Christopher Lynn and Professor Gary Barton, Visual Arts
Within the field of semiotics, methods of communication (languages) are separated into three distinct categories: signifier, signified, and sign. The signifier is a thing, like a ball. The signified is a definition or concept of the thing: a ball is a spherical object. When the signifier and signified are combined, the result is the sign. The French semiotician Roland Barthes in his essay, “Myth Today,” stated that “the signifier is empty, the sign is full, it is a meaning.” He goes on to equate the “sign” with the “word,” or in other words, the symbol which acts as proxy for the signifier and signified. An example of this would be a picture of a ball, or the word “ball” itself. When a series of signs are strung together or juxtaposed one with another to create a logical phrasing, this phrase becomes a sign encompassing all the others. This paper is a chain of signs, but in its entirety, it is labeled “(CON)TEXT.” If signs were to be aligned in a non-coherent manner (i.e. to non-signs mannerif be aalignedcoherent in were) they would be seen as separate from the whole, some take on new meanings, but a harmonious phrase is not born. They do not become a whole sign that embraces the parts.
This project can be seen in two ways. One is to view it alone and isolated, not as a product of my upbringing, surrounding social structures, art history, genres, counsel from my faculty mentor, and so forth. This would make the project a text. It excludes any notion of authorship or atmospheric context and concerns itself only with the signifier. On the other hand, if the suggestion of the author remained intact within the project and surrounding histories were taken into account, then it could be referred to as a work. “Work” implies the inclusion of outside action and involves the signified.
In the art world, the idea of including a biographical context of the author in which to read the accompanying art piece is unique to the modern era that began shortly before the turn of the century. Authorship wasn’t a defining characteristic in deciphering a text. Even now, it is only taken into consideration as an artist gains prominence and more material is available to make his biography a greater player in interpretation.
Art is truly in the concept and any physical manifestation which is viewed or heard, i.e. a concerto, a painting, an essay, a ballet, is simply a documentation of that original concept. How the concept is communicated from the author’s mind to the audience’s is key. At the point that the audience is introduced to the art piece, it ceases to be a work of the original author and instead becomes a text and can only be read as such. The concept is recreated within their minds, and they are the ones to reassemble it there. The original intent of the author is immaterial as it is most often unknown. The audience then becomes the author of the concept as they make connections between what they see, hear, and/or feel and what they have seen, heard, and felt. Only the biographical and social context that the audience carries with them is important at that point. The artist creates the text and the audience makes it their work.
My original idea called for the creation of large, freestanding cabinets housing cubes which could rotate in the cabinets. Every cube would have a different image on each side. The viewers could then spin the cubes to create differing combinations of images, or signs, to see how each cube could relate to the next. They would make the mental connections in their head to create a logical phrasing of the signs. The premise was to include the viewers in the creative process, make them more aware of the effects of context, and help them be more alert to the conceptual nature of art; that it only remains a text until they make it a work, their work.
To expand the idea and enlarge the possibilities of signs, I decided to create a grid of shelves in which the cubes would sit, and the viewer could physically pull them off the shelf, examine all sides of the cubes, and place them back on the shelf with the image they choose facing out. This would free up all six sides of the cubes for images rather than have two sides occupied with a pipe or stick which would allow the cubes to rotate. I also decided to diminish the overall size of the pieces to shelves varying between 8 1/8″ square and 12 3/8″ square. This would make the pieces less assuming and more personal for the audience. In the process of beginning to paint on and transfer photographs to the cubes, I noticed that visual combinations of three cubes or less read better. The more cubes that got involved, the more hectic the phrasing. So I opted for shelves of nine cubes with three on the top row, the middle, and bottom (shown above).
While choosing colors for the cubes, I wanted to remain true to the painting style and limited oil palette which I have chosen. I felt that this would help to unify the individual pictures despite the fact that some were representational and others were abstracted or just small color fields. I also opted for black and white photographs glazed with oil paints for similar reasons. The photos which I chose were heavy in meaning and lent themselves to multiple interpretations. I transferred the photographs to the faces of the cubes using a gelatin medium and exposing them in a normal darkroom procedure.
When the abstract paintings and representational photos met each other in the cabinets it was exciting to finally see the visual and conceptual results. The paintings seemed to modify the photos as adjectives would modify nouns. They furnished an atmosphere to a familiar object. And as a red faced cube replaced a blue, the entire context of the surrounding cubes would change. The police officer would appear menacing instead of mellow; the dog would appear dead instead of sleeping; the eye would wander to the warmer hued cubes first instead of the cooler ones. The possibilities are only limited by the individual viewer and the contextual bridges they build between the signs on the shelves.
