Conrad Shawcross, Paradigm (Ode to the Difference Engine), 2006
mixed media, dimensions variable
In a relatively short time, British artist Conrad Shawcross has become a well-known inventor. At his MFA degree show in 2003, he exhibited the 'The Nervous Systems', a two-part wooden device to wind yarn into a multicolored rope. The rope produced took the form of a double helix. It accumulated steadily in a pool on the floor.
Shawcross's works often resemble machines - maybe by some standard, they are machines - but they stand for ideas. 'Binary Star', a trussed wooden see-saw which whirls laterally on its axis - two rotating lights casting wild shadows along the orbit - is modeled on two stars in orbit around one another, and offered as a counterpoint to heliocentric assumptions about uniqueness, including our own. 'Paradigm (Ode to the difference engine)', a looming complex of cord and skeletal pinwheels, would weave rope and unravel it simultaneously. (The machine can actually run, but not for long until the mechanism crushes itself.) It emblematizes the significant initial failure that began computing. 'Continuum' is about time. (A series of twelve vast interconnected loops, it was built for a museum in Greenwich, England.)
On this score, Shawcross's work has been largely, but not universally, applauded: reviewing an exhibition at London's Victoria Miro gallery in 2006, which featured the former two works, Tom Morton concluded that "if such art is to succeed beyond the illustrative, it must bring something new to the table and must bite on the now."
The critique focused on Shawcross's sculptures as visualizations of concepts - an angle that is largely shared by the artist himself. Concentrating on the philosophical thickets that Shawcross's work aims to articulate, Morton took the artist to task for what he essentially saw as too realist an approach to his subject matter.
But this critical conclusion shortcircuits attention from some of the aspects of Shawcross's work that have been most powerful in sparking interest. For one thing, the sculptures are by no means first experienced cerebrally. They intrigue because they look "cool"; the best have an uncommon kind of beauty. ('Binary Star' is a sculptural "interrogation of singularity", for sure. In its motion, it is also something like a dancer; the fallibility in the home-made mechanism's elegant functioning as captivating as human ballet - and the similar visceral reaction the piece invites raises some interesting metaphysical questions of its own.) Not only the works that move have this kinetic sensibility: 'Continuum' swoops dizzily while standing still.
Second, the artist has attracted attention for what his work seems to share with scientists and inventors. Shawcross's Ford station wagon, retro-fitted with hooks, racks and esoteric instrumentation in an elaborate combination of function and whimsy as 'The Soul Catcher' (2000), served an enthusiastic British press as everyday affirmation of this kinship, until it was stolen last year. This intrigue isn't only lowbrow: the elements of science in Shawcross's practice places him in a category with significant contemporaries as varied as Olafur Eliasson and Carsten Nicolai.
Conrad Shawcross, Lattice III, 2008
aluminium, 5m x 5m x 7m
Conrad Shawcross, Space Trumpet, 2007
renewable oak, 9m x 9m x 9m
In Shawcross's projects, scientific research enters at two levels: An understanding of cosmological principles, and in some cases the history of their formulation, is often the stimulus. Conversations with an Oxford astrophysicist inspired the 'Lattice' works in wood and steel that Shawcross has been showing since 2006. 'Space Trumpet' (2005), which functions as a sort of aural camera obscura, was inspired by the story of a humble New Jersey radio antenna, which one day serendipitously confirmed the Big Bang theory of the origin of the universe. Further, unique devices - whether built to succeed or to fail - require in each instance a search for technical solutions for their realization. In Shawcross's practice, scientific and technical knowledge serve as inputs - the outputs function on their own terms.
This autumn, Shawcross moved to the United States for a yearlong residency. His arrival in New York, as it happens, coincides with the end of the Whitney's retrospective of designer-inventor Buckminster Fuller. Another eclectic intellect, Fuller was also an expert at disciplinary bricollage. Over a career that spanned from the 1920s until his death in the early 80s, Fuller invented a low-cost single piece bathroom, designed cities that would float in mid-air, and in the sea off the coast of Japan. He developed a non-Euclidian geometrical system based on the 60 degree angle and the tretrahedron. (The rest of his professional life can be interpreted Pygmalion-style love affair with his own discovery of the "geometry of nature" - whose various applications included Fuller's most successful invention: the geodesic dome.) Fuller's geometry has had an equally eclectic legacy - it's been deployed by architects from Renzo Piano to Steve Baer to Norman Foster; and in 1985 a newly discovered carbon molecule, structurally analogous to the dome, was christened the Buckyball.
