The Estheticist is a monthly, free visual arts advice service. To submit a question, write to estheticist [at] aol.com.  Questions may be published as part of this montly blog. All questions will be answered and treated anonymously.

Dear Estheticist,

As artists we have the privilege of offering our colleagues artworks in exchange. Are there any unspoken rules about artists bartering pieces? For instance, shall this works have dedication? Or is it right to sell a piece which was acquired in a friendly exchange? Thank you for your advice.

Anonymous Artist, Mexico City

Dear Anonymous Artist,

Exchanging pieces amongst artist colleagues is a wonderful practice. To propose an exchange, however, has to be done carefully and with tact. For an artist to propose a trade with a more successful  — or expensive, for that matter —artist, would be presumptuous and would place the more successful artist in an uncomfortable situation. Artists at the same level can certainly and freely propose trades to each other, but the interest in each other’s works must be clearly mutual as well as the recognition that both are at the same level (which is actually hard to do as most artists have a slightly more aggrandized vision of where they are placed reputation-wise in relation to others). The best opportunity to propose a trade most typically emerges when an artist that one admires expresses a lot of interest for a particular work of yours; it is then perfectly reasonable to suggest a trade. One should not be picky either: to demand a particular work from the collection of that artist would tarnish the exchange.  Regarding dedication: unless the dedication is considered as intricate part of the work (and some conceptual works are that way), in general to visibly dedicate the piece to someone else (say, an editioned photograph) would likely diminish the value of the work when this one may be passed down to posterity — it certainly would be of less interest to a museum unless both donor and recipient would become historically famous ( and let’s not kid ourselves that we will be, say, Matisse giving a gift to Picasso). And regarding sales: it is not appropriate to sell a work that one has acquired through an exchange of this kind. When one enters into such a trade, the implicit understanding is that admiration to each other, not monetary gain, is the reason of the contract. To choose to sell a work that one received this way is to admit that the admiration that one may have toward that artist is not as great as your desire (or need) to cash in.  Regardless of how desperate one may be for the money, the gesture of this artist will not be seen favorably amongst those around him/her, will likely offend the author of the piece, and will likely prevent others from trading with this artist in the future.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

I am an artist who has been around for a while so I am reasonably well-known and connected in the art world. Also as a result, many younger (and not so young) artists ask me for letters of recommendation for grants and residencies. While I want to help them, writing these recommendations is way too time consuming, I am a slow writer, and sometimes I am just overwhelmed by the amount of requests that I get. Moreover, there is one person in particular who every year asks me to write a recommendation for something and  I am just fed up with it. How can I let this person as well as others know that I am not endlessly available to write letters without sounding rude?

Tired Recommender

Dear Tired Recommender,

This is a very common problem, but it is not difficult to address. You, however, will have to learn how to say no.  One way to do it is to set your seasonal limit (say, three letters) and award those letters to those artists who you consider more worthy. It is perfectly fine to tell others, nicely but firmly, that while you would love to help them you are simply unable to write a decent recommendation because of lack of time. And regarding the artist who constantly solicits you, you should have no qualms in telling him/her that you will have to give the opportunity to others instead than to the same person. Needless to say, not everyone may be so understanding to your negative, but I would be that those same people will also likely be those who don’t understand the meaning of boundaries anyway.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

I was a photojournalist for many years, until I became disenchanted with the profession. Disenchantment was followed by an identity crisis, followed by a revelation; I wanted to become a full-time artist. I’ve been dabbling in drawing, painting, collage and conceptual photography for many years now, but kept these activities as a private, personal joy. I live in an art world capital with a thriving art scene and I’m thinking of taking some courses here and there, start going to vernissages and mingle, make some connections and start making art (and hopefully a name for myself). The thing is, I’m 37 years old and I never had any art related training whatsoever, which gives me extreme insecurity; I’m just not confident of my skills or my work. I’m reluctant to pursue an arts degree now, as I believe I’ve wasted so much time (I’m kicking myself for not having this revelation when I was 18 or 20 years old). I have a constant fear of not having enough time at this point in my life to develop a successful career as an artist. What should I do? Should I invest five (or more) years studying and then try to start when I’m 42 or older? Or should I trust that a few courses and good connections will help both my skills and my confidence?

Thanks!

Mid-Life Art Crisis Artist

Dear Mid-Life Crisis Artist,

You seem to be able to assess your situation with great frankness and objectivity; that in itself puts you in an advantage in relation to others who, even if they decided to become artists before you, would benefit from feeling a bit more insecure about their talent. Secondly, I think you have correctly guessed that it is not a good idea to make art in a vacuum. Although we still hold the romantic notion that an artist may make art in secret and one day be discovered after death (e. g. Henry Darger), the reality is that contemporary art is as much the result of the perseverance of one’s vision as the product of the dialogue between artists, between generations, between world views.  So it is of utmost importance for you to place yourself within a community of artists. Attending some sort of art program, classes, residencies, and even art school would be indeed very beneficial for you, to see how others think, solve similar problems, how they articulate their work toward others, and how you share or differ in your views on art.  Do not worry about your age: while it is true that you will not have the same learning arch of a 20-something, at the same time you arrive to art with valuable life experience, which you can put to good use in the creation of thoughtful and original work. Also, remember that many very important artists started making art fairly late in their career: Marcel Broodthaers, one of the most influential post-war artists, was a poet and made his first art object at 40. W. G. Sebald, one of the most influential European authors, published his first work in his 40s.  Such examples abound. And you should not be concerned about running out of time. Your focus should be to become the best artist you can be, and to find reward in the work that you make. While urgency can be a productive motivation to get to work, you should not let it turn into haste.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

I work at an alternative art space. Part of my job is to solicit artwork donations from an artist roster we have for our annual benefit. Whlle some of these artists in this roster have exhibited as part of our regular exhibition schedule in the past, others have never been invited to do so. One of them complained to me about our solicitations, saying that she has been already asked for several works in the past and that it is hypocritical of us to request donations when we have not shown interest to exhibit her work. My view is that this is indeed an opportunity for artists to get their name out, and that our space can’t possibly show every single artist’s work and thus it is valid to ask for help to those in the art community who attend our space, even if they are only spectators. Who is right?

Benefit Organizer, New York

Dear Benefit Organizer,

She is right. By soliciting free artworks for a benefit to artists who you have not included (or are not likely to include) in your regular exhibition schedule, you are sending the message (intentionally or not) that you have a double standard in artwork selection, and that this artist belongs to the category of those who are good enough to exhibit at the benefit (which is usually not a very exciting context to show a work anyway) but not be included in the regular shows.  I am sure that you have plenty of artists who have indeed exhibited at the space that you could limit your benefit solicitations to them. It is true that you will never be able (nor would ever want to) to exhibit every single artist who visits your space, but if the art community that you are supposed to service is feeling taken advantage of, you have a real problem in your hands and it is your duty to find ways through which these artists will feel, even if not supported, at least treated respectfully.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

***

Dear Estheticist,

I am an American artist and have been working with a “personal virtual assistant” from Bangalore to create a project that not only reflects the uneven conditions of the relationship, but also makes attempts to balance out the power dynamics of the relationship by treating my “assistant” like a person, making his interests the content of our work together, and even asking him to assign me tasks. The project has been extremely fulfilling and problematic – right where I want it to be. I have an exhibition planned of the work we have done together, and I’m wondering what you think the best way might be to allow for the relationship be alive during the exhibition.

Thanks,

Artist Entrepreneur

Dear Artist Entrepreneur,

Thank you for bringing up such an interesting and problematic case —which appears to be a classic ethical dilemma in social practice.  First, let’s review the facts: you are an artist who has hired a service. The individual who works for the company and, by extension, for you, is bound to a contractual relationship to which his financial subsistence depends. Even if he enjoys what you are asking him to do, or even if he plots these ideas with you, the relationship is rooted in two unaltered facts: he is doing it as part of a job, and you are his boss. Because of these facts, the relationship artist-assistant is not significantly altered regardless what you ask him to do.

Your desire to disrupt, or expose the power relationships that emerge from globalization is well noted. However, just for the sake of argument: even if this exchange is based on a democratic creative dialogue where you both make aesthetic decisions, it would not be a collaboration, because since your collaborator is likely not a visual artist versed, invested nor inserted in the international art circuit as I would assume you are, even then you will end up getting the credit, and he will remain in the background as an enhancing ingredient to your career.  The reason for this is that the kind of benefits that you are getting from this relationship are tangible but invisible— they are of the reputational economy type: you may appear publicly as a generous or democratic individual, but in the end because you are the one who is bringing this man into your cultural context you are the one to benefit.

In my view, the only way to truly balance the power dynamics of this relationship would be to not make the outcome of the project an exhibition in your cultural playing field (that is, the artworld, america, etc.) To do so would first tilt the project in an advantageous light toward your own practice, and make the assistant look less than a real person and more like a human readymade, which is what these companies sell anyway.  Where you, for instance, to revert the hierarchy and ask him to assign you tasks, or to perform tasks that his friends are doing for other bosses in the U.S., you would be into more interesting territory. And to truly level the relationship, your financial or artistic subsistence should depend on his decisions and suggestions — for instance, having him decide what your art should be like in the next year or so, without you revealing to others that you are taking instructions from him. Or starting your own reverse company, doing the kind of work for free for the personal assistants in Bangalore who service these American companies. Or just becoming the free personal assistant to any random person in Bangalore. Or do like Marina Abramovic who exchanged jobs with a prostitute in Amsterdam for a day. Etcetera.  These courses of action would be in my view a more complementary (and complimentary) alternative to simply exhibiting the projects that you had your virtual assistant do.

This is not to say that it is not valid to retain your artistic authority in this relationship (Santiago Sierra, for instance, exploits people but he is direct about it, even if it may be an unethical act). The problem is that you have created a situation where the artist-assistant relationship you propose to problematize may not appear to go so far as to truly upset the balance. What matters here is conceptual transparency and the kind of stakes that exist on both sides. Without carefully addressing both in your presentation, you risk appearing to simply extend that which you appear to criticize or only half-heartedly exposing your personal risk in a power relationship.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

I would like to ask you where would we be right about now art-wise if Renaissance had never happened – if we had skipped it altogether?

Georgia, Athens

Dear Georgia,

Thank you for your question. Not being a Renaissance expert, I consulted one truly versed Renaissance scholar.  He was puzzled by the question, saying that “I don’t know what the questioner means by “the” Renaissance, and even if I did, I would likely have no idea.”  However, knowing that this is not quite a satisfactory answer, and given our pledge here to answer every question, here I go:

Marxists historians would point out that during the Renaissance the emergence of a bourgeois class (e. g. Medici) with time for leisure and education led to art as a product that could be bought and collected. Furthermore, the emphasis on man as the measure of all things (as opposed to God) has, amongst other consequences, the phenomenon of constructing the notion of “The” artist. With Vasari’s “Lives of the Artists”, this notion is first articulated, and, one would argue, the tendency of narrating art history through the canonical narrative of individual “geniuses”. Fast forwarding to our era, we can all agree that we continue to regard physical artworks as carriers of intrinsic value (both symbolic and financial) and that we continue to nurture the notion of “The” artist (now as in “art star”), both legacies of the Renaissance.  So, what would have happened if the Renaissance hadn’t occurred?  Perhaps we can find part of the answer in societies that did not participate in, or exist outside of, the construction of Western modern culture (indigenous cultures around the world, religious movements, outsider artists, etc).  For some of these people, art is the expression of a collectivity, but it should not have financial value.  Some recognize that great artworks can be created by individuals, but don’t necessarily appreciate or favor an self-centered vision but instead how this work speaks to the group. And in some societies what we call art is not called art and artists are not considered artists in the same way in which religious icons in churches in medieval times were not seen as containing an aesthetic value outside of its expression of faith and the artists were anonymous (until Giotto came along). In other words, interpreting the view of authors like Arthur Danto, without the Renaissance we would not have had a beginning of the art historical arch, we would not have had a modern era, an academy, a modernism, a post-modernism, and the death of art. Art today would perhaps not be called art. Museums as spaces where to show these things would not be considered necessary.  People would make art, but not necessarily sell it or collect it, and this art would perhaps not be about their vision but would perhaps be collectively made or anonymous. And we would have lost the chance to have a Sistine Chapel. But we would have likely also been spared from Damien Hirst.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

What makes an Art object meaningful? it the indication that something meaningful is present? Is it the attention we proceed to invest in it? Is it our capacity to subsequently rationalize that experience into a communicable verbal analog: to describe it in words? Is it in the act of communication?

Yours sincerely,

Dan, St. Louis

Dear Dan,

Your question lies at the core of epistemology and it is the source of a large debate between proponents of different schools of thought.  From the standpoint of hermeneutics, what makes an artwork meaningful is the successful mediation of a force between the viewer and the object, some kind of “third” force that, if successful, disappears when the connection takes place (the most common example is language: when we speak about an object language help us attain meaning, but at the same time recedes into the background because we are not conscious that we are using it).  Structuralism, by contrast, argued that meaning only can come when you utilize a signifying system —could be feminism, anthropology, political theory, semiotics— to approach an object, and because of the many variables of systems and individuals, meaning is an unstable product. In art museums, an influential approach has come from constructivist theory, which draws from hermeneutics in that it sees the reaching of meaning as a mediated process, and from structuralism in that it is relative to the interpreter. It also places most emphasis on the experience of the viewer as the main constructor of meaning.

In any case, most art education theorists would agree that there are likely a myriad of reasons why an art work becomes meaningful. Objects can be meaningful to us without us having to verbally articulate why. They also become suddenly meaningful when we hear others speak enthusiastically about them. But meaning ultimately is an internal negotiation within yourself, when you process all the information you have received of a particular object and, be it for the suggestibility of the context around you, irrational impulse, or careful reflection on the issues that it poses in your mind. And because the conditions that create it are never fixed, it is unpredictable what may become most meaningful to an individual. Social and cultural conditioning may cause us to agree that a particular art work is very meaningful, but even then we usually disagree on the reason why.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

What do you do when you realize that you are being been stalked, used and vampirized by a so-called friend, some one much younger than you? How do you let the world know that you reject this person? I confronted my friend but he reacted surprised, as if I was mad. I feel as if I was in the “All about Eve’ movie, surrounded by pathological narcissists on coke. I want to escape! Help, please!

Best,

Don Quixote, Spain

Dear Don Quixote,

It would be easier to help you if your letter was a bit less opaque in the details. I gather that by being “vampirized” and “stalked” you are referring to a colleague who has taken advantage of your friendship, perhaps plagiarizing your works or using your friendship for advancing their personal career. The fact that they sound like drug-addicts is not promising either.

Whatever is the case, it is clear that you have surrounded yourself with people that are detrimental to your well-being and your creativity.  But as bleak as your surroundings may look, it is very important for you to know that they don’t represent the totality of the art world: there are valuable people out there that will value and support you as a friend and as artist. Your job is to find them and surround yourself by them in a better environment. Whether that means to simply cutting all ties to your torturer, or to move to another neighborhood, town, or country, is only that only you can decide. But this change will likely require that you drastically change your life as it is- expand your professional circles of friends and acquaintances, seek out the individuals you admire, build a group of people who share your same values.  Usually we blame the others for our own inability to change our situation, but as you yourself suggest this situation has now become untenable and you are the only one who can change it.

Your priority right now should be to sever all ties from those who have caused you this aggravation, and have the discipline not to contact them again.  You can’t move on to meet and develop good relationships because you are too involved with the poisonous ones.  Finally, I suggest that your focus should be to make art, not to worry what others think about you. This focus will ultimately be rewarded.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

The Estheticist is a free ongoing service of art consultation around practical, philosophical and ethical issues around the visual arts profession. To ask a question, email estheticist [ at ] aol.com. Participants accept that their questions may be used for a printed publication that will serve as a professional development tool for emerging professionals in the arts. Your question will be confidentially and the question will appear as anonymous unless you specify otherwise.

