Fine 319: Trees and Chairs

Joseph Kosuth's One and Three Chairs I think is an excellent example of conceptual art to use for beginners. It's so concise, so easy to explain, and so much fun. It has it all: found objects, the use of text, playing with mental images, and easily reproducible. You could do it with any object and get the same result.

Which makes me think: why a chair? I can come up with a few reasons. First off, a chair is pretty ubiquitous in global culture. Every society has a variation of a chair; yet this particular chair he uses is distinctly Western. You can define a chair, yet there are still variations. A chair is also a rather tactile object: you use it for no other reason than to sit, and simply thinking of a chair conjures up feelings in your body. They're also everywhere -- and yet an object we don't always think of. And of course, there's the property of the chair itself. Easy to transport, a mid-size object that stands up by itself, you don't need to build a shelf to display the piece, nor is it so large that you need to scramble to find a space to place it. And what about the word itself? A simple word that is easy to pronounce, with no trick spellings.

Let's compare that to another conceptual piece with some similarities: An Oak Tree by Michael Craig-Martin.

A pamphlet argues that the glass of water displayed is, in fact, a fully grown oak tree. The text is as follows:

Q. To begin with, could you describe this work?

A. Yes, of course. What I've done is change a glass of water into a full-grown oak tree without altering the accidents of the glass of water.

Q. The accidents?

A. Yes. The colour, feel, weight, size ...

Q. Do you mean that the glass of water is a symbol of an oak tree?

A. No. It's not a symbol. I've changed the physical substance of the glass of water into that of an oak tree.

Q. It looks like a glass of water.

A. Of course it does. I didn't change its appearance. But it's not a glass of water, it's an oak tree.

Q. Can you prove what you've claimed to have done?

A. Well, yes and no. I claim to have maintained the physical form of the glass of water and, as you can see, I have. However, as one normally looks for evidence of physical change in terms of altered form, no such proof exists.

Q. Haven't you simply called this glass of water an oak tree?

A. Absolutely not. It is not a glass of water anymore. I have changed its actual substance. It would no longer be accurate to call it a glass of water. One could call it anything one wished but that would not alter the fact that it is an oak tree.

Q. Isn't this just a case of the emperor's new clothes?

A. No. With the emperor's new clothes people claimed to see something that wasn't there because they felt they should. I would be very surprised if anyone told me they saw an oak tree.

Q. Was it difficult to effect the change?

A. No effort at all. But it took me years of work before I realised I could do it.

Q. When precisely did the glass of water become an oak tree?

A. When I put the water in the glass.

Q. Does this happen every time you fill a glass with water?

A. No, of course not. Only when I intend to change it into an oak tree.

Q. Then intention causes the change?

A. I would say it precipitates the change.

Q. You don't know how you do it?

A. It contradicts what I feel I know about cause and effect.

Q. It seems to me that you are claiming to have worked a miracle. Isn't that the case?

A. I'm flattered that you think so.

Q. But aren't you the only person who can do something like this?

A. How could I know?

Q. Could you teach others to do it?

A. No, it's not something one can teach.

Q. Do you consider that changing the glass of water into an oak tree constitutes an art work?

A. Yes.

Q. What precisely is the art work? The glass of water?

A. There is no glass of water anymore.

Q. The process of change?

A. There is no process involved in the change.

Q. The oak tree?

A. Yes. The oak tree.

Q. But the oak tree only exists in the mind.

A. No. The actual oak tree is physically present but in the form of the glass of water. As the glass of water was a particular glass of water, the oak tree is also a particular oak tree. To conceive the category 'oak tree' or to picture a particular oak tree is not to understand and experience what appears to be a glass of water as an oak tree. Just as it is imperceivable it also inconceivable.

Q. Did the particular oak tree exist somewhere else before it took the form of a glass of water?

A. No. This particular oak tree did not exist previously. I should also point out that it does not and will not ever have any other form than that of a glass of water.

Q. How long will it continue to be an oak tree?

A. Until I change it.

Source

In Kosuth's piece, each of the three representations match. In Craig-Martin's work, they obviously do not. Yet what we are confronted with is the nature of reality, of sensory experience, and the authority of the written word, the artist, and even of God. Craig-Martin is referencing transubstantiation; this bread is the body of Christ, this blood is the blood. Why? Because I said so. Or, because of (insert theological logic here). How much faith do we place in the written word, or how often do we simply agree with whatever logic is presented to us, despite how dubious it actually is?