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Cultural Change

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.

Pieces of Soul on Show

Raja and Shadia Alem in front of their work "Black Arch" at the Saudi Arabian Pavilion, Venice Biennale 2011

by Ngaire Blankenberg

After a couple of tiny European mugs of beer, the Venetian cameraman who accompanied me through two frenzied days at the Venice Biennale could barely disguise his contempt. “Tourism is wrong,” he announced unequivocally, ”You come, you don’t learn anything about my city, you fly in with your planes, you use up too much energy, you damage Venice and then you leave”. He says all this with a smile and remarkable charm, showing his perfect white teeth, and then, as he orders me some dishes of a local fish specialty and a glass of wine from the east of Italy which we eat standing up in the street outside the restaurant- he tries to soften the blow. “You’re different though, you’re here for work…”

I had hired him to help document the inaugural Saudi Arabian pavilion for our client in Dhahran, and to capture the sights and sounds of the Biennale, so his comments were also an admission of how he himself had benefited from the evils of tourism. Still, to our discredit- I pointed out that the business travelers were probably, by his criteria, the most offensive- we stay for a shorter period of time, we usually go for a specific reason and don’t event attempt to learn about the city (in as much as leisure tourists at least try to), and we force the city to comply to us and our work demands.

This must have been the case for hundreds and hundreds of people clogging up Venice during the VIP and press pre-opening week before the most significant art world fair in the world opens to the public on June 4th. I hadn’t actually thought of it before- but the billion dollar yachts docked outside the Giardini, the hundreds of brochures and catalogues collected and discarded along the way, the full hotels, the gallons of waters for showers, the glittering parties- were not actually that good for a city literally sinking into the water. Of course- economically- it’s not bad either.

Environmental destruction aside, I found the Biennale exhilarating, stimulating, fascinating. The weather was perfect- hot, sunny, and bright. Venice- incomparable in its romantic beauty- the perfect backdrop for an exhausting amount of art demanding that the viewer think endless deep thoughts.

The outfits bear mentioning. The Europeans trump North Americans at the best of times, but art money mixed with art style is a powerful combination. Flashes of colour quirkily put together (red jeans, turquoise sneakers), pegged pants, flowing tops, lovely dresses, bright lipstick, definite glasses were the uniform du jour. Both men and women do tailored-glamour-casual in an incredible way. And the accompanying attitude of not-caring + caring-more-than-anything is intoxicating.

Here, everyone is someone. The dealers, collectors, museum directors, PR people, media, trustees. Names I only read about parading around in the flesh. What I loved most of all were the glimpses of the artists. I knew they were the artists only when other media made them stand in front of their work and took their picture. After or before this, they would earnestly and seriously talk about their work. And someone would be nodding. They were incredibly vulnerable these artists- far more vulnerable than their bold, nationally representative works would suggest. Here were their pieces of soul on show- exposed as hundreds glanced over them and pronounced them good or not.

Art I liked. Japan pavilion ; Serbian pavilion although apparently he is setting out to reclaim the swastika which I think is ridiculous; Korea- floral military is great; I liked Argentina- big concrete bottom of the ocean pieces titled “The Murderer of Your Heritage” (!). I liked Saudi Arabia- and I’m not just saying that. Their inaugural pavilion (a work called “The Black Arch”) was powerful. Beautiful. I loved the two sisters who created it- Raja and Shadia Alem.  I liked South Africa.  I liked Future of a Promise. My cameraman almost passed out after we interviewed the beautiful curator, whispering after losing her voice, telling us passionately about a new generation of Arab artists.

The Venice Biennale runs to the 27 November 2011. View more Venice Biennale photographs at the Cultural Change Facebook page:http://fb.me/zJVKSNFJ

The Townhouse Gallery: The Beating Heart of Cairo’s Contemporary Art Scene

The Townhouse Gallery, Cairo

by Joe Banh

The glories of ancient Egypt are amazing to behold, but contemporary Cairo is just as compelling. Amidst the din of traffic and the chaos of the jostling crowds in downtown Cairo is the Townhouse Gallery. Part art gallery, part performance space, part library and community space, the Townhouse is truly the beating heart of Cairo’s contemporary art scene. Well connected to the movements and ideas circulating in the global contemporary art world, the exhibitions that are mounted by the Townhouse are often extremely relevant to the context of Egypt, Africa and the Middle East. But perhaps what is most commendable is its role as an incubator for nurturing local artists and the art community at large. Offering many free public workshops and lectures by visiting artists the Townhouse Gallery is a model of how art institutions and contemporary art can be mobilized to serve the public. Downtown Cairo is never a dull place, and the Townhouse Gallery ensures that beneath the dust, exhaust and blaring car horns, is a place where people can gather to learn, share and create something meaningful together. If you’re in Cairo it’s worth a visit.

