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Transformation of the Mundane:
2007: Paul Stoelting • New Work
Walker's Point Center of the Arts
911 W. National Avenue, 414-672-2787
December 9, 2006 - January 13, 2007
Born in Kiel, Wisconsin, whose motto in "the little city that does
big things," Paul Stoelting is a recent graduate of the
Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, where he received his
B.F.A.
Upon entering the back exhibition space at the Walker's Point
Center for the Arts, I found it difficult to stop turning around. It
was as if I'd entered a museum strutting a minimalist
retrospective. No, more like an Op-Art flashback. No, more
like a corner of an administrative office space, with children's
art neatly hung on cork bulletin board with alligator clips. My
gut instincts seemed at odds, but one's first visual perception
of any situation does result in useful, honest information.
So, I spent more time turning around, trying to get a panoramic
view. Trying to make sense of the seemingly disjointed parts
that my initial scans offered, I started to list in my head, exactly
what I saw.
There were two sizable shiny pieces installed directly on the
east and south walls, one constructed of silver tape, one of
copper; a digital photography of a dated stereo receiver, a roll
of duct tape standing on end, showing some of its length and
a dispenser with a healthy roll of scotch tape, staged as if
these inanimate objects were a three piece high school band
about to perform in the auditorium; a drawing that looked like a
pixilated photograph of space, with nine notary seals down its
center, each partially obscured by black marker, recalling the
moons lunar cycle; two cork bulletin boards, one on the west
wall which housed four works on paper, the second on the
north wall which held six; in the corner, on the west wall was is
a small graphite drawing of a face whose frame is plumb with
north wall; beginning on the north wall and completely covering
its surface, continuing onto the west wall where it sloped to the
floor board, at a near 45-degree angle, is a drawing which has
been xeroxed and reborn as wallpaper.
Things started to come together after taking stock of all the
materials that Stoelting used to transform a semi-industrial
room, with white walls, gray floors.
Upon closer scrutiny of the black and white wallpaper
identified as Untitled, I discovered an intricate motif including
combined shapes resembling discarded cookie dough edges,
interlaid with constellations, which include simplified
geographic boarders, the 50 states. It began to become
apparent that if one were going to begin to understand
Stoelting's artistic mission, they would have to spend the time
to take note of every detail.
Partly eavesdropping, I heard Stoelting, say that most of his art
supplies are purchased from hardware stores, office supply
stores and America Science & Surplus. When I told him I
could relate to his shopping preferences, but had never been
to the latter, he said I shouldn't bother going there to look for
silver duct tape. He had bought them out.
Tom Friedman, who gets his materials from drugstores, candy
stores, the human body and the supermarket, sidestepping art
supply stores for the retail of everyday, came to mind. Like
Friedman, most of Stoelting's work is untitled, emphasizing the
materials used, instead of relying on words to push the viewer
in a certain direction. When Stoelting, gives titles more often
than not, they are simply the materials that were used to make
them.
In Ultra Fine Points many fine lines made by Sharpie markers
(which come in more colors than one would think) come
together in hard edge yet organic shapes, and read as highly
colored architectural plans.
Some works on paper, such as January 1, 2007, are
comprised of medium-short lines made by again by Sharpie
markers, mostly black this time - each line visible or
indiscernible - depending on how the light hits them. The
artist's decision to include the year 2007 in the title of this
show, and even claiming that one of the pieces was created in
this coming year (Phase), seems to nudge the viewer's mind
to an unknown, hence unsettling future.
Materials that are usually associated with the mundane of the
everyday are transformed through Stoelting's arrangement,
and become his subject matter.
One piece in particular clarified this concept for me and I kept
finding myself standing before the largest component of
Surface Features. It was pieced together from all those rolls of
silver duct tape, and is comprised of four circular shapes
placed asymmetrically and directly on the east gallery wall.
Long pieces of the silver duct tape were sliced down to
triangles of necessary angles to fit together, luring one's eyes
always back to the center of each of the four components. Due
to the reflective nature of the material used, as you move from
side to side, zoom in, walk further away, the information
bouncing through your eyes to your curious brain, is constantly
rearranging itself. Although extremely simple in concept and
execution, the viewer is asked repeatedly by the materials
(tape, light), to start over, from the beginning. I found this
extremely rewarding.
Having experienced Jay DeFeo's The Rose shortly after the
Whitney Museum of American Art acquired it; Stoelting's
Surface Features elicited a similar visceral response. Like his
shifting, mirror-like duct tape, DeFeo added layer after layer of
white oil enamel and mica, until, there was a point where the
paint itself took over. Having worked on this piece for roughly
eight years, weighing several tons upon completion, The Rose
had to be cut out of her apartment and hosted down by piano
movers.
Walking down National Avenue to the bus, I was left with the
overall sense of this artist's investigation of time spent with
mundane tools. An obsessive need to hunch over an ordinary
white sheet of paper, like a monk, lifting and lowering the point
of his mark-making tool, until the story of that specific activity's
duration is told - however long that took. What does it means
to hand over the majority of one's daily life to actions that don't
offer up their immediate purpose or promise a specific reward?
