Zuzana Stefkova 5/20/09: Block Museum, Northwestern University

Center for Contemporary Art, Prague 

Zuzana Stefkova, the curator at the Center for the Contemporary Art in Prague, came to Northwestern’s Block Museum to speak about the state of political art in Eastern Europe. Her discussion was titled, “Politik-um/New Engagement.” She started her lecture with numerous questions, such as: “What is it like to make political art in Eastern Europe?” “What is the post-socialist context?” “How much censorship is involved?” “What are the deconstructing issues on chauvinism, nationalism, freedom of speech, racism?” She would then attempt to answer these questions for the rest of the evening.

First and foremost, the Politik-Um is the show that took place in the Prague Castle Gallery in the Museum of Contemporary Art. It involved artists from twenty-eight countries and it is considered an important moment in contemporary art due to the scandal that followed. Some art works were censored or even canceled, one of the canceled works being that by Pode Bal, a Czech creative artist collective. Another example of a political art show that caused outrage was Czechpoint, curated by Zuzana  Stefkova and Tamara Moyzes. Stefkova discussed how Czechpoint strived to show how art inspires an engaging discussion about corrupt politics. The show set out to force the audience to think about the current and past political situations in Eastern Europe, and to then influence change. By allowing local Czech artists to present their work in the public sphere, a new voice was heard. 

Though I often fell by the wayside in Stefkova’s lecture due to it’s convoluted structure, I would have enjoyed watching more videos and seeing more examples of art. However, I was able to gather the status of the current state of Czech contemporary political art. It has evolved rapidly since the 1990s, but there are still many problems. There is a lack of efficiency—the art is not accomplishing what it set out to do. The audience is also not learning anything from viewing the artwork since they are already converted viewers, like the old saying, “preaching to the choir.” There is also parasitism on politics. Without the corrupt nature of the political there would be no need for this sect of art. Because of this, the art has a lack of independence. In the future, Stefkova hopes that the resistance apparent in political art will create a new audience of converted followers for both the art and the political ideals. 

Personally, I enjoyed the work of Tamara Moyzes and her comment on racism in Eastern Europe. The time lapse video of a Roma woman transforming to be a "white" Eastern European beauty queen, and the other video installations have a global appeal. These problems are seen everywhere, from Prague to the United states.  All around, these artists, I feel, are doing their job. The whole point of political art is to contest history in order to ignite a change in thought, and controversy is definitely necessary in order to start the discussion. 

Gordon Parks Lecture 5/16/09: Block Cinema, Northwestern University

Emerging Man, Harlem, 1952

The photographic work of Gordon Parks is what drew me to this lecture. His photojournalistic essays explore both high and low cultures. I wanted to hear about his process of forming relationships with Flavio and his other subjects. However, the lecture, moderated by professor of African American Studies and History, Darlene Clark Hine, failed to meet my expectations. “Unlocked Doors:  The Art of Gordon Parks” began with Hine reading the epilogue from Parks’ autobiography in order to bring his “spirit into the room.” And that set the tone for the rest of the two hours. There was less commentary about Parks’ work and more about his life and how his work has affected others.

The first speaker was Philip Brookman, a writer, filmmaker, editor, and photographer who specializes in the documentary style. Brookman spoke specifically about Parks’ life. Parks was raised in Kansas, and though not a lot when on in the midwest, his mom always encouraged him to go after his dream. Once at Life magazine, where Parks was the first African American contributor, he told the story of the Great Migration through his photographs. His interactions with the lower class proved to be essential towards his career. Poverty provided experience, and Parks was able to photograph crucial images that Life readers wanted to see in the 1940s. His interactions with Red Jackson and other gang members resulted in famous photojournalistic essays. Brookman also focused on Boy with the Junebug. This was an autobiographical photo that Parks took of a boy lying in the grass. It captures both innocence and serenity. The real payoff was going to the gallery after the lecture and seeing the cibachrome print in person. The colors were much more muted and changed my perspective. There was a certain sadness represented in the print—a fog that the boy is trying to peer through, and he squints to see freedom away from his hometown in the distance.

Maren Stange, an associate professor at The Cooper Union, spoke next. She focused on Gordon Parks: the Renaissance Man. Parks started in Chicago as a Pullman Car dinner server and made his way to becoming a photographer, a poet, an artist, and a filmmaker. Stange reiterated an interesting dichotomy is Parks’s work. Not only did Parks photograph the lower class, but he also devoted a large part of his work to glamour shots. His precise use of lighting in Ingrid Bergman at Stromboli (1949) imprisons her in shadow, while making the highlighted nuns in the background look alien. He often uses flat space or shallow focus in order to point out exactly what you as the viewer should be looking at in his photograph.

