Jannis Kounellis New Works

Dagbog: Kounellis og Danmark

“La parola del’ artista e NO”, “Kunstnerens ord er NEJ”, udbruddet blev ledsa-

get af et skævt smil fra den anden side af det store arbejdsbord. Her sad Jannis

Kounellis med fingre sorte af de fedtkridtsfarver, som flød på bordet mellem os.

Han havde lige rakt mobiltelefonen tilbage til sin kone, Michelle, efter en lang-

strakt samtale. “Kunstnerens ord er NEJ” var hans konklusion på en samtale,

hvor hans bidrag stort set havde været “ja”. Her i arbejds- og spisestuen var

det en bemærkning, som var fuld af uforpligtende selvironi. Men det var også en

stolt bemærkning, som rakte ned gennem det 20. århundrede og vækkede erin-

dringen om avantgarde, modstand og ungdom, hvor “nej” til det gamle var et

“ja” til det nye.

Jeg var på besøg i 2007 hos Jannis Kounellis og Michelle Coudray i deres hjem

på Via Pompeo Magno, ved bredden af Tiberen overfor Piazza del Popolo. Vi

skulle diskutere en udstilling! Ja, ikke bare en udstilling, men udstillingen, som

skulle åbne HEART, det nye Herning Kunstmuseum i 2009.

Jannis Kounellis er i dag 78, og jeg mødte ham første gang på Arken, museet

“i helvedes forgård”, som Erik Fisher kaldte det. Hårde ord! Og helvede syntes

da også langt væk i de dage, men Fischers udtryk skulle godt og vel et års tid

senere få en ny betydning for alle på Arken.

Det turbulente år op til åbningen i 1996 var fyldt med hektisk aktivitet og forvent-

ningsfuld spænding. Vi blev dagligt opsøgt af kunstnere fra nær og fjern: James

Turrell, Bill Viola, Dennis Oppenheim, Per Kirkeby, Egill Jacobsen, blandt mange

andre - og altså Kounellis og hans hustru Michelle Coudray. Mødet havde været

aftalt i lang tid, og de øvrige deltagere var min kollega Anders Kold og vores

direktør Anna Castberg. Dagen før fik vi så besked om, at også russiske Ilya og

Emilia Kabakov var på vej og at de ville ankomme næste dag ved frokosttid.

Overfor Arken, i det kunstige landskab, ligger Ishøj lystbådehavn, hvis hoved-

færdselsåre, Søhesten, snor sig mellem brakvandsbassiner og røde træ huse.

På Søhesten nr. 14 lå og ligger stadig, “Kabyssen”, en beskeden restaurant,

som står i en befriende kontrast til det store betonmuseums nervøse myretue.

Her blev Anders og jeg velopdragent bænket på den ene langside med Anna

Castberg i blond majestæt for bordenden. Vi følte os lidt som to skoledrenge,

hvad vi strengt taget også godt kunne minde om! Overfor sad russerne og ita lie -

ner ne og der gik ikke lang tid før Kounellis og Kabakov havde indledt en livlig

samtale. Kounellis taler kun græsk og italiensk og Kabakov kun russisk og en

smule engelsk, men det hindrede dem ikke, tværtimod. Resten af selskabet

fordrev tiden med høflig konversation, mens vi skottede misundeligt til de to

kunstnere, som helt havde glemt os andre. De kendte hinanden, de beundrede

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tion og historie? Spørgsmålet, her formuleret af Kounellis, blev stillet af alle

kunstnerne i generationen. Det havde en særlig relevans for Italien, som fra slut

i 1950’erne og frem til 1969 oplevede Italia Boom. En modernisering uden side-

stykke i Europa, og som har fået historikere til at beskrive Italien som det mest

amerikaniserede samfund i verden. Spørgsmålet har relevans for et hvilket som

helst samfund i verden, som oplever konflikterne mellem tradition, historie og

modernitet; den hurtige moderniserings og kommercialiserings følgesvende.

To selvmodsigende og komplementære sider af samme sag, hvis erkendelse

og besvarelse er hver generations grundvilkår.

Oplevelsen i Prato var ikke afstedkommet af et enkelt værk. Udstillingen var retro -

spektiv. Kaffebrygningen var en gentagelse af en performance, som Kounellis

første gang havde udført i 1975 i Firenze. Afspilningen af Verdis fangekor blev vist

eller hørt første gang i 1970 i Rom. Ilden, kaffen, musikken er kun tre af mange

tilbagevendende elementer i Kounellis’ sprog. Undervejs fra land til land og fra

udstilling til udstilling kommer der flere til, og de allerede eksisterende skifter

plads og betydning.

