Seeing and Being Seen in DC

Yes, this was my first visit to DC. Because of the occasion, there was no sure way to accurately plan my two days there. While there, I decided with a friend to visit one museum and let the events and the crowd determine the rest of the sights I would see.

As expected the National Gallery of Art opened shows particularly fitting for this inauguration. Robert Frank’s “The Americans” is always a great catch no matter the museum. I never tire of seeing this photo portrait of America so appreciated the NGA’s effort to make this show available during this weekend. Pompeii and the Roman Villa was also especially timely. After all, the discovery of Pompeii and Herculaneum in the 1700s not only sparked the Enlightenment, but also influenced Thomas Jefferson in establishing the Federalist architectural style that helped determine the design of many of the buildings and monuments in DC.

No doubt, walking through the Capitol last weekend was nothing Jefferson or perhaps even Frank could have ever imagined. The number of barricades, port-a-potties, and vendors selling Obama gear, and the millions of people visiting DC easily upstaged the architecture. Like many I was awestruck and consumed (many times literally!) by the masses. But most surprising was running into people I knew were there, but never believed I would see them. A good friend of mine and her family also visited from Cincinnati and were walking the mall at the precise time I was out there. Only a few moments later, the friend with whom I visited the museum also spotted someone she knew. I didn’t know which was more exciting, to witness the inauguration of Barack Obama or these chance meetings of friends. Was it the grandness of this historical event that captures the strength and pride of our country like the columns supporting the structures on The Mall, or these chance encounters with those we know as well as strangers like us that provide a more intimate profile of America? Idealism and Realism is a continuing dichotomy in the portrait of America. The NGA presents this well through the eyes of Jefferson and Frank

Carl Solway Gallery: Cincinnati’s Place for Modern Art

Very seldom do I go to gallery openings to look at art. They are generally too crowded making it nearly impossible for me to see anything. Against my norm, I went to the Carl Solway Gallery opening last night. As expected, there was a nice large crowd, but because the gallery is wonderfully spacious, viewing the art was not a challenge. Furthermore, the exhibitions of well-known artists Solway regularly presents add to the ease of viewing the works.

Currently, the gallery is showing lithographs by Joan Miró paintings by Joan Snyder and Fred Tomaselli, and works by Hans Hofman. Because Solway shows big names, even if not always signature works, a visit during an opening is comfortable stroll through the gallery for me. Arriving to the show with a familiarity of these artists presents me with an opportunity to simply enjoy the works without fighting the crowd or the gallery space at every step trying to see everything. Yet more often than not, the Solway presents to me wonderful surprises; opportunities to see works I’ve not seen, and to rethink artists I think I know. For example, Miró's whimsical lithographs are a pleasant welcome to the gallery. Also, this is the first time I’ve considered comparing Snyder’s use of actual herbs in her paintings and Tomaselli’s medicinal images of pills in a grid.

By providing a space and the works of well known modern artists, Cincinnati’s Solway Gallery seems to achieve what the Cincinnati Art Museum has not yet mastered. Solway is a place to re-engage modern art. As the museum works to promote contemporary art, museum curators need to recognize the works hidden on that floor simply burden the gallery, the museum-goer, the collection. If the 3rd floor is a Contemporary Art gallery, then many of those works up there may need to be reconsidered. Until that happens the Cincinnati Art Museum may need to deferred to the Carl Solway Gallery for modern art.

Obama Chooses Ohio University Photojournalist

Pete Souza, Assistant Professor of Visual Communication at Ohio University has been named the Obama administration’s White House photographer. Souza has been covering Obama since 2005 and says his main goal is “to visually document the president and his life in the White House for the sake of history.”

Souza’s website has a number of slide shows. Some include photos taken during the election and may be familiar to you. Others, including those of the new first family during Obama’s rise, are not so well-known. Souza’s photographs present a photojournalistic style that is both intimate yet monumental.

Congratulations Pete Souza and Ohio University.

