Project for Art Accessibility - Proposal

While all art historians aim to continuously engage with the visual world, I have a particularly strong awareness of my reliance on vision as an art historian because of a serious genetic retinal degenerative disease that runs in my family. Growing up with a visually impaired mother who is also an activist for disability rights, I have always been aware of the struggles and limitations that people with disabilities face on a daily basis. In the last few years as I have laid the foundation for my career in art history, I have become increasingly aware of the utter inaccessibility of the art world to the visually impaired. While specific branches of law are responsible for the progression of disability rights, the process of accessibility reform is slow and seems to be far removed from the art community. I feel that steps need to be taken to create awareness in the art community about the serious accessibility problems our field faces as a series of practices that revolve entirely around vision.
As an extra-curricular project I have taken on the task of documenting the effectiveness of the accommodations for the visually impaired at the most prominent art-related American institutions. I believe strongly in collaboration and discussion as the foundation of successful pedagogical method, and therefore feel that as an educator, art historian, and someone with ties to the visually impaired community, I have a responsibility to help make the art historical conversation more accessible. My goal is to produce an in-depth study and comparison of the disability accommodations in the U.S., specifically contrasting my results with many of the prominent institutions in Europe. This study could eventually contribute to the designing of a standardized format that would apply across museums and other exhibits to ensure access to everyone. The project has two goals: The first is to compile comprehensive data on the current state of art accessibility to the visually impaired in the U.S. The second is to demonstrate feasible solutions to accessibility problems by holding a local exhibition that features multi-sensory art objects. In the last few decades art practices that revolve around tactile, auditory, and phenomenological elements have found their way into the art historical canon; however, they are mainly revered for their conceptual value, as opposed to their inclusive significance. Creating an exhibition that demonstrates the diverse methods employed by contemporary artists to branch out of the visual realm and utilizes feasible curatorial methods to ensure accessibility would help set a precedent for accessibility reform in American art institutions. It would also send an important message to the visually impaired community that engagement with art objects is not limited to the sighted. It is a common assumption that the visual nature of art as it has existed for centuries necessarily excludes this segment of the population. With the development of new technologies and the recent history of new media art, this is no longer the case.

Some Advice for Art Viewing from David Bowie

Ed Ruscha, Every Building on the Sunset Strip, 1965

Umberto Boccioni, The Unique Forms of
Continuity in Space, 1913

"My three-year-old daughter could make that."


"I don't understand modern art."


"I thought the point of art was to be beautiful."


"I don't get it."


Laughter. Fear. Despair. Disinterest. Boredom. Panic. These are all reactions one can witness while observing a crowd of visitors in the modern or contemporary gallery of a museum. If we fear what we don't understand, why wouldn't the sight of conceptual art piece cause sheer panic? If we calm discomfort with laughter why wouldn't a modern abstract painting cause a viewer to crack-up? This introduction is not meant to sound snobbish, or to proclaim that art can only be appreciated by those who do "get it." However, the basic misapprehension that art is only about beauty leads to the conclusion that if you don't think its beautiful its not good art. This can definitely be problematic. So what are you supposed to do then as a casual museum goer, part-time art enthusiast, or someone who gets dragged by a loved-one into a completely foreign section of the museum against her will? Here are some tips to make your dose of modern/contemporary art more palatable:


1) Read the labels.
This may sound obvious and even patronizing, but the truth is, the more unappealing a work of art looks at first glance the least likely we are to sneak up close to the wall, bend down and squint at the tiny museum label. However, it is in the cases when the first thought to pop into your head is "I don't get it" that the museum labels can be the most helpful. Some of the pieces I love the most now are ones that I completely dismissed when they first came up on the screen in my art history classes. Once you learn even just a tiny bit about the concept (if its contemporary) or the context (if its modern) about a piece, the piece completely opens up and transforms before your eyes. Even if you don't have a spiritual awakening, or even an ah-ha moment, I guarantee that with modern/contemporary art a little bit of understanding goes a LONG way. Once you get into that habit, it becomes a lot easier to see why art isn't only about beauty.


