John Mason's X pots

Oops... this post was intended for a different blog (thesis in progress), but I suppose as part of Practical Pursuit it does represent 2 activities that are fairly habitual to me: Looking at a lot of art and capturing images and thoughts about those that grab me, for whatever reason. The whole blogging thing is fairly new, so I suppose it's inevitable that I mix up postings once in a while, especially since I have about half a dozen blogs I keep or contribute to!

These two images of John Mason's 'X Pots' (circa 1957) prompted me to see some of the forms I've been using as propellers, rather than stylized flower forms.

Mason uses the X as a visual element in many of his works. As I revisited some of his images, I began to see how he incorporates it, sometimes directly, sometimes more subtley.  A few examples:

Red X, 1996 1.5 metres tall

  2008

1958

(not sure of year, but late 20th, early 21st cent.)

Trans Orb Blue Green with Tracers, 2006 

The Trans Orb seems to take on the feel of a pinwheel, as much as an X or propeller.  Interesting, as I've been looking at the little pinwheels in my studio recently, thinking how similar their form is to some of the props. Curious how context (as well as formal elements of color, surface texture, scale, etc.) can affect perception of form. Curious too the fine lines between object as a threat (prop to manati) and object as means of  opportunity/advancement (props on Titanic) and object as toy (pinwheel). How much is the essence of the object and how much do we bring to it?

Note to self: revisit Bucky Fuller's ideas on divisions of universe (line, intersection, vortices, etc.). there may be some parallel here as forms go from X to prop to pinwheel.....

Just GNR8!

OK, in for a penny, in for a pound.
This is what I get for putting it out to the universe that I want to develop my practice as a maker.

I've been invited to join a small group of artists and designers in a generative workshop designed to create 50 objects in 20 (working) days.  Brainchild of newly minted Industrial Design MFA Jesse Lee Au, Just GNR8 is sponsored by the RIT Center for Student Innovation. (Can I get extra credit for getting 3 separate links in 1 sentence? I would have linked to the ID MFA page, but that'd just be overkill, don't you think?)

ACTION: say YES to opportunities to step outside the comfort zone.
MATERIAL: one goal of Just GNR8 is to stretch the limits of material; I think it may also stretch the limits of this artist!
WORD: looking forward to working with and near other enthusiastic artists and designers - new skills, new tools, new ideas, new inspirations!!!

I'll keep you posted on my experience.

Pausing for Beauty

      Yesterday I was driving home from a friend's house and decided to explore down what looked to be a small country road. It turned out to be about a 2 mile stretch of lightly forested, luxuriously spaced, residential area. The first image that really grabbed me was  a curious piece of crooked rail fence. I slowly continued down the lane, inhaling an intoxicating scent of grass, trees, and (I could swear) sunlight.  It did not take long before I reached the end of the lane and slowly turned my car around to head back out of this impromptu arboreal labyrinth. Midway through my K-turn, I  froze, not believing what I saw. A red bellied woodpecker landed on a branch directly in front of the car. Suddenly I remembered that I had my camera with me. I sat for a moment, weighing the option of snapping a shot through the windsheild or trying to step out without scaring off my subject. Sadly, merely opening the car door was enough to send Woody flying, but at least I did get a fairly good look at him.

It took me about an hour to make my way up the road, because I kept stopping to take shots of the bits of beauty that scattered the side of the road.

   Tiny blue and yellow flowers gathered in every opening between the trees.

At least one tree reminded me of one of my favorite landscape paintings, Gustav Klimt's The Park. This tree brings to mind the two trees/figures in the painting's foreground.

         
Even spider webs stretched between branches were enchanting.

What a wonderful stolen hour for a wandering, a wondering, a brief pause from any other demands of the day. I think I will remember to keep my camera closer more often.

         

What impromptu inspirations grab you during the day? Do you have any habits or practices to help you to take notice more readily?

Material

One part of my studio practice is to hang images that inspire me around my work area. These are a few images I've been looking at in my studio lately: a driftwood sculpture by Isamu Noguchi, the cover of a book about Richard Hirsch's tripod vessels, and a portrait of Martha Graham dancing.

   Link to MOMA page with deets on this Noguchi

These 2 images seem so related to me - and related also in an odd way to the dance of Martha Graham (below).  Look at her foot - isn't that same tension in the detail of the tripod? See the arc of her hand - doesn't Noguchi somehow capture a similar extension in his negative space? The long skirt, the driftwood, the oxide in the hard ceramic surface - don't they each function (on some level?) as material that at once hides and reveals the graceful movement of the dance? 

