Showing posts with label john perreault. Show all posts
Showing posts with label john perreault. Show all posts

Thursday, June 4, 2009

2008 part three

In this time line I pull quotes to illustrate a thread in popular and scholarly writing and criticism about glass. Here we will see current glass artists defending their art against the accusations and separating themselves from these stereotypes and, hopefully, find out how and where the now-common opinion was born. Fundamentally, the general thesis seems to be born of the question, What Is Art? This question I will leave to others to answer, here I am only documenting the written history of a popular way of thinking and a popular taste.

2008 Seattle Weekly:

"The furnaces inside Viscosity Studio are set at 2000°. Tomoko Yoshitake repeatedly wipes sweat away from her forehead and downs several bottles of water as she works. "Glass is tricky," she says as she grabs a blowtorch and accosts the shapeless material before her. "It's like a relationship. I try my best, but that doesn't mean it's going to work out how I want. I can't control the whole thing."

But sometimes it seems she can. After an hour, she pulls her blowpipe from the fiery inferno, and emerging from the bubbling glass, still glowing orange from the heat, is...a teddy bear. Yoshitake cheers and sticks the creature back in the furnace to sit a little longer. Glass bears like this one are becoming this eccentric artist's most in-demand creation. Her ability to contort molten glass into zoo animals sets her apart from the countless glassblowers who produce (yawn) vases, chandeliers, and candleholders. To get to this point, Yoshitake admits, took years of trial and error. She's burnt herself badly more than once.

But in the process of studying and mastering the art form, Yoshitake also created a genre all her own. The beguiling beauty dresses up in fetishistic fashions and shoots photos of herself posing with her glass objects. Here's Yoshitake in a sexy nurse getup drinking out of a self-created martini glass. Or Yoshitake draped in chains and leather as she bends over a glass flower. The photos double as sellable art in their own right, and ingenious marketing. "Americans like Asians," Yoshitake says with a giggle. "I make sure to take advantage of that."

Most of her projects are inspired by visits to the toy store. And though her work reflects the kawaii (cute) aesthetic so prevalent in J-pop culture, she also wants it to be functional. The glass bubblegum machine she's planning is meant to hold real candy. She wants the goblets she creates to actually be used for drinking.

The latter activity, Yoshitake says, is another weakness she's discovered in Americans, one she took advantage of at the opening of her debut show, "All About Me," in April at Art/Not Terminal. The reception featured burlesque dancers, QFC catering, and...lots of beer. "People stick around if there's a keg of beer to finish," Yoshitake observes. She'll show her newest pieces at a collective exhibit titled "Toy Story" at Gallery 110 next month.—Erika Hobart www.tokyoglassart.com.
Tomoko Yoshitake's Picks: BEST CHEESECAKE: The Confectional in Pike Place Market. “Japanese people are obsessed with sweets,” Yoshitake says. “It took me a long time to find a good cheesecake, but I did. This is the best dessert in Seattle—actually, in King County.” BEST SCONE: Yoshitake orders the apple scone at Hi-Spot Café. “If you eat one, you’ll understand why it’s best,” she promises. BEST POLE DANCING CLASS: Free Movement Zone in the U District. Yoshitake attends this 90 minute class weekly. “It’s a hardcore workout,” she says. “You spend a lot of time strengthening your core muscles so you can climb up a pole.” BEST JAPANESE IMPORT: Daiso. “I buy my fake eyelashes there when I have a photo shoot. They have so much fun and random stuff.”"

Unknown. Date: 2008. Seattle Weekly. "Best Utilitarian Fetish-Modeling Glass Blower Tomoko Yoshitake" Website Accessed June 4, 2009. http://www.seattleweekly.com/bestof/2008/award/best-utilitarian-fetish-modeling-glass-blower-477023/

2008 Hollis Walker:

"
Arnold and Doris Roland first fell for glass art in the mid-1990s at an auction in Santa Fe for a Native American charity. A small piece by Dale Chihuly, the most prominent glass artist in the country, captured their attention. They placed the winning bid—on a work from Chihuly’s basket series, in light blue with a red lip—and took it home, not knowing how it would fit into their existing collection. “We had a houseful of Native American art,” Doris recalls. “But it worked.”

From that serendipitous beginning grew a collection of some 200 pieces of glass, 27 of which the Rolands have loaned to the New Mexico Museum of Art (formerly the Museum of Fine Arts) for Flux: Reflections on Contemporary Glass, an exhibition opening June 7.

At first the brilliance and variety of colors were the medium’s main attraction, Arnold explains. “But as you learn about glass, study it, see what a wonderful variety of shapes the artists are capable of producing in blown and cast glass, how lighting can make a piece look totally different. … It’s a never-ending discovery process.” The couple even went to great expense to retrofit their house’s existing lighting system for the best effect on their collection, which now fills both their Santa Fe and Tucson homes. “You fall in love, you get in trouble,” Doris says sheepishly.

That love affair has also lead to Flux. A few years ago, the couple—by then dedicated glass collectors—approached the NMMA about the possibility of mounting an exhibition of contemporary glass art. Museum director Marsha Bol embraced the idea, which coincided with the institution’s plans to change its name, effectively broadening its mission from a focus on painting and sculpture to include more works in other mediums. The Rolands also offered to fund an endowment that would help finance the show as well as the acquisition, display, and storage of contemporary glass art.

Laura Addison, the museum’s curator of contemporary art, was thrilled. Though she had included fine craft in exhibits in the past, Flux offered a rare opportunity to fully explore a material-based art. Glass was the obvious choice. “Glass art is omnipresent now,” Addison explains. “Everybody is collecting glass.”

The resulting show, on display through September 21, features 50 works, incorporating pieces by world-renowned glass artists including Chihuly, William Morris, the Czech husband-and-wife team of Stanislav Libensky and Joroslava Brychtová, Italian Lino Tagliapietra, and others. Also included are 13 New Mexico artists: Larry Bell, Michelle Cooke, Tammy Garcia, Elodie Holmes, Timothy Horn, Tony Jojola, Charlie Miner, Stacey Neff, Flo Perkins, Mary Shaffer, Judy Tuwaletstiwa, and the husband-and-wife team of Anne Marie Jugnet and Alain Clairet. Most pieces in Flux are on loan from private collectors; besides those of the Rolands, there are numerous works from the collections of Doug Ring and Cindy Miscikowski, and Susan Steinhauser and Daniel Greenberg. Both couples, oddly enough, split their time between Santa Fe and Los Angeles.

Today’s glass craze in the United States has actually been percolating since the development of what is called the “studio glass” movement of the 1960s (so called to distinguish handmade glass art from factory-made glass) and the 1971 opening of the Pilchuck Glass School, cofounded by Chihuly, outside of Seattle. Chihuly’s increasingly high profile and the many fine glass artists produced by Pilchuck and other institutions continued to raise public awareness of glass art. More recent significant events include the 2002 opening of the Tacoma Museum of Glass, with its spectacular pedestrian overpass created by Chihuly; and the Toledo Museum of Art’s 2006 addition of its Glass Pavilion, showcasing a 5,000-object collection. Many more museums are acquiring glass art, too, Addison says.

The movement reached Santa Fe shortly after its inception, through the trickle-down influence of the earliest studio glass artists. Mel Knowles and Jack Miller opened the city’s first “hot shop’’ glass-blowing operation, Canyon Road Studio, in 1968; Peet Robison, who had helped Chihuly build Pilchuck, soon joined the glassblowers there. In the mid-1970s, Chihuly came to visit, recalls artist Charlie Miner, who was also involved at the studio. Impressed with Santa Fe, Chihuly stayed on to help build a glass studio at the Santa Fe Indian School, as well as one in Taos. “The truth is, Chihuly has done more for the glass world than anyone else,” Miner notes.

After learning or honing their skills at Canyon Road Studio, many struck out on their own, like Miner, now of Tesuque Glassworks, who also shows at LewAllen Contemporary; and Elodie Holmes, of Liquid Light Glass and Prairie Dog Glass. “There’s a lot of glass art happening in Santa Fe, and there has been for a long time,” Holmes points out. “But the representation for glass in Santa Fe is a more recent thing.”

A few galleries here have long carried glass, including LewAllen. And until its closure this year, Glory Hole Glassworks, on Canyon Road, exhibited many local artists’ works. But for a long time, most Santa Fe glass artists sold the bulk of their pieces through businesses in other cities. Today the list of area galleries representing glass artists from here and elsewhere is extensive, including Jane Sauer Gallery, Blue Rain Gallery,
Gebert Contemporary, C Gallery, Victoria Price Art & Design, Winterowd Gallery, Wiford Gallery, Manitou Galleries, Arlene Siegel Gallery, Legends, and more.

LewAllen currently represents seven artists who work solely in the medium, like Miner and Lucy Lyon, and a few, including the pioneering feminist artist Judy Chicago, who work with other materials as well. In the five years since owners Kenneth Marvel and Robert Gardner purchased the gallery, they’ve spent a great deal of time following developments in the field and seeking out new artists, according to Gardner. This year they’ve added Steve Klein, Sean Albert, and Ethan Stern to their glass “stable.” “Other than paintings, glass is the fastest-growing category” of art sold, he says. In June, they’ll open an exhibition of glass sculpture by Hiroshi Yamano, a Japanese artist whose works often have fish motifs and incorporate gold and silver leaf.

