![Rirkrit Tiravanija interview by Hans Ulrich Obrist
The first part of this interview took place in Paris in December 1993 and the second part in Mexico City in July 2002.
[1] Paris, December l993
Hans Ulrich Obrist:
You said, “Basically I started to make things so that people would have to use them, which means if you want to buy something then you have to use it… It’s not meant to be put out with other sculpture or like another relic and looked at, but you have to use it. I found that was the best solution to my contradiction in terms of making things and not making things. Or trying to make less things, but more useful things or more useful relationships.” In terms of your idea that “it is not what you see that is important but what takes place between people,” when was the first time you set up a temporary kitchen and cooked curry in a museum or gallery setting?
Rirkrit Tiravanija:
It was called [Untitled 1989] (…). The first food piece was displayed in a group exhibition at the Scott Hanson Gallery, which no longer exists (“Outside the Clock: Beyond Good & Elvis,” Scott Hanson Gallery, New York, 1989). Four pedestals were blocking the passage between the entry way and the exhibition space. On these pedestals were displayed various processes of a curry being cooked, i.e., a pedestal for ingredients, a pedestal with curry cooking on a burner, a pedestal with waste products. The visitors could smell the cooking curry as they entered the space; the smell permeated through the gallery. A new pot of curry was cooked once a week. But the curry was not to be eaten.
HUO:
And when was the first time that you invited the “viewers” to share and taste the curry?
RT:
It was for [Untitled 1992 (Free)] in my one-person exhibition at 303 Gallery, New York. All of the contents of the gallery were emptied out into the main exhibition space, including the office. All doors (to office, storage rooms, cabinets, toilet, etc.) were removed from their frames to open and empty out hidden spaces. The office emptied out is then timed into a social/meeting space with two pots of curry (one red curry, one green) and a pot of rice to offer the visitor on their lunch. (The windows in an office play a significant role as external/internal can be viewed). On display in the office are the ingredients of the meal plus the remains from the cooking and eating process (which later becomes documentation of the situation at hand). The cooking and food for the first time (there were other projects previous to this, which occurred for only one evening or just for the opening of exhibition) is made continuously through the duration of the exhibition. The gallery office space became a central meeting point and rest stop for many regular visitors to SoHo. “(Free)” in this particular situation could signify the emptying of context/content. From exhibition to non-exhibit of place/non-place. “(Free)” could also be read as open—-or as plain and simple as no charge for the situation (free food).
HUO:
Very quickly, you also developed more and more complex environments for these encounters. Could you tell me, for instance, about your tearoom at Exit Art in New York in 1993?
RT:
It was [Untitled 1993 (The Cure)] and it was in a group show called “Fever.” In response to the context of “Fever,” I built a tea tent using a material with the color of Thai Buddhist monks’ robes: golden orange. The dimensions of the tent were made to the specifications of a Japanese tearoom—-measuring ten-by-ten-by-ten-feet. The measurement the Japanese got is derived from a Buddhist scripture—-which is the measurement of a room in which the Lord Buddha gave sermon to 40,000 monks (mind over matter). Tea plus water plus kettle plus teapots with a table and chair were set into the tent. The door of the tent faces a window—-inside the space the exhibition is blocked out of view. Tea, being a drink of medicinal quality (and for me with cultural significance) was to become an antidote to the “Fever” and a space for rest, contemplation, etc.
HUO:
Another type of environment like this one is the one that took place this summer at the Biennale di Venezia (“Aperto 93,” La Biennale di Venezia, 45th International Art Exhibition, 1993).
RT:
It was [Untitled 1993 (twelve seventy one)]. “Twelve seventy one” because it was the year Marco Polo had set off to the Far East from Venice. The centerpiece to this project is an aluminum canoe—-the canoe being an image of Native America—-and inside the canoe are two pots filled with water, which are being boiled-so there is water also in the canoe itself. The image of boats with food being cooked in them are drawn from Thailand. And accompanying the canoe are local cafe tables—-and fold out stools put out to be used by the visitors to the Aperto. There are also Cup ‘O Noodles in boxes that were shipped in from the U.S. and that were made by a Japanese company in California, and these cups of noodles were left for the visitors to help themselves as they are instantly cooked. This situation lasted as long as there were noodles for the viewers to consume (this did not take too long). The remains were left as evidence of the event. I had used Venice as a focus for the piece-which was a collage of place, mythologies (Marco Polo and the pasta from the Orient), hybrids of culture, tourism. And this also provided a possible place for rest and passage in the context of the exhibition.
2] Mexico City, ten years later…
HUO:
Your exhibition at the Secession (Vienna, 2002) is based on Rudolf Schindler’s house in Los Angels, his house on Kings Road in Los Angeles, built in 1921-1922; your idea was to install a reconstruction of the studio of the Schindler House in the main room of the Secession and use this as a stage for various activities, as a venue for a multimedia program including film screenings, concerts, presentations and lectures. Your idea is to antimate Schindler’s world of ideas, his concept of inside and outside in relation to the conditions of private and public spaces, but not in a nostalgic way in the sense that you are taking it as a frame for your own ideas on relationships and communities, and your characteristic conception of art as an investigation and implementation of “living well.” Do you see it as a station?
RT:
I see the idea of the station in the sense of a platform where people have to come together at one point before going off to different divergent positions again. The station is a place where, while you’re waiting, there could be an insertion of a program into the station that the people passing through interact with.
HUO:
And it’s a contemporary form of relay, like in old times when on a journey, the horses got water and travelers got food.
RT:
Exactly. It is a place where you rest, but at the same time you pick up more information. But of course, it’s a different kind of absorption when you’re resting and getting information than when you’re focusing just for the sake of getting information. But I think what’s interesting about this demonstration is a culmination of different modes of presentation of both art and non-art.
HUO:
You spoke about another project of yours designed like a station in Japan.
RT:
The show is at the Asahi beer space [Untitled, 2002 (demo station No.3), Sumida Riverside Hall Gallery—-Asahi Beer Arts Foundation, 2002]. It’s a space, which is programmed; there is a list of people who come and use the space. It’s the same as I did in Portikus when we had a big unscheduled program that people knew about and they came to [Untitled, 2001 (Demo Station No 1), Portikus, Frankfurt]. I think there are also possibilities for things to happen when there is nothing happening, so that other people can come in and actually take it over and use it.
