Capacities Worksheet

Reflecting on the capacities worksheet, I seem to notice a trend emerging which would indicate that my strongest capacities are rooted in the conceptual and/or "thinking" part of the creative process. Creating meaning, connecting diverse disciplines, generating multiple rich ideas, and developing a sense of purpose rank high on the list and describe the part of the process I find most thrilling.  Where I seem to slump is in the doing bit.  Sketching and journaling, exploring mark making systems,working off of mistakes, persevering, and generally taking action, the daily grind, so to speak, seems to be where I usually get hung up.  If I can somehow power through, either because the inertia of the initial idea is powerful enough or because of the threat of deadlines and repercussions, I return again to a thinking capacity, in which I'm rather strong, in the reflecting and assessing part of the process.

In light of this overall pattern it's difficult to choose just one capacity upon which to reflect, but let that be a testament to my aptitude for synthesis and connecting diverse disciplines.  According to my worldview nothing exists in isolation and the most important way to understand something is to place it in relationship to everything else.  I probably find myself interested in art because it is the one discipline which isn't intrinsically  self limiting.  The arts encompass and bind together all of human experience.  I can explore and discover anything through art as well as highlight little known or never before considered relationships through the power of metaphor.  For example, the pieces I'm making in this class are meant to do more than just exemplify diverse cultural archetypes of "the witch".  They also represent our relationship with nature - our own hubris and relative insecurity which fuels an obsessive desire to tame that which is inherently wild and untameable, and our conflicted fear and fascination, wonder and disgust at the powerful mysteries of the natural world and the unknown.  The witch embodies this confliction.  Her history is a representation of it.  It's impossible for me to separate these works of art from the history, culture, and reality that surrounds them.

The capacities in which I think I could make the most progress go somewhat hand in hand.  I would really like to develop consistent sketching/journaling habits and, in the process, spend some time exploring mark making systems.  Some people seem naturally inclined to draw their ideas or sketch to accompany or elaborate their thoughts.  For me, on the other hand, drawing is a challenge rather than something I enjoy or rely upon for communication or notation of ideas.   I'm looking forward to taking Michelle Livik's class next semester and hopefully acquiring some new techniques for utilizing a visual journal and disciplining myself to stick with it.  

Time

Lawrence seems to think about time in terms of linear events and intersections.  She looks at the way objects in her life denote points in time, accumulating into a continuum.  Junk mail becomes a unit of measurement

I have always been fascinated by the idea that time is not linear, but perhaps that all points in time and all possible sequences of events are just mashed together 3 dimensionally, or perhaps in some form of dimensionality that we can't fully understand.  I like to think about significant events in time being very "saturated".  If reality is arranged like pages in a book, events that happen can "bleed through", leaving a ghostly impression on the past and the future. 

Personal as Political

Our text describes the personal as political as a movement closely link with feminist ideation, which describes how personal experiences such as gender, race, and sexual orientation have entered into the political and artistic conversation.

I see a distinct correlation between this concept and the ideas behind the witches I am creating. There are certainly feminist issues present, but the witch is also an enigmatic, confusing concept. Culturally and historically speaking, witches, as a group, are poorly understood and underrepresented, especially in western culture. Bringing their struggles to light illuminates how political and cultural attitudes have affected the circumstances independently minded women, minority spiritualists, and indigenous cultures around the world throughout history.

As a female artist, it's difficult to separate the female experience entirely from my work. What other experience do I have? Perhaps that question itself would be an interesting exploration. Artist Nikki Lee, for example, immerses herself in various subcultures, embodies that experience, and then creates Sherman-like self portraits of her new identity and community. (http://www.tonkonow.com/lee.html)

Protest

Protest art is simultaneously the antithesis of propaganda and a form of propaganda in it's own right, depending on how you look at it, and perhaps, what side of the issue you are on. Art often touches on social issues, inequality, and injustice, but in my mind, in order to really qualify as “protest art”, some perpetrator of injustice must be implicated.

The witch series I'm working on, for example, bears themes regarding gender, religious, and culteral inequality, but doesn't really point the finger at any particular purveyor of oppression. In order to do that, I think I would have to take it further somehow and give it a more contemporary context. Perhaps an instillation which juxtaposes images of ordinary women and asks the viewer to somehow label which one is a witch. This kind of thing could be expanded to include a multitude of cultural and ideological labels which dangerously rub shoulders with stereotypes including race, socio-economic status, sexual orientation, subculture, etc. Still, protest art needs to point the finger at someone or something. Maybe that someone is ourselves.

Feedback wanted

A sketch idea for witch number 2.  I don't really know where this is going yet.  I was picturing her a bit like a seductive gypsy draped in jewels, as seduction is the enchanting power that makes all women witches in a way, but maybe she wants to be more tribal.  I'd love to hear some thoughts.  I also included some images I found on the internet that were kind-of guiding my inspiration.

Icon

An icon is a symbolic representation, often imbued with a powerful spiritual or ideological significance. Icons themselves can easily become objects of worship, rivaling, even superseding the immaterial ideal which are meant to represent.

I'm interested in the idea of adding significance to a commonplace object or figure through the process of transformation. When I think of the gilded Byzantine mosaics I'm reminded of the deep and prolonged meditative process involved with such a tedious, but stunning assemblage. I think it might be interesting to take kitschy, mass-produced objects that are not really special in any particular way and elevate them to iconic status by covering them with beads or intricately painted patterns. The same thing might be done with thrift store prints of corny or trite images. For me, it is the process of transformation that makes the finished product a sacred object of reverence.

