Kippenberger
Page 49
Martin’s art was always about looking—about how you perceive the world, which is what he so admired about Krebber and Meuser and what others so admired about him. Meuser said Martin had x-ray vision uninhibited by reality—he saw things that no one else saw. He saw a mountainous landscape in a plate full of bratwurst, dumplings, and sauerkraut; he discovered funny patterns in the way the wires ran from the corner of a restaurant’s roof; even the remains of food on his plate seemed like a still life to him. “And you can’t paint anywhere near as beautifully as what you see around you.” He left behind a joke postcard in his studio in Jennersdorf, showing a rabbit in front of an empty canvas: “The prettiest picture that Moll ever made / was the picture he only imagined.”
If he did have a mission after all, it was this:
To take the things a person sees on the street and see them differently. And! Very Important! It can’t be educational! That’s the special art of it. You can’t hammer it into someone. To do that you need to turn your whole life into the foundation! And that’s where you have to start from yourself. That’s hard. That has nothing to do with the art market any more.
Martin answered the question of what art is by saying: “Everything that moves you. The visualization of being.” His favorite nonsensical construction project of all was one he conceived with Albert Oehlen and Werner Büttner, but it was much too expensive to make: a three-foot-long divided highway. “You could exit the highway and park your car and relax and look at this three-foot little highway. But it would have to be three lanes wide in each direction, with a median strip. With lots of little flowers.”
NOTE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION (2011)
One of Martin’s friends said that even after he died, he was more alive than most people who actually are alive. Posthumous fame, as he angrily said in his early years, didn’t interest him, but it would still have made him happy to learn that eleven years after his death a large photograph of him would appear in the Bild next to the Pope’s. On the left: Benedict XVI, praying. In the middle: Martin, an ironic, melancholy look on his face, his palms pressed together as though asking something from the Lord above—a photograph from his Helmut Berger phase. On the right: the garish green frog on the cross, with a beer stein in one hand and an egg in the other. The headline: “Art or Sacrilege? Pope Wants to Ban Crucified Frog from Museum.” The frog was hanging in the opening exhibition of the new Museum for Modern and Contemporary Art in Bolzano in the summer of 2008, and it was enough to generate an enormous controversy, lasting for months, in the conservative South Tirol region of Italy. A politician went on a hunger strike, protestors stood praying in front of the museum’s doors, other Catholics spoke up for artistic freedom; the director had to leave the museum a couple of months later (for exceeding the budget, supposedly).
In the end it turned out that the Pope himself was not the one who had answered the South Tiroleans’ pleas and personally protested the crucified frog—it was the Vatican Secretariat of State. But what difference did that make? Martin had gotten pretty far up the ladder toward Heaven either way.
And then he ended up on Olympus. “Kippenberger doesn’t hurt anyone in Potsdam any more,” the critic Harald Fricke had written in 1994 on the occasion of the Potsdamer Kunstverein show: “He has outlived himself.” On February 24, 2009, a day before what would have been Martin’s fifty-sixth birthday, a phenomenal retrospective opened at the Museum of Modern Art in New York after having first showed in Los Angeles: The Problem Perspective. Ann Goldstein of L.A.’s Museum of Contemporary Art curated the exhibition (and would soon afterward be named general artistic director of the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam), with the support of MoMA’s Ann Temkin; Martin’s Santa Claus with a streetlamp greeted visitors to MoMA, surrounded by works by Miró, Picasso, and Max Ernst. Out of all his shows and openings, this was probably the most moving moment: the high school dropout, whose painting Fricke had described as “a stockpile of banalities from seventies Karstadt culture,” among the great masters of modern art. The Happy End of Franz Kafka’s “Amerika” was shown to best effect in the giant lobby of the museum annex, and upstairs in the exhibition proper, his work was laid out in all its breadth, a web of paintings and drawings, sculptures (a reconstruction of the Peter exhibition), posters, books, postcards, photographs, and more.
