in defense of Clooney

I care about art, but I did not loathe The Monuments Men as some would say I am obliged to do. Now in my school days, this difference would have me terribly alarmed. I feared retribution for liking what was derivative or feeling ambivalent toward what was revolutionary...according to others. Who am I kidding? I still fear that difference because it makes me feel like a fraud. It makes me feel like I missed something really important in that one seminar that one day, and now my future is irreparably off course.

But that fear can be calmed by realizing the unique position I have occupied for the past three years: not (just) as a sad little adjunct, but more as a "missionary" of art history to a population of rural neophytes. I do not and cannot approach the history of art as an elitist because I am guiding (not indoctrinating) new art viewers. Think about it. Would Clooney really produce a film that was only for the art elite? Only for those initiated into academia? The man knows how to make a buck or two in Hollywood, so to understand the nature of the film, we have to consider his intended audience.

How do you entertain that audience while telling a true story? How do you make art, and the preservation of it, sexy?

I myself played Lady Gaga and Queen in class last week, but Bill Murray and Cate Blanchett work, too, I suppose. We could surely dismiss this film just on the basis of who is in it: Clooney's clique, acting out his latest sad puppy cause, which happens to focus (to an obsessive extent) on the Ghent Altarpiece. But I liked it. And I understand why certain elements were condensed and why others were overplayed.

In order to immerse a viewer in this true story, you have to make them care about the art. So which art? Everything known to man? I can't even get through that much material in one semester, let alone two hours. So Clooney used particular pieces as emotional foils, if you will. The daring escape of the aforementioned altarpiece opens the film, the abduction of Michelangelo's Madonna in Bruges is somehow more important than the death of a main character, and the torching of Raphael's Portrait of a Young Man is played out like we're watching a hero's unjust execution. I found it to be a good and inevitable device to make the viewer care about the art without requiring at least a bachelor's degree.

Now, if this elicits talk of art as puppies, then so be it. I'll admit to referring to Mona Lisa as a woman, not a portrait. I'll gladly admit to objectifying these objects in an overly sentimental way, because I cannot disconnect the object from the artist I read about in school. It's like meeting Leonardo without a time machine. Yes, it is anthropomorphism, too...but this is a blog written by someone who loves lolcats, mind you. Look for realism elsewhere.

I know there is a segment within the "art world" that does not share in my objectification. There are people out there who will argue that a reproduction is just as good as an original, or bemoan the millions exchanged at Sotheby's for paint on wood or canvas. We all judge value differently. And in this postmodern (or postpostmodern?) age, the idea of the art object itself is questionable. Words are art, as are actions, sounds, and fleeting sights on a screen. Art today can seem immortal, like an digital image, or it can succumb to the ravages of time like latex sculptures dissolving in storage like old rubber bands. Is art something to be owned and stolen and found again, or is it just the idea?

And by focusing on the object, do we necessarily undervalue the idea? The film might not have touched upon the inner workings of art history, and like many Hollywood versions, there are inconsistencies visible to the trained eye: like Matt Damon sauntering along with a canvas in a way no curator would. I think it is both confusing and understandable that character development takes a back seat to the art objects, too. To really get a sense of and learn to care for the Monuments Men themselves, we'd need a different type of film.

We use objects, not just art, to contain, symbolize, and embody ideas like the Monuments Men. Like the shoes in the Holocaust Museum, or the gold fillings found alongside the art in a salt mine, the work of the old masters carries the weight of a loss of human life, the loss of a way of life, and the efforts to save it. At least, that's the parallel I am drawing, whether Clooney meant it or not. And he might as well say he meant it all along, to shoot back at the puppy criticism.

crusade

Nothing unites people like a common enemy. And apparently secular people like me make great uniters.

The religious saga in my hometown is far from over; in fact, it's simmering quite nicely. Tell me, what's at your high school's entrance? A sign, a marquee perhaps, an image of your mascot. How about a large bronze sculpture of Jesus? A sculpture of Jesus, albeit on private property, just outside a public school that recently reached a compromise concerning a religious image in the office. That might be what people see when they drive to good old JG, if a community member has her way.

Apparently it isn't a protest, but "a positive memorial to the faith of the community." Hmm, I think NC has some of those already. They're called churches, and $30,000 could do a lot to restore and rejuvenate them. Why pay for a bronze statue, when you can make a positive impact on existing monuments? Better yet, give that money to the students! Books, technology, writing workshops, scholarships! Now that's positive.

Two weeks ago, I had some students read aloud excerpts from Pope Urban II's call to the First Crusade. You can read one translation of the speech here. The class squirmed at the graphic violence mentioned to foment religious vengeance. They timidly answered my questions about Urban's motives and persuasion. The promise of heaven is quite a bargain.

But it wasn't just a mission for salvation. It was a land grab; the Latins, as we call Western European Christians at the time, wanted to take territory back from the Muslims. (Territory once held by the Eastern Roman Empire, the Byzantines.) And they held Jerusalem as a Latin kingdom, for a while. It was also a fortuitous distraction from Christian versus Christian violence. Marauding bands of warriors, no longer quite as necessary in a more peaceful Europe, could point their swords eastward. And they practiced their craft on Jewish communities as they made their way to the Holy Land.

Togetherness. Community. Likemindedness. Wrapped in zealotry and stabbing and beheading. How heroic... 

The crusade in my hometown is of a different nature, not violent, but just as zealous. Seriously, our mascot is crusading on teeshirts, now, literally taking up the Cross. There is also a chain dangling down below the fishy fist, perhaps as a symbol of the oppression Christians face today, and have subsequently overcome? I guess the redesign is meant to "put back" the religion thought to have been flushed from the school, but all I see is "Grrr! Jesus!" Not exactly the same message found in the Gospels. It's one thing for an individual athlete to pray or to thank God for that touchdown. It's another to imply that the mascot, the school, the entire community, ascribe to the same beliefs. That's exclusivity, and while it appears to unite, it actually divides.

Four Seasons Graphics has sold these shirts and raised money for a local food pantry. At least some good came of it. What good will come from a bronze statue near campus?

Maybe there is no room for argument here, at least not in legal terms. If the statue is on private property, then it is not a direct statement by the school district. Just as the Muskie teeshirts, sold by a third party, are not official...but both, if the statue is completed, are allowed by the district. No district action, as far as I know, has yet been taken to stop either one.

Some have questioned the legality of altering a school mascot, and I get that. I need to look into trademarks for high schools, because while Ohio State has a choke-hold on their Block O, I do not know of any legal standing regarding the Muskies. In fact, I'm rather nervous having the design's image on my blog now, but you really have to see it to believe it.

