The Strycker

My Michael Jackson Post

2009-07-01T13:10:00.007-04:00

Because the world has been abuzz about Michael Jackson since his passing on Thursday-- This American Life titled its acts after Michael Jackson hits; Jamie Foxx was moonwalking at the BET awards, every bar I've been in has played a string of MJ hits, and because my boss at SVA is Bob Giraldi, who directed the music video, Beat It as well as the New Generation Pepsi spots with Michael, I feel compelled to blog something about the man in the mirror. What's more, Michael was nothing if not controversial, and I love to blog about controversy in the arts.

No one, save the now grown children involved, can ever truly know if anything sinister happened with Michael, who was accused and ultimately acquitted of child molestation charges. However, he was extensively investigated for over a decade, and although some odd things were discovered, no definitive evidence of foul play was ever unearthed. What's more, people like to fear what's different. Thus, it's my belief that Michael was accused of pedophilia for much of the same reason that homosexuals are often accused of it.

On Monday, Bob twittered, "Time 2 put MJ to rest-forget the rumors, move on 2 remembrance. USA lost 1 of its greatest artists, like Britain's Lennon, Spain's Picasso." Indeed, Michael should be remembered for groundbreaking music, for his thirteen #1 singles and thirteen Grammy Awards, for "I'll be there," and "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough," for Thriller, the top selling original album of all time, and for "We are the World", which raised $50 million for hunger-relief in Africa. But more than that, he was in many ways an artist who should be placed in both the canon of pop musicians and that of performance artists like Marina Abramović, Bruce Nauman, and Vito Acconci, artists who's bodies are their medium. Indeed, most obviously, Michael's voice was his art. So too was dance, how he made his body move. He perfected and popularized the moonwalk; his dance was integral to the evolution of music video production style.

But, in addition to these things that made him an American icon, the multiple plastic surgeries that were the cause of debate in the African American community, contributed to his reputation as an eccentric, and were the subject of many jokes, were also a part of his art. And yes, they may have been art fueled by such things as vitiligo, a troubled youth, depression, even a body dysmorphic disorder, but much great art comes from personal struggle. Throughout his songs and videos is the theme of transformation-- transformation from person to werewolf ("Thriller"), or from person to spaceship ("Moonwalker"), transformation of the world with music and dance ("Beat it;" "We are the World"), thinking beyond racial stereotypes (Dangerous). His surgeries were not, as some believe, an attempt to transform himself into a "white" person. Instead, with each surgery he further metamorphosized into a person who was neither black nor white, masculine nor feminine, but someone who transcended these classifications: he worked to be aracial and agender. And, though this is not my own ideal, I have to respect someone who so fully embodied his art.

The role of the NEA: Is there a place for controverial art in the government's budget?

2009-06-11T11:20:00.019-04:00

A piece about arts funding by David Smith, author of Money for Art: The Tangled Web of Art and Politics in American Democracy, was run in the Wall Street Journal today. The column discusses President Obama’s selections of Jim Leach and Rocco Landesman to head the National Endowment for Humanities (NEH) and the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), respectively. Many in the arts community are disappointed with these choices, as they seem to signal that there will be no change from the somewhat conservative status quo. But Smith embraces these choices; indeed, he argues:

Privately funded art need not steer clear of controversy, but publicly funded art should. In addition to hurting the endowments' standing in Congress, controversy undermines in the public eye the idea that the arts and humanities are important to civic life and are worthy of public funds.

What’s more, he distinguishes between grants made to individual artists, and grants made to programs:

On the surface there's certainly nothing wrong with either cultural agency disbursing grants to individuals. But the debate over such grants highlights the question of who should be the real beneficiary of the endowments: artists and scholars or the public? In truth, the NEA functions just fine without making individual grants. In fact, absent this practice it's easier to see the agency as its creators back in 1965 intended: one whose primary beneficiary is to be the American people as a whole.

The foundation for each of these positions is the belief that the American public as a whole does not benefit from controversial art. But is this assertion true?

In fact, some of the most valuable artistic contributions that have been made have also been controversial, in style, subject matter, or both. These include Goya's Naked Maya and Los Caprichos, Turner's The Slave Ship, the works of the Impressionists, Picasso's Guernica, and Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans.

In literature, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, The Color Purple by Alice Walker, and Ulysses by James Joyce have all sparked debate and been banned or censored from various institutions.

In fact, one appeal of a lot of good art is its ability to provoke controversy, because this often indicates that it is also provoking thought. Certainly there is work that shocks gratuitously, but the fact that an artist presents something shocking or controversial does not make it gratuitous. Nor does it make it self-serving. I can think of no better way to benefit American society than to encourage and stimulate thought.

Smith trumpets such NEA sponsored programs as Shakespeare in American Communities and Poetry Out Loud because these programs foster a sense of appreciation for the arts, which he believes is in keeping with the spirit of the original NEA mission. But, the NEA's stated mission is:

to foster the excellence, diversity, and vitality of the arts in the United States, and help broaden the availability and appreciation of such excellence, diversity, and vitality.

If we are to foster excellence, diversity, and vitality of the arts, then we are to encourage not just appreciation, but also actual making. And, to be fair, the NEA does do that, in the form of grants to organizations that then redistribute the grants to individual artists. The Vermont Studio Center, The Women's Studio Workshop, Aljira Inc, Art in General, and Public Art Fund Inc are examples of organizations that have received NEA grants for "Access to Artistic Excellence," in other words, money that they will pass along to individual artists, often to do a specific project.

I don't know that returning to a system in which artists apply directly to the NEA for money would be the best way to pomote and advance new work. However, I would be interested in exploring whether eliminating some of the middle-men could be a cost-saving measure that doesn't undermine the integrity of arts funding.

Furthermore, Smith ignores the fact that grants for art appreciation could also spark contoversy. In fact, the poets whose work is included in the Poetry Out Loud program include Jimmy Santiago Baca, who spent 6 years in prison for drug possession and intent to sell, Allen Ginsberg, whose work Howl, was the catalyst for an obscenity trial against San Francisco book dealers, and Gertrude Stein, the lesbian author of one of the earliest coming-out stories, Q.E.D, and whose other works, like Tender Buttons, often commented on lesbian sexuality.

