The Ideal Bauhaus Artist
Art, production and training were interconnected at the historic Bauhaus. But does the same apply to the works of Jak R. Maier? In the following, curator Nina Wiedemeyer discusses his connection to the Bauhaus and describes the open-ended process of getting to know this relatively unknown artist.
While preparing for the exhibition, we sometimes got the feeling that the estate of Jakob (Jak) R. Maier might have been an ingenious art project by his wife Marianne with cleverly placed hints and suggestions interspersed throughout. In her handwritten testament, she justified her decision to bequeath the estate to the Bauhaus-Archiv because her husband had been the “ideal Bauhaus artist”. His works are signed “Professor of the University of the Arts”. The door plate reading “Metal Workshop” implies that it had originally designated her husband’s workplace at the Berlin art school. However, when we contacted Maier’s former university colleagues, they doubted he had ever actually worked in the workshop.
The ideal Bauhaus artist?
Despite the stringency of Maier’s clearly defined contours and forms, his relationship to the Bauhaus-Archiv Berlin and a decisive part of his career remain a mystery. None of our colleagues can recall the artist or any connection to him. Before our exhibition project, the Internet came up empty in the search for Jak R. Maier. In the archive at the University of the Arts, we find records on his appointment as a professor. Moments of his life are bureaucratically documented. When Marianne Maier described him as the “ideal Bauhaus artist”, was she referring to the abstraction in his work, the combination of art and teaching oriented toward technique and handicraft? At the historic Bauhaus, there was a metal workshop which was headed by an artist and a craftsman. The students received both technical and artistic training.
Maier was indeed trained as an artisan metalsmith, but we have no documentation of Maier’s coursework. The archive of the University of the Arts does not keep teaching concepts, only personnel files. We have no way of knowing what and whom Maier taught, what methods he used, whether he was a strict or grumpy instructor, whether he helped his students carry out their projects with passion and enthusiasm, or rather kept his knowledge for himself. There are no material traces of Maier’s teaching activities. This reflects how little the art industry values artistic training – and not just in Maier’s case. We don’t know whether documents of his teaching activities were lost or Maier himself never kept them. But we do see that he meticulously archived his artworks – all the way back to the beginning of his apprenticeship.
Room for the unexpected
When objects cross the threshold of a museum, the rules of the living are superseded by the rules of conservation. By “living”, I mean the fragility of humans and things – the quality of incessant change. Museums devote significant staff resources and energy to slow down, arrest and conceal the processes of decay. Consequently, museums strictly limit the contact people have with the objects in their care. In Maier’s case, we must ask what value these artworks have for us when their (only) connection to the Bauhaus is found in his wife’s last will and testament. What resources should we invest in their conservation? These questions inspired us to create a project that offers room for debate on such unresolved issues.
An important moment in the process was when we decided not to regard the estate as already indexed and evaluated, and not to focus on presenting the artworks.
In my role as a curator, this means allowing for spontaneity and sharing the joy of collaborative creation – as well as rejection. The project is based on a strong partnership between curators and designers. We have interwoven spontaneity throughout the exhibition period. With every unpacking event (accompanying series, ed.), the exhibition will change. The designers will follow the discussions closely and then translate the results in various forms of presentation. An important moment in the process was when we decided not to regard the estate as already indexed and evaluated, and not to focus on presenting the artworks. Rather, we wanted to make the working process itself visible. The surprising bequest was also an occasion to reflect on our societal responsibility to preserve our shared heritage. How do we want to invest our resources? I believe that engaging in a debate about open processes and lively co-determination is one of the core tasks of a museum.