Open to Interpretation: Ionit Behar Curates a Show of Work by Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle at DPAM
Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle, Well 35°58’16”N - 106°5’21”W (Santa Clara Pueblo, NM), 2014. Pictured: Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle. Courtesy of the artist.
This interview appears in CGN's fall 2025 magazine. To receive a copy of the print edition click here.
By JEFFERSON GODARD
Ambiguity can be a place of uncertainty and frustration, but for Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle, it is where his practice thrives. Manglano-Ovalle is a Chicago-based artist who has created an art practice over the past 40 years that ultimately asks more questions than provides answers.
His achievements and accolades are numerous indeed. A 2001 John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation Award and 2009 John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation Fellow winner, Manglano-Ovalle was born in Spain, lived in Colombia, and studied at Williams College (BA in 1983), and The School of the Art Institute of Chicago (MFA in 1989). He has shown internationally at institutions including the Guggenheim New York and Bilbao, MoMA, Tate Liverpool, MCA Chicago, The Art Institute of Chicago, and Frankfurter Kunstverein, just to list a few. Iñigo currently serves as the Lorraine H. Morton Professor of Art at Northwestern University and will present new work at the DePaul Art Museum this September in a solo show titled Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle: A Want for Nothing, curated by Dr. Ionit Behar.
My first encounter with Manglano-Ovalle’s work was through an architecture publication that extolled his video artwork Le Baiser/The Kiss (1999) in which he played a window washer. Yet the window he was cleaning was not your average pane of glass. This window was part of the storied Farnsworth House (1945-1951) by architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and the kiss alludes to the sound that the squeegee makes when contacting the glass, but the piece also speaks to class and entitlement. It wasn’t until eight years later that I got a chance to experience a work of his in person, and I was gobsmacked.
Travelling to Documenta in Kassel, Germany in 2007, I walked into a darkened space where a large, hulking metal sculpture of a truck was tucked up against the back wall. In an adjacent space sat a small transistor radio sat amidst a room flooded with orange light cast from a filter over the glass. This culminated to create a sparce and looming feeling that was overwhelming, and I was hooked. Phantom Truck was the title of this full-scale recreation of a supposed bioweapons truck that former US Secretary of State Colin Powell spoke of when he addressed the UN Security Council prior to the US invasion of Iraq in 2003. Located within this dimly lit space, the viewer had to make sense of this through the ambiguity. It was both present and absent at the same time, reinforcing the foreboding history it held inside.
Recently, I had a chance to speak with DePaul Art Museum Curator Dr. Ionit Behar about the upcoming exhibition, Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle: A Want for Nothing. In our conversation, we spoke about this enthralling exhibition that questions utility, how we understand systems, and how art can move beyond representation. One question that the exhibition initially posits is “How does the work draw us in, and how do we, in turn, respond to it—right here, right now?”
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Jefferson Godard (JG): Let’s begin by unpacking the term usefulness. The press release makes mention of this term. Can you talk more about how you feel Iñigo’s art has a useful factor to it, or is this more of a way of sharing how he makes work that is so ambiguous?
Ionit Behar (IB): My initial answer references the title of the show, A Want for Nothing. This title came out of many conversations with Iñigo which very much resonated with me when he said, “what I want out of this world, or out of my practice, or even my existence in this world is to really want nothing.”
I interpret this not as a rejection of desire, but as a form of radical openness, a way of being that doesn’t cling or impose. It’s akin to holding a coin in an open palm rather than gripping it tightly. In this openness, meaning can circulate freely. Iñigo’s practice embodies that spirit, leaving room for interpretation and inviting viewers to sit with uncertainty, rather than being told exactly what to see or feel.
It also reinforces a particular way of being in the world. Iñigo’s work fosters a quiet yet profound dialogue about what it means to exist within this world, not just to move through it, but to be in relation to it. A Want for Nothing is not a denial of desire or a rejection of living. Rather, it speaks to a deeper yearning, an inquiry into what we ask of the world and what it asks of us in return. It’s a subtle but powerful shift in perspective. If we were to reconsider our relationship with the world through this lens, perhaps things could begin to change, on both personal and collective levels. This was part of our earliest conversations, and where the exhibition first began to take shape.
Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle, Well 34°01’03’’N-118°29’12’’W [detail], 2015, Stainless steel, aluminum and brass. Courtesy of the artist and Christopher Grimes Gallery
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“One of the works in the show, ‘An Attempt to Say Something that Can Actually Hold Water,’ started out to test whether or not my statements could actually hold water. Using the Coopering technique, a craft process of making buckets, I created a bottomless bucket that ultimately doesn’t hold water.”
– Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle
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JG: It is great to learn the ethos of the show and some of his philosophy. Can you walk us through A Want for Nothing?
IB: I don’t want to give too much away, but the first gallery features quieter, more intimate works Iñigo calls “discrete objects,” pieces that blur the line between function and art. It also highlights his making by hand, distilling forms to their most minimal expression. For example, there is a piece entitled, An Attempt to Say Something that Can Actually Hold Water that appears to be a simple bucket—but it has no bottom. At first, it suggests utility: a container for water, a familiar and everyday object. But by removing its base, Iñigo renders it non-functional. It still carries the memory and form of a bucket, but its purpose has been subverted. This quiet gesture unsettles our assumptions and gently redirects our attention towards what the object implies, what it lacks, and what it might mean.
The Well project will also be present, rooted in Iñigo interest in land art. His recent research in the Sonoran Desert—walking the terrain and engaging with a range of people—adds a rich, layered context to the work.
JG: Much like the Well project, ritual, interstitial space, and failure are important elements in his work. Can you comment on how this show addresses these themes?
IB: There’s something deeply ritualistic in the making of his work, laborious, repetitive, almost monk-like. This process invites contemplation and evokes a sensibility reminiscent of 1960s and 70s artists like Walter de Maria, Richard Serra and Robert Barry, or even earlier figures such as Marcel Duchamp. He actively seeks critique, much like a student, and embraces contradiction as a generative space. After all, living is full of contradictions. I appreciate that he allows this tension to surface through his objects, rather than forcing a statement that might otherwise feel contrived.
Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle, Untitled, 2023, Pine and graphite. Courtesy of the artist.
JG: Iñigo prefers the viewer to take what they want from the work and the overall exhibition. Did this inform your decision on whether or not to use wall labels?
IB: There won’t be any wall labels in the exhibition, something that differs from our usual approach at DPAM, but it’s important to honor the artist’s preferences. One of the things I appreciate most about DPAM is that we don’t follow a single model for presenting interpretive text. Instead, we consider each exhibition individually, asking what kind of textual support will best serve the work. In this case, the goal is to keep interpretation as open as possible while remaining generous to the viewer. Short texts will be available as handouts, which visitors can choose to read—or not—as they move through the galleries and engage with the works on their own terms.
JG: While a strong exhibition will fulfill visual and even psychological aspects, what do you hope your show with Iñigo will fulfill?
IB: This exhibition offers an opportunity to return to basics, and ultimately, to ourselves. I hope it encourages us to see things in a new light. That’s part of what Iñigo brings to his work: a way of provoking reflection without repetition. If there’s one message to take from this show, it’s an invitation to imagine what a different future could look like, rather than simply looking back. I also think the show seeks to remind us of our humanity, our capacity for stillness, for care, for contradiction, and for imagination. After all, living is a contradiction in itself. In a world that often feels rushed, fragmented, or transactional, the works gently call us back to an attentive way of being. They ask us not just to look, but to feel; not just to interpret, but to be present.
Being part of this process and working with him has been incredibly meaningful. I hope that sense of connection and possibility will resonate with viewers as well.
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