9-11 Memorial: Commemoration through symbolism and simplicity

“Ten years have passed since a perfect blue sky morning turned into the blackest of nights. Since then we’ve lived in sunshine and in shadow, and although we can never unsee what happened here, we can also see that children who lost their parents have grown into young adults, grandchildren have been born and good works and public service have taken root to honor those we loved and lost.”
New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, speaking at the memorial service in New York

Last week I had the honor of being one of the first among the many millions that are sure to follow to visit the memorial built in honor of the tragedy of September 11, 2001. A mere decade after the terrible attacks that shocked our nation, we have begun to rebuild the infrastructure, and the hole left in our hearts, on both simple and grand scale. This monument is sure to join a long list of memorials and tributes that flake our country’s history and visual culture.

I was happy to see that there was a great number of people both connected directly and indirectly to the event lined up around the block to get tickets for entry. Tourists were taking pictures and reveling in the beautifully constructed scenery while families and friends were showing their love and respect for the individuals honored in long listings of the lives lost. Chocked full of symbolism and aesthetic appeal, architect Michael Arad and landscape architect Peter Walker created a memorial that can speak to anyone who pays it a visit.

The names of each of the many thousands of people who were lost in 2001, as well as the individuals who died in 1993 and lost their memorial when the towers collapsed, are listed along the edges of the monuments, reminiscent of Maya Lin’s Vietnam Memorial Wall. The two square pools at the center of these listings contain the largest man-made waterfalls in North America with a separate waterspout for each individual life lost. This overwhelming number of spouts combines and falls to a pool that serves to remind us of the collective loss of the event. The pool then falls to a small, but ever present, void that runs too deep for us to see but we all feel in our hearts runs beyond our personal comprehension. The waterfalls are continuous and everlasting, much like the eternal flame at the grave of John F. Kennedy, a sign that we will never forget and never let the fire in our hearts extinguish.


A line of trees surrounding the pools marks the original footprints of the two towers before they fell. In addition to practical design, the trees seem to serve as a reminder of the rebirth, growth, and continuation to life that has come in the aftermath of the fall of the World Trade Center. Beyond the memorial itself, the life of the city, and especially the growth of the new World Trade Center buildings, envelope the memorial site as a protector of the memory and as a reminder that though we may stumble in the light of tragedy, we can pull ourselves up and grow loftier and stronger than before.

The National September 11 Memorial is a true work of architectural and artistic genius with a superb use of evocative symbolism and aesthetic simplicity. This site makes America proud and will stand in history along side the likes of the obelisk devoted to Washington, the highly recognizable figure of an enthroned Lincoln, and Maya Lin’s wall of names commemorating the losses of a tragic war. Most importantly it serves as a lasting tribute to the 3000 people killed in the September 11, 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, the victims of the planes involved, and the six people who died in the World Trade Center bombing in 1993.

Whatever each persons reason for visiting the site, there is a feeling of strength and renewed appreciation for all Americans and all peoples. We are standing up together to support the claim that despite catastrophic attacks of terrorism, ten years later we are still one strong nation and we can turn a tragedy into a beautiful oasis of love and remembrance.

To Hold You Over

I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for a month. And I'm sorry that this isn't going to be a real post, but I wanted to advertise that my summer research paper (mentioned in this post from July) is now online.

If you have about an hour and the earnest desire to read 30 pages of Memphis history you can find it here: http://rhodes.edu/academics/23930.asp under "Projects Directed by Professor Victor Coonin." And if you're REALLY into that, you can find other Amy's paper from two years ago here: http://rhodes.edu/academics/16456.asp (look under "Professor Milton Moreland").

Thanks for your patience, anonymous online community.

Andy Goldsworthy: Immortalizing the Ephemeral

Andy Goldsworthy is a man of many artistic talents, utilizing sculpture, photography, and a philosophical perspective on nature to create works of art that provide a social commentary on the inevitable power of natural forces. Officially labeled as an environmental sculptor, he utilizes objects he finds in nature – leaves, stones, ice, wood, etc. – to create abstract formations outdoors in an environment that is generally free from human interaction. During his creation process, Goldsworthy approaches his natural surroundings without preconceived notions of what he is going to produce. He observes the objects he encounters as his materials for an art piece and sees the environment as his canvas. He does not actually create; he manipulates to produce a finite aesthetic experience. To make this possible, Goldsworthy claims to be aware of a specific energy in nature that he rises above to produce a tangible art form. These works are, themselves, temporary. Once he creates the product, Goldsworthy leaves it in the environment to let nature take its course. In this way, these ephemeral sculptures challenge the importance of art as it is historically characterized by its permanence and significance as historical evidence.

