Statement | Abstract | Image Gallery | Close Portfolio (and return to SMP index)
Tina Arndt
One Perfect Process
Often, I am not the author of the stories I attempt to create in visual form,
but am privileged to be a part of. I believe life itself is art, which can be
found in everything we do, say, and feel; and everything said, done, felt and
created has meaning and value no matter how small, or insignificant. The process
of creating art, where order and chaos dwells is equally as important if not
more important than the finished product. No matter how hard I search, experiment,
and try to find new ways of working in hopes of discovering the 'one perfect
process,' 'one perfect process' will never exist.
In the past, I was not concerned with constructing meaning, though my work in
the end was full of meaning. Over time, I have come to realize that meaning
is very important. It is the essence of life. In an untitled work that preceded
the work shown in the SMP exhibition, I assembled a piece with objects and mementos
associated with pleasant and painful memories. Knowing different people in various
ways would interpret the art, I continued to work. The piece represents a quest
that began years ago, before I can remember. It is about transformation, adaptation,
acceptance, defiance, and finding our way and place in life.
The piece was comprised of three parts. A rectangular wooden structure with
cut up parts from a set of my house plans glued then coated with shellac, measuring
2 1/2 feet wide, by 3 1/4 feet long and 2 1/2 inches deep, designed to be mounted
on a wall is the first component. To the left and right of the work were two
galvanized steel plates, again coated with shellac, each measuring 9 inches
by 11 inches. The third component was a bright red cookbook titled Cooking Without
a Recipe, which was centered and placed directly in front of the piece on a
pedestal. Within the work tumbling over fixed boundaries was a short black halter
dress designed for a party or special occasion. The bottom of the dress was
open exposing the interior while glued on both sides, making it next to impossible
to conceal the firm netting beneath the fabric. Within the structure were several
shelves. On each one rested something different. In the left hand corner there
was an antique Kodak Brownie Camera, dismantled, and filled with sand. To the
right of the camera in another corner at the very top of the piece was a video
camera, also taken apart and filled with sand. Stuffed inside the opening of
dress were two photographs approximately 38 years old of my mother in her prom
dress and the other of my grandmother dressed in pearls holding a Kodak camera
while standing on the beach. Pouring down the center from top to bottom over
the dress is sand. Below the dress is a shelf with five miniature cups, glass,
brown in color, and filled with sand. Zigzagging between the cups is a string
of pearls. Below the pearls is an oblong plexi-glass chamber filled with sand
approximately 2 1/2 high with an abstract painting on the surface directed toward
the viewer.
Creativity is a process that is comforting to me. In the process of making artwork,
initiating thoughts or conversations concerning sensitive personal, political,
and social issues in order to promote a heightened awareness on my part and
for the viewer takes place. Perhaps, a piece may trigger an unresolved issue
or joy in remembering an experience. The possibilities are endless.
My work comes out of a time in history in-between Abstract Expressionism and
the beginning of the post-modern era. During the time immediately after World
War I the Dada art movement was in progress. Artists participating in the movement
were protesting against the war and all it stood for. After the war was over,
European Surrealist art dominated western art. American artists needed something
new and different that could stand on its own against European creativity so
they developed Abstract Expressionism, an art form that focused inward towards
the soul and personality of the artist. Then they began to promote it. In 1940,
American art became fashionable and competed in the international market place
against surrealist works from Europe. Artists such as Jackson Pollock from the
New York School along with his colleagues began to have successful shows of
their own in New York, which was now becoming a cosmopolitan gathering place
for artists from all over the world. In 1950, an American artist named Robert
Rauschenberg introduced an art form closely related to Surrealism and Dada.
Rauschenberg's paintings, collages, objects, and “combines” looked
out into the world. They were recordings of what he saw and experienced.
Simultaneously drawing from many sources, I look inwards towards my personality,
soul, and outwards into the world around me. The way I create a body of work
is very similar to the way I cook. I rarely use a recipe when I cook, and never
when I create. I also collect memories and experiences. My memories are so closely
related to emotion and sight that it becomes impossible to separate optical
facts, such as color, line weight, scale, and texture from personal experience
or memory. Therefore, when I create a piece of art it is a recreation of exactly
what I know to be true. There is always more than meets the eye for both the
viewer and creator. With every brushstroke there is emotion and meaning. I believe
personal experience effects everything we do, say, and feel and that the process
we chose in making art in the end expresses a great deal about who we are. A
square becomes more than a square because of the associations we as humans bring
to it. Even though a reference may not be intentionally inferred it cannot help
but be implicitly implied in the work through the uncontrollable circumstances
that surround the creators and viewers life and their subconscious mind. Process
implies order and meaning. God orders even the most spontaneous moments. In
all of my work, I reach inward towards the self and outward into the world for
subject matter, while partaking in a process that values meaning.
Jackson Pollock engaged the subconscious while searching for a type of truth
he believed came from within him. He would lie a canvas down on the floor, drip
paint onto it, and let the images tumble out as they may. The canvases were
so large while painting he stepped into them in order to work. A good example
of this type of painting is his gestural piece titled Number 1. Commenting about
this work Elizabeth Frank writes,
“Eyesight, however, cannot be so easily divorced from the sense of touch,
and tactility is not limited to the implication of three dimensionality alone.
