Explore the delicate line between decorative and contemporary art in this personal reflection by sculptor and painter Kevin Doberstein. From Black Cherry Burl bowls to organic abstract sculptures, discover how intention, beauty, and meaning shape the artist’s journey—and how viewers engage with art on a deeper level.

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The thought begins here: where does the line fall between decorative and contemporary art? At first, the answer seems obvious—one hangs quietly to beautify a room, the other wrestles with questions, emotions, or ideas. But the longer I sit with it, the more complicated it becomes. Sometimes the decorative holds meaning. Sometimes the contemporary is nothing more than surface dressed up as depth.

Learning lessons

The art world is a continuous schooling process.

An Early Lesson

Years ago, I carved a series of Black Cherry Burl bowls. They were rich, warm, and full of movement in the grain. I was proud of them. I brought them into a gallery, hoping they would find a home.

They didn’t sell.

The gallery staff told me later that when people admired them, the staff didn’t know what to say. They simply called them “beautiful bowls.” Needless to say, the bowls came back with me.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. But over the years, that moment has stayed with me. The work was strong, but without language or context, it was left standing in the decorative corner. It made me realize how easily beauty can overshadow intention if the deeper story isn’t carried forward.

Intention vs. Appearance

That experience forced me to ask a harder question: What is my work for?

Decorative art lives to please the eye. It softens a wall, matches a sofa, fills a space with harmony. Contemporary art, at least as I see it, leans more toward inquiry. It asks something of the viewer. It’s less about fitting in, more about opening a door.

And yet—isn’t that distinction still muddy? A bowl can carry silence just as much as a large sculpture can. A painting can soothe or unsettle, depending on the gaze of the one who enters the room. Perhaps what matters is less the form itself and more the invitation it extends.

Audience Experience

People often ask me, “What tools did you use? How long did it take?” Practical questions. Safe questions. Sometimes I answer them, but part of me longs for another kind of question: What did you feel when you stood before it?

When the conversation focuses on tools and processes, the work risks being perceived as craft—decorative. When it opens into feeling, into quiet, it begins to step into the realm of the contemporary.

The Gray Area

Still, I don’t want to throw decoration aside. Beauty has its own weight, its own truth. Sometimes beauty is the doorway to depth. I’ve seen people stand before a polished surface and fall into memory, or run their hand across the curve of a sculpture and pause longer than they expected.

Maybe the categories overlap more than they divide. Beauty and meaning are not enemies. They are companions.

Where I Stand

If I place myself anywhere along this spectrum, it would be closer to the contemplative side of contemporary art. My work isn’t made to decorate, though I don’t resist if someone finds it beautiful enough to live with. Beauty matters to me—but only as an opening, not an end. As I carve on a piece, memories, past thoughts, sometimes painful, sometimes warm reflections come to the surface. This is because of my upbringing in the logging/sawmill world from early childhood to my early thirties.

When I first began carving and painting, I leaned more toward surface. I wanted the form to be pleasing, for the finish to shine, for the work to hold itself with grace. Over time, though, I realized what drew me in wasn’t the polish but the silence inside the form. It wasn’t about filling a room, but about creating a pause within it.

Today, I see my work less as an object and more as a space—a place where someone might rest for a moment, or meet something unspoken within themselves. If that means the work is called contemporary, so be it. What matters is that it feels alive, carrying stillness forward in a world that rarely stops to listen.

Closing Thought

Maybe the real question isn’t whether a work is decorative or contemporary, but whether it leaves us unchanged—or invites us to listen more deeply. I believe, as an artist, you have to ask yourself where you want to be. What makes you happy and satisfied, with hopefully warm reflections at the end of the day.

“I’d love to hear how you see this. Here are a few questions to spark reflection and conversation:”

When you encounter art, do you find yourself drawn more to its beauty—or to the ideas it carries?
Is calling something “decorative” just another way of saying it isn’t serious?
Do you think beauty without meaning has value, or is it just surface?
Has there ever been a work of art that made you rethink what “decorative” means?
Can an artwork still be powerful if it never challenges the viewer?
If an artwork moves you deeply, does it really matter what category it falls into?
Do you think labels like 'decorative' or 'contemporary' help us understand art, or do they limit our perspective?

Between Surface and Silence