Dear Estheticist,

Recently I wrote a critical review about an artist. Just three days before this review was published, the dealer who represents this artist had invited me to submit an exhibition proposal for his gallery. I was very happy. However after the review went online, the artist told me that he and his dealer were very upset. I wrote to the dealer, but I never hear back from him. What should I do?

Multitasking Curator

Dear Multitasking Curator,

You are experiencing the inconvenient world of trying to be both a critic and a curator (That’s your first mistake).  There is a reason why critics usually don’t curate exhibitions and why curators shouldn’t spend their free time writing criticism— both things are not very compatible and I have yet to see someone who can pull both of them off spectacularly well.  Now, assuming that your review was negative (since otherwise I doubt both dealer and artist would have been upset), it does appear  hypocritical to dis a gallery in public while at the same time expecting them to open their space to you (second mistake). If they would indeed give you the opportunity and you did curate a show there, one couldn’t help but wonder how come you are willing to work with a gallery that you publicly hold in such low regard.  Furthermore, it is quite understandable that if the dealer doesn’t feel supported from you he would not feel precisely compelled to support you in return. Not all of us are good Samaritans. I am afraid that there is not much you can do about this situation but to try to mend fences over time with the gallery. For starters, writing a positive review wouldn’t hurt.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Estheticist -

I need time to make art. I need money to make art. I need time to make money.

When I take time to make money, I dont have time to make art. But I have money

to make art. But with only money to make art and no time to make art, then I can

not make art. How does this vicious cycle end?

Cheers,

David

Dear David,

Thank you for your question. You are right: art takes time and money, but so does eating. Do you stop eating when you don’t have time and money?

People who want to be artists but aren’t really serious about making art, use the money/time excuse as a cop-out for giving up on making art. The reality is that when art is absolutely vital for your life, you will find the time to make it.   And while money certainly helps, it is not an absolute requirement, e.g. conceptual art.

I understand, however, that your question points out to how to achieve a satisfying amount of time and money to make art. The reality is that most of us will never arrive to that point, but there are three things we can do to get there. One is to take the structures within the art world that allow artists with this problem to have enough time and sustenance to make their art. That is what residencies are for, and to an extent, graduate school (in some situations).

Another thing you should do is to learn resourcefulness from people that are more disadvantaged than you.  Most handicapped people don’t give up living because they have a handicap; they instead learn how to live with their handicap and sometimes even turn it into their advantage. You should take the potential of every limiting situation. If you run out of paper, can you find another surface to make art on? if you only have one hour each day, can you dedicate it to build a long term project? You are an artist: what artists do is to be creative and thrive the more things get tough.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

***

Dear Estheticist,

As an artist who does performance and interactive work, most of the stuff I make becomes known through documentation, and I am very good at that. The thing is that I can easily make documentation look like the original performance or collaboration was spectacular, when in fact it may have barely happened or not been successful. A friend of mine criticizes me for doing this, but I way that as an artist the concept is what matters and its my right as an artist to present whatever I want whether its fact or fiction. Am I correct?

Public Artist

Dear Public Artist,

You certainly have the right to do and say whatever you like as an artist, in the same way that I have the right to say that I built a palace in the middle of the Amazon or that I fought in Vietnam. Your problem is that you are like a fiction writer whose audience thinks that he/she is a non-fiction writer. As such, you are just as good as your lies are. And while lying is key to art-making, if these lies don’t do much more other than conceal the defects of your interactive processes, then you better make sure that no one gets to see the actual events—ever (which I guess may be tough since theoretically I think you will need people to at least pretend they are interacting). Otherwise, the day they realize that what you do mainly exists in Photoshop you may find yourself that your career was also a fiction.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

Is it ok to make financial  profit from art that is about social injustice?

—Socialist

Dear Socialist,

It is not ok for anyone to benefit from social injustice in any way. This is why there are laws that prevent criminals from seeking financial profit to, say, write books about their crimes.  But to forbid an artist to sell a work about a particular social issue would then penalize those who are genuinely concerned on what’s happening in the outside world and instead reward those whose work avoids controversy. Furthermore, despite what you may hear,  social causes can benefit from the work of those who call attention to it. In such situation the motivation behind each art project about a delicate subject  must be interrogated, and until the full context of the work is understood it should not be necessarily condemned as a cinical strategy or  praised as a heroic act.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

I’m 35, I have a solid resume, and for the most part I’ve been able to maintain full-time artist status (largely due to artist residency programs/fellowships) since getting my MFA seven years ago.  My work is contemporary and conceptual, though not very marketable.  I have been fairly successful with promoting visibility of my work, but I need more.  How can I get a solo museum show instead of all these University galleries and non-profit spaces?

How can I get nominated for grants like Louis Comfort Tiffany award, Artists Legacy Foundation, Nancy Graves Foundation?  I realize the answer lies in needing my work seen by leading curators in the big cities- how can I do that?

Hunger Artist

[the inquirer enclosed a webpage listing extensive residencies, resume, etc.]

Dear Hunger Artist,

You certainly have lots of experience and developed a substantial body of work. And that, interestingly enough, is a problem in your case. Why? Because the way you brought yourself there was through residencies and the university gallery circuit. Which is great, but you must break that pattern if you want to move on. To use a very pedestrian, but accurate, metaphor, think about people who want to lose weight: no diet will ever work if it doesn’t involve a substantial change of lifestyle. In your case, my suspicion is that because you are so good at getting residencies and shows at smaller university and non-profit spaces you continue doing that with the fear that if you don’t do it then your career will end.  It won’t. But it certainly is taking a great deal of time to you to attend all these residencies and producing the kind of work that one produces in a residency. I suggest that you become more selective as to the residencies you attend: only go to the best ones. Same goes for the small university shows, which at this stage in your career will do little, if anything, to boost your reputation. Plan a solo museum exhibition, even if there is no museum yet to take it: it is important that you start visualizing your work in that way.  Then if your goal is to  move to the next level, you need to set your views on the programming of the museums and institutions that produce them. That also means to become more familiar with the people around them and the things they debate and discuss. You may not have to move to New York or London to do this, but it would certainly help you more to make an effort to become more involved in New York than attending a few out of the way residencies. Make an effort to get out of there and build a resume of shows in Europe and other places. By showing an international profile will you  likely become more visible to the people at home who make the decisions about the grants that you seek. And also don’t convince yourself that your work is not marketable: the reputational economy is just as important in the art world, and it is not dependent on whether you make sellable work.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

***

Dear Estheticist,

Is it important for galleries to participate in art fairs (Scope, Red Dot, The Armory show, etc.)? It this the “gateway” into the active art market? Assuming that the role of the gallery is to promote and engage the public, if a gallery chooses not to partake in fairs, aren’t they doing their artists a great disservice? Is it extreme to say that a gallery that is not included in fairs, simply does not exist?

I represented by a gallery that does not participate in fairs, and has not sold any of my paintings. I barely receive correspondence from the owners. Am I wrong to feel under promoted? I do not mean to sound like a disgruntled art snob, but perhaps I am confused on the appropriate gallery/ artist relationship. Even having attended art school, I am still perplexed by the inner workings of the market place.

Regards, Andrea D.

Dear Andrea,

Regarding galleries participating in art fairs: yes, it is important for them to participate in these events.  There are a few galleries, however, who have a built clientele and reputation to an extent that they don’t have the need to be out there, but these tend to be very established galleries. For the most part, young galleries are expected to be active and maintain an international profile. Participating in international art fairs is the natural way to do it. Those galleries that don’t invest that way indeed end up going under the radar and remaining mostly local enterprises. So yes, it doesn’t help you as an artist if your gallery doesn’t take your work anywhere, but most importantly, if they don’t do anything to compensate that lack of support. It is telling when a small gallery doesn’t participate in any fairs: it means either that they have limited resources or ambition, or that they don’t have the cache to be accepted into the professional art fair circles. Either way, those are troubling signs.

Second: the reason an artist works with a gallery is to have an advocate for the work that will promote it and introduce it to the market. If neither of those things are happening at all, then you may be better off without representation. No gallery is better than being represented by a bad gallery. And by letting yourself being represented by a bad gallery, you are preventing the possibility of a better gallery that truly relates to what you do to come by and take you on.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Hi Estheticist,

I am an artist who is looking for a place to live. I have lived the third world all my life city and obtained an MFA. Now, I have the chance to do another MFA which is waiting for me in a first world city (Oxford), but I have no money to move and live there. The government and the art institutions in my country do not think I am good enough to invest in me.

Should I go or should I stay in my current city even I have no friends, no fame (I don’t even want to be famous) not political affiliation, no institution that looks for me —so what would you recommend? ( the master program in this first world city is not even famous). What should I do? Go to this master in the first world, ask for a loan to the bank? work hard there? Please help!

Sincerely yours,

Veronica

Dear Veronica,

I believe your instinct to leave is correct, but you need to clarify to yourself what is it exactly that you are looking for. It also looks like you think that pursuing a second masters as your only escape route. Is it really another degree, is it to become a better artist, is it to get connected with the art world, or is it just to escape at any cost?

Change is always desirable, but moving to another country to study at a place that you don’t even consider that worthwhile, and without money, can be a recipe for disaster. Not only you risk attending an unimpressive school, but you will expose yourself to very harsh financial sacrifices that will leave you in deep debt or will force  you to work to an extent that your sustenance will take precedence over any learning experience. So, you need to leave, yes, but you’ve got to have a plan.

It is true that master degree programs provide you with a structure from which to develop. But before you ask for a giant bank loan, what I recommend is that you consider other options than an expensive first-world masters from an undistinguished university— especially because you already have a degree. You may benefit more from doing three short residencies in cities with rich art life. You can apply to a residency and have a chance to get it all covered. The rent in Berlin is cheap and you would be exposed to a lot of great art activity. Buenos Aires is also affordable and the art scene is growing there. And if you don’t want to go to an art world capital, then you should consider going to a culturally charged place that would be a great inspiration for your work. If you do those initial short-term excursions, you may be surprised with what you find. Most importantly, you will have a chance to develop relationships in those places and it may help you in the future to do a more determined, and informed, move back there, or elsewhere. And maybe even, even if you don’t want it, become famous.

sincerely,

The  Estheticist.

***

Dear Estheticist:

Your ad intrigued me. I’m actually curious about what answer you give to your sample question: How DOES one enter into the biennial circuit?

Many thanks!

Matilda

Dear Matilda,

The answer is simpler than what you may think.

People think that the genres of visual art are photography, sculpture, performance, etc. but that’s not true. That belongs to the XXth century.

The XXIst century genres of visual art are: museum art, biennial art, gallery art, academic art, and so forth.

Ok, I am exaggerating, but I hope you will get my point. To understand what I mean you simply need to go to museums, biennials, and galleries, and pay attention to the kind of work that is being shown in those places, and the way they speak to each other, and the way that curators build narratives with them (that is their own curatorial narratives). These works have certain characteristics. Works that enter museum collections are precisely, collectable. Works that exist in galleries are usually sufficiently self-contained that they can be easily collected. So-called “biennialist” artists, like gymnasts who go to the olympics, are those trained in the language of biennials, which tends to be more of the complement to what you see in museums: less collectible, more site-specific, more experimental, and yes, more spectacular. My point is that there is a sensibility in the exhibition conditions of the biennial that tend to be different from other places (that is, they usually happen in culturally-interesting cities that only on those occasions become the center of the art world like Venice, Istanbul, Sao Paulo,etc, they are visited by a sophisticated, usually more intellectual public than the one that goes to art fairs, they tend to be more about politics than about the market, etc), and artists who participate in these events are usually aware of these conditions, OR their work simply fits naturally within them and curators who select them recognize that.

This is not to say that an artist can’t exist in museums or biennials simultaneously, of course, but in those cases their work has shown enough range that it can exist and function in those various registers.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

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Estheticist -

What is more important – To be a husband and a father and not a successful full-time artist, which means you may resent your children and wife. Or, to be a successful full-time artist with no love-of-your-life and no children?

Cheers,

DGH

Dear DGH,

Some people will tell you that one has to sacrifice everything for art. This comes from the romantic cliché statement that all art must come from suffering. This idea was critiqued as early as the late XIXth century by Nietszche in “The Birth of Tragedy”, where he argues that in order to transcend nihilism one needs to balance Dionysian and Apollonian aspects of life. (Dionysian being closer to irrational, chaos and feeling, and Apollonian being closer to rationality, order and control).

The problem that we usually face as artists, and as humans in general, is not understanding what fulfillment is all about. Yes, for an artist what appears the perfect picture of fulfillment is to have a successful career and have a family around who will care about you. But what is success to you, and is children and spouse the answer to happiness?  Part of the problem, according to psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihaly, is that we are too egocentric to understand what is good to us. Csikszentmihaly, who is a lead thinker in the field of positive psychology, did a thorough study of what makes people feel happy. He discovered that when we are the most happy is when we are in a state that he described as “Flow”, a kind of deep concentration where our ego goes away.  If you were to translate this idea into art making, you may recognize the feeling of “Flow” in the process of making an artwork. The key is how to be able to arrive to conditions in your life that will allow you to reach a level of flow on a regular on the most frequent basis. These conditions will vary with every person: for some the stability of a relationship actually is beneficial for a successful career; for others, the emotional investment of a relationship is too distracting for making art. You have to find the combination that may best suit you. What you can be certain, however, is that the answer does not lie on whether you acquire only one or the other or both: it is on whether you can find the right balance or work and life to feel fulfilled.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

***

Dear Estheticist,

Is it possible to sustain a successful career as an artist, curator, and arts administrator all at once? Or is it necessary to choose just one?

Sincerely,

Overextended in the Art World

Dear Overextended,

The answer is that while it is possible to joggle different functions in the art world, you have to eventually choose one.

There are first the issues of profession and then the issues of perception. Let’s start with the professional part. First of all, being an artist is completely different than being a curator, arts administrator, art historian, critic or collector, because art making is not a profession: it is a way of life, a calling, that if pursued seriously affects everything else.  Because of this reason it is possible to do side activities besides your art, but you have to never forget that your artwork is the central focus of your life.  As you may know, some artists do curatorial work, but that is ultimately an incompatible activity the more you progress in your profession— you would eventually have to make a choice. Being an administrator, or an educator, is far more compatible, as you don’t are less likely to enter into the binary situations of exhibitions- either you are the one who gets exhibited or the one who curates the exhibition.

Then we come to the issue of perception. Even when you are perfectly clear about the balance and focus in your career(s), the art world (and particularly the New York art world) has a hard time seeing individuals as fulfilling more than one function. In some small countries and cities, where there art scenes are smaller, it is more common to fulfill several roles, but ultimately again one thing has to give way to the others. You may undermine  yourself when people see you doing many things at once— they either will assume that you are hopelessly scattered or that you are not serious about either one of the things you do.

On the upside, because professional demarcations are somewhat artificial, it will serve you well to have experience in other areas, and more and more you can see individuals who are able to translate their expertise in one area successfully into another. But again, you will need to choose what is it that you really want to do and make sure people know that is your objective.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

***

***

please write to the estheticist!

“You may ask any questions. I may not know the answer but I can certainly respond to them.”

John Cage at a lecture at the Art Institute of Chicago, March 1, 1992

The Estheticist is a free ongoing service of art consultation around practical, philosophical and ethical issues around the visual arts profession. To ask a question, email estheticist@aol.com. Participants accept that their questions may be used for a printed publication that will serve as a professional development tool for emerging professionals in the arts. Please specify if you want to remain anonymous in your request.

QUESTIONS TO THE ESTHETICIST

July 2010

Dear Estheticist,

As a an educator, should I be encouraging my students to make what I think is truly challenging work or work that will be easily consumed and integrated within a professional or academic market? Where does the greater responsibility lie, to each student and their livelihoods or to my future hopes for society?

please don’t answer “both”

Encouraging Educator,  San Juan, Puerto Rico

Dear Encouraging Educator,

You are making that assumption that by encouraging your students to make truly challenging work you will negatively impact your students livelihoods, which I am not certain is the case. But let’s set aside financial considerations for a minute and think about a few comparisons: Should a law professor teach his students to be efficient crooks so that they can quickly ascend to become the next corrupt government or should he teach them to fight to defend social and civil values? Should a medical student rather learn boy scout first aid techniques or how to do heart surgery?

