Urs Fischer

No, I never really think in terms of a message. If anything, I think in terms of discipline: if I can, I try to focus on a single theme in a work, not five. Because when you overload it with too many things, in the end none of them really communicate. For me, art is not like a song on the radio that gives you an instant thrill; it’s something that enters the mind slowly, and sometimes it lingers because of the context in which you saw it. Think about when you come across a painting in a friend’s house: at first it doesn’t convince you, but after a few days you almost start talking to it, forming a kind of bond with that canvas.

I’ve been working with skeletons for about twenty-five years. They appeared almost by chance: one day I started sculpting them, and since then—even if I set them aside from time to time—they keep coming back. As in this case. I tried to integrate the skeleton without compromising the integrity of Canova’s work. The two figures intertwine, but from the front the Canova remains intact; I let it be what it is. My intervention comes in from the side, or from behind. It’s an added presence, but not an invasive one.

Exactly. I also wanted to respect another aspect: not all sculptures are meant to be viewed from 360 degrees—some clearly have a front and a back. And here I tried to follow that logic, playing with the idea of a spatial vision, but always with a sense of discretion.

Can I turn the question around? Isn’t the insistence on having clear answers at all costs itself a form of resistance? There are so many different ways of seeing things. I think that, as an artist — but this applies to many colleagues and friends as well — you come to realize this over time. Some artistic practices are very strong, but also very defined, univocal. They have a clear, precise vision. But I’ve never thought that way, not even as a kid. And I still don’t. I allow myself to work with whatever interests me, whatever that might be. From the outside, it might seem complicated — and I don’t even know if it’s the most sensible choice — but it reflects my nature. I have different interests, and I couldn’t imagine being in the studio every day doing the same thing over and over. I truly love Giorgio Morandi, but that extreme concentration would drive me crazy. That hyper-focus, yes, it would push me over the edge.

I’ve started working a bit with furniture. In Rome, for example, the central sculpture is a sofa. I approach it lightly, and it’s fun. Over the past few months, I’ve really immersed myself in this new exploration.