Leslie Hinton
Arth555/Film555
Dr. Cooley
December 17, 2001
Annotated Bibliography
Synopsis of research: In the early part of this term, my interests in autobiographical impulse were in regards to a repetitive process such as mark making . Marks that are considered obsessive. I found the work of Yayoi Kusama, Liza Lau, and Agnes Martin prime candidates for this research project. There was a plethora of information in relation to their work which I began to collect. As this study developed so did the intrigue of how this material would be interpreted by studio faculty within the University that I am currently attending. With encouragement of Dr. Cooley it was decided that I should in fact conduct interviews with these professors. This became a deciding factor to my final research. The amount of information and the richness of what was revealed to me through this personal information on the artist’s approach to their work, their studio space, thought processes behind their work etc. was too important not to include into the presentation. I would have to alter my original premise pertaining to an obsessive style of repetitive mark making ---because I learned from the interviews that none of the artist worked in a similar way as Lau, Kusama, or Martin. I could not find a strong enough relation to the artistic practices of these obsessive practitioners of the mark with the intentional marking of the professors---so I made a decision not to include the first part of my research into the final presentation. Each faculty member has a distinct methodology to their work that has developed after decades of study and practice. I was able to integrate the texts we discussed in class along with find significant correlations between authors and artists. This help further shed light upon their work in terms of the autobiographical impulse.
Lyons, Robert. Personal Interview. November 2007.
This interview proved to be a substantial gain in my research. Firstly he sheds light upon the motivating factors of his artwork, as well as the environment from which he is most inspired/motivated. He gives a history of his process including distinct memories from his undergraduate career. The key points of this interview cause me to sway my presentation on the terms that I find the aspect of work space pertinent as an autobiographical impulse that is a determining factor within the mindset of the artist and is important for the outcome of their work.
Scotchie, Virginia. Personal Interview. November 2007.
This dialogue revealed much about this artist interpretation of everyday objects into her work. Where her forms have originated. This was pertinent to my research on the visual autobiographical documentation. She gave me a background on her history as an artist---with special attention to work ethic and I introduced questions concerning her workspace. Addition incorporating questions concerning mind set before approaching work---what sorts of ’rituals’ or key factors must be in place before attempting to work. Discussion of repetition of form as well as introducing negative space as a way of surface decoration. My research began to sway even further into concerns regarding the artists personal space, where they create, how they approach their work---what must take place before hand.
Schneckloth, Sara. Questionnaire via e-mail. December 2007.
The highlights of this Questionnaire in terms of the responses were Professor Schneckloth’s in-depth description to her artistic practices. Her extreme consciousness and hyper awareness to her physiological connection to her mark making. This type of visual manifesting of memories through her process was invaluable to the research. The concentration of her questioning the idea as the human mind as a storage vessel for memory----out springs her Emotional Reliquaries. Her responses reveal insight into not only to her approach but as well the space in which she creates--regarding it as a sanctuary.
www.saraschneckloth.com. Visited throughout research.
This website further permeated meaning and a backdrop for the questionnaire responses. Giving a greater visual understanding through a well documented portfolio of imagery. This imagery allowed for a better appreciation of the intention for their creation, as well as depicting what Professor Scneckloth’s impulses are as an artists and autobiographically. It proved to be useful as providing pictures for the presentation itself.
http://web.mac.com/ROBERTFLYON/RFLs_Site/Welcome.html. Visited throughout research.
Professor Lyon’s website was a tool of substantial use. In it he gives an artists statement. His justification for the materials that he incorporates in his work. The interests he has in his creative intentions---how this has in fact changed overtime as technological advances have thrusted themselves upon our society. As well this website was important for its images that proved to be useful in the presentation itself.
http://people.cas.sc.edu/scotchie/pages/biography.html. ‘Biographical information on Virginia
Scotchie’
This website was informative in terms of giving accounts of the artist’s areas of interest, inspiration, along with an in-depth bibliography of reviews and periodicals that would further be beneficial to research. Additionally this was a good source for accumulating imagery for the presentation itself along with
Barthes, Roland. Roland Barthes on Roland Barthes.
Excerpts of this were significant in the author’s description of the body as a tool for writing as well as his photographs of his studio space. Once again I found a parallel between his techniques and those described by Schneckloth
Kuhn, Annette. Family Secrets: Acts of Memory and Imagination (London: Verso, 2002)
This article was helpful in it’s mention of memory in terms of creating a huge springboard for creating whether it be through film, texts, or works of art. This was applicable to the information that Sara Schneckloth shared regarding her creative process, her usage of memory as a catalyst for her work.
LeJeune, “The Autobiographical Pact” & “The Autobiographical Pact (bis),” in On
Autobiography (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1989),3- 30 & 119-137
I used LeJeune’s definition of what he describes as falling into the category of autobiographical. Since in my own presentation the term is somewhat broad, I consider an artist space as being autobiographical , thus I needed a broad definition such as LeJeune’s.
Descartes, Rene. Discourse on Method and Meditations on First Philosophy.
I was able to use this text to my advantage when incorporating the material from Robert Lyons interview into the presentation. I found that their philosophy on their work practices similar. Lyon’s longs for solitude and introspection in order to gain momentum for his artistic work. While Descartes similarly relies upon the study of his own self to catalyst him into productivity.
.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Robert Lyon Interview
Leslie Hinton
Arth555/film555
Dr. Cooley
Interview with Robert Lyons
December 2007
LH: what is your studio environment like? How do you interact with the space-behave with the space?
RL: At this point in my career I can afford to have my own studio that is connected to my home. This allows me a great deal of freedom/independence. In graduate school at times it was difficult to work when there was so much activity. I was a lab tech as well. I really need solitude.
LH: Do you have any ‘rituals’ that take place before you begin your creation process?
RL: usually I meditate by sweeping the floor of my studio or by taking long walks—I just need time to be alone and to think.
