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JAMES TURRELL
a
sculptor of light |
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INTRODUCTION
From his early years,
James Turrell (° 1943, Los Angeles)
has been fascinated with light. His mother made it clear to him what to do in a Quaker meeting with the ominous words: 'Go inside and greet the light.'
But also his father, an aeronautical engineer, gave him a boost: at
sixteen, he conquered the skies as a pilot where he could admire
the light of dawn
and dusk and other mirages, UFOs included, that will continue to
fascinate him during his later life. Decisive for his further
career were his studies in perceptual psychology and art,
during which
he discovered that he preferred the luminosity of slides - especially
those of Barnet Newman and Mark Rothko -
above the original paintings. Soon, James Turrell gets to work himself together
with artists like Robert Irwin
and Maria Nordman in an informal group 'Light and Space
artists'.
LIGHT OBJECTS
Making art with light, it was in the air. Already in the fifties, Yves Klein
worked with fire and gas, and form the sixties onwards, Op Artists began to
use optical
illusions,
but soon also real light, such as the neon
tubes
of Dan Flavin.
To create really transparent Rothkos, James Turrell
initially wanted to use fire or gas, like
Yves Klein, but he soon prefers light from lamps.
Otherwise than the 'Atlantic' Dan Flavin, who, from 1963 onwards,
combined the light of his neon tubes with the reflection on the wall, the 'Pacific' James Turrell concentrates on the
coloured light projected from a hidden source. He thereby creates
the illusion that the two-dimensional lighted surfaces are a
three-dimensional object that seems to float
in the corner of the room - the
'Projection series' with works like
Afrum-proto (1966) and Decker (1967). In other works, the illusion goes the other
way round, as in the
'Shallow Space Constructions' (1968-1970) and in works like Danae
(1983): what appears
to be a two-dimensional surface, turns out to be a space filled with
light. A similar effect is obtained with natural light in 'Meeting' (1986)
in P.S.1 New York, where an opening in the ceiling discloses the sky. In the nineties,
Turrell replaces projected light with computer-controlled neon tubes and
LED lamps, as in the 'Tall Glass series' or in his 'Motel Art' (1997) for the luxurious 'Mondrian Hotel' in Los
Angeles (designed by Philippe Starck).
In a late echo of Nam June Paik's tv-scapes, James Turrell
has a rectangle of light
on each floor of the hotel change
in colour and intensity according to the TV programs they are tuned on.
Because the illusion only works when seen from a certain angle and after
adjustment of the eyes - and also to bring the visitors in the
appropriate mood -
Turrell soon integrates the architectural setting in his concepts. In
works like 'Pleiades' (1983) and 'Danae' (1983), the visitor has to enter the gallery through a dark, inclined corridor before entering the room
where the light is projected.
LIGHT SPACES
The integration of the surrounding architecture only facilitated the obvious shift from light objects to
light spaces, a step also made by Dan Flavin - just think of his
Richmond Hall (1996).
In a first variant (the 'Perceptual cells'),
Turrell surrounds the head ('Alien exam', 1991, and Soft Cell', 1992) or
the entire body ('Gasworks', 1993) with a sphere, lighted from within
like a 'Ganzfeld'. In a second variant, Turrell proceeds to the real light
environments of the 'Ganzfeld Series' and ''Wedgework Series'. In
'Frontal Passage' (1994),
the visitor passes through a darkened
entryway into a chamber, that is divided diagonally by a radiant wall of
red light. In 'Rise' (2005) the visitor
contemplates a subtly changing light which emanates from the edges of a
block seemingly suspended in space.
'City of Anhirit' ((1976) consists of a sequence of
four rooms where the afterimage of the preceding room influences the
perception of the colour in the next.
One thing and another culminates in the widely praised and successful 'Ganzfeld: Tight End' (2006)
installed in the Yorkshire Sculpture
Park: a space entirely flooded by blue light.
SKY SPACES
Meanwhile, James Turrell is heading into still another direction.
When making his light objects, he was revolting
against the notion that art is a commodity. Immaterial objects cannot be sold - as is also
the case with happenings. And with land-art, launched in 1968
in the Dwan Gallery with figures like Walter De Maria, Michael Heizer, Richard Long, Robert Morris, Robert Smithson and soon also
Andy
Goldsworthy. Nearer home, Michael Heizer was carving his 'Double Negative' in
the Nevada desert in 1969, and Robert Smithson was building his 'Spiral Jetty' in
the Great
Salt Lake in Utah in 1970
The new trend certainly inspired James Turrell to transform an extinct volcano into a kind of
observatory: his famous 'Roden
Crater project' in Flagstaff, Arizona, initiated in1972.
