My father is a hunter and a fisherman. He also bred dogs. My mother grew up in a very rural area, helping her dad out on their farm. She was also an avid believer that families should have pets. There are many photos of my siblings and I holding lifeless and living animals. We also had wall mounted deer head that I recall petting and fawning over. I have a deep love for wildlife, even down to the ant and spider. I feel that they deserve as much respect as humans, even if we cannot communicate through the same verbal language. These creatures are a vital part to the ebb and flow of nature. Without them we lose a tremendous amount of beauty and energy. Recently I was introduced to two different artists paying tribute to deceased animals that they happened upon. Both created lovely images of memorial using floral and other natural arrangements. I feel like the utmost respect was given to these beings. They are treated as sacred entities, just as we would do for our own dead. I am incredibly in awe of these beautiful ritualistic images. If we were to pay homage to all aspects of the natural world as they live and die, there might be more of a cohesive, empathetic union of sorts.
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While in Pest, Hungary, my dear friend, Kate, and I ventured into an antique bookstore. We both are serious bibliophiles, so we spent quite a bit of time looking through their collection despite the language barrier. A few of my purchases included A Kis Herceg (the Little Prince in Hungarian), a British book of faerie tales, and a book on Hungarian folk artist Ilona Kiss Rooz. Though the text of the book on Kiss Rooz was in a foreign language, the images in the book were what sold me. Her artwork is incredibly textured and expressive. From what I have been able to glean from the book's images and what little information there is on her in English on the internet, she threw vessels and altered them into narrative works which include stylized figures. Often her functional forms were framing devices for the characters she would put within. This was incredibly inspirational to me, as I am very interested in vignettes and works which find a way to set up encapsulated scenes. Though she graduated from an art school, its fantastic that she still worked in the realm of traditional craft and folklore. Her forms were well done and symmetrically thrown and she utilized mark making which was in no way haphazard, while incorporating traditional Hungarian motifs. Though her figures were simplified and rustic, overall, the execution of her craft was impeccable and oh-so-appealing. There was so much life and expression in her colorful, atmospherically fired work. I am incredibly thankful for my Hungarian experiences and for the discovery of this fantastic artist. Before I left for my study abroad trip in Kecskemet, Hungary, at the International Ceramics Studio, I came across the work of Danish artist, Maria Rubinke. I hadn't really taken much time to absorb the narratives before traveling, but I knew that I enjoyed her use of very sweet looking, little girl dolls in precarious situations. Cynthia Constantino's Figurines, sculptures of little girls holding guns, were brought to mind when I first saw Rubinke's work. Often in Rubinke's sculpture, there is extreme violence taking place, highlighted by stains of red in the bright white porcelain she uses. Upon further research I found that she has used a lot of animal and other naturalistic imagery juxtaposed with carnival-esque and other surrealistic - even nightmarish - visual references. Power and fragility seem to be themes that she often utilizes in her small scale sculptures. I feel a sense of Grimm's gruesome fairy tales running through her body of work, warning the viewer of events that might occur if they don't keep their wits about them. Rubinke keeps her color palette minimal, incorporating red, black, gold, or pink to highlight certain areas of her otherwise pristine, white porcelain. To me, this makes for a more striking, and even illustrative body of work, without distraction of superfluous pigmentation. Kate MacDowell and Louise Hindsgavl are two ceramic artists who also follow this line of color treatment. I usually am very drawn to dark and dingy, warn surfaces, but am incredibly enthralled with immaculately white porcelain. Perhaps it is the discovery of these artists and the fact that I was able to access the phenomenal Hungarian porcelain that I am so excited about bright, white clay. It can be just as expressive as other, darker works. My studio practice heavily revolves around research into the subjects I am interested in discussing. I delve into books and other written texts for academic study. Visual research is also incredibly important. I spend hours at a time looking for images that spark something within me. I enjoy working with low fire clay and underglazes with my sculptures. The bright, matte colors are incredibly appealing on the textured surfaces I like to form. Maquette work is informative to the content and technical construction of later pieces. Working in that scale also appeals to my love of the intimate object or trinket. Creating multiples of an object, whether replicating through sculpture or casting, can be a therapeutic, repetitive process. The build up of content becomes incredibly powerful to me, personally, and it is my hope that the viewer will feel the same once all of the elements of the work come together. It has been an attempt to combine both large and small scale elements recently. The larger forms create a space to encapsulate the mass produced pieces. I also have plans to bring in glass, wire, and lighting to further expand the content of this work. I am always reevaluating ideas and trying to figure out the most concise way to express my thoughts. I find that more and more I am drawn to creating mixed media works. Often the non clay elements frame the ceramic works or steady the mind for a moment as the viewer processes the content laden sculptures. In my studio practice, I had been considering using a typical living room set up for the narrative I wish to communicate. It was suggested I check out the work of Philadelphia based artist, Hope Rovelto, for inspiration. It was a great find, as Rovelto's work was right up my alley. For the Fleisher Wind Challenge 2008-09, Rovelto created Stages of Life in which she utilized real and cast chairs to represent different times in our development. She set up her chairs with prints and in precarious