Jeg vendte hjem til Herning, genantændt! Vi skulle lave en udstilling og hvilket

andet sted end Herning. Her hvor tekstilfabrikanten Aage Damgaard havde sam-

let verdens største samling af Kounellis’ landsmand og næsten samtidige, Piero

Manzoni. Det ville give mening og så havde Kounellis aldrig tidligere udstillet i

Norden – men jeg manglede en samarbejdspartner.

Nogle gange flasker tingene sig. Bo og Britt Bjerggaard havde, sammen med

deres partner, Morten Korsgaard, åbnet galleri i 1999. De var, ligesom jeg, inte-

resserede i “den italienske forbindelse”. Måske ansporet af Per Kirkeby, som

tidligere havde udstillet med Kounellis, og mellem hvem der var både venskab

og professionel respekt. Når det drejer sig om Bo, og jeg kendte ham fra min

korte tid på Louisiana, hvor han var min chef, så er der nærmest foruroligende

lille afstand mellem tanke og handling. Aftalen var på plads. En dobbeltudstilling

i galleriet i København og på museet i Herning i januar 2003. Der var dog visse

naturlige trædesten på vejen mod en udstilling, bl.a. et besøg hos kunstneren,

hvor forslaget skulle diskuteres og bearbejdes og dernæst kunstnerens besøg

i Herning, så han kunne få en idé om udstillingsstedet.

Bo og jeg tog til Rom i foråret 2002. Vi indlogerede os på Hotel Locarno, hvor

man, udover at føle sig hensat til 1920’erne, også fik udleveret en cykel. Vi fik

udstillingsaftalen i stand. At cykle i Rom er ikke naturligt og slet ikke ufarligt. De

italienske færdselsregler nævner ganske enkelt ikke cyklister! Ja, for en dansker

virker det måske som om, reglerne slet ikke omfatter hverken køretøjer eller fod -

gængere. Ikke desto mindre klarede vi Rom på cykel – uden uheld, selvom vi

konstant havde følelsen af, at blive betragtet som bilisternes lovlige bytte.

hinandens arbejde, og de mødtes sjældent, så de havde god grund til ikke at

spilde tiden. Selvom Kabakov og Kounellis tilhører en generation, hvor ateisme

er mere reglen end undtagelsen, har de begge et ortodokst ophav, som har

betydning for deres kunst.

Jannis Kounellis er ikke italiener. I 1956 forlod han sit fødested Piræus og begav

sig på en rejse, som til slut førte ham til Rom, hvor han slog sig ned og indskrev

sig på Accademia delle Belle Arti. Kounellis har holdt rejsen levende i sit værk –

både at rejse, men særligt denne rejse fra sit fødeland til Italien. Som en slags

program for et liv og en kunst, han endnu var uvidende om, genopførte han den

græske kulturs overførsel og transformering i den romerske, og samtidig gen-

oprettedes en brudt forbindelse mellem den katolske og den ortodokse kultur.

Det blev aldrig til en udstilling med Kounellis på Arken. Med Anna Castbergs

utidige exit blev den, som i øvrigt alt andet, aflyst.

Min kontakt med Kounellis blev ikke brudt, men en udstilling syntes langt væk.

I 2001 var jeg blevet direktør for Herning Kunstmuseum og i juni, fra et besøg

på Venedig Biennalen, lagde jeg vejen omkring Luigi Pecci Centret i tekstilbyen

Prato, hvor kunsthistorikeren og kuratoren Bruno Corá havde arrangeret en

udstilling med Kounellis. Til åbningen opførte kunstneren en performance, som

kom fuldstændig bag på mig.

Udstillingsrummene var tætpakkede af gæster, da jeg ankom. I et af de mindre

rum havde der samlet sig en snæver cirkel, hvor alle masede for at komme til.

Inde i midten havde Kounellis lagt sig på gulvet, som en død, iført en gammel

trenchcoat hevet op over hovedet. På hans venstre fod var der tapet en svejse-

kolbe. Kolben blev tændt. Under jubel, heppekor og almindelige tilråb, hævede

han foden mod et lille jernbord, hvorpå der stod en traditionel ottekantet espresso

kande. Svejseflammens hidsige hvæsen blandede sig langsomt med lyden af

det boblende vand i espressokandens underste kar, og duften af frisklavet kaffe

bredte sig som et livgivende, velkendt og alligevel fremmed element i udstillings-

rummet. I en fjern udstillingssal sad en ensom pianist foran flygelet iført kjole og

hvidt og spillede kortemaet fra Verdis opera Nabucco, “Va pensiero…”. Musik-

ken ledsagede kafferitualet, nuet og dagligdagen, fra et historisk rum, på samme

måde som historien altid ledsager og er forudsætningen for vores moderne liv.

