For the past four or so months I’ve been caught up in teaching, working and surviving a brutal winter here in the U.P. Preparing lectures is more work than I’d anticipated, but I did set up a blog for the class I teach. We take a four-day trip to Chicago, stopping in Kohler and Milwuakee, WI too. It’s art viewing madness but a lot of fun for the students; for many of them this is their first time in Chicago. The blog my students kept about the trip is here:
Archive for ETC.
Bailing Out Art Museums
The New York Times ran an article about Eli Broad offering a $30-million dollar bailout to the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. Apparently their endowment has lost 75% of it’s value, combined with the museum consistently dipping into the principle to keep the doors open, leaving less than $10-million in the bank. This made me think of two things:
1. Thanks to the magic number of $700 billion I’ve heard about 700 billion times in the past month or so, my perception of money is getting a bit skewed. When seeing the NYT story my first thought was, “wow $30-million is not that much, really”. Then I thought about it for a few seconds more and realized, actually, yes that is a lot of money. Reality check anyone?
2. Part of me wants to go down the road of complaining about banks getting $700-billion because they screwed up, while many museums are also being affected by the economic downward spiral but they don’t get any help. Boo hoo. I’m going to put on the breaks though…MOCA LA mismanaged it’s endowment and was spending too much money. Perhaps the museum hasn’t been running like a non-profit cultural institution, but instead like a major corporation. Perhaps they were spending too much money and expanding too quickly, falling into the traps of contemporary art that insists that bigger is better and more is better. Perhaps it’s time for everyone to chill out a little and take the advice of my seventh grade art teacher: it’s about quality, not quantity.
Knowing the many, many small (and yes, struggling) non-profits just in the Upper Peninsula alone, it’s hard for me to feel sorry for the large museums that are suffering now. Perhaps they need to scale back (sorry Mr. Koons, we can’t commission you to make another huge doggie balloon for the front courtyard) and focus. This could make everyone a bit more creative about what they do and how they are able to do it. I’m not wishing hardships on any museum, but I am saying that this could be a much needed wake up call, similar to the wake up call going on in the for-profit world.
Loss and Continuing On…
I just returned from a trip that took me to Chicago, Grand Rapids and Flint in about seven days. Part of that trip was related to a class I am teaching at NMU and part of it was to say good-bye to a friend who lost his life way to soon. Ben Schaafsma was someone I met while in grad school at SAIC. He turned out to be one of a few people who popped up in my life who helped and inspired me in more ways than I can fully explain. In his 26 years he did more for the communities he lived in and for connecting people to art than most of us could ever dream.
As I talked with people at the various gatherings for Ben in Chicago and Grand Rapids, I came to realize just how much time he actually did spend on g-chat, talking art, politics, life, whatever with many many people. After I moved to Marquette, I spent more time on g-chat and had many conversations with Ben myself…thankfully gmail automatically archives these conversations. I was scrolling back through some of those chats and realized how naturally Ben wanted to connect people. I also realized this while on my trip, as I met some of the artists who will be coming to Marquette next semester as visiting artists. I’d only met them over e-mail, at the suggestion of Ben, and was now only meeting them in person for the first time because Ben was gone. It was a strange and overwhelmingly sad feeling, but it inspired me none the less to carry on.
There is a more proper and deserving memorial written about Ben in Newcity as well as on G-RAD.
(From Newcity)
Liverpool: Deriving Myself Crazy
A person from Newcastle that I’ve befriended and have been e-mailing with over the course of my trip pointed out the fact that Manchester is based more on the grid system and cities like Liverpool and London are much older thus the streets follow ancient waterways and other landmarks, which may be the reason I really enjoyed Liverpool. I wish I had more than one day to spend there (especially a not-Saturday) to spend more time wandering in general directions, similar to what the Situationists coined “the dérive” or to drift through a city. Maybe it’s not drifting in a specific sense when you have a destination in mind, but I’m not a purist.
Apparently I’m not much of a day trip planner either. I went to Liverpool on a Saturday, and that Saturday happened to be during the tall ships festival, which I didn’t know about until I saw the line up of huge skeletal wooden frames in the distance:
I’m familiar with tall ship festivals as I’ve made trips to a few places around the Great Lakes to see them: Detroit and Saginaw to name a few. Marquette, my current home, is actually bringing a tall ship into Lower Harbor in August as part of “Pirate Fest”. I’m organizing a workshop at the museum for kids to make pirate flags for it.
