A simple continuation of my latest reflections and thoughts on my readings:
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about materiality in art. In the Anglo-Saxon world, what’s called Technical Art History (I’m thinking of Erma Hermens’ 2012 definition) really digs into the object itself — its materials, its making, the artist’s original intentions, the historical context, how it’s been received over time. It’s a field that sits at the crossroads of art history, conservation, and science, and it’s brought a renewed attention to the physical life of artworks.
But that sits in tension with something else I keep circling back to — the dematerialization of art in the contemporary sphere. Conceptualism shifted everything. Suddenly, the idea mattered more than the object. The artwork could be just a gesture, a phrase, a proposal. And with the rise of delegation — assistants, studios, fabrication — I keep wondering: does matter still matter?
I don’t think the answer is clean-cut. So many works today still draw meaning from the stuff they’re made of. I recently read an article by Regina De Con Cossío that made this point beautifully — about how texture, density, and the origin of materials can carry weight. Not just physical, but symbolic. Sensory. Emotional, even.
Some call it the “material turn.” A kind of coming back to the thingness of things. There’s this growing attention to objects as sites of perception — not just to be seen, but felt. Michael Ann Holly has this lovely line: “Works of art are wrapped round by their own materiality, to which embodied spectators respond.” It lingers with me.
Material isn’t just passive support. It shapes the whole aesthetic encounter. It engages the eyes, sure, but also the skin, the nose, the body. It echoes intentions, contexts, histories. I think of Baxandall and his work on German Renaissance sculpture — how artists chose linden wood not just for technical ease, but because of what it meant culturally. Or Nil Yalter using butcher paper from Turkey in Deniz Gezmiş (1972) — a material full of memory, weight, implication. Thomas Raff calls it materialikonologie — a kind of iconology of materials. Alfred Gell goes even further, speaking of the agency of materials — their power to move, provoke, affect.
Deniz Gezmiş (1972) by Nil Yalter. Details.
Reclaiming matter means reclaiming presence. It shifts our attention — away from the aura of the “masterpiece,” toward the lived histories of objects. Materiality doesn’t cancel out the conceptual. On the contrary — it’s what gives the concept form, weight, texture. It makes the idea real.
Alright Anaïs, time to start writing now! But seriously… yes, I had a great meeting with Nil on Sunday and we agreed on the book’s structure. I’ll tell you everything in three weeks.
Temporary Dwellings, Nil Yalter (1974). Details.