Samuel Beckett,
Aspen 5&6, Section 3
When creating Slow angle walk
(Beckett walk) in 1968, Bruce Nauman was a young and
as yet far from successful American artist pioneering
the use of video - or was he just bored in his studio,
pondering the futility of creating anything in an empty,
white space? The feeling of inevitable failure he found
mirrored in Samuel Beckett's Watt. For his video
he therefore chose to adopt the demeanour of some of Beckett's
characters: he did not bend his knees, but held his trunk
forward at a right angle, while retracing his steps repeatedly.
The viewer's perspective is also affected, as the camera
was placed on its side. Nauman performs his walk within
the confines of the square field which the static camera
shows us.
Having written Film in 1963,
Beckett himself created a work for a television camera
in 1982, Quad: four actors shuffle in a choreographed
manner around a square in an empty room, which they enter
and leave through a curtain serving as the background.
Although Nauman (born 1941) belongs
to a younger generation and different (American) culture
from Beckett (born 1906), their engagement with each other's
media and motifs could be called reciprocal inspiration.
The question pursued here, however, is not so much whether
Beckett knew of Nauman's work on him and was inspired
by it, but what such a complicated relationship between
literature and the visual arts can tell us. Some theoretical
aspects will thus be presented briefly towards the end.
Nauman is innovative within the
context of visual art by using a relatively new technique,
video. That Watt inspired him is clear, but he
was also very probably affected by plays such as Endgame
and Happy Days, in which the characters' physical
disabilities give expression to a human inability to act.
The writer is apparently Nauman's source of inspiration
in the area of imagery or motif.
In terms of medium, Beckett,
on the other hand, used the opportunities presented to
him in Quad for others to film his work, which
remains largely stage-based, as is shown by his having
a curtain and using actors in identical clothing. Therefore,
Beckett, who knew a great deal about visual art, does
not seem to have changed his genre fully. He did not actually
create a work, which could only be understood with reference
to the History of Art. Television was, moreover, a medium
which was already well known to artists. For example,
Gerry Schum's Television Gallery was broadcast
in the Netherlands in 1971.
During documenta X, 1997,
Beckett's Quad was, however, shown within a visual-art
context (and that of Ireland, as the monitor stood opposite
James Coleman's slide projection entitled Connemara
Landscape). This would indicate that, at least retrospectively,
it can be interpreted as a film or video work or a performance
recorded in such a way. The borders between the genres
seem to have shifted somewhat further for the different
context and starting point (on Beckett's part and that
of the visitor to the documenta expecting visual
art) almost not to be noticed any more. Is the distinction
between the genres then obsolete? Has it any importance
for an artist's choice of strategy?
|
|
|
Samuel
Beckett: Quadrat I, 1981, stills;
courtesy Editions de Minuit/Südwestrundfunk
|
Beckett
has approached an 'un-literary' silence in several works,
be it the white noise-like waterfall of language in
Not I, the solitary "sssh!" in Film or the
shuffling in Quad. His later work came to rely
less on 'literary' aspects and more on visual and even
musical aspects like this shuffling and the 'percussion'
in Quad I (or Quadrat 1&2, since
both versions were filmed in Germany and were titled in
German for the Suddeutscher Rundfunk). Quad II is,
in typical Beckettian manner, once again a reduction of
means, an even sparser piece. The percussion and changes
to the lighting were removed and the whole piece was transposed
into black and white.
I would
argue that the choreographic aspect of Nauman's Slow
angle walk (Beckett walk) is even more appropriately
'Beckettian' than Beckett's own later piece. While the
actors in Quad shuffle around a focal point - although
this seems to be shunned in Quad II - there is
still a stabilising centre. Nauman's movements are more
peripheral and seemingly random, thereby not affirming
a spatial anchor, while still retaining the repetitive
aspect. Could this distrust of a centre be a result of
the visual artist's even greater reliance on space, even
in comparison with the stage-aware playwright, who nevertheless
works from a textual background?
Nauman
has continued to work on the darker side of life. His
videos show falling clowns, spinning heads screaming "Anthro/socio"
(reminiscent of Not I) and stylised violence in
a domestic setting (Violent incident, 1986), which can
easily be compared to Lucky and Pozzo's exchanges in
Waiting for Godot. Nauman's drawings and titles often
include wordplay like the anagram DEATH HATED, HATED
DEATH, 1974. He thus still shows a clear interest
not only in 'Beckett's' subject matter, but also in language
itself. He makes use of that aspect of a visual artist's
practice, which can be called literary, while reducing
the 'visual' often to a minimum, relying for example only
on very simply and even crudely sketched outlines in his
drawings. These incidentally resemble Beckett's doodles
on manuscripts, especially Watt, where there are
words in capital letters, arranged in squares together
with their anagrams.
The noise
of Nauman's Anthro/socio would also indicate a move away
from a distinctly visual preoccupation. It is hardly bearable
for the visitor and plays as much on the nerves of the
viewer as Beckett stated Not I should function.
