July 30, 2014
The second writing assignment for the Praxis Enrichment workshop was given on the third and final day of the workshop. Again we were given the assignment to write a half of page, this time with the question "What is it about your work that is important to you?". This time we did have longer, up to 3 hours to write, included in this time was time for breaks and meetings. The one condition which was placed on us was to not begin writing anything down, making any lists about what we were going to write, for at least 15 minutes prior to beginning the actual writing. We were to spend those 15 minutes just thinking about the question being asked. When we re-grouped after the 3 hours we spent the remainder of the workshop reading out loud our writing and then discussing what we wrote with the group. This was a very enlightening assignment due to the variety of approaches which were taken and the discussions which were produced.
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The only thing in life that is purely my own is that which is in my head. Whatever goes into my head is to some degree altered and it becomes a part of my mind. When I begin to work I wander into my mind. Once inside I can pick through the bits and pieces laying around, taking up space; grasp hold of them, turn them around, look at them from different angles, discover the relationships they have to each other, or question why something seems out of place in this space. When I have been unable to work for any reason for any period of time I have found that this space begins to fill up and bog me down. The stuff which has accumulated in the space is crammed into every niche, every nook and cranny, and chaos ensues. My mind becomes like a full garbage bin that needs to be emptied, it stinks.
It is easy to take out the garbage, even if you don’t like doing it, you just do it because you must. Once the work begins, the bin is emptied, order is restored, and the world begins to smell better. And then the space begins to fill up with more garbage, until it is time to take it out again. I like things clean and orderly, and I am sensitive to smells, so I take out the garbage as often as I can. But sometimes cleanliness and orderliness can become compulsive, an illness of taking out garbage that might not even be there, what then? You treat it. You can’t take out garbage that isn’t there; sometimes you just need to wait until there is enough garbage in the bin to make the trip to the collection point worthwhile.
My work allows me to clear out my mind. It allows me to share what has accumulated in the garbage bin with the rest of the world. But when I throw out the garbage I am not just taking it to the dump. In my work I am separating the garbage into different bins, sending it on to where it will be most useful. Of all the garbage the most effective is that which will be composted, it will provide the nutrients to create more stuff which will eventually take its place inside my head.
July 30, 2014
The following text is from the writing assignment given the first day in the Praxis Enrichment workshop. We were given 45 minutes to write approximately half a page on an art work we feel passionate about. I expanded it slightly to cover a particular artist's work of a particular period which at that moment came to me as very influential and poignant to this period in my own work because I cannot really pinpoint a single artwork that I feel significantly passionate about at this moment in time.
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Most of us, but maybe not all of us, sitting here today have at least one thing in common that I would like you to think about, and that is the way you were raised, formed, and educated by a set of ideas and structures of how things should be according to the expectations of the group from which you have originated. As artists we like to think that each time we create a new work of art we are throwing off the constraints of that group, breaking through the structure and creating something new. This notion, this image, of ourselves breaking those boundaries is what we think makes us artists. But do all artists always break boundaries with their art?!
Sometimes an artist finds success creating art in a certain way, and because of this success the artist continues making the same art, year after year, and might even continue to have success doing so that until the day he or she breathes his or her last breath. But what about the artist who found success, who could have continued making the same art year after year and living a comfortable life while doing so, and yet, decides to throw off the yoke connecting him or her to that tradition, that way of creating, and break threw those boundaries to truly make something new? Sometimes this is a self imposed death sentence, other times it is a form of rebirth. And in the history of art I believe one artist who was re-born by doing just this, breaking through the canvas of tradition, tearing into the space beyond the picture plane, in order to go beyond those borders and freely develop a new way of looking at what art can be.!
This artist was Lucio Fontana. Trained as an architectural engineer, the son of a successful, sculpture, he first followed in his father’s footsteps, and did that for about 20 years. But he was looking at what was happening around him, he was being influenced by the modern art movements happening in Europe during the 1920s and 1930s. But he was not necessarily making border crossing artworks. He did automatic drawings influenced by the surrealists, he did expressionistic ceramic sculpture. But he did not produce anything in that period which would make him more than a footnote in the history of art.!
Then the world changed. Year one- 1946, Fontana, now under the influence of the Futurists, who themselves faced with the horrors of a world war took a nihilistic approach and burned themselves out, also saw that the world structure that had been had sped past us. But unlike the nihilism of the Futurists, Fontana took a positive approach to the situation. He issued his Manifesto bianco (White Manifest). The world was now a blank page. Old, artificial, orders and borders no longer existed. Now we could freely develop without constraints of tradition. We could synthesize forms to create new forms of art. Fontana bored into the solid colored canvases he painted, he embedded glass and stones, the sliced through the picture plane, he widen our concept of space, light, surfaces and the environments we exist in. And he did this not from the beginning of his career, he did this after he had long established his career. He did not let that stop him from seeing the need for breaking through the boundaries to get to the next space.
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After writing we were told to exchange the writing with another member of the group, read it and respond to it. The final three paragraphs of this post is the response of my fellow Transart Institute student, Paolo Piscitelli.
I really enjoyed your text, the choice of the artist, overall in its transition from traditional sculpture to the Manifesto bianco, the concetti spazaili, the nature...!
Through your text I understand that you are open to a transformation in your work, that maybe you want to try new mediums or that you hope to have fresh eyes in order to see and define art from a different point of view. !
I really love Lucio Fontana and knowing that your work walk also on his shoulder make me feel really curious to see what is your plan for next year.
June 30, 2014
In this text Barthes addresses the change he saw taking place in how we look at language, specifically how we look at written language, at literature. This change he saw as the result of an openness created by various academic disciplines, schools of thought, as they encountered and addressed objects[subjects] outside the traditional boundaries of their disciplines. It is a change that is the result of the breaking down of these old boundaries, their violent destruction by the Interdisciplinary approach to what lay beyond those boundaries. Barthes identifies this as a ‘mutation’, it is not necessarily the complete destruction of the old in favor of the invention of the new, rather it is more of an “epistemological slide”, a shift in how we know what we know, as opposed to a complete break from the knowledge we know. Barthes traces this shift back to the end of the 19th century with the theories developed by Marx and Freud. Although that period was nearly 100 years prior to Barthes writing this essay he stated that he saw no other further break from that point and that since then “we have been living in repetition”. Is this still the case 40+ years on? He states, what we have been doing is analogous to Einstein’s relativism, we approach everything with a relative frame of reference, which in literature means the relationship between “writer, reader and observer (critic)” is approached in this manner. As a result of this slide, Barthes identified the need for a new object, the “Text”.
Barthes proceeds to clarify “Text” through a series of proposals to what it is by stating what it is not, “Work” .
1. The Text cannot be differentiated from the Work via its age, its substance, its material existence. The Work is a fully developed, stationary, whereas the Text is a process, it is open-ended, still in development, it is moving. “...the Text is experienced only in an activity of production”. The Text can encompass the Work (or several) according to Barthes. Does this mean the Work cannot encompass the Text?
2. The Text supercedes genre. It does not easily mold to classification or hierarchies. The Text pushes the boundaries of the old system, yet remains just inside. “...the Text is always paradoxical”. Does this make the Work unquestionable, or simply question-less? Does the Text question that which is known while accepting it as known?
3. The Work is a general sign. Its meaning is clear. The Text pushes away from the signified, leaving its meaning open. It puts off answering the question: what does this mean/stand for/represent? This un-endless questioning, refusal to answer is an eternal process. The symbolism of the Work has a clear center and a determined end, at a certain point it closes. The Text is ongoing in its conception, perception and reception, it has no clear center or determined end; it remains open.
4. As part of the open significance of the Text, it achieves a plurality of meaning. This is a unique combination of signs, always different, yet in this uniqueness always the same, always untraceable in origin.
5. The Work is always defined by, possessed by (legal per copyright) and respected because of that or whom it is descended, its author. The Work is an object that has been developed from a single source, making the Work indivisible. Whereas the Text is developed via a network of many sources, thus it can be broken into many pieces; no respect to a single source is necessary; the presence of the author is not that of a possessor, but that of a visitor a part of the Text, an object within, and not the subject of the Text existing outside of it.
6. The Work is meant to be passively consumed by the reader. The Text is interactive, the reader becomes a part of the Text, its creation through the active participation of the reader. Barthes says the distance between reader and writer is lessened, if not eliminated by the Text. The reader becomes a collaborator with the Text, raising the question who is the Text’s author? This further negates the concept of filiation in relation to Text. And the role of the observer (critic)? Is it just the critic who today is the producer of the work as Barthes states?
7. Pleasure. There is pleasure in consumption of the Work. We consume and re-consume that which we know we can never be a part of, never reproduce. And the pleasure in the Text? This separation from the Work which is present in the pleasure of consumption is not present in the pleasure experienced with the Text. That pleasure is generated by the lack of separation from the Text, the knowledge that it is not closed to us, that we can take part in and become a part of the Text.
Barthes does not lay personal claim to the development of the concept of the Text, stating that he is simply picking up and presenting that which he sees around him; it remains open to further development, questions remain which can only be addressed through further writing. Thus this is a Text.
I read this text after reading Wisdom of Art, and it struck me as very similar in terminology. If I were to remove these concepts from the written, literary arts and place them into the context of the visual arts I would define the Work relative to the concept of “illustration” and the Text to that of “art”.
June 30, 2014
Barthes begins by questioning what is happening in a painting and connecting this question how we perceive works of art. What is key is that through experiencing the work of art- identified by Barthes as an ‘event’- we are changed. Barthes proceeds to explain this process of change via the example of Twombly’s paintings and their Western and Eastern cultural origins.
First Barthes defines the experience as an ‘event’, and the work of art as ‘the stage’ upon which the ‘event’ occurs. The event itself is created numerous, simultaneous happenings. Barthes gives the Ancient Greek’s definitions of these happenings as fact (pragma), coincidence (tyche), outcome or result (telos), surprise (apodeston) and finally, action (drama).
The stage must first be built, this is the ‘fact’: the materia prima. Without it there is no event. Barthes identifies this as the paradox of meaning: nothing exists without meaning, but a work of art does not gain meaning until it exists. And yet as a work gains meaning it begins to lose its existence as a work of art. [Not sure what he means in the context, unless it is a loss of the notion of ‘purity’.]
In order to keep its existence as a work of art as it gains meaning, the material out of which the stage is built remains just that: the matter, having no meaning beyond what it is. The artist’s manipulation of the materials is where meaning begins to develop. Barthes identifies Twombly’s handling of the materials not as an aggressive, forceful manipulation, but rather a passive, flowing manipulation. A “lightness” of which shows the materials essence.
What else makes a Twombly a Twombly. Barthes asks. It is his habits as opposed to devices: how things/material is combined, arranged, distributed. “Words belong to everybody; but sentences belong to writers.”---how the materials are combined are personal, unique, inimitable. This is a part of every stage. Twombly’s gestures [his mark making], repetitive scratching; smudging; maculas covering layers; smearing and erasing, but not eliminating what has come before; these gestures establish the matter as ‘fact’ according to Barthes via contamination, making dirty, unclean. Use provides us with information by which we can define an object. Without use we lack information. We define what is by saying what it is not.
Twombly employs a pictorial element--the written word-- in his canvases. Foremost this is a Name. TheName can be written into the canvas or assigned to the canvas as its identity--title. Sometimes the Nameis a gesture- a dedication. Through the dedication the canvas disappears, the act of giving remains. The dedication establishes a boundary: its existence is within this gesture of giving. The painting no longer exists beyond this boundary. Question: Here is where fact ends?
Next is chance, coincidence, tyche. Barthes states this occurrence is always on Twombly’s stage. It is irrelevant if the chance is chance (uncalculated, unplanned), or if it is “chance effect” (precisely calculated);it is in the force of inspiration, the happiness, always present in Twombly’s canvases. The Movements behind this chance Barthes identifies as jete, the impression something has been thrown which implies a decision has been made without knowledge of what the result of the action will bring. The space between these thrown actions creates room to breathe. This room is not empty, but filled with the energy. The space around the jete [is] is the is not.
This space, Barthes defines as the Rare [from Latin Rarus- that which has gaps]. The rectangle of the canvas, the stage, Twombly fills with Rare, an analogy to the Japanese Ma [interval]. This space/Rarus/Ma is the Eastern void and the Western Mediterranean house in Twombly’s canvases: “A great void locked in- where time doesn’t come. The mind wants to populate all this.”
“Abstract” painting: false terminology. Meaning is equivalent to non-meaning. By trying to avoid one the other is created. Barthes states, it is never wrong to ask what a painting represents because even in non-meaning, meaning is there, but it does not equal universality. Meaning inhibits universality through the cultural differences, the furniture we bring into the rooms of the house. Question: Does this mean when people read meaning into a piece as a result of their own cultural perceptions that meaning isn’t there? If the space is provided to be furnished, the furniture brought into the room is there, is it not?
Twombly gives direction to the meaning through the titles by referencing classical works of arts, literature, which in turn condition us to look for that art, that story, that analogy in the painting. But the directions might not always be clear to the viewer. What then?
We find ambiguity. Even if we do not gain access via the title, its existence puts something in our mind, that “something” is there.
Telos- end meaning. From the title if the path we takes leads us nowhere, we then are forced to return to the title/beginning and follow another path. Because the first path led us nowhere does not negate its existence. It remains, a ghost, gaining meaning through its existence of not leading us to the meaning. Thetelos of Twombly’s paintings is the general effect. It is a paradox: a unity of impressions from a complexity of causes and elements.
Barthes describes visually the relationship Twombly’s work has to the French Symbolists and Classical Antiquity as a triangle of poets-painters-ancients. I ask is this an equilateral triangle, and if so is the point of the ancients at the top, or is it inverted, and at the bottom? A second visual analogy he uses is a chain stretching from the Greek Gods to the modern artists. Has this chain been broken by the postmodernists, or has the link been broken?
Returning to the ‘effect’ [telos], Barthes states the Name Twombly gives the canvas underscores the effect by invoking memories and sensations in the viewer. The materials, which have no meaning beyond what they impose upon this effect. Barthes seems to be stating that this is effect is not a ‘frozen’ element inherited or taken from the classical antiquity. There is not a staid existence to Twombly’s paintings due to the occurrence of apodeston: the event of surprise which breaks the solemnity of the classical. Barthes likens apodeston to the Zen concept of satori: an experience not sought through a rational method. It is the jolt which enlivens the meaning. It is not serious, can lack respect, be unsettled, nonsensical. I would refer to this as invoking a sense of “play”. In Twombly’s paintings this is achieved according to Barthes most importantly via the display of clumsiness of hand. This clumsiness is not imitable, it is awkward, unexpected, a contradiction, it is unlike the worked and worried, determined clumsiness of a child’s hand, it is the light, unworked clumsiness of from the hand of a skilled painter. It is a clumsiness which destroys the decorative forms of antiquity. It is repulsive, contradicting but not destroying the notion of ‘beauty’. It is a jolt, but not a violent act by Twombly. A jolt is subversive, violence is not. It is an Eastern element within the Western structure of Twombly’s work.
Finally drama- what is being done, what is being performed on the stage. In classical painting drama is the subject, it is singulair. In Twombly’s paintings the subject is a multiple, it is the concept, and the concept is the classical text [Name/title] itself. Barthes identifies a similarity between the ambiguity of subject/object in French literature and in Twombly’s paintings. Twombly, the object, the producer of the paintings is by his existence in this role also the subject of the paintings. The viewer is also pulled into the role of subject, and as every viewer brings his or her own furniture to furnish the rooms of the house, so too are the varied meanings brought by these subjects to the canvas. [I found Barthes take on what aesthetics is to be very on point: it is not about the work really, it is what the spectator makes of the work in the conversation he is having with himself.] Another occupier of this role is culture, that which we know, but cannot always express. Subject is also memory, that which is invoked. And finally, Twombly’s canvases production is subject Or rather, the desire to reproduce that which we see, to make the gesture made by the artist, and yet, discovering that we cannot do this; only the artist can produce. [A negation of subject?]
In the end Barthes comes back to Rarus as the key to understanding Twombly’s art. It is in the gaps, in the negative void where meaning is found. I would add as a third visualization relating to Twombly’s work, to the triangle and the chain, I add a ring. The ring itself is the western classical tradition which surrounds an is the exterior of Twombly’s paintings. The inner space, the void at the center, is their Eastern core.
June 30, 2014
The responses here are to shorter readings and I have tried to respond to the readings in manners relevant to the form in which they were written.
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Why not?
The right time is always write.
Write, right?
Write.
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Fioretos 1999
The written image can transcend space and time. How can and do we transcend space and time with the visual image?
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Barthes 1975
Fluidity.
Written texts need not be aggressive, out of the text unexpected swells can form. Like a riptide, if we don’t fight it, but swim with it, it will carry us back to where we want to go. Surrender.
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Pollan 1991
Garden as metaphor for a work of art. The parameters of the garden are the edges of what we want to create. We care for what is within these boundaries, ignoring what is beyond. Art needs to be worked, again, and again; cultivated like the soil around the plants so that they get the nutrients they need to grow. Weeding is editing. Excess and invasive plants pull the nutrients from what we are cultivating. But weeding is not easy, some weeds do have purpose, beauty, meaning that only the artist can see. These weeds need to be left; identifying what to leave, what to cultivate, what to add, what to take away is a matter of listening to the art and responding to it. There is no single purpose or meaning; a duality exists in some things figurative and concrete meanings.
I find this metaphor for painting very true; but I think it applies to all things which are created, taken from the natural to the cultured state. Concrete meanings reflect the natural existence, figurative meanings are in the realm of the cultural existence.
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Berger 1982
Human versus machine. The pace of art is not interrupted, but bumpy and uneven. It invites pauses, slowing and quickening of pace just like the gait of a human or animal.
“Every step is a stride over something not said.”
Can something else fit into the space between? Is the pause “empty”? Or is its like Cage’s 4’33”, a loud silence; a moving pause.
The space between exists for the person who is experiencing the art to occupy, become part of the art.
In performance [reading, acting, singing, playing an instrument, dancing] it is the pause which brings life to the work.
In visual art it is the space between images, figures, objects, which gives life to the art.
What is left unsaid is just as important as that which is spoken.
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Nafisi 2003
Breathe. Understanding a work of art happens by becoming part of the work of art. Becoming part of the breath of art, joining what gives the piece life. Don’t just try to ‘understand’ it, become [a part of] it [naturally]- then you will understand it.
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Wenders 1970
The origins of creation are a sensual experience. The moment is unplanned, it just happens. The moment of origination is an isolated moment, filled with meaning that makes it complete, makes it whole. One does not need to experience the whole in order to experience the moment.
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Solnit 2006
Walter Benjamin- difference between ‘getting lost’ as an involuntary, ignorant state and ‘losing oneself’ a voluntary, conscious surrender. The ‘unknown’ can only be found/known by voluntarily surrendering oneself to the search.
This search for the ‘unknown’ begins by breaking formation, stepping outside the safe structures in which we live and operate. These structures represent what we already know. The unknown is what lies beyond. In order to make the unknown known we must got to it, lose ourselves to it.
What prevents us from losing ourselves, going beyond our safe structures in search of the unknown?
“I worry now that many people never…, never go beyond what they know.” Childhood today is like “house arrest”. Children are allowed no room to explore the world, lose themselves to the exploration because the parents fear of losing them.
Have we done this to children as a reaction to the excessive media reports of the dangers lurking in the shadows waiting to take our children from us? I have thought of this often in recent years, especially as my kids have reached an age where they have much less independence than I was granted when I was their age. One conclusion I have drawn takes me back to my own childhood in the late 1970s and early 1980s. I remember the evening news and local newspaper coverage of the ‘Atlanta Child Murders’, disappearance of Adam Walsh, rise is crime associated with the crack epidemic that was “running rampant”, destroying our cities. The hysteria which was generated by the media coverage was felt by us children through the reaction of fear our parents had to these stories. We were still allowed freedom to explore, the structures that would prevent the current generation, our children, from exploring were not yet in place; but the exploration was already reduced from that allowed the preceding generations. I remember a statement my grandmother made to me one day as the TV news blared in the background: None of this is new; they act as if it is, but it isn’t. Drugs, prostitution, abuse, murder, disappearances of children, it has all been there as long as we have existed. How we respond to it changes, not its presence in the world.
We have responded by shutting ourselves off to the world; keeping our children from it. We deny them the possibility of discovering the ‘unknown’ because we have such a strong fear of what we know. We try to keep them in ‘safe places’; yet the world breaks through into these places with abuse, destruction and murder, making us confront our skewed view of the ‘known’ and causing us to retreat further into our structures, our boundaries.
Perhaps the way to change is not by screeching further into the know, but to step beyond and lose ourselves to the unknown. Allow our children once more the freedom to explore the beyond, so that they can find and make known to us what we fear and do not know?
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Kapuściński 1992
“What have we given to the world?....We have given the world this miraculous, unique uselessness.”
Uselessness is that which goes beyond a mere practical purpose. Art is useless. Yes, a picture can depict a place, but how that place is depicted, how we respond it, how it might “enliven” a space in which it is hung- practically useless.
