I spent last week in Washington D.C. This city used to be a frequent destination for me to visit museums, take in the architectural beauty and reflect on our history as a nation. This was however my first visit in nearly nine years and it was a very different trip as it involved my 8 year old son. We spent some time up front discussing the history and importance of the city and reviewed maps and photo books. When I got there it felt like I was visiting an old friend.
It’s not a perfect city nor a perfect democracy. We need to remember that our country is still a great experiment and there is still much to learn. I do worry that we are in danger of forgetting how to learn or work together for a greater good. We’ve created so much in such a short amount of time. We need to take the next steps, together.
There were people everywhere from all over the world this past week. They came eager to learn and excited for the opportunity. There’s a huge benefit to being a tourist. We don’t have to do the negotiation or the hard work of trying to support a base and stay true to what’s inside one’s heart. I don’t envy their job, but they chose it and I do expect them to make progress for the nation at large.
One thing is obvious. Much of what our founding fathers did was correct. They knew they were creating something from scratch, but were wise enough to incorporate aspects of what was working across the world at large. The layout of the city. The thought that went into the decisions is probably the most impressive to me. So many things were consciously planned with deep meaning. Lady Liberty on the Capitol dome faces east, because the sun never sets on freedom. The cities’ main architect Pierre Charles L′Enfant is buried in Arlington Cemetery at the highest point so he can forever watch over his design. The streets were labeled based on the population of the states at the time. The most populous states got the longest streets.
The city has bones with a capital B. It’s a low city. Flat. Things happen close to the ground where the interaction is most personal. And nothing is more personal that one’s government.
Capitol Dome
Atrium of Portrait Gallery and Museum of American Art
National Portrait Gallery
National Portrait Gallery
Willard Hotel
Willard Hotel
FBI Building
Union Station
At the Vietnam War Memorial
Washington Monument
Lincoln Memorial
Abe
Lincoln Memorial
Vietnam War Memorial
St. Regis
White House
Atrium, National Portrait Gallery, Museum of American Art
National Theatre
Old Post Office
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Gallery of Art
National Building Museum
Library of Congress
Hotel
Library of Congress
U.S. Capitol
Library of Congress
Library of Congress
Library of Congress
Robert Hart Benton Masterwork
U.S. Capitol
Atrium, National Portrait Gallery, Museum of American Art
Across from the White House
Library of Congress
U.S. Capitol
U.S. Capitol
Lincoln Memorial
Reflecting Pool
All Photos: Steve A Furman with either an Olympus E-350 or my iPhone5.
Over the past week I’ve made visits to a number of interactive agency offices and noticed something significant. All of them have a major part of their space under construction.The reasons offered by the senior managers of these firms as to why they are making this investment are nearly identical. They want to more closely connect team members to the arc of the process and elevate the work through collaboration on a natural, everyday basis. The days of sitting with people who have pretty much the same role; take in the assignment, add their part and then pass it along to the next team on the assembly line are over. Thankfully.
The convergence of channels and interfaces has made the need to do great marketing, branding sales and service simultaneously, and primarily in digital, of utmost importance. Every agency had a plan taped to the wall of the open space detailing the objective of the new design, sprinkled with artifacts; tables, chairs, colors and space purposes. All of this is meant to redefine how people work in a world that has been redefined by technology, devices and increased competition to stand out amid the clutter.
Corporations could learn a lot from this. Most of us are still trapped in a meeting mentality. In my opinion, work doesn’t get done in meetings. It’s kind of like planning for “quality time with your spouse or children.” It can’t be easily manufactured. Oftentimes the best experiences are spontaneous and occur at the most unexpected times. It’s the opposite of a meeting. One of the things I hear often among people who work in big firms is the following.
We should get all the stakeholders in a room for one day and knock out all the requirements and make all the tough decisions. When we walk away we’ll have exactly what we want to do and then we can go do it.
If that doesn’t speak volumes about the silos and layers and approval processes and over-collaboration, yes you can over collaborate, then I don’t know what does. There is a strong desire among people to work better, smarter and faster. Certainly no one thing or one space will magically make this happen, but I think these agencies are on to something meaningful here, and all of us should pay attention.
There are over 133,000,000 blogs actively indexed by Technorati. Each day 900,000 posts are published to those blogs and they are read by 346,000,000 people worldwide. Well, maybe not all of those 900 million posts are read. Those numbers stagger the mind (see source here). But serious blogging is about words, not numbers. Content, not concept. Substance, not flash. Authors, not note takers. If one closely examines the blur of daily posts one begins to realize that most of what is written is not inspired, but contrived, perhaps even forced so the owner can stay on a posting schedule driven by an obsession to increase readership. There’s no harm in that, as most of us, including me, post to keep visitor momentum.
