"The Grasshopper and the Ant and the Dove” by Jeremiah Ibarra
The Ticker and a Toddler Bite is an exhibition of sculptures by Jeremiah Ibarra, all made from different found objects on view currently at the UNO Gallery. The physical construction and grouping of these pieces is myriad. Objects are stacked, nailed, clamped, hung, drawn, painted, and sawed together. These pieces run the gambit in the ways in which they present themselves to us. They can be delightfully precarious ( as in the piece “Filbert and Solo Dog Fight”) to visually dense and ruthlessly organized ( as in “The Grasshopper And the Ant and the Dove”). From scratched vinyl lettering, to discarded styrofoam, to charmingly awkward ceramics, the objects that make up The Ticker and a Toddler Bite are often ordinary and discardable on an individual level and yet are distinctly singular in their organization. What at first feels like a haphazard chaotic assemblage often leads us to small careful details that belie a quieter structure and clarity. The real power and joy in experiencing this show is the way in which certain materials take on a chameleon-like character; moving from piece to piece, disguising or exposing their idiosyncratic nature depending on what each sculpture demands of it. The ease at which these materials transform in front of our very eyes would be unsettling if it wasn’t so exciting. Ibarra reuses many materials again and again often with surprising and delightful effect.
The Ticker and a Toddler Bite is an exhibition of sculptures by Jeremiah Ibarra, all made from different found objects on view currently at the UNO Gallery. The physical construction and grouping of these pieces is myriad. Objects are stacked, nailed, clamped, hung, drawn, painted, and sawed together. These pieces run the gambit in the ways in which they present themselves to us. They can be delightfully precarious ( as in the piece “Filbert and Solo Dog Fight”) to visually dense and ruthlessly organized ( as in “The Grasshopper And the Ant and the Dove”). From scratched vinyl lettering, to discarded styrofoam, to charmingly awkward ceramics, the objects that make up The Ticker and a Toddler Bite are often ordinary and discardable on an individual level and yet are distinctly singular in their organization. What at first feels like a haphazard chaotic assemblage often leads us to small careful details that belie a quieter structure and clarity. The real power and joy in experiencing this show is the way in which certain materials take on a chameleon-like character; moving from piece to piece, disguising or exposing their idiosyncratic nature depending on what each sculpture demands of it. The ease at which these materials transform in front of our very eyes would be unsettling if it wasn’t so exciting. Ibarra reuses many materials again and again often with surprising and delightful effect.
"The Ticker and a Toddler Bite"
“The Ticker and a Toddler Bite”
Take the piece “The Ticker and a Toddler Bite” which takes center stage in the first of two rooms and doubles as the exhibition’s title. Made primarily from reclaimed wood in a variety of different states, this piece is not nearly as visually dense or materially rich as other pieces in the exhibition. But its intrigue exists in a type of powerful limbo between different possible explanations or functions for the sculpture these materials create. Viewed from across the room, With its rocking legs and lip ledged table top, “The Ticker” brings to mind an aesthetically sparse, slightly demented baby’s crib, precariously assembled with anxiety inducing effect. The sculpture’s title would lead us towards this reading and a piece of white painted wood, crudely cut into a shape of a cloud, somehow denotes that we are in the land of childlike belief. And yet, seen from close up, this piece no longer feels like a crib as much as it does some strange table game. The crudely cut cloud now functions as a divider of a surface court, the way a net divides a ping pong table. On each side of the wooden cloud divider rests an intricate carved ball and some decorative circular wooden object. The white paint of the table top is scratched away at parts presumably from the rolling of this ball and object. It’s now that we notice, attached to one of the table’s leg, a meticulously taped pool cue like stick.
Take the piece “The Ticker and a Toddler Bite” which takes center stage in the first of two rooms and doubles as the exhibition’s title. Made primarily from reclaimed wood in a variety of different states, this piece is not nearly as visually dense or materially rich as other pieces in the exhibition. But its intrigue exists in a type of powerful limbo between different possible explanations or functions for the sculpture these materials create. Viewed from across the room, With its rocking legs and lip ledged table top, “The Ticker” brings to mind an aesthetically sparse, slightly demented baby’s crib, precariously assembled with anxiety inducing effect. The sculpture’s title would lead us towards this reading and a piece of white painted wood, crudely cut into a shape of a cloud, somehow denotes that we are in the land of childlike belief. And yet, seen from close up, this piece no longer feels like a crib as much as it does some strange table game. The crudely cut cloud now functions as a divider of a surface court, the way a net divides a ping pong table. On each side of the wooden cloud divider rests an intricate carved ball and some decorative circular wooden object. The white paint of the table top is scratched away at parts presumably from the rolling of this ball and object. It’s now that we notice, attached to one of the table’s leg, a meticulously taped pool cue like stick.
“The Ticker and a Toddler Bite” Detail
So how are we supposed to make sense of “The Ticker” ? Is it a crib or a table game? As soon as our mind begins reaching for some functional explanation of this sculpture, it runs into a different potential reality. Certain objects become charged with multiple functions and meanings. The white painted wood, crudely cut into a shape of clouds becomes a litmus test for different possible explanations.
