Slammer

James Hopkins
2008

Hopkins corrects the imbalance that the medium creates.

Benten Kozō Kikunosuke

Utagawa Kunisada I (Toyokuni III)
1860

This is a theatrical scene from the artist's imagination. The male actor plays a thief who dresses as a woman; the reveal is made by his tattooed arm peeking out, as only men bore tattoos back then. Despite that, I like to think of this as a self-portrait. I mean, I sit on furniture and drink tea with my arm out like that all the time.

A) Everything's gonna be alright

Julien Berthier
2004

or

B) Work No. 790

Martin Creed
2007

A.

Skulls

Julie Moon
circa 2007

Skulls are too dark to keep on display in plain sight in your home, no matter what the attraction is. Canadian artist Julie Moon smooths over the grim discrepancy with her ceramic skulls pictured here. At first glance, the skull is made a lovely object. On second thought, Moon resets the skull. The object, which is usually and expectedly so infused with male bravado, softens. In place of intimidation and death, the innate quality of the skull is brought back to mind: its home within and the sensitivity of it.

Smiling Skull

Gilles Barbier
2008

It's contagious.

Goethe

Jens Stegger Ledaal
date unknown

Friedrich Schiller died in 1805 and was buried in a mass grave. Twenty-one years later, the German playwright's mortal remains were exhumed. Karl Leberecht Schwabe, the mayor of Weimar, decided that the largest of the 20-something skulls in the grave could have only belonged to Schiller.

For safe-keeping in his home, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe removed his confidant's skull from the library where his entire skeleton was displayed. Goethe later wrote the poem "Lines On Seeing Schiller's Skull."

In 1999 it was revealed that a group of scientists exhumed Goethe's skeleton to conserve it in November 1970, nearly 140 years after his death. The German polymath's skeleton also comes with paleopathological interest. Opinions on the source of Goethe's stiff gait and posture were qualified, proving ankylosis (stiffened or consolidated joints) in his spine due to loss of intervertebral discs, spondylosis deformans (degeneration of intervertebral discs), and Morbus Forestier (fusion of several vertebrae).

Busts commemorate. Whether or not the back story is commemorated in the skull piece pictured above doesn't matter for my liking. Norway-based artist Jens Stegger Ledaal carved into a ready-made bust of Goethe, revealing what we know would naturally lie beneath. Most skull pieces I've seen are standalones that never reference the face or entire head. They are sculpted or embellished, but in this case features are removed in order to create. Grim might be a characteristic that comes to mind, but clever and brainy wins out.

Résidence secondaire

Julien Berthier
2008

Let this be a cautionary tale of using limbs in art. When I was in art school, a classmate made a plaster cast of his open palms with a bird's nest delicately placed in the center. I was dying to say something; I liked the piece because I thought he was being cheeky, using hands that looked severed. He explained that the piece was about nurturing and protection... so the class, including myself, remained silent. I am all for both those things in life, but less in sculpture.

A couple of years later, Arrested Development made me feel better.


The natural association between viewer and art is a good quality, but limbs, severed ones especially, make it too didactic or hackneyed. Bones, while relatable, are less familiar. People go their whole lives without seeing their bones; it's safer to use them in art for this reason. They are mysterious.

The standalone skull is a common face (ha) in art. They come with their own cautionary history: Halloween, poison, and pirates are a few. Even Hamlet. These beg for reconciliation, which could explain their place in art. Maybe it's anthropological, bad-assy, easy to contrast, about the figure, the form, or a well-traveled bridge to science. At first I thought skulls in art was overdone, but my appreciation has grown because of the next few posts, beginning with Berthier's topiary.

Here, the skull isn't a mere object. Instead of a shrub in the shape of a squirrel or flower, the skull turns the homely art of tree sculpting against itself. The greenery is reminiscent of a welcome mat, but screams keep away. Seeing it so large, though, beckons because it is so funny.