Saturday, June 23, 2012


Masaaki Noda: The Spirit of Hermes                                                                                                                   (Catalogue Essay – Marathon, Greece)

By Annie Wharton, Los Angeles, California, 2010

 “All of Noda’s works in fact involve purposive design and free flow, fused to suggest heroic determination and the timeless Tao.” – Donald Kuspit

The resolute determination Kuspit refers to is reflected in The Spirit of Hermes, a monumental gift Masaaki Noda has given to the city of Marathon, Greece. Via passion and feeling in his work, the artist seems to quote the raw emotion of Abstract Expressionist icons like Wassily Kandinsky or Jackson Pollock, while there also exists in his creative output a sensibility similar to mid-century Lyrical Abstractionists.  Upon closer look, however, highly polished surfaces and stylized, precisely machined lines reveal a delicate contradiction by use of a streamlined, Modernist approach to methodology. Each work is meticulously crafted and each sculptural component purposefully positioned, thereby rendering emotionality almost irrelevant.

Born in the aftermath of nuclear destruction in Hiroshima, Japan in 1949, Noda as a young artist moved to New York in 1977. He has since produced important works and exhibitions throughout the world and developed a sensitive East/West dialectic along the way. His bird-like sculptural flames reach high into the atmosphere, bringing to mind a variety of references -- the contemplative sculptures of Brancusi, Los Angeles low-rider automobiles painted with airbrushed flaming iconography, and Tang dynasty-era Chinese ribbon dancing. This fluid commingling of divergent artistic styles and materials reveal Noda’s dichotomous approach to working with extremely heavy materials like steel or marble with the thoughtful sensitivity of a Japanese Sumi painter. Losing their excessive weight via careful choreography, hard and heavy media become airy and light as his forms dance and emanate the infinite gesture of time.

The Spirit of Hermes, his newest public art piece, installed at the starting point for the Olympic marathon, succinctly brings Noda’s stylistic production to contemporary society. Hermes (also referred to by the Romans as “Mercury”), in addition to being Zeus’ herald and the patron of Greek gymnastic games, was the multi-talented god of animal husbandry, roads, travel, hospitality, heralds, diplomacy, trade, thievery, language, writing, persuasion, cunning wiles, astronomy, and astrology. He wore winged boots and sometimes a winged cap that he used to fly between the mortal and immortal worlds, and Noda alludes to this flight with arching spontaneity and grace that traces the ludic gestural prehension of infinity.

In ancient Greece, boundary marking stones called “Hermai” were square pillars carved with ithyphallic images of Hermes and served as rural markers erected at crossroads and in gymnasia as apotropes for good luck. The speed and virility of Hermes’ legend is reified through Noda’s sleek and sexy modalities, and the sculpture particularly resonates by virtue of its placement where many athletes begin their heroic 42.195 kilometer journey.

Noda’s formalist approach shows the artist as a maker of objects whose aspirations supersede the thing as end in its self. Rather, Noda engages a reunification of techne and poiesis—the art and craft of bringing forth....

In Noda's Formalism one is reminded of Plato, who posed “eidos” as the “theory of forms,” a theory to resist the natural cycle of decay. Plato's resolve was to counter the notion amongst his contemporaries concerning the perceived problems with material flux and the affection of ideas, and posited that ideas exist apart from the material world and within the continuous unbroken line of inherited knowledge, thereby causing ideas to become durable—simply put, physical objects decay where as ideas endure. However, as much as western civilization has traditionally desired the sustainable, we can also view this wanton superiority of the head over the hand with a grain of salt. For as much as this sort of philosophical tradition might seem anachronistic, we have come to view the necessity of the artist hand to remind us of changing minds.

In viewing The Spirit of Hermes, one also encounters Heidegger’s concept that the fundamental temporalizing structures of human experience [relational totality] are not staid idealized forms, but in a state of constant historical flux (and are thus not fixed and universal).

