Showing posts with label sculpture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sculpture. Show all posts

Fundació Joan Miró: Autogestó






















Autogestó

Curator: Antonio Ortega, Adam Nankervis
Exhibition Dates: Februaury 16, 2017—May 21, 2017

Fundació Joan Miró
Parc de Montjuïc
08038 Barcelona
website

Autogestó includes work from Adam Nankervis' another vacant space project, of which I am a long time fan and contributor. Antonio Ortega writes, "Self-organization provides a genealogy of artists from the 1960s on who have been developing strategies to recover the authorship of their own narrative. The exhibition is also an attempt to understand recent art and confirm the current validity of these dynamics." Desire Line, 2005, is the piece selected by Adam Nankervis for Antonio Ortega's exhibition.


Desire Line, 2005, C-print mounted to Sintra and Plexiglas, h 70.5” x w 3” (right image: detailed enlargement)

Desire Line presents the entire cast and crew of a single movie on one vertical support the precise height of the artist. As with the companion video Desire Lines, the title of this piece refers to the landscape architecture term of the same name where the placement of concrete sidewalks is established by the organic paths worn into the landscape by foot traffic.


A Chinese Brick


















A Chinese Brick

A polystyrene brick was produced in China. It was formed to appear slightly damaged and painted to seem weathered and used. It was then exported to Japan. It was purchased in Tokyo in the Ameyoko, a series of alleys and streets filled with shops that were formerly a black market in postwar occupied Japan, and then was transported to the United States. It was brought back to Japan, then passed through Hong Kong on its way to Italy. It now resides amongst the faux ancient ruins of the Pontifical Irish College at Via dei Santi Quattro, #1 in Rome.

In the Street

A copy of Helen Levitt, Janice Loeb, and James Agee's 1948 film In the Street was brought from New York City, bootlegged in Beijing, then left on a blanket of a man selling copied Louis Vuitton bags on the sidewalk just outside the ancient markets of the Roman Forum. An Italian psychic transmitted this information to everyone participating in a large, open-call exhibition at Shoshanna Wayne Gallery in Santa Monica, CA.

A dangerous letter sent in the spirit of friendship

A dangerous letter sent in the spirit of friendship, 2011, h 11” x w 8.5”, 1 page letter, black and white text, sand

The letter reads:

113 West 60th Street, RM 423
New York, NY 10023

Saturday, December 9, 2010

An Exchange with Sol LeWitt
c/o Cabinet 300 Nevins Street
Brooklyn, NY 11217

Dear Ms. Basha

Please find enclosed sand from Tottori, Japan where Hiroshi Teshigahara filmed his 1964 film Woman in the Dunes. If you have seen this film, then you understand how dangerous this sand can be. Accordingly, I have included only a small amount with this letter.

Thank you for your consideration,

Stephanie Francis

A Very Slow Rhythm


A Very Slow Rhythm, December 8, 2007, 12:02 PM – January 12, 2008, 12:13 PM, printed balloons (watte kudasai - pop, sutte kudasai - inhale, atarashii fuusen ni iki wo haite kudasai - exhale into a new balloon), pin, locker, Tokyo Shimbashi Station Karasumori exit 4, underground level B1F

Off the Record, curated by Eric Van Hove, hijacks the X-CUBE© locker system which allows multiple users to exchange packages by using a touch screen and their cell phone numbers as digital keys. The curator places the artwork, invites the first person to the exhibition by registering their cell phone number, then the invited viewer uses their cell phone to unlock the locker and view the work. The next person is invited by registering a new cell phone and in this manner the exhibition travels out into the world.

For A Very Slow Rhythm a balloon was blown up with a single breath of air in New York City, mailed to Tokyo, and placed in a locker in Shimbashi Station along with 25 empty balloons and a pin. Once the international journey was complete, the focus of the project became the transference of the single breath of air from visitor to visitor. After popping the balloon, participants breathed in the previous donor’s breath, then filled a new balloon with their own exhalation. Used balloons slowly accumulated in the locker forming a record of the communal breathing – a simultaneously anonymous, yet intimate exchange. At the conclusion of this project, the last balloon was returned to New York and the original breath of air was reclaimed after being shared by numerous individuals.