As an arts professional, you are entrusted with the education of young people who are easily impressionable.

At a first glance, making commercial work may seem to them a more viable career opportunity; in reality, it only turns them into mediocre individuals who will never know any better. As their professor, it is your duty to show them that commercial success in art is a possible byproduct but by no means the sole goal, and that success in art lies beyond making money. You should teach them to be the best artists they can possibly be, as if you were teaching yourself. If that entails making challenging work, and questioning art to its roots, that’s then how it should be.  Teach them what you with you would  have been taught as a young student. Make them better artists than you. If they so choose, later on, to descend into commercial mediocrity, that will be their choice.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I recently curated a group show at an alternative space and an important review was written for a major weekly publication. The critic missed a lot of key points about specific artworks, (i.e. omitting names of collaborators, misquoting artists) and also seemed to misunderstand the participating artists and my approach to the medium at hand. I’d like to set the record straight. Is there any way to try and correct the misconceptions or do I just let the critic lie?

Sincerely yours,

Curators Anonymous

Dear Curators Anonymous,

No one can do anything about a critic’s opinion, but if the critic misquoted, gave misinformation or mischaracterized any other factual aspects of the show, by all means you must respond to correct that situation. This should be done in the traditional way of writing a letter to the editor. You may also try to do it in other ways, clarifying those points in an open letter for instance. This second option has its consequences, as you risk indirectly drawing more attention to this critic’s opinion more than it should. At any rate, however, you should stick with debating the factual aspects of this critic’s review, and not on the more subjective take on, say, your curatorial angle.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

How do I ask for credit to an ex-boyfriend with which I have done long and intensive collaboration, which includes a video in which I perform and a costume if he uses the footage in all situations?  How do go about explaining that a collaboration in nature is with two and more people and that it is actually helpful to credit each other?  Since I am more involved in the art world it’s a little hard to explain these things to another person who has less experience but it’s very important to me that I have the credit for the work I did as I credit people I work with as an obvious automatic response.

Thank you,

Genevieve

Dear Genevieve,

Thank you for your interesting question.  Based on how you present the problem, you are right: you should receive some sort of credit for this piece. The way

you receive the credit would depend on how it was originated: if both of you came up with the idea, then it is a collaboration; if it was his idea and you helped, you should still receive some credit, eg. he should be credited with the concept and you with the costume, performance, execution, etc. In any case, yours is not a unique situation; many people who  work together (and sometimes ARE together) in what appears very spontaneous situations later on argue about issues of authorship such as this one.  It depends how far you want to take this, but one benevolent way to handle this is that you should share with your ex-boyfriend other examples of similar collaborations where both artists get credited (say, Christo and Jean-Claude, Claes and Kosje Oldenburg, Diller and Scoffidio, etc). Technically, you are legally entitled to sue your ex-boyfriend for using your image without authorization (assuming that no release form was signed). But you may not want to take your case that far, nor would it serve you much purpose. The best is to move on, let that be what it was, and learn from the example when you engage in future collaborations.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

How many viewers are enough?

Paul Ramirez Jonas

Dear Paul,

They will never appear to be enough.  But you will know they are too many when you lose sight of yourself.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Should I move to Detroit? It seems so…open. I like my fun part time adjunct jobs here in Chicago but feel like this could drag on forever (showing in friends apartments, teaching part time, renting.) Will things be different in the “D”?

Laura, Chicago, IL

Dear Laura,

Thank you so much for your question.

There are two main reasons why one moves to another city: because career opportunities are better, or because your personal situation will improve (quality of life, love interest, etc). You should ask yourself on whether either of those two areas will improve if you are to go to the big D. At a first glance, unemployment is really high in Detroit, so employment-wise it would be a challenge. It is true, however, that Detroit offers a very interesting and inspiring emerging art scene that, while smaller than Chicago, lies at the epicenter of social and cultural environment that is prone for the creation of very interesting art. But the main issue is, if you want change, why not real change? Move to Berlin? Los Angeles? New York? Buenos Aires?  They all have vibrant art scenes. The West Coast is very open (space-wise). Amsterdam is open too (mind -wise).  You are right: staying in Chicago will take you nowhere career-wise, but staying in the Midwest won’t change it either.

Best

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist:

Too often my viewers think my works of visual fiction are actually factual.

What is the most effective way to signal irony?

Beauvais, Knoxville, TN

Dear Beauvais,

Thank you for your question. The question for you is, why would you want your viewers to know the truth? Ignorance, in this case, is aesthetic bliss.  Think about the conundrum that every parent faces about when to tell their children that Santa Claus doesn’t exist- they eventually will come to the age to realize the truth, but  when parents break the news prematurely they cruelly and abruptly destroy a child’s world of magic and fantasy. As artist, you give your viewers the gift of a possible reality, and it is not your job to undo it for them. Let them figure it out on their own- most eventually will, and they will feel rewarded —even if they are infuriated by having been temporarily fooled, they will be delighted with themselves for having figured it out. And if for some reason they never do figure it out, they never deserved to know the truth in the first place.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

What should I wear for the opening of my solo show? Does the same dress code applies when I’m part of a group show?

Ramón

Dear Ramón,

Dress code at an opening is extremely important. What you are wearing often says more about your work than the work itself, because, let’s face it, no one looks at the work on the day of the opening, but everyone checks out what you are wearing.  For a solo show, it is common to overdo it (like wearing Prada), which would make you look like an amateur “solo show artist”. The best is to take your cue from the dealer, or curator- always dress a bit less flashy than them so they feel that they are the stars of the night (in the end, they don’t have the creative outlet of making art, so let them have their little moment of fame). But don’t overdo it: to dress too casually is very 90s and it is too used by middle-aged artists, which you don’t want to do.  For a group show, you need to take the cues from your fellow exhibiting artists: they will hate you if you try to outdo them in wardrobe, plus you will look like you are desperate for attention. For that, it is best to dress as if you were just attending the show as a guest.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Halfway on the process of making an art piece I discover that another artist has already made a project so similar to mine that it will make my work seem like plagiarism.  Please consider that this is the only piece I’m producing specifically for a group show that opens in a few weeks.  There might not be enough time to abandon the idea and start something new.  My name is already printed in the invitations and catalogues.  What should I do?

Ramón

Panama City

Dear Ramón,

Thanks for your question. Here are a few considerations for you to ponder: 1. Would the trajectory of your work logically evolve into a piece such as the one you are producing?  If this is the case, you should not be afraid to make a piece that resembles another. Many works look alike, but the intentions, the context, and the reasons for which they are produced vary widely. Think about white on white paintings. It is more important that your piece has a natural connection with the work you have done in the past than whether it looks like someone else’s. One possibility would be to include a device (a handout, for example) that would help explain how you arrived to this particular solution.

2. Is the artist whose piece was made before of a previous generation? If so, you should dedicate the piece to that artist or make a Dan Flavin-esque reference to him/her (like “to Dan Graham, who is crazy but interesting”).  If the artist is a contemporary of yours, and furthermore, if his piece is in the same show, this would not be a good idea. At any rate, it is preferable to accept the coincidence frontally and honestly than pretending to be surprised about it.

If, on another hand, this work is not logically connected to what you have done in the past, and this other artist exists in competition with you, I suggest that you just pretend that you intentionally made this piece just to fuck around with him.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Are artist residencies really the only answer?

If so, why did Smack Mellon reject me?

Jin

Dear Jin,

Artists residencies are no solution to having an art career, if that is what you mean. They are a bit like drugs- they are addictive, they make you feel good and productive, and on a limited dose they do help, but soon you can become a residency junkie, floating from one residency to another, like those people in universities who like the idea of being a student forever. As a result, those artists who are constantly in search of residencies to get a career forget to get a life. And the problem is, if you don’t have a life, you don’t have a subject to make art about, and your work will start looking like  bland, flavorless and generic residency art.  In this sense, it is healthy that we don’t get accepted into every single residency we apply to.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Here’s my question- what is a good way for a curator to sustain meaningful relationships with artists over time AFTER exhibiting their work? Sometimes it feels like the exhibition planning stage is an intense period of collaboration and then once it’s over we move on to the next project and part ways.

Best,

Julie, Chicago, IL

Dear Julie,

Thank you so much for your question.  The answer is simple: most artists want to stay in touch with curators after doing a project and most do. However, artists are strange specimens who can often display little generosity in their interactions with people who they don’t see as immediately being able to further their career, and this is why you may feel that after working with an artist this artist may feel that you are a “been there, done that.” The best thing is to be direct with them: tell them that you want to have an ongoing dialogue, that you are interested in their work, and that you hope that you two may share a career-long professional dialogue.  Most experienced artists understand this perfectly and will respond gratefully; the young ones who are getting started and still feel they are the hottest thing in the universe will eventually come around and understand the dynamic, but it is for the curator to set the ground rules, so that not every time that you ask information for a project it will mean that you will give them a show.

And in the case of those who may ignore your reaching out for a deeper dialogue or demand a completely utilitarian relationship, the question then for you would be: why bother?

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

How can a curator answer every single email to every single artist who drops an email to her/his inbox? Is it ok not to answer?

How can a curator raise money possibly for every artist that she/she wants to work with or in need?

How can a curator make sure that the money s/he raises in a museum that that money goes to for what it is raised for?

Can curators monopolize access to the part of the world that they are thoroughly informed about? Whose information is that anyway?

How can a curator get out of his/her “connector” mode and share his/her resources with other professionals locally and internationally without losing his/her “edge” and knowledge pool?

How can a curator deal with professionals in parts of the world that immediately steal/mimic his/her models, his/her “artists” or content or prior modes of knowledge production?

How can a curator rise professionally without aligning herself with power structures, power artists or author-ship driven curators?

How can a curator rise professionally without being power obsessed, being an ass whole, or being a bitch?

Can there be curator-angels? Are there prior examples?

How can a curator embrace both the Antiquity and Contemporary Art World?

Is it ok for a curator to be nice to her/his assistants interns yet appropriate their work?

Thank you very much.

Istanbul curator

Dear Istanbul curator,

Thanks for writing. You really had a lot of questions. Here are your answers.

How can a curator answer every single email to every single artist who drops an email to her/his inbox? Is it ok not to answer?

It is not ok to not answer. Ignoring an artist’s legitimate inquiry via email is a sign of arrogance and pretentiousness. Best practice, if unable to answer each email individually, is to have a series of readymade responses, such as, “thank you for making me aware of this material, I will take a look at it but as you may know I receive many requests every day and may not be able to give you a full response.” In the case however, of annoying artists who pester you every day, you are not obliged to answer every time, and it is perfectly fine to let them know that your inbox cannot sustain a thousand exhibition announcements from them. Goes without saying of spam- just block them on your email list.

How can a curator raise money possibly for every artist that she/she wants to work with or in need?

You can’t- you have to pick and choose your funding battles. As curator you should make a short list of those projects that you are willing to spend your political capital on. That said, you are not responsible to find funding for every artist- you are their supporter, not their mother.

How can a curator make sure that the money s/he raises in a museum that that money goes to for what it is raised for?

You can’t, unless if you are the director. In that case, you need to fundraise from the outside- that is, work with a foundation that will give the money directly to the artist instead of the institution (many private and government foundations work that way).

Can curators monopolize access to the part of the world that they are thoroughly informed about? Whose information is that anyway?

It is not cool, nor possible, for curators to colonize thematic or geographic areas of the world. To think you can do it is delusional. Information belongs to no one. Being territorial, furthermore, is a sign of insecurity, not only in curatorial but in every field, and it does not go unnoticed when a curator is protective of a particular area or subject.

How can a curator get out of his/her “connector” mode and share his/her resources with other professionals locally and internationally without losing his/her “edge” and knowledge pool?

You have no obligation to do your fellow curator’s homework. But you can always provide raw material to them, inasmuch as they will also reciprocate with you. In general, generosity breeds generosity.  It is also perfectly fine in some circumstances, when someone seems particularly needy, to suggest a consultant fee for your advise.

How can a curator deal with professionals in parts of the world that immediately steal/mimic his/her models, his/her “artists” or content or prior modes of knowledge production?

Documentation, documentation, documentation. There is nothing you can do if a curator replicates exactly the same show that you did a year ago. But you can let everyone know that you were there first. And then, if you did your job, everyone will know who is the plagiarist.

How can a curator rise professionally without aligning herself with power structures, power artists or author-ship driven curators?

If by “rising professionally” you mean becoming one of those on top of power structures, or an author-curator, you will have to engage with those structures. But you can create rules of engagement that will preserve your integrity and do not devolve into professional prostitution. To achieve that will prove your true talent as curator, and as social mediator.

How can a curator rise professionally without being power obsessed, being an ass whole, or being a bitch?

There is the misperception that all powerful curators are all those things, and it is not true. The truth is, many factors – such as luck, which you will need- are out of your control, and regardless of how hard you try most wont make it to the top. But if you make it to the top by being an asshole, you don’t deserve to be there anyway— you don’t even deserve to exist. This has again to do with what you mean by “rising professionally”. In my view, and I bet in the long view of history, the curators that will matter are not the ones on top of the most famous institutions, but the ones who curate the best exhibitions. So, please do not sell your soul to the devil.

Can there be curator-angels? Are there prior examples?

But of course there are. Paulo Herkenhoff in Brazil is a teddy bear, also perhaps the most influential curator right now in Latin America. Elizabeth Smith, now chief curator of the Art Gallery of Ontario, is a wonderful person and great curator. Stacy Switzer, director of Grand Arts in Kansas City, is the sweetest person and incredibly talented, independent and intelligent.  They are around- don’t think that curators need to be bad people. Only mediocre ones are.

How can a curator embrace both the Antiquity and Contemporary Art World?

It can be done, but the art world is not ready for them, because most in the art world are culturally illiterate about anything that happened before Duchamp.

Is it ok for a curator to be nice to her/his assistants interns yet appropriate their work?

No.  There is no replacement for giving credit where credit is due. If the assistant did the research, that’s exactly how you credit them. If the assistant produced the installation, you say so. And if your assistant curated the show, he/she should be listed as the curator, and you as the assistant.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

What should my artist statement look like for grad school applications? Should it be limited to one page?

Rachael

Dear Rachael,

Keep it short and concise, one page.  Be honest, but please avoid commonplace statements. Do not copy fancy words that you don’t understand from books, nor do try to play the game of  ”I am going to write what I think they want me to tell them” because there is no way you will win it. Reviewers usually have read a million artists statements before yours and can detect a contrived statement from a mile away (I know I can).

Do the following exercise: write three art statements. One of them should be the one that truly describes who you are and what you believe in. The other two you should write it imagining that you were someone else (a friend, colleague, etc). As you write the three statements, think about what makes them different from each other. Then show the three statements to other people to look at and ask them which one best describes who you are. If they all point to the one that you wrote imagining yourself, then you are good to go. If not you have to go to the drawing board.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

If an artwork is in a crate in a storage facility in Long Island City, is it

still an artwork?

Put away,

Paul

Dear Paul,

You ask very interesting but complex questions, so here we will have to get a

bit more philosophical. According to Bishop Berkeley, one of the great English

Empiricists, nothing exists unless it is being perceived by someone. Then,

Ortega y Gasset, on the other hand, said that  our behavior is constructed under

assumptions that we have regarding the existence of things. For example, when I

wake up in the morning and prepare myself to go out to start my day, it is

Because I am assuming that the world is still the same than when I went to bed

the day before, that when I open the door the street will be there, etc.  So: if

we follow these ideas, what matters is not on whether the work still exists

physically, because it does exist in our minds, and continues influencing our

behavior. Let’s say the caves of Altamira are an artwork. Most of us haven’t

been to Altamira to corroborate they exist or are still there, yet one can say

they continue exerting their influence.  And even when they vanish, due to

accident or duration, they are still artworks in people’s mind.  If a

performance piece is stored away in our memory, isn’t it the same than when a

physical art work is on a storage facility?

