Quantcast The Mac Weekly
College Media Network

Current Issue:

Kiki Smith's universal appeal

By: Charles Campbell

Issue date: 3/24/06 Section: The Arts
My relationship with the Walker Art Center can best be described as…complicated. I am at once enamored of and learnedly wary of institutions, specifically artsy ones. I'm lured by the sheen of the crinkled silver tower at the intersection of Hennepin and Lyndale, but turned off by the elitism of the ivory tower art world. While I am interested in art's ability to communicate visually, my interest is equally piqued by the fashionable openings attended by Björk and Matthew Barney. So it happens that what surrounds the art objects—the culture created by the people who make, sell and buy art—often overshadows the art itself.















But Kiki Smith's work does not get lost in the fray. Working primarily with animals and the human form, she creates pieces strong enough to break through the velvet rope of the art world and invite appreciation from the masses. The nation-wide traveling retrospective “A Gathering, 1980-2005,” currently on display at the Walker, articulates the accomplishments of the artist's career that has, paradoxically, not yet reached its conclusion.















Kiki Smith is one of the fortunate few who not only achieve critical success, but do so within their lifetime. Smith was born in New Jersey in 1954 to an opera singer and abstract artist. After a year of art school, she moved to New York City where she began her career working with the human body and materials ranging from beeswax to Japanese paper to bronze while employing a wide variety of process-oriented techniques such as needlepoint and printmaking.















“A Gathering” comprises 125 diverse pieces ranging in medium and scale, from palm-size painted bronze sculptures to entire rooms housing installations. One of the frequent themes Smith revisits is that of gender. Yet her sculptures depicting the female nude resist traditional representations as being lovely or seductive. These women do not languish idly to be gazed at; rather, they writhe, crouch and hang in awkward positions. One figure, Untitled (1995), made of paper and horsehair, hangs on the wall bending down so we cannot even see a face. The bronze Lilith (1994) illustrates this best. The figure, huddled on the wall, glares violently up at its viewers with piercing blue eyes, far from inviting further onlookers.
Page 1 of 2 next >

Article Tools

Be the first to comment on this story

  • NOTE: Email address will not be published

Type your comment below (html not allowed)

  I understand posting spam or other comments that are unrelated to this article will cause my comment to be flagged for deletion and possibly cause my IP address to be permanently banned from this server.

Advertisement

Poll

How should Macalester cover its losses in the financial crisis?
Submit Vote

View Results

Advertisement