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Cultural Change

The Museum as Stage

by Chris Lorway

“Museums are a constant work in progress and are constantly changing and transforming. That is the definition of contemporary arts today…Contemporary art is performance, projection — we need to provide spaces for events, live arts, time-based arts, as well as small events such as lectures, symposiums and films.”

Chris Dercon, Director, Tate Modern

In today’s museum world, we are seeing increasing examples of institutions incorporating live performance into the visitor experience. From performance art in contemporary art museums to re-enactments on a small or large scale at historic sites, the lively arts are now becoming integrated into an overall institutional program strategy. While some institutions are building or enhancing designated spaces for music, dance and theatre others are using performance to animate foyers, exhibitions and gallery spaces.

The two examples below illustrate how dance companies in England and Germany were given raw architecture space in two of the world’s leading museums to make new work.

In March 2009, acclaimed German choreographer Sasha Waltz was invited to create a “choreographic exhibition” in David Chipperfield’s renovated Neue Museum in advance of it opening. The empty galleries, staircases and hallways gave the dancers and musicians who participated a chance to make their mark on the space though allegorical vignettes on human nature. In addition, the company created an interactive website that documented the work.

The video excerpt below illustrates the confluence of movement and space.

This was the second time the company was had been invited to choreograph a new opening for a museum in Berlin. In 2000 – one year before its official opening – they were invited to make a new piece in Daniel Libeskind’s new Jewish Museum.

In the summer of 2010, the Michael Clark Company was in residency at the Tate Modern in London. The company set up a rehearsal area in the immense Turbine Hall where they experimented and practiced with core company members and a group of 75 non-dancers. Visitors to the Tate were able to observe the creation process from the balconies and terraces overlooking the hall. At the end of the residency, there were a number of public showings of ideas developed to date and the following year (June 2011) a new site-specific work entitled th was premiered in the space.

As the quote above from Chris Dercon suggests, this trend is likely to continue as museums explore innovative ways to get more visitors through their doors as the competition for consumer leisure time increases. We at Lord think it is also an exciting opportunity to explore ways in which a variety of artists can animate these community spaces.

The examples presented are just two of many such examples. We would love to hear from you about other successful illustrations of partnerships between museums and performing artists in their communities.

It’s all Fun and Games Until Nothing Happens…

By Ngaire Blankenberg

There is nothing more frustrating or potentially insulting – than a faulty interactive…
 
A client and I recently visited a major ‘audio-visual monument’ that had been opened in 2008 amidst much public fanfare. This particular exhibit was touted as a ‘cutting edge’ example of an exhibition constructed from moving images, photos and magical interactives and we wanted to experience for ourselves this best practice example.  

Oh the perils of technology-based exhibitions! Not only was this a disappointing experience, it was a deeply frustrating one. The entire experience is controlled by sensors and an audio guide offered in multiple languages.  A good idea… in theory. The problem, we discovered, is that if one thing goes wrong- everything goes wrong.

When we arrived, the surly front-of-house staff – who later informed us that they were from a sub-contracted security company and had virtually nothing to do with the Museum – thrust the audio guides at us along with a complicated brochure and told us abruptly that some of the exhibits hadn’t yet been translated into English.

This didn’t seem to be much of a problem (we had a few languages between us) until we got to the exhibits themselves – and found that in fact – most of them hadn’t been translated into English and therefore, since there were no text panels in any language and we only had the English audio guides (we couldn’t change the language settings) – we couldn’t access them at all.  Not only that, but the sensors to activate the audio interpretation were not working smoothly. Sometimes an English narrator would come on, and then mid-sentence, abruptly shut off, or revert back to the beginning.  It felt as if we were being taunted by these exciting looking bits of film archive, and intriguing exhibit armatures but weren’t given the key to unlock any of it.

Being in the business, we were quite forgiving, and tried to engage the only people on the floor in a conversation about what was meant to happen. They were uninformed and rude – and one told us crossly that everything we needed was in the brochure – read it and don’t bother us!

It was a good lesson. Technology can really enhance the exhibition experience, but it can also shut it down completely. Technology serves as an exciting invitation to explore more and interactive technology in particular promises the visitor they have a voice. Extending the invitation and then not delivering on any level- whether because the technology is not working, or because the staff won’t engage- is worse, in my mind, than not making the invitation at all.  It’s like inviting someone to a delicious dinner, but not allowing them to eat.

Poetry that makes you proud to be Gaelic and Nova Scotian

by Dr. Brad King

Last week I’d heard that an old friend of mine, Lewis MacKinnon, has become the first non-Scot to be named Poet Laureate of the Royal National Mod in Scotland.

