by Robert C. Morgan

published in A Tribute to Alain Kirili, edited by Robert C. Morgan and Carter Ratcliff, in The Brooklyn Rail, November 2021

The opportunity to read these memorial statements on the persistently brilliant Alain Kirili, has been both a pleasure and an undeniably moving experience. Written by friends and colleagues of the artist, these commentaries represent what might be considered a culminating reference taken directly from the professional art world.

While in the process of going through these curiously diverse reflections, I discovered a host of thoughtfully expressed emotions delivered in various styles of inquiry. In several cases, those who met Kirili on a professional level would eventually develop a friendship with the artist, perhaps less on formal grounds than on feelings of kinship with a sculptor who has moved beyond the threshold of sculpture as a purely static entity.

Given the fact that he modified his loft into a working studio, there was always new art to be seen over the course of several visits. Mary Jones has commented on “Alain’s insistent resolve to live in an atmosphere that was creative and positive.” The implications are that given the artist possessed these qualities, why not transform one’s space into who one is?

From a similar perspective, the artist Rebecca Smith noted that Kirili, even at an advanced stage in his career, encouraged drawing from the nude—“maintaining that it was essential to making abstract sculpture.” How many artists would have seen this connection? In a similar vein, Michael Attias recalls Kirili’s phrase as he was in the process of finishing one of his sculptures, that his work represented “the final assault against puritanism.” This, in fact, was an ongoing theme in the work of the artist.

In observing musicians performing amidst the sculptures in Kirili’s studio, Ned Rothenberg metaphorically observes “a multiplicity of parallel lines in the creative process of musical improvisations and visual artists.” Critic Barry Schwabsky keenly observes on another occasion the presence of “linear sculptures in forged iron mounted atop blocks of color painted on the wall.” Whereas drawings on large sheets of paper have accompanied Kirili’s sculpture in the past, Schwabsky notes in this installation the manner in which the painted forms on the wall unite with the forged iron, thus bringing sculpture together with painting and architecture.

A further observation of interest is offered by poet Vincent Katz who makes a reference to the studio performances, remarking on how “the intelligence [Kirili] and Ariane brought to these soirees remains inspiring years or decades after the last note has dies out.” Perhaps Katz is correct—that performances combined with the stillness of material held the propensity to re-define one another. Indeed, this was the origin that brought this series of evening events together. Kirili would envision the intervention of musicians, dancers, and poets as becoming part of the work, thereby, further enlivening the space in relation to the presence of sculpture.

For nearly 40 years, my relationship with Alain Kirili maintained a vivid, if not vital closeness despite the occasional complexities and professional conflicts likely to occur in any long-term relationship. The most prominent of which occurred shortly after the publication of my book on Kirili’s artistic career with Flammarion in Paris. Although the reason for his temporary withdrawal was never made clear, I always felt that Alain considered our relationship of primary importance. I can say that in the final stages of organizing the book, we were both inextricably and interactively tied to the artistry of what we were doing. For Kirili, participation in art on any level provided the necessary link that kept a friendship intact. In this context, we remained actively involved up until his final days.”