(I wrote this back in 08/09, and there is clearly some introspective cathartic release happening that has not aged very gracefully. It served its purpose at the time and resulted in a trio of pieces that I believe are some of my strongest work, so I consider it important despite the flaws.)
The Problematic Condition of Language
Every person is a mystery. Held captive by subjective experience we all attempt to transmit a beacon of communication outward. We abide by the rules of societal norms, while subtle cues like the gestures of body language and the tonality of voice often reveal our true feelings. Words paradoxically suffer from excessive and yet insufficient meaning. I see the vast world of communication fraught with both contradiction and a cohesive unity. We are at the mercy of words; despite how insufficient they are we have no choice but to use them. Are words inherently deceptive? Or are the intentions of language noble outside the corrupting influence of human fallibility? I must admit that I am working in a language I don’t completely understand; yet I speak English fluently and I take it for granted.
Where is My Place Within This Flawed System?
I am an introverted person. While I am not exactly anti-social, I usually prefer the company of my few close friends or no one at all. Although I am not autistic thankfully, I am fascinated by the disorder. While I undoubtedly have no concept of the severity of alienation autistic people suffer, yet I can’t help but try to empathize. I often find myself thriving around aggressive personalities, the kind I used to find imposing. I find a candor about them refreshing in the midst of the posturing and facades that pervade the average character. The cruel irony of the situation is that I am generally a voluntarily anti-social person, and unless externally provoked, I am comfortable inhabiting my own world. I say voluntarily because usually I prefer to remain silent. If I am so inclined, I can move the “social switch” in my head to the on position. I find small talk insufferably banal, which usually leaves me keeping my mouth shut.
I admit there is something comfortable about the non-committal nature of such exchanges. Making casual conversation (preferably not weather based) while waiting at the bus stop or buying groceries is something I occasionally enjoy. The fleeting glimpse of a personality and the inferences you can make based off first impressions is a fun sort of game. I try to keep my personality flexible, so I can more readily adapt to a variety of social scenarios. We all have affectations, and there are ways to use them strategically to blend in. This kind of discourse is a benign commodity, cheap and disposable, though it does have value for me. Sometimes I accuse myself of social ineptitude, but the afore mentioned encounters reassuringly contradict this belief.
Sarcasm plays a strong role in my personality, and after giving it some thought I believe I’ve figured out why. First and foremost it is a means of enduring an absurd and irrational world, but also it is my way of mocking the ambiguity of words and striking back with frustration.
Personal Reflection
During this past summer I took a long walk, which often allows me to collect my thoughts. I experienced something of a revelation and realized (albeit pessimistically) that the majority of human interaction is fraught with deception, egotistical posturing and facades. I am certain that this phenomenon is not exclusive to this country, but the impulse to romanticize foreign culture often intervenes.
I grew up outside of Boston where the behavior patterns are generally direct and forthcoming, without regard to offending anyone. I speak my mind without reservation especially if I feel passionately about something, and I can’t help but feel this intimidates people. This is not my intention at all, but for some reason when someone asserts their opinion, the initial reaction is to think they are flaunting their knowledge. Self-censorship is a means of suppression that will ultimately manifest itself through passive aggressiveness. I find this even more disingenuous than sarcasm, which is at least self-aware. Passive aggression is a contradiction oblivious to the fact that it’s a contradiction. Somehow superficial behavior seems more prevalent on the west coast but perhaps I’m just being nostalgic.
I develop a rapport relatively quickly with forthcoming personalities, and I have little patience for the superficiality that seems to pervade mass society. I am constantly searching for exceptions to the rule, the people who embody substance over style. I think that most people want to be stereotypes, whether consciously or unconsciously. There is a comforting sense of solid identity gained by conforming to the tenets of a sub-culture. People align themselves with them, and self impose codification to their personality. This tendency is exacerbated with the advent of social networking websites, which encourage a prefabricated identity in which one is defined by their interests.
“It’s not easy to improvise. Its one of the most difficult things to do. When speaking in front of a camera one ventriloquises, or leaves another to speak in ones place, the schemas and languages that are already there. There are already a great number of prescriptions in our culture. The names are already preprogrammed. One is obliged more or less to reproduce the stereotypical discourse.” [i] These words spoken by the post-structuralist philosopher Jacques Derrida during an unpublished interview strongly resonate with me.
Familiarity is comforting to our species, and the inscrutable is commonly associated with a stereotypical frame of reference. Identity is built on the precarious foundation of words. People often set themselves up for preconceived judgment by following the rules of behavior deemed socially acceptable and proper by their peers. The quest for personal identity and overcoming insecurity is often associated with adolescence, but for many people it may last a lifetime.
People thrive from the attention of others: they need external reassurance. I am comfortable with myself and my personality, but with this independence, loneliness is often not far behind. I have undergone enough psychological introspection to know my stoicism is a defense mechanism against having my emotions manipulated and my trust in friends betrayed.