2) Pay attention to names and dates.
Even without having taken an introductory to art history class in the last 20 years, chances are, if you're in a museum, you already know at least a little something about art. Just because you don't recognize the artist's name once you do read the label on whatever profane, offensive, or obtuse work of art you are examining, doesn't mean you're done for. Looking at the date of a piece, and the nationality of the artist can give you some clues about context when the label is lacking in specifics. While its not always safe to assume an artist belongs to a movement based on aesthetic similarity, when you are simply trying to fill in the blanks for yourself, associations can go a long way. While I would never recommend going on aesthetic similarity alone, adding nationality and/or dates in there too could possibly help when no outside source of additional information is available. Another aspect to take into consideration is the other works in the room. Is there another piece nearby that you do know something about, or another artist that could possibly be related thematically or historically? Curators don't just place works on the walls haphazardly. A lot of time and effort goes into creating gallery spaces that maximize the amount of information available to the viewer, and optimize their viewing experience. Trust the curators--look for the connections!


3) Trust your instincts.
Art is not autonomous. You do not have to know exactly how performance art works as a medium to figure out that its political. If you lived through the 60's, or know anything about the political climate of the decade, you can figure out the meaning of Yoko Ono's Cut Piece with only the help of your own historical knowledge/experience and visual analysis.


4) Ask yourself questions.
It may seem strange at first that Ed Ruscha wanted to photograph Every Building on the Sunset Strip, but ask yourself, "What usually makes me want to photograph something?" "Why is this different?" "Why could he possibly want to photograph every building?" Even without answers to these questions, by asking them you're already on the right track to "getting it."


5) Turn and face the strange.
Don't let a lack of background knowledge keep you from enjoying modern/contemporary art. You have the tools and the skills to "get it" on your own, and furthermore, museums often have even more available to help you. You don't have to buy the $100 exhibition catalogue to read the introduction in the bookshop, or the introductory text on the wall of the gallery for that matter. But the number one thing you must always bring to the museum if you want to move beyond the intial questions that start off this post is an open mind!