Photo: Corey LeBlanc, originally posted on http://www.thecasket.ca/leisure-and-living/gaelic-poetry-book-released/

Since our days at university playing together in a small traditional music group, Lewis has made it his life’s work to preserve the Gaelic language in Nova Scotia and has pursued that vision relentlessly via his music, his poetry and his day job as CEO of the Nova Scotia Office of Gaelic Affairs.

Lewis’s story brings to mind the issue of cultural preservation, even as culture changes continuously all around us. Any attempt to preserve an all-but-dead language with no more than a few hundred native speakers remaining might appear like a last-ditch effort to save something long gone, but the fact that there’s even such a thing as an “office of Gaelic affairs” is evidence of the cultural shifts that have occurred on the East Coast and in Canada as a whole over the past thirty years. It’s cultural change that makes someone like Lewis possible – and in turn, he has made it possible – and it has to do with the rediscovery and reclamation of the traditional as a marker of identity.

When I was a teenager growing up in Cape Breton in the 1970s, traditional culture was to be avoided and shunned. It persisted and it had its flagbearers, but it made teenagers of my generation cringe. We identified with the modern, the up-to-date, the “now”, and longed to be better connected to the currents of the dominant North American urban culture.

And then, by the early 1990s, it was “cool” for a group of university students like us to form a band that played nothing but two-hundred-year-old Robbie Burns songs or fighting songs sung by the early 20th century IRA. And we were at the bottom rungs, the grassroots. In the more mainstream culture, all things Celtic were suddenly “in”, making it possible for performers like Natalie MacMaster, the Rankins or the incredibly talented Ashley MacIsaac to become international stars. So what happened? read more »

Colombia’s Cultural Initiatives – Notes from the Field

By Kyle Keefe

Earlier this year I traveled to Colombia, where I had the opportunity to visit a number of cities, museums and cultural sites. I encountered inspiring cultural initiatives and learned a great deal about the nature and character of Colombia’s cultural venues. Here are a few of my “notes from the field” for your reading pleasure.

Bogota, Columbia

Bogota, Columbia

I started my travels is Bogotá, the capital and largest city in Colombia. I was struck by the high number of visitors to museums and other cultural attractions, in particular the many families (from grandparents to babies) who visited museums in the capital together. The locals I spoke to agreed that museums are especially popular with families, who see them as a way to pass on histories and educate youth on the customs and traditions of the country and region. Needless to say, this is an invaluable role that museums around the world aspire to fulfill.

The Offering Boat Room, main piece, Museo del Oro

The Offering Boat Room, main piece, Museo del Oro

The Museo de Botero (displaying the work of Fernando Botero, as well as the art of Picasso, Renoir, Dali, Monet and others), Museo Casa de la Moneda and the Coleccion De Arte Banco De La Republica Bogotá are located on the same campus and are free to the public. Collectively, the museums have a wide spectrum of objects and artworks. I was struck by some of the very powerful political artwork exhibited in the contemporary galleries of the Museo de Botero. These priceless resources will benefit from further growth and program development in the future.

Another must-see for me was the Museo del Oro, a fantastic state-of-the-art museum with engaging exhibitions and a large collection of pre-Spanish works. The museum has an activity center geared toward young people that features technology and encourages interaction with visitors.

The city of Medellín, northwest of Bogotá, has undergone a radical transformation over the past three decades. Home to the drug Lord Pablo Escobar and the “Medellín Cartel”, Medellín was once considered one of the most dangerous cities in the world. The Cartel disbanded in the 1990s, and the city has since become a thriving industrial and cultural center.

The Jardín Botánico de Medellín was one of my favourite stops in this city, and contains species native to Columbia and South America. The new orchid garden features a distinct, architecturally intriguing structure (pictured in the photo here). The gardens also house several amenities including an upscale restaurant, outdoor café and an outdoor performance space.

Jardín Botánico de Medellín

Jardín Botánico de Medellín

Medellín has more than 40 art galleries, and is known as one of the most environmentally conscious cities in South America (in fact many Latin American cities appear to be ahead of the global curve in terms of environmental action.) Many of the city’s new buildings and structures including the sports coliseum and the metrocable line are built to be environmentally sustainable. Recycling and compost bins are also located on street corners. Medellín was one of the first cities to connect underprivileged communities located in Medellín’s hillsides to the larger metropolitan area through a series of metrocable trams. The metrocable makes transportation more democratic throughout the City and has acted as a catalyst for the development of community centers and libraries. A video describing the system can be accessed here:


I travelled to several cities and towns throughout Colombia, and to my mind Bogotá and Medellín seem to be making the biggest strides at the moment in terms of culture, quality of life and modernization. Please leave a comment if you have any further insights on these two centers or on any other communities in Colombia – we’d love to hear your opinion!

