Vija Celmins at the Hammer Museum

by Garrison Frost

I recall a lot about the first time I ever saw a drawing by Vija Celmins in person. It was years ago, attending an exhibition at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I can’t remember if the drawing – one of the artist’s ocean works – was part of the exhibition I was attending or part of LACMA’s permanent collection. I was in that second story gallery that hosts temporary exhibitions that sometimes blends right into the main art museum. Given that the drawing was in a nondescript corner of the room, I tend to think I was in the main museum.

Regardless, upon encountering the piece, I was immediately drawn to it by its simplicity. Works by other artists tend to be of things, but this was very different. Of course, my immediate impression was that it was a nice photograph. But then I took a closer look, checked the description on the wall and released a silent, “Oh, well, shit.” For people with an artistic bent, trips to the museum tend to be inspirational, prompting all kinds of ideas and connections, new commitments and techniques. But to a lot of people who think of themselves as artists – most of them, really – the sight of a Vija Celmins drawing typically just makes them want to go home and lie down.

Most artists, when they’re looking at art by other people, like to think about how it was done, and in turn tell themselves that they could have done it, perhaps even better than the actual artist. Well, that’s not possible with Celmins. Bottom line: You can’t do this. You will never be able to do this. This is way out of your range.

Ever since that first encounter with that Celmins’ drawing, I’ve been fascinated with the artist’s work. I love it because it doesn’t fall into any particular category. Is it modern? Is it naturalistic? Is it figurative? Are these still lifes? Who knows? And the subject matter is so unusual, normal things elevated to such high levels.

But the thing that impressed me so much was the mysteriousness of the artist. From the first moment, I was struck by this quality. That name, what nationality was it? Was the artist male or female? Dead or alive? There’s something of the savant in these works, but I never took the time to learn more, enjoying the fact that there was this artist out there doing this stuff. The works themselves reveal nothing, and yet everything. For the most part, the works don’t reveal the hand of the artist – other than of course the fact that they’re freakin’ amazing. And what they do reveal of the artist’s mind, well, that’s just a riddle.

Sure, I never doubted that more information was there to find. It was always entirely possible to me that Celmins was not intentionally being mysterious, going on as an artistic recluse in the style of Thomas Pynchon. But I liked the way things looked to me and so I never took any measures to change that view. Really, I don’t want to know more about Vija Celmins.

So while I welcomed the new retrospective of Celmins’ drawings at the Hammer Museum, I was also a little frightened of what it might do to my appreciation of the artist. In addition to preserving the mystery of Celmins, I had also long perfected a strategy to always be surprised by her oeuvre. I didn’t look in books. I didn’t search the web. That way, whenever I came across something from Celmins that I hadn’t seen, it would be a revelation made all the better by the quality of chance. So, the idea of going to a retrospective and seeing everything posed a risk.

Which made it actually a relief when I discovered that the Hammer exhibit, while called a retrospective, is actually quite limited. Primarily, what the viewer find in the show are some of the artist’s major subject areas. There are the moonscapes, the ocean views, a few clouds, stars and galaxies, desert scapes, and found objects. Left out are some of her most fascinating works. I am thinking of the gun in hands, the warplanes, the windshields.

But that’s not to say that there aren’t some great pieces in the Hammer show. Really, if this were everything of note by this fantastic artist, this would be plenty. The oceans still mesmerize, particularly the larger pieces “Untitled (Big Sea #1) and Untitled (Big Sea #2). And while the stars and clouds and desert floors are remarkable, there will always be something about the found objects, the drawings of letters, clippings and photographs that will always be special.

Still, it’s nice to know that there are still plenty of Celmins out there to be discovered. I don’t want to know everything there is to know about this artist. But then again, of course I do.

(March 10, 2007)

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