It is a glimpse of something that seems to be the most important thing. It is something that is up and just to the right of my vision, and when I turn in that direction, it seems to move and keep pace with my turning. Then another set of circumstances cloud it and it is gone. In 1995, Mike Rathbun built a boat and, with virtual no sailing or navigation experience, crossed lake michigan on a dark april night. The experience was pivotal for the artist, who was finishing graduate school and wrestling with issues of voice and authenticity. Most of my work looked like I was sitting in my studio making work, Rathbun recalls. It looked a lot like Art, but it seemed ridiculous because it had no content.
Rathbuns colossal sculptures are typically short lived, created for specific installations and dismantled when the shows are finished. He says the episodic nature of showing complements the idea of the trip. They become like a legend, which, to me, is completely legitimate. I think hyperbole is the only way you can get somebody to actually experience what you experienced. Learn more about this sculpture.
|
||||||||||||||