Instalment 1 (visual art)_v3

...and art for all
4 min readFeb 27, 2024

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Kosuth, Joseph. One and Three Chairs. One and Three Lamps. Clock (One and Five). 1965.

This is a series of art installations, all displayed in 1965. Observe. Commonalities between the three pieces? An everyday object, a black-and-white photograph of that object, and a dictionary definition of the same object (or, in the case of the clock, three definitions, one for each facet of a clock that the artist considered salient: ‘time’, ‘machination’, and ‘object’).

Let’s do this one thing at a time — we’ll tackle the interplay between the object and the B&W snapshots first. Hunt for striking differences between them. The first thing that stands out is the color — the objects themselves aren’t very vibrant to begin with, defined by shades of tan, brown, and gray, but the photographs appear even more dreary and washed out. Also, consider that the photos can only serve the purpose of communication. They have no other utility, while each of the objects themselves has an actual, everyday use. By looking at a photo of a lamp, you can understand what the lamp looks like, but you can’t use its light to read a book; similarly, you can’t tell the time from a photo of a clock, or sit on a photo of a chair. I mean, you could, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable or provide adequate back support.

Next, the definitions: notice how, unlike the photographs, they bear no physical resemblance to the objects. They fulfil a similar role as the photographs — to communicate something about the object — but instead of conveying the physiology of the chair or the lamp, the definitions outline the uses and other meanings of the objects (the chair, for instance, is cited as ‘a seat with a back, and often arms, usually for one person’ and ‘a seat of office or authority, or the office itself’). The definitions for the clock are a little different — rather than defining the clock itself, Kosuth chose to define aspects of the clock that give it meaning. ‘Time’ is what the clock tells you, ‘machination’ is the mechanical aspect of it, the gears, cogs, and inner workings that make it tick (heehee pun intended), and ‘object’ is what a clock is most of the time, when no one’s looking at it — just another object hanging on the wall. There is a significant limitation of these definitions, though: language. The only way for the definitions to make sense is if the viewer understands the language they’re written in, which is not a limitation of the photos, as visuals can be understood by anyone who can see. The photos, then, provide an accessible overview of their subject, and the descriptions supply a deeper but less accessible look at their subjects’ purpose.

So now, the usual question: what is all of this trying to say? When you put everything together, a message emerges: something is lost every time an object is translated into simpler terms. In the case of the chair, you can’t actually sit on the photo or the dictionary definition; in the case of the lamp, neither the photo nor the definition provides light, and in the case of the clock, none of the translated facets — ‘time’, ‘machination’, or ‘object’ — can actually tell you when math class is finally going to end.

In each translation, something is lost, something is absent, so that even if all the translated pieces are put together, even if you absorb the photos and the definitions in the span of the same moment, you still won’t arrive at the truth of what the object is. There is always some crucial bit missing — either the ability to sit, or the ability to illuminate, or the ability to tell time. Kosuth’s installations strain to convey a very simple, but important, message: the terms on which humans understand the world are inherently reductionist, and always smudge the truth in some capacity, incapable as they are of capturing the full truth of their subjects.

That’s my take. Got one of your own? Haha, gotcha, trick question; by even considering the art piece, your fabulous brain has formulated a take of its own volition. Put it up, I’d love to see it.

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...and art for all

Art is so sensorially delicious. If only we could eat it (this message does not apply to Maurizio Cattelan or his banana).