Dream Visits
“Errggghhh….uuuunnnffff,” she
groaned, as he relentlessly walked up her back. He began licking her scalp and
hair with his semi-salivated and perpetually scratchy tongue, his cat breath
operating in full-force. As one can imagine, this could only be one of the most
pleasant sensations at 5:30 in the morning; it had now become their ritual.
“mmmffff….Fine… I’ll get up…” she
mumbled, stumbling with eyes hardly open out to the kitchen to feed the little nuisance.
After a quick drink of much needed water and a trip to the bathroom, she
plopped back in bed, now with eyes wide awake.
It was
remarkable how rapidly she could gather her thoughts early in the morning; she
had always been a light sleeper. She didn’t mind however, for her bed had
always been a sacred place for her. Not in the sense of chastity, she thought,
as she warmly glanced over to see her partner rolled over on his usual side.
No, it’s sacred to her in the sense that it has always been the place where she
is able to accomplish some of her most productive thinking and reflection, two
things in life she considers essential. The best times for her to do these are
either late at night, in the decompressing moments before she falls into sleep,
or first thing in the morning, when her mind is fresh and the obligations of
the day are yet to be fulfilled. She relishes in these fleeting moments of
transition, when her body is still and the wheels of her mind are in momentum.
And while relishing and plotting
the course of her day, suddenly, her eyes widen.
“What an incredible dream!” she
thought excitedly to herself. The most vivid dream, the sensation of which had
waned only temporarily, had resurfaced, and was now there for her to reflect
upon. She closed her eyes, and began to remember…
She is at the university she
attends in the ceramics studio, another place in her life she considers to be sacred,
a much needed second home. Her table in the studio is a space that she has
earned through a couple years of hard work and dedication, and is where she can
often be found. Above her table, on the ledge below the gigantic single-paned
windows that allow in light but also the cold and troublesome winter air, are
four of her ceramic figures, three with completed surfaces and one in need of
some paint.
“Jeez, I dream of this place all
the time…probably because I spend way too much time in here,” she thought.
Currently she is working on her newest ceramic
figure. Although it is her favorite piece she’s made so far, never before has
she encountered so many problems and set-backs. “One step forward, two steps
back” seems to be the name of the game for this piece, and all the resulting
irritation and grief have proven to be perfect material for her dreams. She reminds
herself that clay is a time-sensitive medium, and although she feels she
possesses somewhat of a mastery over the clay, time and its nuances are
something she will never be in complete control of.
Hard at work, her attention is
focused completely on her hand movements and the figure (which she refers to as
one of her “girls”) in progress in front of her. After a few moments of
absolute concentration, her eyes pan upward and widen as she stiffens in
surprise, realizing that someone else has made their way into the studio. This
happens often, and she can’t figure out why she rarely hears people coming in
the room; she is told she’s rather skittish, but she knows it’s because she’s
absorbed in her practice.
Yet, this stranger walking
observantly around the room is different…it’s someone she recognizes but is
someone she’s never met. After a few brief moments of studying his face, it
dawns on her.
“Walt…Walter Benjamin?!” she
exclaims with a tinge of familiarity. “What…what in the world brings you…here?”
His face was stoic, his eyes
pensive and beaming, like he would know the answer to any possible question. He
continued to pace about the studio unnervingly slow.
Voice shaking, she nervously tries
to make conversation. Questioning people has always been a difficult thing for
her to do, although she was fabulous at small-talk. “You know Walter, I’m a
huge fan of your work…you know, Art in
the Age of Mechanical Reproduction… you know, all that stuff about the aura
of a work of art and how technology will always continue to alter and even
define our consideration of art…”
Walter stopped pacing, thankfully,
and took a seat on a nearby stool close to her table. She put down her tools
and took a seat as well, with all her nervous attention now focused on this
man.
“You have, have you? Must you
realize that much of that essay had to do with the technology of photography
and especially film, and how they radically changed the world of art?” he
questioned.
