Culture
The Writing on the Wall
In this episode of 'The Writing on the Wall,' host Abbi Jacobson explores the intersection of words and art through the lens of Sol Lewitt's wall drawings. Joined by art educators and s...
The Writing on the Wall
Culture •
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Interactive Transcript
Speaker A
So, guys, this is a artwork that was made in 2004.
Speaker B
So we're standing just outside a classroom at MOMA, surrounded by high schoolers, about 15 of them I've been invited to sit in on an art class. At the front is Ellen Davis. I talked to her before in the episode about monochromes and that unbelievably blue Klein painting she was restoring. Now Ellen is playing the role of teacher, and the students are all standing there, each with a marker in their hands. It's pretty freaking cute.
Speaker A
So we're going to be making a piece on this wall that's called Wall Drawing 797.
Speaker B
It's by the artist, Saul Lewitt.
Speaker A
I'm just going to read you the instructions for the piece Lewitt wrote.
Speaker B
Instructions? Directions that other people would use to make a painting or drawing on the wall.
Speaker A
The first drafter has a black marker and makes an irregular horizontal line near the top of the wall. Then the second drafter tries to cut.
Speaker B
These kids are going to make a Sol lewitt. They're going to draw directly on the wall and make a piece of work. See what I did right there?
Speaker A
Then the second drafter, followed by the third and fourth copies. The last line drawn until the bottom of the wall is reached. So can any of you kind of envision what this thing is going to look like?
Speaker B
It'd be like, horizontal lines, I guess.
Speaker C
Is it like that?
Speaker B
Kind of, yeah.
Speaker A
Except the first drafter makes an irregular horiz. So you know when you're kind of bored in class and you, like, make a shape and then, like, draw lines that match it across the page. Not that you guys are doodlers or anything, but it's kind of like that. But it's going to be different every time, depending on whoever does that first. All important, irregular horizontal line. So somebody's going to have to take responsibility for that.
Speaker B
And to choose that somebody. Heads. Your tails. Now heads. Flip a coin. Obviously not good at this, but just throw it on the ground. All right. Amanda won.
Speaker C
Okay, well, now I feel that. Are you sure?
Speaker B
Okay. So they all go over to the wall. It's probably, I don't know, 12 by 12.
Speaker A
So we're just gonna go, like, to the right of that. And don't draw on the elevator sign because I'm in the right direction.
Speaker B
What if I wanna go right to left?
Speaker A
Oh, lefty.
Speaker B
Well, I mean, does he give instructions?
Speaker A
I guess you define it. You're the boss here.
Speaker B
An hour later, they filled the wall. It looks like a multicolored waterfall. And it's definitely a Sol lewitt, since he came up with the actual concept, and he's the artist, too. But I feel like this is like a communal work of art, so whoever's working on it is also, in part, the artist. This is a piece of work. I'm Abbi Jacobson, and this episode is all about words. They're everywhere. On paper, on buildings, in our text messages. They tell us what to do. They communicate ideas. But can words, just words, be art?
Speaker D
This piece is so good. I love this piece.
Speaker B
This is Mark Joshua Epstein. He's a teacher at MoMA, and he's also a painter.
Speaker D
He was just like. It's called Broken Ban. What is it called? Broken Bands of Color in Four directions. And that's the whole piece. That's the instruction for the piece. And then you have this. It's crazy.
Speaker B
He's showing me this other piece by Sol Lewitt called wall drawing number 1144. Broken bands of color in four directions. I'm going to try to describe what I'm seeing for you guys. It's going to take a second. It has four sections. Each section is filled with rectangular blocks that are red, yellow, blue, green, purple, and orange. Think Legos. And they're stacked in different directions. So in one panel, they're vertical, in another, they're horizontal. And the other two panels, they're diagonal. And altogether, this piece is gigantic. It's almost 40ft long. It runs the whole length of this hallway. What is it with?
Speaker D
What is it made from? Yeah, I'm gonna run to the label one more time. The label's fancy, so it calls it synthetic polymer paint, which is probably just like latex wall paint or acrylic paint. What do you think about it?
Speaker B
I love it. I love all his work. I love how graphic it is.
Speaker D
It's so satisfying to look at this work. I mean, it's amazingly. The scale is beautiful. I am like a junkie for flat color geometry. Something that looks organized because my life is insane. This work also infuriates people, which, like, really? Oh, yeah. When you say to a group of people, oh, and he didn't make this.
