Soul Sister

Something's been up with the Blogger software for the last 24 hours. The only way you can post an image is if you remove all of the formatting and then pray that it lands somewhere within your post... The image on the left is a sculpture by Lenore Tawney. It's called "Bird Boy". I mentioned a few posts back that I was trying to compose something about her, because her work is so wide-ranging in terms of the materials she uses and because her compositions possess the ability to evoke incredibly powerful and yet diverse feelings.

The piece to the right is called "In Utero", and it was part of a travelling retrospective which came to Chicago shortly after I did. Suspended high above my head, the silky pale pink cocoon glistened and changed color in the shifting light. Wow. I've read articles about kids who've viewed the piece as part of their first gallery experience. How exactly does that chair stay up there? They're always mesmerized. This is a great example of a piece that's wonderfully accessible on so many different levels. We should all be so lucky in our work.

Tawney was born in Lorain, Ohio back in 1907 and studied at the Art Institute of Chicago in the 20's. For many years, beginning in the 50's she has worked in the realm of fiber arts, but in 1964 she also began constructing collages and assemblages out of found materials, like Mr. Bird here. Within these works, she incorporates calligraphy with objects found in nature. Speaking of her technique and materials, she notes "When I'm working, whatever I want is always within reach." Often what is in reach is a fragile egg shell, a pebble, a pressed flower petal, a page from a rare manuscript or an animal bone. In contrast to her monumental weavings, these small works reveal an intensely personal and symbolic world, creating imagery that has been compared by many to the work of Joseph Cornell.

Until I saw Tawney's pieces, I felt that Cornell was the only artist I could truly recognize as a kindred spirit, speaking to me as he did through his boxes composed of stars, shells, exploded watch workings and all of the other cast off treasures he collected and catalogued in his garage. For me, finding Lenore Tawney was the equivalent of finding a sister or aunt that your family never mentioned, but the existence of whom you had sensed from time to time and very much hoped to discover one day. I would love to fill this post with a multitude of examples of her work, but with the current state of the site, I'm glad I can at least get a couple to "stick".