“Oh definitely! I especially responded
to your observation that when a work of art is photographed and reproduced,
nearly everything concerning the work of art is challenged: its context inevitably
changes and its existence in a fixed time and space is multiplied to encompass
an existence in numerous times and numerous spaces, now with multiple meanings;
the act, which you consider to be ritualistic, of making a pilgrimage to see
the work of art may no longer be necessary due to the convenience of having a
photographic representation of an artwork instead…I think you illustrated this
by saying something like, 'we can now meet the work of art halfway?'" While lying in her bed remembering this, she was
surprised this use of her words; usually it was difficult for her to reiterate
things without becoming scatter-brained.
“Yes, I think I did say that, but I
was not referencing just any work of art, correct? Didn’t I say, 'it enables
the original to meet the beholder
halfway?'(Benjamin).
“Yes! Yes, the original work of art…which is what I found to be the most
compelling aspect of your essay. The unique work of art existing in its
respectively unique location…the aura of
the unique work of art! This is something I think about consistently, since I
work sculpturally. My work is tangible and has a physical presence…it’s meant
to be seen in person in its entire aura. Speaking of which, since you’re here
in person, would you mind looking at some of my work? Like this one here, what
do you think of her anatomy? ” She was becoming excited.
Walter sighed disappointingly. “Things like anatomical accuracy do not interest me. I am more
interested in what you have just referenced, about the aura you believe your
work possesses. Do any photographic reproductions
of your sculptures exist?”
“Well, yes…”
“So the bigger questions here are
for you to answer. You’re the artist
here. What I’m wondering is, how do these photographic representations of your
artwork change the actual artwork? Is the aura threatened? Or are the
representations beneficial to the artwork? To you as an artist? How does having
these representations change the perception of your work by others? Why exactly
are you making art that you prefer be seen in person? Wouldn’t it be more
beneficial for you in this day and age to create work that could more easily
reach the masses without them having to come and see your work in a specific
location?”
She was
nearly in shock. Who did he think he was, coming into her studio space, pulling
the rug out from under her and bombarding her? She almost regretted making
conversation with him in the first place. Yet, she also felt a sense of relief
for finally being asked these challenging questions. She took a deep breath,
hoping that her mouth would be able to verbalize all that her mind now had to
say.
“Ok Walter, one question at a time here. I
believe that these photos do have the ability to threaten or misplace the aura
of my work, something I see as an important element of my work, but not to the
extent that I will stop photographing my work.
I also believe that these photos
definitely have the ability to be beneficial to my work and to myself as an
artist. Today so much information exists on the internet. As an emerging artist
it’s a great way to gain publicity; it’s a way to allow my peers and one day
galleries and collectors to see my work, which could lead to me exhibiting my
work, so that in turn it may be seen in person in its entire aura. In fact,
photos of my work are what recently made my acceptance into a national ceramics
competition possible, which made me think of what you stated in your essay, that
“technical reproduction can put the copy of the original into situations which
would be out of reach for the original itself,” (Benjamin, ).
And for me, it is extremely important to be
making sculptural work that inherently demands the presence and the pilgrimage
of the viewers. One of the last things I want to do is make work that could easily
contribute more to the detachment and disengagement that our society
experiences when everyone is so complacent to experience life through the
filter of a computer or television screen, thinking it qualifies as direct
experience. This being said, I hope people venture to see my work in person
despite the fact that it may also exist in a reproduction somewhere. For me, photographs
are simulations of reality, and the original work of art will obviously retain
more power, beauty, essence, magic, whatever you call it…aura …than a reproduction. And to me, a lot of the importance of
art resides in this ability to radiate aura. You said it yourself, Walter, “Even
the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one element, [the
original’s] presence in time and space…its unique existence.” What I want to do
is to make art that retains this physical presence, this unique existence, this
aura…” She was out of breath.
He
looked at her and nodded with a sense of satisfaction as he stood up from the
stool, straightening his overcoat. Without saying a word he nonchalantly made
his way toward the door, turning to face her once he reached it.