Though his sculptures themselves are merely fleeting moments of artistic brilliance, Goldsworthy immortalizes his work through the use of photography. According to the artist, "Each work grows, stays, decays- integral parts of a cycle which the photograph shows at its height, marking the moment when the work is most alive. There is an intensity about a work at its peak that I hope is expressed in the image. Process and decay are implicit." The photographs allow for the artist’s creations to be environmentally friendly and naturally ephemeral, while still gaining mass exposure and appeal. He does not create art that takes up unnecessary space or destroys natural objects. He documents them in their environment and brings the representation of them at their height of aesthetic pleasure to his audiences. In this way, he creates a images of the ideal that cannot wither away or be destroyed. Nature plays the role of destructor for the object, but it will remain unharmed, beautiful, and inspiring through his photographic evidence, which captures the sculpture as the artist believes it should be seen for eternity.

Goldsworthy’s photograph Rowan Leaves with Hole illustrates the artist’s contrasting transient properties of his sculpture with the immortality of his photography. The piece itself is comprised of rowan leaves of various hues of red and yellow placed in a circular pattern on a dark ground. By placing the darker, more decayed leaves on the outer ring with the more vibrant coloration at the center of the piece, there is an appearance of a three-dimensional depression into the central black hole. The circular formation of the leaves does not appear natural, but it serves to represent the cyclical temperament of natural forces. The strong contrast of yellow against the solid black creates the illusion of infinite unknown space beneath the pile, symbolizing the division of life, as it cycles through the process of leaves in fall, with the uncertainty of death and decay that ultimately at the center of all living things. This theme mimicked in the comparison between the sculpture and photograph themselves. The inevitability of nature to bring an end to the piece by blowing away the leaves is undermined by the lastingness of the photograph’s capture of the moment of perfection in the piece.


Similarly, Stone Tower illustrates a disturbance in the environment without a clear indication of where or when it is taking place, but it is done with a new set of materials. The photograph, shot from the angle most appealing to the artist, allows for the illusion of a never-ending tower of stones. Bilaterally symmetrical, the photograph shows the “tower” with a base of larger stones that moves into a darker, less recognizable section at the top. It is hard to tell whether the rocks themselves get significantly smaller as the construction moves upward in the composition or if the piece itself monumentally overshadows the observer. Like all of Goldsworthy’s works, the sculpture itself is temporary. Also, as in all of his work, the photograph of the piece provides much more than an illustration of the sculpture. His perspective provides a symbolic understanding of the work while providing his audience with a lasting impression of his artistic endeavors. The choice of angle and representation in this photograph may serve as a commentary on the disconnectedness of understanding the earthly realm with that of the heavens above, as the composition becomes harder for the viewer to read as it rises higher. The solid pedestal of nature, as shown through the largest rock on the bottom, serves as the base for human reasoning about the unknown beliefs that rise from our interactions with natural elements.

Though not as artistically ambiguous in regards to time and place of the sculpture as the previously discussed photographs, Before the Mirror shows a circular construction made from weaving bamboo at the edge of a body of water. Though the piece again seems unnatural to its surroundings, it draws attention to its surrounding elements. Like the image with rowan leaves, the photograph references cyclical patterns of nature, but it encompasses and draws focus to the environmental combination, as well as separation, of water, earth, and sky. Though each of them is different, they are all necessary for the balance of environmental occurrences. From the calm center of the sculpture the bamboo becomes more chaotic, much like many natural forces such as that of a tornado or hurricane.

Goldsworthy’s photography does more than simply document the product of environmental sculpture genius. It captures the soul of an artwork that springs from a man’s understanding of, connection with, and power over natural elements, ones that fade away but live eternally through the picture. Unlike sculptures that do not tell the viewer how to access them and unlike photographs that solicit questions about the scene shown, Goldsworthy’s photographs show the viewer how to see his sculptures with the clear understanding that he is showing nature as he formed it at the height of its aesthetic appeal. He catches a fleeting moment of beauty and wonder in the ability of man to modify natural elements before nature overcomes him to take back what is hers once again.

Outside the Bubble

Look at this, Amy B has gotten gig as a real world internet writer with Examiner.com. Check it out: http://www.examiner.com/fine-arts-in-memphis/the-impressionist-revolution-makes-a-wonderful-impression-review.

Sweet. :-)

Visual Culture: Art is Everywhere

Though I've yet to see a single episode of Dexter, it is next on my list of shows to stream while procrastinating which is why I stopped to read an article concerning this gritty Showtime series about a vigilante serial killer. I then interrupted my process of pre-procrastinating by becoming enraptured by the article's banner pic and began writing this article. Thus we are in the fourth dimension of procrastination here where space and time bend so far backward that you actually feel like you might be getting some work done.

