INTRODUCTION
A
fundamental feature of craft, in fact its defining principal,
is the deft, and sophisticated handling of materials. This is
the under-pinning of its creative expression. This fact is made
clear by the choice of self-definition of craftspeople in the
current climate of devaluation and abandonment of the term 'craft';
most choose the term 'maker' to underline the fundamental aspect
of their practice - the handling of materials.
This profound familiarity with both the technology and metaphor
of materials is acquired through a long apprenticeship. An apprenticeship
that begins not with the first courses of formal training in craft
but with our first experiences of the material world around us.
The nature of these initial formative interactions with the material,
spatial and functional world are culture specific and richly interconnected.
They can also be strongly individual. This rich matrix of experience
and association amounts to personal memory.
Eloquent artistic expression through 'craft media' entails the
self conscious analysis of personal memory coupled with a profound
exploration of the nature of materials. This exploration results
in what could be called maker's memory. This is both physical
and intellectual and results from daily intimate contact with
material and process. An intimacy which the audience for the finished
work rarely shares but which is essential if the work is to speak
clearly. This paper will analyse some aspects of the formation
of 'maker's memory'.
Within societies with cohesive and long-standing traditional aesthetic
disciplines the subliminal aesthetic training and personal explorations
of the artist is modulated by established traditional values -
a cultural memory. Traditional aesthetics are highly sophisticated
and long formal apprenticeships are necessary to develop the particular
understanding and technical ability necessary for recognised mastery.
Personal deviations from long accepted norms are only acceptable
once this apprenticeship has been completed and even then only
when the innovations can be seen to further rather than disrupt
the existing standards. Cultural memory acts as a guide to correct
taste and is understood both by the trained artist and the cultivated
audience.
Artists
and craftspeople in contemporary western societies such as Australia
are faced with a cultural pot pouri. Many have recently been displaced
from traditional societies through migration, others live or were
born here in Australia within a culturally distinct minority and
others again have no traditional values on which they can rely.
All are free to create works which are profoundly personal and
individual; which may draw on their own cultural heritage, appropriate
someone else's or delve freely across cultures. Where are the
guideposts in such a cultural environment?
If 'cultural memory' isn't broadly shared it is subsumed into
'personal memory': it becomes an idiosyncratic thing only to be
appreciated by a small 'in group': 'a series of private negotiations
between artists and private purchasers, or artists and individual
curators'. Personal and maker's memory become paramount and individual
'artistic expression' holds sway. In this way contemporary craft
work can be seen as a fundamentally postmodern activity rather
than reactionary as it is frequently portrayed. It is created
through an eclectic bricolage of personal memories and associations
drawn from across disciplines and having validity or significance
only for a minority audience: not an informed elite necessarily,
but a group linked through common experience and parallel aesthetics.
Material based art/craft practice, although based on a personal
aesthetic derived through a lifetime of interaction with materials,
has the potential to touch an audience not through the medium
of a consensually accepted, and often rigidly defined, aesthetic
(as in traditional cultures) but through a process much like a
conversation between two individuals sharing common experiences
and memories.
What
is the basis for this conversation? What are the elements of the
language used and how do they come to be shared? Considering that
the crafts are generally perceived to be conservative and in fact
to be a bastion for tradition, what role is there for tradition
in contemporary craft practice? How can tradition play a role
in the development of a personal aesthetic?
To
answer some of these questions this paper will look at the formation
of a strong personal aesthetic drawing on but not incorporated
within traditional systems; through the example of contemporary
Japanese material based sculptors and the individual 'American'
sculptor Isamu Noguchi. Finally, the examples taken from sculptural
practice will be examined as a role model for the crafts - to
see whether a personal aesthetic drawn from personal and maker's
memory incorporating lessons from appropriated cultural memory
provides a valuable model for practice.
ISAMU NOGUCHI
In her Doctoral dissertation on the American-Japanese sculptor
Isamu Noguchi (1904-1988) Nancy Grove denies a strongly biographical
element in his oeuvre. In her conclusion, however, she goes into
some detail regarding the development of his particularly diverse
material sensibility, directly relating his facility and symbolic
associations with various materials to intense periods of direct
working with those materials and the life experiences associated
with those periods - ie. the formation of his 'maker's memory'.