“You
may be on to something,” he said mysteriously. “As for your girl, her calves are
a little short.” He turned and continued out the door.
She was
bewildered after the encounter. Feeling a little shaken up, she took a huge
therapeutic gulp of her coffee and returned to her work, again devoting all her
attention to her hands in front of her. No one else was in the studio, and she
didn’t mind that this was often the case. She could focus more on her work without
anyone around as a potential distraction, although recently she had been longing
for some company in the studio, someone to share ideas with, to argue with, to
talk to about art and life.
Still
lying in bed remembering this, eyelids flittering, she was amazed at the
clarity, linearity, and vividness of this dream. This was great, because for her, reflecting
upon dreams often offered insight or solutions to her problems or anxieties.
Shortly after Walter Benjamin had
left, she heard footsteps, and glanced up to see who was now in the studio. It was
an older woman, wearing loose fitting clothes, walking around the studio in
much the same fashion that Walter had been, with keen observation. The woman
made her way to the table she was working at, and straightforwardly introduced
herself.
“Hi, I’m Suzi Gablik.”
“Suzi Gablik!? No way! Good to meet
you,” Again, taken off-guard, her heart started racing once again. What was
this, some kind of set-up? A test? Why was she encountering all these….intellectual people?
“I’ve been watching you in here for
a while now. Not just today, but for the past few weeks,” Suzi said.
Well,
that’s not creepy or anything, she thought to herself… Although, she did
feel strangely honored to be the focus of Suzi’s attention, Suzi being someone
whose writing she recently had read. Dreams have a funny way of making sense of
things.
“Why don’t you go ahead and tell me
what your work is about. I see that these are all your figures up here?” Suzi
said pointing to the window with somewhat of a threatening overtone.
“Like this girl here. This one is about me
being the only one that is truly able to take care of myself, and sometimes
taking care of oneself means letting oneself go. I draw upon my own experiences
and anxieties, but I hope that other people can relate to what the figures are
doing.”
Suzi just continued to stare at her,
knowing that as an artist she probably wasn’t finished talking about herself.
Artists love to talk about themselves.
“And this one here…this one was
inspired by a dream I recently had. I know that sounds rather contrived, but it
was an absurdly topical dream. In the dream I had to take care of this girl,
whose entire being was concentrated into this ceramic ball with her face on it.
I knew nothing about her, except that I had to take care of her. I left her on
this ledge while I turned my head to do something, and next thing I know she’s
fallen of the ledge and broken into a billion pieces, dead. I think the dream
was about destroying the things we are supposed to take care of in life, like
our relationships with other people. So I brought this dream to life with this
girl here, who’s about to drop the face she’s holding. I want to make other
faces to be placed around her that represent other things in our lives that we
are destroying, like our sense of home and relationships we should have in our
life, which she will inferably be dropping off the ledge.” She was talking too
much, she knew it. “Well…what do you think?” she asked Suzi.
“Well, to me, I think your
intentions are a little self-centered. I mean, a lot of your time is spent in
here alone, and from what you just shared with me, a lot of your work is merely
about yourself. I agree that people may be able to personally relate to your experiences,
but, I think your artwork could definitely be a more socially or ecologically
responsible, and definitely more participatory in function. You’ve read my
book, haven’t you? The Reenchantment of
Art?”
“I have, yes. I thought that although your book was stimulating
and inspiring, but at the same time, it really frustrated me in the sense that it
challenges a lot of my current intentions for making art. While reading your
book I was second-guessing and questioning everything about myself as an
artist, fearing that my art, which I see as significant and meaningful, fails
in the sense that it doesn’t achieve anything of social, ecological, or
humanistic relevance. At a point I was so discouraged that I questioned if I
should even be making objects anymore, fearing that this mode of art object-making
simply continues the trend of the work of art as the special and unique object
that’s meant only to be looked at, lacking any additional practicality or
usefulness!
