Material Consciousness

I love the way Richard Sennett discusses metamorphosis and ceramics. It’s true that we’re fascinated with that which we can change; as artists, I think we all understand the allure of utilizing one material to generate something different. Our entire society relies upon such practices; from creating buildings from bricks, concrete, or steel to developing infrastructure like roads in a logical and meaningful pattern. Out of this necessity comes developments in technology and refinement of concept, which eventually births the luxury of choice and the ability to expand upon pure utility to generate objects and systems with layered purposes. The first pots were built in the most efficient way possible, with the pure intent of storing grain or the like, and with time they developed into pictorial objects, capable of engaging social commentary, or even establishing an economy. These conceptual shifts paralleled physical developments such as discoveries about the wheel, firing techniques, and glaze/clay/slip chemistry. 

Looking back on these developments, our knowledge and opinions allow us the 20/20 vision to think of them as “just-so” developments. The physical and conceptual metamorphosis of ceramics seems, to us, entirely logical and almost predestined, as if the coexistence of clay and wheels necessitated the development of wheel throwing as a building process. In making such an assumption, we take for granted the slow and evolutionary developments in the thought process of the craftspeople who preceded us. We forget that the development of this art form wasn’t linear, that there are many places the building process could have gone and still could go. Developing new methods of making objects requires “more engaged states of consciousness” than simply following technological developments in a straightforward procession of building techniques.  

In contemporary craft, we are challenged to participate in an “engaged state of consciousness” as the technology and concepts of our craft change. Advancements in our personal practice, as well as the culture of craft, are never straightforward; it may take weeks, years, or decades for a cognitive snap to occur, facilitating new developments. In Sennett’s words, “put as a principle, ...metamorphosis arouses the mind,” which I suspect is why the development of such ancient processes as wheel throwing continues to fascinate us, and why the craftsperson still plays an important role in modern society. 

reading 3

In the essay, Where What's Done Comes Undone (Is a Museum), Ezra Shales writes about a topic that is often discussed in the world of ceramics, whether or how art is affected when it is placed into the confines of a museum or art gallery. When so much of the beauty of ceramics comes from the ability to handle and touch the object's glaze and clay textures, it is difficult to appreciate work as much when it is placed upon a pedestal, as when it is found in the home. Shales takes this stance, and describes the perks of being able to handle an object as well as the connection it allows you to make to the artwork that a more formal setting could not.

Shales also brings up an interesting point about how people only see the "boutique best of all", or the final pieces of art like a final draft in literature, not the "historical flaw" that lead to the perfect museum piece, and how the flawed piece can give us more insight and understanding to the final piece. We know more about the process in which it was made and we are able to understand the flaws because we aren't perfect either. This reminds me of the "hand of the artist" being left behind. This seems to correlate to the ability to feel the textures and flaws of the clay or glaze. The hand of the artists invites us to touch the same spots they touched and can enable us to share the experience with the artwork and become more connected with it.

Connection is an important thing in art, in the ability to sell it to others but also in expressing ones-self or an idea, and physical connection can be stronger than just the ability to view something. Long after a sight or image disappears, the touch remains in one's memory and on their fingertips. Shales says that, "Our eyes move too fast and don't slow us down," the way that feeling an object can and I agree. The placement of artwork in a museum setting can take away some of the excitement and understanding of a piece, but is a necessary display for realistic viewing. If every museum could allow it's visitors to handle the artwork people would perhaps have a better experience and appreciation for the work but there would also be a lot more accidents and broken ceramics. Perhaps ceramics were meant to be handled, loved,  used "as tools for feasting", and eventually broken as we as humans are, instead of being placed on a pedestal or behind a locked door for most of their lives.