The show was a blockbuster, with reviews to match. The critics were overwhelmed—they praised Martin’s radicalism and the uncomfortable, contradictory complexity of his work and personality. “A League of His Own” was the headline in the Los Angeles Times ; in the New York Times, he was praised for being the artist for our time, “meaning the model he sets for what an artist can be and do. His multitudinous recyclings, insubordinate temperament and generosity seem unexpectedly right for a non-party-time time.” In New York magazine, in a review called “The Artist Who Did Everything,” Jerry Saltz said that if Robert Rauschenberg was the American Picasso, Kippenberger is the German Rauschenberg. Even Peter Schjeldahl, whose review in The New Yorker was as hard on Martin as he had been during Martin’s lifetime (see p. 372 above), called the show one of the best of 2009 in his end-of-year list.
The public was just as excited about this artist who seemed so fresh, vital, and full of ideas. For many of them, Martin was a real discovery. He had had various exhibitions in the U.S., but his work had never been shown there in anything like the abundance offered by what the Süddeutsche Zeitung called “the first big American Kippenberger retrospective, overflowing and bursting with vitality.” He took another step toward Olympus in 2011, with the show “Kippenberger Meets Picasso” at the Picasso Museum in Malaga, Spain: the culmination of Martin’s lifelong engagement with Picasso’s work.
A happy ending?
Not entirely. A few months after the retrospective, Martin’s picture of the Paris Bar was auctioned at Christie’s for over $3.7 million. That was a wake-up call for Der Spiegel, which had never published a major piece about the artist now credited with producing “one of the most significant, and prescient, bodies of work from the postwar era” ( Artforum ) and “one of the most inventive and influential bodies of artwork” of his time ( Art in America ). So Der Spiegel put out a four-page hit piece by Nora Reinhardt, with all the old clichés about Martin as bad boy and boozer, someone who got others to make his work for him and was a petty and bad-tempered boss while doing it. She even called 2009 “the most successful year of his artistic activity,” not because of the major retrospective in L.A. and New York—which was not even mentioned—but because of the record prices his paintings were fetching at auction. As an artist, she wrote, he was a “punch-line manufacturer.”
It’s a good thing that there is no Happy Ending here—no ending at all. That Martin, even now, almost fifteen years after his death, can still disturb and provoke, still be misunderstood. Mistakes and misunderstandings were, in the end, closest to his heart. He continues to achieve, with his life and his art, what he always wanted: confusion.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We don’t see things the way they are, we see things the way we are—and as subjective as perception is, memory provides an additional filter. It is impossible to give an objective portrait of Martin and his life, we can only give approximations from our own perspectives. The perspective of this book is mine, but the picture I have made is a mosaic assembled from numerous documents and interviews.
I had the good fortune to come from a family of collectors. Nothing was thrown away. In Martin’s posthumous papers there are cards of congratulation he received after his confirmation, report cards, apartment leases, postcards, models for his artworks, the official document attesting to the Hamburg Shipping Board in 1969 that Martin had no criminal record; on my own bookshelves I discovered things I never knew I had, such as our parents’ love letters. The great pleasure that both our parents took in expressing and dramatizing themselves resulted in a wealth of photographic, visual, home-movie, and written material, including our father’s books and letters and our mother�
�s letters and articles (many of them given to me by her friends Wiltrud Roser and Christel Haasis). Much of what I learned about our mother’s family came from the writings of her youngest brother, Erich Leverkus.
