Erwin Redl is a digital and new media artist and currently has an exhibit at Emerson College running through Nov. 30. Before the exhibit kicked off, we had a chance to chat with Erwin and gain an insight into his inspiration.

This past weekend I visited the Institute of Contemporary Art and saw the exhibition Street Level. Before seeing Street Level, street art to me was graffiti. However, Street Level shows that street art can be a collage assembling a sneaker, an installation of plenty used speakers, or a photograph sequence showing a skateboarder skating on a chalked-out half-pipe.

This is an interesting show and will be held until Oct. 19. Don’t miss it if you like street art.

There’s been plenty written about Bas Jan Ader in the past few years.  This may be due to the recent romantization of his career (due in part to his rebellion against the “high art” of his day, his unique combination of comedy and poetry, and most of all, his untimely demise), however, I am one to believe that he was a truly brilliant mind speaking to one specific commonality: the human being’s inability to relate with others and the inevitable isolation that follows.  Now more than ever, the delicacy of human interaction strikes true in our lives.  We spend more time communicating with others via the computer screen than we do face to face.

Today, I had the unique experience of touring the SMFA masters thesis studios and talking directly with the artists - face to face.  In doing so, I noticed a trend that many of the artists there (as pointed out by one artist, Andrea Evans, in specific) were attempting to grasp at the difficulties that we all face in relating with each other.  Or, in the terms of Ader (via The Coasters): we’ve all been “Searchin” for a way to break down that barrier and find a way to connect.  But what happens when we finally do?

Below, you will find a formal analysis of Jan Bas Ader’s 1971 work, “I’m Too Sad to Tell You” (arguably, his most famous piece).  In this, I’m not going to try to shove anything down your throat - because frankly, I want you to come to your own conclusions as to why Ader’s work has continued to be resonant nearly 40 years later.

When initially viewing a work of art, an observer takes into account its content, style, and how these together make the viewer feel.  However, the viewer must also take into account how items such as formal content and historical context affect (and possibly manipulate) their feelings toward the work.  Bas Jan Ader’s “I’m Too Sad to Tell You” is a short black and white film shot on 16mm.  The film begins with a handwritten title card, first telling the artist and the year made (1971), and then the title of the film.  The artist, shot in close-up with a grey backdrop, then proceeds to cry (or make himself cry) in front of the camera.  The film amounts to a length of 3 minutes and 34 seconds and as the time progresses, the artist’s sobs grow and diminish in waves.  When I first saw this piece, I was fascinated by the apparent honesty that Ader was exhibiting to his audience.  Obviously, he leaves many questions unanswered (namely: “Why the hell is he crying?”). Nonetheless, he exhibits his human qualities: his frailty and his willingness to express himself freely.  In this paper, I will examine “I’m Too Sad to Tell You” under opposite viewpoints in order to determine what I make of a work that intrigues me so much.

Ader, having lived in California since the early sixties, started becoming recognized for his work in the early 1970’s.  In 1970, he filmed his first in a series of “falls” (in which he filmed himself falling from various states and locations).  In early
1971, Ader took a break from his “fall” series to film “I’m Too Sad to Tell You.”  1971 was also the year that he completed his “fall” series beginning with “Broken Fall (Organic)” in which he hung from a tree branch about twenty-five feet above a shallow creek for approximately a minute and a half, and then proceeded to let go and fall into the creek below.  His piece “Nightfall,” the longest of the fall series at 4 minutes 16 seconds, consists of Ader, in a small room lit by two lights on the floor, lifting a large rock above his head and dropping it on first the right light and then the second light.  In the last of Ader’s “fall” series, “Broken Fall (Geometric),” Ader stood on a cobblestone road next to a police barricade and makes himself trip and fall into the barricade from a standing position.  After completing this series (and “I’m Too Sad to Tell You,” which is not a part of the series), Ader started work on a triptych that he hoped to complete titled “In Search of the Miraculous.”  This work was composed of photographs of Ader wandering L.A. with captions stating “Yeh I’ve been searchin’” (this is a reference to a Coasters song), a “sea shanty” choir performing the Henry Russell song “A Life on the Ocean Wave,” and Ader’s final voyage in a small sailboat from Cap Cod, MA to Falmouth, England.  Ader considered his performance voyage along with the choir performance as the second part of his triptych, but never completed his work.  In 1976, about a year after he had set sail, Ader’s boat was found in Ireland and he was “declared lost at sea.” (from Jan Verwoert’s 2006 book, Bas Jan Ader: In Search of the Miraculous).

