An open letter to my favorite sculptor
Dear April,
I have been meaning to write for quite some time. I composed this letter in my head weeks ago, later wrote it down, and promptly failed to mail it. I really want to talk about your new work, though.
The forms you are creating are exquisitely grotesque. What I mean: they disturb me, which is to say that they do not affect me as sculptures but as living things. Unlike some contemporary art I've seen that seems to have, as its primary function, production of revulsion in the audience without addressing why the audience should be feel so, no larger message, your mark as the artist/the author tempers the disturbance by the attention to detail and obvious skill enshrined in each piece. Your work isn't haphazard or easily duplicated. It is not ironic. I am so tired of irony. I long for a little more sincerity in all art, visual, written, and so on, and think precisely because it is so hard for me to be only sincere, to risk being perceived as sentimental. My cynicism often translates to irony in my own work; it's a protective device, one that you don’t seem to use. If you do, you have me fooled, girl.
Notes on the individual pieces: You’ve titled it “Inanimate.” I’ve been thinking of it as “Void” for two reasons. 1) The obvious empty space in the cavity. I know you’ve made spheres to place inside it, though. 2) Ex nihilo, out of nothing, out of the void, the way Christians say God created the world. Maybe it does not contain life yet, but it is swirling into being. Really the movement of this inanimate object is lovely. I wish you could display it on a slowly rotating disc (electric Lazy Susan). I would like to know more about your concept for this and the other “internal abstractions” you’ve been calling into physical form. You’re playing with texture and the idea of vessel. If we are thinking about interactive work and the future, what about a vessel that resisted being filled or one that resisted being emptied?
There’s a wonderful, scary inside-outness to all of these, but especially the Connections trio, which I believe serves your controlling idea well. I’m partial to “Scaled” and it’s gestured, straining throat, the open mouth. Is it screaming, crying, singing? Don’t tell me. I like to think it’s doing all those things at once. “Scaled,” though, how do you mean it? Like rough skin coming off? Because I know you, though, I think there’s a chance there’s a connection to the scales falling from Saul/Paul’s eyes. Forgive me, if I seem dense. I like that its neck is a change of texture that organically proceeds from the rest of the body. I think that all of these pieces seem to be missing their skins, exoskeletons, or shells. (I’m thinking that I’d like to see what you’d do to capture the explosive qualities of the process of flipping one’s self inside out. These have some that already, and your bronze piece from way back is ever exploding.)
Perhaps because it has some of that hard, solid stuff, “Bone Dry” is the one that really bothers me, makes me anxious (these are good reactions!), but the sharp, familiar (though somehow not quite human) vertebrae is so beautiful-like a safe space for the dizzy eye to rest.
Are you happy with the patinas? I only ask because you seemed like you wanted to do something different when you texted. Have you ever used just wax on your fired pieces? Can you do glazes or do you not have the right kind of set up in your personal studio? I’m not sure of the method, but I was looking up finishing options. I think “Bone Dry” looks excellent. And I like the hints of brighter colors on the “Inanimate” Spheres.
I hope that a little bit of audience feedback is helpful in seeing how your work is viewed. Of course, I’m just one person, and I think I left out some things I wanted to say, because my computer restarted as I was originally typing this.
Always eager to see more of you and your work,
Leslie
For those of you wondering who April is and what these sculptures look like, check out her site.
