Art As A Car Wreck: Mason Connors And His "Lives Wrecked" Project
By Carol Vogel
The first time Mason Connors (Colorado Springs, 1963) was involved in a car accident was on the day of his 23th Birthday. He wasn't driving, but riding in the back, asleep. When he woke up, ripped off his dreams by a sound he never imagined possible, he discovered the universe around him was all small pieces of metal, glass, cloth and skin flying everywhere. And then blood. So much of it. His, other's, flowing through the air like a river in revolt.
That night seven persons lost their lives. Connors was the only survivor, her brand new wife, Tabitha, killed instantly in the crash.
Everybody that has been in such a catastrophe or lost somebody to them knows how much pain they involve, how insurmontable they seem, how they seem to leave the survivors wrecked beyond any possible hope.
And yet, Mason Connors has since been in many of them. Eight, to be precise. And, not only has he survived to tell the story (or, more precisely, each one of the stories), but has decided to do so in a very unconventional way.
"Art is the only relief we can get from pain. When we are tortured by the misery of the human condition, so brutal, so permanent, so haunting as to leave no escape, the only thing we can possibly do is look at suffering in the eyes and do our best to turn it into something beautiful," says Connors, from his studio, deep in the Texan desert.
And it would come at no surprise that this trained civil enginereed would turn to art as a cure for anguish after such a life changing experience, if it wasn't for the fact that his chosen form of expression is crashing cars and turning them into objects of art.
That's right. The eight crashes after that first one have all been planned carefully and in advance by Connors, as part of a life project that would seem completely insane if only it wasn't so fascinating.
"I think you could say that by now I have more knowledge about the physics and mechanics of car crashes than most forensic teams and automobile manufacturers in the world," he quips. He might be exagerating, but he certainly knows a great deal about the issue.
For the past seventeen years, Connors has studied everything related to car accidents, from physics to law. And then, every approximately two years ("I've always had a problem with punctuality", he confesses), he has planned and executed a car accident with the utmost attention given to details, specially security and respect for other's property and the law.
"There are always problems, though. Each and every time I know I'm risking my life in a very big way. And that's partially the point, knowing that I could not come out alive from this one. And then there's the law. There's basic things, like, you simply cannot crash into a building or someone elses car. That's for sure, but then there's the fine print, and that's where things star getting messy. For example, in one of the accidents, I basically smashed a 92 Suburban into the side of a mountain, just a few miles away from the Grand Canyon. I made sure it wasn't on the protected area, but I still got ticketed. I had not violated any traffic law (I'm very careful with that), but there was this state law which considers landscape features state property and so I was charged with that. I was bailed out by a San Francisco gallerist."
Because the fact is that, even though state agencies might not be among his biggest fans (I mean, which police department on Earth wants to deal with a guy that plans car crashes?), people in the world of art flock to see his impressive works.
"There is just nothing like him, there hasn't ever been," says New York gallerist Virginia Zabriskie. "He simply turned the world of art upside down. He could have taken random wrecked cars and made them into this absolutely fabolous Fabergè eggs he makes, this collages of twisted metal, and they'd be very special indeed, but it's the fact that he has lived through the accidents, with the cars, that just makes them unique objects. I do not think there is anything comparable in any gallery in the world, anything as valuable, in the true sense of the word".
The fact that there is only nine of them (Connors hopes to complete the tenth for 2006) makes them even more precious. The four that have been auctioned have reached record prices for works of art which are not sculptures or paintings and have been made by a living artist. His fifth piece, part of the estate of the late Arthur Goldberg was sold at Christies 2004 $100 million-plus contemporary art sale for an astonishing 3.5 million dollars, by far the largest ammount paid for any work by the younger, less-known artists involved. It was bought by a Japanese collector.
"What makes his cars so unbelievably special is that they contain a life in them. A life that was lived, ended, and cannot possibly be restored," explains art critic Mari Goicochea. The title Connors has chosen for his project is very revealing in this sense: "Lives Wrecked".
"After that first crash, after Tabitha, when I was in the hospital with half my body fractured, I knew I just couldn't go back. I had no life to go back to. It had all been wrecked, like the car. So I simply decided to get that car, I mean what was left of it, that car back and fill it with my wrecked life. So I collected everything I had and basically made this huge, weird and beautifull collage, this Frankenstein monster thing with all the pieces that were scattered after the dust settled from the crash. I burnt all the rest, sold what had some value and just left with the clothes I had on to start from scratch".
And he has been doing the same thing ever since.
"Every time I complete a car, and I'm truly satisfied with it, I just burn everything that's left and leave without knowing what my life is going to be like afterwards, who am I going to be, who am I going to meet. After a while (it usually takes a three or four months) everything kind of gets into place by itself and it's just living that life to the fullest, until I have this insight, this "revelation" that it all shuould be over, after which I start planning the whole thing and crash the car I've been driving for the past two years and go through the whole life-death experience, after which it's back to the ranch to turned the wrecked car and the wrecked life into something and then start it all over again."
"It's sometimes a bit tiring, especially after people started knowing who I was."
But, even though he might find it so, there art world certainly does not share his opinion. The newly restructured MoMA is rumored to be very intersted in acquiring Wrecked Life Number Three (the first work Connors ever sold) from its present owner, the Denver Museum of Contemporary Art (which is said to be quite reluctant about any sale or deal for this piece, which has turned out to be one of its major attractions). Furthermore, the Whitney Museum of Modern Art is now considering holding an exhibition on his work next fall, quite an unusual distinction for a working artist. And, even though Conors just bought a few months ago his tenth car (a '00 Blue Camaro), there is already a considerable line of collectors, galleries and auction houses eager to get it. "There is much interest on it, even by some very major names," hints New-York based Andrew Pugliese, Connors's dealer.
The buzz is sure to remain, as Connors goes on with this, his tenth life, in a location he wishes to keep secret. Paradoxically for a contemporary artist in this media-crazed era, Connors sees fame as an obstruction for his work.
"Everything would be much simpler if I was still a nobody, like the first times. I mean, yes, money makes it all much easier, but to be known (and you would be surprized at just how many random people stop me and ask, 'aren't you that crazy artist guy that crashes cars?') is not only an obstacle to my project, it's also very annoying. Because at the end, what I'm doing here, never mind the galleries and the collectors and the museums, is still living my life the only way I know: by suffering, falling and getting back up again. Like everyone else does, in the last analysis."
Like everyone else does. Maybe it's the fact that there is something we can all relate to behind his incredibly outrageous project, that makes his "wrecked lives" so absolutely compelling.
(From the New York Times, February 5, 2004)
posted by Cer0 @ 15:48
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