Managing those galleries

Art Institutions as Tool for Regeneration

eshrly — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 19:21:55 +0000

There is a common held viewpoint of city government officials and developers when dealing with the renewal of areas which have suffered from decline. The introduction of art institutions such as museums or galleries is the viewpoint that is a part of the solution to begin the reversal process. As seen in previous decades, cultural centers such as art museums or artist neighborhoods tend to bring renewal of urban neighborhoods. Gentrification as a process for improvement for the city’s image and future well-being is not without its positive and negative aspects. Displacement of founding artists and families unable to afford their current housing due to gentrification’s characteristic of increasing property values is passed off to tenants in the form of increased rent to offset the inclined cost, so developers can continue to make a profit. Positive aspects of regeneration through cultural institutions are reconstruction and an increased number of jobs for the denizens of the area. What is troubling here is the question of whether or not we, as a community, are in fact using government and business funds to their greatest degree for the area and for the people? In addition to that question, there is the question of whether or not the introduction of art institutions do what they are thought to do, an urbanization regrowth. There have been studies stating that they do not produce the economic growth and advantages that are claimed. Nonetheless, our cities still aim to bring in art institutions to revamp the area and bring in revenue for the city. The point being that there are regeneration programs through art institutions that are more successful than others in both regeneration and keeping the negative aspects of gentrification down.

Such an institution would be one that pays more attention to the community and their needs. Those institutions that do not do this portion usually fare worse than others. For instance, the Tate Gallery St Ives paid closed attention to the location and the existing structure of the area’s architecture. They constructed the gallery with regards to the community. This move was well respected by the denizens of the city and well received. The familiar architecture created a space that was unintimidating. The art it stored and on display was that from the movement of the St Ives School. Catering to the community rewarded the area with increase in trade, employment, and revenue.

Museum Authority

eshrly — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 19:29:42 +0000

Throughout history it seems as if there is always an opposition to a certain aspect of culture, and it is only a matter of time and appropriate historical backlog for this counter to happen. Usually this opposition is in regards to a movement that one may not find favor with, be it style or methodologies. The opposition is not perpetually belligerent but can operate in such a way to bring light on to the fallacies the group finds fault with or wants to highlight as a criticism.

Societal institutions such as museums have power, and commonly this power can go unquestioned for a long while. Our culture thinks of museums as educational places of exhibitions to showcase art, history, science, and culture. The professionals who run the operation are normally an intellectual group of individuals, but they are not without their biases. Without a questioning and discerning mind, the community inadvertently absorbs information they are given and takes it as truth. In the reading this week, “Beyond Belief: The Museum as Metaphor” by Ralph Rugoff, he introduces the reader to the Museum of Jurassic Technology at Los Angeles. This museum is sort of an oddity in itself. There are vitrines and glass cases of various objects on display, but they are of very unrelated superficial composure–a curiosity cabinet of sorts. Exhaustive didactic text accompanies everything. If one was to walk around the exhibit to just take in the sights and not give much thought to the museum as a whole, the museum in its entirety would appear chaotic. Yet there is probably much more to the institution than one absorbs in a passive condition. The exhibitions present a wide variety of subject matter that is elusive but we have heard of in some form, such as the Jurassic, Korsakoff syndrome, and bat radar. The visitor gets a feeling they are being duped in some way but is his or her assumption an imaginative thought or correct? One cannot really know, but we have a innate sense to believe the authoritative museum.

I believe the Museum of Jurassic Technology is a critique on the museum. The museum is an uncontested bringer of truth and fact, but the MJT visitor’s trust is on shaky ground. To every exhibition space and glass vitrine, the visitor needs to question the validity. Is there really a bat that uses radar to fly through walls? Or is there some deeper meaning to the exhibitions? Are displays and the institution a metaphor for the concept of memory–elusive and fleeting?

Installation Art at the FAC Modern

eshrly — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 19:37:03 +0000

Excerpt from the exhibition, Altered Space:

At its best, art engages us to become participants in establishing its meaning.

Installation art is not a new concept to contemporary art yet its allure is meaning and particularly interaction and response.