Mellem espressokandens hvæsen og Verdis musik, som efter manges mening

burde have været Italiens nationalsang, fremmanede det lille tableau et sanseligt

og flerdimensionelt rum for den italienske identitet.

Dette rum, historien og moderniteten som vilkårene i menneskets tilværelse, er

et afgørende tema i hele Kounellis’ værk. Spørgsmålet lyder: “Man kan ikke und-

slippe 3000 års kulturhistorie…så hvordan være moderne under vægten af tradi-

Der var en vis både meteorologisk logik og historisk poesi i vores gensidige

besøg. For danskerne, Rom i foråret. Og for italienerne, København og Herning

midt i en snestorm. Bo og jeg kunne måske synes, at vi havde trukket det læng-

ste strå, men sådan tror jeg ikke Michelle og Jannis så på det. “La vera Pazia

del Nord”, “Den sande nordiske sindssyge” kalder Kounellis det fascinerende

ved os. Den beskrivelse ligger vist langt fra vores egen selvopfattelse, men vores

rationelle velfærdssamfund er et værn mod vore mere ukontrollable tilbøjelighe-

der fra fortiden. Vikinger, Munch, Strindberg og Jorn og hele den ekspressionisti-

ske myte, er nok en vigtig del af vores eksotiske tiltrækning på italienerne, som

mener, at de har modtaget det hele i en fortyndet form gennem Tyskland. Det

var en gammeldags ufortyndet snestorm, der modtog familien Kounellis: sådan

en, som gennem århundreder har givet os lyst til at kigge dybere i flasken end

de øvrige europæere og som dermed både har ansporet og formildet vores

mørke side.

Måske var det snestormen, som var med til at anspore Kounellis til den enorme

hvide pyramidestub, næsten et isbjerg, han byggede i Skt. Johannes kirkens

klokketårn i Herning i 2003. Forskellige begivenheder havde medført, at kirkens

tårnrum var blevet museets projektrum. Under alle omstændigheder var det

her, i kirkens kombinerede klokke- og vandtårn, at Kounellis skulle udstille. I et

hvidkalket rum, som målte 15x15x6 meter og som man nåede ad en stejl smal

vindeltrappe, installerede han som sagt en hvid pyramidestub, som næsten fyld -

te rummet. Der var så trangt, at det faktisk var svært at bevæge sig rundt om

pyra miden, men det var nødvendigt, for at nå hen til dens indgang. En duft af

kaffe mødte en, og fra loftet ned gennem midten af pyramiden, hang 20 gamle

kaffevægte med små bunker af friskmalet kaffe på hver. Et hvidt rum i et kun lidt

større og ligeså hvidt rum, et stort og næsten usynligt indgreb kun med duften

af kaffe som kontrast og vejviser. Faktisk blev jeg efter åbningen ringet op af en

gæst, som venligt gerne ville gøre mig opmærksom på, at der ikke var nogen

udstilling i kirketårnet. Værket måtte være blevet væk eller aldrig opstillet. I Her-

ning Folkeblad rapporterede man fra åbningen, og på forsiden viste man billedet

af en stakåndet og ganske fortumlet amtsborgmester, som stirrede forbløffet ind

i en af de små bunker kaffe. Under billedet stod der “Hvad er det?”, Ikke syn-

derlig originalt, men billedet af borgmesteren var godt. Ja, kaffe igen! Men det

er i virkeligheden meget enkelt. Hele den borgerlige kulturs opståen fra engang

i det 17. århundrede har kaffen som følgesvend. Med kaffeimporten skabtes den

europæiske kaffehuskultur. Kaffehusene var mødesteder for en gryende borger-

lighed. Her samtaledes om litteratur og politik og frem for alt blev der handlet.

Så det er altså en historie om os selv med kaffen som historisk markør.

Det første kaffeværk blev i øvrigt udstillet i 1969 i Galleria Lucio Amelio i Napoli,

hvor præcist udmålte bunker af friskmalet kaffe var placeret på otte små vægt-

skåle, som hang under hinanden fra en jerndrager.

Galleri Bo Bjerggaard lå dengang i Pilestræde 48 i små hvide lokaler med bred-

plankede trægulve. Til udstillingen lavede Kounellis tre installationer, som bl.a.

bestod af 2 gamle egetræsborde, hvori han i hvert bords midte, havde placeret

en stålplade. Det så faktisk ud som om stålpladerne var faldet fra rummet og

havde kløvet bordene, som nu kun blev holdt sammen af kraftige hampereb.

