Whimsy

Art Critic

This piece, approximately 20" tall is built from a discarded slice of luan plywood, a lightbulb base, a chain latch, a teacup shard, a lobster trap door, lobster trap slat with wire, 35mm film strip, and a keychain. 

Three Graces

Art doesn't have to be serious.  

Sometimes the image that strikes me leads to something distinctly NOT profound.

Although the IDEA of Art Critic strikes fear in the hearts of fine artists, the sculpture may not.

Three Graces, is made from Clementine Orange peels.mounted on bark.  One may wonder how often and  universal it is for artists to see the human form everywhere.  I do.

The Long View

Ultimately, all art is found art.  We find our subjects, or they/it finds us. We find our materials.  We find our inspiration.

Still, I enjoy what Howard Finster (http://www.high.org/Art/Exhibitions/HowardFinster.aspx) (http://www.finster.com/)  describes in the sign he created:

The work to the left by a Bamama, Mali artist was seen yesterday at the High Museum in Atlanta, Georgia (http://www.high.org/Art/Exhibitions/African-Art-Building-the-Collection.aspx).

The description of its purpose and creation is included here.

My work, although not intended as ritual or sacred, is also 'accumulative'.  If I sense an empathetic link to the Bamama artist, it is because I recognize that we are the hands that make the work and I feel that all artists experience the world through their medium.

Martyrs

The concept of martyr, for me has always been associated with the Christian era people: Jean d'Arc and the many who have been canonized as saints in the Catholic church.

As is most often the case with my sculptural work, I did not set out to sculpt figures of martyrs.
Jean d'Arc began with a washed-up handle of a paintbrush (no intended symbolism).  Something about the upraised arms were both feminine and heroic.  The addition of china shards, copper, wax, the posterior of a porcelain doll, wire screening, mounted on a roof tile fragment brought back from France created a miniature figure (6" tall).  The candle stub, both lit and recently extinguished, seemed appropriate to Jean d'Arc's destiny.

It turns out that martyrdom has its origins in Judaism.

Jews were "being executed for such crimes as observing the Sabbath, circumcising their boys or refusing to eat pork or meat sacrificed to foreign gods. According to W. H. C. Frend, 'Judaism was itself a religion of martyrdom' and it was this "Jewish psychology of martyrdom" that inspired Christian martyrdom."  From Wikipedia

Wikipedia's definition is as follows:
 A martyr (Greek: μάρτυς, mártys, "witness"; stem μάρτυρ-, mártyr-) is somebody who suffers persecution and death for advocating, renouncing, refusing to renounce, and/or refusing to advocate a belief or cause, usually a religious one. Most martyrs are considered holy or are respected by their followers, becoming a symbol of good leadership and heroism.

Two characteristic deaths associated (but not exclusive) to martyrdom has been burning and crucifixion.

The theme arose again last year with the piece below, composed of bone, cord, copper, 19th century clay pipe fragment, cloth, lead, marbled book cover, and Jerusalem stone (base).

It's pretty straightforward.

Animalia

 If I enter the studio without a clear figure in mind, what emerges can take a range of forms.

The horse figure on the heading of this blog came from an image I had carried in my mind for a very long time; that of the paleolithic horses found depicted on the walls of Lascaux cave in France.

In this case the piece began with the charred driftwood, suggestive of a horse's torso.  The other parts: a chunk of rusted iron, a leather strap, a bone, a strand of braided electric wire were used to suggest the anatomy of the horse.  The copper mane and the push broom base came last.

This became the first in series of animals, that interestingly represent the most important species that humans have domesticated.

'Horse' and 'Dog', shown here, are perhaps the animals that humans have bonded to most strongly.




'Dog'  (6" long, 3" high) is composed of a glass teacup shard, a chunk of lobster trap wire, rusted steel plate, frayed
rope, lead flashing, and some glove material.  The base is a piece of pine bark (woof!).

This piece also developed from my interest in paleolithic art.

There is something 'domesticated' about this creature:
perhaps the white bone shard on its back.

Made from a very decayed chunk of iron (a bearing case I believe), a porcelain electric insulator, coiled electric conduit, bone, lead, and (below the rear end) a drop of iron.

