patrick zentz
TRIO
patrick zentz: TRIO
artist statement
T
he process of aging is beguiling; while physically extenuating, it bestows
perspective that is unattainable by any other means. Seeing and listening to the fifteen-year-old instruments in this exhibition has had an effect on me like that described by Marcel Proust in his Remembrance of Things Past, when a sip of tea acutely piques a flood of memories from his youth. After spending a lifetime making objects, I look back and see that all the artifacts littering the past are markers that syncopate states of mind with specific moments.
During my final year as a biology student in college, an ecology professor approached me with a project. He was studying the seed dispersal mechanisms of plants and needed diagrams to illustrate his findings. This was in 1968, well before the personal computing era. What would now be a prosaic data visualization task, back then required laborious calculations with a slide rule and tedious drafting techniques incorporating T-square, triangle, and ink pen. The resulting plots of gridded contours, while effecting a much-needed bump to my ecology grade, more importantly stimulated a curiosity in topography and the symbiotic relationships of the living systems it supports. My initial fascination was with the amorphous contortions that the composite squares of the drafted grids assumed when stretched into three-dimensional space. The puzzling form of these distorted planes somehow held information about the underlying geologic surface. To understand the drawings better I stretched a rope grid over a massive boulder on the college campus. That first step would lead to the instruments seen here. But before considering them in detail, a bit more history will be helpful. Following graduation, I headed back to Montana from California with my wife, Suzie. I was intent on graduate school and the study of art. Science and art had crossed paths for me at that moment when a co-
nundrum exposed by a scientific illustration promised resolution by way of sculpture, a discipline focused on the visualization of abstract concepts through form. Graduate school incubated study that led to deeper understanding of the substantive issues of form and space, as well as the idiosyncrasies of perception. This was in the early ‘70s and the ideas of artists like Sol LeWitt, Don Judd, Eva Hesse, Vito Acconci, Nancy Holt, and Robert Smithson riveted my attention. The rigor with which they addressed issues inspired me. Conceptual and performance art, too, had profound influence. It was a wonderful time to be a young artist seeking direction. After graduate school I taught for a few years. It was then that ideas precipitating the instruments began to form. My earlier thinking about the grid was concerned with its structure. It occurred to me, however, that the defining element of the grid is its intersections; specify their locations and the grid is articulated. I had been struggling to find a way to explore land surface and sculpturally evoke its essence. This new notion of the intersection effected a cascade of ideas that resulted in the use of the intersections not as formal structures but as loci for action. The grid transformed from a geometric object of investigation into an instrument for investigation. I would use it to study the land surface whose complexities had enticed this scrutiny in the first place.
Terregraphy Instruments The issue remaining, at this point, was to define a set of actions that would extrapolate relevant information from the landscape. A project conceived of as a land performance emerged. Five instruments were designed that would uniquely assess the environment. The titles of the instruments that follow essentially define their functions: 1. Plant Motion Drawing Instrument 2. Horizon Drawing Instrument 3. Soil Color Extractor 4. Surface Profile Instrument 5. Wind Drawing Machine
The locations for positioning these devices were determined subdividing a square mile into four smaller squares. This created nine intersections from which each instrument was operated. The forty-five resulting drawings elicited a graphic signature of the site. Introducing the idea of “instrument� as sculpture appealed to me. The term typically is used to define devices of precision. Like instruments, the Terregraphy devices were meticulously crafted and designed so that their mechanical function was explicit and easily correlated to their visual output.
Instruments for DAY Continued research in 1985 led to an attempt to translate or, perhaps more correctly, transform information from the environment into another form. The intent was to gain a different perspective and perhaps clearer understanding of a specific locale. “The Instruments for Day” performance consists of three sound instruments that each engage a particular feature of a site and transform it into sound. A flowing creek, the horizon line, and temperature change throughout a day were solicited as scores for a stringed instrument, flutes, and a drum respectively. The wind mechanically activated all three instruments; in effect, scores extracted from the landscape were performed by the wind. A thirty-minute vinyl recording documents segments of the daylong event.
instance, analog signals can be read from highly accurate electronic sensors and processed with microcontrollers. Precision improves dramatically and the external sensors, impervious to climatic conditions, can run perpetually.
