Tired from NYC, thinking of coming back to Israel and is even is considering doing a talk show (well maybe a career as a hairdresser)
Miriam Cabessa is completing a circle. Ten years ago, when she was twenty nine years old, she became the first winner of the 1995 Nathan Gottesdiener Foundation prize for Israeli art, and had her very first solo exhibition in the Tel Aviv museum one year later.
That was the beginning of what at least looked like the birth of an exceptionally successful art career, which was likely to even go international. No one in the Israeli art scene was surprised therefore, when two years later Cabessa was chosen to represent Israel at the 1997 Venice Bienale, and that in 1999 she spread her wings and flew west of her safe Tel Avivi nest, with an ambitious determination to conquer the art scene of the Big Apple; she was also more than sufficiently equipped for her voyage, armed with a thick resume of twenty five art shows - within which twelve solo exhibitions - both in Israel and Europe.
Today she is coming back to Israel - at least in spirit - to participate in the celebrated group show, Dreaming Art - Dreaming Reality, which marks the first ten year decade of the Gottesdiener award. The show, which had its grand opening at the Tel Aviv Museum a few weeks ago, includes, in addition to Cabessa, the nine other winners of the years which followed her initiation of the prize.
In 2003 I had my first personal acquaintance with Cabessa the person, when we had a few unusually unconventional and fascinating one-on-one sessions, as part of the research I was then preparing for an article I later wrote about her recent solo show at Alon Segev Gallery in Tel Aviv.
This time around, I once again quickly realized how, with her elegant signature charisma, she manipulated my failing attempts to conduct a well structured interview on the subject of her participation in the TAM exhibition and on other related issues, into a private stage for her solo show, where for the traditional interview technique of question-answer-question, there was absolutely no room left.
The “performance” she gave me on the other hand, was nevertheless intriguing, and it educated me quite a bit about her many opinions and ideas about art, New York, television, her future plans, and yes – also a little bit about her participation in Dreaming Art – Dreaming Reality.
For the show at the TAM, Cabessa has chosen to exhibit three colorful circles paintings from her solo show at Alon Segev Gallery in 2003, and in addition, a series of five video works – now presented for the first time – in which she is captured while working on other paintings in her signature style, enclosed in a typical New York space she had rented especially for this project.
The five videos, which were shot in 2004, are located on the fascinating, although flimsy line between fine art and documentation; while employing minimal editing work and a curious sound track, they visually demonstrate for the first time the intriguing “trick” behind Cabessa's famous painting technique, about which she was questioned countless times in the past.
In four out of the five videos, Cabessa's work process is shown from beginning to end – opening with the virginal bright whiteness of the canvas, and concluding with the image of the completed painting. Her exclusive working tools are her own bare palms, with an occasional use of a flatiron, a cloth rag or an old fashioned floor wiper.
Only in one video, in which the film has been reversed in order to display the painting process from the end to its very beginning, the final painting appears to be slowly reduced into nothing; blindfolded with a scarf tightly wrapped around her head, Cabessa gradually “exposes” the white canvas that's concealed beneath it, alternately using her hands and a soft lump of sponge. This is the one piece which undoubtedly escapes the question of documentation concerning the other four.
The formation process of the mysterious, hologram-like images, that appear on the surface under the sensuous movements of her hands - massaging and stroking it softly - inevitably hypnotizes the viewer, not to say – turns him on all together; the possition of her leaning body over the canvas, horizontally placed on top of a large, sturdy table, further enables the association of a love making scene between her and the painting; even when she slowly “irons”, or “cleans” the canvas with a floor wiper drenched with black paint, she still looks like the cleaning lady of love, completely infatuated with her labor.
How did it feel to have a video camera suddenly invading the privacy of your studio?
First of all, an entire staff of people was present in the studio in addition to the cameras. And it did feel quite weird at first, since I'm used to be completely by myself in the studio when I'm working. What amazed me the most though, was the unique experience of making a performance, an experience I really enjoyed because it had profoundly upgraded my level of concentration. I also realized once again how much I adore being on a stage, surrounded with cameras, and all the related stuff that goes with it.
And were you really able to detach yourself from their presence while you were working on the paintings?
Completely. Not only did I not loose my sense of self, I actually felt myself in a very intense way. Precisely because the conditions were so staged, my sense of reality became really strong. Evidently, I'm a natural TV person, because the cameras, and the spotlights, and this exciting feeling of, wow, it's about to happen right now, get the one hundred percent out of me. Another thing that really surprises me, is that I can remember every second from this whole experience; it wasn't a show, I didn't make poses and I didn't try to make it look nicer than what it actually was, you know. What you see in the films is exactly what happened in the reality of the moment; I remember my calculations when I walked around the canvas with the iron in my hand, I remember why I moved the way I did and when I switched hands, I remember the tension in my body and that I bumped into the corner of the painting by accident. I remember everything! And remembering all that is such a different feeling from all the rest of the feelings I deal with every day, there are just no words to describe it.