All I can say, to (hopefully) wrap up this series of diatribes, is this:

Please, by all means, worship freely and proudly. What you do on Sunday, or what you think/believe/pray any other day of the week, is a personal matter. However, as a teacher or administrator or community leader, you have the responsibility to be inclusive, impartial, and above all, understanding when acting in official capacity. Judging which expressions of faith or opinion are acceptable is not your call. You tripped up on this one, and a student called you out. I wish the ACLU never got involved, but what's done is done. Why invite more controversy? Why repeat the mistakes that led to moving a memorial, and more importantly, losing the trust of students and the community?

In case you forgot, the Latins lost to Saladin in 1187, not even a century after Urban II urged them to take the Cross. The city of Jerusalem is still a hot bed for violence and extremism today; we're like kindergartners refusing to share, only the blocks and dolls are people's homes, places of worship, and lives.

It's the wall, not the image, that should be neutral.

Logo of Al Jazeera America from america.aljazeera.com

During our discussion of Islamic art, I showed the above image to my class along with my typical infuriating questions: what do you think? Why do you think that? So take a moment, and pretend you're my student.

What do you think? How does the image make you feel? Scared? Threatened? Did you just think of terrorism?

Now why did you think that? Some might not be able to get past the common spelling and sound of "Al" in Al Jazeera and Al Qaeda, for instance. I must assure you that this is natural. Especially after 9/11, I cannot blame anyone for that initial, gut reaction. However, I encourage you to recognize why Arabic words and calligraphy stir those feelings, and how you associate a television logo with a terrorist organization.

Then there was that wonderful moment after I played audio of Sura (Chapter) 18 of the Koran. A student raised her hand and said she thought it sounded quite beautiful. She liked the abstract design of the calligraphy and the spiritual qualities that abstract design can impart. Yes.

That's what I mean when I talk about the power of an image. It can scare you, and it can cause you to think beyond the gut reaction. But if images were completely neutral, we wouldn't have much of a visual culture. We wouldn't have the great, iconic images of our own history that express the proverbial thousand words even without any text.

Kent State, 1970

Rosie the Riveter

But with great power, comes great responsibility. Artists of course are responsible for the images they create, just as viewers are responsible for the images they view. Furthermore, teachers like me are responsible for presenting such images in an academic context, one that nurtures critical thinking beyond gut reactions.

I've written before, pleading for skepticism of facebook memes. That is an example of viewer responsibility. We don't get a "dislike" option, so often the posting of an image is taken as a sign of agreement (unless you accompany it with a rant, like I do). The liking and sharing encouraged on facebook is not invalid as expression, mind you, but it is the expression of gut reactions. Good, bad, beautiful, ugly, agree, disagree...these aren't the products of in-depth analysis, but they are starting points.

Now what happens when the image in question touches on a controversial subject, and the artist is a high school student?

I'm talking about teeshirts, here. Teeshirts that were on display in my high school before the whole Jesus drama ensued. From what I understand of the project, the students were free to pick a topic important to them and create a silk-screen design for that topic. Once displayed to the student body, these teeshirts caused a lot of buzz. Isn't that a good thing? School isn't a protective bubble, especially high school, and what better time to start discussing major issues like gay rights and abortion than when you are young and under the direction of responsible educators?

Again, art has power. Images start conversations, create controversy, and, heck, 100 years ago a ballet started a riot in Paris. A ballet! Go ahead and Google Rite of Spring...

Apparently, some educators at JG are descendants of the Parisian rioters. If I understand correctly, some, but not all, of the teeshirts were taken down after students were unable to keep the discussion civil. Instead of direction, instead of education, the principal chose to blame the art. What a lovely lesson for tomorrow's leaders: "You are just mindless information receptacles. You have no power over your own behavior. You have no responsibility to analyze the issues put in front of you. The art made you do it."

That is a huge problem. That is not realistic. The idea that you can put away or destroy art, or anything you disagree with, is what prevents discussion and compromise. (Are you reading this, Congress?) For all our talk of a free society, I was quite frankly shocked by how a majority of my students not only recognized moments of iconoclasm in our culture, but condoned it when it was the government making the call. Essentially, they wrote on their papers "Some images should be banned, and the government should decide." Scary, right? That's not just a parent refusing to buy Tommy the latest "Grand Theft Auto." That reminds me of Entartete Kunst in Munich, the exhibition of "degenerate" modern art put on by Goebbels and Hitler.

Yeah, I just went there.

Neither side is as bad as Hitler, yet I do not want to see this adversarial approach grow unchecked. Forget riots in Paris; taking away religious objects has led to war. (Fine, go Google the dissolution of the monasteries in 16th century England).

It's a pretty good way to piss people off. No one is dying because their church has been torched, but the school in Jackson did have to pay $95,000 in punitive damages when the ACLU came around. That's money taken out of schools, away from education that should fix this mess. The ACLU swoops in at the very hint of promotion of a particular religion, blind to any other consideration, and JG really left itself open to it. I've seen comments from Christians saying that they do not want to see other religions included in schools. They think a portrait of Mohammed on the wall would be just terrible. Regardless of the fact that there are no portraits of Mohammed! Gah, it's an unyielding viewpoint paired with ignorance that I have a problem with here.

If anything, it boggles my mind how similar the mindsets of both sides are, religious right and secular left. Can we get a third option, here? Maybe a fourth?

Remember, these are the words of an idealist, and my grand solution--a school taking the reins and guiding students as they consider images they don't agree with--is contingent on the school being impartial. And I think it's pretty clear that JG has some partial administrators and educators...not to mention parents and other concerned adults. By equating a mass-produced picture (not even a painting) with your own personal faith, you see yourself attacked. Your way of life is threatened. You bemoan catering to the minority. Well, all that tells me is that our community is not ready to stop blaming the art (or making it your martyr) and start explaining our gut reactions.

How can we teach students to work through big issues if we ourselves are not capable of doing so together?

picture painting photograph

The local newspaper is reporting on the JG story now, and of course the comments have exploded like an atom bomb. There are my compatriots of course:

Really this is news ??? Hang a pic of Satan who cares ,just educate the kids ..you religious followers and apposers get fanatical about the dumbest things

There are BIGGER issues that should be addressed way before a picture in the office... Lots of rights violations... prejudicial issues, distinguishing treatment of individual(s) based on their race & community roots…

I heartily agree with your sentiment, if not with your grammar and spelling. Then there are these: 

No they should put one up on every wall !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Amber and Randy may you burn in Hell That's my religion don't like it tuff crap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You stay classy, SE Ohio...classy and crazy. Here's my absolute favorite:

Jesus had his picture taken??? Kodak???

