Last week I took a moment to go to the Paula Cooper Gallery to see Carl Andre’s show. Carl Andre is a highly controversial artist who passed last year, and it was recommended by my abstraction course professor to check out his show regardless of the dark rumors surrounding his legacy. “Just check it out,” he said. As someone who makes floor sculptures, I can’t not think of Carl Andre. The floor is special–it’s filthy and divine, it’s nothing and wholly expansive. And psychologically that’s where I live and belong, and whenever I think of Carl Andre I think of whether he’s ever felt that way. He revolutionized sculpture and its relation to its space, and as much as I like or dislike him there’s no point in arguing this.
Once I saw the work in person I immediately thought of what Charles Ray said—“I want the sculpture to feel embedded in the space. To belong to it.”
I really wanted to hate the show because I’m not allowed to like it. Truth is I started crying in the gallery because something about the work arrested a deep part of me, all the while I felt disgusted toward myself for allowing myself to feel vulnerable in front of his work. But when I saw the hard concrete blocks create a long, delicate trail toward the wall, I felt like it could erase my entire being at that very moment. Maybe I just wanted to cry, or maybe I was just surprised and confused about why I resonate with the work so much, or maybe I really felt something but I have never responded to a work in this way.
It makes me wonder if I would’ve liked Carl Andre’s work last year, or the year before, or the year before that. Last year when he passed my instagram was filled with celebratory posts of his death. I feel guilty for being seduced by the work and letting it touch me so deeply and leave me changed, and I hate myself for secretly enjoying it. This feeling is all too familiar– I felt understood. I felt invisible.
I’m not there yet—making work that feels completely embedded in the space. But now I understand what it looks like and how to get there. I have submitted myself wholeheartedly to the floor.
With love,
Lily