by Pria Dahiya
Endurance and longevity are the quiet constants in any craft. Contemplating the objects on display in 芸［Gei] : The Beauty of Ephemeral and Eternal at Contemporary Craft means not only delighting in their aesthetic charms but considering the technique, materials, methodologies, traditions, and relationships that allow for these object’s existence.
Gei is a complex show, a triumph of intense collaboration between the four artists – Carol Kumata, Tadao Arimoto, Yoko Skein-Bove, and Miwa Neishi – and Sogetsu Pittsburgh, led by Reiko Nakajima and Atsumi Sewell. There’s an educational component to the show, an installation aspect, a programming aspect, and over 47 individual works on display. But the show remains balanced, and the gallery, peaceful. I am not one for going to church, but sitting in silent contemplation of these structures – vases, tables, chairs, cages, bark, tree trunks, flowers – is a close second.
Many clever details stood out to me on my second and third visits. The contorted, double-trunked dead tree stump which greets you to your left when you enter the gallery rhymes with Miwa Neshi’s jovial little ceramic forms. A plane of hanging bamboo – which Director of Exhibitions Yu-San Cheng informed me were cut from a friend’s backyard – supports the signage, while floating, looping wood shavings hang from the cieling structure. It’s easy to sit in a corner and let the overall arrangement of the room work it’s magic on you.
The floral arrangements in the exhibition are changed out weekly by Sogetsu Pittsburgh. Sogetsu is a school of Ikebana – traditional Japanese flower arrangement – developed by Hiroshi Tshigahara in the early 1920s. It builds on traditional rules and techniques believing that once Ikebana techniques have been mastered, the artist must look beyond the flowers, reeds, and leaves of traditional Ikebana and and introduce arrangements utilizing wood, sticks, man-made objects, and more.
The varied materials, in this case, are masterpieces of woodworking, ceramics, metalsmithing activated with natural materials like wood shavings, sticks, and florals. On the floor of the room are piles of branches and logs strewn with Carol Kumata’s metal structures. There are four long tables composed of simple stands with slabs of rough-hewn wood, peeling bark still clinging to the ledge. On the surface of these tables are playful little ceramic creatures and rich, glossy vases. There are two tables adjacent, left empty – the table being the artwork itself. And if you turn where you came in, there are flowers. Bursting bunches of chrysanthemum, juniper, driftwood, and bittersweet vine.
In my first visit, the floral arrangements barely registered as I desperately circled each vase trying to ensure I had seen it from every angle and in every light. The glazes are so luminescent, and the shapes so free, it felt wrong to not give each form the time of day. Visiting again, the florals began to activate the objects and even personify them for me – in Neishi’s Haiku, a branch popped out like the sculpture was having bright idea. In Dancer, the vibrating lines were kept safe and shaded from the elements by a large parasol-like leaf.
Haiku (Left) and Dancer (Right).
I have not yet seen Yoko Sekino-Bové’s Obsession with a floral arrangement, but I don’t think I will. This standout work is both vase and flower, and will provoke a head shake and “how did she do that?” from anyone with a passing understanding of wheel-throwing and stoneware. Yu-San informed me that Sekino-Bové was inspired by tulip bulbs and tulip mania, the period during the Dutch Golden Age when the prices of certain tulip bulbs skyrocketed to astonishing levels. If you murmured and clucked at the cunning biomimicry of Beate Kuhn’s sculptures at the Carnegie Museum of Art, you will appreciate the evenness of the layered bulbs and the small carvings underneath the surface manipulating the reflective lusters.
Yoko Sekino-Bové’s Obsession (2024) / Beate Kuhn’s Architectural Group (Architektonische Gruppe) (1964)
The other two artists, Carol Kumata and Tadao Arimoto, work in metalsmithing and woodworking respectively. Kumata is a sculptor living and working in Pittsburgh who retired from a 42-year teaching career at Carnegie Mellon University’s School of Art in 2021. When Kumata met me at the Gallery, she was warm, excited and engaged in discussing the process of fabricating and exhibiting the two bodies of work she has on display, Micro Macro (1993) and Micro Macro Part 2 (2024).
Various Pieces of Micro Macro (1993)
I was intrigued by the choice to display such airy, light-filled sculptures on the ground, and the decision to embed them in the heavy pile of logs. It was an effective visual contrast and spread dramatic latticed shadows across the gallery floor. “For this exhibition,” Kumata explained, “we changed the way the works were originally exhibited. We put these logs there as they kind of looked like tidal pool debris, something that might wash in with the ocean. These objects [the structures of Micro Macro] to me had the feeling of treasures you might find on a beach.”
