Art practice in the new millennium has increasingly become defined by a rigid practice of frameworks that strive to examine how humans comprehend visual and sensory experience.  One such artist invested in exploring this concept to its full potential is Spencer Finch.  Finch’s current show at Mass Moca entitled What Time Is It On The Sun? navigates the psychological factors that shape perception in a variety of mediums.  The work walks the tight wire of being highly abstract but equally representational at the same time. “There is always a paradox inherent in vision, an impossible desire to see yourself seeing. A lot of my work probes this tension; to want to see, but not being able to,” Finch says in a catalogue for a 1997 show at the Wadsworth Athenaeum in Hartford, CT.  The subjects tap cultural signifiers that are as wide ranging as measurements of light from the lost city of Troy, to wind patterns recorded at Walden Pond, to Crazy Horse’s prohibition on photography’s power to steal ones soul.

There is a certain risk in placing so much emphasis on content that is driven by cultural moments.  The danger in placing such a requirement on icons of familiarity is that they border on being a gimmick when repeated.  Despite the artist’s reliance on making work that utilizes these devices there are numerous works that are completely engaging. One such occurrence is the piece, Night Sky (Over The Painted Desert, Arizona, January 11,2004) that confronts the viewer from the ceiling in the first room of the exhibition.  Finch’s installation of Eighty-five light fixtures and 401 incandescent lamps is a visual response to the artist’s experiences, working outside in a parking lot with a flashlight in Arizona’s Painted Desert.  The artist mixed a variety of paints in an effort to match the color of the night sky.  By weighing the physical mass of each individual pigment in the mixture the artist was able to calculate the molecular ratio of each color in the combination.  The resulting models represent a particular atom of each pigment’s molecular structure.  These scientific engagements are utilized throughout the work in effort to initiate connections between consciousness and experience.

Spencer Finch, Two Hours, Two Minutes, Two Seconds (Wind At Walden Pond, March 12, 2007)

Finch draws his inspiration from cultural tourism of landscape as well as from writers Thoreau, and Dickinson, among others.  In Two Hours, Two Minutes, Two Seconds (Wind At Walden Pond, March 12, 2007) there is a clear tip of the hat to Thoreau as the writer lived at the pond for two years, two months, and two days.  Finch countered by measuring wind patterns over the pond for two hours, two minutes and two seconds.  The resulting sculpture recreates the experience through the use of a dimming board controlling fifty-four plastic fans set in a semicircle in stacks of four.  By using industrial materials through poetic means, Finch is putting forth the possibility of transformative experience through installation art.  The artist is playing an interesting game with the world of conceptual art, which is historically considered one of de-materialization; Finch is trying to move beyond that dialogue.  Sure, most of the materials used are likely to be found in any American home, but Finch is one of the many artists looking to   the possibility of transformative experience through taping into collective experiences of humans.  The likelihood of being overwhelmed by the scale of the pieces, a goal of many installation artists, is doubtful nonetheless.  Finch’s engagement with the world and material is much quieter.  How he deconstructs experience through visual and sensory means takes alot longer to fully understand.  The issues put forth in the exhibition of difficulty of fully comprehending human experience will always require thoughtful investigation.

Finch has been able to respond to cultural issues that seem unable to fade from an interesting standpoint.  For each generation, there are indescribable cultural moments that each individual seems to remember what he or she was doing in that instant.  The artist reconsiders that notion by attempting to paint the exact color of Jackie Kennedy’s Pillbox Hat that she wore on the day of President Kennedy assassination in Dallas.  The resulting effort is 100 paintings of different tones of pink hung in a linear grid.  The work comments of how experience is unequal in description between language and vision as it is nearly impossible to describe the difference of each color of pink in words.  In addition, Finch never claims which painting represents the exact color (if any.)  The forty some odd works on view at Mass Moca do not all carry this kind of rigor but are nonetheless represent fourteen years of the art practice of constantly re-evaluating through vision.

What is truly spectacular about the show once you get beyond the sublime use of the space is the consistency in which it is applied. The pieces are loaded with the social commentary of traditional Chinese folklore and heroes such as Genghis Khan. At the same time the works delve into more latent issues of Chinese identity such as the last fifty years of communist China, Mao Zedong, and the Cultural Revolution. Cai’s own beginning in art took place during the shaping of the Cultural Revolution in which he began to study Chinese landscape painting and calligraphy as a boy. He remembers his father during that time owning a bookstore, in which he secretly gave Cai copies of “Death of a Salesman” and “Waiting for Godot” when most western books had been banned.

