Elyse Pignolet, “No Gods, No Monsters” at Ogden Contemporary Art Center. Image by Geoff Wichert.

In The Second Sex, her indispensable survey of the status of women, Simone de Beauvoir dispenses with the romantic notion that once upon a time women ruled the world, pointing out that men were always larger and stronger, and a less civilized time in history than ours was unlikely to have seen them cede control to those lacking the physical power to take it. She argues instead that what should replace that fantasy is a realistic stocktaking of the world that women inhabit. Such an intimate view of life from a woman’s perspective might be assembled into a monumental vision, and that seems to be the goal of Los Angeles-based ceramics master Elyse Pignolet, whose genuinely monumental faux-kitchen installation, Good Girl, is currently holding forth in the main gallery at Ogden Contemporary Art.

The medium on which Pignolet chooses to carry out her extravaganzas is the specific style of majolica, or tin-glazed pottery, that became synonymous in the 17th century with Delft, a city in southern Holland, home of Johannes Vermeer and for a time one of the richest trading cities in the world. Although tin-glazing can use any color, Delftware is almost always blue, and the classic blue and white ornamental surface it produces can be adapted to any shape of pottery vessel, as well as to tiles covering walls, countertops, and stoves, and is really only limited by the imagination of the artist who employs it.

The term “tin-glaze” comes from the practice of covering clay with a mixture of powdered tin and a gum adhesive, producing an extremely thirsty surface, which the artist paints with a mixture of powdered glass, colorants and water. This wet glaze is instantly absorbed, stroke by stroke, into the dry tin layer, so that when the clay is fired, the color becomes integral to it—“in” rather than “on” the smooth, otherwise clean, white object. Delft blue is known for use in architecturally-scaled kitchen backbars into which are built niches and shelves that display racks of platters and vessels, all of which conspire to create the domestic impression of wealth and prosperity.

Elyse Pignolet, “The Second Sex” at Ogden Contemporary Art Center. Image by Geoff Wichert.

Pignolet does this, but she subverts the impression of a prosperous home cared for by a submissive housewife by the details she chooses to paint. The first hint to a viewer in a hurry might be the presence of loosely-brushed inscriptions resembling graffiti, the letters of which initially blend into the design over which they play. Such writing can no more be changed after being applied than the brushstrokes that make up the images, so the work must be spontaneous. Here it is often squeezed into the open spaces and may go in circles, or forward and then backwards, in order to fit. Reading the broken parts of a phrase like “When the government controls that decision for her she is being treated as less than a full human” can prove a challenge. “eithereveryoneornoone” may give the successful reader a real sense of accomplishment. Soon enough, one either gives it up or slows down. In this way, Pignolet reproduces a fact that students of gender, whether amateur or professional, will already be familiar with: women’s spaces and the things they value often receive little or no attention from visitors, especially men, who come armed with the assumption that the details of women’s lives are inherently trivial.

Delftware traditionally boasts landscapes and nautical scenes that signify both the antique city’s wealth and its tranquility. Rare examples can be quite valuable to collectors. Pignolet’s images border on the unique, and thus her labor transfers potentially great value to her subjects, which include objects of every day use that range from yoga mats, electronics, and women’s hairstyles to speculums and breast pumps. Scenes like a woman embracing a toilet while waiting to vomit contrast with a blithe inscription like “Easy on me” hanging nearby. The “adult content” notice at the gallery entrance, usually used to warn of erotic content, takes on new significance when a tile is seen to present a tube of Vagisil.

The longer a viewer looks, the more imperative it feels to keep looking, lest one miss the norm-shattering or prizewinning image that may tickle one’s fancy, or blow one’s prematurely settled and complacent mind.

Detail from Elyse Pignolet’s “The Second Sex” at Ogden Contemporary Art Center. Image by Geoff Wichert.

Detail from Elyse Pignolet’s “No Gods, No Monsters” at Ogden Contemporary Art Center. Image by Geoff Wichert.

Four-letter words are also in evidence, as are slogans from the #MeToo and Civil Rights movements. Derogatory words men apply to women make for abrupt interruptions. But enough time spent looking will reveal a more broadly-based set of verbal choices—perhaps not really selected so much as found readily at hand. These are more like notebook entries, written down as she came across or recalled them, or like the words an artist may jot down next to a portrait drawing that were spoken by the subject as the drawing took shape. It’s important to notice this because the emotional temperature here is moderate for the most. Like the color blue in a body of water, or the sky above, these are everyday events, offensive to some but no longer permitted to be disabling. Even the most dismissive terms—the “C” word and the “T” word—have after all become merely rude in places like England, where it has long been recognized that they may perfectly, justifiably refer to men as well as to women.

It’s up to the audience to decide if the accumulation of so much intimate detail into such monumental views of life is sufficient reward to justify the effort of comprehending them in their totality. As for the choice of Delft, it’s like the word “muliebrity,” as seen in the title “Muliebrity Pyramid.” Now used almost entirely in a literary context, this term for “feminine” dates back to the Romans, who worshipped domestic goddesses in the form of living wives and mothers. We can only imagine the housewives of Holland in their richly appointed kitchens, but with Pignolet’s help we can lay the pattern over our diminished present and perhaps bring into focus a view of women that doesn’t see them as lacking what men possess, but as past, present, and future vessels of human nature and its expression in real time. As one of Elyse Pignolet’s potentially overlooked phrases announces, “Ya es hora.”

It’s time.

Elyse Pignolet, “Muliebrity Pyramid” at Ogden Contemporary Art Center. Image by Geoff Wichert.

Good Girl – Elyse Pignolet, Ogden Contemporary Arts, Ogden, through April 13.

Geoff Wichert

Geoff Wichert objects to the term critic. He would rather be thought of as a advocate on behalf of those he writes about.