from-our-boxes

[from-our-boxes]

Exhibition Review: Julie Mehretu

by Ahnali Tran

I was fourteen years old when I saw my first Julie Mehretu painting. I remember this moment taking place on a hot, sticky summer day in Minneapolis. It was late September and the shiny, aluminum-like shell of the Walker Art Center promised a cool retreat from the sun. The first time that I saw Transcending: The New International (2003) was in the exhibition, I Am You, You Are Too, which showcased a collection of work about geopolitical issues and democracy.I was struck by its immense size and ability to hold my attention for an incredibly long time. Situated between Wolfgang Tillman’s anti-Brexit posters and Chantal Ackerman’s From the East, the work felt like a welcoming return to drawing for a fourteen year old artist. I was mesmerized by the bold, emotive gestures that hid the delicate architectural forms. The spiraling tunnel seemed to capture the stagnant gallery air and refresh it. I found myself oscillating from inches away from the waxy canvas to the center of the room. It was at this moment that I thought to myself, “this is the work that I want to make someday.” Although I understood the work through the short provided verbiage, the chaos of the sweeping contours and contrasting gradations that danced upon the canvas’s surface demonstrated political upheaval. I conjured up an image of her revisiting the canvas over and over again after her initial layers of the skeletal lines of architectural drawing. This was the first time that a painting asked me to deem its process of making as inseparable from the meaning of its final image.

Transcending: The New International (2003).

In retrospect, I believe that I understood that Mehretu had struck a balance between the conceptual function of abstraction and the value of aesthetics to invite viewers into her work. As I made work about my own identity, it became clear that that balance would be an important and ongoing exploration in my practice. How can one’s mode of expression bolster its conceptual value? What does it mean to make work accessible for a broad audience? How does one confront social inequity in somewhere like the Walker Art Center, a notably White male-dominated institution? These questions continue to guide my work and how I think about how art confronts and exists within institutions. In early 2020, I was elated to hear that Mehretu’s mid-career retrospective was to visit the Walker Art Center. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the exhibition was postponed until fall of 2021; however, my excitement endured as I was to be a guard at the museum during the part of the exhibition’s appearance.

From October 16, 2021 through March 6, 2022, the Walker Art Center held over seventy-five of Mehretu’s paintings, prints, and drawings in the exhibition, Julie Mehretu. Her large-scale canvases filled galleries 1-3, Perlman Gallery, and smaller prints adorned the lobby of the museum. Accompanied by rich text about her processes, the themes of her work, and personal history, the exhibition showcased her work in accessible ways for viewers. The Walker Art Center was the final destination of her acclaimed mid-career retrospective. The exhibition visited the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York before arriving in Minneapolis. In the summer of 2003, the Walker Art Center debuted her first solo exhibition titled, Julie Mehretu: Drawing into Painting. Her relationship with the museum’s space is evident in the artwork’s thoughtful placement and supplemental audio components that accompany select works. Both her and a curator discuss the work, the process of creation, and how a viewer might turn to other works in the gallery for context.

I viewed the work in two ways. The first way was as a standard museum visitor who slowly sauntered around the gallery, sitting with only the works that piqued my interest to best economize my time. The second way that I viewed the artwork was a museum guard; albeit, for many more hours over the course of a month over winter break. I found that my criticism of the work shifted depending on the context that I was in; either, as the average visitor from the supplemental materials dispersed by the museum throughout publications and in-exhibition texts or from my own analysis of the work over a long period of time as a guard. Accompanied by my pre-established adoration for Mehretu’s colossal works on canvas, I was taken aback by the themes in her later work. She continued to examine the architecture of environments that are ever-changing through violence, migration, and ecological change; yet, her later work contains a dissonance in terms of clarity and palatability.

Conjured Parts (eye), Ferguson (2016)

Works like Mural (2010), a painting commissioned by Goldman Sachs in 2007, demonstrate a shift in Mehretu’s practice. What was once a pursuit of rigorous abstraction and the critique of various socio-political spaces now seems to be a vague practice that panders to the elite. To sell to a notably unethical financial institution while utilizing themes of war, violent inequality, and exploitation is to contradict one’s own work when it is to be held in the ultra-rich’s lobby. In contrast with her earlier works like Transcending: The New International (2003), it seems like her pursuit of abstraction and methods of painting outweigh her conceptual framework. Though narratives may exist within the paintings, like in Conjured Parts (eye), Ferguson (2016), they are lost within the layers of image alteration and mark-making on the canvas’s surface. Within the aforementioned painting, an image from the Ferguson riots in reaction to the murder of Michael Brown was transformed and blurred to produce the subdued colors of the painting’s background. Upon first glance, the viewer may feel welcomed to view the work over a long duration; however, without additional text, the viewer’s understanding of the subject matter is lost.

This shift in her practice left me pondering the role of transparency in subject matter in conjunction with heavy abstraction. How can one create politically relevant and striking work while still reaching a large audience? Who exactly is Mehretu’s audience? Is it the average Minnesotan family looking for a weekend outing or the anonymous employees of Goldman Sachs? Though evident in her success and ability to produce a mid-career retrospective at some of the most influential contemporary art museums in the United States, has she succeeded in marrying heavy abstraction and uncompromising political statements? Though the care and detail within the exhibition was excellent, her work left a bitter taste in the mouths of some of her previous viewers who sought the same balance within her early work. Her work therefore offers questions for artists about the relationship between art as commodity and as statement; and, how one may maintain such a balance over the span of a career.

Works Cited

“Transcending: The New International.” Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, 2003, https://walkerart.org/collections/artworks/transcending-the-new-international. Accessed 24 Mar. 2022.

Carver, Cathy. Conjured Parts (Eye), Ferguson. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Los Angeles, 2003. https://www.lacma.org/node/39182#. Accessed 24. Mar. 2022.

[from-our-boxes]

Analysis of works by Bracha Ettinger and Jenny Saville and how they use the concept of the male gaze?


by Rea Silvia Emmanouil

“The Matrix is a dimension of the human psyche, existing besides the phallic, which is needed to gain access to language and the social sphere. The Matrix is grounded in the ontologically primal female sexual difference, arising from universal intrauterine experience. This model could be imagined as a paradigm where humanity is co-created—it is a trans-subjective realm of shared aspects, which contrasts with the logic of classical psychoanalysis and its singularity of gendered subjectivity bound to symbolic castration and perpetual search for the lost objects of desire.” (Romanskaitė, Diana, 2012)

Introduction

 Jacques Lacan produced the ‘Lacanian psychoanalytic theory’, where ‘the gaze’ is a state of mind achieved through self-awareness where someone can be seen but not looked at. A person who is perceived through ‘the gaze’ has a loss of autonomy and they are now selfaware that they are seen as an object.In her book, ‘The Matrixial Gaze’, Bracha Ettinger focuses on the concept of the male gaze as described by Jacques Lacan. The idea of the ‘Matrixial gaze’ is to counter Lacan’s ‘Phallic gaze’, and challenge the idea of masculine power. The matrix is a symbolic reference to the uterus, – a symbol for female power – Saville represents the ‘rehabilitation’ of this power by taking the “powerless representation of the female nude and transformed it from an intimidated body into an assertive one”[1]. The way a female muse has been seen and viewed in art has been – for the most part – seen as a sexual object. Ettinger describes the matrix as a concept that ‘returns’ the power to the women painted and provides a new perspective on how the sexes are perceived in art.

[1] Rebecca Armstrong, “Jenny Saville: The ‘Other’ Body: Feminist Perspectives On Flesh”, 2015

Bracha Ettinger

 Through her ongoing collection, ‘Eurydice’, Ettinger suspends figures next to Eurydice (a mythological character) representing strong female characters in Ancient Greek Mythology – Persephone, Medusa, Goddess Demeter − morphing them together, connecting their stories, thus, she creates a new message that these figures represent, whether that is a new meaning of death, beauty or freedom. Ettinger explored a series of concepts to rethink and redefine the Matrixial gaze and metamorphosis, her goal being to re-paint the way we link the feminine figure and the subject. Ettinger has successfully criticised art history and its ignorance to acknowledge the repression in art, she has explained that when analysing an image through psychoanalysis, we understand the complexities of subjectivity to us”[1][2] not just to interpret what it stands for but who it was made for.

[1] Griselda Pollock, ed. Psychoanalysis and the Image: Transdisciplinary Perspective Malden, MA: Blackwell,

[2] . PG. 247

Bracha L. Ettinger, 2006-2012, oil on canvas, 50x43.5cm

Analysis of ‘The Graces, Persephone’

 In her collection ‘Eurydice’, Ettinger displays the female figure in a void, where there is no sense of time or space. Ettinger morphs figures together creating a connection between the embodiment of femininity; women, mothers and daughters and the idea that this is the only definition of femininity. Women are subjected to the two roles of ‘mother’ and ‘daughter’ particularly in ‘The Graces, Persephone’ we see the infinite movement of women stuck in the cycle between “annihilation and redemption”[1], a point of significance where she has the chance to ‘break’ from the appointed role and become her own person.   In ‘The Graces, Persephone’, Persephone is represented by Johannes Vermeer’s ‘Girl with a pearl Earring’ and is standing next to Eurydice, no longer alone on a canvas. The stream of pearl white falling down the canvas creates the nondescript figure of Eurydice which contrasts the distinct image of Persephone. The water like effect creates a layer on top of the painting, a wave-like movement is formed with thick brush strokes and contrast of the pearl white and deep purple produce a membrane covering the painting. The viewer is looking through this membrane into the void, the only light-source is the intense white on its back that highlights and draws the viewer’s attention to the face peering through the blurry image. Instead of being watched, Persephone’s eyes are fixated on the viewer, piercing through the membrane. The details have been obliterated and the consistent move of tonal register between tones of iris blue and magenta infiltrate the image of Persephone and it is by a natural association that one understands the silhouettes to be those of women again. Ettinger’s use of light could be subjective, the milky glow could either act as a spotlight or a cover. A spotlight, to fixate the viewer on the becoming of Persephone as she appears stronger the more she stares down at the viewer. Or, a cover to dim that idea of becoming and stepping into a new role and see the image as whole, notice the new figures formed in the shadows and remove the idea of isolation within a canvas. 

[1] Tina Kinsella, “'Painting the Feminine into Ontology: On the Recent Works of Bracha L. Ettinger”, Museo Leopoldo Flores/Galleria Polivalente

Jenny Saville

 Saville often explores the fragility and decay of flesh by studying operating theatres of surgeons and morticians. Her impasto style renders her nudes and representations as deformed which is usually featured through the use of lighting and highlighting each cleft and blemish on the body. Her portfolio is almost exclusively depictions of female subjects, and in her early paintings she is the primary subject. Through her exaggerated proportions Saville challenges, the conventional concept of beauty, specifically society’s aversion to obesity. By creating such large scale work Saville confronts the viewer by presenting a different perspective to the human body, fixating on the ‘imperfections’ that we need to accept.  

Analysis of ‘Propped’ 

 Saville’s Self-portrait ‘Propped’, was introduced at the international exhibition “Sensation: Young British Artists” in 1997 at the Saatchi Gallery in London. Saville displayed this painting with “a mirror hung opposite it at a distance equal to the height of the painting; this allowed the viewer to turn away from the painting and implicate themselves in the artwork.”[1]

‘Propped’ is a self-portrait that goes against definitive representations of female beauty. The depiction of beauty is deeply embedded in contemporary aesthetics and many female artists have developed ideas regarding beauty and pleasure. Jenny Saville, looks at bodies in ways that are not conventionally beautiful, but rather provoke sensations of excitement and disgust. Going against the trend of having women conceal their flaws and hide their bodies, when they are less than perfect, Saville exposes them in an almost visceral manner. ‘Propped’ is unsettling to the viewer mainly due to the exaggerated proportions, especially the extremely large knees. The knees and thighs occupy the largest part of the canvas as they are much larger than her breasts or head. The fleshy and warm hues of the body contrast the white and cooler tones of the background. The brushstrokes are seen to take up the entire painting, becoming a force of their own and accentuating each curve of the body. Even though the flesh is excessive, it is also powerful, and the simplicity of the composition allows the viewer to follow the contour lines of the body that takes on a majestic role in the work. The flesh is white, mixed with blue veins protruding from her skin and stretch marks that are visible to the viewer. The figure is overlaid with writing saying: “if we continue to speak in this sameness-speak as men have spoken for centuries, we will fail each other”. In the painting the quotes are inverted, allowing the subject to consume the words rather than the reader.

[1] Jenny Saville and a Feminist Aesthetics of Disgust Author(s): Michelle Meagher

Comparison of the Two Artists

 In ‘Propped’, the excess flesh is exposed completely through Saville’s expressive brushstrokes. Saville’s work evokes feeling of disgust, which is not a popular category of philosophical and aesthetic discourse, being placed at the opposite end of desire. Hence, her works can be understood under the context of the aesthetics of disgust. The figure claws at her flesh, portraying her own disgust for her body and her struggle to confine to beauty standards made in a patriarchal society. According to the artist, she states that her reasons for making these paintings, are not so that people can appreciate big bodies, but consider, why they find big bodies hard to look at. She reclaims female beauty from male created art that define what is beautiful and what is not in regards to the female body. Her work has feminist connotations, as well as psychoanalytical ones. She seeks to distort and alter the traditional body painted by male artists and replaces it with her own artistic language that is more truthful and represents a part of the audience. 