As a global artist, Cai is most effective when gunpowder is involved. The use of explosive material mirrors the idea of terror both in contemporary times and also historically in ancient China involving the spectacle of fireworks. War and power are constantly circling throughout the exhibition but Cai addresses them directly in two pieces that involve gunpowder. The first piece The Century with Mushroom Clouds: project for the 20th Century, is presented at four sites (a nuclear test site in Nevada, Michel Heizer’s Double Negative, Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty and lower Manhattan) where Cai recreates the iconic symbol of a mushroom cloud. The second uses the Great Wall of China in a way that once again specifically addresses the land-art movement of the nineteen-seventies. The method he employs by detonating charges in the ground extending ten thousand meters from one end of the wall comments on growing global presence of China on world affairs.

Cai Guo-Qiang, Inopportune: Stage One, 2004

The work as a whole takes a lot to develop from vision to reality, as it is largely the product of biennials, and grants. One of the successes of the exhibition is that the work is being presented during an increasingly commodifiable period in the art market. For much of the work to be fully realized Cai must employ technicians and trades people in order to produce works that are mostly specifically created for museums and site-specific experiments. That is not to say however that the gunpowder drawings are not as successful due to being more traditional, they are some of the best the show has to offer. In totality, Cai is part of a trend that comments on the politics of society without being totally restrained by it. That notion is comforting, when much in the world is so unsettling.

I have been thinking about getting back into blogging for awhile and for some reason, today felt like the right time. The semester has started up again at school and my creative mind has started rolling again. Westerns have been on my mind this week, probably due to the fact that I have still not seen No Country for Old Men, and there has has been some really weird cowboy-related news this from the world of entertainment and politics.

In the past couple of days an article about George W. Bush’s favorite painting has surfaced on the web. Bush views the painting (in which he owns) of a western cowboy serving his christian ideals of a greater good. Instead the painting actually depicts a cowboy escaping his captors. O how the the classic western struggle of freedom versus the civilized self plays true! I personally was hoping it was going to be a Richard Prince photograph instead, but I think the irony holds stronger with the story behind the Koerner painting. Additionally, in strange cowboy-related news actor Heath Ledger, famous for his role in the film Brokeback Mountain, passed away at 28. His death and short, but accomplished film career mirrored many talented actors that have played similar roles and had untimely deaths before him. It will be interesting to see if Ledger is iconized as other entertainment figures have been after death with a cowboy-like mythology.
Richard Prince, Untitled (Cowboy), 1989

Matt Cheney, Pink on Black, oil on canvas

I have always wanted to sky dive. Lately, it has been on my mind with the 83 year-old George Bush Sr. jumping out of a plane this weekend and also due to the paintings of Matt Cheney.

Cheney who is a self-described “action artist” graduated from the Art Institute of Boston where I am currently pursuing my undergrad. I sadly didn’t have the chance to meet him and only heard about his work almost as a myth in itself.
His skateboarding paintings in which he builds a ramp between the canvas and skate back and forth while making considered swipes across the canvas. What I find most compelling beyond the obvious references to a skateboarding Jackson Pollock is his dedication to process in taking his art to newer genres.

This is demonstrated clearly in Cheney’s newest series where he attempts to paint the plane he just jumped out of while skydiving. My own interest as a photographer is the quick, reactionary process he is involved in something which i pine for sometimes in making my own photographs.

I have been wondering lately about the newest MOMA show entitled New Photography 2007, which showcases the work of Tanyth Berkeley, Scott McFarland, Berni Searle. I have hardly heard anything about this exhibition from anybody other than the powerhouse that institutionalized photography in a museum setting.

Luckily, I am not the only one that is wondering. I read a wonderful article in Big Red and Shiny this week by Carl Gunhouse that investigates the historical perspective of this yearly show, and also the artists and their work.

Instead of going on a big ill-advised rant I encourage you to read the article. I’ll be back soon with more thoughtful posts.

I was going to write a post about Colin Blakely after I saw some of his work floating around after being in the 13th Annual Griffin Exhibition. Initially I responded to the lovely quality of the imagery in an age when fine black and white photographs are seen less and less in a gallery setting.

Then I found out the context of the pictures as being a sort of cross section of a place, more specifically a place that attracts thousands of fans for a few months for college football. However, the moments depicted in the body of work are quiet, contemplative stories about where people live as members of the suburban existence.

