One of the defining features of transcendent art is that it perceives connections where there’s seemingly none, and it launches you into a new dimension. Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster has been making such art since the 1980s in the form of large, immersive installations that are haunting and engrossing. For instance, in “TH.2058” (2008) the artist imagined London in 2058 by turning Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall into a shelter for people and artworks. She filled the vast hall with bunk beds while playing a film made of short clips from sci-fi movies, in a nod to possible states of catastrophe that have recently become more relatable than we would’ve wished.
Recent projects have seen the artist collaborating with fashion label BLESS and Manuel Raeder in “Costumes & Wishes for the 21st Century”, where costumes from the artist’s 2013 apparitions explore the spirit of transformation. While for group show “The Infinite Mix” in London, Gonzalez-Foerster lip-synchs Maria Callas in full gown. Displayed in the form of a chilling holographic apparition in the back of a cavernous space at the Store, the work plays with our perception of reality and multi-sensory memory.
We met the artist at her latest major commission at the newly opened MAAT in Lisbon – “Pynchon Park” – to discuss the meaning of national identity, the influence of literature in her art and the dystopian rise of the far-right.
“For me utopia is only two streets away from dystopia” – Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster
Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, “Pychon Park”
SLEEK: Because of your name I’ve always wondered where you’re from?
Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster: My father is half French half Spanish, my mother is German but I grew up in France. But I never feel French.
Why don’t you feel French?
It’s too limited to this kind of national identity also I have a German mother and I spend a lot of time in Brazil. I don’t think we are defined by our nationality.
Often people refer to you as the French artist though.
I actually wanted them to take it out of the text because what does that mean, you know? This kind of definition is completely meaningless. Unless I was really exploring that dimension there is no point. I always get upset when I see this kind of restrictions.
So as a citizen of the world what does utopia mean to you?
It’s a word I never use. For me utopia is only two streets away from dystopia and as much as I am interested in dystopia it has never been part of my work. In fact I think the combination of utopia-dystopia only came after Pedro Gadanho [MAAT’s director] invited me. Initially he only said they were doing a show about dystopia and asked me if I was interested in imagining something for this place that hadn’t been built yet.
It’s interesting here because this is a new place and I like to work with context so this is more like a brave new world. I imagined a situation based on a lot of things I’ve been reading and thinking but I imagined it like a kind of tale. I imagined that some extraterrestrials took over, who wanted to watch humans and to study them, so they decide to set up this place and they noticed that humans like balls and they like books.
“I believe in irritation as a great tool to generate stronger memories” – Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster
Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, “Pychon Park”
Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, “Pychon Park”.
What do you think the aliens would think looking at the space full of people exploring?
Well, exactly the same we do when we look at monkeys in the zoo – they sit, they flirt, etc. These extraterrestrials don’t really have bad intentions, they’re similar to humans. When humans build zoos they don’t do it with the intention of hurting these animals. So in that sense it’s really replicating a human attitude.
This is a rather audience based exhibition and you can look at it from many different ways. It’s almost like a stage – but it’s not a theater – that works better with a lot of people because it makes it work (they activate it.) Then there is this moment when you are stuck inside or outside. I think it generates the experience in the sense of a moment and this is not necessarily part of a usual exhibition experience where everything is more based on the premise that “I spend the time than I want in front of the work”. In fact, we build our own time with it. And then suddenly there is a little something. I believe in irritation as a great tool to generate stronger memories. I don’t think our show should be just loungy, and so here there’s a seductive aspect and a philosophical dimension. I like this multi-layered approach.
I don’t think my practice carries a specific message bu I am always curious about what it generates. Like when this space is full is very interesting to watch and see if it works and why it works. I felt there were interesting moments watching the people interacting, I like this watching, this double thing of the situation. And to stage that and make that visible is interesting.
“I grew up in a feminist hippie environment where there was no doubt that there was a kind of progress in terms of ideals and to simply imagine what is happening now would have seemed completely dystopic at that time.”
What do you think about reality TV?
I’ve been watching a bit of it when it started, but then it is always the same basically the way it is manipulated, you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it all, no? It’s just interesting because it is about humans, what they want to see and so on. It’s always this thing of what is realism? What seems real? This is interesting because this was a big issue in paintings and cinema, like what is as close as possible to what we define as real or in relation to reality. I usually like the 1:1 scale for art, I like that you enter it on a human scale and you’re not watching a model or an image, you’re in the situation. So in that sense it is a good question.
Do you feel affected by the rise of far right in the world?
Very much, of course! I grew up in the 70s, so as a child of the 70s I would never ever have imagined what is happening now. Never. I grew up in a feminist hippie environment where there was no doubt that there was a kind of progress in terms of ideals and to simply imagine what is happening now would have seemed completely dystopic at that time.
I feel like the work tells a kind of a 70s story. I am very inspired by the writer Thomas Pynchon. In his novels counterculture is a very strong element and you have characters who are anarchists and explore the non-institutional moments or the non-organized moments. For me literature is very inspiring, also visually even though it might sound strange. I recommend you read Pynchon, he is very inspiring. People call his novels maximalist novels because they incorporate so many aspects of the world like politics and relationships.
“I’ve always been interested in fashion but the same way as I am interested in music, literature and not more.”
Are you planning on doing any new collaborations with any fashion labels?
I am doing something with Bless in Berlin. Bless is a collective with two girls – they’ve been active since the 90s and they’re amazing. So we are doing something together with Berlin designer Manuel Raeder at The Schinkel Pavilion in Berlin.
What is your relationship with fashion as a consumer?
Did you see the show at the Pompidou? There is one room where it’s like a biography in clothing. I’ve always been interested in fashion but the same way as I am interested in music, literature and not more. Just as a component. I had a first passion for Comme Des Garçons and then Balenciaga. There is little fashion that I find really interesting but it’s like architecture – we live inside it. I realised the clothes I wear are like a portable studio, it’s a miniature architecture, it’s very important because where you live is very emotional and it’s also a language it’s says something. So I’ve always kept all of my clothes.
Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster’s “Pynchon Park” is at MAAT in Lisbon until 6 February 2017