The heightened awareness of the medium in Santa Fe is due in part to Betsy Ehrenberg, a collector who moved here in September 2004 and was disappointed to find little in the way of glass art on display. Ehrenberg made it her personal, voluntary mission to persuade gallery owners to exhibit more glass art. “I spent six months putting artists and galleries together, showing galleries books on art glass,” she says.

But she went further than that, setting up tours for out-of-town collectors and taking them to artists’ studios, hot shops, and local galleries that carried glass works. True to her expectations, the visitors bought a great deal of art during the tours, reinforcing galleries’ growing interest.

Next Ehrenberg formed a group to do what glass artists here had been able to do only informally: network. The two-year-old New Mexico Glass Alliance includes artists, collectors, gallerists, and others, hosts talks and demonstrations, and brings renowned artists from around the world to Santa Fe to lecture and offer master classes.

Glass making, by necessity, is a collaborative process. Large works require teamwork, and it’s common for artists to help each other and borrow each other’s assistants. Hot-shop owners rent or trade time to those who don’t have shops, which are expensive to build and maintain. “We have a nice camaraderie here,” Holmes says. “Our attitude is ‘the more the merrier, let’s see what you’re doing,’ and we share new techniques and ideas.” Among the beneficiaries of that community spirit are a cadre of young and emerging entrepreneurs.

Meredith Gill works for veteran artist Lucy Lyon in her studio north of Santa Fe. Gill, 25, earned an art degree with a focus on glass at Ohio State University before moving to Santa Fe. She has worked for Lyon, who makes exquisite cast-glass artworks (exhibited locally at LewAllen Contemporary), for about a year. In addition to learning from a master, Gills says, “I get to use her equipment; that’s part of the deal.”

Robert “Spooner” Marcus, of Ohkay Owingeh Pueblo, learned the basics of glass in a factory in Española, followed by a stint with artist Tony Jojola at Taos Glass Arts. Marcus, 33, has since been active in other hot shops in Santa Fe. He makes glass vessels based on the shapes and surface designs of the traditional Pueblo ceramics his mother and grandmother made. Another young artist, Taos Pueblo native Ira Lujan, also blows glass into forms adapted from Pueblo culture, such as the ceramic water canteen. Both show their work at Victoria Price Art & Design.

Marcus and Lujan are the second generation of Native American artists to explore their cultural heritage in this new medium. Preston Singletary, of Seattle, who studied
at Pilchuck in the 1980s, has been transforming Tlingit woodcarving designs into contemporary glass art for nearly two decades, with his blown-glass vessels, masks,
animal figures, and abstract forms in museums throughout the country. In Santa Fe, he is represented by Blue Rain Gallery.

Tammy Garcia, a Santa Clara Pueblo native who also shows at Blue Rain (owned by her husband, Leroy Garcia), has spent the past several years collaborating with Singletary to produce two bodies of glass works. In doing so, Garcia follows in the footsteps of other established artists attracted to this relatively new material. After proving herself as one of the world’s foremost indigenous potters, Garcia added bronze to her repertoire. But her recent explorations of glass offered something neither of her previous mediums could: “Every single piece is a different color,” she explains. “I’m really exploring how it affects the design, and allowing the color to affect the imagery.” She’s also experimented with casting lead crystal and architectural-style panels. “It’s still new to me,” she says. (See blueraingallery.com for a video of Garcia and Singletary in process.) Her exploration has also led the gallery to expand its offerings: Four new glass artists debut work at Blue Rain in July.

The growing enthusiasm has also prompted the opening of at least one new gallery. Judy Youens owned an eponymous gallery in Houston, one of the first contemporary glass galleries in the country, from 1981 until 1998, when she moved to Santa Fe. On July 3, she opens another: Judy Youens Gallery, at 826 Canyon, where she will show glass art and a variety of other mediums. Youens never dreamed she’d be expanding, she says, “but it’s in my blood.”

The event that nudged longtime Santa Fe gallerist Jane Sauer into adding glass to her lineup of artists, primarily focused on redefining fine craft, is emblematic of the still-blossoming appreciation for this medium here. About two years ago, Brent Kee Young, a glass artist and the chairman of the glass department at Cleveland Art Institute, stopped in while on a lecture tour to meet Sauer and show her his work. She was enchanted by his delicate boat form, which was woven of “threads” of glass and glowed in the light flowing in through the building’s French doors. The gallery was full of people that day, including Arnold and Doris Roland, Sauer recalls, and everyone was impressed.

“Arnie took me aside and asked, ‘Do you love this work? And are you going to ask him to join the gallery?’” Sauer recounts. “I said yes.” The Rolands bought the piece on the spot—although they had to wait months, until Young had finished his tour, to claim it. Today, Sauer shows the work of eight glass artists from around the world, and the
medium has come to comprise a significant portion of her sales, she says.

Just as for the Rolands, all it took was one extraordinary piece to make Sauer a convert. And yes, the piece that did the trick—Young’s Matrix Series: Vessel I—will be on display all summer, courtesy of Flux."

Walker, H. "Blown Away." June/July 2008. Santa Fean Magazine. website accessed June 6, 2008. http://santafean.com/Santa-Fean-Magazine/June-July-2008/Blown-Away/

2008 Pilchuck:

"The Pilchuck Glass School board of trustees is thrilled to announce the selection of Arthur Jacobus to serve as the Chief Executive Officer and Executive Director of the school, effective October 27, 2008. Jacobus is an accomplished arts executive with strong ties to the Northwest. He succeeds Executive Director Patricia Watkinson, who retired from the position May 16, and Interim Executive Director Ralph Bufano.

Arthur Jacobus most recently served for three years as president of Copia: The American Center for Wine, Food and the Arts, Napa, CA, and during the previous three years, he served as president of The Kentucky Center for the Performing Arts in Louisville, KY. He distinguished himself as an exemplary leader in the arts as executive director of the San Francisco Ballet. Jacobus led the creation of a strategic plan at the San Francisco Ballet and helped build a $30M endowment that focused on national and international touring. Previous to his position at the San Francisco Ballet he served as president of Pacific Northwest Ballet for nine years. He helped build a strong board there and directly led a successful $13.5M capital campaign and increased corporate sponsorships.

Patricia Wallace, president of Pilchuck Glass School Board of Trustees, welcomes Jacobus warmly; "Arthur is a great leader, he has the perfect combination of experience and knowledge to guide the school. We look forward to working with him as we plan for the future of Pilchuck."

Jacobus feels "honored to have the opportunity to work closely with the Pilchuck community. Pilchuck is lucky to have such an extensive family of artists, donors and supporters who are all directly invested in the future of the school." Jacobus holds masters degrees in Business Administration, Arts Administration, and Human Resources Management, and has completed the University of Washington's Executive Management Program, as well as the Harvard Business School's Strategic Perspectives for Non-Profit Management Program and their program on non-profit governance."

Unknown. "Executive Director Selected." October 9, 2008. website accessed June 7, 2009. http://www.pilchuck.com/information/news_5.shtml

2008 Kathryn Shattuck:

"Summer hadn’t quite arrived in the city over the Memorial Day weekend, but in the garden of the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum, on upper Fifth Avenue, it was several hundred degrees in the shade. Onstage in the Corning Museum GlassLab, four sweat-beaded men in black T-shirts rotated elongated rods — tipped with molten glass hot enough to ignite anything it touched, whether metal, wood or flesh — with the nonchalance of baton twirlers.

Behind them a pyrotechnician stood ready in case the kilns, which turn glass to liquid at 2,100 degrees Fahrenheit, or the reheating furnaces called glory holes, which burn to a volcanic white-orange 2,300 degrees, got unruly. At the stage’s edge the designers Tobias Wong and Tom Scott hovered out of heat and harm’s way, gun glasses shielding their eyes from the occasional ricocheting glass shard.

Armed with inspiration and images, Mr. Wong, whose designs include a chair that lights up as a lamp and a white-rubber chandelier, and Mr. Scott, who fashions knitwear, gave gently precise instructions. After spinning yellow-hot lumps into pliable glass yarn, the craftsmen wove it into braids, chain stitches and, in homage to Central Park and Claes Oldenburg, pretzels. Pretzels with salt, no less.

“A big part of this process was an exploration in boundaries and how far you can push them, and knowing what your restrictions as a designer might be,” Mr. Wong said.

Mr. Scott added: “It was a true collaboration. We gave them a couple of ideas, and they took them to the next level. Who knew you could knit and crochet in glass?”

By the time the Corning GlassLab packs up its two-and-a-half-week visit on June 3, 19 designers will have tested the limits of a material that few of them had previously used, even as the artistic and structural potential of glass is being explored and exploited in fields like architecture and technology.