In this particular exhibition, the three galleries of the Fine Arts Center Modern were handed over to three local artists, Christina Marsh, Gwen Laine, and Matt Barton. The aim of the artists was to create installation pieces utilizing the area. As one enters into the FAC Modern atrium, the space that artist Christina Marsh, second year Riley Scholar in Residency at Colorado College, occupies is to the left. One is confronted with a feminine dresser at the opposing wall with slightly ajar drawers and a silver tea set centered at top. Inside the drawers there are clothes of off-white and pearl color. Lining the entire floor molding of the gallery walls are approximately 1.5″ x 3″ rectangular pieces of white chocolate. On the south side wall there are multiple frames of varying medium sized dimension of white chocolate but could be easily mistaken for those made of porcelain. A couple of feet from the north wall is a stack of suitcases and located at the corner are piles of neatly folded clothes. A wooden chair with a small book of photographs is adjacent to the piles. The text “My grandmother decided to move…we chose to move forward” can be seen on the wall a short distance above and away from the wooden dresser.

If one ventures across towards the galleries to the west, there are two spaces and two artists’ installation works. Gwen Laine is the first gallery’s artist, and she has filled a room with reflective silver, helium-filled mylar balloons. Connected to each small grouping of about three to five balloons is a string and tiers of clear mylar photographs placed upon one another with some distance between each. The images of the photographs are of hands. There is central walkway devoid of balloons, but the objective of the space is to have visitors walk through and between the balloons. As one does, the balloons move slightly, not in location, but in the objects they link, the photographs. The photographs are free to spin about into different positions. As the helium escapes from the balloons over time, they will decrease in height and the spaces between the photographs will lessen to eventually be laying upon one another. A note to be aware of, in both Laine’s and Marsh’s space, the walls are painted a sea blue color.

Directly adjacent to Laine’s installation is Matt Barton’s, artist and UCCS professor of sculpture, environment. The viewer is immersed into a different world. Here there is the brooding of an oncoming apocalypse given by the video projected onto the walls of the space. At the start of the video, it is an ordinary night and a landscape similar to that of the Garden of the Gods rock formations. But as the night progresses, eerie colors of reds and warm tones light up the sky. A comet fast approaches and gets ready to make contact, but at that moment the video starts from the beginning. Directly in the center and occupying much of the space is a tent made of quilts that one can enter. There is fake grass on one portion of the space and on it is placed a campfire along with its ubiquitous accessories, such as sticks, marshmallows, and a frying pan. All around, the area is suppose to be reminiscent of a children’s camping site–fluffy clouds, and trees complete with companion forest animals.

Of the three installations, the one I found to be negatively affected in location and inviting the viewer to act as participant is Christina Marsh’s piece. A major factor for her piece was for the viewer to smell the chocolate, but the viewer cannot because of an entrance to the Nosh restaurant and its close proximity to it. Nosh’s food smell masked the chocolate. I, as a visitor, did not feel engaged by the installation as I did with the other two works. If the aim was to promote interaction in the galleries, I feel this work failed in that aspect. The installation that did well in promoting interaction between space and viewer was Matt Barton’s piece. I could enter the tent and feel comfortable with others inside. I could sit around the fire as well. His work was meant to transport one into another place of fantasy and safety, hence the childlike tent and settings, but have the sense of temporality with the pending apocalypse.

Considering Colorado Springs’ previous lack of installation art, the Altered Spaces exhibition is a welcomed introduction to the facets of Contemporary art.

Queue Creating Shows

eshrly — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 20:25:24 +0000

If I was to make one assumption about art and the broad populace, I would have to admit that the people of earth enjoy their Impressionism. Furthermore, if I was to rank in order my observations of the top three most popular artistic movements, it would show up as the following: 1. Impressionism, 2. Abstract Expressionism and 3. Surrealism — give or take a Cubist idol or Pop Art king. Really, though, these ramblings are those of just a typical art student making her rounds of quick judgments, but I cannot dismiss this as superficial critique of contemporary culture if major institutions readily schedule blockbuster shows that hike up attendance rates and, let’s not forget, the profit margins. This was one of two themes in this week’s batch of readings found in the book Contemporary Cultures of Display by Emma Barker.

Historically the blockbuster show got its start recently but has been documented as early as the mid-nineteenth century through large crowd drawing stagings (Barker 127). This upstart in the West, namely the United States, could be attributed to the lack of funding in the arts. In comparison with the countries across the ocean, Western Europe has a fairly steady showing of such exhibitions in contrast to America’s numerous ones. An explanation is that the arts are funded largely in part by the governments. Yet now there is an interest in introducing more blockbuster showings to the east side of the Atlantic as grant values decrease and the need to finance the institution is growing (Blocker 129).

