Jeff Wall

I did not encounter Jeff Wall’s photographical work Boxing because I went to see the exhibition at the Stedelijk Museum of Amsterdam (http://www.stedelijk.nl/en/press/press-images/jeff-wall). I did encounter it (on a poster for this very show, thus as a reproduction) because instead of going to Amsterdam, I did prefer to make a walk from The Hague center to Scheveningen that rainy Saturday to see the sea. And suddenly, after having reached Scheveningen by walking along the canal and while enjoying the avenues, the canalside, the park like landscape on the other side with ponds, all this seemingly enjoyed as well by a father with his two kids, by ducks and occasionally by some rather fat seagulls, and by some people jogging despite of the drizzling rain (it was still to become worse that day) – I was confronted with Boxing – because the poster for the Amsterdam show was posted on a recycling bin (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recycling_bin).

(Picture: straatfotos.nl)

I did take a closer look, not at the bin, but at the photography, because I find that Jeff Wall’s works are always interesting no matter the context, and one might say, even more interesting because of a particular context – that you would rather not find in a museum show. And here it was the rain, the green, the village of Scheveningen, the father with his two kids, the occasionally showing up (rather fat) seagulls, and finally myself, being interested in what this particular picture showed or made me feel (and I remember a sudden feeling of satisfaction growing inside of me because of, somehow, but I don’t know exactly why, having found something interesting, unusual and being worth of further reflection).
From that first looking at Boxing I do recall realizing the art objects carefully arranged in the background, including the – as I thought – carefully chosen model of a prehistoric Venus, and I recall realizing, rather instinctively, the tension between all this carefully arranged objects and also works of art (in a livingroom, apparently designed as a showroom and like taken from a rather impersonal catalogue) and the two boys boxing.
Jeff Wall says in his commentary on Boxing (http://whitecube.com/channel/in_the_gallery_past/jeff_wall_on_boxing) that the two boys liked the idea of having them box, and it is indeed this doing something that it is not meant to be done in this showroom, makes boxing a likable picture (and maybe just because the tension might remain rather a soft one and not lead to the destruction of the room including the objects in it, and maybe a father shows up (I am thinking more of a father here than of a mother) who, as the boys know, will make an end to their playful fight, and if he is a loving father, maybe after joining them playfully for a couple of seconds, and also caring for the safety of objects and the impeccableness of the room.
Usually I find it a little pretentious to think of comtemporary artists as »painters of modern life« (and to think of Baudelaire), but here, recalling the picture in this particular context, I find that the picture has the strengh to adapt and to react to this very context and to become more and more interesting the longer one does reflect upon it.
But let us also think about the recyling bin, which is or was not only a bin, but also a space for advertising a particular show, and one might guess that the people living in that neighborhood of Scheveningen do regularly use that bin (unless it would not be suitable to use it as a space), and also are regularly visitors of art shows (or maybe they reflect upon art while standing in front of such a recycling bin, just like I am been doing virtually now), thinking that the awareness of the circulation of objects, of chains, not only of food, but also of reproduction and recyling is something very comtemporary. Only that the objects within the picture itself are of a very different kind (no object that I would see to end up in such a bin is in the picture): These carefully chosen objects are all meant to stay where they are, at least until they would be replaced (because the room had somehow to be refreshed) or because there would be a splitting of the family, or in the end, if the boys have finally grown up, it will be about heritage some day.

(Picture: wohnwagen-forum.de)

This all was probably, although I am only realizing it now, part of my first response to Boxing. Because I have been confronted with the task of taking such carefully arranged (and even more personally chosen) objects down, because something has ended, because it has to go on (and rooms are not necessarily meant to be museums, because this reminds you that something has ended, all the time). And I know that rooms that people have really lived in, do not look that clean as this carefully designed catalogue photography setting for a kid’s boxfight. Which is why I feel there is also a certain gloominess being part of the picture’s potential to instigate response, because it seems to me that this family living in that particular flat might be well equipped, and maybe they are to be seen as succesfully arranged immigrants, but somehow, despite the kids obviously enjoy themselves, a certain warmth of being really settled in a room, in a country, and within a culture is lacking (while the choice of objects seems to be rather an encylopedic or eclectic one).
The artist’s commentary, by the way, pointed to another detail, that I had not realized while seeing Boxing for the first time. Among the art objects is also place for natural forms, for a declaration, one might say, that nature is appreciated or being reflected upon here. But while standing in the particular context of a drizzling rain, I had more an eye for the contrast of a showside living room, on the one hand, and the nature outside the picture, on the other. And later, when I saw the father at the canal side with his two boys (or his two kids, I don’t recall if there was a girl), I was probably not thinking about this all, including me, being in one picture of, yes, modern or contemporary life, because the ground was becoming more sandy, the smells of the sea were reminding me of why in the first place I was doing that walk. The brickwork church just behind the dike showed up, and I did see the sea.
But thinking back now it is like this is all within a larger frame. The bin, the neighborhood, the atmosphere of green nature along a canal side, my personal memories and hopes and fears and thoughts, and a particular picture, if only a photography in reproduction, that radiates, even it is only a reproduction, posted at a recycling bin.

(Picture: artblart.com)

Postscript: In our society collectors win our full attention. But what about the strategies of getting rid of things? Of having objects (for once not values) disappear? Or maybe not disappear, but having re-enter objects into whatever chains of (for once not reproduction or representation, but) recycling?
On one of my usual strolls, these days, I faced one of these assemblies of objects that people put outside in front of their houses, with a sign saying »for free«. It’s about getting rid of things, but also about inviting people to recycle. People like me. And from what I took with me (because it was for free) I now did assemble a Jeff Wall homage, a still life, using the following objects:

• a small-size water carafe, containing two dead insects (one a bee, obviously, the other a bug I was’t able to identify)
• a dwarf with a long beard, probably meant to cart a wheelbarrow behind his back (missing)
• a flying angel (or putto with wings), probably meant to hold something (a candle?), but since the object was also missing, only defining a ring with his arms
• an undefined natural object (maybe a nut or fruit shell from some exotic tree)
• a miniature plastic women’s shoe, probably not meant as an erotic object, but reminding objects one does occasionally see at art fairs (which are probably inspired by the kind of object that I found)

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