Syz presents Matthew Lutz-Kinoy

For the spectacular final booth of Syz art jewels Lutz-Kinoy has realized a total environment consisting of figurative marble sculptures which act as vessels for Syz art Jewelry. Large graphic faces carved from bright onyx and colored marbles are modeled by Italian artisans after the artist’s work which is originally thrown on the ceramic wheel. The masks are comprised of utilitarian forms such as cups or bowls which are then assembled into a conglomerate physical form that creates surfaces on which jewelry is placed. 

The series of works is titled A Spear of Summer Grass after the Walt Whitman poem Song of Myself,  in which Whitman elaborates musings on the connectedness of life through a meditation on a single blade of grass.  We see a cycle of transformation in the masks of Lutz-Kinoy,  from the physicality of production on the ceramic wheel to the hardening of the clay when it is fired in the kiln and finally the carving of the forms in stone. It is the representation of movement through time. This cyclical representation amassed inside of these natural materials places the idea of duration centrally to this work. As we move away from the sculptures surrounding us are drawings fixed to the walls. Images of cuddling pigs, embracing couples, and fragments of quotidian life surround us. Like the reliefs carved on the facade of the temple of Borobudur, we see our own world captured and reflected in a single stone. Further inspiration for Lutz-Kinoy is the origins of the use of Baroque pearls in jewelry. These large and irregularly shaped pearls were highly prized by renaissance jewelers who saw them as unique and exquisite natural forms which were often used to form the bodies of fantastic bejeweled figures and animals. The possibility to see oneself reflected inside natural materials is endlessly fascinating. This type of displacement or mirroring, opens a space of spirituality that connects us to the materials and nature that surrounds us in our shared time on earth.  

“For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.” – Song of Myself , by Walt Whitman