A letter written in November 2005 from Alan Smith to Ms. Helen Legg, Curator at Ikon Gallery, Birmingham.
Dear Helen, November, 2005
Although we have spoken at some length about my installation “In Perpetuity”, it now seems a good moment to explain to you a little of the history and thinking behind its construction.
As you already know, “£1512” emerged out of the closure of Ceramic Workshop Edinburgh. The intention was to convert the Workshop into a work of art, which would live on indefinitely through investing its last remaining funds; indefinitely re-invested and endlessly expanding – doubling every five years - into a financial ‘black hole’.
All this began 28 years ago when the work was first shown in 1977, and over those years questions are regularly asked: “What’s it worth now?”, or “How much will it be worth in ten years?”, or “Is it true it’ll be worth £400M by the end of the century?”.
The great problem with these questions is that, they miss the fundamental meaning of the work: namely, that the ‘encased’ money has no worth whatsoever! You see, if we consider money as a commodity for exchange, a method of purchasing our daily needs - and in the case of £400M, our wildest dreams - then of course “£1512” would be a tool to aid our fantasies.
However, the reality is that when “£1512” absorbs money into itself, then that money is taken out of the fresh air of circulation. Through its mumification, the money ‘consumed’ ceases to serve the purpose for which it was originally created. Now £1512, no longer a medium for exchange of goods or services, has become a monumentalised symbol of its previous existence.
This of course, is a game, and if you will allow me, I’d like to show you how it works.
In 2004, Raphael’s “Madonna of the Pinks” was purchased for £22M. The painting is about the size of a piece of typing paper and was commissioned in Florence around 1507. As a devotional painting, it was designed to be held in the hands and was probably painted as a gift for a widow who was about to enter a convent.
In Renaissance thinking, carnation ‘pinks’ symbolised marriage; appropriate for a lady about to enter the enclosed life of a nun, and to ‘marry’ herself to Christ.
Now let’s look at the economics of the painting. Raphael would have had a staff of at least six people; there would have been two senior assistants and three or four apprentices as well as servants, and all of them needed paying. Then there was his studio rent as well as living accommodation. On top of this, there were the suppliers of the cherry-wood panel, the his brush makers, the apothecaries – probably on the Via Porta Rossa – who supplied him with his pigments and finally, his frame-maker.
Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that after all expenses were paid out, his total outlay was - in contemporary monetary terms - £1512. Now, Raphael would have wanted to make a profit, so let’s say he sold the work for £6,000. In 1507, this would have been the price paid by his patron in order to possess the concept of devotion and fidelity embodied onto the wooden panel painted by Raphael.
In 2004, however, its original function as an object of devotion no longer exists. The Madonna of the Pinks now belongs to a rare collection of old master paintings, which, because of their unique artistic skill as well as their rarity, are of great value. £22M, therefore, is the most recent price paid in order to possess the now modern concept of this work of art. Money – as a medium of exchange - has changed hands in order to possess the art which, in turn, becomes a medium of exchange.
If “£1512” was available for sale, what would its value be today? It certainly couldn’t be the current value of its investment. The original sum of £1512 is simply the equivalent to the costs incurred by Raphael when he painted his cherry-wood panel.
The game the two works play together is, on the one hand money, employed to consume art and on the other hand, art employed to consume money.
How much is “£1512” worth? A good question!
For most of the last 28 years, “£1512” has remained unseen. As a conceptual piece of work, this didn’t matter too much, as over the years its story has quietly leaked out. However, unwrapping it this year for the first in a very long time, it did occur to me that, implied within the minimal form of a black brief case was present the preciousness of the unseen painting. The painting had to come from the Renaissance, and had to be framed like a devotional ikon. In the Renaissance, the rich merchant commissioned and donated paintings to his local church. The paintings were hung high in order to display the donor’s family crest at the bottom ot the frame. All of this was illuminated from beneath by a candle.
The donor saw himself as the real creator and the artist as a tool to his vision and ambitions. It is for this reason the phrase DONATOR FECIT (THE DONOR MADE THIS) can often be seen on Italian works of art and architecture.
I painted the “Donor Painting” using traditional methods on oak panel and took as the subject a floating piece of cloth. The cloth is ephemeral, and in a moment may change its shape, or even vanish from within its ornate classical frame. The names of the antique donors have long vanished. It’s the work that remains in perpetuity.
If “£1512” is a work belonging to a conceptual way of thinking in art, and if conceptual art has grown out of Dada, a movement which spurned the practice of painting, then there should be no place for a painting in this work. Yet, “£1512” and the “Donor Painting” need each other to play out their rather unpredictable and chaotic games. The “Donor Painting” performs an impertinent hand-stand in the presence of the sober and serious face of money.
Some have seen connections between In Perpetuity and Duchamp’s Etant Donnes. Of course I’m flattered and it’s not the first time my thinking has crossed paths with Duchamp. It is true that, like Etant Donnes, In Perpetuity has a similar name in the Donor Painting. There are also two numbered works and there is also an ‘illuminating’ candle. If there really is a connection, then I have to believe that the floating piece of flimsy cloth could be seen as the last item of clothing discarded by the ‘Nude’, as she ‘Descends a Staircase!