As the December sun sets on the newspaper we find ourselves in a rare moment in time. How we handle that moment is important. Will we continue to obsess over the numbers, or will we step back and step-up to the task of replacing a storied source of information? But it’s probably not about replacing traditional writing form factors. That would be very difficult, perhaps even impossible as I discuss in an earlier post here.
In my opinion, the element that produces the most emotional work is without question; passion. Arguably it can be manufactured, but only in small doses and it’s not sustainable. Even the great newspaper machines struggled to maintain quality and keep ethics on the radar. But inside that editorial meeting there was most definitely passion. Real passion is discovered, revealed, teased out after having been drawn in by some intangible force. It emerges from one’s inner core. All of us have it. Most of us don’t recognize it as easily as others. Some lucky souls see it very clearly. They tame it then shape it. One of those people is Liz Goldner.
I’ve known Liz almost 15 years. She has led a life that runs predominately on emotion and passion which has transported her from one end of the country to the other. Today she makes her home in Orange County, safely tucked inside the Golden State. She roams the art world and reports her observations on her site, Contemporary Art Dialogue. Technically it’s not a blog, but that’s not important, for good content can inhabit almost any form factor. (Full disclosure: Liz writes about me on her site, but there is no financial arrangement)
She likes to poke around in the artist’s mind and has conducted hundreds of interviews to help her understand why someone creates, which leads her to scribe about something deeper, maybe not so obvious in the finished work. This pairing of conversation with the artist and study of the work has shaped her brand of observation into something special. She writes mostly about contemporary art, and cuts across photography, painting, assemblage, even graffiti. She likes to think deeply about theory as well as style, and delve below the water line. Postmodernism is a speciality.
Of course getting a site like this off the ground takes time and care. One of the techniques she now has in the works is to offer a free eBook to her newsletter subscribers. It’s a smart idea to move beyond the inbox and onto the desktop. When I hear eBook it usually means someone has thrown together odds and ends and called it an eBook. But when I opened BC Space: Defining Artivism, it was clear that this was what an eBook should be. It’s digest in size with a wide range of topics and compelling images sprinkled throughout. Fifty-two pages of history and cause, punctuated with that special behind the curtain conversation with the artists. It’s a generous gift. I wonder if it’s too generous.
I asked her to reflect on how she came to develop this eBook, how long it took to create and in particular, why she chose BC Space as the tentpole. Here is her reply.
Steve Furman asked me to write a page for his blog describing how long it took to write my eBook, BC Space: Defining Artivism. The short answer is three weeks. But the real answer is more than seven years.
I originally wrote my eBook, offered free, as an incentive for people to subscribe to my newsletter. Yet completed, it took on a life of its own. I realized that the story of BC Space Gallery is so compelling that itcould be the genesis of a larger eBook that I will sell through the Internet in the future.
Here is my story!
On March 30, 2003 (shortly after the Iraq War began), I walked down Forest Avenue in Laguna Beach, opened a heavy steel door and climbed the stairs to BC Space Gallery. I was there to interview gallery owner Mark Chamberlain about his exhibition, “Pretty Lies, Dirty Truths,” addressing the horrors of war.
I reflect back to that day in Defining Artivism: “Open that 85-year-old door, climb a steep, narrow stairway to a large, bright entryway lined with artworks. Walk into two well-lit galleries, the second with a skylight and black ceiling. Continue into a large open area, the combined studio/entertainment/performance area. Accoutrements include a small stage from the original Masonic Hall, a first-rate sound system, a projection screen, and large glass doors facing a quiet lane.”
As Mark and I talked, I realized that the thoughtful, artistic person facing me was leading the adventurous life I had always yearned to live. I was attracted to the artworks on display, to the spare magnificence of the 30-year-old art space and to the philosophical perspectives and bohemian lifestyle of the gallery owner.
Mark and I began a friendship that included dialogues about the relationship of art to social issues, and about the intersection of art and politics. Our conversations, in person, by phone and email, were punctuated by forays to art events, films and sometimes meals.
Tales of His Life
Perhaps because Mark sees no separation between his work, art making and his life, he often weaves together tales of his childhood and adult life with those of his career as an environmental artist and of the ongoing development of BC Space Gallery.
From my eBook: “Located in a commercial area on Forest Avenue, Mark Chamberlain continues to support the [BC Space] gallery through his Photographic Art Services. Within that space, he explores his personal artwork, while mentoring (and curating) other artists in their quest for creative expression – all free of the need for commercial conformity…Today, BC remains firmly ensconced in the building in which it was launched. It has kept pace with the dramatic changes from film to digital image making, while also presenting exhibitions of painting, sculpture, installations, and video, as well as film, music, theatre, and dance events.”