However, I do feel that these two
newest figures relate to some of the things you advocate for in your book, like
the reemergence of subject matter dealing with ‘the collective unconscious…our
inner world, transcendental experience, mysteries and magnanimities’ (Gablik,
53). But now I mainly feel that all my self-expression is futile and in vain,
resulting in art-for-art’s sake, and this has really messed with my head to say
the least!”
Suzi looked concerned, but no
longer threatening. “Well, at a certain point, I do think that art made in
today’s time definitely needs to go beyond the satisfaction of the artist, and
beyond the limitations of the specialized gallery walls. I think the concepts
behind your newest pieces are very compelling and much more interesting than
those of your past work. But, I would encourage you to become more aware and
more involved, and make something that can be progressively useful and
beneficial to someone other than yourself. As I said in my book, ‘In the past,
we have made much of the idea of art as the mirror…we have had art as a
hammer…we have had art as furniture…and we have had art as the search for the
self. There is another kind of art, which speaks to the power of connectedness
and established bonds, art that calls us into relationship,’ (114). In other
words, becoming more of a communally engaged artist is something that you would
deeply benefit from.”
“I agree that it would. But for now,
since I am so young and given my circumstances, I think that what I need to do
now is to embark on this search for self.
I am doing this through my artistic practice, and I don’t want to feel
ashamed for doing this. Although much more may be expected from me as an artist
from professors, critics, society or what not, I don’t think that right now I
am capable of making art that is some grand collaborative production. Right now
I think it is more important that I discover who I am and what I truly care
about, so one day I may apply these passions to a bigger, more actively
involved motive. Have you read that article written by Steven Lambert and
Stephen Duncombe, ‘An Open Letter to Critics Writing About Political Art’?”
“I haven’t, no.”
“Well, they talk about something in
the article that I found really insightful for all artists, not just
politically active ones. They write about a common shortcoming of artists that
half-heartedly use ‘social injustice and political subject matter: making these
forces objects for contemplation, and perversely, appreciation,’ (Duncombe and
Lambert). This is something I don’t want to have result from making art with a
half-baked social, political, or ecological commentary that only points out a
problem without a solution, resulting in perverse appreciation veiled as
artistic activism. For now, I’d rather stick to the path I’m on and make art
that can make a smaller, more intimate impact for a smaller audience.”
“All I have to say is that this
method of art making may satisfy you now, but I hope one day that you may apply
your passions to result in something more altruistic. That being said, I understand
where you’re coming from as a young artist, and if you eventually make art as a
means for change, I’d rather see you truly know what you’re interested in
rather than make engaged art out of feeling that you are obligated to. It’s
good to know what you want, but maybe think about what others need at the same
time.”
She stood up abruptly. “Keep creating, and good luck.”
After Suzi made her way out of the
studio, the young artist was truly baffled. She was longing for peace and
quiet, because she usually doesn’t engage in this much conversation at one
time. Yet as soon as she turned around to continue her work, there was some
strange guy standing right by her table! And again, she did not hear him come
into the studio! What’s worse, he was wearing frameless glasses and a woman’s
wig.
“Duane Michals?!” she exclaimed. Now
she was really happy, although she continued to wonder how all these people
were managing to make their way into her studio space.
“Yes, I am. You’re conversations
with Walter and with Suzi seemed to go well. Don’t worry about Suzi, she can be
a little preachy. What I’m interested in is your actual work, its aesthetic as
well as conceptual components. You said this piece here was inspired by a
dream? I love dreams,” he said affectionately.
“You heard those conversations?
Well, yeah, it is about a dream, but with it I’m hoping to expand upon what I believe
to be the message of the dream, you know, how we are destroying the things in
life we are supposed to take care of?”
“I can see that. For me the piece
is a little ambiguous, but that can be a powerful element. It’s similar to how I
view photography, in that, 'I like photographs to be unresolved…They shouldn’t
spill the beans,' (Richards 68). That being said, I can see that you work
narratively, yet the narratives are open-ended,” Duane commented.