Indeed, many of the museums and arts institutions received NEA grants specifically for exhibitions that might be deemed controversial. The Williams College Museum of Art funded the exhibition of controversial African American artist Kara Walker with a $40,000 grant from the NEA. The recent Jenny Holzer exhibition at the Whitney, Protect Protect, which is highly critical of the Iraq war, was made possible with a grant from the NEA.

And that's a good thing. The government should not deny funding to artists or organizations that promote artists simply because the artwork is critical of a societal institution. To do so is indirect censorship. That is, it encourages those in the arts community to abstain from riskier, controversial endeavors in favor of safer, less critical projects that will more readily receive funding. And if we do that, then what we are not "fostering a vitality of the arts in the United States," but rather a degeneration of American culture.

Art and Privilege

2009-06-09T09:42:00.003-04:00

This past weekend, while checking out my friend Joe Borelli’s work as part of the Bushwick Open Studios event, we got in a conversation about art and privilege: Simply, creative pursuits require money and time. Connections help too. As such, those who come from money and an upper class background have an advantage. They can take off for three months to do a residency that allows them to make more work and more relationships in the art world without worrying about how to pay rent and loans and bills. They can take low paying or even unpaid positions because they offer an opportunity to work with a well-known artist or at a prestigious institution. Or they can work part-time, not be burdened by an inflexible 40+ hr a week schedule; they can go into their studios fresh, rather than exhausted after a long day of work for someone else. They can make projects on a scale or with materials that others simply can’t afford to realize. Those projects then get recognition and more funding for even larger projects—the whole thing is cyclical. The rich really do get richer.

But, is this an issue that is unique to artists? Indeed, hasn’t the disparity between the upper and middle and working classes been growing? Hasn’t the cost of higher education been increasing exponentially? Isn’t this just indicative of a larger societal issue?

The answer is of course, yes. But, the issue is even more exaggerated in the arts for the following reasons:

1) Art is the artist’s job. Everything else, at least in terms of employment and career, is secondary. The goal is not to advance in the job or jobs that pay the bills. Those jobs, often only tangentially related to one’s real job of being an artist, offer little help in terms of advancement in the art world, and in fact, take away time from the research, making, schmoozing, and applying that is all part of being an artist—(No, I am not so romantic as to think that being an artist is only about making artwork). So, those with the means to pursue art without having to hold down another job or jobs are able to spend more time on their job of being an artist, and will have an advantage in advancing in that job.

Also, this is different from the lawyer who has to put in her time at a corporate law firm to pay off her student loans before she can start a small practice that focuses on domestic violence issues. She still gets to be a lawyer at the big firm, and is practicing and learning law-related things there. Or, she can choose to ultimately stick with the big firm, and join the ranks of the wealthy. Sticking with art brings no financial security.

2) Related to this, artists are more likely to be freelancers. This means that they have little security in their means of income. Freelancers aren’t eligible for unemployment when their contracts end, and they’ve often been working without health insurance or other benefits. The artist who lives paycheck to paycheck can quickly spiral into severe debt when he becomes un or underemployed, which leads to anxiety and depression, neither of which is good for artmaking (despite the tortured artist myth).

3) Education. The costs of education are rising, and the idea of studying to be an artist doesn’t seem like a viable way to pay back the loans that are often necessary to pay for school. And, many of the best art schools are also among the most expensive. But, unlike, say, the best engineering schools, or law schools, or business schools, a degree from one of the best art schools is still little assurance of making major career advancement as an artist (but it is not worthless— that MFA is a requisite for many galleries now.) This was the case before the economic recession (which admittedly has made job searches more difficult for most disciplines), and now the economy’s downturn has only exaggerated the issue for artists, as galleries close or scale back on shows, or cut down on the artists they represent. So, students without means can abandon the idea of becoming an artist, downgrading art from career to hobby, and pursue something else. Or, they can saddle themselves with the loans that make it necessary for them to take jobs that distract from their real job of being an artist.

The result is that the pool of working artists becomes less economically diverse. Because it takes a certain amount of privilege, or a certain amount of delusion that one can break into such privilege, to identify as an artist. There was an article in the NY Times yesterday about the collapse of Williamsburg, a trendy Brooklyn neighborhood that has found favor with many of the city’s artists, now that so many of the hipsters’ trust funds have dried up. (Full disclosure: my apartment and studio are in the burg) I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’d like to think that it’s the start of putting artists from different financial backgrounds on more equal footing, but in reality, it may just make it even harder for those of us who never had money to make art.

The Art of Cupcakes

2009-05-13T16:10:00.020-04:00

I might have to go Rirkrit Tiravanija on everyone and start making and serving food as my art. But, instead of the Thai curries that Tiravanija made for his "Free" and "Still" shows, my medium will be cupcakes. Baking has always been a relaxing, creative activity for me, and I'm still jazzed from my victories this past Monday night at the Brooklyn Kitchen's 3rd Annual Cupcake Cookoff, a fundraiser for the Greenpoint Soup Kitchen. I had no idea that there would be so many entries-- almost sixty, many of them beautifully and meticulously decorated. I was a bit embarrassed by the open, flimsy aluminum trays I showed up with carrying my decidely not uniform sweets. But, soon I was in a drunken sugar shock after tasting so many delicious confections. Two of my favorites were the Pineapple with Spicy Cilantro Icing Cupcakes and the Mini Vanilla Cupcakes with Lemon Curd Filling.

After viewing (and tasting) the competition, I was floored when I heard Taylor Erkkinen announce my PB & J Cakes as the winner of the plain and simple flavor category. Minutes later, I was even more surprised to hear my name called again; this time my Bananas Foster Cakes had taken first prize in the exotic flavor category! I didn't think to bring a camera, but, Not Eating Out in New York has an unidentified pic of me on her blog, along with a recipe for some delicious looking Green Tea Coconut Minicakes that I'll have to try.

