Never overlook one space for the other

An infantry of sculptures guards the Engineering Building on the campus of LSU. Each piece is placed a respectful distance apart, so your glance never overlooks one space for the other. This area is veritably called the Sculpture Garden, and it stands in advance of the classrooms and studio space that compose the building. When I arrive to interview 29-year-old sculptor Jonathan Pellitteri, I accidentally walk into a room where a young, lithe graduate student is pacing in front of her canvas. Before turning away I see her waltzing in between the hanging sheets that define her ten-foot-by-ten-foot work area, eyeing her painting for an emotional and technical accuracy that only this student will ever really understand.

It is that same quest for accuracy, the same satisfaction in the finest detail, that has followed Pellitteri, who holds a master of fine art from LSU, from his origins outside of Boston to study in Louisiana, then teach in Fargo, N.D., and experiment in St. Urban, Lucerne, Switzerland.

His return to Baton Rouge, a year after his graduation, was heralded with an exhibition, “Conversations and Lenses,” at the Brunner Gallery. The exhibit runs through Feb. 24 and is inspired by his experiences communicating through a Web camera during his time as an artist in residence at the University of North Dakota. I attended the opening before meeting Pellitteri and knew his work was something special. I asked Cody Arnall, a sculpture graduate student at LSU who was poking around the same artwork, his opinion of Pellitteri.

“It’s so precise and clean I can’t hardly stand it,” Arnall said. “I want to scream, it is so good.”

Truly, it is hard to overlook the maturity of Pellitteri’s work. Without knowing his age, it wouldn’t be a poor guess to assume he was far into his autumn years. Not because the work is dated—rather, every element is balanced and certain; the patience and clarity needed to create the bronze, wood and stone structures is undeniable. Even the calm, assured tone in his artist statement reflects a person who is grounded and experienced.

“When I look at [the sculptures], it seems sloppy and not precise, but that keeps me on my toes,” Pellitteri says with a laugh.

We begin our conversation in the basement of the Engineering Building in his new studio, granted to him when he accepted the job as art technician at LSU. It’s an industrial and purely functional space; my questions and his answers fit in between the intermittent rumblings of a nearby air compressor.

“My grandfather was a mason, and when I graduated college, I became a carpenter. In those lines of work, it all needs to be done right,” Pellitteri says. “When that is translated to my work, I want people to see the imagery and combination of materials, not the sloppy connections.”

Despite Pellitteri’s influences—the fleshy, surrealist manifestations of Tim Hawkinson and the sprawling mechanical bodies of Jean Tingley—he holds tight the reins of his own work.

“I look at a lot of work that is looser and freer, and I envy those people,” Pellitteri says. “I’m just still interested in presenting my work without tricking anyone.”

Hand picked by North Dakota State University for its 2008 residency, Pellitteri kept up with his fiancée, Nicole Davis, using a Web camera, and saw the lens as a reference point for communication.

“It brings about conflicting emotions, since the lens can bring things closer into view but also push them away,” he explains. “When I would go to sleep I would leave the camera on and wonder if she was still watching me. It provided companionship but also paranoia.”

From these experiences he finalized the “Conversations and Lenses” series. He also worked with students to create “Red River Sail,” a material installation that mimicked the Red River running through Fargo.

“Though a lot of my work with lenses was psychological, you also want the physical place to influence what you do. But it takes time to figure out what is inspiring about a place,” Pellitteri says. “In Louisiana, it is water.”

The artist acquainted himself with place at the New Orleans Contemporary Arts Center when he debuted his work “Descent” in 2007. This construction, installed in the oval gallery underneath the CAC’s spiral ramp, used rope, sacks of coal and pulleys to alter the height of a wicker canopy. As water slowly left the linen sacks, the canopy descended toward the floor. The water was filtered through coal and, in Pellitteri’s words, “solidifies underlying deposits of clay to produce a record of the event.”

This kind of astute mastery earned him a prestigious residency in Switzerland with sculptor Heinz Aeschlimann.

“I stayed at the Aeschlimanns’ museum with the only other selected artist, Agnieszka Stopyra from Poland. It was just an amazing experience,” he says. “They gave us everything; I had three studios to work in, all within a few miles of each other, and all the materials we needed to experiment with.”

Indeed, Aeschlimann’s goal is to provide an opportunity for sculptors to experiment without financial concerns. Pellitteri recognizes the expectations of such a privilege.

“Everything went very fast and had a strict schedule, but there was no way we could have done as much as we did without that,” he says.

On the flip side of creating art is the business. The program also gave potential buyers a glimpse at the emerging artists, and gave the artists a chance to network.

“I experienced a big part of a world that I’ll never be part of again. It was very surreal,” Pellitteri says. “It was hard not to feel like you were on exhibit, even though the Aeschlimanns made every attempt to make sure you didn’t feel like that.”

The highlight, Pellitteri says, was discussing his work with Sorel Etrog, an artist and friend of Pablo Picasso. At the conclusion of his residency Pellitteri returned to Baton Rouge, where his fiancée lives and works. He has settled into the basement where we conducted this interview.

“I chose to come to LSU the first time because it was something different for me and they had a really appealing graduate program,” he says. “Over the last four years I’ve seen a lot of growth here, as far as the arts are concerned, but it isn’t a center for the art world. You could ship your work to places that have more opportunities to show, but you miss out on being a member of that community.”

I can see the all-too-familiar struggle between comfort and ambition that haunts so many. He tries to reposition his case.

“In St. Urban especially, I realized how important it is to keep connected to the international audience,” he says. “It’s important for artists to recognize that. You need to let people see your work.”

Walking out of our interview and into the Sculpture Garden, the subtle truth is reinforced. It is best to place objects a respectful distance apart, so your glance never overlooks one space for the other.