Not quite sure what to expect during my residency at Montalvo Arts Center (Saratoga, CA), mostly because I had never done one before, I embraced the potential for discovery. I went mostly empty-handed and open-minded. As my working process typically goes, I had imagined finding some out-of-the-way site nearby, perhaps a local ruin of some kind, to explore for it its light and material conditions, for its qualities of time. Much of my work is about using the givens of a space in order to create work in situ or to make autonomous objects derived from features of the same site.
Upon arriving at Montalvo, I couldn’t have been more delighted by the accommodations of my live/work space in Studio 50. Designed in collaboration between architect Jim Jennings, sculptor Richard Serra, and writer Czelaw Milosz, the spaces were a strong match for my interests conceptually and formally. The interrelations of architectural space, sculpture, and poetic language, as well as the less tangible qualities of the spaces themselves inspired immediate interest not just for what I might accomplish during my residency but also for its coincidence with similar unfinished projects of mine currently underway elsewhere. The studio would function as a site of inquiry and contemplation as well as perform as a model in certain aspects for future work.
The architecture proper---cinder blocks, cast-glass wall units, and shear strength rods---had initiated the intrigue. The expanding natural environs---hillside forest, tall grasses, and a babbling stream nearby situated the overall context quite agreeably in contrast to the stark forms of the buildings themselves. So, specific terms of the architecture and its setting would frame the work.
After an initial assessment, my first order of business was to excavate the studio, to clear all of its contents---furnishings as well as material remnants of previous occupants---in order to determine a working plan. A few items found inside caught my eye: an orange, plastic bookcase; a knot of wood presumably from a tree nearby; and a coil of green wire wound around a 2x2 chunk of wood with a couple of protruding screws. As useful elements, I had also identified the drafting table and a wooden worktable of which the latter I would reinforce and mobilize with wheels. Further, overhead I was attracted to both a hand-made gantry (a rigging device) with a yellow coil of rope slung casually over its beam as well as a series of black roll-up sunshades covering sections of the glass walls. The aforementioned effects comprised the positive contents of the space, and I knew they would determine the project somehow.
Next, I considered what I deemed problematic elements of the space, things that, in my opinion, impeded the overall “flow” and workability of the space physically as well as visually. The most glaring problems that I discovered were spray-painted graffiti tags from a previous occupant who had haphazardly placed one on each of three walls---northwest, northeast, and southeast. Neither was it clear to me their purpose in placement nor communication in content. The marks were a distraction to an otherwise beautifully lit and carefully considered space; one where diffused sunlight throughout was amplified in the afternoon by such things as yellow flowers glowing from just outside the glass; blue sky above; and a small tree pressed against the glass wrapping around the northeast corner. So, in responding to the collective environmental conditions of the studio, I had considered how I would accomplish the following: neutralize the spray-painted marks; control both light and heat gain by rearranging the sunshades; and reintegrate found materials with constructed ones of mine in order to clarify the overall shape of the space and attempt to harmonize disparate parts.
Much of this might sound like practical matters---and in part they were. On the other hand, the interplay between the practical function of the space and my interventions---proposed improvements---together would constitute the bulk of my research and project there, an attempt to work directly with the found site as an artistic consideration. So, my intent was to critique and choreograph the space in order to contemplate its virtues for its own sake, to appreciate its local context as well as expand its young and potent history.
As a way to orient my investigation, I set the orange plastic bookcase on its side forming a stepped L-shape on the floor. I aligned its sides with the northwest and northeast walls while using a compass to place the aforementioned chunk of tree and coiled wire on wood in order to establish a reference point for due north. Having taken the bookcase out of its original orientation and use-value, I intended its new function to be that of index and sign for my project in terms of color (orange) and direction. Situating the bookcase as a static object also allowed me to read the transit of sunlight throughout each day as I studied the sequence of sunlight conditions---AM twilight, mid-morning, mid-day, afternoon, evening, PM twilight, and night---all terms not so easily definable the more I explored them. Each temporal phase would provide specific opportunities to enjoy shifting interplay between light, color and surface inside and out.
Alongside studying the diurnal lighting conditions, I covered the aforementioned spray-painted marks by painting found ¼” plywood panels into white, vertical and angular sections and attaching them to the wall in front of each section. The panels’ positioning also followed the dominant studio lines; ones set up by glass joints and shear strength rods. As a measure of resourcefulness, each of the three blocked areas would comprise an entire panel without waste. As such, an economy of means was also built into this part of the process. With the panels attached along the sole plate between cinderblock and glass, each section became a discrete object (pictorial sculpture?) suggesting landscape relationships. I began to see them as serrations (mountainous cuts between land and sky, or in this instance between cinder block and glass). I also enjoyed the potential wordplay available with Richard Serra’s name though it wasn’t intentional nor, moreover, was it clear to me his involvement with the spatial design. Once installed, the painted panels would now start to unify the space between wall and floor.
