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Since I’ve written “Hypothetical Intentionalism, Interpretation, and Phoebe Washburn”, the Deutsche Guggenheim has released a book concerning Phoebe Washburn’s installation Regulated Fool’s Milk Meadow.
(image taken from amazon.com's product description)
...her [Washburn’s] structures, built from repurposed materials pressed into double duty as farming units, have the potential to point to global concerns and to reference the ingenuity of populations who make do with less than the best.
Avgikos’ third world comment is a social element that I didn’t consider before but it makes sense and falls in line with the string of worldly concerns Washburn’s work calls to mind. It makes sense because Washburn collects detritus and uses it to create new structures. Poverty-stricken nations have no choice but to do so. However, it’s not clear what Avgikos means by using the word “potential.” She could either be saying that Washburn’s works have the potential to conjure “global concerns” in the mind of each viewer or that Washburn’s works show potential for future emphasis in that direction. Either way, Avgikos addresses social consciousness in reaction to Phoebe Washburn’s oeuvre (which makes the comments relevant to Washburn’s intentionality dilemma). Most intriguingly, Avgikos follows this statement up by writing, “Washburn claims only to be influenced by the exigencies of what she terms the “spontaneous architecture” she encounters on the streets of New York.” The word “claims” goes so far to suggest that Avgikos may even believe that Washburn isn’t being entirely truthful about her dismissal of environmental concerns as an influence in her work. These concerns are so strongly embedded in Washburn’s work that when she disregards them, writers question the validity of Washburn’s comments about her own work (a question that is brought up almost universally when I discuss this issue with other artists. It seems most want to entirely dismiss the issue with the comment, "maybe she's lying.")
Avgikos directly addresses the issue of intentionality in the following excerpt:
Despite her own intentionality, the gambit of her work seems readily able to race a continuum from spontaneous street architecture, past what might be called “world architecture”–whether we are thinking about clusters of shelters in Lagos or the Watts Towers in Los Angeles–right up the ladder of success to reference the early work of Frank Gehry and the redesign of his residence in Santa Monica in the late 70's, from an ordinary bungalow to a structure that looks as if it had been haphazardly dismantled and blown back together.
In this specific circumstance, Avgikos is referring to the distinction between Washburn’s said source of inspiration, those of the architecture and state of refuse in New York City, and ones that an architectural historian is aware of. However, the words despite her own intentionality, even if not written directly in reference to green concerns, again show there is a disparity between Washburn’s intentions and her work.
Avgikos brought the focus back to social responsibility when she wrote:
Washburn does not introduce narrative dimensions into the work. There is no advocacy, no moralizing, no prescribing, no message with respect to social situations or dilemmas. Her unique version of what might be seen as “living architecture” derives from formal concerns. In Everyone’s a Giant, an elaborately simple apparatus for growing algae is tucked into the interior of the installation. Does this element reference a potential solution for world hunger? Or is it simply what it is–an experiment in green? What is verifiable, from the perspective of the artist’s intentions, is this: It is the hum and buzz of everyday life at its most mundane and utilitarian levels–what might also be described as life’s most “unscripted moments”– that interest and inspire her.
There are many things to be said about this quote. First of all, the fact that so much focus is put on Washburn’s “intentionality dilemma” in a book put out by the gallery who hosted her exhibition, a book that is listed as co-authored by her, shows the inherent nature of the problem in between Washburn’s intentions and her work. It almost seems that if this problem didn’t come up, the authors would have been purposefully neglecting a crucial element to interpretation of Washburn’s work. Avgikos’ words reinforce what I discovered before, that Washburn’s work is born out of formal instead of environmental concerns and that this distinction is only made through conversing with Washburn. It is not one that can be made from the work since the work seems obviously socially conscious. Avgikos’ words “what is verifiable” strike at the heart of intentionalism. This phrase calls into question every environmental interpretation because Avgikos is (perhaps unknowingly) stating that the only "meaning" that can be proved or “verified” is that which the artist intends. The only meaning that can be concretely ascribed to the work is the one that Washburn concedes. And that meaning, in the case of Everyone’s a Giant, is inspired by “the hum and buzz of everyday life at its most mundane...” Is meaning only proven when it is verified by the artist? This comment is wholly absolute intentionalist in nature and I disagree. The fact that the appropriate audience of Washburn’s work generally ascribes a meaning to it that is different from that which Washburn claims shows that there are multiple meanings, or, more correctly, multiple interpretations that are not entirely restricted to Washburn’s intentions.
There is an elephant in the room and that is the question: Is there even a problem here? Can’t Washburn’s intentions and her work meaning coexist as interrelated but not entirely the same? Can’t we just say that her work has transcended her intentions in eliciting global concerns and leave it at that? It would be easy to write off if the issue didn’t recur every time Washburn is questioned about her work. In Regulated Fool’s Milk Meadow, Joan Young interviews Phoebe Washburn. In this interview, even though Avgikos has already discussed the environmental dilemma in her essay, Young asked, “You collect a lot of materials and scrap wood from the street, and incorporate previously used materials in your work. Does this practice of recycling grow out of environmental concerns?” Washburn replied:
I think it’s born out of something much more basic, like just being greedy and lazy. I don’t collect and reuse these materials in an effort to make some sort of political or social statement. I, early on, found it very satisfying to collect materials–before it was cardboard and newspaper and now for a while it has been wood. There is always something out there to find, and it is free for the taking and if you don’t pick it up now it will most likely be gone later.
This response is extremely similar to the one she gave at the lecture I attended down to her use of the words “greedy and lazy.” Obviously, Washburn employs these words because they are the antithesis of the environmentalist code. It’s her way of absolutely distancing herself from the activist label. But this consistent response is sending a message contradictory to her work. Sure, one could possibly argue that viewers are projecting too much into her work. Maybe we want it so bad to be an environmental commentary that we add more weight to the work than is actually there. But I don’t think so and that assertion is backed up by the recurring appearance of the problem. If there wasn’t a conflict between Washburn’s work meaning and her intentions than it wouldn’t keep coming up. Honigman, the University of the Arts students, Avgikos, and Young--amongst others–have all had the same question: Is your work an environmental commentary? And Washburn has adamantly replied: No.
Does this conclusion diminish Washburn’s work? Not in my eyes. I’m a huge fan of Washburn’s work because of its use of common materials to create awe-inspiring structures that give different experiences for as many angles as they can be viewed from. I enjoy the juxtaposition of their extravagant complexity and their inherent fallibility and uselessness. Regulated Fool’s Milk Meadow (the work) feels like a visual playground that is at the same time common and wondrous. So, does that mean that the contradiction between Washburn’s intentions and her work, in the end, doesn’t matter? Has all this philosophizing about intentions come to nothing because I’m going to continue appreciating her work despite the problem? It seems like galleries are going the same route. Washburn is having shows all over the world in spite of or in ignorance of this inherent disparity. The consequence of this result in terms of intentionalism is the last one I wanted to come upon: anti-intentionalism. If Washburn’s work is successful and inspiring, the fact that her intentions differ from her work’s meaning does not matter. The appropriate audience's environmentally-centered interpretation and Washburn's contrary intentions can coexist.
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This post is my final one on Phoebe Washburn. Thank you all for reading. See you soon!
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