Grass Cube 1967

Curator: We’re looking at Hans Haacke’s "Grass Cube" from 1967. It’s a black and white photograph. Editor: It’s immediately disorienting. The photograph presents such ordinary, common material. A dense patch of grass. It gives me a strange sense of quiet, like being close to the earth itself. Curator: For Haacke, the "Grass Cube" functions as an exercise in defining the boundaries between nature, systems and the readymade. You can think of Duchamp, who used existing objects for art, only now it's the natural material world under examination. The means of photographic production elevate this humble source. Editor: Absolutely. In terms of symbolism, grass has always signified cycles of growth, renewal, even resurrection. Its abundance is a potent image in so many traditions. But in this case, drained of color and rendered so abstractly, those familiar associations feel... suspended. Curator: I think that suspension comes directly from the interplay between the real, natural state of that grass and the mediation it undergoes through mechanical and chemical processing—that of photographic development. Editor: Do you think its status as a monochrome image strips it of meaning, in the context of earlier grass imagery for instance? Curator: It challenges conventional artistic gestures. Instead of creating something entirely new, Haacke recontextualizes what's already there. It allows you to reconsider your own assumptions. Think about where you stand in relation to raw materials, labor, and ultimately, the environment. Editor: And perhaps even questions how we assign cultural weight to what we see. It compels us to really *look*. I’ll leave considering those questions. Curator: Agreed. "Grass Cube" demonstrates the inherent value found in simple, natural processes when brought into contact with manufactured tools.