Concentration #1

Artist Statement

This piece entitled “Consult the Bones” is the first in a series which explores the enigmatic and shape shifting archetype of the witch. Witches, shamans, oracles, and magical healers persist across cultures and throughout human history. They have been venerated, respected, feared, and reviled; unspeakably persecuted and turned to in desperation by those very figures who would otherwise see them burn at the stake. The witch has many faces, but she is consistently one thing – a woman of wisdom, mystery, and power. She is a wild, untameable spirit. She is, irreducibly, a strong woman.

Barefoot, naked, close to the earth, “Bones” peers up unflinchingly at the viewer, but her expression betrays her mistrust. She has secrets we desperately want to know, but she seems ready to flee. Wiley and ageless, she is a fleeting apparition, like a rare animal in the forest who refuses to be caught.

Our relationship to the witch, much like our dynamic with nature, is complex, conflicted, and deeply imbedded in our cultural and biological psyche; a mix of awe, fascination, vulnerability, and a stubborn, sometimes violent defiance of her persistence and power. The more we try to rationalize, reduce, and intellectualize her, the more the spirit of the thing seems to slip through our fingers.

Body as Medium

The use of the body as medium, be it a residual mark or impression of the form or the actual sacrifice of tissues, connotes our human presence, our physical being in a particular time and space. It evokes, almost subconsciously, a visceral connection which transcends time and cultures to touch one of our most basic commonalities - our experience of a physical body.  Bird describes this as a sense of "timeless immediacy" and I'm reminded of the 60's mantra "Be Here Now".  Some years ago, while on an academic trip to Santa Fe, I had the opportunity visit some ancient Native American petrogyphs, so far out in the middle of the desert that no roads go there.  As I stood in front of these ancient markings and traced my hands over the surface of the rocks, I felt a rope being cast across the void of thousands of years of human history.  Some one had stood in this very place, on a day just like that day, and made marks on the rocks.  Our hands were the same size, same shape.  The same sun beat down on their skin.  The same dust blew into their hair and soiled their feet. I thought about all the billions of people who had lived out their lives before me in very different times and places, and yet we share so many of the same sensations; and how those marks made by one person (or a handful perhaps) can reach out across time.  Art that reminds us of the body, of its nature, even in uncomfortable ways, can elicit this kind of profound connection.

As much as body as medium speaks of universal experience and connection, it also speaks of individual identity.  My body is my own and no one else's.  It is the outward and physical manifestation of who I am.  I have often thought of using my own hair as a medium, as it is one of the more distinct features of my appearance and has thus become ingrained with my identity.  In exploring shamanic and magic ritual, it has come to my attention that the use of bodily tissues and excretions has powerful symbolic value.  It binds the practitioner and/or subject of the ritual physically to the intention.  In the same way, an artist binds themselves to the work and its meaning by literally giving themselves to it.  I could see myself incorporating this kind of thing into mixed media work, but admittedly, some of this stuff just gets a little gross, so I would probably be limited to dry, odorless materials like hair, teeth, bones and such.  No blood, or some of the even more unmentionable things that I can think of.

In works of clay, I like to see a little imperfection so that you can still see the impression of the artist's fingers having moved it.  This is something I might like to master, but it involves overcoming a mild case of OCD. Again, I think this elicits a special kind of connection between the artist and viewer, especially when you can feel those impressions with your own fingers on the surface of the work.

Anatomy

For the artist, the study of anatomy has practical value in our efforts to portray convincing and compelling depictions of organic figures, but the study of the body itself has metaphorical connotations as well, such as "peeling back the surface to discover what lies beneath" and "the universal commonality and scientific 'factualness' of our mortal form".

Because I like to work with organic forms and the human figure, anatomical understanding is clearly important.  Attempting to sculpt these forms forces me to attend to the anatomical details and can teaches me a great deal about careful observation.  I am ever in pursuit of increasing my anatomical attention because I am keen to be able to exaggerate features and alter the form to fantastic effect, yet in lifelike and convincing ways.  I think this enables the artist to articulate meaning and identity more poignantly.

Learning to depict the anatomy is about careful observation, study, and practice.  Perhaps I could try to focus on just one area, say the collarbone and shoulders for example, and draw that over and over from different points of view until I was quite comfortable with it and the relationships that it has with other parts of the body.  Understanding these relationships is what will enable me to create the kind of exaggeration I desire.

Body as Surface

In this segment, Bird introduces us to the ancient historical tradition of marking the body with paint, jewels, tattoos, and even scaring.  I find it interesting that this practice may have it's roots in the branding of slaves and prisoners, as well as spiritual ritual and cultural traditions.   Today, tattooing and other forms of body modification could be seen as a mix of both historical influences, bearing strong connotations of status, values and opinions, group affiliations, and general signification of identity; in other words, a sort of self-branding, indicating who you are and what formal or ideological groups you belong to.

I hadn't really considered it before, but I could see this concept having a lot of application in my work, which is concerned with ritual and spiritual significance.  Depicting witches or shamans adorned in ritual paint is not a stretch to imagine, but perhaps these patterns could provide an additional layer of expression through which I can articulate her meaning or identity.  Technically, it may not be "using the body as surface", but taking my inspiration from that artistic tradition, I could also envision applying tattoo-like ornamentation to other objects, both in 2-D and 3-D mediums, in order to imbue them with both visual and spiritual significance.

