What do Abramovic and Banksy have in common?

One of the artists is famously present, the other famously absent.

In some respects they make an unlikely pair and the coverage in national media this week of their respective activities is a coincidence—isn’t it? 

The Artist is Present, MoMA

Marina Abramovic became famous by staging ephemeral and often controversial performances—some of which involved self-mutilation. Now she has leveraged her fame to build a physical institution, a monument devoted to performance art. Some are crying foul; others can’t wait for the 33,000 square foot Marina Abramovic Institute to open in Hudson, NY, so that they can pay to “put on white lab coats and undergo three hours of mind-and-body cleansing exercises.” That is according an article that appeared in last Sunday’s New York Times.

The article quotes Abramovic as saying “Ego is a huge obstacle to art.” It seems a curious if not contradictory turn of phrase under the circumstances.

Banksy has become famous—some say notorious—by painting and stenciling his distinctive brand of graffiti in unauthorized locations all over the world. I use the term “brand” deliberately. While his work has become commercially valuable, his identity remains elusive. Currently Banksy is spending a month operating, publicly if not visibly, in New York City. He himself (on a website) refers to it as an “artist’s residency.”

But now “banksy” has become a verb, his graffiti sought after and reviled in nearly equal measures, and some of the anonymous artist’s works have sold for six figure sums at auction.

NPR aired an interview yesterday with a Brooklyn resident whose building was “banksied.” The family has struggled with ethical as well as financial consequences. The graffiti first drew a large and appreciative crowd. Then someone spray-painted over the stencils, which the family cleaned off promptly and successfully. After that they installed a garage door over the illicit, but potentially lucrative art that had been dropped in their laps. What’s a victim to do these days?

An appreciative crowd gathers at a "Banksied" site in Chelsea

Cash in is one of the options that the beneficiaries of Banksies artistic attentions have chosen. But what happens to street art after it has been commodified? Banksy himself addresses this issue in ambiguous ways. A story aired on NPR Oct. 14 quotes him as saying, "I know street art can feel increasingly like the marketing wing of an art career, so I wanted to make some art without the price tag attached. There's no gallery show or book or film. It's pointless. Which hopefully means something."

And was it a snub of the commercial art establishment—even the very people who purchased one of his limited edition prints for $249,000—when he (anonymously, of course) set up a sidewalk kiosk in Central Park with prints priced at $60 each. The artist’s total take for the one day sale was $420. Who got taken, I wonder?

Maybe Abramovic and Banksy have more in common than it seems at first glance. Why shouldn’t they take advantage of opportunities to leverage popularity or notoriety for financial gain? Or do they, each in their own fashion, seem to want it both ways? If ego is in fact an obstacle to art, it certainly isn’t an obstacle to commercial success.

Can either performance art or street art survive commodification? Many critics are asking. The answer is elusive.

Links:

NY Times – Abramovic: For her next piece, a performance artist will build an institute.

NPR – Banksy: Getting ‘Banksied’ comes with a price – and maybe a paycheck

Art Without Reservation in Santa Fe

I made it to the Museum of Contemporary Native Arts on my last day in Santa Fe. It's one of my favorites of a number of good museums here and I try to see the current exhibitions whenever I'm in town. I have examples of two current exhibits to share.

In the main gallery is Changing Hands: Art Without Reservation 3, the concluding exhibit of a cycle that was "conceived and organized to present a comprehensive and in-depth cross section of innovative and groundbreaking work by contemporary Indigenous artists." The exhibition catalogue goes on to say, "These creative individuals express a new vitality and spirit of experimentation in Native art, often embracing tradition while moving forward and looking towards the future." For a more thorough description go to Changing Hands: Art Without Reservation 3/Contemporary Native North American Art from the Northeast and Southeast, Selected Works.

A

Jordan Bennett, Re:Appropriating the Wheel

Peter B. Jones, Portrait Jar-New Indian

Kent Monkman, Dreamcatcher Bra & Raccoon Jockstrap

Another compelling exhibit is called STEREOTYPE: Misconceptions of the Native American. In it Cannupa Hanska Luger uses the motif of the boom box to examine and deconstruct stereotypes imposed on indigenous Americans. For more about it, click here.

The Indian Princess

The text explains in detail that there is no such thing as an "Indian Princess" since the concept of princess is Western in origin.

The Plastic Shaman

Similar to the above, the term "shaman," which originated in Central Asia, has been inappropriately applied to Native American culture.

The Curtis

This last one, of course, refers to Edward Curtis, the photographer who set out to "document" the passing of the "noble savage" before they were all gone.

Finally, the image below is one of a pair by Debra Yepa-Pappin that were hung in the hallway and identified as "recent acquisitions." The title is "Live Long and Prosper (Spock was a Half Breed).

