My main influence for my art practice goes back to Richard
Sennett’s The Craftsman, in particular the chapter Material Consciousness.
Sennett states that we are interested in and become engaged with material when
we see it change. When it is in the moment of change.
Sennett states material change happens in three distinct
ways.
“…Metamorphosis, presence, and anthropomorphosis.
Metamorphosis can be as direct as a change in procedure, as when potters switch
from molding clay on a fixed platter to building it up on a rotating wheel;
potters who do both will be conscious of the difference in technique. Presence
can be registered simply by leaving a maker’s mark, such as a brickmaker’s
stamp. Anthropomorphosis occurs when we impute human qualities to a raw
material; supposedly primitive cultures imagine that spirits dwell in a tree,
and so in a spear cut from its wood; sophisticates personalize materials when
using words like modest or sympathetic to describe finishing details on a
cabinet. “
Beyond the French scientific philosopher Gaston Bachelard’s
definition of the material world being categorized as either soft or hard in
Earth and the Reveries of Will, I believe the very notion of material is also
going through a change as our virtual technologies continue to develop.
Virtual technologies rely on our memories of soft or hard
physical materials in order for us to comprehend our increasingly virtualized
experiences, but go well beyond those initial interactions based on touch. During
moments of interaction within these immersive virtual worlds we are thinking
differently due to the virtual qualities of these virtual materials. Due to
which, as Nicholas G. Carr states in The Shallows: How the Internet Is Changing
the Way We Think, Read and Remember, there is a shift in our thinking because
our world is different than the one we previously only knew. Our world is no
longer strictly physical.
We coexist between both worlds now, almost seemingly and at
a moment’s thought. I’m on my bus commute and I am running a campaign on a MMORPG
at the same time. My back and shoulders are aching as I am creating massive and
immersive 3D cityscapes. Virtual technologies allow our minds and our bodies to
separate in very extreme ways, by simulating physical knowledge to the point of
near indifference.
In my art practice, this concerns me. I am curious to know
what is being lost in this transition from a purely physically constructed mind
to that of virtually produced one. What do people think of traditional building
materials today? Do people have the same knowledge of physical materials as
they used to? To what extent do they know how the world used to work? My
biggest concern is what type of people are we turning into due to this shift in
the qualities of material and material knowledge.
In the past if we did not understand how something worked or
more specifically if we could not comprehend how something wasn’t working, we
created myths and mythological creatures to explain the incongruities. We
conjured mythological creatures as manifestations of our own ignorance. They
were scapegoats, things to point at and blame for our misinformed minds.
Are we creatures of destruction now? If we are growing more
reliable on a virtualized reasoning of things and processes, are we the goblins
of our once handcrafted world? By allowing for more virtualized experiences to
be part of our lives, are we consequently also allowing for the deconstruction
of our physical material knowledge?
In my ceramic-based art practice, I am attempting to show
this loss of material knowledge as well as suggest that we are changing. My
work attempts to capture a moment of my struggle to comprehend a change in
material consciousness. They are often violent or somber moments of frustration
and acquiescence. Some works have haunting and ominous presences. Some are mere
wardens or barriers, structures suggesting that we have reached a limit in our
physical comprehension. What gives me hope in my practice is the process, the
labor behind the end product. The act of making keeps me engaged; it is a
rebellious act against purely virtual reasoning and thinking. It allows for
mistakes and irregularities to be part of the piece, which I value as being
more human. I'm not striving for perfection, but instead, an honest record of
my interaction with clay and glaze and charcoal and paper.
