Interview with Thomas Raat

Dutch artist Thomas Raat's work is playful and highly critical, often using established works of art as starting points for his modification and regeneration. In his current exhibition 'MUMU: Malice and Misunderstanding' at SPACE, his thoughtful re-assessment of well known works by Barnett Newman, Mondrian and de Kooning/Rauschenberg reviews these works as symbols of Modernism heavy with years of critical thought bearing upon them.
Here Raat discusses the exhibition and its distinctive feature as having been made on-site and with an implicit expectation of its viewers in the particular viewing space.

Interview with Thomas Raat
11 / 9 / 2008

You said yesterday you were sick of looking at your work.
Well the way this show has been built up is quite different from all the shows I do in general. Being so close to the coming together of the show is quite new to me because I normally I make the work in the studio. I do have the same problems though and it’s kind of the same feeling. I always cover the works up when I leave, as I like the idea that when I am not there they are not exposed. They are only exposed when I need to work on them or when they are in function in a show.

So has your experience of working within the space you are exhibiting been different working in the studio?
Yes definitely - you are constantly aware of the fact that this is the environment in which the work is going to be presented. You really observe the walls and you project how things will look. Of course it helps, and if I was able to have two months to put up every show I would be quite successful.

But in terms of working in the space do you think it influences the way you are working?
It does have an effect, but because I knew I was going to work here, the coming together of the work was different too. I planned it all beforehand and I knew what I was going to do and what I was going to make.

So the exhibition has become the ‘work’?
Yes, which is quite different to the normal use of a studio. Having a studio is a reason to get out of bed, take a train and go to work like going to the office. It’s a room which gives body to my work and gives it a place, which is different from being on the edge of an exhibition. In the studio you can mess about, play around and you can throw things out there and it’s more private. I don’t allow other people in the studio really, but here you can’t say no to people walking through the gallery.

You’ve talked in the past about losing control of the work once it leaves the studio – is this true of your own work?
The work I do is never mine. I don’t consider myself to be part of the work and I don’t think I am emotionally attached to it – the works are not my children! I try to avoid handwriting and personal issues; I operate as an observer.

So would you say that work is about your relationship to art and the making of art?
It’s got two sides. On one hand it’s all based on my concerns, but I’m not dictating. Everything I do already exists in a way and by changing the content and the context in which it operates, it becomes my work. I’m not just interested from a painting perspective, to have an empty canvas and to create a new work. I am much more interested in trying to understand what I already know and how I grew up with art and the rules surrounding art. So what I do in this show is take two opposites like hardcore modernism and try and put it against the outskirts of post-modernism which is the sculpture and the pamphlet. The pamphlet is from an internet site about Neoism.

Have you ever been tempted to commit an art crime like the ones you reference in your work?
No and I want to stress that I am not interested in art crimes or why people commit them. I am more concerned about how people treat the art work afterwards and how it changes. In a poetic sense it loses its virginity and vulnerability. It’s similar to finding out something is a forgery; how the image stays the same but the valuation changes. I am interested in how the people involved and the change of context affects how we look at art.

So it’s about the authenticity of the artwork?
I think that is of huge importance if you decide to make art. I think that the value of art must be in its own reflection. It cannot just be in the physique of it: a good work of art has both content and form going hand in hand. What I said about it being based on an intellectual process doesn’t mean that it can only be verbal. I do believe in the visual and there should be a delicate, well-executed form to give it some life and existence.

Where did the idea of the candles come from?
They are replicas of Barnett Newman sculptures which are completely made out of steel. The idea of the candle itself has a religious connotation but it’s not really about the candle or the effect that it’s giving light. The most important thing is that it is burning down so it’s kind of making fun of his work. I think they are really stupid sculptures that Barnett Newman did, but I really love those base bits so I thought if I redo that as a candle holder, and then burn the other bits down. When you activate the piece by lighting it, you also destroy it so it works as a cycle, since you can refresh the candles. By celebrating it you destroy it. By destroying it you actually celebrate it.

But are you celebrating Barnett Newman’s work or being irreverent?
It’s both, I am not dictating. It would be naive to think that the only existence of the work I do is within my gesture, because there are so many associations. Of course I would love everybody to understand what I am saying but that would be naïve. Especially with working with already recognisable imagery, it would never only be my own story which is being told. If you use candles there are plenty of references and I can say that it’s not about religion and it’s just about them burning down, but you can’t avoid that.

I wished I was celebrating it, I would love to believe in all that. And it’s a really good question but I can’t answer it because I do take the piss by recreating something; its not very nice to twist a Mondrian on his side and he would probably be annoyed. Same goes for these things (refers to ‘Corrections’) it’s just making fun and the large borders around these pieces stress that these are stupid little things. This is a photograph of a Malevich painting which someone attacked, so I tried to restore it and tipp-ex his graffiti back out. But it’s not about restoring it; it’s about the space in between.

The one next to it is a Willem De Kooning drawing which was erased by Rauschenberg, and I have gone over and emphasised the bits that you could still see. The only thing Rauschenberg said about that piece was that it is poetry. So if people asked him ‘what are you trying to do?’ and ‘what does it mean?’ that is all he would say. There are no rules in poetry, and if you call your work poetic you just wash your hands clean.

Do you think it’s important to go to private views?
It’s crazy to say that it’s not! I lived in London for two years around 2006 - 2007 and I made a lot of contacts. I know quite a lot of artists and bumping into people is nice. The few months I've spent here have felt very supportive. It does give you a really comfortable feeling and you operate best if you feel comfortable.

I really liked the working ethos in London. It’s quite different from Amsterdam. If you want to keep your head above the water its hard work. There are so many artists in London and if you choose to be an artist it’s quite a risk and a responsibility towards yourself. One of the results of that is that a lot of people are working a lot harder. I like that because the work just gets better the more you do, like training. I wasn’t born with talent - you have to work at it. I was fascinated by painting from an early age and I painted, read and looked at art and I still do, but I am creatively crippled.

I noticed your particular attention to detail in the set up of the space – do you think these pieces would work in any space? The detail to the lighting and everything feels more like you are setting up a drama stage...
I think that every time you set up a show that works together it’s always a stage, like going to the movies. You stage it and try to make the conditions as good as possible, but it’s all fake. Art doesn’t really exist does it?

But as we just talked about everything being a stage, do you want people to see the work in a particular way?
It would be nice if people understand that you can’t just call anything art. I’ve been taught on several occasions that if you are an artist or you make a living from art, and you create something, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s art. Art is only art when it works.

What are you doing after this?
I am going to do a large mural in Belgium in plastic, which will be a really good show as there are a lot of good artists involved in it. There are also a couple of group shows coming up and I will also have to dive in to the studio to make some work for art fairs.

Will you come back to London?
I’ll be around during Frieze, to direct people over here to see the show! And I will probably do a talk maybe if the catalogue happens – we are waiting for funding – then maybe we will launch that with a talk.