Given his own enormous drive to communicate, Martin left relatively few original recordings of his life after his many letters from childhood and adolescence. He never appeared on talk shows, appeared only briefly on film recordings, and gave hardly any interviews. The most important source for me was the collection of conversations he had with Jutta Koether, and sometimes with Diedrich Diederichsen, for the book B. Gespräche mit Martin Kippenberger (B.: Interviews with Martin Kippenberger), edited by Gisela Capitain (Reihe Cantz, 1994). In addition, I have taken many quotes from his three other extensive interviews: the anonymous interview at the White Cross near Thomasburg in Artfan, No. 5, November 1991 (“collective editorial responsiblity is the rule in this fanzine”), which has now appeared in book form in English as Picture a Moon, Shining in the Sky: Conversation with Martin Kippenberber, tr. Micah Magee, with an editorial note by Ariane Müller (Starship, Berlin, rev. and ill. ed. 2010); “Martin Kippenberger Clean Thoughts,” with Marius Babias, in Artscribe No. 90, Feb./March 1992; and the interview with Daniel Baumann for the 1996 “Respective” in Geneva, reprinted in the catalog Martin Kippenberger, ed. Doris Krystof and Jessica Morgan (Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen, Hatje Cantz Verlag 2006).
Among Martin’s own books, I found the following especially helpful: Durch die Pubertät zum Erfolg [Through Puberty to Success] (Neue Gesellschaft für Bildende Kunst, Berlin, 1981); 1984. Wie es wirklich war am Beispiel Knokke. Mit einem Nachwort von Sophia Ungers: Der Tanz des Kippenbergers [1984: How It Really Was, Using the Example of Knokke. With an afterword by Sophia Ungers: “The Dance of the Kippenberger”] (Galerie Bärbel Grässlin, 1985); Café Central (Meterverlag, 1987); and Gelenke I [Joints I] (Edition Patricia Schwarz, 1989). They are all out of print (and have not been translated into English), but excerpts from the first three appear in the new volume Martin Kippenberger, Wie es wirklich war—am Beispiel Lyrik und Prosa [Martin Kippenberger, How It Really Was: Using the Example of Poems and Prose], ed. Diedrich Diederichsen (Suhrkamp Taschenbuch, 2007).
From his catalogs and illustrated volumes: Miete Strom Gas [Rent Electricity Gas] (Hessisches Landesmuseum Darmstadt, 1986); Werner Büttner, Martin Kippenberger, and Albert Oehlen, Wahrheit ist Arbeit [Truth Is Work] (Museum Folkwang Essen, 1984); Input-Output. Umzüge 1957–1988 [Input-Output: Moves, 1957–1988] (Galerie Gisela Capitain, 1989); Kippenberger, ed. Angelika Taschen and Burkhard Riemschneider (Taschen Verlag, 1991/1997/2003); Das 2. Sein/Kippenberger fanden wir schon immer gut [The 2nd Being/We Always Thought Kippenberger Was Great] (Sammlung Grässlin im Brandenburgischen Kunstverein Potsdam, 1994).
From the books and catalogs that have appeared since his death: Uwe Koch, Kommentiertes Werkverzeichnis der Bücher von Martin Kippenberger 1977–1997 (Buchhandlung Walther König, 2002), translated as Annotated Catalogue Raisonné of the Books by Martin Kippenberger (D.A.P., 2003); Martin Kippenberger: Die gesamten Plakate, 1977–1997 [Collected Posters] (Offizin Verlag, Buchhandlung Walther König, Kunsthaus Zürich, 1998); Martin Kippenberger (Kunsthalle Basel, Deichtorhallen Hamburg, 1998); Bei Nichtgefallen Gefühle zurück. Die gesamten Karten 1989–1997 [Satisfaction Guaranteed Or Your Feelings Back: The Collected Postcards, 1989–1997] (Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2000); Gitarren, die nicht Gudrun heißen [Guitars Not Named Gudrun], ed. Thomas Groetz (Galerie Max Hetzler/Holzwarth Publications, 2002); Kippenberger: Multiples (Kunstverein Braunschweig, Museum van Hedendaagse Kunst Antwerp, Buchhandlung Walther König, 2003); and Nach Kippenberger [After Kippenberger], ed. Eva Meyer-Hermann and Susanne Neuburger (Sammlung Moderner Kunst Wien, Van Abbemuseum Eindhoven, 2003).
