1.4 Narrative and the Impossibility of Objectivity
I analyse the narratives that entangle both the glasswork and the practice that created it, and that deliver meaning through relationship between visual form and word. In this, narratives create ground for the viewer’s romantic engagement with both the glasswork and the artist.
Words and the Glasswork/Object
To place the glasswork in context with a label is to set parameters for interpretation of meaning. The glasswork becomes concept, and that presupposes a direction towards outcomes. Setting parameters for the glasswork posits a perspective. We move beyond the work as a physical thing for the purpose of enclosing it in interpretation. We use language to form a scenario in order to determine meaning. The process of determining meaning begins once our attention brings us into relationship with the glasswork. As we begin to interpret meaning from the glasswork we consummate that relationship by our selection of words a nanosecond after the glasswork gains our attention in our holistic multi-sensory response.
To put specific words to a glasswork is to frame the work. Brian Parkes argues the words are the work, but I add that as an idea around the work they are not fixed. As words they attach to the object to become the work as an idea. We have translated the object into meaning. Words delineate our perception of the work, and these words sharpen into definition as the articulation of concept when we ask, “What is it?” Any answer to that question is a language construction by which we elaborate on a story. A myth is thus being created around the work. This myth is not the thing, but our idea of the thing. Here it is a constructed understanding, garnered from within our cultural context. It is a new form generated by the viewer, from the work as an object within a place and time. In our perception of a work total objectivity is impossible, because what is read and/or felt will vary from viewer to viewer within the context of each reading. It is implication, Roland Barthes’ ‘signified’, [1] that explains the paradox of the work being the thing that is fixed – the object to be seen and touched – yet also being of a temporal nature and contextually dependant.
This virtual form/concept/myth is not the entity that is the work. We start from the object as a physical thing in space, but beyond that we conjecture. In our interpretation we wrap the object in cultural reference, and that cannot be avoided, because any interpretation draws meaning from our cultural context. ‘What is’ becomes ‘what is represented’, and what is represented is a composite of layered verticality. Significance is attached through imposed meaning, and meaning is layered upon meaning and expressed as words, or felt as experience. All this takes form as our understanding of the work. This is compressed within our definition of the object as concept, and the definition more than hints at narrative. That is, the object is wrapped in story – not one, but many. I now examine the narratives available to give meaning to the glasswork.
Words and Creative Making
In an extrapolation from Barthes’ signified, a single glass object as an entity can become what I would call a mutating signifier through connotation. That is, the glass object is open to different interpretations of meaning because meaning is dependant on the viewer and the context of the viewing. The glass object itself is open to multiple interpretations as it interacts with each viewer’s aesthetic sensibility to generate meaning.
Meaning is expressed as words, and those words make up the narratives that expand our works and drive the engagement that others have with our work, but they also provide insights that trawl into who we are as people. For British collector Alan Poole the narrative might be a story attached to the piece, or might turn on the artist who made the work, or it may be one of cultural aesthetics built into the form of the piece itself. The point I am making is that narratives are more than the telling of an extrinsic story through the work. They are intrinsic to the material, to the object, to its maker and to the processes of its making, and the viewer shapes them as context for interpretation.
For example, certain objects made by glass artist Deb Cocks are works of fused glass enamels on the back of bowls made of kiln-formed, iron-free float glass. Beyond this medium-based selection of words – a technical narrative with its own history – the works fit into a cultural context, for the bowl form itself is functional in a domestic tradition, and the domestic theme is echoed in the subject matter of her applied painting.[2] In the context of individual expression, these works by Cocks are what she calls the ‘tells’[3] of her life, and personally, it is her sharing of this intimate narrative that most attracts me.
I have exampled narratives (technical, domestic, professional, broadly cultural or intimately personal) that enmesh Deb Cocks’ work – the narratives that are explicit in the words selected to articulate a meaning from these objects. A glass object’s making can be driven, or its form distorted or confused by the words that surround it. If we emotionally engaged in the viewing of a work then understanding how that engagement is triggered enables us to analytically assess what is a romantic reaction. If there are narratives that we are engaging with, knowing which narratives is part of that assessment.
