In between the constellation of bread crumbs and the crumpled caress of a brown paper bag, between the scrapings and scraps of a meal scattered across the tablecloth, there is artistic expression in each stroke of its stains. Kichka's Breakfast (1960) by Daniel Spoerri is the first in his series of ‘snare-pictures’, an art where random objects such as the remains of a meal are mounted on the material on which they are found and then hung on the wall in exact configuration.
These assemblages dare not only to defy the laws of gravity but also the laws of looking at and appreciating art, the world to which we are accustomed: perspective is quite literally flipped on its side as we are left dangling in disorientation. Its composition extends to include the butt ends of cigarettes, breathing in the dust they once spat out. Not even the chinaware can escape the eager snatch, as cups and coffeepots are likewise captured by the canvas. It’s a mess, but a beautiful mess, like the beautiful mess of existence itself.
These pieces turn stale at the thought of crumbling into an expiry date, the smudge of a kiss still clinging to the rim of glass lips, seemingly fuelled by the fear of being forgotten. Its concept is hooked upon the idea of a hunting device, the wire noose of a ‘snare’ that entraps and entangles, looping tight around the prey’s neck until lifeless: to ‘snare’ a moment of time in this manner is a beautifully poetic idea. The moment never lasts long enough, it flutters from the hand, but these pieces clutch with eager claws to the crumbs that remain, aiming to knock time off its path and to tame its ephemeral essence.
In our world, we are surrounded by snares: the snare of love, the clutches of capitalism, the ever encroaching tip-toe of time. The world is a snare, its chase is constant and we cannot escape its grasp. Though this artist must avoid being caught in the trap of his own art, reduced solely to his series of snare-pictures. In his ‘détrompe l’oeil’ paintings he is master of optical illusion, reinterpreting the world through a poetic lens as real objects found at flea markets are unexpectedly attached to naturalistic paintings. A piece of particular interest is La douche (1961), where a shower tap is mounted onto a landscape painting of mountain streams. As such, it seems that at the turn of a tap the art becomes alive, leaping to life like never before. Another example is Nu blessé (1962) where the elegant pose of a nude lady in a painting is disrupted by the plaster that Spoerri has stuck on her buttock.
This is an apt moment to mention that Spoerri is often closely associated with the Fluxus art movement, founded in 1960 by George Maciunas, who declared delight in humour and spontaneity. At its heart is the heavy influence of the ideas of John Cage, who believed that the artist should embark on the art piece without having a conception of the eventual end. It is a vision in which the paintbrush is supposed to slip, ever so slightly, from the painter’s firm grip, and be at the whim of the work itself. In essence, the process is more important than the finished product, a metaphor for a popular approach to life.
Fluxus artists would often produce a large number of identical pieces to deliberately devalue the object. This would even descend into destruction, as with the famous art piece by Ben Vautier - a box of matches with directions to destroy all art printed on the cover: Total Art Matchbox from Flux Year Box 2 (1968). It can be assumed that many of these boxes were burned, the audience involvement being integral to completing the piece of art. Fluxus artists not only aimed to make art available to the masses, to cause rupture and revolution, disrupting the balance of power in the art world. They also wanted art to be accessible in the sense that anyone can produce art and at any time. As I glance around my apartment I see a broken wine glass, a rotting flower, an exhausted candle, an orange rind. I delight in the idea that I too can be an artist and this messy chaos can be my art: it’s all just a matter of perspective.
Resource: http://www.varsity.co.uk
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