People were Martin’s true context. That is why the illustrations in this book are primarily of people; images of his work can be found in his many catalogs.
The following published memoirs, reminiscences, and statements about Kippenberger by artists and friends were also important sources for me: those in Texte zur Kunst [Texts on Art], No. 26, June 1997; Tschau Mega Art Baby! [Ciao Mega Art Baby!], ed. Christina Thomas (www.christina-thomas.de); “The Happy End of Kippenberger’s Amerika as told to Gregory Williams” ( Artforum, Feb. 2003); “A Cacophony for a Formidable Artist” ( TATE ETC., Issue 6, Spring 2006); “Er wollte Picasso, Warhol und Beuys zusammen sein” [He Wanted to Be Picasso, Warhol, and Beuys Put Together] ( Die Welt, Feb. 5, 2006); Kippenberger: Der Film [Kippenberger: The Movie] by Jörg Kobel (2006).
Informative background information about various phases of Martin’s life can be found in Helge Schneider’s autobiography, Guten Tach. Auf Wiedersehn [Hallo. G’bye . ] (KiWi, 1992), on his childhood in Essen; Jürgen Teipels, “Doku-Roman über den deutschen Punk und New Wave” [Docu-Novel on German Punk and New Wave], in Verschwende Deine Jugend [Waste Your Youth] (Suhrkamp Taschenbuch, 2001); in the catalog lieber zu viel als zu wenig [Better Too Much Than Not Enough] (NGBK, 2003), on the Berlin years and the Düsseldorf scene; Michel Würthle’s Paris Bar Berlin (Quadriga Verlag, 2000); Siegfried Pater’s biography of Hans-Jürgen Müller (RETAP Verlag, 2006) on the Stuttgart and early Cologne period; Make Your Own Life: In and Out of Cologne, ed. Bennett Simpson (ICA Philadelphia, 2006), on Cologne; and “Mythos Lord Jim Loge” [The Legend of the Lord Jim Lodge] by Daniela Jauk and Andreas Unterweger, in Sexy Mythos (NGBK Berlin, 2006).
The most important sources for this book, however, were the interviews and conversations I conducted with the people who knew Martin. I was overwhelmed by the openness with which most of these people, many of whom I had never met or knew only from a distance, talked to me—not just about Martin but about themselves. Only two of his friends expressly refused requests for interviews, and a few other interviews were not able to take place for reasons of time. Note that several people, despite their important roles in Martin’s life, appear only marginally in this book, either because they feel more comfortable remaining in the background or because I could not do them justice: the closer the people who knew Martin were to me, the harder I found it to question them and to describe them impartially. Thus the frequency with which someone is quoted in this book does not necessarily reflect how close they were to Martin.
I spoke with Christel Haasis, Wiltrud Roser, Sebastian Roser, Jens Mendak, Christine Wansel, Tobias von Geiso, Dörte Warning, Klaus and Agnes Kippenberger, Christoph Kippenberger, Margit Kippenberger, Michael Kippenberger, Ulla Hurck, Lucia Avar, Barbara Avar, Ralph Drochner, Hanno Huth, Herbert Meese, Hans Meister, Jochen Krüger, Ina Barfuss, Thomas Wachweger, Gil Funccius, Inka Büttner (Hocke), Gisela Stelly-Augstein, Peter Preller, Brigitta Rohrbach, Claudia Skoda, Jenny Capitain, Klaus Krüger, Angelik Riemer, Reinhard Bock, Ulrike Ottinger, Achim Schächtele, Michel Würthle, Catherine Würthle, Uschi Welter, Attila Corbaci, Sven-Åke Johansson, Rüdiger Carl, Jutta Henglein, Barbara Straka, Peter Gente, Bruno Brunnet, Hans-Peter Feldmann, Rudolf Kicken, Uli Strothjohann, Rudolf Springer, Helmut Middendorf, Meuser, Carmen