Once I was satisfied with the placement of said sections, I hung found lengths of cotton string just in front of the panels similarly to the draw cords of the sunshades. They “tied” notions of art and architecture together (again wordplay) albeit tenuous in any actual way. As an additional gesture, I spray painted parts of each string to loosely echo and contrast the hardedge lines of the glass joints in terms of color while suggesting a better application for spray painting itself. By these sculptural interventions, I had attempted to unify disparate elements of the space while also evolving them as discrete works in their own right.
Once each section was established on each of three walls---northwest, northeast, and southeast---I repositioned the sunshades in strategic places to both block/filter the sunlight at moments of the day while also following relationships and forms developing in the space from my evolving process.
As a final sculptural consideration with all the materials in place, I installed eight fluorescent light fixtures each colored differently with plastic gels. The lights were suspended from and powered by the existing track-lighting sockets. In this way, again as an economy of means, they would utilize the pre-existing conditions of the space while also playing formally with such things as painted strings and gantry rope. Each lamp hung nearly to the floor thereby suturing the space vertically as much as blending and mixing color on individual panels, between wall sections, as well as interacting with changing sunlight conditions between inside and out dependent on time of day. The addition of interior lights also completed the exterior views through the cast, glass walls, especially at night where colors were richly present and dynamic dependent on viewer position and participation. It was found that twilight was optimum. As a result of the light, a myriad of vantage points would emerge as a result of viewer interaction as well as time of day.
As a way to complete my inquiry, having documented the entire working process through still photography, I printed one photo, an image that was taken from the drafting table where remnants of plastic gels and a found, weed-eater cord had intermingled in what appeared to me just the right way. Pushed by the breezes of the nearby open doors, I was struck at this particular moment by the light and color against such a smooth and absorbing surface. Of course, I also enjoyed the available wordplay as a “drafting” table and the wind had produced a portion of its composition. Somehow the photo crystallized a moment and functioned as a coda for my time there.
The work that I had accomplished at Studio 50 was another attempt to reconcile the givens of a specific site in order to harmonize formal and functional elements, but more importantly to frame and appreciate the presence of a space at so variable moments in time. Moreover, the architecture could start to be seen as art in and of itself. Certainly a relationship between the building, its contents, and my interventions challenged such a notion and gave me reason to continue such questions.
Upon arriving at Montalvo, I couldn’t have been more delighted by the accommodations of my live/work space in Studio 50. Designed in collaboration between architect Jim Jennings, sculptor Richard Serra, and writer Czelaw Milosz, the spaces were a strong match for my interests conceptually and formally. The interrelations of architectural space, sculpture, and poetic language, as well as the less tangible qualities of the spaces themselves inspired immediate interest not just for what I might accomplish during my residency but also for its coincidence with similar unfinished projects of mine currently underway elsewhere. The studio would function as a site of inquiry and contemplation as well as perform as a model in certain aspects for future work.
The architecture proper---cinder blocks, cast-glass wall units, and shear strength rods---had initiated the intrigue. The expanding natural environs---hillside forest, tall grasses, and a babbling stream nearby situated the overall context quite agreeably in contrast to the stark forms of the buildings themselves. So, specific terms of the architecture and its setting would frame the work.
After an initial assessment, my first order of business was to excavate the studio, to clear all of its contents---furnishings as well as material remnants of previous occupants---in order to determine a working plan. A few items found inside caught my eye: an orange, plastic bookcase; a knot of wood presumably from a tree nearby; and a coil of green wire wound around a 2x2 chunk of wood with a couple of protruding screws. As useful elements, I had also identified the drafting table and a wooden worktable of which the latter I would reinforce and mobilize with wheels. Further, overhead I was attracted to both a hand-made gantry (a rigging device) with a yellow coil of rope slung casually over its beam as well as a series of black roll-up sunshades covering sections of the glass walls. The aforementioned effects comprised the positive contents of the space, and I knew they would determine the project somehow.
Next, I considered what I deemed problematic elements of the space, things that, in my opinion, impeded the overall “flow” and workability of the space physically as well as visually. The most glaring problems that I discovered were spray-painted graffiti tags from a previous occupant who had haphazardly placed one on each of three walls---northwest, northeast, and southeast. Neither was it clear to me their purpose in placement nor communication in content. The marks were a distraction to an otherwise beautifully lit and carefully considered space; one where diffused sunlight throughout was amplified in the afternoon by such things as yellow flowers glowing from just outside the glass; blue sky above; and a small tree pressed against the glass wrapping around the northeast corner. So, in responding to the collective environmental conditions of the studio, I had considered how I would accomplish the following: neutralize the spray-painted marks; control both light and heat gain by rearranging the sunshades; and reintegrate found materials with constructed ones of mine in order to clarify the overall shape of the space and attempt to harmonize disparate parts.