A friend of mine recently remarked that it took her a long time to get to know me. I took this as a compliment, as I find the most rewarding relationships are the ones in which layers of depth are revealed gradually over time. People exploit the ostensible allure of fashion able clothes or specific mannerisms such as slang. Face value is prized at the expense of content. I often feel that people construct and subsequently advertise their personalities around prefabricated selling points and rehearsed dialog. These are simply generalized speculations based on my personal observations. I want my theories to be refuted; I am guilty of perpetuating the vicious cycle of judging lest ye be judged. This perspective sounds elitist, but I eagerly anticipate and welcome anyone who defies my preconceptions.
The Rise of Rhetoric
Thousands of years ago the unevolved communication of humanity consisted of grunts and pointing. Those were simpler times, when language helped keep us alive long enough to reproduce. Now that survival is no longer part of our daily routine, we have become complacent and language has mutated into a powerful controlling force.
The vocabulary of the English language is constantly expanding. According to an estimation by the Global Language Monitor, the number of words in our language is currently approaching a million.[ii] The criteria and legitimacy of such a quantification may be suspect, as one has to wonder what exactly qualifies as a word. Does slang count? What about every single verb conjugation? At any rate, the English language is undoubtedly extremely large in comparison to other tongues. How many of those words are synonyms that reiterate the same thing? Do all these superfluous words proliferate rhetoric and undermine sincerity? I don’t think anyone has answers to these questions; but I have to propose and ponder them.
I often over-explain myself while speaking to someone and I suspect this may derive from my introversion; as though I am compensating for my reticence. I often feel a disconnect, as though my words are lost on them. While speaking to a woman I met recently she suddenly laughed mid sentence. This didn’t strike as rude, but I was surprised. “What? What’s so funny?” I asked innocently enough. “Oh nothing really, just the way you talk.” “Oh. I guess I have trouble articulating myself sometimes.” I became overly self-conscious for the rest of the day. I hesitate and stutter occasionally when attempting to make myself clear. I am always searching for the perfect word to use, which unfortunately usually confuses matters even more. Maybe I’m just paranoid, or maybe I’m just trying too hard.
Cross Cultural Observations
During the late summer of 2003 I accompanied my father and sister on a trip to Italy. My father spent the early 1960s on a tiny paradisiacal island off the Tuscan coast as a scuba diving instructor, and forty years later was attending an informal reunion with his old cohorts. As this was the first time I had visited a foreign language speaking country, I immediately became enamored by the sights, sounds, and, of course, tastes of Italian culture. I managed to acquire a slight amount of linguistic proficiency during my brief stay, assisted by whatever remained of my high school Spanish, and a guidebook of Italian phrases my sister brought along.
I became a bona fide Italophile in the wake of my trip, devouring Fellini films and scouring the library for Italian learning resources. Language immersion is difficult outside of the native country. There is only so much one can do to simulate it, but I certainly tried.
As my vocabulary expanded and my retention improved, I began to notice many patterns and parallels overlapping with my loose grasp of Spanish and my fluency in English. Most of these commonalities were cognates, but for many others the meaning could simply be inferred based on the etymology. While watching a French film I discovered much to my delight that I recognized a strong similarity to basic Italian verb conjugation. Often the prefix of the infinitive had a striking resemblance to the same word in Italian. Many foreign phrases and expressions have permeated our general lexicon, such as coup d’etat, rendezvous, and zeitgeist. The literal translation of these words remains unknown to the casual user, but their definition is known implicitly.
Our grasp of words is always tenuous no matter how much we try to convince ourselves otherwise. The afore mentioned examples serve to prove how arbitrary the correlation between words and their actual meanings are. De Saussure’s assertion of language as an agreed convention has had a profound impact on how I see language. “A linguistic system is a series of differences of sounds combined with a series of differences of ideas.”[iii] This quotation succinctly summarizes his theories. The words coming out of my mouth have nothing to do with the subject matter; they are a means to an end, contingent on context and repetition. When a word is repeated over and over, however, it becomes redundant; the phonetics are rendered nonsensical and subverted after originally granting power. Language is always one step ahead of us, outside our direct control. As William Burroughs so aptly observed, language is a virus, mutating and evolving at a rate that exceeds our own understanding of it.