When he was ten he helped his mother build a small wooden house
for their family where he worked directly with traditional Japanese
carpenters absorbing their ways of working with wood. Years later
he apprenticed himself to Constantin Brancusi in Paris. Brancusi
stressed the importance of a direct, one to one confrontation
with materials.
'The way things were made was important, the difficulty of making,
the limits imposed by the medium to which in turn his concepts
must fit.....out of the limitations of matter and the working
of it came the essence of his sculpture. The concept was not
imposed but was inherent within the relationship of the artist
to his materials. There was a communion with nature, the nature
of materials'.
Back in New York, in 1944, Noguchi began to use thin sheets of
slate and marble which had been cut as building facias: 'their
machine tooled thinness and polish were associated, for Noguchi,
with the ambitious, high-tech atmosphere of New York'.
On his first trip to Japan in 1931 he spent 4 months working in
the studio of master potter Uno Jinmatsu in the Higashiyama district
of Kyoto. During his extended trip to Japan in the early 1950's,
he lived and worked on the property of the famous contemporary
ceramist Rosanjin Kitaoji and worked almost exclusively in clay,
producing a solo exhibition which toured several Japanese cities.
Clay was the only easily available sculpting material in post
war Japan but it had a greater significance for Noguchi who had
recently spent several months on an intensive study tour in the
Kansai district absorbing the aesthetic principles of the tea
ceremony, tea house architecture, Zen gardens, and traditional
ink painting. In the sculptor's mind clay became fundamentally
associated with an aesthetic culture attuned with nature.
While working with papermakers in Gifu on the development of his
'Akari' lamps, Noguchi found artisans who could cast iron in the
tradition of tea ceremony kettles. In thee pieces created in collaboration
with these craftsmen, first shown in New York's Stable Gallery
in 1959, 'the grainy surface of iron suggests the quality of age,
so important to the tea masters, while the lightness of the modelling
suggests the paradox necessary for the poetic dimensions of tea'.
Following a pattern established during his 1950's study tour of
Europe and Asia, Noguchi began stopping in Greece in transit between
Japan and New York. Here he selected roughed out blocks of marble
to be shipped to him in New York. 'At first he finished the blocks
in New York, and the images combined classical simplicity with
the sleekness and coolness of the city. Later, he worked in Italian
marble quarries, where the pieces became chunkier, more colourful,
full of contrapasto...'. From the late 1950's until his death,
Noguchi did practically no stoneworking in New York. His studio
stonework was carried out in Japan on the island of Shikoku where
he established a studio in 1968. He increasingly associated stone
with granite, and particularly with the granite from Shikoku.
Granite increasingly became the subject of his late sculptures:
'its colours, textures, volume and density, together with the
marks of the tools used to shape it superceded even the consistent,
persistent symbolism which informs virtually all his earlier work'.Towards
the end of his life Noguchi said that stone is 'a direct link
to the heart of matter - a molecular link. When I tap it, I get
the echo of that which we are - in the solar plexus - in the center
of gravity of matter'.
Thus Noguchi's material expertise, gained over decades of study
and experimentation across three continents, was matched by a
personal aesthetic and metaphoric language of materials developed
simultaneously through his direct personal experience of both
the materials he used and the places where he worked them: a fusion
of maker's and personal memory.
Noguchi's contact with a series of both western and eastern aesthetic
traditions shaped his own synthetic material culture. His ability
to adopt and interpret a highly sophisticated traditional aesthetic
form is clearly illustrated by a series of 'garden' environments
created during the 1960's and 1970's. The first of these projects
was the Gardens for UNESCO in Paris constructed during 1956-58.
