Continued interest by artist and designers in the wonders of bees; Wolfgang Buttress and Tristan Simmonds create a giant hive installation that responds to the activities of Kew Garden’s resident bees. LED lighting within the structure responds to the hum within the nearby hives giving visitors insight into the activities and moods of the gardens residents.
I’ve been working with copper over the last couple of months and there is one object in particular – a dodecahedron – that had required a long process. As I’ve been going along with the creation of the object I’ve discovered that I really enjoy some of the forms it takes along the way. In order to create the object it is first cut by hand from a flat sheet, then it is scored by hand to allow folding. In between each step the metal becomes hardened and brittle and requires annealing where the metal is heated almost to metalling point and then cooled allowing the composition of the metal to return to it’s more malleable ‘pre worked’ condition. In these steps between being a flat sheet and being a three dimensional object it has gone through stages of folding and unfolding which I really enjoyed and felt were objects in their own right expressing the process of the making. Object opened up after testing fit of sides and edges. Annealed and polished copper. Object partially folded without soldering and with side that came loose from a deep score mark. Annealed but unpolished copper.
There is something about the bendiness and fluidity of the unfolded object that makes it look like it’s moving or creeping. It’s also hard to tell if it is metal or metallic paper.
I think there might be something for me in the annealing process itself; the way the physical structure and chemical properties of the metal are actually changed by heat to make it more malleable. Through working (e.g. bending, forming, stretching), the atoms in the metal become ‘dislocated’ which is an irregularity in the crystal structure of the lattice forming the metal. Annealing diffuses the atoms and returns them to their un-dislocated state. There are three parts to the process: recovery, recrystallisation and grain growth. These stages are pretty much what you would expect and you want to avoid the third stage as it can weaken the metal. Getting the metal to the recovery or recrystallisation stage returns it to its workable form. I think that there is something there that I can work with, just not sure quite what will come out of it yet.
For the April Critique I presented 2 works-in-progress that were both focussed on the use and understanding of symbols in visual documents and artefacts, particularly the use of symbology in artwork with esoteric content.
Symbols have layers of meaning and understanding attached to them that vary greatly depending on context and reader. They have the ability to surrender their secrets in a fractal manner when examined. Within esoteric art practice I have experienced an occulting and revealing of knowledge that seems to fold and unfold within the work.
My first piece, ‘Enochian Artefact’, was a complex, interactive, paper-craft piece that required a certain degree of inquisitiveness and bravery on the part of the reader. Some felt apprehension and even fear on encountering the artefact, and this was not something I had anticipated. I expected curiosity, but not such strong negative emotion. I felt that the symbols on the work would make viewers curious, but actually they created a barrier between them and the work. There was a feeling from a couple of readers that permissions were required to access the artefact and explore it’s secrets, that it was alive in some way and that it held a power that could be let-loose without permission from it’s maker – the opening of Pandora’s box.
The artefact hid and revealed certain elements (seen as ‘secrets’ by the readers) and came in several different parts that needed to be interacted with in different ways. It was pointed out that the whole piece operated a lot like a language and the reader had to believe that there was a logical system at play. The rotating torus and the moving star were the most successful elements because they held the viewer’s attention and got them asking questions. The torus in particular was fascinating to people and they seemed comfortable interacting with it. Many commented on its infinite movement and the balancing point where it was able to rest.
The second work-in-progress was a symbology game made up of tessellated tiles. It required the players to gain points by making symbolic connections and adding tiles onto each other, spreading out across the table. Yet again their was trepidation around the symbols and their meanings that created a barrier between the ‘players’ and the game. While some were excited to pick up tiles and see what connections could be made, others were repelled and felt unwelcome. There was even a suggestion that the player felt like a victim who was being manipulated into playing a powerful game that they don’t understand and don’t know what the outcome will be. Yet again, it was only the presence of myself as the ‘Host’ that made them feel safe enough to touch the tiles.
I had not anticipated the level of trepidation and unease, but this is because I am familiar with this symbolic language in a way many are not. This raises the very important question of whether these pieces actually *work*. While visiting Peter Robinson in his studio he brought up the pertinent question that he asks of his work (and which I need to ask of mine!) “Is this interesting to me? Is this interesting to others?” I have fallen into the trap of making work that is interesting to me, but is exclusionary to others.
The other problem is that there is too much going on in my work. One reader commented that it might be a bit ‘over baked’ and as soon as she said that I knew it was true. It is important for me now to take apart my work, find one aspect that I think is interesting to me AND to others, and delve into it in a way that I haven’t before. Leave behind the symbolic language I am using to avoid attachment to that particular code and find a new language. Materiality and scale are also obvious areas to explore and I feel that there is a lot I can express just through scaling and changing the substrates.
