Boston, Salem, and the Fall so Far (part 2)

The first longer trip we took this semester (we'll be traveling to Charleston, SC, then Philadelphia and Delaware later this semester) was to Boston and Salem.  I should preface this by saying travel is a bit of an exaggeration, since we did an absurd amount of sitting in the train due to a system wide meltdown that affected all train traffic in Connecticut.  We were supposed to leave Penn Station just before 7:00 and arrive in Back Bay Boston by noon.  When we got to the hotel at 2:30, it was clear that students felt both annoyance and relief (are we there yet?), but we had lunch to eat, art to see, and we make the best of it.

Our first stop was the MFA Boston, and this is great museum.  We're especially lucky to have Gerry Ward (Senior consulting curator, and recipient of the first Wendell Garrett prize) teaching the first semester of American Decorative Arts and grateful that he takes us around the museum when we come to Boston.  Since he knows the collection so well, and since he teaches with many of the MFA's objects, the students get a chance to see them up close and personal, to ask questions about the objects that didn't occur to them during the lecture, and to physically confront objects.

This allows Gerry to continue to make connections with the objects, to talk about the impact of display and the choices made by the curatorial team, and to keep reviewing material with students in a manner that deepens their understanding and improves their learning outcomes.  We arrived at the MFA by about 3:30.  Three hours later, we had made it through about two floors.  He takes him time and we are always grateful for that.  

Additionally, and quite unexpectedly, Nonie Gadsden joined us too.  You may notice a strange, tricycle-like apparatus beneath her right leg.  Injured, but back at work, she spent time with the students talking through individual pieces (here we are in a silver gallery of sorts, and she's speaking about the influence of English design forms on American Colonial production), but also about the aesthetics and messages conveyed by display.  Those who haven't been to the MFA should go, because the aesthetic experience of the galleries (from the scale of the rooms, the mixture of paintings and decorative arts, the choices of wall color and even wallpaper) are a much different interpretation of museum context than the Metropolitan Museum of Art's.  In some ways, this also seems to reflect the organization of the respective departments, which seems to reflect more deeply held core values: the Met has a strong sense of specialization and the separateness of objects, the relative paucity of integrations seems to reflect this.  By contrast, the curatorial appointments at the MFA seem more broadly constructed, and the emphasis on integration of disparate media seems in line with a team of curators whose work extends broader ranges of media and time.

You may also have noticed by my annoying tendency to defocus things that in addition to traveling, I have taken a shine to instagram.  But I digress, the experience is what is important to convey, not my photographic aspirations.  Because of the train fiasco, we missed the Gardner museum on Wednesday, pushed it to Thursday, and all retired after twelve hours of art and travel.  There was probably dinner, but days like this (getting up at 4:00 to meet students by 6:30) are exhausting.

The next day was a bit of a chronological whirlwind, but it is not always possible to match the trip to the specific moment they are studying (in truth, it is always possible, but doing so would mean that they do not see things they should experience).  With that in mind, with some travel realted readings under their belt and additional resources, we made our way to the first stop: the Boston Public Library.  In some ways, it's useful to see this before the Gardner, because next to Sargent's masterful work in El Jaleo, the murals are frankly a bit dry and underwhelming.  While the controversy surrounding the installation of Church and Synagogue, and the backstory of the public reaction to these murals is interesting historically, there is a bit of gap between aesthetic and historical interest that is usually not present in Sargent's work.  Nonetheless, the library is a real testament to civic spaces, and the additional work by MacMonnies, French, and Puvis de Chevannes tells a story about the public decoration of buildings that is not always easy to accommodate in narratives of art and history.  To me, aside from the addition by Phillip Johnson, this is among the most successfully executed civic spaces of the period of the nineteenth century on.  There is a real sense of harmony in the parts--as disparate as they are--and a sense (not always evident in the study of American art) of the international tastes of architects, and the exposure to international art by the general public.

Here's an example of the type of imagery from Sargent's murals that I don't find aesthetically compelling.  Yes, in terms of technique, theme, and history one can make an argument for this, but truth be told, this is Sargent at his driest.

There are flashes throughout the cycle of the technical brilliance he is known for, but--and perhaps the long duration of the commission contributed to this--there is no real sense of cohesion to it.  Later artists realized that this was a problem, and thus Jacob Lawrence in completing the Great Migration cycle worked on numerous panels at the same time, so that there would not be a stylistic shift, even in a more compressed period.  