I had a great time; I have "Sugar High" ala Renee Zellweger in Empire Records playing in my head, big plans to learn how to decorate my mini-cakes, and am still pondering how I can incorporate all of this into my art.

Below is my recipe for PB and J Cakes:

1 c. of peanut butter

2 c. sugar
3 c. flour (I try to use cake/ pastry flour if I can find it)
3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
4 eggs
2 tablespoons of vanilla
1 cup milk (soy milk works just as well too)
berry preserves (purchased, or you can make your own as I did by
boiling raspberries, blackberries, etc with a couple of teaspoons of
sugar and a splash of water. let it cook down, and cool.)

Preheat oven to 350.
Cream peanut butter and gradually add sugar (process should take 10 minutes.
In a separate bowl, sift flour and add baking powder and salt.
Add eggs one at a time to the peanut butter. Add flour mixture alternately with milk and vanilla.
Stir until smooth.
Fill cupcake liners halfway with cake batter. Put a spoonful of preserves in each cup.
Put the second half of the batter in each liner, on top of the preserves.
Bake in the oven at 350 for about 20 minutes. Ice with Peanut Butter Frosting and serve.

Peanut Butter Frosting

4oz of cream cheese (1/2 package) (still cold)
3/4 cup of peanut butter
2 tbsp butter, softened
3 cups of confectioners sugar, sifted
Splash of vanilla or rum
Milk to thin if necessary

Beat together peanut butter, cream cheese, and butter.
Slowly add the confectioners sugar.
Add the vanilla or rum.
Add milk one tablespoon at a time (or additional rum) to thin, as necessary.
Makes about 3 cups.

Makes about 24 cupcakes or 12-15 jumbo cupcakes.

Archiving Digital Media

2009-05-12T10:37:00.019-04:00

Last month, I downloaded a trial version of the most recent Adobe After Effects, CS4, so that I could work on the titles for a short film project. A couple of days after my 30-day trial expired, a few adjustments had to be made. I have the previous version of After Effects, CS3, on my personal laptop, so I saved it on a flash drive and brought it home to make the changes. But when I tried to open the file, I was informed that it was not compatible with the program. What followed was a multiple-hour frenzy of finding another computer on which I could download another trial version (using an alternate e-mail address) so that I could open up the file, make the changes, and resave it. All for two lines! This got me thinking about the notion of backwards compatibility and of archiving digital/ new media artwork in general.

As artists, we are encouraged to use archival materials: ph neutral paper, reversible glues that won’t yellow over time, acrylics under oils. Yet, what happens when we choose to work in a medium whose materials are rapidly and perpetually changing?

One issue is how to store digital media. In 2007, DSG International and PC World announced that they would no longer stock the once ubiquitous floppy disks. Consumers now use cds, dvds, and flash drives to store and transport data. Indeed, computers today do not even have a place to insert a floppy.

For video, dvds have replaced VHS tapes, and now new technologies, like the Apple TV, may soon replace dvds. Ipods and MP3 players hold our music, which was previously held on cd's, and before that, on cassette tapes. Even under optimal storage conditions, digital media is fragile. In fact, there is much debate over the life expectancy of dvds and cds; some estimates claim they will last for up to two-hundred years, but a researcher at IBM has said that most have an anticipated life expectancy of just two to five years, far less than the hundred-year standard that makes something archival. What's more, the rapid updating of operating systems and programs renders much information that does survive obsolete.

And, presently, there's no standard for preserving or archiving artwork that is created from digital media. This includes digital photos and prints, and the obvious solution there is to preserve the physical print. But, more complicated is what happens when the work in need of preservation is not printed, not physical, but was originally created and viewed using some new technology? Such work includes projections, art-project websites, multi-media time-based works, etc. How do we best preserve or archive an artwork created using a digital media?

So, archiving digital media is not simply problematic because the technology used to create the work is constantly being rendered obsolete, but also because the materials used to hold data integral to the work are not necessarily archival. In an effort to overcome both the ephemeral nature of the media and the problem of technological obsolescence, many archivists periodically refresh digital information; that is, they copy it onto a newer media. But this necessitates two things: that the information is independent of the software and hardware used to create it, and that the software and hardware used to create the work is still viable, or at the very least, that new software is backwards compatible with the original software. Migration, in which information is transferred but it's formatting, etc are not always maintained (imagine what happens when you open a word document in text edit, for example), is even more problematic in terms of artwork, where the formatting of a work may be fundamental to the piece.

And, even if this constant resaving of digital information onto the newest technologies does work as a method of preservation, it’s incredibly time consuming and expensive. New media artists need a better way to document and preserve their works. Fortunately, there are myriad groups working on this: Jane Hunter and Sharmin Choudhury's PANIC (Preservation and Archival of Newmedia and Interactive Collections) model aspires to be capable of preserving all forms of digital media, including composite, mixed-media digital objects, and even uses mixed-media digital art as its three major case studies; Richard Rinehart's MANS (Media Art Notation System) uses a musical score as its conceptual model. Rinehart has created a standardized system for notating and reading digital media in the way that we notate and read music. It's particularly interesting because such a system gives us the ability to recreate works without actually having to recreate them in a specific code or language.

Yet, even if MANS is the optimal model to archive digital and variable media, does it actually succeed in doing what conservators and archivists of more traditional media seek to do, which is to not simply document, but to preserve the artwork? Archiving is record keeping, and different methods (Refreshing, PANIC, MANS, our own memories) may be more accurate than others at correctly documenting what a work was like. This documentation may make it possible to recreate or reperform a work, but is that recreation also the artwork?

Certainly the creator system such as MANS that uses musical notation as its model likely thinks this is so. When we go to a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony we believe that we are experiencing the artwork and not just a documentation or copy of the artwork. The Philadelphia Philharmonic’s version of Beethoven’s Fifth is just as much the art as it was when Beethoven was alive to perform it on his piano or conduct an orchestra.