Facilitating Engagement with the Art Making Process

A big thanks goes out this week to Michelle Ridlen, for always posting such insightful material and connections on the MU Grad House Facebook page.  As a result, I came across a fantastic article entitled "When Checking out is Checking In" which speaks directly to this week's topic of facilitating engagement with materials and process.  It's written by David Rufo, a fourth grade classroom teacher who noticed that when some of his more easily distracted students got off task and were not attending to assigned work, "disengaged" was not exactly the adjective he would use to describe them.  In fact, he found that these students were often VERY engaged in a variety of creative processes that yielded significant discoveries and inspiring results.
(if the above link isn't working, try this http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/david-rufo)
One of my many ponderings on this week's topic had to do with how we make time for and facilitate play and experimentation without creating chaos in the classroom.  I'm a little disappointed that in all of my field experiences so far, (all of them in the elementary setting) I haven't seen much emphasis placed on creating opportunities for play.  I think it must feel like a big risk for many teachers, particularly from a classroom management standpoint, to allow students the freedom to explore, but I do believe this exploration can take place in an orderly, productive, and even elegant manner if planned correctly.  For example, a few weeks ago a group of 5th graders in my field classroom were experiencing a lesson on making paper.  When the students came in, the paper pulp that they would use was already mixed and added to tubs of water, ready for the students to take their turn pulling a sheet.  They had a choice of three different colors and they came to the station in groups of two or three, dipping their screen into their chosen tub and lifting out a sheet.  This was the extent of their involvement with the material.  In the beginning of the lesson, the teacher did pass around a wide variety of handmade papers containing everything from wire to string to fish scales...different weights, colors, textures, etc.  But why couldn't the students make some decisions about what their paper would be like for themselves?  I would have liked to see tubs of different types of materials that the students could choose to incorporate; leaves, fibers, bits of rubbish, different scraps recyclable paper such as newsprint, construction paper, whatever you can think of.  Perhaps students could work together in table groups to choose from these materials and design their own paper, thinking about what different materials might represent metaphorically, how they will interact together, and what kind of overall tactile and visual aesthetic they want their paper to have.  The teacher could still then take it upon his/herself to prepare the student selected  materials ahead of time so that the paper would be ready to pull next class.  Students could then pull multiple sheets of a paper THEY had designed.  Each table would have a unique product, and students could trade around in order to have a variety of papers to work with in creating the next step of the project (perhaps a print or collage).  The students I saw were fascinated with the tactile sensation of the pulp.  They clamored to dig their hands in, but most were refused.  Several were eager to go home and try it for themselves and even espoused creative ideas about how to alter the process as they lined up to leave.  Why not have that discussion right there in the classroom?  Limited time, of course, is the most frequently cited obstacle, but I ping Mary Franco by saying, meaningful work takes time.  Perhaps students don't need to make a finished product EVERY class period.  Taking the time to engage in orchestrated play presents even more opportunities to cover those curriculum goals and academic standards in an organic and meaningful way, rather than just jamming them into prescribed activities.  

In summary, perhaps my naivety and inexperience is showing, but I believe we can embrace creative exploration and play in our curriculum and if we attune ourselves properly to our students, we can capitalize on teachable moments, even when students seem to be "checked out".

Chance

Bird's description of chance introduces us to the concept of the artist relinquishing a certain amount of control; of letting extraneous forces, the inherent characteristics of the medium, and the unconscious mind to enter into and impact the work.  This speaks volumes to the philosophy, particularly prevalent in art education, that there is as much, if not sometimes more, value in the process as in the final product.  As it turns out, viewers tend to be fascinated by work that allows them to enter into the artist's process, and in the postmodern milieu, the processes the artist used and the experiences he/she underwent therein, are often the key to the most profound understanding of a piece or body of work.

I'm digressing a little, but I was particularly struck by the connection Bird drew between total artistic control in the pursuit of an ideal, and cultural vanity and hubris.  He quotes Hans Arp as saying "Since the cave age, man has glorified himself...and with his monstrous vanity provoked human catastrophes.  Art has been the collaborator of man's false development".  This spoke to me of the  dualistic mindset, historically endemic to patriarchal western culture; that the world is comprised of good and evil, us and them, man and nature, and artistic conventions that define what is correct and incorrect; that art, like the world, is something to be conquered rather than experienced.  The catastrophic wars of the earlier half of the twentieth century left many people questioning this worldview.  The realization that the world exists and creates, that beauty exists and abounds, with or without our intervention, is a profound and humbling one, especially for the artist, who must then reevaluate their role, acknowledging that perhaps they are just the medium through which truth and the nature of things is re-presented to the world.

I long for this kind of authenticity in my work, though it is a constant struggle against my dominant left brain tendencies.  Incorporating this into my work would probably require the implementation of exercises that would force me to relinquish control, which is a bit of a contradiction, I know.  Exercises like working off of mistakes and using media like fumage (smoke) or the ever popular coffee could help me to see the beauty that emerges inherently from within the media and/or my own kinesthetic impulses.  Perhaps destroying my work, at least to a degree, or creating work that is impermanent would help me to let go.  Sometimes creating constraints, parameters, or systems for oneself can force you outside your comfort zone, accepting the results that come rather than pursuing a predetermined outcome.  And if all else fails, remember to play, play, play.

Whiteness

As Bird indicates in today's reading, "whiteness" has been utilized by artists throughout the ages both for its symbolic value and aesthetic characteristics.  As such, naturally white materials such as ivory and marble, prized as artistic mediums,  have become synonymous with classical and/or "high" art in the collective cultural consciousness.