A recent scientific study published in the October 2007 issue of New Scientist actually proves a correlation between the biology of evolution and the evolution of language. Evolutionary biologist Mark Pagel and his colleagues at the University of Reading, UK, used a comparative database of Indo-European languages to trace the words used to express 200 different meanings in 87 different languages. They discovered that frequently used words become cognates while the least used words change at a faster pace in a kind of natural selection. Common practical words are the dominant traits that pass themselves on to future generations.[iv]
There is something remarkable about interacting with someone in a foreign language. The majority of these encounters are from making somewhat awkward and stilted attempts to communicate with Mexican co-workers. However broken the conversation may be, the connection is real and direct; transcending linguistic barriers. There is no room to accommodate rhetoric in such an interaction. The fumbling and tripping over words is often analogous to the creation of art for me. Language is an abstract convention that conveys thoughts and expresses subjective ideas. During the struggling attempts for decipherable coherence, we find our efforts of a clear and concise message are convoluted, doing a disservice to the good-natured innocence of the attempt at conveying basic information. I want to believe that the artificial barrier language constructs can be surmounted. Part of the impetus behind my desire to speak other languages is to overcome this obstacle. There is something very pure and real about making sense and crossing that connecting bridge.
A sense of humor is a common trait that most humans have, and though comedy may vary across cultures, the innocent misinterpretation of language from its ambiguity is often very funny. Many comedic devices are dependant on this, such as the pun and the double entendre. The classic Groucho Marx line about shooting an elephant in his pajamas, and the Abbot and Costello routine “Who’s on first?” both rely on the shortcomings of language to convey information clearly.
Artistic/ Linguistic Correlations
Art communicates ideas in an even less literal way while at the same time somehow being more self-explanatory. Art can be appreciated on a purely aesthetic level, as it speaks a common formal language that most people can understand, regardless of whether the style appeals to them. The paintings of the De Stijl movement are an obvious example of this, with their purely formal and non-representational geometry. The unfortunate irony of this attempt of accessibility through simplicity is that these minimal paintings are so commonly dismissed as talentless, or “something my kid could do.”
I have the tendency to clutter concepts in my art with over embellishment. Granted, I am dealing with a complex topic, and I want the work to avoid getting subjugated. Ultimately I want the work to carry its own weight. I definitely don’t want the audience dependent on some sort of prerequisite. I want to express my ideas in an accessible fashion, and art has the potential to be a more conducive vehicle than verbal communication (which I have more than enough problems with already.)
Inspirations
A wide variety of influences have built my current aesthetic. So many things on both a conscious and subconscious level inspire me, and I often find it difficult to isolate a specific artist who has made a profound impression on me. I admit I have an aversion to the mentality of cult fanaticism that often surrounds a popular artist. I realize that sometimes talent justifies the hype, and I am not just spitefully contradicting public opinion. Popular style and trends are always fluctuating, and I can’t be bothered to keep pace with them, though I acknowledge the importance of paying attention to them.
I respect the rugged individualism of H.C. Westermann, whose uncompromising stance I find inspiring. His fringe status may have alienated him somewhat, but enabled the creation of art on his own terms. The duality of both his demeanor and his body of work is something that fascinates me. The man was a gruff ex-marine, and yet possessed a deeply creative spirit. Much of his work can be misleading and deceptive; as the humility of craft belies the conceptual impact, while the conceptual nuances are overshadowed by the impeccable craftsmanship. Walking the precarious line between art and craft I see much of his work navigating a consolidation of both ends of the spectrum.
Memorial to the Idea of Man If He Was an Idea is a prime example of this. Quite possibly Westermann’s most famous piece, it consists of a pine cabinet anthropomorphized by a pair of arms projecting out from the sides and a box resting on top with crenellations around the rim of the top and a cyclopean eye for a head. This figurative design is a reoccurring theme in Westermann’s oeuvre, not surprising considering his humanistic tendencies. The piece seems lighthearted and amusing at first glance, but underneath the levity of the surface is a work addressing existential angst.
The interior of the cabinet is adorned with a collection of bottle caps several cast tin toys. Westermann appears to be commenting on the accumulation of material objects to reaffirm and provide concrete proof of our time and place in the universe. I believe the materiality of his work gives potency to the quandaries raised in ways that the action painters could not achieve. Pollock’s paintings are just the tangible manifestation of a process; simply a means to an end, and the ends don’t justify the means.
No style is completely unique and original; some artists are simply better at being derivative in a subtle fashion. The postmodern conundrum is a double-edged sword. As discouraging it may be when it seems all artistic accomplishments have been achieved by your predecessors, I feel a certain liberation by the collapsed hierarchy and love reveling in it.
I am grateful to the Dadaists and pop artists and their self-aware ironic detachment. Their playful absurdity carries heavier allegorical connotations than they appear. This deception has the potential to be a powerful art form, and I have a great deal of admiration for Kurt Schwitters and his contributions to early twentieth century art. I can relate to his ideas of merz as a sort of psychological collage comprised of disparate fragments. The artist who collects and assembles the shards of waste and breathes new life into this forgotten debris is someone I admire greatly.
I have a great admiration of the surrealists and their exploration of the subconscious. The Freudian implications of semiotics that appear benign. The propensity to project ourselves into inanimate objects, as though they are an extension of ourselves. The symbols and archetypes that pervade the collective unconcious, and their significance interests me as well. The work of Georgio De Chirico in particular evokes the strange sensation of deja vu; an inexplicable feeling of familiarity. On the other hand, the bizarre and otherworldly landscapes of Yves Tanguy defy an immediate association, something very difficult to achieve but I try to emulate. I want to make art that doesn’t trigger a reactionary frame of reference.