A Shiny New World

New meets Old: Me and my daughter against the backdrop of the breathtaking Cinque Terre.

by Ngaire Blankenberg

A holiday in Italy is a wonderful thing which should never be taken lightly. Days of being immersed in sunshine, Chianti wine, fabulous food, breath-taking monuments, naked men and cherubs, serene virgins — great for a holiday, but who would want to live there?

Joking aside, my recent immersion in the Old World of Italy brought home the stark contrast that exists between the Old World and the New. I realize these categories are somewhat absurd (most countries encapsulating both) but nevertheless…

For me the Old World includes countries where people can trace a direct line through about five generations of family in the same place. The New World is where most families descend from three generations at most. Italy and the rest of Europe is Old World. Canada and the US are New World (First Nations peoples being the obvious exception, among others). We’ll get into the Old-New World places in another post.

I’m first generation Canadian as are most of the people I know. Plus I’m mixed race. So, being ‘rootless’ is part of my DNA. I spent a while in my youth seeing this as a tragedy. I got over it, and now I basically just think it’s the future. In Toronto, where I live, half of the population was born outside of Canada. The majority of second generation immigrants who are married or living in common law are doing so with someone of a different race and ethnicity. My children’s fathers are both of a different heritage than me. My children’s friends have a different heritage than their friends. That’s just how we roll.

I found the Old World to be curiously exotic. I sensed the pull of generations of family. The Italians I spoke to could trace their lineage back for centuries. I could feel what being ‘rooted’ could mean- whether in witnessing the incredible built heritage or just eating a meal prepared from a family recipe. As I traipsed through hundreds of years of visible and very present history I thought of how very nice it would be to be able to claim my presence in a single place, to feel like my belonging was deep and entrenched in time. I felt a strong ‘nostalgia without memory’ (my favourite phrase from globalization theorist Arjun Appadurai) for a place where ‘everyone knows my name’ (sorry- I couldn’t help the Cheers reference).

In between all this longing followed by disparagement of North America and its relative paucity of cultural heritage, I also started to notice a particular ‘aura’ that seemed to exist around many of the North American tourists. After some harmless stalking, my theory was confirmed. I’d say 90% of mixed couples and mixed groups of friends I saw were from North America; the people who stood out because of how they dressed (whether hippy, emo, punk, enviro or whatever) seemed to be North American, dare I say- gay couples who were obviously together- were North American… In essence, the people who seemed free to celebrate their personal identity (no matter how fashionable or unfashionable) all carried markers of North America (whether accent, or the US/Canada flags on back packs, or the Roots sweatpants). I concluded: where the Old World has culture and heritage (and style, and good food)—the New World has personal freedom. It’s a toss up.

At any rate- I returned to Toronto very sad that my days among the powerful sculptures and monuments of Italy had ended but also somehow a bit more appreciative of what this shiny New World offers me and my family. It’s a freedom that we too often take for granted—that freedom to be ourselves.

The Quest for Perfection in Cape Town

The National Gallery, Cape Town

by Ngaire Blankenberg

For most South Africans I speak to, it’s ascribed to a national inferiority complex. I prefer to think of it as an enviable quest for perfection. After all, how can you not seek perfection in a place with landscape like this?

After a whirlwind one-day tour of South Africa’s national museums in Cape Town, I am left profoundly impressed.  The South Africans I am with are spitting with frustration at the inferior standards, the lack of insight, the slow pace of transformation, the overall mediocrity of their museums. I used to think the same thing when I lived and worked in South Africa. We were always striving to be as good as museums ‘overseas’ and convinced we had so far to go.

Having had the opportunity to work and visit a number of museums internationally over the last few years, I actually think South Africans often underestimate what they have accomplished.

The sheer complexity of the South African political and cultural landscape is what makes museology so exciting here. Long cut off from the international community through sanctions, and with a huge diversity of identities, stories and histories to tell, South African cultural workers- artists, administrators, programmers, museologists, performers- have developed a unique, intensely creative, highly innovative language that is often (although not always) reflected in museums and exhibitions. Without the resources to follow ‘international’ conventions, people have often just ‘made it up’, unconstrained by what they don’t know. The results are often remarkable.

Contemporary San Art © Origins Centre

In South Africa I have seen both the best and the worst- sometimes in the same museum. I’ve seen some of the best graphic and exhibition design as well as excellent unique products (often developed through community projects) for sale in museum gift shops- far more interesting than the stock and trade pens, notepads and t-shirts of more established museums. It’s no mistake that Cape Town is a finalist with Bilbao and Dublin in the race to win the title of World Design Capital for 2014.  There are very sensitive, very imaginative, inter-disciplinary approaches to curation and interpretation.

