Finding the time

As the days are about to get shorter my anxiety grows; where I am going to find time for all that needs to be done, paid attention to, cooked, cleaned… the list goes on.  My mind always ventures back to making time for projects that are outside of my usual university routine.  Noticing that all of my regularly dedicated notebooks have become depositories for class notes and research for my Hesse project, I ordered myself a fresh notebook.  This one is to be all its own and separate from the daily grind.  My favorite notebooks (excuse the aside for those who are not as sensitive about their personal volumes) are from Piccadilly.  Their “Essential Notebooks” lay flat (great for lefties like myself) and have a great pocket on the inside back cover for little scraps and ephemera that will be immediately forgotten about.  It is nice to know that stuff goes somewhere, right?  Hopefully I will write more as the evenings begin to get darker.  It is time for these aspirations, in the infancy of fall in Portland, to become something real, something that I can relish in.

A final note: I just returned from a trip to Chicago at the beginning of September.  It feels like home.

 

Treasure trove.

It has been a morning of planning and list-making.  As I prepare for this trip to Oberlin, my mind, for the most part, has been filled with nothing else besides Eva Hesse.  Yesterday, I discovered the resources on the SFMoMA website related to their retrospective of Hesse’s work from 2002.  The following audio clip of Hesse discussing an element of impermanence in her work was especially moving to me:

Eva Hesse on Impermanence: http://www.sfmoma.org/explore/multimedia/videos/128

The audio is a clip from her 1970 interview with Cindy Nemser.  The interview was published in the May 1970 issue of ArtForum, the same month that she passed due to complications related to a brain tumor.

This summer will be one of constant learning and sharing — last night T and I had one of those wonderfully meandering conversations about art and writing and life.  All the while I kept playing these videos about Eva Hesse hoping they held that great epiphany.  I feel certain that there are several similar conversations in queue for the coming months.  Now it will be struggle to keep my head above water; the more I delve into my research, the more I feel the need to talk it out in all ways.

Here’s to summer, art, and learning.

I’m an open book

It’s been awhile — here is a taste of the goings on, Spring 2011 style:

1. I made a book!  A wild hair turned into a visit to Art Media turned into a punching/sewing/gluing afternoon for the ages.

2. Summer travel planning has led me to the Eva Hesse archives at the Allen Memorial Museum of Art in Oberlin, Ohio.  The wonderful people at the Museum are opening the archives to me for two days of original research.  I cannot wait!

Onward and upward — more photos to come when I have a moment to turn my concentration away from the end-of-term chaos that annually ensues.

1, 2, 3…

Just acquired this out-of-print Eva Hesse monograph by Lucy Lippard. As Hesse’s friend during her lifetime and a prolific art historian, Lippard interweaves biographical narrative and notes on Hesse’s drawing and sculpture. This will most certainly serve as my most important source throughout my work on Hesse. And so it begins!

All Right, Already.

In the words of Speed Levitch, Portland and I have gotten back together; we are “cruising” indeed.  Fall in this fair state forces everything to the ground and I cannot help but be swept up the crush of rain and fog.

I am making again.  I am reading — taking in.  For now, at least, this bug that is in me cannot stop coming out of me in ways that I could not foresee just a few weeks ago.

 

 

 

 

Tender Loving Coffee

Fall from the front porch of my apartment building.

 

A bit light at the top of the frame in this electronic copy, this photograph was taken on a bright, overcast day during a beach trip this past August. 5″ x 7″

Letter: Sol to Eva

My interest in the mysterious Eva Hesse was sparked in my Modern Art History class at Portland State.  Hesse’s crumpled, disintegrating forms are a push pull of the sythetic materials she employed and the fragility of her work that she saw begin to fade before the end of her life in 1970.  My professor added with her presentation that throughout her time in Germany from mid-1964 to 1965 (it was there that she broke away from painting and drawing to create her first sculptural works), Hesse frequently cooresponded with fellow artist Sol LeWitt.  I had to investigate these letters with the hope that I would come across one of these messages, even if only electronically.  I have included a transcript of one such letter below:

Dear Eva,

 

It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!

  

From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good “Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!

 

I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working -

then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO! 

 

It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible and hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty you [sic] mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.

 

I would like to see your work and will have to be content to wait until Aug or Sept. I have seen photos of some of Tom’s new things at Lucy’s. They are impressive – especially the ones with the more rigorous form: the simpler ones. I guess he’ll send some more later on. Let me know how the shows are going and that kind of stuff.

 

My work had changed since you left and it is much better. I will be having a show May 4 -9 at the Daniels Gallery 17 E 64yh St (where Emmerich was), I wish you could be there.

  

Much love to you both.

 

Sol

This is the letter that thrust me into a reading flurry and ignited my interest in these two artists.  Over the Summer, my initial excitement about this project faded as I reached a bit of a dead end: What am I going to write about?  Then I returned to this letter.  I am fascinated by the various ways one can approach a Hesse piece from both a deeply personal and/or purely technical point of view.  There is so much symbolism that can be interpreted in her work, yet she never commented on any specific connections to her past or personal life.  In various pieces these personal connections perhaps seem very apparent; the form of Hesse’s Repetition Nineteen III is said to reflect Jewish Yahrzeit candles celebrating the anniversary of a loved one’s death.  Furthermore, the piece was realized in the middle of Winter, close to the date of her mother’s suicide.  On the other hand, many of  her works represent her technical vision and leave no tangible clues for a personal interpretation. 