Uselessness has not made life easier. But the “adornment” of the world with uselessness is what makes it more bearable.
The painting of a place reminds us of a moment in time, a feeling we have for that place. This meaning carries over into the space in which the painting is displayed. This memory, this useless meaning is what is necessary to make us feel whole; to feel our role in the world is greater than the mundane, the useful, the practical.
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Burr 2006
Our senses exist beyond our control. We can actively engage them, for example when we bend down to smell a rose, but often they actively engage us. When we dream, have seizures, we see, hear, smell, taste, feel what is not there, might have been there once, or never been there at all. These experiences are passing, we cannot control them. All we can do is give ourselves to them, allowing them to carry us where they may until they have passed.
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Schjeldahl 1994
Twombly offers sensuality full of nourishing questions, not tasty, empty-calorie answers.
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Glasser 1986
We often sense [feel] beyond what we know. It is up to us to let go [lose ourselves] to the sense. “Accept” it, with care make it our own. Surrender to the uselessness, to that beyond our control; fight that which is known with the possibility of the unknown- the question.
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Berger 1984
Eternal and ephemeral.
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Elkin 2013
Apricots? What do apricots have to do with it?
Moment of crisis, overwhelmed by reality and the knowledge inhibiting our ability to question. Personal inspirations to seek the freedom to question, to get lost, to lose oneself.
Contradictions are a part of life.
In getting lost, we find. We can be physically present and mentally faraway. What is called ugly can be beautiful.
Beautiful is more than adornment, more than decoration. Decoration does not have to be defined negatively; it is not a lie, just another form of the truth.
Truth is revealed by beauty as much as it is revealed by ugliness. Beauty when it reveals truth is at the center, the core. Access to the truth does not have to be dour, serious, ugly. Truth can be reached through beauty, through play.
Getting to the core, to the truth is hard work. But it is made worthwhile in the moments of revelation. To the seeker of truths these moments of revelation are a personal experience bringing pleasure to the seeker.
“Of all lies, art is the least untrue”- Gustave Flaubert
It doesn’t matter to me what apricots have to do with it, only that they mattered to the author.
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Weiss 1998
The Baroque is the quality of ‘humanity’ which brings life into the structure of Neoclassicism. The Baroque is the unstructured, natural form and flow of humanness. The structures applied to Neoclassicism are made human via the viewpoint of the spectator, determined by the individuals perception, thus creating depth leading to greater understanding.
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July 3, 2014
The point of this talk at a design conference was to present the work of a person, movement or technology which has been overlooked, yet addresses two themes the presenter finds define the future of design and architecture. Mr. Fry chose to present the drawings of Mark Lombardi, who, while not overlooked, had only recently begun to be discussed, and whose work he believes addresses the following two themes which are important to future design:
1. we need to maintain a humanist view of data, relying on our own abilities and not on the abilities of a machine to tell the stories associated with the data
2. improve the discussion we have around data by ignoring our fascination with the minutiae, the details that make the data complicated, to edit the data in order to understand the complexities it reveals.
Mr. Fry’s work focuses on the visualization of complex data sets; and he states, the information that we are encountering is growing faster than our ability to work with it and understand it, and this will remain an issue in design for years. For him, Mr. Lombardi’s drawings reveal the possibilities and depth by which we can visually deal with these large amounts of data.
As I began to read this article the phrase ‘diagraming for understanding’ popped into my head. I remember first learning to research and write paper; taking notes on index cards, then laying them out on the floor to make the connections necessary to relay the information in the manner in which I wanted to tell it. Once the cards were ‘diagrammed’ on the floor they could be placed in the order necessary to write the ‘story’.
Mr. Frey points out the chance by which Mr. Lombardi’s drawings began. He did not intend to make art out of the notes he was taking, the stories and relationships he was researching, the diagrams he was drawing. He had stated what he was doing was for his own enjoyment, relaxation, following his interests to clear his mind before addressing the paintings he was creating in his studio. Then he had his “aha moment” when he realized the drawings were more visually interesting than the paintings.
How often do we become so focused on what we think we should be doing that we do not leave space for the chance encounters which take us where we should be going?
Mr. Lombardi’s process for creating the large drawings, “narrative structures”, once he gave himself over to the moment of chance was quite clear and orderly, unlike the data he was working with. He identified his goal as the exploration of the interaction between political, social and economical forces in contemporary affairs. This is what interested him. Through imagery he was revealing and making accessible the complexity of these relationships. All the information [facts, truth] he used was in the public domain, accessible to all, but not necessarily comprehensible to many. By reviewing, sorting out, condensing the notes and statements he gathered he began to see an image emerge, creating a “unified, coherent whole”.
The language Mr. Lombardi used was very simple: parallel lines, arrows, broken lines, black and red color-coding of layers of information. Very reduced. The flow of information sometimes was depicted in the manner of a ‘timeline’ showing the progression, development of relationships, and sometimes other forms emerged.
In order to reveal systems is it necessary to create a system which has as its purpose to reveal? As artists, how do we create the visual language we need to tell the stories we want to tell? How do the languages we create reflect the nature of the stories we tell? Is it necessary to simplify our language to reveal the complexity of the structure?
The idea that Mr. Lombardi was dealing with the notion of conspiracy is addressed. He and those that knew him said this was not his thoughts on what he was doing [but like Mike Kelley he played along with the “art talkers”]. Mr. Frey places the notion of diagraming conspiracies as relevant to the time in which the drawings were made and society’s overall fascination with conspiracy theories in the late 20th- early 21st centuries.
Haven’t humans ALWAYS been hung up on conspiracy? Even the ones not suffering from paranoia. And is the increase in information/data via media, computers and social networks just a part of the increase in this fascination with conspiracy?
Perhaps this is another reason it is important for us to find ways to deal with large sets of data; in order to not get tangled up in falsehoods, or distracted and overwhelmed by masses of information which keep us from addressing the issue at the core. Mr. Frey’s examples of the visualization of large amounts of data via a computer show how we can be distracted by the ‘pretty pictures’. But the beauty in this case is not enriching us, it is not revealing the complexity, just how complicated things are. Less data filtered through a computer does not necessarily reveal more insight either. The human ability to separate, to synthesize [“to place together”] information is what is needed in order to understand information. This is difficult according to Mr. Frey, but it is “what separates us from Google”.
This reminds me of the discussion on the value of the artist in the computer age. If we can create an algorithm which can create a picture that has all the components necessary to make it aesthetically pleasing, why do we need a painter? If a camera can take a picture, why do we need a painter? Didn’t Walter Benjamin resolve this for us 78 years ago? Obviously not because we still feel the need to talk about it. I do think Mr. Frey is on point with the idea in design, and all creative practice, the machine cannot replace the human. But can we move on to another discussion? Maybe not. Maybe it is just like our attraction to conspiracy. It is a part of our nature as humans to think about this. Did the first human who picked up a stone and used it to break open the covering of a grain instead of passing it off to his partner to pull it from its covering, making it accessible and edible make that person feel replaced by a tool? Probably. So I guess will go on having this discussion, adding to it as the information piles up.
July 3, 2014
This feature article appeared in a major newspaper which is known for its business/commerce focus. Although it appeared around the opening of the major retrospective exhibition of the artist Mike Kelley’s career at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam in late Winter 2013, I would not say that the article is necessarily about that exhibition, nor would I say it is really about the art. It is about the artist, or more precisely, about the artist’s suicide.
In this article Ms. Crow rehashes the life of a successful artist. She is asking the question that everyone asks after a person, successful or not, commits suicide: Why? But it is a question that even if we, the people left behind, draw conclusions based on notes, conversations, or statements prior to the final act, can never answer. It does not matter if you are a close friend, relative, lover or business associate; it doesn’t matter if you didn’t personally know the guy: you’ll never know the real reason he did it. Everything remains speculation.
So why discuss it? Why does it matter if a person shut themselves in an airtight room, lit a fire in a grill, downed some Xanax and a bottle of Vodka, lay down and died of carbon monoxide poisoning? For that matter, why does it matter that in late July 1890 a guy shot himself in the chest with a revolver and died of an infection the next day? And why does it matter that a guy in the process of drinking himself to death crashes his car and dies at the age of 44? Or, how boring, just makes art to the very end and dies peacefully in his bed ? Finally, why does it matter how, when, where or why an artist died; isn’t it more important that the artist lived and what he or she created while here? Ideally yes, but we humans are going to always be fascinated by these things.
Back to Mr. Kelley and Ms. Crow’s article about him. The major traveling retrospective of his career that he did not live to see, even though he was alive for 5 of the six years it was being planned, and his suicide one year before its opening sent things into quite disarray according to the exhibition organizers. So this raises the question, could he not bear to witness what would have, should have, been a mid career retrospective? Mr. Kelley’s career spanned only 30 years. Aside from his heavy drinking in the last few years of his life, his depression, anxiety, agoraphobia, and diseases not atypical to the average middle aged American male (heart disease, gout), he could easily have continued another 30 years. But he chose not to. According to the article he was working “furiously to the end; to some he had confided that he felt pressure and did not know if he could keep “pace with his ideas and the art world’s expectations of him”; to others he stated he was losing faith in art itself, which for an artist who lived for his art (he had no kids, no wife, taught a while but gave it up to focus on his studio practice) was a major crisis questioning his reason for living. Four months prior to his suicide The Guardian gave a very harsh review to his most recent work on view at Gagosian Gallery, London, basically saying his new work was just a repeat of what he had been doing the past 20 years, he was beating a dead horse.
So, does the art world put too much pressure on the successful ones to keep creating like they did at the high point of their success? Are overly harsh reviews “just a part of the job” or should artists learn to ignore them, doing what some authors, musicians and theater people do: don’t read them? How much authority should we give critics for molding how we look at art? Who should we allow to determine the value of an artist’s work?
Ms. Crow states, “Kelley matters to art history in part because he discovered a potent way to pick up where Pop art left off.“ He asked the question, “Could fine art really be made from middle class vernacular? Did the basements of America have anything profound to say?” And as his friend and colleague Tony Oursler said, "He looked at Pop and thought, 'Why did they stop there? Why is it all so tasteful? Why didn't they go all the way down because there are plenty of sublevels in society to explore.'"
Aren’t these the things we should be focused on when looking at an artist’s work, at his or her career? Why is this person important to the whole of art history, what makes his or her work stand out? What questions did the artist ask, try to answer, and then leave open to more questions for the other artist coming after him or her to try and answer?
I have always found it interesting that during Mr. Kelley’s career the journalists, critics, and “art world talkers”, always wanted to bring the personal autobiography of the artist into his work, even when he said what they were ‘reading’ wasn’t there. He was always very clear about what his work was about. And the art world media acknowledged, nodding their heads in acknowledgement to what he was saying while at the same time they were whispering out one side of their mouths “but it really is about this”. Ms. Crow mentions how for a while Mr. Kelley approached the press with a provocative attitude, sort of ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’. But as he stated in 1996:
"I had to abandon working with stuffed animals for this reason. There was simply nothing I could do to counter the pervasive psycho autobiographical interpretation of these materials. I decided, instead, to embrace the social role projected on me, to become what people wanted me to become: a victim."
To allow yourself to be made a victim is very damaging. Is one’s art worth this? Even if one allows oneself to be victimized, isn’t it still the one/group doing the victimizations fault?
Looking at the title chosen for this article, The Escape Artist, I ask, what was Mike Kelley trying to escape from with his suicide? I do believe this answer is on a certain level left open. Yes, the depression, the anxiety, the phobias, the break up with his girl friend, his older brother’s suicide, his sister’s and his mother’s deaths could all have been factors contributing to his suicide. But ultimately, I believe the pressures created by the ‘art world’ play a big role in his suicide. This was a person who moved to Los Angeles in the mid1970s instead of New York City, the “art capital”, because it spooked him. He was obviously a very sensitive individual who played the game as long as he could, but then he couldn’t play it any more. Can we, should we, hold the art world accountable for an artist’s suicide? This question probably can’t be answered any more than why he committed suicide, but we should ask it and be aware of why we need to ask it.
July 3, 2014
This is the fourth and final article about Kehinde Wiley, yet it bears similarities to the other articles. Like the first by Ms. Smith it is a review of a museum exhibition of paintings from his “World Stage” series. It is related to the second article in that it was published around the same time. It is least superficially related to the third article, but Ms. Kulsh does bring up issues of identity and ambiguity, which were discussed in that article. And, in reference to the third article, in this exhibit it is all men, no women like the ones Mr. Wiley was painting at the time the third article was written. Ms. Kulsh points this out as a “flaw” along with a response that two elderly [white, Jewish?] women had to this lack of human female form. Ms. Kulsh tells how the women searched for the female it buried in the backgrounds among the birds, but unable to resolve if it was there. In regards to Mr. Wiley’s statements regarding women in art in the third article, this does not seem unreasonable or out of place. Is it a flaw? Probably not. I think Mr. Wiley is pretty clear on his focus on the male. In fact, I think I might find his portraits of females more “flawed”. But I need to see them both to decide. Maybe it is a flaw of Ms. Kulsh to mention it as such?
From Ms. Kulsh’s description the works appear in line with Mr. Wiley’s process, with his concept. One thing I find interesting is how much emphasis is placed by Ms. Kulsh on the males not as individuals, but as “types”. They are described as young, able-bodied, instructed to give a “proud”, stately, yet guarded look. They are wearing everyday street clothes, but those clothes are “brands,” which in the club and street milieu from which Mr. Wiley pulled his models lend status and definition of identity. And yet the models are also described as “marginalized”. This is interesting because the male models are said to belong to three different groups of Israeli men: Israeli Jews, Ethiopian Jews and Israeli Arabs. Do the viewers see all three groups represented as equally marginalized? And back to Ms. Kulsh remark concerning the lack of the female form; is its absence a form of marginalization of the female form by the artist?
This exhibit is on view in California, not Israel, so the lens through which it is being viewed is the one ground by American history, culture, society. Ms. Kulsh states that the use models from the three different groups underscores the struggle of the immigrant, in this case the Ethiopian Jews, for recognition in this society. The collapse of the individual to a type is Mr. Wiley’s playing with ambiguity of identity. This depiction is according to Ms. Kulsh Mr. Wiley asking the question: “How can a nation hope to forge a cohesive identity if its members are so different?” Is he commenting on the roles and relations in a society that has diversity of people but is not diverse? And is this commentary a reflection on the American society from which Mr. Wiley comes? Probably, most likely yes. And no. Being true to his ambiguous sense, he points us in the other direction, away from diversity, by downplaying the differences in his models. This, as Mr. Miller stated, is what makes Mr. Wiley’s works paintings: they don’t answer questions, they ask more questions.
Ms. Kulsh does make a statement in reference to Mr. Wiley’s use of historical quotes and metaphors in the intricate backgrounds surrounding and overtaking the figures being portrayed that Ms. Smith, but not Mr. Miller, would agree with: “While this is all magisterial and superficially pleasing, the connection between allusion and model remains fuzzy.” Mr.Miller would probably define the connection not as “fuzzy” but “ambiguous”. And that would seem to closer to Mr. Wiley’s intention. But what if his intention is not being understood without reading about his work?
Finally Ms. Kulsh makes reference to Mr. Wiley’s commercial success and business savvy by way of the gift shop. With his portraits emblazoned on skateboards, how is this different from all of the images we find on postcards, t-shirts, tote bags, etcetera, etcetera in museum gift shops (and stores, and online) around the world? Ms. Kulsh does not seem to find this a flaw, and does not mention the commercialization of Mr. Wiley’s work with the same “bad taste in mouth” manner that Ms. Smith did. But in mentioning it Ms. Kulsh puts it out there for us to consider. Should Mr. Wiley, or any artist, be criticized for making a buck off his work in his lifetime? Does commercial success degrade the art?
July 3, 2014
This is the third article I have read on Kehinde Wiley and my first thoughts are how it differs from the first two. The first was a review of an exhibition, written by a critic [Roberta Smith] I would deem “the establishment” and published in the NY Times. While there was a small glimmer of hope in that review, in general I found it pretty negative and would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of it. And based upon the jab that was taken at that review in this article, I would say Mr. Wiley did not appreciate it either. The second article, which was actually published after this article, is a description-explanation-exploration of Mr. Wiley’s series “World Stage”. It is an overall positive article, and I felt it was in many ways a response to Ms. Smith’s review. The author, DJ Spooky aka Paul D. Miller, I would define as an artist-intellectual of the “new world order”. While he is not coming from the traditional visual art world, to which Mr. Wiley does come from, his own art and intellectual explorations are also anchored very much in the visual. That article I found benefits Mr. Wiley’s work the most via its placement of the work in a historical-philosophical context. I found it to be open to allowing the viewer of Mr. Wiley’s paintings to form his/her own opinion using the conceptual tools Mr. Miller presented. I do not know how much direct input/cooperation Mr. Miller had from Mr. Wiley when he wrote this article; that would be interesting to know, but ultimately not really important.
This third article differs from the first two in that it is essentially an interview-studio visit with the artist, and although the writer’s voice is very present in the text, it does not dominate it. Whereas the first article was published in a major newspaper, the second in a regional art journal, this one is a short piece in a larger group of articles published in what I would call a “leisure magazine”. [Full disclosure- I have subscribed to New York Magazine and NY Times for many years, reading both for information and leisure] When I began re-reading the article (having read it upon original publication) I immediately thought back to something that was said to me by a post-doc faculty member leading a seminar while I was an Art History student in Germany: never cite, listen to, consider, or trust what an artist has to say about his work; only consider as fact what critics and historians have to say. Needless to say the artist in me took this statement with a grain of salt. But I do understand why an art historian or critic would say such a thing, especially when an artist like Mr. Wiley says ‘this is the process, this is how I do it. Or not. It is a complete fraud. It is all made up.’ Add that to the discussion of originality/plagiarism/mimicry.
This article/interview as a part of the feature piece “How to Make It in the Art World” implies that Mr. Wiley’s success is in part a result of his distance to the center of the art world [NYC] because it allows him to retain the mystery of his process. This is false in that Mr. Wiley had already begun to find career success before opening his Beijing studio in 2006. A studio away from the center is not about the financial savings, it is really about preservation of the myth.
I found the analogies Mr. Wiley makes to theater, to show business intriguing. In Mr. Miller’s article he used similar analogies to explain the relation of Mr. Wiley’s placement of African American males in contexts which they are not traditionally placed in as a form of ‘color-blind casting’. And just as Mr. Miller then cited how August Wilson rejects his practice when it denies African American’s their identity, culture, and humanity by only defining them as mimics, yet affirms the right to cast roles as part of the cultural remix; Mr. Wiley too affirms an ambiguous stance in relation to his paintings.
“Painting does more than just point to things,” Wiley says. “The very act of pointing is a value statement.” He crosses his arms, pointing in opposite directions. “I’m just doing this sometimes.”
In her review Ms. Smith appears to devalue the identity questions Mr. Wiley raises in his paintings as derivative of the same issues dealt with by such artists as Andy Warhol. On the other hand Mr. Miller places the identity issues in a greater context, identity is no longer about the individual, but about the group. In this interview Mr. Wiley seems to be saying it is about both the individual and the group. It is about the personal as well as the academic notions of identity. And it is about a lot more than just identity. What I find interesting in this piece is that Mr. Beam, in his descriptions of Mr. Wiley, could in many ways be describing Mr. Warhol, but then again, it is clearly not Mr. Warhol who he is describing. While I find the description interesting and insightful, I am not sure how much further it brings me in understanding his work. But I also don’t think it should be disregarded. Is the artist’s identity also a part of the myth?
Another thing I find interesting in this article is the description of Mr. Wiley’s series about the historic representation of women in art. The previous two articles dealt only with his representation of men. And just as Ms. Smith had difficulties accepting Mr. Wiley’s representation of African American males in traditional European poses, I wonder if I too would have a similar problem accepting Mr. Wiley’s depiction of women? I do not like the implications and remarks he makes regarding the depiction of women in traditional paintings, but at the same time, he isn’t wrong. But does that mean his process can be applied to women just as he has applied it to men?
Finally, I find the depiction of Mr. Wiley’s uneasiness with the role studio assistants play amusing. On one hand he goes to great lengths to preserve the myth of the “artist’s hand”, yet all the while he is destroying the myth by calling it what it is. Interestingly, Ms. Smith, whose own praise for Mr. Wiley’s work on view at Studio Museum Harlem was contained in the revelation of that “artist’s hand” in the skins of paint/painting of the skin, which may have nothing to do with Mr. Wiley’s hand, seems to uphold this myth. Yet she of all people knows so much of what is, has and will be created by the art world is manufactured by assistants and not created by the “artist’s hand”. Do I feel Mr. Wiley’s work lessened by the role, whatever it may be, that his assistants play in its creation? No. Do I find these types of questions tiring or moot, as Mr. Wiley does? Yes.
July 3, 2014
I read Roberta Smith's review of Kehinde Wiley’s exhibit at Studio Museum before I read this piece, a general look into Mr. Wiley’s studio and at his “World Stage” paintings. Therefore, although I write about Mr. Miller’s article in particular, I am also writing in general about my reaction to both Ms. Smith’s and Mr. Miller’s articles.