LH: So basically your saying that you want to get lost in your work—consumed by it? Can you tell by any sort of physiological consequences when you haven’t worked for a substantial amount of time?
RL: It’s my life---it’s what I do, it’s how I connect to myself and to the workd. If I’m not working my hands do tend to become anxious and antsy.
LH: In what way do you use repetition in your work if any? You usually do make series why do you think you work in this way?
RL: Yes repetition has always been important---I think this stems from my minimalist approach. Early on when I began working with clay I would grid out the surface by implementing nails--now when I am working on the lathe I make similar marks by using hand turn ‘wooden stakes’ and making a pattern.
LH: You have said before that you were at one time a painter why did you switch to sculpture?
RL: I guess I just think more three dimensionally---rather than flat ---I enjoy the tactile qualities of sculptural materials. My groupings of work each have their own level of discovery. I try to stay really open to ideas and mediums. What greatly excites me is using new materials and seeing how they react to the process I ensue on them. If I don’t like it I have no problem taking it to the dumpster.
Arth555/film555
Dr. Cooley
Interview with Robert Lyons
December 2007
LH: what is your studio environment like? How do you interact with the space-behave with the space?
RL: At this point in my career I can afford to have my own studio that is connected to my home. This allows me a great deal of freedom/independence. In graduate school at times it was difficult to work when there was so much activity. I was a lab tech as well. I really need solitude.
LH: Do you have any ‘rituals’ that take place before you begin your creation process?
RL: usually I meditate by sweeping the floor of my studio or by taking long walks—I just need time to be alone and to think.
LH: So basically your saying that you want to get lost in your work—consumed by it? Can you tell by any sort of physiological consequences when you haven’t worked for a substantial amount of time?
RL: It’s my life---it’s what I do, it’s how I connect to myself and to the workd. If I’m not working my hands do tend to become anxious and antsy.
LH: In what way do you use repetition in your work if any? You usually do make series why do you think you work in this way?
RL: Yes repetition has always been important---I think this stems from my minimalist approach. Early on when I began working with clay I would grid out the surface by implementing nails--now when I am working on the lathe I make similar marks by using hand turn ‘wooden stakes’ and making a pattern.
LH: You have said before that you were at one time a painter why did you switch to sculpture?
RL: I guess I just think more three dimensionally---rather than flat ---I enjoy the tactile qualities of sculptural materials. My groupings of work each have their own level of discovery. I try to stay really open to ideas and mediums. What greatly excites me is using new materials and seeing how they react to the process I ensue on them. If I don’t like it I have no problem taking it to the dumpster.
Sara Schneckloth Questionnaire
Leslie Hinton
Arth/film 555
Dr. Cooley
Questionnaire for Sara Schneckloth
Do you feel that your work is more about the process or more about the final product?
Both are intertwined - the process is ongoing, with ‘final product’ being more of a resting point rather than an end.
Do you sketch out each piece thoroughly or are you more attracted to an immediacy and spontaneity of your work/ mark making? Would you call the way you work visceral and intuitive?
I like to have a sense of a loose structure in which I can invent and explore the themes that are most relevant, but it is rarely a pre-determined event. Drawing lends itself to this kind of immediacy, in terms of both materials and how they are handled, and there is always the sense for me that I’m witnessing a thought evolve as I work. The initial phases of the process are much more visceral/intuitive than pre-conceived and intellectualized, but there is a moment in which I do come at the work from a more analytic bent.
What sort of information do you think can be revealed to the viewer about you by means of your medium/technique---do you think choice of media can reveal information about the artist? Should a creator be concerned with this information?
Yes and yes to the last two parts. Different mediums require different kinds of patience, planning and precautions - drawing in readily accessible mediums conveys a sense of ease and spontaneity, but there is, I hope, also a sense of mystery in how the raw elements come together in different ways on a surface. Some moments are unmistakably the stuff of ‘traditional drawing’ whereas others are more layered, fused and complicated. If anything, it may give a sense of using the most mundane materials (tempera, charcoal and graphite) to try to generate a unique sense of visual place.
Is there any sort of criteria that must be present in your surroundings in order for you to work---i.e. must you be listening to a certain type of music, using only a particular brand of charcoal, or even wearing a specific hat---anything customary that must occur or be present in order to get connected to your process.
My studio is very much a sanctuary - I have tried to work in other environments but there is something to be said for the safety that comes with the closed door and familiar setting - it allows me to take greater emotional risks with the process, and build on past momentum. I have worked more ritualistically in the past, mindfully occupying a specific mindset as a way to identify the heart of the emotional state I want to explore via the work. Recently, this aspect has fallen away somewhat in a more analytic bent towards exploring new combinations of materials and compositional structures.
A quote from your website : 'My work strives to embody moments of remembering and raise questions about the relationship between the body's physical performance of memory and inscriptive practice' Is this performance one that you do in the privacy of your own studio -I imagine this performance being almost comparable to some sort of way to release an intensity and become in tune with ones subconscious--almost having ritual like qualities ---is this true at all for you? Am I on the right track to understanding your methodologies? -Could your work be considered a manifestation of memories through the act of visual creation? ---What relationship do you want the viewer to have with your work if any at all?
This is a good assessment of how I practice. The mark is very much a product of a body fully engaged in the act of making, and it is a body informed by its history and memory of emotional and psychological experience. I believe memory informs so much of how we move, how we hold ourselves, how we inscribe a surface - by consciously channeling this ‘ritual remembering’ I am hoping to give past experience an imaged present.
"In the gesture of drawing, there abides the question of how human beings hold memory" Your reliquary pieces almost remind me of a vessel holding some sort of intricate web of information, similarly to the way in which the human mind stores memory. Do you think that your art making is a reaction to this storage? It is how you handle being human to a degree?