Erin Doherty

Reading 3

In Where What’s Done Comes Undone (Is a Museum), Ezra Shales touches on a pretty widespread trend in the art and craft world, which is a deep seated dissatisfaction with the museum. While the museum surely strips artworks of their original meaning by providing a bare, sterile context in which to view them, I’m sure most of us would agree that viewing art objects in a museum is better than not viewing them at all. They do their job of housing relics, artworks, and communicating ideas about them, but they undeniably change the way we would see them, especially when these objects are ones that are meant to be interacted with. This begs the question of how we might better approach the construction of a museum setting. 

Shales mentions that he prefers settings in which an intrusion is present, where the viewing of art can be accompanied by lively discourse, where the church like reverence and silence can be broken through. These sorts of environments surely make the viewing of art more comfortable and genuine. But while we can all agree that we like to interact with art, that touch is important, and that the museum is too sterile and neutral a backdrop for most art objects, it’s hard to come up with reasonable compromise. Let’s face it, the public can’t be trusted to handle most art objects. If we allowed viewers to pick up functional pottery, how might we ensure that the pots get returned to the pedestal safely? That the viewers don’t chip the lid while admiring a finial? How could we allow viewers to interact with a Ken Price sculpture and trust that they don’t let their children climb all over them and scuff up the surface with their sneakers? 

Shales points out  that this dilemma of how to properly preserve and experience artwork illustrates a human failure --“either our ability to design obsolescence, or behavioral tendency to break things.” It’s important to keep this idea of the lacuna, or the gap, in mind when we design alternative galleries or museum spaces.  

Reading 3

As artists we are especially tactile beings. When I was reading this article I kept thinking about critiques and how the first thing we always do is pick things up and look at the feet or touch the surface of the glaze. The author was saying that the tactile experience of things helps us to understand them in a way that nothing else can and depriving people, artists, of that experience is jeopardizing on multiple levels. There is a part of the article that the author is talking about a friends house and the variety of the art and belongings that they have in their home. He is talking about the lines that define and place art and objects under certain labels, or some artifacts above others, being erased and this allowing him to appreciate these objects of creation. I find this state of mind/observation and experience admirable and refreshing. I was excited that the author talked about the interaction between glazed and exposed parts of the pot, how powerful juxtaposing joined and uncovered parts of a vessel can be.

"Maybe we learn more from our mistakes of touch," I thought this summed up the article pretty well. I thought about this in regards not only to objects that exist as completed works of art in museums but also in the process of creating.

-Dehmie

Reading 3

     In Ezra Shales’ essay “Where What’s Done Comes Undone (is a museum)” he talks about a “participatory authorship” which he feels is missing in the institution of a museum and achieved more readily in places such as flea markets, auctions, and homes.  He talks about his grandmother’s china, which was locked away for its protection not only limiting his admiration of the pieces but also “weakening the development of understanding”.  He was unable to fully understand the pieces in his grandmother’s china cabinet without holding them and using them in a formal ritualistic way in which they are intended. 

     In so many ways I agree with Shales; ceramic objects are so often made for use, they are made to be held and to interact directly with the body, and they do loose something when you can only look.  It is kind of sad that many people never get the experience of holding a hand made ceramic cup, but I appreciate the museums ability to give such a wide spread introduction of art and ceramics. 

     I think that museums have purpose and opportunity in the display of ceramics, which is important, and worth sacrificing the ability to touch.  Museums reach a much wider audience than anyone’s home collection, or even a ceramic gallery has the ability to.  Not very many people have an upstairs neighbor, like Shales did, that will introduce them to ceramics as art; most people will get this education in a museum.  It is also important to recognize the age of most ceramic pieces in a museum.  They usually are historically significant, and have become representations of cultures that are no longer in existence.  I think for this reason, it is important to protect them and ensure that they will be around for future museum goers to view and learn from; and one way we do that is by restricting touch.    

     I think that it is true as Shales said that “our eyes move fast and don’t slow us down quite the way stroking an artifact can induce an attunement in breathing”.  Touch allows us to be more connected with an object and to notice more of its details.  Ideally we could all touch the artifacts in a museum, but as we can not I think it is the museums responsibility to help us slow down our eyes and connect through other strategies than touch. Hopefully the museum will be successful in creating a meaningful relationship between the art and its viewer without touch so that they may continue that relationship with ceramics they encounter outside of the museum.   

