Studio Visit:
Frank Stella
Rock Tavern, New York
“What you see is what you see”
The freezing air hits me like a slap in the face. The thin polar fleece I have on under my coat feels much too thin. The cold penetrates my bones. When I see Erik looking toasty warm in his skiing jacket I curse my stupidity at leaving mine at home.
Nothing feels colder than a freezing morning in New York.
We stand on the platform waiting for the train to take us out of Grand Central and the pounding heart of the city. Soon we are rolling north through bleak suburbs marked by broken windows and sad graffiti. But soon the landscape changes. Lakes spread out before us, hills rise up in the distance and the snow enfolds us.
We gradually relax and our exchanges shift from excited to reflective. The train takes no notice of our moods. It chugs along towards our very own Hogwarts, the city of Beacon, NY. There is a shiny black Audi waiting for us at the station, a sharp-edged stranger among all the worn pick-ups and large sedans.
The driver is a silent sort, a discreet servant who has seen far too many of us. The car speeds us through the drowsy streets and out into the country. We pull up in front of a rusty hangar big enough to house a jumbo jet. Our welcome seems just as chilly as the day itself. Dark shadows embrace us and a gigantic sculpturehovers threateningly above our heads.
The first thing that meets my gaze as we enter the hangar is a shiny red F1 racing car. I find myself drawn towards it as though by an invisible magnet. I read the name. Michael Schumacher. He gave it to him, someone explains.
There are signs that we are now in the presence of one of the real greats of our age. There is a model of a sculpture, realized in full scale in Bilbao. Sketches of works at MoMA where he was the youngest artist ever to hold a retrospective. And the racing car. Who would be presented with a car worth a million dollars or more by the greatest F1 driver of all time?
“Everyone wants to talk to him but no one dares to say anything.”
The works of art appear before us like giant ufos each competing for my undivided attention. Some of them invitingly soft and curvaceous, some of them hostile, searing, with sharp steel tails. I stop at each work of art. I can’t get enough. I soak up the art like a child consuming an ice cream. I know nothing about art. I don’t understand it at all. But here I am, immersed in the art, absorbing every detail. It speaks so directly that time seems to stand still. “What you see is what you see”, as the artist himself has claimed.
Suddenly Frank Stella is in our midst. Wearing bulky pants, a worn top and a cap. Just as unassertive as his art is explosive. His fingers are busy with a cigar butt which turns out to be a constant companion. They are all over the place. Initially, no one dares to approach the slight figure, the focus of the party. Like Jay Gatsby he is at ease in a setting in which he is the creator of every last detail. Where everyone wants to talk to him but no one dares to say anything.
Finally Simone from the gallery breaks the ice. Stella replies politely, though not ingratiatingly. There is a brutally large work of art in which every surface has been painted. Stella explains that painting the outside took a group of students a whole summer. ‘Next summer they were doing the inside too’, he jests. An assistant, whose main function seems to be bending steel tubing, comes and shows him something. Stella hums, pointing to a bend there and an angle here. The assistant nods and reverentially retreats from the presence. Stella puffs at yet another cigar.
We leave him at rest on a recliner, immersed in his own thoughts. A spiral of tobacco smoke rises towards the heavens. As our steps die away I sense a twisted smile in his wrinkled face. The invaders have been repulsed.
Text: Claes Kjellström
Photo: Patrik Sehlstedt
Idea & Production: Le Bureau
© Wetterling Gallery
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About It’s mine
It is in the meeting of minds that art becomes important. These narratives are about initial meetings. About desire, passion, acquisitiveness. About the relationship between works of art and their owners.
It’s mine is a book that features encounters with 33 art collectors and artists who have opened their homes and their heart for us.
To get a copy of the book, contact info@wetterlinggallery.com.
