My new installation is a very subtle and complex work of
art. Many who visited the opening were confused and did not understand the
meanings in the work. It was very common for people to rush in and out, only
spending a short time looking at the installation. There was often a lack of
serious consideration given to the artwork, rarely was any time taken to just
experience the environment, taking in the entire installation, absorbing the
myriad of sensory stimuli in the space. I was often asked, “What’s it about?”
as the visitor just wanted the quick answer, for me to simply tell them my
ideas. To do that would defeat the making of the art, the delivery of my ideas
through beautiful environments. When I create an installation, I compose the
entire environment, directing the visitor’s experience, so it is somewhat
disrespectful when a visitor does not take the time to actually look at what I’ve
done. Why are you here? I do not understand this mentality, this lack of
attention. I assume these are folks out on the First Friday Art Walk, so they must
be interested in art. They may just be unfamiliar with, or unaware of, how to
look at art. It appears that there is a lack of motivation to investigate, to
explore, engage and enjoy strange or confusing artworks. Where is the creative
curiosity? Perhaps a person’s ego is bruised by this confusion, experiencing a feeling
of stupidity because they do not understand, and this puts them off. But, do
not make the mistake of confusing the subtlety of the work as some high brow,
over intellectualized “art-speak”. My
ideas behind the work are persistent human emotions, issues and conditions
common to all, and if the viewer would only take the time to experience the
work, in its entirety, they would arrive at the answers themselves. Any work of
art, will, of course, always be an individual experience, so my ideas are not
necessarily the ones the viewer will arrive at, but once an installation is
truly experienced, the messages and emotions and thoughts created in the viewer
become valid as well. Being in the west, in the lesser populated heartland of
our country, there is a bit of a disconnect with the rest of the contemporary
art scene found in major cities (NYC, LA, Chicago), so the reactions of my
public does not surprise me. It is confounding though. (I will digress here no
further, for more discussions see other &/ future posts.) So, to aid in the
reception of my work, I will explain it, in an attempt to educate my audience,
and perhaps, some will be intrigued enough to want to see it (again).
Moving Pictures, Take Two
Meditations, 2012
The space is small, sparsely
furnished, with minimalistic objects and sensory stimuli. There is an intimate
feel of an alter space, with the dramatic black curtains on each side of a
white cloth panel in which the short film is playing in a loop. The white cloth
cascades out into the small room in a wrinkled watery stroke. A small battery
operated candle flickers artificially in the middle of this ‘stream of cloth’.
The edges are defined with two white ‘columns’, haphazardly leaning against the
walls. Opposite the video is a sterling silver necklace with a baby shoe charm,
and upon further inspection, it is revealed to contain the artist’s blood. This
small object is lit with a spotlight to accentuate its importance in the
installation, its placement opposite the video purposefully used to contrast
the ready made object with the created object. There is also a small table with
a simple tin tray with bread and small cups filled with wine. There is a small
didactic, similar in size to a prayer book, listing the installation materials*,
and stating to “please use reverence” if one is going to imbibe in the
proffered bread and wine as a sacred sacrament. This is the single sign directing
the visitor to the importance of their interaction with the work, or not, as
the case may be, and to be aware of the reasons behind their choice.