I have a tendency to utilize contrast in my work, perhaps to assist in conveying the point I am trying to make. This contrast can range from seamlessly subtle to overtly obvious. The work of Giuseppe Penone navigates between identity and analogy, something I strive for as well.
The long history of conventional woodworking tradition provides many opportunities for me to use the material in unorthodox ways. As sculptor I don’t necessarily want to subvert the fine craftsmanship of my predecessors, but I do think wood has a great deal of potential when used in new and unusual ways.
When an artist floating aimlessly in a world of ideas plays the role of an intermediary between the material and the space it occupies; this often leads to very successful projects. There is a time and place for dictating and dominating every aspect of the piece, but sometimes I find it preferable to resign oneself to passivity and negotiate instead of directly control. Much like people, art can be stubborn and uncompromising. When faced with irrationality, sometimes it’s best to yield to the demands. Arguing with unreasonability is often fighting a losing battle, and placation can be the best strategy.
Personal Taste and Opinion
Recently someone commented on a copper cup I raised by calling it “whimsical.” I imagine she was trying to be complimentary, but that word has negative connotations for me. I have no tolerance for art that is unabashedly meaningless, or simply “weird for the sake of being weird.” On the other hand I don’t demand that art should always contain groundbreaking profundity. I do think that art should be the production of deliberate intentionality.
Of all the abused art school vernacular, the word “contrived” irritates me the most. Why is premeditation a bad thing? It is futile to wait for serendipity to make the work for you. I find Jackson Pollack’s efforts to create purely spontaneous art laughable. Art is always predetermined to a certain extent on neurological level.
It may be presumptuous of me to dismiss certain works outright without knowing the motives behind it; I can’t help but that lack of content has become a legitimate style somehow. When art becomes excessively ironically detached, nothing grounds it. I feel that many artists exploit the postmodern precedent of this irony purveyed by Warhol and the pop art movement in general. Warhol had a tactful ambiguity that he applied to both his enigmatic personality and by extension his art. His iconic Campbell soup painting can be seen as a critique of consumerism, or a tribute to the products that enrich our lives. He employs superficiality to disrupt institutional convention while maintaining the mystique of unclear motives.
I believe that almost all art forms benefit from some degree of abstraction. An example of bad art for me is something that elicits a contrived response. Subtlety and tact must be utilized to create both visual and conceptual depth to the piece, and this is undoubtedly a difficult balance to achieve. I want to make work that is versatile and open to interpretation, yet still exists within a specific scope.
I don’t make unreasonable demands that art must be conceptually high minded and sophisticated. I appreciate such work, such as many painters of the abstract expressionist school and Romantic Movement. I can relate to the existential role of the artist as alone in the universe, but eventually the work will suffer from these grandiose ideas, stagnating in self-importance and indulgence. My favorite artists reinvent themselves on a regular basis, and avoid taking themselves too seriously. Gerhard Richter, Yves Klein, and Marcel Duchamp all infused their work with complex concepts while embracing absurdity and lighthearted humor.
I have a tremendous affinity for art that has the stigma of lowbrow, such as comics. George Herriman’s Krazy Kat is a poetic surrealistic masterpiece, and contemporary comic artists like Dan Clowes and Alan Moore are redefining the genre. The escapism of mindless entertainment is not as stupid as the stereotypes might suggest. Diversions like sports and video games have many nuances and intricacies that are frequently overlooked. Despite all of my staunch opinions, I make a concerted effort to stay open minded to the merits of things.
Scientific Parallels
I am fascinated by math and science, but I often have difficulty wrapping my mind around the strict system of absolutes they abide by. Perhaps this is what attracts me to art and language; they shamelessly revel in ambiguity and in a way are more honest with their nature. I think the best poetry and art is always evasive, alluding to thoughts sensations and emotions without explicitly revealing something. Science on the other hand, is dependent on empirical observation, yet remains susceptible to the fallibility of our perceptions. Both scientists and artists work within the realm of the unknown. New discoveries are often made through experimentation and taking chances in both fields. Theories are revised through the years, attempting to reach some understanding of our universe. As old ideas are refuted, new ones reveal how little we actually know. Quantum physics casts doubt on the security of conventional absolutes, and despite how frustrating and discouraging this may be, science continues its quest for the answers unhindered. Such a daunting task does not interest me, but many scientific concepts do, despite how much difficulty I may have comprehending them.
I am not a scientist, and creating art is a way of manipulating the world around me in subtle ways. It is a way of asserting my authority and control over a chaotic universe. But there is something profoundly noble about science’s pursuit of a grand unifying theory that makes art look frivolous in comparison. If and when such a discovery is made, it quite possibly could be the greatest artwork of all time.