The Whitney exhibition attested to Fuller's excitement for creativity, and enthusiasm for whimsical gadgets. Fuller however did not see himself as an artist, but as a "comprehensive designer" who would transcend boundaries between fields of knowledge to produce inventions for the benefit of humanity. No matter; the reception of the Whitney show has been exceptional. Fuller's exuberant utopianism - which seems to merge art, science and utility in a sort of world-over Benthamite gesamtkunstwerke - has generated much excitement, both within the art and design world and beyond it. Fuller called himself a man of the 21st century, and indeed, the Whitney exhibit seems to provide a glimpse of a happy future, where Art obligingly helps out on the design of low-cost housing, and lends a hand in sustainable urban planning. Bucky's can-do approach is emblematic for our own tech-friendly times - his optimistic notion that in good design beauty, harmony with nature and social functionality coexist, a very current one.
But his work is also paradoxical in this regard: Fuller didn't ally scientific advance with social progress, he equated them. Some of his enthusiasts have thoughtfully identified a spiritual element in Fuller's desire to understand the universe- which contrasts somewhat with his dogged focus on technical applicability. And yet, it was precisely the tensions between the two that Fuller himself could not articulate. His career may have been motivated by wonderment at the growth of human knowledge, but his philosophy left little room contemplate it - much less to critically evaluate its implementation.
It is perhaps this space that Shawcross's work ideally opens. Today's information economy has impelled near-infinite faith in the power of technical advance; the notion that a similar kind of innovation will resolve environmental and social ills has upped the ante. We have good reason to seek a more thoughtful posture - can contemporary art afford it? The working of Shawcross's machines produces nothing more than a pause. And yet nothing may be more timely than a moment for contemplation and perhaps for judgment, one that does not sacrifice appreciation of the beautiful.
Conrad Shawcross, Dark Heart, 2007
Stainless steel, aluminium, motors, lights, 7 x 7 m
ALIX RULE: You've made the point of mentioning that your works appear to be instruments - they appear to "do" something - but they actually are functionless. Why is that so important?
CONRAD SHAWCROSS: They are designed with a specific function but that function is not necessarily useful, their form is defined by their function so they seem rational , useful - so the viewer tries to deduce a raison d'etre, but in the end is forced down more metaphysical routes.
AR: What do you mean by a not-useful function?
CS: Traditionally all machines have been built with some kind of purpose, usually to make a product faster than we could, so the machine is often involved in some kind of locked cycle which churns something out. My machines are often locked in a cycle and obey the aesthetic of the machine but have no product. Charles Babbage's difference engine, now recognized as the first computer, is one of the first machines to not have a coherent product. The rope machine series, The Nervous System, does have a product - but it is an gratuitously complicated and slow way of making rope, the piece is preoccupied by time and the way we conceive it.
AR: Do you think of the difference engine as being akin to your work then? Or rather, vice versa?
CS: No! Babbage's difference engine is one of the greatest examples of human abstract thought and engineering. He was a true genius, way ahead of his time. I am interested in his life story and the loneliness of his vision, and the way a machine like that was perceived at the time. I made a piece called Paradigm (ode to the difference engine) in homage to him. This machine tried to unravel a rope as fast as it ravelled it, and then feed it back into itself - a task that I knew was impossible but i put myself in the shoes of an engineer trying to build it. Mechanically it worked perfectly, but if you turned it for too long it would crush itself.
AR: Was that quirk deliberate, or did it become so?
CS: After making The Nervous System, I set about trying to design a machine that would do what paradigm tries to do. But after months of effort I and others concluded that it was technically impossible, and so I shelved the project. Years later, with Babbage in mind, I decided that the fact it was impossible made it far more interesting.
