Gardens of Struggle

Excerpt from Long Walk to Freedom

 

The Bible tells us that gardens preceded gardeners, but that was not the case at Pollsmoor, where I cultivated a garden that became one of my happiest diversions. It was my way of escaping from the monolithic concrete world that surrounded us. Within a few weeks of surveying all the empty space we had on the building’s roof and how it was bathed the whole day, I decided to start a garden and received permission to do so from the commanding officer.

Each morning, I put on a straw hat and rough gloves and worked in the garden for two hours. Every Sunday, I would supply vegetables to the kitchen so that they could cook a special meal for the common-law prisoners. I also gave quite a lot of my harvest to the warders, who used to bring satchels to take away their fresh vegetables.

A garden was one of the few things in prison that one could control. To plant a seed, watch it grow, to tend it and then harvest it, offered a simple but enduring satisfaction. The sense of being the custodian of this small patch of earth offered a taste of freedom.

In some ways, I saw the garden as a metaphor for certain aspects of my life. A leader must also tend his garden; he, too, plants seeds, and then watches, cultivates, and harvests the results. Like the gardener, a leader must take responsibility for what he cultivates; he must mind his work, try to repel enemies, preserve what can be preserved, and eliminate what cannot succeed. ~ Nelson Mandela

Green House Clutch

Sabrina Granados

My day with Clutch was informed be placing Clutch within a small greenhouse. This greenhouse is devoid of any flora since it attempts to show clutch flowering from the green house planters. I shared this view with my architecture class where clutch was well received. It was an interesting view since the unexpected nature of Terra/Form condensed in the 5x5x5 space surprised viewers. Students who are traditionally used to making small models that imply larger spaces, were puzzled at the complexity of Clutch.

Jean Arp, Growth

Each member of the Education and Outreach team toured the Art Institute prior to the opening and selected artworks that they felt pertained to the themes present in the show Terra/Form: Cultivating a Community.

My talk as a member of the team was based on Arp’s Growth and how it relates to our own exhibition Terra/Form within Clutch Gallery by creating gestures that encourage humans to reconnect with the earth.

The following was an informal talk I gave in the Art Institute of Chicago galleries on Jean (Hans) Arp’s Growth in conjunction with the opening of Terra/Form: Cultivating a Community:

Jean or Hans Arp (Jean for when he spoke French and Hans in German) was a Surrealist artist and major contributor to the Dada movement. In the early 1930s, he started a new direction in his art-making---that of rounded, curved sculpture.

Arp took a leading role in developing what has become known as biomorphic or organic abstraction. Biomorphism was an art movement that implemented design elements that used models of the naturally occurring patterns and shapes of the earth.

These new sculptural pieces represented a change in his work as well, emphasizing nature as a model and inspiration.

Growth represents a transition for Western sculpture. Before, the human figure was the medium’s primary subject. Growth’s reference to nature and landscape was a breaking from this tradition.

In the past, Western sculpture had been focused on separating and categorizing man from animal, animal from man. Arp was concerned with creating a space to let go of this way of looking at not only art, but of the world. He was interested in human self-image in terms of narcissism and challenging this in his work.

He writes, “Reason tells man that he is above nature, that he is the measure of all things. Thus man thinks he can create against the laws of nature and he creates monsters instead. Through reason man has become a tragic and ugly personage...Reason has separated man from nature.”

Arp advocated for a new kind of art that would restore man to his proper place within the natural order.

Growth is divided into three curved shapes or appendages. Two of the appendages resemble legs that are cut at the thigh. The sculpture becomes a slim trunk that bends outward like knees or elbows and then into bud or breast like shape. Growth combines the human form, here of a female body with that of plant imagery. This appearance gives the sculpture movement. Growth can be seen as a combination of a human form with those of a tree or plant. The upward growth of a tree and the curves of a bud or fruit.

The experience of giving a brief talk on an artwork in the Art Institute of Chicago was an exciting and fruitful (no pun intended) experience. I am grateful to have worked alongside many talented individuals to help form this exhibition and am hopeful for the community it forms.