An Aesthetic Fun House

After spending admittedly a short time viewing Ryan McGinness Aesthetic Comfort, I feel I spent part of my afternoon at an amusement park instead of an art museum. This may have something to do with having to navigate through the holiday crowds at the Cincinnati Art Museum or the fact that I brought my four year old son to see these paintings. But I’ve visited many crowded museums and have taken both of my children to art galleries from the time they were six months old so I think the vibrant if not psychotic energy in the gallery rests with McGinness’ paintings.

More than a fun house, the gallery filled with fluorescent designs spilling from various canvasses onto the walls and glowing under a black light recalls the psychedelic aesthetic of the 60s and 70s. Though most writers instead link McGinness to Warhol because of his use of commercial symbols and other motifs from everyday life. I suppose I recognized this, or would have if I was an Urban Outfitters consumer. (Is it me or am I showing my age with every sentence?)

But I did immediately notice the overlapping of imagery associated with the influence of the information age. This layering and linking of images that seemed random yet articulately patterned on various shaped canvasses reminded me of the Karla Hackenmiller’s Liminal Series I reviewed here a little over a week ago. McGuinness reveals in recognizable symbols the non-linear thought processes Hackenmiller explores in her Liminal Series.

I’m not sure how comfortable I am with what appears to be a shift in aesthetics, but I am enjoying watching artists explore it.

University of Kentucky: A new “local” art stop?

This morning I was surprised to see two stories about art exhibited at the University of Kentucky, since I’m not an alumna nor do I tend to set my sites much further south than NKU when reviewing happenings in the local art scene.

On January 11, 2009, The Art Museum of the University of Kentucky will open an exhibition of prints by Robert Motherwell and Jasper Johns. The second story is about the installation of a new sculpture, Coal Pot by El Anatsui, on the campus.

With the New Year approaching, I am making a list of things I would like to accomplish this year, including keeping my blog current. I may have to add the University of Kentucky on my list of places to watch in the coming year.

“Liminal” Art

In recent exhibitions, I’ve noticed many examples of works depicting oddly juxtaposed images and even eerie scenes hanging in the local galleries. Since I am not a huge fan of Dali, I tend to walk pass these dreamlike works. Perhaps they are simply too eerie so make me uncomfortable with which to spend time. One of the current shows at Manifest Gallery, Contemporary Printmaking, forced me to realize I cannot easily ignore what seems to be a Surrealist trend emerging in the local arts scene.

These artists do not refer to themselves as Surrealists, but the incredibly detailed etchings of Andrew Au and Craig Fisher’s Rights of Spring as well as many others in the show reveal odd combinations with sometimes nightmarish results. Even Angela Katona-Batchelor's Curiosity, the show's only sculptural piece, brings together etched butterfly wings, a milkweed pod, and and a vial. Perhaps these artists are making obvious connections in imagery or simply plays on words. I certainly hope the work of the artists in the Manifest Gallery show is not as simple as this. This is not to say the art making is simple. Printmaking is not. Furthermore, the process does not seem to allow for the automatic and free association characteristic of Surrealism that painting seems to better serve. So what is this eerie trend?

Karla Hackenmiller’s Liminal Deploy included in the show is most interesting to me. One of the smallest of the pieces in the show and certainly the most abstract, her etching depicts a network of tiny lines and shapes of incredible detail that seems to expand and bubble from a single point. With the artist’s Liminal Series, Hackenmiller explores the human thought process and the relationship between brain activity and abstract results. As Liminal Deploy illustrates, her interest is in non-linear thought processes. While this is a pure line etching, it reveals an organic set of forms. Hackenmiller remarks in her artist statement about our cultural interest in the World Wide Web, especially open-source applications that encourage if not rely on an investigation of cognitive creative brain functions.

The more I consider Hackenmiller’s Liminal Series, the more I think she has answered the questions I have had about the works in this and many other shows I’ve seen recently visited. Surrealism was a cultural movement of the 1920’s. In this new century of art Hackenmiller’s “Liminal” may be more fitting.

