For most of us, museums are givens. They house great works of art, artifacts from all periods of history, things that are somehow important, culturally significant. Yet they embody in them a sort of unquestioned authority, something that manages to shape our perceptions of the things they display without our ever really being aware of its even happening.

When objects are removed from their original contexts, they are uprooted, unanchored, available for meaning and significance and narratives to be redefined, recast. Every setting has the power to describe its object. A scattering of pots on the floor is not accorded the same importance as a single pot sitting by itself on a plinth. Are things displayed in a corner, along the wall, in the center of the room? Are they lit (or not lit) in any particular fashion? If all the displays are spaced very far apart, each individual item gains a sort of weight. It’s like those dishes in high-end establishments where you get a thumb-sized filet of something (albeit an aesthetically pleasing something) that covers ten percent of the plate’s surface area. We assume it’s nice because it’s been marked out as something unique, important.

These are all rather ambiguous frames, but they do just the same work as the literal picture frame, which tells us what to pay attention to and what to pass over. Even if the wall has designs on it, even if the painting is about as interesting as the wall, you look at the painting, not the wall. Placards and other accompanying text oddslot function similarly. The Plexiglas box is a utilitarian object (a bench), not part of the exhibit (some sort of rumination on the human condition) because it has not been marked. It does not say, look at me, contemplate me. We refrain from treating it poorly out of consideration for other people’s property, not because it has gained some sacred status.

And the text itself, naturally, has an entirely different power in its ability to shape how we contemplate things in museums. Even the fact that an object is in a museum, as opposed to someone’s private collection (a Bronze Age artifact), or on the street (any sort of art— what even is or isn’t art?), says something about the worth it is given. We, the general public, on the whole have little specialized knowledge, little background on the things museums display. We look to museums to be authorities on their subjects. Indeed, the great majority of the time, they certainly are. But this relationship, the one between the things and the museums and us, is often invisible. We don’t see it, and we certainly don’t think about it.

So, I’m sure by now almost everyone on campus has heard about the student roaming through Angell Hall in fatigues, a gas mask and empty ammunition pack. Alarmed by this student, the police were called in, and although any evidence of foul play was dismissed, the student claiming to be playing a joke, I can’t help but feel a terrible sense of disarm at what occurred. The student may have claimed ot be playing a joke, but the implications of his action were monumentally more significant than he was aware of, clearly. Did he intend for the police to be involved, for the entire campus to shudder in fear? Maybe, maybe not.

The student claims that his joke stems from a desire to play against Valentine’s Day, the hallmark holiday that invariably leaves singles feeling all the more alone and those in relationships an excuse to buy presents and lavish in one another’s presence. Either way, the holiday has developed into an one filled with anxiety, whether one is in a relationship or not. But so much so that a student felt the need to act out in this fashion? I’m honestly shocked. With the degree of violence happening around the nation in the last decade, a joke like this is inarguably not funny.

All this makes me wonder, however, whether the real culprit in this prank is Valentine’s Day itself. Does the holiday put such pressure on all that these types of actions are merely par for the course? It’s truly hard for me to believe, but if such is the case, does that mean we, as Americans, need to rethink the emphasis placed on the holiday? Invariably, people without significant others are going to feel lonely today, and feel that they are alone in being alone (if that makes any sense?) The amount of oddslot drinking or depression induced acts on this day must be higher than on average day (as today’s incident seems to show). So, what’s the answer? Take away the holiday or possibly revise and reframe the way Americans view the holiday and the emphasis placed on it?

For more info: http://www.michigandaily.com/news/police-enter-angell-hall-after-reports-suspicious-behavior

I’m articulating these things because I don’t know if they are entirely clear to me, yet. I hope my personal exploration will be, at the very least, interesting, and at the very best, encouraging. I gladly invite anyone to disagree with me, call me out on poor ideas (or writing), or stare confused.

