To ae 28 Planet of the Arts / December 1996 P. Roch Smith From the series Evergreen Sculpture Installation a fiction in response to the exhibition She: He: She: She: Life drawing sessions usually draw between ten and thirty people. Students must supply all their own materials, i.e. board, paper, pencil, ink, conté, charcoal, etc. The class is divided into two segments. The first half consists of a series of short poses starting at lengths of 1 minute and extending to 30 minutes. After a break, we return for long poses. We are open to new ideas and suggestions. We would like to get a sound system to play music while drawing. Everyone could benefit from these sessions. Please contact Susan Coward through her student mailbox to get more information. éla “Tribute to Ansel Adams” by Sandra Semchuk You don’t have to believe in Ansel Adams’ transcendental vision in order to appre- ciate the myths of the pristine or the sublime wilderness. It’s not such a great leap of the imagination to go from the solitary journey into the desert paradise that Christ made to, the possibilities of paradise found in the heroic adventurers of the frontier. There must be a deep need for the vast empty wilderness as a place to find communion, a sense of god, or self. It’s too bad that myth didn’t have room for natives or animals, except as objects to project one’s fears onto. | have my doubts about the solitary adventurer in the deepest wilderness. We appropriate nature as property for our imaginations. We fence it with our methods of inquiry; real estate - emotional, psychic, and intellec- tual property. We don’t give a damn about having good water to drink. Or that the water is full of life and lives. It’s easier to apply revisionist techniques to history than it is to find a way out of this mess. One thing about Mona Lochan’s piece | liked in the exhibition was that she took a stand: she was placing a notice of the desecration of the sacred forest in the context of human dysfunction. Knots: we have them in all of our relationships. (She was considering an installation she had seen in Scotland, a walk through a wilderness park. By Manual. The story was from the trees’ point of view and articulated their myths of humankind. The trees concluded that humans were merely projections, figments of tree-framing imagina- tions. By the time she had finished the walk she felt lost in a forest of signs; the screen was impenetrable.) | don’t know how to come to know nature. | don’t know. We can’t just tear apart the screens of our myths without ' destroying the regenerative co ee mechanisms of our culture, : of our psyches. (She had been reading René Girard.) All that leaves us with is despair, the inability to act, to commit ourselves to this planet. Dammit, it scares me. He: (They were back at the Institute. He was nursing a gash on his knee. Immersed in navi- gating the symbols of nature in his head, he had forgotten how to cross a stream on rocks. He was wet and cold, but persis- tent; he wanted to under- _ He: stand.) What we are really observing is nature through the filter of our own methods of inquiry - that’s what Heisenburg said. We're really not coming to know nature, we’re tracing the mechan- ogy that has become so fraught with the warring fee Bobs of binary opposites and Gimme Shelter the tearing apart of the Sculpture world that we’re over- whelmed with a sense of the apocalyptic .... we react and react, bound within opposing world views. (She handed him the book, Woman Native Other by Trinh T. Minh- ha. He read the passage that she had underlined outloud.) “Seeking to perforate meaning by forcing my entry or breaking it open to dissipate He: what is thought to be secrets seems to me as crippled an act as verifying the sex of an unborn child by ripping open the mother’s womb. It is typical of a mentality that proves incapable of touching the living thing without crushing its delicate- ness.” (p.49) (He stopped and really looked at her. She looked so tired. Her shoulders She: were pulled inwards. He wanted to comfort her.) (She felt his look; she liked it. He had read the passage with meaning in his voice: she knew that he had liked what he read. There was no reason for her surprise, but there it was: he was not what she had thought him to be.) When Trinh Minh-ha was here she spoke about circumnavigation — moving ics of the mind, a technol- She: Brian Foote From the series SHIFT Photographic Assembly around that which one is trying to come to