PICA’s Visual Art Program Director, Kristan Kennedy just got back from her annual pilgrimage to the sprawling art fair that is the Armory Show. When Kennedy travels she sends back stream of consciousness emails about the work she sees to the PICA staff. Occasionally the news is fit to print. In this day by day blog, Kennedy has just landed in her hometown of Brooklyn and takes a trip to the Brooklyn Museum.
Today I went to the Brooklyn Museum with my mom who had a rare day off. We went to see the Hernan Bas show a sprawling survey that includes: little works on paper made with alkyd paints (pushed around into storybook images of lonely boys in some lost world) – larger works which get more elaborate in mark and color – dreamy video works of sailors and mermaids and sculptural works that look like piles of sunken treasures.
Hernan Bas (American, b. 1978). Mystery of the Hollow Oak, 2001. From the series It’s Super Natural. Water-based oil on paper. The Rubell Family Collection, Miami
The show is comprised of 6 rooms and several tiny alcoves jam-packed with works, it could swallow the recent Elizabeth Peyton show at the New Museum whole.
Elizabeth Peyton, Georgia (After Stieglitz 1918), 2006, monotype on handmade paper, 30 x 22 inches
All of the works are from the Rubell collection, which sort of blows my mind. Bas, born in 1978 is still as young as the boys he draws, and it seems like every scrap of paper he touched was snapped up by these and other aggressive collectors. A quick google search will turn up various details, Hernan was born in Cuba and raised in Florida, he graduated from the New World School of the Arts in Miami. (which has to be the best name for an art school ever). He is somewhat of an art world darling, with a billion interviews and party sightings dotting many art blogs and web sites.
Hernan Bas (American, b. 1978). The Burden (I Shall Leave No Memoirs), 2006. From the series Dandies, Pansies and Prudes. Acrylic and gouache on linen. The Rubell Family Collection, Miami
It was in a cavernous gallery at the center of the floor that there was some relief from his relentless images of beautiful boys. Here a five channel video piece took over. Cool blue water rushes in intermixed with synchronized swimming scenes of live mermaids, the kinds that used to perform at theme parks across America. They are undulating through the water in seashell bikini tops and are zipped into spandex fins. Flipping and twisting they look trapped and free at the same time. The only thing that breaks the illusion is the tiny tubes they keep floating towards to inhale little bursts of air.
Upon exiting this underwater land I found myself in the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art a newish space on the museums fourth floor. Here, a thin but well-meaning exhibition Burning Down The House: Building a Feminist Art Collection offered a crash course in Feminist Art. With some important pieces, and an ambitious plan to grow the center it still failed to have the impact that WACK! or the plethora of other Feminist Art surveys did that had swept up the art world a couple of years ago.
Kiki Smith (American, b. Germany, 1954). Born, 2002. Lithograph, edition 4 of 28. Brooklyn Museum, Emily Winthrop Miles Fund, 2003.17
By far the crowning jewel of the center is Judy Chicago’s stunning installation “The Dinner Party” which will live forever at the Brooklyn Museum in a triangular glass room.
Allow me to digress….
A couple of months ago when I was languishing out in outer Brooklyn, I discovered that an express bus to Midtown was right around the corner. I started taking it into the city and was amazed that I had missed out for many a year on this luxurious way to make the hour long commute. I had an entire row of giant plush seats to myself, with high backs and giant window views. At every stop from Ocean Ave in Midwood to Flatbush Ave. it became clear that the only people who took this bus were older, wealthy, Jewish women.
Long furs, bandages from plastic surgery, giant gilded sunglasses and nasal tinged chatter started to fill the bus. I listened to these women’s conversations with rapt attention. The two loudest ladies were right behind me, one was talking about her five husbands, the other was telling her that she could not keep track of them all, they shrieked and laughed, scolded and berated each-other. It was the stuff of great scripts. Flying down East 23rd the conversation turned towards art, one of the women was blabbing about her long ago life as a collector. She loved to travel the world she said. “I love people and art from all ovah the world, you see our bus driver, he is Chinese, when I get awff I’m gonna say ‘sheaaa sheaaa’ [xie xie]. You know what that means? It means ‘thank you;’ I picked up different phrases on my travels.” Her friend was non-plussed which made her pull out all the stops. “I still love to look at art, I went to the Brooklyn Museum last week, I saaaw the most buutiful installation, it was caawled ‘the dinner party’ by Judy Chiiicagggooo, do you know it?…”
The other woman exasperated says, “Oh yeah it was haaariblle, disgusting, lets not tawlk about it.”
The blonde retorts, “Whaaa!? Your insane, it is amazing, it shows the whole history of women, it is awwll handmande, how could you say that? It is a masterpiece, you’re insane.”
The other woman chimes in, “Well , I like what I like. What can I say?”
At this point the blonde pats me on the shoulder. “Do you know about Judy Chicago?” This was my lucky day! I said, “Yes, and I have to agree with you, that piece is a masterpiece.”
She is obviously excited and squeals, “You see! I knew it, it is – it really is. Everyone knows it. What is your problem?”
