New Art Examiner

TODT: Strength and Stress in Numbers

by D. Dominik Lombardi

The 1980’s was a unique decade in the art world, as so many iconic artists achieved fame comparable to the level of a rock star. It was also a time when the AIDS crisis devastated millions globally, and the arts in particular, complicated by Ronald Reagan’s four-year delay in treating it as a true crisis. There were other socio-political issues at the time, including the turmoil of Ronald Reagen’s Iran-Contra Affair; and the S & L debacle of 1990 that marked the end of a turbulent ten years that produced some of the most distinctive art of the second half of the twentieth century.

        Getting back to what was happening in the New York art scene in the 80’s, it began with a renewed interest in figurative art and painting fueled by a burgeoning economy. Artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring burst onto the rapidly growing downtown art scene that featured crowded openings and long, eccentric after parties. Then there were others who pushed past the figurative into a fearlessly futurist, post-political representations and installations where something had, or was about to go horribly wrong. This was the art of TODT.

        I have with me the last surviving member of TODT who will remain anonymous, in keeping with the group’s original concept of using the collective identifier TODT to credit the production of their art.

        D. Dominick Lombardi (DDL): If I am not mistaken, the name TODT was a very early decision. You four all liked the concept of a brand, something like VHS, MTV or IBM, so how did you all come up with TODT and what was your general philosophy in what and how you created?

 

TODT, Untitled, 1984. Xerox, paint & paper, 17’x 12 inches. Courtesy of the artist(s).

        TODT: I would say that the beginning of our practice was first realized in our familial relationships. Serious play preceded the concept and formality of the world of ART–Games were where we began to collaborate and exercise an expression of freedom and imagination. Creative thinking (and arguing) was a family affair that encouraged a spirit of fidelity and cooperation. As adults, we took this practice into other expressions of invention—establishing a production of art works and philosophy that would best describe the kinship impulses towards collaborating with one another. A seamless invention that gave us the opportunity to initiate a new construction… one, undetermined by individuality, and instead, forged by an anonymous author; who could establish a strategy of associative meanings and aesthetic possibilities outside of the normative practices of art and representation.

        At first, we called ourselves, “LETHALITHIC“—a made-up nomenclature connecting itself to the phyla of natural history and the catastrophic consequences of the worlds’ modern innovations…the word was definitely a mouthful, and we wanted a more malleable expression of the contemporary and corporate landscape that was beginning to emerge. The concept of the word “todt” gave us the ability to create an anonymous alter ego that could serve as the “ghost in the machine”…a higher brain with the emergent consciousness of an unknown entity—an identity that was separate from the individuals who operated it.

        Mysterious and ambivalent, the word TODT is a penetrative acronym that displaces any tendency for singular recognition. The umbrella of a pseudonym gave us the ability to incorporate a vast variety of subjects and materials—into an art form that could be indistinguishable from the realities of our culture. TODT is a negative brand…a word that means not just dead, but very dead…annihilated…completely gone. 

        DDL: Your mention of “the contemporary and corporate landscape” makes me think of how I first saw Ashley Bickerton’s and TODT’s art as related somehow. Bickerton was more focused on consumerism at that time, plus the hardness of the materials used had me thinking there was a kinship there. I’ve mentioned to you in the past how TODT’s Womb Wars (1989-95) really bowled me over the first time I saw it—being room sized and filled with puzzling components and varied walkways that at its core was an open debate about abortion and the body. The element of the metal scaffolding and creepy science experiment looking devices was both a stark contrast and oddly related to Bikerton’s such works as the wall mounted, mixed media Tormented Self-Portrait (Susie at Arles) (1988). Am I off base and the only one that was seeing that link at that time? Were you friendly rivals?

 

Ashley Bickerton in front of White Head I (2012), acrylic, digital print and plastic laminate on wood, 93 x 80 x 7 inches. Photo courtesy of the artist.

 

        TODT: We did not know Ashley Bickerton—may he rest in peace—nor were we “rivals.” TODT was pretty self-absorbed, fanatical and somewhat oblivious to what was deemed as the ART WORLD and the Neo-Geo label. Since the late seventies we were already investigating and implementing the “surface” philosophy of technical materials, and, as far as I can recall, TODT regarded his work—specifically the work you mentioned—at that time, to be a bit derivative and polished—academic…”arty”…sculpturally and conceptually, one dimensional…very salable. Easy to access. Morally ambitious.

        TODTs work appears to be much more Gothic—operatic and theatrical…a posture, morally ambivalent…artfully seductive, but apprehensively acceptable. TODT’s work seems to hover between liking and loathing…revealing a cheerful nihilism, and a gift for exaggerating the truth.

