Eva Hesse
San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA)
Untitled or Not Yet, 1966
Eva Hesse
“Now may not be the time for earth-shattering revelations. Instead, the true lessons may rest in learning to come as we are and to share that with others.”
– Elizabeth Mathis Cheatham
Having fled Nazi Germany, survived the heartbreak of her parents’ divorce and more crushingly, her mother’s suicide, post-minimalist artist Eva Hesse knew all too well the voice of doubt and the struggles of life. When her marriage to fellow sculptor Tom Doyle was on the rocks after moving to Kettwig, Germany for his artist residency, Eva Hesse found it difficult to create and was plagued by self-doubt.
Luckily, she had the courage to confide in her dear friend and fellow artist Sol LeWitt, and the letter he sent to buoy her spirits and encourage her art was just priceless. While it is probably too long to share all of it with you, here are some of my favorite parts…
“Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder, wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out… stop it and just DO.
If you fear, make it work for you—draw & paint your fear & anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things… then you will be able to DO…
I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work—the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell—you are not responsible for the world—you are only responsible for your work—so DO IT.”
© The Estate of Eva Hesse. Courtesy of Hauser & Wirth.
No Title, 1964
Eva Hesse
Courtesy of WikiArt
Untitled, 1967
Eva Hesse
The five years that followed were Eva Hesse’s most productive and inventive as she shifted her focus from paintings and drawings to impressive and unusual latex, fiberglass, and plastic sculptures. Becoming one of the pioneers of the postmodernism movements, Eva courageously chose to DO her work, before her untimely death at 34 due to a brain tumor.
Before I read Sol LeWitt’s letter to Eva Hesse, I had not been DOING these last few weeks. Instead, I had neglected my practice entirely as I encouraged those around me to dive deep into their art. And, while I am trying to be extra gentle with myself when I fail to remember what works (doing the things that feed my soul) and what does not (copious amounts of cookie dough), I know not writing never serves me. It does, however, make me rather miserable to be around.
“I can’t do it…I have nothing to say,” I complained over text. The fact that I had not written for weeks was really starting to take its toll, and I was becoming irritable and discontented.
“Maybe you have so much to say, you just need time for the chaos to organize,” Heather, my often-needed perspective-shifter, suggested.
“Perhaps that’s a nicer way of saying it, but, honestly, I just feel like a loser for not being able to come up with something profound and helpful right now.”
© The Estate of Eva Hesse. Courtesy of Hauser & Wirth. Photo: Detroit Institute of Arts.
Accession ii, 1968, 1969
Eva Hesse
All of my thoughts and words have felt rather inconsequential as we weather these uncertain times, even though I know in my heart that art and expression are crucial to the human spirit. Yet, the problem rested not in the fact that I didn’t know what to say—which I still don’t—but instead in the assumption that I was supposed to know.
Perfectionism and self-doubt, my loyal companions who are especially talkative when the world feels unmanageable and unkind, politely advised that ‘if I didn’t have anything insightful or healing to say, then I really shouldn’t say anything at all.’
For weeks, I have been a good girl and complied. I choose to no longer.
The belief that I only have the right to write or speak or share when I have it all together is a lie that threatens to permeate all other aspects of my life if I let it. For, as Eva Hesse so wisely realized, “art and life are inseparable.”
These days are hard and scary and sad. They are also oddly precious and slow and full of sweet moments that completely contradict the awfulness we hear on the news and from our loved ones on the front lines. Our art is not meant to make sense of all this. It is meant to help us show up more fully for all of it… the chaos and the mess… the grief and the hope.
Eva Hesse Archive, Allen Memorial Art Museum, Oberlin College. Gift of Helen Hesse Charash, 1977.
photograph of Eva Hesse, ca. 1959
Stephen Korbet
“Art and life are inseparable.”
– Eva Hesse
So, I commit once more to my daily practice… to opening my computer and moving my fingers twice a day for an hour—even if the only thing that ends up on the page is “I have nothing to say.” Henry Matisse is credited with saying that “creativity takes courage,” to which I agree wholeheartedly. What it also needs, just as badly, is discipline—a word I am learning to make peace with.
At the same time, I will remind myself that nothing I write or create has to be clever or life changing. Instead, it needs only to be honest and real. Now may not be the time for earth-shattering revelations. Instead, the true lessons may rest in learning to come as we are and to share that with others.
These are my commitments for the coming days and weeks… They are not drastic—instead, they are doable. Doable seems to be about all I can handle these days.
What are your commitments to yourself and your creative practice right now? What are you learning and how are you growing through these difficult times?
Courtesy of WikiArt