| Marfa, Texas, a ten-hour long journey at best from the New York art capitol, has evolved into an iconic cultural pilgrimage site drawing international art seekers. A measure of incredulity has also arisen with its new popular image, as is evidenced by John Waters’ infamous tourist-poster-turned-Artforum-cover, and by the recent opening of a Prada store. However, Judd’s sincerity and travail has been taken out of focus by Marfa’s demonstration of some of the criticism this arid destination has garnered. Should you make your way to Marfa just shy of Thanksgiving, expect to miss the Labor Day crowds drawn there for Chinati Foundation’s Open House weekend, the Marfa Lights Festival, and the summertime 100 degree-plus temperatures. |  |
Charlotte Henderson visited Marfa as part of a class on Donald Judd while completing her Masters in Architecture at Yale.
Donald Judd, 100 untitled works in mill aluminum, 1982-1986. Artillery sheds at Fort Russell. Courtesy of Charlotte Henderson.Marfa, Texas, a ten-hour long journey at best from the New York art capitol, has evolved into an iconic cultural pilgrimage site drawing international art seekers. A measure of incredulity has also arisen with its new popular image, as is evidenced by John Waters’ infamous tourist-poster-turned-Artforum-cover, and by the recent opening of a Prada store. However, Judd’s sincerity and travail has been taken out of focus by Marfa’s demonstration of some of the criticism this arid destination has garnered. Should you make your way to Marfa just shy of Thanksgiving, expect to miss the Labor Day crowds drawn there for Chinati Foundation’s Open House weekend, the Marfa Lights Festival, and the summertime 100 degree-plus temperatures. One can look past the static Dairy Queen on the horizon to approach this serene landscape with the same sense of quietude and sanctity that endeared Judd to the area when he crossed this landscape, over 50 years ago.
Trained in architecture myself, a trek to Marfa meant at last encountering Judd’s endeavors in the medium. My interest and his were both whetted by the renovation of 101 Spring Street, which enabled him to articulate the powerful relationship between the specific object, and the volume of space encompassing it, but also the problems of ownership, art, and independence. One of Judd’s arguments is that architecture (museums and commercial constructions namely) can be an extension of government. They serve as specious indicators of a contestable power that enables further vacuity over meaningful cultural production. His activism during the gentrification of SoHo included publishing a newspaper, The Lower Manhattan Township, and promoting a reserve for the original artist-inhabitants of the Cast Iron District. Nonetheless, this resistance was futile, and as we can see today, he would spend the latter part of his life acquiring land and buildings in a secession-minded Texas, where work could be permanently housed just as the artist would have it. His aim was increased autonomy, and more independence from the gallery types and employees of capitalist institutions. He wanted the work protected from the kinds of urban transformation he deemed so nefarious in his extensive writings. The result is the Marfa we know today, where we can find entire buildings on the former military base repurposed to forever hold installations by Dan Flavin, Carl Andre, Ilya Kabakov, Roni Horn, and so on.
Even so, how does Judd’s architecture stack up? The 100 aluminum boxes at Fort Russell came to Judd after he began renovating the artillery sheds to which they are now integral. He removed the building’s typical garage doors and inserted large glass panes, emphasizing the concrete perimeter columns as linear elements set against the landscape. The reflective boxes draw the light and land into the installation space. Further afield, the remains of Judd’s incomplete, final construction project rests. Meant to provide more exhibition space, these elemental concrete volumes are a testament to his interest in Louis Kahn, Mies-"less is more"-van der Rohe, and ideas that had developed through art making. Judd’s declaration that "boxes are fairly complicated things—you’ve got eight edges" holds true of both his artwork and his approach to building.
Judd maintained a separate architecture office and studio space, which stand opposite one another on North Highland Avenue downtown. The office holds drafting for building commissions, while the studio displays a variety of design objects, from kimonos to Biedermeier furniture. I saw these two spaces as representing the distinction between the functional necessities of architectural form versus its cultural and conceptual possibilities. They reflect Judd’s criticism on the failure of some architects (Peter Eisenman, Hans Hollein, and others are targets) whose museum designs he viewed as flamboyant, and failing at their charge to house art. While never completely sympathetic to Judd’s harsh stance, the cohesiveness of the buildings, art, and landscape did convince me of Judd’s philosophical commitment to unity and independence.
