Archive for the ‘Intellectual’ Category

At the Guggenheim ~ Museums and Art Alienation

Guggenheim Rotunda. Photo by Robert C, c-monster.net

I have often found myself in front of a museum canvas – a Titian, an Ingres, a Pollock, what have you – deadly thumbing the vibrant band of beads around my neck, which only moments before had given pure delight.  All senses vanquished. Just numb.

Or dumb?

Why can’t I be moved?  Why doesn’t this priceless work captivate me? Where has the damn luster in my necklace escaped?

This art is better than I am.  It knows more than I.  Other people feel it, get it. I know it’s worth more than I could ever amount.  The auction records say so! It’s in a museum.

And here I say this, hailing from an educational and professional background that would assume otherwise.

Today, at the Guggenheim Museum, I learned just why I don’t get it.  Why sometimes others may not get it, though don’t propose to confess.

On participation (not view) is a conceptual work by Tino Sehgal.  The entire Frank Lloyd Wright-designed rotunda has been stripped bare of all material works.  In its place, Sehgal has hired and trained area youth and adults to interact with museum visitors on a purely verbal plain.  There is nothing concrete to have, nothing one can buy.

You become the work.  You create.  You matter.  You become the matter.

This is how art moved – moved me ~

Mise en scene: I enter museum rotunda and begin the slow, spiral journey upward.  Enter Eric, an 8-year old boy. He is abrupt and stuns me.

Eric: What is progress?

Me: What? Ummmm. Hmmm. Well, okay, to me our view of progress is troubled.  Is progress always moving away from something, assuming that the next thing is better? What’s the proof?  What if it were progress to go back in history and live like farmers?  But that’s not how I’ve been trained to think of progress.

Eric: (He’s been listening intently).  Let me see if I understand?  (He repeats what I said, seeming to process its meaning).

(Eric is approached by a young girl named Fatima.  She’s in middle school.  Eric tells Fatima what I said.  Eric leaves and Fatima continues to walk with me around the rotunda.)

Fatima:  I’ve not heard that view of progress before.  I get it! I really do! Is progress what Government is doing today by bringing back Roosevelt’s New Deal tactics?  Is it good to reissue methods used during the Great Depression today?

(Fatima is met by Mark.  Mark is tall and skinny, probably in his early-30s).

Mark:  Is it bad when preferences become rules?

Me: Oh my God, that’s a great question.  I guess preferences quickly become defense mechanisms, shutting you down?

The dialogue continued onward to the rotunda dome.  I was exhilarated, moved, scared, alive!  As I made my way slowly down the rotunda ramp, I shouted to Mark, “This is progress!”

I didn’t feel art-alienated anymore.  I mattered.  I made “matter.”  I feel the same way when I craft.

I’m ready to go back to the museum canvas.

Similar art ailment? I could be alone.

De Sign

I have often worried that design, a word I use as casually as the requisite articles a/an/the, had to be greater than the thoughtless contexts I accord with its name.  It is true, I have been guilty of emptying meaning in service of a simple way to express what I really see when I look about. So, I resort to exclamation points and ohh ahhhs.

A recent, soul-warming coffee clutch with a special blogpreneuse* at Wall Street’s Le Financier put words to my intellectual and, so it feels, spiritual conundrum.  Design talk is my cursory attempt to confer and convey significance without working on the substance beneath. In my world, you can believe I am always wearing a designer dress.

My way threatens to de sign design, to eradicate the historical, political, and social roots by looking into its shiny surface for the perfect reflection of myself.

From 2010 forward, I challenge myself to look beyond the surface, to research the antecedents of my visual desire and to know the history and emotions that thrust the object into my orbit.

I leave to you an excerpt on the etymology of design~

from its Greek definition, design is about incompleteness, indefiniteness, or imperfection, yet it also is about likelihood, expectation, or anticipation.  In its largest sense, design signifies not only the vague, intangible, or ambiguous, but also the strive to capture the elusive./Translating the etymological context into English, it can be said that design is about something we once had, but have no longer.

Dear Designers, Artists and Crafters,

How do you lend meaning to the objects before you?

*The special someone I speak of is @abcddesigns.  Find her.

