LOS ANGELES — A thick piece of white nylon stretches between two poles. Artist Gustav Metzger, wearing a gas mask, sprays acid on the makeshift canvas. During his 10-minute film, “Self-Destructive Art: The Activities of Gustav Metzger” (1965), screened at Gustav Metzger: And then came the environment at Hauser & Wirth, the previously taut pictorial surface of nylon is torn to shreds, revealing beyond the River Thames to London. Metzger’s use of acid is reminiscent of both the “acid rain” produced by the mixture of toxic debris and precipitation, and the “black rain” that fell on Nagasaki and Hiroshima after the United States detonating two atomic bombs in 1945; in a 2009 interview, the artist called the artwork an attack on “the systems of capitalism, but also inevitably the systems of war, the warmongers.”
Art and war, in an abstract way, are also the subject of Cai Guo-Qiang: a material odyssey at the USC Asian Pacific Museum. The two artists can easily appear as opposites: Cai, born in 1957 in Quanzhou, China, produces works at a rapid pace and his art is known for its spectacular and explosive exhibitions, which typically use gunpowder as the primary material. Metzger, who died in 2017, was an avowed pacifist who fled his home in Nuremberg in 1939 aboard the Kindertransport with his older brother; the rest of his family was killed during the Holocaust. Both artists, however, walk the fine line between creation and destruction, sometimes with real-world consequences: Cai’s recent performance, “WE ARE: Explosion Event” at USC’s Memorial Coliseum, which launched the initiative PST: The Getty Foundation’s Art and Science Collide, has drawn criticism for its loud fireworks, smoke and shrapnel, forcing some visitors to receive minor first aid. Seen together in Los Angeles this fall, Cai and Metzger illuminate a central problem in art-making today: what happens when creative activities actually destroy?
And then came the environment is Metzger’s first exhibition at Hauser & Wirth since the gallery acquired his estate and foundation in 2020. The title is taken from his 1992 essay “Nature Demised,” which condemned corporate and government environmentalism for their a priori investment in mass production and capitalism. Metzger’s approach to the issues addressed in his writings is subtle and prescient, attuned to the ways in which scientific invention can both impress and harm. In a dark gallery, the hypnotic “Liquid Crystal Environment” (1966/2024) displays a semicircle of seven floor-to-ceiling Kodak slide projections on liquid crystal screens (LCDs). The work appears as an allegory for global warming: LCD screens, made of the same material as phone, computer and radar screens, show oozing rainbows of colors that transform depending on the heat of the projector and the bodies in the room.
Metzger saw an intimate connection between art, society, and the environment: each was and is created and destroyed by toxic technologies and materials used in war, mass production, and gasoline-powered transportation. Cai takes a narrower view, but his work relies on the same connection between art and violence. In a series of paintings commissioned by the Guggenheim, on display at the USC Pacific Asia Museum, he evokes the works of canonical Western artists using his typical explosive strategy. “Non-Brand 非品牌 2” (2019) shows Rothko-style rectangles of gunpowder red and orange bifurcated by a thick black line, and “Non-Brand 非品牌 5” (2019) appropriates the classic blue of ‘Yves Klein, now streaked with ash. . These paintings make American and European artists inextricable from the legacy of violence, while also connecting them to Chinese history – gunpowder was invented in 9th century China.
But where Metzger’s self-destructive work often resulted in a lack of artistry – spraying acid on nylon canvas until it disintegrated, for example – Cai is prolific and his works are the result of carefully crafted explosions that he himself orchestrated. In his work, this destruction can lead to results worth celebrating: “Gunpowder Study for October Revolution Centennial” (2017) features a series of round, swirling light bulbs of color, bleeding together to form an abstract, painterly canvas . The work’s careful, luminous composition reveals an attention to the creative potential—and even the aesthetic beauty—of violent revolution, such as the overthrow of the Russian tsarist monarchy by the Bolsheviks mentioned in the title. Other works, however, depict deadly events in a more visceral and dark light: “Shadow: Pray for Protection” (1985-1986), for example, is a monumental canvas made from gunpowder, wax and of acid, depicting ghostly and laser images. cut-out stencils representing human figures, their flesh scorched by golden sulfuric powder; the effect mimics the burned skin of Hiroshima victims.
It can be difficult to discern a legible moral position in Cai’s practice, but his work is often better for it, as his ambivalence manages to force an encounter with horrible and uncomfortable truths about the connection between creation and destruction. He might do well, however, to take a leaf out of Metzger’s book. With only 18 works in his exhibition, including a film and two unrealized projects presented as scale models, Metzger’s relatively limited oeuvre reflects an awareness of the art world’s unintentional contribution to “the disappearance of nature ”, due to the rapid and accelerated pace of artistic creation. production at emissions-intensive art fairs and international exhibitions. When I left Hauser & Wirth, the image of Metzger’s acid-soaked, tattered nylon canvas floated through my head – unsellable, untransportable, unassailable. If Cai shows us what art really is, then Metzger demonstrates what art can be.
Gustav Metzger: And then came the environment continues at Hauser & Wirth (901 East 3rd Street, Arts District, Los Angeles) until January 12, 2025. The exhibition was curated by Kate Fowle.
Cai Guo-Qiang: a material odyssey continues at the USC Pacific Asia Museum (46 North Los Robles Avenue, Pasadena, California) through June 15, 2025. The exhibition was curated by Rachel Rivenc, manager of conservation and preservation at the Getty Research Institute.