{"id":249,"date":"2015-07-23T21:22:52","date_gmt":"2015-07-24T01:22:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/?p=249"},"modified":"2015-07-23T21:22:52","modified_gmt":"2015-07-24T01:22:52","slug":"zina-manesa-burloiu-on-risk","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/2015\/07\/23\/zina-manesa-burloiu-on-risk\/","title":{"rendered":"Zina Manes\u0101-Burloiu: On Risk"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"zinaweb1\"If we accept David Pye\u2019s oft-stated claim that risk is an index of workmanship, then Zina Manes\u0101-Burloiu easily ranks among the most accomplished of wood artists. The dazzling swirls of hand-chipped facets and micro perforations that characterize her work epitomize Pye\u2019s notion that risk inheres in the abandonment of guides and other tools of standardization. And yet, Manes\u0101-Burloiu has risked considerably more than imprecision on her path to becoming an internationally known wood artist. Coming up amid the twilight of Romanian Communism created unique opportunities for the artist, but also confronted her with considerable challenges. Through it all, Manes\u0101-Burloiu has kept close her faith in destiny and a love for wood and tradition imparted by her family.<\/p>\n

Manes\u0101-Burloiu first encountered wood carving as a young girl in rural Romania, where she carved intricate geometrical patterns into the soft bark of tender walnut shoots. Though mere \u201cplay,\u201d in her words, passing time this way amid the slow pace and scarcity of Communist-era village life honed her attention to detail. \u201cTradition,\u201d she recalls,\u201dwas more important because of the way of life.\u201d A traditional agrarian life, however, was not what Manes\u0101-Burloiu wanted for herself. Mechanically inclined and with a talent for math, she left home at age thirteen to study engineering in the city. Manes\u0101-Burloiu supported herself through high school and, later, university, by working mornings in a truck factory and studying by night. It was in the factory, in fact, where Manes\u0101-Burloiu learned to make edged tools like the carving knives she uses today. It was one step toward a career she had not yet imagined.<\/p>\n

\"zinaweb2\"<\/p>\n

[Click here<\/a> to hear Manes\u0101-Burloiu discuss her work.]<\/p>\n

And then came 1989. Romania\u2019s leaders succumbed that year to the wave of revolution that would topple Communism throughout much of the world. Manes\u0101-Burloiu reached out to an uncle who had spent decades imprisoned by the old regime. He had mastered traditional Romanian wood carving techniques while in prison and, after the revolution, Manes\u0101-Burloiu became fascinated by his work. \u201cI fell in love with his house and his carving,\u201d she recalls, \u201cI wanted to do that too.\u201d Her uncle chafed at first, resisting the notion that women should carve. But soon Manes\u0101-Burloiu was helping him with his work and, in turn, learning her art from a master craftsman.<\/span><\/p>\n

Manes\u0101-Burloiu began showing her work\u2014including spoons, cups, egg holders, and candle sticks\u2014at Romanian craft fairs, though a corrupt jury system and relentless traditionalism frustrated her. \u201dI was almost at the point [of] giving up wood carving.\u201d And then, in 1997, destiny intervened. Albert LeCoff had been searching for traditional Romanian wood turners and discovered Manes\u0101-Burloiu\u2019s uncle through an acquaintance. LeCoff invited him to visit the United States on behalf of the Center for Art in Wood, and to bring Manes\u0101-Burloiu along as a translator. When the two arrived, however, LeCoff was surprised to discover that neither were actually wood turners. And yet, their work was so impressive, LeCoff sponsored their participation in a host of events. Before long, Manes\u0101-Burloiu was in conversation with the nation\u2019s leading wood artists, and developing a reputation of her own. \u201cIt was a mistake,\u201d she says, \u201cthat changed my life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"zinaweb3\"<\/p>\n

[Click here<\/a> to hear Manes\u0101-Burloiu discuss her method.]<\/p>\n

It was not, however, a change without risk. In 2001, despite the vagaries of Romania\u2019s fragile economy, Manes\u0101-Burloiu left her factory job to pursue wood art full time. \u201cMaking a living from [wood carving] is my dream,\u201d she says, \u201cbut when you live it, it is not so easy.\u201d The market for wood art in Romania, for instance, forces Manes\u0101-Burloiu to be more stylistically traditional than she\u2019d like. Travel presents challenges too. Manes\u0101-Burloiu had planned on being in residence at the Center during 2013, but was delayed for two years by a visa mishap. Now that she\u2019s here, Manes\u0101-Burloiu admits that \u201cPhiladelphia is the love of my life!\u201d For her, the city is a place of inspiration and transformation. And the ITE residency, she explains, ensures both.<\/p>\n

For more, see David Pye, \u201cThe Workmanship of Risk and the Workmanship of Certainty,\u201d in The Nature and Art of Workmanship<\/em> (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968).<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

If we accept David Pye\u2019s oft-stated claim that risk is an index of workmanship, then Zina Manes\u0101-Burloiu easily ranks among the most accomplished of wood artists. The dazzling swirls of hand-chipped facets and micro perforations that characterize her work epitomize Pye\u2019s notion that risk inheres in the abandonment of guides and other tools of standardization. … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “Zina Manes\u0101-Burloiu: On Risk”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2638,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-249","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/249","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2638"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=249"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/249\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=249"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=249"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/sethbruggeman\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=249"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}