The grand staircase, with murals by Puvis designed to echo the collections holdings, is simply a stunning space.  From the BPL it was a quick jaunt across Copley Square, and soon we were treated to the best tour of Trinity Church I have ever received.

This is my attempt to make a contemporary view of Trinity Church resemble a period photograph, and again seems to exhibit my fascination with Instagram.  [Those desiring to learn about the travel we do can search #maafda (this program) or #sothebysinstitute (the school in general)].  In any event, whereas all of the tours I have taken in the last four years have begun inside, and relied upon my knowledge of the project to explain the exterior before we began, Trinity gave us an amazing guide who started with the exterior and explained to the students what was Richardson's work, and what elements were later additions.  

Here, we are standing between the old and new, looking at the space containing Richardson's initial exterior (behind the students, with the doors) and the later addition of this porch which provides a transitional space into the church's narthex.  What's exceptional (to my mind) is the manner in which Richardson varied the capitols on the columns, choosing all native species as the basis, but giving the church a real sense of sweep and motion that is both breathtaking and likely unnoticed by most visitors. Here's an artful shot of some of the capitols.

The exterior of Trinity is stunning, and yet it no way prepares you for the interior by LaFarge and his assistants.  It's quite honestly the type of space that makes me want to go to church.  Blending paintings, stained glass, text (some of it not even real) and decoration, it simply is one of the most beautiful religious spaces in the United States.  It's rare that in a slide, in a classroom, sitting in a standardized desk / chair, that students can ever get the feeling of a space.  They can understand the decorative scheme, but fundamentally--at a very deep and almost instinctual and pre-cognitive level--architecture is about the relationship of self to space.  If you want students to understand this, you need for them to experience it, to see how subtle shifts in natural light change dynamics of color and contrast, to be able to hear the difference in their footfalls in enclosed versus open spaces.  I'm lucky in this regard because the program I run allows for this to happen through travel.

Photographs and images of interiors, to my mind, are useful to the degree that they allow you to recall the experience of spaces, or to the degree that they prepare you with knowledge to understand the spaces you will visit.  They are not, however, a useful substitute for the experience of space, but remain instead a poor substitute for that.  Trinity Church is simply overwhelming and rewards close looking, frequent return visits, and time.

We then went from the sacred to the secular (after lunch, of course, these students demand food), and took a short T ride to the Harrison Gray Otis House, a stunning achievement by in architecture designed by Charles Bullfinch.   Unfortunately, the House does not allow photography inside.  To me, this is a mistake and something that house museums across the country need to rethink.  With the advent of social media and the interconnectedness of people across these platforms (facebook, instagram, and there are others I am sure) museums should be thinking less about their photography policies with a proprietary interest (if people take photos, they'll be less likely to buy the books of photographs we publish), and more of these an an effective means through which to market their properties to visitors otherwise impossible to reach.  In effect, the promise of social media promotion is that it allows museums to reach out directly to a client base in a manner more effective, and far less expensive, than direct marketing.  The benefit is that this marketing comes with a level of trust and recommendation that is impossible to secure through other means.  If a friend posts an image from someplace I have never been, it allows me to see it through their eyes, and--as an association with that image--I also (immediately, and likely unconsciously) form an empathetic relationship with the place through the connection I have with the person.  Now, to be sure, there is the potential for this to cut both ways (say, for instance, my friend Larry hates a place, I might be less enthusiastic to visit), but the point is, whether positive or not, the idea of visiting the site likely would not have occurred to me at that moment without the mention on social media.  Museums, especially many smaller house museums and local historic societies, need to find a way to leverage the potential these emerging platforms have, and that requires finding the language to convince their boards, who often retain a strong sense of precedent (i.e., "we have never allowed photography") but have little understanding of how these policies are suppressing the potential for visitor outreach and engagement.  

From the non-profit world, we dove back into the world of profits, paintings, and the process by which objects are brought to market (without which, I should note, we'd have little knowledge of them, and certainly few museums would have any indication what precisely to collect, because truth be told, the cultivation of collectors and donors relies upon the type of price discovery only available through a market).  Back to Copley Square we went, then it was a short walk to Vose Galleries  the oldest family owned art gallery in America.  Quite simply, if you look back at Vose's history, the links between markets, museums, and American art as we know it, are made clear.  Beth Vose and her staff were incredibly gracious hosts, and allowed the students to ask questions, examine works closely, and confront works directly.  The highlight for me was an exceptional Gilbert Stuart portrait on panel, with an exquisite cradle on the back.  It's great for students to be able to see objects from all angles, and in a proper frame, and something that slides will not ever quite convey.

