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Inherent Vice

Shortly after composer John Cage passed away in 1992, a series of posters appeared on the streets of Toronto to commemorate the event. Designed by Bruce Mau, they were predominately empty sheets of paper. A sliver of an image running along the side depicted a blurry figure in mid-stride, and a small-ish line of text read something like: “there is so much to do, it is hard to know where to begin; begin anywhere”. Upon first seeing this poster in a friend’s living room, I was initially impressed by the piece’s obliqueness and starkness. But over time, what stuck with me was the choice of material: blueprint paper — probably intended to fade away in the open air. (bad pun alert: de-compose)

‘Inherent vice’ is the art conservation term used to describe materials lacking certain archival properties. Robert Smithson’s earthworks, Albert Pinkham Ryder’s home-made paint additives, Mark Rothko’s overthinned color washes, and Julian Schnabel’s paintings with glued-on crockery all have an inherent vice in their materials. Yet, there is an additional beauty to those pieces which comes from their fragility. Have you ever found yourself at the corner of wabi and sabi when confronting the odd faded poster or musty, yellowing book? This beauty is more about the object’s passage through time rather than the clever hand of its maker.

Design is full of examples where the decayed and decrepit have been mined for imagery: the ring wear of old LPs appropriated for new CD packages; the artfully torn pieces of paper which suggest passion & spontaneity; aged paper scanned for backgrounds; or digitally inserted film scratches and hand-held shakiness in motion graphics. Ultimately, such strategies are artifice and pastiche. The resulting piece may look like trash, but either through client needs or the designers’ desire for eternity, it resists being a sublime trash. Its entropy is worn as a costume.

We create ‘ephemera’ — so why it is rare to see designers fully utilize an ephemeral aesthetic? More common in the artworld —the Nouveaux Réalistes, Fluxus, Happenings, etc — the intentional employment of a material’s inherent vice can add a rich ‘time-released’ dimension to one’s work.

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ENTRY DETAILS
ARCHIVE ID 1884 FILED UNDER Miscellaneous
PUBLISHED ON Mar.23.2004 BY m. kingsley
WITH COMMENTS
Comments
graham’s comment is:

unfortunately, it's getting harder and harder to actually do some of these things anymore-they no longer exist. dyelines are no longer ammonia based, light sensitive, there's no pmt (not sure what you call it in the u.s.-the big old camera you'd wind up and down to make typesetting smaller or larger) cameras anymore, and that was a wonderful thing to make work with-especially if the developing fluid and paper were old or had been slightly exposed to light. i think i bought the last bottle of developing fluid in london (perhaps the u.k.).

i've got old heat sensitve fax paper based things that seem to have changed every time i look at them (about once every year or so)-there's a pmt print i made about 15 years ago that has a red that is still deepening.

found an old roll of dyeline prints the other day, and they're going, paler still paler, although they're not out in the light.

instead of an understanding that all things must pass, the ever-more deeply conservative world of design seems to be entrenching in the belief that the more fixed things are, the more sure (smug) things are.

some ways of working have disappeared over the last five years or so-a tiny amount of time-and it's certainly not in the service of (however dubious, or spurious) progress. more like a regression, a retardment.

On Mar.23.2004 at 04:51 PM
Armin’s comment is:

> so why it is rare to see designers fully utilize an ephemeral aesthetic?

[Not that I think this is right] Because it is so easy to fake it. Take for example Mister Retro's Machine Wash filters, why would a designer have to wait 2, 3, 15 years for something to fade and erode when you can have that look (not feel) in one Photoshop action? (I'm by no means diminishing the work of Mr Retro, because the filters are very well done).

Also, like graham says, much of that stuff isn't available anymore. Which is why going to flea markets and such is so cool.

On Mar.23.2004 at 05:54 PM
M Kingsley’s comment is:

The curmudgeon in me totally agrees with Graham's opinions of the ever-more conservative world of design and joins in his lament over extinct materials. Have you recently tried to find crepe paper? Yet, I think the disappearing ways of working he refers to are really the powers of observation -- abilities developed through practices like drawing and sculpture -- filtering the world directly.

Today's materials have their own inherent vices and can still be used in a more provocative way. For example:

1. What happens when large areas of black ink on coated paper are not properly varnished?

2. Did you know 3M carbon-less form paper does not need a pen to leave a mark?

3. What happens when you mix inks of varying fade-resistant qualities for an outdoor piece?

4. What happens when you let the piece do a 'performance' over time?

The results are probably more interesting than something done in Photoshop.

On Mar.23.2004 at 09:57 PM
aizan’s comment is:

Artists employ inherent vice partly to taunt Art's economic value, which is based on durability. This means that museums and collectors will have to invest a lot of energy and money to care for these things, if they're worth it. If not, then let it rot into oblivion.

Inherent vice is an expression of fatalism, nihilism, and a circle-of-life type of thing. That can be annoyingly juvenile. What are these artist's thinking? Oh no, things are impermanent so let's kill ourselves before our time comes? You have to feel pretty uncared for to think like that. Thinking like this is just unhealthy. On the other hand, if you're liking life, this sort of thing is a harmless indulgence.