Form Shaped by Narrative
The validity of the meaning we take from a glasswork lies in context, for we draw that meaning from our interpretation, and interpretation is a proposal dependant on the circumstance of person, place and time.
The narrative form presents us with diverse options. For the viewer, the narrative may be guided by the work’s title, or left open by the absence of a title – words change our perception of the work. To accept narrative as the idea that we perceive as the work is to accept that, in our viewing of it, the tangible, fixed, made-object can express transformation, or be a sequence of events. This is because event lies in the nature of narrative. To accept the work as narrative is to accept that in our viewing, the work is able to expand, and to engage us within the context of our situation.
The work drives its narratives, but they come from outside the work’s own inviolate physical existence by way of implication and interpretation, and here lies the work’s potential for cultural power and multiplicity. Once interpretation is brought into play it enables the work to move through the past, the present and into the future. For, expanded into narrative, our interpretation can address methodology, epistemology and ontology. Whatever the implication, the work becomes more than one single moment laden with significance.[4] For the work’s poetic nature is in its potential for multiple reading. The work, as iconic landscape, or as figurative representation, or as an example of the aesthetics of form, may contain all the retentional and potentional force with which Edmund Husserl encapsulates memory[5] and expectation.[6] And as long as the work holds seeds of narrative it is dynamic. It lives. Stephen Procter might have been telling us this when he wrote, “Planting these seeds, the past, the present and the future are contained within – every moment presenting a potential. The artist is not simply capturing the now, but also embodying the past and the future”[7].
Stories extend beyond a single work in more ways than one, because pieces exist within bodies of work. These bodies of work are catalogues, and they can be read as the narratives of individual stylistic development situated in a larger field of practitioners. Those practitioners evidence narratives that may be technical, or academic and are certainly cultural. All is narrative field intersecting and overlapping narrative field. There is a distinct narrative rooted in an individual’s gesture existing as one field of the narrative, that itself exists within larger narratives, and all extend through time, that is, the work can be caught up in a broader narrative – of artists, a style, or a movement. There are also the narratives generated by educational institutions, by galleries and their curators, by publications, by professional organizations and by materials suppliers.[8] The object is enmeshed in narratives the moment it engages us to that point where we attach meaning to it.
Narratives come with place and audience, and will determine the appropriateness of choices in any exhibition. Understanding narratives will also clarify the mysteries of those same selections for the makers offering up work for exhibitions. In the selection process the curator or institution is an arbiter of providence. His or her responsibility is to understand as much as possible about the work, the artist and the group, and also to tell appropriate stories that are of interest to their audience. As a matter of interest the Latin origin of the term curator is overseer or guardian, and as such they are the keepers and guardians of stories as well as objects. The works in the care of curators are elements of narratives and hold their position through their place in their particular story. The object may move between stories, even moving significantly outside the realm of its originally conceived narrative, but this is the adaptability of the object/narrative relationship. It is even possible that, like the Colossus of Rhodes, an object could be lost completely, to leave only stories as the echo of its providence, and if the story is powerful enough the work may become iconic.
A Unique Narrative?
In their creative making, makers weave their unique story, which can be subtly tied into a particular form of production, or material type, or the exploration of an idea. A deeper understanding of the maker’s narrative can lead to acceptance of new works, and if successful and given time, a narrative will establish a professional identity. As Richard Whiteley explained: “you define yourself within your practice”.[9] An artist’s narrative grants providence to objects made by that particular individual.
An individual artistic narrative is made more obvious by a body of work, while in turn this body of work provides a deeper understanding of each unique piece within it. When linked by individual gesture marked on form through technique, an individual artist’s narrative also demonstrates authenticity. Extending through the object is the narrative of a journey; a journey that brought the maker to that point and hints at where their work may go in the future. A body of work resonates with the flow of this narrative, and the body of work allows the possibility for a viewer to have a relationship beyond the single work, to have a relationship with the maker through what the maker does. In the viewer’s recognition of that narrative, he or she connects to a deeper involvement with those aspects of making linked to that narrative. The flow of the maker’s narrative may also act as a guide to the maker if they seek direction in their work, but if the body of work is too diverse, or too sparse, it may be difficult for a viewer to obtain perspective across works. Some viewers want to follow genuine and consistent development through on-going work, and in that way engage with the individual pieces in a more meaningful way.
