Briton Alan Turner is back in Alaska after a 10-year absence. His installation, "Making Connections: Train Sets and Switches in Time," is a work in progress at the UAA Kimura Gallery. The show has evolved during January as he added or removed parts. The next and final stage will emerge Monday.
When I took a look earlier in the show, the space was dimly lit, the walls bare. Rusted parts of toy train track were scattered around the gray floor. In the center, a metal washtub was filled with cloth fibers -- the kind used for insulation. A tunnel was cut from the center of the tub as though the train would pass through.
No artist statement or explanation was posted. I called Turner to see if he wished to add anything verbally. He did not, explaining that he "didn't do artist statements anymore."
I have admired Turner's work for a long time, including his last Anchorage exhibition at Out North a decade ago. He did an outdoor piece for us at the Decker/Morris (then Stonington) Gallery in 1994 involving an ironing board. Turner said the Kimura show is his first solo exhibition in 10 years.
His work is sculptural and conceptual, an amalgamation of found objects, mixed media and finely crafted materials. There is a wonderful aesthetic to his work that may not be apparent to people inexperienced in viewing contemporary art. His is a sensibility born of experience in manipulating wood, metal and fiber to form his unique personal vision.
In the end, perhaps all art is inexplicable. Try verbalizing why you prefer one form of music to another or why you can listen to one melody ad infinitum while someone else hears it simply as cacophony. I'm not promoting "I know what I like" as an adequate response for anything. We can try harder than that. Yet, to some degree, all art is intimately and mysteriously manifested in one's own sensibilities.
I respect artists like Turner, who prefer to let their work speak for itself. The enigmatic quality of many contemporary works leads viewers to formulate their own responses and conclusions. It can be more challenging and more actively engaging. Though without some guidance, there is an inherent danger of misunderstanding the artist.
French art critic Roland Barthes wrote of the "death of the author." The writer, photographer or artist, Barthes believed, existed to produce the work and not to explain it to people when finished. It's too easy and "sloppy," he said, to merely interpret art in the context of the author's life; art is more layered and complex than that.
Some of the worst prose I have ever encountered has been in the form of the "artist's statement." Visual artists are not necessarily adept at explaining themselves or their work. The artist statement may be merely self-serving, aggrandizing or misleading. Artists may not see themselves in the social, political, social or cultural context they actually are a part of. It is the work of the critic to help ascertain that positioning.
Many of the icons of art history have resisted labels and categorization. A classic example is Louise Bourgeois, a heroic figure in the feminist movement, who denied any feminist intent. Although she pioneered in a number of art-isms, she steadfastly resisted being pigeonholed by others' associations. It's understandable, isn't it? Who wants to be labeled?
Gallery spaces around the globe are provided for artists to do their thing, and the Kimura Gallery is an example. Much has been written in recent years about the art space itself, and some artists have moved from gallery shows to site specific locations away from the cultural establishment. What is still fascinating is how artists like Turner utilize and transform a space for their own purpose.
With the "death of the author," we are left to our own means to determine content and quality. It's not always easy, but there is value in the process itself.
I was immediately drawn to the Turner installation; it's measured clutter, the nicely bent metal flanges, the selection of rusted track, the emphasis on switches and the type of fiber he collected. There's not much there. There's a lot there.
Without his explanation, we are left to interpret and understand Turner for ourselves. What is the metaphorical significance of trains, connections or switches? Why the measured alterations to the installation? Why the separations in the track? What is he saying? What does he mean? How does it look?
Don Decker is an Anchorage artist, teacher and writer.
By DON DECKER
Daily News correspondent