DAVID COHEN, Editor           
       November 2003  


STUDIO VISIT
The Matrix Man: Jon Isherwood in conversation with ERIC GELBER

Part Two

 

Jon Isherwood Passages, Origins and Consequences [materials and dimensions to follow]
Sculpture at Goodwood, Sussex, England. All images courtesy the artist

 

With the computer numerically controlled technology (CNC) do you feel as if you have total control over what happens with the rock?
Yes, absolutely, I feel like I'm finding a shape, finding something unique, something that is my own now through use of the computer. It has always been important to translate my feelings and thoughts into more specific shapes. It has always been an attempt to analyze cause and effect, to move to a place where I have more control. The computer facilitated the next move, this aspect of control, defining what I see.

What had happened while I worked in clay briefly in Canada was that I made impressions by throwing clay onto plaster casts of baskets and other wicker objects. They created these interesting textures and marks. When the clay was fired it further intensified these really incredible textures and surfaces. In the end, the shapes I was pushing the clay over were what I was really interested in. I had no idea how to make the types of shapes I wanted to work with at that point. Then I discovered the technology, that it would allow me to scan forms and provide me with an exact replication of the surface I was interested in; not an impression but a replication.

It was a revelation, a technological discovery that fitted my vision. It's the controlling factor. The precision that the computer brings to the process is just incredible. Every aspect of the process is represented by a digit. That amount of control fascinates me.. It is interesting that you can take forms that are so intuitive and gestural to begin with and have something so definitive at the end of the process. You can have looseness and control. And the interactive element is without restraint. At any point you can stop the programs, you can change them, you can rewrite them. You can program it to do absolutely everything (laughs). It's like the best assistant in the world.

Can you describe how you make a sculpture using the CNC technology?
I first produce a large group of plaster molded and carved forms. Successful forms are digitally scanned and transferred to the computer as three-dimensional files. The use and modification of tool path, scaling and morphing programs, allows for manipulation and intervention. This is an intervention that is monitored on the screen. I make printouts of the forms and paste up full size images to measure scale.

Simultaneously, I am selecting rock in consideration of the form. At this point it is very much a dialogue between the scale that the material projects out and my imposed requirements of color, veining composition and stone type. After this I go back to the computer and make the final decisions with regard to what the size and angle of the milling tool should be.

The selected block of stone is placed on the lathe or milling machine. First cuts are made with a diamond saw which is digitally fed information from the computer files as to where and where not to cut. The sculpture slowly starts to emerge. The process is interactive in that you can stop the machine, rewrite the program, and change the form.

When the milling is complete the blank or beginning of the sculpture is removed, and my hand work begins. Over a period of time I work the surfaces by cutting, carving, drilling and polishing them until the sculpture is complete. On some occasions the sculpture is placed back on the mill to carve openings using newly written programs. In essence the original plaster forms are from my hand, the stone blanks, which are produced by the CNC machine, act as new starting points for my hands and eyes to act on.

Your recent sculptures made using the CNC have a daunting amount of surface detail but are smaller in scale than the earlier work. They are less iconic than the large stone pieces. Are you working on a more intimate scale for a reason?
I think so. I think the scale of the new work has to do with the torso and with the head. I am thinking about how one creates the sensation of that ownership. One thinks about the head as a vessel, as this enclosure, something that contains all of our thoughts, questions, ideas, and so forth. I think of the torso in terms of its physical capacity as a breathing apparatus, as a digestive system, as the heart. I think about the compression that exists in these small internal spaces in the human body. I am trying to fit a lot into a compact and compressed space. I try to fill out the shape as much as I can, without making the overall form enormous.

You have stated that your experiences working with the visionary architect Frank Gehry made you interested in the concept of making a building or place without building rooms in it. Does this mean that you imagine yourself no longer making art objects, but creating environments? What are thinking of doing in the future?
What interests me in the next stage is to pass inside a sculpture, to move physically inside a sculpture. To move inside this (points to a recent sculpture made using the CNC). I want the external sensation to be replicated on the inside. In essence, that is the reason for the void.

