Interview: Maria Loboda & Lasse Schmidt Hansen

Two Tales: Degli Spiriti – Other Activities, 2010

’Degli spiriti’ is the central part of the exhibition title, and one way to go might be considering Felini’s golden globe winning movie Giulietta degli spiriti (eng. Juliet of the Spirits). It is about a young woman who explores her own subconscious demons and desires, by watching the life of her female neighbour. Could you please, both of you tell me little about the title? In the attempt to accommodate your strange, yet well rehearsed ’pas de deux’ it deploys the notion of ’tale’, the possibility of an ’other’ activity, and possibly the above mentioned tapping into something unconscious, whether that be an individual, or social unknown.

Maria: Lasse and I are old friends, and we very much appreciate each other’s work. But we are also quite aware of our differences in terms of method. In an attempt to adequately frame our separate, often contrasting approaches towards research, the creation of objects, and art in general, we therefore thought it most elegant, and honest, to name the exhibition Two Tales. Like our individual artworks presented in the exhibition space, Degli Spiriti and Other Activities are two such different tales published in the same book.

Lasse: Personally I ‘m really happy to participate in an exhibition with two, no actually three, titles. Instead of trying to force some thematic thought upon the whole thing, I consider this multiple description an attempt to allow things, really heading in different directions, to co-exist. At least for a while. Taken separately, it’s kind of the same with Other Activities, being the part of the title I came up with. It can be seen as my attempt to frame some kind of alternative activity. It is a grouping of certain activities you wouldn’t know what else to call. But, most importantly, I thought of this as an opportunity to concentrate on something more peripheral, something unfocused, equivalent to a temporal distraction of some sort, a short fragment of time. It’s like a tale compared to the epic novel.

Maria Loboda: Table & Mirror, 2010, 63 x 70 x 33 cm/d=15 cm. Table, mirror

Maria: I must add that I find the way that Fellini used the term ‘degli spiriti’ very fascinating. His application derives from catholic mysticism, according to which almost every saint gained enlightenment through some mundane object, an object now presented as each saint’s individual attribute. I really like the idea, that one as a person, is able to gain spiritual knowledge through a certain symbol. Especially as this is directed through Fellini’s point of view, embedded with such lavish decadency. At the same time his movie is very bourgeois and timid: an amalgamation on spiritualism and eroticism, sometimes on the verge of being vulgar. So in terms of actual objects I confined myself, and kept rather severe, no Fellini abundance here. But the very idea that my works for this show are ‘of the spirits’, my personal attributes, like for instance a levitating table, delicate poisonous stains, and a very instable rug, gave me a certain comfort. Almost every work here is made of things, which normally are constantly around me. It could be stuff from my flat, or at least something from my personal sphere, but still it’s all connected to my art practice. It is very personal matter, but not too intimate.

Maria Loboda: Poisonous Work, 2010. size variable Prussian blue-cyanide ed. 1/3

Stains of poisonous cyanide, some sorcerers’ silvery fireplace, the memory of nature evoked by an insignificant pile of stones, a moving rug, and a table seemingly levitating by the powers of a small circular mirror. Tongue in cheek; are you a female alchemist, the artworks being equally scrap metal and gold?

Maria: Creating some of the works for the show, I was tuned into the, already too often quoted, phrase from Les Chants de Maldoror by Comte de Lautréamont: "As beautiful as the chance meeting on a dissecting-table of a sewing-machine and an umbrella!" This is from the surrealist ABC, I know, but nevertheless I always loved it. You might call it ’alchemy’ if you like, but alchemy is a hazardous craft; you can easily transform something into nothing. The alchemist really needs precision, and I wouldn’t dare to call myself one. But anyway, following this idea I wanted to evoke the meeting of objects that can never meet. I wanted to create new impossible entities, of my choice, like for instance The Sound of a Jade Figurine falling onto a Chondzoresk Rug. The improbability of these rare objects ever having an encounter creates not only an imaginary sound, but also evokes a paradoxical time and place, an exotic atmosphere, in which this specific event is likely to happen. So I consider this piece to be a verbal sculpture. And poetry is a kind of alchemy, isn’t it?

