Rudolf Stingel, Untitled (2002).aTriFf
Art-writing is loaded with so much shit that it takes over political babbling. What is it? Tropes of banality are displayed along with descriptive bits to conflate fact and fiction. Soon rhetorical inflation grows to the point of fatuous, pathological farce. Take a look at this blurb from the Saatchi Website featuring the work of Rudolf Stingel:
The painting above Rudolf Stingel's Untitled is comprised of two panels taken from a previous installation. In a monumental architectural intervention, Stingel lined a museum’s walls, floor, and ceiling with pre-fab insulation panels; the silver surfaces recontextualising the gallery as an environment of reflection and super-futurism. Viewers were invited to participate in the piece by carving into the foam panels, with the resulting graffiti creating an intricately etched pattern which constantly evolved throughout the exhibition. In Untitled, the names, messages, and drawings of these viewers are exhibited as a separate piece in its own right, elevating the artwork of everyday people as a field of sublime contemplation.See how words work: The blue marks describe "what is," whereas the light-red marks evaluate. At times they intersect (the blurb's ending in deep-red adds the cherry to the cake).
Whether art or politics, in the end it's all about selling your pitch -whatever it takes.*
*Stingel's Untitled mimics history in a post-Fordist way (literally!), not as the markings of anonymity trough time, but as art-friendly interactivity. In the manner of Victorian art, it banalizes what it reveres. Pseudos deflate!: The old wall becomes foam, the anonymous and random markings become the useful and purposeful tags, the street becomes the museum, i.e., at the snap of a finger, the historic multitude turns into Stingel's Untitled.