Speaker B
Right?
Speaker D
People go crazy.
Speaker B
But it also wasn't installed by just any random person. When a museum wants to show a wall drawing by Sol Lewitt, first they have to get an official certificate with instructions and a diagram. Then the lewitt estate sends a of specifically qualified people to follow those instructions and paint it on the wall. Just so.
Speaker D
What's interesting to me about it is, so in 1968, he decides to start making these instructional pieces and with the idea that it kind of leaves it open to interpretation. Right. People interpret words differently, people draw lines differently.
Speaker B
It is interesting if, say, someone at San Francisco MoMA wanted to do this exact thing and they didn't use the same materials, it would be a different piece because, like, the orange would be different. And in theory, was he okay with that?
Speaker D
In theory, he was okay with that. I don't know how okay the estate is with that. But in theory, like, these four panels could be in a different order. Right.
Speaker B
Because that's, like, more exciting to me.
Speaker D
What's happened now. He died in 2007, and I think what's especially happened since his death is these pieces have been almost canonized. And so there's a certain pen and a certain pencil and a certain way you push and a certain everything. And they're looking at pictures and diagrams. And it, to me, almost feels like some of the magic of the variations in interpretation of the instructions have been lost. Because now a solo, it has to look like a Solhette.
Speaker B
Right. It was always formulaic, but now it's become even more so because. Because it's just done.
Speaker D
There's like a way it's done. It is like so precise and so kind of just has to be done such a way. But none of that is really contained in the instructions. It's been added on.
Speaker B
It reminds me also, I was in a artist studio, a pretty well known artist. I'm not gonna say who it is.
Speaker D
Mystery.
Speaker B
I had never really been in, like, an artist that was making work, that was selling in that way that was like a working place. And I knew this, but I had never experienced it. Like, they had all these assistants working on their paint, other paintings at the same time. All these really well known prolific painters oftentimes have these assistants that are doing like the bottom layers, or they're doing the washes, or they're doing these things. And they're not discounted for their work. So why is this any different?
Speaker D
You know, what happened in the Renaissance, it's the same idea of, like having a workshop.
Speaker B
I guess it's like the same thing as, like, an architect gets all the credit for the building, but they didn't build the fucking building.
Speaker D
Yeah, I mean, it's tricky business, I think, right?
Speaker B
Where you're like, well, I had a big part in this.
Speaker D
Yeah. And certain artists will credit their assistants, like on the wall label, which is really amazing.
Speaker B
And the wit does too. This one was made by Rob Nelson, Anthony Sansota, Irene Stevens and Mitsuyo St. Clair. Claire. Good job, guys. I mean, it really looks great. When did he start doing the instructions for it? Because I'm assuming it was just him doing them at a certain point. And then he decided, oh, this would be interesting to have it be almost interactive.
Speaker D
What I've read is that in 1968, he decided to start making these conceptual pieces which just existed as instructions. And I think some of them just existed as instructions for a while. I don't think that he was writing the instructions and then necessarily making them.
Speaker B
So he never really did.
Speaker D
I don't think he was out making them. I think he kind of developed them. People also talk about him a lot as, like, a composer, and a composer is composing a score, and then the score is being played by an orchestra.
Speaker B
Yeah.
Speaker D
But it's interesting because, like, when a Bach cello concerto is played by Yo Yo Ma, you're not just like, come see the Bach cello concerto.
Speaker B
It's a Yo Yo Ma.
Speaker D
Right.
Speaker B
It's like being an actor and having a script. There are words and stage directions to work with, like, creative constraints. And that sort of clarity can be really helpful as an artist.
Speaker D
I mean, sometimes I think it's a relief to be led. It's a relief. You know, in my own studio, I talk about, like, decision time versus no decision time. And that's just about, like, whether I'm filling in a large space of pattern. That's no decision time. Decision time is okay, what do you do next? And it's much more frightening to go to the studio and know that it's going to be six hours of decision time. If it's six hours of no decision time, it's like, awesome. Let's, like, listen to a podcast and hang out and, like, you know, eat a salad and do this. No decision time. So I think it's similar. Like when people. We were talking when people come to the museum and they don't know kind of what they're, quote, unquote, supposed to get from an artwork. If you have instructions where someone's telling you to. To do something and you're the artwork, I feel like even me, I'm in museums all the time. It's still goosebump inducing. Like, are these things that, quote, unquote, teach you how to draw a bunny or draw this, Is that empowering or is that sort of reducing your creative output?