For example, at the South African Museum a permanent exhibition on indigenous knowledge systems and Rock Art (‘/Qe – the Power of Rock Art’) privileges the voice of the San people in interpreting the rock art which marks the oldest human settlements and cultures in the world. At the Origins museum at the University of Witswatersrand in Johannesburg, the same subject matter is powerfully interpreted with artifacts, exceptional works of contemporary art, interactive and compelling video. A major retrospective of Vladmir Tretchikoff (Tretchikoff: The People’s Painter) is receiving unprecedented visitors at the National Gallery.  Tretchikoff’s work has been long shunned by the arts establishment but he’s remained a favorite South African/Russian popular artist. The exhibition is accessible and interesting and signals a determination on the part of the institution to welcome new audiences in to this lovely gallery space nestled in the beautiful Company’s Botanical Gardens.

South African museums also feature some excellent public programs that seek to make meaningful connections with communities and schools (South African cultural workers are sensitive to the imperative to make culture matter to all in a country of such pressing development needs.)

Groot Constantia Heritage House

The pockets of terrible reflect the difficult and treacherous road to genuine transformation facing South Africa in every sphere. At Groot Constantia, South Africa’s oldest (and still operating) wine estate and a key tourist destination just outside of Cape Town, a historic house is meticulously preserved. Hundreds of visitors come here each day, lured by the spectacular landscape, and the opportunity to taste renowned South African wines.  They eat, they drink, they admire- but few go in to the old house to appreciate the 17th century colonial homestead that captures uncomfortably how white people made a lot of money (and continue to do so) from this land. The interpretation is deafening in its omissions: there is virtually nothing about slavery and apartheid, both which enabled such wealth to exist. The docent- a gregarious and affable Coloured man- lowers his voice conspiratorially when I ask him about the invisible black people– “There is a lot we don’t talk about here…”

You see this in many of the museums in South Africa; the ‘heritage story’ of the white colonialists, slave-owners, capitalists, apartheid-era power holders- who arguably continue to profit from South Africa (which has one of the highest income discrepancies in the world)- butting against the story of generations of black people determined to make their voices heard in the national narrative, still enraged by the persistent gaps 17 years after the official ending of apartheid.

The good, the bad, the ugly- it’s all here- as in many other museums worldwide. The constant striving to be better. I find it so much more palpable here than in more ‘established’ museum environments. That very quest for perfection, or maybe that inferiority complex, is what ultimately means that South African exhibitions and museums are something to watch out for- in all their fantastic patchiness.

The Art of the Steal

Interior View of the Barnes Estate

By Andrea Kezdi

Albert C. Barnes (January 2, 1872 – July 24, 1951), who gained wealth through his breakthrough scientific research, was an art collector and owner of the Barnes Foundation, a museum established around his collection of Impressionist, Post-Impressionist and Modernist art. The Barnes Foundation is located in Lower Merion Township, Pennsylvania.

Barnes was known as an eccentric person, who quickly acquired a discerning taste for art. In 1910 at around the age of 30, Barnes began to dedicate himself to the pursuit of art, and commissioned a friend and painter to purchase several modern French paintings, which later came to form the core of his collection. Barnes was well connected and became acquainted with the likes of Matisse and Picasso; with an excellent eye for art, Barnes quickly recognized the value of the works of these artists, who were often dismissed by contemporary critics. Due to his wealth, and the poor economic conditions during the Depression, Barnes was able to acquire several of their works at affordable prices. Soon he had amassed a staggering collection, including 181 Renoirs, 69 Cézannes, 60 Matisses, 44 Picassos, and 14 Modiglianis. Today, the 9,000 piece collection is valued at over $25 billion.

Perhaps due to his personal experiences with educational institutions, Barnes was known to be critical of the educational systems, museums, and the ‘art establishment’ in place at the time. Barnes did not follow traditional curatorial notions, but instead hung his artwork according to his ideas of the relationships between paintings, which he paired with finely crafted furniture, metalwork and other objects in his collection. Barnes limited access to the institution and insisted that it be used solely for educational purposes. The students of Lincoln University were regular visitors, and others were required to make appointments by letter.  Barnes insisted that his collection remain private and even went to great lengths to produce what he considered to be an ‘iron-clad’ will to ensure that the institution remain this way after his death. It was stipulated that the institution be open to the public only a few times a week, and more importantly that the collection never be loaned or sold. The paintings were to remain in the exact original locations.

The estate remained this way, according to Barnes’ wishes until the death of the first Trustee in 1988. This is when the controversial legal battle over the control of the Barnes foundation began. It now appears that the collection will be moved into a new museum in Philadelphia, a decision the Philadelphia museum, the mayor of Philadelphia, and a series of charitable organizations have been fighting for.

Does the collection belong in Pennsylvania, on the walls of the Barnes Estate, dedicated to the study of art, or does it belong in a museum accessible to the greater public?  Tell us your thoughts.