HUO..
A bit like in your Whitney installation when there was nothing; you just set up musical instruments, inviting museumgoers to make impromptu jam sessions (1995 Biennial Exhibition, Whitney Museum of America Art, New York).
RT:
Exactly, people who know that it’s there can come and use it because they know that it is there. But I think that is a way to have both possibilities of presentation, so that it is static at the same time as being active.
HUO:
And an acceleration and a slowness, a new slowness.
RT:
“A new slowness,” that’s a good idea. There has always been a discussion about speed, but there’s a speed at which you can think and a speed at which you cannot. I like the idea of always moving and thinking, not always just moving. It could just be in one place.
HUO:
I heard rumors that you’re going to do a big summer academy in Frankfurt. Will this also be a station?
RT:
Well, it is definitely developing out of the station idea. It’s more of an academy, but having been through that situation in Portikus, I think that it would be an amazing thing to do. You could make a station where all the young students could come to. It would be like a jamboree.
HUO:
A jamboree?
RT:
It’s a term that they use for the scouts, when all the scouts come together from all around the world. But that was like the Utopia of the ’70s. I always wanted to go to a jamboree.
HUO:
And you were a scout?
RT:
For a short time. I think as a young boy, the image of scouting was very important.
HUO:
You said that there is a sense of “no future” in New York, which is perhaps a global climate also. I think it is important that, for our venice project (“Utopia Staion,” La Biennale di Venezia, 50th International Exhibition, 2003) we can provide a platform in a non-nostalgic and non-naive way, a platform of hope and of change. It is very important that there is a generosity and that we do not prescribe Utopia.
RT:
Absolutely not. I think it’s impossible. What interested me in this funny discussion yesterday was that there was one paper, which was presented which was about the idea of difference and otherness, and the person actually used a description of the idea as strangeness: “the others are strange,” which was a way to make a low structure towards the sophistication of difference. I thought that was quite interesting, and my explanation of my anti-globalistic idea is that globalism doesn’t really work because it’s just a skin, a skin which gives you the excuse of not understanding the other even more. And through that conversation, it struck me that the idea of Utopia is really the idea of understanding difference. And the failures—-I think these previously modeled utopian conditions have always been in a kind of conformity of ideas, which is to say that somehow everyone should become one cohesive structure, one cohesive consciousness, and that would bring with it a sense of freedom. But I think that this is impossible, and the reason why it will fail. I think that the possibility should be about understanding difference, which is something I think would be difficult for the western hegemony and the Eurocentric structures to open up to, even though they talk about globalization. I think it is very interesting in relation to the idea of hunger, because I think that is part of the economy that…
HUO:
Here is an article I read in this morning paper: “La lutte contre la faim dans le monde est en echec (the fight against hunger in the world is about to fail). Starvation again threatens Austral-Africa. 800 million human beings are hungry everyday, and half of humans suffer from lack of food. In 1996, the rules of the world made an engagement to reduce this figure by six million per year, the number of people who are undernourished. The agriculture of thesouthern countries is unable to nourish the population. The reason for this are a lack of water, wars, and lack of organization of these countries’ resources. The United Nations organization for alimentation and agriculture says that many more clear that if this situation continues, the world economic system which already witnesses a strong disequilibrium between the North and the South would have a big role for the destruction of the South. The disequilibrium comes from unequal exchange. The North asks the South to abolish the frontiers for industrial products, bank products, and agricultural products… “
RT:
… which is globalization.
HUO:
“… and at the same time it closes its doors to exports from the South, eroding its landscape by subventions which are higher and higher. So it basically makes a lobby of its own agriculture. This way, foods or cereals from the south are prevented from entering this market but the beef from the northern markets gets to African markets, doubling prices and leading to the ruin of the local producers and hence destroying the local economy. The recent decision of President George W. Bush to augment $190 billion for ten years would mean 80% of the subsidies sent from Washington to American agriculture are, in this context, catastrophic. Contrary to all the promises made by all the American authorities themselves on the occasion of the OMC summit in Goa last year, it will reinforce even more than ever the disequilibrium of the markets. But above all, it will break the small amount of hope, of consciousness which could be borne out of the capital of the North on the misdeeds of the global agricultural system. The message of cold egoism which risks serving as a justification for other countries in the North to reinforce even more their own agricultural aids. The U.S. is a bad example. It could be in Europe, in france. Jacques Chirac blocks all kinds of reform. Poverty and starvation forewarns them of this fake free exchange. Fake free exchange is a bigger reason for poverty and starvation than the decline in development aid. Now the drama is that the subsidies in the North are not enough in order to avoid the situation where more and more peasants abandon their wares in the United States as in Europe. So at the end, the producers of the South and the North are ruined.”
RT:
So it’s like the subsidies are actually to keep farmers from farming. The idea is to give money to people so that they don’t do anything on their farms because there’s too much produce. I’ve read similar things in which money is not given to the South but rather their products are bought. But I think this is a funny humanistic idea of global economy, and it’s always going one way and never the other. You can look at the movements of people and you can see who is going where.
HUO..
A new kinetic elite —- being able to travel.
RT:
People say to me, “Why don’t you just get an American passport?”
HUO:
What is your passport?
RT:
Thai. And I would say it would be a lot easier for me to travel but it would also mean that I would no longer recognize the fact that I have to struggle to move around. I would rather struggle to move around, to a point where I also don’t feel I need to be anywhere. If there is a wall there, obviously there will always be people behind that wall who want me to go. But those people are going to have to recognize the fact that there is a wall and they’re going to have to deal with that.
HUO:
So you have a lot of trouble at customs?
RT:
Yes, generally. Every two years I have to get a new visa to be in Germany, which gives me some freedom around Europe. But I can’t go to England today-I have to go and get a visa. I can’t go to Tokyo instantly or to America. It’s collapsing. Places that used to be free are now demanding more. It’s like Scandinavia, which used to be a much more open and free place, but now you have to have a visa to go there…
HUO:
Obviously, there is a link between this “geo-political” situation and the way you are developing projects of stations. Where did this idea of the station come from? —- because you haven’t used the term until recently…
RT:
No, it is recent, and it came from the magazine (oVER Magazine). The idea of the magazine was that it was a publishing station (Namdee Publishing Station, Bangkok). I was very interested in the idea of publishing as an activity. I think publishing is a future activity, which can connect this kind of thinking to a bigger field and other structures. Publishing can be many things; it can be an object, a text, sound…
HUO:
… broadcasting, like you do through the “oVER Channel”…
RT:
Yes, so I wanted to move my idea of activity to publishing, and not just as an individual but as a collective.