Reading 3

In this article, Erza Shales argues that the museum setting is too sterile and formal. His main arguments are that a combination of "Lacuna" and "Aporia" give a piece its meaning and that being able to touch the piece allows for a better understanding of both. I interpret Lacuna as the blanks left by the artist that transfers the artist's message or intent. Aporia I see as the small marks left by creating the object, a window into the past as the historical context in which it was made. With Aporia there is no purposeful message being transmitted and yet there is information. The tone of a work of art can change dramatically when viewed with the historical context in mind. For example, the Jeanne d'Evreux Prayer Book was traditionally interpreted by old white male art historians and as a result the grotesques crowding the illustrations were largely ignored as decorative or humorous. However, when a female art historian looked at the prayer book through Jeanne's eyes, she discovered that the grotesques had a much larger role than initially believed. In this same manner of stepping into another's shoes, Shales wants viewers to step into the artist's shoes by touching the work, and as a result gain greater understanding of the piece's purpose.

WHERE WHAT’S DONE COMES UNDONE (IS A MUSEUM) BY EZRA SHALES

EZRA SHALES

WHERE WHAT’S DONE COMES UNDONE (IS A MUSEUM)

This reading by Ezra Shales, an art historian, curator and artists talks about museums and the need that people have to be able to interact with the art and talk about it and not just walk around it with caution in silence. But not every place is like this, she talks about how other artists and museums have integrated that “hands-on” principle, they have broken away from making a museum a mausoleum. As the author states, “Touching things is important to access them but also to sense the way that some things are impregnable, that materials hold their own riddles worth pondering when they cannot be solved.”

Her very first museum she went to was her upstairs neighbors who lived on the 8^th floor of her parents apartment. She was so fascinated to see so much culture in one place and to be able to touch it, she refers back to her grandma's china set lifelessly behind a glass cabinet, the only thing separating her from being able to touch it was a key. And how with just looking at something we don't really get to learn from the artifact's form or from where it came from. And what about a piece that has worn with age or it was flawed? When touching it many more questions pop up, was it intentional or did it happen over time... countless of questions one may think of when being able to hold an artifact and not just walk past it in its glass shield inside a quiet museum. 

Reading 3

   The article, “Where What’s Done Comes Undone (Is a Museum)”,written by

Ezra Shales, addresses the fact that museums don't allow touching, which makes
them less engaging than they might be.

    Ezra mentions that his first museum experience was in an apartment above

where he lived with his parents.  The neighbors owned and openly displayed

things they collected and liked.  He saw their dishes “as tools for eating, as

well as eye candy”.  He was allowed to hold a Talavera pitcher and Faenza

jug.  Because the pieces were accessible, the environment encouraged his

“appreciation of art”, and discouraged rigid “categorization”. 

    He focuses particularly on two pieces that he examined in that apartment,

a factory “second” from Grueby, and a nineteenth century brick.  Both were

examples of how, through touching, information was derived and questions

were prompted, which created another dialogue regarding flaws.  The flaws

addressed craftsmanship.

   Ezra emphasizes the importance of touch.  Touch brings about a full

experience with an object, as opposed to visual alone.  It brings up

observations and questions regarding the design, applications used,

stresses, imperfections, workmanship, and texture.  Other questions can

pertain to the objects’ place in history, intent, and the creator.  Some questions

have answers, and some do not. What he also points out is that through

touch, there is the risk of breakage, which he acknowledges as the

downfall of touch.  He gives an example of Mexican earthenware plates

that fell to the floor.

   Museums can’t obviously let you touch. The preserved items would

break down through handling. There is also the risk of breakage. What

he lived through was a rich and unusual experience, not at all the norm.

He can’t expect the policy to change.  I think the article is one of

reflection, observation, expression, and reminition.