A complicated question, but basically ‘yes.’ It deserves a longer answer, and is part of a conversation moreso than an essay here, but I will attach a segment of a talk I gave a couple of years ago that speaks directly to this idea.
Can you tell me a little bit about the process surrounding "In Haptic Recall". How long did you work on this piece? From the slide it appears as though there is multiple layering of paper and media. What sort of autobiographical impulse can you say you achieved with this, if any? Does the title explain a recall of a physical touch or are you referencing a mental grasp/touch of a memory? Does the act of repetitive mark making in this piece illustrate any sort of desire to achieve a greater awareness of your own self? Connecting to ones self?
Here is a few pages from the artist talk I mentioned above - I think it gets at the heart of many of the questions - it is a rather long read, but it is fairly on-point in terms of process.
How do we hold memory? Thinking here both literally and figuratively – question functions on two levels - how do we hold the actual stuff, the things, the objects of memory, but also, how do we physically hold on to memory and emotion in our bodies? How do memories hold us?
Article in a few weeks ago in the New York Times Science section on the enteric nervous system – the ‘brain of the gut’ – talks about a related phenomenon – how emotional stress and trauma and anger affect the body, specifically the stomach and intestines. Children whose parents divorce or died while they were young experience greater gastric distress as adults – the article also brings up discussion of butterflies and other physical reactions to stress. Stomach holds emotion first, down to the serotonin. Interesting article about the scientific connection between emotional and physical experience.
It’s along these lines that I started thinking – if I occupy a certain memory, actively grieving, what happens to my body. When you remember times of embarrassment, your face flushes, if you remember excitement or danger or fear your body responds – with adrenaline or muscle tension or a stomach clench. I realized that as I was making these drawings, as I was immersed in the act of seeing and drawing, of remembering and drawing, my body was going through a whole set of reactions and making marks that came out of those physical places of memory. My stomach would hurt, my shoulders would tighten, I would clench my teeth.
Next artistic impulse was to try to visually answer the question – Where do I hold emotional memories in my body, and how? What would it look like to see the container for these emotions?
In answer to that, I started drawing things I called emotional reliquaries. Reliquaries are vessels for holding remnants, or relics, of the dead – they show up in many cultural and religious traditions – in Catholicism – saints have reliquaries that preserve remnants of clothing or possessions or even fragments of bones. They are decorated, often ornate coffers of wood, metal, glass. They are portable sacred containers that hold and protect and venerate what is left behind.
In many African cultures, reliquaries are kept that hold the bones of the ancestors – and tribal initiates interact with the bones as a way to learn family history. I felt like I was keeping my own reliquary in the form of my storage locker – bits of the past safely contained that I was learning from by taking them out one by one.
My reliquaries are done in mixed media – oil, charcoal and pastel on paper - many on toned brown paper. To make them, I occupied the mental space of grief, of loss, of anger and sadness, and tried to draw from the gut – starting with a gesture that carried some of the emotion related to the memory I was feeling – then I consciously built it into a form of a container – adding features that I pulled from the work I did with the inherited objects – adding handles, spouts, mouths, lids, turning them into vessels, literal containers. Most of these images are 30x40 inches in size. Body parts are integrated into some, and the term ‘biomorphic abstraction’ started coming into play in conversation about the work – they are both of the body but invented at the same time. They behave like figures, some feel quite animated, but they are still objects to me, like funerary urns or genie bottles holding something inside. This was a leap for me to move from observation to invention - I was making things up, fusing forms, creating new ones. Again, I would feel like I’d been on an emotional roller coaster after I’d finished one. Whether it showed in the work or not, was another question - sometimes yes, sometimes no. I grew to like or dislike them as figures or characters - some seemed more animated than others, some seemed defiant, others offered a sense of peace.
In this piece, this reliquary, I was working in a much larger scale – this is about 8 feet tall. 5 feet wide, in charcoal. The scale had me jumping, climbing, getting up high, down low. I decided to work in some other imagery – of teeth, flowers, the body, still making it a container – I had been reading a lot about reliquary figures in West Africa – small carved statues that sat on top of reliquary drums that contained human skulls and bones – the figures functioned as intermediaries between the living and the dead, serving as a site for ceremonial offerings and talking to the deceased. I was attracted to this idea of the intermediary object – something that could translate between the states of life and death, inside and outside, and serve as a point of focus or meditation. In a way, that’s what I felt like I was doing with my drawings. They stood in between me and the memory of my family, and it felt like by doing them, I was coming to grips with that separation.
This was also a departure piece for me, in which I realized that I needed to be working much larger as a way to more fully explore this idea of bodily expression of memory. More could come out if I could move in a larger and more expressive way, in effect making it more of a performance – and the drawings could be a record of that performance. In that stroke, my way of telling the story changed again, becoming even more abstract, but even more personal, because I had to get more of my body involved to make the drawings work the way I wanted them to.
I felt timid at first – I was not used to working on a large scale, and felt intimidated by the huge piece of paper. Decided to work on rolls of paper – that way I didn’t feel like I had to meet any specific edge – if I wanted to make a small drawing I could, and if I wanted to make one 20 feet long I could do that too.
What resulted was a body of work I hung as my Masters show this past march, called “working from the reliquary.” It was 11 pieces all executed on scrolls – some fully unrolled, some still concealing some of the image in the roll. All pieces were done with charcoal and pastel on paper – the longest was 17 feet when unrolled.
As you might guess, each piece started with a memory. The process of making the drawings became very ritualized. I would go to the studio and meditate on a particular experience – if something was painful for me to remember, that meant it was fertile territory. This was becoming harder and harder to do often, I’d been in this for about a year and a half now, and that was a sign that I was working through things - it was clear that it was a finite activity. But, when I would feel something in my body, tension, upset, I would make a mark on the page, paying close attention to where the mark was coming from physically. If the memory was marked by anger, the marks were darker and bolder, of sadness, they were lighter, more melancholy, of frustration, they were gnarled and confused. The drawings were begun in a state that was intuitive, automatic, and done in private. I made them on the floor, down on my hands and knees, physically on the paper. It often felt like a dance or wrestling.
