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September 11, 2006
Nugochi, Fuller and moving through NYC
I’ve always found to difficult to identify with sculpture and was moderately intimidated by the thought of having to write something mildly intelligent about my experiences examining the work of a famous sculptor. But my concerns were eased when I discovered that part of the exhibit featured collaborative work between Naguchi and one of my favorite inventors/philosophers Buckminster Fuller, author of Operating Manual for Starship Earth and promoter of non-specialization (which also seems to be one of the underlying philosophies at ITP).
I arranged with my group to ride to the museum by bike, which would be in itself an exploration of New York City’s spaces, from Bed-Stuy in Brooklyn to Long Island City in Queens. Along the way, I saw the neglect of public space on bicycle paths along and physical barriers that kept us from riding (construction, dead ends, etc). The group met up at the Roosevelt Island Tram, which took us along the Queensboro Bridge in a small enclosed vehicle, giving us this immense feeling of being in open space (much more so than walking along the street under the massive presence of skyscrapers). The enclosed shelter also gave me some comfort, as I am afraid of heights.
Arriving on Roosevelt Island, I was shocked by the presence of communal communist architecture in the middle of New York City. I was aware of the fact that it was there (as Jean-Marc mentioned in class), but being surrounded by it was overwhelming. With its tall concrete construction and integration of stores on the ground level, I felt that I’d returned to East Berlin, where I’d lived for half a year back in 2003. Unfortunately we had to rush through the island, skipping over the Mennonite farmers market hiding under the bridge.
Composed of industrial bricks, the main wall to the museum had a bold presence, almost protecting the contents of the museum from the outside world. The first space, which was indoors, was had features of Japanese garden design (the open roof, allowing light from the outside to pour in) and industrial design (a factory, or nowadays, loft space). Indeed the feeling in the space was a meditative calmness, caused by the open space between the initial sculptures, and the walled protection from the uncultured streets of Queens.
Of the five sculptures in the first room, the one that first attracted my attention was “The Stone Within”. It was a formal exploration of the basalt stone that Naguchi’s frequently used, demonstrating the aesthetic explorations of his materials. He smoothed out some parts of the large stone, leaving the original surface intact in other places. He also used a chiseling technique, removing little bits of the original stone, to get a different rough surface. He modified the rock in different layers.
In “Woman”, he used these surfaces to create a more literal work, using the rough original surface to create a skin and removing layers to show the inside of a woman’s body. In the center, he drilled out a womb and used a different texture to reveal the pathway to the womb.
After going through the outdoor garden, I rushed through the first floor of the main building, taking a few moments to examine the very literal “The Roar” and the contemplative “Memorial for the Dead of Hiroshima”. “Roar” was the skeletal head of a mammal (perhaps a rhino) sculpted out of white arni marble. Looking closely, you could see the subtleties of the material, which, although it was white, had areas that were almost as dark as black. The single spotlight pointing down upon the sculpture emphasized its sharp edges, casting shadows and creating more contrast to the bright materials. In its mouth area, he cut a series of shapes to represent teeth. And along the tusk-like extension, he chiseled a variety of battle-scar like cuts in the skeleton.
“Memorial” was a smooth rounded shape that was divided into sections with extremely scientific cuts, as if the atoms of the shape were being split apart through an explosion. A rope kept viewers from seeing the rear side of the sculpture.
Upon arriving upstairs, I basically hit a wall. I was already overwhelmed by the large amount of work to see. And after seeing all these (mostly) abstract medium-scale physical constructions, we were introduced to Naguchi’s architectural works, which we could only absorb through photography and three-dimensional models. At the same time, I was excited to see a more practical side of Naguchi’s work – feeling that his sculpture had less “use value” and interactivity than his urban design projects (public spaces, expo sculptures, and children’s’ playgrounds). I wish that I'd visited these works first.
The poster on the exhibition for the collaboration with Buckminster Fuller stated that their connection was a desire to improve the world not by changing people, but rather through improving the environment. Bucky always encouraged doing more with less. The special exhibition showed a number of Bucky’s dymaxion designs - for a low cost mass-produced house and 3-wheeled car – both of which ultimately never caught on.
His design for Children’s Land (1960s) was a modification on a softly-rounded hilly landscape featuring playgrounds and walking paths with a clear educational intention: to “help bring up children with sound minds and round behavior.” The models of his design showed a scientific aesthetic – with a network of cellular structures forming the core shapes of the pavilion and the children’s play areas. The installation was only temporary – it was taken down after one year. You could see how Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic and “tensegrity” designs influenced Naguchi.
The experience of going to the museum was an informative one. But the adventures we had traveling through New York City’s transportation network will likely have more of a lasting impression on me.
Posted by Jeremy Rotsztain at September 11, 2006 06:45 PM