While I don’t feel that Mr. Miller’s article was written as a direct response to Ms. Smith’s review, I do feel that it is in a sense a response to the ‘established art world’s’ relationship to Mr. Wiley’s paintings, for me exemplified by Ms. Smith’s review. In his article Mr. Miller appears to be trying to contextualize and explain to that ‘established art world’ Mr. Wiley’s paintings from the viewpoint of the ‘new art world’ of which both he and Mr. Wiley are a part. I understand this ‘new world’ as being differentiated from that ‘established world’ not only by a generational divide, but also by a cultural divide.
Mr. Miller identifies the problem that the ‘old world’ is having with Mr. Wiley’s paintings as a “crisis of categories”, his work is not fitting into the established paradigm, instead it is fanning “the flames of a certain kind of hysteria about the role of the African American male in what has usually been a politics of aesthetics”. When I read Ms. Smith’s review of Mr. Wiley’s exhibit at Studio Museum, I had the feeling this is what was happening in her review. Specifically, I felt the reason she responded to the paintings of the African males differently, more ‘positively’ was because she could had closed herself to the possibility of placing the African American males in the same role. There was an overall sense of un-openness in her review.
On the other hand, Mr. Miller’s discussion of Mr. Wiley’s work has for me an overall approach that is very open, exemplified by his repetition of ultimately leaving the judgement of Mr. Wiley’s work to the viewer. Now, the roles of the two articles do preclude these approaches, Ms. Smith wrote a review of an exhibit, Mr. Miller wrote a description of works and the studio practice from which they evolve. Is it possible to retain the openness which Mr. Miller displays in his article in an exhibit review of the type Ms. Smith wrote?
One point that I found interesting in both articles is the relationship the authors make between Mr. Wiley’s work and illustration. In Ms. Smith’s article she cites the qualities of Mr. Wiley’s earlier (pre-Studio Museum exhibit) work that make it seem more like illustration than like painting in a rather negative manner. She praises the new works because the more traditional, from her viewpoint, nature of painting is coming through in the works. She seems to see this as a sign of progress, of artistic maturity. On the other hand, Mr. Miller’s contextualization of Mr. Wiley’s paintings as historical references to propaganda posters, particularly those from Communist China and the Soviet Union, comes across in a more positive manner, expressing the vital role this plays in the work overall. Mr. Miller, unlike Ms. Smith, does not devalue the work because of its poster-like qualities; he shows the value that is added to the work through this reference. This poster aesthetic adapted by Mr. Wiley is explained as completion of the “cycle of appropriation” relevant to the message of revolution, of progress, of bringing “mixed messages into the public domain”. For Ms. Smith it seems with this, Mr. Wiley is putting the conceptual too much ahead of the visual in his work; for Mr. Miller it is a relevant component, a remix, reminding us “again, and again” of the works’ message.
Another area where Ms. Smith and Mr. Miller differ is in Mr. Wiley’s placement of African American males in contexts, juxtaposition of roles in which they have here too not been placed before: nobleman, saint, prophet. Ms. Smith is more comfortable when Mr. Wiley places African males into roles that originate in African culture. Is this because she is uneasy with African American male claims to European culture? Mr. Miller makes clear early in his essay, European and African culture are the historical origins of African American males, and Mr. Wiley is an African American artist. He may be looking at the “World Stage” and using/referencing/mixing visual quotations from “other cultures”, but he is approaching the stage as an American, and both cultures are his and the African American males he is painting. There is no singular here, there is multiplicity. On the other hand Mr. Wiley’s identity as gay does not seem relevant to Mr. Miller, unlike to Ms. Smith, why?
Mr.Miller’s analogy of the undefined edges of a world map where the “monsters be” is an analogy that I don’t feel Ms. Smith would understand per her review. That Mr. Wiley mirrors and absorbs the Old Master works by taking them beyond their defined realms, and by doing this he makes them his own, creating a new place where there are no monsters, signifies the openness and originality of his work according to Mr. Miller. Openness is necessary to take this leap over the edge, beyond the established boundaries.
Where Ms. Smith finds Mr. Wiley’s use of photography/new technologies, or in Mr. Miller’s words “technical crutches” (software), deadening to the paintings, Mr. Miller shows them as the vital part of what connects the old context to the new content. Both authors refer to Mr. Wiley’s compositions as “unstable”, yet Ms. Smith sees this as negative, fussy, while Mr. Miller sees it as adding to the precariousness of the relationship Mr. Wiley creates between content and context.
Mr. Wiley’s process, taking the images from the real to the ‘hyper-real”, these are the driving force of the paintings according to Mr. Miller. Ms. Smith finds that this process keeps Mr. Wiley from making the content his own; until his technical depiction of human flesh in paint matches her own perception of painting he is not creating, just replicating. But replicating is a key part of creating today according to Mr. Miller, and besides, the use of technologies is not new to painting; this is Mr. Wiley’s entrance into the process debate. And part of this debate is adding layers and nuance via these technologies, via these remixes, via these juxtapositions of content and context.
“Real is as real does” writes Mr. Miller, and this, he says, is part of the concept of Mr. Wiley’s work. It is also, he states, “a driving phrase of hip-hop’s American credo”, placing the work in a specific cultural context. When real becomes the hyper-real, what is reality then? This is the question Mr. Miller says Mr. Wiley asks in his paintings. Asking questions, not giving answers is according to Mr. Miller what painting is, and this is what he feels Mr. Wiley’s work does.
Both writers compare Mr. Wiley to Andy Warhol, but Mr. Miller’s comparison is in the process by which he creates (positive), whereas Ms. Smith’s is in relation to concept, particularly identity, and she states he is “overly indebted” (negative). According to Mr. Miller, Mr. Wiley, like Mr. Warhol, goes out into the ‘real’ world, gathers his subjects and brings them back into his made up world. Ms. Smith on the other hand seems to be fixated on both artists use of celebrities and unknowns as subjects and how that relates to the identity of that particular subject. She does not recognize the relation of the process to the content.
Mr. Miller uses the analogy of the statement “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar” as representing the collision of what we want to believe is real in Mr. Wiley’s work, and the reality he creates, driven by his process. I feel that this exemplifies a point of contention between Ms. Smith’s and Mr. Miller’s understanding of Mr. Wiley’s work: one wants to attribute his work to painting per her traditional definition of what painting is, the other does not feel it even necessary to call it painting, because he sees it as having been taken beyond that boundary, that definition. For Mr. Miller, Mr. Wiley’s work is portraiture, not painting per Ms. Smith’s definition, but it still is painting. Only now it is painting that has become a portrait of something larger than the individual portrayed: it is a portrait of a question.
One of Ms. Smith criticisms of Mr. Wiley’s work is that it is not original, but by viewing it through Mr. Miller’s description of the understanding of originality, and legitimacy, through other cultural attitudes, the viewer of the work is given more food for thought; questions. Mr. Wiley’s paintings ask the question: what is originality?
June 30, 2014
This is a review in The New York Times of an exhibit of paintings by Kehinde Wiley at Studio Museum Harlem. The author’s main question concerning the work in this exhibit is, is it art [which I take to be defined here as something timeless/lasting], or just a passing fad? She identifies the artist as young, but already quite successful by art world standards (15 solo shows at museums and galleries worldwide, multiple studios NY and China, assistants). But she claims that despite the successful career, and his technical and conceptual skills, he has not yet reached artistic maturity. What is artistic maturity? Ms. Smith answers her initial question by determining that these works are not yet art, but no longer just a passing fad. Now it they are filled with potential for future artistic [as opposed to commercial?] development, unlike the earlier, commercially successful work. Does this mean the artist is maturing?
I understand Ms. Smith’s description of Mr. Wiley as being like a smart and witty 10 year old. He has the vocabulary, he is amusing and can hold the attention of a group of adults in a conversation. But the conversation cannot be taken to a meaningful level because the 10 year old is unable to add meaning to the big words and witty remarks he is making due to his lack of maturity. There is a lack of depth.
Ms. Smith makes it clear that she does not see the work in this exhibit as being yet worthy of a museum show. It is still, she remarks, a “commercial gallery show”. I understand this to mean, it is more about the sales, less about the art. Depth is not important to a commercial gallery. More about the superficial, less about the deeper value of the work. In her reference to Andy Warhol’s “15 minutes of fame” quote and comparison of Mr. Wiley’s paintings to the illustrations of Norman Rockwell she places his work to this point outside the realm of ‘high art’, in the realm of illustration, where ideas are depicted but not resolved or even meaningfully debated. Her statement that in his work the conceptual is greater than the visual leads me to visualize as such:
If Then
conceptual visual
----------------- = illustration ----------------- = art
visual conceptual
Does this also mean
visual conceptual
----------- = decorative and ----------------- = theoretical ?
visual conceptual
Ms. Smith describes Mr. Wiley’s work prior to this exhibit as taking contemporary African American males, both famous and unknown, and depicting them with attributes of contemporary African American male culture [complexity of imagery/bling] in classic European portraiture and icon paintings. Some of the problems Ms. Smith identifies in that work are the “slickness” of the surface which gives a mechanical look to the handmade, compositions which are “fussy and unstable” and the “defensive and misogynistic” expressions of the subjects. She also cites the work as being “overly indebted to artists and photographers working with issues like identity and celebrity; in other words the works are not original enough.
With the works in this exhibit Ms. Smith says that the problems in Mr. Wiley’s previous works are receding because he is doing what all painters do “developing a surface of his own”. She writes that the compositions are “calmer”, the figure/ ground relationships are more tightly controlled, and she really likes the direction the painting of the skin has taken- mesmerizing, can’t stop looking at it. In the previous works the painting she thought, especially of human flesh, was less about the painting, the work was “rote, filled in”. In these works the idea of skin as paint and flesh is there. This makes the works according to Ms. Smith no longer about a photo source, but now about the painting are of a subject, of a person, and not of a type, of an object.
Ms. Smith questions if this development in Mr. Wiley’s work is because he is no longer depicting African American men, but painting African men. The attributes of African American male culture are gone, a “simplicity” has replaced this. The expressions of the subjects are not “defensive and misogynistic” but “open”. The poses are not based on classic European portraiture, but on pre-colonial figures and post-colonial sculpture. I wonder if she is implying that the poses, because they are more relevant culturally to the subject now add to the depiction of the subject’s humanity? She questions if the leap Mr. Wiley has made in the direction of the skin as paint and flesh is a result of the darker, more consistent skin tones of the subjects, which she says offer greater chromatic possibilities and challenges. Does this mean lighter skin tones offer less chromatic possibilities and challenges? Perhaps Mr. Wiley’s paintings in this exhibit have moved from the realm of illustration closer to the realm of “high art” as Ms. Smith writes. But I question if Ms. Smith’s own ideas concerning the African American male culture depicted in his earlier works gets in the way of her seeing those works in the way she sees the more recent work? The words she uses in describing the newer work, especially “simplicity”, “openness” and the older work “defensive and misogynistic”, “posturing”, and “unstable” raise this question for me. Do we continue to define what art is opposed to what is merely commercial fads based upon our own cultural biases? Is there a way around this? And even if we are able to go beyond our own biases, can we convinces others that we are doing so?
July 3, 2014
Interview with artist Anthony Gormley by the DeCordova Museum Sculpture Park & Museum upon their purchase of his sculpture Reflection II.
The sculpture is composed of two full-body iron casts of a man (the artist) standing, mirroring each other between the plate glass at the museum’s entry.
Gormley uses his own body as the subject because, he states, it is “the only bit of the material world I inhabit completely”. They are not meant to represent or replicate him; what he is attempting is to capture in the cast is a moment of being in which the body, always dynamic, always moving, exists. The moment of being is a moment of confrontation. The confrontation is with the self; here Gormley uses the example of Lacan’s “mirror stage”, recognizing self-consciousness, self recognition is not something we are born with, but develops with maturity. Thus, REFLECTION.
The piece at the DeCordova is two figures of equal value placed one on each side of the glass at the museum building’s entry. The “mirroring” of the figures is signifying a confrontation of the internal and external man. The one is outside in ‘nature’, the other is inside in ‘culture’. This confrontation asks the question: what does it mean to inhabit both spaces, both bodies? Gormley refers to the systolic/diastolic nature of the sculpture’s placement at the Museum as creating out of the building a surrogate for a heart-like structure.
He asks the question: “Can the stillness and silence of sculpture make our engagement with the museum more reflexive?” and answers it, “ I hope so.“ For Gormley this seems to be what makes the placement of this sculpture in this context (not his usual preferred siting) important. The possibility that someone will understand this placement and the key question the work generates, “what is a human being and where do we belong?”.
I think these questions are important for any artist to ask. I do think in place of “the museum” the question should be posed to the overall space in which the sculpture, or for that matter any artwork, exists. Must it be “stillness and silence” per se? Or is it the general sensibility the artwork is expressing? A work must not be still and silent to make our engagement with the surrounding space more reflexive, but it must express something which does set forth the reaction of engagement. As to the second, key question asked by the work, I feel any artwork addressing any quality of ‘human-ness’, be it figurative, emotional or biological, has at its base this question. It is the ultimate question of our existence.
The material Gormley chose to work with in this piece, iron, is relevant to him because it is what is at the Earth’s core and as it poured into the form it is at about the same temperature as when it is in the core. It is not a precious material, but an industrial material used for mechanical reproduction. Gormley associates the mineral and geological components of the iron with the composition of fossils, invoking a fossil like state of the cast bodies.
As “cloned objects” the forms relate to this machinic origin. The casts are not clean representations of the human body, but industrially produced objects, left in a state where the process of their production is still visible, displaying that moment, as he states like “a footprint, thumbprint or shadow...a trace of the existence of a particular human body”. Evidence of the process by which the work exists is for Gormley “the work’s truth claim”.
Truth for Gormley is not found in a generic, universal human figure, but in the recognition of individuality and subjectivity. As individuals we recognize the possibility for all within ourselves.
Overall based upon the works description by the artist in this interview I would say it seems a very straightforward approach to the questions the artist is asking and the statements he is making. The choices made have a very concrete reasoning which make it somewhat easy to grasp. It seems to be a strong reflection of the theories and thoughts regarding human existence of the time in which it has been made. It leaves the key question as a question, open, yet replicates our current state in a closed, unquestioning manner.
July 3, 2014
The simulacrum is a copy of an original, the original is ‘real’. The simulacrum by means of its existence as a copy supersedes the reality of the original thus becoming more than ‘real’, it has become ‘hyperreal’.
The simulacra exists only through its relationship to the original. If the original no longer exists, the simulacra no longer exists because the meaning behind its existence is the original. Without meaning it has no existence. Is this true? It had a previous truth, but this is no longer true today according to Baudrillard. The simulation, the copy of something real has today moved beyond the reality of the original, which may no longer exist, to occupy a space beyond reality, a space where it has gained new, greater meaning as an individual entity originating as a copy, but progressing to a state of self-replication.
In this new state, reality is moulded by the model. The ideal of what is ‘real’ no longer exists. Instead, the ‘real’ is reproduced from the minute parts of its being and from its models; it is no longer answerable to a rational existence based upon an ideal of itself. Because the ideal of the ‘real’ no longer exist, neither does the ‘real’ exist. It has been replaced by the ‘hyperreal’. The hyperreal is created through the synthesis of many different self-contained parts, which combine to form a whole.
The parts of the hyperreal are self-contained but not self-referential. The hyperreal does not duplicate, reproduce or refer to the ‘real’; rather the hyperreal referenced the ‘real’ through signs of the ‘real’. The hyperreal is neither a part of the real nor of the imaginary; it is the circular recurrence of models and the manufactured action of difference (that which makes each copy a unique entity).
“To dissimulate is to feign not to have what one has. To simulate is to feign to have what one hasn't”.
Dissimulation implies that something is there, it contains the ‘real’, it is ‘true’. On the other hand simulation implies something is not there, but through the act of simulation sometimes what is really not there can be called into being, produced, so that the copy is there. This puts the whole idea that of true/false and the real to question. If something that isn’t there can be re-produced to the state as if it is there, what is truth?Baudrillard’s example of psychosomatic illness producing symptoms of an illness which is in reality not present, shows how this uncertainty produced by the simulation places the whole concept behind how medicine and psychology addresses and treats illness into question. They treat what is there, not what is not there, only simulated. Could one use the placebo effect, where a medicine which does not contain the ingredients to cure or relieve symptoms does through the conviction of the patient that the medicine is really there when it is not to treat the symptoms of a simulated illness? By doing this the simulated treatment would enter the space of hyperreality occupied by the simulated illness. This would in general mean when dealing simulations one must shift all points which one approaches a simulation to the hyperreal space the simulation occupies, no?
In a time where the notion of ‘true’ and ‘false’, what is ‘real’ and what is not has been put to question, there has been a necessary hesitation into describing anything as such. The copy has reached a point where it express the ‘true’ so convincingly that it is accepted as ‘true’ even when it is known as ‘false’, but this indistinction is subversive of truth. According to Baudrillard this new space lacks the clear categories found in classical modernism which kept this subversiveness at bay.
Baudrillard takes this idea of the subversive character of the simulation and applies it to religions with the forbidding of icons, images depicting God or gods. The ‘truth’ held in the concept of God is undermined by the copy of the image of God. How can you have more than one true God when you are reproducing the ‘truth’. The ‘real’ God is replaced by the copy, destroying the ‘truth’. Baudrillard cites the Iconoclasts as having identified and dealt with this by describing the images for what they truly are, hyperreal: there is no God, only a constantly self-replicating copy of God, God is his own simulacrum. As they could not live with this understanding of the non-existence of God, all images and icons must be destroyed in order to preserve the divine notion of God’s existence. On the other hand Baudrillard identified the Iconolatry as “modern and adventurous minds”, playing “the game”; venerating the God-icons, yet recognizing the emptiness behind them and ignoring it. Further are the Jesuits, who recognize the virtual demise of God and thus transcendence, which in turn is put to use in strengthening their political actions. This “murderous capacity of images”, the ability of the image to destroy the ideal while also having the ability to represent the ‘real’ has been at the basis of the Western discourse on the existence of God according to Baudrillard. If the copy defines the original, and has generated itself as an original, how can the original exist?
Representation and Sign
sign = real [utopian, yet a fundamental axiom]
simulation = negation of sign [sign has no value]
[representation(sign = false representation)]
[sign(representation)]
Phases of image(basic reality)
1. reflection - good
REAL
2. change - evil
3. absence - apparition NEOREAL?
---------------------------------turning point
4. no relation - simulacrum HYPERREAL
July 3, 2014
Texts/Quotes from the website: http://barbarahepworth.org.uk
The sculptor on what sculpture is.
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Ms. Hepworth seemed to have found carving more interesting than modeling because the nature of the material dictates the nature of the object carved. For Ms. Hepworth in modelling this does not happen.Does this mean in modelling the artist, not the material, forms the object, through his or her manipulation of the material?
By first learning to appreciate the qualities which give life to the form of living things (plant or animal) and then applying these qualities to abstract forms, one is able to appreciate abstract, non-representational sculpture. The key to understanding and appreciating art (abstract/representation/non-representational) is by first learning to see and appreciate the qualities in non-art which carry over to art. I think this concept put forth by Ms. Hepworth does go in the direction of a ‘universal truth’ about sculpture and all forms of art.
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“The sculptor carves because he must.” Replace “sculptor” and “carve” with any noun and verb related to the creative process and this statement becomes a universal truth. Creating is not a matter of choice for the creator. The material selected to create is inspired by the idea that wants to be expressed. Going back to the first statement of carving vs. modelling this would imply that the creative process is circular: idea calls forth the material/process and the material/process calls forth the form of the idea (existence).
“...harmony comes with the discovery of the most direct way of carving each material according to its nature." Stone is hard, resistant, precision is called for, response to the individual nature of each stone is needed. Clay is malleable, changeable, precision is not needed, the individuality of a particular piece of clay is not present. I wonder what analogies can be found to materials and techniques in other creative fields? I think they exist in all fields and is why artists tend to specialize in one material or another.
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At the time that Ms. Hepworth stated that “full sculptural expression is spatial...three dimensional” it might have been. This is no longer the case, and hasn’t been for quite a while. But what she says about the sculptor’s relationship to the materials, applied to all creative fields is true still today. A sensibility to the material’s qualities/character is necessary to give form to the idea. Scale is no longer about a physical quality, scale has gone beyond the physical to the virtual.
Although the term “abstract” is most commonly associated with the exterior form or appearance, it is really also, and probably more so today, about the interior thoughts and concepts which are being externally expressed. I think this is why common, everyday objects can be taken from one context and placed in another. It is not a matter of simply symbolism (this represents that) but an abstraction of the original meaning. I think the abstraction of form,
thought and concept that was achieved early and mid-20th century artists is what has enabled us to move beyond the historical definitions of sculpture and painting.