Thank you from the bottom of my heart; I needed that laugh! And the pièce de résistance:

No way.the teacher should be FIRED!!!!!!!!!!

Say what? Someone is commenting on an issue with which they have not wholly familiarized themselves. Shocker!

All right, my snark is over. Long story short, there has been an image titled The Lord is My Shepherd in my high school since the 1970s. I couldn't really remember it exactly, but my friends have helped me confirm that it is Warner Sallman's work. Frustratingly, the website does not list the painting's date or medium the way other museums and galleries would, but I'd say it is in the vicinity of 1941, the year Sallman painted the Head of Christ. The reproduction of The Lord is My Shepherd in the high school was originally dedicated to a beloved teacher. 

I'm still looking into more about her: Dad identified her as Margaret Barnett, a "pillar of Rix Mills Church." (Shout-out to the ancestral Elliott lands...) As a Latin and English teacher, I'm sure she would share my abhorrence of bad grammar. On matters of religion, we'd agree to disagree. Or, as my dear father told a fellow church-going man, "Don't bother talking to Debbie about religion; you won't win that argument." Whatever that means...

Back to a key word, and why my favorite comment is my favorite: reproduction. I highly doubt that the image in JG is an actual painting, and thus does not have the same value as the original (read here, it would not fetch over a million at auction like The Scream), so I hesitate to talk about it in art historical terms. However, I have a new pet peeve: the words picture, photo, and painting (heck, toss portrait in the mix) are not interchangeable. They each have a particular definition. Thus, I use the term picture, image, or reproduction.

But wouldn't it be cool if Jesus took a selfie and posted it on Instagram? It would also be cool if he could just diffuse this whole situation and remind people that whether the image is on the wall in a school or in a church, their faith (that thing protected by the First Amendment) is inside them, not the image. If we all remembered that, maybe we wouldn't be shouting at each other "Your goin 2 hell!!!!1!" and making ourselves look rather silly. 

Another gem from the comments. You just proved my point, madam.

No one took God out of schools. The courts did rule against school-led prayer. Christian or Muslim, it doesn't matter. No one will be led, but they may lead themselves. What's more important to you, really, stamping Jesus on every locker or actually acting like a Christian?

Crazy notions of Jesus-coated public schools aside, this is not a simple issue, no matter how many internet commenters type "end of story" or "period" after their opinions. Of course, the most immediate argument concerns the separation of church and state, and I'm purposely avoiding the argument over where the phrase "separation of church and state" originated...let's say it's an interpretation of the First Amendment and move on for now. It's precedent that raises the question: should a public school display a religious image? Court decisions on this topic point to "No." 

However, I would also ask: Does the presence of the image endorse the religion? Should the image's particular location within that school have any bearing on the argument? Should the ACLU be involved on the student's behalf? 

To complicate it further (as if parsing which hallways students use or threatening legal action weren't enough), there is a very specific function for this image: the commemoration of a teacher. There are of course such memorials in many school buildings; one internet comment that caught me as particularly salient brought up the portrait of John Glenn himself. By displaying and viewing his image, do we become Democrats like our former Democratic Senator? This, in my mind, is the real issue. What does the image actually do, and what are the responsibilities of the viewer and of the institution displaying the image?

Now, since I teach religious art on a regular basis, I have always been able to frame the religious subject matter in terms of history and visual culture. And I have for a while been asserting the ability of images to serve many different functions depending on their context. Why can schools such as my alma mater not present religious imagery in the same compartmentalized, educational context? Create an open forum for students to view The Lord is My Shepherd alongside their own images, directed by art teachers, history teachers, English teachers, oh my! Alongside examples of Islamic art, Buddhist art, whatever, just keep the dialogue going. They want to talk about it.

But would that satisfy the students who feel their liberties from religion are infringed? I'm curious...

It took me aback that this new article states that Whaley (the student at the center of all this...stay strong and ignore the burka comments, Allison!) was "initially upset" about the teeshirts. Perhaps that is why one of the ignorami thinks a teacher should be fired over this? Could they be referring to the poor art teacher? That would get me truly riled up. 

I had thought that the Dispatch conflated the two issues--Jesus picture and teeshirts--and Whaley's argument was solidly about the picture. I can see, though, how one might lead to the other. The fateful teeshirt project, for which art students chose hot topics like gay rights and abortion, is one of those bigger issues that the school should address. More on that later...

religion on the brain

I have a confession: I'm addicted to The Tudors, and not because it's a Showtime boink-fest. As a student of history, I love to see certain events brought to life, and I love dissecting the writers' liberties taken with historical figures even more. Aside from Henry's many wives and affairs, I think the series made manifest the Reformation and the religious struggles on both sides--Catholic and Protestant--in brilliant fashion.

Along with indulging my Tudors craving, I have also been teaching religious art in my class these past few weeks. In fact, more than one student has, privately, expressed surprise that I put images of Jesus Christ and churches and pages from the Koran up on the screen in front of them. They were surprised, not because they were offended by the images or my lectures, but because they expected others to be offended. How unusual, I thought. Then again, I've been trying to goad them all into making their first impressions known, in order to teach them how first impressions often need to be modified. Essentially, I too was betting at least someone would be offended; I played audio of someone reading from the Koran, for Pete's sake. More on that another time...

Perhaps it is wrong of me to expect some students to be ill-informed about Islam or Christianity, considering my own fear of being pegged a Christian simply because of where I grew up and the family I belong to. It's all so timely, to be teaching religious art and immersing myself in religious history when I came across the article about my high school's current troubles. Of course I immediately shared the article with a lengthy rant. It was liked by a very diverse sampling of my friends, both conservative and liberal. I take this as a sign of success, up to the point that I trust no one has made any assumptions about my religious views.

Has humanity changed much in the last five hundred years? In the last thousand? The more I read, and the more I teach it, the more I believe history is repeating itself. In the 16th century, it was reformers like Martin Luther versus the papacy. Today, it's the religious right versus...well, secular heathens like myself. That's what Bill O'Reilly would call me. I've referred to myself as agnostic in the past, never atheist (that term has a PR problem, for sure...more like getting-religious people-to-understand problem). I think I need a new label these days, so now--maybe it's the historical drama binge talking--I call myself a Humanist.

Humanists value learning above all else. Learning leads to improving oneself and one's community. The humanism of the 16th century highlights, for me, a time in history when great minds realized that learning (particularly of Classical culture once deemed too pagan), is not contrary to religious practice. It is, however, contrary to religious dogma.