Even in his early work, Nauman employed 'musical' means
- interestingly combined with a linguistic interest. In
Violin tuned D.E.A.D., he plays the violin, without
his head being visible, in the black-and-white video.
What he plays is the cacophony of the notes d, e, a and
d played in succession. Only the title will tell the viewer
why he or she is subjected to such 'musical torture'.
Silence itself was the topic when Nauman created a Concrete
tape recorder piece in 1968. He made sure that the
tape was on a loop and thus playable if plugged in. But
nothing would be heard and not much - apart from a concrete
cube and cable with plug - can be seen. This seems to
be a final tape, Nauman's not Krapp's Last Tape.
|
|
|
Bruce
Nauman: Concrete Tape Recorder Piece,1968, concrete,
tape recorder, tape, 30.5 x 61 x 61 cm; photo A.
Burger, Zurich; courtesy Flick Collection
|
There really
are remarkable coincidences in Beckett's and Nauman's
preoccupations. Even that reluctant symbol of hope, the
tree in Waiting for Godot, appears in Nauman's
work - but once again with a telling difference: Tree
standing on three shoulder points, 1967, appears to
be related to that famous tree from Beckett's play, in
fact so much so that the appearance of anthropomorphic
shapes at its base (shoulder points) would almost amount
to locating God(ot) in this tree as much as the single
leaf appearing in the play does.
While Beckett
and Nauman do share a vaguely existentialist outlook on
life, the conclusion one is to draw is that the notion
of futility and exhaustion is in the first instance a
reflection on the condition of their own art form, i.e.,
the genre each has departed from in their career. It seems
that, when trying to show failure, exhaustion and the
impossibility of being affirmingly creative, this would
first relate to the means of an art form with which one
has occupied oneself for a long time. The last straw as
it were, the ultimate possibility (despite all impossibilities)
of creating something is then provided by another art
form. This appears to be fresher and to include newly
available tools.
The point
at which Beckett's and Nauman's practices converge is
performance - a term used in visual art and music (one
could think of John Cage's work on silence, 4'33'', 1952),
as well as the theatre. While composers and playwrights
have always had performance at their disposal as a matter
of course, in the History of Art, 'theatrical' and 'literal',
as well as, of course, 'literary' approaches were shunned
in the middle of the twentieth century by the then prevailing
high-Modernist approach. Subsequently, Nauman and other
artists in the 1960s rebelled against having to remain
within the close confines of what modernist artistic practice
was made out to be. The energy which the visual artist's
new (and by definition interdisciplinary) performance
genre generated for all arts at the time seems to have
informed the playwright's performance in turn.
Furthermore,
in criticism - to put this very briefly - the focus has
moved from those preoccupations in the 1960s to what was
called the 'linguistic turn' in the 1970s. Here, the focus
was the structures of signifiers in any context. Everything,
not just language in a more limited sense, was termed
a text and thus differences between the genres appeared
to be less important. Anything within culture could be
'read' and - later again - deconstructed, in order to
expose 'subtexts', etc. From this historical point of
view alone it appears that Art Historians would be well
advised to be familiar with approaches to texts, approaches
still largely at home in and developed by literary scholars.
Recently
(in the 1990s), a "performative turn"
has modified and complemented earlier findings. This change
in research subjects and procedures seems to me to echo
what has been found here: a turn towards performative
strategies in Beckett's and Nauman's works, as well as
an interest in silence, a forfeiting of the nicely finished
product. A tension can be observed between textuality
in literary and visual genres and this performative drive.
Materiality and mediality, play and spectacle, as well
as nonart phenomena like rituals, dances, games, etc.,
have entered the centre of attention in cultural terms.
This again requires new kinds of interdisciplinary co-operation.
Theatre studies and anthropology seem to take a lead,
although the History of Art could very well claim expertise,
especially when looking at the recently published first
two volumes of Aby Warburg's collected writings (he died
in 1928). For the nonwestern world a performative sense
of identity has long been noticed. Regarding this performative
turn, European and North American culture appear to have
joined the rest of the world - and this not only in Warburg's
estimate, but widely acknowledged. (Coincidentally, Ireland
could be at the forefront in taking account of this performative
nature of culture, as monumental artworks have traditionally
been of lesser importance than Gaelic games, wakes, music
sessions and storytelling.)
From the
perspective outlined, interdisciplinary approaches are
more central than their still often-marginal position
in criticism would lead one to believe; they are to be
included in a genre's history as something which is necessitated
by the state of affairs within that genre. While the historic
distinctions between the arts have enabled artists to
continue to create, they do not present barriers which
interpreters should not dare to cross. Their existence
as historical givens may be a point of contention so strong
that rebelling against it can keep even the most exhausted,
misanthropic and pessimistic artist producing. The borders
between the arts are thus all-important and simultaneously
null and void.
Dr.
Christa-Maria Lerm Hayes is Government of Ireland
Post-doctoral Fellow in History of Art at University College,
Dublin, and author/curator of a forthcoming book/exhibition
on 'Joyce in Art' at the RHA, Dublin.
1
2
Article
reproduced from CIRCA 104,
Summer 2003, pp.47-50.