Public Art Review issue 14 - 1996 (spring/summer)

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CONTENTS

EDITOR'S NOTE

Don't Take Memorials for Granite A Memorandum: 4/19/96

I

t's never too late to rethink memorials. Yesterday I got a memo about a public art conference on Memorial Day in St. Louis. It prompted recollections of growing up in St. Louis in the early '60s. Everyone in my third-grade class got to write something—a message for future archeologists?—to put in a time capsule later buried underneath the planned Gateway Arch, designed by the brilliant architect Eero Saaranin. I forgot what I wrote, but I take comfort knowing that—whatever I did—it's safely buried under one of this century's greatest monuments, a 630-foot stainless steel structure commemorating, in 1963, the 200th birthday of St. Louis, "Gateway to the West." The past year feels like a commemorative one: three years since the Waco standoff, five years since the Gulf War, 10 years since the nuclear accident at Chernobyl, and 50 years since the end of World War II. And now it's exactly one year since the April 19 bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building, in which 168 people died and more than 500 were injured. Sadly, it's been a long year for some people. Basically, memorials—large or small—seek to remind us of someone or something. But why is the need to memorialize so strong? Throughout history, and in most cultures, the act of commemorating is pervasive. It takes forms that are extremely diverse. It's safe to say that more time, energy, and money have been spent on memorials than any other kind of public art. Today, there are hundreds of projects under way, from polished bronzes in our nation's capital to rag-tag shrines alongside our rural highways. From heroes on horses to Tshirts hanging on clotheslines, memorials can help us rethink our past and reconsider the common ground we share. They can help us face our mortality, address intensely personal emotions, or contemplate complex global questions. And memorials can offer us solace. With this issue of Public Art Review we commemorate public art that raises questions about what we value and what we have in common. While the process of producing public memorials can pull people together, it can also tear them apart—it's not hard to imagine wars being fought over war memorials. But memorials are not for the dead; they are reminders for the living. Memorials can help us put things in perspective and get on with our lives. In so doing, we need to ask how we want others to remember us, and consider future generations. Indeed, this sort of forward thinking is a powerful—even noble—motivating force for those of us involved in this often bittersweet field: public art. As we continue to remind ourselves about our world—what we know of it, what we choose to reflect, and what we leave behind—let's hope that, by the time that time capsule is opened, someone will recognize that our history was really headed in the right direction. —Jack Becker In Memory of Kate Eric son (1956-1995)

Public Art Review Managing Editor: Jack Becker Associate Editor: Regina White Copy Editors: Judy Arginteanu and Jennifer Hundley Art Director, Design: Shannon Brady FORECAST Managing Director and Desktop Production: Paula Justich Thanks to: Leslie Palmer Ross, Deborah Karasov, and Scott Coran. Cover: photos of the Murrali Federal Building during its demolition by Fitzgerald Associates, with a roadside shrine in Mexico by Sal Salerno. Printer: Ideal Printers, Inc., St. Paul, MN

FEATURES Foreword Yankee Johnson Love, Memory, Cancer: A Few Stories Suzanne Lacy W h o s e M e m o r i a l Is T h i s ? Victoria White Jochen Gerz: The Cultural Perspective James M. Clark That Was Then: Boston-Area Memorials Nick Capasso P h o t o g r a p h i c M e m o r i e s : M i y a t a k e at M a n z a n a r Michael Several Authorship & Place W i l l i a m F. C o n w a y They Are Gone ... We R e m e m b e r M o i r a F. H a r r i s

4 5 14 18 20 22 25 26

DEPARTMENTS REVIEW Light

+ Time Tower: D a l e E l d r e d ' s L a s t C o m m i s s i o n Linda Johnson Dougherty

28

PUBLIC ART SCHOOL Ars Publica: U S C ' s Public Art Studies P r o g r a m P h i l i p Pregill

29

BOOK REVIEWS The Power of Place Deborah Karasov Murals of Revolutionary Nicaragua Sal S a l e r n o Visual Display Patrice Clark Koelsch Land Art Deborah Karasov Federal Art and National Culture Bruce N. Wright English is Broken Here Sal S a l e r n o Art Lessons Patrice Clark Koelsch

30 30 31 31 32 32 33

PUBLIC ARTICLES P u b l i c A r t a n d t h e M e d i a , P a r t II Regina Flanagan and Marjorie Casey Finding Fairfield P h i l i p Pregill Vicki Scuri: Getting Site-Specific Robert Schultz Public Art for the Olympics, Atlanta '96 Glenn Harper

34 35 36 37

INTERNATIONAL BRIDGE O n T h e Edge D o w n Under: 1996 Adelaide Festival Leni S c h w e n d i n g e r and M a r k K r a m e r

38

Public Art Review is indexed by Art Index. © 1996 Public An Review (ISSN: 1040-21 lx) is published semiannually by FORECAST Public Artworks, 2324 University Avenue West, Suite 102. Saint Paul, Minnesota USA 55114 Tel. (612) 641-1128; E-Mail: forecast@mtn.org. Annual subscription dues are US $15 for USA, $20 for Canada, and $25 for foreign. Public Art Review is not responsible for unsolicited material. Please send SASE with material requiring return. Opinions expressed and validity of information herein are the responsibility of the author, not FORECAST, and FORECAST disclaims any claims made by advertisers and for images reproduced by advertisers. A list of PAR advisors and supporters is on page 40. POSTMASTER: Send change of address to Public Art Review, 2324 University Avenue West, Saint Paul, MN 55114 U.S.A.

LISTINGS Recent Projects, Newsbriefs, and Publications 42 Exhibits, Conferences, Artists' Opportunities on mailing sleeve

EULOGY Kate Ericson (1956-1995) Patricia C. Phillips

Back Cover

Note: If you are not a subscriber, and wish to obtain a free copy of "Artist Opportunities" on the mailing sleeve, send a S A S E to: PAR-Listings, 2324 University Ave. W., St. Paul. M N 55114 SPRING/SUMMER

1996 P U B L I C ART R E V I E W 3


B y

Y a n k e e

J o h n s o n

T

he fate I long shared with many if not most A m e r i c a n s is that 1 was never able to o f f e r a simple answer to the American question " W h e r e are you f r o m ? " After 1 left my childhood h o m e on the once-frontier, in a place the M o h a w k s n a m e d Schenectady because it w a s the land beyond the pines, to push west to college on the once-frontier in Kansas, in a town its settlers, d r e a m i n g of another place, called Manhattan, I was a l w a y s f r o m s o m e w h e r e else. And the farther west I pursued my not-so-manifest destiny, stopping for t w o or three or even 10 years in a new place, the more complicated it b e c a m e to account for my history. I a l w a y s felt c o m p e l l e d , like the Ancient Mariner, to recount my v o y a g e to that place, to explain why where I was f r o m w a s not a place but the sum of my vagrant experience. Within w e e k s of landing in San Jose in 1990 as the city's arts p r o g r a m director, all that began to change. In her provocative lead essay, S u z a n n e Lacy describes the controversy that erupted here over an equestrian statue of T h o m a s Fallon, intended to celebrate the raising of the U.S. flag over the M e x i c a n pueblo, but, f r o m the perspective of the large Latino population, a memorial to the humiliation of their ancestors. For nearly t w o years I was embroiled in setting up and m a n a g i n g the historical review process Lacy describes. An astonishingly diverse g r o u p of individuals was brought together, including several of the most effective anti-Fallonistas, to deliberate on c o m p l e x questions of ownership of history in a pluralistic community. Whose history has value and, having value, has the right to have its story told? W h o has the right to interpret and tell that story? Does preced e n c e convey that right? Power? Ability to p a y ? O u r challenge was tantamount to negotiating a settlement in a property dispute when every litigant can produce a valid deed of ownership. Over eight months we heard testimony, conferred with scholars and community activists, and endured polemic and sweet reason as the inhabitants of a present called Silicon Valley—shaped by migrants who dreamed and built the world's future but expunged m e m o r y — p e e l e d away the layers of its past. Beneath the industrial parks and shopping malls and f r e e w a y s lies the buried memory of the fecund Valley of the Heart's Delight, owned and operated by migrants called American because their m e m o r y looks east, worked by migrants always f r o m s o m e w h e r e else, together feeding the world. And beneath this memory lies a valle owned and operated by migrants called Mexican because their memory turns south. And beneath this, more migrants, called Spanish only because their fealty is to a remote king, while their memory turns south, where they will always be f r o m . And at the heart of memory, a people, the Ohlone, w h o were always here because they carried m e m o r y of this place and no other. T h e Pandora's box of memory was open, and political forces compelled our attention. For our relatively new public art program, Lacy's conundrum was almost our credo: " W h a t if I told you there were no such thing as public art m e m o r i a l s ? That there is art, and maybe this other thing, which is both the personal and the collective need to m e m o r i a l i z e — t o remember, acknowledge, and represent?" We believed, perhaps because we had no choice, that a public art memorial should be possible if we could draw and maintain a clean line between the "collective need to memorialize" a subject and the artist's transformative process in art-making. We also knew that if we were unable to focus public discussion on public art issues, w e would be overwhelmed by d e m a n d for what Nick C a p a s s o describes as "static icons in bronze."

4 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

1996

It was in order to investigate this nexus between art and memorial that we undertook a public art preconference, The Public Art of Re-Collection, with the National Assembly of Local Arts Agencies at its annual convention in San Jose last June. We were surprised to learn that Public Art Review was also planning to address the issue of memorials. Clearly, we were not alone. Public art programs throughout the country are struggling to address proliferating d e m a n d s for memorials f r o m groups who felt they had no place in the public memory, or that the place they had was insulting. A f r i c a n - A m e r i c a n s . W o m e n . Native Americans. People with A I D S . J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n s w r o n g f u l l y interned. F i r e f i g h t e r s and police. M e x i c a n Americans. Then, on April 19, a scant six weeks before our symposium, the b o m b i n g in O k l a h o m a City transformed a largely academic discussion a m o n g arts administrators, artists, and historians into the urgent colloquy Lacy reports, as w e all struggled with the compulsion of a c o m m u n i t y in shock to discover a way to memorialize its anguish. San Jose's public art program has engaged artists to undertake the projects that c a m e out of our historical review. We have maintained the line w e drew and provided the artists with a reasonably open field within which to develop the f o r m of their work, but w e have also asked each to enter into an active relationship with the c o m m u n i t y to understand its needs, to explore metaphors that resonate, to test ideas. I do not yet know if any of these artists will m a k e art that will solve L a c y ' s c o n u n d r u m , because our exploration is, perhaps, not so much about extending the boundaries of art-making as about creating a new public memorial art that manifests and transmits collective m e m o r y like a sacrament, inviting all c o m m u n i cants to experience the m e m o r y as theirs. If there is such a public art memorial, one of the media the artist w h o makes it will surely have to manipulate skillfully is the c o m m u n i t y itself. T w o years ago on a raw March day, I had an epiphany. The d r u m s of the San Jose Taiko G r o u p had fallen silent. A large, almost reverential crowd listened as U.S. Representative Norm Mineta, once m a y o r of the city, dedicated San J o s e ' s Japanese -American Internment Memorial by sculptor Ruth A s a w a at the threshold of the U.S. Federal Building. In the audience were children and their young parents, much too young to r e m e m b e r ; baby boomers whose parents had been taken and may have felt too ashamed to talk about it; elders w h o were divided on whether that sorrowful period should be memorialized or forgotten. We heard that when he was a boy more than 50 years ago, the congressman could not take his baseball bat to the c a m p s , because that tool of the American pastime could also be a weapon. A l t h o u g h the toddler I was in 1942 had been 3 , 0 0 0 miles distant, although the points through which our ancestors passed on their A m e r i c a n o d y s s e y s . Angel and Ellis islands, were likewise a continent apart, I was struck that this m e m o r y — o f anguish unjustly inflicted and s u f f e r e d with dignity, of the tragic fruits of fear and s u s p i c i o n — h a d b e c o m e my m e m o r y , and I felt enlarged. After all those years in so many borrowed places, my answer to the American question b e c a m e simple: "Here, I ' m f r o m here." Yankee Johnson has been arts program director of the city of San Jose, CA, since 1990. He organized the "Public Art of ReCollection: A Commemorative Art Symposium," held in June 1995. Johnson wrote and saw through passage one of the earliest percentfor-art ordinances, in 1973, in King County, WA.


The Murrah building on May 23,1995, just prior to its demolition, (photo: Fitzgerald Associates)

A FEW S B y

S u z a n n e

L a c y

Editor's note: Suzanne Lacy attended the preconference "The Public Art of Re-Collection," for the 1995 National Assembly of Local Art Agencies annual conference held in June in San Jose, CA. P u b l i c A r t R e v i e w is grateful to San Jose's Office of Cultural Affairs for sponsoring this essay.

I. LOVE AND MEMORY

W

here does the desire to capture and represent m e m o r y c o m e f r o m ?

It was way too late as w e sat around the table that night at the conference in San J o s e — a b o u t 10:30, but no one wanted to leave. T h e feeling of connection between the 10 or so people there was palpable; not unlike lingering over an especially engaging dinner conversation, or m a y b e more like people w h o have been through one of life's great experiences together and were reluctant to quit each other's c o m p a n y for fear of falling back into that unexamined routine that passes most of the time f o r everyday life. It was the savoring of an intimacy ignited by shared trauma. A group of ordinary and u n a s s u m i n g people were discussing the rather a w e s o m e task of creating a memorial for the O k l a h o m a City b o m b i n g . 1 A group of people with a great awareness of the portentousness of their j o b ; a g r o u p of people in love. They said: "It's a point in time none of us want to lose. It's life-changing; we are changed." "It is a transformed c o m m u n i t y that has c o m e together in O k l a h o m a . " And they said: " S o many of us feel we haven't done our share; w e Shawna Jenkins, 14, partici feel guilt that w e were the survivors." pated in Tim Rollins's Teens " W e ' v e served all the food w e can, and now w e workshop for relatives of need to d o something else." bombing victims, (photo: G. Jill Evans, courtesy Oklahoma Arts Institute)

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 7


T h e contingent of arts administrators, lawyers, artists, business people, and teachers f r o m O k l a h o m a each carried their private m e m o r i e s of the b o m b i n g . They had recounted them over and over, the litany of r e m e m b e r e d m o m e n t s f o r m i n g a private monument in their minds. But now they wanted to know: What is the proper starting point, and how d o you make a public m e m o r i a l ? Unlike other w o r k s of public art, or perhaps like such work but more salient in this case, the urge to memorialize is perceived as a right and is closely guarded. W h o has the right to publicly r e m e m b e r , and how, and w h e r e ? Could a California curator hang a painting by a Peruvian artist in m e m o r y of those w h o died in the O k l a h o m a b o m b i n g , flying in f r o m the coast to hang the 14b y - 4 8 - f o o t mural f r o m the roof of a prominent downtown building? 2 O n e did, and it was received with indignation by some in a c o m m u n i t y that felt itself besieged by carpetbagging news c a m eras, investigators, social scientists, and, apparently, public artists. They said,"Everybody wants to get in on the act, and a n u m b e r of them have convinced themselves they've done something for O k l a h o m a City." " L i k e a family deciding on a tombstone, it's a personal thing that c o m p e l s O k l a h o m a n s to want to memorialize this." T h e notion that a memorial was needed seemed to fairly leap f r o m the public mind. Hundreds of residents sent in unsolicited sketches of their vision for this memorial. T h e contingent from O k l a h o m a City, optimistic about the healing potential of a truly public m o n u m e n t , wanted to slow down this spontaneous public process. Not the generous r a n d o m and individual acts that f r o m the beginning had cropped up, photos and flowers and toy animals anonymously left in public places. No, they worried about how to formulate and represent collective memory with integrity, in a constructive manner. People, ordinary people, had quite definite opinions about what the memorial should be, their ideas zeroing in on City Hall like separate missiles on a collision course. H o w to satisfy this intense public desire? What might result f r o m so many thwarted expectations, so many rejected sailors? W h a t kind of artwork dared enter a situation so loaded with multiple desires? "We heard hundreds of stories f r o m people—all those perspectives on a single event." "We are nervous that the process of m a k i n g a memorial could reveal the cracks in the community."

The mixed-ethnicity and white, often older, residents in the middle- and working-class apartments that border the lake r e m e m b e r a time when the lake was free of the litter, noise, congested traffic, and rowdy behavior. They call the police, w h o have now restricted access to the road bordering the lake on Sunday afternoons. In the city council there is talk of curfews and cruising laws. Early one June evening in 1994 this border tension escalated into a war, according to media reports that went out across the country. Oakland youth, said newscasters, had rioted, and on television a young man putting his foot through a storefront window became through instant replay an icon in the fresh memory of a nation afraid of its offspring. W h o decided that this m o m e n t a m o n g all others that day would be memorialized? Because Oakland youth speaking for themselves r e m e m bered it quite differently. 3

III. THE HORSEMAN STRADDLING THE FAULT LINE Down the road f r o m Oakland in nearby San Jose lies another fault line, the one between the large Latino and the " m a j o r i t y " white population. Passage of California Proposition 187 in 1994 attempted to restrict education and medical care to children of immigrants and signaled the severity of this rupture to the nation. 4 But for those of us living here with any notion of the state's history the conflict is older than my childhood memories, is centuries old. Throughout all those years the same struggle persists: W h o has a right to the land, the streets, and the culture—in this case of San J o s e — a n d whose version of history will be r e m e m b e r e d ? The interpretation of California's historical events is critical to the definition of an entire race of people w h o live there, and the irony is how appreciably the state's culture is influenced by the decades of immigrants f r o m Mexico. The erasure of this heritage is so great that street names in Spanish must be pronounced in English to be understood. The Southwest, with its popular culture derived f r o m Spanish, Indian, and Mexican traditions and iconography is, ironically, the h o m e of a movement to stop the spread of Spanish speaking. Here in San Jose, the city decided in 1990 to erect a statue of an early mayor, Capt. T h o m a s Fallon, astride his horse, planting the U.S. flag that signified victory over Mexico. 5 This equestrian urge in San Jose should c o m e as no surprise to us. The memorial impulse in this country, according to critic and curator Nick Capasso, has been largely triggered by war, victory, and conquest [see "That Was Then," p. 20], We have a tradition of representational statues generally dedicated to reinforcing authority, interpreting significant events in culturally specific ways, and eulogizing idealized and heroic traits that support particular views of history. O f t e n these ideals are vested in a single person, often a white man, often a military or political figure. White soldiers w h o "settled" the West had rituals where meaning was conveyed by displays of weapons, marching parades, and costumes, according to Barbara Booher of the National Park Service. M e a n w h i l e , on the same land. Native A m e r i c a n s r e m e m b e r e d their battles with enactments of j o u r n e y s f r o m home, c o m m u n a l grieving, and prayers to accompany fallen warriors into the next land—all interpreted by whites as "celebrating": Contrasts, says Booher, in the expression and meaning of patriotism. For non-Indians, patriotism represented power and success. For Indians, patriotism was the expression of what they held sacred—rituals of longing, suffering, and hope. Earlier this century, when artists were faced with the task of c o m m e m o r a t i n g groups or abstract notions like patriotism,

Who has a right to publicly remember, and how and where?

II. CRACKS IN OUR COMMUNITIES Every sunny s u m m e r Sunday afternoon in Oakland, C A , hundreds of black teenagers migrate to Lake Merritt, c o m i n g in their cars for those w h o have them, by bus, or walking f r o m the nearby Bay Area Rapid Transit station. They c o m e with their music in tow, in bright and baggy and trendy and s o m e t i m e s scanty w a r m - w e a t h e r clothes. They drink soda p o p purchased f r o m nearby liquor stores and laugh a lot and call out to friends and generally cruise each other, appreciatively checking out the opposite sex. They are full of that particular vibrancy of youth, especially black youth, and they are intent on having a great time at this unofficially designated center of the city. They see it as their place; it houses their memories of many such Sunday afterBronze sculpture of Capt. noons. Interestingly, it may be said to Thomas Fallon after it house their parents' memories too, of emerged from the foundry in small towns where grandmothers sat on Italy, in late 1989. (photo: porch swings in the summers talking courtesy San Jose Office of across the yard to each other, and young Cultural Affairs) people prepared for picnics.

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according to author and educator Michele Bogart, they turned to allegory and the a n o n y m o u s figure, where the one stands for the many. In recent years our notion of " m a n y " has multiplied—times race, times gender, times age, ability, and social circumstance. The public is no longer unified, nor can we assume a singular set of experiences or interpretations about the meaning of historical acts. Allegory is contestable; the a n o n y m o u s figure is loaded with values no longer able to be hidden in stone and bronze. So in 1988 it was proposed that the captain and his horse occupy a prominent place in the center of d o w n t o w n San Jose, it should have c o m e as no surprise that the large, vocal, and thriving Latino population reacted with great indignation to this particular interpretation of history. As San Francisco artist Joe Sam says, history is an act of forgetting as well as r e m e m b e r i n g . Something critical had been forgotten. T h e controversy erupted when Latino activists discovered the plan for the second invasion of Capt. Fallon. According to Blanca Alvarado, at that time the only Latina on the city council, the failure to notice that the original Pueblo San Jose de G u a d a l u p e was f o r m e d in 1777 by M e x i c a n f a r m e r s and their f a m i l i e s meant that the true settlers, the native indigenous people (not to mention the Mexicans w h o succeeded them) would be erased f r o m public memory. The m o n u m e n t that c o m m e m o r a t e d what many considered an expression of E u r o p e a n - A m e r i c a n pre-eminent rights b e c a m e the impetus for a citywide planning process that asked some of the most political questions surrounding today's public remembering. After four months of intense controversy, the city council established a historic art advisory committee to advise on the disposition of the statue and. more important, on other versions of history to be c o m m e m o r a t e d . In a city that had destroyed much of its past—torn it d o w n for highways and shopping malls—the committee m e m b e r s developed a plan to restore the past. Without eliminating the eventual placement of the Fallon statue, they put four historical m o m e n t s in line in front of it. As Javier Salazar, director at the Aztlan Academy, related on one panel, "San J o s e ' s current Latino residents are highly educated in their sense of cultural values, in w h o they are and their relationship to families. We have a right to express w h o we are. San Jose is our place too."

IV. THE LANDSCAPE OF OUR LONGING Recent memorials, says Nick Capasso, highlight the role of individual audience subjectivity as a key element in the construction of memory. They point to the conflicted nature of m e m o r y itself, emphasizing that the art of m e m o r y is a political process, operating in a larger public sphere. S o m e m o n u m e n t s , such as the constellation of three V i e t n a m m e m o r i a l s in Washington, b e c o m e a total site of conflicting interpretations by c o m m i s s i o n e d artists, overlaid with personal memories left by the huge numbers of visitors. The interpretation of history is inextricable f r o m issues of race, class, and gender. We are a nation in the midst of telling our sto-

ries in order to preserve t e n a c i o u s l y — o r reconstruct d e f i a n t l y — history. This telling has f o u n d its way into public art. F r o m the W P A murals in the ' 3 0 s to the feminist m o v e m e n t in the ' 7 0 s , bringing to light the experiences of individuals has been seen as a way to represent and challenge the social positions of g r o u p s of people. M u c h might be healed by revealing individual and collective. half-hidden, uncelebrated, and u n k n o w n histories. H o w e v e r , it is easy to sentimentalize the notion of such stories in public art, not unlike an earlier r o m a n c e with generals on horseback. Telling these stories, whether through art, media, or m o n u m e n t s , is not in itself enough to shake the bedrock that is our need for a singular and unified social reality. Multiple v i e w s on w h i c h m e m o r i e s to publicly preserve test our ability to orient ourselves in a constantly shifting field of present meaning. San Francisco artist A m a l i a M e s a - B a i n s calls the C a l i f o r n i a landscape, peopled with large c o m m u n i t i e s of M e x i c a n and Latin-American descendants, a "landscape of longing." 6 T h e y leave their h o m e s , she says, and c o m i n g f r o m a distant place, they bring with them that way of walking, that way of talking, that m a n n e r of relating. T h e stories in the social practices, the street life, the back yards and living r o o m s of their present neighborhoods reveal a history of deportation, e c o n o m i c oppression, and cultural co-optation, yes, but also m e m o r i e s f r o m a f a r a w a y place—of pride, family strength, music, visual expression, a sense of the land, the value of work, clear c o m m u n i c a t i o n , joy, and political e n g a g e m e n t .

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T h e s e same m e m o r i e s , stories, and longings are also found T h o u g h played as conflicts on the screen of contemporary culoutside the barrios, lying like ghosts over the landscape, hidden ture, the differences between us might be better interpreted as to s o m e of us within the institutions and f u n c t i o n s of daily life. expressions of an infinite series of longings—multiple realities Look at railroads, says Mesa-Bains, and you will see a monusaying to each other, does this makes sense? Can we inhabit the ment to the history of the Chinese in the West. Look at the agrisame landscape? Like the people f r o m O k l a h o m a City wonderculture of California and you will see the history of the Mexicans ing how to represent thousands of different perspectives in a sinw h o c a m e here to develop it. That C a l i f o r n i a ' s vast fields might gle event, we long for unity as for solid ground. But whose view not exclusively represent the story of f a r m e r s is c o n f u s i n g , even of unity? As Mesa-Bains says, it would be the boldest gesture of frightening, to many people. It's as if what s o m e of us perceive all to stage " w h i t e n e s s " not at the center of the dialogue but as as reality is impossibly fluctuating and w e long for a single, one of many in a country of difference. To d o that we must first believable truth. Certainty is questioned, centrality is challenged, understand not all of us live in the same land. and like the California land that m o v e s unexpectedly under our feet, w e no longer k n o w w h o s e history to believe. V. IN LOVE AND IN WAR O n a panel at the public art conference, Italian-American I am an artist. I live in a world where the borders between architect Sal C a r u s o explained his opposition to the placement of my own fantasy and what I presume to be others' realities are Robert G r a h a m ' s sculpture of the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl, often unclear. Things are impossibly relative and fluctuating. 1 Plumed Serpent, meant to represent the rich, diverse, and comtrust this world very little, constantly asking those close to me: plex history of the Mexican people. 7 T h e sculpture was intended Does what I am saying make sense? Interpreted: A m I sharing to occupy a place of p r o m i n e n c e in the center of San Jose. that world you and others inhabit, or am 1 once again out on the C o m i n g in the w a k e of the Fallon controversy, even in form this tree limb, hanging precariously? I make art to hold onto the tightly-coiled s e r p e n t — a squat, dense, eye-level mound of cast branch. My happiest m o m e n t s are when 1 bring you into my s t o n e — c h a l l e n g e d the aesthetic of horse soldiers looming high world through art, feel connected with everything, not unlike a b o v e their viewers. In j u s t i f y i n g his opposibeing in love. I long for art to repair the ruption to the Quetzalcoatl sculpture, the architect tures, real and imagined, between you and me, referred to his own ethnic Italian heritage in me and the world. parallel to that of Mexican-Americans. We all We experience our longings and are moved have a story to tell, he says, so why this to act. Artists experience their desire and make M e x i c a n one and not another? He struggled to art. C o m m u n i t i e s are drawn together in empacentralize his experience, to reclaim the priorithy, guilt, sorrow, and love, and they are a f a m ty of his perception of the world before the ily again in the aftermath of a bombing. In their audience of public artists and administrators. longing to maintain their connection and in He had nothing against Mexican culture, he their fear of slowly growing apart in that unexsays; this was about fair play, and whose memamined routine that passes for daily life, they ories would be in the center of the city. want to make a memorial. Like a family decidPlumed Serpent by Robert Graham, We miss the point if we think that the issue ing upon a tombstone, they want something to 1994. (photo: courtesy San Jose of representation in public art has to do with remind them of what is precious, what is true Office of Cultural Affairs) w h e t h e r or not you are in touch with your own about who they are with each other. particular ethnicity, whether you like people of M e m o r y stimulates desire, and desire c o m other ethnicities, or even whether your own ancestors went pels action. Is there a difference between individual or familial through a period of encountering prejudice in this country. This memorializing and the collective enterprise of the public? is not simply a "let's all be equal and tell the stories of e v e r y o n e " Should giving shape to this c o m m u n a l r e m e m b e r i n g c o m e f r o m sort of thing. T h e zealous guarding of the privilege to create pubthe artist, empathetically moved to aesthetic action, or f r o m the lic m e m o r y is as political as our fierce urge to protect the world " c o m m u n i t y , " the experiencing subjects and the authentic heirs as w e see and understand it. to the legacy of this m e m o r y ? W h o can be trusted to tell the story A man of Italian origin is not in the same country as a man of with accuracy, with heart, with the correct shading of the many M e x i c a n heritage, in the California of Proposition 187 and disinindividually-held memories, and those consensually-held myths tegrating affirmative action. We are constructing with physical that are thought of as m e m o r i e s ? presence and ideology a social landscape that is represented in Out of w h o s e longing does an artist act? T h e artist reaches the look and feel of our shared public spaces. Forms of cultural out to restore connection with others through art, and in so expression will determine whether we promenade on the streets, doing codifies memory, which is endlessly interpretable. But sit on porch swings, or do our visiting indoors; whether w e fill public memorials by nature are meant to express collective, not the Lake Merritt neighborhood with boisterous talk or pass cruisindividual, memory. Aside f r o m the question of whether collecing restrictions; and whether houses will be beige or bright blue, tive m e m o r y is possible, or perhaps within the context of this with f e n c e s or without, or, as in Vancouver, where recent Hong question, the role of the artist in the endeavor of constructing Kong i m m i g r a n t s c o n f o u n d e d resident Canadians by cutting history and transforming our experience of the contemporary d o w n trees in their yards to build bigger houses. W h a t kind of landscape is contested and politicized. This was amply d e m o n music will we hear in the streets, if any—insistent rap on Grand strated in the construction of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Avenue in Oakland, salsa on Second Street in San Jose? Washington, D C . A f t e r m u c h dissension the c o m p r o m i s e W h i l e it m a y a p p e a r that retrofitting our public spaces for the reached on installing Frederick H a r t ' s statue. The Three c o m f o r t of m a n y kinds of people is the current multicultural Servicemen, near (but not, as originally proposed, at the apex endeavor, this does not speak to the heart of things—the right to of) M a y a Lin's wall, served to initiate a competing proliferation be w h o you are. T h e politics of identity are based not only in ecoof w a r m e m o r i a l s . A c c o r d i n g to J a m e s Reston in " T h e n o m i c resources but in the privilege of an embracing public M o n u m e n t Glut," a federally-funded, presidential-appointed sphere that allows a people to d e f i n e itself and explore the c o m panel called the American Battle M o n u m e n t s Commission plexities of its own image. Multiculturalism flourishes not as a seems to have assigned itself the mission "to reclaim the war contest for history but as a desire to be recognized, to be seen in memorial business for the generals, colonels, veterans, corporelation to others, to have o n e ' s memories, style, and traditions rate chiefs, and Medal of H o n o r winners w h o lost control of the f o u n d m e a n i n g f u l through the occupation of public space. process (to artists!) with the Vietnam M e m o r i a l . " 8