The GlassLab, a mobile hot-glass studio and offspring of the Corning Museum of Glass in upstate New York, made its debut last December at Design Miami 2007, where artists competed to become involved in the process. For its sojourn in Manhattan, GlassLab and the Cooper-Hewitt invited New York designers in a variety of mediums, including the product designers Harry Allen, and Constantin and Laurene Boym; Francisco Costa of Calvin Klein; the humorously avant-garde Sebastian Errazuriz; the architect Paul Haigh; Chad Phillips of the toymaker Kidrobot; Sigi Moeslinger and Masamichi Udagawa of Antenna Design (MetroCard vending machines, JetBlue check-in kiosks); Ted Muehling (jewelry, porcelain, glassware); and the sculptor Michele Oka Doner. Most had two or more sessions of transforming their concepts into prototypes.

The Corning Museum has long offered public demonstrations at its home base and, since 2001, it has gone on tour, with its Hot Glass Roadshow traveling to places like the Getty Villa in Malibu, Calif., and the Art Basel Miami. Later this year it will set sail on Celebrity cruise ships.

The GlassLab grew out of a three-year-old partnership with the Vitra Design Museum in Weil am Rhein, Germany; the two institutions have collaborated in summer design workshops at Domaine de Boisbuchet in southwestern France.

“The ‘aha moment’ was this magical thing that occurred when we brought the material and the horsepower of hot glass into the design environment and fundamentally let it happen,” said Robert K. Cassetti, the Corning Museum’s senior director of creative services and marketing.

For most designers, he said, “hot glass and the prototyping that can take place with glassblowing is relatively inaccessible. Take the obstacles away, and it can be a very rich creative environment.”

In his sessions at GlassLab, Tim Dubitsky, of the creative agency Li Inc., tried to create three-dimensional typography by cutting out glass with cookie molds and draping it in sheets over metal letters. His most ambitious project was to encase a book in glass, with the caveat that the container would have to be broken for the book to be read. The glass masters created a delicate casing a little more than one-eighth of an inch thick, which they allowed to cool overnight before inserting the book and then sealing up the end.

“It was super lovely — communication without words, like choreography, ” Mr. Dubitsky said of watching the men toil in silent unison. “You could tell they were going into a perfectionist mode.”

The august designer Massimo Vignelli, who worked for the Italian glass firm Venini at the start of his career nearly 50 years ago, arrived with intricate sketches for ribbed Venetian-style vessels.

A clear conical vase was meant to hold Mr. Vignelli’s favorite flower, the peony; a narrow-stemmed cylinder, an orchid.

“I prepared some drawings that apparently look easy but are not so easy,” he said. “Making glass is playing with the light. When you play with the corrugation of glass, you don’t need to add color because the light is adding color.”

Mr. Vignelli was fearless, following the glass masters — Eric Meek, Lewis Olson, Matt Urban and Dan Spitzer — to the kilns and glory holes, and leaning in closely as they silently twirled, shaped, reheated and reshaped the glowing wads until they started resembling what the designer imagined they could. “Glass is really a perfect design of teamwork, a ballet of designer and master,” Mr. Vignelli said.

Mr. Meek, who has been making glass for 15 years, said that the GlassLab collaboration with designers had opened his eyes to fresh possibilities. “It always leads to new and exciting ideas for things you might never think of until someone else leads you there,” he said.

If there’s one thing glassmakers live for, said the Corning Museum’s Mr. Cassetti, a former designer for Steuben, it’s the material’s future. “In Corning, it’s all about what’s next with glass,” he said. “So often you’ll see people talking to the material as they work, saying, ‘O.K., teach me something new today.’ ”

GlassLab continues daily through June 3 at the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum, 2 East 91st Street, Manhattan; (212) 849-8400, cooperhewitt.org.

This article has been revised to reflect the following correction:

Correction: May 30, 2008
An article on Wednesday about the Corning Museum GlassLab, a mobile hot-glass studio, misspelled the name of an Italian glass company that employed the designer Massimo Vignelli, who brought some designs to the GlassLab during its current visit to the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum. It is Venini, not Vanini."

Shattuck, K. "At Cooper-Hewitt, designers teach glass (and themselves) new tricks." May 28, 2005. The New York Times. website accessed June 12, 2009. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/28/arts/design/28glas.html?_r=1&ex=1212638400&en=4fd503442764c9da&ei=5070&emc=eta1

2008 John Perreault:

"
Sometimes subjects and themes just fall into place. I was invited by American Craft Magazine to write a review of the work of Frantisek Vizner (Czech, b.1936), on exhibit at the Corning Museum of Glass in upstate New York. I had been impressed with Vizner's work, and seeing a goodly collection of it I was not disappointed. His severe cast-glass art - vessels in name and form only - are minimalist concentrations of light and color. Although the juxtaposition was not intended, two much larger exhibitions were complementary: "Glass of the Alchemists" (to Jan. 4), because the history of glass and alchemy are intertwined; and a selection of recent acquisitions accompanied by the publication "Contemporary Glass Sculptures and Panels: Selections from the Corning Museum of Glass", because, oddly enough, most of the works represented what Vizner's work is not. As glass abandons the intimate and moves further from the utilitarian, it acts like sculpture, feels like sculpture, and, in some cases, actually is sculpture, turning away from the ambiguity that Vizner's suave work presents.

LOVECRAFT.jpg

H. P. Lovecraft

Cthulhu or Chihuly?

A few weeks later, on our way back from our winter trip to Provincetown, we stopped at Providence, Rhode Island, not to offer our usual homage to boyhood favorite H. P. Lovecraft's beloved native city -- which nowadays doesn't look particularly possessed by ancient visitors from other galaxies or particularly spooky or eldritch, but to see Beth Lipman's installation at the Art Museum of the Rhode Island School of Design.

Lipman's installation is topnotch. But before we go there, some general considerations are in order.

Harvey Littleton is usually credited with jump-starting the studio glass movement, but it was Dale Chihuly at RISD (and then in Seattle) who pushed it over the top. RISD has a new exhibition space inaugurated by a so-so Chihuly show and a related exhibition of works by those many artists he taught or influenced.

Otherwise, the Museum of Art secretly ambles along behind the facades of several historic buildings. Nice for the preservationist in all of us, but difficult for pedestrians to picture what lurks behind the charming facades: Lovecraft's domains of Cthulhu? His realms of Azathoth?

Here I cannot resist the revelation that Lovecraft's Cthulhu prose cycle - concerning the malevolent presence of an ancient, horrific race from another world, hidden among us, in places like Providence, Red Hook (in Brooklyn, New York), or secluded New England forests further north - begins, it would seem, with the feverish "dreams" of young Henry Anthony Wilcox, a sculpture student at the Rhode Island School of Design. The story is called "The Call of Cthulhu," and the "dreams" it turns out are worldwide and seem to be offered selectively, turning sundry dreamers -- not just art students -- raving mad.

Note here that Lovecraft once escaped from Rhode Island and lived for two years in Brooklyn Heights in demonic New York City, where one of his pals was the great American poet Hart Crane. Returning to Providence, parents both in the madhouse, he spent the rest of his life living with two maiden aunts.

Note also how after reading a volume of Lovecraft even a modernist/postmodernist like myself begins to employ longer and longer sentences under the influence of this pulp pioneer who was truly one of the greatest 19th-century writers of tales of terror, second only to Edgar Allan Poe, although he composed his horrific, horror ouevre in the 20th.

I can report, however, that as of my visit two weeks ago, RISD is not currently the entrance to K'n-yan, Yoth, or N'Kar. In the immortal words of H.P., in Providence there can be no "hellish tracks of the living fungi from Yuggoth." I guess. I will also wager that no library in Providence has a copy of the dreaded, madness-inducing Arabic Necronomicon, so central to H.P.'s literary output.

If you want to get a glimpse of this oddball from Rhode Island, check out YouTube HERE for a WPA snippet filmed in 1937, the year of his death.

Reading the Icebox

What really surprised me was one particular display of permanent-collection items housed elsewhere in the museum. Mid-20th-century objects from RISD's extensive permanent collection are now deployed in several rooms with none of the usual department store divisions. Furniture, fashion, jewelry, dinnerware are offered in conjunction with and placed to demand the same level of attention as, for instance, a painting by Jackson Pollock or Mark Rothko. And it all works. Dare we posit something as backward-looking as a "period style" or a congruence of visual forms within particular time-frames? Is there a "trickle down" from painting to clothing? Or is everyone looking at and being influenced by the same things?

This kind of cross-discipline survey is a great setup for teaching, but even the uncoerced can deduce connections among items usually held far apart for fear of intra-categorical contamination or confusion of price-points. The array seems both charmingly old-fashioned and breathtakingly avant-garde: the former, because in ancient times the various arts were so displayed in academies and homes of the well-heeled; the latter, because separate and unequal is generally the rule.

So why the usual rigidity in most other museums? Retrieval devices for image repositories, like slide libraries, required hard categories before digitalization, but now we should be able to search over a multitude of fields. Yet fiefdoms everywhere have hardened. Is this because they are threatened? Try proposing to a museum an exhibition that will require cooperation among its various esoteric departments. It simply will not work. Professionals will risk their jobs rather than loosen territorial control or dilute the prestige of their uncontested expertise.

