The studio as physical, mental and temporal location

The studio as physical, mental and temporal location

What Art offers is space - a certain breathing room for the spirit- John Updike

Although the artist's studio is seen primarily as a physical space it can also be thought of as a mental and psychological space and I want to question therefore whether we can transpose this idea of the studio's psychological freedom to other spaces or places, and to try and identify the conditions of how this may occur.

One of the aims of this text is to discuss how the production of artworks and in particular the activity artists undertake in a studio, or other place, can offer this 'breathing room for the spirit', and how this studio/place can offer a 'place of dreaming' (Bachelard 1964).

To do this I will need to think about the studio itself, discussing what it has represented in contemporary art and art theory, how it is, and has been used, how it has been contextualised, and will then go on to speculate where else artists and makers may be able to locate this 'breathing space' with reference to their own practice.

I would like to suggest that a walk or other activity external to the studio may act as this mediative doing/thinking space, as it may also be argued that although often we are physically in the landscape/studio we are often travelling somewhere entirely different mentally, at the same time. The idea of working and travelling in these coincident and often simultaneous ways will form another of the main enquiries of this investigation. Firstly, a standard dictionary definition of 'studio' is as follows;

Studio

The workroom or atelier of an artist, as a painter or sculptor.

A room or place for instruction or experimentation in one of the performing arts: a dance studio.

A room or set of rooms specially equipped for broadcasting radio or television programs, making phonograph records, filming motion pictures, etc.

(https://www.dictionary.com/)

Caroline A Jones writing in The Studio Reader (2010) explains the position of the studio or historic studio as we have accepted it, in the following way, and states that;

The studio was a particularly privileged kind of signifier in the contested discourse on authorship and the industrial aesthetic in the 1960's. Securely modernist in the immediate post-war period, the solitary space of the studio was a guarantor of the Abstract Expressionist canvas's authenticity, its presence as an individuating object created (authorized) by an isolated, heroic artist-genius. The films and photographs that constructed such a view of the studio also sutured a particular subject: the viewer of these popularizations was structured as a privileged voyeur, witnessing a deeply private act of creation in the studio that would also be figured on the canvases that issued from it" (Jones, 2010, p296)

The 'Studio' has lots of different meanings and connotations and artists have expressed their ideas about this making place in many different ways. Artists have worked in studios, outside of the studio and in site specific arenas, but my suggestion is that all these places and activities have one thing in common and that is to offer the artist/maker/composer somewhere where they can be mentally free, somewhere to accept that transaction of making an artwork, free from the pressures or interferences from an 'outside' world. My suggestion is that all artists need to be able to find this 'space to dream' and we seek and find it in different ways. To enjoy the possibilities of practical work this is an important aspect, and the studio becomes a psychological 'safe place' where one can exercise a part of their personality or practice.

Fig.1. Willem de Kooning in his studio, East Hampton, Long Island, 1966

Courtesy Masters & Masterworks Productions

The Willem De Kooning Foundation

When discussing the traditional roles, readings and activities of the Modernist studio, Alison Dalwood at a recent lecture at the University of Hertfordshire suggested that the canvas is no longer a place for an artist to put himself/herself, but instead a place in which to 'open up the world' (Dalwood, 2019). She also goes on to say that "an artwork needs to include within it, the means to understand it" There is some agreement in regards to a Post-Modernist/Alter-modernist reading of this point by Nicolas Bourriaud in 'Relational Aesthetics when he says that "To be fully an artwork, it must also put forward concepts necessary for the working of these affects and percepts, as part of a total experience of thought" (Bourriaud, 1998, p101). Bourriaud goes on to say, when discussing the writings of Felix Guattari, that it would seem sensible "to define art as a construction of concepts with the help of percepts and affects, aimed at a knowledge of the world". (Bourriaud, 1998, p101). The heroic artist of modernism was perhaps attempting to do this also, but there is generally a more 'romantic' reading of his plight. We can see that the studio and its connotations now exist in order for us not just to explore the surface of the canvas, or the artist's personality, but instead to explore the world.

So the studio or site of reflection has a particular geographic location and the artist is both inside this physical location whilst also exploring the outside world (mentally), a world composed of thoughts, memories and experiences. There is maybe a shift in our thinking of a traditional artist's approach here as we might initially think that we go in to the studio in a bid to understand ourselves, but perhaps what we actually do is to open up the world for our own understanding. Perhaps in a roundabout way this amounts to the same thing. This idea of tackling or accessing the outside realm provides one of the contexts for the work, and in this way any outcome produced can be seen to be a 'recording' of this meeting point of information and influence, or perhaps as a merging of these two realms.

