jean tinguely: one of us
Jean Tinguely
Do you ever wonder what artists were like when they were young; when they were a mere five paintbrushes high? I had a visit to Tate Liverpool this past week, where an exhibit for Jean Tinguely had been in place for a few months. Tinguely is the perfect artist for men, or as women would say, for boys. In the 1940s and 50s, Tinguely constructed kinetic sculptures made from bits of metal, electric motors, and some cardboard. His machines revolved, turned, pivoted, spun, rolled, drew, and even painted, for no other reason than just to move or make marks. Tinguely was young at heart, and interested in amusing himself first. His concepts had no other purpose, no bigger reason, than just to exist. In a 1960’s filming of the construction of one of his mechanized events, a television interviewer asked him what he was trying to express. Tinguely refused to be caught up in meaning, and said he did it only to express himself. More artists should be so forthright about the real purpose of their work. If nothing else, it keeps the curator-speak at bay.
Although difficult to prove, I can imagine Jean Tinguely must have spent tireless hours constructing robotic mechanisms from Meccano (Erector Set in America). Mecanno was invented in Liverpool during Victorian times, and the city is also the site of a recent James May video which documented the making of a Meccano-built bridge over a canal. The historical centre of the universe for mechanized rigs seems to be focussed at Liverpool’s Albert Dock these days.
The mechanized artist for the 1950's
Most of the Tinguely’s machines at Tate Liverpool couldn’t be turned on, which was a great shame. Restoration goes on for a great many oil-based masterpieces; why can’t someone replace a motor, or strengthen a steel joint? Still, if you have an active imagination, the guts of the machines are visible enough for recreating the motion in your head. Which is exactly what I did, and enjoyed the show produced in the theatre of my mind. Those pieces that did work reminded me of watching a factory; like one of those industrial films where cars are snapped together on assembly lines. This was the real stuff of boys.
Supposedly Tinguely built his mechanisms with the possibility that part of it might not work as predicted. This bit of predisposed, random chance provided the machine with its own unsupervised form of life, eliminating the artist to at least some extent. Tinguely didn’t mind this, and in fact knew it would upset the hierarchy in art-dom at the time (1950s). In this way, he’s the Everyman’s hero.
a mechanized artist - one that can swim
Expressing himself was Tinguely’s main concern, which, in many respects, is what we humans do every day. For me, Tinguely formalized what art is all about. It’s something that any one of us does, nearly every day of the week. If anyone asks what you do for a living, you could always say you’re an artist, and you wouldn’t be lying.