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The longing to connect has its hazards. Inevitably the separate consciousness that reaches across difference perceives reality from its own tunnel vision, uses its own personal and cultural symbols to understand. If the impetus to c o m m e m o rate starts with the artist, if it is what we might call an artist-initiated public artwork, how do we determine the authenticity of the artist's intention, the accuracy of the artist's perception of events and meanings? W h o gives this artist the right to speak for a particular experience or culture or moment in time? Sculptor Robert Graham seemed to speak for the Mexican heritage population in San Jose through his rendition of Quetzalcoatl. Was it because he was born in Mexico, because he is a fine and seasoned artist, or because he was able to decipher the region's collective cultural mind and create an image that spoke broadly to those it was meant to represent? A point might be taken that only an O k l a h o m a n could speak for the experience of the bombing. At the public art conference s o m e o n e f r o m that city limited it further: Only the families of the victims should be involved in making this memorial. Competing consciousnesses, legitimized by claims to authenticity of experience: Might we distinguish between a Seattle artist, Beliz Brother, w h o memorialized through re-enactment the poetic gesture of a cellist in war-torn Sarajevo on the streets of Washington, DC, f r o m a Californian w h o flew a Peruvian mural atop a high building after the b o m b i n g in O k l a h o m a City? The mural, a larger version of a painting by Mario Torero called The Child, was displayed on the Myriad Convention Center for three weeks, brought there by its self-designated curator Dan Garcia to express the sentiments of all those w h o wanted to help O k l a h o m a City but couldn't. "I have c o m e , " he said, "so we can be linked together in love and support with the people here w h o have been through this, both those w h o have been lost as well as those w h o remain." The original painting has been displayed at the Vatican since 1379, and Garcia, a security c o m p a n y e m p l o y ee, has spent 16 years transporting the mural version to sites all over the world. "I just felt that I had something that was a gift f r o m God that was brought through the artist and given to me to share—it is clean, it is that simple." 9 Beliz Brother arranged for cellists to play T o m a s o Albinoni's Adagio en Sol Mineur on street corners and in the foyers of public and federal buildings in two American cities. This imitative act honored Vedran Smailovic, w h o for 22 days played the same adagio, amidst continued shelling and sniper fire, in front of the bakery in Sarajevo where 22 people had been blown up while waiting in line for their b r e a d — a war hero with cello, not horse, r e m e m b e r e d for brave acts in a distant country. This is the stuff of memorials, yet this one lives on through the same mass media that brought us, and Brother, the initial story of valor. B r o t h e r ' s art memorial was, one gathers f r o m the news reports, appreciatively received. A longing to connect the great distances—across oceans and land masses, different languages and cultures, between any two people in the same room. But in O k l a h o m a City, according to reports f r o m those at the public art conference, the banner that was meant to encourage local residents and relay the sympathy of the world was deeply o f f e n s i v e . Was it because the mural w a s p r e c o n c e i v e d , a Hallmark card m a d e for other less site-specific situations, and

seemed only a generic response to the specificity of the O k l a h o m a n s ' tragedy? Or had the residents there closed ranks, a family barricaded against the invasion of others, no matter h o w well-intentioned? Jackie Jones, director of the O k l a h o m a City Arts Council, felt, as did m a n y citizens, that it was just not an image that spoke to the situation. Were the residents of Seattle less involved in the m e m o r y f r o m Bosnia, it not being theirs, after all, and the S a r a j e v a n s not around to claim o w n e r s h i p ? It seems clear that B r o t h e r ' s living memorial originated in the artist's own desire, one that called her to act. She certainly did not go through a consultation process with the Sarajevan residents w h o m the piece urged us to r e m e m ber, nor did anyone c o m m i s s i o n her to m a k e a memorial. Yet the r e s i d e n t s of Seattle w e r e a p p r e c i a t i v e , and r e s i d e n t s of O k l a h o m a not, of these t w o individually-motivated gestures. O n e wonders why. Was his act e n o u g h ? W a s hers r e d u n d a n t ? To answer this w e must look at the specific cultural context of each gesture and its political meaning and potential consequence. O k l a h o m a City did not need to be recalled to our collective attention. In the aftermath of the b o m b i n g the full force of media attention descended upon the region, turning over each stone in the rubble with opportunistic vengeance. R e m i n d i n g us of the b o m b i n g in O k l a h o m a b e f o r e its citizens had time to bury the bodies was different than urging us to continue to hold in mind a tragedy in a country on the other side of the world. T h e O k l a h o m a City mural served only to decorate the side of a building that, still standing near the site of the b o m b i n g , was by itself testimony to the city's survival. The response of the artwork was not sufficient to merit its time and place, a gesture in a space already filled with c o m p e t ing m e m o r i e s and intimate yet a n o n y m o u s acts by those w h o lived there. Perhaps the o f f e n s e was that the mural was not able to inspire any further connection in a people already deeply b o n d e d by circumstance. It served no memorial function, preserved no memories, seemed only, in its sympathy, to refer to itself. S o m e m e m o r i e s w e ' d rather forget. T h e attention of the rest of the world even today alternately f o c u s e s on, then ignores, the

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h u m a n rights violations in an incomprehensible war in what was once Yugoslavia. B r o t h e r ' s Adagio, its empathy motivated by personal longing, resonates with a p r o f o u n d moral d i l e m m a that c o n f r o n t s us all and reminds us of our need to act. T h e American g o v e r n m e n t appears to turn a deaf ear, in a m a n n e r that for s o m e is reminiscent of its response to the slaughter of European Jews during World War II. T h e question that looms today is whether or to what extent the United States should intervene in what is widely agreed upon as a crime against humanity. The Nuremberg trials established the right to intervene in g e n o c i d e — t h e final and ultimate denial of a p e o p l e ' s right to both physical and cultural place, n o w and in the future. As the Nazis well understood when they burned b o o k s and destroyed cemeteries, a m a j o r task of g e n o c i d e is the erasure of memory. An encounter with Brother's Adagio on the streets of the United States, though small in the scheme of things, is not unlike a visit to a memorial, causing those of us who chanced upon it to remember what w e would like to forget. Its music arousing our desire and longing, it held another landscape up to view, urging us to act.

VI. THE WOODEN SOLDIER At the entrance to Central Park in Manhattan is Saint-Gaudens' recently restored 1903 bronze equestrian m o n u m e n t to the Civil War's General William Tecumseh Sherman. For a brief time, its shadow was occupied by another rider astride a lone horse. This wooden (Indian? AfricanAmerican?) man, created as a temporary installation by Judith Shea for the Public Art Fund, was indeed a s h a d o w — a black matte-painted figure carved out of pressure-treated wood and Judith Shea's The Other m o u n t e d on a pedestal. In a Monument (above), 8/94-3/95; review of The Other Monument, and Augustus Saint-Gaudens' Hilton K r a m e r criticizes the The William Tecumseh Sherman accuracy and authenticity of the Monument, 1892-1903, both in version of history implied by Central Park, (photos: courtesy Shea's installation. 1 0 Upholding Public Art Fund) both the values and aesthetic traditions of the 1903 commissioners of the Saint-Gaudens' memorial, Kramer states, "the Sherman monument c o m m a n d s immense dignity, and for the dwindling number of people in our amnesiac society who know what this sculpture signifies, it serves its public function with exemplary craft and an appropriate respect for its subject." He concludes with a call for a moratorium on public art: "Given the woeful decline in both the quality and meaning of public art in recent years, isn't it time for the whole issue to be reconsidered? ... Let's face it: Our society and our culture are too divided to be able to agree on the symbols, never mind the artistic standards, that are essential to the creation of public m o n u m e n t s if they are to serve anything but a factional interest." Public art and memorials seamlessly coalesce into a c o m m o n entity in his rhetoric, and it is clearly public art that in K r a m e r ' s mind represents and perhaps even creates a hopelessly divided and factional culture. A widespread misunderstanding and distrust of living artists and a p r o f o u n d lack of education in contemporary art c o m b i n e to create a public that often wants, like

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Kramer, to dictate f o r m and style as well as the content of their memorials. T h e selection committee for the Black Revolutionary War Patriots Memorial understood in their bones the deep disrespect for and misrepresentation of the history of AfricanAmericans and how that shaped their current experience. It was clear f r o m the beginning, says art consultant Frangoise Yohalem, that this was to be an event in A m e r i c a ' s racial landscape that addressed the wrongs of history and corrected years of neglect and injustice. W h e n Yohalem c a m e on board to administer the artist selection process, much of the preliminary work had already been done by the m e m o rial design committee. A p o w e r f u l architect and landscape architect team had been working on site Ed Dwight's Black Revolutionary studies, and a Black Patriots War Patriots Memorial 1995 M e m o r i a l F o r u m had been (photo: courtesy Frangoise conducted in local high Yohalem) schools. The ideas brought forward f r o m this process were "glory, triumph, educate, slavery, give all a sense of pride, break stereotypes, irony that blacks fought but were denied f r e e d o m . " A historian f r o m H o w a r d University was at work discussing the details of the uniforms. Yohalem showed slides of other projects, discussed goals, flexibility, and true collaboration with an artist, but in the end knew that "basically there was little I could do. This would be a m o n u m e n t of bronze warriors." In a prestigious location b e t w e e n the W a s h i n g t o n M o n u m e n t and Lincoln Memorial, the Patriots Foundation will, if they raise $7 million, take their place of pride with a representational sculpture created more or less to their specifications by the selected artist. In the public sector, the task of c o m i n g to terms with a great collectivity that is often leveling (and this desire always more powerfully operative when m e m o r y is at stake), along with stringent protective regulations, is often at war with an artist's creativity. T h e problem is confusion around the role of artists within the agenda of public memory. W h e n representational skills became less important in the visual arts field, the public lost a major criterion to evaluate who, a m o n g all those expressing themselves creatively, was in fact an artist in the professional sense. There is a pervasive fear that charlatans are loose in the cultural woodpile. However, the notion of singular authorship perpetuated by the art world belies the understanding that symbolic acts are inevitably political acts. No matter how w e ' d like to beg the question, art, intentionally or not, carries with it all the vulnerability of the competing perspectives and fluctuating realities in which we live. Artists who m a k e m o n u m e n t s of people's m e m o ries do carry the responsibility of representation in an environment where images connote and perpetuate values. How do we deal with this c o n u n d r u m of individual and collective rights, self-expression and representation? The urge to memorialize is expressed in many ways: in the establishment of historical homes and m u s e u m s and c o m m e m o rative stamps and scholarships, in diaries and book dedications, on tombstones, and through naming our streets and leaving flowers a n o n y m o u s l y in them. All of this may or may not be artful, and may or may not be well crafted, but it is not necessarily the art-making that is at the forward edge of the constantly evolving field of visual art. It is important to understand the larger context of art discourse within which we operate as artists and administrators in the public sphere. Visual art is not simply craft or selfexpression, but primarily a philosophical inquiry. Public art is art that inquires about social space, including media space and the


space of collective thought. So the making and interpreting of public art is an attempt to understand what we are doing in art, and, through art as a metaphor, to understand what we are doing in life, with each other. Urban theorist Michael Dear points out that social relations are constituted within space, constrained by space, and mediated by s p a c e . " Much art and virtually all memorial-making is an attempt to define, enhance, or transform public space. Here is where the two c o m e together, and this might be why Hilton Kramer, speaking of Judith S h e a ' s The Other Monument, does not distinguish between public art, derived f r o m visual art with its unlimited sources and artistic intentions, and memorial making, often motivated by politics and meant to express a version of collective desire. Disguised as a critique about quality and aesthetics, Kramer understands full well that what is at stake is in fact different notions of history, different values. T h e tradition of the art avantgarde since World War I has been to challenge the world's realities and the conventions encouraging them; as J a m e s Young says, "Artists and m o n u m e n t makers vociferously resisted traditional mimetic and heroic evocations of events, contending that any such r e m e m b r a n c e would elevate and mythologize events ... (but) neither public nor state seemed ready to abide memorial edifices built on f o u n d a t i o n s of doubt instead of valor." 1 2 S h e a ' s Other Monument is clearly built on doubt, of transient wood rather than permanently enduring bronze, a mute but eloquent critique of soldiers on horses and a plea to broaden the circle of inclusion, to multiply memories, to level the cultural playing field.

VII. CALLE DE ETERNIDAD:

ON BROADWAY

1 r e m e m b e r when I used to live in d o w n t o w n Los Angeles, near the street called Broadway that runs through the urban core. On either side of that street, what Michael Davis has called the "fortressing" of Los Angeles continues: the construction of huge buildings with impervious facades of mirror and stone and small self-sufficient cities inside. Only initiates of specific race and class k n o w how to occupy their carefully guarded internal " p u b l i c " spaces. But outside on Broadway a thriving, teeming, and broadly accessible center of public life spins—the life of 4 0 percent of the Los Angeles population that is of Latin heritage. To walk d o w n Broadway is to be transported to the centro of a large city in Mexico, with its music, open-air markets, Spanish-language advertisements and movies, merchants hawking their wares, and street vendadores selling fresh fruit and tacos. I have lots of m e m o r i e s of Broadway, the street LA artist Judy Baca says was called Calle de Eternidad many decades a g o — t h e Street of Eternity, the Eternal Street. She says that those w h o have re-inhabited it have begun to refer to it again by its Spanish name. O n e of the ironies, or at least difficulties, of public memorials is that they are meant to be representations of a past m o m e n t brought into present time and projected into the future. W h o are we serving, the c o m m u n i t y now, or those w h o will inhabit this land 100 years f r o m now? The Native Americans of California, those people of Mexican descent w h o named the Calle de Eternidad, the white culture that transplanted them and named the street Broadway, the homeless and indigent w h o later took over the street, or finally, the more recent Latino immigrants and Chicanos w h o now promenade, shop, and eat there? In our culture of translocation and immigration, the c o m m u n i t y of today will be a d i f f e r e n t ethnicity tomotTow. And in the tomorrow after that, it is likely that totally new mixtures of ethnicity will occur, are already occurring, as a visit to any inner-city high school in Oakland reveals.

In m a k i n g a m o n u m e n t a l mural relief in the M o s c o n e C e n t e r lobby in San Francisco, artist Hung Liu used the relics unearthed in the building's e x c a v a t i o n — o l d C o c a Cola bottles and shards of Native American pottery f r o m a burial ground beneath the site. She wondered what constitutes a cultural relic. T i m e operates on objects as it does on m e m o r y — c l a r i f y i n g , obscuring, challenging, enhancing, and ultimately defeating them. M e m o r i a l s — c o d i f i e d m e m o r y — r e s t within the construct of time, but the perception of time is relative, impossibly fluctuating, and influenced by cultural variables and individual experience. In fact, historical " a c c u r a c y " m a y not be more important than any other social agreement w e evidence through our public m o n u m e n t s — f o r example, a g r e e m e n t s on what w e value. R e m e m b e r i n g and forgetting: W h a t m e m o r i e s lie in the land under our feet as w e walk d o w n B r o a d w a y in Los A n g e l e s ? T h e cobblestoned approach to the Saarbrucker Schloss, far a w a y in Germany, contains a clandestine memorial to the grim history of the Nazis' attempt to eradicate Jewish culture, memory, and life. 1 3 In 1991, Jochen Gerz, a visiting artist in Saarbrucken, proposed to his students that they construct a secret m o n u m e n t to the destruction of Jewish cemeteries in the region during World War II [see "Jochen Gerz" p. 18], A f t e r contacting the Jewish c o m munity for lists and locations of destroyed cemeteries, the students surreptitiously dug up cobblestones, o n e at a time during the night, and engraved on each the n a m e and location of a destroyed cemetery. They replaced the stones, bearing new inscriptions, facing d o w n w a r d so they remained undetected. The venture was intentionally brought to public attention w h e n G e r z w r o t e to S a a r l a n d ' s m i n i s t e r - p r e s i d e n t , O s k a r Lafontaine. The metaphor of silencing created within the artwork needed both public awareness of its existence and the evocation of our longing to k n o w what was secreted in the ground beneath our feet. N o w as w e walk those cobblestones w e w o n d e r which of a growing n u m b e r of them are mute testaments to an attempted genocide. Lafontaine supported the venture and w a s instrumental in bringing it to a vote in the Stadverband that would m a k e the project both legal (in the beginning it w a s not) and official. He understood that this was not simply a memorial to a historical m o m e n t in Germany. It is a m o n u m e n t to Bosnia, as well, and to every place in the world where the only solution for social problems a p p e a r s to be the radical e l i m i n a t i o n of d i f f e r e n c e . Reflecting on the current rise of ethnic violence in G e r m a n y , he says, "a f e w years ago I could not have imagined that ethnic conflicts would once again b e c o m e a m a j o r issue. This being so, we should not fall behind on our own history. We should not let the ethnic view of our social being supplant the republican view. For wherever the ethnic view prevails, there is w a r . " 1 4 W h a t started as a clandestine artwork b e c a m e a public memorial by virtue of its role in a contest of perception and values. Its resonance is increased by the occurrences, in that same landscape, of s o m e of the most m o n u m e n t a l acts of ethnic hatred k n o w n to memory. This public artwork by Gerz and his students operates in physical space, but even more p r o f o u n d l y it m e a n s to take its place in our minds and memories. J a m e s Young reminds us that the first memorials to the Holocaust were f o u n d in narrative. " T h e Yizkor Kikhermemorial books r e m e m b e r e d both the lives and destruction of E u r o p e a n J e w i s h c o m m u n i t i e s according to the most ancient of Jewish memorial media: w o r d s on paper. For a murdered people without graves, without even c o r p s e s to inter, these m e m o r i a l b o o k s often c a m e to serve as s y m b o l i c tombstones."15 On the other side of the world in B u e n o s Aires, mothers of " d i s a p p e a r e d " children have kept alive in private and public m e m ory the loved ones w h o m their g o v e r n m e n t

Hung Liu's Fortune Cookie, 1995. Temporary installation in San Jose, CA. (photo: Brenda Brown)

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attempted to erase f r o m the face of the earth during Argentina's "Dirty W a r " f r o m 1976 to 1983. According to cultural planner and historian D o n n a Graves, "Without a body to serve as evidence, the mothers had no way to claim the rights of their child r e n ' s legal or social identity. T h e r e was no evidence of a crime to be investigated, charged, and prosecuted." 1 6 Since August 1977, the mothers have met each Thursday in the Plaza de M a y o in front of the Presidential Palace and marched around the obelisk c o m m e m o r a t i n g the 40th anniversary of the city's f o u n d ing. T h e y wear white head scarves and carry banners with photographs of their lost loved ones embroidered on them. For this they have been routinely attacked, their h o m e s ransacked, and f o u r mothers were abducted and murdered. After the war, the mothers rejected "the g o v e r n m e n t ' s call for national healing as another f o r m of collective a m n e s i a ... insisting on the importance of keeping their w o u n d s open, both to d e m a n d a full accounting of the fates of their sons and daughters and, equally important, because of their desire to see their children's dreams of social reform remain an active part of the political dialogue. The Mothers of the Plaza de M a y o wanted no part in ... m e m o rials which to t h e m would have signified the addition of spiritual death to the physical deaths their children have suffered." They understood the activating potential of m e m o r y that c o n t i n u e s to live as a question or challenge, an irritant of the soul.

cracks in the community. In an exquisitely f r a m e d m o m e n t , charged as they are with the privilege to reflect on the d i l e m m a of conflicting perspectives, and to respond to the challenge of collective memory, they approach their task with fear, awe, and respect f o r the sensitivity required. It seems to me these are appropriate emotions. On the street of eternity, of eternal time, what remains will only be what we hold sacred enough to preserve: our values, our understanding of the meaning of life, our will to hold onto the tree limb. Our happiest m o m e n t s may well c o m e when, as a human culture, w e can place as a priority the repairing of ruptures, real and imagined, and enter each other's world through art or love.

VIII. EPILOGUE: CANCER MEMORY, DECEMBER 1994 My brother is diagnosed with cancer. My heart is wrenched o p e n . A b r u p t l y my life is altered. S t r u g g l i n g to a d j u s t entrenched priorities, my headlong more-than-frantic schedule, I reach out in new ways to people. Unexpected m o m e n t s bring m e closer to some, others drop away. M e m o r i e s of a childhood intensely shared with my only brother flood me along with the fear. I might be about to lose one of the most important people in my life. I ponder pictures f r o m our past, trying to r e m e m b e r my brother, and hence myself, as a child. In one worn photo w e sit in the cockpit of a B-29 bomber, like the one our father flew in the war, now p e r m a n e n t l y and i n e l o q u e n t l y grounded in a small airfield in the central California San Joaquin Valley. T h e desire to capture those memories, f r a m ing and healing the potential split between my brother and me, is not unlike the desire to m a k e art. I called my brother to ask him what memories he had of our childhood. Off the top of his head, he says, he r e m e m bered playing for days with an empty refrigerator carton that we m a d e into all varieties of houses, caves, and shelters. Then he remembered the time I was playing on the powdered plasterof-paris he had pulled f r o m my d a d ' s tool shed, wet down, and spread across the patio to create an ice rink in the San Joaquin Valley of llO-degree s u m m e r afternoons. He slipped across the impervious cement surface now spread with wet clay, falling down over and over, urging me to join the fun. W h e n I finally did, I, too, fell down, and again, but that second time when I got up my hand was blood-red f r o m the glass jar that caught my fall. I, on the other hand, r e m e m b e r e d the time he put dry ice in another glass jar, and knowing full well that it would explode, he wondered exactly how long it would take as he screwed on the lid. I heard it blow up and saw the blood dripping f r o m his face as he staggered around the side of the house. Saw the cut, coincidentally at the same place that 30 years later his cancer would appear. Funny, he says, that you r e m e m b e r the times I was hurt and you patched me up and I r e m e m b e r times you were hurt. Not that I patched you up, I suppose, he mused. I asked him if he wanted to d o an installation with me next year. Coincidentally, before we knew of his cancer I had submitted a proposal, recently accepted, to do an artwork on cancer at C a p p Street Gallery in San Francisco. M a y b e this is our opportunity to do something together, I told him. Might be fun, he laughed, if I ' m still alive next year. Even if y o u ' r e not, I replied.

"Without a body to serve as evidence, the mothers had no way to claim the rights of their children's legal or social identity. There was no evidence of a crime to be investigated, charged, and prosecuted."

Ultimately the discussion about public m e m o r i a l s is not simply about events in time but about a perceived progression f r o m past to present to future. How we string events together f o r m s a direction, a n d that p e r c e i v e d direction expresses our desires, our individual and social values. W h e r e have w e c o m e f r o m , w h o are w e now, where are we g o i n g ? A f t e r all, what are memories except a kind of treasure chest of constructs that d e f i n e w h o we are—at times supporting our c o n f i d e n c e and our pride and at times limiting our notion of who we can b e c o m e ? It is the desire these m e m o r i e s provoke that drives us to act, and this is ultimately what w e want to inspire with our public representations. T h e s e are the questions that must be asked: W h a t type of longings will be captured in tangible f o r m and what is the quality and meaning of the actions that are stimulated as a result? I remember one afternoon in a C h i c a g o hotel room w h e r e painter Mary Fish and I lifted a black and white etching of two World War II jet fighter planes off the wall, slipped it f r o m its f r a m e , and altered it. In the style of Russian Constructivism—gray, red, and black bars of c o l o r — w e asked the question, " D o pictures of war breed war?" Back in the f r a m e , w e returned it to its spot and left it there, a bit of surreptitious agitprop, w h e r e it may well remain today. T h e Vietnam Veterans Memorial by M a y a Lin ultimately challenged those public glorifications of the principles of obedience, unquestioning service, and the nobility of the s u p r e m e sacrifice. T h e memorial was meant to accent tragic loss but it was seen as unpatriotic. Images represent values and values stimulate action. If men on horseback compel us to get back in the saddle and go to war, m a y b e we want to preserve a different memory, construct another notion of heroism. Jerry Allen, a longtime public arts administrator and director of the San Jose O f f i c e of Cultural Affairs, says of the heated controversy over the Quetzalcoatl memorial, "We were hanging on for dear life." Only love of art would keep us here. T h o s e charged with supervising the process to m a k e a m o n u m e n t that r e m e m b e r s the O k l a h o m a City bombing are afraid to reveal the

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Thanks to Tomas Ybarra-Frausto, Jim Clark, John Elstead, Len Hudson, and Judy Baca for conversations contributing to this article. Suzanne Lacy is dean at the School of Fine Arts, California College of Arts and Crafts. Notes: The following references were taken from presentations at the National Assembly of Local Art Agencies preconference, "The Public Art of Re-Collection." (June 1995) unless otherwise noted. 1. Bombing at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, Oklahoma City. OK, April 19. 1995. 2. Jack Money, "The 'Child Mural' Adorns Myriad in Remembrance," The Daily Oklahoman, May 12, 1995. 3. "Youth, Cops and Videotape: A Training Program for the Oakland Police Department." Series of videotaped conversations exploring the tensions and misunderstandings between Oakland youth and police officers, Oakland, CA, July 1995. An extension of ongoing teen project T. E. A. M. (Towns+Educators+Art+Media) by Suzanne Lacy, Annice Jacoby, and Chris Johnson [see PAR #13, p. 34). 4. Proposition 187 denies public services to undocumented residents and requires public employees to check legal status of immigrants. The proposition passed in California in November 1994. 5. Yankee Johnson, "Monument Making in Pluralistic Times: A Tale of

Two Locals." National Assembly of Local Arts Agencies' Monographs, February 1995. Vol. 4, No. 2. 6. I've paraphrased Amalia Mesa-Bains, who paraphrased this descriptive phrase from bell hooks. 7. Plumed Serpent, sculpture of Aztec god Quetzacoatl by Robert Graham, commissioned by the Redevelopment Agency of the City of San Jose. This $400,000 commission, contracted in 1992, was the center of intense controversy because of its placement, what it represented, its inaccessible symbolism, and its deviation from an originally-approved design. 8. James Reston Jr. "The Monument Glut," The New York Tunes Magazine, Sept. 12, 1995. p. 48. 9. Jack Money, "The 'Child Mural' Adorns Myriad In Remembrance," The Daily Oklahoman. May 12, 1995. 10. Hilton Kramer. "About That Other Monument: Don't Get Me Started." The NewYork Observer, Dec. 26. 1994-Jan. 2, 1995. 11. Amalia Mesa-Bains paraphrasing urban theorist Michael Dear. 12. James E. Young, The Texture of Memory', Yale University, 1993: p 10. 13. Michael Gibson, "A Clandestine Warning of Grim History," International Herald Tribune. December 1991. p. 18. 14. Ibid. 5. James E. Young, op cit„ p 7. 16. Donna Graves, from her panel presentation "In Living Memory: Alternative Thoughts on Memorials." at the preconference, June 1995.

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A

b o m b explodes in O k l a h o m a City. Even as bodies are pulled f r o m the rubble, schoolchildren begin to draw pictures, saddened by the horrific event. Poets wrestle with the language and put their thoughts into verse. Songwriters invent a mournful tune. Across the country and around the world, the fiery tragedy in April 1995, which killed 168 people, evoked the artist in many people: those w h o struggle to m a k e a living by art and many more w h o would scoff at the suggestion they are artists. Art b e c a m e the tool for them to react to an event that d e m a n d e d a reac-

tion, to respond to the h o m e g r o w n violence of American on American, a way to realize their individual acts of memorializing the event. In O k l a h o m a City, thousands of these artworks started pouring in to

the

mayor's

office,

the

American Red Cross, and the Arts Council m/m

Methodist

of

Oklahoma churches

sent

City. to

Methodist churches; Girl Scouts sent to Girl Scouts.

An implosion levels the bombed-out Murrah building at 7:01 a.m. on May 23,1995. (photo: Fitzgerald Associates)

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S o m e bore hellish, disturbing imagery. Others were peaceful quilts listing names of the victims. Suggestions were mailed in as well: Do a Christo-like shrouding of the destroyed Murrah federal building; sculpt the f a m o u s image of the firefighter carrying out the dead baby. As the weeks passed and the individual memorials continued to arrive through transoms throughout the city, O k l a h o m a City M a y o r Ron N o r i c k a p p o i n t e d a task f o r c e c o m p o s e d of O k l a h o m a community leaders, arts professionals, b o m b i n g survivors, and victims' family m e m b e r s to begin working toward an official, national memorial. T h e works that showed up unsolicited are being collected and archived, perhaps to b e c o m e part of the official memorial, perhaps not. " T h e m a y o r decided if w e [didn't] start some formalized effort, [it would] start on its o w n , " says Jackie Jones, executive director of the Arts Council of O k l a h o m a City and a m e m b e r of the task force. Memorials begin in all sorts of ways, first in the heads of individuals or demanded simultaneously by throngs accustomed to the convention that Big Events and Big People are so remembered. Turning ideas into an official memorial is tricky; it means balancing political interests, navigating bureaucracies, attracting moral and financial support f r o m the public, and, with any luck, enticing enough talent in the art world to commit to a project that must represent more than an artist's singular vision. It is a process that sometimes derails through lack of funds, political schisms that can't be healed, disagreements over whether the subject is worthy of such attention, or political calculations that seem far removed f r o m the matter at hand. The process is difficult, but it is the mechanism that bestows a measure of legitimacy on a project, that makes public art public. The O k l a h o m a City bombing, for example, cannot be c o m m e m o r a t e d in Washington until

2020, because federal law mandates that non-military m e m o rials must wait until after the 25th anniversary of the event. Outside Washington, the process is not so strictly governed. M e m o r i a l s can be built on private land in a s o m e t i m e s wholly private process, then acquired by the National Park Service for perpetual maintenance. They may be built on federal lands, in or near federal buildings, through the General Services A d m i n istration's usual process for acquiring artwork. The O k l a h o m a City memorial is a hybrid of those t w o methods: It is being built on federal land, but the G S A largely has stepped back, allowing O k l a h o m a City to plan it as it sees fit. But memorials that may be venerated today for their perceived message may have arisen f r o m less than noble g o a l s — t h e gigantic heads on M o u n t R u s h m o r e started as an idea to draw sightseers. T h e idea of a memorial to Vietnam veterans was the brainchild of Vietnam veterans, w h o f o r m e d a non-profit organization and set forth the goals of the memorial. T h e memorial, according to its World Wide W e b page, was to be reflective and contemplative in character, h a r m o n i z e with its surroundings and contain the n a m e s of all w h o died in the w a r or remained missing. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund Inc. raised money and solicited designs through a competition. F r o m the more than 1,400 entries, the design by 21-year-old Yale student M a y a Lin w a s chosen by a j u r y of art experts and the choice was approved by the memorial f u n d . Lin's memorial has so often been called stirring that ladling on such praise here is unnecessary. Nonetheless, the selection of her design ignited a public battle, with loud claims that the memorial was inappropriate and did not represent w h o it was supposed to represent.