Sincerely

Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

Thanks, that was very helpful, but it leads me to the inevitable question:

If a tree falls in a Museum, is it an artwork?

Yours

Paul

Dear Paul,

Trees provoke two kinds of noises by falling. One, which is less important, is the actual noise of falling. Second, more important, is who yelled (if anything) “tree falling” before or after the fall. (“tree falling” meaning “this is art”). Then you have three possibilities:

1. When no one yells anything after the fall, then the fall is invisible and inaudible to everyone. The tree vanishes.

2. If the museum was the one who yelled “tree falling” (before or after, it doesn’t matter) many people will hear it. It will be an artwork (whether its good or not it doesn’t matter: the noise is there to stay and the reaction it will provoke is unavoidable). Yet, the next generation who wasn’t there to hear the first or second sounds may never know it happened in the first place unless the second part of #3 happens (see below).

3. If the one who yelled wasn’t sanctioned by the museum, the falling will be an artwork, but very few people may hear him/her, so few people will see. It will barely exist. But it may crawl here and there in someone’s memory. If lucky, the tree will take root and grow on enough people’s minds. If it cannot be uprooted from them, it is likely that one day it will be planted, as a monument, in the museum.

Sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I often find it hard to write my own artist statement.  Could you advice on how to make this easier.  Is there some sort of template that I can follow?

Ramón

Dear Ramón,

Don’t follow templates- there is nothing more horrid than reading the typical statement using the same words and unpronounceable terms.

Here are a few ideas though:

- Ask three people who know your work best to describe your work in one paragraph. Use those paragraphs as a guide to discuss your work

- Write three statements- one of an artist you truly admire, one of an artist you truly abhor, then write yours. In writing your statement, think

about how your work differs from the other two.

-have a curator or artist friend interview you about your work. tape that interview. transcribe the parts that you liked onto the paper.

My favorite recommendation is , however: contest the notion of  artist statements. They are a terrible idea anyway. Do you think that Marina Abramovic or Gerhard Richter ever had to write artist statements? Come up with your own format: interview, short story, cooking recipes. Something that represents your work better

than the typical bureaucratic text, something that makes it more compelling to read. The whole reason why unimaginatively people request artist statements is because they need a way to know what the artist thinks of his/her work. If you do that without using that format, it shows you are a creative and thinking being.

sincerely

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I want to be famous, and I am open about it. What do you think I should do:

Which of these is the best way  to get fast recognition, wealth, and fame? and

if possible, to feel good about myself and what I do.

a. contemporary art (Star)

b. pop singer

c. actor

d. (super)model

my skills are very limited but I have good ideas.

I have no previous experience in any of these fields

thanks,

Anonymous (I havent decided on my stage name yet)

Dear Anonymous,

You are amongst the minority. Who wants to be famous anymore? Be chased by paparazzi and tabloids, die of an overdose while still young,

be immersed in legal battles with the many ex-spouses who will fight to take over your estate, being debated publicly over the kind of

Liposuction or plastic surgery you have conducted on yourself.  In any case, your avenues depend, as you may have guessed, on your abilities:

if you have a great body, supermodel is the solution; if you know how to fake feelings, you are an actor, if you can sing and move at least decently onstage,

you are a pop singer. If you can’t do any of these things, – that is, if you are not that attractive, you can’t really act, sing or move- then you are stuck with trying to become a contemporary artist, as that is the field where all the fame-starved and slightly untalented people go. The bad news: fame in the art world is so easy to get that it hardly counts as true fame. Like Maurizio Cattelan said, being famous in the art world is too easy for everyone because the art world is like, 2000 people. The good part: because art stars are second-rate celebrities, they are not so famous that are pestered with paparazzi, tabloids, ex-spouses, etc.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

What happens to the contestants on work of art after they get voted off? Are they still allowed to produce art?

Sincerely,

A concerned pop culture addict

Dear  Concerned Pop culture Addict,

Regardless of being winners or losers, basically all contestants, critics, self-appointed experts,  and any other people who are associated with the TV program should not  be allowed to be part of the Art World anymore. As they have clearly displayed their transparent obsession with fame and power over their interest in art, the appropriate thing for them to do (and for any of us to do to them) is to move to Las Vegas and work at a third-rate casino variety show, which is where they belong.

sincerely,

The Estheticist

Dear Estheticist,

I am an artist who has recently graduated from an MFA program in a medium sized American city. My schooling has given me the impression that in order to be a real, viable artist I now need to spend years of my life jumping around from residency to residency, if I am lucky enough to be invited to do so, in a state of constant mobility. This global nomadic life style is not my dream. I believe in knowing people and places for a long, long time. I would like to maintain a sense of home. I accept that it is important to build a wide web of relationships within the art world if one wants to succeed as a professional artist. But how do I do that without sacrificing the depth of relationship I have been building with the people and place where I live?

Sincerely,

Ariana Jacob

Dear Ariana:

Thank you for your question. You are absolutely right in not wanting to sacrifice your immediate surroundings and the people who are closest to you in exchange of your career. And by no means you should or need to sacrifice them. However, the artist profession does imply certain negotiations with your immediate realm.

The globe-trotting phenomenon in contemporary art is fairly recent. Back in the 60s, artists didn’t transport themselves that much— they mainly stay put. Then in the 70s, 80s, and specially the 90s, artists became biennialists, cultural tourists. While this movement has been criticized in the sense that many artists make banal art about whichever locality they are in,  there are wonderful things about this unprecedented mobility: your work will be influenced by many and rich new ideas and cultures. To stay in the same place forever, unless you are Emily Dickinson (who rarely left her house), will likely isolate you and make your work self-absorbed. Today, it is important to get out of the house. Another thing you should be aware about is that the international network of the artworld is here to stay-  you will realize that wherever you go you will start finding familiar faces. So it is possible- and necessary, to find people of your generation (artists, curators) who live in different cities and maintain an artistic, and friendship, dialogue with them. Those relationships will also last forever.   And then, as an artist, you will become a citizen of the world. You will arrive to Venice and the Rialto Bridge and cafe Florian will feel like coming back home; you may go over the years to Mexico City and enjoy hanging out at the Covadonga where most artists meet. It will be a new kind of familiarity.

Furthermore, the years that follow your MFA are very important for you to be active. This is the time when you need to be out there exploring the world; that will change in 10 years. After that decade, artists usually become a bit more sedentary. So my recommendation is that you make yourself a clear plan of “travel action”. You don’t have to be a nomad- then you would become a residence addict, which is not productive or useful either. Pick and choose your residencies; if you go away, go far away, not to the next town.  Shoot for significant experiences that may help your development: go to the venice biennial, to sao paulo, new york. Go also to places that few in the art world go to: Zagreb,  Beirut, Bogota. You will find incredible artists communities there.

One last word: as long as you are aware what is your home base, you shouldn’t worry. But you should be prepared to leave it every now and again. Remember that the main reason we leave a place is to rediscover it.

sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

Is it ethical for an artist either to offer a work of art as a gift to a curator (for example, after the decision for inclusion in a show, or after the show ends), or offer a reduced sale price for a work of art to a curator?

Artist donor,

Dear Artist donor,

While many do it, it is unethical to give any gift to any curator as a quid pro quo for any favor.  In the long run, an artist (and curators, for that matter) gain respect amongst their peers for their integrity not only as professionals but as individuals. To favor such practices only decreases the perception that others may have of you and will counterbalance any short-term benefits that you may derive from engaging in such sleazy arrangements. Similarly, you should also think twice about curators – or even dealers- who expect to get a work of yours in exchange of including you in a show. Not only is that completely unacceptable, but likely those are not very professional curators nor people one should aspire to work with.

There can be, however, instances where, if you have a sincere friendship or dialogue with a curator (or dealer, etc.) that has developed over time, that you may want to give a work of yours as a gift, and it may be entirely appropriate. But as with any gift, one should never give with the ulterior purpose to receive something in exchange.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

I’m a choreographer. Recently I’ve noticed that some artists who’s work is

basically choreography have had large scale shows and sold pieces to major

museums for a lot of money. How can I transition into this situation. Or is this

trend already over?

Thanks,

Melinda

Dear Melinda,

Thank you for your question. Your observation is correct: many choreographers indeed have made work that goes into the visual art world and thus is purchased and collected as if they were paintings.

Unfortunately, there is no set “strategy” to make a choreography work enter into the visual arts market. What you see happening is essentially that some artists are working in ways that speak to issues that are directly connected with the visual arts realm, through theoretical angles (eg. issues around sculpture for example) or political/gender issues. Because these particular works speak to other artists in that discourse, and /or because they have been influential to other artists and periods of visual art, ( and many of those artists have presented their work in the context of museums or galleries in the past) these pieces are deemed as belonging to the narratives in contemporary art museums. To simply plant a choreography in a museum wouldn’t do the trick, as you would need to first insert the piece in that dialogue, or, like Tino Sehgal, take elements of choreography and turn them into a conceptual art product.

sincerely,

The Estheticist.

Dear Estheticist,

I am writing with an ethical/aesthetic question about collaboration.  have collaborated for many years with a more famous artist than myself and I feel that I’m not being credited properly for my contributions to our shared work. Is it appropriate for me to ask that we get equal billing? How would you recommend I broach this issue?

Do you think it’s tacky to have to ask?

Signed,

Better half of a collaboration

Dear Better Half of a Collaboration,

You are right that these days the role of a curator falls into a gray area when the curator enters into production or collaborative roles with an artist. It is also true that in many collaborative situations the curator enters into this role in an unexpected way, sometimes having to do much more than what was originally expected. But by far the root of the problem lies in the little communication that exists between artists and curators regarding credit, and the shyness by many curators to always defer to the artist in these matters.  In these situations, it is absolutely correct to specify the kind of credit that you expect to receive from a collaborative project, but this should be stipulated before the project begins. If things change over the course of the project, then you should point to the artist how the project has evolved in a way in which you feel that now its a collaboration in which you are doing more than the usual curatorial duty. Also, regardless of how famous the artist is, you should not “ask”: you should hold your ground and stipulate how you expect to be credited before you proceed with the collaboration.

Sincerely,

The Estheticist

El proyecto de la conferencia combinatoria consistió en la presentación de 16 ponencias que conceptualmente y formalmente se integran gradualmente dentro de una sola, a manera de una fuga a 16 voces en cuatro tiempos. El evento duró aproximadamente media hora con cuatro breves pausas.  La jornada comenzó con 16 conferencistas haciendo presentaciones simultáneas en secciones distintas del museo de una duración de 8 minutos.  En la segunda ronda, los conferencistas se unen en pares, realizando 16 ponencias que integraron los temas que trataron en la primera ronda, pero manteniendo la misma duración de 8 minutos. En la tercera ronda los ponentes se unieron en grupos de cuatro, realizando una ponencia de la misma extensión que integró los cuatro temas anteriores, resultando en una ronda de ocho ponencias. En la cuarta ronda el grupos de dieciseis ponentes realizaron una ponencia colectiva, uniendo como antes todos los temas tratados. En cada fase, la integración de conceptos fue total.

The Combinatory Conference consisted in the presentation of 16 lectures that both formally and conceptually start to merge with each other, forming a fugue of 16 voices in four movements. The project started with 16 lecturers making simultaneous presentations in different sections of the museum, each lecture lasting 8 minutes. In the second round, the lecturers gathered in pairs with the goal to merge the content of their original corresponding lectures, but maintaining their merged lecture at 8 minutes (the topic of the resulting, “merged” lecture would need to be different from the original two, but would also need to incorporate them both). In the third round the presenters gathered in groups of four, presenting a lecture of the same extension that merged the four preivous topics, resulting in a round of eight simultaneous lectures. In the fourth round, the 16 lecturers made a collective lecture, unifiying as before all the previous topics. in each of the phases the integration of ideas and subjects was total.

Este proyecto surge la necesidad de cuestionar los modos en que la información the transmite como conocimiento en la era digital.  Hoy en día, gracias al internet, la información nos es accesible libremente de forma casi infinita, generando el problema de la carencia de filtros o métodos organizativos para resignificar esta información a manera de conocimiento o reflexión.  De la misma manera, los procesos cognitivos de hoy en día funcionan a nivel de multi-canal, como resultado del deficit de atención que se genera por estar bombardeado constantemente por información de todo tipo. Como resultado de estos fenómenos, estamos acostumbrados a vivenciar el mundo como una yuxtaposición de incongruencias y aún así darle sentido a nuestra realidad. Este proyecto busca reestructurar el formato pedagógico de la conferencia utilizando los principios combinatorios de las fugas barrocas de Johann Sebastián Bach, transponiendo el lenguaje musical a un lenguaje verbal y realizando una estructuras compositiva equivalente a las obras escritas para múltiples voces.

The project emerges from the need to question the forms in which information is transmitted as knowledge in today’s digital age. Today, thanks to the web, information is freely accessible, creating the problem of lack of filters or organizational principles to resignify this information into useful knowledge or reflecting. At the same time, our cognitive rewiring has made us used to work in multi-channel formats, thus giving meaning to our reality this way. This project seeks to restructure the pedagogical format of the lecture using the combinatory preinciples of Bach’s fugues, trasposing the musical language to  verbal communication and seeking an equivalent compositional structure for multiple voices.

La conferencia se presentó en el Museo Universitario de Arte Contemporáneo (MUAC) el 11 de abril del 2010, como parte de la exposición Jardín de Academus.Los participantes de la conferencia combinatoria fueron Pedro  Castillo, Dante  Barrios Avila, Pamela Zúñiga, Bernardo Sánchez, Emiliano Ortega, Marisol Maza, Elizabeth Frisas, Miriam Rodríguez, Santiago Espinosa de los Monteros, Gustavo Hernández, Maribel Escobar, Mercedes hinojosa, Violeta Solís Horcasitas y Andrea Santiago.

The lecture was presented at the Museo Universitario de Arte Contemporáneo (MUAC) on April 11,  2010, as part of the exhibition Jardín de Academus. The participating lecturers were  Pedro  Castillo, Dante  Barrios Avila, Pamela Zúñiga, Bernardo Sánchez, Emiliano Ortega, Marisol Maza, Elizabeth Frisas, Miriam Rodríguez, Santiago Espinosa de los Monteros, Gustavo Hernández, Maribel Escobar, Mercedes hinojosa, Violeta Solís Horcasitas and  Andrea Santiago.

Formato de las conferencias / Lecture format:

1.1.

