A Memorable Conversation with Matthias Neumann
Photo credit: Jeffrey Benjamin
Matthias Neumann is a multi-disciplinary artist and architect based alternatively in Germany, New York, and the island of Serifos in the Western Cyclades in Greece. Educated as an architect with a degree from the University Dresden, Germany, his work has been presented internationally, including venues such as Manifesta 8, Galeria HIT, the National Museum of Contemporary Art Romania, SITE: Lab, the Queens Museum, Montalvo Art Center, and the Jule Collins Smith Museum, among others, in addition to a significant number of public art installations throughout the US and Europe. His architectural work has been recognized through competitions, including his finalist design for the World Trade Center Memorial in New York and his winning competition entry for the Africa Centre near Cape Town, South Africa, among others.
He is the recipient of the Kaplan Director’s Award of the Cape Cod Museum of Art, and the recipient of generous grants from institutions such as the Brooklyn Arts Council, the Foundation for Contemporary Art, CEC ArtsLink, and the American Institute of Architects, among others. He was an artist in residence at Mac Dowell, MoKS - The Center for Art and Social Practice, Mooste, Estonia, ORTE Krems, Austria, I-Park Residency, Vermont Studio Center, and Nu'Vem on Pico Island, Azores.
He has taught at numerous academic institutions, and more recently, he has co-founded the experimental art space and residency "Kotoki" on the Greek island of Serifos, which is intended as a communal extension of his public art practice.
I had the pleasure and honor of asking Matthias if he ever finds himself limited by the materials that he has available, how the use of art has helped him understand how society views him as an artist and a person, how art and architecture are related, and so much more.
UZOMAH: What connection do you have to your art? …
MATTHIAS: I studied architecture and have worked as an architect for many years. And questions of how materiality and space affect social interaction and human perception continue to inform my artistic practice very much, both in tangible and intangible ways. I never considered to be an artist as a career choice, but rather as a means to explore and create and communicate aspects of what interests me in the world. As such I consider my work as an act of being in the world.
I used to have extended arguments with a friend of mine, a photographer in New York, regarding the importance of the “finished work,” that is, if a work of art only really comes into being when the framework or the object is put into the open as an exhibition or the like. I used to resist this notion for a long time, since my primary interest is really rather reflective: as long as a thought, a narrative, a shape, a form, an object, or an image is meaningful to me, I find it quite satisfying, and there is no immediate need to translate that into a finished object. This attitude is a bit solipsistic, though, and I have somewhat revised this notion since I recognize that being in the world also means communicating with the world. I find it actually quite satisfying to look at my work that way, that the validity of the work is derived both from my own satisfaction and in a meaning that lies outside of me. I think much of my reservation regarding the “finished work” has always been the implied commodification of the work. I am no stranger to financial despair, nor would I fault anyone for having economic considerations in the work they do, but I personally resist thinking of my work as participating in the marketplace, and I have stayed clear of the “art world” as a market place for the most part, opting rather for publicly funded or independent platforms.
Xabana (45°29'28"N 10°08'42"E), wood, acrylic, 2023 size: 4'x9'x4' site-responsive installation commissioned for Capitale Italiana della Cultura - Bergamo Brescia 2023. Situated at the foothills of the Alps in a former military site outside of the city of Brescia the work marks the site where in the last year of WW2 forced child labor was employed for the manufacturing of bombs.
photo credit: Monica Taglietti
U: Do you ever find yourself limited by the materials that you have available?
M: My spontaneous impulse to respond to the question was, “Of course!” - I do have some pieces of sculpture in my sketchbook that would work very well cast in gold. But on a second thought, I must say that I don't really find myself limited by the materials I have available. Quite to the contrary, actually. Limitations have been a very generative and inspirational aspect in my work. My work series “Basics,” which I have been working on for the past ten years, with over 60 iterations in public spaces around the United States, was born out of a desire to create larger-scale sculptural interventions in public spaces without having the resources and the overhead of a large studio space in New York. So instead, I used 2x4 lumber, the most common building material in the US, and conceived of the work to be built on site. This allowed me to be independent of space, equipment and resources; I could fly anywhere, get the material and build the sculpture in two or three days. This working method, which was really born out of a lack of resources, however, has informed many aspects of the work in my understanding of temporality, the performative aspect of working in public, and the adaptability of conceived form to site conditions.
basics #25, wood (2x4s), 2018 Location: Pasadena, CA Size: 8' x 16' x 8' temporary site-responsive installation by the city of Pasadena; duration: 4 years.
photo credit: Matthias Neumann
U: How do you use art to create something unique and innovative? Please explain.
M: I think “originality” is overrated in that it has become synonymous with late capitalism's obsession with the next new commodity, where newness itself is a quality to be marketed. Notions of uniqueness and innovation often befall that same fate. If art is considered as a means of communication in being in the world, then metaphors of communication are probably adequate to answer the question: I have no desire to say something that has been already said better. But since society moves on over time, the same thing may be said in a different form or context, and it still may be relevant. The work series “Basics” is very much grounded in the use of common material and as such reiterates some concerns formulated by the “Arte Povera” movement 50 years earlier, however in a new and very specific context. Is this unique? Is this innovative? I am not sure. But I do think it is prescient.
U: How has the use of art helped you understand how society views you as an artist and a person?
