MODEST common and the Western Art Collective are thrilled to announce Expressions of Purposefulness: Types and Degrees (Scrapture 2.0), the second exhibition of work by Wes Jones in his ongoing development of the “scrapture” series. An opening reception will be held 6-9pm Thursday 14 November at the MODEST common space in Los Angeles. As he describes it, “scrapture” is exactly what it sounds like: “sculpture made from re-animated scraps.” The “offcuts, discards, debris, leftovers” in the present show “re-compose the process waste from the build-out of the gallery and other projects around downtown, into a demonstration of enigmatic purposefulness.” This show marks the second time he has exhibited work of this sort. The current pieces have doubled down on the expression of purposefulness, while preserving ambiguity, by including cannibalized elements—now second-generation scraps—of unplaced work from the previous show. Thus the work continues to evolve as individual pieces mature, and unplaced works are shorn of their aura to become newly available starter assemblies for the next round of collage. Each exhibited piece thus embodies a worthy culmination of focused effort while hinting at a springboard for continued exploration. Jones is an architect and educator as well as an artist. He has maintained his art activity alongside his architecture practice throughout his career, but until the scrapture idea came up he lamented the dissociation of the two. Jones felt guilty that his two passions did not feed into each other the way the dual practices of architects like Le Corbusier or John Hejduk did. Until now. Jones’ architectural work is known for its imaginative engagement with technology, winning awards and recognition around the world. The art work has enjoyed a more private existence, with a difference audience, where its divergence from the technological focus of his architecture was unremarkable. This new scrapture work on the other hand brings the two together with an ebullience that is driven by the same sophisticated “mechanical” spirit as the building designs. The “purposefulness” of the show’s title reflects the inherent legibility of mechanical intention, and the works demonstrate that. The “types and degrees” the title announces are evident in the range of the work reflecting this intention. Some of the pieces gesture clearly toward possible mechanisms, while others are like traditional collages that just hint at that spirit through their compositional order. All of the work benefits from the essence of utility inherited through the provenance of its parts as scraps of other projects. This new relationship between the dual practices is sweetened by the fact that the construction materials of his architecture are also the (no longer) raw materials of his art. In a way this makes for an even closer connection between the dual practices than that visible in the works of either Le Corbusier or John Hejduk, or now Thom Mayne, whose art and architecture shared form but not material. What is shared in Jones’ case is attitude, not form (at least not very much), so the art does not seem like models or sketches for architecture. Because of this there is no implied hierarchy of importance between the buildings and the scraptures. The art would be happy to grace the walls and spaces of his buildings, but it is not the building’s ornament or mini me. The sense of purposefulness varies. Everything made must be purposeful by definition, of course, but for some things that fact is remarkable. Not because the thing is unlikely, though it may be, or because its purpose is great, but because its making flaunts it. Some things want to be seriously noticed. Encountered in this way, purposefulness demands attention. The purposefulness of art is consumed in this experience. In this case the expression of such intentionality is not the inadvertent result of productive intention aimed at accomplishing something else, it is the thing. The purpose of art is first to be noticed. After that it’s done. It might also convey some meaning or impart a feeling but that’s outside its proper purview, and if it’s too obvious in that then it fails as art. Scrapture is art in this sense because it is about being seen and has no productive use for the viewer beyond that. There is no meaning or feeling it suggests other than purpose itself, so it remains smugly intransitive. Done, move along. For the maker on the other hand it serves therapeutic and research interests. It happens after an initial purpose has been satisfied or thwarted, tidying up after success or picking up the pieces after failure. Scrapture offers closure after either. As the end of the line for all the leavings and leftovers, the answer to what’s next when you can’t leave well enough alone but nothing more can be done, lemonade to lemons and the silver lining to cleanup. Scrapture is therapy for the hoarder of construction leavings and research for those who notice cool shapes in discarded scraps. Its production soothes the insecure craftsman and challenges the obsessive fiddler, highlighting judgment over skill and shifting the value system from efficiency to expression. The design process—is it right to say design when making art?—is a balancing act between the competing desires of mechanical or tectonic order and artistic freedom. Too much of the former and the result is just a crude sketch of a too obvious point, while too much of the latter makes the thing merely attractive, with no bite. The sweetspot is where the object suggests a general purposefulness and wears a pleasing manner. In that case the potential programmatic intention—what the object is for, what it does—is hazy but present, while the composition dances through that haze with teasing hints and mild contradictions. The overt but obscure intentionality prevents that pleasing manner from being too artsy-fartsy, and the artistic license taken with the hints and contradictions keeps the purposefulness on its toes. The process is collage, obviously. The scraps are just that, leftovers from some construction work, collected over a few years. The scraps are treated as found when possible, but do not resist modification when necessary. Which generates more scraps. Most of the pieces in the show include many generations of scraps. The present set began with the mounting panels, frames, and salvaged screws from a previous show. They carry the presentation dna from that former use into their current role, flavoring the purposefulness of these new pieces with a display sensibility. It is not likely that all the present pieces will avoid eventual cannibalization and re-cycling into the scrap bins. This semi-tragic truth is an outcome of the process, which leaves a show’s unsold pieces behind where they become subject to the needs of the next cycle of scrapture, while the chosen few make their new way out into the world. The sad, unloved bits left behind lurk in the maker’s peripheral vision, always seeming to beg for another shot. They recognize from experience that this means offering up their unappreciated form to the table saw, surrendering their screws to some other scraps from two bins over and two shows back. Their own fragment of purposefulness smolders still, wanting release. They dream of bursting forth with blazing intensity in a novel juxtaposition of inevitable order and triumphant purpose. Meanwhile, the scrap bins multiply and overflow, with bits that didn’t even make it even that far. By now there are few first-generation scraps remaining. They hide out at the bottom of the bins, unaware of the potential for participation in a scrapture. They are buried beneath later generations of scraps that are keeping them in the dark, busy competing between themselves for a place.