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For Paul Spreiregen, the controversy and how it is perceived continue to be a source of frustration. Spreiregen, a Washington, DC-based architect and author, w a s the professional adviser for the V i e t n a m m e m o r i a l design competition. He also was involved for several m o n t h s in the O k l a h o m a City project. T h e popular m e m o r y of the Vietnam dispute goes something like A mask-making session at Oklahoma Arts this: W h i l e L i n ' s m e m Institute's Celebration of the Spirit workorial has proved a grand shop for bombing survivors and families of success, it nonetheless the victims, (photo: G. Jill Evans, courtesy w a s created through an Oklahoma Arts Institute) elitist process that ignored the sentiments of veterans. Because veterans were left out of the mix, this perception goes, a more traditional m e m o r i a l featuring three infantrymen (designed by Frederick Hart) was added later to salve hurt feelings. But veterans were involved at every stage, Spreiregen counters. Vietnam veterans f o r m e d the committee that sought the creation of the memorial. Veterans w h o were arts professionals served on the jury that ranked L i n ' s design No. 1, and the sponsoring committee of Vietnam veterans ratified the selection. A m o n g veterans, Spreiregen says, there was immediate and o v e r w h e l m i n g support for the design. The controversy, he insists, was fomented by a dissident g r o u p of veterans w h o had had a falling out with the sponsoring committee. " T h e y ' r e the ones that started all the mess," he says. "They almost m a n a g e d to prevent the memorial f r o m being built." T h e O k l a h o m a task force clearly has been influenced by the controversy over the Vietnam memorial, as well as by others that have been sidetracked by political acrimony. The task force's response has been to try to m a k e theirs a truly public memorial. T h e c o m m i t t e e allows anyone w h o wants to voice their thoughts

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to fill out a survey, on paper or on the Internet, or in person at any number of public meetings. The task force itself is m e a n t to represent a broad cross-section of the O k l a h o m a City c o m munity, with survivors of the bombing and relatives of victims playing prominent roles. Their system of outreach, task force m e m bers say, is as important as the p r o d u c t . " T h e structure of the task force is so huge as to be unwieldy, because we really want it to be inclusive," says Arts Council director and task force m e m b e r Jones. "The process has to be completely squeaky-clean and honest. It has to be sincere," says task force m e m b e r Toby Thompson, w h o is involved in the arts locally and whose brother was killed in the blast. "II the process is good, the end result will be all right. If the process is not good, the end result will not be worth having. " H o p e f u l l y it will be something that will speak to as many people as possible, so there isn't the need to junk it up with later accretions f r o m people who say, 'I was left out of the process so I want to have my statue,' " he says. When the memorial planning began last summer, task force m e m b e r s say, some survivors and family m e m b e r s of victims were reluctant to open the process to others. "They were very angry," says Karen Luke, vice chairwoman of the task force. Their attitude was "this is our loss and you'll never understand," she says. The people who had lost family m e m b e r s "felt the most passionate about every decision being made," says Jones. " A n d [for] the [decisions] in which they didn't have input, it was one more area in which they were not in control. The control in their life had already been jerked away." S o m e survivors and victims' families felt used early on and mistrusted the process, says T h o m p s o n . Six months into the planning, however, s o m e of the same people have declared, "If


[task force chairman] Bob Johnson says it's okay, then I think it's okay," T h o m p s o n says. " T h a t ' s a remarkable step forward to have that level of trust." T h e r e remain questions of " W h o s e memorial is this?" but task force m e m b e r s say they are working through them together. Because of concerns that the O k l a h o m a memorial remain relatively f r e e of controversy, it is perhaps surprising that the task force initially chose Spreiregen as consultant. He no longer works for the task force because of a dispute over the jury to rank entries in the design competition. (The task force has since settled on an initial jury that would include six arts professionals and three people who had survived the blast themselves or w h o were related to a victim.) Spreiregen says the panel should include only eminent artists w h o have the experience and ability to review design proposals. "A design jury is no place for on-the-job learning," he says. "It takes expert eyes to look at drawings in a given amount of time and to really understand what they mean, to be able to deliberate a m o n g themselves, and to argue constructively." Spreiregen says he has been on juries that have included people w h o are not arts professionals. The result can be a deadlocked j u r y or selection of a mediocre design. Laypeople, he says, cannot be expected to

"Celebration of the Spirit," an exhibition of artwork created by survivors, in the Governor's Gallery at the State Capitol of Oklahoma, December 6,1995 - April 19,1996. (photo: G. Jill Evans, courtesy Oklahoma Arts Institute)

understand everything in the art world. " T h e y ' l l choose something that is familiar to them, even if it is not adequate," he says. In his view, laypeople—in this case, survivors or victims' f a m ilies—can still play a critical role in the process without serving on the jury. They have been involved in setting the stage for the design competition, writing its mission statement, and in the end, would still be involved in accepting or rejecting the design ranked No. 1 by the jury. But to s o m e task force members, it is paramount that survivors and victims' families be on the jury. Otherwise they will be cut out when they were promised their views would be important. Rowland D e n m a n , the volunteer executive director for the task force, says he understands the importance of involving arts professionals on the jury because of their expertise and vision. "But by the same token," he says, "the local people have a certain amount of heart, a certain amount of feeling and they have the c o m m u n i t y with them. They have something to bring to the process too."

D e n m a n and other task force m e m b e r s praise S p r e i r e g e n ' s work guiding the c o m m i t t e e in the early m o n t h s but stand by their decision to continue without him. "I really think he could have brought us the best design, but what price would we h a v e had to pay in public s u p p o r t ? " D e n m a n asked. With Spreiregen's departure, the task force is looking for a new consultant to guide them through the design competition, selection, and construction. On March 26, the task force, unanimously agreed on a proposed mission statement for the m e m o r i al. It asks for a place of r e m e m b r a n c e , peace, spirituality, hope, c o m f o r t and learning. It also calls for including a special place for children, to " o f f e r them assurance that the world holds far more good than bad." T h e memorial c o m p l e x m a y fill the one square block of the Murrah building, the south half of the Journal Records building block directly across the street, and the street itself. T h e ultimate cost of the project is still u n k n o w n , but the task force estimates that it m a y need to raise more than $ 1 0 million. So far, it has $110,000, almost half of which c a m e as a gift f r o m the National Jewish Federation. The mission statement eventually will be used by artists in designing their entries, by the jury, and by another panel as well. The second panel will make the final decision on whether the j u r y ' s recommendation would be accepted. That panel of 15, to be appointed by the mayor, is to include eight survivors and victims' family m e m b e r s and seven other people f r o m the community. T h e mission statement w a s based on c o m ments f r o m the public and c o m m i t t e e m e m b e r s — m o r e than 10,000 people f r o m all over the world returned surveys. In seeking opinions f r o m the public, the task force has asked that people describe what they want to feel when they visit the memorial rather than what they want to see. But the task force already has decided t w o things it wants to see: a list of the people w h o died in the b o m b i n g and m a i n t e n a n c e of a tree that lived. Not far f r o m the M u r r a h building site, an elm tree stands. In photographs taken right after the b o m b i n g , "it looks like a goner," says D e n m a n . "It's black. It looks a w f u l , barren. And that tree c a m e back and r e b u d d e d . " Family m e m b e r s and survivors want it to be part of the m e m o r i a l , D e n m a n says, because " w h a t it symbolizes is a feeling of h o p e . " Victoria White is a freelance writer based in Inverness, FL. Her work has appeared in the St. Petersburg Times, Baltimore Sun and New York Times. Thanks

to the N e w York T i m e s (4/6/96)

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information.

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 1 7


Cultural Perspective

By

J a m e s

M .

C l a r k

"ochen G e r z ' s first public intervention was initiated

in Paris during the student protests of 1968. Gerz,

along with Joseph Beuys, Vito Acconci, Richard

Long, Allan Kaprow, and Judy Chicago, is part of an extra-

ordinary generation of artists w h o in the late 1960s f o u n d

ways to operate outside the traditional venues and e c o n o m -

ic constraints of the "art world." Gerz and his c o n t e m p o -

raries laid the foundation f o r public art as w e know it today.

1 8 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

1996


S o m e background about Jochen Gerz will help to understand his position as an artist. According to his passport, he is G e r m a n , but he has not lived there since 1960. He resides in France but he is not a citizen. He was not trained at an arts academy but instead studied G e r m a n , English, Sinology, and early history. He exists, in a way, in a perpetual state of non-absolutes. This condition is reflected in his speech and artistic tactics: Linguistically, he is forever pulling the proverbial rug out f r o m under the "art." Rather than operating f r o m an art-world perspective, G e r z ' s perspective is cultural. For this reason, the public projects are not f o r m e d in response to art theory; rather, each project evolves f r o m the social, political, and environmental conditions the artist encounters. T h e cultural perspective is an open proposition that allows for greater fluidity of meaning, and, ultimately, greater accessibility. According to a cultural perspective, a battlefield, as a place that evokes memory, might be in and of itself a m o n u m e n t . Generally, a bronze plaque informs the viewer of what happened at this place. While for s o m e this is sufficient to kindle civic memory, others require s o m e sort of physical manifestation of the battle, hence the need for a statue, a m o n u m e n t , that attempts s o m e h o w to symbolize all that the battlefield means. For the most part, this kind of s y m b o l - m a k i n g is futile because it is corrupted by the artist's or the sponsor's point of view. T h e sculpture is suspect because it attempts to replace language for object, it attempts to create a symbol that can carry the weight of our memories and emotions. T h e sculpture, the symbol of the physical and historic battlefield, unburdens the viewer of developing his or her own narrative, of contemplating the "negative" history that Gerz speaks of and how it resonates throughout time. T h r o u g h his artwork, Gerz explores issues related to absence: Loss, memory, disappearance, invisibility, and distance are the themes that permeate his work. As a G e r m a n , he is especially concerned with the construction of public memory. His public art projects challenge our traditional notion of the civic m e m o rial by creating work that disappears over time or is immaterial f r o m the start. Because he collaborates with hundreds of people in the creation of these memorials, his work also challenges the idea of artistic authorship. Gerz c o m p e l s those w h o participate and experience his work to (re)consider the role of art(ists) in society as well as the individual citizen's authorship of public m o n u m e n t s . He challenges our assumptions about cultural expression and public memory when they are constructed in a period of t r e m e n d o u s social flux. Gerz is perhaps best known for the Monument Against Fascism (1986-1993) in Hamburg, Germany. W h e n the city of Hamburg invited him to create a m o n u m e n t against fascism, Gerz and his associate, Esther Shalev-Gerz, chose to site the work not in a park, as was offered, but in the commercial shopping district of Harburg, an ethnically mixed community. T h e Monument Against Fascism was originally a column covered in dark soft lead, one meter square and 12 meters high. A nearby text panel solicited those w h o wished to stand against fascism to sign their names on the m o n u m e n t . The plan was to lower the column into the ground as more and more signatures were inscribed, until the column was totally below ground. People certainly left their marks, but most were not signatures. During its seven years of exposure, the lead column was covered in graffiti, and was shot at, hacked, and mutilated. Looking back, the invitation to add o n e ' s signature seems naive, as if people would really obey the artists' intent. Regardless, the real pathos of the project is f o u n d in the range

of reactions that were registered on the c o l u m n ' s skin. Like a time capsule, the column acts as a mirror reflecting society at a specific time and place. In Saarbrucken, also in Germany, Gerz used the existing paving stones of the city's largest public square, on which the names and dates of Jewish cemeteries destroyed by the N a z i s were etched. In 1990, Gerz, with help f r o m s o m e of his students at the local fine arts academy, surreptitiously r e m o v e d the paving stones, which were then incised and returned to the plaza w h e r e they were reinserted with the text side down. Even though the intervention created a storm of controversy, it is now an official memorial, 2160 Stones, Monument Against Racism (1990-93). T h e city has added a plaque that lists the n a m e s and dates of the eradicated cemeteries. As a direct result of his work in H a m b u r g and Saarbrucken, in 1993 Gerz was awarded a special c o m m i s s i o n to create a public artwork for the northern G e r m a n port town of B r e m e n . Using the news media and other means, Gerz asked the people of Bremen three questions: 1) W h a t should the t h e m e of the art c o m m i s s i o n b e ? 2) D o you believe that your idea can be realized with the help of contemporary art? 3) D o you want to participate in its realization? T h e survey itself b e c a m e the artwork; the actual project has no material f o r m other than the answers f r o m 269 people. T h e responses were collected in a book, and an existing bridge was altered to include a small overlook facing toward the sea. From this point, according to the artist, one can imagine o n e ' s own m o n u ment for Bremen. In a steel plate e m b e d d e d in the sidewalk, the n a m e s of those w h o responded to the Bremen Questionnaire are recorded. Gerz engages the public directly in a discourse that provokes not only r e m e m b r a n c e s of the "negative past" (to use G e r z ' s terminology), but also forces the viewer/thinker to reassess what it is she or he c h o o s e s to remember. Through this activated "viewing," the viewer completes the work and b e c o m e s a co-author of the m o n u m e n t . T h e Bremen Questionnaire is the purist realization of this idea. Rather than looking to the state for direction, Gerz turns to the people by asking them directly (not via authority figures or elected representatives) what issue the work should address. In B r e m e n , G e r z ' s co-authors not only c o m p l e t e the artwork, they create it. T h r o u g h his interventions Gerz creates strategies that re-engage the notion of citizenship and social responsibility as inseparable f r o m the individual. G e r z ' s latest public project. The Plural Sculpture, was designed for the Internet [http://gaudi.va.purchase.edu/~plrlart/]. T h e project was a collaboration between the artist and students at the State University of New York at Purchase. Using the university's Web site, Gerz and the students designed a " p a g e " that asks, "If art had the power to c h a n g e your time, what would you ask f o r ? " T h e question was distributed to n e w s g r o u p s t h r o u g h out the Web, and at this writing, the answers are being a s s e m bled in a book. G e r z ' s public projects c o m p e l viewers to move beyond gesture to action. In the three public projects leading up to the Internet project, Gerz moved f u r t h e r and f u r t h e r away f r o m the " o b j e c t " toward immateriality. It therefore s e e m s logical that Gerz would end u p creating a work in cyberspace where his chief building material is language conveyed via digital impulses.

According to a cultural perspective, a battlefield, as a place that evokes memory, might be in and of itself a monument.

James M. Clark is a visiting scholar at New York University's Taub Urban Research Center; previously, he was the executive director of the Public Art Fund.

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 1 9


That Was Then Contemporary Commemorative Art in Greater Boston

By

N i c k

C a p a s s o

L

ike most m a j o r cities in the Northeast, Boston has a rich history of public c o m m e m o r a t i v e artwork. S o m e of the earliest outdoor sculpture in the United States can be f o u n d on the Boston C o m m o n and Public Garden, created by the leading lights of mid-19th century sculpture. T h e American R e n a i s s a n c e of the 1880s and 1890s flowered in Boston, the selfstyled " A t h e n s of A m e r i c a , " and left in its w a k e a host of m o n u ments. T h e best known by far is Augustus S a i n t - G a u d e n s ' s Col. Robert Gould Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts Regiment Memorial (1897), sited near the Massachusetts State House and m a d e f a m o u s by the Hollywood film "Glory." A f t e r 1900, like other cities across the country, Boston produced f e w e r and f e w e r c o m m e m o r a t i v e w o r k s — u n t i l recently. Now, at the end of the century, and in the w a k e of the p h e n o m e n a l success of M a y a L i n ' s national Vietnam Veterans Memorial, A m e r i c a seems awash in new memorials, so m u c h so that many cities are trying to legislate w a y s to curb their proliferation. Boston and its environs are no exception to this revival, and the H u b City and its surrounding towns find themselves grappling with knotty p r o b l e m s of contemporary c o m m e m o r a t i v e strategies, representation, politics, and subject matter. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, stylistic approaches to c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art in and around Boston have ranged f r o m traditional statuary to new figural approaches, participatory site-specific places, and what artist and critic S u z a n n e Lacy has recently labeled " n e w g e n r e " public a r t — a r t w o r k s with undisguised progressive political agendas, based on c o m m u n i t y activism and social intervention. Although the palmy days of Saint-Gaudens and academic representational figural sculpture seem long over, his heirs at the conservative National Sculpture Society are still hard at work, creating, d e f e n d i n g , and promoting the much-maligned statue. And even at this late date, their efforts are rarely in vain. The individuals, committees, and governmental bodies that c o m m i s sion memorials still, for the most part, envision static icons in bronze—partly due to the long tradition of these objects in New England Holocaust Memorial, Boston, designed by Stanley Saitowitz, 1995. (photo: Steve Rosenthal)

ii

S \

1*

.11 » t

+v

1

20 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

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1996

Western culture, partly due to ignorance of contemporary alternatives, and often due to an e m b r a c e of the conservative values e m b o d i e d by statues and their representational limitations. Thus in 1988, President John F. Kennedy's family and former staffers chose to honor his memory with a larger-than-life-sized bronze portrait by sculptor Isabel Mcllvain, situated on the steps of the State House; and in 1993 the Massachusetts Korean War Veterans Committee dedicated Robert Shure and Moise Altshuler's 9-foot-tall bronze soldier memorial depicting a white male anonymous "Everyman" in the Charlestown Navy Yard. The limitations of such statues, especially those of anonymous figures made to stand in for large groups of people, are easily seen in another recent e x a m p l e f r o m eastern Massachusetts. In 1991, the citizens of suburban N o r w o o d decided to accept a gift f r o m a local b u s i n e s s m a n — a m o n u m e n t to The Protectors of the American Way, also by sculptors Shure and Altshuler. This veterans memorial consists of a tall central granite pedestal surmounted by a bronze vision of the 1950s American nuclear f a m i l y — a white man and w o m a n , coiffed and attired in middle-class period garb, and a white toddler of indeterminate sex. At the base of the pedestal stand three armed s e r v i c e m e n — t w o white, one of a m b i g u o u s ethnicity, in unif o r m s dating f r o m World War II. T h e content of this extremely reactionary memorial is determined almost exclusively by the exclusionary nature of the figures. T h e r e ' s certainly nothing wrong with honoring veterans or expressing patriotism, but this m o n u m e n t honors only male veterans and shows pride only in white, middle-class, heterosexual, conformist, child-rearing families. Female veterans or families of many different ethnic and cultural stripes are excluded, because a n o n y m o u s figures may conflate representation with allegory. Males as symbols do not represent f e m a l e people, whites as symbols d o not e m b r a c e a wider vision. This narrow memorial seems out of place in late 20th century America, which is supposed to be pluralistic, democratic, and egalitarian. Contemporary artists have of late developed c o m m e m o r a t i v e strategies to bypass the problems posed by academic figuration. George Greenamyer, for example, uses a visual vocabulary based on folk art styles in narrative, rather than iconic, m e m o rials. His East Cambridge 1852 (1988), a public sculpture/gateway commissioned by the city of C a m b r i d g e ' s O n e Percent for Art program, c o m m e m o r a t e s the 19th century urban and industrial history of a particular neighborhood. Abstracted and highly-colored figures—including workers, factory bosses, and residents—along with dollhouse architectural f o r m s in a pointedly hierarchic scale, are a tableau of East C a m b r i d g e ' s industrial


heritage. G r e e n a m y e r presents a representation of community, not a single a n o n y m o u s bronze male furniture worker m a d e to s o m e h o w symbolize a complex, diverse set of people and events. O t h e r artists a v o i d f i g u r a t i o n entirely. They think the idea of a single object as a vehicle for didactic or hortatory content is too limiting, and strive instead to create sitespecific places of c o m m e m o r a t i o n where active experience and participation a c r o s s s p a c e and t i m e r e p l a c e s p a s s i v e v i e w i n g of an o b j e c t . In S a l e m , j u s t north of Boston, architect J a m e s Cutler and artist Maggie Smith collaborated on the design for the Salem Witch Trials Tercentenary Memorial (1992), more a work of landscape a r c h i t e c t u r e than s c u l p t u r e . T h e memorial to the 14 w o m e n and six men tried, convicted, and executed for witchcraft in 1692 consists of a 5,000-square-foot plot bordered on three sides by low, rusticated N e w England stone walls. From these walls project 2 0 cantilevered benches, each inscribed with the name, death date, and method of execution of a victim. On the remaining side, a granite threshold at ground level is inscribed with texts excerpted f r o m the victims' protestations of innocence. T h e center of the memorial remains an open grassy plot, planted with six locust trees. Visitors experience this memorial by crossing the threshold into a sacred space and enacting a ritual of circumambulation as they pause to read each c o m m e m o r a tive bench. Here the viewer, not the artwork, is the center of the construction of memory and content. T h e New England Holocaust Memorial (1995), designed by architect Stanley Saitowitz, e m p l o y s similar strategies. Although it occupies a linear site—an a w k w a r d urban space which is, in effect, a median strip on a busy d o w n t o w n street at the rear of Boston City Hall and across f r o m the f a m o u s Union Oyster H o u s e — t h e memorial still generates m e m o r y as a place rather than an object. As visitors approach the memorial, they see its most salient feature: six green glass 54-foot towers etched with numbers f r o m one to 6 million across their surfaces. To experience the m o n u m e n t , viewers walk along a bordered dark granite path that leads through the base of each tower; the path is lined with texts about Nazi extermination of the J e w s and other groups, and with quotations f r o m survivors and witnesses. The most visceral part of this c o m m e m o r a t i v e ritual journey occurs at the base of each tower, where steam rises f r o m fires below gratings on the floor, referencing the smokestacks of the concentration c a m p crematoria. B o s t o n ' s Vendome Firefighters George Greenamyer, East Cambridge-1852, Memorial, to be Cambridge, MA, 1988. (photo: Beverly Burbank) dedicated in 1997— the 25th anniversary of the tragic Vendome Hotel fire in which nine firefighters died—will also blend text with the site-specific creation of place to provide an active commemorative experience. Artist

Mags Harries and Lajos Heder, Ben's

Ted Clausen and landCircular Tower, Mission Hill, Boston, 1994. scape architect Peter (photo: Kathy Chapman) White designed a low, asymmetrical, arching black granite wall for a Commonwealth Avenue mall site. The slowly rising arc, 32 feet long, is inscribed with three sets of text that run along its angled interior s u r f a c e — t h e n a m e s and birth/death dates of each firefighter, short interview texts about the lives of firefighters, and a chronology of the fire. The story reaches its climax at the arc's apogee—at the moment when the building collapsed and the men were killed. The top of the arc also points directly to the Vendome building (now condominiums) a half-block away. Participation is intensified by the polished granite surface, in which viewers will see their reflections merged with the names and text as they walk along the wall. Clausen and White have also added a quasi-figural element to their design. A bronze firefighter's coat and hat will be draped over the arc, a representational strategy that may increase viewer identification while avoiding the limiting depiction of a human figure. Artist M a g s Harries and architect L a j o s H e d e r have created a participatory sculpture in m e m o r y of a specific individual, rather than a group. Their Ben's Circular Tower (1994). in a playground high atop Boston's Mission Hill, a multi-ethnic neighborhood, c o m m e m o r a t e s Ben Beland, a young boy w h o died of cancer in 1989. His mother, a c o m m u n i t y activist, wanted to honor her son by contributing an artwork for children to the local park w h e r e Ben played. Harries and Heder worked with n e i g h b o r h o o d groups to suggest alternatives to an original i d e a — a bronze teddy b e a r — a n d were ultimately c o m m i s s i o n e d to create a 325square-foot fantasy play structure of large rough stones: an interactive space rather than an object. The participatory nature of this work is reinforced by the circle of stones within the m e m o r i a l where local libraries often hold their story hours. Increased participation, c o m m u n i t y involvement, and social activism are vital c o m p o n e n t s of the most progressive developments in public art. This " n e w g e n r e " work has been practiced in Boston by artists such as Jerry Beck, Jay Critchley, Ritsuko Taho, Jeff DeCastro, and Nora Valdez, and e n c o u r a g e d and sponsored by local arts organisations including the R e v o l v i n g M u s e u m [see "Recent Projects, " p. 43\ the Artists' Foundation, and Urban Arts. Perhaps the most grass-roots, far-reaching, and clearly c o m m e m o r a t i v e new genre w o r k in the region is The Clothesline Project. The Clothesline Project was initiated in 1989 in H y a n n i s , M A , by Rachel C a r e y - H a r p e r and Honora Goldstein of the C a p e C o d W o m e n ' s Agenda, a group committed to challenging h o m o p h o b i a , Continued on page 41

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 21


"<»raDhi.c s Miyatake at Manzanar

a p a n ' s surprise attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, began one of the most disgraceful chapters in A m e r i c a ' s enduring legacy of bigotry and racism. Legitimate concerns and anger over the action were exploited by self-serving politicians and irresponsible journalists p r o m o t i n g suspicion and fear of JapaneseAmericans. Responding to an increasingly irrational

clamor,

two

months

later

President

Franklin Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, authorizing the U.S. A r m y to remove all people of Japanese ancestry f r o m the West Coast of the United States. By year's end, more than 120,000 p e o p l e — t w o - t h i r d s of them native-born Americans—were

rounded

up,

driven

from

their

homes, and sent to concentration c a m p s in barren and isolated areas of the United States.