I cannot let go of the issues presented in the article. I cannot, as an art historian, abide by the removal of a potentially educative image from a school. I cannot simply join the side of the ACLU, the perceived "liberal secular progressive" side. I cannot stomach the calls for prayers for JG, as if the school is battling Satan and his legions. I'm trying to present a nuanced view of a very complicated situation in my own hometown. So, I want to ask my high school: Dear JG, are you spreading dogma, or are you encouraging learning?

Insisting that New Concord is a Christian community is dogmatic. Not to mention exclusionary (and that's where you bump into the First Amendment clause). Trumpeting the commemorative nature of a religious image is a pathetic attempt to cling to that dogma while hiding from it at the same time. Berating students who have raised their concerns about the constitutionality of a religious image in a public school, telling them to "get out of my country," is just plain wrong. So within the next few weeks, I hope to do some research on the side about the many issues at play in my high school today. And I hope I clarify the points I made in my rant, making plain that I am not on Team Christianity, and not really on Team ACLU. I'm on Team Let-the students-have-a-voice.

dissing the dissemination of ignorance

From the Facebook community oddly titled "PATRIOT" (sic).

The meme on the right is complete garbage. When I first saw it in my feed, I thought, oh my gosh, where am I going to start with this one? I quickly realized that this merited more than the average share + mock strategy I have used before.


[WARNING: Knowledge follows...]

Now, I'm all for patriotism. I'm all for voters being aware of the values and views of the candidates they support. This, however, does not educate voters. It sucks their brain cells dry. The page that posted this (although I cannot cite them as the originators), simply says "PATRIOT - One who loves, supports and defends one's country." It's a nice thought, but again...how does comparing an American president to Hitler support or defend the United States?

Silly me, I don't even need to bother with that question. This particular instance of Obama=Hitler is predicated on the (sadly) bold statement: "Only two people in history had their own symbols." This is where I can tear this whole thing to shreds. And others have attempted it within Facebook comments, only to be called names, naturally.

Call me art historian. That means I am fully capable of denouncing the statement as blatantly false. Point number one: "Only two people?" Please. The Queen of England has a symbol--her coat of arms. Caesar had his Eagle. But let's cut to the quick here. I'm talking about a man from a backwater of the Roman Empire, born approximately in the year 1 AD. You might know him as Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus Christ, or simply Jesus, your Lord and Savior. They say "know your audience," and I know that the main audience for tripe like the meme above tend to be religious. Here are just three symbols used within the same scope of "history" the meme claims:

Chi Rho Iota

Christian Cross

Ichthys (Fish)

So let's examine these symbols and see if they fit the bizarrely ominous tone of the meme. The Chi Rho Iota, which combines the first three Greek letters of the name Christ, is credited for the emperor Constantine's victory at the Milvian Bridge. He had a vision of the Chi Rho Iota in the sky that convinced him to use the symbol as his standard. Constantine went on to declare Christianity a legal religion in the empire, ending persecutions of Christians. Not exactly Hitler material. The Ichthys, also Greek, is a simple fish that Christians would use to identify themselves to fellow Christians before the religion became dominant in the Roman world. It too is based on the Greek name of Jesus: Iesus Christos, Theo Yios, Soter (Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior). Again, an innocuous image with a great history. All it takes is a little reading.

Now the Cross, we can really sink our teeth into that. It has also become a major symbol for Jesus and Christianity as a whole, but Early Christians actually preferred the Chi Rho Iota and Ichthys to the Cross. To a Roman citizen, it would be like looking at an image of an electric chair. Crosses were standard execution equipment for political dissidents, and the cross as a symbol, the Crucifix in particular, was quite rare in Christian art before the 5th century AD.

My point is that symbols are not just drawings or letters combined in clever designs. They have many layers of meaning. Some meanings are positive, while some meanings are very negative, like the Cross would have been to the Romans. The Swastika also has many layers. Before it was appropriated by the National Socialist Party in the 1920s, the Swastika was a sacred symbol to Hindus and Buddhists, among other eastern religions. In Sanskrit, svastika means "good fortune," and today you can see it on statues of Buddha. Hardly a sign of impending genocide. Send Heinrich Schliemann to do archaeological work in Turkey, though, and boom, this poor symbol is distorted into an image of Aryan purity. Good luck turns into bad juju when Germans are looking for their ancient ancestors.

Back to the meme version of the Swastika: I think the creator of this image is noticing some basic geometric coincidences. The circular forms of both make for a great comparison; they must mean the same thing! It's a pretty big leap, though, from form to politics. They make that gargantuan jump because they add their own negative layer to Obama's campaign symbol. In it they see progressive, gun-grabbing Fascism/Socialism/any scary -ism you can think of. No symbol is created in a vacuum. We influence them as much as they influence us.

Symbols are all around us. We are bombarded by images that stand for ideas, people, and places, so it is completely ludicrous to narrow the entire visual history of the human race down to two symbols to make a faulty political point. Spreading this as a meme on social media is tantamount to shouting lies on a street corner: "2+2=5! Why? Because Obama is a Muslim!" It doesn't take much to stop and think about what you find online. So I end with a plea: please think before you share such memes in the future. Be skeptical, especially when someone is making a Hitler comparison.

multiplicity of memorials

There is going to be a religious symbol at the Ohio Statehouse. At the same time, I am surprised that there is so little debate, and I am not surprised that this flies below the radar of so many Ohioans. Ever since hearing the words “memorial” or “monument” on the news broadcast, I have felt the need to read more about it and write this in order to get input from friends. (Instead of anonymous, spelling-impaired internet commenters.)

It’s especially on my mind this week, with the anniversary of 9/11. The designer of Ohio’s Holocaust Memorial is none other than Daniel Libeskind, master planner of the World Trade Center site and victim of many of the aforementioned internet comments. For now, I'm shying away from tearing into the articles and editorials, those covering reactions of atheists and the grumblings of Richard Finan. For one, I'm still unclear whether the "mock-up" actually originated from a Libeskind suggestion or what. And does it matter?

From the information Libeskind's studio provides online, the steel verticals “have a cut-out form of a bisected hexagram (six-pointed) star,” with no mention of the shape’s religious significance. Is this a conscious avoidance of religion considering the public site? Considering the universality that many monument designers work toward?

I wish I could grant Libeskind that benefit of the doubt, but my research into commemoration with abstraction shows that what is abstract is not necessarily “tolerantly vague.” In addition to my quoting of Karal Ann Marling’s work on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, I’d like to point out that vague is not what we need here. Unless I’m mistaken, the connection between Ohio’s people and the Holocaust deserves a bit more explanation.