The following conversation is recorded in the collection of essays, 'The Studio Reader, On the space of artists', from 2010 edited by Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor, in the text provided by Amanda Bowers. I have taken the first section of a conversation between her and her friend, the artist Tucker Stilley and it is as follows;

Andrea Bowers Most people think about the studio in terms of a physical space.

Tucker Stilley Its really more a question of the creative space, the skeleton you hang stuff on

AB Your definition seems to internalize the studio, removing any need for the physical or architectural: the site of the studio isn't a location; it's inside the artist

(Bowers, 2010, Studio Reader, p332)

The philosopher Gaston Bachelard wrote in the 'Poetics of Space' that, "If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say the house shelters daydreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace" (Bachelard 1964, p28).

For this text I would also like to suggest that house can mean studio, and the dreaming that he speaks of is enmeshed with artistic activity and that an artwork could be described as a physical manifestation of this daydreaming. When we think and make, and think through making, we can be outside of our conscious state, and inhabiting this nether world that the studio allows us, it is the function and purpose of a studio. The house/studio/garage is a place where art making and daydreaming can happen; secure, warm, cave-like, a place of tools, objects and materials of the world with which to 'make'. The outcomes being an understanding of the world, our relationship to it, or an active record of this process. "I think one of the things that's interesting about art is that it holds all these aspects of yourself: your intellect, your autobiography, your emotional life, your sense of humor. It holds all these things about you, half of which you're helpless to keep out of it (Hammond 1993 p115 - interview from, Inside the Studio, edited by Richards 2003)

So if we say that the studios or places of work have different roles and meanings we can say the same for the artwork and the methods by which artists are producing this artwork. In his book Relational Aesthetics Nicolas Bourriaud states that "The role of artworks is no longer to form imaginary and utopian realities but to actually be ways of living and models of action within the existing real, whatever the scale chosen by the artist (Bourriaud, 1998, p13)

This may seem to connect with the views expressed by Alison Dalwood in her lecture, that the canvas is not anymore a site for the artist's character or vision but something else. I also want to suggest here that as the world opens up to us in the studio or in our thinking space it automatically allows us to consider the everyday as an artistic practice, as we start to see our place within it and that our everyday 'models of action' can be understood as part of the process of making an artwork.

I would suggest that a walk may offer the same benefits to us as a space where we find ourselves able to access our space for dreaming. The act of walking can be seen as an aesthetic act, an everyday banal act, a mode of transport and an active engagement with the landscape. The walk also offers a chance for a separation of direct experience or disengagement.

"Within the group of purposive walking, particular practices can be identified that are characterized by bodily disengagement. Walking while listening to a Walkman or iPod, walking while talking on the mobile phone, and walking while eating are just a few examples" (Wunderlich. 2008, p131)

If we say that the conditions of art making correspond in the studio to mean mental liberation, if the studio is a place for practical activity and mental freedom, the walk is the same. While walking we experience both this physical activity and mental freedom, we are very rarely in the landscape mentally, as we are physically, we experience this disembodiment in the same way, and this situation offers us a place for dialogue, an opportunity to be able to try and understand and record both processes and so, in bringing ideas of the walk together it's seen as not just one thing, it's a 'Robinsonner', a mental walk, it's a physical walk, it's an active walk, it's in the landscape, it's moving through the landscape, potentially affected by the landscape, or it ignores the landscape.

If the walk is a space to dream, if the walk is somewhere where you don't think about the walk but you think about everything else, and couple that with the idea that you can't do the same walk twice, so that everything is brand new then theoretically we should see everything afresh each time we undertake a new walk. Except when you do walk, you do think of similar things, so there are triggers and things like that so maybe it's not about the walk, maybe it's about memory, or maybe it's about having the space to have that, maybe the space to think, of other things, new things and old, it could be about memory, and place. The walk is also about an everyday and repeatable act in any given space.