Laws of Chance and Alternative Agencies

Robert Rauschenberg and John Cage, Automobile Tire Print

Robert Rauschenberg, First Time Piece

Robert Rauschenberg, White Paintings

Robert Rauschenberg, Untitled Red Painting

Robert Rauschenberg, Untitled Black Painting

As I discovered a few weeks into my research last quarter for one of my seminar papers, not a lot has been written on chance, unless it is reference to the historical avant-garde movements of Dada or Surrealism. There is also plenty of scholarship to be found on chance in relation to the composer John Cage (who was inspired by a number of sources, the historical avant-garde movements that used chance among them); however, most of the scholarship out there that addresses chance in artisitc practice falls into one of these two camps. If not, it at least mentions the direct influence of one of these two sources.
Because of its role in the historical avant-garde movements mentioned above, the inclusion of chance as an artistic strategy is almost always considered to be a commentary on artistic agency. The artist must remove or alter the role of her own creative subjectivity by submitting the results of the artistic project to the agency of chance. Whether in the form of the natural deterioration, or gravity, for example, chance taking a part, big or small, in the production of an artistic image is seen to undermine traditional notions of the artist as subject.
This is the current understanding of how chance operated for artists associated with the Dada movement like Hans Arp. In his Collage with Squares Arranged According to the Laws of Chance, the artist collaborated with an alternative agency--that of gravity--to produce a collage by dropping squares and fastening them where they ended up falling.
So what does Rauschenberg have to do with all this?
In both the contemporary scholarship on Rauschenberg and his early reception, the haphazard nature of his 'combine' paintings is usually defined by chance or randomness. As Rosalind Krauss recounts, “[l]eaving things ‘open’ has been Rauschenberg’s most frequently used expression in describing his artistic stance; whatever happens, he must always conspire to leave the situation open, so that, like [André] Breton, he will be surprised.” In describing openness Krauss feels she needs to distinguish this sense of openness from chance. This move is understandable, since within art discourse “chance” is a loaded term. Both the current scholarship that addresses chance as a tool for artistic practice during the post-war period, and the contemporary reception of Rauschenberg’s work make the mistake of associating Rauschenberg’s interest in chance with the systems developed by Marcel Duchamp and Dadaists, the historical avant-garde movement with which Rauschenberg is most often associated. It would be just as easy to assume that the significance of chance and accident in Rauschenberg’s work stems from the artist’s association with the composer John Cage. However, Rauschenberg makes clear that he does not subscribe to any kind of system of chance, as it was understood by the Dadaists or John Cage. Rauschenberg is quoted explaining,
"I was interested in many of John Cage’s chance operations and I liked the sense of experimentation he is involved in, but painting is just a different ground for activities. I could never figure out an interesting way to use any kind of programmed activity—and even though chance deals with the unexpected and unplanned, it sill has to be organized. Working with chance, I would end up with something that was quite geometric: I felt as though I were carrying out an idea rather than witnessing an unknown idea taking shape."
Chance stands for a system, especially within the context established by the Dadaists. It is precisely this notion of a planned and executed system that Rauschenberg tried to avoid, as it would imply the traditional process of “carrying out an idea” to which he set his own practice in opposition.
Understanding chance as something other than a system used to alter the nature of the creative agency producing the art work is where contemporary scholarship lacks. Plenty of artists did use it as a system in the post-war period--Ellsworth Kelly is one example. But considering chance only in relation to the historical avant-garde's use of it as a system leaves artists like Rauschenberg in the dark.

If you are interested in reading more about Rauschenberg's particular attitude towards chance I'd be happy to send you a copy of my paper--I'd love feedback on it. Even though its been turned in and returned already I'm still interested in developing the ideas.

(Con)temporary Discomfort: the Plight of the Public

Robert Morris, Untitled Installation in the Green Gallery, New York, 1964

Cy Twombly, Four Seasons: Autumn, 1993-5

"...[M]y notion of the public is functional. The word 'public' for me does not designate any particular people; it refers to a role played by people, or to a role into which people are thrust or forced by a give experience. And only those who are beyond experience should be exempt of belonging to the public. As to the 'plight'--here I mean simply the shock of discomfort, or the bewilderment or the anger or the boredom which some people always feel, and all people sometimes people, when confronted with an unfamiliar new style."
--Leo Steinberg, "Contemporary Art and the Plight of its Public"

"The onlooker who says his child could paint a Newman may be right, but Newman would have to be there to tell the child exactly what to do." --Clement Greenberg, "After Abstract Expressionism"