Again, the idea of the gesture is central here – making a mark that feels honest and direct, essential. Many of the later marks became intentional, trying to craft a form on top of the gestures – a piece was successful to me if some of the energy of the original gesture carried through. A lot of the time however, a true mark would get buried under overworking, and under more static marks that tried to coach a piece into a certain form. This is I think a continual frustration in drawing – trying to keep a piece animated and alive versus wooden and flat.
I felt like I was acting out my insides and the record was the drawing, and that the drawing was the story.
Like the reliquaries, in some I integrated specific body parts, pelvises, bones, teeth, organs, eyes, mouths. Also like the reliquary containers, these drawings became figures, but they were less literally containers than the previous work – they became to me embodiments of moments of remembering that I could share with others.
They generated a reaction from viewers that indicated that some of the subject matter, some of my story, was carrying across without being literal. Some viewers felt ‘grossed out’ or saddened by the images. Others felt they were simply richly bodily and sensual. Some saw them as direct expressions of pain or suffering or disease - uncontrolled growth - like cancer. Again, the work spurred conversations with people about loss - they would identify with one, and tell me about their own sense of anger, frustration, sadness - for some people the work acted like a mirror - and for me this was one of the most satisfying parts of the whole project - hearing back from people who saw a part of themselves in the work. We tell stories to share common experience, to remind us we are all human, that we all feel pain, we all feel joy.
Arth/film 555
Dr. Cooley
Questionnaire for Sara Schneckloth
Do you feel that your work is more about the process or more about the final product?
Both are intertwined - the process is ongoing, with ‘final product’ being more of a resting point rather than an end.
Do you sketch out each piece thoroughly or are you more attracted to an immediacy and spontaneity of your work/ mark making? Would you call the way you work visceral and intuitive?
I like to have a sense of a loose structure in which I can invent and explore the themes that are most relevant, but it is rarely a pre-determined event. Drawing lends itself to this kind of immediacy, in terms of both materials and how they are handled, and there is always the sense for me that I’m witnessing a thought evolve as I work. The initial phases of the process are much more visceral/intuitive than pre-conceived and intellectualized, but there is a moment in which I do come at the work from a more analytic bent.
What sort of information do you think can be revealed to the viewer about you by means of your medium/technique---do you think choice of media can reveal information about the artist? Should a creator be concerned with this information?
Yes and yes to the last two parts. Different mediums require different kinds of patience, planning and precautions - drawing in readily accessible mediums conveys a sense of ease and spontaneity, but there is, I hope, also a sense of mystery in how the raw elements come together in different ways on a surface. Some moments are unmistakably the stuff of ‘traditional drawing’ whereas others are more layered, fused and complicated. If anything, it may give a sense of using the most mundane materials (tempera, charcoal and graphite) to try to generate a unique sense of visual place.
Is there any sort of criteria that must be present in your surroundings in order for you to work---i.e. must you be listening to a certain type of music, using only a particular brand of charcoal, or even wearing a specific hat---anything customary that must occur or be present in order to get connected to your process.
My studio is very much a sanctuary - I have tried to work in other environments but there is something to be said for the safety that comes with the closed door and familiar setting - it allows me to take greater emotional risks with the process, and build on past momentum. I have worked more ritualistically in the past, mindfully occupying a specific mindset as a way to identify the heart of the emotional state I want to explore via the work. Recently, this aspect has fallen away somewhat in a more analytic bent towards exploring new combinations of materials and compositional structures.
A quote from your website : 'My work strives to embody moments of remembering and raise questions about the relationship between the body's physical performance of memory and inscriptive practice' Is this performance one that you do in the privacy of your own studio -I imagine this performance being almost comparable to some sort of way to release an intensity and become in tune with ones subconscious--almost having ritual like qualities ---is this true at all for you? Am I on the right track to understanding your methodologies? -Could your work be considered a manifestation of memories through the act of visual creation? ---What relationship do you want the viewer to have with your work if any at all?
This is a good assessment of how I practice. The mark is very much a product of a body fully engaged in the act of making, and it is a body informed by its history and memory of emotional and psychological experience. I believe memory informs so much of how we move, how we hold ourselves, how we inscribe a surface - by consciously channeling this ‘ritual remembering’ I am hoping to give past experience an imaged present.
"In the gesture of drawing, there abides the question of how human beings hold memory" Your reliquary pieces almost remind me of a vessel holding some sort of intricate web of information, similarly to the way in which the human mind stores memory. Do you think that your art making is a reaction to this storage? It is how you handle being human to a degree?
A complicated question, but basically ‘yes.’ It deserves a longer answer, and is part of a conversation moreso than an essay here, but I will attach a segment of a talk I gave a couple of years ago that speaks directly to this idea.
Can you tell me a little bit about the process surrounding "In Haptic Recall". How long did you work on this piece? From the slide it appears as though there is multiple layering of paper and media. What sort of autobiographical impulse can you say you achieved with this, if any? Does the title explain a recall of a physical touch or are you referencing a mental grasp/touch of a memory? Does the act of repetitive mark making in this piece illustrate any sort of desire to achieve a greater awareness of your own self? Connecting to ones self?
Here is a few pages from the artist talk I mentioned above - I think it gets at the heart of many of the questions - it is a rather long read, but it is fairly on-point in terms of process.
How do we hold memory? Thinking here both literally and figuratively – question functions on two levels - how do we hold the actual stuff, the things, the objects of memory, but also, how do we physically hold on to memory and emotion in our bodies? How do memories hold us?
