We profiled some of Portuguese artist Joana Vasconcelos’ crochet-adorned ceramic animals previously. She also has a kennel’s worth of dogs in her body of work. These build on her process of appropriating and subverting pre-existing objects.
Joana Vasconcelos, Viriato, 2005. Photograph by Luis Vasconcelos.
The dogs, as with some of her other works, are mass produced ceramic forms, which can be found decorating a typical home. Many of these dogs are adorned with her signature crochet work, but she also uses these figures to a disturbing effect in a comment about the commodification of animals.
A comment from the National Museum of Women in the Arts about Viriato, one of the artist’s dogs:
“Named for a first-century leader in the area of present-day Portugal, Viriato comprises a commercially-made ceramic dog clad in elaborate needlework. The lacy covering masks the details of the sculpture beneath and also competes visually for our attention. By combining what is essentially a mass-produced lawn ornament with traditional crochet, Vasconcelos reveals the dissonance between handcrafted and manufactured. At the same time, she forces viewers to confront their preconceptions about “feminine” craft and domesticity.”
In 2010 Vasconcelos had a solo exhibition at Haunch of Venison in London, titled I Will Survive. Among her works on display was Passerelle (Catwalk), a disturbing conveyer belt in which ceramic dogs hung from leather collars (though noose could apply here as well). The placid expressions on these mass produced forms starts to look accusatory. Writing for White Hot Magazine, Giovanni Aloi describes the diabolic contraption:
“In Passerelle (Catwalk) Vasconcelos uses ornamental ceramic dogs in order to address multiple concerns about our relationship with animals. The ceramic dogs in question belong to the family of kitsch objects that in Europe can be purchased in gardening centres as well as at refreshment stores in gas stations. Upon entering the gallery space, these dogs become symbols of our relationship with pure bred canines, referencing the manufacturing of perfect forms. The dogs hang from a mechanical overhead conveyor summoning the chilling echo of slaughterhouse processes. The conveyor lies still until a viewer pushes a foot pedal connected to the structure; as the machine is activated, the ceramic bodies begin to swing and hit each other. Noise of crashing ceramic invades the space; some bodies shatter, creating a field of dead animal fragments and shards on the floor underneath. I can’t help but stand bemused in front of the result, puzzled by the divergence of the emotional responses that the vision provokes. What brings us to push the pedal? As the carousel stops, would we want to see more and push it again?”
In the hands of a gifted artist like Vasconcelos even a lawn ornament can embody several themes, as her kennel proves.
Any thoughts about this post? Share yours in the comment box below.
Joana Vasconcelos, Menta, 2013, faience dog and handmade cotton crochet, 77 x 32 x 43 cm. Courtesy Casa Triângulo, São Paulo. Click to see a larger image.
Joana Vasconcelos, Marron Glacé, 2012, faience dog and handmade cotton crochet, 77 x 32 x 43 cm. Courtesy Galerie Nathalie Obadia, Paris/Brussels. Click to see a larger image.
Joana Vasconcelos, Carlomagno, 2011, faience dog and handmade cotton crochet, 69 x 30 x 49 cm. Courtesy Galería Horrach Moyà, Palma de Mallorca. Click to see a larger image.
Joana Vasconcelos, Tristão, 2011, faience dog and handmade cotton crochet, 68 x 30 x 35 cm. Courtesy Galeria 111, Lisbon.
Joana Vasconcelos, Pinky, 2005, faience dog and handmade cotton crochet, 71 x 52 x 32 cm
Click to see a larger image.
Joana Vasconcelos, Von Trapp, 2008, faience dog and handmade cotton crochet, 72 x 54 x 42 cm. Courtesy Galería Horrach Moyà, Palma de Mallorca
These are brilliant. Visually exciting and conceptually intriguing in their play on materials and facture. How on earth were those crocheted body suits made to fit so snug? The best, for me, are the ones where you can see plenty of the dog colour underneath.
A good example, though, of word misrepresenting object. Is it really possible (or necessary) for art products to ‘subvert’ kitsch factory products in the 21st Century?
Do the dogs really reveal ‘the dissonance between handcrafted and manufactured’? I’m not feeling it. And as for forcing viewers to confront their preconceptions about “feminine” craft and domesticity. Come on – art writers should open up the work, rather than closing it down.
Conor, as always you are incisive.The mix of crochet and industrially made ceramic dogs may or may not have “dissonance” but there is some dialogue taking place between the custom fitting clothing and the banal objects it covers. Its a gift, maybe an act of love, if that is not too sentimental. I agree that “subvert” is used too often and particularly by artists who do not subvert anything. But whatever you call it, when using found kitsch objects one has to do something with them so that they become more than they begin as. Would “transform” or “re-contextualize” do the job? And as for feminine craft, Vasconcelos is a) a woman and b) has taken on a craft that has HUGE relevance in Portuguese culture as a activity for women. She speaks of it herself as such so we feel it is valid to raise the subject. Women still have a hard time getting real estate in leading galleries and a little activism helps. But I agree with you regarding the broader principle. Women-only shows that deal with the struggle in the 20th century are valid. But in the 21st century herding by gender seems to be a bogus proposition. Any writing recently? Keep breathing fire…Best Garth
Garth, agreed, indeed. It’s just those ‘off the shelf’ curatorial / critical phrases (not yours) that deal in vague, but over-reaching socio-political generalities and do nothing to unfold the actual objects.
Perhaps we should revisit Sontag’s ‘Against Interpretation’: “In place of a hermeneutics we need an erotics of art.”
Have been writing variously – I’ll send you some…
The banal becomes beautiful.