Stål pladen, som hos Kounellis altid måler 100x70, optrådte første gang i 1967 på

et afgørende tidspunkt i hans karriere. Dét år opgav han maleriet og deltog i

Germano Celants udstilling “Arte Povera e Im Spazio”. At han opgav maleriet er

ikke helt rigtigt, Kounellis kalder stadig sig selv maler, men i sin søgen efter det,

som Per Kirkeby kalder “det ægte billede”, måtte han erstatte det illusionistiske

maleri med virkelighedens genstande. Lærredet forsvandt og blev erstattet af

en sort stålplade, som i hele værket med sin form fastholder erindringen om en

malerisk kultur. En jerngrund hamret ned gennem gammelt træ, er et smukt og

brutalt billede på et kulturelt sammenstød mellem virkelighed og illusion.

Under opholdet i København boede Michelle og Jannis i Ny Carlsbergfondets

gæstelejlighed. Og her, som oftest om natten mellem arbejdssessionerne på

galleriet, fremstillede Kounellis en serie malerier på papir, som året efter blev

udstillet på galleriet sammen med en række mindre skulpturer af Per Kirkeby.

Når man nu bedst kender installationerne, så er de sorte malerier overraskende.

Deres rå og gestuelle skønhed røber kilderne til ophavsmandens egen kunst.

Manet, Munch og Pollock er nogle af dem man først for øje på og dem er det

vist i øvrigt svært at blive uenige om?

“Kunstnerens ord er nej” blev ikke overskriften for mit besøg i Rom. Jeg fik

min udstilling, som åbnede HEART i 2009. Guldfisk, en Amazon Ara, 9000 glas

grappa, ja og selvfølgelig kaffe, var nogle af de mest spektakulære indslag. Ber-

lingske valgte den til årets udstilling og Henrik Wivel skrev, at det var blandt de

smukkeste udstillinger, han havde set… Det var jeg glad for, men jeg var også

enig. I dag lever vi med tusindvis af efterkommere af udstillingen. I vores store

udendørs bassin har guldfiskene formeret sig og holder mindet i live.

Holger Reenberg

Direktør på HEART, Herning Museum of Contemporary Art

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Diary: Kounellis and Denmark

“La parola del’ artista e NO”: “The artist’s word is NO” – the exclamation was accom-

panied by a wry smile from the other side of the large workbench. Here sat Jannis Kou -

nellis, his fingers blackened by the colours of the crayons that lay on the table between

us. He had just handed the cell phone back to his wife, Michelle, after a lengthy con-

versation. “The artist’s word is NO” was his conclusion to a conversation in which his

contribution had largely been “Yes”. Here in his workshop and dining room, it was a

remark full of casual self-irony. But it was also a proud remark; one which reached

back through the 20th century, calling forth reminiscences of avant-garde art, resist-

ance and young people for whom “no” to the old meant “yes” to the new.

In 2007, I visited Jannis Kounellis and Michelle Coudray in their home on Via Pompeo

Magno, on the banks of the River Tiber, opposite the Piazza del Popolo. We were to

discuss an exhibition! And not just any exhibition, but the exhibition which would open

HEART, the new Herning Museum of Contemporary Art, in 2009.

Jannis Kounellis is now 78, and I first met him at Arken, the museum “in the forecourt

of hell”, as Erik Fisher described it. Harsh words! And hell also seemed a long way

away in those days – but just over a year later, Fischer’s expression was to acquire

a new meaning for everyone at Arken.

The turbulent year leading up to the opening in 1996 was filled with a flurry of expecta-

tion and excitement. We were visited daily by artists from near and far: James Turrell,

Bill Viola, Dennis Oppenheim, Per Kirkeby and Egill Jacobsen, among many others –

and along with them, Kounellis and his wife Michelle Coudray. The meeting had been

arranged for a long time, and the other participants were my colleague Anders Kold

and our director, Anna Castberg. The previous day, we had been informed that the

Russians Ilya and Emilia Kabakov were also on their way and would arrive the next

day at lunchtime.