In his article Walking and Rhythmicity, Filipa Matos Wunderlich states that "Walking is an experience we are not conscious of, ignoring its potential as an aesthetic, creative or simply insightful practice" (Wunderlich. 2008, p125), however it is my contention that when we do think about this act in a different way, then it does become part of an aesthetic act. If you do something every day, over and over again, you can start to think about it differently, because when you are doing it over and over again you actually start not to think about the thing you are doing because that becomes second nature, you start to think about other things, and potentially this is what art- making is, this space for thinking, and this consideration of different meaning. Some forty years earlier it was Joseph Beuys who said that "Even the act of peeling a potato can be an artistic act if it is consciously done". (Winkenweder p239; Beuys cited in The Studio Reader 2010), developing on a John Cage statement twenty years previous to that when he said that "Art when it is art...is not separate from life, nor is dishwashing when it is done in this spirit" (Winkenweder p239; Cage cited in The Studio Reader 2010),

In the same piece Wunderlich goes on to say that "in his study on the experience of passing environments, Justin Winkler introduces us to walking as a "quite ancient condition of perception (and thinking)" that is in constant flow. "It is an activity that nurtures and assists fleeting perceptions and ever-recurring engagements, which forms the basis for 'an everyday aesthetics'" (Winkler, 2002, p.8 cited in Wunderlich. 2008, p128), suggesting that we may draw an aesthetic experience from this most mundane of everyday activities.

These everyday things come into the work precisely because the studio has changed; we can think of Robert Rauschenberg collecting an item of 'stuff' every day, through New York when he was walking on his way to the studio, and we can look at Claes Oldenburg, who has brought trash in from the street, and elevated it as high art. These two examples were addressing different ideas, but nonetheless, addressing something similar about the idea of that everyday 'thing' coming in to the studio.

We bring the everyday into our work as an experience because our idea of the studio has changed, so it's not that Modernist place where an artist would sit in seclusion, tormenting his personal vision, tormented by his personal vision, that, the idea has changed and moved.

The walk doesn't replace the studio but the walk does encourage the thoughts of the everyday into the studio, as the walk gives us space to think, but also reflections on the landscape, on ourselves within it, reflections on the objects we find, the memories that we think about when we are walking along, so it does encourage thoughts of the everyday back into the studio; we can think of it in that way.

If I am suggesting that the conditions of Art making mean mental liberation, so if the studio is a place for practical activity and mental freedom, the walk is the same, and therefore maybe a train journey could be described as a 'studio' also because there is often that sense of physical presence and mental absence. Most of the time, when undertaking a train journey I would suggest we are thinking about other things; we are looking out of the window, thinking about something that happened the day before, or we are looking at a fellow passenger thinking about what's happening in their life and constructing narratives about them, which are wholly, invented. And so if the conditions of art making are mental liberation and the state of that, then that is what we need to achieve before we begin the process of making art, which leads us to think about John Cages quote;

"When you start working, everybody is in your studio- the past, your friends, enemies, the art world, and above all, your own ideas- all are there. But as you continue painting, they start leaving, one by one, and you are left completely alone. Then, if you are lucky, even you leave" (John Cage cited in www.goodreads.com, 2019).

Because of the nature of this studio non-place, we can bring ideas of the everyday in, because that's what we are travelling through. Let's say we are on a walk, as we are travelling through the landscape and those experiences can come in to us and form, and be part of the work or the thinking of the work, so it seems quite natural of that everyday quality, but perhaps we shouldn't call it the everyday, perhaps it's just another experience, and that, if we think about what Jane Hammond says, that becomes part of the work and that becomes part of the thing that you are talking about in the work, when you get back to the studio.

Were we to go on the same walk every morning, when we are on this walk we may think about lots of other things, we may rarely think about the walk, we may rarely think about the landscape we are in, our mind is usually somewhere else, and this can happen in the studio also. We quite often are thinking about other things as we move through the processes of our making and therefore our work also speaks of this potential, this potential of being somewhere else or having the possibility of a time and a space that isn't recognisably our time and space, at that current point, but is actually a site for something else. The nineteenth century writer Arthur Machen was an early exponent of psychogeographic writing and wrote often about being in a particular geographic place while also experiencing some aspect of the 'otherworldly'. He was an advocate of looking beyond the normal and trying to see the special in ordinary circumstances and objects, claiming that "I think it is easier to discern the secret beauty and wonder and mystery in humble and common things than in the splendid and noble and storied things" (Machen, 1924, p75, cited in Coverley, 2018, p52), with Merlin Coverly in his book 'Psychogeography' going on to say that "For Machen, the trained eye can reveal the eternal behind the commonplace" (Coverley, 2018, p52).

