Cordell Taylor’s “Point of Transition” at the Dumke Arts Plaza in Ogden. Image by Geoff Wichert.

In Europe, art enthusiasts occasionally come across dismantled fragments of some major, long-gone work of art in a museum or gallery. Often these are surviving parts of some noteworthy, even famous architectural commission from a building that was subsequently damaged in war or otherwise demolished. This might include the corner pendentives of a painted ceiling, for example, hung high in the gallery in order to help in the mental reconstruction of what they might have looked like when in their glory. To see one of Cordell Taylor’s occasional gallery exhibitions bears a certain analogy to this experience. This is because Taylor’s abstract sculptures can be appreciated in the absence of context, like a model held in the hand, even when they are full-sized, but it’s worth recalling that they achieve their best effects when seen in a place and space they were intended and designed to occupy and respond to.

Such thoughts inevitably come to mind when walking around and through Points of Transition, Taylor’s current installation of five medium-to-large works, outdoors in the snow and under winter skies in Ogden’s Dumke Arts Plaza, adjacent to the OCA complex. Although some effort is required of the audience, this project allows the alert and willing viewer to visually juxtapose the Taylors with their temporary settings, which range from meandering sidewalks and railings to surrounding, sky-gobbling towers and decaying brick walls. While none of these effects were envisioned in advance by the artist, they do contribute a new element: the opportunity to create one’s own accidental collaborations between the sculpture and its surroundings.

Seven years ago, when Taylor showed substantial parts of his past, present, and future art in the City Library (see here), one of the exciting innovations was his departure from the long-established choice to close off the box-like, component parts that are assembled to create so much David Smith-influenced modern sculpture. By abandoning this informal but much-honored rule, he opened up the interiors of some or all the sections of some of his works, making them less massive and more intricate. What was a simple change in 2018 has become more elaborate since, as will be seen in several instances at the Plaza—works that function as though the lower part doubles as a pedestal for the upper element, which can be seen both into and through to view things near and far. This arrangement calls attention to Taylor’s desire for natural scenery to be framed and modified by interaction with his sculpted segments.

A convention of art history holds that the Greeks, who initially took their ideas about sculpture from Egyptian figures that they quickly and disdainfully set out to improve upon, focused largely on finding ways to draw viewers all the way around their cast or carved images. While effectively all of Taylor’s works invite such total exploration, his openwork style draws us into them as well, making them among the more truly Contemporary abstract sculptures. It should be noted, though, that this purpose differs from that of the massive, stacked and interlocking boxes he continues to make. The two open sculptures here are set out low in the Plaza, to be encountered up close and seen intimately on the path while ascending. As the high point is approached, a panorama of three works, the tallest in the center with a lower work on either side, becomes increasingly visible. This landscape—portrait—landscape arrangement makes sense, given the level grading of the highest portion of the Plaza. Had the artist been consulted on a permanent array, a different arrangement, one on a path that continued to climb along with a low, medium, and tall trio might have created a different emotional climax.

The Dumke Arts Plaza presents both unusual opportunities and challenges to artists who show there. For Cordell Taylor, it’s a chance to present a group of works in an outdoor setting in a variety of surroundings. He has always seemed interested in trying the gamut of possible locations for his sophisticated works, with their strong cerebral appeal. Considering how his work changed in response to the Library show, it will be worth watching to see what effect this experience may have.

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After the above had appeared in 15 Bytes, I learned to my chagrin that I’d only seen half the installation. I’ve always approached the Dumke Plaza from the nearby arts building, from which point the dramatic narrative of arriving at the lowest point, then ascending a climbing path through shrubs to the open space at the top, where three of Cordell Taylor’s sculptures currently stand together, makes sense. But what I didn’t know is that the tilted concrete slab that makes this possible also forms a lower plaza beneath itself, a kind of cave only visible from the street side. It’s here that Taylor completes, or perhaps begins, his installation of seven iron sculptures.

As for the pieces I missed, both depart in subtle, though compelling ways from the familiar ways Taylor’s art influences the proprioception and kinesthesia of the viewer. These are elaborate forms of feedback from the body to the brain: the former tells it where the body is and the latter reports on its movements, and like everything else in our awareness, vision plays a powerful part in them both. Generally, a Cordell Taylor is compact, unified, and full of calm, potential energy. It stands apart from its surroundings and, while apparently solid, reveals the possibility of its integral elements coming apart. The more familiar of the two works I missed stands on three elements, or “legs,” which each support two symmetrical assemblies: each a relatively thin square that touches a taller, more robust piece that, in turn, penetrates the taller, central leg. The point where these two parts are held by the center leg is the focus of the piece, the place where the potential exists for them to rotate apart. As viewers feel this in their  bodies, this complicated, three-dimensional puzzle coexists with the sense that the complex forces created by gravity are eloquently balanced.

The other piece is remarkable for being a single “stack,” metaphorically like a totem pole, that resembles the arrangement of the viewer’s own body and, in an essential way, has only one dimension: its height. Taylor is a prolific artist and I can’t claim to have seen all his works, but this one is unique in my memory. Seeing it in front of the looming slab that supports the upper plaza, it seems to stand like a tent pole and to carry the architectural weight one feels, probably unconsciously, but senses nonetheless.

Just how this portion of Points of Transition relates to the five works ascending the upper plaza may be something for individual viewers to decide for themselves. It’s worth noting that they are set up in line with the striped deck on which they stand, and like the works on the upper level, can be seen from front or back, which markedly changes their relative sizes. In photos, these sculptures are abstractions, but in person they are real objects, not pictures of them, and in collaboration with their audience, write their own rules.

Cordell Taylor: Point of Transition, Dumke Arts Plaza, Ogden, through April 30.

Geoff Wichert

Geoff Wichert objects to the term critic. He would rather be thought of as a advocate on behalf of those he writes about.