Just the Pictures

2004-08-07T20:28:00.000-06:00

About Helen

2004-08-06T13:42:00.000-06:00

There is, a movie of these images (WITH music!) online in my "cyber-closet" if you wish to download it. The address is:

http://ronirokit.fastmail.fm/

The File is named Lady2.

What follows is a summary of my journal of the five 12 hour days I spent constructing Helen, Art's Wife. She is the first sculpture I ever attempted. And she is dedicated to the all the women of my life: their passion, their wisdom, their frailties, their craziness, their wisdom, their strengths, their expression and the moments in between when they feel lost.

Of course it starts with my mother. During the conception of this sculpture I was living under the notion that she would soon be leaving us and moving into that seemingly empty place where Alzheimers takes folks. My family and I were attending support groups, she was trying the various medications. We were scrambling about trying to get a grip on something far beyond our grasp. Before I left for the prairie to begin construction she had begun taking an anti-depressant to help her with the effects of the other drugs she was taking to slow the progress of the disease. And she began to get better. After returning from the prairie the doctor had changed her diagnosis to depression - something which could be and has since been treated and cured. Happy ending American style- you really can't knock it when it happens.

I was also missing the women in my life. Most of my life I have been fortunate to have had many amazing ladies around. I wanted to have a way to bring them all together somehow (which probably wouldn't be terribly pleasant but would make one hell of a documentary) and be able to visit them when I wanted to.

DAY 1

Day one started with the idea and the journey. Like most things I guess.

The idea had been developing for a couple of months, I had lost my bed to the idea as I was planning a life size sculpture and the only place I had to work on it was on my bed, so I had been sleeping on the couch and floor for about a week. It was time to try and do it.

The journey out to the house I know well: it's about an hour and a half of of highway and a half hour of dirt and then grass road. I left as early as possible to make the most of my time there. The prairie was in full flower and my car was full of bottles and wires and bits of paper covered with note and lots of loud lovely music from my rapidly aging selection of mixed tapes.

This is the sky which greeted me:

I first decided on the spot for the statue: it's about a one minute walk (southwest) from the house:

My first job was to set up a work area and dig into the earth to plant the foundation I had come up with in my bedroom. I had tried to plan for everything but had no idea how it would translate from my bed to the field. I Four iron bars are cemented three feet into the earth and two by two they are inserted into the thighs (two magnum red wine bottles from the south american restaurant down the street...) and form the shin bones. Hopefully that will give her a strong enough base to withstand the winds out there.

The calves are: left- a bombay sapphire gin bottle from a friend who tends a bar (it's her gin-leg), right: a fish shaped bottle which contained the worst white wine I have ever had to drink to justify buying a bottle. the positioning has her stepping onto her left leg and into the wind...

That was about as far i got the first day. as always out on the prairie setting up took along time (not to mention the two hour drive out there...)

It didn't look like much- and what's with the metal shorts? hmmmm.

But I was happy to know that she had a solid base and lovely calves... I worked until sunset, took a picture of the sunset and went back into the house excited and exhausted, thinking about proportion and perspective and anatomy (none of which i really know much about). I wondered how far up I would get before she fell down, if she would be there in the morning, if she would look anything remotely feminine...

But Mlle Chose has made this spot on the prairie a place to try things and learn about what you can and can't do. I had spent about ten hours beginning something which I had been preparing for for about two months. So no turning back...

Mlle Chose arrived as I was about to hit the bed, we took a walk out in the dark to see what I had accomplished by flashlight. Who knows what she could think of those four bottles standing up in the grass...

She would be there for most of the week with me and was a great help in helping me think about the sculpture. Without her I would not have remembered to eat and take the occasional break. plus she supplied the land and the three bags of cement and the music from her ipod wafting over from the house kept me singing out in the field and helped me to ignore the biting flies and hot sun and the accumulation of cuts on my arms and legs from the metal structure.

And of course she and I have a great time.