In many pieces I suggest the internal world of the sculpture. I am thinking about making a sculpture that has the external sensation on the inside, so that there is a continuum. I want to make an object that is big enough to walk inside and feels seamless.

I have the opportunity to make a couple of very large pieces, and two or three people will be able to fit into them. It's a challenge, because I don't really want to make architecture, or a habitable space. It's primarily about space and atmospherics. I am not religious in any way but sacred places, cathedrals, the domes and interiors, have an incredible power, even though a lot of it is theater. The spaces are compressed and this sense of compression creates the drama. And again I see this, as all relating to the human body's potential to interpret primary sensations, the relationship between the forms and the human body..

Do you want to achieve a complete sense of 'otherness' with your work, to reaffirm a real or imaginary boundary between art and everyday life?
My ambition is that a sculpture could exist on the corner of the street and have as much significance as a mailbox (Laughs), or the bank or a restaurant.

You mean you want sculpture to be as necessary to our everyday existence as the mailbox?
Yes…I truly believe that people have the capacity to feel this way about sculpture, to recognize the significance of it themselves. But it is a two way street. It is an interactive thing.
The concept of 'all-roundness' was crucial to modern sculpture. Many of your freestanding stone sculptures seem to be about something else. They have mysterious interiors; suggestive openings which make viewers ponder their allusive centers.

The idea of the center is this asking of the viewer to involve their unconscious, to become interpretive. The interior is the mystery, the place where one is asked to take responsibility for what associations you get from the work. It's an attempt to not just deal with the body in terms of its external parameters, but to go beyond the descriptive nature of the form. My voids, the holes that I create are inlets. With Henry Moore you saw where you were going. I hope you don't quite see where you are going with the holes and openings I make. I am trying to slow you down in terms of your attention to atmosphere. My work also has to do with the sensuality and sexuality of experience. It's not a literal description. It's not about that. It's about how one goes beyond the visual. I want to create a seamless, pensive moment.

Is it important to you that your sculptures communicate certain numinous or transcendental values to the viewer?
The idea of shape and reference is hopefully continually turning, that one sees the vessel and then it starts to transform into a more architectonic form and then it moves back to the body. I hope that the work is in a constant state of transformation, that it goes through phases. I want the work to be continually morphing in the viewer's mind. As one exists in this world you go through these mutations. We move through our experiences and assess them.. We all own a body, but never really sense it.. Making sculpture is an attempt to grasp complex feelings and emotions without interacting with other people. It's not particularly complicated but it is not easy to do. I want people to feel a sense of reverence for the act of looking. Since the loss of power of religion, of the church, we have lost that everyday reverence for the artifact. The people who do collect my work are looking for that aspect of reverence. They talk to me about sitting with the work, holding it, touching it, remembering everyday to go to it, and so forth. And that's very rewarding. That's the most it can do. That is probably all it can do (Laughs).

Does the unconscious, if you believe in one, play an important role in your creative process? Do you feel like you are making archetypes or universal symbols?
I wonder about that. I think that there is something surprising that happens. Sometimes I'll make a sculpture or drawing and after the event I'll recognize it from somewhere else or finally a key word or sensation becomes a shape and it is suddenly so obvious that it could only be that. This would suggest some sort of unconscious awareness of forms. There is definitely some reference to the body in my work, but it is not the shapes we know the body to be, which suggests the unconscious..

You are currently building your own studio close to your home. Can you talk about this process?
I have always worked in old commercial spaces. The space we are in right now is an old paper mill that I purchased 12 years ago. I never thought that the space mattered that much as long as it was practical and could handle the workload. Tony Caro taught me that going to the studio was going to work and from that I assumed that I should not work at home. A studio has to have that edge to it for me. The new building is addressing ideas of what are the ideal working conditions. How do you create a space that fits the ambition and proportions of your working habits? One thing I do know is that I feel confident and located enough in my work that it is time to invest in a home for it. I just have to find the money!

Back to Part One
 

other studio visits

ERIC GELBER , Assistant Editor of artcritical, also writes for Brooklyn Rail, Sculpture Magazine, and other publications.