Some Effects of Small Scale
I was stimulated by Manifest Gallery's recent exhibition '5th Annual Magnitude 7' to reflect on some of the ways in which small scale affects the viewer's experience of the work. 'Magnitude 7' required artists to submit work under seven inches in size. I also include works from other shows in the area.
In Ryan Mandell's New Density Model 2, as in the case of most architectural models, we find ourselves imagining it as something massive. Here, though, the absurdity of the composition transforms it from practicality to inutility. We enjoy the quirky placement of what appears a golf course over the residences. The metal scaffolding seems practical in its reinforced design, as if it really could support the structures above; these playful pseudo-functional elements allow us to enjoy the illusion even more so. The work may be seen as an inversion of architecture (both literally and figuratively), or as a symbol for our social values. In the context of this essay, its interest lies in its capacity to provoke the viewer to imagine an object many times larger than the work before them.
An artist could succeed at this in other ways as well, such as by placing next to any sculpture a tiny human figure. The small figure would create a different sense of scale.
Chris Tinnen's pseudo instruments are fit to the scale of an average human hand, so in this sense their size is determined by external factors - the hand's proportions. If his work had been larger, though, certain qualities would have been lost. For the form of his work is actually very aggressive-sharp points, steel grips, etc. whereas the small size renders them less dangerous. The final result is a whimsical object - their sharpness reminding us of their danger (although Saw remains purely whimsical) but their scale makes them safer.
Larry Blackwood's 126 Days 'til Summer, 2004, is a small photo depicting an isolated swingset (click on the photo to visit his web site). One ofthe three swings is missing. The washed-out whiteness could make it bleak but instead it gives a tender feeling of childhood now distant, fading. Had this work been blown up to a larger size, the viewer would not be invited into the kind of inner space - the intimacy - that this work creates. It is as if we are looking through a portal into a distant past, and that past is no longer in reach. The small size gives it this distance and the difficulty of reconstructing such visions within us.
Scale also affects the artist's creative process; this may seem obvious but it is interesting to see it at work with different sizes in an exhibition. At the Contemporary Arts Center, artist Aya Uekawa's large paintings are, for me, clumsy compositions and reveal a poor painterly sense. A kisztch gem fountain sits in the middle of the display and feels out of place. A large unicorn dominates the back wall but is nestled awkwardly in the space; its interest lies in its social critique more than its aesthetic values.
But her four small works are her strength, entitled the Exoticist series. Her images depict four women wearing headdresses of living birds and plumes. She emulates traditional Japanese painters known for their fine details. The headdresses are meant to be a reflection on Edwardian women and their use of the exotic birds as a status symbol. The faces of the women, like many in her works, are a kind of cross-ethnic amalgamation. Their gaze is dreamy. The birds and plumage are meant to represent the imagination. With these works I see the portrait of the artist as creator - displaced (three of the figures are floating busts), dreamy, somewhat melancholic and fascinated by symbolism. They are decorative, with a care to harmonious, pretty background touches; in contrast to these, her larger works seem almost violent (her intention, for better or worse).
Sometimes small works are necessarily small due to the materials themselves. Debbie Brod, whose 'mini-zen' sculpture appeared in the recent 'Continuing Education Faculty Show' at the Art Academy (Matt Morris, in the feature article for this issue, discusses her large-scale public art), presented works composed of coral, glass, jaw bone, nut, wood and more. Her work Confrontation, 2007 is a sculptural collage that leaves her materials largely untouched. The craft rests in the arrangement and relationships of the parts; the smallness of the piece makes the apprehension of these relationships much more challenging. Paradoxically, some of the elements are reclaimed from works by architecture students at DAAP. As I gazed at it, I was drawn back and forth between the small 'world' that they created and my grappling with their meanings.
There are endless possibilities of the effects of small scale; here I have offered a sampling, hardly representative. A final point, relevant for this journal, is that much artwork is viewed on a computer screen. The screen image distorts the dimensions and hence the kind of viewing experience which I have described is hampered or lost. It is another example of the importance of visiting galleries during their shows, and why this journal finds its validity by concentrating on exhibitions in the area. It encourages direct vision, something mostly lost in international publications.