positions, signifying the strains of various periods of growth. Her cast pieces are assembled together, but not smoothed or refined. Some chairs are altered, revealing the pressure of who might have sat in these seats.The fresh-out-of-the-mold look of is incredibly appealing and the idea of sturdy furniture is questioned when looking at the fragile clay body. Once again the Ken Ferguson Teaching Collection opened up its drawers and cabinets for exploration. I had seen this 4" x 3 "x 1 1/2" piece by Julie Malen during my last visit, but did not study it well. Due to my current research, I pounced to handle this tiny ceramic work. I was more familiar with Malen's large scale work such as "Bull in a China Shop" from 2009. This intimate piece still holds my attention. It is straightforward in its use of the timer and wings - time flies and ends - and with the incorporation of skull, which speaks of mortality. The use of simple glossy white for the surface allows the viewer to reflect upon this symbolic content without being distracted by ornate colors or design. The white also references bone or ancient marble statuary, also related to death and remembrance. This is one of fifteen Memento Mori Souvenirs made by Malen. Its a wonderful addition to this collection, allowing for students to remember their mortality and to make the most out of what little time they have in this world. It was recently suggested that I look at the ceramic and mixed media works of Tom Bartel. I was immediately drawn to his figurative pieces. The forms he creates are somewhat grotesque with highly textured skin and brutish, exaggerated features. However, these figures express a docile nature with their impotent and incomplete bodies. The color palette Bartel uses is also very soft. The disfigured come together with cheerful patterns. Themes like mortality and fertility are addressed honestly for all of the beauty and horror. Life's scars and blemishes are not vainly hidden, but displayed in Bartel's treatment of his character's "skin." Bartel's dualistic depictions of humanity are a new favorite to my visual library. While exploring the Nelson Atkin's "recent daguerreotype acquisition" exhibition I came across something fascinating. In a darkly lit room of the Nelson Atkins Bloch Building, two hundred wallet sized daguerreotypes are encased with little back lighting. In the very last case, above Eagle Facing Left, and to the right of Portrait of Sylvester S. Crosby is this gem, Genushe - so called because that was inscribed on the back of the copper plate the image is printed on. Depicted, is a small, deceased rabbit dressed in dolls clothes, laying in a coffin, holding onto flowers. This image is one of the more interesting examples of the Victorian tradition of post-moretem photography and collecting of memento mori. In the 19th century, death was more openly celebrated and discussed than in current times. Photos of the deceased, especially young children, were the only images or memento they had of these individuals. This image is particularly fascinating because it immortalizes a beloved animal in a very sweet manner. Though, for today's standards it might seem a bit morbid due to the animal being a corpse. However, I feel I can relate to the preservation of this rabbit's visage. My dad, being a hunter and fisherman, brought home many trophy animals that my siblings and I would display in photos. We also grew up with many pets, some of which my dad would breed, so we also had images of the family with quite a few litters as well. In my own studio practice I have been looking into ways in which we memorialize our dead. This simple, striking image, that is so sweet yet could be tough to look at for some, inspires me to confront and embrace the celebration of those who have passed on before me. The value of the individual is immense and should be honored and discussed after they cease to breathe. We still learn from their former presence in our lives and can continue to enrich our thoughts I've just discovered the brilliant social and political sculptor, Edward Kienholz. Edward Kienholz was born in Washington state in 1927. As a young man he moved to Los Angeles and became a part of the up and coming avant-garde movement of the West coast. He had no formal training as an artist, but utilized his skills in construction to create sculptural pieces and installations. He moved to Idaho and continued to work, addressing controversial subjects such as abortion ( The Illegal Operation, 1962), substandard mental health programs (State Hospital 1966), and American war profiteering (Portable War Memorial, 1968). He was no stranger to censorship, as his Backseat Dodge, '38, was claimed obscene and shown with its racy contents behind closed doors. Ed uses detritus to build up his works. His pieces include eerie lighting and haunting music to create a full atmosphere for his tableaux of unabashed honesty. The installation I most reacted to, though I have never viewed his works in person, was Five Car Stud. It depicts a scene of a black man being assaulted by a group of grotesque looking white men, while his white female companion watches, terrified, from the truck her man was pulled out of. This scene of violence is one of the most graphic representations of a hate crime I have ever viewed. It is more horrifying than many of the crime and death photos I have run across in research. The nightmarish composition shocks the viewer into the realization that this sort of irrational savagery still occurs and we cannot turn a blind eye on it. Edward Kienholz's bravery in exposing the bestial side of life is inspiring. This week I take a look at what inspires me in my own apartment. In my short lifetime I have a acquired a lot of wonderful items throughout my various travels - including four bookshelves spilling over phenomenal bits of bound knowledge. Out of all of my trinkets and keepsakes, the photos of my friends and family probably incite creative motivation more often than the average beloved domestic item. A friend of mine once stressed how important it was to have images of good times displayed in your environment and within the past few years I have found the truth in that. The people whose images fill my wall have been of major influence and taught me many lessons. I draw strength from memory of our interactions and from the relationships past and present. When in doubt my support system reminds me of my goals and steers be back on course, even just by seeing their faces beaming up at me from the frame. |