Two Tales: Degli Spiriti – Other Activities, 2010

Maria’s dealings with mysticism, and potentially with magic, are evoked by cultivated nature, whereas your works seem to wonder about how culture is naturalized. For instance you suggest a somewhat strangely institutionalized positioning of matter. Is that simply any matter? In addition to the inherent multiplicity of Version, and the vertigo of Redirection, this Construction… seems to point at some virtual reality?

Lasse: Well, maybe you could put it that way, but it kind of makes it sound like there is some other world behind the present, and I don’t really like that. As part of my art practice I’m dealing with lots of practical issues, which, revolving around my actual works and exhibitions, are complete mysteries to me. Or to put in another way; I’m occupied with how things are made, and how they are perceived. But an important part of this is my interest in how, otherwise perceived, circumstantial elements make things happen in a certain way and, subsequently, appear in a certain way. When I for instance brought the work Version to the gallery, I just put it somewhere not in the way. And as it turned out, this is pretty much where it has ended up. I’m sure there is tons of decisions made everyday just like that.

Maria Loboda: Ancient Art & Ritual, 2010. size variable Three different tree branches, (bamboo, magnolia, olive) gold chain Series no. 1, unique

I was just wondering, what kind of artefacts might be standing at a sorcerer’s fireplace, exquisite jade figurines? And what could be the result of the ceremony performed by your Ancient Art & Ritual?

Maria: Even thought Ancient Art & Ritual? can’t be considered a verbal sculpture proper it works on basis quite similar. Its most unlikely rendezvous of bamboo, magnolia, and olive originates from a Chinese metaphor concerning the different kinds of trees symbolizing the qualities of a mature character: perseverance, flexibility, etc. But, as I tried to explain, the pieces I do are also a crooked play with interior design, an evocation of some strange home, where the objects have a soul. Given a free will, they do as they please: spontaneously levitate for instance, or move around like the Abstract Rug. It is sort of an séance, and of course one could say that I have an interest in spiritualism and the occult. But actually I’m more interested in its characteristic aesthetics. Even if you consider it to be all humbug, the exquisite formal manifestation of those thoughts can still delude you. This is in fact how spiritualism has always worked, I guess, as an effect of romance. Just imagine thick, indigo carpets, velvet cushions, a lavish place with the smell of leather chairs, and a levitating mandolin...okay, that’s a heavy scent. But looking at images of old and forgotten Art Deco apartments, Bauhaus studios, and Georgian drawing rooms gives me a feeling that the rooms, left alone for decades, have acquired some kind of independence. All of this is an important element in Degli Spiriti: the objects behave as they please, but always seem rather gentle.

Maria Loboda: The Sound of a Jade Figurine falling onto a Chondzoresk Rug, 2010. 2,5 x 30 cm Adhesive letters

In a way The Sound of a Jade Figurine falling onto a Chondzoresk Rug says it all. Since Duchamp’s Fountain, virtually taking a piss, or at least since the linguistic heydays of dematerialization with Kosuth, Wiener, Berry, Huebler, etc., the title and, very importantly, the specification of materials have been an integrated part of the actual artwork. You did talk about verbal sculptures, so how do you look upon this relation between actual physical matter and the index of language?