Instruments for Trio Over the next fifteen years public art commissions implemented kinetic and sound transformations to examine mostly urban environments. Then in 1998 the Sheppard Gallery, at the University of Nevada in Reno, in conjunction with the North American Interdisciplinary Conference on Environment and Community, commissioned a new instrument. “Renowind,” the drum now on view in this exhibition, was the result. It was joined by two new instruments the following year for a show at Suyama Space in Seattle. The new works were called, “Puget Sound Table” and “Horizon (Songline) Translator.” That, in essence, is the origin of Trio. The difference between these instruments and the previous “DAY” piece was that the newer instruments, while responsive to the external environment, were able to be displayed inside the gallery through the use of physical computing techniques. This approach brings significant improvement to the sensitivity of the instruments. Instead of relying on mechanical linkage to a sail or windmill, for
The Trio pieces mark a pivotal point in a fortyyear body of work. The initial rope grids, stretched over the landscape, later evolved into this electronically augmented instrument system that transforms environmental phenomena into new form. After their initial 1998 showing, several public commissions followed that expanded ideas kindled by these three instruments—especially related to utilizing sound, not as music, but as an encoded signal charged with environmental data. Then about six years ago I halted production of the instruments in order to study computer programming.
Current Work The instrument systems and machines made over the past years were created to take measure of the environment—not metrically like science does to obtain data for statistical processing, but more to ascertain the sense of a place. Like the nuances of temperature, wind, and light that combine with the terrain and biology of an area to define its essence. There’s an almost alchemical enchantment in that type of complexity—and it drives my work. There are many ways to know things and I’m interested in using both art and science to tease out new possibilities. Computation is at the heart of this. As Howard Reingold states in his book, Tools for Thought, “The digital computer is based on a theoretical discovery known as ‘the universal machine,’ which is not actually a tangible device but a mathematical description of a machine capable of simulating the actions of any other machine. Once you have created a general-purpose machine that can imitate any other machine, the future development of the tool depends only on what tasks you can think to do with it.” An understanding of my current work is facilitated by thinking of the computer screen as a field rather than as the more conventional “desktop.” The resolution of this field is defined by the pixels that compose it, in much the same way that the delineation of the grid referred to earlier is characterized by its intersections. With the early grid works, you will recall that measurements taken with mechanical instruments produced information specific to given intersections. Pixels, conversely, hold numeric information determining the color of a location defined by “x” and “y” coordinates. These caches, typically consisting of three or four numbers, can be used to define over sixteen million colors for each individual pixel.
This generous palette obviously affords tremendous expressive potential. Virtual instruments can be developed that connect to sensors in the natural environment. Since scripted structures are not hampered with the physical constraints typically suffered by mechanical systems, delicate transformations can be accomplished with this new virtual/natural dialectic. While the user interface or “field” provides a base for the implementation of these software instruments, it also accommodates as a canvas for their output. The powerful dynamic of code is that it can vacillate between being a medium of expression or the tool with which to forge it. The profound computational depth of this structure affords a new type of inquiry into the natural world. Our contemporary technology offers up changes in breathtakingly rapid proliferation; the various iterations of the smart phone over the last few years provide a good example. This is not unprecedented. There have been episodic technologically transformational periods throughout human history. Gutenberg’s movable type printing press, Galileo’s telescope, the calculus of Isaac Newton and Gottfried Leibniz, or more recently Rosalind Franklin’s X-ray diffraction photography that provided the key to solving DNA’s structural riddle are inventions that subsequently changed world views. In our own time, it is possible that even more accelerated change is eminent as objects begin to communicate with one another in what is referred to as the “Internet of Things.” The coming changes will redefine our roles with the inanimate world of machines. Such innovations might be useful in beginning to understand things that have previously remained beyond our grasp. I am hopeful that with these emerging techniques and conscientious effort a new level of art might also be attainable.
