BUSTed

Sometimes when looking at Greek and Roman busts I have found their stillness and sobriety unnerving. Like standing on the edge of a sheer drop and feeling the urge to jump off, I have often wanted to punch or exert some kind of aggression onto these sculptures that look flawlessly human but are inhumanly still. I am sometimes waiting for one to twitch, of course I know it will not. And then I wonder what one of these busts would look like with a massive crater in its face where it had been punched, as a way to disturb this sea of calm? What if we could see more than just a scar or bruise left on a person's body after they were attacked? What if instead, we could see the impact of that punch or slap as a permanent recess on the body? I wanted to consider the damage we inflict on our own and other bodies as permanent marks not just a fading scar. Having never punched any one before I was also interested to know the physical impact of what throwing a punch would have on my own body.

I have been living in Germany this term and for (almost) everyone, being away from home for an extended amount of time can make you miss the ones you love - like your friends and family. So when I decided to use my Dad as the subject of this bust project, the reasons were as much about his absence and recreating his presence as a comment on my relationship with him.

When I told my friend Luna about the project and she looked at the photographs that my Dad had sent me of himself, she said something along the lines of 'aww.. you miss your Father so much that you have decided to sculpt him' (the comment was a lot less patronising then it reads). Which is true to an extent and so defacing the finished bust would signify the frustration and realisation of never being able to bring an inanimate object to life, no matter how realistic a resemblance it may have to something living. My thought at that moment was: "Missing something or someone and the impossibility of its/their presence." 

As well as knowing right from the start that the finished bust would be defaced, I also knew that I wanted to document the entire process of making the sculpture, from the first blob of clay to the final blow. I knew that I would document this process by filming it. I wanted to record working for long periods of time in solitude, the labour intensive nature of making a piece of 'Art'. The bust would also be an endurance piece, hours and hours of trying to create the most naturalistic reproduction of someone's head. The filming from each day, as well as observing the evolution of the bust, would observe me and the swing in my moods and emotions whilst I was working. For this reason, I am treating the 16-hour film of the entire creative process of making the bust as the documentation of a private performance piece. 

While sculpting, I did a lot of thinking too since it is inevitable when you are alone for hours and working with you hands and eyes, but not your head. Of course I thought about my Dad, so it is fair to say that the attack on his bust could be a comment on my feelings towards him and our relationship. However, this reading of the piece may only be relevant if you recognise that bust as my Dad's, or if you know my him and me and our relationship. To anyone who does not, the video tells the story of a frustrated art student who is not happy/satisfied with her work (sound familiar?). This case leads me to a final reading of the piece, one which looks at it within a wider context. 

I think it was the fifth day which I found particularly enduring. While looking at the bust, I could not help but see all the inaccuracies and how much it did not look like my dad at all. It was one of the days when you ask yourself 'will this ever be finished?' and 'why am I doing this again?'. (The million dollar question) Why do we make Art? It got me thinking about why busts are made or were made in the past- to commemorate or immortalise a figure in society perhaps? That is particularly the case for the Roman and Greek busts that triggered the idea for this piece in the first place. Regardless, the point I want to stress is that they were commissioned. They were not the vision of the artist but the vision of a society and its Ruler. AND IS THIS ART? Being an art student in this day and age, I can not help but feel compelled to answer this question with a NO!


NO! NO! no! NO! no! NO! noooooooooo! NO! NO!NO! no! for the millionth time NO! I am so NO! and against this outdated notion of art that I  will make a anatomical study of my father's bust in the style of a Roman Emperor and then destroy it. And call THAT art.
 
Later, when I was discussing the defaced bust with my Mum on Skype, I asked her whether she thought I had ruined it. She said no, but that she could understand why other people would think I had. I had partially distorted something that before had held such a likeness to its subject. I appreciate this, but to me it is the appropriation of tradition into a current and my own personal context, the mark of human impulse, and suggestion of human emotion which makes this piece defined as "Art"(and relevant) and therefore not just an anatomical study.

Finally, I remember right before attacking the bust, as I worked the finishing touches, it dawned on me how hard the clay had become. I realised that my punches may not be strong enough to create the dramatically misshapen face I had initially envisaged- an avalanche of its features. Sure enough this was the case and the marks of my fists were small dents, more like ripples of water than the thrashing waves of clay I had hoped for. Such small marks in comparison to the energy I had exerted to make them- my hands were shaking, the joint on my middle finger was cut and my knuckles were bruised for days afterwards. Through creative endurance I had made a durable piece of art. This reminded me of the relationships we have with the people we love and in the end, how strong that love can be.