Eric Angenot

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The sculptures designed and produced by Eric Angenot can seem disturbing, and give rise to a host of questions. Take his mysteriously aggressive Modernist Survivors or Elements, resembling pieces of jigsaw; or the suggestive Organismes, evoking a virtual reality halfway between the organic and the mechanical.

The surface ambiguity of these works is intriguing. Apart from the neutral colour used for Elements, the choice of coating these works in paint gives the other series a contradictory feel. Some of the spiky Modernist Survivors look like camouflaged weapons. Despite steel handles and chains inviting bodily contact, additional protective elements (elbow pads, metal grill, helmet, harness)—and sometimes "tattoos" of flowers with medicinal qualities—give these works an equivocal feel, blending strength and potential fragility.

As the name suggests, Organismes are linked more directly to living creatures. But which? We can imagine that these objects as the products of the sort of parallel reality we find in the Wachowski brothers' Matrix trilogy, or even more in Cronenberg's film eXistenZ. The flesh colour, sometimes with veins, just needs to shudder into life. The more we look at them, the more we have our doubts, as they too have chains and handles…

Cécilia Bezzan

My recent discussion with Eric Angenot helps us understand the aesthetic ambiguity of his work, and casts light on its concerns about society and identity.

Spatial relationships have always been present in my work, even when I was painting images. I've always been interested in the interaction between painting and the exhibition space, as practised by the Neo-Geo and others. I used to make my own stretchers with specific forms or formats. So switching to sculpture came naturally, from a growing wish to be independent of the painted form.

In Elements I worked on the break-up of the surface, using geometric or organic models (wood parasites, crystallizations, various types of destruction). Modernist Survivors derived from this. I had opened a sort of huge worksite then, at a given time, the process began to turn into a series as one piece led on to another. I wanted to go a step further and move on to sculpture and autonomous forms.

Somewhat surprisingly, each sculpture from Modernist Survivors has a person's name, while those from Organismes evoke the human condition. What are the reasons behind this?

Both series come from the same matrix. Initially, Organismes was a sort of log book, proceeding from a work logic close to that of a nameless self-portrait. Each piece corresponded to a metamorphosis, reflecting states of mind, a way of feeling and being… In this series, the relationship with the body is more effective, if only through the flesh colour and the titles (Real Man, Hypersensitive, Alive & Tired, Naked, Stress).

I remember, for instance, that Real Man was produced with great speed and energy, coinciding with a need for almost instantaneous expression. These pieces also deal with the idea of growing old and the decline of the perfect body. Without referring to this directly, the sculptures embody daily life, giving form to existential reflection.

Modernist Survivors is an evocative title. What does it mean exactly?

To me, Modernist Survivors comes from the relation with forms of Modernity. I was greatly inspired by Picasso's forms or those in Léger's drawings. When, for example, Picasso moved on to abstraction, he still kept the body in mind. Similarly, I find some aspects of Léger's formal language from the 1920s and '30s extremely contemporary. I am thinking above all of his drawings, in which he produces a symbiosis between the mechanical and the organic by articulating keys, holly, roots or bolts. I didn't see principles of radical Modernity here, but rather those of a research laboratory, not that far from concerns about existence or identity. These references were very close to me, but I couldn't see them in the questioning of the art around me. So I needed to be confronted with the intrinsic quality of the modern approach, and this prompted me to wonder how I could appropriate aspects of its formal grammar for myself, while respecting and defending aspects of my varied contemporary underground culture, including techno, rock and comics. So a sort of mix resulted. The first names used in Modernist Survivors are those of major figures in Modernist history, like Theodor Adorno, Frank Stella, Barbara Hepworth, etc. It is not a tribute, but a sort of inheritance, an easy transformation that takes as pretext the justifiable presence of a tenuous link.

Let's talk about the ability of form to express itself over and above its status. For all their mystery, I find that your sculptures engage a dialogue fairly distinctly. Their metaphorical potential is striking.

I grew up in contact with modern Social Democrat ideals. They were a powerful influence. When everything collapsed at the end of the 1980s, the fall of the Berlin Wall and decline of the major ideologies undermined modernist beliefs and wrought profound changes in the systems of values. I do not wish to judge the post-modern consequences, but I was and still am affected by this shattered stability. How can we reconstruct a worthwhile system of values in the complexity of today's world?

