“Torno Subito” - “Be Back Soon” - was written on a sign on the door of an empty Italian gallery in 1989. Hung there by Maurizio Cattelan, the subject of the planned exhibition who had failed to produce work for display, it was an early indication of the mixture of audacity, humour and controversy that has characterised the career of the artist.
The small sign is now placed, virtually indistinguishable, around the neck of a stuffed golden retriever, which is part of Maurizio Cattelan: All, the Solomon R. Guggenheim museum’s retrospective of the artist that runs until January 22 in New York. Featuring some 128 works from Cattelan’s career, the exhibition is heralded as the final show before the artist’s retirement.
Suspended from metal beams in a colossal column down the atrium of Frank Lloyd Wright’s extraordinary building, this impressive body of work encapsulates Cattelan’s contradictory position in the art world. As the curators of the show Nancy Spector and Katherine Brinson, both of the Guggenheim, state: “Hailed simultaneously as a provocateur, prankster and tragic poet of our times, Maurizio Cattelan has created some of the most unforgettable images in recent contemporary art.”
He has certainly produced some of the most controversial. Perhaps most famous is Untitled of 2004, which consisted of realistic figures of three small boys hanging by the neck from trees in Milan’s Piazza XXIV Maggio. It provoked a storm of protest, inducing one member of the public to attempt to cut the ‘bodies’ down, injuring himself in the process.
Similarly controversial was La Nona Ora of 1999, which showed a life size wax figure of Pope John Paul II struck down by a meteorite and was vandalised by a scandalised Polish member of the European Parliament when displayed in John Paul’s homeland. The list of works that have elicited strong reactions is long: Him, a child-like figure of Hitler kneeling in supplication from 2001; Daddy, Daddy from 2008, Disney’s Pinocchio floating face down in a pool at the Guggenheim; 2000’s Not Afraid of Love, a shrouded sculpture of an elephant suggesting both Halloween and the Klu Klux Klan; two hanging horses from 1996 and 1997 entitled The Ballad of Trotsky and Novocento respectively; L.O.V.E., a 36ft-high white marble middle finger, which until September last was directed straight at Milan’s Stock Exchange.
Hailed simultaneously as a provocateur, prankster and tragic poet of our times, he has created some of the most unforgettable images in recent contemporary art
The critical reception of his work is equally mixed. To some he is simply purveying “inside jokes” and “fey tropes”, as Charlie Finch, co-author of Most Art Sucks, wrote of the Guggenheim show on artnet. com. Others see the humour as an important part of his work. His Milan gallerist Massimo De Carlo says: “I think of Maurizio as the new Buster Keaton, a funny man with a keen sense of tragedy.” While Emmanuel Perrotin, who represents the artist in Pairs, told the same journalist from The Art Newspaper: “Although humour permeates his work, it shouldn’t be regarded as the main idea. His work exposes our own angst and fear of dying. It is not trying to demolish anything.” Cattelan himself, who is elusive when questioned about his role, joked with The Wall Street Journal: ”Firstly I don’t see myself as a prankster. I see myself as deadly serious and boring.”
While public reaction has been divided, commercial success has been consistent. Him is rumoured to have changed hands privately for $10 million last year, while the record for his work at auction – currently $7.9 million for Cattelan’s cartoon like sculpture of his own head peering through a gallery floor that sold at Sotheby’s in 2010 – will undoubtedly continue to be reset. Collectors certainly see his importance. François Pinault, for example, whose Venice museum at the Punta della Dogana is currently showing works by the artist from his collection, has said: “I consider Cattelan to be one of the best artists of our time. He has a rare talent for channelling contemporary life, often with a devastating sense of humour, but always with skill and intelligence.”
The artist’s own reaction to the market is perhaps more ambivalent. In 2009 he said to Interview magazine: “I think it’s time to get over auction houses, galleries and high production value exhibitions, and start using our voices again.” And he has challenged the market through projects such as the non-commercial and now closed Wrong Gallery, a tiny space in New York that actually never opened. Cattelan explains the name: “We loved the idea of people saying ‘It’s a great show, but it’s in the Wrong Gallery’.” Characteristically, it ended up being lauded by the art world and even transferred to Tate Modern.
Cattelan’s career then would seem to preclude the idea of retirement, or at least to suggest it may simply be another project, another prank. All is certainly not the average retrospective, working almost as an art installation in its own right, as the curators say: “The exhibition is an exercise in disrespect: the artist has hung up his work like laundry to dry.” No doubt his retirement will similarly challenge convention. Although Cattelan has said: “This will be my first and last retrospective… I will just pretend I am dead”, he is also enthusiastic and active in other projects, such as Toilet Paper, a magazine collaboration with photographer Pierpaolo Ferrari.
It may be that the art world has begun to limit his ambitions or expect the unexpected? As early as 2004 he commented: “Hunting for freedom, I’ve found a real prison, but at least it’s a prison I have chosen for myself.” Days after the opening of the Guggenheim show, Cattelan spoke to Sarah Thornton, author of the best selling Seven Days in the Art World, writing for The Economist. He was at once obfuscatory and excited: “Being an artist is a role game. You can play whatever role you want because you are the one writing the rules. Retirement opens the game again. It can mean anything these days. It is a magic word that gives you freedom.” It must also be the freedom to change your mind?
