Redefining Painting Through Technology and Reproduction: Interview With Wade Guyton (Interviewed by Tomohiro Masuda)

Wade Guyton's solo exhibition, Thirteen Paintings, is on view at Espace Louis Vuitton Tokyo until March 16, 2025.

Born in 1972 in Hammond, Indiana, USA, Guyton lives and works in New York. He is renowned for his conceptually rigorous works spanning photography, sculpture, video, books, and paintings. Known for his large-scale inkjet-printed canvases, Guyton merges traditional media with digital processes, creating unexpected results through the deliberate misuse of technology. He is one of the most influential artists of his generation, reflecting on and producing images in the digital age.

This exclusive exhibition is part of the Fondation Louis Vuitton’s “Hors-les-murs” program, which showcases previously unseen holdings from the Collection at Espaces Louis Vuitton worldwide. The exhibition features Untitled (2022), a series of thirteen paintings publicly displayed for the first time. Tomohiro Masuda, a researcher and curator at the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo, spoke with Guyton, who visited Japan for the exhibition. Their conversation delved into the intentions behind the unique design of the venue and the ideas that resonate throughout the series.

Exploring the physicality of stacked paintings

——On the occasion of his exhibition in Tokyo in 2020, British painter Peter Doig told me that his impression of the painting changed every time he saw it exhibited. Precisely, he said, “oil paint is on the move.” I hear it is your first opportunity to see this work since you let go of it. Would you say the same about your work with inkjet ink? Was there any physical or psychological change?

I haven't looked at these paintings in almost two years―they were made as a group that would stay together as a single work, and this is the first time they've been shown. I believe that works are not complete until they're exhibited because they take the exhibition’s context and space into account and drag that history along with them. These thirteen paintings are intended as a “stack,” so they are always in physical contact and visual dialogue with each other. Some paintings in this exhibition depict and contain each other, but the physical arrangement can change. 

When we first discussed showing the paintings here, I was interested in the transparency of the walls―the glass windows―and realized that the exterior could also be brought into dialogue with the works. There are also images of my studio’s windows in the paintings.

——You decided on the exhibition layout this time, but is it appropriate for the owner of works to arbitrarily display the work as they want?

People often want me to have an opinion, but I won't be around forever, either. Of course, some rules go with my work. For example, the paintings are hung at a specific height because I want a specific physical relationship. People usually hang paintings relatively high to have experience with the head, but I prefer a more bodily experience. 

Hanging paintings on the windows was also a rather radical decision. Similar to the stacking of the paintings, this would be difficult, if not impossible, for a curator or a museum to suggest. So, it is imperative that I give permission. However, I'm open to seeing how the work can live outside my involvement. 

——I was surprised to see your works stacked at the Beyeler Foundation. Indeed, it is rather challenging to display works in such a manner just from curatorial decisions. This is especially true for works without frames because they must be protected. Taking a painting down from the wall and letting it slide from the vertical to the horizontal reminds me of Robert Rauschenberg's “combine paintings,” which can be seen as both paintings and sculptures. In your work, the stacked paintings emphasize their physical existence, not only the volume but the sides that stand out. Is it intentional? 

This is how paintings are often stored in my studio. I don’t identify as a painter. I often also call the paintings “objects” and think of them architecturally or in relation to my body. Physically, the stacks feel like sculptures. 

When stacked, different aspects of the artwork come to light―you suddenly only see the edges. In modernism, you always look at the edge of a painting, but with ongoing digitalization, how we look at art today has become very flat. Seeing the sides of paintings is, in a way, a strange experience.  

——Why the number “13”?

It's a good size for the stack. If it gets thinner, it doesn't have the right volume, and more is too much weight. You must also have an uneven number when you stack them to have one facing the viewer.

Boundaries of instability and abstraction

——The installation and the pipe structure suggest that this place is in the process of producing work and evokes a provisional sense. For example, the painting put on against the wall could be replaced with other paintings on different occasions, right? I feel there is an underlying theme in the back-and-forth between production and distribution, don’t you think?

Some works are documenting paintings being made or moments in time, like reading the news while I'm in the studio. There's a long history of using newspapers in collages and modern art, but what you see here is a news website. The ads and headlines are constantly changing and it is a portal to many information channels. The paintings fix this instability for a moment. Moreover, the work becomes an archive of its own making. Combined with the pipe structure, there is openness, variability, and instability. 

——I also see very abstract imagery. How should one interpret that? 

The abstractions are images of my previous works that have been expanded or enlarged. They become abstract, and they, of course, dialogue with a history of abstraction. These works are not paintings, but they are. I ask myself, “What can a painting be today?” or “How do I make a work that is in dialogue with art history and feels authentic in the present?” 

