it's been a while

I haven't written on my blog for a while for good reason -- I've been busy working! Working in a museum environment again (even as "just" an intern) has been a much needed break from the often solitary confinement of academia. There were days during the semester when I didn't emerge from my apartment until 5PM. You get caught up in your own world of thoughts, ideas, and arguments (as one of the Whitney education staffers told me today -- she just finished her dissertation a few days ago, so she knows what she's talking about).

So what is it about the museum world that I keep going back to? Am I being pragmatic? Uncreative? Falling back into old habits or leaping forward into the unknown. Working this summer at the Whitney, I can say a little of both. On the jumping forward side, I would say that I have definitely learned how to take more initiative, particularly when it comes to the type of work that I want to do. Of course, I had the computer data base project (which actually I enjoy), but I also did some real writing and research. On top of that, I made a documentary about museum security guards and also co-taught two school group tours. For the first time, I felt like I could take the reigns of my internship and I'm not sure if I should wholly attribute that to my newfound sense of scholarly and professional aptitude or the openness of my supervisor. Probably a little of both. Living in New York was also a leap in the right direction. So much of the contemporary art world that I have learned about finds deep roots in New York. I felt chills walking down Greene Street, knowing that Gordon Matta-Clark himself had graced these same blocks.

Then there is the falling backward. Hanging out with undergrads is fabulous -- especially those in the education and library depts. They're fun, entertaining, sweet, and hilarious! I really couldn't have asked for a better group. And of course my "falling back" is not attributed to them. In terms of falling back, I mean reverting to my old gossipy ways, watching too much TV, and dancing till 3AM. Not all of this is bad, except when you get caught up in the battle between the education and curatorial interns, judging people based on nothing more than their clothes, and hanging out in your informal click.

Overall, I can say that I really tried to make the most out of my time here at the Whitney. It's an amazing institution and one that I hope to keep in touch with in the future. .

museum security guards as informal educators

In collaboration with the Youth Insights program at the Whitney and my fellow graduate intern, Melanie, I have begun filming the documentary for the website. I am beyond excited about the results - we've got some really great stuff on tape. So far, we have interviewed two museum security guards with fascinating stories. We have five section that we are asking them about: personal history/background, day-to-day operations, interactions (with visitors, museum depts, other guards), comparison to other museums, and expertise in art and art history. So far, we've interviewed one man who has been a security guard at the Whitney for 28 years and is going to give us his own personal tour of the collection tomorrow at 4:30PM. He's originally from Trinidad and if he could have any position in the museum, he'd be a docent. We've interviewed another guy who's been here for 19 years and LOVES the collection -- I mean, he's the most passionate man I've met at the museum. He's been mistaken for Adam Weinberg (the director of the museum) and if he could work in the museum in another position, he'd be in visitor services. He took some paintings and art history courses, but says that he learned the most about art from working here every day. He calls the Whitney his second home.

Basically, what I've realized so far is that (1) these guys are very passionate about the museum and (2) they act as informal educators in the museum. They love sharing their opinion with the visitors (while doing their job of protecting the art, of course). They have access to an institutional history that few of the curators or administrators may have. They are undervalued and their wealth of information is rarely accessed.

I have learned so much so far and been totally inspired. I have also realized that our intern "Thursday Seminars" (where we meet with different people who work in the museum) neglect these security guards -- we don't even talk to head of security! I've also realized that the gender ratio is totally opposite of the employees in the museum: 90% men, 10% women.

We continue filming tomorrow and I can't wait to learn more.

narrative

Saturday night at the American Ballet Theater's performance of Giselle, I had this strange realization. Sitting patiently in Lincoln Center for the performance to begin, I was reading the description of the ballet when it donned on me -- I know EXACTLY what is going to happen! For some reason it had not occurred to me previously that the handouts they give you in ballets and operas disclose the entire story, in effect removing any sense of surprise or shock from the narrative. The point, I suppose, is so that you can understand the gestures and some of the actions without taking away too much attention from the amazing acrobatic feats of the graceful dancers. At times, the story stops completely and you are watching a series of impossible leaps, twirls, and lifts. It's all really breath-taking.

