Device for Bending
Device for Bending, as a physical object, is a direct corollary to the sculpture Blade. The “jig” that was used to bend the wood for Blade became the primary visual element in the Device for Bending installation. As artwork, however, Device for Bending originated from a complex and indirect conceptual process radically different from that producing Blade. The resulting art objects are likewise radically different in form. Early in the development of Blade I realized the formal appeal of the device used to bend the wood. And over the months that it took to bend and laminate the wood I became aware of the additional meanings that the jig was acquiring. Evidence of its use as a tool suggested an interesting alternative narrative about the device itself. And in the same manner in which the jig served as a template for bending the wood, its form became a template for the formation of alternate historical narratives.
Societal themes began to emerge in this form. For example, during the summer of 2006 (during the construction of Blade), congress was debating the Supreme Court’s Hamdan vs. Rumsfeld decision. This debate, carefully couched in terminology that obscured the principal issue, involved whether the United States Central Intelligence Agency could engage in “controversial practices” – that is, torture – to gain information that might protect Americans and American interests. Device for Bending, within this context, took on the aspect of a torture device. This particular reading of the device was emphasized by inadvertent spills of red paint that remained on the wood from a previous project.
The ad-hoc nature of the device also gave it an Industrial Revolution aesthetic. This time period is known for its reverence for the machine. Much less reverence was given to the human operator of the machine whose safety was, at best, an afterthought. The power of Lewis W. Hine’s early photography from this period derives from the empathy the viewer feels for the children working long hours in dangerous conditions. The narrative of these photographs does not need to be explicitly completed – the viewer knows it ends in tragedy. The early machine-age aesthetic of Device for Bending therefore touches upon this consciousness of industrial danger. This is supported formally by the residual red paint mentioned earlier, but also by a looming lever that protrudes out of the device at head level. The aggressive positioning of this lever seems threatening and dangerous. Just as we can imagine the end result to the narrative depicted in a Lewis Hines photograph, this aesthetic provides a template for a narrative of industrial danger and tragedy.
The protruding lever at the head level of the viewer can be interpreted as somewhat phallic, while the right angular form of the jig and the curvature of the bent wood that it holds lend themselves to a gendered read on domination and submission that could occupy a Freudian psychoanalyst for years. To amplify these alternate readings of the piece, I covered pieces of the bent wood with cloth and bound them using a black rubber strap. Before wrapping the rubber strap, the cloth was covered in glue that oozed out and dripped on the floor. So there also existed this template for a totally different narrative, one that, like the industrial narrative, is fully supported by the formal aspects of the object, but which is sexual in nature.
And finally, the piece was illuminated by bare light bulbs that were hung low in the sculpture (approximately at eye-level). Not only did these serve to reference and reinforce many of the narratives for which I had supplied a template but they also cast shadows that were both ominous and formally intriguing.
Device for Bending was first presented to an audience in a workshop setting at the University of Iowa School of Art and Art History Intermedia Area. This presentation served as a laboratory in which I could test audience’s interaction with the device. In setting up this installation I attempted to balance the multiple narratives. My intent was to create an environment in which the viewer would become an active participant in creating meaning. For this installation I added an additional meta-narrative to the piece which was intended to raise questions about the truth of the evidence being presented. Beneath the piece was a piece of black plastic, on which I had taped the outline of the sculpture with white tape. I then surrounded the piece with stanchions and red plastic tape printed with the word “Danger.” Both of these elements were intended to present the device as a piece of evidence, with the idea that the viewer would need to provide an answer for what it was evidence of.
Device for Bending was subsequently presented in the first floor gallery of the University of Iowa’s Art Building West (ABW). Whereas the installation in the Intermedia department was in a very rough “bohemian” space (see picture 4), the gallery at ABW is a pristine “white-box” gallery (pictures 1, 2, and 3). After analyzing photos taken while the piece was being dismantled from its Intermedia installation, I decided to eliminate the meta-narrative I had overlaid on the piece. While this overlay was intended to raise questions about evidentiary proof, it seemed to obfuscate rather than clarify the multiple narratives the piece could generate. I was unsure what would happen when I moved Device for Bending from the Intermedia area where it seemed completely at home, but to my extreme pleasure, the piece translated well into the gallery of ABW. While observing viewers’ interactions with the piece, I found willingness, even a desire, among the viewers to supply narratives that reflected their own particular worldviews. To my view, the piece worked.