 Ettinger’s images in “Eurydice” are both blurred and the features are obscured, even though the outlines of the figures are clear and the viewer can see that both depict females. The fluid motion created in her painting places the viewer in a fugue state, allowing themselves to become part of the figures displayed and experience the simultaneous feeling of being a rigid person and an indistinct silhouette. She hovers in the in-between state of death and life, of appearing and disappearing, looking at women as being supportive elements of Eurydice and at the same time overlooked through the centuries of dominant patriarchy. 

Conclusion

Lacan  created the term “ ‘Fascinum’ to designate the gaze ‘inside an image’ ”[1]. Ettinger modifies this term to change the idea of the male gaze and instead focus on the exchange between a “woman girl and a mother figure (or any such a figure)”[2], this way she visually shows the idea of attraction through the gaze. Ettinger explored all these notions and used her art to convey messages of her “own non-subjective future and non-subjective pasts.”[3] This allowed to show the figures painted in the place of pre and post subject. Again, challenging the concept of the muse and how the subject painted can change once it is displayed on a canvas.

Saville on the other hand, looks more at the male gaze and reverses the concept, by placing the emphasis on the female gaze looking towards the male viewer. She deals with the Lacanian theories again, reversing their context, in a manner similar to Ettinger’s approach. Saville deals with the aesthetics of disgust and her work is more provocative and openly challenging, whereas Ettinger’s is subtler as are the psychoanalytical theories behind them. Both artists have firm roots in feminist theory and this appears to impact their work and the ways in which they approach psychoanalytical theories.


Bibliography

Ettinger, Bracha. (2011). Uncanny Awe, Uncanny Compassion and Matrixial Transjectivity beyond Uncanny Anxiety. French Literature Series.

Meagher, Michelle. "Jenny Saville and a Feminist Aesthetics of Disgust." Hypatia 18.4 (2003): 23-41. Print.

Nixon, Mignon. “Mignon Nixon. Review of "Psychoanalysis and the Image: Transdisciplinary Perspectives" by Griselda Pollock.” (2007).

Rebecca Armstrong, “Jenny Saville: The ‘Other’ Body: Feminist Perspectives On Flesh”, 2015

Tina Kinsella, “'Painting the Feminine into Ontology: On the Recent Works of Bracha L. Ettinger”, Museo Leopoldo Flores/Galleria Polivalente, 22 Sep 2018, https:// tinakinsella.wordpress.com/catalogue-essay-painting-the-feminine-into-ontology-on-therecent-works-of-bracha-l-ettinger/

Trujillo, Maria. “Jenny Saville’s ‘Propped’: Female Worth in the Art Market” Art Critique, 31 Oct. 2018, www.art-critique.com/en/2018/10/jenny-savilles-propped-femaleworth-in-the-art-market/

Image References

Figure 1

Ettinger, Bracha. “Bracha L. Ettinger.” Braverman, 2018, bravermangallery.com/ artists/bracha-l-ettinger-2/.

Figure 2 

Sotheby’s. “The Ground-breaking Self-portrait that launched Jenny Saville’s career.” Sotheby’s, 27 Sep. 2018, https://www.sothebys.com/en/articles/the-groundbreaking-selfportrait-that-launched-jenny-savilles-career

Related Articles

Bracha Lichtenberg Ettinger, “Wit(H)Nessing Trauma and The Matrixial Gaze: From Phantasm to Trauma, From Phallic Structure to Matrixial Sphere,” Parallax, (2001) Vol.7, No. 4, 89–114, 90.

Ettinger, Bracha. The Matrixial Borderspace. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006, pp144. Print.

Ettinger, Bracha L. "Weaving a Woman Artist With-in the Matrixial EncounterEvent." Theory, Culture & Society 21.1 (2004): 69-94. 

Romanskaitė, Diana. " An Inquiry into the Theory of the Matrix: Subjectivity, Gaze, and Desire in Kristina Inčiūraitė’s Video the Meeting (2012)". Art History & Criticism 15.1 (2019): 83-95. https://doi.org/10.2478/mik-2019-0006

Prof. Andrew Lear. “The Feminist Concept of The ‘Male Gaze’.” Metropolitan Museum, 31 Aug 2020, https://Www.Shadyladiestours.Com/2017/08/31/Feminist-Concept-Male-Gaze/

[from-our-boxes]

Xinyan Wang - Artist Interview

Interviewer: Jie Wang

Interviewee: Xinyan Wang (https://wangxinyan-art.com)

Date: Saturday, March 19, 2022

Location: SAIC

Xinyan Wang is a current graduate student in the painting and drawing department at SAIC. Her body of work depicted her understanding of life while travel to various places to observe and explore. Her creation has always been changing through the transformation of time and space.  

During the interview, we mainly discussed her identity associate to painting in particular, the way she describe the boundary between the real and the ideal life, and how does intuitive emotion expressed through abstraction.   

Xinyan Wang’s studio ©Xinyan Wang All rights reversed  

Q: How does your family influenced you to be an artist?

A: I lived nearby the Forbidden City when I was little. All my memories about childhood, hometown and my Chinese culture background are originated from this "red palace wall”. My grandfather was a traditional Chinese ink painter, my grandmother was a traditional medicine doctor, and both of my parents love art. Therefore, I was inspired to draw at very young age in this environment. As time passes, I enjoy more and more the quiet time I spend painting and diving in the world I’m creating.  

Q: How does your education background affect your growth as an artist？

A: I systematically learned the theory of realistic painting when I was in high school, which laid a solid foundation for my future artistic creation. However, I found out I was learning the same thing during my first year in CAFA. I wanted to be explore new knowledge during my BFA years rather than the “ endless" basic realistic painting training. I made a bold decision, which I decided to transfer to study new media art at the Zurich University of the Arts (ZHDK) in Switzerland.  I think it’s a kind of against or anti-academic system to step out of my comfort zone and challenge myself. This is when I started my "painting exploration" like an unrestrained wild horse. There, teachers wouldn’t tell me what to do and how, and for the first time I felt what it was like to be a completely free artist who had absolute control over my work. But after that, I still returned to China and received my first MFA at CAFA. However, I was still confused about my "personal style" or my “work context”, thus I decided come to SAIC.  

I think the process is like buying clothes - what you like doesn't always fit, but things seems totally out of space may actually fit you well. Try more and you will find a  direction.

Q: How does the education experience inspire your creation?

A: The experience of going though the academic teaching system inspired me to create “Black Dahlia”. In this series of work I subconsciously refused to create around characters. I gradually began to explore the essence of painting in my creation, and weakened the expression of physical images. I focus on exploring the painterliness, recording emotions and feelings.  

 ©Xinyan Wang All rights reversed  

Q: Why do you choose these natural elements to be the contexts?

A: I started to paint outdoor during my MFA years in CAFA, in the grass, on the beach, in the woods, in nature, letting the emotions I got transfer directly to the canvas. I gradually forgot all the rules about painting that I had been taught in the academy, and although I may still have them subconsciously, I became more focused on my inner voice when I was painting.

My works turn into a stage of considering less about the content but more about the painterly. What I mean by this is about painting itself, the layering of paint, the brush strokes’ connection with canvas, etc.  

 ©Xinyan Wang All rights reversed  

Q: Your work seems to portray the experience in your mind of the carefulness of life in all its aspects. So how does art associate with your life in particular?         

A: My cat Oreo has always been with me when I was going through a series of doubts in my life and in my painting. At the same time, I feel that my cat has taught me to enjoy life instead of chasing an agenda, and that life sometimes needs to be relaxed and looseness. Therefore, I want to bring this happiness and relaxation to everyone, and I have painted many cats without realizing it.

 ©Xinyan Wang All rights reversed  

Q; Yes, I can see one right here. And I really like the layered textures, would you like to

describe the process?          

A: I like to feel the sheen of the oil wrapped around the paint, the cross of the layers, the tangled adhesion of the brush to the canvas.It takes months to complete a painting, and the colours that you can see now are not blended, but the result of layers of oil and medium. I believe that every brush stroke in a painting is important, and even every colour deserves to be critically analysed.

 ©Xinyan Wang All rights reversed  

Q: How do you portray the blurred border between reality and the ideal and how come the changes in your painting happens all the time?

A: Painting is the basis of all art, it is not dependent on technique like photography, nor is it visually descriptive like words. The act of drawing is a human instinct; a Neolithic man could draw on the ground with just a stick. Yet it is precisely because of its simplicity that it is the most difficult art to achieve.

The painting will change with the person. A sincere painting should be the mirror of one’s mind. For me, the formation of the personality of a person's mind comes from family and individual experiences in life. The individual thoughts and memories of each creator differ, resulting in different images of the painting. The subject of the painting is not the object itself, but an unconscious record of life, something that lies between the boundaries of real and ideal life.

Q: How do you identify “style” or “context” in your works?

A: This question used to bother me for a while. And now I don't think artists should deliberately look for a style or leave it unchanged for years. Because paintings change as people grow, if an artist works in one style for a few years then they have not refined themselves at all. There will always be those who believe that a mature artist should develop their own unique personal style, yet if an artist is labelled with a certain style, then aren't they commodified and fixed?  

At this moment, my works turn into a stage of considering less about the content but more about the painterly. What I mean by this is about painting itself, the layering of paint, the brush strokes’ connection with canvas, etc.

[from-our-boxes]

A Post-Pandemic Manifesto

by Drew Vernor

American writer and art critic Christopher Zara once wrote, “Great art comes from great pain.” The Wall Street Journal echoed this sentiment in late 2008 when discussing the birth of the Blues. Their two main arguments center around a great flood that impacted over 200,000 people. Two central events sprang forth from this flood: black Americans suffering in the south began migrating to the industrial Midwest, and a creative liberation centered around describing the suffering they had experienced began. From this came the blues. After every major tragedy, there seems to be a sentiment among the populous that rings true: at least we will get some good art out of this. It was a statement echoed after the devastation wrought by 9/11 and the subsequent war on terror, after Donald Trump’s election in 2016, and after the race, riots swept the country during the Summer of 2020. Barnett Newman’s article The First Man Was an Artist outlines how human nature lends itself to art. He argues that art is primarily about questioning the world in which we live. Indeed, if the purpose of art is to respond to and interact with the current sociopolitical climate, the greatest works of our generation should be coming any day now. The COVID-19 pandemic was an unexpected disruption of our daily lives, chronic isolation without end. According to an analysis of COVID-19’s impacts on art and culture, the economic toll the pandemic took on the sector was unprecedented. “For many arts organizations, the challenge of adapting in-person arts events to virtual art experiences—and to monetize these transactions—will remain critical to longer-term stability” Indeed, the long-term impacts of quarantine have yet to be fully understood by the masses. I would like to take a look at some of the art world’s responses to the pandemic and use these trends to forecast where we are headed now.

In early 2021, Artnet News interviewed 12 artists on how the pandemic has impacted their practice. Bea Scaccia had a poignant remark, “…Even though my life has maintained a certain rhythm, the more dramatic the situation has become in the real world, the more my studio has assumed the features of a place for uncanny, existential, and imaginative practices.” I believe that art post-pandemic will lend itself to the imagination. Like the floods in Mississippi giving rise to the blues, the art of the future will fall into one of three categories: mass-produced, escapist, or realistic. The mass-produced is simple, neoliberal fare, art made to reaffirm the status quo. Escapist art invites the viewer to imagine another world, one free from recessions and pandemics, and social unrest. Realistic art is made to directly reflect, critique, or comment on the current times. Each type of art fulfills a distinct need in the public’s consciousness. Eric Kohn of Indiewire describes escapist art perfectly in his piece “Why Movies and TV Are Obsessed with the Multiverse .”In chaotic times, the potential of other realities can be an enticing proposition.” Conversely, Bo Burnham’s Inside (2021), a musical comedy special that premiered on Netflix, strives to capture the contemporary pandemic experience. It chronicles a performer’s steady mental decline as he struggles to create art while trapped in his house. Socioeconomic and cultural concerns are juxtaposed with mental health issues stemming from prolonged isolation.

This work falls perfectly into the realistic art category.

Interestingly enough, when asked to describe the impact of the pandemic, Alvaro

Barrington had this to say, “The pandemic has made me address something that I think I had ignorantly tried to pretend I was too old to think about… I’m speaking about the digital revolution.” Lockdowns amidst a global pandemic quickly forced everyone online; congregating in virtual spaces allowed for human connection at a time when people could not connect in person. Digital galleries were infrequent but appreciated nonetheless. Local shows (concerts, gallery openings, open mic nights) in my area were held over zoom. Interestingly enough, digital art took center stage when the physical could not be reached. This led to the rise of non-fungible tokens or NFTs. Simply put, an NFT is a piece of digital artwork supported by a cryptocurrency blockchain. The blockchain provides a certificate of authenticity for the artwork, effectively proving that that piece is one of a kind and cannot be transferred to another individual outside of an official purchase. When buying an NFT, one is effectively buying this certificate which also allows users to see the purchase and ownership history of the artwork. NFTs aren’t the first type of digital ownership to exist, but they are currently the most popular.