DAY 2

...began before dawn. I awoke and made coffee, as I drank it I went back and forth to the site carrying all the things I had not wanted to get wet by the dew which was been thick. By the time Mlle Chose had awoken I was already at the building up of the legs, trying to make sense of how we are all put together- and how to start making the gin and fish bottles look more like calves than bottles. That required shins and knees. I wore my shorts mostly to have a quick reference...

As it is impossible to build up the cement too quickly (it tends to droop a lot if you put on too much at once...) I started working on the womb area and the buttocks. The buttocks are two small chianti bottles, bit of an odd choice I guess. I justified it in my head by thinking that it was not quite the derriere of a woman but more the derriere she seems to think she has... heh.

It was a woman who once told me that justifications are the easiest thing to find. The effect of the buttocks mellowed somewhat when I remembered and added the hips - at least that is what tell myself.

The womb was to be my first attempt at something symbolic or maybe meaningful or maybe fun. It is made of two big fancy glass salad/dessert bowls placed together so that they form a sphere. They're held in place by the metal "shorts" that were placed on top of the thigh bottles. another sheet of metal lathe was placed between them to provide further structure as I built upwards- eventually it would become the two arms- I hoped. At the time though the lathing mostly kept slashing cuts into my arms and chest. The blood attracting the flies, the flies biting. Between the sunscreen, the insect repellent and the blood I was a bit of a sticky mess, but I didn't really notice it. I only remember it now. Funny that.

Then again at the time I was fighting the wind and the cement and gravity.

Inside the womb I placed a snow globe. One of those things you buy in different cities and when you shake them bits of white stuff fall about whatever city has had the misfortune to be trapped inside. This one has a cupid instead of a city, it says "love" beneath the cupid and when you shake it there are red hearts instead of snow stuff. It is placed on one of two thick ashtrays I acquired while cleaning someone's basement. Falling about the globe are Mardi Gras beads... I was really happy with the way the light came through from the back.

I guess the idea behind this part is pretty self explanatory= love comes from the gut, the center, le ventre, and though my knowledge of female anatomy is limited in some respects, I do know that it's somewhere around there that we are conceived...

While working with cement you must constantly keep it wet so that it doesn't dry too quickly and crack. at the end of each day there is a slow cleaning process (with a toothbrush...) to make sure that the drips do not stick to the glass - so the images are in various states...

Another thing which happens is that moisture tends to collect inside the bottles and glassware. especially in the sun. At first I tried to figure out how to prevent this so that all could be seen and nice and pretty, but as it began to happen with the womb I realized that I liked it better. You can still see in- but it looks like a warm, misty almost magical place. I started thinking about how i see women and it is true that you are all full of all these misty, magical compartments. Places where one must take a moment to peer inside - if one is allowed. That may be a very un-politically correct thing to say, but I mean it as a compliment and perhaps a wee bit of envy... hmmmm... better stop there before I dig myself in too deep!

The other thing I wanted to do was create the pubis or vagina or something down there... I had brought with me a salad dressing bottle that I had thought to use (They tend to be triangular here)- though there was a vulgarity to using such a bottle there that made me almost relieved when it broke.

I had to find something else. I went back to the house and Mlle Chose was working on the bathroom walls. As I went into the house I mumbled that I needed to make a vagina and didn't know how...

I came back out of the house with a hammer and she said " Oh! you're gonna do it like God!"

That Mlle Chose...

I had a large bit of mirror, I brought the hammer down on it and there it was. Just like God?

Now this being the first time I ever made a representation of a woman's sex, I was a bit nervous. I would love to say that it had some great significance for me to make it that way but it seems to say a lot more to the women who have seen it than I think any man could ever understand.
I love the way it reflects the grass...

That's as far as I got on day two. It was a twelve-hour-non-stop day... and I still didn't want to stop. I was just beginning to see "her" , how she might look...
I Left her looking like a butterfly for the night - her wire wings swaying in the breeze.

I knew I wouldn't sleep and I knew I had to (which always helps to fall asleep!)