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One of my older son’s first words, and definitely his favorite shape for the first three years of his life was ‘oval’. I often thought that this was not just because the sound and feeling of saying the word in English and German (he is bilingual and the word is very similar in both languages) is quite pleasurable, but because the form itself is so basic, so natural, so full of life that it speaks to us as a mirror of ourselves. I personally like squares, but I think that is something that is learned. Preference for “oval” is a part of us from the start. Ovals are not like circles which tend to be too perfect; ovals leave room for individuality within the form. Other shapes tend to be formulas, invented by humans. Ovals supercede human invention, we can only look at them, analyze them, and learn from them, explore the infinite variety of the form.
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Carving requires firmness in idea, yet flexibility in response.
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How does ‘place’ inspire and influence what we create?
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The artist’s approach to the material needs to be less dominating and more responding. The act is not purely physical, nor can it be purely mental. It is a balance of both.
The artist responds by sensing, both through physical feelings and mental knowledge. The response is personal, and the artist needs to find his or her own response and break it down in order to make the form his or her own.
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“I had felt the most intense pleasure…” When the breakthrough occurs, the artist feels it.
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Breakthroughs happen not just once, further breakthroughs and changes in the artist’s work will occur. Sometimes it might involve returning to before the previous breakthrough to explore other possibilities.
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Even in times when one cannot create in one’s chosen mode, one must create in other modes. Feed the ideas and interests in other ways. Keep the thought process alive. Change that is expected might not be the change which will occur. But something will happen. Don’t lose sight of it.
The artist must form an intimate relationship with the art he or she is creating; becoming a part of it- the object [or subject?] held within while at the same time observing it from without.
Again, what is the significance of the place in which we create to our art?
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Abstract drawing vs. Life Drawing= Response to what is happening within the drawing vs. Response to that which is happening outside the drawing
Ms. Hepworth found an analogy to her own work within an operating theater. How is my work like that in another seemingly unrelated field? What field might that be? How do we go beyond what we know to find what we know?
How do we look for the whole within the parts?
What is the importance of drawing in this search?
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A small model of a larger sculpture is a ‘dead copy’ whereas a small sculpture is a ‘living’ art work. How does this idea of original and copy apply to contemporary art forms that are based upon the concept of there being no original?
The language the artist develops stays. Words come back, are re-defined, reworked, given new meaning via new materials and context.
For Ms. Hepworth the artist’s hand was an important part of the language she spoke.
In her language place was her punctuation. She seemed to have wished for exclamation points in her mind, but periods were more often reality. What are the exclamation points we seek in our own art?
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What makes art thrilling today? Is the art of yesterday still thrilling us?
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"What is the meaning of sculpture?...we must be aware of this extension of our knowledge of the universe and must utilize it in the service of the continuity of the human spirit." I would say this is a universal truth for all forms of art.
If sculpture communicates an immediate sense of life, how or why do other forms not of art not do this for Ms. Hepworth? She drew. Why was her drawing not on the same level as her sculpture to her?
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Art appeals to and comes out of the primitive parts of our being. It goes beyond mere aesthetics, but it does not dissolve into mysticism. There is a continuity of existence in sculpture [art] just as there is a continuity in the existence of humans. Through this we are able to feel the ‘humanity’ in art.
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“...in a way carving is close to writing music…” It is about all art.
Not starting with the title, but with the shape. The idea was there, the form gave it meaning, the title gives it…?
“It's never easy for a sculptor to have enough money, enough space and enough material to do quickly what he wants to do. Maybe you have to wait. “ But she didn’t not do anything! She made what she could. All artists face these issues; just do what you can for now and keep a record of what you want to do later.
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We are a part of what we create just as we are a part of the world in which we exist.
The artist never takes a ‘holiday’, we are always working. Even with other responsibilities we must always keep working, even if it just a small amount, we need to keep contact with the images in our mind in order for them to grow. True. You can’t plant a tree and expect it to bear fruit in a number of years if you do not prune, water and care for it.
There is joy in working, creating, the process.
Often what we focus on is what has always been with us.
July 3, 2014
The problem lays in the translation. Doesn’t it always?
So, the word that the first translators of Deleuze and Guattari from French to English chose to cover the French word they so often used ‘agencement’ does not really cover all the meanings [contexts] they used this word in. Yet, despite the common acknowledgement among “translators and commentators” that the English word ‘assemblage’ is not a good translation, leaving many important meanings out, they have agreed to keep using it. And the use has spread globally. So this causes a further breakdown in meaning through the imprecision of translation.
Phillips identifies two factors in the problem of translation of ‘agencement’ as ‘assemblage’.
The first factor being that Deleuze and Guattari did not use the French word ‘assemblage’, but chose instead the word ‘agencement’ which has a broader range of meaning. The nature of the word ‘agencement’ implies a specific connection, a relationship between two or more bodies whose arrangement within this relationship gives sense to the concept at hand. There is no singularity here because the part gains meaning through its connection with the other part or parts in the relationship through “specific, yet creative and often unpredictable ways”. ‘Agencement’ implies that within the relationship all parts are of equal standing; it is the connections formed by these parts which become priority within the relationship, this is where the conceptual emphasis lies. It is not about the parts of a whole, but rather about the whole of the parts.
The second factor is the aforementioned translation. As someone who has worked as a freelance translator I quickly realized some words are never fully translatable. Therefore it is often necessary to leave some words whose inadequate translations would lead to the imprecision cited by Phillips, untranslated with a note of explanation, or to add to the chosen word used for translation meaning which it might not have in that language via an explanation of the choice which one made. This doesn’t always work though, sometimes words need to be translated. What then? Translate now, discuss later [which seems to be what Phillips is doing].
In many ways I find that Phillips two factors are really one single factor. Assemblage in English has a direct translation of assemblage in French, and obviously the authors chose not to use that text. And seeing as the academic community was aware of this early on their acceptance of the “not so good translation” was pretty irresponsible. Because the discussion has grown to the level of ‘global knowledge’ it does not seem practical to try to correct this by eliminating the term ‘assemblage’. However when directly citing Deleuze and Guattari one should be clear of their original meaning and make that clear by stating what the terminology in the original text is. This method of operation needs to be considered when addressing all texts originating in another language. If they are inaccessible in the original one needs to be aware of the discourse surrounding the translation of the text in order to gain the most insight into the original intent of the authors. When one reads a translated text, one must recognize that the words one is reading may have meaning beyond the meanings one associates with the word in the language one is reading.
I would say this tactic should also be applied when looking at art. If one only reads the critics’ descriptions of a particular work or body of art and basis all opinions/judgements or influence on those descriptions one is most likely losing some of the intended meaning. Multiple sources are necessary for gaining insight into most thing.
July 3, 2014
The following two sentences found at the very end of this short note stood out to me.
“Thus theory itself can be considered as an assemblage that operates as specific conceptual combinatories in addressing specific problems.”
“Assemblage is one of the terms that today signals the emergence of a new episteme that would be transmodern. “
I understood them as follows:
The complexity of human relations to other living beings as well as to technology (machines, both ancient and yet to be invented) prohibits “one stop shopping” in regards to theory. No single theory can cover it all, and by ‘it’ I mean any relationship involving a living being. However the solution does not exist in a random “pick and choose” fashion. The criteria for the application of theory to relationships lays within the choice of specific concepts relevant to the specific problems at hand and combining those concepts to address those problems.
Venn’s statement regarding assemblage as one of the terms signaling the emergence of a new, defining worldview which he terms ‘transmodern’ makes me ask the question:
Are we there yet? Or has the openness created by the term lead us beyond the mode of thinking defined as transmodern?
July 3, 2014
In this text Marcus and Saka discuss the influence and current application of Deleuze’s and Guattari’s concept of ‘assemblage’ in cultural analysis, in particular pertaining to anthropology and ethnography, and how assemblage is defined, used and referenced by specific researchers in these fields. Deleuze and Guattari, who are according to the authors within the classical modernist tradition, proposed the application of assemblage to the conceptual work grounding all “middle range” theory as a means of radical change within this modernist tradition, not the destruction of it. The theory and its tradition hold, but it is changed.
Addressing this concept of assemblage, DeLanda [2002] is cited as referring to the idea from Deleuze and Guattari of assemblage as a casually ‘machinic’ product resulting from the intersection of two open systems. The nature of machines is that they breakdown. Assemblages do not have a specific beginning or end, although they do end. The time in which they exist is not specified, nor do assemblages possess any substance of identity; assemblages are non-repetitive producers of difference. Marcus and Saka state the attraction to Deleuze’s and Guattari’s concept of assemblage lay for most social scientists less in their application of modernist sensibilities to the concept of assemblage, and more the social scientists’ attraction to the language by which Deleuze and Guattari explore the concept, encouraging appropriation of bits and pieces in the remaking of the “middle range” theory behind their contemporary research projects.
Marcus and Saka define the role of Deleuze’s and Guattari’s approach to assemblage as that of mediators between the two directions of classic modernist thought. On the one side it is the playful, critically aesthetic realm of art and architecture which finds pleasure in chaos. On the other side it is the formal and technical realm of mathematics, set theory and topology, attempting to make order out of chaos by means of structural principles. Assemblage is what connects these two realms.
Assemblage is defined as a concept which can be used as a tool in conjunction with classic modernist theory to talk about the ‘problems’ of heterogeneity which exists within the brief periods of time in cultures today through analysis and writing; the purpose of assemblage as a tool is to sustain the concept of ‘structure’ in research, particularly in the areas of social science.
The nature of the word ‘assemblage’ visually brings to mind putting two or more different things together, to build something new out of different parts, to give something form or structure. This act of putting together, of creating, of doing connotates a change, or as Marcus and Saka imply in this context, a shift from one state to another. On one hand it appears as if something is being given ‘structure’ but at the same time a given structure is being altered. This human form is being constructed using old tin cans; this old tin can now represents a human head.
This shift in relation to assemblage is one occurring over a small time span (from the recent past to the near future). It is a subjective experience which comes about quickly (emerges) and subsides quickly, to be replaced by the next, often overlapping, experience. Or this shift can be objective in nature, a structure which speaks of the relationship of the diversity of its parts. The temporality of this shift is more ‘developmental’, occurring over a longer time frame. And again, this can overlap with the emerging, subjective shifts as well. Assemblage is meant as an experimental approach to subject matter; organic and forming itself to the nature of what is being addressed. The borders are unclear. Marcus and Saka state that it was applied most often to academic interdisciplinary writings in the final decades of the 20th century; these texts Marcus in 1993 referred to as “messy texts”. Assemblage is still being used to a lesser degree in academic writing today, and Marcus and Saka cite four recent text whose authors have incorporated this concept into their writing and research; identifying and defining assemblage as it pertains to each and the influence and relevance of Deleuze’s and Guattari’s definition.
1. Rabinow [2003] in his rethinking of ethnographic research uses assemblage to address the stable [non-emerging?] states of ‘problematization’ and ‘apparatus’ via the temporality of assemblage. Assemblages are different from problematization and apparatus, yet stand in a direct relationship to both. The emerging state, the temporal existence of assemblage, is one of instability. It is the temporality of emergence which is important to Rabinow’s work and lends structure to the diversity of relations. I question if this relationship could be a description of Western Culture today, existing in the temporal realm of assemblage?
2. Ong and Collier [2004] address assemblage as the product of multiple determinants. This cannot be reduced to a single factor. It is emerging, does not always involve the creation of new forms, but involves forms that are shifting or have the potential to shift in their formation. These are “global assemblages” and as such are broad in range, seamless, moving, unstable and diverse. According to Marcus and Saka, Ong and Collier use the term ‘assemblage’ to define and give meaning to the collection of texts they are presenting in this volume which they edited; they, and the texts’ authors are not using it as a tool of analysis. I would view this use as like the covers and binding of a book: it holds the pages together but says nothing of the text. But in this case, can the term ‘assemblage’ be used without applying it to the text contained in the volume and still preserve the value of its meaning?
3. Stewart [2004] is cited by Marcus and Saka as using the term ‘assemblage’ in application to her actual research. Stewart is addressing more the ‘developmental’ shift than the ‘emergent’ shift. Assemblage is something that is experienced through doing and less about arising through analysis [physical as opposed to analytical].
4. Hayles [2004] deals with assemblage as an expression of the relationship between human and machinic life forms, specifically the link of new technologies [the material] to human cognition and the dissolving of the subjectivity with which this occurs. At one point this relationship was considered inconceivable, but is no longer so. In classic modernism Marcus and Saka state the dissolving of subjectivity was not a problem, but the techno-machinic situations we find in human cognition today would be. By applying the concept of assemblage to these situations this problem is resolved, allowing the older modernism to co-exist alongside the technological advances.
Marcus and Saka put forth that via the various uses of assemblage the work is done to establish a “grounded imaginary for analysis true to the modernist aesthetic”. At the same time it is at risk to what is called “by-product states” [Elster]. This is a state of mind or existence that can never be brought about through intention or intellect because the attempt to do so precludes the state one is attempting to bring about. So does this mean by trying to do it it can’t be done because it is already done?
The authors also state that the sustained use of assemblage is not possible due to its inherently elusive state. It can only be used sparingly and in relation to “conditions influenced by modernist theory with structural allusions”. Otherwise it goes beyond allusion, ending nowhere. What does this mean for the application of the concept of assemblage in the visual arts? How far can one go before the meaningfulness dissolves into meaningless?
I feel the key point being made about ‘assemblage’ is that it has its uses. But it is not the only tool in the box. Its biggest benefit in application is that it is an open-ended concept which in turn opens a closed concept. Used correctly [in this case, sparingly and in response to situations for which it is called for] it can take us further than previous concepts allow. IF it is applied incorrectly [messy?] then it is at risk of becoming a rigid and closed system of analysis. The key is for it to remain open.
July 3, 2014
In this text Koed addresses the problem of defining the nature of sculpture and the sculptural, in light of current issues of interdisciplinary approaches to art making and the historic relationship between the term ‘sculptural’ and ‘pictorial’. The purpose of this text by Koed is to explain the differences [or lack there of?]between the sculptural and the pictorial; to provide a ‘tool’ by which further discussion of these two terms can lead to a progressive aesthetic discourse, and to do this openly, by not dictating what either term is.
Historically the difference between what is sculpture and what is picture [painting, drawing, print] has been to reduce the work to its dimensionality. Is the work three- dimensional? Then it is sculpture. Is the work two- dimensional? Then it is a picture. Are the materials being used three dimensional, such as a block of marble, or are they flat, like a piece of paper? Koed states this is not adequate to conceptualizing what makes the sculptural different from the pictorial.
Koed looks at four historically grounded theories of the nature of sculpture. These deal with 1. the physicality of the sculptural (3D versus 2D), 2. the different modes by which we perceive the sculptural as opposed to the pictorial, 3. the differences in perceptual phenomena, and finally, 4. our sensibility to how a work is produced and thus appreciated.
1. the physicality of the sculptural (3D versus 2D)
First, this seems to be the simplest, most common definition of the sculptural [everything 3D] and the pictorial [everything 2D]. Koed sites Herbert Read’s explanation that sculpture creates a 3D object in space while painting attempts to create the illusion of space in the 2D plane. But the problem with this simplistic definition is that all artworks, even paintings are 3D in their material construction. [Even a piece of paper has 3 dimensions no matter how ‘flat’ and lacking in depth it may appear.] Therefore, the sculptural cannot be defined by a physical three dimensionality. Koed also cites Robert Vance’s definition regarding the physical nature of sculpture in that what is important is that the sculptural is designed to really occupy space, and this is what distinguishes sculpture from natural objects. But this doesn’t seem to hold anymore than Read’s definition in that a seemingly 2D work of art can also be designed to occupy space. [Here I think of color field painting. And what about works which have very strong 3D occupation of space, yet the artist chooses to define by the 2D qualities? Here I am thinking specifically of Keith Milow’s ‘drawings’ from the mid-1980s.] Finally as a defining factor based on the physical properties of a work the artistic relevance of the surface, with emphasis on the two dimensionality is given as factor in differentiating the sculptural from the pictorial. But this too is no clearer factor than the others as there are too many overlaps: sculptures whose 2D surface treatments are artistically relevant and paintings surfaces are not relevant. So, physical dimension cannot be a or the defining criteria for what is sculptural, what is pictorial.
2. the different modes by which we perceive the sculptural as opposed to the pictorial
The modes by which we perceive a work of art are addressed as defining criteria. Sculpture to Read is the “art of palpation”. More than just our sense of sight is involved in how we perceive sculpture. Our sense of touch too can be active in sculpture. But touch is not a factor in perceiving painting? While it may not be socially or legally acceptable to go up to a painting and stroke its surface, how often does painting create the desire to do this? As Koed points out, not all sculpture is crying out to be touched [anymore than all paintings are crying out “hands off!”]. He notes, you probably don’t want to touch Flavin’s neon sculptures, or Hirst’s animals immersed in Formaldehyde. And what about sculpture that can’t be touched? Irwin, Turrell, DeMaria, Smithson...we do not deny their works a place in the category of sculpture. Not a solid factor for defining what is sculptural either.
3. the differences in perceptual phenomena
The perceptual phenomena, how we perceive the space [real] in which the work exists, or how the object relates to space [illusional]. Read is cited as stating “sculpture has nothing in common with visual perception”; pictures use illusional space, sculpture uses actual space. [One must only think of cathedral sculptures to see the holes in this argument. And Koed does reference this.] F.David Martin argues it is the way sculpture activates the space around it which defines it. [This too can be said about some painting.]Susanne K. Langer’s definition of sculpture as it relates to perceptual phenomena is focus on the “virtual space” [how does this differ from illusional?] and how it gains meaning in relation to the object occupying it. Again, all can be applied to painting or are lacking in what we have defined as being within the category of sculpture.
4. our sensibility to how a work is produced and thus appreciated
Finally, sensibility as it relates to the production and appreciation as a defining factor in sculptural versus pictorial. Read is cited as stating the sculptural requires a “specifically plastic sensibility” which he deems more complex than the “specifically visual sensibility” of the pictorial. By this is meant how we sense the volume [depth, what is beneath the outer skin or layer...sounds like it can be applied to some paintings too]. Rodin is referenced in how the forms project the interior volumes (the muscles and bones) and Henry Moore’s concept of the ability to experience the weight, the solidity of the shape and to by this to know how it looks on the other (unseen) side. Again, these both can be applied to some paintings and not to some sculptures (Caro, Calder, Land Art). There is no universality in this factor because the experience relating to the senses is subjective to the one experiencing the object. A certain amount of common knowledge would be required to makes this universal, and it is not there. Rodgers is cited as coming close to defining sculpture by a criteria of sensibility because he keeps the definition most open: admitting that his concept of “sculptural thinking” is found in most (not all) sculptures and not excluded from non-sculpture [painting], just more often found in sculpture.
After addressing the historically grounded theories of what makes sculpture sculptural, and finding them all lacking, Koed moves on to the medium of sculpture: materials and content. He suggests that the difference lies not in the materials used, but in how they are used to reflect the nature of the content, what is being expressed, and it’s relation to the space [real and or illusion] in which it exists. So, he concludes, it is not the theories he mentioned before which are essential in distinguishing between the pictorial and the sculptural, but more the way in which the dimensional properties of the material functions in representing the medium. He states this opens up the question of the difference between art forms that use the same materials [sculpture, architecture, jewelry and painting]? His answer: “Sculpture is not the only sculptural art.” If this is the case, then we could also conclude that painting is not the only pictorial art, and this would be true. It would also mean that sculpture can be a pictorial art in as much as painting can be a sculptural art.
This shows that the problem of differentiating between the sculptural and the pictorial cannot be resolved based upon the old categories of classification. These categories have collapsed due to the overlapping nature of, well, most things, today. Yet, despite the collapsing of categories we still seek to categorize. Categorizing, defining what is, adds criteria by which the value of an artwork can be determined. Is this necessary to aesthetic appreciation? No. Therefore it is possible to discuss what sculptural qualities are within the diversity of the media. Is it even relevant today to define what is sculptural and what is pictorial to appreciate the work of art? Yes. By attempting to still define the nature of sculpture and the nature of the picture we are establishing a basis upon which an aesthetical analysis of the art work can occur.
July 3, 2014
“But the autonomy of the work of art, and therefore its material form, is not identical with the magical element in it.”
-Theodor Adorno 18 March 1936 in his letter to Mr. Benjamin in response to this essay.
The age of mechanical reproduction can be identified as the period from early 19th to early 20th century, and specifically Mr. Benjamin is addressing the impact of photography and film on the creation of art. Photography and film destroyed the traditional definition of what a work of art is by disrupting the temporal qualities relevant to a work of art. Space and time were no longer what they use to be. Now an object can be captured in time, its presence sped up, its existence edited and altered in ways that no longer fit the relationship of a work of art to space and time. Without a concrete space or concrete time there is no art.
The ability to capture a moment on film and then reproduce it multiple times also posed a problem for this definition. A work of art should be ‘authentic’. But what is authentic? The original is what is authentic. But what if there is no original? Then nothing is authentic. If nothing is authentic, then there is no art.
But there has to be art! And according to Mr. Benjamin these shifts are nothing new, values, uses and forms of art have shifted throughout history; they just require us to find the definition and values [and form] within the new paradigm.