One could argue NFTs have successfully integrated themself into the art world. EXPO

Chicago, an internationally regarded contemporary art exhibit, had several NFT showings in 2022. It’s safe to say that digital art ownership and transactions are here to stay. According to tech journalist Victoria Zavyalova, “Until 2020, [purely digital] projects in the art industry often lacked a clear business strategy… COVID-19 fast-tracked the creation of new tools….” Digital art sales grew exponentially during the pandemic, jumping from $1.3 billion to $10.7 billion in a matter of months. Now, there is something to be said about the NFT market being unstable, as it is largely propagated by non-artists and built upon cryptocurrencies, which are notoriously erratic. It is interesting that throughout the two years of the pandemic (tentatively labeled March 2020 to March 2021), cryptocurrencies such as Bitcoin found a surge in popularity and were valued at tens of thousands of dollars. Now that the pandemic is reaching its conclusion, the crypto market is crashing, with Bitcoin dropping over $20,000 in value since the start of the year alone. I predict that the NFT market will see a similar crash, as galleries, collectors, dealers, and artists seem to prefer tangible, in-person work.

I believe that the future of the art world is, in part, digital. Whether it is the baseline need to have a website and upload pictures of the work for sale or the broader push for digital collections and purely digital copies of artwork. I also believe that there will be an increase in kitsch art. Kitsch is outlined in Clement Greenburg’s article as “ popular, commercial art and literature with their chronotypes, magazine covers, illustrations, ads… etc.”. Mass-consumed art will become more and more prevalent in art and culture, as artists rely on fandom to get sales, and corporations become the only bodies with the pure resources to fund art. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with these two developments (a push towards the digital and the larger commodification of art), I worry that it will become harder for the art world to survive. In her text “Why the future of fandom looks like an NFT,” originally published in 2021, Leeann Duggan describes the rise of NFTs in audio art. “Music fans already evangelize for the artists they love… with [NFTs], fans can own a piece of the success they help create. The NFT mixtape offers the stage to artists often underrepresented in the music industry and empowers them to take greater control of their creativity.” This shift towards the digital ultimately empowers artists to control the means of production. The contemporary creator will have to contend with the nonphysical.

Works Cited

Artnet News. (2021, March 11). 'this year has deranged my senses': 12 artists on how the pandemic has changed the way they approach their work. Artnet News. Retrieved May 13, 2022, from https://news.artnet.com/art-world/artists-on-pandemic-year-1948191

Barnett Newman (1905-1970) 'The First Man Was an Artist' first published in Tiger's Eye (New York), No.1 (October 1947), pp. 59-60.

Castro , I. (2022, February 11). Interest in NFT market grew exponentially during pandemic. LendIt Fintech News. Retrieved May 13, 2022, from

Dawidoff, N. (2008, December 20). When bad times make good art. The Wall Street Journal. Retrieved May 13, 2022, from https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB122973726066823379

Duggan, L. (2021, October 27). Why the future of fandom looks like an NFT. Vox Creative Next. Retrieved May 13, 2022, from

Guibert, G. (2021). ANALYSIS: COVID-19’s Impacts on Arts and Culture. COVID-19 RSFLG Data and Assessment Working Group.

Kampmann, E. (1939). Greenberg, Clement: Avant-garde and kitsch. Kindlers Literatur Lexikon

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Zara, C., & Lee, R. (2012). Tortured artists: From Picasso and Monroe to Warhol and Winehouse, The twisted secrets of the world's most creative minds. Adams Media.

[from-our-boxes]

Lya Finston - Artist Interview

by Emma Varano

Lya Finston is an interdisciplinary artist currently working at Bucknell University as a TA and Shop Technician in the Printmaking Department. She graduated from Oberlin College in 2018 with a BA in Studio Art and German Language. During a two year span in Chicago, she was a fellow at Spudnik Press, an Access Services Assistant at the Ryerson Burnham Library at the Art Institute of Chicago, and a publishing assistant at Hoofprint.

Her work uses the media of sculpture, animation, and various forms of printmaking to illustrate her interests in the supernatural, folk tales, and contributions to the secular Jewish community as well a sustained research into the diaspora of Jewish culture.

Blessing for the Home, 2021. Wood and linoleum relief.

You said in your artist statement that a major part of your practice is contributing to the already limited secular Jewish world. Would you be willing to explain what secular Judaism means to you?

Articulating that I’m interested in exploring the world of secular Judaism is an important distinction for me because the messages and motivations behind my practice aren’t religious ones, despite my religious imagery and subject matter. I also make this distinction in order to cast a wider net over my field of research, as Judaism is not only a faith, but an ethnicity as well.

This distinction has a lot to do with my personal relationship with Judaism. I was raised attending a Conservative synagogue and Hebrew school, but recognized shortly after my Bat Mitzvah that I didn’t believe in God. Nonetheless, my love and adherence to the tradition, community, and culture of Judaism has always remained the same. Despite my atheism, I’m still a practicing Jew. My identity simply shifted from faith-oriented to a more cultural experience.

Investigating Jewish themes in my work has been my way of entering into a research-based relationship with my religion. I want to know everything about Judaism – especially where Hasidic and Kabbalic mysticism and the diasporic folk culture of Eastern Europe is concerned. The more I read, the more I’m moved to use illustration as a means of further investigation and comprehension.

When I was somewhere around 8 and 10 years old, my orthodox Hebrew school teacher passed pencils and paper out to everyone in my class and prompted us to draw what God looked like. After only a few seconds, she announced, “That’s right: You can’t draw God because He doesn’t have an image!” and collected the materials back from us. I remember feeling particularly struck and conflicted by this exercise. I knew exactly what God looked like. He looked like Raffi from the children’s song CD cover, but with a longer beard, and I was excited to finally draw him.

Of course, I understand now where she was coming from. There are very strong rules about visual representation in Judaism that stem from biblical Hebrew law against idolatry. For this reason, I didn’t encounter a tremendous amount of Jewish artwork growing up until I started looking at secular Jewish folk art and historic Judaica, which is a large part of why I’ve become so interested in secular Jewish culture. I think this is also why I’m so drawn to Christian iconography. Such magical and exciting things happen when artists are prompted to depict the unseeable, unknowable, and yet all-important. I want to be part of this tradition of artistry despite, and largely because of my Hebrew school teacher’s wishes.

What keeps you charged as an artist? How do you deal with lulls in creativity?

Reading always helps. Also, going to art museums, openings, and conferences. When I graduated college, I got myself to keep making by signing up for print exchange portfolios and saying yes to every commission that came my way. I recognized pretty quickly that deadlines were important for me, and these were the best ways I found to implement them outside of academia. I also hit the ground running applying to lots of shows. The more I applied to things with the same old pieces of work, the more motivated I was to make new work.

Orphanim (Angel) 2021. Wire, relief prints on paper.  

Do you have any advice for those pursuing a BFA/BA in the arts?

The worst thing you can do is stop making work. Just keep making no matter what!

Also, don’t be afraid of your professors! Talk to them, go to their office hours, become their friends, and recognize them for the incredible artists and resources that they are. I feel so incredibly lucky for the relationship I have with my undergraduate printmaking professor. We texted, emailed, and talked on the phone throughout my entire graduate school application process. She saw every draft of everything I wrote and was so generous with her feedback despite being across the world in Estonia. During my time as a printmaking shop tech at Bucknell, I was constantly asking her advice about the way she runs her shop at Oberlin.

Despite being so smart and experienced, she’s also just a great friend to me and I love hanging out with her at conferences. Don’t sleep on the opportunity to build relationships like these.

What are some of the most valuable things you have learned from all of the different locations that you have lived and interacted with within the past two years?

This experience taught me that, particularly as an artist, it’s important not to get too tied down anywhere early on. It was really hard for me to think about leaving Chicago at first because I loved the friends and community I found there. Eventually, it was urban pandemic anxiety that pushed me out, which I’m honestly grateful for because it led me to my first paid job in printmaking since undergrad. It’s important to keep your options open when you’re young and to be willing to relocate if it means advancing your career and your practice. You also need to remember that moving doesn’t mean losing the friends you made. Building a wider geographical network of friendships means you’ll always have a buddy wherever you go :)

What did you take from your time in Chicago?

My time in Chicago taught me that continuing to make art in heavily resource-dependent media like printmaking is really hard outside of academia. BUT, it’s by no means impossible, and you grow and learn so fucking much from making it work. I’ve made the most incredible relationships with other printmakers and their spaces through this process. These relationships turned into the friendships and mentorships that allowed me to continue making prints outside of college, and that bolstered my graduate school application four years down the line. I’m certain that I wouldn’t have gotten into the programs I did without these references and experiences, and I certainly wouldn’t have been truly ready to pursue my MFA without this time off in the “real world.” My time in Chicago also made me feel confident that, even if I don’t go into academic teaching after completing my MFA, I can get another job and keep making my work on the other side.

And, lastly, any favorite cafes or spots you loved spending time at in Chicago?

FYI: I lived on the westside in Pilsen/Little Village, so this list is going to be pretty partial to that neck of the woods.

Cafe Jumping Bean: Great cafe on 18th st in Pilsen

Cafe Mustache: Probably my favorite coffee shop in Logan Square

Any Panaderia in Pilsen or Little Village: I went to Nuevo Leon on 18th st and La Central on Cermak the most. When you go in, you grab a metal tray and a pair of tongs and walk around the displays picking out yummy pastries to buy. A fun and delicious experience!

Any Michoacan ice cream place in Pilsen: You can find their paletas in most corner stores around the city. I recommend the spicy ones!

Athenian Candle Co: Cool candle shop in Greektown with all kinds of soap and incense that will bring love and money into your life.

Ghareeb Nawaz: Yummy Indian/Pakistani food in Greektown/UIC area

Jibaritos y Mas: Yummy Puerto Rican food in Logan Square. If you don’t know already, Jibarito is a kind of sandwich with fried plantains instead of bread – highly recommend!

Skylark: Best bar in Chicago! Cheap, divey, and hip with amazing tater tots. It’s cash only, so come prepared. Easily accessible via the Western bus.

Chicago Athletic Association: A cool historic (?) hotel across the street from the Art Institute that has an awesome bar on the second floor called the Game Room. The ambiance is so cool in there and always made me feel super fancy while sticking to my budget. Besides bocci ball, pool, and shuffleboard, they also have a great happy hour special that I used to indulge in far too frequently after work. You can get a cheese burger, a generous side of fries, a shot, and a random shot (usually a weird liqueur) for only $10! The Drawing Room (which you have to walk through to get to the Game Room) is a super beautiful space to work in, and you can even order oysters if you’re feeling extra fancy.

Taqueria Tayahua: My favorite Mexican restaurant. Near the intersection of Western & 24th St

Taqueria El Milagro: Amazing Mexican food on El Milagro’s own tortillas! If you’re buying tortilla chips or tortillas in the store, El Milagro is the way to go. I highly recommend going to their Taqueria on Blue Island in the winter time so you can get some Champurrado, which is a delicious kind of thick hot chocolate with masa in it.

Chile Toreado: Great Mexican place in Mckinley Park! I ordered the carne en su jugo when I went, which was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten lmao.

Huck Finn: A classic-style diner on Archer in Mckinley Park. Their claim to fame is giant donuts the size of your head (and bigger!). It’s super fun to go there with friends and split one.

Museum of Mexican Art

Intuit (Folk and Outsider Art Museum)

DePaul Art Museum

The Newberry Library

Matchbox Bar

Garfield Park Conservatory

Inga Bookshop

The Musicbox (movie theater on north side)

Gene Siskel Theater (pretty sure you’d get a discount!)

Chicago Cultural Center

Buddy Chicago

Fireside Bowl

Ryerson Library (where I worked! It’s inside the Art Institute – first left after the gift shop)

Promontory Point in Hyde Park

Hyde Park Art Center (they also have a cute cafe)

Manny’s Cafeteria and Deli: Jewish Deli!

The Empty Bottle

The Hideout

Schubas

Harold Washington Library

South Side Community Art Center

Events/Programming

Zine Mercado

Grabadolandia

Chicago Zine Fest

Zine Not Dead

Chicago Art Book Fair

Things to avoid:

Taste of Chicago (so crowded I wanted to die)

Being downtown/using CTA during Lollapalooza

Spoke & Bird (gentrifying coffee shop)

WNDR Museum (stupid instagram “art” organized by rich white people)

Slippery Slope (it can be fun if you have lots of friends there to protect you, but every time I’ve ever gone, I ended up in an uncomfortable situation with a creepy man)

If you’re ever traveling via CTA alone at night and you’re feeling a little nervous/unsafe, always take the train cars that are as close to the front of the train as possible, if not the closest. You’re less likely to be bothered up there since you’re super close to the conductor/CTA staff.

You can find Lya’s work on her Instagram account @thehottestdjinmiami and on her website at https://lfinston.wixsite.com/lyafinston

[from-our-boxes]

Rebbeca Ann Beachy - Artist Interview

by Fiona Nguyen

Today, I will be interviewing Rebecca Beachy, one of Chicago local artists and a former professor at the School of The Art Institute of Chicago, to explore the more-than-human world and how it is conveyed in art.

___________________

Fiona Nguyen: Good afternoon Rebecca. Thank you so much for doing this interview with me. I know that you have a very limited time due to final critiques and grading so we will dive in the first question right away. So, what drives your interest into the non-human world? Where do you find your first inspiration?

