Lutz & Guggisberg, a single artist with four hands and eight gardens

Introduction. There are some instances when the exact border of a work of art may not be easy to pinpoint. That is, the object-work tends to be fragment of a wider and more articulate ‘discourse’ (Roland Barthes, 1977) which actually exists in its entirety only in the installation-format, or as part of a body of works, maybe created during a lapse of time which can also last as the whole productive life of the artist. Let’s think, for example, of Laure Prouvost‘s installations and Ghoska Macuga’s ones. Both Turner Prize awarded artists they create also per se concluded artworks, like their notorious big tapestries. However, even their most insular pieces end up being fragments of a wider formal and informative system. Actually, in both cases the duality between form and information seems to show rather a continuity. Contrary to the extracts Matthew Barney has taken from his post-human tableaux vivants, the works by Provoust and Macuga are clearly expression of the same poetical fabric that from time to time appears in different forms. The same could be said of contemporary authors very distant from each other in terms of education and sensitivity like Jonathan Monk and Rokni Haerizadeh (this latter now on show at the OGR in Turin), or even of the talented Phoebe Washburn, of whom however we haven’t had any news in a long time (do you remember her?). Of course it’s a different matter for the lucky members of the caste of painters, for whom every work tends to be a universe on its own, even when stylistic and thematic unity is meticulously, even obsessively chased. From Francis Bacon to Luc Tuymans, up to contemporary talents like Dana Schutz or Nicolas Party, passing through Eric Fischl or Francesco Clemente, or giants of contemporary abstraction such as Christopher Wool, Albert Oehlen, or Wade Guyton. Think of all of them together if you can. For all of them the work is an island.

This long introduction may deserve to be better discussed, then verified on a small scale map. Nevertheless, this wants to be our starting point to reflect on the duo formed by Swiss artists Andres Lutz and Anders Guggisberg, and on Il giardino (the garden), their first solo exhibition in an Italian institution, presented at the Collezione Maramotti in Reggio Emilia at the end of April. Indeed, the thirty ‘gardens’ (23 on display), as well as the four new sculptures produced on site, seem to respond to that logic of ‘fragments’ we previously mentioned, and certainly they express themselves better if read through the entire ‘fabric’ the two artists have warped over twenty years of career.

Hence, following our introduction, it matters little that the gardens’ images the artists have altered with painting were shot in the suburbs of Zurich. As Andres Lutz told us few weeks ago, these gardens could be found in the suburbs of Paris, or of any other city in the world, including Reggio Emilia. ‘They represent the condition of civilization at this very point in time, and describe the huge flood of objects that our society produces, transports, consumes and then throws away’ says Lutz. The gardens represent, thus are metaphor of something. If that was the case, if that was the border we were talking about at the beginning, there would be little, or nothing, to add further; perhaps just a comment on the form, or on their effective degree of expressiveness. As a matter of fact: ‘every artist depicts a part of the world’ replies Lutz when asked whether they actually intended to ‘represent’ something. As if to say that everyone represents, therefore this is not an ‘identifying’ trait of the work, not even when object of representation becomes ‘civilization’ everyday’ (Lutz) and the ocean of aspects linked to it. Of course, not all the artists strive to represent something. On the contrary, Concrete Art, and then the very same Arte Povera (at least in the intentions of their manifestos) have really sought to cross the choke points of the metaphor, of the symbols, and of everything which would trace back to a figurative meaning. However, this is the insidious turning point. If we’re looking for an island, then we will catch sight of an island. Or, at most, we will spot an island in the ocean of information that flows in the web, since this is the medium through which artworks are especially ‘seen’ in the social media era we are in.

Here is a different case. The gardens are part of a wider vibration. Lutz and Guggisberg started working together back in 1996. They met in a bar in Zurich, by chance; an exhibition first, then another, and so on ‘step by step, it has become something more specific. But there is no contract between us, neither we have signed any paper which would regulate our relationship. We are linked by a sort of faith’ (Lutz). Guggisberg is also a musician, Lutz is interested in acting. They have different creative abilities, which then merge into a single work. ‘It’s very hard, almost impossible, to sum up our everyday routine in just a few words, as it would be impossible to describe 22 years of partnership in a nutshell. However, I can say there is a duality between daily work, that starts in the morning at the studio, with the tools laid on the table, in a direct or metaphorical way, and the discourse you carry on from the previous day, and the one before. This second part of the job is certainly the most difficult one to describe’ (Lutz). Also because the two Anders work, as a matter of fact, in pairs, mixing, verifying, questioning human feelings and perceptions which are separated and independent. ‘In a duo you are never alone’ (Lutz). On the contrary, everything is constantly negotiated, and renegotiated. Generally the result goes far beyond the single individualities. While in the case of the collaboration between Wade Guyton and Kelly Walker the outcome is the work of a third artist ( Guyton, 2010), given that the two artists nurture distinct artistic practices, Andres Lutz says he has the impression that Lutz Guggisber is just one artist! After years of working together, the ‘hands’ of the two artists are hardly discernible – unless there was the will to separate them, for instance, by interpreting a performance. This is reflected by the way the duo talks to the public, that is as if the artist were one. ‘Working together has become for us a natural act, even though our lives are independent. It wouldn’t be different if we were architect, or designer, areas where professional couples are quite common’ (Guggisberg).

So it comes that the gardens and the sculptures begin to produce layers of meaning that don’t depend on metaphors and forms. The irony characterising the entire body of work of the Swiss duo flows in the fabric which has been outlined over two decades. That gaze, so naively critic towards the many mistakes of the society we live in is thus a deep, and broad gaze. The gardens, generally places of leisure, sometimes even public display of how healthy a certain political or economic system is, are somehow corrupted. They become unpleasant places. ‘The gardens we took pictures of are effectively spoiled. However, our objective was to find out their aesthetic qualities. We wanted to talk about creation and destruction, about their constant cycle. The gardens are ruined, yet flowers don’t cease to sprout, and this is perhaps the ethical message of the work’ (Lutz). The sculptures on show at the Collezione Maramotti haven’t been dispatched from Switzerland, but produced on the spot, with local materials, which didn’t have to travel. And this is where we can pinpoint a well-defined ecological, maybe humanistic spirit. ‘We always prefer to use local materials rather than sending the works. A few years ago we did a project in LA. Within two afternoons we had gathered everything we needed, in the same neighborhood. The same happened some time later in Buenos Aires. In this instance, however, we were surprised by how difficult was to find waste products compared to the rich Californian city. There is a crisis over there, people use, re-use, recycle everything they find. So we bought some materials from the so-called cartoneros, people who pick up litters that they sell for a living. When the show ended, though, we gave back the paper. (Guggisberg). It’s all so clear, isn’t it?

August 30, 2018