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Thoughts & Opinions

Noguchi - Nov/Dec 2004

I would like to share with you an article that I wrote about Isamu Noguchi’s childhood, which was originally intended for a children’s book. As you may know, this year would have been his 100th birth year. I chose a period in Noguchi’s formative years where he received his early art experiences that led him to become an artist.

 

Isamu Noguchi is one of the most influential sculptors of the 20th century. He created many sculptures all over the world and traveled to numerous countries to find new ideas and inspirations.

 

Born in 1904 in Los Angeles to an American mother and a Japanese father, he and his mother moved to Japan when he was 2 years old. They lived in a seaside town called Chigasaki. It was in this town that his love for art began. Isamu’s father, Yonejiro, and mother, Leonie, were never married so he seldom saw his father during his 11 years in Japan. At the age of 13,  his mother sent him off to the United States to further his education. His mother wanted her son to become an artist.

 

In Japan, Isamu was a target of teasing and taunting by the local children. Isamu, afterall,  didn’t have black hair and looked very much like a foreigner. Because he was half Japanese and half American and looked so different from the other Japanese, he was called a freak. Everywhere he went, he became a victim of some sort of embarrassing moment. Because of this, Leonie briefly sent him to an international school. The result was equally troubling. He was harassed once again, this time it was because he didn’t look American enough. To prevent any more teasing, his mother eventually taught Isamu at home. His early childhood was sad and lonely.

 

When Isamu was 10 years old, Leonie decided to have a home built for them. She found a small triangular lot in between two large homes. No one wanted this land because it was small and not square. Who would build a house on this piece of land? Leonie hired Japanese carpenters to build the house. Since Isamu’s mother worked during the day as an English teacher, she asked Isamu to look over the construction and to make sure the carpenters were doing their job. Isamu gladly obliged.

 

Isamu was mesmerized by the Japanese carpenters. They had this ritual of pouring sake and salt on the grounds to bless the land and they wore very funny clothes. Instead of shoes, they wore “tabi,” a two-toed, laced-up cloth sandal. The pants were very wide around the hips but narrow and tight around the knees and ankles in order not to have any of their clothes caught while they worked. They created platforms around the house made out of skeletons of bamboo that are bound together by twine. These were used by the carpenters to stand on so that they could  work  on the higher parts of the house. The tools they used were also fascinating. They didn’t use electrical tools, and rarely used nails. When the carpenters had to join two pieces of wood, they would use a chisel and a hammer to carve out notches. Isamu spent his days, in awe, watching the house being built. He was amazed to watch the house slowly take shape. Soon he began to try to make things on his own too. His mother sensed his pleasure in being part of the house’s construction so she gave him the additional task of landscaping the house’s garden. He brought flowers and foliage from the mountains and he incorporated them into the garden. The carpenters enjoyed his dedication and were friendly to him. They even allowed him to use their tools to create things. Isamu was very focused on what he did and became so good with his hands that after the house was built his mother sent him off to be an apprentice with a traditional Japanese carpenter. There he learned how to respect and  take good care of the carpentry tools. He started his apprenticeship by learning how to sharpen the saws and chisels. By the time one season of training finished, he mastered all the techniques. The experience gave Isamu the greatest pleasure. No more teasing from the other children. It was such a rewarding experience to build something that never existed before. Creating art became his only sanctuary. His determination and focus was immense. He would spend hours perfecting his craft. This awareness in Japanese wood carpentry gave him the first dreams of becoming an artist. To be able to create something from nothing gave him so much pleasure and a sense of accomplishment.

 

As Isamu grew older and continued to work making art, he never forgot the lessons he learned as he watched his house being built. He carried his wood tools with him where ever he went. He also took good care of them. For Isamu, art was his way to express himself to other people and the world. Art has no boundaries, like a country or language or race. It was all equal. In his childhood, people would judge him even before he could have a chance to speak a word. That is why he pursued creating sculpture throughout his life until he died at the age of 84. He never had any children of his own, probably not wishing for his child to go through the same kind of loneliness he encountered.

 

Although Isamu had many challenges growing up, compared to other children, he had the great fortune to meet very exciting and inspiring people. They gravitated towards him. He looked at life from a global perspective. Many people were fascinated by him and wanted to learn from him or help him. Isamu utilized his disadvantages and turned them into his greatest strengths.