The last speaker, Bob Black, a staff photographer for the Chicago Daily Defender and the Chicago Sun Times, was the most enthusiastic speaker, but the least relevant. Black spent his time telling stories about his own experience as a photographer, and briefly mentioned how Parks inspired him.

The brief discussion following the lecture, as well as the exhibit in the museum, gave the greatest insight into Gordon Parks. For instance, stories of how Parks changed Flavio’s life for “fifteen minutes,” and then how Flavio was unfortunately exploited through the experience, taught Parks about the cruelties of photojournalism. Even so, he continued to juxtapose high and low classes. Parks was known for always allowing viewers to come up with their own connotations from his work. This was very clear after viewing the exhibit. It is this everlasting connection that Parks not only had to his subjects, but to his audience as well, that made them feel as though they are sharing the same experience with Parks. The lecture is proof that Parks was able to even inspire both artists and academics in their forthcoming careers. 

Guerrilla Girls Review 4/17/09: International House, University of Chicago

How I learned about Feminism From a (Guerilla) Gorilla:

Deep inside the International House at University of Chicago, a lecture was held. The speaker: a gorilla masked feminist. The topic: the infamous Guerilla Girls. Having no previous knowledge of the women’s work, I felt a bit like an outcast. Luckily, the anonymous woman, who uncannily had the voice of Annie Hall, was here to give an untold history lesson. The Guerrilla Girls were formed in 1985 in New York City. Their mission was to radically show the world how both underrepresented and misrepresented women are in the art world. They slapped witty posters across museum walls all over the globe. The posters asked questions, demanded answers, and shouted out facts. The featured Guerilla Girl had a slideshow depicting many of the posters. One of my favorites boldly asked, “ Where are the women in Venice?” and then replied, “Underneath the men.” This is both relevant in art and for female artists. Not only are women structurally placed beneath men in the majority of art pieces, but also many of the art created by women are locked up in basements. Our revealer noted that this is practiced not only in Europe, but in the land of the free as well. When the Guerrilla Girls protested at the Smithsonian, the curator put up one “feminist” painting. That clearly wasn’t enough and more protesting ensued.

The Guerrilla Girls didn’t stop with museums. Hollywood, politics, commercial advertisements were all targeted as being both chauvinistic and racists. The girls took on the Oscars (“Unchain the women directors!”), Homeland Security (“The U.S. Homeland Terror Alert System for women”), history books (Bitches, Bimbos, and Ballbreakers), and even Barbie (fact: she originated from the German sex doll, Lilli).

As enjoyable as it was to watch a feminist in a gorilla mask give example after example about how the Guerilla Girls radically changed the art world, by the end of the night the masked female sounded redundant. Their posters became trite and their protests seemed as though they read too much into the status quo of male-female relations in art, film, politics, etc. For example, the Guerrilla Girls invented stereotype dolls. Sure, the point may have been to make stereotypes obvious and humorous, but how does it prove a point? Wouldn’t it have been more productive to create dolls that fight stereotypes, instead of enhancing the ones that are already present in media?

By the end of the night, it was clear that feminism is definitely not over. There is still a reason to throw up a fist. Many female artists don’t get the validation they deserve. The Guerrilla Girls are there to stand up for that artist. The gang of women continues to collaborate together, and, even though they refuse to allow men in their circle (hypocritical?), they want to work with undisguised men to get women on top. The masked leader left the audience with the idea that we can all contribute to the cause, even without a primate mask.

 

magazine.

Charred.

Photo by Elizabeth Yossum-Guy or at least it's on her facebook.

How appropriate that I was recently showing my friends one of my favorite music videos, Fire directed by Hype Williams (song by the ever-so-badass, Busta Rhymes). Two days later this happens to the place I call 'home.'

Spencer Finch at Rhona Hoffman Gallery

It would be virtually impossible to group Spencer Finch’s work at the Rhona Hoffman Gallery into one category. This may be why his exhibition is comprised of three nouns. Light, Time, Chemistry, on display from 3/27/09 to 5/2/09, doesn’t hesitate to explore an array of media, each piece of work grasping to hold onto the meaning of memory. Though one can see a latex painting, a box sculpture, and a light installation—all these pieces, as well as the numerous photographs, can all also be connected by the title of the exhibition. Light, time, and chemistry are all essential in the process of photography, and Spencer Finch, essentially, is a photographer who experiments with these three elements to portray the concepts of recollection and perception of what was once present.

