Posts Tagged ‘Independent Curators International’

Wild Imaginings: ICA @ 50

August 3 2012

WILD IMAGININGS: ICA @ 50

post by Rachel Pastan

What if you could reorganize the objects in your museum’s collection in a series of poetic interventions, grouping them—not by geography, culture, or era—but rather by their relation to human lived experience, perhaps setting a simple, 12th-century white jade Chinese vase inside an ornate 18th-century French salon?

Images courtesy of the PMA. See below for object information.

Or what if you decided to exhibit one single painting in your gallery—a very famous painting, perhaps—maybe owned by the Louvre—an impulse prompted by the coincidence of your gallery’s recent name change and its proximity to a cemetery? And what if the arrival of this painting was preceded by a series of tangentially related, preparatory experiments?

Or what if you decided to dispense with a formal display of objects altogether and instead created a clearing—a kind of scaffolding—for creative imagining on topics of common interest and concern?

What if you wanted to make a series of exhibitions that celebrated your museum’s history by pulling that history forward and molding into the shape of the present?

What if… what if…

Few people reading this would deny that curators have exciting, creative, stimulating jobs. It’s also true, however, that they operate under a great number of constraints—and here I’m thinking of two in particular: time and money. Money and time.

But what if… What if you didn’t have to worry about money? And what if you suddenly had oceans of time? Given those balmy circumstances, what exhibition might you organize then? What would be the exhibition of your dreams? And how would dreaming up such an exhibition stretch your daily, real world work in new directions?

These were the questions driving a program by the Philadelphia Exhibitions Initiative (PEI), which recently invited six local contemporary art curators to participate in a year-long series of seminars and workshops. Led by the director of Independent Curators International, Kate Fowle, with appearances by special guests from around the world, this Curatorial Intensive offered new perspectives, an exchange of ideas, and a structure for reflection and fantasy.

PEI Curatorial Intensive 2012 in session. Courtesy of ICI.

Earlier this summer, the six—including ICA’s Senior Curator Ingrid Schaffner—came together to present their wild imaginings to each other and an audience of their peers. Most of their projects were focused on their own home institution, almost as though they had all been asked to imagine an exhibition that would poetically express their museum or gallery’s deepest nature. The Philadelphia Museum of Art’s Adelina Vlas, for example, contemplated reorganizing her museum’s historical rooms via a contemporary sensibility, an idea that came to her while walking through them between her far flung office and the rest of the contemporary department. Arcadia University’s Richard Torchia has been dreaming of the gravitational force a painting like Poussin’s “Et in Arcadia ego” might have, drawing tides of passionate audiences out to suburban Glenside. Temple Contemporary’s Rob Blackson talked about how public programming is becoming a new form of exhibition-making, and he seems to be bringing the dream of turning his gallery into a space for conversation and interaction quickly to life.

ICA’s own Ingrid Schaffner took the invitation to dream as an opportunity to consider how to mark ICA’s 50th anniversary, which will—incredibly—be upon us next year. Wary of the dangers of nostalgia and self-congratulation common to such occasions, Ingrid has conceived a series of micro-exhibitions—new presentations based on or inspired by important exhibitions from ICA’s past. In this way the past becomes not a fetish but a springboard, a catalyst, a point of departure. For example, ICA’s exhibition of the work of Agnes Martin might lead to a mini-exhibition of designer Eugene Feldman, whose Falcon Press designed the soulful, unhurried catalogue for Martin’s show in 1973.

1977’s Improbable Furniture might lead to an exhibition of an artist working with furniture forms today. Another presentation might reassemble a few of the talismantic objects from “The Other Tradition,” the tantalizing 1966 exhibition hypothesizing an alternate road to Pop through Surrealism. A giant timeline of ICA exhibitions hangs in Ingrid’s office, studded with constellations of Post-it notes proposing possible projects.

