Revisiting the MoCP

Last week in class we again took a trip down to the Museum of Contemporary Photography to view the "Crime Unseen" exhibit. While I am not always blown away by the shows the MoCP puts on, I found "Crime Unseen" to be a clever premise for an exhibition which presented the viewer with a collection of work that was both connected by a cohesive theme, but also different enough where each artist in the show brought something different to the table.
Opening with Angela Strassheim's work was a strong decision both on part of the gallery as well as out tour guide. I feel Strassheim's photos most directly epitomize the the theme of the show. How does one photograph something that was unseen? This question could be posed towards any of the particular installations of the show, as well as the artists themselves. Strassheim's photos took the most direct and logical approach - you use forensic science to reveal hidden spray patterns from murder scenes long since committed. I was really impressed with the amount of effort it took to get the shots in the first place, which only enhanced the work's value in conjunction with the striking visuals. They are strong in their simplicity, but I wish there was a little something else going on in the images to make the images stand apart from one another a little more, but I imagine that's not the point of this project.
I personally found Christian Patterson's work (which we viewed second) to be really engaging. This is probably because I find a lot in common with my interests in photography. The idea of documenting the supposed tale of an urban legend to find out how much is true and how much is fiction is an interesting thing - especially when you begin to question where the line between fiction and reality really is. I think his work had good variety, though there were a few jarring differences. I was not entirely sure why he selected certain images to be black and white while others relied heavily on color, and I was also not particularly a fan of his "house of cards" image. I think in the context of the rest of the show it did not fit particularly well, though the metaphor is obvious.
Krista Wortendyke's photos on the top floor of the museum were certainly a unique study of not only crime in the city of Chicago, but the effects of seasonal events such as holidays on the human psyche. Everyone knows the winter holidays cause everyone a whole lot of stress, but it is interesting to see how homicide rates spike around that time of year. This project was conceptually very strong, but visually I was left feeling underwhelmed and a little confused at certain points. I did not care for how all the images seem to have been shot in spring or early fall, none of them having any of the visual cues of it being December in Chicago. I would have found it much more compelling to see the scene as it would have been on that specific day one year later. I was a little confused as to the random smattering of landscape-oriented pictures throughout the graph as well. Perhaps if there was a reason behind doing so it would make more sense, but seemingly without reason it is visually disruptive to the overall flow of the timeline.
All criticisms aside, I feel that this show is a valuable and successful accomplishment for the MoCP to check off it's to-do list. I feel this has been one of the more creative and well executed shows the museum has done in recent years, and would like to see what they come up with next.

The Art Institute pt. 2

Our most recent trip to the Art Institute was two fold - Our main goal was to view the works of Timothy O'Sullivan, but first we were treated to a behind the scenes discussion with the Art Institute's head of photographic conservation Getting to go into the underground headquarters of what is arguably Chicago's best collection of photographs was pretty exciting, and seeing some of the prints unmasked and on display was equally interesting. I will say our host was...informative. Although not the most riveting speaker, I felt that I learned a great deal about what it actually means to work for a museum, and the challenges photo conservators face when dealing with unstable chemical processes from many different eras in photography's history. I knew old prints were notoriously fragile, but I had no idea how vulnerable old photos are to not only their chemical make up, but also the things touching the photograph and the environment it is stored in as well. It did surprise me even more to know that c-prints prints from the early color era were the least stable of all existent photographic media. I was also relieved to find out that my digital inkjet prints are not nearly as fragile as what photographers faced in the old days.
Getting the chance to actually step behind closed doors and explore the real inner workings of the conservators' workspace was a pretty unique experience as well. Seeing all the time and effort put into preserving pieces of photographic art, both in house and on the road, really makes you think about how important institutions like art museums are to global culture, history, and education. It makes you realize that art is not merely an expression of inner vision or aesthetic beauty, but a means of preserving ideas for future generations. It takes a lot of effort to keep cultural history alive, and its good to know that so many people are still dedicated to making sure our children's children will be able to see these same photos long after we are gone.

