Our trip to Margaret Boozer’s Red Dirt Studios was a huge break from the tradition of our Friday class. Rather than head off to a huge cultural institution in Washington, DC, which no doubt has a budget in the multimillions and a large staff, Red Dirt Studios was incredibly modest and exuded an incredibly organic and intimate feel. After meeting with one of Margaret’s friends in the development world, we got a fantastic tour of the studio, during which we got to take in the extensive differences between Red Dirt and, for example, the Kennedy Center. Even the most fundamental differences between the two inherent in architecture evoked an incredible sense of closeness and humility. Whereas the Kennedy Center is comprised of monumental halls with soaring high ceilings, huge chandeliers, exquisite marble, and enormous windows, Red Dirt Studios had cement for flooring, look-a-like garage doors as windows and doors on one side of the building, and regular fluorescent and incandescent light bulbs in simple light fixtures.
Margaret took us around her studio and proceeded to explain the medium through which most of her works are executed: clay. All of a sudden, I understood the name of the studio—Red Dirt (forgive my sheer stupidity). Most of what we were surrounded by was incredibly different and varied pieces that employed different colors of clay to make different pieces. For example, hexagons shaped pieces were repeated in a pattern that created a sense of possibility through repetition, almost as if the piece were a polymer or string of carbon atoms. Next, Margaret showed us a new piece she is working on that utilized porcelain as a filter for light on a screen. It mimicked papyrus or Japanese scrolls in its ability to transmit light yet also change its form. Lastly, Margaret showed us a slideshow of many of her other pieces of work. Many of these had been commissions or sold to private galleries or collectors. Some of her stunning work included a clay transformation of a fireplace façade, an exploration into the merging of the outdoors with the indoor gallery space paradigm, but most interesting a look at a piece called “Dis/integration.”
The title alone presents quite the intellectual debate—is the piece more focused on the process of decomposition and hence deconstruction, or is it more interested in the integration of the material into the external world? Is it inclusive or deconstructivist in theory? Margaret then explained that the impetus behind the piece was to dissect the relationship between nature and materials, thereby putting into question the importance, significance and relevance of materiality at its most fundamental form. By creating a sculpture made out of clays of different sizes, colors, levels, and shapes, Margaret sought to construct and design a piece that was both visually and intellectually stimulating throughout the course of its deconstruction. By inserting a sculpture made of natural materials into the wider spectrum of nature, does it comment on the experience of imposing human desire and motivation onto the external world, or is it a look into the many different forms of nature not only as sculpture but also as separate realms?
While I wish Margaret would have spent more time discussing her personal and emotional reasons for creating the sculpture pieces that she showed us, they all were very interesting and visually appealing. I look forward to hearing and seeing more from her. She already has enjoyed press coverage by distinguished arts writer Michael O’Sullivan in the Washington Post. The piece “Dis/integration” is incredibly evocative and exciting, and I’m going to try my best to get down and see it in my last two weeks in Washington, DC.
www.margaretboozer.com
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
News: Thursday, April 26
Some pretty exciting new stuff!
Newsweek: One of Us? (Astronomers have made an astonishing discovery—a new planet that sounds a lot like Earth. Maybe we aren’t alone, after all.)
NYTimes: New Hampshire Senate Approves Civil Unions
NYTimes: Hollywood’s Shortage of Female Power
NYTimes: Bees Vanish, and Scientists Race for Reasons
Washington Post: Panel Urges Schools To Replace Junk Foods
Slate Magazine: Mind Reading-- Slate's special issue on the brain, neuroscience and neuroculture
Slate Magazine: Energy Deficit Disorder-- Examining the latest trend in extreme dieting.
Newsweek: One of Us? (Astronomers have made an astonishing discovery—a new planet that sounds a lot like Earth. Maybe we aren’t alone, after all.)
NYTimes: New Hampshire Senate Approves Civil Unions
NYTimes: Hollywood’s Shortage of Female Power
NYTimes: Bees Vanish, and Scientists Race for Reasons
Washington Post: Panel Urges Schools To Replace Junk Foods
Slate Magazine: Mind Reading-- Slate's special issue on the brain, neuroscience and neuroculture
Slate Magazine: Energy Deficit Disorder-- Examining the latest trend in extreme dieting.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Project Proposal
Here is the proposal that I just wrote for my final project. The presentation is due in three weeks, and the paper in four. Let's hope it works out!
Avant-Garde at the Hirshhorn: Cutting Edge or Behind the Curve?
Since opening in 1974, the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden has been the beacon of international modern and contemporary art for the Smithsonian Museum. With a collection of over 14,000 works from renowned artists such as Henry Moore, Alexander Calder, Barbara Hepworth, Willem de Kooning, Sol LeWitt, Anneé Olofsson, Joan Miró, and Dan Flavin, the Hirshhorn has served as a forum for artistic and intellectual dialogue, inquiry, and presentation over the past thirty-three years. Benefactor Joseph H. Hirshhorn donated his extensive and incredibly sought after collection to the Smithsonian, and an Act of Congress established the Museum as a part of the Institution in 1966. Hirshhorn’s collection of exquisite sculpture and paintings helped lay the groundwork for the creation and continual refinement of a space devoted completely to contemporary works. But the question remains: is the Hirshhorn, as seen through its exhibitions and presentations throughout history, on the cutting edge of the contemporary art world, or does it merely act as a showcase for what had recently been coined “avant-garde?”
Before delving into the posed question regarding the Hirshhorn’s exhibition history, one must first define what is meant by the word “avant-garde.” The word comes from the French language and in its most base form means “front guard,” or “vanguard.” However, the word has been appropriated to refer to the experimental nature of a subject, idea, or media, mostly pertaining to the arts. When discussing what it means to be avant-garde, one hears words like, “unorthodox,” “daring,” or “radical,” which present an edgy side to innovation. Does this mean that any new artistic, literary, or musical material that is produced is necessarily avant-garde? Absolutely not. In order to be authentically avant-garde, a work must push the boundaries of art, and by extension the public’s concept of what is art. Avant-garde art is most certainly tied to time and history, in that works that had once been considered daringly innovative are now in the canon of the contemporary.
To get a sense of the avant-garde, look at the work of Pablo Picasso or Marcel Duchamp. Picasso was one of the leaders of the Cubist movement of the early twentieth century, which sought to deconstruct representational portrait techniques by painting a subject from multiple points of view. Planes and angles intersect, objects within the subject are dissected, and most pieces of the work are rearranged, and hence recontextualized. The reason for doing this was to spark the discussion of paradigm and point of view—obviously a piece, scene, or subject can be seen from multiple viewpoints, but what happens when these views penetrate each other? By reordering the elements of the painting, does it bring clarity to the subject in a larger context? And then in 1917, Marcel Duchamp employed a urinal from a public men’s restroom, laid it on its side and displayed it as a piece of art. Why is this radical, daring, or innovative? It challenged the conventions of art and its conceptualization. The important aspect of the avant-garde that one must remember is that it represents the novel within its relative context.
US Cartoonist Al Capp once said, “[Abstract art] is a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered.” Utilizing this logic, Joseph Hirshhorn was simply a man with too much money and too little knowledge, thereby motivated by a force that made him spend lavishly and with abandon. It negates the idea that Joseph Hirshhorn was actually a rather educated, thorough and thoughtful collector of international modern and contemporary art. Starting out collecting French Impressionist pieces, he soon moved to start collecting works by living artists throughout America and Europe. Also, what distinguishes Mr. Hirshhorn from many of his collecting contemporaries is the fact that he would build relationships with young artists, and then would buy out all of their exhibited works in gallery shows. This motion to buy each piece could be interpreted as carelessness; however, Mr. Hirshhorn saw incredibly potential and promise from these artists, so he was hoping for two things: first, that they would be better off financially so that they could continue creating, and secondly that when they became famous he would be the owner of many of the coveted works. While this didn’t always work, it is how we have such a large amount of works by luminaries of the past century.
My project is going to look at three facets of the avant-garde in relation to the Hirshhorn Museum. First, I want to examine Joseph Hirshhorn’s role in selecting these pieces that he thought were innovative and radical. I plan on conducting interviews with the head librarian, sculpture conservator Lee Aks, and hopefully registrar Barbara Freund. By focusing in on Mr. Hirshhorn’s relationship to the avant-garde will, I believe, lead to many interesting discoveries in regards to the early exhibitions at the Museum.
The next phase of the project will look at the first four years of exhibitions at the Hirshhorn Museum. It will proceed from the Inaugural Exhibition (10/4/74 – 5/12/76) to the Louis M. Eilshemius exhibition (11/9/78 – 1/1/79). I will only examine the exhibitions that were organized by the Hirshhorn Museum, because that will give a good look into the minds and ideas of the early curators. While I would love to be able to examine the non-Hirshhorn organized exhibitions, I do not think they will yield as fruitful information as the internally driven exhibitions. Even so, I will make a point to mention them and give a quick overview, because otherwise it would create an incomplete portrait of the first four years of the Hirshhorn Museum’s exhibition calendar.
The last phase of this project will focus on the exhibitions of the last four years at the Hirshhorn. It will begin with the Hirshhorn-organized “Gyroscope” exhibition. This exhibition celebrated the Museum’s permanent collection and included exhibition titles, “Why do some artists use universal symbols?” “How can an artwork exist in more than one place at once?” “How are bronze sculptures made?” and “Why do many artists work without color?” For this part, I will try to conduct interviews with current curators Kerry Brougher, Anne Ellegood, Kristen Hileman, Valerie Fletcher and Milena Kalinovska. Also, I will try to email and get in touch with Professor Alan Wallach from the W&M Art History Department, as well as his wife, who had been a curator at the Hirshhorn for quite some time. Also, I look forward to talking with my editor Vanessa Mallory, web specialist Jennifer Wentz, graphic designer Bob Allen, communications director Gabriel Riera, and my immediate supervisor Gabriel Einsohn to get a better look at how the Museum portrays itself through marketing and the internet. By doing this I will get a better sense as to the art historical reasons behind the exhibitions, and then the ways in which the Museum wants to present itself publicly.
Throughout these phases I will make sure to retain the focus of refining, defining, evaluating, and analyzing the role of the avant-garde to the art works and exhibitions. I am especially interested in seeing two types of exhibitions: retrospectives and brand new shows. For example, the “Ana Mendieta” exhibition that ran from late 2004 into early 2005 looked specifically at the work of her career from 1972 until 1985. However, the recent “Directions—Virgil Marti and Pae White” was an exhibition where two contemporary artists were invited to transform the Hirshhorn lobby with new artwork. One of the questions that I hope to tackle is this: can works in a retrospective be seen of as avant-garde in the present, or are they only historically avant-garde? Because the nature of the avant-garde is temporal, can it extend a short time period and still be totally significant? These questions will be focused through the lens of the Hirshhorn Museum, and I look forward to understanding the presentation and distribution of modern and contemporary art over the past thirty years in Washington, DC.
Avant-Garde at the Hirshhorn: Cutting Edge or Behind the Curve?
Since opening in 1974, the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden has been the beacon of international modern and contemporary art for the Smithsonian Museum. With a collection of over 14,000 works from renowned artists such as Henry Moore, Alexander Calder, Barbara Hepworth, Willem de Kooning, Sol LeWitt, Anneé Olofsson, Joan Miró, and Dan Flavin, the Hirshhorn has served as a forum for artistic and intellectual dialogue, inquiry, and presentation over the past thirty-three years. Benefactor Joseph H. Hirshhorn donated his extensive and incredibly sought after collection to the Smithsonian, and an Act of Congress established the Museum as a part of the Institution in 1966. Hirshhorn’s collection of exquisite sculpture and paintings helped lay the groundwork for the creation and continual refinement of a space devoted completely to contemporary works. But the question remains: is the Hirshhorn, as seen through its exhibitions and presentations throughout history, on the cutting edge of the contemporary art world, or does it merely act as a showcase for what had recently been coined “avant-garde?”
Before delving into the posed question regarding the Hirshhorn’s exhibition history, one must first define what is meant by the word “avant-garde.” The word comes from the French language and in its most base form means “front guard,” or “vanguard.” However, the word has been appropriated to refer to the experimental nature of a subject, idea, or media, mostly pertaining to the arts. When discussing what it means to be avant-garde, one hears words like, “unorthodox,” “daring,” or “radical,” which present an edgy side to innovation. Does this mean that any new artistic, literary, or musical material that is produced is necessarily avant-garde? Absolutely not. In order to be authentically avant-garde, a work must push the boundaries of art, and by extension the public’s concept of what is art. Avant-garde art is most certainly tied to time and history, in that works that had once been considered daringly innovative are now in the canon of the contemporary.
To get a sense of the avant-garde, look at the work of Pablo Picasso or Marcel Duchamp. Picasso was one of the leaders of the Cubist movement of the early twentieth century, which sought to deconstruct representational portrait techniques by painting a subject from multiple points of view. Planes and angles intersect, objects within the subject are dissected, and most pieces of the work are rearranged, and hence recontextualized. The reason for doing this was to spark the discussion of paradigm and point of view—obviously a piece, scene, or subject can be seen from multiple viewpoints, but what happens when these views penetrate each other? By reordering the elements of the painting, does it bring clarity to the subject in a larger context? And then in 1917, Marcel Duchamp employed a urinal from a public men’s restroom, laid it on its side and displayed it as a piece of art. Why is this radical, daring, or innovative? It challenged the conventions of art and its conceptualization. The important aspect of the avant-garde that one must remember is that it represents the novel within its relative context.
US Cartoonist Al Capp once said, “[Abstract art] is a product of the untalented, sold by the unprincipled to the utterly bewildered.” Utilizing this logic, Joseph Hirshhorn was simply a man with too much money and too little knowledge, thereby motivated by a force that made him spend lavishly and with abandon. It negates the idea that Joseph Hirshhorn was actually a rather educated, thorough and thoughtful collector of international modern and contemporary art. Starting out collecting French Impressionist pieces, he soon moved to start collecting works by living artists throughout America and Europe. Also, what distinguishes Mr. Hirshhorn from many of his collecting contemporaries is the fact that he would build relationships with young artists, and then would buy out all of their exhibited works in gallery shows. This motion to buy each piece could be interpreted as carelessness; however, Mr. Hirshhorn saw incredibly potential and promise from these artists, so he was hoping for two things: first, that they would be better off financially so that they could continue creating, and secondly that when they became famous he would be the owner of many of the coveted works. While this didn’t always work, it is how we have such a large amount of works by luminaries of the past century.
