Ancient Abstraction
Wednesday, August 27th, 2008This past weekend I stumbled across (on my shelves) the small catalogue and exhibition checklist to Hiroshi Sugimoto’s “History of History” exhibition that took place at the Japan Society Gallery back in 2005-2006. I hadn’t been able to see the show, but reviewed the hardcover book that was produced in French for the photo-eye Booklist. I was impressed with the book and the thinking behind the show, which was curated by Sugimoto from his own collection of pre-historic and historic objects. This little checklist from the Japan Society installment was not illustrated, but offered single paragraph descriptions for each piece, written by Sugimoto. 
The uniqueness of this book is that it is essentially an art history essay by Sugimoto illustrated with ancient art from his personal collection, interspersed with his own photography. The thesis for this project provides much needed context for the book. “Contemporary art and ancient art are like oil and water: seemingly opposite poles. Yet for the longest time now, I have found the two melding ineffably together into one, more like water and air. Living with pieces of ancient and medieval art, I have come to feel that I might borrow upon some small increment of their beauty, so as to transplant that power into my own words. Seen here are seascapes informed by both my mentor, ancient art, and that unworthy pupil, my contemporary art. The remarks that follow constitute what I have been able to learn about the various orginal pieces, embellished slightly perhaps by my imagination.”
“Ever since the age of cave painting,” Sugimoto writes, “humans have wanted a unified vision with which to see the chaos of this world of ours. Largely, it has been artists who have filled such a role—and they still hold this function today. No matter how brilliantly religion and science might explain and persuade, there will always remain shadowy areas. Scooping up shimmering particles, these persons of vision fashion decoding devices that afford us a look around in the gloom; we call their handiwork art.”
The exhibition included Cambrian-period fossils as well as various amulets, sculptures and textiles from up to 6000 years ago that he has collected. The description for one piece in particular caught my eye.
Wheelstone, Kofun period, 4th century.
Jasper
“Jasper bracelets such as this were produced mainly in the fourth century. They were probably derived from bracelets of the preceding Yayoi period (ca. 300 BCE-300CE) made from limpets and other tropical seashells, but substituting stone from the Izumo and Hokuriku regions (in central Japan, along the Sea of Japan coast) for the shell. The striking form of this bracelet surpasses contemporary abstract sculpture in its power.”
The last sentence is what got me thinking. “The striking form of this bracelet surpasses contemporary abstract sculpture in its power.”
At Radius Books we’ve been working on a title by John McCracken called Sketchbook. In an interview with Neville Wakefield that is being published in the book, McCracken, who is himself a sculptor, says something quite similar.
John McCracken: “In a simpler way, ‘distilling the world’ is a useful concept. I remember seeing a slide once of a piece of Trojan architecture. It was a big, bulky cube-like thing, just sitting there but filled with energy and power. It’s like the Trojans knew something, knew more than we know. They distilled something about mankind into a form. It’s so simple and so partial but this power still comes through.
“Often I think that ancient buildings and some modern buildings are interesting in form for reasons that few writers or analysts can pinpoint. They talk about other things instead of this energy. So often, in art criticism or art writing, what largely gets talked about are influences and lineages and not the meaning and the things that really have power.”
It seems that Sugimoto and McCracken are both interested in a very non-quantifiable quality to art. McCracken’s own work has a very elemental, “distilled” quality to it that is hard to describe but palpable, so sophisticated and rich and yet exceedingly simple at the same time. Strong paradoxes are, to me, indicators of successful and powerful work.
Radius Books launches John McCracken: Sketchbook in New York at David Zwirner on September 11th. I’ll be there and hope to see many of you as well.
Photography: A Very Short Introduction
Words Without Pictures (Aperture, 2010)
Short Track, by Jake Mendel
Bird Watching, by Paula McCartney