Rebecca Beachy: I find relief in the beauty, diversity, and complexity of nature—human beings are constantly making ourselves out to be more important than the rest of the natural world. It’s a lonely position to see your species as above rather than interconnected with an entire ecology. I’m not sure about my first inspiration, I never exactly knew that I wanted to be an artist so much as I knew that in nature and with non-human animals I felt like I belonged unconditionally and that persuaded me as to how I ought to spend my time. Growing up, my family had a hobby farm with an orchard, a pond, and lots of animals so I was in constant contact with chicks, puppies, baby goats, pigs and more. I grew up feeling a bit wild amongst it all.

FN: I am very interested in what you say about your background, like growing up with animals at the farm; and this leads us to the next question I have for you. From your works I have learned that you pay extra attention to the environments and places where plants and animals inhibit. So I think that there’s a certain connection between your art practices and the background where you come from. Can you share with me about your cultural identity and how does that affect your work?

RB: Your question makes me think of my Mennonite/Amish heritage, my grandparents were Amish when they were young and they later converted to become Mennonite. The Amish are a religious sect that came to America as settler colonists in early colonial American history. They live by principles of Christian pacifism, simplicity, and self-sufficiency—they are known in the midwestern US for traveling by horse and buggy and for non-participation in modern technology. The Mennonites are a less strict version of the same—they can drive cars and use modern technology, for example.

My dad broke off from the Mennonite church for a more evangelical Christian belief system in his 20’s, which my family came to follow. Even though we didn’t grow up in an Amish or Mennonite community (I grew up in a mostly white and Christian Colorado suburb) this history heavily influenced my family life due to my dad carrying over a love of the outdoors, of raising animals, fishing, and gardening from his Mennonite childhood. I do not relate to conservative evangelical Christianity, but a certain grounded earthiness carries forward and deeply informs who I am today that I believe comes from the generations before—including a belief in modesty, non-violence and a strong connection to the land and its creatures. It’s challenging to think about how my ancestors fled religious persecution in Europe only to displace native peoples in the United States, but also interesting that they’ve maintained a stubbornly self-sufficient way of life that to some degree is much closer to indigenous ways than to the ways of contemporary society—without cell phones, laptops, machine-reliant farming or cars. They show us that living without these extractive and consumptive technologies can be done right here in America. I don’t agree with many Amish beliefs, such as ideas about patriarchal power, “God-given” gender roles and the sometimes ruthless use of animals and children as laborers, and I don’t intend on converting, but I do find aspects of their way of life inspiring.

FN: I totally agree that the past is indeed building up what we are looking at in the present and future, even just a small part of it. And I notice that your work features various extraordinary mediums such as ashes and animal bones. Do the Mennonite practices you partially “inherited'' from your Dad direct you to the use of organic medium?

RB: I love working with the histories and the impermanent/ephemeral nature of organic materials. Life is in constant flux and I want my work to belong to this truth whole heartedly. I am also simply fascinated by the history and the stories of nests, feathers, bones, stones, and the like. For me these materials are much easier to identify and relate to than a material like plastic.

I’m more curious about materials which a lab or a factory did not create.

FN: Lovely! I can tell how your art practice deeply hinges on the core idea of belonging-to-nature. Since we are talking about this aspect, I want to know what is the purpose and goal of your work?

RB: There is a deep need today to acknowledge and mourn the loss of reciprocal and respectful relationships between settler colonial humans and the non-human world. I can’t say it’s a singular goal, but I hope the work carries an ethic of rebuilding a sense of connection, wonder, curiosity and relationship. This means looking to bones, ashes, etc. to remember the cyclical nature of life and the importance of both grief and wonder in moving forward honestly from such an environmentally devastating moment in history.

FN: One of your recent works is “In no time” collaborated with Christine Wallers. I remember that I was very interested in this tiny piece when I first saw it in person at the gallery. But only when I looked at it on your website, I realized that the tiny ash “mountains” are just a part of it.

Can you expand more on the meaning behind this artwork?

RB: “In no time” was an exhibition where I was invited to respond to the room and produce a floor installation that would accompany Christine Waller’s beautiful inked cut paper works. I found the exhibition space floor and ceiling to be interesting—it had an artificial stone floor and institutional cheap modular ceiling tiles. Then I noticed a crack breaking up this artificial stone and this captivated me—the crack was the larger geology shifting the institutionally dull aspects of the room. So I decided to trace the crack, reproduce it by sewing it into transparent plastic and to hover it above with sewing pins as a way of calling attention to this greater force acting against the floor. I came to see it as a kind of fuse that could be ignited, indicating the temporality of the space in contrast to the larger geological setting. The ash piles came in as an echo of the volcanic, fragile, and time dense qualities of Christine’s labor intensive works and a further indicator of a deeper time-scale. We also collaborated on a large bone-ash wall painting that had a strong presence of time and materiality through the scale of both size and animal bodies (it takes many bones to produce a pile of ashes big enough to paint a wall with). Black paint is often made from burned bones, so there’s an echo in how we are often unaware that the materials we use in our artwork—materials that often come from burned animal bones.

FN: I really appreciate your effort as well as that of other artists exploring the neglected more-than-human beings.  Do you think that the effort of understanding plants and animals help with the climate-ecological changes? How important does an artist play in the process of saving our planet?

RB: Absolutely. I think understanding other beings and ways of being is key to getting out of so many normalized and massively destructive ways of relating and participating in life. The rules of the dominant culture today are not the only ways to exist—there are other life-forms and Indigenous examples of much healthier and life-supporting ways forward. While it takes a lot of time that we do not have given the urgency of the situation, learning to learn from non-human beings and indigenous peoples is key to a course correction.

FN: So that one was the last question I want to ask you today. Thank you so much for your thoughtful answers! I really appreciate how you are promoting the non-human world surrounding us. I will reach out to you if I have any further questions!

___________________

Please check out Rebecca’s website to see her beautiful artworks via this link https://www.rebecca-beachy.com

[from-our-boxes]

Nick Cave: Forothermore

Exhibition Review by June Thomas

            Recently I had the pleasure of visiting the Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary art to see a newly installed exhibit centered around the fashion performance artist Nick Cave, Nick Cave: Forothermore. I had seen a lot of Nick Cave’s art before, but only through what I had been introduced to through SAIC. I know Nick Cave is an SAIC alumni, and thus I have seen a lot of his performance art, specifically involving his sound suit series. I had seen videos on his process of creation: his methods of collection and found art, his incredible detail, his meticulous labor. I was familiar with his artwork prior to this exhibition, and thus I was interested in how it would be translated to a gallery space, especially since his work is so focused on tactility and movement and sound. How would that work be translated in a gallery, when the artwork has such an inherent focus on movement?

            Upon entering the installation, the viewer is greeted not with Nick Cave’s most famous work, but instead with hundreds of spinning and flashing mobiles that hang from the ceiling at varying lengths above the ground. Despite being fairly silent creations, the spinning of hundreds of them give off a slight whirring sound that permeates and floods the room, creating an interesting and slightly ambient vibe to the room. They function less so as specific, individual objects and more so as a means by which the viewer is removed from their previous physical space and transported into a more surreal one. 

            The exhibition is extremely successful within the way it moves the viewer through a created and curated space, allows them to fully soak in the visual noise of one piece or series before moving them on through to the next logical idea. And once I had reached the end of the spinning mobiles, I entered the beginning of the actual gallery space: Nick Cave’s sound suits.        I had seen the sound suits in videos and images online before, but there is such an incredible presence that the pieces give off when viewed in person. They are surreal and fantastic, they are huge, commanding, noisy, bright, and almost wholly otherworldly. They are suits, designed specifically for people to wear them, but they seem alien to the notion of clothing; they are not clothing in the traditional sense. Instead it is clear they have a purpose, and that all of them exist within the same sort of universe. They have a visual language, a series of motifs, that unites all them under the same umbrella. Upon reading the description it becomes clear that these suits were specifically designed for a set purpose.

            The Soundsuit series was created after the beating of Rodney King in 1991. Horrified by the injustice and violence against black men, Nick Cave began collecting twigs in a Chicago park before then creating a suit of armor that all at once successfully hid his identity while also highlighting a sense of otherness and strangeness within the world. The suits are human like in structure, but all of them are extremely bizarre, their proportions exaggerated, their features obscured. The suits exist with a paradoxical function of protection while also fully othering the subject.

            One thing that I really admire about the Soundsuits is that they exist as sculptures and art objects but also exist as suits for performance. They have a function that can only be revealed when they are worn and when a subject moves around within them. The sound that results is incredible unique, and according to Nick Cave, functions as protest to the injustice the pieces highlight. In order to protest, you must make noise. I was interested, therefore, in how this incredibly important aspect to the pieces would be implemented within the gallery, especially considering that they would be displayed in such a static, unmoving fashion.

            The gallery accomplished this in two different ways. The first was a setup of headphones dispersed periodically throughout the specific galleries where sound was an important aspect to the piece. These headphones would play a mashup of Nick Cave explaining the process of creating the piece and/or the meaning or concept behind it. All the while, a sonic recreation of the piece in action would be playing in the background, allowing the listener to immerse themselves within the environment of the piece. My favorite of these was the sound piece describing the creation of the first sound suit, specifically the one built out of twigs from Chicago parks. The sound was extremely visceral, combining loud and disturbing sounds of twigs snapping and twisting with the wave like sound of the piece in motion. It created a sonic landscape with which the listener can envision the narrative of constructing the piece and then wearing it, and how both of those sounds symbolized different aspects of the piece.

            The second method of demonstrating this piece in action was by presenting a literal video of a sound suit in action. The exhibition could have presented this video in a simple and not interesting way, by simply pairing it next to a sound suit and letting the viewer understand its importance, but the gallery created a more engaging method of interacting with the video. It was tucked away in a side area of the gallery, in a dark room that gradually decreased in size as you approached the screen. It functioned incredibly as a way to sanction off the experience of viewing, to let the viewer completely immerse themselves within the sound and visuals of the video without the distractions of the surrounding gallery.

            After the sound suits, the gallery finished by allowing the viewer to explore the earlier, experimental works of Nick Cave. Most of these works revolved around similar ideas of collecting and repurposing, but within different contexts. The gallery provided a wide variety of pieces, and allowed for an understanding of Nick Cave’s practice and the line of thinking that brought him to his most recent works. One of my favorite pieces of this series was an installation of a variety of work gloves incased in resin illuminated from the back. The piece was made in light of the Aids crisis, and the gloves represented a historical and permanent representation of suffering and lives lost. The process of collecting was an important aspect to this piece, and it demonstrated how that process of collecting grew and exploded into the elaborate pieces Nick Cave is making today.

[from-our-boxes]

Human/Nature - Exhibition Review

by Khe Quoc Yen Nguyen

Weinberg/Newton Gallery is a non-profit organization that exhibits artworks surrounding the theme of social justice. In the Human/Nature exhibition, various works including sculpture, painting, textiles, and AI-generated images are on display concerning the alerting matter of climate change and exploring ways to enhance sustainability of materials. Featuring artists in the show are Laura Ball, Stas Bartnikas, Donovan Quintero, Obvious, Karen Reimer, Matthew Ritchie and Regan Rosburg. The organization is also collabing with the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists and featuring the image of the Doomsday’s clock, which  is a representation of the possibilities of man-made catastrophe based on environmental matters.

One of the most notable art pieces is the moss sculpture by Regan Rosburg. Various natural elements such as bird wings, antlers, vegetations,.. are formed into plastic sculptures, intertwining swirling plastic and rubber bands that expands outwards. The whole structure is covered by a blanket of moss. There are several orchid plants of different species emerging from the greenery. This is a particularly thoughtful piece, as the artist has paid attention to the smallest details such as the plants arrangement, along with the usage of a steam diffuser and rain-scented essential oil to create an immersive experience. The composition is harmonious and full of movements. The apparent contrast between the black plastic sculptural part and the lush green moss create a poetic duality, since one resembles liveless fossilized matter and one stands for thriving life. I also find it intriguing how the animalistic shapes, usually the animated ones, are now the muted part in appearance, and how the moss are brought into a normally pristine gallery space. I think the big life-size scale is effective, as it captures the attention of the viewer really well and fills up the space in an atmospheric manner.     

Through the collaboration between Obvious and Stas Barnikas, a doomsday clock A.I installation was made. Wooden fragments frame an atomic clock with a video screening beneath. Images in the videos morph into each other and are constantly changing, compiled and generated by a computer with the inputs being Barnikas's aerial photos. In a way, this piece gives me the connotations that the images are how A.I sees our world. The images resemble landforms and water bodies, but I wouldn't be able to tell what exactly it is. The contrast between the generated landscape and the wood, a material from our actual environment, is a thoughtful choice, though I do not know what is the intended effect of keeping both parts in rectangular shape. After reading the notes on the Doomsday's clock on the wall, looking back at the A.I clock gives me a dystopian-type of feeling, the kind of feeling that the world as we know of will one day perish. I think this is a particularly thought-provoking art piece.

Laura Balls' illustrations are another notable part of the exhibition. She worked with the shapes of wildlives and merged them together into one bigger form. It is the kind of art that requires you to look more closely and spend time to see the smaller details. The wild animals are depicted very lively and the motion of the larger form is brought out excellently. The message seems clear and straightforward, which is a good thing in this context.

Overall I think the exhibition was successful in raising consciousness about climate change. It gave me both the ‘what is at risk if we don't be alert' and ‘the possible solutions for sustainability'. There were elements that satisfied the scientific as well as artistic inquiries. It was hosted at the right time and moment too, to remind us of a prevalent issue but not as spoken of during the last few years.