From the moment that painting left the flat surface to become a volume-covering surface, I wondered how a structure could be reinforced or undermined by appearance. In other words, to put it in a human context, how do appearances in a social context contradict who you really are? How important are our ideas and what we put between ourselves and others?

Before being "modern," the forms you produce come from nature. We are born to be "cultured"—classifying and assessing things historically and culturally. Otherwise the impression they create has more to do with futuristic Sci-Fi objects.

My work should be interpreted equivocally, not univocally. Despite all the references, the analytical process is more like observing as you go along, albeit incorporating certain codes. Forms search for their identity and seek contradictory styles. I'm interested in what's in-between—between painting and sculpture, or between the abstract and the figurative. I defend the richness to be found in encounters between disciplines, and in the mix between modern vocabulary and the vocabulary of counter-cultures or micro-cultures.

The lack of definition that results from such a clash of styles is fascinating. Although form exists, we do not know where it belongs ideologically. And moral unease interests me, with its potential for imagination and the ambiguity it creates. The era I come from had high moral standards, which my generation weren't able to keep. To me, these works embody the dialectics of minorities. Although there's something uniform about them, they're all different. Each work and each coating is different.

Modernist Survivors has a real ambiguity that is hard to resolve, which is a bit disturbing. Are these works defensive or aggressive?

Ambiguity is crucial. Form results from the need to protect oneself, as reflected by the added exterior elements: elbow-pads, knee-pads, protective grill, harness, etc. Isn't being aggressive actually to be defensive? My sculptures examine how a structure can be completely altered by a need for protection, and how external elements can transform what's inside.

Then there are the various types of camouflage used in Modernist Survivors. Camouflage as we know it dates from World War One—contemporary with the artistic avant-garde. And many artists worked with camouflage. In modern culture we find camouflage in every area of society—on the sleeves of rap CDs, on leather fashion goods, worn by “travellers” and hunters.... Trying to identify the ideology behind the look is something that interests me.

In my work, large, aggressive pieces rub shoulders with small, rounded ones, all covered in camouflage patterns. The forms and their coating have a metaphorical value to define how our societies function. We all have to struggle socially, but our struggles are not all equal. And what is struggle today compared to the collective struggles that marked the 20th century?

There is no set way to present your sculptures. They can be hung on the wall or from the ceiling, or placed on the floor or on a stand. To me, this determines their autonomy.

There's no perfect method, no. That's all part of their ambiguity. If there was just one way of displaying these sculptures, they would be gagged, and that would affect our reaction to them. In a way this also concerns their equivocal defensive/aggressive aspect. Because we're not sure how to display them, they exude a versatility that counterbalances content and meaning.

Some of your work verges on Design. Sometimes I feel as if I'm looking at a mutant Alessi potato-peeler!

(laughter) Yes, I know what you mean! In a way, household goods are never far away. I'm interested in the links with Design for the lack of definition that results, doubtless linked to the current metamorphosis of individual values and the lack of discrimination. Design's place in everyday life and its impact on the contemporary world are very important. Minimalism has been absorbed by Design; IKEA sell monochromes in kit-form. Serious artistic culture is reduced to the rank of a decorative makeweight in the name of "good taste." It's a major cultural transformation.

Our homes are gradually but relentlessly being invaded by the aesthetics of decorum, affecting everything that used to be the domain of strong counter-cultures. The introduction of codes of etiquette is so pregnant that the artificial aspect that results is crazy, like a sort of "friendly fascism."

When I was wondering about how resilient artistic values have been applied to merchandise, I thought it would be interesting to produce forms that quote from Design yet shun its functional aspect: forms that deliberately assume their superfluous, problematic status.

Beyond the evocative possibility of degenerate Design rendering function obsolete, does your work tell a story? Take Barbara from Modernist Survivors, for instance. This seems to be both a destructured rocking-horse bemoaning a war-torn childhood, and an object that tells a tale. The distinctive white dog-rose tattoo is both humane yet disturbing.

These works do not tell stories, but their fiction-producing potential interests me. When placed in an everyday environment they are hard to define. What are they about? Where do they come from? How can they be used? The answers are many and varied. There is doubt. We find ourselves hovering between reality and fantasy.

The proximity of the objects around us, allied to a lack of definition, is important. I am interested in the interaction between sculpture and the space around it—with painting this is virtually non-existent, given its isolated flatness. The ambiguity that results from this special status enables us to envisage various functions, without confining them.

Cecilia Bezzan (born 1972) is an independent art critic and historian. She lives and works in Paris