Tag / Sculpture
Antony Gormley: Spirituality and the Body
Antony Gormley is a sculptor who is widely acclaimed for his installations that investigate the human body and condition. Throughout his artistic career, Gormley has been awarded many prizes, including the Turner Prize in 1994, the South Bank Prize for Visual Art in 1999, and the Bernhard Heiliger Award for Sculpture in 2007, among many more. Gormley critiques the human-centric beliefs of Catholicism, with the beliefs of cosmology where the human presence is seen as irrelevant to the greater whole. Continue reading →
Dada vs. Neo-Dada – Contextualizing Contemporary Art
The Dada art movement or “Dadaism” began around 1914 in Europe. The movement was itself created in reaction to World War 1, as artists began to question the society that had allowed the atrocities of the war to occur (Dada 2019, par. 1). They placed most of the blame upon conformity and traditional values in both art and society, and therefore sought to completely reject traditional approaches to art. In this way Dada could be considered an art movement which embraced “anti-art” (Dada 2019, par. 3), and was framed as a critique on society. It accomplished this through emphasis upon the message conveyed by the art rather than just it’s appearance or façade. A major art concept popularized by Dada artists in the early 20th-century was the readymade: an “ordinary article of life” stripped of its traditional uses and significance and presented so as to create a “new thought for that object” (Ray and Duchamp 1917). The most famed example of the readymade is Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain. Duchamp submitted a signed urinal to an art exhibit in New York City and was promptly denied inclusion in the exhibition. Fountain became a huge symbol for the Dada art movement as a whole. By effectively removing the urinal’s usefulness, the purpose of the object became entirely aesthetic and Marcel believed it should therefore be considered art. This brought up a common thread throughout the Dada art movement: that the artist themselves defined what should be considered art. The act of choosing and labeling a “readymade” object for presentation as art was just as much an act of creation as a painting or handmade object would be. Fountain epitomized Dada’s rejection of conventional art practice, and many found it to be debase and meaningless as a result. Nonetheless, it has had an immense impact on art throughout the 1900’s and into the modern day.
Decades later, the 1950’s saw a resurgence of the Dadaism style in what was coined “Neo-Dada”. It began and ended in America alongside the Pop Art movement, meaning Neo-Dada drew from both Dada and Pop Art. Pop Art, in many ways exemplifying commercialism and conformity, was a stark contrast to the core principles of Dada, which offered criticism of these same principles. Some former Dada artists didn’t see Neo-Dada as an homage to Dada, but rather a derivative – a less impactful copy. While Dadaism was a rejection of traditional artistic form and practice, Neo-Dadaism was a rejection of art altogether. It leaned on absurdity and often seemed to have no meaning or message at all. Although some pieces might’ve appeared absurd or random upon first glance, at the heart of Dada artwork was a message which rejected societal norms and the boundaries set for what could be considered art. To some, Neo-Dadaism was absurd art for the purpose of absurdity, stripped of the underlying message behind its predecessor.
Neo-Dadaists, on the other hand, believed their art to have meaning through the viewer’s interpretation (Neo Dada 2019, par. 5). They accepted that art could have multiple meanings or no meaning at all, and placed more emphasis upon anti-art and anti-aesthetic than Dada had. Their work juxtaposed absurd imagery with modern materials and Pop Art to effectively question their relationship or lack thereof (Chilvers and Glaves-Smith 2009). Neo-Dadaism expanded upon the somewhat paradoxical nature of Dada. One such example is Ushio Shinohara’s “Ashura” (“Ushio Shinohara” 2019), a sculpture made from found objects. The found objects are assembled so as to depict a cartoonish man with several extra appendages: one holding a sword, another a flower, two more gripping the handlebars of the rusted-looking motorbike he sits atop. Segments of the piece are garishly painted in the same bright colors one might see in an Andy Warhol piece, while others retain their naturally dingy appearance. These found objects (often literally discarded trash) earned much of Shinohara’s work the label “junk art” (Lansroth 2015, par. 6), much like Duchamp’s repurposed urinal may’ve been regarded by some in its day. It is the inherent contrast between these aesthetically derelict found objects and the neon colors that accompany them which add another layer to fundamental Dadaism and create something entirely new.
Images Referenced
Sources
Chilvers, Ian and John Glaves-Smith. A Dictionary of Modern and Contemporary Art. Oxford University Press (2009), p. 503.
“Dada Movement Overview.” The Art Story. Accessed February 12, 2019. https://www.theartstory.org/movement/dada/.
