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[mnorian]

Oftentimes, the only widely-known artists who have come out of the graffiti/street art scene are people who stand to lose the least from participating in that culture, successful artists like Banksy or Shepard Fairey whose status as white, well-off men have granted them unique privileges and the ability to be seen as more highbrow than the rest of the art scene from which they come out. That’s why I think it’s important to acknowledge people like Lady Pink, a woman who was a deep, authentic part of the graffiti subculture before she began to be recognized for her artistry. Born in Ecuador and raised in New York City, she was one of the first women to be prominent in street art culture in the 1980s and made herself an icon of the culture through her originality, tagging subway trains and participating in an art form that is characterized by its temporality and riskiness. At a young age in 1980 her art was shown in an exhibition focused on graffiti as an art form, a show that brought it into the spotlight as something to be taken seriously and began to change the image of graffiti as mere vandalism into a unique, innovative and culturally important art form. Having become acknowledged in the contemporary fine art world and moved to the more traditional form of artmaking of painting canvases, Lady Pink nevertheless honors her roots as a graffiti artist and stays true to the attitudes that made her such an important figure in street art.

[mnorian]

I have been thinking a lot about the way art and technology interact and will continue to interact going into the future. Virtual reality as a medium has been making waves in the video game industry, but it has a lot of potential for contemporary art, too. Television revolutionized the art scene at the time with the introduction of video art, and the advent of the internet has contributed hugely to a more globalized and interconnected art world, and provided endless possibilities for interactive art. Virtual reality is still in its early stages in the grand scheme of things, but already we’re seeing a lot of impressive, immersive things come out of it. Reading this article, I also wondered about the boundary between arts and entertainment.  On Jon Rafman’s Junior Suite, a VR piece in which the viewer sees a hotel room like the one they are standing in in real life dissolve and fall away, Molly Gottschalk writes that “Some screamed thrillride, others masterpiece.” The graphic, design-heavy nature of VR presents a question of what constitutes art or entertainment media in a way that is unique from previous technological innovations. I think there is a huge potential for contemporary artists going forward to explore themes of reality vs. unreality in the most fitting medium available to us, one that very literally distorts the viewer’s (or player’s) perception of the world, as well as exploring the boundaries of what is possible with VR technology in order to push something from simply being classified as a video game into being classified as fine art.

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Something to think about when talking about political vs. apolitical art is how the term “political” is applied to certain artists because of the position they hold in society, regardless of the work they make. In this video, Shirin Neshat gives a TEDtalk about the irony of her being an artist representative of her culture while being unable to live in the culture in which she grew up. Neshat says,“Politics don’t seem to escape people like me. Every Iranian artist in one form or another is political. Politics have defined our lives.” People experiencing many different forms of marginalization—in Neshat’s case, as she explains, the experience of being an Iranian woman artist living in exile—do not have the freedom of creating work that relates to their own understanding of life without being marked off as “political artists” in the way that people with more powerful positions in society have. People like Neshat have the unique difficulty of figuring out how to be critical of the Western society in which they live that discriminates against them, while also speaking out against the governments ruling over areas from which they came. Neshat’s increasingly critical actions and words about Iran forced her to live in exile or face a very real and tangible danger, as she had made herself a threat to the government. In her work now she seeks to combat the image of Iran that the West has as only the country as it is now since the Islamic Revolution, and not the democratic country it was before. She makes work in a distinctly feminine way so as to honor the strength of Iranian women who have been consistently challenging the restraints put upon them, exploring the idea of the female gaze.

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When reading about art and the body for class, I thought this was a really cool piece. Huan uses his body in his performance pieces in ways that subject him to a range of uncomfortable, even violent situations; endurance art pieces are characteristic of his work but are used to achieve a variety of themes. My America (Hard to Acclimatize) is a piece that is less physically demanding than some of his others but suggests violence in an equally powerful way. The piece, which involves him sitting still as rows of people throw food at him, serves as a representation of his inability to feel a sense of belonging in America as a Chinese American. Reading about Zhang’s other works makes this one feel almost gentle by comparison; not all of his work is performance based, but he is known for grueling performance pieces in which he subjects himself to various bodily discomforts. These are often durational in nature, too. In his 1994 work 12 square meters, Zhang sat in a filthy public toilet stall that size for an hour, covered in “some foul-smelling substance and honey.” Flies gathered on him as he sat before finally dunking himself in water at the end of the piece to remove them. 