So how are we supposed to make sense of “The Ticker” ? Is it a crib or a table game? As soon as our mind begins reaching for some functional explanation of this sculpture, it runs into a different potential reality. Certain objects become charged with multiple functions and meanings. The white painted wood, crudely cut into a shape of clouds becomes a litmus test for different possible explanations.
“Alfredo’s China Cabinet #2”
That same wooden shaped cloud or a shape nearly identical to it shows up again in the exhibition’s most maximalist piece “Alfredo’s China Cabinet #2”. “Alfredo’s” is a densely packed cabinet of eccentric objects including but not limited to hand drawn canvas cereal boxes, a strainer, two giant sea shell like objects, and a white plastic bucket that is actually made from ceramic. Objects combat each other for our attention, and the clutter exists somewhere between excitement and stress. The cloud shaped piece of wood that psychologically charged “The Ticker” is nearly imperceptible in “Alfredo’s China Cabinet #2”. In “Alfredo’s”, it serves as a handle for a pullable drawer, and its role feels distinctly ornamental and functional. I completely overlooked it on my first two visits to the gallery. In this way, Ibarra is a master sculptor or assembler of his different pieces. He intrinsically understands that materials carry different weight and importance depending on their context and skillfully bends their presence to suit each piece’s overall character.
That same wooden shaped cloud or a shape nearly identical to it shows up again in the exhibition’s most maximalist piece “Alfredo’s China Cabinet #2”. “Alfredo’s” is a densely packed cabinet of eccentric objects including but not limited to hand drawn canvas cereal boxes, a strainer, two giant sea shell like objects, and a white plastic bucket that is actually made from ceramic. Objects combat each other for our attention, and the clutter exists somewhere between excitement and stress. The cloud shaped piece of wood that psychologically charged “The Ticker” is nearly imperceptible in “Alfredo’s China Cabinet #2”. In “Alfredo’s”, it serves as a handle for a pullable drawer, and its role feels distinctly ornamental and functional. I completely overlooked it on my first two visits to the gallery. In this way, Ibarra is a master sculptor or assembler of his different pieces. He intrinsically understands that materials carry different weight and importance depending on their context and skillfully bends their presence to suit each piece’s overall character.
“Fighting Through a Fence”
The delight and meaning, if meaning is in fact something we can take away from the artist’s work, can be found not in the discovery of a singular purpose or specific understanding, but rather on the edge of such discovery. As the Ibarra notes in a deft artist statement:
“the constant fickle process of scavenging for materials and objects continue to keep me engaged because it requires discernment. on the outset i begin by valuing objects for their potential. often my opinion changes and i find that value is misplaced. although disconcerting, it is the work.”
For Ibarra, the straining and searching is the point. It is the place where creativity, playfulness, and possibility exist on equal footing.
The same can be said about our role as the viewer. I delight in the rhythm and cadences certain objects create amongst themselves and the ingenious recycling of specific materials (an entire article could be written about the use of graphite in this show). The delicate curving of a blue line drawing of a plant in “Fighting Through a Fence” seems to echo the strange curved body and appendages of a porcelain platypus that stands above it as well as the arching movement of a karate bow staff in an illustration to its left. Materials playfully call out and get responses from their neighbors.
Whether I arrive at specific, concrete conclusions about what these sculptures are telling me feels besides the point. As Ibirra admits in his statement, repurposing found objects is itself an excess of sorts. It’s a “strange luxury”. And a strange luxury is exactly the state this exhibition leaves us in. I find myself straining to make deeper connections, trying to arrive at an understanding that I might not otherwise attempt. And isn’t this the exact state of mind that good art demands of us?
The Ticker and a Toddler Bite is currently on view at the UNO Gallery ( 2429 St Claude Ave, New Orleans, LA 70117).
The delight and meaning, if meaning is in fact something we can take away from the artist’s work, can be found not in the discovery of a singular purpose or specific understanding, but rather on the edge of such discovery. As the Ibarra notes in a deft artist statement:
“the constant fickle process of scavenging for materials and objects continue to keep me engaged because it requires discernment. on the outset i begin by valuing objects for their potential. often my opinion changes and i find that value is misplaced. although disconcerting, it is the work.”
For Ibarra, the straining and searching is the point. It is the place where creativity, playfulness, and possibility exist on equal footing.
The same can be said about our role as the viewer. I delight in the rhythm and cadences certain objects create amongst themselves and the ingenious recycling of specific materials (an entire article could be written about the use of graphite in this show). The delicate curving of a blue line drawing of a plant in “Fighting Through a Fence” seems to echo the strange curved body and appendages of a porcelain platypus that stands above it as well as the arching movement of a karate bow staff in an illustration to its left. Materials playfully call out and get responses from their neighbors.
Whether I arrive at specific, concrete conclusions about what these sculptures are telling me feels besides the point. As Ibirra admits in his statement, repurposing found objects is itself an excess of sorts. It’s a “strange luxury”. And a strange luxury is exactly the state this exhibition leaves us in. I find myself straining to make deeper connections, trying to arrive at an understanding that I might not otherwise attempt. And isn’t this the exact state of mind that good art demands of us?
The Ticker and a Toddler Bite is currently on view at the UNO Gallery ( 2429 St Claude Ave, New Orleans, LA 70117).