As Mark and I talked over the months and the years, I listened carefully to his words about the gallery and exhibitions and about the concurrent artworks he produced. As I questioned and absorbed his many stories, his focus, passion, courage and insights inspired me to be more focused, passionate and courageous in my own work. Mark was mentoring me to become a more confident and insightful art writer.
A year after we met, Mark invited me to a slide presentation/talk that he and former BC Space partner, Jerry Burchfield, were giving at Laguna Beach City Hall. While the hour-long talk about their ongoing Laguna Canyon Project (photographing historic Laguna Canyon Road) was fascinating and expertly delivered, I was impressed by their passion for the work and by their camaraderie. In time, I learned that their deep, symbiotic friendship was often the catalyst for individual and joint artworks.
Careful Documentation
Being a scribe, I kept many emails that Mark and I wrote to each other, turning them into documents. I also kept essays, press releases and letters that Mark sent and received. Mark and I joked about me being his personal biographer. What began as a joke became a more serious matter.
No one else was keeping track of the ongoing multifarious activities of BC Space and its proprietor – a combination Mississippi River rat (he grew up on that river), campus radical, sensitive aesthete and unbridled mustang.
Jerry Burchfield had been an excellent gallery chronicler, but he left BC in 1987 to teach full time. While Jerry continued to support the gallery’s activities, he no longer kept assiduous track of the evolving art space.
After Jerry was diagnosed with cancer in 2007, I requested an interview to discuss his love for photography and involvement with BC Space for 14 years. He and I talked for several hours, then refined our discussion via emails.
“We were a pioneering entity, showing work regardless of its salability, ignoring the tourist art tradition of Laguna art galleries.” Jerry said. “We even called ourselves ‘obscurists.’ Artist friends told us we were crazy to start a business like this in Laguna – that we needed to be where the action was in L.A. But Laguna was so nice and we had cheap rents and could walk to work on the beach. In time, we exhibited work by artists from all over the country.”
“Shortly before his passing in September 2009, Jerry said, “There wasn’t any separation between art and life. We did our work out of love, and attracted extraordinary people to share in our mission. Anyone could approach us about exhibiting here. BC Space was like living a dream. We created a playland that allowed us to explore art and life.”
BC Space History
Last year, Cal State Fullerton’s Santa Ana exhibition space was preparing to mount “BC Space: Mything in Action,” chronicling the gallery’s 37 years of exhibitions. I was asked to write BC’s history for a catalog accompanying the show. I spent four months writing, researching and refining my words, often with the help (and provocation) of Mark Chamberlain.
This year, I expanded the 3,500-word history into my 9,000-word eBook, Defining Artivism. From late June to mid July, I worked nearly 200 hours – often in the middle of the night – on this eBook. I revised my original history and added in many comments about Jerry and Mark from artists and supporters. I also added a chronology.
For three weeks, I wrote day and night, drawing from a bottomless well of creativity. During that period, I mused that art often draws from and follows life experiences. In particular, the artistry I was building in Defining Artivism was inspired by the subject matter I was writing about, including my many experiences at BC Space Gallery over the years.
Thank you,
Liz Goldner – Laguna Beach, California
eBook
You were forewarned about the passion thing weren’t you. This kind of commitment and care is more common than you might think among people who write vs. post. Certainly there are serious blogs out there that explore with great prose and structure. And a blog was not originally developed to be a replacement for a finely crafted magazine or newspaper article. However, a blog is a technology tool, and with all tools the final product that comes out of using a tool varies greatly. There’s room for all of it certainly. Take a moment and subscribe to the Contemporary Art Dialogue newsletter to get a free copy of the eBook and see for yourself. By the way, in case you were thinking of using the eBook technique to promote your own blog or site efforts. The bar is now officially set to high.
As the newspaper fades away and the torch of journalism (term used loosely) passes to the masses, we will need to raise our game to meet that awesome responsibility. Many people fear this moment because of the drastic change and loss of something tangible. Yet another thing we were so comfortable with has been taken away. Not so. This moment should be embraced and cherished. Celebrated even. Keep your passion burning brightly. If you don’t have it yet, find it. It’s right there in front of you. And most importantly, keep writing.