A Triangulation (Japan)





A Triangulation (Japan), 2006, MDF, paint, c-print mounted to aluminum, video, written text, Queens Museum of Art, southeast ramp, Flushing, NY. Sculpture: h 91.5” x w 46.125” x d 46.125,” destroyed, image: h 6.57” x w 9.1,” video: color, sound, total running time 30 seconds, looped. Writing: tri-fold printed handout.

Special thanks to Eric Zeszotarski of Solid Studio.

(Foreword and first entry from ten field reports)

Subject: Foreword
Date: June 19, 2005 9:32:03 PM Japan Standard Time

I was initially pleased upon seeing Cinderella Castle in Tokyo Disneyland at the Tokyo Disney Resort in Japan. Its duplication of Cinderella Castle in The Magic Kingdom at the Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Florida was precise to the smallest detail and seeing it was like reuniting with a long-standing friend. Still, in short order the comforting familiarity was replaced by mounting anxiety and a vague sense of dread. Yes, there was an abundance of grey stone, gold trim and royal blue in the rooftop shingles. Yes, the trickery of forced architecture operated in the same manner as its companion in the United States, yet something far more powerful and inexplicable was at work than simple perspective deception. Seeing this building replicated accurately in another country had the consequence of destabilizing my sense of orientation. Somehow this doppelgänger, because of its stubborn, insistent sameness, operated effectively in inverting everything that surrounded it. This baffles me.

I understand how Cinderella Castle’s combination of architectural styles taken from various castles and chateaus in Europe is not terribly odd in and of itself, since the Disney “Imagineers” wanted their castle to be as genuine as possible; all the same, seeing this building exported from France, to Florida, then on to Japan creates a double displacement of an uncanny nature and merits closer investigation. I intend on exploring this predicament of authenticity further during a fact-finding mission to Florida that will be unified with my explorations from Japan. Understanding how the Castle compromised my sense of grounding is of primary importance, particularly as I am a simultaneous critic and fan of “The Happiest Place on Earth.”

442 days later…

Subject: The Happiest Place on Earth 1
Date: September 4, 2006 11:30:21 AM Eastern Daylight Time

So, I am 100 feet inside the park sitting on the steps of City Hall looking around. The train at the Walt Disney World Railway just gave several quick toots and an "all aboard," another group is off on a circumnavigation of the park. The familiar smells of popcorn and vanilla float on the breeze and the Main Street Transportation Company just pulled up, its clip clopping barely audible above the sound of the band bouncing through a homecoming march; even so, I must say that I am a bit on edge because in addition to presenting my ticket at the gate only moments ago, I was also asked to present my index finger for a fingerprint scan. This is the beginning.

Seeking to understand the disorienting effect of the Cinderella Castle at the Tokyo Disney Resort in Japan, Stephan Apicella-Hitchcock subjects its image (and those of its twin at the Magic Kingdom in Orlando, FL) to some forms of displacement reciprocity. In a spare installation, a looping video captures the Tokyo Disney Castle on a cloudy day spinning around the edge of the screen. Near the video, a simplified silhouette of the castle, bisected by its copy, hangs upside down from the ceiling like a stalactite. A third element, a photograph from Orlando’s Disney Resort, further complicates the entertainment franchise’s aggressive innocence and its disorienting duplications. – Herb Tam, Associate Curator, Queens Museum of Art.

A Triangulation (Italy)/An Island


A Triangulation (Italy), 2003–2006, 45 rpm silver master plates, h 12 3/8" x w 22 3/4" (framed) An Island, 2006, C-print (from a Super-8 film frame) mounted to aluminum, h 6 1/2” x w 9” (image) h 9 1/16” x w 11 5/8” (framed)

Have you ever seen Buster Keaton going out a doorway? He turns right, then he suddenly turns left, then, spinning on his heels, he abruptly reverses direction and heads off to the right as he initially started. It is impressive to see his original intention, his deviation, his realization, and his modification occur in the space of a few short moments. As well as the physical agility demonstrated in this comedic instant, one also might detect a compressed set of emotions in the scene that range from desire, to failure, to subsequent redemption – the fundamentals of a classic narrative. In a sense, the improvisations that occur when actuality tempers our wishes are a skeletal array of touchstones for this project; nevertheless, they are points transposed from the period of a few moments in the space of a doorway and stretched out into several years on the Tyrrhenian Sea.