HUO:
And where did the name Namdee come from?
RT:
I think there was a Surrealist or Dadaist magazine called Spleen, and Namdee is Thai for spleen. But it also plays on itself because it means “clean water.” Clean water is a calming thing for Thai people, and of course, it is a place that gathers and then disperses.
HUO:
And the station still exists in Bangkok?
RT:
Yes, so the office is there for the station. Then I was trying to use that idea of the station to move it around in relation to the magazine. The other side of that coin that I’m working on is the idea of demonstration. Even though there’s this sense of “no future,” there is a great deal of activism going on.
HUO:
Not in the art world.
RT:
Not in the art world, but elsewhere. And I think I’m trying to recognize that. I’ve been collecting images of lots of demonstrations.
HUO:
You have constituted an archive?
RT:
Yes, it’s in Bangkok. Then a young artist is making drawings of them. It’s like the way he survives-it’s like a job for him. And that’s also part of the Station, to connect people from outside to people there, to create an economic exchange structure. And it’s particular interesting to do so in Thailand, because there are of course lots of people going into art school trying to become artists but there is absolutely no structure for artists.
HUO:
But there is the project of having a private museum there.
RT:
Well, I’ve been talking with this man literally for four years.
HUO:
He came to my office in Paris last week.
RT:
This man was hoping to work with Rem Koolhaas because he wants a building that will be famous. I said the most interesting thing would be to get an artist to design his museum for him. I suggested he talk with Jorge Pardo about it, but he wasn’t sure about that. Then I asked Philippe [Parreno] and Fransois [Roche] to come over to look at “The Land” because they were going to work together on this structure for “Utopia.” So they came and had a look, and had some ideas. Then the night before they were leaving town we went to a party at a club. This man was there with some other friends. He came over and started talking to me about the museum some more. I suggested he speak to a couple of friends. It was a coincidence really. I had already thought it would be interesting for Fransois to come to Thailand because I think his ideas are really interesting. Also, to understand this idea of the periphery—- there are a lot more possibilities of doing things that you could never do in the center. It should be a lab. So this man talked to Francois and Philippe and went and checked out the web site of Francois. The next morning they ere and looked at “The Land,” they talked more. And then Francois made a design and they were very happy about it.
HUO:
And now he wants to build it?
RT:
Yes, he would like to build it. I’m sure he would build it tomorrow if he could.
HUO:
When they came to my office, I asked when the museum would open. Francois said that it would perhaps be 2003 or 2004.
RT:
These things take time.
HUO:
Can you tell me about your large-scale collaborative and transdisciplinary project “The Land”?
RT:
First, I would say that it’s not my land. It’s just “The Land” itself.
HUO:
When was the project initiated and who owns “The Land”?
RT:
It was in 1998. “The Land” was the merging of ideas by different artists to cultivate a place of and for social engagement. It’s been acquired in the name of artists who live in Chiang Mai. We purchased this plot of land, in the village of Sanpatong, near Chiang Mai, and we’ve been trying to find a way to turn it into a collective and to have the property owned by no one in particular. But really, that’s one of the hardest things to do in Thailand. We cannot be a foundation. “The Land” is not a property.
HUO:
But to what extent would you define it as a project?
RT:
We don’t want to have to deal with it as a presentation to the art structures, because I think it should be neutral; and, it’s also one of the reasons why it’s not about property. It was started without the concept of ownership and is cultivated using traditional Thai farming techniques. In the middle of “The Land” are two working rice fields, monitored by a group of students from the University of Chiang Mai and a local village. The harvest is shared by all of the participants involved and some local families suffering from the AIDS epidemic.
HUO:
Though initiated not solely as structures to be designed, built, and used by artists, most of the architectural projects on “The Land” to date are being developed by such, no?
RT:
A gardener house was build by Kamin [Lerdchaiprasert], and the collaborative Superflex developed a system for the production of biogas. There is no electricity or water, as it would be problematic in terms of land development in the area. Superflex have made experimentations to use natural renewable resources as alternative sources for electricity and gas.
HUO:
“Supergas.”
RT:
Exactly. Superflex is using “The Land” as a lab for the development of a biogas system. The gas produced will be used for the stoves in the kitchen, as well as lamps for light.
HUO:
And what is your own architectural contribution to “The Land”?
RT:
I designed a house based on “the three spheres of needs”: the lower floor is a communal space with a fireplace; it’s the place of accommodation, gathering, and exchanges; the second floor is for reading and meditation and reflection on the exchanges; the top floor for sleep.
HUO:
“The Land” is something of a “massive-scale artist-run space” in which artists of all kinds are offered the chance to exceed the boundaries of their discipline, to construct works they may not have otherwise imagined, and to allow these works to be developed and experienced in an atypical way. Who are the other artists involved in the project?
RT:
Tobias [Rehberger], Alicia [Framis], and Karl [Holmqvist] have worked on housing structures, Philippe and Fransois are making plans for a central activity hall that will function as a biotechnology-driven hyper-plug. Their [Plug in Station] uses nature to produce the interface: it will make use of a satellite downlink and a live elephant will generate the necessary power. And then [Peter] Fischli and [David] Weiss’s project is a small office building for Chiang Mai, and Atelier van Lieshout developed a toilet system, Arthur Meyer constructed a system for harnessing solar power, Prachya Phintong put in place a program for fish farming and a water library, Mit Jai In develops tree plants to be later turned into baskets.
HUO..
Are there people already coming to visit “The Land” for reasons other than because they have been invited to participate in the project?
RT:
A lot of people are visiting it and have been staying there even though it’s not quite ready.
HUO:
So it’s already functioning as a station…
RT:
Yes, as a self-sustaining station. All structures are for open use.
HUO:
What is the time span?
RT:
The thing I would say is that there is no time span, there is no beginning, there is no end. It’s a constant, like time itself. And because we’re not faced with problems of property or ownership, we don’t ever have to feel obliged to finish or have any success in a way.
