Post-critique Project #2 (Becky)

And here comes a long slew of things that I should've had posted on this blog awhiiiilllee ago (my bad):

The critique of my second project was, overall, very positive.  Going into the critique, I had several questions for my peers, some about formal elements of the display as well as about content.  For me, one of the most intriguing aspects of the process for this project was the physical collecting “expedition” I went on to the Iowa City Costco. I purposefully went to the store without a membership card to see what my experience would be as a true outsider to this constructed exclusive community/society.  In particular, I was interested in bringing back physical specimens from my expedition and displaying them as a collection in the style of an 18^th century “Cabinet of Curiosity.”

Based on the comments from my peers, I was successful in this formal, visual venture; the displayed items (both food and the containers/utensils I was given) evoked curiosity and wonder, subverting their commonplace, positive context as tasty food samples and changing them into odd subjects of disgusted fascination. One of the formal questions I had for my peers concerned the inclusion of a red, COSTCO logo vinyl cut-out on the top of the display.  I was concerned about the plastic, red vinyl sticking out in contrast too much with the antiquated feel of the bottles and shelf itself.  Although some thought that I could possibly get away with removing the logo itself, most agreed that it was perfect as is, and that it was just the right amount of commerciality and reference to Costco for the assignment.

One of the possibly more critical comments about the piece, visually, came from the fact that some of the jars overhang the edge of the shelf slightly.  This added a precarity/fragility feeling to the piece, possibly opposing my desire as the creator for the viewer to come close and inspect the items in the jars and bottles.   Since they were so precarious, there was concern about getting too close and upsetting the balance, which goes in direct opposition to the viewer wanting to inspect the items on the shelf.  The slight mismatch of the bottle size to the shelf was not intentional on my part as the artist – the shelf was a piece that I simply fixed up because it was on-hand and faster to fix up rather than build a new cabinet or shelf.  Although, in the end, I think I enjoy the tension that this adds to the piece, and appreciate the protection that it provides for the piece. Because of this tension, it is unlikely for someone to mess with the arrangement of the bottles (which is very particular and purposeful) or to slip one into their pocket as a souvenir.

Besides the formal elements, we discussed the possibility of adding a written component with the piece, journaling the “expedition-adventure” I had taken to Costco, in a faux, 17^th century journalistic manner.  Such manuals and illustrations of collections were common.  In the end, it was determined that unless integrated in a clever way, the piece was visually strong on it’s own.  And besides, such collection catalogues were never really viewed with the collections themselves, anyway.