Cultivate Beauty 2008
On view May 9 - June 1, 2008
Artwork by Peter Bodnar III, Rebecca Chinn, Mitch Eckert, Rachel Eckstein, Robert P. Eustace, Amy Falstrom, Ivan Fortushniak, Molly Gabbard, James Grubola, John Paul Kesling, Darrell Kincer, Julie Leidner, Patricia Nelson, Bethany Pierce, Scott Scheller, Bryan Schutmaat, Mandy Sue Springer, Terry Tapp, and Matt Wilson.
On Beauty and the [Contemporary Art] Beast
Essay by Kenneth Hall
For Cultivate Beauty 2008
I begin with an apology. (against the advice of my favorite high school English teacher, the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People course I took as an engineer almost ten years ago, and my wife) As author of this essay, one could imagine that I am an authority on either Contemporary Art or Beauty. (I am an authority on neither.) I make art, so my insight into these larger spheres comes with some humility; I share these artists’ struggles for meaning and significance in a complex world. I will make a few broad, sweeping generalizations concerning my thoughts about our contemporary situation, but will also address more specific issues that I see evidenced in individual works from this exhibit.
Postmodernism as a place-marker in recent history has muddied the “pure�? waters of Modernism (think of Greenberg’s pinnacle phrases regarding the distilling of art into essential forms). Words like “deconstruction�?, “simulacra�?, and other puzzling terms reflect the state of confusion, fragmentation and chaos of our times. Postmodernism and its proponents did not create the confusion; they merely identified the deep-rooted symptoms of its existence. They also clarified the conditions that were emerging culturally as Modernism seemed to be collapsing under the weight of its own dogma. The vacuum that existed in Modernist art with respect to social responsibility has been filled in recent times (we will see more of this in the Cultivate Beauty work). Where Modern art largely avoided scuffles with the environment, social injustice, or politics, postmodern art is ripe with these concerns.
Beauty – as a larger ideal – is considered passé in the context of postmodernism. It seems that Beauty shows up as either something to be mocked (consider the chrome bunnies or giant flower puppy of Jeff Koons) or something to be mourned (take the pathetically morose paintings of Odd Nerdrum). In much the same way that painting has been repeatedly declared “dead�?, it seems that Beauty has also been given a burial before its time. How can one approach it with earnest? Yet it lives on (as painting has) in more subtle or complex ways than we might suspect.
Perhaps Beauty is connected with the urge to establish our humanity against the forces that tend to reduce us somehow to “less than human.�? My ten-year-old son once commented while we were watching a popular sci-fi movie that he could tell that the background was “totally CGI.�? (computer-generated imagery) I had not noticed. His perceptual skills as a net-generation kid were beyond mine in this area; he and others of this younger generation have highly-developed skills in identifying what is visually false.
Most artists of our times are keenly aware of perceptual effects and how they can be created through technology or “the hand�?. Less common is an understanding of the implications (how the visual qualities function with respect to art history, advertising, travel signage, etc.) of using these effects. Serious conceptual force is available when these visual qualities are coupled appropriately with specific cultural intent. I do not want to imply that artists need to fully understand all the possible implications of using certain imagery or effects, nor that they should make work that will be read by the viewer in a single, specific way. I am merely emphasizing that artists can re-capture a positively human viewpoint through their given medium.
Artists tend to be like prophets with respect to culture; they will stand (metaphorically, of course) naked on the street-corner declaring a message of repentance – from apathy, greed, groupthink, triviality, etc. They question what it means to be human in an age where the borders of technology and commerce so pervasively infringe upon our physical and mental space. In my own artist statement I talk of work that questions the nature of being human – of “having skin�?. I find kindred spirits in the artists of the Cultivate Beauty exhibit.