Maria: To be honest, it is rather difficult for me, especially with this show, to rightfully position myself within the tradition of sixties’ dematerialization. Maybe it was somewhat misleading to call The Sound… a verbal sculpture, at least if one compares it to Lawrence Wiener’s approach. I really admire his distinct formal solutions, but they much differ from what I ‘m hoping to achieve. I’m more sort of aiming at the atmosphere of ephemeral thought, creation zeroing in, as we know it from haikus. And my approach to physical matter has been much influenced by reading Heraclites’ philosophical fragments. I find it brilliant, by the way, that his teachings are only present as fragments, and that he was infamously know as ‘the obscure’. Anyway, his idea that substance is approaching and departing at the very same time was actually the starting point for Abstract Rug. Integrating Sonia Delaunay’s patterns, as drawn from memory, this is a textile in flux, and its physical position in the space is gradually changing. By simple means, I tried to materialize the fact that something simultaneously is, and is not, something which forms and dissolves, all at the same time. Actually, a while back, I tried something quite similar. Consulting an Indian shaman, I purchased a Djinn, and though invisible, this spirit was to stay in the gallery for ever. The only actual indication of its physical presence was the title: Spiritualism, constituted by the rules of abstraction. There was nothing else to see, nothing in the room besides your awareness of the Djinn, hence those rules of abstraction were taken to the edge. So, obviously, my choice of title is a very distinctive element in my practice. Whether or not there is an actual object present, the title is a message.

Lasse Schmidt Hansen: Construction for Positioning Matter, 2009. 36 x 91 x 56 cm Painted wood, glass

Let me ask you something quite similar, Lasse. By aspiration to invisibility doesn’t your ’plinth, turned showcase, turned plinth’ - now nothing but an object - hint at some minimalist equation with lots of unknown quantities?

Lasse: I have a rather strange relationship with minimalism: on a personal level I feel very related to some of those works, but at the same time I have a feeling that I got it all wrong. Construction for Positioning Matter is a reproduction of a specific podium. It was conceived many years ago, as part of an effort to place objects, not on the surface of the earth, but directly in space. I find this attempt, to abstract from gravitation, a most beautiful idea, since gravity must be one of the strongest and most immediate organizational forces on Earth. And I believe this plinth is a really beautiful materialization of this endeavour. I’m fully aware of the somewhat vague character of this slightly unfamiliar object, and I know that it might cause some distress to determine whether it’s this thing or that thing, but I don’t really mind that.

Lasse Schmidt Hansen: Redirection, 2009. 150 x 143 x 9 cm Painted wood

I guess it was Baudrillard who claimed that the copy only enhances the strength of the original, and that it takes a proper simulation to entirely question the validity of any such relation. What is it you do?

Lasse: To me, this whole system of copying, borrowing, quoting, and steeling is quite a blur. Generally, I find the idea of making something out of the blue rather fantastic, it simply sounds great. But, probably, things are a little more complicated. Sometimes, when you are on your own, you might have the feeling that you’re working with something really special, but then, when you’re done, it looks exactly like something else. And also, sometimes, when you have been working a while with some specific reference, you go check it out, and then realize that the thing you have been addressing doesn’t exist, at least not in the way you have imagined. I don’t know, of course it is possible to use already existing things in a very direct way, and occasionally I do. But instead of approaching it by terms of critique, and, hence, as a power relation, I much prefer to see it as shopping a dress for a movie. Everybody is benefiting. If it’s a good movie, that is.

Maria Loboda:Study for a Fireplace at a Sorcerers Home with two Artifacts, 2010. 120 x148 cm Leaf silver, linen Series no. 1, unique & Lasse Schmidt Hansen: Version, 2009. Framed black and white photograph Ed. 1/15 + 2AP

Talking to Toke Lykkeberg (co-manager at IMO, red.), and not only joking, I poked at the immediate presence of masculine and feminine virtues, (post)minimalism and conceptualism. Taking a closer look, the white plinth appears more homemade than do the rug; so none of you, obviously, represent only one side of this awkward dichotomy, but maybe you could, respectively, reflect a bit on your lines of heritage?

