Coming from a background as a painter, I have had idea that a work of art is completed in the studio, and that putting it in a gallery or on display elsewhere doesn’t involve any sort of transformation of the work. It’s just transportation of the work from one place to another. Recently, though, I been making a some sculptures that can’t be completed in the studio. They are too large, or involve some kind of “messy” process like piling peat moss or sand on the floor. I don’t complete them until they are on display. I liken this to a composer writing a symphony at the piano, only imagining what it will sound like when played by an orchestra. It’s an odd sort of abstraction, a leap of faith. Or, it’s like a novel. It’s not really anything until it gets read. It’s a non-entity, in way, as it is sitting on the shelf locked in a book, unrealized if unread.
Here’s my Lace Boat (that’s just a working title), in progress in the studio. It won’t be displayed upside-down like this, but this is the best way to work on it. Gravity is holding the fabric to the frames.
I’ve got a little problem, though. I can’t figure out how to fasten the fabric to the frames. I thought the white strips that run through the gunwhale (the edge that you’d hold onto if you were sitting in a canoe) would act as spring-clips and hold the whole thing together. Okay, all you geniuses, take a look at this photo and tell me what to do!
Here are some more shots:
One of the ideas that I’m most interested in, is that art acts as a “fulcrum of reality” (see my post below with this title). The point is, a work of art straddles a kind of divide between the real world and the world of ideas.
I came across a few paragraphs in Aesthetics & The Philosophy of Spirit (p 104-105) where the author, John Shannon Hendrix, writes of the literally or figuratively transparent work of art (using the example of the later work of Cezanne and the Cubists) as participating more in the absolute (i.e. the ideal, the perfect, the Platonic Form, the Oneness of the Universe) than the real. From the standpoint of the book, this is a good thing, because it makes a work of art more profound because by “participating” in the absolute it is communing with the divine.
It made me think of my “mesh vessel” (of which I have an image in a post below). Does it participate more in the ideal than the real because you can see through it? From the book’s point-of-view (if I understand it correctly), I am showing you two things at once, what the book calls the “The dialectic of the opposition between opacity and transparency in a sensible form. . .[which is] a metaphor of the dialectic between the concept and the idea, between reason and intuition, in the mind.” (p 104) Does this work in my sculpture in the same way it works in the paintings mentioned above? I don’t know. I’m working on a lace-covered boat (for which the framework is shown in a post below), which follows along on this idea of transparency. My approach was intuitive, though, since I just came across these paragraphs in the book earlier today.
I just realized that I’ve got another “transparent” piece called “Ich bin’s, der bald du folgst.” (“I am she, whom you will soon follow.”) So here it is. It’s about 3-1/2 feet tall, and made of paper, foam, and organza (fabric).
While I’m in church, and I should be worshiping, I like to sketch! Do you suppose God will smite me? I doubt it. I’ve done worse things. . .
This image has various vessels in states of “undress.” One of the ideas I’m trying to convey (and maybe this is too blatant), is that things are in a process of becoming, they are never complete.
Heck. I thought I’d try photographing my sketchbook, since my new point-’n-shoot has a “document” setting. Seems like it works pretty well!
These are sketches for some works-in-progress.
Oh, I also read P.F. Strawson’s Analysis and Metaphysics: An Introduction to Philosophy, which also has a misleading title (see the entry below). . .It’s an interesting book, and Strawson is considered to be an important post WWII philosopher, but it’s more a collection of essays than any kind of systematic introduction. . .Strawson is most famous for his book Individuals, which I have a copy of (thanks to the Oboler Library at ISU), but I’ve had a lot of trouble reading it because it discusses logic in terms of analogies to sentence structure (syntax). This confuses me greatly! I can’t criticize Strawson for what I can’t grasp, though. Maybe I’ll understand it some day. I’m going to take a Logic class (Philosophy 201) this Fall at ISU, so maybe I’ll learn something!
I finished reading Kai Hammermeister’s The German Aesthetic Tradition last week. Great book. Beautifully written. Linda Leeuwrik (that’s Doctor Leeuwrik to you!), our Art History Prof at ISU recommended it to me because I wanted to read about Kant before trying to read Kant. I don’t know that I’m ready to read Kant, however. (But, thanks, Doc!). . .. That brings me to what I’m reading now, John Shannon Hendrix’s Aesthetics & the Philosophy of Spirit: from Plotinus to Schelling and Hegel. The writing is a bit clunky (sorry, it’s my personal opinion), but it’s a great book, too. It jumps around a lot (but what’s a couple of thousand years between friends?). It actually starts with our good friend Plato, so I don’t know why he doesn’t get to be a headliner. Both of these books discuss what art is, what it does, and how it does what it does.
I read Ruth L. Saw’s Introduction to Aesthetics. It was anything but. Nice enough little book, but it was basically a treatise on why we should care about art, not what Aesthetics is. . .
In my basement studio, I’m working on the framework of a vessel form. It’s about 10 feet long, and it will be covered with lace (that part’s already sewn-up and ready to go). The ribs and keel have a real beauty of their own, so I thought I’d share it with you!
[I'm working on an artist's statement for my application for the Idaho Triennial in Boise. You'll notice, I hope, my attempt to be succinct, but also my attempt to not pretend to understand my work completely. I'll be working on this some more. Any comments?]
I do not try to lock particular ideas into my work. I do have particular ideas in mind at the inception of a sculpture, and I do want to delve into ideas, but I derive little pleasure from merely illustrating my own ideas. The point at which I am sure my work is about any particular subject is the point where I realize that somehow my unconscious ideas have seeped into my sculpture and that it is also about something else.
I use the vessel form as a metaphor, a stand in, for a number of different things. The vessel might be a metaphor for the entire Universe, carrying everything. It might also represent an individual person, since a vessel (as a ship, let us say) is autonomous. It can move around in the world. I try to encourage the autonomy of my work, to give it a life, but then to let it wander off.
I’m working on some larger versions of this piece. It’s a vessel form made out of burlap, with part of it subsequently coated with a cement mixture. One end of the vessel is sewn together, but the other end is loose, with the individual strips that act as planks left to do their own thing. This piece alternately looks like a lily or a squid.