Globes Part 7

I posted a still of David Byrne's Tight Spot once many years ago. It is an appropriate time to reintroduce it (at the very least check out the part in the video at 1:30 where it is opened up and we get a view inside of it). At least I know that I will have it a lot easier than inflating this gargantuan object (though Byrne didn't have to battle cactus and wind).



Tight Spot from Todo Mundo on Vimeo.

Teju Cole, From Blind Spot

Jon Horvath, From the series Wide Eyed

[I am fairly sure I am a descendant of the owners of this house in Amsterdam, or at least a more organized neat freak version of them.]

 Eli Craven

Douglas Ljungkvist, From the series Ocean Beach

 

Upside Down and Right Side Up

Paleis Amsterdam in 2005

Many people have referenced Atlas in relationship to the 7' inflatable helium globe. I have a sneaking suspicion a photograph emulating my favorite depiction of that sculpture might occur (though there is a difference between the earth and the skies and between a country thinking it is at the center of the universe and a solitary human knowing that she is not). That comparison reminds me of Erwin Wurm's The Artist Who Swallowed the World as both are rendered helpless (or still due to their actions).

Erwin Wurm, The Artist Who Swallowed the World, 2006

I purchased the inflatable globe before I saw this article featuring Mark Wallinger's new installation. This coincides with my interest in scale and the need for the "earth" to be prominent in its environment and larger than most human beings.

Mark Wallinger, The World Turned Upside Down [images via]

In "Mark Wallinger's New Sculpture Turns the World Upside Down," Louisa Buck writes: 

"Viewed on the surface of a walkaround globe rather than in the familiar rectangular form of the flattened, projected Mercator map, the true scale of Africa and South America becomes immediately apparent. As does the enormity of the Pacific Ocean. 'It is rather magnificent to see the full size of Africa,' said Wallinger, adding that he first conceived the piece back in 2013, 'when we had a coalition government and Donald Trump was just a reality TV star and a failing property developer.' Of course this image of what Wallinger describes as 'the world from a different viewpoint: familiar, strange and subject to change' chimes especially loudly with current upheavals." 

After acquiring a National Geographic "Top of the World" map a couple years ago, I have thought heavily about how our continental locations translate to how we view the world, specifically how the perspective of the Poles is altered when it is centered and not warped into something that it is is not, as seen on top of a globe. The vastness of water and the insignificance of land is one of my favorite parts of Wallinger's The World Turned Upside Down.

1 Failure + 1 Failure = 1 Success or Another Failure? TBD

It began last October when I had an idea about inflated globes floating in a pool. I do not ever stop thinking about water as a method of suspension, swimming pools or globes, therefore what would it be like to combine all three?  I called my friend Tricia to see if she had access to a swimming pool that had not yet been drained. Turns out she was closing on a house in three days that had one and if I could acquire the props, borrow an air compressor, and photograph it in a small window between 6 hours of sleep and a 10 hour work day, I could do it (and so I did).

I was never a math major nor did I know the dimensions of the pool despite staring at the satellite view of it on Google Maps hoping it would come to me. Surely thirty would be enough, right? Wrong ....

 

... but it was a beautiful fall day though and I filed it away as something to consider later.  

A month later, another thought occurred to me. What if I brought a 4' inflatable globe balloon to the U.S. Mexican border wall on my trip to Arizona in January and document it there?  If I could acquire the prop, borrow an air compressor and convince two incredibly generous friends to help me photograph it, I could do it (and so I did).

I certainly do not have a degree in meteorology but having lived in the desert during the winter, you would think I would have remembered the wind in January but no, I did not. I took some mediocre photographs and Camden made a slow motion video of it before it popped on a cactus (above are the remains).

It was a colossal failure but I could not stop visualizing it and felt it necessary to make art along the Border Wall when it is a daily occurrence in the news. The concept of bringing "far closer to here" is very much a part of my current series, Metaphorical Antipodes, and I wanted to find a way to make this happen.

When something is unsuccessful on a smaller scale, one would logically deduce that resolving it before moving on to far larger would be a wise idea but no.... I purchased a 7' inflatable helium globe with several misspellings (yes, I will count them all and no, I will never be able to fold it in such a small square again).

On a rainy day in April, I inflated it after borrowing a compressor once again. I applied for a couple grants and (insert great amazement) received one of them.

The first thing I purchased with the award money was an air compressor (surprise) and after several trials and errors, a leaf blower with a funnel attachment proved to be the best way to inflate this beast without access to electricity.

So what are the odds of failure once again? Is the third time really the charm? Am I truly driving 5000 miles in the heat of the summer and monsoon season to try? If I could acquire all the equipment, reserve the rental car and accommodations, and concoct an itinerary in a manner of three weeks, I could do it (and so I will).

Behind the Scenes of the First Antipode Photograph

In January, Amelia and I ventured into the cold and discovered many globes at Midland Antique Mall in Indianapolis. I have a $10 rule (one of the reasons why I have not acquired many new ones in the last couple years) and most of them were beyond that price range.

One caught my eye and I surrendered to the higher price of $14 but not without a lot of angst as to whether or not I wanted to destroy it. It helped that it was in sorry shape and fell apart at the cash register. That piece of tape held the two pieces together like a pro, however, as it was the stand that collapsed immediately.

I am continuing my love affair with responding to Toiletpaper Magazine's calendar in 2017 on Instagram and knew that in addition to creating a new photograph, it would be a "twice used prop" as March featured one of my favorite Maurizio Cattelan and Pierpaolo Ferrari's images [above] as first seen on the cover of The New York Times Magazine.