I feel blockbuster exhibitions such as the much attended Monet or Impressionist shows will never cease to exist. This has both positive and negative aspects in that newer audiences are reached and income is raised, but at the expense of the artworks and display. Existing and future didactic text could be generalized for the mass consumption of the public. I do not believe that making everything too accessible promotes critical growth in thought and dialogue. Spectacle can and most certainly will accompany the blockbuster shows, but does it presuppose the type of audience the museum will attract? Yes, to a degree it will. Most notably, the trendy type who do not want to be left out of Monday’s conversation discussing the hippest weekend excursion should be expected; or even those who only go because it was marketed as the show you must see if only once in your lifetime. Another topic of contention amongst such exhibitions are the sponsors funding the blockbuster. Censorship is a serious concern which can direct the leanings or limitations of the show and subsequent exhibitions thereafter.

As our society is becoming more visual and entertainment based, I do not suspect the upcoming death of the blockbuster but only hope for the prospects it may bring.

“We’re Not Dick’s”

eshrly — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 19:32:38 +0000

If the cleaver musings of The Laboratory of Art and Ideas at Belmar’s seasonal newsletter (entitled “The Lab Notebook”) is any indication of its institution, I am pleased to report that my observations of the space reflect its nature. From the exterior facade, passersby are greeted with text on the clear glass windows chiding him/her to get one’s body (i.e. “ass”) into the building – all stated in a facetious tone. But first, in due formality, I shall introduce the reader to the concept of The Lab by posting its mission statement for all to cultivate a sense of what the institution is about and then give a brief description of the design and layout.

The Lab’s mission statement:

The Lab is a non-profit institution dedicated to developing, presenting and disseminating creative research in contemporary art and thought. The Lab is a place for the general public to engage with artists and scholars and a forum for personal reflection, public dialogue and creative experimentation around contemporary art and ideas.

Humorous overtones coupled with witty remarks make for an approachable and edgy art space. The interior architecture, designed by Belzberg Architects of Santa Monica, California, screams contemporary with an abstract structural shape snaking its way into the foyer and out into the public walk space. The white walls enclosing right angled rooms are quintessential white cubes, yet this does not exude off-puttish elitism that defines contemporary art for the majority of the general public. Silly observations, such as the signs posting elevation from the bottom of stairs to the landing space, dot the stairwell leading up to the information desk; which, by the way, stacked plastic sacks of rocks greets the guests alerting one of their existance: “Sacks of rubble; free to new members”. There is a narrow hallway letting out to the first gallery space, which is occupied by the current exhibition The Plains of Sweet Regret by Mary Lucier. Video installation such as this is well suited in this gallery and offers much space for the probable addition of movable walls if necessary. Exiting the space through a doorway located to the upper east, the visitor enters another rectangular room with windows lining the area to let in natural light. I do not know if the lighting is the major contributor to this distraction, but the room is extremely hot. Regardless of this minor uncomfortable condition, the space lends to the heart of the institution: the common room. This room functions as an exhibition space, discussion area, and leisure room — thanks largely in part to the shuffleboard space. As a institution designed to hold artworks of the now, the white cube galleries serve their purpose efficiently, and the community area attributes to the aim of the gallery to promote thoughtful dialogue between people without the pretentious setting. What I found interesting are the methods of communication scattered throughout the common area. A picnic table is set atop a pedestal among numerous couches lining the perimeter. Art books are strewn across two tables near the wall composed entirely of windows. There is also a workable typewriter with index cards to compose tangible public forum. I suppose these objects and this room that helps to bolster conversation makes up for the lack of seating to be found in the other two galleries, which is one of two obvious downfalls. The other would be the directed flow throughout the institution.

Overall, I think The Laboratory of Art and Ideas at Belmar delivers on its mission of presenting an institution working as public forum and arts space. Really, who can hate a space, located across from Dick’s Sporting Goods, that places a note in its front window that states, “We’re Not Dick’s”?

Accessibility of the Musee d’Orsay

eshrly — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 19:48:44 +0000

From my perspective, the Musee d’Orsay can be seen as a museum of fragmented viewpoint — of varied visions of a diverse group of people. From its inception of proposal, the Orsay was an idea taken on by the Socialist president Mitterrand after it was approved beforehand during the presidency of Giscard d’Estaing (Barker 54). The museum was created in a former 1900 train station designed in the Beaux-Arts style of decorative filigreed grandeur and was assigned to house art of the 19th century (Barker 53). A nascent yet rather substantial aim of the museum was to introduce the greater general public to art of the 19th century. The idea came about with the 1981 appointing of Madeleine Reberioux, a historian of socialism. She wanted to display the artworks by means that had no aesthetic value but reflected upon the of history of the upper and lower classes’ mass culture usage of identical objects (Barker 55). This practice presented the concept of marrying art and everyday life (through the suggestion of displaying decorative arts and fine art in the same room), but the curatorial board relinquished this idea stating that “art occupies a special zone of its own quite apart from the ordinary world of everyday life” (Barker 55).