I made my way through some pedestrian areas, taking alleys and empty streets with close-set buildings lining them, but always heading towards the water. It was quite enjoyable and I saw some public art, graffiti, and a few swanky tucked away bars waiting for night to fall to open. Liverpool definitely felt more textured, less polished:
While maybe it is true that Liverpool is in as much of a state of change and new building as Manchester there seems to be character being retained in Liverpool. True, I saw just as many cranes in the sky in Liverpool, and they have their own central mall (still in development) that was just as terrible as Manchester’s, plus it was outside so it felt like Disneyland too. But Manchester’s buildings seemed to be waiting for the glossing over…sitting sad and just waiting. Liverpool’s building still seemed to be breathing. Perhaps I’m getting to esoteric with bricks, so I’ll move on.
My plan was to wander from Lime Street Station towards the harbor, find my way to the Tate for a visit, then wander back towards the Station going a way that seemed closer to the Walker Gallery. The closer I got to the harbor though, and Albert Dock (where the Tate is located) I saw more masses of people. And I mean a lot of people.
Albert dock is basically one giant square with water in the middle. And water surrounding it on the outside except for the side connect to the the land. Apparently because there were so many people they were herding them in one direction, which I found out when I unknowingly started to walk towards the “exit” side. A nice policeman stepped in front of me and asked me what I was doing and where exactly I was going. I was a bit shocked and intimidated so I muttered something about being new to town and was looking for the art museum, yes the Tate. He pointed back in the direction I was coming from “follow the crowds and mind your purse”.
So in with the crowds I started to walk, a good 15 minute walk onto the pier to get to the Tate. They had set up a que on the right for people wanting to see the boats. There were about 300 people in line. Stay to the left to go to the museum. I stayed to the left. As I was walking I started to notice the signs for the Gustav Klmit show at the Tate and then it all started to come together: I had picked probably one of the worst possible days to come here. And the next few hours were probably going to involve me elbowing my way through crowds of people either here for the boats or for Klmit, or both.
I started a mental race between the boats and Klmit. Que for the boats, about 300 people. Que for Klmit, about an hour’s wait for entry. Not bad Klmit!
He had some tough competition, the flimsy paper signs pointing to the exhibition flapped in the incredible wind that was pounding the harbor. The boats had lots of people dressed up keeping the waiting crowds entertained – clowns, people dressed up in a big fake cloth tub. Sometimes the entertainment stood in front of the Klmit signs. I felt sorta bad for him, but not bad enough to wait an hour and pay 10 pounds to see the show. Instead I saw a nice print show from the Tate’s collection, watched a bit of a Francis Bacon film (“Francis, isn’t art about creating order out of chaos?”) then decided to head back. I skipped the Beatles Museum (that que had about 50 people in it…I think they’d get the bronze medal in the popularity contest) and made my way back towards the Walker Art Gallery.
I felt a little bad for skipping all things Beatles while in Liverpool. That is probably the only time I’ll ever go and I sort of wanted to indulge even though I’m not really a fan. I was tempted twice by signs leading to things like Magical Mystery Tours, but instead I just took this photo from outside the “official Beatles store” (one of four in Liverpool I think):
I spent a few hours wandering around the beautiful cultural quarter where the Walker Art Gallery is located. The Walker was quite nice, I saw a very nice Kitaj painting, as well as nice classical paintings by Reubens and Rembrandt’s Self Portrait as a Young man. Good good stuff.
Then I sat outside in the park before heading back to the train and basked in the sun that finally came out for the first extended period of time in three days.
I’m now in London and already pleasantly overwhelmed (and pleasantly full of Indian food) at what I want to see here: two more Tates, the British Museum, National Gallery, Serpentine Gallery, Whitecube…and that’s just the art.
UK: July 16 – 31
I will be presenting at the 3rd International Conference on the Arts in Society on the 30th of July in Birmingham, UK. A tour of the UK will precede the conference, I may even visit three of the four Tate Museums if I’m ambitious enough.
Conversation Log
An anonymous e-mail exchange, used with permission:
DA: Seems like you used to blog about art a whole lot more than you do now…settling into a UP frame of mind, eh? Life on the prairie has been known to drain enthusiasm; consult Wisconsin Death Trip for details…
ME: Well I guess I could post all of the writing I’ve been doing for these two grants I’m working on? One for Beyond Green and the other about the conservation needs of the museum’s collection? Or maybe post my edits to my thesis for this journal I’ve been struggling with? booooorrrrinnnggg!