A while ago, I found some graffiti in a bathroom stall that read “Art is Nothing Permanent.” A few weeks later, the graffiti had reproduced and included such gems as “Art is Permanent Nothing,” “Nothing is Permanent Art,” “Is Art Nothing Permanent?” “Nothing is Permanent Art” and, in a dangerous act of defiance and self-righteousness, “Get your heads out of your asses and add something beautiful to the world!” There is a lot to say about this, it was rather a remarkable find. And in a beautifully cosmic moment, all of that conversation has now been painted over, with only my fond memories and a few pictures I took on my cell phone as proof of it’s existence.

But first I think I’ll address that last bit of writing on the wall – a call to add beauty to the world. While I can’t really argue with the sentiment of that gentle bathroom-goer, I am going to defend the courageous philosophers willing to engaging in a discourse of dangerous thoughts – the thoughts about why art is the way it is and what is permanent about it.

While I do think it’s good to add beautiful things to the world, I’d hate for anyone to do it without thinking first. (Beauty is not why I make art, but if beauty is why you make art, make sure you are thinking about what you are doing.) Art is dangerous and you need to have some understanding of it and your relation to it before you go off and create something as remarkable and potentially destructive as beauty.

But the nonsensical conversation on permanence in art really did get me thinking. It poses an interesting solution to a question I’ve asked myself for a long time – why am I making work that is made for performance? (Originally this was explicitly musical performance, but as of late has expanded to include theatre, performance art and all its variances).

Recorded media makes a lot more sense to create than performance, when you think about it. It can be played back and replicated infinitely – every listen is another authentic and exact experience of the art. Recorded music, at least, has become so ubiquitous that live shows are praised for sounding “just like the record.” (Which is an interesting predicament, because the record was intended to sound like live performance?) Recorded media is the medium by which our generation engages with music, recorded media is the way our generation engages with theatricality, recorded media is portable and hip and new and personal and ever-expanding and something that should appeal to me a lot more than what it does.

So why doesn’t it appeal to me? I think the bathroom graffiti gets close to an answer. The experience of “live” art (whether this means a live performance or the experience of standing in front of a “live” painting) is inherently an impermanent one – an experience that will end. And that makes the moment all the more special. In time based-mediums (like music, performance, theatre, etc…) the element of impermanence is compounded by the reality that time is passing and the moment that existed 3 seconds ago will never be again. It is a constant race of mortality and the passing of time that makes the experience unique and uniquely engaging (no two performance will ever be the same to any of the performers and no two performances will ever be the same to the audience members, even if the material is the same. There are variances in personal, emotional, and temporal states that create literally infinite possibilities for experiencing art). You can stretch this into an idea about mortality – that the impermanence of art reminds us of our own impermanence and thus creates a human connection with something that is not human – but I don’t know how comfortable I am making that bold of a leap. But that truth of impermanence is brutal and fascinating, that truth that art doesn’t exist anymore once we stop engaging with it.

I think this is why digital and recorded mediums don’t interest me as much. They exist in duplicate, they exist in ones and zeros and magnetic forms that I can’t see and I can’t see deteriorate in front of me. This is why (I think) the live art experience (whether it be music, visual art, poetry, etc) is much more engaging. I might change my mind in the future. I have a great love of pop music (a medium which exists very strongly in a recorded form) and want to produce a pop album someday.

This all being said, I must note that recorded media is, in fact, just as impermanent as live performance. The difference is perhaps decay rate. Live experience evaporates before your eyes and recorded media takes much longer before it is consumed by the ether.

But I think that right now my heart lies with performance, with impermanent objects and the constant reminder that the event you are experiencing is entirely unique and undefinable. I think that this is an element of my work that is vital: awareness of its own impermanence.

Which then leads me back to the graffiti on the bathroom stall. Is nothing permanent art? Is the idea of nothing permanent art? Is permanent nothing? Is art simply the awareness of impermanence?

More questions.

