Performer Geoff Sobelle has turned the Kirk Douglas Theatre into a warehouse of boxed-up memories; Carolina Miranda of the L.A. Times on the trend toward mega-galleries in Los Angeles; Charlton Heston's family will auction three works by Andrew Wyeth that the actor collected.
In 'The Object Lesson,' Geoff Sobelle wants you to go through his stuff for the sake of theater
When you walk into The Kirk Douglas Theatre in Culver City these days, it’s a bit of a shock. There's no stage and all the seats have been removed.
Instead there are thousands of cardboard boxes, stacked on all sides to the 30-foot ceilings. Many of the boxes are filled with an assortment of random objects that belong to Geoff Sobellle, the creator and sole performer of “The Object Lesson.”
The show calls on audience members to not only react to Sobelle’s personal effects, but also their own. What ensues is often a revealing look at the emotions, stories and value we attribute to the items we carry around with us every day, or keep squirreled away in our garages and storage spaces.
Sobelle spoke with The Frame’s John Horn about the thinking behind the very strange set and what theatergoers can expect from “The Object Lesson.”
Interview Highlights
What was the motivation for that set?
It’s obviously a room that’s filled with boxes. But at the same time it’s kind of empty, like when you walk into a storage facility. There’s a feeling of anonymity ... One of the first thoughts with the boxes was that these things could then be revealed and come out. And you, the audience, could be the instigator of that. And that got really exciting to me.
We should make it clear that these are not a couple of dozen boxes.
There’s like 3,000 boxes.
But the audience is not just going through your stuff, they’re going through their own stuff. At one point you ask a couple of audience members to share what they have in their purses or pockets. I’m curious about what you learn about people through the objects they have.
The idea is, in that section, all you hear are the names of the things in their pockets. They are invited to say a few things at the end if they like. But for the most part they don’t. And it’s just a list of objects, and then it’s rearranged in order of least value to greatest value... It’s a snapshot of people and their objects. Sometimes it’s really boring and I love that. And sometimes it’s quite meaningful and I love that too.
And what does it teach you about people?
I’ve learned that people really value their cellphones. [laughs] But I think what I’ve really learned is that people don’t necessarily consider the things that they have on them, myself included. And therefore, there’s often a lot of humor in this section. Because in going through their bag, there’s a lot of discovery — personal discovery. And people end up cracking up and laughing hysterically at the things they have in their bag.
Sometimes they think it’s embarrassing at first to have a toothpick or used Kleenex or baked goods. And then they end up having this sense of empowerment. And owning it, in a way, as they put [their items] back into their bag. And then there’s these moments of real revelation. Like a guy had a Starbucks card he was going to give to his son when he went to college. It was this meaningless card, but a meaningful token. And I think it revealed itself to him in that moment.
But then you really get into the heart of the matter, which is the value an object has, the narrative that an object can tell. I’m wondering if you think the world is divided into people who save objects and instill in them meaning and narrative, and those who don’t even trust or believe in objects and want to get rid of them.
Maybe. I wonder about why we hold onto things ... I don’t consider myself a hoarder or anything like that. Although my sister did give me a definition of hoarding. She said that hoarding is when you think [an] object has feelings ... So I do think some people definitely give a lot more meaning to objects than other people do. I don’t know if it’s such a straight divide. In the process of doing this show, I went through a pretty big cleanse and wanting to just minimize my own stuff. And I definitely had this phase of getting rid of things, donating them, trashing them. And it felt great, but it also felt like I was drinking bleach or something like that.
A lot of the boxes onstage are filled with your own things. So, when the show is over, when it moves, will you get rid of some of it?
I’m going to have to kind of reassess. So, I guess, maybe I haven’t gotten rid of things. They’re in a kind of limbo. There is something that happens though, when you have an object that means something to you and you put it on a stage. Then it does become, for all intents and purposes, an art object or a prop. Whatever you call it, something has changed. The intimacy that you had with that thing is forever different. When you see it being handled by strangers and the lack of care, or different kind of care, or sometimes straight up contempt they might have for something and throw it down — suddenly the meaning is changed. I can’t even tell you what, exactly. It’s not diminished, it’s just different.
"The Object Lesson" is at the Kirk Douglas Theatre through Oct. 4.
The LA art scene: Mega-galleries and narco art
The visual art scene in L.A. seems to be growing in big ways these days. Not only are we a week into the life of the new Broad Museum, but there are massive galleries opening around town and there are artists migrating to Los Angeles to attend art school or grab big studio space.
One person who follows the art scene around the city is
. She writes the Culture: High and Low blog for the Los Angeles Times.