The White Place

For the past week I have been staying, teaching photography, and relaxing at one of my favorite places: Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, NM. Ghost Ranch is a retreat/education/conference center owned by the Presbyterian Church but is most famous as the place where Georgia O'Keeffe lived and painted many of her striking New Mexican work. One of her subjects was this unusually pale sandstone slot canyon in Abiquiu. The gray stone can look white in the bright New Mexican sun, hence the name. The site is owned by Dar al Islam, a mosque and Islamic Education Center.

I've been in the mood to write haiku here in New Mexico, a land of contrasts and, for me, introspection. Here is the one I wrote for the White Place:

the White Place

a monk in saffron robes

raises an ipad

I am teaching a workshop in digital photography at Ghost Ranch and I took my class to the White Place for a photo shoot. As our group gathered back at the parking area after a couple hours of shooting, I saw this monk walk slowly up to the mound with the “Plaza Blanca” sign on it overlooking the site. As I watched he slowly drew an ipad out of his robes and began to raise it with both hands. Knowing the capabilities of an ipad it was obvious that he was about to shoot a photograph. However, it reminded me of a priest raising a host, or a supplicant seeking absolution, or simple praise; something sacred and holy, as befits both the symbolism of his robes and the grandeur of the site. 

The well-known form of Haiku originated in Japan and is a very short, traditionally three-line, poem. In current practice the form is flexible. The essential quality of haiku is usually a small epiphany based on the observation of two contrasting images. I was inspired by the juxtaposition of the monk’s traditional garb with the latest technology—even if upon second thought, it ought to be considered perfectly normal in today’s polyglot society. 

I had put my camera in my bag when I saw the monk raise the ipad. I would have liked to catch a shot of him raising it. Alas, that was not to be. I did introduce myself and ask if I could make a photo of him, a request to which he acceded with humility. He said his name but it was so multi-syllabic and foreign to my ears that mind unfortunately would not grasp onto it.

 

A poetry contest advertised on Craig's List?

There was a lovely little story in the New York Times yesterday about an odd poetry contest advertised on Craig's list. The story and the poem below, which I like a lot because I can relate to it, were both written by Esther Cohen.

And now, at this point
insane moment of age and longing
cusp and pinnacle
when my arms are different arms
when my dreams are always interrupted
longing becomes more than longing
I can no longer do this
or that as much as I still want to
I wake up wondering how
I no longer care so much about why
when a day is not just a day but right now.

To read the story go to NY Times. 

Villa Terrace exhibits Afghan war rugs

On the wall in the narrow, arched second floor corridor of Villa Terrace Decorative Arts Museum two rugs hang side by side. At a glance the similarities are more noticeable than the differences. Three groupings of large figures run vertically down the center of a space bounded by a precisely framed and detailed border design. The rug on the left is darker overall and more earthy in coloration, while the one on the right has a brighter, light tan background. This, combined with a simpler background design makes the figures on the right pop out more emphatically. The overall composition is the same, however, and the shapes and clothing styles of the central figures are nearly identical.

They are beautiful as well as exquisitely crafted, made with hand-spun and dyed, tightly knotted wool. Admirable for their utility as well as the quality of design and workmanship, a superficial appreciation might accrue to a cursory inspection. “Nice colors,” I overheard a visitor say in passing at the exhibit opening last night.

If your examination of these two remarkable rugs ended there you would miss what is arguably the most important feature of the rugs and a telling if visually subtle contrast between the two. The figures on the left hold guitars and other musical instruments, while those on the right grip assault rifles, rocket launchers, and other weapons. Furthermore, in the background on the left are stylized flowers, birds and other animals. The right includes clearly articulated tanks and warplanes.

The exhibit is called “Afghan war rugs: the modern art of central asia.” It will be on display at Villa Terrace through January 6, 2014. The rugs vary in size. Some are no larger than a small doormat; others hang floor to ceiling. Most are figurative and contain graphic depictions of modern weapons and warfare, as suggested in the title.

For anyone familiar with the typical rugs of central Asia, reactions to these are likely to include surprise if not shock. Many are far less subtle than the ones described above. In a room nearby, for example, is one that could easily elicit a strong emotional reaction. The top half depicts the New York skyline. The twin towers of the World Trade Center stand tall against a serenely blue sky. That sky also contains a single jet airliner flying directly towards the nearer tower. In the bottom half are a precisely detailed helicopter, an M1 Abrams tank, a soldier with upraised assault rifle, a surface-to-air rocket launcher, and several warplanes. These all overlie a map of Afghanistan. Dividing the two panels is a black band containing the words “waragainst-terrorist.” The parallel design leaves little room for interpretation of the bold pronouncement.

