Progression of Art
Southern Suppliers FC
For this work, Cattelan assembled a real soccer team of North African immigrants, who were then dispatched to play local matches across Italy (all of which they lost). In classic Cattelan tongue-in-cheek style, he made up a fictional sponsor for the team, which was emblazoned on the men's shirts. RAUSS is the German word for "get out," as in the phrase "Ausländer raus," or "foreigners get out." When considered in light of the artwork's name, Southern Suppliers FC, we find the artist referencing both the controversial use of cheap immigrant labor and the irony in hiring foreign sportsmen to play on Italian teams. The work draws a contrast between two types of imported labor at different ends of the economic spectrum: celebrity vs. working-class.
In her 2012 book of the same name, Claire Bishop wrote about Southern Suppliers FC as an example of "delegated performance.". According to her, delegated performance refers to "the act of hiring nonprofessionals or specialists in other fields to undertake the job of being present and performing at a particular time and a particular place on behalf of the artist, and following his or her instructions." She also notes that quite often, people are hired "to perform their own socioeconomic category, be this on the basis of gender, class, ethnicity, age, disability,
or (more rarely) profession." She explains that "through this work, Cattelan fulfills the male dream of owning a football club, and apparently insults the players by dressing them in shirts emblazoned RAUSS. At the same time, he nevertheless produces a confusing image: the word RAUSS, when combined with the startling photograph of an all-black Italian football team, has an ambiguous, provocative potency, especially when it circulates in the media, since it seems to blurt out the unspoken E.U. fear of being deluged by immigrants from outside 'fortress Europe.' Southern Suppliers FC is a social sculpture as cynical performance, inserted into the real-time social system of a soccer league." Cattelan succeeds, through the co-opting of the players, to participate in the same practice his work intends to highlight and mock.
In this work, a taxidermy squirrel lays slumped over a miniature kitchen table with two miniature chairs. At its feet lies a miniature revolver, and on the back wall of the diorama are a kitchen sink and water heater. The suicidal squirrel represents an alter ego based on a replication of the artist's childhood kitchen. Cattelan has confessed of being terrorized by the concept of failure, implied here by the squirrel's demise. It is a key element in both this work and a recurring theme in his oeuvre. He has also stated, "Sometimes it's not easy being yourself."
Interestingly, Cattelan's sister Giada also feels a connection to the work, recalling that shortly before its creation, she had been going through a challenging time in her life, and instead of offering comfort, her brother asked if she had considered suicide. A little while later, when she first saw the piece, she says that it freed her of that idea, made her smile, and allowed her to move on. Being that both siblings were raised in a lower-middle-class home rife with financial struggle, and that their mother passed at an early age, it can also be said that this piece might weave insight into Cattelan's feelings of failure from his own childhood.
The irony of the squirrel's situation is enhanced by the title Bidibidobidiboo, the magical words that a fairy tale Cinderella spoke to summon her fairy godmother while yearning to transform her life. However, no magical words, nor mystical creatures, nor collaborative social efforts were able to change this squirrel's fate.
Cattelan's early works frequently employed taxidermy, which, according to Nancy Spector, Deputy Director of the Guggenheim, "presents a state of apparent life premised on actual death."
Many, like Tom Eccles, former Director of the Public Art Fund, find Cattelan's work particularly effective because of the use of humor to explore dark issues. Some of his other works that deal with death and mortality include Now (2004), which places a deceased John F. Kennedy in a coffin, All (2007), which is comprised of nine sculptures made of white Carerra marble that appear to be supine humans shrouded in sheets, and Untitled (2009), which features a taxidermy horse, dead on the ground with a wooden sign staked in its flank bearing the Latin inscription that appeared on Jesus' cross, "INRI." By presenting such lifelike visions of death, Cattelan forces viewers to consider their own mortality, and to question the flimsy line between life and death.
