Nalina Moses

ARCHITECT, WRITER, CURATOR

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WAX FIGURESArtist Ren Ri’s beeswax sculptures sit at the intersection of biology and technology, nature and artifice, animal and apparatus.  For this series the Chinese artist constructed clear acrylic boxes, large enough to hold bowling balls, and …

WAX FIGURES

Artist Ren Ri’s beeswax sculptures sit at the intersection of biology and technology, nature and artifice, animal and apparatus.  For this series the Chinese artist constructed clear acrylic boxes, large enough to hold bowling balls, and filled them with swarms of bees.  Every so often, as the hives were growing, he rotated the boxes and repositioned the queens.  Afterwards he flushed the insects and honey from the cages, leaving the empty rippled, folded beeswax forms inside.  These look, from up close, like abandoned post-nuclear landscapes and, from across the room, look like the desicated organs of a prehistoric beast.

There’s a strange tension between the tidy hexagonal structure of the hives and their bulging, swollen contours.  The cells gives these works a pixellated look, as if they’ve been modeled with a computer program.  They don’t seem to recognize gravity, as the beeswax congeals equivalently to all interior faces of the cube.  And they don’t seem to recognize Cartesian geometry, their soft, tissue-like clumps evoking a shambolic, bodily logic.  Though they offer rich compositions, the wax formations don’t lend themselves to contemplation.  Stuffed within the antiseptic plastic boxes, they’re charged with physical potential, as if they’re about to come to life, to change, to grown.

Photo courtesy of Ren Ri and Pearl Lam Galleries.

March 08, 2017 by Nalina Moses
March 08, 2017 /Nalina Moses /Source
Ren Ri, ARTIST, SCULPTURE, BIOLOGY, TECHNOLOGY, beeswax, honeycomb
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ANALOG DAYS
The Nam Jun Paik retrospective at the Asia Society, Becoming Robot, is a bright blast of 80’s nostalgia.  The video and robotics technologies that were available to the artist then, when he completed his best known works, are now o…

ANALOG DAYS

The Nam Jun Paik retrospective at the Asia Society, Becoming Robot, is a bright blast of 80’s nostalgia.  The video and robotics technologies that were available to the artist then, when he completed his best known works, are now obsolete.  The CRT monitors he incorporated in so many installations and performances – his trademark – are deeper than they are wide, and even the smallest ones require remote adapters and transformers, and bundles of cables to tie them together.  The technologies are mechanical rather than digital, and imposing physically as well as conceptually.  There’s a wonderful photograph of Paik from 1990 in one of the galleries that shows him sprawled, ecstatically, on a studio floor, surrounded by a mess of televisions, cords and plugs.  These elements give his work, when seen today, a sweet low-fi, high-tech, Radio Shack kind of aesthetic.

Paik’s videos also have distinct 80’s stylings.  The resolution is grainy and the lighting is clouded.  Colors are acid-tinged, as if we’re watching through an infrared lamp.  Shots dissolve into one another slowly and are held for uncomfortably long stretches of time, as if they were edited by stoners.  These videos remind me of very early programming on MTV and Nightflight.  And they remind me of amateur Super 8 footage, with shots slipping in and out of focus, frames drifting unintentionally downwards, and everything hovering slightly off-center.

Despite these formal limits, Paik’s videos are jarring and often deeply funny.  One shows him dressed in a tuxedo playing a piano, while a naked cohort, Charlotte Moorman, sits on top of it and keeps time by tapping his head with her foot.  Another shows him crashing a five-foot high robot – a delicate jumble of metal angles and wire – with a white sports car on Madison Avenue.  Today just about every smartphone is equipped with software to record, edit and distribute high-quality video.  We’re inundated with clips, but rarely find ones that surprise or move us.  The technology has moved forward, but for what?

Robot K-456, 1964. Twenty-channel radio-controlled robot, aluminum profiles, wire, wood, electrical divide, foam material, and control-turn out. 72 x 40 x 28 in. (183 x 103 x 72 cm). Friedrich Christian Flick Collection im Hamburger Bahnof, PAIKN1792.01. Photo: Courtesy of Nam Jun Paik Estate.

September 27, 2014 by Nalina Moses
September 27, 2014 /Nalina Moses /Source
Nam Jun Paik, Asia Society, TECHNOLOGY, SCULPTURE, VIDEO, analog, digital
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