Adapted for the talk from: A New Unity of Man and Nature: Jean Arp's "Growth" of 1938

Margherita Andreotti

Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies, Vol. 16, No. 2 (1990), pp. 132-145+178-180

Grocery Store

Sung Moon

For Clutch attendants, there is the responsibility to carefully represent the gallery and the artworks to visitors, but also to ensure that the theme of Terra/Form, is delivered to the public. To do this, I was interested in taking Clutch to its most natural habitat. For me, that meant disarming Clutch from my hands, and placing it within the context of the environment. I had to make sure that there was a correlation between the environment and Clutch itself. The environment and Clutch together had to create a harmonious narrative that allowed people to understand the exhibition without any descriptions and by relating it to their everyday lifestyle, thus making it seem familiar to them. But in order to do that, the clutch had to pick its own location, not me.

When I walked inside a grocery store one day, I picked up a bag of turkey ham from the cooler for my sandwich. As soon as I took the turkey out from the compartment and held it in my left hand, Clutch on my right arm,  I couldn’t stop but notice the empty space that now separates the bacon and the original swiss cheese in the compartment. This negative space that I created, by taking out the turkey ham broke the rhythm of all the artificial colors and produce that the grocery store lined up for its customers. Therefore, I thought it could be the most natural thing for me to now place Clutch between the bacon and the swiss cheese, replacing the turkey ham that I was going to eat for lunch.

It was Thursday morning around 9:00 AM, so people were grabbing their juice and their muscle milk, their mind fresh like a blank canvas- it was the perfect moment for me to step back, close to the nachos and observe the gallery opening. One guy walked in and I think was looking for turkey ham as well, but since I took the last one, and Clutch was sitting in the spot for the turkey he naturally took Clutch out and opened it to see if there was turkey inside. Realizing that this wasn’t what he was looking for, he gently placed it back where it had been. What he saw in there, and how he interpreted the artworks, while critical, will remain personal. This is important because we are accustomed to everything being shared on social media today. The moments that people digitally share these days, create a chain of a digital map that can never be tracked. But the beauty of it is its purity like the beauty of infancy. I think the feeling of finding something new and remembering that moment, in its relation to the placed environment is  critical to the theme of  Clutch. And if people start to see  Clutch again somewhere else, carried by a different person, that overlapping experience could be powerful enough to change his or her pattern for the day. “Will I see that Clutch again at the corner of Michigan and Huron?”

 In conclusion, I do not think this interaction was coincidental at all, although I am fortunate for deciding to have turkey ham sandwich on that day. I believe that if the environment presents itself to the clutch first, the Clutch would take in the features of the built environment and present itself in its natural form and that provokes the emotion of the exhibition: Terra/Form. For future clutch carriers, every moment with Clutch should be a grand opening as it finds itself in the context of the nature that we live in. Although it’s temporary and constantly mobile, sometimes I believe that a glimpse creates more curiosity than anything else.

Clutch in the Everyday

Diana Yukari Pereira

I carried Clutch with me for an average day: work, classes, walks and train rides, and carrying an
object that had to be displayed made me hyper aware of people, spaces and my own place in
everyday conditions. As an introvert, it is hard for me to fully understand the concept of community
and discussing it is very complex for me since I don't always feel I experience it. However, the act of
carrying Clutch made me think of the environments I am constantly immersed in and how they
constitute communities that I am part of without even realizing it. More than that, I realized how
Clutch can not only create a community around it, a class or a group of people that get together to view the art pieces in it, but it is also a contribution to existing communities.

The connection it creates between people through the momentary shared interest was one of the most rewarding parts of carrying clutch. During my time with Clutch, I also observed different kinds of reactions from viewers who were not interested at all to those who started intense discussions over its concept. I noticed that people would react with more enthusiasm when they were approached in a situation where they were not alone, and the interest would hardly ever end with the closing of clutch’s lid. I saw many conversations starting from the end of the performative act that is opening and closing it, and the performative act itself was the topic of many conversations I had. The moment of unlocking it, right before opening the small gallery is very exciting for everyone who saw clutch, even if the interest in it did not continue. I was aware of that beforehand, but to realize that there was not a single person who reacted indifferently to this moment was to realize that we are all part of at least one community, the one made of human beings.

Clutch Gallery

Justin Jun

    Clutch Gallery travels through the different hands of different people and through different moments of time, and it is somehow always able to spark a light in a person's eye even for a brief moment. To witness the curiosity of the viewer is an integral part of the gallery experience. As the carrier of Clutch Gallery during the time period of November 28th to December 1st, I was given many opportunities to share the wooden purse of secrets with creative people, who were all celebrating the festive weekend of Thanksgiving. Since Clutch represents community, the human interaction with the space itself is crucial in showing others what Clutch Gallery and its artists' intentions are. 