My project is going to look at three facets of the avant-garde in relation to the Hirshhorn Museum. First, I want to examine Joseph Hirshhorn’s role in selecting these pieces that he thought were innovative and radical. I plan on conducting interviews with the head librarian, sculpture conservator Lee Aks, and hopefully registrar Barbara Freund. By focusing in on Mr. Hirshhorn’s relationship to the avant-garde will, I believe, lead to many interesting discoveries in regards to the early exhibitions at the Museum.
The next phase of the project will look at the first four years of exhibitions at the Hirshhorn Museum. It will proceed from the Inaugural Exhibition (10/4/74 – 5/12/76) to the Louis M. Eilshemius exhibition (11/9/78 – 1/1/79). I will only examine the exhibitions that were organized by the Hirshhorn Museum, because that will give a good look into the minds and ideas of the early curators. While I would love to be able to examine the non-Hirshhorn organized exhibitions, I do not think they will yield as fruitful information as the internally driven exhibitions. Even so, I will make a point to mention them and give a quick overview, because otherwise it would create an incomplete portrait of the first four years of the Hirshhorn Museum’s exhibition calendar.
The last phase of this project will focus on the exhibitions of the last four years at the Hirshhorn. It will begin with the Hirshhorn-organized “Gyroscope” exhibition. This exhibition celebrated the Museum’s permanent collection and included exhibition titles, “Why do some artists use universal symbols?” “How can an artwork exist in more than one place at once?” “How are bronze sculptures made?” and “Why do many artists work without color?” For this part, I will try to conduct interviews with current curators Kerry Brougher, Anne Ellegood, Kristen Hileman, Valerie Fletcher and Milena Kalinovska. Also, I will try to email and get in touch with Professor Alan Wallach from the W&M Art History Department, as well as his wife, who had been a curator at the Hirshhorn for quite some time. Also, I look forward to talking with my editor Vanessa Mallory, web specialist Jennifer Wentz, graphic designer Bob Allen, communications director Gabriel Riera, and my immediate supervisor Gabriel Einsohn to get a better look at how the Museum portrays itself through marketing and the internet. By doing this I will get a better sense as to the art historical reasons behind the exhibitions, and then the ways in which the Museum wants to present itself publicly.
Throughout these phases I will make sure to retain the focus of refining, defining, evaluating, and analyzing the role of the avant-garde to the art works and exhibitions. I am especially interested in seeing two types of exhibitions: retrospectives and brand new shows. For example, the “Ana Mendieta” exhibition that ran from late 2004 into early 2005 looked specifically at the work of her career from 1972 until 1985. However, the recent “Directions—Virgil Marti and Pae White” was an exhibition where two contemporary artists were invited to transform the Hirshhorn lobby with new artwork. One of the questions that I hope to tackle is this: can works in a retrospective be seen of as avant-garde in the present, or are they only historically avant-garde? Because the nature of the avant-garde is temporal, can it extend a short time period and still be totally significant? These questions will be focused through the lens of the Hirshhorn Museum, and I look forward to understanding the presentation and distribution of modern and contemporary art over the past thirty years in Washington, DC.
News: Monday, April 23
Influenced by the recent events and releases surrounding Earth Day (April 22).
Energy/Environment:
NYTimes: Climate Change Adds Twist to Debate Over Dams
NYTimes: Bloomberg Draws a Blueprint for a Greener City
NYTimes: In Speech, McCain to Push for Cap on Emissions
NYTimes: You Are What You Grow
NYTimes: Bush Aide’s Celebrity Meeting Becomes a Global Warming Run-In (Karl Rove and Sheryl Crow at the White House Correspondent's Dinner)
Other:
NYTimes: Boris Yeltsin, Russia’s First Post-Soviet Leader, Is Dead
NYTimes: Spitzer Plans to Introduce Gay Marriage Bill
NYTimes: Africa’s Crisis of Democracy
NYTimes: When David Faced a Wounded Goliath (Theater Review)
Energy/Environment:
NYTimes: Climate Change Adds Twist to Debate Over Dams
NYTimes: Bloomberg Draws a Blueprint for a Greener City
NYTimes: In Speech, McCain to Push for Cap on Emissions
NYTimes: You Are What You Grow
NYTimes: Bush Aide’s Celebrity Meeting Becomes a Global Warming Run-In (Karl Rove and Sheryl Crow at the White House Correspondent's Dinner)
Other:
NYTimes: Boris Yeltsin, Russia’s First Post-Soviet Leader, Is Dead
NYTimes: Spitzer Plans to Introduce Gay Marriage Bill
NYTimes: Africa’s Crisis of Democracy
NYTimes: When David Faced a Wounded Goliath (Theater Review)
Thursday, April 19, 2007
News: Thursday, April 19
I will be gone for the weekend visiting Williamsburg, VA, so I've added a few extra news articles and editorials for today.
Washington Post: 'That Was the Desk I Chose to Die Under'
Washington Post: Breast Cancer Drop Tied To Less Hormone Use
Washington Post: Drinking Age Paradox
Washington Post: High Court Upholds Curb on Abortion
New York Times: Colleges Need a Reply. May I See Your Notes?
New York Times: The Biggest Sell Is the Audition (QVC in West Chester, PA)
New York Times: No Spitting on the Road to Olympic Glory, Beijing Says
Philadelphia Inquirer: Zoo ready for cubs of a different stripe
LA Times: Hands off my chocolate, FDA!
LA Times: When ethnicity brings an unwelcome focus
Washington Post: 'That Was the Desk I Chose to Die Under'
Washington Post: Breast Cancer Drop Tied To Less Hormone Use
Washington Post: Drinking Age Paradox
Washington Post: High Court Upholds Curb on Abortion
New York Times: Colleges Need a Reply. May I See Your Notes?
New York Times: The Biggest Sell Is the Audition (QVC in West Chester, PA)
New York Times: No Spitting on the Road to Olympic Glory, Beijing Says
Philadelphia Inquirer: Zoo ready for cubs of a different stripe
LA Times: Hands off my chocolate, FDA!
LA Times: When ethnicity brings an unwelcome focus
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Remembering Virginia Tech
I want to start out by taking a moment to reflect on the events that transpired on the Virginia Tech campus on Monday, April 16, 2007. To say I am horrified, disgusted, upset, and enraged would really be an understatement.
I really can't imagine such intense hate and cruel passion. The incredible men and women, professors, staff members and students alike, are all making a difference in the world. In the case of the students, they're going to college so that they can one day make a dent in our lives that, hopefully, makes it a bit better than it was before. They're the next generation of intellectuals, engineers, lovers, actors, writers, musicians, philosophers, professors, historians, activists, and everything in between. They are believers. They believe that they can, through hard work and struggle, change the world around them. And then there are the professors who hope to be able to impart some knowledge that will in turn help infuse the world with hope, optimism, love, and intellect. And now 33 of those voices have been violently stripped from this world.
Maybe I'm slightly more emotional than usual because of Cristin Duprey's memorial service on Saturday (Cristin is a St. Andrew's alum from the Class of 2005 who died in a car accident in February). Will Speers and Tad Roach each spoke at the service and delivered beautiful speeches about Cristin, her life, and her impact on SAS and the world around her. Really, there is no comparison that can be made for Cristin and the VT victims, except that I really have a hard time justifying my own space in the world. We're consistently searching for an answer-- some higher logic-- to why we are here on Earth and why we're in the situation we are. Some chose to believe in a higher being(s), (a) God figure(s), and some chose to believe in the orders of nature, family, or personal spirituality. I have my own beliefs, but it is in times like these that they are absolutely rocked to the core.
My W&M in DC classmate Megan Henry '08 lost a friend in the Virginia Tech massacre. I can only imagine the turmoil of emotions that she must be feeling-- I hope I can be strong enough to be a rock upon which she can re-ground herself. I'm trying, but I also feel that we need to be able to emote. Breaking down during Cristin's service, which at the time was terribly embarassing, was a great release of so much of what I've been thinking about over the past two months. I really felt cleansed and OK at the end of it. Maybe we just need to let ourselves feel during these times before we close ourselves back up.
Just like all the other things that have tested our individual and national beings, like Hurricane Katrina, Columbine, numerous wars, etc. the VT tragedy will end up being a statistic. But we need to remember the voices, the love, and the souls that were lost on Monday. So, I'm holding those 33 individuals in the light. May they be at peace, and may we never forget.
Every moment marked
With apparitions of your soul
I’m ever swiftly moving
Trying to escape this desire
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
But I have the sense to recognize
That I don’t know how
To let you go
-Sarah McLachlan
I really can't imagine such intense hate and cruel passion. The incredible men and women, professors, staff members and students alike, are all making a difference in the world. In the case of the students, they're going to college so that they can one day make a dent in our lives that, hopefully, makes it a bit better than it was before. They're the next generation of intellectuals, engineers, lovers, actors, writers, musicians, philosophers, professors, historians, activists, and everything in between. They are believers. They believe that they can, through hard work and struggle, change the world around them. And then there are the professors who hope to be able to impart some knowledge that will in turn help infuse the world with hope, optimism, love, and intellect. And now 33 of those voices have been violently stripped from this world.
Maybe I'm slightly more emotional than usual because of Cristin Duprey's memorial service on Saturday (Cristin is a St. Andrew's alum from the Class of 2005 who died in a car accident in February). Will Speers and Tad Roach each spoke at the service and delivered beautiful speeches about Cristin, her life, and her impact on SAS and the world around her. Really, there is no comparison that can be made for Cristin and the VT victims, except that I really have a hard time justifying my own space in the world. We're consistently searching for an answer-- some higher logic-- to why we are here on Earth and why we're in the situation we are. Some chose to believe in a higher being(s), (a) God figure(s), and some chose to believe in the orders of nature, family, or personal spirituality. I have my own beliefs, but it is in times like these that they are absolutely rocked to the core.
My W&M in DC classmate Megan Henry '08 lost a friend in the Virginia Tech massacre. I can only imagine the turmoil of emotions that she must be feeling-- I hope I can be strong enough to be a rock upon which she can re-ground herself. I'm trying, but I also feel that we need to be able to emote. Breaking down during Cristin's service, which at the time was terribly embarassing, was a great release of so much of what I've been thinking about over the past two months. I really felt cleansed and OK at the end of it. Maybe we just need to let ourselves feel during these times before we close ourselves back up.
Just like all the other things that have tested our individual and national beings, like Hurricane Katrina, Columbine, numerous wars, etc. the VT tragedy will end up being a statistic. But we need to remember the voices, the love, and the souls that were lost on Monday. So, I'm holding those 33 individuals in the light. May they be at peace, and may we never forget.
Every moment marked
With apparitions of your soul
I’m ever swiftly moving
Trying to escape this desire
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
But I have the sense to recognize
That I don’t know how
To let you go
-Sarah McLachlan
News Roundup
I'm going to start a little project for this blog. I've been discussing my time here in Washington, DC for this semester, but I realize the need to look beyond this sphere as well. I'm going to start doing a little project where I post the three news articles (or so) that I've found most interesting from that day. Since I only get the Washington Post and New York Times every morning, don't be surprised if they come straight from those sources. However, I'm hoping it's not solely dominated by these outlets. Anyhow, here are some articles I found really interesting:
NYT: The Power of Green
NYT: Almost Human, and Sometimes Smarter
NYT: Is Justin Timberlake a Product of Cumulative Advantage?
NYT: The Power of Green
NYT: Almost Human, and Sometimes Smarter
NYT: Is Justin Timberlake a Product of Cumulative Advantage?
Urban Development and the U Street Corridor
Rick Reinhard, the Deputy Executive Director of Planning and Development for the Downtown DC Business Improvement District (BID), was the leader of our most recent excursion out into the streets and institutions in and around Washington, DC for our Friday class. However, instead of relying on a carefully planned lecture, PowerPoint presentation, or other media, Rick brought us face to face with the heart of our discussion—U Street, and by extension, the trials of urban planning and development.
Before getting too entrenched in the debate of urban planning, development, and revitalization, one must realize the historical significance of the U Street area to Washington, DC. Throughout the early to mid 20th Century, the U Street Corridor was the home for much of the African American communities’ cultural institutions. Nightclubs, swanky bars, jazz and music clubs, shops, exciting restaurants, and galleries packed the area with stimulating options for artistic and cultural inquiry, expansion, and growth. Also, commercial ventures sought the U Street Corridor as an important outlet for their services, so many car dealerships, boutiques, shops, and community-serving agents (lawyers, etc.) moved into the area to capitalize on the market potential. However, following the 1968 race riots that occurred throughout the United States as a reaction to the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the U Street Corridor quickly declined into a state of disrepair, turmoil, and neglect. Continuing until the late 1990s, the area was home to mass violence and crime, which merely perpetuated the derelict nature of the once revered section of Washington, DC. It wasn’t until the mid to late 1990s that the area began to move away from this state through much movement for revitalization, rebuilding, and gentrification on the part of the city and the community.
We began our tour of this historic area by first stopping by the Frank D. Reeves Municipal Center. This large building was one of the first initiatives made by the government to try and revive the U Street area. Important to note is the name of the Center, as Frank D. Reeves was one of the leaders in pressing for the desegregation of schools throughout America. The dedication in Reeves’ honor aligns well with the fact that U Street was a predominantly African-American community. The Center thereby does not work to negate the rich cultural history of the area; rather, it aims to re-establishes the esteem of the area.
Ruminations on The Municipal Center began our discussion of urban planning and development with Rick. He began by referencing much of the literature we had been given to read in preparation for our U Street venture by he delving into the points made by Lynch regarding the physical layout of cities. Instead of merely commenting on the general feel of the area, Rick invited us to dissect all parts of the street corner of U and 14th Streets. How tall are the buildings? What are the materials used to make them? How many windows do they have? Are there any public benches or rest areas? These are the things that one must look at to truly analyze the execution and planning of urban development.
We continued on our walkabout of the U Street Corridor by walking along U Street between 12th and 14th streets. During this point, we touched upon the role of public transportation and apartment housing on a neglected area of the city. While it may seem to be a mistake to put a Metro stop in a place that is incredibly impoverished, due to high crime rates and low usage, it actually raises the value of the surrounding land. However, the issue is usually that the government doesn’t want to take sole responsibility of funding the revitalization effort, so private investors, corporations, or apartment building complexes will often take up the effort alongside the government in funding the Metro. Because land is inexpensive, developers can purchase a large amount of space in which to place their new buildings. This then leads to increased interest in living in the area (due to new and well furbished apartments and condominiums), which breeds greater awareness from businesses, and all of a sudden you have a bustling and revitalized portion of the city.
