Desert Companion
 
Subscribe now
Current Issue
JULY 2014
Click the cover to read the complete digital edition
Features
Dealicious Meals

Departments
All things to all people
Community
Editor's Note
End Note
Notes and letters
Take 5
the guide
upcoming events
Take 5
July 8 and 22, 8p. Long-form improv in an intimate setting, so close to the Strip you can taste it! Come early to participate in improv games and...   
July 23, 5:30-9p. Children will enjoy face-painting, magic shows, games, balloon animals, arts and crafts, costumed characters and so much more!...   
Roadrunners: zippy, darty, a blur of motion! What if, artist Alisha Kerlin wondered after seeing a roadrunner doorstop at a swap meet, you turned...   
  0

Ferdinand

Floating in the darkness of an unlit warehouse, Volume Control, Mark Brandvik’s solo show at VAST Space Projects, is both accessible and rigorous. It wouldn’t hurt, for example, to bone up on your Bernini before you behold its wooden phone-booth-style installation piece, though it’s not strictly necessary; I didn’t, and I still enjoyed its interplay of light and shadow. But it got me wondering — as I do with so many shows for which I neglect to bone up on Bernini — how a viewer whose brain hasn’t been finely calibrated in art-stuff can engage with works of serious intent. So I asked Brandvik about my own unschooled reading of a piece in the show.

SCOTT: I’d like to ask you about a single piece in Volume Control — “Ferdinand,” the rusty, busted Porsche with the train set circling inside. When I saw it, my first thought was that it dealt with time: the short-term human notion of time, as represented by the junky and now obsolete Porsche, set against a longer, perhaps cosmic sense of time, as represented by the train whisking around its infinity loop. I also wondered if it had something to do with beauty or desire — the decrepit Porsche demonstrating the shelf-life of culturally constructed notions of beauty vs. the purity of the train’s more organic, elemental circle. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it was possibly a visual koan on a more spiritual theme: finding traces of “the infinite” (whatever that might mean to a viewer) in anything — and therefore everything — no matter how broken-down or cast-aside, the way Bob Dylan, in his Christian phase, sang that he could “see the master’s hand” in “every grain of sand.” Further, if you think of the car as a metaphor for us — car body = human body — it suggests that if such a thing is true for a rusty old Porsche, it might also be true for a rusty old viewer. I’m not an especially spiritual person, but it didn’t take me long to arrive at this reading of “Ferdinand.” (Even the title sort of prompts a human-centered response from the viewer.) Lastly, dialing it back a little, I wondered if, more broadly, you had created a piece on the idea that everything contains its opposite and were content to let people read into it what they would. (Which I clearly have done.)

So, what's my question? This: Without asking you explicitly “what it means,” do any of my interpretations register anywhere near what you were thinking as you created this piece? What I’m really getting at, I suppose, is the process by which a viewer with a dicey grip on art history and theory — guilty!, though I often pretend otherwise — can still think his/her way into a piece, and the pitfalls, pratfalls and satisfactions that can result. (It was certainly fun for me.)

Your thoughts? (Don’t be afraid to tell me I’m dead-stupid wrong, either. Having raised three sons, I’ve heard it before.)

MARK: I’ve been thinking quite a bit  about your interpretations and questions. You definitely touched on some ideas I was thinking about as “Ferdinand” came together.

My initial concern was about the overall installation. I already had the idea for the piece, but placement was a challenge. I wanted an element to beckon viewers across the space as they negotiated that large, dark volume. Lighting and sound were  key. I was thinking of subtly cinematic but elusive lighting. Also, assuming ambient noise was at a low level, the kinetic element of the piece would create a barely audible metronomic heartbeat that might draw viewers  through the space. (After the install, I couldn’t get “The Tell-Tale Heart” out of my head.) I thought of each piece in the show in a similar way — like planets in a galaxy, with magnetic pull and orbits of influence.

I was thinking of scale and scale-shift as the work was more closely encountered. The relatively small car in the vast space could be reimagined as a separate universe against the scale model. Horton Hears a Who, Powers of Ten-type of thing. The element of surprise was also in play. The train is a bit absurd. Maybe my early art-school fascination with dada and surrealism is resurfacing. I really liked your thoughts about spirituality and time relative to this idea. Finite and infinite. Temporal and eternal. Decay and life. Sort of like happening upon a dead animal, only to discover that it’s crawling with maggot life. (Thinking out loud here.) Perhaps those notions were somewhere in the deep recesses as the work was coming together.  

