ACROPOLIS 2019-20: REFLECTIONS
ACROPOLIS: Reflections Editor: Greer Bateman Staff: Atlee Paterno Carina Pacheco Emma Capaldi Greta Mattheis K’Vahzsa Roberts Martha Rose Sarah Roberts Zak Zeledon Beiren Zhu
Letter from the Editor When looking at ourselves in the mirror we are confronted with questions, realizations, worries, and dreams. Mirrors, however, are not our only means of reflection. The arts are a means of self-contemplation in which we process our experiences. They reflect the human experience and preserve its consistencies and transformations over time. Reflection is important historically, as well as personally, as we strive to create a better world and reconcile with the past. Whether artists in this magazine are tackling issues of a personal nature, those larger than themselves, or something completely different, we as a staff were capitivated by their stories. For me, a sculpture that embodies reflection is PixCell-Red Deer by Kohei Nawa. It is a taxidermied Red Deer covered in crystals. While on a trip to Melbourne, Australia in 2018, I saw this piece at the National Gallery of Victoria. It sat in the middle of one of the galleries under the lights and was struck by how lumenous it was. Not only does it honor the original form of the animal, but is also transmorative and novel. I will never forget how truly striking it was in person. In this issue we hope to share with you the various manifestations in which William and Mary students have conceptualized reflection as well as our own analyses of famous interpretations of the concept. We hope that the student artwork we have selected for this magazine as well as the featured writings and historical analyses show how reflection is a connecting thread in many art forms. - Greer
Kohei Nawa, PixCell-Red Deer, 2012
“I printed these in Cornwall, Pennsylvania in the reflections of some old furnace buildings. The grid of the window lattice was a structure. The reflections, mixed up with the stuff inside the building, was not so clear to organize.” Bee Chessman, ‘16
RenĂŠ Magritte:
La Reproduction Interdite 1937
Belgian surrealist René Magritte produced much of his work during the Surrealist movement’s heyday, participating in a mass reconsideration of representational art. However, his personal philosophies and motivations for painting were unique among surrealists, whose interests lay in the exploration of uninhibited thought and dreams.1 Rather, Magritte was absorbed by the concept of relationships; not those discussed in formal artistic theory, but those found in life between objects and their representation. His straightforward denial of any use of symbolism in his works stresses his desire for the depicted objects themselves, as well as the traits we subconsciously assign them, to provide meaning. Magritte’s paintings are purely an appreciation of the coded relationships between objects and imagery which dictate our conscious understanding of the world. Magritte rearranges this code, presenting us with new sequences which capture our attention and, even in his most pedestrian pictures, lend us a sense of unease which characterizes our reactions to any break in the rhythm of our coded reality. Magritte’s mature works, those which actively investigate the relationships between objects, images, and words, are typically
defined as those created after 1926. The Lost Jockey (1926) was the piece used to mark this milestone by the artist himself; it was with this work that he began his “specifically poetic research, unrelated to painting.”2 Within the group of mature paintings, there are a number of major themes with regard to Magritte’s investigation of relationships, each of which appear both in concentrated periods and throughout his works, often overlapping with each other. The first, and most characteristically Surrealist of these themes is that of juxtaposition: objects which have no obvious relationships to each other are painted as though related in the image, evoking confusion and discomfort by their apparent disagreement.3 The second is that of affiliation: an object is replaced within the image by another object which is closely related to it in conscious thought. The third is the theme of property: Magritte manipulates the properties of an object, especially those which are directly related to the way we perceive it in our own world. This could include petrification, liquefaction, enlargement, reversal of gravity, and more complex manipulations such as an animal becoming a plant (Gablik, Magritte, 124-125). It is these two latter themes that make Magritte unique among the Surrealists.
Magritte’s oeuvre can be conceptualized as a series of questions which he has posed to his viewers. These are questions which one may only attempt to articulate with language; indeed, Magritte saw painting only as a vehicle for the materialization of thought. The thoughts conveyed in Magritte’s images are those which cannot be expressed adequately by language, and as such, any attempt to articulate either question or elusive answer feels inadequate to the viewer. These are visual expressions of the “mystery of the world” which Magritte pursued for so much of his career. Magritte routinely attempts to reproduce the stimulating synthesis of dialectical thinking, presenting juxtaposed objects (either by position, relationship, meaning, or otherwise) with the effect of evoking response (as in, synthesis). He occasionally describes his intentions behinds his works as occurring to him suddenly, almost as visions; he also leaves evidence of the careful thinking behind many of his visual discoveries, such as the repetitive sketching of ideas and pairing of words. Both sources of subject are arrivals at the kind of response-provoking convergence of dialectical thoughts; their synthesis, when successful, can be charming or tense or awe-inspiring, but is always engaging and provocative.