Trio / Operational Descriptions Trio, consisting of work created fifteen years ago, has stirred within me reflections of earlier times. The grid structure used in scientific data visualization tasks forms a perfect checkerboard-like pattern when observed from above. From the side, however, the squares morphed into askew shapes, almost as though extruded “through the looking glass.” At this stage my artistic process was exploration pure and simple, driven by curiosity and not much different from a kid perusing a new playground.
The three instrument systems in Trio each consist of sensors, logic embedded in microprocessors and actuators, as well as the acoustic instruments themselves. Externally located wind vanes and anemometers provide information about the wind’s velocity and direction to the microprocessors. They in turn, direct the actions of the stepper motors and solenoids that play the acoustic instruments. The sounds you hear are not intended as music, but as a transformation of wind energy into a different form—an aural encoding of wind.
Renowind / 1998 (Drum Instrument) The late celebrated physicist and teacher, Richard Feynman, once stated that the only thing that can be truly understood is the thing you can make. The instruments in this exhibition have been created in that spirit: “. . . to make a logical, easily understood mechanical system and place it in contact with a chaotic, hard-tocomprehend system in hope of gaining a better appreciation of the latter through the interaction.” In this case the wind interacts with a drum system. The octagonal shape of the drum is designed to present a side to each of the four cardinal directions as well as the intermediaries. Eight timpani mallets are controlled by solenoids attached to stepper motors. Information from an anemometer and wind vane on the museum’s roof is delivered to a programmed chip within the drum and precipitates the action of the mallets on the rawhide drum head. In operation, the two mallets opposite each other that are not active indicate the wind’s path. The remaining six mallets create a continuous cadence. As wind speed increases, the mallets swivel so that they strike closer toward the center of the drum, producing deeper tones. They also produce a louder, more rapid rhythm. Each mallet varies in hardness from its companions. In addition, small percussive components are attached to the drumsticks so that every change in wind direction correlates to a subtle unique percussive signature. A set of chimes indicates changes in the wind’s velocity while directional shifts intonate a soft gong inside the drum. In addition, the rotational beating of the mallets can be seen to shift from clockwise to counterclockwise or vice versa as the wind changes direction.
Horizon (Songline) Translator 1999 (Flute Instrument)
The incorporation of three separate instruments in this exhibition accords treatment of the various subtleties wind pronounces, including direction, velocity, and turbulence in its flow over the landscape. These natural elements produce instructions, a score which the instruments sense electronically, manifest kinetically, and express acoustically. It is the marriage of a logical system with persistent and seemingly chaotic natural phenomena. The composition is a time and site-specific aural interpretation of place as directed by the dynamics of wind. The flute instrument announces the directional shifting of the wind; it is silent if the wind’s heading is constant. This instrument also differs from the other two in that it incorporates a physical score. The tones the flutes emit are derived from the landscape. From a circle drawn on a topographic map with its center at Missoula and a radius extending to Bonner, elevations were extracted from sixty equidistant points around the circumference. The elevations were then incorporated to vertically adjust the slides within the instrument’s brass tubes. The flute ring mirrors the undulating configuration of the landscape’s form. The length that each slide extends from its companion tube imparts a unique potential tone. The full ring of flutes thereby provides an auditory pattern that facilitates aural transformation of the local area’s topography. The selection of which tube is to play at any moment is determined by the wind’s direction. A pronounced shift results in an arpeggio that defines a specific vista. The instrument, in essence, presents a score extracted from the land that awaits activation by the wind.
Puget Sound Table / 1999 (String Instrument) Wind, the movement of the fluid medium within which we live, is a constant of our experience. Even on seemingly calm days we sense air movement from temperature variations felt on our skin. We are actually quite sensitive to it; swing a bare arm and you’ll notice that the leading side will feel cooler than the trailing. Obviously air movement at higher velocities affects us in more dramatic ways, hurricanes and tornadoes being extreme examples. The essential issue, however, is that we live in a vast, not very dense, vaporous sea. We are so accustomed to it that we pay little attention until its current becomes intense or changes either in temperature or direction. These instruments were created to pry more deeply into the nature of the wind. What we know influences how we see. Being able to see things from a different perspective changes what we know. The hope that something new might be gained is the rationale for this instrument ensemble.