The reflective attributes in Noda's work makes the viewer an intrinsic component to the overall visual experience; the mirror-like stainless steel adds the observer to the equation and gives greater dimensionality and depth. The act of seeing the sculpture outdoors in Marathon changes infinitely—weather conditions, time of day or night, angle or distance from the artwork, even the height of the person looking, have the potential to change the meaning and perception of the piece. This myriad of ways to see a work of art ultimately creates a unique encounter for each viewer/participant in Masaaki’s interactive endeavor.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Video Dada @ UCI



Shana Moulton, Whispering Pines 8, 2008

Since the arrival of the Sony CV-2000 camera/recorder unit in 1965 (weighing in at a trim 66 pounds), artists have been able to use cameras as an extension of their bodies to create video artworks. The “Video Dada” exhibition at UC Irvine’s University Gallery doesn’t include all of the works committed to tape, disc and memory card since then—it only feels like it does.
Seriously, is curator/UC Irvine faculty member Martha Gever trying to short-circuit our collective minds? The sheer multitude of works on display—more than 300 videos—is daunting to say the least. Culled from Gever’s own research, YouTube searches and the recommendations of other artists, the show “surveys the Internet’s amalgamation of popular culture and art, calling into question the difference between the two,“ Gever states in her brochure for the exhibition.
And the show is as stylistically and thematically diverse as it is sprawling, exploring such varied topics as sexuality, politics, drama, feminism, pop culture, animation, multiculturalism and comic relief—the sheer size of the exhibition speaks to the diversity of the medium.
The term “Dada” originated in Zurich in 1916, and the artists in the European movement eschewed the quotidian and capitalist for the nonsensical and thought-provoking. Combining an irreverent disdain for bourgeoisie lifestyle, idiosyncratic art practices and the ability to piss people off, Dada helped to turn art of its era on its head. While Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray were the most-recognized figures in Dada, the best-known woman in the movement was Berlin-based Hannah Höch, whose meticulous, amusing collages combined faceless women and machine parts to create a proto-feminist precursor to our current third wave. From abstract stratification to cut-and-paste iMovie or Final Cut editing, the Höch-inspired methodology of collage is ubiquitous in “Video Dada.”
One post-structuralist working in collage is Shana Moulton, whose surreal Whispering Pines 8  sees the protagonist—Cynthia, a reclusive hypochondriac who searches for solace via New Age self-help devices—making sand mandalas and arranging crystals on a journey into her subconscious. The mannered, droll piece deftly melds a campy combination of form and idea while establishing Moulton’s humorous and sensitive relationship to her craft.
New York magazine called Kalup Linzy a “key figure in a new generation of queer video artists.” Linzy’s videos find the artist in various states of drag in a series of soap opera-inspired pieces called Conversations Wit de Churen, where the artist plays most of the characters and does voice-overs for the others. “Video Dada” features eight of his works, each one trumping the next with elaborate sound-editing technique, maudlin affectation and self-satirical paradigm.
Commissioned by the Long Beach Museum in 1979, Nancy Buchanan’s vintage work These Creatures captures a sequence of sexually stereotyped vignettes. Using saccharine iconography and a didactic male voice-over, this second-wave feminist created the video as “an anti-ad for patriarchal attitudes,” according to a recent REDCAT catalog text, and the age at which the original videotape was transferred to digital media has added a beautiful blue tinge to the witty and political piece.
Two contributions critique the very conduit for many of the videos in the show, the Internet, and delve into issues of piracy and copyright. The band Negativland have been sued twice for copyright infringement, most notoriously for sampling U2, and founding member Mark Hosler will address these issues in a performance at the UCI campus on Feb. 4 (see the Calendar section of this issue). Annika Larsson’s video Pirate shows a gorgeous, slow-motion capture of a protest against a ban on downloading music and videos by the Swedish political Pirate Party, who have since been able to garner two seats in the European parliament.
Other show highlights include LA-based artists Miranda July and Marc Horowitz, and Israeli artists Keren Cytter and Guy Ben-Ner, but not every video in the exhibition warrants the valuable real estate of a place on the wall. Some of the video game-inspired works seem pedestrian and others in the program appear hurriedly made. Still, with a tiny budget, Gever does provide a democratic platform for the display of work. She enlisted fellow UCI professor Yvonne Rainer and some graduate students to reformat the “white cube” aesthetic of the gallery using scholarly texts handwritten in markers on the wall. The scrawled quotes of thinkers like Walter Benjamin and Andrea Fraser create a cohesive milieu for the time-based mash-ups playing on eight screens and four smaller monitors in the room.
Southern California has seen several important group video exhibitions within the last couple years, including “California Video”at the Getty, “Video Journeys” at Cottage Home and “The Best of Loop: Remote Viewing,” currently on view at the Pacific Design Center in Los Angeles. This university show doesn’t attempt to surpass these exhibitions, but somehow its quirky mélange of hundreds of time-based works and smart exhibition essay does lift it into their realm.
“Video Dada” At UC Irvine’s University Art Gallery, 712 Arts Plaza, Irvine, (949) 824-9854; www.ucigallery.com. Tues.-Sat., noon-5 p.m. .