Yokohama Triennale 2014: Wim Delvoye

21 C. UILENSPIEGEL
By Andrew Maerkle


Flatbed Trailer (2007), installation view at the Yokohama Triennale 2014. Photo ART iT.

Known as an art world trickster, Wim Delvoye has made works ranging from X-ray photographs of people having sex to gas canisters covered with blue-and-white Delft patterns, wood-carved, life-size concrete mixers and cement trucks, tattooed pigs raised on a farm in China and the “Cloaca” series of machines, complete with carefully calibrated solutions of acids and enzymes, that digest food to produce shit. Delvoye recently visited Japan as a participant in the Yokohama Triennale 2014, where his Flatbed Trailer, assembled out of laser-cut Gothic-patterned Corten steel, welcomes visitors to the Yokohama Museum of Art. ART iT met with Delvoye during the Triennale opening to discuss his work in greater detail.

The Yokohama Triennale 2014 continues through November 3.

Interview:

ART iT: You have been working for some 30 years now, so I’m curious to know whether you feel the context surrounding your works has changed. For example, in your early interviews you mentioned that Cloaca (2000-07) was conceived partly as an attempt to cut through the identity politics of the 1990s by means of the “democracy” of shit.

WD: It has changed. It’s less appreciated now. In the last 10 years, art has become a tool of the elite and the rich. When journalists report about art fairs or exhibitions, they mainly write about collectors and money and the social scene. When they report on a museum show, it’s about what collector bought which piece for how much money.
When I was doing Cloaca, I could not imagine the art world would come to this. It is no longer possible for a young artist to do what I did. He would not be successful. The media do not want to report about Wim Delvoye doing a shit machine. They are worried about the advertisers. Everything revolves around selling the art and what its value will be later, so the issues are different now. People are painting again, because you can put the work on the wall and everybody understands the price. It’s a trophy, and Cloaca is not a trophy. Cloaca is shit, and it smells, and it requires a lot of maintenance and engagement.
When I was a young artist, people were shocked about my commercial attitude. They thought I was evil because I was making shows in New York and speaking to the media. But once I had money, I did Cloaca, and I did the tattooed pigs, because I decided, Ok, I have the money to do a better job now.

ART iT: In terms of the political context, Cloaca has taken on new meaning in light of the current globalized capitalist system, where everything is carefully monitored, auto-updated, multi-tasked and monetized. Cloaca is of its time, but it also results in a messy, visceral output. This tension between scatology and capitalism in the work is very interesting.

WD: Shitting is always political. If you fart in parliament or in church, it’s a political act. If you fart in parliament, what are you saying, what are you doing? You are rebelling. You are a dissident. You also remind everyone that we are just all human. In Belgium we have a folkloric figure called Tijl Uilenspiegel, a picaresque character who isn’t taken seriously but has the freedom to criticize others. Artists have this status now. They should use it. Take Ai Weiwei: he’s an interesting figure. He is an artist, but he also has a bigger message beyond his artwork. If an artist starts to become successful and make money, he should also take up this kind of responsibility, because society gives him a podium and a microphone. I would say to young artists, use the microphone. Use it for good.

ART iT: But do you use your own work to address social issues?

WD: That would be joyless. I think art pieces should express something universal. Interest in Cloaca may go up and down, but it will always be there. Ask little children – they all love it. It’s something very powerful. I don’t feel that I’m the creator of this idea. I feel more like a medium. I see my role in a humble way.
For me, Cloaca is the star, as are the pigs. When I first did the pigs in Belgium, they were more famous than me. Good! That’s how it should be. Art pieces should not fall into the trap of the anecdote. If you have a problem with the world, don’t make an art piece about it. Why not? When the problem is solved, then the art piece becomes dated. Hans Haacke was very political, but his pieces from the 1970s are all old now. You need to be a historian to enjoy them.
Of course, other artists can have different opinions, but my credo is that art should be about the human condition. Your art should always be interesting for the next generation, and the next after that. Don’t make a piece about some president from some country. That’s stupid. Art is not a precise language. It can suggest. But it is not a good language for political messages. I think any artist starting in art has already made a political act, just by refusing to be a salaryman who works for a bank.

ART iT: If your works are meant to address universal themes, how do you decide to move from one project to the next? There is a great deal of variety between Cloaca and the pigs and the “Gothic Works,” for example.

