Paper Clay (Can also purchase in art supply stores - more money for smaller amount. A lot of recipes on-line.)
Air Dry Porcelain Clay (Again, a lot of recipes on-line)
Processes Paper and Gesso Trace Paper and Gel Medium Paper construction Paper mold Low Cost/Free Materials
Cardboard Clark Appliances, corner of Carerra and US 1 has a surplus of cardboard that they will give you.
Newspaper Can paint it.
Large rolls of craft paper Twist it, roll it, pack it. We usually have rolls in art building. Wood Plenty of scrap wood in the wood shop
Wood Cooking Skewers Can purchase a lot for cheap at grocery store - all sorts of uses.
Wire Need wire cutters and protective eyewear.
Balsa Wood Easy to cut with a utility knife or in wood shop. Sold in art supply stores.
Grocery bags (paper and plastic) Can be twisted for strength.
The following materials require instructor approval: Plaster Must wear face mask, gloves, protective eyewear. Use material outside in designated area. Resin Must wear face mask, gloves, protective eyewear. Use material outside in designated area. Latex Must wear face mask, gloves, protective eyewear. Use material outside in designated area.
World-class chefs and designers worked together as a couple in order to design their own Signature Snack. The question was whether the synergy between the designers and chefs could result in more than just a nicely presented piece of food.
STUFFED QUAIL IN SLOWLY COOKED CLAY
The Signature Snack by Kiki van Eijk and Johan van Groeninge (Avant-Garde) combines both their 'signatures' and serve a stuffed quail in ceramics. This concept has been derived from one of the dishes that the restaurant is famous for: spring chicken in chamotte clay. Of course, designer Kiki van Eijk added her own twist to it by designing the ceramics. When you break open the ceramic, the little quail will appear.
FUSION OF DESIGN AND CATERING INDUSTRIES
Eight designers and eight chefs collaborated as a pair to attain unique products that can be used in restaurants. The designers were inspired by the chefs and vice versa.
MAARTEN BAPTIST / AVANT GARDE STAND
Patron Cuisinier Johan van Groeninge loves to be inspired by beautiful or unusual services. This is why Maarten Baptist designed a silver clamp especially for restaurant Avant Garde with a holder fashioned out of laboratory glass and which literarily adds taste to the food: one drop of an extra ingredient, to go with every bite of food.
Book pages face outward - viewer cannot read title of books.
65,000 Austrian Jews, 1938 - 1945.
Alphabetical order, name of camps around base.
Doors have no doorknobs or hinges.
Resembles a bunker.
The sculpture is a cast of negative space.
Space between us and the books.
Concrete chosen for familiar/common material.
"Given this thematic edge in all her work, it is not surprising that Whiteread was one of nine artists and architects invited to submit proposals for the Vienna Holocaust memorial. Other invitees included the Russian installation artist Ilya Kabakov, Israeli architect Zvi Hecker, and American architect Peter Eisenman. As proposed, Whiteread’s cast of a library turned inside-out measures ten by seven meters, is almost four meters high, and resembles a solid white cube. Its outer surface would consist entirely of the roughly textured negative space next to the edges of book leaves. On the front wall facing onto the square would be a double-wing door, also cast inside out and inaccessible. In its formalization of absence, on the one hand, and of books, on the other, it found an enthusiastic reception among a jury looking for a design that “would combine dignity with reserve and spark an aesthetic dialogue with the past in a place that is replete with history.”16 Despite the jury’s unanimous decision to award Whiteread’s design first place and to begin its realization immediately, the aesthetic dialogue it very successfully sparked in this place so “replete with history” eventually paralyzed the entire memorial process.
This piece was inspired by the concept of mental illnesses and how only the person going through it is the one who truly understands it. Even then, they may not understand what they're going through entirely. A major inspiration for this piece was the book and movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. The fog that the main character deals with and the ambiguous clarity that it lacks intentionally to make you think and try to understand. This piece can resonate with everyone differently. When I began the installation, it was to capture the emotions of a schizophrenic person. After a bit, I began to connect with the work in a different way - as if the eyes were people and watching me. There's a clear distress and uneasy situation going on, but the actual explanation of what is going on is left up to the viewer.
Copious | To be copious is to have excess amounts of something, overflowing. Spilling out, seeping from a container, touching and affecting other things.
Synesthesia is the the production of a sense impression relating to one sense or part of the body by stimulation of another sense or part of the body. The most basic example is seeing letters or numbers in a certain color, or identifying certain sounds with colors as well (low sounds are dark colors, high sounds are light colors). It’s a union of the senses, a sensory overload, a luminous spill of sensation. It’s caused by the limbic system not being governed by the cortex.
Many creatives have this; it allows them to have the ability to create a piece of art that conveys an emotion. It also can act as a sort of mnemonic device, to help aid in remembering an idea, or sparking a thought (sex, tea, cigars, and baths are all historical examples).
Experiencing synesthesia is a very personal thing, and differs from person to person. However, there are daily occurrences of synesthesia in almost every person.