I think the piece, as well as all the work in the show, is also somehow attached to memory. Not even sure if it’s my own memory. Fleeting, elusive. I still feel a sense of detachment from the show. An out-of-body type feeling. Not sure what any of it really means. I went with my intuition on much of this. I just had to see a toy train moving around in a beat up Porsche.

SCOTT: Indeed, the dada whimsy of a train in a car is definitely reason enough to see “Ferdinand.” I wonder if non-art-trained people grasp that — that you can skip the kind of heavy-duty over-reading I did (time, spirituality, all that) and just enjoy a piece like “Ferdinand” visually, as a previously nonexisting object that does an unusual thing, without having to probe it for meaning.

Still, when someone like me does read a bunch of significance into a piece, stuff you may not have intended it to have, how do you react?

Another question: You talk about the piece, and the show, having to do in some elusive way with memory, though perhaps not your own. Now, that Porsche belongs to VAST owner Sam McMackin. She remembers zooming around LA in it, her dog hanging out the window — she told me you could still see his drool stains on the side if the space wasn’t so dark. So a lot of pleasant memories reside in that old heap. Do her specific memories add anything to the piece, in your eyes? Or is it more diffuse and nonspecific than that?

MARK: It’s always great to have an astute observer make connections the way you did. The same is true for a viewer who has a purely visual or visceral experience.

As for intent, I think all of the stuff you read into the piece is completely valid. I certainly wouldn’t dismiss it as heavy-duty over-reading. My intent and hope is for the work to resonate on many levels, and it’s exciting when it does so in ways that I might not have thought about.

The Porsche does belong to Sam McMackin,  but I can't speak to her history with the car. Her specific memories don’t add much to the work for me personally. An interesting footnote, perhaps. My history with that Porsche only goes back a few weeks. However, its use in the overall installation seemed to evoke a much deeper but diffuse history and sense of time, as we discussed earlier. Even though I could imagine a similar work staged with a different vehicle and context, it would be difficult to rise to the level of serendipity present in the development of “Ferdinand.” Perfect vehicle, perfect place, perfect time.

For more on Volume Control, go to vastspaceprojects.com.



Comments
























































































































 

Best Doctor
Play the desert companion video

DC Scene
Recent Posts
7/22/14  
Hey, you using that blood?
7/21/14  
What's in a name?
7/18/14  
NAACP invites Las Vegas to Mandalay Bay
{more posts...}


Archives
Archives

Newstand Locations
Pick up your Desert Companion today at one of these Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf or Jamba Juice locations.
Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf LAKE MEAD & TENAYA
7291 W Lake Mead
Directions


PALMS CASINO
4321 W Flamingo Rd
Directions


UNLV
4550 W Maryland Pkwy Suite A
Directions


CARNIVALE
3377 Las Vegas Blvd
The Venetian Food Court
Directions


THE LAKES
9091 W Sahara Ave
Directions


THE DISTRICT
2220 Village Walk Dr Suite 140
Directions


MIRACLE MILE
3663 Las Vegas Blvd S Suite 45
Directions


CANYON POINT
10834 W Charleston Blvd Suite 200
Directions


TOWN CENTER
3645 S Town Center Dr Suite 101
Directions


PATRICK
6115 S Rainbow Blvd Suite 101
Directions


PALAZZO
3265 Las Vegas Blvd, Suite 1600
Directions


TOWN SQUARE
6599 Las Vegas Blvd, South #P-8149
Directions


BRIDGE
3377 Las Vegas Blvd
The Venetian
Directions


BOULDER CITY
Boulder Dam Credit Union
530 Avenue G
Boulder City NV
Directions

Jumba Juice

PEBBLE
1500 N. Green Valley Pkwy Suite 240
Directions


SAHARA & EASTERN
2675 S. Eastern Ave Suite 400
Directions


MCCARRAN MARKETPLACE
5905 S Eastern Ave Suite 108
Directions
NORTH MESA PLAZA
1829 W. Craig Road Unit 3
Directions


CANNERY CORNER
2546 E. Craig Road Suite 135
Directions


WESTLAND FAIR
1121 S. Decatur Blvd
Directions



Also available at Clark County and Henderson libraries.
Emerald City Smoothie

ST GEORGE
2376 East Red Cliffs Drive #502
St. George, UT 84790
Directions


Desert Companion