Speaker B
This is something that Mark has been thinking about for a long time.
Speaker D
I also, like, I had a huge fight with my parents when I was a kid because they Wouldn't let me do Paint by Numbers because they thought that it would inhibit my creativity. They won. I'm a practicing painter in New York. It worked.
Speaker B
Coming up. What if you take a bunch of words and literally put them up on a wall? This is a piece of work. Hey, guys, I want to tell you about another really great WNYC Studios podcast. It's called Nancy, and it's about all things lgbtq. I recommend you start right at episode one called hello, hello. You'll meet hosts Tobin Lowe and Kathy Tu and hear all about their very different coming out stories. I laughed, I cried, and then I subscribed. Check out Nancy wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker E
If you're watching the Apple TV series Chief of War, you're going to want to listen to Feathers and Fire, the podcast from Hawaii Public Radio that takes a closer look at the groundbreaking series. Our hosts provide additional context to the Hawaiian history and culture portrayed in the series, as well as humorous insight and behind the scenes stories from guests. Available wherever you get your podcasts. And from hawaii public radio.org.
Speaker B
What'S up? I haven't seen you in, like.
Speaker E
I know. I just want to talk to you.
Speaker B
About, like, we need to, like, catch up for real.
Speaker E
How long are you here?
Speaker B
I live here.
Speaker E
Yeah, but you're never here.
Speaker B
Wait, how long are you here?
Speaker E
Till Saturday.
Speaker B
You are?
Speaker E
Yeah.
Speaker B
Okay. I can only hang out tomorrow. Okay. This is my friend Samantha Irby. She's a writer and one of the funniest people I know. You're here technically on a book tour.
Speaker E
Yes. New York is terrifying to me.
Speaker B
Yeah, like, it really is.
Speaker E
Can I tell you, I kept trying to hail cabs with no light on, and I didn't understand. I was like, it's because I'm black. And this lady on the street was like, where are you from? I was like, the Midwest.
Speaker B
That is awesome. We got to write that down.
Speaker E
I was like, we're ready to waive a debit card, you son of a bitch. I'm like, I could Uber pick me up. Does it still feel good to live here since, like, everybody knows you? I just imagine your life is like, hey, Abby. Hey, Abby. Hey, Abby. Hey. Where's Alana? Hey, Abby. Hey, Abby. You know, that's how I said a little bit.
Speaker B
And I lock it out. You're bringing it all up, Sam. So you might remember Sam from our experience with light. Oh, my God. This looks nuts.
Speaker E
Yeah. This is crazy.
Speaker B
I brought her back because I wanted to hear what she, as a writer, thought about how artists turn text in this case, words pulled directly from books into paintings. And the print we're looking at is by Glenn Ligon, and it's called Untitled. And in parentheses, how it feels to be colored me doubled. That phrase is taken from the title of an essay written by Zora neale Hurston in 1928. She was a leading figure of the Harlem Renaissance. She wrote poems, plays, novels. And in this essay, Hurston talks about her experience as a black woman in America.
Speaker C
For instance, at Barnard, beside the waters of the Hudson, I feel my race, and among the thousand white persons I am a dark rock surged upon and overswept. But through it all, I remain myself. When covered by the waters, I am and the ebb but reveals me again.
Speaker B
In some parts, she describes struggling with discrimination. In others, she's empowered. 63 years after the release of this essay, the artist Glenn Ligon used her words in his work, and they're transformed. He took the title, that one phrase, and printed it in block letters, all caps. The black letters are stark against the white background. How it feels to be colored me.
Speaker C
How it feels to be colored me. How it feels to be colored me.
Speaker B
As that phrase repeats down the paper, the letters sort of layer and pile up on each other until the very bottom of the piece, which becomes almost completely opaque.
Speaker E
And that, I feel like you look at it and you have, like, sort of a visceral reaction to it. Whereas with a book, you really gotta sit down and, like, read it and feel it. And this. You kinda know what he's saying right away. At least I looked at it and was like, oh, I understand how it feels to be black. It's complicated. It's messy. Is this what he means?
Speaker B
And it isn't like he just painted that line. He changed it. And it does make you feel something. Yeah. Even though just the reading it, the repetition into more, like, muddled, and you can't read it.
Speaker E
You can't discern the letters from the.
Speaker B
Writer, but you still know it because it's so repetitive. Yeah.