Lo importante es tambien lo de afuera (o sobre las envolturas de regalos)

Violeta Solís Horcasitas

1.2

Encuentros: Fuerzas y Cuerpos

Andrea Santiago Páramo

1.3 El Hombre como animal simbólico

Mercedes Hinojosa

1.4 Cuando las imágenes se multiplican: el arte en la era digital

Elizabet G. Frias

1.5 La natación como posibilidad para la expansion del cuerpo humano

Marisol Maza

1.6 El perfil del Asesino Serial: el arte de matar

Pamela Zúñiga

1.7 Aspectos importantes en la nutricion de la vida diaria

Dante Barrios Ávila

1.8 La ciudad perfecta

Gustavo E. Hernandez

1.9 Inventar el espacio del agradecimiento: los ex-votos en México

Maribel Escobar

1.10 Curaduría y gestión cultural (o las artes visuales en búsqueda de su libertad condicional)

Santiago espinosa de los monteros

1.11 Ciencia ficcion y conflicto: frontera y colonialismo

Emiliano Ortega

1.12 Au’jourd hui: el París de hoy y siempre

Pedro Castillo

1.13 El baño: obsolescencia planificada y la estetica del desperdicio

Yaoci pardo

1.14 Sinsentidos de una prohibicion arbitraria: legalizacion de la marihuana

Bernardo sanchez

1.15 El por qué somos pura memoria

Miriam Rodriguez

SEGUNDA RONDA

2.1

El asesino como devorador de nutrientes ajenos

Pamela Zúñiga

Dante Barrios

2.2

Paris Oculto:

Capital de la gran caca

Pedro Castillo

Yaoci Pardo

2.3

La memoria de la prohibicion

Bernardo Sanchez /Miriam Rodriguez

2.4

Gestión y Conflicto

Emiliano Ortega Rousset

Santiago Espinosa de los Monteros

2.5

Navegar el oceano digital:

La publicidad del cuerpo y la imagen

Elizabeth Frisas y

Marisol Maza

2.6

El cuerpo como envoltura

Violeta Solís Horcasitas

Andrea Santiago

2.7

La apropiacion simbólica del espacio

Mercedes Hinojosa

Maribel Escobar Varillas

Gustavo Emmanuel Hernández Peña

TERCERA RONDA

3.1

El asesino es la idea

Yaoci Pardo

Pedro  Castillo

Dante  Barrios Avila

Pamela Zúñiga

3.2

Gestión de la memoria múltiple:

Iconografía navegable

Bernardo Sánchez

Emiliano Ortega

Marisol Maza

Elizabeth Frisas

Miriam Rodríguez

Santiago Espinosa de los Monteros

3.3

El cuerpo como espacio simbólico

Gustavo Hernández

Maribel Escobar

Mercedes hinojosa

Violeta Solís Horcasitas

Andrea Santiago

4.1

Ficcionator: La multiple ficcionalizacion de la individualidad y sus consecuencias

(una conferencia combinatoria)

What in the World is a site-specific project  for the first edition of Philadelphia’s festival Philagrafika. The project is an “unauthorized biography” of the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology of the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, an illustrious institution that has played a key role in the history of American Archaeology. The project consists in an installation at the Penn Museum recreating the TV set of What in the World, a series of documentaries, and a published book digging out little known stories around the museum’s remarkable curators and other unusual figures of its history, all of which played a key role in shaping the museum’s collections.

The project is inspired in a famous 1950s TV quiz show of the same title produced by the Penn Museum and conceived by its charismatic director Froelich Rainey. The program   would bring together a panel of experts to try to guess the origins of a series of mysterious artifacts in the museum’s collection. What in the World was a pioneering museum education project during the dawn of the telecommunications age. The current project includes the launching of a season’s worth of episodes, loosely formatted in the original television show’s structure.

The historical episodes examined as part of What in the World are the life stories of Maxwell Sommerville (1829-1924), professor at the University and collector of talismans and Buddhist items; Louis Shotridge (1882-1937), a Tlingit indian from Alaska who became a well known curator, ethnographer and controversial figure amongst his people;  John Henry Haynes (1849- 1910) a photographer turned archaeologist who became the unlikely leader of the first American expedition to the Middle East and  uncovered more than 20,000 cuneiform clay tablets in Nippur, loosing his mind in the process. Other stories include the mystery of the Julsrud collection, a group of clay figurines collected by the German businessman Waldemar Julsrud in Acámbaro, Guanajuato, Mexico during the 1940s and which include representations of dinosaurs, and the story behind the theft of a renowned crystal ball at the University Museum that once belonged to the Empress Dowager Cixi, the last female monarch of China.

Figure from the Julsrud collection, Acámbaro

By creating an “ anecdotal archaeology” of sorts on this archaeology museum, the project addresses the social role of curators in museums and the skewed narratives that curatorial voices often project onto objects.

Exhibition opening:Thursday, January 28, 2010, 5-7pm

An event on February 28th, with the participation of Mark Dion, will include a live recreation of a What in the World program as well as the launch of the What in the World book, publishe by Jorge Pinto Books.

For more information:

http://www.penn.museum/press-releases/694-multi-disciplinary-artist-pablo-helguera-creates-what-in-the-world.html

http://www.philagrafika2010.org

WHAT IN THE WORLD / BOOK EXCERPTS

FRONTISPIECE

Throughout the twenty or so years I have worked in the education departments of art museums, I have gradually become interested the biographical anecdotes, oral histories and archived or nearly forgotten stories—most of which are seldom visible or communicated to the public—about the generations of collectors, directors, curators and educators whose vision and interests have shaped the nature and tone of their institutions as well as their collections. This book contains a small group of biographical divertimentos connected to a museum with a particularly remarkable trove of such stories.

Most museums have a mission of educating through object-centered study, firm in the nineteenth-century belief that an object is a microcosm of a culture or an artwork a window to the world of an artist. What this focus often underplays is the fact that there are usually very subjective reasons—philosophical, personal, political—for the presence of an object or artwork at a particular museum, reasons why it was chosen by a particular person to represent a particular culture or art movement (or conversely, why certain objects or artworks are absent or not deemed important enough for inclusion).

In other words, what is often missing when the story of an artifact is told is the history not of its maker but of those who brought it to the museum—the objects’ “curatorial parents”— as well as of those who gave philosophical life to the museum by creating the interpretive frameworks that envelop these objects. The histories of museums are best revealed not through the objects they contain but through the histories of the individuals that brought them there. The Hermitage Museum’s collection can’t be explained without Peter the Great in the same way that the histories of the Guggenheim, The Frick Collection or the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum owe the peculiarities of their collections to their founders. But while founders usually leave their names at the door of the institution, the hand of its curators is more invisible, and most of them are forgotten after a generation or two.

Sometimes this alternative history is unexceptional or irrelevant, sometimes it is unsavory or even embarrassing, but it often is useful and even illuminating, shedding light on the prevailing ideas and values of the time the collection was created. Of all American cities, Philadelphia has perhaps the most illustrious history in the early era of museum making. Pierre Eugene du Simitiere opened his coin collection to the public under the name American Museum in 1782 in Philadelphia, and a few years later Charles Willson Peale opened the first natural history museum (also the first major museum institution) in the United States there. As one of the historically key centers for science in America Philadelphia has a history of strange collections. In 1858 Dr. Thomas Dent Mütter donated his collection of medical oddities to the College of Physicians of Philadelphia, thus creating the still existing Mütter Museum.

It is against this historical background that the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology emerged in the late nineteenth century. In the words of historian Steven Conn, the University Museum was “amongst the first institutions in this country—and probably the most ambitious—to create a separate space, both physically and intellectually, for the display of human artifacts apart from collections of natural history or specimens. Proposed by the University provost [William Pepper] as early as 1889, the University Museum, when it moved from temporary quarters to its new home in 1899, tried to do what the Peabody [Museum of Natural History, Yale University,] and the Field [Museum, Chicago,] had not yet done—occupy the space between science and art.” Aside from its central place in the history of American culture, the University Museum is a unique example of how individuals connected to a museum can leave a significant mark on the institution. The unusual cast of characters that formed the museum and helped give it shape during its first half-century of life run the gamut of eccentricity, ambition, idealism and even melodrama.

Thus the University Museum is, I thought, an ideal candidate for such an examination of its personalities through its collection. Its galleries and its objects are a collection of two tales: the one of the ancient culture that the curators sought to tell, and the unintended story of themselves and their vision. That is the story that I find the most attractive, perhaps because having worked in museums for so many years I am too used to hear the behind the scenes curatorial stories that don’t usually become common knowledge.

In the same way in which museums have two stories, this book also is a doubly subjective biography of the University Museum. On the one hand, it is an attempt to show how the personal interests and obsessions of certain individuals influenced the life of the museum; on the other hand it is my own subjective focus on a selected group of people that, to me, represent interesting aspects of curating, collecting, exhibiting and interpreting that are common to most museums. Seen through the prism of time, the subjects of these stories may appear naïve, egotistical and messianic. It is important to remember that the social and historical context in which they lived was drastically different from ours, and their efforts and accomplishments should be considered in relation to the realities they faced. The lives discussed here are remarkable, and they are worth remembering in connection to the objects they helped bring into public view.

I. THROUGH THE DRY ICE CURTAIN

FROELICH RAINEY, a dashing man in his early forties with dark hair and square jaw, is visibly nervous, sitting on a desk-like podium with a globe to his left. To his right is a small stage with three chairs in which three scholarly-looking men are sitting. Over them, white Styrofoam balls hang from the ceiling, which, lit from the bottom, have the appearance of a crude solar system. The lights darken. A large gray, tanklike television camera is before him. The cameraman zooms in on Rainey’s face. A voice comes from the cabin: “ready, action.” A red light goes on in the studio, an “On Air” sign lights up, and Rainey announces: “Welcome to What in the World.”

It is a Tuesday night in April 1950. Rainey has recently become director of one of Philadelphia’s most illustrious institutions—the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. The museum is only fifty years old, but it is considered to have one of the most important collections of archeological artifacts in the world. As director Rainey, follows the many charismatic figures who brought that collection together. It is time to prove himself, to bring the museum into the modern age.

Froelich Gladstone Rainey was born in River Falls, Wisconsin, in 1907, and raised on a cattle ranch in Montana. He first thought he would be a cowboy but soon developed an interest in writing. In his memoirs he wrote, “The idea of becoming an anthropologist had not occurred to me. I had it all figured out that I was the writer the world had been waiting for. So off I sailed to get the background to fulfill my destiny.” The nation’s economy was crashing in 1929 as Rainey boarded a commercial steamer in San Francisco. In his travels he had many interesting experiences: selling ten-gallon tins of kerosene along roadsides in the Philippines, spending a night in a Cairo jail for carrying a gun, being stranded penniless in Shanghai and supporting himself for a while as a gambler in Monte Carlo. Upon his return, Rainey did a distinguished academic career, obtaining a bachelors degree from the University of Chicago and doctorates in English from the American School in France and in anthropology from Yale, where he had studied West Indian Archaeology and worked at the Yale Peabody Museum as assistant curator between 1935 and 1937. In addition, the hyperactive Rainey became the first professor of anthropology at the university of Alaska between 1935 and 1942.

In 1944 Rainey joined the American Foreign Service and was assigned to the staff of the planned Allied Control Commission for Occupied Germany under Robert Daniel Murphy. He survived a brutal winter crossing of the North Atlantic, during which his convoy was savaged by storms and U-boat attacks, only to arrive in London as the first V-2 rocket bombs fell. After the war, Rainey would continue his relationship with the US government, commuting to Washington and working on the establishment of a branch of what would become the Central Intelligence Agency. But he wanted to go back to work in an academic environment.

It was in 1947 that the opportunity of leading a museum in Philadelphia presented itself. The museum had experienced a hiatus during the war, and with many vacant positions, an operation deficit and an interim director it desperately needed new energy and vision. Rainey, then forty years old, was recommended from various sides. He had an impressive resume: on top of his international experience, he had the academic credentials. The museum’s board of trustees selected him enthusiastically.

Rainey remained director for almost thirty years, until 1976, a pivotal period for the institution. Over the years he introduced new technologies for dating artifacts (some of which, including thermoluminescence dating, later came under attack), new exhibition techniques and even a “Brazilian coffee room” (a cafeteria) at the museum. Percy Madeira, who was president of the board when Rainey was hired, wrote in 1964, “Rainey seldom lets his imagination be inhibited by the practical difficulties inherent in a new idea”, adding later, “consequently, the Museum of today is very different from that of 1947.”

Rainey was a populist—“I have never been a dedicated scholar and disliked the label ‘intellectual,’” he wrote—and he was part of the first postwar generation of museum directors, which shared the belief that the education of the public is the civic role of the American museum. This democratized vision, plus an explosion of market-driven mass media, necessitated a change in the tone of museum scholarship.

In 1948 the director of education of the University Museum, Eleanor Moore, had the idea to produce educational programs about the museum for television. She asked Rainey to participate in one of the programs, and he had an epiphany. Rainey had witnessed the emergence of television in his youth, and he understood its language. He thought, why not invest in a TV program with good production values and bring the venerable collection of the University Museum into people’s homes? No one before had exploited the visual capacity of television to describe and introduce museum objects. With a team of producers Rainey conceived of a loosely organized game show that would bring a panel of archaeology experts and other noted personalities together to examine a variety of ancient objects and determine their origins and the characteristics of the cultures that created them. Rainey would moderate the series. One can only imagine how such an idea must have been met by the conservative wing of the museum—the older, set-in-their-ways curators and keepers of the various collections. But Rainey was relentless, and in 1950 the first series of programs was created.

An off-stage voice, which the panelists couldn’t hear but the audience could, introduced each one of the objects as it emerged on the screen through a curtain of dry-ice fog, accompanied by mysterious, exotic flute music. The panelists included celebrities and artists, along with curators of the University Museum (who weren’t necessarily at an advantage as many items were chosen from very diverse cultures and obscure areas of the museum’s holdings.) Viewers watched as they (usually) failed to pinpoint the exact period or culture to which the object belonged. Guests’ willingness risk such embarrassments speaks highly of their bravery and of Rainey’s persuasive powers.

The program was a huge success. In 1951 What in the World won a Peabody Award, the most coveted prize in television, for its “superb blending of the academic and the entertaining.” Soon the program was broadcast to eighty-nine stations in the CBS network. Rainey received lots of fan mail, much of which is in the archives of the University Museum. It appears that, remarkably, he personally answered every letter. “We are happy to know that you enjoy the program as much as we have fun making it,” he wrote. What in the World continued to be popular, cycling on and off the air for almost two decades. Eventually, though, its basic production values were eclipsed by big-budget shows, and the series was brought to a close. But Rainey and the museum were remembered for the program for decades, and the museum continued to convene What in the World revivals every now and then, as part of benefits or special events, until 1975.

+++

Sixty or so years after the first broadcast of What in the World, it is a hot summer in Philadelphia, in 2009. I cross a plaza full of falafel carts at Thirty-fourth and Spruce Streets and arrive for the first time at the University Museum. I am here to develop an art project for the museum, and the goal of this visit is to find some direction for my research.

Through a large gate is an open courtyard with a fountain and an agreeable group of trees. The architecture recalls the generation of Washington Irving, and Frederic Church’s Olanna—a fantasy combining a Moorish garden, a Romanesque church and an Italian palazzo. The architect was Wilson Eyre, Jr., who had taken a northern Italian Renaissance style as a departure point but had internationalized it, in keeping with much of the Victorian architecture of the time. The original project was incredibly ambitious: a group of buildings set in a nine-acre landscape, but construction stopped after thirty years, during the Great Depression. The engraving on the stone slab at the main entrance reads “Free Museum of Science and Art,” the original name of the museum, and is decorated with gatepost figures by Alexander Stirling Calder, the father of the famous twentieth-century American artist.

I walk through the museum’s Kress entrance, part of a modern expansion in 1971. Styled like many other museum spaces of the 1970s, the space is flanked by two giant totem poles. A remarkably well-postured man with earrings and a silver bracelet comes to courteously welcome me. His name is Bill Wierzbowski, the keeper of the American collection. Bill takes me through the museum for the first time. We go up and down stairs and up again, opening and closing doors. The museum is a maze of corridors, and some hallways are partially lit. There are a number of closed galleries and a few exhibits in the middle of repair. We pass sphinxes, Babylonian artifacts, African costumes, Greek vases. There is no air conditioning in most of the galleries, and surrounded by the dimly lit Mayan stelae and other artifacts in the midsummer heat, I feel as if I am in a tomb. As in most archaeology museums, some of the cases appear to have been unaltered since the 1960s. Their light greens and blues, the fonts in which the texts are set and the style of the mountings are all reminiscent of another era of museology. The cases are time capsules, not of the cultures they ostensibly contain and depict but of the curatorial vision of those cultures at the time they were designed. In that sense, the museum is a dual encyclopedia, of both the cultures it studies and how those cultures were perceived by our curatorial ancestors. In modern and contemporary art museums, that phenomenon is almost impossible to find: it would be like walking into The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York to find galleries as they were originally installed by Hilla Rebay, or finding galleries at The Museum of Modern Art, New York, that remain untouched since the times of Alfred H. Barr, Jr.

