Futensils: Using Craft to Deconstruct Craft

The Futensils arose as a critical inquiry loosely aligned with one method of literary criticism, deconstruction. The conceptual framework for the project stems less from interest in Derrida's endless chain of signifiers and signifieds than from the linguistic model of binary oppositions that he sought to reveal through the process of deconstruction. In a nutshell, Derrida contended that definitions of what is are always made in opposition to what is not. Definitions are therefore dependent upon an excluded and repressed binary opposite. The role of deconstruction is to call attention to the exclusion, note the necessity of the devalued term, and thereby give value to it.

The work consists of a series of deconstructed silverware which are variously hinged or mechanized to fail to perform their intended functions. The bottom falls out of a spoon. A knife droops rather than cuts. The tines of a fork flap ineffectually. All pieces are laboriously forged and constructed by hand.

Can an object be deconstructed to reveal the underlying oppositional hierarchy that defines it? I contend that a fork is a conceptual construct (no less than a word) that hinges (pun intended) upon the opposition of utility and uselessness. We expect a fork to perform a certain function (piercing, shoveling). If it fails, is it not a fork or just a bad one? The average fork would be considered a product of craft rather than art. Within the world of craft, the useful is valued but, in the world of art, utility is often suspect. In much post-modern art, a highly crafted object is archaic; it's the idea that matters. Why spend time perfecting form and finish (craft) if only the idea matters?

By these underlying definitions of art and craft, this body of work is designed to fail on both counts. The work interrogates the oppositions of art/craft, utility/uselessness, idea/matter, and success/failure, revealing the dependency of the privileged term on its "opposite." The Futensils are designed to align themselves with the devalued term, to fail in ways that subvert the meaning of success.

Nevertheless, one could starve on theory alone. Language and utensils are not essential for life but the act of eating is. Still, the body and mind I sustain through this process will eventually fail me. Failure is built in. The value of this existential trap (our construction and ultimate deconstruction) lies in the meaning we build. Elaborate construction of dysfunctional utensils points to both the futility and wonder of the process itself.

The goal of my deconstruction is not only to point out the lack of definable artistic or craft values but to cultivate awareness of the act of construction. To build (thoughts, words, homes, art) knowing the inevitability of deconstruction, is a heroic act; it points to freedom.

Rebecca Scheer, 2001