In Search of the Miraculous

There is one artist that feel comes to mind a lot, dutch artist Bas Jan Ader. I thought of him when we were talking about Allen Lightman's book "Einstein's Dreams" and when we read about Ray Johnson. Bas Jan Ader is a conceptual artist who was a performance artist, photographer and filmmaker and his work became popular during the early 70s. A number of his performances are videos of him slowly allowing himself to fall. He falls from a chair placed on a rooftop, he falls from a tree branch, he falls into the river on a bicycle. The falls are so simple and deliberate they seem very elegant and affecting.





One of his best know pieces is a short film called “I’m too sad to tell you” where Ader cries in front of the camera for a little over 3 minutes. I feel like a lot of his work plays with the line between theatrically and sincerity and leaves you wondering what your response to him should be.



What I find the most fascinating about Bas Jan Ader was what I suppose you could call his final piece. In 1975 he set off on what he called “a very long sailing trip.” The trip was a part of a piece called “In Search of the Miraculous” in which he would attempt to cross the Atlantic by himself in a 12 ft sailboat. He hoped to make the trip in 60 to 90 days, but three weeks after he set off he lost radio contact and was presumed lost at sea. 6 months later his boat was found off the coast of Ireland, but Bas Jan had vanished, and his body has never been found. I feel like this story is a really good example of art and life merging. His disappearance is similar to Ray Johnson’s suicide, but it is less clear what Bas Jan’s intentions were and where circumstances took over. When we were discussing the different time scenarios we talked about being able to choose the moment of your death or at least being able to decide that this would be an acceptable time to go. I think that Bas Jan Ader being lost at sea was a really appropriate ending for him; it almost makes him seem mythical, more like a character from a legend then a real human being.
His website his a lot of his films and more information about the sailing trip.

Walking

Recently we read an excerpt from an interview with Werner Herzog in my sculpture class. Herzog is a German filmmaker who directed Grizzly Man, Fitzcarraldo, Encounters at the End of the World as well as many others. In the interview Herzog is talking about walking and how important traveling on foot is to him. Herzog explains that walking on foot is how we are intended to travel:

For too long now we have been estranged from the essential, which is the nomadic life: traveling on foot. A distinction must be made between hiking and traveling on foot. In today's society - though it would be ridiculous to advocate traveling on foot for everyone to every possible destination - I personally would rather do the existentially essential things in my life on foot. If you live in England and you girlfriend is in Sicily, and it is clear that you want to marry her, then you should walk to Sicily to propose.... The volume and depth and intensity of the world is something that only those on foot will ever experience.

Herzog tells a story about how he refused to fly to Paris to see a dying friend, but instead walked all the way from Munich because he could not accept that she might die. He said he walked against her death and knew that she would be alive when he arrived. She was and she lived into her nineties. I like to think that the faith that Herzog put in the power and efficacy of the act of walking actually imbued his journey with real potency. We have become so reliant on the things we have created to make our lives easier that we have lost touch with the importance of utilizing our given tools. Walking is a very primitive and basic mode of movement as nothing is needed outside of ourselves. We have taken what we were born with, our intellect and ingenuity and invented and produced so much to improve our lives that we don’t even need to make use of our skills anymore. I wonder if at some point we’ll start to slip back down the evolutionary slide because we don’t need to remember how to build, how to shelter ourselves to fend for ourselves or even how to walk to transport ourselves.

Seed Stage

This week I went to a lecture by Corin Hewit a sculptor and photographer. The piece he spoke the most about was a project called Seed Stage which was installed in the Whitney. For Seed Stage Hewitt built a room in the museum and filled it with a vast variety of materials and tools. He had various types of food including a root cellar where he could grow more vegetables as well as an oven, hot plates and all the equipment needed to manipulate the food. He also had drills, a bandsaw, materials for mold making and printers and various other objects and tools.


For three months he just worked in this space manipulating the objects around him in various ways and photographing them. The resulting photos were not manipulated in anyway and were displayed around the gallery.



Some of the photos are deliberately composed and some happened spontaneously in the space. Hewitt emphasized the importance of looking in this project. He spent the majority of his time looking at his surroundings and then working off of what he found. The corners of the room were cut off so the viewer could observe him and be a part of the looking as well. I really love this piece. In my work recently I have been thinking a lot about process and the actual action of creating your work and I really like the idea of just creating a space for yourself with this huge wealth of materials and then just working from what is around you. Manipulating objects purposefully as well as accepting spontaneous compositions and creations.
This video gives a really good sense of the piece.

Flying Kayaks and Mattress Monoliths

I really interested art that makes use of familiar materials, manipulating them in some way that changes the way we view them. Nancy Rubins’ work is a great example of this method. I love that something as utilitarian and simple as a mattress could be formed into this great impressive creation. She can turn something like a trailer that is usually viewed as ugly and unimpressive into something interesting and aesthetically appealing. There is also the element of impossibility and control to consider when looking at her work. When you look at some of Rubins’ sculptures it seems as if they are defying gravity as well as their own natures. There is no evidence of the support and structure holding up the trailers or boats and so once you have come to accept the fact that what you are seeing is an actual physical object you hold you breath hoping that the whole implausible thing doesn’t come crashing down before you. But of course it doesn't and so you look at it simply holding your breath.




Jessica Stockholder also utilizes a lot of found objects, selecting them for their color texture and form and combining them in a way that takes them completely away from their usual context. Her pieces are strangely familiar and totally bizarre pushing you back and forth between your living room and some strange otherworldly landscape. Stockholder talks about her work and her process in this Art:21 episode.




I find it intriguing to try and look at common or familiar things and appreciate them for reasons other then their utility. Sometimes this kind of realization just happens accidentally; you notice the way your comforter forms a smooth curve from you bed to the floor or the way a shadow from a pair of kitchen chairs is perfectly symmetrical against the wall. But sometimes it takes an artist who walks around the hardware store and buys 50 ft of hose because it is the perfect shade of green to complement the laundry basket back in their studio to make you forget about hoses and laundry and look more closely for a moment at all the colors and shapes and textures around you.