La Reproduction Interdite (Not to be Reproduced) is Magritte’s 1937 portrait of Edward James, a British poet who is perhaps best known as a patron of Surrealist artists. It is one of two portraits of James produced by Magritte; the other, titled The Pleasure Principle (1937), depicts James’s upper body with a flash of light obscuring his entire head. Both paintings subvert the conventions of portraiture, refusing to depict the sitter’s face. The presence of the mirror in Not to be Reproduced doubles our frustration with its identification as a portrait. James is turned away from us, but he is also turned away in the mirror so that all we know of him is the back of his head. Yet Magritte insists that this is indeed a functioning mirror: a copy of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Narratives of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, published in 1838, lies on the mantel and is correctly reflected in the mirror’s surface. Magritte is contrasting our expectations of the mirror with the actuality of his image, as well as our expectations of portraiture with what he is asserting to be a portrait. The painting’s title further references the ideas and assumptions we associate with reproduction, such as truth and multiplicity, encouraging our frustration and fascination with this quietly disruptive portrait. - Sarah Roberts, ‘21
Gustav Klimt, Medicine, 1900-1907
Gustav Klimt was an Austrian Symbolist painter born in 1862. His painting, Medicine, was commissioned by the Great Hall at the University of Vienna in 1894. Due to the work’s nudity and coarse depiction of medical sciences, the piece was condemned and never hung. Despite the painting being mostly lost, except for a small black and white photo, it is still considered one of Klimt’s best works.
In the center of the piece is Hygeia, the mythological daughter of the god of medicine. Klimt gives her much attention and detail in comparison to the figures featured in the background. Around her neck is a long Aesculapian snake made of gold leaf. As a medium, the gold not only allows Klimt to show off Hygeia’s status, but also makes an eye-catching focal point for the viewer. It is reflective by nature and the regality the leafing gives is inherent. No matter where you look, Hygeia’s composition is always in a constant state of judgement. - K’Vahzsa Roberts ‘23
Steve Prince with one of his works, Sow
Interview with Muscarelle Museum of Art’s Artist in Residence, Steve Prince Acropolis (Beiren Zhu & Greer Bateman): A Steve Prince: SP 23, Oct., 2019 A: Can you tell Acropolis a bit about your professional journey as an artist? Like where did you study, how did you end up at William and Mary, and what are you working on now? SP: I grew up in New Orleans, Louisiana, and I went to the Xavier University of Louisiana for undergrad and cocentrated in fine arts and minored in marketing as an undergraduate student. One of the beautiful things about that experience is I was a student-athlete I went to the school on a basketball scholarship. I was able to pay for my education but all the while my pursuit was in the arts. That is something I wanted to do ever since I was 5 years old. From there I went to Michigan State for graduate school and I concentrated on printmaking and sculpture. That was a great experience. After graduate school, I’ve been teaching my entire career and at the same time, I pursued being an exhibiting artist. I have shown in both museums and galleries all over the country. My artistic pursuits are with the community. My job at the Muscarelle Museum I am the Director of Engagement and Distinguished Artist in Residence. One part of my job is to engage the community, work with all various age groups, and ethnic backgrounds, through the lens of the arts, in hands-on experiences. At the same time, I do lectures, workshops in the community. As Artist in Residence, I have the unique opportunity to share with the community a deeper understanding of the arts because I am a practitioner. In contrast to most times you go to a gallery or an exhibition, you are seeing the work minus the artist and the artist’s intent. I give the community a full artistic experience because I am a creator. A: That’s so cool. What techniques and mediums do you work in most?