- Zoë Darling
Comments? Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
2007: Paul Stoelting • New Work
Walker's Point Center of the Arts
911 W. National Avenue, 414-672-2787
December 9, 2006 - January 13, 2007
Born in Kiel, Wisconsin, whose motto in "the little city that does
big things," Paul Stoelting is a recent graduate of the
Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, where he received his
B.F.A.
Upon entering the back exhibition space at the Walker's Point
Center for the Arts, I found it difficult to stop turning around. It
was as if I'd entered a museum strutting a minimalist
retrospective. No, more like an Op-Art flashback. No, more
like a corner of an administrative office space, with children's
art neatly hung on cork bulletin board with alligator clips. My
gut instincts seemed at odds, but one's first visual perception
of any situation does result in useful, honest information.
So, I spent more time turning around, trying to get a panoramic
view. Trying to make sense of the seemingly disjointed parts
that my initial scans offered, I started to list in my head, exactly
what I saw.
There were two sizable shiny pieces installed directly on the
east and south walls, one constructed of silver tape, one of
copper; a digital photography of a dated stereo receiver, a roll
of duct tape standing on end, showing some of its length and
a dispenser with a healthy roll of scotch tape, staged as if
these inanimate objects were a three piece high school band
about to perform in the auditorium; a drawing that looked like a
pixilated photograph of space, with nine notary seals down its
center, each partially obscured by black marker, recalling the
moons lunar cycle; two cork bulletin boards, one on the west
wall which housed four works on paper, the second on the
north wall which held six; in the corner, on the west wall was is
a small graphite drawing of a face whose frame is plumb with
north wall; beginning on the north wall and completely covering
its surface, continuing onto the west wall where it sloped to the
floor board, at a near 45-degree angle, is a drawing which has
been xeroxed and reborn as wallpaper.
Things started to come together after taking stock of all the
materials that Stoelting used to transform a semi-industrial
room, with white walls, gray floors.
Upon closer scrutiny of the black and white wallpaper
identified as Untitled, I discovered an intricate motif including
combined shapes resembling discarded cookie dough edges,
interlaid with constellations, which include simplified
geographic boarders, the 50 states. It began to become
apparent that if one were going to begin to understand
Stoelting's artistic mission, they would have to spend the time
to take note of every detail.
Partly eavesdropping, I heard Stoelting, say that most of his art
supplies are purchased from hardware stores, office supply
stores and America Science & Surplus. When I told him I
could relate to his shopping preferences, but had never been
to the latter, he said I shouldn't bother going there to look for
silver duct tape. He had bought them out.
Tom Friedman, who gets his materials from drugstores, candy
stores, the human body and the supermarket, sidestepping art
supply stores for the retail of everyday, came to mind. Like
Friedman, most of Stoelting's work is untitled, emphasizing the
materials used, instead of relying on words to push the viewer
in a certain direction. When Stoelting, gives titles more often
than not, they are simply the materials that were used to make
them.
In Ultra Fine Points many fine lines made by Sharpie markers
(which come in more colors than one would think) come
together in hard edge yet organic shapes, and read as highly
colored architectural plans.
Some works on paper, such as January 1, 2007, are
comprised of medium-short lines made by again by Sharpie
markers, mostly black this time - each line visible or
indiscernible - depending on how the light hits them. The
artist's decision to include the year 2007 in the title of this
show, and even claiming that one of the pieces was created in
this coming year (Phase), seems to nudge the viewer's mind
to an unknown, hence unsettling future.
Materials that are usually associated with the mundane of the
everyday are transformed through Stoelting's arrangement,
and become his subject matter.
One piece in particular clarified this concept for me and I kept
finding myself standing before the largest component of
Surface Features. It was pieced together from all those rolls of
silver duct tape, and is comprised of four circular shapes
placed asymmetrically and directly on the east gallery wall.
Long pieces of the silver duct tape were sliced down to
triangles of necessary angles to fit together, luring one's eyes
always back to the center of each of the four components. Due
to the reflective nature of the material used, as you move from
side to side, zoom in, walk further away, the information
bouncing through your eyes to your curious brain, is constantly
rearranging itself. Although extremely simple in concept and
execution, the viewer is asked repeatedly by the materials
(tape, light), to start over, from the beginning. I found this
extremely rewarding.
Having experienced Jay DeFeo's The Rose shortly after the
Whitney Museum of American Art acquired it; Stoelting's
Surface Features elicited a similar visceral response. Like his
shifting, mirror-like duct tape, DeFeo added layer after layer of
white oil enamel and mica, until, there was a point where the
paint itself took over. Having worked on this piece for roughly
eight years, weighing several tons upon completion, The Rose
had to be cut out of her apartment and hosted down by piano
movers.
Walking down National Avenue to the bus, I was left with the
overall sense of this artist's investigation of time spent with
mundane tools. An obsessive need to hunch over an ordinary
white sheet of paper, like a monk, lifting and lowering the point
of his mark-making tool, until the story of that specific activity's
duration is told - however long that took. What does it means
to hand over the majority of one's daily life to actions that don't
offer up their immediate purpose or promise a specific reward?
- Zoë Darling
Comments? Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
| Installation view. |
| Paul Stoelting, Surface Features |
| Paul Stoelting, Surface Features, detail. |
| Paul Stoelting, Ultra Fine Points |