[from-our-boxes]

The Animation Industry and the Covid-19 Pandemic

by Matty Braure

In March 2020, the World Health Organisation declared the Covid-19 outbreak a pandemic. For a short period, working people were subject to a government-mandated lockdown to quarantine any possible new cases and avoid the spread. It resulted in catastrophic, unprecedented statistics when it came to unemployment. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labour Statistics, 2.4 million jobs were dismissed in the professional and business services industry between March and April. This vast depletion of careers includes the entertainment industry, where Hollywood and the live-action industry saw up to 200,000 jobs abruptly laid off. However what if a notable form of entertainment, usually the underdog of its kind, was able to flourish during the confinement? Animation has always been a staple in a consumerist culture.

The ability to attract audiences comes from the help of colourful and imaginative visuals, whether it be the graphic design of a website; a PSA about self-distancing; advertisements or VFX (visual effects) in movies; animation as a medium is ingrained in pop culture. It maintains a form of consistency during these trying times, as consumers and producers increasingly find themselves at home. But how? What exactly in animation allows for a smoother transition towards at-home production, and why has it gained popularity during a time where everything is mobilised around the pandemic? This analysis will be composed of three parts: how studios have managed to adapt to a new workflow; reviewing popularised trends; and the overall economic feedback of this industry during the pandemic.

Jen Rudin, a former casting director for Disney, Amazon, and Nickelodeon quotes: “We don’t have to touch each other to make animation happen.” That is factual, as animators have been working remotely for years. Most modern studios hold many computer stations connected to drawing tablets: teams exchange progress digitally whether the employees are a desk away, or overseas since the industry has streamlined the process into reliable, low-cost studios around the world. Art software such as Toon-Boom and Maya allows anyone across the world to open and edit the same assets or files. The technology has evolved to a point where reviewing a layout or animated shot can even be accomplished on a mobile device. Programs to manage teams have also seen similar technological advancements to analyse and track the productivity of artists working outside the studio. A particular program includes Harmony Web Control Centre, a web server that allows off-site artists with internet access to tap directly into the studio’s pipeline.

According to the House of Cool Studios (based in Toronto, Canada), the negative impact has been modest and has seen a higher degree of productivity. Reduced in-person interaction meant that directors had to be concise with artists’ outcomes, and dedicate one-on-one conferences during kick-off meetings. These intensive exchanges left team workflow uninterrupted, resulting in better and more efficient work. Cartoon Saloon, another animation studio, was interrupted as they neared the completion of their 2D animated movie Wolfwalkers (2020). This Ireland based studio partnered with a clean-up team located in Luxembourg and was thankful to have finished most of their hand-drawn segments before the lockdown. An issue they had to face was their bandwidth, meaning that their compositing team was the last to leave the studio with heavy files. Thankfully, their IT and administration team were able to help manage their internet-related issues. VPNs were installed, and the usage of Skype, Google Hangouts and Zoom was able to keep up communication as they finished the movie.

Regardless of the positives, the industry acknowledges the negative impact of the lockdown migration. Studios were forced to adapt and organise themselves differently than they normally would, which resulted in obvious delays, domestic and global supply lines disrupting and live events (promoting new projects; film festivals) postponed or cancelled. Overseas distributors were also negatively impacted, such as Sentai Filmworks, as they experienced losses in physical sales with the closure of Walmart, Best Buy and theatrical releases. Another example would be Jordi Oliva from Catalan studio Imagic TV (France) who says “the crisis has been very negative for our finished feature film with the cancellation of festivals and markets. Overall, I’d say (…) in marketing, distribution and sales, a 90% impact.”

Other drawbacks included crunch time, as some studios rushed production to keep up with release dates or even artists relied on resourceful setups at the studio. Equipment had to be sent to artists and even voice actors’ homes to maintain quality for the final production. Island of Misfits (Halifax, Canada) experienced issues in lag and audio/picture syncing but thankfully managed to test and set up new software to improve them. Although employment was in high demand due to the increase of streaming platforms, integrating new employees was found to be tricky due to the sudden change of pace and personalised pandemic workflow of each studio.

Thankfully several months after the sudden lockdown, the stress and hectic changes began to slow down at the end of 2020. Advantages and trends were becoming more apparent as studios and distributors settled into their new routines. Different, but positive feedback began to flow in as Covid-19 allowed animation to find a new life- not in movie theatres- but at home. According to Yahoo’s 2022 report on the global animation industry, streaming video services are the fastest-growing distribution channels for animation, and are currently witnessing a double-digit growth that is expected to continue.

On April 13th 2020, Forbes declared Trolls: World Tour (2020) to be the first digital title with the biggest opening day and weekend. It topped sales and viewer-watch on platforms such as Amazon, Comcast, Apple and Youtube, and became the most pre-ordered title during its first three days of release. Admittedly, the movie isn’t humanity’s magnum opus and was released on digital platforms as a test subject. It made sense after all, as families had more access to the internet rather than a closed theatre. A $20 price tag might have been attractive to those who want to show their kids a new movie. Trolls: World Tour‘s success alerted the industry that not all movies had to go through theatres to be successful. Streaming platforms are the all-new hype.

This supply and demand reaction encouraged studios to seek more artists and animators to come up with new ideas. Shows are being pitched more frequently. Whilst traditional production was struggling due to safety protocols, animation hubs were hiring. In the past, streaming has struggled to break into areas more traditionally suited to a live broadcast model (news, sports). Animation managed to fill that gap as it’s a niche that services can appeal to. Although one might believe animation is only catered towards children, adult animation plays an important role too. It has gained popularity in the last decade thanks to shows like The Simpsons, Bob’s Burgers, Beavis and Butthead and Rick and Morty, inciting studios to produce more animation for mature audiences willing to pay for such forms of entertainment.

Further emerging trends and technologies have made it clear that not only animators can be hired in this industry, but also computer professionals, programmers and technicians. The evolution of VFX, AR and VR technologies is changing the consumption of films, as well as video games. The video game industry is composed of a multitude of talented animators and has undergone a similar transition. Gaming was once seen as an isolating activity- but that couldn’t be further from the truth. As of the second quarter of 2020, Twitch- a leading live streaming platform for gamers- saw an 83% year uprise in viewership during the pandemic, with over 5 billion hours of content viewed. This spread of video game culture is driving the demand for animated content.

Styles of animated feature films are changing as well. Though 2D animation is rare, a hybrid of 2D and 3D animation was born due to the success of Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse (2018). Recently, animations like The Mitchells vs. the Machines (2021); Arcane (2021); Turning Red (2022) and The Bad Guys (2022) have merged these two styles to make for an exciting, visually appealing experience. The reduced costs and dynamic camera of 3D production mixed with sparks of 2D elements are being seen more often as studios draw in new audiences. Finally, Tiktok, an app mimicking its predecessor Musica.ly, has popularised short video formats. By gaining the attention of millions through personalised skits, studios and animators alike have been able to market their work. These productions have cheap and quick turnaround times, aiding the popularisation of animation as an art form.

More recent articles prove that animation has successfully adapted to this pandemic. CNBC reports that Disney’s most recent movie, Turning Red (2022), is the third Pixar film to transition to Disney’s streaming platform during the pandemic alongside Soul (2020) and Luca (2021). Families have been slow to return to theatres, even after vaccination. Although unfortunately, no animated film has surpassed $100 million domestically since March 2020 (the top earners being Universal’s Sing 2 (2021) at $97 million, and Disney’s Encanto (2021) at $92 million), their goal is still financially motivated but with the intention of marketing to new audiences. Kareen Daniel, chairman of Disney’s media and entertainment distribution explains that “Given the delayed box office recovery, particularly for family films, flexibility remains at the core of our distribution decisions as we prioritise delivering the unparalleled content of The Walt Disney Company to audiences around the world”.

In conclusion, the animation industry underwent many changes since the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown in March 2020, and have even exceeded expectations. Although the beginning was hectic, with artists and actors being uprooted from their working stations; technical difficulties; tight deadlines and marketing issues, studios were able to get back up on their feet and tweak certain aspects of what was already an isolated “covid-proof” work environment. Improved technology and the rise of streaming content are factors that push animation further into the mainstream, making it a form of entertainment that is easily accessed. Due to the high demand, studios are finding new ways to evolve animation into different styles and ways of consumption. As the pandemic continues, one can only hope that studios continue to release ambitious projects to keep people sane during a difficult era.



Bibliography

Desowitz, Bill. “Cartoon Saloon’s Animated ‘Wolfwalkers’ Battled Covid-19 in Ireland | IndieWire.” IndieWire, IndieWire, 27 Apr. 2020, https://www.indiewire.com/2020/04/cartoon-saloon-animated-wolfwalkers-covid-19-ireland-1202227053/.

Herman, Alison. “TV’s Future Will Be More Animated - The Ringer.” The Ringer, The Ringer, 16 Sept. 2020, https://www.theringer.com/tv/2020/9/16/21438989/tv-animated-series-pandemic-boom.

Kashty, Meagan. “How Is the Animation Industry Adapting amidst Uncertainty?  | Arts & Design | Sheridan College.” Sheridan College, Sheridan College, 23 Apr. 2021, https://www.sheridancollege.ca/newsroom/articles/arts-design/take-5-how-is-the-animation-industry-adapting-amidst-uncertainty.

Markets, Research. “Global Animation, VFX & Video Games Industry Report 2022-2026: Digital Advertising, OTT and Gaming Have Witnessed Massive Spikes in Consumption During COVID-19 Across Geographies.” Yahoo | Mail, Weather, Search, Politics, News, Finance, Sports & Videos, Yahoo, 15 Apr. 2022, https://www.yahoo.com/now/global-animation-vfx-video-games-083800118.html?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAC-vQ1G7Fig3hJHPECoyPv1OgX-2JLdW2kQBdof4EJ-VZZ_sPhNNhErnvIUs5MIBHxb7HtQ1fAXEL_jxhFp57v61rD15NyqjpGkRF4fYqM4tiwFfFhYCjdhRK9XKTSZXZg-aVgqfgSXmn53_cAVMf9H64PVV_uU4a2ERfdoQY3F9. 

Mendelson, Scott. “‘Trolls: World Tour’ Breaks Records And Nabs Biggest Digital Debut Ever.” Forbes, Forbes, 13 Apr. 2020, https://www.forbes.com/sites/scottmendelson/2020/04/13/trolls-world-starring-anna-kendrick-justin-timberlake-and-rachel-bloom-tour-scores-biggest-digital-debut-of-all-time/?sh=126877882c43.

Mustafa, Bahaa. “View of Dr The Effect of Animation on The Society During The COVID-19 Pandemic A Literature Review.” Journal of Arts and Humanities, 16 Dec. 2021, https://www.theartsjournal.org/index.php/site/article/view/2225/1006.

Op-Ed, Cartoon Brew. “For The Animation Industry, The Coronavirus Crisis Has Created A Big Opportunity.” Cartoon Brew, https://www.facebook.com/groups/14828751350/, 1 May 2020, https://www.cartoonbrew.com/ideas-commentary/for-the-animation-industry-the-coronavirus-crisis-has-created-a-big-opportunity-189911.html.

Skwarczek, Bartosz. “How The Gaming Industry Has Leveled Up During The Pandemic.” Forbes, Forbes, 17 June 2021, https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbestechcouncil/2021/06/17/how-the-gaming-industry-has-leveled-up-during-the-pandemic/?sh=74d2ffce297c.

Whitten, Sarah. “Pixar’s ‘Turning Red’ to Skip Theaters, Head Straight to Disney+.” CNBC, CNBC, 7 Jan. 2022, https://www.cnbc.com/2022/01/07/pixars-turning-red-to-skip-theaters-head-straight-to-disney.html.

[from-our-boxes]

Florence Liu - Interview

by Daria Jin

Hi Florence,

My name is Daria Jin and I am a BFA student at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. The purpose for this email is to have a short artist interview with you for a class project or my course Advanced Survey of Modern And Contemporary Art and Architecture.

Through this project, I hope to explore the messages projected behind these beautiful works and to understand how a great artist like you turns observations and ideas into works. As a student and emerging artist, I am very excited to learn about your project： Intertwined No.2 and Eternal cycle that inspires my artistic practice. I spent a long time going through all your works on your websites, I’m absolutely in awe of the sensuality, fragileness, and beauty your works convey. Here, I’m going to ask you couple questions concerning each project I listed above.  

In your project Intertwined No.2, you made a book using Abaca Pulp, hair, thread to imitate female body. First of all, I’m really surprised how much Abaca Pulp look-alike real human skins. Therefore, I’m wondering how do you make decisions when it comes to choosing materials? Second, as I was looking at this piece and the video, I really got the sense of “peeking into someone’s body”, as you stated in your artist statement: “ uncanny investigation of the vulnerable and private feminine body.” book is such a great metaphor for body. The fragileness of the pages indicates the sensitivity and softness of feminine body. Yet the active action of turning the book, shows that women in this society are subject to "passiveness" under many scenarios, being watched and turned by “uncanny gaze”. The question is, how did you come up with the idea of using a book to voice the vulnerability of female body? Or more generally, how do you turn abstract idea into figurative works?