With the requirement to earn a living, the need for young makers to establish themselves within the market is generally recognised amongst glass artists. Young makers strive to make a name by entering competitions and gaining access into the in galleries. In keeping with the American ethos of individual creativity in their narrative as artist, they may seek new ground, and looking to see where their practice fits they reference the work of early studio glass artists. The early choices they make in labelling their practice become significant, for later in their career it may be hard to change the narratives created by those labels. They build their career by making decisions such as where to exhibit. They need time to develop an independent voice and to demonstrate their commitment to their practice over the long term.
Engaging the Market
If the artist’s work is too diverse, their narrative is erratic, they can be criticised for being inconsistent, or lacking substance. The artist’s narrative is a factor in selling work. As interest grows, more work is demanded. Once collectors take an interest, the body of work linked by the individual’s narrative creates reference points for meaningful research. That research leads to assessments, and those in turn enable collectors to make confident decisions. This is especially so if publications and institutions endorse the narrative. Furthermore the venue in which a work is exhibited carries its own narrative, and by association this transfers to the work it displays. This becomes a significant issue in the categorisation of work, and astute makers become highly sensitive to the power of such contexts and can be resolute in controlling the environment in which their work is displayed.
The contextual narratives that are carried by elements such as labelling a practice and choosing an exhibition venue are important to the artist because narrative is a marketable commodity. It reassures collectors. A narrative re-enforces the provenance of a work, and gives collectors a tangible context for the particular piece they are buying. Therefore the promotion of a credible narrative around the maker’s work becomes a significant element in the market value of a work. Attached to an object a narrative can generate an element of exclusivity, and exclusivity will increase price. An artist’s reputation is evidence of a narrative, and the significance granted to the maker once recognised as an individual of repute is considerable. An individual artist’s narrative can even override the poor quality of a particular piece making it saleable, and thus providing evidence of narrative being an integral part of the concept of market value for that piece. The price of a work shifts upward significantly when we recognise it as original work by an autonomous creator expressive of self in some way. So a work gains market value both through the narrative of the individual maker (reputation) and the originality of the piece that marks it as a distinctive contribution to other narratives, while still remaining consistent within the narrative that is the maker’s body of work.
The Choking Narrative
A negative aspect of the link between the individual maker’s narrative to the calculation of commercial product is that then the artist’s narrative inhibits change and discourages risk taking. The stability of a narrative is commercially important because, as James Wood argues, “gallery owners and collectors … reward consistency more than experimentation”.[10] Whether this comment is justified or not, it takes time for change to be absorbed and accepted by the buying public. Stability can stall development. There is a tendency for some studio glass practitioners, supported by sales, to repeat the same work for years. This is most obvious if an artist repeatedly exploits one ‘trick’ for its commercial leverage. Collectors who focused on thematic lines close to the surface of works may be disconcerted by change – even in those superficial narratives; or those collectors may be unsettled by work that is visually different, even if it is conceptually cohesive. The particular maker’s narrative (as evident in the work and connoted as style) creates expectations, and as such can be inhibiting. While in the commercial world, new works by a maker might be eagerly anticipated, an existing narrative will filter what follows. Apparent change in direction and the breaking of a perceived narrative can make it harder to market a new work. Once a narrative theme is established, buyers attracted to that theme may not financially support changes that take them outside what they consider to be the flow of that narrative. Once established, a saleable story is hard to change. In the art world this can contract into a ‘myth-based’ brand, a brand established through repetition of form and anchored in process in pursuit of an idea. Form, process and idea all carry narratives that combine to reinforce and build on the larger narrative that is the artist’s brand.
