Courtesy the artist

Born in 1928 in Odense––which means the artist turned 80 at some point this year––Alfred Johansen’s current whereabouts or even his possible death both remain unknown. Aside from what appears to have accumulated in rumour and myth, very little is known about the artist and the works he produced. This perhaps is bolstered by very few sources in existence, chartering––albeit minimally––the artist and his work, one of which reports that during the mid 1970s he vanished without a trace seemingly without reason. Placing more obfuscation on the understanding of the artist and further shrouding him in mystery are the works he produced during his short career, of which were only ever experienced directly by very few. His forward thinking artworks and radical gestures consisted of performances and installations that took place in darkened gallery spaces. The work included in this exhibition, Untitled (1966), for example, is, as it stands currently, the only surviving piece evidencing the actions Johansen carried out—yet it amounts to not much more than a mere trace. The piece consists of two photographs, each of which is virtually black and divested of anything visually recognisable. He instructed that all of his performances were documented but pivotally and key to his work, without the use of flash. With no way to compensate for the lack of light, Untitled (1966) appears to resemble the sprit of the performances themselves, which at the time left audiences entirely bemused and were thus understood through rumours rather than concrete facts (the same could certainly be applied to the artist’s biography). Interestingly, the speculation and vagueness of what was actually occurring during Johansen’s performances also applies when confronted with the aforementioned photographs––we are no closer to knowing what Johansen looked like nor what the performances consisted of exactly. The core of Johansen and his work is indeed a mythology and it seems that this present day curiosity to learn more and grasp a deeper understanding of both himself and his work––yet, crucially to be denied––seems to be exactly what he intended, all part of his original goal. A letter, also presented with the exhibition, may offer an insight into the reason why he stopped practising as an artist then later vanishing without a trace.

The visual art and experimental films of Jacob Golden occupy the space between the idea and its completion. His non-scripted films frequently show improvised actions, sometimes nightmarish, occasionally utopist, but always estranged from contemporary cultural codes and conditions. Golden describes his art practice as an attempt to discover other dimensions within supposed realities, as they are considered, analyzed and understood. His films—mostly on the visual language of the autistic and severely intoxicated—show sequences of contra-logic, perverted association and liberated desire. In his more conventional artworks Golden re-appropriates common visual language taken from every day media sources to be analyzed trough uncommon sense. These works, which are usually textual, or two dimensional collages and image renderings, communicate systems of perversion, disinformation and illegality. Jacob Golden: “My art functions like a wrong command, corrupting the system. It is much like the sudden interruption of work in progress, when something is neither potent nor impotent”. The work presented in this exhibition, Have You Ever Stolen a Real McCarthy? (1997-2007), features, as the title suggests, an artwork by La based artist Paul McCarthy, mysteriously stolen from a Cologne based gallery during the mid nineties.   

As an artist who has exhibited on just a few occasions and who forbid any documentation or reproduction of his work, Oscar Neuestern’s peak of visibility was reached when he became the subject of a text, published in ARTnews in September 1969 and written by art critic Kiki Kundry. The text opens with a question posed by Kundry to the artist: “The decision to not use photographs is puzzling. Can you explain it?”—“Symmetry. Transparency” Neuestern explains, to which Kundry responds, “In other words…” Neustern’s remark that follows this, could indeed function as an accurate description of his entire work, “There is none”. Key to Neusetern’s operation, the manner in which he practiced as an artist appears to stand at a considerable distance from what was taking place around the same time, namely the mid to late 60s. Although, in a way similar to conceptual artists––which at that point were burgeoning––his work was also conceived in a clear idea based vein—possessing an equally radical impulse for expanding both the understanding and boundaries of what art might or could be. Its disparity and what subsequently allowed its uniqueness, however, lies in one concept which Neuestern was constantly preoccupied with investigating: the concept of the absolute. Indeed, while artists in the late 1960s were busy manoeuvring towards dematerialisation, Neuestern seemed to be a step ahead; his entire artistic career was founded on absence. Quoted within the aforementioned ARTnews article, the artist proclaims: “The absolute? I will never achieve it, despite what critics are saying. True transparency is possible only in the ultimate non-act, which I have not yet managed. It requires––that’s a terrifying word––unavailability of the knowledge of the impulse to reject activity. The contradiction is the self-knowledge required to make an art gesture. At best, while I reject material symmetry, I depend upon systematic balances, ideational, that is conceptual itemization balanced as on a seesaw, or perhaps a slowly moving pendulum in the eternal void.” Neuestern explains further “The problem with the new generation, as I see it, is how to be both present and absent at the same time.” His unique approach to thinking about new possibilities for art was, quite strangely, coaxed by a disease he suffered, which at times also hindered his progress. He had a memory of 24 hours, so his work was always just beginning, or rather, disappearing. Consequently, everything demanded to be written down, not only ideas for work but also the mundane events of daily life––people’s names, phone numbers, road names, etc. Therefore, ironically, while his work was primarily concerned with the idea of producing art with no apparent output at all, his life was constantly full of materiality. Yet, for what must be in abundance, none of Neuestern’s notes can be located and furthermore nothing has publicly been heard about his work since the aforementioned ARTnews article was released, leading some to believe that he went missing or simply stopped practising as an artist. Perhaps this was Neuestern finally achieving his ultimate goal, the ultimate non-act. The Plan (Press Kit) (1969-1970) is a work resulting from and included within his solo exhibition at Stella Danaro gallery during the same years.