Untitled (Cern, 7.20.12), 2012, archival pigment print, flora form site. 44.5 in x 36 in. Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Rafacz Gallery.

During another trial, Bolen buried film in the ground directly above the LHC. The test resulted in a number of grainy purple and green abstract images that were supposedly generated by residual radioactivity from CERN’s black matter experiments interacting with the film.* As part of a series called 350 Feet Above The Large Hadron Collider (2012), individual images generated from the buried film are affixed with magnets to more conventional photographs of the landscape on top of the LHC. The obscure quality of the abstract pictures is vaguely reminiscent of the low-grade photos of the night sky that conspiracy theorists submit as evidence of UFO’s. Bolen’s pseudo-scientific process has a similar accuracy in that film is a relatively crude barometer for identifying what objects may or may not be floating above the LHC.

350 feet above the Large Hadron Collider #1 (matter/anti-matter), 2012, archival pigment print, flora form site. 44.5 in x 36 in. Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Rafacz Gallery.

It is within this sketchy relationship to verifiable truth that Bolen’s project begins to emerge. It is a well-worn truism that objects within photographs, for all their similarity to reality, are subject to the partisanship of the photographer. Bolen’s process places limitations on that subjectivity by largely taking the photographer’s eye out of the equation, but even that isn’t enough to make truthful representations of what is being signified. Bolen’s pictures – as well as the other bits of information incorporated into his work – function as fragments within an over determined gambit for challenging the tools used to produce knowledge.

But, they also serve as fragments of evidence that illustrate art’s limitations in challenging the production of knowledge. After all, relative to the LHC, the site of the most sophisticated physics experiments in human history, burying film in the dirt isn’t quite the same as splitting atoms. By aping the posture of a scientist in the backyard of a preeminent laboratory, Bolen exposes himself to comparison with genuine physics experts, which is why a straight critique of science and knowledge production seems unlikely. Pictures like the abstractions in 350 Feet Above The Large Hadron Collider exist as splinters of evidence of an event that might have occurred – the interaction between film and radioactivity – as a byproduct of events that have occurred – the collision of particles in the LHC. The images record the presence of invisible forces, even if all they reveal is an undifferentiated static. Placed over top of more conventional pictures of furrowed fields, mountains, and highway streetlights, the audience is privy to only a fractional view of those things too. Bolen’s work, like all art, can only partially explain its own existence.

Untitled (Cern, 7.18.12), 2012, archival pigment print, flora from site 45 in x 36 in. Courtesy of the artist and Andrew Rafacz Gallery

My criticism of this show, and Bolen’s work in general, is that this theme of obfuscation, this tension between what is hidden and what is revealed goes a bit too far. Nothing in the work itself explains the range of unique processes the artist employs for creating an image. The near dozen pieces on display are presented as quizzical provocations that generate plenty of questions but few points of entry for work this conceptually challenging, even within their titles. In Untitled (CERN 7.18.2012), 2012, a picture of austere geometric buildings is framed within the upper right hand corner of a hazy abstract image consisting of a range of analogous greens. Bits of dry grass have been sprinkled over top of the pictures. The juxtaposition of these elements is again mysterious, each one a sliver of information, though their connection is left to interpretation. Color is the only clue for linking the grass to the green abstraction – which was actually created by taking exposures through blades of grass. Unlike Untitled (CERN 7.20.2012), 2012, a second work from the same series whose subject appears to be grass itself, the building picture embedded in Untitled (CERN 7.18.2012) challenges the feedback loop between green and grass. As in previous pieces, the elements in Untitled (CERN 7.18.2012) suggest a clear indexicality, though without more available pathways as to how that index can be referenced, Bolen’s work, which proposes some new and exciting pathways for photography, is masked by its own obscurity.

Jeremy Bolen: CERN is on view at Andrew Rafacz Gallery in Chicago through March 30, 2012.

*Bolen hypothesizes that these images were created in this way, though he emphasized that this explanation is unverified. Information about the artist’s process here and throughout the review was collected through private email exchanges.

The twentieth century has provided a plethora of methods to communicate quickly to the masses, and it is becoming increasingly rare to find anyone taking the time to write a handwritten letter, much less create a large-scale public mural to share ideas with the public. However, for almost all of human history, wall paintings have served as one of the most effective ways to chronicle the events and progress of our time. Artist Josef Kristofoletti has tapped back into this method of communication and it has led him to some amazing places. From the gymnasium of his former high-school to a year long road trip around North America with the Transit Antenna artist collective, Josef’s desire to paint in public spaces has kept him moving. Perhaps the most impressive of these large-scale murals took place at CERN, the world’s largest particle physics laboratory, situated in the Northwest suburbs of Geneva on the Franco–Swiss border. There, Kristofoletti created a four story mural of the ATLAS particle accelerator, directly on the walls that contain the actual structure. Since the completion of the project just a few months ago, I’ve been dying to talk with the artist about his experience of seeing the world’s most ambitious laboratory, as well as the completion of his most impressive mural to date.

Seth Curcio: So Joe, you recently had the unique opportunity to do an artist residency of sorts at the famous CERN, the European Organization of Nuclear Research on the boarder of Switzerland and France. You had the honor of being the first artist invited to produce an original work of art for the organization. Tell me what projects led up to this invitation and how did the world’s largest and most advanced scientific laboratory learn about your work ?