Another, but perhaps more amusing, theory is that art categories have to do with storage, preservation, and display. Particularly storage. Backstage, paintings need racks, and everything else needs shelves or specially reinforced floors. Fiber art and paintings have the same climate-control requirements. Metal sculpture probably shouldn't be stored next to glass. And metal, which may rust or oxidize, shouldn't be stored within the same humidity parameters required by cloth, paper, or canvas. But specialization has taken command, becoming a rule rather than a tool.

Although a period style is just as much a construct as anything else, it is also an art angle that could be nicely reinstated. I would like full-blown 20th-century "period rooms" like the "period rooms" in the RISD Art Museum's Pendleton House that provided the inspiration for Lipman's remarkable installation in another building, on another floor.

Ice Box.jpg Installation of Windsor chairs, from "Raid the Icebox With Andy Warhol," exhibition at the Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, April 23 - June 30, 1970

Andy's Icebox

Beth Lipman's After You've Gone reminded me of "Raid the Icebox With Andy Warhol," which I saw at Rice University in Houston in 1969. It was Andy at his best: a gigantic readymade consisting of old shoes amassed, chairs on the floor and chairs in the air; everything and nothing. Things broken, things that were fixed, real things and things that were fakes. Everything had been selected from RISD's collection of "decorative arts."

"Decorative arts"? This is a too-fancy and misleading category that some of us prefer to call material culture so that it may include the humble as well as emblems of wealth -- and not exclude meanings, both formal and social. Chairs and guitars, porridge bowls, hat boxes, and chamber pots often have more meanings and tell better stories than ruby-red goblets or paintings.

Hot Glass Comes in Out of the Cold

80_3_12_st.jpg

Alembic. Europe. 18th century? Corning Museum of Glass

There is something ghostly about glass. Something both scientific and weird. A smidgeon of research will turn up too many details about the alchemical pursuit of crystal clarity. I was entertained by "Glass of the Alchemist" at Corning, mentioned above. I learned that alchemy, might be seen as merely the mother of chemistry rather than as an occult discipline of personal/universal transformation. I learned how crystal-clear glass, ruby-red glass (achieved by a smidgeon of gold added to the "metal"), and milk glass were invented in the West; how glass discoveries spread throughout Europe and even to China and Jamestown in the New World. I confess I truly hated the profusion of ruby-glass goblets, but loved the few examples of alchemy instruments - an alembic, two retorts, and what is identified as an oil separator. And then there's the little matter of the glob of gold that was supposedly created by alchemist Johann Bottger in Dresden on March 20, 1713, in the presence of King Augustus II of Poland. Now that's exhibition gold!

As partial closure, here's a quote from the sumptuous catalog:

And hence the most ancient Commentators upon the Sacred Writings have told us, that the whole World, when it shall be destroyed by Fire at the general conflagration, will be turned into Glass." -- Herman Boerhaave, London, 1735.

Glass Today

stilllifesized.jpg

Beth Lipman: Laid Table (Still Life With Metal Pitcher) from 2007. Centerpiece of After You're Gone, 2008.

wallpapersized.jpgBeth Lipman's installation (through Jan. 18, at RISD Museum of Art) is primarily made up of clear glass -- blown and/or hot-sculpted with some monochromatic black and white glass here and there. Lipman is known for her blown-glass still lifes, usually inspired by or echoing real-life paintings. Returning the glassware in the paintings to their three-dimensional, glittery glory, paradoxically makes them less real, but also faintly scary.

Lipman: Wallpaper, blown, lampworked and kiln-formed glass. 2008

Glass like gold has an easy beauty, an unearned beauty. But Lipman transforms the glass act into a class act, offerings meanings as well as glitz.

Prediction: Lipman will be the next artist to leap from the glass world to the art world, like the very clever storyteller Josiah McElheny. Like McElheny, Lipman has not shielded herself from the curse of glass (as many have) by hiring artisans to make her work. The blown glass and instances of cast glass are all her own efforts, but they are in service of concepts far more complicated than what is usually found in glass art coming from the studio-craft movement. In any case, some now claim that Post-World War II phenomenon is over and done with.

Corning curator Tina Oldknow, in her catalog essay for her "Contemporary Glass Sculptures and Panels in The Corning Museum of Glass" has this to say:

In the 2000s glass has increasingly been used as a material for sculpture by artists from outside the glass world as well as by artists form whom glass is a primary material. Glass is intersecting with the world of design and contemporary art in multiple directions, and the American Studio Glass movement as it was defined from the 1960s through the 1980s no longer exists..

These statements, on top of rechristening the American Craft Museum the Museum of Arts and Design --do not bode well for art-world alternatives. But now that pricing will drop across the board for all artworks will there be any need for craft to turn its back on crafts? The craft cult will merely be further purified - having been purged of far too many High Art wannabees - and go underground, again.

In the meantime, we gotta have art, in no matter what form. Even if it is made of glass or grass or linoleum or body fluids. Or marble. Or even paint on canvas.

Beth Lipman's fresh work is a case in point.

setteesized.jpg

Lipman: Settee (After Grinling Gibbons), 2008

.

Who's Going to Miss You?

The centerpiece of Lipman's installation, "After You've Gone," is Laid Table (Still Life With Metal Pitcher) from 2007, which is a profusion of vessels all made of blown glass including the "metal pitcher" of the title. But Lipman has added a jumping squirrel, a sitting squirrel, and lampworked snails on the periphery of vision. But then there are creations inspired directly by the RISD collection and made on site in the school hot-shop, beginning with glass wallpaper. I kid you not. And a glass settee. Meanings proliferate. The spectacular and dangerous double-chair-back settee is based on an early-20th century copy of a 19th-century reproduction of an 18th-century chair that collector/patron Mr. Charles Pendelton thought until his death was "the greatest 18th century English chair in this country."

Still-life paintings are often memento mori. In this case, a whole room is a memento mori. Lipman's After You've Gone is about what we leave behind: piles of drinking glasses, wallpaper, empty picture frames. Art! Ghosts! Glass is usually perceived as glitzy and celebratory; Lipman uncovers the emotions attached to loss and fragility. And of fakery, too.

Like Warhol's surprisingly forlorn "Raid the Icebox" so many decades ago, Lipman's installation points out the stuff - sometimes loveable, sometimes vulgar, always telling - that clutters up the world with fascinating but mostly unintended messages and meanings. Can we see through materialism, or are we possessed by our possessions and afterwards haunted by them? Are we determined by our decor? Isn't there a strange beauty in how we grasp for stability? And how we remember?"


Perreault, J. "Beth Lipman, smart glass and various time warps." Artopia: John Perreault's art diary. exact posting date unknown, 2008. accessed June 17, 2009. http://www.artsjournal.com/artopia/2008/12/beth_lipman_smart_glass_and_va.html


2008 National Endowment for the Arts:


"Pilchuck Glass School
Seattle, WA
$10,000
To support a summer artist residency program. Artists will be provided with resources, facilities, and technical assistance to experiment with new work in glass.


Wheaton Arts and Cultural Center, Inc. (on behalf of Creative Glass Center of America)
Millville, NJ
$20,000
To support a residency program for emerging and mid-career glass artists at the Creative Glass Center of America. Artists will be provided with housing, a stipend, studio facilities, and technical assistance to work in glass."


National Endowment for the Arts FY 2008 Visual Arts Grants. website accessed June 19, 2009. http://www.nea.gov/grants/recent/disciplines/Visualarts/08visual.php?CAT=Access%20to%20Artistic%20Excellence&DIS=Visual%20Arts&TABLE=1


Wednesday, May 27, 2009

2006 part two

In this time line I pull quotes to illustrate a thread in popular and scholarly writing and criticism about glass. Here we will see current glass artists defending their art against the accusations and separating themselves from these stereotypes and, hopefully, find out how and where the now-common opinion was born. Fundamentally, the general thesis seems to be born of the question, What Is Art? This question I will leave to others to answer, here I am only documenting the written history of a popular way of thinking and a popular taste.

2006 National Endowment for the Arts:

"

      Artist in long work gloves shaping hot glass.

Artist Mitchell Gaudet applies the finishing touches to a sculpture in the Museum of Glass hot shop. Photo courtesy of the Museum of Glass


Although glass making might often be thought of more as a craft than an art form, the Museum of Glass, which opened in July 2002, celebrates the contribution glass artists have made to contemporary art. In its three galleries and surrounding outdoor space, the museum presents exhibitions and installations in glass, mixed media with glass, and in other media by internationally recognized artists, bringing in more than 170,000 people annually. The museum also houses the world’s largest hot shop amphitheater, which allows visitors to watch as many renowned and emerging guest artists create their artworks.

In FY 2006, the Museum of Glass received an NEA Access to Artistic Excellence grant of $35,000 for its 2006 Visiting Artist Program in which 20 artists from both the United States and around the world participated in five-day residencies at the museum.

Celebrated Czech artist René Roubícek’s residency from April 12-16 coincided with the exhibition, Czech Glass, 1945 – 1980: Design in an Age of Adversity. During his residency, Roubícek worked with fellow Czech artists Petr Novotny and Jirí Pacinek in the museum’s hot shop, creating bowls and vases, glass clarinets, and 10-foot-tall glass columns. All three artists participated in a panel discussion on their experiences working in the changing Czech political environment.