In your 2020 project Eternal cycle, you demonstrate your continuous investigation on human body, its transformations and growth. Your in-depth understanding and exploration of the subject is also reflected in this work, as is your familiarity with the various materials. My question for this piece is: how is hanging the skin indicates utilizing the time of difficulties as a way of growth and expansion? Does it mean because we are born very fragile, to grow order and stronger, pains and struggles are inevitable? Also, as I went through your website, I found other projects like ice message, the wheel of being all contains elements of “body”, “growth”, “femininity”, “human&nature”. I guess my question for now is what leads you into investigating those elements throughout the journey of an artist? Does your inspirations more come from your personal past experience or more come from social phenomenons you observed/ interested? 

Last but not least, I just want to say it again, mere words can not express my praise and appreciation for your beautiful artworks. You are the kind of artist I look up to and inspire me to create. Therefore, l want to ask you if you have any advice for young artist? Or like something you hope you know when you first start the journey of being an artist?  

I’m really honored to have this interview with you, and thank you for accepting this request. I am really looking forward to see your reply! 

Cordially,

Daria Jin

-------------------------------

Dear Daria,

Thank you for your thorough analysis and for looking into some of my work. Here are my responses to your questions:

- How do you make decisions when it comes to choosing materials?

RE: The majority of my work emphasizes the evidence of hand that shows the process of making and the transformation of each material. I usually choose materials that directly reflect the concept of each work, and sometimes, the material is the concept. In the case of "Intertwined", paper is used as a metaphor for human skin, yet paper is skin that originates from plants, from nature. Abaca, as is a species of banana native to the Philippines, stands out to me for its translucency and strength. I was able to inlay hair between two extremely thin sheets of abaca skin and still have a strong sheet that allows light to shine through it. Thus, the intertwined plant and human fiber are both evident and together they are mended into an unusual yet sensual surface.

- How did you come up with the idea of using a book to voice the vulnerability of the female body? Or more generally, how do you turn abstract ideas into figurative works?

RE: A lot of my work goes through multiple stages of tests/versions to get to its current stage and during each stage, new ideas and concepts are born. "Intertwined" series started out with a single sheet of abaca skin that has cotton threads inlaid between the paper. I was fascinated by the juxtaposition between organized threads and the tangled threads that ran across the page, so I decided to create a book with this type of paper to see how each page interacts. During making, I started seeing threads as a bodily element just like hair, so I guided the form into a body-like shape as the pages become smaller towards the center. When I started the second edition, I decided to switch threads to hair to directly reference the body. However, I prefer to leave the ideas open-ended so the viewer can make their own analysis based on what material is used. The idea always started out simple/abstract (and sometimes it's just an impulse of material exploration), and through lots of making the work will start to speak for itself.

-  How does hanging the skin indicate utilizing the time of difficulties as a way of growth and expansion?

RE: This project was born out of the experience of quarantine in 2020. The bodies are squeezed inside of the small vessels and the motion of pulling them out symbolizes growth and expansion similar to the feeling of when I left my room and breath in fresh air after a month of being trapped inside. Also, I'm intrigued by how my mind and body project the world differently and learn to appreciate nature more every time it goes through this process of isolation and expansion. Therefore, hanging the bodies like laundries also provide a hint for the cycle of renewal and purification.

- What leads you into investigating those elements throughout the journey of an artist? Do your inspirations come more from your personal past experience or more from social phenomena you observed/ were interested in?

RE: The element of body and nature is an everlasting theme that has been revisited numerous times throughout the history of art. I believe it's in our human nature to document/record our surroundings and experiences, and this is the one thing that distinguishes humans from other animals. Just like little kids drawing matchstick men, houses and landscapes, I don't see that many differences between my current work and the crayon drawings I made as a 3-year-old kid. They are all documentation of life and how we represent the world we are living in. The most interesting part for me is seeing the transformation and evolution of my work and continuing to create.

- Any advice for young artists? Or like something you hope you know when you first start the journey of being an artist?  

RE: It is important to recognize where your strength/interest (as well as weakness:) lies. The purpose of being in school is to help you discover, so trying as many different things as you can at a young age helps you understand better which path to proceed. Also, being an artist is a hard journey because there's no right/wrong answer, and no beginning/end. We all have to spend a lifetime discovering what our purposes are as artists. I am also on my journey of exploring. Knowing where your interest lies helps to set up small goals and give you a direction; recognize your strength and continue to enhance it. Focus on small goals but don't overthink about larger achievements because those will distract you from creating works. And for me, the most important thing about being an artist is to continue producing work.

Hope this answers your questions. Good luck with the rest of your semesters!

Best,

Florence

[from-our-boxes]

Artist Revive – Hsieh Muqi

by Jessica Chen

If it is said that painting is to return to itself and see the essence of life, it is also to nestle in the veins and reflect the land poured on me. In 2019, Hsieh Muqi's solo exhibition, through dialogues with the previous painters, stirs up the deficiencies from the inside to the outside and settles the issues owed to himself and his paintings over the years. Responding to Taiwan's identity and asking for help from the previous painters

There are always issues in everyone's life that they cannot choose and must face. The exhibition’s title, "What I Owe You," is a self-consciousness of Hsieh Muqi, who asks himself, "As a Taiwanese artist, what is it that you cannot leave behind and must deal with? Of these painting tasks to be dealt with, Hsieh believes that the first and foremost is the identity of "Taiwan.” Therefore, he looks back to the past and asks for advice from his predecessors, who were also Taiwanese artists.

"In those days, someone said, "If you have never painted Guanyin Mountain and Danshui River, you are not worthy of being called a Taiwanese painter. I think that's an exciting statement. Although the former painters' use of landscapes is partly a response to the official exhibition mechanism, for Hsieh, it is also a natural one: "Guanyin Mountain, coconut trees or banana trees are all parts of our daily life. These things keep appearing in my works, and I should say that they have always existed," says Hsieh. I create my works in this time and space, and it serves as a timeline as if the contents here can establish a relationship that can be contrasted or cross-referenced through Taiwan's art history.

"In the early authoritarian era, most works were to avoid disasters, not wanting danger to happen, and sometimes the artists had to hide or alter their works.” With "Landscape on the Way Back,” Hsieh combines Lin Yu-shan's painting with "The Horseman,” which was reworked to avoid a disaster, reflecting on the motivation to use an image to respond to the environment and remember the times.

When the audience walks past the gourd-shaped incense sticker in the exhibition hall, they will hear the human voice, which speaks the keywords that Hsieh has used in his search for information and conversations with previous artists. "The combination of matte paintings and human voices is a bit like I am facing the ghost of my painting, which is the baggage or prejudice I have accumulated over time. When I was a student, painting could be done with enthusiasm and vigor alone, but it becomes heavier and heavier when it becomes a professional or even a lifelong career. "My first solo exhibition in 2006, A Staggering Event - A Place Without Beginning, was the beginning of my exploration of painting. said Hsieh Muqi. "That time, he started to do conceptual manipulation and no longer faced the blank canvas alone. Since then, he has worked around the periphery of painting, exploring the issue of art industrialization through projects and collaborations. Although his creative direction became more and more enriched, his hesitation and anxiety about painting were hidden inside: "The target of criticism and denigration at that time was the status of 'brush painter,’ that is, the painter did not need much skill and could become an artist through substitution or various means. The truth is that I encountered a bottleneck in painting with a brush, so I abandoned the immediate future and looked for another way, "but after developing in that direction, it did not solve the problems I encountered on the canvas.

The "Mountain Road Sketching" project in 2012 was the inception of the "I owe you a painting" project. "At that time, I used mountains as the theme, writing about Yangming Mountain and Wuzhishan Mountain, and I also thought about running away from Guanyin Mountain, which previous painters often painted. He sometimes went to the field to compare the similarities and differences between his paintings and those of today and sometimes copied the brushwork techniques of his predecessors or imitated the characteristics of their styles. "It is a bit like sketching from a landscape painting and gradually writing into the paintings of the predecessors. As for the meaning of painting now, Hsieh says, "I wouldn’t know what will be left in Taiwan's art history or what will be evaluated by doing these things, but I can turn around and incorporate that time and space into my works.

Facing the same scenery as his predecessors, Hsieh expected that he would be able to paint his splendid paintings, and even if he quoted from them, he used his brushwork and style as the central theme and tried his best to take their connotations and create them again. In the face of the changing times, he also hopes to reflect on the generational problems of the painting experience; for example, the depiction of images as mosaics in a grid, and the lack of resolution of the simulated images, is an expression of the experience of reading through the Internet, which is close to the actual image nowadays.

Accessing experiences from the past is gradually becoming a guideline for practice and a resource for drawing materials. I am thinking now about how to "create my style and reassemble the present moment" through these "fragments of time.” Hsieh says that the first two solo exhibitions were more like a learning tongue. But now, slowly, he seems to be talking to himself.

[from-our-boxes]

Exhibition Review: Françoise Grossen at Volume Gallery

by Yasmin C.

In early April 2022, I visited Chicago's West Town Volume Gallery, known for showcasing a diversity of commercial contemporary art and design exhibitions, focusing mainly on emerging artists. At the time, the institution was hosting Françoise Grossen's solo show, a swiss-american fiber artist that stands out for her experimental braiding techniques and hanging installations. Having pursued higher education in architecture and textiles in Switzerland, she came up as an emerging creator in the late 1960's New York scene among other heavily influential people such as Eva Hesse. I chose to visit this show in particular for its resemblance to my own art practices, as recently I have been experimenting more with fiber and sculpture.

The show had a whole room for itself. Upon entering, right by the door there was a small table with quite a few books featuring the artist and her past exhibitions. I did not look through them much to save it for last, in order to examine the art without any bias. After glancing at the room and getting a general idea of the show, the first piece I began to examine was "Two Braids" (1987, linen). It's a piece composed of two small similar linen elements, hung about an inch away from each other and from the wall, both hanging by thread. It is made up of a single material and a single color, so a very minimal composition. They are not braided, but instead tied in ways that give a sense of movement to the thread. It is a very delicate piece, and elegant in the way that it's installed – minimal, fragile, simplistic. They remind me of voodoo dolls, the movement of waterfalls and even earrings giving its display. I admired this piece for its minimalistic qualities, but I found that its job in the big picture of the show is to give relief to the other maximalist sculptures ahead.

Right next to it, close to the corner of the room laid the star of the show, my favorite piece of them all: Metamorphosis IV 7 (1987-1980, manila, paper, plastic, acrylic paint). As I had first entered the room, from afar it could be reduced to a mess of stacked wires and rope, but upon closer inspection the shapes and colors came together to reveal a splendid piece. During my time looking at "Two Braids" (above), I couldn't help but peek at this piece. The fact that it was almost my size and was hung from the ceiling like a ghost made me check my surroundings every couple of minutes. It is a 72-inch textile sculpture hung from the ceiling with wire, colored with a warm dark palette. Sturdy, thick and intimidating, the organic and artificial shapes come together nicely. It's a very suggestive object; its form may resemble gory meat, ribs and dried blood, but as you come closer the materials reveal nothing but a work of pure aesthetic. It's a piece that's purely up to interpretation – one that suggests ideas but that confirms none. Everything about it is uncanny, from the placement to the details. I'd catch a glimpse of the eye through the corners of my eyes and get a little scared, or at least aware of its position. "Metamorphosis IV 7" is my favorite artwork from the show for its suggestive shapes, warm colors and installation; a brilliant piece of work that focuses on aesthetics.

Almost acting as a companion piece to the last work, I came across "Metamorphosis IV 6" (1987-1990, dyed and acrylic painted manilla, and plaster). It is very similar to the last one, as if they had come from the same family. However, here the assumption of the relationship with body and gore seems to be further away. The black and yellow colors suggest more of a carpet-like feel, with a buildup of dirt. Although it's made up of the same materials, It is way less suggestive of natural beings than the companion piece; for me it resembled a carpet that had been rubbed on some sort of decaying flesh, and that's when I truly began to think about its relationship to Metamorphosis IV 7: This one, however, is not intimidating at all. It definitely starts a conversation about gravity and the interaction with the installation wire. The piece seems to be hurt from the way it's hung, aching from holding on to the cable tirelessly.

It is also relevant to mention "Maquette for Private Home" (1980) and "Braided Single Element" (1974). Both follow the same guidelines as the first piece I described, "Two Braids": delicatetly braided small-scaled monochromactic works of fiber, hung from about an inch away from the wall. They both seem to be floating and defying the laws of gravity, a concept that seems to resonate among the entire showcase. "Maquette For Private Home" particularly stands out to me from all of the small-scale pieces for introducing a more vibrant shade of orange and an organic-like quilt. Very delicate, but strong. Another piece that seems to be purely aesthetic, and I admire it even more for that. "Apodid", the elephant in the room. Although it was placed in the center, right in front of the door, It turned out to be the last piece I visited: specifically because I was avoiding it. It resembles a combination of all of the pieces in the show, there is an element from each, except for the relationship with gravity; it lies on a low pedestal. As for its appearance, it's completely "dry". It has a very odd shape and the pattern on the rope is quite familiar, almost like something you'd see in a grandmother's house. Slightly purple tinted and bulky, this is the hardest piece to grasp because it doesn't necessarily associate with anything. In my opinion, if it had been placed and displayed hanging from the ceiling like its counterparts it would've been more interesting. I don't like this one very much. Dry and moody like a grumpy Monday morning.

