Monthly Statement:
April 2006

May 4 marked the opening of the next show I was in, and the soap accumulation in progress was the piece I would feature. I planned to display the collection on a low black platform, similar in dimensions to a full-sized mattress, that would be covered in black velvet. Because I had never laid all the soap out at once, I was just guessing how big to make the platform, but the width was limited to the 60” of the widest available velvet.

As for how to arrange the soap—I’ve had an urge to explore paisley designs in my work for a long time, and the soap slivers seemed like they would lend themselves well to this motif. I like paisley because it is an incredibly obsessive form—you can just add embellishment after embellishment, yet the basic shape of a paisley resembles half of the yin and yang design, which, by contrast, is so complete in its simplicity. These two designs occupy the nebulous ground between meditative and obsessive where I like my work to reside.

For inspiration, I googled “mosaic”, “mandala,” and, of course, “paisley.” All during the mere 92 minutes I spent researching online, I was mentally flagellating myself for not doing this homework more thoroughly several months ago. But I designed my piece for the preliminary Accumulation Project show last December on the fly and it turned out alright, so maybe… just maybe the purpose of this piece was to develop trust in my spontaneous intuitive process. Yeah—that excuse’ll fly!

One source I found mentioned that the shape of the paisley was derived from that of a mango, and it shared a Hindu myth that explained how the mango got its recognizable contour:

“The Monkey god Hanuman was hungry and looked up into the trees for fruit. He ate one which was a wonderful flavor, much better than all of the others. It was a mango. To make sure that all of his friends could find the same good fruit he went along and squeezed them all into this distinctive shape.”
( http://atschool.eduweb.co.uk/manorlh/hinduism/symbols.html)

Finding this story was a “Eureka!” moment for me, since the hands of the washer likewise transform a fragrant bar of soap to a distinctly different shape. And thus the title of my piece, “The Sweetest Fruit” came about long before it assumed its visual form.

Earlier in April, I needed to come up with an image for the post card for another show taking place in Philly in July at The Center For Emerging Visual Artists (see 1/06, also www.cfeva.org) and, since I intended to bring the soap piece there, I decided to photograph a mini-soap collage. I came up with a couple of arrangements I liked: one was a flower-like abstract, and the other one was a funny face (see photos). I used the abstract design for the post card, and shortly after shooting it, I realized that it was a piece in its own right and I called it simply, “Mandala.” I emailed the funny face to “Ass Soap Deputy” Jeffrey Gaidosh (see 11/06), for a laugh, and he decided it looked like a Polynesian witch doctor.
In a last-minute effort to obtain soap for the Baltimore show I did an email blast using the “Mandala” image as proof to my collaborators that something lovely would eventually come of their contributions. Whenever I have done email blasts, invariably a few people respond back:

“Hey Jill, I was thinking of you last night when I noticed a rapidly shrinking piece of bright turquoise glycerin soap,” or “it's so amazing that you wrote me, because just last night my friend was here and i was showing her our emails from a few months ago.. and said to her, "i have to go e-mail her and find out what's what with the soap installation! and then next thing i know , you write me.”

Statements like these make me feel good for many reasons, among which are:
that folks feel drawn to the Accumulation Project for the duration of its course
that they are finding a new appreciation of the potential for beauty and specialness inherent within an everyday object that they view me as a sort of art mascot, which I consider both an honor, and a hoot!

My email blast got the attention of my extraterrestrial friend and former grad-schoolmate, Judy Simons, who said she had a whole slippery slew of soaps for me that she had decorated with little sparkly stickers, fake gems and engravings while she was recovering from surgery. I told her how much I appreciated her desire to contribute something special to the piece, but I also warned her that I would likely remove any embellishments from the soap, since the project was not about making soap into art, but about making art out of soap, if that makes any sense.

And further on this score, a few people have sent slivers that are actually manufactured with surface decals or little recognizable objects embedded within them. My rule is if these decorations stand out more than the soap itself, I don’t think they work well for this particular project. Thus far, I’ve turned any decal soaps I have received over, revealing only the plain side. Of the two soaps with embeds, I eliminated the one with the silk flower, but oddly, the one with the plastic fish isn’t so obvious, so all I did was trim the exposed little bit of his dorsal fin with my nail scissors before I released him into the “school”.

Anyway, Judy and I met at an opening and she gave me a sizable box of goods. Once the glitz was removed, Judy’s soap had potential; there were some lovely colored, but little-used guest soaps, among them a pair of iridescent green shell shapes, that I wanted to use a bit more before adding them to the collection.

