Laurent Grasso,
The theme of temporality has always run through his work. Attentive to the invisible, the artist uses electronic tools to explore superimposed realities, as seen in his latest work “OttO,” shown at Art Basel in June. We met with the forty-six-year-old con
L’OFFICIEL ART: You studied at the Beaux-Arts de Paris. What did you take away from your time there?
LAURENT GRASSO: I chose Beaux-Arts de Paris because there were two specific features that appealed to me: the international exchange program, and the fact that active artists dedicate a part of their time to the school. This meant you had direct contract with artists on a weekly basis, and these are artists whose work we could admire and see in galleries or museums. It gave us insight into an artistic career as a whole. The course was quite long, as it lasted five years, but it enabled my mind to wander and perform in-depth research for what would then form the matrix for my work. I took away the notion of exploring and seeing the bigger picture, coupled with the principle of experimenting in numerous ways. Thus, I had the chance to take part in two exchanges, which were both important in different respects. The first was at Cooper Union School in New York, where Hans Haacke was one of my professors. He was passionate and generous, and his classes were very structured. We were encouraged to give critical feedback on each other’s work, which we presented in turn during very fruitful working sessions. In fact, during that trip I discovered how American society worked, as well as the New York scene, galleries and museums. Since then, I haven’t lost touch with New York. It’s beneficial for an artist to confront different contexts and meet interesting people from different corners of the world. At that time, around twenty years ago, the French scene was completely different. The approach was a bit like a conquest, a challenge of being “elsewhere,” but yet also being aware of not counting on only one place or person. There wasn’t some kind of miraculous event as we’d like to believe; it was rather the sum of various factors, a global energy which enabled somewhere down the line one artist’s work to become known and be a lasting force. After New York, my second highlight was at Saint Martin’s School of Art in London. This exchange coincided with an intense period of questioning, heightened by the fact that we students had understood that we wouldn’t make it if we didn’t organize things for ourselves. We had to stage our own exhibitions and learn to understand just how important the new and alternative exhibition places opening up were. The Beaux-Arts de Paris was in high demand. It’s true, it was a rather special time because the school’s director, Alfred Pacquement (who then went on to become director of Paris’ Museum of Modern Art), knew a lot about the art scene and was keen to welcome a number of excellent artists as professors. And so this meant we had workshops lead by Gabriel Orozco, Esther Shalev-Gerz, who followed my work’s progress right from the start. I took workshops led by Pierre Buraglio, Christian Boltanski, Tony Brown and Jean-Luc Vilmouth. This dynamic meant we were offered prestigious exhibitions. My first one took place at Caisse des Dépôts et Consignations with Hervé Mikaeloff. It launched me into a professional context, which meant I had to decide what to show and how, and how to communicate about the event. And when I left school, I did a workshop at the Palais de Tokyo with Ange Leccia. He’s such a passionate artist who wants to pass on his knowledge and provide guidance. Later as part of my own workshop, I too had young artists as assistants, and that same exchange happened: sharing our experiences enabled us all to widen our visions.
These types of encounters are important because they give you a sense of security and encourage you to continue. That said, the best way to help a young artist is by offering them visibility by exhibiting their work.
Did your gnawing questions end up holding any truth?
I would question myself permanently about what I should do, shouldn’t do, how to bring the circumstances together to speak as an artist, to have the opportunity to put something practical into place. I had to grasp aesthetic, theoretical and philosophical issues of the time. To not choose the wrong questions, to not answer anachronistic questions. It’s about constantly questioning everything intellectually to understand where to invest your energy. Contrary to what others lead you to believe, being an artist isn’t only about self-expression, but it’s about helping to further a practice as a whole, to exchange with contemporaries, with the past, the future and coming up with a pertinent position which interrogates the world.
After being an artist in residence at Villa Medici (2004-2005), you won the prestigious Marcel-Duchamp Prize (2008). What impact did these two events have on your career and your artistic approach?
Villa Medici is an inspiring, yet rather complicated, place. You have to have lived it to understand the complexity of the situation of being an artist in residence. It’s a magnificent and spectacular place whose beauty can almost destroy you. However, it’s also a place that isn’t adequately structured to assist artists in the 21st century. Today, an artist isn’t someone who works
solitarily in their studio, shunning interpersonal relationships: an artist needs support. That is to say, they need an intellectual exchange, practical help and a network. Villa Medici provided me with the support I needed to create projects, in particularly to gain access to other places, such as the Cinecittà and certain areas in the Vatican for a short film on the Pope’s funeral, an event to which I was invited. I understood that the Villa was a political place and a place for show. Retrospectively, thanks to the projects that I was able to carry out, I reckon I came out pretty well. However, I do think I owe the place my super-organization and self-discipline skills. Incidentally, I noticed a similarity with the Beaux-Arts de Paris in the sort of wondering spirit it helps you develop. Yet, having too much time distresses me deeply. Today, when I travel for work, I want everything to be organized beforehand, because I can define my ideas through planning. Rome is a city that inspired me immensely thanks to its wealth of history it has to offer, but it must fit in with the project’s dynamic, otherwise it won’t work. As for the MarcelDuchamp Prize, it came at a time which coincided with a solo exhibition at the Centre Pompidou, which was huge in terms of artistic ambition. Some 45,000 visitors came to my exhibition. It was an important project and a real challenge dictated by the obligation to make the most of the space.
