Consider The Neon
Recently I went to a temporary neon exhibition called “She Bends” presenting a modern female take on neon art. Same topics I see every day in news — politics, feminism, sex, jokes, depression — looked at me from all the walls, filling the space with cold and bright neon light. It was my first experience with neon and it was surprisingly better than I expected. It made me wonder: what else exists in the neon art world? As art material neon was somehow questionable for me — yes, it’s glowing, it feels modern and retro in the same time, it makes any text look more meaningful but can it be various enough to allow people to express their own style?
First neon signs appeared in 1910. Industry world immediately recognized their huge marketing potential so neon signs were everywhere until 1962 when significantly cheaper LED came to the scene. But instead of facing slow and silent death, neon became art.
One of the most famous artists working with neon was Dan Flavin. Minimalist and abstractionist, he worked almost only with straight lines. He strongly believed that light, color and shape are self-sufficient in their pureness and don’t need any meaning or symbolism. His works have clear industrial feeling and they actively use the space surrounding them. Walls and corners become essential parts of the artwork. Dan Flavin often worked for specific sites, and due to the complete absence of any meaning or philosophy in his creations these sites tended to be quite diverse, including Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York, Hamburger Bahnhof in Berlin and Santa Maria Annunciata in Chiesa Rossa church in Milan.
Chile-born artist Iván Navarro also prefers minimalism but being distant and abstract isn’t something he can afford. The dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet left a heavy impression on him and naturally, politics and fear became the main theme of his works. Probably the strongest is “You sit, you die” — a neon lounge chair with names of people executed by electric chair written on it. The construction is extremely fragile — sit on it and it’ll almost certainly break and seriously injure you. Despite their decorative look, almost all his works have dark references: “Nowhere man” series recreates Otl Aichers 1972 Munich Olympics designs, the Olympics which were supposed to celebrate the world togetherness but instead became home for Munich massacre; a neon furniture-like sculpture of kneeling person “Victor” is dedicated to Chilian political activist Victor Jara, and the dark infinite tunnels filled with disturbing words don’t really need an explanation: horror repeats and we’re falling into hopeless darkness.
Absolutely different take on neon has Jung Lee, young South Korean artist. Peaceful messages, scraps of thoughts, personal but not too revealing words are put in untouched nature, probably the least expected place for neon. The effect of intimacy is even more intense since we only see the pictures of these compositions, we’re not allowed to get inside and become a part of them. The scenes look impossible and yet harmonious. For once neon comes as subtle and delicate, it stops existing on its own, instead, it starts mixing with the landscape in order to create a new magical story.
The intimacy of Tracey Emin is different. It’s unapologetically shamelessly loud and chaotic. It may look unfinished but it leaves no doubts. Tracey Emin, contemporary and controversial British, could never limit herself with just one material, she created sculptures, paintings, films and whatnot, and that makes her a perfect case to see how the same style, same personality and ideas are reflected through very different mediums — including neon of course. Also, in the early 90s, she found a completely new way to add authenticity to neon: she started creating simple neon texts about herself with neon tubes bent to mimic her own handwriting style. It might seem not a big deal now but back then, when everybody used neutral fonts, it was a real breakthrough.
There are others, of course: intentionally vulgar works of Bruce Nauman, complicated symbolic by Chryssa, surreal spaces by Lucio Fontana, post-minimalism by Keith Sonnier. The list continues as once again I have to admit that it’s not the material that creates limits, it’s our minds. And if you have something to say, something really important, then maybe the uncompromising eye-catchingness of neon is exactly what you need.
