Back at that Kiki Smith exhibition in Paris’s La Monnaie last December. . . as with another exhibition of feminist art I visited in the same institution the December before last, the impressive courtyard hosted several sculptures. Above and below, Smith’s uncanny Alice in Wonderland, a six-foot bronze sculpture (apparently that soft white patina comes from autobody paint). Having viewed Alice here framed by the French Neoclassical architecture of an 18th-century building, I was interested by this article’s focus on the “interruption” a sculpture can make to its setting, an observation made about its placement in a very different environment.
Above and below, Mary Magdalene. . . There’s a wonderful interview here from a 1994 issue of BOMB Magazine, a conversation between Chuck Close and Kiki Smith about her inspiration for this sculpture. Apparently, she drew on early Renaissance and Gothic sculpture in Southern Germany which depicted Mary Magdalene as a wild woman, covered in hair. Read the article to find what Mary Magdalene is gazing at.
And then inside the building . . . which obviously is a pleasure to visit in its own right, and makes a spectacular setting for art. Particularly, in my view, for art that’s disruptive, that more than hints at chaos and thus makes a fascinating dialectic with the solidity and order and containment of the architectural regularity.
Hanging above this magnificent staircase, the 2011 mobile sculpture Sun, Moon, Stars and Cloud (Aluminium with gold, silver, and Japanese leaf).
And just to the right of that landing, if I remember correctly, just beyond those pillars near the poster with the words Kiki Smith, in a tranquil alcove, this sculpture entitled Pause (2003).
It’s a porcelain sculpture, conceived in response to an invitation from the contemporary artist Coi Guo-Qiang to exhibit inside an ancient wood-burning dragon kiln. . . . The work originally consisted of nine identical porcelain elements laid out in a line along the distinctive slope of these huge kilns. For Kiki Smith, these repeated images of a seated female figure evoke the succession of separate frames that ultimately constitute a film (from the interpretative plaque at La Monnaie).
Throughout the exhibition, I was fascinated by Smith’s range — of materials, of scale, of technique. Themes were drawn from the natural world as well as from folk and fairy tale, from religion (Catholic iconography in particular), from mythology. . . .
You get a sense of what I mean here when I move from the larger sculptures to these works displayed in a cabinet. . . (but I wish I’d taken many more photos of her print-making, of her disturbing and compelling representations of the body, often in pieces)
Below, Forager A, 2017, Gold plated bronze. . .
The building, always, inflected my experience of the often quite subversive work, and I tried to capture that in this photo of me reflected in a mirror, in front of windows through which I could see the Seine. . . .
And below, a better view of the arresting sculpture you can see behind me in that mirror above. . .
The Untitled work from 1995 is made of Brown paper, methyl cellulose, and horsehair, as the interpretative plaque tells us. The plaque further advises that The slumped body of Christ in a crucifix hanging in the home of an acquaintance prompted Kiki Smith to reinvent this iconography in a visually astounding work. Combining a cast of the upper part of her own body with one of the lower body of a male neighbor, she gave birth to a new kind of crucifixion. Representation of the human body is indivisible in her work from reflection on the central place it occupies in the Catholic religion. The use of papier-mâché enables her to capture the physical appearance of the skin while offering a metaphorical approach to the same as an eminently fragile, vulnerable, and perishable boundary.
Having been raised Catholic is a central influence in Smith’s work. There’s a wonderful (and fairly short)interview in the invaluable Art21 online journal of contemporary art about this — the quotation on the wall behind this sculpture (you can see it to the right of the window) comes from that interview: Art and Catholicism have gone well together because both believe in the possible physical manifestations of the invisible world.
This 2010 bronze sculpture entitled Annunciation is another example of Catholicism’s influence in her work, however subversively it manifests. The moment when the Angel Gabriel “announces” to the Virgin Mary that she has been chosen to bear the Son of God: a quick Google Images search will establish clearly the abundance of art this moment has inspired throughout the History of European/Christian/Western Art. And returning eyes to this sculpture will have no doubt it interrupts the iconography significantly.