Maria: When talking about cultural heritage, we might have to widen the angle a bit and consider, for instance: Catholicism vs. Protestantism, all the bizarre consequences of that conflict. On the one side we have naïve belief in pure magic, and confidence in some higher power, which all leads to idleness. On the other side… well, how is it with Protestantism…sort of a guilty autonomy and diligence? Of course this is just an easy guess. Sure, our show displays a lot of dichotomies: myth vs. knowledge, functionalism vs. ornament, craftsmanship vs. double sided tape, but all of this happened rather naturally. We didn’t, in any way, discuss what we would show, or if the pieces would fit together. This exhibition is ‘two tales’, permanently. And, yes, one of them is written by a woman with a conceptual approach, the other by a man with a soft spot for minimalism. Or is it the other way around? Anyway, considering my personal background, I find my works much affected by the folkloristic and most religious nature of Eastern Europe, something I would most likely not work with if I were still living in Poland. Living abroad can make you strangely sensitive to some cultural phenomena. They suddenly they seem very intriguing, because you no longer take part in the every day banalities. In general I’m interested in different cultural systems of faith, and especially their aesthetic counterparts, always looking for odd encounters, or lost knowledge. Things abandoned by history. I’m much interested in the fact that they have been proved wrong. Those blind paths are an important part of culture, a part of our foundation, sort of like catacombs.

Lasse: I don’t have any special interest in crafts. I just work with my things until I can no longer be bothered, until I think that they are okay. What this means in terms of categorization I really don’t know. Of course, I carry around tons of luggage, stuff that makes me do things in a certain way, but because I’m always in the middle of it, I don’t quite see it as these lines of heritage. Sometimes I stumble across things, and often it just fells like some kind of attraction, something right, but I definitely haven’t found anything that feels like a foundation. It’s like if you print a text on a piece of paper; it might be a reference to some art historical event, but you could just as well be referring to the letter you just received from the tax office.

Two Tales: Degli Spiriti – Other Activities, 2010

Arcane yet enlightening, one common achievement is possibly an evocation of something absent, by signs of presence. In ways very different, your objects seem equally mundane, while potently hinting at some ‘other’ place, or, rather, two ‘other’ places?

Lasse: Sure, lots of things are missing. Even though I generally work with very physical materials I really don’t feel this urge to conquer space. I find it important to question the frame within which I’m working, and I therefore constantly change it. But I don’t think of this as a game that can actually be won. Anyway, I’m really bored by conclusions, by things ending, so usually I don’t take my works very far. I prefer to leave the piece somewhere on the way to become something else. Maybe this is the reason why you keep asking about this ‘other place’, but I still don’t think of it as some imaginative place, as somewhere else than right here. I like the idea of making up things from the moment I wake up and decide to get out of bed, the possibility of things turning out differently, whatever that means.

Maria Loboda: Abstract Rug, 2009. 106 x 228 cm Velvet, cotton thread

What about you Maria?

Maria: Ahhrg.

I’m sorry. I guess, what I'm hinting at is that your art, through its direct or indirect use of linguistic structures proves meaningful way beyond any phenomenological immediacy, beyond the presence one might experience in front of some painting. But at the same time, and this is what really interests me, that feeling of absence is not in any way contrary to the sensuous delicacy by which your objects presents themselves in the world.

Maria: Well, in that case, absence is the content, and often it is the emptiness that makes things useful. Or to paraphrase a little passage from the Tao Te Ching, which impressed much at the time, and actual still does: “The possible use of any room derives from its emptiness”. Something like that. The exhibition Two Tales… is playing with the space around each object, creating a theatrical silence, and hence making the pieces appear ‘sphinx like’, as Sara Hatla (co-manager at IMO, red.) put it so well in the press release. I’m very grateful of that phrase. My materials are from an earthly world, tables, mirrors, rugs, and plants, basically objects of everyday life. And, yes, I am trying to take them to another place by giving them an aura of independence, a life on their own, as part of a myth. At the beginning of my studies in Frankfurt, I was investigating a simple, but eternal question: “what makes an object become art?” What is it that makes for example this piece of wood so important in my life in terms of intellectual development? As it turned out, it works best for me with mundane materials, things around me to which I can open myself up, by the power of their beauty, elegance, innocence. And this goes for the viewers as well. The best-case scenario is that you allow these objects to enter your private space, convinced by their immediate familiarity. But the aim of my works is to irritate, hurt, scare, confuse, and finally, and ideally, to enlighten. I want to get to the point where "you are no longer the master in your own house".

Thank you.