In 2003, I set off for the Aeolian Islands north of Sicily, the island of Lisca Bianca specifically, to find the character Anna who disappeared from Michelangelo Antonioni's 1960 film L'Avventura; however, I accidentally went to the wrong island. I returned a year later to the right island and swam ashore, but I found nothing. Sound recordings were made during both voyages of my boat’s small outboard engine as it labored in transit to the wrong and right islands and my grand journey eventually assumed the diminutive and archaic format of a 45 rpm record, Going Towards the Wrong Island and Going Towards the Right Island. The unique, silver master plates for the A and B sides of the record are presented in A Triangulation, their encoded sounds and story clearly visible, yet ultimately inaccessible, as the master plates cannot be played.

Working alongside the two reflective plates of A Triangulation is the third component of the project, An Island. A single reel of Super-8 film was shot in a continuous take during a 2006 return to the Aeolian Islands, yet the objective was not to travel once again to Lisca Bianca, but to navigate accurately to the wrong island. Although the film itself was never intended for presentation, the very last frame of the film, the end, was selected for enlargement. This singular frame is the trophy from a return trip to an island that formerly represented a colossal blunder on my part. As well, the last frame of the footage is a bookend, providing finality and closure.

The title, A Triangulation, refers to a navigation technique whereby the properties of triangles are used to precisely determine a location by means of compass bearings from two points a known distance apart. Within the context of this project, one might consider the technique of triangulation in relation to positions in time, as well as in regards to physical location; conversely, the numerous ambiguities, deviations, as well as the mysterious disappearance of Anna at the core of this series of expeditions, operate in stark contrast to the exactitude of the triangulating process. Along these lines, the vaguely titled, An Island, also plays with notions of accuracy by utilizing an indefinite article to describe the island that is neither clear, nor precisely defined. Although we know that An Island is not the right island of Lisca Bianca, it becomes questionable whether the original name wrong island is entirely useful, particularly given that the island was traveled to intentionally and successfully on the most recent trip. As with many different types of adventures, transformations have emerged en route: objectives have changed, techniques altered accordingly, and original presumptions questioned.

2.35: 1


2.35: 1, 2005, Marine fir plywood, PVC, h 48” x w 30” x d 70.5”, destroyed (image: installation for Palimpsests at Gigantic ArtSpace, New York, NY)

The title 2.35: 1 refers to the proportions of a motion picture screen's width as compared to its height. The aspect ratio of 2.35:1, or widescreen, allows for extraordinary formal dynamism and is the ratio often used for epic films. One might then say that despite its modest size, this is in fact a grand sculpture, as its footprint is precisely 2.35:1. The sculpture transitions from floor, to ramp, to stairs, to ladder, to the vertical portion of a skateboard ramp, continually increasing tension and mirroring the dramatic progression of events in epic films.

Special thanks to Eric Zeszotarski of Solid Studio

In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct



In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct, 2004, Marine Plywood, CD player, 2 speakers, audio: total running time 32 seconds, looped, h 5’6” x w 32’ x d 4’9”

In twighlight, general outlines of ground objects may be distinguishable, but the horizon is indistinct, 2004, is a 32-foot wide staircase that has been truncated at its third step. The staircase would connect to the upper level of Smack Mellon gallery, were it to continue. It is constructed of Marine Plywood in homage to the minimalist objects that in part inspired it. Speakers hidden beneath the two endpoints faintly play in continuous loop the first few bars of a rendition of Perry Como's Sunrise, Sunset. This project is a collaboration with Christopher Ho.

Special thanks to Eric Zeszotarski of Solid Studio

Outdoor Area



Outdoor Area, 2003, 2 humidifiers, seawater, 1 CD player, audio: total running time 4 minutes and 33 second, looped (installation views)

Outdoor Area consists of two humidifiers filled with seawater from an inlet immediately outside and visible through the gallery windows. Additionally, a CD player on a continuous loops an audio recording of the exhibition curators – a Norwegian collective – standing as silently as possible in the gallery for 4 minutes and 33 seconds. This project is a collaboration with Christopher Ho.

