Not Vital, Camel, 2018. Fundaziun Not Vital, Tarasp Castle. Photo: Eric Powell.
In encompassing a decades-long practice, Not Vital: Sculpture does much more than chronicle an artist whose works span mediums and continents: through her comprehensive weaving of archival research, collaborative scholarship, and personal memories, author Alma Zevi curates a narrative exhibition of the artist's entirely unique approach, touching upon everything from formative influences to international recognition, and ultimately, the 11th century Swiss castle the artist now calls home. Phillips was fortunate to catch up with both Zevi and Vital and discover their perspectives on the book's explorations.
Alma Zevi
PHILLIPS: Tell us a bit about how the book came to be as the first comprehensive tome on the life and work of Not Vital.
ALMA ZEVI: It all came about in a very natural way: I grew up with Not and have known him since I was a child. I remember my parents taking me to visit him in his studio on Broadway in New York when I was nine or ten years old, the memory is strong and I can picture clearly the plaster sculpture he was working on at the time. When I was completing my History of Art degree at the Courtauld Institute I was keen to write about a living artist and couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to interview more than Not! We sat down for the first interview in his studio in Beijing (me hoping to start to shape my thesis) and five minutes in, Not asked me to come and work for him once I had graduated. So I worked as his Studio Manager and Archivist, but soon I was also getting commissioned to write catalogue essays and hired to co-curate his museum shows. Organising and digitising his archive, while actively following both complex productions and international exhibitions of new artworks, was the perfect basis from which to start a comprehensive book about the artist. It was always bound to be about both his life and work as the two cannot be separated, and I was fortunate to have a unique insight into these two inextricable worlds.
P: Sculpture carries quite a bit of weight in the book’s title as a constant in the artist’s ever-changing oeuvre. How do you see his sculptural approach in the context of the book’s timeline?
AZ: Not is a polymath with a multi-faceted, interdisciplinary practice. However, the fil rouge is his fundamental identity as a sculptor. He sees the world as a sculptor, conceptualizing his work in terms of volumes that exist in space, refer to space, or are formed as result of objects moving through space. His strongest childhood memories are of constructing habitats in the local forest and digging cavernous holes into the snow that he would lie in for hours at a time. The sensorial, three-dimensional identity as a maker remains very strong in his adult practice. When he moved to New York in the mid-1970s, he became the studio assistant for Salvatore Scarpitta, a seminal sculptor from the mid-1960s onwards, who was part of Leo Castelli’s roster. Not also had important encounters with de Kooning and Twombly, both of whom were sensational sculptors.
Not Vital with Salvatore Scarpitta.
Not’s own sculptural practice is incredibly rich, experimental and often surprising. He has worked with a multitude of materials including steel, marble, bronze, wood, Murano glass, silver, gold, aluminium, granite, and tin. But he has also sculpted with totally unconventional materials like cotton wool or soap. In doing so, he pushes the limits of what a sculpture can look like, feel like, and sometimes even smell like. Not’s practice creates a unique expanded field of sculpture. Since he travelled to Niger in the late 1999s, it has been fused with an incredible architectural drive - and this where some of his most striking works can be found, for example, his House to Watch the Sunset.
Not Vital, House to Watch the Sunset, 2005. Aladab, Niger.
When Vital makes a work on paper, it is always about objecthood - for example he applies unexpected everyday objects as his artistic materials. These can range from dental floss to garbage bags, sleeping pills to Toblerone chocolate. Likewise, one of his most famous etchings was produced by throwing snowballs at the metal plate, thus a two-dimensional surface is both molded and informed by a weighted object traveling through space. In short, in Vital’s practice, two-dimensional works are a trace of or platform for three-dimensional realties.
My book also has a chapter titled ‘Painting as Sculptor', which goes into detail about the painting practice he started in Beijing in 2009. In my mind, sculpture — from the conceptual, to the material concerns — is at the heart of Vital’s practice.
Not Vital, 3 Mountains in Toblerone, 2005. Private Collection.
P: The discursive style of the text moves beyond a cataloguing of Vital’s practice and into a sort of examination of his continuous evolution through different mediums and locations. Are there any discoveries you made as an author that you may have not known as a curator, or even as a friend of Vital’s?
AZ: There were many discoveries, I kept it to three here:
1. The process of making the book was very research-intensive and there were many discoveries along the way. I especially enjoyed finding out about the formative people Not met early in his career, such as Samuel Beckett, Patti Smith, Miró, and Diego Giacometti. I enjoyed hearing about exhibitions and specific artworks that have left a strong impression too, from Michelangelo’s David, to Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia, to Velazquez’s Christ Crucified. It was both a creative and scholarly challenge to think about how (or if) any of the exposure he had to specific artists, architects, musicians, works of art or exhibitions related to his artistic output.
2. Another striking revelation was that it was only by working on the book that I (and Not in fact) realized how much work he has done: the book covers over 450 artworks.
3. The book was in many ways a collaborative effort — it allowed me to meet incredible scholars, collectors, critics, artists and more — who have been part of Not’s story. The way that these highly accomplished people were generous with their time and knowledge was overwhelming. I was not expecting so much genuine, continuous goodwill and support. I have all these people to thank, as well Not of course, for helping me complete the book.
Not Vital in New York, ca. early 1980s.