One Artist, An Array of Media

I’ve always enjoyed the work of Lynda Benglis though never had much of an opportunity with which to spend time as a student or teacher of art history. Lynda Benglis As Printmaker, which closes this weekend at the Carl Solway Gallery gave me that rare chance to see her work as more than just one example of Post-Minimalist work.

Her Bounce and Contraband from the late 1960s were always my favorites of the organic pieces common to Post-Minimalism that both rely on and impose themselves on the gallery space. These two pieces are not part of this retrospective, but walking into the Carl Solway Gallery this morning was met with a brilliance of color that similarly oozes from the white walls.

While at least one local reviewer tried to classify Benglis’ style, we quickly find that this show proves the task difficult. As with most Post Minimalist works, the media perhaps even more than the artist is the subject of a retrospective. Benglis’ ability to fully exploit the range of the media allows her to refuse being classified.

I've said it before, single artist shows prove more challenging for the viewer. And Benglis shows an artist retrospective can be more dynamic as well. I look forward to seeing such exhibitions at the Carl Solway Gallery in the future.

Simply Sol

For the past couple of days I’ve been hearing about the excited reception of Sol LeWitt’s near permanent installation at Mass MoCA, Sol LeWitt: A Wall Drawing Retrospective. While I’ve always been pretty fascinated with conceptual art and particularly interested in LeWitt’s wall drawings (or to be more precise, his instructions for the wall drawings), I’ve never heard anyone share this interest. In fact, most people interested in understanding LeWitt’s work and who have asked me to explain it respond by shaking their heads. Okay, perhaps this says more about my explanation than it does about LeWitt. But the truth remains so many people are willing to celebrate artists like Rubens who employed a number of artists to complete his commissions, yet LeWitt’s practice of the same is often met with disdain.

So why is everyone so excited about Sol LeWitt now? Can it only be that he died so recently? Perhaps his recent death has spurned a host of LeWitt shows (there were two in Cincinnati earlier this year), but expressions of beauty linked to LeWitt’s work leaves me dumbfounded. Since when has his wall drawings been viewed as beautiful?

The review of the current retrospective by Holland Cotter in the NY Times seems to offer a hint as to why LeWitt’s work is now appealing to the masses. In this review Cotter says about LeWitt’s wall drawings on display at Mass MoCA,

“They aren’t populist in that way; they were meant for the great indoors. But neither do they depend on elite settings — museums or galleries — to make sense. They are abstract, not arcane. Their visual effects can be complex, but their language is plain: lines, colors, clean surfaces, the basics of grade-school art class. No wonder they feel welcoming; they take us back to the past before they take us somewhere else.”

So we enjoy LeWitt’s work because we don’t have to think about it? It is beautiful because it is “grade school” easy? Beauty and Conceptual Art are not mutually exclusive are they? Perhaps I need to work on my explanations so I can convince more that beauty does rest in the concept so fewer will shake their heads in disdain.

Re-viewing History

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted here. I suppose I could blame the holidays or my work on the Obama campaign, both of which have kept me from spending time in a gallery or thinking about the local art scene in any serious way. So to renew some inspiration to continue blogging, I visited my old stomping grounds at the Cleveland Museum of Art and found it wonderfully new.

I feel so fortunate to have been introduced to art by this museum, ranked in the top 5 of the world. While teaching in the Cleveland area, I gained a special appreciation for assigning my students to tour the galleries at least once or twice during their semester with me. This is truly one of the best resources with which to teach and learn about art.

While visiting most museums, I struggle to spend more than an hour per visit. Taking in so much information during a museum visit usually taxes my brain. But my recent visit to the Cleveland Museum of Art, my first since it reopened last spring, filled me with such a sense of awe that for the first time ever I didn’t want to leave.