So Mr. Benjamin, in attempting to preserve ‘art’ in face of the destruction of the traditional values used to define art, calls upon the old concept of a works “aura”, which is the cult value of the object. On one hand it has been destructed by this shift, but on the other hand it remains. I believe this is the “magical element” Mr. Adorno in his letter is referring to. But Mr. Adorno contests Mr. Benjamin’s equation of “aura’ with the autonomy of the work of art.
So, what is the value of the work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction? It has become accessible to the masses via its reproduction, not as an original, but as a reproduction. What value is added by this? Mr. Benjamin writes of the “exhibition value” of the work of art as having replaced the “cult value” of the object, but to a degree this is also still present. In photography he identifies it as the “cult of remembrance”. Here I begin to think how this has developed further into the age of the smartphone, selfie and Instagram; this is where the path has led us.
Mr. Benjamin writes that the destruction of the work of art’s cult value destroyed its autonomy. But the cult value has not been completely destroyed. Anyway, according to Mr. Adorno that is not where the autonomy of the work of art lies. So where is the autonomy in the work of art today?
Does the “exhibition value” of the work of art exist within its commodification? Mr. Benjamin seems to view this commodification as creating a “phony” value, which in turn leads to everyone becoming experts on the value of something.
I found the following statement from Mr. Benjamin interesting, again in light of where we are at today.“Any man today can lay claim to being filmed.” Yes, and published, produced, exhibited, retweeted, “liked”, crowdsourced…. The access that mechanical reproduction opened to the masses in the world of art, news, theater, literature, politics has been exceeded to a degree that Mr. Benjamin could never have imagined. “...Thus, the distinction between author and public is about to lose its basic character.” This distinction is long gone in the 21st century!
“Mechanical reproduction of art changes the reaction of masses toward art.” And how is it now that we are in the age of digital/virtual reproduction where the masses can create the art? Has their reaction been changed? Has the social significance of the art form been changed, reduced, or has it increased? If everyone can make art, what is the value of art?
“Fifty years ago, a slip of the tongue passed more or less unnoticed.” Today it would be tweeted around the world in minutes. And no more depth is revealed now as it was then. We still analyze everything, but with more things to analyze we do it quickly and with less depth. We have taken the close-up to the extreme; revealing everything and nothing.
“The history of every art form shows critical epochs in which a certain art form aspires to effects which could be fully obtained only with a changed technical standard, that is to say, in a new art form. The extravagances and crudities of art which thus appear,..., actually arise from the nucleus of its richest historical energies.” Mr. Benjamin is referring to Dadaism, but what might this be today?
Distraction and concentration- polar opposites. When we look at art we concentrate, and are thus taken into the art. When we are distracted by the action occurring around us [in the film] we just absorb it, not becoming part of it. Today we absorb more than we become a part of something. Do we walk through the museum, taking in the spectacle, but not becoming a part of it? Has distraction itself become a habit?“The public is an examiner, but an absent-minded one.”
If reproduction has become the dominate force in our culture today, are we able to recognize the original? What is the material form of the work of art and its autonomy today?
July 3, 2014
When we are gone, our name remains.
We write names down, on certificates, in books, on gravestones.
We have naming ceremonies.
We wait in anticipation for our name to be called.
Our name identifies us, it defines us.
Names are personal.
Names signify the individual as different from the group.
We are remembered by our name.
If our name is lost, so are we.
This has been one of the hardest articles for me to write about so far. I did enjoy reading it. But I think what makes it so hard to write about is that both of the projects mentioned I have a personal connection to, albeit the connection is personal, but not direct. I remember the era from which both projects come. I remember the discussions, criticisms surround both. And I know names which appear on both. It is hard for me to be critical about the projects because I feel them personally. But I do think both projects as objects of remembrance are very vital to and effective in preserving parts of our late 20th century American culture. And I think they both have achieved their intended purpose: to show the individual, his and her value as an individual, within the context of something so much larger than the individual. They both provide a sense of unity, despite the negative criticism both projects received at their inception. [Can’t please everyone.]
When I was reading this article I thought of another memorial that recently opened in the US and art work that also is meant to preserve the memory of life lost. That work is Spencer Finch’s “Trying To Remember the Color of The Sky on That September Morning” at the National 9/11 Memorial Museum. The piece comprised of 2,983 individual sheets of paper painted with watercolors a different shade of blue is about what is gone, what cannot be remembered. In a way it is like the two other projects in that it is a memorial dedicated to the individuals who were killed that day and in the 1993 bombing, each person represented by a piece of paper. But it is different in the absence of the name. The individual is no longer there. Like the blue sky on that day, something that is so present in my own mind still, it can no longer be accurately remembered, captured. It was here, we remember it, we think, but then again, that is not it, it is gone.
Thinking of the two other pieces in relation to this new memorial has made we wonder, for those of us who know names on the wall and on the quilt they have significance. But one day those of us who know those names will be gone. When this happens the meaning of the individual name will be gone. Yes, the sheer volume of names on both projects will still be overwhelming. But the significance of the individual named will be gone.
Does this make Spencer Finch’s memorial more lasting? More of an artwork than the Vietnam Memorial Wall or the NAMES Project AIDS Quilt? Perhaps. But once the people who know the names on that wall and on that quilt are gone, the objects themselves will remain in their vastness, just like the wall of watercolor paper painted blue. So maybe, eventually, even the name doesn’t matter; just that the existence of the person has been recognized.
July 3, 2014
From: Women and the Material Culture of Needlework and Textiles, 1750- 1950
This essay explores the history, aesthetics, and purpose of Native American quilt making and how it compares to and is different from non-Native American quilt making. Much of the research and quilts cited comes from the exhibit To Honor and Comfort: Native Quilting Traditions [October 1997- early 2001]. This exhibit is relevant as quilt making is the least recognized of Native American art forms resulting from contact with other cultures.
Native Americans sewed ‘quilt-like’ objects prior to their encounter and learning quilt making techniques from European cultures. The differentiation lay in the material and techniques used to sew together blankets and clothing, but the purpose, to clothe, to cover, to honor, to comfort were the same. The shift which occurred was in the materials and techniques, not in the meaning. Patterns and design were also appropriated and influenced by encounters with other cultures, but also garnered from pre-quilt making sewing traditions.
The knowledge of quilt making spread via the mission schools, church based-sewing circles, and government programs. But the knowledge of quilt making was also passed down within the home from grandmother to mother to daughter. As quilt making grew within this private realm so to grew its meaning particular to Native American culture. Excellence in handiwork, craft and beauty of designs, adapted from other forms of Native American artwork, were passed through the generations. The quilts were displayed and passed along through the community. Designs might be particular to one Native American community and not to another, reflecting the origin of the quilt and its maker within a larger quilt show.
In addition to serving as blankets, covers and personal means of expression, quilts also became an income generating source. Within the Native American communities quilts are often created for and given as gifts at naming ceremonies and ceremonies honoring special achievements, weddings and funerals, used in ritual performance as coverings, and at pow wows for practical purposes, such as the collection of money for performers. Quilts are also created as personal forms of expression, both for private use and public display as art objects.
Research and academic recognition of Native American quilt making, as well as quilt making and textile arts of non-Native Americans, did not begin to occur until the 1960s, with great advances in the 1970s and 1980s, in response to rise of the feminist art movement, emphasis on ethnic studies , gender studies, and material cultural studies. However data from these early studies is scarce do to it not being computerized. And access to the objects, the quilts, is also limited do to the fact that they are objects in use and have a limited life span. Their existence as ‘collected art objects’ in museums is rare. However there is a move to study, preserve and present this tradition, exemplified by the exhibit To Honor and Comfort: Native Quilting Traditions.
I found it interesting that the author identified much of the lack of acknowledgement and interest in studying Native American quilt making as stemming from the ethnographic community’s opinion that this is not worth the studying because it is not a “pure” Native American art form. It seems to me most of what culture is stems from the mixing of cultures, therefore why deem something less worthy because one is of the opinion that it is less ‘original’. Probably, when you look hard enough at any object, ritual or tradition you will find it is not ‘original’.
July 3, 2014
In this essay Ms. Stead uses Michael Fried’s essay ‘Art and Objecthood’ [1967] as the basis to discussing ways in which the ways theatricality is expressed in the contemporary museum. This is explored not just in relation to the physical aspects of museum architecture, but also in relation to the museum as an institution and as a collection/repository of objects. Ms. Stead emphasizes contemporary museums are “staged, and theatrical event-spaces”.
One of the first questions asked is if objects [art,artefacts] still necessary to and definitive of the museum today? This question leads to the subsequent questions of what distinguishes art from artefact, and when and where is architecture art? In order to get to the answers of these questions Ms. Stead first declares how the shift in the terms ‘object’ and ‘museum’ require looking at what the ‘object of museum’ is today: its purpose, its contents, its discursive role. Also, what is a museum? It is a physical entity/public institution, an intellectual construct/approach to ordering systems, and a building type/museum architecture.
Much of what a museum did and still does needs to be justified. In its role as an educator a museum was or is seen as offering the chance for bettering oneself, entertainment option for a community, a means of shaping identity, source of tourist revenue, and opportunity for the renewal of urban spaces. Primarily the museums’ past function was that as an archive for objects, today this role is only valuable in the much smaller scope of research it supports. Much of the pedagogical/didactical function of the museum lay in the objects of its collection. But both of these are no longer defined by a large number of physical objects in the digital age.
Traditionally the truth or authenticity of a museum was found in its display of objects which were displayed as ‘truths’. These objects were material evidence which supported the particular world view expressed by the museum. Today the museum, no longer in need of vast amount of objects, finds itself in an ideological crisis. If objects contain truth, and the objects are no longer needed, then where is the truth? What is a museum without objects?
The entertainment status of the museum remains and is strengthened in the age of spectacle. Objects are necessary, but how they are being addressed and explored has changed. Under the influence of the analysis of material culture a more interdisciplinary approach is being taken in the discourse surrounding museum objects/objects of the museum. There is now differentiation in analyzing the relationships between objects and viewers both inside and outside the museum. How much, or do, objects speak to us? But the authentic object has been replaced by the authentic experience (replica). The philosophical base of the museum today asks is it about the material or the conceptual? Are the objects of museums real things or ideas? And Ms. Stead states, objects don’t speak, if we think they do, it’s a lie.
Art does not have a clearly defined ‘object’ character, artefacts do. Artefacts can be replaced by replicas, art cannot. According to Ms. Stead this differentiation between what is art and what is artefact is what makes Fried’s essay still relevant today. Fried not a fan of minimalism, much preferring the formal values he found to be inherent in “high” modern art. By this it is understood the “high” modern art work is not an object because it does not necessitate the interaction of humans to complete it. Its aesthetic strategies are contained within itself.
This is not the case for the minimalist “object”. Minimalism through the “theatrical” turn it introduced to art for Fried caused too much blurring of disciplinary boundaries. Minimalism requires the interaction of something [person or the space] outside itself. It gains its meaning as art through the reflection back to it as art. Minimalism is relational. “High” modern art is not.
So does this mean that art is in becoming an object is also not an object because the boundary to performance has been blurred? This is a little unclear.
The theatrical has now become a part of the museum in all of its forms. Fried saw this as degeneration, because art could no longer be recognized by its conventional definitions- there were too many methods and media now available, mixing freely with each other. Therefore he saw the role of the museum [architecture?] as that more vital to holding the chaos inside, containing it within its walls.
Here Ms. Stead ties the definition of an artwork by Adorno into Fried’s ideas. Whereas Fried separated art from artefact, Adorno did not. Adorno identified art as art and artefact, an object of culture. For Adorno the connection between art and artefact lay in the material, their distinction lay in form. For museum architecture today this is relevant as it is both a museum object and the museum object. The space the museum creates, the space which dictates how how the objects are interacted with and given meaning within the walls is the material. The form of the museum dictates how exhibits are installed.
What separates architecture from art? Architecture is both a tangible thing and an abstract idea. Its status as a ‘thing’, an object, is what makes its existence as ‘art’ complicated. Architecture is utilitarian. For Fried when museum architecture existed as a neutral “white cube” it did not complicate this relationship to the art, because it did not interact with it. This lack of interaction within the “white cube” allowed for the suspension of the art’s “objecthood”. But in a space that is ‘charged’, a space that interacts with the piece, like required by minimalism, the objecthood is reinforced. The space of the building frames the object.There are two approaches to picture framing, a neutral frame which protects the piece (it’s job) but recedes, letting the work be noticed. Or an ornate frame that compliments the work by its overt interaction with the piece, while at the same time inviting the viewer to look at it too and declare it an art object. Museums architecture today is like that ornate frame, they want to be noticed, seen as art.
July 3, 2014
What is material culture? It is the expression of a culture through what it makes, manipulates or produces [objects]. The study of material culture is the study of these objects. The objects tell us what is important to a particular culture, what it believes, values, thinks, acts, and assumes. What a culture makes reflects what the culture is. Remember, the meaning of an object lies in its interaction with people. People give meaning to objects, the meanings they give reflect back upon themselves.
The objects of a culture can be art or artifacts. Art tends to be defined as objects whose main and original purpose is not in its utilitarian function, but in a symbolic, memorial,contemplative function, valued for an aesthetic experience which the object generates a reaction in the viewers thoughts or behaviors. Art is not separately defined as such in many cultures. [Example of Hmong pa ndau were not seen as art, but per Mr. Prown’s definition they were, even before the shift to current status, art.] Artifacts, utilitarian objects, can be art. For some, Mr. Prown included, they are best viewed as the same thing. And artifacts to Mr. Prown are “historical events”.
A history is something that happened in the past, and artifacts are objects that are evidence of that event. The event itself is over, but through the object we are reminded and able to ‘re-experience’ the event. But events don’t just ‘happen’, they have causes. Mr. Prown identifies three main causes: 1. craft, or the tradition of producing the object, 2. culture, or the object being a product of its time, and 3. privacy, the object reflects the person who made it. The beliefs encompassed in these three causes are visible on the objects surface. The surface shows what a culture wants us to know about. it. But when we analyze a culture we want to go beyond the beliefs shown on the objects surface in order to understand the beliefs held at its core. These are the unconscious, secretive beliefs and assumptions a culture has which they do not want to really share with us. If on the surface the ‘truth’ as a culture wants us to know it to be is displayed (and it really might not be true at all, but just what is desired to be true) then what is deeper, in the ‘mind’ of the object, is where we will find the real ‘truth’, that which is really there but the culture doesn’t want to admit is there.
Mr. Prown uses the example of the effectiveness of connoisseurship as a tool which allows for quick differentiation of the truth in an object by analyzing its existence in reverse. Looking at the surface and working backwards to its creation to find if what leads to the truth at the core. [Is it real, or just a replica?] At the core the we will find the ‘dreams’ of the culture, what they believe in and want to be true. It is the function of art to communicate, be it truth or lies, the communication is intentional. The difference between art and artifact is that artifacts never lie. Art lies. “Of all lies, art is the least untrue.” said Flaubert. Through the lies art tells, the truth about the culture/person who created it is revealed. Artifacts have a function which is reflected in their form. Both are a part of material culture and must be analyzed as such.
Mr. Prown advocates analyzing artifacts, utilitarian objects, in the same manner one would analyze art. Look for the metaphor contained in the object both structurally and textually. Cultural truths are expressed metaphorically. By analyzing artifacts as “fictions” [lies, or untruths] questions will arise out of the artifact. Remember, art asks questions. These questions originate with the artifact and are not imposed on the artifact by the person analyzing it.
How does change [traumatic] express itself in the object a culture produces? Mr. Prown uses the example of card tables produced just before and just after the American Revolution. I think back to the example of the Hmong pa ndau. In both questions the form of the object was altered to reflect the new situation of the culture which produced it. Both retain traces of their purpose prior to the change, but their physical form has been altered.
How do we bridge the gap between the culture we occupy and the culture the object occupied? Mr. Prown suggest that we establish the broadest possible base of commonality. We step outside of ourselves, ignore the questions coming out of the mind’, place our focus on the sensory experience of the object. What do we see, hear, feel when we touch an object? What is its physical form? We need to put ourselves into the body of the producer of the object, to experience the tactile experience he or she felt when producing the object. How and why the object was formed or manipulated are questions which will follow.
July 3, 2014
Chapter One: People and Things
People make and use objects, and objects make and use people. It is a reciprocal relationship between people and things. It is necessary to understand this relationship in order to understand who we are and where we are going. Why are certain objects valued more than other objects? And why has the relationship between people and objects not been studied as much as the relationship between people has? We do not have very much academic understanding of what and why things have meaning for people.
What is a person? A complex being. Physically, mentally and emotionally complex. This makes defining what a person is by a single characteristic difficult. However the authors have chosen to emphasize what a person is by one thing: a person is aware of his or her own existence, and because of this self awareness he or she can assume control of that existence and direct it to certain purposes. If we recognize something we want, we give it our attention [psychic energy] so we can get it. The ability to direct our focus to things we desire both consciously and perhaps unconsciously is what gives our lives order. Otherwise it [we] would end in pure chaos, distracted and unable to accomplish anything because of lack of focus. Personally, I think this is something that develops as we mature. I don’t believe we are born with a fully developed ability to focus. We have the ability to learn to direct our attention to something in order to achieve goals, fulfill needs and desires; but we must develop the ability. Perhaps a large part of developing this ability is done through our interaction with objects. An example would be how children become mobile. Playing with a toy that fascinates them they are then motivated to posses the toy. If it is out of their reach, they must find a way to get to it. So they reach, stretch, roll, scoot, crawl or walk until they get that toy in their hands
When two or more people share interest in or direct their attention to something, a predictable pattern of interaction forms which is known as a social system. This is not a development resulting from chance, but from the predictability shared interests will cause the relationship to form. The stronger the shared interests, the stronger the relationship. Between two persons this is known as a dyad. But if the interest of one dwindles so that is less than that of the other the structure is threatened to dissolve. The levels must remain intact for the relationship to remain intact. Because the relationship structure’s existence is dependent upon the attention put into it is possible for only a certain number of relationships to be maintained at a given time. We only have so much energy we can put into our relationships, therefore we can only form and maintain as many as we can support. This is variable among individuals.
The process by which people form these social systems is called socialization. This is when new relationships form based on similar, if not completely shared goals. As the relationship develops and the similar goals become equally shared goals socialization occurs. Children are socialized in the parent-child relationship as they grow from baby to adult; but the goals brought into the parent-child relationship might be changed by either party [with the other party’s commitment to that change] as understanding of what an effective and meaningful goal in the relationship is grows. This openness to change is a key part of socialization. Self-growth occurs through the positive feedback we receive within the structures of these relationships.
If the goals are not shared, and the feedback is not positive, our attention wanes, or is ‘faked’. The relationships and our own self awareness suffers. If we don’t like, find fulfillment in our jobs or relationships we experience a decline in mental health due to our inability to focus our attention on our goals, needs, or desires.
Optimally we exist in a state where we are able to freely choose and follow our goals, developing healthy social systems which help us meet these goals, without inner or outer conflict. Our fulfillment or lack there of should not be at the cost of our self or at the cost of the other [being a person, place, or thing]. This occurs when we find our ‘place’ in the order of things, develop mutually supportive relationships. Often our relationships to things are not mutually supportive. Within these relationships it is often that one party begins to dominate the other, and it is often not the person who dominates in relationships between people and things according to the authors. All relationships need to be “cultivated” to retain their balance, whether or not they are between people or between people and things.
What are things? A thing is anything with a consciously recognizable identity. A thing can be represented, it posses “objectivity”, which means it can be recognized as having similar meaning by various people, therefore different people will have similar responses to the same ‘thing’. The meaning of a ‘thing’ can be shaped and formed by human interaction, but they need not be “man-made”, naturally occurring objects can also be shaped and formed by human interaction.
The things we choose to interact with, to live with, reflect and form who we are. Similar people are attracted to similar things. People who share similar goals, attention, history, cultural, ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds tend to be attracted to similar things: food, clothing, decorations, etc. Our attraction to these things in turn attracts us to ourselves and others who are like us. However when these objects, these things, are separated from us they become neutral. The interaction between person and thing is necessary to develop the meaning of both. Object neutrality is this lack of meaning of the object outside its relationships to others [people]. And for many people, when they lack the objects by which they define themselves they become ‘neutral’, having lost identity and self awareness.
I find this a very accurate assessment of our relationships to both other people and the objects we posses. Looking at human growth and development it is easy to see these social systems forming, especially among children and teeneagers, but also in adults. Looking at a 12 year old who is trying to “find” his self-identity, he often looks to objects, objects others his age might posses, objects he poses, to define who he is. When he realizes that the object really does not give him the self awareness he is seeking, he might become angry at the object [when the anger is really meant to be self directed] or he might seek it even further within the object, developing a dependence upon it. One of the key aspects of parenting is trying to educate and make children aware of these relationship structures- not just the person-person, but also the person-thing relationship. At the same time as our society becomes more and more defined and dominated by what we make and posses, we need to be aware ourselves of how we are being dominated by these objects. They say that children learn by observing what their parents do, not by what they say. How do we show our children a healthy relationship between people and things?