Really though I think it’s the NYT’s fault…that’s been my link to the outside world since our road trip six weeks ago. Cy Twombly is about the best they could come up with lately and his work makes me feel empty. I started to blog about the Oasis show but decided it wasn’t worth me spinning my wheels anymore and someone from the Oasis might actually read it someday.
But, the good news is that I get to go to Chicago next week on the Social Aspects trip, and will be making the museum rounds. And I’ll have a good 20 hours on a bus to write while blocking out the plans of about 60 twenty year olds.
DA: It’s more of an “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” situation! That’ll happen in the UP as well…
ME: Mmmm more like if you can’t say something interesting, don’t say anything at all! And yes, perhaps that is a downfall of the UP as well…what’s a U.P. art museum director to do?
DA: I usually just end up saying something anyway–never mind if it’s interesting or nice!
ME: Can I blog this e-mail exchange we’ve had this morning?!?!? You would be kept anonymous, of course. As would I.
DA: I don’t know if you’re serious or not, but just in case you are: go ahead.
Brooding for Broad
The New York Times has been on a rampage with the new Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) over the past week or so. Last Sunday they ran a story about Eli Broad, the patron saint and namesake of LACMA’s addition (appropriately called the Broad Contemporary Art Museum) deciding not to donate his entire collection to LACMA. When I say the entire contemporary art collection of Eli and Edythe Broad, I mean 2,000 pieces of art. Yes, 2,000. And apparently it’s a slap in the face for the museum and according to the Times, the entire LA/West coast area because that donation would have allowed Los Angeles to rival New York as being an art center.
Yawn. Where to begin with this one. First off, I will never understand the entire West Coast/East Coast rivalry with every and anything. I thought the rap/hip-hop world decided this was an unproductive battle after all, as fun as it may be to write rhymes about it. I guess I’m coming from the perspective of Chicago, who has the proverbial “Second City” (“Third City”?) chip on its shoulder that I find incredibly boring. So boring that to hear the Times refer to the East/West coast art rivalry was nearly coma-inducing. Yet I read on.
The Broad’s gave LACMA $56 million dollars to help build the new museum. That alone deserves naming rights, but I don’t think that giving LACMA $56 million also means they get to give the museum their entire collection as well. Eli Broad says (and rightly so) that to give the museum 2,000 pieces of art means 80% of it will always be in storage. He feels that if they keep the collection in control of their foundation, it will mean dispersing it to a wider audience through loans for exhibitions at other institutions and museums. I have to wonder if it’s easier for another museum (say, uh, a small remotely located university art museum) to borrow work from a private foundation than from another museum? I can’t say for certain, but probably yes. Hopefully yes.
So to that whole article, I think the Times needs to relax and tone down the conspiratorial tones. Having a large portion of a permanent collection constantly in storage is a problem for all museums. Perhaps trying something different and (gasp!) non-traditional could be a good thing in the long run.
Yesterday, the Times ran two more articles on LACMA, an architectural review of the building and a review of the first exhibition in the new Broad Contemporary Art Museum. Nicolai Ouroussoff’s review of the Renzo Piano-designed addition was pretty scathing, saying the pavilions at the front entrance may bring to mind gas station design. He goes on to say “I’ve seen gas stations in Southern California with far more architectural ambition.” Yeouch. He also goes on to claim the museum knew the building’s shortcomings, so much so they tried to HIDE the building with ART! Imagine that! Using the building to showcase the art! Chris Burden used rows of vintage streetlamps from surrounding LA neighborhoods to create an installation at the entrance that apparently hides the pavilion entrance. For shame, to make the art the focal point.
The other article in yesterday’s paper, a review of the exhibition by Roberta Smith, critiques the fact that the show was too much like a “trophy case” from the Broads collection (the Broads loaned 150 of the 180 pieces in the exhibition) and lacked curatorial focus. Well, this is probably because the museum was trying to organize an exhibition as a way to please the donors who gave the museum FIFTY-SIX MILLION dollars. This is the first show, and for $56 million, I’d let Eli and Edythe curate an entire year of exhibitions! This is the reality of the museum world people! Museums need to please the private donors and foundations in order to stay afloat and be able to grow. It just seems that the old way of thinking about museums as being a traditional model of publicly-funded (and free from the will of private interests) institutions still has a stronghold on a lot of people. Well at least a lot of the people who write about art anyway.