A maker might hesitate in taking a commercial risk with their brand, but makers and collectors may both come to the point where transformation is required to maintain the deeper artistic narrative of the maker and the narratives of a wider group (the gallery, the movement). If the only consideration is commercial success, there is a risk of stagnation in the feedback loop created between a market demand and the satisfaction of that demand. There needs to be change. A discerning collector will persevere through a maker’s change and development, because they sense the deeper artistic narrative, and this understanding heightens their interest in the maker’s work. The contemporary market will come around because it hungers for the new. If the narrative’s generic need for transformation is ignored superficial narratives lose appeal. A narrative can wither to mere cliché. Makers must evolve their work in various ways. However, even when a work appears to stay within one theme, transformation can be achieved through verticality, that is, through the layered exploration of that theme. An idea reworked over a long period can develop depth and emerge as profound.
It is human to stay with a known story, especially if that story has brought success. However, narrative is a dynamic form. If a narrative is perceived to stagnate there is little guaranteeing that collectors will continue to purchase work, even if it demonstrates improving skill. An example of this stagnation can be found in the tendency for Australian glassmakers to move to a surface narrative too readily. Such a narrative is often derived from an interesting body of student work. Possibly encouraged by a gallery, this becomes the basis for on-going work and continues for years with little further innovation. Any gallery with vision will look for development in bodies of work. All worthwhile narrative lives; and living things change and develop. For the artist in studio glass that change is the natural evolution of personal aesthetic supported by skills development.
The Narrative as a Carrier of Histories
While bodies of work develop, the means of their making and presentation also carry histories. The vessel is an example of a narrative based in a form associated with glass. For two thousand years the vessel has been a constant point of reference, and in contemporary glass it provides a refuge for both artist and collector.[11] This is a cultural narrative inherent to material and form, and it is active as metaphor. For example, Stephen Procter said he used vessel forms, “because they are a significant symbol of giving and receiving, the constant process of growth and renewal. With art, with glass, the form is the embodiment of breath – it is the space within which governs outer form”[12].
Forms, materials, processes and genres all carry their own histories. They are but some of the many possible narratives entangling the work, and they are loaded against the unwary. They carry preconceptions for markets that may extend, or limit commercial value, as our craft and fine art narratives illustrate. Being embedded with these histories brings expectations, and while any considered mutation or rejection of these histories can break new ground and draw attention as critique, careless disregard can become a barrier to engagement with the work.
The idea that narratives articulate the meaning we derive from an object is not unique to studio glass, but it is no less relevant. In terms of our engagement, narratives form context but are also subject to it. Whether it is appropriate to a maker’s intent, or it is not, the application of a narrative (if that narrative is powerful enough) has the power to connote form, because the narrative gives the work context, and that becomes the presentation from which we derive meaning. Accepting that Romanticism is concerned with quality rather than rule, if we want to understand why we are emotionally responding to a form, identifying its narratives is important.
[1] Roland Barthes, Mythologies, trans. Lavers, Annette, New York: Hill and Wang, 1972, 113.
[2] Ivana Jirasek, ‘Celebrating the Ordinary’, Craft Arts International no. 34, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 1995, 60-61.
[3] Deb Cocks, personal interview, 04/12/08, 1.
[4] Robert Nelson and Richard Shiff, eds., Critical Terms for Art History, 2nd ed., Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2003. 68.
[5] Antoine Leperlier calls glass the material of memory as referenced in Dan Klein’s article ‘Expressions of Gravitas’, Craft Arts International no. 63, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 2005, 28.
[6] Nelson and Shiff, Critical Terms, .68.
[7] Christine Procter and Itzell Tazzyman, Lines Through Light, catalogue, Canberra RLDI and Christine Proctor, 2008, 116.
[8] That Bullseye provides a technical narrative was evident in the Latitudes exhibition of the mid-nineties – see Priscilla Henderson, ‘Latitudes’, Craft Arts International no. 37, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 1996, 94-95 and Martha D. Lynn, American Studio Glass, 94.
[9] Richard Whiteley, personal interview, 10/12/09, 3.
[10] James Wood, ‘Small Change: Can top artists working in glass shake off their stylistic stasis.’ The UrbanGlass Quarterly no. 115, 60.
[11] Dan Klein, ‘Abstraction in Glass’, Craft Arts International no. 7, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 1986, 32 – 33.
[12] Procter and Tazzyman, Lines Through Light, 94.