At this point her friend just scowls, throws up her hand and says “Hmmpf!” then she leans forward and whispers in my ear, “It’s all vaginnnaaas!” obviously horrified. With that the conversation turned to the Housing Works thrift shop and all of the prints and art books and Emanuel Ungaro pants they had found there. Soon it was time to get off the bus and I bid my new friends farewell.
Fast forward to my current position, standing in front of the giant table – yes indeed, the piece is all vaginas. Each place setting, a handmade goblet, fork and knife, needle point and lace table cloths, plates emblazoned, carved and painted. The cloth, the floor, the walls covered in women’s names. Women who painted, protested and suffered, women who wrote the greatest poems, composed Gregorian chants, who changed the course of history, quietly and confidently. Women I learned about from my mother, who was now standing beside me. She could have a place setting of her own, if Judy knew her she might consider it.
It is in this room that I ran into another gaggle of women. They are of the same tribe from the Express bus, I imagine my “friends” telling them about the installation, and of them making a date, getting their hair set, scrawling the orange red lipstick on and heading out to see the piece. I give them a nod and they took it as an invitation to talk to me.
“Are these famous movie stars?
“Did that lady Georgia something paint this?”
I realized that I had to give them an impromptu tour, and took them around the table trying to bring them into the thinking behind the work slowly and steadily. They thanked me for my time and we parted ways. As I left the room, I could hear them shout.
“Awww Hilldeeegaaard!”
“Wasn’t she in that movie? Wasn’t she someone famous?”
My mother started to shout across the table at them, “Noooo Hildegarde of Bingen!!!” If we had only had more time, She would have told them this:
Hildegarde of Bingen
(b. 1098, Böckelheim, Germany; d. 1179, Ruperstberg, Germany)
Hildegarde of Bingen, also known as St. Hildegard and the Sybil of the Rhine, was an enormously influential and spiritual woman, who paved the way for other women to succeed in a number of fields from theology to music. She was a mystic writer, who completed three books of her visions. During a time when members of the Catholic Church accorded women little respect, Hildegarde was consulted by bishops and consorted with the Pope, exerting influence over them.
In 1136, Hildegarde assumed the role of Mother Superior of the convent. In 1147, she moved the convent to Rupertsberg, a town near Bingen, as urged by one of her visions. Although never formally educated and unable to write, Hildegarde quickly became a well-regarded authority and gave influential advice, relying on secretaries to transcribe her ideas onto paper. She was an idolized visionary who earned a saint-like status and name, despite her lack of official beatification.
She wrote on topics ranging from philosophy to natural healing with a critical expertise praised by both German advice-seekers and the highest-ranking figure in the Church, Pope Eugenius III. An esteemed advocate for scientific research, Hildegarde was one of the earliest promoters of the use of herbal medicine to treat ailments. She wrote several books on medicine, including Physica, circa 1150, which was primarily concerned with the use of herbs in medicinal treatment.
Hildegarde may be best known as a composer. Stemming from the traditional incantations of Church music, Hildegarde’s compositions took the form of a single chant-like, melodic line. These compositions are called antiphons and are a single line of music sung before and after a psalm. Hildegarde combined all of her music into a cycle called Symphonia Armonie Celestium Revelationum, circa 1151, or The Symphony of the Harmony of the Heavenly Revelations, which reflects her belief that music was the highest praise to God. Her works, including In Evangelium and O Viridissima Virga, are still released today, and her ethereal style continues to influence New Age music. Hildegarde of Bingen stands out as an extraordinary figure in women’s history, not only as a talented musician but also as an unapologetically prodigious woman who found remarkable success by expressing her unique voice.
Head from a Female Sphinx. Found in Italy, said to have been in the ruins of Emperor Hadrian’s villa at Tivoli, outside Rome; originally from Egypt, probably Heliopolis. Middle Kingdom, Dynasty 12, reign of Amunemhat II, circa 1876-1842 B.C. Chlorite
Moving through the museum from newness (Hernan Bas) to historical (Feminism), I now found myself communing with the ancients. The Brooklyn Museum has one of the best collections of Egyptian artifacts In the entire world. Although I worked at the Museum in my youth and grew up crawling through it’s halls of mock ruins and tombs. I have never felt an attachment to these cold carved objects.
Today I feel different, and cannot take my eyes off of this “Head from a Female Sphinx.” Perhaps it is because I have recently become obsessed with collecting amateur sculpture and live amongst globs of clay fashioned into half finished heads, perhaps it is because I have been surrounded by all of these women, on the bus, upstairs on the walls, at the dinner table. But this woman, strong and silent, cracked and decomposed seems more relevant than anything else. More loaded than the frolicking boys and mermaids of Bas, more wise than the Cindy Sherman portraits and more stylized than the Chicago plates, louder than those ladies on the bus. Looking back on what spoke to me on this trip from the Armory to my studio visits, it seems the Sphinx followed me…
Photographs : Kristan Kennedy
Next up, Part 2 , Kennedy hits the Lower East Side, and takes a nap at the New Museum…
Entry by Kristan Kennedy, PICA / Edited by Brian Costello, PICA
