Bruce Nauman's Human Nature/Knows Doesn 't Know (1983/1986) at Tate Modern Photo: D. Palmer

‘What I am really concerned about is what art is supposed to be - and can become.’
Bruce Nauman

I recently visited a fine retrospective of the work of artist Bruce Nauman (Tate Modern, London, until 21 February).

Nauman was born in Fort Wayne, Indiana in 1941, the son of an engineer at General Electric. He studied mathematics and physics at the University of Wisconsin, and art at the University of California. He went on to set up studios in Northern California and then Pasadena, before settling in New Mexico in 1979. His work covers a broad range of media: sculpture, photography, neon, video, drawing, printmaking and performance.

Nauman films himself stepping carefully through a narrow corridor, walking around the perimeter of a square ‘in an exaggerated manner’, falling backwards onto a corner wall. He films his studio at night when he’s not there.

Nauman records a scream, puts it on a reel-to-reel tape machine and covers it in a concrete block. He makes a cast of the space underneath his chair. He pinches his flesh as if curious about its material properties.

‘You may not want to be here.’

Nauman plays a violin tuned to the notes D, E, A and D. He washes his hands vigorously and repeatedly at a studio sink. A cup of coffee tumbles and spills, over and over again. Neon instructions flash on and off:

‘Laugh and Die, Play and Live, Speak and Live, Play and Die, Feel and Die, Sleep and Live.’

he True Artist Helps the World by Revealing Mystic Truths (Window or Wall Sign) 1967 Kunstmuseum Basel (Basel, Switzwerland) — *he True Artist Helps the World by Revealing Mystic Truths (Window or Wall Sign)* 1967 Kunstmuseum Basel (Basel, Switzwerland)

Nauman’s world is disturbing and disorientating. Our anxiety is enhanced by the murmur of projectors; by the hum of neon and amplified footfalls; by distant yelling and screaming clowns.

On a collection of monitors the same bald disembodied head rotates while shouting aggressively:

‘Feed me, Eat me, Help me, Hurt me.’

Nauman seems to be concerned with the big questions: with truth and lies, agency and chance, life and death. He wants to rouse us from our stupor; to shake us from our habituated norms.

‘You have to kind of not watch anything, so you can be aware of everything.'

Nauman returns repeatedly to the theme of children’s games. We are invited to consider card tricks, balloon dogs, hangman and musical chairs.

Bruce Nauman (October 7, 2020-February 21, 2021) at Tate Modern, London: installation view featuring “Anthro/Socio (Rinde Spinning)” (1992); (photo: Tate Photography (Matt Greenwood); artwork © Bruce Nauman / ARS, NY and DACS, London 2020) — *Bruce Nauman* (October 7, 2020-February 21, 2021) at Tate Modern, London: installation view featuring “Anthro/Socio (Rinde Spinning)” (1992); (photo: Tate Photography (Matt Greenwood); artwork © Bruce Nauman / ARS, NY and DACS, London 2020)

‘Somebody is always left out. The first one to be excluded always feels terrible. That kid doesn’t get to play anymore, has nothing to do, has to stand in the corner.’

Nauman seems to be asking: Is there some secret in the inherent cruelty of these games; in the unfairness, the deception, the repetition? Isn’t this what life’s about?

'My work is basically an outgrowth of the anger I feel about the human condition. The aspects of it that make me angry are our capacity for cruelty and the ability people have to ignore situations they don't like.’

We are being watched by a camera as we walk along a wall. As we turn the corner we catch a glimpse of ourselves on a monitor. And then we are gone. There’s a wire mesh cage with a narrow claustrophobic corridor. Do we want to go in? A woman takes instructions from an unseen man.

'Sit down, lie down, roll over, play dead, sit up, stand up.’

This is a dark, dystopian place of concrete and cages; of surveillance cameras and flickering screens; of brash neon signs and black marble blocks illuminated by sodium light. It suggests themes of disorientation and disempowerment. It prompts paranoia.

‘Learn to recognise when you need to know something.'

I left the exhibition in awe of the diversity of Nauman’s thoughts and provocations. He refuses to be constrained by conventional subjects, materials and practice. He continually explores what an artist and artwork can be.

I was particularly struck by Nauman’s description of his evolving relationship with his craft.

'When I was in art school, I thought art was something I would learn how to do, and then I would just do it. At a certain point I realized that it wasn't going to work like that. Basically, I would have to start over every day and figure out what art was going to be.’

Nauman gives a compelling definition of the relationship between art and the artist.

‘If I was an artist and I was in the studio, then whatever I was doing must be art. At this point art became more of an activity and less of a product.’

I wonder, can we learn something here about Planners and Planning?

Still from 'Clown Torture', 1987, by Bruce Nauman. https://theartsdesk.com

In the early years of my career I spent a good deal of time in search of the definitive course, the critical text, the rules and regulations that would qualify me as a Planner. I wanted to learn how to do it.

I was troubled by imposter syndrome. I had arrived in the trade in a roundabout way, via Market Research. I lacked the classical BMP education and I doubted that I had all the skills, talents or accomplishments of a Proper Planner. It said Planner on my business card, but was that justified? I anticipated that ultimately I would be exposed as a fraud.

I’m not sure I ever got the education I was craving. I doubt it ever existed. Indeed, when I reflect on what we did as a Planning community at BBH over those years, there comes to mind a vast disordered array of methods, styles and approaches to our quest for understanding.

We interviewed semioticians and psychologists, ecologists and economists, fashionistas and futurists. We sought to comprehend the pioneer spirit, the colour yellow, the meaning of play. We researched in nightclubs and briefed in safari parks. We visited archives, farms and factories. We observed people in shops and doing the laundry, went on roadtrips and barhops. We examined changing definitions of human progress and female heroism, the language of cool and the craft of choreography. We conducted blind taste and deprivation tests. We watched parents watching their children, and asked children to draw their parents. We commissioned statistical models, regression analyses and price elasticity studies. We created brand planets and media ecosystems, mood edits and manifestos. We drew pyramids, conveyor belts and stadium charts. We rebranded milk and redesigned jeans. We constructed a teenager’s bedroom.

To be fair, while some of these exercises were illuminating and fruitful, others were illusory and futile. But all were embarked upon in earnest endeavour; with a curiosity to find fresh perspectives and compelling answers.

Planning is a discipline that is constantly seeking to define itself; endlessly striving to delineate and circumscribe, to classify and set limits.

Nauman prompts us to be more liberal in our understanding of our trade. Planning is an activity, not a product. It is not something we learn how to do. Planning is what a Planner does. And we should start every day trying to figure out what that can be.

Nauman’s preoccupations are perhaps best summed up in his piece ‘Clown Torture.’ The artist examines the jester’s obligation to perform; his or her determination to obscure their true self. He is drawn to the fears of a clown.

A clown repeatedly enters a room and a bucket of water comes crashing down on top of him. A clown jumps up and down screaming. A clown sits on the toilet reading a magazine. A clown recites a nursery rhyme.

'Pete and Repeat were sitting on a fence. Pete fell off. Who was left? Repeat.’

'Now if there's a smile on my face,
It's only there trying to fool the public.
But when it comes down to fooling you
Now, honey, that's quite a different subject.
But don't let my glad expression
Give you the wrong impression.
Really I'm sad.
Oh I'm sadder than sad.
You're gone, and I'm hurtin' so bad.
Like a clown, I pretend to be glad.
Now there's some sad things known to man,
But ain't too much sadder than the tears of a clown,
When there's no one around.’

Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, ’The Tears of a Clown’ (H Cosby, S Robinson, S Wonder)

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year and an improving 2021.
Look after yourselves.

No. 312