The
short film is a digital collage made with an iPhone camera,
using an 8mm film application, and has a vintage feel, being black and white,
dust scattered through out and a jumpy, frame skipping look. This artificial aged
feel is purposeful, used to instill a sense of nostalgia in the work, a
timelessness, and something coming from long ago, giving the work the
appearance of traveling through time, yet actually being a false indicator,
made as is was with a modern device. The
3 minute film begins with a blank shot, a rhythmic beating of shadows against a
white background, really bringing again, the artificial aging, and digital
creation, with its ‘dust’ and ‘projector’ noise to the viewers attention. The
image is what one might see upon waking in the room, opening the eyes,
beginning the day, the bare ceiling filling the entire frame, with only a bit
of the wall grounding the imagery like a landscape. The next scene is a quiet
shot of a stark and empty table and chair, cast with a dramatic black shadow,
cutting the round table not quite in half. This could feel like a lonely time,
but my intention was one more of reflection, and meditation (thus the name,
Meditation 2012, part of the
Moving Pictures series). The round lines
in the chair and table contrast with the sharp straight line created by the shadow
on the table. There is an interrupting triangle of another shadow, just
breaking the edge of the frame, with other straight shapes distracting the
viewer. The stillness and length of the shot, the slight, slow movement in a
circle, all are commentaries on the quietness of the moment, perhaps a morning
ritual, or a time ‘at the table’, a place for sustenance. The last shot of this scene is one from a
distance, and we see the doorway, and the intersection lines forming a cross in
the reflections on the French door. The doorknob a round point in the frame,
moving slowly in and out to draw the viewer’s attentions, foreshadowing what’s
to come.
Midway through the film the scene cuts to a shot looking out
the window, now the dominant shape is the square, the strong white lines
creating multiple crosses, the ‘outside’ is introduced, as the view looks out
the window. There is a very subtle, slow drawing in and out, almost peering
out, but then drawing away, moving forward and back, like a breath; it is a preparation of sorts, a conscious
change of thought from the previous scene at the table, one of the ‘self’, and
now is shifting to thoughts of the ‘other’. This is continued in the next scene
shift, taking the viewer on a slow progressive journey from inside the home,
out into the community. However, there is a reluctance, a hesitancy, even as
the pace of the film begins to pick up. The scene is that of a closed door,
with its fairly uninviting feel, shot from the distance as it is, and the noise
taking on a low volume roar of space. The stagnation is broken in the last 30
seconds of the film by a dramatically different scene with movement, as the
viewer is ‘walked’ out of the courtyard. We see again the windows, but from the
outside now, and only in passing glances. The strong white lines of the columns
as they pass by are symbolic of the daily duties, and responsibilities of daily
life, the scene ending with a pan to the sky, a symbolic ‘going out into the
world', and finally the film culminates in a final still view of the portico of
a church, linear columns holding up gently curved archways, and a reverent
statue of St. Francis barely discernible in the shadows, signifying an arrival,
a finding of ones place, a relaxing celebration with the first obvious sounds
heard, those of birds, and with it, a peaceful feeling of freedom finally
arriving, as the film washes out.
The overtly religious symbols I use in the film are there to
direct the viewer to spirituality, but it need not be necessarily Christian; it
can be any sort of spiritualism. The work was opened on Good Friday, probably
the holiest day in the Christian faith. I reference the Christian story of God’s
giving of the Son with the repeated use of the iconic visual symbols, the cross, and communion
cups, accentuating the sacrifices that were made for the sins of humankind, and
the forgiveness that is given through God’s gesture. The ritualistic
re-enactment through communion, is highlighted with the objects associated with
that ritual, also offered as sustenance and refreshment, and an offering to the
visitor. The white cloth on the floor is a symbolic of the parturition, and Mary's sacrifices she was required to make. I wanted to spotlight the sacrifices we all make, and as a symbolic gesture
of my own, drew my own blood for the work. Another message in the work is also
one of forgiveness, something everyone needs, even giving grace to ones self.
We are all lost children, who suffer through our own sins and mistakes. We all
sacrifice ourselves as adults for our own children, or others, spilling our own
blood. These things I touch on through the purposeful use of the particular
objects in the space. I also point out that this is not a holy space, though
the obvious artificiality of some of the objects. The fake old style modern
technology used to make the film, the candle not being a real candle and the columns
not really there, all remind the viewer that it is a work of art and not a
sacred place, as it can be anywhere. It is offered as an opportunity to be used
as a spiritual space, but more importantly I want the viewer to take away enlightenment
within themselves, about sacrifice, forgiveness, and finally acceptance and
peace.
*Installation Materials:
3 minute 7 second looped black and white video
Black and white cloths
White columns
Bread and wine offering
Silver necklace with baby shoe charm
Candle
The artist's blood