© Colin Blakely, The Shadows of Promise

The idea that there are both people that live in this community defined by academia and also “visit” in the form of recreation is something that interests me about the project. Blakely states:

“Having shunned the constant call of the “suburbs,” we live in a small neighborhood close to downtown. Here, the passing of time is defined as much by the rituals we collectively participate in as by the months on a calendar.”

And in addition, the title of work is phenomenal.

© from the New York Times

Spurred on by articles in the New York Times on the new Bob Dylan movie and the casting for the Biggie Smalls film I have been thinking about celebrity likeness or dislikeness. Our fascination with celebrity never seems to dissipate even if the likeness is not the best. I had mentioned this idea early this summer in talking about Greta Pratt’s piece 19 Lincoln’s. What I find most interesting about this new set of “biopics” is the interest in style over accuracy. This formula sometimes does not make the most interesting film as was the case in Marie Antoinette.

Dianne Weist in Edward Scissorhands, 1990

© Cindy Sherman, Untitled

One of the things I was wondering about in photography is if accuracy matters in the face of being “artsy.” I may be the only one that sees the likeness between Dianne Weist’s character in Edward Scissorhands and this Cindy Sherman picture some years later, or was it somewhat of an inspiration for the Sherman piece.

What I do see in many of the retakes of celebrities of our popular cultural is reverence. But what about cold reverence for a photographer that decontextualizes in the first place. Is Duane Michals mad that Cindy Sherman’s pieces sell for more than his or is he just playing?

© Cindy Sherman, Untitled Film Still #13, 1978

© Duane Michals, Who is Sidney Sherman?, 2000

The work holds a solitude in my mind that feels at peace with the winter but is always at odds with the summer months . One of the best photographs that exemplifies this is the photograph above with the hammock title Daydream. The image screams barbecue, lemonade, and picnics. This comparison made sense when I learned that Robinson is from the South.

© Lisa Robinson, Blue Ice

What I like most about the minimalist work is that the photographer lets the images speak for themselves and be just what they are. It is refreshing to see that in the art world.

© Mike Smith, Blountville, Tennessee

I have known the work of Mike Smith for some time now but have just recently been able to see his book You’re Not from Around Here: Photographs of East Tennessee for the first time, thanks to my roommate.

Smith is able to offer some freshness to the land of southern Appalachia with an eloquent touch even being an outsider from the North. This is a commonality that most of the individuals that have traveled to Appalachia to make images over the last fifty years have shared.

The photographs show a comfort that Smith recognizes between its inhabitants and the landscape. Despite the stereotype of people living uncomfortably in shacks along swamp-dotted creeks Smith paints a slightly different picture that understands the visual past of Southern Appalachia. The images represent what photography does best, just by being there. Though the images are not objective in manner, they signify what a outstanding maker of photographs can do when they know the medium so well.

© Mike Smith, Unicoi County, Tennessee

Smith said it best about how he saw the visual world of his subject:

“I moved as a “Yankee” to East Tennessee in 1981 to teach, and ever since I have been fascinated by this region, a part of Southern Appalachia, where the predominate geography is its legendary hills. The shape or form of these hills, when seen from the right distance, with an appropriate camera lens, fit almost effortlessly into a 6 x 7 cm. frame.”

I may have witnessed on Sunday the last day of Coney Island as many people of this generation know it. It was my first visit this weekend and I am extremely thankful to be able to witness one of the greatest cultural institutions this country has to offer. As I started to understand the history of the amusement park in a clearer manner I began to understand the visual connections that went with it.

Selections from Bruce Gilden’s Coney Island © Magnum

As rich as Coney Island is in cultural history it also shares a rich photographic history with the photographers that have traveled across the boardwalk such as Weegee, Bruce Gilden, and Walker Evans among countless others. Even Thomas Edison film a there at the now burned-down Luna Park in which he demonstrated the power of alternating current (AC) by electrocuting Topsy the elephant.

© George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress)

It is unclear what Coney Island will look like come next season as numerous plans have been introduced. Any new plan will have to be approved by the City which already has a shaky record on the World Trade Center rebuilding project, the West Side Rail Yards, and Moynihan Station. One thing I know is that what happens to the amusement park will be because of our efforts (or lack there of) I think it was best explained in a New York Times editorial about the closing of the closing of the original Penn Station:

“Any city gets what it admires, will pay for, and, ultimately, deserves. Even when we had Penn Station, we couldn’t afford to keep it clean. We want and deserve tin-can architecture in a tinhorn culture. And we will probably be judged not by the monuments we build but by those we have destroyed.”