Precedent for a sort of archive as artwork also exists in the visual arts canon. Marcel’s Duchamp’s first readymade, Bicycle Wheel, consisted of two common objects: a bicycle wheel mounted upside down on a kitchen stool. The Museum of Modern Art houses a Bicycle Wheel, but it is DuChamp’s third version of the piece. The first two were lost. However, the museum states:

the fact that this version of the piece is not the original seems inconsequential, at least in terms of visual experience.

Indeed, more important was the fact that the items used to create Bicycle Wheel were mass produced, anonymous. Twelve Bicycle Wheels were created, four, and then an authorized edition of eight. The later versions, produced more than forty years after the first, look more modern because they used the contemporary, mass produced wheels and stools available at that time, following the spirit of the work. In this way, once could say that a digital artwork that looks different than it had originally because it’s utilizing updated technologies is still, in fact, the artwork.

Yet, more similar to the idea of an archiving model for digital media than instructions for making a physical work is an archive of another ephemeral media: performance art. In November of 2005, performance artist Marina Abramovic presented Seven Easy Pieces at the Guggenheim, in which she reenacted, with the artists’ permission, five famous performance pieces by other artists, and two of her own. Much of the concept of Seven Easy Pieces lies in the fact that performance is such an ephemeral medium, and documentation of these performances are few. In this way, Seven Easy Pieces is able to exist simultaneously as an archive and as an artwork, one that comments on the nature of performance art, documentation and archive. However, when the audience saw Abramovic reperform Bruce Nauman's Body Pressure they were not seeing the artwork, Body Pressure. Instead they were seeing an archive of Body Pressure and a portion of an entirely new artwork, Seven Easy Pieces. It is my belief that at its best, an archive of digital media will do this as well: act as a record of a necessarily ephemeral medium and, while doing this, become an entirely new piece of art.

Parsons Resolution?

2009-04-23T12:03:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, less than twenty-four hours before a planned rally in support of the fired/ non-retained fine arts faculty at Parsons The New School of Design, Art Info reports on a new press release issued in which the school apologizes for the lack of poor communication and also promises to "make every effort to offer appropriate teaching assignments to non-annual [i.e., adjunct] faculty."

http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/31233/on-eve-of-planned-protest-parsons-provost-tries-to-stem-faculty-layoff-controversy/

More on Parsons...

2009-04-13T11:47:00.002-04:00

... an update from Artnet, in which they also mention the particular relevancy of Columbia faculty criticizing Coco Fusco, (also mentioned in my previous post).

and a blog from Parsons' fine art faculty

Speaking of New School...

2009-04-10T15:59:00.004-04:00

The NY Times City Room reports on another sit-in at The New School, resulting in the arrest of 19 student protesters who are calling for Bob Kerrey's resignation.

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/04/10/students-occupy-new-school-building-again/?hp

Once again, I do believe that Bob Kerrey should resign. But I don't think that we should attach an immoral value judgment to Parsons' faculty cuts and restructuring of their fine arts program.

Parsons: Not as simple as it seems

2009-04-10T12:21:00.016-04:00

Earlier this week, the New York Times and Artnet each reported on a controversial faculty cut at Parsons The New School for Design . On March 10th, between one third and one half of all fine-arts faculty at the university received letters from the office of the recently hired chair, interdisciplinary political artist Coco Fusco, severely reducing the amount of credits they were teaching, reassigning them out of the department, or terminating their employment entirely.

Most members of the faculty at Parsons are part-time adjuncts who work on a contract basis, with contracts being renewed each semester or each year. Thus, the school has not technically fired anyone; instead, they've simply opted to not re-hire certain individuals. Tim Marshall, the university's interim provost explains Parsons' position,"This is not a disciplinary action-- no one's been fired.... As you update the curriculum, you have to look at the best fit."

Members of the Parsons arts faculty submitted a petition to the New School administration stating,

We the undersigned hereby affirm our opposition to the summary firing of our valued colleagues from the Parsons Fine Arts department. These fellow teachers and artists have given their time and energy to Parsons for many, many years. They, like all adjunct faculty at Parsons, have worked many hours beyond their contractual commitments and have provided scholarship, skill and guidance to countless students. Furthermore to not rehire faculty in this economic climate is both cruel and socially irresponsible.

While we support the innovations of the school of Art, Media and Technology we cannot do so at the expense of our colleague’s livelihoods. We therefore insist upon an immediate reversal of aforementioned summary firings.

An e-mail message signed by Gregory Amenoff, the Chair of Columbia University's Visual Arts Program and five other full-time faculty members at the School of the Arts, Tomas Vu-Daniel, Blake Rayne, Kara Walker, Jon Kessler, and Thomas Roma read,

We stand united in expressing our dismay at the recent firings (and demotions) of so many talented artist/educators. The suddenness of this wholesale action coupled with the clear lack of prior dialogue makes these firings particularly grievous. But even more troubling is that these decisions were made during a period of crisis for all cultural institutions in this city and beyond.

It went on to call the move "anti-artist, anti-arts education and frankly anti-culture."

So, is the termination of the Parsons adjunct faculty contracts unethical in part or solely because of the current economic recession? Would it also be unethical during an economic boom? Should universities be held to a higher ethical standard than other organizations/companies? Does the fact that this is an art school have any bearing on the ethics of the situation? What moral obligation does a university have toward its employees? Toward its faculty specifically? Toward its students? What moral responsibility does an art school bare toward the arts community at large? Are certain artistic media more important than others? Are art schools morally obligated to preserve or promote particular media in order to preserve or promote particular faculty? Does hiring new arts faculty cancel out firing old arts faculty?

As much as I dislike New School president Bob Kerrey , this particular situation at Parsons is just not as simple as the administration being evil for firing or demoting longtime faculty. A university, or college, or school is ethically bound to proceed in the way that will most benefit its students. In fact, Parson's website states the school's mission as this:

Parsons focuses on creating engaged citizens and outstanding artists, designers, scholars and business leaders through a design-based professional and liberal education.Parsons students learn to rise to the challenges of living, working and creative decision making in a world where human experience is increasingly designed. The school embraces curricular innovation, pioneering uses of technology, collaborative methods and global perspectives on the future of design.