The Last Word

I might as well get 'The Last Word' out early.
Finding the bronze baby shoes, really beat up, triggered a thought that the original wearer of these shoes might be an old man (or already dead?).
But bronze baby shoes, aside from being starkly out of fashion, have a look.  Could I hijack the shoe for some other purpose?
















I also had an old cell phone (don't we all?) that surrendered to being torn apart.  As the keyboard evolved into the teeth in the mouth of my figure, the title came swerving toward me like a texting driver. 

Other road detritus fell into place: a shard of taillight, a flattened spray can, a brick.

This sculpture is 14" tall.  This is similar in size to many of the other sculptures I've created.  The size, I believe, affects the viewer's experience.  Smaller sculptures invite a personal experience, where as if this piece was 16 feet tall it would dominate the viewer.

Others have subtitled this piece, "Don't text and drive." 
Looking back at the history of modern sculpture, the inclusion of common objects in uncommon arrangements has enabled artists and viewers to re-frame the conversation to invite comment and introspection.
Comments welcome.

American Myths

Before smartphones, before digital cameras and camcorders, there was film.  Using crude machines that exposed sensitive chemicals we recorded our lives or the lives of others, or perhaps a moment in history.

This found object piece began with discarded things: a Brownie camera (shelf in a barn), a broken Statue of Liberty (found on the street in NYC), a glazing pipette (in a ruined pottery), a pulled molar (in my mouth) and some 16mm film (?).  They became, 'The New World'.

A rubber glove (washed ashore), bone (ditto), a movie reel (in an abandoned warehouse), piano wire (from a discarded piano), a cork and bottle shard (on a beach) became 'The Superhero'. Once one of these pieces seems complete, once the name gets attached, I need to check on the myth from which these compositions grew (in me?).  Are these two pieces evidence of American Myths?   I am between the generation that saw the United States as the 'New World' and the generation that grew up with superheroes as our role models.  Movies, once a rare and magnificent treat, spill indiscreetly out of my computer and flatscreen. From old found stuff, old stories emerge. 

Getting Jung-er

“I am no longer an artist interested and anxious.  I am a messenger who will bring back word from the men who are fighting to those who want the war to go on forever.  Feeble, inarticulate, will be my message, but it will have a bitter truth, and may it burn in their lousy souls.”

British Surrealist and War Artist, Paul Nash

“There are places, just as there are people and objects... whose relationship of parts creates a mystery.” (Paul Nash)¹

I have chosen two of my works that have a relationship to each other: Soldier of the Great War and Magnate.  These are found object sculptures utilizing items washed up on beaches or along roadsides.

Soldier of the Great War is a figure made of bone, lead, broken teacup, brass lighter cover, copper gas pipe, shell, shoe leather, shredded flag, and brick.  These, alone, unassembled, might make up the remnants of a soldiers kit.  However, they form a soldier, shot through the sternum, erect at attention, despite being neither in this world or the next.

‘Magnate’ is the soldier’s older contemporary, head of anthracite coal, plastic bottle neck, necktie, body of barnacle covered scallop shell, legs of plastic, bullet casing shoes.  His back is filled with newspaper clippings held in place by a sheet of black mica.  These elements, their texture and form, suggest a figure in command; a rotund figure stuffed with the daily news, whose posture is high-status.

Let me back up a bit, move out of the autopsy lab for a second.

I don’t go into the studio thinking, “I’m going to make a statement about war.”

It begins much farther back…

I am guided by a principle when I collect objects for my sculptural work.  This principle may have its origin in an ethic that desires to prove or persuade that the materials that art is made from are (ironically) immaterial.  I also have an ‘unconscious-brought-to-conscious’ affinity for weather-worn objects and bones (more on this later).  I’ve said that if someone gave me, or if there only existed, soggy newspaper or tennis balls, or dried leaves, I would still make the same art.  I am thankful though that these materials ARE discarded, washed up, run over, rolled in the sand, overlooked, waiting to be found.  It satisfies my sense of history in common objects.  The action of the weather, chance, or abuse, adds to the emotional potential of the final sculpture.  We are all weather-time-hazard-worn objects.

In looking back over my 50 years of making art, the material/media chosen has made little difference in the central theme of what I made.  Still, I (the intuitive ‘I’) am very selective.