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I analyse the narratives that entangle both the glasswork and the practice that created it, and that deliver meaning through relationship between visual form and word. In this, narratives create ground for the viewer’s romantic engagement with both the glasswork and the artist.
Words and the Glasswork/Object
To place the glasswork in context with a label is to set parameters for interpretation of meaning. The glasswork becomes concept, and that presupposes a direction towards outcomes. Setting parameters for the glasswork posits a perspective. We move beyond the work as a physical thing for the purpose of enclosing it in interpretation. We use language to form a scenario in order to determine meaning. The process of determining meaning begins once our attention brings us into relationship with the glasswork. As we begin to interpret meaning from the glasswork we consummate that relationship by our selection of words a nanosecond after the glasswork gains our attention in our holistic multi-sensory response.
To put specific words to a glasswork is to frame the work. Brian Parkes argues the words are the work, but I add that as an idea around the work they are not fixed. As words they attach to the object to become the work as an idea. We have translated the object into meaning. Words delineate our perception of the work, and these words sharpen into definition as the articulation of concept when we ask, “What is it?” Any answer to that question is a language construction by which we elaborate on a story. A myth is thus being created around the work. This myth is not the thing, but our idea of the thing. Here it is a constructed understanding, garnered from within our cultural context. It is a new form generated by the viewer, from the work as an object within a place and time. In our perception of a work total objectivity is impossible, because what is read and/or felt will vary from viewer to viewer within the context of each reading. It is implication, Roland Barthes’ ‘signified’, [1] that explains the paradox of the work being the thing that is fixed – the object to be seen and touched – yet also being of a temporal nature and contextually dependant.
This virtual form/concept/myth is not the entity that is the work. We start from the object as a physical thing in space, but beyond that we conjecture. In our interpretation we wrap the object in cultural reference, and that cannot be avoided, because any interpretation draws meaning from our cultural context. ‘What is’ becomes ‘what is represented’, and what is represented is a composite of layered verticality. Significance is attached through imposed meaning, and meaning is layered upon meaning and expressed as words, or felt as experience. All this takes form as our understanding of the work. This is compressed within our definition of the object as concept, and the definition more than hints at narrative. That is, the object is wrapped in story – not one, but many. I now examine the narratives available to give meaning to the glasswork.
Words and Creative Making
In an extrapolation from Barthes’ signified, a single glass object as an entity can become what I would call a mutating signifier through connotation. That is, the glass object is open to different interpretations of meaning because meaning is dependant on the viewer and the context of the viewing. The glass object itself is open to multiple interpretations as it interacts with each viewer’s aesthetic sensibility to generate meaning.
Meaning is expressed as words, and those words make up the narratives that expand our works and drive the engagement that others have with our work, but they also provide insights that trawl into who we are as people. For British collector Alan Poole the narrative might be a story attached to the piece, or might turn on the artist who made the work, or it may be one of cultural aesthetics built into the form of the piece itself. The point I am making is that narratives are more than the telling of an extrinsic story through the work. They are intrinsic to the material, to the object, to its maker and to the processes of its making, and the viewer shapes them as context for interpretation.
For example, certain objects made by glass artist Deb Cocks are works of fused glass enamels on the back of bowls made of kiln-formed, iron-free float glass. Beyond this medium-based selection of words – a technical narrative with its own history – the works fit into a cultural context, for the bowl form itself is functional in a domestic tradition, and the domestic theme is echoed in the subject matter of her applied painting.[2] In the context of individual expression, these works by Cocks are what she calls the ‘tells’[3] of her life, and personally, it is her sharing of this intimate narrative that most attracts me.
I have exampled narratives (technical, domestic, professional, broadly cultural or intimately personal) that enmesh Deb Cocks’ work – the narratives that are explicit in the words selected to articulate a meaning from these objects. A glass object’s making can be driven, or its form distorted or confused by the words that surround it. If we emotionally engaged in the viewing of a work then understanding how that engagement is triggered enables us to analytically assess what is a romantic reaction. If there are narratives that we are engaging with, knowing which narratives is part of that assessment.