Article in a few weeks ago in the New York Times Science section on the enteric nervous system – the ‘brain of the gut’ – talks about a related phenomenon – how emotional stress and trauma and anger affect the body, specifically the stomach and intestines. Children whose parents divorce or died while they were young experience greater gastric distress as adults – the article also brings up discussion of butterflies and other physical reactions to stress. Stomach holds emotion first, down to the serotonin. Interesting article about the scientific connection between emotional and physical experience.
It’s along these lines that I started thinking – if I occupy a certain memory, actively grieving, what happens to my body. When you remember times of embarrassment, your face flushes, if you remember excitement or danger or fear your body responds – with adrenaline or muscle tension or a stomach clench. I realized that as I was making these drawings, as I was immersed in the act of seeing and drawing, of remembering and drawing, my body was going through a whole set of reactions and making marks that came out of those physical places of memory. My stomach would hurt, my shoulders would tighten, I would clench my teeth.
Next artistic impulse was to try to visually answer the question – Where do I hold emotional memories in my body, and how? What would it look like to see the container for these emotions?
In answer to that, I started drawing things I called emotional reliquaries. Reliquaries are vessels for holding remnants, or relics, of the dead – they show up in many cultural and religious traditions – in Catholicism – saints have reliquaries that preserve remnants of clothing or possessions or even fragments of bones. They are decorated, often ornate coffers of wood, metal, glass. They are portable sacred containers that hold and protect and venerate what is left behind.
In many African cultures, reliquaries are kept that hold the bones of the ancestors – and tribal initiates interact with the bones as a way to learn family history. I felt like I was keeping my own reliquary in the form of my storage locker – bits of the past safely contained that I was learning from by taking them out one by one.
My reliquaries are done in mixed media – oil, charcoal and pastel on paper - many on toned brown paper. To make them, I occupied the mental space of grief, of loss, of anger and sadness, and tried to draw from the gut – starting with a gesture that carried some of the emotion related to the memory I was feeling – then I consciously built it into a form of a container – adding features that I pulled from the work I did with the inherited objects – adding handles, spouts, mouths, lids, turning them into vessels, literal containers. Most of these images are 30x40 inches in size. Body parts are integrated into some, and the term ‘biomorphic abstraction’ started coming into play in conversation about the work – they are both of the body but invented at the same time. They behave like figures, some feel quite animated, but they are still objects to me, like funerary urns or genie bottles holding something inside. This was a leap for me to move from observation to invention - I was making things up, fusing forms, creating new ones. Again, I would feel like I’d been on an emotional roller coaster after I’d finished one. Whether it showed in the work or not, was another question - sometimes yes, sometimes no. I grew to like or dislike them as figures or characters - some seemed more animated than others, some seemed defiant, others offered a sense of peace.
In this piece, this reliquary, I was working in a much larger scale – this is about 8 feet tall. 5 feet wide, in charcoal. The scale had me jumping, climbing, getting up high, down low. I decided to work in some other imagery – of teeth, flowers, the body, still making it a container – I had been reading a lot about reliquary figures in West Africa – small carved statues that sat on top of reliquary drums that contained human skulls and bones – the figures functioned as intermediaries between the living and the dead, serving as a site for ceremonial offerings and talking to the deceased. I was attracted to this idea of the intermediary object – something that could translate between the states of life and death, inside and outside, and serve as a point of focus or meditation. In a way, that’s what I felt like I was doing with my drawings. They stood in between me and the memory of my family, and it felt like by doing them, I was coming to grips with that separation.
This was also a departure piece for me, in which I realized that I needed to be working much larger as a way to more fully explore this idea of bodily expression of memory. More could come out if I could move in a larger and more expressive way, in effect making it more of a performance – and the drawings could be a record of that performance. In that stroke, my way of telling the story changed again, becoming even more abstract, but even more personal, because I had to get more of my body involved to make the drawings work the way I wanted them to.
I felt timid at first – I was not used to working on a large scale, and felt intimidated by the huge piece of paper. Decided to work on rolls of paper – that way I didn’t feel like I had to meet any specific edge – if I wanted to make a small drawing I could, and if I wanted to make one 20 feet long I could do that too.
What resulted was a body of work I hung as my Masters show this past march, called “working from the reliquary.” It was 11 pieces all executed on scrolls – some fully unrolled, some still concealing some of the image in the roll. All pieces were done with charcoal and pastel on paper – the longest was 17 feet when unrolled.
As you might guess, each piece started with a memory. The process of making the drawings became very ritualized. I would go to the studio and meditate on a particular experience – if something was painful for me to remember, that meant it was fertile territory. This was becoming harder and harder to do often, I’d been in this for about a year and a half now, and that was a sign that I was working through things - it was clear that it was a finite activity. But, when I would feel something in my body, tension, upset, I would make a mark on the page, paying close attention to where the mark was coming from physically. If the memory was marked by anger, the marks were darker and bolder, of sadness, they were lighter, more melancholy, of frustration, they were gnarled and confused. The drawings were begun in a state that was intuitive, automatic, and done in private. I made them on the floor, down on my hands and knees, physically on the paper. It often felt like a dance or wrestling.
Again, the idea of the gesture is central here – making a mark that feels honest and direct, essential. Many of the later marks became intentional, trying to craft a form on top of the gestures – a piece was successful to me if some of the energy of the original gesture carried through. A lot of the time however, a true mark would get buried under overworking, and under more static marks that tried to coach a piece into a certain form. This is I think a continual frustration in drawing – trying to keep a piece animated and alive versus wooden and flat.
I felt like I was acting out my insides and the record was the drawing, and that the drawing was the story.
Like the reliquaries, in some I integrated specific body parts, pelvises, bones, teeth, organs, eyes, mouths. Also like the reliquary containers, these drawings became figures, but they were less literally containers than the previous work – they became to me embodiments of moments of remembering that I could share with others.
