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Lot Essay
“I’m drawn to objects that have a certain feeling to them so that you can see they were made by a human being who thought in a certain way …” – Judy Kensley McKie
Judy McKie once said, “It’s very difficult to be simple.” Over the years at Pritam & Eames we’ve observed reactions to her work by those who walked through the gallery door, not just the connoisseurs and collectors but the truck drivers who, after delivering her bronze work, would step back and smile in appreciation of what they saw or the children who squealed in delight when the marble Polar Bear seemed to grin back at them.
She talks about the place she goes to where the ideas begin to form. A questioner asks, “How do you direct yourself to that place? Is it unconscious?” McKie replies, “No, no. I have to think about it because if I’m not careful, I can let myself slide into the other thing which is too easy. So I have to draw a lot and not worry about making things that look right, but only to draw in the most exaggerated way to get to an idea. When I start, my ideas are quite predictable and then what happens is that by gradually allowing myself to sink into a more receptive frame of mind, I enter a place where, it’s not a dream state, but it’s a mysterious place. Each drawing allows me to let go a little more and sink a little deeper into what I would describe as the bottom of the pond. I don’t let go easily, so it takes a while to get there. The longer I draw, the closer I get to that place. Now when I get there, the idea looks simpler and simpler. It is more truthful.”
Each of the McKie pieces here illustrate the kind of material she draws upon to get at the idea she’s after, but it’s the strong, though deceptive, simplicity of her work that draws you in. She’s after a feeling in her furniture rather than a defined concept. McKie says, “I’m drawn to objects that have a certain feeling to them so that you can see they were made by a human being who thought a certain way as, for example, the person who carved the small Pennsylvania Dutch box with a daughter’s name on it.” McKie’s work can evoke the directness of an Inuit carving or Sumerian relics, the strength of her work derives much from its considered simplicity and a feel for the primitive.
There is, for example, the almost painful beauty of the once-done Bird Chair rendered in Alaskan cedar and milk paint that McKie made for her fifth solo show at Pritam & Eames in 1997. The artist admits the cedar was difficult to handle because the laminations kept oozing but the painting of the Bird Chair came easily enough, simply, like a once-done watercolor.
Another chair, another form, this time the Monkey Chair in bronze and walnut. The Monkey Chair was the scene-stealer in McKie’s fourth solo show in 1994 at Pritam & Eames. This was the first time she used metal and wood in the same piece, a combination she would not repeat until 2004. Like her other strong bronze work, there is an ambiguity, an undercurrent, to the Monkey Chair. When you sit in the Chair, you feel empowered as if seated on a throne. However, when approaching the chair, it’s not at all clear whether the monkeys are, in fact, friendly or not. In this sense; they are true guardians. The full extent of the animal extends to the backrest as the two monkeys’ tails curl into each other to offer support for the sitter. Once again, the viewer is assured of the monkeys’ presence.
Although some associate Judy McKie’s furniture only with animal, bird or fish imagery, her work in abstract pattern, whether carved or painted, is vast and goes back as far as the more familiar imagery. The Sideboard with Greenery was the calmest piece in that 1994 show and it was just that: a fine example of McKie’s practical nature and her gift as a pattern maker and colorist. About the Sideboard, she said, “Until I started putting the images on the front, it was just a green cabinet. I knew the color was right, I knew the proportions were right, but I didn’t know whether the design would work.
Sometimes you put those lines on but the way the wood comes through, makes the color all wrong. You know you are going to go back and repaint the cabinet or make the lines deeper because it’s not giving the overall feeling you are after until you’ve done that.”
Although she designed the Lizard Column (1989) as a plant stand, McKie thought it worked better with greenery around it rather than on it. As such, it has totemic presence and functions beautifully as a quiet garden sculpture. It was first carved in plaster and then cast in bronze. The edition size of the Lizard Column was 20.
Because of its timeless quality, Judy McKie’s work moves effortlessly between the restrictive boundaries of sculpture and furniture. Her work is playful, yet cerebral: it offers tangible proof of what can be achieved by capturing the idea.
