Joseph Cornell: Navigating the Imagination
SFMoMA
San Francisco, CA

6 Oct 2007 - 6 Jan 2008

by Tonya Warner

Born in 1903, Joseph Cornell was known as a man who obsessively collected and catalogued materials, making note of everything he felt or experienced.   These objects and pieces of paper would then appear, re-ordered and re-contextualized in boxes and on sheets, as intriguing yet puzzling microcosmos.   These compositions were the end products of his intense scrutiny and evaluation of the world around him as well as the workings of his own mind.   He was also fascinated with the idea of traveling, voyaging without leaving one's home - found in antique maps, and the mental journeys of reading books - emphasizing his concentration on the inner realm.   Although loosely grouped with the surrealists by the annuls of art history, Cornell shied away from the term and worked not as a part of some kind of coherent movement, but within a world of his own making.  

Having the knowledge that Cornell was somewhat of a recluse and a dreamer, however, can become a trap of reading his creations as products of the solitary creative genius, struggling away in isolation, becoming more and more insular and self-referential.   To a small extent, one could see the validity to this idea, however, one need only look to the "Goop Joe's Poultry Pages" he created for his sister and her husband, themselves chicken farmers.   These spoofs on farmers almanacs have an easy social tone and silly humor, providing a ready counterpoint to the idea of the tortured artist.   Interpreting Cornell's work simply in terms of what little one might know about him as a person is both problematic and hard to avoid.   These collages come across as very personal - in their references, source materials, and hidden meanings.   Then one must ask, "Are there actually messages encoded within these boxes, written in cut out paper, toys, and wire?"

Something that is often overlooked while examining Cornell's works with a modern eye is how, at the time of their creations, not all of the materials seemed so old or foreign.   Today, his constructions look otherworldly and antique when, in fact, Cornell was a fan of popular culture and the common or everyday.   Mixing references to movie stars, famous ballerinas, Houdini, penny arcades, and others, with bits of cultural and art history, he was reflecting his personal relationship with modern society.   The way that he has chosen to assemble these compositions, however, belie a sort of dreamy, idealized view of culture and history - from fairytale settings to obsessive shrines to Greta Garbo and Lauren Bacall, these works hold a certain magical complexity.

Joseph Cornell created the kind of art that makes you want to get up close and mull over the details - his microcosms can induce a "forest for the trees" effect - you fall right in.   This is partially due to the seeming genuineness, obsession, and care that has gone into every box.   In a way, it is somewhat overwhelming to see so many of his works all in one place; it is impossible to give every piece the time and consideration each seems to demand.   An overarching exhibit like this really condenses time, yet it also allows one to see both the variety and repetition of themes and their development.

Organized according to certain broad ideas, this exhibition attempts to categorize the vast array of Cornell's extensive output.   This is a concept which seems to fit well with his working methods; however, with the incarnation of this show that I also saw in Washington D.C. last January, there was too much of an emphasis on the man as genius.   The Smithsonian American Art Museum felt the need to include materials that might have provided inspiration for the artist, as well as a glass walled "recreation" of his studio, complete with Cornell's hand labeled boxes used for cataloging source material.   Indeed, there seems to be the idea that anything he touched could be considered art.   At the SFMoMA, however, this hokiness was thankfully reduced to a single quiet vitrine with a few of a boxes and tools from his studio (better, bit still unnecessary in my opinion).   Never-the-less, the show is impressively extensive and, having seen two versions of it, I was glad to be given the chance to reexamine these works.   No one person can fully decode or unpack the parade of references in these pieces, which, in a way gives the boxes some of their intriguing mystique.   Indeed, upon multiple viewings, Cornell's constructions do not lose any of their whimsical magic or charm.

http://sfmoma.org/exhibitions/exhib_detail.asp?id=264

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