The completion of the new Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago adds an additional 264,000 square feet of gallery space to this already impressive museum. It’s now the second largest in the country, trailing only The New York Metropolitan Museum of Art. I had the good fortune of being at the AIC on Wednesday, May 13th giving a talk on Customer Experience, so I took advantage of the opportunity to tour the new Modern Wing. As a museum member I was allowed in on a self-guided tour ahead of the opening on May 16th.
Designed by Italian architect Renzo Piano, the wing has it’s own entrance on Monroe street, placing it squarely in the cross hairs of the The Great Lawn, raking down from the Jay Pritzker Pavilion of Millennium Park (designed by Frank Gehry). From this view you can’t see a trace of the familiar Beaux Arts building that’s been in residence on Michigan Avenue for more than 130 years. It feels as if you may even be in a different city as you approach the glass rectangles and massive cantilevered grid roof. Perhaps Los Angeles, sans palm trees. The design has a transformative power filling one with anticipation of what’s to come.
The Foyer looking to the Monroe St. entrance
The main foyer is narrow and deep like a pure white slot canyon. The offset, light oak floor planks deliver you into the space like a moving sidewalk. Your eye is drawn up to the sky pouring in through the stainless steel and glass grid ceiling. The stairs off to one side float up and into the more approachable squarish gallery boxes that array the museum’s stunning collection. A wonderful geometric compliment to the extreme main hallway.
You are however swarmed by the sameness, almost monotony of the structure; white, chrome and glass. But the space overall is workmanlike and the design is kind and courteous to the artist. Once you are inside any of the galleries, the building clears out of the way and allows the art to take center stage. It’s early days, and so, the curators still have work to do. But overall, the experience is splendid.
View of the Modern ceiling
The museum’s collection is expansive and inspiring. Modigliani, Picasso, Johns, Pollack, Warhol, etc., they’re all here to be rediscovered under the eye of the Modern. It works best if you go immediately to the third floor and wind your way down. At first you see classic galleries. As you descend you slowly begin to notice variations on how the space is shaped. One section contains 30 shadow boxes by Joseph Cornell, appropriately lined up in their own cubbies. At the north end of each floor is that constant view of Millennium Park where city goers gather and mingle among evening concerts in the warm Midwest summer nights. Taken together it’s an oasis of culture and reflection. Both are welcome in these tough times.
Once you are back at ground level an architecture gallery second to none (sorry Met) awaits you. Chicago is after all the home of the skyscraper, our payback for enduring the Great Fire. And so, this gallery is filled with elegant drawings and detailed models tracking the growth of structures and modern design of all types. Photography and video galleries round out the first floor. If you still have enough energy to take in more, you can exit the Modern foyer opposite of where you entered and violà, the rest of the Art Institute awaits.
On my tour I followed a senior gentleman with his daughter for a short while. He was in constant awe and I caught a sound bite as he gazed out of the third floor northern facing window. He said, “It sure is a modern world.” A fitting comment.
Chicago is a city of dreamers and doers. The Modern Wing has found a home.
Photos: Steve A Furman. To see more Modern Wing photos go here.
Only the top floor of the stone apartment building is revealed in Hopper’s House at Dusk. Our eye traverses past each window and quickly we notice a woman, alone of course, sitting on a bright red chair looking down. Perhaps she is reading a book or stroking a newly acquired kitten. You get the feeling that she has spent all day in her apartment and from time to time glances up and out through her window to the vista beyond. Her chair is strategically positioned to allow her that view as well as of her small space where she lives. There is no television, only a radio.
The limestone structure is Georgian in style, exhibiting a formal arrangement of parts employing a symmetrical composition, enriched with classical detail. It’s ringed in dental molding and framed with large quoins at each corner. The exterior finish is smooth, not course ashlar, and the sash windows are narrow and long and vertically separated from the ones below with a decorative inset. Hopper has removed the panes of glass dividers frequently seen in windows of this architecture style, as if plucking companions from the lives of those still occupying the rooms. This is yet another signal of aloneness which permeates his body of work. No one else can be seen through the windows, either they have not yet returned home from their daily work ritual, or are positioned more in the center of their apartments.
The chimneys rise to equal heights but varying widths above the roof, and are perfectly aligned with the windows or wall columns beneath them. Hopper loves his symmetry. They reflect the dental ribbon and their stark contrast against the dark clump of trees resembles teeth. No smoke can be seen, which means there are no fires in the hearths beneath these stone stacks.
The perspective in which Hopper has painted the structure combined with how the molding juts out at the roof line causes the building to be seen as a trapezoid, not a rectangle. The sharply and probably somewhat steep steps off to the right intersect the building exactly at the inset space separating the top two floors. This connects the house with the preserve of trees that dominates the middle layer of the painting. The angle of the steps means it’s a completely different world beyond those trees. There is no one on the steps and although we can’t see much of the grounds behind the building or off the canvas to the right, we know for certain no children are pushing their play time as the sun sets. No young lovers are lounging on a blanket enjoying each other’s company. There is nothing there.