Clueless Goes to Miami

art basel

This turkey is off to baste in the Miami sunshine.  That’s right, ladies and lads, tomorrow I’ll be  up with the roosters and on my way to Art Basel Miami Beach, an international contemporary art fair with more than 250 premier galleries in attendance.

My descent on Miami symbolizes the culmination of my graduate studies, a chance to see the art market in action.  But I come from two camps:  one that views art outside the realm of commerce – the art historian side; the other that knows that art and artists need the market to survive. Before the credit crash, Basel (marketers) and others glorified art as commodity, promoting fairs as playgrounds for the wealthiest – often with precarious egos; some without apprehension of art and its history –  to mental masturbate en masse (“hobnob,” I believe is the appropriate term).  Art, so it seemed, was not the primary reason to be there.  Hmmm.

elle decor miami

art basel cartier

Has economic  hardship changed the face of the art world?  The meaning of art?  Respect, appreciation and knowledge of art and artists?  These are the thoughts that frequently mill through my mind, and will be when I meander through the booths at Miami.

art booth

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to pack, preen, slap on a fake tan, grow some breasts, and craft a few art-conversation topics to hobnob with those who may be more clueless than I.  Wink and a nod.  Oh yeah.

What say you about art and the market?  Blurt out the first word that comes to mind.

See New York Magazine’s Holiday in the Sun, a good read for the uninitiated.

What-if Holidays

With Thanksgiving 2009 in the bag and my feeling a bit more like one, I have had a precious moment to reflect.

The fete commenced Wednesday night with the requisite - if you’re a New Yorker, a bit whimsical, and have a brood of kiddies –  visit to the Macy’s Parade balloon blow-up headquarters on the perimeter of the American Museum of Natural History.  What a blow out!  Indebted to a playful Blogher contributor and friend Suzanne Reisman who hosted a party for the event, the hubby and I experienced our first rain-soaked, festive gathering of thankful Manhattanites who, like me, worship Papa Smurf.

Papa Smurf and lots of rain

Big Daddy Smurf

Arriving home late, we shifted into pack-for-the-6am flight-to-the-in-laws-in-Chicago mode.  In an out of character move, I gave no advanced thought about what to wear for Thanksgiving.  Game plan: go with the gut.  After all, that’s what a good part of the holiday centers on.  Amongst an abundance of dresses, tops, shoes, tights and accessories, I stuffed the luggage full of whatever seemed right.  With the last zip of the London Fog travel gear, we were off.

As dawn broke outside the window of seat 24B, it, well, dawned on me that something unusual had happened.  I turned to hubby, poked his shoulder, and shouted with a fusion of awe and glee that I think I had dressed like a turkey.  Huh, he says?!

What-if holidays we dressed the part?

Thankfully it was not a literal interpretation, rather a mere channeling of the Thanksgiving spirit, but it was a significant “coincidence” that warrants an extra forkful of sharing.

* The layered ruffles of the J.Crew dress with iridescent purple and chartreuse hues look a tad like the plumes of feathers on the turkey’s bodice, right?

* The striped turtleneck could be mistaken for the wings or tough dark skin on its legs, no doubt?

* The patent leather brown oxford shoes with the talon heel, could they not be the bird’s feet?

* And, c’mon, the rose scarf hanging loosely around the neck?  Is that not the turkey’s wattle?

When the ensemble that emerged from my suitcase was fully arranged, I and my wattle had a glorious gut-busting laugh.

On this What-if Holiday, I continue to be thankful for the freedom to express and the abundant ways that one can go about it.

My muse

My muse

A turkey impression that I can't believe I am posting

A turkey impression that I can't believe I am posting

Displaying my turkey flair

Displaying my turkey flair

It reminds me of a recent visit with mom to see the exhibit “Rare Bird of Fashion:  The Irreverent Iris Apfel” at the Peabody Essex Museum.  Iris is a rare bird, summoning the spirit of her interior life and making it visible to the world.  Her audacious expressions rejuvenated my spirit, leaving me with that extra boost of chutzpah to go out into the world with all my feathers splayed.

Click on the links above for an amazing application that allows you to curate Ms. Apfel’s wardrobe for yourself! A perfect opportunity to play What-if I . . .?

