Living & Arts

Hamada installataion brings harmony to List

In print | November 13, 2008

Brainteaser for all you Swarthmore geniuses (for their own safety, non-geniuses are encouraged to cease reading immediately): what do a space capsule, an igloo and a life preserver have in common? “Elementary, Wantman,” you say with a matter-of-fact tone and half-smile (for you have just made a “funny”). “Why, those objects are all currently residing in the List Gallery.” Negatory, you fool! That was no space capsule you saw in the List Gallery, but an authentic Hiroyuki Hamada! Hiroyuki Hamada’s new exhibit—which will both excite and confuse you—houses several sculptures, including three familiar objects resembling an igloo, a life preserver and a space capsule, but are actually far from being so. As Andrea Packard, the director of the List Gallery, points out, “these objects are not stage props. Hamada’s sculptures are not illusions of something in the actual world, but things that cause us to contemplate states of being.”

Why do these sculptures inspire such contemplation? Perhaps because their initial resemblance to familiar objects is illusory, and upon closer inspection we notice conflicting characteristics, characteristics that oppose each other so fundamentally as to create oxymoronic art. Hamada’s sculptures are simultaneously weathered and worn, yet shaped with perfect symmetry and engraved with ritualistic care. One piece in particular, #51, made of enamel, oil, plaster, tar and wax, is particularly deceptive. From afar, we see the smooth outline of a perfect ellipse. Up close, however, we notice clear imperfections such as gashes and what almost look like bite marks on piano keys. What’s more, once we’re a few feet from the piece, we discover that the brown mass of tar is no longer an ellipse, but a rounded object with rippled edges—merely a victim of the passage of eons. The paradox that arises between a time-worn yet harmonious appearance provokes the viewer. We are left wondering how these dual characteristics—symmetry and asymmetry, perfection and imperfection—work together to create beauty.

Tania Alvarez ’09, an art history major, describes how the engraved surfaces monopolize her attention, distracting her from the overall shape of the piece, making unnecessary the discussion of whether these figures are real-world objects or not. “Hamada’s sculptures … asked me to slow down and closely examine their surfaces,” Alvarez said. “I soon found myself interlocked with the piece meditating on the elaborately worked surface against its smooth and plain counterpart. Hamada’s pieces create such a memorably peaceful interaction that for me, any references to reality seem superfluous.”

Hamada himself compares the use of dual characteristics to create beauty in art with the use of multiple tones to produce harmony in music. “Just as music uses certain combinations of sounds to have effects on our emotion, in visual art, people use visual cues effectively to create main themes, backgrounds, rhythms and so on. Here, two different visual cues can be put together in cohesive ways to present tension and/or drama in the work,” Hamada said.

“The duality also comes from my making process perhaps … Most of the time, the basic shapes or the ideas that get to be the 3D objects are fairly pristine, balanced looking. I would say that might be the part that gives the idea of ‘near-perfect.’ But from then on, the pieces get the layers that can be described as ‘distressed.’” The “distressed” look is similar in theory but different in realization. Hamada produces a worn and weathered look by overlaying wooden structures with plaster and burlap, then shaping and staining them with resin, paint and wax. The process requires two or more years’ time, and so we can safely say that the result looks more authentic than your faux frayed Abercrombies (even if you did pay $89.90).

Distress is one characteristic that differentiates Hamada’s art from objects we have experienced before. For this reason, Packard points out, “They resist exact description or language.” Interesting that she chose the word “language,” because the absence of language culture, and social processes in art are key to Hamada’s vision. “I grew up in a different country with a different language, a different value system, a different social structure and so on. So when I found out that there are ways to communicate through paintings and sculptures without referring to our cultural, social backgrounds, it really hit me hard. I just think it’s plain weird and wonderful at the same time to be able to say things visually. I can’t seem to get over the fun in exploring the possibilities in it and also it’s such a good feeling to come up with some common grounds for us to go beyond our differences, and all that without shooting at each other!” said Hamada.

Upon hearing his response, Packard admired Hamada’s nobility and affirmed his declaration, saying, “His work represents universal truth rather than [truth] specific to one culture or environment.”
Having been asked the same question, List Gallery intern Yuan Liu ’09 interprets Hamada’s vision in much the same way the artist expressed it himself: “I know that the idea of a universal visual language is important in Hamada’s work,” Liu said. “After coming to the US from Japan at age 18, Hamada found himself experiencing a wide culture and language gap. As an Asian immigrant artist myself, I understand the power of visual communication when language fails in expression.”

Hamada’s art remains on display in LPAC until Dec. 14. Liu will be hosting a talk on the artist from 2 to 3 p.m. on Dec. 10 at the List Gallery.