Anyway, my internal dialogue upon noticing Dexter's promo poster (top right) went something like this: "He's holding his chin in his hand rather confrontationally. Wait a minute, that's not his hand; that hand is dead. Ew, gross he's holding his face with some dead guy's hand. Oh dear, he probably killed that guy. Dexter thinks he's God or something. OH MY GOSH IT'S COURBET!"

That last leap may have been a bit far for non-art historians so allow me to explain. In 1845-46 when he would have been in his mid-twenties, Courbet produced a self-portrait (top left), also known as Man with a Leather Glove. The key feature of this image upon which I intend to focus today is the hand that grazes Courbet's cheek as he wistfully looks out from the canvas looking downward just enough to miss eye contact with us, his viewers. Though it's difficult to glean from this small slide, in better images it's pretty easy to notice that the hand has a significantly more finished quality than Courbet's face or any of the other surrounding details. (Finished in this sense refers to an art historical term meaning the treatment of the pigment on canvas, basically whether it has a glossy, varnished, smooth look or a rougher, matte, more textured appearance.) The effect of this disparity between the face and hand is an eerie sense that though the hand clearly connects to Courbet's arm and then his body, it feels as if the hand is not his own or that it is separate from his personal identity.

The hand is also disproportionately large, as big as his own head, and at the center of the painting it becomes the focus rather than Courbet himself. This opens a conversation about the hand as the instrument of genius which creates his art (note that there is a secondary focus upon Courbet's other hand as well), and begs the question about where the separation lies between cosmic, external inspiration versus the internalization and execution of said magic by the artist himself. Is this hand a simple sign of Courbet's egotism, an indication of the relationship between talent and skill, or a complex combination of both? (This third option is the most likely candidate. Incidentally, other Amy has completed research on this painting so I look forward to her contribution to this discussion.)

That conversation for now is beyond the scope because the real interest for my current purposes is the evident connection between this 19th portrait and a very 21st century pop culture pic. The visual connection between the two - by virtue of the two men's poses alone - I trust is clear to my readers. And what's better is the obvious art historical allusion in that the hand cradling Dexter's face is equally dis-associated with his person as is Courbet's. It may at first seem like the connection ends there being that Courbet's hand conveys a personal connection to genius whereas Dexter's disembodied appendage mostly connotes his murderous proclivities. Thinking more critically though, don't the hands essentially argue the same thing? They both basically say, "I am the creator/destroyer. I can control what exists and what shouldn't. I produce my work, driven by inexpressible motivations, which are beyond judgment by you who are ignorant to such feelings."

I was imminently pleased with the producers and art directors of Dexter who subtly re-presenting this history for us in the promotional media for their show. And in a final twist indicating art history's imminent depth, Courbet's original image itself was lifted from Michelangelo's master work on the Sistine Ceiling. The final piece falls into place when considering this hand of God. Courbet directly referenced this item in his self-portrait which the creators of Dexter then quoted centuries after that. Yes, Dexter feels like God and so does Courbet. And what better way to visually prove that than by using images from the collective consciousness of visual culture? So the next time you pick up a TVGuide or watch that ad campaign for Magic Make-up Eyelash Blast Something-or-other remember that what you're seeing probably has more history than you think. One can never forget, art is everywhere.




Image credit: I put this one together myself with pictures from the public domain. My favorite part of this photoshop adventure was saving the .jpg to my desktop under the name "DexCour."

By the way, I've missed the last few weeks because I've been engrossed writing a lengthy essay on 1940s Memphis art and politics. Once that's uploaded to the web in about a month, I'll provide a link to it for my die-hard friends. Also, Amy's back in the country now which means she'll return soon to class this site up with a little archeo-ancient knowledge from Pompeii.

Potter Pals and Paintings

In honor of the final Harry Potter flick which opened this week, I've been trying to think of a way to talk about the series on this blog, and an idea finally struck last night. Admittedly through a stretch I realized that the major contribution art plays in the adventures of Harry, Hermione, and Ron is the talking paintings dressing the walls of Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world. So what might happen, do you think, if our real life muggle paintings were gifted with the same type of animation as their fictional, magical counterparts?

First of all, religious works would be far more precious and valuable. Consider the doctrinal conflicts we could resolve if we just took those issues straight to the source. I wonder if a Byzantine icon Jesus would disagree with Leonardo's Christ in the Last Supper. Or what would both of those two say to the Early Christian good shepherd?