WD: Strategically speaking, it’s a problem, because it’s much wiser to always do the same thing. The market loves it when you do the same thing, because if someone wants to value an art piece then they can check past auction results and feel comfortable based on the performance of similar works. It’s a problem for me, because every piece is so different. When I do a retrospective, it’s difficult to brand my work because there are pigs, and small sculptures, and huge sculptures, and works on paper, and works in steel, and works that move, and those that incorporate technology, and others that are handmade.
I can’t say I do it purposely, but I have constant doubts about art. When you are doing the same thing you must be pretty convinced of what you do, but doubt is the only constant in my practice. When people tell me, “Oh this is a very good piece,” I say, Do you think so? I’m not convinced. So one month later I will do something else.
Also, most artists evolve through periods: Blue period, Pink period, Cubist period. I don’t have periods. I was doing the pigs and Cloaca at the same time, then I stopped with the pigs, and when I had two or three Cloacas I started the pigs again, while also doing Gothic works. It’s a big mess, and usually there’s one thing paying for all the rest.

ART iT: Does curiosity drive you? In conjunction with the Gothic works, you’ve actually done an immense amount of research on Gothic architecture, obtaining plans for existing buildings and carefully considering their measurements and proportions, but the extent of that research is not necessarily evident to the viewer.

WD: I’m always interested in everything, and that broad interest brings me to places I cannot even predict. In 1994 I could not imagine doing Cloaca. In 1992 I did not imagine I would tattoo pigs. I cannot imagine what I’m going to do in three or four years, and it would be sad if I knew already, because the first person I want to entertain is myself.
With the Gothic works, I was already doing surrealist objects, painting gas canisters in Delft patterns and making wood-carved Baroque-style concrete mixers, so it was logical to go from there to making steel trucks in the Gothic style.
I adore On Kawara. He’s an amazing and important artist, but I couldn’t do his life, not for one week. Everyday, he would wake up – usually in New York – read the paper, look at the date, and then paint the same thing, usually white on black, and a few times in some other colors. I think he’s really good, but I cannot be that guy. I am almost the exact opposite.

ART iT: Who are some of the artists you consider to be your contemporaries, people with a shared vision or mentality?

WD: Generally, I like a lot of artists. Once you have made your work, it no longer matters who made it. If a work is good, it is because it belongs to others. If it’s bad, then yes, it’s your art piece. Just to say some names, I like David Hammons, who is much older than me, but I admire him and his attitude. Ai Weiwei is a dear friend, from whom I have learned much. I learned from him not to worry if it’s art or not. He doesn’t care. But almost every week there is an artist who makes me happy with something.

ART iT: I’d like to return to what you said about art not being a suitable language for addressing social issues. The other side of the equation is that art can be a space for resistance. This is art that sometimes circulates within the market, and sometimes without, so it has its own complications, but I think it still has a great appeal for people in expressing an alternate way of being within the existing social construct. As you said, it is a political statement to become an artist in the first place.

WD: Yes, but now you also see the rich people trying to have the lifestyle of the artists. It’s not just that art is successful as a commodity but that the whole behavior of the artist is becoming the norm. Picasso was a strange man. He would never dress properly, he had white walls in his house, he painted in a factory building, and he had many women. Now everybody lives like Picasso! Now we all live in factory buildings, surrounded by art. Tables, chairs, designer bags – everything is becoming art, and art is everywhere, like Jesus.
It’s like what artists were dreaming of the whole time has become a reality. Instead of going to church, people now go to galleries. You say to your friends, Oh, I like contemporary art, and then you look like you have a good education. Sure, it’s good for me. I couldn’t imagine that I would have such a comfortable life. I’m just a little worried, is this normal?

ART iT: Do you think this can be a productive situation?

WD: In artworld speak, they would say, don’t shit in your own nest. So I should not complain. We are making money, we are successful, well treated. Of course we should not complain. We should be very happy, and I should not shit in my own nest. But as a creative person in the studio, I have to doubt. If you stop doubting, it becomes a religion. That’s no good. You should always be open-minded and skeptical.
On the other hand, the more artists there are, and the more museums there are, the better the chance that there will be some fantastic new art, just because of the sheer numbers. The tip of the iceberg is already enormous. But if I had a child, and he said he wants to be an artist, I would oppose it. I cannot believe this will continue through his lifetime. It’s something to do with post-industrial decadence and money printing and quantitative easing.

ART iT: Do you think your art, specifically, can address things like relationships? I am not thinking necessarily of Relational Aesthetics, but can it offer a new way for people to relate to art?

WD: Art is not that powerful. It cannot do much. We can talk about the situation, but we cannot make art talk about it. When you see a beautiful pre-Columbian sculpture, it just speaks for itself. Personally, I like Picasso, so if I see a certain Picasso, I think, Wow. Or the Whistler paintings that will be coming to the Yokohama Museum of Art later this year: Whistler had a lot of outspoken ideas, but thank God they didn’t seep into his paintings all the time. He made very interesting art that is still valuable today. But artists have the freedom now to think about what they want. Other people, too – you, too, and writers, and lots of people. Most people can join the dialogue. You don’t need to be an artist to do that.

Wim Delvoye: 21 C. Uilenspiegel

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