DAY 3

...was gorgeous, crazy and fun. It was again long and in someways back breaking, but we're talking about being in the "Zone". That place where it all just starts coming together- worries flee, technique becomes second nature and inspiration rolls out of you like children down a grassy slope on a sunny day.

heh.

Thinking about it now though, this used to be a scary place for me. In my previous incarnation it was the place where my inner censor started seducing me... waiting for the first thing to go wrong. Then it would make a cynical remark and convince me that my doubts were more important than the free-wheeling feeling I was getting from the flow.

It's a bit like when an adult tells you that you can't roll down the hill anymore because you've skinned your knee. Then the thought of no more rolling you gives have nothing to focus on but the skinned knee - so it hurts more...

It was also the time when even the most well meant, constructive and encouraging comment could feel like a public lashing. So odd that was. It was the cause of so many misunderstandings, so many faulty explanations...

But that didn't happen out there... partially because of the fact that there was no one else out in the field with me- except for the occasional visit from Mlle Chose to see what I was doing (and take a picture), and, I would like to think, partially because my inner censor was so quieted by the fact that I didn't know what I was doing because I didn't know what I was doing.

So I got to roll all day and skin my knees as much as I could.

I began building up.

First by setting up a little "altar of the soul" or "center of operations" above the womb area:
The scene is composed of the following:
A green glass electricity conductor supporting a "snow globe" containing the virgin mary (from garage sales.)
A spoon I stole from meal at a Thai restaurant where I had dined with Isnel and her mother Seka (was it Paris?).
Three glass orbs I once bought Somewhere.
A six month medal from alcoholics anonymous- Mlle Chose's gift.
A watch Mlle Chose gave me when I first arrived in this country two years ago without anyway of telling time.
A piece of fools gold I must have picked up somewhere.
Two small tin mexican icon- one of a leg (the kind you offer a saint in a church to portect your legs) one of a skull (the kind you offer a beloved on the Day of the Dead).
Some fake plastic pearls:

All this is encapsulated in a thick glass vase I found in the alley.

Above the torso there are two water glasses (from the trash). They form the interiors of the breasts. And coming out the back represent the "wings" we have when we move our arms- i forget what they're called... The left water glass is filled with keys. driving over the keys is a toy truck carrying a hematite heart.

The interior of the left breast is filled with coins from all over the world, on top of the coins is a champagne cork with the metal bit showing the "veuve cliquot" looking out the back.
Under the left is an olive oil bottle to fill out the torso.

The left breast is the other ashtray, the right: a pink candy dish. They are NOT the same size (see I have been paying attention)

Under the right breast there is a small candle holder with a door handle from a car. it comes from the car of a girl (now a woman) named Susie. I knew her in high school and the handle broke off in my hand the night she took me out to celebrate my escape from suburbia many many years ago. It looks like a bit like rib. Underneath it is a square glass box containing a stone which has a good fortune message written on it in japanese- a lucky appendix.

So what does it all mean?
Well, it all means a lot maybe... Every piece has its significance somehow. Someone asked if each piece represented one woman in my life.
As if my life was THAT neat and organised...
But no, there was no itemized list. Everything just needed to be there to tell the story.
And the story is chaotic and at times incoherent and can be told forward and backwards- as feminine as it gets gentlemen.

That's how day three was. And it was a lot of fun!

DAY 4

...brought the shoulders and the head and the beginning of the arms.

She was taking shape, becoming complete, and I was still surprised each dawn that she was still there.
But she's big and strong, though fragile and intricate.

A lot of structure work that day: trying to figure out how to make the arms hang free, building the head and it was time to start thinking about how the hands might work.

The wind was also picking up, making it necessary for me to hold parts very still while the cement took hold. This slowed me down but in a way that was a good thing- the week was ending and I was dreading leaving the experience.

The shoulders are two blue glass candle holders. A sun and a moon. They formed a bridge down to the arms. the biceps are peanut butter jars with a plastic horse running inside each of them. The forearms are a grappa bottle and a lovely chardonnay bottle.