AR: You've made the point that as distinct from most of the work that goes on in scientific community, you work in a pretty independent way. What you say about your interest to Babbage is interesting, that it has to do with this sort of loneliness?
CS: I'm not sure I understand.
AR: Let me pose it in a more concrete way, though maybe it will change the question: how important is crafting these objects to you? Do you have assistants, has it changed the way you work?
CS: I do have lots of help now. I used to everything myself and thought it was important that I do so. But I was increasingly becoming a nervous wreck . I made a resolution my 30's would be much more about creative partnerships, I now work with structural and mechanical engineers, I have a studio manager and some other full-time assistants. It has actually been very rewarding to work as a team. And the the engineers I work with have found some very elegant solutions to things. Space Trumpet , for instance, was the first piece I worked with an structural engineer,but I still fabricated it all in my studio and designed all the mechanics.
AR: How much does it weigh?
CS: Two tonnes.
AR: Sounds like a pretty good engineer.
CS: His firm is called Structure Workshop. If a project can support it I try to do everything through him, having plans and sections of all the works is great.
Conrad Shawcross, Binary Star, 2006
mixed media
9m in diameter
AR: You use "creative partnerships" - how do you think about your relation to folks like Olafur Eliasson, who seems to makes a point of using industrial and corporate terms to talk about his studio's operations?
CS: It is just honest, artists have always worked with teams, it s just some are less willing to admit it.
AR: Has this new way of working had an effect on the materials you use? Your works had been mainly wood for a while - the work you've shown lately is mostly metal.
CS: The work was always ideas-driven, the material was a means to an end. I used oak because I was good at carpentry and enjoyed it compared to welding. Early on, I developed a system of components, such as hubs and arms that would all inter-face if needed. The system was very liberating at first but could quickly have become a trap. I wanted to get away from the Leonardo references and especially the Heath Robinson ones. The ideas that drive the work are still the same, it s just the materials are less loaded and have been freed up.
AR: That's so interesting! Because it seems to me that the new ones - Lattice Cube at Basel, for instance - have something very different going on. I would say that even on a conceptual level, the earlier ones speak to this kind of humanism. Whereas I don't get that from the new ones as much - they seem to have more of a minimalist spirit. Maybe they feel pre- and post-Copernican.
CS: It is interesting how much impact the use of a different material has on the way a work reads.
AR: I think it's not only the materials, but the forms too - which might or might not be read as an outgrowth of the new materials. But you can set the record straight there.
CS: Last year I made two similar works , one in ash one in steel and showed them together. They were like very different works.
AR: Why that decision?
CS: To create a control.
AR: Ah - so the wood was the control, and the steel was the variable?
CS: I guess, only because I was more familiar with it a the time. Could be other way round. But it was really interesting the very different references the works conjured up, as you said, humanism in one, minimialism in the other.
AR: Well, you also have all these recognizably "anthro" elements in the older works - boats, spools, etc. So to belabor the point then - the shift in materials happens... why?
CS: The wood was getting the way of the ideas, it was too loaded. I craved neutrality so the conceptual ideas would be able dominate.
Conrad Shawcross, Continuum, 2004
birch ply, oak, metal, 800 x 800 x 350 cm
Installation, The Queen's House, Maritime Museum, Greenwich
AR: What concepts are you trying to visualize with the new works?
CS: Perimeter Studies is based on the dodecahedron and is a series which is exploring ideas around conceiving the big bang and notions of the edge of space or the universe. The Lattice works use a repeatable 'brick' which is the only four sided shape that fits together with itself - that tessellates. In a way it's a quantum Sol le Witt. The unit is repeatable and divides space up equally, but has many more dimensions than your standard x, y, z Euclidian space. I see them as a kind of map or chart that has the ability to grow outwards as knowledge increases, mapping new regions of the known.
AR: Have you seen the Bucky Fuller exhibit at the Whitney?
CS: I have, I was quite familiar with his work already but it was great to see some of the archive footage of him explaining his concepts. A beautiful mind.
