Keeping Space Alive with Light: Yumi Kori

I read an article titled “Keeping Space Alive with Light: Yumi Kori,” by Jonathan Goodman, which is featured in the June 2006 issue of Sculpture magazine. The artist, Yumi Kori, is presented in this article as a person who is very sensual and in touch with her physical and spiritual self. She spent some time meditating in India, and attended college in Japan where she learned architecture. (Goodman, 56). These two influences have led Kori to become a person who is very in touch with the physical manifestation of space that sculpture advocates, however she attempts to create a sense of mystery in her works by involving light and sound. For these reasons, Goodman describes Kori’s works as multifaceted arrangements which incorporate many more elements than just physical materials. Kori mostly procures locations where she can set up site-specific installations. Her creations have been featured in cities across the world, including Tokyo, Berlin, Seattle, and New York (Goodman, 56).

Kori’s works stand out to me as sculptures because they are deliberate arrangements of various elements that synthesize a unique viewing experience. Kori uses traditional features of physical creation, such as materials, but combines them with light and sound to go beyond sculpture and create an entire experience. These numerous elements engulf viewers through the effective use of large spaces and the way that lighting is arranged to create shadows. The shadows hide and reveal more refined details of the various installations, and in turn create “a new spatial experience for its inhabitants,” Kori says (Goodman, 56). Almost all of Kori’s works are accompanied by an “ambient sound environment”—also a work of art—created by musician Bernhard Gal (Goodman, 56).

What generates interest in Kori’s pieces is largely her use of lighting, specifically fluorescent lamps. Light as an intangible concept is something which “expresses itself in unlimited space,” says Goodman, making it a peculiar substance to craft with (56). Kori’s installation at the Phatory Gallery in New York, titled Green Balloon, features a 24-square-meter room filled with green balloons which cover green fluorescent lamps. The lamps border the room, the walls are white, and balloons are of varying sizes, some with much more air than others. In some areas of the room, the balloons are sparse and a wooden floor can be seen. In others, balloons are stacked and cover the lights. The contrast of crowded versus empty spaces combines with the bordering lights to remind the viewer that this exhibit is bounded by the walls of the room it occupies. Further, the way light shines through the green balloons to illuminate the entire room gives the viewer a feeling of inclusiveness, as the height of the room is accented by light terminating on the ceiling.

Kori’s background and training have made her particularly sensitive to movement through time and space (Goodman, 59). Eastern and Western influences have shaped her style of creation into one which is acutely aware of physical limitations (architecture), but set free by spiritual and mythical promises (lighting). Referring to Green Balloon, a sense of the space inside which the sculpture exists is artfully crafted, however sensual elements are also included. Each balloon in the exhibit was blown up by a gallery visitor—in a manner reminiscent of Asian collectivism—which interacts with the lights to create a sense of mystery accented by shadows, and a general diffusion of light. It is Kori’s effective combination of physical matter, light, and sound which led me to write about her sculptures.

What I find so inspiring about Kori’s creations is that they take sculpture a step further by setting physical creations in environments which fuse elements together in a way that surrounds viewers. My only experience with this idea so far has been an explanation by Professor of Sculpture Andy Holtin of American University of how the setting in which a finished sculpture is placed can dramatically alter a viewer’s perception of that piece. I have always thought of sculptures as consisting of defined physical objects that are created using physical materials, and which are made great by using any number of special variables, including material, scale, and space. My definition of sculpture has been redefined, however, after reading and learning about Yumi Kori’s works. I had never considered before the notion that light and music, concepts which are not physically tangible, can contribute to defining a sculpture. When viewing sculptures from now on, I will assess more critically the presence of non-tangible elements as features of a sculpture that integrate to make a complete work.

Works Cited

Goodman, Jonathan. "Keeping Space Alive with Light: Yumi Kori." Sculpture Jun. 2006: 54-59. Print.

Models of Things: Chris Burden

I chose to read an article titled “Models of Things: A Conversation with Chris Burden,” by Collette Chattopadhyay, which is featured in the March 2009 issue of Sculpture magazine. Chris Burden makes pieces of art that I consider to be sculpture from “component parts that either are or look like parts found in toy building kits” (Collette Chattopadhyay, “Models of Things: A Conversation with Chris Burden,” 55). Burden focuses on recreating bridges and skyscrapers out of Erector and Meccano parts that I once also used as a child. When Burden first became interested in this style of work, he tried to obtain authentic, antique parts from building kits sold a long time ago. As he produced more works with these authentic parts over a number of years, he realized that there weren’t enough pieces left in the world to keep up with the scale at which he was producing, necessitating the use of new materials. By scale, I mean that even though Burden constructs miniatures of his source structures, the size of his recreations is still something to marvel at. While his very first ‘warm-up’ creation was only about 1 x 3 x .5 ft in size, his grandest production stands in front of Rockefeller Center at a towering 65 feet tall. (Chattopadhyay, 55-59).

The author of the article presents Burden as an artist in an emerging field that incorporates architecture and the illusion of reality, which seeks to craftily challenge the boundary between reality and representation. As an example, Burden’s first bridge piece weighs five pounds, but can support 500 pounds of weight, roughly keeping with the essence of a bridge’s functionality (Chattopadhyay, 56). It is this “pure and clear” definition of a bridge’s function that Burden claims is a particular appeal to producing bridge models (Chattopadhyay, 59). Keeping this in mind, Burden’s work is presented as meticulous and methodical. Because he uses small Erector and Meccano pieces in many of his works, Burden’s creations can have tens of thousands of components, including one with a million parts.

