Wind Preservation Machine Holds Beauty

Published in FFWD Weekly on June 16, 2011 http://www.ffwdweekly.com/article/arts/visual-arts/gone-with-the-wind-7632/
 
Although the idea of characterizing people as either right-brained or left-brained is now considered over simplistic, remnants of these labels continue to haunt us. Art is considered to be predominantly a right-brain activity, grounded in the three “I’s”: intuition, improvisation and imagination. By extension, the presumption is that artists are wishy-washy, spontaneous and free-spirited.

With this in mind, one might be tempted to look at David Bynoe’s artistic concoctions and wonder whether his empirical nature would be more aptly suited to a career like engineering. As I listen to his enthusiasm while describing the “nuts and bolts” (literally and figuratively) of his latest kinetic installation, I cannot help but picture him working for a place like NASA, designing the latest prototype of a high-tech spaceship. I instantly catch myself and realize that even I, with my art education, am not impervious to thinking in such compartmentalized ways.

Bynoe seems at ease with how he has chosen to reconcile his analytical and artistic sides. While all of his art is grounded in problem solving, he takes great pleasure in the freedom his artistic license grants him.

“I’m good at giving myself a lot of room for error. I’m pretty sloppy,” he says, though the craftsmanship in his installation piece says otherwise.

The artist revels in accomplishing feats that would not likely keep the rest of us up at night, such as how to make a functional canoe that weighs under six kilograms (a canoe on the market weighs anywhere between 30 to 35 kilograms); or the premise of his current exhibition: How to emulate an elusive force like wind in a gallery, and — here is the tricky part — not have it appear too mechanical?

Machine for Preserving the Wind consists of a series of wooden pegs designed to mimic a field of wheat blowing in the wind. Each peg is attached to a cast concrete counterweight, which pivots on a base. A series of ropes attached to two cams (wheels with irregular shapes) control the structure’s movement. The ensemble is powered by a motor, one that is typically used in a household furnace. The “art” in the piece lies in Bynoe’s elegant solution to making each peg move independently of the others, resulting in an eerily realistic sensation of wind gusts.

Many variables, from how much torque is needed to move such a structure, to determining the pattern on the wheels that would allow for a 14-minute lapse without repetition, played into the sculpture’s organic effect. Insisting it is just simple math and common sense, I get instant flashbacks of my physics class as he explains the RPM input/output, reduction due to friction, additional weight due to kinetic movement — I get the sense it is far more complex than he lets on.

“The process,” he says, “is no different than problem solving through any sculpture: You start with the outcome you want and work your way backwards. Once you wrap your head around it, the design follows the function.”

Calling himself slightly anti-social, he admits he has a weird obsession with working everything out by himself. He attributes this characteristic to his training in jewelry design, which he says forces you to be picky and think everything through. Unlike other art forms, jewelry is not very forgiving.

“If you get it wrong, you have to throw it away,” he says.

To an extent, his art practise revolves around letting go of this rigidness.

“Part of it was realizing it doesn’t have to be perfect for it to work.”

Bynoe’s right brain versus left brain dichotomy extends into his daily life. By day, he does research, graphic design and mapping for his dad’s company. By night, he is eager to go from his digital, intangible creations to working with his hands and making something physical. His day job is also what has allowed him to develop his artistic voice.

“After I graduated from ACAD,” he says, “I didn’t really know what kind of art I wanted to make.”

He decided that having a day job that paid for his bills would allow him to make art that didn’t necessarily have to be commercially viable. Still, it likely wouldn’t be too difficult to sell people on a canoe that weighs not much more than their backpack.

Being in his late 20s, it is hard to say where his ingenuity will take him next, but for now, his art can serve as a reminder of the fact that while often placed on opposite sides of the spectrum, engineers and artists are not all that different: both are interested in the how’s of life and are curious observers of nature’s mysterious ways.