Thoughts on the borders between art and design, from “Design and Art” Ed. Alex Coles, Whitechapel Gallery and the MIT Press, 2007
“The interface between art and design is by no means a new subject. Within Modernism it has its roots in the late nineteenth century in writings of the British critic John Ruskin and the artist and designer William Morris, and in the twentieth century, early avant-garde movements such as Soviet Constructivism, De Stijl in the Netherlands and the Bauhaus at Dessau. In different ways , they responded to the technological and political implications of industrialisation by fostering new relationships between the autonomous sphere of art and the mass-produced culture of industrial design. The result was a new form of practice wherein traditional boundaries between disciplines were renegotiated.”
p10, Alex Coles, Beyond Designart
“Once an artist decides on a goal to pursue his or her creative process looks very much like a design process. Artists have effectively turned their self-made challenge into a partly determined design problem. And the temporarily turn themselves into designers. So the border between art and design is permeable, and not just from art towards design.”
p12, Alex Coles, Beyond Designart, Kees Dorst quoted
– This process is very interesting to me. As a commercial designer I am used to working from a brief that is given by a client, so I am very much concerned with solving their issues rather than exploring my own questions. But in my personal art practice I still create a brief for myself even in as much as I start out with an idea, a question or a goal. I very rarely start working with no ‘plan of attack’ when creating art, so in that sense I am creating my own ‘brief’ and ‘process’ that is not dissimilar to that used when creating a design piece.
“No design can exist in isolation. It is always related, sometimes in very complex ways, to an entire constellation of influencing situations and attitudes. What we call a good design is one which achieves integrity – that is, unity or wholeness – in balanced relation to its environment.”
p19, George Nelson, Good Design: What is it for, 1957
“The purpose of good design is to ornament existence, not to substitute for it.”
p 22, George Nelson, Good Design: What is it for, 1957
“The words design, machine, technology, are and art are closely related to one another, one term being unthinkable without the others, and they all derive from the same existential view of the world. However, this internal connection has been denied for centuries (at least since the Renaissance). Modern bourgeois culture made a sharp division between the world of art and that of technology and machines; hence culture was s[plit into two mutually exclusive branches: one scientific, quantifiable and ‘hard’, the other aesthetic, evaluative and ‘soft’. This unfortunate split started to become irreversible towards the end of the nineteenth century. In the gap the word design formed a bridge between the two. It could do this since it is an expression of the internal connection between art and technology. Hence in contemporary life, design more or less indicates the site where art and technology (along with their respective evaluative and scientific ways of thinking) come together as equals, making a new form of culture possible.”
p56, Vilén Flusser, About the Word Design, 1993
“Design is becoming more elaborately layered, more spectacular, more pervasive in our lives. Design, rather than art, is foremost now in embodying the visual spirit of the age. Millions get by without going anywhere near an art gallery, but everyone is touched in some way by design. Perhaps what we are seeing in the inexorable rise of design is the gradual reunification of art, in the pre-modernist, ‘decorative’ sense, and everyday life.”
p99, Rick Poynor, Art’s Little Brother, 2005
(All quotations in this post have been drawn from “Things I Have Learned In My Life So Far” – Stefan Sagmeister, 2008, Abrams. Because the ‘book’ is divided into 15 booklets in side a slipcase, none with any page numbers or titles, I have been unable to provide page numbers for citations.)
What makes design distinct from art? Where do you draw the line? What makes this piece of work art, and this piece of work design? And why? These questions have been playing on my mind for the last 17 years. I felt that Stefan Sagmeister might provide some insight into this tricky inquiry, as he is the first contemporary graphic designer who springs to mind when imaging someone who continues to cross those boundaries.
“After running a design studio in New York for seven years, I decided in 2000 to conduct an experimental year, a year in which I would design no projects for clients but investigate how the work would change with no outside briefs or deadlines attached.”
“Thing I Have Learned In My Life So Far” showcases the projects that Sagmeister’s studio was commissioned to create (by paying clients) after he took a year to work independently of clients and the constraints of The Brief. He created experimental works entirely outside the comfort zone of the role he was used to as ‘Professional Graphic Designer’ and strayed from the well defined constrains of ‘Design’ into what most considered ‘Art’. After seeing the work he produced in his ‘year off’, clients were inspired themselves to give him free artistic reign to create something for them. It was a designer’s dream! Basically they were saying to him “Here’s the money, here’s the placement, do whatever you want.”
Stefan Sagmeister, Diary entry from June 30, 2000:
“Graphic design is a language. So, of course, I can go and learn another language, like film or music … and after some significant training I’ll be able to speak them in a way other people understand …
Or, instead of learning a new language, I can refine the one that I do know how to speak – graphic design – and, much more importantly, figure out if I actually have something to say. It would be maddening to spend ten years learning how to direct a film only to find out I have nothing to say. It might me more romantic to say “I love you” in French than it is in Cantonese: nevertheless, it is still possible to say it. It might be more touching to say it in a song than in design, but saying it in design should be achievable, too. And it is possible to say “I love you” even in architecture, as the Taj Mahal proves.”