Form Shaped by Narrative
The validity of the meaning we take from a glasswork lies in context, for we draw that meaning from our interpretation, and interpretation is a proposal dependant on the circumstance of person, place and time.
The narrative form presents us with diverse options. For the viewer, the narrative may be guided by the work’s title, or left open by the absence of a title – words change our perception of the work. To accept narrative as the idea that we perceive as the work is to accept that, in our viewing of it, the tangible, fixed, made-object can express transformation, or be a sequence of events. This is because event lies in the nature of narrative. To accept the work as narrative is to accept that in our viewing, the work is able to expand, and to engage us within the context of our situation.
The work drives its narratives, but they come from outside the work’s own inviolate physical existence by way of implication and interpretation, and here lies the work’s potential for cultural power and multiplicity. Once interpretation is brought into play it enables the work to move through the past, the present and into the future. For, expanded into narrative, our interpretation can address methodology, epistemology and ontology. Whatever the implication, the work becomes more than one single moment laden with significance.[4] For the work’s poetic nature is in its potential for multiple reading. The work, as iconic landscape, or as figurative representation, or as an example of the aesthetics of form, may contain all the retentional and potentional force with which Edmund Husserl encapsulates memory[5] and expectation.[6] And as long as the work holds seeds of narrative it is dynamic. It lives. Stephen Procter might have been telling us this when he wrote, “Planting these seeds, the past, the present and the future are contained within – every moment presenting a potential. The artist is not simply capturing the now, but also embodying the past and the future”[7].
Stories extend beyond a single work in more ways than one, because pieces exist within bodies of work. These bodies of work are catalogues, and they can be read as the narratives of individual stylistic development situated in a larger field of practitioners. Those practitioners evidence narratives that may be technical, or academic and are certainly cultural. All is narrative field intersecting and overlapping narrative field. There is a distinct narrative rooted in an individual’s gesture existing as one field of the narrative, that itself exists within larger narratives, and all extend through time, that is, the work can be caught up in a broader narrative – of artists, a style, or a movement. There are also the narratives generated by educational institutions, by galleries and their curators, by publications, by professional organizations and by materials suppliers.[8] The object is enmeshed in narratives the moment it engages us to that point where we attach meaning to it.
Narratives come with place and audience, and will determine the appropriateness of choices in any exhibition. Understanding narratives will also clarify the mysteries of those same selections for the makers offering up work for exhibitions. In the selection process the curator or institution is an arbiter of providence. His or her responsibility is to understand as much as possible about the work, the artist and the group, and also to tell appropriate stories that are of interest to their audience. As a matter of interest the Latin origin of the term curator is overseer or guardian, and as such they are the keepers and guardians of stories as well as objects. The works in the care of curators are elements of narratives and hold their position through their place in their particular story. The object may move between stories, even moving significantly outside the realm of its originally conceived narrative, but this is the adaptability of the object/narrative relationship. It is even possible that, like the Colossus of Rhodes, an object could be lost completely, to leave only stories as the echo of its providence, and if the story is powerful enough the work may become iconic.
A Unique Narrative?
In their creative making, makers weave their unique story, which can be subtly tied into a particular form of production, or material type, or the exploration of an idea. A deeper understanding of the maker’s narrative can lead to acceptance of new works, and if successful and given time, a narrative will establish a professional identity. As Richard Whiteley explained: “you define yourself within your practice”.[9] An artist’s narrative grants providence to objects made by that particular individual.
An individual artistic narrative is made more obvious by a body of work, while in turn this body of work provides a deeper understanding of each unique piece within it. When linked by individual gesture marked on form through technique, an individual artist’s narrative also demonstrates authenticity. Extending through the object is the narrative of a journey; a journey that brought the maker to that point and hints at where their work may go in the future. A body of work resonates with the flow of this narrative, and the body of work allows the possibility for a viewer to have a relationship beyond the single work, to have a relationship with the maker through what the maker does. In the viewer’s recognition of that narrative, he or she connects to a deeper involvement with those aspects of making linked to that narrative. The flow of the maker’s narrative may also act as a guide to the maker if they seek direction in their work, but if the body of work is too diverse, or too sparse, it may be difficult for a viewer to obtain perspective across works. Some viewers want to follow genuine and consistent development through on-going work, and in that way engage with the individual pieces in a more meaningful way.
