Camel Bones

Walking through the modern art wing of the DIA, it is difficult to miss “Variability of Similar Forms”. The piece from 1970 created by Nancy Graves, an American artist fills the gallery with hand made camel leg bones, roughly a little taller than the size of the average viewer. There are many of them, covering around 15ft x 10ft of floorspace. They are comprised of steel supports, wax, marble, dust, acrylic and a bit of wood to round it all out. All of those bits come together to create what are believable bone structures that look like they are in mid movement when they are abruptly frozen in place.

The first thing you notice about “Variability of Similar Forms” is that it feels very organic. The bones are created in a very lifelike way, and unless you read the card telling you that they are a composite you would be forgiven for thinking that they could be real. As you look closer you begin to see unique features on each stalk that you would not notice at a quick glance. In some regards this is much like looking at a crowd of people. At a glance features meld and merge, that is until you look closer and you see the uniqueness in each individual. Because they do all look similar though seeing them in all together creates this feeling of the area being a “block” of leg bones, they become a whole instead of just parts of a installation.

As you walk around the piece, it is difficult to not view it as a diorama in alien natural history museum. As though another life form found the camel bones and put them together in the best way they could figure, like segmented tube worms. Either that or they thought they were the main component of a mammalian forest, densely filling the earthen landscape until whatever their hypothetical demise was. I think this placement of known parts into a unknown configuration can open up the viewers imagination and make them look at the world around them in a different light. This piece breaks with the convention of a museum that the subject has to be presented as it existed and cannot be altered to create something more interesting.

When I see the piece, I am reminded of our temporary nature. These legs have the same effect as a skull placed at the feet of a subject in a painting. Yes, the installation isn’t of human bones, but to see bones of an animal you could come in contact with in a museum like environment, presented in the same way dinosaur bones are, you begin to realize that one day your own bones could be on display. To see an example of a living organisms bones in the same way we see fossilized remains is unsettling. They clue you in to the fact that the time between now and when fossilized animals hit the ground is not that grand in the larger scheme of things. Your mortality starts coming into question.

As the name implies, this piece is about repetition of form. Repetition is one of the strongest tools in an artists tool-chest and it hits home quite well in this piece. Was there to be only one leg in the center of the gallery, you would not have the subtle play and banter between the repeated forms. As you circle the installation you see the intersection of the legs into one another, creating interesting shapes.  Depending on how you look at them they sometimes seem to sway back and forth like they are in a herd. This makes you want to move and interact with the environment to get the most from the piece.

The impression and what you get out of“Variability of Similar Forms” seems to depend on what you are looking for when you view it. I could easily see someone looking at it and seeing it as a commentary on any number of things. It could be twisted into being a commentary on weight, showing what amounts to bones standing around. Or commenting on environmental issues, claiming that plant life needs to be protected the same way as animals, and showing them to have the same internal structure would emotionally tie them. Further still someone could view it the same way I did, that it exists to broaden our often finite view of the world by repurposing a subject matter. No matter what you see in it though the piece is very eye-catching and will hold your attention for some time.

Modular Cubes

“Modular open Cube Pieces (9 x 9 x 9) Floor-Corner 2” is a piece on display at the DIA by American artist Sol LeWitt. Created in 1976 the painted wooden structure has the appearance of being formed out of stacked cubes, creating a larger, more complex but incomplete cube. Overall I’d say the dimensions are roughly four to five feet in every direction. 

The surface of the sculpture is painted in a matte white, drenching the entire sculpture. The light bounces off the surface creating interesting geometric shadows, becoming more and more complex with each subsequent level of cubes. The piece is tucked into a corner of the gallery space almost making a ramp or staircase up to the wall.

The first thing that pops into my head when I see the sculpture is fog. The deeper you look into the piece the more and more complex visually it becomes. You see layers upon layers of intersecting lines, shadows cast. Eventually you can’t see through the box at all except from specific vantage points. This reminds me of walking through fog because the density prevents you from seeing as far as you’d like. You can see through the close cubes but the farther you try to see the more you are obstructed.

I am also reminded of molecules when I look at the sculpture. While the square segments may not mimic any real molecular formations the way in which they are collected and perfectly ordered makes me think of molecules bonding. “Building blocks” so to speak, creating an ever more complex structure. This is reenforced by its color (or lack thereof), giving the appearance that maybe you are looking at a magnified grain of salt. This adds an austere, analytical feeling to the piece. In a way I wish that the piece was pulled away from the wall, allowing a full 360 degree view. While the piece may have been designed to be viewed from its current vantage point, I think that a full, all around view would give it a greater sense of space.