 

His art was about life in general. Not just one style or one thought. He sculpted monuments, created parks and gardens as well as furniture and light fixtures for homes,  and designed water fountains. He didn’t think of people as living in different countries, he thought of everyone living on the same planet earth. He wanted to sculpt the earth and he wanted to make art for everyone. Art was his communication tool. It was his universal language.

 

Throughout his life there was one beauty he never forgot. It was the breathtaking sight of the sun setting behind Japan’s beloved Mt. Fuji, which he saw from the second floor of the triangular house he lived in as a boy of 11. There he was free and could imagine many great things. That vision stayed with him all is life

Design Crimes: The Case of the Untrue Love Nov/Dec 2004

(The names have been changed to protect the cognizant.)


Hi – I’m Trixie Midnight, Ph.D., P.I. I and my faithful sidekick and occasional friend, Fluffy LaRouge, hire out to solve almost anything. Given that I’ve chipped my way around the block a few times many of our cases bring us into the murky underbelly of the carving world.


It was a morning, just like the others. We were working in my studio/office when the red phone started to shrill. Fluff was all over it faster than epoxy sets on a hot day. See, she’s got this thing for red. I guess I need to introduce the Fluff to you before I go on. At one time Fluffy, short for Fluffinia, was a world-renowned proctologist. That is, until her ill-fated accident. One evening during a moment of post-operative jocularity, the Fluff attempted to match my oral, cherry stem tying record – a big mistake. Moments after she threw a two-stemmer in her mouth, a lewd comment by a hot resident caused her to giggle. Unfortunately she had forgotten to remove the cherries. Aspirating stem, cherries and pits she was without oxygen for 20 minutes (this was the proctology unit, after all) causing irreversible brain damage. She’s the same sweet gal she always was, just a little more space in the attic, if you get my drift. There are moments of lucidity when old Fluff harks back to the pre-pit days, but they’re few and far. At one time called Red because of her hair and surname, post-choke she has taken it to be her assigned color. Hair, red; car, red; watch, red; phone – you get it.


Getting back to the case, on the phone was the frantic owner of a well-known Seattle gallery. Word was out – Trixie Mid could crack the mystery of why her big-name sculptor wasn’t selling. We were down there faster than soapstone scratches. Swanky, that’s the word for it. Dark, uncomfortable and swanky. A perfect gallery. A perfect place for money to change hands and design crimes to fester.


I brushed past the Giacometti-style owner as the Fluff handed her my business card. (It needs work, but she was real proud of it, having designed it herself. She had a little trouble pulling up the word “Investigator”, but since she’s always the lady…)

 

I was slightly disoriented wandering around in the opulent ambience, stumbling from tasteful darkness to blinding, misplaced spotlights, when I realized this case was going to be about as easy to crack as a piece of basalt using a tongue depressor. The artist was well known, the art was big, hard and glossy, the way Seattle likes it. Sensual with lots of curves, thinking optional. Besides the fact they were stone and not glass, why weren’t they selling?


I looked over at the Fluff and as usual she was staring at the biggest sculpture there. She had what I call her high-gloss gaze going, but instead of following the lines of the carving she was riveted to one spot. This wasn’t right – a person’s eyes, even the Fluff’s, should want to examine the whole piece. Go with the flow. I took my peepers over and gave it the old once over myself, and there it was. Bad curves. They weren’t true. They were full of subtle bumps and jags, but not intentionally placed. The design was supposed to move and flow, but the bumps in the curves held your attention like a Mel Gibson wink.


I told the Giacometti queen to “get the artist to clean up those curves and remove the unintentional bumps. There’s no room for laziness in sculpture. A curve should be as true as your first love. Many a good shape is ruined by bad curves. Make those babies flow like the Nile and ka-ching ka-ching.”


I headed back to the studio, the Fluff on my heels like granite dust – another design crime…solved.


Trixie Midnight Ph.D., Private (insert a common nickname for Richard)

“As multi-faceted as a marquise-cut cubic zirconium.”

206-555-5555

No Design Crime Too Small

Designing Your Sculpture Studio: Part 2 Sept/Oct 2004

Editor: Hey gang! Hang onto your socks! here’s another glimpse into Bill’s studio designing mind. Have you bought that chop saw or called your contractor yet?

