Immaterial

Sherri Irvin contends that rules offer a way into the puzzling state of today's art. At first glance, contemporary work can look like a jumble: sculptures built from bathroom tissue, sweets meant to be eaten, or flesh discarded once an exhibition closes. Some pieces crowd a gallery with painstakingly produced objects, while others present nothing but ideas, thoughts, or words. Irvin's central claim is that, beneath this apparent disorder, many artists deliberately set rules when they create their pieces, and that this practice helps account for the growth of installation, conceptual, time-based media, and participatory art.

Rules, in Irvin's account, have become a material in their own right, forming part of a work's structure and guiding what it expresses. They carry meaning on their own and can bring everyday objects and found items to life, so viewers who understand the governing rules tend to get far more from an encounter with a piece. The book also explores the fragility of rules. Losing track of them can damage an artwork as seriously as chipping away at a block of marble, which is prompting museums to conserve the instructions behind works alongside the objects themselves.

Irvin examines what happens when rules meet real-world conditions. Rules may be violated deliberately, by accident, or for justifiable reasons, and such breaches can undermine a work's meaning or even its survival. The book closes by asking whether the growing prominence of rules in contemporary art deserves applause. Irvin's answer is qualified: rules are often handled poorly, yet when used well they produce distinctive meanings and immersive experiences that no other approach could deliver.