Rapunzel

Let's start with just a physical description of the work.  Julian used to have a loft bed, one corner of which was suspended by a cable from the ceiling.  His bed's now on the ground but the eyelet is still attached on the ceiling.  A cable (in this case, our dog-runner leash that we use to tie Bilbo up outside) is attached and extends out through the window, across the yard, and attaches to an identical eyelet installed on the floor of my studio.  The cable isn't actually long enough so I've attached some rope that utilizes my two favorite knots- the bowline knot and another one that I don't know the name of (if it has one)- but it's a very simple device for tightening a rope and securing it to maintain tension.  The tension is the primary point of the piece.

Years ago I became fascinated by the concept of tension as a positive force- a force that seeks resolution and thus moves one forward and driving the process of creation.  And it's not just in art this occurs, but everywhere in life- our careers, our relationships.  Unfortunately the feeling associated with tension is negative and leads to people trying to avoid it, which also denies them the opportunity and the reward of working through it.

So I've toyed with several ideas using tension.  Then I saw a video on the artist Robert Irwin who posed this question: "If you could make an artwork that was absolutely amazing, but would only last for 20 minutes, would you still make it?"  The idea goes against many people's idea that art is a precious object.  The fact that museums exist to harbor and protect these special objects endows perhaps too much emphasis on the object itself. (I'm often asked, when doing something abstract, "What is it?"- a question that also reflects this emphasis on the thing).

But what Robert Irwin was getting at was that the true 'art' was the experience of viewing it.  Indeed, to truly appreciate art it is more important to ask 'What is it doing?' or 'How is it making me feel?' rather than 'What is it?'  This shifts the emphasis onto the art's effect on the viewer, where lies its true value.

So I've challenged myself with this notion of not creating objects that exist in perpetuity.  So at times, I've brought clamps or ratcheting tie-downs when I visit someplace and do temporary tension sculptures designed to give me, and any other viewer, an experience but that, at the end of the day/trip, gets taken down- never to exist again.

Rapunzel is just such a piece.  I can recreate it at any time and will do so from time to time.  It can be redone in other locations and have similar effects but in this iteration it is definitely temporary as I can't shut my studio door, and the children can't shut their window, while it's installed.  Furthermore, it's placement adds to the meaning.  I'm particularly intrigued with the two poles in this piece- one being my studio, the other being my family.  If this piece were recreated in a different location, that aspect would change or disappear entirely.

I personally don't read a whole lot into the title 'Rapunzel'- but I don't discourage its associations.  I appreciate the humor of it seeing as the piece goes through an upstairs window.  But the story of Rapunzel also speaks of imprisonment and redemption, and connections with the outside world around us.  These themes can definitely be brought to bear on one's experience of the piece.

But my experience brings me back to the tension that holds the cable/rope in place in space.  It strikes me on a visceral level (in fact, I'm for renaming 'visual art' as 'visceral art.')  The tension affects me.   The tension creates the meaning.