Confessions: I hung up on John Baldessari

I have been a lifelong believer in the supernatural. Spurred on by films I was definitely too young to watch, The Craft, The Blair Witch Project, and Candyman, I made Ouija boards to conjure spirits at sleepovers and cast spells that cursed teachers who gave me bad grades. I grew out of it, grew up, and can say I’ve lived a relatively non-haunted life since – until 2017 when John Baldessari started haunting me.

I know what you’re thinking: wait, but Baldessari didn’t die until 2020. Hear me out.

The opportunity to interview Baldessari came to me in 2017, for an exhibition of new works titled Miró and Life in General at Marian Goodman in London. Then approaching his mid-80s, it felt like my last chance to interview the Godfather of Conceptual Art. I was to call Baldessari at his Los Angeles studio, at 10 pm GMT to discuss these new works which featured details from Joan Miró’s paintings paired with Hollywood film stills, each accompanied by a word like “Reliable” or “Necessary.” It was all very ‘make of this what you will’, in classic Baldessari style. I didn’t know what I thought of it, but Baldessari himself was going to give me some clarity.

“Hello?” said Baldessari as he answered the phone.

After introducing myself and relaying the usual pleasantries, I began.

“I’m excited to speak to you about Miró and Life in General.”

“I’m not showing that work.”

I was stumped. “Uhh. At Marian Goodman, you’re showing a series of works…”

“No. I’m not,” he interrupted.

After a futile attempt to convince him, I decided we could circle back later in our call and instead posed some general questions about his work.

“I’ve spoken about all this previously.”

I was crumbling like one of his famous ash cookies. The man was giving me nothing – I’d lost him. And so, I did the only thing I knew: I hung up on John Baldessari.

“Okay, Mr. Baldessari. Thanks for your time,” I said. “Bye.”

But it seems that wasn’t the last of John Baldessari. Or at least the hauntology of him – a term coined by Jacques Derrida in 1993 to describe the return or persistence of elements from the past.

John Baldessari is not the first artist I’ve caught on a bad day, and he won’t be the last. But in the seven years since, every time I sit down to start an interview, I hear that South Californian accent scolding me: “I’m not showing that work.” The chasm of time between asking a question and an artist’s response a fatal drop threatening to swallow my confidence, credibility and career as an art writer. Could it happen again? Would I survive the fall next time?

But art isn’t always about what’s there, it’s also about what isn’t. In hindsight, I ponder, was the man who pioneered an art movement where the idea of the work takes precedence over its traditional aesthetic and material concerns, not being difficult but co-authoring a new work of art with me? The idea of the interview is there, just materially, it isn’t.