   I may be critical of museums, but they do preserve the past that we

learn from.  Looking at things from the past is where new ideas are developed,

and inspiration is derived.  Sole visual examination may not be the ideal

way to experience pieces, but preservation of the past is the reason

museums don’t allow touching, and why they aren’t as engaging as they
might be. 

Reading 3, Luke

In this article Shales examines how experiencing an object is fundamentally different when viewed in a museum rather than a home. He says the museum goers are "starved of touch until they get to the gift shop", having been denied any physical interaction with the art. Reading this article I was reminded one of my former Art History teacher Michael Fenton who admitted to being a serial art toucher in museums although he never encouraged us to do the same. Some of the objects that he would touch or have liked to touch were originally intended to be so, such as Meret Oppenheim's cup and saucer made of hair, but over time deemed too important by the museum to get damaged.

I think that it is a natural human curiosity to want to touch and explore things with our hands. I appreciate that museums do not normally allow touching the art because they have a duty to preserve the art and, particularly art like paintings and drawings, would degrade over time. Even so, i think Shales said it best, "Our eyes move too fast and don't slow us down quite the way stroking an artifact can induce an attainment in breathing." I find this true for myself in museums and galleries, walking slowly past art hanging on the walk, occasionally stopping to examine something that intrigued me, but mostly just scanning over the visual information then moving quickly to the next piece. If an object is put in my hand I immediately run my fingers over the surface, finding the edges, feeling the surface and holding the weight. My experience touching an object is so much stronger than a purely visual experience.

 

Reading 3

Ezra Shales, "Where What's Done Comes Undone"

Whenever I think of art collection, it comes to my mind that Qianlong Emperor (r. 1736-1795) in Qing Dynasty seems to set the standard of an official institution of art collecting. Ruling the world’s largest and richest nation, he was known for scholarship and patronage of arts. With a period of prosperity and political stability, he created the most extensive art collection in Chinese history which formed largely the collections of the national palace museums in both Beijing and Taipei. He also compiled numerous records and catalogues of the works in his collection and commissioned compendia of all the great literary works of the time with more than 79,000 volumes that covers all the academic fields of ancient China.

But he was not Chinese, but a foreigner, a Manchu that Chinese called it a barbarian. After the conquest of Ming, Qing emperors adopted Chinese culture and system to rule and win the dynastic legitimacy by becoming patrons of art and sponsoring scholarly projects. Qianlong Emperor became the first Manchu ruler to feel completely at ease with both his Manchu and his Chinese identities and wanted to be perceived as a legitimate universal ruler of the multiethnic empire. His art collection was one of the symbols of his mandate.

Impressed by the Qianlong Emperor’s collection and its political metaphor, I had been interested in more the functions of museum related to national identity and political ambitions than the private level of art collection and its tactile involvement with public. But in my first visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 20 years ago, I was overwhelmed and sad because of the massive scale of collections from all around the world, even though I was supposed to understand what kind of place it is. It seemed to encounter with a modern Qianlong at the city of Roman Empire. So, it has been interesting for me to watch the difference of the viewers’ experience with between the official institutions and private galleries. Limiting the tactile experience with art objects might be a strategy in some places with some kind of objectives.  

 

Reading 3 Spring 2014

In reading Ezra Shales article, "Where What's Done Comes Undone," I think about my own personal experiences in a museum of how Ezra describes the lack of connection and the desire to touch and experience the objects that are barred behind glass. So much of my exhibition and museum experience has been my hands dutifully stuffed in my pockets and my eyes moving and shifting from one piece to another piece without truly digesting what I am truly seeing.