This return to Cleveland for the holiday and to revisit my own history of art was so fitting a homecoming. The museum’s first phase re-opens the original 1916 building so entering the museum brought for me a recognizable comfort. For any art museum, a comfortable entrance is a major accomplishment. For the CMA to manage this while in the throes of construction is truly a feat recognized immediately. In fact I was so at ease that I headed up the familiar stairs near the entrance almost faster than someone could stop and redirect me to the appropriate path towards the galleries.

As most know, the CMA collection is one of the best in the world. It was difficult for me to imagine how viewing it could be made any better. Well, the galleries of the 1916 Building truly celebrate this collection in ways I’ve never seen in any museum or gallery before. (see the panoramic shots, here) As most everyone has recognized, the architect Rafael Viñoly has done an exceptional job of preserving the museum as an historical landmark in Cleveland. As we eagerly await the new jewel that is the expansion to the 1916 Building, we are comforted to know that CMA is in wonderful hands and the beauty that is the collection will be what shines ever brighter in Cleveland.

To reopen the Cleveland Museum of Art with this phase, one that celebrates the original museum (rather than the architect as is all too common to do) is a true gift to the city as well as to the collection. As we in Cincinnati look to a remodeling of the Cincinnati Art Museum, we can look to our north to such an undertaking that can be a tremendous success as long as the collection, the local community, and the museum’s history remain the focus.

A Web of Possibilities

Spiders, ghosts, ravens, webs, and skulls are all part of the language of either Halloween or Day of The Dead, making Carlos Amorales: Discarded Spider a seasonally timed show at the CAC. Though fortunately, this current exhibition will remain on view into March. Because most interesting, what look like large spider webs and references to ghosts have little to do with the supernatural at all.

In this exhibition, Amorales pulls together many of artistic media and genres. Furthermore, his vector drawings rely as much on the sciences and mathematics as it does on the world of art. These digital silhouettes or "ghosts" have their foundations in rotoscopy, an early animation technique. With this, Amorales investigates the fundamentals of drawing and their role in other media like video, computer graphics, performance, sculpture, and through his Psicofonias, musical compositions. It is this last musical component that impressed me most. I am always excited to follow artists on their explorations of various media, but Amorales' translation of vector points into the music rolls of a digital player piano exhibits an artistic depth seen only in single artist shows. Instead of a Halloween decoration, the spider web then is a metaphor for interconnectedness of disciplines and media as well as for the organic gallery space that defines and is defined by the art.

CAC Director, Raphaela Platow does a wonderful curatorial job of utilizing the web metaphor through programming. Intertwining this exhibition with the “Bite Me” Ball on Halloween and the Cincinnati Ballet performance of Dracula and a film series is certain to lure museum patrons into the gallery for this one-person show. Rather than frightening, the "ghosts" are enlightening.

Zaha Hadid Strikes Again

Since the opening of Cincinnati’s new Contemporary Art Center, I’ve heard only criticism of Hadid’s design. It seems as though everyone struggles not with the exhibitions at the CAC as much as with the building. Hadid’s structure upstages and so interferes with the exhibitions so people complain. Perhaps because I do not visit the CAC too often, I simply accept these critiques without question. Admittedly, I’m no architect, nor am I well versed in architectural style. Yet, I cannot help but to note a certain anti-art architecture criticism that I see reappearing with her latest structure, the Chanel Pavilion in New York’s Central Park.

Here, Hadid has designed a temporary exhibition space to house works influence by Chanel. I am in complete agreement with Nicolai Ourourssoff’s review in the NY Times. The economic timeliness of this exhibit could not be much worse. Yet what is more troubling is the fact that it took Christo and Jean-Claude over 25 years to gain permission to erect The Gates in Central Park. The resistance was based mostly on the risk of commercializing and physically harming this green space. Christo and Jean Claude are two artists who have devoted their work to the environment and can safely claim each of their pieces, including The Gates, is a celebration of the space in which they temporarily reside. I can't help but wonder if Chanel was audacious enough to mention The Gates in their proposal to erect Hadid's capsule in the park.