A lone street lamp in the lower right hand corner of the canvas echoes the simple buffet lamp with a classic, pleated, empire shade in the top floor apartment. These two lamps are the only overt light sources revealed. However, since the front of the building is well illuminated and we can see a shadow on the third chimney from the left, it means other street lamps exist.
The thick grove of trees immediately behind the house serves as a lush, green fence, completely detaching the life of the occupants of this building from what lies beyond. The structure is most likely on the outskirts of a bustling urban area, which by contrast is rich in sight and sound and dialog.
That amazing, signature Hopper light permeates the entire canvas. How much of it is that ever-changing dusk light and how much of it is coming from the city beyond, waking up to its evening? Hopper always keeps us guessing about the stories, but never forgets to provide us with perfect light. The light gives me everything I need.
There was a Hopper show at The Art Institute of Chicago in the spring of 2008. You can read my thoughts on that exhibition here.
The towers have been gone for seven years now, and with them over 3,000 who lost their lives there, at the Pentagon and in the Pennsylvania plane crash. They are sorely missed. Many others suffered injuries that day and survived. What to do with that sacred ground in New York has been the topic of much discussion and review since the attacks. Officials are trying to balance the need to respect those that lost their lives with the economic opportunity that this location affords.
There is some movement on the site now, as steal for the new structures has been delivered. But the process is proceeding slowly. You can check on on the progress at the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation site here.
The rebuilding is being captured on film minute by minute, as it happens. It’s the most extensive implementation of time lapse photography ever undertaken. Have a look at the work in progress at the Project Rebirth site here.
I had an extra hour this week between sessions while attending a board of advisors meeting in San Francisco, so I walked two blocks to the Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA). I really love this structure and was here while it was under construction, then came back a couple of times after it opened. The finished product is an appropriate space for a modern art collection. It’s constructed in perfectly even layers of black, gray, white, brown and blue. The modern interpretation of geologic strata found naturally in rocks of the west. Mostly straight lines and crisp angles, with curves sprinkled in to soften the experience and direct your eyes back into the main space of the building. None of the art can be seen without taking sharp turns. It’s the opposite of the Guggenheim in NY, where the art can be viewed from almost anywhere, as if one was surveying the landscape. An oval eye is proped up on top of the structure, evoking a communications dish poised to collect radio waves from the cosmos.
There was a fascinating media art installation on the third floor entitled, Opposing Mirrors and Video Monitors on Time Delay. The artist is Dan Graham, and it was composed of two black and white television monitors, two video cameras and two large mirrors positioned on opposite sides of a wide gallery. As you approach, the camera records you, but holds it for a few seconds before feeding the video to a small TV screen. The result is a bit jarring. You move inquisitively toward the television screen expecting to see yourself but you don’t. Suddenly you appear as you were a few seconds earlier, giving you an opportunity to study yourself in motion. It takes a while to notice what’s going on, but once you get it, the brain lights up.
It’s like that old trick where you are looking into what you believe to be a mirror, but in fact it’s an opening, and someone else is facing you (your identical twin), pretending to be your reflection. That person mimics your body movements and facial expressions exactly, hoping to keep up the illusion. You then try to outsmart the reflection by making sudden, unexpected movements. In the trick it works, but in this installation, it’s always you. I snapped this photo of me inside the monitor with my iPhone.
Eventually you start performing, to see what you look like. You move in for a close up and make faces. Travel from one side of the gallery to the other and do it all over again. The mirrors keep the image moving and changes the point of view, so you can see both your front and back. Kind of a reality show on yourself, but without the personal humiliation or prize money. Everyone that passed by was instantly engaged. This is the power of modern art; the viewer participates and the common perspectives are challenged.
Unfortunately I didn’t have time to see much of anything else, but captured a few more images on the way back to the summit.
I have a keen interest in architecture. Sometimes I think I missed my calling by not becoming an architect. My father built every house he ever lived in as an adult, and it was such a benefit for me to be a small part of those projects. In his younger years he did it all; masonry to carpentry, electrical to plumbing, even the finishes. As the saying goes, “the apple never falls far from the tree.” I built my first custom home in 2006 (hired out, not on my own), so that desire is still alive and and well inside me. It was a great experience, and I would like to do it again.
While traveling, I keep an eye out for interesting buildings and shapes I encounter along the way. Here I have placed a sampling of photos in a slide show using slide.com.