SP: I am primarily known for my drawings and prints. Like a linguist that pursues the study of many different languages, I would like to look at myself as a visual artist who is trying to learn many different languages in the visual arts. I consider myself to be a mixed media artist. Because I am versed in both 2D and 3D artistic expressions. Most of my work is in the traditional realm. I do a little bit of digital expression. Most of my digital expression would be in digitizing my work and my public art production. A: Actually, before now I just knew that you do a lot of carving which is really fascinating. I remember the last time I came here for your workshop and tried my first carving, I found it difficult to make on the wood a symmetric design, just like a right hand on wood would be printed into a left one. Do you have any special techniques that you can share with us to make all your prints in the correct sequence? P: The first print I did was in 1988. I believe that anything that you want to do there is a requirement for dedication, focus, an submission to the process. I have dedicated my life, I have submitted to the process, of becoming an artist. In that pursuit, I am constantly trying to pick up new information and new techniques from different artists. I am seeing different shows. I am looking and studying. I am looking at the techniques and asking questions. And then I am going to the studio and taking the time to do that practice. So in order to do a really effective print, I think first and foremost, for me is practicing drawing and understanding marks and mark-making and know the variety of ways you can put these on a page or upon a substrate like linoleum or wood. The next thing that is required is working with your tools so that those things become like second nature to you. Any tool you pick up the first time is a bit awkward and it takes time to build dexterity, plus skill and understanding of how to wield that tool. I remember my first time picking up a basketball, it was very awkward, to dribble it, to understand the subtleties and nuances of dribbling the ball. Imagine your first time
learning how to write, you had to learn the penmanship. With woodcuts and linoleum cuts, you have to learn how to hold the tool, the correct angle when you enter into the wood or the substrate and cut it, how to make a thick/thin line, a thick/thin cut, with that tool. Some processes require you to know multiple steps. For block printing, you learn to cut the substrate, ink the block, apply paper to the block, and run it through a press or press the surface with a spoon. There are a series of steps you have to master through discipline and repetition to make a successful print. That is why I used a sports analogy. And if you exercise discipline, creativity and repetition then you are able to more consistently create a print. Art-making requires those fundamental foundational elements in order to be successful at creating, I believe. A: Beyond the technique, in a more metaphorical interpretation of reflections, like how are your personal experiences, thoughts, and black heritage, and reflected in your works? And also in a broader sense, politics, culture, and religion? Can you say more to us about that? SP: If you talk about politics, my ethnic background, my maleness, my spirituality, or my art, all those things are inextricable. I don’t see those as separable entities. I see them as all-inclusive, all in one. If you engage me, Steve Prince, man, artist, there is no order, they all embody the same thing. For the past year, I have been doing an art show called Kitchen talk. I call it kitchen talk because it is the site within a home that is a very personable space. It is a place that is very important in terms of your daily living. Three rooms are very important in a house: a place to sleep, a place to use the bathroom, and a place to eat. Those are a part of my cycles. The kitchen space becomes a site where so much stuff happens because food is so important and universally cross-cultural. Different types of food, different flavors, from different parts of the world begin to give you those cultural and ethnic distinctions that would be passed
on from generation to generation. So with all that in mind, I think about that in regards to politics, faith, beliefs, and the storied traditions of the family. The kitchen site in my household has been that tions of the family. In that space, I can go from one conversation talking to you about sports, to faith, to talking to you about what is going on in the community or in the world, and about making art-all in one conversation. We embody multiple cells and genes that are colliding together that come from our parents. We are a collection of cells and stories that come from our transference and our interactions with each other. Everywhere we go and every encounter is important, no matter how small it is. It shapes us. Therefore to separate any of those things out is Impossible. All of those things affect the central being. A: Can you use some examples of your works that illustrate that?
