I posted this piece a few years ago on another blog, and I have been working on getting some of this stuff consolidated before I add more to this blog. Looking Glass is looking very exciting this year. This piece is a little wordy and at times bitchy, but it gets there.
The Librarian's Lament
Holly Senn installation- Gallery @ the Jupiter, Portland Oregon September 7 - October 2, 2012
"Inhabit"
It is the problem of the artist to fashion a vision of the world that is both comprehensive in its scope and uniquely personal. More often than not, an artist finds themselves caught between these expectations, and a body of created work falls short. Holly Senn's exhibition at the Jupiter Gallery proposes itself as a site responsive installation exploring the intersection of permanence and impermanence in the consideration of forms between ideas and habitation. The exhibition consists of a series of sculptural forms constructed from the pages of books. These forms are hollow, smallish, yellowish, roundish, natural and vaguely feminine. In most respects they are fashioned after the nests of wrens, wasps, swallows, and hornets, and bookended by tied bundles of dead saplings attached to the walls. Some of the forms in the exhibition reference flowers and others reference more architectural motifs like grids. Upon close examination, it is easy to admire the gentleness and care the artist uses in the manufacture of her forms. You can tell Senn has a respect for the natural progression of time and a love for the yellowed pages of old books. Taken as a whole, there is a kind of agrestal cataloguing that the artist uses her forms to conceptualize, with the text of the manuscripts acting as a word webbing unifying one piece to the next. More importantly, the exhibition considers a marriage of culture and nature, but the outcome of the work as a whole produces a muddy, indistinct message that is marred by an understated emotionality and a lack of intensity in its formal execution. I found this puzzling, because the exhibition as a whole feels like territory in which the artist is very comfortable. Spending time with the exhibit, you begin to realize that the artist has taken no great risks with her creations, nor has she successfully exploited considerations of space and lighting to maximize the forms in her installation. In fact, the lack of consideration of lighting both within and outside these pieces is the most glaring exposure of the artists unwillingness to push beyond her comfort zones and consider drama as a vital part of an installation's success. I also find a certain level of chicanery in the presentation of this work with its veneer of intellectualism. Whereas a real personal involvement of the artist with her work would tell a more interesting story that could have dispensed with the need to bookend her creations with buzz words, the artist has chosen to coat her reticence with text, and allow the inherent drive of her forms to go fallow. I would have appreciated more openness and honesty in this regard, especially more exposure to risk, since it is evident that the artist's handling of fine detail and the subtleties of form is lacking to make the presented conceptualism of the work more vigorous. I wanted to like this exhibition. I am sympathetic to the artist's concerns about the limitations of the value of knowledge in our culture. But ultimately, I found myself thinking of Burgess Meredith in the Twilight Zone episode where the book lover is left with the pleasure of his books, a desolate world, endless time, and a broken pair of glasses. Unfortunately, in this exhibition the artist has made the viewer into a broken pair of glasses, and we are left mourning the lost time and the lack of clarity that would have allowed the viewer to truly inhabit her promising forms.
"Inhabit"
It is the problem of the artist to fashion a vision of the world that is both comprehensive in its scope and uniquely personal. More often than not, an artist finds themselves caught between these expectations, and a body of created work falls short. Holly Senn's exhibition at the Jupiter Gallery proposes itself as a site responsive installation exploring the intersection of permanence and impermanence in the consideration of forms between ideas and habitation. The exhibition consists of a series of sculptural forms constructed from the pages of books. These forms are hollow, smallish, yellowish, roundish, natural and vaguely feminine. In most respects they are fashioned after the nests of wrens, wasps, swallows, and hornets, and bookended by tied bundles of dead saplings attached to the walls. Some of the forms in the exhibition reference flowers and others reference more architectural motifs like grids. Upon close examination, it is easy to admire the gentleness and care the artist uses in the manufacture of her forms. You can tell Senn has a respect for the natural progression of time and a love for the yellowed pages of old books. Taken as a whole, there is a kind of agrestal cataloguing that the artist uses her forms to conceptualize, with the text of the manuscripts acting as a word webbing unifying one piece to the next. More importantly, the exhibition considers a marriage of culture and nature, but the outcome of the work as a whole produces a muddy, indistinct message that is marred by an understated emotionality and a lack of intensity in its formal execution. I found this puzzling, because the exhibition as a whole feels like territory in which the artist is very comfortable. Spending time with the exhibit, you begin to realize that the artist has taken no great risks with her creations, nor has she successfully exploited considerations of space and lighting to maximize the forms in her installation. In fact, the lack of consideration of lighting both within and outside these pieces is the most glaring exposure of the artists unwillingness to push beyond her comfort zones and consider drama as a vital part of an installation's success. I also find a certain level of chicanery in the presentation of this work with its veneer of intellectualism. Whereas a real personal involvement of the artist with her work would tell a more interesting story that could have dispensed with the need to bookend her creations with buzz words, the artist has chosen to coat her reticence with text, and allow the inherent drive of her forms to go fallow. I would have appreciated more openness and honesty in this regard, especially more exposure to risk, since it is evident that the artist's handling of fine detail and the subtleties of form is lacking to make the presented conceptualism of the work more vigorous. I wanted to like this exhibition. I am sympathetic to the artist's concerns about the limitations of the value of knowledge in our culture. But ultimately, I found myself thinking of Burgess Meredith in the Twilight Zone episode where the book lover is left with the pleasure of his books, a desolate world, endless time, and a broken pair of glasses. Unfortunately, in this exhibition the artist has made the viewer into a broken pair of glasses, and we are left mourning the lost time and the lack of clarity that would have allowed the viewer to truly inhabit her promising forms.
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