That a mere donation to the Central Park Conservatory permits Hadid and Chanel to sleep well at night is further testament to a displaced idealism. Another example of anti-art architecture.

Manifest Gallery Doubles Down

As an art historian, I am guilty of quickly categorizing each work of art I see into a neat historical framework. Though with each gallery visit, I hope the works exhibited force (not merely invite) me to venture beyond these boundaries. My visit to Manifest Gallery this week did just that. The art of both Petra Kralickova and Kathy A. Moore caught me off guard as they both challenged the classical dichotomies of geometric versus organic, private versus public spaces, and stability versus theatricality.

Immediately upon walking into the red-tinted gallery I was drawn to Inquietude. Kralickova’s three “cages” of black fabric, thread, and beautiful bead work gracefully hang from the ceiling. The black strands of thread of each of these cages meet a perfect circle of black sand on the floor below. While the work is tactile, Kralickova seems to display a resistance to the spontaneous for which Post-Minimalism is known. Instead her work seems more intentional; retaining geometric form and classic analytical lines. The combination of red fabric that drapes the windows of the gallery and the black “cages” along with the need for the viewer to carefully move around these pieces so as not to disturb the sand offers a sense of unease. Though the temptation of their elegance; the sparkle of the sand mirroring the glimmer of the bead work above was almost irresistible to touch. Only my desire to keep from harming these perfect forms allowed me to keep my hands to myself. It is this conflict of being confined outside of Kralickova’s cages that is most intriguing.

Kathy A. Moore’s Still Lifes From My Perspective also focuses on presenting spacial ambiguities in her drawings of her studio. Unlike Kralickova, Moore works with the more classical media of drawing and visual language of line, light, and perspective. Even the still life is a more traditional genre choice. Yet while her linear approach to space seems to contradict the organic forms in Inquietude, looking at Moore’s drawings offers no less stability. In each still life, the artist changes not always the objects, but forces a new and different angle or perspective that imposes movement that is almost dizzying. Her emphasis on light (though perhaps more obvious in her paintings) equals that of Kralickova. This focus on light allows both artists to define spaces; the studio or the gallery as equally dramatic.

A very quick look at the works of these two artists immediately reveals opposing artistic styles: classical drawings of still lifes against a Post-Minimalist installation. Yet by devoting the galleries to two artists and only two works Manifest allows the viewer to recognize and perhaps even wrestle with their similarities.

The Marriage of Form and Content

It has been weeks since my visit to NYC and my last post. Like many in Cincinnati, I’ve been recovering from the storm, but mostly, I’ve been reviewing many of the works I saw on my trip. Unlike most visits, this time I devoted a couple of days to the Chelsea galleries.

Up until last year, I’ve spent most of my time working as an historian so would more likely venture into museums, so my visit to Chelsea caught me off guard. The number of galleries truly surprised me and I was not sure where to start. Because I was not in the city on a Thursday, I was unable to take advantage of the gallery openings that are normally scheduled that evening. But the handful I did visit proved there are incredibly interesting discussions in the art world from social, political, to formal that challenge.

At Stefan Stux Gallery I was confronted by Aaron Johnson’s large paintings that make up the show Star-Crossed. Many were humorous and yet others were frightening as the artist combines a comedic style to very serious subjects that implicate the current American culture. His subjects include the linking of church and state, patriotism, and the current wars. But it is not these themes that are as interesting as Johnson’s reverse painted acrylic polymer peel method. He paints completely in reverse onto plastic film building multiple layers of acrylic polymer. Then he applies these directly onto American flags peeling away the plastic. These frightening images on the American flag indict our patriotism. Johnson's painting method captures best his political message.