And we do get some insight from the Ohio Jewish Communities in these words: “Inspired by the Ohio soldiers who were part of the American liberation and survivors who made Ohio their home.” But allow me to pose the question: does it have to be at the Statehouse? Why not in areas with a more explicit Jewish heritage, in Columbus or even Cincinnati or Cleveland?

Let’s think about the case for Columbus, and the Statehouse in particular.

As I was perusing the Statehouse website, this made me laugh: “the magnificent Greek Rival Capitol Building.” Surely they meant “Revival,” but I digress. The strongest statement I found that might be useful here is: “The monuments and statues on Capitol Square depict the values, ideals and desires of the Ohioans who commissioned and designed them.” Surely, all Ohioans share the values and ideals that prevent genocide. Surely, by remembering millions as well as individuals, we take part in a global effort never to forget and never to repeat.

The Libeskind monument does not conflict with what is already there, in terms of a “history of the common person.” In that way, it is a recognition of Ohio’s Jewish community, especially those who found homes in this state after the war.

From what I have seen and what I remember about the Statehouse, art and design at Capitol Square has held on to the Neoclassical style that played such a large part in the early history of Ohio and the United States. The closest to conceptual or contemporary seems to be the curving walls of the Veterans Plaza.

The larger problem might not be the angular, abstract forms of the Libeskind design, but the zeroing in on a Jewish story. If the monument is to “teach people about man’s inhumanity to man,” there are, as many internet commenters and trolls have pointed out, a myriad of stories about that same inhumanity. Some are more recent, such as events in Darfur, and some were driven by forces other than differences of religion, such as the genocide in Rwanda.

The one thing that we have to hold on to, if this monument is to be included at Capitol Square, is the connection to Ohio. Anecdotally, the concept as it stands is more strongly connected to Ohio and Ohioans than, say, a memorial to the victims of Rwanda. However, are the visual elements reinforcing that anecdotal connection, then broadening the issue out beyond a particularly Jewish story into an Ohioan story? Or do the visual elements, with their lack of classicism, drive those who are least likely to relate to a Jewish story even further from understanding the lesson the OJC wishes to convey?

It’s my historical understanding that those taken to concentration camps include more than Jews: the Roma, the disabled, homosexuals, and others deemed “undesirable” in Aryan society. How much stronger would the monument be, and how much more aligned with American ideals, if the words and the images told stories of the Holocaust that remind us how hatred has many inspirations, religious and ethnic and beyond?

The monument would be truly universal, touching on our common history and relating quite directly to political and social issues facing Ohio today. It’s those issues, after all, that the Statehouse was built for in the first place. 

*Since I began ranting and writing this summer, Iowa has beat us to the punch. Hey, being first isn't everything.

Through the wormhole with trepidation...

As much as I adore Morgan Freeman and his show on the Science channel, last week’s episode burst my grammar-elitist bubble. The episode focuses on what alien life might be like: how they feel, how they think, how they communicate, and, essentially, what constitutes life. It was the segment on language that got me.

“Rebel linguist” Simon Kirby demonstrated his research into language evolution using a simple game of telephone. Or, as he called it, “broken telephone.” It worked much as you might expect, with his initial message being garbled by the end. But he didn’t consider that a matter of miscommunication; rather, he saw his phrase evolve as it was passed from person to person. And the manner of this evolution? The phrase became shorter and simpler. Sure, it made no sense, but how many idiomatic phrases do we have these days that make just as little sense?

So language’s evolution is simplification, or becoming easier to learn. Here’s my issue:

Are language purists going against evolution? I’m not just thinking about myself, correcting with my pens the awkward phrasing of my students, but also of “higher” powers that have sought to preserve languages like English and French. I think back to my French teacher, Mrs. Klein, describing the horrors of le parking and le weekend. I think of my own recent insistence on wheel barrow as opposed to “wheel barrel,” as a silly facebook meme put it.

Kirby continued to shoot holes in my elitism, asserting that every mistake makes the language easier to learn for the next generation. Oh no, will the OED some day accept "wheel barrel"?! Sure, make those mistakes for the good of your children! Professors just get in the way of change!

So, do I put my pens down?

I so badly want to hear Kirby speak about any implications for academia: how will we (the academics) change in order to go with the flow of evolution? Or are we already part of it? Is there any such thing as correct grammar, spelling, syntax, vocabulary...so long as the idea is put across successfully? And how do we define “successfully,” in light of these evolutionarily necessary mistakes?

Kirby imagines that we will become “more and more stupid biologically, and more and more smart culturally” (my emphasis). I can get on board with that. I have always reveled in the knowledge that humankind’s first cultural endeavors were images, not words. Images that do the work of thousands of words, whether we as historians know the “correct” text or not. Perhaps, if we meet a far more linguistically and culturally advanced civilization, they will communicate in shorter, simpler forms while expressing bigger, more complex ideas as so many artists have striven to do.

Midnight in Ohio

After watching Midnight in Paris, I’m a little too listless to sleep. The film offers a lot of eye candy: shots of Paris, of course, Versailles, and Giverny. I absolutely adored the endless cameos by the likes of Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Dalí. And I must say, Kathy Bates makes a wonderful Gertrude Stein.

All of that brought back my yearning to see more of the world. Not just Paris, but...everything. All places, all times. I suppose that’s what drew me to studying the history of art, and not art itself. I often wish I could have lived in a different time; in fact, my mother did say I was born 25 years too late. I even remember discussing it with an old friend who was horrified that I’d like to have lived in Victorian London. Historical geekdom aside, it’s Paris that has me unwilling to sleep right now.

In the film, Gil finds himself in his Golden Age: Paris in the Twenties. Yet, the woman he meets, Adrianna, has a Golden Age of her own: La Belle Epoque of the late nineteenth century. And Degas and company? They yearn for the Renaissance. The present, to Gil and famous artists alike, is dull and dreary compared to the past.

I just might be in a predicament similar to Gil, though in terms of place instead of time.

The grass is always greener, they say, in someone else’s field. I definitely believe that. My recent trip to New York, not to mention living in New York, is evidence of my desire and willingness to be anywhere but Ohio. Yet I found myself a little tired of New York as well. If things were different for me right now...oh, if only...I’d probably be on to the next wondrous place. Paris? London? And I’d have to ask myself: to visit or to stay?

Is there some fatal romantic flaw, like the Golden Age syndrome, that keeps one dissatisfied not with their present time, but with their present place? If no one else has named it yet, I shall call it Greener Pasture syndrome. Perhaps it is GP syndrome that makes me feel like a stranger in my hometown. And in my college town. And in my graduate school town. Will I never feel at home?