        The only affinity, I can distinguish, is a regard for the materials. We didn’t keep up with his progress over the years, so I can only infer what had been said regarding only Tormented Self-Portrait.

 

Ashley Bickerton, Tormented Self-Portrait (Susie at Arles) (1987-88), acrylic on anodized aluminum, bronze powder and lacquer on wood, rubber, plastic, formica, leather, chrome-plated steel, and canvas, 7′ 5 3/8 x 68 3/4 x 15 3/4 inches. Photo courtesy of the artist.

        DDL: I see your point. I was thinking of Lee Bontecou and Eva Hesse and the industrial references in their art in the 1960’s, even though their art was completely different. Getting back to the trajectory of TODT’s notoriety: there were exhibitions and representation with PPOW I believe, the Whitney Biennial and Art on the Beach that, if I remember correctly, was the pair of missiles pointing at downtown NYC. TODT was something of a sensation. Then by 1990 you all are moving to Cincinnati.

        Can you tell me a bit about what was going on in the second half of the 1980s and reasons for the move to Ohio?

        TODT: After PPOW, TODT was represented by KENT GALLERY—which, we considered a productive alliance—for a little over a year—after that, any future negotiation to renew a contract was mutually terminated—we got bored by the professional constraints a Madison Avenue gallery offered, and KENT got discouraged by our unprofessional attitude and neediness (for lack of a better way to describe the relationship). Fabricating and exhibiting were what fueled our exuberance—once we felt an impediment to what we wanted and needed (in order for us to be creative), we sought to find a better, procurable situation. In the early 90s New York was beginning to embrace its newfound capital and conquest. Developers had moved us out of every space we had occupied through the 80’—from Green St. in Soho to our last loft in Williamsburg (which is now an Apple Store) – as well as the parched atmosphere of materials and access, and no one in the —world saddened to see us go—we turned our eyes to the heartland, where we were included in a group show, MACHANIKA at the Contemporary Art Center,which led to an opportunity that offered an 11,000 square foot raw loft, with a year, rent free, including electric, and representation by the Carl Solway Gallery. So, with that in four minds, we packed-up three 20-foot trucks and left living in NYC.

 

TODT, (Left) Mam, 1996. Mixed media, 54 × 43 × 43 inches. (Right) Barrel Lift I, 1992. Mixed media, 46 × 42 × 37 inches. Photos courtesy of Fleisher/Ollman, Philadelphia.

 

        DDL: That time in Manhattan, in the beginning of the 1990s, was a transition period for sure. SoHo galleries regained some of the edgy status they had in the 1970s as they reinvented themselves, moving east to above street level spaces on Broadway and beyond. This was right after the East Village had pretty much died out by the end of the 80s as the old neighborhood feel was challenged by overpriced, aggressive gentrification. This was a few years before the beginning of Chelsea as the epicenter of the NYC art scene that started slowly around 1995. You also had Williamsburg, Brooklyn drawing attention and gentrifying prompted by a growing cultural scene, so I can imagine if one didn’t own their studio and living space they were getting hit pretty hard by rent increases. Moving to Cincinnati was bold, despite the huge affordable studio, the show at the Contemporary Arts Center and the connection to the Carl Solway Gallery. Then again, TODT’s art always had that universal connection to the weirdness of the consumer, industrial, “American Way” that it would resound anywhere. How long was that move, and in hindsight did it make sense? Did it bring in new issues regarding collaboration?

 

TODT, Womb Wars (1991). Installation view of Mechanika, exhibition at Contemporary Arts Center, Cincinnati, OH. (Detail of the entrance).

        TODT: Yes, the end of the 80’s typified the 20th century’s fin de-siècle moment, and Reagan’s “renaissance of confidence” was beginning to expand its boundaries and its dribble down effects. The Soviet Union collapsed, and the global conquest of Capital had begun. ART became an enterprising token of exchange and privileged opulence. The disruptive beginnings of an organic Punk movement yield themselves to the machinations of a major Industry—art becomes a speculative product, and a vibrant part of the new leisure class. To us, art was a condition…not a career, and in order to satisfy that affliction, we decided to move to the Midwest. We had recently showed WOMB WARS at Wright Patterson University, OH where a crew member recommended we check out a place called Mendelson’s Liquidation Outlet in nearby Dayton—it was stock full of everything from stainless steel prison toilets (which we purchased) to baseball stadium scoreboards—80,000 sq ft. of industrial detritus that included machine parts and electronics, medical equipment, fresnel lenses, various rubber components—all the materials that were inspiring us at the time. The Rust Belt was rusty, so we went out there for the magnificent plunder. And once we decided to experiment with this new prospect—which included our kids—we committed ourselves to the task of living communally, and proceeded to rehab and design three different private living spaces—and an expansive workspace that we filled with stock. We shared one kitchen, one bathroom and one bank account. With the generous support from the Solways and the landlord, we were able to thrive and produce a significant amount of work, accompanied by a valuable number of exhibitions. Those actions kept us inspired, cooperative and artistically engaged.