Do you have any thoughts about combining video with performance art in the future?
Sometimes I do, but they come and go like the tides. Besides, I don't believe that I would take the required initiation for it, because it seems that I'm not as ambitious as I may look. But if an offer comes to me – sure, I'll do it, maybe something like performing on television, which to me is an amazing format I enjoy very much.
Performing on television in what way exactly, like in a talk show?
I can definitely imagine a situation where I have my own talk show for example. To me, this is another form of art, a form of communicating with people. But then again, it will happen when it happens. I don't really know how exactly though; perhaps if I go back to Israel, maybe then it will happen.
Despite the magnetizing beauty of her works, and their emotional significance for Cabessa herself, it is difficult not to notice their troubling resemblance to the documentary films which were done in the past about artists, such as the American Jackson Pollock, or the Israeli Avigdor Aricha (although not on their own behalf). Much like Cabessa's videos, those documentaries aimed to reveal the artistic essence within the creative process itself, which, as in Cabessa's case, is not at all apparent in the final piece.
Consequently, this resemblance raises the question of what is the true essence of her videos, and if the actual documentation of her work can be considered as an art piece by itself. The “official” critics, so it seems, have given up asking these questions all together, and responded to her videos by declaring them disappointing and even boring.
When I raised the question of documentation to her, she didn't quite understood where I was getting at:
But how is it possible to differentiate between the videos themselves and what they aim to present? I can't indefinitely determine what converts them from documentation to art, because it's like asking what is art to begin with. Art, from what I learned in art history classes at Ha-Midrasha (an Israeli art college, M.G.), is defined according to context. Therefore, since I chose to refer to them as “video art” rather than “documentaries,” my very definition transforms them into what they are, art works. And what makes them art works for me? The fact that the viewer experiences something unique while watching them; a thing that physically, spiritually and mentally elevates him to a very particular place, and isn't just some extra information about “how Miriam paints.” It's an experience which upgrades the way the viewer conceives the things he sees in the video. This, for me, is an artistic achievement.
So what is, nevertheless, the meaning of the documentary element in your videos?
Documentation was actually the original incentive for the works. I wanted to display the real process of my work, and this was the most important thing for me; to show how I start and finish a painting. But in the first place, I did them mostly for myself, so I could watch what I do from the outside.
Could a secondary motivation for those videos be - especially since you chose to exhibit them for the first time in Israel rather than in New York - that you wanted to end once and for all the perpetual discussion about “Miriam Cabessa and her signature technique”?
I'm really sick of the endless dwelling in this “technique” business and its analysis, and of the attempts to reduce it to a mere artistic strategy. I think that a central element in my work, and a big part of its charm, is the fact that it's so physical, and so connected to a special kind of a physical discipline, of precision and physical devotion. To say “rags”, and to say “hands”, and to say “I move my hands in a symmetrical manner” is one thing. But when you actually see this action in your own eyes, you realize that it's much stronger and more meaningful than just talking about it as a technical thing.
In the reality of Cabessa's reputation as a controversial artistic figure there's nothing new, especially as long as the discussions around her intriguing painting technique remain central in the critics approach to her work. As with her past shows, therefore, the reactions to Cabessa's part in Dreaming Art – Dreaming Reality were varied, much like the ones which followed her presentation of the large circles paintings at Alon Segev Gallery. Nevertheless, the paintings she selected for the current show in the TAM were taken from that particular exhibition. But surprisingly, and unlike every expectation, the number of responses made by the critics to the show in general, and to Cabessa's part in particular, was noticeably small; this was a significant shift from Cabessa's past popularity, when she reigned the cheering Israeli art scene as the center of attention.
"Look,” she says, “from my experience in Israel I have my group of lovers and my group of haters, each with their own personal reasons. So if some people choose not to like me, I won't start persuading them to change their minds. I too don't like everyone, but I do have respect for my haters; they can hate me if they wish, and I'll still respect them; what else can I do? Like the criticism I got in H'aretz's art section in 2003 (by Smadar Sheffy, M.G.); every time I read a negative criticism about my work, I think about this citation – maybe you can tell me where it's from – that no matter what criticism you get in the papers, the most important thing is that your name is spelled right!” she laughs. “Even critics who write all the time, sometimes forget the basic fact that they're just human beings like the rest of us, limited by their own perception. And they need to be reminded that... well, forget it. I won't start giving a lecture for critics about proper writing. But it is an interesting field, criticism; it has an amazing ability to either let someone grow from it, or to just walk all over him and crash him completely. But to walk all over someone – how exactly is it interesting, not to mention challenging? Show me one person who's better than me, or that I'm better than him.
