Wax Paper Installation

The idea of feminizing space is the idea of seeking a more balanced equal world.  This piece is my first major attempt to study the "how" of feminizing, to see my ideas work on a physical and visual level.  I was lucky enough to gain access to one of the MFA thesis galleries at Claremont Graduate University (where I'm attending) during the off season (summer).  Its a big rectangle: 37.5 feet long by 25 ft wide by 16 feet high.  The space is gorgeous with blank white walls, white ceiling and white track lighting, and a used but wax cement floor.  The problem is the shape, which is a box. 

The rectangle, the cube, the box, the square are all the shapes we are exposed to with architecture.  There are reasons for this such as maximization of space, efficiency in building, ease of located/manufacturing building materials to name a few.  These are all concerns whenever building anything, but somehow they have won in the minds of designers and architects and those with approval stamps and gold start stickers.  My argument is that they are a masculine concern and there are a lot of social implications of a created environment that are neglected and ignored or even disbelieved because it can be detrimental to the male ego.  To say that a room would have influence over you is to say you are week.  To say that a social concern is your concern is to say that you are weak.  I don't exactly agree with gender roles or column A is female and column B is male, but when they are thrust upon society to a point that you are raised with a sense of these roles and standards through generations, they do mold your conversations and ideas.  Rectangular rooms are everywhere.  Most architecture created in the last 50 years gets innovative only when seeking to offer variation to the rectangle, and are hard pressed to throw it out completely.  We are surrounded by rooms, buildings, shed, bus stations, offices, telephone booths, bathroom stalls, etc. that conform to this shape. 

Feminization of Space, Wax Paper is me trying to examine the question of what kind of power does an environment's shape hold?  What happens when we leave those shapes behind.  Does changing material help?  This installation started with a solution of weaving material together as a quick and easy way to replace the straight walls an d corners with a rounded wall.  The material needed to be white so it blended in with the existing walls.  The goal was to change the shape of the room to something more organic and rounded, less symmetrical, and to a softer material.  The lighting was such that you could not see the actual walls of the room, just my alteration.  I chose basket weaving as the method to create this piece firstly because of its form building ability, and that it could use lightweight material and still work.  Secondly it does bring other feminine aspects to the room being a domestic/craft construction method.  Something on a roll seemed not only practical for the act of construction, but also would act like a fat string in weaving.  Wax paper wound up being the medium of choice, as it was very cheap and translucent white, so that it would still allow light to fill the space and the color would blend in with the wall so it would help create the feeling that it was part of the room or part of the wall.

Though I agree with the comments I received about the appearance of the outside (that the outside is just as interesting to see as the inside), the work is meant to be viewed from the interior only.  You walk into a room that possesses all these qualities that are lacking in the traditional box format.  The "walls" themselves glow because of the nature of wax and having to place lights outside the piece because of lack of track inside the piece.  The weaving added a (albeit unexpected) sense of movement which is not typical to architecture or rooms.  Weaving also brought about the association of fabric to the viewers which in turn reads as cozy and warm.  Socially I think the shape created provided more options for someone occupying the space:  I spent an afternoon in the space to try to pick up on nuances that I might have missed in making the piece, where I was mostly experiencing the outside.  the curves of the walls allow you to tuck yourself under the wall a little if you were so inclined.  The space did not feel overwhelmingly vast, empty and boring as the room normally feels.  Though the size of the room was shrunk in the creation of the piece, it still feels big because I left the top open exposing the ceiling.  As the AC kicked in the wax paper gently and delicately moved and covered the industrial hum of the ducts with a light crinkly sound.

I think I will definitely be examining this concept again, with this specific method of altering the shape of the predominantly masculine architecture.  With perhaps a grant I'd like to use fabric and weave more carefully to create a larger piece in a space where you can experience the inside and outside of it.  Something like a mall or office atrium, where the second floor would have a view of the exterior and the first floor could experience the inside.