The sound table consists of a square resonator fitted with stringed arms radiating from its corners. It responds to the speed and direction of the wind. As the velocity of the wind increases the instrument’s pitch rises accordingly. This is accomplished by motor-driven slides, which press down on the strings and move with a linear fret-like motion. That movement is orchestrated by information fed from an anemometer and wind vane to a microchip. The arms, which are oriented in a north/south/ east/west configuration, activate in response to wind direction. If, for instance, the wind is blowing from the south, the strings on the south arm are strummed. If, on the other hand, airflow is from the southwest, both the south and west arms will produce tones simultaneously. The strings of each arm are tuned individually. This design facilitates aural as well as visual determination of the wind’s direction and speed.
Curator’s Comments / Stephen Glueckert The Missoula Art Museum is grateful to Billings, MT art collectors and connoisseurs John and Carol Green for selecting the MAM Permanent Collection as the home for the three important and vital works that make up Trio. The Greens are passionate supporters of Montana artists. Concerned that too many artworks by Montana’s best and brightest artists were leaving for out-of-state museums and private collections, the Greens have made a focused effort to ensure that significant works of contemporary ceramics, painting, and sculpture remain in Montana, available for the enjoyment of Montanans. The Greens acquired Renowind directly from Patrick Zentz. The artwork had recently returned to his ranch following an exhibit in Reno, NV, and he installed it in a steel silo where the Greens had the opportunity to see the drumming in action. The look of the sculpture was of primary importance, but the drumming activity that translated the winds outside was an extra fascination to the two collectors. Renowind was next shown at Suyama Space in Seattle in 1999, along with its soonto-be-collected siblings. The Greens believed all three kinetic sculptures should remain together as a Trio. The Greens selected MAM as Trio’s home because the artwork filled an absence in the collection of a significant work by a significant Montana artist and a one-time student at the University of Montana. In addition, MAM had the interest and the space to give Trio the attention it deserves. MAM is deeply grateful to the Greens for selecting our permanent collection as the home for these innovative artworks.
Biography Inhabitants of the Big Sky state have a deep love for the landscape, yet Patrick Zentz’s response to the landscape is anything but romantic or transcendental. Rather, his work scientifically translates the natural phenomena of temperature and wind and silence and stillness. Indeed it is through Zentz that the connections between science and art blur and call attention to the fact that in an organic way they are one and the same. Patrick Zentz has spent his career translating environmental phenomena into extraordinarily poetic, kinetic, and informative sculptures. Raised on a cattle ranch near Laurel, MT, he initially intended to pursue a career as a doctor. While studying biology at Westmont College in Santa Barbara, CA, Zentz realized he was not as interested in studying life forms as he was studying the interactions between life forms. To Zentz, art was the ideal way to explore this vein of
thought, and he returned to Montana to study sculpture, earning an MFA from the University of Montana in 1974. Soon after, he bought the ranch next door to the one he grew up on and settled into the dual career of rancher and artist. Zentz interprets the relationship between today’s mechanized farming operation and the land as one where “farmers act on nature with their machines.” He inverts this relationship in his art to explore the ways nature impacts machinery. In an interview with the Seattle Times, he explained: “Basically, the environment has always fascinated me. I grew up in the range lands of Montana and it’s a haunting place. So in my art, I was intrigued by the notion of translation, the idea of taking natural phenomena, putting it through a mechanism, a logical system, and then ending up with a different apprehension of the phenomena.”
The Patrick Zentz: Trio exhibition, catalog and video were produced by the Missoula Art Museum and funded with generous grants from Paul G. Allen Family Foundation and the Pleiades Foundation.
Published by the Missoula Art Museum 335 N. Pattee, Missoula, MT 59802 The Missoula Art Museum is an accredited member of the American Alliance of Museums. Copyright Š 2015 by the Missoula Art Museum