know, like the storyteller who uses her ‘Words to bring the child back into kinship with life. It’s not about going right to the point, forcing, or controlling. Rather it was more about yielding, or echoing, or letting nature (perhaps my own nature) shape the story: hearing the audience while speaking, and being prepared to move with them ... or me, if I’m speaking to myself. Hmmm ... | guess | am my own audience, first. That makes me think of Brian Foote’s piece (“S H1 F T” was written in inverse text below rows of framed images of wild- ness in an urban park. The last row was shifted.) My sense is that Brian identifies with that wildness in the urban context and has the same difficulty in the direct per- ception of himself as he has in the perception of those plants, trees and rocks in the landscape. There's a directive to the self to move, to shift the frame, the point of reference, to move, perhaps in the subtle ways that the leaves of the bushes are moving. (She hadn’t noticed how subtle his hand movements were before.) Oh, there’s a statue of Buddha | saw where endless Buddhas come out of the head of the Buddha... the image of Buddha is only an image, illusion. Brian’s work somehow made me reconsider that image in the context of the dilemma of repre- sentation. | was interested in the subtle shifts and movements of the collaged images within the frames, the archeological layering of quiet movements in the brush, the shifts of tones — there was a screen, to project the representation on that had a life of its own - more like a body’s response than a mind’s response. All of this denoted, for me, an inability to fix this wildness which exists still in the urban reality and within ourselves... Yes, and an inability to understand nature, commodify nature — that coming to know, the inquiry process, was dominated or controlled by our own paradigms, con- structions, or as the Buddhists say, illusions. Is nature still a god or goddess? Secularized, but potent, life giving and dangerous, death giving? (Shit, how do | declassify myself, or do | - after all, | am a part of nature?) (She enjoyed his presence. How do | get here? She was staring out through the frame of the window at the Lions to the North. They comforted her at a distance. She didn’t consider the imperialism implicit in their naming. She was thinking instead of a friend who had come close to dying out there in those mountains because he didn’t know how to survive in the wilderness. A back country hiker she wasn’t.) continued on page 36... 28 Planet of the Arts / December 1996 She: she: She: REVAOHe a fiction in response to the exhi “Tribute to Ansel Adams” by Sandra Semchuk ‘You don't have to believe in Ansel Adams" transcendental vision in order to appre: ate the myths of the pristine or the sublime wilderness. t's not such a great leap (of the imagination to go from the solitary journey into the desert paradise that. ‘Chast made to, the possibilities of paradise found in the heroic adventurers of the frontier. There must be a deep need for the vast empty wilderness asa place to find communion, a sense of god, or self. 'ts too bad that myth didn’t have room for natives or animals, except as objects to project one’ fears onto. I have my doubts about the solitary adventurer in the ‘deepest wilderness. We appropriate nature as property for our imaginations. We fence it with our methods of inquiry; real estate - emotional, psychic, and intellec- ‘tual property. We don’t give a damn about having good water to drink. Or that the water is full of life and lives, es easier to apply revisionist techniques to history than i so find a way out of this mess. One thing about Mona Lochn's pice ied inthe exhibition was that ‘he took a stand: she was pacing @ noice ofthe deseration ofthe sacred forest in the context of human dysfunction, Knot: we have them in al of our eationship. {She was considering an installation she had seen in Scotland, a walk through » wilderness park. By Manual. The story was from the frees" point of view and articulated their myths of humankind. The trees concluded {hat humans were merely projections figments of tre-framing imagina- tions. By the time she had finished the walk she felt lost ina forest of Signs the sereen was impenetrable) | don't know how to come to know ‘ature. don know. We ca’ just tear apart the screns of ur myths without ‘estroyng the regenerative mechanisms of our culture, ‘four pryches. She had been reading Rene Girard) Al that leaves