While this may be one of the main formulas for re-establishing and gentrifying a certain part of the city, who is responsible for bringing the neglected area into the attention of entrepreneurs, developers, and government officials? According to Rick Reinhard, as well as Richard Florida, the “creative class” is the main reason these areas become spots of interest. The “creative class” has much breadth in demographic, but its main constituency is that of young professionals and artists. These people are willing to move into more derelict and ignored areas of town in order to capitalize on the cheap rents of the area, in order to establish their work places, whether they be small, independent shops, boutiques, studios, galleries, or restaurants. By spending less on their living arrangements, they can pump more money and focus into their professional ventures. They are also dubbed the “creative class” because they infuse contemporary thought and creativity into their work and community. They’re responsible for mural painting, compelling visual design, and community-strengthening events. The more interest that the “creative class” brings to an area the more the location becomes revitalized and is soon hailed as “up and coming.”
While I certainly agree with Rick on these parts, he failed to mention an incredibly important demographic in the creative class that Richard Florida does mention: the gay community. It is established that white gay males have an incredible economic potential, above many other social demographics in the United States. Not only are they often economically viable, they also really value strong communities that are focused on being tolerant and open to their lifestyles. This may seem antithetical to their mission, since more often than not neglected areas are places that breed intolerance and hate. However, it is shown historically that the gay community often moves to these spots to escape the heteronormative and hegemonic gentrified areas of the city in order to build a community that respects their ethos. They value the cultural qualities of areas, and so often the gay community and the artistic side of the “creative class” go hand in hand. Examples of these in Washington, DC are the Adams Morgan and Dupont Circle areas. According to Richard Florida, other cities around the United States that have benefited from large outpouring gay revitalization efforts include San Francisco, Austin, and Madison, Wisconsin. Christopher Swope from Governing magazine wrote a large feature article titled “Chasing the Rainbow: Is a Gay Population an Engine of Urban Revival?” in which he borrowed heavily from Florida’s postulations on urban development. He writes, “Gays, it seems, are good at playing the role of “urban pioneers,” making sketchy neighborhoods feel safe enough that young professionals and others will follow.” This builds on Florida’s statement regarding the relationship between gay identity and cultural diversity. He states, “Homosexuality represents the last frontier of diversity in our society, and thus a place that welcomes the gay community welcomes all kinds of people. Openness to the gay community is a good indicator of the low entry barriers to human capital that are so important to spurring creativity and generating high-tech growth.” (Florida, “The Rise of The Creative Class”) I find it quite interesting that Rick relatively ignored the tremendous power in urban revitalization of the gay community. While we were not studying Adams Morgan or Dupont Circle, there is lots of influence from gay people on the new look of U Street. The New York Times article “U Street: The Corridor is Cool Again,” by Alicia Ault makes a point to expose the main appeal of the new U Street look: the diversity of the crowd.
Rick Reinhard definitely led us on an interesting tour, not only through the physical U Street manifestations, but also the theoretical and intellectual approach to urban development, planning, and revitalization. While his main focus lies in the Business Improvement District of DC, often known as “Downtown”, (which is crowded with lots of big name corporate stores interspersed with cultural offerings), Rick showed a great grasp on what it takes to rekindle interest in areas of cities. However, perhaps I side more with Richard Florida than Rick Reinhard, in that I believe the bulk of urban development should be based around the unique forces of the “creative class.” Even so, I know I’ll be traveling back to U Street quite a few more times during my time in Washington, DC. Whether it’s to take advantage of the late-night club activity at Bar Nun or Tabaq, concerts at the Lincoln Theater, a great meal at Ben’s Chili Bowl, an open mic night at the Langston Hughes-inspired Busboys and Poets, or for new shoes at Shoefly, the U Street Corridor offers a diversity of artistic, social, and cultural choices from which to choose.
Before getting too entrenched in the debate of urban planning, development, and revitalization, one must realize the historical significance of the U Street area to Washington, DC. Throughout the early to mid 20th Century, the U Street Corridor was the home for much of the African American communities’ cultural institutions. Nightclubs, swanky bars, jazz and music clubs, shops, exciting restaurants, and galleries packed the area with stimulating options for artistic and cultural inquiry, expansion, and growth. Also, commercial ventures sought the U Street Corridor as an important outlet for their services, so many car dealerships, boutiques, shops, and community-serving agents (lawyers, etc.) moved into the area to capitalize on the market potential. However, following the 1968 race riots that occurred throughout the United States as a reaction to the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the U Street Corridor quickly declined into a state of disrepair, turmoil, and neglect. Continuing until the late 1990s, the area was home to mass violence and crime, which merely perpetuated the derelict nature of the once revered section of Washington, DC. It wasn’t until the mid to late 1990s that the area began to move away from this state through much movement for revitalization, rebuilding, and gentrification on the part of the city and the community.
We began our tour of this historic area by first stopping by the Frank D. Reeves Municipal Center. This large building was one of the first initiatives made by the government to try and revive the U Street area. Important to note is the name of the Center, as Frank D. Reeves was one of the leaders in pressing for the desegregation of schools throughout America. The dedication in Reeves’ honor aligns well with the fact that U Street was a predominantly African-American community. The Center thereby does not work to negate the rich cultural history of the area; rather, it aims to re-establishes the esteem of the area.
Ruminations on The Municipal Center began our discussion of urban planning and development with Rick. He began by referencing much of the literature we had been given to read in preparation for our U Street venture by he delving into the points made by Lynch regarding the physical layout of cities. Instead of merely commenting on the general feel of the area, Rick invited us to dissect all parts of the street corner of U and 14th Streets. How tall are the buildings? What are the materials used to make them? How many windows do they have? Are there any public benches or rest areas? These are the things that one must look at to truly analyze the execution and planning of urban development.
We continued on our walkabout of the U Street Corridor by walking along U Street between 12th and 14th streets. During this point, we touched upon the role of public transportation and apartment housing on a neglected area of the city. While it may seem to be a mistake to put a Metro stop in a place that is incredibly impoverished, due to high crime rates and low usage, it actually raises the value of the surrounding land. However, the issue is usually that the government doesn’t want to take sole responsibility of funding the revitalization effort, so private investors, corporations, or apartment building complexes will often take up the effort alongside the government in funding the Metro. Because land is inexpensive, developers can purchase a large amount of space in which to place their new buildings. This then leads to increased interest in living in the area (due to new and well furbished apartments and condominiums), which breeds greater awareness from businesses, and all of a sudden you have a bustling and revitalized portion of the city.
While this may be one of the main formulas for re-establishing and gentrifying a certain part of the city, who is responsible for bringing the neglected area into the attention of entrepreneurs, developers, and government officials? According to Rick Reinhard, as well as Richard Florida, the “creative class” is the main reason these areas become spots of interest. The “creative class” has much breadth in demographic, but its main constituency is that of young professionals and artists. These people are willing to move into more derelict and ignored areas of town in order to capitalize on the cheap rents of the area, in order to establish their work places, whether they be small, independent shops, boutiques, studios, galleries, or restaurants. By spending less on their living arrangements, they can pump more money and focus into their professional ventures. They are also dubbed the “creative class” because they infuse contemporary thought and creativity into their work and community. They’re responsible for mural painting, compelling visual design, and community-strengthening events. The more interest that the “creative class” brings to an area the more the location becomes revitalized and is soon hailed as “up and coming.”
While I certainly agree with Rick on these parts, he failed to mention an incredibly important demographic in the creative class that Richard Florida does mention: the gay community. It is established that white gay males have an incredible economic potential, above many other social demographics in the United States. Not only are they often economically viable, they also really value strong communities that are focused on being tolerant and open to their lifestyles. This may seem antithetical to their mission, since more often than not neglected areas are places that breed intolerance and hate. However, it is shown historically that the gay community often moves to these spots to escape the heteronormative and hegemonic gentrified areas of the city in order to build a community that respects their ethos. They value the cultural qualities of areas, and so often the gay community and the artistic side of the “creative class” go hand in hand. Examples of these in Washington, DC are the Adams Morgan and Dupont Circle areas. According to Richard Florida, other cities around the United States that have benefited from large outpouring gay revitalization efforts include San Francisco, Austin, and Madison, Wisconsin. Christopher Swope from Governing magazine wrote a large feature article titled “Chasing the Rainbow: Is a Gay Population an Engine of Urban Revival?” in which he borrowed heavily from Florida’s postulations on urban development. He writes, “Gays, it seems, are good at playing the role of “urban pioneers,” making sketchy neighborhoods feel safe enough that young professionals and others will follow.” This builds on Florida’s statement regarding the relationship between gay identity and cultural diversity. He states, “Homosexuality represents the last frontier of diversity in our society, and thus a place that welcomes the gay community welcomes all kinds of people. Openness to the gay community is a good indicator of the low entry barriers to human capital that are so important to spurring creativity and generating high-tech growth.” (Florida, “The Rise of The Creative Class”) I find it quite interesting that Rick relatively ignored the tremendous power in urban revitalization of the gay community. While we were not studying Adams Morgan or Dupont Circle, there is lots of influence from gay people on the new look of U Street. The New York Times article “U Street: The Corridor is Cool Again,” by Alicia Ault makes a point to expose the main appeal of the new U Street look: the diversity of the crowd.
Rick Reinhard definitely led us on an interesting tour, not only through the physical U Street manifestations, but also the theoretical and intellectual approach to urban development, planning, and revitalization. While his main focus lies in the Business Improvement District of DC, often known as “Downtown”, (which is crowded with lots of big name corporate stores interspersed with cultural offerings), Rick showed a great grasp on what it takes to rekindle interest in areas of cities. However, perhaps I side more with Richard Florida than Rick Reinhard, in that I believe the bulk of urban development should be based around the unique forces of the “creative class.” Even so, I know I’ll be traveling back to U Street quite a few more times during my time in Washington, DC. Whether it’s to take advantage of the late-night club activity at Bar Nun or Tabaq, concerts at the Lincoln Theater, a great meal at Ben’s Chili Bowl, an open mic night at the Langston Hughes-inspired Busboys and Poets, or for new shoes at Shoefly, the U Street Corridor offers a diversity of artistic, social, and cultural choices from which to choose.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
"The President's Own"
After a few months of venturing into the Washington, DC concert realm, our Friday venture to the United States Marine Band rehearsal was a harsh awakening to the contextualization, presentation, and execution of music. I’ve been to the Verizon Center to see huge pop and rock stars, to the Kennedy Center for more vernacular and educational performances, and to small night clubs for intimate jazz, blues and laid back shows. I’ve passed countless street performers and heard anti-war songs booming from peace rallies. I have even been involved with late-night jamming sessions with my friends at GWU—creating music as the spirit moved us. I would say I have gotten a good taste for much of the more commercial aimed music throughout Washington, but seeing the Marine Band made me redefine my concept of music in Washington.
The Marine Band is a music ensemble that helps form “The President’s Own,” which also includes the Marine Chamber Orchestra and Marine Chamber Ensembles. On July 11, 1798, The United States Marine Band was created via an Act of Congress, thereby establishing it as the oldest professional musical organization in the history of the United States. Its rich history is scattered with famous names, such as John Philip Sousa, and important duties during war and peace time, but the one unifying thread for the history of “The President’s Own” is its dedication to excellence in musical technique and performance. Members of the United States Marine Band hold advanced degrees, Ph.D.s, and teach their craft. They come from some of the most selective schools and conservatories in the world. Virtuosity is basically considered a given with any member of the Marine Band. Being in the presence of such accomplished musicians is certainly awe-inspiring, if not slightly intimidating.
It was noon on Friday, and our class processed into the very larger rehearsal room. Immediately, we were met with about eighty musicians milling about, talking to one another, laughing, and tuning instruments. They all were dressed in normal, pedestrian clothes, which greatly contrasted with the pomp and circumstance of the United States Marine Band uniform. Also, everyone seemed to be fairly relaxed and laid-back. I almost didn’t believe that this group of people could be considered some of the finest band musicians in the world—where were the long, black dresses and beautifully tailored dinner jackets? Or rather, where were their uniforms, with the gorgeous gold buttons, black and white ornaments and rich red coats? The lights were all lit, thereby neglecting to bring attention to the performers. It all seemed a bit sacrilegious—we were witnessing the inner workings of one of the most highly respected ensembles in American music history without being able to pay proper homage to their ability and virtuosity. After each piece they finished, we didn’t know whether to applaud or stay silent, so the most prudent response seemed to be to stay quiet. But, shouldn’t be showing our appreciation for their musical gift?
One of the most impressive parts of the Marine Band is their transcription of classical pieces into a band setting. There are no violins, violas, or cellos in the Band, which therefore presents an interesting observation and question. One is so used to seeing the violins, violas and cellos sit closest to the audience and circling the conductor, so does the removal of these instruments juxtaposed with the presentation of the same music decrease the legitimacy of the United States Marine Band? Does simply recontextualizing the music into a band setting decrease its effectiveness, beauty, and authenticity? At first I would have answered with a “probably,” but after seeing the rehearsal I would answer with a resounding “No!” From the first few notes of Debussy’s “Premiere Rhapsodie,” to the commanding movements of Borodin’s “Polovetsian Dances from Prince Igor” and finally to the sweet melody and beautiful backdrop of Strauss’ “Allerseelen” and “Zueignung,” the United States Marine Band provided the same aesthetic of a full-fledged orchestra. There were quiet moments full of introspection and prudence, wild timpani-led movements, brilliant arpeggios, honeyed melody lines, carefully executed harmonies, luminous counter-melodies, and amazing climaxes. I felt the same gamut of emotions that one experiences at a concert of Tchaikovsky, Brahms, and Copeland.
