Jōmon Spider Kit - Paul March  

Paul March says that the way we make use (and makes sense) of material things must be understood in a qualitatively different way from the way we make meaning using words. To try and translate the first into the second normally creates only misunderstanding. As an artist, Paul describes himself as a maker of things which “learn themselves into existence” between his hands. However, he does not see these art-works as auto-generative. Although the art-woks possess a historical or, in this case a prehistorical,  context, it is their birth that creates their prehistory, rather than the other way round. The making of  Jōmon Spider Kit presented a possible solution to the mystery of its own existence; as Paul watched the clay and his hands working away in what he refers to as the “extended mind of his workshop”, he was as puzzled as anyone by what was emerging. As the kit took form, the following story took form too: not as a translation but as a dream.  

The sad story of Jōmon Spider Kit

One night, I had a dream in which the spokesman of a large, Japanese business contacted me. He explained that, after years of economic stagnation, Japan was in crisis - its people suffering a malaise and loss of identity. Japan needed to rediscover its roots and spirit. The spokesman asked me to create an object that each Japanese family could keep in their home to help confront the future with courage and resolution.

Before continuing with the dream, I must give you two bits of background information.

First, 14,000 years ago the people of the island we call Japan, produced pots of fired clay - some of the first ceramic objects ever made. After a 7000-year apprenticeship, the people began to produce vases of such wild beauty that we can only stare at them in wonder. We call the pots and the people that made them “Jōmon”.

Second, in the garden of my childhood there lived a spider that I found very beautiful and every night she toiled to produce a beautiful web. She worked with great tenacity and, if some accident befell her web, she found the stamina and strength of character to return to the task until the web was beautiful once again.

In my dream, it became clear to me - each Japanese family must install in their home a large ceramic spider whose tenacity was drawn from the form of ancient Jōmon pots. Like the garden spider I worked day and night to produce a prototype of a spider kit to present to the Japanese company. A few weeks later I stood proudly in front of the board of directors with the spider towering above us all.

But instead of congratulating me and showing me their gratitude for having found a solution to the Japanese crisis, the members of the board reacted in a bizarre and disturbing way. First, they stared at me in open-mouthed silence for a long time – making me feel quite uncomfortable. Then, suddenly the chairman screamed at me:

“Are you completely mad? How do you think this frightening, monstrous, ugly beast can possibly save our culture?”

Without warning, all the directors set about attacking the spider which eventually fell to the ground. Satisfied with their work, they turned and stormed from the meeting room leaving me alone with my spider.

During 2013-14, the kit was installed temporarily in the basement of the Musée Ariana - the Swiss Ceramic’s Museum in Geneva. In the entrance hall, the reception staff eventually became used to the cries of fright from below as visitors were confronted by the broken body of the spider on their way to the toilets. 

You can see more of Paul March's work here and read more about the relationship between his artwork and Jōmon flame pots in Project Holocene: The Clayful Phenomenology of Jōmon Flame Pots