Very best wishes,
Alan
Dear Helen, November, 2005
Although we have spoken at some length about my installation “In Perpetuity”, it now seems a good moment to explain to you a little of the history and thinking behind its construction.
As you already know, “£1512” emerged out of the closure of Ceramic Workshop Edinburgh. The intention was to convert the Workshop into a work of art, which would live on indefinitely through investing its last remaining funds; indefinitely re-invested and endlessly expanding – doubling every five years - into a financial ‘black hole’.
All this began 28 years ago when the work was first shown in 1977, and over those years questions are regularly asked: “What’s it worth now?”, or “How much will it be worth in ten years?”, or “Is it true it’ll be worth £400M by the end of the century?”.
The great problem with these questions is that, they miss the fundamental meaning of the work: namely, that the ‘encased’ money has no worth whatsoever! You see, if we consider money as a commodity for exchange, a method of purchasing our daily needs - and in the case of £400M, our wildest dreams - then of course “£1512” would be a tool to aid our fantasies.
However, the reality is that when “£1512” absorbs money into itself, then that money is taken out of the fresh air of circulation. Through its mumification, the money ‘consumed’ ceases to serve the purpose for which it was originally created. Now £1512, no longer a medium for exchange of goods or services, has become a monumentalised symbol of its previous existence.
This of course, is a game, and if you will allow me, I’d like to show you how it works.
In 2004, Raphael’s “Madonna of the Pinks” was purchased for £22M. The painting is about the size of a piece of typing paper and was commissioned in Florence around 1507. As a devotional painting, it was designed to be held in the hands and was probably painted as a gift for a widow who was about to enter a convent.
In Renaissance thinking, carnation ‘pinks’ symbolised marriage; appropriate for a lady about to enter the enclosed life of a nun, and to ‘marry’ herself to Christ.
Now let’s look at the economics of the painting. Raphael would have had a staff of at least six people; there would have been two senior assistants and three or four apprentices as well as servants, and all of them needed paying. Then there was his studio rent as well as living accommodation. On top of this, there were the suppliers of the cherry-wood panel, the his brush makers, the apothecaries – probably on the Via Porta Rossa – who supplied him with his pigments and finally, his frame-maker.
Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that after all expenses were paid out, his total outlay was - in contemporary monetary terms - £1512. Now, Raphael would have wanted to make a profit, so let’s say he sold the work for £6,000. In 1507, this would have been the price paid by his patron in order to possess the concept of devotion and fidelity embodied onto the wooden panel painted by Raphael.
In 2004, however, its original function as an object of devotion no longer exists. The Madonna of the Pinks now belongs to a rare collection of old master paintings, which, because of their unique artistic skill as well as their rarity, are of great value. £22M, therefore, is the most recent price paid in order to possess the now modern concept of this work of art. Money – as a medium of exchange - has changed hands in order to possess the art which, in turn, becomes a medium of exchange.
If “£1512” was available for sale, what would its value be today? It certainly couldn’t be the current value of its investment. The original sum of £1512 is simply the equivalent to the costs incurred by Raphael when he painted his cherry-wood panel.
The game the two works play together is, on the one hand money, employed to consume art and on the other hand, art employed to consume money.
How much is “£1512” worth? A good question!
For most of the last 28 years, “£1512” has remained unseen. As a conceptual piece of work, this didn’t matter too much, as over the years its story has quietly leaked out. However, unwrapping it this year for the first in a very long time, it did occur to me that, implied within the minimal form of a black brief case was present the preciousness of the unseen painting. The painting had to come from the Renaissance, and had to be framed like a devotional ikon. In the Renaissance, the rich merchant commissioned and donated paintings to his local church. The paintings were hung high in order to display the donor’s family crest at the bottom ot the frame. All of this was illuminated from beneath by a candle.
The donor saw himself as the real creator and the artist as a tool to his vision and ambitions. It is for this reason the phrase DONATOR FECIT (THE DONOR MADE THIS) can often be seen on Italian works of art and architecture.
I painted the “Donor Painting” using traditional methods on oak panel and took as the subject a floating piece of cloth. The cloth is ephemeral, and in a moment may change its shape, or even vanish from within its ornate classical frame. The names of the antique donors have long vanished. It’s the work that remains in perpetuity.
If “£1512” is a work belonging to a conceptual way of thinking in art, and if conceptual art has grown out of Dada, a movement which spurned the practice of painting, then there should be no place for a painting in this work. Yet, “£1512” and the “Donor Painting” need each other to play out their rather unpredictable and chaotic games. The “Donor Painting” performs an impertinent hand-stand in the presence of the sober and serious face of money.
Some have seen connections between In Perpetuity and Duchamp’s Etant Donnes. Of course I’m flattered and it’s not the first time my thinking has crossed paths with Duchamp. It is true that, like Etant Donnes, In Perpetuity has a similar name in the Donor Painting. There are also two numbered works and there is also an ‘illuminating’ candle. If there really is a connection, then I have to believe that the floating piece of flimsy cloth could be seen as the last item of clothing discarded by the ‘Nude’, as she ‘Descends a Staircase!
Very best wishes,
Alan