So, what was the real effect of witnessing a rehearsal, rather than a full performance? For one, much of the pomp and circumstance of the band’s physicality and stage presence was lost. Also, much of the standard performance conventions for this type of music were not adhered to, such as lowered lighting, usher staff, and an intent and quiet audience. We witnessed multiple times when Assistant Conductor Captain Michelle A. Rakers stopped the band to work out the kinks in certain passages, which would never have happened during a performance. Also, at one point soprano soloist Staff Sergeant Sara Dell’Omo (the first featured female soloist for the United States Marine Band) remarked on how “nervous” we made her, thereby creating a concrete and weighted relationship between us as audience and her as performer. However, these minor distractions and technicalities did not at all detract from the performance, and the reason for this lies in the virtuosity and sheer skill of the musicians. The music stood on its own and provided the legitimacy for the performance. I really didn’t feel it was a rehearsal as much, simply because everyone knew their part so well that they didn’t need to stop to work out difficult sections too often. It was a mind-blowing experience—not only because we were so close to one of the most important and the oldest professional musical organization in American history, but also because it was a band rather than an orchestra. This rehearsal definitely taught me a very important lesson for musical expression: forget the pomp and circumstance and just listen. You may be pleasantly surprised.
The Marine Band is a music ensemble that helps form “The President’s Own,” which also includes the Marine Chamber Orchestra and Marine Chamber Ensembles. On July 11, 1798, The United States Marine Band was created via an Act of Congress, thereby establishing it as the oldest professional musical organization in the history of the United States. Its rich history is scattered with famous names, such as John Philip Sousa, and important duties during war and peace time, but the one unifying thread for the history of “The President’s Own” is its dedication to excellence in musical technique and performance. Members of the United States Marine Band hold advanced degrees, Ph.D.s, and teach their craft. They come from some of the most selective schools and conservatories in the world. Virtuosity is basically considered a given with any member of the Marine Band. Being in the presence of such accomplished musicians is certainly awe-inspiring, if not slightly intimidating.
It was noon on Friday, and our class processed into the very larger rehearsal room. Immediately, we were met with about eighty musicians milling about, talking to one another, laughing, and tuning instruments. They all were dressed in normal, pedestrian clothes, which greatly contrasted with the pomp and circumstance of the United States Marine Band uniform. Also, everyone seemed to be fairly relaxed and laid-back. I almost didn’t believe that this group of people could be considered some of the finest band musicians in the world—where were the long, black dresses and beautifully tailored dinner jackets? Or rather, where were their uniforms, with the gorgeous gold buttons, black and white ornaments and rich red coats? The lights were all lit, thereby neglecting to bring attention to the performers. It all seemed a bit sacrilegious—we were witnessing the inner workings of one of the most highly respected ensembles in American music history without being able to pay proper homage to their ability and virtuosity. After each piece they finished, we didn’t know whether to applaud or stay silent, so the most prudent response seemed to be to stay quiet. But, shouldn’t be showing our appreciation for their musical gift?
One of the most impressive parts of the Marine Band is their transcription of classical pieces into a band setting. There are no violins, violas, or cellos in the Band, which therefore presents an interesting observation and question. One is so used to seeing the violins, violas and cellos sit closest to the audience and circling the conductor, so does the removal of these instruments juxtaposed with the presentation of the same music decrease the legitimacy of the United States Marine Band? Does simply recontextualizing the music into a band setting decrease its effectiveness, beauty, and authenticity? At first I would have answered with a “probably,” but after seeing the rehearsal I would answer with a resounding “No!” From the first few notes of Debussy’s “Premiere Rhapsodie,” to the commanding movements of Borodin’s “Polovetsian Dances from Prince Igor” and finally to the sweet melody and beautiful backdrop of Strauss’ “Allerseelen” and “Zueignung,” the United States Marine Band provided the same aesthetic of a full-fledged orchestra. There were quiet moments full of introspection and prudence, wild timpani-led movements, brilliant arpeggios, honeyed melody lines, carefully executed harmonies, luminous counter-melodies, and amazing climaxes. I felt the same gamut of emotions that one experiences at a concert of Tchaikovsky, Brahms, and Copeland.
So, what was the real effect of witnessing a rehearsal, rather than a full performance? For one, much of the pomp and circumstance of the band’s physicality and stage presence was lost. Also, much of the standard performance conventions for this type of music were not adhered to, such as lowered lighting, usher staff, and an intent and quiet audience. We witnessed multiple times when Assistant Conductor Captain Michelle A. Rakers stopped the band to work out the kinks in certain passages, which would never have happened during a performance. Also, at one point soprano soloist Staff Sergeant Sara Dell’Omo (the first featured female soloist for the United States Marine Band) remarked on how “nervous” we made her, thereby creating a concrete and weighted relationship between us as audience and her as performer. However, these minor distractions and technicalities did not at all detract from the performance, and the reason for this lies in the virtuosity and sheer skill of the musicians. The music stood on its own and provided the legitimacy for the performance. I really didn’t feel it was a rehearsal as much, simply because everyone knew their part so well that they didn’t need to stop to work out difficult sections too often. It was a mind-blowing experience—not only because we were so close to one of the most important and the oldest professional musical organization in American history, but also because it was a band rather than an orchestra. This rehearsal definitely taught me a very important lesson for musical expression: forget the pomp and circumstance and just listen. You may be pleasantly surprised.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Creating an Elite in a Public Art Institution
The Smithsonian Institution is meant for public consumption—the museums stay open for roughly 8 or 9 hours a day, many programs and lectures are constantly held in the spaces, and the collections and exhibitions are on view almost 365 days a year. The motivation behind the Institution is to impart artistic, scientific, and human excellence to every person that walks through the doors of each museum, whether they’re a DC local, tour group from Japan, student class trip, a couple from Eastern Europe, or a random straggler from the Midwest. The art and science is meant for everyone—a completely inclusive experience for all types of people. However, many times there is a divide drawn between the common man and the member, donor, or associate. This divide breeds exclusivity in a sphere supposedly dominated by an inclusive ethos.
To become a member of the Hirshhorn Museum & Sculpture Garden, one joins the “Annual Circle.” The fact that the membership has a separate name is an interesting question in and of itself—by linguistically delineating a difference between membership and this new title does one gain increased agency? By changing the name, is the creation of a membership not seen as a membership, but rather is elevated to a symbolic donor level? While it is hard for me to answer these questions definitively, from my point of view, memberships to museums are inevitable. Perhaps I feel this way because of my capitalist background, but because the government funds the arts so pathetically I believe it’s only logical that museums seek the financial support of individual donors. To quote the Hirshhorn’s website on the role of membership funding, “Although federal monies provide partial funding for daily operations, contributions from individuals, foundations, and corporations extend the museum's ability to present the art of our time to the greatest number of people. The importance of giving to the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden has never been greater.” Therefore, museums create memberships that give special access to people who are willing to sustain the museum. However, in a way to create a heightened exclusivity under the guise of nonchalance, many institutions adopt new names for their membership program. So, the Hirshhorn Museum calls their members “Annual Circle members.” If one really wants to be fastidious, one could analyze the usage of the word circle as metaphorically created an “in” group and an “out/beyond” group.
Memberships to the Hirshhorn Museum start at the $100 level. From then up, there are amount divisions, each with a separate name. So, if one gives $150, one is labeled part of the Associate’s Circle, $1000 allows entry into the Friend’s Circle, and $25,000 and above is part of the Director’s Circle. Each continues to use word “circle” to create a sense of friendship, community, and intimacy. However, at the $2500 level, one becomes privately invited to our wildly popular “Meet the Artist” series, which is open free to the public. I got to witness the result of this on my third day of work during the Matthew Barney lecture. People traveled five hours or more to come see experimental guru Matthew Barney speak at the Hirshhorn about the theatricality and vision for his most recent works in his Drawing Restraint series, as well as the influence of Joseph Beuys on his work. Because the event was open to the public, people began showing up five hours early to secure a place in line, and hence a ticket to the event. The lecture was held in the Hirshhorn’s Ring Auditorium, which seats 272 people, in order to maintain a level of intimacy requested by Barney and co-lecturer Nancy Spector. About 60 tickets were reserved for staff, press, and friends of the artists. Then, about 60 tickets were held for trustees, donors, and any members above the $2500 level. This left 150 tickets for the public. The tickets were being distributed to the first 150 people in line at 5:45 PM. By 5 PM, about 200 people were lined up in the lobby. By 5:45 PM, about 500 people were waiting for tickets to the event. I had to act as crowd control and bouncer for the event (slightly ironic, I realize!), but all I could offer was for the people who were turned away to watch the simultaneous live webcast of the event. While it was a poor consolation, the capacity limits did not allow us any other choice. In the end, about 900 people had showed up for 150 seats. Some people were understanding, but many were angry, pissed off, and downright rude. I had to deal with many heated situations, including one where two girls had skipped college classes to travel to DC to see the event. They were art students, idolized Matthew Barney, and said they couldn’t really afford to come, but they sacrificed to see him speak. When they found out that a number of seats had been reserved for high-level donors, they flipped out. They were absolutely fuming, saying that those donors were just rich assholes who didn’t really realize the power of art. The girls continued by saying that the Hirshhorn was corrupt for catering to donors because of its status as a public arts museum. While I certainly can sympathize with their anger, I started to question if they were onto something. Are we breeding elitism by separating donor and public? Are we saying to the public that they’re not good enough because their pockets aren’t as deep as others?
It’s a hard break—museums cannot afford to run themselves on federal budgets alone, so they have to in turn cater to their financial supporters by granting special access and privileges. Is this antithetical to their mission as a public institution? Not necessarily. But it’s a very careful line that museum administrative officers and staff must walk—show your donors how much their donation means by providing benefits while also remaining focused on the public. It’s hard to play two games at once, and this conflict can often lead to incredibly contempt and enmity.
To become a member of the Hirshhorn Museum & Sculpture Garden, one joins the “Annual Circle.” The fact that the membership has a separate name is an interesting question in and of itself—by linguistically delineating a difference between membership and this new title does one gain increased agency? By changing the name, is the creation of a membership not seen as a membership, but rather is elevated to a symbolic donor level? While it is hard for me to answer these questions definitively, from my point of view, memberships to museums are inevitable. Perhaps I feel this way because of my capitalist background, but because the government funds the arts so pathetically I believe it’s only logical that museums seek the financial support of individual donors. To quote the Hirshhorn’s website on the role of membership funding, “Although federal monies provide partial funding for daily operations, contributions from individuals, foundations, and corporations extend the museum's ability to present the art of our time to the greatest number of people. The importance of giving to the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden has never been greater.” Therefore, museums create memberships that give special access to people who are willing to sustain the museum. However, in a way to create a heightened exclusivity under the guise of nonchalance, many institutions adopt new names for their membership program. So, the Hirshhorn Museum calls their members “Annual Circle members.” If one really wants to be fastidious, one could analyze the usage of the word circle as metaphorically created an “in” group and an “out/beyond” group.
Memberships to the Hirshhorn Museum start at the $100 level. From then up, there are amount divisions, each with a separate name. So, if one gives $150, one is labeled part of the Associate’s Circle, $1000 allows entry into the Friend’s Circle, and $25,000 and above is part of the Director’s Circle. Each continues to use word “circle” to create a sense of friendship, community, and intimacy. However, at the $2500 level, one becomes privately invited to our wildly popular “Meet the Artist” series, which is open free to the public. I got to witness the result of this on my third day of work during the Matthew Barney lecture. People traveled five hours or more to come see experimental guru Matthew Barney speak at the Hirshhorn about the theatricality and vision for his most recent works in his Drawing Restraint series, as well as the influence of Joseph Beuys on his work. Because the event was open to the public, people began showing up five hours early to secure a place in line, and hence a ticket to the event. The lecture was held in the Hirshhorn’s Ring Auditorium, which seats 272 people, in order to maintain a level of intimacy requested by Barney and co-lecturer Nancy Spector. About 60 tickets were reserved for staff, press, and friends of the artists. Then, about 60 tickets were held for trustees, donors, and any members above the $2500 level. This left 150 tickets for the public. The tickets were being distributed to the first 150 people in line at 5:45 PM. By 5 PM, about 200 people were lined up in the lobby. By 5:45 PM, about 500 people were waiting for tickets to the event. I had to act as crowd control and bouncer for the event (slightly ironic, I realize!), but all I could offer was for the people who were turned away to watch the simultaneous live webcast of the event. While it was a poor consolation, the capacity limits did not allow us any other choice. In the end, about 900 people had showed up for 150 seats. Some people were understanding, but many were angry, pissed off, and downright rude. I had to deal with many heated situations, including one where two girls had skipped college classes to travel to DC to see the event. They were art students, idolized Matthew Barney, and said they couldn’t really afford to come, but they sacrificed to see him speak. When they found out that a number of seats had been reserved for high-level donors, they flipped out. They were absolutely fuming, saying that those donors were just rich assholes who didn’t really realize the power of art. The girls continued by saying that the Hirshhorn was corrupt for catering to donors because of its status as a public arts museum. While I certainly can sympathize with their anger, I started to question if they were onto something. Are we breeding elitism by separating donor and public? Are we saying to the public that they’re not good enough because their pockets aren’t as deep as others?
It’s a hard break—museums cannot afford to run themselves on federal budgets alone, so they have to in turn cater to their financial supporters by granting special access and privileges. Is this antithetical to their mission as a public institution? Not necessarily. But it’s a very careful line that museum administrative officers and staff must walk—show your donors how much their donation means by providing benefits while also remaining focused on the public. It’s hard to play two games at once, and this conflict can often lead to incredibly contempt and enmity.
Friday, March 30, 2007
A Theater on the Most Famous Street in DC
In our twenty-first century cultural paradigm, nomenclature and semantics are often the battlegrounds upon which wars of political correctness and labeling are waged. In Washington, DC, the history of linguistic institutional identification contains arguments regarding the appropriate labels for governmental, economic, and cultural organizations, which, more often than not, have been used to place them above other comparable or superior institutions around the nation. For example, the National Theater is titled as such, which thereby suggests the role of this theater as the premier and most important one in the United States; however, many would disagree and cry out that New York Broadway theaters, or old historical theaters scattered along the coasts, should share some of this fame. How can one specific venue represent the vast and widespread cultural values inherent in American theater?
The history of the National Theater is quite illustrious in its unique position as one of the most important cultural institutions in Washington, DC. It opened (and still resides) on Pennsylvania Ave, which at the time was the only road with consistent street lighting. The location is in close proximity to the White House, which has led to a quite strong relationship between the Theater and the Presidency. In 2005, the Theater celebrated 150 years of almost continual presentation, and thereby is marked as the oldest cultural institution in Washington. While the building itself has suffered many fires, renovations, and refurbishments, it remains in the same location where it opened in 1835.
