Sculpture as Dysfunctional Object When I began showing my work in Metro Detroit galleries, I was inclined to exhibit at every possible venue. By testing every possible venue, I started to understand what a “target market” was. I had the opportunity to set up a booth at the inaugural “Art on the Bay” Art Fair in New Baltimore, Michigan. Producing objects inspired by parallel universes and dystopias, it became clear that I was the black sheep at the fair by not selling trinkets and lawn decorations. I had countless elderly couples fresh out of church stopping by my booth with confused looks. Some had built up the courage to ask about my work, and the questions they’d ask could be distilled down to, “what does it do?” Being my first experience showing work outside of a classroom or gallery, it was almost shocking to hear such a dumb question. These people were at an art fair, not a Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I was stunned the first time I had heard the question, and the stun morphed into irritation over the course of the event. After the fair, I asked my mentor about responses to the stupid questions they’d ask at art fairs. His first response was, “Don’t show at Art Fairs.” At this point, I had probably internalized the notion that my work served no purpose for the general public, but I still felt the urge to appeal to “art people” and others I knew I could relate to. I pressed him for a better answer to help close this communication gap with a general audience, and my mentor recalled a response he’d given to last person to ask him what his sculpture “did.” “It makes you think” was his response that time. Checkmate. It was the perfect response. Art is dialogue, it provokes thought. That is the purpose! When people fail to understand this response, my mentor would follow up with, “I guess it didn’t work” leaving the inquisitive questioner feeling stupid for not asking a more targeted question. After some reflecting, I came to realize that asking “what something could do” is more exciting for everyone if the answer is more fascinating than the speculation. Out of a need to entertain myself in the next art fair I attempted, I’d make up elaborate stories for my strange objects. My studies in formal composition and materials became ‘inter-dimensional wormhole generators’ and ‘remnants from a broken future.’ I received snarky looks from those who realized the perceived vagueness of their questions, but those few gullible people represented the imaginative appreciation I had for these objects. I wasn’t entirely sure at this point what I was making art for, I had things I enjoyed looking at, methods of creating objects, and half-baked stories to tell. The enjoyment of provoking peoples imaginations is what drives me to create, and that’s what I look for in artists who inspire me. When I can ask myself, “What does it do?” I know I’m looking at a work that I can really enjoy. Works by Michael Dunbar, Lee Bul, Albert Young, and Lyman Whitaker have certain properties that excite me to ask, “What imaginary purpose/activity can this object serve/represent?” It could be the scientific nature of Dunbar’s enlarged antiquated astronomical devices for navigation, the simultaneous creation/destruction of Bul’s suspended works, the strangely bio-technological melding of Young’s glass and steel sculptures, or the strange wind-activated antenna made by Whitaker that make me want to make something that a simple explanation can’t satisfy. -Joe Culver
Posted on: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 22:19:41 +0000
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