Love - is anterior to Life -
Posterior - to Death -
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth -
- XXXVII, Emily Dickinson, 1864
(copied with the courtesy of http://www.emilydickinson.it/j0901-0950.html)
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth -
- XXXVII, Emily Dickinson, 1864
(copied with the courtesy of http://www.emilydickinson.it/j0901-0950.html)
Richard Hell "You Make Me" Outtake from photos for his album The Blank Generation
(Click on the link above to see the photo)
(Click on the link above to see the photo)
The preceding juxtaposition is not my own. We can thank Jessica Jackson Hutchins' (b. 1971 in Chicago, IL) recent show "The Exponent of Earth (You Make Me)" at the Derek Eller Gallery in Chelsea for this sublime contrast of classic literature and early punk. When I read a press release (found at http://chelseaartgalleries.com) and discovered that Hutchins had mashed Dickinson with Hell I thought that it was a lame attempt to unite disparate elements (poetry and punk together at last! We get it). I wasn't affected until I actually placed the poem next to the picture and dove in between.
As Dickinson's words ignited a debate in my mind about whether saying "love is all" was more pukingly sentimental or seductively eternal, Hell's open chest wound just knocked me out. So, not only is love all but you give it to me. This unification leaves the "I" incredibly vulnerable and if it wasn't for Hell's punk aesthetic, this bleeding patchwork would be too much to bear. There's just something disarming about a man looking so raw and yet being so exposed (the line "You Make Me" is directly taken from the picture).
And that's just the title. What about Hutchins artwork? How does this riveting name actually relate to the show?
Jessica Jackson Hutchins
Convivium, 2008
table, linen, paper maché and ceramic
52.75 x 56.75 x 53.75 inches
(image used with the courtesy of http://www.derekeller.com)
The following is my account of the exhibition before my knowledge of the origins of the title:
Upon walking into the Derek Eller gallery, I realized that I was being confronted by that pesky "anti-aesthetic" again and this fact usually leads me to the questions, "How could this artwork possibly fail?" and "If it's supposed to be awful, where does that leave a judge?" Hutchins' sculptures are made up of old furniture surmounted by globs of plaster and papier mache along with poorly made ceramic kitchenware that seem like rotten cherries atop melted ice cream.
It wasn't until I saw Convivium (pictured above) that I was granted entry into Hutchins' world. The definition of "convivial" from Merriam-Webster is "relating to, occupied with, or fond of feasting, drinking, and good company." The "um" on the end calls to mind "continuum" which is defined as "a coherent whole characterized as a collection, sequence, or progression of values or elements varying by minute degrees." We can then view Convivium as a collection of the elements of feasting with good company. However, the piece itself is far from jovial. The table is dirty and looks like it was extracted from an abandoned basement where someone was desperately trying to recreate the--at this point--romanticized memory of a family gathering with old pictures of flowers, some bags of plaster, and ceramics made for necessity rather than beauty.
If you're keeping score, we have 1. love is all 2. you give me love 3. I'm in a dark, dirty, soul-crushing, abandoned house trying to build that love for myself with the only stuff I've got. It's sweet in a depressing, post-apocalyptic kind of way.
Thank you, Mrs. Hutchins.
Sincerely,
Matthew Parrish
As Dickinson's words ignited a debate in my mind about whether saying "love is all" was more pukingly sentimental or seductively eternal, Hell's open chest wound just knocked me out. So, not only is love all but you give it to me. This unification leaves the "I" incredibly vulnerable and if it wasn't for Hell's punk aesthetic, this bleeding patchwork would be too much to bear. There's just something disarming about a man looking so raw and yet being so exposed (the line "You Make Me" is directly taken from the picture).
And that's just the title. What about Hutchins artwork? How does this riveting name actually relate to the show?
Jessica Jackson HutchinsConvivium, 2008
table, linen, paper maché and ceramic
52.75 x 56.75 x 53.75 inches
(image used with the courtesy of http://www.derekeller.com)
The following is my account of the exhibition before my knowledge of the origins of the title:
Upon walking into the Derek Eller gallery, I realized that I was being confronted by that pesky "anti-aesthetic" again and this fact usually leads me to the questions, "How could this artwork possibly fail?" and "If it's supposed to be awful, where does that leave a judge?" Hutchins' sculptures are made up of old furniture surmounted by globs of plaster and papier mache along with poorly made ceramic kitchenware that seem like rotten cherries atop melted ice cream.
It wasn't until I saw Convivium (pictured above) that I was granted entry into Hutchins' world. The definition of "convivial" from Merriam-Webster is "relating to, occupied with, or fond of feasting, drinking, and good company." The "um" on the end calls to mind "continuum" which is defined as "a coherent whole characterized as a collection, sequence, or progression of values or elements varying by minute degrees." We can then view Convivium as a collection of the elements of feasting with good company. However, the piece itself is far from jovial. The table is dirty and looks like it was extracted from an abandoned basement where someone was desperately trying to recreate the--at this point--romanticized memory of a family gathering with old pictures of flowers, some bags of plaster, and ceramics made for necessity rather than beauty.
If you're keeping score, we have 1. love is all 2. you give me love 3. I'm in a dark, dirty, soul-crushing, abandoned house trying to build that love for myself with the only stuff I've got. It's sweet in a depressing, post-apocalyptic kind of way.
Thank you, Mrs. Hutchins.
Sincerely,
Matthew Parrish
1 comment:
That is not the cover to BLANK GENERATION, and the website you "credit" did not have permission to print it. We've been trying to reach them to assert the right of the photographer, Roberta Bayley, but the site appears moribund. You can see the actual cover at http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-media/product-gallery/B000005JB1/ref=cm_ciu_pdp_images_0?ie=UTF8&index=0 ... The picture you've illegally used is an outtake from the album sessions. Please remove it from your blog. Thank you.
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