And so what interest me in this aspect, and this transaction of walking, is what happens to our thoughts. We are able to travel mentally, to 'Robinsonner', as Rimbaud would have it, we are able to gain similar mental freedoms to that which we experience in the studio. Merlin Coverly writes that "Rimbaud's peripatetic existence has been well documented, but his lesser known contribution to the realms of imaginary travel is memorialised in the verb 'robinsonner', coined by Rimbaud himself and meaning 'to let the mind wander- or to travel mentally" (Sturrock 1990, p37 cited in Coverly, 2018, p85)

To further develop and perhaps to update our ideas of the function of the studio Katy Siegel suggests in The Studio Reader that;

"The ideal of the artist as genius has transferred seamlessly to a long roster of post-studio artists, while equally obviously post-studio art has not proved particularly resistant to the market; installations, performances and site-specific work of all kind have garnered enormous financial and social success. Pushing aside these judgements, pro and con, the studio is most continually interesting for the way in which it embodies two things: the relation between the production of art and other kinds of production in a society at a given moment, and the relation between work and life (Siegel in Studio Reader 2010, p311), and goes on to say;

"For me, and I think for many artists, the studio as it has existed historically is not one of the "frames, envelopes, and limits" that, as Daniel Buren wrote, "enclose and constitute the work of art". On the contrary, the studio is attractive precisely because it represents expanse, an expanse both temporal and spatial" (Siegel, The Studio Reader 2010, p311)

Fig.2. Charles Avery Untitled (Flat Map), 2008 © Charles Avery

This expanse and this different reading are also hinted at and discussed by Nicolas Bourriaud when he discusses 'Altermodern' artworks that weave together lots of different ideas including discussions of images, space, time, text and global journey. He maintains that such work is also dealing with issues of space and time, building in multiple histories as well as the present, in lots of different ways, and dealing with this spatial and temporal position in new 'altermodernist' ways. He would describe this work as 'Relational' and states that Relational (art) is "a set of artistic practices which take as their theoretical and practical point of departure the whole of human relations and their social context, rather than an independent and private space" (Bourriaud, 1998, p113). This would seem to support the idea of a multifunctioning studio, somewhere which is both place and placeless, of its time and of 'other' times all at once. In the text that accompanied the Tate Triennial Altermodern exhibition Bourriaud explains that "These differing modes of displacement indicate, more generally, a fragmentation of the work of art. No longer can a work be reduced to the presence of an object in the here and now; rather, it consists of a significant network whose interrelationships the artist elaborates, and whose progression in time and space he or she controls: a circuit, in fact" (Bourriaud, 2009, p14).

One of the artists whose work was exhibited in the Altermodern show at the Tate Gallery was Charles Avery and in the accompanying text to his work he suggests this very point, that the artwork is not just the object but could also in fact be tied up in the production of the object. He says that "It can be said that an artist acts, and means their actions to have significance: they intent to intend. The artwork is the manifestation of this action, and may be the action itself" (Avery, cited in Altermodern, 2009, p50). Perhaps in some way we can also take from this assertion that the artwork also 'is' the studio as they are bound together. If the action of walking and thinking becomes to the studio, so the artwork becomes it too because it is inseparable from this activity. If the artwork is a manifestation of the action, and the action is studio, therefore they are in an inextricable relation, with the artwork somehow 'containing' the studio.

Lane Relyea in her essay Studio Unbound discusses how the studio might function today and relates the studio to the art school and the exhibition. She states that "No longer does the studio appear as an ideological frame that mystifies production, a space where the realities of social or mass production are supposedly held at bay in favour of an antiquated craft model that showcases the individual artist's creative genius. And no longer is the studio seen as belonging to a "system" such as Buren described, as a space characterized by boxlike enclosures, of "frames and limits", each assigned a discreet place in some rigid, stable, and all determining structure or order. What system or structure does exist today is more properly described as a network" (Relyea, in The Studio Reader, 2010, p345)

"Today studio and Museum are superceded by more temporal, transient events, spaces of fluid interchange between objects, activities and people (Relyea, The Studio Reader, 2010, p344)

So the studio is now seen as a social space, a network, part of a history, and a place both in and outside its own time. Perhaps the studio is also a state of mind. The final word goes to Suzanne Lacy who says;

Within the studio there is silence, waiting. There we attempt to be present, in a specific place and at a particular moment, by paying attention: suspending perceptual closure and judgement, resisting conventional ways of knowing, being deeply curious about and open to what arises. Free, if only for seconds, from external disruption, many thoughts or sensations are possible: staring pleasurably, meditating, daydreaming, inventing, imagining nonsense, creating images, focusing intently, or unexpectedly resolving a problem. The despair of artists everywhere is the absence of time in this place. (Suzanne Lacy, Studio Reader p317)

PICTURE CREDITS

• Willem de Kooning in his studio, East Hampton, Long Island, 1966

Courtesy Masters & Masterworks Productions

Taken from The Willem de Kooning Foundation, https://www.dekooning.org/the-artist/documentation/24#24

Accessed 07/04/2019

• Charles Avery Untitled (Flat Map), 2008 © Charles Avery.

