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- <text id=92TT0792>
- <title>
- Apr. 13, 1992: The Faberge of Funk
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1992
- Apr. 13, 1992 Campus of the Future
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- ART, Page 73
- The Faberge of Funk
- </hdr><body>
- <p>The tiny, witty works of California ceramist Ken Price belie the
- notion that real sculpture ought to be big
- </p>
- <p>By Robert Hughes
- </p>
- <p> Anyone who still believes in rigid divisions of
- importance between craft and fine art--pottery and sculpture,
- for instance--could do worse than visit the show by the
- California ceramist Ken Price, now on view at the Walker Art
- Center in Minneapolis. Artists have been making sculpture out
- of baked clay since the dawn of time--mud was God's medium for
- fashioning Adam--and yet, in America, there lingers an
- irrational feeling that "real" sculpture ought to be made of
- steel, or bronze, or stone, or wood: anything but clay, in fact.
- </p>
- <p> Price's work, in its terse, witty and episodically lurid
- sharpness, argues otherwise, and has been doing so for nearly
- 30 years. To complicate matters, Price plays with traditional
- forms of useful ceramics such as the cup and the vase without
- producing a usable object: they become a sort of armature for
- flights of entirely nonutilitarian fantasy.
- </p>
- <p> The American preference for big art has worked against his
- reputation, because his pieces are tiny. None is more than 2 ft.
- high, and many of the best of them are to be measured in inches.
- You enter Price's imagination from the wrong end of the
- telescope. His objects don't declare themselves across the room
- at you. Like certain Joseph Cornell boxes, or like the tiny clay
- caricature heads by Daumier that so influenced Giacometti's
- ideas of scale they pull you close in with their bright and
- almost fetishistic visual promise until you have shrunk, as it
- were, to their size.
- </p>
- <p> Some have critters on them--a snail crawling round the
- base, or a worried-looking frog leaning backward; one piece,
- Blind Sea Turtle Cup, 1968, is borne on the back of a turtle
- laboriously crawling its way across a sandbox. Yet curiously
- enough, they look mysterious rather than cute. Victorian potters
- like Mintons produced a plethora of whimsical, curate's-joke
- animal majolica, laden with cows and sheep and bees and other
- homely creatures; the surface of earlier French Palissy ware was
- encrusted with reptiles and insects to the point where the plate
- became an unusable plaque.
- </p>
- <p> Price's work has nothing to do with such discursive
- archness. And it has even less to do with the Bernard Leach
- tradition of quiet good taste and honesty in materials that grew
- out of Chinese and Japanese ceramics. As Edward Lebow points out
- in his engaging catalog introduction to this show, Price, from
- his student days in Peter Voulkos' West Coast classes, "devoted
- much of his studio effort to clearing his throat and going
- ptooey on `creative craft' and `good design.'"
- </p>
- <p> Right from the start, Voulkos--the father figure of
- California pottery at the time and for decades thereafter--inspired Price to break the rules, and the most binding of these
- was the integrity of the glaze: all color on a ceramic object
- had to come either from the clay itself or from the glazes that,
- through firing, were bonded to it. But this was California, the
- territory of outlaw artificial color, metal flake, Duco gloss,
- candy stripes, epoxy bases. Price didn't go for the mass and
- roughness of Voulkos' work; he wanted a more concise style of
- object, perverse in its craftsmanship and highly mannered.
- </p>
- <p> Accordingly, by the early 1960s, Price, now 57, had
- started using auto enamels and industrial pigments along with
- the low-fired glazes on his work. These gave an extreme density
- of color and, unlike in traditional pottery, a relentlessly
- inorganic and sinister look to his "eggs," enameled clay shells
- with weird lobes like giblets or tongues merging from fissures
- in their surface--an "Invasion of the Body Snatchers
- aesthetic," as someone remarked at the time. Its payoff would
- come 20 years later, with pieces like Big Load, 1988, and Stamp
- of the Past, 1989, ceramic chunks like blotched meteorites, with
- sharply cut surfaces of an eye-straining chrome yellow in which
- a perfectly square black hole opens on the mysterious emptiness
- inside.
- </p>
- <p> A series of cups followed the eggs, through the 1960s and
- '70s. In a sense the cups were Price's bread-and-butter work--they were popular, and no California collector's knickknack
- shelf was complete without one--and yet they were consistently
- inventive and spry, displaying a constant buzz of fantasy and
- a growing mastery of color. Sometimes, as in Gaudi Cup, 1972,
- the intensity of the glazes seems to have literally broken down
- the form of the ceramic into tiny glowing shards. This sense of
- color as a veneer on a flat surface gets turned into a form of
- Cubism, rather as the Dutch Constructivist Gerrit Rietveld in
- the 1920s abstracted the shape of a chair into a penitential
- parody of itself. Not only Cubism gets its share of parody, but
- other styles as well--Frank Stella's paintings or, in a tiny
- architectural piece with a tower and a tilted ramp called De
- Chirico's Bathhouse, 1980, the theatrical piazzas of Italian
- "metaphysical painting."
- </p>
- <p> All these references would seem rather a heavy load for
- small clay objects to carry, but one of the virtues of Price's
- work is that it never seems pompous and only rarely trivial.
- Some of the time, it mocks itself. Certain Prices look like
- exquisitely glazed versions of stuff you would want to scrape
- off your boot. And what about Wart Cup, 1968, for a title? One
- can't claim too much for his cups, which is a relief in a
- culture that tends to claim far too much for its paintings, but
- the whole show in Minneapolis is infused with an educated sense
- of style that consorts finely with the craftsmanship and laconic
- wit. Price's sensibility does not so much come out of Pop as
- emerge, on its own terms, from the same ground, becoming both
- demotic and superrefined. As the Faberge of Funk, he has no
- rivals.
- </p>
-
- </body></article>
- </text>
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