At Ojai Valley Museum

Curator: Cassandra C. Jones

Graphic Design: Louise Sandhaus

Dates: Thursday, October 24 - Sunday, December 8, 2024

Artists Included: 

Joel Fox
Steve Sprinkel
Jeff Mann

Jamie Stratford
Cassandra C. Jones
Rosemary Hall

Arachne, although a mere mortal, was not without hubris and dared to challenge the goddess Athena to a weaving contest. Both were accomplished artisans, and their competition resulted in a draw. But Athena, the daughter of Zeus, was not just any goddess and was so affronted by Arachne’s audacity that she hit her with her loom shuttle and banished her. Arachne was then found hanging by the neck, and it’s not clear if this was a suicide because she soon grew eight legs, metamorphosed into a spider, and climbed up the thread. For some, she’s been the namesake of spiders, also known as arachnids, ever since.

This Greco-Roman myth is one of many that centers on spiders. In other cultures, like those in West Africa, the spider has greater agency and is a creator god, supreme deity, and hero. Where else did we acquire the Sun, Moon, Stars, and all of humankind if not from the spider, Anansi?

Spiders are used as tools of divination (Inca), symbols of the soul freed from the body (peoples of Siberia and central Asia), and they provide transport to the Underworld or they are symbols of the Underworld itself (Aztec). Hopi-origin myths embrace Spider Woman as Earth Mother. She is the partner of Tawa, the Sun God. Together, they begat all of life on Earth; all-knowing and all-giving, they, too, make their home in the Underworld.

For some, spiders are sources of fact-based fear since a few have venomous bites; for others, the fear might be more abstract and irrational, based on any number of concerns, like the myth of females cannibalizing males after copulation. Some females eat their mates, but they seem to be in the minority, and the reverse is also true. Since their webs, despite their beauty and ingenuity, are traps for their prey, this, too, might contribute to a person’s irrational fear. But for as many people who suffer from arachnophobia, there are just as many who find creative inspiration from spiders, especially regarding their skill at weaving. 

It is said that the best way of making peace with one’s fears is to face them. The artist, Cassandra C. Jones, an admitted arachnophobe, has done exactly that by both making art that spiders inspire and by curating an entire exhibit of other artist’s works that pay tribute to spiders and, especially, their beguiling and fearsome webs. In the Realm of Spiders at the Ojai Valley Museum, which runs until December 8, is, conceptually and in the quality of works on view, one of the most nuanced and sophisticated art exhibits I’ve enjoyed viewing in quite some time.

Weaving, the chosen art of Arachne and her spider progeny, has long been a metaphor for poetry. I found each of the works on view to be poetic and equally elegant in their execution as they are eloquent in their lyricism. For that matter, I was delighted to see an actual poem, Tiny Arachnid, on the wall by none other than local hero farmer-savant-author-environmentalist Steve Sprinkel! It has a melancholic sensibility that evokes an emotional side to the poet I had not yet encountered but was delighted to do so. I was also grateful that there was a stack of printed copies so I could take one home to reread and ponder more leisurely.

The works of Rosemary Hall took my breath away, followed by an avalanche of internal questions as I wondered, how did she do it? How did she get that spider silk thread to adhere to that hook, brick, or leaf? Unframed and exposed as they are, how have these works withstood the interaction of so many humans breathing on them for these past weeks? These works are so delicately rendered and fragile that their vulnerability made me anxious. In the 15 porcelain tablets entitled “Thought Lines,” there are the actual webs embedded in the surface of the clay. Fortunately, a cursory explanation of her process is provided in the wall note: the abandoned webs are sprayed with liquid iron oxide onto which Hall presses the porcelain tablet into the web, capturing its wet strands; then they are fired, and what was once a very delicate web is preserved intact. She is as much a scientist and a magician as an artist. 

Hall’s “Swarm” is a sculptural work composed of car windows hanging from a large metal structure. The windows are coated with porcelain slip, which is carefully removed to make drawings of spiders and other pollinators. The windows might be more robust as objects, but the dancing shadows they create on the wall are equally mesmerizing. After pondering her work intently, the next day, I experimented with a few spider silks in my garden. Each one broke apart as soon as I touched it, no matter how careful I was. Maybe she has more patience than I do because I quickly gave up. Or perhaps she truly is a magician.