22 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

1996

O n e of the more than 10,000 people imprisoned at Manzanar, a c a m p in the O w e n s Valley of California, was Toyo Miyatake. Born in Japan in 1895, he emigrated to the United States with his mother and two brothers in 1909 to join his father in Los Angeles. From the time he opened a photography studio in 1923 in Los Angeles' Little Tokyo neighborhood until his death in 1979 he recorded on film the private and public histories of the city's Japanese-American c o m munity. A m o n g his e x t r a o r d i n a r y collection (which includes wedding pictures, shots of c o m munity events, and portraits of ordinary and f a m o u s p e o p l e ) are p h o t o g r a p h s taken at Manzanar. Forced to leave his cameras in Los Angeles, Miyatake defied the authorities and secretly began documenting the c o m m u n i t y ' s daily life with a h a n d m a d e camera using a 150mm lens he smuggled into the camp. He later obtained professional equipment with the help of the c a m p director, and proceeded to compile a photographic record of M a n z a n a r until the last internee left in N o v e m b e r 1945. That history has now been brought into the public realm with the installation of N o b u h o N a g a s a w a ' s small but symbolically rich Toyo Miyatake''s Camera in Little Tokyo. N a g a s a w a ' s work, a triple-sized bronze replica of the camera Miyatake secretly m a d e at Manzanar, restores his presence in Little Tokyo as it lifts the veil of anonymity f r o m the internment. At night, slides of Miyatake's photographs are projected f r o m the " c a m e r a " onto a screen hanging in a w i n d o w of what w a s the Nishi H o n g w a n g i Buddhist Temple and is now the Japanese-American National Museum. The Japanese-American National M u s e u m , one of 13 buildings of the Little Tokyo Historic District, by serving as a f r a m e for Miyatake's photographs, e x t e n d s its p u r p o s e — t o " m a k e k n o w n the J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n experience as an integral part of our nation's heritage to improve under-


Manzanar barracks, in the early

standing and appreciation for A m e r i c a ' s ethnic and cultural d i v e r s i t y " 1 — b e y o n d the museum walls and into the street. T h e s e photographs, combined with the sculpture, give new meaning to the term "site specific" by reinforcing the historic fabric of a unique street of memory. This block-long section of First Street contains, in addition to Toyo Miyatake's Camera, Jerry M a t s u k u m a ' s nine-panel photomural, Senzo (Ancestors), which honors the issei, the Japanese immigrants to the U.S., and is part of the Little Tokyo Historic District, which itself symbolizes "the hardships and obstacles that this ethnic group has successfully overcome in securing its place in American society." 2 N a g a s a w a developed the concept for her work in 1990, in response to a competition for a public art installation along the sidewalk of the Little Tokyo Historic District. She proposed 13 small sculptures, each representing a separate event, starting in 1843, when the first Japanese arrived in A m e r i c a after being rescued at sea, to 1942, when the internment began. A model of Miyatake's original camera, which has been exhibited at museums and has b e c o m e a symbol of defiance and resistance, was to represent the detention. N a g a s a w a also planned to project a single slide of Manzanar f r o m the camera onto the fa£ade of the Japanese-American National M u s e u m at night, and to show a photograph of the same scene inside the c a m e r a that could be viewed through the lens during the day. Nagasawa didn't win the competition; Sheila Levrant de Bretteville did. De Bretteville's proposal, which is scheduled for installation in 1996, incorporates images designed by Sonya Ishii, time-lines, and text embedded in the length of the block-long sidewalk. But Japanese-American community leaders were struck by the poignancy of Nagasawa's Camera and commissioned it, using money administered by a citizens advisory group in Little

1940s, (photo: courtesy Archie Miyatake)

Tokyo. R e s p o n d i n g to suggestions that more of the c o m m u n i t y ' s history than the internment be presented. Nagasawa increased the n u m b e r of photographs by incorporating a tray of 28 slides. T h e display of pict u r e s by w h i c h M i y a t a k e is r e m e m b e r e d shifts attention f r o m him to the events he memorialized. We relive the 1932 Summer O l y m p i c g a m e s in L o s Angeles through his Nobuho Nagasawa, Toyo Miyatake's photographs for the Camera, 1993. (photo: Marc I. Seltzer) Japanese newspaper Asahi Shimbun. We also b e c o m e participants in the c o m m u n i t y as w e witness the motorcade of J a p a n ' s crown prince visit in 1931 and watch the Nisei Week parade in 1939 pass near the spot w h e r e the " c a m e r a " now stands. And a 1945 photograph of returning internees reclaiming possessions stored in what is now the m u s e u m m a k e s us aware that w e are standing at a c o m m e m o r a t i v e site that is part of the internment story. T h e dedication of Toyo Miyatake's Camera in S e p t e m b e r 1993 has enlarged the c o m m e m o r a t i v e vocabulary for r e m e m bering the internment, a r e m e m b e r i n g which had begun in the 1960s, as J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n s started prodding both their c o m munity and the nation to r e m e m b e r the detention through seminars. pilgrimages to c a m p sites, exhibitions, and books. T h e s e

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 23


forms of m e m o r y b e c a m e more f r e q u e n t as they were embraced by the redress m o v e m e n t , which sought financial reparations for the surviving internees and an official g o v e r n m e n t apology and recognition that the internment was wrong. But the c o m m e m o r a t i v e acts did not stop w h e n the redress m o v e m e n t largely fulfilled its political goals. The S m i t h s o n i a n ' s 1987 exhibition on the internment and the redress m o v e m e n t , "A M o r e Perfect Union: J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n s and the United States Constitution," honored J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n s because their struggle "to ensure that all A m e r i c a n s understand the importance of extending the safeguards and protections of the Constitution to every citizen, regardless of race, color or creed ... has moved all of us a bit closer to the "more perfect u n i o n ' envisioned by the f o u n d e r s of the nation." 3 But for J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n s the incarceration is r e m e m b e r e d not with one exhibit, but as a continuing process that not only expresses a d e e p c o m m i t m e n t and responsibility to remind our nation " s o it will never happen again," 4 but also serves to link their increasingly assimilated c o m m u n i t y with a shared past. Just as the internment was a c k n o w l e d g e d as an abandonment of A m e r i c a n ideals, what is r e m e m b e r e d about the internment has b e c o m e increasingly c o m p l e x and varied. T h e pain captured by Dorothea L a n g e ' s powerful photographs of J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n s leaving f o r the c a m p s , along with her later p h o t o g r a p h s at Manzanar, was c o n f i r m e d f o u r decades later by the U n i t e d States C o n g r e s s when it declared that " . . . a grave injustice was done to both citizens and permanent r e s i d e n t aliens of J a p a n e s e a n c e s t r y by the e v a c u a t i o n , relocation, and internment of c i v i l i a n s d u r i n g World War II." 5 T h e 1987 S m i t h s o n i a n exhibition recalled the internment as a miscarriage of justice and the failure of the American people through our Constitution to maintain "the delicate balance between the rights of the citizen and the p o w e r of the state." 6 A m y U y e m a t s u reports in her p o e m "War Story" what her parents r e m e m b e r e d : once I was angry with you for telling me only of the good times two thousand nisei teenagers hanging out in mess halls, canteens, by the north gunpost gate. sneaking away to haystacks, a lovers rendezvous. see and hear each other all the time. at school, next door, in the John, through the walls. lining up. lining up. did you know who went to the dance with who, he's sure cute and does the darndest jitterbug, mama was homecoming princess but should've won, anyone could tell from yearbook pictures, gila class of 43.1 T h e redress m o v e m e n t also began to unearth more painful m e m o r i e s as the J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n c o m m u n i t y started tallying up the e c o n o m i c loss and the emotional and psychological cost. Long-suppressed e m o t i o n s about the humiliation, the lack of privacy, the anxiety, the bitterness, and family disintegration were openly expressed, often in tearful testimony, at hearings conducted by the C o m m i s s i o n on the Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians. Political, cultural, and generational tensions and divisions in the c a m p s were recalled, including the

24 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

1996

beating of Fred T a y a m a at M a n z a n a r because it was thought he was an informer. Also recalled was the riot at M a n z a n a r that left two people dead and 10 injured after Harry Ueno, w h o organized a Kitchen Workers Union, was arrested while investigating shortages of sugar and meat. 8 But M i y a t a k e ' s photographs of M a n z a n a r r e m e m b e r another side of c a m p life, avoiding divisive and polemical issues and blame of the larger society. Indeed, his portrait of the JapaneseAmerican c o m m u n i t y pulling together and maintaining its collective and individual integrity validates a f u n d a m e n t a l goal of the Japanese-American c o m m u n i t y : group survival. 9 Miyatake presents this t h e m e against a drab concentration c a m p b a c k g r o u n d — a watch tower, a barbed-wire fence, and unpainted wooden barracks lined up in military precision—ironically juxtaposed with the spiritually uplifting snow-capped Sierras. We also see the resulting despair in three passive and sad boys standing by a barbed-wire fence. But Miyatake was nevertheless optimistic. Focusing on the nisei, the generation after the immigrants, whose youth and energy are seen as the promise of the future, he captures them standing proudly atop a stack of vegetables, taking the oath of allegiance to join the army, leaving the hospital with newborns and preserving the traditional New Year's moichisuki, or rice-pounding ceremony. This picture of the internment is not complete, but it is not false either. With both the replica of Miyatake's c a m e r a and the photographs, N a g a s a w a goes beyond personalizing our nation's most s h a m e f u l expression of prejudice against the J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n c o m m u n i t y . She honors a revered J a p a n e s e - A m e r i c a n yet refuses to m a k e the internment merely a vehicle for celebrating the virtues of a great leader. By linking M a n z a n a r to a larger history, she subverts the American myth that the character of a society is shaped by rugged, self-sufficient individualists. And rather than setting up villains vs. victims, she reminds us that the strength of a c o m m u n i t y is a collective endeavor by ordinary people sharing obligations and responsibilities for the c o m m o n good. Michael Several is president of Urban Art, Inc., and has written guides to public art in Los Angeles. Notes: 1. Statement in Japanese-American National Museum Quarterly. Oct. 1994. 2. National Register of Historic Places Inventory-Nomination Form, United States Department of Interior National Park Service, Statement of Significance, 1979. 3. Brochure of exhibition. Japanese-Americans and the United States Constitution. National Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution, Oct. I, 1987. 4. Elisa Kamimoto, "The Facts and the Stories: Educating about incarceration," Japanese-American National Museum Quarterly. Oct.-Dec., 1994, Vol. 9:3, p. 24. 5. Public Law 100-383 Aug. 10, 1988, 102 Stat. 903. 6. Smithsonian, op. cit. 7. Amy Uyematsu, "War Story," 30 Miles from J-Town. Brownsville, OR: Story Line Press, 1992, p. 32. 8. Mei Nakano. Japanese-American Women, Three Generations 1890-1990, Sebastopol, CA: Mina Press, 1990, pp. 155-156. 9. David J. O'Brien and Stephen S. Fugita, The Japanese-American Experience. Bloomington, IN, and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1991, p. 79.


B y

W i l l i a m

F.

C o n w a y

lens of personal experience, A b d u l - R a u f ' s action poses a challenge to A r e n d t ' s call f o r a "de-privatized t r a n s f o r m a t i o n " of the "greatest forces of intimate life" in an effort to render them "fit for public e x p e r i e n c e . " 4 Placing authorship and individual expression within the place of public c o m m e m o r a t i o n , A b d u l - R a u f ' s refusal, like the work of many new genre public artists, interrupts the apparently seamless separation of public act and private will. I n f u s e d with the mark of the individual, the c o m m u n a l experience of c o m memorative art is recharged. T h r o u g h the agency of his action we are c o m p e l l e d to rethink what we may have taken for granted. Do we agree? D i s a g r e e ? While s o m e a m o n g us m a y want more information about the acts of oppression and tyranny Abdul-Rauf speaks about, or to r e f u t e his position about God and oppression, w e too have begun to speak. Placing public and private in visible tension, A b d u l - R a u f has alerted us to the question of authorship within the realm of public c o m memoration. At the very least, we will probably be more c o n s c i o u s of our actions the next time we rise for the national a n t h e m . Finally, it is within the otherworldly space of the arena that the question of place within the realm of c o m m e m o r a t i v e art and action is revisited. Plying his trade within the largest structures in North America, A b d u l - R a u f ' s isotropic space of the arena interrogates the topographic tradition of c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art. Contesting representations of the public realm as a space of equals, or the historical determinacy of a place-based art, A b d u l - R a u f ' s refusal shatters our nostalgia for the mythic d e m o c r a t i c vistas of the f o r u m or agora. As an icon in the explosion of the s u p e r - m o d ern, the non-place amphitheater instead o w e s its definition to "an excess of space ... which resists the integration of, or relation with, other places, as it tends to be a space without m e m o r y . " 5 Providing a stark contrast to both new genre artists and the traditions of a place-based art, author M a r c A u g e ' s non-place, promising "solitary subjects, passing events, the provisory and the e p h e m e r a l , " 6 would seem to offer little hope for the d e v e l o p m e n t of a c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art. Yet it is this p o i n t — b e t w e e n the place and the non-place, the public and the p r i v a t e — w h e r e A b d u l Rauf chose to act. As his refusal to stand recasts the non-place as a place of public action, his interjection of an individual presence disrupts its emptiness, revealing the relevance and the p r o b l e m of authorship and place in the realm of c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art.

Described by artist Judith F. Baca as the "canon in the park" 1 approach to public art, modes of public c o m m e m o r a t i o n have often assumed either the f o r m of a m o n u m e n t , "a writing, tablet or pillar;" or a memorial, "to remind one of a previous occurrence ... or to keep alive through m e m o r y . " 2 Since the 1960s, artists, designers, and social activists have posited a series of important revisions to this traditional view of c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art. In her book entitled Mapping the Terrain, author Suzanne Lacy collects this work under the rubric of " n e w genre public art," identifying t w o important revisions within the realm of c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art [excerpted in PAR 9 & 11]. Authorship, the " w h o speaks for w h o m " in public art, provides the first point of interrogation by these " n e w g e n r e " artists. Although the proponents of modernist art practices during the first half of the 20th century favored the singular experience of the visionary artist and the cool language of abstraction, contemporary artists have often chosen to work collaboratively integrating issues, identities, and media in provocative new ways. Presenting work often grounded in personal experience, they encourage the public to participate in the work. Informed by the texts of post-structuralist discourse and progressive feminist criticism, the experience of the subject is understood as interpretive and is intended to challenge the singular authority of traditional art forms. A second point of engagement questions the role of place in the production and experience of c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art. Initiated by critiques of the m u s e u m as the sole progenitor of the art experience, artists began to place works, primarily sculpture, outside the purview of the institution. Although placing art in public places liberated it f r o m the m u s e u m ' s pay-per-view admission policies, new genre artists push beyond the reification of singular artifacts, often defining their work in terms of the local, the particular, and the everyday. Joining issues of place and authorship, recent c o m m e m orative works seek to integrate m o d e s of production, representation, and cultural experience within the site or community. While the recent history of c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art records shifts in theory and production, the issue of place in a r t — f o r m e r l y the m u s e u m and more recently the c o m m u n i t y — a p p e a r s to o f f e r a connection between the c o m m e m o r a t i v e and the public. In an effort to illustrate and expand the possibilities related to William F. Conway is a principal in the architecture firm of Conway authorship and place in the realm of c o m m e m o r a t i v e art, I offer the + Schulte and a professor of architecture at Iowa State University. recent case of M a h m o u d Abdul-Rauf, a professional basketball His work has been exhibited nationally and widely published. player for the Denver Nuggets. While Abdul-Rauf may seem an unlikely subject in this discussion, his refusal to rise for the singing Notes: of the national anthem constitutes an action that pulls at the con1. Mapping the Terrain: New Genre Public Art. Suzanne Lacy ed.. Seattle: Bay Press. nection binding authorship to place in c o m m e m o r a t i v e public art. 1995, Judith Baca, p. 202. 2. Webster's New World Dictionary, Second Edition. David Guralnik ed. Cleveland: If we accept Hannah Arendt's definition of public as "that which The World Publishing Co.. 1972. may be seen and heard by everybody," 3 then the singing of the 3. Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. national anthem and A b d u l - R a u f ' s refusal to stand may be defined 1958, p. 50. 4. Ibid. p. 50. as public actions. A b d u l - R a u f ' s refusal c o m 5. Marc Auge, Non-places, Introduction to an plicates what has for many b e c o m e a perfunc- Williams Arena—empty and full—at the Anthropology of Supermodernity, trans, by John tory act of public c o m m e m o r a t i o n . Refraining University of Minnesota, (photos: courtesy Howe. New York: Verso, 1995. p. 78. the act of public c o m m e m o r a t i o n through the University of Minnesota) 6. Ibid. p. 78.

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 25


D

eath begets art. It always has. Pyramids, obelisks, temples, and towers honor the important dead of the past. From the ancient world these structures have migrated, scaled down, to populate our cemeteries, celebrating the not quite so regal, the not quite so famous. Joined by ivy-covered tree stumps, weeping ladies, and draped urns on columns, they continue to celebrate and remember the lives of the dead. These are permanent memorials, of permanent materials like granite, marble, or bronze. Figures are lifesize or larger; columns and shafts tower above small trees. As substantial expressions of grief, they require a large investment of work and money. Other memorials to the dead are far more quickly set in place. Materials may not last as long or cost so much, yet the grief and sense of loss are just as great. Located not in plazas, on courthouse lawns, or in cemeteries, they mourn death where it happened—near the dangerous highway curve, by the steep cliff, or on the lakeshore. Most are created by family and friends, although some are the work of grieving strangers who seek to express their loss. In Latin America travelers often pass roadside crosses, shrines, or cairns. These are memorials to the tragedy of death and the journey uncompleted. Building them is an old custom that is moving north from Latin America, the Caribbean, and the American Southwest to areas with no Latino traditions. Like the ofrendas (altars) for the Day of the Dead now increasingly displayed in American museums in November, these roadside memorials are a way of dealing with grief and loss that makes sense across cultures. Roadside memorials have different forms and names. In Chile a small concrete box may be used; inside will be a cross to which flowers and photographs of the deceased are attached. In front of the cross, small offerings, figures of saints, and votive candles are placed. These boxes are called animitas, or little souls, and may develop lives of their own as shrines. 1 Animitas in southern Chile often have roofs, while those in the northern Chilean desert don't need the coverings, as rain is so rare. In Texas and New Mexico, roadside crosses are called descansos, from the Spanish word "to rest." Alberto Barrera discovered 48 descansos when he surveyed Starr County along the Rio Grande river in Texas. In determining the identity of the individuals remembered and the circumstances of their deaths, he found that most died in car accidents. Few of the dead were buried at the descanso, one notable exception being a man who died when his horse fell and crushed him. 2 Descansos on highways in New Mexico near Santa Fe and Taos usually have a cross, a circular wreath of flowers (a corona), and rocks placed around the base of the cross. The choice of flowers for an animita, a descanso, or any other kind of roadside memorial depends on what is locally available. Barrera suggests that the presence of fresh flowers in containers probably indicates that the family of the deceased lives nearby and can visit the memorial often enough to replace the flowers. In Mexican Day of the Dead practice, the preferred flower is the zempasuchile, or yellow marigold, great quantities of which are used on graves and on paths leading to altars placed inside homes. 3 In Arizona, crosses also mark the spot of death. They are usually painted white and have wreaths of artificial flowers, often imported from Mexico. By erecting the memorial, families hope that travelers who pass by might say prayers for the souls of the deceased or leave coins for buying candles. 4 Perhaps the most varied aspect of roadside memorials is how they answer the basic questions of who died there and how. Framed and plastic-covered photographs, brief texts, even handwritten letters provide the answers. The information is intended both for members of the local community and outsiders. There may even be a message to the deceased. A memorial near Collinsville, IL, included a letter to a boy named Ryan who had died on that highway.

REMEMBER

Top: roadside memorial to Ryan near Collinsville, IL, Aug. 1995 (photo: the author) Center: Cynthia Stuen planting one of 56 crosses along US 8 near the spot where her sister was killed in a traffic accident (photo: Cliff Buchan, courtesy Forest Lake Times). Bottom: A passerby viewing Rafael Weil's memorial Ma

Died Here (photo: the artist).


Sending a message to the deceased through text or objects is quite c o m m o n . Since its dedication in 1982, M a y a L i n ' s Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC, has been the site of thousands of c o m m u n i c a t i o n s f r o m the living to the dead through written messages, clothing, toys, foodstuffs, cans of beer, and flowers left near the n a m e s engraved in the Wall. T h e s e offerings, unlike those at a roadside memorial, seldom remain, as the National Park Service quickly collects them all, catalogues them for storage, and occasionally exhibits what has been found. The collection now numbers over 4 8 , 0 0 0 items, each referring to an individual tragedy. The Vietnam Wall is an unusual place to receive such an outpouring since it honors the war dead neither in a cemetery nor on the battlefield, yet its significance as a national shrine g r o w s greater every year. 5 Since 1977, another place of pilgrimage that attracts thousands is Graceland, Elvis Presley's h o m e and the site of his death. His fans c o m e to M e m p h i s , T N , during "Death W e e k " in August to visit his grave, tour the mansion, and often to write messages to him on the limestone wall that surrounds Graceland. Because Elvis died at home, the perimeter wall is the nearest public space where their words can be inscribed. 6 In Puerto Rico, a small white cross, or cruz del camino, is used to mark a highway death. Such crosses, occasionally nailed to trees, bear the names of the victims and remind passersby to pray for their souls. Artist Rafael Weil used this idea when he created a memorial to Julia de Burgos, a Puerto Rican poet w h o died in N e w York City in 1953. Weil's 1995 memorial, Julia Died Here, incorporates a crucifix, candles, her photograph, books of her work, and a special loose-leaf volume left open. T h o s e w h o stopped to look at the memorial were encouraged to carry away a page with one of her poems and a statement about the poet. T h e Puerto Rican custom of roadside memorials was brought to N e w York, where it has influenced the painting of wall murals by Puerto Rican immigrants and others. Like the crosses, the murals serve as a place where appropriate objects, candles, and flowers can be placed in m e m o r y of the deceased, creating urban streetside shrines. Joseph Sciorra and Martha C o o p e r d o c u m e n t e d only N e w York City memorial walls in their book, R.I.P., [reviewed in PAR #12], but the practice is national. T w o e x a m p l e s are graffitistyle walls painted in m e m o r y of Tycel Nelson, a Minneapolis teenager shot by the police, and Johnny Rodriguez Jr., killed in a drive-by shooting in San Jose, C A . 7 Graffiti calligraphy and cartoon characters are often seen in these murals, especially w h e n the victims are teenagers, but other memorial walls feature c o n v e n tional lettering and realistic portraits of the victims. Memorials are often planned and set in place by relatives of the deceased, but the lives of two young boys were r e m e m b e r e d by many w h o never knew them. In 1994 Michael and Alex Smith died when their mother Susan let the family car roll into a lake near Union, SC. with the two boys strapped inside. Soon after their bodies were discovered, flowers, candies, toys, and letters began appearing on the lakeshore. T w o posts set in cement held their f r a m e d photograph, decorated with ribbons tied to the tops of the posts. In response to many requests, the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources, charged with maintenance of the lakeshore park, made plans for a permanent memorial to the boys, incorporating into it aspects of what was called "an unofficial m e m o r i a l . " 8 Just as this "unofficial m e m o r i a l " in South Carolina spurred action to create something more permanent, so another unofficial display led to a n o t h e r o f f i c i a l reaction in M i n n e s o t a . Along U.S. Highway 8, traffic had increased substantially, f r o m about 7,000 cars per day in 1981

to more than 12,000 cars daily 12 years later. T h e road, built in 1953 along the f o r m e r tracks of the Northern Pacific Railroad, leads f r o m Interstate H i g h w a y 35 north of the Twin Cities, and winds 2 2 miles east to the Wisconsin border. O n c e a rural road, n o w resorts, a casino, and increased d e v e l o p m e n t have turned it into a dangerous c o m m u t e r route. A f t e r a three-car collision, including one fatality, occurred in late s u m m e r 1994, people took action. First, 56 white crosses (one f o r each k n o w n death on the highway), were placed along the shoulders of what w a s considered the most hazardous stretch of the road. Then signs were painted and posted in nearby fields. T h e signs carried w a r n i n g s in an almost B u r m a - S h a v e style, such as: You tempt fate By driving Eight. N e x t c a m e a c r o w d e d m e e t i n g in the C h i s a g o C i t y C o m m u n i t y Center, protesting the dangers of the road. In response, the Minnesota D e p a r t m e n t of Transportation studied the situation and by the next s u m m e r had erected an additional stoplight, and had paved and widened the road. For m a n y people the white crosses were the most p o w e r f u l statement of the r o a d ' s dangers and they had their desired e f f e c t . 9 T h e unofficial m e m o rial had brought an official response. W h e t h e r it is a descanso, an animita, a cruz del camino, a floral display, or a row of white crosses, the roadside m e m o r i a l has b e c o m e an A m e r i c a n way of c o m m u n i c a t i n g sorrow, m o u r n i n g , and sending a message. Crosses with religious statues are more c o m m o n in s o m e areas of the country, while photographs, f l o w ers, toys, and ribbons appear in roadside m e m o r i a l s elsewhere. Friends and families of the deceased have traditionally planned such memorials, but in O k l a h o m a City strangers were m o v e d to attach teddy bears to the fence surrounding the federal building that was b o m b e d in 1995, killing 168 people [see "Whose Memorial is This?" p. 14], Children had died there and, for them as well as for the adults, the teddy bears were a way of saying. "They are gone, but we r e m e m b e r . " Moira F. Harris writes about art and popular culture. She served as associate editor of PAR #12. Notes: 1. David C. Brooks, "More than Just a Mural: The Popular Memorial for Rodrigo Rojas de Negri and Carmen Gloria Quintana," Studies in Latin American Popular Culture 9, 1990, p. 175. 2. Alberto Barrera. "Mexican-American Roadside Crosses in Starr County." in Hecho en Tejas: Texas-Mexican Folk Arts and Crafts, ed. by Joe S. Graham. Denton, TX: Texas Folklore Society, 1991, pp. 278-292. 3. Maria Teresa Pomar. El Dia de los Muertos: The Life of the Dead in Mexican Folk Art. Fort Worth: Fort Worth Art Museum. 1987. Also Rene H. Arceo Frutos. editor. Dia de los Muertos. Chicago: Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum. 1991. 4. James S. Griffith. Beliefs and Holy Places: A Spiritual Geography of the Pimeria Aha. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. 1992, pp. 100-104. 5. Charles Harbutt. "The Things They Left Behind." The New York Times Magazine, Nov. 12, 1995, pp. 83-85. 6. Ron Rosenbaum, "Elvis. Healer." The New York Times Magazine, Sept. 24. 1995. pp. 50-64. 7. Joseph Sciorra and Martha Cooper. R I P. Memorial Wall Art. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1994. The Tycel Nelson mural was painted in 1991 on the back wall of what was then a police station. The Rodriguez mural was described in Jeordan Legon's "Mural tells of life cut short by act of senseless violence." San Jose Mercury News, Nov. 22, 1995, page 2B. 8. Lyn Riddle, "Where Tragedy Occurred, a Coming Together." The New York Times, Jan. 22, 1995. Ribbons are commonly used in American memorials, suggested probably by the yellow ribbons first introduced to remember the hostages held in the American Embassy in Iran and later used during the Persian Gulf War. 9. Jim Adams, "A road with a deadly reputation," Minneapolis Star Tribune. March 13, 1995, page B1, 2. Forest Lake Times. Oct. 22 and Nov. 3. 1994.

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 27


"Light + lime Tower": Dale Eldred's Last Commission By

Linda

Johnson

Dougherty

w e easily forget—that we live on a planet that is always in motion. It is a contemporary sundial, a modern observatory for a natural wonder. T h r o u g h o u t his career, Eldred worked repeatedly with light, using mirrors and diffraction grating to create sculptures that are perpetually in flux. In a 1993 artist's

Dale E l d r e d ' s last public art c o m m i s s i o n — a n d the last work in his c a r e e r — w a s c o m p l e t e d and installed in Raleigh, N C , in August 1995, t w o years after his untimely death in an accident in his studio. T h e city of Raleigh awarded Eldred the c o m m i s s i o n for the Light + Time Tower, as the inaugural proDale Eldred's Light + Time Tower, on Capital Blvd. in Raleigh, ject of its new public art pro(photo: Roberta Lord) gram, only a f e w w e e k s b e f o r e his death; but his idea for the p r o j e c t w a s already f i r m l y in place by then. E l d r e d ' s works were consistently c r e a t e d in c o l l a b o r a t i o n with his wife and artistic collaborator, Roberta Lord. In a recent conversation, she described the collaborative process: It would begin by Eldred initiating the original idea, then Lord would execute the design drawings, and the project w o u l d evolve as they continued to work closely back and forth. U n d e r the pair's guidance, a crew of artists and students executed Eldred's major public c o m m i s s i o n s . At the time of his death, Eldred had five m a j o r public c o m m i s sions in various states of development. Lord has since executed and c o m p l e t e d these remaining works of art, including the Light + Time Tower and the Steeple of Light, a work for a Frank Lloyd Wright church in Kansas City, M O . T h e Light + Time Tower was the last of E l d r e d ' s outstanding projects to be completed. Located on the median strip of a busy c o m muter t h o r o u g h f a r e in d o w n t o w n Raleigh, the work is a tapered, f o u r - s i d e d , 4 4 - f o o t steel t o w e r c o v e r e d with 2 0 g l a s s p a n e l s backed with diffraction grating. T h e grating is ruled with m o r e than statement, Eldred described his work: "It 14,500 grooves per inch. W h e n sunlight speaks to a p h e n o m e n o n of which all strikes the panels, they turn into prisms, Earth's inhabitants are aware: the passage breaking the white light of sunlight into its of light across all our surfaces, and the full spectrum of colors. At night, w h e n significance of that passage as it reveals activated by the artificial light of car headthe nature of T I M E — t h e duration of a lights and street lights, the colors stay day, a season, a y e a r — a n d of the Earth's within a blue-indigo range. rotation around the Sun. ... If there's anything I would put forth as my vision, it is T h e artist's intent was to create a work the h u m a n species' relationship to the that would subtly manifest and refer to mechanics of the universe. And that relathe rotational and orbital relationship of tionship is m a d e clearer by what I might the earth to the sun. T h e surface of the put together." work constantly changes because of the The Light + Time Tower is a deceptive varying angle of the sun throughout the work of art and its audience is an unforday, as well as over the course of a year, giving o n e — s p e e d i n g by at 55 mph, the as the earth completes its rotational cycle. sculpture's designated viewers, comT h e tower reminds us of a p h e n o m e n o n

28 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

1996

muters rushing to and f r o m work, can only afford to give the work a few seconds of attention. An unassuming, high-techlooking tower, it appears at first to be more about engineering than art. Without light, the dull blue-gray t o w e r easily blends into the desolate, industrial landscape of the boulevard. Despite its height, the tower, d w a r f e d by its surroundings, almost disappears NC, 1995. when it isn't illuminated. But when sunlight strikes it, the work is transformed into a shimmering, radiant vehicle for light that is impossible to miss. A rainbow of colors dances and skips f r o m one panel to the next in a natural light show. In an ironic way, the work is very site-specific: Without light, it easily fits into its bleak stretch of d o w n t o w n expressway. E s p e c i a l l y at this site, Eldred's artwork is incorporated into a part of everyday life— instead of enshrined in a museum, it sits in the middle of a boulevard that is one of the m a j o r entrances to the city. O n c e installed, the Light + Time Tower b e c a m e an unwilling s y m b o l and target of Raleigh's mayoral campaign. The incumbent m a y o r ran campaign commercials on radio and TV commercials focusing on an image of the tower with a giant price tag attached to it, attacking it as a waste of money, and questioning its value as a work of art [see "Public Art and the Media," p. 34], One commercial stated that the " L i g h t + Time Tower is a perfect e x a m p l e of h o w politicians waste your tax money," referring to the m a y o r ' s opponent, w h o supported both the work and the city's public art program. The mayor was voted back into o f f i c e and the controversy surrounding the tower disappeared almost overnight. In the last decade, Eldred created several public artworks that maintained a delicate balance between public acceptance and accessibility, and personal aesthetics and vision. Throughout his career, Eldred was a significant force in the developing field of public art and a pioneer in his ability to incorporate natural p h e n o m e n a and elemental f o r c e s into permanent public art. Linda Johnson Dougherty is an independent curator and critic based in Chapel Hill, NC.