My Intentions
From a neutral perspective, I intend to address the contentious condition of language based on my own observations, and inspired by various linguists and philosophers. Derrida’s theory of deconstruction and the destabilizing concepts of post-structuralism have had an impact on my personal views of the nature of language. I don’t subscribe unconditionally to these ideas; they provide a valuable insight and an interesting viewpoint, but they must be taken with discretion. Delving too deeply into these convoluted theories will inhibit the process of creation, not to mention jeopardize my sanity.
The first sculpture I built, The Mutual Exclusivity of Binary Opposites that Unifies and Divides” embodies the ambivalence I feel regarding whether or not language is inherently unifying or divisive. The primary inspiration for this piece originated from the deconstruction theories of Jacques Derrida: primarily his ideas regarding binary opposites. Definition is most prominent and easy to apply to something when it is an extreme. Yes and no, light and dark, true and false, conscious and subconscious. These examples of polarized ends of a spectrum are relatively easy to classify. Meaning is contingent on repetition but leads to redundancy and negation of meaning if taken too far. These multitudes of iterability obscure intention and create ambiguity. The black and white mentality of “If x is not x, then x is y by default” is a human tendency to categorize and attempt to comprehend the true essence of definition, which is always out of reach.
According to Kant’s idealology, a long distance separates the perceived (phenomena) and the thing in itself. (noema) The following quote is form The Critique of Pure Reason: “If I remove the thinking subject, the whole material world must at once vanish because it is nothing but a phenomenal appearance in the sensibility of ourselves as a subject, and a manner or species of representation.”[v]
The theory of universal grammar proliferated by Noam Chomsky proposes that language acquisition occurs to everyone the same way regardless of culture. This theory proposes that language originates from an innate set of limitations in the brain, and consequently common structural basis to all tongues results. This reinforces by belief that cultural and linguistic barriers can be transcended. On a biological and neurological level the differences are miniscule. I realize that humanity has a long way to go before universal acceptance, but I sincerely feel the only way to truly conquer bigotry and hatred is to become aware of how laughably insignificant and trivial ethnic disparity is. The genetic sequences in racial DNA bases differ by 1/10 of 1%[vi]; we are all human, we are all fallible mortals.
The Mutual Exclusivity of Binary Opposites that Unifies and Divides
Derrida’s iconoclastic theories cast doubt on conventional structural absolutes, and this disruption understandably upsets linguistic foundations. The accusations of elitism and obscurantism by figures such as Chomsky are not unfounded, but I think it would be presumptuous to disregard his ideas on these grounds. Beneath the layer of rhetoric are legitimate and valid concepts. The fact that deconstruction incites such a strong reaction might be an indication of its potency. But it would be misguided to presume deconstruction is inherently elitist (or nihilistic for that matter) when many of its intentions are noble. For example deconstruction calls into question the hegemony and dominance of white western civilization. I am not trying to defend Derrida, as I don’t have blind faith in him. I have no allegiance to one particular philosophy just as I have no allegiance to a religion or subcultural identity. Floating in this void is a strange place to occupy; maybe I’m too skeptical of everything. Part of me wants to cling to reliable absolutes, but I suppose I’ve developed my personality this way and it’s too late to readjust it. I don’t trust anyone to have all the answers.
I see a correlation between the abstraction of meaning attached to words and the abstraction of individual artistic expression. Part of my motive for building this piece is to (potentially) provide conflict resolution for my personal feelings about language: is it unifying or divisive? My original design ideas came from a distinct point of origin, but quickly scattered and strayed from cohesion. My thoughts have a way of getting diverted by tangents, and I caught myself getting carried away again.
Initially I foresaw my ambivalence being embodied in two separate sculptures, but upon reevaluation, I decided that the piece would benefit from merging together. I realized that the yes/no opposition I was working with was not mutually exclusive, and deserved to inhabit the same piece.
The side emphasizing disparity consists of scroll-sawed pieces of burl stock arranged on a 2′ x 2′ board of 1” plywood. A burl is an abnormal bulging growth in a tree as a result of some kind of stress, and the swirling grain figure is often very beautiful. I decided using this material would be appropriate considering I wanted a chaotic pattern with no discernable direction other than outwards. The pieces themselves represent continents and landmasses and the borderlines that divide individual countries and their unique cultures. The pieces are cut so the lines of the edges conform to each other, giving the impression of having been attached at one point. Now separate, they drift apart from each other, but the evidence of their former unity remains. The super continent Pangaea and the Big Bang theory provided inspiration for some of these ideas: the concept of everything expanding out from a central point of origin. The linguistic correlations derive out of the following De Soussure quotation: “In language there are only differences, and no positive terms” [vii]
The square tile in the middle represents my insular English-centric point of view, with the wall around it barricading me from ever understanding what the world looks like through the eyes of a foreigner. The invisible lines that split up bodies of land into countries may be natural like a river or constructed like the Berlin Wall, but their role as a partition cannot be ignored. Distinctly different languages, cultures and customs exist within the same region of land, and while the lines may seem artificial and arbitrary, the consequent nationalism that accompanies a country is very real and often bloody.