Taken from https://isayitjusttoreachyou.blogspot.com/2010/03/

Accessed 09/04/2019

REFERENCES

• Post-Studio/Postmodern/Postmortem, Caroline A. Jones p286-301 in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• Transgressions Beyond the Picture Surface, Alison Dalwood, own notes taken from a lecture at the University of Hertfordshire, (delivered 27th February 2019, 15.00-16.30 B404 Hutton Building).
• The aesthetic paradigm (Felix Guattari and art) p86-105, Nicolas Bourriaud. Relational Aesthetics. (1998). Les presses du reel.
• The aesthetic paradigm (Felix Guattari and art), p86-105, Nicolas Bourriaud. Relational Aesthetics. (1998). Les presses du reel.
• Andrea Bowers, p332-335, in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• Chapter 1, The House. From Cellar to Garret. The Significance of the Hut, p25-57, Gaston Bachelard. 1964. The Poetics of Space. Penguin Classics.
• Jane Hammond, March 22, 1993. Studio, SoHo, p114-117 in Judith Olch Richards (Editor). 2004. Inside The Studio; Two Decades of Talks with Artists in New York. ICI. New York.
• Relational form, p11-24, Nicolas Bourriaud. Relational Aesthetics. (1998). Les presses du reel.
• Walking and Rhythmicity: Sensing Urban Space, p125-139. Filipa Matos Wunderlich. 2008. Walking and Rhythmicity: Sensing Urban Space. Journal of Urban Design, vol.13. No.1, 125-139. Routledge.
• Walking and Rhythmicity: Sensing Urban Space, p125-139. Filipa Matos Wunderlich. 2008. Walking and Rhythmicity: Sensing Urban Space. Journal of Urban Design, vol.13. No.1, 125-139. Routledge.
• "An interview with Joseph Beuys" Artforum 7 Willoughby Sharp, (1969):45, -in, The Kitchen as Art Studio: Gender, Performance, and Domestic Aesthetics, Brian Winkenweder, p239-250, cited in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• 'Letter to the editor of Musical America', John Cage,April 1, 1951.Reprinted in Conversations with Cage, ed. Richard Kostelanetz (New York: Limelight, (1988), 92-94, cited in, The Kitchen as Art Studio: Gender, Performance, and Domestic Aesthetics, Brian Winkenweder, p239-250, in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• Working on the experience of passing environments: on commented walks, 2002, in: J. Winkler (Ed.) Space, Sound and Time: A Choice of Articles in Soundscape Studies and aesthetics of Environment 1990-2003, cited in Walking and Rhythmicity: Sensing Urban Space, p125-139. Filipa Matos Wunderlich. 2008. Walking and Rhythmicity: Sensing Urban Space. Journal of Urban Design, vol.13. No.1, 125-139. Routledge.
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• The London Adventure, or the Art of Wandering, Arthur Machen, London: Martin Secker, 1923, p.75, cited in Merlin Coverley. 2006. Psychogeography. Pocket Essentials. Oldcastle Books
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• Celine: Journey to the End of the Night, John Sturrock, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press- cited in Merlin Coverley. 2006. Psychogeography. Pocket Essentials. Oldcastle Books
• Live/Work, Katy Siegel,p311-316, in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• Live/Work, Katy Siegel,p311-316, in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• Glossary p113, Nicolas Bourriaud. Relational Aesthetics. (1998). Les presses du reel.
• Altermodern, p14, Nicolas Bourriaud, Altermodern Tate Triennial, Tate Publishing
• Charles Avery, Altermodern, p50, Nicolas Bourriaud, Altermodern Tate Triennial, Tate Publishing
• Studio Unbound, Lane Relyea, p341-349, in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• Studio Unbound, Lane Relyea, p341-349, in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.
• Beyond Necessity; The Street as Studio, Suzanne Lacy, p317-320, in Mary Jane Jacob and Michelle Grabnor (Editors). 2010. The Studio Reader; On the Space of Artists. University of Chicago Press.

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