These two quotes might not seem directly related at first, but to me they sum up exactly the reasons why contemporary art will always be the most fascinating period of art history. Not necessarily because the content of post-modernism is somehow always better, but because of the precise relation between us as viewers and the art is different than with any other field. The shock, boredom, bewilderment of the first encounter with the new is precisely what gives it that special, differentiating quality. In Leo Steinberg's essay he talks about his first encounter with Jasper John's work, and how he was initially struck with the particular kind of bewilderment he describes as belonging to the public. What could it have possibly been like to see Johns' work or Rauschenberg's for the first time after years of abstract expressionism dominating the American art market? Similar to what it might have been like to see Matisse's Joy of Life for the first time after impressionism, his argument goes. What I loved about Steinberg's essay is that it gives a definition to the fascination I've had with contemporary art since I was first introduced to it in Anne Wagner's new media course as an undergraduate. I have had a number of conversations with people about why studying contemporary art is so different than modern or really any other period. They are almost like two different disciplines. This is not to say I haven't valued all the effort I've put into studying modern art lately--on the contrary, it is extremely necessary and useful in order to fully grasp the significance of contemporary changes and trends. But when the historical context of a work is your own historical context as well, the difference is huge. This is what I believe to be the cause of the plight of Steinberg's public. But like Steinbeg, I also believe this plight to be something positive. "Contemporary art is constantly inviting us to applaud the destruction of values which we still cherish, while the positive cause, for the sake of which the sacrifices are made, is rarely made clear. So that the sacrifices appear as acts of demolition, or of dismantling, without any motive--just as Courbet's work appeared to Baudelaire to be simply a revolutionary gesture for its own sake." I would modify this sentence slightly by saying that it applies to [GOOD] contemporary art. What could be better than seeing your values slashed to pieces by an art object, only to slowly come to terms with why those values need to be modified in order to move forward? We see this time and time again. I could think of dozens of examples that would further support Steinberg's argument. Michael Fried's Art and Objecthood essay for example, in which he dismisses minimalist art work as theatrical. That essay could be a case study of an art critic experiencing precisely what Steinberg discusses. Fried is the public, and minimalist art is the cause of his plight. The viewer described by Greenberg is another example of a public according to Steinberg. The distrust of contemporary art that frequently gets translated as "my kid could do that,"--that phrase contemporary (and even Modern) art enthusiasts must constantly battle--is another form of the public's plight in Steinbergian terms. How do you respond to that question? I usually start with "Well, that's how you know it must be good. Because despite that fact, here it is, on the Museum wall. It must have some serious historical and conceptual weight to end up here instead of on your refrigerator door."

Assemblage--old and new

Raoul Hausmann, Mechanical Head (Spirit of Our Age)

Raoul Hausmann, ABCD, 1923-1924

Robert Rauschenberg, Charlene, 1954

Robert Rauschenberg, Monogram, 1955-59

Dan Peterman, Villa Deponie, 2002 (source)

Rob Fischer, Mirrored Boat (Disappearing Boat), 1998 (source)

Mark Dion, New England Digs Project, 2001

Rob Fischer, Mirrored House on Water, 2007 (source)

I've been looking through Art in America articles from the early 1960's, in order to see if the writers attempt to come to terms with the supposed transition between the modern and contemporary periods. In comparing Johns and Rauschenberg to the abstract expressionists (only since they came right before) it can appear to me as if their practices came out of nowhere--this is why the concept of transition interested me. But Tom Crow's text from Modern Art in the Common Culture reminded me that while the practices of these two artists may seem drastically different in response to abstract expressionism, they are making use of techniques that had been around since the European avant-garde--namely, assemblage and the recycling of mass-produced images. That is why they are called Neo-Dada after all.
My original question of "where did this come from" seems to be echoed in a lot of the articles I've read in Art in America. Within pages and pages of abstract expressionist paintings there are brief mentions of this new practice of assemblage attributed to Rauschenberg and Johns, citing their work from the mid-late 50's. They don't exactly seem to agree with Greenberg's final paragraph in "after abstract expressionism" but they do approach it as if it were something quite alien in my opinion. Some interesting concepts that I keep coming across are that "now art can be anything (now being 1960)," and that as of 1960 American art was "moving back towards order" which was also stated to be a reflection of the political climate and American sentiment. I see this as a possible starting point for a project that involves looking at the aftermath of the rise of the American art market with abstract expressionism and its relationship to the kind of anxiety Rauschenberg and Johns were creating. I think focusing on Rauschenberg's early work might be a way to do this, though I am hesitant to work on such a "big name." I would be interested in looking at his work in terms of his role in a transition, but this would just be the starting point.
This is brings me to the concept of assemblage and how it has changed over time. While it may have begun within the European avant-garde, it was taken to an entirely different level with pop art. Now, it might seem silly to even bring up the topic of assemblage, since, as was discussed in a previous post, "new media" art supposedly allows for anything. The newness of mixed-media has certainly expired (good, because I hate that word, its so vague). However, with this post I make the proposition that the specific lineage of assemblage art has in fact been carried on in the contemporary period within the category of green art. The very fact of recycling materials taking center stage in some artists' practices is an entirely new motivation for an old concept--that of assemblage. The "everyday object" now has a very urgent and specific message.

