Showing posts with label leila heller gallery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label leila heller gallery. Show all posts

Friday, April 18, 2014

Steven Naifeh at Mana Contemporary and Leila Heller - sculpture as 'via negativa'?

{{click on images to enlarge}}

The “via negativa” (negative way) is a concept which indicates that you can only really know what God is by knowing what God is not.  By establishing a number of indisputable statements for what God simply cannot be, you begin to develop an intuitive sense of what God really is, although you cannot articulate this awareness directly.

Looking at other reviews of Steven Naifeh’s work, folks point out that he was inspired by Islamic geometrical designs and western abstraction. That’s fine, that’s true and you can win at Jeopardy! with that kind of answer, but I like to try to figure out what folks are trying to convey in their work – to find some kind of meaning for myself.  That’s the challenge of art, isn’t it?  That’s why we should have greater art education programs in our schools – if you wanna get those neurons popping and those dendrites branching, interpreting art is de rigueur. 


So, what is Naifeh potentially doing?  I’d like to focus on one type of Naifeh’s work – the pieces where squares of increasing size create a central empty space surrounded by a type of leaf pattern.  To me, this type of work by Steven Naifeh at Leila Heller and at Mana Contemporary is a type of via negativa.  We can think of the squares as ‘negative statements’ and the empty space as ‘that which can’t be articulated’.  Or we can even say that positive statements can become negative statements when we encounter various aspects of our inner lives/inner realities.  Positive statements often become utterly useless, and therefore negative, in a true process of inner discernment and humane development. When we introspect, and when we try to come to terms with our emotions, motives and cognitive processes, it’s the empty spaces we are looking for, not the categorical ‘true’ statements. 

Scientists are using brain scanners to map every cubic millimeter of the brain’s physiology and they are not telling us much which is useful.  They do not know what morality is or from where it sprang.  They can’t tell us why we believe in moral or spiritual development or whether this is even possible. The meaning that virtually everyone seeks is not touched by science or even acknowledged. They say there’s a ‘god gene’ but they can’t explain, as Dostoyevsky once wrote somewhere, how we came up with the amazing concepts of infinite forgiveness and unconditional love.  Our genes do not point to this, my friend.  Take your ‘god gene’ and stuff it.  Our genes compel us to eat, procreate and compete.  These truths, basically, become baloney sausage when we find the empty spaces that allow us to move beyond what science says we are.  


So I think the key to understanding this stuff by Naifeh is that he uses squares and gets a kind of empty floral or solar pattern using a via negativa approach. So, why squares?

Well, I think the square represents or symbolizes ‘order’. It’s a type of perfection.  It’s also like a brick – it’s something you use to build stuff with.  It’s made of four equal sides and four seems to be a very important symbolic number. There are four seasons, four directions, there were, supposedly, four elements from which everything was made.  Four seems to be a very practical thing, an earthy, real number.  It’s something concrete, something you can touch and build with. Animals have four legs, tables have four legs – four represents stability and strength.


So the coincidence that you can take these building blocks and by arranging them in a certain order you can get a stylized version of the sun is what provides the meaning – by creating a critical mass of these squares you get the negative image of, basically, a solar body – something that is self-generating in its creativity and benevolence.

Why the sun?  Well, the sun is probably the most important religious symbol ever created.  And, speaking of the Middle East, which religion was the predominant religion of that region, until wiped out by an army?  Zoroastrianism, the religion where the sun represented everything good and beneficial to mankind.  The sun provides light and heat and is responsible for the development of all life.  It creates light itself and it is mysteriously self-generating in its heat and warmth.  Solar gods became the chief gods in many pantheons.  Indeed, some folks believe “Jesus” himself, is, basically, a type of solar god.  You know what happens on the 25th of December, don’t you?  Three days after the solstice, after three days of stagnation (death), after the darkest night of the year, the sun begins its ‘rebirth’ in the sky.  Coincidentally, and they don’t tell you this in Sunday school, Horus, Osiris, Mithra and other assorted holy folks were also all born on December 25th. On the solstice the sun seems to ‘die’ and three days later starts to gain strength again.