During another artist residency in August 2006, Mitchell Gaudet created a series of bowls and house forms with shapes, colors, and textures inspired by the ruined areas of New Orleans, his hometown. His personal photographs taken of both the destruction and recovery efforts in New Orleans were displayed on a big screen in the hot shop while he worked."

NEA "NEA Spotlight: Museum of Glass (Takoma [sic], WA)." 2006 Annual Report quoted on NEA website. Accessed June 19, 2009. http://www.nea.gov/features/storiesCMS/story.php?id=2008_02_02

Also supported in 2006 by the NEA were Pilchuck Glass School and Creative Glass Center:

"Pilchuck Glass School
Seattle, WA
$30,000
To support a summer artist residency program. Ten distinguished artists whose medium is not glass will be invited to one of the country's preeminent glassworking facilities.

Wheaton Village, Inc. (on behalf of Creative Glass Center)
Millville, NJ
$15,000
To support a residency program for emerging and mid-career glass artists. Artists will be provided with housing, a stipend, studio facilities, and technical assistance to work in glass."

NEA Visual Arts Grants 2006. accessed June 19, 2009. http://www.nea.gov/grants/recent/disciplines/Visualarts/06visual.html

2006 John Perreault:

"

Kiki Smith: Lilith, 1994. Siliconbronze and glass.

Most art critics and art journalists avoid art issues. The products are described, sometimes adequately, sometimes not. Meanings are avoided, possibly because in most cases there are none. This might have been understandable in a time like the '80s, when art issues almost sank the ship, but nowadays, when the only issue is whether or not the art fairs will kill off Chelsea, we could use a few issues again.

"Kiki Smith: A Gathering, 1980--2005," which originated at the Walker Art Center and is now at the Whitney in New York (through February 11), brings up a lot of issues that some, I fear, would like to forget. That there is more going on in Smith's art than in the luxury products or investment markers now being offered in most galleries drives some people nuts.

Just when you thought all that feminist stuff had disappeared, here it is again. And more. To put it bluntly, does the body as an art topic still have legs? Is sex and gender passé? What do women artists want? What is the relationship of the body to language, to myth? Why are craft materials and craft techniques more or less still forbidden in the art world? What is an oeuvre? A signature style? What is the relationship of biography to photography? Who's image am I? How can pain and fear be expressed in art? Grief?

Also, now that we know that a major influence on Smith has been Nancy Spero, when will we get the Spero survey we deserve? Can we look at Smith through Spero and Spero's Artaud lenses? Dare we compare Smith to Beuys? Or is that like comparing hares and coyotes to wolves? And, in terms of materials, is glass the new fat?

A once-upon-a-time fan -- at least I think he was such -- attacked me at a party by saying that he liked reading me but that I was always solving problems he didn't know he had.

Answer: And now you know you have them, so you had better start thinking.

* * *

Kiki Smith: Tale, 1992. Beeswax, microcrystaline wax, pigment, and papier-mache. Not at Whitney.

Birds Flying Around in Her House

A fellow art critic recently catalogued 34 materials used by Smith in the Whitney show, leaving out glass. How could he ignore glass? I counted 14 pieces made of glass. Invisible glass. Evil glass, I guess. The same writer, glorying in a not very funny paradox, calls Smith a major figure who makes minor art. Is her use of craft materials and methods what makes her minor? I also detect his usual loathing of the political. What else could calling Smith the "leading light of communally minded downtown avant-gardes" mean? Was there something wrong with being against the U.S. Nicaragua incursion or calling attention to AIDS?

One reason Smith is major is that she is fearless when it comes to materials, no matter how despised or humble. And, as the exhibition shows quite clearly, she employs beeswax, glass, clay, fabric and paper toward astoundingly expressive ends. If anyone thinks her work is just about material and form, then he needs his eyes examined. There are reasons for body parts and full-body casts, for representations of body fluids and eventually monsters, myths, and magical beasts.

Three of Smith's most powerful nudes are not included in the survey at the Whitney --- Pee Body, 1992; Untitled (Train), 1993; and Tale, 1992. The first two are made of wax and glass beads. In the first, yellow glass beads clearly represent urine; in the second red ones emerge as menstrual fluid. In her catalog essay "Unholy Postures: Kiki Smith and the Body," art historian Linda Nochlin is particularly enamored, if that's the right word, of Tale, which depicts another naked woman, but with a long tail of excrement coming out of the appropriate opening. It is a shame these sculptures were not included, but obviously there's still enough indelicate material to discombobulate delicate souls. Even empty bottles labeled with the names of various body fluids ---Untitled, 1987, originally shown at MoMA-are enough to disturb.

Some are also strangely offended, it appears, by Smith's high visibility. She was indeed carried aloft as Art Goddess in Francis Alÿs' 2002 art parade from Manhattan to Queens, when part of the MoMA permanent collection was temporarily moved. There is also no denying she is the daughter of Tony Smith, who, by the way, will be seen as one of the great sculptors of our time, along with his daughter.

Smith claims not to have been reacting against her father's clean, clear, abstract, geometric sculptures -- she and her sisters even helped with making the cardboard maquettes, a story everyone repeats -- but instead was influenced by his devotion to art. Wouldn't this unfamilial devotion be annoying to a child? Perhaps she protests too much. She didn't start making art until he had passed on. The sons and daughters of famous fathers or mothers (I've known a few) have a hard go of it; don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Any material or leg-up advantage is cancelled by the hard-act-to-follow syndrome or simply the normal need for approval.

Smith, who never went to Yale, or Rhode Island School of Design, or Columbia Teachers College, or any other art school, never felt the need for a proper studio and to this day blends living and working. And, of course, when required she works at foundries, residencies and workshops. You are not expected to pour your own bronze or blow your own glass. Sewing and drawing is possible at home, as it were, but other forms of making are more specialized, and you need furnaces and people with specialized skills. Minimalism made outsourcing a visible part of its aesthetic. Kiki inherits that, but gives it her own, handmade twist.

If nothing else, one of Kiki Smith's great contributions to art culture is this fact: artists don't need big clean studios. Perhaps we can bury that requirement once and for all. If you can't imagine how an artwork will look in a gallery without an ersatz gallery to see it in, then you shouldn't be looking at art. Too often, dealers, curator, and collectors require the perfect white-walled studio, or they do not take the artist seriously -- even though all it means is a mommy or daddy who can come up with the bucks.

I remember an artist whose work I had followed for years telling me a horror story. He came from a poor background and liked working in a modest, cluttered apartment. In fact, his apartment on the Lower East Side was part of his art. He was able to move to a bigger place in Hell's Kitchen (now called Clinton), but soon it was merely a double-size version of his tinsel-strewn downtown digs. Once, an extremely famous and well-connected curator from Europe paid a visit. He took one look at my friend's amazing workplace and, proclaiming "I cannot look at art in a place like this, you are not a serious artist," marched right out the door.

Alice Neel painted in her living room. So did Hopper.

Kiki Smith, I am told, has birds flying around inside her house.

Kiki Smith: Wolf Girl, 1994. Etching

She Is Our Shaman

As an art-world personage, Smith is indeed strange and dreamy, with her mane of silver hair; but her art is deeper than fashion. What other artist do we know who, since Joseph Beuys, has attempted so much? She is our shaman.

A naked woman stepping out of the body of a dead wolf, as in Rapture of 2001? A hirsute Little Red Riding Hood as in Daughter of 1999? This is not the kind of art you can dismiss as bad form. It is not about formal values. Cross-culturally, shamans get their bodies cut up and they are reborn with a suitable animal guide. Smith has moved from body parts, to whole bodies, to saints and wolves."

Kiki Smith: Rapture, 2001. Bronze

Perreault, J. "Kiki Smith: glass is the new fat." December 4, 2006. Artopia blog. accessed June 19, 2009. http://www.artsjournal.com/artopia/2006/12/kiki_smith_glass_is_the_new_fa.html

2006 Business Wire:

"CHICAGO -- Global Arts Publishing LLC today announced the launch of World Art Glass Quarterly at the Sculpture Objects & Functional Art (SOFA) show. An upscale magazine, it is the only publication to focus solely on architectural and art glass. In the inaugural issue, featured artists include British artist Peter Layton, Savoy Studios, Bernard Katz, Melissa Ayotte, David Ruth, Rich Samsel, and the Tacoma Museum of glass. Upcoming issues will be featuring world famous artists such as Susan Rankin, Rick Satava, George Bucquet, Rick Strini, Steven Lundberg, and Narcissus Quagliata.

The magazine is filled with articles and photos, which allows readers to be immersed in the beauty of glass and the inspirations of the featured artists. The magazine itself is a work of art and something that can be displayed on coffee tables and in reference libraries. World Art Glass Quarterly offers large galleries as well as smaller galleries and artists the opportunity to connect with the world-wide community of collectors, designers, architects, and studios.

"The quality of our Quarterly is unmatched in print quality, photography, writers and layout," said Curt Walton, co-founder and editor-in-chief of Art Glass Quarterly. "It is a world-class publication that showcases the finest glass artists throughout the globe."

