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Wendy Wahl “Branches”, 2010 Represented by browngrotta arts, Wilton CT Photo: Johnny Borter
Wendy Wahl “Branches”, 2010 Represented by browngrotta arts, Wilton CT Photo: Johnny Borter
Wendy Wahl “Branches”, 2010 Represented by browngrotta arts, Wilton CT Photo: Johnny Borter
A TREE GROWS IN THE PARK AVENUE ARMORY—REFLECTIONS ON SOFA 2010
By Natalie Fasano
The Sculpture Objects and Functional Art Fair (SOFA) 2010 premiered at the Park Avenue Armory on April 15th. An iconic house of New York City Art and Culture,
The Park Avenue Armory was built in the late 19th century, originally conceived as a “military facility and social club” during Lincoln’s presidency. The Armory’s original list of private patrons reads like a who’s who of 19th century New York elite; the founding fathers of publishing, politics, and corporate monopoly—Vanderbilt, Roosevelt and Harriman, among others. Two staircases rise from either side of the pavement, which eventually meet in front of the Armory’s heavy brick and embellished stone façade—one feels many miles above street level at the apex.
For those who may consider decorative arts “much ado about nothing”—a nod to the forthcoming residence of a to-scale Globe replica in the space—something must be said for shows of SOFA’s scope. I did not enjoy every piece of art, sculpture and design at SOFA, which is why I found the exhibit to be so successful. If I had admired everything, I would have felt cheated, an attendee forced to slog through aesthetic redundancy born of singular vision. In my opinion, a person needs to experience both positive and negative reactions to art, in all formats, to further refine their personal relationship with art and augment the experience of eventual ownership.
Neil Brownsword’s textural and earthy ceramic/”factory detritus” composed pieces, Jason Walker’s fragile porcelain figures featuring circular concrete “feet,” Lucy Feller’s wickedly dark digital collage photography inspired by childhood fairy tales, Gordon Chandler’s recovered metal and welded steel structures conveying a wonderfully discordant sense of vibrant decay, Rik Allen’s otherworldly blown glass sculptures, Elizabeth Gavotti’s slender bronze figures, Ritsue Mashima’s “spun” glass vase—were my favorites.
If this amalgam reads like a breathless and circuitous odyssey within the Armory—it was. If a majority of my time was expended in energetic wandering, the rest was passed in suspended contemplation of one work. I anticipated Wendy Wahl’s contribution, “branches,” with cautious curiosity. Touted as a “Monumental Installation” featured prominently in the entryway, ‘branches” was the obvious hype piece; it would either sink or swim.
It swam. An arresting black and white tree greeted guests upon arrival; to me, it was texturally reminiscent of tightly tiered cocktail napkins. Wahl’s choice of both subject and materials—not napkins after all, but discarded and deconstructed pages from the Encyclopedia Britannica, aptly conveyed her “ hope [that the piece] will resonate with the viewer...I want [people] …to question their relationship to the natural world…How does a multitude of new ways to communicate alter our understanding of meaning and significance?”
For some, the Britannica is a symbol of the past, an arduously constructed, and expensively printed, multi-volume tome of Western knowledge. It is a compendium of everything that publishers knew at the time, and of sufficient editorial and physical breadth, until the 21st century Age of Technology, to insure a healthy shelf life. Our newfound ability to deliver a constant multi-media maelstrom; of sound, audio and video news, sourced and delivered to the minute—scurrilously or not—has drastically altered the role of print in modern society. The definition of “late-breaking news” has never been kept on such a short leash.
In Wahl’s tree, I discovered two possible interpretations; one of the times, and one for the Times. To the former, Wahl’s tree represents print media’s mummified corpse, a figure strangled beneath its own, dead weight. The latter, however, provides hope. Wahl’s tree is no longer a requiem but and ode to language as a living organism. The experience of print; the subtle rustling of the turned leaf, the heavily inked and bleeding margin, the earmarked page, to me are represented here. “Branches” actively promotes the confederacy between the page and the reader, calling us all to invest in words with extended, rather than protracted, meaning. Leave late-breaking news and superficial novellas to technology. I saw life in Wahl’s tree, and I’m not sure that it would have been half as beautiful had it been constructed with iPads.
SOFA 2010 aptly chose a collective over a singular vision, providing something for everyone rather than everything for someone. I found inspiration at the Armory—I discovered a moving ode to print, a newfound interest in ceramics and a desire to return next year. Let’s hope I find something I don’t like.
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