Here Noguchi created a tribute to his understanding of the classic
stroll and stone ('karesansui') gardens of Japan. This involved
the importation of 88 tons of natural stone from several sources
in Japan, seventy cherry tree saplings and varieties of dwarf
bamboo, camellia and decorative maples. Noguchi also enlisted
the aid of Touemon Sano a sixteenth generation garden designer
from Kyoto. This was a troubled collaboration and highlighted
the distance between the sculptor's personal vision and interpretation
and the reality of the living tradition embodied by Sano. By 1963
when Noguchi undertook the Chase Manhattan Bank Plaza garden his
experience of large scale environmental projects had increased
and he had the confidence to undertake this stone garden guided
purely by his own vision. Despite its superficial resemblance
to traditional 'karesansui' gardens this project actually marked
a reaction to, and even a reversal of the tradition which he had
paid homage to in Paris.
Noguchi is seen as a quintessential Modern sculptor with a highly
prolific career spanning the twentieth century: an 'art hero'
shining with the energy and inspiration of the sole creative genius.
But contemporary critics always found it difficult to interpret
his work and locate him within a current mainstream. Following
his 1949 show at New York's Egan Gallery Clement Greenberg criticised
Noguchi for his 'excessive taste.....excessive polish and smoothness
of surface, an excessive clarity and precision of drawing': an
implicit attack on Noguchi's distance from the New York School
sculptural strategies of 'rough finish, rugged materials and grandiose
themes'. Almost twenty years later, in response to the 1968 Whitney
retrospective, Hilton Kramer found Noguchi 'indebted to traditions
and sentiments that have outworn their relevance to contemporary
experience'. Most reviews of the 70's and 80's saw his work only
as a product of his mixed cultural heritage and at that time there
wasn't a postcolonial theoretical framework to validate his art.
Analysis
of his oeuvre, his influences and his personal philosophy reveals
him to be a 'proto-postmodernist'. With a strongly synthetic approach,
developing his own personal aesthetic through appropriation and
direct involvement with a broad range of traditional and contemporary
aesthetic practices. Noguchi consistently refused to be consistent.
'In this century of self, he has experimented so widely with materials
and styles as to remain historically unclassifiable. In this age
of gallery-museum monopoly of art consumption, he has devoted
himself to sculpture which is experienced domestically, momentarily
or anonymously'. The difficulty of a whole generation of artists
and critics to deal with his work arises from these fundamentally
post-modern attributes.
It
is interesting to note that perhaps the most enduring of his works
are the 'Akari' lamps which have become an icon of 20th century
design. His desire to make his work accessible to everyone was
perfectly realised through this marriage of sculpture and function.
In his reverence for and intoxication with materials, his sculptural
and architectural understanding of the articulation of space,
his understanding of function and his desire for ubiquity and
acceptance of anonymity for his work, Noguchi was truly a master
craftsperson! Ê
CONTEMPORARY
JAPANESE SCULPTURE
Noguchi studied and appropriated traditional aesthetics and techniques
while working within a contemporary American milieu often at a
distance from the source of these influences. But what developments
can be seen in a country where traditional aesthetics have maintained
a strong influence at the same time that western modes of practice
have been adopted? What is the role of the traditional aesthetic
in this context?
Until recently the term 'Japanese sculpture' usually was used
only in reference to the strong tradition of religious figurative
sculpture from the Nara, Heian and Kamakura periods (7-14th centuries)
which went into decline almost 700 years ago. Western sculpture
was introduced to Japan in the mid 1900's when the previously
closed doors of Japan were opened to a flood of western influences.
Ambitious young artists travelled to the ateliers of Europe and
returned with knowledge and examples of the latest trends. Rodin's
works arrived in Japan in the early 20th Century but his example
wasn't followed and conservative academic styles became the entrenched
norm until after World War 2. It wasn't until the 1970's that
distinctive vital sculpture, in the modern sense, began to be
produced in any quantity.