400.000 cubic yards of cinder have been moved to give the rim, which approximates a perfect circle, a uniform
height. Through a tunnel, the visitor is guided into an oval, roofless
chamber that seems to transform the sky into a dome. Tunnels are so
aligned that they capture the light of the setting sun at the winter
solstice and other celestial events, like in Stonehenge or the Egyptian
pyramids. In another space in the crater's secondary vent,
there is a warm bath that also acts like an apochromatic lens. An
ingenious apparatus makes the radio sources of the stars, sun, Jupiter
or the quasars audible.
From the merger with
light to union with the cosmos or cosmic radiance.
'Roden Crater' is a long-term project. In
expectance, James Turrell erected by now
some 36 more modest 'sky-spaces', many of them
in private 'cottages' of the better endowed of this world, like the
billionaire
James Goldstein. Let us
mention 'Blue Blood' (1988) in Santa Fe, New Mexico: a pyramidal
structure reminding of the constructions of Egyptians, Maya and Celts.
'Space that Sees' (1992) is a square chamber, carved into a hillside at
Jerusalem's Israel museum. Kielder Skyspace (1996) at the Kielder Forest
Park in Northumberland is a buried cylindrical chamber entered through a
tunnel and capped by a roof with a opening in its centre. For the solstice on August 11 in 1999,
Turrell designed the 'The Elliptic Ecliptic'
on St. Michael's Mount (England, UK).
In 'House of Light' (2000) in Naoshima (Japan) is conceived
as a guesthouse for
meditation where you can
stay before contemplating the sunset. In 2003, Turrell presents an elliptical space 'Light Reign' in de 'Henry
Art Gallery' . At night, the exterior
is lit in gradually changing colours by thousands of LED. lamps embedded
in glass panels. Three Gems (2005) is un underground installation in the shape of
a stupa. The interior is lit by LED lamps adapted to the changing
light and colour of the sky, that is visible through an opening in the
ceiling. One of
the most recent sky spaces is 'Deer
Shelter' (2005) in the Yorkshire Sculpture Park: a corridor ending up in
a white cube above which the sky expands.
Apart from Roden Crater in Arizona, there is another
more ambitious project, this time in Celtic surroundings:
'Irish Sky Garden'
(1992), comprising
an elliptical crater, a softly rounded hill, a pyramid and a yard-like
space around. James Turrell was also
responsible for the lighting in the Millennium-Dome’s Chill-Out-Zone,
and the uncompleted and now abandoned Thames Light Project, an integrated lighting scheme installed in the
water, under bridges, and on tops of buildings on both banks of the
river. He
also dreams of projects that are even more ambitious and Roden Crater: a sky space on Mars.
VISUAL MUSIC
Let us take a broader historical perspective to better understand the
creations of Turrells work. Light art is not an invention of Turrell or Dan Flavin.
To begin with, there are the countless colour organs that have been
developed in the wake of Louis-Bertrand Castel ever since 1725, the
already more sophisticated machines designed
in the Wchutemas and the Bauhaus, the many abstract films form the twenties
onwards, projects like Ivan Vyshnegradsky's 'Temple of Light',
Skriabin's 'Prometheus' (1911), Kandinsky's 'Yellow sound', Schönberg's
'Glückliche Hand'
(1913), the 'Phillips Pavillion' (1958) with Varčse and Xenakis and Luigi Nono's
initial concept for the 'Prometeo' (1984. the
'spectaculars' with light bulbs from the thirties onwards, the neon-architecture
like in the former Las Vegas, not to mention the lightshows in the
contemporary dance temples, especially the sophisticated creations of
figures like Carsten Nicolai.
The examples above remind us of the fact that Turrell - as opposed to
comparable figures like Adams in his 'Colour Organ'
(2005) - is not out at integrating light and music into a
'Gesamtkunstwerk'. Rather does he conceive his works as
visual music. Often, he compares the gradual evolution of his colours with
musical variations: a late echo of an idea that, from the second half
of the nineteenth century onwards, lies at the roots of the development
of abstract (or non- literary) painting. In that respect, Turrell's
saying that 'We're doing much better with sound and with music than with light' (Whittaker) seems a little bit outdated.
Let us also remark - with some amazement - that Turrell does not flirt
with the idea of synaesthesia. If it is mentioned
at all, there is rather talk of the
tangibility of light than of the audibility of sound: 'The eyes feel, like touch, like when you look into the eyes of a lover and
experience that intensity of touch with the eyes.'
(Vicky Lindner*)
LIGHT
MYSTICISM
Initially, Turrell understands his preference for transparent
light in purely artistic terms - in terms of medium - as the counterpart
to the reflecting light of traditional painting, sculpture and
architecture.
