Over a decade since Mike Kelley's death (Detroit, 1954 – Los Angeles, 2012), London's Tate Modern is hosting a retrospective of the American artist's work, entitled Ghost and Spirit. The exhibition is open until 9 March 2025 and has been curated by Catherine Wood and Fiontán Moran1. Conveying the life, career and thought of such a complex and unclassifiable intellectual through an exhibition is no easy task. Yet it would be a shame not to try. Pirelli HangarBicocca in Milan previously undertook a similar endeavour in 2013 with Eternity is a Long Time, an exhibition curated by Emi Fontana and Andrea Lissoni2. This event offered visitors an intense and in-depth exploration of Mike Kelley’s universe, revealing the intricate interplay of diverse cultural elements that were all ultimately connected to his artistic research. Although his name is often associated with critiques of consumerism and popular culture, reducing his practice to such simple dichotomies would be misleading. His work resists clear-cut categorisation, and his interests were so numerous and multifaceted that attempting to list them all would result in a sterile inventory incapable of conveying the complexity of his vision. Therefore, my intention is not to fall into adversarial binaries or simplistic oppositions. However, I also believe it would be inappropriate to overlook his connections with architecture, psychoanalysis, and underground music, all of which shaped his interpretation of the world and his understanding of the state of things. However, what makes his legacy so valuable today goes beyond these aspects. Without detracting from his visionary and rebellious nature, as well as his passion for understanding the world around him, perhaps what interests us most today — or at least what I find particularly meaningful and 'useful' to explore — is his radical challenge to artistic and commercial conventions. Despite Kelley's commitment to exposing the tensions and contradictions of contemporary society, many of these dynamics appear to persist today. This raises the question of what we can learn from Kelley in order to subvert the 'usual rules' that continue to govern the art system and market. One possible starting point for reflection on this issue is the artist’s relationship with trauma, which might shed light on new ways of resisting and transforming the status quo. First, however, we must ask ourselves whether this aspect of his practice can help us to better understand the toxic dynamics that continue to recur in the art world. While confronting pain is arguably more transformative than avoiding it, are we truly ready to undergo this process? Treccani defines the word 'trauma' — derived from the Greek τραῦμα (-ατος), meaning 'wound' — as an alteration of an individual’s psychological state3. This definition is not so far removed from Rosalind Krauss's line of thought in 1978:
However, as this is a historical question, it is important to look beyond mere description and consider deeper issues. What does the transition to postmodernism entail, and what were its fundamental causes and conditions? How is a given field structured by cultural opposition? This approach to the history of forms differs radically from historicist criticism, which focuses entirely on constructing increasingly elaborate genealogies. It presupposes an acceptance of definitive ruptures and the possibility of viewing the historical process from the standpoint of a logical structure4.
After all, is trauma not a form of 'rupture'? What basis do certain events have to become imprinted in our memory while others fade into obscurity? If creating such significant works testifies to an artist’s intimate understanding of the aesthetics of trauma, perhaps we can discern a message: that wounds can be healed, transformed or at least eased.
1 https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/mike-kelley-ghost-and-spirit 2 https://pirellihangarbicocca.org/mostra/mike-kelley-eternity-is-a-long-time/ 3 https://www.treccani.it/vocabolario/trauma/ 4 R. Krauss, La scultura nel campo allargato, 1978, p. 297
Kelley explores themes of alienation, vulnerability, and memory, creating installations and artworks that challenge social conventions and the concept of identity itself5. His ability to transform pain and anguish into art invites audiences to reflect on their own experiences and the human condition. This is evident in works such as Educational Complex (1995), in which Kelley transforms the personal into the universal by drawing on his own experiences to interrogate broader social issues. This piece is emblematic, offering a kind of mental map of memory's omissions and constructions and reflecting on the influence of institutions and the potentially deceptive nature of recollection. Art thus emerges as a powerful instrument of protest and introspection, a meeting point between the artist’s legacy and the dynamics of the contemporary world. From this perspective, the very act of making art takes on a political dimension, becoming a potential antidote to the dominance of economic logic.
We might describe this approach as punk, but are we certain that it lies at the opposite end of the spectrum from pop and popular culture? The relationship between the avant-garde and pop (or, as Clement Greenberg would have put it, between the avant-garde and kitsch) is a familiar and thorny question, fraught with pitfalls and often subject to simplistic interpretations. However, what remains undeniable is the sociopolitical function of the distinction between culture and Culture, and between popular and aristocratic culture6.
In this regard, I believe that the following reflection by Clement Greenberg in his text The Adventure of Modernism (1960) is worth quoting:
We know what happened in the case of religion, for example, which could not rely on Kantian immanentism to legitimise itself. At first glance, the arts might appear to be in a similar position. Deprived by the Enlightenment of any tasks they could claim as their own, it seemed that the arts were destined to become mere entertainment, while entertainment itself appeared to be heading towards becoming therapy. However, the arts could save themselves from this process by demonstrating that the experience they offer has intrinsic value, which cannot be found in any other activity7.
But can we really be certain that art has been 'flattened'? Don't artists like Mike Kelley continue to offer us hope in this regard? After all, isn't art the most powerful tool we have for asking questions? The Emperor's New Clothes?
5 M. E. Giacomelli, Di tutto un pop. Un percorso fra arte e scrittura nell’opera di Mike Kelley, Johan & Levi Editore, 2014, p. 55
7 C. Greenberg, L’avventura del modernismo, Johan & Levi Editore, 1960, pp. 117 – 118