– Bebe Pritam Johnson, founder and partner of premiere gallery to represent the artist, Pritam & Eames, New York
Judy McKie once said, “It’s very difficult to be simple.” Over the years at Pritam & Eames we’ve observed reactions to her work by those who walked through the gallery door, not just the connoisseurs and collectors but the truck drivers who, after delivering her bronze work, would step back and smile in appreciation of what they saw or the children who squealed in delight when the marble Polar Bear seemed to grin back at them.
She talks about the place she goes to where the ideas begin to form. A questioner asks, “How do you direct yourself to that place? Is it unconscious?” McKie replies, “No, no. I have to think about it because if I’m not careful, I can let myself slide into the other thing which is too easy. So I have to draw a lot and not worry about making things that look right, but only to draw in the most exaggerated way to get to an idea. When I start, my ideas are quite predictable and then what happens is that by gradually allowing myself to sink into a more receptive frame of mind, I enter a place where, it’s not a dream state, but it’s a mysterious place. Each drawing allows me to let go a little more and sink a little deeper into what I would describe as the bottom of the pond. I don’t let go easily, so it takes a while to get there. The longer I draw, the closer I get to that place. Now when I get there, the idea looks simpler and simpler. It is more truthful.”
Each of the McKie pieces here illustrate the kind of material she draws upon to get at the idea she’s after, but it’s the strong, though deceptive, simplicity of her work that draws you in. She’s after a feeling in her furniture rather than a defined concept. McKie says, “I’m drawn to objects that have a certain feeling to them so that you can see they were made by a human being who thought a certain way as, for example, the person who carved the small Pennsylvania Dutch box with a daughter’s name on it.” McKie’s work can evoke the directness of an Inuit carving or Sumerian relics, the strength of her work derives much from its considered simplicity and a feel for the primitive.
There is, for example, the almost painful beauty of the once-done Bird Chair rendered in Alaskan cedar and milk paint that McKie made for her fifth solo show at Pritam & Eames in 1997. The artist admits the cedar was difficult to handle because the laminations kept oozing but the painting of the Bird Chair came easily enough, simply, like a once-done watercolor.
Another chair, another form, this time the Monkey Chair in bronze and walnut. The Monkey Chair was the scene-stealer in McKie’s fourth solo show in 1994 at Pritam & Eames. This was the first time she used metal and wood in the same piece, a combination she would not repeat until 2004. Like her other strong bronze work, there is an ambiguity, an undercurrent, to the Monkey Chair. When you sit in the Chair, you feel empowered as if seated on a throne. However, when approaching the chair, it’s not at all clear whether the monkeys are, in fact, friendly or not. In this sense; they are true guardians. The full extent of the animal extends to the backrest as the two monkeys’ tails curl into each other to offer support for the sitter. Once again, the viewer is assured of the monkeys’ presence.
Although some associate Judy McKie’s furniture only with animal, bird or fish imagery, her work in abstract pattern, whether carved or painted, is vast and goes back as far as the more familiar imagery. The Sideboard with Greenery was the calmest piece in that 1994 show and it was just that: a fine example of McKie’s practical nature and her gift as a pattern maker and colorist. About the Sideboard, she said, “Until I started putting the images on the front, it was just a green cabinet. I knew the color was right, I knew the proportions were right, but I didn’t know whether the design would work.
Sometimes you put those lines on but the way the wood comes through, makes the color all wrong. You know you are going to go back and repaint the cabinet or make the lines deeper because it’s not giving the overall feeling you are after until you’ve done that.”
Although she designed the Lizard Column (1989) as a plant stand, McKie thought it worked better with greenery around it rather than on it. As such, it has totemic presence and functions beautifully as a quiet garden sculpture. It was first carved in plaster and then cast in bronze. The edition size of the Lizard Column was 20.
Because of its timeless quality, Judy McKie’s work moves effortlessly between the restrictive boundaries of sculpture and furniture. Her work is playful, yet cerebral: it offers tangible proof of what can be achieved by capturing the idea.
– Bebe Pritam Johnson, founder and partner of premiere gallery to represent the artist, Pritam & Eames, New York