PUBLIC ART SCHOOL

Ars Publica USC Offers a New Program in Public Arts Administration B y

P h i l i p

P r e g i l l

Until recently, people w h o wanted professional training in public art m a n a g e ment usually built their credentials in allied programs, including public administration, business, or institutional arts m a n a g e m e n t . With prior training in art or art history, such a p p r o a c h e s prepared them for e m p l o y m e n t in public and private positions devoted to promoting public art in communities. It was inevitable that the process of training individuals for public art administration would lead to formation of a program that specializes in public art education based in a fine arts curriculum. Seeing an opportunity to take the lead in public art administration education, the University of Southern California (USC) in Los Angeles f o r m e d a degree program to develop public art administration skills f r o m the locus of the fine arts. So far, the program has proven its worth by offering a d e m a n d i n g program to a range of students, many of w h o m have f o u n d work in diverse public and private public art venues. T h e inspiration behind the program is Jay Willis, an energetic and visionary sculpture professor in the Department of Fine Arts at USC. Through research on the function of art within the public domain, Willis recognized an emerging d e m a n d for public art education, but he was curious about why such programs were within general public administration rather than fine arts departments. Postulating that such an education should occur in a range of parent programs, Willis concluded that the time was right for a university to accept the challenge to institute a public arts curriculum within an existing fine arts school. Mindful of procedural and budgetary concerns within universities, Willis proceeded to build a case for the program by surveying the field, making contacts, and building a consensus within the public arts profession in southern California. By 1991 Willis had put most of the pieces together to propose a program to the U S C administration. Of particular significance and use was a conference at the university that brought together individuals f r o m the public art profession and the fine arts. T h e colloquium helped focus attention on specific areas of instruction that would f o r m the armature of the prog r a m . T h e s e included three areas of emphasis: administration, art, and archive m a n a g e m e n t . To cover the range of academic content in these three areas, Willis

enlisted a n u m b e r of people in the fine arts c o m m u n i t y to p r o v i d e the intellectual foundation for the curriculum. Specialists in art, planning, art administration, and art history—all practicing professionals within their area of e x p e r t i s e — f o r m e d the teaching core of the program. "Planning was seen as a particularly important area of need, for the critical decisions about art within the physical fabric of a c o m m u n i t y often hinge on the processes and decisions contained in urban planning," says Willis. Shortly thereafter Willis drew the same conclusion about the significance of law, bolstered by the realization that federal and state statutes play a m a j o r role in the contractual and long-term quality of public art. In response to this need, attorneys versed in public art have taught within the program. N o less concern appeared for e x p a n d i n g writing skills, especially for successful grant preparation and application. Students currently complete rigorous courses in grant writing conducted by the U S C professional writing program. If the program appears to lean towards practical application, this is by design and not by chance. Given the ever-competitive nature of the arts professions and the current budgetary problems affecting arts programs, the emphasis is justifiably realistic. Every opportunity exists for students to acquire sufficient skills to find j o b s within the public art domain. But underlying this f o c u s is also a regard for art history and contemporary theory within the public venue. Because students enter the two-year program f r o m disparate a c a d e m ic b a c k g r o u n d s — a r t , art history, planning, a n t h r o p o l o g y — t h e core of the curriculum seeks to maintain a sound intellectual base: T h e 40-unit curriculum includes courses in art history and contemporary theory, without which all practical issues would lack an intellectual f o u n d a t i o n . Such a balance between theory and application may account for the high success rate for graduates seeking e m p l o y m e n t w i t h i n the f i e l d . To date, g r a d u a t e s , through individual initiative and imagination, continue to find e m p l o y m e n t in a

range of positions, including at city planning agencies, foundations, and as consultants to industry. With an e y e to keeping the p r o g r a m relevant, Willis continues to seek opportunities to f o r m c o n n e c t i o n s with allied disciplines. At the m o m e n t he is proposing an e l e c t r o n i c r e p o s i t o r y of p u b l i c arts processes, policies, and procedures within the various cities and t o w n s in the southern C a l i f o r n i a r e g i o n . E v e n t u a l l y the r e p o s i t o r y will a l l o w i n d i v i d u a l s a n d agencies to d o c u m e n t specific planning strategies quickly and to apply such information to their respective initiatives. A n d within the art m u s e u m establishment, normally m a n a g e d by art historians, Willis sees the potential for public art planners to contribute to m u s e u m s by establishing critical links to c o m m u n i t i e s — n o t a bad idea in an era w h e n arts f u n d i n g relies on demonstrating connections and benefits beyond m u s e u m walls. Similarly, connections to the design professions, including architecture and landscape architecture, remain an important objective, especially in light of c h a n g e s in architecture that include a greater e m p h a s i s within the profession on viewing architecture as a f o r m of public art. With such opportunity to continue to refine the program, Willis naturally remains enthusiastic and optimistic. Driving his e n t h u s i a s m is his personal view of the p r o g r a m ' s role within the greater c o m m u n i t y . " I t ' s all about the relationship b e t w e e n individual achievement and the needs of the c o m m u nity," he insists. In a notably short time, the public arts p r o g r a m at the University of S o u t h e r n C a l i f o r n i a h a s s u c c e e d e d in affecting this philosophy and appears to be poised to m o v e into other challenging areas of application. Philip Pregill teaches at the College of Environmental Design at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona. Editor's Note: For more information USC's Public Art Studies program, (213) 740-2787.

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about call

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 29


BOOK REVIEWS

The Power of Place Urban Landscapes as Public History by Dolores H a y d e n C a m b r i d g e , M A , and London, England: M I T Press, 1995. 296 pages, 112 illus. $30 hardcover. Reviewed

by

Deborah

Karasov

In 1986, when Los Angeles planner Gail Dubrow counted the designated cultural-historic landmarks in Los Angeles, she found that almost all were Anglo-American. Only a minuscule proportion celebrated Native American, African-American, Latino, or AsianAmerican history, despite the fact that these groups constituted about 60 percent of the city's population. Only 4 percent of the official landmarks were associated with any aspect of women's history, including Anglo-American women's history. So three-quarters of the population at that time had to find its public collective past in a small fraction of the city's monuments, or live with someone else's choices about the city's history. Today, c o m m u n i t y advocates and public art officials concur it is important to c o m m e m o r a t e these groups as a way to represent their social experience, to "tell their story." A n d yet, as Suzanne Lacy n o t e s in her e s s a y " L o v e , M e m o r y , C a n c e r " [p. 5], it is easy to sentimentalize the notion of such stories in public art, much like our romantic ideal of generals on h o r s e b a c k . W h e t h e r t h r o u g h art, media, or m o n u m e n t s , representing histories is itself not enough, Lacy says; w e need to learn about these revelations in a political context. In her new book, The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History, architectural critic Dolores Hayden proposes just such a political context, based on the social history of urban s p a c e . Indigenous peoples as well as colonizers, ditchdiggers as well as architects, migrant workers as well as mayors, h o u s e w i v e s as well as housing inspectors, all are active in shaping the urban landscape. H a y d e n ' s f r a m e w o r k relates the s e n s e of p l a c e e n c o u n t e r e d in their m e m o r i e s to the spaces of the political e c o n o m y as articulated by cultural g e o g r a p h e r Henri L e f e b v r e . Most relevant is L e f e b v r e ' s analysis of the space of social reproduction, which ranges over different scales, including the space in and around the body

30 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

(biological reproduction), the space of housing (production of the labor force), and the public space of the city (production of social relations). Depending upon the kinds of arguments artists and historians want to m a k e (and the resources available), public art projects might c o m m e m o r a t e working landscapes, territorial histories of population groups, or political histories of building types. In the first part of the book, Hayden outlines this f r a m e w o r k connecting social history to urban space. She then explores how communities, artists, and designers can tap into the p o w e r of these historic landscapes to nurture public memory. She provides dozens of models for creative history and public art projects that accept diversity, while also noting c o m m o n themes a m o n g cultural groups such as the migration experience, the b r e a k d o w n and reformulation of families, and the search for a new sense of identity in an urban setting. T h e second part d o c u m e n t s a decade of research and practice by T h e Power of Place, a nonprofit organization H a y d e n f o u n d e d in d o w n t o w n L o s A n g e l e s . T h r o u g h public meetings, walking tours, artists' b o o k s , and p e r m a n e n t p u b l i c sculpture, teams of historians, designers, planners, and artists work together to understand and c o m m e m o r a t e the history of w o r k i n g l a n d s c a p e s as A f r i c a n American, Latino, and Asian-American families have experienced them. O n e p r o j e c t c e l e b r a t e s the urban homestead of Biddy Mason, an ex-slave and m i d w i f e . Another reinterprets the Embassy Auditorium, where Rose P e s o t t a , L u i s a M o r e n o , and J o s e f i n a Fierro de Bright organized Latina dressmakers and cannery workers in the 1930s and 1940s. A third chapter tells the story of a historic district where JapaneseAmerican family businesses flourished f r o m the 1890s to the 1940s f s e e "Photographic Memories," p. 22]. Each project deals with bitter m e m o r i e s — s l a v ery, repatriation, internment—but shows h o w citizens survived and persevered to build an urban life for themselves, their families, and their communities. T h e p o w e r of p l a c e — t h e p o w e r of ordinary urban landscapes to nurture citizens' public memory—remains an untapped resource for public art in most American cities. There is a wide range of possible activities in constructing places, both artistic and material, notes political geographer David Harvey. Their hallmark is in the way individuals invest in places and thereby e m p o w e r themselves collectively by virtue of that investment. Deborah Karasov is director of the Landscape Studies Center, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, and co-editor of the forthcoming With A View Towards Nature.

1996

The Revolutionary Murals of Nicaragua by David Kunzle Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1995. 203 pages, 100 color plates, $65 cloth, $29'-* paper. Reviewed

by

Sal

Salerno

Political murals are inherently subversive because they are primarily about memory, the lived experience of a community, a people in struggle. In a political sense this outweighs their aesthetic value, at times rendering their artistic value irrelevant, obsolete, obscene. Such is the state of mural art in Nicaragua under Arnoldo Aleman, the neo-fascist mayor of Managua. In The Revolutionary Murals of Nicaragua, David Kunzle documents and denounces the systematic destruction of the work of national and international mural brigades committed to the Sandinista popular revolution, which rose to prominence and political power in the '70s and '80s. The campaign to erase from public memory the new visual language that emerged from the Sandinista revolution followed the ouster of the Sandinistas in the February 1990 national elections. After their "democratic victory," the National Organized Union (UNO) began its campaign of destruction by changing the huge stone letters FSLN (for Sandinista National Liberation Front) on the Motostepe hillside near Managua to read FIN (end of Sandinism). (The mayor has since promised to erect a 28-meter [92-foot] statue of the Virgin Mary on the hillside sometime in the future.) T h e f l a m e over the t o m b of FSLN founder Carlos Fonseca was e x t i n g u i s h e d and the m o n u m e n t b o m b e d . This was followed by a bonfire of books by Sandinista authors and the removal of portraits of revolutionary heroes from the airport and ministries. In July 1990 the mural in the renamed International Airport (movement founder Sandino's name had been removed from the airport title), painted by the Panamanian Felicia Santizo Brigade, became the first casualty in the U N O campaign to erase the art of the mural movement from public memory. Kunzle's book starts with an essay contextualizing the history behind the emergence of the mural movement and where it stands today, followed by photographs of murals in central Managua, the suburbs, and provinces. Kunzle particularly brings out the internationalism behind the mural


movement. More than half the murals were initiated, designed, directed, and partially executed by non-Nicaraguan Sandinistas, artists in solidarity with the revolution f r o m the C a r i b b e a n , Latin America, Europe, and the United States, who not only brought their skills but essential materials that were in short supply: brushes, paint, and paper for sketches. Noteworthy a m o n g the internationalists was Sergio Michilini, an Italian artist who founded the Mural School in Managua in 1982. In its three-year existence, the school trained the muralists who are currently most active— Nicaraguan Federico Matus and members of the Colectivo Boanerges Cerrato in Esteli. After the school's demise, Michilini brought together muralists from 10 countries for a large ongoing mural project on the theme of 500 years of popular, black, and indigenous resistance. Public art once again stands at a crossroads in Nicaragua. In the words of poet and critic Julio Valle, "To erase the murals is to try to erase the beauty, flights of fancy and magic released by the liberation and Utopian dreams of our people." Sal Salerno is a writer and photographer living in Minneapolis.

Visual Display Culture Beyond Appearances Edited by Lynne Cook and Peter Wollen Seattle: Bay Press, 1995. 351 pages, $ 16s5 paper. Reviewed

by Patrice

Clark

Koelsch

Depending on the topic, the audience for the Dia Center for the Arts' "Discussions in C o n t e m p o r a r y C u l t u r e " series shifts, expands, or contracts around a theoretically inclined core of critics, academics, and artists. T h e most recent volume. No. 10, Visual Display: Culture Beyond Appearances, takes on "the other side of spectacle, the side of production rather than consumption or reception." The 13 authors usually attempt to do what Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz did: namely, disobey the injunction to ignore the man behind the curtain and consequently expose the source of the razzle-dazzle. Revealing mostly the theoretical, ideological, political, or psychological underpinnings of particular forms of visual presentation, the various authors examine shrines, museums, pageants, films, display of economic data, and use of technologically-culled anatomical images. For more than three centuries m u s e u m s have functioned as purveyors of education and entertainment. Both Marina Warner's history of canny M a d a m e Tussaud and her hugely successful wax m u s e u m in London, and Ann Reynolds' discussion of the phys-

ical and conceptual r e m o d e l i n g of the American M u s e u m of Natural History provide fascinating analyses of institutions that have e n o r m o u s popular appeal. Ralph R u g o f f ' s absorbing essay on Los A n g e l e s ' quirky M u s e u m of Jurassic Technology deftly c o m p a r e s this deliberately enigmatic institution with the mythic orthodoxy of the Los Angeles County S h e r i f f ' s M u s e u m and the bland reassurances of the G e n e Autry M u s e u m . Because the M u s e u m of Jurassic Technology " [ m a k e s ] use of information that lies on the edges of our cultural literacy ... [it] draws us into a shadowy zone where exhibits slip f r o m the factual to the metaphorical with disarming fluency." In this i n s t a n c e , the a m b i g u i t y of the visual display and the inevitable uncertainty e x p e rienced by the careful viewer call entrenched ways of perceiving into question. So, too, Edward Ball's wonderfully lucid piece on "Constructing Ethnicity" presents us with the sort of information that makes us rethink our carefully cultivated opinions about identity and authenticity and appropriation. W h y is the four- and five-generation-old tradition of A f r i c a n - A m e r i c a n "tribes" parading in phantasmagoric " I n d i a n " c o s t u m e s during Mardi Gras a morally different ball of wax than the war-bonneted antics of athletic team mascots? Although each annual addition to "Discussions on Contemporary Culture" could be characterized as unapologetically eclectic, this volume is unusually far-reaching in theme and tone. Unfortunately, clear and accessible prose is more the exception than the rule in many essays. Provocative ideas are too often encumbered by academic jargon and framed in the tangled syntax of cultural studies. Visit Visual Display the way you would browse an actual m u s e u m : Spend time with what really interests you and don't be browbeaten into feeling that you have to take everything in. Patrice Clark Koelsch is a writer, critic, and cultural worker living in Minneapolis.

Land Art by Gilles A. Tiberghien N e w York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1995. 311 pages; illus. $65 hardcover. Reviewed

by

Deborah

Karasov

In his new book. Land Art, Gilles Tiberghien argues that at the time when land art emerged, m o d e r n i s m had alienated everything connected with the pictorial and

sculptural arts. Art seemed to have reached its end, as if put to sleep, "condemned to resign itself to its own essence." Still, artists like Walter De Maria, Michael Heizer, and Robert Smithson persevered. As a result of their work, the gallery space exploded, as did the criteria of taste and aesthetic pleasure. Feet and inches were replaced by measurements calculated in miles (sometimes as distance traveled) and tons of earth, and the arm movements of human painters were replaced by mechanical excavator arms and bulldozer scoops. N o n e of the artists discussed in Tiberghien's book belonged to anything resembling a movement specifically called "Land Art," nor have these artists used that term to describe their work. But the author contends that all belong to the same intellectual generation, artists whose first exhibitions came at the end of the 1960s and w h o preferred to use earth as their primary "material." They came f r o m minimalism (Robert Morris) or show a similar or parallel evolution (Walter De Maria, Michael Heizer, Robert Smithson). Still other artists (Dennis Oppenheim. Richard Long, Jan Dibbets) were included because of their interest in exhibitions outside the gallery setting, their work with earth and other natural elements, and appearances in exhibitions such as "Earth Art" in 1969 at Cornell University. Tiberghien's aim is not necessarily to review the artistic practices that could be classified as land art: rather, his goal is to define a moment of contemporary history in art at the turning point between modernism, and that which followed to contest it at the end of the 1960s and the beginning of the 1970s. He organizes his book according to the exceptional ways these artists tried to test the limits of art, working with time, sites, near and distant landscapes, and representation. If you believe, as does artist H a m i s h Fulton, that there is nothing in their art but the s o - c a l l e d heroic conquest of nature, then seeing these artists as heroes will be difficult. But if you accept the author's premise you'll find a thoroughly provocative, if somewhat hard-going exposition paralleling the artists' own efforts to re-install the sense of true aesthetic adventure in art. The motivations of the Land Artists, the author emphasizes, were never identical, but for many of them the landscape became the site for a new kind of intellectual, perceivable, and palpable experience. It was an experience that required new aesthetic habits in order to be perceived. Rather than an object of contemplation, the landscape became an aesthetic partner. Everything

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 31


contributed to the projects: the road leading to the works, the horizon they stand out against, the color of the earth or water, and the position of the sun in the sky. In a sort of exchange, the art projects define these spaces, which cease being mere traversed expanses and become worked landscapes. Earth—dirt—with its considerable and fundamental symbolic weight, is what makes Land Art radical, according to Tiberghien. The unpopulated spaces keep the cultural institutions that generate new art worlds at a distance. The deserts, quarries, abandoned mines, distant plains, and mountainous summits give us "the sense of a world where art takes on a new meaning, where museums disappear, and humanity is eclipsed." In each of these artists' work, in diverse forms, Tiberghien also sees references to p r e - C o l u m b i a n or primitive times. For instance, the Obsen'atory (1971) by Robert Morris transcribes solar time while milking reference to certain neolithic monuments that are thought to have served as solar calendars, Stonehenge being the best known. But in Morris' work, time is attained through the period necessary for the viewer to understand the work. The viewer's aesthetic experience is also an experience of him or herself as a physical, temporal being. As a final note, it seems clear that amidst the highly conceptual ends of most of the Land Artists, Robert Smithson stands apart. Like his model, landscape architect Frederic Law Olmsted, Smithson knew how to compose with the hazards of nature, taking into account the fate to which nature had been subject, the destruction it had suffered, and the industrial and urban environment by which it had been transformed. Like Olmsted, he sought to combat the static and nostalgic image of paradise lost, an image especially prevalent in the 19th century, and revived in some land art. Would that all had tried to take apart this image, which "leaves one without a solid dialectic, and causes one to suffer an ecological despair." Deborah Karasov is director of the Landscape Studies Center, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, and co-editor of the forthcoming With A View Towards Nature.

Federal Art and National Culture The Politics of Identity in New Deal America By Jonathan Harris N e w York: C a m b r i d g e University Press, 1995. 2 3 6 pages, $15 hardcover. Reviewed

by

Bruce

N.

Wright

T h e past isn't what it used to be. T h e r e was a time right after World War II when

32 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l art w a s d i s m i s s e d as naive, misdirected, or unworthy of serious attention. Above all, work produced by the WPA Federal Art P r o j e c t — a progressive N e w Deal p r o g r a m — w a s considered beneath contempt. W h a t a d i f f e r e n c e 5 0 years makes. In recent years, many b o o k s and articles have been written reassessing the art and artists associated with this c u r i o u s period in our national history. Art historians and social c o m m e n t a t o r s have long glossed over the 1930s and the years leading up to World War II as a " b e t w e e n time," b e t w e e n the early m o d e r n m o v e m e n t and the post-war t r i u m p h a n t re-emerg e n c e of m o d e r n i s m . This o r t h o d o x view especially celebrated >;.>... U the e m i g r e E u r o p e a n 't modernists. Jonathan Harris' new b o o k , Federal Art and National Culture, attempts to reposition this period and the art that was lOmtHAN HARRIS produced under the various federal art programs enacted in the late 1930s. Harris wants us to reconsider how political and ideological movements influenced and led to a tainted art movement that was its own worst enemy. He sees the story as a polemic between populism and capitalism. Using a Marxist and post-structuralist approach to art history, Harris leads us to re-view production of American art during this brief period as heavily laden with state propaganda. He is more concerned with the "languages" the federal government used to direct and change the course of cultural production than with the artists or aesthetic considerations of the time. This necessarily leads to semantic hair-splitting and an overly-detailed recounting of who said what when. Consequently, the book reads like a dissertation; nearly every paragraph is footnoted and end notes run for 57 pages. Despite the slow going. Federal Art and National Culture reveals much new information and some insight about this important era in American public art. For example, Harris outlines the sociopolitical and cultural c o n t e x t of the Federal Art Project (FAP) creation of art centers, couching it in terms of a conflict between the industrialist-capitalists and the Roosevelt socialists w h o ran many of the WPA programs. " T h e [art] centers may be said to have functioned ... as material sites and ideological symbols of the New Deal state's effort to redress an imbalance in the d e m o g r a p h y of artistic production and to reinstate an authentic cultural diversity throughout the nation. This cultural re-ordering was designed to oppose the forces and contradictions that had shaped (deformed, project officials

FEDERAL A l l AND NATIONAL CULTURE

1996

would claim) urban industrial-capitalist A m e r i c a and that, in the Depression, had culminated in what seemed an intractable economic and social dysfunction." Through careful deconstruction of official documents, Harris is able to show how the administrators of many FAP art centers invested great hope in children and their art. " C h i l d r e n ' s art," says Harris, " w a s believed to exhibit a blend of 'realism, h u m o r and tenderness,' but without 'conscious effort.' S e l f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s — consciousness, that is, not of society or the people, but only of painterly f o r m , technique and the canon i t s e l f — w a s regarded as the m o d e r n i s t s ' central debilitating characteristic." Harris also revisits many important aspects of a n u m b e r of WPA projects, devoting separate chapters to each (including the Index of American Design, the Federal Writers Project, and the Federal Theater Project), looks at the use of art for therapeutic purposes in institutions, and, in the most interesting chapter of the lot, examines federal cultural strategies for c o m m u n i t y planning at the New York World's Fair of 1939-40. Unfortunately, the driest chapter—with the o m i n o u s title " T h e Administrative Organization of the Federal Art Project: Power, Possession and State 'Cultural P o p u l i s m ' " and 61 footnotes—is perhaps the most useful to readers interested in how the g o v e r n m e n t began supporting public art at the height of the Depression. Although Harris' book may not be a quick read, it is a valuable addition to the literature on public art. T h e patient reader can learn much about the struggle that New Deal bureaucrats underwent to convince politicians of the value of a sanctioned public art, a struggle most keenly felt today by public artists working under remarkably similar social conditions. Bruce N. Wright is a writer, critic, and design historian living in Minneapolis.

English is Broken Here Notes on Cultural Fusion by C o c o Fusco New York City: T h e New Press, 1995. 214 pages, $15 paper. Reviewed

by

Sal

Salerno

English is Broken Here is an illuminating critique of the colonial unconsciousness of the United States, its world-beat multiculturalism, and its backlash against inclusive visions of who may live here and what role they may play. It is also a chronicle of the experiences i n f o r m i n g the author's activism, art, and cultural work. From a child of diaspora, of the Cold War,


of the civil rights movement, of the black Caribbean, of C u b a and the United States, C o c o Fusco's collected criticism brings to the key debates in cultural studies an important voice that challenges many of its sacred cows. Nowhere is this more apparent than in her public art/activism, specifically her collaboration with Guillermo Gomez-Pefia on The Year of the White Bear and related experimental and ritual radio performances. English is Broken Here is divided into three parts: "At the Crossroads Between North and South," "Artists and T h e i r Works," and "Fusco /Gomez-Pefia Productions." The book begins with her childhood experiences growing up in a h o m e that became a w a y

ie

is

SKWIvtr"

station

for

h e r

Cuban relatives, and ends as a diary of her H I R J S travels to C u b a since 1985. This essay is followed by theoretical pieces discussing theories on pan-American postnationalism and the cultural politics of identity. The section also contains an essay on perf o r m a n c e art that makes important contributions to the aesthetic/political debates in public art and art in public: " T h e Other History of Intercultural P e r f o r m a n c e " concerns her work with G o m e z - P e n a for the quincentenary of C o l u m b u s ' s arrival in the New World, in which they posed in a cage as two "undiscovered" Amerindians f r o m Guatinaui, an imaginary island off the Caribbean coast of Mexico. The piece, created as a site-specific performance for C o l u m b u s Plaza in Madrid, c o m m e n t e d on the origins of intercultural performance art in the West, which begins with European conquest and involves the display of "aboriginal samples" of people f r o m Africa, Asia, and America for aesthetic contemplation, scientific analysis, and entertainment. T h e p e r f o r m a n c e used a reverse ethnography to examine the limits of the "happy multiculturalism" that dominates cultural institutions, and also responded to the formalist and cultural relativists w h o reject the idea that racial differences are f u n d a m e n tal to aesthetic interpretation. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , a legal dispute over ownership has held up the distribution of The Couple in The Cage, a film d o c u m e n tary of the cage p e r f o r m a n c e . " O u r perf o r m a n c e has forced us to experience in the f l e s h the i m p l i c a t i o n s of ethical debates of both documentary filmmaking and appropriation that have pervaded discussions of both documentary filmmaking and art by and about indigenous c o m m u nities," Fusco writes. "Artists and Their Works" contains a variety of essays and reviews of the work

of Nuyorican, A f r o - C u b a n - A m e r i c a n , and Latina artists, ending with a discussion of the work of the L o n d o n - b a s e d Black Audio Film Collective and S a n k o f a that gives a taste of F u s c o ' s work as a film critic. T h e last section of the b o o k — "Fusco/Gomez-Pefia Productions"— includes interviews Fusco conducted with Gomez-Pefia on his U.S.-Mexico border work with the Border Art Workshop, and transcripts of their experimental radio collaboration. Bringing together work over the past decade, English is Broken Here represents the breadth, depth, and c o m mitment that Fusco has brought to criticism, art, and cultural activism. Sal Salerno is a critic and photographer living in Minneapolis.

Art Lessons Learning from the Rise and Fall of Public Arts Funding by Alice G o l d f a r b Marquis N e w York: Basic Books, 1995. 304 pages, $25 cloth. Reviewed

by Patrice

Clark

Koelsch

Although catchy, the title of this book is misleading. It is a history of institutionbuilding rather than a cautionary tale or a training exercise: it is a name- and n u m ber-filled chronicle of how powerful and ambitious individuals f o r m e d alliances, brokered deals, and initiated legislation f o r cultural uplift on a g r a n d scale. Marquis begins in the can-do ' 5 0 s with the evangelical art forces that h a m m e r e d Lincoln Center into being. She ends in the d o n ' t - d o ' 9 0 s with the white whale of public arts f u n d i n g apparently beached by its own hubris. A m e r i c a n s have n o t o r i o u s l y short m e m o r i e s , and M a r q u i s ' p a i n s t a k i n g reconstruction of the efforts and rivalries involved in initiating and expanding federal support for the arts reminds us that the bottom-line value of the arts has historically been gauged in terms of their worth as political currency. Jack Kennedy wanted to head off any advantage a m o n g the opera and orchestra set that his nemesis Nelson Rockefeller might have in a future election, so he convened an advisory c o m m i t t e e s t a c k e d with artisticluminaries to consider a national cultural center (later to b e c o m e the Kennedy C e n t e r in W a s h i n g t o n , D C ) . L y n d o n Johnson signed legislation for the arts and humanities e n d o w m e n t s in h o m a g e to JFK, but tacked on a rider establishing the American Film Institute, as a way of thanking folks in the film industry w h o supported his policies in Vietnam. And in one stunning swoop, Richard Nixon i n c r e a s e d f u n d i n g f o r the N a t i o n a l

E n d o w m e n t for the Arts eightfold when advisor Leonard G a r m e n t convinced him it would m a k e headlines and get the attention of corporate citizens w h o sat on boards of cultural organizations. G a r m e n t said that Nixon agreed to the increase partly because Nixon "liked to surprise people ... Like 'Mr. N o Taste' b e c o m i n g a g o d f a t h e r to the arts." M a r q u i s ' treatment of the more recent struggles over public f u n d i n g for the arts is less informative. With respect to the N E A , she s e e s a s t e a d y i n f l a t i o n of bureaucracy and a failure to articulate and e n f o r c e consistent and substantive policies and standards. She points to hostile reactions to art c o m m i s s i o n e d for public places as s y m p t o m a t i c of the governm e n t ' s misguided " m i s s i o n a r y " efforts. Like many of the N E A ' s critics, M a r q u i s believes that mediocre p r o g r a m s proliferated because access b e c a m e more important than excellence. She regards the m u d dled chairmanship of John F r o h n m a y e r with particular disgust. W h a t is missing f r o m M a r q u i s ' account of the culture wars is the larger context in which these battles occurred. Her history is hermetic; she d o e s n ' t address how f u n d a m e n t a l c h a n g e s in recent A m e r i c a n s o c i e t y such as increasing class disparity in income, the unprecedented entry of w o m e n into the paid work force, the decline of leisure time, and the political e m e r g e n c e of the religious right—to note only the most obvious examples—thwart expanded understanding of, participation in, and support for the arts. Instead, Marquis seems to hold to a version of natural law when it c o m e s to fluctuations in the arts. In this view, the artistic productivity of a culture occurs in cycles: After a halcyon period, "inevitably, a trough follows a crest, a period of consolidation, failed experiments, and an ebb of creative juices." This sort of nostrum offers cold and false comfort in trying times. Marquis would get Congress out of the culture business, dissolve the distinction between the c o m m e r c i a l and non-profit sectors, and use s o m e f o r m of public financing to underwrite thousands of "public impresarios" w h o w o u l d use their many skills to facilitate access of artists and audiences to the cultural marketplaces throughout the United States. Unfortunately, merely j u m p i n g on the f r e e - m a r k e t b a n d w a g o n will not address the deeper issue of reconciling c o m p e t i n g claims in a pluralistic society. Patrice Clark Koelsch is a writer, critic, and cultural worker living in Minneapolis.