They generated a reaction from viewers that indicated that some of the subject matter, some of my story, was carrying across without being literal. Some viewers felt ‘grossed out’ or saddened by the images. Others felt they were simply richly bodily and sensual. Some saw them as direct expressions of pain or suffering or disease - uncontrolled growth - like cancer. Again, the work spurred conversations with people about loss - they would identify with one, and tell me about their own sense of anger, frustration, sadness - for some people the work acted like a mirror - and for me this was one of the most satisfying parts of the whole project - hearing back from people who saw a part of themselves in the work. We tell stories to share common experience, to remind us we are all human, that we all feel pain, we all feel joy.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Final blog Post
Prior to takng this class I only imagined Autobiography in the realms of written works. Sure Benjamin Franklin, Rousseau, St. Augustine----I could imagine this literature falling into the category of Autobiography----but a film such as Tarnation, Obsessive Becoming, Electronic Diaries?---This might be a stretch. Now I can not stop considering basically every human creation or action in terms of autobiography. What color a person chooses to print out a flyer, the ring they use for their phone, what sitcoms can they just not miss ,etc. etc. I have also become more aware of the viewer----what does the actions of my own self reveal about my background? What sorts of impulse do I partake in---where does this stem from--what am I revealing to the common outsider.
Something about the literature we read, especially Roland Barthes, Jaques Derrida, and Rene Descartes--changed my view point substantially. Descartes methodologies---how he aproaches his own work and research. What circumstances in his life allowed him to arrive at the determination that he must look inside himself in order to make any sense of his surroundings. The information he had gained during his travels and his studies were substantial and pertinent---but as well was his introspection. Jaques Derrida and his considerations of how one reads a work, the keeness of one's ear---how keen is my own ear? Is this applicable to other works besides the written? Can one achieve a state of a keener ear? Roland Barthes punctum and studium. Brings about the topic of when the reader/veiwer is pricked. Does the photographer/creator/writer have any control over this? Should the creator concern himself with this un-contolable punctum that is impossible to predetermine?
This plethora of information has been in the foreground of my mind especially whenever I view a film, artwork, or reading. Although I think its significant to all reading and all seeing---the text on a t-shirt a road sign or billboard----what associations can be made.
As far as how I can apply it to my own projects-- I suppose I have always been an introspective person--but now I have more of a filter or rather I am trying to become more aware of my intentions as a maker. Why am I working with these materials? Why am I interested in these visual texts? What does this particular mark mean--what about this color---how is the viewer going to read this work? As you could easily see by my presentation I am not the most verbally articulate person on this planet---neither have I excelled in terms of writing or have I ever been the swiftest or reader. I have always wanted to used my hand in order to manifest a particular idea or emotion I could not other wise express----this class has made me more concerned in becoming more intuned with the relationship of my work to the viewer as well as more consciencious of my own process.
Interesting for me to work so close at hand to the blackboard software--I typically cringe and refuse to use the computer when I have to. But I was taken aback when I found myself really enjoying this aspect of the class. I think it creates a dialogue with the other students that would have otherwise been lost. As well as a broader perspective of the readings ----additionally causing there to be a platform for discussion during class time. This technique is viable to learning an intense and thought provoking material---feel as though I truly benefited from this style.
Something about the literature we read, especially Roland Barthes, Jaques Derrida, and Rene Descartes--changed my view point substantially. Descartes methodologies---how he aproaches his own work and research. What circumstances in his life allowed him to arrive at the determination that he must look inside himself in order to make any sense of his surroundings. The information he had gained during his travels and his studies were substantial and pertinent---but as well was his introspection. Jaques Derrida and his considerations of how one reads a work, the keeness of one's ear---how keen is my own ear? Is this applicable to other works besides the written? Can one achieve a state of a keener ear? Roland Barthes punctum and studium. Brings about the topic of when the reader/veiwer is pricked. Does the photographer/creator/writer have any control over this? Should the creator concern himself with this un-contolable punctum that is impossible to predetermine?
This plethora of information has been in the foreground of my mind especially whenever I view a film, artwork, or reading. Although I think its significant to all reading and all seeing---the text on a t-shirt a road sign or billboard----what associations can be made.
As far as how I can apply it to my own projects-- I suppose I have always been an introspective person--but now I have more of a filter or rather I am trying to become more aware of my intentions as a maker. Why am I working with these materials? Why am I interested in these visual texts? What does this particular mark mean--what about this color---how is the viewer going to read this work? As you could easily see by my presentation I am not the most verbally articulate person on this planet---neither have I excelled in terms of writing or have I ever been the swiftest or reader. I have always wanted to used my hand in order to manifest a particular idea or emotion I could not other wise express----this class has made me more concerned in becoming more intuned with the relationship of my work to the viewer as well as more consciencious of my own process.
Interesting for me to work so close at hand to the blackboard software--I typically cringe and refuse to use the computer when I have to. But I was taken aback when I found myself really enjoying this aspect of the class. I think it creates a dialogue with the other students that would have otherwise been lost. As well as a broader perspective of the readings ----additionally causing there to be a platform for discussion during class time. This technique is viable to learning an intense and thought provoking material---feel as though I truly benefited from this style.
Reaction to Final post comment
The question of a compulsive repetition versus a more intentional
With the work of Yayoi Kusama and Liza Lau they both have the need to create an environment with their compulsion. Kusama voluntarily lives in a mental institution so that she will have enough time to be alone with her work---this frees her up from making her own meals as well as not having to do the laundary. From childhood as you can view at her website in her early work, she has had 'visions/hallucinations' of the surfaces of her parents home covered with polka-dots. A pencil drawing portrays her mother---the 'normal' rendering--yet imposed in awkard places are these dots. Its always been inherent for her--a short documentary of Kusama wearing a bright red unitard again with these white dots. She is surrounded in a forrest setting--who knows where maybe the red wood national forrest or her back yard. She proceeds to take these cut out dots and with out pausing to ponder their positioning she intuitively swiftly urgently places the dots as high up and on as many trees as possible. She then turns to a cat, then a horse, then a nude man--covering as much of them as they allow. There's something to say about this need ---this impulse. She has created this compulsion ----that inturn has created her----what the name Yayoi Kusama means. It's about the act just as much as it is about the dot.