Contemporary Japanese sculpture has been shaped by two seminal
movements: 'Gutai' in the 50's and 'Mono-ha' in the late 60's
and early 70's. The Gutai artists were mostly young and unknown
but formed around the well-known painter Jiro Yoshihara. The group
was open to anyone, the participants shifted and their work changed
constantly. They concentrated on 'performances, kinetic sculpture,
environments and other ephemeral forms and on painting by novel
means'. Despite their acceptance of new technologies and constant
striving for newness their attitude to materials was intrinsically
traditional;
'Gutai Art does not alter materials. Gutai Art provides materials
with life. Gutai Art does not cheat materials. In Gutai Art,
the human spirit and materials , though still in antagonism,
shake hands with each other. Materials never assimilate themselves
into the spirit; the spirit does not subjugate materials. Materials
start telling stories when their innate characteristics are
exposed as they really are; they even give a cry. To make the
fullest use of materials is also the way to make the best of
the spirit. Enhancing the spirit is giving materials their nobility.'
Mono-ha began in 1968 and was already fading by 1972. It was centred
around graduates of Tama Art University who had studied under
the seminal painter and sculptor Yoshishige Saito, considered
the link between the pre-war avant-garde and the postwar radicals.
Most of these artists had majored in painting but turned to 3
dimensional work. Mono-ha was partly a reaction to the optical
emphasis and visual manipulation of Japanese painting of the 60's
but was an even deeper reaction to what was seen as a period of
'political and commercial propaganda, in which things were obscured
by words and representations and the experience of encountering
anything directly became increasingly rare'. These
artists were active during the violent student demonstrations
of the late 60's and saw their work as a search for 'a candid
vision of an undisguised world'.
These dozen or so sculptors were linked through their common attitude
to materials. They used ordinary materials like earth, stone,
wood, metal, paper and fiber; they used the term 'material' rather
than 'medium' to overturn assumptions about the neutrality of
substances. They also sought to replace the adversarial opposition
to nature demonstrated by western sculpture (eg. the massive earthworks
of contemporary American sculptors such as Michael Heizer) with
a partnership. Integral to their approach was a rejection of the
centrality and independence of the sculpted object: they saw their
works not as finished objects but merely as temporary confluences
or configurations. The sculptor didn't impress his own ego on
the work but acted simply as a builder or composer, facilitating
the expression of the materials themselves (Fig 3). Thus the focus
was not inward on the genius of the hero/artist but outward on
our relationship with the surrounding world. In fact, they followed
the fundamental 'relativistic' precept of Buddhism of a world
in constant flux with no dichotomy between the inner and outer
worlds, or between the maker and the made: preferring to make
each work an integral part of its surroundings, often melding
indistinguishably with the gallery space itself or having a rough,
raw or unfinished appearance implying the impossibility of finality.
These common approaches of primacy of materiality, rejection of
the isolated (and hence commodifiable) sculpted object and sublimation
of the artist's ego have been pursued by the generation of sculptures
to follow Mono-ha. For many of these artists material is both
subject and medium:
'the work may derive a metaphysical quality from the Shinto
belief that spirits reside in natural objects, it may reflect
a conscious desire to pay respect to nature, it may express
a concern with the real rather than the ideal, or it may demonstrate
the social meaning of materialism' .
This 'animistic materialism' provides a cultural path through
the artificiality, alienation and cultural heterogeneity of contemporary
Japan and results in work that is both simple or even mundane
and at the same time profound.
There are a number of common themes in much contemporary Japanese
sculpture which distinguish it from contemporary trends in the
West. In general, Japanese sculpture is concerned with parts rather
than wholes. Work is often modular and this is particularly true
of larger scale works which are rarely monumental as in the West
but always retain a human scale and are often composed of a large
number of repeat elements; an accretion rather than erection (Fig
4). An aspect of this open-ended modularity is a focus on temporality.