Indeed, the school has historically emphasized design as opposed to traditional fine art, (i.e. painting and sculpture-- although design v. art is another discussion). Regardless of where one sides in the design v. art debate, it is undeniable that designers are among the first to incorporate new technologies into their practices, and the use of technology is integral to most design practices. It therefore makes sense that Parsons wants to emphasize its new media and technology programs, even within the fine arts department. What's more, a cursory glance at the makeup of each department within Parsons School of Art and Technology, in which the fine arts department resides, reveals that the majority of undergraduates major in a design/ technology/ new media field as opposed to a more traditional medium. This indicates that there is more of a demand for these new media courses than for painting or sculpture courses at the university. There are 76 students enrolled in in the BFA Fine Arts program as opposed to 306 students in the BFA Communication Design Program, and 163 students in the BFA Design and Technology Program. So, if Parsons wants to make its Fine Arts program more desirable, perhaps it should emphasize art that uses technology (new genres as opposed to painting and sculpture.) And, especially during a recession, it makes sense that the demand for more marketable art and design skills such as web design would be up. Even if one is using technologies such as photoshop, illustrator, flash, html programming, etc, in a fine art practice, they are still arguably more marketable skills than painting.

And this brings me to the adjunct faculty that was cut or demoted. Although no complete list of the affected faculty has been released, from the outraged comments, it seems as though the majority of those affected are those who work in traditional media. For example, Dale Emmart and Jean-Pierre Roy , both repeatedly mentioned and quoted in articles and on blogs, are both painters. In fact, one could argue that, had some of these artists expanded and diversified their practices to include new media, their contracts may have been renewed. I am an installation artist with an MFA in printmaking, but, because I am well-versed in technology, the undergraduate courses I have taught (not at Parsons) include Digital Imaging and Internet Imaging. So, is the terminating of faculty contracts of those working in traditional media socially irresponsible because traditional media is more socially valuable than new media? In reality, one could also make a (weaker) case that because so much of new genre work is politically motivated, particularly in these times, it is in fact, new media that is more morally responsible.

What's more, the administration at Parsons has said that they plan on adding more full-time faculty as well as new adjuncts. So aren't they still providing working artists with income, even if it is a different group of working artists? And, the addition of full-time faculty positions will provide more working artists with health insurance, benefits, job security, and a decent wage, things that one doesn't get as an adjunct.

Finally, I find Columbia's position on the matter particularly hypocritical and self-serving (and I say this as a Columbia alumna, a former staff member, and a sometimes adjunct faculty member of the University, who considers several of the letter signers mentors and friends). Last year, when Carol Becker became the new dean of Columbia's School of the Arts, she eliminated several longtime administrative staff members, redefining their positions and making them (unsuccessfully) reapply for them. How was that more or less moral than what new chair, Coco Fusco is doing at Parsons? Is it because Parsons is redefining teaching positions and Columbia redefined admin positions? They are all still jobs in the arts that attract artists. Given Columbia's tense relationship with their own former faculty member, Fusco, the criticism seems suspicious.

What is warranted is outrage over the way in which Parson's restructuring is taking place. It does appear to be too cloaked in secrecy. The lines of communication have to be kept open with students, faculty, staff, and alumni so that the restructuring feels more like a collaborative process that will ultimately lead to a more enriching educational experience, rather than a dark dictatorship that will lead to mutiny. Kerrey and Fusco need to address the concerns of the community with more than guarded press releases. Otherwise, no matter how morally in the right they are, they will seem like the bad guys.

Don't be afraid to make a commodity

2009-03-11T10:26:00.005-04:00

This past Sunday, I went to the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council (LMCC) Workspace Works-in Progress Open Studios. Although there were notable exceptions, including Laura Braciale's object-paintings and Elana Herzog's fiber and molded paper pieces, I noticed that a majority of the work was project generated. That is, rather than make objects--paintings or sculptures, the artist has "made" an idea. The tangible work created serves less as an aesthetic object that is the working through and realization of an idea, and more as the illustration of an idea. It's a blueprint rather than a building. Because the object produced is not really the artist's work, it makes it difficult for the viewer to be critical of the work. For example, an artist decides she is interested in language, and the connections we draw from seemingly unrelated objects. She places groups of objects together. The viewer says, "Yes. I see these connections." The conversation is over.

When the craft and process are immaterial rather than integral to the creation of an artwork, the work produced does not feel like art, but instead, like a secondary, disconnected thing. Ironically, the problem is the same if the object created is mired in process, so well crafted that there is nothing beyond the pure aesthetics of it. Perhaps, in the last decade of excess, many artists were so afraid to create a commodity that they chose instead to essentially create nothing at all. So now is the time to rejoice-- nobody's buying art! Artists are free to make THINGS without fear of being accused of simply making a sellable something. So make a painting; make a sculpture; or make an installation or a video, but just don't be afraid to make a commodity, because right now, it's not one.

Brandeis: Selling is not always the solution

2009-01-27T21:22:00.004-05:00

The New York Times reported that Brandeis University has decided to close its Rose Art Museum, and sell off it entire collection to raise funds for the school, which potentially faces a $10 million budget deficit. Jehuda Reinharz, the university's president issued a statement about the decision:

These are extraordinary times We cannot control or fix the nation’s economic problems. We can only do what we have been entrusted to do — act responsibly with the best interests of our students and their futures foremost in mind.

In a previous posting, I advocated that LA MOCA, also in financial crisis, sell off works from its permanent collection in order to raise revenue. The decision to sell the Rose Art Museum's collection, however, is an entirely different scenario, one which will have lasting effects on the university, the student body it attracts, and the cultural education that its students receive.