I used a wood-burning tool to create cracks and fissures between the blocks to emphasize the splitting apart. I tied to build a range of density increasing from the middle out and around the perimeter of the board. I applied a dye diluted in water to the sides of each continental piece and Danish Oil varnish to the faces, which accentuated the swirling grain of the burl and heightened the contrast between figure and ground. The resulting effect propels the fragments outward toward the viewer.
Traces of a common language and culture may exist in the annals of history, but the pattern grows increasingly disparate. This piece reflects that by evoking a sense of continental drift, of things gradually becoming more distant from each other. The square tile in the middle symbolizes the individual occupying the center of their own universe. I am an American, and no matter how hard I try to transcend this fact, it will remain a part of me. The connotations are both positive and negative. Much as I may strive to expand my cultural outlook and embrace other ethnicities, I am still at least partially defined by my nationality.
The opposing side is comprised of similar elements and techniques, with a shifting of gestural direction inward instead of outward. The thematic scale is shifted to cosmic level as opposed to a terrestrial one. A sense of a gathering motion and pulling together into a central point is evoked, resembling the gases and debris that swirl toward the gravitational attraction when a planet is formed. The grain direction follows a circular pattern that continues implicitly even when it is absent in the gaps between pieces. In both facets pieces of wood with bark create a perimeter that creates a sense of containment. The exposed laminates in the plywood provides both a formal and conceptual element, as a framing device and imparting the geological effect of plate tectonics. The depth of the layers also alludes to depth of meaning beyond the immediately visible.
Originally I intended this piece to be split into two separate components facing each other instead of away. I decided that unification would serve the best interest of the work. I am constantly discovering overlapping ideas in both my work and research and realized how opposites are reliant on each other. I am reminded of a passage from the Tao Te Ching: “Being and non-being create each other. Difficult and easy support each other. Long and short define each other. High and low depend on each other. Before and after follow each other.”[viii] These two polar extremes are not mutually exclusive, yet they remain tenuously linked, as seen with the broken bent dowels reaching toward each other. They strive to connect, and yet they will never reconcile. The area existing between these two ends of the spectrum is nebulous and vague, and the transparent fabric stretched over the space in between creates this obscurity.
The supporting structure is a secondary aspect to the piece, and I wanted it to blend in while complimenting the point of focus. I cut compound angle miters on the edge of plywood to create two tapered boxes that are attached by a two foot steel pipe threaded on both ends. This pipe plugs into flanges screwed into the top and bottom of both of the boxes elevating the piece to eye level. The moulding functions as a decorative edge banding, concealing the side of the plywood. I applied a dark gel stain finish to the wood to give a consistent uniformity that ties the piece together.
The height is important since I want the work to engage and confront the audience. I hope that the size will attract a viewer from a distance and invite closer scrutiny. I can see the possibility of the work being overwhelming, but I think the option to circumnavigate will allow people the opportunity to find a respite. There is no definite angle of viewing, and I want to provoke a full exploration of the piece from multiple perspectives. This work serves as a composite for many of my conflicted ideas; the chaos is intentional and unavoidable.
Information Overload
I love living in the information age. The influx of data constantly bombards me and I enjoy filtering and processing it all. I think the rate of speed our society has reached exceeds our own capacity to follow it. The human brain is adapting and evolving to intake the inundation of information, and I consider myself lucky to be alive in the twenty first century and young enough to have a familiarity from growing up in the midst of it. I am so fortunate to be living in this time and place, with a wealth of history and culture to extract from. I am inclined to agree with Gottfried Leibniz and his assertion that this is the best of all possible worlds.[ix] Even while satirized in Voltaire’s Candide, the sanguine words of Pangloss ring true for me.[x] This brings me back to the potency of sarcasm, as it often reveals the truth under a guise of mockery.
I refrained from attending college several years after graduating high school, as I considered it a waste of time and money. I was a lousy student in high school, often skipping class to go to the library to read about what I wanted to learn not what I had to learn. I’ve come to realize the value of a collage education, but the information that permeates our world is not confined exclusively to the campuses of these institutions. As long as one is motivated enough to pursue the knowledge, it is usually very easily available. A friend of mine has a degree is sociology and jokes about how useless it is. As far as I’m concerned, I’d rather be an autodidact and borrow a Max Weber book from the library, the only expense being a late fee instead of an exorbitant tuition. Part of my reasoning for attending craft school was the opportunity to have hands on training experience. Reading a book about woodworking and immediately starting a dangerous cut on the table saw sounds like a bad idea.