Exhibition Review of THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS: collage and works on paper by Marvin Astorga

At No Coast Collective yesterday evening, young Chicago residents gathered on a Pilsen corner to experience the vivaciously unique aesthetic world of Marvin Astorga's glossy magazine page collages and witty small scale illustrations. Astorga's smart combinations and master of scale provide endless opportunities to investigate all of small corners of his constructions, which vary in size and intricacy. The large scale installation work that covered the entirety of one of the main gallery walls was consistently occupied by viewers getting lost in its simultaneous intensity and soothing symmetry. When asked about how the artist was able to accomplish the astoundingly precise balance while still compiling hundreds of different images into the complex constructions, he commented, "I just sort of have an eye for leveling things--like hanging up pictures etc." In learning that the large wall collage was constructed free-hand, it becomes all the more impressive.
There is no question that what can be said to most easily characterize Astorga's pieces on view is a sharp wit towards the practice of juxtaposition and a painstakingly precise eye for aesthetics. While his more intricate and complex pieces can occupy the viewer for a long time while he/she attempts to navigate its depths, the more simple juxtaposition pieces also possess a biting creativity and attitude. Among my favorite pieces in the show was "Stars and Stripes", a re-presentation of the flag using pic-nic tablecloth print and a view of outer-space. The high quality printing of the images made the colors vibrant and the wit of the piece all the more striking.
Astorga also commented on the camera's inability to capture the intricacy of the pieces, a problem I myself was having while trying to document the show. He believes it to largely be an issue of scale and color that the cameras just can't record correctly. The photographs posted here certainly don't do the artwork justice. All the more reason to go check out his show for yourself. It will be up at No Coast through May 7th, with a closing reception and performance from 5-7.

5 Museum Visits that Changed my LIfe: A Personal Post

#5 First Visit to Metropolitan Museum, 1992

Pablo Picasso, Woman Playing Mandolin

Georges Braque, Le Jour, 1929

#4 the Centre Pompidou after Anne Wagner's New Media course, 2006

Donald Judd

Man Ray, Self Portrait


#3 First and Only Tate Modern Visit, 5th Floor 2007

Roy Lichtenstein, Whaam!

Robert Rauschenberg, Almanac, 1962

Andy Warhol, Skulls (source)

#2 Over-sized Canvas Room in the Louvre After Darcy Grigsby's Neoclassicism/French Revolutionary Art Course, 2006

Jacques-Louis David, The Lictors Returning to Brutus the Bodies of His Sons

Théodore Géricault, Raft of the Medusa

Jacques-Louis David, Rape of the Sabine Women


#1 SFMOMA 2003 Gerhard Richter Retrospective

Mustang-Staffel (Mustang Squadron)

Reading

48 Portraits

#5 My first visit to the Met at age 6, after my first exposure to art history in a series of after school courses called "Paint like Picasso" and "Paint like Monet." I will never live down correcting my mom in the cubism gallery.

#4 First time at the Centre Pompidou after Anne Wagner's New Media course. I had been to the Pompidou before in 2002, but at that point I was more interested in post-impressionism so I spent more time in the Orsay. During the spring of 2006 I was in Paris for a very short time over spring break and spent 4 hours in the Pompidou's permanent collection galleries. They arrange their works by theme as opposed to solely chronology or schools. It is a totally different way to view art. Needless to say, it was a life changing event since I was in the midst of my first exposure to contemporary art in Wagner's class.

#3 First and only visit to the Tate Modern. I was in London for 3 days in 2007 after my semester abroad in Italy, and spent an entire afternoon walking through the Tate galleries alone. I could not believe the collection at the Tate modern, especially the 5th floor. Their Andy Warhol collection is outstanding.