We walk into the archives, where Alex Pezzati, the museum’s archivist for thirty years, is waiting. The archive room of the University Museum has the feel of a grand nineteenth-century university library. Two levels of dark oak shelves contain hundreds of gray archival boxes documenting the more than three hundred expeditions that have been financed by the museum as well as the papers of many generations of museum workers. Alex’s desk sits on top of a platform at the end of the room, supporting an old computer and piles of files. I have been told that Alex, who is in his late thirties, fulfills the role of institutional memory for the museum, bearing insider knowledge of the near infinitude of stories hidden in the archives as well as the oral history that has been transmitted by generations of museum staff, many of whom are deceased.

I tell him that I am interested in the lives of interesting people who have passed through the museum. “Oh we have plenty of characters, that we definitely do,” he says, pointing at some of the portrait paintings on the walls of the large room. I don’t transcribe his remarks, but they go something like this: “That one over there is Sarah Yorke Stevenson, who became director. She really was a remarkable woman, a liberated woman from the Victorian era. She was, like, the first woman museum director ever. Well, I am not sure if ever, but she was considered the first in everything. I think she created the first museum studies program. That one over there was the provost who created the museum, William Pepper; they say he had an affair with Stevenson. That one over there is Maxwell Somerville—he definitely was a character. He would dress as a Buddhist to give tours, and then he collected engraved gems, a kind that no one was interested in, and created a whole department for it. Then there was Louis Shotridge, the Alaskan Indian, who became a curator here. He died under mysterious circumstances; they say there was foul play. And of course Hermann Hilprecht, the curator of Assyriology, who got into a famous fight with John Peters over the first expedition of the museum to Nippur. He was well connected, and when he got into a fight with the museum he left with the keys to the collection and took a bunch of stuff with him. There was Byron Gordon; they say his personality was as sharp as his moustache . . . ”

Alex goes through the stories quickly, and they are so complex and intertwined that it is hard for me to get a handle on any of them. I leave the museum extremely stimulated but also intimidated.

I spend that night with Helen Cunningham and Ted Newbold, two key Philadelphia philanthropists who have been involved with arts and culture in the city for many decades. When, during dinner, I mention my museum visit to Ted, he says, unprompted, “Oh yes, the University Museum. They used to have a TV program called What in the World. It was so fun to watch. Sometimes they would have competitions, and once I called in the answer and won! But then they had real archaeologists competing, and it was no fun anymore. Anyway, I don’t know why they ended it. Those were good years.”

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The New York Times dismissed What in the World as promoting a “stamp collector” mentality—equating knowledge to the ability to identify a given artifact. But others, like Dessart, defended Rainey’s project, saying that all education has to start somewhere, and that if the audience reached by this means was one that would have never been reached otherwise, that technique has a value.

The range of reactions about the show then is similar to today’s ongoing debate in museum education concerning “edutainment”—whether entertainment is a useful vehicle for an educational experience, or if attempts to entertain obscure or obliterate educational value. The answer, I think, depends on an institution’s educational goals and what one means by “entertainment.” Although it is true that some may be entertained by reading Shakespeare or Cervantes, the more common assumption is that entertainment means adopting a vegetative state in front of a TV screen. In this sense, when entertainment is paired with education, the implication that knowledge can be obtained with no effort is a proposition that, to most of us, may sound like the educational equivalent to diet pills for weight loss without exercising: intellectual growth is rarely a purely leisurely process.

But this doesn’t mean, conversely, that learning should be a dry and clinical process. Today, the term “engagement” is more favored in museums. The term describes an alert state of mind of someone who actively interacts with a particular reality in a way that is enticing as well as intellectually stimulating.

What in the World was a detective game in which the solution to the mystery is the true story of the object. In the surviving episodes, the simple but clever process through which Rainey involved his audience is evident. The game show was the format through which Rainey educated viewers in a key aspect of archaeology: that we often come to artifacts in darkness, with no knowledge of the story behind them. Through his quiz, he also reinforced a key idea in museology: that objects carry narratives. By many accounts What in the World introduced American audiences to archeology and to the main cultures of the world and even inspired some to study it formally.

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In my subsequent visits to the museum’s archives, I continued thinking about Rainey and his program, about his quest for opening the door of civilizations using a group of mysterious objects. Sitting in the middle of that large room I thought that some of these artifacts, put on the examination pedestal, could also tell the stories of those larger-than-life individuals, like Rainey, who had given life and purpose to the institution. And us today who are not archaeology specialists like those TV viewers, may yet be able to recognize the humanity in them; each object emerging from within the curtain of smoke, revealing the visions of those who are gone, those whose portraits hang on the walls of this museum but whose life stories lie underground like the objects they once uncovered.

As a kid in Mexico, one of the first books that I ever knew that addressed ancient cultures was Anita Brenner’s Idols Behind Altars. In this museum I instead saw curators behind altars —curatorial biographies waiting to reemerge from within the collections of artifacts they once assembled, and who needed to be given the chance to speak again.

[Variations on an Audience was a work designed to be performed only once, in the context of the launch of the book Theatrum Anatomicum (and Other Performance Lectures) at the Bruce High Quality Foundation University on October 22, 2009, inaugurating the performance lecture series Edifying, curated by Beatrice Gross. The work is an experiment on what in sociolinguistic theory has been described as Audience Design and Style-Shifting, which involves the way in which speakers adjust their modes of speaking in relation to their audience.]

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Audiences are endangered species.

They are slowly vanishing in this world showered with limelight, where 15 minutes of fame has now a cacophony of 24/7 programming.

We all speak at the same time, and no one listens. When everyone is an artist, no one can be in the audience. We only sit offstage because we are waiting for our turn in the lectern.

What we call audiences today, like the one here tonight, is nothing more than a collection of highly individualized minds. You all are authors, we all produce things: you take pictures, you write blogs, you all own creative real-state. You all here tonight are so different. How can me, or anyone, talk to you in a comprehensive manner so that you all can feel engaged?

Unfortunately, most people who lecture have failed to recognize this simple fact. They still speak to audiences as if they existed as one whole, as if this hypothetical and amorphous mass was a homogenous group of listeners, nor a heterogenous entity of speakers. They talk to this hypothetical audience as if they thought and felt exactly like them.

Let’s take, for instance, Slavoj Zizek.

Slavoj Zizek talks to everyone as if we all were Slavoj Zizek. A scholar assumes we all are scholars interested in long bibliographies and in the reference to that 1974 book where the footnote of the footnote clarifies what the footnote of the footnote of the 1973 version didn’t clarify.

Artists, when they are invited to speak, usually think that their audience wants the artist to act as if they didn’t care about them, but of course artists care, and their audiences- well, their audiences as usually are other artists who are respectful enough but what they really want is not to be an audience but to be the artist who is speaking.

So it is very painful for me to say this, but the truth is that in this post-post-modern world we all are confused about when to speak and when to listen. As a result of this, we are both unprofessional speakers and unprofessional audiences.

This spells slight doom, the temporary boredom we all have to live through every time we attend a lecture. We don’t even know why we do it. But it shouldn’t be that way.

Lectures could be like sex. They could be like the seduction of love, like the erotic dance or the magic act or the psychic séance or the hypnotic session. All it takes is for the speaker to find a way to talk to each one of the persons in the room as if it were a one-to-one conversation, an audience whisperer.

So by all means then let’s then do variations on an audience, or rather, on this non-audience. I will talk not to all of you, but to each of you. For this exercise I will assume that, amongst the group here there is at least one person of the following sort:

1. Theorists. That is public intellectuals, post-structuralist scholars, downtown east village, readers of October magazine.

2. Chelseaspeakers. Uber-professional art speakers, curators, consultants, critics.

3. Grant-writers and administrators working for non-profit organizations and the U.S. government and the Department of Education or School Board.

4. ‘Show-me-the-money’ speakers, no-nonsense, uncomplicated, like when we talk about art late at an afterparty after a few drinks.

Now that we have established the four audiences that I will be addressing, I will now repeat my introduction in audience 1 style:

The construct of the spectator as redefined today by

post-technological networks reunites a number of given implications that, upon close examination,

reveal society

– and its involutionary transformation-

as a product of a demystified late capitalist model without centers and reformulated contents.

The involution of cultural communication into a system of seemingly

original producers of knowledge as opposed to receivers creates a different

activity universe that contrasts with the deflection of speech, a seemingly anti-political task of horizontal results.

Where one searches for the hidden receiver finds itself the manifested materialization of parallel mimetic producers. It is the fabrication of the plot of the content,

the substance of normative principles of inclusion of concepts, that varies only in stylistic practices of scientific postmodernity,

usually not self-identified as such but actively embracing a regiment of exclusionary concept definitions

within a well-founded domain of references visible only to a reduced agents of the operation.

Audience 2 form:

The notion of audience has been redefined today by post-technological networks.

Cultural producers today produce works that critique western notions of collective spectatorship and propose new critical models.

Notions of performance are incorporated in this new critique, resulting in innovative explorations that operate in the realm of conceptual art in various formats.

The viewer becomes an active participant in the work, which explores notions of viewers becoming active participants.

The work becomes an active participant in the viewer, which is an exploration of notions of viewers.

These works are conceptual narratives that question a variety of concepts, including the way in which spectators receive information in a post-modern world. These practices thus become explorations of conceptual information of notions of participants that participate in notions of information of conceptual explorations.

In other words, in audience 3 form:

Audiences in our global world today face the challenges and the opportunities that come along with the emerging forms of expression.

In this multi-cultural and multi-disciplinary society there are multiple voices which reflect our diverse culture and that are important to support. In some cases, these voices will challenge the viewer to reflect on important issues we all face, but they all reflect the feelings and thoughts of others and are representative of the diversity of original community voices that we all should strive to support. We only face as a society the challenge to expand our long-term partnerships and advisory support to those who have an important message to convey to their constituents, building enduring foundations for community partnerships with real solutions. By acting together, we can overcome the obstacles that for too long have prevented real change on the critical issues that audiences face in art and life, fulfilling the long objective of change , creativity and achievement for the generations to come.

Audience 4 form

I mean its like sometimes because you are online so much and you get to like get to do all this like blogs and photoshop and movies and stuff its like today everything is so easy to do so why do we need anyone else doing it but us, like today things maybe have become decadent or something when you really think about it its really amazing like everything can mean anything because anyone can do whatever. I mean like today the world and like, culture has become a place where we all talk about ourselves and then it like makes everything look the same because no one seems to be listening or something. I mean that’s cool, but it’s like if I am talking and you are talking and he is talking and then if we just talk in different ways that doesn’t mean we are saying different things if you know what I am saying. Its like that is how its done today when we just say what we have to say and we know why we say it and we know what you or are going to say so what’s the point of even saying it, but the point that there is no point is maybe the point.

And now, to merge these styles, we will arrive to patch together the choir of art world voices. You can call it an audience fugue.

The construct of the spectator as redefined today by post-technological networks reunites a number of given implications that, upon close examination, I mean its like sometimes because you are online so much and you get to like get to do all this like, audiences in our global world today face the challenges and the opportunities that come along with the emerging forms of expression. The notion of audience has been redefined today by post-technological networks – and its involutionary transformation- as a product of a demystified late capitalist model without centers and reformulated contents. The involution of cultural communication into a system of seemingly original producers of knowledge its like today everything is so easy to do so why do we need anyone else doing it but us, In this multi-cultural and multi-disciplinary society Cultural producers today produce works that critique western notions of collective spectatorship as opposed to receivers creates a different activity universe that contrasts with the deflection of speech, blogs and photoshop and movies and stuff, like there are multiple voices which reflect our diverse culture and that are important to support, today things maybe have become decadent or something when you really think about it its really amazing like a seemingly anti-political task of horizontal results. In some cases, these voices will challenge the viewer to reflect on important issues we all face, where one searches for the hidden receiver finds itself the manifested materialization of parallel mimetic producers but they all reflect the feelings and thoughts of others and are representative of the diversity of original community voices that we all should strive to support, I mean everything can mean anything because anyone can do whatever. It is the fabrication of the plot of the content, I mean like today the world and like, the substance of normative principles of inclusion of concepts, that we only face as a society the challenge to expand our long-term partnerships and advisory support to those who have an important message to convey to their constituents, These works are conceptual narratives that question a variety of concepts, where we all talk about ourselves and then it like makes everything look the same because no one seems to be listening or something. By acting together, we can overcome the obstacles that for too long have prevented real change on the critical issues that audiences face in art and life, only in stylistic practices of scientific postmodernity, I mean that’s cool, but it’s like if I am talking and you are talking and he is talking and then if we just talk in different ways that doesn’t mean we are saying different things, like These practices thus become explorations of conceptual information of notions of participants, building enduring foundations for community partnerships with real solutions, usually not self-identified as such but actively embracing a regiment of exclusionary definitions that participate in notions of information of conceptual explorations, if you know what I am saying, including the way in which spectators receive information in a post-modern world, and we know why we say it and we know what you or are going to say so what’s the point of even saying it, within a well-founded domain of references visible only to a reduced agents of the operation, fulfilling the long objective of change , creativity and achievement for the generations to come, an exploration of notions of viewers, Its like that is how its done today when we just say what we have to say but the point that there is no point is maybe, like, the point.

Exégesis del Conferencista

Performance-conferencia leída en el Museo Carrillo Gil, Mexico, DF, con motivo de la Fiesta del Asno, que tomó lugar el  25 de julio del 2008. El siguiente es el texto de la conferencia-performance junto con las imagenes, varias de las cuales provienen de obras de la colección del museo.

Performance-lecture presented at the Museum Carrillo Gil, Mexico City, as part of the project The Feast of the Ass, which took place on July 25, 2008. Following is the full text of the lecture along with the screened images, many of which are from works from the museum’s collection.

Damas y Caballeros,

Los antiguos griegos tenían nueve musas: Caliope, la musa de la poesía heroica; Clío, de la historia; Erato, la musa de la poesía erotica, Euterpe, de la poesía lírica; Melpomene, la musa de la tragedia; Polimnia, la de la canción sagrada. Pero los griegos olvidaron una décima musa, que no era Sor Juana, sino la musa de los conferencistas de arte. Hablaremos hoy de aquella musa, y de como ella debe de ser invocada.

Qué significa dar conferencias sobre artes visuales? Puesto que el arte, es visual, cual es el objetivo de ponerle palabras, e inclusive, pretender que esas palabras explican, describen, o peor aun traducen, lo que uno esta viendo? Lo primero que debe de saber el conferencista es que el dar una conferencia es una tarea utópica, platónica, donde trazamos sombras de lo que es imposible entender de lleno. Hoy veremos qué debe de hacer el conferencista experto, como él se convierte en musa.

El conferencista experto entra a la sala de forma ceremoniosa. Su público lo aguarda, ansioso por una experiencia transformadora, a veces aburridos, porque otros los trajeron, porque necesitan una calificación, porque solo vienen a la fiesta, o porque son exploradores espirituales en busca de iluminación y de guía, o porque son críticos en busca de algo qué criticar. El conferencista sabe todo esto, y cuidadosamente, lentamente, seguramente, toma el escenario.

El escenario. El escenario se puede comparar a un acantilado, donde uno se siente desnudo como un pollo desplumado, siendo observado minuciosamente por el público. Es deber del conferencista el vencer este miedo y esta percepción.

El público por naturaleza es rebelde, y lo cuestiona todo. Por eso el conferencista debe de poner el orden estético, histórico, racional, entre la confusion intellectual que predomina en la sala.

Si el conferencista cumple su objetivo, logrará la confianza y la absoluta sumisión de su público, al grado que cualquier frase que salga de su boca sera considerada como una profesía sagrada.

El conferencista es un compositor, en el sentido clásico, construyendo su conferencia a la manera de una sinfonía, o de un edificio de corte clásico. Si está bien construida, la conferencia se vuelve un edificio perenne de memoria. Pero sin una fundación temática convincente,

una conferencia de arte se puede colapsar como una caja sin fondo, y el conferencista experto lo sabe. Algunas pueden estar huecas en el medio y quizá no sean de interés a nadie.