July 3, 2014
The city [and world] is not defined by the idealized plans of designers. When viewed at a great distance, from above, what is below might bear resemblance to the grid one finds on a map, but at street level the city takes on its own form and function, differing from the expectations placed on it by its planners.
According to Mr. de Certeau walking, getting down to the street level, destroys this order because the walker is not obliged to stay on the path created for him or her. He or she chooses his own paths when walking, meandering, dreaming, responding to what it there. Today walking is no longer a primary, necessary mode of transportation. We do not rely on our feet to get us where we need to go, we are committed to follow the paths set out for us by the planners: the roads, train tracks, bus and subway routes. Walking is not a necessity, it is a luxury. It is something that occurs in the “in between spaces” the gaps of everyday life. To walk is to rebel against those paths and pans which have been so carefully laid out for us.
When we walk we can see the city not as the whole the planners intended it to be, but the collection of individual parts which create that whole. From a distance the individual is lost, just a speck on the grid. Up close the individual is personal, the space is activated by the personal. Our knowledge of what the city is grows more profound. We become a part of the city when we get down into it.
From a distance the plan placed upon the city to give it structure is a means to control the chaos which naturally arises from it. The city is formed naturally, but the “city” itself is a constructed space, flattened out, formed to fit into the structure allotted it. The “city” can now be controlled, administered. Space is no longer a free flowing area. All the functions necessary for the “city” to function are contained within defined spaces. But the “city” cannot be confined by the applied structures. It will break free of the constructs to form new spaces by means of those who walk through it, creating and traveling different paths as they go.
As walkers create new paths, others follow in their footsteps, reinforcing the new roads traveled. Organic growth along these paths occur. A new order is created within the “city”, it is the order of the city. New terms and names are found for the new paths and spaces, but the old paths still remain. Their value has changed. Walking leads to a shift, a change, in what was. Meaning remains, but it is found in a different context. The fragments of what was are gathered, reformed and reapplied. New structures are created to give order to the chaos, and the process begins again.
What is the equivalent of walking within the framework of a painting?
July 3, 2014
Chapter Eight from Material cultures: Why some things matter
Coca-Cola, from Trinidad? Yes, the quintessential American soft drink is Trinidadian. At major supermarkets across the Northeastern United States you will find Coca-Cola not just in the soft drinks aisle, but also on various shelves throughout the “international” foods aisle. How can a product which supposedly is bottled using the same syrup-base, under the same quality control standards set forth by the parent company, taste that different that instead of ‘brand loyalty’ one needs to talk about ‘distributor company’ loyalty? Does a Coca-Cola mixed and bottled in the Midwestern USA taste that much different than one bottled somewhere in Asia, or somewhere in Europe, or in Trinidad? Most likely not. But still there is loyalty to the product which reminds us of ‘home’.
Coca-Cola is a global brand which operates and produces its product under local franchising agreements. Mr. Miller identifies Coca-Cola as a meta-symbol, or more specifically a meta-commodity. As a meta-commodity Coca-Cola has achieved the status of a global product whose international brand is so big it is beyond a simple international commodity, it is a commodity representing the debate of the materiality of culture today. This debate is focused on the relationship between the local and the global.
The corporate strategy of Coca-Cola is identified as “global localization”. It is about customizing the brand image to a particular market; translating the idea of what the product is to the history and culture. This is what the brand Coca-Cola’s success is built upon according to Mr. Miller, but that does not mean this was by any means intentional. Mr. Miller uses the company’s experience with the marketing failure of “new Coke” as an example of their unawareness of the effects their actions might have. Second, Mr. Miller cites the original structuring of the company as a system of franchising as being more likely the reason for their success in “global localization”. Under the system of franchising the control placed upon the distributor are limited to product quality control (does the mixture meet the standard of what Coca-Cola is) and how the company logo is used. Otherwise the local distributors have the freedom to operate, price, and promote the product however they choose.
The relationship between Trinidad and Coca-Cola is traced back to about the same time the US leased military bases on the island from the British colonial government. Money from the US military presence, the jobs and relationships created by it, flowed into Trinidad’s economy, along with other aspects of American culture, both positive and negative. Around the same time the Americans exported Trinidadian calypso song “Rum and Coca-Cola” back to the USA where it became a hit song for the Andrews’ Sisters. This reinforced the status of the mixed drink in Trinidad to this day according to Mr. Miller.
The local distributor of Coca-Cola in Trinidad has roots in the country pre-dating their contract with Coca-Cola by a good 37 years. Despite mergers and acquisitions the idea in the mind of the Trinidadian community is that Coca-Cola bottled and sold in Trinidad is done so by a local, Trinidadian company. Although the only obligation the local bottler has to Coca-Cola’s Atlanta base is the purchase of the syrup, in Trinidad as elsewhere, Atlanta offers monetary incentives in the form of discounts for participation in advertising and marketing campaigns. For this reason most of the marketing and advertising for Coca-Cola in Trinidad originates with the agency responsible for Coca-Cola’s global advertising. Mr. Miller identifies the importance of this as being in how Coca-Cola is identified as “white” by the Trinidadians, although this is not a dominant population in Trinidad.
Trinidad is divided among different ethnic groups, with a pretty even split among people of African and people of South Asian ethnic groups (40 percent each). The soda one chooses to drink reflects upon the group to which one might belong or see oneself as belonging to, and thus the distributors of the various soft drink products tailor their marketing, product development, and distribution to meet these ideas of “who” consumes “what”. While general business operating methods can and are applied by companies worldwide, Mr. Miller cites the knowledge of the local market, the knowledge of what the local consumer understands about the products and businesses in that market, personal relationships, politics and history as key to a business’ success. Because of the range of possibilities which need to be taken into account Mr. Miller states that the local Coca-Cola distributors are often torn between following the “American” or the “Trinidadian” identity of their company and its product.
Beyond the corporate identity of the product Mr. Miller addresses the cultural identity of the product, in this case “sweet drinks” in general. In Trinidad they are not seen as luxury items, or special treats, but necessities, the drink of the “common man”. [As they are today in many parts of the US, especially among lower socioeconomic groups.] The products’ status as such was politically reinforced via the price controls placed on the distributors by the state. In addition there is the role the “sweet drinks” play as status symbols outside the home. One would not NOT order one when eating or drinking in public. And then their is their role as a mixer. In summation, “sweet drinks” play a vital part in the Trinidadian cultural identity. But just as the ethnic makeup of Trinidad is pretty evenly split between African and South Asian, so is the choice among types of “sweet drinks”- “red” for the South Asians and “black”[cola] for the Africans, and here Trinidadian ethnic identity gets very complex. Whereas it was mentioned that “Coca-Cola” was viewed as a “white” drink, this “black” sweet drink is viewed as drunk by African Trinidadians who are viewed by the South Asian Indian Trinidadians as being a “white oriented people”, which the African Trinidadians reflect back on the South Asian Indian Trinidadians. Your are what you drink! So the soft drink distributors in attempts to expand their product market gears its advertising and marketing to pick up customers in the other ethnic groups.
It is up to the distributors to respond to the complexity of the market, and it is not an easy or predictable thing to do. The markets in which products are produced, distributed and consumed are not a monoculture. They are complex and often contradicting across these three areas. Because of this the possibility of failure is ever present. Production and consumption need to be addressed separately as well as in relation to each other (relativism). What is true for one group in one location may not be true for a similar group in a different location. Mr. Miller used the example of Coca-Cola in order to confront the dangers of this product as a meta-symbol, to disprove the academic notion of it as representative of global homogenization, instead emphasizing how it objectifies globality through localization. Despite the contradiction in the term, globality is a locally relative concept for Mr. Miller. Just because something is identified as a global symbol, does not speak for the globality of that symbol. In fact identifying it as such, a meta-symbol, can in turn minder the value it has symbolically.
So, what does this mean for objects in general and how they are identified and applied on a global scale? It seems without knowledge of the local context, history, relations and value of the object one can say little of its true meaning within any given culture. Coca-Cola, from Trinidad? Indubitably!
July 3, 2014
The first question this text led me to was ignited by the quote from Hans Ulrich Oberst at the beginning defining the 21st century curator as catalyst. I don’t feel this is something that is limited to the 21st century curator. Even if the curators of previous centuries did not identify or acknowledge their role as catalyst, the act of curating any event [collection, exhibition, performance] places the the curator in that role. Second question that followed for me is regarding the role of the artist as catalyst, and the relation of the artist to curator in both of their roles as catalysts. Where can the line be drawn between the two, and should a line be drawn? Is curating an art form? Is the curator also an artist? And is the artist also a curator?
Looking at the concept of the Biennale and other group exhibits/events of a similar nature I am drawn to the question of these events as art forms in and of themselves. The nature of their limited existence in time and space places them more within the realm of performance than of a museum collection. Therefore it seems to me that the curators of these temporary ‘happenings’ are creating works of art, performances, which speaks to their role as artist. The context and material the curator chooses to work with remain his or her choice.
Just like the painter or sculptor who chooses one material over the other to create the art by which he or she wishes to convey a particular meaning, shouldn’t the curator have the right to do this to? Do we criticize the painter for choosing acrylic over oil, the sculptor for choosing steel over stone? Then why should we criticize the curator for choosing one artist over the other, one location over another, one art form over another? Does this mean that we can’t criticize the art world in general for not opening its doors to artists of a certain color, gender, sexuality, nationality, economic class, etc.? Or does it mean we simply must be aware of tendencies to not acknowledge those outside the status quo and support the development of curatorial projects which address many different themes, locales, politics, artists and socio-economic groups? In a [art] world where ‘free market’ values are the rule, how should and do we accommodate the freedom of the curator to choose?
How do we answer the questions raised by the Ghetto Biennale? Can we even answer them? Is it simply a matter of pulling the artist of the Grand Rue out of their situation and placing them in a new, the First World, context? Or is a larger, more political act needed, creating greater legal and economic accommodations for Third World artist in First World countries? If these are the answers, do we then assume that all Third World artists should be addressed equally, or do we give priority to some of others (based on gender, sexuality, political views, economic situations, etc.)? Or is it better to empower these artist in situ? If so, how? Is it only possible by bringing the First World to the Third World? And if so, how does this risk a deterioration of the local art world at the hands of cultural tourism? If the First World and Third World collide too often will it lead to the destruction of one, the destruction of both, or the creation of a new world?
The Ghetto Biennale as described here sounds as if it were a very idealistic event, not without its difficulties, but none the less, it accomplished what it set out to do: see what would happen when these two worlds collide. The inhabitants of both worlds benefited from the collision, learning from each other, asking questions, opening up and creating space for new questions to form. The First World left with a better understanding of the issues faced in the Third World, we hope. But what was the Third World left with? Was their situation radically changed by the Ghetto Biennale? And if it seemed like the possibility for radical change was there, was this possibility destroyed by the subsequent earthquake? The article ends with the statement that three of the artist of Grand Rue featured in the Ghetto Biennale continued to make art after the earthquake. Five years later how have they and their art been changed by the Ghetto Biennale? And what about the artist from the First World, how has their art changed five years after? Would any of these changes occurred without the Ghetto Biennale? And finally, is the curatorial point of exhibitions/events/performances/happenings such as this to ignite change at the personal level of the participating artists, at the level of the international First World art world’s collectors, or at the level of the global politics?
July 3, 2014
What can or cannot a museum “do”? If performance is both the “doing” and the “thinking about doing” is every display, due to the nature of the thoughts from which it originates, a performance?
What if the intentions or thoughts behind the display are not understood as intended? What does that do to the performance, the exhibition, the museum?
One thing that stood out to me from both of these articles is how the curators interviewed seemed to have had in mind the idea of what is American Judaism, yet the idea was no longer in situ, it had been placed in a different context with a pretty intense history, so that it no longer became a question of “what is [American] Judaism? or even “What is Judaism?”; the question being asked was “What is Judaism to the 21st century German?”.
From the description of the exhibition in both these articles I gather it was a pretty strong, pretty effective performance. It asked a lot of questions, provided few answers and encouraged the engagement of the spectators to ask more questions. I get the feeling the people who went to the exhibition did not leave it feeling “justified” [German: bestätigt] in their knowledge or beliefs, but rather left with a lot more questions, and the openness to begin asking them out loud.
Much of the criticism of the exhibition that was raised according to both articles seemed to come from the Jewish community (both inside, but predominantly outside Germany) itself. Often the people who were the loudest critics did not participate in the performance [visit the exhibit]. Instead the people who volunteered to sit in the box, were the ones who praised the exhibit the most. For them, this experience is their experience as a Jew living in 21st century Germany. For me this reinforces the notion that to understand the performance one must be open to participating in it. This does not mean that one must choose to sit in a plexiglass box, or even visit and view it. The act of consciously not participating becomes participation in the performance. Therefore part of this performance at the Jewish Museum Berlin was the criticism it received from persons throughout the world. The idea, although originating within a small segment of a larger group, and removed and placed in an even smaller context within the larger group was an invitation to the world to join in the performance. To look at what the question of Jewish identity is globally today, confront and questions the notions of Jewish identity in the past, and begin to construct the questions of Jewish identity going forward.
How can questions be asked so that they engage the global community? What is the relevance to the questions scale in attracting this level of participation? Could similar questions be asked relating to other groups and their history within a given culture to the same effect?
July 3, 2014
Pa ndau refers to the textile art of the Hmong peoples. Prior to their experience as refugees beginning in the late 1970s following the end of the wars in Vietnam and Laos, these textiles were not viewed as ‘art’ and did not contain representational or story telling motives. These textiles were brightly embroidered and stitched clothes which were applied to the clothing worn as part of rituals and celebrations. They contained symbolic meaning in a more shamanistic sense, offering protection to the person wearing the clothes, helping to direct the spirits to a desired outcome. They were brightly colored, hand made and worn by the maker. They were not commodities to be sold, they were not objects to be hung on a wall. They were part of a performance, but the performance was different from the one in which they would become part of after the cultural shift which occurred as they became refugees.
This shift from a semi-nomadic, agrarian people to inhabitants [prisoners] in refugee camps initiated a shift in the Pa nadau both stylistically, objectively and performatively. Traditionally the cloths were only produced by women, but once inside the refugee camps with little or no jobs, farming possibilities or access to income beyond the small support offered by the relief organizations the Hmong men too began producing the cloths. The cloths were no longer kept within the family [by the women] who produced them, they became supplemental income sources for the people; providing a source of income from their sale which allowed the Hmong to preserve the cultural rituals and celebrations they would otherwise be unable to afford. The cloths became a commodity, sold at the camps directly by the producers, sold by their relatives who had made it out of the camps to other countries (Europe, USA, Australia) with the money sent back to the camps to finance the families rituals and/or freedom from the camps, or sold directly by the relief organizations to further finance the support they offered the refugees.
With the commodification of the cloths the aesthetics of the cloths colors and designs shifted to meet the demands of the market. Colors were no longer chosen for their symbolic value to the producer who would adorn herself with the cloths as part of a ritual, but they were now chosen to be aesthetically pleasing when hung on the wall in a Westerner’s home. The designs, once floral and abstract geometric designs too shifted. The purpose was no longer to display the handicraft, power or desirability of the producer, now the design was meant to convey the story of the Hmong culture, their history, their rituals, and their recent traumatic experience. This shift to story telling was a means of preserving their culture in light of the recent near destruction it had faced. The cloths were no longer part of the performance of a ritual, they were now a performance in themselves: they told a story.
In their prior incarnation as adornment to clothing, pa ndau were in a sense ‘costumes’ in which the performer cloaked her or himself while performing the ritual. In their current incarnation the pa ndau still serve as a cloak, a costume, an object for the performer. But now they are not serving as adornment, offering ritual protections and appeals to the spirits; they are serving as objects which enable the storyteller to tell the story of her people. The cloths, in telling the story, clothes the story.
The part of this text I found most interesting, beyond even how a craft form transition to an art form, was the difference revealed in the approach to display and presentation of the clothes from the Western European standards to the Hmong ideal. The act of displaying or presenting an art work within the Western European tradition currently tends to be more about the personal interaction of the individual and the object. The object is usually encountered in the singular, with space, physical and mental, given to each object displayed so that it can be encountered in its singularity. On the other hand the Hmong working with the Western European curators approached the installation and display of the objects relative to its/their role(s) within the larger group, a concept reflecting the values of their culture. While both approaches are means of performance, the Hmong approach emphasized the performance as only happening (and continuing to happen) within the context of the group. For the Western European curators the performance happened even when the group was not there, the presence of the storyteller was not necessary because the object was responsible for telling the story. For the Hmong, the clothes did not perform without the storyteller, they were only a part of, an object or prop within the story. The group, storytellers, dancers, food, viewers/participants were necessary to complete the performance. The performance for them was still linked to the ritual. I find this interesting that despite the drastic changes in the pa ndau, aesthetically and objectively, and what seemed like performatively, they still retained the link to their original purpose as objects which played a part in the performance ritual. Yes, they had taken on new meanings through these shifts, but they also retained traces of their previous performances.
One thing I have been thinking about and struggling with a lot lately is how the presentation of my paintings can and should change in order to add to the meaning of them within the performance. What shifts must they undergo to take on new meanings yet still retain the traces of the old?
July 3, 2014
From: The Object Reader, 2009
Lube as a metaphor for what we need to lubricate our minds, allowing us to open ourselves up to the possibilities of sensations, thoughts, ideas, enabling us to go further into the academic realm.
Lubrication is not clean and neat, it can be messy, artificial or produced naturally or with ‘natural ingredients’. What society tells us is an effective lubricant for one, might be repackaged and re-marketed to another. One person’s lubricant might not work for another. There are lots of different options out there, waiting for us to try out and discover which works best for us. Whichever lube we choose, someone will profit. So, who do we want to profit from our personal lubrication?
An effective lubricant serves a purpose of making it easier to get where we want to go. Where we want to go might not be where society thinks we should go. We might not even know that we really wanted to go there, but once we lube ourselves up we can go to places outside of the ‘norm’. When we lubricate we do so not just for ourselves, but to make things better for others too, so we need to be sure to have enough lube on hand for everyone.
Lubricant shifts our focus from “it’s just about me” to “it’s about more than just me, it is about us”. The place I want to go, and to which an effective lubrication will help get me to, it is a place of shared pleasure and discovery, offering us more choices and routes to get there.
And what about all these choices we now have in finding the right lubricant that works for us? What once was taboo is now out there, free for all to grab from the shelf in the supermarket of life. Are all these choices really free? Has profit replaced sensation as the real value of lubrication? Can we, must we, and do we, play along with the ‘intended’ use of lubrication, applying it to other ‘unintended’ areas in private, just so we too can experience the sensations we want, we need, it to offer us?
What are yours, mine, and our lubricants?
July 3, 2014
What is performance?
What role does performance play in our culture?
What is the protective role of performance within our culture [today]?
How is [this] text performance?
Upfront I must say that the construct, the example of performance, buying condoms/buoying condoms, which Mr. Alexander used in this article/performance I found a bit problematic. My issues with the construct are not because of the issues of sexuality raised by the subject matter, an assumption people might make given the analogies the author used. Rather I find the performance itself to be today, 12-14 years after it was performed/presented/published to be ‘dated’, no longer as effective of a performance as it might have been in 2002. I think a number of the thoughts, feelings, and experiences Mr. Alexander brings up with the performance have been altered due to shifts in our cultural perceptions regarding the objects, condoms and our sexuality. Personally, being now myself ‘middle aged’, I can say the performance(s) Mr. Alexander presented were in their time very truthful. I can understand and identify with them because I lived and experienced that time as a young adult. But I am not so sure the performance would be as effective in the expression of the same feelings to a teenager or someone in their 20s or 30s. However, that said, I do believe the concepts of performance, the role it plays in our culture, and the protective nature of performance at the articles core are not ‘dated’.
So, does this mean a ‘dated’ performance hinders the impact of what it contains? To a degree, yes, and also no, it should not. But it does. So how do we look at and participate in a ‘dated’ performance? What additional questions are generated by it? Does this mean it can no longer be understood within the boundaries of its original meanings?
First, lets look at what Mr. Alexander states is the role of performance in our culture. Performance occurs where the private, the public and the pedagogical meet. It is a dual nature- the revelation of private thoughts, feelings, experiences within the communal setting. It is meant to build trust between the performer and the observer, establish shared emotions between them, and offer a structure by which the observer can reflect upon and appraise his or herself within a cultural context [Bell 1995]. Performance is at once doing something and thinking about doing something.
Performance is time and space dependent. Unlike other art forms a performance can only happen at the moment it is performed. A ‘repeat’ performance is not the same performance, performed again, because each performance is unique. A performance which has been captured in the moment it is performed, and then replayed, is no longer performance. Therefore film and video are not in themselves performance, the moment of the recording was the performance, and a new performance happens when the film or video is experienced by an observer, but it is not the same performance as the first. Each time the film or video, or text, or music composition, or sculpture, or painting, or installation, or play, etc. is observed, whether for the first time or already multiple times by the viewer, the performance is new. How is this with the bowl of condoms? Each time the participant walks past the bowl, a new performance happens, a new decision on how to re-act is made by the participant. And buying condoms, again each purchase creates a new performance. We much take in and participate in each performance as it happens, because once it happens it is gone. But traces of the performance are left in us and with us. Meaning is built through these traces, and it is the meaning of the performance which transforms.