Lansroth, Bob. “10 Neo Dada Art Pieces That Influenced and Shaped This Groundbreaking Art Movement.” Widewalls, October 3, 2015. https://www.widewalls.ch/neo-dada-artworks/.
“Neo-Dada Movement Overview.” The Art Story. Accessed February 12, 2019. https://www.theartstory.org/movement-neo-dada.htm.
Ray, Man and Marcel Duchamp. “The Richard Mutt Case.” Edited by Marcel Duchamp. The Blind Man, May 1917.
“Ushio Shinohara | Ashura (2014) | Available for Sale | Artsy.” 11 Artworks, Bio & Shows on Artsy. Artsy. Accessed February 12, 2019. https://www.artsy.net/artwork/ushio-shinohara-ashura.
Peter Pellettiere – “An Exploration into Vegetation”
When an organism looks “alien” to us, what qualities does it have? You might imagine the lush, extra-terrestrial rainforest of James Cameron’s Avatar, or even the monstrous human-eating plant from Little Shop of Horrors.It may come as a surprise, then, to learn that often those tasked with imagining convincing alien plant specimens look first to earth-dwelling species. At the Slater Memorial Museum in Norwich, Connecticut, sculptor Peter Pellettiere is memorialized through a collection of his works which explore this same relationship between the Earthly and the otherworldly.
The Slater Memorial Museum is best known for its vast collection of antique plaster casts of ancient statues. When one exits the area where they are exhibited and enters the mezzanine where Pellettiere’s creations dwell, they might feel they’ve entered another world. As the room contrasts with the rest of the museum, exemplified by the emptiness of this particular exhibit and the echoing of ones feet, there is a substantial change in subject matter. The series of “floraform plaster sculptures”[1], all-white and situated on the cold stone floor of a small, glass-walled room, at first appear unfamiliar. The oversized plant specimens, each displayed upon an unadorned, off-white pedestal, give the room and its contents a sort of celestial sterility. The pieces are detailed with such care and specificity that they feel almost like objects of worship, and despite their apparent artificiality, that they might begin to breath at any moment.
Was it Pellettiere’s intention to create this atmosphere of uncanniness? The museum’s placard states that the series is “based upon his percept that all sculpture should bring together form and human concern; that it should thoughtfully convey the human condition.”[2] Indeed, while they first evoke images of the botanical, several of the pieces easily relate to the inner workings of the human body. One, clearly labeled as ‘Impatiens Bud’, appeared first to me as a simplification of the human brain and spinal cord. Another, labeled ‘Narcissus Bud (Double)’ is a bulb with offshoots that call to mind the valves of the human heart. Perhaps it is this mix of similarity and dissimilarity that evokes the label “alien” in many cases. I’m reminded of “the uncanny valley”, a term used to describe the strange revulsion many get when things appear human, but aren’t quite right.[3] Though most often used in relation to Artificial Intelligence, I feel it can most certainly relate to Pellettiere’s study into plant and human anatomy.
Pellettiere’s sculptures are in fact scientifically accurate. He took concise measurements of each natural form before scaling them up in size. They were then directly modeled in water-based clay over wire armatures.[4] I find that while these forms are in many ways familiar, buds and bulbs of common plants such as poppies and dogwood, they are presented so as to give an unfamiliar perspective. At a much larger size, we are able to see small details of each organism which are imperceptible in their natural state of being. Pellettiere also appears methodical in the way he chooses to crop the individual pieces. Only in the few examples of bulbs are we able to see an organism in its entirety. The buds, cropped just where they begin on the stem or slightly before it, resemble anatomical illustrations or models of human bodily structures. These techniques help to blur the line between humanoid and plant structure, allowing us to ponder what makes the two so different in our perception.
I’m unsure if Peter Pellettiere’s exhibit answers every question it conjures, but that may very well be by design. The botanical specimens so faithfully suggest human form that they feel neither plant nor human, at least to me. I feel that anybody remotely intrigued and not wholly disturbed by questions of the existential nature would find this collection a valuable and thought-provoking look at the often over-looked nature of life on and potentially beyond Earth.
Sources
- Zoe, Vivian, and Leigh Thomas. “New Micro-Exhibition in the “Bubble”.” The Muse, Summer 2013, 2.
- Ibid.
- “Uncanny Valley.” Wikipedia. February 20, 2019. Accessed March 04, 2019.
- Ibid.