Have you ever had an experience where you felt in any way benefited by a negative criticism that was written about your work?
Never. To me, these types of critics always seem like a display of superficial and narrow-minded pettiness; something vindictive and full of venom. It also shows disrespect for a person – an artist - who works, and creates, and sweats blood. I'm not so sure even, that the readers actually enjoy negative critics like these, or that anyone enjoys it for that matter, besides the one who sits and bangs the keyboard when he writes down his poison.
So if we're already discussing negative criticism, how come you decided to exhibit the circles painting in the TAM show, which were already exhibited two years ago at Alon Segev Gallery, and didn't exactly make the critics go wild?
It was mostly Allan Ginton's decision (the curator of the current show at the TAM, M.G.). She was the one who selected the paintings from the series at Alon's.
Did she at all suggest, or ask you to send her some recent paintings from New York, or was this idea never mentioned?
There were many options, but I tended to think that after all Allan's idea was good. After all, these paintings were exhibited only once in Israel a year and a half ago, and in addition, I also thought that it could be more interesting not to display the paintings which were shown in the videos; it keeps an element of mystery about how the circles painting were made, since they look so different from the ones in the videos. I didn't want to be too deductive in the sense of, here are the paintings and here are the matching videos.
Didn't you consider the possibility that, at least for the audience, it could be no less interesting to view the paintings from the videos instead the ones from the already familiar ones?
This is what happened, you know. It wasn't like there were really profound considerations behind that decision, to be honest. We mostly considered the issue of the geographical distance, and what's more, I wasn't very inclined to send paintings to Israel from New York because of the hassles of transportation and insurance, and all the other stuff. My considerations were more practical than anything else. And besides, with these video works – which were done more than a year ago – I waited for an especially good opportunity to exhibit them for the first time, and I didn't find a better opportunity to do it than at the TAM. In the last solo show I had in New York (at the Moti Hasson Gallery, M.G.) I didn't even begin to consider showing something like this, so exposing and revealing, in a place that doesn't even know me. First you should get to know my work, and only then I'll disclose myself to you.
This wasn't the first time during the process of our non conventional interview, that Cabessa mentioned her feelings of alienation from New York in general, and from the New Yorkers in particular, nor the detestation she developed toward the art which overflows the galleries in the trendy Chelsea district. I therefore tried to inquire, what was she still doing in New York, and if the fact that she's still here has anything to do with some last attempts to finally materialize the original dream, which pushed her to pack her suitcases in 99'.
The thing that stimulates me artistically in living in New York is my loneliness, the fact that I'm completely displaced, that I'm actually nothing but a tourist here. But at the same time, the art scene and the audience here, the Americans in general, don't really interest me that much. On the contrary, I think that the real stimulation between myself and the place I'm at, becomes the most intensive when I'm in Israel, because the Israeli audience is alive, it's not the dead audience that I see in New York. And it's also because the fact that I really know the Israeli audience, I care about it and I appreciate it.
Why do you feel that you don't know or care about the audience in New York? After all, you have been living here for over six years,
Because to me it's still anonymous. I don't believe it, and I have no connection to it.
And how do you believe this situation you describe came about?
I don't know, maybe because I see many things here that don't speak to me. Maybe it's because of the American television, or the American culture, and I begin to realize that it's something with a very particular nature to which I'm less related, which seems to me terribly superficial. I live in Chelsea, go to galleries five times a week, and see “good” exhibitions ten times a week. OK, there is some good stuff too – I don't claim there isn't, but all in all, in relation to the huge amount of galleries here, there is still very little of what I would consider as good art. In Israel, despite the small number of artists in comparison to New York, the number of good artists is sky-high.
But even so, why do you feel that most of the art that you see in New York is not sufficiently good, or interesting enough?
Look, since art is my occupation after all, it is only natural that I have a very critical approach to it; but in a second thought... forget it; not so much critical as certainly sensitive. What interests me in a painting is that special essence which somehow elevates the viewer to a mysterious place, to a place beyond; an entity, which uses the painting as means to communicate something. A lot of people adore landscape paintings for example; aware of the growing demand, many artists would start producing landscape painting. Maybe some of them really loves painting landscapes, but surely all the rest would produce this type of paintings solely as a materialistic commercial strategy. To me, a painting simply has to be interesting, nothing else would do; and if on top of everything it also creates some sort of a shuddering experience for the viewer – than as far as I'm concerned, this painting immediately enters the realm of what I personally consider as good art.
So the art you see in New York doesn't give you the shudders at all?
Not only I don't get the shudders from it, it usually leaves me completely indifferent, to the point were I can barely manage to keep my eyes opened. Lets just say, that New York mainly exposed me to the tactical and business-like aspects of the American art world, and also to its not so logical side. But then, there isn't any logic in the art world to begin with.