If we then turn our eyes to the interpretative plaque provided, we learn that the sculpture’s androgyny was inspired by a chance encounter with a short-haired female artist dressed as a man which enounter, in turn, caused Smith to think of Frida Kahlo’s Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair. Pop off and have a look at that, if you’d like, and come back to recognize the pose transferred from Kahlo’s 1940 painting into Smith’s 2010 sculpture. The curator of this exhibition tells us that the figure can thus be seen also as an incarnation of the artist face to face with creative inspiration, the invisible energy that she raises her hand to receive. Apparently, the image reappears in bronzes of different sizes as well as in a series of drawings.
Revisiting this exhibition to share it with you, it turns out, is richly rewarding for me. It’s allowing me to integrate my visit to La Monnaie in ways not available during that oddly compressed time of travel and then the jolting re-entry into my “normal life.” I’m going to prolong the process for one more post, I’ve decided, but I’ll probably take another week or so to put that together. Meanwhile, I’m thinking perhaps a post or two about what we’ve all been doing as we’ve slowed down and moved indoors. . .
Before I go, one important note: I realize I haven’t been as consistent about responding to comments as I once was. Especially with the added time spent communicating with family and friends during this time of social distancing, I’m finding I need to ration not so much the screen time but more the keyboarding/texting time. My wrist-elbow-shoulder system on my right arm whimpers from time to time and I’m listening to the warning signals. I read every comment, and I love seeing that you chat with each other, but out of self-preservation I may be stingy with my own responses. I know you understand. . . . what I’m not sure you understand is how important and how sustaining those comments are, particularly for those of us who are not monetized. The comments are such a tangible measure of our worth as bloggers — but then, yes, we tend to feel obligated to respond. I’m currently grappling with the difficult math of this: the pleasure I take in your comments balanced against the work it takes to respond to them (and the ensuing guilt if I don’t). . .
That said, I would love to read any comment you care to leave, below. . . and I wish I had an assistant who could keyboard all my responses to you. . .
xo,
f
All listen to this, please
youtube.com/watch?v=Z-SyZiwXKs0&feature=youtu.be&mc_cid=b2aab9c0fe&mc_eid=9a565d24ef
Giulia
Giulia, I resent this immensely. The only times you have ever commented here are to make strident exhorttions. You give no indication that you value the ongoing community here except to lecture us. You've never left an appreciatiye comment about the work that goes into building and maintaining a blog and its community, yet you take advantage of that work I have done over many, many years to advertise your message. We have all heard the messages about the Coronavirus and as worthy as the one you've linked to might be, it becomes Spam when you steal broadcasting space here. Walking into a room where an ongoing conversation is taking place, would you interrupt so rudely, barking out your order (the please, tagged on to your commend is illusory, at best), then leave, no curiosity or concern or engagement except for your own message? The action is equally rude here. Build your own platforms if shouting is so important to you. But I think it's much better to honour your audience's intelligence and to wait for teachable moments. This isn't one.
I have no idea of what might be in the above youtube link, as I have no intention of opening it. I hope your response makes the sender think twice! As for feeling guilty about not responding to comments, please don't. I've always been impressed by your responses, but also a little worried on your behalf about the time and effort that must go into that aspect. The effort that you put into your blog alone is impressive, as today's tour of the Kiki Smith exhibit proves. Thank you for all you do. (no response required!)
Frances in Sidney
As for Giulia’s comment: you have made you point very clear and you are absolutely right in my opinion. This is your space, we are the guests. Irrupting in the way G. did is as rude as it is counterproductive.
I missed the moment to comment on your other post about Kiki Smith’s tapestries. I had to look up the word „uncanny“ then and for me it sums up what I see here, too. This is no judgement on quality, just a description of my first reaction: fear in varying quantities. Reading the interview about Smith’s fascination for human insides and dead bodies did not really help either. And the papier-maché sculpture of the hanging figure makes my blood run cold. „Torture“ is the only thing that comes to mind. I am quite aware of the religious connotations, and I can appreciate the intellectual challenge of finding connections to different iconogaphies. But that does not help my basic feeling that this is food for nightmares – for me.
Thanks so much for these images of KS's work–inspiring and beautiful. I listened to her talk about the tapestries too. I loved hearing the articulation of artistic thinking/being. She's so plainspoken and down to earth.
My god that crucifixion! Powerful beyond words.
