Description



Steel Ice & Stone is a multi-media interactive installation.
Nine suspended LED panels and sensor-triggered sound create an environment for memory recall.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

All the Rage

As the opening of Gowanus Ballroom show neared, I was reminded that every exhibition has its caveats. An artist friend long ago bemoaned his gallery for barely helping him out when his art furniture was exhibited there. True, they had paid for its transportation, but not much else.

Let's think about this: what is part of the gallery's responsibility and what is the artist's job?

It's in the artist's best interest to see to the details so the work gets exhibited they way it was intended. Yet, the mission and policies of the gallery have to be respected. The artist begrudging forks over 50% of the sale price, but the gallery pays the outrageous rent on the gallery--since they're often in tony parts of town, employ those stunning, trendy-clad receptionists (male or female), make the phone calls to the prospective buyers and--most importantly--hobnob in the environments where those buyers lurk--scouting for them like cool but searing sharks.

The artist has to take care of the inventory--create it, crate it and hoof it to the white cube--
and call the maître d' to ask them to trade their opening night with another waiter....

Not in my case, since I'm working with public exhibition spaces where the altruistic nature of those involved makes them eager to be helpful. That was the case at ArtWorks, and it was also at the Ballroom.
The metal smiths, knowledgeable of what was needed, welded the eye hooks to the pipe which they supplied. And, they let my riggers use their equipment to cut the metal and operate the forklift to hoist them to the ceiling--really nice guys. It can't be overlooked that the place doubles as something other than an art space. The Ballroom's charm, its rough, underground energy comes from that fact. My pristine panels and sound in those surroundings fit just right--even if it went against the grain of what some consider art and an art space.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Open to Possibilities

The rigger casing the joint.
Apprehensions about working with students are not without foundation--their wild ambition and impulse can present set-backs, even when they arrive to a project with some experience and the best of intentions.

Not the case this time. I contacted my college's Entertainment Technology Department which offers courses in theatre engineering--everything from special effects design to performance rigs. Got a name and called him. Not a man of many words, my neck got a little kink when he said his cell phone wasn't working at the moment. OK, meet you at the Ballroom, I said.

He took a look and went to work. Brought an assistant who operated the forklift as if it were on toe shoes, skirting around sculptures in the process of fabrication. Another buddy came by and the three put up and took down the installation, getting faster and defter every time.


Australian artist Ken Unsworth creates a number of suspended works using rounded stones; some are high above, others hover close to the ground. His outdoor rendition appealing to me for the shadows it casts underneath it. Though it does get difficult to suspend objects without seeing the cables, it becomes an aesthetic decision for Unsworth's as the cables are carefully arranged.

Calder's work at the
National Gallery.
Though a stretch, Alexander Calder's mobiles can be considered suspended works. The fact that the components are dependent on one another for their location/orientation and are intended to move and create new combinations puts them above a suspended piece; I'm curious if his studies in mechanical engineering had any influence on his work (he said that he studied engineering for no other reason other than he liked a person who did). Stories like this are so much fun.

Another thought: Calder's work gets much energy from its motion, yes, but also significant are the shadows the pieces cast--and move--along the walls, adding a fleeting time component to his timeless work.


Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Craning the Neck

With a honed eye on anything and everything related to a facet of my installation, I smiled with delight at Jan Staller's White Series currently at Alan Klotz Gallery. I've followed Staller's work over the years, it remains sharp and surreal, a deliberate treatment of color which sings equally from 8-hour night exposures--like the one of the old West Side Highway on/off ramps--as the ones of construction items suspended from cranes outside his Charles Street place, as reported on the Gallery's website.
The white background of an overcast day reduces the size of the items; they take on a toy-like quality, but that reduction allows the eye to concentrate on the careful composition of the image. The NYT ran 15 images on their website (http://nyti.ms/1n3VYjJ); here are two I particularly like.

The ceiling at Gowanus Ballroom is in varying heights; upon entry, where SIS will hang, is around 20 feet; it opens to another section double in height which further breaks into a mezzanine which will contain more art and a low-ceilinged shop, off-limits to viewers. SIS could never hang in anywhere other than where it is; the ceilings would be too hard to negotiate.

Like everything else that has never been done before, it has to begin with a sketch.

The shop master drew what he was thinking for the riggers to follow; and it started to take shape. Saturday was a dry run; it took a long time. As a site-specific work, the installation must be designed anew every time it shows. Being open to possibilities,  deep breaths and smiling, and hoping that it works. In the end, it always does.
Friday in the afternoon, the entire installation goes up again, this time, looped through the metal pipe on the ceiling, according to the diagram. It's leveled off, and the electronics installed. I want to bring it there with just the volume needing adjustment. Then, it's show time!


Four of the nine hanging, still with their bubble wrap.