Shifting Scales & the City: An Interview with Jane South
Artist
Jane South discusses how her large-scale, wall-mounted constructions
explore the "phenomenological experience of architecture."
Interview by Alexandra Tursi / Photos copyright
Jane South
Posted: February 15, 2008
Jane South's creative impulse comes
from a seemingly unlikely source: bike rides around New York City.
The shifting perspective that results from moving toward and away
from structural objects inspires her exploration of the human relationship
with architecture.
As her media, South chooses materials fundamental to art and to
architecture--paper, balsa wood, acrylic and ink. With these basic
elements, she creates three-dimensional sculptures that reference
the industrial forms she is exposed to almost every day. (Incidentally,
her studio window looks out on the Brooklyn Bridge.)
What does South seek to capture in her whimsical, almost cartoonish
constructions? With dozens of individual elements, folds, and marks,
the meticulously constructed works are both sturdy and flimsy, modern
yet archaic, encapsulating what South calls "the fluidity of
our architectural experience."
What are you currently working on?
Several things--I have a show opening in Houston at the end of
February, so I am finishing up some large pieces for that. I'm also
working on an edition project, which is a collaboration with poet
Miles Champion for an annual arts and culture magazine called The
Sienese Shredder, and I am developing a large-scale piece,
which will be installed somewhere in DUMBO in 2009.
From where do you gather creative inspiration?
Most of my work draws on the experience of riding my bicycle around
the city. When I first moved to Red Hook, Brooklyn, I was living
amongst the remnants of 19th-century industrial architecture--wharves,
cranes and windowless warehouses--and the burgeoning technological
infrastructures of the twenty-first--giant satellite dishes, cable
terminals...things that I don't know the names of...these structures
were right on the doorstep so I encountered them in all their structural
mass and enormity, but by the time I was cycling over the Brooklyn
Bridge, they appeared on the horizon as tiny and delicate linear
structures. It is this constant shifting of perspective and scale
that constitutes our actual phenomenological experience of architecture
and the city and that I aim to get across, the moving through and
around structures, the fluidity of our architectural experience.
Your medium of choice is paper. What drives your interest
in using this material?
I use ink and paper for my work because I see it as being fundamental
to art-making and like to play with the idea that I'm using something
that has been used throughout art history as a starting point as
my final one. Also it's the idea of contrariness, making large-scale,
three-dimensional works out of a material that is flat and referencing
industrial forms in a material that is delicate and not at all urban.
Of course there is also the allusion to the vocabulary that architects
use when they describe three-dimensional forms in two dimensions--for
which paper is the vehicle.
Curator Sarina Basta of SculptureCenter said, "There
is definitely a trend toward paper right now, and it's partly a
reaction against the higher tech--against meta, multimedia installations.
It's a kind of art povera thing." What is your reaction to
her statement?
Sort of agree--I like the directness of the material in that I
can make all my work myself and for me it gets to the essence of
an idea that interests me greatly about art--the question of the
"moment of transformation": at what point do you take
what exists in the world in one state and affect it so that it transcends
this state and becomes something that can be called art? I feel
that to strip down my vocabulary as an artist as pertains to material
and to work directly with this material with no complicated/expensive
machinery enables me to pay attention to this question and gives
the viewer access to it.
What did you do before becoming a full-time artist?
Many, many different jobs from the usual waitressing and bartending
to mixing concrete on construction sites, drawing architectural
renderings and designing sets for the theater.
You grew up in Manchester, England and currently live in
New York. How has living in these cities informed your work?
Very much. In addition to answers to question one, I would say
that I am also influenced by the way I have seen my neighborhoods
evolve (for better and worse) over the past few years. New York
City in particular is de- and re-constructed so much that it exists
in a constant state of undress, exposing its often dilapidated and/or
shoddily/cheaply constructed layers--to me it's a reminder of the
illusory and temporary nature of our sense of place.
Your work calls to mind machines and buildings. Why choose
to create such structures? What are you attempting to convey to
the viewer?
I'm interested in the structure of things and so forms that are
integral to this structure interest me--for this reason, for example,
I am more drawn to the Manhattan than the Brooklyn Bridge--it's
all exposed, it is what it is with no disguise. Machinery, likewise,
has the form it has because of how it needs to operate--it's no
nonsense stuff and there's a beauty in that.
The level of detail in the work is staggering. How important
do you think craftsmanship is to artistic creation?
I don't like the word craftsmanship as it implies a preciousness--for
me the making cannot be separated from the reason for making, the
conceptual underpinning and--as outlined in question four--my process
demands attention to detail and a certain understanding of my chosen
material in order to communicate this. Different art demands different
skills, or no skills at all--it entirely depends on what one is
trying to say.
What can you say about your work that might not be evident
to the viewer?
Hopefully nothing!
What is the most interesting comment you have heard from
a viewer?
Someone once told me that they enjoyed the "noisy silence"
of the work.
If you could have any piece of artwork in your personal
collection, what would it be and why?
Any painting by Giorgio Morandi--unaffected, honest, sublime.
Someone is writing a book about your role in the art world.
What would be the title and subtitle of the book?
I'll tell you when I'm 90.
___
Alexandra Tursi
edits the Visuals section of Identity Theory
and also contributes to our Social
Justice Blog. She went to Cornell and lives in Vermont and has
blonde hair and green eyes. You can email her at tursita@identitytheory.com.
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