Only in New York, or in general?
I ment in general. Things happen in the American art world, that you can't tell which direction they're taking, or what will happen tomorrow, and there are the endlessly changing fashions, and all kinds of stuff going on. But it very well may be, that the realization of this managed to remove a few extra layers off my back.
What do you mean by “extra layers”?
Look, when I first arrived to New York six years ago, I believed that success was the most important thing, and that I was on my way to conquer New York, which radiated success and abundance, not to mention endless opportunities; you know the slogan, “America, the Land of Endless Opportunities”. What was afterwards discovered hiding behind this beautiful façade, was the American Department of Immigration. So today, that ambitious nonsense doesn't interest me as much; I know that my personal growth is not dependent on if I'll have a fancy catalog in the library, or if I'll have a show at the MoMA. Much more important is to which real places in life I will arrive, what I will be able to transfer with my art in a better way, and how do I improve myself personally.
But one also needs to have some money too, to be able to make a living by doing his thing,
Of course, one also has to be realistic. Next month I'll be thirty nine years old, and I have to start thinking about my nearing old age. I obviously can't continue to depend on my luck, or on certain situations I took advantage of in the past, it would be disrespectful – and I did always have a lot of luck; I could find myself in a situation where I only had $80 left in my bank account two days exactly before my rent is due, and suddenly someone would come down to my studio and would write me a fat check for some painting, which would keep me going for the next two months. That's why I must become more responsible, and to supply myself with a steadier source of income. In Israel I had my teaching position at the Ha-Midrasha, which was as intriguing as the art making itself.
But when an artist works with a successful gallery, like in Chelsea for example, his income becomes more or less stable as well, no?
Look, art is a very uncertain area. I can sell, and I can also not sell, especially if I'm not the most initiative person. Right now I'm working with Moti Hasson Gallery, and indeed it's the gallery's job to provide me with a reasonable income.
Although she confessed her longings to Israel, it didn't seem that Cabessa had any specific plans to leave New York once and for all, or more in general – to pursue the development of her artistic career. Many words were thrown in the air, but according to her, they were no more than just premature contemplations. It seems that as always, she tends to act upon the momentary flare-ups of her artistic charisma, like the poetic matches of Hanna Senesh.
So do you have any thoughts about moving back to Israel?
I do. Lets just say that I'm giving myself a few more months to think it through. I more and more come to realize that in terms of an audience, or what goes on here in general, New York is really not it for me.
Is there a gallery that you're currently involved with in Israel?
I used to work with Alon Segev, but I don't know were our relationship stands at the moment. It appears to be quite ambiguous, doesn't really show any vital signs.
So how do you see the future of your career in Israel, if indeed you decide to move back there?
Look, people have careers in Israel, I had a career in Israel, Israel is a big place in that sense. I don't see it as retreating, like a rerun of the Miriam-Cabessa-in-Israel scene, only now trying to relive her past. I can easily imagine that in Israel I would do what in the past I haven't considered doing, you know, like what I mentioned earlier about my fantasy to enter the field of television, or communication in general, which has nothing to do with visual art. I also have thoughts about becoming a hair dresser, because I really enjoy doing haircuts,
I remember that you once told me about this hobby of yours. So do you still pructice it?
I do people's hair all the time and I just love it. I'm especially good with short hair. But in general, I think that there's something truly important in coming to realize the different things you like doing, or the things you want and capable of doing, and I definitely look at it as something completely legitimate. Perhaps this is another thing I learned in New York.
And if you indeed decide to try moving back to Israel, do you believe that the people will take you back with opened arms?
I believe they will, why not. After all, whenever I come to Israel for a visit, I feel like I'm recharging my batteries with love. Even from just people on the street; since as you know, in Israel I'm in a situation where I'm known to be active both in the media and in the art scenes, so it's like I've got this unique status there. But I'm still continuously amazed by the huge amounts of compliments and warmth I receive in different situations, that are not necessarily related to the art world directly.
Indeed, many writers have already declared – Maya Becker is only one of them – that “Miriam Cabessa brought Rock'n'Roll to the Israeli art scene”,
“Brought Rock'n'Roll to Israel??”
Yes, “Miriam Cabessa Rock'n'Roll,” don't you remember the article Maya Becker wrote about you after your show at Alon Segev two years ago? In that article she actually complimented the refreshing and unconventional phenomenon of your involvement with the media, which, at least according to the Israeli tradition, is considered to be very remote from the aristocratic art world.
Great, I likey!
I sincerely wish for you that Israel will embrace you again with the great love you described, and that all your hopes will materialize to your satisfaction,
We'll see, I currently still give myself some more time to be here. Don't know exactly why, there isn't anything in particular that I'm waiting for, but my gut feeling tells me that I still need to be here, at least for a while. I guess there are still a few more things left for me to do...