It's difficult for me to hypothesize about how I might use whiteness in my work because, well, I already do....perhaps excessively.  For me, whiteness reveals.  It removes distraction.  There is a serenity to white that I just love to bask in.  Often, when I reach the point where I could add color to a piece, I find that I just can't bring myself to do it, especially if I'm pleased with the form and find it beautiful.  In the absence of color, I find the form so pure, so honest, so naked.  The addition of color just feels, somehow, like covering up.

On the other hand, I am drawn to the use of vivid color and pattern in the work of others, and I would like to dare to go there.  Perhaps there is some fear involved in taking that step.  When I find myself pleased with a form, drawn or sculpted, it's not just my appreciation of it that holds me back.  There's a hesitation to go any further, perhaps for fear of polluting or tainting it somehow.  What I really need to incorporate into my work, more than whiteness, which I am quite comfortable with, is the bravery to boldly embrace color.

Developing a Repertoire of Skills for Visual Perception and Artistic Response

As I was making my way through the Carroll text this week, I couldn't help but notice that our very own Amy Ruopp was cited a number of times.  Intrigued, I looked up her article "Narrative drawing: a study in personal histories" and have chosen it for my reflection.  In this brief aritcle, she provides practical advice for drawing out meaningful narratives from our student's personal experiences and giving them the tools to express them visually.  Through an exploration of Faith Ringgold's rich, illustrative quilt work and a series of scaffolded activities, students are guided through the process of translating large, possibly complicated ideas into one powerful and deeply personal image.

What really interested me about Amy's lesson plan are the carefully scaffolded activities which require students to translate their ideas through different symbols systems several times before they arrive at their final destination. Our text reiterates the value of this practice on p.72, suggesting that such movement across symbol systems helps deepen the richness of ideas as well as reaching both visual and verbal learners.

With this process in mind, I looked to Art21 featured artist Kiki Smith to potentially inspire a lesson steeped in the idea of narrative and myth.  I am personally drawn to Smith and her work, as her repertoire of themes and images share similarities and relationships with my own present inspirations.  In the section on Tapping into the Narrative Impulse, our text suggests "Inventing a story to explain a phenomenon...produc[ing] ideas for a legend or myth". (p. 71)  In the past, deities and supernatural entities have been held responsible for all manner of natural phenomena, and although science has enlightened us greatly on these matters, we still refer to rings of mushrooms as "fairy circles" and associate Zeus with bolts of lightening.  We take pleasure in thinking of the world in such magical and imaginative ways.  I envision students creating a myth complete with supernatural characters to explain a meteorological phenomenon such as a tornado or tsunami.  This might be especially effective if there has been a recent incident of extreme weather.  I would guide students through a process similar to that which Amy presents in which students would first generate ideas, then write descriptively about them.  They would translate these descriptions back into several planning sketches, working collaboratively with their classmates to ensure the effectiveness of their symbolism and proposed composition, before focusing on their final piece, which will be a sculptural statue; a memorial or icon of their "weather deity".  

Students would need to consider how the characteristics and qualities of a certain type of weather might translate into features of characters.  Perhaps the "See, Hear, Feel" exercise might be of use.  One of the more challenging aspects of this project is that students will need to communicate a narrative through a sculptural piece, so they will need to be very thoughtful about their incorporation of action, emotion, and symbols in the form and surface treatment of the sculpture.  To reinforce the connection between text and image and give the students an opportunity to actually include their writing, student's could creatively incorporate the words of their story, perhaps on a scroll held by the figure or on a banner or plaque at it's feet as we have seen with other commemorative sculptures of the past.

Ancient mythology and art history from cultures all across the world, of course, offer no shortage of stories and artistic examples to refer to as we explore this topic.  (The story of the Norse god Thor comes prominently to mind, though the possibilities are practically limitless.)  Mythological stories are often particularly fascinating to children and adolescents, and thoughtfully chosen examples can speak to their personal struggles and concerns in meaningful ways.

Documentary

In a way, the idea of documentary in art is something of a contradiction.  The term 'documentary' leaves us with an impression of objectivity, but by definition, the artist is taking creative liberties and attempting to communicate something through the image.  Yet, art has long been a process of documenting; of trying to capture what has happened, what is true.  Often, artists can 'say more' about what is really going on by drawing connections or conveying the true feeling of a subject or situation for the viewer.

I am personally deeply interested in truth.  In this way I feel that documentary already does influence my work, though in a round-about way.  I always want my artwork to convey the truth as best I know it, or shine light on a truth that others may not have understood.  This is a big part of my work with the witches.  Witches are controversial.  People fear and revile them, but many (myself included) are fascinated by the them.  I want to show the truth about witches as best I know it; as keepers of wisdom and secrets of the earth, as clever, seductive, powerful women who love life, laughter, and exploring the unknown.  I also like the idea of using boring, official documents to tell a story, or to boil down someones life and existence to these remnants.  Documentary could also be interpreted to have connotations of memory and the idea of somehow legitimizing our existence by creating a record of it.  The 'one second life' video we watched today would attest to that.  I love the idea of trying not to alter or subjugate the material, but just really trying to capture it as is and let the story and the meaning emerge organically.

Satire

The concept of Satire enables the artist to point out incongruities between truth and appearances.  It provides a way for us to express the absurdity in things we may take for granted or have just gotten used to.  Satire, irony, and parody are commonplace in today's landscape of youtube videos, memes, and irreverent comedy.  With the democratization of information and access, people can use visual imagery to poke holes in societal assumptions, stereotypes, and pandering, sharing their observations  instantly with the world.  We've even gone so far as to satirize satire and parody parody.  It's boggling, but entertaining none-the-less.