In a way, this show may be about “painting,” but I am approaching it from a different angle because of the technology I use. I'm constantly zooming in, either into technology or my experience, but I am also trying to zoom out to allow the outside world into the studio and to understand these unclear boundaries. 

Materiality beyond ink and canvas

——Your way of making a work by printing it multiple times reminds me of Gerhard Richter's method of creating abstract paintings. Both are very mechanical procedures. Richter’s picture plain does not reflect subjectivity. He creates a painting, repeatedly applying the paint with the squeegee as well as removing it. Finally, he eliminates subjectivity as much as possible and allows objective images to be created. However, it is impossible to dismiss the subjectivity completely. In his case, subjectivity is reduced to a matter of choice, like what color to use, how much pressure to apply with the squeegee, and where to consider the work finished. In your conversation with Gary Garrels, you said, “I make paintings, but I don't think of myself as a painter.” Richter also defines himself not as a painter (Maler) but as an image maker (Bildermacher). What do you think of defining you as an image maker? And what do you think of Richter's work?

There is a similarity in the idea of being interested in the materiality of a painting. For instance, I think about the materiality of ink and canvas, but also beyond that. On some level, it is various kinds of information interacting, sometimes literally language. When the painting is made, the printer’s head moves from left to right, top to bottom. Therefore, works are being produced in a methodical and technological way that relates to writing or typing.

My earliest works were on paper using a printer and language, and rather than making images, I was thinking about writing and the object’s physicality. However, there is a similarity in the analysis of the material and the information. For me, questions of literal, photographic information combined with indexical marks—like how the ink drips versus how the ink is dragged across another painting—are also on my mind. 

——Could you tell me about the making process? Is there a manual process involved?

Essentially, the works come from a digital source, but some marks are made by handling the materials. For example, I fold the linen canvas, put it through the printer, then print the other side. Because of the method of folding, I don't always see the complete work, and incidents may happen—sometimes, the wet ink imprints onto another painting when it lies on the floor. A lot of physical contact happens during the production process and when the paintings are stacked, but they also react to the studio’s environment. When the humidity is high, the paintings are extremely wet. But in the winter, when the air is dry, the paintings are very crisp. Essentially, my hand is on everything, but it's somewhat invisible. 

——Some paintings have interesting marks that were made by the printer or some kind of error. 

Some marks come from wet ink during the printing or folding process, and sometimes, extra ink spills inside the printer and creates drips from gravity. However, there are also printed images of the drips. 

Inkjet innovation and painting in the digital age

——Have you tried using printers other than Epson or ordering from a supplier?

I have done both, but generally, I use Epson printers. These inkjet printers were developed to destroy photography as we knew it and end darkroom production―this industry changed the course of image making, and Epson is at the top of it. I find it interesting to stay with an industry whose standards are not mine but also to be subject to and dependent on them. Above all, I'm using the machine in a way it's not meant to be used. Epson makes a new model and new and “improved” inks every few years, and I need to figure out how to do something they don't want me to do again. 

As an artist, I understand the history of the readymade or the diminishment of the artist's hand. But I'm also realistic about what the readymade is now. For artists, there is an unrealistic expectation of freedom and the tools we have. The romanticized freedom of making art depends on limits imposed by industry and technology.

——Do you have any standards for saying that the painting is complete? 

If we are talking about individual objects, the painting is complete once I've stretched it because I can't go back and edit it, unlike a regular painter. As for this group of paintings, there were many other works to select from, but the narrative, the structure, the tone, and the visual nature came together organically. Some paintings moved aside, and these emerged as having dialogue among themselves. I might not show these paintings alone because they need context―some are stronger or more interesting in dialogue with others. 

——How did you come up with the idea of using the printer?

The idea first occurred in the early 2000s when I made drawings by hand. A small printer was sitting on my desk, and I thought it would work better than my hand. I thought, “I’m not a painter, but how would I make a painting?” So, instead of paper, I started using linen, a larger printer, and so on. But essentially, it was a solution to a labor problem.

——Were you interested in the idea of reproduction? You come from a place not necessarily surrounded by art, so I assumed you started reproducing images or copies. Did that affect your interest in using the printer?

I grew up in rural Tennessee without access to an art museum. My only access to art in university was through magazines and books, so my understanding of art history developed through printed material. My first works on paper also used torn pages, and I still work this way sometimes. I became interested in postmodernism and appropriation artists of the 80s, such as Sherrie Levine, but also Richard Hamilton, and Marcel Broodthaers. It wasn't a strict interest in the Pictures Generation only but from many different directions. My professor at Hunter College, Robert Morris, was also influential to me.

——I feel that using digital technology to create works with reproduction images is very relevant to people like us in the Far East. Thank you for your time.