HouseCraft in America’s North Country

One Woman’s Enlightened Vision of Homecrafting

Yes, to my surprise, housecraft is a word.

How many of us think that house keeping is drudgery, that in pursuit of perfection we’ve subscribed to a lifelong task of Swiffering, vacuuming, dusting, and dish washing?  Keeping house, I learned on recent vacation to Tapawingo, New York’s storied Adirondack getaway, is a lot different than keeping home.

50s_appliance

Keeping House is the acceptance of culturally codified rules, beliefs and myths that for generations have informed the domestic ideal.  Followers of “keeping house” pray to the Windex Wizard and pay deference to the Clorox King and his lady the Queen of Clean.  They see self reflection in the image of a spotless stove and believe that material goods will bestow years of prosperity and happiness.

Keeping Home is the throwing away of this false religion.  It’s the empowering notion that the home is something that each of us creates as a reflection of individual desires and needs.  Home is not a commodity.

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Tapawingo’s open air kitchen, all designed and crafted by her and her late husband

Tapawingo is a place of lore so seemingly untrue that you may not believe it exists.  It is a family home that from the 1940s on gradually pieced into a compound, hand built by Margo Fish (at right) and her late husband Howard. Howard proposed to 15-year-old Margo on Tapawingo’s porch;  A half century later, he unexpectedly passed while on a walk in the woods near their cherished place.  Margo, full of life, zest, sadness, love and memories carries Tapawingo’s torch into the future.

Margo also carries all sorts of things to fashion Tapawingo into the famed magical cabin-manor it has become.  During the 4-day stay, Margo managed the affairs of her home with vigor, yet effortless mastery.  At any moment, I would catch her with broom in hand, brushing away the leaves that fell from nature’s trees; plucking a fern on a whim for replanting; carrying petrified birch to line Tapawingo’s winding paths; and, straining a boiling pot of baby red potatoes for that evening’s impromptu dinner party of 20.

A Reflection on the Meaning of Home

On the last evening while I sat looking into the mirror that is Lake Placid on another of Margo’s hand creations, a rough-hewn twig and wood porch chair (she taught herself how to make all the furniture at Tapawingo), my thoughts turned to my own home.  Since our wedding a year ago, I have been grappling with the concept of housecraft and whether I could find empowerment and self expression in this venue. Do you ask the same?

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Margo’s handcrafted furniture, deck railings overlooking Lake Placid (above) and twig hutch for silver and glass

After Margo’s Tapawingo, it became crystal clear:  we don’t find ourselves in a home, we are the home.  It’s subtle, I know.  By shaping, molding, and working raw materials into beautiful, utilitarian structures and furnishings like Margo, we debunk the myth that the home is something we are powerless to create.  By not buying into commodity culture or praying to false domestic gods, Margo evolves home craft into a transcendent, self-empowering, spiritual practice.

Home is the extension of the self, carrying with it history, integrity, morals, values, and dreams. I feel less afraid of my home and more at peace with the potential of crafting my own version. Unfortunately, I’m just afraid I won’t be able to craft one with as much grace and sprezzatura as Margo.

What do you think?  Are their differences between house and home?  Is the practice of homecrafting empowering or destructive to women?  If you know of any woman or man who has a unique take on housecraft, share here.

Voyeurism and the Artist’s Open Studio

The rebranded totally revamped incarnation of the Museum of Art and Design (formerly, the American Craft Museum) openend last Septemeber 2008 at Columbus Circle, a bustling intersection on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and Central Park South.  As part of the institution’s education and outreach program, it hosts Artist Open Studios every day of the week on the 6th floor.  Last Sunday, I stopped in to see what Bridget Parris, a skilled Industrial Designer with home hardgood designs gracing Anthropologie’s catalogs, the european-inspired women’s wear and decor specialist, was creating.  On the bus ride to the museum, I was envisioning a post about the rewards of visiting an open studio, of learning first-hand from the artist, crafter or designer by joining in on a student-teacher dialogue.  I further hoped to pick up a skill or technique for a future craft.  What came from the visit, however, was entirely unexpected.

Watching someone at work, in the midst of a creative moment, feels invasive and uncomfortably personal.