I feel our talk with the conservator was a good preparation exercise for viewing the O'Sullivan prints. I know for me, the lecture allowed me to view the entire exhibition in terms of how the art conservators at the museum want it to be experienced. Its not as easy as just acquiring some work and hanging it on a wall. A lot of thought goes into how particular work is shown. The bit I found very interesting is how many modern art scholars are attempting to bring photography to a museum setting while still retaining the original "essence" of the work. For example, rather than making O'Sullivan's work out to be fine art, they presented it with maps, surveys, and detailed background information - exactly how it would have been seen and experienced by lawmakers who were seeing the western survey books for the first time. This same background information also helped me to appreciate the work to a greater degree. I personally am not crazy about natural landscape shots. However in the context of the time period the photos were shot in, it makes you realize how incredibly difficult it must have been to make it back to civilization with prints of that quality. O'Sullivan working out of a wagon with highly unstable materials in the middle of the high sierras, yet was able to come out with gorgeous, clean glass plate negatives and 3D stereoscopic prints. And although he was simply told to take survey pictures, they have an artistic flair and general curiosity that would be hard to find in any era, much less in a time just after photography was born.

How to Properly Judge Others, and My Visit to the Filter Photo Festival

In the last reading, Barrett approaches a rather amorphous topic - the formal points of how to judge art (in this case, photography). Reading it reminded me in many ways of logic proofs from back in Quantitative Literacy. It doesn't seem like there should be a "right" answer, but there is a rhyme and reason to properly evaluating works of art. When you dissect the process, even the most harshly opinionated art critic follows a certain formula.
Early on Barrett establishes the idea that judgment is different from a criticism, in that judging is the act of evaluating a work based on various criteria to determine it's worth. Since the value of art is always subjective to the eye of the viewer, the attempt to establish a kind of "fairness factor" to all pieces of art. These are fairly neutral questions that one can apply to any piece of art, such as questioning it's cultural relevance, difficulty level, and of course visual appeal. These are the sorts of things a good critic will always abide by for every piece they evaluate.
The variable that changes most dramatically from critic to critic is their own personal interpretation of a piece of art. Though in theory this should only be part of the equation, it factors largely into how the critic will judge a particular work. In actuality it is not the critics job to speak definitively on the interpretation of the meaning of a work of art, since every person could see something different in it. Judgment is grounds on which someone can argue the value of art. For example, the value of Duchamp's "Fountain" can be judged to be greater than that of crude drawings scribbled in a bathroom stall. While in theory neither one is particularly superior, it is the cultural context of "Fountain" that sets it in the realm of fine art. However it is here that we reach the gap between perceived value and individual opinion. Who is to say that the intent of the bathroom graffiti is really all that different from Duchamp's proposal of a urinal as art? Both are equally profane in their own right, so it comes down to personal interpretation. One could argue that since Duchamp was the first one to put his work on public display that he clearly showed a more formal understanding of artistic perception. But one could also theorize that the bathroom artist was taking Duchamp's principle and bringing it into a 21st century context? This is all hypothetical of course, so there is no real right answer to this scenario, however it does express the conflict between judging and attempting to interpret a piece of art. In short, the only one who knows the true meaning of artwork is the artist who created it (and sometimes not even then).