Opposite Arken, in the artificial landscape, lies Ishøj marina, the main thoroughfare

of which, Søhesten (“The Seahorse”) winds its way between brackish water basins

and red-painted wooden huts. At Søhesten no. 14 lay, and still lies, “Kabyssen”, a small

restaurant, which presents a liberating contrast to the nervous anthill of the big con-

crete museum. Here, Anders and I were courteously seated on one long side of the

table, with Anna Castberg sitting in blonde majesty at its head. We felt a bit like two

schoolboys – which, in truth, we might well have resembled! Opposite us sat the Rus-

sians and Italians, and it was not long before Kounellis and Kabakov were engaged

in a lively conversation. Kounellis speaks only Greek and Italian, and Kabakov only

Russian and a little English, but this did not stop them – on the contrary. The rest of

the company passed the time with polite conversation while glancing enviously at the

two artists, who had forgotten all about the rest of us. They knew each other, admired

each other’s work, and met only infrequently, so they had good reason not to waste

time. Although Kabakov and Kounellis belong to a generation for whom atheism is more

the rule than the exception, they both had an Orthodox upbringing, which is important

to their art.

Jannis Kounellis is not Italian. In 1956 he left his birthplace of Piraeus and set out on

a journey that ultimately led him to Rome, where he settled and enrolled at the Acca-

demia delle Belle Arti. Kounellis has kept this journey alive in his work – both in the

idea of travel in general, but especially this specific journey from his native country to

Italy. As a kind of programme for a life and an art of which he was as yet unaware,

he re-staged the transfer and transformation of Greek culture in the Roman world,

and simultaneously restored a broken link between Catholic and Orthodox culture.

An exhibition of Kounellis never took place at Arken. With the untimely exit of Anna

Castberg, it, along with everything else, was cancelled.

I kept in contact with Kounellis, but an exhibition seemed unlikely. Then, in 2001, I

became director of Herning Museum of Contemporary Art, and in June, after a visit to

the Venice Biennale, I looked in on the Luigi Pecci Centre in the textile town of Prato,

where the art historian and curator Bruno Corá had arranged an exhibition by Kounellis.

At the opening, the artist put on a performance that took me completely by surprise.

The exhibition rooms were packed with guests when I arrived. In one of the smaller

rooms a tight circle had gathered, which everyone was pushing and shoving to try

to get into. In the middle, Kounellis had lain down on the floor, as though dead, wear-

ing an old trench coat that he had pulled up over his head. A welding torch had been

taped to his left foot. The torch was turned on. Accompanied by shouts, cheering and

general heckling, he raised his foot towards a small iron table, on which stood a tra-

ditional octagonal espresso pot. The fiery hissing of the welding torch slowly blended

with the sound of the bubbling water in the lower chamber of the espresso pot, and

the smell of freshly-brewed coffee spread like a life-giving, familiar and yet alien ele-

ment in the exhibition space. In a distant exhibition hall, a lonely pianist in evening dress

sat at a piano playing the choral theme from Verdi’s opera Nabucco, “Va pensiero...”.

The music accompanied the coffee ritual, the present and everyday life, from a histori-

cal space, in the same way that history always accompanies and forms the foundation

of our modern life. Between the hissing of the espresso pot and Verdi’s music, which

in the opinion of many should have been Italy’s national anthem, the little tableau con-

jured up a sensual, multi-dimensional space for the Italian identity.

This space, history and modernity as the conditions of human life, forms a key theme

throughout Kounellis’ work. The question is: “You cannot escape 3,000 years of cul-

tural history... so how can we be modern under the weight of tradition and history?”

The question, here formulated by Kounellis, was asked by all the artists of his genera-

tion. It had an especial relevance for Italy, which from the end of the 1950s until 1969

experienced the Italia Boom – a modernisation process unparalleled in Europe, and

one which caused historians to describe Italy as the most Americanised society in the

world. The question is relevant for any society in the world that experience the conflicts

between tradition, history and modernity – the companions of rapid modernisation and

commercialisation; two contradictory and complementary sides of the same coin, the

recognition of and response to which are each generation’s basic conditions.

The experience in Prato was not brought about by a single work. The exhibition was

retrospective. The coffee-brewing was a repetition of a performance that Kounellis had

first given in 1975 in Florence. The playing of Verdi’s Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves was

shown, or heard, for the first time in 1970 in Rome. Fire, coffee and music are just three

of many recurring elements in Kounellis’ language. More and more appear along the

way from country to country, and from exhibition to exhibition, while those that already

exist swap places and significance.

I returned to Herning re-inspired! We had to create an exhibition, and where better

than in Herning? Here, where the textile manufacturer Aage Damgaard had assem -

-bled the world’s largest collection of works by Kounellis’ compatriot and near-con -

temporary, Piero Manzoni. It would make sense, and Kounellis had never before

exhibited in Scandinavia – but I lacked a partner.

