CHICAGO — Thirty years ago, when Nick Cave made his first Soundsuit — creating the foundation of what would become hundreds of signature costumes and sculptures, assembled with beads, old toys, stuffed animals, synthetic hair and sequins — he wrote in his journal that he was “working toward what I’m leaving behind.” He repeated this often in subsequent decades until it sounded like a mantra or a promise. His first Soundsuit was made in 1992, in response to the acquittal of Los Angeles police officers who beat Rodney King, sparking days of unrest. Made of twigs that Cave gathered in Grant Park, just outside his office then at School of the Art Institute, it gave some shape to his future:
His Soundsuits became reminiscent of the crafting traditions of his family in Missouri, but also resembled the present. They asked how an artist should generate feeling. They advocated for a better tomorrow. They were approachable, sometimes joyful Muppets. And they could appear both prosaic and unsettling, submerging whoever climbed into one, erasing gender and race. When moved, they made noise, offering a new language.
They suggested pelts and bouquets and plumages and parades; they brought together African dance and Carnival and Christmas trees, and seemed to erupt from the ground.
They made him famous.
Thirty years later, on a recent morning, walking through the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, surrounded now by years of work made in response to ongoing violence against people of color, it was hard not to think about what Cave hoped to work toward, and leave behind. There were works made in response to the killing of Trayvon Martin, and a forest of gun-patterned wind spirals made in response to Chicago gun violence.
Cave paused in front of a group of somber, forlorn Soundsuits, made in 2011 of black mother-of-pearl buttons, with large pewter-looking megaphones where heads should be.
“Again, this is just me responding to all the (expletive),” he sighed.
We were walking through “Forothermore,” Cave’s first major career retrospective, which recently opened at the MCA and runs through Oct. 2. When he initially discussed the exhibition with curator Naomi Beckwith, he saw retrospectives as time travel, marked by celebratory exuberance. The artist, now 63, began new Soundsuits for the show that imagined him as a 16-year-old, picturing 2022. And then George Floyd was murdered.
He scrapped the nostalgia.
He went with funeral shrouds.
To paraphrase something Beckwith (formerly the senior curator at the MCA, now chief curator at the Guggenheim) writes in the catalog: Not much changes, and yet it must.
“At the end of the day, so much of the work you see here is now behind me,” Cave said. “I’m in a different mindset, and I’m moving into painting and more into bronze works.”
Still, as varied, moving and immersive as “Forothermore” ultimately turned out, Soundsuits remain the centerpiece; indeed, last month Cave finished a vast mosaic for New York City subway stations, working Soundsuits into permanent murals. And through Sept. 7, a choreographed video of Soundsuits in motion will be projected twice a night against the facade of theMart (better known as the Merchandise Mart).
“Forothermore” also includes a dozen new Soundsuits and fresh versions of older ones. We asked Cave to walk us through the highlights of the show’s Soundsuit. At the center of that centerpiece is a connection between Cave then and now. We’ll start here:
“Amalgam” (2021)
Made with: Bird figurines, tree branches, a mannequin.
It doesn’t look like a Soundsuit, but Cave reassures it is. Made of bronze. It looks exhausted, disarmingly casual for a statue, legs splayed, one arm braced against a stool. Its headdress — sprouts of branches and birds — has a Tim Burton fever-dream eeriness. “I wanted it to suggest taking a moment,” Cave said. “There is so much to take in now, it needs a minute.” That surface of roses and underbrush was cast in rubber and then applied to a mannequin. Branches were found in Garfield Park, the birds at thrift stores. “Everything gets a mold. It’s like 10 processes. Branches alone are about 40 pieces. The hands are mine. I sat in this position then (the mannequin) was arranged.”
“Soundsuit” (2019)
Made with: Copper molds, shoestrings, stuffed animals, sunglass lenses, pony beads.
This one started with more joy, in anticipation of the retrospective. “But when George Floyd happened, everything I was doing coalesced into a veil-like surface. What’s on the floor is what I call the emotional spill. I decided to just leave the excess material. I wanted to leave this feeling of pulling out my emotions and staying raw, just sort of standing in a space of pain and sorrow. I thought, ‘should I be cutting these off?’ And ‘No, this is how I am feeling.’” The surrounding Soundsuits are similarly mournful, draped in black, then covered in rows of faux flowers, vintage materials and sequined appliques. “There was supposed to be more metal, and the next phase of the Soundsuits, but then I just covered all of that up, to sort of communicate the moment.”
“Soundsuit” (2015)
Made with: Synthetic hair, metal, a mannequin.
“This is me wanting to eliminate myself from the usual materials. Most of these (Soundsuits) come out of an abundance of materials, and this one is a single element. I wanted to create a different sensation and vibration with this one. You want a viewer to imagine what it looks like in motion.”
“TM13″ (2015)
Made with: Pipe cleaners, beads, vintage blow-mold toys.
The mannequin appears bound in a fishing net and obscured. “I made this after Trayvon Martin’s death. It’s a web that the figure is caught inside. But if you look at the bottom, I made sure to have part of a sneaker poking out. I wanted that little note of humanity.”
“Soundsuit” (2022)
Made with: Beads, plastic thrift store toys, hot pads, fishing tackle, fabrics.
Created as an homage to Easter in Missouri, where he grew up with seven brothers. “This is supposed to be what it felt like then, full of opulence. We would have this huge crazy egg hunt and dress up very nicely and get told we were so handsome, and I wanted to capture that extreme attention. The rabbit at the top, I moved it around until I came up with where its placement should be, then I filled in the rest. The rabbit was found at an antique store and used to be part of the display for a Russell Stover candy store. It’s fabulous. A lot of the other toys came from antique malls. We used to do this twice a year — we would fly out to Washington State and rent a cargo van and just shop at antique stores all the way back to Chicago, and that’s how I found a lot of materials.”
“Soundsuit” (2011)
Made with: Twigs, upholstery, a basket (for the head).
A replica of his first Soundsuit. The original is owned by a local collector who didn’t want to loan it to the show (which travels to New York in November). “This is me looking back at my starting point, seeing things take shape, realizing how to build volume. It’s a disguise, but also a hybrid, and certainly tribal. I think I’ve done 20 twig suits since ‘92.”
“Soundsuit” (2014)
Made with: Wire, bugle beads, fabric, buttons, antique sifter.
A continuation of his 2011 installation “Speak Louder” featuring seven megaphone-headed figures joined together beneath a single flowing fabric made of mother-of-pearl buttons. That piece was partly about “wondering how we move together in protest.” This is “echoing alarm, and thinking about who is targeted and who is profiled. The interesting thing about the blue and black one (beside it) is I was thinking police uniform, but when lit you can see it’s red, black and green, colors of the African American flag.”
“Soundsuit” (2012)
Made with: Metal toy tops, globes, noisemakers, doilies, a rug.
“These things just made sense together to me. At the bottom, that’s a Humpty Dumpty toy box I found thrifting. The rest, it’s the way the world looks. It’s fragile, yet larger than life and ideas are swirling around my head. I thought of the doilies almost as medallions, and to have a craft element to honor traditions that seem almost nonexistent. It’s collaging in the moment. Each of these (Soundsuits) takes a month or so. Depends. Four people work on it (in his Old Irving Park studio). But nothing is sketched out. It’s improvisatory. That’s what I have always liked about making these. It’s fluid, loose and each one kind of reminds you that sometimes you have accept things as they come.”
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“Forothermore” runs through Oct. 2 in the Griffin Galleries of Contemporary Art at the Museum of Contemporary Art, 220 E. Chicago Ave.; 312-280-2660 and mcachicago.org
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