Notes on Structure

Hi All, I have just finished my second draft of my thesis paper (that goes along with my thesis body of work for my MFA.)  I thought it would be interesting to include an excerpt of it here:

Examining structure is examining the strengths and weaknesses of something, gaining full understanding of whom and what something can be at its core.  Knowing structure is to know how something can fall apart and what keeps it together.  I like to build structures to make them fall apart in places and be held together in others.  I do this by mimicking designs that I have seen in biology and in architecture, or consciously taking those structures away.  As the maker, I have this intimate knowledge about the forms I build.  This relationship makes the object I’m making take a position of weakness and vulnerability, but only after I have gone through the paces with that material and that form.

This is an in-progress view of a piece called "linear flow."  It has a salvaged wood frame with steel mesh strewn between.  The teal are bamboo skewers which are then glued into the mesh as a way to illustrate the lines and curves it makes.

The creating and destroying of structure reflects the struggle I have with allowing looseness and fighting tightness in my practice.  These are values that are very important to me because they challenge my natural tendencies.  The materials’ dictation of the end result is a way for fate and unknown to enter and destroy the certainty in my design.  What is left is a form that is in between states, teetering on the brink of a number of absolutes.  

Linear Flow, installed at the DA Gallery, Pomona, CA for their Trilateral Exchange show.

Studio Fort

view of "fort" as you walk into my studio

     So I built this fort in my studio for the "Open Studios" event we had at CGU back at the end of April.  This was a take on the Blades and Swarms piece I did earlier in the year.  I decided that it would be good to include a sample of that type of work, along with some other projects as a way to show all the ways I'm thinking about materials, structure, and the building/assembling of objects.  It was also a chance for me to implement some great advice from a studio visit I had with Mathew Deleget, who was spring semester's "Atlantic Lecturer" at school.  (An interesting note about Mathew: he is part of a collaborative group called Minus Space, that also does publishing.  Definitely check them out: you can do so here.  Both him and Minus Space are based in Brooklyn, NY.)

     Mathew suggested that I make some installation work that involves specificity of the space.  In other words, make objects that fit into only one space, as opposed to what I had been doing which was making things that adapt and can be installed in any space.  

     This is certainly more difficult, if anything because it takes some finesse and coordination to get permission to build in a specific space, then there's the building part which usually is dictated by budget and time constraints of both you and the location.  So I decided using my studio for just this purpose would be a great way to go about it for a first run.  

outside, standing above, looking down in

     I had used the wood from the first installation to build a loft in my studio, but luckily have scavenged a few pieces of wood from the scrap bin downstairs to make up for it.  (I managed to re-used the fabric leftovers, and some smaller wood pieces.)  As I was building, I was climbing under and over the frame and very aware of my height the whole time.  I managed to create a more enclosed are of the piece, so you really feel like you are going into and through a cavern.  The danger is a little more real, and the navigation more physical then the last time.  (I hit my head several times on some of the sharp wood clusters.)     

outside, side view

     Overall I think it was a success.  The piece appeared bigger on the inside than the outside.  It also had a different shape inside versus out.  The light changed in different areas too, which really added to the beauty of the form.  When you all the way in, no one could see you.  This to me meant that as a viewer, the experience was more personal.

inside, looking up

   You may have noticed that I am talking about the piece in the past tense.  One of the issues with any installation, but especially one in your studio, is that after a while you have to take it down.  I needed room for building other projects.  The good news is I have plenty of photos of the piece and have more projects underway to share.

Tree House Collaboration

 

 

During this past spring semester, I was asked to partake in a collaborative project run by artist Nate Little.  The project is this: Nate made these little "trees" and gave one to every person who agreed to participate.  They had a little tag hanging off one of the branches with instructions on it.  Each artist proceeded to make a house for the tree.  Some people took it very literally and made houses, and did something more non-specific.  I guess I'm one of the latter.  

I was planning on using toothpicks woven with wire for something, but hadn't figured it out until that project came along.  I was also thinking about frosted mylar because I like the look of it.  In my other work, I had just started to tackle the problem of adding color without the color implying something.  This project wound up being the perfect platform to experiment and find solutions for all these problems.  I think the collaborative nature of the project where there is only a partial ownership of the work and the idea helps take the pressure off, along with the fact that Nate made 30 trees (about) and so if mine wasn't good it didn't matter because there would be so many others to look at.