With the requirement to earn a living, the need for young makers to establish themselves within the market is generally recognised amongst glass artists. Young makers strive to make a name by entering competitions and gaining access into the in galleries. In keeping with the American ethos of individual creativity in their narrative as artist, they may seek new ground, and looking to see where their practice fits they reference the work of early studio glass artists. The early choices they make in labelling their practice become significant, for later in their career it may be hard to change the narratives created by those labels. They build their career by making decisions such as where to exhibit. They need time to develop an independent voice and to demonstrate their commitment to their practice over the long term.
Engaging the Market
If the artist’s work is too diverse, their narrative is erratic, they can be criticised for being inconsistent, or lacking substance. The artist’s narrative is a factor in selling work. As interest grows, more work is demanded. Once collectors take an interest, the body of work linked by the individual’s narrative creates reference points for meaningful research. That research leads to assessments, and those in turn enable collectors to make confident decisions. This is especially so if publications and institutions endorse the narrative. Furthermore the venue in which a work is exhibited carries its own narrative, and by association this transfers to the work it displays. This becomes a significant issue in the categorisation of work, and astute makers become highly sensitive to the power of such contexts and can be resolute in controlling the environment in which their work is displayed.
The contextual narratives that are carried by elements such as labelling a practice and choosing an exhibition venue are important to the artist because narrative is a marketable commodity. It reassures collectors. A narrative re-enforces the provenance of a work, and gives collectors a tangible context for the particular piece they are buying. Therefore the promotion of a credible narrative around the maker’s work becomes a significant element in the market value of a work. Attached to an object a narrative can generate an element of exclusivity, and exclusivity will increase price. An artist’s reputation is evidence of a narrative, and the significance granted to the maker once recognised as an individual of repute is considerable. An individual artist’s narrative can even override the poor quality of a particular piece making it saleable, and thus providing evidence of narrative being an integral part of the concept of market value for that piece. The price of a work shifts upward significantly when we recognise it as original work by an autonomous creator expressive of self in some way. So a work gains market value both through the narrative of the individual maker (reputation) and the originality of the piece that marks it as a distinctive contribution to other narratives, while still remaining consistent within the narrative that is the maker’s body of work.
The Choking Narrative
A negative aspect of the link between the individual maker’s narrative to the calculation of commercial product is that then the artist’s narrative inhibits change and discourages risk taking. The stability of a narrative is commercially important because, as James Wood argues, “gallery owners and collectors … reward consistency more than experimentation”.[10] Whether this comment is justified or not, it takes time for change to be absorbed and accepted by the buying public. Stability can stall development. There is a tendency for some studio glass practitioners, supported by sales, to repeat the same work for years. This is most obvious if an artist repeatedly exploits one ‘trick’ for its commercial leverage. Collectors who focused on thematic lines close to the surface of works may be disconcerted by change – even in those superficial narratives; or those collectors may be unsettled by work that is visually different, even if it is conceptually cohesive. The particular maker’s narrative (as evident in the work and connoted as style) creates expectations, and as such can be inhibiting. While in the commercial world, new works by a maker might be eagerly anticipated, an existing narrative will filter what follows. Apparent change in direction and the breaking of a perceived narrative can make it harder to market a new work. Once a narrative theme is established, buyers attracted to that theme may not financially support changes that take them outside what they consider to be the flow of that narrative. Once established, a saleable story is hard to change. In the art world this can contract into a ‘myth-based’ brand, a brand established through repetition of form and anchored in process in pursuit of an idea. Form, process and idea all carry narratives that combine to reinforce and build on the larger narrative that is the artist’s brand.
