Certain objects must be touched. Not just in a utilitarian way, but in the same sense as a painting needs to be seen, not merely looked at. When Rodin’s The Kiss stood in the rotunda of the old Tate I couldn’t pass by without running my hands over it. It required — no, demanded — I do that, otherwise what was it for?
I came across this at the Museum of Anthropology here, yesterday:
I knew a little bit about it, as there was a fair amount of fuss when it was acquired. History explains why but doesn’t begin to account for the object’s attraction. It was a gift presented to James Cook on his third Pacific voyage in 1778 by the Nuu-chah-nulth people of Vancouver Island. Carved from a single piece of Yew, the form is a club, of the size used to kill seal or halibut. It was almost certainly never used for that though. Made prior to European contact, and significant as a hawilmis, or “chiefly treasure” to local First Nations, this is a heavy item in more ways than one.
Yet that still doesn’t fully explain the draw. There’s something about a piece created from a coherent chunk of natural material, rather than an assemblage, that appeals. The Kiss is like that, so are my Father’s carvings, and I have at times accumulated random castings in metal, or plastic. Maybe there’s a profundity in completeness, or wholeness, for me. Not sure. Beyond that, and more important, is the shape though. Holding the club provides a third hand, an embodied extension of your existing one. It holds what...? A ball, an orb, a globe, a planet? Whatever it is it’s no more than a simulacrum of a killing instrument. If that was its actual aim, or even its symbolic one, the design would surely be different — A spike, a wedge, a form that penetrates? And the hand would grip, this almost caresses, or weighs, the object it holds. The “club” is about something else, I’m just not sure what, and I’m certain I won’t have a clue until I hold it.
Which isn’t going to happen soon:
I came across this at the Museum of Anthropology here, yesterday:
I knew a little bit about it, as there was a fair amount of fuss when it was acquired. History explains why but doesn’t begin to account for the object’s attraction. It was a gift presented to James Cook on his third Pacific voyage in 1778 by the Nuu-chah-nulth people of Vancouver Island. Carved from a single piece of Yew, the form is a club, of the size used to kill seal or halibut. It was almost certainly never used for that though. Made prior to European contact, and significant as a hawilmis, or “chiefly treasure” to local First Nations, this is a heavy item in more ways than one.
Yet that still doesn’t fully explain the draw. There’s something about a piece created from a coherent chunk of natural material, rather than an assemblage, that appeals. The Kiss is like that, so are my Father’s carvings, and I have at times accumulated random castings in metal, or plastic. Maybe there’s a profundity in completeness, or wholeness, for me. Not sure. Beyond that, and more important, is the shape though. Holding the club provides a third hand, an embodied extension of your existing one. It holds what...? A ball, an orb, a globe, a planet? Whatever it is it’s no more than a simulacrum of a killing instrument. If that was its actual aim, or even its symbolic one, the design would surely be different — A spike, a wedge, a form that penetrates? And the hand would grip, this almost caresses, or weighs, the object it holds. The “club” is about something else, I’m just not sure what, and I’m certain I won’t have a clue until I hold it.
Which isn’t going to happen soon:
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