Speaker E
This is the kind of art, though, that I look at it and I'm like, if I did that or something similar to that, would it be art? Because I'm not a visual artist. If I, like, took something I wrote and kind of manipulated it, would that. I mean, I guess it would be art, but would it be art that people took seriously? Like, I wonder, like, because it's text, are people like, that didn't take any skill.
Speaker B
So if you take text from a book and present it another way, the message it communicates is inevitably different, which made me think of the artist Martine Sims. She's a video artist, and you heard her in the episode I did on video. And she also uses text a lot in her work. Plus, she's a big fan of both Glen Ligon and Zora Neale Hurston.
Speaker C
I'm pretty sure that the line that it's referring to is, like, where she's talking about feeling most black against, like, a sharp white background. I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background. And that was, like, part of what influenced his color palette. So it's like, Gotcha. His kind of reduced black text against the white ground. But then something I like about it and I use a lot of my own work is repetition. And, like, something that I find helpful about it or interesting about it is the way that it sort of stabilizes and destabilizes. And so he's reiterating the sentence over and over and over again. But then that at the same time, starts to obscure or change what it says and change the reading of it. And I think that kind of instability makes the images more interesting to look at. And so it's another way of just interacting with, like, the surface or changing that surface in each layer has this after image.
Speaker B
Martine loves working with words. Sometimes she'll put giant letters right on the gallery walls.
Speaker C
I also, like, think about a lot text as a kind of image as well as, like, image as a kind of text. And so with Ligon, I think he does this well. He uses text, and you can think about a lot of his work as writing. The text is performing as image. It has a form to it, like English letter forms. There's actual formal qualities to them as well as these other associations or conceptual associations. So that's something else I think a lot about in terms of his work. Is it as writing?
Speaker B
There's one piece you did that I watched and love the notes on Gesture. Oh, cool. I fucking love that video.
Speaker C
Thanks. Shout out to Diamond Stingley, who performs in it.
Speaker B
Notes on Gesture is a short film, just three minutes long, and Martine calls it a glossary of gestures and body language associated with black women. In the video, you see a woman standing against a purple background. The camera focuses on her hands and face. She claps her hands, she flips her hair. She rolls her eyes. Each gesture and facial expression repeats on a loop for about 20 seconds. Then words fill the screen, and sometimes you hear the voice of the actress saying things like, real talk, stop.
Speaker C
Real talk, stop. Real talk, stop. Real Talk.
Speaker B
I love the choreography of it, the repetition of it. Well, it made me think about if I were to do a video glossary of gestures and body languages associated with white women, and it would be.
Speaker C
Can you. That would be cool.
Speaker B
This felt like a celebration. Mine would be the opposite. One of the reasons I love Martine's work so much is that she's able to communicate really complex ideas with humor.
Speaker C
Thanks for picking up on that. Some people think I'm not joking or they don't get humor sometimes.
Speaker B
Well, I think. Cause especially if it's being shown at MoMA, it's like you can't. God forbid, you laugh at something it's not supposed to be funny at a gallery.
Speaker C
Right.
Speaker B
But I see that that's intentional, right?
Speaker C
Yeah, absolutely. I like humor because it's like such a complicated register and you can kind of hold two opposing ideas together at the same time. And I think I just also have a very wry, like, outlook on life that is hard for me to not be a little goofy.
Speaker B
I love it. It's so refreshing because you are talking about race and gender and queerness. You're talking about all these hugely important issues right now. And I think it's necessary to bring in comedy sometimes.
Speaker C
Yeah, I was joking. I was telling somebody yesterday that I was doing this and they were like, oh, cool. I was like, yeah, you know, just two comedien words.
Speaker B
They might be the most versatile art material out there. And that, my friends, is a piece of work. Thanks to Martine Sims, Ellen Davis, Breanne Doak, Mark Joshua Epstein and Sam Irby. This show is a co production of wnyc Studios and MoMA. It takes a ton of people to make a podcast. The team includes Rachel Neal, Casey Means, Tanya Kitengian, Sarah Sandbach, Jenny Lawton, Ben Adair, Matt Frasica, Amanda Aronchek, Gillian Weinberger, Hannis Brown, Tony Phillips, Sarah Bodensen, Jenna Madison, Calder Zwicky, Kelly Cannon. And I'm Abby Jacobson. Thank you so much for listening. Listening. I just saw a puppy party van and I was like, what are these puppies? What kind of place is this? What is a puppy party? We gotta go.