I don't often comment (I think the last was on your husband acquiring Virginia Creeper vines), but I read all of your posts. They come to me in Virginia around midnight when I am almost finished for the day. You are like a friend joining me at this hour. I am not apprehensive about opening your posts this late at night, before bed. I am in a college town albeit a rural area outside of my town. I can't readily access the arts and museums. Your posts allow me to travel with you- to places where I don't think I will ever physically be able to go. Your comments give me pause to think and reflect on your photos which I very much enjoy. I enjoy how you call your grands by their ages. So, even though you don't hear from me very often, I am here. Thank you.
I'd somehow missed La Monnaie until we were in Paris in January of 2018 and went to lunch at Guy Savoy (we lucked into the 99 euro lunch, which they offer to 1 table per day). There were hwge sculptures in the courtyard, by Louise Bourgeis and Shen Yan, among others, which sucked us into the show. I adored the juxtaposition of the modern feminist works in a very old (traditionally masculine) setting, and it looks like the Kiki Smith show had that same energy.
Frances, have you looked into using voice software for some of your keying? I have several author friends for whom it has been a godsend.
I love it when you talk about art. I know very little about art of any kind, but I love "disruptive" art as you call it. We used to have a wonderful young, and very cool, tour guide at the National Gallery here in Ottawa, and I would take my creative writing class for a tour of the modern art section each year. I'd always ask for him. He knew just how to talk to sixteen-year-olds. And they alwyas left with their preconceptions about art blown out of the water. Maybe while we are in this suspended state of animation, I should educate myself a little. Right after I get around to hemming Hubby's pants, which I have been putting off for a while. No excuses now. Ha.
xo
Just sitting down to type a response about your sore hands and see that Carolpres has just suggested it.
Can I say, even when I learned to use it, way back in 2003, it was more than adequate and easy to use. Easy to learn and took enormous strain off an injured hand, too. Would imagine with the technology's advancement, it is even simplier now. I used Dragon Naturally Speaking at the time.True, most/many of us have slightly different voices depending whether we are speaking/writing. But, as you lectured so much maybe speaking into the machine to get good chunks of what you are saying onto the page could ease the strain a bit?
Even without all the family texting now, the tons of words you type here for work as heavily researched as here in this post, or any of your posts for that matter, must be putting pressure on your right side.
The way I learned to use the software led me to do the bulk of my typing through voice and then would go in to edit with my hands and of course correct words. Some of the words frequently needed for legal work I was doing at the time were hilariously mis-transcribed by the software. Had some real laughs. But, as "it" got used to me, and I got used to "it", that all sorted itself out.
Just a thought-that may help?
As to the post, shall read again, digest and respond more fully once I have the chance tomorrow.
As to the intrusion that has justly raised your ire? Have no words….no wait, I do. Yesterday on IG you posted an admonishment lifted from your daughter's Facebook. I would use that, only insert the word AWAY for "at home". We rarely see those flashes of anger in you, but sometimes it is entirely warranted.
A.in London
Thank you SO much for this! It feels as if life is reduced to survival mode, certainly in Europe as lockdowns spread and have now come to us. A reminder of the creativity of the human spirit, and that there will be time for creation again, is exactly what's needed. Sorry to hear about your arm/wrist/shoulder trouble. Another thing we'll value with face to face contact is lack of mechanical strain from keyboarding – except perhaps our tongues wagging nineteen to the dozen.
We were due to be in London this weekend and I was looking forward to (understatement) an exhibition at The Garden Museum at Lambeth Palace: "Sanctuary – Artist-Gardeners 1919-39" During this period there were an exceptional number of British artists who gardened, including some of my favourite artists John Nash, Eric Ravilious and Eric Bawden. To compensate for the closure they've put the exhibition catalogue online – it may interest the gardener and artist in you. gardenmuseum.org.uk/exhibitions/sanctuary-artist-gardeners-1919-1939/ (now this is a link worth clicking on, unlike some!)
This is such a nourishing post, with these beautiful images of beautiful art in a beautiful setting. Just the kind of therapy I for one need at this moment.
Thank you for sharing with us, especially with the enriching commentary that made me stop and examine each image again, rather than, as so many museum-goers do, glance and move on.
I too love your posts about art, and love this post, with the thoughtful reflection and your relevant links. I am afraid I did not spend as much time with the earlier post on KS, but have it bookmarked to return and read in greater depth. Perhaps I will have to comment again then.