M: It is very interesting how the notion of declaring oneself as being an artist changes the perception of oneself in the specific contexts the declaration takes place. Many people wear many hats, as do I, and I am equally comfortable calling myself an artist, an architect, a houseman, or a tinkerer of sorts. There is this famous notion to Beware of artists, as they mix with all classes of society and are therefore most dangerous, which is sometimes attributed to McCarthy, sometimes to Queen Victoria, but which seems to be first expressed in a letter by King Leopold of Belgium to Queen Victoria, where he writes The dealings with artists […] require great prudence; they are acquainted with all classes of society, and for that very reason dangerous. And I think King Leopold of Belgium was quite right; only what he perceived as danger, I would perceive as opportunity, both for the artist themselves and for society at large. One never entirely escapes one's social, cultural, and economic upbringing and circumstances, but widening one's perspective and understanding is something to strive for.
basics #56, wood (2x4s), 2022 Santa Clarita, CA, USA Size: 5' x 9' x 5' temporary site-responsive installation commissioned by the city of Santa Clarita; duration: 3 years
photo credit: Matthias Neumann
U: How are art and architecture related?
M: There are so many tropes and quotes that were generated by artists and architects alike, ranging from how architecture is not art at all, to how architecture is the mother of all arts, and anything in between, that I am hesitant to add to that canon. I also think that the question is rather mute in the context of the creative process. Labels matter in retrospect, in understanding a relational trajectory. Categorizations and questions of epistemology are really quite unimportant in the creative process itself. Creation implies an investigation, a search, trial and error, with an uncertain outcome. And while the reference points for any such investigation may come from architecture, painting, poetry or music, or any other human activity, the resulting work, if successful, will have its existence and presence in its own right. And only then will it also have a relational dialog with other creative trajectories, i.e. the history of architecture, of art, of design, or whatever epistemology the work lends itself to relate to.
Masters (Basics), for instance, was created for QF Gallery, re-creating two chairs - Mies Van der Rohe's Barcelona Chair and LeCorbusier's LC3 - using 2x4 lumber, repositioning two design icons into a material reality of the everyday, invoking a social promise implied in early modernism. And I feel equally comfortable discussing that work in the context of art as well as in the context of furniture design. I don't think it takes away from a work that it can be read in multiple contexts; quite to the contrary. I always get a bit wary when people get too territorial in their claims of affiliation, and I suspect it mostly stems from one of three reasons: the need for a marketing label, or lack of curiosity toward what's unknown, or a quasi-religious devotion to an idea of a particular category. For instance, while I respect Donald Judd's insistence that his architecture and his furniture are outside of art, I would still consider them very much in the context of his artwork, even at the risk that he might turn in his grave.
U: Can the artist be separated from their work?
M: I do think an artwork can have and should have an independent existence from its creator where it can be enjoyed, understood, evaluated, and rejected (if need be) without any reference to the artist who created it. I would assume that any work of art worth the consideration would have something to contribute to our understanding of the world or the human condition without having to revert to the biography of the artist. That said, the biography of the artist most certainly adds a dimension always worth considering. In current discourse, however, the question of linkage between the work and the creator often becomes a question of linking morality and quality, that is: can an artist of questionable morality create works of art that are worth to be considered, and even more so, if the immoral act is generative to the work itself. Gauguin comes to mind. I love his paintings. I might have not liked the person. And would the world have been a better place for his underage exploits in Tahiti who ended up with syphilis? Most definitely! But the paintings are there. And they are significant. The alternative in inseparable linkage between the artist and the work would be to only admit voices that concur with the dominant moral code, after extensive vetting, which has more of a religious zest than I can subscribe to.
basics #51, wood (2x4s), 2021 Milwaukee, WI, USA Size: 8' x 8' x 8' temporary site-responsive installation commissioned for Sculpture Milwaukee, curated by Theaster Gates and Michelle Grabner; duration: 2 years
photo credit: Matthias Neumann
U: How is architecture livable art?
M: Building is a very basic human activity, and has been for many millennia. I would think that almost anyone can build and make accommodations for life's spatial necessities, since our spatial habits are very ingrained in our perception of the world. Architecture with a capital A, that is, architecture that is in communion with the arts, begins where this spatial habit can transcend the everyday and can communicate emotional or cognitive content that resonates in of itself with human experience outside of its functional accommodations. And that is not to discredit functionality in architecture – I believe functional comfort to be the foundational promise of anything that considers itself to be architecture. But space, material form, in dialog with light and its environment, be it natural, social, or historical, has also a spiritual potential, and it is here where architecture and art are on equal standing. And you don't have to be a religious person to appreciate this.
Camina Fantasma, realized for Enclave Land Art, Vall de Gallinera, Spain, 2021
“Camino Fantasma” – Ghost Walk was realized using 100 pieces of wood which migrated over the course of 2 weeks along a picturesque mountain path in the Vall de Gallinera, Spain. In the process the wood morphed from one sculptural form into another 4 times over. Each installations existed for one day, each taking up three days of the ongoing work process: one day installing, one day the work being in existence, and the third day de-installation. A performative act in public sculpture. I like to think of the structures as Ghosts as they have left their material form and have moved on into another form. Ghosts exist as long as the spirit of the expression still captures the imagination, and ceases to exist when the imagination does not engage with the spirit anymore.
photo credit: Rachel Harris
U: What building or structure do you wish you created and why?
M: It is very humbling to realize that most spatial/material innovations were created by someone we do not know anything about. Imagine the thoughts and desires of whoever first built a chair rather than sitting on a stone or a tree stump. Or whoever first built a stair to create a spatial contingency in the third dimension. While these achievements could be called heroic and certainly significant, I like to imagine these designers, builders, and artists as just as much muddling about, trying, testing, and generally engaging with the world with curiosity, but with no general master plan. And it is this drive of curiosity that I would wish to perpetuate rather than any specific work, structure, or building.
I have worked in vastly different scales, from larger urban settings to very intimate spatial arrangements and sculptural configurations. I don't think that size or program matters as much as it does to add some inkling of poetic expression to the material world that is not trite, superfluous or self-important. Not so easy to do.
For more information about Matthias’s work, please visit his site and follow him on Instagram here.
