In February of 2002, the painter Merlin James gave a public lecture entitled "Painting per se" at The Cooper Union, in which he argued against an interdisciplinary approach to art making and for specialization in one's artistic studies and studio practice. He discussed, specifically, his idea that painters should not incorporate other media, such as photography, video or digital media into their work. This address was subsequently transcribed, photocopied onto bond paper, and dispersed widely via U.S mail to The Cooper Union's mailing list. Without explanation or introduction, I received this one page of text in my mailbox in an envelope with a Cooper Union return address. As an artist who works in several media, I took some issues with his thesis, but that is not my point. What followed among the artistic community in New York was what interested me. Suddenly everywhere I went my friends and art peers were talking about what Merlin James had written and all over the city interesting conversation was taking place between groups of artist friends. There were two observations that struck me. One was the power of the written word. Had James's lecture not been transcribed or disseminated the dialogue would never have been sparked. What also struck me was the value of a do-it-yourself approach to dispersing ideas.

In the meantime, I had been enjoying the artistic community of which I am a part not only for the diversity of visual experiences that my colleagues provide, but also for the diversity of interests and areas of expertise of this group. Artists are nothing if not an interesting collection of people. They seek out inspiration from all corners. Hanging out and talking with other artists, I have learned about things that I never even thought I needed to know. Just in my group of friends in a short period of time I have had conversations about pseudoscorpions, basalt, pastry making, coca-cola reduction and bivalve reproduction, as well as politics, music, poetry, and of course, art. It occurred to me that there are other groups of artists having similarly diverse discussions. Then it also occurred to me that since i cannot be in all places at all times, the thing to do was to ask artists to write. I decided that I wanted to read about what artists care about and then I wanted others to have the chance to do the same. THIS is a selfish endeavor, in that I have put together something that I personally wanted to read.

This collection of artists' writings would not exist without the enthusiasm and help of Michelle Segre (who quietly knows more artists than anyone I know). With her help I sent out a call inviting artists to submit writings of any kind about whatever interested them, with one caveat. I asked that artists not write about their own work. All of the contributors are or were primarily visual artists. The results are mixed and vary, some pieces are quite accomplished, others are delightfully awkward, and many are pleasantly peculiar.

The variety of styles herein represents the spectrum of creative approaches to the craft or writing: poems, word play, prose (both humorous and serious), lists, memoirs, fiction, treatises, manifestos and letters.

Many artists write about art or the process of art making. A few pieces give us a glimpse of the psychology of the artist. Some artists write about other artists with varying levels of reverence. The humorous send-up of Matthew Barney by Walton Ford is at one end of the spectrum, with the heartfelt elegiac remembrance of Mark Lombardi by the artist Vargas Suarez-Universal at the other. Laurie Simmons writes about Karen Yasinsky and her quirky work. Ingrid Calame writes in a letter about her early memories of transformational art experiences. Justine Kurland sends a report from the road while she was out on one of her Kerouacian photo-taking adventures. Yeardley Leonard muses on a particular painting at the Brooklyn Museum. A surprising number of artists use words as their medium to create word play. Sean Landers' delightfully self-aggrandizing manifesto was transcribed from an audiotape and is published here for the first time. Jennifer Coates writes an obtusely funny fictitious letter from the Roger Arthur Gallery to one Bill Craig to "Please join our gallery." Steve DiBenedetto shares a fish recipe at a dinner for friends. The transcribed dinner conversation is itself a collage or stew of words and ideas. Mie Yim wonders in a letter to her lover Art, whether the impending birth of her son will interfere with her relationship to her studio practice.

Huma BhaBha shrewdly reminds the readers of the specifics of the protest to the start of the war in Iraq. The chants she has collected ring loudly even a few years later as the folly of this war remains indefensible. Christine Interlante writes about water ecology. Adam Pendelton and Fia Backstrom write a peom and a manifesto, respectively, about their own identity politics.

Kenneth Goldsmith "retyped" a year's worth of the New York Times, creating a fascinating minimalist flood of pure language. Craig Kalpakjian writes about the extraordinary and bizarre inventor, Les Teremin. David Brody and others submit fiction and poetry.

It is thought that we don't have memory until we have developed a mastery of language. We need words to name our experiences. Before language we have only images and sensations, but no story. Artists are people who usually communicate through images but THIS gets the reader inside the head of forty-five artists who are participating in making culture. THIS is a unique glimpse into the words, thoughts and experiences of some of the creative minds of our time. THIS is the story behind, and around, the images these artists make. THIS is the book I wanted to read.

This is THIS.

Susan Jennings

 

Review of THIS:
Wall St. Journal 2009

Table of Contents for THIS