Week 8: I'd Rather Be Bowling?

John Feodorov transforms "'sacred' items into recognizable consumer products." With a background in painting and drawing, his three dimensional works take on meaning all their own, interacting and analyzing the relationship between identity, power, spirituality and consumerism. In "Totem Teddy" Feodorov's putting the spirituality back into an everyday object, one that has an inherent meaning/identity as a teddy bear, and then when it's transformed into this totem/spiritual thing, adorned with unusual objects, embellished with seashells or something, it's meaning as a teddy is there, yes, but I think another layer of meaning is juxtaposed on top of it. Maybe the meaning is spiritual, maybe it's consumerist or anti-consumerist, identity based, maybe it's all of these things. I think that's the beauty of his work, that he has the ability to embed meaning and layer identity into a piece or a painting or a video that gets your internal dialogue talking, thinking, reflecting.

It's a Fence, But You Can Wear It If You Want To...

Throughout his work, it is clear that Feodorov expands on the human search for meaning and identity. His paintings are ambiguous, mysterious and whimsical, causing the viewer to create a dialogue of meaning for themselves inside their own heads, a dialogue that, in actuality, does not exist outside of the person's head. It's all about the viewer creating a dialogue in their own way, space, and time, using what they see in front of them to search for meanings beyond the two dimensional. The participation is more internal. For example, in his painting "Office Deity" he uses humor to depict this kind of moral and corporate power struggle, causing the viewer of the piece to reflect on the relationship of power in corporate america. In turn, the internal interaction with this piece may cause the viewer to question their own identity in their work environment. The installations and interactive pieces seem more participatory externally, in the sense that the work, such as "Animal Spirit Channeling Device for the Contemporary Shaman", plays with the relationship between human connectivity and consumerism/capitalism. There's more of an outward and intentional interpretation and subsequent analyzation of the relationship between consumer and product, between identity and consumer, between identity of the product and the identity of the consumer, between control and commodification.  Feodorov says, "For some reason spirituality is an important part of what I make, not necessarily how I live, but of what I can create" which I think aptly describes his relationship with art. There's definitely a spiritual element present, manifesting itself in different ways throughout different pieces, and yet at the same time I don't think his pieces are meant to be spiritually innate or explicit. Feodorov says that spirituality interests him, so obviously it's expected to be seen in his work, but he says it's something that he doesn't want to "be", rather he sees spirituality as something he's unable to ignore, and thus, the spiritual element manifests itself into his work. There's a real ambiguity and vagueness to it though, in the sense that it's not black or white, all or nothing: instead, it's shades of gray, the not knowing, the examination of the space in between.

Who do you think I am? Why wouldn't I want to crush my OWN cup?!

Yes, there is a deep and clear sense of spirituality, but I think it comes about more sub consciously than anything. As for bringing the precious and delicate into the everyday life, and what it's implications have on the shaping and/or recognition of certain identities, I think Feodorov illustrates it best when he recalls: "I remember when I was a kid, when my grandfather passed away, I remember in the funeral they were laying all these really beautiful pieces of jewelry, Navajo blankets, and pieces of pottery in the coffin, and I remember being really, really touched by that. And that had a profound effect on me." As Feodorov mentions above, there's this comforting, beautiful, aesthetically pleasing, almost magical feeling in the act of adornment, whether we're adorning ourselves with jewelry or body piercings, or adorning a coffin at a funeral. We could just leave everything plain vanilla, no mint chocolate chip or banana nut chunk, but we don't. So this begs the question: why? Why do we adorn ourselves? We do we embellish our lives? Because it's beautiful, that's why. And more than that, because these aesthetically pleasing adornments are an expression of ourselves, of our creativity, of our individuality, of our identity. And the expression of identity is powerful, profound, magical, in all the ways it manifests itself.

On the subject of ownership and power, I think we've got to dig deeper into what ownership represents and what having power over an object signifies in a cultural and social and consumerism driven society. Feodorov says: "Owning an object gives someone power over that object, turns the power that it once had into the only power it ends up having, maybe accentuating the pattern in the sofa." That is to say, that when we consciously choose to take ownership over some object, we are consciously choosing to exercise our control, our ability to make something our own. This hierarchical system of ownership and power is a manifestation of how we perceive ourselves, in that we believe we have the power to take ownership over something, and so we do. It's not only an expression of our inherent need to exercise the power we think we have, but also to express our consumerist identity.

Ohhh, that's where the fork goes... 

Anya Kivarkis highlighted three methods of production, those which I think relate seamlessly with Feodorov's method of making art. His paintings don't necessarily fall into the "handmade reproduction/original copies" explicitly, because I think they're all his own ideas and thoughts transferred on to canvas, with little inspiration coming from one particular piece. And I'm honestly not sure how to classify his works, such as "Animal Spirit Channeling Device for the Contemporary Shaman", "Office Shaman", or the angel (from the "Angels With Crosses and Bullets" installation) because they seem to be a mix of the 'original copies' catergory (although they aren't explicitly coping one object) and the 'post-production with intervention' category because often times he's taking everyday objects and transforming them into something new, with a different meaning attached to it. Okay, okay, now that I think about it actually, when I reallllllly sit down and reflect on what category some of Feodorov's works pertain to, it's definitely 'post-production with intervention' because he's intentionally using ordinary materials and cultural objects that we're familiar with to create a new meaning, as seen in "Animal Spirit Channeling Device for the Contemporary Shaman." He's taking an everyday, recognizable object (in this case, a childhood toy), and turning it's identity on its head, so that there's a kind of muddied or ambiguous meaning. The cultural object retains its original identity and at the same time takes on a new, more powerful meaning when adorned with feathers. There's the cultural meaning of the original object, coupled with the fact that it's a consumerist driven object that can be owned, and then Feodorov takes it one step further by embellishing it with another everyday object (feathers), easily recognizable and that has it's own meaning already attached, and then he fuses these two things together to create an object laced with consumerism, flooded with ambiguity, and embedded with opposing meanings and identities, making the viewer of the work define the gray area for themselves.