I have the sense that the Orsay in some ways abandoned the accessibility of a museum of broad leanings in the sense of visiting populations and maintained the popular view that art is sanctioned for the intellectual and well-off. The director and organizers of the space exemplified this in the layout of the galleries. The floors of the Orsay are meant to represent a hierarchical scale in which the more important works were to be located on the very top level to bring them closer to the natural light streaming through the glass roof, defined as “top lit”. The museum goer would have to be conscious of this concept beforehand and most common people, not educated in art, would not be aware of this.

As previously mentioned, the curatorial board not wanting to combine the common and fine art in one room to have a reference to history and culture of the period, makes the reference that “works of art ‘speak for themselves’” (Barker 56). With no information to seep from other references this makes the viewer less aware of the artworks context. From this standpoint, I would agree with the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu that works of art do not speak in a language that everyone understands but only the educated museum goer has the skills to decipher the meaning of a piece (Barker 56).

To Become Blind is to Truly Contemplate Existence

eshrly — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 20:45:41 +0000

What is it to be blind? As a word, “blind” is ambiguous and can hold a variety of meanings. To be physically blind is to be without the sense of sight. To be blind in the metaphorical sense is to not have a grasp or to be completely oblivious to a concept or meaning. But what if the works of art transport you into installations that propose to do both and then some? Contemporary artworks of such artists as Bruce Nauman, Gonzalo Diaz, Terence Koh, and Inigo Manglano-Ovalle are introduced in the fall 2007 Art Journal article “Blink: The Viewer as Blind Man in Installation Art” by Jane Blocker, an art history professor at the University of Minnesota. Blocker introduces the reader to Jacques Derrida’s, a philosopher, idea of the blind man. He is not necessarily without the sense of sight but encompassing a dual figure: the artist and the philosopher (Blocker 7). The blind man–in contrast to the two previous definitions–has now attracted another meaning. Derrida’s blind man is the seer; the seer who sees things that the visually capable cannot. Blocker elaborates by stating that “it is commonly understood that to know the world, that is, to think the world, is to be blind, where blindness is understood to provide ethical clarity” (Blocker 8). When a person delineates between two ideas, he or she draws a distinction between the two; one could even say to draw a line. It is through this line one begins to show the concept of thought. The article’s author begins to introduce the reader to works that physically impose blindness through the use of light and darkness. Situations in which the viewer is submerged darkness and then blanketed with light or vice versa. One such installation is Terence Koh’s Untitled, 2007. As the spectator enters, he or she is flooded in bright white light. The light transforms into an entity that one feels takes up physical space and a form of pain. The light is so blinding that the viewer is forced to find his or her way in the space through the means of touch and memory. In this installation the viewer is physically blind. He or she relies on memory of the space before the “starburst”. This reliance on memory brings to the viewer the distinction between reality and representation.

What is the blind man but a philosopher and an artist; the seer of the world. These figures try to reason out ways to shed light on subjects such as temporality and the real that plague human existence.

Location, location, location

eshrly — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 19:20:24 +0000

This week I have read an article from the January / February 2008 issue of the magazine ART PAPERS, and it is entitled, “Site, Work, City: On the 10th International Istanbul Biennial”. The author of the article, Berin Golonu, is an associate curator at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco, and she documents how effectively the curator of the Istanbul Biennial achieved his intended statement. The Biennial was given the title Not Only Possible, But Also Necessary–Optimism in the Age of Global War and was curated by Hou Hanru. Through Golonu the reader learns that Hanru’s goal was to showcase Istanbul’s history and prospective future through the curator’s knowledge of the works and the cultural leanings of the city through the theme of optimism.

The article struck me in the overwhelming sense of how much planning and organization a curator has to put into an exhibition – in this case, a full on biennial – to see it fully realized. Finally in the end, the outcome will be scrutinized and examined. It will be deemed effective or ineffective or fall somewhere in between. As I have come to learn in my studies of gallery management, the location and placement of the artworks are key in the display of aesthetics and context. For myself, this is the topic Golonu has brought to the forefront in her article. Hanru has much to consider and one crucial aspect is audience. Who is the show for and what type of people does he want to exhibit for? In this particular instance, Hanru has the locales of a city to work with, and so he should plan to cater to all visitors, especially since some installation areas are in public domain. One location the artworks particularly create dialogue with the space, work, visitors was at the Ataturk Cultural Center (AKM). The issue with the building and the local political board was the question on whether to bring down building and create a new contemporary structure. I am not acquainted to all of the showcase of the AKM but Hanru explicitly makes a stance on his leanings through Mon Grand Recit, weep into stones…, 2005, by Lee Bul. The piece has a city built upon a foundation of almost nothing. As with all things there are highs and lows of the curated show. There are the places where the location does not speak but only dwells within the space. I must mention that I am not against the idea of artworks just being, but they must have some thought behind the placement; this especially with rings true with installation art. As a gallery management student, I can see there are many aspects of the show and research into the formulation of such a great undertaking.

