But, why must it mean something?

A lengthy writing about a NYT article on Ken Price, a blog post critiquing the NYT article, Price’s work, and why I care.

Photo via NYT

I was excited to find this blog article at Glasstire. It’s about a New York Times article entitled “The Blobs Aren’t Talking,” on ceramic artist Ken Price’s current exhibition.

But why am I excited?

Well, I make objects. And while I spend a lot of time thinking, I am not maniacally intellectual about my object-making. Maniacally visual, moreso. The viewer might not know what I was thinking about or what those questions are. I don’t know if I care if he does know. I do know that I would like the work to stand on its own, to not be dependent upon a wall-mounted placard.*

“Se don’t view artwork for knowledge, but rather experience,” argues Glasstire writer Chris Jagers. Well, that’s encouraging, though I don’t know that it’s true. (Why do you view artwork?)

“If I am anything,” I began a recent essay, “I am a maker of object and experience.” I am quite concerned with experience. It’s something that distinguishes me as an architect, and perhaps as an artist too. Meaning isn’t so important to me: though there may be a story of how something came to be, the seed is merely the origin. There is an object and a viewer and a relationship between the two. I care about that.

In response to the NYT author wondering what the work means, Jagers asks, “Would you ask that question about any work of art?” I was shocked: lots of artists seem to have explanations for what their work means, whereas I don’t have an explanation for what my work means. Jagers continues, “to pretend art is simply a vehicle for some message reduces viewers into passive recipients rather than active experiencers.” What an excellent distinction! It does place upon the artist the burden of intent, and surely many artists intend art as a one-way means of communication. But not this one.

The NYT writer spent some time with Price in his studio. The quotes, surprisingly few, are notable:

In an era when most contemporary artists produce elaborate statements to justify their works’ being and explain the intent, Mr. Price operates in a state of chosen uncertainty. “I don’t really know what I’m going for,” he said with a touch of defiance.

A touch of defiance. I wouldn’t be surprised if Price bristled a bit: I might be a little defiant if continually badgered about what things mean. It does get tiring: I work at a community art center and know a lot of people there. They see me making my work and ask, “what are those? what are they for?” Another comment I enjoy is, “oh, so you’re the one making all those!” (Often followed by one of the questions above). Though the same questions get old, the reactions are a sign that I’m doing something right. There’s no easy, obvious explanation for what I’m doing or the objects I’m making, yet people are drawn to them.

And yet, we humans have a compulsive need to categorize. The NYT author describes Price’s works as “quintessential examples of biomorphic or formless art” and as “blobby and sluglike.” Further indicating descriptive difficulty, the online slideshow is entitled “The Oddball Shapes of Ken Price.” When it comes to writing, Price’s work defies easy definition.

Many of the recent works at his website – gallery here – use cylindrical shapes, curved about, often with half-spherical ends. This calls to mind two more common forms: sausages, and the long balloons used for balloon animals. Among the recent works, pieces like “Kitsy” and “Eeezo” move one away from easy association, thus pushing the viewer into viewing the object as an object. His older works, accessed through the Sculpture and Object page, are still less easily described. The forms speak to gravity acting upon viscous material, and could be described as “fleshy” simply because that’s the closest common analog. This, however, fails to describe the detailed surfaces: one’s understanding of them changes with viewing distance.

Though he avoids concrete statements, Price’s forms and surfaces aren’t random acts of chance: he refines several pieces while spending time with his interviewer. (Whatever Price’s reasons, I can relate to his reticence.) I close with a quote from the NYT article:

[Price] would rather discuss jazz or the Dodgers than his technique or implicit meanings in his work. . . . “What I’m shooting for is for something to look right,” he said with a shrug.

*To be clear about wall-mounted placards: I have nothing against them, but want their place to be supplementary to, not necessary to, enjoyment of my work. I also have nothing against esoterica, like pots best appreciated by potters. If it seems that I just contradicted myself, allow me to compound the apparent contradiction. I recognize that context is crucial to properly understanding all sorts of things (Modern architecture, for example). My own preference is to see something and enjoy my reaction, to not care what the thing is, or who made it, or why. I want these details to only deepen my appreciation, which exists independently of them.

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