This accelerated society has a side effect of shortening my attention span. I am bored easily and am constantly craving stimulating new ideas. How do I determine the importance of certain information? My brain discriminates against seemingly useless facts and yet readily absorbs trivial material. The intake valve that receives the flood of data is not under my direct control.
I open-minded but selective, as I have a thorough understanding of my opinion. My taste is flexible, and although I try to avoid making snap judgments, first impressions usually determine whether something appeals to me. I approach fresh subjects with an innocent curiosity, and aware of my ignorance. In Don DeLillo’s White Noise two characters are discussing the collective experience of natural disasters seen artificially through a television screen: “This is what comes from the wrong kind of attentiveness. People get brain fade. This is because they’ve forgotten how to look and listen as children. They’ve forgotten how to collect data.”[xi]
The creation of art is the only sensible reaction to the abundant flow of information that surrounds me. Marshall Mcluhan once said: “Information overload is pattern recognition.”[xii] As an artist I am constantly seeking new patterns. I notice the overlapping links that connect the information swirling in the maelstrom, and this chain reaction creates a mnemonic device of a frame of reference. Consequently I am always craving the unfamiliar; when the commonalities confirm the known, the unknown is desired. I am humbled by Socrates’ epistemology, and that “the only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” Language and specifically words are the external embodiment of this knowledge. Each individual is a vessel that carries this baggage that steadily accumulates over the course of a lifetime.
The Accumulation of Edification
All of these thoughts led me to my second piece, called The Accumulation of Edification. The focal point of this work is a central column with extensions projecting out of it incrementally that create a spiral staircase effect. As we grow older and wiser, our ability to process the influx of information improves. The bulbous ends of each step symbolize the collection of this data expanding gradually over time. The tubes absorb information from the pool upwards through capillary action. Shreds of letters are suspended in a water clear urethane resin, extracted from the vast reservoir of data. The thicker tubes progress thinner, as the older we get the more discriminating we become about our intake, choking off this mechanism. A baby is constantly bombarded with new sensory stimuli, and this is represented by the lowest outcropping with the thickest pipe. Tiny holes are drilled into the sensors to suggest a porosity that soaks up the information.
The terrain surrounding the tower consists of the familiar material of plywood ground away to reveal the laminates, suggesting erosion and the passing of time. I applied a marine grade epoxy resin to the surface of the valley so a pool of water could be an element to the piece. The addition of glycerin inhibits the evaporation, and prevents the growth of bacteria.
I applied a dye stain to tower consisting of a mixture of red and brown pigments to create an earth tone. Initially I considered using a straight red color, which often has the association with blood. I didn’t want to dismiss the idea prematurely, but I was averted by potentially violent connotations. The nourishing qualities of blood would be difficult to convey, and the striking vibrancy of red would most likely be distracting visually.
I created a gradation of color starting with the most saturation at the tips of the bulbs, and progressively diluting the dye to a lighter hue closer to the point of extension. Round each of these joints the light pinkish color of the arm bleeds into the brown of the column creating a transition that integrates the outgrowths with the tower.
I carved two recesses that spiral up the length of the column, and the resulting trail emphasizes a sense of motion and mirroring the upward direction of the protrusions. The path begins and ends with a small bud, suggesting a renewed growth as one becomes enlightened through life experience.
I had second thoughts about the inclusion of the plastic tubes as well, on account of the possibility of natural and synthetic elements clashing. After some deliberation I came to the conclusion that they would serve the best interest of the piece. From earliest design stages I wanted to incorporate text in some way without being literal, and the shredded pages seemed like the proper way to accomplish this. This addition was integral from the beginning, and also references Derrida’s deconstruction by breaking down language into fragments.
The Microscopic Analysis of Objectivity
The third and final piece titled The Microscopic Analysis of Objectivity elaborates on the previously addressed notion of underlying meaning beyond the immediately ostensible. The piece resembles a microscope, oriented at a slight vertical angle, and positioned so the viewer can look down into it. I almost made it horizontally to be viewed sideways, but decided against it after considering the variable of the audience’s height. I also toyed with the idea of making two points of observation to give a sense of each individual’s outlook and the impossibility of identical perspective. I rejected this as well after deciding that each perception is already so subjective.
I struggled with this piece at first, inhibited by the fear it would become redundant or out of place alongside the other two. I determined that I was building three pieces and I wanted them to coexist well with each other. The piece was at risk of becoming an obligation and a potential series of afterthoughts.
The material presented problems as well; the plywood I bought was badly warped. Consequently the lengthy compound miter angles became impossible to cut smoothly, and gapped horribly and the ends of each panel. I was reluctant to simply accept this defect and resort to trying to make it look intentional. I certainly didn’t want a mistake dictating the course of the piece this early. Throughout my years at OCAC I have constantly fought the temptation to hide flaws by embellishing them into the aesthetic. Old habits die hard, and I became frustrated with myself for building the final piece of my BFA so sloppily. The craftsman side of me cringed at the sight of these boards haphazardly glued and nailed together, but I consoled myself with the fact that I am making sculpture, not fine furniture.