AR: I ask not even so much because of his nonstandard geometry, but because mapping out knowledge modularly seems like such a Bucky Fulleresque thing to do. What do you think about him?
CS: I am very interested in his work, and his pioneering investigations into geometry, his use of the tetrahedron is largely to do with its inherent structural strength , mine is driven by more philosophical ideas.
AR: Interesting circle we've come: to me, Fuller - and particularly the enthusiasm for Fuller right now - is all about a sort of cult of usefulness. As you point out, there's not a lot of room in his thinking for, say, aesthetics, or a broader idea of function.
CS: Yes, it always feels quite stark his work. In its efficiency it is almost military, but at the heart of it he was an intense humanist. I am fascinated by geometry and his work socio-geometric visions. But I am not sure we share utopias.
AR: What's yours?
CS: I can't really answer that sober. This is an indoor canopy for people to sit underneath. It has no function, just creates a place for people to gather, inspired by trees, made only of 4 sided shapes - that was the rule I set myself.
AR: The same shape as the lattice, yeah? Has the canopy been made yet?
CS: No, one day maybe.
AR: You've said you're going to explore the use of technologies during your residency there in New York - what's the plan?
CS: I'm not entirely sure what I am going to be doing out here, I have intentionally not planned anything. I want to stay away from the grind stone for a while, maybe I will just draw and think, not very tech-y though. It is time that I have here, and there is no sense me just carrying the way I was in London. I have to strip things back, and go through a little creative cold turkey.
AR: I was going to ask about whether you ever talk to choreographers.
CS: I might be doing something with Siobhan Davis next year.
AR: No way! How did that come about?
CS: She has worked with Victoria Miro in the past, and likes my work as I do hers - I am a big fan.
AR: Well, you have this kinetic vocabulary right - it seems like that element of the work must be kind of hard to talk about with most artists who show in galleries. Why are your works so big?
CS: They're the size they are because they stand in reference to the body and that is the size they need to be. But I have works on lesser scales too. Big is a relative term --big compared to what ? Often the works are conceived around the scale of the body for example , Continuum is twice the height of an average man, or the arms on paradigm are 6 ft ,making it diameter again twice the height of a man.
AR: One last question. In a review for Frieze Tim Morton complained that in visualizing metaphysical ideas, your works "merely" illustrate them. Maybe a bit art-school-critish, but I thought it was a point worth responding to.
CS: That was a tough review, I liked it though, and learned a lot from it. Tom was referring to a piece called Binary Star which I think in retrospect was a little close to illustration. As a sculpture and a physical experience it was great, but essentially was really a huge orrery. In the context of the show, which was exploring ideas around singularity, it was justified. But he really missed the point of Paradigm and the first lattice works. These pieces, I think, work on a plethora of levels, none of them illustrative.
Forthcoming exhibitions by Conrad Shawcross:
Academia: Qui es-tu
La Chapelle de L'Ecole National Supérieure des Beaux-Arts de Paris
10 September - 23 November 2008
www.ensba.fr/English
Reflections on Light
Galerie Bernd Klüser
September 16 - 15 November 15 2008
http://www.galerieklueser.com
Rendez-vous 08
Musee d'art Contemporain, Lyon
19 September 2008 - 4 January 2009
http://www.mac-lyon.com
Axiom
Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin
20 September - 15 November 2008
http://www.galerieperrotin.com/
Light Perpetual
Jenaer Kunstverein, Germany
24 September - 5 November 2008
http://www.jenaer-kunstverein.de/ausstellungen.html
Dumbbell
Galleria Tucci Russo
4 October 2008
http://www.tuccirusso.com/
Alix Rule writes on art and politics. She has worked for In These Times and Dissent magazine, and her writing has appeared in a variety of other publications. Alix grew up in New York and studied at the University of Chicago at then at Balliol College, Oxford. After graduating she worked briefly as an organizer of low-wage workers in London, UK. Alix is interested in interior and outer space, organizing communities, "social entrepreneurship" and above all, clothing. She has recently moved to Berlin. You can contact her at alix.rule@gmail.com.
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