The Firebird: Two Pieces from 2007

Alright, it's getting a bit heavy. Shake it off, wiggle your arms, flex your toes. You might be reading this part first, in which case: hey guys! It's a barrel of laughs down here! For the rest of you: I apologize if this is looong or dryyyyy, but this is work I haven't looked at for years, and I'm getting a kick out of this new objectivity. This is maybe more of an exercise for me, rather than a formal interpretation for the public. But hang in there. OK, ready? We're going to talk more Firebird now.

So either consciously or subconsciously, the Firebird motif found its way into my work for a couple of years or so. It went through various incarnations--floating dragon-like creatures that saints would battle, floating microscopic creatures, and now back to birds (but not necessarily of the fire type). Here are two pieces: Two Hermits and the Fire Bird (right), and this (still) unnamed piece (left).

Both are mixed media, which you can't see in these images. In Two Hermits, the "firebird" is suspended by one of those motorized rotating Christmas ornament holders, and there are some mini battery-operated lights shining through the thicket at the base, when you close the box, and another set of lights held together with frosted glass and rubber bands at the back box. Also, a music box piece is mounted inside the back piece, so that it resonates in the metal box. In the untitled piece, there is sound (crusty recordings of Guangdong folk tunes) emitting from the tiny "sun"/speaker at the center. (Because of all of these elements, they're pretty high maintenance, have to be experienced by the individual, and are therefore not very sell-able.)

What unites the two pieces is the suspended golden, feathery object at the center. Now, I don't begin a piece with a concept (except in some notable instances), so the decision to make the suspended objects occurred as a result of decisions I made as circumstances presented themselves. In Two Hermits, the addition of the tin to the rear of the piece was the first decision, the balcony piece came second, the background image came next, and so on, until the firebird "appeared" last. The color choice is partly the result of wanting it to contrast from the rest of the imagery, partly to create a focal point, and once again (as in apparently many of my pieces), it comes to represent that glowing life force at the center of a piece. Of the untitled piece, background imagery and texture came first, assemblage objects on the panels came next, and the suspended piece last. It arrived there because the tall shape of the center panel seemed to warrant it, as well as the prominent sky, and it acted as an attempt to make the piece more three-dimensional. A flying creature just seemed right. I think it may have taken me a while to recognize its firebird-ness.

I really wish the Two Hermits themselves were more photogenic (but hey, they are hermits), so I'll have to describe ithem The background image is a print of a medieval painting of a crowd gathered around two men breaking bread. Doggone it, it's been so long, I should have documented what the painting was. But it's not the men that you seen in the piece: just two hands breaking bread in the center. To the left and right of the hands are two white "figures" made of metal bits, cheese cloth, thread, etc. (I was going through an anti-glue phase). And at the center is the twirling firebird. A kind of valence/balcony piece drapes over the three elements. I'm just emphasizing the suspended piece in this post, so a discussion of the ground panel, the thicket, or the texture of the exterior would be sort of irrelevant and way too long for right here. It's an invented mythology that I think is open to individual interpretation, so, sorry guys, you're on your own! But I will say, that like the Firebird in mythology, it tends to symbolize something magical and something desired. Something that you might try to touch, but it's just beyond your reach...

The untitled piece is tricky, which is why it's still untitled. It began, like I said, with the image. In art history class in high school I used to draw buildings in the margins my notebook paper, the lines of the paper making perfect lintels. Sometimes they were Greek, other times gothic. So I drew this background image in much the same haphazard way. I guess it's Byzantine (which is also why I use gold all over the place). Now some associations: the salt and pepper shaker is like a speaker, the sun. Are the strings attaching the piece? Or are they coming out of the holes? Squeezed out like a play-dough fun factory? Why would the thread (if it symbolizes light?) be black? It's a speaker, so does sound black rather than light? Or maybe it's being sucked in, so does the thread mean blackness is being sucked into the holes? Hmm. And the firebird lives in this environment...so what is the hierarchy? Usually the firebird is the most important thing there, but it's decidedly below the "sun". What does that mean for the sun? Just working through this, I'm seeing something really different from when I made it, some weird stuff. I don't know what you're seeing. As a sidenote the music is an alteration of a recording of "The Phoenix of Qi Mountain". (It's a composition from the 1950s that uses the myth of the phoenix of Qi Mountain to "express the feeling of happiness and peacefulness" [Su Wen Bing].)

So whew, those are two pieces. Like I said, I haven't looked at these for years. But these pieces are my most blatant uses of the firebird motif. Other pieces that I'll talk about later are not so blatant, and are much more subconscious. But maybe I'm not continually coming back to the firebird, but back to what it symbolizes. Whoa. Dude. Maybe I should go smoke another one.

One of these days, I'll discuss something a little lighter, more whimsical (ugh, I hate that word). But I can't promise anything concept-lighter. Is it getting too dry? Too serious? I'm new to this whole thing, so I'm still trying out my wings (I hate myself for saying that).