Tzara and On Kawara

Tristan Tzara sends On Kawara an instant message from the grave. "Can I interview you?"
On Kawara's away message replies: "I am still alive. On Kawara. 12:44am."

Tzara: I saw your date paintings at a show the other day. I didn't understand them. Why are they so neatly organized? Why do you use text but only dates? ? I thought I was a strong mind seeing clearly, only disorder and free flow of our mad world should be channeled into art, but standing before your sober, definite work without possibility of argument, I find myself a child; frightened by small monochrome paintings with white letters proclaiming the date.

Kawara: I don't give interviews. Language is un-trustworthy and insufficient.

Tzara: Well, I once said that I am against systems, objectivity and harmony, and trying to explain rationally, by thought, what people actually think. So I sort of agree with you on language, but I find that your artworks use a kind of objectivity that doesn't necessarily relate to the weak rationality that I despise. So could we try to fling our words against the brick wall like cans of yellow paint and look closely into the paint splatter, simply because we have these interesting ideas or non-ideas, even if all we've made are useless rorschach blobs?

Kawara: You already know my thoughts. "I don't know." It is widely published and admired.
I will not discuss what led up to the creation of this series, but I will order before you the sequences of steps that produced a painting.

Tzara: "I GOT UP AT/ 4:44 A.M." Step 1?

Kawara: Yes. Later I begin work. I choose from 8 sizes of prestretched canvas. The smallest is 8x10 inches. The largest is 61x89 inches. All of these frames are two inches thick. The smaller ones are easy to produce while traveling. I have produced works in 80 towns around the world.

Tzara: Okay, step two, sure. Are you sure you don't want to tell me how you thought of these?

Kawara: I don't want to talk about my ideas. You can talk about my ideas if you want to.

Tzara: No, I don't think so. You were saying?

Kawara: I build up four layers of paint for the undercoat, smoothing when necessary after it dries. This produces a flat finish, like factory paint. I use a matte look with subdued tones. I paint from the center outwards.

Tzara: I think that's part of what makes your art intimidating. It has a strong physical presence that comes from an appearance of a solid graspable object, something more substantial than mere canvass, like plastic or metal, like a plaque on the wall.

Kawara: I see.

Tzara: Although the art that my school produced appears completely different from your work, this materiality exactly matches my definition of the "new painter." I did suggest, however that he would not actually paint but use raw materials, stone, wood, etc., but you have brought the two together. It does not seem illusionistic to me, but a whole new reality.

Kawara: hmm, okay. I've heard that elsewhere.

Tzara: Your lettering is also very precise. I've heard that you do it by hand. We who do Dada were delighted to experiment with the typographic, and some used custom made fonts and printing blocks, but I've never seen handmade typography with such precision. With your skills, you could have created extravagant work with many fonts that would blow the minds of lesser men.

Kawara: I'm not going to talk about font choices.