In its early history, the Theater rooted itself with a strong influence of British, French, and West European theatre traditions, conventions, and aesthetics. However, soon American vernacular theatre began to rise in popularity, and the National Theater was quick to display works that would not only appeal to the Washington populace but would also sell tickets. As current General Manager Harry Teter explained to our group of W&M interns, the Theater is economically fueled by donor gifts and ticket sales, making it a completely commercial venue. One may question why there is a lack of government subsidizing, such as at the Kennedy Center, NEA, or Library of Congress, and the list of answers is long and varied; however, one of the main reasons is that the Theater wants to have complete control over its workings, decisions, and calendar of shows. One must point out, though, that the program is fairly homogenous and fairly embedded in the conventions of contemporary popular theater, so works from Broadway, works with celebrity actors, or highly-regarded pieces win out over those which are a bit more avant-garde.
What is interesting to point out in discussing the history of theater in America is that America, as a country and cultural hub, has had a great amount of influence on the craft. Perhaps one of the most important contributions the United States have made to any artistic field has been the musical, which until the twentieth century had barely been touched upon. Certainly opera was engrained in European society, but the advent of the musical brought about a whole new area of theater that was unexplored, virgin, and exciting. So, if one looks at the twentieth-century history of theater, one begins to realize the huge role that America has played in shaping theater conventions by completely revolutionizing the field. It is because of this that the National Theater has been an excellent venue to showcase classic and vernacular American arts, because most of the musicals that are produced come out of New York City. Whereas places like the Kennedy Center and other institutions can rely on a varied calendar of programs that is reflective of world tendencies and reflections on the arts, the National Theater is in an almost unique position in that it presents basically a collection of American theater works.
Our class had the wonderful opportunity to visit the Theater, speak with the engaging and interesting General Manager Harry Teter, and attend the show “Doubt.” This piece is a straight play that received an incredible critical response while playing on Broadway. It encompasses issues of religion, sexual indecency, the patriarchy and its relationship to women, education, race, class, and overall the human condition. Mixing humor with issues of extreme gravity, the play is effective in electrifying the viewer and keeping them interested throughout the whole show.
On a simply material and slightly superficial note, the color scheme and interior design of the Theater is quite egregious—pink (or rather, corrupted salmon) and mint green provide a color landscape that looks very worn out, tired, and tacky. The lighting is dark and spotty, and the seats are not as plush as I would have expected. However, as soon as the play began, I realized it is not so much about the presentation anymore as much as it is about the artistic presentation at the National Theater. Sure, an interior such as found at the Nederlander Theater or the Schubert in New York City would be nothing short of grand and inspiring, but when a theatre can provide an excellent calendar of programs and shows, I can forgive their short-sighted interior design. I look forward to heading back to the National Theater, especially since they’re putting on “Avenue Q” and the wildly popular and raucous “Spamalot!” I’m sure it will be a fantastic time, just like we had seeing “Doubt.”
Thursday, March 1, 2007
The NEA-- An Almost Silent Fight
Here is a reflection I wrote on a visit to the National Endowment of the Arts. We went as a class last Friday, and these are a few words in regards to the scope of the institution and our visit there.
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Perhaps for the first time since coming to Washington, I really understood the usage of the word “national” after visiting the National Endowment for the Arts. Mind you, I have yet to step foot in many of our nation’s hallowed institutions, which tout the title “national” as not only a placeholder but a status symbol as well; however, the breadth, grandeur and actuality of this word really became applicable and realized at the NEA. Its mission is fairly simple, compared to many other places around our nation’s capital—to fund worthwhile artistic ventures that seek to promote, enrich, and diversify cultural energy, experience and life in and beyond the United States of America. Excellence is seen as a cross between colloquial appeal and widespread relevance, which thereby denotes attentiveness to American and global folk culture and helps bring a varied group of voices to new ears.
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Perhaps for the first time since coming to Washington, I really understood the usage of the word “national” after visiting the National Endowment for the Arts. Mind you, I have yet to step foot in many of our nation’s hallowed institutions, which tout the title “national” as not only a placeholder but a status symbol as well; however, the breadth, grandeur and actuality of this word really became applicable and realized at the NEA. Its mission is fairly simple, compared to many other places around our nation’s capital—to fund worthwhile artistic ventures that seek to promote, enrich, and diversify cultural energy, experience and life in and beyond the United States of America. Excellence is seen as a cross between colloquial appeal and widespread relevance, which thereby denotes attentiveness to American and global folk culture and helps bring a varied group of voices to new ears.
Much of the same rhetoric was used in creating the NEA as was instated for the Kennedy Center. To quote the National Foundation on the Arts and the Humanities Act of 1965, “While no government can call a great artist or scholar into existence, it is necessary and appropriate for the Federal Government to help create and sustain not only a climate encouraging freedom of thought, imagination, and inquiry, but also the material conditions facilitating the release of this creative talent.” One must take into account the climate of the time in which this Act was passed—Kennedy had recently been assassinated, America was facing ever-increasing responsibility on the global stage, and the development that would in turn label the US as a global superpower was much underway. Still under the shadow of WWII, yet distancing itself a little from the incredible work ethic and industrial genesis of the 1950s, America began to realize the extent of its clout.
In my mind, the creation of the NEA was not seen by the police-makers and government officials in DC as a chance to enhance the diversified folk sub-cultures in America, but rather to act as a symbol of the nation’s dedication to institutions of higher culture and refined nature. It was a chance to gain credibility globally, because while the Work Projects Administration served the purpose in the 1930s of raising local morale, creating jobs and sparking the economy, the NEA and Kennedy Center would prove to competing nations that the United States was equally, if not more, well-rounded and cultured. During a speech at Amherst College on October 26, 1963, President John F. Kennedy said, “I look forward to an America which will steadily raise the standards of artistic accomplishment and which will steadily enlarge cultural opportunities for all our citizens.” While this is certainly a great step forward for national recognition of the role of the arts in society, one must ask: what arts are being celebrated? The quotation above is taken from the dedication of a new library and tribute to Robert Frost, who was seen as a great All-American poet. Respected artists included poets William Carlos Williams, photographer Ansel Adams, experimental artist Jackson Pollock, painter Norman Rockwell, authors Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mark Twain, and Emily Dickinson, sculptor Alexander Calder, and painters Georgia O’Keeffe and N.C. Wyeth. These artists, from a wide variety of fields and artistic mediums, all were instrumental in revolutionizing their areas of expertise by creating either new pathways or redefining cultural standards of excellence. But, all of these innovative and significant people were celebrity artists. One did not hear Kennedy touting the importance of the Native American tribal dancers and musicians, Alaskan Inuit artists, Appalachian balladeers, or Bayou folk jazz; rather, it seems to me that the creation of the NEA was rooted in upholding artistic icons and transmitting them globally.
This history of the NEA provides a quite intriguing look into the role of the institution post-genesis. In its early years, divisions of fund redirection were created for differing types of artistic pursuits: theater, music, dance, education, visual arts, and literature. Interestingly enough, theater received a hefty percentage of the Endowment’s funds. In 1967, $1,007,500 was set aside for theatrical grants. This year is also important because it denotes the time when the Endowment funded the incredibly controversial theatrical production of “The Great White Hope” at the Arena Stage in Washington, DC. This play, featuring new-comers James Earl Jones and Jane Alexander as the lead actors, is a look at the nature of racism in America through the lens of boxing. Jones’ character, based on boxer Jack Johnson, deals with the immense racism from all areas—white boxers refuse to compete with him, the general public rebuff his ability and credibility, and an interracial relationship with Alexander’s character show him the depths of racism in America. While the play was a success and ended up winning three Tony Awards and the 1969 Pulitzer Prize, the Arena Stage production brought much controversy and hostility.
Not all grants given by the NEA during its earlier years funded contentious productions and strived to push national conceptions of race, religion, sexuality, gender, power, and class. Struggling ballet companies, writing workshops, child enrichment programs, and architectural initiatives all received grants from the Endowment to help fund their outreach and execution of their ideals. And through the early years, the annual budget for the Endowment continued to grow. Under Nixon’s appointment, Nancy Hanks, NEA director from 1969-1977, pushed for more funding, and by the end of her tenure the budget had grown from the $7.8 million of 1969 to $94 million. During Hank’s tenure at the organization, many respected artists became involved in the grant selection process, including luminaries such as Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Toni Morrison, Harold Prince, Roy Lichtenstein, and Robert Shaw. The NEA had become a reputable institution to which many artists were devoted. There seemed to be a reciprocal relationship—a metaphorical intellectual marriage between artist and organization, which generated credibility for the NEA. Then, in 1978, the Folk Arts Program was made separate from the Special Projects section of the NEA’s funding. While there had always been recognition of the importance of American folk arts, this was the sea change in support from the organization. Bess Lomax Hawes, relative of esteemed folk archivists Alan and John Lomax, helped form the Folk Arts program and direction, through establishing an evaluative method. She examined the art through criteria such as infrastructure, production, recognition, and relevance. In 1982, the National Heritage Fellowships in Folk Arts were distributed to fifteen folk artists.
In the 1990s, a massive struggle between the NEA and federal government ensued after two controversial pieces sparked national enmity. In 1996, after a few years of pressures from Congress, the NEA’s budget was reduced by 39 percent, thereby forcing the staff to be cut by 47 percent and many grant allocations eradicated. A growing conservative outlook on the Arts in America had been seeping into congressional and public mindset since the beginning of the decade. Therefore, to eliminate artistic controversy, Congress decided to severely punish the NEA for pursuing its goals set out by its founding directors and program heads. But one must ask, why wasn’t this done in 1967, when “The Great White Hope” produced an outcry of public resentment? Although the Endowment was in its genesis stage, and the government couldn’t afford to go back on the words of Kennedy, Johnson, and other influential public figures calling for the creation of such an organization, why weren’t there greater censorship? Nowadays, censorship is attempted through budget cuts and legal restrictions. By cutting the NEA’s funding to under $100 million (from $170 million), Congress sought to do more than a slap on the wrist—the message was clear: support the arts, but only if they don’t piss people off.
This rhetoric is echoed throughout Washington, from the National Gallery of Art to the Smithsonian Museums and to basically any cultural establishment that receives federal funding. Conservative exhibitions, collections, and presentations flourish, mainly due to the fear of losing federal financial backing. So often we, as members of the fairly artistically and art historically uneducated public, look up to these monuments of artistic relevance and conversation to help guide us in our search to understand, appreciate, and define art. This is not to negate the significance and influence of the masters—the celebrity artists—whose role has been to shape and change a widespread conception of art, its direction and its purpose, but to question the total lack of questioning amongst the audience. Few people ask for controversial subjects and artists from these Washington institutions because they’ve become used to conservative manifestation of art display. Unfortunately, in a country where funding for the arts is at a frightening low, it’s really not a surprise that the government is reluctant to seriously support the arts. Up against unduly scant funding and a traditionalist, oft-static, and feisty Congress, the NEA has had to play its role very carefully post-1996. By increasing dedication to folk arts and communities and continuing to support exquisite artistic performances and ventures, the NEA has simply been doing what it has always done—endows the arts that deserve the recognition and funding. Perhaps they’ve become a bit more formal and conservative in their language and presentation (there’s little to no discussion of the 1996 government conflict on the website), but they’ve been able to build back up some government support. However, they’ve also had to rely on the help and influence of fellow artists, who in a way have become mentors to younger NEA followers. Gone are the days of Lomax Hawes, Nancy Hanks, and Kennedy’s optimism, and in are corporate sponsorships, private donors, and saturated marketing spheres. The NEA has had to reinvent itself in the past decade, and regrettably, there still persists the threat that the organization could still be eradicated.
Monday, February 19, 2007
3rd Week Recap
Today, my professor for the W&M in Washington Program asked us to write a short reflection on any "disappointment, despair, or dilemma" that we have had thus far at our internships. I couldn't really come up with one real instance, as I haven't come across anything that awful over the past 3 weeks. Therefore, I wrote this reflection on how a lack of context before launching into a completely novel experience can leave one feeling quite lost and frustrated. So, here it is-- the supposedly "darker" shades of my time at the Hirshhorn Museum.
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So far during my internship at the Hirshhorn Museum, working in the Marketing and Communications Department, I have encountered fairly minimal amounts of disappointment or despair. Actually, I feel incredibly blessed to work with such a supportive staff and a supervisor who is genuinely appreciative and thankful for the work that I do on a daily basis. Upon starting at the Hirshhorn, everyone I met was kind, generous, and engaged me in conversation. I would walk down the hallways to fetch computer printouts, make copies, or fix a new cup of tea, and I would have two or three conversations with other staff members. They all made me feel like a major part of the team—that I was just as important of an asset, as an intern, as I could be. It has made the past few weeks a joy. I look forward to waking up in the morning and going to work, because I know that I will be expanding my sphere of knowledge, professionalism, and work ethic.
As is the case with many things that we love, there are parts of the experience that are less than desirable and pleasant. For me, it’s a bit more of a general feeling rather than any specific citable experiences of immense disappointment that lead me to some incredible frustration. I threw myself into a world about which I knew very little. I decided to bypass my sensibility and prudence and choose an internship that would push me and make me really become responsible for learning on my own, without the guidance and structure of college courses. Instead of choose an internship working with curatorial departments at the Freer Gallery, Phillips Collection, or National Museum of Women in the Arts, I chose the Hirshhorn because I would be working in a department I knew very little about (Marketing), and I did not recognize one piece of artwork in the entire collection.
To go into a space as hallowed and respected as a Smithsonian Institute’s museum and not know anything about the history of the space, the material, or the collection is incredibly daunting. Unlike the National Museum of the American Indian, where one could pull open childhood reminisces of The Indian and the Cupboard, old movies, or American History lessons, or the Air and Space Museum, where one could remember the footage of the first moon walk, stories of the Wright Brothers in the Outer Banks, or the tragic disappearance of Amelia Earhart, the Hirshhorn does not lend a vernacular common with the majority of Americans. It showcases pieces from the international art community of the past hundred years, and it focuses on the oft controversial, compelling, challenging, brooding, complex, and at times opaque pieces of modern and contemporary art. While I knew nothing of esteemed artists as Alexander Calder, Dan Flavin, Wolfgang Tillmans, John Baldessari, Chryssa, Hiroshi Sugimoto, Pae White, or Virgil Marti, I knew that I wanted to get to know them.