Steve Prince, Rosa Sparks
SP: I think a piece that combines a lot of the ideas I just talked about is called Rosa Sparks. It is a tribute to Rosa Parks. In the book of Ephesians Paul writes “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and things in high places.” He encouraged his followers to “put on the whole armor of God.” The idea of the armor of God translates into people wearing an “AOG” patch. To further translate the idea, I placed helmets, breastplates, and in many instances, their feet are shod with protection. When I think about the Civil Rights era and how important it was within an American context, I think about the great sacrifices and pain different people had to endure in order to create change, to break walls down, and to remove barriers. When I looked back at the history I saw Black people and White people working collaboratively to fight against these structures that were created long ago within the fabricof this nation that was created within the context of the decimation of the Native American and then the transport of the African into the space to be used as slave. I am reminded of the fight and the struggle that it took to fight against those constructions and what is required of us to continue that fight. In my image, I show a seated Rosa Parks who refused to give up her seat in 1955 in Montgomery. Rosa’s body is covered in protection by the AOG. But as you peer at the back of the bus in my composition, the back of the bus symbolically becomes the site where we deal with contemporary issues stained by history. On the back of the bus reveals issues we are still dealing with, that have not been resolved. Rosa Parks fought to sit in front of the bus and that victory was won and we can sit anywhere on the bus. I have Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, and Eric Garner represented at the back: all those people who are martyred and were killed for different reasons within our nation. All three of them died prematurely, and that’s a space where I think that we as a people need to continue to look back and for all of us to collectively move forward. It’s not just simply looking back as an as a look of lament, but that is part of it. I think looking back
and critically looking to see what we are retaining, what are we reifying, what are we perpetuating, and how can we work collectively to address those issues. And how we collectively go to the front of that bus. A: It is a really great piece. When you make a piece of art and you are thinking about the process and you’re planning is the idea of symmetry and reflecting and things like that in the technical sense of your work? Is that something you think about? Or is your creative process more organic? SP: No. I think about those elements and principles of design, and I’m very careful all the time. Much of my work is done in a sketchbook, so I am planning my images and compositions and determining what I am trying to say. I am crafting the space and using organizing principles of balance, repetition, and emphasis. I am using elements such as lights, darks, and values to communicate with. I am using those tools at my disposal to speak through the work and to speak about whatever the idea that I’m trying to get across. Even though things are crafted in my work I am open to the creative process while making the art. I may delete, change, or add things to the composition. When creating there’s always a conversation that’s going on and I am consciously making decisions to modify the work. I may bend the plane because I want to lead your eye up to a particular space. I am using all kinds of mechanisms to create some of its planned, but some of it is spontaneous and improvisational. A: Is there anything you will be coming out with that people can go see your work? Do you have anything you want to promote? SP: Monday, May 4, 2020, Chamber of Commerce exhibition, The Art of Steve Prince. The Links Project will be on display in the Sadler Center.
The Links Project is comprised of over 500 people from over 20 different countries, in over 35 workshops, to create individualized woodcuts addressing the history within the timeframe of 1619-2019 and beyond. In one sense we may think of the links as incarceration or slavery, but the project was conceived to think of the links of our inextricable connection to each other and the importance of working as a community. A: Thank you for meeting with us!
Kusama, Narcissus Garden, 1966
Born in 1929 in Japan, Yayoi Kusama is a self-taught mixed media artist who has had famous exhibitions all over the world. One of her pieces that attracted just as much attention as it did scandal was the 1966 Narcissus Garden. It included 1500 plastic silver globes that were scattered in a garden of an Italian Pavilion. The balls would reflect everything around them in a distorted image, and would force the viewer to face their own ego and conceit. Attendees could even purchase a ball, as in buying their own narcissism. This form of interactive media garnered international recognition, but also a high amount of criticism for its radical commentary on the commercialism of art. Reflection is this season’s theme of Acropolis Magazine, and Kusama’s Narcissus Garden fits perfectly. Besides the obvious fact that the orbs would reflect one’s image, Narcissus Garden is also about confronting vanity which in turn is a display of society’s issues. Zak Zeledon ‘23
Untitled Photos by Sam White ‘21
