MIke Stifel, Strange Attractors
(details), 2000
Philadelphia Introductions:
Mike Stifel
by
Andrea Kirsh
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Philadelphia Introductions:
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Mike Stifel is a tinkerer with a broad interest in materials and the physical laws that underlie them. He grew up working on cars and motorcycles. I don’t mean to imply that he is casual about craftsmanship; quite the opposite. Perhaps the most consistent thing about his very diverse body of work is the elegant finish he achieves, whether working with machine-tooled metal, hand-carved wood, pre-cut oil-impregnated nylon, or pastel drawings. The early sculptures were in wood, entirely worked by hand, and were explorations of the possibilities of the material. Stifel had studied various traditional techniques of log building, boat and furniture construction and Native American methods of handling wood. Later he added industrial materials and for a while made pieces that suggested functionality. The next step was a series of pieces that actually functioned, although not at anything practical or useful. Most of these working pieces performed repetitive activities by means of pumps, manual or electrical power, such as the hammer in BFH (2006) that repeatedly strikes a small anvil by means of a trip-hammer, or the miniature scull with multiple sets of mechanically-driven oars. These were less elaborate than Rube Goldberg’s, but shared his use of technology to perform simple tasks and the visibility of the apparatus. As with Rube Goldberg’s drawings, the use of technology for tasks more easily accomplished by hand is a source of humor, but the technology itself is also a source of delight. And because of the fine craftsmanship, the mechanisms are always beautiful in themselves. When he told me that he’d like to be able to make a life-sized, mechanically-driven scull, I realized the parallels with the work of Chris Burden who has made elaborate cities and bridges in miniature but has also made life-size pieces that function via home-made engineering (a car, a boat, a model of an early television system). While Burden’s home-built machines emphasize self-sufficiency and critique industrial power, Stifel’s more obviously reflect an artist’s license to play and freedom to ask “what if...?” Stifel has also made work that functions less transparently than the mechanical pieces, but produces more visually poetic results. Strange Attractors (2000) began with objects that appeared to be randomly set out on the floor: three one-gallon jugs, each containing a yellow liquid; out of each spilled a tube that attached to what looked like an electrical switch box or transformer, with an electrical cord attached to the other end of each box. Then slowly, very slowly, fine bubbles began to spill from the mouths of the jugs until each was more or less obscured by a lumpy pile of bubbles. Then, just as slowly, the surfaces of the bubble piles became smoother and less lumpy and eventually the bubbles dissipated. The entire cycle took about two hours; the pace was slow enough that a viewer had to make a time commitment even to perceive the action. The image on Stifel’s computer screen when I visited his studio was a photograph from a bubble chamber which physicists used to track the trajectories of subatomic particles. He was fascinated by the forms and has used the imagery as the basis for a series of embossed prints. Physicists now use computers for these studies and Stifel has used that imagery as well, and has also based drawings on the vapor trails left by airplanes in the sky. Which brings up his drawings. He showed me a drawer full of exquisite pastels, all in black on white paper; the group, titled “Radiant Doors,” has never been exhibited. Each sheet contained either one or two forms. These had fine, sharp outlines that defined their very attenuated rectangular shape. In the middle of each long rectangle Stifel had drawn with black pastel which he worked with his fingers, so the black area had very soft but uneven edges. The drawing sequence was a study in proportion and negative space using very restricted means, and the sense of balance was very assured. The fineness of the workmanship and the velvety quality of the black drawing made them something more than formal exercises. In one of them with two long, vertical forms, the drawing hinted at the twin towers of the World Trade Center; I assume this was an accidental association. 201 Gallery had a solo exhibition of Stifel’s
work this past June. It revealed a sculptor with a beautiful sense of
form, meticulous craftsmanship, knowledge of sculptural precedent and
an interest in a wide range of materials. Several works were in wood,
mostly wall pieces but one sat on the floor where the elegant arc of its
long narrow form was supported by four crosspieces of lighter-toned wood.
It was entirely abstract yet evoked memories of Viking ships, and its
surface was so finely-finished that it begged to be touched. Another narrow,
elongated wooden piece, this one stained black, hung vertically on the
wall like a warrior’s spear; the form thickened at the center and
tapered at the ends which lifted slightly off the wall. Other pieces of
combined materials hung on the walls: wood with copper wire or plastic
hosing or with flat, pendant pieces of rubber (these last showing a clear
debt to Eva Hesse). Two further works sat on the floor: one had coiling
forms in metal, the other was a small, multi-part work made of rounds
of cream-colored. oil-impregnated nylon. Two discus-shaped forms had been
cut in half, and each half was pierced by pieces of thick dowel of the
same material but colored green. The pieces have no fixed arrangement
and looked like something between enlarged children’s toys and left-over
parts of some high-tech equipment. Back to InLiquid's Commentary section index © 2007 Andrea Kirsh and InLiquid.com; images copyright © Mike Stifel |