Whatever you call them, both “flaws” seem to be part of the larger battle for self-acceptance, which I hear is a good thing to strive for. That, and slapping Michael Sheen’s pedantic character upside the head.

Mother's Thoughts II

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, 29

Mother’s Day has just passed, and with it, bittersweet memories heightened by the well-wishes of friends to their mothers and all mothers. Now the memories are at the “usual” level. But I find it fitting to turn back to my mother’s thoughts at a moment, late at night, when I am in conflict with my own. Her meticulous handwriting brings comfort, and the sensation of holding a book and paper that she once held helps to shake off some ritual negative thoughts.

I have a library book at my bedside—a quite intriguing book entitled The Age of Insight: The Quest to Understand the Unconscious in Art, Mind, and Brain. While Eric Kandel’s work comes recommended both by an national review and by a faculty member in my department, I am truly frustrated that—in between the paragraphs of the preface—my thoughts drift from art and science to the one-liner I saw today in an email from LinkedIn, of all things.

Why You Shouldn’t Go to Grad School.

Seriously? I know the Universe might be a little miffed at me. Lately, I have been reading my Hitchhiker’s Guide, in which the Universe comes across as rather absurd, but to keep tossing this in my face? Really.

I have two main sorrows, if that isn’t a contradiction in terms: the absence of my mother and the loss at a major gamble I call Columbia. So let’s try to figure out the connection between my sorrows and my joy. Because, according to Gibran, “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”

My rehearsed reaction to the my-MA-is-worthless thought spiral is that I wouldn’t be teaching without it. I wouldn’t be able to call myself professor and associate myself with a renowned university. I also wouldn’t have the extra cares such a vocation brings, like wondering why students toss their papers in the trash. I do find joy there, though. I talk and write about art. What could be better? I read about it, think about it in new ways, learn to explain it differently than it was explained to me. Could I do that without the MA and all the (shameful) sorrow?

My mind counters with this: I just saw a post from a former classmate showing her all classy, fashionable, and curatorial. What did I do today? Well, I toted geraniums and verbena in the back of my car for my grandmother and got mad at myself for not being the perfect trim- and window-painter. Provincial, small-potatoes. No need for the MA there.

I do not need anyone to put me in my place. Now, that is something I obtained in graduate school. My delusions of grandeur are safe within my mind, never to be acted upon.

It’s far too soon to come to any worthwhile conclusions about this particular topic. That won’t stop me from trying, but I’m pretty sure I’d have to give it a few more decades and look back on this period in time. The period I interchangeably refer to as rural exile, underemployment, and, perhaps, spiritual grounding.

Where is the delight? I believe I’ve found some in rediscovering a relationship, something impossible without my return to Ohio. I may not be a jet-setting curator, and probably shouldn’t be, but I have begun (tenuously) to imagine a simpler though just as fulfilling future. And despite the conservative talking points, it has been a joy to forge a stronger bond with my father. That is one big use of the word “despite,” though. On that note, I hope I am a better political thinker than the other stereotypical liberals in their ivory towers. I can operate in a conservative, rural world because I was born here, and, at the moment, I have to operate here.

I’m interested in determining which period of time taught me more: the fabulous days of Columbia or the rural exile. And I have successfully exited the thought spiral for tonight.

framed

Today I wound up talking to a retired professor of history for twenty minutes instead of just zipping out of the adjunct office space. He is a fascinating guy, and he offered insight into teaching students in our area. When he started teaching, he made a lot of waves by giving Ds and Fs instead of just passing students during a time when branches really earned their bad reputations. He talked about challenging students who really needed it, and not sweating those students that you just don’t reach. He also praised me for showing students how there is more to the world beyond Ohio. I felt accepted and worthwhile, and I do hope that at least a few students leave my class aware of a larger sense of human culture.

I realized that maybe this was the frame that I've been missing. I hit a wall when I made a feeble attempt at writing about local art; that wall was made of a mixture of self-doubt and inspiration without direction. I thought  it would be arrogant to think my express purpose is to spread culture to these students. As if I have returned from Manhattan, climbed down from the mountaintop, to preach my secular religion. But hearing another teacher chatting about the opportunity to bring my New York experience into my work as a positive made me realize that it’s all about the frame. I’m not here to impose my views, but to help other students replicate the same kind of journey I made: outward, beyond, further.

Perhaps coming to terms with leaving New York could also bring me to terms with my new purpose. I want to encourage critical thinking, literacy, self-expression, and above all, curiosity. I hope that, eventually, I’ll write some of my own personal insight about local art here, but I’m going to frame it with the differences between home and the outside world. Zanesville to New York, Ohio to the East Coast. And maybe I’ll prove to a few students that they truly are connected to the world beyond this town, all while proving to some people outside that there is more to this country than its coasts.

thoughts on trying to be an academic

Yesterday would have been a lovely day to drive down to Athens (Ohio, that is), yet unfortunately I was stuck at home doing laundry, writing an exam and generally vegging out.  Today is a gray day, and being at work in Zanesville would have prevented me from such a road trip anyway.  I'm thinking about Athens because I was invited (with every other faculty and staff member, I'm nothing special), to a brown-bag meeting of sorts at Alden Library.  The topic was "Using Principles of Design to Rethink Powerpoint," which I figured would be interesting, even if I don't teach long-term.

With today's lovely technology, I was able to watch the talk online.  And inevitably, everything the speaker said made me think in my head, "Yes, but for an art history lecture..."  The presenter is a professor of communications, and he extended his points to other subjects such as biology, business and chemistry, but nothing was mentioned about art history.  If I were brave (and if my computer were equipped with a microphone) perhaps I would have chimed in. 

Some things did make sense for all subjects; such as, using properties of narrative and compare/contrast to tie the information together.  I do that all the time, naturally I think.  Especially when I obliterate the order in which images are printed in the book.  And one rule I go by every week:  if your students could print out your Powerpoint and have all the information without your spoken words, you're doing something wrong. 

However, a lot of things said and presented are the exact opposite of what I do, and I'm hesitant to make those changes.  For example, he mocked the concept of black backgrounds, calling it his "Dark Period."  Now I use black not to be "artsy" but to give a better view of the details and colors in each image.  White just messes it all up.  And I don't have a lot of graphics and charts and captions and text...that's just part and parcel of an art history lecture.  It's all about the image.  Period.  I try to mix things up with video and real artist's tools and supplies, but really, it's all about those slides.  I just don't have the luxury of turning off the projector like I'm sure some other professors do.

I'm not a graphic designer, and neither is the presenter.  He did gave a line that cracked me up, though:  "I'm not an expert in graphic design, but I know enough to be dangerous."  If I were able, I'd be happy to use the Rule of Thirds, etc.  But when my slides are paintings, sculpture and views of architecture, I see no harm in exact centering.  Sometimes I'd like to use different fonts and effects, but that takes away from the art, which is not only a visual aid, but the topic of discussion itself...