HUO:
This is a logic that you’ve been trying to bring into the exhibition realm as well like with your installation at the Secession in Vienna, and already a few years before with the Cologne show, where you reproduced your New York apartment including the kitchen and bathroom at the Kunstverein in Cologne and required these rooms to be open 24-hours a day [Untitled 1996 (tomorrow is another day)].
RT:
For the one in Vienna now, we’re basically going to build it through the “opening” so that there is no opening. There has never really been an opening for me. And I never feel the need to fix a moment where everything is complete.
HUO:
You’re also been doing this project using models of [Ludwig] Mies van der Rohe’s [Seagram Building] (New York, 1954 - 1958) and his [Neue National Galerie] (Berlin, 1956 - 1968)…
RT:
Actually I’ve been making this half-scale structure, a half-scale pavilion, but it’s kind of like those Russian dolls, so there’s the pavilion, and then inside that there’s the [Neue National Galerie], and then inside that there’s the [Seagram tower].
HUO:
So it’s a building within a building within a building.
RT:
Yes, but the biggest building he made…
HUO:
… is the smallest.
RT:
And also I wanted to make a progression from private to corporate, which is what happened to Mies in a way; he went from a very ideological structure to a corporate American structure. I wanted to have a Barcelona chair inside which would act as Mies, so he’s sitting in this pavilion, looking at all these things, and there’s a radio on playing “The Life of Mies,” which is a radio play.
HUO:
Read by whom?
RT:
Actors.
HUO:
And this is an existing radio play?
RT:
No, I’d make it up.
HUO:
And that’s a whole show then?
RT:
Yes.
HUO:
And where will that be?
RT:
I haven’t got a place for it, just an idea. I’m fascinated by Mies and I’m also fascinated by the contradictions of the movement.
HUO:
But for Vienna, you’re focusing on Shindler?
RT:
Yes, it’s something I’d been planning for a long time, even before the MoCA retrospective (“The Architecture of R.M. Schindler,” Museum of Contemporary Arts, Los Angeles, 2001).
HUO:
And why are you interested in Shindler?
RT:
Because I think that he’s an underground architect.
HUO:
More than [Richard] Neutra.
RT:
Much more than Neutra. He’s the opposite. Neutra really worked with Schindler. Schindler was in LA and Neutra came and stayed with him and they were starting on a Partnership and then they broke up. Then Neutra became successful because he was very ambitious too. Schindler for me is very interesting.
HUO:
About your Secession exhibition, you also made references to the market and to the dance floor, which are also kinds of stations.
RT:
Well, I was thinking about all the markets I have been to, such as in the Light Market in Thailand where people come and socialize. And the idea of the dance floor is a place of socialization through music and dancing. Then there’s this market in Brazil where people arrive from the countryside and it’s a huge open space where people from the countryside and can bring their food. I think that is an interesting way to think about the relationship between art and hunger. The people who work at the market have to get up at around two or three o’clock in the morning. People also go there at that time of the night to eat and somehow to participate in the entertainment that these people provide for themselves at the markets. There is a stall where people are sleeping after they have set up their meat. And then there are people who sit together and drink.
HUO:
Where is this market?
RT:
In Rio. But it’s the same in many places. It’s about the farmer’s market really, about people coming in from the countryside. Some people have to drive all through the night to get there. The kiosks also make me think about the idea of the station. Before you go, you need to pick up some things. So, we’re talking about some kind of space that is accommodating to the passage. At the Secession, it’s more a semi-station in fact.
HUO:
A semi-station?
RT:
Yes, it’s a semi-station in the sense that I would like to think of it more as a kind of park or a garden. That’s something that I’ve been quite interested in, its interiority and exteriority, and ideas of nature and living, inside and outside. It’s more like living outside, closer to camping, so really it’s a kind of semi-station because it’s about the “outside space” rather than the “passage space” which is the station. I would say that semi-stations are more a place to rest than a lot of other spaces.
HUO:
And so for the moment it’s a platform, and a platform of interaction that is also a platform on which a house will be built.
RT:
Yes, it’s the foundation of a house, but the house itself is based on the idea of the “exterior.” There is very little “interior” in a sense, presenting you with the interior so that you can experience it outside. And of course, in this case, one night of the week the space will be open all night so that people can come and spend the night there.
HUO:
For the show at the Secession, the idea is that it’s the foundations for a house but at the same time there are the plants, the palms, which bring the outside inside and vice-versa.
RT:
Yes, of course. All things together in life! Which is interesting, and particularly interesting in relation to [Marcel] Broodthaers, although I’m not entirely sure why. And again, maybe it’s the same sensibility that I also think about Schindler. There’s an interesting relationship there. Schindler’s garden plan is very symmetrical, and I don’t remember thinking about it, but it struck me that I don’t think Broodthaers would have made such a symmetrical plan.
HUO:
And how do you feel about Philippe Parreno’s interests in evoking the collectivity? One of the ideas for the “Venice Station” is bringing in people, whether alive or dead. Here you are talking of bringing in Schindler and indirectly broodthaers, but at the same time there are videos of people who are working now: so there is also this dimension to consider.
RT:
Yes. Well, I think that’s interesting because of the idea of working with the vernacular.
HUO:
And because nothing is new anymore.
RT:
I think it’s not so much a matter of nothing being new anymore, but that there are important ideas that have already been made. And rather than trying to represent it, to present the things that already exist. So that’s why I have been personally interested in collectivity; there are a lot of ideas already out there. We need to realize that it is part of our consciousness of reality. It’s a presentation of the author, perhaps in a different kind of condition because times have often changed, but I think it’s always important to look back at those ideas.
HUO:
In terms of collaboration and bilateral exchange rather than appropriation, Kurt Schwitters talked about the Merzbau (1923-1943) as a sort of shrine of friendship.
RT:
I think it’s a good word and a good starting point. That’s also something that was interesting in the interview that you did with [Peter] Smithson when you were talking about shows and how they’re about collective friendships that come about and go away, oscillating.
HUO:
What would you say are the best group shows that you have been in?
RT:
I’ve been thinking about that and I think that they were all early on. “Backstage” was a formative group show for me (“Backstage,” Hamburger Kunstverein, Hamburg, 1993). And as you say, it’s the kind of situation where we all had the energy and we all had the sense. That was a show that we really enjoyed together. The group shows I enjoy are generally not so big. Firstly they weren’t such big group shows, and then secondly there were always relations amongst the people who were in the exhibition. Always creating relations, people meeting people.