On a similar thread, I'd like to play the critic and judge the Filter Photo Festival which we attended as a class last week. I will state upfront that I did enjoy getting the opportunity to go and get an inside look at the photo festival, and the speakers clearly had a lot of experience and insider info to share at the lecture. However I feel that the lecture we attended fell more into the realm of semi-professionals. While there was talk about getting grants for your work, and best ways to compile it, but I felt that despite our student group making up a fair percentage of the audience, most of the information the speakers had prepared to give us wasn't even applicable to people our age, much less those of us in our current financial standing. This part of the Filter Festival I did not particularly resound with, for obvious reasons. Nevertheless, it is always valuable to hear an insider's take on the process, since those are the people we will be working with in our future jobs (with any luck). Sarah Hadley, who organized the event, was a very open and enthusiastic individual who clearly cared about photographers of all age brackets, but I feel like this emerging event has yet to catch on with young photographers. The booths were aimed at high-end art dealers, and even the location was not very well placed if they in fact intended for young artists to attend. Had it not been for this class, I wouldn't have known the Photo Festival was even going on so close to school. Being a photographer in the city of Chicago, you'd think I would be made more aware of something like this beyond the walls of a classroom. But their general lack of advertising at local art schools leads me to believe they haven't quite worked out a line up aimed specifically at the younger generation. I feel that the makings of a good photo event are latent in Filter, but since it is so new I think it's still kind of growing into itself. With luck, they will learn to branch out and reach other groups of individuals.

Blessing In Disguise

The unassuming concrete exterior of the Hedrich Blessing building pays homage to the work that goes on within it's walls. Dedicated exclusively to modern and contemporary architectural photography, Hedrich Blessing houses a wealth of photographic examples as well as functioning as a studio and gallery. Our tour guide (whom I will refer to by his old nickname, "Cuddles") did a terrific job making the world of architectural photography exciting. To an outsider, the topic can often seem dry and unappealing, but the individual accounts and stories of the ups and downs of the trade made it seem much more interesting. I can say that it helped considerably to have seen "Visual Acoustics" before attending, because it helped give me a reference point on a subject I am admittedly not that familiar with.
I enjoyed hearing about how the gallery/studio/archive made it's transition from being devoted to film to becoming almost entirely digital. I had no idea that they were 100% dedicated to large film photography until only a few years ago, but I can understand why they were willing to wait. It seems that architectural photography is an extremely disciplined and detail-oriented field. On numerous occasions I noticed how Cuddles would refer to the interplay of architecture and photography as the only "essential" art, as well as pointing out how being an accomplished architectural photographer is an extremely prestegious and difficult to attain position.
I also enjoyed the talk we were given in Cuddles' "Bunker", where he told the story of Frank Lloyd Wright and the public's love/hate relationship with his work. I never knew how fickle Wright could be about certain things, and how his large ego would often wear on the nerves of those who worked with him. However through and through Cuddles had a warm and entertaining personality which is what set this visit apart from the rest in my mind.

Vite, Labor, Studum, Charitas, Mors...

These were the words adorning the large mural at the entrance to the International Museum of Surgical Science. The Latin words roughly translating to "Life, Work, Study, Charity, and Death" gave the visitor a pretty clear emphasis on what they could expect to learn about in a surgical museum. Having never been to such a museum myself, it was definitely an interesting experience and a distinct departure from the "universal survey" museums we have encountered in the past. Aside from it's single-pointedness on a specific topic, the IMSS differed in that it's layout was far less rigorously planned than those, for example, at the Art Institute. Not to say there was no rhyme or reason to the layout of the exhibits, but there was a certain element of it being less like a formal museum and more like an eccentric collectors manor.
Despite being an informative visit, I would not go so far as to say the emphasis was particularly artistic or photographically slated. There was some consideration given to the fact that x-ray photography was utilized in novel and semi-artistic realms before it was absorbed into the medical field. However I do wish there was at least a little reference to modern artists/photographers/scientists who have used radiology in unique and surprising ways (though that opinion is coming from a photography student, so my interests are naturally slated towards that aspect). The IMSS is definitely a scholars museum, dedicated to physicians and those interested in medicine; perhaps even the occasional tourist. None the less, it was an interesting experience.