In an open studio context, you quickly get the impression that there are unspoken rules of engagement.  Do not stare;  scan the studio with enthusiasm; never fix eyes on something that may appear unfinished, private; look interested; refrain from too many questions when s/he is creating; make art-intelligent statements; mind your step — these items are one of a kind!;  maintain appropriate physical and metaphorical distance between you, the subordinate, and the artist-teacher.  In the presence of art and craft making, behavior is heavily coded, turning what should be a pleasant, informative experience into quite possibly one of the most awkward encounters a person could have.

Ever walked in on someone naked, sharing equally in their horror as you turn to panic?  That’s exactly how I experience an artist’s open studio — can’t get out of there fast enough, yet am compelled to stay and mingle in the artist’s private practice.

Gustave Caillebotte (1848-1894), a wealthy French realist-impressionist artist painted crafts and tradesmen at work.  Caillebotte’s pictorial treatment of the laboring class came to mind at Parris’s open studio, where I sensed I was more voyeur than visitor.

Caillebotte_floor_scrapers_1875 Above, The Floor Scrapers by Gustave Cailebotte, 1875 (oil on canvas) 57 1/2 in. x 40 in.

The 1875 painting Les raboteurs de parquet or The Floor Scrapers, a study Caillebotte did of the working class laborers hired to repair his studio, is a poignant rendering of the complex relationship between the upper and working classes and between the fine artist and the skilled artist/artisan. Caillebotte depicts the sweat and raw muscularity of men in the throes of backbreaking labor.  The physical possession of his subjects goes beyond Caillebotte’s preference to paint the men nearly naked, stripped of their privacy, but to the formal qualities of the work itself.  The angle that the viewer enters the scene is from above, pinning the men firmly in the control of the artist and by proxy our gaze.  The power of the artist is asserted further by the imposed sense of claustrophobia, signifying a tenor of ownership. If you are inclined, Norma Broude’s book Gustave Caillebotte and the Fashioning of Identity in Paris and Terry E. Smith’s In Visible Touch:  Modernism and Masculinity both offer additional in-depth analyses into the subject.

Caillebotte channeled the inherent discomfort, perhaps anxiety, that arises from a relationship in which power is unevenly distributed.  Unlike Caillebotte I was not the dominating force in the open studio dynamic, which would have ideally constructed the perfect opportunity to absorb all the lessons that the expert desired to impart.  However,  the sense that I had violated a sacred space, whether perceived or true, prevented the free-flowing exchange of information.

caillebotte_house_painters_1877
Above, The House Painters by Gustave Caillebotte, 1876 (oil on canvas) approx. 35 in. x 45 in.

What has been your experience in the studio?  I am quite curious!

Tom Colicchio’s Real Craft

tom_colicchio

I doubt New York City’s Craft restaurant, chef-owner Tom Colichhio’s flagship on E. 19th Street in Manhattan’s Flatiron District could have come at any other moment in culinary history than when it did.  Nor could his Craft empire which presently includes Craftsteak, Craftbar, and ‘wichcraft and spans the US from Atlanta to Las Vegas have thrived the way it has.  William Grimes, then restaurant critic now Obit writer for the New York Times captured the essence of Craft in a December 2001 review.  Here’s what he had to say:

“Craft invites diners to take a trip.  The destination is a simpler, cleaner, more honest America, a place where the corn is bright yellow, the bread exhales clouds of yeasty sweetness and the fish swim in water as pure as Evian.  It’s a vision of food heaven, a land of strong pure flavors and back-to-basics cooking techniques.”

And when was this written?  Mr. Colichhio’s restaurant opened shortly before the terrorist attacks of September 2001; Mr. Grimes’s words flow from the open wounds of a country struck by an incredible catastrophe, and its hopeful longing for resolution.  Food is the remedy here, which Colicchio crafted up not a minute too soon.

Colicchio’s return to a simpler way of treating food, one that defers to its innate qualities was a refreshing practice in the era of vertical food.  The 1990s was a decade when on trend chefs were plating increasingly tall visual presentations, as if a perfectly balanced tower would suggest that the elements comprising it would be, by proxy, just as harmoniously balanced on the human palate.  Colicchio eschewed “culinary theatrics” in favor of an ingredient-driven approach to food and dining.