Each performance teaches us something new about ourselves and our culture. One cashier’s reaction to the purchase of a box of condoms at one moment will vary from another cashier’s reaction at another moment. And each time so will our reactions vary, and each time we will gain further insight into ourselves, our own, and society’s views on sexuality.
But what happens when the cashier is no longer there? What about the choice to go through the “self checkout” lane? Does this lessen the performance, or is it simply a new level of meaning added, a new understanding in the shift in cultural accommodations of sexuality?
And the bowl of condoms? Mr. Alexander has placed it in a time and place where its meaning was reinforced by society’s views on condom use, homosexuality and the spread of AIDS within a single community. Where can that bowl be found today? In Mr. Alexander’s construct it was to be found in gay bars. But what if one were to encounter it on a table next to the front door of a divorced, post-menopausal woman’s house? What if the woman was to hold out the bowl offering her dinner guests a condom as they leave? How do these shifts in context affect the meaning of the performance?
What is the protective role of performance? The nature of performance as being simultaneously intimate and communal creates the necessity of protection, a barrier between the self and the other. Performance is never a singular experience, it is a joint endeavor. The needs of all participants, the performer and the viewer/observer/spect-actor need to be met. The “fourth wall”, imaginary yet real, offers us protection by making us believe in the experience by making the experience. The sensations of the experience are present, but the risks associated with the experience of the sensations is not.
Performance is asking questions, of ourselves and of culture. Through the invention of new realities we create the possibilities for transformation of existing realities through social action. The performer is the agent of change, but the viewer also has the choice to become an agent of that change through his or her involvement. By taking a condom out of the bowl as one exists the bar one is making a public statement regarding a private matter. One is performing a choice of social action for all [around] to see. And what is the choice one is making when taking a condom out of the bowl offered by the postmenopausal divorcee? Is it the same choice? Yes, despite the shift in context the action reflects the same choice. What about which check out line one uses to purchase condoms? Is the choice to avoid the cashier equivalent to begging a condom off a friend or stealing one from dad’s drawer? What control do we have in our role as participants in a performance?
Finally, how is this text performance. In the beginning Mr. Alexander states that all performance is confessional. This “aesthetic article” is for him a performance by its nature of being a script for further performance. By raising questions to the role of performance and its nature as a protective barrier in the transformation of culture this text is being performed. So again I ask, does the constructs of the performances cited in this article, their ‘dated’ qualities lessen the impact of the performance? Yes, in so far as this ‘datedness’ could stand in the way of full participation in the performance by the observer, who might ask “why should I pick up one of these free condoms when my mom just gave me a super-size box of my favorite brand, “extra sensitive” she just picked up for me at the local wholesale club?”. No, it should not impact the performance if the observer can recognize that a shift has occurred, “how did it feel to walk into a store 20 years ago and buy a box of condoms?”. If the observer is open to participating in the performance, the needs of both will be met, despite any barriers which may be present.
July 3, 2014
published online March 11, 2010 in
Performance Research: A Journal of the Performing Arts
The object is a pencil.
The object as tool.
The object is the self,
possessing possibilities.
The object changes.
The object is a drawing.
The object is what is being drawn.
The object metamorphosing.
The object is the subject.
The subject is object,
a matter of experience, intuition, and luck.
The object in harmony and
or dissonance from its environment.
The object as fecundity of matter.
Ambitious, forming, achieving, and illuminating.
The object is a neutral translation,
and an independent object.
The object is replica.
The object is epiphanies.
The object is ambiguity.
The object transcribes
mutinous objects both vast and minute.
The object reduces, multiplies, and scatters.
The object is diaspora.
Constantly evolving the object
with energizing spirits,
in relationship to other objects.
The object can be tedious.
The object describes,
tells a story taking place so far away,
and yet so near.
The object overcome by imagination,
intimate and integrating.
A back and forth see-saw
is the fleeting equilibrium of the object.
Topped off by the sensuousness,
smoothed out, blended, corrected and
erased.
The object lives on.
The object is continuous, an experience, and intuitive.
Fixed, protected, contained by the structure of a frame,
is the object.
This essay describing the creation of a drawing, objectifying this creation, the act of creating and the material objects with which the drawing is created was written in such a beautiful, prosaic manner that I found myself taking notes about what the author was saying about the object[s] in a simple, straightforward style. I began to hear what I was writing as a reading, a poetic reading of sorts. And so I attempted to put these notes over the idea of what the object is and does into a slightly poetic form as well. Again, I heard, as I read this piece the story being told. I saw the creation of the drawing being performed. I wonder in what ways when I paint is the act of painting for me like a performance? How are the objects I am creating, the tools I am using to create with and the subjects I am addressing a part of this performance?
July 3, 2014
From Evocative Objects: Things that we think with.
Keyboards, they are more than a single type of object. There are keyboards upon which one can perform and compose music [piano, organ, synthesizer, harpsichord, glockenspiel]. There are keyboards upon which one can write [typewriter, computer, smartphone, tablet, stenotype machine]. Both can be used creatively and practically and require a developed sense of feeling for the layout of the keys. And both are not the only tools/instruments available to achieve the same ends to the means one may apply to them. Other instruments are available to perform and compose music on; one can always pick up a pencil or pen and a piece of paper and begin writing. But both of them speak to Mr. Gardner. Why? What is it in the keyboard [both piano and typewriter/computer] which ‘speak’ to Mr. Gardner?
History. Mr. Gardner speaks of the long personal history he has to both instruments. His relationship to the keyboards precedes most other relationships he has in his life at the point he is writing this essay. This long relationship attributes to a wide range of emotional associations, feelings, and meaning. They speak to his personal values. They remind him of his family, his life. They are a part of what makes life enjoyable for him. They are the tools he uses to understand the music and the writing, for the music and writing matter more to him than the tools. But without the tools his understanding and expression would not be there.
The idea of the need for tools in order to comprehend as mentioned in this essay reminded me a lot about a recent study on the physical act of writing, note taking, handwriting as a skill/subject/tool in the learning process. The point of the study was that humans [kids] learn more if they can write things out. In American schools today little emphasis is placed on handwriting, and this study points to this as a problem in how and what children are able to retain in the subjects taught them. I know from my own personal experience that the act of writing, long hand and on a keyboard, is a vital part of my ability to think through and comprehend a thought or idea. Some people speak aloud, need to hear in order to comprehend. Others need to touch, and/or see in order to understand. We talk of various sensory ways of learning: visual, auditory, olfactory (possibly). But there is also a tactile component to learning. An object, a thing, which we can touch, feel, manipulate is important for the tactile learner. How can tactile learners learn if they are not given the tools they need?
We all use tools/objects in order to recall feelings which in turn lead to associations. It is the way we process new information, and apply old information. What happens when we do not recognize the importance of certain objects to different ways of learning. If we do not cultivate the tactile response to an object for a person who depends upon the tactile to learn, how will that person be lost to society?
July 3, 2014
From Evocative Objects: Things that we think with.
What type of object is the datebook?
It is an object that organizes, gives structure to our lives. It is an object that keeps us on track, telling us what to do, where to go, who to see. It is an object that makes us feel good about ourselves by recording our accomplishments. It serves to remind us of what we have experienced, a souvenir of our days, weeks, months, and years. It is a journal. It records and alerts us to the possibilities life has to offer. It is an object that makes us feel bad by showing all that we could have accomplished. It is a highly personal object that is not just about us, our life, but about how our life fits into the many lives of society as a whole.
Each person’s relationship to his or her datebook is unique. For some it might have one meaning, for others another. Some people use a traditional, hand written datebook, others make list both handwritten or typed on a computer. Some use a computer calendar, or many different computer calendars. In the 7 or 8 years since this essay was written the datebook has shifted more into the digital realm of smartphones and tablets, with apps and calendars that can be accessed across numerous devices by multiple users. Datebooks can be physical objects, virtual objects, objects of memory, or any number of combinations of all three.
Datebooks are extensions of ourselves. “Our brain”, or our faces, public and private. Datebooks are for some a ‘security blanket’ and for others a nuisance. They offer us power and control over our lives. They are creative projects, color coding and aestheticizing our daily lives. They help us set goals, visualize goals, meet or erase them. We use them to prioritize our lives. Datebooks are maps of our existence in space and time.
My own family, like many of our friends, would be lost without our Google calendar that my husband, sons and I can access at any time from a number of devices. The calendar alerts us to upcoming appointments. When I hear that familiar ‘ding’ from my phone I know I have something on the schedule. Ms. Hlubinka writes that the transition from the physical, paper datebook to the iCal program on her MacBook was difficult. She felt it destabilizing. I wonder what she uses today? Has she fully transitioned to a virtual datebook? Is her smartphone implanted on her hand? Or does she still feel a sense of loss for the physical book?
I try to keep a paper calendar hung on my pantry door. But I do this more as a longing for something I no longer use. I find it hard, impractical to put more than the monthly flea and parasite treatment for the cat on the paper calendar. Our lives are now lived in a cyber world, and it feels right to put our datebook in that world too.
July 3, 2014
From Evocative Objects: Things that we think with.
In this essay the object which the author, Tod Machover, writes about, the object which he finds most evocative, is his cello. Mr. Machover is a composer and inventor, but also a cellist. It is the first ‘traditional’ instrument he learned to play as a child. It is the instrument which led him to his profession, but it is not his profession. It is the object which pulled him into the culture of music. It is an object whose significance is highly personal. I found the final paragraph of the essay most revealing in the object’s meaning to Mr. Machover today. It is no longer about why he was drawn to the cello as an instrument to study, but why, through various changes and shifts in meaning, the cello still has meaning for him today.
The initial draw to the cello was because of the human qualities it presented to Mr. Machover. It’s size, form, sound and function are for him, unlike other instruments, all directly related to the human body and voice. Next the value of complexity was a deciding factor in his choice of cello as an instrument, it is “just hard enough”, challenging but achievable. Thirdly the draw to the cello was the role it plays within the tradition of the culture of classical music for which his mother had carefully begun grooming him at age 2 ½ years. Fourth, it remained there for him as he discovered the possibilities that lay beyond that classical music tradition. It opened itself to him as a tool for experimentation with the new musical forms he had opened himself to. At the same time he was able to rediscover the skill and technique that was layered upon the tradition of the instrument through a new instructor. He discovered the instrument’s depth. And finally, the cello had become a part of him by the time he moved beyond the realm of performing and into the realm of composing and innovating. The object went with him on his journeys as a part of himself, as the part which reminded him who he is and why he does what he does. The cello which was a bridge to the culture of music’s tradition, and which was a bridge which help him go beyond that tradition to innovation, remains the bridge back to the tradition, serving as a reminder of why he creates music.
This essay has made me think about what objects might play a similar role in my life as the cello has played in Mr. Machover’s life. What is the object which has drawn me to creating works of art, which led me over the bridge to the tradition, served as a bridge to innovation, and back again to the tradition? I guess it is for me less a physical object and more an action, the action being drawing. Even though I paint, I use drawing with paint markers more than brushes,and I suppose because I always used drawing utensils more than paints and brushes in creating works of art. I remember as a teenager using oil crayons on cardboard, drawing the image on and then going back with a brush dipped in mineral spirits to thin the image, make it more painterly. As an art student I recall using oil paint markers, bought and homemade to apply paint to canvas and boards. And now these have been replaced by acrylic and enamel paint markers which I use to add detail and structure to my canvases. This is also part of the reason I feel odd at times talking about my paintings as ‘paintings’. I think, if someone committed to the tradition of painting saw what I was doing they would deny them their place within that tradition- they are drawn more than painted. But like Mr. Machover’s cello, it is a personal relationship to the drawing utensils I use which keep me grounded in the tradition and at the same time open up the way to innovation for me.
July 3, 2014
From Evocative Objects: Things that we think with.
In this essay Ms. Spilecki makes clear how our personal interaction with an object within the structure of its tradition empowers the object, enlivens it, and gives/reinforces its meaning. Objects have meaning, because we give them meaning through our use and belief in them.
Ms. Spilecki is looking at the medicinal rub, dit da jow, created by her Kung Fu teacher and used to promote quicker healing of injuries, as the object at the core of this text. Dit da jow is not produced by just her Kung Fu teacher, but by all Kung Fu teachers. It is a part of the tradition of Kung Fu, a “killing and healing” art form. “Jow”, or “wine” is part of the healing technique of Kung Fu. Each teacher has his own recipe, which is kept secret [except when commercially produced for markets such as the USA, then its ingredients need to be revealed to appease the FDA]. Ms. Spilecki possesses two bottles of dit da jow, one she purchased online and one mixed up fresh by her Kung Fu teacher. The herbs used in all dit da jow are similar in their medicinal properties if not in the actual type and combinations. The “secret” recipe is passed down from teacher to pupil.
The notion of secrecy and caution are key parts of the tradition of Kung Fu. This is because of its history as a respected, yet feared art form dating back to the attempt of the Ching Dynasty, who fearing the power of Kung Fu, destroyed its center, the Shaolin Temple, in the 17th century. Five Kung Fu teachers were able to escape, and to date all students of Kung Fu are descended from these five. In order to maintain their power, and out of fear for their own survival a culture of secrecy evolved. Tradition and the validation of a teacher and his pupils through the lineage is important to the object. Once a secret is revealed it cannot be taken back. Therefore it is important how the secret is revealed; in the case of Kung Fu bits and pieces are revealed among the pupils so that no student becomes more powerful than the teacher, otherwise the teacher is in danger of losing his power.
But objects and their traditions do undergo changes over time. In the example of Kung Fu a strong part of the power it possessed came from the dedication of the student to the tradition. This dedication was an investment of time and belief, interaction with the object. Today this is not as strong among the students, but still important to the teacher. As this relationship to the tradition changes is the power of the object lessened? Ms. Spilecki returns to the example of dit da jow. At first her approach to the object was a bit sceptical of its powers to heal; but she tried it and found that it did work as promised, so she used it again and again. As her use, interaction with the object increased so too did her belief in the objects power. It became real, alive, for her. After not finding the same results with the dit da jow purchased from another teacher, she became sceptical again, returning to her teacher, questioning the power of the object. His frustration in her lack of dedication to the object was apparent. She had strayed from the tradition, of course it was not working for her, the power wasn’t there. She needed to return to the tradition, rededicate herself to it, and then the jow would work. The object is empowered by our interaction with it, our dedication to its tradition. Ms. Spilecki identifies this as the “value of personal interaction”; it is the part of tradition that gives the object its power, its meaning, that makes it work.
What are the traditions in painting that give power to my work?
July 3, 2014
The title of this essay, for the catalogue of an exhibition about exhibiting objects at the Museum of African Art in New York City, is a question. Does an object have a life? The answer is a simple and straightforward “yes”; but the life an object has is a not a singular, unevolving life, it is an ever changing, ever evolving life.
Ms. Nooster Roberts approaches this main question by way of the many questions surrounding all objects and their place in collections, exhibitions and museums.
Does an object have a life? Yes, and we usually only know its life in the current context we are viewing it. We know little of what came before. But the life an object had prior to the life we know it to have is just as important. Therefore we need to push through the constructs of the current context we find an object in to find as much as we can about what has brought it to this place and point in time. By doing this we can then begin to understand the object and determine its authenticity.
First, we need to understand that everywhere in the world, all the time, context is shifting. Therefore “original” context is no more authentic that other contexts which come later. Authenticity is a relative concept.
Is an American car authentically American if 99% of it is made in another country?
Objects are often separated from their maker, exchanged multiple times and acquire multiple meanings through these exchanges. Sometimes objects experience little movement away from the maker, yet still over time their function can change, which changes their meaning. Objects can be added to by others in their interactions with them, contributing to a physical change. The point is objects are continuously changing in multiple ways over the course of their life span. Change can be physical, functional, or meaningful.
But what about objects which have reached the end of their life span. These too can be changed through the artistic practice of recycling by which objects are given new life, both physical and meaningful. Permanence is a shifting value to the life of an object, and different cultures have different values concerning the permanence of an object. Sometimes an object, the product of a process, is eliminated once it has fulfilled its purpose in order to retain the value of the creative process. Othertimes the object, the product, is preserved until it disintegrates in order to preserve the spirit which resides in the product.
In direct relation to objects from Africa Ms. Nooster Roberts states it is important to recognize that there is no uniform African philosophy concerning the nature of objects, and while all objects are considered to be “alive”, the most common belief holds that objects come alive through human agency, they do not have an innate life-force. Objects need to be presented offerings, cared for, activated, and mediated (intervention and interaction).
The place for this intervention and interaction often occurs is the shrine. Shrines can be understood as complex fabrications; a single space with clear boundaries in which the universe is condensed and fused into the object. Energy is channeled into the shrine through the unique symbol: the object. The African shrine production according to Ms. Nooster Roberts mirrors certain parts of the Western museums concepts of collection and classification, at least metaphorically. Both are microcosms, full of fragments of diverse, even conflicting realms. In both an object has been taken out of its original culture and placed in a new one, yet the original culture in its absence is present as a possibility of recreatable space/time, or not. Both speak of the power of the object’s possessor on a large scale. A culture’s power is being appropriated--a sign of cultural imperialism in both.
The object in the museum, removed from its original context, has become an “ethnographic fragment”; reclassified, recontextualized and given new meaning as “art, artifact, craft or souvenir”. This initial “detachment” of the object which leads to its reclassification as “art” occurs via the commodification of the object. An object commodified has an increase in value (monetary, or an act of exchange). Once commodified the desire to posses rises, leading to the collection of the object. A museum purchases the object, furthering adding value to the commodity and then “decommodifies” it by reclassifying it as part of the collection. There is a constant shift in value, in meaning, in time and in space. Once in the museum’s collection the object continues to experience these shifts in classification, and with each value increases. The object can eventually leave the museum, and gain new context through appropriation of the image, recycling the old forms for new meanings.
This constant shifting lead back to the question of authenticity. What is authentic? How real is something when it is no longer in its original state or being used for its original purpose? How does the context an object is in change the authenticity of that object? Is ‘realness’ [authenticity?] inherent in a work? How do the shifts affect the object’s authenticity in relation to the viewer’s judgement of that authenticity?
These questions lead Ms. Nooster Roberts to the specific example of the 1993 exhibition at the Museum of African Art “Face of the Gods” which featured various altars/shrines, created and re-created for the exhibition. Out of the exhibition arose many questions and concerns about ethics of displaying these objects, still for the majority in the exhibition considered “active” “living” objects of religion/worship and the authenticity they retained in the museum context.
The primary question: Does the museum have the right to own/display “active” objects? [active=spirit infused]. Can museums recreate rituals of activation for objects they are displaying, and should they?
Ms. Nooster Roberts answers these questions via the experience of this exhibit. Through the course of the exhibition it was found that the altars and shrines through ritual activation by their makers AND through the response of the audience/viewers/museum visitors became living entities. Offerings were left, these contributions to the create process [altar/shrine creation], the addition of something to it, the innovation by the viewer/visitor is what made these altars/shrines and their objects authentic.
So the essay ends back at the question: what is authenticity? It is answered that authenticity is neither a physical or a material state or essence; it is when “the idea is pure”.
I do think this is a pretty good definition on what makes an object authentic. Not to oversimplify, but it is to me like the saying “if the intentions are good…”. Another thing that came to my mind is how we view certain products today as being representative of a certain culture, yet are surprised to find they are not produced within that culture. Does this make them less authentically a part of that culture? No, because that culture has given something to that product, even if it is only the idea that it is a part of that culture.
July 3, 2014
In this essay Ms. Hamera puts forth how and why performance theory can and should be applied to the object using the specific example of Navajo folk art and how it reveals performance within it.
The first idea Ms. Hamera mentions as a key part of Navajo folk art is the role “trickster performance” plays within it. By this she is referring to the disruption or manipulation of the Navajo artist of a number of different cultural taboos while at the same time the artist shows the dedication to the continuity of the culture through revelation of other aspects of Navajo cultural life. This idea of simultaneous disruption and continuity is found throughout the life of the Navajo folk art object; it is a part of its creating, a part of the collecting of the object, the part of the displaying of the object.
Although a clear definition of what constitutes Navajo folk art exists, Ms. Hamera makes clear that the artists and collectors do not necessarily agree with the academic definition due to its restrictive nature. First, the definition portends that the folk artist is self-taught, untrained. This is not always the case, especially in light of the the ‘families of artists” found within the Navajo folk art community. If the training in craft making is thought to be passed down, but not the training to make art, why is there distinctive “family traits” found within the objects produced, yet at the same time these objects also contain a major criteria for making them art: idiosyncratic statement/handling, or simply a uniqueness. Also, Ms. Hamera points out the verification of authorship is different within these family groups. Often objects might be produced to a great extent by various family members yet signed by only one. Finally, Navajo folk art is often displayed in major fine art museums, sold through fine art auctions/catalogues, but also through craft sales. In other words it is hard to place a clear, academic definition on what is Navajo folk art because it does not fit into the existing structures of the folk art definition. But it still has some similarities to what is defined as folk art: economy of form, thematic/ironic references to everyday life, sense of commentary, existence of the objects within contexts which value their “Indianness”.
