep that question as live as possible.
RB: I mean, there’s kind of an obvious parallel in my mind to some of the strategies of Gordon Mark Clark. I mean, just the multiplicity of approaches and then of the remnants, the remains, the designs, the drawings, whatever. But also your interest of his interest in kind of ‘anarchitecture’, kind of anarchic approach to deconstructing architecture, and then the piece that you were referring to that was in the Turner Prize was the piece that was done for Basel first of all, which was this kind of mobile architecture. And the will to remain mobile within the practice itself seems also to be parallel.
SS: And in a way I think perhaps, you know, Matta Clark’s probably suffered a little from dying so young, in a way. I think what’s happened to his work is that it has become, to some degree… I mean, you see gallery shows of his work now and they’re always awful kind of compromised things. You know, you feel that probably now you feel the greatest sense of connection with him in the films that he made. Certainly, he’s one role model in a way, but also of course someone like Robert Smithson, who also worked with this notion of mediation in a very, very complex way. I mean, I can’t begin to touch that, but you know, things like the Spiral Jetty and the movie about the Spiral Jetty. The Spiral Jetty being this almost unattainable, invisible thing that’s as much about anecdote as it is about anything else, and then this film which creates this fantastic, complex, galaxy of ideas around that very tough gesture. That’s was really something.
RB: There’s a proximity with Smithson here, but there’s also an important development and difference. The circularity of the oroboros is different from the spiral, and whereas the spiral might be funny because you end up nowhere and you kind of see yourself going nowhere, the circularity here is not just in the circular motion of the boat, travelling in a circle around Loch Long, but it also introduces a relationship between origin and return in that the boat was originally from the bottom of a lake, Lake Windermere.
Top of next columnSS: It’s a return in that sense. No, I mean, again, it was one of those very lucky additions to the project, in a way, that we found a boat that had been salvaged from the bottom of the lake and given this rather cheesy name ‘Dignity’ as a result of that. It’s just sort of grist to my mill in a way, yeah, it’s another beautiful coincidence. And maybe some day it’ll come back up again. Who knows?
RB: You’ve no plans to exhibit its aftermath?
SS: Not at the moment, no. I think it would be a rather beautiful object, actually, in a way. I think especially probably if you left it down there a while, you know, for the mussels to grow and other things, but I don’t know. I think probably its absence is more powerful.
RB: Narrative seems to be integral to a lot of the work you have made. Although the object might appear fixed, it’s always in some sort of process of decay, the narrative seems to frame and suspend the object so that although you’re looking at, say, the boat ‘Dignity’ at Cove at the moment but also Shedboatshed, you’re looking at an object which contains the narrative of its own construction, deconstruction and re-construction – the marks of the saw, the numbered planks.
SS: Yeah, sure, you can read its history in its scars….start to piece that back together in your mind.
RB: So that even though you’re looking at something which ostensibly looks like a fixed object, it’s always held in some sort of larger narrative.
SS: Exactly. Which I suppose goes back to the discussion about mediation and how you deal with that, so no, for sure.
RB: I suppose the question is how that narrative relates to the visual, to the composition, to the aesthetic?
SS: Yeah. I think in one sense the work that I make, has a very clear, traditionally sculptural sensibility, the investment in the object is very important … and I think that’s a result of the sense of trying to sort of… trying to make the work magnetic enough or something for people to stay with it and to live with it and to then engage with this constellation of stories and ideas that surrounds it all, and that the object, you know, the shed in the museum in Basel, it’s a kind of… yeah, it’s sort of carrying that stuff with it, I mean not in an explicit way, but the scars and the holes and the marks are like some strange cipher or something for gaining access to the bigger picture, the bigger project, and I think the particularities of the objects that I’m deploying in all of these actions or performances, they’re very important. I love the fact that that’s so often out of my hands, in a way, that formally the works make themselves, they take on their own life.
RB: Why the recurrence of the use of boats; for example, in Blue Boat Black at Transmission in ’97, the transformation of that boat, the origin of which was the vitrine, in Shedboatshed the shed was transformed into a boat, but you’ve also used boats like the Loch Long piece for Saõ Paolo and this work for Cove?
SS: On one level it’s very simply about making some kind of a journey and boats are one thing you can do that on, you know, bikes also, cars, you know? On a fundamental level the work’s about trying to connect things, connect histories, connect places, connect ideas and somehow the vehicles are a sort of integral part of that process, on a figurative level, perhaps. Often you actually don’t get anywhere in your journey, you know? I made this project some years ago [Camden Arts Centre, 2001] where I made a solar-powered trip on a little electric moped that I had built, from one d’Habitation building to another across France, and you sort of ended where you began in some way. The d’Habitation buildings are raised above the landscape, they are like vast ships in a bucolic landscape, and somehow it seemed like a nice thing to try and connect those two doppelgangers. They’re also oriented in relation to the sun in exactly the same way in Brie en Forêt, Marseilles and Rezes, and my little tent with its three solar panels had to be also oriented in relation to the sun to make the journey possible. But you end up where you began, in a very real way and a linear journey becomes a closed circle.
RB: This brings us back to where we began, in a way, in terms of research. And maybe in contrast to what I was saying about luck earlier, there’s a specificity to a lot of your work where there’s a specific design or specific knowledge that you must have in order to be able to conduct the journey or what will be the outcome of this engine or how will this operate, so there is obviously a significant amount of planning and research.