The Townhouse Gallery is located at:

10 Nabrawy St., off Champollion St., Downtown

Cairo, Arab Republic of Egypt

For more information please visit:

Website: http://www.thetownhousegallery.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2591145373

When Slavery Came to Stay

The Cliveden National Historic Landmark. Photo by Michael Feagans.

by Joy Bailey

On April 19, AAM announced its Brooking Paper Award on Creativity. It was awarded to Phillip Seitz, former curator at Cliveden of the National Trust in Pennsylvania, a historic house owned by the Chew family—a major founding family of Pennsylvania— located in the Germantown area of Philadelphia. This excellent paper, When Slavery Came to Stay, is a must read.  It begins by telling of the curator’s discovery of the episodes of resistance and courage staged by enslaved workers on plantations owned by the Chews in Maryland and Pennsylvania. The paper goes on to describe the institution’s concerted efforts to interact, through a public engagement process, with its—previously ignored, largely African American—surrounding community, to understand the best ways to share the findings from Seitz’ eight years of research. Stories of the lives of enslaved workers on the plantation just down the road from them.

Many of the results of the engagement are not new to us; be more inclusive and welcoming, use visual and other cues, offer food. But the effort, the process, and the level of humility that the staff at Cliveden had to adopt to engage with multiple layers of the African American community to discover the most effective means of expression to get its narratives out there, is rare.

The author does occasionally lapse into a paternalistic tone—is it really germane for us to know about the friendship this ”white American with a master’s degree” develops with a formerly incarcerated “African American with a sixth-grade education,” or the entreaty to “lay on some food” to attract African American audience. Those minor annoyances aside, the paper speaks to some universal needs that audiences have, namely:

  • People need affirmation of the past— real evidence proving oral histories, lore, provides validation;
  • People identify with stories of agency and survival—everybody likes to be a winner sometime, this is very important to remember in our efforts to help people accurately remember painful stories of the past;
  • Make the connection between the horrors of the past and injustice that plagues today.

According to this paper, Cliveden is now a new place that engages with its community rather than attempting to avoid it. It is definitely on my list of places to visit. Now if only they can get some non-white board members, they’ll really be going places.

Read Phillip Seitz’s paper, When Slavery Came to Stay, here: http://www.aam-us.org/getinvolved/nominate/upload/brooking-winner.pdf

Bye Bye Kitty!!! Overcoming Kawaii in Japanese Art

Makoto Aida (1965– ) Harakiri School Girls (detail), 2002. Courtesy Mizuma Art Gallery. Copyright © AIDA Makoto.

by Barry Lord

The Japan Society in New York is currently hosting a new exhibition entitled Bye Bye Kitty!!! Between Heaven and Hell in Contemporary Japanese Art. The exhibition features the works of Makoto Aida, Yamaguchi Akira, Manabu Ikeda and two female artists, Miwa Yanagi and Tomoko Kashiki.  The title of the exhibition refers to a phenomenon which Gail and I noted very strongly during our trip to Japan—kawaii, or “cuteness”—that has become prominent in Japanese pop culture. Bye Bye Kitty!!! is a reference to Hello Kitty, a classic kawaii character created by the Sanrio Company in 1974.

The works featured in Bye Bye Kitty!!! present a challenge to kawaii stereotypes, described by Peter Schjeldahl in the March 28, 2011 issue of The New Yorker as “the treacly export charm of big-eyed representations of kids and animals”.  The exclamation points in the title “track an insecure teen’s clamor for attention” as he says, “emphasis, overkill, hysteria.” Schjeldahl —and perhaps the exhibition catalogue—contrasts Bye Bye Kitty!!! to a 2005 show called Little Boy, which wallowed in kawaii and was curated by Takashi Murakami (who Schjeldahl describes as an exemplar of kawaii, and “the master of plastic-fantastic puerility.”) The title of that show refers to the code name of the bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. Murakami’s incisive point was that the infantilism of kawaii—and the “unlovely kinks” that go with it—arise from the psychosis of suffering from the atomic bomb, the defeat of Japanese imperialism and the consequent de-militarization of the country. This rings true to me as the cultural roots of kawaii, and explains why such a kitsch phenomenon is so strong in an otherwise extremely sophisticated and un-kitsch society.

Both the exhibition catalogue and the review were obviously written before the earthquake and tsunami with their current nuclear aftermath. Clearly the present experience at Fukashima and its possible effect on Tokyo—currently radiation in the water—will dramatically intensify the “victim” neurosis underlying the fondness for kawaii, making the artists that are surmounting it in this show all the more interesting and important.

There is a wider cultural significance; victimhood is one of the problematic characteristics of global culture as many commentators have observed. I’ve just recently read Alain Badiou’s brilliant little book, The Century (La Siecle), in which he contrasts the victimhood that engulfs us today with the much more proactive role of “the new man” who was the ideal of the 20th century. The Japanese experience of victimhood is unique because it arises from that symbol of 20th century science and technology—the atomic bomb. Now that they are experiencing the downside of their commitment to nuclear energy, they are going to have an even more intense struggle with kawaii—and so the attempt of some artists to overcome kawaii is doubly interesting, not just for Japan but more generally for the agenda of the arts in the 21st century.