Like the Mono-ha artists before them many contemporary artists
see their work as temporary confluences. Sculpture is an expression
of deeper spiritual beliefs in the inter-connectedness of all
things and the inexorable and cyclical processes of time. These
spiritual attitudes have been manifestly expressed in the traditional
architecture of Japan; especially in shrine, temple, garden and
tea-house architecture. Contemporary sculpture shares many of
these architectural sensibilities (Fig 7); sensitivity to the
nature of and relationship between natural materials, fluidity
and modularity, the absence of central mass, a focus on the modulation
of space and particularly the relationship between 'external'
and 'internal' environments, and an acute awareness of the passage
of time. Unlike their Mono-ha predecessors contemporary sculptors
work more directly and concretely with materials; they don't just
'bring them together'. In dealing with materials these sculptors
are concerned with the metaphoric content of the material itself,
the quality of surfaces (the 'skin' of materials), and the relationship
between materials. The works themselves are singularly abstract:-
'the sculptures depict nothing and allude to nothing but themselves,
but this does not mean that they are without content. They suggest
the histories of their materials: what stone has meant to Japanese
culture, man's industrial development, the contemporary environments
fashioned by nature and mankind.'
This
work has particular value for the crafts in that it embodies an
attitude to materials that is lacking in other contemporary sculpture
disciplines but which is inherently attuned to craft sensibilities.
Many of the Japanese sculptors who have now gained widespread
attention in the West were initially classified as avant-garde
craftspeople. This is largely a result of the arbitrary separation
of art and craft in the West based on the artist's involvement
with material. This separation is a new concept in Japan and one
that defies traditional sensibilities. Many contemporary Japanese
sculptors have had training in what, in the west, would be called
craft. Jae-Eun Choi, Hisako Sekijima, Masao Ueno and others have
studied ikebana which, like sculpture, has a symbolic as well
as aesthetic language, deals primarily with mass and space and
which constantly strives for new modes of expression. Akio Hamatani
, Satoru Shoji, Emiko Tokushige
and Masao Yoshimura are among a number of artists who have recently
gained international repute through showing at 'craft' exhibitions
such as the Sixth International Biennale of Tapestry in Lausanne,
the Perth Craft Triennial (1989) and 'Restless Shadows' touring
the UK in 1991-2. Many of these artists are formally trained in
weaving or other textile traditions but others have simply been
grouped as fiber artists because of their choice of materials
which are subsequently addressed in a formalist sculptural mode.
The work of these sculptors has relevance beyond the culture which
spawned it - a fact that is born out by the recent showing of
these artists throughout the world. Fox in his essay accompanying
the 'Primal Spirit' exhibition at the Los Angeles County Museum
of Art argues for a distinctive Japanese quality for these works.
Koplos has pointed out that:
'Fox framed his assertions of Japanese distinctiveness so emphatically...to
head off dismissals of the work as retrograde or irrelevant...as
this work follows none of the recently prominent themes in New
York - no appropriation, no commodities, no language, no French
or German philosophy, no politics, no social commentary not
even any personal expressionism' .
The
artists themselves have denied traditional inspiration in their
work. Art training in Japan owes much to western models and draws
strongly on western tradition and most of the well recognised
artists have spent long periods of time living and studying overseas.
But in denying the cultural bias in contemporary work Japanese
artists are perhaps overlooking a major well-spring.
'Striving to escape the pitfalls of provincialism or the even
more abhorred trap of nationalism - a concern that has plagued
artists since the postwar period - Japanese artists have rarely
examined the deeply ingrained and largely unrecognised cultural
assumptions that colour their work'.
Clearly
such work can't be separated from the international mainstream;
if it was culturally unique would it speak to us so clearly? Many
western sculptors can, in fact, be compared with the artists represented
in 'Primal Spirit' on the basis of 'shared concerns for ephemerality
(Michael Singer, Andy Goldsworthy, Nils Udo), respect for material
(David Nash, Martin Puryear, and even Tony Cragg, Michel Goulet,
or Donald Lipski) or importance of process (Jackie Winsor, Richard
Serra, Puryear again and one might add John McQueen or Richard
DeVore)'. Much contemporary Japanese work resembles American minimalist
sculpture of the 50's and 60's but this resemblance is largely
incidental: in contrast to Japanese sculptors the minimalists
strove to get rid of the sensuous object and to avoid intimacy.