Ezra talks about how in households, pieces are meant to be touched or they are locked in the China cabinet, waiting for that special occasion. You can only experience a piece in how it is presented in a museum or in a home. But you also have to think about how the piece was suppose to be experienced. How did the artist experience the piece while making it? What was the intent or purpose of the piece? Was it to stand their to be gazed upon or to be used? So many of these questions I see are being answered by a variety of contemporary artists on the idea of permanence in a museum or interactive art. I also think performance art is taking on that whole idea as well. It can be video taped and saved for the decades but the true experience is hearing, feeling, and watching the art be performed right infront of your eyes and being etched into memory. So much of art is lost in memory by the fact that we can not engage our other senses that memory requires. We see so many things in our day that walking in a museum, there is no understanding or digesting of the information that lays before us on pedestals, there are just vases or bowls with surface decoration. It is said that a person would not look at a painting or any art piece for more than 30 seconds now a days. If we could touch and experience art, how long would people be engaged for? How much knowledge would one grasp with not just using their eyes?

I find this article very relevant to me because the questions and points Ezra has raised is exactly what I face in the classroom. None of my students can name a contemporary artist or describe a piece of art that they just saw in a museum. I feel that we as artists compete with the technology age and how things are communicated and should be able to grow along and build onto that visual communication to be experienced not in just a visual way but a way that takes viewers from seeing and walking away but to feeling and bringing themselves into the pieces as well.

Reading 3

Ezra starts out by exploring the idea of touch in a gallery/museum setting.  While I like to touch art as much as the next person (and often do when I think no one is looking), there are certain types of art that simply don't lend them selves to touch.  Some pieces are too fragile, and the oil on our skin can do damage to certain kinds of work.  But the idea of a museum in which everything was MEANT to be touched sounds absolutely fantastic.  Especial when it comes to ceramic art.  I will sometime sneak a touch to see what a texture feels like, but if you could pick a piece up to feel its weight and how it sat in your hand, that would be amazing.  We often think of art as limited to being visual, but art that incorporates sound and touch is often so successful. 
I enjoyed Ezras description of the house in which nothing can be touched with the separate room that is unlivable.  Growing up a very close friend of mine had a house like this, we were constantly being herded form place to place by her mother who was scared that we would damage something.  Why in the world would you chose to surround your self with untouchable things, when you could chose comfort and interaction instead? 

Reading 3

            At the beginning of this reading there was a question, “Should a gallery be adjunct to the temple, factory, or department store?”  This question was followed by the author’s opinion that the museum or gallery space should be filled with conversation and interaction, a place where the physical world pushes back.  I thought this was an interesting concept.  It’s something I’ve discussed with others before, but never really considered more than just a brief conversation with peers.        

            I guess I would agree, that museums can sometimes feel constraining and that the viewer is limited by using just sight to understand an artwork, especially when I comes to ceramics.  Ceramics should be a source of comfort and hands on investigation.  Feeling textures and mistakes of the human hand help connect people to an object.  People learn more from mistakes of touch.   

            Ezra also refers to the household as a place where things of diverse origin can interact with each other and with people as they’re used or places about the house.  This is another way of getting people to think of museums or galleries as a more comfortable place of interaction, like a home.  The objects created by an artist are just as personal as some of those found in a home.  A lot of things in the home can be beautiful as well as useful.  This lead me to me own question, “What good is art if we aren’t fully interacting with it?”        

Reading 3, Logan

After reading this shot essay by Ezra Shales, i both agreed with her stance on pottery within the museum setting and the necessity of the hands on experience with in clay, but i also began to think about the hole fine art vs. craft arguments.

She mentions this museum setting, with all its rules and regulations, is taking away from the overall experience individuals should have when confronting ceramics. Yes, i completely agree, but isn't this museum setting with all its rules, how modern society views and deems what is and isn't "Fine Art"? Critiques and artist may have that appreciation but I'm talking about the masses, the people not in the art world, the people that deem art as something on a wall in a museum. To them this tactile, hands on experience may frighten and even scare off individuals interested in that fine art idea. Yes, i think pottery should be used, touched, beat up, and even broken, but thats coming from the mind of a potter. To the outside world "Fine Art " is art on a wall, in a gallery, not to be touched, so what would this do within the world of ceramics. On the one hand ceramics was meant to be interacted with, but on the other hand how will this affect ceramics' place within Fine Art?