 

It is this contradiction of personal and technical that lends Hesse’s work to the originals insights of many.  My anxieties about the immense depth and variety of content on this artist will hopefully fade as I continue my reading and writing.  I hope to begin with an analysis of an individual work and to then move onto a detailed investigation of the themes discovered in the initial analysis within the context of her catalogue, life, and contemporaries.

 

Repetition Nineteen III at MoMA: http://www.moma.org/collection/object.php?object_id=81930

Hesse’s estate at Hauser & Wirth: http://www.evahesse.com/index.php

 

Image from http://joannemattera.blogspot.com/.  Hesse in front of Expanded Expansion, 1969.

Letter from http://jwvpk.wordpress.com/2009/03/10/letter-from-sol-lewitt-to-eva-hesse/

Gestures of Resistance

I have been absent for a period of evaluation and reevaluation — I am officially an Art Historian in the most fundamental ways; my hunger for context and a curious exploration and appreciation of the arts is ever-growing and and intensifying.  I have been most recently taken with the work of Eva Hesse (see the above banner image for a peek at Hesse’s Repetition 19, III) and will post an article on her life and work in the coming month as I continue my research and writing.

I leave you with images from the Museum of Contemporary Craft’s Gestures of Resistance, on now until June 26.  So far six artists have come through the Museum and left their mark(s) on the exhibition.  Unfolding since January 26 with Sarah Black and John Preus’ Rebuilding Mayfield installation and concluding with a performance by Theaster Gates, June 18 through 19, Gestures has been an exploration in “craft action.”  I was in the space when Ehren Tool was throwing his wonderful clay cups for his Occupation performance and captured these images on my cell phone.  Gates will be in residence for two days this week applying a porcelain slip to what has become of the exhibition thus far and will be concluding his time at the MOCC with a performance in the space.  Gates will be at the museum this Friday, June 18 and Saturday the 19.

Ehren Tool's "Occupation", performance view, June 3, 2010

"Occupation," June 3, 2010

Back to Basics

After a bit of a dry spell, I was able to get back to the darkroom this week.  The results were a few prints from a recent trip to Seattle.

“Van Gogh’s Ear” by Adam Gopnik | “The New Yorker” (January 4, 2010)

Adam Gopnik’s article in the January 4th edition of The New Yorker attempts to explore an alternative account of the story of van Gogh’s severed ear. However, Gopnik’s exploration into the story behind the ear becomes the background to another theme is more prevalent by the end of the piece: Everyone goes out on a limb.  Van Gogh, and others like him, break the limb and we, the spectators, benefit indefinitely.

Although it is easy to scoff at stories that fall along the lines of a lost ear, we rely on these tales for the art that is produced to compensate for our own tenuousness.   Without van Gogh’s missing ear, pieces that are considered part of the canon of modern art would not exist (i.e. Starry Night, 1889). And if such works were still constructed, yet completely void of tragedy and pain, they would not be at the forefront of the art criterion. 

This same concept can be applied to American mass culture.  Celebrities such as Tiger Woods and Pete Doherty (of Libertines and Babyshambles fame) are pushed into the spotlight because the average American finds them fascinating, if tipping the scales of popular morality a bit.  These men are masters of their craft, Woods as a golf prodigy and Doherty leading the Post-Punk movement of the early 2000′s, yet their given talents are forgotten in favor of the sensational stories that they are tied to.

One can conclude that the tales behind men, and art, of popular interest are what make up the significance of their contributions.  The artist would say that it is ideal that the work speak for itself, but we tend to build our world around the myths behind the material.  Film and novels of little substance and merit are on bestseller lists for weeks sometimes if only for the author’s surname.  These are the works that will be remembered because there is a great story tied to them.  That is not to say that van Gogh was not an artist of substance or skill; as Gopnik points out, van Gogh was fully committing to his subjects and technique while other Impressionists of his era were wasting time competing with one another.  Van Gogh’s vision, use of color, and absinthe-soaked fantasy have forever redefined the boundaries of painting.  However, his work is that much more in the consciousness of the art world because his story is one of tragedy.  It is not rare for an artist to have died young, been an addict, or to have had a troubled childhood.  Yet it is important to remember that these are often the artists that will go on to be part of mainstream culture. There are thousands more that will come of age in an equally exciting time in the art world that the public will never grace with their interest.  Would the Sunflowers series (1888) be as intriguing if there was not the legend of van Gogh associated with the work?

Gopnik’s message is best understood in the last two paragraphs of his piece where he says, “Van Gogh’s ear makes it’s claim on the world’s attention because it reminds us that on the outer edge of art there is madness to pity, meanness to deplore, and courage to admire, and we can’t ever quite keep them from each other.”  Art carries with it the turmoil of life and places it, literally, right before our eyes.  For a work to find legitimacy in the public sphere, it nearly always requires an interesting tale – be it fact or fiction.

Light in Progress

A project for Portland State University inspired by Eugene Atget’s ”Coin de la Rue Valette et Pantheon” (1925) and images of Old Harbin, China.  Both are pictured below.

 Coin de la Rue Valette et Pantheon, Eugene Atget (1925)

Old Harbin at Night, 1920s Postcard

The next step is the installation of lights in and through lids that correspond with each box and then cutting out the bottom of each box in favor of using the lids as bases.  The quality of the following photos is not ideal, as I am without a high quality digital device, but the basic idea is there. 

Each small box is a component of a larger image.

Detail of one box; the lights will come through the bottom and will be sealed from the top using the paper image.  I used vellum in areas where the light will shine through with the hope that it will diffuse the light evenly throughout each compartment.