The Long Now : JSMA

Child's rendition of the JORDAN SCHNITZER ART MUSSEME
from website

The Long Now, now on view at the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art on the University of Oregon campus and showcasing broad collection of work by current art faculty members, is a complicated show to digest. Organized by independent New York curator Stamatina Gregory, the title itself refers to the only perceptible common thread: these are artists working in “a now of shared place and time…a protracted present.” Time, or an extension of such, is what the exhibition pamphlet claims these works by dissimilar artists have in common, because “to produce and to engage with objects is to –if unconsciously - collapse and expand one’s sense of time.”

Upon walking through the exhibition, I was not struck by any particularly strong sense of time in relation to the show as a whole nor to any specific work. Really what struck me was that, as a collection and upon first impression, it felt vaguely menacing. As operatic female vocals projected from one piece and co-mingled with the chirping insects and buzzing flies of another that combined with girlish weeping projected from a separate piece, it became difficult to ignore the disquieting symphony building and echoing throughout the space.

This strange background music almost reinforced the disjointed nature of the show. Although time/place is an appropriately wide “theme” in which to situate the works, the density and variety of ideas only made it more difficult to absorb any conception of what the artists were trying to achieve. There is no doubt that each work in the show is fully conceived in the mind of the artist, but much of it had its own degree of unexpected impenetrability. Perhaps this is the role of the gallery talk to be the true dispenser of enlightenment, but for a show with such a wide berth of content set in a venue devoted to the “appreciation and enjoyment of the visual arts for the general public” (as per the JSMA Mission Statement), a bit of explanatory wall text might have been appropriate. It would, at least, help the work achieve a more readily approachable quality.

The Meteor/Biodesic

Although some of the works in the show are effective as fanciful visual stimuli, whatever content or meaning that is intended to be suggested here escapes me.  The material list for Jack Ryan’s Weeping Meteor, Weeping Biodesic, (culprit of aforementioned tearful laments) includes one “metaphysical quartz crystal.” Said crystal is arranged on the floor, adjacent to the weeping wooden sphere/meteor/biodesic, placed in a line with other miniature objects ranging from tiny ears and lightswitches to sugar cubes and a white whale. These seemingly arbitrary items are aligned in a way that suggests forethought and intention but read more as a game of “Which of these things does not belong?” This kind of complexity can sometimes be exciting and fascinating, but within the context of the show (already complex in the scope of ideas expressed by so many different artists) it reads as heady and bewildering. Although the pleasantly geometric and attractively lit “meteor” is exciting to look at, it is this kind of conceptual nirvana that exists at a level unattainable by the casual viewer.

Password, another eye catching installation by faculty member Tannaz Farsi, acts in a similar way. A large glitter block-letter rendering of the word THEM hangs high on the wall, framed by fluorescent tube lights. Underneath rests “unused greeting cards” in a stack and what appears to be unsightly yet artfully placed black dead roses. Using heavily symbolic media like greeting cards and flowers, Password reeks of content that lies just out of reach. This work somehow achieves the impossible: a certain pungent sentimentality coexisting with the difficulty to relate.  

Tide Hunting screen capture

However, there were pieces that were refreshingly the opposite. Ying Tan’s video works Breathing Tide/Perpetual Motion and Tide Hunting had both a humor and self-awareness that many of the other works lacked. In Tide Hunting, ocean birds are shown skittering across the sand while frantically pecking at food and avoiding the swell of the upcoming tide, all set to a dramatic Bartok accompaniment. In their feverish and chaotic quest for sustenance exists an easy metaphor for the chaotic, absurd, and falsely urgent nature of human life.

Breathing Tide/Perpetual Motion felt like the antithesis to Tide Hunting’s commotion, showing only a persistent close-up of the slow incoming tide or the natural churning and bubbling of waves. It was easy to become hypnotized, relishing in the simplicity of the act of staring at moving water and the complexity of the constant percolating motion itself. Tan’s video work operates on a much more approachable level (compared to other work in the show) that feels effortless in its nuances.

From Ying Tan's Perpetual Motion

Sylvan Lionni’s Bloodstream II and III was similarly effective in its invitation for quiet reflection. Capturing the image of his blood flow by positioning his thumb over an Iphone camera, Lioni’s pulse subtly drummed through the large scarlet rectangular projections. Not only did it recall “the pairing of body and devices” but the pairing of then and now. It is the same immersive effect a Rothko color field painting might have but with an exaggerated sense of the artists body and connection to a more real human element. Bloodstream II and III proves that appreciation of pure color can mean even more when it’s a literal expression of a human body, a literal beating heart.

Although the show as a whole read partly as chaotic, dense and dimly impersonal, there were parts I really did appreciate and that felt important, engaging and very “NOW”.  I must add the disclaimer that these are all personal opinions that I could happily revisit and play my own devil’s advocate to. I am not a trained art historian past an undergraduate minor and am far from being versed in the language of sculpture/installation (which seemed to earn the brunt of my criticism). I also left out a whole lot of work in the show because, let’s face it, this blog post is long enough! The Long Now is definitely a show worth seeing, and although it is a wide loosely-related collection, that may just mean there is something for everyone.

OPEN NOW THROUGH APRIL 8, 2012

Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art Hours:

Tuesday: 11:00 am - 5:00 pm
Wednesday: 11:00 am - 8:00 pm
Thurs- Sat: 11:00 am - 5:00 pm