MEGA GALLERIES
When Miranda came to KPCC's studios, she spoke with The Frame Senior Producer Oscar Garza about the mega-galleries opening in L.A. from New York and beyond and how the current trend is to inhabit massive spaces. For instance, the Maccarone Gallery is a total of 35,000 square feet with 10,000 square feet of exhibition space. In the past the standard was closer to 2,000 square feet, but now it's near 5,000. Next year the gallery Hauser, Wirth & Schimmel will open in a space that's 100,000 square feet.
Miranda sees this is partially because gallerists can get larger space in L.A. than in New York, but at the same time it's an expression of a trend in the art itself.
The whole art world is going through this trend of gigantism .. .You're seeing larger scale installations, environmental installations. Art is not just about painting on a wall. It's now about these environments that you inhabit — monumental sculpture. So we're also seeing this trend towards gigantism just in terms of the types of works being produced. So, obviously, the gallerists need to have space in which to show that.
NARCO ART
One artist that Miranda discovered while combing the gallery scene in town is Camilo Restrepo. He's a 42-year-old Colombian artist whose work is currently on display at the Steve Turner Gallery.
Restrepo grew up in 1980s Medellín, amid the culture of narco violence and the Pedro Escobar years. His art is partially fueled by that history and encompasses "fantastical drawings" of "cartoonish scenes of insane violence." Miranda recounted a story he told her of being 10 years old, dressed as a superhero on Halloween, when he came upon a dead body in the street.
Restrepo began his art career as an art photographer in Colombia where he won an important prize and a Fulbright, but he told Miranda he wanted to push himself as an artist. So at the age of 38, he enrolled at CalArts to get an M.F.A.. He found being in school challenging. but he began working on paper — first in sketchbooks and then on a larger scale.
As a result his work is more visceral and personal. Miranda says "there's an energy and aggression," not just to the images, but also to how he treats and works with the materials, "He'll scrape the paper. He'll rub it with saliva," says Miranda, adding that Restrepo is an artist we'll be hearing more from in the coming years.
Charlton Heston's secret love: the artwork of Andrew Wyeth
Charlton Heston was primarily known as a movie star who later became President of the National Rifle Association. But he also harbored a love of fine art, in particular the work of American realist painter Andrew Wyeth, whose work Heston collected.
("Flood Plain," by Andrew Wyeth. Courtesy of Sotheby's)
Now, three works of Wyeth's that Heston owned will be auctioned by Sotheby's in New York in November. Holly Heston, the actor's daughter, joined us on the show today to talk about her father's history with the visual arts, and how growing up in a small Michigan town helped him identify with Wyeth's moody paintings.
Interview Highlights:
When people think of your dad, I bet that "art lover" isn't the first thing that comes to mind, but what role did art play in your father's life?
As a child, my father was an avid draftsman. He loved to sketch and paint, and he was often alone in the woods of Michigan and spent a lot of time reading books. So sketching, painting and reading were all big pastimes for him.
And how did he develop his love specifically for the work of Andrew Wyeth?
Andrew's paintings evoked the environment that he grew up in — he often painted lonely, desolate winter landscapes and they were just so all-American and simple and beautiful. And I think his work really appealed to my father, because it was familiar.
("Ice Pool," by Andrew Wyeth. Courtesy of Sotheby's)
And I believe there was also a connection between your father and Andrew Wyeth's father, N.C. Wyeth?
Yes. In those days, because they didn't have TV, kids quite often got lost in fantasy stories. My father read books constantly and his favorite stories were "Treasure Island," "Robinson Crusoe," and "Lives of the Hunted." And many of those stories' Scribner's versions were illustrated by N.C. Wyeth.
One of the three pieces that's being auctioned by the Heston family is a painting called "Flood Plain." In 1991, your father received a surprise package in the mail — a sketch of the painting from Andrew Wyeth. Your father sent a fantastic letter back to Andrew, and it says, "I haven't been so excited about a Christmas gift since I was 10 years old when I got my first .22." Were you around that Christmas? Do you remember him receiving that sketch?
I remember the story behind it. I think what made it so special was that it really showed my father the process of painting, the artistry behind creating the images that one finally ends up with.
In fact, the sketch is slightly different than the final painting, so you see the process of, What do I put in this corner? How do I draw you into the painting? Do I use a specific color? Those things are so important — you don't just quickly paint it. It's a process.
These artworks meant a lot to your father and I'm sure they meant a lot to your family as well. Why auction them off? Was there a temptation to keep them in the family?
The timing was right for us. My mother's 92 and we're downsizing from the life that we led with our family, and it's one of those things that we can't split in half. So we think it makes the most sense for another family to buy it and enjoy it the way our family did.