This past weekend I visited both the International Erotic Art Exhibition (also called the DIRTY show) in Detroit and the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit (MOCAD).  I feel as though I can say, pretty confidently, that the works exhibited at the MOCAD had a lot more artistic merit than the majority of those at the DIRTY, but regardless, both exhibits essentially posed the same question: what is “art”?

Admittedly, I think that is an extremely stupid, overly simplistic question.  There are a million different avenues you can take to answer it and the secret Marxist in me is hesitant to say that only highly educated art historians and critics have the ability to determine “high art” from “low art” (particularly considering they continually get it wrong; case in point: Bouguereau).  When doing research for my art history degree, sometimes I feel as

though art categorized as “bad” can be the most useful to me, because it tends to be overly reflective of a historical moment or culture and, in critical terms, too obvious.  Too many symbols, too many allegories, etc.

In any case, the DIRTY show is more so asking the question of “What is porn” and where the boundaries lie between art and porn.  About 90% of the works seemed like they were just going for shock value and didn’t seem to have a lot of technique or thought to them.  There were a lot of poorly shot photos of S&M.  Maybe it’s the pretense of labeling these things “Art” that ruins them for me; ironically, I think I could find more artistic value in them if they would just become comfortable with the title of “Porn.”

The MOCAD exhibits were a little more thought provoking.  I love contemporary art and I’m intrigued by the fact that we are still in the process of sorting out its definition.  Many of the works made the same mistake as the DIRTY pieces, wherein they basically become a parody of themselves.  Contemporary art has no shortage of critics and caricatures.  There was one installation in the MOCAD that was simply a banana peel on the ground; the group I was with debated about whether it was an actual piece of art or just a dropped piece of garbage for about 5 minutes.  Maybe the actual “art” being made is just the provocation of the question about what “art” even means.

In light of New York Fashion Week and following Tommy Ton and The Man Repeller on their respective adventures in the highly glamorous and daringly sartorial adventures at Lincoln Center, there are a few women on the University of Michigan campus that possess an eye for the unique and bring creativity to their everyday wardrobes in territory unbeknownst by most women.   While most women crown their heads with long, shiny hair and use it as a safety net for femininity, these women boldly tuck this safety net away, and instead adorn a Hijab in its place.   They use the Hijab as an additional accessory, creating visual interest in an ensemble and embracing the melded culture of their eastern and western make up.

A hijab is the traditional covering for the hair and neck that is worn my Muslim women to guard their modesty.   Traditionally, Islamic women are advised to not display their “beauty,” showcased by their hair, until marriage.

One particular classmate of mine layers her headscarf with feminine black lace, white, and lime green colors. She contrasts this femininity with a tough leather jacket and combat boots, creating an entire ensemble that not only merges cultures, but creates androgynous connotations which ironically is the opposite of what the hijab is meant to do. Another female student was head-to-toe in various floral printed chiffon pieces, creating a flowy, goddess-like outfit. She topped this look with a sequined hijab, generating an air of female empowerment. These women embrace their cultural influences and modernize the way that they are used and seen for the contemporary women.

On a recent episode of Fashion Police, a guilty pleasure television show in E!, Joan rivers and her team comment on Kanye West’s outfit at the Margiela fashion show ad call his head covering “terrorist chic.” A head covering of any kind should not immediately indicate the act of terrorism, or create any kind of generalization about the kind of people who wear head coverings. Even if this is not meant to allude to the use of a Hijab, it is

statements like these in pop culture that influence the way we view those in our everyday life that may wear culturally traditional garments.   Admittedly, Kanye’s choice of a head garment looks ridiculous.  This, however, should be kept separate from the already sensitive cultural stereotypes that we place.

The integration of cultural differences through fashion is something that should be encouraged.     Fashion is a creative outlet, much like painting and writing, which can be used to express feeling, progression, and individuality.   By incorporating cultural pieces, such as the hijab, it creates fashionably intriguing and challenging suits in addition to bold statements about cultural integration.