If you know your audience, you can decide whether this is appropriate or not.

On Mar.24.2004 at 12:45 AM
aizan’s comment is:

Oh, Armin touched on the "vintage" idea, which is different from decay. Vintage just means it's got "personal history". Like old men, it's got more character and has the aura of authenticity, accomplishment, and grace. Fake patinas and wear don't. They're unseasoned, immature, trying too hard.

On Mar.24.2004 at 01:01 AM
graham’s comment is:

>Artists employ inherent vice partly to taunt Art's economic value, which is based on durability.

it's sort of the opposite, really: the fiscal value of art can reside in its impermanence, the very fact that a particular piece will decay in one way or another. rotting canvas, flaking paint, cracking lacquer-all (sometimes-mostly?) unintentioanl results of the ageing process. of course, the more intended these results, the more value (in many senses) a piece may arguably posess.

with the notion of expressing impermanence-i don't think it's as overtly nihilistic as you might think. impermanence may not so much be about an artificially heightened awareness of hedonistic decay, but rather to do with the interrelatedness of all things, how one thing cannot be without the presence of another, and so on and on . . .

any culture that turns away in ignorance of the fact of death is in deep trouble (unhealthy?).

On Mar.24.2004 at 03:12 AM
Teal’s comment is:

Beautiful topic (and expression of it).

I am drawn most strongly to texture, and few textures can compare with those of naturally derived degradation.

Perhaps part of the problem is that the world moves so fast these days, that the effects of time are not recorded. And while everything becomes ephemera, all of it passes while still new.

Sort of a strobe effect on the conciousness, with perfect pearly white crisp type perfection, in a thousand slightly divergent snapshots.

Some people do design with apparent fragility and imperfection. I think those pieces are considered moody, instead of contiguous with life's processes. But they are still compelling.

I'll have to think about including physical fragility. That is a very intrigueing idea. And it makes me wonder if it wouldn't be a good metaphor to approach web design with. Sites are often very 'fragile'.

Thank you.

On Mar.24.2004 at 06:42 AM
Zoelle’s comment is:

During my junior year of college I was given an illustration assignment. As part of the assignment the instructor challenged us to use a medium outside of our comfort zone. I had wanted to try using oils but the cost was too restrictive at that time. So I pushed aside my Grumbacher water colors and switched to using Kool Aid flavoring packets mixed with very little water. All the vibrant colors usually seen when the powder is suspended in water darkened to earth tones on paper. Before critique I received many positive comments from my classmates. During critique however, the tone changed. Prior to the assignment I earned A's and B's as grades. This one dropped to a C-. My instructor's reasoning was my blatant disregard for my own work. He sited how unprofessional my choice of medium was and how a client would react the same.

During my senior year I read a biography on Norman Rockwell. In it, he was noted as saying that he wouldn't be suprised if his paintings exploded due to his nontraditional use of oils. He often painted using highly thinned paint so that it would dry faster. When he came to a critical point in the progress of his painting he did a kind of "save as". He would varnish the painting before continuing. This way if changes needed to be made he could use thinner to wipe down to the previous varnished layer.

I often wonder how many oil portrait artists contact their clients after a year or more so that a protective layer of varnish can be added to their portrait. Oil paintings commonly take over a year to completely dry. Adding varnish too early can lead to cracking as the paint beneath shrinks. But maybe some people like it that way.

On Mar.24.2004 at 08:52 AM
graham’s comment is:

" So I pushed aside my Grumbacher water colors and switched to using Kool Aid flavoring packets mixed with very little water."

brilliant.

"My instructor's reasoning was my blatant disregard for my own work. He sited how unprofessional my choice of medium was and how a client would react the same."

fucking monkey.

On Mar.24.2004 at 09:55 AM
marian’s comment is:

This is a really interesting topic. The weird thing is I've thought about this a lot in respect to architecture, but not for graphic design.

In Vancouver we have an ongoing problem with rotting buildings. Due to all the rain, buildings start to get green or black slime growing on them about a year after they're built. I've long been wondering why someone doesn't just design a building that's supposed to do that: that incorporates nooks and crannies to grow moss: that has iron bits sticking out meant to grow, over time, huge rusty stains down the building. it would be fantastic.

So thanks Mark, I'm going to think about this concept. I like it.

The closest I have to this is Underware's printed piece for Sauna. It's printed with a heat sensitive ink, and it's really fun to put your hand on it, then watch your handprint slowly disappear as it cools off again.

On Mar.24.2004 at 10:44 AM
Jason’s comment is:

A thoughtful and informative post. As marian points out, the time-released factors play a large role in architecture. So much so that aromas are beginning to play a part in a site's development. What will this material smell like in 30 years?

I believe design will pay more attention to sensory factors (scratch 'n sniff cereal boxes will hit the stores eventually.). It's not just about look and feel, it's about all the senses and how time effects our perception. Total design equals total experience.

