Mothball the Military Industrial Complex
October 31st, 2008The Love Armor Project
Mothball the military industrial complex.
Shirley Klinghoffer and Sarah Hewitt had better keep on knitting. Knitting their brows because this last little art intervention of theirs was a real humdinger. Or maybe we should let’em relax for a while, maintain their poker faces and just admit to ourselves–the ante has been upped.
Getting knitting forms the plan, so the work broadcasts immediately deep-dish, Chicago-style feminist collaboration of the “women’s work as high art” variety that we’ve all come to love. But since it’s 2008 and since both genders knit, and everybody can be a Marine, and it’s Santa Fe, and the mistaken occupation of Iraq still sucks, Love Armor transforms the Waxman Gallery into a deconstruction site that posits itself successfully as both a theoretical and social action, a genuine act of peace, love, and understanding. You in the hinterlands, still saying art can’t be activism, all you really need (fur yerself) is a nice Humvee Cozy.
A little knitted dust cover for an appliance you rarely intend to use is such a good thing to have, especially when it’s made by someone who cares. Getting the National Guard to bring a camo-painted Humvee to cuddle and cozy (because sharing is caring) into the former tank armory at the CCA is a hilarious idea. The floating Humvee Cozy has all the classical conceptual elegance of a well-played and well-intended joke, a la Duchamp or Manzoni. In realization it provides the anti-gravity to enact the psychic deconstruction process that is grief.
The Love Armor Project posits an off-white site within a black hole, a still place to honor the 4,000-plus American lives lost in Iraq, many in or around this Humvee, our standard issue military vehicle. The cozy transforms itself into a shroud for those who never got out. The L.A.P. intercedes, nurtures, and as a laying-on-of-hands it offers healing and protection. Knitting is a meditation akin to enumerative prayer, akin to chanting, akin to mother wailing–a father’s tears, one after another.
Milan Kundera called it “the laughter of angels,” when something lifts and unburdens your heart finally, after a long time of despair. The floating cozy, after the Humvee M1026 was driven out, achieved this lifted elegiac emotion via presented absence.
My recommendation: immediately contract eight-five percent of our designers and manufacturers of weaponry to work as artists exploring their deepest imaginations.
Jon Carver
THE Magazine
November 2008