The results are shown here.  I plan to take this back to my own work by running with the woven toothpick idea.  I am doing more of it, using thin (31 guage) steel.  I like the idea of scaling it up, using wooden chopstick or something similar along with toothpicks.  After I have made a fair amount of these I will need to tackle the problem of installing them in a space.  (I'm not ready to think about that yet.)  Since using the mylar in this piece I have figured out a different way to approach working with it.  This project served as a way to break the ice between me and mylar :)

The Notion of Craft -New projects

I have been trying to find ways of balancing my practice in all sense of the word.  Balance between the materials I use, the labor investment (length of time to make, and the physical demands of making), and in how I create work (balance of process).  This is important for me to sustain a studio practice.  But it goes beyond the functions of creating and producing work.  It also offers a balance and adds to the ideas that the work explores.  For example, my attraction to craft and metalwork has a lot to do with the knowledge of how its made, and the skill required to execute certain techniques, and knowing that somebody was willing to invest the time to gain the skill and then apply that skill to create that object.  That object becomes imbued with the maker, which makes the object especially meaningful (or dare I say: Precious).  So what happens when you take that time and effort and apply it to an object of no value?  And to further push the question: what happens when you take that labor, even without the skill, and apply that to an object?  Does labor have meaning without skill?  Does an object have value without such handling?

There is a definite romance of the skilled artisan that people (including myself) linger on when appreciating a fine antique in a museum.  I take it further than most people, imaging the passing of knowledge and skill to that artisan by generations of skilled hands, going all the way back to the beginning, to the discovery of the material and learning of how to manipulate it.  Skilled labor is what developed us as a creature separate from animal ( in the pursuit of beauty).

This is not the forefront of my explorations when creating, but it is absolutely present in my thinking and decisions on choosing materials and how to go about constructing.  I have been setting myself up for long bouts of repetition in making with some recent projects.  They are intense in labor because of how many I will have to make to get the piece substantial enough to make an impact.  They labor is also being applied to objects that would otherwise be discarded: toilet paper rolls.  I plan to fill a wall with them, if not more.  There is a personal quirkiness that I ma trying to exploit, and at the same time, bring it to a level, and place it in the current conversation of assemblage versus construction in sculpture, and craft versus art.  I would also mention that craftiness is linked to domesticity, and the feminine (see my post on the crochet piece) and sculpture is considered big and masculine.  One of the questions I ask with all these issues is can I skirt the line?  Can I pull of a piece that is either gender neutral or gender inclusive, representing both sides of all these coins?  My reason for looking at both sides of things is not because I am indecisive, but because I empathize with both, agree with certain aspects of both.

This all leads into my newest endeavor.  I am working with paper rolls, from toilet paper, and paper towels.  These are items thrown away all the time.  I am cutting into them, reshaping them and then clustering them together.  It is small now, but I plan on taking this to a fairly large scale.

 

Loose thoughts on Feminist Theory

Before I begin, let me just say that I have been thinking about feminism a lot as it pertains to art, my life, my art, and questioning it as a position, while trying to pin down the current wave of feminism in art and what this era of feminism is championing.  These questions and subsequent examination has been more heavily motivated by the recent bouts of sexism that has been experienced by American women from male political figures campaigning for presidency and in congress, along with conservative media and personalities, and the scores of crap on TV that present women as tits and ass, bitchy, and materialistic.  The conversation surrounding women's reproductive rights (specifically the right to affordable, effective birth control) has served as an impetus for a lot of women wonder where our equality has gone.  

I have an idea for an installation that involves bringing a curvy floral line along a flat wall.  Ideally this would be done in a hallway or alley, or even a room.  Beyond the normal concepts I have been exploring in my work, the thought occurred to me that this could apply as feminist. 