But, increasingly, he is talking about the union with light, if not with
the cosmos.
In the beginning, he comes to refer to the neurological and psychological
aspects of seeing. Gradually, Turrell stresses the fascinating character
of the transparent light, especially that of fire and the blue sky
of sunsets. These phenomena borrow their appeal from the fact
that they seem to release us from the customary visual world, where we
are surrounded by limited, tangible and material
objects which mercilessly
confine us in the equally limited, tangible and physical body in which we so unwillingly descended (see 'The
infant in the mirror''). Our last resort
is the construction of an inner world behind the surface of our skin,
where we hope to find refuge as a soul or a spiritual being.
The sight of transparent worlds seems to dissolve that material envelope,
so that our immaterial body seems to expand and submerge in an
outer-worldly ether, where we seem to be released, not only form disease,
decay and death, but above all from the role that our individuated
body has to play amongst the countless malicious
or indifferent and scarce benevolent
players in the sublunary theatre below.
Like most mortals, Turrells prefers another approach. We hear about another state of being induced by staring into
transparent light and about the transparent light in lucid dreams and
near dead experiences. Katy Beinart even refers to
Shamsoddin Lahiji, a 15th-century Sufi.
And finally, Turrell is talking of feelings of transcendence and the Divine,
and of disclosing a new, spiritual dimension of existence. This trend is
sealed with the exhibition in Berlin 2001:
'On
the Sublime: Mark Rothko, Yves Klein, James Turrell'.
This approach has its bearings on the display of the works: they often
are disposed like altars in a church (with benches in front of it).
Let us remark that, at first glance, Turrell's 'spiritual
awakening' is in line with
the 'Go inside and greet the light' of the Quakers. Away from any
established creed, the Quakers live by individual religious beliefs and
inner revelations. No wonder, then, that
Turrell designed the Live Oaks Meeting House with an opening or skyhole
in the roof for the Quaker Society of Friends. The question remains,
however, whether the 'Turrell experience' is not rather part of the far
more superficial
idiosyncratic cocktail of exotic religions and astrology that many
people prepare since the emptying of the churches in our Western World.
Also Roden Crater itself is not more than a private, self-declared
version of Stonehenge or the Pyramids in the Old and New World.
We cannot but be reminded of that other - although totally opposite -
private religion concocted by another artist turned into a high priest:
Hermann Nitsch' 'Orgien Mysterien Theater' in
Prinzendorf (Austra).
DESIGN
We have landed in the world of
religion and mysticism. Time to ask ourselves some questions about the
relation of Turrell's work with art.
For Turrell himself, there is no doubt. He understands himself as an
artist, and found his way through extrapolating some tendencies in op
art and land art. But Turrell has his roots reach even further in the
history of art. In an interview met Vicki Lindner*, he compares
his works with Monet's haystacks - without haystacks:
'You'd be looking at your seeing. This is
direct experience, as opposed to interpreted experience.'
On occasion of his Kielder skyspace, Turrell refers to the skies of
Constable and Turner. Only through inscribing himself in the history
of painting, and not in the history of 'visual music' as described above, can he
assert: 'We are a primitive culture in
terms of light. We are just beginning. So I have to make the instruments,
as well as to make the symphony with it.' (Whittaker*)
Not only Turrell himself situates
himself in the tradition of painting, also the art market and its
acolytes all too willingly assist him in this
endeavour. To begin
with, there are the countless phrasings like: 'using the sky as a
canvas' , 'painting with light' or 'sculpting with light' ,just like with figures
like Dan Flavin. But also the titles of exhibitions speak volumes. In
"On the Sublime: Mark Rothko, Yves
Klein, James Turrell" (Berlin 2001),
Yves Klein and James Turrell are considered to be
heirs to the painter Rothko.
Such assimilation overlooks the fact that the step from Rothko (or from Constable and Turner) to
Turrell is a step from conjuring up imaginary light spaces on a
two-dimensional plane, to the creation of really three-dimensional
creations with real transparent light. And that step seals the
transition from an conjured up world (art) to a real world, equally
created by man, and hence to design (see: 'Art en
mimesis'). To be sure, initially, there is an
echo of mimesis in the
works where three-dimensional objects are conjured up through
two-dimensional light on the wall.
But this is a form of 'trompe-l'oeil' - mimesis that annihilates itself
through becoming deception (see 'Mimesis
and deception'): witness the incident in
the Whitney museum where visitors broke their wrists because they wanted
to lean on one of Turrell's 'walls'. In his later works, also this last
remnant of mimesis dwindles away: we are dealing with plain
three-dimensional lighting forms which - thanks to the widening of the
pupil in dark spaces - make the light almost tangible. Turrell himself
resists a mimetic approach of his work: 'I strenuously object to the idea that
this work is an illusion. These works allude to
what they really are - a space occupied by a different kind of light.'