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 33


PUBLIC ARTICLES

Public Art and the Media, Part II Compiled and edited

by Regina by Marjorie

Flanagan Casey

Recently, several state percent-for-art programs around the country have been the subject of "Waste Watchers" or "You Paid for It" investigations. In the Fall/Winter 1995 PAR, Regina Flanagan wrote about "Undesirable Attention: Surviving a Media Investigation." Following is a synopsis of "Public Art and the Media," a pane! presentation at the November 1995 conference of the National Assembly of State Arts Agencies in Providence, RI. Panelists: Suzanne Gylfe, who has worked in advertising and publicity for the past ten years, presently handles public relations for the Arthur Andersen Worldwide Organization in Chicago. Dr. Ronald Milavsky has been a professor of Communication Sciences at the University of Connecticut-Storrs since 1989. Prior to that he worked at NBC for more than 20 years, where he served as vice-president in charge of news and social research from 1978-88. Moderator: Regina Program Associate, Percent for Art in Public

approached a reporter f r o m the Chicago Tribune, as well as community newspapers. The project subsequently received coverage in different sections of the newspapers including lifestyles, food, neighborhoods, and editorial sections, as well as the front page. From the media's perspective, the most newsworthy projects are those that are visual in nature, include human interest and universal truth, or are quirky or unusual. They must be easily understood without knowing the particulars. Suzanne Lacy's installation in the downtown Loop, featuring 100 boulders with name plates identifying significant w o m e n f r o m Chicago, received the most coverage [see PAR #9, p. 28], The message of the work was that there were no m o n u m e n t s to w o m e n in the Loop. This project had several built-in success factors,

Flanagan, Minnesota Places.

Flanagan: Suzanne, in 1993 you masterminded the public information and e d u c a t i o n e f f o r t s f o r Sculpture Chicago's program, Culture in Action, curated by Mary Jane Jacob [see PAR #8]. The goal of this program was social interaction; not only to engage new audiences for art, but also to transform the audience f r o m spectator to participant, and media coverage played a significant role in this effort. How were you proactive with the print and broadcast media? Gylfe: Sculpture C h i c a g o usually focused on the art press when publicizing projects; however, with this particular program they needed to reach the general public. I was hired to research broadcast media and identify one significant media outlet to "buy in" to the Culture in Action program and follow it all the way through. T h e prog r a m included a series of public art projects that occurred throughout the Chicago area b e t w e e n December 1992 and September 1993. Because the process was as important as the product, and the result often was not a specific, distinct artwork, I could not m a n a g e the public relations campaign in a traditional way. Separate weight and attention went to projects that people could understand. The objective had to be boiled down to two sentences. I

34 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

most notably the sheer number of boulders in the installation, as well as the influence of the w o m e n w h o were recognized. In this instance, the artist was also an effective advocate for her work, which is not always the case. Artists often need media training to effectively convey a message. They must learn to develop singlesentence responses, and be able to explain why their work is art: It is not just art because they say so. They need to help the average person find meaning in the work, because people often reject things they do not u n d e r s t a n d . C h a m p i o n s w h o can d e f e n d the artwork and w h o are not attached so directly to the project should also be identified. The broadcast media has to sell controversy and the arts are a good target. Often the monetary value of an artwork is debated. This issue should be diffused; in fact, don't even bring up the price of the artwork. If cost becomes a focus, be ready to WCCO-TV's May 16 1995 "Waste Watchers" broadcast placed a price tag on Pat Benincasa's skylight at the Minnesota Judicial Center, St. Paul, (photo: PAR)

1996

c o m p a r e the cost of the artwork to the cost of other things that may have less value. This approach is preferable to defending the price of the work by noting how much went back into the local economy, or how little the artist made. Finally, I advise administrators to beg, borrow, or steal public relations assistance to help plan strategies, and approach as many media people as possible after first researching their background interests. Flanagan: R o n a l d , a f t e r viewing the videotapes of the percent-for-art investigative p r o g r a m s in C o n n e c t i c u t and Minnesota, what impression do you think the segments left with the public? How can the arts community be more effective in portraying the important role of our programs and the responsibility we feel toward the public? Milavsky: Several dictums apply to m e d i a c o v e r a g e . We need to remember that there is no such thing as "objectivity." Reality cannot be mirrored; you cannot report all of reality. Furthermore, balance is not objectivity. The decisions journalists make are shaped by conflicting forces; we need to push them into reporting on "what is good for us" and remember that w e can influence their judgments. The gatekeepers who make decisions about coverage are influenced by professional norms, and how the piece may benefit society. T h e media report what they think reflects the values and attitudes of the demographic backgrounds of their viewers. Circulation and advertising may also affect choices. Economic pressures are influences, particularly during [ratings] " s w e e p s " week, when these investigations were aired. Simple human interest stories, and violence/conflict/disaster, make good subjects. News directors of local affiliates share ideas about "audience grabbers," and I am surprised that of the 200 C B S affiliates nationwide, only four have covered percent-for-art programs. While doing research for this presentation, I actually found the public likes and respects art more than journalists think, as indicated by the results of several audience polls regarding the arts. For example, a 1991 Roper poll showed that 60 percent of Americans surveyed supported the concept that government provide funding for the arts. In conclusion, you need to r e m e m b e r that a journalist's j u d g m e n t can be affecte d — y o u need to explain why states have a percent-for-art law, and work to convince them of its value. Regina Flanagan is the percent-for-art program associate at the Minnesota State Arts Board. Marjorie Casey is communications director.


PUBLIC ARTICLES distinguishes itself f r o m similar middie-size c o m m u n i ties across A m e r ica. Their goal was to elicit responses f r o m the c o m m u n i ty about its past, particularly expressions that revealed the complexity of identity e m b e d d e d in the community. Early in the process the g r o u p realized that to achieve Students viewing postcards created as part of "Where is Fairfield?" April, 1995. (photo: courtesy the City of Fairfield)

Finding Fairfield Public Art Reveals a Community's Identity B y

P h i l i p

P r e g i l l

S o m e t i m e s s i m p l e q u e s t i o n s yield complex answers. Fairfield, C A , situated about 4 0 miles east of San Francisco in rolling orchard country, asked, " W h e r e is Fairfield?" and its citizens responded with diverse answers. The question struck a chord; Fairfield, like many c o m m u n i t i e s across the United States, is in search of itself. As part of the process, the town asked the question through a public art event that occurred April 7, 1995, and learned much about its image. Many of the projects produced for the event were temporary works, designed to draw the m a x i m u m number of citizens into the event. Other works have had long-term results and continue to generate discussions within the community about urban identity and sustainability. Nearly a year a f t e r the official event, o r g a n i z e r s of " W h e r e is Fairfield?" continue to debate the results of the disparate public art projects and are hopeful that their considerable efforts have put down a solid f o u n d a tion for subsequent public art events. How Fairfield c a m e to question its image and produce innovative public a n began with m e e t i n g s b e t w e e n Shelly Willis, the town's public arts coordinator, local artists Lauri Kimberly and Jody Nash, and Seyed Alavi, an installation artist f r o m Oakland [see PAR #72, p. 7], Initially the group focused on promoting art projects by c o m m i s s i o n e d artists to generate public interest in c o m m u n i t y identity. But a f t e r d i s c u s s i o n s lasting nearly a year, the coalition decided to engage the entire town in the process by asking the populace to respond to the question of Fairfield's image and how it

printed its grocery bags with the theme; and restaurants that flagged their meals with a notice of the event. T h e local radio station and the newspaper r e s p o n d e d to the challenge by broadcasting and printing " W h e r e is Fairfield?" in their media. S o m e less visible p r o j e c t s r e a c h e d deep into the community, including visits by youngsters to elderly nursing h o m e residents and an oral history project. A n d the handing out of oranges and roses w r a p p e d in paper imprinted with the t h e m e recalled the days when Fairfield as an agricultural c o m m u n i t y derived its identity more f r o m rural labor than urban commercialism. With evident creativity and planning the organizers of " W h e r e is Fairfield?" skillfully tapped into the m e m o r y and imagination of the c o m m u n i t y to produce responses that were both immediate and ongoing. Significantly, the installations and projects continue to generate public d i a l o g u e a b o u t F a i r f i e l d ' s identity. A video project about c o m m u n i t y identity that engaged gang and non-gang m e m b e r s enlarged the dialogue between the groups. In the case of the oral history project, y o u n g e r c o m m u n i t y m e m b e r s probably better appreciate their elders as valuable cultural resources, capable of providing a sense of the past that a c o m m u n i t y needs to stay vital. Without a large budget or the pretensions of similar projects in larger cities, " W h e r e is Fairfield?" admirably underscored the potential of public art to transcend artistic preconceptions and to generate broad and original expressions of urban identity f r o m a c o m m u n i t y that, in its n u m b e r s and habits, r e s e m b l e s so many others in the United States. At a time when art—public, institutional, or c o m m e r c i a l — g e n e r a t e s questions about relevance. Fairfield, by asking an essential question, not only helped clarify its own identity, but also reaffirmed the ability of public art to stimulate civic enrichment.

its goal, all segments of the c o m m u n i t y — business, government, e d u c a t i o n — w o u l d have to be drawn into the process in an organized manner. Further, the coalition recognized that public response needed to transcend general statements about location to reveal deeper concepts about place within the populace. In response to these issues, the coalition focused their energies on producing a public art event that would deliver the content and scale of response that they envisioned. U n l i k e the relatively h o m o g e n e o u s middle-sized c o m m u n i t i e s of a generation or two ago, the Fairfields of the United States are now socially c o m p l e x towns manifesting e c o n o m i c and ethnic diversity. T h e coalition realized that success depended on including the town's diverse groups in the process and produced a list of 30 projects to engage a broad spectrum of the local population, f r o m established artists to the elderly, f r o m business to the town's youth. Just how effective the efforts to engage the c o m m u n i t y were was evident in the days preceding April 7. At the local high school, students settled on the concept of designing chairs as symbols of places within the community. A c o m m u n i t y college art class produced street-lamp banners that c o m m u n i c a t e d the location of the t o w n in f a c t and in m e m o r y . G r a d e schoolers designed postcards that depictPhilip Pregill teaches at the College of ed p e r s o n a l i m p r e s s i o n s of F a i r f i e l d , Environmental Design at California State which f o r m e d a bold collage along the Polytechnic University, Pomona. walls of the high school. A light project illuminated the " W h e r e is Fairfield?" theme on the city cultural center. T h e local post o f f i c e issued a stamp cancellation to c o m m e m o r a t e the event. Local businesses got behind the event and s p o n s o r e d projects; a m o n g them w e r e the Budweiser brewery, w h i c h produced event T-shirts; a Youths ask the question: "Where is Fairfield?" April, 1995. s u p e r m a r k e t that im- (photo: courtesy the City of Fairfield)

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 35


PUBLIC ARTICLES

Vicki Scuri Getting Site-Specific By

Robert

S c h u I tz

For the past decade, Vicki Scuri has worked as an artist and urban designer in the c o m p l e x field of public art. Her work has manifested itself in freeway bridges, parking garages, a jail, a school, redevelopment projects, and other c o m m i s s i o n s . A m o n g this diversity there is one constant: She brings to the table an extremely professional and focused attitude. This attribute, c o m b i n e d with her heavily design-oriented approach, makes her a s o u g h t - a f t e r c o m m o d i t y for public art programs around the country. Originally f r o m Santa Rosa, C A , Scuri received her B.A. f r o m the University of California-Berkeley and her M.F.A. in p r i n t m a k i n g f r o m the U n i v e r s i t y of Wisconsin at Madison. In the early 1980s, she taught visual arts courses at W h i t m a n College in Washington state while exhibiting her prints and mixed-media installations at galleries in Washington, Oregon, and California. Regional critical acclaim c a m e via a Western States Arts Federation artist fellowship in 1988. However, in the late 1980s her f o c u s began to change. She grew less interested in the craft of printmaking and more intrigued by what she calls "the interaction between architecture and sculpture, and the relationship between pattern versus structure." In 1985, she began work with a r c h i t e c t Mark S p i t z e r on the Downtown Seattle Transit Project: METRO. In 1989, she worked on Seattle's Boren Avenue parking garage, using a unique environmental patterning derived f r o m recycled tire treads, to enhance the c o n c r e t e structure. Also in 1989, she began design work on the Dreamy Draw Pedestrian Bridge/Paradise Valley Gateway in Phoenix, AZ, which she identifies as her most challenging project. The bridge/gateway might also be the most successful design solution in Scuri's public art portfolio, receiving a Merit Award from the U.S. Department of Transportation and the National Endowment for the Arts. Elegantly spanning 10 lanes of newlywidened freeway that skirt one of Phoenix's

36 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

urban mountain preserves, the $1 million bridge is a significant architectural statement. Scuri's tire-tread patterning is in evidence on the walkway, sound walls, and ramps. Perforated overhead screening creates a shadow garden on the walkway itself, while the entire bridge and its adjoining retaining walls are painted in rust-red tones to reference the mercury once mined in the area, as well as the tiled roofs of the surrounding neighborhoods. Striking a blow for recycling, the city of Phoenix moved the old pedestrian bridge formerly at the site and, after retrofitting accomplished with input f r o m artist Marilyn Zwak, put it to use as a crossing over another busy thoroughfare a couple of miles away. Other projects have followed in Los A n g e l e s , San F r a n c i s c o , T u c s o n , the Bronx, and other locales. In 1993, Scuri designed a parking lot and park in San Pedro, C A , in conjunction with landscape architect Robert Takata. Scuri's project design will be integrated into the established architecture of the fa?ades of nearby buildings when construction begins in June 1996. "Vicki did a lot of homework before the design started [ in order] to get a feel for the old seaside community," says arts planner Mickey Gustin. O t h e r projects Scuri is involved in include the Key Arena, Arts Plan & Play Ray Plaza, a remodeled sports facility that was also the Seattle Arts C o m m i s s i o n ' s largest percent-for-art project. In New York City, she has received a commission to help create a "sanctuary space and butterfly garden designed for therapeutic play" in P S . 34, a Bronx school for severely disabled children. In Wichita, KS, she was selected to design two bridges as "city gateways." In San Francisco, she designed exterior landscape elements and lobby amenities for a d o w n t o w n jail ( w h i c h the local press dubbed the " G l a m o u r S l a m m e r " due to construction cost overruns and the perception of " l u x u r y " prisoner a c c o m m o d a tions). Recently, her preliminary design concept for a major renovation of the U.S. Left to Right: Dreamy Draw Pedestrian Bridge, Phoenix, dedicated June 1,1995; Play Ray Plaza, with NBBJ Architects, Seattle Center,

Courthouse in Harrisburg, PA, has been a p p r o v e d by the G e n e r a l Services Administration and will be completed in 1997. As those in the public art field know especially well, media perceptions are sometimes based on a knee-jerk response to incomplete information. But veteran arts administrators w h o have observed Scuri over the long haul are universal in their praise and respect for this dedicated artist/designer. Barbara Goldstein, public art program manager at the Seattle Arts C o m m i s s i o n , notes that Scuri "takes a fairly intellectual approach, but deals less with aesthetics than with urban design and geometry." Gustin says she "is a powerhouse of energy and positive thinking, and is very happy to talk to community groups so that no one feels out in the c o l d — which is a real plus." Scuri sees her public art role simply and clearly. " I ' m there to find innovative ways to solve problems with all kinds of groups," she says. " M y goal with every project is to make a place better than it was when I got there." Scuri sees herself as a combination of architect, landscape architect, urban designer, and artist. Since breaking into the field, Scuri now sees more opportunities for artists to work on design teams with different segments of the municipal infrastructure. But she says it's more difficult for young artists to get their first break than when she began in the 1980s, because of tighter city budgets. If she had her druthers, arts education would be taught in a more interdisciplinary fashion, public art contracts would contain less legalese, and agencies would be able to devote more dollars to program marketing and public relations activity. Looking to the future, Scuri sees public art projects addressing more environmental issues that e x p l o r e the c o n t r a d i c t i o n between infrastructure and habitat, and offering a better quality of life to c o m m u n i ties. W h a t keeps her going after 10 years in the field? "I know I can make people's lives better by being around." A wide variety of administrators, engineers, designers, architects, and citizens enthusiastically agree.

1995; and model for Penta-House, a playhouse for Washington State Public Schools, 1995. (photos: the artist)

1996

Robert Schultz is visual arts supervisor for the City of Mesa, AZ, and a writer on arts issues.


PUBLIC ARTICLES Siah Armajani's model for the Olympic Cauldron, 1994. (photo: courtesy Atlanta Committee for the Olympic Games)

Public Art for the Olympics, Atlanta 1996 B y

G l e n n

H a r p e r

Atlanta offers a nearly blank slate for the public art projects planned to coincide with the 1996 S u m m e r Olympics. T h u s far there has been very little interesting work in Atlanta's public places, and none that has had any impact on the city's sense of itself. One of the effective programs in past years was the art in the airport, which has been revitalized in time f o r the Olympics with new c o m m i s s i o n s awarded to 30 Southeastern artists. N e w projects for the s u m m e r of ' 9 6 include the Arts Festival of Atlanta's "Conversations: Atlanta and the World C o m m u n i t y " c u r a t e d by M a r y J a n e Jacob, an artists' residency project that will primarily feature work based on public interactions. The Ails Festival is also collaborating with the Individual Visual Artists' Coalition and Art Papers in "Art in Odd Places," a series of temporary projects d e s i g n e d by G e o r g i a artists for unusual sites. T h e Corporation f o r O l y m p i c D e v e l o p m e n t in Atlanta has commissioned a number of sculptural and architectual projects, including new works by E m m a A m o s and Renee Stout. Mel Chin is also planning several projects relating to the Olympics, including interventionist works questioning official O l y m p i c institutions and a possible two-part public s c u l p t u r e that w o u l d raise the issue of continuing segregation and memorialize Africans w h o died in slavery while being transported to the United States. M o s t visibly, the Atlanta C o m m i t t e e for the Olympic Games (ACOG) is Enric Pladevall's Androgyne Planet, 1995, for Atlanta's Centennial Park, (photo: M. Suriani)

sponsoring or co-sponsoring a series of projects that will, according to Cultural O l y m p i a d visual arts producer Annette Carlozzi, give Atlanta a broad overview of the kinds of experiences that public art makes possible, as well as the ways in which public art can be sponsored and commissioned. A C O G will site seven p e r m a n e n t pieces. T h e first artist to be announced was Siah A r m a j a n i , whose O l y m p i c cauldron atop a symbolic bridge is the first c o m m i s s i o n given to a sculptor for a structure that will bear the O l y m p i c flame. Other c o m m i s s i o n s include Tony C r a g g ' s World Events, a 26-foot-high bust of a figure holding a ball, created f r o m a large n u m b e r of smaller standing figures m a d e of wire. World Events is being sponsored

Model for Tony Cragg's World Events, 1996. (photo: courtesy Atlanta Committee for the Olympic Games)

collaboratively by A C O G and a c o m m e r cial development company for a site on P e a c h t r e e Street in m i d t o w n . Enric Pladevall, f r o m Barcelona, site of the previous Olympics, has been c o m m i s s i o n e d to construct the 8-foot Androgyne Planet, an abstract work of f o r m e d steel plates with bronze "wings," for the d o w n t o w n

Gilberto Aceves Navarro painting his mural Song for Atlanta, 1993. (photo: Michael A. Schwartz)

Centennial Park now under construction. Other permanent projects directly s p o n s o r e d by A C O G include a mural designed and executed on site by Mexican artist Gilberto Aceves Navarro, as well as three c o m m u n i t y - b a s e d projects c o - s p o n sored with the city's Art Partners on Location program. T h e s e three works, by s c u l p t o r a n d c e r a m i c artist P a t r i c i a Cunfer, sculptor Ayokunle Odeleye, and the team of sculptor Marie C o c h r a n and f i l m m a k e r Tony B i n g h a m , are b e i n g designed for and in collaboration with residential c o m m u n i t i e s n e a r the new O l y m p i c stadium. For another co-sponsored p r o j e c t , the M i c h a e l C. C a r l o s M u s e u m of E m o r y U n i v e r s i t y j o i n e d A C O G to find temporary sites in the Atlanta area for five signature works by Anthony Caro, Mark di Suvero, S u d a n e s e artist Amir Nour, Canadian Noel Harding, and Israeli M e n a s h e K a d i s h m a n . A C O G has also planned a p r o g r a m of t e m p o r a r y s i t e - s p e c i f i c w o r k s f o r the O l y m p i c season. Six artists or t e a m s have been asked to participate: Vito Acconci. B e t y e Saar, N a n c y R u b i n s , A n d r e w Ginzel and Kristin Jones, David M a c h , and Yukinori Yanagi. T h e s e projects are intended to have a broad public appeal appropriate for the large, diverse c r o w d s in town during the games. Taken together, these projects provide a f o u n d a t i o n on which Atlanta can build its first genuine public art program. Glenn Harper is editor of Sculpture and former editor of Atlanta's Art Papers.

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 37


INTERNATIONAL BRIDGE

ON THE EDGE DOWN ONDER 1996 Adelaide Festival By and

Leni S c h w e n d i n g e r M a r k K r a m e r

T h e late environmental artificer and theoretician Robert Smithson once referred to a construction site for a new h i g h w a y — i n no less g l a m o r o u s a municipality than P a s s a i c , N J — a s a " z e r o p a n o r a m a " that " s e e m e d to contain ... all the new construction that would eventually be built. This is the opposite of the r o m a n t i c ruin, because the buildings d o n ' t fall into ruin after they are built, but rather rise into ruin before they're built . . . " Public sites in need of artistic i n t e r v e n t i o n have only grown more abundant since Smithson's time. What's more, the challenges they present are i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m these interdisciplinary times, when artists and architects are exchanging roles with more f r e q u e n c y than ever. O n e development that has blurred the o n c e - s h a r p d i s t i n c t i o n s between the two disciplines is that both artists and architects are creating site-specific installations that c o m m e n t on the context in which they are c o n s t r u c t e d , e x c a v a t e d , or planted. A case in point is the spring 1996 art-and-architecture o f f e r i n g of A u s t r a l i a ' s Adelaide Festival, an annual cultural convocation best known for its p e r f o r m i n g and fine-arts agendas. For the first t i m e , the Adelaide Festival includes an i al contingent of architectural scape designers—from Japan, Great Britain, the United States, and Australia— m a n d a t e d to create temporary interventions and installations in the landscape around the River Torrens. T h e festival's competitive request for proposals, united under the t h e m e " R u i n s of the Future," w a s an e x t r a - u t i l i t a r i a n inquiry into A d e l a i d e ' s historical town plan. Prospective applicants received in-depth analyses and b a c k g r o u n d about the current state of Adelaide as an urban center, including photos, maps, and selected readings f r o m

38 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

Paul Carter's study of Adelaide's beginnings in 1836 as the first Australian colony with free settlers instead of convicts. C e n t r a l to C a r t e r ' s treatise is Adelaide's founder, the polymathic Col. William Light ( 1 7 8 6 - 1 8 3 9 ) — a naval officer, explorer, writer, surveyor, illustrator, and pioneering town planner.

Col. Light's plan for Adelaide as the "ideal" city seems to have simultaneously integrated and departed f r o m the dominant urban design of his day. At once a fusion of past and future, primitive and refined, Light's Adelaide seems to have fostered a strange alliance between the Australian natives and European immigrants, with both populations coexisting in their respective allotments of mud dwellings set amid boulevard-like drives and lush parklands. Light's town plan

1996

evokes modernity as we have c o m e to know it today, a proto-metropolis poised between evolution and decay. Unlike the relatively uniform mappings that underlie early European cities, Light's Adelaide was more a collage of divergent grids, like tectonic plates, c o m p l e m e n t i n g the land's topography rather than negating it. Col. Light's legacy, as an essential part of the competition guidelines, was distributed in a manner befitting the inhabitants of today's gridless global village via the World W i d e Web. E n t r a n t s w e r e invited to propose "polemical i n t e r v e n t i o n s " d e s i g n e d by architects working with artists, art d i r e c t o r s , c o m posers, cyberneticians, directors, ecologists, fashion designers, interior designers, industrial d e s i g n e r s , landscape architects, media workers, stylists, performative artists, and/or writers. Eighty a p p l i c a n t s f r o m around the world responded to the A d e l a i d e F e s t i v a l ' s hefty competition brief. Submissions ranged from lengthy inscribed poetry to in situ computer-screen installations with scrolling streamof-consciousness texts to geometric earthworks on the land itself. According to Leon van Shaik, curator and dean of e n v i r o n m e n t a l d e s i g n and c o n s t r u c t i o n at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology, a goal of the " R u i n s of the Future" program was to c o m m o n concerns within creof many disciplines. T h e w i n n i n g w o r k s — a veritable catalog of i n u t i l i t y — i n c l u d e c h o r e o g r a p h e d horticultural installations, red-earth m o u n d s , and large-scale s h a d o w theater. Of the s e l e c t e d p r o j e c t s , van S h a i k notes, " W h i l e 1 had e n v i s a g e d that there would be m o r e entries f r o m p e o p l e w h o w o r k in public art, w h i c h n u d g e s into urban design and architecture, the installations all e m e r g e d f r o m architectural d i s c o u r s e s , a l t h o u g h the i n f l u e n c e of S m i t h s o n and land art is evident. T h e seven a p p r o a c h e s a t t e m p t to posit a


f u t u r e c o n s t r u c t e d out of w a y s of seeing, w a y s of m e a s u r i n g and w a y s of m a k i n g . " Of the seven, f o u r projects are prizewinners, and three are invitees. In first place is Jeanne Sillett's Crocus Bulbs. T h e London-based architect proposed precision planting of 2.5 million blue crocus bulbs over Adelaide's parklands in a pattern corresponding to the surveyor's grid. In a performative process, the bulbs are delivered and stacked in standard wooden crates, f o r m i n g an open outdoor room. During the festival's 14 days, the bulbs are planted using tractor apparatus guided by satellite technology. In October, thin blue lines of the flowers will emerge as a perfect lattice pattern, emphasizing the distinct topographical features and distinct figure of Light's City of Adelaide. Explains Sillett, "Six weeks after flowering, the crocuses may be m o w e d back into the grass, b e c o m i n g invisible again until the following spring. Gradually, the forces of nature will dissolve the absolute grid to an enigmatic blue haze." O t h e r than the p e r e n n i a l crocus blooms, the only permanent marker of Sillett's intervention will be a small plate e m b e d d e d in the ground indicating the "Setting Out Point." This will appear on maps issued by the local Department of Lands. In contrast to the cartographer's " i n v i s i b l e " grids and s y m b o l s — w h i c h unite and articulate the globe's surface in abstract codes, without capturing any tactile and s e n s o r y i n f o r m a t i o n — C r o c u s Bulbs will yield a living, flowering grid. Second place belongs to the Melbournebased team of Sand Helsel, Kate Ponton, and Michael Leeton, whose atlas is a structural and informational " g u i d e " to the various " R u i n s of the Future" sites and projects. This approach refers to existing sites as well as the event's overall f r a m e w o r k . By means of an installation at the festival's entry/information kiosk, the atlas, according to the artists' statement, "disseminates a descriptive matrix for all the other projects by sampling the character of each site ... providing the context for an infinite non-hierarchical overlay ... interposing the gentle but insistent accuracy of a series of testings of the place and possible j o u r neys to it." Architects Eleanor Suess and David Havercroft of Perth, Western Australia, won third place for Durer's House, their premeditated contribution to the traditionally unintentional canon of extravagant and useless structures known as "follies"; here the folly genre has been elevated to a conceptual strategy. Durer's House is a unidimensional theatrical flat—the facade of an Australian Colonial-era m a n s e intended to c o m m e n t on Adelaide's history as a staging ground for the transplantation of capitalist ideals, e v a n g e l i c a l Christian practice, and imperialism f r o m

Europe to Australia. T h e s e ideas are articulated through the m e t a p h o r of introducing private land ownership on an alien site inhabited by an indigenous people. Since A d e l a i d e ' s European settlers had conceived this riverside property as parkland, the installation is activated by the concept of Albrecht Durer's "viewing f r a m e " — a kind of European compositional grid that "surveys" and impinges upon the existing l a n d s c a p e . A c c o r d i n g to S u e s s a n d Havercroft, "the facade attempts to relay the collective a m n e s i a of the original alienation experience upon colonization." Fourth-prize winners are Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology landscape architects Patricia Hollo, N a n o L a n g e n h e i m , S a r a h M c C o r m a c k , and

VI P

4

Above: Eleanor Suess and David Havercroft's mock up for Durer's House, 1996; and a drawing for Distorted Grid Entry, by Hollo, Langenheim, McCormack, and Shinkfield, 1996. (photos: courtesy Adelaide Festival)

Simeon Shinkfield, whose Distorted Grid Entry' also focuses on the asymmetric grid of Light's original city plan. According to the design t e a m ' s statement. Distorted Grid Entry configures the site as "growth and decay occurring simultaneously" in a series of earthen m o u n d s beginning on the river's edge. T h e m o u n d s are constructed f r o m y e l l o w soil m i x e d with w h i t e cement, ochre-colored oxides, and crushed yellow lime to f o r m a rich redorange color. This newly-created undulant landscape seems to have evolved f r o m the soil. Spectators can view it f r o m a platf o r m across the river, or walk through it. Notes van Shaik, " T h e degraded red-earth grid mocks the imported geometries and o b s e r v a t i o n a l s y s t e m s of all that has passed before. T h e landscape fights back."

