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COSAR HMT: MIKE ROGERS : ARCADIAN - ELYSIAN - UTOPIA - 13 June 2008 to 19 July 2008 Current Exhibition |
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MIKE ROGERS ARCADIAN - ELYSIAN - UTOPIA There may be no other city than Los Angeles where architects have as much freedom to mix up styles with such abandon until all sense of propriety disappears. This can be exhilarating or sickening. At its most unfettered state, it can take the form of vernacular structural wonders such as Simon Rodia�s Watts Towers or architectural extravagances like Philip Johnson�s Crystal Cathedral. But more commonly, it presents itself when homebuilders decide that Mediterranean, Tudor, and Neoclassical look just fine when put together into a blender and then poured over a frame. Having lived in Los Angeles for the past 20 years, I put this notion to use about 10 years ago, when I started making a series of wood sculptures based on architectural molding and other decorative elements. I couldn�t make sense of the soothing effect that these features seemed to have on people, and I wanted to see if I could make them discomforting. My sculptures already looked like they had been made by an untrained woodworker toiling away in a backyard shed, rather than a deft sculptor, and the effect was heightened by wood stains and shellacs, materials that haven�t had a place in contemporary art. The works were not wildly embraced by the few people who saw them, and only one piece has ever been shown. I then wanted to see what it would look like if a determined woodcarver had turned his house into an environment, so I started to make a series of black and white drawings of domestic interiors and exteriors. The walls in these scenes were covered in intricate carvings and patterns to give the homeowner the feeling of grandeur. As it is often said in the U.S., a man�s home is his castle (if not his bunker). After executing many of these drawings, I realized that I could only be satisfied by creating actual environments, so I started building elaborate wood structures in my modest house. I completed work in the living room, dining room, and bathroom, when I had to sell the house and move temporarily to New York. Since then, I have not lived anywhere long enough to build structures again, but I have resumed the drawings, inspired by public spaces I have encountered or places where I have stayed. In the past year, I have employed color, often using a single color that I feel best represents the place. Sometimes these places, like the courtroom, the hospital, and the theme park, have a built-in drama that I feel is unleashed in the drawings, and sometimes the spaces are universally bland, but may have psychological tension that needs to surface. There is a line here that you don�t want to cross. On one side is the real world, which is just strange enough to be interesting and tolerable. On the other side is an extreme world overloaded with sensory stimuli that would be difficult to stomach, whether filled with giddy delight or oppressive solemnity. Now that I have taken the project full circle with the color drawings, I have returned to a molding sculpture with a new horizontal work in three sections. Called Out, Up, and Over, it operates like an entranceway or ceremonial gate. Like the earlier sculptures, it may have a celebratory function, but there�s also something pathetic about it, like a gymnast who attempts a complicated dismount and then lands flat on his back. Integral to my practice are the films and videos that I have made over many years. They usually are made to examine social situations or behavior and they often take the form of documentaries or involve performance. Duration varies. One film called Dive, lasts just a few seconds and takes place at a public swimming pool, where an overweight but once athletic man tries to impress swimmers with his flips. Another film, Cross Country, documents an entire road trip from New York to Los Angeles as recorded by a camera mounted on a car�s dashboard. The films and videos have a homemade quality to them, as if they too could have been produced by the woodworker in the shed. |
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