I guess art history is really that unique.

shop talk

There are days when I do not get so bitter about working at a department store.  Granted, these days are rare.  And numbered, since I will be embarking on a more idealist-friendly quest to teach art history at a local university branch and wiggle my way back into the non-profit sector.  These are the kinds of things that I find more substantial and beneficial to society than soliciting credit card applications.

Don't get me wrong.  A lot of great people work in department stores.  The kind of people who make anything and everything a fun experience, make you feel welcome, and have a knack for socializing (that's key to customer service, and the reason I sometimes get frustrated with it).  I wanted to rant about somebody who is not one of these fun people, then Sunday happened, and I once again saw the bright side.  Even when comparing notes on dealing with less-than-cooperative customers, the fun people really lighten the retail burden.  Even when I have not suckered any poor souls into an application, they treat me as one of them and even tell a customer "We're lucky to have her."  Now, of course I know that no manager would share their real opinions about an employee to a customer, but I enjoyed the moment (so don't take that from me!)

Now I am trying to squeeze in thinking time for lecture-planning between working hours...I had the hardest time turning my brain off Tuesday night in preparation for a super-early morning.  Then, of course, once the monotonous under-employment commenced, I felt acutely less energized and enthusiastic about the future.  But I have a few good ideas for alternative learning modes.  One is sending the students to local churches to compare what they find with the Italian Baroque.  (I have yet to visit some of these churches myself to even determine if there is anything for them to analyze.)  And I want to assign some sort of internet activity to engage them long-distance in some of the heavy-hitters of the museum world:  the Prado, Musee d'Orsay, even the Vatican.

Before I set anything in stone, though, I need to figure out how to cram four centuries into nine lectures.  Yes, Veterans Day will be cheating me out of my ten-week quarter.  Compared to nasty shoppers, though, this is a good problem.

I'm trying to take the advice of a museum blog on this site, as well as fulfill that idealist nagging inside of me, to branch out beyond the sorts of jobs you find on an employment website.  I'm trying to live spherically, as the phrase from Under the Tuscan Sun goes.  I have grand plans to infiltrate a local gallery, perhaps, and volunteer.  I'd also love to blog about my non-profit work coming up, but I'm unsure whether that is ethical, considering I also use this thing to rant politically, sometimes.  We'll see about that soon.  We'll see if I can be the sort of inspiring and "different" teacher that I have in my mind's eye.  Wish me luck.

Aren't we all hard-working Americans?

All right, I suppose I understand that all government expenditures are under a harsh lens these days...but can Congress really shut down PBS and NPR?  I've heard that NPR's income, though partly Federal funding, is largely from private donations.  You know, their tag line is "this program was made possible by viewers like you."  That counts as acknowledging taxpayers as much as donors, in my view.

I'm really concerned that institutions like these as well as museums and non-profits are the first on the chopping block.  Isn't there a number out there circulating that such funding makes up maybe 10% of the Federal budget?  And then there's teachers, who, unlike Saturday-night babysitters, earn on average $1.24 per child per hour.  And these are the first cuts?  Sheesh.

I should know by now that not everyone has the same priorities as I do.  And not everyone thinks of the world in the same way.  I quickly learned that "grown-ups" don't always get it right.  I find it really sad that I have to be surrounded by like-minded "young people" to be taken seriously.  Even then, I'm not sure I wow people the way I used to.  I may have little tidbits of prestige on the resume, but for some, even Columbia doesn't impress.  In terms of art history, it should be hallowed for Meyer Shapiro, who earned the first doctorate in the field.  Some just shrug it off.  (One in particular I am pretty sure was just trying to sleight me...and it worked)

None of this is really connected, unless you count the issue of prestige when deciding which jobs count and which do not.  Teachers should be pretigious, as well as other "cultural workers" out there in libraries and museums that make the world a little less stark.  Even though it isn't only good old boys now, it seems there is still a secret kabal of good old boys and girls that won't let me in.  Not that I want in.  I just want to make a career and a living without fearfully wondering if the majority of Americans think my career choices are worthless.

Without even having a "first career" unless you count internships and temporary posts, I seem to have been redirected like so many other Americans...but without decades of income behind me.  I feel like I'm in limbo.  Maybe I'm being directed to less of an arts-themed career and more of a service one (although I still don't see much difference...), and my latest attempt to organize a Heifer Project event is a sign pointing in that direction.  I'll serve...but I can't volunteer for the rest of my life.  And apparently I'm too educated to be a shop girl.  Dang it.

censored

I've been meaning to post "A Fire in My Belly," the video that was recently pulled from an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery.  (Unfortunately the library is blocking YouTube...go figure)  I want to post it to show my support for the museum and artists everywhere who battle censorship.  I also want to praise the Wexner Center for displaying the "banned" video that has certain stuffy lawmakers threatening the Smithsonian's funding.

It's not my place to explain the video or its relevance.  I will say that these lawmakers and religious officials have fallen into one of the booby traps of contemporary art.  You should never let yourself be fooled by the first glance, by one moment among many in an entire video loop, and fail to examine the issue that is the artist's true subject.  So, Right Wing, you have been duped into a false sense of superiority and righteous indignation, when the indignation is truly and rightfully directed at you and all who ignore the suffering of others. You are the ants crawling around, ignorant of the importance of other issues.

So let the video make you feel revulsion and disgust, and then ask yourself "why do I feel this?"  Don't stop watching, don't reply to me with religious damnation.  Keep watching and think about the issues.  Think about the analogy of Christ suffering amid intolerance and scorn to the suffering of millions of HIV and AIDS patients, also amid intolerance and scorn.

This video is not anti-religion or anti-Christian.  It is, however, pro-human.  Think about that.

bookish

Lately I've been stumbling through Museums in a Troubled World:  Renewal, Irrelevance or Collapse? by Robert R. Janes.  Of course the topic interests me because it has to do with my future/lack of career, and I've also been asking myself, if museums could be irrelevant, could I also be irrelevant?  As a museum worker, that is.  Now I haven't finished, because I've been distracted by rereading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but I just had a thought...