Taxidermy squirrel, ceramic, formica, wood, paint, steel - Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin
If a Tree Falls in the Forest and There is No One Around It, Does It Make a Sound
This work is a farce on the biblical Christian holiday, Palm Sunday; the day when Jesus triumphantly entered Jerusalem, riding on the back of a donkey as worshippers celebrated his arrival by laying cloaks and palm fronds in his path. The donkey was a symbol of peace, an alternative to the horse, which was more associated with war. In Cattelan's work, however, Christ has been replaced by a television, allowing the artist to employ a familiar tactic of manipulating something familiar into something absurd in order to make a social point.
Cattelan's substitution of the television speaks directly toward society's numbed veneration of mass media and Spectacle Culture, a concept laid out by Guy Debord in his 1967 book, The Society of the Spectacle. According to Debord, the advent of mass media and advertising around the 1920s, caused people to become more transfixed by commodities and their representation, "images detached from every aspect of life," as a distraction, or substitute for, real life.
Conceptually, Cattelan's work recalls earlier pieces by Korean artist Nam June Paik, who often juxtaposed mainstream technological devices with religious or spiritual imagery in order to also critique the worship of mass media, as in TV Buddha (1976). Cattelan's work was later referenced by contemporary Spanish artist Pilar Albarracín in Fabulations (2010), wherein she placed a taxidermy donkey atop a pile of books to represent the modern human, inundated and overwhelmed with information and media.
Taxidermy donkey, television, bridles, cotton cloth, cord - Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin
La Nona Ora
This work consists of a life-sized sculpture of Pope John Paul II lying on a red carpet, clutching the papal cross, and being crushed by a meteor. The original installation at the Kunsthalle Basel was located directly under a shattered skylight, with shards of glass around the fallen pope. The work is a prime example of Cattelan's hyperrealist sculpture, wherein he creates the illusion of reality to lure in the viewer, and then adds elements of the uncanny to tweak the viewer's perspective, or even complacency.
In this case, the title of the work refers to the Liturgy of the Hours of the Catholic Church, that is, the official set of prayers, palms, hymns, and readings that mark the hours of, and sanctify, each day with prayer. Within this cycle, the ninth hour is the supposed hour of Christ's death on the cross, shortly after crying out "Father, father, why hast thou forsaken me?"
The work has been interpreted in various ways. Some see it as a condemnation of the Catholic Church's reputation for scandal and immoral behaviors beneath its sanctified veneer. It may also suggest God's own condemnation, via heavenly meteor, of a church that has become bastardized by the ego, greed, and sins of man. The apparent survival of the Pope, and the stern determination upon his face, also signifies that he will rise again and speaks to religion's eternal presence among man.
After its original run at Kunsthalle Basel, the piece was shown in 2000 at the Royal Academy in London, and later that year at the Zacheta Gallery of Contemporary Art in Warsaw. The latter exhibition in Poland was bound to be problematic, as it was the homeland of its subject, Pope John Paul II. It was also a time when the country was making a return to conservative right-wing politics. Indeed, the work caused a great deal of controversy when two members of Poland's Parliament, Halina Nowina-Konopka and Witold Tomczak, removed the meteor and attempted to stand the wax Pope upright. The two politicians also led a petition with ninety other members of Parliament, demanding the dismissal of the gallery's director, Anda Rottenberg. Cattelan later commented on the Warsaw controversy, saying "what happened in Poland was a sort of upside down miracle: salvation wasn't coming from the sky but from the earth, from the people".
Cattelan also defends the work by saying, "To me it's like when you are telling a joke, but no one would laugh: most of the time, provocation lies in the eye of the beholder. I believe there's nothing wrong with showing people's vulnerable side, moreover if they're icons. It might help blur some lines but I don't think it undermines their status. Quite the contrary, it reinforces their position as well as the belief that they are powerful or sacred icons."
Wax, clothing, polyester resin with metallic powder, volcanic rock, carpet, glass - Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin
Another hyperrealist sculpture, Him depicts a petite, kneeling Adolf Hitler in a grey suit, gazing upward, hands interlaced in front of him, in a pose suggestive of seeking forgiveness. Most of the time that the work has been installed, it has been located at the far end of a room or hallway, with its back turned to the entrance, so that viewers have to approach the sculpture and come around the other side to see the true identity of the figure revealed. From behind, viewers expect to encounter a small boy in prayer. Unsurprisingly, Him has become known as one of the most shockingly inflammatory artworks of the past century, enraging audiences through its seemingly compassionate placement of history's most unforgivable villain within a repentant light.