But then I got to wonder about how this full-disclosure of all narrative elements differs from films and other forms of visual art. I guess this type of non-sensical interruption happens in musicals, where the narrative stops and suddenly a full-on dance number is performed. But even then, the song might either advance the narrative or comment on the situation at hand. Other films certainly reject this idea of telling the story and in fact rely on the excitement of the unknown.

Now I'm trying to think about painting and sculpture -- arts that aren't traditionally "durational," even though scholars love to theorize about the temporal aspects of painting and sculpture. Was it Clement Greenberg who juxtaposed theater and visual arts? I'm not sure -- someone important certainly faulted Minimalism for becoming nothing but a stage prop. The narrative of a painting or sculpture is something different entirely. I mean, does a figurative scene necessarily contain a narrative? Does a still-life? How about an Abstract Expressionist canvas? If so, how do we experience the narrative? Do we know it in advance (perhaps from the wall tag or text in a book)? Do we experience it simultaneously to apprehending the image? I guess I'm mostly thinking about the space between text, image, time, and place, and how we experience something differently if the narrative expectation is removed or upended.

full battle rattle!

I have been awaiting the arrival of Full Battle Rattle ever since I saw the preview at Film Forum. (Side note: Film Forum has provided an essential service for me in New York -- great movies. Yeah, I mean, you could go to IFC, but for me, FF is the best place to watch independent films in New York. The location right near the #1 Train Wooster St. stop and New York Sports Club doesn't hurt either).

I have to admit that I don't have the best taste in narrative films. I usually go for romantic comedies or dramas. But I do pride myself in being able to assess documentary films quite well, both from my experience in making them and from evaluating them for film festivals. You have to see this movie for yourself (if you happen to be in New York, San Francisco, or Seattle), but basically it's about two documentary filmmakers who travel to the Mojave desert in California where mock-Iraqi town have been created. Soldiers who are about to be sent to Iraq first have to endure two weeks of this simulated environment. There are two basic sides to this place: (1) the soldiers' base and (2) the Iraqi town populated by Iraqis (played by Iraqi immigrants and Iraqi-Americans) and insurgents (played by experienced military soldiers). Each of the filmmakers inhabits one of the two sides and films the experience of one infantry.

After a few days, the soldiers begin to forget that they are living in a simulated environment and start to experience the effects of "real" war. The Iraqi actors are each given a role (shop owner, sheriff, mayor, etc), and they must play their role as accurately as possible. After the mayor's son is brutally shot, a civil war breaks out and chaos ensues. The insurgents get the upper-hand and the soldiers fail in their role as peacemakers in this faux-invasion of a mock Iraq.

The brilliance of this film is the blurring of the lines between what real and make-believe. Normally, the filmmakers receive credit for achieving this tension. However, I would argue that they simply chose a fascinating subject and captured the situation as it unraveled. The success of the film has less to do with brilliant film making and editing, and more to do with recognizing the capacity for this simulated environment to provide a well-rounded account of what might be happening in Iraq. More succinctly, this film about a fake Iraqi town provides insight to what a real Iraqi town might be like -- much more accurately and candidly than any other news media. Confronting this simulation was challenging -- the scripted situations often created tense relations between the Iraqis and the soldiers. But the simulation cannot convey the actual war, the living towns, the unscripted confrontations.

This film forces you to recognize your own illusions about the war and compels you to confront the realities of both soldiers and Iraqi citizens in an uneasy way that actual news reports have failed to do.

alert!

The Whitney is watching! I have just been informed by an anonymous intern that the communication intern has been receiving google alerts every time I mention the Whitney Museum!!! Isn't that crazy!?!? I mean, it doesn't really bother me that much b/c, after all, I love working here and can't get enough of my dept, colleagues, database entry, etc. It's not like I'm saying anything bad or negative. I just feel the slight tinge of hesitation that accompanies any big brother-type situation.

free like a freelancer

The internship at the Whitney Museum has definitely led to one major decision in my life: I want to be a freelance museum educator. Basically, I would be hired by museums to lead school group tours (K-12) through the museum. I would develop my own lesson plans with the collection and in collaboration with teachers at each school. In short, I would achieve my goal of making art relevant and accessible to students in front of actual art work. Divine!

So, up goes a posting for freelance museum educators. At the Whitney. Amazing! The problem is that I have to return to USC in the fall to my MA/PhD program. Then I toss around and around whether I should stay in New York. I mean, how fabulous! How wonderful! Oh, except that I would be further delaying higher education (stipend, paid tuition) for a position that I could get in LA with the right amount of determination. Should I forgo this opportunity? I always talk like I already have the job....

Which I don't. Survey says I should return to LA like the responsible grad student that I am -- only one year away from my master's degree. I have a lot to look forward to at home: boyfriend, cat, TA'ing ancient Asian art, serving as the chair of the student life committee. Oh -- and awesome courses in the fall. But one thing is for sure. I'll be calling MOCA, LACMA, the Getty, and other arts institutions in the hopes of becoming America's Next Top Freelance Museum Educator.

the secret life of museum security guards

Museum Guard, mixed media, 1975. “Collection of the Estate of Duane Hanson” Art © Estate of Duane Hanson/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY.

Forget the curators. They get all the attention and media hype. The museum director is too intimidating and hard to reach. Conservators are really interesting and so are museum educators, but I sort of already know what they do. With all of the fascinating people to interview in the museum, with all their expertise and art-world status, my choice of making a documentary about museum security guards may seem strange. However, I think these people may have the most interesting insight into the museum world. Of course, I haven't done any interviews or started filming yet, but just from my casual interactions with the guards at the Whitney so far, I can honestly say that they form a group of compelling characters.

First of all, the Whitney museum guards are the most friendly, approachable, and endearing guards I have ever met. If you enter the museum with your intern badge around your neck, they will pretty much always engage you in conversation about the art, what you're doing, and what you think. When I tell them "hey, I'm new here. Just a lowly intern," they give me a little pep talk about how it only takes one breakthrough to embark on the road to success. I have met some really optimistic people watching over the art in the galleries and I want to know what they think about the art and the institution.

Apparently, there was a meeting between the security guards and the museum administration in which the museum guards requested more art education for themselves. They were tired of not knowing the answers to questions other than "where is the bathroom?" and "how do I get out of here?" I am not sure what the outcome of that meeting was, but I hope that the administration will recognize the importance of educating everyone that works in the museum, not just those that visit.

So, once I get my camera and Youth Insight participants, I am ready to go! Just need to set up some meetings with security guards and get the camera rolling. The film will be posted on the Whitney website or youtube and hopefully on this blog too (pending approval from Whitney's Rights and Reproductions department). Let me know if you have any suggestions or probing questions to pose.

over-the-top openings

Last night, I attended the Buckminster Fuller and Paul McCarthy opening at the Whitney Museum (one of the few perks as summer intern). First, you get your staff ID or invitation checked by a series of guards (a la airport security). Then you enter the main floor and hear an uproar of music, laughter, and the swishing of two-buck chuck between the cheeks of rich donors, art world elite, and the staff members. Michael Jackson circa 1985 blares on the loudspeakers downstairs and the entire place has turned into a major, romping bar. Needless to say, I felt pretty under-dressed in my cute work dress and slightly tipsy from the bottle of Prosecco that my boyfriend and I shared at our pre-opening Italian dinner on the UWS.

Diving down into this mess of bubbly and baubles, we grabbed a drink and I attempted to find the five people that I know (and actually want to pay my respects to). Of course, I see the one person I'm avoiding. Hm. Off to the outdoor patio, where I find people smoking behind the polite "please do not smoke" sign. So New York. More people I don't know.

It is there that it dawns on me. I am inebriated with the hope of power and status in the art world and declare: "One day, I am going to be an important art historian. They are going to invite me to these soirees and I will regard their petty postcard with rigorous disapproval. How could they think I could possibly attend such a bestial formality as an opening! Don't they know that I am a famous art historian???? I'm too busy writing the next Sculpture in the Expanded Field! Humph!"

Ok -- so that's probably never going to happen, but for some reason, it all came out last night at the Whitney. That rush of power a lowly intern may never truly experience. Oh...and along with all the glitz and glamor, there was the art. But nø one goes for that apparently.

wanted: advisor

My goal for next year is to find an advisor. I really need some guidance here. We just received the list of art history grad seminars for next year and they look fantastic! Awesome courses are offered, taught by fabulous professors. I am completely overjoyed with the offerings -- no doubt about it. The one thing that is missing right now is someone to help me navigate through the options and pick (literally), the right course of action.

I have a few people in mind who I would like to be my advisor. However, one of these profs has WAY too many advisees. The other professor is more a specialist in modern rather than contemporary art. Both of these things are problems. Amplified by the fact that USC still hasn't confirmed its two new hires. Oy!

On the bright side, I have realized that academia is controlled by chaos. You can never predict who will like you or believe in your work. You never know who you're going to piss off or fall in love with. The hiring process is a mystery and heavily influenced by powers beyond your controls (politics, pulling special favors, etc). If my whole life is going to be revolving around this chaotic mess, I have to be ok (see previous post) with uncertainty and favoritism. I have to just believe that everything will work out. I have to put things in perspective and hold on to what I believe in. Be open to transformative experiences, as one Whitney education dept. member advised. See...I'm always looking for advice anywhere I can get it.

o.k.

Every Thursday morning, the other Whitney interns and I attend "Seminar," which is basically a two-hour meeting to hear representatives from other departments in the museum. We learn about who they are, what they do, how they got to this point in their career, etc. For most interns, this is a helpful and inspiring exercise in which you learn about possible careers in the museum. For me, however, it's a time to endure the panic and pain of self-evaluation. Instead of listening to the curators, publishers, educators, conservators, etc., I spend most of the two-hours thinking "ohmigod. these people are too cool. i obviously made the wrong decision. why am i so behind? why can't i be as successful? why am i still in school?"

This is where being o.k. is important. I have to be o.k. with my present situation. I have to be o.k. with being a grad student intern. I am constantly second-guessing myself, questioning whether I am really at the ideal place at the perfect time. I am endlessly looking for something better, probing the waters for the next big leap. Although this has gotten me far in my "career" thus far, I have to sit back and look at the big picture. What does it mean to be an art historian? What does it mean to go through this extensive process, in which you're never sure if you're right or wrong, hip or dull, smart or stupid, right-on or totally-off?

It's infuriating and exacerbated by the fact that I don't have an advisor. No wise elder to help me maneuver through this path. I'm hopeful that by the end of next year, I will have a fabulous, witty, and compassionate advisor to advise me. Until then, I will have to be o.k. with my current situation.

i heart html

I never thought I would say this, but I love html. I mean, I only know the very basics (like making things bold or adding a footnote here or there), but I find it so rewarding. I'm not sure if it's the logic that I like or the there's-only-one-correct-answer sense of accomplishment. One of my tasks as the online education intern is to update the database that controls all the images, text, and links on the learning@whitney website. As such, I have learned some code and will hopefully learn more.

In graduate school, you spend so much time questioning your reading, professors, peers, and yourself. There are no 100% "correct" answers and there's always a counter-argument. You're on the offensive or defensive and, to make it all worse, the referees are all biased either for or against you. In the world of html, you enter text and something happens. Something definite, something repeatable, something understandable. In grad school, you write something and there's no end to the possible permutations. And there is no code.

curators v. educators

Something that becomes more and more apparent as I work at museums is the subtle, underlying tension between curators and educators. I'm not sure if I'm reading the situation wrong, but it seems to me like a rift exists. I find this phenomenon awfully strange, particularly since the overarching goals between curators and educators should be the same: exposing the public to art with some sort of intent to teach. Curators and educators should work in tandem -– each exploiting the talents and strengths of the other. However, this rarely seems to actually happen. I think this has something to do with the type of people who enter the curatorial and educational fields.

The unofficial job description for a curator probably says something like: "Calling individuals with a unique vision, historical footing, and impressive educational pedigree. Must be opinionated and self-assured. Job requirements include schmoozing with superstar liter-arties, high-profile events, and predicting the edgiest and most profitable work. Occasional paperwork. You have a special vision -- now it's time to show the world!"

The unofficial job description for education goes as follows: "Looking for hard-working and dedicated staff of selfless individuals who want to make the world a better place. Perfect position for idealists, art teachers, and community organizers. Make art accessible and relevant to the general population. Basic knowledge of art history preferred. Must be able to relate to people and speak to large groups in public."

For me, personally, I fall somewhere in between and this is probably why I'm acutely sensitive to the tension between curators and educators. One colleague said that curators think educators are "dumbing down" the art works. Educators simply try to explain in pedestrian words the giant, magnificent vision that the curator has put together. While this is a bit hyperbolic and certainly not true of most of the curators that I have worked with, it may ring true in certain situations and in certain institutions. My problem is that I see both sides of the coin and it could end up being either heads or tails for me.

Truth is, I want to make art accessible to the general public AND I want to hang stuff on the walls. I see myself working with kids AND I see myself seeking out new artists at art-world events. I'd love to be a free-lance museum educator BUT I'm not ready to give up thinking on an abstract level. If it were up to me, I'd create a position in which I could be both the educator and the curator -- lead tours, activities, and in-depth discussions of the art I carefully selected according to my own, unique vision. Until that happens, I'll have to continue pulling together my own program tailored to my needs for teaching, learning, and (most importantly) growing.

the internet: where all the cool kids live

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Last night at The Kitchen, n+1 hosted a discussion about the internet. While Net Aesthetics 2.0 focused on the possibilities of art-making on the web, "The Internet: We All Live There Now" panel ranted about the impossibility of fiction and the delicate operation of shame on the internet. This literary standpoint seemed both relevant and pretentious. Here are some questions that were raised:
:// How is "clicking" analogous to physical touch?
:// Is the "window" really the correct term for what appears?
:// Where are you when you're "on" the internet?
:// If everything is searchable and can be found, is there anything new to say?
:// Does the internet make everything commercial?
:// Is there any pleasure to garnered from reading a blog that is similar to the joy of reading a book? Is there any satisfaction at the end of reading a post?
:// How does tone, grammar, and word choice change when writing a blog entry v. a comment?
:// Is there a humiliation in oversharing information on the web?
:// Do people born after 1980 feel shame anymore? (this raised a lot of debate)
:// Is the Kindle the new Segway? (both replace an easy, simple, often enjoyable task of turning pages or walking)

So, what did I gain from this literary discussion about the internet? Mostly that people will do anything to apply old ways of thinking to new technologies (what are the active discourses of the internet?). Especially when their life's work depends on retaining a relevancy. I see this in art history and now I've gotten a glimpse of it in literary scholarship. The focus on shame was a bit overwhelming and not something discussed as much in internet art. Internet art seems more about putting your work out there, getting recognized, and creating a buzz. I would appreciate any answers to the questions above.

net aesthetics 2.0

MTAA Simple Net Art Diagram

@

New Museum, New York

On Friday June 7th, all us geeks, freaks, and art history nerds filed into the theater of the New Museum for a stimulating panel called Net Aesthetics 2.0. Actually, it was one of the cooler talks that I've ever been to. I've never spent a heap of time thinking about how art changes when the internet serves as the platform, frame, material, medium, gallery, archive, space, forum, etc. But apparently people, like MTAA, have been considering these issues since the 90s, which makes me feel behind on a medium of my own generation. I've added links from the artists on the panel to my site, so definitely check it out. Question: is internet art dead? How do you define net art? MTAA defines net art according to strict definitions (see above). This does not include posting stuff on youtube or flickr, but actually in that fluid, unknowable space between computer connections. In thinking about my own research interests, I'm tossing around the opportunity to use net art to create interactive and unintentional monuments/memorials. Back to being geeky...

Sign of the times

Atlantic Avenue Art Walk

Kim Holleman, Trailer Park @ Atlantic Ave Art Walk


I've discovered Time Out New York and serendipitously read at 3:00PM on Sunday afternoon about the Atlantic Avenue Art Walk in Brooklyn. So I hopped on the 2 or 3 train and landed in a totally different place than Manhattan. The streets were wider, the buildings shorter, and I could afford almost anything (even the art!) I bought two prints, four Shinsuke Aso postcards ($0.25 a piece) and an ice coffee at the Flying Saucer Cafe (cute name). Yes, now I know why everyone's moving to Booklyn. Above, we have the cleverly named "Trailer Park," which is exactly what it sounds like -- a trailer with a park inside. It's actually quite well done and a pleasure to sit in. Other than that piece, nothing really stood out in terms of "great" art, although the prints from Axelle Fine Arts were quite impressive (but unfortunately not for sale). Overall, I highly enjoyed Atlantic Avenue and can't wait to return soon for some Vietnamese food at Mai.

Woke up it was a Chelsea Morning

[Title Unknown] John Isaacs Sculpture at the Max Lang Gallery in New York. Part of the Evolution exhibition curated by Marc Wellman.
Eugenio Percossi, Black and White at the RARE Gallery.

In an attempt to hit at least one art-related event every day (or at least 4 per week), I ventured out on Saturday morning to Chelsea -- one of the hip gallery areas in New York. Actually finding Chelsea, that was the hard part. But once I stumbled past the car-repair shops and carefully avoided puddles of sewage and drain water, there it was. Gallery heaven. For some reason, these two pieces really struck me. I think my affinity for contemporary sculpture has increased dramatically since my UCLA grad seminar with Miwon Kwon and George Baker. I can never look at a three-dimensional piece, installation art, performance, or even an artist talk in the same way again. I was particularly drawn to the piece on the left because of its associations with Minimalist work of the 1960s, but this time done in the flesh! The right piece drew my attention because when you enter the room, you feel like you're in a black and white photograph. It's totally uncanny and quite amazing.

egg

Troubled Waters Port by William Eggleston, photographed 1975, printed 1980. Image courtesy of the Getty Museum. Available online.

Otherwise known as my first writing project for the Whitney Museum Summer Internship Program in the Education Department, Online Education.

Yes, it's that time of year again. I have embarked on my latest summer internship, this time in New York City at the Whitney Museum. I am an intern in the Education Dept. and working primarily for the online education section. My supervisor is fantastic and the other five interns (the educrew, as I am thinking of calling us) are smart, sharp, enthusiastic undergrads. So far, so good.

The best part of this internship is that I will have the opportunity to produce scholarship that will be accessible online at the Whitney Learning Website. Having never published anything online (present blog excluded), this is a really exciting opportunity for me. I spend the days doing research and coming up with brilliant explanations to help educate students, teachers, and the general public about art! More about this piece later...

from berlin to nyc

if there's one thing i'm going to miss this summer while i'm in nyc, it's the beer and strawberries at krumme lanke in berlin. after spending the last two summers in berlin, it's definitely going to be an (unwelcome) change. but, on the other hand, interning in the education department at the whitney museum has huge benefits and i am so grateful to have this opportunity.

after applying to ten internships and receiving a job offer to teach film production and criticism at my former middle school, i have decided to intern there this summer. i'll have another post about locating summer internships for graduate students -- start looking in november/december is the first tip! But, if you do start looking in February (like I did), there are still a huge number of great opportunities. More to come in following posts. For now, enjoy the visual delicacies...

summer funding for unpaid internship at non-profit

The deadline for the Dream-Dollars Program at USC has already passed (April 4th @ 5:00PM), but hopefully they'll continue this program next year. Basically, USC will pay $1,200 for a 6-week internship over the summer as long as the internship is (1) unpaid and (2) at a non-profit or government institution. Pretty sweet! The website says only open to undergrads, but I contacted the organizers and received confirmation that graduate students were eligible also. Definitely something to look into for next summer...

tim(ing) of my life

according to the dissertation coach, Gina Hiatt, PhD., you are supposed to write in 30 minute blocks at least once everyday. this week, i have attempted to apply her writing philosophy to reading. it sort of work. except that every 30 minutes, i then spend 10 minutes online, checking email, eating, etc. I think I'll up my blocks to 45 minutes. If you have writer's block or just difficulty getting your long-term projects done, she's a great resource. except now I live my life by 30 minute blocks...