A Vision In White

A Vision in White views Michelle Obama through the lens of recent media coverage, capturing both her splendor and the limitations of its gaze. By distilling the media’s portrayal of Michelle Obama down to her most discussed features, this piece reveals the ways in which her national portrait remains partial and fragmented. What is visible points to what is invisible, ultimately showing how Michelle Obama, as a whole person, is publicly reduced into mere parts. A Vision in White underscores intersections and overlaps between power, race, and gender in American culture.

For CONTEXT:

When the term “First Lady” is used apolitically, it describes a woman with an exceptional level of talent in a particular field (Aretha Franklin has been honored as “The First Lady of Soul”; Madonna is the “First Lady of Pop”). The First Lady of the United States of America, conversely, earns her title through her husband’s election. Stars in entertainment are celebrated for their unique gifts, while a First Lady is appreciated for her ability to assimilate into a role nearly identical to that of the woman who preceded her. She is championed as a wife, mother, hostess, and volunteer. It is the First Lady’s ability to adopt this persona that is key to her legacy: her dedication to politically non-divisive causes, ability to organize and attend ceremonies, and of course, to look good doing it all.

The few who have defied the prescribed role of First Lady by remaining meaningfully employed or by voicing their political views have faced intense public scrutiny. Interestingly, these “unladylike” activities have drawn attention to the First Lady as a cultural gague for historical shifts—and at times transgressions—in normative gender roles.  Over sixty percent of women in the U.S. are currently employed, a fact which would lead one to think that a professional First Lady would be celebrated in the White House—yet the nation let out a sigh of relief after the 2008 presidential election when Michelle Obama traded in her legal practice for designer fashions and the fight against childhood obesity.

Like a majority of Americans, I was excited to see Michelle Obama become First Lady in 2009. Obama, a black lawyer from Chicago, in many ways embodied an ideal portrait of the American dream. From her blue-collar upbringing to her graduation from Princeton, Obama was a bold choice for First Lady. Campaign interviews revealed her to be both articulate and driven.  She framed her marriage as a partnership, and her children as her greatest responsibility. Doubts about her ability to put aside her professional ambitions to assume the role of First Lady were quickly put to rest in the first term. During her celebrated tenure, it has become clear that Michelle Obama holds a specific cultural significance, unlike any other First Lady. Not only is she the first woman of color to become First Lady, she has become emblematic of America’s struggle to negotiate issues of race, power, and gender.

Cultural tensions have been visible in the media. For decades a First Lady’s fashion has been part of the inaugural blitz, but in early 2009, media outlets began reporting sightings of Obama’s arms, referring to them as the “Gun Show.” This unprecedented focus on her body crossed an unspoken line of civility; a president’s wife was being freely objectified by the media. Comparing the treatment of other First Ladies during their time in office makes this difference even more pronounced: Kennedy was celebrated as a fashion icon; Clinton for her many fashion faux pas; yet news coverage of the designers Obama wears runs second to how her figure looks in the clothes.

Mainstream media discourse suggests that the American public is both mesmerized by and terrified of Obama’s strength and beauty. It is as if our nation is transfixed with the otherness of this First Lady of color. The convergence of the role of First Lady and the black female body have evoked a form of overt, sexual objectification never before directed at the office of First Lady. This focus on Obama’s body has sexualized what has been a historically sexless role encouraging a type of “parts and pieces” dialogue reminiscent of both auction blocks and meat markets in this nation’s not-so-distant past.

While some backlash against The Administration is expected in any presidency, the level of sexism and racism directed at this First Lady by men in power is astonishing. Attempts to overshadow Obama’s extensive education, professional experience, and value as a human being further reflect the unique struggle this First Lady has faced in overcoming social and cultural prejudice.

RELATED WORKS:

A Vision in White is part of an evolving series of artworks I have made over the past five years that explore the cultural intersections of the role of First Lady in contemporary society. As national role models, the ways in which each presidential wife negotiates the issues of marriage, identity, and power have historically correlated with normative gender trends for women and girls in the United States. Mrs. President, a piece I made in 2009, engages the obscurity of what it is to become a historical figure through marriage.  This piece features silhouettes of each first lady’s head with her corresponding husband drawn on top. The Great American Bake-Off features cross-stitched portraits of the 2008 democratic candidates’ spouses framed in bakeware. This piece focuses on the cultural interplay of gender, race, and domesticity that permeated political discourse during this historic election. To see more of these and my other works please visit my site.

While making A Vision in White, two sculptures continued to resurface in my thoughts: Fragments of a Queen’s Face, from the 18th Dynasty of the Amarna Period of ancient Egypt, and Claes Oldenburg’s London Knees, 1966.

A Vision in White draws from the formal arrangement of these works, as well as from their aesthetic, which is both minimal and refined. From the jasper lips, I drew inspiration to create a likeness of Obama that was well crafted and reflective of her beauty. Casting the arms out of glass not only gave them a diaphanous quality, but also created a resonance with sculpture from the Classical period in ancient Greece and Rome, as did the draping of cloth across the armature that forms Obama’s invisible body.

