Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Cargill Hall at the Minneapolis Public Library
This week, we explored the sparkly modern Minneapolis Central Library in downtown Minneapolis. The Library itself is something to behold, we'll get to that later. On the second level is the Cargill Gallery, which currently houses an interesting little exhibition called The Precious Object.
The Precious Object focuses on the handmade, the DIY crafting, the painstakingly slow and tedious processes of creating something strong and lasting using your hands and some materials. The materials used here vary greatly - from paint and canvas, paper, metal, to snake carcasses, band-aids, and tiny figurines. The overarching theme is the connection between people and objects. These artists use objects to communicate a feeling, tell the story of an experience, replicate a special place. In one way, these become precious objects because of what they represent. In a different way, they are inherently precious objects because of their intimate relationship with their person. The Precious Object is an artistic reflection behind the DIY movement - reconnecting people with the objects in their lives; removing the mass produced and creating the individual and handmade; bringing together the material, production, and product into one person; using one's hands to express creativity and artistry in the everyday objects.
One of the works that really struck me was by Ginny Maki, and created mostly out of felt and thread. From far away, the work looked like a tangled jumble hanging in the air, but on closer inspection, one was able to make out three groupings of buildings, their architectural details embroidered on the felt constructions by dark thread, with tangles and jumbles of thread erupting from various points, all suspended in midair by the same thread. This work is part of Maki's "Small Towns Project." The description at the gallery explained that Maki asked different people from the same small town to draw maps of the town and include and buildings that they have a personal connection with. Maki then translates those maps into the felt-and thread representations. I really liked the idea behind the work, creating a representation of a place based on personal connections and experiences, and setting them up together makes for an interesting comparison. I was able to find certain buildings that were in common in all the different maps, and it was interesting to compare how people were connected to those and the buildings around them. To see some pictures of the Small Towns Project, click here. To read more about Ginny Maki's work in general, click here.
Nearby was another work that I thought was great - the work of Alison Hiltner. Using giant fake flowers, clay, and other mediums, Hiltner gives us a glimpse of what it would be like if big flowers (and small) suddenly sprouted tentacle like legs, erupted from the earth, and started overrunning our world. The result is fantastical half plant, half boundless creature beings, spilling down a column and scurrying across the floor. Her work was impressive to the point that the flowerbeings felt lifelike and real, and I somewhat expected to feel one scuttling across my foot. They brought me joy and wonder. To see images of the work, click here, and to find out more about Alison Hiltner and her other work, click here or here.
The paintings by Margaret Wall-Romana astounded me. Her images depict a natural, botanical fantasy land in soft pastels, but with such amazing detail and lifelike replication that you almost feel a tactile sensation. The plants, flowers, and leaves in her paintings are so true to life, they seem like fresh pressings. Though painted in the soft, bright greens of life, the wilted, brown, withered and dead plants also have center stage. Her paintings have a fantastical side to them as well, the plant life in sharp focus is accented by monumental backgrounds, small pockets of waterfall scenes, and boats made of walnut shells and leaves, which in her statement at the gallery she states as connecting her back to her childhood, when she would race walnut boats with her siblings. To see the paintings, click here and here, and to find out more about her, click here.
Another work that I liked stretches from the gallery space and into the library itself, bounding through glass and above the stacks of books. It is the work of Liz Miller, who takes the spirit of the paper chains of our childhood and brings them to maturity in riots of color, massive spans of paper cut into intricate and overlapping designs, running through a space and doubling back. It is set up in such a way that you can stand somewhat in the work, in between layers of paper, so that your entire vision is filled with them. Doing so, I could see the designs cut into the paper distinctly, and how different colored paper is intwined to create layers of design. I was astounded when considering the amount of time and work it must take to create such massive installations, and what vision one must have to be able to translate a design idea to certain cuts in certain places and come up right. I had a hard enough time cutting snowflakes into folded-up coffee filters as a kid, so hats off to Liz Miller. To see pictures of her work, and for more from her, click here.
In all, The Precious Object is an eclectic and interesting exhibition showcasing the many different ways to express related concepts. There are many more artists in the exhibition, and ARTmn has been recording artist interviews and holding panel discussions, and for more info about all that having to do with The Precious Object, click here or here!
The exhibition itself is held in a small gallery (Cargill Hall) in the Minneapolis Central Library. The library itself is a modern wonder of glass and metal.
The open center area that goes then length of the building and reaches to the very top, combined with a very liberal use of glass, provides an open, flowing feeling.
The library is large, and feels like it is, but the materials used in the construction keep it from being overpowering, and let light shine in all corners. Gone are the days of dark and dusty research, in the Minneapolis Central Library, the sun shines in!
Til next week,
Catherine
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