Clutch Gallery spent the Thanksgiving weekend at a number of different locations, some more appropriate to the viewing experience than others. For example, starting chronologically, I took the Clutch Gallery to the Millennium ice rink on Friday where many families, tourists, and artists could be found. To be honest it felt quite odd in the middle of the cold, foggy day to be carrying around the wooden box through the crowd of people wearing ice skates. It was daunting to charm strangers to look into my secret box. I found a table on which I propped opened Clutch's lid, and set it on its side for people to see, and waited for comments. As many, many park-goers glanced and walked away, a  child ran up with her face level with Clutch, looked inside, and up at me and asked “how come the tree is growing out of the wall?” Everyone one else who asked about the gallery received an explanation of Terra/Form as a portable gallery experience with each work of art representing the artists’ relation to the growth they have experienced in community in Chicago.

The one comment that stood out from the others came from an artist by the name of Patricia Hutabarat, who mentioned the fact that “the viewer cannot BE inside the gallery, but still experiences the gallery as if one were inside the structure.” The impossibility to scale the audience to the inside of the gallery really makes it a unique surreal experience, where the mind attempts to warp perception.

 “However, its miniature scale in relationship with its holder gives a certain level of intimacy—where only one person can experience it at a time. Its surreal element lies in its atmosphere, as if here is an oneiric space. All your focus goes into this space, and the experience is given to you in secret.”- Patricia Hutabarat 

On Saturday evening following I took Clutch Gallery to the Christkindl Market, on 50 West Washington St, where the giant orange Calder statue, entitled Flamingo is found. The city of Chicago hosted their annual German influenced vendor market. The shops were of the same exact woody, soft comforting color the Clutch purse is made of. Lighted, the shops were in a sense little boxes filled with wonderful secrets waiting to be opened.It was quite crowded, with shoppers shuffling in and out of shops and stalls, making the site a perfect place for Clutch viewers. Indeed, people were fascinated with the gallery space as well as with the other unique merchandise. The booth at which I chose to display Clutch was a woodworking booth with all sorts of carvings, where each artist had a themed niche, for example one carver specialized in animals, another in human figures, and some with out-of-this-world fantasy carvings, like those one may find in Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. 

The fit for Clutch was splendid, with many people walking up to get personal with the gallery. It was a merry time for all, and the second day of Clutch Galleries being on display proved to be better than the first. 

  The Clutch Gallery had an unexpected performance factor that I had not experienced beforehand, and it was due to the social implications of an (assumed) male with a purse, or in this case a purse-like object. I definitely felt the discomfort when holding the top handle directly with my hand, and in honesty when I received Clutch Gallery from Zara, I made sure to bring a plastic bag to place the purse into so as not to reveal the object to the public. Then I began to realize that the wooden container does not only emulate the notions of feminine designer handbags. I don’t believe women would actually view the container as practical or see it as fashionable. What I experienced was instead the discomfort of simply the word “purse” and the reality that I am the owner of said “purse.” If the class initially were to refer to Clutch Gallery as a “briefcase” I possibly would have not even brought the plastic bag to cover the container in the first place. The gendered friction that I experienced was my own social conditioning about a term that has feminine connotations.

Clutch makes a house call, puts up a tree and goes out to eat.

Judy Radovsky

Having been hard at work community building and making appearances around town all month, Clutch wanted to spend an evening with family by the fire and go out for a meal.

Seen here as part of a seasonal ritual, Clutch participated in the raising of the tree; afterwards sampling some delicious food and making friends. On a cold December Evanston evening, Clutch knows indoors is the place to be for cheer, and hopes you all find time for these brief timeouts from responsibility.

Community Newly Cultivated

Myohan Oh

Between receiving Clutch from the previous carrier and arriving home with the gallery, I encountered a couple of friends who stopped me on the street and took interest in this unusual vessel containing the Terra/Form exhibition that I held by my side.  I was delighted to know that there were some who were interested in Clutch without any initiation on my part.

Later, I was sitting in my apartment getting ready to go to Wicker Park, and wondering how I would approach strangers and what I would say to engage them in the Clutch exhibition, and ultimately how I would cultivate a community through this experience. I kept opening and closing that 5”x 5”x 5” gallery space, unconsciously thinking that I would see something different each time I opened it. Then Landon Williams’ piece entitled Here came into view and it made me think about what it means to be here and to be in the moment that I’m in. I thought about where I was: my apartment building. I thought about how an apartment building is, in a sense, a community in and of itself. A bunch of people from all different backgrounds and different locations and different stages in life gather and inhabit this one building for the sake of living. Then I thought about how although we (the residents) are in close vicinity to one other, we are still separate; come to think of it, I didn’t know the names of anyone on my floor, let alone who they were.

