Geoderm - Part 2 (Anticlimax :/ )

            

I have found in my results what I would like to call a meaningful anticlimax. To be honest, my gesture had no lasting effect and was reduced to just a gesture. The lack of effect can be seen in a few perspectives. On the one hand, it is a definite affirmation of nature’s power. Shortly after I planted the red fluid, it rained, and the day after, and the next day, then it snowed. Nature literally drowned any hope of the plants suckling on the blood surrogate, and masked my influence. I have been examining another viewpoint as well. Given that the gardens and nature I injected are manmade, and the environment around is governed by man, was injecting the plants with fluid really changing anything? To clarify, can a glass of water be tainted by ice? My injection of man into nature was of no consequence as it was simply injecting humanity into a manmade construct.

            On a core level, this is in fact a manifestation of nature’s dominance. It may have been my error of the dosage or frequency that caused the want of effect. It may have been the inevitability of nature’s power that manifested over my small, small art project. It may have been a failure of man to communicate with nature; a primordial and eternal failure which lasts both less than a second and for all of time. It is a conflict, a struggle. We, as a race, fight against the course of nature such that we might preserve our beauty and prolong our lives. We have reason to rage against the dying of the light, it’s only natural.

            I contend, based on this idea that my project in many ways reflects on man’s attempt to live. With varied injections and methods, both specific and general, we attempt to shift and/or augment our reality. In the end, we find it inevitable that nature reclaims its matter. The universal continuum of matter need not be a religious concept, since we are all star stuff. These age-old platitudes mean less in the theoretical world than they do in the practical world, but they are signposts and essences of the modern day. 

Geoderm - Part 1

Geoderm 

“The only weapon of power, its only strategy against this defection, is to reinject the real and referential everywhere, to persuade us of the reality of the social, of the gravity of the economy and the finalities of production.”

-Baudrillard

Bear in mind Baudrillard’s words, as they are as important to understanding this project as the photos. While art must not (or at least should not) be put in terms of power, Baudrillard’s idea of defending society from banality and oblivion with reality stands true. The core of Earth Art stems from attempting to understand reality through our home. Earth Art is about communing with something greaten that ourselves without a leap of faith—a God of soil which is easily at hand. By observing and arting the processes, we project our own human qualities onto the natural world. We, as a people, society, or species, augment and modify the landscape such that it is made our own. In some cases it is a matter of power, but power capitalizes art into commodity (perhaps a topic for another essay). So it stands, Earth Art is a pure type of art that likens the Earth in our image. We observe our natural decay and death in the liminal spaces so scrutinized in this course. Like Humanity, Earth Art evolves and adapts to the cultural climate of the era. We experience trouble in defining Earth Art as it is not necessarily a style, or even a static method of thought. Earth Art of a generation reflects that generation’s humanity or culture. So Earth Art becomes a study of that generation as much as a study of the Earth.

We infuse our Humanity into works of the earth so that our home’s meaning may be intelligible. Geodermic is a representation of this which is clear and lucid. It is a literal infusion of man and man’s influence to the present environment. While literal, it is not entirely straightforward and uni-faceted. On the one hand, it can be seen as man’s interference in natural processes and the after-effects of such disturbance. It can be seen as man’s planting of ideas into unfamiliar locales and the end result of such and act. It can be seen as attempting to care for and fix the Earth, perhaps in a futile effort. None of these are entirely correct or incorrect, but meaning here is much simpler and more simply derived.

The gesture of a slight prick and injection of man into the Earth in a scientific way is the core meaning. This infusion of humanity to a nonhuman entity hopes to not only make the Earth palpable, but perhaps make humanity palpable to the Earth. This idea is less literal, since the Earth is not a sentient being. Rather, it is a hope for the cultures and denizens of the world to understand a singular and present idea of how land can be treated. Further, it reflects not an attempt to simulate an impossible (or at least improbable) connection with the Earth. Within the sphere of medicine, a transfusion of man to Earth or Earth to man is not possible—I have no qualms admitted the gesture is symbolic. Given this, Geoderm is an attempt to espouse ideas in the form of a simulacrum (imitation). The red-filled syringes do not literally equate to man’s blood being pushed to the ground; they are a symbol of man’s attempt and ineptitude at communicating ideas that extend beyond the rationale mind. That is to say, the arts and music propose transcensions of individual human limitations by sharing the experience of another. In terms of Earth Art, this is an exploration of how human(s) might communicate with bodies bigger, much bigger, than themselves.