First, Brandeis University is located in Waltham, MA, 9 miles outside of Boston. This is certainly a manageable driving distance, but many undergraduate students come to the university without a car. For them, the museum offers a more convenient opportunity to see many of the works they've read about in their art history textbooks. The collection includes paintings by Willem de Kooning, Jasper Johns, Roy Lichtenstein, Morris Louis, James Rosenquist, and Andy Warhol. It also has a valuable contemporary collection, with works by Kiki Smith, Matthew Barney, Richard Serra, and Judy Pfaff, among others. Indeed, for many students, viewing the collection at the Rose is their first experience seeing a Modern masterpiece in person, their first time seeing challenging contemporary art. Eliminating the collection also eliminates this opportunity.

What's more, the museum is world renowned. Not only do scholars travel to Waltham, MA to study works in the collection, but many of the works have travelled to exhibitions throughout the world. Among the museums that artworks from the Rose have been exhibited in are MoMA, Guggenheim, The Met, and The Philadelphia Museum of Art. It's not simply the student population at Brandeis that is affected; millions of people have seen some of the 6000 works included in the Rose's collection.

Finally, and most importantly, the reflects a value shift for the university. It says that art is not important; it is not valued as more than an indulgence; it is not integral to a liberal arts education. The Rose is a draw for both art students and artist lecturers, who are again, in turn, a draw for art students. I can only imagine that Brandeis' prestigious studio art, art history, and post-bac programs will wither and decline with the news of the Rose's demise.

Brandeis, however, does not seem concerned about losing this cultural-minded student population. In fact, the university is currently undergoing discussions about changes to its curriculum. Proposals include the addition of business and engineering programs as well as finding a way to simultaneously expand undergraduate enrollment while reducing the number of faculty. Dennis Nealon, the executive director of media and public relations at Brandeis, said closing the museum will not damage Brandeis' reputation as "one of the nation's consistently highest ranked educational institutions."

"It's a university first," he said. "It's a university that has a museum, not a museum that has a university. It's not an end to anything. It's a beginning." Indeed-- a beginning of a frightening new value set for Brandeis.

Also check out...

2009-01-24T19:59:00.002-05:00

Stanley Whitney's work in Haunch of Venison's three person exhibition, Infinite Patience. Whitney's geometric abstractions evoke Piet Mondrian and Agnes Martin, folk art and music. Square canvases are divided further into squares, creating a tension between bounded and boundlessness.

Go See...

2009-01-24T17:08:00.004-05:00

If you're in the mood for a good painting show, go see Zach Harris' Requiem Reversals at Max Protetch. Harris makes hallucinatory and psychedelic landscapes that have references as varied as medieval amulets, spiritual Buddhist imagery, Constructivism, Impressionism, and Abstract Expressionism. Each painting is encapsulated by a delicate, carefully crafted wood frame, each its own complete world.

Also check out my fellow Tyler alum, Marlo Pascual at the Swiss Institute. Pascual creates fragmentary still lifes from found vintage photographs and props such as cacti, an old lamp, a wooden beam that are simultaneously nostalgic and creepy.

I say sell

2008-12-02T11:08:00.004-05:00

Last week, billionaire philanthropist Eli Broad offered $30 million to the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art, which announced several days prior to that, that it was in financial crisis. LA MOCA’s endowment has withered to less than $10 million, from its high of about $40 million several years ago. The Museum has been forced to make cuts that include closing more than half its exhibition space, the Geffen Contemporary annex, for six months.

Broad was a founding chair of LA MOCA in 1979, and has long been one of Los Angeles’ biggest arts patrons, recently donating over $60 million to the Los Angeles County Museum. In an op-ed article published on Saturday, November 22nd, Broad stated that through his Broad Art Foundation, he would invest $30 million in LA MOCA “with the expectation that the museum’s board and others join in this effort to solve the institution’s financial problems.”

The gift is contingent on the Museum remaining independent. Broad’s op-ed stated: “Being merged into another institution would destroy the fabric of a great museum and would sacrifice the independent curatorial vision that has created an extraordinary collection and many unparalleled exhibitions.”

Furthermore, he warned that the museum should not sell any of its collection: “The greatest travesty to come out of MOCA’s current financial crisis would be for it to sell any of its artworks to cover operating deficits—an action that would be anathema for a museum.”

But, without merging with another institution, such as the Los Angeles County Museum of Art or the University of Southern California, as officials at the museum had talked about, or selling pieces of the Museum’s permanent collection, how can LA MOCA raise money? The country is in economic crisis; many corporate arts patrons such as the Lehman Brothers have failed; it’s not that they are simply not giving money to the arts, it’s that there is no money to give, and sometimes even no company to give it! The Museum can only raise ticket prices so high before people, already cutting back on restaurants, movies, and other entertainment expenditures, stop coming.

I understand that it is important for LA MOCA to retain its own identity—remaining an independent institution is integral to its mission “to be the defining museum of contemporary art,” and if it’s able to weather this current economic recession, it should not come out married to another institution that might stifle its curatorial vision.

This is why the Museum must sell works from its permanent collection in order to raise revenue. The alternative is to put on vapid blockbuster shows—shows that will bring in the crowds and perhaps some memberships (which increase revenue), but are inexpensive, and not necessarily thought provoking. LA MOCA has had blockbuster shows in recent memory—Takashi Murakami comes to mind. But this could not have been an inexpensive show. Indeed, the museum is still dealing with some of the legal repercussions of the exhibition.

Instead, think: summer show. But in the fall, winter and spring too. Then it just becomes Guggenheim Vegas. And we all know how that went. In the summer, museums tend to give the public more eye candy than substantive art meal. It's hot. It's harder to think. We just want to see pretty things. I’ll admit, I’ve enjoyed some of these: Jackie O at the Met in 2000, Summer of Love at the Whitney in 2007. These are fun shows, they are shows that draw crowds, but they are not thought provoking or challenging. They are not introducing a new audience to an established but difficult artist’s work, or an emerging artist to the larger audience that a museum brings.