Leaving this intention behind I quote Carl Jung “The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.”²

An object in the sand (or by the side of the road) draws my attention.  I have an immediate sense that it can play a part in a work although I don’t necessarily know what that work is, in specific.  I refrain from self-criticism yet when I pick it up and examine it, I may, upon closer examination, discard it.  Most often I don’t.  I place it in a bag and continue.  After a given amount of time, distance, road, or sand, I feel I have exhausted my ability to freshly choose objects.  At times, I find a perfect object shortly after this conclusion.  The objects then have to survive the travel to my studio.  If an object shatters, that is part of the selection process.

What occurs in my studio is this:  My worktable and shelves surrounding it contain the objects I have collected.  If an impulse gained upon picking up the object from its original location remains, I place that object in the front of the worktable.  As I gaze over the objects set out on the table, I allow the same intuitive pull to draw me to a second object and I place it in some juxtaposition to the first.

Here is where I enter the waking dream.  Once two objects are arranged, a momentum is begun.  Often, by the time a third object is placed with the first two, and I have a sense that I am present with the ‘dream’, a word emerges.  This word functions as a ‘working title’ or theme.

From this point, my intuition plays the role of supporting my intention.  With each additional object, attached to the previous ones, I can evaluate the effect and compare it to the ‘title’.  The title may alter at this point, usually to something more iconic or multilayered.  I continue to work until I can either see what kind of base the piece requires (stone, wood, brick, etc) or see what its presentational desire is.  Since most of these pieces are figurative, they tend to express desires of their own.

These two works were made in the context of the early 20^th century.  I knew, by the time they were taking their final form, that I had ‘made a statement’.

We tend to idealize the soldier’s world, fantasize it, cliché it, demean it.  The Great War (Sadly, known as World War One) utterly destroyed the possibility that ability as a soldier would count for anything.  Troops were mown down by mustard gas, air-bombing, machine guns, and influenza.  It was nothing short of an apocalypse.  The mental framework for the 20^th century was created by The Great War: our hopes for lasting peace, the planted seeds for succeeding wars, the hunger for more powerful and destructive weapons.

The ‘Magnate’ was participant in this cancerous growth.  Where the farm family lost a generation of children, the industrialists saw ten generations of wealth.  Where the European saw the land leveled and burnt, the magnate saw opportunity for cheap labor.

The Magnate devoured the wounded.

My attraction to the materials and to creating these two figures grew as I came to read the work of Carl Jung.  Although these works grew out of, “The debt we owe to the play of the imagination...” They also contain two of the primary archetypes described by Jung.

The Soldier has an aura of Innocent; Magnate is aligned with the archetype of King.  This can seem formulaic.  However, as I scan the media today, the classic books of the past, the actions of people, and history, I find that patterns appear. 

I’ve noticed, reinforced by reading Jung, that I have become more aware of the patterns of imagery and composition that have been a thread in my life and creative work.

³“Man's task is to become conscious of the contents that press upward from the unconscious. ” Carl Jung

Paul Nash said the “relationship of parts creates a mystery”. I see ‘mystery’ as a path that leads forward, that provides abundant clues but no final answer, that allows the contents of my unconscious or, perhaps, the collective unconscious, to press upwards.

I accept these mysteries.  I find that when I exhibit these works, they provoke responses; they are both beautiful and intriguing for my audience.  They may amuse because the objects that comprise the figures are ones that are macabre, pedestrian, or curiously historic.

Pat Conroy spoke about the effect of poetry. “It ratified a theory of mine that great writing could sneak up on you, master of a thousand disguises: prodigal kinsman, messenger boy, class clown, commander of artillery, altar boy, lace maker, exiled king, peacemaker, or moon goddess.” From Pat Conroy’s, My Reading Life⁴

The list he gives is precisely part of the cast of archetypes that surface when we pursue our practice. 

To become conscious of them strengthens the artist.  To be able to sink back into the pool of unconscious in exploration of the ‘mystery’ strengthens the work.

David Neufeld

November 4, 2014

¹ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Nash_%28artist%29

²http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/carljung125713.html

³http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/carljung114800.html

⁴ Conroy, Pat, and Wendell Minor. My Reading Life. New York: Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2010. Print.