Alberti’s Window

The idea of taking found objects and creating “ready-made” sculptures began with Marcel Duchamp in 1913 with his Bicycle Wheel. Duchamp’s most famous “ready-made” is his Fountain (1917, shown left). It’s no surprise that this piece (yep, that’s a urinal!) was rejected for exhibition.

I think found object art is really interesting. It’s fun to look at an everyday object as art – it gives the object new meaning and interpretation. I also like that found objects often can cause someone to look for aesthetic value and beauty in something that is ordinary. Granted, I don’t find a lot of aesthetic beauty in Duchamp’s Fountain, but I do like to think about how the sculptural form and physical presence of the urinal parallels sculptures which follow a more Classical tradition. (The white urinal even mimics the white marble of Roman/Renaissance statues! Ha!)

Artists still make pieces from “ready-mades” and found objects. I’ve already written about the contemporary artist Jean Shin, who uses old castaway objects for her artistic projects. Another interesting artist is Stuart Hayworth. The original prototype for this chandelier on the right (Millenium, 2004) was created out of party poppers that were used for the New Year’s celebration for the year 2000. You should look check out Hayworth’s other work on his website – he has a lot of interesting, fun, and beautiful stuff.

I like thinking about how other art forms have picked up on the idea of found objects. For example, conceptual poetry (a relatively new trend) takes something that has already been written and reuses the material to generate a new poem. This podcast by the Poetry Foundation discusses how conceptual poetry is similar to Duchamp’s idea of “ready-made” art, but poets are about a hundred years behind visual artists when it comes to this artistic trend (listen at 34:44).

For an example of a conceptual poem, listen to the one at about 23:17 on the podcast. This poem was written from words that were used for the September 11, 2001 edition of the New York Times (the edition that was written before the attacks took place that morning). It’s interesting to listen to words that are so mundane and ordinary, but also charged and poignant due to the impending disaster.

If you’re interested, you can read more about conceptual poetry here.

What do you think of art from found objects? Isn’t it interesting that poetry is following this same trend? I love to compare how different artistic ideas develop within various art forms. For example, musicians also latched onto the idea of taking existing sounds and turning them into music – John Cage is probably the quintessential example for this musical trend. (And check out this relatively recent article of a musician that’s turning street sounds into music!) Conceptual poetry is a century late in following what visual artists and musicians already have done, but I wonder if Hegel would still view conceptual poetry as part of the Geist of the 20th century. Or maybe not? Perhaps poetry is moving along with its own Geist? 🙂

Jean Shin, “Chemical Balance,” 2005. Mixed-media installation of prescription pill containers

I think it’s cool that Jean Shin’s sculptures and installations are made out of castaway objects. Her work on the right, Chemical Balance (2005), is made with prescription bottles, mirrors, and epoxy. Other sculptures are made out of broken umbrellas, old lottery tickets, worn shoes, etc. You should check out Shin’s work on her website – it’s really neat. I really like her Sound Wave (2007, made out of records) and Worn Soles (2001).

This month’s edition of Smithsonian has an interview with Shin (to promote the show “Jean Shin: Common Threads” that is at the Smithsonian American Art Museum until this coming Sunday (July 26)). During the interview, Shin mentioned how she collects objects from people, starting with her friends and family members. The interviewer brought up the point that Shin’s sculptures can be seen as group portraits. Shin mentioned how she views each object as part of an individual’s history and identity, and she wants her work to “embod[y] people’s lives.”

I really like the idea of Shin’s work as group portraits. It made me think about what kind of objects could be considered as my own portrait. I thought of all the buttons in my sewing box. They are all of the extra buttons that came with the different shirts, pants, and shorts that I have owned. Some of the clothing has been long-gone, but I’ve never taken any of the old buttons out of my stash. I guess if there was a Jean Shin-esque sculpture made as my portrait, it could be of buttons.

What about you? What old/castaway objects could be your portrait? What works by Shin do you like?

Many art history students are introduced to Chuck Close’s art with this painting:

You can see how much Close’s style has changed by looking at this self portrait:

Chuck Close, “Self-Portrait,” 1997. Oil on canvas, 102 x 84″ (259.1 x 213.4 cm)

I first became familiar with the photographer Candida Höfer through her solo exhibition “Architecture of Absence.” Höfer is particularly interested in photographing public interiors at times when they are devoid of people. I think it’s interesting to see a public place when it is public-less. I really like how the space is magnified within the photographs. In a kind of oxymoronish way, Höfer’s work makes absence become a presence.

Anyhow, while I was looking for some images on a Brazilian Baroque church, I stumbled across a few photographs from Höfer’s Brazilian series. The image above, Teatro Nacional de São Carlos Lisboa I (2005), is another Brazilian photograph by Höfer. Since I found out that Höfer is interested in Brazilian architecture and public spaces, she’s a million times cooler to me. (And she was cool already.) Nice.

I think everyone has some kind of dream in which their worst fears are realized. Apparently, my worst fear revolves around being unprepared to teach an art history lecture. Last night, I dreamed that I went to go visit my past professors at my alma mater. It was the first day of summer term, and I discovered upon arrival that I was slated to teach a course that began that very afternoon! The title of the course seminar was “Washer Women in Art,” and it was supposed to cover all the extant depictions of laundresses. I started to scramble around campus, trying to find materials for the class, but I couldn’t think of any paintings to include in the slide list. I kept thinking, “I can’t think of any paintings of washer women,” and “If any paintings exist, they probably are Dutch from the 17th century.”

Needless to say, I woke up in a panic.

Naturally, I had to find out today if there are any paintings of laundresses. And there are. A lot. (Though not really any Dutch ones from 17th century, much to my subconscious’ chagrin!) Here are a couple of my favorites:

Chardin, The Laundress, 1733

 This book points out how the laundress does not wear a hoop skirt or any other fashionable clothing of the Rococo period – Chardin was interested in painting the domestic life of an ordinary French woman.