Because it was only about 4:30, and because the students are young (i.e., they never tire or complain of all the walking) and because they need constant looking to foster constant thinking and critical engagement, and mostly because of the Amtrak fiasco, we departed Vose and headed to the Gardner Museum.  The Gardner Museum is at once breathtaking, frustrating, overwhelming, and full of incredible things which are poorly lit, horrendously labeled, and quirkily placed.  The Gardner is a bit like new love, an exquisite agony whose potential is glimpsed, frustrated, acknowledged, and unknown.  It's sublime, in the truest sense of the word, somewhat terrifying, breathtaking, beautiful, and magical.  Bound to the conditions that Mrs. Gardner laid out in the early 20th century, it also (to my mind) serves as a warning about donor conditions--we cannot know what the future will bring, and we should resist the hubris that causes us to believe that we can--and yet brilliantly resists the idea of the museum as a reified narrative.  That said, I wish I could take pictures.  I wish there was better lighting.  I wish that I could stand with students in front of an object and discuss it without incurring the wrath of what can only be described as amongst the surliest gallery guards I have ever encountered (seriously, if I have a question, is it too much to ask that you do not preface your answer with a long sigh that conveys your annoyance with me?).  Anyhow, it's a necessary experience for the students if they are to think broadly about installation, audiences, and objects.  From there, and after a long day, the students scattered like sand in the wind, and made their ways to dinner.

As this seems a bit long already, I should address the trip to Salem in part three, which will follow shortly.  

Boston, Salem, and the Fall so Far (part 1)

Blogs require constant attention.  I'm learning this slowly, and often reminded that between teaching, administrating, travel, and life, that I lack the constant diligence to be a blogger.  It's also why I don't have houseplants, but I digress.  This is a post about the fall thus far, not my ability to kill houseplants.

It's been my goal to get the students out and about so that they are seeing objects in person, and thinking about how context and presentation creates meaning and expectations for the audience.  It's also pretty useful to be able to touch things, to understand the weight of mahogany versus cherry, to run your hand around the rim of a bowl and feel the slight shift in texture indicative of a restoration.  And then there's the issue of scale: slides make everything seem about the same size.  There's no better way (that I've found) to get students to understand the physical presence of an object than to place them directly in front of it and allow them to spend time with it.

One of the best things about learning and teaching in NYC is the auction previews.  Looking back on my own experience at the Graduate Center, it seems like a missed opportunity that we didn't often leave the classroom. We went over to Christie's on September 23 to see the American Furniture sale items, and to spend some time with Andrew Holter (he's the Head of the American Furniture department, and an alumnus of the American Arts Program at Sotheby's), and to get the students to learn directly with objects.  The great thing about an auction preview is that you get to pull out drawers, look at dovetail joints, and understand the object not as a two dimensional image, but really as an object--a dynamic, historical, and aesthetic "thing" whose history of use is inscribed upon its surfaces if you can decode the marks.  I'm not precisely sure what I'm doing in the following picture but I know that we spent a bunch of time in front of this Philadelphia chest on chest, thinking through the object and examining the details.  

There are simply too many things about a chest like this to convey with slides.  Even if you tried to get every possible image of every detail, there's a certain luxury to be able to allow the students to self direct their own learning, to have a question about a detail, to walk around an object and get a sense of its presence.  I have a hunch that what we are talking about here is the manner in which the carving was done on this central drawer, how the artist created the texturing and detail in the background, what is carved out of the wood and what is carved and applied.  It also gives the students a chance to see the difference between original and later pulls, to see clearly the difference between primary and secondary woods, and to understand the subtle patterns of wear that are signs of original versus later additions to a piece.  Perhaps most important is that they understand surface and finish, qualities of an object virtually impossible to accurately convey in slides.

I should make clear too that this is not a substitute for classroom time, this all happens in addition to their class schedule.  Each week, excepting those when we travel, I make sure that Fridays are devoted to a site visit.  Museums, auction houses, galleries, and professionals in the field are all fair game.  Not only does it allow them to begin building a network, but it means that they need to be constantly engaging the material they are learning.  My belief is that by reinforcing these lessons through direct engagement, the students absorb more, understand more, and have a better sense of the breadth of the field.  It also creates a social aspect to their learning that I feel is important, because it dispels the notion that work, life, and learning are discrete aspects of a professional career.

