Jean Kondo Weigl, Untitled, 1974, Gouache collage, Art Rental Collection Fund RC 1974.3.Elka Lee-Sha
Jean Kondo Weigl, Untitled, 1974, Gouache collage, Art Rental Collection Fund RC 1974.3.Elka Lee-Shapiro ‘18, former curatorial assistant in Asian art, conducted this interview with artist Jean Kondo Weigl in July of 2018 as part of her exhibition, Centripetal/Centrifugal: Calibrating an Asian American Art.On March 12th at 3:00 p.m., Lee-Shapiro will return to Oberlin to give a Tuesday Tea lecture on the exhibition. For more information, visit the event page on the Allen’s Facebook. EL: I was thinking that we could start by talking about the work we have of yours in the AMAM’s collection. It was created in 1974 and you mentioned that you were working with hard-edge abstraction at the time.JKW: Right, after completing the MA program in Studio Art at Oberlin I was working as Assistant to the curators at the Allen Art Museum. At the time, Abstract Expressionism, Minimalism, Conceptualism and Pop art were primary avenues in the New York art scene. I had studied those movements as an undergraduate in a contemporary art seminar at Scripps College while also taking classes in figure drawing and painting, and wanted to explore acrylics and non-figurative or formal compositions, probably influenced by artists such as Frank Stella. I’m not sure if I was aware of Sol LeWitt at that point, but there were a lot of artists, painters, and printmakers working with the grid format. I chose to use the format of the grid in this work because of the regularity and the rationality of the grid, which could be juxtaposed with something else—something freer, looser, more subjective, more organic – while still retaining the organized structure of the grid. I experimented with some loosely conceptualist formats where I might, for instance, devise a sequential order for what was going to go in each unit of the grid, and so on. EL: The work we have in the Allen’s collection has a repeated pattern like that… is that where that idea comes from? JKW: Yes, I began with an abstract design painted in gouache on paper that I cut up into sixty equal squares. Next, I cut the squares, four at a time, into curved strips, which I then recombined to form new squares that I then arranged in the final composition. I couldn’t have foreseen or visualized the end product of my process the first time I tried it, and was surprised to find the resulting sense of rhythmic movement, advancing and receding space and lively qualities of color and light to be so effective. You never know what’s going to happen when you try out an idea. EL: What was it like doing this type of work in Oberlin, because a lot of the discourse surrounding formalist painting was rooted in New York City? How was it being in Oberlin engaging with these types of investigations surrounding painting? JKW: Becoming interested in a more formalist approach to painting was a natural response to the influences I encountered at Oberlin as a graduate student and as a member of the staff at the AMAM. Ellen Johnson, Professor of Modern Art, and Athena Tacha, Curator of Art since 1800, were powerful forces in promoting current trends in art from New York in Oberlin through their scholarship and involvement with regard to the museum’s acquisitions, exhibitions and visiting artists program. Also, as a Graduate Assistant, I worked under Forbes Whiteside, Professor of Painting, assisting in his painting and color theory classes. In Mr. Whiteside’s color theory class, I learned a lot about color relationships and color interaction, and wanted to explore some of the ideas that I was learning in my own work. I think that’s what pushed me towards nonobjective imagery, so that I could focus on color schemes and variations on the different characteristics of color. I probably know one hundredth of one thousandth of what there is to know about color theory, but I can get deeply engaged with what little I know, experimenting with all the different possibilities and variations. EL: You mentioned the idea of objective and subjective painting in relation to the grid. I was wondering if you could talk a little bit more about that, especially because your recent work does incorporate more narrative or figural elements. JKW: I’m really equally interested in formalism and narrative or figurative art, and equally emotionally moved by both. Even with narrative art, the story is definitely part of what I respond to, but a large part of what I respond to are the formal elements of the work—the paint, color, and surface—and the power and skill of the artists. I remember before I ever cried to a painting, the only kind of art that I would respond to emotionally would be film or music—I can easily cry when I see a sentimental commercial on television—but I was never moved to tears by a painting until I saw a Pierre Bonnard painting. It was a small