Objects Redux at Santa Fe's Form & Concept gallery

Fifty years ago, a hugely impactful exhibit of studio craft, Objects:  USA, opened at the Smithsonian's American Art Museum.  The work of three hundred craft artists was featured, and the exhibit traveled around the US and Europe.  This show is credited with sparking a wave of craft collecting by both museums and private collectors and a new openness to showing fine craft alongside fine art.  The artists in that show were and are legends in their field, and many of them taught future generations of craft artists.

Now to mark the anniversary of that show, the Houston Center for Contemporary Craft has organized the exhibit Objects: Redux: Fifty Years of Craft Evolution and traveled it to Santa Fe, bringing together work by artists from the first show alongside work by contemporary artists working in craft and mixed media.  I attended the opening of the show in Santa Fe, a gallery talk the next day by Houston curator Kathryn Hall and William Dunn of Form & Concept gallery. . . and I will return for a third visit to study these works some more.  Hall and Dunn emphasized that the Redux exhibit is not intended to present "the best" artists or work from then and now.  Rather, the intent is to present work from both periods that shows artists experimenting with materials and responding to the issues and events of their time.

For me the show is intriguing for several reasons.  First, there are stunning works by renowned weavers such as Hal Painter, Trude Guermonprez, Kay Sekimachi and Chinami and Rowland Ricketts.  There is a gorgeous chest by George Nakashima, three glowing knitted wire collars by Arline Fisch, and a luminous mahogany charger by Bob Stocksdale.  This work responds above all to the limits and possibilities of materials.  All of these works show the fine finishes, expert skill, and elegant unity of, well, form and concept in pure craft media.  These are qualities that I was taught to venerate in fine craft.  (I am the daughter of a woodworker who taught me to appreciate the precise, perfect dovetails and the silky finish of fine cabinetry.)  These works are perfectly executed and visually gorgeous.

Hal Painter, Wedded Rocks, 1980. Handwoven tapestry. 

detail, Hal Painter, Wedded Rocks, 1980. Handwoven tapestry.

Trude Guermonprez, Banner, 1965.  Silk hanging. Courtesy Forrest L. Merrill collection

detail, Trude Guermonprez, Banner, 1965.  Silk hanging. Courtesy Forrest L. Merrill collection

Kay Sekimachi, Ogawa II, 1969.  Nylon monofilament, glass beads, clear plastic tubes.
Courtesy Forrest L. Merrill collection

detail, Kay Sekimachi, Ogawa II, 1969.  Nylon monofilament, glass beads, clear plastic tubes.
Courtesy Forrest L. Merrill collection.  Photo by Sam Elkind

Chinami Ricketts, Noshime Plaid, 2019.  Indigo-dyed brown cotton, plain weave.

detail, Chinami Ricketts, Noshime Plaid, 2019.  Indigo-dyed brown cotton, plain weave.

George Nakashima, Kornblut Case, c. 197o.  Black walnut, maple burl.
Courtesy of Hunt Modern

Bob Stocksdale, Charger, 1986.  Mahoghany.
Courtesy Forrest L. Merrill collection
Nut with Spoon and Dish, 1970, silver, by Robert Ebendorf (left).
Untitled Vase, 1990s, silver by John Marshall (right). 

Just look at the beautiful detail on this silver vase! 

detail, John Marshall, Untitled Vase, 1990s, silver.
photo by Sam Elkind

Arline Fisch, Knitted Round Beads, 2017.  Coated copper wire, silver magnet clasp. 

Objects: Redux includes the work of contemporary artists that is for me at least a little more challenging to love on first sight, though I may eventually come around.  These artists have in many cases moved away from precious materials, away from a focus on a single medium or process, away from perfect finishes and elegant aesthetics toward something rougher, funkier, more mixed-media, ironic and critical.  These works challenge me to move beyond my expectation that work in craft media must be visually appealing above all (which is another way of saying it must please me and conform to my expectations if it wants my approval, right?).  These works pose questions and provoke puzzlement, consternation and conversation.

And yet all of this is of course characteristic of the broader movement in modern and contemporary art on the whole, away from "the beautiful"  toward a fraught engagement with issues other than perfectly elegant form and finish.  These artists whose work is more prickly are offering stories about their own identities and communities and investigating the history and culture around their materials.

Yuri Kobayashi, Curio, 2015.  Ash. 

detail, Yuri Kobayashi, Curio, 2015.  Ash. 

Josh Fought compiled a textile as an imaginative portrait of an ex-boyfriend.  It's meant to be discontinuous, puzzling, and multi-faceted.  It might be tempting to dismiss it as "sloppy" craft,  but there's more to it than that.  Faught is opening up textiles to voices, narratives, and ways of telling a story that haven't been so overtly included before.

Josh Faught, Max, 2014.  Handwoven silver lamé and hemp, nail polish, sequin trim, spill (resin) with broken Cathy mug, giant clothes pin, denim, silk, wine glass, toilet paper on cedar support

detail, Josh Faught, Max, 2014.  Handwoven silver lamé and hemp, nail polish, sequin trim, spill (resin) with broken Cathy mug, giant clothes pin, denim, silk, wine glass, toilet paper on cedar support

The Rickettses, Rowland and Chinami, grow and harvest indigo in traditional ways.  Rowland's work references the complicated role of indigo in American history and the integral part it played in the "triangle trade" that included human trafficking.

Rowland Ricketts, Unbound-Series 1 No. 4, 2016-2018.  Indigo and madder-dyed linen, undyed wool. 

detail, Rowland Ricketts, Unbound-Series 1 No. 4, 2016-2018.  Indigo and madder-dyed linen, undyed wool. 

Jennifer Ling Datchuk, recently awarded a United States Artist Fellowship in Craft, has done a take on macrame plant hangers that repays close examination.  The fibers she uses for the macrame are synthetic brightly colored human hair sourced from China via e-Bay.  The plant containers are blue and white ceramics chosen to reference Chinese and Dutch porcelain.  Datchuk says her use of "handwork, hair and ceramics [is] emblematic of the small rituals that fix, smooth over and ground women's lives."

Jennifer Ling Datchuk, Loving Care, 2019.  Porcelain, fake hair, porcelain beads from Jingdezhen, China, rope, ferns.  Made in collaboration with Marta Francine.
Background:  Arline Fisch, Knitted Round Beads and Silver and Lavender

MJ Tyson makes metal objects and jewelry from jewelry and household goods sourced from estate sales.  The pieces are formed from an unstable blend of metals--she fully expects them to degrade and fall apart over time.  The curator mentioned how disconcerting it was to unpack the crate containing Tyson's work and find bits and pieces that had fallen off the work.  Old stories are subsumed in new ones, and very concept of what is precious is called into question.

MJ Tyson, 102 Garden Hills Drive, 2017, personal objects belonging to the deceased residents of 102 Garden Hills Drive
On wall:  Rowland Ricketts, Drawings, 2019, composted indigo leaves, wood ash, lime, wheat bran, wool felt

MJ Tyson, 16 Summit Road, 2018, personal objects belonging to the deceased residents of 16 Summit Road

Those of us who work in craft media are continually re-assessing our approach to our materials, our subjects, and our methods.  Today we can make and show work that is startlingly raw, rough and confrontational if we choose.  If we are lucky our work contributes meaningfully to the wider conversation always going on between artist and artist and artist and viewer.  Objects: Redux will run through March 17 at Santa Fe's Form & Concept gallery.

Amateurs and pros, part 2

Last week I wrote about THIS article in American Craft magazine, considering the distinctions between hobbyists and professional craft artists.  I described how art historian Carolyn Fowler proposes that the key distinction revolves around whether the craftsperson "engage[s] questions in their work that interest the world of art and craft."  Fowler goes on to say that hobbyists may engage different, but equally valid and interesting questions. 

What does it mean to "engage questions in [craft] work that interest the world of art and craft" though?  That is truly the issue, I believe, and perhaps the clearest distinction between those who can be called serious craftspeople and those who may simply enjoy keeping their hands busy while they watch TV.

Not that there's anything wrong with that!  Lest you think I am an anti-hobbyist snob, let me point out that the bed quilt I am currently making is reserved for stitching on in front of the TV.  While I designed it myself (not in front of the TV!), I have adapted the motifs from other sources (Turkish tiles), and it follows all the rules of a conventional quilt:  made to be used on a bed, comprised of three layers stitched together, made of commercially produced printed cottons and constructed by conventional applique and piecing.  It is not innovative; there is nothing at all about it that would "interest the world of art and craft" but this project offers pleasure in the making, personal meaning and utility for me. And for this project, that is enough.

sketch for Iznik tile-inspired bed quilt

And yet I consider myself a serious, professional crafts maker as well.  I was flabbergasted that I sold nearly all of my fall/winter inventory of handwoven wearables this year!   Perhaps a person can be both a hobbyist, on certain occasions or for certain projects,  and a professional craft artist, in other contexts or mediums, at the same time?  Perhaps one distinction between hobby work and professional work is that the aim of the former is personal pleasure, utility, and meaning, while the aim of the latter may incorporate all those but also seek to engage a wider audience.  For the hobbyist, the point is to experience the joy of working with one's hands, with materials one enjoys, to hone one's skills and to make something useful and meaningful for one's home or for gifts for friends and family--all valid and satisfying intentions.  The professional does all those things but is making work designed for a wider audience, in full awareness of other work, past and present, that has been done in her medium.

When I weave scarves, shawls and wraps for sale, I am thinking not of my own favorite colors, but of colors that are current, popular, and versatile with most women's wardrobes.  I am thinking of designs that women of varied body shapes and sizes can wear in daily life.  I am thinking of how my pieces can be unique, special luxury items that are nonetheless affordable.  I am thinking of what I can accomplish on my loom, with my skills, using materials that I can  easily obtain.  But this work still does not "engage questions that interest the world of art and craft," because it is responding to what is rather than what could be.  It is essentially practical, traditional and market-based.

tencel infinity wrap

Two weeks ago I visited the  Iris van Herpen exhibit currently at the High Museum.   It is a mind-boggling show of what is possible in fashion for someone who not only thinks outside the box, but doesn't seem to have ever encountered the box to begin with!  Iris van Herpen, a young Dutch designer, addresses the supreme question that engages the contemporary world of art and craft--how to make it new.  She makes work using materials, structures, and processes that to my knowledge have never been used in fashion before.  Her designs are inspired by new information gleaned from science and technology.  In my view her designs are sculptures that happen to hang on a woman's body, rather than clothes a woman can wear in daily life.  This is craft raised to the level of art because it engages a very old question--how to cover the body--in startlingly original ways that acknowledge the contemporary world of ideas.  Van Herpen's work makes fashion truly new.

Chemical Crows, Skirt, Collar, January 2008; Ribs of children's umbrella, industrial boat filament yarns, cow leather, and metal eyelets.  Image courtesy of High Museum website.

In my own studio, I do attempt to engage questions of interest to the wider world of art and craft when I design and weave tapestry.  I am attempting to make it new, not by innovations in tapestry technique or materials (yet), but by exploring very old themes and subject matter in a contemporary context.  One question I am engaging is "Can anything  meaningful to contemporary viewers possibly be said about the Virgin Mary in the medium of tapestry?"  It is too soon to say.   For me now, the attempt is utterly absorbing.

The important thing, I think, is to be aware of what you are about, what your intentions are, when you engage in making.  Whether you consider yourself a hobbyist or a professional, what questions are you engaging?  Do you see yourself moving fluidly between categories, or firmly in one camp or the other? How is your approach to your work influenced by how you define yourself?  Deep questions!  Feel free to share in the comments below. 

Amateurs and Pros, part 1

There was an interesting article in the October/November issue of American Craft, entitled "Who's Afraid of Amateurs?"  You can read the article HERE.   Writer Monica Moses interviews Cynthia Fowler, an art historian who chairs the art department at Emmanuel College in Boston and has been researching craft hobbyists.  Fowler had some thought-provoking observations for those of us interested in craft, whether we are professionals or hobbyists or something in-between.  It turns out I have so much to say in response to this article that I have split this post into two parts. 

Fowler considers whether training is what distinguishes professionals from amateurs, or the ability to sell one's work consistently, but she notes that many successful professional craft artists are self-taught, while formally trained ones may be unable to sell their work.  So formal training and the ability to sell one's work are not really helpful in making distinctions.

Fowler points out that professional studio craft artists (such as those featured in American Craft magazine or at the highly regarded ACC shows) are leery of being lumped together with hobbyists.  Fiber artists are particularly leery, given the ways in which their medium has long been marginalized by a critical and scholarly establishment that privileges art by (white, male, Western) painters and sculptors. Fowler invites us to question "what interests are being served by maintaining a highly regulated boundary between the two categories" of professional and hobbyist craft, and who is excluded when one category is considered worthy of art-world attention and the other is not.  This is an excellent point, closely related to the old debate about where to draw the line between art and craft, and while it's an important question, it's not what I'm most interested in today. 

In the American Craft article, Fowler goes on to point out that professionals and amateurs actually have a great deal in common, starting with a deep respect for their materials and processes and a desire to grow in their own creative skills.  Indeed, many (most?) craft professionals likely started as hobbyists.  I made quilts as a hobby for a few years before I decided to take the next step and go to graduate school for formal training--and I found out about that grad school program at my local guild meeting of "amateur" quilters!  My current guilds, the Chattahoochee Handweavers Guild, Southeast Fiber Arts Alliance (SEFAA), and Tapestry Weavers South are a lively mix of professionals and amateurs, and we all are constantly learning from each other and supporting each others' efforts. Any line that might exist between hobbyists and professionals is a pretty porous one in the fellowship of these groups.

In fact, the classes I am currently offering through these guilds and, I'm excited to report, at next summer's national weaving conference, Convergence, are aimed at those makers who may straddle the line between hobbyist and professional.  My students are fiber crafters who want to go beyond simply acquiring new techniques to understand more fully and control more effectively the fundamental elements of the design process.  If you are a fiber artist who is hungry to learn concepts and approaches to design that you can apply to whatever medium or technique you may be exploring, look HERE for descriptions of my current classes and HERE for my 2016 schedule. 

So, to return to the article, if both hobbyists and professionals are committed to honing their skills and growing in their creative abilities, perhaps this distinction between hobbyist and serious craft artist is simply an academic issue after all?  A manufactured divide?  Fowler stopped me in my tracks, though, when she said this:

"Craftspeople who achieve the status of [Lino] Tagliapietra ['often called the world's greatest glassblower'] do so in part because they engage questions in their work that interest the world of art and craft."

Hmmm.  What does it mean exactly to "engage questions in [one's] work that interest the world of art and craft"? This is where I'd like to pick up the discussion next week.  If this topic interests you, go ahead and read the two-page article HERE.