.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
拍品專文
Two slashes disrupt the smooth, slate-coloured surface of Lucio Fontana’s Concetto spaziale, Attese, 1960. The work is an early example of the artist’s career-defining series of tagli (cuts), which he began in 1958 and continued until his death a decade later; these works represent the culmination of the artist’s ‘Spatialist’ theories. Of the tagli, Fontana created just five with two cuts that he described as grigio (‘grey’). In addition, this painting is a rare ‘signed’ work—Fontana has marked it with his fingerprint in the lower righthand corner. Seeking to uncover new depths beyond the picture plane, Fontana’s slashed canvases united space, time, and movement. The slim, graceful cuts of Concetto spaziale, Attese transform the static canvas into a dynamic, active object. Neither painting nor sculpture, the work is revelatory in form, a poetic reach towards infinity. ‘With the taglio’, Fontana stated, ‘I have invented a formula that I think I cannot perfect … I succeeded in giving those looking at my work a sense of spatial calm, a cosmic rigour, of serenity with regard to the Infinite. Further than this I could not go’ (L. Fontana, quoted in P. Gottschaller, Lucio Fontana: The Artist’s Materials, Los Angeles 2012, p. 58).
Long fascinated by the idea that humankind might escape Earth’s boundaries, in 1946 Fontana—along with a group of artists in his native Argentina—signed the inaugural Manifesto Blanco, which put forth a new vision for the world. ‘We live in the mechanical age,’ it declared. ‘Painted canvas and upright plaster no longer have a reason to exist’ (L. Fontana et al., Manifesto Blanco, Buenos Aires 1946). These artists sought an art ‘based on the unity of time and space’ which could contend with the scientific advancements of the era. After returning to Milan from Buenos Aires in 1947, Fontana was determined to locate an idiom that would transcend the physicality of the canvas, reflecting the thrilling advancements in science and space travel that had taken mankind to new frontiers. Ultimately, Fontana abandoned traditional modes of painting and sculpture and instead began to produce his ‘Spatial concepts’. ‘I do not want to make a painting,’ explained Fontana. ‘I want to open up space’ (L. Fontana, quoted in J. van der Marck and E. Crispolti, La Connaissance, Brussels, 1974, p. 7). Indeed, by puncturing and slashing his canvases, Fontana broke the illusion of the inviolable picture surface and introduced the fourth dimension into his art.
While the slashes may at first may appear to be a simple, brutal act, in fact, they capture a moment of anticipation. Fontana appended the word attese to many of his titles; translated as ‘waiting’, it invokes a sense of expectation and wonder. ‘My cuts are above all a philosophical statement,’ he noted, ‘an act of faith in the infinite, an affirmation of spirituality. When I sit down to contemplate one of my cuts, I sense all at once an enlargement of the spirit, I feel like a man freed from the shackles of matter, a man at one with the immensity of the present and of the future’ (L. Fontana, quoted in Lucio Fontana: Venice/New York, exh. cat. Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York 2006, p. 23). Beyond each cut lies endless, infinite space, redolent with possibility and potential, the unmapped mysteries of the universe. By moving beyond the limits of the canvas, Fontana approached new dimensions and embraced a new art form.
Long fascinated by the idea that humankind might escape Earth’s boundaries, in 1946 Fontana—along with a group of artists in his native Argentina—signed the inaugural Manifesto Blanco, which put forth a new vision for the world. ‘We live in the mechanical age,’ it declared. ‘Painted canvas and upright plaster no longer have a reason to exist’ (L. Fontana et al., Manifesto Blanco, Buenos Aires 1946). These artists sought an art ‘based on the unity of time and space’ which could contend with the scientific advancements of the era. After returning to Milan from Buenos Aires in 1947, Fontana was determined to locate an idiom that would transcend the physicality of the canvas, reflecting the thrilling advancements in science and space travel that had taken mankind to new frontiers. Ultimately, Fontana abandoned traditional modes of painting and sculpture and instead began to produce his ‘Spatial concepts’. ‘I do not want to make a painting,’ explained Fontana. ‘I want to open up space’ (L. Fontana, quoted in J. van der Marck and E. Crispolti, La Connaissance, Brussels, 1974, p. 7). Indeed, by puncturing and slashing his canvases, Fontana broke the illusion of the inviolable picture surface and introduced the fourth dimension into his art.
While the slashes may at first may appear to be a simple, brutal act, in fact, they capture a moment of anticipation. Fontana appended the word attese to many of his titles; translated as ‘waiting’, it invokes a sense of expectation and wonder. ‘My cuts are above all a philosophical statement,’ he noted, ‘an act of faith in the infinite, an affirmation of spirituality. When I sit down to contemplate one of my cuts, I sense all at once an enlargement of the spirit, I feel like a man freed from the shackles of matter, a man at one with the immensity of the present and of the future’ (L. Fontana, quoted in Lucio Fontana: Venice/New York, exh. cat. Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York 2006, p. 23). Beyond each cut lies endless, infinite space, redolent with possibility and potential, the unmapped mysteries of the universe. By moving beyond the limits of the canvas, Fontana approached new dimensions and embraced a new art form.