In my preparations for the week I had found a glass mannequin's head at a garage sale... I was very happy with it... and then, while experimenting with it, I broke it - the neck, mouth and part of the right ear were gone. To fix it I had to reconstruct those parts out of cement. I built it up on a dessert bowl, placing a small purple bottle as the mouth. Inside the head are shards of mirror that reflect back the person looking in but also reflect her eyes within. Behind the mirrors are a small bottle and bits of broken blue and green glass. the earring hangs free and moves in the wind. Though the jawline is distorted I actually like it more than the unbroken head.

Oh! and the bottle opening which makes her mouth sings in the wind- I actually chose the bottle for its tone, that it was purple was a bonus! It's lovely when she sings.

The skull is placed on a dessert bowl which serves as a neck. Underneath the dessert bowl (in the neck) I placed a wooden egg. The kind they give you at a bridal party or baptism filled with small candied almonds. Some friends had once brought me one from Italy. It fit.

The placement of the head and neck on the body was very intense. Mostly because I knew that I only had one chance to get it on right without breaking it. It was heavy and delicate. The moment I lifted the head and balanced it the wind came. I spent an hour an a half: holding it for fifteen minutes waiting for the cement to set a bit, waiting for the wind to calm for a moment, diving down to the wet cement and bouncing back up to apply it, then repeating the whole process again and again.

I then placed a shell necklace around her neck and cemented it down.

And there she was. With the head on solid she became herself.

Before I knew it the day was ending and i had to leave her to the night.

DAY 5

The last day, finishing hands, finishing touches, cleaning up, going back to the city.

The hands are odd, I admit, but they are oddly expressive too. I like the way they stretch out and show themselves. They reach down to the ground and you can see the sky through them.

The fingers are made up of bits of this and that: crystals, keys, bottles and a small padlock. the bottles which form the palms and thumbs are left open... so the thumbs "sing" like the mouth- but different tones...

After she was all there, there was a huge cleaning process- and a lot of pictures to take... heh heh...

Here's the portrait:

A small front view:

The back view:

And if you remember way back on day one the photo of the "spot" well here's the after shot:
It was only after I got home and saw this picture that I noticed the circle I had worn out around her in the prairie... I didn't notice it there- I only had eyes for her... ;)

This is my favorite shot, this is what I was looking for, I had chosen that spot so that she could relate to the vastness of the land and the unlimited sky. I had placed her facing into the strongest wind and had made her as aerodynamic as possible so that she could withstand it. I'm still kind of amazed that she is still there.

Here's the view from the road as I left:

I arrived back in town and the next day I heard on the news that there were severe storms out around her- with hail the size of golf balls... I thought about all the delicate parts and how they might shatter under such an onslaught... I had a moment of panic- wanted to drive back out there and cover her.

Then I remembered that I had thought a lot about that in the weeks preparation and while I was building her.

And what I had thought was this: there wasn't a thing I could do about it. She would eventually fall apart and all I could do was construct her was so that when she eventually fell apart she would do so as elegantly as as possible... and still retain her beauty ... like a lady, like my ladies.

When I went out there the next time she still stood solid.

That's it then, end of the story. I hope you all have liked it and like the sculpture. perhaps one day you'll see her...

As to her name: it comes from a time back in New York when I was walking through the Whitney Biennale in the 80's. I came upon a group of people standing in front of what looked to be a huge tangle of electric wire/pubic hair. The group kept asking each other if it was art, they asked so many times that I finally said "no it's not Art, it's Helen, Art's wife"

Nobody got it.

P.S.
Two years later and she's still out there with little damage. The gin bottle calf muscle seemed to have exploded in the cold of the winter but I was able to replace it. She has become a comforting figure out in the field and I am always amazed to see her still standing there when I look out the window or I as I drive up. The birrds have also taken a fancy to her and perch themselves up on her head. There isn't much else to perch upon out there. Though I've gotten better at the techniques and such with my second sculpture I still love seeing her. She is not as finely wrought as he but the way she seems to erupt from the emptiness is ten times more impressive to me than his delicateness.

Still, musn't try to compare them.

But you never forget your first...