ON the ground floor and in the West Wing Gallery of the Vargas Museum in University of the Philippines Diliman are displayed a bevy of string instruments crafted from everyday objects such as stainless bowls, bicycle gears, steel pipes, spoons, forks and discards.
Lirio Salvador has been transforming these everyday objects into musical instruments since he was a teenager when meager resources hindered him from procuring a guitar.
Since then, it has become his lifelong passion. Today, Salvador and the collective Elemento produce experimental sounds with these interesting assemblages. The exhibit runs until February 25.
With their mechanical gears exposed, these assemblages are reminiscent of automata—interesting gadgets that beckon one to examine their complexity. Unlike the mechanical toys and gadgets of the 19th century which were made to excite and interest people in their ability to play by themselves, these works of art interact with the spectator in an intimate way. A spectator can create sounds from a huge instrument called Sandata ni Shiva by depressing a central knob that acts like a power switch and tapping the other parts of the instrument. Components of each work are also arranged in such a way that beautiful, ornate designs are perceivable.
While many artists have utilized found objects to create works of art, their strategies differ. Jeff Koons’s household appliances were displayed as is—without any alteration of the original form. Refusing to transform these everyday objects into “art”, he retains their original name such as New Hoover Deluxe Shampoo Polisher. By doing so, Koons reminded the spectator of the return of the familiar object and perhaps their rule over humanity. Local artist Pete Jimenez employs a different technique by retaining and at times even enhancing the rustic quality of the objects he has found. In this way, Jimenez’s objects remind us of what WJT Mitchell said—that “the true found object never quite forgets where it came from and never quite believes in its elevation to spectacle and display.”
Salvador, on the other hand, presents found objects as polished and new, transformed from their humble origins as objects of utility, to shiny new musical instruments. The elements used in his works are not neutral like the galvanized iron and bricks used in minimal sculptures. The materials used are more content-specific—the bowls, spoons and fork were once used for eating, the gears held bicycles together, and the steel pipes were once used as part of another object. They may have had a life of their own before being used by the artist as part of these assemblages. The images conjured by these objects are, however, not heavily inflected and hardly affect our perception of the transformed objects. Their label as sandata or weapons only became meaningful when transformed from humble everyday objects to musical instruments capable of producing sounds. Some of the works are also invested with animistic features such a large scale robot with eyes, arms and legs. In Sandata ni Aze, the bicycle gears used to suggest the swell on the lower part of a cello look like the eyes of some mechanical robot. Anino ni SN also replicates a human form. Another technique employed by Salvador is the manipulation of scale and weight. Sandata ni Aze is a steel cello that evokes a heavy, industrial feel in opposition to the warm, lighter feel of a real cello made of wood. Many of the works are huge, intruding into the space of the spectator. Even the sound produced by these works creates a fissure in the plane of reality through its drone-like, ethereal quality.
These strategies create dislocations and de-familiarize the spectator’s perception of reality. The dislocation, in no way, hampers aesthetic experience for these works challenge the idea of ordinary objects and the context of their transformation into art. The works of Salvador do not overtly warn us of the implicit dangers of mechanization, as in surrealist mechanical-commodified figures where technology can be seen as constricting, even deforming. The works of Salvador appear to be more celebratory in their glorification of the ability of technology to transform everyday things into objects of beauty and pleasure. Yet, they are not a total celebration of a mechanized world. Most of the works are called sandata or weapons—Sandata ni Lirio, Sandata ng Espasyo, Sandata ni Mary Ann, Sandata ni Lirio—as a reminder that we can manipulate technology to serve our needs and that the human component is never lost in this process. They are, therefore, tools, weapons to be more precise, against the detritus of a mechanized world.
In Photo: ANINO NI SN 17, 139.5x46x16.5 cm, 2011 and SANDATA NG ESPASYO 1, sound assemblage, stainless steel