World Art Glass Quarterly will be available November 24, 2006 at Borders, Barnes and Noble, and other fine bookstores throughout the United States and the U.K. Cover price is $11.95. For more information or to subscribe to the publication, visit www.artglassquarterly.com."

Unknown. "World Art Glass Quarterly Magazine Focuses Exclusively on Architectural and Art Glass." Business Wire. November 10, 2006.

2006 Regina Hackett:

"Dale Chihuly is the most inventive glass sculptor in the history of the medium, but a massive career and many honors have not insulated him from personal and professional troubles that trail him lately like a bad smell.

A few weeks ago, the bad smell metaphor took material form.

Standing in an ornate garden surrounding a mansion in Medina, this son of a Tacoma meatpacker and union organizer frowned and checked his shoes.

"Did I step in something?" he asked. The garden was lovely, but the stink of fertilizer was overwhelming.

"Pig shit," he said. "Sometimes you can't get away from it."

You wouldn't know it to look at his work. Full of play and dazzling in its high theatrics, his sculptures give voluptuous shape to excess, making it shine.

But at age 64, he's where he never wanted to be, in court. He's suing two glass blowers for copyright infringement, contending they're imitating his work. They're threatening to sue him back, questioning whether Chihuly is the creative intelligence behind the art bearing his signature. And a former dealer is attacking him with a gusto rare in the art world. If that's not enough, his feet hurt.

Emotionally, he has been through the wringer.

Since 2001, a significant number of the people closest to him have died, some without warning. Partially because both his brother and father died in quick succession in his teens, he tends to experience each death as a blow to the body.

Last year he sank into a depression from which he is now recovering. Friends who haven't seen him in many months are being invited over for dinner. Another sign of his recovery: He married Leslie Jackson, his long-term girlfriend (and mother of his 8-year-old son) late last year. In the wedding photo, he's trying on a smile like a cautious man venturing into new land.

Interviewed several times in recent weeks, Chihuly appears to be a fragile version of his old self, but he becomes animated when talking about his work, his young son, the fine BLTs at a nearby diner and the movies. Chihuly loves the movies.

A mark of his distraction is how few he has seen lately.

He used to pop up everywhere in his pastel shirts, paint-splattered shoes and rakish eye patch. Although he travels less now, wherever he goes he's there already, with installations in seemingly numberless art museums and with glass vegetation giving God's handiwork a run for its money in garden conservatories, parks, public pools and aquariums.

That's not counting the tens of thousands of Chihulys resting on tabletops, floating in pools and hanging in brazenly spectacular chandelier form from the ceilings of private homes. Add his splatter paintings and thousands of lithographs, hundreds of picture books, DVDs, posters and notecards churned out by his Seattle publishing arm known as Portland Press, and the man's an industry.

Glass artist Benjamin Moore called Chihuly the most generous person he has ever known: "He's generous with everything, his friendship, his time, his loyalty, everything. But is he difficult? That's putting it mildly."

Bipolar disorder

Starting in his 40s, Chihuly has suffered from bipolar disorder. One glass blower said working for him was like reading tea leaves. "You have to allow for the emotional thing and work around it," he said.

Chihuly said he understands the problem more than he used to. "I thought I couldn't work well when I was down, but then I noticed the work could still be good," he said. "The reverse is true, too."

That means because quality of the art doesn't necessarily relate to the mood swings, he decided to balance them out medically and save his own life.

Glass artist William Morris said it's nice to see Chihuly return to the land of the living. "I was pretty worried about him for a while," he said.

Moore called Chihuly's disease "terrifying and heartbreaking, especially last year, when we didn't know if he'd make it."

Even in Chihuly's bleakest moments, however, the one constant is work.

"Nobody works harder than Dale," said Moore. "I think about the artists I know. They have lives. Dale is Dale all the time, constantly spiraling into his work, 365 days a year. He never makes time for anything but his mania for glass and mania for promoting himself."

Chihuly doesn't agree, quite, but he'll acknowledge that his work is rarely out of his mind. He does laps in his pool, and he's thinking about lighting and installation problems. He's watching his son play, and the shape of the child's arm thrown out reminds his father of the silky reach of glass reeds rising in green ponds.

Each month, his crews turn out Chihulys by the ton. He declined to say how much it costs him to keep his business afloat, but friends speculate it's somewhere between $250,000 and $500,000 each month. That's before he sees a profit and not counting the cost of special projects, which can run to the millions.

Asked if he thought his work ran him, rather than the other way around, he paused.

"There's probably truth in that," he said. "But there's also the thrill of figuring out a new piece or installation and coming up with new ideas. The vocabulary is there, but what I do with it continues to change."

'His own invention'

It takes a village to produce Chihulys, but what happens to the industry of that village when Chihuly's energy fails him? If the sorcerer's gone and the sorcerer's apprentices continue to punch the clock, whose work is it?

"If you're asking if Dale Chihuly is the artist of his own work, the answer is yes, absolutely," said Elizabeth Brown, chief curator at the University of Washington's Henry Art Gallery. "It doesn't matter who fabricates it. He has a complete formal vocabulary that is his own invention."

This issue is of more than aesthetic interest. On the issue of copyright infringement, he's suing several glass blowers who are threatening to sue him back, arguing he can't copyright organic-looking glass.

These suits are not the only issue keeping Chihuly's legal team busy. An art dealer Chihuly fired won't go away. Even after an arbitration that Chihuly won on nearly all counts, the dealer, Doyle LaCount, claimed victory on his Web site, chihulyscrewedme.com, and boasted he's the reason the sun is setting on the Chihuly empire.

The glass blowers heading to court against Chihuly's legal team and the disgruntled former dealer all question whether Chihuly is entitled to claim his work as his own.

What is obvious inside the art world (it's his) may not be so obvious in court. That's why, when asked about it, curators and artists who have worked with him tend to sound as if they're speaking through megaphones.

Brown said once Chihuly approves a series of sculptures, drawings and prints, other people can create them for him. She's "amazed" that anyone could question his authorship after looking at his work.

"It's his without any ifs, ands or buts," said Moore. "I know. I worked for him and know people who still do. No matter what, Dale is always in charge."

Morris met Chihuly at Pilchuck Glass School when Chihuly was already a big deal and Morris was earning money for tuition by driving the Pilchuck truck. He remembers his reaction when he heard the older artist didn't make his own sculptures.

"I was appalled," he said. "I asked myself, 'What kind of f - - king phony is this?' But when I saw him on the floor, I realized how in charge he was. And when I started to blow for him, it was clear I was working on his work. You work for Dale, you tune in to his aesthetic. Everything about Dale is in his art. He's a great self-promoter, and that promotion is his art, too."

Glass sculptor Rich Royal said that Chihuly has figured out a system to allow other people to help create his visions. "Even when he was sick, he knew exactly what was happening with his work."

Throughout art history, artists have used assistants, sometimes liberally, but in the 20th century artists directly challenged the idea that art is more valuable as a hands-on operation.

From Marcel Duchamp to Andy Warhol, Jeff Koons, Lawrence Weiner and Robert Gober, artists say that hands-on production is a choice, not an imperative.

'I liked the view'

Chihuly started out blowing his own glass and might still be if it weren't for a 1976 car accident that left him blind in one eye and lacking depth perception. Another accident that dislocated his shoulder meant he couldn't hold the glass blowing pipe.

"Once I stepped back, I liked the view," he said, seeing the work from more angles and able to anticipate problems faster.

Chihuly patiently explains that he's more choreographer than dancer, more supervisor than participant, more director than actor. And yet, people wonder if he's pulling a fast one.

It's the kind of dilemma Warhol appreciated, just as he appreciated Chihuly. In 1978, Warhol called the young glass sculptor and asked if he wanted to trade artwork.

Chihuly said yes immediately, but on the appointed day he was too busy to go and sent assistant Kate Elliott in his stead, armed with a slumped glass basket in Bubble Wrap.

In return, Warhol gave her a painting of a dollar sign and asked if she wanted to go shopping.

To this day, Chihuly kicks himself for delegating the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Shopping with Andy, that would have been great," said Chihuly.

Like Warhol in many ways, Chihuly likes to own a wide range of the world's consumer goods, but unlike Warhol, he doesn't like to shop for them.

He collects the way he produces art, in volume, buying big collections from other people. He has a depth in Navajo blankets, bird houses, fishing lures, painted chalk figures from Paris, string holders, vintage children's books, toy airplanes, adult canoes, antique bathing suits and musical instruments, especially accordions.

Chihuly didn't start the studio glass movement. Harvey Littleton did in the 1960s in Madison, Wis. But Littleton's work never went anywhere, and Chihuly's made the studio glass movement catch fire.

Littleton proved that glass could be blown in comparatively intimate, non-factory settings. Chihuly proved that a liquid light medium could carry consequence in contemporary art.

Admirers, critics abound

Those who have never taken glass seriously don't admire Chihuly, but he has admirers in high places, including art critics such as Arthur Danto and Donald Kuspit, and artists such as Jeff Koons, David Hockney, Kiki Smith and John Torreano.

