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...