I'm not sure that I really want to use satire in my own work, necessarily, because at this point I find sincerity to be particularly valuable, but I certainly appreciate it's comedic and political potential and the power that it can have to open people's eyes to things.  During Wednesday's conference as I presented some of my ideas regarding my work in this class, we brought up the interesting difference in the connotations associated with witches and shamans.  Does this have something to do with misogyny and a deeply embedded fear of women with power?  Does this linger and seep through even now; even in our conceptions of esoteric icons which have been delegitimized by our society and all but relegated to a place of irrelevance?  It seems odd that we should bother to make a discernment.  It's this kind of absurdity that could certainly be articulated using satire (i.e. perhaps by conflating popular, influential public icons such as Oprah and Dr. Oz with the identities of witches and shamans, examining the differences in the ways they have been scrutinized or glorified in the media), though I doubt that is the direction that I will take with this project.

Expressing Inner States

Expressionism, or the idea of expressing inner states through art, is another step along the path of 20th century art to redefine the role and purpose of art in culture.  Many artists no longer saw it as their responsibility to produce realistic renderings of a subject, but rather, to express something more subjective about the inner nature of the subject and/or the artists feeling towards it.  Numerous artists such as Wassily Kandinsky and Paul Klee, among others, felt that this could be achieved through the expressive character of elements like line, color, and repetition in a piece.

In my own work I feel I have much to learn from this ideology.  I tend to be very meticulous and methodical, even hesitant at times, about making a mark.  I recently witnessed a group of kindergarteners engaged in a lesson relating to Kandinsky's work in which they were asked to listen carefully to classical music and try to paint or draw what the music made them feel or imagine.  The whole experience was very free and kinesthetic, and the little ones produced marks with confidence and glee.  I left the classroom vowing to try this at home.  I think freeing myself to produce expressive marks with no particular purpose in mind might help me to build confidence in my own line.  So I suppose I see the value of this concept more in the context of an exercise in play and the practice of "working loose" as we discussed in class last week.  Taking the time to loosen up this way and allowing myself to respond viscerally to an experience or subject matter nurtures a sort of quality that I imagine I would like to see carry over into all my work and might help me to feel more natural and comfortable with the process.  Perhaps it would be interesting, and a little more challenging, to try an exercise like this not only with music, but with other senses like smell, touch, or even memory.

Duncum's 7 Principles

While reading this article, I was unavoidably reminded of Gude's Postmodern Principles, not only because she is sighted frequently by the author, but because the relationships between her concepts and Duncum's are very clear.  In my view, however, Duncum's 7 Principles primarily give us a guide for viewing, interpreting, and understanding art and visual culture.  In contrast, Gude's Postmodern Principles provide a little more in the way of guiding art making, in part, because I can see how several of her suggestions might be interpreted as something more like elements rather than principles. (Hybridization, Juxtaposition, Appropriation, and Layering, for example)  There are clearly strong relationships between many of the concepts presented by both authors, such as multimodality and hybridity, or recontextualization, interaction of text and image and intertextuality.  This dazzling interrelatedness is succinctly articulated by Gude when she says...

"In true postmodern fashion, these principles are often rhizomatic. They are not a set of discrete entities. The principles overlap and crisscross. The illustrations of professional art and student work that I have given often exemplify more than one principle. That is as it should be. Art examples and projects in school art curricula should not be reductive representations of theoretical principles, but art in all its messy complexity."

Duncum affirms this as he describes the relationships between his own principles, such as ideology and representation.  The two concepts are inseparable, really, because representation "refers to how ideology is presented in visual form".  It is at that very tangent that Duncum identifies a challenging sociological conundrum in the form of stereotypes.  While referring to the myriad of stereotypes presented in Disney cartoons which most of us have grown up with and taken for granted, he states, "Each of these stereotypes draws upon ideological constructions.  While serving a need to gain immediate recognition, each marginalizes because each denies complexity".  I wonder, how can the representations we produce, both with our students and in the visual culture of society at large, better include this necessary complexity?  It is especially challenging when we are attempting to create a singular 2-D work that is intentionally charged with meaning which we hope will be accessible to the viewer.  There is an awfully fine line between relying on shared understandings and false assumptions. 

Shortly after reading this article, I came across the images that I want to share with the class on Wednesday while I was perusing the Barnes and Noble bargain bin.  Although I would not consider these postmodern images, they can certainly be interpreted through the lens of each of the 7 Principles.  Yet, what I find even more interesting is to think about how those interpretations change over time, or depending upon who the viewer is.  They certainly caught my eye and I hope they will stimulate some rich discussion.

The Unconsious

Inspired by Freudian psycho-theory, artists in the early 20th century began examining dreams and the unconscious mind as a repository for repressed human desires and emotions, and a source of new artistic inspiration.  This new and controversial understanding of human psychology led to the surrealist movement in art, influencing numerous other social ideologies and philosophical theories as well.

In the past, I have made my own attempts at keeping a dream journal, as my dreams are often vivid and compelling, hoping to find some kind of common thread or insight therein.  Something like this could be a great source of artistic inspiration if I could find the time and the patience to stick with it.  Perhaps I could devise some sort of free association activity to generate ideas for work. Or perhaps I could actually create a visual diagram of this experiment. This might be particularly interesting to try with students.

Multiple Viewpoints

The concept of multiple viewpoints was primarily explored by the Cubist painters of the early 20th century.  Artists were questioning the linear, single point perspective standard in painting.  Photography had some part to play in all this because many painters no longer felt that the role of their medium was to create a window on the world. Because photography could always do a more efficient job at this, painters were liberated to explore the possibilities of their medium for entirely new purposes.