Knoebel, Imi Knoebel, Angelika Margull, Christel Buschmann, Albert Oehlen, Werner Büttner, Georg Herold, Hubert Kiecol, Max Hetzler, Hans-Jürgen Müller, Uli Knecht, Tanja Grunert, Bärbel Grässlin, Thomas Grässlin, Karola Grässlin, Anna Grässlin, Sabine Grässlin, Zdenek Felix, Rosemarie Trockel, Wilhelm Schürmann, Thomas Borgmann, Rudolf Zwirner, Walther König, Reiner Opoku, Andreas Schulze, Jutta Koether, Nanette Hagstotz, Charline von Heyl, Franz Keller, Vincent Moissonnier, Johann-Karl Schmidt, Klaus Honnef, Gabriele Honnef-Harling, Ursula Böckler, Andrea Stappert, Michael Krebber, Merlin Carpenter, Werner Peters, Christian Nagel, Daniel Buchholz, Esther Schipper, Gundel Gelbert, Hans Böhning, Heliod Spiekermann, Hubertus Spiekermann, Isabelle Graw, Johannes Wohnseifer, Burkhard Riemschneider, Tim Neuger, Günter Lorenz, Roberto Ohrt, Albrecht Fuchs, Peter Pakesch, Martin Prinzhorn, Didi Sattmann, Elisabeth Fiedler, Sabine Achleitner, Isabella Bleich-Rossi, Petra Schilcher, Alex Witasek, Christine Hahn, Janelle Reiring, Helene Winer
, Friedrich Petzel, Thea Westreich, Jeff Koons, Roland Augustine, Lawrence Luhring, David Nolan, Stephen Prina, Jory Felice, Tracy Williams, Ann Goldstein, Christopher Williams, Julian Schnabel, Louise Lawler, Betsy Wright Millard, Sigrid Rothe, Veit Loers, Tobias Rehberger, Thomas Bayrle, Valeria Heisenberg, Barbara Weiss, Nicole Hackert, Sven Ahrens, Ina Weber, Christoph Tannert, Thomas Berger, Karel Schampers, Eleni Koroneou, Alexandra Koroneou, Davé, Samia Saouma, Kazu Huggler, Minchie Huggler, Peter Huggler, Peter Fischli, David Weiss, Bice Curiger, This Brunner, Hans Weigand, Margarete Heck, Reinhard Knaus, Ernst Kampel, Rogelio Campos, and Daniel Baumann.
It was Gisela Capitain who showed me the way to many of these people. We had countless conversations with each other, and she assisted me with stories, information, texts, pictures, names, addresses, and telephone numbers, with the support of her colleagues Regina Fiorito, Margarete Jakschik and Nina Kretzschmar. They patiently and promptly answered every one of my questions, no matter how often I came to them with more. It is a rare stroke of luck for the best friend and gallerist of a deceased artist, who was there for the creation of his works and exhibitions almost from the beginning, to manage his estate. Without the help of this friend, Martin would not have been able to make the work he made while he was alive; without her intelligent and loving commitment to his work since his death, he would not have achieved the posthumous fame that he has achieved.
Doris Krystof and Jessica Morgan gave me the opportunity to write a piece for the catalog for their 2006 exhibition Martin Kippenberger at the K21 in Düsseldorf and the Tate Modern in London, which for me was a second step on the path to this book. The first step was an article in the newspaper Der Tagesspiegel about the fifth anniversary of Martin’s death, which I would not have written if Christoph Amend and Stephan Lebert had not so stubbornly asked me. After that essay (which is now incorporated into the introduction of this book), I swore never to write anything about my brother again, and so this book would not exist without my agent, Barbara Wenner, who, with her usual restraint, asked me if I couldn’t imagine doing it nonetheless. She was patient enough to wait until I was ready, and she accompanied and assisted me through all the crises on this long path. Her trust gave me the confidence I needed when I had lost it myself.