In suit, the menu at Craft attests to a pared down dining experience, where the diner selects a meat or fish by its preparation and a side from a no-frills list.  Nowhere does an inflated description distract from Craft’s credo:  skillful preparation sympathetic to once again elevating food to the starring role.  While Colicchio’s craft may seem simple, perhaps obvious, he is actually part of a long lime of crafters that have confidently “revolted into the past” to offer the jaded something seemingly new.  Like a good crafter, Colicchio seeks integrity in material and form.

Americans were ready for Craft.  The 90s culinary scene bombarded diners with empty promises:  food that was too often too difficult to eat, if physically satisfying at all.  The aftermath of 2001 required a craft that was sensitive enough to offer succor to the wounded spirits and palates of Americans.  The last thing New Yorkers wanted to digest were bits and pieces of a toppled tower of shaved tuna draping over a single fava bean.  The food had to work on the human plane — a safe distance from the verticality of skyreaching food that all too easily can crumble to an indiscernible mess.   Craft gave the people what they didn’t know they needed.

I am including links to a few video interviews and articles covering the rise of Craft.

American Craft Exposition, August 28-30, 2009

As I mentioned in the previous post, I am preparing to take thecluelesscrafter.com to the public this Saturday, July 11th at the Art Fair on the Square in Madison, WI.  I have been consumed with the task of developing credible marketing materials, including flyers, a short attention-grabbing spiel about the site and its mission (still forming that!), and the actual Interview Form that the exhibitors will fill out when they visit my site, assuming I convinced them to.  It is all quite overwhelming, an excuse I intend to use as a qualification for this past week’s silence.

I also have been away from my studio in NYC, visiting my in-laws and attending a series of summer weddings in the Midwest, where I grew up.  That is how I came upon a printed advertisement for the American Craft Exposition, a well-regarded craft exhibition now celebrating its 25th anniversary.  Curious about the scope and thrust of this event, I was eager to take a peek at its website.  Relatively new to the craft fair circuit — yes, they do occur in amazing abundance each weekend all around the US! — I wanted to know just how the American Craft Exposition does or does not differ from the Renegade Craft Fair and the Art Fair on the Square.  You may have guessed that I made a beeline for the words crafter, artisan and artist, believing that the context in which they are used may key me into some clue about what purpose these three classifications serve in American culture today.  Why do three different words exist and what set of ideas, if any, does each word convey?  The first remark I have may seem a bit obvious, but I believe it is crucial that I point it out.  The title of this event is the American Craft Exposition, right?  Why then do the event’s coordinators or whoever was in charge of marketing elect to call the entry application, visibly located on the site’s navigation bar, the “Artist Application” (http://americancraftexpo.org/), not the “Crafter Application”?  I stand firm that at least on the subconscious level the absence of crafter, craftsman, craftswoman, craftsperson from this prominent position on the site’s homepage was intentional, a telling omission that warrants further investigation.

The caliber of this event is clearly meant to appeal to those who have refined aesthetic principles, who believe craft is equivalent to a high art . . .yet different?  While the “Eligibility” requirements (located under the “Artist Application” tab) do not allow the admission of fine arts defined as “painting, photography, lithography, etc., except when incorporated into an otherwise craft category,” the blurring between craft and art is in full force.  Are they the same?  Should an exquisitely designed ceramic object composed of complex visual motifs be worthy of equivalent respect as a perfectly finished painting? What if the makers each took the same time to complete the work, spent the same amount of money on materials, and, of course, both made their works by hand?

craft_exposition

I actually fear attempting to answer why craft may or may not be different than art knowing that despite a formal education in art history and in the art market, I am neither a crafter, artisan or artist.  Whether it’s a class question or a culture question or something entirely new that decides what is deemed craft versus what is deemed art today, it is perhaps appropriate that someone as in the dark as myself should venture to uncover the answer. Combing the American Craft Exposition site for the appearance of artist, artisan and craft (never crafter) was an eye-opening, reaffirming exercise.  There is something meaningful lurking behind these words, something meaningful to the artist, the artisan, the crafter and to American culture.

Will the participants at this weekend’s art fair think I am onto something or will I be sent packing, empty interviews in hand?