Sometimes things just work out. Bo and Britt Bjerggaard had opened the gallery in

1999, together with their partner Morten Korsgaard. They, like me, were interested

in the “Italian Connection”; perhaps spurred on by Per Kirkeby, who had previously

exhibited together with Kounellis, and between whom there was both friendship

and professional respect. As for Bo, I knew him from my short time at Louisiana,

where he had been my boss, so there was an almost disturbingly short distance from

thought to action. The agreement was put in place: a double exhibition, to take place

in the gallery in Copenhagen and at the museum in Herning, in January 2003. How-

ever, there were certain natural stepping-stones along the way towards an exhibition,

including a visit to the artist, where the proposal was to be discussed and processed,

and then the artist’s visit to Herning, so that he could gain an impression of the exhibi-

tion venue.

Bo and I travelled to Rome in the spring of 2002. We checked into the Hotel Locarno,

where, besides feeling transported back to the 1920s, we were also loaned bicycles.

We drew up the exhibition agreement. Cycling in Rome is not at all a natural activity,

and rather risky. The Italian traffic rules quite simply do not mention cyclists! Indeed,

for a Dane it may sometimes seem as though the rules do not apply to vehicles or

pedestrians, either. Nonetheless, we managed to get through Rome by bike – and

without incident, although we constantly had the feeling that the motorists regarded

us as their legitimate prey.

There was a certain meteorological logic and historical poetry in our mutual visits. For

the Danes, Rome in the spring; and for the Italians, Copenhagen and Herning in the

middle of a snowstorm. Bo and I might think that we had drawn the longest straw, but

I do not think Michelle and Jannis saw it that way. “La vera Pazia del Nord”, “The true

Nordic insanity” was what Kounellis said was fascinating about us. That description is

a far cry from our own self-image, but our rational welfare society today is a safeguard

against our more uncontrollable tendencies in the past. Vikings, Munch, Strindberg and

Jorn, together with the whole expressionist myth, are probably important elements

in our exotic attraction for the Italians, who believe that they have received it all in a

diluted form through Germany. But it was an old-fashioned, undiluted snowstorm that

welcomed the Kounellis family: the kind of thing that over the centuries has made us

want to look deeper into the bottle than other Europeans, thereby both encouraging

and mitigating our darker side.

Perhaps it was the snowstorm that inspired Kounellis to create the huge white

pyramid room – practically an iceberg – that he constructed in the bell tower of St.

John’s church in Herning in 2003. Various events had resulted in the church’s tower

room becoming the museum’s project room. At any event, it was here, in the church’s

com bined bell and water tower, that Kounellis was to exhibit. In a whitewashed room

measuring 15 x 15 x 6 metres and reached by a steep, narrow spiral staircase, he in -

stalled the aforementioned white pyramid, which almost filled the room. The space was

so cramped that it was actually hard to move around the pyramid, but this was neces-

sary to reach its entrance. The smell of coffee met the guests, and from the ceiling,

through the centre of the pyramid, hung 20 old coffee scales with small piles of freshly-

ground coffee in each; a white room in a slightly bigger and equally white room – a large

and almost invisible creation, with only the smell of coffee to act as contrast and guide.

In fact, after the opening I received a call from a guest who kindly wished to inform me

that there was no exhibition in the church tower. Perhaps the work had got lost, or had

never been set up. The newspaper Herning Folkeblad reported the opening, and on

the front page it showed a picture of a breathless and rather confused county mayor

staring into one of the small piles of coffee. The picture was captioned: “What is it?”

Hardly very original, but it was a good photo of the mayor. Yes, coffee again! But in

fact, it is quite simple. The entire emergence of bourgeois culture, from sometime in

the 17th century onwards, was accompanied by coffee. With coffee imports, the Euro-

pean coffee house culture was created. The coffee houses were the meeting-places

for the nascent bourgeoisie. This was where people gathered to discuss literature and

politics – and where, above all, deals were done. So it is a story about ourselves, with

coffee as a historical marker.

The first coffee work was exhibited in 1969 at the Galleria Lucio Amelio in Naples,

where precisely-measured piles of freshly-ground coffee were placed on eight small

scales that hung below each other from an iron girder.