And what about modern painting/portraiture? The talking heads in Harry Potter all appear to ambiguously date to be 18th or 19th century English portraits, but surely my imagination game can stretch those boundaries a bit. Consider Braque's Man with a Violin or just imagine what Picasso's Desmoiselles d'Avignon would say to us. I already cover my ears instinctively to fend off their taunts and expletives.

But the painting I'd be most curious to have a conversation with is Manet's Olympia, that straightforward prostitute, undaunted by your leers prepared to offer you a bargain as long as the price is right. More than that, Olympia is also imbued with centuries of art historical allusion (from a direct reference of Titian to addressing general themes of the nude in art) of which I believe she is keenly aware. So in this mythical conversation, after after I've dissuaded Olympia of my potentially illicit intentions (and perhaps after her handmaid brought her a cover-up), I'd want to shoot the breeze with this petite intellectual who has overcome a repressed life by mastering the world's oldest trade. Constantly objectified yet perennially in control of what her audience sees, I think Olympia would have deeply personal insights into the idea of art itself.

In all honesty, if I had the gift of magic like Harry and friends I'd probably cast a few other spells before bringing my paintings to life (pick-up Quidditch anyone?). Still, don't you think a conversation with the Mona Lisa would be pretty damn cool?

What painting(s) would you talk to if you could?

Thanks to Wikipedia, Artchive, and some clever kid on photobucket for the images.

Arkansas?

On November 11th of this year, Alice Walton of the Walmart family fortune will open the doors of her dream child, Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. The multi-million dollar investment will house some of America's most valuable artworks from the likes of John Singer Sargent, Jasper Johns, and Norman Rockwell (see his iconic Rosie the Riveter below) in a collection of about 600 canvases. It will, no doubt, be a formidable and significant museum based upon this early press alone, even before Walton has released information about the other 90% of the museum's holdings. Naturally, a museum of this stature will be located in heart of American arts culture - Bentonville, Arkansas.

Huh? If you've never heard of Bentonville, it's located in northwest Arkansas near the slightly larger township of Fayetteville, both of which are about three hours from Little Rock. Bentonville's previous (and only other) claim to fame is as the hometown of the original Walmart, hence Alice Walton's affinity for the locale. Unfortunately for her, very few members of the art world share Walton's affection for the small-town setting. Since announcing her plan in the early 2000s, the East Coast has balked at the idea of relinquishing canvases destined for Crystal Bridges. The establishment seems to believe that selling art to Walton and her museum is like sentencing the American masterworks to a slow death in a mid-Southern oblivion. They parallel this museum with the same criticisms which have been leveled at Walmart, as if large, laboriously gathered art collections are in any way related to depreciation related to mass production. One particularly sour critic, Rebecca Mead of the New Yorker calls Crystal Bridges "Wal-Art." Evidently, entrenched detractors find it offensive that the heartland dares claim a stake in Americana which is as much a part of the East Coast as it is part of the rolling central plains.

The New York Times at least takes a kinder approach by pointing out that the museum will be located in an unexpected location, but then dedicates the rest of its article to explaining Walton's intentions behind her choice. It was primarily this article which convinced me of Walton's sincerity and competence as an art collector. It seems Walton has been interested in art for 25 years, during the last 10 of which she was specifically collecting works with the museum in mind. She has surrounded herself with expert art historians who have also guided her choices and helped shape to museum from a formally educated perspective. And in terms of situating the museum in Bentonville, I think it's a bold and magnanimous move.

The act parallels to me the move that Samuel H. Kress undertook in the 1950s. Though nowadays Kress is largely unknown, he and his low-price, high-volume convenience stores used to be a household name in America. Like Walton and her family, Kress became a millionaire off of his popular market shops and eventually returned the favor to America by donating the artworks he had collected via the nickels and dimes of Kress store patrons. Though Kress's collection of art was largely Italian and he dispersed his works to museums throughout the U.S., I applaud Walton's decision to gather American art and to display it in middle America among the original consumers who made her dream possible. I think New York and the East Coast need to recognize that arts culture can and should exist outside the purview of elites in high-rise lofts. There are drawbacks to any museum in every location, but art can be appreciated anywhere - yes, even in the backwaters of rural Arkansas. It's touching that the objects in Crystal Springs will get to live in a uniquely American setting, and I hope even the city-slickers from back East will be able to make the trip come November to witness the manifestation of an American legacy.


Sources
BigThink.com: http://bigthink.com/ideas/39056
The New Yorker: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2011/06/27/110627fa_fact_mead
NYT: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/17/arts/design/alice-walton-on-her-crystal-bridges-museum-of-american-art.html?pagewanted=1&_r=4&ref=arts