Janes is from a more ethnological background; he's involved in museums of natural and cultural history, so there is no real mention of art museums specifically.  But of course that doesn't mean the two types of institution aren't suffering from the same entropy.  And I've been questioning my own understanding of contemporary art anyway, after years of reading job descriptions that ask for a "deep understanding of contemporary art."  My latest conclusion is that I don't know a damn thing, despite all the education and gallery-hopping.  My problem with contemporary art is not just that it always seems so inaccessible to the general public (and it is beyond difficult to coax this same general public into viewing contemporary art as anything but foreign), but that it doesn't have the same historical value (as Riegl would put it) as the objects in an anthropological or archaeological exhibit.  Humans have been making art for a while now, yet the oldest of the old once served a purpose other than expression.  Caveat:  that is what scholars have surmised.  If indeed the paintings at Lascaux were pure expression and had nothing to do with hunting prowess or ritual, then it's all good.  No argument here.  However, the dominant wisdom points to ritual purposes, the precursors of religion, if you will.  Up through art history, art has served as a devotional tool, a civic unifier, and a commercial venture.  That's why any talk of self-expression seems flat to me.  If contemporary art has no ritualistic background, no purpose other than the proverbial "art for art's sake," then I have trouble seeing it (as a whole) as the visual products of a culture.  I often wonder if museums in the next few centuries will group our art geographically, chronologically, or otherwise.  Would it make sense to them?

And now as I read through, none of this makes sense.

tornado

I had another tornado dream yesterday...right before I woke up.  It happened on the farm, as they always do, and this time my sisters and I were out on the hill when I saw the funnel cloud form.  We ran back to the house, where there were a whole lot of strange people, and I had trouble convincing everyone (as usual) to go down to the basement.  Funny enough, after the storm, there was still a large uprooted tree floating around in slow motion.  The trunk tapped against the front door, just as I peered out of it.  Talk about weird.

There are a lot of weird things going on that I feel I have no control over...which is one interpretation of tornadoes in dreams I believe.

The most benign is of course my lack of organization around the house.  It sure looks like a tornado hit.  More importantly, I'm about to be unemployed again.  In a way, though, it will be a relief, because my job has caused me a lot of extra stressing over my own inabilities to affect change.  I wanted to do some good for that institution that gave me my first job.  Sort of like returning the favor.  But it's in this downward spiral that I don't think any one girl, no matter how smart or educated, could unwind.  It will take a village, literally, to save the museum.  Sadly, half the villagers either don't know or don't care.

I know I need to be more regimented.  Especially with editing the thesis.  It started out as the Sword of Damocles hanging over my head.  Now its more like the ICBM of Damocles.  What is stopping me?  I don't think I can even answer that now.  I was thinking about New York, as I usually do, and it seemed so far away...so unreal.  Did I ever really live there?

The application for my teaching license renewal asked "Have you lived in Ohio continuously for the past five years?"  Technically, no.  But on paper, yes.  I never became a permanent resident of New York.  With one little flick of my pen, I sort of erased those two years in the Big Apple.  Like it never really happened.  I want so badly to go back, if only to visit.  But it's been a year, and I'm afraid there won't be a place there for me.  I have to remember:  people are friends in spots.  And my spot is gone.

I'll keep sending out emails and resumes and applications.  But will it ever get me anywhere?  I have no control over that.  Sure, I control what I write to potential employers.  But I can't control my competitors...all of the millions of them.  Some pad their resumes.  Some "know" people.  I feel unprepared and ill-equipped to make it in this "job market."

Maybe I'm too naive.  Too idealist.

And I have no control over my "manfriend" leaving for Cleveland.  Maybe it would have been a shorter blog entry to list the things I can control, like the color of my toenails, for example.

shoot! I forgot what I wanted to write...

So as an art educator/museum person am I really doing my job when the only people who come to my open-ended informal Q&A talks are family members?  That's been bothering me all weekend.

Just how do I go about reaching the people who need to be reached?  Step 1:  work at a better institution.  I've got a dozen applications floating around in the ether (at least that's how it feels when everything is electronic), and I'm unsure whether I should make follow-up calls.  Rats.

Y-Bridge Festival was all right.  I guess when you've got a funny-shaped bridge that you can partially close off without completely disrupting traffic, you have to stage an arts festival there.  I bought a really cool collage that reminds me of the architecture days.  And now all I want to do is snip up old maps and magazines and make collages of my own.  I did my best impression of a salesman at the booth...just trying to whip up some community support.  And the band did play my favorite karaoke song:  I Want You to Want Me.

I'm slowly digging out of my lack of organization.  The room is almost liveable again.  Now if I could only stop being so uncomfortable about the clothes in my closet (and on my floor), I might actually wake up in a good mood.  I'm just not liking what I've got.

I have to see the movie Eat Pray Love.  HSN would like to think that buying stuff over the telephone is equivalent to traversing the world, but I know they're wrong.  Every time I see the trailer on television I want to get the heck out of Dodge and see something.  Anything.  I really have to wonder at this point...will I ever see the world?  Or did I miss my opportunity, now that my twenties are drawing to a close?  The sisters say they're happy right where they are.  Good for them, but not for me.  Right now I don't even like my closet.

Dad was watching Huckabee last night.  One of the guests was talking about how God saved him from the "demon of murder,"  after he brutally murdered a woman in the 70s.  Now he's free and preaching.  Only one thing comes to mind when I see Huckabee.  Theocracy.  Why is it that the various Protestant sects that emerged out of the Reformation are just as tyrannical and corrupt as the Church they rejected?

Topic for next time, I think.

art outside the museum

After a mediocre attempt to generate some excitement in the community about art (I failed to reel in any new fish, just the usual suspects), I was massively entertained by the art historical references in some unusual places.  Namely Futurama and The Simpsons.  Now, of course the Futurama episode in which the gang goes to "Future Roma" (haha), is a spoof of The Da Vinci Code, so it's indirectly art historical, but still.  In fact, the more I think about that show, which has wormed its way into my brain via a certain man's obsessive zeal, it's an incredible example of cartoon culture analyzing our own cultural identity.  Flipping the story of Leonardo Da Vinci on its head is only one instance in which those crazy writers and animators nerd out and inject history into the comedy. 

And really, if we could just blame all the art thefts and general badness on Mr. Burns, wouldn't life be swell?

Aside from playing "Twister" on a bunch of animated oil paintings--"Left hand Rembrandt!"--The Simpsons has always thrown a wrench in the typical lower class identity of Homer and Co. by revealing tiny moments of cultural awareness on the part of their characters.  I for one wouldn't mind having one of those characters come to an ArTalk.  But there are some real life people who just can't open their minds far enough.

Funny how you can find art on television.  Maybe that's why all the big museums now have LCD screens, and there are so many video installations.  That seems to be this century's current medium of choice.  And bridging the gap between oils and animation are a bunch of occasionally vulgar, fictional characters.  But how to use this for the benefit of this particular community, I have no idea...