Much of this might sound like practical matters---and in part they were. On the other hand, the interplay between the practical function of the space and my interventions---proposed improvements---together would constitute the bulk of my research and project there, an attempt to work directly with the found site as an artistic consideration. So, my intent was to critique and choreograph the space in order to contemplate its virtues for its own sake, to appreciate its local context as well as expand its young and potent history.
As a way to orient my investigation, I set the orange plastic bookcase on its side forming a stepped L-shape on the floor. I aligned its sides with the northwest and northeast walls while using a compass to place the aforementioned chunk of tree and coiled wire on wood in order to establish a reference point for due north. Having taken the bookcase out of its original orientation and use-value, I intended its new function to be that of index and sign for my project in terms of color (orange) and direction. Situating the bookcase as a static object also allowed me to read the transit of sunlight throughout each day as I studied the sequence of sunlight conditions---AM twilight, mid-morning, mid-day, afternoon, evening, PM twilight, and night---all terms not so easily definable the more I explored them. Each temporal phase would provide specific opportunities to enjoy shifting interplay between light, color and surface inside and out.
Alongside studying the diurnal lighting conditions, I covered the aforementioned spray-painted marks by painting found ¼” plywood panels into white, vertical and angular sections and attaching them to the wall in front of each section. The panels’ positioning also followed the dominant studio lines; ones set up by glass joints and shear strength rods. As a measure of resourcefulness, each of the three blocked areas would comprise an entire panel without waste. As such, an economy of means was also built into this part of the process. With the panels attached along the sole plate between cinderblock and glass, each section became a discrete object (pictorial sculpture?) suggesting landscape relationships. I began to see them as serrations (mountainous cuts between land and sky, or in this instance between cinder block and glass). I also enjoyed the potential wordplay available with Richard Serra’s name though it wasn’t intentional nor, moreover, was it clear to me his involvement with the spatial design. Once installed, the painted panels would now start to unify the space between wall and floor.
Once I was satisfied with the placement of said sections, I hung found lengths of cotton string just in front of the panels similarly to the draw cords of the sunshades. They “tied” notions of art and architecture together (again wordplay) albeit tenuous in any actual way. As an additional gesture, I spray painted parts of each string to loosely echo and contrast the hardedge lines of the glass joints in terms of color while suggesting a better application for spray painting itself. By these sculptural interventions, I had attempted to unify disparate elements of the space while also evolving them as discrete works in their own right.
Once each section was established on each of three walls---northwest, northeast, and southeast---I repositioned the sunshades in strategic places to both block/filter the sunlight at moments of the day while also following relationships and forms developing in the space from my evolving process.
As a final sculptural consideration with all the materials in place, I installed eight fluorescent light fixtures each colored differently with plastic gels. The lights were suspended from and powered by the existing track-lighting sockets. In this way, again as an economy of means, they would utilize the pre-existing conditions of the space while also playing formally with such things as painted strings and gantry rope. Each lamp hung nearly to the floor thereby suturing the space vertically as much as blending and mixing color on individual panels, between wall sections, as well as interacting with changing sunlight conditions between inside and out dependent on time of day. The addition of interior lights also completed the exterior views through the cast, glass walls, especially at night where colors were richly present and dynamic dependent on viewer position and participation. It was found that twilight was optimum. As a result of the light, a myriad of vantage points would emerge as a result of viewer interaction as well as time of day.
As a way to complete my inquiry, having documented the entire working process through still photography, I printed one photo, an image that was taken from the drafting table where remnants of plastic gels and a found, weed-eater cord had intermingled in what appeared to me just the right way. Pushed by the breezes of the nearby open doors, I was struck at this particular moment by the light and color against such a smooth and absorbing surface. Of course, I also enjoyed the available wordplay as a “drafting” table and the wind had produced a portion of its composition. Somehow the photo crystallized a moment and functioned as a coda for my time there.
The work that I had accomplished at Studio 50 was another attempt to reconcile the givens of a specific site in order to harmonize formal and functional elements, but more importantly to frame and appreciate the presence of a space at so variable moments in time. Moreover, the architecture could start to be seen as art in and of itself. Certainly a relationship between the building, its contents, and my interventions challenged such a notion and gave me reason to continue such questions.