When you walk into a building, you usually experience a change in your mental or emotional state. Entering a church gives this sense of holiness, of grandeur, because of it’s size as well as ornamentation. However, this is a completely different experience than you feel when you walk into a house, particularly your home. Your home is your safe haven, where you feel most like yourself, where you return to to remember who you are. It’s comfortable, and most likely does not leave you with the feeling of divinity.
Physical spaces have an emotional impact on us. The way a space is designed and laid out causes this impression. And that is what I set out to do with this installation: create a physical space that, upon entrance, causes you to feel calm and collected, contained, yet still a part of the world.
The other goal was to draw attention to an architectural feature. The site that the installation was set up in has a wooden beam coming down from the highest point to the corner in this alcove. It seemed the perfect thing to draw attention to, to mimic.
The purpose of the thread is to lead the eye of the viewer to this corner: the eye moves in, and then up. It pulls you in, as numerous lines lead to this point. That is how the viewer ends up being in the space. Once in the space, the numerous angles of the thread create a sort of wall, making the viewer feel enclosed, yet not to the point of being separate from the world. It’s calming, a space to be in when you don’t wan to escape completely.
The physical appearance and experience of the space cause an emotional and mental connection with the viewer, achieving synesthesia.
"These very young women (the overwhelming number are young women) work in ways we don’t even imagine. Their situation is incomparably worse than anything I have tried to understand before. But I seem to be working with people who manage to survive and heal themselves to the point where they can take advantage of my projects to make another leap towards reconnecting with society."
- Krzysztof Wodiczko
Part of a several-months long public art festival on both sides of the Mexican-American border.
Occurred in real time, several evenings, three hours each evening.
500 factories in city (border factories).
Materials shipped in for cheap labor. Shipped out all over world.
Young women provide 90% of this labor.
Female becomes head of household (come with social implications).
Six women from various generations agreed to speak their stories.
Face project on large sphere above crowds.
Voice amplified with speakers.
Stories - domestic and sexual abuse, police violence, exploitation in the work place.
Demonstrates a passage - private confession to public testimony.
Purpose - seeking moral and political change.
Guests Polish Pavilion at the
53rd International Art Exhibition in Venice
The protagonists of Krzysztof Wodiczko's projection in the Polish Pavilion at the 53rd Venice Art Biennial are immigrants, people who, not being 'at home', remain 'eternal guests'. 'Strangers', 'others' are key notions in Wodiczko's artistic practice, be it in the projections, the Vehicles, or the technologically advanced Instruments that enable those who, deprived of rights, remain mute, invisible and nameless to communicate, gain a voice, make a presence in public space.
The projection, created specially for the Biennial, transforms the space of the Polish Pavilion into a place where the viewers watch scenes taking place seemingly outside, behind an illusion of windows, their projection on the pavilion's windowless walls. The individual projections, the images of windows projected onto the pavilion's architecture, open its interior to virtual, but at the same time real, scenes showing immigrants washing windows, taking a rest, talking, waiting for work, exchanging remarks about their tough existential situation, unemployment, problems getting their stay legalised. The slight blurriness of the images reduces the legibility of the scenes taking place behind milky glass. Wodiczko plays with the visibility of immigrants, people who are 'within arm's reach' and, at the same time, 'on the other side', referring us to their ambivalent status, their social invisibility. Both sides experience an inability to overcome the gap separating them. The Biennial visitors are 'guests' here too, of which they are reminded by the images of immigrants trying, from time to time, to peek inside.
The project, dealing with the multicultural problematique of alterity, concerns one of the most burning issues of the contemporary world, globally as well as in the EU, where a discourse of acceptance and legalisation is accompanied by often restrictive immigration policies. The author worked with immigrants based in Poland and Italy, but coming from different countries of the world such as Chechnya, Ukraine, Vietnam, Romania, Sri Lanka, Libya, Bangladesh, Pakistan or Morocco.
In his Venice project, Wodiczko combines the unique experience of his earlier indoor projections, staged in galleries or museums, which opened the otherwise isolated art world to the outside world, with a performative nature of his outdoor projections which allowed participants to animate public buildings with images of their faces or hands and the sounds of their voices.
“Everyone takes away his own meaning.... For me, it is what I think of politics in this election, resembling more and more a crime story. For example, (Republican presidential candidate) George Bush on one hand is for the death penalty and on the other is anti-abortion, on one hand he goes on about “a 1,000 points of light” and on another defends guns and a strong militaristic policy. Media and microphones are also used as weapons.”
Krzysztof Wodiczko in Kara Swisher, “Art off the Wall”, Washington
Post, 26 October 1988.
Curator Phyllis Rosenzweig.
The Homeless Projection Civil War Memorial », 1987
Personnes at Monumenta 2010 in the Grand Palais, Paris
A common denominator in Boltanski’s work is memory – spanning childhood and personal memories, memorials and the history of humanity. The artist made an installation with 30 tons of clothes in memory of all the people who used to wear them, evoking the memory of their disappearance. ‘Personnes’ means both ‘people’ and ‘nobodies’ . The installation was supported by a deafening soundtrack of human heart beats recorded for the artist’s Archives du Coeur project.
Eight minute video.