On Mar.24.2004 at 10:59 AM
aizan’s comment is:

but rather to do with the interrelatedness of all things, how one thing cannot be without the presence of another, and so on and on . . .

Yes, with that I'd agree. Maybe you could elaborate on how this idea might affect designs? The thing I disapprove of is self-destructive behavior, which is not a turning away from death. It's just the opposite.

On Mar.24.2004 at 11:21 AM
Su’s comment is:

This means that museums and collectors will have to invest a lot of energy and money to care for these things, if they're worth it. If not, then let it rot into oblivion.

Not quite. Conservation of pieces, particularly ones that are intended to degrade/disappear/etc or that it's just known will, is actually becoming a huge concern for curators, and various museums are already requesting artists fill out a very detailed form stating what the materials used were, what acceptable replacements are, etc, in case a piece has to be recreated(we'll not get into whether this is "right.") One example given was an installation someone did which is essentially a giant mound of a particular candy in a certain color. Visitors are encouraged to take some. If that candy is no longer produced at the time of a future display, then curators need to know what else might be used.

that incorporates nooks and crannies to grow moss: that has iron bits sticking out meant to grow, over time, huge rusty stains down the building. it would be fantastic.

Oooh. I love rusty streaks on buildings or from old nails in wood. As far as America's concerned, anyway, It's doubtful anyone will pull it off more than maybe once. Too fixated on the shiny and new. Maybe overseas. Somebody once summed up this difference to me as, "People from America go overseas to see all the old wood and stone buildings. People from overseas come to America to see all the plastic." Seems accurate.

And what Graham said about Zoelle's instructor.

On Mar.24.2004 at 01:05 PM
Matt’s comment is:

Perhaps part of the problem is that the world moves so fast these days, that the effects of time are not recorded. And while everything becomes ephemera, all of it passes while still new.

I'll add to that: It seems that as soon as something begins to wear or age or decay, we quickly tear it down or cover it up with fresh salmon pink stucco. Unfortunately, our pre-fab, disposable (swiffer anyone?) commodity culture doesn't value anything beyond its "right-now" qualities. Compounding this is the fact that manufacturers are more than willing to go along with it, so we build more crap that gets chucked in the landfill after 3 months instead of being useful for a long time and wearing gracefully and beautifully.

(sigh)

On Mar.24.2004 at 01:34 PM
Patrick’s comment is:

This is a fascinating topic. I've never really though about it in relation to graphic design before. I've had a number of concepts in my head that relate to decay/regeneration/change due to natural forces that I intend to make as fine art. There was a great exhibit at MoMA called Open Ends a few years back that explored much of this. I still have a piece of candy somewhere from Felix Gonzalez-Torres' piece (which I think is what Su is referring to above).

Appplying it to commercial design is something I'll have to start considering. The faked things always are a bit cheesy to me - they obviously lack the authenticity of the real effects of history. It's the thought that a particular book, for example, has been in hundreds of hands and been softened a little by all of them that is fascinating. (There are some nice examples of faked ones, the Smashing Pumpkins album that VSA did comes to mind, but as you say, it's a costume). Considering so many designed pieces these days have a short shelf life anyway, it seems a great opportunity to use that time in a novel way. Imagine getting a piece of mail proclaiming that once you open it, you have one hour to read it before the light makes it fade. Not the best idea, maybe, but something to ponder.

On Mar.24.2004 at 03:15 PM
JT Helms’s comment is:

Does anyone have images of Mau's John Cage posters I can see? I'm dying to check them out. I wasn't able to find any through searching.

On Mar.24.2004 at 07:50 PM
M Kingsley’s comment is:

Does anyone have images of Mau's John Cage posters I can see? I'm dying to check them out. I wasn't able to find any through searching

Sorry, I only know about it because we have a mutual friend who proudly displayed the poster in her (dark) living room. Believe me -- the piece was mainly white paper with a sliver of an image along (IIRC) the right-hand side. Very little to look at. But not to worry -- the important thing is the intent of the chosen material.

By the way... my friend still has her poster; rolled up and safely kept in a dark closet with stable temperature and humidity. It has not yet faded.

On Mar.24.2004 at 08:26 PM
Mark’s comment is:

In Japan, there's an aesthetic philosophy, wabe sabe, that describes the phenomena of material falling apart, decaying, being imperfect. And the appreciation of its beauty.

There are several interior design books dedicated to this naturally occuring style not replicated by faux finishes (the equivilent to photoshop filters).

It's truly beautiful in all mediums.

On Mar.25.2004 at 11:23 AM
Paul K’s comment is:

Patrick,

I remember reading (perhaps here, though a quick google search wasn't enlightening) that Yoko Ono did something similar: She sent photos to people (I think of themselves) and didn't fix them, so they became exposed in the light.

Very cool, haunting idea.

On Mar.25.2004 at 05:29 PM
Steve Mock’s comment is:

I forget who did this.

A photographer puts some sort of bacteria or mold on his negatives, so - over time - his art prints would always be a little different. Growing, so to speak.

Anyone know who does that?

On Aug.24.2004 at 02:18 PM