Pablo Picasso, Girl Before A Mirror, 1932
From the harlequin pattern in the background to the densely patterned bodies in the foreground, Pablo Picasso’s Girl Before A Mirror prevents the viewer’s eyes from finding much opportunity to rest. A suggestion of this rest exists in the rounded bellies of the lower third of the painting; curves exaggerate themselves into an abstraction of the female form. The open circles suggest pregnancy, layered behind swollen stomachs. These bellies mimic the head’s curvature in the top third of the painting. Here, the leftmost face appears stoically in profile. Roughly shaded in yellow, her other side peeks out--red lips and cheek emulate exaggerated makeup. The right-most purple face reflects this gruffness, however darker. Sad and aged, the mirror image combines the outer two faces into a singular reflection with green, red, orange, and purple contrasting one another to build an atmosphere of discontent. Thus, the outer woman sees a distorted version of herself looking back at her. In this, Picasso uses the mirror to dually serve as an image of the true self hidden beneath the surface, as well as to represent an untrustworthy distortion of reality. The reflection in this painting creates an unsettled atmosphere, displaying to the viewer a deeply intimate form of sadness. Martha Rose ‘22
Arctic Reflections by Luke Campopiano How does the average (non-Alaskan) American visualize the Arctic? In their article, “Polar bears and ice: cultural connotations of Arctic environments that contradict the science of climate change,” Anna Westerstahl Stenport and Richard S. Vachula argue that “images of the Arctic, notably those of glacial and polar ice as well as polar bears, have become representative symbols of climate change for the American public.” These concepts are largely fostered through extensive coverage in the mainstream media of melting ice and starving polar bears. This focus noticeably excludes the presence and agency of the four million people living in the circumpolar Arctic, a significant portion of whom are indigenous. Why does the contemporary media participate in this Othering of the Arctic as an inhuman wasteland? This essay will attempt to locate an answer in the history of artistic portrayal of the Arctic dating from the nineteenth century. It will also explore recent trends in the representation of the Arctic and include a reflection on my personal experiences in the region. In 1859, the famed Hudson River School painter, Frederic Edwin Church, voyaged to the coast of Newfoundland and Labrador to sketch icebergs. These drawings would serve as the source for his 1861 painting, The North, which is a reference both the geographic location of the subject matter and the Union cause in the fledgling Civil War. The painting was not a success. According to art historian Jennifer Raab, contemporary viewers were “baffled, even disturbed, by the painting’s emptiness.” There was no story, no moral, no identifiable connection to the ostensibly invoked Civil War. In response to audience reactions, Church renamed the painting The Icebergs and added a broken ship’s mast in the foreground. This symbol permitted the construction of a narrative involving the disastrous and tragic end of an attempt at Arctic exploration, a story rendered all the more salient by the continued search for Sir John Franklin’s lost expedition in the Canadian Arctic. In this way, the painting came to resemble Caspar David Friedrich’s The Sea of Ice and Edwin Landseer’s (admittedly more gruesome) Man Proposes, God Disposes in depicting the failure of Arctic expeditions. The doctrine of this period of polar exploration was that the Arctic provided a testing ground for brave and strong men without the outlet of war. The paintings of the time suggest that such expeditions are foolhardy, as human strength cannot hope to prevail over the overwhelmingly hostile environment of the Arctic. The
Frederic Edwin Church, The Icebergs, 1861 Stenport and Vachula suggest that one source for contemporary skepticism of climate change is the historical portrayal of the Arctic region as beyond human comprehension and control. Nineteenth century artwork, they argue, portrayed the Arctic as an empty place “where human action seemed to cease in cold and ice…a non-history of no events…” Combined with certain religious views, suggestions that humans can affect the environment of regions such as the Arctic seem arrogant and possibly even blasphemous. Recent trends in Arctic artistic representation, however, have attempted to reverse the previous conception of the region as changeless and timeless. One of the most prominent steps in this movement was Nathalie Grenzhaeuser’s 2007 photographic series, The Construction of the Quiet Earth. According to Grenzhaeuser, the series “put into dialog the history of settlement, mining and research in Svalbard with the imagery of the arctic landscape.” Svalbard is an archipelago located halfway between Norway and the North Pole. It has belonged to Norway since the Svalbard Treaty of 1920. It is crucial to highlight Grenzhaeuser’s focus on the history of settlement on Svalbard as a means of dispelling stereotypes of the Arctic region as ahistorical and unaffected by human contact. Perhaps the most striking photograph in Grenzhaeuser’s series is Hotellneset (“Hotel Point”), which portrays a coal shipping port in Svalbard. The photograph stands in stark contrast to the nineteenth century paintings discussed earlier. A construction of human making dominates the landscape, an effect doubled by its reflection in water below. There is no question about the potential of humans to control and alter the Arctic. It has already happened. Thus, the Arctic is properly viewed as deeply vulnerable to degradation from human activities. While Grenzhaeuser’s work is quite valuable in addressing Stenport’s and Vachula’s worry of conceptions of the Arctic as timeless and unchangeable, it fails to embody