In my own work, I could use this concept as a way to re-examine my 3 dimensional pieces, perhaps as a personal tool for understanding my work more analytically from different angles, or by trying to create cubist-like optical illusions in the work itself when looked at from different angles.  Perhaps one could interpret the idea of multiple viewpoints both figuratively and literally, portraying a particular subject according to the way different people might see it.  I can imagine the different blocked off planes containing subtle changes to the subject that reflect different attitudes, rather than the object, literally, from different angles.  Or perhaps a sculptural piece that changes  or transforms as you move around it.

Authenticity

Just as with the previous segment on narrative, I feel that the author of our text presented a less conceptual picture of authenticity and its role in art than I might have done.  In doing so, I feel that he may have missed some key points.  I hope it's ok to critically analyze and refute our text, even though, overall, I think it's an awesome book.  I'm going to go ahead and assume all is fair in learning and art.  To begin with, I think the author misinterprets Piero Manzonis work in asserting that one of the major themes in Tin Cans is authenticity.  On the contrary, I would say this work deals much more with ideas of humor, irony, and sarcasm.  The artist is thumbing his nose at the art establishment and the elitist old crones who are willing to buy anything deemed "important art", regardless of the outrageous cost and questionable content.  The artist is not really asking us whether or not we believe there is actually feces inside those cans.  It doesn't really matter.  Rather, he is saying "Hey, I'm an artist.  An artist! Does that mean my shit is worth it's weight in gold?"  It's a joke on many levels; a pun as well as a jab at the attitudes of people, both artists and collectors, who take themselves a bit too seriously.

In terms of my own work and the ideals that I would like to encourage in my students, I value authenticity and honesty even over originality.  Art is not merely an endless pursuit of trying to do something that has never been done before, but an attempt to articulate something genuine and meaningful in an intuitive way.  I am working to be more honest and authentic in my own work by trusting my instincts and making work I really care about.

Narrative

Narrative and/or story in art is an idea that just keeps coming up.  Our text approaches it in a very literal sense, but upon deeper investigation we see that this theme is huge, branching out to touch concepts like identity, memory, empathy, synthesis, pivotal moments, point of view, sensory experience, subjectivity, and so forth.  According to Daniel Pink and other cognitive scientists whom he relies upon in his writings, story, or the narrative form, is actually how we think.  It's how we organize our memories, our experiences, and our predictions for the future.  In my view, art and artifacts of visual culture can scarcely be made that do not create or belong to a story.

It's these more nuanced aspects of story that interest me more than the literal depiction of events in a linear series.  For example, what about cultivating the ability in our students to create liminal space in an image (*ping Kathy), by choosing a particularly pivotal, saturated, or climactic moment (*ping Tiger Team 2) which urges the viewer to fill in the rest of the narrative?  The ability to evoke images in the mind of the viewer pertaining to the events likely to have immediately preceded or follow the incident which is actually being portrayed requires an extremely elevated and sophisticated process of cognition and artistic decision making which I like to call illustrative ability or intelligence.  One artist who comes to mind as a notable example of this talent is Bill Watterson, author of the beloved Calvin and Hobbes comics.  Just look at any of his book covers and you'll see what I mean.  I bring this up only because I was a little disappointed with the very literal examples of narrative provided in our text.  I feel like every time the subject of narrative comes up in an art history book, we yet again have to look at The Tribute Money. This may just be a personal preference, but I feel like I've seen this painting sooo many times, and there are so many other great example out there of ways that story has shaped and impacted the arts.

Globalization

Globalization is a broad concept referring generally to a reduction in national and geographical boundaries as a result of technological advances and sociopolitical and economic shifts.  These sweeping changes in our sociological experience have, needless to say, impacted the arts in ways both discreet and blatantly apparent.  Like postmodern thought, Globalization is about transcending boundaries, appropriating new ideas and symbol systems, and embracing diverse points of view and solutions to creative problems.

In the last few decades especially, technology has made contact with virtually every corner of the globe possible.  It has enabled ideas and media to be shared with such fluency that it's impossible to deny the influence of other cultures on our lives.  We are unavoidably affected by multiple points of view, and furthermore, by the realization that there are many points of view to be considered.  This, of course, is simultaneously subtle and monumental in shaping the contemporary human experience, not to mention our philosophies on art and education.  (For instance, the relatively progressive idea that there may be more than one right answer to any given problem.)  Last, but not least, Globalization has opened up our world so that the visual vocabulary of the entire planet is now at our disposal.  It's a very exciting time to be an artist.

An Article in Support of Visual Culture Studies

The article I chose to refute Michelle Marder Khami's position is this one http://www.nytimes.com/2012/02/13/nyregion/for-poorer-students-an-attempt-to-let-new-experiences-guide-learning.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0 published in the New York Times in February of 2012.  The connection may not be immediately apparent, but I feel like the approach taken by the teacher and administration featured in this article toward language arts and literacy stems from a very similar philosophical ideology to that which produced and advocates visual culture studies.  Also, I just really wanted to share these cool ideas with y'all!

25 More Ideas and Beyond

Wilderness/being feral, in contrast with domestication (there's an interesting ongoing study about the domestication of foxes that I am just fascinated by. Anthropologically, it informs the process of our own "domestication" as human beings, and how and why that may have happened so rapidly in our evolution. Science and Art. Always an awesome combo)
Anger
Control
Evolution
Biological Imperative/Survival
Embellishment
Conversation
Folklore
Attachment
Ambition
Frailty/Fragility
Darkness/the unknown/Fear
Voyeurism
Altruism/philanthropy/cooperation
Effigy/Memorialization
Living in the past
Endurance
Honor/Pride
Infinity
Impossibility
Magic
Human Contact
Persuasion
Homogenization
Gaia
Avatar
'Aliveness'(the ineffable quality of life, the spark, the essence, animating the inanimate, giving life to, creation)
Icon/idol
The body as temple

Conceptual Art

Conceptual art represents a gradual paradigm shift in attitudes regarding the function, value, and role of art and artists.  Conceptualism places ideas which the artist wishes to communicate over the value of the art object itself. 