The work was included in the equally controversial Partners exhibition at the Munich Haus der Kunst in 2002. Partners was organized by the newly appointed director of the museum, Chris Dercon, and the new chief curator, Thomas Weski, who both felt it was time for Germany to stop repressing its troubling past, and instead face it directly. Him could not have been more perfect for this mission, since as Cattelan states, "Hitler is everywhere, haunting the spectre of history; and yet he is unmentionable, irreproducible, wrapped in a blanket of silence."
Cattelan also says of the piece, "I wanted to destroy it myself. I changed my mind a thousand times, every day. Hitler is pure fear; it's an image of terrible pain. It even hurts to pronounce his name. And yet that name has conquered my memory, it lives in my head, even if it remains taboo." Yet, regardless of these concerns, the piece lived on, cementing the artist's mission to hold a mirror up to society.
Wax, human hair, suit, polyester resin
Untitled (all five horses together at once, for the first time)
In this work, we see five taxidermy horses hung in a row. But unlike traditional animal trophies that hunters place on their walls comprised of large heads, we are confronted with the horses' rear quarters, their heads seemingly disappearing into the wall. Two of the horses are artist's proofs from Cattelan's 2007 work Untitled, and the other three are 2007 Untitled pieces, on loan from various private collections around the world. In this version, he brought together the five lonely horses into a herd that now, as a pack, have come to make a group decision on how to escape their tragic conditions by jumping into this wall.
The stance of the horses almost imply that they leaped willingly into this space, perhaps out of fear, or attempt to escape some danger, or even with a desire to commit suicide. In any case, the dangling bodies also conjure the phrase "horse's ass" which is used to denote a person who is stupid, incompetent, or a blockhead - something we know that Cattelan himself was always deathly afraid of being considered in his role as an artist.
This work first appeared in the Kaputt exhibition at the Fondation Beyeler in Basel, Switzerland. The title refers to the novel kaputt primavera by Curzio Malaparte. In the book, the author recounts the tragic death of a thousand horses in WWII who jumped into Lake Ladoga in Finland in order to escape the forest fires caused by aerial bombardments. While in the middle of the lake, it suddenly froze over, trapping them in place.
Art critic Francesco Bonami writes, "the jump [of the single 'untitled' horse] is delusional and yet heroic. The five horses transform delusion into panic and individual effort into a feverish crowd. It's an exodus we're witnessing, not a search for freedom. Like Malaparte's horses in Finland that run away from the burning wood into the frozen lake, Cattelan's horses do not seek freedom but survival."
In 2016, Cattelan installed this 18-karat solid gold, fully functional replica of a standard Kohler toilet in a small bathroom at the Guggenheim in New York City. Paying museum patrons were welcomed to use the toilet, an item of vast luxury and richness usually reserved for only those who could afford it, otherwise coined in America as 1% of the population. A guard was stationed at the door to answer any questions.
America directly references the famous Fountain (1917) by Cattelan's idol, Marcel Duchamp while also becoming a critique of excessive wealth. Upon installation, Cattelan said "I'm happy because it's not on a pedestal, it's not in a gallery. It's in a little room, just waiting for you whenever you need it. When I saw it in there the other day for the first time, I cried. Well, almost." He sees a certain democratic appeal in the work, as it causes the user to realize that "Whatever you eat, a two-hundred-dollar lunch or a two-dollar hot dog, the results are the same, toilet-wise."
It was also a groundbreaking piece in the way that it evolved a viewer's intimacy with a work of art. Not only was a person contained in close personal quarters with an object of extreme value, they were invited to partake in one of their most private moments in direct interaction with it. This created an unprecedented experience, crafted by Cattelan's trickster mind, to express the inescapable commonalities of our physical reality, even in light of our social and economic differences.
Although it was conceived before Donald Trump entered the running for the U.S. presidential election, it is now impossible not to associate the solid gold receptacle for human waste with the signature gold aesthetic of Trump's corporate branding.
18-karat gold - Guggenheim, New York City