So we get a visual paradox to approximate an internal paradox.  The more we pile up these bricks the more we begin to value the space these bricks inadvertently create.  Stacking these squares together gives us an empty space that clearly seems to represent the sun. The more we rely on reason and positive statements, the more we realize that we have to go beyond this for real understanding and greater inner meaning and progress. The build-up or placement of the squares is like an elaborate attempt at system building, but the completely constructed system fails magnificently, revealing the truth as an opening or a passage.


Thursday, March 6, 2014

Recent work by Ran Hwang at Leila Heller Gallery (art created with thousands of pins and buttons)



(click on image to enlarge)

To the Japanese samurai, cherry blossoms represented a good death – indeed, the best death.  Like the samurai, the blossoms often fell in the prime of life, exhibiting the full beauty of maximum vitality.  Dying in one’s prime for a meaningful cause was the most wonderful life possible for the samurai.  Cherry blossoms also represent a concept that pervades Japanese art – from the Tale of Genji to the films of Ozu to current anime and manga, there is a ‘mono no aware’ (a feeling of sadness in regard to all things) – basically a visceral awareness that nothing is permanent and that everything decays and dies.  Yet, ‘mono no aware’ can also mean an awakening based on the awareness of the transience of life.


Therefore the acceptance of the symbolism of the cherry blossom can also be a rejection of the Schopenhauer-like pessimism which rejects life.  That there will be an end to our days does not mean our lives cannot be relished and valued.  There is something beyond the basics Schopenhauer stresses: eating, competing and procreating.  And, even if life is a meaningless dream, we can still feel compelled within the dream to pursue meaningful adventures and ends and meet a lack of meaning with a sense of compassion, creativity and humanity.  Cherry blossoms are like the flowers in Leopardi’s poem “La ginestra” – a poem about the fragrant and delicate flowers that literally bloom on the barren and acrid slope of Vesuvius.  In the middle of a barren and violent landscape, these flowers ‘dare’ to bloom.

In Ran Hwang’s ‘The Snowfall of Spiders’ we see that she embraces this symbolism of the cherry blossom. Although she is a Korean-born artist, she has studied and embraced the same type of Zen Buddhism that the samurai embraced.  Hwang’s art is unique, however, because she creates her pieces using thousands of pins, buttons and paper.  So what’s interesting is that she deliberately uses industrially created objects of relative permanence to help approximate the moment when blossoms are in their full bloom.  The use of so many teeny synthetic particles to create a coherent work gives the effect of monotonous, painstaking but dedicated work. It is a type of unbelievably repetitive process which, once one finally stops, yields an immense vision of engaging beauty.

In the catalogue, Eleanor Heartney makes a good point.  The pins, paper and buttons help highlight the Buddhist belief in the illusory nature of the visible world.  The world we see is an illusion – as are these pieces. These are not cherry blossoms, these are thousands of cheap pins and buttons and teeny pieces of paper.  It is fitting, however, that Hwang uses synthetic elements because the concept of permanence that she captures is as artificial as the materials she uses to convey this illusion. The blossoms are in a plastic-induced suspended animation.

Indeed, Hwang also presents images of the Buddha to highlight the fact that the only real permanence is the enlightenment promised by the Buddha, to overcome the illusions of the world and to transcend suffering.

Also featured in this show is an installation which literally shows the passage of time and the birth, death and resurrection, in an endless cycle, of cherry blossoms.  Black spiders play the role of a type of Judas here, as they perform the function of gobbling up the blossoms to set the stage for the next generation of growth.  Basically you have to see these pieces by Hwang to really be impacted by them, so I would encourage you to drop by Leila Heller within the next couple of weeks to experience your own personal sense of ‘mono no aware.’