De manera que hay que hacer como haría un conferencista experto, y usar imagenes para hablar en metáforas, con el fin de entender qué es lo que constituye una gran conferencia y como se invoca a la musa de los conferencistas.

¿Qué es lo que espera el público de una conferencia de historia del arte? La respuesta es que muy poco.

La mayoría vienen con pocas expectativas, con la misma energía con la que uno asistiría a un velorio. Esto no es de sorprender, dado que la mayoría de los conferencistas, después de todo, muestran la misma pasión por su discurso que la de un cadaver.

Se tiene la preocupación entre el público que el conferencista lo cargue de datos, dándole toda clase de fechas, nombres, y definiciones extrañas de periodos y estilos y filósofos post-estructuralistas franceses para que los llevemos a cuestas indefinidamente, y los cuales se nos preguntarán al final de la presentación. Pero el conferencista experto lo sabe, y en vez de esto, se asegurará que la conferencia se sienta como

un paseo agradable por la playa, un viaje leve y refrescante a través de los horizontes y las sensuales olas de la historia del arte.

Pero esto no quiere decir que el proceso será fácil para el público. El buen conferencista se asegurará que el público se vea a sí mismo en el espejo, contemplando nuestros deseos, nuestros intereses y nuestros miedos, como explicaré.

Pero primero tenemos que determinar qué es lo que un conferencista experto NO debe de ser, y cómo podemos identificarlo. He aquí a continuación algunas categorías que hay que eludir.

Hay que cuidarse del conferencista autoritario, aquel con la voz monótona y dictatorial, con la cual nos da los datos, los títulos, las fechas y los estilos, la mayoría de los cuales olvidaremos después de algunos segundos. Cuando habla el conferencista autoritario, sentimos la presión de aprender por miedo. Nada de lo que le digamos al conferencista autoritario puede ser correcto. Aquellos que buscan una experiencia sadomasoquista, y sufren de síndrome de Estocolmo, quizá disfruten a este conferencista.

Está el conferencista miope, el que describe las imágenes tal cuales.

El conferencista miope tiene la dificultad de encontrar sus propias ideas, de manera que se se especializa en llenar sus conferencias de citas, y frases tales como “como Kant, diría, el arte es importante para la sociedad”, o “como estipula Gombrich, hay que analizar la pintura de hoy.” Al mostrarnos una pintura de una mujer de vestido rojo, el conferencista miope nos dirá: “esta obra representa a una mujer de vestido rojo.”

El conferencista solipsista tiende a ser un gran actor, que, como un mago, logra convencer a su público que solo él es su propio público, y que el publico que lo rodea no existe. Como resultado, el conferencista solipsista se abandona en los placeres de la autoescucha, elaborando y amplificando sus teorías. Debido a que los conferencistas solipsistas no se tienen que preocuparse de que sus conferencias le sean inteligibles a nadie mas que a ellos mismos, sus presentaciones adquieren un matiz curioso de fluir de consciencia, una lógica de sueño, moviendose de un tema a otro sin problema.

El público que asiste a las conferencias solipsistas deben de apreciarlas por su calidad textural, y no preocuparse por sentirse expluidos, puesto que todos, de hecho, estan siendo excluidos.

El conferencista aprehensivo es aquel que ha aceptado dar una conferencia pero que tiene pánico escénico y animosidad ante el público, prefiriendo escapar de ellos. Tratarán de imaginar a su público desnudo, sin éxito. Buscarán protección con todo lo que tengan, escondiendose detras del podio, sus powerpoints y sus notas, donde esconderán su cara como protección.

El conferencista evasivo puede ser muchos a la vez, sin ser ninguno de ellos en algun momento en particular, sin comprometerse a idea alguna, usualmente bajo el argumento de que todo argumento es relativo. El conferencista evasivo por lo general viene de “buena familia” y por consiguiente tiene mala educación , por lo que suele ser desagradecido con sus anfitriones, diciendo por ejemplo que no sabe por qué ha sido invitado a hablar sobre este u otro tema, que su asistente o su galería se equivocó preparando el powerpoint, que la estática del microfono lo distrae, que el agua que le dieron para beber no es Evian, que la impresora imprimió las páginas de la presentación en el orden equivocado, o que su gato se paró en su computadora, escribiendo frases o afirmaciones que no está preparado a explicar.

El conferencista infantilista es bueno, pero quizá demasiado bueno, para su público, mostrando un tipo de condescendencia que es similar al de una madre amamantando a su hijo, dandonos a entender que quiza algun dia llegaremos a saber tanto como él. Si uno ha olvidado lo que representaba estar en primaria, o si alquien quisiera saber lo que es estudiar en un orfanato católico, esta experirencia la puede proveer el conferencista infantilista.

Esta el conferencista nihilista, que busca destruir las ideas de todos los demas, sin proponer ninguna nueva, dejando al publico en un estado de vacio existencial.

Y finalmente tenemos al conferencista fast food, o tambien conocido como el conferencista seductor, oradores talentosos que nos embelesan con sus complejas y hermosas frases que parecen tener sentido y perfecta claridad. Sus explicaciones parecen iluminarnos, pero como la comida rapida, el sabor inicial rapidamente se torna en grasa, y como ese beso furtivo pasa de darnos placer a darnos confusion. Hemos olvidado todo, y nos hemos quedado con la impresion de habernos perdido el platillo principal.

Pero el conferencista experto sabe esto, y por ello utilizará su conocimiento para prevenir estas fatales tendencias que hemos descrito. El deberá de luchar primero contra

los demonios del powerpoint. Una vez hecho esto,

El Habrá de utilizar sus habilidades para envolver a su publico gradualmente en un mundo de fantasia.

De manera que en vez del beso furtivo, el conferencista deberá de

coquetear con nosotros, aventándonos una sandalia de conocimiento para comenzar la seduccion.

Acto seguido, el conferencista nos hará sentir relajados, como si estuvieramos compartiendo la más casual de las intimidades.

Con el conferencista experto lograremos visitar los pasajes más recónditos de la historia del arte,

Su voz habrá de capturar completamente nuestra atención al grado de sumirnos en un estado totemico de total concentración espiritual,

El fluir de sus conceptos, cual prodigioso río que crece, nos ayudará a romper con nuestros prejuicios históricos,

Y el crescendo de su narrativa  habrá de culminar, como una sinfonia, llevandonos a un éxtasis extremo, una explosión de claridades de relaciones entre ideas.

Sus palabras nos ayudarán a sentirnos para siempre transfigurados, como si hubiésemos pasado por un filtro de geometrías insospechadas,

El abrazo intelectual del conferencista no es ya el furtivo, sino el sincero, el cálido abrazo del verdadero amor por la historia del arte y sus ideas,

y al final de la conferencia, cuando el conferencista yace exhausto, podremos reflexionar sobre nuestra experiencia,

y como si despertásemos de un sueño, comprenderemos que una conferencia no es sino eso, una conferencia, y que la complejidad del mundo aún está ahí para que nosotros la desmenuzemos en persona,

al final del dia estaremos todos en el escenario, nutridos de los otros, y sabremos guiarnos a traves de nuestras circunstancias historicas y personales, apropiándonos del drama del arte como el nuestro, sabiendo que un mundo sin arte es un mundo sin ambiguedad,

La conferencia se convierte no ya en una hora de aire vacío, o un montón de palabras en un auditorio, sino en un lugar de la mente y del tiempo, donde se facilita una comunion de grupo.

Donde aprenderemos a usar nuestros ojos intensamente, sedientamente, obsesivamente, hasta que nos duela mirar,

Que compartamos por el momento la impresion de que somos parte de un juego de salon, en una conversacion con personas que vivieron muchos años antes y que sin embargo hablan de las mismas cosas,

Lo que el conferencista nos esta pidiendo que hagamos es que veamos por nosotros mismos. Mientras vemos a la obra y nos vemos a nosotros mismos, nos volvemos los actores, los modelos, y los narradores de la obra. Si en el mundo los roles siempre se alteran, por qué no en el arte? si al alterarlos descubrimos un poco más acerca de quienes somos.

Wittgenstein dijo que de aquello de lo que no se puede hablar, mejor es callarse. Pero si solo sabemos que no sabemos nada, y si sabemos que en el arte la verdad pura no existe, entonces hablar entre nosotros sobre arte se vuelve un proceso liberador. Y seamos quien seamos, nuestras palabras nos ayudarán a invocar a la musa.

aquella figura rara que debe de combinar conocimiento, ignorancia, teatro, magia, y sobre todo, sinceridad. Y sabemos que la hemos encontrado cuando e han invocado la fusion de las otras musas: la poesia heroica, la historia, la tragedia erotica, y la cancion sagrada.

Cierto, rara vez esta musa aparece, cada vez parece más extinta, a veces nos sentimos abandonados por ella, pero de vez en cuando, cuando al ver una obra nos entra un mensaje a la mente, cuando oimos un comentario y nos estremecemos levemente y nos inpiramos por algo que vimos u oimos, es entonces cuando sabemos que está ahí.

book cover

“Helguera knows the lecture form inside-out, in all its frailties and anachronisms, and he cares for it. But expect the Professor-Doctor of its terminal condition to be doing stand-up at the funeral.”

Dominic Willsdon, The Leanne and George Roberts Curator of Education and Public Programs, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

Published by Jorge Pinto Books, New York

Trade paperback: 6” x 9”; ISBN: 978-1-934978-16-0; $19.95

Launch date: September 2009

Available at Amazon

Theatrum Anatomicum (and Other Performance Lectures) brings together a number of  performance scripts that blend the dramatic elements of theater with the format of the academic presentation,  and bring into dialogue topics as disparate as the Latin American soap opera, the origins of the Kindergarten, the history of the Shakers, the US/Mexico war and the social dynamics of the art world.  In these series of experimental works, the voices of real and fictional characters come together in a critical exploration of history, politics, and art.

BOOK EXCERPT

INTRODUCTION 

[...]

Over the last few years, the performance lecture has become a rather ubiquitous genre on the stages of highbrow museums and Brooklyn stand-up bars. Yet, as I realized while putting this collection of texts together, there is not a great deal of writing that discusses the nature and structure of the genre. This absence of a theoretical framework is somewhat liberating, because once something is theorized, it starts to get trapped in philosophical premises. But for this book I feel I have to define for myself, even if tentatively, what a performance lecture is—a task that has not yet been imposed upon me, despite the fact that I have doing such lectures since that evening in Chicago in 1993.

The easy definition of a performance lecture is that it is a live presentation imparted by an artist who takes advantage of his or her artistic license and of the conventions of academic pedagogy to create a work that straddles fiction and reality. Irony and sometimes satire are central to the event: those who attend a performance lecture generally expect an irreverent take on academicism—a trait that explains this genre’s natural connection to institutional critique. Like other hybrid art genres, its very name illustrates the awkward juxtaposition of two modes of speaking that never entirely blend, much as prose poetry draws on the qualities of two different modes of writing without being entirely one or the other. Yet beyond these few points, performance lectures don’t follow many rules, and like performance, the genre is in a constant process of self-definition, sometimes delving into stand-up comedy, poetic presentations, recitals, speeches, etc.

My work in museum education, begun in 1992 and continuing to this day, has required me to reflect constantly on the relationship between performativity and pedagogy that is inherent to performance lectures. Because of my involvement with performance and theater, I gravitated toward the public-programs area of museums—an area that for many years has been in serious need of revitalization. The lecture format, a seemingly necessary medium of communication and a vital staple of academia, is constantly reviled and declared dead today, and for good reasons. Ever since the publication of Donald A. Bligh’s What’s The Use of Lectures? in 1971, there was been a general awareness of the limitations of this educational format and yet very little done to innovate on it. Through the work of Bligh and others, we have repeatedly received  prove that the lecture format is ineffective as a discussion method for promoting thought and that at best it is just as effective as other formats to transmit information, yet we continue to use this presentation formats that comes to us from the eighteenth century, a time when pedagogy consisted entirely of exposition and memorization.  The limitations of this method become clearest with the practice of a “read paper”—usually consisting of a poorly delivered, hard-to-assimilate piece of writing that is best read at home by oneself. Academics who attend art conferences deride even their own presentations as boring and excessively long but continue to perpetuate these archaic models. However, I believe that this  exasperation toward the traditional lecture format has finally reached the inner depths of the academic world, and in blogs and magazines, the lecture as we know it has been declared dead. A new type of lecture, the metalecture or lecture 2.0, must take its place.

In my role as programmer, I have frequently been frustrated by the low or nonexistent public-speaking skills of those who lecture and participate in academic discussions. While featured speakers usually have something relevant to say (which is what prompts an invitation to speak), very few of them are skilled public speakers or comfortable in a public forum, which translates into stiffness and social awkwardness, insincerity, and a general reluctance to open up toward an audience. Because most lectures are based on a written text, their unfolding is slow and their language excessively formal and heavy for a live reading. Wouldn’t it be great, I thought, if panels were like theater works, where drama has its hand in conveying the message? I thought, why aren’t there be dramaturges for art lecturers?—and I set out to become one.

Starting in about 1998 I started scripting stand-alone performance lectures. This eventually led to the incorporation of actors in symposia and panel discussions, which I first attempted in 2003 in collaboration with artist Ilana Boltvinik with The Congress of Urban Purification in Mexico City, and then again in 2004 at The First Imaginary Forum of Mental Sculpture at the Sculpture Center in Long Island City, Queens—both texts are included in this book. Not revealing the fact that actors were “interpreting” the papers and debates was key to maintaining the audience’s engagement without triggering the dismissal of the piece as yet another performance work. We All Are Streeter (2006), also included here, employed a similar theatrical strategy.

Another trait of the traditional lecture format that interests me is the narrowness of thematic focus that often results from the demands of scholarship. While extremely specialized topics are the logical result of academic-type research, their presentation in the shape of a lecture before a general audience can be alienating and, even if comprehensible, it leaves the general spectator questioning the larger relevance of the subject at hand. This issue becomes more and more aggravated because while the lecture remains set in its traditional presentation style, twenty-first-century auditoriums are filled with a new generation of viewers whose brains are wired for multichannel experiences and are capable of processing and making sense of the daily deluge of information that technology now provides. Symposia and panel discussions are better opportunities for comparing perspectives on a given subject, but the patience and focus needed to sit through, say, a six-hour symposium, can only be mastered by diehards, in the same way that only an opera aficionado would sit through the entire Götterdämmerung. The slowness of the traditional academic lecture became even more apparent as the Internet and the digital revolution took hold. In this era of pingbacks and multichannel viewing and processing, it is normal that the most animated discussions take place online instead of in actual physical spaces. This was the motivation for works like Theatrum Anatomicum (P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center, New York, 2002) where I experimented with multichannel, “dueling” lectures about topics that were at first sight completely unrelated (such as twentieth-century Mexican telenovelas and seventeenth-century Dutch anatomical theaters) in order to shed light on both subjects and onto a larger umbrella topic.

[...]

Included texts in this anthology:

Theatrum Anatomicum (or How to Dissect a Melodrama) (2002)

First Mexico City Congress of Urban Purification (2003)

Parallel Lives (2003)

First Imaginary Forum of Mental Sculpture (2004)

The Foreign Legion (2005)

We All Are Streeter (2006)

Manifest Destiny (2008-09)

THE ENNEATYPE CONFERENCE

The Enneatype Conference was a performance presented on May 9, 2009, at Lisa Ruyter’s studio in  Vienna, Austria, per invitation of Parabol Magazine and  curators Jasper Sharp and Elsy Lahner. The days of May 8th and May 9th I spent the time in Café Sperl, conducting “art personality assessment tests” using a system of my own making although inspired in the Enneagram Personality theory.  Participants would respond to a questionnaire about their personal relationship to art, after which I would provide a diagnosis of their artistic personality type using enneagram categories.

While the enneagram test in fact turned out very accurate assessments of each individual’s attitude towards art, I wanted to stress the  fallibility of any system that claims to provide “answers” about an individual’s personal situation. Thus the system, which at first was presented to all participants as an authentic scientific method developed in Vienna, was later unveiled as a complete fabrication.