Taking The Clueless Crafter to the Streets

AFOTSPOSTER2009Art Fair on the Square 2009 flyer by Nick Wroblewski

I am quite nervous of what may come of this first survey attempt.  I wholly expect to be heartily chided or at least be the recipient of several disapproving glares for making the assumption that some of the exhibitors at the fair could possibly be classified as crafters.  I cannot flesh it out here (I hope over time my survey project will do just that) but I do know that terms such as crafter, artisan, and artist convey different meanings to both those who practice and those who patronize the arts.  I have heard that crafters are often associated with beautifying utilitarian objects while artists, perhaps, are equated with creating objects for intellectual and aestheic pleasure without regard to its function in our daily lives.  But, of course, this is an egregious generalization.  As for the artisan, I am in the dark.

From studying art history, I have learned that the art world has its own hierarchy.  Fine art has often been elevated to the realm of the intellect, appealing to a more refined, sophisticated viewer.  According to this hierarchy, this is why, although both have painted seascapes, Thomas Kinkade and Claude Lorrain are not considered to be of the same ilk.

thomas_kinkade

Thomas Kinkade, The Sea of Tranquility

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Claude Lorrain, Seaport 1674

I can recall one very poignant moment when I first registered the weight of of this topic and how it can spark the ire of those wrongly deemed a “crafter.” I happened to overhear a discussion a producer was having about a particular guest that was to appear on the show.  It was in regards to how the guest was to be introduced and then referred to during her segment.  As I was within an earshot of the exchange, I was able to gather that the guest had made an explicit request — I mean 100% explicit — to not be called a crafter.  If the demand was disregarded, from what I could conclude, she would not make an appearance on the show!  Clearly, to her, the word craft had a whole set of connotations that she quite affirmatively did not want to belong to.  It was at this juncture that I recognized how full my hands just may be.

Will going to the Art Fair on the Square two weeks from now open myself up to a similar wrath?  It seems that the exhibitors are being referred to as “artists” on the official event website:  http://www.mmoca.org/events/artfair/index.php despite, from what I can tell, showing works that appear to have the stereotypical craft-like qualities.  If I mention the word craft, will I be given the cold shoulder?  It is, after all, key that even those artists and artisans who refrain from being deemed crafters answer my survey.  Their voice will only further illuminate the discussion.

Until then, I have an ambition to begin yet another at-home craft project:  tea cup candles.  I am on the prowl for the tools, wax or whatever makes a candle work, and a how-to guide in plain English.  Through engaging my hands, I hope to occupy my mind enough to forget how nervous I am to commence Phase II!  If this candle-making project is anything like the magazine holder, I fear I may be more stressed.

Stage II of The Clueless Crafter

I have been fortunate enough to have an excellent education and several professional experiences that have added up to a grounded understanding of fine and decorative arts. From taking a graduate course in which I was trained to understand the writing of  the American art critic Clement Greenberg (1909-1994) to working in an art and antiques appraisal office, I’ve had immense exposure to the arts.  I, of course, have a lot more to learn and I really am eager to see what this online journal does for that.  As I have begun to dive into the world of craft, albeit without clear direction, I have recognized that I need to contextualize my creative dalliances within the larger world of craft. What am I doing that is the same or not the same as crafters who make crafting the root of their professional lives or hobbyists who make it the root of their post-work lives?  Am I in anyway the same?  Am I tapping into the true meaning, the true power of craft, whatever that may be?  I just do not know.

It dawned upon me that this project would have more merit if the real crafters working around me weighed in on the topic.  At the heart, I simply want to ask each one of them this:  What is and what is not craft and why.  The desire to answer this question has led me to Stage II of thecluelesscrafter.com.  I am taking this question — and a few more –  to crafters’ studios in hopes that this survey will give craft a cultural context, its true voice, in today’s rapidly changing world. With the economy and the political landscape in great flux, is the meaning of craft in our lives following suit??

The premise of this survey project is not intended to offer a definitive answer; rather, its intention is to dig deep into the subject and see what it has to say for itself.

I am beginning this project with a visit to Art Fair on the Square, an annual art fair held on the state capitol’s square in Madison, WI every summer for the past 51 years.  I have a feeling that this may be an interesting start to this project, one that may cause a bit of a stir.  I’ll share why soon.