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Intepreting Natureby Kevin Thurston |
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Albert Camus writes in The Myth of Sisyphus,
“At the final stage you teach me that this wondrous and multicolored universe can be reduced to the atom and that the atom itself can be reduced. All this is good and I wait for you to continue. But you tell me of an imaginary planetary system in which electrons gravitate around a nucleus. You explain the world to me with an image. I realize then you have been reduced to poetry: I shall never know.”
Gary Nickard’s and Reinhard Reitzenstein’s current exhibit, “Pluto’s Cave: Making Visible the Invisible: An Exhibition by ACME PHYSICS,” at Big Orbit Gallery, illustrates Camus’ words with precision. But, unlike Camus, the words they use to describe their exhibition can be at times troubling. While artistic statements are notoriously obtuse, Nickard is a conceptual artist (Reitzenstein is a multi-media artist and sculptor) and conceptual art as a genre is one wherein language has historically played an important role.
Before engaging the artists’ words, the exhibit itself needs to be addressed. The centerpiece is Reinzenstein’s tree sculpture, a full-grown tree complete with its root system, suspended on its side via poles with ropes of a sort, which is monitored by various instruments that interpret the tree’s vitality. The symbolic importance of the tree is taken as a given (knowledge, the fall, etc.), to the artists’ credit. But the artists’ aim, like the atom smasher they employ, is to render the unseen aspects of nature visible through interpreted, that is measured, projections. Against a far wall is a series of scales that measure the weight of pinecones, bark and other products of nature. This second interpretation of measuring nature, on a much smaller scale, creates a harmonic balance with the imposing, and jarring, by virtue of its being uprooted, tree sculpture.
There is throughout this exhibition a deluge of images: microscope slides, waves, particles and photography. In particular, and again, revolving around the symbolism of the tree is an obelisk made of film negatives. The obelisk not only shares structural similarities with an upright tree’s trunk, it also calls into play another image of knowledge, the obelisk in the beginning of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. It is during the “dawn of man” sequence that the obelisk is conveyed to the viewer as a source of an eerie noise. This echoes in the exhibit as the whir of scientific instruments plays on behind the viewer. Indeed, it is the overwhelming amount to experience that allows for such complexities to arise: how serious are we to take not only the artists’ words, but the physical art itself? It is at this point that the artists’ statement may offer the viewer a path to explore.
“It is time that this sublime noumenal world became accessible to everyone—especially artists who can help the general public constructively engage this mysterious and (to them) frightening realm.” Here Nickard and Reizenstein begin to tread some very dangerous ground, separating the artist(s) from the public and sets up a relationship that then mimics the relationship between government and public. If it were to end there, it could be argued that unlike governments where transparency is to be discouraged, these artists are seeking to educate in the clearest terms possible. Instead, they go on to write “Now a group of artists is undertaking the same process 73 years after Cockroft’s and Walton’s 1932 achievement (splitting the atom)—it has taken that long for art to catch up to science—so perhaps somebody should nominate us for an Ignobel Prize.”
This language further divides the artist and the public, and posits a dangerous concept. Not only is the majority of art publicly funded, the public often feels that what art they do see is not addressed to them, that they must be insiders to ‘get it’. That is, if art is slow in catching up with science, then the public is even worse off, and without these artists they would be left in ignorance. And, given Camus’ angst-ridden statement (published in 1955) is this even true?
With these reservations about the framework in mind, the exhibit itself does illustrate the artists’ aim with flawless technique. Working with the notion that in the ‘invisible world’ you can either see waves or particles, but never both at once, they create a marvelous parallel with the exhibit itself; the viewer can either focus on the science of the exhibit or the aesthetics. Only after, when both sets of data are compiled, can “rational inference” allow the viewer to synthesize the experience of this exhibit.
The exhibit is not, for all its vocabulary, an imposing one; indeed at times it even feels campy (recall ACME PHYSICS). All the scientific equipment seems antiquated, reflecting the artists’ statement that art is 73 years behind science, and even feels a bit like a black and white horror set of what a mad-scientist’s lab should look like. The antiquated equipment creates a wrinkle: questioning the “commitment” to the serious tone that the artists take in their statement versus the exhibit itself. This is all for the greater good, and illustrates the maturity of the artists involved as they mix textures and attitudes to create an exhibit that should be on everyone’s required viewing list. The show is up at Big Orbit through December 18th.
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Issue Navigation> Issue Index > v4n47: W: The Incredible Shrinking Man (11/23/05) > Intepreting Nature This Week's Issue • Artvoice Daily • Artvoice TV • Events Calendar • Classifieds |
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