My sphere was black and I had no intention of matching the exterior color. I tried to guess the most appropriate ocean blue while at the hardware store without a globe in front of me (I should know better by now as I was wildly off). I asked the man at the paint counter how much I should buy and he thought a quart would fill it. I was deeply skeptical and opted for a gallon instead.

Two people had recently sent me this link on how globes were made in the 1950s so I was not that surprised to see this was how the interior was constructed.

I plugged the hole in Antarctica with duct tape and after extensive contemplation, hoped this towel and plastic sheet method would hold the globe still, not toppling over onto the floor and backdrop the moment I poured the paint.

I had the wherewithal to photograph the unhappy moment when I realized that a gallon was not enough [insert lots of swearing here]. I scrambled all over the building trying to resolve this issue, all the while knowing that this was a cardboard structure and my time was limited.

This did not work...

... but the very scary filling it with 100 ounces of water and stirring it did. Unfortunately, it was not easy to move and my compositions were limited but it did produce a hue that looked more like "globe water."

I was able to make 16 responses as a "twice used prop" before I threw everything away. One of my colleagues told me I looked like I was hauling body parts out of the building in trash bags. I still have the top half and wonder what role it will play in the future.

Something New is Brewing

An antipode is defined as the part of the earth that is diametrically opposite. The term was first used in 1549 in relationship to Australia and New Zealand’s position on the globe, contrasting with Western Europe. I will approach it as the place or condition furthest from “here.” I am searching for physical and metaphorical antipodes and will represent them through photographs created in the studio, a fabricated landscape, or their exact location on earth. In its most simple terms, my interpretation will show how "here" affects "there" and "there" impacts everywhere.

Globes Part 6

X-ray of a Celestial Globe by Benjamin Martin after 1757

My mother bought me this book for Christmas and I was drawn to the ancient forms and the alteration of the globe into other functional objects (toys, umbrellas, etc.). In the x-ray above, one can see the nails and support pillar. There is also a bag of lead shot inside.

Dissected Globe Educational Game, c. 1866

Dissected Globe Educational Game, c. 1866

Drawing of a Terrestrial Globe

Pocket globes (!) with Interior Celestial Globe, c. 1715 [I will take one of these please]

From Globes: 400 Years of Exploration: "Martin Behaim’s globe, made in 1492, is thought to be the oldest surviving terrestrial globe. The sources are Ptolemaic and medieval maps, information from Marco Polo. The most remarkable features is that the Americas are not shown, for the globe was completed before Christopher Columbus returned from his westerly voyage."

Terrestrial Umbrella Globe, c. 1860

Francis Benjamin Johnston, A Lesson in Geography in Washington, DC, 1899

Back to the 20th and 21st century:

Mari Mahr, Unconsciously Perhaps, 1988

Olivia Locher, How to See North America

Sage Lewis, Cyanotype Globe [Check out Sage's recent works in her Doha, Qatar studio]

Toilet Paper Magazine

Maurizio Cattelan and Pierpaolo Ferrari for The New York Times Magazine, 22 February 2015

About eight months ago, I became infatuated by Maurizio Cattelan and Pierpaolo Ferrari's Toilet Paper Magazine. I may even have purchased a couple Christmas presents that featured this image...

... and a 2015 calendar...

 ... in which I am currently responding to each month on Instagram...

(with taxidermy coyote eyes)

(and a package of organic rainbow carrots).


From the New Yorker:

In Toilet Paper, the images might appear to have been appropriated from world’s most surreal stock-photograph service, but they’re all made from scratch. “Every issue starts with a theme, always something basic and general, like love or greed,” Cattelan explained. “Then, as we start, we move like a painter on a canvas, layering and building up the issue. We always find ourselves in a place we didn’t expect to be. The best images are the result of improvisation.” Many images are rejected, he said, because they’re “not Toilet Paper enough.” What makes a Toilet Paper photo? “We keep homing in on what a Toilet Paper image is. Like distilling a perfume. It’s not about one particular style or time frame; what makes them Toilet Paper is a special twist. An uncanny ambiguity.”

I wish I had seen Cattelan and Ferrari's mural on the High Line billboard in June 2012:

I am fascinated with any artist/trickster whose work that I have respected who announced his retirement from the art world yet continues to produce provocative imagery (and who may not have truly retired - hello Marcel Duchamp).

Julian Charrière's "We Are All Astronauts On a Little Space Ship Called Earth"

Even though I have a folder on my desktop with fourteen images for a sixth post on globes, Julian Charrière's We are All Astronauts... deserves its own entry. Sage Lewis posted an installation image on Instagram from the Kochi-Muziris Biennale and I haven't stopped thinking about his representation of hanging spheres since.

From Charrière's website:

Medium: 13 found globes made of plastic, paper and wood, steel base with MDF board; dust from globes surface and international mineral sandpaper

"We Are All Astronauts On a Little Spaceship Called Earth, whose title is inspired by the writing of Buckminster Fuller, is composed of 13 abraded world globes, which seem to be floating over a table. The globes date from 1890 to 2011, and the artist has sanded their successive and shifting geopolitical contours until their carefully drawn territories disappeared from their surfaces.To do so, he created a special, 'international sandpaper' with mineral samples from all UN recognized countries, a remnant from one of his previous works, Monument - Sedimentation of Floating Worlds (2013). The dust carried by the abrasion gently settled on the table beneath the globes, creating new, yet to be defined cartographies."

More images of his studio (with pristine globes) can be found here and while this is a link to a sanded globe displayed as a solitary sculpture.

A magnificent cake in Lieko Shiga's "Album/Rasen Kaigan"

Lieko Shiga, From Album/Rasen Kaigan

and while we are at it, here's a globe:

Lieko Shiga, From Album/Rasen Kaigan