I decided to jettison the idea of going to Wicker Park with this exhibition and embraced the idea of going around to the other apartment units on my floor, knocking on doors, and getting to know the inhabitants of this so-called community.

The experience came to fruition beautifully. I went from door to door, knocking and awkwardly asking if the resident or residents would be interested in taking a look at this miniature gallery. Obviously not everyone answered their doors because not everyone was home, but overall, I got to know my neighbors. There lives a guy on my floor [for privacy reasons, I will not reveal names] who goes to Columbia and majors in photography and has a very suave taste in hairstyle (apparently there are a lot of Columbia students on my floor). There is a room of three girls who actually have a large poster of a boy band (whose name I can’t remember for the life of me) and play music very often and loud enough to the point where one can hear it from down the hall. I also had no idea that the apartment unit next to mine was vacant: the residents there had moved out very recently; I had only figured this out when the rentor came around and entered that unit that I was waiting in front of so patiently, only to find out that it was completely cleared out and uninhabited.

Through this experience with Clutch, I can confidently say that I had cultivated community in a space where community seemed evident but was in fact absent. This wasn’t a community in the sense that all the residents on my floor got to know each other, but rather it was more personal and for my own gain, that I gained the opportunity to interact with others and to have them open their lives to me while I shared pieces of mine (and classmates’ through the artwork in the gallery). My underlying hope for those on my floor is that my action of knocking and interacting with this exhibition would encourage others to cultivate community as well, not necessarily through presenting pieces of art in a clutch purse, but through whatever means of expression best fit them.

Clutch attends A Christmas Carol

Ciar O’Mahony
 

I took Clutch to the theatre with me to see A Christmas Carol and could not have asked for a more excitable reception.  A Christmas Carol, being a very family oriented play, had attracted an audience of all ages and small children were everywhere.  All I had to do was show a couple of children what was inside the little wooden box and dozens of children were flocking over through the narrow aisle of seats attempting to see and touch what was inside.  My lengthy explanations of Terra/Form and the concept of Clutch Gallery were condensed into more digestible ideas for those under age eight.  "Clutch was a gallery" I said, "All of the things inside were works of art by different artists..." I had never considered what Clutch would be like in the eyes of children, but they are as valuable as any other audience.  The intrigue and enthusiasm were palpable from some but disappointment could also be felt from others, hoping for something slightly more Christmas-oriented.  Small hands grabbed at work and I became more of a care-taker of Clutch than anything.  I spoke with a couple of other people as well, the person sitting next to me, and other play-goers casually.  Clutch became a miniature theatre in the rows of another as well as a garden and a gallery.  It felt strange to be a small part of a large audience who had come prepared to witness a spectacle while also carrying a spectacle of my own.  A Christmas Carol is a play that has been performed in Chicago for over 50 years now and is an established part of the city's theatrical history, Clutch is a project that is now establishing itself as a tiny pillar in the Chicago arts community and maybe they will intersect again at a future time.

Clutch Schmoozes during SAIC Crit Week

Risa Recio


Clutch gallery took a tour with me around the Graduate Painting and Drawing critique spaces for Critique Week. As I brought Clutch with me, the expected curiosity of classmates followed and not surprisingly, acted as a tool to diffuse much of the tension surrounding the studios. As classmates would come and go to discuss their critiques and talk about the harsh criticisms from their panels, their moods would suddenly change when they saw what I held.

Later that evening, I took Clutch to attend the lecture of Visiting Artist, Silke Otto Knapp, an artist originally from Austria who now lives and works in Los Angeles. Her large scale watercolour paintings allude to backdrops of a stage or theater, which became an interesting point of discussion later on in the evening when I had the opportunity to attend a dinner with her, classmates, and some SAIC faculty after the lecture. At this dinner, I presented Clutch to the table and lively discussions ensued. We discussed the surprising theatricality of the Clutch exhibition, how the carrier of Clutch must perform with it (holding, presenting, carrying, etc.) and how the viewers also perform as they interact with the gallery. The effect of Clutchwas a surprising role reversal. Where Silk Otto Knapp’s large scale works set a stage for the view, Clutch acts like a protagonist where we as the audience become a cast of characters in the performance. 