Because of the ephemerality of the subject matter (spiders don’t live very long, nor do their webs), these artists’ memorialization of them is particularly poignant. Joel Fox’s photograph series entitled “Web Reveal” of black widow spider webs (abandoned by their makers), which he has sprayed with neon-colored paint, is gorgeous. Taken in his funky, dusty garage/workspace “studio,” the images, saturated with both shadow and color, evoke an underworld as disturbing as beautiful. The colors elucidate the geometrical patterns, the tensile strength of the webs, and the complexity of their construction, while their environment begs the question, “What else occurs in this mysterious space?” Viewing is intimate because the photographs are mounted on aluminum and framed without glass. There is no distracting glare or reflection. As I stood before each one, as with Hall’s work, I wrestled with many questions but finally succumbed to simply being enchanted.

Cassandra C. Jones’ work “Wet Web” is an enlarged image of myriad dew drops on an intricate spider web. On closer look, one discovers that each drop is, in fact, a miniature latex balloon. The shape of the balloons reminded me of teardrops, which made the work especially poignant. This gossamer-like image is rendered with such delicacy that it’s barely there. One needs to look and look again to discern its complexity and subtle beauty. As with any work of art, each viewer projects onto it a subjective response informed by their own lived experience or knowledge. Often, we can only guess an artist’s metaphorical intent and rely on wall notes to inform us of process and meaning. All of Jones’s works on view are digital collages of both mylar and latex balloons; but regardless of their simplicity or even “cuteness” at first glance, they are complex. They raise many questions about our human impact on nature and the proliferation of plastic in particular. For instance, once considered celebratory and festive balloons, they now have a profoundly insidious significance for some of us. Many states, including California, have banned the release of helium-filled balloons, and, in some places, any balloon, especially those made of mylar, which is particularly dangerous and, if trapped by overhead wires, can cause electrical blackouts and wildfires. So, as I pondered Jones’s cute spider image called “Sweet Pea,” made of photos of latex balloons, a shudder went up my spine, which I don’t think was entirely the result of my subjective projection. She knows exactly what that image signifies.

Jeff Mann’s graphite drawing entitled “Amorphophallus Titanum” is of an exotic corpse flower in bloom. Its visiting spider pollinators, accompanied by an admiring crew of a whimsical praying mantis, coiled snakes, and a bemused primate, exemplify extraordinarily skilled draftsmanship and an innate appreciation of humor co-mingled with beauty. This man knows how to draw! This particular work has so much complexity that it’s easy to get lost in the lines, whorls, and shading. As a zealous admirer of the art of drawing, I am blown away by his skill. The subject is fascinating and charming in and of itself, but its execution takes it to another level.

The exhibit ends with a series of animated shorts by Jamie Stratford featuring animated black widows as characters. Stratford is a first-grade teacher who uses her claymation in her curriculum. This series reinforces the ecological message that spiders, even potentially dangerous ones like the black widow, have personhood and purpose. We need to be cautious with them, but they should be respected, admired, and not feared. 

From ancient myths to nursery rhymes like “Itsy Bitsy Spider” to books like Charlotte’s Web to Louise Bourgeois’ iconic spider sculpture, spiders are integral to our culture in many ways. I am personally very fond of them and would never intentionally do one harm. Occasionally, a tiny daddy long-legs gets accidentally sucked up by my vacuum, and I actively grieve its demise. In the early 80s, I used to frequent the Marin Flea Market and encountered a man who owned a pet tarantula named Ramona. He was very bonded with this rather large, furry creature who traveled seemingly contentedly on his arm. I was taken with this exotic pet and even entertained the fantasy of having a pet tarantula myself. However, I’ve opted to stick with cats and dogs and instead enjoy the many spider visitors to my home and garden. In an increasingly chaotic and violent world, it feels more important than ever to live in some semblance of harmony with all creatures and, on occasion, a human or two.

I am so very grateful to Cassandra C. Jones for her gift of this exhibit, In the Realm of Spiders, to our community and to the Ojai Valley Museum, which is truly a treasure in our midst, for hosting it. I encourage everyone to visit and take the time to contemplate each exquisite work. And be sure to check out the museum’s permanent exhibit, which tells a bit about the history of this place we call Ojai. The Chumash baskets alone, with their extraordinary beauty, ingenuity of execution, and functionality, are worth the nominal price of admission.

COVER: ASCII SPIDER, 2022
ARCHIVAL DIGITAL COLLAGE ON COTTON PAPER
11" X 14"
ART CREDIT: CASSANDRA C. JONES