spiriting: life in wyoming with the gingerbread man
TRANSCRIPT
Leonardo
Spiriting: Life in Wyoming with the Gingerbread ManAuthor(s): Jessica HoltSource: Leonardo, Vol. 30, No. 3 (1997), p. 193Published by: The MIT PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1576447 .
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Fig. 4. Jessica Holt, the steel Gingerbread Man Scribing Machine, a sculpture/performance- based machine tool, accompanies the artist on a walk. (Photo: Cynthia R. Holt)
SPIRITING: LIFE IN WYOMING WITH THE GINGERBREAD MAN
Jessica Holt, 1162 Pass Creek Road, Parkman, WY 82838, U.S.A. E-mail:
Physical space is the space of the steel
Gingerbread Man and my dogs and my body, objectively experienced, and the
physical event of moving us together in ritual. It is the space of my body as the determinant of my existence in the world. It is the space of my sense, of the
feelings I feel when I interact with the
Gingerbread Man and the dogs and the earth. It is me, bigger than the dogs, smaller than the Gingerbread Man, in-
finitely smaller than the land. It is the land close and the land far away. It is a
quiet and a noisy space. It is a space that smells of winds and of the earth.
Physical space is the space of primary perception. My artwork recounts a di- rect experience with a specific physical space, using technology (my invented machines), physiology (my body), ani- mal science (my dogs) and natural sci- ence (the Wyoming foothills) to define that space. I have invented a series of machine tools, which, through their
symbolism as matrix and through their unessential but concrete functions-in- cluding measuring, casting shadows and marking ground-exhibit a direct
relationship with physical space. These machines include: the Harmonic Mono- gram Scribing Machine, 1986; Epicycloid
Scribing Machine, 1990; Gingerbread Man
Scribing Machine, 1992; Angel Cookie Cut- ter Machine, 1993; Ground Squirrel Survey- ors Square, 1993; Sheep Path Sounding Ma- chine, 1996; Pocket Gopher Tunnel Digging Machine, 1996. These machines set up illusory, symbolic and real boundaries, which change as the machines are moved or as they are used for different functions, with different media (mold to hold grass clippings, frame for a raw- hide coat, scriber to mark metal, digger to mimic a gopher). Thus, repetitive use of these archetypal machines does not produce like products. Each prod- uct is unique and possesses subjective, unmeasurable elements and objective, measurable elements. Each product presents itself as that place of interac- tion between physical space and virtual
space, a place momentarily in some kind of balance [1].
The Gingerbread Man Scribing Machine, a 5/2-x-8-ft-x-21/2-in oversized steel cookie cutter (Fig. 4) is the first ma- chine I have used in an interactive man- ner as a "companionable form," record-
ing its movements in various environments, including my walks with it in the hills. This machine has several
distinguishing features: a set of sharp wheels for work, for dry ground and flat surfaces, made of `-in-thick steel
plate, 2 ft in diameter, attached by a
clip on the axle; a set of bright, red and
shiny rubber wheels for play, for soft or
hilly ground, 1/2 ft in diameter, at- tached by a clip on the axle; a 7-ft-long pole that slides through two steel loops
attached to the body, providing a pull- ing arm; a hollow body made of %/-in- thick steel plate and boasting a 3-in
rectangular loop on its belly that allows the body to be picked up by a fork lift; and a tripod to hold the toting arm, providing a home for it when the ma- chine is at rest.To date, the Gingerbread Man Scribing Machine has participated in many random events, but only one
regular event-the walks with me and
my dogs in the foothills near our home.
Beginning a walk with the work wheels, I lift the toting arm off the tripod and
pull forward, moving slowly at first, turning the body off the gravel and onto the grass. We leave trail marks in the gravel as we move. Entering the
grass, our presence seems willful; the
grass is high and our intrusion there bends large groups of stems first one
way and then the next. We break path and roll along, close to the earth. Care is given to the degree of incline; we use it as our guide, preventing the weight of the form from leading too fast down the hill. We work together-the gravity of the earth, the place of the hill, the
weight of the machine, the strength of
my body, the movement of the dogs. The borders meld: movement in one causes concurrent movement in an- other. It is a symbiotic and empathetic relationship. We play to each other. We slow down when Mebbie, the Bernese, has a sit-down strike. We speed up when Zack, a beautiful, fleeting German
Shephard/Collie mix, is too far afield, out of sight. And when the walk gets long and steep for Andy, smallest and eldest of the three, we look for smooth
ground and a place to change the wheels.
Like the machines before it, and those that have come after, the Ginger- bread Man Scribing Machine is a motif and a mediator for my subjective life, carrying the story of the spaces I live in and the things and animals and people in those spaces. Such machines become
poetic devices. Use of the machines in real physical space, in a ritual sense, sets up a myth, repeating a story over and over, offering the possibility of liv-
ing a reality where our subconscious selves can have flight.
Note
1. See R. Williams andJ. Boyd, Ritual Art and Knowledge (South Carolina: Univ. of South Caro- lina Press, 1993) for a discussion of physical mean- ing in virtual space.
Words on Works 193
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