Is the snowman an endangered species? With climate change radically altering weather patterns, conceptual artist Bruce Conkle imagines a world where the only place to experience the jolly symbol of winter innocence is in man-made captivity. His piece The Wooden Carrot, at New York’s Frosch & Portmann gallery, is part of his ongoing Captive Snowman series, which has been exploring what the domestication of the snowman would look like for over a decade.
From his public sculptures in Portland to his “Eco-Baroque” land art created with collaborator Marne Lucas on the Mongolian steppe, Conkle’s work explores the often dark edge where nature, mystery, and humanity meet. He took the time to talk to us about snowmen, magic, and climate change as he prepared for the artist’s reception this week in New York.
JAMES DEREK SAPIENZA: How did you come up with the idea for the Captive Snowman series?
BRUCE CONKLE: The captive snowmen series began a short time after I had an installation consisting of several large snowpeople that appeared to be made of wood and rocks all placed in a forest fire scene. Those figures had axes and seemed to be protecting the fire, but they did not possess the magical quality that a real snowman can have. Making a real snowman became a way of bringing that missing magic into the art.
What attracted you to exploring mysterious natural phenomenon?
Certain natural phenomenon seem like the perfect blend of science, alchemy, and magic.
What are some examples of science, alchemy, and magic blending in nature?
The way crystals are formed, for one: water, time, pressure, and minerals. Scientifically, they can say what they’re made up of, but it still doesn’t explain how these things are formed—at least not to me. Light passing through a rain drop makes a rainbow, or fire—there’s still some element of magic in all that.
How has the series evolved from the time you started to The Wooden Carrot?
When this series began in 2002, the idea of a shifting climate was definitely outside of mainstream consciousness. Some of the earlier versions had a fist-sized stone in the freezer within reach of the stick arms, positing the possibilities of an escape or deliberate suicide. More people get the concepts now and understand the darker aspects to it; the fact that human activity has radically altered the earth and also to keep this piece intact takes a lot of energy. This preservation exists somewhere between being dead and alive, and I am also taking the piss out of Damien Hirst a bit.
Based on your work abroad, are other nations more receptive to a dialogue on environmental issues and climate change than the US?
In this country ideas are often formed not by critical thinking but by the manipulation of powerful political parties, which take dictation from corporate economic entities. As a society we tend to canonize individuals by what they have, not by their actions, and the majority of role models produced using this formula for assessment are quite horrible.
How do you think art can change peoples’ attitudes about climate change and the environment?
A snowman can be cute and funny and sad all at once, but extinction is a very serious issue. I don’t pretend that looking at art will change an individual’s core beliefs, and I am pointing a finger at myself here as w
From his public sculptures in Portland to his “Eco-Baroque” land art created with collaborator Marne Lucas on the Mongolian steppe, Conkle’s work explores the often dark edge where nature, mystery, and humanity meet. He took the time to talk to us about snowmen, magic, and climate change as he prepared for the artist’s reception this week in New York.
JAMES DEREK SAPIENZA: How did you come up with the idea for the Captive Snowman series?
BRUCE CONKLE: The captive snowmen series began a short time after I had an installation consisting of several large snowpeople that appeared to be made of wood and rocks all placed in a forest fire scene. Those figures had axes and seemed to be protecting the fire, but they did not possess the magical quality that a real snowman can have. Making a real snowman became a way of bringing that missing magic into the art.
What attracted you to exploring mysterious natural phenomenon?
Certain natural phenomenon seem like the perfect blend of science, alchemy, and magic.
What are some examples of science, alchemy, and magic blending in nature?
The way crystals are formed, for one: water, time, pressure, and minerals. Scientifically, they can say what they’re made up of, but it still doesn’t explain how these things are formed—at least not to me. Light passing through a rain drop makes a rainbow, or fire—there’s still some element of magic in all that.
How has the series evolved from the time you started to The Wooden Carrot?
When this series began in 2002, the idea of a shifting climate was definitely outside of mainstream consciousness. Some of the earlier versions had a fist-sized stone in the freezer within reach of the stick arms, positing the possibilities of an escape or deliberate suicide. More people get the concepts now and understand the darker aspects to it; the fact that human activity has radically altered the earth and also to keep this piece intact takes a lot of energy. This preservation exists somewhere between being dead and alive, and I am also taking the piss out of Damien Hirst a bit.
Based on your work abroad, are other nations more receptive to a dialogue on environmental issues and climate change than the US?
In this country ideas are often formed not by critical thinking but by the manipulation of powerful political parties, which take dictation from corporate economic entities. As a society we tend to canonize individuals by what they have, not by their actions, and the majority of role models produced using this formula for assessment are quite horrible.
How do you think art can change peoples’ attitudes about climate change and the environment?
A snowman can be cute and funny and sad all at once, but extinction is a very serious issue. I don’t pretend that looking at art will change an individual’s core beliefs, and I am pointing a finger at myself here as w