A Celebration of an Icon of Minimalism
On the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the commissioning of Donald Judd’s seminal minimalist work, triangular sculpture, Untitled, 1974-75, VAULT spoke to Art Gallery of South Australia, Curator of Prints, Drawings & Photographs, Maria Zagala , about how this seminal work came to Adelaide.
Image credit: Donald Judd at 101 Spring Street, New York,1972; photo © Paul Katz
How did it come into the collection, and why is it so important?
It resulted from a Museum of Modern Art in New York travelling exhibition, curated by Jennifer Licht, titled "Some Recent American Art." This exhibition visited Melbourne, Adelaide, Sydney, Perth and Auckland. John Stringer, then Assistant Director of International Programs at MoMA, contacted the directors while organising it in New York. He initially wrote to the director at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, noting that Donald Judd, one of the exhibiting artists, wanted to create a large, site-specific concrete work. He thought the Art Gallery of New South Wales would be interested. That letter was copied to the then AGSA Director, John Baily, in Adelaide, when Sydney couldn't find a site. Baily was keen; he had been to America and seen Judd's sculpture in Philip Johnson's collection in Connecticut. He was a huge fan of Judd's large-scale work. When that opportunity arose, with support from Ian North, the then Curator of Paintings at the Art Gallery of South Australia, they moved forward. Ian was well-informed, ambitious, and had an international outlook.
Image credit: Construction of Donald Judd’s Untitled, 1974–5 at the Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide; photo: Geoff Gibbons
Did Donald Judd come to Australia or South Australia?
John Baily travelled to New York and met with Donald Judd, his wife, and his dealer, Leo Castelli, who kind of made the deal. Donald Judd was so keen to do it. Leo Castelli didn't take his cut at all to make it happen, but Donald Judd took a reduced fee. And so it was $10,000 US.
Extraordinary.
I know that was negotiated the previous year. In 1974, when the exhibition came to Adelaide, Donald Judd travelled to Adelaide and spent a couple of weeks here. He knew there was a site he could work on, thinking it would be flat. Upon arrival, he realised the back lawn of the gallery had a slope, prompting him to rethink his site idea. He worked directly on the site, creating drawings that illustrated his thoughts on how to situate the work. You can see these drawings on our website. He placed pegs into the ground to outline where he wanted the triangle to go.
Additionally, he spent significant time with one of our board members, Philip Fargher, an engineer with an engineering firm. Philip's role was pivotal; he drove Donald Judd around, showing him different kinds of concrete in the city. This helped Donald identify the concrete he wanted, enabling Philip to oversee its sourcing. Creating the piece was complicated. The drawings are incredibly distilled, simple, yet powerful technical documents. They went to the Public Works Department, which project-managed it for the gallery. However, the gallery had to source all materials in kind since there was no budget. Philip Fargher reached out to concrete, timber, and building companies until he secured in-kind support for the project. Those companies ultimately contributed to making the work.
It's so special that South Australian companies made this iconic artwork, and that the material, concrete, was from South Australia.
Very cool. Very cool. I didn't uncover this while making the film, but only later when launching it, when Donald Judd took a road trip to the Flinders Ranges while he was here. John Baily asked a young education officer, Jeff Gibbons, to drive Donald Judd to the Flinders Ranges. John Bailey had a friend who owned a large property out there near Hawker, between Hawker and Quorn. He asked Jeff Gibbons to drive him there so he could spend a night. Apparently, Donald Judd didn't say a word during the whole trip. Hours.
And that's a long trip, as we know!
Apparently, he got really animated when he arrived in Port Augusta. There’s a power station there, I think, and that architecture really excited him. He wasn't moved by the landscape as such but was inspired by the architecture. When he reached the property, he hit it off with the owner, and they had a lot to discuss. Obviously, Judd had recently acquired Marfa and was managing a large tract of land. When we interviewed Flavin Judd, he shared his excitement about what it was like when his father returned and how impressed he was by the size of the “ranches” in South Australia.
I love to think about how that might've gone on to inform what he made other works afterwards, how the Australian landscape or the scale might have had an impact that we don't really realise. Let’s talk about the location.
A lot of people were really dismayed by the size of it when it was first unveiled; they felt it was too big. I feel that the size of it nestles into the lawn, and he was very conscious of how it related to the Radford Auditorium and the colonial architecture. Christine Mehring, Professor of Art History, Visual Arts at the University of Chicago, whom we interviewed in the film and who is a Judd specialist, really links his respect for colonial architecture—evident in the way he worked on his own property in Marfa—with how he would have responded to the AGSA site. She believes that colonial architecture is really key, especially regarding those stones and their proximity to it.
