Now and Then

Tonight, Gabriel Orozco spoke about his piece Mobile Matrix that is part of his mid-career retrospective that ends March 1st at MoMA. In this panel discussion, Orozco again pointed out that he shuns the imposed classifications of he and his work. These classifications frequently allude to he being a nomad, and his work being romantic or poetic in nature. He also brushed off those die hards who loved his dabbling with chaos and order in the nineties (with myself being included in that herd.) As I travelled home, I couldn't help but think about the role of the conceptual artist today.

Considering that my own work was deemed "too conceptual" by the Education Department of a major NYC museum just two weeks ago, the topic has remained in the front of my mind. In my case the museum felt that my work may be too cerebral for the common man. Orozco seems to be having the opposite effect. The art public adores his work, and shows their adoration by coming up with analogies or generalizations that are at times humble, but still simply human efforts to reach an understanding about his work and are then left to struggle with language to describe it. The artist (Orozco) rejects these simple classifications as he continues to change his work in what may be an effort to remain just out of reach, or else simply remain in the present.

It is hard to overlook the fact that Orozco once cupped clay in his hands, then opened that heart-shaped object to the camera, displaying it in front of his own bare chest. In another example he rolls plasticine around a city. This ball of material mimics his own bodily form by being the same weight as he. This performative act allowed the object to absorb the textures, substances and the experiences of a place. Both are blatantly sensual acts, but is it wrong to call them so? I am frequently accused of being a sensualist, but I cannot possibly reject the obvious. It is part of why I work in water and also in sculpture, the sensual is part of my nature.

So what do we do as conceptual artists, and at what point does the conceptual artist become a romantic notion in it's own right? Conceptual art isn't new by any means, and as we all know time has a way of romanticising everything. Orozco spoke as if the 90's were ages ago, while most of the people in my seat row and one panelist were still in art school in the 90's. The young Orozco still has a decade on many of the artists who were nurtured by his work while we were in school, or shortly thereafter. For me, the 90's are too fresh to be romanticised, while he seems to want his ideas from the 90's to go away. He lives in the "now," while many are still captivated by what was "then."

The Winter Studio

The Science lab that never ends...a view inside my studio

An entire month has gone by once again. It was a productive month full of proposal writing, prototype creation and display. It was a time to gather all things: materials, research, books, and every ounce of wit that I could muster. It seems that all signs are directing me to just keep going forward in whatever increment possible. I find it very easy to sleep these days, drifting off to the sights of new 'creatures' floating above my head. I think I have created the world's scariest mobiles, but to me they are dreamy even if they are

comprised of taxidermy beasts.

The novelty of the sea never fades, nor does my love of objects. I have been experimenting with new textures while trying to be more aware of my simple palette choices. The stark nature of off white bone and shell seems right with the cast away spools of ivory wool. Just as they all complement the clean lines and minimal works that winter inspires in me.

After a big push of work and reflection, it is now time to refill myself with an infusion of culture. Jazz, classical, ballet and even sport are going to fill my mind and heart again after these very long days. I think it is a just reward for having worked myself through the holidays. Maybe my holiday is due.

Summer dives

A detail from a study in adaptation. Recovered golf balls, urchin core, plaster on panel.

I know some of you may be thinking, "enough with the golf balls already." But I once again I spent a few days of my summer free diving for golf balls. How is that possible you may be wondering? It entertains me, what can I say. It is something that I cannot get out of my system. Something that I feel like I have yet to fully explore. So it remains there, hovering within me. I cannot say that it is simply the worn patina that the ocean currents have carved into their surface. I think that is part of their simple magic, but a fair amount of the allure impacted me one heat exhausted day in 2006.

One afternoon I discovered that the purple-black vanna (urchin) that inhabit the reefs of Hawaii can also survive in the rather toxic runoff zone near the hotel resorts. It is an otherwise barren wasteland of overheated water where little can survive, aside from the vanna (urchin) and garden eels (Moray.) The lava creates an undersea wonderland for eels who need a den. I discovered that there is a borrowing urchin that can be pinkish or purple (sorry cannot recall the species) that makes it's own borrow den in the lava rock at the bottom of the ocean. Where it got interesting was when I observed the urchin using a golf ball as a den door. It actually had poked its spines into the ball and then kept it as a shield on its back. When it went into it's borrow...it simply closed the door behind itself. Now for me, I found that to be an ideal adaptation to a compromised habitat.

So now, I keep rethinking and reinventing ways to incorporate this into my art. A new exploration uses a conch shell and the golf balls become barnacle like. I have to say it is striking with a nice balance of texture and shapes. Time will tell.