 

Artificial Light

For those of us who must work at night, a combination of halogen lights and “full spectrum” lights might be the best compromise to mimic the appearance of sunlight. Cheap fluorescent lights die in the cold, Jeff Brash tells me, so if you are using fluorescents but your studio isn’t heated, go for the more expensive lights. (Note, however, that many sculptors hate the light effects from normal fluorescent lights.)  Equip your studio with directional lights so you can create shadows when necessary, and so you can uplight and downlight the stone to check for imperfections during final sanding. In this way, you will note details that were lost in overhead lighting. Tom Small suggests using clamp on lights with a ladder. The different step heights allow a lot of options. Suz Gentiluomo suggests inexpensive portable halogen lights - she can direct the light where she likes, and they are warm to work under. She stresses the importance of having overhead lights installed directly over your work.

 

Stacy Shure (out of Art City Studios) says that when tackling a direct carve, and one is lost in the stone, sometimes changing the light angle can bring angles and shapes to the stone that weren’t seen before. In a letter to the learningstone.net site, Stacy stated that “I learned at a lecture at Camp Brotherhood…that how you light your sculpture can provide striking differences in the design.” She recommended getting a few good portable halogen lights for this purpose. But one needs to observe the effect of whatever light you use on the colors of your stone. Some lights give false colors.

 

Tom Small adds that he sometimes uses artificial light at night at low angles to identify tool chattering and micro-planing. However, he says, if he spends enough time around the stone in natural light at all times of day (especially late afternoon and early evening) he can spot most flaws.

 

Floors

Concrete slabs are traditional and convenient (they allow the area to be washed down, with the water going out through a drain you’ve had the foresight to install). Jeff Brash recommends a floor gently slanting to one side to drain. Tom Small, on the other hand, can’t imagine water polishing indoors and would not be comfortable on a sloped floor, even with only a 1% pitch. But you’ll also need a dead-level area (see below). Your slab should be 6” or so above ground level. Get the concrete with reinforcing fibers mixed in, Suz Gentiluomo suggests. It is not much more money, she says, and the strength and crack resistance increase significantly. She also recommends reinforcing the concrete with rebar. It is cheap and tying it up is easy. To keep water from wicking up from under the pad, put plastic sheeting underneath it.

 

Concrete floors are not universally recommended. In Clive Murray-White’s letter to the learningstone.net site on shop design, he noted that he had “purposely avoided having a concrete floor, as it is very uncomfortable if you are working every day, and next to useless if you need to move wheeled objects around on it as you need to sweep up every stone chip every time you want to move anything.” Instead of wheeling objects around on a flat floor, he uses an overhead built-in gantry crane. (See below.) He lets the stone chips build up in his studio.

 

John VanCamp, another frequent learningstone.net contributor, agrees. John has combined the best of both worlds. His shop area is built like a clerestory pole barn: the main bay is 18’ x 24’ with an 18 foot rafter height; each side has a 10’ x 24’ shed bay with 12 foot clearance. One of the side bays has been half-enclosed to form a tool room. He has a concrete slab in the main bay. The other side bay is a stone debris floor that keeps getting higher as the slab area is swept off into it. John prefers standing all day on the rock chips rather than concrete.

 

Tom Small, who works primarily under the forest canopy, enjoys the feel of the forest soil underfoot, but allows as how he’ll put in a concrete slab one of these days.

 

Whatever kind of floor you add, Alexandra Morosco points out that it is important to have one area that is always dead level, so that when you are working, pinning, looking, or cutting a flat base, you are working against a true 90 degrees. If your floor isn’t dead level, then you’ll need to use some other method, such as a leveling plate, to ensure your working surface is true.

 

Walls

Height is very important, for several reasons. There are the obvious ones: you need to ensure your ceiling is high enough to allow you to work on your sculpture when it is on your work stand. And if you plan to install an overhead trolley or crane, you’ll want at least ten feet below the I-beam. But wall height is also important for reasons I wouldn’t have guessed: as Alexandra Morosco points out, the negative space around a piece is as important visually as the physical piece itself. So you’ll need enough clear negative space – uncluttered by shelves -- for pieces of the size you plan to sculpt.

 

So don’t build cabinets or shelves along every inch of your walls (shelves will get covered with stone dust anyway). You’ll need an empty wall space where you can look at your work, photograph it – even draw on the wall, or on a piece of sacrificial wallboard mounted on a plywood sheet.