A Vision in White and London Knees share the use of a hem line to delineate what part of the body is represented in the sculpture.  Similarly, they speak to a moment in the fashion continuum. What is true of Fragment of a Queen’s Face, London Knees and A Vision in White is that they are all informed by what is missing.  It is by recognizing what is not there that each portrait becomes whole.

Other artists who also make great work about the First Ladies worth checking out: Martha Wilson, Jean-Pierre Khazem, and Sarah Ferguson.

PROCESS IMAGES:

The slideshow below details the steps taken to create this artwork. Descriptive text narrating the process is available when viewing on a tablet or computer.

Working with model Martina Igberaese Cole in Memphis, TN

I took four alginate molds of her upper and lower arms.

After the alginate had set, I applied plaster bandage.

The bandage is used to maintain the shape of arm.

The next step was to create plaster positives.

After the plaster set, the bandaging and alginate were peeled away.

Plaster arms!

Back in Milwaukee, figured out the volume of glass to be ordered.

Then I started to shape the plaster castings.

Mended fingers.

I used oil clay to match the musculature of the arms.

Preparations for making a silicone mold.

After choosing the parting lines, I blocked up the base with oil clay.

The grooves and indentations in the clay create keys in the silicone.

The first detail coat of rubber and a sheet of silicone keys.

The second coat with the keys separated.

The third and final coat with keys embedded.

Next I created a parting line for the first part of the plaster mother-mold.

The mother-mold maintains the form of the object, as the rubber layer is quite thin.

Silicone keys lock into the plaster creating accurate mold registration.

This process was repeated for the other forearm and the two upper arms.

Silicone mold with wax positive.

Victory brown wax is the standard for lost-wax casting processes.

It’s a relatively hard wax that softens nicely with a little heat for sculpting by hand.

Attaching the upper and lower arms.

I sculpted and worked the surface of the waxes until they looked right.

The next step required investing the waxes in traditional investment.

The gating system was designed at a slight decline so glass would flow to the fingers.

Blocking up the main gate with wet clay.

As a rule, liquid follows the path of air, so the fingers were gated to increase their chances of casting.

Two wax arms in 200 pounds of plaster and silica flour.

Next came deinvesting the wax from the investment mold.

Deinvesting wax is done in various ways depending on the casting process.

For this type of mold hot steam is used to melt out the wax.

Investment mold without wax.

Then the mold is rinsed out with boiling water.

This removes any extra wax residue that could have stayed in the mold.

To err on the safe side, a coat of plaster and grog with drywall mesh were added to the mold.

Now they were ready to go, and just under 130 pounds each.

Casting glass comes in billets. This is the brown topaz from Bullseye.

Scoring and breaking.

Each mold was packed with glass.

Then additional charges of glass were placed on top in terra cotta pots.

One kiln held the investments.

The other held more glass for reloading the charges.

The kiln with the investments heat to 1550 degrees. The kiln with extra glass heats to 900.

Flowing glass.

Looking to see the level of the glass in the mold.

Rechecking the mental checklist.

Loading glass.

Closing the kiln between bursts of heat.

Rapid cooling of the billet causes it to crack during transfer.

It took 5 rounds of reloading the pots before the molds were full.

Heat = Adrenaline = Happy

My impression of a baked potato (with tongs).

After 128 hours of annealing, the molds were ready to be deinvested.

Deinvesting glass castings is a slow and careful process.

It’s as close to archeology as I think I’ll ever get.

Successful elbow.

Fingers!!!

Halfway there.

Ten hours and one garbage can full later, I had two glass arms with all ten fingers.

This is what flashing looks like. Once the plaster investment reaches 212 degrees, it begins to fissure.

Flashing is easily removed with tools.

Dremel, diamond bits and water do the trick.

Flashing free.

Cutting off the gating system was by far the most terrifying part of the process.

Thankfully Matt Piepenbrok was there for every blood curdling moment.

Using a wet masonry grinder, I removed the remaining chunks of the gate.

Then I sculpted the musculature back in.

Arms sandblasted to a uniform surface.

Lastly, the arms were rubbed down with a finishing oil.

Their translucency changes depending on the density of the glass.

Meanwhile, back in Milwaukee…

Brian Nigus was assembling the design for the base.

Here it is roughed out before paint.

Eric Bailles met me at the gallery as soon as the piece was installed for the photoshoot.

Zip-tying cameras to ladders.

A Vision in White took approximately 400 hours to produce over the course of four months in three cities.

THANKS:

Many thanks to Martina Igerbraese-Cole, Angela Caldera, Jill Sebastian, Steve Feren, Matt Pipenbrok, Brian Nigus, Qiang Liu, Rory Erler and Mary Hoffman for the various ways you helped to make this piece happen. This portrait is a success thanks to you and your generous lending of time and knowledge. Thank you to Lea Johnson, Ginny Johnson, and Brandi Rogers for being my faithful editors. Your eyes and ears are invaluable. And thank you to Eric Baileys for the beautiful photographs as always.