SOMETHING THAT MADE ME LAUGH:

     Art 21 asks:

	Why does anyone choose to become an artist?     And Feodorov says:
	You're asking hard questions. I don't know. I ask myself that all the time. Would I be a lot happier if I went bowling?  [I think we can all relate in some way or another. Or maybe it's just me. But in theory I'm sure I'd be a lot happier bowling- on paper the odds are good. But put me in those smelly shoes and give me a 10 pound orb and I'm pretty sure I'd be miserable.]

Week 8: The Aesthetics of Everyday Life

This week, I am struggling to find the words to adequately convey my feelings, thoughts, and issues with this weeks readings and presentation. Perhaps it's because I have a lot on my plate, academically speaking of course, or perhaps its the live streaming of Christmas music I've been listening to for 15 hours straight, but the words are escaping me. All I can think is "fa la la la la la" "gramma got ran over by a reindeer"... But I digress.  Hmm, on second thought, maybe I don't digress. Maybe I'm on to something here with this whole Christmas thing. I think I am. I think my traditions are art in it's most noble form. I've never thought of Christmas traditions as art. But that's all changing right now.

 This time of year, for me, is the most beautiful, warm, creative, uplifting time. Things in my world shine and sparkle exceptionally bright during the winter months. I love the traditions, the family gatherings, the huge meals complete with grandpa's caramel squares and my mom's homemade stuffing. Quite simply, the months of November and December cannot be beat. There is something so inherently magical and soulful about them, something so comforting and renewing. All these traditions, however aesthetically pleasing or functional they are, are essential to a merry Christmas, crucial to our lives. Because they nurture us, they cultivate a sense of connection to our family and to our lives and to our souls. We create our life, our experiences, our values, through these traditions. We listen to the same Christmas cd every year- A Charlie Brown Christmas. We eat the same foods every year, even, much to my chagrin, grandma's infamous jello salad. (One year I had a boyfriend over to grams for Thanksgiving-she served him up a good ole helping of jello salad, and needless to say, said boy and I are no longer dating). We hang our stockings in the same order every year. And we almost always wear our same "holiday" outfit every christmas eve. And for all this, I am forever grateful. I have deep gratitude for my family, for the traditions they've passed down to me, and the traditions they've created for me. It makes my life so rich and wonderful, so comforting and , to know that every year, even if everything else has changed, we'll be watching Griswald Family Vacation around 6pm on Christmas Day, in our pjs, because it's a tradition- and our most favorite movie as a family.

 You see, there's such a deep and rich connection that we feel with these traditions; the aesthetics of it, the stringing of the popcorn and the trimming of the tree, the form of it, basting the turkey and whipping the mashed potatoes to a creamy decadence. It's this living of life for both the pleasure and the functionality of it that we experience around the holidays, that for me, makes me glow. The deep rooted traditions, the history of it all, the anticipation of it all. And it makes for an incredibly satisfying life experience. Isn't that what it's all about?

For Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, we shouldn't define art as having to be something strictly aesthetically pleasing; instead we should assign "form to value."  The institution tries to speak for everyone, make claims and classify what art is and how it should function, for not only itself but for everyone else/everything else, while simultaneously asserting itself as distinct and above all the "Others." This marginalization of space and time, of aesthetics and functionality, that they cannot exist equally and beautifully, limits art in all ways. This limits how the aesthetics in our every day function, because we don't see our social interactions or our family traditions as functional and beautiful art; in fact, we don't view it as art at all. The institution has instilled in our minds, that our day to day lives, and our actions and interactions within them, are average, and pale in comparison to the grand show pieces in museums. But that's not true. I'm learning that, for me, art is most beautiful when it's uninhibited and pure, when it has an aesthetic component and a functional component. For Tannaz, it is an interesting evolution of the art and the life, and how the two function together. With her journey from Iran to the US, her identity was transformed. I found the use of her cultural identity as it relates to spatial time in her art very powerful. For me, Tannaz is cultivating this awareness of identity and time and the possibilities that it provides. With the nature of art in daily life and social interaction, we should realize these possibilities in the everyday life. Like the possibility of improvision when it comes to making gravy (you know it never turns out quite like you want it to- too much flour, not enough turkey drippings). This art of living as improvision, doing what works, getting innovative and deliberate in how we are living and what we are doing, in both the aesthetic and functional aspects of living, I think, is the essence of what tradition is made of. We utilize these traditions, or simple rituals, in our every day lives, creating something wonderfully dynamic and nourishing for our creative spirits. And in doing so, I think, we are assigning form to value in our every day lives.