P: Given the scope of your research and friendship, was there anything you set out to clarify or illuminate when it comes to defining Vital’s work?
I set out to write a book that would be a central point of reference for Not’s life and work until now, as a 75-year-old, nomadic artist. It is intended to contextualize the work, offer hundreds of high-quality reproductions, and shed light on the evolution of the practice. It was also important to dive deep into the archives and include previously unpublished material such as behind-the-scenes photographs, exhibition flyers and so on. I had total access to the archives and this allowed me to paint an expansive biographical picture of the artist from his early childhood.
I structured the book so as to include an extended introduction that would outline some main themes in the work, such as folklore, identity, dreams and nature. Then I described a loosely chronological story, defined by different geographies that have been important to the artist; this is followed by the cataloguing of hundreds of individual sculptures. The final section includes a thorough index, which is really important as it allows the reader to easily navigate their way through a 470-page book towards their point(s) of interest. The book does not need to be approached in a linear fashion, i.e. read from beginning to end, but is written and structured in such a way that one can dip in and out at any point.
The book is not meant to be definitive, but it is intended to engage the reader, ask questions, and spark dialogue. I feel very fortunate to have spent so much time with Not, and, while his work can be rather abstract, mysterious, or at the very least ambiguous, he is a wonderful storyteller. I wanted to share some of those stories that are connected to the artworks, and give the reader a sense of the artist’s voice and personality.
Not Vital, House for Upsala, 2014.
P: And now speaking as a curator and art historian, has your experience of Tarasp castle offered any new perspectives?
AZ: Not called me one morning in 2015 — a rare occasion as he does not have a cell phone and is often travelling in remote places — to tell me he had a very vivid dream. That is when he told me that he had dreamed about Tarasp Castle and that he now wanted to acquire it. The first time he took me to visit the castle it was vast and impressive, as most castles are, but it was dark, uninhabited for generations, a mausoleum. He fought hard to buy the castle, the canton had to vote for him to have the right to do so — it is one of the most important historical sites in Switzerland (it was previously owned by the Princes of Hessen, and dates back to the 11th century).
Once he had acquired the castle he transformed it in an astonishingly short space of time. Now it is a living, breathing, constantly changing artwork in its own right that is open to the public. It is filled with artworks by Not and fellow artists, from Alighieri Boetti to Heidi Bucher, from Tintoretto to Basquiat, from Warhol to Otto Dix, from Richard Long to Cady Noland. It contains its original important traditional furniture, stained glass and Dutch tapestries which are put in dialogue with Not’s installations and interventions that will surprise you at every turn. The castle is a testament to Not’s Engadin roots, while embodying his nomadic, global outlook. Seeing what Not has done with Tarasp demonstrates the breadth of his interests that were developed through travel; the ambition of his scale; his passion for the Engadin; and his multi-layered artistic process. In my mind, what he has done in Tarasp is the mature manifestation of his Swiss legacy, yet it is not too imposing to preclude it from being an inspiration to creative people of all ages.
The Calming Room at Tarasp Castle. Photo: Eric Powell.
Not Vital
PHILLIPS: The history of Tarasp castle is remarkable in its own right; how does this idea of folklore and history combine in your practice and engagement with the castle today?
NOT VITAL: The history of the castle is central to my Foundation, to the region and to my own practice. It is a big challenge as a sculptor to combine ancient, modern, and contemporary art in a castle that has such history (it dates back to the 11th century), while also pursuing comparable projects in other places, like a Samurai house in the South of Japan.
An interior room at Tarasp Castle.
P: Alma Zevi’s book mentions how materials and pieces from other residences at various times converged in the renovations of the castle, almost as if through a creative wandering into place. Do you see parallels in this space and your own nomadic life?
NV: The castle was a ruin at the beginning of the 20th century. In 1900, the German entrepreneur Karl August Lingner bought Tarasp Castle and proceeded to buy furnishings from castles and historical homes in neighboring regions. These were selected and reassembled at Tarasp with the help and connoisseurship of the famous Swiss art historian Johann Rudolf Rahn. Since I acquired the castle in 2016, I have also added artworks, objects and textiles from various regions. These have a more global reach – they are things I have collected over the last few decades from different parts of the world. I like to think this vision is conveyed in a sculpture I made in 2017 that is installed at the entrance of the castle entitled Il mond es massa vast per viver in 1 lö o 3 o 4 “The world is too vast to live in a single place, or three or four,” which is based on a poem by the South Korean poet Ko Un (b. 1933).
P: How do you approach your curation process? Are there any works you feel a particular resonance with at the moment?
NV: Curation is a very natural, spontaneous and fast procedure. The last works I installed in the park: 101 Camels (2022), which surround the hill of the castle, and River of Riverstones (2022). The latter is by my friend Richard Long who collected the stones directly from the Inn river, which travels down the length of the Engadin Valley, where I am from, and where the castle is situated.
Richard Long, River of Riverstones, 2022. Installation view at Tarasp Castle.
P: We think it’s safe to say that a castle is about as in situ as a work of art can be, but to that end, how does the idea of something so physically immobile blend with your constant movement?
Balancing those two things is a constant challenge: a castle that is 1000 years old, forming the base for someone who is nomadic.
Alma Zevi’s new monograph Not Vital: Sculpture (2023) is out now.