These posts, and especially this one, also remind me of my own trips, to perhaps less interesting places perhaps, and my own stack of photos that I always intended to come back to, to reflect upon more greatly, exploring ideas that could only be fleeting in the busy-ness of travel, ideas that somehow then got shoved aside in the melee of busy every day life.
I would have thought I would have great gaping time on my hands, and I without a busy family. But no. My introverted self is very happy at home, very happy without having to go out except for a walk or a bicycle ride perhaps. I see that there will be lessons from this experience, assuming i will come through this pandemic unscathed. Aside from being over 60 I am at low risk, I assume, but I also tend to think none of us know what is coming. Obviously I need more physical and human contact that in is currently in the offing in my state as a single woman living alone, but I also do not need to be as busy as I was or even am. How will the world change? Will it change. Will we?
Art reminds us of these important questions, questions that I think we have allowed to drift to the background sometimes in the overstimulated busyness of our lives. Thank you, always, for posting, and being a voice of community, whether or not you respond to every comment.
Frances: Thank you so much!
Eleonore: Reactions to art are so subjective. Making your "blood run cold," though, suggests the work is powerful. Certainly, a crucifix represents torture as well, but generally doesn't prompt that response. Worth thinking about what does, in Smith's work. . . Plus the aesthetic elements — perhaps you have to see it IRL but I found much beauty there.
Anonymous: Oh, I'm so glad you enjoyed those linked videos — me too! (consider signing in as Anonymous, the way you did, but adding a name — could be pseudonym — at the end of your comment, just so that we get to recognise your voice if you join in the conversation again. Not necessary at all, but it does seem to add to the community life here. An example above is Anonymous/ A. in London)
Belle: Right?! You would have loved this exhibition!
Susan: Thank you so much for this comment. I understand why readers might not comment often, but it's so gratifying to know that you're out there and that my words bring a little light.
CarolPres: Wasn't that a magnificent exhibition? I posted on it a year or so ago — House, I think it was called. So cool . . . Your lunch must have been marvellous from what I've read about the venue.
And thanks to you and to A in London for the encouragement toward voice-recognition software. I had students who used it years ago when the technology was probably not what it is now. Never thought of it for myself before, but I will look into it.
Linda: So pleased you're finding the posts worthwhile. And thank you for that link — gorgeous stuff there. I think I'll include it in a post of my garden pics, coming up soon.
Taste of France: Kind words. Thank you, and you're very welcome!
Mardel: We introverts are in our glory now — it must be so tough for the extroverts!
Beautiful photos. ❤️😀💛
rsrue.blogspot.com
An oasis in the dessert….powerful
I admire the way you've found special and unique authors and exibitions….thank you Frances
Dottoressa
Something so unsettling about that Annunciation too. child/adult, male/female, Buddha/Christian, stylized hand gesture/casual dangling legs, welcome/stop, etc…I could stare at it for hours. So glad to get to see this exhibit through your blog.
I think what I was newly able to put into words, after seeing this, about art installations-however they are "installed", is how much I notice how they are lit and how the angle of the source of light inside a museum influences,somewhat, my feeling or reaction to the art. Instinctively I think I always sensed that. But, seeing these solitary pieces in "print" in your post drove that point home to me.
Items in cabinets at museums do not typically draw my attention; for me it is the solitary piece jutting out into a sphere in gorgeous builings. Although, went with my cousin to the glass sculpture exhibit last summer at Kew Gardens and was in awe. But for me, it's typically art in stunning buildings that draws me.
What amazes me is thinking about how all this art is moved around the world to be installed and re-installed for millions to see. Much skill and talent goes into that, too, not to mention insurance!
A.in London
The emptiness of the surroundings coupled with the power of Smith's work has delivered an emotional power that I don't think I would have felt in normal times. The angles of your photographs are especially sensitive, and the quality of the light is evocative… thank you!
No need to reply, take care of your wrists.
Interesting blog, it reminds me of Alexander Calder Exhibition in Paris. He cleverly constructed three-dimensional art works using wires which give impression of ‘drawings in space’. I tried to write a blog about it, hope you also like it: stenote.blogspot.com/2021/03/paris-at-alexander-calder-exhibition.html