Changing gears entirely, I found the documentary on architectural photographer Julius Schulman pleasantly entertaining. In all honesty, I wasn't sure how to feel about such a dry subject matter, but once I started getting into the story of Schulman reflecting on his life's work, I was able to in some ways empathize with him. I kept thinking of how easy it would be to equate Schulman with a grandfather or great uncle - it's easy to like the opinionated old man. But what was even easier to like was his artwork. I could definitely see why there were so many people invested studying the man's life and his work, and why he had so many admirers. He did for modernist photography what Frank Lloyd Wright did for modernist architecture (and it's no coincidence they were both colleagues). Modernism itself was very much a product of the early 20th century philosophy that "form follows function" along with a small but growing sect of individuals who rejected the industrial age and wanted to preserve natural simplicity in a way which did not disturb the environment. Schulman's photography essentially performed the same function not only in what he photographed, but how he photographed it. Modernism is probably most recognizable for it's strict linear geometry and almost zen-like placement of furniture and room layout. Schulman used those concepts as themes in his work which he would further emphasize by wide angles and the perspective control of his view camera. By using his architectural eye and the abilities of the camera, Schulman was able to see the buildings as idealized versions of what they really were. As one scholar said, Schulman's photographs of the buildings was often more grand than the buildings themselves. In many ways I feel that Schulman did not originally set out to be an artist, or even an architectural photographer in specific. He simply wanted to treasure and preserve the things which he held most dear, and one of those things happened to be the modernist sensibility. By just being involved with that world, he was assimilated into it and became a staple in the architectural community, for whom he did most of his work. Occasionally a collector or art critic would praise his work, but by and large his work was kept confined to architectural periodicals and private collections. That is, until his work hit the mainstream and took everyone by surprise. What started out as a hobby ended up causing a major shift in the public's perception of photography. Instead of seeing the usual fine art or street photography which was popular in the day, Schulman's photographs effectively established architecture as a well respected sub-genre of photography. And it is that which I believe was Julius Schulman's greatest accompishment.

The River North Galleries

The excerpt from Winkelman's "How to Start and Run a Commercial Art Gallery" attempts to make a scholarly synopsis of the skills and know-how necessary to operate an independent art gallery, beginning with the history of such galleries. Winkelman explains that in the old days it was more common that an "art dealer" rarely dealt in the buying and selling of art exclusively - often they were sellers of all manner of home decor aimed primarily at an affluent clientele. It is pointed out that the romanticized vision of an art dealer elevating the relevance of some underground artist is often a gross misrepresentation of how the art trade really is. There is, however, a certain degree of truth in regards to the shift in consciousness from being curio salesmen to legitimate patrons of the arts, as cited by the example of Paul Durand-Ruel who helped establish Impressionism as a permanent fixture in the art world. Yet in the end, both aspects (sales and patronage) play a large role in the modern art gallery by incorporating blue chip artwork from reputable and well established artists as well as taking certain gambles on new up-and-coming talent.

Winkelman transitions from history into a rough but practical guide to climbing the ladder to gallery success, as well as ways for enterprising individuals to work their way into the gallery circuit. This section boils down to Winkelman explaining the essentials of running a gallery, such as deciding how one markets their specific art market, branding oneself, forging an identity, and how to physically exhibit work inside the gallery.
In general I feel Winkelman speaks to the reader as a season colleague offering advice to the young art enthusiast with big dreams. He does a decent job of keeping things seem attainable and give the up and down nature of the art market some sense of order and patterning. At least in terms of how to make oneself fit the mold of what is expected of all dealers.

To supplement our reading, we took a trip down to the Catherine Edelman and Stephen Daiter Galleries. Seeing the two side by side offered an interesting opportunity to compare and contrast the various types of personalities and ideologies that are active in the art world today. What made the double visit particularly relevant was the fact that both galleries were in the same category of art, with slightly different views. For the purposes of this blog, I will not go too much into the variables of physical layout, because both galleries share a nearly identical architectural style and geographic location.
To me the Edelman gallery definitely exemplified the contemporary eclectic photography/fine art gallery. Our tour guide was able to explain to us how the Edelman Gallery was really built from the ground up for the sole purpose of forwarding photography as a legitimate art form. Catherine herself seemed to take special interest in local and emerging artists who work in a primarily fine art style. We learned that throughout the gallery's history, Edelman sought to bring cutting-edge photographers and artists into the mainstream, as well as marketing these artists to the appropriate clientele seeking new and trendy forms of photography. Seeing the gallery's current and past shows, I can definitely see that Edelman is keen on artists who find  their own creative niche rather than those who are outstanding among many others in their field. In essence the gallery draws its strength from providing the public with new progressive takes on photography, while putting it into the context of a museum-like experience as a way of subliminally legitimizing its quirky relevance.