(Vickie Lindner*). In that sense, Turrell is not an artist, but,
not otherwise than Yves Klein, a designer.
That goes also for Turrell's light spaces. Certainly, Turrell's special
light often lends a quasi tactile quality to space, but that goes also
for the incense in Gothic cathedrals, where the light coloured through
the windows creates an equally mystic atmosphere, that is nevertheless equally real.
And that, Turrell has in common with other artists like
Pieter Vermeersch, who
also paints his spaces with (albeit reflecting) and thus turns out to be
a spatial designer.
Also the sky spaces, finally, are mimetic - with the same reserves for
the trompe-l'oeil as above - in so far as for instance Roden Crater
creates the illusion that the sky is a starred dome and not and endless,
deep space. In so far as they function as a window on celestial
phenomena like eclipses, or on dusk and dawn, we are dealing with
architectural 'pedestals' for
displayed reality,
comparable to Stonehenge or Egyptian temples and pyramids. The bath in Roden Crater where
cosmic radiation becomes audible, on the other hand, is pure design,
nearly distinguishable form the comparable commercial 'installations' in
the contemporary wellness centres, the religious/mystical legitimation
included.
Thus, James Turrell, turns out to be the umpteenth example of an artist,
who, in the guise of a further development of art, is only transgressing
the boundaries of art and proceeds to displaying reality or creating
real objects and real spaces: (spatial) design. The anti-mimetic fervour
that lies at the roots of this move, is all too apparent form the fact
that James Turrell repeatedly stresses that his works are 'abstract': '
I don't use light as a carrier of content, as a movie does'...
Or: 'My art deals with light itself. It's not the bearer of
revelation - it is the revelation.'
HEAVEN ON EARTH
'James Turrell's work is perhaps the nearest some of us will ever
get to heaven'.
Susan Young
That is probably why James Turrell's work is so incredibly
popular, just like that of
Donald Judd. Not
to mention that of Andreas Gursky,
although, at first sight, it is totally opposite. But Gursky and Turrell do not more than releasing
the poor mortals from the horrors of existence:
Gursky through having them submerge in an abundance of details, Turrell
through having them submerge in their own inner light, totally in
accordance with the gradual transformation of museums
in amusement parks: just think of the equally enormously popular slides of
Carsten
Höller in the Tate...
Granted, the fact that a billionaire like
James F. Goldstein
makes a daily pilgrimage to his private Turrell chapel - a skyspace in
his modest cottage in Hollywood - should raise some doubts about the
real nature of Turrell 'spiritual awakening'....
©
Stefan
Beyst, April 2007
* See 'Some references' below:
SOME REFERENCES:
BEINART, Katy: 'Power
of Light', Resurgence, 2006, Issue 237.
CRAIG, Adcock: The Other Horizon. An
overview of Turrell's development from 1967 to 2001'. (ISBN
3-7757-9062-4)
CRAIG ADCOCK: 'James Turrell : the art of light and space by Craig
Adcock'. (ISBN 0-520-06728-2)
GEHRING, Ulrike: 'Bilder Aus Licht: James Turrell Im Kontext der
Amerikanischen Kunst Nach 1945, Powell, 2007.
GONZALES, Valérie: 'The
Comares Hall in the Alhambra; Space that Sees by James Turrell'
LAAKSONEN, Esa: 'Interview
with James Turrell', Reprinted from ARK The Finnish Architectural
Review.
LINDNER, Vicki: 'James Turrell - artist - Interview', Omni, Winter 1995
MEURIS, Jacques: 'James Turrell. La perception
est le medium', La Lettre Volée, Bruxelles 1995.
SHTERENBERG, Marina: 'Unnlimited-Continuous-Finite-Faraway and
Contiguous' http://www.marinashterenberg.com/essays/
WHITTAKER, Richard: 'Greeting
the Light. an Interview with James Turrell'
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Recent creations of James Turrell:
In 2007 James Turrell created
a courtyard space with a
square hole in the canopy
covering a reflecting pool and lighting
elements programmed to change in intensity and hue. Pomona college in
Claremont California
Forthcoming:
This year, Caspar Eugster intends to open an 18,000-square-foot
contemporary art museum
showcasing a retrospective of light installations by James Turrell
on his estate of vineyards in Cafayate, Salta Province, Argentina .
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referrers:
intute
de
leestafel
amyrottencore
lisa scheer
objet de désir
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