Most of the rugs in the exhibit are fairly recent creations, the oldest ones having been made in the 1970s. Seeing modern weaponry, depictions of contemporary cityscapes, as well as obvious references to 9/11 and the familiar war in Afghanistan, it is tempting to conclude that the grim subject matter is a recent development and a reaction to the country’s wars with first Russia and then the United States. Indeed, the wall texts and the essays in an accompanying brochure examine the history of these and other conflicts and include descriptions of specific weaponry employed by the various parties involved. Many of these weapons are depicted with great accuracy in the rugs.

However, at least one of the wall panels explained that the presence of weapons and the war-related imagery in Afghanistan’s artistic output predates recent events and is attributable to a more general belligerence based on tribal culture. “The long-standing martial traditions of the Pashtun (ethnic Afghans) guaranteed their social importance. Weapons were awarded upon puberty, and were a central decorative element with a powerful aesthetic charge for men and their homes….”

This exhibit of Afghan war rugs is not only well worth a visit. I believe it presents a truly unique body of work that combines idiosyncratic themes, ethnographic depth, and aesthetic quality. Villa Terrace is the premier venue for this exhibit in the United States. Milwaukeeans are lucky to have the opportunity to see it.

For more information go to Villa Terrace.

The High Line: An Abstract Nature

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The High Line is New York City’s phenomenally popular urban park built atop the remains of a former elevated rail structure. Designed collaboratively by James Corner Field Operations, Diller Scofidio + Renfro, and Piet Oudolf, the park runs through a 1.45 mile section of the Chelsea neighborhood on Manhattan’s West Side. Twenty-five years elapsed between the time trains stopped running on the High Line and it was first considered for redevelopment as a uniquely innovative park. During that time a feral urban wilderness seeded itself and grew on the structure. That wild character inspired the creation of the park.

Introducing The High Line: An Abstract Nature, my most recent project—still in progress. An extension of my previous series, called Synecdoche: the fragment that represents the whole, the new project applies the concepts and issues of that series to the specificity of this place.

Synecdoche is a literary term that means the part that represents the whole. The images in the series metaphorically express the fragmentation we experience in our complex, often paradoxical, relationships between nature and the built environment; they challenge definitions of nature in a time when nature often is reduced, manufactured and abstracted. The images come from diverse locations to emphasize the increasing universality of this phenomenon. (To see selections from my Synecdoche portfolio, click here.)

The High Line: An Abstract Nature is a photographic study of the park, which, although inspired by feral nature, is as carefully designed and maintained as a botanical garden. The rigorous design of its natural features and its popularity as a tourist destination combine with its urban setting to create an unprecedented urban park experience. It is a park where nature has been introduced into a totally manufactured environment that is dominated by the presence of people.

Let’s be clear about two things: First, like so many others, I love the High Line. Second, although it was inspired by the feral kind of nature that grew on the abandoned line, now that it’s a park it can no longer be considered anything like an urban wilderness. I’ve often stretched that concept, which is meant to be a thought-provoking paradox. But trying to wrap it around the High Line would eviscerate all meaning from the "wilderness" end of its conceptual spectrum. No matter. The High Line is another sort of experience of nature and, as I see it, a more abstract one. Hence the title of this series.

To see more images from The High Line: An Abstract Nature, click here.

Artists talk about Chicago Project on Edelman Gallery website

I brought my two prints home from recently from The Chicago Project V exhibit that has been on display at the Catherine Edelman Gallery since early July. However, the exhibit lives on in the words of the artists (including mine) on the gallery website. Each of the nine artists included in the exhibit were interviewed for a feature called Artist Talk.

The purpose of Artist Talk, according to the website, is to further the understanding of "the creative process through the words of the photographer. We hope collectors, curators and the general public will gain a better understanding about each piece on exhibit and the artist in general."

Before the interview we were prepped to include some biographical information, who influenced our work and/or other photographers we admire, and then to describe the prints on display in some detail. If you listen to my video you will note that I adhere pretty much to this pattern. The two prints that represent me in the exhibit are from my Synecdoche Series (and, yes, I explain that odd term in the video!) You can hear just my interview, or any of the other individual photographers, by clicking here and then clicking on the small video link to the right of my name under my two prints.

To listen to all of the interviews in a sequence, you can click here and then click on the link to "The Chicago Project V," (which is currently right on top.)

To read my previous post about the The Chicago Project V exhibit, click here.

My Synecdoche Series has been complete enough to have been exhibited twice now in solo shows. However, wherever I travel I continue to find subjects that are consistent with its theme of symbolizing the fragments of nature that represent the whole. Sometimes they even push the concept in a new direction. I recently returned from a vacation trip to Cape Ann, north of Boston. A familiar landmark there is the twin lighthouses on Thatcher Island, the kind of place where our species has been testing its relationship with the natural world for a very long time.

Fortuitously, I was there when the moon was full.

You can also see more from the Synecdoche Series on my website.