While he mainly uses himself as the subject of his work, he has also had other people participate using their bodies as a medium. When browsing his work, especially performance work, throughout his career, it’s interesting to note how the themes he deals with changed as he transitioned from living in China to living in the U.S.

Our textbook mentions the word “corporeal” which means separating body from spirit through  a tangible visualization. By challenging the differences between physical and spirit we are forced more to think about how the physical world affects us. Zhang, in the instance of “My America (Hard to Acclimatize)” performs corporeal performance art by staging what would become a picture in our textbook. The actual performance was a crowd of people formed around him to throw bread at only Zhang, as he is surrounded by forces of food being thrown onto him. This idea lets me visualize forces pushing against Zhang, the background for this was how he felt out of place as an immigrant and his helplessness is illustrated in never quite belonging. The food can represent any adversity he might face because of his physical appearance and how it might often seem like the world is against him. This piece to me illustrates the everyday anxieties of feeling like the world is against you. I am able to take that paranoia and think how miserable it might feel sometimes to feel like you don’t belong because of your appearance or to have other norms pushed onto your reputation because one is not white. He uses his identity as subject, as object, and as conceptual art to illustrate how his alienation feels. 

[mnorian]

My position is that serious and good art has always existed to help, to serve, humanity. Not to indict. I don’t see how art can be called art if its purpose is to frustrate humanity. To make humanity uncomfortable, yes. But intrinsically to be against humanity, that I don’t take.

Chinua Achebe, The Art of Fiction n°139

I saw this quote by Chinua Achebe and thought it related somewhat to the issue of relational aesthetics that we discussed in class and the different assertions art critics and art historians have about the social purposes and ethics of artmaking. This sentiment is something I agree with, and while I don’t think it’s one that either Claire Bishop or Grant Kester would disagree with outright (Bishop is encouraging of “uncomfortable art,” while Kester seems to believe that art has an ethical responsibility), I think it would fall more in Kester’s “camp.” Kester wrote that “For Bishop, art can only become legitimately ‘political’ only indirectly, by exposing the limits and contradictions of political discourse itself.” Another quote by Achebe is what leads me to believe that he and Bishop’s view of art ethics would be in opposition: “Those who tell you ‘Do not put too much politics in your art’ are not being honest. If you look very carefully you will see that they are the same people who are quite happy with the situation as it is. And what they are saying is not don’t introduce politics. What they are saying is don’t upset the system. They are just as political as any of us. It’s only that they are on the other side.” I have to agree with Achebe’s perspective, as the definition of the term “politics” can be stretched so far by those with their own agenda against political art. I don’t believe that artworks that can be used against the most vulnerable in a society contribute something productive enough in the contemporary art world to outweigh their negative impacts.

[mnorian]

When learning about Tracey Emin’s My Bed, I always thought it was interesting that it caused as much of a controversy as it did at the time of its creation. It was only 17 years ago that it was first shown at the Tate, but I don’t think the reaction to it would be one of as much shock if Emin had only created it now, perhaps because we are more unfazed by abject and grotesque art now than ever before. While looking up the piece, I found that art critics have vastly differing opinions on the power it holds today, if any—some think that it does not have the impact it had in 1999, that it is symbolic of a specific moment in time and unable to be related to in the same way now. However, though the piece may not have the same kind of power, it still feels intensely relatable to me. Because of the realness of the objects that make up the work, it’s effective in evoking a really strong sense of despair through its squalor in a way that is recognizable even if your own bed looks nothing like Emin’s did in 1999. The video above features Emin talking about the work now and about the 2015 show in which it was shown for the first time alongside works by Francis Bacon and Emin herself. It’s interesting to see how such a deeply personal piece affects the artist who made it even years later; because the emotion associated with the bed was so powerful, it still takes an emotional toll on Emin.

[mnorian]

The Biennial Foundation website’s map of biennials around the world is definitely a great resource and it really opened my eyes to just how huge and global the contemporary art scene is. While the amount of biennials and the prestige associated with them tends to skew in favor of Europe, it’s still interesting to see just how many others exist, and to think about how many more are probably to come, given how recent many of the existing ones are. These are just three, picked at random, but there are so many more.