Rachel Eckstein’s photo-real Landscape With Gesture opens up several interesting lines of questioning. At first glance the piece seems to be a photograph upon which the artist has scribbled. The delicately drawn, soft-edged [graphite] background provides a romantic structure – the impression of sparkling reflections on a lake’s surface morphed into a soulish crowd by the camera’s optics. The distant trees form a boundary between the vaporous light and the sky, but float spatially. The gesture itself actually grounds the piece. We see the gesture as a figure – establishing a “figure-ground�? relationship – but also functioning to ground this piece in the stream of art history. I think of the scribbly gestures of Cy Twombly that functioned as “pure�? abstract expressions. Here, though, Eckstein’s gesture brings a host of implications: the fragile state of the man/nature relationship, the inability of the photograph to stand as visual “reality�?, and others that the viewer will discern in their own way. It clearly opens up an otherwise straightforward (even somewhat sentimental) landscape into a powerfully compelling statement.
Patricia Nelson’s Flagellate is a curious form that balances elegant repeating arcs and disks against crystalline forms that appear to blossom from the structure. The copper arcs are reminiscent of Balla’s Futurist “Dynamism of a Dog on a Leash�? and imply the rapid motion of the microscopic creature to which they refer. There is a kind of whimsy in this construction; the polka dots that pepper the structure are only remotely like the nucleus and other cellular structures we would expect to see from “the real thing.�? They are rather more like Lichtenstein’s Pop paintings of comic book heroes and villains in their larger-than life gliltz and glam. This object is posited as a contemporary life form, even while “reaching back�? to its art historical roots. The conceptual impact of the piece is enriched as it bridges historically back to diverse influences while simultaneously referring to the microscopic world its name implies.
Mandy Sue Springer’s Calling Them Weeds Makes Me Sad implies the artist’s ritual arrangement of green plants against a fallen tree trunk in a wetlands environ where the absence of humanity would rather be seen. A bridge structure in the background hints at development already-begun. These wetlands are probably in the crosshairs of urban planners and developers, yet the sacred activity of the artist makes a quietly poignant statement that defies the sprawl of civilization. The image itself is rich in its perceptual variations, coming into and out-of focus as we are led quietly through a place where we have rights only as a foreigner. We see the evidence of a soft-spoken language that is more in-tune with the nature it respects than our culture’s language of “Manifest Destiny.�?
Ivan Fortushniak’s Well is a stunning convergence of art historical moments, each fragment arriving with a unique voice and life-experience. The iconic format and numinous image of Christ suggest that we are to approach the piece as a sacred object. The lettering “of�? and distant water tower, though, suggest that Fortushniak is also speaking in contemporary vernacular (hinting at semiotic theory and environmental concerns). The girl with the bucket seems to stand-in for the “woman at the well�? of John’s gospel writing, and is staring mysteriously toward the ground, as if bothered by something. The odd way that the head of Christ hovers over the Claude Lorraine-ish landscape, somewhere between the girl and infinity, is reminiscent of Odilon Redon’s symbolist works – bringing in yet another historical voice. Is the piece about environmental concerns? Perhaps the water this woman drew has traces of polychlorinated biphenyls, like much of ours does. Is it about the revelation of the Messiah to a tramp whose life was changed in one fell-swoop? All of the above are possibilities, and Fortushniak has left the final interpretation to the viewer.
Finally, Brian Schutmaat’s photograph entitled, “Eileen, Winter Light�?, is a disarming image of a young woman who stands naked in a bathroom, hand pressed gently against the tile wall as if sensing the cold outside. There is a haunting intimacy to this work, which pits the warmth and fragility of this woman – bare skin, tussled hair – against the coldness of her environment. It is a situation with which we can empathize tangibly, yet it is also becomes a metaphor for solitude. The structures we build for protection also emphasize our aloneness. Can we momentarily “get into someone else’s skin�? to feel their pain; their loneliness? In a culture built for speed, power, and entertainment this piece resonates as something powerfully different.
While Beauty may have been eradicated in theory by postmodernism, we still see it experientially in contemporary work. The Cultivate Beauty exhibit demonstrates that Beauty is neither dead nor impotent. It is merely a bit more complicated in its expression; anchored a little more tenuously in our lives and surroundings.