As arts educators in the 21st century, the notion of concept in art is integral to meaningful art making and educative experiences.  In my own art making, I often struggle with which ought to come first, the meaningful idea and the best laid plans that follow, or if it is better to create intuitively and allow the meaning therein to emerge in the process.  Perhaps the best approach is a synergistic relationship between the two.  However, to me, concept is tantamount to content.  The work contains nothing and has little to no artistic value without the ability to communicate concepts.  Concepts can be as simple and specific as the careful tenderness of deep and committed observation, or as sweeping and obtuse as mortality or identity.  Either way, art must contain thinking and communicate ideas in order to have value.

Series

The segment on series defines the idea as "a group of works...[in which] each work has its own identity while being explicitly linked to other works by the same artist, usually produced around the same time".  What unifies the body of work is conceptual, and often narrative in nature.  While each individual work might be capable of standing on its own, "the whole is greater than the sum of its parts".  Through a series, the artist can present relationships that exist between individual pieces, allowing a connective concept to emerge that subsumes the content of any one piece on its own.

Working in a series might allow me to approach the same subject again and again, pushing me to ask myself, What more can I say about this?  Perhaps a series might be employed to investigate and illustrate transformation of subject, or even the artist and/or viewer.  Through series, we might have the ability to focus the viewers attention on repeated elements or analogous situations, prioritizing specific aspects of the work and therefore changing or diversifying the range of possible meanings.

25 Ideas

Right of Passage
Capturing/Collecting
Holding on/Letting go
Ownership/possession
Motherhood (or lack there-of)
Domestication
Obcession
Spirituality
Covering up (that which isn't good enough on its own)
Legacy
The intersection of organic and mechanical
Opulence/excess
Entitlement
*Despairity
Wisdom vs. Prophecy
Idealization/Romanticization
*Ritual and Worship
*Sarcasm
Re-presenting and Transformation(the maker's mark)
*Facade
*Persona (Constructed identity)
Nesting
Security
Integrity
*Loss

*=inspired by the provided list

Responding to Kamhi and Gude on Visual Culture Studies and Postmodern "New School" Art Education

Michelle Marder Kamhi's article "Rescuing Art from 'Visual Culture Studies'" certainly warrants a response so thorough and impassioned that a mere 500 words or less could not possibly suffice, so I suspect that Wednesday's discussion will be vividly rich and engaging.  For now, let me begin by saying that I find Kamhi's point of view on this subject to be based on so many false assumptions and groundless opinions that I hardly know where to begin.

Kamhi asserts that the study of postmodernism and visual culture have no place in arts education, even going so far as to label their consideration as "dubious" and "insidious", citing the movement's "blatant disregard of the essential differences between works of visual art and other types of cultural artifacts" as her primary objection.  To begin with, it is my view that the study of visual culture does not place disproportionate value on or displace one type of artifact for another.  Rather, we consider the relationship between artifacts that are widely considered "fine arts" and other manifestations of visual culture, highlighting how artists "throughout time and across cultures" have chosen to investigate reoccurring themes, questions, and problems.

She begins by deriding the dangers of a "decoding" focus methodology, asserting with no basis that I can discern, that experiencing "'natural', or depictive and expressive subject matter" does not rely on the decoding process, when, in fact, deciphering and processing any form of  visual imagery does rely on a decoding process, though it may be more subtle and subconscious, as my experiences with VTS will attest.  When we are consciously prompted to ponder why we read a certain expression or seemingly "obvious" depiction in a certain way, we realize that complex processes of decoding are going on at all levels of viewing.  These flawed assumptions about the cognitive process are significant because Kamhi argues that visual culture studies preoccupation with decoding places too much emphasis on "politicized issues that divide society, [such as race, class, gender, and ethnicity], rather than on shared human values and concerns".  She places a higher degree of value on work which she, most subjectively I might add, deems inherently readable and intuitively interpretable. What's even more troubling is that she seems to labor under the delusion that there was some enchanted time in the past in which politicized issues such as those mentioned above were not of great and universal concern and were not explored or discussed through the visual arts.

In an attempt to emphasize her point, she describes Ernesta by Cecilia Beaux, a 19th century painting of a "small child grasping the sturdy hand of a nursemaid".  She laments the accompanying museum text which calls into focus the marginalization of nannies in the cultural conditions of that time and neglects to focus the discussion on nurturing, security, and  the innocent dependence of children, which she deems more implicit, universal themes.  My initial response to this example is that we want students to look deeper and consider subtexts of a work that may be present just beneath the surface.  Certainly, any uneducated viewer could glance at the painting and apprehend the emotive qualities described by the author, but when the educated viewer considers the cultural context provided by the museum resources, we see that there are multiple layers of interpretation and meaning to be extracted.  By creating a palpable sense of a nurturing, loving bond, and trust between the nanny and child subject, we are that much more emotionally compelled when we consider the plight of the nanny, a paid employee, having no natural rights to the future of this precious child that she has invested so much of herself in.  It seems that Kamhi would advise us not to push beyond our initial surface reading and concern ourselves only with what is immediately apparent on the canvas.  The application of this ideology, from an educational standpoint, is utterly lost on me, especially if we mean to use art as a tool for deeper thinking and ongoing investigation of subjects that go far beyond the formal borders of art itself.

