Neue Kunst in Europa July/Aug/Sept 1985 [antikvár]

High voltcd days in Milan's spring time, with the Englishman Antony Oormley laying the first stone at the inauguration of Salvatore Ala's sizeable new gallery; the refreshing exhibition by the German Albert Hien at Studio Grossetti; and Riehard Serra's strong currents arriving from America to the Christian Stein Gallery. This encounter of nations induce to various tracks of thought, which loose-ends blur into other observations, without any burden of conclusions. GISELE LESSA BASTOS INTERVIEW WITH RICHARD SERRA GISELE LESSA BASTOS: You've mentioned that a wide base was ver> iinpor-lant. It's funny because your sculptures have an incredible equilibrium, though they have a narrow base, Ihcy are extremely planted, secure, balanced. It seems a contradiction but it is not. RICHARD SERRA: Yes, but ifsa pun on the language. What I mean by a broad base was to conceptually have an area in which you arc working in, thai does not impose limits on you and when I Hrsi started working 1 didn't work with any particular structure in mind. 1 worked more with the idea of taking a verb, and the result of the verb would produce a manipulallon of material that would give an effect thai had the possibility of either becoming a work of art or not. At thai point il wasn't necessary to think about making art. it's much more necessary lo cany oul Ihc activity in relation to ihe material. So I would roll. cut. bend, fold or whatever. And ihat gave me a way of entering into both the material and ihc place and because il wasn't defined by a geometric configuralion or a proposition a priori, but really involved with making in situ, ii bccame potentially more open, so basically what I Jo is I go to sites and work in sites. And I never bring Ihc material with me hardly ever, I jusi use the nialcrial at a ^ven placc. Here, at the Siein Gallery (Milan). Ihe material is from twenty minutes away. GLB: Practical. 1 see in this exhibition a very basic, primary characlerisiic. It's simple. hul Ihc essence is Ihere, This strikes as an inheritance of America. In Ihat ciiunlry Iherc's the strength in being able lo summarize things, simplify ilium, and gel (he moM imporliinl fuels down. A lot of beauly ajmes from Ihat. To sec Ihe esscnce and gel lo the poinl. II can hcljeauliiul like llie outcome of your proceises, hul it can iilso be grolciquc. Some people compliiiii Ameri-can* ovcr«imply/gcneriili/c lliiiigs, as if the America right now is that it lends to be provincial. Il tends lo have an overblown idea about its own processes and it tends lo be somewhat chauvinistic. 1 aclually think lhal Ihe an that is being produced over the last ten years and usually the way it's a reaction to Ihe way il came before, is somewhat on the decline. That doesn't mean there aren't very good people working, but in terms of younger sculptors working right now, ihc younger sculptors who seem lo be most progressive are in Germany and England, not in America at this moment. There arc some interesting young painters hut not sculptors. There aren't lhal many interesting people investigating Ihe nature of sculpture under 35. One of Ihe rcas<)ns for that is Ihat the galleries lend to reinforce what they can sell quickly. To get involved with sculptures which move slower and are harder lo handle, they shy away from it. Speeially people who want lo work in urban sites wiih Ihe landscape, gallerisls tend to be 19lh century oriented, like shop-keepers, so Ihcy don't suppurl lhal kind of work as readily. GLB; Thai's another aspect, you're very aware of spoce noi only in terms of sculpture bul also of surroundings. Tliere's largeness, a bigness in your pieces thai carries a sense of space, a hugeness i>f space which is coherent wiih America's vaslness, RS: One of the things that's characlerisiic of American literature. American music, American poetry. American painting and sculpture, is Ihat idea of vasliicss. I Ihink il probably comes from llie landscape. And it's coniained in the early writings of Melville, il'sconlained in Whitniiii). Ifyou Ihink ofMelville.WhilnKin, Pollock, there's sonielhing ahoul the broiid seule tif lhal Ihiil's similar, and lliiil lriidiliin, even though I don'l think of it, is pari ofihe iri.J- KS: r Ihink one of the prolilcms GI.H: Yes, it's your upbringing. You mentioned Melville, and he was iiniu/i-d with Ihe world of ships ami Ihe imiiieiisily of occiins bill also wiih llie shipyard, nol Ihc yard ilself bul the iiliiimphere. Do you Icel a close conncclion lo lhal? RS: I was bom in San Fransisco three blocks from the ocean, and 1 feel very at-laclied to large bodies of water, something I know, something pari of my spiril, something I've always lived wiih. And thai way Melville has been very innucnlial. OLD: Did you always live there and then moved to New York? RS: No. 1 went lo Berkeley when I was 17. lo the University of California in Sania Barbara at 18. ihen at 21 1 went to Yale University- After lhal 1 lived in Paris for a year, in Rorence for a year, and Iben hitchhiked from Athens lo Istanbul. T'hen I went back lo America, bul since that lime, since probably the late sixties. 1 could say I've been travelling. I've been on Ihc road, ever since. So 1 spend between 6 lo 8 months travelling, building work, I build where I go. and I like thai. GLB: So you spend ihc rest of the months in NY? RS: Yeah, but I also have a place in New Scotland. Canada. I've a studio there. I go to nil up Ihe reservoir. GLB: To Ihink of il. NY is very crammed, so it doesn't seem like you were living ihere very much. You would have ii roomier place lo produce. RS: Yeah. 1 use it asasuilc.ise.