Joseph Kosuth, No Number #6 (On Color, Blue) (1991), neon tubing with argon gas and mercury. In the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art's permanent collection: "I am only describing language, not explaining anything." (neon on wall, circa 1997, displayed at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago; the original neon is blue) A succint definition of Conceptual art, in "Inquiry into the foundations of the concept 'art', as it has come to mean," given by Joseph Kosuth, requires "a linguistic rather than plastic context."
Saturday, February 07, 2009
describing language
Joseph Kosuth, No Number #6 (On Color, Blue) (1991), neon tubing with argon gas and mercury. In the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art's permanent collection: "I am only describing language, not explaining anything." (neon on wall, circa 1997, displayed at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago; the original neon is blue) A succint definition of Conceptual art, in "Inquiry into the foundations of the concept 'art', as it has come to mean," given by Joseph Kosuth, requires "a linguistic rather than plastic context."
"I teach horizontally, meaning that while I might begin with a fixed idea of what I'm going to teach that day, I let it drift rhizomatically way off topic, often pulling it back when it gets too far. I rely on non-fixed materials to teach this way; the whole world is at my fingertips. Should I go off on a tangent about John and Rauschenberg and their love relationship as expressed in Rauschenberg's bed, an image of that bed is always a click away. From there, we can head anywhere into the non-fixed universe, be it film, text or sound. And of course, that always takes us elsewhere. As Cage says, 'We are getting nowhere fast.'" 
that anyone has yet got the imaginative measure of that terrifying day six years ago. Certainly our Tolstoy has not crawled out of the rubble. The closest we have, Don DeLillo, succeeded as an essayist-journalist ("In the Ruins of the Future: Reflections on Terror and Loss in the Shadow of September,” Harper’s, December 2001) but, to my mind, failed as a novelist ("Falling Man"). One reason, perhaps, is that the remembered emotion was instantly buried under a pile of cultural junk.' - Tod Gitlin in his review of Susan Faludi's The Terror Dream (written for 