Another key component of Navajo folk art according to Ms. Hamera is its existence as a commodity. She references Appadurai’s definition of a commodity as anything intended for exchange. From the start, above being valued only and purely as an aesthetic object, Navajo folk art objects are for the artist who created them an object to be exchanged: for food, for money, a supplemental income. Self expression is of equal value to income production for the creators of these objects.
Ms. Hamera pulls Navajo folk art into the area of performance theory by way of its existence as a commodity. Commodification “animates”, or enlivens the object, making it perform. She does question whether this animation fetishizes the object as well, but leaves this open. What is clear is that the commodification is related to the theatrical/performance technique of repetition.
The commodified object communicates something to us via its commodification. It is calling attention to what it being expressed by the artist through it, in turn also calling attention to the artist. She also compares the object to a story being told. The story being told is a verbal performance while the object is a “non linguistic action”. Both have their origins in poetic acts and social functions. The object is like the stage upon which the performance happens. The object as a commodity speaks to us.
Ms. Hamera states that this analogy is not just an analogy, but a reality in light of how Navajo folk art objects are traded, sold, collected and displayed. These actions are in themselves also performances. When asked to explain or interpret the meaning the artist has woven into the object during its making, the artist oftens turns this explanation into an act of performance, and the inquirers also interpret it as such. In the moment of explanation the artist is performing, telling the story. Does the object then become like the stage prop? It is a vital part of the story, traveling through it, appearing and reappearing here and there [repetition], but also it is the story, it is the commodity intended for exchange.
The value of the object as a commodity is meant to go beyond the value as a purchased art object. The Navajo folk art object is meant to draw the collector into the story it is telling. The collector is animated, enlivened by the object, becoming part of the performance. Back to the notion of disruption and continuity Ms. Hamera explains how the disruption which comes through violation of taboos also involves the collector by the consequence of being drawn into these taboo breaking stories being projected onto him or her. This can have one of two effects, either a collector wants an object because of the taboo breaking/disruptive quality or the collector keeps such objects out of his or her collection.
Ms. Hamera suggests that Navajo folk art objects in their role as commodity performances are performing “commodity ventriloquism”. In these case it is not clear who is speaking/telling the story, there are numerous storytellers involved. The artist begins telling the story in the objects creation, but as it is traded, sold, collected. resold, collected, etc. the story is retold by different tellers, each time a new projection is added to the performance. A specific example of this can be found in the “memory aides”, reproduction of sand paintings, whose reproduction is a taboo, and how the story is passed on, altered, and commodified.
How do we [artist] perform through the work we produce? Is the work we produce also a commodity? And how does the commodification of our own art work relate to its existence as performance and our performance in its existence?
July 3, 2014
Objects and people become ethnographic artifacts when they are defined as such by ethnographers. The author asks, perhaps these are fragments. An object implies a whole, but a fragment is generally no longer a part of the ‘whole’.
Objects or their copies placed in situ, in replicas of the place from which they come, are made ‘whole’. The constructs of the ethnographer follow certain rules or conventions, yet it is possible for the display to over power the object [or ideas]; meaning deteriorates to spectacle.
Establishment of a theoretical frame of reference for the object being displayed is in context. There are as many different contexts a single object can be placed in as there are interpretations of the object. Classification, arrangement and documentation are key structural components of displaying objects in context. Without these frameworks the object risks falling into a realm of triviality.
In both of these approaches of display multiple objects of strong similarity are necessary for the objects’ meaning to affect the viewers.
Collectors create their own rarities by creating their own categories; in this case the object may not become a spectacle or trivial, but may become just an ‘object d’art’, stripped of the other meanings which gave it value.
In my husband’s family there is a sofa. It is the only larger item to survive the destruction of his great-grandparent’s house in Hildesheim during the bombings. My mother-in-law was promised these pieces of furniture, whose meaning within her family goes back to the late 19th century East Frisia when Otto von Bismarck was trying to “unite” the Prussian Empire and East Frisia. My mother-in-law is descended from a civil servant for the Prussian Empire in Aurich/East Frisia. It is told, one day Bismarck was checking out how things were going in the far edge of the empire and he visited this civil servant to discuss things over a cup of tea. Supposedly he sat on this sofa. Years later my mother-in-law’s mother wanted nothing to do with this ugly, Biedermeier sofa, a memory of painful years contained in its upholstery. The objects did not fit her modernist aesthetic. So her sister took them to preserve for her niece, at least until the day when my mother-in-law’s mother declared the sofa to be a beautiful piece of art from a previous age, the age in which her long deceased parents and grandparents lived. She invested time and money, had the sofa reupholstered and proudly displayed it as “Bismarck’s Sofa”. The next generations could not find much value in this object as a work of art or of any historical significance. Now the grandmother is gone and the sofa sat crammed into a spare bedroom at my in-laws house, waiting for the time when it could take up residence in a ‘Heimatmuseum’ somewhere in the middle of what was once the Prussian Empire, as fine, beautiful examples of furniture from the “Biedermeier” period. Bismarck and the bombings removed from it by the curators just like my grandmother-in-law removed the original upholstery.
What about objects which are ephemeral, intangible, unmoveable and animals? We record. Only actual artifacts [objects] are real, the rest are representations/reproductions.
The importance of the exhibit is expressed in how it is “labeled”; a museum should be not a house of specimens, but a house of ideas, arranged systematically, a collection of labels illustrated by an object on display.
As we depend more on the recording than the actual experience what does that mean we will leave behind? How will these non-objects be labeled?
Part of an object's value is created by the time the ethnographer invests in it; time demonstrated by two parts: illustration and description. [Matthews]
Exhibition of human specimens, the spectacle of the performance, reframed within the acceptability of the museum, or 19th century scientific lecture.
Example Charcot’s lectures at Salpetriere.
In the 1970s we had a human model- head to digestive tract, built of plastic, outer layer of torso skin, side and top of head removed, containing removable organs, in our classroom. We called him “Charlie”. We were taught CPR and the Heimlich maneuver on a ‘doll’, made of plastic, solid head and torso, lips slightly ajar, nostrils flaring, eyes closed, floppy limbs and plastic doll hair, wearing a blue with white stripes track suit. We called her Annie. Today my children learn human anatomy via documentaries on PBS, digital images reproducing the human form, showing function, photos and videos recording the processes of our bodies. I recertify my CPR practical skills on a blue box, lightweight, with vague indications of where breast bone, ribs, lungs and navel would be. The head is light weight, grey plastic, sort of resembling a human neck and head, but not really. From the hole-like parted lips a plastic bag pokes through, providing coverage for absent lips which would never be touched anyway because of risk of contamination. The bag continues through the back of the head, down the neck, and into the body where it assumes the role of ‘lungs’. The same ‘doll’ exists in miniature too, an infant. It seems we have gone in the opposite direction of the wax models of previous eras. Is it the more we know of our physio-anatomical differences the less we want to represent these differences?
Two options for exhibiting living specimens, which aren’t always clear in their divisions: the zoological and the theatrical. Presentation of living people cause the question “what are they doing?” Performing a ritual? Performing everyday tasks? Do we have a similar response to documentary films of cultures other than our own today?
Museum effect: ordinary things become special when displayed within the museum.
In countries or cultures where certain groups do not have or want immediate access to the ‘other side of life’, it seems to me, there is a popularity to explore these differences in the ‘whole wide world’ via ethno-tourism, ecotourism, and other ‘study vacations’.
Panoptic mode: the Internet, PCs, social networking and handheld mobile devices have given us the ultimate tool for viewing the world via a panoptic mode.
Silence please! I can’t see the art for the sound of your breathing. Turn the lights down low so I can hear the music! On the other side you have the ‘festival’: multisensory, multi focus, your concentration is really required.
Festivals as the entry point to a culture.
Years ago I lived in a small city in southwest Germany. Each Fall the church community had two festivals (Bazaars). We had joined the community a week after the second of these two festivals, so it was almost a year until our first bazaar. What I noticed in our time there was that they did not begin to accept you into the community until you had participated in Bazaar. For important members of the community the bazaar experience would be recreated to celebrate a certain milestone or achievement, but it was always ‘bazaar’ that they were celebrating.
I now live in the city where the artist Barnaby Evans created a fire sculpture/performance piece in 1994 now known as “Waterfire”. I know the artist has tried very hard to keep it a piece of art, but it seems to me it has grown to a level of spectacle, overpowering the ‘art’. It is a vital contributor to the generation of tourist dollars, which are much needed by this city. Money and knowledge from the piece flow back into the arts community. And it is fun to experience. But has it become a small, recurring festival?
Performance is all process; through repetition frozen in time, referring to the previous performance. Connection to the original ritual becomes lost; disengaged from the space and time of these traditions and rituals through performance. But the concept is important to building the political claims of a culture. A culture with a displayable, performable, enactable past has right to claim a present and a future. Various dictators have claimed power through the invention of folkloric traditions and rituals.
Regarding performance today, I wonder about the role film and video documentaries play in the ideas presented here. I also am made to think of the numerous street performers I have seen in various large cities throughout Europe and North America, people in everyday ‘western’ clothing performing on instruments traditional to their culture while they stand in front of a shop, sit on a subway platform, or in a park. The global migration that occurs today, primarily an economic migration, brings people with their rituals and talents from all over the world to where they might be able to earn a living. These are not the performers brought to a country by some professor to display their culture for the educated middle class to see. They came on their own and are performing on their own. What are the structures they are using in these performances? Would any of these street performers be asked to perform at a folk festival?
July 3, 2014
Why do we need objects? For us to evolve, they are a necessary part of our survival and comfort.
Problem: objects are our competitors in an ecosystem of dwindling resources. The production of objects which quickly lose their value is not only draining resources but accelerating the degradation of the planet.
In order for humans to survive we need to figure out a sustainable way to co-exist with the objects we constantly produce and depend upon.
Some of the objects are an immediate, direct threat to our existence [weapons], while the impact of other objects have a threat that is less immediate, indirect [environmental pollution].
Artifacts [objects, things] are in some ways like new species; self-reproducing alongside biological species. Their function gains in complexity as they evolve.
It is wishful thinking on our part that because an object is created by a human it is under our control: not always true. Objects’ forms and functions denote that they will evolve, regardless of human involvement.
Human intention is at the basis of the creation of all objects, but our intentions are formed by the existence of other objects which exist prior to the creation of a new object. Bigger, better, faster...
Humans depend on objects and objects depend on humans; at times the relationship is mutually beneficial, at other times the objects survival is at the expense of the humans’. What are the true costs of an objects production?
We depend on objects both physically and psychologically. Most objects that we create today are more about the psychological than the physical need for the object. If we are in control of our minds, how can we be psychologically dependent on any given object or objects? This sense of self control is an illusion.
Without the influence of an external structure giving order, our minds wander. The external structure gives us direction and contains boundaries. We need something to do, otherwise we end up anxious and depressed; our minds were not designed to be idle. [TV and other screens become surrogates for order, distracting us from idleness]. Put down your smartphone, daydreaming is allowed!
We need “external props” to keep memories of past experiences present in our mind to help it plan and hope for the future. The props function as parts of our identity, keeping our sense of who we are in focus.Post a few old photos to Facebook...
“The self is a fragile construction of the mind.”
Psychic decline is our normal state of mind and we don’t like it, so we search for ways to create order to stop the decline. We find this in the creation of objects. Objects offer stability which in turn gives us the “sameness” by which we find our identity.
“...against the subjectivity of men stands the objectivity of the man-made world…Without a world between men and nature, there is eternal movement, but no objectivity.”
[Arendt 1958: 137]
Three ways objects objectify and thus shape our [self-] identity:
1. demonstrate owner’s power, erotic energy, social standing
2. provide continuity of self by way of involvement in the present, mementos/souvenirs of the
past, and point to future goals
3. give real evidence to the place of the subject in a social group (network) through their
symbols within the relationship
Power
Weapons as a sign of power.
Today kinetic objects in the form of cars, machines are signs of power.
Big things [mass] are signs of power.
Status symbols today are complex, almost anything that shows rareness, value
Power specific to women, really?
object stereotyping feminine qualities: seductive, fertile, nature
ornament
“control energy” [psychic energy of men]
We want, need, to show the world who we are; this drives us to develop more objects [technology] to show this by way of our survival and comfort.
Example of early use of bronze and other precious metals: their novelty led to first be used as ornament, attractive symbols and personal adornment. “Look at me!” then they were applied to more practical purposes. Contemporary example: early mobile phones.
We are insecure, not really sure of our identity, therefore we seek it in the reaction/reflection of others to the objects we poesse. Or post? We seek a positive self-identity through what we own. This seems to be more and more the case, but it probably isn’t anymore than it has ever been, no?
Objects not only define who we are, they are a part of who we are.
Our homes have a purpose to provide us shelter, but are also where we keep our things, organize our notion of our identity; it expresses both continuity and change, makes permanent that part of us which is ungraspable. Our homes contain objects which represent external status and power as well as object which represent our internal self.
Objects which express identity are different for each age and gender; objects contain temporal qualities.
What objects are important to us [me], represent identity today?
Men tend to find their identity in objects that are active and instrumental; women through objects that express nurturance and conservation. Stereotypes, or truth in stereotypes?
How do our objects link us to others?
They remind us of others, friends and family, with this increasing as we age.
They remind us of who we were, or where we might have been, at a point in our lives.
They represent our ideals and our origins.
In ‘stable’ cultures fewer objects are needs to remind and represent these things; in ‘mobile’ cultures [American] things are important as they offer stability in the place of change. In these societies lack of objects can be a sign of social isolation.
We are addicted to the material because we need to make solid that which is ephemeral,we need objects to reassure us of who we are...make us bigger, better than ever so we survive beyond our lifetime.
The most dangerous objects are the ones of power. They grab our resources, they are expensive both environmentally and in terms of human cost. The least costly are those objects which denote relationships; their value is intrinsic, less resource gobbling.
How we decide to build our identity based upon the objects we choose is consequential to our material culture as well as to our natural environment.
We must learn to live with our addiction to objects by means of self-discipline of the mind. As we gain control of our mind, the control objects have over us lessens. “Symbolic culture” [dramatic arts, literature, music---non material things] give us the meaning [purpose] and structure our minds crave without the material objects. When we are able to lessen our dependence on material objects for the purpose of occupying our minds we will be able to return them to a role as instruments rather than as projections.
A noble thought, but I don’t think it is a reality that can ever be universal. If from the start we first created objects as ornament, then how can we ever take them back to a solitary meaning of instruments? Isn’t an ornament also an instrument, even if it seems for a less noble cause?
July 3, 2014
Introduction Chapter to the Volume: Material Cultures
Mr. Miller states that by emphasizing “some” things and not “all” things the discussions of material cultural studies are blocked from taking the course of general discussions on materiality and the significance of the materiality of forms within its realm. Mr. Miller sees the aim of the texts as to go beyond this already established discussion and to address the diversity of materials, “some things”, and why some things are more important to the whole as opposed to reducing the importance of the materials to individual subcategories as has often been done in anthropology. Material culture studies, according to Mr. Miller, does not really exist as a separate academic discipline, but the ideas it offers are being addressed across various fields, and they are a liberating force. It is an ‘undisciplined” field trying to attain “disciplinary status”. It offers freedom, opening various academic disciplines to the study of areas traditionally closed off; it lifts boundaries allowing for further exploration. Because of this, it is a field which is best looked at and addressed through specific problematics of other fields.
Mr. Miller states that material culture studies is best seen as a “means” rather than an “end”. So it seems it is best viewed as a tool whose use enables other fields to go further in their research than they have been able to go before. Part of the reason material culture studies had not been applied much to research prior to the 1970s according to Mr. Miller was that by focusing on certain ‘parts’ the research invited the accusation of “fetishism” at the sake of social analysis; thus preventing the complete study of cultural life. Is this no longer be the case? Therefore Mr. Miller, despite stating it is not a separate field, attempts to look at material culture studies as a whole field, and not in its application as a tool used in another field. Mr. Miller sees the risk of digression to “fetishism” of a specific object to be actually less within the realm of material culture studies than within another related field.
Material culture is incredibly diverse, which is what makes it exciting to Mr. Miller; subject matter [objects?]contained and addressed within this field are more numerous than in most other fields. We are surrounded by stuff, and constantly making choices regarding and interacting with [both consciously and unconsciously] with all this stuff. The diversity is an internal and external phenomena as a result of the many different subjects we encounter and interact with; whose mere volume we cannot address in general terms. Instead the possibilities of analysis which can lend an overall structure of approach to be applied to this massive amount of diversity is what is sought. How can we provide form and structure so the huge amount of material does not overwhelm us?
Mr. Miller suggests the way to do this is by addressing the “generality of materiality” balanced by the specificity of “material domains” and the application of “forms” so that they become a part of cultures. He states that this is by default often the case, but when things arise by default their acknowledgement as a necessary component is often undervalued, therefore it needs to be stated that this is a necessity to the field of study. Mr. Miller then ties this into the assignment of material culture studies: to state the value and necessity of the parts of a culture which just occur and because of this are often overlooked, or their value unacknowledged. So much of what exists falls outside of the traditional boundaries of various fields and is thusly ignored. Material culture studies is there to unlock the gates at these boundaries opening these things to the fields which they surround but are denied access to, which are lost because their value is not recognized.
When we focus on the materiality of things we naturally must focus on the diversity of forms of objects and what they represent. By focusing on the specifics, understanding about a more general aspect is gained. By focusing on the “precise details” which comprise the materiality of an object we prevent the objects meaning from being lessened via recontextualization, and at the same time broaden the discussion of its meaning at higher levels. The common approach in material culture studies [structure] is one in which the focus is kept on the object being analyzed, but within a tradition which prevents the reduction of this analysis to fetishization of the object’s material form. The object must hold our gaze. Mr. Miller states often we do not let this happen out of the fear for fetishization. But in turning away the object [risks becoming?]becomes a fetish.
Returning to the basic statement of the foundation of material culture studies, that “material matters”, but Mr. Miller points out a flaw in this foundation. This flaw is identified as the tendency to identify similarities in distinction drawn in one area with those drawn in another via formal analysis. This applied to any area, in any field, as a generalization of the subject, lessens the specificity of the subject. An arbitrariness of order was present in the tools used for this analysis despite the inherent structure which was intended to begin by the manifestation of the given order. In other words, they are revealing nothing new because they are just applying the generalizations of the old order over the new areas of specification.
A key criteria when dealing with specifics is the prioritization of what “matters” most. Mr. Miller identifies the term “matter” not as the “thing’s” importance or significance to a culture, but more the significance of the culture through its relationship to the thing. It is not the significance of the ‘thing’ being studied, but the significance of the culture’s relationship to the ‘thing’ which is being studied. This makes it very easy to get the priorities about what “matters” wrong. Sometimes what “matters” to one a great deals bears little significance to another, thus making a generalized answer to the question “does this matter?” impossible. For something to lead to the criterion “if it matters for them, it should matter for us” reduces or negates the value of the ‘thing’ which matters and its relationship to to the culture. The culture in the relationship is given all the power of saying what “matters” most. While this seems to be accepted in academia as justifiable, it is nonetheless problematic. On one hand academia should not be defining the value of a thing and its relationship to a particular culture, yet on the other hand how does a culture place value [prioritize] the value of a ‘thing’ in which it stands in relation to? What is said is often different than what is done.
While the positivist academic tradition accepts as fact only what is observable, the reality for material culture studies is that the subject [thing-culture relationship] is often unobservable in its relationship state. Therefore material culture studies must find its own criteria to decide why “some things” matter.
Mr. Miller identifies the source of this criteria to be in the field of Ethnography as it tends to look beyond just what the subject states about itself [the observable] to that which is left unsaid [unobservable]. Looking at the difference between what people say matters to them and what, through their actions, they show what matters to them. What matters can change, creating problems in the relationship. As values shift, uncertainty of what matters develops. What matters now? This question of matter specificity is through ethnographic enquiry approached at a deeper level, allowing for the revelation of greater nuance within the relationship.
What are the boundaries in the subject-object relationship [thing-culture relationship]? Mr. Miller defines the relationship as having a single dimension, serving as a thread linking three spheres in which the relationship occurs and can be addressed [private- public (local)- global], and the interaction of the relationship across these spheres. This differentiation of space/time in which the relationship exists is key to the understanding of why ‘some things’ matter more than others. In addition the “plurality” of existence within the context of mattering is vital to understanding the message the material is expressing. It is simultaneously speaking to an internal and external subject, and consensus is not a given in any sphere. The local-global juxtapositions at the heart of cultures today is often resolved by the concrete analysis of material cultural studies. The methods used are not limited to the methods assumed from the field of Ethnography, but wide in range, its theory is not reduced to abstract models, nor is it just based on what is said to matter, but also on what is shown to matter.
How do I consciously and unconsciously apply these ideas when developing the language of signs I use in my paintings?