T h e three invited p a r t i c i p a n t s are artist/architect Mark R o b b i n s f r o m the United States, architecturally trained artist R o d n e y P l a c e , a l s o f r o m the U n i t e d States, and the architectural team Eisaku U s h i d a and Kathryn Findlay, both of w h o m practice in Japan. Mark R o b b i n s ' Telltale is best s u m m a rized in the artist's own words: " T h i s series of objects marks and records activity on the river's edge, revealing traces of different uses of the site that are often invisible to the casual viewer." D e s i g n e d to interact with both spectators and environment, Telltale is constructed of f o u r discrete elements: 1) A long straight w o o d e n wall set against a curved eroded e m b a n k m e n t ; spectator/participants may leave an article of clothing on h o o k s at the back of the wall. A bench with a Plexiglas seat and metal reflector is lit f r o m below at low levels. T h r o u g h this mirroring device, spectators on the other side of the wall can see whether the seats are occupied. At the end of the festival, the wall was filled to opacity with the various garments. 2) Two pairs of long R o m a n chaises are set next to each other under a street lamp, positioned in a love-seat arrangement. T h e backrests are configured as storage for towels, delivered daily to the site. O n e holds clean white folded linen, the other a transparent receptacle for soiled towels. For the duration of the festival the towels can be used day and night by j o g g e r s and seekers of sex, then deposited in the collection bin. At the end of the festival the amassed towels are to be picked u p by a laundry service. 3) T w o Plexiglas cabinets with light in their bases are placed adjacent to the seating area to f u n c t i o n as insect traps. Flying insects are attracted to the light at night to create a sedimentation of dead insects. 4) Transparent and translucent plastic shower curtains are suspended inside the s l u i c e - g a t e a r c h e s a c r o s s the River Torrens. This bridging structure acts as a double proscenium for viewing the city and the parkland. A bank of theatrical lights casts s h a d o w s of j o g g e r s , cyclists, and strollers moving across the bridge in the evening. Seated spectators also have their own shadows cast, silhouettes visible on the scale of a billboard f r o m the lake and the Montifiore Road bridge. Like a M u y b r i d g e m o v e m e n t study, the projections pixilate across this " s c r e e n " as an ingenious shadow-play. R o b b i n s ' work investigates both personal and public uses of the parklands, f r o m sport to sex to sightseeing, amid the primitive landscape that s h r o u d s these activities. Telltale redefines the secretions and accretions that the site draws forth f r o m its users, h u m a n and otherwise. T h e work is also a c o m m e n t a r y on questions

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1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 39


of unfettered and primarily gay sexuality in the context of public lands. Telltale also addresses c o n t e m p o r a r y meanings of sexuality by e x a m i n i n g such issues as "cruising" and bodily fluids in the context of such activities as j o g g i n g and hiking. Telltale's creator plays upon the origins of the word itself, which refers to recorded information, hearsay, and evidence. Says Robbins, "It's a process like divining the d a n c e f r o m the footprints. The city is full of such telltale markings: in the physical remains of graffiti, beer cans, cigarette butts with lipstick, cast-off T-shirts, soiled linen. This installation theatricalizes these small clues as relics, but leaves the story of their origins in question." Rodney Place's The Lost World of the Pacific—part of a larger ongoing body of work about the Southern H e m i s p h e r e — i s a floating installation based on the singleclass ocean liners that carried immigrants to Australia between World War II and the mid-1960s. As experiential as it is structural, spectators encounter this artwork on the River Torrens by riding through it on standard park-issue paddleb o a t s , a c c o m p a n i e d by a s o u n d t r a c k appropriated f r o m short-wave radio transm i s s i o n s b r o a d c a s t d u r i n g the i m m i grants' passage f r o m the Old World to their Down Under destination. Architects Eisaku Ushida and Kathryn Findlay, i n t e r n a t i o n a l l y r e n o w n e d f o r their G a u d i - i n s p i r e d curved-concrete buildings, have installed a soft, organic approximation of Richard Serra's controversial. m o n u m e n t a l Tilted Arc, based on

Public

Art Review

Drawings for Jeanne Sillett's Crocus Bulbs, 1996. (courtesy Adelaide Festival)

the brush fencing that borders the h o m e s of Adelaide's middle class. Ushida and Findlay's 1009, Footpath is a sweeping, roof-like f o r m that with the added element of natural light links the Australian bush with the d o m e s t i c , s u b u r b a n terrain. Paradoxically, this work engages the grid by e m b o d y i n g its e x a c t opposite. According to the designers, "We sought 'points of tension' and points of 'take off,' s o m e place where w e could peel the land-

scape f r o m the surface of the ground to create a shelter with dialogue between the collective notion of shelter and the hosting geomorphology." The manifold meanings of the urban river site intersect with the multiple definitions of those w h o create large-scale environmental installations. Accordingly, Adelaide is a location that requires artists to adapt to their "material" rather than adapting their material to a static notion of artistic praxis. In essence, the site is the material. Adelaide seems to e m b o d y a set of polarities that seem as urgent today as when Col. Light applied his first f r a g m e n tary municipal grid in the early 19th century: colonial/indigenous populations, Old World/New World, public/private interest, feral/domesticated, geometricism/biomorphism, hope/despair. It is in Col. William Light's spirit of polymathic inquiry and action that today's artist/designer/conceptors are invoking the everyday (Mark Robbins, Ushida/Findlay), the surveyor's grid (Sillett, Hollo, et al.), and the implicit questions of the site-asmaterial (Suess/Havercroft, Place). T h e 1996 Adelaide Festival has provided an historically charged forum for this radical convergence of expression, research, synthesis, and craft. Leni Schwendinger creates environmental sculptures in cities the world over. Mark Kramer creates verbal installations throughout Leni Schwendinger's kitchen. The writers can be reached at Light Projects Ltd. via e-mail: leni@gnn.com.

Corrections

Advisors

National Advisors: Jerry Allen, Julie Bargmann, Cathey Billian, Mel Chin, Jessica Cusick, Barbara Goldstein, Barbara Grygutis, Mary Jane Jacob, Bert Kubli, S u z a n n e Lacy, Donald McNeil, Michael Mercil, Patricia Phillips, Phil Pregill, Cesar Trasobares, Mierle L a d e r m a n Ukeles, Nick Winton, and Fran^oise Yohalem. Twin Cities Advisors: Peter Boswell, Fuller Cowles, A m a n d a Degener, Regina Flanagan, Patricia Jesperson, Mariann Johnson. Patrice Clark Koelsch, Julie Marckel, Aaron Parker, and Christine Podas-Larson.

Anna H o m l e r ' s n a m e was misspelled in Jacki A p p l e ' s essay " R a d i o d e a t h " [PAR #13, p. 41], It's Homier, not Hotler. Apple also reports that things have gone f r o m bad to worse at KPFK radio in Los Angeles. A p p l e ' s innovative program " S o u n d i n g s " was dropped, and not surprisingly, so have the arts audiences and the station's annual fund drive revenues. ... The drawing for Keith Sonnier's installation at Trenton, NJ [PAR #13, p. 27] was wrongly attributed to his Munich International Airport project, and it was printed upside down. We are doubly sorry for the error.

FORECAST Board of Directors

Note: We like hearing f r o m our readers. D o n ' t be shy. Send letters to the editor!

T a - C o u m b a Aiken, Cheryl Kartes, Laura Migliorino, Garth Rockcastle, Susan Scofield, Tobi Tanzer, and Laura Weber.

Next Issue

Acknowledgements Support for Public Art Review c o m e s f r o m the National E n d o w m e n t for the Arts-Visual Arts Program, the McKnight Foundation, and the G r a h a m Foundation for the Advanced Study of the Visual Arts. Additional f u n d i n g for F O R E C A S T is provided by the M i n n e s o t a State Arts Board, through an appropriation f r o m the Minnesota State Legislature; the Cowles Media Foundation; General Mills Foundation; J e r o m e Foundation; Honeywell Foundation; T h e Bush Foundation; Arts & E c o n o m i c Development Fund of the City of Saint Paul; and the advertisers, subscribers and friends of F O R E C A S T .

40 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

1996

PLACEMAKING IN THE '90s PAR #15 will feature an interview with artist and architect Maya Lin, and in-depth coverage of the "Veiled Histories" international public art conference taking place in San Francisco this summer.


Ti hn ad t i Ww aa Qs Continuedfrompage 21

Ti Vnl e P nn

r a c i s m , and

sexism.

Based loose]y o n the

NAMES Project's International AIDS Memorial Quilt [see "Recent Projects," p. 42\, The Clothesline Project consists of individually designed shirts, each c o m m e m o r a t i n g a female victim of violence or child sexual abuse, strung on clotheslines in temporary, portable displays in public places. T h e shirts are embellished by survivors of abuse and violence, and friends and relatives of murdered w o m e n , and more shirts are added at every display. The purpose of The Clothesline Project is not only to honor and respect the victims and survivors, but also to raise public awareness about violence against w o m e n , to help unite w o m e n ' s activist groups across the country through the creation of local c o m m u n i t y - b a s e d clotheslines, and to act as a catalyst for healing and e m p o w e r m e n t . Currently, hundreds of c o m m u n i t y clotheslines exist; they were brought together in the first national display of the project, including thousands of shirts, at the April 1995 Rally for W o m e n ' s Lives in Washington, DC. T h e urge to memorialize has been so great at the end of this century that grass-roots efforts as well as officially sponsored c o m missions now p r o d u c e c o m m e m o r a t i v e artwork. Individual artists, operating in the public realm but outside of official sponsorship, have also turned to making memorials. In Boston one of the most successful practitioners of self-motivated c o m m e m o r a tive outdoor sculpture is Christopher Frost. Frost's work e m b r a c e s notions of site-specificity, but his concern for the historical dimensions of a site are equal to his sensitivity to material and formal relationships. So for group outdoor sculpture shows at the Bradley Palmer State Park in Topsfield, and the Larz Anderson Park in Brookline (both 1993), Frost created multi-media site-specific works c o m m e m o r a t i n g Bradley Palmer and Larz Anderson as historical figures, philanthropists, and civic leaders. Frost also works with the Reclamation Artists group, a loose collaborative of sculptors and installation artists w h o create sitespecific work in marginal, neglected, and under-used urban sites in and around Boston. In 1992, the Reclamation Artists organized a show in C a m b r i d g e at a particularly tortured site: the

confluence of the M i l l e r ' s and C h a r l e s rivers, a polluted tidal bog underneath highway and railroad overpasses bordered by a w o r k i n g gravel pit. Frost's work, The Miller's River Project, c o m m e m o r a t e d the tragic history of the river. In the 19th century, the river was lined by the largest c o n c e n t r a t i o n of slaughterhouses east of Chicago. Industrial and animal waste so fouled the river that the cities of C a m b r i d g e and Somerville, finding no alternative, almost entirely filled it in. W h a t remains is an isolated, almost forgotten reed-lined e s t u a r y — a n u n m a n aged urban habitat for birds, fish, reptiles, and insects, now threatened by highway development. T h e gentle and poetic memorial to this dying place consisted of three boats constructed with plant material f r o m the site, suspended over the surface of the Miller's River. T h e s e magical vessels were filled with the bones of animals taken f r o m the hundreds f o u n d in the surrounding soil. Frost's personal c o m m e m o r a t i v e impulse retrieved and brought to public attention an aspect of a city's once-lost urban and environmental history. While Boston and its surrounding c o m m u n i t i e s continue to memorialize traditional subjects—presidents, veterans, and firefighters—they also display a new interest in c o m m e m o r a t i n g c o m m u n i t i e s at large and oppressed groups. T h e "Protectors of the American W a y " survey a landscape in which victims of unbridled industry, Nazi fascism, Puritan hysteria, and violent misogyny are beginning to find long overdue places of r e m e m b r a n c e . T h e prosecutors of liberty meet the persecuted. It is tempting to ascribe this division to the character of a city that has been defined by political and cultural tensions. Boston has long been a battleground where deeply conservative forces like its Brahmins and the Catholic Church have vied with the liberals of C a m b r i d g e and two generations of Kennedy politicians. But this is not a local issue. The c o n t e m porary memorial landscape in Boston is a microcosm of c o m memorative activity nationwide. T h e recent p r o l i f e r a t i o n of memorials has made formerly disenfranchised groups aware that they, too, can stake their claims in public space with monu m e n t s — o b j e c t s and places that play vital roles in the construction of history, cultural values, and public memory. At long last, in Boston and across America, public c o m m e m o r a t i v e art is no longer the exclusive tool of the powers that be. M e m o r i a l s now exist in dialogue, engaging in a conflicted, though far more democratic, discourse. Nick Capasso is associate curator at the DeCordova Museum and Sculpture Park, Lincoln, MA. He is completing a doctoral dissertation on contemporary commemorative art at Rutgers University.

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 41


LISTINGS

Recent Projects

W h i l e it has been around for eight years, the e n t i r e NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt has rarely been unfurled. In 1992, there were 20,064 panels, each recording, sometimes grimly—always p o w e r f u l l y — t h e ravages of A I D S on society. As the largest c o m m u n i t y arts project in history, seen by over 1 million people in more than 2,000 different locations each year, the Quilt is the humanity behind the cruel statistics. From Oct. 11-13, 1996, just f o u r w e e k s b e f o r e national elections, the N A M E S Project will display the entire quilt on " A m e r i c a ' s f r o n t l a w n , " the National Mall; its 4 5 , 0 0 0 panels will cover 30 football fields. During the three d a y s , 7 0 , 0 0 0 n a m e s — m o r e than are carved into the nearby Vietnam Veterans Memorial—will be read by more than 2,000 readers, (photo of the 1992 installation: the N A M E S Project)

T h e 8 /4-acre Alexandria | VA ] AfricanAmerican Heritage Park, completed in 1995, includes a wetlands eco-system and the o n c e - a b a n d o n e d r e m a i n s of an A f r i c a n - A m e r i c a n cemetery dating to the Civil War. Artist J e r o m e M e a d o w s designed and fabricated a variety of elements, including Truths That Rise From the Roots Remembered, a contemplative memorial seating area overlooking the original cemetery. The forms were e m b e l l i s h e d with historic i n f o r m a t i o n gathered with help f r o m the surrounding community, (photo: the artist) Raymond Persinger's bronze, Hero's Journey ( 1 9 9 5 ) , c o u l d easily be mistaken f o r a m e m o r i a l to the O k l a h o m a

42 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

City bombing, w i t h its l a r g e r than-life-size firefighter carrying a c h i l d . It stands, however, in B r e a , Calif o r n i a , w h e r e it commemorates the devastating fires that s w e p t t h r o u g h that area in late 1994. C o m m i s s i o n e d by local b u s i n e s s m a n and r e t i r e d f i r e f i g h t e r G e o r g e T a u n t o n and his w i f e C a r o l , the w o r k a c k n o w l e d g e s the e f f o r t s of the e m e r g e n c y p e r s o n n e l that d e d i c a t e their lives to p r e s e r v i n g the s a f e t y of o t h e r s , ( p h o t o of m o d e l : M. O ' B a r r )

W h e n N e w Y o r k ' s A r c h i v e Project brought "Arts' Communities/AIDS's C o m m u n i t i e s " to the Boston Center for Arts C y c l o r a m a Feb. 22, Hunter Reynolds was already a legendary figure. He p e r f o r m s on a revolving dais in the center of the room. The Boston Globe referred to his a p p e a r a n c e as "solemn yet optimistic ... Acting as his alter ego, Patina du Prey, in feminine m a k e u p but with beard and flat chest, Reynolds wears a black taffeta ball gown printed in gold with the names of 30,000 p e o p l e w h o have died of AIDS. Reynolds' gender-bending suggests the f u n d a m e n t a l human loss at the heart of the tragedy." (photo: Charles Mayer) For her best f r i e n d Jamie Burks, w h o died of A I D S in 1994, Jan Gilbert embarked on a series of memorial projects, ranging f r o m an installation at New Orleans' Contemporary Arts Center to multimedia performance events. Her street installation, For Jamie, at Canal C e m e t e r i e s ,

1996

New Orleans, assisted by artist Charlie Bishop, was presented Dec. I, 1995, in observance of Day Without Art/ World A I D S Day. (photo: the artist) Minneapolis writer and photographer Ken Meter received a Public Art Affairs research grant from F O R E C A S T Public Artworks to develop plans for public installations c o m memorating the centennial of the Philippine declaration of independence (1896-1996). He spent 1995 developing a "more accurate" plaque for the Minnesota State Capitol in St. Paul, and a traveling exhibition depicting the Philippines achieving independence. Meter, who is not Filipino, says, "My Filipino friends feel deeply hurt by [the plaque] that now hangs in the Capitol claiming Minnesota soldiers fought to 'liberate the Philippines from the Spanish oppressor.' In fact, Filipinos were poised at that historic moment to manage the country for themselves. The American invasion replaced Spanish colonial rule with American occupation." (photo of Muslim boy performing a traditional dance at a fair in Zamboanga, in the 1920s; J. Best Collection)

Ritsuko Taho's Postutopia project for the P e n t a - O c e a n Institute of T e c h n o l o g y (Nasu, Japan) (1994), is an artist-designed l a n d s c a p e that f u s e s the traditional Japanese garden with the modern public plaza. Although it draws upon aesthetic principles of both the sculptural object and the site-specific earthwork, Postutopia exists as a welcoming, inspiring, functioning place, redefining a corporate landscape. Explains curator Dana Friis-Hansen, "Taho is simply asserting that the world is not flat—torquing our perceptions. This effect is felt by the b o d y — a small but crucial touch that lifts the space f r o m landscaping to art." A grid of 37 words is embedded in the pavement near the f o u n t a i n , with small b r o n z e plaques that invite the viewer not only to navigate the space, but to read it as well, (photo: the artist)


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Landscapes of Tokyo (1995), at Harbourfront C e n t r e ,

Toronto, installations f o c u s e d on the circumscribed interior space of a yojohan—a room based on the five fourand-a-half tatami mats traditionally used to measure units of space in J a p a n e s e h o u s i n g . I n f o r m e d by traditional Japanese tea ceremony r o o m s — a colloquial f o r m of minimalist a r t — s p a c e is regarded not only in practical terms of volume, but also as an aesthetic and spiritual m e d i u m . O n e installation by a r c h i t e c t J o h n S c h n i e r introduced a tree, its branches sheared off a w k w a r d l y yet eloquently, to the spatial equation of mirror and glass. States Schnier: " T h e tree, a product of the free-ranging forest, serves as a reminder that the open landscape is a resource that is no longer taken for granted." (photo: Michael Awad)

New York City artist Dan Witz [see PAR #12, p. 6] was back on the streets of M a n h a t t a n ' s Lower East Side last fall with a series of new, adhesive-backed graffiti. U s i n g p h o t o g r a p h s of f o u n d objects, or hand-crafted items, Witz scans and reproduces thousands of images, and prints them onto sticker s t o c k — o f t e n hand-colored and cut o u t — a n d applies t h e m to p r e v i o u s l y - s c o u t e d locations. With a Magrittian surrealism, each piece seamlessly blends found graffiti into a sea of floating icons—plates, razors, fish, bats, w o r m s , etc. T h e h a r d e s t part, according to Witz, is finding some sort of venue for the photo-documentation, " s o the pictures can g o out in the world and have an actual life." PAR hereby obliges, (photo: the artist) The ongoing work of S p a n i s h artist RENT A BODY Paco C a o is challenging the boundaries between art-making and other f o r m s of work. His U.S. premiere, under the auspices of Creative Time, is called Paco Cao, Rent A Body. C a o ' s agency in Spain

PACO CAO

offers the artist's body for rent to p e r f o r m three types of services (Basic, P r e m i u m , and Deluxe). Although his brochure states "Carnal Knowledge Will Not Be Considered," he willingly provides "physical presence," "small physical and intellectual tasks," and even "intensive intellectual activity." How d o you hire h i m ? Just call (212) 2 0 6 - 6 6 7 4 ext. 2 6 4 and fork out $35 to $ 1 5 0 an hour. According to the April 7 New York Times Magazine, he has posed for a photographer ("For m e to be naked is to be dressed") and played Jesus in a church pageant. If nothing else, his brochure is well worth ordering, (logo courtesy Creative Time)

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Since The Little Train That Could...Show (1984), using 12 abandoned railroad cars, T h e Revolving M u s e u m in Boston has received growing recognition for its public art programs involving a broad segment of the community. Their current project, the / Scream Truck, is a deliriouslytransformed ice cream truck, circulating artists' books, presenting w o r k s h o p s and events, and generally delivering art to the public. Artistic director Jerry Beck plans to travel to sites around the country after this summer, (drawing: Jerry Beck)

Gainesville, FL, is Money Magazine's "Most Livable City," and ironically or not, currently h o m e to Eric A m u n d s o n ' s latest installation: The Prospero Perspective: split field inversion. Consisting of 20-foot m a i n s (blue P V C pipe) b a l a n c e d on uprooted trees in a 20-acre pasture, the project refers to nearby highway construction and the eventual absorption of the site by aggressive urban sprawl. While nearby motorists can glimpse lines "converging and diverging like rooftops," the resident cows have the best view. A m u n d s o n was assisted by artist J a m e s Rizzo, John Hipp C o n s t r u c t i o n Co., and r a n c h e r G e n e Rowland, (photo: the artist)

Nearing completion in Brooklyn, NY, as we g o to press, is Vito A c c o n c i ' s Addition to Metrotech Gardens, at the C o m m o n s at Metrotech Center. With over 800 pots of English ivy and other " c r e e p e r s " planted last fall, the g a r d e n ' s chain link m a z e will soon be t r a n s f o r m e d into a horizontal plane of green plant life. T h e scale is such that viewers can explore the site with a full view of their s u r r o u n d i n g s — a n d othe r s — y e t sit isolated, surrounded by vines. T h e project is sponsored by Public Art Fund, w h o s e efforts around N e w York City have been prolific, including several recent and n o t e w o r t h y T o m O t t e r n e s s installations at Doris F r e e d m a n Plaza in Manhattan, (photo: Tom Eccles)

#

Claire Jeanine Satin is c o m p l e t i n g w o r k on a variety of alphaypiif bet-related walls and walkways for the Pembroke Pines L i b r a r y in B r o w a r d County. FL. Based on the history and develJHHPg o p m e n t of w r i t t e n language, the w o r k s are meant to be both visually appealing and instructive to both children and adults. Satin refers to the alphabet and writing as "the f u n d a m e n t a l b u i l d i n g b l o c k s of r e a d i n g , l e a r n i n g , research and c o m m u n i c a t i o n ; m a n ' s most p r o f o u n d invention." (sketch by the artist)

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For Beaded Circle Crossing (1994), at the Denver International Airport. Alice A d a m s designed t w o giant a l u m i n u m arches that spring up over a m o v i n g walkway in C o n c o u r s e B. At the sides of the bridge the arches support parallel w e b bings of alternating long white beads and argon-lighted tubing, f o r m i n g two iridescent arcs. Directly overhead, irregularlyspaced cylindrical rods support a lighted ring of yellow argon tubing w o u n d in a helix, (photo: Daniel O ' C o n n o r )

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 43


Of Special Interest D o n a l d L i p s k i ' s sculpture Flag Ball No. 3, on the c a m p u s of C.W. Post College (part of L o n g Island University, NY), was attacked and destroyed by a knife-wielding assailant following protests by veterans' g r o u p s and U.S. Rep. Peter T. King, w h o claimed that it o f f e n d e d " g o o d taste, decency, and reverence for the American flag." T h e work resembles a gigantic ball of twine, using old flags instead of string. According to the National C a m p a i g n for F r e e d o m of Expression newsletter, no arrests have been m a d e to date, but the police did find a knife in the snow nearby. S o far, the college has failed to publicly d e n o u n c e the attack. Lipski feels that the college administrators are "glad to see the piece go and want to move on with as little publicity as possible." Before the assualt, the work was to have been moved to and exhibited at the Whitney M u s e u m branch in the Philip Morris building, NY. Lipski indicates that he may recycle the shredded remains of the piece to create a new sculpture. Christo and J e a n n e - C l a u d e are planning a follow-up to last s u m m e r ' s wrapping of the Reichstag [see PAR #11 and 13], which reportedly earned the city of Berlin over $ 1 0 0 million in additional taxes. They hope to suspend fabric panels f r o m cables six to 25 feet above the Rio G r a n d e river for a distance of four to six miles south of Pilar, N M . According to the artists, "streams of successive panels will be interrupted by bridges, rocks, trees, or bushes, creating abundant flows of light." [Artnews, 3/96]. T h e project, which has not been officially scheduled, will remain on view for 14 days ... And the New York Times Magazine [3/31J reports that the d u o still hopes to fulfill their wish to create a work for their h o m e t o w n of N e w York City. C h r i s t o first p r o p o s e d the Gates project in 1980—without l u c k — lining 25 miles of Centra! Park paths for t w o weeks with 11,000 "rectangular steel gates that would hold fluttering saffronc o l o r e d b a n n e r s . " A c c o r d i n g to J o h n Tierney at the Times, "Gigantic public art exhibits would bring j o b s and cash to New York. W h a t a terrible idea." T h e p r o v o c a t i v e j o u r n a l High Performance is back in circulation, with editors L i n d a F r y e B u r n h a m and S t e v e n D u r l a n d at the helm again. HP took a y e a r ' s hiatus, and is now offered as a quarterly benefit for m e m b e r s of their new non-profit Art in the Public Interest (API). Previous active subscribers will b e c o m e automatic m e m b e r s . T h e rest of us need to join as an individual ($20/yr), student ($15/yr), library ($35/yr), or organization

44 PUBLIC ART REVIEW SPRING/SUMMER

($5()/yr). For information, call (910) 3768404. You can also check out A P I ' s h o m e p a g e on the World W i d e W e b at http://artswire.org/Com munity/highperf/APIhome.html Taggers beware! High-tech graffiti r e m o v a l is just a r o u n d the corner. L a w r e n c e L i v e r m o r e L a b o r a t o r y , the California builder of high-powered military lasers, claim to have a new laser able to clean a five-foot swath of freeway wall 6 0 0 feet long in just one hour, without marring the underlying surfaces. According to a report in the New York Times [4/20], the 100-watt green beam uses photoacoustic stress waves instead of heat, pulverizing paint into a fine dust with a "popping sound." Each laser with its a c c o m p a n y i n g safety equipment and pointing devises would cost $250,000.

Turnovers G l e n n Harper, f o r m e r editor at Atlanta's Artpapers, is now editor at Sculpture m a g a z i n e , p u b l i s h e d the International Sculpture Center (ISC) [see Harper's "Public Art for the Olympics," p. 37] ... J e a n n e C . P o n d has joined ISC as the new Executive Director. Pond is formerly of the Abington Art Center in Jenkintown, PA. T o m E c c l e s has been appointed the deputy director of the Public Art Fund in N e w York. Eccles, w h o p r e v i o u s l y served as project director, co-curating "Urban Paradise: Gardens in the City," replaces J a m e s Clark, w h o is currently a visiting scholar at New York University's Taub Urban Research Center [see Clark's "Jochen Gerz: The Cultural Perspective," p. 18],

Recent Publications Strange Sites: Uncommon Homes & Gardens of the Pacific Northwest, by Jim Christy (Madeira Park, British Columbia: Harbour Publishing, 1996, $24.95). It's human nature to put a personal stamp on the places we live. Meet those who go a little further. In photographs and essays, Strange Sites d o c u m e n t s inhabitants' trans c e n d e n t imagination and eccentricity, f r o m a "lawn ornament extravaganza" to intricate painted-rock mosaics to a miniature Dodge City (each figure nailed down and cemented for permanence) that occupies an entire back yard. Joyce Kozloff: Public Art Works, [video] produced by H e r m i n e Freed (New York: H e r m i n e Freed Video Productions, $125 V H S , $ 1 5 0 3/4"). Joyce Kozloff was one

1996

of the first of her generation to enter the arena of public art. She is interviewed at the sites of projects—beautifully executed murals and large-scale mosaics—in this video, which is about 50 minutes long. Tapes, models, drawings, and slides also illustrate her work. To order, call (212) 475-5256. Conviviality: Flirtation, Displeasure and the Hospitable in the Visual Arts, by the Hirsch Farm Project (Northbrook, IL: Hirsch F o u n d a t i o n , 1995, no price). Designed as a cross between an exhibition catalog and an a c a d e m i c journal, Conviviality focuses on the 1995 Hirsch Farm Project in Hillsboro, WI, when several people working in the visual arts and a r c h i t e c t u r e w e r e invited " u n d e r the u m b r e l l a of c o n v i v i a l i t y " to d r a f t an abstract and give an informal presentation based on the abstract. This book offers selections f r o m the project. On the Ground: The Multimedia Journal on Community, Design & Environment, p u b l i s h e d quarterly by Thousand Words in Berkeley, C A (subscriptions $36 in the United States), just wrapped up its first year of publication. Of particular interest is its fourth issue of 1995, themed " W h e r e Is Public Art?" T h e magazine also has a Web site at http://www.ontheground.com/~org, where readers can find visual and prose supplements to articles. Sculpting With the Environment—A Natural Dialogue, edited by Baile Oakes (New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1995, n o price). A r t i s t s ' e s s a y s a c c o m p a n y abundant photographs of their works, all of which are designed to make people aware of the planet we dwell on and depend on for survival. Artworks include Charles Ross' prisms reflected into sterile, manufactured environments like a mall in Dallas; and sculptures by Michele Oka D o n e r that are submerged in the ocean, accrete several inches of thickness in their marine homes, and are then installed at beach parks, [see Exhibitions and Events for related listing] Different Minds, Different Voices, by Virginia A r o n s o n ( B o c a R a t o n , F L : Paradux & Gossling, Inc., 1996, $19.95). T h i s book e x p l o r e s the r e l a t i o n s h i p between mental illness and art, focusing on 11 " m a d " artists. G e r a l d H a w k e s believes his matchstick sculptures convey messages f r o m God. His detailed works often are dyed with such materials as coffee grounds and berries. He also uses as media "materials of fortune," items he thinks are beautiful that he c o m e s upon in parks and alleys. Interviews with the artists illuminate their inner worlds.


Community Bridge, by Shared Vision: Public Art for C o m m u n i t y Transformation (Frederick, M D : S h a r e d Vision, 1995, $12). This book was published for the Community Bridge mural dedication in Frederick, M D . A bridge was the first planned structure for the much-anticipated Carroll C r e e k Park. At the last minute, muralist William Cochran offered to paint a trompe l'oeil mural of an old stone bridge onto the bridge. What emerged f r o m his proposal was the stunning Community Bridge. C o m m u n i t y m e m b e r s were asked, " W h a t object represents the spirit of c o m m u n i t y to y o u ? " and their ideas—clasped hands, a spider web, the a l p h a b e t — w e r e incorporated as intricate, individual stones in the mural. Art in Transit ... Making It Happen, by W e n d y Feuer ( W a s h i n g t o n , D.C: Federal Transit Administration, 1996, free). This full-color book records artists' roles in 10 efforts across the nation to m a k e transit facilities more a p p e a l i n g p l a c e s to be. Examples include Seattle's 425 vibrant, colorful bus-shelter murals, and Los Angeles' light-rail Green Line, where snippets of conversations are carved into stairs. The projects included will help those undertaking not only art in transit projects but any public art project, promoting continued creativity in the field—above ground or below. To order a f r e e copy, call Wendy Feuer, director of Arts for Transit & Facilities Design, New York State Metropolitan Transportation Authority, (212) 878-7250. Twelve Ounce Prophet, a quarterly magazine by Straight From the Bottom Inc. in M i a m i ( s u b s c r i p t i o n s $ 1 8 in the United States), recently published its second issue. The full-color magazine is devoted almost entirely to photos of graffiti nationwide, submitted by readers. The second issue's only text pieces are an interview with a Rhode Island graffiti artist and a page on how to elude night-vision surveillance, get paint inexpensively (photocopy bar codes f r o m cheaper products and attach them to the more expensive brand), and defraud the U.S. Postal Service. Artesao Brasileiro: Folk Art of Northeastern Brazil, by Laumeier S c u l p t u r e Park (St. L o u i s : L a u m e i e r Sculpture Park, 1995, no price). This g e m of a catalog accompanied a festival and exhibition at Laumeier Sculpture Park last year. Small doll-like sculptures, mostly of p a i n t e d c e r a m i c and w o o d , are p h o tographed in full color. Two essays c o m prise the text of the book, including one by Jacques Van de Beuque published in English and Spanish.