I remember reading about the Hirshhorn Museum on Wikipedia and coming across a striking quote by former Secretary of the Smithsonian Institute S. Dillon Ripley. In discussion of the Museum’s architecture, he wrote, "If it were not controversial in almost every way it would hardly qualify as a place to house contemporary art. For it must somehow be symbolic of the material it is designed to encase." He references the circular nature of the Hirshhorn’s physicality, which is arresting in its 1970s inspired starkness and minimalism. It was this quote that drew me into the Hirshhorn—the more I read about it, the more it began to encompass much of what I was seeking in an institution and an internship position—a chance to use ordinary mediums to challenge conventions and stereotypes.
However, this is so much easier said than done. I go to work every day for eight or nine hours, completing tasks such as scanning of press clips, photocopying critical current essays, magazine texts and newspaper reviews, completion of various Excel tables, calculating attendance figures for exhibitions, writing formal letters to members of the press, preparing press releases, editing pieces of writing, collating reports, organizing the office, and running various errands. How am I challenging contemporary social conventions through this work? Wasn’t my goal, my scope, for this internship to be able to be a part of a sea change? Yes. And in a way, I am working towards and for that. I’m representing an institution that brings experimental and significant characters like Matthew Barney, Wolfgang Tillmans, and Noguchi to the American public. I’m helping distribute a product that helps defy tradition and works to expand one’s worldview and concepts regarding art. But this frustration of being caught up in the logistics is my biggest challenge at the Hirshhorn Museum. I have yet to come into contact with any staff member with whom I butt heads, any supervisor or boss hasn’t yelled me at, and I haven’t felt belittled, insignificant, or worthless. On the contrary, I have been brought into a close-knit family that truly values the contributions I make on a daily basis. But, every night I come home, open up the two or three magazines, like Harper’s Bazaar, Vogue, ARTnews, Art in America, Wallpaper, Elle, Interior Design, The Washingtonian, the New Yorker, or Artforum, which have been assigned to me by my supervisor to keep a keen pulse on the contemporary fashion and art world, and I can’t help feeling lost. I’m lost because I am trying to cram so much information on trends, threads of style and form, and definitions that I am losing sight of my mission. I’m learning that Matthew Barney and Joseph Beuys share many of the same defining artistic characteristics of overt theatricality and anti-minimalism. I expanding at an increasing rate, and yet I can’t help but feel at times that I’m losing my vision and sense of direction. But, I think that this is all part of the experience of getting to know something so utterly foreign as modern and contemporary art is to my world. I cannot expect to show up every day and understand perfectly why we are showing a comprehensive collection of Wolfgang Tillmans’ photography, or the reasons why the Visual Music exhibition from two years ago was such a complete success in the art world. I’m still completely in the beginner stage, but I cannot help but feel lost and frustrated at times because of my lack of familiarity with the space around me everyday.
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So far during my internship at the Hirshhorn Museum, working in the Marketing and Communications Department, I have encountered fairly minimal amounts of disappointment or despair. Actually, I feel incredibly blessed to work with such a supportive staff and a supervisor who is genuinely appreciative and thankful for the work that I do on a daily basis. Upon starting at the Hirshhorn, everyone I met was kind, generous, and engaged me in conversation. I would walk down the hallways to fetch computer printouts, make copies, or fix a new cup of tea, and I would have two or three conversations with other staff members. They all made me feel like a major part of the team—that I was just as important of an asset, as an intern, as I could be. It has made the past few weeks a joy. I look forward to waking up in the morning and going to work, because I know that I will be expanding my sphere of knowledge, professionalism, and work ethic.
As is the case with many things that we love, there are parts of the experience that are less than desirable and pleasant. For me, it’s a bit more of a general feeling rather than any specific citable experiences of immense disappointment that lead me to some incredible frustration. I threw myself into a world about which I knew very little. I decided to bypass my sensibility and prudence and choose an internship that would push me and make me really become responsible for learning on my own, without the guidance and structure of college courses. Instead of choose an internship working with curatorial departments at the Freer Gallery, Phillips Collection, or National Museum of Women in the Arts, I chose the Hirshhorn because I would be working in a department I knew very little about (Marketing), and I did not recognize one piece of artwork in the entire collection.
To go into a space as hallowed and respected as a Smithsonian Institute’s museum and not know anything about the history of the space, the material, or the collection is incredibly daunting. Unlike the National Museum of the American Indian, where one could pull open childhood reminisces of The Indian and the Cupboard, old movies, or American History lessons, or the Air and Space Museum, where one could remember the footage of the first moon walk, stories of the Wright Brothers in the Outer Banks, or the tragic disappearance of Amelia Earhart, the Hirshhorn does not lend a vernacular common with the majority of Americans. It showcases pieces from the international art community of the past hundred years, and it focuses on the oft controversial, compelling, challenging, brooding, complex, and at times opaque pieces of modern and contemporary art. While I knew nothing of esteemed artists as Alexander Calder, Dan Flavin, Wolfgang Tillmans, John Baldessari, Chryssa, Hiroshi Sugimoto, Pae White, or Virgil Marti, I knew that I wanted to get to know them.
I remember reading about the Hirshhorn Museum on Wikipedia and coming across a striking quote by former Secretary of the Smithsonian Institute S. Dillon Ripley. In discussion of the Museum’s architecture, he wrote, "If it were not controversial in almost every way it would hardly qualify as a place to house contemporary art. For it must somehow be symbolic of the material it is designed to encase." He references the circular nature of the Hirshhorn’s physicality, which is arresting in its 1970s inspired starkness and minimalism. It was this quote that drew me into the Hirshhorn—the more I read about it, the more it began to encompass much of what I was seeking in an institution and an internship position—a chance to use ordinary mediums to challenge conventions and stereotypes.
However, this is so much easier said than done. I go to work every day for eight or nine hours, completing tasks such as scanning of press clips, photocopying critical current essays, magazine texts and newspaper reviews, completion of various Excel tables, calculating attendance figures for exhibitions, writing formal letters to members of the press, preparing press releases, editing pieces of writing, collating reports, organizing the office, and running various errands. How am I challenging contemporary social conventions through this work? Wasn’t my goal, my scope, for this internship to be able to be a part of a sea change? Yes. And in a way, I am working towards and for that. I’m representing an institution that brings experimental and significant characters like Matthew Barney, Wolfgang Tillmans, and Noguchi to the American public. I’m helping distribute a product that helps defy tradition and works to expand one’s worldview and concepts regarding art. But this frustration of being caught up in the logistics is my biggest challenge at the Hirshhorn Museum. I have yet to come into contact with any staff member with whom I butt heads, any supervisor or boss hasn’t yelled me at, and I haven’t felt belittled, insignificant, or worthless. On the contrary, I have been brought into a close-knit family that truly values the contributions I make on a daily basis. But, every night I come home, open up the two or three magazines, like Harper’s Bazaar, Vogue, ARTnews, Art in America, Wallpaper, Elle, Interior Design, The Washingtonian, the New Yorker, or Artforum, which have been assigned to me by my supervisor to keep a keen pulse on the contemporary fashion and art world, and I can’t help feeling lost. I’m lost because I am trying to cram so much information on trends, threads of style and form, and definitions that I am losing sight of my mission. I’m learning that Matthew Barney and Joseph Beuys share many of the same defining artistic characteristics of overt theatricality and anti-minimalism. I expanding at an increasing rate, and yet I can’t help but feel at times that I’m losing my vision and sense of direction. But, I think that this is all part of the experience of getting to know something so utterly foreign as modern and contemporary art is to my world. I cannot expect to show up every day and understand perfectly why we are showing a comprehensive collection of Wolfgang Tillmans’ photography, or the reasons why the Visual Music exhibition from two years ago was such a complete success in the art world. I’m still completely in the beginner stage, but I cannot help but feel lost and frustrated at times because of my lack of familiarity with the space around me everyday.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Kennedy Center Reflections
Work at the Hirshhorn is progressing along quite well. I’ve been involved in some wonderful projects, some a bit less glamorous and then some that have found me continuing to learn my way around this place. This week, we open a new exhibition: “Refract, Reflect, Project: Light Works from the Collection.” Here’s a little bit more about the exhibition:
Throughout the history of art, light has been linked to fundamental questions of vision and perception. Refract, Reflect, Project: Light Works from the Collection explores objects in which light—as substance and subject—is central. Encompassing important practices and movements from the latter half of the twentieth century to the present, these works include examples of Minimalism, kinetic art, immersive environments, experimental film, and conceptual art. Among the artists featured are Giovanni Anselmo, Chryssa, Dan Flavin, Joseph Kosuth, James Turrell, and Thomas Wilfred. The exhibition also will highlight recent acquisitions by such artists as Olafur Eliasson, Spencer Finch, Christoph Girardet, and Iván Navarro. This exhibition is organized by associate curator Anne Ellegood.
In other news, on Friday, February 9, our class met to venture to the Kennedy Center for a day-long visit. We met with three representatives, from Education, Development, and Event Planning, as well as enjoyed a tour and a free performance at the Millenium Stage. For this class, I was asked to write a reflection on my experience at the Kennedy Center, and I have enclosed it below:
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Friday’s visit to the Kennedy Center was my first time at the hallowed institution honoring John F. Kennedy’s dedication to the arts in Washington, DC. As Ramien Pierre explicated, the Kennedy Center, is a “living memorial.” It doesn’t differ too much from other notable Washington, DC memorials, in that it is honed of exquisite marble, designed with sensitive yet epic architecture and vision, and executed in a style showing a strict dedication to proportion, balance and harmony, but the Kennedy Center has an additional sphere that is absent from many memorials: it lives fiercely in the present and future tenses. While it serves to represent the legacy of our 35th President of the United States of America, it also works to serve the local and global communities by providing innovative, thoughtful, and beautiful performing arts programs. The Kennedy Center is a forum for forward thinking art lovers, up and coming artists, established and well known dance/theatre/singing/musical companies, donors, and new patrons to experience the performing arts and to revel in their transformative powers.
The history of the Kennedy Center is quite illustrious and interesting in light of the current administration’s policies regarding the arts in America. The idea of the institution was signed into law by Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1958 under the title of The National Cultural Center. It was the first time in United States history that the federal government financially espoused the genesis and construction of a building wholly devoted to the performing arts. In much of the same way that Andrew Mellon envisioned and articulated the importance of an exceptional gallery of visual arts in order to bring the United States onto the “international stage,” the original proponents of the Kennedy Center understood the necessity for a space to house the performing arts in Washington, DC. Eisenhower was instrumental in legislatively realizing this project, but it wasn’t until after the assassination of John F. Kennedy that the development of the Center truly gained considerable momentum. Given a large sum of money (upwards of 86 million dollars) with which to cover construction, annual running costs, bonds, and a formal starting grant, the Kennedy Center began with large governmental support, but also ardently sought private donations from the likes of the Kennedy family, Marjorie Merriweather Post, and John D. Rockefeller 3rd. It is important to note the relationship of the Kennedy Center to the United States government—the Center is made up of a private/public partnership that involves the government and the private donors, trustees, and members of the Kennedy Center. While the government funds the annual running costs of the institution, the programs and events are all covered by private funding, gifts, corporate sponsorship, ticket sales, and merchandise revenue.
While it is certainly generous that the government funds the necessary running costs, why doesn’t it give a heftier monetary figure to subsidize the arts at the Kennedy Center? Over the past thirty-six years, the Kennedy Center has defined its character based on artistic excellence and integrity, so why doesn’t the government provide the Center with a greater amount of funding? The Kennedy Center also embodies many educational ideals by providing a wide variety of outreach programs around the nation to infuse schools and communities with artistic conceptualization, presence, and appreciation. Isn’t this a venture that the government would want to support? To try and personally be as “fiercely bipartisan” as the Kennedy Center claims to be, I find no excuse for the minimal amount of funding that is given to the arts in Washington, DC and the rest of the nation. Often people will refer to the arts as merely entertainment, but after witnessing the inner workings, careful decision making, and advocacy that fuels the Kennedy Center, I can not even reconcile this claim of art acting solely for amusement. The Center houses some of the most accomplished, talented and skilled performers around the world—this is a dedication to complete excellence embodied in so many different forms. As Garth Ross indicated, the Kennedy Center attempts to bring together the best performers to complete the purpose of the Center’s mission—to provide excellence and relevance while appealing to the public and pushing them to expand their concept of the performing arts. While many performing arts venues would claim this mission as their own, the Kennedy Center is in a critical position, because they, in essence, represent the true intersection of the global and American performing arts spheres. The Kennedy Center houses all the flags of other countries with whom there has been exchange, contact, and a relationship—many diplomats, ambassadors, and foreign visitors come to the Kennedy Center to be in a space that promotes American arts culture while still presenting international ideas, trends, and ideals. The Kennedy Center must act with prudence, for it stands as a symbol for many as our interaction with other countries through the lens of the arts. So why doesn’t the government fund it more? Should the Kennedy Center have to rely on Target to financially subsidize the Millenium Stage and Performing Arts for Everyone ventures, which act to bring all different types of arts to the public, free of charge? Absolutely not.
The United States government should fund these programs, as they provide an excellent chance to engage in the globalization not only of public paradigm, but of the artistic and performing world today. These programs help enrich the local and international community and reflect highly on the United States and its supposed dedication to the arts. Although I advocate an increase in funding by the government, this should not coincide with an increase in governmental influence and opinion, for it is incredibly important that the arts be allowed to thrive without the censorship and suppression imposed by outside legislative forces. I applaud the private/public partnership in place at the Kennedy Center, and it certainly has proved that the director and staff can create some of the most intriguing, compelling and significant programs in the world; however, if the government were to pledge a larger grant, they couldn’t use that to gain clout and decision making status in the organization. It should simply be enough that the government allows the Kennedy Center reign to create its program, as it currently does. The Center is not going to go off to proverbial deep-end and only showcase experimental, risqué and controversial pieces. While these have the capacity to be good additions to any catalogue, the Center has a fantastic understanding of the pulse of its constituents and public support, and I doubt they would abandon this backing. They know what the people want, but they also try to expand the public’s awareness and sense of what they want.