Gude's ideas in “New School Art Styles”on the other hand, reflect a distinct valuation of art activities that support inquiry and investigation which can transfer across subject boundaries and outside of the school environment as skills and knowledge with broad application. She states, “quality art projects ought to enable students to reframe experiences, thus supporting students in individually and collaboratively finding out something new about a subject. Such new insights cannot be summarized in simple language, but instead become vivid constellations that remain in the consciousness of the artist and the viewers. Good art – and good art projects – transform the way in which we understand and process life experiences.
Artists, both historical and contemporary, explore universal themes of human experience through the lens of their own contemporary encounters and cultural assumptions, struggles, foibles, and transformations.  Post modern artists are working with the themes of race, gender, consumerism, environmentalism, social media, persuasion, etc., not instead of "themes of great and universal importance", but because those are the "themes that are of great and universal importance" to people in society now.  These issues are inextricably bound up with traditional, universal themes such as the horrors of war, identity, and honor which Kamhi deems worthy of study.  How can you separate the horrors of war from ideas about power and, quite often, distinctions of race and religion, as they are and have been so often used to incite fear, outrage, and dehumanization of the other?  How can we separate gender from themes of identity and class from pride, struggle, and honor?  How can we separate environmentalism and consumerism from the universal and timeless experiences of empathy, awe, and love of nature and mankind?  We examine the relationship between these universal themes and their manifestations in our own experiences and the culture in which we live.  This is as true in "traditional", historical art as it is today.  What endures, perhaps, are the universal themes, even after the specific context of a work may become lost on us or obsolete, but contemporary contexts are the medium through which we express ideas about the human condition.  Kamhi displays a grossly oversimplified understanding of historical art by asserting otherwise.

In light of Kamhi's attitude toward postmodernism, it seems appropriate to ask, does not rock and roll have as much to teach us about the power of music as Mozart?  Does it not express the collective experience of an entire generation alienated from its fore-bearers by rapid and sweeping sociological change?  Is this not a theme worthy of investigation? Apparently not.

Kamhi's own definitions of art and her description of the creative process only serve to undermine her point of view entirely.  She states "an artwork is long term and metaphysical in it's focus.  It reflects what the artist regards as important in human life or in his conception of the divine or supernatural realm.  In some measure, every artist is engaged, albeit most often subconsciously, with such questions as, What aspects of human experience do I regard as important?  What is worth remembering?  What do I value or abhor?  Finally, during the creative process, an artist is concerned first and foremost with getting the work right in his own judgement.  Though he may refer to such things as aiming to please God or the gods the work is nonetheless governed by his own conception of what will best achieve that end.  At every stage of the work the implicit question is, Does this 'say' what I think it should?"  All of this being true, she seems oblivious to the fact that pop culture is what's important to people today.  And if an artist wishes their work, concerned with and influenced by pop culture, to "say what [they] think it should", should they not use the materials and visual elements of that culture?  (i.e.  if a work or series of work is about consumerism or mass production, doesn't artwork that employs ready-made objects or is highly reproducible seem appropriate?)

She goes on to discuss the discrediting relationship between commercial artists and clients, completely ignoring the historical precedent of patronage and commission which dominated artist's choice of subject matter, medium, and acceptable modes of expression for the overwhelming majority of human history.  Michelangelo didn't paint the Sistine Chapel for fun, or even for an inspired sense of religious passion.  He was paid to paint the religious themes and iconography that his patrons, the church, demanded.  In fact, their ideas about artistic license were often at odds.  Modernism and postmodernism are, in fact, exercises in the new found liberty of artists to create authentic work of their own volition for the first time in most of recorded history.  Furthermore, rather hypocritically, she continues to cite personal engagement on the part of the artist as a qualifier for educationally valuable art, but does not seem to wholly acknowledge the very impersonal relationship many historical masters had to their works.  One obvious example which comes to mind is the art of portraiture, a very businesslike arrangement in which skilled artisan depicts patron according to his or her specific wishes.  She admits that many famous artists produced works like these, but holds that they lack the compelling qualities of works which were clearly the result of great personal investment.  While this may be true, I think we would still regard the less passionate or charming examples of any renown artist's work, as, in fact, still being qualifiable as art and potentially worthy of study.

The inconsistancies, inaccuracies, and false assumptions contained within this article are almost too overwhelming for me to tackle. Embracing Kamhi's philosophy would essentially mean ignoring the entirety of the 20^th century. Should we let our students proceed in ignorance of these artistic movements and their implications within our culture, even if we are not personally moved by the work?

Kamhi's essay leaves the reader with a sense of moving backward, rather than looking to the future. She seems uncomfortable with the uncertainty and ambiguity we discussed in last week's class that inevitably comes with giving students creative freedom and going into uncharted territory. As Gude states, “Asserting that students must recapitulate the history of art in their studies before understanding and making contemporary art is as discreditable as believing that students must learn outmoded conceptions of biology or physics before being introduced to the range of widely accepted contemporary theories”.

Creating postmodern curriculum which successfully embraces the past involves getting at the heart of the underlying concerns and artistic questions that drove artists to develop new techniques and forge new paths, and finding new and original ways to continue that investigation as it is relevant to present individual and collective experience. Doing so requires that we understand as deeply as possible the motivations and methodologies employed by artists and that we build our curriculum around those concepts, rather than the surface appearance of the final product.