Metro Pulse/Artbeat/William Morris

What:
Myth, Object, and the Animal: Glass Installations by William Morris

Where:
Knoxville Museum of Art, 1050 World's Fair Park Drive

When:
Through Jan. 4, 2004 (with a related lecture on body adornment in Africa by UT's Dr. William Dewey, Sunday, Nov. 30; call 525-6101 for more information)

'Myth, Object and the Animal' glimpses Morris' vision

by Heather Joyner

After recovering from my initial disappointment that the William Morris currently featured at the KMA is not the same-named 19th Century Arts and Crafts era patriarch, I visited the exhibit. And it indeed presents the artwork of an altogether different beast (a fitting term given numerous animals populating pieces made by the contemporary Morris). Crafted from glass, a dozen horned skull fragment—� la Georgia O'Keeffe—dominate one wall, and a multitude of fragile "tusks" are arranged in descending size, alluding to the ribcage of an elephant. Elsewhere in the gallery, six ravens attend to vessels resembling ancient Greek amphoras. Consisting of over 300 glass objects, the show titled "Myth, Object and the Animal" reflects a variety of approaches to a range of subjects, approaches that rely on technology unheard of in the mossy Britain of more than a century ago.

Although glassblowing has been practiced for at least seven centuries, using relatively small furnaces was not possible until the modern studio glass movement began in the early 1960s. Dale Chihuly, a solo exhibitor at the KMA three years ago and perhaps the most famous glass artist in this country, has since mentored many talented individuals—Morris among them. And as Chihuly's protégé, Morris has become known for his astonishing technical skill. Particularly notable is his ability to make glass appear solid or opaque and assume the form of ceramics, bones, stone, or animal skins. He has also developed techniques that lend glass a matte, textured, or crackled surface. Images are sometimes applied using transfers and/or stencils.

Morris is interested in primitive artifacts and "addressing the relationship between humans and the environment." Regarding his abundant animal references, the artist expresses that he long feared such work might be considered cute. Nevertheless, he has ended up creating animal figures, believing they "...have more effect and power on us than even I was willing to admit." As someone who spent his early years digging in Indian burial mounds, hiking, camping and exploring the outdoors near his native Carmel, Calif., Morris adds, "I had a continued, intimate relationship with the outdoors ever since I could walk. I remember finding artifacts as a child and being intrigued with them." That fascination with nature and archaeology eventually resulted in extensive trips to sites in Lascaux, France and to Stonehenge in England. Native American petroglyphs, ancient Iranian "rhytons," and the art of Mesopotamia, Egypt, and Africa have also factored into pieces that attempt to "transcend time and individual cultures."

Following high school, Morris studied in California, then at Central Washington University in Ellensburg (soon after Chihuly opened the respected Pilchuck Glass School in Stanwood, Wash., hosting what the KMA refers to as "a virtual 'who's who' of glass artists"). In the late '70s, Morris was hired as a truck driver for Pilchuck. He eventually became a student, then an instructor, then Chihuly's master glassblower or "gaffer." In 1989, he became the school's assistant artistic director. Morris still works eight months a year at Pilchuck and spends summers with his wife and sons in Idaho.

"Myth, Object and the Animal" is, above all else, a celebration of what glass as an artistic medium can do. Roaming the KMA's large upstairs gallery, I met San Francisco-based artist Lewis deSoto (here for the opening of his "Paranirvana" installation at UT's Ewing Gallery). I asked him why he thinks Morris makes glass resemble things like Pueblo pottery. "Probably because he can," deSoto responded.

"Glass has the ability to take on forms I can't do otherwise...it has that luminescence and life that an artifact has," Morris says. When lacking a reflective surface, glass holds light within. It can assume an inner glow that the artist equates with "a feeling of spirit." Be that as it may, I'm still distracted when materials imitate other materials. How does an entirely tactile experience like working with clay compare to glassblowing, a step removed from direct touch? And how can materials not reflect the nature of their respective processes? More than a trick, a leap from one medium to another sends messages about appearances versus reality. But what messages are herein being conveyed?

Call me a purist, but the artifacts Morris so admires have, at times, inspired exquisitely wrought yet somewhat weak translations of other things—surely not the aim of the artist. The transformation of one thing into another might hold up better if we better understood Morris' intentions. We see what his obsessions are, but we're not sure what he's trying to do with them. To throw in everything but the kitchen sink when it comes to symbolism can result in some fairly dirty dishes.

The museum's press release states, "While Morris' glass sculptures attempt to connect viewers with natural and spiritual forces of the world, he downplays the deep analyses and the mythical explanations of his work so that visitors may come up with their own interpretations." In this case, the old "I'm Okay-You're Okay approach" may prove inadequate. Now into his mid-40s, Morris represents impressive discipline and undeniable talent. His pieces are often arresting, if not utterly gorgeous. I look forward to seeing how his career progresses, and for the time being, the KMA gives us an intriguing glimpse of what he has accomplished thus far.