A number of your solo exhibitions feature immersive or labyrinth-like structures. Why is this?
In my opinion, an exhibition is an outcome and a medium in itself. The artistic matter is not only visual, but audio, architectural, contextual and historical, as well as being almost invisible. Thus, I use a place’s memory and ghosts, but also waves, frequencies, lights and certain vibrations. As soon as I start on a piece, the idea emerges that different frequencies hurtle at us, and the environment around the artwork inevitably has an impact on the visitor. Also, in my exhibitions, I want to seize the whole environment and not only one object, but also the object’s context, as well as the invisible, and everything else that will influence the visitor. In my recent projects, I used thermal and hyperspectral imaging cameras to film sacred aboriginal sites in Australia. The idea was to identify interfaces between realities and forces that flow from these realms, where the eyes cannot access, but today certain tools enable us to see. It’s an interesting metaphor to take on everything that can be artistic matter.
You’re part of a small group of artists whose work encompasses public space (Solar Wind, 2016; Couvent des Jacobins, 2018; Institut de France, 2019). How to you approach this complex exercise in style? And what do you take away from it?
I’ve been interested in public space ever since my studies. I’ve always had a taste for sideline activities and the road less travelled, and for creating enigmatic installations in this sort of blurred status of objects and situations that I try and invent. Public space makes us reassess the setting, making for a rather unique discovery: the viewer isn’t prepared to see what is presented. One of my first installations in a public space was at the Parcours Saint-Germain (2004): I placed powerful flashlights on the roof of the town hall, which would go off randomly to create the impression of day during the night. It was quite unsettling and sufficiently fleeting so that you didn’t know where the light was coming from. In addition to these oneoff installations are permanent projects. They last longer than an exhibition, and really allow you the time to reflect personally, compared to a structure that is currently being built or completed. I recently worked with the architect Marc Barani on the Institut de France, a historic place and an ideal setting. The institution was looking to reinvent itself and open up to the world with an architect who has a respect for the artist’s work, and who views the commission not as a subtraction of his own work, but as a complementary point of view. And so I created ten luminous sculptures in onyx, fixed to the courtyard’s façade. They were inspired by the Institut’s history and by Minerva, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge.
That you produce work in different media gives us a glimpse into your intense research into form. What is your process for “formalizing” an idea?
Every time there is a new exhibition, research or trip, there is a back and forth between the existing work, the practical application and the context. There is always some kind of investigation or exploration, connecting your research with the aim of the work your creating. It’s in this clever mix of constraints, timing, personal inclinations and dialogue with different people that can bring ideas to light. And so with this in mind, I conceived my own studio as a thinking machine, one in which I integrated people whose role is not only to create but also to research. It’s quite risky as it’s not about being efficient, but something more exploration-focused. I expose ideas (works, exhibitions) and I ask my teams to make them well.
The notions of conscious/subconscious, reality/fiction underpin your work. How do you perceive the world and human relationships?
My approach is rather methodical, scientific and rational, but I try and open up my field of vision to new ways of seeing the world, including all factors such as the details about a place and its history. The invisible is not necessarily what is unknown, it has more of structuralist power, or fits with the fantasy of wanting to measure and understand everything. As part of my project set in the French President’s office at the Elysée Palace, or even the one on sacred aboriginal sites, the idea was that one day we could measure what moves, influences or transforms us in a place that we have a strong attachment. And so my work embarks on ideas towards new hypotheses, new ways of viewing the world with the help of scientific theory so as to enable us to see things differently. The freedom to create can also be achieved by not depending on one context alone. It’s also the reason why I work on various projects. My film OttO will be shown as part of Unlimited at Art Basel. I’m incredibly fortunate because the fair provides enormous visibility. My approach was to film boulders and mountains as though they were human presences, and to approach the question of non-human and the living: this is a major question for artists today who are rethinking the vegetal and other subjects excluded from artistic thought. The result of this longterm project might be seen at Perrotin at Art Basel, but also at the Sydney Biennale and the Havana Biennale. What also captures my attention is fiction. Basically, I take reality as a basis because I believe that it’s more interesting than purely inventing a virtual world.
-COMMISSION FOR THE INSTITUT DE FRANCE, 23 QUAI DE CONTI AND 3 RUE MAZARINE, PARIS, PERMANENT INSTALLATION INAUGURATED FEBRUARY 2019. -“BIENALSUR - WAY OF SEEING,” ARTISTS OF THE PRIX DUCHAMP, MUSEO NACIONAL DE ARTE DECORATIVO, BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA, JUNE TO OCTOBER 2019.