Great art deserves a pilgrimage. We should travel to see it. Literalists might argue that this can hardly be avoided. But the long winter's journey to Paris is not just a necessity if you want to see Christian Boltanski's momentous new show: it is peculiarly apt. For when you get there, the journey continues.
An icy breeze shivers through the colossal emptiness of the Grand Palais, desolate, bare, its exit signs creaking. The structure rises high above the void, a gigantic birdcage of iron curlicues and struts in which pigeons clatter in hope of a perch. Stretching out before you is nothing but an array of floor-level encampments, each marked out by four rusting poles with a neon tube slung between them. The last light is away in the distance.
Sixty-nine camps, but there are no tents and no living people, only thousands of old clothes lying face down on the floor. Is this where they fell or where they were laid? The irresistible metaphor springs literal in the visitor's mind, as if clothes could have bodies or faces.
You walk, you look, you search for evidence among the mildewed raincoats and threadbare denim. Here is a corduroy jacket, almost new, and a faded gabardine; there is a baby's knitted cardigan. They were young, they were old, they were not ready to die, poor departed souls who leave nothing behind but shucked garments. Mown down, laid out in groups, they have all met a terrible end. This is apparent without a single bloodstain or name; Boltanski's evidence is both more and less than proof.
And as you walk, the sense is of honouring the dead, of trying to observe the details of each and every one. These grouped clothes may represent mass graves, or corpses arrayed for identification in the school gym, but they also constitute a kind of cemetery. For the experience is just the same: that there is nobody here and yet the place is crowded. Personnes, the piece is called: people, but at the same time no one.
The title is as characteristic of Christian Boltanski's art as the work itself, being perfectly judged and distilled. I cannot think of a single piece by this poet-artist that is not equally affecting and concise. It is no surprise that he has long been considered France's greatest living artist but, at 65, Boltanski has surpassed himself. The third in the Monumenta series – comparable with the Unilever Series in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern – is his most profound installation yet.
Boltanski has always been a maker of monuments and memorials. His medium is the human trace and the memento mori. In the 1970s, he used to exhibit the "documents" of his own life, letters, scraps, locks of hair, photographs of himself as a child (which were probably nothing of the sort). Later, he began to commemorate the lives of others.
TheDead Swiss, the Children of Dijon: these world-famous shrines were assembled from photographs cut from obituaries, heaps of secondhand clothes, biscuit tins that might, or might not, contain personal effects; false memories, so to speak, especially since the dead were always anonymous. But these objects and images, no matter their provenance, were inevitably powerful for the sympathetic mind can hardly help but reconstruct a life from the smallest and most trivial of relics.
Pawned brooches, lost umbrellas, dogeared telephone books with their intensely intimate yet resolutely impersonal listings: your mind would rush in, imagining all these other people in other places. It did not matter that the evidence was meagre, partial, perhaps entirely specious, because the objects themselves were real, had once belonged to real livings beings.
That their owners were unknown equated very precisely with the universality of the evidence – a watch, a coat – and the poignant truth that one could only mourn the unknown through an act of the imagination.
This was an art that spoke so clearly and simply that a child could understand it and so it is, to some extent, with Personnes. The austerity of the scene is overwhelming, compounded by the booming heartbeats that seem to emit from nowhere and yet all around – time being measured out by human life.
But what makes this work – this experience – different is that it does not depend upon reality in quite the same way. You do not imagine these clothes to be those of murdered people so much as humanity en masse, flattened like biblical crops. And the metaphor climaxes in a towering mound of clothes, above which a five-fingered claw hangs from a crane, occasionally moving towards the pile, hoisting a random garment and then, just as arbitrarily, letting it drop.
You were in a necropolis, now you are in purgatory: balanced between heaven and hell, witnessing the hand of God. Except, of course, that you are in a freezing, cacophonous place surrounded by secondhand clothes and probably eager to be gone. That is the exceptional achievement of the piece. All its elements are frankly simple and apparent, you see how they combine, how it all works. Yet none of this stifles its resonant truths, that in the midst of life we are in death, that man's inhumanity to man continues beyond Auschwitz, Srebrenica, Rwanda.
Boltanski keeps you there, looking and thinking, walking through the work instead of standing before it like a picture. And then he asks you to record your own heartbeat in a supremely pointless but utopian project. All the world's heartbeats stretching out until the last syllable of recorded time: that should stand against oblivion. Or so it seems, listening to their rhythms filling the Grand Palais – a sound fearful to some, joyful to others, heralding one's release back to life from this premonitory vision. The choice, as in life, is all yours.- Laura Cumming, January 2010, theguardian.com
Résistance, 1993
Cropped photographs from original German mug shots of captured Reistence fighters.
The Haus der Kunst is one of the most important art museums in Germany. The building in Munich’s Prinzregentenstrasse was opened by Adolf Hitler in 1937 amidst substantial fanfare.
Originally dubbed the “House of German Art,” the museum promoted art which reflected the National Socialist understanding of the so-called master race.
The building’s sinister past made it a symbol of the censorship of “degenerate art” as well as the persecution of artists during the Nazi’s reign of terror. In recent years the museum has made concerted efforts to challenge and confront its history.
The Haus der Kunst was constructed by the Nazis in 1937.