Josef Kristofoletti: In 2008, I made a painting for a two person show with my friend Matt Phillips at Redux Contemporary Art Center. Matt and I had some conversations before the exhibit about what we wanted to show. We talked about the origin of the universe and dark matter, then I decided that I would do something related to CERN. I painted a mural of ATLAS, the largest of the CERN particle detectors. I tried to make the mural scientifically accurate, based on the schematics available on the CERN website. After the show opened it got a little bit of press and a month or so later I got a call from Claudia Marcelloni, the photographer and outreach coordinator for the ATLAS experiment. She told me that they had seen photos of my mural and asked if I might be interested in doing something on location. I couldn’t believe it at first, it just sounded really strange over the phone. We set up a time for a meeting with some of the physicists and I booked a flight to Geneva that same day.

SC: Once you arrived at CERN, the officials gave you a tour of the facility, allowing you, an artist, unprecedented access to such highly restricted laboratories. Tell me a little about what you saw and how it turned into inspiration for the gigantic painting that eventually came to be?

JK: From the airport the CERN shuttle picked me up and took me right inside the lab’s main building. I met with two incredible scientists who work there, senior physicist Michael Barnett who is the head of the Particle Data Group, from Lawrence Berkley National Labs, and Neal Hartman, who engineered the innermost part of ATLAS, the pixel detector. It was a great meeting because they were as excited to talk to me about art as I was in finding out more about super symmetry. We talked about Egyptian sculpture and cinema. Neil has since left his position at CERN to attend film school in London. Anyway, they gave me a tour of the ATLAS facilities and we looked at some of the walls that I could potentially work on. By that time the detector, which is over 90 meters underground, was completely closed off to visitors and gearing up for the cool down process. Before collisions can start the entire 27 km tunnel is chilled with liquid helium to a temperature than is cooler than outer space. As we were talking about the possibilities of the project, my guides realized that I had to see the actual detector in person. After they made a few phone calls, and I started going through the most high secure checkpoint I have ever seen. The workers go through a complex biometric security system that includes a retinal scan. They all wear a dosimeter that measures radiation levels and there are plenty of safety warning labels on everything. We took the elevator down, then stepped out to look at the beast. There were a few men inside the detector doing some last minute work, but they were reduced to ants by huge size of its metal parts . It was sublime.

SC: This sounds amazing! I bet you never imaged in a million years that your research and project about ATLAS would eventually bring you into the exact laboratory that you studied for the mural at Redux Contemporary Art Center. I’d love to hear about some of the technical obstacles that you faced when creating the work, such as the time line needed for creating such an ambitious work, how you selected your subject matter, and dealing with extreme weather on the Franco-Swiss border. I even heard that you became a dad over this whole process. It just seems larger than life, both literally and metaphorically.

JK: I couldn’t get everyone to agree on the location that I wanted for the mural. I really wanted it place directly over the detector itself, and that alone took months. By the time that process was accomplished I had to start right away even though there was no funding for the project yet. I had charged the ticket to a credit card and flew back to Geneva from the United States. My third day there I met a side show performer named Stephan who lived by the train station and offered to let me sleep in his squat. He has this act where he can eat and swallow lit cigarettes. Stephan helped me stay sane for much of the project. There were so many security and safety issues at CERN that every day new problems came up. I had to go through safety courses to get clearance to work on the site and to use the Nacelle lift, which is the machine that was used to assemble the detector itself. I could not afford any assistants because it would have taken many more months of paperwork and training. I worked through French and German interpreters on many of the logistical issues and some of the safety classes. By the time I was able to touch paint to the wall it was October and getting colder every day. One day I couldn’t feel my hand any more and I realized that I had to face reality and come back the following year. I was able to finish the smaller of the two walls by mid November and had to return in June to continue. Halfway through the painting the whole operation was stopped by one of the electrical engineers in charge of safety. I was working right over the transformers and he said that in case of an accident the power supply would be jeopardized to the whole experiment. That stopped me until further security measures were dreamed up.

Every once in a while one of the physicists would confront me, very seriously, about how some part of the detector was not drawn properly. But, I respect that because for many of them this is a life’s work. Some have been there for twenty years going over the smallest details thousands of times. The whole detector is exactly precise to within one millimeter. I tried to explain to them that I was just making a painting. From up it the air I could see Mont Blanc just to my right, and the Jura mountains to my left. When I started on the proposals I found out that my wife was pregnant. My son Daniel was seven months old when I finished the mural. A lot of what has happened I can’t put into words, its been both shocking and beautiful. While I was at CERN I saw a lecture by Stephen Hawking. He was one of my childhood heroes. The first slide he showed said: ‘Why are we here? Where did we come from?’

SC: That all seems like such a feat in itself, not to mention the fact that in the end you created an amazingly ambitious mural that lives up to all the magic that is happening inside the facility. So now that you are back in the US, what kind of projects are you working on, and what do you have coming up?

JK: Just before I came back to the US I went to Fame Festival in Italy and it was one of the most amazing art exhibitions that I have ever seen. It was so cool to see huge paintings by BLU and the other artists, I found that very inspiring. I’m really obsessed with large-scale paintings on walls and I love that the street art phenomenon keeps exploding all over the world.  My next big project, which I’m super excited about working on, will be doing something for the Olympics. Details on that project to come…