Although the tour, graciously given by Catherine Russell, was informative in regards to the origins of the gifts to the Center and very basic background information, I was not really aware of the express mission of the Center until Garth Ross’ dialogue with our group. While Ramien Pierre addressed the necessity to garner private funding and corporate sponsorship, I still was not sure of what the Kennedy Center was really trying to do. Mr. Ross’ presentation allowed me an inside look at the decisions that form what the Kennedy Center looks like to an outsider—the program of events. This is provides breath into the Center. It allows it to be a true “living memorial.” I applaud Mr. Ross and his colleagues, such as distinguished president Michael Kaiser, who daily work to supply a collection of concerts, plays, and events that incorporate as many different perspectives, backgrounds, and voices as they can. The Kennedy Center is a very special place, because despite the pitiful lack of government funding for anything other than running costs, it continues to strive for the utmost excellence in artistic ability and integrity, while reaching out to a public, both local and international, that may or may not need to be reminded of the vital significance of the arts to the human condition.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Week 1 Retrospective
Upon entering the fourth floor of the Hirshhorn Museum, home to all administrative offices, library, and conference rooms, I was met by five beautifully framed, spaced, and vivid images from Michael Barney’s most recent work, Drawing Restraint 9. Many know Barney as “Mr. Björk” for his relationship to the quirky Icelandic songstress (they have a daughter, Isadora, together), but within the art world, he is regarded as one of the most eminent and important artists of the past 20 years. Known for his experimental pieces that focus on intense imagery, thought-provoking subject matter, and expansive theatricality, Barney has created a following of teenage hipsters, aspiring college art students, twentysomething bohemians and modern art snobs. I made a remark to my supervisor in regards to the arresting photo stills on the wall, and she replied to tell me that I would have the special chance to attend an exclusive lecture Barney was giving on Wednesday. Disbelief, incredible anticipation and excitement met me in a rush as soon as I heard this—I, someone who knew him only peripherally from his film output (although, these are among his most critically acclaimed pieces) would have the astonishing chance to attend the Hirshhorn’s renowned Meet the Artist Matthew Barney lecture. This was only the beginning of a first day that I never expected and one that didn’t fail to overwhelm and excite me throughout the entire time.
We spent the first couple hours discussing logistics, impending projects, hours, and basically slowly helping me acclimate to the office. I received a whirlwind tour of everything behind the scenes at the Hirshhorn, from the copy room to the storage area for the majority of the Museum’s collection not on view. I met most of the small fifty person staff, and promptly forgot their names within minutes of meeting them. My supervisor, Gabriel, and I then headed off to lunch and spent the time discussing family history and views on the role of Marketing in the commercial world. I felt quite comfortable around Gabriel from the beginning—her enthusiasm and fervor was palpable, and I soon found myself feeding off of her energy.
Upon returning to the office, Gabriel whisked off to a meeting and I was left with my first job as an intern at the Hirshhorn Museum—I was sent off to familiarize myself with the Museum’s collection. Descending to the third floor, I exited the elevator and walked into a large, open room that housed Alexander Calder sculpture, structuralist paintings from the 1930’s, and cardstock relief art. To say I was overwhelmed with this first task is quite an understatement; rather, I had no idea where to begin. My tools at analyzing, understanding, and evaluating modern and contemporary art were incredibly dull and not very useful—instead, I was forced to rely on simply taking in the color schemes, textures, lines, artistic mechanisms, and all around general characteristics of each piece. Because I couldn’t yet really associate clout to too many names that I passed, I relied on how each piece made me feel. I had to rely on my visceral reaction to these works to begin building a relationship with the Museum’s collection. I did not yet know that Clyfford Still’s usage of texture, paint levels, and color was meant to respond to Nietzsche philosophy and thereby evoke a sense of primal symbolism. Even so, I was mesmerized by the sheer power and beauty of the collection.
One of the biggest tasks for this coming semester is going to be acquiring, building and understanding the contemporary art and aesthetic vernacular. Coming into this experience with little background in modern and contemporary works, everyday represents a new opportunity to learn a little bit more about art, current artists, exhibitions, art history, fashion, marketing, public sentiment, and human emotion. Part of my homework for my internship at the Hirshhorn has been reading art and fashion magazines, such as ARTnews, Art in America, Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Interior Design, and the New Yorker. I’ve read pieces on the influx of floral prints in spring lines, upscale couture, gallery openings, reviews of recent exhibitions, the chic nature of certain types of handbags, the Iraqi War, medical ethics, Henry Moore sculpture, art policy, and Ian McEwan’s latest work of fiction. I’ve been asked to read Peter Plagen’s recent editorial on the lack of authentic art criticism in current mass media. I’ve poured over pages separated by Dior, Calvin Klein, Marc Jacobs and Valentino ads, rife with gorgeous photography, breathtaking models, and awe-inspiring fashion collections. I’m slowly developing my vocabulary, and I couldn’t be having more fun doing it.
I’ve certainly had my share of menial, low-level intern-quality jobs to do over the past week. I’ve become quite close to the copy machine, and I’m learning the intricacies of the phone system. I’m responsible for updating and maintaining the Hirshhorn’s MySpace page (http://www.myspace.com/hirshhornmuseum), and I enter in all the contact information from the cards signing people up for the Hirshhorn’s online newsletter. But these tasks do not seem as daunting and tedious because they are interspersed with events like the Matthew Barney lecture, gallery visits, art history research, reading books on upcoming exhibitions, talking to co-workers, or spending time listening to archived podcasts from previous lectures. I’ve thrown myself head first into the contemporary art world, and it is a thrilling place to be. Gabriel and I have a really massive and important presentation to give to the Board of Trustees on Tuesday, so tomorrow will be a 12 hour day, full of scanning images, cropping, rearranging, and finalizing a full-color, full text and bound 30-40 page formal book presentation of the past half-year’s press. I can’t believe that I’m already working on things of such import, but I am glad I can simply be of service. There is an energy at the Hirshhorn which is utterly infectious—I’ve never felt as compelled by art and its implications before, and I am invigorated by a desire to wake up in the morning and head off to work. I think it’s going to be a really wonderful semester.
We spent the first couple hours discussing logistics, impending projects, hours, and basically slowly helping me acclimate to the office. I received a whirlwind tour of everything behind the scenes at the Hirshhorn, from the copy room to the storage area for the majority of the Museum’s collection not on view. I met most of the small fifty person staff, and promptly forgot their names within minutes of meeting them. My supervisor, Gabriel, and I then headed off to lunch and spent the time discussing family history and views on the role of Marketing in the commercial world. I felt quite comfortable around Gabriel from the beginning—her enthusiasm and fervor was palpable, and I soon found myself feeding off of her energy.
Upon returning to the office, Gabriel whisked off to a meeting and I was left with my first job as an intern at the Hirshhorn Museum—I was sent off to familiarize myself with the Museum’s collection. Descending to the third floor, I exited the elevator and walked into a large, open room that housed Alexander Calder sculpture, structuralist paintings from the 1930’s, and cardstock relief art. To say I was overwhelmed with this first task is quite an understatement; rather, I had no idea where to begin. My tools at analyzing, understanding, and evaluating modern and contemporary art were incredibly dull and not very useful—instead, I was forced to rely on simply taking in the color schemes, textures, lines, artistic mechanisms, and all around general characteristics of each piece. Because I couldn’t yet really associate clout to too many names that I passed, I relied on how each piece made me feel. I had to rely on my visceral reaction to these works to begin building a relationship with the Museum’s collection. I did not yet know that Clyfford Still’s usage of texture, paint levels, and color was meant to respond to Nietzsche philosophy and thereby evoke a sense of primal symbolism. Even so, I was mesmerized by the sheer power and beauty of the collection.
One of the biggest tasks for this coming semester is going to be acquiring, building and understanding the contemporary art and aesthetic vernacular. Coming into this experience with little background in modern and contemporary works, everyday represents a new opportunity to learn a little bit more about art, current artists, exhibitions, art history, fashion, marketing, public sentiment, and human emotion. Part of my homework for my internship at the Hirshhorn has been reading art and fashion magazines, such as ARTnews, Art in America, Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Interior Design, and the New Yorker. I’ve read pieces on the influx of floral prints in spring lines, upscale couture, gallery openings, reviews of recent exhibitions, the chic nature of certain types of handbags, the Iraqi War, medical ethics, Henry Moore sculpture, art policy, and Ian McEwan’s latest work of fiction. I’ve been asked to read Peter Plagen’s recent editorial on the lack of authentic art criticism in current mass media. I’ve poured over pages separated by Dior, Calvin Klein, Marc Jacobs and Valentino ads, rife with gorgeous photography, breathtaking models, and awe-inspiring fashion collections. I’m slowly developing my vocabulary, and I couldn’t be having more fun doing it.
I’ve certainly had my share of menial, low-level intern-quality jobs to do over the past week. I’ve become quite close to the copy machine, and I’m learning the intricacies of the phone system. I’m responsible for updating and maintaining the Hirshhorn’s MySpace page (http://www.myspace.com/hirshhornmuseum), and I enter in all the contact information from the cards signing people up for the Hirshhorn’s online newsletter. But these tasks do not seem as daunting and tedious because they are interspersed with events like the Matthew Barney lecture, gallery visits, art history research, reading books on upcoming exhibitions, talking to co-workers, or spending time listening to archived podcasts from previous lectures. I’ve thrown myself head first into the contemporary art world, and it is a thrilling place to be. Gabriel and I have a really massive and important presentation to give to the Board of Trustees on Tuesday, so tomorrow will be a 12 hour day, full of scanning images, cropping, rearranging, and finalizing a full-color, full text and bound 30-40 page formal book presentation of the past half-year’s press. I can’t believe that I’m already working on things of such import, but I am glad I can simply be of service. There is an energy at the Hirshhorn which is utterly infectious—I’ve never felt as compelled by art and its implications before, and I am invigorated by a desire to wake up in the morning and head off to work. I think it’s going to be a really wonderful semester.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Recap: Barney event, Michael Powell, and NGA
The Matthew Barney event was CRAZY. Sure, we all expected it to be a huge event, as many Meet The Artist talks are, but I really couldn't fathom the sheer immensity of public interest for the program. While I was running around doing things at 2.30 PM, people had already started to show up for the event, lining up in the lobby of the museum. By 5.00 we had about the same number of people in line as the amount of tickets that were available for the general public. However, ticket distribution wasn't planning to open until 5.45, so basically everyone who showed up past 5.00 was destined to walk away unhappy.
My job was to control the crowd outside of the museum from 5.00 until 6.30. I distributed information in regards to our simultaneous live Webcast of the event as a consolation to everyone who would not be granted entrance into the event. I also had to act as a medium between the museum administration and the general public, delineating the rules of the event and turning people away. To say I received opposition would be an understatement-- there were some incredibly pointed and harsh words that were said in that hour and a half. Unfortunately, and for obvious reasons, I had to be responsible for the Museum's role and regulations. While I completely sympathized for the girls who drove from Philadelphia and skipped class to see the event but got there too late, or the couple who have followed Barney's work throughout its evolution from the Cremaster Cycle to Drawing Restraint 9, or the group of young artists hoping for the chance to simply be in the same space as one of their idols, I had to mentally remove myself from the situation and present the facts. The problem with it is that you have to look at the person who flew in from CA as the same as the person who lives at Independence & 6th St SW, and I had a really hard time doing as such. But, one positive thing about the event was that my supervisor and other members of the Museum staff all were incredibly appreciative of my initiative and crowd control skills. I also really bonded with a few of the other employees over the event, so it was a good experience overall.
The event was based around a discussion had between Nancy Spector, curator of Contemporary Art at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, and Matthew Barney whose focus was specifically on the evolution of his work and the influence of experimental artist Joseph Beuys. Both artists have a strong sense of theatricality in their work. Beuys is known for a much more live public performance technique, while Barney is recognized for his highly intense and thought-provoking film and sculpture pieces. However, Barney is also known for his 2004 creation of a float for Carnivale in Salvador, Brazil with fellow artist Arto Lindsay. The title of the project was De Lama Lamina (Of Mud a Blade), which mirrored Beuys' dedication to public artistic performance. Also, Spector addressed a recent exhibition that paired works from Beuys and Barney next to each other, thereby imposing a connection to the observer. It really was a fairly fascinating talk; however, Barney's way of speech is very much like his film work-- long, drawn out, yet thoughtful. He is a soft-spoken artist, despite his commanding physicality and presence. Overall, it was an incredibly worthwhile experience, and I feel very blessed to have had the chance to be a part of it.
On a less intellectual note, I am now responsible for keeping up the Hirshhorn's MySpace page, so if any of you are interested / have MySpace, feel free to poke around the site and give any suggestions you may have. I am refreshing my mind in HTML coding, but it's slowly coming back to me. Its very methodical and takes a considerable amount of time, but I think the page looks fairly presentable now, so I am pleased.
The reception on Tuesday evening was one of those events in which one must put on a smile and face the crowd of people with whom you have no connection, except the fact that you're W&M alums. I mostly stuck with fellow W&M students, but we did have the chance to talk to some very interesting people. The most intriguing of these people was Michael Powell, the newly appointed Rector of the Board of Visitors for the College of William and Mary and son of Colin Powell. I also feel it is important to note that Powell is now the first African-American to serve in the role of Rector in the 313 year history of the position. Very exciting! President Gene Nichol spoke to my Freshman Seminar last year about his dedication to diversifying not only the student constituency but the Board of Visitors and faculty as well. It is nice to see this coming to fruition.
To say Michael Powell was a dynamic speaker and had a grasp on what he was saying would be a horribly understatement. He was incredibly approachable, kind, funny and interested in engaging us as students. We started off joking about the lack of nightlife in Williamsburg, but the discussion between he and five students and I soon went to the rights of digital distribution, his time at the FCC and his own feelings on entities such as YouTube, Google, mass media (the New York Times, LA Times, etc) and broadcast television. To paraphrase his position, he believes that we really are no different than our predecessors as a generation; rather, we communicate in different ways and have a new set of priorities and opportunities. It's no different talking on MySpace than talking on the phone for hours back in the 1970s, or in bars and saloons in the 1940s. The difference with media now, according to Powell, is that everything is being customized-- so you log onto Yahoo! and you want to have it be MyYahoo! or My_____. Basically, the average consumer in America now wants things tailored to specifically his or her interests. He made the point that many argue that we have diversified the media now and created a chance for opposing journalism and a forum for disagreements that effectually better educates us and allows us to create an informed opinion of our own. But his point was what we have actually done is given the ability to create one's own news-- so, if you're an uber-liberal animal activist, you can make your own newspaper tailored around those interests, or if you're a right-wing Christian theocrat, you can get by with reading only your part of the news. It's the chance to pick and choose out of a huge collection of information, and it's basically polarizing us from communal discussion and debate. Instead of everyone gathering around Walter Cronkite at a specific time, or coming together for 1 news show, we're bombarded by continual news casts on MSNBC, CNBC, CNN, FOXNews, etc.