As far as Liza Lau's work is considered, once again she creates an environment covering surfaces allowing the viewer to become aware of her compulsion. She took part in an interview on NPR's This American Life-----the shows title was 'Obsession' . She provides the listener with the information concerning her work schedule. Most days she would bead for 18 hours blocks. She would sometimes only cover a 5inchx5inch stretch of space. In order to fund this project she would have to sell smaller beaded things--i.e. beaded chairs, beaded dishes, beaded portraits of dead presidents----onlyso she could get enough money to buy more beads--to bead more of her kitchen.
The faculty I discussed in the presentation all have 'intentional' repetition within the grid of the object /sculpture/drawing in which they have created. I find this fascinating that in some way they have formulated a series of rules or laws within their work as to how repetitive marks are going to be made. How they interact with their work is in this way organized to some degree. I can appreciate the methods and feel I have gained a great deal of insight by researching both the compulsive and more intentional. Now that I think about it Kusama is one who teeters in both realms -----I see intentional marks in her paintings as well as her ceramic work---Could one come to the conclusion that the medium for her dictates her response to it in the form of her marks? There is much to say about the intent and a direct reflection of one's life story. The interviews I partook--really allowed me insight into these artist lives--they do reflect off of one another---work as a trace of creator.
With the work of Yayoi Kusama and Liza Lau they both have the need to create an environment with their compulsion. Kusama voluntarily lives in a mental institution so that she will have enough time to be alone with her work---this frees her up from making her own meals as well as not having to do the laundary. From childhood as you can view at her website in her early work, she has had 'visions/hallucinations' of the surfaces of her parents home covered with polka-dots. A pencil drawing portrays her mother---the 'normal' rendering--yet imposed in awkard places are these dots. Its always been inherent for her--a short documentary of Kusama wearing a bright red unitard again with these white dots. She is surrounded in a forrest setting--who knows where maybe the red wood national forrest or her back yard. She proceeds to take these cut out dots and with out pausing to ponder their positioning she intuitively swiftly urgently places the dots as high up and on as many trees as possible. She then turns to a cat, then a horse, then a nude man--covering as much of them as they allow. There's something to say about this need ---this impulse. She has created this compulsion ----that inturn has created her----what the name Yayoi Kusama means. It's about the act just as much as it is about the dot.
As far as Liza Lau's work is considered, once again she creates an environment covering surfaces allowing the viewer to become aware of her compulsion. She took part in an interview on NPR's This American Life-----the shows title was 'Obsession' . She provides the listener with the information concerning her work schedule. Most days she would bead for 18 hours blocks. She would sometimes only cover a 5inchx5inch stretch of space. In order to fund this project she would have to sell smaller beaded things--i.e. beaded chairs, beaded dishes, beaded portraits of dead presidents----onlyso she could get enough money to buy more beads--to bead more of her kitchen.
The faculty I discussed in the presentation all have 'intentional' repetition within the grid of the object /sculpture/drawing in which they have created. I find this fascinating that in some way they have formulated a series of rules or laws within their work as to how repetitive marks are going to be made. How they interact with their work is in this way organized to some degree. I can appreciate the methods and feel I have gained a great deal of insight by researching both the compulsive and more intentional. Now that I think about it Kusama is one who teeters in both realms -----I see intentional marks in her paintings as well as her ceramic work---Could one come to the conclusion that the medium for her dictates her response to it in the form of her marks? There is much to say about the intent and a direct reflection of one's life story. The interviews I partook--really allowed me insight into these artist lives--they do reflect off of one another---work as a trace of creator.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Presentation Tomorrow!!!
Last Post for Final Presentation
So as I am wrapping up the final details of my powerpoint for tommorrow----I am coming to the conclusion that there might not be enough time to touch on the artist Kusama and Lisa Lau . The information I have gathered from the three interviews have proven to be more informative than I had imagined. My original intention was the discussion of repetitive mark making as a means of artistic impulse---I am very intrigued by the obsessive working habit of Kusama and Lau. Because Kusama voluntarily lives in a mental institution and it is common knowledge that she has regular hallucinations along with being extremely temperamental---I did not know how to approach my professors without them thinking that I was comparing them to some 'emotionally turbulent' Japanese artist without sounding offensive. After the first interview with Virginia Scotchie---I saw that her work does incorporate the methodology of repetition in her zealous creation of the form---but of course in a less compulsive sense as Kusama. She revealed a great deal of information surrounding her approach to process. This was when an epiphany occured---I am attracted to understanding the logistics needed to create the work. I think my intrigue about Kusmama and Lau was due to the idea that it is a rare occurrence to find work patterns such as these.
