Tim Hawkinson: Ace • New York, New York
Walking into the world of Los Angeles
artist Tim Hawkinson at Ace Gallery New York is not unlike a stroll along
the bottom of the ocean or inside the human body. A “spacelessness”
and timelessness permeate the gallery. The slow, deliberate movement of
many of the pieces, the odd compositions of sound, and the inventive material
explorations create a pulsing and breathing that transform gallery space
into organism. The nuances and subtle sounds and movements are so essential
to experiencing Hawkinson’s work that neither word nor image can
even begin to depict the richness and fullness of an actual encounter.
bath generated contour lace I lay in a bathtub which was filling slowly
with black paint, photographing every few minutes as the paint crept up
and over, diminishing islands of skin. Superimposing these images, I developed
a contoured pattern which I then rendered in the meandering lace drawing.
—Tim Hawkinson
Entering the cavernous rooms, it becomes evident that the gallery is just
an extension of the artist’s studio—a studio transported, not
dramatically transformed, into gallery space. Rather than an over-conceptualized
or cautious presentation, the exhibition becomes a metaphor for the continuum
between art-making and art-showing. This continuum does not assume a lack
of thoughtfulness in the installation, but instead puts the emphasis back
on the art and the art-making. This bountiful, unedited, and lively exhibition
transforms interior or gallery space into animated space. One of the more
animated pieces in the show, bagpipe, 1995, made from cardboard tubes,
plastic water bottles, a green tarp, string, electric motors, and reeds,
bellows deep hollow sounds from the cardboard horns. Eventually, one gets
the feeling that this collective body of work, an ecosystem unto itself,
is so alive that it might grow and expand out of Ace’s enormous and
chilling rooms.
head I painted latex rubber over all the surfaces of our bathroom, peeled
this skin away and inflated it.
—Tim Hawkinson
A larger-than-life, inflated, manila-colored latex bathroom, head remains
inflated only by a generous source of oxygen keeping it “alive.”
As you walk into the room where head has been temporarily housed, the
inflated bathroom hovers several feet over the ground like a Goodyear
Blimp. A latex imprint of the interior walls of the bathroom including
windows and doors, the immense sculpture is the “skin” of the
bathroom peeled away and inflated. “Bathroom” has been transfigured
into oxygenated body with plumbing. head is accompanied by other inflated
latex pieces, including a pregnant-looking latex wall and a man with genitalia.
Hawkinson’s work has a Yankee ingenuity and a pioneering quality
with few imposed restrictions or boundaries. Yet within this boundary-less
methodology exists a very rigorous structure and approach to working.
A wooden school desk, signature 1993, is transformed into a home-spun
writing machine that only writes one name—Tim Hawkinson. It then
chops off each signature, creating a mound of scraps of paper bearing
“the artist’s signature.” Hawkinson is totally self-reliant,
seeking no technical assistance. Equally important to Hawkinson’s
commitment to invention and discovery is his commitment to accessibility.
Even though the work itself is not conceptually, materially, or spiritually
simple, what you see is what you get. Whether what you are “seeing
and getting” is a large doily made of caulking compound on the floor
or a music box made from a clear five-gallon plastic water bottle, the
evolution and execution of the pieces are exposed and evident. As Hawkinson
has implied, “the me in the work is us.” The process of figuring
out how he makes his pieces, including movement and sound, is exposed
and readily available if the viewer is willing to even passively participate.
Simple and straightforward, no mysterious technical wizardry or tricks
are employed.
humongolous is a map charting all the surfaces of my skin which I could
see directly. Starting with my left hand, I gridded off my palm and painted
it square by square onto the larger grid drawn on the paper. In this way
I wound around my hand, up my arm and across the rest of my epidermis,
detailing and expanding the areas which were more accessible.—Tim
Hawkinson
In the tradition of a long line of artists preceding him, Hawkinson employs
humble materials like the ordinary, commonplace, or waste materials we
encounter daily. Not unlike other Los Angeles artists who, because of
freeways and distance, become prisoners to the barrios and studios in
which they live, he uses the materials that are most accessible or immediately
available to him. A semi-hermit and homebody who prefers not to venture
out of his downtown loft space, Hawkinson often collects materials that
are geographically desirable—in other words in his alley, block,
or neighborhood.
More than a political, theoretical, or even specific thematic positioning,
Tim Hawkinson concerns himself in a very Zen way with the “present
moment”—his present thoughts and environment. His work is informed
by a very primal relationship to “body.” Rather than conceptually
challenging or cynically critiquing, his work engages and invites. Materially
and conceptually, there is a sense of immediacy and improvisation about
the work—what’s at hand is what he makes art out of and about.
Despite the apparent casualness of the scavenging, his assemblages are
meticulous, thoughtful, and highly detailed. With a spirit of humor and
inventiveness, he transforms the decaying urban environment around him
into a world that is as disquieting as it is fanciful. Terri Friedman
Venice, California
November 1995