Assembling any Turrell show is a complicated affair. Unlike a show of paintings and sculpture, every piece must be built on site, and even more than with most installation art, his work requires elaborate modifications to the museum itself. Windows must be blocked off or painted black to obscure the outside light; zigzagging hallways are constructed to isolate rooms; and each of the rooms has to be built according to Turrell’s meticulous designs, with hidden pockets to conceal light bulbs and strange protruding corners that confuse the eye. Even the drywall must be hung and finished with exacting precision, so that each corner, curve and planar surface is precise to 1/64th of an inch. It can take hundreds of man-hours to finish a single room; he was erecting 11 at Lacma.
[exhibition spoilers abound!]
The Dan Flavin Estate has quietly reversed its position on the production of posthumous versions of the artist’s fluorescent light sculptures.
Until 2007, the estate did not manufacture unrealised editions. “At the time, I thought that limiting the number of works in the world to what Dan sold during his lifetime, and had certificates for, actually simplified matters,” says Stephen Flavin, the artist’s son and executor of his estate, speaking publicly about the policy shift for the first time.
Flavin generally conceived his sculptures in editions of three or five, but would wait to create individual works until they had been sold to avoid unnecessary production and storage costs. Until the point of sale, his sculptures existed as drawings or exhibition copies. As a result, the artist left behind more than 1,000 unrealised sculptures when he died in 1996. If produced, these could be worth tens (if not hundreds) of millions of dollars.
— via: the art newspaper
meant to post this ages ago (still interesting and lovely).