Vogue, 1939
◐ no ◑ rush ● ◐ no ◑ rush ● ◐ no ◑ rush ● 

another fresh ​​​​​​ ​​​​♬ playlist  ​​​​​​ ​​​​♬ featuring 
+ ILOVEMakonnen  
+ MIGUEL +++++++ xy3:

Pia Howell

Heidi Norton
via i like this art:
Heidi Norton: For years, I spent days upon days rushing to my studio to water the plants, to save them from decay. I became anxiety-ridden. Saving them was significant, but keeping them “green” was essential. I enjoyed juxtaposing the green colors of “life” against other colors of nature (light, water, and minerals) and those of modernity, like synthetic pinks, blacks and whites. In 2011 I began making sculptures of large domestic tropical plants literally pressed against panes of glass and adhered with resin. The resin had an utilitarian purpose, but it also referenced herbariums, pressed flowers/plants, as well as paintings, and most importantly for me, photographs. Green leaves smashed against the glass with the resin formed pockets of air, connoting plants being pressed under a slide. I made these pieces for a while, but at times the dimensionality of the plant did not lend itself to the complete resin encasement. Additionally, they were becoming too flat. I appreciated the flatness on the glass side, but I also enjoyed the explosiveness of the other side. With this explosiveness of life ultimately came death.
The brown and yellow color of decay was initially something that seemed in contrast to the voice of my work at the time. I wasn’t interested in dead plants or in killing plants for art. However, this act was inescapable, and I realized my work was more intellectually dimensional when it presented life, regeneration, and death. Cycles of ecology, symbiosis, and the interdependence of nature became more prominent in my work and process, culminating in late 2012 when I mounted a show at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago.
I feel plants have been long reduced to objects of consumption—whether for eating, gazing upon, gardening, etcetera. Plants are thought of as passive, things that merely sit there and absorb sunlight and grow and then die. Perhaps I am over simplifying, but the fact remains that people who can’t care for people or animals are told to get a plant. Much of what they do goes unseen; their perceived “stillness” objectifies them. My job as an artist is to point at the issues, to expose them, and provoke questions. Unlike a scientist, I do not work within set parameters, and I am not looking for empirical answers. My work uses plants to speak to instability and liminality.
I often feel confused and anxious about my work. The sacrificing of a plant makes me uncomfortable. The initial point of contact the plant has with the toxic substance or heat jars me. Am I setting myself up for failure? Utopia and the desire to commune with nature will never happen. When pressed on the glass or frozen in a photo, active looking occurs. There is an exchange of energy between the objects and the viewer: a kind of Bewegung, or channeling of organic energy that points at the unseen elements, systems, and forces of the natural environment upon and all around us. This anxiety drives me to make. I like being confused and uncomfortable.
I am deeply interested in plants, and gaining a better understanding of them and sharing that with the viewer. But ultimately the plants are analogues to larger concepts of ecology, life, growth, change and death. Highlighting or displaying their mutability [the quality of being capable of mutation] makes it palpable for the viewer. It is a slow, beautiful death that twists and turns in unpredictable directions. These works become representational samples of the physical laws of ecology. As Hans Haccke wrote in 1968,
“A “sculpture” that physically reacts to its environment is no longer to be regarded as an object. The range of outside factors affecting it, as well as its own radius of action, reach beyond the space it materially occupies. It thus merges with the environment in a relationship that is better understood as a “system” of interdependent processes. These processes evolve without the viewer’s empathy. He becomes a witness. A system is not imagined, it is real.”1
Regarding the second question: When we preserve things, we arrest growth and age. In the case of the latex plant, the toxicity of the material in contact with the plant material caused those parts of the plant to die. Perhaps the new sprout was fed from anabolic energies produced by the dead parts. The growth is not disrupting the preservation but instead is highlighting it, accentuating it. Part of the metamorphosis of the plant is the entropic processes at work during the evolution of the plant. The ultimate preservation of life is something that is never attainable. These are futile attempts to preserve time. The introduction of the resin, latex paint, or wax material to the plant marks a moment in which the plant is displaced; toxic material meets with the natural, paralyzing and interrupting growth. That moment of arrest occurs in a fraction of a second. This is similar to pushing the button of the shutter and capturing a fraction of time. There the plant is frozen in a state, escaping time. With the sculptures, the material attempts to stop time, and therefore growth. Regeneration may occur but death is inevitable.
- BOMB Magazine, Heidi Norton and Michael Marder interviewed by Monica Westinand
1Haacke, Hans (with statement by) (January 1968) Hans Haacke, exhibition catalog (New York: Howard Wise Gallery).

Everything collapses sooner or later
collaboration with Rio Grande

© IOIA. cocaine-nd-caviar: Nicki Minaj /// cover story THE FADER

The FADER #93, Fall Fashion, August/September 2014. 
Featuring Nicki Minaj, Porter Robinson and more.