Baudrillard’s ideas of injecting the real to places wrought with dis-knowledge and callowness is core to Earth art. Some gestures are massive and extroverted, double minus, and some art more delicate and introspective, Yucatan mirror displacement. Unlike other art forms, Earth art’s aim is to extend beyond the presentation of an idea or scene through another’s lens. Rather, it becomes a reference to a person’s whole humanity. Anna Mendieta comes very close to this idea, choosing one element core to her person to explore and put forth. My work, in this sense, reflects the environment through a sort of duality. On the one hand, the syringes reflect the medical and research focus that has pervaded my childhood and is very present in VCU. On the other hand, the red liquid, a blood simulacrum, references back to primal nature of humanity’s beast-hood; we are, when it comes down to it, simply rational beasts. Lastly, and perhaps most relevantly to Earth art, the effect (or lack thereof!) on the environment and life caused by the injections shows the dominance (or lack thereof!) of man over Earth. It goes beyond, however, a traditional battle or conflict; it becomes a study of the relationship and a communion. Infusing humanity over time reflects liminal interaction and change.

The issue remaining is a reflection of how these ideas manifest; the theory here is relatively sound. How can one show through visual art such a concept as injecting reality? It is most nearly a paradox, as some would quickly argue that creation of art itself lessens the effective reality to a simulation, or a best a simulacrum.

 

Travelogue 1/28 | Capitol Square, Richmond

Found Earth Art Cairn | Leftover materials

Artificial Light > Natural light. For now.

Three-Trunked-Tree, remember this.

 I went to Capitol Square in the hopes that I would discover something that juxtaposed a manicured, controlled garden with some sort of honest, un-tempered and raw character of nature. I discovered something not entirely different from expectations.

Following my original plan to capture something raw I left early, around 6:40am, in order to capture daybreak at the Capitol. When I got there, it was entirely deserted, and the sky was a delicate shade of lavender. Photography was difficult, not only because little light meant long exposures were necessary, but much the light was very flat as it was only rolling over from the east.

For my overall experience, this issue was necessary. This exploration allowed me to develop, more than my sense of contrast and similarity of manicured and raw nature (which is present in the photographs here), is some understanding of night and day.

Not yet broken.

Broken, also, excellent lens flare.

Certainly, I've seen sunrises and sunsets in the past; but never before had I understood the difference between the time preceding and succeeding dawn. Dawn and daybreak are truly liberating and grand. They are powerful and in many ways revolutionary.

I would like to tell you that watching dawn shatter this way is something subtle and delicate, but it is not. It is one of the boldest things I've ever seen, experienced. The "golden hour" that I went questing for in order to uncover nature's more honest character
turned out to be an honest embodiment nature in itself. For those of you who do not know what the "golden hour" is: it is the approximate first last hour of sunlight a day. I chose the first hour since I figured it would be quieter and more isolated. A big part of what looked at however did not simply revolve around the golden hour.

Rosa Parks Statute fading into treees.

As seen in some these photographs, sculptures around the Capitol building share an aesthetic: dark metal or stone on light bases with a typical memorial style throughout. They fit well and match, but can be viewed from certain angles in which the nature and these man-made sculptures, which I would not consider Earth art, interact in a way it is fascinating. Particularly in the statute with the man mounted, it is as though the tree seems to respond to the statue, or perhaps just the way I shot it.

Mounted Statue with Tree.

Returning to the golden hour, the best understanding of this experience and of night and day dawn and daybreak can be observed in the two photographs of the three trunked tree. The first, dark, slightly out of focus and shaking due to the long exposure is contrasted with the second, a literal explosion of light.

Falcon. Check out on the full resolution album
the sunlight in his underside.

The last necessary comment of my travelogue regards the importance of sound. There were, admittedly, cars and various man-made processes occurring during my exploration, but with a want of people and tourists, a lack of business and commerce occurring, I was able to notice things that I would not have been able to previously. Below is a short clip looking at the mounted statue aforementioned, and listening to birds sound nearby bird sounds. This video led me to realize that nearby was a falcon. Although is difficult to photograph, he serves as an apt metaphor for my experience. By going and looking for one style of thing, the expectations may not be wholly met; however, in remaining awake and alive, conscious of the world, one might just find something for which getting up at 6 AM is worth.

Three-Trunked-Tree 2.0

Introduction

This blog was created for my purposes in Earth Art, and will hopefully extend beyond this length of our 5 week course. I'm looking at themes which push the discrete boundaries on what is earth art; using elementalism in a broader sense to interact with nature.

In this sense, I have chosen my header image. This Barnett Newman Obelisk, part of a studio series of works, is not intrinsically earth art. It is stylized and controlled. As a steel sculpture it will not decay in a traditional sense. These obelisks change the landscape, and interact naturally with only precipitation. As the obelisks age and experience rainfall, the drops form patterns and streaks on the works. It is then the process and time of being presented which transforms these into earth art. Were they in a gallery or private collection, they would simply be sculpture.

An idea expressed in much of earth art is the examination of origins. Through reverting to original forms there is a certain unity created. I am interested in taking this one step further. To quote the profundity of Sagan, "We are all star stuff." A route of earth art yet unexplored may be chaos. More on this later.

Cheers,
Dylan