Several things about Burden’s work generate considerable interest in his productions. First, the grandness and intricate nature of his works indicate an immense level of planning, and concentrated execution by a team of assistants. Secondly, Burden’s works meet with their source structures in both appearance and functionality. Most known for his bridges, Burden’s pieces look remarkably similar to the original man-made structures from which they’re modeled, which can be found in various parts of the world. Several of his works, including the skyscraper What My Dad Gave Me, 2002, and the bridge Tyne Bridge, 2002, are actually displayed in locations from where a view of the original structure is available.

The factor which adds such realism to Burden’s works is the small size parts he builds with. The small parts which come together to form large complete structures allow Burden to incorporate a very profound level of detail into his works. This brings us to the third, and most important, appeal of Burden’s creations: his ability to challenge the constraints of the materials he uses. Many of the bridges that he has modeled contain curves in their design. Erector and Meccano set pieces are rectangular and generally resist designers’ wishes to make them more curvilinear. Burden says the trick is that “there’s a little bit of slope at the end of each form, so each one is slightly aligned to build the curve” (Chattopadhyay, 59). Taking on the challenge of creating curves out of very rigid materials adds an extra layer of dimension to Burden’s works, and one that I find most appealing.

Burden claims in the interview that the idea of maintaining function when building bridges—to support weight—always appealed to him. What I find so inspiring about Burden’s work, it follows, is the fact that despite the scale of his bridges being far reduced from their original sizes, function and form can still be maintained in the final products. His bridges look like the originals and support weight on similar ratios as the originals, but are incredibly small compared to the real-life bridges which they mimic. Overcoming the limitations of his materials, the fact that function and form can be maintained in the face of severely diminished scale changes my understanding of what is possible in sculpture. An amateur in the field of sculpture, I always assumed that with decreased scale, some other facet of an object’s design would ultimately suffer during a model reproduction. Burden’s sculptures have trumped my assumption, and altered my expectations for my own performance in the future.

Works Cited

Chattopadhyay, Collette. "Models of Things: A Conversation with Chris Burden." Sculpture Mar. 2009: 54-59. Print.

Models of Things: Chris Burden

I chose to read an article titled “Models of Things: A Conversation with Chris Burden,” by Collette Chattopadhyay, which is featured in the March 2009 issue of Sculpture magazine. Chris Burden makes pieces of art that I consider to be sculpture from “component parts that either are or look like parts found in toy building kits” (Collette Chattopadhyay, “Models of Things: A Conversation with Chris Burden,” 55). Burden focuses on recreating bridges and skyscrapers out of Erector and Meccano parts that I once also used as a child. When Burden first became interested in this style of work, he tried to obtain authentic, antique parts from building kits sold a long time ago. As he produced more works with these authentic parts over a number of years, he realized that there weren’t enough pieces left in the world to keep up with the scale at which he was producing, necessitating the use of new materials. By scale, I mean that even though Burden constructs miniatures of his source structures, the size of his recreations is still something to marvel at. While his very first ‘warm-up’ creation was only about 1 x 3 x .5 ft in size, his grandest production stands in front of Rockefeller Center at a towering 65 feet tall. (Chattopadhyay, 55-59).

The author of the article presents Burden as an artist in an emerging field that incorporates architecture and the illusion of reality, which seeks to craftily challenge the boundary between reality and representation. As an example, Burden’s first bridge piece weighs five pounds, but can support 500 pounds of weight, roughly keeping with the essence of a bridge’s functionality (Chattopadhyay, 56). It is this “pure and clear” definition of a bridge’s function that Burden claims is a particular appeal to producing bridge models (Chattopadhyay, 59). Keeping this in mind, Burden’s work is presented as meticulous and methodical. Because he uses small Erector and Meccano pieces in many of his works, Burden’s creations can have tens of thousands of components, including one with a million parts.

Several things about Burden’s work generate considerable interest in his productions. First, the grandness and intricate nature of his works indicate an immense level of planning, and concentrated execution by a team of assistants. Secondly, Burden’s works meet with their source structures in both appearance and functionality. Most known for his bridges, Burden’s pieces look remarkably similar to the original man-made structures from which they’re modeled, which can be found in various parts of the world. Several of his works, including the skyscraper What My Dad Gave Me, 2002, and the bridge Tyne Bridge, 2002, are actually displayed in locations from where a view of the original structure is available.

The factor which adds such realism to Burden’s works is the small size parts he builds with. The small parts which come together to form large complete structures allow Burden to incorporate a very profound level of detail into his works. This brings us to the third, and most important, appeal of Burden’s creations: his ability to challenge the constraints of the materials he uses. Many of the bridges that he has modeled contain curves in their design. Erector and Meccano set pieces are rectangular and generally resist designers’ wishes to make them more curvilinear. Burden says the trick is that “there’s a little bit of slope at the end of each form, so each one is slightly aligned to build the curve” (Chattopadhyay, 59). Taking on the challenge of creating curves out of very rigid materials adds an extra layer of dimension to Burden’s works, and one that I find most appealing.

Burden claims in the interview that the idea of maintaining function when building bridges—to support weight—always appealed to him. What I find so inspiring about Burden’s work, it follows, is the fact that despite the scale of his bridges being far reduced from their original sizes, function and form can still be maintained in the final products. His bridges look like the originals and support weight on similar ratios as the originals, but are incredibly small compared to the real-life bridges which they mimic. Overcoming the limitations of his materials, the fact that function and form can be maintained in the face of severely diminished scale changes my understanding of what is possible in sculpture. An amateur in the field of sculpture, I always assumed that with decreased scale, some other facet of an object’s design would ultimately suffer during a model reproduction. Burden’s sculptures have trumped my assumption, and altered my expectations for my own performance in the future.

Works Cited

Chattopadhyay, Collette. "Models of Things: A Conversation with Chris Burden." Sculpture Mar. 2009: 54-59. Print.