My experience with Clutch came not so much in the discussion of what was in the gallery itself, but what happened outside and around it.

The act of archiving

“Is it part of the Field Museum?”

“Is it something from the Collections?”

I had taken Clutch Gallery to the Field Museum where at any given time that I opened it to a viewer, it seemed that more questions arose than what I could answer. 

Any explanation I gave seemed to only add to the confusion of it.

And I began to question it myself. What exactly distinguished the art within Terra/Form from the artifacts that surrounded it? One could say that the artifacts held within the Field Museum are artifacts because they incorporate aspects of cultural heritage. But I could make the same argument for some of the objects in Terra/Form even if they represent a more personal response to our culture.

Or was it  due to the way the objects were collected and the public’s perception of them? Was it how the objects came to be?

 The contextual explanation of Terra/Form and its fruition began to make me think about the act of collecting. Why do we feel compelled to collect objects and archive them in a particular manner? The psychology of collections tends to fall back on the idea that when we experience chaos in the world around us, collecting objects allows us to find an outlet of personal control.1 It provides us with a comfort zone and one that we can refer back to when we need to be reminded of a moment in our lives. In a lot of ways I think Terra/Form can be a reflection of those feelings and needs- the aroma of a family history, the remains of a path that had been taken before.

 The collections housed within the Field Museum, although now they are carefully archived based on the most current scientific requirements, had similarly humble beginning as Terra/Form- a woman or man feeling the need to gather something she or he found along her or his own personal journey and carefully keep only to open it up to future generations.

Jordan Whitney Martin

1. McKinley, Mark B. "The Psychology of Collecting | The National Psychologist." The Psychology of Collecting | The National Psychologist. N.p., n.d.
Web. 05 Dec. 2014.

Nicole Tourangeau

A view of Chicago
 

Like it or not the controversial Trump Tower is now a landmark in our city. Trump Towers has come to stand for the materiality and fame of the name itself and its over luxurious components.  Having someone close to me living on the 58th floor of Trump Towers has given me the opportunity to experience life in one of the most famed high-rises in Chicago.

I took Clutch to Trump to expose Clutch to environments existing inside and outside of a building known for its superficiality. Before going, I believed living in such a building removes one from nature and its surroundings and creates its own bubble of an environment, much like Clutch is a self-enclosed world.

In the Trump Tower habitat, in summer the windows are covered with extremely large spiders and their webs. They are not present on the day I bring Clutch because the weather is cool, but during summer these “flying” spiders use their silk and catch air currents, landing on some of Chicago’s tallest buildings. Small insects also make these windows their homes, which the spiders eat. In the winter, the windows freeze and slowly the ice begins to melt. This natural process is inevitable in Chicago’s climate and I find it beautiful to watch the ice melt in sync with our weather patterns. The buildings are also equipped with electric fireplaces, artificial and purely used to create a relaxing ambiance. 

For me though what was most significant about spending time with Clutch at the Trump Tower was its extensive view. I feel like you can see all of Chicago, including  bodies of water, expressways, and the changing urban sprawl. The view puts the scale of the city into perspective. I picked out North Avenue Beach - a reminder of how earlier this summer I walked there from downtown. At that time the walk felt exhausting but from the Trump Tower window, it felt much closer. I currently live in Bucktown and even in the short time I’ve lived in this area, I have created a community within my neighborhood. I go to my local gym, buy from the small food store around the corner and, more or less, stay in the neighborhood.  I even walk the same route to the bus to and from school. 

I often forget that I am a part of a much larger, easily accessible city. My original thought that the city dwellers of Chicago’s most dense areas were the most disconnected from their environment but at Trump Tower, with Clutch, seeing Chicago as a whole from a high-rise vantage point, made me think about my own disconnection to Chicago. I have created a small community for myself just like Clutch has created a community for itself, and, like Clutch, perhaps the purpose is to be mindful of making the connections between communities.

Chicagoisms

A Sixth Chicagoism

Jane Thompson

The organizers of the exhibition Chicagoisms, at The Art Institute of Chicago, identify five key principles serving as the foundation for Chicago’s historic grandeur. These Chicagoisms are:  “Vision Shapes History”, “Optimism Trumps Planning”, “Ambition Overcomes Nature”, “Technology Makes Spectacle”, and “Crisis Provokes Innovation”.   These aphorisms point to such well known events as the Great Chicago Fire, the World’s Columbian Exposition, and the reversal of the flow of the Chicago River.