Kochi-Muziris Biennale in Kerala, India: The Kochi-Muziris Bienniale in south India was the country’s first ever art biennial, created in 2012. It was an ambitious project as nothing like it had existed previously to build off of. It focuses primarily but not exclusively on Indian artists and aims to celebrate cultural pluralism in India and provide a space for contemporary Indian artists to create work that does not have to be highly marketable in order to be recognized.

International Biennial of Cuenca in Ecuador: One of several large art events in Latin America, the Cuenca Biennial has been working since its earliest iteration in 1987 to become more inclusive of a wide variety of arts to reflect the growing worlds of contemporary art. Rather than just holding an event every other year, they also provide educational programs continuously to teach the public about art.

Kampala Art Biennale in Uganda: The Kampala Art Bienniale was created to start a conversation about the importance of the arts in Uganda, as well as to create more of a market for art and establish Uganda as a viable destination for art tourism. It’s described on the biennial foundation website as being “afro-centric in nature in that it seeks to promote only artists (foreign or native) working on the African continent by creating a vibrant and visible platform.”

[mnorian]

I know I’ve talked about it before on this blog, but I’m really interested in art that explores relationships between visual art and music or sound. Usually the only obvious solution to the problem of how to merge the two is through video art or animation, but it’s always exciting to find out about artists who are thinking about it in more unconventional ways. In the case of Zeena Parkins’ project, the visual craft art of lace is “translated” into music. I thought it was especially interesting, as she is a harpist, that besides the fabricated connection she creates to convert the lace into music, there is a material connection between the thread in lace and the strings of a harp. Parkins creates a detailed code for the patterns in fragments of lace that she collects, relating each particular visual element to a musical one. Sections are assigned to different instruments and she performs the compositions created by lace with an ensemble. I noticed that the process of creating a kind of code to relate art or music to something else was reminiscent of John Cage’s work, who did this with hexagrams determined by chance with both visual art and sound, and which Parkins does with lace, a material that is precise and predefined. Unfortunately, I could not find any of the lace compositions available to listen to as of right now, although that may change. I will be interested to find them if they become available and hear what lace sounds like.

[mnorian]

In the second half of the 20th century, a huge movement of women artists creating art that was both conceptual and feminist in nature arose. One overlap in the concerns of these two camps is the issue of labor and maintenance. Postmodernism was concerned with the concepts of consumerism and commodities and examining the capitalist ideologies celebrated during modernity. Feminist artists like Mierle Laderman Ukeles explored the idea of labor and the maintenance performed that are necessary to uphold the societal ideals embraced in the modern period, and she deliberately expanded the definition of labor to include what is commonly seen as “domestic” or “woman’s work.”

The idea of “private” matters being brought into or directly related to the public was also a concern in both camps. Mary Kelly’s Post-partum documents, for instance, took what is typically an invisible part of many women’s life and something regarded as inherently private and put it in the context of a set of detailed, impersonal documents that would be brought into the public realm. The blurring of the line between what is personal and what is appropriate for the public is in line with postmodern schools of thought.

I think that another example is the creation of an alternate world with its own norms through art.  Molesworth talks about the “laboratory situation” in postmodern and conceptual art, and states that the feminist artists discussed take it further by envisioning different kinds of utopias, in a way that is different from past, idealist imaginings of the concept.

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This is a really good video from the Tate Gallery’s youtube channel about Nigerian American artist Njideka Akunyili and the ways in which navigating multiple facets of her identity and cultures she belongs to affect her practice as an artist. She uses paint and dry media integrated seamlessly with collage in her work, drawing stylistic influence from Western traditions of painting alongside Nigerian textiles. Her paintings are unambiguously personal in nature and she uses family and people from her own life as subjects, selecting imagery from old photographs and elements like flora, architecture, and clothing from both Western and African cultures. The juxtaposition of these contrasting elements suggests a sense of confusion in her work; she unifies them successfully in order to make this very subtle, but it is this visual dissonance that reflects the sense of nostalgia and complexity of identity that Akunyili experiences as someone living in such a different culture than the one in which she grew up. I think that nostalgia can be a very powerful tool in artmaking, even when it is executed in a way that is so personal and specific to the artist, because the feeling itself is so universal and has so much power when communicated successfully.

I definitely recommend checking out the other videos on this channel. They have a lot of really interesting talks from contemporary artists and do a pretty good job of giving women artists and/or artists of color the platform on which to talk about their work.

[mnorian]

4 characteristics of biennials and the impact they have on the way contemporary artists work:

Biennials are largely location-specific and give local artists a space in which to exhibit their work. Some biennials may give artists from around the world a place to show their art, but many are region-based and focus on giving local artists a platform.

They provide visibility for artists on a global scale that would not be possible through typical Western art institutions. Biennials ae internationally recognized and allow artists with less access to art institutions, such as artists from the global south, to have the opportunity to have their work acknowledged in international contemporary art circles.

They are distinctly contemporary and often determine the movement of contemporary art. Biennials influence trends in current art and the work shown at a biennial from one part of the world could have an impact on artists working in another part.

As a temporary space, a biennial is somewhat more accessible to certain types of artists trying to show their work. Larger-scale art, performance art or more conceptual work that moves away from the idea of the art object and is characteristic of contemporary art is harder to get into a museum collection. Biennials provide a space for artists to create and show this kind of art without an institution committing to owning that work.

Because of these characteristics, artists have more freedom when creating work for a biennial than they might when attempting to become a part of a more traditional institution. Limits on the artists themselves such as location or the lack of a pre-existing reputation within art institutions, and limits on the scale and concept of the kinds of art they can produce due to a need for marketability are not as heavily restrictive with biennials.

[mnorian]

In honor of Trans Day of Remembrance that took place 2 days ago (11/20), I thought I would make a post about one of the most iconic trans artists in the contemporary art scene today, Juliana Huxtable. Raised in a conservative town, she endured racialized and gendered violence growing up before moving to New York and gaining the freedom to be able to embrace her identity. She DJ’d and wrote poetry in addition to working for the ACLU for some time until beginning to work as a model. She made her way into the world of contemporary art in New York gradually; as a black trans woman, she sits at the intersection of some of the most marginalized identities in the U.S., and provides a unique perspective to the still overwhelmingly white and cisnormative reality of the contemporary art world. It was at the New Museum Triennial that Huxtable was featured as both artist and subject. The exhibition showcased her poetry and photographic work alongside Frank Benson’s futuristic, life-sized sculpture of her, a piece that deals directly with the concept of the Gaze in art and how it relates to Huxtable’s identity as a black trans woman. Huxtable works with performance art in addition to writing and visual art and has contributed to discussions involving queer art, black art, and transgender experiences, creating artwork that calls attention to various axes of oppression she faces while “indicating alternate, more hopeful possibilities” (Guggenheim). She’s one of the most influential LGBT artists of this generation and her ability to thrive in the art world is in itself an inspiring example for young artists who face similar struggles to look up to.

[mnorian]

I thought it would be a good idea to share this list, a pretty cool resource for all kinds of art-related podcasts, some about contemporary art, some not. I can’t say very much without having had a chance yet to listen to them, but the list covers a huge range of topics, including women in art history, the science of color, courtroom sketching, animation, economics in the art world, etc., and even the episodes that don’t directly deal with contemporary art seem like they could be useful in discussions involving it. I went through the list and picked out the episodes that seem to relate the most to the international contemporary art world as we know it.

99% Invisible: “Photo Credit” – about the art historical importance of Bauhaus, and other notable instances of architecture and design, as well as the intersection of architecture and photography and the tricky questions of ownership and authorship at this intersection.

Raw Material: “The Vessel” – focuses on the subject of “the unknown” in modern and contemporary art, and the role that mysticism and spiritual themes play.

Sidedoor: “Tech Yourself” – explores the relationship we have to technology and the role it plays in art, such as video art, which could not exist prior to modernity.

The Urbanist: “The Museums That Make Us” – examines the role of art museums and institutions in society and the impact they have on the culture they are a part of, and the ways in which they create a sense of location-based identity.

Planet Money: “Why a Dead Shark Costs $12 Million” – looks at the art market and the commodification of and value assigned to artworks.

American Icons: “The Vietnam Veterans Memorial” and BackStory: “Monumental Disagreements” – I’m listing these two together because they both deal with the issues surrounding public art, and the ways in which it can be used as a tool for either activism or control over marginalized groups. These stuck out to me amongst the others because of how directly related they appear to be to the essay on public and community-based art we read by Miwon Kwon.

[mnorian]

This video is interesting in a lot of ways. The mechanical stiffness, lifeless expressions and monotone voices of the two women turn into direct confrontation at the end of this video—before that point, the viewer is just the spectator of a strange scene, uncomfortable initially in its stillness and lack of emotion and then made more so with equally dispassionate words of violence. Then, for a moment, the viewer is called out for their voyeurism by one of the women, interrupting their roles as objects to be gazed at before she is distracted again by more words of violence. A. L. Steiner states that “their syncopated exchanges oscillate from hateful to loving, blurring the distinction between lover and enemy - a position that both women seem to share. The two characters prepare each other for a larger, more dangerous culture of intolerance and violence, occupying multiple roles and preparing on all fronts as they appropriate and enact the fetishistic language of sex ads, assault the spectator, antagonize (“read”) each other, and ultimately regain their agency.” From what I could tell from reading about her, A. L. Steiner’s relationship to gender is fluid and her queerness directly influences her work; however, being as she herself is not a target of the transmisogyny to which attention is called in the film, I would be interested in reading Zackary Drucker or Van Barnes’ (the two actresses in the film) or another trans woman’s thoughts on the piece.

As for Steiner’s other works, she deals with themes related to the “inherently political” nature of her own identity as an androgynous lesbian and other queer identities, sexuality, and womanhood, as well as questions about what kinds of photography can be considered works of art, using “snapshot” type photos to create large-scale collages that undoubtedly have an artistic presence. She collaborates with other artists and filmmakers often, including Zackary Drucker from the film above, and primarily works in the mediums of photography and video art.

This reminds me of Andy Warhol prominent early films but with a more  “grotesque “ reaction of sorts .While searching the internet.my eye visually was stimulated by the works of A.L Steiner.Her works are based around  gay and eco-feminist themes.I was drawn upon her works because I did not understand how to  react to them nor at times I wasn’t sure what I was looking at .Clearly, I can see a sense a freedom and clever use of photography.Each photo shot differently with  nothing that ties a specific trait or hallmark.Her works work best as a whole such like the one below.A.l Steiner is also known for installation pieces  as well as photographs like the ones below and even videos like the one linked above.She is very diverse in the ways she  pursues her art.

I ask you guys,to please take a look at her stuff and especially the video above and tell me what you think about it,let us get a conversation going and see where this goes.

[mnorian]

Globalization is a product of the late 20th century expanding into today and a key characteristic of contemporary art. Art & Today states that the end of the Cold War was a main force behind globalization. Parts of eastern Europe that were previously under isolationist practices that separated them from Western Europe and North America, where most of what constituted the art world prior to the end of the war had been drawn from. The development of global communication networks, especially the Internet, has played a huge part in globalization. Communication across any number of areas is now instantaneous and the ability of the masses to contribute to global media through the web rather than it being determined to the same degree by higher institutions has made it possible for a much larger range of voices to be known. There has also been an increase in migration in the later part of the 20th century that contributes to diversifying cultures within an area and connecting those cultures to geographically distant parts of the world. 

Countless contemporary artists respond to the reality of globalization in their work. Julie Mehretu’s abstract work is expressive but distinctly contemporary. Many of the gestures and symbols she uses in her work are reminiscent of those present in maps and political diagrams, suggesting a global interconnectedness as well as specific events or products of globalization. Her pieces are intensely layered and complex, a formal element that creates a sense of abundance.

Julie Mehretu, Stadia I, 2004

Walid Raad’s work serves as a reminder of the unreliability of information even in an era of globalization. With his creation of the Atlas Group, a collection of fictitious Lebanese historical resources, he emphasizes the idea that regardless of the development of instantaneous communication and information contribution around the world, there is still the possibility of false documents and data that seem real.

Walid Raad, from My Neck is Thinner than a Hair: Engines, 2000-3

Yinka Shonibare is interested the effects of colonialism in a postcolonial world, juxtaposing Victorian British imagery with textiles perceived to be African in origin when in reality they were fabricated by the British Empire. He explores the relationship between the colonizer and the colonized, and the dehumanization of the “other” that is simultaneous with an invented basis for assimilation.

Yinka Shonibare, MBE ,The Swing (after Fragonard), 2001

[mnorian]

I thought this article was an interesting read. It’s been strange and unnerving to think about what the future holds in terms of a global growing tolerance for the white supremacist attitudes of the alt-right. I hadn’t begun to think about the role contemporary art will play until reading this, but Caroline Woolard gives a lot of insight into the potential for art as activism in the coming years, within what is known as a “solidarity economy.” Woolard writes that “the solidarity economy is a system that places people before profit,” a system that seems to be in opposition to the commodification of art that we see in spaces such as art fairs. However, Woolard notes that the people involved in systems like this must be able to create them on their own terms, rather than being seen as simply an alternative to the “standard” kinds of art communities and institutions. She emphasizes that many of the artists involved in this kind of work do not enter the art world in a traditional sense, and do not have to do so in order to make meaningful work.

She lists four of many art collectives engaged in the kind of social activism that could be more vital than ever:

Urban Bush Women, a dance company that focuses on marginalization “from a woman-centered perspective and as members of the African Diaspora community in order to create a more equitable balance of power in the dance world and beyond.” They hold classes on dance as well as workshops on issues of various aspects of social justice.

Ultra-Red, a collective of sound artists and electronic musicians, founded by HIV/AIDS activists and still working today to address issues like “the struggles of migration, anti-racism, participatory community development, and the politics of HIV/AIDS.”

Canaries, a group of women and gender non-conforming people dealing with chronic illness, examining the link between human value and productivity in a neoliberal society, and the ways in which that link harms people who are not physically able to meet that standard of productivity.

The Design Studio for Social Intervention, which deals with the ways in which analogies and symbolism have been embedded into our culture and language that shape our notions of a given issue. They do work involving the subversion and repurposing of such symbols to frame the things that uphold oppression in a new light.

(The Design Studio for Social Intervention’s website seems to be down, so this is a link to a different page about the collective; all other groups are linked in the article above.)

[mnorian]

Even as I learn more about modern and contemporary art and methods of understanding and discussing work that has come out of relatively recent years, Yves Klein’s development of the color he called International Klein Blue has always mystified me. I can understand that it’s not necessarily just the hue, but the qualities of the medium the pigment is suspended in that make IKB special, as well as the unique, grandiose ways Klein used the color in his work. However, I’m not sure I’ll ever truly be able to understand what makes the color more extraordinary than any other. It’s certainly unique in its vibrancy, and I imagine that a great deal of its effect is lost in translation when viewed in a print photograph or on a computer screen. But I don’t know exactly what makes it different from any neon color, or why the specific shade of ultramarine is purported to have such a greater impact than say, a hue that was shifted a few shades towards violet or green. It may just be descriptor of a “new” color that throws me off when reading about Klein’s IKB and similar discoveries, like the color called “YInMn Blue” found accidentally by chemist Mas Subramanian and his team (link). If our perception of a certain color is dependent on the amount and type of light directed at it, doesn’t every hue possible for us to see already exist? Similar to Klein’s patented color, YInMn blue’s uniqueness is due to its chemical makeup and material form, so the claims of “new colors” are likely just misnomers intended to capture our interest. However, despite my bemusement at the import of IKB, I would still like to see one of Klein’s pieces using the color in person, in the hopes that I might finally “get it.”

Yves Klein is an artist who claims ownership of one color, International Klein Blue. His work is very much centered around the human body. He’s one of the artists who acts as a foundation for contemporary art. Works like his blue Venus are marked as precursors to common themes in pop art. His central idea is most profound. “ He reported that, at the age of nineteen, he looked up at the sky and realized the infinite, immaterial space surrounding the universe. To depict his vision, he chose to use only one color, a vibrant shade of ultramarine, which he later perfected for use with the aid of chemists.” I look up to artists like Yves Klein so much. It can be frustrating to study artists, when I’m still figuring out how to be my own artist. It’s strange to have this notion of “It’s been done before” cloud the development of ideas. At the same time, inspiration is inevitable in a situation like this. I have to wonder what my central core idea is. What do I feel so compelled to take ownership of and fully embrace in order to direct my creative vision? There is a particular shade of pink that I particularly enjoy, but it seems harder to perceive why I’m so enamored by it when it’s so obvious why we’d be entranced by the deep blue sky.