One of Judy’s sculpted pieces was white and didn’t call too much attention to her intentional handiwork, so after consideration, I let it slide under the radar. Another one was sooooo hideous, I instantly knew I would never use it. It had gotten waterlogged and had become so lumpy and granular that it looked like a badass cafeteria roll squeezed into a dough ball destined to knock some pasty-faced eighth grade girl upside the head. It has been relegated to the pile of soaps I have not idea what to do with. Finally, before we parted, Judy, being Judy, was kind enough to tell me that her bidet soap was among those in the box. Thanks for sharing, Judy, but from now on let’s just operate on a “need to know” basis. And I DON’T need to know what “gems” you embellished that one with, OK?

Many people wriggle squeamishly when I tell them I’m working with other people’s leftover soaps. In fact, when she read about my project months ago in the Washington Post, blogger “TINGB” commented that as much as she favored community art, my project skeeved her (see 12/05). I don’t know about you, but in my earliest years, none of this “body wash” and “shower gel” hoo-haa had hit the shelves yet. I believe that the proliferation of antibacterial soaps and liquid hand “sanitizers” in our culture ends up doing the immune systems a great injustice by denying it exposure to the nutritional cooties that are to its miraculous chemical machinery what spinach is to Popeye. (And by the way, how many of you know that the active ingredient in most of those chemical “sanitizers,” that have glutted the market, as a substitute for a sensible Ivory and warm water washing, is nonoxynol-9, a compound originally intended as a spermicide? Better sanitize your hands, ladies— you never know what kind of trouble you can get in from turning a door knob these days.) Sheesh! It’s so paranoid. A trusted and esteemed family doctor from my past once told me something I’ve never forgotten. He said: “Jill, we live in a sea of germs,” the emphasis being on the fact that we live! We exist from day to day without any inkling of the heroic battles our immune system is fighting and winning every nanosecond, with such honor, virtue, and humility: “No need for thanks, Ma’am, it’s my job!” And as far as where the soap has been, with the exception of the soap from the Milwaukee County Jail, which I sterilized, (see 12/05) I have operated under the protective assumption that once the soap is dry, all the bodily cooties shrivel up and die from lack of moisture. And even if this is untrue, my unshakable insistence on its veracity will keep me from harm.

Aside from preparations for the show, April brought about some other activity. The School 33 Art Center, where my studio is, held their annual “Lotta Art” benefit, at which patrons each select a piece of art donated by a local artist. On a whim, I showed up near the end as patrons were filing upstairs to get their art wrapped to go. I asked the wrapping volunteers if they would enclose one of my Proselytizing Cards in each package, and they kindly agreed. Then I went into my studio and moved my preliminary experiments of soap arrangements within easy eyeshot of the wide open door. I baited the trap with a friendly smile, and encouraged patrons to stop in and chat.

The most enthusiastic response I got was from a carefully-put-together middle-aged woman who was just shy of being bombed; she managed to slur out an unsolicited PRRRRRomise to start collecting slivers and to get her friends involved too. One thing I had learned from my previous experiences of proselytizing is that no mater how enthralled a person is when they hear about the project, or how committed they seem to contributing to it at that moment, once they are out of sight, there’s no telling whether or not they’ll come up with the goods.

During March and April, I sent several emails to Deputy Sheriff Jeff Gaidosh, who had remained uncharacteristically mum. Even though the prison switched to liquid soap, I assumed we would still communicate. He finally re-surfaced in a long email explaining that he had broken his ankle and had been laying low to recoup. The GOOD news, however, was that he was returning to work soon and that the prisoners were back to showering with bars (pun originally not intended, but now I kinda like it).

Another bit of really good news was that the press release I wrote as an advance for my July show in Philly, got the attention of The Philadelphia Inquirer. Yes, it helped that I had once been a photographer there for 12 years, but hell, if ya got connections, use ‘em—I mean, we can’t all have Tori Spelling’s talent!
And, as if that wasn’t bitchin’ enough news to make the month of April a success, I got the following email from Lisa Lewenz, Programs Manager at Maryland Art Place, a wonderful venue for regional artists www.mdartplace.org

“Hi Jill,
I'm hoping all is well and am interested to hear your latest news.
Meanwhile, since MAP has been occasionally exhibiting what we've vaguely called FLUSHART (in our gallery public bathroom) with a series of incredibly intimate projected videos, prints and other works. What is greatest about the venue is that, when locked inside the bathroom, visitors have an opportunity to spend time with intimate works that can truly spark intimate dialogues.
I'd love to know if you may be interested in installing/exhibiting a huge series of your slivers here? …….
…Meanwhile, sending best wishes,
Lisa”

So in the fall, the stellar cast of soap slivers hits the Big Apple, for the Accumulation Project final show, and then, after that perhaps they will return to perform a splashy number for the home-town crowd in “Flush Art.”

Feel free to email me at jillgreenberg27@hotmail.com if you wish to contribute soap slivers to the project or to send a comment.

Washington Post article available here.

Process: I will be accumulating remnants of used bars of soap by soliciting contributions through networks of friends and acquaintances. I am also looking into receiving donations through local hotels and collection boxes set up in various locales.