A room or alley or hallway, consists of flat, straight walls, a floor (also typically flat) and perhaps a ceiling.  It is the epitome of minimalist shapes (the square, or rather cube in three dimensions) and completely geometric at that.  Art History and current artist’s theory refer to minimalism as a male dominated movement, during a male dominated market.  Beyond that it was a man’s artist that created the work; minimalists were not touchy-feely artist types, too sensitive to do anything but paint.  Minimalists smoke and drank as they defended their canvases, the Ernest Hemingways of the art world. 

In both painting and sculpture the forms that dominated were heavy, base, and weighted, if not geometric.  I would argue that there is a masculine aesthetic in these chosen forms, the artists perhaps unaware or concerned with gender in their work.  In fact I would say that it wasn’t pointed out as masculine until some women came along declared it so.  (Maybe not declared, but these women offered something to compare it to that then created the notion of gender aesthetics and started to be applied to more historical artworks retroactively.)

The room, building, and other basic architectural forms are rather masculine in aesthetic by this argument.  They are simple, geometric, with no applied detail.  This is not an old way of building, either.  There are warehouses, commercial properties, and business parks rising up all over the place in my neighborhood and this is what they are: simple, giant cubes.  Colors are white, tan, beige, black.

To take this masculine form and to alter it, add to it, fill it would be changing it to feminine.  In my idea the walls would still be seen through the piece, so does that make it neutral in gender, or consist of both?  Is it now more overtly feminine because the female aesthetic is on top of the male?  The act of taking over –domination- is considered a masculine act… so can you really call the piece feminine? 

There are no real answers to these questions, unless you consider the work to which its applied (and only that work).  In that way, I would be curious to see how people would consider my work.  I don’t create with the idea of it being feminine or feminist.  I merely follow through with the images that appear in my head… cultivate them to a point of reality and send them through a course of fine tuning based on visual aesthetics of yours truly.  Though after writing this I am no longer able to say that I haven’t thought about it.  In which case I would defend my work as being gender androgynous.  I also do try to be mindful of the materials and construction of my work so that there is a balance presented.

Blades and Swarms Installation

This was a piece several months in the making and transforming in my head several times over during the course of construction.  There are several components to this work, and several different concepts being applied and considered.

It started as a way to approach the organization of grass blades and the tufts of grass that have been left to grow a little longer before being cut.  When you get down on the ground and look at them straight on you notice curves and angles other than vertical, which add to the grass' appearance of being a blanket of green from a distance and being dense and fluffy from standing height.  I created these wooden clusters based on that exploration.  

After a while I had several of them and wanted to play with their display, and thought about how people interact with sculpture and other objects as they are on the ground.  So I decided to hang them from the ceiling, asking, "Does the extra concentration and grace it takes to navigate through and around the sculpture change the perception of the viewer?"  

The work is also put together in a very loose way, with no concern about craftsmanship or seamlessness in the end result.  There are several reasons for this.  I wanted to make something adopting a different method and approach than my usual to see how it would effect the creative process, and to balance out my work on other projects (which at the time were carefully made, repetitive, and thought out before making).  The clusters of wood were assembled rather quickly, though mentally laborious, so I could only do about an hour at a time.  The mental labor was the act of making a decision with every piece of wood attached.  And they couldn't all be planned out, because next decision would be based on the one before it.  That was rather tough for me.  The quickness of making was freeing, allowing me to spend more time thinking about display, making decisions, and not feeling rushed to finish.

Once I started installing into the Niche space I had access to, I maintained the shody-ness of the work with the frame I built and choosing to staple gun the fabric onto it.  One of the purposes that I wanted to maintain throughout the making of this piece was the looseness of it.  Being too careful with any aspect of it would have changed things, and I wanted to see what my personal hangups with working loosely were.

The swarms placed on the fabric is a reflection of what I observed while building this piece.  Bugs kept landing on the fabric, hanging out there, along with seeds, dirt, leaves, etc.  I thought it was interesting (especially with the bugs) to watch this happen.  It was like they were looking for new territory to claim, and here it was, a brand new, unmarred surface of dazzling white cotton!