“I agree, I think a little mystery
can go a long way, and I want people to feel as if they can draw their own
conclusions and make up their own stories when looking at my figures. You know,
with a lot of my earlier work I often feared that the figures would be too
easily dismissed because to some, they could appear to be too cute or too sweet.
You’ve experienced this with your own work, right, when you started adding entries
to your images? I read somewhere that 'to be sincere, open and emotional, to
reveal and acknowledge one’s vulnerability, as [you do], is to risk accusations
of sentimentality and worse' (Livingstone, 11). This was something I felt I could
relate to. But this tenderness, this intimacy and the bringing to life all that
is invisible yet all that it shared among us, is what is currently driving my
work; I know that’s what drives your work,” she shared. She felt as if she
could be more open with Duane than she had been all day.
“Ye—” he started, before she began
to interrupt. Again, she was talking too much.
“But I think my work is about
something else as well. One of the things I think we are losing touch with is
our humanness, in the sense that we are losing the ability—and more
frighteningly the desire—to make things by hand, which is why I choose to work
with the tangible materials that I do. Nicholas Carr said something in his
writing The Shallows—something I think
you would really enjoy reading—that because of our increasing interactions and
dependence on technology, we are numbing essential parts of ourselves (212); for
me that is the use of our hands. For us as artists, I think we need to retain
what Carr referred to as, 'a sensitivity to what’s lost' in the current grips
of technology, even if that means making work that is a little sincere. The
responsibility, for me so far, can take shape when one celebrates the invisible
things found in human sensations, like
empathy, nostalgia, wisdom, memory, fears, desires, dreams, love, imperfection.
You do this in your work, Duane, especially in your piece, It Is No Accident That You Are Reading This. I don’t know if you
could tell or not, but I’ve been really inspired by your outlook on art.”
“Well, thank
you. I’m not here to talk about my own work exactly, but I appreciate you
making these connections. I think that this point, hearing all you’ve had to
say to Walter and Suzi, one thing that I can say to you as a young artist is
that it is really important to trust in that which inspires you and to recognize
what drives you; it is also essential to have idols and heroes, and it’s especially
important to take chances. Also, something I continually have to remind myself
of is, ‘You don’t grow when you surround yourself with people who repeat
everything you have to say. You grow through contradiction’ (Richards 69). And
you can’t be afraid of this contradiction, or of being ‘wrong.’ ‘The greater
failure is…being afraid to make a fool of yourself, being afraid to risk’ (68).
Keep this in mind,” he said reassuringly.
She smiled, “All I truly know is
that I still have a lot to figure out, and I’m completely ok with that…it
shouldn’t be any other way.” Saying this, they both made their way to the door, and the
dream came to an end.
Feeling a warm sense of content mixed
with her usual vague sense of anxiety, she got up from her bed and put on a
change of clothes, and began to make her way to the studio to get to work.
Works Cited
Benjamin,
Walter. "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction." Marxists
Internet Archive. UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television, 2005. Web.
10 Dec. 2012.
Carr, Nicholas. The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to
Our Brains. New York: W. W. Norton & Company Inc., 2011. Print.
Duncombe, Stephen
and Steve Lambert. “An Open Letter to Critics Writing About Political Art.” Artisticactivism.org. Center for Artistic
Activism, 20 Oct. 2012. Web. 20 Oct. 2012.
Gablik, Suzi. The Reenchantment of Art. New York:
Thames and Hudson, 1991. Print.
Livingstone,
Marco. The Essential Duane Michals.
London: Little, Brown, and Company (Inc.), 1997. Print.
Richards, Judith Olch. Inside the Studio: Two Decades of Talks with Artists in New York.New York: Independent Curators International (ICI), 2004. Print.
Richards, Judith Olch. Inside the Studio: Two Decades of Talks with Artists in New York.New York: Independent Curators International (ICI), 2004. Print.