In those days, Galleri Bo Bjerggaard was located in Pilestræde 48, in small white rooms

with broad-planked wooden floors. For the exhibition, Kounellis created three installa-

tions. Two of them consisted of old oak tables. Through the middle of each table he

had inserted a steel plate. It actually looked as though the steel plates had fallen from

space and sliced into the tables, which were now held together only by strong hemp

rope. The steel plate, which for Kounellis always measures 100 x 70 cm, first appeared

in 1967 at a crucial time in his career. That was the year he gave up painting and took

part in Germano Celant’s exhibition “Arte Povera e Im Spazio”. It is not quite accurate

to say that he gave up painting, as Kounellis still calls himself a painter, but in his search

for what Per Kirkeby calls “the true picture”, he had to replace illusionist painting with

the objects of reality. The canvas disappeared and was replaced by a black steel plate,

which through its form maintains the memory of a painterly culture throughout the

work. An iron ground hammered down through old wood is a beautiful and brutal pic-

ture of the cultural clash between reality and illusion.

While they were in Copenhagen, Michelle and Jannis stayed in the guest apartment

of the Carlsberg Foundation. And it was here, often at night between work sessions

at the gallery, that Kounellis produced a series of paintings on paper which were ex -

hibited at the gallery the following year, along with a number of small sculptures by

Per Kirkeby. When the installations are what you know best, the black paintings come

as a surprise. Their raw, gestural beauty reveals the sources of the originator’s own

art. Manet, Munch and Pollock are some of the influences you first notice, and it is

hard to disagree about these.

“The artist’s word is no” did not become the headline for my visit to Rome. I got my

exhibition, which opened HEART in 2009. Goldfish, an Amazon Ara, 9,000 glasses of

grappa, and of course coffee, were some of its most spectacular elements. The news-

paper Berlingske Tidende chose it as its exhibition of the year, and Henrik Wivel wrote

that it was one of the most beautiful exhibitions he had ever seen... that pleased me,

but I also agreed with it. Today, we live with thousands of descendants of the exhibi-

tion. In our large outdoor pool, the goldfish have multiplied and keep the memory alive.

Holger Reenberg

Director of HEART, Herning Museum of Contemporary Art

Untitled, 2015

[JKZ-15-008]

Untitiled, 2015

[JKZ-15-007]

Untitiled, 2015

[JKZ-15-010]

Untitiled, 2015

[JKZ-15-009]

Untitiled, 2015

[JKZ-15-012]

Untitiled, 2015

[JKZ-15-011]

Untitiled, 2015

[JKZ-15-014]

Untitiled, 2015

[JKZ-15-013]

Jannis Kounellis

1936 Born, Piraeus, Greece

1993-2001 Professeorship at the Academy of Arts,

Düsseldorf

Lives and works in Rome, Italy

Public Collections (selected)

Centre Pompidou - Musée National d´Art Moderne, Paris, FR

Centro per l´Arte Contemporanea Luigi Pecci, Prato, IT

Hamburger Bahnhof, Museum für Gegenwart, Berlin, DE

Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg, DE

Heart, Herning, DK

Kunstmuseum Bonn, DE

Kunstmuseum Liechtenstein, Vaduz, LI

Kunstmuseum Winterthur, CH

K21 Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen – im Ständehaus,

Düsseldorf, DE

Louisiana – Museum of Modern Art, DK

MoMA, New York, US

S.M.A.K. - Stedelijk Museum voor Actuele Kunst, Gent, BE

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, US

Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, Amsterdam, NL

Tate, London, UK

Solo Exhibitions (selected)

2015 Galleri Bo Bjerggaard, Copenhagen, DK

2014 Musée d’Art Moderne, Saint-Etienne, FR

2013 Kounellis Trieste, Salone degli Incanti-Ex Pescheria,

Trieste, IT

2012 Kunstmuseum Kloster Unser Lieben Frauen, Magdeburg,

DE

2011 Jannis Kounellis: Translating China, Today Art Museum,

Beijing; CN

2009 Museum of Contemporary Art, Herning, DK

Matadero Madrid, (invitation accompanied by a text by

Jannis Kounellis) Madrid, ES

2007 Correspondances: Jean-François Millet Jannis Kounellis,

Musée d’Orsay, Paris, FR

Jannis Kounellis in der Neuen Nationalgalerie, Neue

Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Berlin, DE

2006 Jannis Kounellis: Atto Unico, Fondazione Arnaldo

2005 Edinburgh College of Art and Scottish National Gallery

of Modern Art, Edinburgh, UK

Jannis Kounellis: Opus One, Albertina, Vienna, AT;