This interview is available on “Interviews Volume 1” by Hans Ulrich Obrist.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lwzmwnYrkU1r7q1gao1_500.jpg)
Rirkrit Tiravanija interview by Hans Ulrich Obrist
The first part of this interview took place in Paris in December 1993 and the second part in Mexico City in July 2002.
[1] Paris, December l993
Hans Ulrich Obrist: You said, “Basically I started to make things so that people would have to use them, which means if you want to buy something then you have to use it… It’s not meant to be put out with other sculpture or like another relic and looked at, but you have to use it. I found that was the best solution to my contradiction in terms of making things and not making things. Or trying to make less things, but more useful things or more useful relationships.” In terms of your idea that “it is not what you see that is important but what takes place between people,” when was the first time you set up a temporary kitchen and cooked curry in a museum or gallery setting?
Rirkrit Tiravanija: It was called [Untitled 1989] (…). The first food piece was displayed in a group exhibition at the Scott Hanson Gallery, which no longer exists (“Outside the Clock: Beyond Good & Elvis,” Scott Hanson Gallery, New York, 1989). Four pedestals were blocking the passage between the entry way and the exhibition space. On these pedestals were displayed various processes of a curry being cooked, i.e., a pedestal for ingredients, a pedestal with curry cooking on a burner, a pedestal with waste products. The visitors could smell the cooking curry as they entered the space; the smell permeated through the gallery. A new pot of curry was cooked once a week. But the curry was not to be eaten.
HUO: And when was the first time that you invited the “viewers” to share and taste the curry?
RT: It was for [Untitled 1992 (Free)] in my one-person exhibition at 303 Gallery, New York. All of the contents of the gallery were emptied out into the main exhibition space, including the office. All doors (to office, storage rooms, cabinets, toilet, etc.) were removed from their frames to open and empty out hidden spaces. The office emptied out is then timed into a social/meeting space with two pots of curry (one red curry, one green) and a pot of rice to offer the visitor on their lunch. (The windows in an office play a significant role as external/internal can be viewed). On display in the office are the ingredients of the meal plus the remains from the cooking and eating process (which later becomes documentation of the situation at hand). The cooking and food for the first time (there were other projects previous to this, which occurred for only one evening or just for the opening of exhibition) is made continuously through the duration of the exhibition. The gallery office space became a central meeting point and rest stop for many regular visitors to SoHo. “(Free)” in this particular situation could signify the emptying of context/content. From exhibition to non-exhibit of place/non-place. “(Free)” could also be read as open—-or as plain and simple as no charge for the situation (free food).
HUO: Very quickly, you also developed more and more complex environments for these encounters. Could you tell me, for instance, about your tearoom at Exit Art in New York in 1993?
RT: It was [Untitled 1993 (The Cure)] and it was in a group show called “Fever.” In response to the context of “Fever,” I built a tea tent using a material with the color of Thai Buddhist monks’ robes: golden orange. The dimensions of the tent were made to the specifications of a Japanese tearoom—-measuring ten-by-ten-by-ten-feet. The measurement the Japanese got is derived from a Buddhist scripture—-which is the measurement of a room in which the Lord Buddha gave sermon to 40,000 monks (mind over matter). Tea plus water plus kettle plus teapots with a table and chair were set into the tent. The door of the tent faces a window—-inside the space the exhibition is blocked out of view. Tea, being a drink of medicinal quality (and for me with cultural significance) was to become an antidote to the “Fever” and a space for rest, contemplation, etc.
HUO: Another type of environment like this one is the one that took place this summer at the Biennale di Venezia (“Aperto 93,” La Biennale di Venezia, 45th International Art Exhibition, 1993).
RT: It was [Untitled 1993 (twelve seventy one)]. “Twelve seventy one” because it was the year Marco Polo had set off to the Far East from Venice. The centerpiece to this project is an aluminum canoe—-the canoe being an image of Native America—-and inside the canoe are two pots filled with water, which are being boiled-so there is water also in the canoe itself. The image of boats with food being cooked in them are drawn from Thailand. And accompanying the canoe are local cafe tables—-and fold out stools put out to be used by the visitors to the Aperto. There are also Cup ‘O Noodles in boxes that were shipped in from the U.S. and that were made by a Japanese company in California, and these cups of noodles were left for the visitors to help themselves as they are instantly cooked. This situation lasted as long as there were noodles for the viewers to consume (this did not take too long). The remains were left as evidence of the event. I had used Venice as a focus for the piece-which was a collage of place, mythologies (Marco Polo and the pasta from the Orient), hybrids of culture, tourism. And this also provided a possible place for rest and passage in the context of the exhibition.
2] Mexico City, ten years later…
HUO: Your exhibition at the Secession (Vienna, 2002) is based on Rudolf Schindler’s house in Los Angels, his house on Kings Road in Los Angeles, built in 1921-1922; your idea was to install a reconstruction of the studio of the Schindler House in the main room of the Secession and use this as a stage for various activities, as a venue for a multimedia program including film screenings, concerts, presentations and lectures. Your idea is to antimate Schindler’s world of ideas, his concept of inside and outside in relation to the conditions of private and public spaces, but not in a nostalgic way in the sense that you are taking it as a frame for your own ideas on relationships and communities, and your characteristic conception of art as an investigation and implementation of “living well.” Do you see it as a station?
RT: I see the idea of the station in the sense of a platform where people have to come together at one point before going off to different divergent positions again. The station is a place where, while you’re waiting, there could be an insertion of a program into the station that the people passing through interact with.
HUO: And it’s a contemporary form of relay, like in old times when on a journey, the horses got water and travelers got food.
RT: Exactly. It is a place where you rest, but at the same time you pick up more information. But of course, it’s a different kind of absorption when you’re resting and getting information than when you’re focusing just for the sake of getting information. But I think what’s interesting about this demonstration is a culmination of different modes of presentation of both art and non-art.
HUO: You spoke about another project of yours designed like a station in Japan.
RT: The show is at the Asahi beer space [Untitled, 2002 (demo station No.3), Sumida Riverside Hall Gallery—-Asahi Beer Arts Foundation, 2002]. It’s a space, which is programmed; there is a list of people who come and use the space. It’s the same as I did in Portikus when we had a big unscheduled program that people knew about and they came to [Untitled, 2001 (Demo Station No 1), Portikus, Frankfurt]. I think there are also possibilities for things to happen when there is nothing happening, so that other people can come in and actually take it over and use it.