Bas Jan Ader’s “I’m Too Sad to Tell You,” is a work of art made by a Conceptual artist in a time defined by artistic and cultural rebellion.  Ader’s piece contextually fits into the start of the seventies rebellion of the cultural norm.  The simplicity of the piece is derived from the fact that Ader “boil[s] the representation of grand emotion down to its most basic form, a picture of someone crying in closeup” (Verwoert 18).  The revolutionary and rebellious mindset of the seventies opened the door for Conceptual artists to freely express their minds, be it politically or existentially.  Ader, though his life and career were cut short, was a part of this mindset and can be easily categorized as such.  His abstract works were well received in the seventies and were highly influential in the development of Conceptual art.  Contextually, Bas Jan Ader was a product of his environment and in turn, his environment was heavily affected and influenced by his work.

It’s pointless to discuss why Ader is crying because frankly, he was too sad to tell us his intent.  However, when considering his work as a whole and within its context, it is still appropriate to question the implications of his tears.  When reviewing Ader’s works, it could be determined that he was a man driven mostly by romantic ideals.  His work could be an expression of his search for love (the miraculous), willingness to “fall” for love, and as expressed in “I’m Too Sad to Tell You,” his regret over love lost.   This may seem like a farfetched and unfounded claim, but due mostly to Ader’s untimely death, his body of works has been heavily romanticized.  As a result, Ader has been proclaimed as a “wandering tragic hero on a quest for the sublime” (Verwoert 3).  In this case, “I’m Too Sad to Tell You” could be an expression of Ader’s ability to express his femininity.

Ader’s works could also be easily read with a tongue and cheek sense of humor.  It’s safe to say that the components that make up the “fall” series are also the essence of slapstick comedy.  Also, I would like to point out that “Searchin’” by The Coasters is an extremely light hearted song and by using it as an inspiration for his abbreviated triptych, he had to have had some sense of humor (or at least some sense of hope in finding what he was searching for).  In this light, “I’m Too Sad to Tell You” aligns with its context in that it could be viewed as Ader’s humorous rebellion against the conceptual art world:
“According to his friend Bill Leavitt, Ader considered cool California hipster artists like Alan Ruppersberg or Jack Goldstein a bit of a joke, and was apparently quite prepared to make a bigger joke, at the considerable risk of blowing his own cool cover in the process.
For example, in one of his more famous pieces, I’m Too Sad To Tell You (1970), the handsome artist is crying in front of the camera, exhibiting an overt ‘femininity’ that we can readily appreciate today but which would have been wholly unacceptable in the macho artworld of California in the 1960s, had it not been for the implied irony of the piece.” (From Rene Daalder: http://www.contemporarymagazine.com/feature60.htm)
If this viewpoint is true, Ader’s willingness to rebel against his contemporaries and their ideals would strongly reflect the rebellious nature of the time period in which he produced his work.

Whenever I view the work, I find it to be not only fascinating, as I stated earlier, but also to be very calming and serene.  This is due mainly to its simplicity.  Bas Jan Ader, who I view to be simply curious as to what would happen if he were to cry in front of a camera, shot “I’m Too Sad to Tell You.”  However, when examined along with its context and related content, it surely would have been a jarring sight to see a man crying so accessibly to his audience.  “I’m Too Sad to Tell You” could be purely viewed as a beautiful action, but also as a tactful, well-addressed rebellion against gender roles and the “coolness” of masculinity.  Ader was willing to put himself in front of the camera to first be viewed in such a feminine and “uncool” way.  This requires a great sense of humor and awareness of the world around him.  What I originally made of Ader’s work and what I make of Ader’s work within its context are two very different things.  This variation in theories surrounding the piece also establishes a beauty of mystery in “I’m Too Sad to Tell You.”  As expressed by the title, there is no apparent answer to why Ader is crying, and thus there is no specific reason given to the audience.  All we can determine is that he is somehow crying, and it is up to the viewer to determine why (if they even choose to do so).  Due to the ambiguity of “I’m Too Sad to Tell You,” the duality of my interpretations can exist in Ader’s world because there is no right or wrong answer.