I’m trying to read “Ways of Seeing” by John Berger, as
recommended for the Context of Practice course.
Note the “trying”.
I’m struggling to understand its relevance to the work I
produce myself.
As I said in my previous blog, I am leery of
deliberately trying to steer observers’ thoughts by incorporating "signs" in my work; I suspect there’s a fine
dividing line between looking crass and being too subtle to get noticed.
Maybe other people can do this successfully and I’m not
sophisticated enough?
I was thinking
this today while I was admiring a collection of three blown glass objects, made by Adam Johns, in
one of the college showcases.
Adam's Artist's Statement says:
As a studio glass designer and maker I enjoy the constant challenge that glassblowing presents. In this project I have focussed on the specific characteristics of certain grotesque insects and amphibians and their associated warning colours.
I wanted to explore the emotions experienced by the viewer using certain colour combinations, shapes and textures which I hope bring into question our perception of small insects and amphibians.
They're presented in small collections to try and enhance the tensions which I feel exist between them. It brings into question whether the pieces are interacting with or repelling each other.
Impressive!
I don't know whether I'd dare ask Adam what came first - making the pieces or coming up with the concept behind the artist's statement.
If it was me, I can imagine making a bunch of nice looking objects, looking for a “common denominator” that would justify calling them a collection and then writing a statement to steer observers into making the same connection.
If it was me, I can imagine making a bunch of nice looking objects, looking for a “common denominator” that would justify calling them a collection and then writing a statement to steer observers into making the same connection.
I suspect this sort of thing goes on quite a bit. When students' work is displayed for assessment some of the sketch-books are beautiful, so beautiful that they might have been created once the actual work of art had been completed.
I'm left with a couple of questions:
I'm left with a couple of questions:
- Are artist's statements a bit of a cop-out in that they become part and parcel of the work of art, conveying meanings that aren't otherwise obvious? Shouldn't the work of art speak for itself?
- Perhaps I would have found my own interpretation of Adam's work if I hadn't read his statement?
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