Image credit: Donald Judd, born Excelsior Springs, Missouri 1928, died Manhattan, New York 1994, Untitled,1974-75, Adelaide, reinforced concrete, 126.0 x760.0 x 660.0 cm (irreg.); South Australian Government Grant in association with Marshalland Brougham Pty Ltd1974, Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide, photo: Saul Steed,© Donald Judd. ARS/Copyright Agency 2025
Many people walk past and don't recognise what they're looking at. One of the greatest artists of all time is there; I mean, what a gift to the nation. Are there other outdoor Judd works in Australia?
Definitely not. It's actually very rare. Since there aren't many pieces, there is one in Germany and a couple in America, but he worked on a project in Switzerland. But yeah, it's very rare.
What are you doing to celebrate this incredible work?
We've commissioned a 20-minute documentary film, which focuses on the Judd commission. The film is one of our major projects, and we received support from a donor at the gallery, David McKee, who is genuinely passionate about this work and eager to elevate its profile. In the lead-up to the anniversary, we discussed how unappreciated it is by our audience and regular visitors. It feels almost invisible. I considered what might be the most effective way to communicate about this work. I concluded that a film would be the best approach. I wanted the film not only to be on our website but also to communicate with our local regular visitors, national attendees, and reach international audiences because Judd's fan base is worldwide, and the magic of the work, as always, lies in experiencing it through physical presence.
It’s on display in the gallery alongside related materials. I've pulled out all the original letters of offer and all kinds of archival photos that have been built, as well as the catalogue and installation photos of “Some Recent American Art,” including the protests that were held at the time by the Progressive Art Movement.
And is that because they didn't like that it was an American artist?
Yes, it was the height of the Vietnam War. The gallery was accused of supporting American cultural imperialism. It was a well-organised protest, and the gallery was forced to confront that position. Ian North was, if you like, the defender of Judd. The gallery hosted a symposium on-site where the main protagonists in the debate shared their views. The protests included people entering the "Some Recent American Art" exhibition and replacing labels on the walls. I even heard that while they were trying to build the sculpture, people protested by lying down in front of the work.
That's right. That's what it's meant to be. Minimalism is all about that phenomenological response.
That was my brief to the director to essentially film it, allowing viewers to experience walking around it. The film is significant not only because it will be on our website, making it accessible for people to watch anywhere, but also due to its sensational and dramatic narrative surrounding the protests. Additionally, it aims to contextualise Judd's ideas. What are the ideas that inform it? This may help unlock for viewers what they are observing, why it features that intriguing bevelled edge, and what those angles contribute.
I believe it’s one of the collection gems in Australia that has been forgotten; we're so preoccupied with what's coming to the country, what's new, and what's great. We often forget that we have these incredibly significant artworks that anyone would love to possess in a collection internationally, which is very meaningful, I think. Did he ever come back to see it again?
No. No, he never did. He relied on photographs. He was very interested in it. He was very proud of it and obviously happy with the result because he included it in the catalogue raisonné. In an interview with his son, Flavin, he mentioned that he was really keen to come out and see the work. He’s the director of the Judd Foundation, so he's very involved. It was excellent to interview him because one of the things I find interesting about our work—and it's very profound for me—is that children love it. Students and children are so drawn to it during their gallery visits; they all congregate around it. They want to climb on it, they want to climb into it, they want to jump in it. It's at a height almost like table height, resembling a fort. You are not to climb on it, which is sensible, of course. It can damage the work, and kids could also get hurt. But one of the things I really feel is that this work, over 50 years, has been something people have grown up with—something they have grown old with. Maybe with these large site-specific works, they actually enter people's consciousness, even if they're not aware of it. I did ask Flavin if his dad let him climb on his sculpture at home. He did not; that was very clear.
Concrete does require a bit of care. Because it holds and absorbs materials, like acids and similar substances. How do you take care of it?
Yes, it gets cleaned and is actually surprisingly fragile. It is looked after regularly by our conservators. It's routinely cleaned and has had repairs, especially on one corner where there was quite a significant chip. When I look at the original photos that were taken when it was unveiled, it actually is holding up well. I do love those original photos. You can see that ambition for the space around it, which is lovely. And of course, you could never know that all these things are going to build up around it, the university or whatever. It's kind of amazing.
And there was also quite different landscaping back then. Quite a few trees were cut down for the construction of this work. Even at the time, many more trees were around the gallery, giving it a softer feel. Those beautiful black and white archival photos of the work were taken by Jeff Gibbons, that young education officer who drove Donald Judd to Flinders. I only just found that out as
What a beautiful story. Nowadays, it is very complicated and challenging to pull off something like that.
I agree. I made a point of saying this at the VIP launch for the film. I feel that the board was very visionary and supported their director because they were unaware of the work they were acquiring; they obtained it before it was completed, and had confidence that they could find all those companies to support them in making it happen. And they did!
WATCH THE FULL FILM HERE