Pollock's encrusted, puddled, labyrinthine, and web like surfaces are physically,
erotically present, and entice the viewer into a relation in which his body,
and not just his eyesight, directly confronts the abstract field. This relation,
which is at least as close to the experience of architecture as it is to the
tradition of seeing through or "into" an illusionistic painting, can
be deceptive. Sometimes the surface seems to hang as if in infinitely shallow
relief in front of the canvas as in Number 1, 1949, where the effect of "opticality"
is strongest; sometimes it dissolves into immaterial radiance, as in the pinkish
silvery luminescence of Lavender Mist: Number 1, 1950, another "optical”
work” (Frank 71).
In a painting recently completed, I worked subconsciously to create a self-portrait
by cutting way bits of fabric and brushing paint here and there to reveal a
heart shaped opening that was not previously there. Often, I do not intend to
construct meaning or order the creative process, knowing that when a work is
finished my subconscious will have created a new and previously unidentifiable
way of understanding or approaching an issue that I could not have otherwise
imagined. This work on canvas measures 30"x 35" with a black background.
Glued in the center is a rectangular piece of burlap with a heart-shaped cutout.
Approximately 3"on each side remains uncovered, which was painted white,
then partially scraped away to reveal a border. In the center of the heart shape
are gestural brushstrokes of color, dripping, and overlapping one another. On
the burlap are random marks, some white others black. Attached to some of the
marks are burlap threads wound tightly into circles. There is always meaning
in my work, but the meaning may vary and shift depending on how I proceed with
the piece.
I also approach art from an opposite perspective. Often, I am not the author
of the stories I attempt to create in visual form. Robert Rauschenberg works
in a similar way. He once said, "I am a recording instrument... I do not
presume to impose 'story,' 'plot,' or 'continuity' (Fineberg 177). In 1953 when
he attempted to have his work understood and taken seriously in a market place
geared toward Abstract Expressionism, he created a piece titled Erased de Kooning
Drawing. He had considered using one of his own drawings for the project, but
realized that his own work, if erased, "would return to nothing (National
75)” After the then well-known Abstract Expressionist artist Willem de
Kooning agreed to give Rauschenberg a significant sketch; he spent a month erasing
it. He labeled, dated, and framed the work in a gold leaf frame. As Rauschenberg
has subsequently noted, "I was trying both ... to purge myself of my teaching
and at the same time exercise the possibilities so I was doing monochrome no-image
(National 75)."
In 1957 he created Factum 1 and Factum 2, in an effort to prove abstract gestural
marks lacked emotional content (Fineburg 181). Also believing gestural marks
could be duplicated, he investigated the distinction between spontaneity and
accident in making a work of art. After painting Factum 1 and Factor 2 he said,
" I couldn't tell the difference in emotional content between one and the
other (Fineberg 181).”
For the SMP presentation I created Linked, which closely resembles Rauschenberg’s
piece Omen from 1985. Both are heavy steel chains. Rauschenberg’s piece
measures 5 1/2" x 17 3/4" x 5 1/2" and is comprised of two links.
My piece measures 6 3/4" x 17 3/4" x 2" and has four links. Both
are disintegrating pieces of iron, though mine seems to be in a more advance
state of disintegration. Rauschenberg created his piece while in Tibet on a
world tour. Linked is a symbol for my grandmother who is crippled with painful
rumatory arthritis. She has always been a strong person who has held her whole
family together an entire lifetime. Even though her body is frail, her mind
is beautiful and alert. Wrapped around one of the links is a string of pearls,
which adequately represents her peaceful pure, simple, nature.
I bring together one or more objects to recreate a memory, feeling, or story
I have experienced. I like to work with new technical processes such as digital
imaging, and varied surfaces including steel, wood, and plexi-glass. I value
all sorts of materials and readily incorporate them into my work. Objects and
images are individual subjects, which are brought together to make a point.
Robert Rauschenberg’s uses the same method to construct what he calls “combine”
paintings. He created Canyon in 1959. It has a stuffed eagle at the bottom of
the picture plane with its wings reaching outwards. Beneath the bird is a pillow
tied to a perch dangling beneath the picture frame. Functioning as a pictorial
element the eagle appears to be ascending upward. That this is Rauschenberg’s
intention is suggested by three images in the collage that imply ascent: a photograph
of the night sky, a reproduction of a child with a raised arm, and a sky blue
image from a low angle view of the Statue of Liberty. This kind of logic by
contiguity runs through the combine painting. The images are not as a rule designed
to make a point (National 13).
With art there is never a right or wrong way, only what you have felt and experienced.
In the process of creating, editing, revising, and recreating, art becomes a
permanent part of who I am. This in part happens because I am hopeful and persistent,
never willing to give up and generally eager to learn. With a heart that always
remains open, eyes that never shut and ears which are always listening art resides
in a place where broken lonely spaces are replaced with life.
Works Cited
Fineberg, Jonathan. Art Since 1940 Strategies of Being Second Edition. Prentice
hall,
Upper Saddle River, N.J. 2000.
Frank, Elizabeth. Jackson Pollock. Abbeville Press, New York. 1983.
National Collection of Fine Arts. Robert Rauschenberg. Smithsonian Institution,
City of Washington. 1976
Statement | Abstract | Image Gallery | Close Portfolio (and return to SMP index)