 

TODT, Womb Wars (1991), Installation view of Mechanika, exhibition at Contemporary Arts Center, Cincinnati, OH.

 

        DDL: Mendelson’s Liquidation Outlet sounds amazing. I see online that it closed after 55 years in 2020. What a resource it must have been. Getting back to the timeline, I know TODT as a collective hit a rough patch at one point. Can you tell me a little about that?

        TODT: Out of respect for all of those who are not here to contribute their own answers to that question, I need to be sensitive and fair to what was an extremely painful time for us. After a few years, living together became untenable. We had families, which naturally demanded a different relationship regarding privacy and productivity—the mutual familiarities that stress any relationship were sadly pronounced and effectively hurting our creative and personal relationships. We eventually found separate housing and moved TODT to the STERLING ICE CREAM which provided storage, living and a great workspace. But really, the big rupture to our union occurred in 1999—an adversarial collision of minds came to a head—a severe fracture that could not be mended. And the unfortunate consequence of that dissolution revealed a bitter and contentious allied entrenchment that took years to unravel—a painful wedge, impossible to dislodge, diminished morale—the mutual resentments lingered and festered, for some time, at different times. Lives were changing and becoming more complex—and, being family, created different responsibilities and commitments. Eventually, having no other choice we worked to resuscitate and revive and protect our body of works—eventually, and gingerly we adjusted to the contraction, and to a renewed effort to engage from our different locations and mindfully continue to merge our individual works into the evolving sculptural concept of TODT.

 

TODT (Left) Phalanx, 1997. Mixed media, 36 × 32 × 13 inches. (Right) Nippers, 1995. Mixed media, 67 × 45 × 36 inches. Photos courtesy of Fleisher/Ollman, Philadelphia.

 

        DDL: That resolution of working separately and being able to combine individual works is amazing, given the circumstances. You would remain of one body as TODT but can now have the weight of whatever was hindering the creativity of separate minds in changing lives largely erased. I know TODT is still producing drawings and products, as you so brilliantly call your sculptures and installations, with the one surviving member. That must feel like a heavy burden on one hand, but weightless in the creative sense. I would love to see a survey of TODT’s drawings, products and installations. In fact, I would say why has it not happened?

       In closing, can you tell me a little about what TODT is producing now and are there plans for a TODT retrospective?

 

TODT, Untitled (2010), collage, graphite on paper, 38 x 24 inches. (Detail).

        TODT: The last few years have been, primarily, devoted to organizing and creating an archive. The deaths of two partners in a span of a few years were more of a loss than I could ever convey. I still suffer from a kind of phantom limb pain—but, the contraction of spirits has only increased the inventory of spirited works. The profusion of sculpture, parts and paintings, are now corralled and tagged under one roof, in a crammed building that we purchased in Lockland, 20 minutes north of Cincinnati—obtaining a building was a crucial remedy for all of our exhaustive storage moves—and the obvious considerations of aging, children, and legacy were becoming more evident. The building had a stabilizing effect, knowing works are safe and dry—but, there is little room left to produce or display work. And so, with that in mind, Solway Gallery has offered TODT a new residency for storage and exhibition, hopefully, sometime in the Fall.

       In between time, more works have been generated, with only the impulse to continue with what was started… although with a different focus to show what’s hardly been seen.

And, in no way, am I able to explain or clarify our absence from today’s cultural conversation—the new and old works of TODT being as precedent today as they were in the past.

        I believe there are powers in the arts that inhibit and restrain the arts—the soft censorship of hard subjects—a censorship aligned to sponsored ideologies and economic gain—both, of which, have put TODT in a prolonged and profound absence from the ART WORLD. A retrospective is one possibility for the retelling of TODT’s tall tale…a daunting task that could only be realized by the courageous! I can’t thank you enough for asking and suggesting the possibility to share the gifts of our labor and lives, and for the occasion to say so…TODT appreciates the opportunity to reflect and relay these past decades of our artistic and vital passions—and to claim for the future, an active presence in art history.

D. Dominick Lombardi is an artist, art writer and curator. An upcoming solo exhibition will be held from August 11–September 10 at the WhiteBox Portable gallery located in the MTA’s Time Square Subway Station in New York City. Writing credits include The Brooklyn Rail (2023), ARTnews (1997), New York Times (1998-2005), Art in Asia, Seoul (2007-2009,) and Sculpture (1999-2007). Recent curatorial projects are “Multiverse” (2025), Hampden Gallery, UMASS Amherst and “You Think That’s Funny?”, Hammond Museum (2025).

 

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