Cultural Economies: Histories From the Alternative Arts Movement, NYC, a special issue of REAL LIFE Magazine that a c c o m p a n i e s an exhibition at T h e Drawing Center in New York of the same title, is co-published by REAL LIFE Magazine in Valencia, C A (price unavailable). T h e publication includes a essays by guest curator Julie Ault and T h o m a s Lawson, but otherwise is a compilation of reprinted press articles on the alternative arts m o v e m e n t and related concerns.

than 130 incidents of c e n s o r s h i p and other "culture w a r " battles are featured, with insight and analysis into the c o m plex political, social and cultural f o r c e s silencing the work of artists. To e n c o u r age advocacy for public support and f r e e expression, this y e a r ' s report includes an "action kit" designed to equip artists and others with practical k n o w - h o w to organize support in their c o m m u n i t i e s . For more information contact Aaron Eichorst, (202) 4 6 7 - 4 9 9 9 . Also, check out P F A W ' s website at http://www.pfaw.org

Saint Paul Cultural Garden, edited by Cliff Garten (St. Paul, M N : Place Place Press, 1996, $ 1 7 . 5 0 ) . E s s a y s , p h o tographs, maps, and poetry are pulled together in an intriguingly designed fullcolor book to tell the story of a public art project in St. Paul, M N , directed by sculptor Cliff Garten in St. Paul, M N . The garden is a combination of sculpture and poetry that evokes the rich cultural history of the area while drawing on the p o w e r f u l landscape. Lucy Lippard, David Mura, and Mary Jane Jacob are a m o n g the contributors.

Watermark by G u y Julier (Lancashire, England: Cardiff Bay Art Trust, 1996. n o price). Cardiff Bay Art Trust w o r k s with the public and private sectors to transform the everyday e n v i r o n m e n t and create a strong sense of place and identity. M a n y of their c o l l a b o r a t i v e p r o j e c t s r e f l e c t intense involvement by the entire c o m m u nity. A r t i s t s C h a r l e s Q u i c k a n d A l a n R o g e r s ' p r o j e c t f o r the B u t e D o c k s P u m p i n g Station is exquisitely recorded in this full-color d o c u m e n t , f r o m design to fabrication. T h e final results c o m b i n e futuristic light sculptures atop a multi-colored plaza alongside a minimalist Q u o n s e t hut with white metallic siding. Somehow, the c o m b i n a t i o n works.

Sensing Place: A Guide to Community Culture, by Kathleen Mundell and Hilary A n n e Frost-Kumpf (Augusta, M E : Maine Arts C o m m i s s i o n , 1995, no price). This bright and appealing guide is designed to "help you assess and develop the artistic potential within your own community." Its practical advice, which serves as a starting point for anyone w h o d o e s n ' t know where and how to begin a publicarts initiative, includes how to define the c o m m u n i t y (geographically, politically, culturally, etc.) and how to develop a c o m m u n i t y profile. Intended for Maine residents, the g u i d e ' s applications g o beyond state boundaries. Waves of Influence, by Olivia George (Staten Island, NY: T h e Snug H a r b o r Cultural Center, 1995, no price). This catalog c o m p l e m e n t s the 1994 exhibition of Portuguese ceramic tile that f o r m e d the central f o c u s of Snug H a r b o r ' s multimedia project about Portuguese art and culture, also called Waves of Influence. Information in English and Portuguese illuminates photographs of the beautifully c r a f t e d — a n d often large s c a l e — c e r a m i c art; a historical survey of the art f o r m is also included.

Graffiti Veritie (read The Writing on the Wall) [video] p r o d u c e d by B o b Bryan, (Los Angeles: Bryan World Productions, 4 5 minutes, $21 V H S , includes shipping). This newly released and beautifully produced documentary uncovers the underground Los A n g e l e s graffiti m o v e m e n t and explores its relation to c o n t e m p o r a r y Hip H o p culture. C l o s e - u p and personal. Graffiti Veritie profiles 2 4 spraycan artists and their life on the streets. Rap Pages calls the tape "required viewing f o r all citizens of big cities that d o n ' t understand the significance and impact of graffiti." To order, call (213) 856-9256. Bronze Casting: A Manual of Techniques by G u y T h o m a s ( N o r t h P o m f r e t , VT: C r o w o o d Press). A practical guide that d e m o n s t r a t e s clay, w a x and plaster modeling and casting methods. Bronze Casting is available f r o m Trafalgar Square Distributors f o r $35. To order a copy, contact Trafalgar Square, North P o m f r e t , VT. 0 5 0 5 3 , or call (802) 457-1911. Listings c o n t i n u e d o n m a i l i n g sleeve

Artistic Freedom Under Attack, Vol. 4, by P e o p l e f o r the A m e r i c a n Way ( W a s h i n g - t o n , D . C : P e o p l e f o r the American Way, 1996, $15.95; $13.95 for PFAW m e m b e r s ) . P e o p l e ' s " A r t s a v e " project has just released its annual report documenting challenges to artistic expression across the United States. M o r e

Send entries for Listings to: Public Art R e v i e w 2324 University Ave. W. St. Paul, MN 55114 Fax: 612-641-0028 E-mail: forecast@mtn.org

SPRING/SUMMER

1996 PUBLIC ART REVIEW 45


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PULL-OUT SECTION: DATED MATERIAL!

Exhibitions and Events A Natural Dialogue: Sculpting with the Environment, Chicago. This touring exhibit surveys significant works of environmental art. Twenty-three artists propose solutions to pressing ecological problems, concentrating on the art of reclamation. C o p r o d u c e d by International Sculpture C e n t e r ' s exhibitions director Carla Hanzal and sculptor/curator Baile Oakes, the exhibition features large-scale photographs of works by James Turrell, Alan j Sonfist, Nancy Holt, Mel Chin, Mierle Ukeles, and others. A Natural Dialogue will be at the Chicago Botanic Garden May 3 - June 16. According to Roger Vandiver, curator at the Botanic Garden. "The idea that artists would be concerned with our connections to the natural is alien to most people ... Our mission expressly directs our activities toward public education and environmental issues—opening the door to untried ways of looking at art and nature." For information about this touring exhibition, contact Glen Gentele at ISC, (202) 785-1144 [see A Natural Dialogue, p. 45]. Big People: The Bell Tower Illuminations, Minneapolis, MN. May 4-31. Starting at dusk each evening, the bell tower of the CedarRiverside People's Center will come alive with the portraits—and the words—of some 50 ordinary and not-so-ordinary Twin Citians. St. Paul installation artist Laurie Phillips [PAR #13, p. 25] devised an ingenious system of projectors, magnifiers and reflectors to present her subjects, including 12-foot-high portraits of nearby residents and their pets. According to Phillips, "the historical role of a bell tower was to summon people to gather for worship. With these images I'm summoning people to come, to gather, and get to know one another." Big People is sponsored by F O R E C A S T through their Public Art Affairs program. The full cycle i of slides, projected on all four sides of the tower, will be repeated every 20 minutes. For information, call (612) 641-1128.

I

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Convergence IX, Providence, RI. The ninth annual Convergence International Art Festival, June 1-9, will be held in conjunction with the 16th International Sculpture Center's conference [see Conferences & Meetings], The festival features artists from around the globe, including a number of sculptors creating large-scale indoor and outdoor works around downtown, and throughout Roger Williams Park; some of the 45 sculptures are very temporary, and some will remain on site for over a year. For information, call Bob Rizzo, Providence Office of Cultural Affairs, (401) 785-9450 extension 241. Ignisfatuus, Baltimore, MD. The Contemporary, Baltimore's best non-museum, is presenting a new installation by Paul Etienne Lincoln through June 2 at the Conservatory in Druid Hill Park, a functioning Victorian greenhouse. Ignisfatuus (the name refers to a rare nocturnal phenomenon when gaseous light hovers over marshy ground) is composed of a series of intricate glass vessels and mechanisms, periodically illuminated as strains of the late opera diva Rosa Ponselle fill the room. Lincoln was assisted by botanists, a microbiologist, a neurosurgeon, and a former singer from the

Baltimore Opera Co. For information about the installation, and a variety of complementary public programs scheduled, call The Contemporary, (410)333-8600.

LynLake Street Fair, this event was inspired by Houston's annual art car event. To participate or receive more information, contact organizer Jan Elftmann at Intermedia Arts (612) 871-4444.

Re-inventing the Garden City, Chicago. Sculpture Chicago, the catalyst behind "Culture in Action" (1993) [see PAR # 9, p. 4] will join four artists with the Chicago Park District and resident communities to develop site-specific projects at four neighborhood parks in Chicago this summer. The parks were chosen to reexamine the relationship between Chicago's parks and its people; Chicago used to be called "The Garden City" in the 1870s because of its extensive system of parks and boulevards. Reinventing the Garden City features artists Miroslaw Rogala, Pepon Osorio, Ellen Rothenberg, and Dennis Adams. Before the completion of each project, a series of lectures, workshops, and roundtable discussions are planned, investigating the potential of public parks as sites for community use and public art projects. From June 8 through Sept. 7 the projects will be open for public viewing, with special events planned at each site. A documentary catalog is planned for the fall. For details, call Sculpture Chicago, (312) 759-1690.

Second Sight, New York, NY. The Whitney Museum of American Art at Philip Morris is hosting Second Sight, a live-part series of sitespecific performance events as part of its ninth season of "Performance on 42nd." Directed by branch manager Jeanette Vuocolo, the series includes 80 Fingers: The Duo Piano MiniFestival on May 10 at 7:30 pm., and Banana Split, featuring choreographer and performance artist Patricia Hoffbauer, on May 22, 12:30 and 7:30 pm. Shelley Hirsch's For Jerry is on June 12 at 8:30 p.m. Shortly before his death, Jerry Hunt, the noted pioneer of live electronic music and interactive performance, designated Hirsch as one of the artists to work with his materials posthumously. For details call (212) 878-2475.

Trilogi, Denmark. A joint effort between Tickon, Kunsthallen Brandts, KL/Edefabrik, and the (Copenhagen) Botanic Garden. In addition to the Botanic Garden, other Danish sites are employed, including the Kunsthallen in Odense and the island of Langeland. This program encouraged collaboration between artists and specialists in such natural sciences as biology, botany, and zoology. The relationship between nature, art, and science is explored from such perspectives as environmental art and new media. The planned roster of 20 international artists thus far includes David Nash, Herman de Vries, Patrick Dougherty, Chris Drury, Herman Prigann, Mikael Hansen, Mogens Otto Nielsen, Marios Spiliopoulos, Andy Goldsworthy, Alfio Bonanno, Panos Charlambous, Edward Poitras, and Dominique Bailly. Trilogi is scheduled for inauguration in June. Tahiti: Contemporary Art in an Age of Uncertainty. This year's version of the Hirsch Farm Project (HFP), an arts-based think tank, began in April on the remote island of Rangiroa, the second-largest coral atoll in French Polynesia. The artists selected by HFP director Mitchell Kane are painters John Currin, Alexis Rockman, and Judie Bamber; fashion designer/photographer Mariko Mori; and sculptor Gregory Green. Participants in Tahiti will address a variety of issues—about the environment, violence, gender, sexuality, and aesthetics—that deal with today's uncertainty facing both the arts and society at large. Three months later, in July, they will reconvene at the Hirsch Farm in Hillsboro, WI, to discuss collaboratively and finalize their proposals for the Hirsch Farm Project's annual publication. For more information, call (847) 480-2000 [last year's book Conviviality is noted on page 45], Wheels As Art II, Minneapolis. Look for a most unusual traffic jam on July 20, as Intermedia Arts hosts its second annual Wheels as Art car rally. Presented in conjunction with the

Conferences & Meetings AIA, Minneapolis, May 10-13. This year's American Institute of Architects' (AIA) national convention and exhibition will be attended by 7,000 to 10,000 colleagues in the field. The theme this year is "Value," reflecting the tighter economy of the '90s. On the bill are architect Cesar Pelli and John Norquist, mayor of Milwaukee, among many others. For conference information, call AIA, (202) 626-7300. The Northwest Stone Sculptors Association 1996 Oregon Stone Sculptors Symposium, Silver Falls State Park, OR, May 24-27. The symposium will include workshops, lectures, private space, and evening slide sessions. The package includes lodging, meals, and full use of the natural surroundings for four days. For information, call Tom Miller, (503) 221-3985. NALAA, St. Louis, MO, June 1-4. The theme of this year's National Assembly of Local Arts Agencies conference is "The Cultural Community: Thriving through Leadership." The conference features keynote speakers Jane Alexander (NEA chairwoman), Sheldon Hackney (NEH chairman), and Kevin Phillips (author and political analyst). Of special note is the Art in Public Places preconference, May 30-June 1, focusing on urban design issues around the country. Speakers include Jerry Allen, Harriet Traurig, Jack Mackie, Penny Bach, Jennifer Dowling, and Jack Becker [from PAR], For more information, contact NALAA, (202) 371 -2830. Fifth International C o n f e r e n c e of the Cyberspace, Art and Technology Foundation, Madrid, Spain, June 6-9. T h e conference will address the social, political, and cultural implications of cyberspace from a critical standpoint. Registration deadline is May 1. Contact 5CYBERCONF, Fundacion Arte y Technologia, Gran Via, 28. 2 planta, 28013 Madrid, Espana. (34-1) 521-9380. FAX: (34-1) 521-0041. 5cyberconf@ceai.tele-foica.es or http://www.telefonica.es/fat. Crossing Boundaries, Providence, RI, June 6-8. The International Sculpture C e n t e r ' s (ISC) annual conference will honor artist Robert


Rauschenberg with ISC's Lifetime Achievement Award, and will feature a wide variety of presentations and workshops, many of which address public art. Featured speakers and panelists include critic and curator Michael Brenson, Donna Graves, William Tucker, John Beardsley, Michael Singer, Mel Chin, Jessica Cusick, Lisa Corrin, Christopher Janney, and Ron Jones. Of special interest is Patricia Phillips' panel on "Commemoration at (he End of the 20th Century." For details, call Mary Catherine at ISC, (202) 785-1144. International Arts Funding Conference, New York, NY, July 2-14. For information contact (he American Council for (he Arts, I East 53rd St., New York, NY 10022; (212) 223-ARTS, x 231; or fax (212) 980-4857. Veiled Histories, The Reinterpretation of Place Through the Work of Contemporary Artists, San Francisco, CA, July 8-13. Organized by Anna Novakov, the conference features many prominent public artists, including Dennis Adams, Suzanne Lacy, Jochen Gerz, Krzysztof Wodiczko, Buster Simpson, Su-Chen Hung, Anna Valentina Murch, Doug Hoi lis, Ann Chamberlain, and Seyed Alavi. Exploring the nature of history as a series of "veiled constructs," this international conference will address issues of identity and place, and systems of cultural dissemination. Look for complete coverage of "Veiled Histories" in the next issue ot PAR. For more details, call the San Francisco Art Institute, (415)771-7020. An International Symposium for Sculptors, Bursa, Turkey, Aug. 23-Sept. 30. Organized by the Uludag University of Bursa, eight artists from five nations (six men and two women) will create works at a historic site and promote cultural exchange. Participating artists are Richard Jackson (USA), Les Levine (USA), Yutaka Matsuzawa (Japan), Fiisiin Onur (Turkey), Patrick Raynaud (France), Mike Rodemer (USA), Yildiz Tiiziin (Germany/ Turkey), and Giinther Uecker (Germany). For more information, contact Gabriele Hoffman in Germany, (711)385175. The 9th Annual Midwest Arts Conference, St. Louis, MO, Sept. 19-21. This annual performing arts booking and education conference is the second largest such conference in the U.S., bringing together close to 1,000 artists, facility managers, and arts administrators. In addition to (he booking session, there are pre-conference seminars, workshops, roundtable discussions, and professional development opportunities. Administered by Arts Midwest with assistance from Mid-America Arts Alliance, the conference covers a 15-state region, with attendees from all over the United States, Canada, and Mexico. For more information, contact Arts Midwest, (612) 341-0755 [e-mail: general @artsmidwest.org; or web site: http://www. artswire.org/Artswire/artsmidwest/liome.htm]. Junction 96: Art and Public Transport, Lisbon, Portugal, Sept. 28-Oct. 1. This international conference, simultaneously translated into three languages—Portugese, French, and English—will explore the global culture of public art. Leading artists, architects, and public art specialists from ten

countries are scheduled. For more information, contact the City of Lisbon department of International Affairs, (+351) 1.350-0188.

12, 1996. Deadline May 1. Contact Patrick Farley, Rose Resnick Lighthouse for the Blind and Visually Impaired, 214 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco, CA 94102; (415) 431 -1481.

Playing for Keeps, a Game Plan to Save Outdoor Sculpture, Washington DC, Nov. 16-19. This international town meeting, hosted by Save Outdoor Sculpture! (SOS!), features sculptor Luis Jimenez as the keynote speaker. Other guests include author Erika Doss, conserva(or Ross Merri II, public art consultant Rita Roose-velt, and Richard Rabinowitz, president of the American History Workshop. For information, call SOS!, (800) 422-4612 or (202)625-1495.

Indoor/Outdoor Sculpture Competition. Open to all professional sculptors. No fee. Honorarias offered. Deadline May 2. Send SASE for info: Bellevue Sculpture Exhibition, Bcllevue Arts Commission, City of Bellevue, Dept of Planning, Neighborhoods, and Economic Development, PO Box 90012, Bellevue, WA 98009-9012.

Artists Opportunities Although Public Art Review makes an effort to verify all the information contained in these listings, artists are advised to check deadlines and eligibility requirements before investing time or money. While PAR discourages entry fees for competitions, we don't edit them out. Organizations wishing to list an opportunity should send a n n o u n c e m e n t s to Listings, PAR, 2324 University Ave. W., Suite 102, St. Paul, M N 55114, USA, or call (612) 641-1128 [fax: (612) 641-1983 or 641-0028; E-Mail forecast@mtn.org]. The deadlines for submitting information for the October issue is September 1; for the April issue, March 1. Please note that we will continually update listings on our PAR Web Site in 1997. Please send announcements for opportunities well before the deadline to give as much time to artists as possible. If you receive this issue after a deadline has passed, w e ' r e sorry. We suggest you contact the organization anyway, in case it is an annual opportunity, or the deadline has been extended.

Artsites 96 will take place May 22-July 27. Artists in Washington DC and Baltimore area are requested to send slides April 30 - June 30. Send SASE for prospectus: Rockville Arts Place, 100 East Middle Lane, Rockville, MD 20850; (301)309-6900. Florida Art-In-State-Buildings Program seeks an outdoor artwork for Florida State University's LIniversity Center. The budget is $100,000. Deadline May 1. Include a brief statement, minimum 10 slides, slide sheet, resume and SASE. Contact Art-in-StateBuildings Program, BR-204, University Center, c/o Robin Franklin Nigh, Florida State University, Museum of Fine Arts, Corner of West Tennessee & Copeland, Tallahassee, FL 32306-2055; (904) 644-1253. The Portage Public Library seeks proposals for a sculpture commission. Open to Michigan artists, the budget is $55,OCX). Deadline May 1. Contact Christine Berro, interim city librarian, Portage Public library, 300 Library lane, Portage, MI 49002; (616) 329-4541. Insights '96. 9th Annual exhibition by artists who are blind or visually impaired, June 6-July

Memory As Metaphor, the 14th Annual Juried Exhibition at Pleiades Gallery, June 19-July 13. Juror: critic, educator, and author Harriet F. Senie. [PAR doesn't normally list gallery opportunities, but this one seems worth mentioning]. Deadline May 10. Send SASE for prospectus to 591 Broadway, 2nd Fl„ New York, NY 10012; (212) 274-8825. Travel and Study Grants are available for Minnestoa arts professionals in all disciplines. Deadline May 15 for travel commencing after July 1. Up to $5,000 per request for travel of one week or longer. Call for an application for the Travel and Study Grant Program, c/o Jerome Foundation (612) 224-9461. Arts Midwest provides regional arts fellowships for individuals in IL, IN, IA, MI, MN, ND, OH, SD, or WI. The next deadline, for painting and works on paper, is May 15. For more information, contact Arts Midwest, 528 Hennepin Ave. Suite 310, Minneapolis, MN 55403; (612) 341-0755. The Los Angeles Zoo seeks artists to help redesign the chimpanzee and orangutan exhibits as part of their great ape forest master plan. One to three California artists will be awarded commissions. The budget is $218,000. Deadline May 20. To obtain an application, contact Mark Johnstone, Cultural Affairs Department, 433 S. Spring Street, 10th floor, Los Angeles, CA 90013; (213) 485-9570. Sixth Outdoor Sculpture Competition. The City of Los Altos seeks artists from the United States, Canada, and Mexico. Deadline May 30. Selected works must be available for purchase, on loan to the city for 18-24 months. For a prospectus, send SASE to Brian McCarthy, City of Los Altos Arts Committee, #1 N. San Antonio Rd., Los Altos, CA 94022. Young Sculptors Awards for artists 35 and younger. Deadline May 31. Send #10 SASE for prospectus: National Sculpture Society, 1177 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10036; (212) 764-5645. First Annual Outdoor Sculpture Exhibition, Oct. 1, 1996—July 31, 1997. Washburn University, in Topeka, KS, seeks sculptors aged 18 and above to participate. Exhibitors will receive a $500 honorarium. Deadline June 1. For details, contact Greg Inkmann, (913) 272-4722. The New York Chapter of the Illuminating Engineering Society of North America invites entries for the 1996 Richard Kelly Grant, offered to encourage creative thought


and activity in the use of light. Grants from $500 to $ 1,000 will be awarded to applicants under the age of 36. Deadline June 3. Send an SASE to the Richard Kelly Grant, c/o IES, 120 Wall St., 17th floor, New York, NY 10005; (212) 248-5000, ext. 118. The Annmarie Garden, a contemplative sculpture garden being developed in Bethesda, MD, announces its second annual competition for a " r o o m " to be created by an artist/landscape architect team within (he garden. The theme is "Memory," and the budget is $125,000. Deadline June 15. For a prospectus, send an SASE to Franyoise Yohalem, Art Consultant, Annmarie Garden, 10834 Antigua Terrace., Bethesda, MD 20852. New Voices, New Visions, a collaboration of Interval Corporation and The Voyager Company. To support creative people using computers for original works. Deadline June 28 for digital works (not commercially marketed) that can be sent in their entirety on a computer-readable medium (PC or Macintosh). Any subject. No installations. Jury includes Laurie Anderson, Lynda Barry, and others. Questions: staff@nvnv.org or call (415)855-0780. Anderson Ranch Arts Center's Visiting Artists Program. Designed to encourage established artists to explore new technical or aesthetic realms in their work, the progam provides housing, travel, honoraria, materials stipend, and use of facilities to complete a project. Deadline Sept. 15. Sessions range from a week to a month, from Jan. 1 through Dec. 31, 1997. To receive a Visiting Artist information packet, contact Anderson Ranch Arts Center, PO Box 5598, Snowmass Village, C O 81615; (970) 923-3181. Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts supports visual artists by providing studios, living space, and monthly stipends. Twomonth to six-month residencies are available. Deadline for 96-97 residency cycle is Sept. 30. Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts, 724 South 12th St., Omaha, NE 68102; (402) 341-7130. The Schuylkill River Development Council seeks proposals for a series of sitespecific public art projects. Utlizing over a mile-long strectch of the Schuylkill's east bank, artist are asked to respond to historical, ecological or recreational aspects of the site. $500,000 is available for five projects. Deadline Oct. 31. For application information, contact Julie Courtney, Schuykill River Development Council, 2314 South St., Philadelphia, PA 19146; (215) 985-9393; Fax (215) 985-0101. FORECAST'S Public Art Affairs program supports emerging Minnesota artists with both development and implementation funds on an annual basis for projects at sites of their own choosing. Deadline Feb. 28, 1997. For application information or to purchase catalogs from previous year's programs, contact F O R E C A S T Public Artworks, Public Art Affairs program, (612) 641 -1128. The Public Art Fund now seeks proposals from emerging or under-recognized artists

living and/or working in New York state. Their new program, In the Public Realm, provides grants for independent projects. Deadline March, 1997. Call the Public Art Fund for program guidelines, (212) 980-3942.

Barbara Deming Memorial Fund Inc. awards grants up to $1,000. Open to individual feminists in the arts; U.Ss and Canadian citizens. Money for Women, Box 40-1043, Brooklyn, NY 11240-1043.

The Cambridge Arts Council's new Art Plan announces several opportunities. Artists interested in being considered for public art commissions or purchase of work should submit up to 16 slides of recent work, accompanied by a resume, to the Public Art Slide Registry, Cambridge Arts Council, 57 Inman St., Cambridge, MA 02139. For more information, contact Laila Ali, (617) 349-4380.

Pollock-Krasner Foundation offers financial assistance for artists of merit and financial need. Open to painters, sculptors, installation artists. To obtain guidelines, call the Pollock-Krasner Foundation, 725 Park Ave., New York, NY 10021.

The Visual Artists Information Hotline is now available on ArtsUSA, the online service of American Council for the Arts (ACA). Visitors to the site can view and download fact sheets on a variety of topics of interest, including public art programs, publications for artists, leagal assistance, emergency funds, etc. Unfortunately, ACA suspended the Hotline service in August. For a listing of alternative ways to receive hotline info, call the ACA, (212) 223-2787 ext. 223. Internet users can visit the ArtsUSA website at http://www.artsusa.org An Outdoor Sculpture Garden is now accepting proposals for 1996-97. All media are welcome. Send slides, resume and SASE: 621 Gallery, 621 Industrial Dr., Tallahassee, FL 32310; (904) 224-6163. Spirit Square Center for the Arts is accepting proposals for installation and finished 2D and 3D work. Send slides and SASE: Aida, SSCA, 345 N. College St., Charlotte, NC 28202. Network Eventworks, year-round events on Eventworks interactive homepage. Submit proposals to: http://www.tiac.net/users/zone/ eventworks State of Florida Art in State Buildings Program. Contact about opportunities: Art in State Buildings, CREOL, c/o Francis Martin, University of Central Florida, Art Dept, VAB 117, PO Box 161345, Orlando, FL 32816; (407) 823-5941. Chicago Public Art Program. Send SASE for info on Artists' Slide Registry: Public Art Program, Dept of Cultural Affairs, 78 E. Washington, Chicago, IL 60602. Transaxis, a rotating outdoor exhibition program, seeks slides of pre-existing large scale sculpture. Contact TransAxis, Evanston Arts Council, 927 Noyes St., Evanston, IL 60201. Minnesota State Arts Board Percent-ForArt Registry accepts slides twice annually. Artists are encouraged to send slides and update entries regularly. No returns. Contact for application form: MSAB Percent-for-Art Registry, Park Square Court, 400 Sibley St., Suite 200, St. Paul, MN 55101-1928; (612) 215-1600 or (800) 8MN-ARTS. Vermont Studio Center offers two-week to 12-week residencies and fellowships. Contact the Vermont Studio Center, Box 613, Johnson, VT 05656; (802) 635-2727.

Artists Fellowship Inc. offers funds for artists experiencing serious illness, crisis or bereavement. Send an SASE to Artists Fellowship, Inc., Emergency Aid, c/o Salmagundi Club, 47 Fifth Ave., New York, NY 10003. Wurlitzer Foundation offers three to sixmonth residencies. Open to writers, painters, sculptors, composers, choreographers. Helene Wurlitzer Foundation, PO Box 545, Taos, NM 87571; (505)758-2413. Elizabeth Greensbields Foundation grants $10,000 to young international artists under the age of 30. Open to painters, sculptors, printmakers. Contact: Elizabeth Greenshields Foundation, 1814 Sherbrooke St. W., Montreal, QC, Canada. NEA International Program coordinates two-month residencies in Canada or Mexico, and six-month fellowships in Japan. Open to architects, creative writers, designers, media artists, visual artists and others. Write for guidelines: The Intl Program, NEA, 1100 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, DC 20506; (202) 682-5422. New York Mills Art Retreat offers twoweek to eight-week residencies. Living and studio space plus $200 stipend in exchange for five hours/week of community arts participation. New York Mills Art Retreat, RR1, Box 217, New York Mills, MN 56567; (218) 385-3339. 1996-97 National and International Studio Program. Send SASE for application: Institute for Contemporary Art, 46-01 21st St., Long Island City, NY 11101. The Guild offers free listings in the Architect's Sourcebook to artists who have completed public art works of substantial scale. Call (800) 969-1556 for information about The Guild's Register of Public Art. The International Sculpture Center is updating Sculpture Source, the computerized slide registry and referral service for ISC members. To register or renew with Sculpture Source, artists should send slides, resumes and support materials to: Sculpture Source, ISC, 1050 17th St. NW, Suite 250, Washington, DC 20036; (202) 785-1144. The Atlanta College of Art invites artists to join the Georgia Artists Registry, a referral service for Georgia artists. For information contact Anne Cox, The Georgia Artists Registry, Atlanta College of Art, 1280 Peachtree St. NE, Atlanta, GA 30309; (404) 733-5025.


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