On the wall next to the piece there is a passage that says something to the effect that this art is exactly what it portrays itself to be, the idea that there does not need to be a deeper inner meaning. I think this is true of this piece, while you can argue all day what you think it means, really you are just grasping at straws. There is nothing about the piece that says it has inner meaning and there is nothing that says it has to. It is art for the sake of art. For me personally I think that a lot can be learned from that. The idea that the aesthetics can be just as important as function if done correctly is important

“Modular Open Cube Pieces” almost melds into the architecture of the room in which it resides. Because of its geometric form it feels more like a structure than a piece of art. I think this works well though, as stated earlier it is art for art’s sake, not muddled by preconceptions of what art should be or weighed down by lofty meaning. It can be enjoyed by everyone. In some regards recently art has gone back to requiring the viewer to be versed in the art world to understand it, and this can alienate a lot of people. This piece can be enjoyed by everyone.

While I walked...

At the time of this entry there is an exhibition on at the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit going by the title “LifeStories”. This exhibition, curated by Luis Croquer presents multiple international artists who are dealing with issues revolving around personal history. The presentations are unorthodox in their presentation of the topic, creating some interesting takes on the subject. The piece that I felt was the most successful in the show is a piece by Jan Mancuska, an artist who at present lives and works in Prague and Berlin. His work is a black piece of textile rubber-band with white silk screened words on it. If I had to guess, the room the piece is house in is roughly 10ft x 15ft, with the band stretching from wall to wall creating almost an almost geometric wireframe.

The piece, “While I walked..In my studio in ISCP, 323 W 39th Street #811, New York, 2003” (hereto fore referred to as “While I walked”) reminds me very much of Judy Pfaff’s piece, “the Italians”. The strongest reason being the way in which the art fills theie space. Neither pieces take up much physical space, but because of the way in which they are situated and suspended they fill a room. Also the interactions the pieces have with the walls are very similar, none of the pieces seem to require the walls for structure, even those that are affixed to it. They have an airiness about them. Another similarity, and  probably the most apparent similarity is the pieces physical form, both pieces are composed of straight lines that create a geometric form.


Silk screened onto the suspended tape of “While I walked” is a long run-on sentence. The sentence can be picked up at any point because it is more or less an evolving thought that centers around the activity of walking around a studio. When you approach the piece your eyes are almost stumped by what the dimensions of the tape are. Similar to how it is difficult to gauge distance with one eye closed, your eyes have difficulty placing the tape in three dimensional space, making you leery of approaching it. Eventually, I just made the decision to tuck my head and walk far enough in that I knew I wouldn’t hit the tape and I found myself surrounded. All around me was a skinny black line, that now with the context of the walls lower and upper extremes I had spacial awareness.

What I would equate standing in that room to is formulating an idea. You stand in the middle of the piece, text all around you expressing essentially nothing, creating confusion but you are confined within this finite space. Just like when you are coming up with an idea or a thought you know at the very least the general space in your mind which it resides, even if you can’t put your finger on what you are trying to think of. In this regard I say that the piece fits the exhibition very well, because it conjures up memory, The memory on the tape is that of the artist but the piece causes you to think of your own memories that can be equated to the piece. The piece creates a blur in your mind, you look around with a lost feeling. You are not entirely sure where to go, what you should be looking at or what part of the test you should be reading. Almost as though you are sifting through old memories that don’t matter in search of one that does.




“As I walked” also lends the viewer a feeling of being inside of a much larger space. The tape does not have any definable dimensions at a distance, and as I said earlier unless you get very close to it it can be difficult to determine the pieces actual dimensions. Because of this when you stand in the middle the defined lines of the rooms floor and ceiling can easily begin to fade away and you feel as though you are in a much larger room than you are. Just like standing inside a large train station can be overwhelming or indefinable visually in terms of size “as I walked” creates that same feeling. You do not know your confines, you know that they exist, that they are there but you do not know “where” they are, where the outer extreme of your environment is. This grandiose feeling reenforces the idea of memory, as who doesn’t look back on an old memory as being larger or more important than it really is.

When seen in the context of the show, I have to say “As I walked” really shines. The piece has enough depth that you can have multiple takes on meaning and feeling created, while also forming an environment that even someone passing through would find interesting. Aesthetically the black tape on the stark white walls of the gallery is beautiful in its simplicity, particularly compared to the other pieces in the show. Many of the other pieces were sometimes overly complex in their concept to the point in which you were living the artists memory. This is fine, but because Mancuska’s work allows you to have your own memories fill the space it was more relatable, and seemed to be larger in scope.