You know, I like this….I have to admit, in spite of myself. The premise is simple, the result is pretty cool. Uses unorthodox (and possibly really cheap) materials, reinvents space. I have these thoughts like I’m at a clothing store, but then the arrangement is too dense to actually go through the merchandise.
That illusion of towels passing through beams—even if it is intended—isn’t so assertive in person; this photo kind of exaggerates that read. I’ve seen this displayed like this, and I, at least, remember noting more the textures, substances, weights, balance, a certain purity, etc. than the illusion (which I agree would seem a little cheap). I have had all those impressions that Jen mentioned, especially rock strata.
Then there’s this conflict between the impression and the awareness of the actual substance of the things. The mind wants to read the stacks as two things at once.
Plus, the fact that they are really surgical towels adds another level of awareness and allusion. To me, the idea that the simple material, cool result that Sam talked about makes me so hyper-aware of the possibilities/limitations of the brain to run on different tracks simultaneously is great (possibly nice metaphor for awareness of other texts/bodies).
This impurity and variety of all those blues is very compelling.
Admitting my reactions are only based on the digital image, it is striking that theoretically, this shouldn’t work: the dirtying of modernist purity and the repetition of utilitarian (to some extent consumer) items are both common mannerisms from the last ten plus years.
But none of that does justice to the piece. It does pull in multiple associations, soaking them up like a towel. The folded towels have a swollen fullness to them that avoids any knowing sly winks. This piece is honest, heartfel even, but not sentimental. Is that an important quality, or is it too romantic?
The used surgical towels that jen reminds us of—it makes me think it’s a kind of elegy. There’s an element of the memorial wall–to everyday, domestic. The surgical towels–cleaned of the traces of their use–leave a question hanging in the air: is the ending a happy one?
i keep thinking on vc’s comment about the ‘fullness’ of the towels and how it acts as a deterant to the sly wink. i saw something a little while back that talked about a movement in some work toward a state of ‘excessive minimalism’. repetition that asserts the notion of something being essential rather than redundant.
this work feels like that. for me, there is a very languid, nearly opiate-ish feeling that it gives me. like, the sensation of that minor but continuous state of oscillation that takes place when you ride in a car or train… it just takes the edge off.
I think this also is only tangentially related to topics at hand, but since the discussion seems to have died, I thought I’d drop this in here. It’s a couple paragraphs from an NYT article on artist Barbara Bloom:
“It’s complicated,” she said. “If you’re cursed with good taste, then you’re not capable of making the ugly thing. But I am capable of making the beautiful thing that folds in on itself, or undermines itself. For me, the knob for ‘difficult’ goes together with the knob for ‘beauty’ — if one goes up, so does the other.”
The line between taste and art is one many artists are uncomfortable walking, preferring less (or perhaps more) charged topics. But for Ms. Bloom, they are interwoven. She does not even have a studio, working just a few feet from her living room (and carpet).
What’s the term, “soft minimalism”? Is that it?
“Soft ‘n’ Brite” minimalism?
You know, I like this….I have to admit, in spite of myself. The premise is simple, the result is pretty cool. Uses unorthodox (and possibly really cheap) materials, reinvents space. I have these thoughts like I’m at a clothing store, but then the arrangement is too dense to actually go through the merchandise.
I say ‘in spite of’ because I have to make a conscious effort to leave a bit of painting baggage at the door.
elegant
the illusion of the towels passing through the pillar is the kind of trickery that usually turns me off, but not this time
hey, vc. your “thing” is still a little mysterious to me, but, did you see this link on MMG’s website: http://www.minusspace.com/ ?
donald judd in denim
about?
sensual conceptualism
the color is really gorgeous. it’s just the right sort of blue.
things these make me think of:
scales on a fish
feathers
rock strata
Yes I like many things on minusspace, especially john zurier. (sorry to be off topic)
That illusion of towels passing through beams—even if it is intended—isn’t so assertive in person; this photo kind of exaggerates that read. I’ve seen this displayed like this, and I, at least, remember noting more the textures, substances, weights, balance, a certain purity, etc. than the illusion (which I agree would seem a little cheap). I have had all those impressions that Jen mentioned, especially rock strata.
Then there’s this conflict between the impression and the awareness of the actual substance of the things. The mind wants to read the stacks as two things at once.
Plus, the fact that they are really surgical towels adds another level of awareness and allusion. To me, the idea that the simple material, cool result that Sam talked about makes me so hyper-aware of the possibilities/limitations of the brain to run on different tracks simultaneously is great (possibly nice metaphor for awareness of other texts/bodies).
and, they are *used* surgical towels. which grates against the purity of that color.
This impurity and variety of all those blues is very compelling.
Admitting my reactions are only based on the digital image, it is striking that theoretically, this shouldn’t work: the dirtying of modernist purity and the repetition of utilitarian (to some extent consumer) items are both common mannerisms from the last ten plus years.
But none of that does justice to the piece. It does pull in multiple associations, soaking them up like a towel. The folded towels have a swollen fullness to them that avoids any knowing sly winks. This piece is honest, heartfel even, but not sentimental. Is that an important quality, or is it too romantic?
it is hugely important.
The used surgical towels that jen reminds us of—it makes me think it’s a kind of elegy. There’s an element of the memorial wall–to everyday, domestic. The surgical towels–cleaned of the traces of their use–leave a question hanging in the air: is the ending a happy one?
i keep thinking on vc’s comment about the ‘fullness’ of the towels and how it acts as a deterant to the sly wink. i saw something a little while back that talked about a movement in some work toward a state of ‘excessive minimalism’. repetition that asserts the notion of something being essential rather than redundant.
this work feels like that. for me, there is a very languid, nearly opiate-ish feeling that it gives me. like, the sensation of that minor but continuous state of oscillation that takes place when you ride in a car or train… it just takes the edge off.
jen’s last comment may have made this a moot point, but i was going to raise a comparison between miller gross’s work and tammi kennedy’s.
I think this also is only tangentially related to topics at hand, but since the discussion seems to have died, I thought I’d drop this in here. It’s a couple paragraphs from an NYT article on artist Barbara Bloom: