September 30, 2005
Plasticity of Motion
While old fashioned, the reading provided for an in depth re-evaluation on the way in which i move. I do realize, that Stanislavski intends his assertions for the stage - but one can hardly help feeling some degree of insecurity - to almost empathize with the test subjects. One often takes the corporal body of flesh for granted, and is slave to the fashions of the current high culture. To think with any practicality is difficult. The concept of two ways to walk is almost novel. Of course we think of actors as abstractions - embellishing and modifying what is commonly accepted as reality...
read more.
Posted by alex at 09:00 AM
Technologies Change
Reading through Bill Viola's statements, what struck me most is his refusal to be tagged with the label of "video artist" and how it relates to my initial experience at ITP. As the first few weeks of school have passed by, I find myself thinking more and more about technology as a tool for the expression of ideas, and not the end in and of itself. As advances in technology increase at an astonishing rate, I find that it is of extreme importance that the medium does not become what drives people to create new forms of media. It is individual creativity, imagination, and the willingness to fail every once in a while that needs to drive the new media creators and designers of tomorrow.
Finally, I was intrigued by Viola's quotation of the Persian poet Rumi who stated that necessity is what opens up new organs of perception. In many ways, I feel that ITP has created the type of environment that has allowed us, as students, to play an active part in different areas of new and interactive media creation that we may not have had any previous experience in. In this way, I feel that we are all well on our way to increasing our perception, one small experiment at a time.
Posted by Fernando Cervantes at 12:44 AM
September 29, 2005
Building a Character
I found Tortsov's notion of energy inside us which creates 'plastic motion' to be particularly intriguing. The idea the an inner movement being the basis for plastic motion is fascinating. With relation to our current motion assignment: By connecting the points on our acetate we can begin to capture and visualize plasticity. Whether the motion captured is 'plastic' or not is an entirely different story, for an entirely different day.
Additionally, I also enjoyed Tortsov's notion of the continuous line being an omnipresent element not only to dance, but in design, architecture, and art as well. By relating the continuous line to other disciplines, Tortsov is able to extend this idea across all mediums. I liked this mainly because I believe to to be true.
Posted by DelGaudio, Michael at 11:39 PM
Developing Three Dimensional Space
A place I recently found myself observing perspective was inside the Milwaukee Art Museum designed by Santiago Calatrava. In the interior passageway of the main hall, Calatrava uses organic form to create multiple narratives. Calatrava is able to create multiple narratives by inviting visitors into the cavities and naves, of the hollow, negative spaces created by the organic form.
In the model below narrative is represented by the colors green and orange. Multiple narratives are created (or obstructed) depending on the placement of the viewer.
Posted by DelGaudio, Michael at 10:40 PM | Comments (0)
Rigidity of Fear
Stanislavsky's writings bring us back into and remind us of the wonder of our bodies. His exploration of motion continues a general push in this class to explore the beauty and power of the every day. The fantastic is very near at all times, magic and power. There is an encouragement to empower ourselves with what we have, to not feel like the answers lie elsewhere. The human experience is so strong that it affords us the ability to do absolutely anything we want. The process only requires effort and a re-connectedness. We have to move back from the distance we have created from our bodies and our minds.
The essay discusses how to undo the damage but it doesn't address how people end up the way they do. Not only their posture and their constricted way of walking but their general outlook. Is this like a subcounsious Harrison Bergeron? Is it that we have lost a context for our inner strength and run away from its power? Is it that it is not encouraged?
I also love the idea of the unbroken line that connects and is the definition of art. It's the connections between fragments which create meaning and beauty.
Posted by Bukhin, Mike at 09:38 PM
September 28, 2005
Noguci Museum Pictures
Posted by Espinosa, Carmen at 02:48 PM
MY NOGUCI MUSEUM TRIP
Although I don't think of myself a newcomer into the city of NY, I do have to admit that taking the train out of Manhattan was something that I had only experienced a couple of times in my life and the trip to the museum was only about the third time I did it, which made it still very interesting. I also have to admit that I do not know how to ride a bicycle, therefore the instructions Jean Marc gave us to go to the museum via bicycle roads, was a bit irrelevant to me although I may contemplate jogging the trail in the near future.
Even though I was not able to visit the additional stops Professor Jean Marc recommended us along the way to Queens, I did enjoy very much the 10 block walk from the train station to the museum and the sculpture park adjacent to it. The sculpture park was a great experience, it gave me a very comforting feeling as I walked around the sculptures and also seeing how little kids, as well as adults interacted with them. Some of the sculptures entered peoples' spaces inadvertedly, either through sounds, or by someone accidentally stepping on them. After I walked around the park, I appreciated the roughness of its terrain, it made the sculptures play well with this background, I specially liked the depiction of Robin and the other characters right at the entrance of the park, almost in a "welcoming" position, and the soft sounds of the metal/rubber wind chimes, and the way they looked against the Manhattan skyline.
My next visit was the Noguchi museum, right down the road from the sculpture park, the second I entered this blocky building, I felt cold, and it was weird, specially since it was a very hot afternoon, but I believe this cold was not only provoked due to the air conditioning in the building, but by the massive stone sculptures located right at the entrance and the darkness of the room compared to the sunny outdoors. As I walked to the other rooms, this feeling changed for an admiration to the purity of his forms, the cleanliness of the lines and the softness of his textures, the way the light stroked the sculptures. I also liked the way he mixed other media with the stone, the use of old thick pieces of wood as stands, and in some occasions also as part of the sculptures. It gave them a sort of warmth that contrasted very well with the cold feeling you get when you touch a stone.
Posted by Espinosa, Carmen at 12:52 PM
Trotsov listens to opera
Tortsov must be a fan of opera. I connected to Stanislavski cynical point of view as he described his encounter with Tortsov. I agree that everything changes when put on a stage. Maybe it has something to do with the sudden jump in elevation or the chance to be the superstar you always hoped to be. Everything ceases to be natural and we begin trying and perform “better”. We become more conscious of our posture, how far our feet are apart, if our toes are pointed forward, one foot directly in front of the other. However unnatural it seems, putting our body in this awkward position must some how be better than we normally conduct ourselves. Is the way the dancer contorts his self into a complex pose better than how I stumble into my regular slouch? The dancer may be viewed as more graceful and elegant, but in no way can it be considered more natural; artificial comes to mind. I look opera the same way, the human voice being contorted into an inhuman wail. Trotsov seemed so adamant that it takes constant awareness to walk correctly, taking every muscle, bone, and nerve into consideration, as if everyone had been walking incorrectly all along. Yet Stanislavski felt that people thought him drunk as he practiced Tortsov walking exercises in public. I thought of Marey and his studies into movement. The most inane movements such as walking, hammering, standing from a sitting position, became beautiful and elegant as Marey separated the changing positions over time. There is no “correct” way to walk or to stand from sitting, beauty arises simply form the movement. I would imagine that Marey’s studies into movement would show irregularities in people’s walks as unique variations on the standard waddle of modern man.
One thing that I did have to reevaluate was Tortsov’s idea on a continuous line of movement as in music. First, I wondered what Tortsov would think of Drum & Bass music and break dancing, where disjointed starts and stops directly link to the dancer to the movement. Then Tortsov transferred a motion down his arm as he counted the timing of a 4/4 rhythm. It seemed to me that he had disproved his theory of a continuous line, cutting the single movement into four separate segments, but then I recalled his detailed description of the sequence of muscular events required to take a single step and realized the linear path that is innate in all movement and music. I like the idea of a linear path more than a continuous line. Maybe it’s the time we live in, with all it’s non-linear capability and wonderment, that make me skeptical of accepting that everything is always a continuous line mp3 vs. 8-track cassette, break-beat vs. opera.
Posted by Leif Mangelsen at 09:21 AM
Naturally Live Plastic
Only one word was left after reading “Plasticity of motion” by Stanislavski, “Natural.” Whether it was due to the fact that his description about the motion was so vivid, it seemed to me as it was living, breathing. Even in his comparison made with a Pullman car or with a railway carriage, it sounded very mechanical with the strict repetition and pattern, but beyond that there was a natural energy. Although the title “Plasticity of Motion” conveys different idea than the one I just expressed, I like his expression about the energy, the fuel that pumps up a human body. Moreover, how he approaches an action as a result of a massive infrastructure is very unique. Sometimes it appears to be very mechanical and unnatural, but the inline correlation that lies within the structure certainly demonstrates a kind of emotion, an expression. Naturally. Gradually. Structurally. Everything seems very step-wise, and very observational. Was he really observing or imagining? This is one question that I always had while reading this text. Maybe too much attention can drive you to imagine.
Lastly, his notion about the inner flow of energy within the plasticity of the movement with his usage of the word “plasticity” is very expressive. He is someone who truly knows the “beauty of movement.”
Posted by Tae Ho Yoon at 04:28 AM | Comments (0)
Unlearning the rigidity of motion
In "Plasticity of Motion," Stanislavski demonstrates that he had to unlearn his typical ways of movement in order to achieve fluid motion. I find it to be such a delicious paradox that he had to investigate the discrete components of his anatomy before he could enjoy them as one harmonious system. I would really like to apply this process to the design of spaces, but I am not sure that I know which components to begin investigating for causes of tension. What is the equivalent to Madame Sonova's imaginary mercury that I could make flow through the joints and musculatures of NY's public spaces?
In terms of architecture, I doubt that a space could be designed that would be immune to the same misuse as the unknowing person's handling of their anatomy. A community that is unaware of the mechanics of an architectural space might introduce rigidity and destructive, negative energy to the most sensitive of spaces. Or, does a reaction like this still leave the architecture to blame? For some reason, reading this article and contemplating it in architectural terms brought Yamasaki's failed Pruitt-Igoe projects to my head. This urban renewal development project was thought to embody the height of modern architecture back in 1951, supposedly having been "designed for interaction." Although a lot of other factors were at work (social, economic, & political), the buildings were deemed a failure due to crime and environmental degradation and were demolished in the 70s (hence the image above this post.) I guess what I'm wandering towards is the question: can successful architecture, when considered in the social realm, be led by such abstract notions as plasticity? And if so, how does the community become integrated into that energy?
Posted by Robert Croft at 04:10 AM | Comments (0)
Bill Viola: An Art-Scientist
Upon reading the statements made by Bill Viola, I must admit that his definition of interaction is absolutely amazing. His identification of several important materials and their correlation with each other certainly demonstrates a second-look at his definition of interaction. From his realization about time to his demonstration about video and sound, he elucidates all aspects of interaction. Although he called himself as an artist, I would prefer to call him an “art-scientist.” I don’t know if my engineering background has been affected by his theories or not, but all of his statements sounded like a thesis for a great discovery of invention. He seemed to remind me the most basic thing that everyone knows, but that keeps being forgotten. For example, everyone knows the importance of time, but did we really approach it as the basic material for a conceptual space. When I first thought of the theme of time, Einstein’s Relativity theory came into my mind. This scientist related the time and the space, and the great interaction it can create. Similarly, Viola exactly points out the time as the primary basis. However, even beyond this, he further identifies it as the “point of unification between art, science, and all the creative activities.” Moreover, he emphasizes the notion of space as “the sense of place is manifest as an apparent concern with landscape.” When I first read these statements, it just made me keep saying: “That’s absolutely right.”
Then, his point of view on the experience and on the viewer with his realization about different senses sounded very psychological. It was like I am listening by seeing something or vice versa. Between all of his wonderful statements, I like his saying that “duration is to consciousness as light is to the eye.” I think that this statement will be forever remembered.
Finally, “The Passions” by Bill Viola was absolutely fantastic. How he uses different emotions, and how he approached it was very unique. Especially, the “Catherine’s room” piece is nonetheless the best piece that knows how give an expression, an emotion, to a static room. Moreover, everything was in function to time!
http://www.getty.edu/art/exhibitions/viola/zoom_cath_room1.html
Posted by Tae Ho Yoon at 03:46 AM | Comments (0)
Stanislavski Reading
This reading puts a magnifying class to our body's motion and attempts to find the absolute truth of an expression. Combining both authenticity of form and content captures the essence of an expression in acting according to Stanislavski. This without a doubt holds true across all mediums and represents the same 'sacred spirit' that Viola referred too...
Posted by Karl Channell at 01:41 AM
Plasticity of Motion
After reading this, I began to think more about the ways exteriors reflect interiors, the ways function and purpose will effect form. The correlation in this case between acting and architecture is not obvious, but once I attempted to see the world through Stanislavski's eyes, I began to wonder why it isn't obvious, why it's so much easier to keep these ideas stuck to one genre without ever influencing the other (unless, for instance, you're an actor trying to grasp "space" through the ideas you've already learned). If I'm an actor, should I necessarily have a different view/idea/experience of space than would an architect, just as an architect would see a plot of land differently than would a gardener? If emotional memories are likely to have an effect upon the movement of one's body, one might find it obvious that the emotions/thoughts/memories of someone drawing up plans would effect the plans and effect the physical building itself. If by removing a person from his/her comfort zone one can impact that person's body signals, would the same awkwardness or compensatory audacity impact a building that seems out of place in its surroundings not by actually being as such but because we project our humanity onto our structures?
Posted by Demi Pietchell at 12:40 AM | Comments (0)
September 27, 2005
Stanislavsky: Plasticity of Motion
In his discussion of motion, Stanislavsky suggests a mutually beneficial relationship based on structural form/mechanics that are consistent with inner motivation. His approach does not suggest a stylized ideal, instead he suggests one that is rooted in the mechanics of the body. This method which encourages self/physical awareness, reminds me of the Alexander Technique. Alexander Technique focuses on de-habituating the body to unconscious, repetitive patterns of movement, thought and sensation. Stanislavsky and Alexander Technique encourage individuals to deeply explore the anatomical functioning of their body and retrain patterns of movement.
Within the context of this class----how do we apply this notion to architecture or spatial design? Physical extensions of our bodies protect and shepherd us. Associating this principle of inner/outer cohesion to such structures might allow for an economy of human action that would better serve the needs, materials and individuals using the space.
A yielding architecture, would adapt to seismic shifts, light changes (like the phot-sensitive apertures that cover the surface of l’Institut du Monde Arabe in Paris), and other conditions or uses. Within the adaptability these spaces must be strong and flexibile. A body that is open to dynamically adjusting in relation to the moment is generally strong and resilient—so too one can imagine an elastic and intelligent space that is unyielding in its strength.
A good place to start would be studying the use for a space and the movement patterns that will frequent it. For this week’s assignment, I chose to examine the sequential movements of a polar bear underwater. In this scenario water serves as a powerful model for a responsive and strong interior space. It seems that it would be appropriate to examine the structural properties of water as a beginning.
Posted by Kati London at 03:15 PM
Plasticity of Mind
The "Plasticity of Motion" of Stanislavski reminded me of the amazing organism of human body. As a standing erect species, human beings are considered to be highly evolved animal; however, we barely understand the mechanism of our bodies. The more interesting point is, as discussed through the reading, it is not only the external exposure but also the inner mindset that defines the movement. I would say soul dominates body as our intention can alter the body movement.
When the author described the mercury metaphor lecture, I got to compare it to the yoga lessons that I took a while ago. Yoga put much importance on mindset; therefore, it utilized music and scent to help the practices to concentrate onto their mind and soul. The trainer asked us to feel the movement of the muscle of the body as we moved a certain body part, and although it was hard to feel the flow, but at least it gave me the momentary feeling that I owned my body.
Energy is the source that keeps us alive, thus, the understanding of the mechanism of the energy in our body must be crucial in sustaining our vitality. In my opinion, in doing arts, not only to the art that utilizes body such as acting or dancing, but also to the physical arts including architecture, installations, and even fine art pieces reflect the organism of the human body. Plasticity of motion may be derived from the plasticity of mind.
Posted by Jane Oh at 02:23 PM | Comments (0)
structural acting
Stanislavski's most significant gift to acting was action, or intention. The idea that a character's behavior could be most simply expressed as a series of desires which an actor could then perform. Prior to Stanislavski's teachings, most acting was indeed more physical than psychological. (In the 19th century, one predominant 'technique' was a codification of gestures, each implying a different state of mind. Sort of an emotional sign language. I.e., I will tilt my head to the right and arch my hands above my shoulders to convey confusion. )
There are still varying schools of thought -- many actors prefer to work from the outside in, finding a physicality for a character and allowing that physicality to inform their choices -- and the audience's understanding of their character. This is not entirely incompatible with Stanislavski's teachings. As Torstov reacts to the different actors' habitual walks, it is clear that each conveys a different sense of the actor's history and character.
However, Torstov instructs: By reducing our habitual motions to the most simple, purest physicality, the actor can begin to fully realize the character's physicality without being hindered by their own cultural, personal biases.
If we extrapolate Plasticity of Motion to the design of structures and objects, two lessons become clear. One, that there can be a kernel of truth, an action or desire from which the structure must grow (and inversely, that a structure will ultimately convey that action or desire). And two, stripping away habitual forms and motions will allow that essential desire to be fully expressed.
Posted by schwa23 at 09:11 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
September 26, 2005
Fluid Motion
I thought Stanislavski did a good job in his piece of illustrating how one can effectively overdo it when trying to embody plasticity of motion. If simply told to "walk more fluidly", people will naturally walk in an unnatural way. I agree that the key element in achieving more pasticity in motion is maintaining the correct mindset. To this end, metaphors such as that of mercury seem to ber very helpful.
It is the spirit of this piece that in my assignment I documented a baseball pitcher's movements. When a pitcher throws the ball, enormous amounts of energy are transfered throughout his motion. The speed achieved by a baseball (up to 90mph and above) is largely due to energy that comes from the legs. The "leg kick" of a pitcher is often credited with the power behind their pitches (or lack thereof). What is interesting about the motion of a baseball pitcher is that the results of this motion are examinable in relatively precise ways. There are clinics all over the country that do just this every day (with the help of some high technology). The smoother a pitcher's motion, the more efficiently energy is transferred throughout the body. The benefits of this are two-fold. Firstly, a pitcher can achieve a higher velocity on their fastball. Additionally, this approach reduces the stress on the pitcher's body and can help stave off injury.
Posted by Andrew Maskin at 04:09 PM
September 25, 2005
Perspectives
See my documentation here
Posted by min at 11:31 PM | Comments (0)
Making a Space
For my perspective model I replicated the view from my stoop on 12th street in Brooklyn. I haven't spent much time on my stoop, i'm too busy running around, but people are out there all the time. Even as I write this I hear people on the stoop. It's a distinctly urban phenomenon that's new to me.
Some people live their lives from the stoop, in the same four block radius. The stoop and the view from it is their world. Personally, I think of it as a place you pass when you are coming home or going out into the world, not a place you stop.
For this assignment I thought I would slow down and stop on the stoop, take a look around. From the stoop I took photos all the way around. Since you are sitting you cannot see behind you and you cannot really turn your body, only your head. When you turn your head you are blocked off by the first floor apartment windows on both sides.
The model was implemented as an overlapping collage of two dimensional photographs. The cascade of fences, cars and building pass through the 270 degree arc. The street is blocked off my the buildings on the other side. You cannot see over them, the world from the stoop ends there. You can look up and see the possibility of some other place, but there is no actual manifestation, you are blocked off on all sides.
I'm excited to see what happens when we put a camera at stoop level. The photos look like a shtetl. Like they could be a set for an animation about ukraine before the war.
Posted by Bukhin, Mike at 03:15 PM
The artist, Bill Viola
Bill Viola has been one of my favorite artists since I was an undergrad at the Art Institute of Chicago. Studying interior architecture, I was very impressed by his usage of space for his video installations. I actually saw his exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago in the year 2000 and ended up breaking one of his pieces. It was a piece with a bronze tap in a room and a video projection on the wall. As you turn the tap, you hear the water dripping with surround sound in the space that you are in. There was a video piece running with the sound. I had turned the tap too far right and after I had used it, it was no longer in sync with the sound.
It’s always very interesting to read what artists have to say about their pieces and the whole process. Bill viola suggests that his medium, in this case, video, is only a tool in his process of investigation. I agree with him. Whatever the medium you may use, it is only a tool that helps you bring what you are trying to express in your art. The medium may be very low-tech, but if it works for the piece, the artist should stick with it and make the best out of it. This is especially true nowadays, with this new genre of art called “new media.”
He also states that he works with the “raw material”, (the sensory data, neural processing, memory, imagination etc) and that he aims at trying to “put it all back together” in his video installation. I personally do not know whether this is completely doable. Our individual bodies and minds react is such different ways that it is almost impossible to get the same reactions of the same place from different people.
I agree with his idea behind the “working” of an artist. He states, “It is the time of an unfinished thought, the time the painter must go through, the time behind the façade of all great discoveries.”
Posted by min at 03:12 PM | Comments (0)
September 23, 2005
Plasticity of Motion
I thought that some of Stanislavski's comments about the externalization of internal energy were interesting. By linking the motions of the body with both the mechanical process of movement and psychological condition of a character he offers an interesting insight to the nature of human movement. I liked some of his comments about the motivated movement, how each motion should have a purpose that comes from within. His analysis of the mechanics of walking is interesting as well. It is interesting to think of all the different methods of walking, and what is proper in order to create the impression of floating along while the body slightly bounces, like a wave. It is, perhaps, interesting to think of people moving as moving waves, with each head a crest at some point in time, in particular in a crowded city like the one we are in, where a crowd can turn into a sea of people. (What would happen if we got a large group of people painted them blue and had them walk through the street?)
Posted by Aaron Harmon at 08:54 PM
Bill Viola Reading
I really enjoyed this reading and totally appreciated getting the inside scoop on the way this artist thinks about his own works. I also think a lot of the points he raised can be applicable to other areas of work and life and general, such as his musings on phonetic language versus visual languages. This became most apparent to me upon reading the first few chapters of Marshall McLuhan's "Understanding Media" wherein he also explores the effects of visual media on a literary culture and the ways that they are negatively construed. The quote from Rumi really somes up McLuhan's entire thesis: media is an augmentation of our perception, and any forms of new media will affect the society's social structure, not through its content, but through the action of itself.
That being said, I do think Viola's interpretation of his particular medium's effect on the human condition is a bit lofty. He describes the image as "the key agent" acting between the hard world of reality and the soft world of the mind. Physiologically, this simply is not true. The senses of sound and smell, in particular, are much more intricately laced to a human's conceptual construct of the world around him than his sense of sight. Not everyone has a photographic memory, afterall, although we do often use sight as a crutch for interpretting things that we don't necessarily understand. But, knowing this, Viola does put an admirable amount of trust in his viewer when he says that his work really only exists in their minds. That's a statement I can agree with.
Posted by Roman, Christin at 01:04 PM
please view my blog for entry
Posted by alex at 01:12 AM
September 22, 2005
viola du signe
Reading viola's text reminded me of two books I read years before : 'Letters to a young would-be poet'(Rainer Maria Rilke) and 'Duchamp du signe' (Marcel Duchamp). For Duchamp, already, the piece of art was on the viewer side. His last (unfinished) work 'etant donnee' is a remarquable introduction to contemporary art as Viola produced.
For those interested, I recomend this great website:http://www.understandingduchamp.com/
Another aspect of Viola's text deal with the uncertainty. The notion of unexplored and unknown edge is pictured very gracefully in Rilke's short book. The fact that art has to deal with gut and intuition. If everything is clear, then everything is dead.
Picasso used to say a misunderstood sentence:
"I don't search, I find". This resonate with Viola's work in the way that finding is closer to the "fog of creation", a sort of uncontrolled demiurgic act.
Posted by Duc, Thomas at 09:46 PM
Bill Viola
Bill Viola's "Statements" (1989 & 1985) overlap nicely with Marshall McLuhan, who I am reading for 'communications lab'. In my first few weeks @ ITP, i've found that there is a heavy overlap in all my classes, a strong common undercurrent that is driving all we do and everything we are striving for.
Viola mediates and zooms in on the conceptual delineations we take for granted until they fall apart and show themselves for what they really are, arbitrary. In different words, mimicking McLuhan, he is proposing a "medium of sense" which he calls experience. The true beauty is not in manifestations or implementations of experience but in experience as experience. Just as McLuhan isn't interested in light when it is used to perform brain surgery Viola isn't interested in hearing or vision, but the unified raw material that we call sense.
It may not be too far fetched to say that ITP as ITP is the medium, the true vision of emerging technologies. Classes and floor collaborations are only useful in that they allow us to travel back up and see the unified, originating whole.
Posted by Bukhin, Mike at 09:33 PM
September 21, 2005
Choosing ways to see
Parts of Bill Viola's 1985 statement made me think of Rudolf Laban's work in Laban Movement Analysis, and in particular the concept of Space Effort, which seems very relevant to the week's theme of Point Of View. Laban, with the help of his students and collaborators, created a system to try and categorize the different ways in which humans move their physical bodies. The part of this system that examines the quality of a movement is called Effort, and within Effort is a subcategory that deals specifically with the quality of movement in regards to its relationship to Space. This subcategory has two contrasting elements of Effort: direct and indirect. Not only does Effort apply to movements of arms, hands and legs, but also to our eyes. It asks the question, how are we choosing to see? With direct spatial effort or indirect spatial effort? It is a physical choice, not just a matter of mental interpretation.
In our society, and perhaps in particular in a place of compressed learning like ITP, our common tendency is to focus hard, to actively investigate, to seek out answers, or probe for specifics. This is direct, and it is almost a one way street. The main force of our interaction is outward. Indirect spatial effort, however, is very different. It is adjusting your point of view to encompass the bigger picture. Not just conceptually, but physically allowing your gaze to take in everything that you can see, neither focussing on any one thing more than the other, nor allowing your gaze to blur or "space out". This is a more receptive mode. This is less about trying to actively shape your experience of what is around you with your mind's attempts to build on what you already know, and more about allowing your experience to be shaped by the space of a larger reality.
"So field perception is the awareness for sensing of an entire space at once. It is based on a passive, receptive position..." - Bill Viola
In my experience a way into this, that helps bypass the mind, is a physical choice.
On a different note, I was interested to read Viola describe video work as time-based art. I guess I had a conception in my mind of true time-based art being work that is ephemeral in its material nature. It may be durational, or it may not, but most importantly it changes over time and eventually dies. Video, although it needs some time to watch it (especially in the case of artists such as James Benning), has been taken out of time because it has been recorded. It can be watched over and over again; it is never live, and that recording will never evolve as the minutes, days or years pass by. In relation to this, video art rarely touches me deeply, because it can only offer a mediated experience, as opposed to the work of someone like James Turrell, which offers us a live relationship to our peculiar human concepts of 'space' and of 'time', and no moment of that experience can ever be repeated.
Posted by Ed Purver's ITP Blog at 11:45 PM | Comments (0)
An Act of Faith
The mind of the viewer is where art work come to finalize, since it is a reflexive, abstract and unlimited number of ideas, wich are not allowed to be completed, unless the perception, and most important, information a viewer can achieve.
The idea about watching a video, and being able to see one frame at a time, can be transfer to the space in its whole dimention. This is, an object, can only be appreciate or seen by a viewer by only one of its side, then the viewer must take some steps to embrace another face.
A viewer it' s only able to construct the totality of an object, wich does not exist in any other place but inside his mind. So, the perception of an object (whatever its size is) is really an experience in wich we are able to smell, hear, touch and even taste the object in order to comprehend its nature.
This is what I call an act of faith.
Standing in front of a grave, a big mass of stone basically. Big shaped stone, grey and cold, doesn' t mean anything on itself. It is then when the viewer, among its own perception, mixture of senses that can' t be put away from information, gives this grave a sense, trough the act of faith. Believeing on this shape, binging life to deathness.
Standing in front of a piece of art, necessarily, takes ourselves to the biggest act of plundering.
Posted by Carolina Pino at 05:38 PM
Reading Assignment 2, Bill Viola
I found it reassuring to read Bill Viola’s 1989 statement, especially the part in which he talks about the state of confusion and ‘unclarity,’ or the unfinished thought, that precedes creative breakthroughs. I also enjoyed his discussion of time-based art as experiential and non-objective.
I like the way he approaches the world by not separating inner and outer and by sensing an entire space at once. The sense of joining as opposed to dissecting or compartmentalizing experience is something that is so important. I think work which addresses a whole experience, welcomes a viewer or user to personally experience the piece. While, people do need to shut down certain aspects of their awareness in order to navigate the consistent experiential bombardment of everyday life---cell phones, subways underfoot, planes overhead and traffic in the street, as sense receptors we have the capacity to simultaneously take in a great deal of information.
I especially enjoyed the Migration piece in relation to our two most recent assignments. It is such a quiet and powerful statement, which simply and radically alters the space and the perception of the viewer.
Posted by Kati London at 08:16 AM
September 20, 2005
Bill Viola: impressions
thoughts on Bill Viola's work and words.
1) From Statement 1989: "... one must also embrace the first stages of an insight as being just as important as the insight itself." This reminds me of an important lesson for artists. the idea that the feelings associated with an idea, especially an idea worth pursuing, are sometimes the same feelings that might dissuade one from actually pursuing the idea. The confusion or uncertainty Viola talks about are all too common when embarking on the creative process -- how will my work live up to my initial idea? What if I fail in expressing it? And what am I actually trying to express, anyway?
2) the description of Hatsu Yume was reminiscent of my experience at the Noguchi museum; the idea that these rocks are moving in a different time than the world around them, time being relative to the observer, and different concepts of time being intertwined and rubbing against each other.
3)
4) In Statements 1985, Viola talks about his revelation that sound is a physical force, and that it is inseparable from our other senses. When the sound designers for a short film I produced left the project early and with unfinished sound, I discovered how much we rely on these invisible cues to place ourselves in a setting. Watching the film with overdubbed audio that hadn't been mastered left you feeling uneasy, untrusting of the environment. When the environment's natural ambience (though perhaps artificially) was recreated, the film felt more substantial, and more real.
Posted by schwa23 at 11:47 PM | Comments (0)
Bill Viola (Statements 1985; Statement 1989)
The "sense of place" is a concept that permeates the work of Bill Viola. He sees this "place" as the location where an idea can come to life. This "sense of place" can also be seen as the subject of Viola's work, which includes landscapes, both physical ("hard") and mental ("soft.") He does not see any distinction, however, between the two. Rather, Viola emphasizes their ability to work together. There is a tension, transition, exchange and resonance between these physical and mental landscapes that give energy and definition to our reality. (Statements 1985)
Viola goes on to describe the windows of perception, and how they occur all at once. We are, however, only tuned into a certain frequency. Thought is defined as perception over time. Perhaps, our perception can change to allow us to partake in multiple frequencies over a period of time.
There is reference back to this idea of a window of perception in Viola's "Statement 1989." In this case, it is called the "separate reality." Viola claims it is present within us all but that the artist is the one who brings it to life, though his or her work that is left here on earth.
So many artists define themselves by their medium: painter, printmaker, photographer, dancer and musician. Bill Viola plainly states that he does not use the label "video artist;" rather he prefers simply, "artist." He explains that video is only a device he uses to express his art because it is the most relevant to contemporary life. According to this theory, people can avoid the limitations of the medium by defining themselves as artists and then expressing their ideas using the most appropriate methods.
Posted by Kate Bauer at 10:58 PM | Comments (0)
Bill Viola
I'm curious what Viola feels about people seeing his works after reading about them versus seeing them fresh and with a 'beginner's mind'. When I read his description of his own personal perspective for viewing Hatsu Yume, where he saw it as the rock's rate of change, I started to wonder if my eventual viewing of the piece would be tainted by knowing what his perspective had been. I would probably immediately start focussing on the rock's rate of change, and consequently probably wouldn't experience the full process of thought, or the first confusing stages of insight, or the cultivation of the ability to see 'through' objects.
Posted by Fiona Carswell at 10:24 PM
Bill Viola: Statements 1985 & 1989
Bill Viola, The Passing, 1991
Read in conjunction, these two Bill Viola texts make an interesting statement about the relationship between time and space. In his 1989 "Statement," Viola states that time is the materia prima of a video artist, serving the same essential, baseline function that light serves for a painter or photographer. He posits that because the viewer only experiences each frame momentarily before it disappears (i.e., because the work is dynamic), a complete video work ultimately exists only the mind of the viewer. The main thrust of the 1985 "Statements" is that space is essential to Viola's work, and that it is inextricably caught up with the dynamic and destructive force of time. What Viola seems to be suggesting is that the experience of three-dimensional space differs from that of a two-dimensional art object in that the latter is inherently static while that former is inherently dynamic. In other words, the artistic essence or aura of a painting inheres in the painting itself, but the essence of a physical space -- at least, a space into which the viewer is invited -- lies in the viewer's memory of that space. This distinction, it would seem, is a function of the difference between experiencing a work from within the work itself, rather than viewing it from a distance.
Posted by Sai Sriskandarajah at 10:11 PM
Perception and Necessity
I would like to go back to the end of Bill Viola's 1985 statement. There he quotes Rumi, "New organs of perception come into being as a result of necessity. Therefore, increase your necessity so that you may increase your perception." I think that this idea kind of travels through Viola's two statements. Both statements seem to have a theme of the need to have the viewer reflect on whatever it is they are viewing. In the 1989 statement, Viola talks about the materiality of time particular to cinematic and video arts. He notes that "time is to consciousness as light is to the eye" and goes on at length about embrace the "first stages of insight" the time of proto-creation. By reflecting on the total act of creation itself, and being open to the unknown frees up the mind to reflect on the possible and thereby expand ones own elements of perception. Doubly, the video installation itself becomes a mode of reflection. Understanding itself can only come from a video piece through understanding of the precious frames. Otherwise it is like viola's butterfly under glass metaphor, something only to be looked upon.
In his 1985 statement he continues with his theme of reflection, but carries it into the realm of the landscape. Here he writes about difference of scale, from a small kitchen to the vast Sahara desert which come together by causing the viewer to reflect on either a microscopic space or a vast space. He also explores the concept of temporal scale by videotaping a rock in slow motion. I think that rocks are fascinating objects; in particular extremely large ones that seem to have set in one place long before you came upon it and know will sit there long after you have passed it by. Viola's comparison of a rocks life cycle and flies also helped to reinforce his exploration of seismic scale on a temporal level and to continue his exploration of reflection on time as a primary material of video.
He concludes his article noting he is "disturbed by the over-emphasis of high tech gadgets." This comment is interesting coming from a video artist, but makes sense when you think about his concern with reflection and slowing down processes. It seems that high technology allows us to do many otherwise mundane tasks an a sort of auto pilot. The tradeoff then is a loss of intimacy with the nature of that act. For example, Teflon allows us to cook with out ever having to cure a pan and thereby involve ourselves with the creation of the implements of cooking. Ultimately, technology causes a loss of necessity, and with that loss of necessity the question is, do we lose some of our perception?
Posted by Aaron Harmon at 10:43 AM
September 19, 2005
Bill Viola's Hatsu Yume
I was interested in what Bill Viola had to say about his piece Hatsu Yume, particularly in light of his other thoughts about the use of time in his pieces. Although he says that in this piece he focuses on the rock that remains unchanged, I think the changing pace of the people walking around it would draw most of the attention of the viewer. He comments that the key element of his art is the experience he creates for the viewer, but in his analysis of this piece he seems to deviate from this. He focuses on his intent and original idea, without regard for the fact that his experiments with frame rates will naturallly distract and absorb the viewer. The notion that the rock is changing at all (just more slowly) would probably not impress itself upon most viewers.
I do, however have a good deal of respect for his intent in this piece, as well as his thoughts ont he relationship between space and sound.
Posted by Andrew Maskin at 11:45 PM
Bill Viola
I went to Bobst on Saturday to watch some more of Bill Viola's video works. The only media of his that they had there were the laserdisc Selected Works and the individual videos of the works included on Selected Works. A professor of mine had shown me these before in class a couple years ago, but I decided to watch them again all the same, and I am very pleased that I did.
I captured some stills with my camera that you can see on this Flickr set if you have the time. Above this entry I've posted a detail from his work Reflecting Pool that I am soooo enamoured with. This blown out image of a person suspended in midair communicates everything that Viola writes about in the photocopy that Jean-Marc gave us last week. He reveals his understanding of the relationship between the landscape and the "solitary individual" so brilliantly through this still image of a person gradually fading into the foliage behind him. He freezes a moment in fleeting human motion while allowing the subtle rhythms of the water below to carry forward in time. After reading Viola's notes on Hatsu Yume and how any change in the rock he was filming exceeds the sampling rate of video, I realized something that I hadn't thought about the first time I watched Reflecting Pool. It's not merely about the cycle of human life from birth to death; it expands further into relations of scale between human and nature.
Posted by Robert Croft at 09:00 PM | Comments (0)
Bill Viola, an Artist
"I am disturbed by the over-emphasis on technology." This is a quote from Bill Viola’s "Statement 1985," and this is exactly what worries me sometimes. At ITP, everyone is so eager to learn and adopt new technologies, thus, I get fascinated too much by the technology itself. Not that I do not admire the achievements of the works that have been done in the program, but I just do not want to make mistakes by putting the cart before the horse. Technology comes after the idea, not vice versa. We look for technology that can realize our imagination and dreams not pursue dreams that fit into the available technology. Viola seemed to have the same belief in technology.
"...there is always just one "right place" where an idea can come to life..." Another notion from his notes showed how much efforts he might have put in his works to find this "one right place." It made me to think of how much efforts I have been putting in my works, and somehow I feel shameful. However, although I admire his efforts to find the right place, I am not sure if I can totally agree with his idea. In my opinion, some random pick of the places can result unexpected achievements. Perhaps, the random pick happened to be the right place for being so lucky.
The reading was very meaningful for me in terms of reminding me of the very reasons why I came to ITP. I came here to develop my mindset not to learn technique. Throughout the reading, I realized that I may have been blinded with the whole new experiences with technology. Viola is an artist not a technician nor a video artist, and so am I hoping to be.
Posted by Jane Oh at 01:29 PM | Comments (0)
Reactions to Viola
This writing attempts to reveal detail about the essence of art and what truely makes this world around us real. When struggling with and attempting to solve a creative idea it is essential to find an answer to this problem. To find an iteration of your concept that 'works'. I enjoyed his description about grappling with this issue or "great ball of doubt". Something artistic and abstract is often answered differently by each individual; but what is it that solves this calculation of our imagination? The more I pay attention to detail, and escape the rational and physical world, the more I am able to access this ability to see "through objects". For this is essential for succeeding in any creative endeavor. Some techniques I've developed to help open my mind to this conceptual understanding are: 1) Writing down dreams, since they directly inject these emotions at an extremely real and sacred' level, and 2) Using my down-time, i.e. standing in the subway, sitting on a bench and walking around, to try and ponder these ideas.... this cloud of unknowing can only be resolved by rolling the idea around in your mind, and re-sculpting it through infinite imaginative calculations. Often conceptual clarity can come about through inspiration as well as divine analysis of the ordinary.
Overall, Bill Viola's writings told me that it's ok to embrace the unknown and learn to embrace and indulge in it. Analyze a medium, in this case video, and play it to its strengths. The use of time really is of essence in video and architectural creations alike. Put typical perceptions on their head and you may find something sacred.
Posted by Karl Channell at 12:13 AM
September 16, 2005
Bill Viola's obsession with gaps
After reading Bill Viola's statements, I noticed a common thread linking them: Viola's obsession with the gaps that exist between the perceived and the actual. He notes that he makes no distinction between these elements which is ironic considering it is he who brings these distinctions to our attention in his writings. (He does the same in his description of "unified senses" in "field perception.") Viola attempts, through his work, to draw attention to the difference between the way we perceive space and time and the way space and time "really" are. He demonstrates these gaps by forcing the viewer into a ceratin point of view, acknowledging that it is the point of view of "other," and showing us how that point of view is different from the way we would ordinarily perceive what he shows, allowing us to knowingly receive the information in ways that we ordinarily wouldn't, leading to his assertions that "perception over time equals thought," as well as the existence of what he refers to as "simultaneous interwoven perception."
Posted by Demi Pietchell at 05:27 PM | Comments (0)
Noguchi
I didn't travel "the way Noguchi did" to get to his museum in Queens (I was on a time crunch and the N can get you there in about 20 minutes) but I did take in some surroundings along the way. I know you miss so much when you travel underground, but I also enjoy the idea of becoming familiar with different subway stations- the way they look, which ones still have the old tile signs. Not to mention the view you get when the train goes above ground in Queens and the ten block walk from the subway to the museum, alive with shops and restaurants up and down Broadway. Fortunately, once I arrived at the museum, I was met with a sense of ease, suddenly forgetting about my time constraints and other worries of the day.
There is something very Zen about Noguchi's work that, to me, is conveyed most clearly in his granite sculptures. The sheer weight of them gives one a sense of strength and stability from just looking at them. They are so content to remain exactly where they are, in fact, that they exist wherever they are put, (outside in the garden, exposed to the elements, in a room lit with natural light and open windows), stoically, magestically and without complaint. I found myself especially drawn to those pieces whose position required a sense of balance, either with one piece resting atop the other or a sculpture whose contact with the floor was not a predictable broad, flat surface. Looking at these pieces reminded me of my Yoga practice. When lying on the floor, either on one's side in the fetal position or on one's back, it is important to reflect on the part's of the body that make contact with the floor as these are the points that keep you grounded. You are then taught to take that reflection with you as you practice the more precarious balancing poses, understanding that wether you have one foot on the ground or two, you are still being fully supported by the floor.
Taking a rest between rooms to visit the gift shop, I saw the video of the making of the Akari light sculptures. The method was fascinating, and the speed and skill with which the lamp was constructed told of a centuries-old tradition. What really got me thinking, though, was the term "light sculpture." It made me wonder how Noguchi came to make these pieces. I like to think that the idea of having a sculpturelit from within, rather than spotlit, excited him. That's what excited me about it anyway.
I have to say that there was one piece that I wasn't crazy about: "Elbow". I thought this sculpture lacked that sense of stability that I loved in the other works.The marble piece was supported by its metal counterpart, but in such a way that it seemed almost as though the artist was attempting to accentuate the lack of support, the separation and space between the marble and the aluminum. Here, there were two supporting pieces to contend with (two aluminum poles connecting the marble to an L-shaped base). I found myself wondering, "if one of these poles were removed would the marble still stand?" rather than enjoying the knowledge that are imparted by other pieces like "Green Essence".
Posted by Roman, Christin at 05:16 PM
Noguchi m.
please check my blog for entry.
Posted by alex at 09:23 AM
September 15, 2005
A Day With Noguchi and Meeting New Friends
After only arriving to the United States and NYC only 2 days prior to my museum trip, this particular sunny Sunday afternoon will always be something I will remember.
I was definitely not ready to venture to Queens on my own, so I did what Jean-Marc suggested, and emailed my classmates. Thank god for the internet! Anyways shortly after clicking the send button I got a reply from Sandra. You are such a lifesaver!
So yeah I ended up going to the Noghuci Museum with 3 other people, Sandra, Gilad, and Alex. Whom I found truly interesting and am grateful to have met. As I know if not for ITP I would never have had the pleasure of interacting with.
Upon entering the museum, the first thing I noticed were how the floors, celings, walls and the artwork all seemed to just blend together. I found it odd, but interesting that Noguchi didn't feel it was neccessary to have his artwork be more of a contrast to it's surroundings, to have it stand out more.
I also, like so many others noticed the amount of natural sunlight that was allowed into the area. That combined with the fact that it was not a fully enclosed area did exhibit a nice ambiguity between the outside and inside, art and achitecture.
The garden outside reminded me of the gardens in Japan, or what at least I imagine them to be. The area was so well lit with natural sunlight and the sculputures especially the fountain (there's always just something so soothing in flowing water) made the garden such a serene and peaceful place to be walking around. One could definitely lose track of time there.
The other area I enjoyed was Area 9. There was such a difference between the area on the bottom floors and the top floors. Unlike the area below the enclosed areas weren't as cold or rough, opting for more light to be allowed in with glass celings and wooden floorboards instead of plain grey concrete. I guess the atmosphere on the top floor helped me enjoy the artwork more than it did on the bottom floors.
Posted by Fazreen Kuhiri at 01:01 PM
Noguchi Museum
The Noguchi Museum's design mimics the design of the sculpture within. I believe that when Noguchi saw a piece of stone, he wanted to modify it, but he also wanted to leave its original shape somewhat intact in order to make you see that it was he who was able to affect the shape, that it was his time and effort that changed nature. If you think of brick as the "nature" of the city, you'll notice that the building could easily go unnoticed; it is no different from its surroundings and maintains the image of being a mere part of the whole. But when you go inside, the building is more like the sections of the stone sculptures that Noguchi mainpulated; the inside of the building feels more like an oasis than a part of the city. The interior of the building was Noguchi's way of shaping the city to do what he wanted it to do, but he has left the exterior of the building to look the way the city's "nature" intended it to look.
This reminds me of the doubloon from Goonies. :)
Posted by Demi Pietchell at 10:05 AM | Comments (0)
September 14, 2005
A vist with Noguchi
I exited the Broadway stop in Queens and walked towards Manhattan in the afternoon heat. This wasn’t Noguchi’s Broadway. This was some other Broadway, Broadway now. Noguchi didn’t have two for-a-dollar avocados, and a juice bar; I’m sure of it. Why would anyone put a museum here? I wouldn’t. Shouldn’t someone like Noguchi have a museum in a more highly trafficked area like Manhattan?
I got lost. It figures. There’s low-income housing everywhere and some thugs giving me funny looks.
Finally. Something recognizable. It felt like a beacon. Noguchi’s museum is an oasis. After hauling through the city, the serene tranquility makes you stop, and reconsider: Why have I never looked at a rock like this before? It’s obvious: You’re not Noguchi.
I don’t know Noguchi, so I won’t pretend. To analyze and deconstruct, would only be false representation on my part. I can though, like any other like mined visitor provide observation, and context to how I interoperate, and, experience the work.
I walked thru the pseudo industrial space and examined the stone sculpture. The light from the void where the ceiling nearly misses the wall, poured in creating shadows with the birch trees growing in the corner. Contradiction, juxtaposition, and, balance are obvious themes of Noguchi’s stonework. These themes are evident in the way he leaves portions of rock uncut, while other areas are deliberately carved and chiseled. His identity played a hand in this. His dual sense of identity, Japanese/American, is evident in the stone and in the garden. The garden is reminiscent of a Japanese rock garden, while having striking undertones of industry and modernization. This duality is even evident in the location (the outside city and this inside oasis).
While the museum is full of sculpture, I never felt overwhelmed by the work. I would expect nothing less than room after room, each full of sculpture, from Noguchi. I do however wish there were more examples of his furniture. In my opinion, there easily could have been a room dedicated to his commercial work.
At the museum I also learned that this was Noguchi’s studio and that he was the curator. This I found particularly intriguing. After learning this, the visit felt much more personal, and, the location made much more sense.
Posted by DelGaudio, Michael at 09:36 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Noguchi Museum
This visit was a unique experience, especially in that you could examine nearly all of the pieces up close with no barriers or glass encasements to separate you from the work. The overall space and environment was also beautifully designed, combining nature with man-made structures. Although it's obvious all the pieces are purposefully designed, there still exists a raw element to his works.
I read a quote in one of the museum guides regarding his works with stone: "...irregular forms and chiseled surfaces of the stone served as a metaphor for one's experience in the world." This statement links his sculptures with the human condition, connecting us with his experiences and vision of art.
I was only familiar with his furniture before visiting here, so it was fascinating to see the other genres of his life's work.
Posted by Angela Pablo at 03:59 AM
True Role of the Sculptor
First off, I must say that I've enjoyed reading everyone's blogs on their Noguchi experience, but you all should really allow comments on your posts so that I, and your other fellow students, can talk back at you and tell you how brilliant you are. That being said...
I wasn't expecting to really appreciate the Noguchi museum experience before I went. I'm not sure why exactly. I think it was a combination of 1) telling myself that I'm usually more intrigued by more recent sculpture & 2) being too ADD to enjoy a whole museum of one artist's work. So, I had psyched myself up more about visiting the Socrates Scuplture Park than the Noguchi museum.
Much to my surprise, however, I was moved by the works in the Noguchi Museum much more than those at Socrates. A quote from Noguchi I read on one of the laminated floor plans in the museum was perhaps a major reason for my preference. It read, "the battle with stone, to make it do what it was not meant to do, might be the true role of the sculptor." Now that really grabbed me. Compare this attitude with a work I saw at Socrates by David Shapiro called "Transform Abandoned Bikes into Art." In "TABiA," Shapiro simply transplanted some of all those dismembered bikes that you see chained to signposts around Manhattan to this park in Queens and chained them to a cluster of posts that he stuck in the ground there. Did Shapiro "battle" with these bicycles to make them do anything that they weren't meant to do? My answer would be no. Does that deprive him of the label "Artist"? Probably not, (especially in this day and age!), but I, personally, plan on revoking his "Sculptor" card.
In contrast to many contemporary sculptors who find inspiration in material at HOME DEPOT (I include myself in this indictment, by the way), Noguchi's commitment to stone sculpture was incredible to follow throughout the museum. I appreciated the singular stone sculptures for their monumentality, multiple planes, crevices and textures, but I preferred the works that Noguchi made while in Italy in which he striates polished marble and holds them together with something called a "post-tension" system. (Does anyone know if Noguchi was the first to use this sculptural process?) When I saw these, they immediately reminded me of some churches I've seen in Tuscany, and I was entertained when I read on the museum's materials that these marble sculptures are similar to Tuscan church motifs that Noguchi had to be seeing a lot of while he was working there. Noguchi, however, it said, denies that his sculptures were influenced by those patterns. (I think he's either lying or in denial, but maybe I'm too cynical.)
Noguchi definitely covered a lot of territory in his career. Some of his works I adored, while others seemed like "public art" that belonged in the courtyard of a bank skyscraper. I think he was influenced greatly by Brancusi and Giacometti, but I liked it more when he veered more on the Giacometti side of the equation.
The most important tidbit of information I gleaned from the Noguchi experience came from the video they were showing about his life. Noguchi was talking about making models for his pieces, and he was explaining why he likes to keep the models loose because, he says, "anything precise restricts you." So, in his view, I guess, a well-crafted model prevents any new crucial elements from emerging in the final work. There you go, a solid explanation to any professor who criticizes your model for being too sloppy. "But, Jean-Marc, I have to keep my options open for the final work..." Oh wait, Jean-Marc, are you reading this??
Posted by Robert Croft at 01:18 AM | Comments (0)
September 13, 2005
Noguchi Visit
9.10.05
This being my second visit to the museum I found myself more focused on the architecture and design of the building than on Noguchi’s sculptures. The exposed corner(s?) of the first exhibit room blended the industrial building materials to the outside with a small corner planting that was fully exposed to the sky, also foreshadowing the enclosed sculpture garden. This shed light on several sculptures, shifting depending upon the time of day and allowing for rain to enter the interior space. On one hand, the building materials were appropriate in relation to Noguchi’s material combinations, on the other hand, perhaps this consistency detracted from the strength of the sculptures in the space. Within the more interior galleries spotlights were combined with skylights to draw attention to parts of sculptures or in some cases directed their shadows onto walls and floors. The garden on the first floor seemed integrated with the rest of the gallery but I found it hard to linger in the space---it felt strange having walked through that industrial neighborhood to be in such a closed off ‘private’ area. I was hoping to see more theatrical set designs.
Posted by Kati London at 10:49 PM | Comments (0)
between space and emptiness
late afternoon
following a shaft of space
between skyscrapers
Posted by Duc, Thomas at 09:52 PM | Comments (0)
Peaceful Mind
After a long detour to the museum under the sizzling sun, the museum seemed so shining at my first glance. However, when I walked inside, it was even shinier.
Although his art works were really amazing, the building itself appeared even more impressive. Indeed, it was very moderate and natural, yet unique enough to show his world. Every place was full of lights, mostly with the projection of sunlight coming from outside. Windows were located to soften and spread the light, thus creating a calm and peaceful atmosphere. Moreover, when I got to the inner room on the second floor, its amazingly bright and warm surrounding just joyfully shocked me. The layout of pieces with respect to the windows was marvelous, and it couldn’t have been better to perfectly demonstrate each piece. Each piece just shined by itself, and it did not require any other medium than sunlight to highlight its existence.
Furthermore, with a slight reminder of my spatial design assignment, it made to examine the light effects in this huge box, the museum. Indeed, this museum was one of the most impressive buildings I have ever seen that have utilized the lights so efficiently. On one hand, another building that came to my mind was Casa Batilo in Barcelona, which was designed by Gaudi. In this building, a corridor with arch ceiling and the sunlight coming in from the tilted windows created grave yet delightful atmosphere alongside the corridor, and the most of all, I really liked the idea of using the sunlight instead of light bulbs. Similarly, in the Noguchi Museum, the sunlight was used to give more comforts and stability to the inner.
Besides from being amazingly impressed by the building itself, his crafts felt very humane to me. His technique of mixing the original surface of a stone and the altered part added the natural look to the pieces. Moreover, the forms appeared very organic and not artificial, although I had some difficulties in reading their meanings. However, it certainly showed his nature-loving human-caring style which would have probably been affected by his Asian background. Particularly, I really respect his idea of embracing the nature into his work in early time.
This experience of visiting such wonderful place was really inspiring, and I will definitely remember the deep emotion that I felt from the bright room on the second floor.
Posted by Jane Oh at 12:16 PM
Sunny Day at Noguchi Museum
Knowing the fact that the actual museum was designed and created by Isamu Noguchi, a seriously deepened expectation was nonetheless present before my scheduled experience to it. Indeed, I had skimmed through the floor map of this museum, and its triangular shape with the presence of a garden somehow appeared unusual, and kept me to imagine how it would look like. However, upon passing the sculptures in the first floor towards the garden, my imagination got totally enlightened with the theme of lights. It was not only the well-lighted pieces became attractive. Rather even all the pieces that seemed so gloomy became vivid and attractive. At this observation, I remarked that some sculptures actually appeared to further deliver their mass, form, and volume that their creator intended. If the materials were little sandy, the intended light color was more yellowish like more bright white-ish color was attached to the metal material. Whether it was intended or not or whether I was there at a very normal shiny day, the notion of different lights created by the layout of the building certainly created an interaction between the light and the objects it is supposed to light up.
Then, when it comes to the second floor, I just wished that was my room. It was that much comfort and softness the light, the sunshine from the ceiling window, created in me. Just being present in that area really made me smile, and it obviously led me to carefully examine the pieces much longer than the ones on the first floor. If someone asks me to describe them, my answer would be “antique future.” It may sound very non-sense, but the presence of very antique-looking pieces made in wood, like furniture, next to the picture of his large-scaled architectural pieces, like the Expo 70 fountain and the fountain at Detroit Civic Center, certainly gave me that kind of impression. Or, did I get this feeling from the fact Isamu Noguchi was someone who had embraced two very different cultures, West and East. It was like the East’s aesthetic theme combined with the innovation and scale of the West. Definitively, I could felt the cultural aspects of his vision, his vision of the world. In this sense, I feel that his approach to all these different cultural aspects seemed very humanistic and natural.
Finally, this building itself is an amazing art piece and a perfect example of spatial design. The building’s inner design along with the layout of window to control the incoming sunshine as the lighting source was marvelous. The place seemed to be totally rejuvenated with the notion of light such as its interactivity with certain materials and even with itself depending on its position. With a limited knowledge on sculptures, I really can’t explain whether they are great or not besides my own understanding of it; however, I felt serenity and tranquility from them.
I hope the museum is closed on a rainy day or at night.
Posted by Tae Ho Yoon at 09:27 AM | Comments (0)
Tranquility in Queens
I was fascinated by the tranquility and the 'isle-like' feeling I got when upon visiting the museum. It was as if I entered another world. I couldn't help noticing how desolate and empty the surroundings of the museum were. But the structure itself, perfectly triangular, almost cut the space around it, and created a little oasis in the middle of the nothingness.
It seems to me that Noguci takes nature and plays. He himself said that the rocks are more connected to this Earth than we humans are. Noguci takes different materials, and gives them patterns and flow which makes them look almost flexible. One sculpture particularly left an impact on me. I will post a picture of this sculpture, which seemed completely different from every angle that I looked.
I kept seeing so much in his work, mainly faces and bodies. I wonder what others see. Or what Noguci himself sees, if at all. I like to think that the shadows are part of the statue. They add so much strength to the pieces. Finally, I thought that too many styles were portrayed in that little space. A bit overpowering. But I guess that's what this guy is all about.
Posted by Gilad Lotan at 02:39 AM
September 12, 2005
modern stone gods.
I began to see Noguchi's stone sculputres as though they were alive, like Gods trapped in their earthly shapes. Noguchi was kind enough to find these ancient creatures and release them from the slabs they had been encased in. They exist in a kind of slow motion, while we onlookers come and mill about them. Maybe they are a little bit annoyed by us spectators; we are like gnats to them, coming within inches, examining each nook, curve, texture (I wonder if some people were smelling them?). Even at our contemplative speeds as we investigate, we are like lightning compared to their eternal slowness. If we watched them for a hundred years we might discover that they had slowly changed positions, the expressions on their faces altering ever so slightly to reveal their bemusement at our business, wondering when we will hurry up and slow down.
Posted by schwa23 at 11:19 PM
Noguchi
In many of Noguchi's sculptures, the empty air inside of them seems almost more important the physical sculptures themselves. This empty space adds a feeling of weightlessness to each sculpture. Much of Noguch's work seems to work with the concept of physical weight. In some sculptures, he will place objects that are normally heavy, such as large pieces of stone, on top of small support structures, such as thin metal poles or a wooden bench.
Noguci also plays with this empty space and seems to ask with many of his pieces what is inside, and what is outside? One piece that illustrates this example is one that is a pyramid inside of another pyramid. The museum itself reflects this idea with a garden "inside" of the museum, but also exposed to natural elements. Another section of the museum again asks us what is inside? This room has concrete walls, floors, and a ceiling but a segment of open air between the walls and the ceiling. This exposes the room to some of the elements, but not all.
Another important aspect to Noguchi's work and his museum as a place is distance. Some of his sculptures are flat stone with a single or multiple bulges on them. Interestingly, these bulges never touch one another. By doing this, Noguchi is able to emphasize the distance around the bulge. Physical distance is also important in the layout of the museum. Each piece has distance between the next, or between each of its parts. This distance seems to help create much of the empty space I mentioned before.
Posted by Aaron Harmon at 07:51 PM
Noguchi
Whenever I see stone sculptures I want to touch them, so it was a little frustrating to me to just look at Noguchi's work, especially since his work has such an emphasis on the touchable-qualities of texture and roundness. I liked the metal sculptures better because their sharp, dark shadows were more visually interesting.
But my favorite were his designs for urban areas, such as the playscapes and the Detroit plaza, and his ideas for playground slides. They seemed to be the right medium (?) for displaying his curved and undulating forms, tunnels, holes, etc, because they are in a form that can be explored.
I felt the layout of the museum was a little haphazard and confusing.
Posted by Fiona Carswell at 06:15 PM
Wonderful work...
I took your advise and took the Roosevelt Tram over to the Island and biked around until I reached the bridge to Queens. I arrived at the museum a short while later, locked up my bike and walked into a very small nondescript entrance.
On the other side of the door I was blown away by the transformation of the space to a cool, open, dark space with large stone sculptures and an almost meditative environment.
We have one of Noguchi's coffee tables in our living room and I was acquainted with some of his lights constructed with paper, but I didn't have any idea he was such an incredible artist in so many mediums. I really enjoyed the simplicity of his work. While I was flipping through a large hardcover book in the museum store I was intrigued to discover that Noguchi had a connection to Brancusi.
There were many similarities in their work, but I would say that in Brancusi's "bird in flight" you have an elongated shape that reaches up. In Noguchi's work the pieces seem more grounded and "centered". The other thing that I really admired about Noguchi was the he eschewed labels of any kind, he was artist, designer etc. but really wanted to be defined by his work.
Posted by David Bamford at 04:27 PM
Noguchi Museum Reflections
The words that instantly come to mind in trying to explain my visit to the Isamu Noguchi museum would be tranquility, harmony, natural, and peaceful. After a 20-minute hike from the F train that gave me a newfound appreciation of Queens’s industrial section, I found an oasis which showcased natural form sculptures and art pieces in peaceful harmony with their surrounding environment.
Noguchi’s sculptures and art pieces with such names as Waterfall, Magic Mountain, Sky Mirror and Another Land truly showcase that the relationship that can exist between natural art forms and however they may be manipulated yet still remain so organic and natural.
The lasting impression from my trip to the Noguchi Museum was a newfound respect for the artist and a deeper understanding of the peaceful co-existence that can exist between natural art forms and their surrounding environment.
Posted by Yonatan Kelib at 12:56 PM
Noguchi Museum
Entering the Museum was slightly jarring at first. Despite the fact that it's called a 'Garden Museum,' I wasn't really prepared for the open, outdoor quality of the space. Just as I entered, the sun came out from behind a patch of clouds, sending a ray of light through the opening in the far left corner of the ceiling. Once I adjusted to the idea of a 'Garden Museum,' however, I became quickly bored with Area 1. The division of the space seemed unnecessary; I felt like the work would have had a greater impact had the space been left more open.
Area 2 (the garden) was lovely, but, with the exception of the fountain (I love fountains!), I didn't find the work that interesting. Worried that I wasn't going to enjoy anything the Museum had to offer, I decided to take a break and visit the Museum Store and Cafe. Located just inside the building, off Area 6 (I think), this large room was the most warmly-lit space in the Museum. After walking in and ordering a coffee, I realized that, despite the fact that it was a relatively warm day, I had felt cold up until that point. Something about the concrete -- both its color and its texture -- and the dependence on natural light made the whole place feel colder than it actually was.
After finishing my coffee, I returned to my tour of the Museum and finally found a piece that really did something for me. Memorial to the Dead of Hiroshima (1952-82), in Area 6, is a sort of arch made of several separate pieces of stone, held together simply by their placement. From there I moved through the rooms of stone sculptures, all of which seemed slightly sexual -- particularly a piece in Area 8 (the title of which I couldn't determine), which was sectioned off behind a piece of glass, and which had a kind of peep-show quality.
Upstairs felt more like, well... like a museum. The work was busier, less serene. All of the work made greater use of negative space, which led to a more dynamic feeling across the board. The landscape models, in partucular, did so through the use of varying inclines and cuts in the earth, all of which reminded me of Michael Heizer's early '70s earth works. It was also really interesting to see the famous coffee table in the context of visually similar sculpture.
Posted by Sai Sriskandarajah at 12:02 PM
Noguchi Museum
Immediately after entering the museum, I felt a sense of calmness. The air flowed through the space with a certain clarity and solemn pace. This is a cross between a temple and a quiet lake in a forest. The sculptures have a solemn presence. The trees and dirt are integrated into the structure. The mirrors on the second floor roof reflected the work in the room, creating a more fluid space. Everything inside seemed a part of everything outside all at the same time.
I noticed the interchange (or interaction) of light and dark, rough and smooth, stable and weak.
In viewing his work, it was helpful to read how he felt about it. Noguchi considered the experience of the eight years he spent creating "Behind Inner Seeking Shiva Dancing" (1976-1982) as an "intense dialog with the stone." He also has a sense that within the stone, a spirit resides. I think he tried to bring that spirit out through sculpture.
Posted by Kate Bauer at 06:31 AM
September 11, 2005
Noguchi Experience
Noguchi's sculptures left a definite impression on me. I remember leaving the museum with an urge to get a giant pick axe and start smashing rock with it!
The boulders in the first room had a primal sort of rawness to them. Seeing such massive structures carved and cut open to form new forms jogged my mind. The idea of an unbelievably gigantic and dense surface warped to Noguchi's liking evoked strong sensations in my mind. It was very difficult not to touch the stone! I had a strong urge to feel those textures as the stone went from rough to smooth and back again. I like the fact that these rocks contained imperfections, much of them left in their raw form. This allowed space for nature itself to become intertwined with Noguchi's interpretation. I also believe that great art can come from imperfection.
The sculptures in other rooms successfully explored a wide variety of textures and materials, all providing a different feeling to them. In the case of some of the smoother surfaces, Noguchi was able to mold rock into liquid. The spaces these sculptures created was strong, but very dependent on many proximate factors. The way the spaces were felt depended on different factors such as, the way the light fell on them from above, the angle and distance at which you observed them, and the amount of space between them and another object. I tried to make myself sensitive to these considerations. From further away some of the different coloration's on the stone appeared to be textures within the stone, however upon closer inspection they were actually shadows created by portions of the stone jutting out. The ability to walk up close to the stone was essential to making the exhibit successful.
Overall the exhibit revealed a forceful energy revealed through the clash of textures and materials along the complex curves and crevices of a sculpted surface. I noticed that many of these surfaces left unseen directional lines that would irradiate out of the sculpture itself. For example, the sculpture with water in it literally spilled it's material onto the earth. Others had visible shadows traced along the wall behind them or invisible implied masses extending outward.
After analyzing this exhibit I remember having a slightly different perception of my surroundings as I biked home.
Posted by Karl Channell at 11:11 PM
Visit to the Noguchi Museum
On Friday afternoon I took the train up to the Noguchi museum.
I liked the first room you enter, as it blends outdoor and indoor space very nicely. I wasn't very fond of the corrugated metal on the ceiling though.
The next room I saw was upstairs. It had a very light grain of wood and a skylight. It felt more open and airy than downstairs (which is odd, I guess, because downstairs was actually exposed to the outdoors).
Downstairs I really liked the rooms with the wood ceilings set against the I-beams holding them up. I liked that you could smell the finish of the wood.
I enjoyed the Japanese lights in the video room. As for the garden, there was something I didn't like about the layout. I can't put my finger on it though. I think maybe I would have preferred grass to all of the small rocks. I did like that the walls did a good job of keeping street noise to a minimum
As for the sculptures, I enjoyed his work with metal much more than the rock monoliths at the beginning. In particular I liked the one that looked like a hanged man. I also liked the spiral marble stuff he had there. One in particular was a favorite, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what it's name was. It wasn't listed on any of the large laminated cards.
Towards the end of my visit I began to wonder if Noguchi had also done this sculpture on the campus of my undergrad school, UPenn. As it turns out, he didn't.
I walked back to the Queensboro bridge down 10th Street, which was rather interesting.
Posted by Andrew Maskin at 08:43 PM
The morning with Noguchi
See here for my blogs for spatial design
Posted by min at 06:29 PM | Comments (0)
Noguchi Visit
Reflections
This saturday, September 11th, I visited the Noguchi museum in Queens. The only cross town train to Queens from Brooklyn is the G which I have been told is best to avoid. I took the F from Brooklyn, which took me through Manhattan and back east into Queens. All roads here seem to lead through Manhattan like a star network cluster. To get anywhere reliably, you have to go through the center of the star.
The Museum is a still sanctuary situated within an industrial zone. The charm of New York, where the most wonderful thing can be hidden behind a pile of garbage. No one shopping at Cosco or fishing off the back pier had ever heard of the museum.
For me, the most enchanting part of the Museum was the first room and the outside garden. I've always enjoyed buildings that break the lines between inside and outside. Buildings that are turned inside-out, where the outside structure feels like you are inside and the "entering" makes you feel like you are coming outside. The first room, allowing nature to enter from all sides, helped the sculptures to become something greater than museum pieces. Without any barriers between the viewer and the piece (except for the 'do not touch the art' signs) the viewer exists alongside the sculptures.
The piece existing as is, without a roped of barrier, an artist statement or even a name leaves us with just the piece. The artist isn't meeting us half way with an artist statement or an idea of their personal intentions. We are alone with the piece and either it moves us or it doesn't.
With the initial experience in the front room, the rest of the museum was much less inviting. Although the pieces were powerful, they were enclosed within conventional walls, air conditioning and artificial light. Experiencing Noguchi's works as he intended them to be experienced is detrimented by the curators' attempt to preserve the pieces.
Noguchi's furniture on the second floor was very elegant, simple and functional. I especially liked the chair made of two wooden pieces at odds with each other. When an individual sits in the chair, the balancing structure that is the chair is reinforced as the individual is placing pressure on both pieces of wood in opposite directions.
Posted by Bukhin, Mike at 06:28 PM
Noguchi Museum
I decided to walk to the museum. I live in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, so Queens is just over the Pulaski Bridge. It’s about a 3mile hike, which didn’t seem that long, but by the time I reached the museum the pavement had gotten pretty hot. The museum’s interior is a contrast to the hot industrial neighborhood outside. The first thing I noticed in the main room were the trees growing up trough a hole in the ceiling. Then I noticed most of the light in the room was form open spaces cut high on the walls. The museum was very separated from the urban-outside, but the open spaces, sunlight, trees and fresh air made it feel very close to nature. Since it was mostly natural light I would imagine the direction and color of the light would change depending weather conditions and time of day, and that this would make the sculpture look different depending when you visited. I forgot to ask what they do in the winter with the snow and cold weather.
When I looked into Noguchi before I went to the museum I was impressed by his mixed-media pieces using metal, granite, marble and water. What intrigued me the most about the pieces in the museum, however, was not the media he used, but the marks left by his tools. More specifically, how he chose to mix the marks left by his power tools with the marks used by his hand tools with the naturally occurring marks and shape of the rock. It was a combination of the rock’s natural beauty with areas of high design and areas that were roughly worked, almost unfinished. It was interesting to see marks left by a hammer attempting to crack the granite stone next to the marks left by bamboo sticks that actually cracked the stone. I never thought bamboo could crack granite.
Posted by Leif Mangelsen at 11:11 AM
September 10, 2005
Noguchi
I really enjoyed my time here, but felt like the museum is on the verge of sculpture overpopulation. Naguchi saw himself as a designer of space (playscapes, gardens), and the whole museum is designed by him as a work of art, but he made too many objects for this space! I felt like my experience of the space was a domination of the objects that it contained, as opposed to a balance of space and contents. Although the space was serving the sculpture, I was not so sure that the sculpture was serving the space. Thoughts?
I liked how the floor plan unfolded. He hides things from you, until you are ready to find them. It was disorienting at first, which was a pleasure. I felt like there was no one place to begin, but whichever starting point I chose, my journey was shaped by the organization of the space, in that it required me to experience the sculptures in specific, related groups. Also, I appreciate how the space is designed to be experiential, and that it has no text that might activate the more rational, judgemental, “knowing” mind. In the stonework, there’s a lot of contrast between the texture of untouched natural surface and the polished exterior of human intervention. It would be great if the space reflected that more. Everything is so controlled - there is virtually nothing of the wild or random aspects of nature. I imagine how much I would enjoy interior rooms being overgrown with shrubbery, his sculptures almost disappearing from view, back into nature.
Also would have enjoyed it if he had chosen to use more vertical space, and displayed work in overhead areas, to balance out all the work displayed on the floor.
Nice quote from the video: “You can find out how to do something and then do it, or you can do something and then find out what you did.”
Posted by Ed Purver's ITP Blog at 11:11 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack