Who are the audiences for college and university museums? During discussions on the trip, some expressed the opinion that the Tang seemed to be more artistically open and integrated into to the campus and local community, while Bard seemed to be more like a high-powered contemporary art museum that could be found outside an academic community just as readily as inside it. Do you agree? As an artist did one approach resonate more for you? Where would you prefer to show your work and why? Which of the two curatorial approaches did you find more artist-centered?
Daniel Heyman: Now here is something I feel I can relate to as I often show in college and university galleries, and spend a lot of time talking to curators and groups of students at colleges and universities. University galleries address both the academic needs of their institutions, as well as the broader community. The Tang was a perfect example, with several shows, each curated with a different purpose in mind. The Hudson show was a “curators” show, where the museum curators worked with faculty to develop themes through selection and placement of objects that could be contemplated from a wide variety of view points – historical, art historical, social, environmental, etc., -- being a perfect kind of pedagogic tome. Though I was not too interested in the show, there was enough in it for me to ponder and reflect upon that was new and interesting either in the kind of objects presented or in the context in which they were exhibited, or through the accompanying text that brought together various ideas around those objects. I was more interested in the single artist shows on the top floor, Nicole Eiseman in particular, a much more traditional exhibit that was deferential to an artist in that the ideas presented came directly from the art work, and not in its placement or the placement of other unrelated works in close proximity. Both approaches seemed to be interesting enough for all audiences, whether viewers considered themselves “high-powered” in the know art goers or not. The Bard exhibition spaces also had a variety of shows, one major space devoted to a single artist’s work, other spaces with works placed in group show environments, and that central gallery that seemed to be a presentation of a curator’s take on the collection. I found these exhibits less interesting not because of how the work was exhibited, but because I was not particularly interested in the particular works exhibited. The idea that the Bard shows were of a more general or worldly nature is a notion that seems to reflect the navel gazing of the contemporary art community and its focus on what’s new and what’s hot. The Bard shows certainly seemed trendier than those at the Tang, with the line between those in the know and those outside of the loop more clearly delineated. Whether or not this served a purpose other than a place for self congratulation for those in the know I am not sure. For me an art experience involves a kind of inner shudder, good art creates a crack in your mind where a new idea can gather steam. It can happen anywhere where someone has given thought a form. I found it more in front of the Frank Gerry building at Bard than at either of the museums, but that is simply a question of taste.
Curatorial studies programs and the number of students attending them have multiplied dramatically over the past decade. (Since it began its graduate program in curatorial studies in 1994, Bard alone has awarded the M.A. degree to more than 100 students.) How do you imagine artists might work with these curators in the future? Can artists still lead the way in innovating curatorial approaches, as has an artist like Fred Wilson, for example. How can an artistic practice be applied to push a curator beyond their conventional positions?
Ben Peterson: I think on some level I can agree with the feeling that the Tang was more integrated, while Bard seemed more like a "high powered" art museum, but of course some of that feeling rests solely on the architecture of the spaces, Bard having a very contemporary feel to the exhibition spaces, while the Tang seemed smaller and more broken-up (easier to teach multiple groups at once?) Of course, the focus that Bard puts on the artist and his or her art production, versus the Tangs mission to "teach" the art of the artist, or integrate them into a thematic show, leaves me wondering how many artists are good fits for the Tangs program and weather art which resists "teachability" (or readability for that matter) would suffer in the context of the Tangs wider mission. Of the two I think the Tang has the potential to curate far more interesting shows, there is something in the professionalism and "vetted" quality of Bards collection that makes it feel very "safe" even if the work is not (confession: I liked Rachel Harrisons WORK far more than the concept of the exhibition or it's installation, as far as SHOWS go I liked the Tang far better). As for the question of which i would rather show work at........context, context, context.
We often think of art school as “training grounds, places where students can try and fail.” Did you find the Hessel Museum to model an experimental approach for its students? Does this translate to the artist's side of the coin? Bard has recently hired highly renowned curators in the form of Tom Eccles and Maria Lind, whom ambitious students want to work and learn from. Is this how interesting art schools are built as well, through an all-star faculty?
Ben Peterson: Having spent a few days working in the Hessel Museum, I have to say that "experimental" is not the word I would use. "Pedagogical" might be closer to the truth, because while the art is radical (often in intent and execution) the display, and perceived "permiability(sp)" of the museum itself leaves something to be desired. Are star artists and curators the way to make an interesting school, sadly..... probably.....yes....you can't build a good team with lousy players, and I would rather have had Mike Kelly for a prof. than Hans Hoffman....I feel sad even writing that...where was my Black Mountain College?
Thinking specifically of Mass MoCA’s massive Building 5 Gallery, which is the size of a football field, can so much space be intimidating to an artist? That space aside, the museum contains a number of large galleries that can swallow-up smaller works. Do you, personally, find such raw, cavernous warehouse galleries to be stimulating to your own way of thinking about making and showing your work or simply overwhelming?
Daniel Heyman: I have visited the Building 5 Gallery three times now, so being asked this question as an artist certainly interests me. Like everything else in this country, art was super-sized over the last number of years, as if it was a natural progression. It’s not. Good art carries its weight whatever its size because the form and the content illuminate thought. The idea is large, the work can be of any size. Elephants are always impressive, and so the space (and probably most objects in that space) will always be impressive, but this doesn’t make it great art. Fireworks over central park, man-made water falls ringing Manhattan, big highly polished steal “atoms” at Mass MOCA, blown up photos, acres of paintings, none of it means much unless the art experience trumps the size experience. I don’t find the space intimidating because I can’t imagine I would ever be interested in doing something in that kind of space. Moreover, there is certainly room for a multitude of art experiences in the world, but the available funds are short, and it irks me when hundreds of thousands of dollars are spent to put school busses or ranch homes into a space such as Gallery 5 when there is so little funding available for the making of art works in general. America is obsessed with size; I wish it was more obsessed with the quality of experience. But what of the artist whose work is made in the solitude of a small studio – without the flash of production assistants an ocean away. I am not sure that this kind of work, the kind that I do, has a place in the large raw spaces of places such as Gallery 5. To answer your question, I don’t think these kinds of cavernous spaces are good for work such as mine, even though I think they are glorious in themselves. They don’t intimidate me because I can’t imagine working in them. Maybe one day I will be invited to do so, and then I will be intimidated. Ben Peterson: For the last question...both, neither, and maybe. Have Mass Mocha give me a call, we'll set up a show, and I'll blog about my feelings, all the while being secretly thrilled to even have the chance.
No comments:
Post a Comment