The work of US artist Michael E. Smith (*1977 in Detroit) is characterised by two fundamental approaches: the use of everyday objects and the way he deals with the given spatial situation. Smith works with products from discount shops and thrift stores, or discarded objects found on the street. These are everyday items that we use to dress, work, or play. Some objects are combined to create readymades. The examination of the exhibition space is of particular importance. The artist attempts to shift the focus from the “white cube” to their objects by reducing the number of works and placing them unconventionally. Paradoxically, however, it is often the case that the architecture has to be studied closely in order to repress it, especially in the case of a purist-iconic building such as the extension by the architects Gigon/Guyer here in Winterthur. It is therefore important for the artist to create his own atmosphere. One way of achieving this is through a well thought-out lighting design that defies the laws of ideal standard lighting in exhibition spaces. For these reasons, meticulous preparation in the run-up to his exhibitions is just as important as the installation process on site. To this end, he visited the Winterthur space over a year before the opening and then began planning in his studio.
Each sculpture begins with a search for materials, which Smith himself describes as “research.” For solo exhibitions, he first amasses a huge pool of used objects. This is followed by a filtering process that only ends with the opening of the exhibition. Smith combines different colours and materials and configures the collected objects into grotesque forms. Finished works are rarely created during this phase. Instead, he reconfigures the objects in countless variations, appropriating them through these “tests.” Individual elements impose themselves on him, on the one hand through their many possible combinations, and on the other through their form. He often hangs the objects on the wall in complete isolation for long periods of time, or places them on the floor of his spacious studio, allowing the colours, shapes and surfaces to take effect on him. As the artist observes the objects in different light conditions and states of mind over time, the sculptural potential crystallises. Building on these experiences, his selection is refined step by step and becomes a vocabulary that he combines again and again to create new statements, i.e. other sculptures. In addition to the formal aspects, Smith is also interested in the different uses of the objects and the significance they had in people’s everyday lives. These aspects are as important in his selection as they are in the subtext of the works.
The collection of objects that he considers suitable for an exhibition is still very extensive. For this exhibition, it ranges from basketballs, tennis balls, fishing rods, shock absorbers, clown shoes, carpets, plastic barrels, spectacle frames, helmets, shoe boxes and exhaust pipes to filing cabinets and TV screens. These are mostly every-day objects that can be found in every household and are familiar to everyone. The focus on everyday objects thus sets the tone in the exhibitions. This makes the sculptures particularly accessible in an art context. The artist wants direct identification to take place. This also means that they are in no way monumental or claiming authority, but are created in a process and remain reduced to the human scale. It is not about mass and displacement, about weight and heaviness, but about experimenting with relationships and connections—between the forms and materials used, with the space and with the audience.
One means of directly involving the audience is the humorous handling of the objects. They often have a slapstick quality. This body-related art form, in which many things are broken down into their individual parts, is an influence that Smith translates into sculptural forms. However, this is not done as a concrete image or through a reconstruction, but in an abstract way. For example, one work with its wobbling rod elements is reminiscent of shaking knees. Such elements also have a cartoon-like quality and are casually incorporated as additional layers. This packaging of different ideas in one work, which can then be revealed again by the audience depending on their own background knowledge, experience and mood, is very important for the artist’s considerations. There is no one-dimensional and certainly no correct reading of the works. Moreover, the artist does not change the individual objects; they always remain what they are. In this respect, easy access is guaranteed at all times. Smith does not intend to charge found objects with socio-critical and political meanings, as is often the case today. His objects do not function as defined representatives of content. However, their sometimes grotesque combinations and sometimes humorous positioning in the exhibition space arouse curiosity to engage with the incidental. They give the viewer the impetus and the freedom to extract various possible meanings from the combined objects, which are often even directly related to their own interaction with them.
Michael E. Smith rarely titles his works. When he does, he provides all the more food for thought and triggers a chain of associations that can be followed through the exhibition. This often happens through the description of the material, where it is succinctly labelled Laundry- Table, for example. On the one hand, that object is of course a readymade, but on the other hand it remains a kitchen unit extension or the cheap washstand that you can buy off the shelf in the desired width in the USA. Through this explicit reference to the original purpose, the other objects can suddenly take on a narrative character. The beanbag next to it—which could also be an oversized blue tennis ball—becomes a laundry bag and the lawn carpet in front of the large window becomes a giant bath towel. The noises from the neighbouring room suddenly sound like a washing machine in the craft room at home. Next door, the carpets create a living room atmosphere in which the children seem to have made themselves comfortable to smoke weed in the absence of their parents. A dining room and a kitchen also take on a shadowy form. Of course, this is only one possible and also abbreviated reading that is outlined here. But Smith incorporates such “trials,” as he himself calls them, into his exhibitions on various levels and also connects all the rooms with each other. When he conceives an exhibition, it must therefore also be understood as a Gesamtkunstwerk. This is also expressed in the lighting design with which the artist subtly connects all the rooms. The moods he evokes are in turn reflected in the colours and materials of the objects.
What remains at the end of his filtering process is a clear distillation of a few everyday objects that are familiar and accessible to the public. He counters a complex world, often reflected in complex installations in contemporary art, which are then overloaded with explanations of content by artists for fear of misinterpretation, with self-explanatory forms. These few objects are the content. It is precisely in this way that Smith allows an unhindered view of his work. This puts the audience on solid ground. No previous knowledge of art or cultural history is required, and there is no need to consult a catalogue. No one has to fulfil the artist’s intentions. It is all about individual perception and engagement with what is presented to the audience. Smith trusts you to look, think and feel for yourself. His works avoid any narrow-mindedness and thus inspire your own imagination—with humour and profundity, loosely based on the line from the Commodores’ song Easy: “Why on earth would anyone put chains on me, yeah?”
at Kunst Museum Winterthur
until April 28, 2024