In 2001, a solo Chihuly exhibit at London's Victoria and Albert Museum threw English critics into superlative overdrive. "Sensational," said the London Telegraph. The Sunday Times was "blown away," the Evening Standard was "dazzled," and the London Economist found it "breathtaking."

His shows are big draws in the Northwest, but on the ground among the region's artists, bashing him is a popular sport.

What do they have against him? He turned Seattle into the Manhattan of glass art. There are now more glass blowers in Seattle than in Venice. Even though Chihuly doesn't know more than a fraction, he's the reason they're here. More than anyone else, he created the environment that makes their careers possible.

Without him, there would be no Pilchuck Glass School and no Museum of Glass. No artist since Robert Rauschenberg has done more to create art opportunities for others. He was the prime mover behind the scenes at the Hilltop Glass program in Tacoma, which gives at-risk youths a chance to put hot air to practical use, a program copied in Seattle at Pratt Fine Arts Center and elsewhere around the country. He created Seniors Making Art.

He supports more charities than Jimmy Carter. The list of institutions thanking him is nine pages long (single-spaced) and includes museums, art centers, hospitals, schools and health programs, nearly all in this region. Look in vain for this list on his Web site. It isn't there. The master of self-promotion doesn't promote his own good deeds.

In the end, glass is the issue. If you like it, Chihuly's the guy to thank. If you don't, he's the guy to blame.

A recent online interview between Stranger art critic Jen Graves and arts editor Christopher Frizzelle wallowed in the blame game. Frizzelle began by asking, "Dale Chihuly seems sort of creepy. Is he?"

Dodging it by saying she didn't know Chihuly, Graves invited those who share her negative view ("terrible") of his supposedly bulletproof Bridge of Glass in Tacoma to express their displeasure by shooting at it.

With a gun.

Victim of success?

Is Chihuly victimized by the enormous size of his success? Fame casts both spotlight and shadow, and people disappear into their reputations.

Two weeks ago on a blustery day, Chihuly was noticeably limping as he headed for his car. His feet hurt. They've been hurting for more than a decade. Doctors advised surgery, but Chihuly said he's happy he didn't do it, because he knows somebody who went ahead and is now worse.

When Chihuly wants advice, he polls his friends. For him, it's all about his circle. Its members may not have gone to medical school, but they have his back.

The smell of fertilizer Chihuly noticed on his trip to Medina will be gone by the time a private benefit for the Seattle Art Museum's Olympic Sculpture Park opens there in May.

Chihuly will turn the mansion's wide lawn into a stage for his hothouse of blooming glass flowers, reeds and maybe a floral glass tower or two.

He's not getting paid, but he's thinking big.

"Remember Jeff Koons' giant puppy made of flowers?" he asked. "I love that."

He studied the lawn and its slope to Lake Washington.

"I can work with the yard, but we need to extend into the water," he said to his studio manager, Billy O'Neill. "Be sure they know that, Billy. I want the sensation of moving out and floating away."

THE CAREER OF DALE CHIHULY

1960s

1965: Earns bachelor of arts degree in interior design from the University of Washington.

1967: Earns master's degree in sculpture from the University of Wisconsin.

1968: Studies glass in Venice on a Fulbright Fellowship. Earns master of fine arts degree in ceramics from the Rhode Island School of Design. Establishes glass program at the school, teaches there 15 years, flying back and forth from Seattle.

1970s

1971: Establishes Pilchuck Glass School in Stanwood, underwritten by John and Anne Gould Hauberg. Creates "Glass Forest #1" (glass and neon) with Jamie Carpenter, collected by New York's American Craft Museum. Creates with Carpenter "20,000 Pounds of Neon and Ice."

1975: Navajo Blanket Series: The pattern of the blanket painted onto the glass as a second skin. Major museums begin to collect him as a sculptor, outside the decorative art category.

1977: Northwest Coast Basket Series: Chihuly flies in the face of 2,000 years of symmetrical glass art by allowing hot glass to do what it wants to: slump. His baskets were inspired by Northwest coast Indian baskets he'd seen as a child at the Washington History Society and collected by New York's Metropolitan Museum.

1980s

1980: Seaform Series: Ribbed strands of color strengthen thin glass walls. The sculptures look transparent. Chihuly begins to push the scale of his work, asking the hot shop crews to create larger and larger work. Chihuly's drawings begin to be not just blueprints for the actions of his crew, but art in themselves.

1981: Maccia Series: Italian for "marked." He lights all the candles on the cake, using every possible color in the hot shop and orchestrating the results. His "maccia" bowls, on tall stands, become forests.

1986: Persian Series: 12th- to 14th-century glass from the Middle East is the inspiration. Chihuly's line is supple, and his color restrained. Chihuly goes back to his roots as an installation artist and begins to make glass clusters that take over rooms.

1988: Venetian Series: He improvises off a private collection of Italian Art Deco, transforming history into a current event, a decorative style into mainstream sculpture.

1989: Ikebana Series: Japanese flower arrangements through a Chihuly lens.

1990s

1990: Back to Venetians: Allows eccentricity full rein. Over the top and then some.

1991: Niijima Floats: Six-foot spheres soaked in intricate but fresh color.

1992: Chandeliers: The first ones were relatively modest, but by the mid-1990s Chihuly had reinvented the symbol of a bygone era by hanging a ton of glass orbs together from the ceiling and calling them chandeliers. Some look like snakes, some like breasts, and some bristle with floral life, like Jeff Koons' giant flower puppies. Go to any art fair, and you'll see how many artists are making chandeliers in Chihuly's wake.

1995: Global Chihuly: Chihuly and his crews hit the road, working with glass factory workers in Italy, Finland and Ireland to create internationally celebrated installations.

1998: Chihuly gives gamblers in Las Vegas another kind of risk to contemplate with his "Fiori de Como" permanent glass flowers installation in the lobby of the Bellagio Hotel.

1999: Chihuly Jerusalem: 48-foot-tall glass sculpture in the old city, with Palestinian and Israeli crews.

2000s

2001: Back to the Garden: First exhibit in a greenhouse, at Chicago's Garfield Park Conservatory. His blooms amid the garden's blooms drew record crowds and helped revitalize the rundown neighborhood.

2002: Bridge of Glass: An arched span that presents a retrospective of Chihuly's work flanked by a pair of huge, transparent turquoise rocks. They welcome people to Tacoma, the city saved by art.

2003: Mille Flori: For the opening of the new Tacoma Art Museum, "1,000 Flowers." The show dazzled critics and audiences alike.

2005: London's Kew Gardens: In this most traditional of settings, Chihuly packed the place with so much color and derring-do, people applauded spontaneously, day after day."

Hackett, R. "Chihuly victimized by his own success?" The Seattle Post-Intelligencer. April 17, 2006. Website Accessed May 27, 2009. http://www.seattlepi.com/visualart/266953_dalechihuly17.html

2006 John Perreault:

"Notes on a Conference

1. Andrew Wagner, formerly of Dwell, is introduced as the new editor of American Craft Magazine. After 30 years, Lois Moran is retiring.

2. Sculptor Martin Puryear gives the keynote speech. Beforehand, he wonders why he had been asked, but, always a charmer, he handles his assignment well. Did not show one slide of his own work, which may have left some in the audience totally in the dark about why indeed he had been asked. Certainly not just because he has a show coming up at MoMA or, as he confesses, has a guilty hobby of making traditional furniture for his own use. Clearly he has a particular liking for wood and for handwork. Was he invited because he is not afraid to use the word "craft"?

3. Houston Museum of Fine Arts director Peter Marzio offers a lively exposition of the history of the fine arts versus craft in Houston and tells us why craft has become a part of the museum's program. One wishes for similar local histories to flesh out and complicate the subject, which is far too often generalized.

4. Texas-style sauced BBQ and two-step and line-dancing (not by me) at the Houston Center for Contemporary Craft, where sculptor James Surls' excellent exhibition "Finding Balance: Reconciling the Masculine/Feminine in Contemporary Art and Culture" holds forth.

It breaks some rules. Surls himself has work in the show, as does his wife, Charmaine Locke. Plus there's work of two former directors of the Anderson Ranch, at Snowmass, Colorado, where Surls sometimes teaches. (Full disclosure requires me to note that I have taught there, too.)

In the catalogue there's a kind of summary of Leonard Shlain'spopularizing "Sex, Time, and Power: How Women's Sexuality Shaped Human Evolution" by the author himself. Here, since the exhibition is about the relationship between men and women, he omits his gay chapter, wherein one may learn that gay men have a 15% larger corpus callosum than everyone else. The corpus callosum connects left and right hemispheres of the brain, thus suggesting easier traffic between the opposing lobes and less specialization, perhaps explaining the proposed greater creativity of gay men.

And yet the art is on the whole exceptional, the theme (or themes) explored in a complicated way, and the pauses-for-thought unavoidable. Surls was motivated by two factors: he not only has a wife, he is the father of seven daughters, and an Internet search with one of them revealed that most women's organizations worldwide exist mostly toprotect women from men. I say break more rules and certainly let more artists like Surls curate exhibitions. Surls is a shamanistic sculptor who most typically works with found wood in the form of branches and trees and is not usually thought of as a craftsperson. Perhaps it takes a craft venue like the Houston Center to force art out of its rule-abiding box.