In conclusion, I enjoyed Françoise Grossen's work very much, especially because it deeply resonates with my own art practice. It was eye-opening to see the many different ways one can reinvent the use of rope and the careful braiding techniques on such delicate textiles. From the peace of the small-scaled braided elements to the large, ghost-like fleshy sculptures, it is joyful for me to find someone so devoted to using raw materials and be able to recreate it in different ways. I left the gallery immensely pleased with my experience and I hope to visit it again in the future.

[from-our-boxes]

Tenzin Toon Interview

by Drew Vernor - 5/12/22

The following is a transcript of a podcast episode that I did with an aspiring filmmaker who is in the middle of finishing up his feature film. In it we discuss kitsch cinema and its place in culture, Marvel movies, and his own movie making experiences.

Drew: Hello. My name is Andrew Vernor, and I’m here with our guest, Tenzin Toon. He’s currently a film student at DePaul in the middle of finalizing one of his first projects.

Tenzin Toon: Not one of my first projects, but my first competently put together professional piece. Well, maybe professional is a little bit too much (laughs)

D: Well, as we get started, can you tell me a little bit about the piece you’re currently working on? Just walk us through the premise. If I remember correctly it’s currently only in the screenplay stage, you haven't gone through like the first official rounds of casting yet.

TT: Oh, yeah. So it's a film based off of a six minute movie that I did with my friends in 8th grade. But we took this old piece and made it actually something worth watching.

D: Yeah.

TT: Right.

TT: Now it has been like since October I started this and it is just now getting into the scripting phase. Like literally all of what was happening before was outlining and conceptualizing how the story was going to go, what message we wanted it to say, how we wanted the arcs of the different characters to play out.

D: Now I've brought you on here today because I want to talk a little bit about a couple of things. I want to talk first about your practice and the work that you're in the middle of finishing up right now. I want to talk a little bit about what is and isn't considered cinema in today's day and age. Do you know what kitsch is? If you don't, I don't mind describing it to you.

TT: I’ve heard the term. I would not know how to define it.

D:  So basically, kitsch is mass produced art. Now that's a broad kind of generalization of the term, but it basically encompasses anything that's mass produced, anything that’s commercialized and anything that only seeks to reaffirm the status quo. And of course, I want to talk a little bit about Marvel movies within that framework, because I think that discussion is really interesting.

D:  But all of that aside, we'll get into that later. So can you tell me a little bit about the plot of this piece that you're working on right now?

T: Yes, the very, very basic plot. Currently we're workshopping new names, but the original name of the piece from 8th grade was just called The Pencil because that was the inciting incident.

T: Basically, a student breaks his pencil and has to go on a very convoluted journey to get another one. And so he has to go on a grand adventure to get another pencil.

T: If I had my notes, I could give you the log line.  The basic idea is that, yes, through time, effort and luck. Anything is possible given enough of those three things, you can literally do anything within the bounds of the laws of physics. However, that is not practical advice because when applied oftentimes you don't have all of that and so the best thing to do is just learn what is and what is not useful to apply your energy energy towards.

T: The protagonist starts out of very much believing that everything requires his full attention and effort,

but through this journey, slowly discovers that sometimes they don't need to do that.

T: I think it applies very well to the modern way we talk about success to kids. The protagonist is

probably high school aged. We aged him up, actually a little bit. But where we teach, like, try your best, always keep trying. It's like, well, yeah, but what happens when you realize that something isn't worth the effort?

D:  This piece also deals a lot with themes of growing up and childishness

versus adulthood. Can you go into that a little bit?

T: Yes.  So, one of the main characters’ room, and this is something that me and my writing partner have talked a lot about how to represent, is the conflict between “authoritarian maturity” versus “unchecked childishness”  And the main character's room is one of the first locations we see. And his room is very much a child's room.

T: It’s full of toys. It's full of things that we think of as being emblematic of childhood, save for the large black desk in the corner, the monolith that represents this conformity to work, and the out of place feeling that that gives. And there's just an imbalance where both sides are not necessarily correct. It’s someone growing up, learning about nuance. And that's really hard to do because usually if you want to make some sort of center point…for every situation that tells you one thing, you have to give the counterpoint, so that eventually the audience falls into the middle viewpoint, whatever that is. But that's really hard and actually really annoying.

T:  So we just decided, fuck that. We're just going to talk about one of these things, which is that authoritarian maturity is not good, which is not exactly the most hot take, but I think it's interesting.

D: Can you tell me a little bit about the type of media that has informed this work?

T: Yeah. There's one very blatant draw for me, and that is The Green Night,

which came out like a year ago.

D: The Green Knight.

T:  I love the format and I love the style of it. The fact that it's a coherent

piece, but there are distinct chapters where each chapter is a new challenge to undergo. It's almost episodic. I like that format, and I'm into fantasy. So that was like, like a big inspiration for the journey section of this piece.

D: Now, can you tell us a little bit about the type of media that has informed your work as a whole, or maybe just the type of media that you enjoy? Because I think that would be a great jumping off point to the larger conversation about the use of kitsch media.

TT: Well, the thing is, I'm not exactly picky in my media watching. I enjoy Marvel movies. I love my high concept films are great. I think they're wonderful, and I enjoy them every time I'll watch Jaws in Indiana Jones and Star Wars all the time. They're great. And then there's the other side, which is more of the independent experimental film. I guess The Green Night could fall into that. A24 is becoming more mainstream, but I think they still count I would still count them because they're more focused on less the spectacle and more the technique.

D: Tell me about what you think the difference between, if any, movies and cinema is?


TT: I have a very distinct difference between them. I think it's all film. As far as I figure, film is any video product. It's hard to define because it's kind of amorphous. Whereas cinema and movies are a subset, two separate subcategories where cinema is about the movie making process, it is about how to tell a story through film, like how to use film at its best to tell some sort of interesting story. Even if it's incoherent, it is not beholden to an audience like movies are. Movies are beholden to the audience because they are very specifically entertainment and entertainment for most of the time, a large group of people. So they often have to sand off the edges a little bit here and there. Cinema can be weird and fucked up. And I think that's the important difference in when I use those two terms.

D: Now a couple of years ago, Martin Scorsese got in a lot of trouble for saying that Marvel movies aren't cinema. I believe Francis Ford Coppola also said the same. And he later went on to clarify after a deluge of hate from fans, that movies are supposed to be or cinema is supposed to be challenging, and he doesn't find Marvel movies challenging. Do you have any opinions on the topic or the value of movies that are, let's say, mass produced for as much entertainment from as many people as possible?

TT:  I don't think that he's wrong when he says that Marvel movies are not cinema. And that is if you look at the definition that I've given you, I feel like that makes sense. But also I fear that they don't mean what I mean. And what they mean is that they have less value. And I think that that is a lot harder of an argument to make in this discussion.

D: I chose Marvel movies very specifically as my example of kitsch media. I think it fits well, not only because it is mass produced, but also because it was made as a direct result of capitalism. For a lot of those movies there's this interesting phenomenon now where, let's say Sony will put out a Marvel movie exclusively for capitalism because it wants to keep the rights of these characters, because it sees that Disney’s Marvel movies are making billions of dollars and it's afraid that if it releases those rights, it'll lose out on all that money.

TT: The fact that the public has now had to or just been exposed to niche Copyright and IP ownership stuff is very funny to me. And I think emblematic of that even outside of the movies themselves, there's almost an entertainment value in watching the companies scramble over these characters.

D: But it's not only Marvel movies that I said fall into this category. I think one can make an argument that any sort of franchise film would. The Despicable Me movies that have been ongoing forever; children's animation has its very particular problem with these types of movies that’s been described as almost auto generated because they're not made to challenge their audience.

TT: I mean, Steven Spielberg did everyone either a great service or a terrible disservice with the making of Jaws and the introduction of high concept. Got to be careful to follow my own words there.

D: But you think there is a place in culture for these types of movies?

TT: Absolutely. Of course, look at culture. I don't think anyone can say that it hasn't been impacted by these movies. And I would say that it's a hard argument to say that that impact is completely bad. So I don't know. It's hard to assign a value to art, even if it's not, quote, unquote good art.

D: Do you feel like the type of work that you want to make falls under a kitsch cinema?

TT: It straddles the line because I think there's a little bit of because I take influence from both cinema and movies, because I don't like saying that one has more value than the other, because I think they both provide value in different ways. I think I want to make is entertainment. I want to make an entertainment product that moves somebody that makes someone go like, wow, I am inspired. Or the pinnacle of it is making someone believe that magic exists for at least a moment. If I can do that, that's what I want. And I think that falls under entertainment and I think entertainment is movies, but I love cinema.

TT:  I mean, Christopher Nolan. Now, I don't know if I love using him as an example, but that's a man who took cinema and made it into movies. Like, he took these techniques, the focus based movie making process, and applied it to mass produced media. So I think something like that would probably fit me.

D: So part of Scorsese's argument was that not only are these movies unchallenging and they're, let's say, safe, but they're also heavily market researched, audience tested. So anything that kind of stands out from the typical Marvel Fair kind of gets blended down or sanded down into, like the standard schlock.

D: I think he hates them almost as much as I don't like the type of animated movies that fall into this category. Because with Marvel movies, I feel like since they are not exclusively explicitly for kids, there's at least some sort of care in making them. I mean, the quality varies, obviously, but animated movies that are mass produced because they're made for kids, I think people tend to think, oh, well, the continuity of this doesn't matter. The quality of the writing of this doesn't matter. We just need to put enough jokes that the kids are satisfied and we can just pump this out.

TT:  So do you want to set fire to Illumination Studios?

D: Yes, a little bit. I think it's also because the thing is, you and I were kind of born in a generation that is watching their culture get defined by these types of movies. I can't speak to how it was before I was born, but I feel like these franchise films tend to dominate a much larger part of our culture than they did in early 2000s.

TT: I will say that phenomena is not exclusive to movies. I don't know. People get annoyed when older people or people like me who are 80 years old inside say, like all music nowadays sounds the same. People get annoyed because it feels like an attack on the things that you like. And I understand that, though, when I say that I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. What I think is that it's been market research is that people know the ways to make music because they've done the studying. They know what makes good pop songs. That's why pop songs sound the same, because there's the formula that we figured out over the years and people like it. Same thing goes with Marvel movies. There's a formula that people enjoy. What is the value of art if not to impact a person in some way? I've seen these movies make people, like, cackle with laughter. I've seen them make people cry. That seems like pretty impactful to me.

D: Jamie Lee Curtis has also come under fire for saying something similar. Everything Everywhere All At Once came out around the same time that Multiverse of Madness did both multiverse films except one is backed by Marvel and one isn't.

D: Currently Multiverse of Madness is eating up Everything Everywhere All At Once at the box office. Because, of course it is, because that's kind of what happens when a normal movie comes out around the same time as a Marvel movie.There's probably something to be said about the fact that people who maybe 20/30 years ago would be making their own big nerdy films or big blockbuster movies are now kind of being swept up under the Marvel umbrella and making movies for these already established franchises. People have said the same thing about Star Wars.

TT: That is possibly true. But here is a counterpoint to, I think, all of the concerns of the Coppolas and the Scorses and the Curtis’s.

TT: Everything Everywhere All At Once s to me very specifically a counter to Marvel. Right. Like it's taking these themes and not like directly attacking Marvel, but using these multiverse themes and using them in a way to tell a completely different story and like using these things that we already know because of Marvel to, I don't know, critique that type of storytelling. But what happens everything all at once when you remove Marvel, is it still a good story? Absolutely. But it goes from removing mass produced culture removed the impetus for counterculture. In history, we see the major cultures make way, like have their counter in counterculture, surprisingly. And then slowly that counterculture takes over and then we moved on to the new counterculture. That shifts and we keep doing that and we've done that. That's just I feel like how art works. You have to have the thing to criticize. The big thing that everyone likes to criticize. I don't know. It doesn't take away value completely because of course it doesn't. These movies are still very good, but it removes a context that I think is important..


D: That’s interesting. I think some of the broader critiques on mass produced culture that isn't just that it’s mass produced; One could argue that the grander problem is Disney, this media conglomerate producing so much of our culture. In the the article that we read about avant-garde vs kitsch, Clement Greenberg basically argues that this is the type of thing that eats away at culture. This conglomerates slowly buying up more and more media companies that were making different types of media and kind of filtering it through this lens so they can all be housed under one umbrella. That's the type of thing that quiets dissent, that removes resources from more avant guard work, and that makes it so that everything that is mass, well liked is kind of filtered through this, like neoliberal Disney schlock.

TT: Well, Besides the neoliberalism, none of that's new.

TT: That the Hollywood film Studios, like the MGM and Paramount, all those guys who have been around forever, they were doing that back in the 30s. That was what they were doing. They owned culture. You could not see a film that wasn't one of theirs.

D: And you don't think there's a difference between that and what Disney is doing now?

TT: I think that it's an evolution and that it is a lesson from the past that I can point to that and say it does not kill culture because culture can't really be killed like that. Not that kind. Because the more and more Disney buys up stuff, the more and more Studios fall under the mouse's rain or whatever. Yes, I think that's not good, but it won't die. There are places that Disney is not going to touch for one reason or another. Either it's not worth it or this or that people are still going to be making stuff. Even YouTube now; there are so many more avenues for producing and publishing now. Yeah, the resources might go away. But I mean, think of in film school. You spend weeks learning about the French New Wave cinema and the French cinema. They didn't have anything. They had a camera, and that was it. I don't know if they could do it. Why can't we have plenty more resources than they do? I just think lead. I think it's a danger, but it's not going to kill.

TT: It not going to kill anything. Not completely. Movies will still be made. Art weirdos will still go see them. Even some people who aren't.

D: Actually that kind of leads into a broader discussion that I wanted to have about making art in late stage capitalism. How do you justify making art to yourself with the world the way it is?

TT: I think a lot of people, artists, especially because they have to justify their work. They have to justify why they aren't doing something else. There's almost an obsession with rooting art in saying something, and I think that that is good to an extent. If you're going to create art, it should be saying something because if it's not, I'm not interested in it. Other people may be that's fine, but it holds much less value for me as a human being.

TT: But the point is I don't feel that need to be obsessed with [the politics of] it. I think it's an important component, but my goal is to provide an entertainment product. And so that whatever message that I am saying, it can't overtake the enjoyment of the piece. And I think that happens a lot in cinema is whatever the message or the thing that's trying to be said, it is overshadowed by it overshadows the enjoyment of watching it. The longest movie in the world is called Logistics, I believe. And it's like 38 days long.

TT: And it follows backwards through time, like the production of a pacemaker or something, something like that, some medical equipment in real time. I don't want to watch that. Who wants to watch that? No one wants to watch that. The problem is I can't get your message, whatever message you're trying to say, because I don't want to watch it. And that's the problem with a lot of those types of media is how are you going to get your message into the world if no one's going to consume your piece? I'm less concerned with it because my first priority is making something good. Good to watch.

D: What is some of your most helpful advice to aspiring filmmakers who are hoping to get to your position?

TT: . I would say biggest piece of advice is learn how to work with people, because especially filmmakers who are going into creating art from that creating art focus, because there's many ways to become a filmmaker. There are people who've gone through like the stunt career and become directors. There are people who have not necessarily where the create the like telling some fantastical story wasn't necessarily the focus for them. But if you are going in with wanting to make art, the pitfalls that a lot of people find is that they don't know how to talk to other people. Specifically, if you are a new director or you're just working on your first piece, you have to be able to tell the lighting guy what you want them to be doing and you can't tell them about your amazing immersive world. That's not what they're looking for like that's. The thing about film in particular is that it's a very it's a technical process as well as a creative one. If you're talking to your cinematographer, you have to tell them you have to know what camera lens you're going to use and be able to talk to them about that.

TT: Learning to talk to people outside of creativity I think is really vital, even though that feels kind of weird for a very creative process. But there's too many people that work on a film, there's so many people that work on those things and not all of them are are going to understand your artistic vision so you need to talk to them in ways that are divorced from that.

D: Well, thank you for your time!

TT: Thank you for having me!

[from-our-boxes]

The House : A Dark and Twisted Anthology Movie

by Ryann Nguyen

“- There is nothing better out there anyway.  

-  For those who decided not to find it, there can be nothing.”

The following quote is stated from the movie The house (2022), a British anthology tale that revolves around different stories of a strange house. Written by Emma Walsh, this is one of the very few animation movies that can make you watch several times but still don't understand its plot, as well as its layers of meaning. The House introduced audiences to a dark world where every ticking second is a new adventure to the land of mystery.

Remarkably Weird: Full of Mystery and Curiosity

Image from Netflix trailer

This is not a haunted story. Breaking out of the horror movie rules of haunted buildings, The House shows audiences a different take on how dark a movie could be without jump scares and bloody details. Consisting of three different stories that occur at the same place, the movie let audiences follow the lives of various kinds of characters who appear to be victims of one house. 

The first story featured a poor family, who received an offer to move from their old house to a luxurious new house. After moving in, their oldest daughter, Mabel, starts to notice strange things about the house and its residents. Her parents begin to lose their minds and act in such a peculiar manner that she can not recognize them anymore. The question here is, whether did they get consumed by the darkness of the house, or did they change themself in order to pursue an expensive life that does not belong to them? 

In the second story, audiences are introduced to a nameless housing broker with the appearance of a mouse. Setting in a developed society, our main character tries his best to give out a great performance and become successful with his job. Nonetheless, although he puts in massive effort to sell the house, it seems that the house already has different plans for him.

Moving to our last story, the house is now owned by Rosa, a passionate cat landlord who always believes in the potential of her house.  Despite being devoted to the house with the desire to turn it into a dream house, Rosa is lack both intellectual ability and financial capacity. Things start to take an even worse turn when all of her tenants refuse to pay their renting fee, leaving Rosa stressed out and hopeless with a broken house. In the end, it is her choice to abandon the house forever, or continue to live with a hopeless dream. 

Aesthetic of the Movie

One of the most successful aspects of The house is the amazing visual design. The amazing animation appears to be aesthetically pleasing while bringing viewers uneasy moments throughout the whole movie. 

The storyline in each part of the movie always starts with a peaceful atmosphere that depicts the adorable life of each character, and then soon takes an unexpected turn to become something much more twisted. Although there is no gore detail in The house, the movie still has a grimy and shadowy color palette with horror details that could haunt viewers for a long time after watching the film. Simple, yet elegant frames also have a strong impact on promoting the characteristic of each scene. The heavier the atmosphere is pushed, the classic characteristics of humans are more strongly represented through animal figures and likewise. Bringing dark subtlety to another level, The House is successful in embracing the new emerging aesthetic of horror. 

Image from Netflix trailer

Major Themes and Impact

The House can be a very controversial story based on how it can make audiences feel uneasy throughout the journey, even though at the same time they could sympathize with all the characters.

A work full of dramatic elements: family tragedy, a bit of dark humor, lessons about the value of money and the price of greed,... The movie definitely gives audiences a lot of things to think about when it ends. As audiences, we see the suffering of Mabel, Rosa, and various characters. We also are able to witness the cruel reality of our society and how it has failed the lower class. At the end of the journey, the pitfall that sends the characters to a vicious cycle of suffering is money. All their irrational actions are prompted by the lack of money, which leads to the idea of how people have been controlled by money and the rule of the rich. As audiences, we are brought back to reality, where everybody is the victim of a merciless society that has no way out. 

What this movie does extremely well is that it gives viewers a fresh portrayal of humankind within the form of a peculiar magical world. Even though the idea is not new, how they approach audiences with dark encounters and cruel twists is something that is not always seen in animation movies. Although The house has no “bad guy” and “good guy”, it still makes us question those ideals of “the good and the bad” we had before.

Final thoughts

Within the time of approximately one and a half hours, The house did a great job in carrying deep messages throughout the ordinary life of different characters. Classic details that seem to be old-fashioned are now used extremely creatively in The House to create a compelling storyline. Beautiful character design and aesthetics visual elements also contribute greatly to the success of the movie. Overall, I would give The house a 9/10.

[from-our-boxes]

June Thomas - Introduction to an Interview with Nick Briz

            In April I had the pleasure of seeing one of the performances at the Gene Siskel’s Conversations at the Edge, an event dedicated to screenings, performances, and talks by a wide arrange of new media artists. Titled “An Evening with Nick Briz”, the lecture performance was led by new media artist Nick Briz on the topic of surveillance capitalism and the disconcerting lack of privacy in the growing internet age. Using a desktop as his palette, Nick presented the topic in a manner that used the very internet technologies he was speaking about in a way that acted as education. He was giving a lecture, yes, but he also was performing. He invited the audience to interact with their own phones and demonstrated how easy it was to steal data. He did all of it in a way that maintained an artistic and optimistic viewpoint. I left a little bit more enlightened, yet at the same time a little bit more cynical. How do you fight what seems to be such an overpowering, overbearing force?

            I left one of our art history classes in the same way a few weeks ago. At a certain point the topic of imperialism was brought up, how forces so much greater than ourselves have enacted such terrible and destructive consequences on the world. It lead to a conversation on the world at large, the future, systematic problems, and our perspectives on it. As artists we often position ourselves at the forefront of these fights. We often have lofty goals; we want our work to mean something and have an impact on the world. We want to, at the end of the day, say that our actions have mattered, that they can matter. But it can feel strange to be an artist. It feels weird to be sitting in my room, recording sounds, writing music, drawing, painting, conjuring up metaphor, while the real issues wage on outside the walls of our dorm. When asked whether or not the world will change, most of us carried a pretty similar sentiment: it feels hopeless. In light of such a powerful destructive force like capitalism, what, realistically, can we as students and artists do?

            Nick Briz is no stranger to these sentiments and questions. The majority of his work revolves around capitalism and how that system has greatly affected technology and the internet. He highlighted how companies have virtually unrestricted access to insurmountable amounts of data, data which, in the right hands, could do a great deal of good. But capitalism ensures that decisions are based on profit. For example, Nick highlighted how information had arisen that revealed Instagram’s algorithms are directly causing depression in teens, primarily teen girls. Instagram understood this, but because changing this problem would lead to a collection of less data, they ignored it. Less data means less power and therefore less profit. How do you fight such a force?

            I sat down last week to talk with Nick Briz, both on himself as an artist and on his views on art as activism. One thing that really drew me into his work was that it functioned both as traditional gallery art and as educational, activist objects. His worked intrigues me because in spite of such large systematic problems he continued to carry with him an aura of infectious optimism. He maintained that there were things that we can do, there are actions that matter. It's a perspective I greatly admire.

[from-our-boxes]

Morris and Company: A Review of a Delectably Deceptive Textile Exhibition

by Emma Varano

Rebounding from my upbringing in a rural town of 5,000 people devoid of any known cultural institution, I fell head first into the urban landscape of my college town of Chicago, Illinois.

The arts scene that I was exposed to was much more domestic. My grandmother has been an accomplished textile artist since my birth; she excels in crafting large format pieces that are complimented excellently by a private setting, alluring to touch and to sight with delicately pillowed forms punctuated by her gentle handiwork throughout her art pieces. In other words, she’s a quilter. She taught me how to crochet, embroider, sew, cross stitch, and, albeit begrudgingly, how to knit while my mother worked as a registered nurse at the local hospital.

Populating the sun kissed country hills I saw through car windows were barns adorned with a classic circular Pennsylvania Dutch art piece, a kind of folk art that I have a much higher appreciation for now as a lowly art student as compared to when I was a kid in the back seat of my mom’s old sedan. The forms and shapes that fall under this style I adore, and now that I have a touch of art jargon in my arsenal I have a slightly smoother time articulating my appreciation for the floral bells and curves and geometric patterns that I have yet to see replicated anywhere else, much less acknowledged by the art world (as with many other cases of anything that is befallen of the fateful ax of the folk art label).

As follows my excitement for the opening of the Textile rooms in the basement of the Art Institute of Chicago. Walking through the South Asian hall, I frequently peaked my head around the small alcove before the stairs in front of the entrance to the Greco-Roman sculpture area. I remember first entering into this small area to only find a stagnant sign dutifully accompanied by a rope blocking off the velvety blue stairs leading down, telling me and anyone else struck by a similar curiosity that the Islamic exhibit was closed and under repair. One fateful day in February of this year, I veered my head around the corner to the staircase and was delighted to see that the sign and rope were no longer stationed at their posts but instead relieved of their durational guard.

A graphic featuring documentation of a textile work beckons the museum goer down the stairs, assured by a wooden guide rail in their descent. We are faced with an oblong room with dark blue gallery walls and shiny herringbone floors, adorned with glass cases enclosing various Egyptian art objects. Passing through, there are large glass doors leading into a greatly patterned room. I entered the William Morris exhibit, a gorgeous room with a delectable color scheme echoing that of the art that it holds.

Much of the work relied on Morris’ inspiration from art history and from nature, which comes through in floral motifs and organic patterns in his ink-dyed pieces or embroidered works that pull more inspiration from Middle Eastern origin. Through the didactics and the information obtained from the AIC website, it was made clear that Morris and Co sought to foreground specialists and artisans while marketing to a consumer economy, using hand dyed techniques in an era where the efficiency of the machine was all the rage. The piece to the right is an example of one of the artists who designed under the umbrella of Morris and Co and it effectively communicates their call to nature.

I heartily enjoyed visiting this exhibit in the AIC. Fuelled by a youth in domestic/folk art and surrounded by nature, Morris and Co’s mission profoundly resonated with me as an artist. However, I wish that this exhibition (accompanied by the Egyptian exhibit) did not completely overwrite the Islamic section. I was greatly anticipating studying Islamic textiles and calligraphy, and find it suspicious that a British and Egyptian exhibit forcibly took its place. The ethics of completely nixing Islamic art from being on view at the AIC are deplorable, as a colonizing power takes the place of an already misrepresented practice in art history. After all, why wipe out a timeline that had a direct impact on the exhibit being shown in the present?

The museum is a ground that has the power to control history directly. Oftentimes museums and other such institutions hold up notions of white supremacy, eurocentrism, and are overwhelmingly centers of promoting a violently colonial narrative, to which the Art Institute of Chicago is no better. In fact, the AIC glaringly displays a plethora of these aforementioned stains and is an active participant in keeping these traditions alive and well despite thinly shrouded veils of cute support of art nouveau-like designs in Morris and Company: The Business of Beauty.

Despite my critiques of the institution housing it, I implore anyone with access to the Art Institute to visit this pleasant exhibition that will run until the thirteenth of June this year. Morris and Company is an experience that I recommend; I would advise, however, to remain wary of what the AIC as an institution is pushing with promoting a white (and British at that!) man’s company in place of a Muslim art exhibit.

[from-our-boxes]

Jonathan Lanier Interview

by Rea Silvia Emmanouil