So far this fall we've been to the Met as an introduction / overview, to the Christie's preview to handle objects and look closely, and this past Friday to Ralph Harvard, Inc. to talk with Ralph about his business, and look at some exquisite and early Virginia furniture (which, to be honest, is something virtually impossible to find anywhere else in NYC).  Ralph's a gracious host, does incredible work, and has the ability to immediately set the students at ease.   

Here's the students looking at some furniture, prints, and assorted objects in Ralph's space.  There are a number of great things here that students get to see up close, including Bermuda Queen Anne chairs, 18th century wall paper samples, and other assorted gems.  

Here's Ralph with some of our students.  Above them on the bookcase?  A whale's skull.  Not an obvious choice for most interior decoration, but one that fits beautifully into the room.  He has the ability to make spaces seem personal and warm.  While it stems from his knowledge of architecture and decorative arts, it allows students to see that in all aspects of the field (design, sales, curating, you name it), there are opportunities to be creative and to directly apply the knowledge you have gained.

Part two to follow... 

A follow up to Prince v. Cariou

It's pretty clear that I dislike the verdict of the recent Prince v. Cariou decision, and so I reached out a while back to Patrick Cariou.  For those of you unfamiliar with his work, look into it.  He's an exceptionally gifted photographer whose creative work demands the full protection afforded by copyright law.  We volleyed a few emails back and forth and it's worth reprinting (with his permission) a statement that followed the first decision, in which the court affirmed that Prince had violated Cariou's rights.  As Cariou told me, "here is enclosed a text... written just after the first judgement, never really published, please use it if you want...[to] represent my state of mind."   

Marcus Goffe, Kingston, JAMAICA The Ras Tafari community welcomes this Judgment. Mr. Prince’s ‘art’ distorted and misrepresented photographs of Rastafarians. The exhibit defamed the Ras Tafari brethren and sistren photographed, and by extension the entire Ras Tafari community. The exhibit also breached our religious, cultural, moral and intellectual property rights as a traditional minority community. Mr. Prince abused his freedom of expression at the expense of a vulnerable, peaceful, spiritual community and we are glad that his indiscretions have been halted by the Court. Non-Ras Tafari individuals and organisations that exploit and/or misrepresent Ras Tafari imagery, culture, words, symbols, music, art and craft without the prior informed consent of and appropriate benefit sharing with the Ras Tafari community, will be regarded as hostile to the community and treated accordingly. We will continue to vigorously monitor this and other infractions to preserve and maintain our cultural and religious integrity.

While the stakes for Gagosian and Prince are pretty clear and frankly kind of crass (can we sell this work and not be sued, what sort of profit is there in it?) the stakes for Cariou and the Ras Tafari community are much more nuanced.  It seems to me that the law, that public opinion, and that Prince and Gagosian could learn a thing or two from this statement.  The first is some sense of cultural understanding.  The Ras Tafari community in Jamaica is an intensely devout and close knit religious community that understandably is sensitive to exploitation and feels clearly as though they are a persecuted and misunderstood minority.  The access the Cariou had to them was clearly a sign of respect; Prince could not and would not have been able to achieve the sensitive, intimate look into this world because they would not have accepted him.  Moreover, in stealing Cariou's work (without so much as a gesture of asking permission), Prince's art serves no public purpose.  His art is going to end up on the walls of wealthy patrons, enrich himself and Gagosian, and never rise to the level of the type of public benefit (like the one scholarship shows) that the fair use law was designed to balance.  I'm not, I should make clear, trying to state that Richard Prince has no right to buy these books and appropriate the images as he sees fit.  He can and should do whatever he likes.  But, when you use someone else's work as the basis for a commercial enterprise (art, when sold, is precisely that) then it seems to me as though the rules shift drastically and precedent / law needs to protect the intellectual rights of the creator, even with a monopoly right to distribute or license that work.  

This seems to be in for another round of lawyering.  Cariou has an intellectual and moral claim to the work, while Gagosian and Prince have a profit to protect.  To my mind, the court should overturn the latest decision because it radically subverts the rights of authors and artists to control and license their work.  The purpose of a copyright monopoly is promote creativity and artistry here by guaranteeing that artists and authors have control over their productions.  This case should be heard by the Supreme Court, and the matter should be settled in Cariou's favor.