5. Glenn Adamson (of the Victoria and Albert) and Edward Cooke (of Yale) use their discussion to announce their new peer-review periodical, The Journal of Modern Craft, forthcoming in 2008 out of Great Britain. Can they rewrite craft history by reexamining what has already been written, but is not acknowledged? Can a peer-review periodical offering academic points to contributors rise above the conformist and the mundane? We certainly hope so.

6. My friend had a great idea. We played hooky late one afternoon to tour some Houston Outsider Art treasures: Cleveland Turner's Flower Man House, Jefferson Davis McKissack's The Orange Show, John Milovisch's Beer Can House and the Art Car Museum. Craft may overlap sculpture, but no one ever points out the craft used in Outsider Art. The spectacular Orange Show, for instance, required woodworking, tiling, metalwork. Is this blind spot because of the Craft World's fear of Folk Art -- although Folk and Outsider are very different -- or because craft, to be Craft, now must be schooled?

7. David McFadden, the bright chief curator of the Museum of the Arts and Design, reveals that institution's opening exhibition in its controversial new site, the former Edward Darrel Stone Gallery of Modern Art at Columbus Circle. The opener will be called "Making It: Materials, Process, Meaning." His point seems to be to avoid both the words "craft" and "design." Although some design objects show up in the slides, most of the objects are craft. So maybe a rose with no name is still a rose.

8. Curator Timothy Anglin Burgard of the Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco shows us how he has successfully integrated selected craft objects from their Sachs Collection into their fine-arts array.

9. Curator James Elaine of the Hammer Museum in L.A is puzzled, like Puryear, by his invitation to speak. The mystery is solved when he shows slides of his award-winning 2005 exhibition, "Thing." Many of the works use craft materials and techniques. By the way, Kristin Morgan's unfired clay, life-size automobile (from "Thing") is, next to works by Josiah McElheney, the most-shown image at the conference. What does this prove?

10. Brett Littman's panel seemed to upset a few people because of a handout called "New Paradigms in Curating Craft and Design: A Manifesto." Littman, that firebrand, is deputy director of P.S. 1 and a self-identified crafts patsy, having worked with me at UrbanGlass in Brooklyn. At this point he has also curated a number of craft and design exhibitions, most notoriously "Civic Matters," a Swedish-American continuous collaboration with no end or end-product. During the Q & A, my anonymous contribution to "The Manifesto" was publicly singled out by one university jeweler as being particularly outrageous: "Change the name of the Museum of Modern Art to the Museum of Modern Art, Craft and Design." Irony, alas, will always fail. (And I had always liked her work!) Perhaps, as now seems to be the fashion, the ACC should also drop "craft" from its name and begin calling itself the American Arts Council. This would please a lot of collectors and, alas, craft artists too.

* * *
The conference, however, can best be judged by what it did not include: no discussion of whether the ACC mission is still valid, no discussion of the use of computers in craft-making, no discussion of the Internet as a salesroom for craft, no discussion of the bland ACC Website, no discussion of how the public can be educated to embrace craft values, no discussion of how to improve the taste level of the craft fairs that give craft such a bad name.

If the ACC mission is to educate, then the mission is in trouble.

If the mission should be to encourage and preserve handmade art that uses traditional craft forms, techniques and materials, then one might wonder if craft-media groups such as G.A.S., S.N.A.G., N.C.E.C.A. are already doing that, plus providing peer-to-peer forums, pep rallies, and technical and career information.

American Craft Magazine is still important because of the possibility of cross-referencing among ceramists, glassworkers, woodworkers, weavers, metalsmiths and the promotion of a common cause. More cross-disciplinary conferences are needed. Twenty years was too long to wait. But why not hold a conference of representatives from all the media groups?

On the other hand, perhaps the American Craft Movement is over. It has been around for over 80 years. Did Cubism or Surrealism or Abstract Expressionism last that long?

Answer: Craft is not an art movement. Craft is a belief system, like art itself."

Perreault, J. Excerpted from blog post: "The Texas Cure: Art and Life part two." Artopia Blog. October 30 2006. accessed June 17, 2009. http://www.artsjournal.com/artopia/2006/10/the_texas_cure_art_and_life_pa.html

2006 John Perreault:

"

How cynical can I be? Is it an accident that not too long after the Edward Broida Collection display at MoMA, which included a whole room of Ken Price ceramic "gloop" works, Matthew Marks Gallery schedules an exhibition of more of the same? Business is business. The Broida gloops are now in the MoMA permanent collection.

The gloops have no openings, so they are not vessels. Cups used to be what Price was famous for, and we loved them for their references and wit. The gloops, except for a giant bronze (at Matthew Marks, 522 West 22nd Street, to Nov. 4), are made of clay that has been painted rather than glazed. They are Arps in color or shiny, speckled ca-ca, outsize Chelsea penthouse poodle poop. The latter association, which makes them funny -- unlike Piero Manzoni's classic canned excrement -- shows that you cannot totally defunk one of the primo California funksters of years gone by.

A big display of Price's previously unexhibited drawings gives the show away. Cups lurk here and there. Also, the openings of previous vessels are compared to vaginas. Anyone who knows ceramics knows that vessels are bodies and their openings are vaginas, anuses, mouths. Oh, what a surprise. That is part of their charm. But I guess sculpture people need to be shown this, graphically.

Discounting the vessel drawings, the stealth tactic works. Price is no longer a ceramic artist. His prices probably reflect this. On the other hand, instead of competing with Peter Voulkos, Robert Arneson, and Ron Nagel, he now has to compete with Tony Smith, Donald Judd, and Richard Serra. How will his gloops hold up?

CanCraft Have Class?

A younger craftsmen, glassblower Josiah McElheny, became a sculptor when he had his first show at Andrea Rosen. He was subsequently in a Whitney Biennial and then ascended to the MoMA permanent collection. As director of UrbanGlass in Brooklyn, I facilitated McElheny's first exhibition in N.Y. in 1994, but that didn't count: the curse of craft, I suppose. The exhibition does not appear on the artist's official biography. But now, McElheny has won a MacArthur Fellowship.

McElheny is indeed extremely talented. Not only is he a master glassblower, he has the brains to marry his skill to narrative-art perspectives and art-about-art points of view. The latter are not new, but the marriage is surprising enough to impress the informed. I wish I could say: call it craft, call it sculpture, a rose by any other name is still a rose.

I used to say, rather sarcastically, that the only difference between craft and art is that you are allowed to handle craft before you buy it -- and, even more important, art costs more.

I gave up trying to convince both crafters and sculptors that the craft/art muddle is a language mistake. It is not a question of art versus craft. Craft is art as much as photography, performance art, painting, et al., are Formulating art versus craft is like proposing fruit versus apples, meat versus ham. If you like oppositions, you should be opposing sculpture and craft. And, of course, we have not addressed the idea of hierarchy, or if there really needs to be one. Some might put craft at the top and conceptual art at the bottom. But are apples better than pears?

Then again, one could say, as former MoMA curator Robert Storr once did at a Glass Art Conference, that craft and art are engaged in different games, so why would MoMA be interested? You could have heard a pin drop. Or a blowpipe.

I myself would rather say that craft artists are competing with a different set of ancestors than sculptors are. A ceramist is competing with George Ohr; a sculptor is competing with David Smith.

The C-Word

As it happens, this week I am off to the American Craft Council's Leadership Conference in Houston, where I am sure the muddle will hold forth, particularly now that there is no American Craft Museum, but instead something called the Museum of Arts and Design (M.A.D.).

Mad, indeed. Just because currently there is a rampant fear of the C-word doesn't mean that craft will go away. I think some artists will continue to make things by hand, referencing utilitarian forms and using craft-based processes, but the word "craft" is now too hard a sell. Are the values associated with the American Craft Movement irrelevant? And if so, why?

In general, these values are:

The preservation and the encouragement of traditional craft techniques and the use of traditional craft materials.
The use of utilitarian forms.
The valorization of the designer and the maker as one.

This does not mean that individual expression and originality are disdained. In fact, within the above brief, they are more difficult than in unfettered and perhaps overtly self-indulgent object-making.

There can be no doubt that most of what is called craft is garbage; but the same can be said for painting or sculpture or photography. One walk through the Washington Square Outdoor Art Show never made anyone give up on painting (although nowadays, one walk through Chelsea might).

Since there is a conservative, mindless, focus-group-generated trend to drop the C-word from the names of museums and even schools, my proposal is that the Museum of Modern Art -- which once operated a craft program for G.I.s; where genius James Prestini, the turned-wood vessel-maker, had a solo exhibition in 1949; which includes George Ohr in its design collection; which now owns work by Kenneth Price and Josiah McElheny -- should seize the opportunity and change its name to the Museum of Modern Art and Craft."

Perreault, J. "Ken Price." October 15, 2006. Artopia blog, excerpted. accessed June 17, 2009. http://www.artsjournal.com/artopia/2006/10/ken_price.html