Live Act



Live Act, 2003, fog machine, industrial lamp, dimensions variable, location: Tou Scene, Stavanger, Norway

In Live Act, a fog machine in a recess of a factory’s wall intermittently produces a dense fog. The fog gradually dissipates and is dramatically lit from within at night. Part of NuArt, an annual arts and music festival in Stavanger, Norway, Live Act references the site’s history as a factory, as well as the theatrically of the bands performing inside. This project is a collaboration with Christopher Ho.

Microviews


Microviews, 2002, 600 photographic images each in tabbed hanging files, 5 modified file cabinets, 6 chairs, monitor, video, color, silent, total running time 30 minutes, looped, l 24’ x w 1’6” x h 3’. Installed at: The Municipal Art Society, Urban Center Galleries, New York NY and Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, One Wall Street Court, Second Floor, New York, NY

Microviews collects photographs and other documentation of the World Trade Center made by over 70 artists participating from 1997 – 2001 in a studio residency program located in Tower number one. The materials are individually filed, systematically categorized by formal characteristics, and cross-referenced. The file drawers rest on a base of five vertical file cabinets that lie on their sides. Additionally, a wall-mounted video silently flips through the images in the cabinets, which remain on screen for approximately 3 seconds each. Microviews provides no single way to navigate the archive. Rather, its system of cross references allows for an infinite number of approaches to each image, which in turn acquire different shades of significance depending on the particular sequence of images leading up to and following it. This project is a curatorial collaboration with Erin Donnelly, Christopher Ho, and Moukhtar Kocache.

White Almond


White Almond (3 views), 2001. Wood, melamine, Plexiglas, handles, hinges, wheels, w 35” x d 35” x h 86”, destroyed

White Almond is a framing device not unlike a camera. It is a catalyst, an exploratory probe, a gauge, and, at times, something akin to Ikea furniture. Upon first inspection, it may lack a certain immediate specificity of function, yet indistinctness is in fact one of its engineered traits. It is approachable at its core, having intentionally absolved its fixed command of space and strict clinical nature to become a non-threatening, mobile, and simultaneously stylish addition to a space. The primary usage is, but not limited to, the formation of a dialog between an individual and the space of a wall or closet. It has less in common with a litmus test, in which a single factor determines the outcome, than the projective Rorschach test and its stress on series and cumulative interpretations.

Special thanks to Eric Zeszotarski of Solid Studio

Core Samples (for Smack Mellon Gallery, Brooklyn, NY)



Core Samples, 2000, C-print mounted to wood, melamine edging, h 16’ x w .5", destroyed, bottom image: detailed enlargement. Installed at Smack Mellon Gallery, Brooklyn, NY for White Hot curated by Regine Basha and Moukhtar Kocache.

Core Samples catalogs the entirety of my high school cassette collection in miniature and presents it, in the spirit of the sixteenth and seventeenth century Wunderkammer, with less an emphasis on categorization and a greater focus on unexpected juxtapositions.1 Similar cassette collections of several key high school era friends are included to indicate the collective musical findings of a time period. I am interested in paying homage to obsolete technology and taste.

For this sculptural manifestation of Core Samples, verticality, as well as references to archaeological measuring devices, and geologic stratification, are enhanced by compressing the piece to the width of one cassette stack (from the width of fourteen in Core Samples for Cabinet Magazine), proportionally yielding a slender, sixteen foot tall sculpture. The piece is installed discretely amongst the gallery plumbing and electrical conduits in Smack Mellon Gallery in Brooklyn, NY.

1 Adalgisa Lugli, a contemporary Italian art historian, writing on Inquiry as Collection notes wryly how the seventeenth century museum “was still conceived as a place where... one could move about without having to solve or face the problem of continuity.” – Lawrence Weschler, Mr. Wilson’s Cabinet of Wonder: Pronged Ants, Horned Humans, Mice on Toast, and Other Marvels of Jurassic Technology, New York: Vintage Books, 1995; p. 83