Nathalie Grenzhaeuser, Hotellneset, 2007 the Arctic in its human inhabitants. Indeed, Nicola Triscott argues that, in the series, “[m]an is here, but not in human form.” As a way of working toward this goal of humanizing Arctic representation, I would like to offer my own experience in Svalbard this past summer. The largest town in Svalbard, Longyearbyen, is in the process of transforming from a coal-mining town to a family community. A particularly striking illustration of this shift involves a seemingly anomalous set of stairs going nowhere on the outskirts of the town. These stairs unite Svalbard’s history, its Arctic conditions, and its modern social transformations. The stairs were rebuilt from the ruins of a hospital that was destroyed by German shelling during the Second World War. They are now used by Svalbard’s inhabitants to celebrate the first appearance of sunlight in the archipelago after months of darkness. A festival, Solfestucke, is planned around the event, with children eagerly standing on the top stair to be the first to be struck by sunrays. Given the winding down of coal mining in Svalbard, such events are all the more important to preserve a sense of community. The future of sustainable and fulfilling life in the Arctic depends on environmental action being taken to protect the region. Artistic representation of the Arctic has a significant role to play in this process, as it has the power to show the public that Arctic inhabitants are as grounded in their sense of place and community as Luke Campopiano, Stairs to the anywhere else on planet Earth. Sun, 2019
Reflective Chess Game, Jamie Hayon
Play chess with fewer pieces? Mirror reflection may help. Some people might find losing chess pieces annoying when they want to play a match. Some others may complain that carrying a whole set around is tiresome. It is probably the same for artist Jamie Hayon who has brought his human-size chess set to many places around the world, including Trafalgar Square in front of the National Gallery, London. When he came to hold an exhibition at the Daelim Museum, Seoul, he found out a way to present his installation Checkmate with fewer pieces: mirror reflection. In a small rectangular room, Hayon attached mirrors to each wall and placed only two rows of chess pieces in the middle. Due to the reflection effect of four mirrors on the sides, the audience in the room could see an infinite number of pieces extending endlessly out of each side of the room. First of all, this solves the problem of only having an inadequate number of chess pieces. From an artistic perspective, mirrors reflecting lights repeatedly provide a dizzying and whimsical atmosphere in the room. Viewers inside will be astonished by the infinity of chess pieces and their human-like size. In such a narrow physical space surrounded by an infinite reflected world in the mirrors, people are overwhelmed by the contrast between their loneliness as well as tininess and the chess’s great magnitude and size. In this way, Hayon brought his audience to his fantastical and whimsical world where objects seem to have spirits (painted faces of human-size pieces) and break real-world laws (infinity in mirrors). If next time you would like to play chess with fewer pieces, bring mirrors, because reflection may help. Beiren Zhu ‘23
Through the Mesh Tunnel by Shreyas Kumar ‘21
Index Magritte: René Passerson, René Magritte, trans. Elisabeth Abbott (Chicago: J. Philip O’Hara, Inc., 1972), 36. Suzi Gablik, Magritte (Conneticut: New York Graphic Society Ltd, 1970), 25. International Council of the Museum of Modern Art, Four Modern Masters: De Chirico, Ernst, Magritte, and Miro (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1981), 78. Jacques Meuris, Magritte, trans. J. A. Underwood (New York: Konecky & Konecky, 1988), 6. René Magritte: Selected Writings, trans. Jo Levy, edited by Kathleen Rooney and Eric Plattner, preface by Sandra Zalman (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2016), 255. Stephanie D’Alessandro, “René Magritte: La Reproduction Interdite (Not to be Reproduced), Brussels, 1937.” In Magritte: The Mystery of the Ordinary, 19261938. New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2013, https://www.moma.org/ audio/playlist/180/2381. Arctic Reflections: Nathalie Grenzhaeuser’s Personal Website, https://www.grenzhaeuser.com/ index_e.html Raab, J. C. (2009), Fredrick Church and the Culture of Detail. Ph.D. diss. Yale University. Stange, R. “Sun festival in Longyearbyen,” https://www.spitsbergen-svalbard.com/2019/03/06/sun-festival-in-longyearbyen-2.html Stenport, A. W., & Vachula, R. S. (2016), “Polar bears and ice: cultural connotations of Arctic environments that contradict the science of climate change,” Media, Culture & Society, 39(2), 282–295. Triscott, N. “Critical Art and Intervention in the Technologies of the Arctic,” In Bravo, M. T. and Triscott, N., eds. (2011), Arctic Geopolitics & Autonomy.