 

Also remember that when you wash down your floors, your walls will get wet also. Jeff Brash recommends walls that are white (for light) and waterproof, for wash down. I had been planning to use melamine sheets instead of drywall in my studio, since it can be washed. (Now I’m thinking of moving all the dirty work outside, a là Tom Small.)  And while we’re talking about walls, remember to add lots of electrical outlets. Place them not in the traditional base-board locations where they’ll get wet, but at waist level (or countertop), where they’ll be both safer and more convenient. They’ll also need to be GFI outlets. (Ed. Note: GFCI circuit breakers can protect all the outlets on a circuit.)

 

One ancillary benefit of building your studio on piers, for those of us who would like more tax deductions, is that if your studio is “permanent,” then you have to spread your deduction for its cost over many years, but my accountant tells me that if the studio is “movable,” then one can deduct the total cost for the studio in the first year! (That, of course, was my accountant’s advice to me: consult with your own accountant before taking this deduction.)

 

Doors

Design your doors extra-wide (I’ll be installing 42” doors) to ensure you can get your stone and equipment in and out, or better, install a garage or barn door.

 

Heating

In-floor radiant heating is wonderful if you can afford it. The components of in-floor radiant heating include ground insulation; piping laid in between concrete, or under a wood floor; a water heater; a small pump capable of handling hot water; room thermostats; and electrical wiring and gas lines. It has the reputation of presenting more in the way of up-front costs, but lower operating costs over the years, with the huge benefit (to heat lovers such as myself) of providing that wonderful feeling of heat coming up through your feet. Those who have it say you can set the room temperature considerably lower than with normal heating systems, because of the direct heat the flooring provides. If you are feeling particularly hedonistic, you can install it in a concrete pad outside, as some other sculptors have done.

 

In-floor radiant heating doesn’t provide “instant-on” heat, the floor has to warm up first, a process that can be lengthy. So it isn’t necessarily suitable for those who don’t know in advance when they’ll be carving. One solution would be to install the “in-floor” components when your pad is poured. Installing the in-concrete tubing is easy and inexpensive. That way you can get the rest of the components, and hook up the system, when your life becomes more predictable and you no longer need the “instant-on” heating that radiant flooring can’t provide. Another radiant-heating solution is to use under-floor electrical mats/grids. These systems also won’t provide instant heat.

 

Another radiant-heating option is to buy a wall or ceiling mounted radiant heater that runs off propane. Robin Putnam (another learningstone.net participant) heats a 24’x 36’ uninsulated metal shop with a 3.5 foot unit which puts out heat covering an area 21’ in diameter, at a cost of 1 gallon of propane every two hours. This would be a reasonable cost for a Sunday-afternoon carver, but a lot of money if you use your studio daily.

 

A simpler radiant-heat source may be your lighting system. Halogen lights throw off a lot of heat.

 

Wood (or propane) stoves are an obvious possibility for heating.  Electric heat (such as “King” heaters in the walls) is a quick and convenient option, but expensive to use. A cheaper alternative is a unit using electrically heated oil. It looks and works like an old fashioned radiator, but plugs into a wall socket. It’s cheap (under $100), safe in water, assuming the plug doesn’t get wet, and won’t cause fires.

 

And finally, the simple approach, recommended by Suz Gentiluomo and Tom Small:  clothing to suit the Himalayas. Here again, it’s a matter of personal choice. Suz thinks that heating a carving space is a waste of money.  Me, I’m a heat sink.  I won’t go out to carve unless I know I’ll be warm, even if by something as simple as a fire in a barbeque (in which case, beware your coat tails!).

 

The Clean Room

Or at least, the “not-so-dirty” room. While some sculptors try to do all of their “dirty” work outside, many others do it in their studios, driven inside by winter weather or neighbors objecting to noise and dust.

 

Ideally, inside dirty work would be done in space that has been partitioned off, in order to leave a clean place for planning, books, food, clothes, and displaying finished pieces. My fantasy clean room has a wood stove and a comfortable chair, with an end table on which to set my wine glass (or, since we’re talking fantasy here, snifter of cognac and cigar). One classy example of a “dirty” room is located on San Juan Island. The studio is divided into two areas by Plexiglas walls. The entry into the “dirty room” is though a vinyl strip door. This “dirty room” has an exhaust fan on one outside wall, and furnace filters built into the interior Plexiglas walls. The system sucks clean air from the clean room through the filters, and exhausts the dirty air outside. For this system to work, however, you have to be heating-bill-tolerant.