Jeff Wall

I was very interested to listen to photographer Jeff Wall when he was in town. He spoke to a packed house at the Art Institute in June. His large format, mostly color photos have an instant quality to them that belies the staging that generally go into the production.


Having spent a lifetime listening to silver gelatin-wielding friends, it was somewhat terrifying to realize just how much isn't covered in that discussion space. Large format is, from Wall's perspective partly about getting the size of the image to match the size of the original. I like that: my picture is in the 5-6 foot range, not the 8"x10" normally so popular for headshots. Imagine the look on the casting director's face when she unfolds that! Or perhaps you have the item delivered with a truck (look, no creases). Ok, kidding aside, this was an intersting viewpoint that really makes me think.

He discussed the role that critics play in helping the rest of us examine and understand his works. Clearly, he's not a fan of critics. But then he went on to explain when they got it right, for example when pieces of his reference other art works in different media. How his pieces might recreate a scene he has witnessed, how that recreation might change the event itself. He also discussed the differences in approach when planning for a light box presentation v. a hardcopy print using ink jet or other printing approaches.

His approach helped clarify something I've been discussing in terms of artistic voice. How could I render a drawing of a flower, then photograph it, write a poem and sing about it and finally present a dance on the subject. Can I present a compelling personal artistic voice so that another person might say, "that dance reminds me of that song"?

What is the relationship between performative formats? How can dance be like song? Is my crisp movement used to indicate strongly delineated articulation, say a step from right to left (think Twyla Tharp) similar to producing a vocal tone that is also strongly articulated (attention being paid to stop/start, clearness of pitch)? Yes. When a choreographer chooses the sounds to create the sonic portion of a dance piece, she chooses deliberately. Alvin Ailey's Revelations series is costumed with traditional looking clothing referencing, though not reproducing the look of the 18th or 19th century. The music used is choral gospel music. The lighting is bright colors with dramatic contrasts. All of these design elements help deliver the message in the choreography itself.

Where am I headed? Production elements are used to build a complex, unified voice. If executed well enough, that voice can be discovered across performative disciplines and the plastic arts. Sondheim's "Sunday in the Park with George" can reference Georges-Pierre Seurat's Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. But another artist might want to tackle both a painting and a tone poem or another dyptich of cross reference to enrich the final experience and exploration.

Procrastinating which can lead to stuckness

One great thing about those painful artist retreats for writers: 4 hours a day, write, even if it's a recipe, a description of doing something or something you remember from someone else. Just begin getting something on the page.

This is not to advocate rushing. Voice is full of phlegm, hum for awhile, gently clean those vocal cords. Clear your throat aggressively and all you've done is assault yourself and make way for some more healing phlegm. Same with ripping the bandage off along with the scab. If it's too soon for action, you'll know it by repeating, repating, repeating.

In response to stuckness

I have an interesting discussion going about something we're calling linearism. As a result, I've had some thoughts on stuckness. Most of the artistic blocks I have seen are a type of stuckness, though to the artist it feels more like just a blank slate or lack of inspiration.

But in terms of stuckness itself, a linear approach (first I do this, then I do that) to become unstuck is often a critial culprit in stopping progress. All the perfectionists I know have lots of reasons for why they must do a certain something before they can complete a task.

The need to finish things in proper precedence can derail or stop the train because one step isn't working out. I cannot chew the gum because I didn't take the gum out of the wrapper. While it is true the gum will taste better sans paper, it is probably possible to chew the gum with the paper on, removing bits as the paper shreds.

So how desperate are you for the flavor of gum?

encountering stuckness

Most people I've talked with about it admit they go through times when they know what they want to do (or need to do, or "should" do) but just... don't do it. Sometimes this happens as a full-blown procrastination incident, complete with agonizing. Other times, focus just shifts to something else, and we only later notice "hmm, I didn't do X yet!" Could be good or bad, depending on how urgent/important the "something else" was.

Lately, though, I've been thinking about a related but more-intense phenomenon: the kind of stuck feeling where we know a situation isn't as it should be, but have trouble even coming up with an idea about what we want to do, or need to do, or "should" do about that situation. Sometimes the stuckness even extends to an inability to imagine how the situation could be better! If it's easy to mull over hypothetical options in an abstract intellectual way, but impossible to choose one that seems best, that still counts.

The mental image I'm getting is of a student who can't solve the problem on the board, standing at the front of the class. Nobody sitting behind our student can tell if the problem is lack of comprehension, poor eyesight, fear of public performance, or a deep-seated horror of chalk (OK, OK, dry-erase markers). Maybe our stuck student just doesn't want to show off, or doesn't want to show someone else up, or hasn't had a meal in a while. It's unclear, but everyone involved is painfully aware there's a problem somewhere. The scene has burst out of its script, and nothing is flowing. Until something shifts, only an increasingly uncomfortable pause will be possible...

On the nature and danger of hiatum

Hiatum: is this a noun setting for hiatus (my intent)? After the joy of new blogging and learning some do's and dont's to posts, I have hidden away and packed my bags. Literally. I move in one short week. All my possessions are packed, I have enjoyed the luxury of living in borrowed digs, walking distance from the day job, but lightyears away from easy blog access.

I fly off for exotic (well, ok, other) climes and plan to return in time for my poor boxes to relocate to a smaller, slimmer, easier locale. Like magic, I will return and remove to the new spot.

Apologies for being out of pocket so long. So many comments are on fire in my mind. I hope to return to thinking out loud and with your assistance after Memorial Day.

Cheers,

Gillian