In the exhibition, nine architects use these principles to make 21^st century proposals for urban development that are curious, unconventional, and sometimes quirky.  The proposals are mostly depicted in aerial view architectural models under clear domes.  Each one invites us to peer down into the city, imagining and interacting with Chicago in new ways.

Similarly, Clutch Gallery invites us to gaze down into the exhibition Terra/Form.  Each of the diverse works of art suggests a way in which the artist observes or interacts with their environment, their terra. HERE by Landon Williams reminds us to stop, breath, and take note of where we are.  Fallen by Melody Bilbo connects the two cities where she lives and works.  Polyroots by Paulina Ramirez Parra commemorates all trees that are destined to serve our human wants. In Vitreous Enamel, Judy Radovsky shares the alchemical geology that has been part of her artwork for years.  LaAndrea Deloyce Mitchell uses collage in Ode to Memphis Gold to speak of the human interconnectivity that she knows in her community in Memphis.  Katie Doyle offers a porcelain flower to make the sense of intimacy permanent.  In Vessel, Tim Llop captures the remnants of his own love of wood working in a basket that was a gift from a friend (Images of these works may be viewed in the blog posts from November entitled Install Photos and Terra/Form Exhibition Opening)

Together in the intimate space of Clutch Gallery, these art works form a metaphoric garden.  In this gallery there are no clear domes, limiting the viewer’s engagement.  Audiences are free to touch each of the art works and even smell the Jasmine scent that Christen Calloway places in Terra/Form in remembrance of a Jasmine tree that was dear to her family.  Viewers are welcomed into the newly formed community and become part of its growth.

This intimacy and accessibility of Terra/Form suggest a sixth aphorism, “Nature Cultivates Community”

Tiny Talk: Vitreous Enamel

Text from an Informal “Tiny Talk,” given on the night of Terra/Form: Cultivating a Community opening at the Art Institute by Judy Radovsky, one of Terra/Form’s contributing artists:

Hi, I’m Judy Radovsky.

My contribution to Clutch is a small piece of Vitreous Enamel.

As you know, this show marks the culmination of our class on contemporary cartography and the beginning of the month- long exhibition at/in clutch gallery.

It must be said that we all were drawn to this course for our own reasons, as the nebulous cluster of issues surrounding walking, wandering, mapping, borders, and identification touched on in our discussions have varied roles in our work.

For myself, the themes I’ve concentrated on for some time now concern materiality, tactility, the relationship between surface, form and light, and also with representations of scale.  This current body of work becomes important in speaking about the enamel, for reasons that will become clear.

I’m in the middle of a few projects that take as their starting point a series of photographs I’ve taken of thin geological sections and saturated crystal chemical solutions.

These images of microscopic space instead of confining themselves to a claustrophobic 30microns, which is an average of their thickness,

instead appear as vast alien landscapes representing the physical processes that formed them.

Another piece I’m working on looks at the structure of a hurricane,

and attempts to translate it into a much smaller physical sculptural object. This, of course, has its challenges, but at heart I’m interested in how we look at the forces around us that push and pull us, whether they appear stable and solid as the ground beneath us or as giant violent weather systems that are essentially intangible, but nevertheless are profoundly impactful and things that we study, chart, and graph. We interpret these intangibles that challenge materiality and time.

So, what then does my small Clutch piece have to do with all this?

Well, this was a small test sample of enamel that I did many years ago. It was almost beyond notice at the time and spent the last number of years in a toolbox, forgotten.

Back then, it had little to do with my practice, but was interesting nonetheless. An experiment that didn’t go anywhere. A kind of island to itself.

When I recently came across it, I was struck at how the material is now completely in line with my current mode of inquiry, with its vitreous mineral structure, and  its state change during heating from a fine granular powder, to a pocked uneven orange peel and then a smooth full fuse.  There’s an earthiness to its quality of shared permanence and impermanence, and a poetry to the capture of mineral color suspended in glass – what is sometimes called a solid liquid (amorphous solid).

But more than that, pertaining directly to the topic of charting winding paths and wandering aimlessly, this piece is a kind of personal map of thought and practice.

It’s one part of my artistic practice that connects the past and present, and I confess that now I have reacquainted myself, I want experiment again with it, and so it also bridges a future Judy’s practice -- becoming an embodiment of this cycle of material and conceptual practice.

It seemed a fitting inclusion to a show of art and mapping.