ANN HAMILTON
b. Lima, Ohio, in 1956
Lives and works in Ohio
EDUCATION
BFA in textile design from the University of Kansas in 1979
MFA in sculpture from the Yale School of Art in 1985
From 1985 to 1991, she taught on the faculty of the University of
California at Santa Barbara. Hamilton has served on the faculty of The Ohio
State University since 2001, where she is a Distinguished University Professor
in the Department of Art.
Matterings
At the Central
Library, you don’t even need to open a book to find all sorts of written
text. Ann Hamilton’s LEW Wood Floor (2004) is composed of sentences in 11 different
languages, welcoming all visitors to the library. As a continuous tactile
field, the wood floor consists of 556 lines of maple floorboard routed to make
a walkable surface of relief letter forms. It covers 7,200 square feet in
the Evelyn W Foster Learning Center, at the 4th Avenue entrance,
which is home to the Literacy/ESL/World Languages (LEW) Collection, from which
the project derives its name. The artist chose languages that represent the
largest and most frequently used areas of the LEW Collection: Arabic, Chinese,
English, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Russian, Spanish and
Vietnamese.
If you look
closely, you will see that the letters are backwards . . . a reference to
traditional typesetting technique in the days before digital printing. In
addition, the task of reading the floorboards backwards “demonstrates the
experience of learning to read as a process wherein abstract symbols become, in
time, transparent and meaningful words and sentences.” The artist collected
“1,543 first sentences gathered by patrons and librarians from books in The
Seattle Public Library Fiction and LEW collection. Fiction and non-fiction,
poetry and musical lyrics are the dominant textual sources. First lines may not
be the most notable line of a book, but after the cover they are a universal
portal to an immersion in a book’s interior world. The project seeks to evoke a
tactile experience of book production and reading in this digital age.”
The
installation tropos,
like all of Ann Hamilton’s works, is a sensory experience. Created as a
site-specific installation for Dia Center for the Arts in New York City, tropos refers to the idea of tropism,
meaning a natural tendency, or a living being’s proclivity to respond to stimuli
in a specific way, such as a plant that grows towards light.
The
installation is made primarily from horse hair—a vast landscape of varying
shades of hair from the tails of horses covers the entire floor of the
5,000-square foot space. Hamilton altered the floor beneath the hair with
poured concrete, the effects of which are subtle shifts in the floor’s
topography beneath the hair, which becomes clear only when a visitor walks
across the room. Further on into the interior of the space, Hamilton has placed
a small metal table, at which a seated attendant works diligently to burn the
printed words from a book as smoke rises from the seared text. Muted, but
audible, is a distant voice struggling to articulate words, which remain
unintelligible for the most part. A final, subtle aspect of tropos is the
sealed unity of the room, an effect created by Hamilton’s use of translucent
glass in the windows; light beams in, yet sight to the outside is precluded.
Like many of Hamilton’s large-scale works, tropos was created by hand through
the collaborative efforts of many individuals, both at the FW+M and Dia Center
for the Arts. The community that evolves from labor-intensive production is an
important component of Hamilton’s methodology and artistic practice.
In 1994,
after the completion of tropos, Hamilton created a second project with the FWM. A limited
edition multiple encased in a glass and wood vitrine, her Untitled project is a collar fabricated
from linen and horse hair. Strands of horse hair were used to embroider a 16th
century-style alphabet on the inside of the collar. The unfinished ends of the
embroidered hair pass through to the exterior of the collar, forming a
swirling, circular mass of hair. The object recalls historic relics—an
Elizabethan ruff, for example—yet remains connected to sensory experience
through its assumed placement around a person’s throat with the letters of the
alphabet resting near the voice box. Untitled references a relationship between
the rapid growth of literacy and a gradual devaluation of non-verbal knowledge,
such as that learned and experienced in the body.
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