I do think Ms. Smith ended her review with a sense of reality and optimism though, referencing back to the Broad’s decision to not donate their entire collection to the LACMA:
“In the end the Los Angeles museum doesn’t need to own all of Mr. Broad’s art; better that its curators have a chance to choose a few really great works. Public and private collecting has the best results when approached, like making art, as an act of individual imagination spurred by the desire to be different. The goal should be to do something that no one else is doing, not the thing that everyone has already done.”
Whew, there is some hope left for poor little Los Angeles after all. With that trifecta of articles in the past week, it still looks as though New York still rules the art world though, which is incredibly convenient for the writers on that coast.
Famous White Artist Dudes Hanging From My Lobes
Earrings that were gifted to me yesterday – made by the quite talented Emily Lanctot:
I’m going to have trouble not wearing them every day.
I’m traveling to lower Michigan on Wednesday for the holiday and I’m planning on going to see the new Detroit Institute of Arts wing and see what the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit is up to. Next post is most likely to include some commentary on wall labels in museums…something to help wash the turkey down and induce the impending after-turkey nap.
Untitled, Unknown, Perfect.
I went to greasy breakfast and thrift shopping with a good friend in Ishpeming yesterday, a smaller town about 20 minutes southwest of Marquette. I really can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon than eating a big meal and digging through junk with good company. Ishpeming is a strange but sometimes intriguing place to visit – the affects of the rise and decline of the mining industry are much more prominent in certain towns in the Upper Peninsula and Ishpeming is definitely one of them. This is characterized by the typical rows of empty storefronts, leaving the downtown somewhat eerie yet pleasantly quiet. However, there does seem to be an abundance of two things in downtown Ishpeming: bars and antique stores.
We decided to go out wandering through a few of the antique stores after breakfast – I haven’t really been in many places in Ishpeming besides the Salvation Army, Congress Pizza and Da Yoopers Tourist Trap (which I’m proud to say I’ve been to three times in the past 4 months alone). We went into an old theatre-turned-antique store building and I was instantly warmed by it. The entrance still contained the old lobby and the concession stands were still in tact, only covered and filled with the stuff of usual antique stores. Entering the main space through the lobby doors is when I really fell in love with the place: the smell of old combined with the bright but not overbearing lighting, the rows of nooks lining what was once the main seating area (now open and seatless), the white walls, squared off in areas and painted with soft red, flowery decorative icons. It also helped (a lot) that Patsy Cline played from a small radio behind the counter. The entire building, and everything in it and about it had my heart. Alas, i did not have my camera.
But, instead of taking photos, I did something much better. I bought some art. A painting, to be specific. I was perusing the jewelry when I was beckoned over to a wall in a corner, sort of hidden between the entry way and the counter. When he pointed at the painting, I sort of gasped:
I don’t actually own much art. Most of the things I do own are from trading with friends – many of the trades are from when I last lived in Marquette. For some reason I never saw a whole lot of art in grad school that prompted me to inquire about trading. Maybe it was also because I had less physical things to trade for in grad school (“Hey I’d like to own one of your pieces of art. Want to trade? I can tell you all about Bentham’s Panopticon in exchange. Cool?”)
A psychology of barter economics aside, the point is buying a painting, something that would hang in my residence, was sort of a big deal. But just look at this painting! Every color in the rainbow, in various stages of mudied glory, covered by a mysterious island-row of menacing trees. It was the bright bright blue (in what I’m assuming to be more water behind the trees) that won me over – with the lighting the painter was suggesting with the placement of sun, that color would not exist in nature! There would be no highlights on that side of the trees! The reflections of the trees in the water in the foreground are completely mishapen and misproportionate! What is that strip of white? A wave? Snow? What the hell kind of trees are those anyway? Is that some kind of varnish over the trees? A little goopy wax in the corner? Yes! Yes! Yes!
Maybe it’s simply just so bad in a puzzling way that it keeps me interested. I keep looking at it in different light, hanging in my dining/living area. In the daytime it’s bathed in natural light. In the nighttime with artificially produced low lighting, the trees are even more prominent and dark. Painting often doesn’t keep my attention for very long. Maybe I shouldn’t be confessing this, but I often get fidgety around traditional art. Regardless of whether it’s a masterpiece hanging at the Met or a provincial looking scene hanging at a gift shop, I find it hard to focus on what I’m seeing. It has to be really something to make me pause for longer than a minute, and now I have one hanging on my wall. All that for just $15 plus tax.
Many thanks to Marc for pulling me over to that corner and letting me buy his find.
