PAUL KRAINAK

Sculpture Magazine

Review of Andrew Ellis Johnson installation, "Spring: Let them keep their

children 3-4; tethered." Harlan Gallery, Seton Hill College, Greensburg, PA

 

 Andrew Ellis Johnson has gained a reputation for patching together traditionally

 irreconcilable languages of contemporary sculpture. He selectively juggles

 materiality, theatricality and topicality to immerse the viewer in

 paradox. With an eye for the irrational and tragic in politics, a

 passion for objects  and a droll sense of allegory he manipulates

 narrative from street corner anecdote  to autocratic proclamation, with

 critical intent,  but sometimes just for his own amusement.  Amusement is

 one of the dilemmas at the center of Johnson's newest installation titled

 "Spring: Let them keep their children tethered".  To be sure, its

 amusement deferred as the victimization  of children in over 60  war-torn

 nations has inspired the artist to address the issue of abandoned  land

 mines.

 

 Johnson has produced 10 4x8 ft, concrete slabs which are distributed

 uniformly across the gallery floor. On each piece he inscribed ten

 different hopscotch diagrams gathered from across the globe. A few contain

 numbered squares, some are assigned alphabetically, while others are

 completely blank, all variations of the ubiquitous grid that children

 gleefully navigate. Most are designed with simple rectangles and triangles

 but a couple are more complicated with circular or elliptical spaces laid

 out at the crown. Each gray 2 inch slab, etched with what could be a plan

 of a pre-teen's first lesson in  border skirmishes, are as stark and heavy

 as  minimalist dogma would have it, detailed only by an occasional

 rivulet  of stress fractures.  Scattered among these sarcophagi-like

 casts lay a collection of animal traps, partially embedded in the frozen

 aggregate.

 

 Each expectant trap has been painted with a benign pastel pigment, thereby

 providing its conceptual camouflage. If not closely inspected they pass

 as toys or oversized  bracelet charms. A background audio tape of

 exuberant children depicts absent prey. Viewers can easily imagine

 themselves or their children as participants in this drama of loss of innocence

and shunned responsibility.  But before one becomes too

wistful,  the sound of play is interrupted by the  echoing of  sprung steel traps.

 

 Johnson appears to have two ambitions with this work. One is to remind us

 that minefields remain a catastrophic reality for over 100,000 children a

 year and  as a result, many remain literally tethered to their homes.  The

 second is to suggest that the art gallery which modernism submits as a

free and neutral zone is also not  secure. The aesthetics of anonymity

 and autonomy feted in late modernism, the logic of post-colonial

 oppression and the indifference concerning  proliferation of arms  and

 legacies of years of so-called limited aggression in developing nations

 is conflated in these indifferent objects in this nice white gallery.

 The sculptor prods the history of reductivism with specific reference to

 Carl Andre and Donald Judd without rehashing conventional critiques of

 minimalism's descent into stylistic absolutism or for that matter

 specifically equating modernist form as dehumanizing. He is more

 interested here in lamenting how easily history and meaning can be

 disassociated.  Johnson's work is in fact about disclosure rather than

 closure. He asserts that radical formal and conceptual gestures need not

 be bereft of conscience.

 

 

The viewer has to rely on ordinary experience to assess what's left after

 the transgressing of familiar art conventions and tropes. These

 dramatizations of real politics with which he bathes the art object are

 remarkable and psychologically agonizing.  And given the weightlessness of

 much popular installation art, that is, their seeming indifference  to the

 conceptual framework of the monument from which sculpture emerged, they

 are profoundly allegorical.  Notwithstanding Rosalyn Krause's pivotal

 essay articulating modern sculpture's antagonism to the pedestal and the

 monument, a residue of commemoration has remained at the core of

 sculpture, now paying homage to actual experiences, ordinary speech and

 underrepresented communities. Andrew Ellis Johnson resuscitates codes gleaned

 from the history of an acadamized avant-gardism by  grounding them in real

 politics and subsequently exposes some of the traps inherent in the

 ideology of the artworld/real world divide.

1