The importance of the source of surplus energy in Japan—nuclear energy—and its centrality to culture is closely connected to the theme of cultural change. The source of surplus energy has a unique importance in every society. Everyone at all socio-economic levels in every society and throughout history is and always has been conscious of the sources of surplus energy. Changes in the source of surplus energy are major changes in society that artists respond to in their work, and that patrons and the public welcome or resist, depending on its impacts on them. The history of changes in surplus energy—from the first big source which is simply our ability to work together through more intensive organizations of labour such as slavery and feudalism; and from wood in the days when land ownership was the principle source of wealth (important as a source of energy as well as a food source) through the coal age after so many forests have been cleared, and on to oil as portrayed in the latest collection by Edward Burtynsky. There has been a transition from coal to oil as the dominant new energy source, transferring the source of value from production (its locus in the coal age) to consumption in the oil age. The preoccupation with brands, the credit economy that makes consumerism possible and other phenomena are related to the oil age.

In our latest book, Artists, Patrons, and the Public: Why Culture Changes (AltaMira Press, 2010), Gail and I speculate on current shifts in energy sources, including the significance of the reliance on nuclear energy in France, suggesting an even more intense preoccupation with luxury brands such as Vuitton, Francois Pinault and others as patrons. However, we might have noted the specific situation of Japan: the lack of oil is what drove imperial Japan to fight for it when the U.S. and the U.K. cut the Japanese off from the oil sources around Indonesia. That in turn led to the psychosis of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the cultural explosion of the values associated with emperor worship. Postwar Japan not only accepted demilitarization and the passive role that went along with it, but also recognized the need to convert from oil to nuclear energy as a primary source of surplus energy, even though the dangers of doing so in an earthquake-prone country are well known to them. In our book we do cite Murakami as an exemplar of the even more intense presentation of the artist as a brand that we suggest is also apparent in France with its stand on nuclear energy. But as this exhibition shows, kawaii is a manifestation of the victimhood arising from the psychosis of Hiroshima prolonged by a neurotic reliance on nuclear energy in an earthquake zone and now the intense experience of the results of that reliance. So an exhibition of artists who propose to go beyond kawaii is extremely interesting as an example of artists discovering something new, which is just now presenting its meanings to patrons through this exhibition. And because victimhood is a much more widespread phenomenon, the artists and the exhibition matter to all of us.

Bye Bye Kitty!!! Between Heaven and Hell in Contemporary Japanese Art is on display at the Japan Society Gallery between March 18 and June 12, 2011. http://www.japansociety.org/gallery

Conference of the Future?

MoMA's free iPhone App offers a range of mobile experiences for museum visitors. Image from www.dexigner.com

by Lisa Dillon

The second Museums & Mobile Online Conference took place on March 22 and 23, 2011. It featured interactive online panel discussions by museum professionals from institutions including SFMoMA, the Getty, National Museums of Scotland, and the National Museum of the American Indian—all of whom have addressed introducing new mobile experiences for their visitors. These experiences include mobile museum tours (apps or web-based), mobile gaming, and using mobile devices to ask visitors to contribute feedback, content, or even donations. The event also included a “Virtual Expo” of vendors offering mobile interpretation related products and services to museums.

Museums have offered mobile content for decades—the first audioguide tours appeared in the 1960s—but recent advances in technology have changed the game when it comes to mobile. The biggest change is that today almost all museum visitors have their own mobile devices (cell phones, iPods, and tablets) and content can be delivered directly to them via these devices. Visitors can personalize the mobile content according to their interests and their available time, and in many cases, they don’t even need to be in the museum to do it. The popularity of social media (Facebook, Twitter), user content-generated websites (Wikipedia, YouTube, Flickr) and review sites (TripAdvisor) shows that people want to share their own ideas and experiences with the world. Are museums ready to relinquish control over content to their visitors? Can visitors go from being users to participants—accessing and creating content whenever, wherever, and however they choose? Have we entered a new age of museum-visitor interaction?

The Museums & Mobile conference itself is an example of the opportunities afforded by technological advances. Entirely online, the conference connected people from North America, Europe and the rest of the world using their computers or mobile devices. Participants could interact with presenters and each other, using chat windows, live polls and questions, instant messaging, audio, and web cams. It was an affordable, greener and more sustainable conference in that people did not have to fly or drive to attend, and it was paperless. In an age when people are increasingly concerned with getting value for their time and money and decreasing their carbon footprint, are online conferences the future?

Museums & Mobile Online Conference II was produced by  Pocket-Proof- a design agency specializing in mobile museum experiences- and LearningTimes- an online learning program producer. Museums & Mobile III is scheduled for September, 2011. http://www.museums-mobile.org/