HUO.. A bit like in your Whitney installation when there was nothing; you just set up musical instruments, inviting museumgoers to make impromptu jam sessions (1995 Biennial Exhibition, Whitney Museum of America Art, New York).
RT: Exactly, people who know that it’s there can come and use it because they know that it is there. But I think that is a way to have both possibilities of presentation, so that it is static at the same time as being active.
HUO: And an acceleration and a slowness, a new slowness.
RT: “A new slowness,” that’s a good idea. There has always been a discussion about speed, but there’s a speed at which you can think and a speed at which you cannot. I like the idea of always moving and thinking, not always just moving. It could just be in one place.
HUO: I heard rumors that you’re going to do a big summer academy in Frankfurt. Will this also be a station?
RT: Well, it is definitely developing out of the station idea. It’s more of an academy, but having been through that situation in Portikus, I think that it would be an amazing thing to do. You could make a station where all the young students could come to. It would be like a jamboree.
HUO: A jamboree?
RT: It’s a term that they use for the scouts, when all the scouts come together from all around the world. But that was like the Utopia of the ’70s. I always wanted to go to a jamboree.
HUO: And you were a scout?
RT: For a short time. I think as a young boy, the image of scouting was very important.
HUO: You said that there is a sense of “no future” in New York, which is perhaps a global climate also. I think it is important that, for our venice project (“Utopia Staion,” La Biennale di Venezia, 50th International Exhibition, 2003) we can provide a platform in a non-nostalgic and non-naive way, a platform of hope and of change. It is very important that there is a generosity and that we do not prescribe Utopia.
RT: Absolutely not. I think it’s impossible. What interested me in this funny discussion yesterday was that there was one paper, which was presented which was about the idea of difference and otherness, and the person actually used a description of the idea as strangeness: “the others are strange,” which was a way to make a low structure towards the sophistication of difference. I thought that was quite interesting, and my explanation of my anti-globalistic idea is that globalism doesn’t really work because it’s just a skin, a skin which gives you the excuse of not understanding the other even more. And through that conversation, it struck me that the idea of Utopia is really the idea of understanding difference. And the failures—-I think these previously modeled utopian conditions have always been in a kind of conformity of ideas, which is to say that somehow everyone should become one cohesive structure, one cohesive consciousness, and that would bring with it a sense of freedom. But I think that this is impossible, and the reason why it will fail. I think that the possibility should be about understanding difference, which is something I think would be difficult for the western hegemony and the Eurocentric structures to open up to, even though they talk about globalization. I think it is very interesting in relation to the idea of hunger, because I think that is part of the economy that…
HUO: Here is an article I read in this morning paper: “La lutte contre la faim dans le monde est en echec (the fight against hunger in the world is about to fail). Starvation again threatens Austral-Africa. 800 million human beings are hungry everyday, and half of humans suffer from lack of food. In 1996, the rules of the world made an engagement to reduce this figure by six million per year, the number of people who are undernourished. The agriculture of thesouthern countries is unable to nourish the population. The reason for this are a lack of water, wars, and lack of organization of these countries’ resources. The United Nations organization for alimentation and agriculture says that many more clear that if this situation continues, the world economic system which already witnesses a strong disequilibrium between the North and the South would have a big role for the destruction of the South. The disequilibrium comes from unequal exchange. The North asks the South to abolish the frontiers for industrial products, bank products, and agricultural products… “
RT: … which is globalization.
HUO: “… and at the same time it closes its doors to exports from the South, eroding its landscape by subventions which are higher and higher. So it basically makes a lobby of its own agriculture. This way, foods or cereals from the south are prevented from entering this market but the beef from the northern markets gets to African markets, doubling prices and leading to the ruin of the local producers and hence destroying the local economy. The recent decision of President George W. Bush to augment $190 billion for ten years would mean 80% of the subsidies sent from Washington to American agriculture are, in this context, catastrophic. Contrary to all the promises made by all the American authorities themselves on the occasion of the OMC summit in Goa last year, it will reinforce even more than ever the disequilibrium of the markets. But above all, it will break the small amount of hope, of consciousness which could be borne out of the capital of the North on the misdeeds of the global agricultural system. The message of cold egoism which risks serving as a justification for other countries in the North to reinforce even more their own agricultural aids. The U.S. is a bad example. It could be in Europe, in france. Jacques Chirac blocks all kinds of reform. Poverty and starvation forewarns them of this fake free exchange. Fake free exchange is a bigger reason for poverty and starvation than the decline in development aid. Now the drama is that the subsidies in the North are not enough in order to avoid the situation where more and more peasants abandon their wares in the United States as in Europe. So at the end, the producers of the South and the North are ruined.”
RT: So it’s like the subsidies are actually to keep farmers from farming. The idea is to give money to people so that they don’t do anything on their farms because there’s too much produce. I’ve read similar things in which money is not given to the South but rather their products are bought. But I think this is a funny humanistic idea of global economy, and it’s always going one way and never the other. You can look at the movements of people and you can see who is going where.
HUO.. A new kinetic elite —- being able to travel.
RT: People say to me, “Why don’t you just get an American passport?”
HUO: What is your passport?
RT: Thai. And I would say it would be a lot easier for me to travel but it would also mean that I would no longer recognize the fact that I have to struggle to move around. I would rather struggle to move around, to a point where I also don’t feel I need to be anywhere. If there is a wall there, obviously there will always be people behind that wall who want me to go. But those people are going to have to recognize the fact that there is a wall and they’re going to have to deal with that.
HUO: So you have a lot of trouble at customs?
RT: Yes, generally. Every two years I have to get a new visa to be in Germany, which gives me some freedom around Europe. But I can’t go to England today-I have to go and get a visa. I can’t go to Tokyo instantly or to America. It’s collapsing. Places that used to be free are now demanding more. It’s like Scandinavia, which used to be a much more open and free place, but now you have to have a visa to go there…
HUO: Obviously, there is a link between this “geo-political” situation and the way you are developing projects of stations. Where did this idea of the station come from? —- because you haven’t used the term until recently…
RT: No, it is recent, and it came from the magazine (oVER Magazine). The idea of the magazine was that it was a publishing station (Namdee Publishing Station, Bangkok). I was very interested in the idea of publishing as an activity. I think publishing is a future activity, which can connect this kind of thinking to a bigger field and other structures. Publishing can be many things; it can be an object, a text, sound…
HUO: … broadcasting, like you do through the “oVER Channel”…
RT: Yes, so I wanted to move my idea of activity to publishing, and not just as an individual but as a collective.