He made some really interesting points, and he eloquently discussed the problem with decreasing newspaper subscriptions and readership, the influx of digital file swapping, and the problems with the record companies and music industry in America right now. We are entering a new age that is decidedly digital, and we have to figure out how to regulate it in a way that is neither reactionary nor callous.
Today, we are visiting the National Gallery of Art for class, so that should be interesting and informative. I'm really looking forward to it. I don't remember the last time I visited, so I excited to see the collection and hear more about their policy and history. More on that later!
My job was to control the crowd outside of the museum from 5.00 until 6.30. I distributed information in regards to our simultaneous live Webcast of the event as a consolation to everyone who would not be granted entrance into the event. I also had to act as a medium between the museum administration and the general public, delineating the rules of the event and turning people away. To say I received opposition would be an understatement-- there were some incredibly pointed and harsh words that were said in that hour and a half. Unfortunately, and for obvious reasons, I had to be responsible for the Museum's role and regulations. While I completely sympathized for the girls who drove from Philadelphia and skipped class to see the event but got there too late, or the couple who have followed Barney's work throughout its evolution from the Cremaster Cycle to Drawing Restraint 9, or the group of young artists hoping for the chance to simply be in the same space as one of their idols, I had to mentally remove myself from the situation and present the facts. The problem with it is that you have to look at the person who flew in from CA as the same as the person who lives at Independence & 6th St SW, and I had a really hard time doing as such. But, one positive thing about the event was that my supervisor and other members of the Museum staff all were incredibly appreciative of my initiative and crowd control skills. I also really bonded with a few of the other employees over the event, so it was a good experience overall.
The event was based around a discussion had between Nancy Spector, curator of Contemporary Art at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, and Matthew Barney whose focus was specifically on the evolution of his work and the influence of experimental artist Joseph Beuys. Both artists have a strong sense of theatricality in their work. Beuys is known for a much more live public performance technique, while Barney is recognized for his highly intense and thought-provoking film and sculpture pieces. However, Barney is also known for his 2004 creation of a float for Carnivale in Salvador, Brazil with fellow artist Arto Lindsay. The title of the project was De Lama Lamina (Of Mud a Blade), which mirrored Beuys' dedication to public artistic performance. Also, Spector addressed a recent exhibition that paired works from Beuys and Barney next to each other, thereby imposing a connection to the observer. It really was a fairly fascinating talk; however, Barney's way of speech is very much like his film work-- long, drawn out, yet thoughtful. He is a soft-spoken artist, despite his commanding physicality and presence. Overall, it was an incredibly worthwhile experience, and I feel very blessed to have had the chance to be a part of it.
On a less intellectual note, I am now responsible for keeping up the Hirshhorn's MySpace page, so if any of you are interested / have MySpace, feel free to poke around the site and give any suggestions you may have. I am refreshing my mind in HTML coding, but it's slowly coming back to me. Its very methodical and takes a considerable amount of time, but I think the page looks fairly presentable now, so I am pleased.
The reception on Tuesday evening was one of those events in which one must put on a smile and face the crowd of people with whom you have no connection, except the fact that you're W&M alums. I mostly stuck with fellow W&M students, but we did have the chance to talk to some very interesting people. The most intriguing of these people was Michael Powell, the newly appointed Rector of the Board of Visitors for the College of William and Mary and son of Colin Powell. I also feel it is important to note that Powell is now the first African-American to serve in the role of Rector in the 313 year history of the position. Very exciting! President Gene Nichol spoke to my Freshman Seminar last year about his dedication to diversifying not only the student constituency but the Board of Visitors and faculty as well. It is nice to see this coming to fruition.
To say Michael Powell was a dynamic speaker and had a grasp on what he was saying would be a horribly understatement. He was incredibly approachable, kind, funny and interested in engaging us as students. We started off joking about the lack of nightlife in Williamsburg, but the discussion between he and five students and I soon went to the rights of digital distribution, his time at the FCC and his own feelings on entities such as YouTube, Google, mass media (the New York Times, LA Times, etc) and broadcast television. To paraphrase his position, he believes that we really are no different than our predecessors as a generation; rather, we communicate in different ways and have a new set of priorities and opportunities. It's no different talking on MySpace than talking on the phone for hours back in the 1970s, or in bars and saloons in the 1940s. The difference with media now, according to Powell, is that everything is being customized-- so you log onto Yahoo! and you want to have it be MyYahoo! or My_____. Basically, the average consumer in America now wants things tailored to specifically his or her interests. He made the point that many argue that we have diversified the media now and created a chance for opposing journalism and a forum for disagreements that effectually better educates us and allows us to create an informed opinion of our own. But his point was what we have actually done is given the ability to create one's own news-- so, if you're an uber-liberal animal activist, you can make your own newspaper tailored around those interests, or if you're a right-wing Christian theocrat, you can get by with reading only your part of the news. It's the chance to pick and choose out of a huge collection of information, and it's basically polarizing us from communal discussion and debate. Instead of everyone gathering around Walter Cronkite at a specific time, or coming together for 1 news show, we're bombarded by continual news casts on MSNBC, CNBC, CNN, FOXNews, etc.
He made some really interesting points, and he eloquently discussed the problem with decreasing newspaper subscriptions and readership, the influx of digital file swapping, and the problems with the record companies and music industry in America right now. We are entering a new age that is decidedly digital, and we have to figure out how to regulate it in a way that is neither reactionary nor callous.
Today, we are visiting the National Gallery of Art for class, so that should be interesting and informative. I'm really looking forward to it. I don't remember the last time I visited, so I excited to see the collection and hear more about their policy and history. More on that later!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Day 2
It's always a bit harder to go back on your second day of work and come away feeling the same intensity and energy that you feel after that first entrance into a new job. However, today was a different experience for me, as my main supervisor was out of the office for the day. I was sent to do most of my work on my own, and this freedom with responsibility was quite liberating. I spent quite some time in the main Marketing office with co-workers Jennifer and Vanessa, getting data and such ready for release to important collecting agencies, putting together press files, and submitting email information for our online database.
I had to wake up a bit early to head into work today, since we had an External Affairs meeting at 9:30 AM with the complete Marketing/Communications/Development staff. It was the first official Smithsonian Institution meeting that I had the chance to attend. What a crazy event! There is so much to do at this point in time, as January is one of the museum's most busy months. Things begin to get much crazier and the amount of work greatly increases following the holidays, so I really have entered at a time when an extra hand is a great resource. I am really pleased with the work I have been doing thus far, as everyone with whom I've interacted seems genuinely pleased and appreciative of my work and time there.
I've been put on the staff list for running the Matthew Barney event I described yesterday. There aren't that many staff coming, and quite frankly, I'm afraid that it is going to be a complete fiasco tomorrow. Here's the situation-- we have the capacity to hold 272 people, in seats, in our auditorium. We have reserved about 22 seats for press, 25 or so for donors, 50 for members, and then a bit less than 50 for staff, docents, and the curators. Basically, we are going to have about 100 or maybe even fewer tickets left for the general public (the math works out somehow... I know I'm missing some reserved ticket holders), which is a huge detriment to our program. One of the important facets of our mission is to bring contemporary and thought-provoking art into the public realm, so by limiting the spaces for public attendance, we're in effect partially going against our philosophy. However, it's a bit more complicated, in that Matthew Barney is an incredibly important and influential figure, but the constraints of the program do not allow us to outsource it to another location. We're expecting it to be a stressful occasion, but I'm really not too worried about it. It'll give me a sense of these sorts of programs and allow me a chance to get my feet more grounded underneath myself.
I'm off in a few minutes to attend a W&M reception, held by President Gene Nichol in honor of certain board members and their distinguished service. Supposedly, Nichol will mention us and our program in some capacity, so it should be well worth it. Also, it's supposedly rife with "heavy hors d'oeuvres" (I heard someone mention crabcakes...) and I have a feeling it will be a great networking opportunity to meet alumni. So, all in all a great start to this packed week!
I had to wake up a bit early to head into work today, since we had an External Affairs meeting at 9:30 AM with the complete Marketing/Communications/Development staff. It was the first official Smithsonian Institution meeting that I had the chance to attend. What a crazy event! There is so much to do at this point in time, as January is one of the museum's most busy months. Things begin to get much crazier and the amount of work greatly increases following the holidays, so I really have entered at a time when an extra hand is a great resource. I am really pleased with the work I have been doing thus far, as everyone with whom I've interacted seems genuinely pleased and appreciative of my work and time there.
I've been put on the staff list for running the Matthew Barney event I described yesterday. There aren't that many staff coming, and quite frankly, I'm afraid that it is going to be a complete fiasco tomorrow. Here's the situation-- we have the capacity to hold 272 people, in seats, in our auditorium. We have reserved about 22 seats for press, 25 or so for donors, 50 for members, and then a bit less than 50 for staff, docents, and the curators. Basically, we are going to have about 100 or maybe even fewer tickets left for the general public (the math works out somehow... I know I'm missing some reserved ticket holders), which is a huge detriment to our program. One of the important facets of our mission is to bring contemporary and thought-provoking art into the public realm, so by limiting the spaces for public attendance, we're in effect partially going against our philosophy. However, it's a bit more complicated, in that Matthew Barney is an incredibly important and influential figure, but the constraints of the program do not allow us to outsource it to another location. We're expecting it to be a stressful occasion, but I'm really not too worried about it. It'll give me a sense of these sorts of programs and allow me a chance to get my feet more grounded underneath myself.
I'm off in a few minutes to attend a W&M reception, held by President Gene Nichol in honor of certain board members and their distinguished service. Supposedly, Nichol will mention us and our program in some capacity, so it should be well worth it. Also, it's supposedly rife with "heavy hors d'oeuvres" (I heard someone mention crabcakes...) and I have a feeling it will be a great networking opportunity to meet alumni. So, all in all a great start to this packed week!
Monday, January 29, 2007
First Day
I have decided to start this blog to more fully document my time in Washington, DC over this coming semester. I am participating in the William & Mary in Washington Program for the Spring Semester. It is a program that takes 14-18 W&M students, mostly Juniors and Seniors, and places them in DC to live, work, and learn over the course of a 16 week period. One takes 2 classes and holds an internship for 32-35 hours a week. These internships are not secure at the beginning of the program, so one must find them, apply for them, and succeed in securing one without the help of school.
This spring, I am working as an intern for the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden in the Marketing and Communications Department. I am working under the supervision of Gabriel Einsohn, the Marketing/Communications Specialist at the Museum. As she explained to me during my brief orientation this morning, the Hirshhorn's staff of 50 is rather small in comparison to many museums around DC. For example, the National Gallery has a staff of 30 people who plan, arrange, coordinate, and execute all the things that need to be done with the press. She is in charge of basically everything with which these 30 people are involved, so I feel I will have the unique opportunity to really provide considerable help and hold significant responsibility.
Within three hours of being at the Museum, I was told that I will have the wonderful chance to attend a lecture and conversation that the Hirshhorn is holding with innovative and experimental contemporary artist Matthew Barney. It is this Wednesday night, and there are only 272 seats available, for which half are already accounted (Hirshhorn staff, board members, distinctive donors, and press). Matthew Barney is most well known for his Cremaster Cycle film series, an epic collection that looks at the intimate and intriguing processes of creation. Most recently, he put out the Drawing Restraint 9 film and accompanying art exhibition. Many will know this film as the collaboration with his long-time partner Björk (they have a child together, Ísadóra), for which she contributed the fairly well received soundtrack (her second soundtrack offering in her musical career). I can't wait to be a part of this discussion-- he is a fairly influential and important figure in the past 20 years in the art and film world. You can find more about the talk here.
A big part of this job will be getting increasingly familiar with the vernacular surrounding modern, post modern and contemporary art. A task that I've taken up is I will try and bring home 2-3 art journals, magazines, or publications so that I can begin to read and recognize many of the buzzwords, big exhibitions opening, and trends in the art world. This is going to be quite a challenge for me, as I have never taken any art or art history classes in this time period or type of art, but I feel through continual immersion and thorough reading and investigation that I may begin to understand the conventions and energy behind contemporary art. I picked up the December issues of Art in America and ARTnews in hopes to work with fairly recent news and ideas.
So begins this exciting trip into a world with which I am quite unfamiliar. It should provide quite an exhilarating time!
This spring, I am working as an intern for the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden in the Marketing and Communications Department. I am working under the supervision of Gabriel Einsohn, the Marketing/Communications Specialist at the Museum. As she explained to me during my brief orientation this morning, the Hirshhorn's staff of 50 is rather small in comparison to many museums around DC. For example, the National Gallery has a staff of 30 people who plan, arrange, coordinate, and execute all the things that need to be done with the press. She is in charge of basically everything with which these 30 people are involved, so I feel I will have the unique opportunity to really provide considerable help and hold significant responsibility.
Within three hours of being at the Museum, I was told that I will have the wonderful chance to attend a lecture and conversation that the Hirshhorn is holding with innovative and experimental contemporary artist Matthew Barney. It is this Wednesday night, and there are only 272 seats available, for which half are already accounted (Hirshhorn staff, board members, distinctive donors, and press). Matthew Barney is most well known for his Cremaster Cycle film series, an epic collection that looks at the intimate and intriguing processes of creation. Most recently, he put out the Drawing Restraint 9 film and accompanying art exhibition. Many will know this film as the collaboration with his long-time partner Björk (they have a child together, Ísadóra), for which she contributed the fairly well received soundtrack (her second soundtrack offering in her musical career). I can't wait to be a part of this discussion-- he is a fairly influential and important figure in the past 20 years in the art and film world. You can find more about the talk here.
A big part of this job will be getting increasingly familiar with the vernacular surrounding modern, post modern and contemporary art. A task that I've taken up is I will try and bring home 2-3 art journals, magazines, or publications so that I can begin to read and recognize many of the buzzwords, big exhibitions opening, and trends in the art world. This is going to be quite a challenge for me, as I have never taken any art or art history classes in this time period or type of art, but I feel through continual immersion and thorough reading and investigation that I may begin to understand the conventions and energy behind contemporary art. I picked up the December issues of Art in America and ARTnews in hopes to work with fairly recent news and ideas.
So begins this exciting trip into a world with which I am quite unfamiliar. It should provide quite an exhilarating time!
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