While working with the language of graphic design without client and budget constraints, Sagmeister realised that he had the competency to push all the boundaries he felt constricted by in the commercial design world. His work, informed by the language of graphic design, became something else. There was no obvious product or service being marketed, the work was open to the interpretation of the viewer rather than communicating a direct call-to-action, but at the same time there are products and brand identities being marketed by the very fact that companies were paying to be associated with Sagmeisters creativity and design flair. As Nancy Spector writes:
“Stefan Sagmeister’s series Things I Have Learned In My Life So Far refuses to behave itself. Drawn from an inventory of aphoristic thoughts compiled in his diary, this unruly project claims to be graphic design and not art. After all it’s numerous instalments were generated by commissions with commercial applications. Behind the facade of personal revelation, there were indeed products to endorse and brand identities to convey. However despite Sagmeister’s insistence otherwise, Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far occupies a space associated with art – specifically, the space of mass-media communication appropriated by Conceptual artists to escape the confines of the gallery system.” – Nancy Spector, Chief Curator, Guggenheim Museum, Essay “States of Wonder” in “Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far”, Stefan Sagmeister, 2008.
So what are the qualities that make art and design different? Sagmeister and his peers offer some interesting insights:
One of the possible differences lies in the utility of the work:
“If I design a chair and push it to become more and more uncomfortable, gradually minimising its utility until I cannot sit on it anymore, there will be a point where it ceases to become a chair and becomes sculpture.”
And another in the effect of it’s communication:
“… the essence of art is to foster the kind of uncertainty that results in questions, while the role of design is to enhance communications that can lead to answers.” – Steven Heller, Design Critic and Historian, Essay in “Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far”, Stefan Sagmeister, 2008.
When talking about one of the spreads he worked on, “Everything I do always comes back to me”, Sagmeister discusses the dialogue he wishes to open with the viewer which leaves questions unanswered and room for personal interpretation:
“I purposely avoided turning the typography into a direct reflection of the content (say, by forcing the type into a circle closing in on itself), thinking that, considering the straightforwardness of the sentences, matching straightforward typographic form would create a closed system requiring no mental participation of viewers and consequently leaving them unengaged.
We designed the type referencing events, people and places whose meaning might not be easily recognised by an audience (e.g. the onion rings forming ‘I do’ reference ny mentor Tibor Kalman’s onion ring collection). Even though I am, in general, not a big fan of ambitious design (“the viewer can take whatever he or she wants:), in this instance I thought I would leave the system open and create room for an audience to relate.”
I think that all of these qualities are present in separating design from art, but it still feels like a complex and difficult boundary. The ideas of utility of purpose and the directness of the communication (usually eliciting a desired action or outcome) are certainly areas I have identified in my practices as both commercial designer and artist. I don’t feel that the commercial transaction (e.g. a piece commissioned by a client) is a relevant differentiator, as artworks can be commissioned, be paid for and, therefore, be items of commerce without losing their legitimacy as ‘art’ pieces. But maybe the ‘Design Brief’ is a differentiator as the client is able to dictate the desired outcome of a design project, but does not usually do this for an artwork (except, historically, a portrait work).
“If I Want To Explore A New Direction Professionally, It Is Helpful To Try It Out For Myself First”.
Typography created by Marian Bantjes.
“I, like Stefan, also try out new directions and experiments on my own, which often end up in the professional realm later on. Creating in sugar is one of these things …” – Marian Bantjes, quote in “Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far”, Stefan Sagmeister, 2008.
This piece was interesting to me because it was a collaboration between two ‘designer’ who are also ‘artists’ by taking an experimental approach to their creativity in order to free themselves from the confines of The Design Brief, before bringing what they have discovered back to their commercial practices.
“Complaining is Silly. Either Act or Forget”.
“The billboard commissioned for Lisbon by Portuguese beer brand Super Bock consists of twenty large sheets of regular newsprint paper. We took advantage of the fact that newsprint yellows significantly in the sun and built gigantic cardboard stencils for the 3 x 8 metre billboard on the roof of our studio in New York. After the newsprint was exposed to the sunlight for a full week, we removed the stencils. the areas underneath remained completely white, while the surrounding background had turned yellow, and the text became readable: Complaining is silly. Either act or forget.
We rolled the exposed newsprint up and shipped it to Lisbon, where it was put up in a very sunny spot in front of the Centro Cultural de Bélem. Within a week the typography (and all the complaining) slowly faded away.” – “Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far”, Stefan Sagmeister, 2008.
I liked the ephemeral nature of this work and how it’s message was conveyed by the lifecycle of the substrate on which it was displayed.
“Trying to Look Good Limits My Life”
“The billboards … were installed in groups so a viewer could see them all from a single vantage point. No product to promote, no service to sell – an advertisement made solely for the enjoyment of the audience.”
This piece was interesting because of the way it acts like an advertisement, but the message being advertised is very personal, is not selling a product or a brand, but is definitely promoting a clearly articulated idea to it’s audience.
“Money Does Not Make Me Happy”
“As viewers walked down the main pedestrian zone in Linz, they first noticed only the gigantic word money printed seven stories high on the pitch-black casino. Only as they passed the building and looked down the side street did the rest of the maxim reveal itself.”
Getting paid to promote the idea that money does not equal happiness must be the ultimate coup!
“Design has to work, art does not.”
Donald Judd, American minimalist
(Things That I Have Learned In My Life So Far – Stefan Sagmeister, 2008)