I ground down the areas that split, pushing the damage further and creating the familiar appearance of exposed ply laminates. The bulk of the work is a tapered box with open ends, the bottom one leading following the tapers into a separate piece that comes to a point like a pyramid. This tip is a metaphor of the invisible “thing in itself” that we can never truly see. Inside the upside down pyramid is the end of the tunnel that extends through from the top of the other container. A small disc of mirrored Plexiglas is attached to the bottom, alluding to the inaccuracy of our perceptions that reflect back on the eye of the beholder and rendering complete unbiased objectivity impossible.
I bent wiggle wood into a circular shape and stretched silk over it to create a filtering lens that obstructs the visibility into the tunnel. A faint glint of light from the mirror is seen through this mesh that will hopefully intrigue the curiosity of the viewer.
A crack down the front allows light to penetrate through the fabric stretched over it. The symbolism of this schism is found throughout my body of work, conveying the rift between each individual that we can only try to transcend through communication.
Fragments of plywood partially cover the top end, with the shards getting pulled down into the tunnel suggesting some kind of gravitational force. Since this is point of observation, these pieces suggest the disjointedness of a compound eye. This scattered effect will provide an interesting contrast to the linear direction the hole takes you down.
The expression “tunnel vision” came into my head while building this piece and I think it carries relevance. We often see with our peripheral vision blinded, oblivious to experiences outside our self. We may try to surpass this self -centered tendency through things like empathy, but we can never truly see the world through another’s eyes.
Structurally steel brackets that reinforce the wooden joinery stabilize the piece. This foreign material imparts a mechanical appearance, which I personally find attractive. I believe it may also benefit the interactive nature of the work, giving it an inviting functionality.
The curves of the legs give an animated quality to the piece, without making it too “creature-esque.” I am surprisingly happy with the outcome of this sculpture, considering my initial concerns. It looks enough like an enigmatic device without being quirky and doesn’t immediately reveal its purpose.
I do worry that all three of my pieces could be dismissed as too oblique or surreal, but I am honestly comfortable and satisfied with my execution. The ideas brewing in my head have manifested themselves through art, and there is always something very cathartic about that process.
Final Thoughts
I consider myself to be in a very privileged position as an artist. I am not a scientist or a philosopher, but the discoveries in these fields provide me with a wealth of fertile ground to build art. I never really expected myself to stumble upon any groundbreaking illuminating theory, and I am left with more questions than answers at this point. Throughout the past few months I have grappled with my own personal understanding of language and made insights into my relationship with it. The concepts I study serve as a foundation to each piece, and fuel the creative drive. The transition between these internal theories and the resulting tangible art is a difficult leap to make, but I am pleased with how I accomplished it.
As fascinating as I find linguistic theory I am ready to move beyond these ideas. I foresee my next body of work distancing itself from the heavily conceptual. Being overly aware of the deceptive nature of communication will only impair and blur the messages I send. My alienating cynicism will only worsen at this rate.
My thesis year as a whole has been very fulfilling. The first three years of my education were filled with learning the fundamental technical skills and projects with some degree of limitations. Being able to revel in pure sculpture was extremely refreshing. I feel a strong familiarity with wood as material, which lends itself to an improvised creativity. I felt a stronger sense of confidence during the early phases of each piece, where I used to feel intimidation and inhibition.
One journey is ending and another is beginning. I am grateful to the instructors at the Oregon Collage of Art and Craft and all they have taught me. I have acquired skills that will serve me for the rest of my life. The act alone of working with wood and metal I find very pleasant, and will offer a livelihood in the years to come.
[i] Derrida directed by Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering Kofman 2002 Jane Doe Films
[ii] http://www.languagemonitor.com/
[iii] Writings in General Linguistics, Oxford: Oxford University Press. (2006)
[iv] New Scientist magazine October 2007 Bob Holmes
[v] Kant, Immanuel The Critique of Pure Reason by Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1997
[vi] Population Genetics and Microevolutionary Theory Templeton, Alan R. Wiley-Liss 2006
[vii] Writings in General Linguistics, Oxford: Oxford University Press. (2006)
[viii] Tze, Lao The Tao Te Ching Translated by Stephen Mitchell Harper Collins New York 1991
[ix] Essays on Theodicy, concerning the goodness of god, the freedom of man, and the origin of evil
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm translated by E.M. Huggard Open Court Publishing Company 1988
[x] Voltaire Candide Translated by Lowell Bair Bantam Books New York 1959
[xi] DeLillo, Don White Noise Penguin Group New York 1986
[xii] Marshall McLuhan, Counterblast Toronto: McClelland and Stewart Limited, 1969