Ingrid’s expansive vision has a place for the points of view not just of ICA curators, whose various handwritings loop across the Post-its, but of friends and collaborators as well. Curators who began their careers at ICA, or guest-curated a show, or came to participate in a public program—how might they see our history? What connections or associations might they make that would never cross our own minds? And what of Penn professors or students, or ICA staff who aren’t professional curators but who swim in the culture of the contemporary in their own ways? Or what if we engaged an artist to work with ICA’s archives to create new work out of this old material?

We haven’t engaged any artists yet, but we have chartered a young curator, Sarah Fritchey, a Masters candidate in curatorial studies at Bard, to spend the summer immersed in the chilly air of Penn’s Rare Book and Manuscript Library, combing through the archives and reporting back on what she finds. Every morning this hot summer she has plunged into the darkness of the unknown like a pearl diver, though with sweater, laptop, and camera rather than greased cotton in her ears and a stone to carry her down. Some of her finds, digitized, will be made public on ICA’s website in a year or so.

Back at PEI, Ingrid, still in dream mode, asks, “What if you started with an empty gallery and then kept filling?”

Ingrid speaking

Courtesy of PEI

She turns to Arcadia’s Richard Torchia. “Your exhibition is a quest,” she says.

Richard smiles. “A crusade,” he suggests.

Maybe all exhibition-making is a quest—a crusade. A journey into the dark in the faith that enlightenment is waiting somewhere.

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PMA image information: European Decorative Arts and Sculpture, Architecture (including fragments), Grand Salon from the Château de Draveil, French c. 1735. Mirrors, carved and gilded oak paneling, and sculpted reliefs . Purchased with Museum funds, 1928 1928-58-1. Cup in the Form of a Flower, Artist/maker unknown, Chinese, Song Dynasty (960-1279). 12th century, Jade (nephrite), 2 x 2 1/2 inches. Gift of the Far Eastern Art Committee in honor of Henry B. Keep, 1978.

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People’s Conference, Part II: Art in Your Own Back Yard

March 9 2012

post by Rachel Pastan

“I’ve taken art to non-art spaces,” Astria Suparak says, “and non-art to art spaces. Before YouTube, when people had much less access to alternative, unconventional, experimental work, I did a lot of shows in places like bars, skating rinks, and living rooms…Some people have called this the rock band model: taking the work to the people, rather than waiting for the people to find to the work.”

Left to right: Andrew Suggs, Nato Thompson, Astria Suparak, and Jens Hoffmann. Photo: William Hidalgo

Astria, curator of the Miller Gallery at Carnegie Mellon University, is the first of the flock of creative, forward-thinking curators to speak at People’s Conference at ICA. They’re here to discuss the variety of relationships art institutions can have with their local neighborhoods, what’s alternative about alternative art spaces, and other issues arising from People’s Biennial, an exhibition organized by Harrell Fletcher and Jens Hoffmann, in collaboration with Independent Curators International (ICI), which looked for art in unconventional places. One of the artists in that show, Warren Hatch, makes nature films of microscopic life he finds in his Portland, Oregon neighborhood. This is a good metaphor for most of the curators here today, whose missions are bound up with the art and artists in their own backyards.

Astria, for example, told us about a show she organized in Syracuse, Embracing Winter, “repositioning winter as an opportunity to view your surroundings in new ways.” Video, installation, and photography were all on view, along with an enormous knitted sculpture of a mitten. A chart on the wall showed area snow fall levels over fifty years. Big piles of sparkling, environmentally sensitive ice melt were arrayed on the floor for people to take, decreasing in proportion to the increase in the snow outside. Perhaps most delightfully, in what Astria called “a reversal of Duchamp’s readymades,” an array of snow shovels was hung on the wall for visitors to borrow as needed—the object returned to its usefulness.

Embracing Winter, curated by Astria Suparak, at Warehouse Gallery, Syracuse University, 2007.

Andrew Suggs, director of Philadelphia’s Vox Populi, recounted how this alternative artist collective was launched (legend has it) at a bar called Dirty Frank’s one night in the late 80s “by a group of art students who were drunk and decided they wanted a place to show their work.” Andrew raised useful questions about the world alternative, for instance: An alternative to what? He quoted curator Lia Gangitano who wrote, “While some of us continue (perhaps out of respect) to use terms such as ‘alternative space’…it’s not clear anymore what, exactly, we mean.”

The biggest institution heard from was the Queens Museum of Art whose director, Tom Finkelpearl, gave an eloquent overview of how his museum—located in a borough where 47.6% of the residents are foreign born—serves, woos, and otherwise engages with its community. Art exhibitions, usually with some tie to the area, are an important part of the program, but so are local community festivals that offer cultural celebration along with access to social services. The museum staff speaks eight languages. “Our goal is to be the most community-engaged museum in America, without giving up on the complex contemporary art practices,” Tom declares. “We may be outside of the mainstream of the art world, but we’re not outsider artists.”

Photo: William Hidalgo

A third model for combining art and community was presented by Ruthie Stringer and Dana Bishop-Root of Transformazium, a small artists collective working in Braddock, Pennsylvania, outside of Pittsburgh. The young members of Transformazium originally moved to Braddock from New York City on a wave of optimism, largely because a lovely old building was available for sale very cheap. Part of the building, however, turned out to be uninhabitable and had to be deconstructed, a huge undertaking that Transformazium approached in the spirit of an art project. Once settled in the community, the artists worked hard to develop good relationships with their neighbors, seeking creative ways to kindle meaningful conversations. One program they dreamed up paired artists with Braddock youth to create site specific installations in the kids’ neighborhoods. A screen printing shop was opened, and an artist-in-residency program begun—all on the proverbial shoestring.

Jim Kidd, Resident Artist in Residence, and Leslie Stem, Transformazium at the Neighborhood Print Shop

Which brings us to the crucial, interesting, and often uncomfortable question of money. At about this point in the conversation, an audience member called out, “Who gets paid? Where does the money come from?” I was relieved, having been wondering about this myself.

In this realm, too, many models were represented. Transformazium members, for example, have day jobs, get small grants, collaborate with established non-profits like the local library, and sell art when they can, plowing the proceeds back into their project. The Queens Museum, by contrast, is largely foundation funded. Tom Finkelpearl went right to the heart of the issue when he said, “Can you remain idealistic and true to your goals if you take money from foundations and corporations? That’s the challenge. But it’s important to have health insurance for your employees.”

So many important, awkward, interesting questions raised over the course of one day! Not just Where does the money come from? and An alternative to what? but also, What if you’re somewhere there’s nothing you’re an alternative to? What happens when social practices are framed in terms of artistic production? Could it be an advantage to a curator to be untrained? Have we moved beyond the provocation of Duchamp’s urinal?

Coincidentally, I was in the Philadelphia Museum of Art last weekend and happened upon Duchamp’s “Fountain” sitting placidly in a bright room at the end of a hallway. A man was showing friends the gallery. One of the women, after looking around, turned to the man. “But is it art?” she said.

I confess I felt a little thrill. My guess is that object is not quite ready to be returned to the restroom yet.

Marcel Duchamp, Fountain, 1917

Marcel Duchamp, Fountain, 1917

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People’s Biennial & Conference (part I): Looking for art on the road in America

March 2 2012

post by Rachel Pastan

“I come from a farming background,” Harrell Fletcher says. “My sense is that it’s better not to have a monoculture.”

At Haverford

Harrell on the right looking thoughtful. Photo: Lisa Boughter

Harrell, an artist known for his socially engaged, interdisciplinary projects, is talking about the art world. He and curator Jens Hoffmann are at ICA for People’s Conference, a two-day event growing out of People’s Biennial, an exhibition curated by Harrell and Jens that looks at art made outside the art world’s center of gravity. In collaboration with Independent Curators International (ICI), the two men traveled to five cities across the country, spreading the word through local community art centers, and galleries, and the radio, and fliers distributed by students on bicycles, that they were looking for art by anyone making things. They invited the public to bring their work to local gymnasiums; they drove around city streets looking for interesting objects in storefronts; they were invited into people’s kitchens. And in the end, they choose works by 36 artists for an exhibition that traveled to each of those five communities—a kind of snapshot of creativity across America.

Figueroa photograph

Jorge Figueroa, Untitled, 2007

Here are some of the things that are in People’s Biennial: Black and white paintings of neighborhoods that look, at first glance, like photographs. Videos of microscopic backyard life. A series of photographs of riders at the rodeo, and another series documenting life on a South Dakota military base. A battle scene made in Lego. Family portraits painted on cross sections of tree trunks. Soap sculptures. (“We joked about finding a soap carver,” Harrell said, “and then we did.”)

Peterson soap carving of soap dish

Bernie Peterson, Soap Carvings: soap dish, 1983–1994. Soap.

Bernie Peterson, the soap sculptor, was among the artists represented here who wasn’t interested in selling his work, even when the offering price was raised several times. The artists wrote their own wall text and catalogue notes, and judging from those, as well as from reports from the curators, they’re a diverse group who came to the project with a wide range of motivations. Some considered the biennial a delightful but singular event in lives that were focused elsewhere; others were glad to use the opportunity as a stepping stone to a more mainstream art career.

Tupac portrait

Robert Smith-Shabazz, Tupac, 2007. Watercolor on carved wood.

And what of the motivations of the curators?

“To highlight these other practices that exist and might otherwise slip through the cracks,” Harrell said. “Questioning the roles of curator and artist,” Jens said. “I’ve had this sense that in the art world there’s this homogenized quality,” Harrell said. “Our departure point for the project was certainly some issues we had with the world of art…how certain structures or codes are created and how we break through them,” Jens said. “You don’t need to be trained as a professional to be an artist,” Harrell said. “That’s one of the things I think is super exciting about art.”

Of course, all art institutions wrestle with these issues, sometimes in ways quite similar to the People’s Biennial project and other times in different ways. Most of the curators I’ve met, both at ICA and elsewhere, feel it’s their job to look broadly, to travel, to talk to artists about what they’re excited about, to constantly test the boundaries of what’s considered art, bringing a steady stream of the new and strange into the galleries along with more traditional work.

At one point on Friday night, Harrell talked about how, after he got his MFA, he felt he had lost something important to him: some feeling about or attitude toward art that he had had before he was trained. He was interested, then, in looking at what untrained artists were doing—and, I think, at how they were feeling about their work as well.

Lego battle

Dennis Newell, Lego Battle with Droids and Clones, 2010. Legos and lights.

Obviously there is joy in making art that people see, that you get paid for, that gets written about in magazines. Is there also a different kind of joy in making art without the spectral art world lurking around at the edges of your consciousness, rattling its chains like a Victorian ghost? That, I think, is one of the questions the exhibition explores. Though of course, one might equally well contrast the discomfort of making art inside the system with the melancholia of laboring outside of it.

At the conference

Photo: C.J. Morrison

Jens and Harrell on their journey remind me of Huck Finn lighting out for the territories, of Steinbeck traveling the country with his dog Charley, of Kerouac’s Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty on the road. Whether or not you agree with the audience member last week who called curators’ journey a Quixotic quest, how deeply American to take to the highway in search of something authentic, joyful, and surprising.

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People’s Biennial is a traveling exhibition organized by Independent Curators International (ICI), New York. Guest curators for the exhibition are Harrell Fletcher and Jens Hoffmann. The exhibition, tour, and catalogue are made possible in part by a grant from The Elizabeth Firestone Graham Foundation, The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, The Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation, and The Cowles Charitable Trust; the ICI Board of Trustees; and ICI Benefactors Barbara and John Robinson.

To learn more about People’s Biennial, click here. To order the catalogue, click here.

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