Somehow the simplicity of form and materials  lends itself to a rich experience of viewing and reflecting.

17th century philosopher Gottfried Leibniz says that any world God created would be good, but He chose specifically to create this world in the most perfect manner,

"that is to say the one which is at the same time the simplest in hypotheses and the richest in phenomena, as might be the case with the geometric line, whose construction was easy, but whose properties and effects were extremely remarkable and of great significance." (Discourse on Metaphysics, VI)

 

What do you think about when choosing to work with a particular material in a particular way?

WORD

A good friend reminds me often, "the conversation continues all around us, whether we choose to participate in it or not."

One way I try to stay (somewhat!) active in contemporary cultural discourse is through Art Theory Summer Camp.

The fabulous Amber Ginsburg brings this project to life each year. A book a month, an hour a week discussion (thank you Skype!) and all sorts of new ideas and connections to make their way into my work all year.

I'll be spending part of this summer with Buckminster Fuller, Bruno Latour, and Slavo Zizek, as well as a few bright and funny fellow readers across the country. 

What are your reading plans for the summer? How do they play into your concept of practice?

Wanderings and wonderings

I've been realizing lately how much impact the time spent outside my studio can have on my work in the studio.
When I lived at the Jersey shore, long walks on the boardwalks (that's Ocean Grove at sunrise in the photo at left) or on the sand provided a way to unwind and find inspiration and insight at the same time. I've come to think of this practice as wanderings and wonderings.
More recently, my wanderings have been mostly around campus. Luckily for me, it is a pretty, park-like setting, complete with small wetlands and nature trails. Whether on my own or with a companion, a half hour in the air seems to clear the head and heart enough to make the next few hours in the studio more productive. At the beach, I am an inveterate shell seeker; here I take a small bag and collect bits of trash that invariably litter the trails. Though I like the idea of providing a small service to the space that sustains me, I've begun to notice even more how it mirrors the meditative practice of seashell hunting. While my left brain is on the lookout for bits of paper, plastic or other garbage, my right brain gets some time to unwind and stretch its legs.
So, is there anything you do outside of the studio that you consider an important part of your overall practice?  To what do you turn when you feel the need to clear your head or take a brief but restorative break?

Value of Play

Recently, I've been giving more thought to the value of play and playfulness in my practice. I'm not talking about whimsical or humorous work; I am referring more to the importance of remembering how to have fun. Though I sometimes fancy myself an amateur philosopher, I have to admit I decided to 'just play' for a bit because I was hitting a wall in the studio trying to figure out what to make, the meaning of the work, and whether or not it successfully embodies the concepts I want to explore. I tell you, I had a headache by the end of most days and much earlier on some!

As the weather has been getting nicer here in western New York, I've been taking more short walks. At first, I was just after a bit of fresh air and a stretch of the legs. One day I realized I was walking as fast as I could, even though I had no particular reason to hurry. Even as I told myself to slow down and take a breath, stop to smell a flower or two I felt my pace physically slow. I noticed small, red-tipped buds on the tree I was passing. Suddenly I remembered how much I loved walking in the woods or on the beach when I was a kid. Few things make me as happy as collecting shells along the shoreline. Sadly, I'm a bit far from the Alantic at the moment, but even the brief walk across campus provides multitudes of details to see. I decided to play a game with myself; I challenged myself to continue walking slowly - I mean church-aisle-procession slowly - all the way back to the studio. Physically, of course, this was quite easy, but with dozens of other people hustling along at a pace on the "Quarter Mile," I wasn't sure I was brave enough to walk so publicly to a different drummer.
Within a minute, I felt more interested in grass blades and budding flowers than in the people hurrying around me. Some tension inside me began to uncoil and I found myself breathing slowly, deeply.
By the time I got back to the studio just a few minutes later, I felt relaxed and energized - a combination I must say has been somewhat elusive lately.
Other ways I've tried to invite the spirit of play have included creating a non-competitive game - complete with dollar store prizes - to play during a recent group critique of my work, creating a new literary genre that involves both appropriation and unwitting collaboration (hey, if you're gonna make stuff up, make it interesting!) I call 'gleaned poetry,' and replacing my studio chair with a large balance ball. Each of these changes has given me a little more energy, a new reason to laugh, and inspired me to think and act creatively throughout each day.

If you don't believe me, check out what some smarter people than I have to say:

Stuart Brown and Tim Brown each had quite interesting views on the topic of play and creativity at the 2008 Serious Play TED conference. You can watch Stuart's video here and Tim's here on Ted.com.

Have fun out there, and let me know what you do to keep your practice playful.