Working thirty years later to create Micro Macro Part 2, Kumata told me she used the same techniques she used on the original set of structures. The only thing that changed were the materials and shapes. This new body of work is round and brass, with lovely gradations in tone and color from silver soldered joints.
Being in the presence of an artist with such great connection to this place and such vast knowledge of her craft was a true priveledge. I loved hearing about her memories of Pittsburgh, her wistfulness at the cheap price of steel – “when I first moved to Pittsburgh, man, you could just get dirt cheap steel anywhere, I mean, it was incredible” – to the relationship between craft and demographics. “Because this is such a working class blue collar history in Pittsburgh – well. not so much anymore…” ” she explained, then chuckled “But! there’s was always appreciation of the work of the hand and of labor in general. Doing manual labor means you appreciate the things that are made that clearly look like it took time and some amount a skill – a respect for a tradition, which is a good thing for the appreciation of craft.”
I certainly agree, and this is one of the things I appreciate most deeply about Pittsbrugh’s arts scene. Having seen the overwhelming popularity of Marie Watt’s Pittsburgh-specific steel beam masterpiece Land Stitches Water Sky over the summer with our community, I have come to truly believe that Pittsburghers and hungry for work that directly references our city’s material histories and cultural memory.
Tadao Arimoto was similarly wise and graceful. Entering his woodworking studio my nose was filled with the smell of fresh wood – a smell I didn’t know existed but I lack any other term to describe it. Arimoto is a thoughtful, gracious, and deeply intelligent woodworker whose work can be found in every corner of this city. I was visiting a friend living out of an old convent in Braddock this month and in one of the rooms, lo and behold, was an Arimoto desk, signature sticks poking out and supporting below.
Tadao’s work “draws on the beauty and strength of organic structures”, his signature gathered-stick legs being one of them. “I see so much that’s artificial” he shared, “so much simple geometry, around me. Like a monitor, iphone, cellphone, paper, table… they’re all flat and 90 degrees. In nature, each tree, each leaf has a different shape. This variation is important to me.”
I asked him about my two favorite works on display in Gei – two Lotus-shaped Stools and Squibnocket Stand, a one-legged side table grounded with a rock.
“When you are purposely creating a shape, rather than using the natural edge derived from the material, where are you finding inspiration?” He cited nature as inspiration of course, but also insisted he “doesn’t try to get that close to the realistic shape… I just don’t have time!” His eyes lit up as he explained to me how the chairs, made of cherry wood, will change color over time, going from pale wood to reddish brown, even beetle-black. He had a slight delight when speculating how the stools might be be hit by a petulant child in the future, how scratches and dents would appear on it’s surface.
“Those are all part of the history of this material” he shared, “this wood exists for hundreds of years, and I only encounter it for a short time, and it goes on to exist for another hundreds of years. I am interested in the change that carries – the history within every cut, scratch, stain. I’m particularly interested in wood and stone, the rings of trees and sediment of rock has records of time.”
I asked about stone – particularly the choice to place the stone at the base of the one-legged table. It was a simple gesture that fascinated me. The first answer he gave me – “Well, without the stone, it’s wobbly.” – belied an interesting history with this piece. Arimoto had crafted a similar stand/table for a school in Puerto Rico. Only the stand was sent over, and Arimoto asked that the school in Puerto Rico select a stone from the surrounding environment as the weight at the base of the stand. “In this way, it became a collaboration.”
Collaboration is at the root of Gei’s success. The exhibition itself is a harmonious collaboration of the natural and the man-made, and the wealth of community programming offered in conjunction with the exhibit is a valuable opportunity for anyone looking to engage with these ideas. On Saturday, November 9, Sogetsu Pittsburgh’s founder will lead an introduction to the modern Sogetsu school of Ikebana. And on Saturday, January 18, you can join Contemporary Craft on a guided tour of Gei on the closing day of the exhibition.
All these events are free with registration, and the gallery is open 10am-5pm Monday through Saturday. This is a truly unique show and worth a visit, or multiple. My one rule – if you go, give yourself the time to sit still and breathe with the work. It’s worth it.
Pria Dahiya is a director, visual artist and writer exploring internet culture through literary adaptation, movement and media design. With a passion for exploring the intersection of technology and humanity, Pria’s work transcends the boundaries of traditional art forms, seamlessly blending literary adaptation, movement, and media design. Pria has also spent twenty-one years being biracial, bisexual, and chronically online.
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