#2 Over-sized canvases at the Louvre after Darcy Grigsby's Neoclassical Course. This was my first serious art history course as a freshman, and it was what made me decide to become an art history major. There was one specific moment in her lecture on David's Rape of the Sabine Women that was so compelling, I felt something literally "click" in my brain and I knew art history was the only option for me. I'm such an art nerd that every time I think about this moment it I can still feel that same emotion.

#1 Gerhard Richter's Retrospective at the SFMOMA in 2003. I was a high school student, and took a field trip with my drawing/painting art practice course to see this exhibit. My first exposure to Richter was so powerful that it stayed with me throughout high school and into my undergraduate studies. I ended up writing my undergraduate thesis on Richter after studying him with Wagner in New Media and her Appropriation seminar.

P.S. Two Contemporary Artists I Couldn't Live Without

Larry Sultan, Conversation through Kitchen Window, 1992

Larry Sultan, Dad on Bed, 1985

Larry Sultan Mom Posing by Green Wall and Dad Watching TV (1984)

Nam June Paik, Piano Piece, 1993

Nam June Paik, Buddha game 1991.
Collection of the Art Gallery of New South Wales

Nam June Paik, TV Buddha (1974)

Electronic Superhighway (1995) by Nam June Paik.
Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Consider this a postscript to the previous post. It is simply and homage to two contemporary artists that...yes, I couldn't live without. It is very unprofessional of me to show you these images and just say "look how GREAT this art is!" but honestly, I think these artworks speak for themselves.

What Ever Happened to Medium Specificity? Problems with 'New Media' and What to Do with Contemporary Art Categorization

Jeff Koons, Three Ball Total Equilibrium Tank, 1985, Basketballs, sodium chloride reagent in distilled water. MCA.

Ashley Bickerton, Wetlandscape #2, 1990. Anodized aluminum, steel, glass, wood, leather, sand, rocks, and decomposed seaweed. MCA.

Adrian Piper, Out of the Corner, 1990 (installation view, Full House, Whitney Museum of American Art, 2006). Sixty-four gelatin silver prints, table, sixteen chairs, pedestals, specified lighting, seventeen monitors, seventeen DVD players, and seventeen DVDs, color, sound; 26 minutes each (originally shown on 3/4-inch videotape).

Dan Flavin, Untitled (for Robert, with fond regards), 1977. Pink, yellow, and red fluorescent lights. Whitney Museum.

Nam June Paik, Magnet TV, 1965. 17-inch black-and-white television set with magnet. Whitney Museum.

Robert Gober, Untitled, 1991. Wax, cloth, wood, leather, and human hair. Whitney Museum.

Within the discourse of contemporary art history, there is a tendency to refer to “new media” art. This vague term is a symptom of a problem that stems from the need to classify works of art. Until the mid-twentieth century, whenever an artist produced a work, it necessarily came into dialogue with a specific tradition of the medium in which it was produced. What this selection of images aims to highlight is how art in the last 50 years has progressed in a new direction, namely, one that often refuses clear and direct classification. That is not to say that classification is not possible. Most of these works could be or are considered "installations," which is another vague term that attempts to put works of extreme variation into one category based on their method of exhibition. There has been a drastic turn away from specific media traditions that has occurred in post-modern art with the centralization of the concept as the vehicle for artistic creation. This sometimes can lead to a kind of confusion that causes all contemporary art to be considered "new media" unless it is directly in dialogue with a traditional media. It is easier to call a Sol LeWitt wall drawing a drawing than it is to call Matta-Clark's Splitting a sculpture or installation. That's were "new media" terms like "site-specific" come into play. But while these terms can help us make more contemporary and relevant categories for works that purposefully exceed boundaries, they don't necessary solve the problem. And then there is McLuhan on the subject, who says that all media are "new" at some point. Is it really the media that are new, in the case of new media? I personally do not believe so. Instead, it is a different tradition of art making that we are witnessing develop. Again, I say different, not necessarily new.