landscape of a spring day and I was overwhelmed. I don’t know how you identify the core idea of a single work of art or a body of works of art when there are multiple elements that are constant throughout. The meaning of a work has a little bit to do with the imagery and a whole lot to do with the composition and the treatment of form—but you can’t have the imagery without that. So, you can’t separate them. EL: We touched on this a little bit but I was wondering if you could talk a little bit more about how your personal background influences your work, and whether biographical or politicized identity comes into your work? JKW: Well, how can we separate one’s background and identity from one’s work, either? That’s another thing, right? You are what you are. I am what I am because of my background. So, it’s impossible to ignore it, but I don’t think you have to worry about making it clear, because it is clear. It just comes out anyway. Everything that’s influenced me as an artist is because of my background.I’m probably drawn to Asian art and the history of Asian art for that reason. I might not have taken courses in the history of Japanese art at the University of Utah, but in a way I felt obligated to know more about it. I might have been interested in Asian art as an undergraduate but it’s my memory that, at that time, we didn’t have a lot of exposure to Asian or other non-Western art history; it wasn’t automatically built in to your art education. For example, I knew that I liked ukiyo-e, but the topic of 19th century Japanese art was mainly touched upon in the context of its influence on 19th century French art. Today, if I get stuck in the process of sketching or painting, one source that I may turn to for direction is 19th century Japanese art. I really relate to that period as did many 19th century artists in Europe who were being exposed for the first time to a lot of Japanese and Chinese art. EL: Do you think of the Asian influences in your work as relating to your personal identity? JKW: Sure, not consciously, just automatically. EL: Thinking about your identity, would you identify as say, an Asian American artist, or a woman artist, and does that play into your work at all? JKW: Asian American over woman artist? EL: Or Asian American woman artist… I guess in terms of these labels. JKW: That’s an appropriate question because the women’s movement was in full bloom in the seventies which is when I was at Oberlin working on as master’s degree and coming of age as an artist. Oberlin’s master’s program required a written thesis and an exhibition, and I wrote my thesis on the women’s movement in art. I was reading Linda Nochlin, Simone de Beauvoir, Shulamith Firestone, Judy Chicago, and anyone I could find who wrote about the role of women as artists or the image of women in art. I joined the women’s caucus of the College Art Association and participated in a couple of their collaborative projects. They organized a book project and a box project, and my work was included in their traveling shows. But I don’t put gender at the front of how I identify myself as an artist. And the Japanese part, well, both the Japanese and the female parts were given to me, but I don’t necessarily feel that I put myself in either category, as much as lot of other people need to or choose to. I’m aware of my race and gender on a certain level. My race and gender are important aspects of my identity, but my identity and how it plays into my work is more just individual—having to do with my personal experience and relationships. One key to how I identify as an Asian American woman artist may be how I identify with other Asian American women artists; if it’s difficult for me to relate to another Asian American woman artist on some level of aesthetics or politics, I think it would be difficult for me to put myself under the same label as her. On the other hand, I would probably relate more completely to an Asian American woman artist, compared to a non-Asian, non-American, male artist, if her art and politics were aligned with mine. EL: We probably have time for maybe one more question. I’d love to hear more about your approach to teaching and what teaching is like for you. JKW: I don’t think of myself as being really articulate or able to explain some more complex issues or concepts in a particularly clear or elegant way, but sometimes in the classroom I find myself getting really excited and at no loss for words. Especially when I’m talking about the process and how it’s important to let go and not be afraid—I’m trying to encourage students to let go, loosen up, and not worry about whether their assignments are going to be successful. I work very hard to be the best teacher, but some students stand out as being so talented, perceptive and intuitive that I can only step back and admire them, deserving little credit for their achievement. -- source link