HUO: And where did the name Namdee come from?
RT: I think there was a Surrealist or Dadaist magazine called Spleen, and Namdee is Thai for spleen. But it also plays on itself because it means “clean water.” Clean water is a calming thing for Thai people, and of course, it is a place that gathers and then disperses.
HUO: And the station still exists in Bangkok?
RT: Yes, so the office is there for the station. Then I was trying to use that idea of the station to move it around in relation to the magazine. The other side of that coin that I’m working on is the idea of demonstration. Even though there’s this sense of “no future,” there is a great deal of activism going on.
HUO: Not in the art world.
RT: Not in the art world, but elsewhere. And I think I’m trying to recognize that. I’ve been collecting images of lots of demonstrations.
HUO: You have constituted an archive?
RT: Yes, it’s in Bangkok. Then a young artist is making drawings of them. It’s like the way he survives-it’s like a job for him. And that’s also part of the Station, to connect people from outside to people there, to create an economic exchange structure. And it’s particular interesting to do so in Thailand, because there are of course lots of people going into art school trying to become artists but there is absolutely no structure for artists.
HUO: But there is the project of having a private museum there.
RT: Well, I’ve been talking with this man literally for four years.
HUO: He came to my office in Paris last week.
RT: This man was hoping to work with Rem Koolhaas because he wants a building that will be famous. I said the most interesting thing would be to get an artist to design his museum for him. I suggested he talk with Jorge Pardo about it, but he wasn’t sure about that. Then I asked Philippe [Parreno] and Fransois [Roche] to come over to look at “The Land” because they were going to work together on this structure for “Utopia.” So they came and had a look, and had some ideas. Then the night before they were leaving town we went to a party at a club. This man was there with some other friends. He came over and started talking to me about the museum some more. I suggested he speak to a couple of friends. It was a coincidence really. I had already thought it would be interesting for Fransois to come to Thailand because I think his ideas are really interesting. Also, to understand this idea of the periphery—- there are a lot more possibilities of doing things that you could never do in the center. It should be a lab. So this man talked to Francois and Philippe and went and checked out the web site of Francois. The next morning they ere and looked at “The Land,” they talked more. And then Francois made a design and they were very happy about it.
HUO: And now he wants to build it?
RT: Yes, he would like to build it. I’m sure he would build it tomorrow if he could.
HUO: When they came to my office, I asked when the museum would open. Francois said that it would perhaps be 2003 or 2004.
RT: These things take time.
HUO: Can you tell me about your large-scale collaborative and transdisciplinary project “The Land”?
RT: First, I would say that it’s not my land. It’s just “The Land” itself.
HUO: When was the project initiated and who owns “The Land”?
RT: It was in 1998. “The Land” was the merging of ideas by different artists to cultivate a place of and for social engagement. It’s been acquired in the name of artists who live in Chiang Mai. We purchased this plot of land, in the village of Sanpatong, near Chiang Mai, and we’ve been trying to find a way to turn it into a collective and to have the property owned by no one in particular. But really, that’s one of the hardest things to do in Thailand. We cannot be a foundation. “The Land” is not a property.
HUO: But to what extent would you define it as a project?
RT: We don’t want to have to deal with it as a presentation to the art structures, because I think it should be neutral; and, it’s also one of the reasons why it’s not about property. It was started without the concept of ownership and is cultivated using traditional Thai farming techniques. In the middle of “The Land” are two working rice fields, monitored by a group of students from the University of Chiang Mai and a local village. The harvest is shared by all of the participants involved and some local families suffering from the AIDS epidemic.
HUO: Though initiated not solely as structures to be designed, built, and used by artists, most of the architectural projects on “The Land” to date are being developed by such, no?
RT: A gardener house was build by Kamin [Lerdchaiprasert], and the collaborative Superflex developed a system for the production of biogas. There is no electricity or water, as it would be problematic in terms of land development in the area. Superflex have made experimentations to use natural renewable resources as alternative sources for electricity and gas.
HUO: “Supergas.”
RT: Exactly. Superflex is using “The Land” as a lab for the development of a biogas system. The gas produced will be used for the stoves in the kitchen, as well as lamps for light.
HUO: And what is your own architectural contribution to “The Land”?
RT: I designed a house based on “the three spheres of needs”: the lower floor is a communal space with a fireplace; it’s the place of accommodation, gathering, and exchanges; the second floor is for reading and meditation and reflection on the exchanges; the top floor for sleep.
HUO: “The Land” is something of a “massive-scale artist-run space” in which artists of all kinds are offered the chance to exceed the boundaries of their discipline, to construct works they may not have otherwise imagined, and to allow these works to be developed and experienced in an atypical way. Who are the other artists involved in the project? RT: Tobias [Rehberger], Alicia [Framis], and Karl [Holmqvist] have worked on housing structures, Philippe and Fransois are making plans for a central activity hall that will function as a biotechnology-driven hyper-plug. Their [Plug in Station] uses nature to produce the interface: it will make use of a satellite downlink and a live elephant will generate the necessary power. And then [Peter] Fischli and [David] Weiss’s project is a small office building for Chiang Mai, and Atelier van Lieshout developed a toilet system, Arthur Meyer constructed a system for harnessing solar power, Prachya Phintong put in place a program for fish farming and a water library, Mit Jai In develops tree plants to be later turned into baskets.
HUO.. Are there people already coming to visit “The Land” for reasons other than because they have been invited to participate in the project?
RT: A lot of people are visiting it and have been staying there even though it’s not quite ready.
HUO: So it’s already functioning as a station…
RT: Yes, as a self-sustaining station. All structures are for open use.
HUO: What is the time span?
RT: The thing I would say is that there is no time span, there is no beginning, there is no end. It’s a constant, like time itself. And because we’re not faced with problems of property or ownership, we don’t ever have to feel obliged to finish or have any success in a way.