PH conducting art personality tests at Cafe Sperl, Vienna, May 8, 2009

Sample of one of the art enneatype tests

The culminating event of the project was the performance, in the form of an academic lecture, that explained the various componens of the Art Personality Enneagram. What follows is the abbreviated text from that presentation.

Characters:

Rupert Steiner

Pablo Helguera

Steiner

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Welcome to the closing event of The Enneatype Conference, a unique occasion to celebrate the launch of The Enneagram of Vienna and celebrate the new issue of Parabol Magazine. My name is Rupert Steiner and I am the director of the Psychological Association of Art Therapists here in Vienna. Our mission is to study the ways in which art can reveal the potentiality of the individual. And, as such, it is an immense honor to me to present to you the work of Pablo Helguera, a Mexican artist and educator whose work has centered for many years on the very subject of the artistic personality. Helguera is the director of the Helguera Center for Artworld Studies, which has as its mission to understand the sociology of art and to propose the emergence of a new field of study, which he has described as artworld studies, using elements from social anthropology, biometrics, personology, economics, culinary theory, and of course psychology.

First we should explain what is an enneagram. The Enneagram is a nine-pointed figure inscribed in a circle. The meaning of the symbol itself, together with the personality types organized around the nine points, shows a system of knowledge about nine distinct but interrelated personality types, or nine ways of seeing and experiencing the world. The Enneagram of Personality is generally presented as a psychospiritual system for mapping and understanding nine possible personality types. Each personality type associated with the Enneagram represents a map of traits that highlights patterns of thinking, feeling, and behaving.

The notion of the artistic personality enneagram emerges from the work of Dr. Ingrid Lipsky. Dr. Lipsky was a student of Theodor Meynert at the psychiatric clinic of the university of Vienna, alongside with Sigmund Freud and other eminent psychiatrists and neuropathologists. She was also involved in hypnotism and spirituality, which led her to research the enneagram.

Dr Lipsky died at age 52 in 1910, in a safari accident in Africa, just before she got to publish her research. It was shortly after that one of her students, Eberhard Klopstock, who inherited her research papers, took her theories and attempted to develop them.

He tragically burned her original works in order to claim them as his own, then publishing a book in 1935 inspired on her ideas, titled “The Enneagram and the Artist’s Mind”.

Unfortunately, the book did not do well, and it was never reprinted. There are no known surviving copies.

It was thanks to Pablo Helguera, who while doing research in the museum of Modern Art in New York, found a letter from Klopstock to the then director, Alfred Barr, mentioning his research on this subject. Helguera has researched this information to update the original ideas of Ingrid Lipsky and thus bring the Enneagram of Vienna back to life.

He is here to tell us about the various categories of the Enneagram and share with us a system that studies and analyses the artistic personality of the contemporary art world. Please help me in welcoming Pablo Helguera.

[PH arrives onstage]

Pablo, we are enormously grateful to have you amongst us tonight.

PH

Thank you, so am I. I am delighted that we can share the knowledge of the enneagram tonight.

Steiner

Can you please tell us how you developed the enneagram?

PH

Well, I had to work from very initial information that was left from the notes of notable enneagramists, including Dr. Lipsky, as well as other psychologists and psychiatrists that have focused on the typology of the artist, not excluding Carl Jung and Hermann Rorscharch, who was very much interested in art as revealing issues of consciousness.

Steiner

So what is the difference between the personality enneagram and the artistic enneagram?

PH

The personality enneagram is something that was developed by many new age psychologists to explain the kinds of personalities in the world. The artistic enneagram focuses on figuring out specifically the kind of artistic sensibility that one has, and it is a very helpful way to understand one’s own relationship with art, your potential, and also to address your shortcomings as an arts professional. I believe that once you go through the process of learning your enneatype you will be able to become a much more successful individual in the art world.

Steiner

And I understand that you will now do a demonstration?

PH

Indeed. I now illustrate the way in which the enneagram works.

First I will conduct an act of group hypnotism which is desired to attain collective attention to a given subject, particularly when one is giving a boring lecture.

You all will look at my hand, moving like a pendulum. You all will fall in a state of deep sleep and peace, of full attention of everything I will say from now on.

Good, we are ready to go now.

I first would like you to consider a question, and choose the  answer that most accurately reflect your way of feeling about art. After you have made your choices, you should remember the letter and we shall find out what each of your art personality types are.

When you see an artwork at a contemporary art gallery, list the impulse that is most likely to come to you first:

a) Thinking about how this artwork makes you feel

b) Asking to yourself what is right or wrong with this artwork

c) Trying to evaluate the artwork as good or bad

d) Wanting to know who the artist is

e) Wanting to know how this artwork was made

f) Wanting to know the back story of that art work

g) Wanting to know what the idea behind the work is

h) Remembering other pieces similar to that one

i) Non thinking, simply experiencing the work.

When you see a contemporary artist or arts professional of your same age and background receive a certain recognition that you could technically be in the same position to receive, your most likely reaction is:

a) Happiness for this person

b) Envy, wondering why you did not receive such recognition yourself

c) Thinking on what kind of friendships and professional contacts you need to make in the future to receive that same recognition yourself

d) Indifference

e) Thinking of what kind of work you need to make to receive such recognition in the future

f) Wanting to know the reasons for such recognition

g) Figuring out an innovative way to attain similar attention

h) Depression

i) Simple admiration for this person

Following you will hear about the different kinds of art personality types. If you chose, for instance, “h”,

you are

TYPE 1: THE NOSTALGIST

Nostalgists are in touch with their feelings, are sensitive, and highly perceptive of their environment. The nostalgist is inquisitive and likes to attain a lot of knowledge about an artwork. They can become very erudite and knowledgeable about a subject.

On average, they tend to emphasize too much the notion of biography, the context in which something was made, they draw lots of historical connections.

When they are unhealthy they can be depressive, self-destructive, obsessed with being up to date with the latest news of the art world, overromanticize everything, they can become delusive.

Examples: Many famous art historians are nostalgists. Janet Cardiff (on the photo), Matthew Buckingham, Mark Dion, Janet Cardiff, Sophie Calle, Christian Boltanski, Yinka Shonibare

if you chose “g” you are,

TYPE 2: THE CONCEPTUALIST

As its name indicates, conceptualists are abstract thinkers, capable of powerful synthesis, focused, and able to quickly grasp and advance the art discourse.

On average, they overemphasize theory, cause and effect, and argumentation in a work. They cannot fully enjoy a work unless they have clarified in their mind the main issues that the work addresses.

Bad conceptualists become out of touch with their feelings and have a difficulty sharing their emotions, are introverted, are desensitized toward art which arises emotions, can become aggressive and pretentious.

Examples: Joseph Kosuth, Allan Kaprow, Jacques Rancière, Daniel Birnbaum, Rosalind Krauss, Luis Camnitzer, Roberta Smith, Richard Serra, John Baldessari, Lawrence Weiner, Martin Creed

TYPE 3: THE TALKER

At their best, Talkers are able to translate the visual into words, becoming eloquent and able to put things in perspective. Gregarious and friendly, talkers have an ability to bring people together and become important spokespersons for large interest groups and gain access to important positions in the art world. Many performers and architects are talkers.

On average, Talkers can come off as superficial, saying a lot but without great substance, emphasizing hyperbole and syntax instead of content, can draw exaggerated relationships, and feel that they always have to say something even if it is unnecessary.

When they are unhealthy, they have a burning desire to protagonize everywhere, taking other ideas as one’s own, gossip too much, exaggerate reality to the point of becoming a storyteller, becoming a bit of a clown.

Examples: Hans Ulrich Obrist, Jerry Saltz, Marina Abramovic, William Kentridge, Robert Hughes, Maurizio Cattelan, Kirk Varnedoe

(e) is

TYPE 4: THE FORMALIST

Formalists are highly visual people, design-oriented, perfection-driven, with a great appreciation for craftsmanship and neatness. Organized, they are punctual, keep their word, and generally maintain a good balance of art and life.

On average, Formalists can be anal retentive, extremely demanding to others and to themselves, to the point of paralysis, it can take them time to make decisions and have anxiety in unresolved situations; they have no tolerance for ambiguity.

When they are unhealthy, they can be manipulative, easily irritated, dismissive of anything which may not be clear-cut, conservative, and materialistic.

Examples: Rachel Whiteread, Sol Lewitt, Donald Judd, Hannah Darboven, Michael Snow, Walead Beshty, John Cage, Gabriel Orozco

TYPE 5: THE BOHEMIAN

Bohemians are those capable to enjoy the art experience to its fullest degree; they are relaxed, open individuals who are highly receptive to other’s art and ideas and are contagious in their pleasure and enthusiasm, sharing their innovative thinking. They are friendly and accessible and can be very inspiring.

On average, They are abstract thinkers who can sometimes get too ambiguous and contradictory in their actions; they may lack personal drive to do things; can take them a long time to do a project, can be noncommittal.

However, if they are unhealthy, they Can be lazy, or falsely modest, boring, inattentive to detail and poor executors of projects.

Examples: Rirkit Tiravanija, Basquiat, Pippilotti Rist, Vito Acconci, Helio Oiticica, and others.

TYPE 6: THE SHAKER

Now, Shakers are very perceptive of social contexts and can influence social structures to their advantage. They are brilliant, highly diplomatic, alert, shrewd, and reliable. They excel in organizing and administration, as well as in making interesting connections and bringing people together. They can orchestrate large projects and usually are good with money. Many museum directors are shakers.

On average, Shakers can be social climbers and careerists; they can put the carriage before their horse and do things entirely out of self-interest. They can be a powerful ally and supporter but can also be a dangerous enemy.

At their worst, they can be Egotistical, with a problem with authority, extremely proud and manipulative, delusional and self-aggrandizing.

Examples: Thomas Krens, Olafur Eliasson, Christo, Jeffrey Deitch, Larry Gagosian, Okwui Enwenzor, Francesco Bonami, Mary Boone

TYPE 7: THE CONTRARIAN

Contrarians are the ones who usually open a debate. They have an innate ability to detect and question the status quo, and activating spaces of discussion and experience for others. They have sharp minds with complex perspectives and inspiring thoughts.

Generally, contrarians can be dogmatic, self-centered, and have a difficulty to relate to others who don’t share their views. Narcissistic, they are well-grounded, independent, and strong, although they resent not being given their due credit and always act as if they have a chip on their shoulder.

When unhealthy, beware: they can be extremely aggressive, dismissive of others, overly negative, insensitive to others, power-hungry, and snob.

Examples: Hans Haacke, Andrea Fraser, Martin Kippenberger, Terence Koh, Jens Hoffmann, The Guerrilla Girls, Barbara Kruger, Richard Prince, Donald Kuspit.

TYPE 8: THE SPIRITUALIST

Spiritualists are self-fulfilled people who can extract the best of every art experience and bring it to a higher realm. They are people in peace with themselves, who think with clarity and lucidity, and for whom art is a vehicle to attain illumination.

Spiritualists usually see beyond what the normal viewer seees, thus can be treated as delusional (and may actually be); can be sentimental and new-agey. They can act as shamans or evangelists.

If they are unhealthy, however, they can be naïve, delusional in believing that they are the new Buddha, condescending, passive-aggressive, resentful and insecure.

Examples: Bill Viola, Agnes Martin, Barnett Newman, Dan Flavin, Joseph Beuys, Eva Hesse, James Turrell

TYPE 9: THE ADMIRER

Admirers are centered individuals who can look at art in a balanced way and appreciate its strengths and weaknesses without falling prey to their emotions. At their best they are intelligent, self-effacing, extremely reliable as supporters, collaborators or allies.

Admirers can be calculating, materialistic, acquisitive, constantly amusing themselves with new things and experiences. They have a need to be loved.

When unhealthy, they are Impulsive and infantile in what they want. Can become offensive and abusive. They act on impulses rather than dealing with their own anxieties or depressions, so they can end up spent and despondent.

Examples: Charles Saatchi, Peter Norton, the Rubells

To finalize, I will show a few graphs that exemplify demographic research of the artworld using enneagramatic types.

Here is a sample of an unhealthy enneagramic art community, with an excess of Bohemians and talkers, and yet few admirers (which translates on scant collecting) and too few conceptualists.

In this other sample, one can appreciate the behavioral trends amongst art types who are inclined to switch galleries after being selected into the Venice Biennial. Shakers and Formalists are more likely to switch galleries given their acute sense of opportunity and order, respectively; contrarians will switch only because they like to switch, nostalgists are too attached to the past, and bohemians are not able to switch because they don’t have galleries in the first place.

so as you can see, there is a lot to be learned from this system, which can be mastered with enough study and analysis.

Any questions?

Steiner

Pablo, I  do have a few comments.

PH

Go ahead.

Steiner

I have been listening to your presentation, and I am realizing that none of these statements have any scientific basis. Looks like you made them up.

PH

I think you are confused.

Steiner

I am starting to suspect that you fooled me and that actually Dr. Lipsky never existed. If you look closely at that photo of Dr. Lipsky that you gave me to show for the presentation, that looks like an old photo that you found in a thrift shop. And the guy that you showed in that picture is not Eberhard Klopstock. He looked too familiar to me. He actually is the singer Richard Tauber.

PH

You are wrong, Rupert.

Steiner

I think that your whole theory is bullshit. It is like all that new age philosophy that gives you a false sense of worth, that gives you false hopes, making you believe that there are powerful spiritual forces that will make you succeed. But the truth is that when we try to hard to search for that success we loose the sense of who we are and what we believe in. You have played with our feelings. Shame on you.

PH

I am sorry you feel this way. OK, something has gone wrong here. Maybe it is time to end this demonstration.

You may remember that you all are under hypnotic trance. So when I snap my fingers, you will not remember any of this conversation. The Enneagram of Vienna will completely vanish from your memory, the same way it came, it will vanish from everyone’s memory the same way it was gone before— it will never have existed. We will not think of who we are but only go about our lives, and our art, withholding judgment. We will simply try to survive, and be at times tortured and at times happy, not entirely sure why, and let our identities, and our relationship with art, remain a mystery, where it belongs.

[making another hypnotic gesture]

Nine, Eight, seven, six, four, three… two… one… welcome back. And thank you.

[they exit]

Poster for The Feast of the Ass, Museo Carrillo Gil, Mexico City, July 2008

The Feast of the Ass was a Transpedagogical event inspired in the medieval feast of the same name where all social roles were reversed as a donkey was brought into the church presiding as the pope. In a special event at the museum, an actual donkey was brought into the space and an evening ensued where non-curators presented curatorial projects, non-educators gave tours, non-critics provided criticism, and non-artists performed.  The presentations were the result of a week of workshops where these roles were discussed with more than 40 participants.

el asno en el carrillo / the Ass at the Carrillo

criticism panel with non-critics

[Comentario de Mauricio Marcín sobre la Fiesta del Asno en el museo Carrillo Gil]

¿Por dónde empezar? ¿Cuál es la orilla de una memoria? Ya sé. Unas orejas largas, puntiagudas y erectas. Un disidente se atreve a sostener que dos más dos es tres. Y entonces ¡a mirar la esquina! por burro. Pero luego los burros sirven, casi en el mismo sentido que los locos. Nos muestran las fronteras de la ética y de la moral. Nos muestran también las de la razón. Podríamos ver en un vagabundo de discurso repetitivo nuestro reflejo de elocuencia. Yo estoy bien, porque no soy como él.
A mi todo esto me parece muy frágil. Las fronteras y los centros.
En la Fiesta del Burro, todos éramos otros. Todos fuimos otros. Está bien dejarse ser otro. Pensemos por un segundo que estos cuerpos nuestros que miramos como unidad, de un momento a otro pueden mutar; drásticamente a cucaracha como Gregorio. Pero esa es sólo una de las posibilidades. Somos en potencia miles, cientos de miles, al mismo tiempo. El burro y el sabio, el elocuente y el mutismo. El amo y el siervo.

Mauricio Marcín, 2009