Exhibition Review: Wolfgang Tillmans
Written by Emily Capone
Edited by Ben Blavat
Often seen as a contrarian in the world of art, Wolfgang Tillmans displays the arbitrary details of everyday life through his most recent work in Concrete Column. Tillmans chooses to present his work in undiluted snapshots — moments in time that seem disconnected.
While Tillmans often challenges the status quo of art, Concrete Column may echo what the rest of the world is thinking. The exhibition features a conglomerate of human-made and naturally occurring elements captured in a snapshot of time through the camera lens. I was attracted to Concrete Column III, in which consistency is questioned. Concrete is made in ratios: sand, crushed rock, cement, water. Perfection is required to pour this mixture over a rebar grid. The process is an art itself, really — a mason finisher will show you just how difficult the job truly is. The wet mixture is constantly blending, the pour is quick, and the layers are consistently smoothened as more is added on top. Tillmans offers a window into the process so that we may observe the precision required to control these elements.
Contrasting the man-made concrete are naturally occurring elements: perfect, raw, and extraterrestrial in nature. A prime example is the fantastical beauty in Tillmans’ in-flight Aurora Borealis. A psychedelic lightshow of color randomly cuts the sky in half, spurred by solar wind penetrating Earth’s magnetic shield. And then there’s the random, weathered rock sitting in the sand in Geos 2. Broken down by decades of saltwater, air and sunlight, it remains a testament to years of heating, cooling and erosion. A natural beauty that we humans continuously attempt to replicate.
Along with the images of natural perfection and human-made imitation, Tillmans experiments with the use of music and how it influences — dominates, even — our understanding of photography and imagery. His debut album, Moon in Earthlight, can be heard in a room separate from the garish, white walls on which each image is presented. Within this one room, guests are immersed into a club-like atmosphere. The sounds of oddly syncopated rhythms pulsate throughout each track, tipping the balance of harmonies with the sound of rain falling in gutters or windchimes banging against each other. A deep dive into Bowie-esque voice-overs, ’80s nightlife and synthesized beats, the album works within the exhibition to present sounds of life that are unchanging, as well as the sounds of what we hope life will be like after the pandemic.
“I feel out of practice in terms of moving among people without fear, the way you bump into each other and rub shoulders,” Tillmans said in a recent interview with the Guardian. “Let’s hope we get on a dancefloor soon.”
Like Tillmans, I think each of us can understand this fear. The fear of being out of practice as humans, as the natural order around us has become otherworldly. Tillmans’ songs “Can’t Escape to Space” and “Late for The Webinar,” while comical, bring to light the extremely honest fears that we have. Are we becoming too separated in this digitized era? Or are we simply learning how to disassociate while remaining connected? Maybe Tillmans simply sees us for what we are becoming: a newly formed conglomerate that is heating, cooling and eroding into a society of the post-pandemic age. And while it isn’t the random perfection of nature or the human-made perfection of the mason, it shouldn’t be ignored.
Concrete Column is on view at Regen Projects in Los Angeles from Nov. 6 through Dec. 23. Check out our review of Saturated Light to read more about Tillmans’ photography.