A maker might hesitate in taking a commercial risk with their brand, but makers and collectors may both come to the point where transformation is required to maintain the deeper artistic narrative of the maker and the narratives of a wider group (the gallery, the movement). If the only consideration is commercial success, there is a risk of stagnation in the feedback loop created between a market demand and the satisfaction of that demand. There needs to be change. A discerning collector will persevere through a maker’s change and development, because they sense the deeper artistic narrative, and this understanding heightens their interest in the maker’s work. The contemporary market will come around because it hungers for the new. If the narrative’s generic need for transformation is ignored superficial narratives lose appeal. A narrative can wither to mere cliché. Makers must evolve their work in various ways. However, even when a work appears to stay within one theme, transformation can be achieved through verticality, that is, through the layered exploration of that theme. An idea reworked over a long period can develop depth and emerge as profound.
It is human to stay with a known story, especially if that story has brought success. However, narrative is a dynamic form. If a narrative is perceived to stagnate there is little guaranteeing that collectors will continue to purchase work, even if it demonstrates improving skill. An example of this stagnation can be found in the tendency for Australian glassmakers to move to a surface narrative too readily. Such a narrative is often derived from an interesting body of student work. Possibly encouraged by a gallery, this becomes the basis for on-going work and continues for years with little further innovation. Any gallery with vision will look for development in bodies of work. All worthwhile narrative lives; and living things change and develop. For the artist in studio glass that change is the natural evolution of personal aesthetic supported by skills development.
The Narrative as a Carrier of Histories
While bodies of work develop, the means of their making and presentation also carry histories. The vessel is an example of a narrative based in a form associated with glass. For two thousand years the vessel has been a constant point of reference, and in contemporary glass it provides a refuge for both artist and collector.[11] This is a cultural narrative inherent to material and form, and it is active as metaphor. For example, Stephen Procter said he used vessel forms, “because they are a significant symbol of giving and receiving, the constant process of growth and renewal. With art, with glass, the form is the embodiment of breath – it is the space within which governs outer form”[12].
Forms, materials, processes and genres all carry their own histories. They are but some of the many possible narratives entangling the work, and they are loaded against the unwary. They carry preconceptions for markets that may extend, or limit commercial value, as our craft and fine art narratives illustrate. Being embedded with these histories brings expectations, and while any considered mutation or rejection of these histories can break new ground and draw attention as critique, careless disregard can become a barrier to engagement with the work.
The idea that narratives articulate the meaning we derive from an object is not unique to studio glass, but it is no less relevant. In terms of our engagement, narratives form context but are also subject to it. Whether it is appropriate to a maker’s intent, or it is not, the application of a narrative (if that narrative is powerful enough) has the power to connote form, because the narrative gives the work context, and that becomes the presentation from which we derive meaning. Accepting that Romanticism is concerned with quality rather than rule, if we want to understand why we are emotionally responding to a form, identifying its narratives is important.
[1] Roland Barthes, Mythologies, trans. Lavers, Annette, New York: Hill and Wang, 1972, 113.
[2] Ivana Jirasek, ‘Celebrating the Ordinary’, Craft Arts International no. 34, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 1995, 60-61.
[3] Deb Cocks, personal interview, 04/12/08, 1.
[4] Robert Nelson and Richard Shiff, eds., Critical Terms for Art History, 2nd ed., Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2003. 68.
[5] Antoine Leperlier calls glass the material of memory as referenced in Dan Klein’s article ‘Expressions of Gravitas’, Craft Arts International no. 63, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 2005, 28.
[6] Nelson and Shiff, Critical Terms, .68.
[7] Christine Procter and Itzell Tazzyman, Lines Through Light, catalogue, Canberra RLDI and Christine Proctor, 2008, 116.
[8] That Bullseye provides a technical narrative was evident in the Latitudes exhibition of the mid-nineties – see Priscilla Henderson, ‘Latitudes’, Craft Arts International no. 37, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 1996, 94-95 and Martha D. Lynn, American Studio Glass, 94.
[9] Richard Whiteley, personal interview, 10/12/09, 3.
[10] James Wood, ‘Small Change: Can top artists working in glass shake off their stylistic stasis.’ The UrbanGlass Quarterly no. 115, 60.
[11] Dan Klein, ‘Abstraction in Glass’, Craft Arts International no. 7, Sydney: Craft Arts Pty Ltd, 1986, 32 – 33.
[12] Procter and Tazzyman, Lines Through Light, 94.
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