What’s more, this is a museum of Contemporary Art. Contemporary art by definition is always changing. While work of the 80’s or 70’s or 60’s is valuable and has a place in the art historical canon, and helps us to understand and put into perspective works made in the 21st century that we are now living in, it is almost three, four, or five decades old. Perhaps it now fits another museum or collector’s mission better. The Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) has a long history of selling valuable works from its permanent collection in order to raise revenue for new works and exhibitions. It has not been, as Eli Broad warns, an anathema to that museum, and it won’t be for LA MOCA. Putting on a show about Harleys or Swatch watches or nostalgic television shows or some other inane thing to raise revenue would be an anathema. Selling off some of the permanent collection just might save this museum.

Hard Times, Art Times

2008-11-19T20:05:00.005-05:00

One of my favorite quotes comes from the Preface to Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Gray:

All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.
When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.
We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.
All art is quite useless.

Indeed, art is useless. A Mercedes, although pricey, functions as a car. It will get you to the Fairway Market, or to the burbs to visit your family. A Knoll table is a place to rest your coffee cup each morning. A steak from Peter Luger’s fills your stomach. A Marc Jacobs coat keeps you warm. One can even argue that these items are well made; they will last a long time (well, not the steak.) Part of their exorbitant price tags comes not just from their labels, but from their high quality. But art is the ultimate luxury item, the supreme commodity. No one needs art and then chooses to buy the best art, or chooses to buy a less flashy but well made and functional piece of art. Art is valuable because it is unnecessary.

And so, in this present day economic crisis, as individuals and companies cut back, eliminating every extra from cappuccini to water coolers to bonuses to entire positions, are people indulging in this thing we call art? How is the art world, a planet of Jeff Koons and Damien Hirsts and Liz Peytons, that often seems unrelated to the rest of Earth, affected by the world of stock crashes and adjustable rate mortgages?

Several of my friends who are art handlers were just laid off. Another friend at a non-profit arts organization did not have her contract renewed because of a lack of funding. A gallery that was interested in a friend six months ago told him that they are not taking any new artists at this time. Shows for others are being pushed back. These are hard times to be an investment banker, but they are also hard times to be an artist.

The collapse of Lehman Brothers has had grave repercussions for the artworld: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the American Folk Art Museum, the Asia Society, the Brooklyn Museum of Art, the Dahesh Museum of Art, the Frick Collection, the International Center of Photography, the Japan Society, the Jewish Museum, the Morgan Library & Museum, the Museum of Arts & Design, the New Museum of Contemporary Art and the Whitney Museum of American Art all counted Lehman Brothers among their patrons. Indeed, in the past year, the investment bank gave millions in charitable donations to museums. They were the lead sponsor for both the Brice Marden retrospective at MoMA and the Jackson Pollock show No Limits, Just Edges at the Guggenheim. Certainly museums are now searching for alternative funding. Exhibitions will likely be scaled back, and run for longer periods of time.

In addition to the loss in arts funding that is a direct result of the Lehman Brothers’ bankruptcy, they are now selling their corporate art collection, a part of the Neuberger Berman asset management unit. They are taking bids from several companies, but if the recent disappointing auction sales are any indication, despite the stellar quality of the collection, it may go for less than expected.

A Sotheby’s auction earlier this month netted one million dollars less than expected for a Warhol painting. Works by other prominent artists, including Jeff Koons, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Gerhard Richter failed to sell at London's Frieze Art Fair.

This is a huge contrast from two years ago, when Columbia University’s School of the Arts decided to stop allowing its first year MFA’s to participate in open studios, because too many dealers were coming and buying up the work of students before they’d even completed a semester of graduate school. Will galleries take a chance on an emerging artist’s work right now, when they are having difficulty selling the works of other, more established artists? How many galleries will even survive this economic collapse? What will become of Chelsea? Can anything but the blue-chips persevere?

This could be the rise of a new neighborhood for art in New York City, The recession of the 90’s is ultimately what lead to the rise of Soho and then Chelsea as the premiere gallery/ studio neighborhoods. Galleries have already begun to spring up in the Lower East side. We’ll see more of this, and an expansion of the Williamsburg/ Bushwick gallery scene as well, as galleries are unable to afford the rents in Chelsea.

Finally, although this is not a good time for art selling, it may be a great time for artmaking. In recent years, a lot of work has been, at least in part, about commerce and consumerism: Takashi Murakami, Jeff Koons, Mark Kostabi, Damien Hirst. Perhaps its time that we, as artists, look back to movements such as arte povera for inspiration. I predict that we’ll be seeing more performance art, more art in public and community spaces, more ephemeral work, and more socially conscious work in the next few years. Art can leave the realm of sarcasm that has been the standard for so long and instead be unabashedly sincere. I can't wait.

Go see...

2008-11-17T09:45:00.002-05:00

If you miss a good painting show, go see Live Forever: Elizabeth Peyton at the New Museum. I remember hearing Liz Peyton speak at Columbia University's Visiting Artist Lecture Series in 2002. She played a Strokes video, said nothing substantive, and generally seemed too cool for school. I was completely turned off and couldn't enjoy her work for years. But her paintings are just so damn good, I'm a fan again. Her more recent work, portraits of friends done from life rather than from magazine photographs, as her earlier work was, are especially striking: full of life, defying the image of the vapid speaker that I saw six years ago. Each jewel colored portrait is at once feminine and suggestive, precious and bold. With some work, I like it because of the artist. With these, I can't help myself; I like it in spite of her.

This is my life. Breathe.

2008-10-07T11:45:00.003-04:00

On September 30th, the contract for one of my three jobs ended. I know that doesn’t sound horrible, but I am a freelancer, and I need three jobs to survive. I can’t remember not having three jobs. I can’t remember not always searching for a new job, perhaps a slightly better job, or perhaps just something to pay the bills. I can’t remember not being broke.

Indeed, I am underemployed and living on my best friend’s couch. Two overflowing reusable grocery bags, filled with my belongings, sit on her easy chair. A pair of flip-flops, a pair of flats, and my running sneakers are tucked beneath. My friend has begun calling me Kato.