The Japanese sculptors are dealing with themes that are common
to all post-industrial societies in the late twentieth century
and are drawing, whether consciously or not, on sensibilities
and 'cultural memories' that are unique to their society but which
have a universal currency.
CONCLUSION
Why has this paper so closely analysed the construction of material
sensibilities in sculpture when its proposed focus is the crafts?
One reason is that the particular sculptors examined have developed
a notable versatility and eloquence with materials and, in the
case of Noguchi, the means by which this has developed is well
documented. Another reason is that sculptors have self-consciously
explored the 'content' of the materials they use more thoroughly
and for a longer period than craftspeople. A third reason is that
contemporary material based sculpture should provide a partner
for discourse with craft disciplines sharing a parallel interest
in the metaphorical content of material itself.
Herbert Read called sculpture 'an art of palpation - an art that
gives satisfaction in the touching and handling of objects'. This
was in 1955 and one could argue that this was perhaps the last
time in the twentieth century that contemporary sculpture would
be seen this way. The 1960's would see minimalism and earthworks
take the leading roles in sculptural discourse and the 70's and
80's would see the dominance of conceptual modes of practice -
all of these movements would devalue the material skills of the
sculptor and even abandon the sculpted object itself.
In the West, a consequence of the movement away from the primacy
of the material object has been the assumption by the 'crafts'
of the title of the 'art of palpation'. Read in his later writings
was adamantly opposed to the crafts assuming this expressive role.
He followed the modernist line, viewing craft purely as an adjunct
to mainstream industry - the design labs. The fact that craft
began its revival at exactly the same time that sculpture abandoned
the object indicates that craft had discovered a pathway of valid
creative endeavour abandoned by sculpture. Contemporary studio
crafts throughout the world have enthusiastically followed this
path and in doing so have even gone so far as to abandon the functional
paradigm within which they were traditionally constrained. The
material itself, our associations with it, the imagery of the
work and our relationship with it have become the important characteristics
of a craft work; whether it functions as a pot or chair is often
incidental. But when the crafted object turns away from its functional
traditions and ventures into the realm until recently occupied
by sculpture where can the maker turn for aesthetic dialogue?
As Sue Rowley has emphasised 'generating theory is a collaborative
venture' but to avoid 'the constraints of our immediate intellectual
environments' and broaden the dialogue we need to look at other
fields which share our concerns and enthusiasms.
Contemporary Japanese sculpture exploring materiality and even
Western sculptors sharing similar concerns have, until recently,
been overlooked by the Western sculptural mainstream. We have
seen that in Japan the sculpted object can serve as a creative
and even spiritual anchor in a world of dissolving cultural values
and increasing alienation. Within the critical context of contemporary
Western sculpture, all of the sculptors discussed have at one
time or another been criticised for their 'craftiness' and outmoded
or alien values. But can their interest in the content of materials
simply be brushed off as a retrogressive modernist or even classical
attitude? We have seen that the attitude to materials of these
sculptors isn't a formalist object based approach but is derived
from ingrained cultural values and an active rejection of the
primacy of both the artist and the object. Clearly, the attitude
to materials embodied in these sculptural works can be brought
to bear on craft practice. In Japan there is no border between
craft and sculpture, contemporary sculptors work beyond the constraints
of both traditions but with the freedom to draw on their matrix
of associations - ie. incorporate cultural into personal memory.
Surely also in the West, craft can draw on sculptural practices
which address the questions with which craft can deal with most
effectively and which are, fundamentally, explorations which depart
from the traditional base of the crafts - material sensibility.
Peter Fuller has decried the loss of a shared visual culture,
a culture in which artists use symbols we all understand because
we share the dominant culture. We noted in the introduction that
the fragmentation of the dominant culture is one of the major
features of post-modern society. This isn't a cause for regret,
in fact, its a cause for celebration allowing each of us to make
our own world anew. This has been one of the goals of the contemporary
craft . By dissolving the borders between aesthetic disciplines
and searching beyond the 'mainstream' for dialogue with parallel
disciplines contemporary crafts practitioners can create a vital
aesthetic culture building on their own experience and understanding
of materials.
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