The Daiter Gallery, on the other hand, was vigorously dedicated to exhibiting highly prominent documentary photojournalists of the past century. I would not categorize the Daiter Gallery as being cutting edge in terms of it's subject matter, since they clearly pride themselves on exhibiting what they consider to be the best of the best photography. While the Edelman Gallery has a mix of contemporary photography and mixed media artwork, the Daiter Gallery specializes in only one thing. That's not to say that specialization is a bad thing, but the atmosphere of the Daiter Gallery was definitely more museum-like in it's layout and mission statement. The main difference I noticed was that the Daiter Gallery only exhibits the work of one photographer at a time, choosing to display a "greatist hits retrospective" of that artist's career.

I feel like getting the chance to see both galleries offered an interesting cross-section of the fields in which we artists can apply ourselves, and what types of art we can hope to sell if we seek a gallery as a creative outlet.

The Universal Survey Museum

Scholars Carol Duncan and Alan Wallach produced an article which primarily seeks to explain how the true nature of art museums is similar (or in some ways identical to) "Ceremonial Architecture" dating back to ancient times. This includes both conceptual and architectural references to "temples, palaces, treasuries, and tombs". They pose an interesting argument in how the practice of ritualistic processions through sacred structures for a means of moral or spiritual enlightenment was an common practice amongst a large majority of ancient cultures. The fact that spiritual megaliths were constructed from the neolithic age right through to the modern day, manifesting as grandiose temples or churches.
To a certain extent this does hold true throughout much of recorded history, however as Duncan and Wallach point out, there was a gradual shift in how these "Temples of Art" went from being theological epicenters to secularized cultural hubs. As religion gradually became more interwoven with politics during such times as the reign of the Holy Roman Empire under Constantine, the line between religion and monarchy began to blur dramatically. In order to legitimize their reign as god-king to the commoners, theocratic monarchs funded the construction of massive cathedrals filled with lavish art and decor, meant to leave the common man awe-struck and humbled by the experience.
After the Renaissance the theocratic political system began to gradually dissolve into more conventional monarchies. However the focus did not stray too far from it's origins. Rather than being strictly religious in purpose, the cathedrals and holy sites were annexed by the royal family and used to impress foreign dignitaries and enrich the upper class. During this time much of the world's classical art fell into private collections that were only seen by the common man on rare occasions. However this phase too, was to be short lived.
The prime example of a major reclamation of the "Temple of Art" for the common man was during the French Revolution, as cited by Duncan and Wallach. When Napoleon seized control of the monarch's estates, he began to make the once-hidden fine art available to the masses. In direct opposition to the French Monarchy, the royal grounds were opened to the public (albeit on a limited basis). This set the stage for what has become one of the world's most highly regarded artistic institutions: the Louvre in Paris. Combining all the elements of Classical, Medieval, and Renaissance architecture, the "New Temple of Art" was an amalgamation of all the influences preceeding it.
However what brings the essay full circle is the inclusion of the American adaptation of the Neo-Classical styles found in Europe, and our unique approach to what we consider public art. Being founded on an entirely anti-monarchy platform, America (striving to compete with it's European forebearers) wanted to again reinvent the concept of widespread culture. Rather than utilizing preexisting palaces or holy sites, the American museum was generally founded on entirely secular spaces, but seeks to evoke the same sense of awe and inspiration the first temples did. Only this time, all people are welcomed into it. No longer is the museum relegated to preists, kings, or even the upper class.
Which begs the question - what will be the next incarnation of the "Temple of Art"? Only time will tell.