Intransitive Recordings

The Sonic Legacy of Jean Tinguely

*****

Discussing art that produces sound has tripped up some of the most brilliant people writing about art and aesthetics. With such a diversity of artistic practices contributing to this medium, I think a new tact is warranted to avoid the pitfalls of stodgy history and clever theory, while at the same time expanding the body of work to  be explored.  This column will try to develop a method of presentation to highlight this diversity and remain conscious of the independence and individuality of these works.

In each column, I will present a micro-history of the artistic use of sound and introduce some work that may be familiar, some work that is rarely discussed, and some whose extant discussion has been clouded by academic arguments or incomplete information.  I’ll  highlight an individual artist or work, a particularly fascinating historical moment, or the work of a curator whose approach may help unravel the knots of exhibiting auditory work.  More than anything, I offer readers raw material to construct a history from what I hope will prove a compelling series of artifacts. – Seth Cluett

JOYFUL DESTRUCTION

The Swiss-born sculptor Jean Tinguely (1925-1991) produced a prolific body of work that spins, rattles, shakes, and implodes. His motors, wheels, junkstore bits, and landfill pieces were an inspiration to artists such as Robert Rauchenberg; his self-destructing work Homage á New York (1960) that destroyed itself in the courtyard of the Museum of Modern Art was among the most progressive work of its time. Often relegated to the genre of ‘Kinetic Art,’ it is possible to trace a life-long engagement with sound, technology, chaos, and indeterminism through his work. More than mere kineticism, these issues expose an engagement with the rapid development and acceptance of technology in the society in which he was working, the destructive side of human nature being assessed in the decades following World War II, and an earnest questioning of the relationship between the spectator and the work of art.

Tinguely’s contribution to the common narrative of sound in art practice has been limited to the production of two sound-specific works in the late fifties. These works, Relief Meta-Mechanique Sonore (1955) and Mes Etoiles – Concert pour Sept Peintres (1958), though their titles evoke sound, are in truth the last in a series of pieces in which sound functioned as a component within a broader base of material and aesthetic concern. Tingely’s engagement with sound began in his teens in the mid-1930s, emerged artistically with the start of his practice in the fifties, and remained a fascination throughout his life. While looking – as well as listening – to his considerable output, it is clear that sound, while not always central, was a deeply important facet of a complete sensory experience of his oeuvre.

In the 1960s, Tinguely began to disassemble technology in two different series of works, radio sculptures and radio drawings. In 1962 alone he produced ten floor standing radio sculptures and 14 wall-mounted radio drawings. These pieces were deconstructions of transistor radios that employed the wires, knobs, speaker, and antennae as the material and a hidden motor and gear assembly that was able to turn the radio volume and tuner. They were exhibited widely in the early sixties through Europe, in New York, and in 1963 at the Minami Gallery in Tokyo. (The exhibition at Minami was attended by Takehisa Kosugi, Toshi Ichiyanagi, and Yasunao Tone – a 7” Record was produced.)

Throughout his life, Tinguely explored the sounds of explosions, as in Homage à New York (1960) and The End of the World (1962); the sound of water, as in The Stravinsky Fountain (1982-83 in collaboration with Niki de Saint-Phalle); and sounds that interrogate music, such as Meta-Harmonie II (1979):

In any given piece, sound might function as the byproduct of moving parts, a sonification of indeterminancy worked out through spinning wheels, or a hidden noise that pours forth via unseen devices buried in the mechanics of gears. But whether the sound of these works was intended or not, the questioning of this intention is both imperative and compelling. Tinguely’s work is at once an art of destruction and child-like simplicity, a critique and a celebration of technology, an exploration of the detritus of our consumption, and well worth our listening.

*****

Seth Cluett (b. 1976, Troy, NY) is an artist, performer, and composer whose work ranges from photography, and drawing to video, sound installation, concert music, and critical writing. His column “Micro-Histories of Sonic Art” appears monthly at Intransitive Recordings.com

Tags: Homage á New York, Ichiyanagi, Intransitive, Jean Tinguely, Mes Etoiles Concert pour Sept Peintres, Meta-Harmonie II, Micro-Histories, Minami Gallery, MoMA, Museum of Modern Art, Niki de Saint-Phalle, Relief Meta-Mechanique Sonore, Robert Rauchenberg, Seth Cluett, Sound Art, Takehisa Kosugi, The Stravinsky Fountain, Toshi, Yasunao Tone

This entry was posted on Sunday, August 8th, 2010 at 12:34 pm and is filed under Micro-Histories of Sound in Art, Sound Art. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.