The Zone
I love this piece and I’m showing it to you because I’m itching to get back to the quick and immediate; raw and abstract in my work. Maybe even primitive. No perseverating over choices of form, line and color. This sculpture oozes of essence and authenticity in its abstraction of narrative. And, I’m excited to see how the creative process that led to this piece, may influence my painting.
I’m taking you back to the year 2011. I was on the board of The Washington Sculptors Group. The president of the organization invited me and two other board members to her studio for a couple day experiential retreat. Her studio was magnificent - literally at a grand country estate and mansion at the edge of an enchanted woods. The focus was: “Finding Our Zone.” She instructed each of us to bring objects and hand tools of any type. Whatever we wanted. No purpose or objective in mind. The morning of the first day was spent discussing what “The Zone” is and how to find it. Then we were each charged with finding our respective “Zone” by creating a work of art from the random selection of objects and tools we had brought.
The following is directly out of my 2011 art journal, written shortly after the retreat:
My Zone:
Leave the path, enter the woods of the unknown; it will be slippery;
Move without motive
Mindless Intuition
I showed this piece “Wheelchair Bound” or “Wheel Chair Bound”, at my studio critique* this past weekend. My fellow artists loved the piece and loved the title. They didn’t know the story, didn’t see it as a man in a wheelchair and sill loved it. They said they could feel a sense of urgency and an immediacy in the piece; they saw a rawness and purity in it. They didn’t want to know more; they didn’t want to know the story; they didn’t want to know, as an example, that the tree bark was “a nose”. They wanted to be able to see it as maybe a bird that crashed into it. I could have sculpted a beautiful nose and their response would have been: “Oh that’s a nice nose”; and that would have been the extent of their interest. They were excited being with the question, without being given the answer.
With this being said, I still don’t understand what captivated them in its abstractness?
I was told that my talent in sculpting realistically ironically works against me. It seems that my standards and my ability to render realistic images get in my way. My fellow artists feel I can give too much information in my work and my best work is when I give less, keeping it raw and unpolished. They want to have freedom to interpret and explore, not be limited by specifics.
The feedback that I got was that my work is at its best when I am handicapped and my significant sculpting abilities are disabled. As I write this, I’m struck that this piece may be expressing just that - it is a man in a wheelchair to me and I need to become this man in a wheelchair metaphorically, in the way I approach my art. It sounds bizarre but maybe there is something to it?? Maybe I need to sculpt without the use of my hands?? Maybe I should try doing it blindfolded!?
I have to admit this is confusing for me. Pattie (fellow board member/artist) offered an encouraging comment: “ Barry, we “human bodies” will easily relate to the human bodies within your work”. Maybe this is part of it, maybe my studio artists feel or recognize something viscerally in the abstractness of this piece that doesn’t need words or explanation to get. Maybe it’s about feeling the work vs knowing intellectually what it is. The million-dollar question is how to move forward from here.
Anyway, this is a lot of food for thought.
* At the time, my art studio was part of The Red Dirt - an incubator studio with a dozen independently working emerging artists. It was truly an exciting place to be. The converted warehouse in Mount Rainier, MD exploded with drive, passion and creative energy. Led by renowned artist Margaret Boozer, we met weekly to discuss our respective paths and progress. And, there were regular critiques by Margaret and my fellow resident artists. The expectations were high for accomplishment which raised the bar for us all.
For me, getting into “My Zone” meant (and still means) leaving the path of the familiar and known and embracing the unknowing. Moving through my fears. Uncomfortable for sure. The uncertainty of what may come and why I’m even doing what I’m doing are surely challenging obstacles. For those familiar, it can be a Joseph Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey.” It involves following my urges and letting go of my need for purpose and meaning. Its becomes a total immersion of my being. It involves quieting the constant judging voice in my mind to allow my knowing hands to move in auto-pilot with materials and tools. I don’t know what to call it - maybe a combination of in-the-moment attraction, mindlessness, instinct and intuition?? It’s definitely a zone of some sort. And, it’s quite exciting when I get into it!