True beauty is in the soul of the beholder. Finding enchantment in things ignored, forgotten and fleeting, Joseph Cornell captured the “beauty of the commonplace” in treasure boxes, collages and other creations from the 1930s to his death in 1972.
You can behold 177 of his mind-tingling musings in “Joseph Cornell: Navigating the Imagination,” which debuted Friday at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.
“Penny Arcade,” “Interplanetary Navigation,” “Medici Slot Machine,” “A Swan Lake for Tamara Toumanova”… Cornell’s glass-front box worlds are even more exotic and hypnotic than their descriptors. To keep you afloat in this riptide of fascination, here’s a user’s guide to the show:
» Don’t peg the pieces as dreamlike, nostalgic, sentimental, naive, or folk art. Such labels mislead and misrepresent. While self-taught, Cornell approached his work with deliberation and mature passion.
“Childlike” comparisons stem from his ability to view the familiar and the obscure with fresh eyes. His definition of beauty encompassed the enchanting essence of objects, concepts and people. This connoisseur of allure distilled the magic of penny-slot arcade machines, sea shells, owls, ballet, vintage “educational entertainments” kinetic and static, infinity-simulating mirrored chambers, the constellations, inventors, shopgirls and starlets.
» Think real, not surreal. While friendly with surrealists, Cornell’s symbolism is without cynicism; his intent was not to mock, but to explore and exalt. Even “Goop Joe’s Poultry Pages,” his romping parody of small-town gazettes, tempers wit with affection. Aside from “Habitat Group for a Shooting Gallery,” a bullet-shattered box whose cruel amusement park game serves as a metaphor for World War II, the fascinations run delightful rather than frightful.
Inspired by everything and everyone he encountered, the artist/urban archaeologist wandered the streets, from penny arcades to shops, in search of “sparkings” and objects to compose his marvelous mindscapes.
» Read the text labels. They reveal intriguing details about Cornell’s inspirations and devices he adapts, from Victorian toys to scientific instruments.
» Feel free to say “Wow.” Bystanders will understand. “Beehive’s” aperture gives an Alice-in-Wonderland perspective of its contents, modeled after 18th century “perpetual galleries” whose mirrored sides reflected an infinity of images. Arcade miniatures with peepholes, coin slots, chutes, ball ramps — check out the homage to Lauren Bacall. A pint-sized observatory’s changeable panels reveal astronomical phenomena. Wait, there’s more: A valise holding a dossier of a fairyland heroine, including news clips, lyrics and photographs. A trick conceptual portrait of a French inventor; a novel depiction of Pascal’s Triangle to showcase a game of chance. Cutaway dovecotes — compartmentalized birdhouse cutaways – bear unexpected contents.
“Chambers of Time” nail a sense of place as well as time, with such visual markers as laundry-slung streets (Naples) and peeling interiors. Within some reliquaries, Cornell harmonized Italian Renaissance portraits with early 20th-century arcade artifacts, set against mirrors to add depth and expose hidden dimensions.
The collection includes Cornell twists on cabinets of curiosities —fashionable before the rise of museums, these display cases represented collectors’ personal concepts of the cosmos.
In his 3-D homages and portraits, Cornell sought to abstract the essence of his subjects in an approach he described as “image-making akin to poetry.”
» Think of Cornell as short-range voyager, not a hermit. True, he spent decades in the same house on Utopian Parkway in Flushing, N.Y., caring for his crippled brother and constructing his artworks. But he frequented the streets of Manhattan to quench his thirst for culture and collect thousands of bits of ephemera. As curator Lynda Roscoe Hartigan explained, this private person clearly made his art for others, sharing the souvenirs of his flights of imagination.
» Plan on visiting this funhouse more than once. In addition to scrutinizing the boxes and reading the plaques, save time to catch displays that light up one minute each hour, “handle” select treasures via computer stations, and rest your feet in the “Movie Palace,” which continuously screens Cornell’s experimental film shorts. Thankfully, museum admission is free.
If you go
Joseph Cornell: Navigating the Imagination
» Venue: Smithsonian American Art Museum, Eighth and F streets NW
» Times: Through Feb. 19
» Info: 202-633-1000; americanart.si.edu
Related free programs
» Lecture by curator Lynda Roscoe Hartigan 3 p.m. Saturday
» Family Shadowbox Workshop 1 to 3 p.m. on Dec. 16 (preregistration required)
