Joseph Cornell, Wanderlust

Not surprisingly, I’m rather partial to the American artist Joseph Cornell, whose enigmatic, nostalgic, and deeply personal little constructions and collages have been casting their spell since he began making them back in the thirties.

Earlier this year the Royal Academy of Arts over in London held a big exhibition of Cornell’s works, entitled “Wanderlust“. Unfortunately I haven’t been to London in years so never got a chance to take it in, but I did get my hands on a copy of their catalogue.

Up to now the only volume on Cornell in the Durno art library was Dore Ashton’s “A Joseph Cornell Album”, which is an excellent introduction to his life, work and world view but rather lacking in the pictorial reproduction department. “Wanderlust” fills that gap rather well.

I don’t plan on doing a full-on review here – if you like Cornell you should check it out, if you don’t why are you reading this? – but rather I’m going to use this as an opportunity to get all self-referential and talk about how Cornell relates to a couple of earlier posts in the blog.

First up, it seems to me Joseph Cornell’s work nicely exemplifies the DIY quality that I think is a notable and valuable characteristic of the art of the early 20th century. His boxes are very much the product of a shy, middle-class dreamer, and look as though they could have been made “in someone’s garage” – although in Cornell’s case they were in fact made in his unfinished basement, after he got tired of trying to do it all on the kitchen table.

The other observation I’d like to make is that Cornell’s imagination was deeply rooted in the There and Then, not the Here and Now, and yet somehow he managed to make some pretty wonderful things. I can’t help wondering how valuable the “non-colonized sensibility” rule really is, given that rigorously applied it would seem to exclude Cornell’s works from serious consideration. Cornell’s was an almost totally colonized sensibility, deeply immersed in nostalgia for times (16th-19th century) and places (France and other parts of Western Europe) that were far removed from the daily reality of his life in 20th century New York.

When I was going to school back in the 80s and 90s, “Nostalgia” was a dirty word, sufficient unto itself to condemn works and artists. In this it had supplanted “Kitsch”, which had been used to similar effect by an earlier generation of critics but had fallen out of favour due to its associations with High Modernist dogma. Nostalgia, the impermissible emotion, had taken its place, largely one suspects due to a perceived conflict with progressive ideals.

Ultimately though, it seems to me nostalgia is very much a part of the human condition, and as such, is as a valid a thing for an artist to explore as anything else. In making my case for that I’ll offer Joseph Cornell’s constructions as Exhibit A.

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