Spectacle and the white cube

eshrly — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 20:14:11 +0000

Reproduction was the theme of the previous week, and it shall be briefly revisited yet again in relation to art institutions. The culture of today is largely based upon visuals; visuals in the idea of pictorial images, not just in terms of pliable text. Information is quickly spread, and we are inundated daily with reproduced ads of the media. The reproductive aspect, I believe, has lessened our feeling of awe. Thus as a society, we are constantly searching for that which is more novel. As a response, institutions–not just art museums–vie for attention. How will the institution attract more foot traffic to view its contents? Bring in the trendiest designer to fashion a new wing–more contemporary, more unique. This leaning could also be translated into some artists’ aim; the aim may be approached explicitly or subconsciously. Ultimately, spectacle may result from such tactics. Spectacle in the art realm can be viewed from many perspectives. There is the advantage that it can expose many to art and culture, yet there is the disadvantage that the meaning of artworks are secondary to its visual qualities or it may not even exist. Thus the museum has become a theme park, in a certain way, to entertain the senses. Yes, this does bring in revenue to support the institution, but art in general could suffer from such methods.

The spectacle and the display of modern and contemporary art are sort of in contention in some ways. The space of art museums and galleries evolved in the early to mid 1900s into plain white cubes devoid of outside distraction. Artworks are usually hung intentionally with surrounding space and in a single row. The idea is to have the viewer contemplate the artwork. But if the artwork is only spectacle, the aim of the white cube is a somewhat vain attempt at highlighting its significance. Spectacle in some way cheapens art. This is not to say that the minimality of the space is entirely moot. The white cube does has its advantage of allowing one to bring in his or her viewpoint to the work and view it in relation to personal experience creating dialogue. My thought into the implication of art institutions in general is that one mode of displaying artworks will not always cater to everyone or a specific work.

Reproduction

eshrly — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 20:22:11 +0000

Considering our ability to reproduce images in such varied publications such as the internet, books, magazines, postcards, posters, et cetera, there is the tendency to overlook its effects on perception and the changes that have happened due to reproduction. An article that addresses such an issue is Andre Malraux’s Museum Without Walls. Being a student of the visual arts, I have had many introductory art history classes, and there are the standard images from well-known artists that an art student is repetitiously exposed to. One such image that comes to mind is Matisse’s The Red Room (Harmony in Red), 1908. Logically one would infer from the title that the room would be red. But from every color reproduction I have seen of this image there are slight–or in some cases, drastic–variations in red. In one book, the room was almost fuchsia. I know this is not a characteristic that would normally alter your perception of the original, but imagine if one never experienced the image in color. Reproductions decades ago were only printed in black and white, and if you did not have the luxury of seeing the original in person, your understanding of the artwork is skewed. Malraux gave an example where this was especially evident. In Byzantine paintings the subject matter is repetitive and static, so if it was seen in black and white, the viewer would not see the importance of such works. The Byzantine color is what makes the composition engaging (Malraux 30). What was so novel about reproductions was the ability to make copies of images. Now artworks could travel the globe without ever leaving its origin or owner. This allowed scholars, critics, and the public to examine works to form an opinion. In early art history during the classical era, there was an accepted way to portray people and objects in artwork. It had gotten to the point where it became mathematical. To stray from this canon caused the citizens of this period to look upon other artworks with passivity. These comparisons between works of different artists culminated the definition of masterpieces–masterpieces of one artist or an artist being termed a master. Reproductions introduced hierarchies. Another article addressing reproduction but in an entirely different way is Matthew Goulish’s 39 Microlectures. He relates an experience to the reader in which The Conversion of St. Paul by Caravaggio is highlighted from its dark location in the Chiesa Santa Maria del Popolo church only when a coin is inserted into a slot. The entire experience is a dramatic spectacle in and of itself and can only be reproduced through a monetary exchange. The reproduction here is the experience. And if viewed through this way, the artwork takes on another meaning. Can it ever be seen as just a painting? Or would the viewer only get that feeling of awe not in the image itself but only through the process of theatrics?