My questions began to sway towards asking more about their studio space---are there any 'rituals' that must take place inorder for them to feel comfortable enough to work---what sorts of events from their past help in the development of their current practices-In a way my questions were formed by their previous answer –Maybe the ‘punctum’ of their answer resulted in my next curiosity--and I eventually came around to asking questions pertaining to repetition. My second interview was with Bob Lyon. It was easier for me to develop questions for these two faculty since I have know them for two years, taken classes with them, and are constantly around their work especially when it comes to Virginia Scotchie. Lastly---unfortunately I was embarrassingly late on giving Sara Schneckloth her questionaire---her responses were so insightful. Its amazing to look at a person's work after having that sort of background knowledge-a change occurs. From the point when all three interviews were complete I began to analyze and apply our readings to each individual artist. For Scneckloth I began to see a correlation between her methodologies and that of Roland Barthes and Annette Kuhns. Barthes because of his referencing to the physical body---how to 'write the body'. How his physical body plays an important role in his writing--as well as the importance his studio is for his work. Kuhns due to her topic of memory ---how she enlist memory as a tool in her work. On an uncanny parallel Schneckloth relies on memory, the pysiological self, and the santity of her studio for her process. Pertaining to Bob Lyons approach to his work, it is reminiscent of Rene Descartes. Descartes acknowledges the importance of his academic upbringing, study of language as well as his travels. "After I had thus spent some years studying the bok of the world, and trying to aquire some experience, one day I resolved also to study within myself, and to use all the forces of my mind to choose the roads I should follow" (Descartes). Almost verbatum Lyons relayed the same message to me. The most crucial part about his process is the time that he has alone to reflect and for meditation. As far as Virginia Scotchie is concerned---her work is based upon this idea of what she has termed 'swiping' in my presentation I correlate this with Walter Benjamin's idea of remediation. Although this type of remediation does not involve an entire society---it pertains to the individual artist. Professor Scotchie being trained in production pottery---using the technology of the wheel--the technical skills she gained from her studies---and appling her own personal technology this swiping/grabbing from the object world. Her work is based on the everyday object. The irony about it is the fact that she will throw a tradition form on the wheel but distort it so that it looses function---this is a deliberate commentary on the technology of throwing. Scotchie's repetition comes with the practice of surface implements whether it be adding numerous knobs, spouts, or drilling out polka-dots---this is partially to deny the form traditional use--I would not consider it obsessive---as in Kusama's work.
In all three of the interviews I became aware that their treatment of studio space along with how they function within that environment was in fact an autobiographical impulse. Scotchie growing up with six other children -never being alone, tidiness reflects immediately in her studio. Both Lyon and Schneckloth prefer the solitarity of their space---the quiet time of self reflection/contemplation. The way in which these three artists view their final work---their use of tools---their idea of the viewer--materials--It became apparent to me immediately that all these aspects of the creator reveal an autobiographical impulse that is pertinent to the process.
So as I am wrapping up the final details of my powerpoint for tommorrow----I am coming to the conclusion that there might not be enough time to touch on the artist Kusama and Lisa Lau . The information I have gathered from the three interviews have proven to be more informative than I had imagined. My original intention was the discussion of repetitive mark making as a means of artistic impulse---I am very intrigued by the obsessive working habit of Kusama and Lau. Because Kusama voluntarily lives in a mental institution and it is common knowledge that she has regular hallucinations along with being extremely temperamental---I did not know how to approach my professors without them thinking that I was comparing them to some 'emotionally turbulent' Japanese artist without sounding offensive. After the first interview with Virginia Scotchie---I saw that her work does incorporate the methodology of repetition in her zealous creation of the form---but of course in a less compulsive sense as Kusama. She revealed a great deal of information surrounding her approach to process. This was when an epiphany occured---I am attracted to understanding the logistics needed to create the work. I think my intrigue about Kusmama and Lau was due to the idea that it is a rare occurrence to find work patterns such as these.
My questions began to sway towards asking more about their studio space---are there any 'rituals' that must take place inorder for them to feel comfortable enough to work---what sorts of events from their past help in the development of their current practices-In a way my questions were formed by their previous answer –Maybe the ‘punctum’ of their answer resulted in my next curiosity--and I eventually came around to asking questions pertaining to repetition. My second interview was with Bob Lyon. It was easier for me to develop questions for these two faculty since I have know them for two years, taken classes with them, and are constantly around their work especially when it comes to Virginia Scotchie. Lastly---unfortunately I was embarrassingly late on giving Sara Schneckloth her questionaire---her responses were so insightful. Its amazing to look at a person's work after having that sort of background knowledge-a change occurs. From the point when all three interviews were complete I began to analyze and apply our readings to each individual artist. For Scneckloth I began to see a correlation between her methodologies and that of Roland Barthes and Annette Kuhns. Barthes because of his referencing to the physical body---how to 'write the body'. How his physical body plays an important role in his writing--as well as the importance his studio is for his work. Kuhns due to her topic of memory ---how she enlist memory as a tool in her work. On an uncanny parallel Schneckloth relies on memory, the pysiological self, and the santity of her studio for her process. Pertaining to Bob Lyons approach to his work, it is reminiscent of Rene Descartes. Descartes acknowledges the importance of his academic upbringing, study of language as well as his travels. "After I had thus spent some years studying the bok of the world, and trying to aquire some experience, one day I resolved also to study within myself, and to use all the forces of my mind to choose the roads I should follow" (Descartes). Almost verbatum Lyons relayed the same message to me. The most crucial part about his process is the time that he has alone to reflect and for meditation. As far as Virginia Scotchie is concerned---her work is based upon this idea of what she has termed 'swiping' in my presentation I correlate this with Walter Benjamin's idea of remediation. Although this type of remediation does not involve an entire society---it pertains to the individual artist. Professor Scotchie being trained in production pottery---using the technology of the wheel--the technical skills she gained from her studies---and appling her own personal technology this swiping/grabbing from the object world. Her work is based on the everyday object. The irony about it is the fact that she will throw a tradition form on the wheel but distort it so that it looses function---this is a deliberate commentary on the technology of throwing. Scotchie's repetition comes with the practice of surface implements whether it be adding numerous knobs, spouts, or drilling out polka-dots---this is partially to deny the form traditional use--I would not consider it obsessive---as in Kusama's work.
In all three of the interviews I became aware that their treatment of studio space along with how they function within that environment was in fact an autobiographical impulse. Scotchie growing up with six other children -never being alone, tidiness reflects immediately in her studio. Both Lyon and Schneckloth prefer the solitarity of their space---the quiet time of self reflection/contemplation. The way in which these three artists view their final work---their use of tools---their idea of the viewer--materials--It became apparent to me immediately that all these aspects of the creator reveal an autobiographical impulse that is pertinent to the process.
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