Walking into the lobby presents no indication that you are already in the midst of the gallery. In fact, one first comes into contact with Finch’s work when approaching the gallery from the sidewalk outside. The large ventilation duct pointing to the sky is part of Finch’s Periscope (sky over Chicago, 3/26/09-3/27/09). The rest of the piece (pictures shown at the top of the article) continues at the lower gallery. This is one of Finch’s most effective piece of work in dealing with light, time, and chemistry. Through mirrors inside the ventilation duct, Finch was able to make a cyanotype of a two-day exposure of the Chicago sky. What appears in the cyanotype (a type of photograph that uses sunlight to expose the image with a chemical that tints the image a Prussian Blue) is not the sky, but the passing memory of what the sky appears to be when closing your eyes and holding onto that image for a long period of time. It is not a fleeting moment, as many depict the past, but a hazy view just out of reach.

Finch displays his acute sense of light, time, and chemistry in five different spaces of the gallery. The lower gallery that contains the Perioscope also includes Lemon Tree (Spain, 6/27/07, 8am –7am). This series of ten photographs, all presented vertically in the same frame, capture the shadow from a tree. The photos weave in and out of high contrast to low contrast, from focused to unfocused, as one moves across the frame. Lemon Tree is clearly trying to identify our fluctuating recollection of the past. Once an event already happens it is impossible to hold onto the crisp moment for a significant amount of time. Finch shows the viewer that time is impossible to control. Though he manages to show it’s passing of time through series of photographs, one must accept and allow time to continue. The act of remembering is an important step that can never be avoided. But also, remembering is full of holes. We might not be able to see the lemon tree as it used to be, and all that is left is a shadowy ghost of the image.

Continuing to play more with the passage of time, the upper gallery showcases Thank You, Fog, sixty photographs that wrap around the entire room—each photo taken one minute apart for an hour as fog passes over trees in Sonoma County, California. This is where Finch deals less with the unreliability of memory and more about proving how photography actually can document the past. However, Finch’s subject is fog, a thing of which is hazy and blocks a clear vision. Though there are many photographs to suggest the fog’s movement, there is still so much missing. And so, it is fitting that this work is in the gallery. Another important piece is Shadow, Sculpture of Centaur, Tuileries (after Atget) in the middle gallery. This is, in the literal sense, a vertically standing, but slightly off--kilter, fluorescent tube covered in colored filters. The sculpture acts as a reverse prism that emits the same gray light as the shadows captured by Atget in his photographs of Paris. Again, Finch goes for exactitude, but really, he is accomplishing something more ambitious—he’s telling us to trust an image that may or may not be true. He’s asking the viewer to recollect something the viewer probably never thought to pocket in memory or has never seen at all.

Some of Finch’s renderings of memory are ineffective. For example, Window (Emily Dickinson’s bedroom, January 30, 2009), attempts to show us an unfocused view from Emily Dickinson’s bedroom location. But the photograph is displayed on the front window of the lower gallery. In effect, the viewer is distracted by what is happening beyond the art. People walk past, cars move in and out of the picture, and bricks suddenly become a part of Dickinson’s bedroom location. This adds an obvious falseness to the work and the viewer knowingly feels cheated. Also City of Light (two of the three, Opera and Notre Dame, were there—Bastille was missing) leaves the viewer wanting more. All three are diptychs of exposed photo paper on the right and pastel on paper on the left. Is Finch implying that what we recollect is incorrect? All three locations cannot produce the same image on paper. Is he showing us how our minds play tricks on us and how memories of what we once saw blend together? If that was the point, this is an aesthetically dull way to prove how capricious our memory can be.

Back in the lobby, there are two works of art, the most intriguing being Untitled (Tower of Babel). Many hear about the experience of walking into a gallery or a museum and seeing a large canvas painted black. Well, that appears to be what hangs on the wall. However, there is much more than latex paint on wood. What is represented, in tying in with Finch’s theme of photography, is an overexposed piece of photo paper left out over time. What is more ambiguous is the title, for in the upper gallery is a piece also titled Tower of Babel (After Brueghel). This is a sculpture of a Kodak Box taped onto a small, otherwise blank, wall. Supposedly, there is exposed photo paper that is part of the work, though it was not visible. Quite possibly, the Untitled work is the photo paper, and the two pieces, though disjointed, work hand in hand to conceptualize the time that passes from the beginning point of the gallery to the furthest point away from the entrance. What is left to be discovered in the middle of Rhona Hoffman gallery is much more complicated and innovative than photography that utilizes just photo paper from a Kodak Box.

Finch is a master at contorting light, time, and chemistry. He shows us the many ways in which memory of time in the past or time passing can be captured, whether it is on paper, in a light, on a wall, etc. But, he emphasizes that what we recollect is just a recollection, not a copy of a past moment. That moment will never be seen again. 

Photos courtesy of http://rhoffmangallery.com