To be fair, I was living in Adrienne’s apartment for the entire month before I lost my job. At first, she wasn’t here; she was vacationing and I was performing valuable services: watering her plants, retrieving her mail, making the place look lived in. Then she returned, and I stayed because it was an opportunity to hang out—we hadn’t seen each other in over a month! Plus, I could cook and clean for her. I love cooking! I love organizing! And my friend really doesn’t, so again—valuable services. But, at this moment, as I sit at my computer in pajama pants and watch her get ready for her job at a big, corporate law firm, the fact that I have no work today makes the situation feel ever more pathetic.

In high school, I was voted “Most Likely to Succeed.” Now, my ten-year reunion is approaching, and my goal is to have health insurance before I attend. Why this impending reunion has suddenly motivated me to acquire a healthcare plan beyond band-aids and my friends’ expired prescription drugs, I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m fearful that seeing my former classmates married, with children and homes and pets and full-time jobs, leading peppy suburban lives, will send me over the edge. I’ll drunkenly take off running and wind up smack into a metal traffic sign, ending the night with a concussion and in desperate need of stitches and a tetanus shot.

I try to remind myself that I have chosen this. I am an artist. I have chosen to live this hobo/ boho lifestyle, free from job security and most of what modern medicine has to offer, but also free from suits and meetings and moral/political compromise. I get to make art. And sometimes, I get to show the art that I make. I get to help other people make art, and teach people new ways of artmaking. I get to be an artist. And so, on the brink of an anxiety attack, I repeat this mantra: This is my life. This is my choice. Breathe.

Work in Progress

2008-09-21T14:28:00.002-04:00

I took a break from blogging for the summer to settle into a new job with Sarah Sze and a new studio space in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

But now, school is in session, and I am back. In addition to working for Sarah, I am also teaching a printmaking course at Columbia University.

Pictured is an installation in progress from my studio. Built from recycled cardboard tubes, styrofoam packaging, copper wire, string, and pushpins, the work is meant to use household/ industrial items to recall ecological systems.

In the Hudson River Valley...

2008-06-26T00:07:00.002-04:00

I have three pieces presently on view at the Ann Street Gallery, in Newburgh, New York, located in the Hudson River Valley.

The exhibition, Printed Matter, includes work from nine contemporary artists working with printmaking, often combining traditional techniques and modern technologies.

Pictured are my pieces, Swarm, woodcut, digital, and collage on Japanese paper and Into the thicket, woodcut, monotype, and collage on Japanese paper.

At Gallery Satori

2008-06-25T23:20:00.002-04:00

An article in The New York Times this week talks about the "SoHoification" of the Lower East Side. It's referring to the glut of new galleries in the neighborhood. I visited one of these galleries last week. Gallery Satori's inaugural exhibition, Unreal City, features work from twelve emerging artists that explores the perpetually changing urban landscape.

Highlights include Stephanie Costello's pen and ink drawing of a deteriorating landscape filled with tattered flags and ribbons.

Cosme Herrera's drawing, New Forests II, uses minimal elements to create a complex space. A wood grain vinyl sits starkly on top of a white sheet of paper. The horizontal line of the grain contrasts with the organic, root-like structure in the foreground, while the vertical grain emphasizes the lines of one point perspective that the wall-like structures follow.

The show is open until July 27th. Gallery Satori is located at 164 Stanton Street in Manhattan.

Low tech works too

2008-06-04T00:16:00.003-04:00

At RARE PLUS, Italian artist Eugenio Percossi's installation, Black and White, made me smile. I was so enamored with Olafur Eliasson's Room for one colour, in which the Scandinavian artist used a weird yellow light to make viewers in the room appear to be black and white. Percossi's installation also evokes old cinema and black and white photography, but it does so in an even more low-tech way. Every thing in this empty bedroom is in shades of gray-- from the bed and bedding to the wallpaper, the paintings, the books and the bookcase that holds them, even the plant. The viewer then comes upon a mirror in which she sees herself, a startling splash of color, an intruder in this vintage world. Fun show.

On view through June 21st at RARE

Take your time

2008-05-17T11:37:00.010-04:00

Take your time, an exhibition of Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson’s works is presently on view at MoMA and P.S.1.

The works reminded me of the Spencer Finch show at MASS MoCA that I saw earlier this year. Both artists are interested in space, light, nature, and research as a means to artmaking. But, unlike Finch, who's experiental studies are obsessive recreations of natural phenomena, Eliasson is interested not in replicating but in interfering with the way in which we experience space and light.

Some projects, such as Negative quasi brick wall, a wall filled with mirrors stacked for a kaleidoscopic effect, come across as simply special effects—superficially dazzling, but in the end, vapid, empty.

And, indeed, the artist does have an affection for special effects, for almost filmic illusions played out not on film, but right in front of the viewer. But, Eliasson’s most successful installations are magical. Your strange certainty kept still appears to have stopped time—a scrim of precipitation seems to be frozen in mid air. I walked into Room for one colour, a vacant room with an odd light, and then, I watched amazed as the person who walked by me looked as though he were in black and white. I looked down at my own arm and found that I too, had been transformed into a monochrome heroine, a character from Pleasantville.

And yet, the magic is not lost, even when we learn the trick. In each of his installations, Eliasson reveals the lights and motors and parts that make it function. Reversed Waterfall, on view at PS 1, is a mess of scaffolding and pipes and pumps that sends water streaming upward. Beauty is rainbow in a darkened room, created simply with mist and light. This exposure, like many of the effects themselves, is also reminiscent of early film. We can watch George Méliès, the "Cinemagician's" works now, and know how the simple, yet innovative effects were done, and still feel charmed, even awed. Charming too, are Eliasson's often low tech magic tricks. They are more mesmerizing than any summer blockbuster's CGI. Take your time and enjoy.

Pictured are Olafur Eliasson's Your strange certainty kept still and Beauty.