travelled to Musée d’Art Moderne de Saint-Etienne,

Métropole, Saint-Etienne, FR

2003 Jannis Kounellis: Installation, Galleri Bo Bjerggaard,

Copenhagen, DK

Kunstraum Innsbruck, Innsbruck, AT

2002 Jannis Kounellis: Atto Unico, Galleria Nazionale d’Arte

Moderna, Rome

2001 Museo Nacional de Artes Visuales, Montevideo, UY

2000 Jannis Kounellis: Ein Saal für die Sammlung, Kunst-

museum Winterthur, Winterthur, CH; Museo Nacional

de Bellas Artes, Buenos Aires, AR

1999 Jannis Kounellis: Il Sarcofago degli Sposi, MAK Öster-

reichisches Museum für angewandte Kunst, Vienna, AT

1998 Atelier del Bosco di Villa Medici, Rome, IT

Scultura permanente in via Ponte di Tappia, Naples,

1997 Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía, Madrid, ES

1995 Jannis Kounellis. Die eiserne Runde, Hamburger Kunst-

halle, Hamburg, DE 1993Belvedere, Giardini reali del

Castello, Praga, Warsaw, PO

1991 The Henry Moore Sculpture Trust Studio at Dean Clough,

Halifax, UK

Jannis Kounellis: Frammenti di memoria, Kestner-

Gesellschaft, Hanover, DE; travelled to Kunstmuseum,

Winterthur, CH

1990 Jannis Kounellis: Via del Mare, Stedelijk Museum,

Amsterdam, NL

La stanza vede, Haags Gemeentemuseum, The Hague,

NL; travelled to The Henry Moore Sculpture Trust at Leeds

City Art Gallery, Leeds, UK; Arnolfini Gallery, Bristol, UK;

ICA, London, UK; Fundaciò Tapiés, Barcelona, ES

1989 ICA Institute of Contemporary Arts, Nagoya, JP

Musée d’Art Contemporain, Montreal, CA

1986 Jannis Kounellis: A Retrospective in Five Locations,

Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago, US

1984 Museum Haus Esters, Krefeld, DE

1981 Stedelijk Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven, NL; travelled to

Obra Social, Caja de Pensions, Madrid, ES; Whitechapel

Art Gallery, London, UK; Staatliche Kunsthalle, Baden-

Baden, DE

1980 ARC/Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, Paris, FR

1977 Kunstmuseum, Lucerne, CH

Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, Rotterdam, NL

1975 Studio d’Arte Contemporanea, Rome, IT

1972 Incontri Internazionali d’Arte, Palazzo Taverna, Rome, IT

1971 Informazione sulla presenza italiana, Incontri Internazionali

d’Arte, Palazzo Taverna, Rome, IT

1969 Kounellis: Il Giardino; I Giuochi, Galleria L’Attico, Rome, IT

1967 Kounellis: Il Giardino; I Giuochi, Galleria L’Attico, Rome, IT

1966 L’alfabeto, Galleria Arco di Alibert, Rome, IT

1964 Galleria La Tartaruga, Rome, IT

1960 Galleria La Tartaruga, Rome, IT

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© Jannis Kounellis & Galleri Bo Bjerggaard

Oversættelse fra dansk til engelsk: Wordmaster

Portrait images: Maja Flink

Work images: Manolis Baboussis

Except [JKO-15-018], [JKO-15-012] and

[JKZ-15-007] - [JKZ-15-014]: Anders Sune Berg

ISBN 978-87-93134-09-6

Tak til Rosendahls

Works / Værker

Untitled, 2015

Iron on canvas

6 x 200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-001 - JKO-15-006

Untitled, 2015

Iron

200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-007

Untitled, 2015

Iron on canvas

200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-008

Untitled, 2015

Iron and burlap sack

200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-009

Untitled, 2015

Iron on canvas

200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-010

Untitled, 2015

Iron, knife, newspaper

and shirt on canvas

200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-011

Untitled, 2015

Iron and copper

200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-012

Untitled, 2015

Iron and shirt

100 cm x 70 cm

JKO-15-013

Untitled, 2015

Iron, shirt, hat

200 cm x 180 cm

JKO-15-016

Untitled, 2015

Iron and burlap sack

100 cm x 70 cm

JKO-15-017

Untitled, 2015

Iron

175 cm x 150 cm

JKO-15-018

Untitiled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

100 cm x 70 cm

JKZ-15-007

Untitled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

76 cm x 57 cm

JKZ-15-008

Untitiled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

76 cm x 57 cm

JKZ-15-009

Untitiled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

76 cm x 57 cm

JKZ-15-010

Untitled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

100 cm x 70 cm

JKZ-15-011

Untitled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

100 cm x 70 cm

JKZ-15-012

Untitled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

100 cm x 70 cm

JKZ-15-013

Untitled, 2015

Oil stick on paper

100 cm x 70 cm

JKZ-15-014