On Kawara exhibition explores time and place on a daily basis (photo by David Heald / © Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York)
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum
1071 Fifth Ave. at 89th St.
Friday – Wednesday through May 3, $18-$25 (pay-what-you-wish Saturday 5:45-7:45)
212-423-3587
guggenheim.org
In many ways, Japanese Conceptual artist On Kawara was the first blogger, sharing details of his life via his own social-media platforms long before the internet, but never actually revealing much about his true self. As the splendid Guggenheim exhibition “On Kawara — Silence” discloses, Kawara, who was born in Japan in 1933 and spent most of his life in New York City, where he died last July while the installation was being put together (with his participation), took a rather objective view of existence. His oeuvre comprises postcards he sent to friends and colleagues telling them what time he woke up that morning, extensive notebooks listing who he came into contact with that day, maps of where he went, telegrams to friends and colleagues confirming he was alive, and paintings of the date, accompanied by often random newspaper clippings from the same day. These elements tell us everything about Kawara, and nothing. “How can we avoid misrepresenting the art of On Kawara?” senior curator Jeffrey Weiss asks in his catalog essay, “Bounded Infinity.” “Perhaps misrepresentation of Kawara’s work is not only inevitable but useful. To be sure, regarding the work of any artist, the things we choose to say are always haunted by the things we leave out. With Kawara, however, this aspect of interpretation is specifically, even strategically compounded by the work’s evasive status.” This evasiveness extends into the Guggenheim’s online bio of Kawara, which merely states, “29,771 days,” the exact length of time he was on this planet.
On Kawara, “Telegram to Sol LeWitt, Febryary 5, 1970,” from “I Am Still Alive,” 1970-2000 (© On Kawara. Photo by Kris McKay © The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York)
Such series as “I Got Up,” “Today,” “I Met,” “I Am Still Alive,” and “One Hundred Years” engage viewers and encourage exploration despite their obvious repetitiveness, as they lead you to ponder the days of your own past, the people you’ve met, the places you’ve been, and the things that happened on specific dates, which hold different memories for different people, eliciting unique emotional responses. Every Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday from 11:00 am to 5:00 pm on the rotunda, there are continuous live readings of “One Million Years,” Kawara’s lists of dates going back and forward one million years, the annums echoing through the Guggenheim. But mostly Kawara’s output is centered on the here and now, where we are at this precise time and place. “He tells us: ‘It is today!’” artist Daniel Buren writes in his catalog essay, “A Moment’s Footprint.” “On Kawara — Silence” is also a natural fit for the Guggenheim; the show is arranged primarily chronologically by series, so as visitors rise up the museum’s spiraling walkway, they circle through intriguing aspects of Kawara’s daily existence. “It had always been his dream to have a show at the Guggenheim because of the cyclical nature of time and the way that the building represents that,” assistant curator Anne Wheeler points out in an online video. “On Kawara — Silence” speaks volumes, about both him and us. (On April 28 at 6:30, “Duologues on Kawara: Alfredo Jaar and Tom McDonough” will examine Kawara’s work in relation to world events and sociocultural critique.)