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Untitled
(Medici Slot Machine)
1942 Joseph Cornell
Object
(Roses des Vents)
1942-1953 Joseph Cornell
Cornell
in his workshop 1960's
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In
describing Untitled (Medici Slot Machine)1942 in which Cornell uses
a photocopy of the young prince Marchese Massimiliano Waldman
(2000, p.70) asks the question:
"Is
the Medici prince a surrogate for Cornell? Indeed, the lean figure of
the Marchese resembles the young Cornell... the sitter was identified
as possibly Piero de' Medici, whose mother died when he was eight years
old. The fatherless Cornell might have felt a connection with this early
tragedy."To
me there seems an obvious connection here, Cornell's father died when
he was young and his circumstances were dramatically altered. Cornell's
family had been prosperous by the standards of the time.McShine
(1980, p,92) stated that:"Cornell's
Mother ran the household with the help of servants an nursemaids.",but
after the death of Cornell's father from leukemia, Cornell's mother was
forced to take on part time jobs including making cakes.McShine
(1980, p,92) continues:"Cornell
retained indelible impressions of his childhood in a close-knit family,
and in subtle and direct ways his art contained reverberations of his
childhood."Being
the oldest of 4 children, did the 14 year old Cornell feel as if he'd
been thrust into adulthood and responsibility? I think it is more than
a possibility that the coloured balls, jacks and building blocks seen
in the Medici series relate to Cornell's childhood toys from a more happier
and secure time. The connected ideas in Cornell's work were of a very
personal nature, and to understand his work, we need to explore his obsessive
filling and cataloguing process.The
following quotes are from Blair (1998, p.13) 'Vision of Spiritual Order':"He
kept a record of everything he thought, saw or felt in his dossiers, those
files that he meticulously stored, classified and returned to throughout
his career.... What we cannot but be aware of is, within the whole associative
process, the importance Cornell attached to the chance connections. He
used these chance connections and built them into his obsession as if
they were somehow symbolically meant. Synchronicity is seen as a signal,
a guide to be trusted."Cornell
trusted serendipity. Once a connection was made and became a project,
it became a permanent idea and part of his ever expanding artistic vocabulary.Bookhardt
(1997) describes one of Cornell's journeys quoting his own journal:"In
explaining how he came to make boxes,... On a trip into Manhattan, he
saw a collection of compasses in the window of an antique shop: ' I thought,
everything can be used in a lifetime, can't it, and went on walking. I'd
scarcely gone two blocks when I came on another show window full of boxes,
all different kinds. . . Halfway home on the train that night, I thought
of the compasses and boxes, it occurred to me to put the two together"Cornell
would tinker with his box constructions for many years, trying to create
what he referred to as a 'new variant', or a new version. Sometimes boxes
he had given away as gifts would be brought back so that he could make
a slight change. To my way of thinking, it is as if Cornell was never
quite satisfied with the result, and was never sure of himself.On
this theme Caws (1993, p.91) quotes a letter from Cornell to a friend:".
. . You say, 'do write me at once about the request for an article about
my method of work'. . . To do an article in a hurry would not be possible
for me... How I ever get any objects finished, especially with the endless
detail that goes into them, is always a mystery to me... I'd want to feel
a little surer of myself, at least have more solid things to my credit
than have evolved so far from my dilettante manner of working. . . ."
Also from Caws (1993, p.255) relating to Cornell's complicated and obsessive
working method:"In
his passion for holding on to the moment or the spontaneous exploration
of an idea, Cornell often filed parts of projects with other projects,
creating files within files. In their interconnections, few things were
ever completed in his mind. A diary entry of June 11, 1960 reveals his
continuing anxiety: 'trying to make sense out of prolixity'..."
I
think the secret to knowing why Cornell's disparaging objects seem to
fit together is that he tried endless combinations. His numerous projects
sat on his shelves for up to 10 years and he would re-work them over and
over again. Is it possible that the reason why Cornell seemed reluctant
to give titles to his work was because he thought of them as 'works in
progress'? I believe that what we now refer to the 'Medici slot machine'
series, were never planned as such, but were actually part of an endless
search to find the perfect 'variant' or combination. |