us thi despa the iaby to ac, See planet Dammit scares me He: (They were back at the Institute, He was ‘nursing a gash on his knee, Immersed in navi- ‘gating the symbols of ‘nature in his head, he had forgotten how to cross a ‘stream on rocks. He was ‘wet and cold, but persis- ‘ent: he wanted to under- stand.) What we are really ‘observing is nature ‘through the filter of our ‘own methods of inquiry — ‘that’s what Helsenburg ‘aid. We're really not les of the mind, a technol- ‘ogy that has become so ‘fraught with the warring ‘of binary opposites and ‘the tearing apart of the ‘world that we're over. ‘whelmed with a sense of the apocalyptic ... we react and react, bound within opposing world views. (She handed him the book, Woman Native Other by Trinh T. Minh- hha. He read the passage that she had underlined outloud.) Sbure “Seeking to perforate meaning by forcing my entry or breaking it open to dissipate what is thought to be secrets seems to me as crippled an act as verifying the sex of ’an unborn child by ripping open the mother's womb. It's typical of a mentality ‘that proves incapable of touching the living thing without crushing Its delicate ness." (6-49) (He stopped and really looked at her. She looked so tired. Her shoulders ‘were pulled inwards. He wanted to comfort her) (She felt his look: she liked it. He had read the passage with meaning in his voice: she knew that he had liked what he read. There was no reason ‘for her surprise, but there it was: he was not what she had thought him to bbe.) When Trinh Minh-ha was here she spoke about crcumnavigation - moving Life Drawing amine ears and tity people ‘students must supply al thei own materia, ‘Tuesdays i.e. board, paper, pencil, ink, conté, charcoal, et. 6-9PM. | sheaenpancedin os gins fee ae en rae tienes a lengths of 1 minute and extending to 30 si : ee ere came oe Spee Sega aat eae S Bieeipitn sia Salina foot facia eset So rater Straten mata cea meat He: she: He: She: tne Sey ‘around that which one is trying to come to know lke the storyteller who uses her ‘Words to bring the child back into kinship with life. Its not about going right to the point, forcing, or controlling. Rather it was more about yielding, oF echoing, or letting nature (perhaps my own nature) shape the story: hearing the audience while speaking, and being prepared to move with them ... or me, fm speaking tO nyse. Hmmm .. guess | am my own audience fist. That makes me think of Brian Foote’s piece (°S HI FT" was written in inverse text below rows of framed images of wild: fess in an urban park. The last row was shifted) My sense is that Brian identifies, ‘with that wildness in the urban context and has the same difficulty in the direct per- ‘ception of himself as he has inthe perception of those plants, trees and rocks in the landscape. There's a directive to the self to move, to shift the frame, the point of reference, to move, perhaps in the subtle ways thatthe leaves ofthe bushes are moving (she hadn't noticed how subtle his hand movements were before.) Oh, there’ a statue of Suddha | aw where endless Buddhas come out of the head of ‘the Buddha... the image of Budaha is only an image, illusion. Brian's work somehow made me reconsider that image inthe context of the dilemma of repre ‘entation, l was interested inthe subtle shifts and movements of the collaged images within the frames, the archeological layering of quiet movements in the brush, the shifts of tones ~ there was a screen, to projec the representation on that had a life ofits own - more like a bodys response than a mind’ response. All ofthis ‘denoted, for me, an inability to fix this wildness which exists stil in the urban reality and within ourselves Yes, and an inability to understand nature, commodity nature - that coming to know, the inquiry process, was dominated or controlled by our own paradigms, con- structions, or as the Buddhists say, illusions. ls nature sil a god or goddess? Secularized, but potent, life giving and dangerous, death giving? (Shit, how do | declassify myself, or do I afterall, |am a part of nature?) (She enjoyed his presence. How do | get here? She was staring out through ‘the frame of the window at the Lions to the North. They comforted her at a distance. She didn’t consider the imperialism implicit in their naming. She was thinking instead of a friend who had come close to dying out ‘there in those mountains because he didn’t know how to survive in the wilderness. A back country hiker she wasn't) es ae