HUO: This is a logic that you’ve been trying to bring into the exhibition realm as well like with your installation at the Secession in Vienna, and already a few years before with the Cologne show, where you reproduced your New York apartment including the kitchen and bathroom at the Kunstverein in Cologne and required these rooms to be open 24-hours a day [Untitled 1996 (tomorrow is another day)].
RT: For the one in Vienna now, we’re basically going to build it through the “opening” so that there is no opening. There has never really been an opening for me. And I never feel the need to fix a moment where everything is complete.
HUO: You’re also been doing this project using models of [Ludwig] Mies van der Rohe’s [Seagram Building] (New York, 1954 - 1958) and his [Neue National Galerie] (Berlin, 1956 - 1968)…
RT: Actually I’ve been making this half-scale structure, a half-scale pavilion, but it’s kind of like those Russian dolls, so there’s the pavilion, and then inside that there’s the [Neue National Galerie], and then inside that there’s the [Seagram tower].
HUO: So it’s a building within a building within a building.
RT: Yes, but the biggest building he made…
HUO: … is the smallest.
RT: And also I wanted to make a progression from private to corporate, which is what happened to Mies in a way; he went from a very ideological structure to a corporate American structure. I wanted to have a Barcelona chair inside which would act as Mies, so he’s sitting in this pavilion, looking at all these things, and there’s a radio on playing “The Life of Mies,” which is a radio play.
HUO: Read by whom?
RT: Actors.
HUO: And this is an existing radio play?
RT: No, I’d make it up.
HUO: And that’s a whole show then?
RT: Yes.
HUO: And where will that be?
RT: I haven’t got a place for it, just an idea. I’m fascinated by Mies and I’m also fascinated by the contradictions of the movement.
HUO: But for Vienna, you’re focusing on Shindler?
RT: Yes, it’s something I’d been planning for a long time, even before the MoCA retrospective (“The Architecture of R.M. Schindler,” Museum of Contemporary Arts, Los Angeles, 2001).
HUO: And why are you interested in Shindler?
RT: Because I think that he’s an underground architect.
HUO: More than [Richard] Neutra.
RT: Much more than Neutra. He’s the opposite. Neutra really worked with Schindler. Schindler was in LA and Neutra came and stayed with him and they were starting on a Partnership and then they broke up. Then Neutra became successful because he was very ambitious too. Schindler for me is very interesting.
HUO: About your Secession exhibition, you also made references to the market and to the dance floor, which are also kinds of stations.
RT: Well, I was thinking about all the markets I have been to, such as in the Light Market in Thailand where people come and socialize. And the idea of the dance floor is a place of socialization through music and dancing. Then there’s this market in Brazil where people arrive from the countryside and it’s a huge open space where people from the countryside and can bring their food. I think that is an interesting way to think about the relationship between art and hunger. The people who work at the market have to get up at around two or three o’clock in the morning. People also go there at that time of the night to eat and somehow to participate in the entertainment that these people provide for themselves at the markets. There is a stall where people are sleeping after they have set up their meat. And then there are people who sit together and drink.
HUO: Where is this market?
RT: In Rio. But it’s the same in many places. It’s about the farmer’s market really, about people coming in from the countryside. Some people have to drive all through the night to get there. The kiosks also make me think about the idea of the station. Before you go, you need to pick up some things. So, we’re talking about some kind of space that is accommodating to the passage. At the Secession, it’s more a semi-station in fact.
HUO: A semi-station?
RT: Yes, it’s a semi-station in the sense that I would like to think of it more as a kind of park or a garden. That’s something that I’ve been quite interested in, its interiority and exteriority, and ideas of nature and living, inside and outside. It’s more like living outside, closer to camping, so really it’s a kind of semi-station because it’s about the “outside space” rather than the “passage space” which is the station. I would say that semi-stations are more a place to rest than a lot of other spaces.
HUO: And so for the moment it’s a platform, and a platform of interaction that is also a platform on which a house will be built.
RT: Yes, it’s the foundation of a house, but the house itself is based on the idea of the “exterior.” There is very little “interior” in a sense, presenting you with the interior so that you can experience it outside. And of course, in this case, one night of the week the space will be open all night so that people can come and spend the night there.
HUO: For the show at the Secession, the idea is that it’s the foundations for a house but at the same time there are the plants, the palms, which bring the outside inside and vice-versa.
RT: Yes, of course. All things together in life! Which is interesting, and particularly interesting in relation to [Marcel] Broodthaers, although I’m not entirely sure why. And again, maybe it’s the same sensibility that I also think about Schindler. There’s an interesting relationship there. Schindler’s garden plan is very symmetrical, and I don’t remember thinking about it, but it struck me that I don’t think Broodthaers would have made such a symmetrical plan.
HUO: And how do you feel about Philippe Parreno’s interests in evoking the collectivity? One of the ideas for the “Venice Station” is bringing in people, whether alive or dead. Here you are talking of bringing in Schindler and indirectly broodthaers, but at the same time there are videos of people who are working now: so there is also this dimension to consider.
RT: Yes. Well, I think that’s interesting because of the idea of working with the vernacular.
HUO: And because nothing is new anymore.
RT: I think it’s not so much a matter of nothing being new anymore, but that there are important ideas that have already been made. And rather than trying to represent it, to present the things that already exist. So that’s why I have been personally interested in collectivity; there are a lot of ideas already out there. We need to realize that it is part of our consciousness of reality. It’s a presentation of the author, perhaps in a different kind of condition because times have often changed, but I think it’s always important to look back at those ideas.
HUO: In terms of collaboration and bilateral exchange rather than appropriation, Kurt Schwitters talked about the Merzbau (1923-1943) as a sort of shrine of friendship.
RT: I think it’s a good word and a good starting point. That’s also something that was interesting in the interview that you did with [Peter] Smithson when you were talking about shows and how they’re about collective friendships that come about and go away, oscillating.
HUO: What would you say are the best group shows that you have been in?
RT: I’ve been thinking about that and I think that they were all early on. “Backstage” was a formative group show for me (“Backstage,” Hamburger Kunstverein, Hamburg, 1993). And as you say, it’s the kind of situation where we all had the energy and we all had the sense. That was a show that we really enjoyed together. The group shows I enjoy are generally not so big. Firstly they weren’t such big group shows, and then secondly there were always relations amongst the people who were in the exhibition. Always creating relations, people meeting people.
This interview is available on “Interviews Volume 1” by Hans Ulrich Obrist.