I’m not sure Cincinnati’s average gallery hopper would be comfortable walking into a gallery filled with Johnson’s work, but I am certain Cincinnati’s artists would lap it up. Not just content, but the focus on form, style, and medium as integral to the work is what filled the galleries I visited in NYC. I think this recognition of the marriage of form and content is what is missing in many local exhibitions. Cincinnati's arts calendar is filled with thematic shows and exhibitions centered around medium, but I seldom see works that recognize both as integral to the whole. This is what I hope to see in the coming season.

Art memory

Teaching art history for a few years and studying for much longer, I feel pretty confident about my ability to notice certain visual details in art. And happy to have introduced so many to the same. Those who have taken art history classes know the challenge of sitting in a dark classroom being fed slide after slide of images with the hope that enough detail is retained for the essay exam or that awful art identification quiz.

My current visit to NYC museums and galleries including The Met and MoMA has taught me that no matter how well we can identify works of art or even analyze these works, seeing them in person refreshes our eye for detail. I've often shown students J.M.W. Turner's emphasis on light in his history landscape paintings as a technique pointing towards the Impressionists. But my visit this week to the Turner show reminded me that seeing Turner's later works in person is no match for the digital slides I showed in class. The later paintings by Turner that make up the end of the exhibition are almost indistinguishable from Monet's well-known landscapes. Every gallery I have visited in New York this week reminded me of the same point. No matter how well versed we are in the arts, we must remember to resist relying on digital reproductions of works of art and insist on seeing them in person as often as possible.

In the coming days I will write more about the importance of visiting museums and galleries as an exercise in engaging art honestly.

To things lost

I really did not expect to be moved by the 350 or so dresser drawers that make up Jana Napoli’s Floodwall: A Katrina Memorial currently on display at the Clifton Cultural Arts Center here in Cincinnati, OH. Though, I was immediately surprised by the grandness in scale of the wall. These drawers of various sizes and styles and clearly tattered are arranged in a grid over 8 feet high and 96 ft long that almost eerily evokes stability. It is this blending of strength in form and the fragility of loss that left me a bit unsettled.

The interactive nature of the show is what excites me most about Napoli’s tribute. The viewer can touch and even carefully open and close the drawers. We find in the drawers expected dirt and debris and in one instance, I found a lone sock. Viewers are also encouraged to leave a note in any of the drawers with a promise from the artist delivery to its former owner effectively personalizing the memorial.

Walking behind the wall, I saw the artist had addressed each drawer. These addresses and the show’s map marking the sites each drawer Napoli collected seem to recall home. But perhaps because I’ve never visited New Orleans, this information does not really touch my sense of place. Not until I watched the accompanying video clips of different parts of the city. These videos are displayed on four separate screens labeled according to the part of city and Katrina’s flood level at that location. They appear to be home movies depicting everyday life, life before the flood. That the videos are black and white and grainy, I think is meant to offer a sense of nostalgia. Though, that may be a bit heavy handed on the artist’s part since the flood did not occur that long ago.

Finally, it was Norma Jackson’s story that put me over the edge. I remember hearing many stories like hers. Stories of those who did not evacuate when warned so were stranded for far too long. While watching her tell her story videotaped for the exhibition, I along with a couple of other visitors shook my head. I was reminded of the embarrassing failure of response to those who needed help. A week after visiting the show, I am still haunted by Ms. Jackson saying, “after 3 days, we ran out of ice.” Three days?!

Forced to exit the show through the main gallery I tried unsuccessfully to avoid the sight of the massive wall of drawers Napoli constructed. I was saddened, embarrassed, and even angered by the unnecessarily great loss of life after Katrina. This large collection of drawers, which the artists suggests represents what we the viewers “hold to be precious and sacred,” pointed out to me instead a wall of things that were rescued. In Napoli’s attempt to humanize the loss through the displaying of everyday objects as treasured items, she dehumanizes us. And I think this is a well-deserved implication of the loss.

“Education” is boring?

In this week’s City Beat cover story we are introduced to a few local art education coordinators. Each tells of the challenges of introducing the arts and growing diverse audiences for our various art institutions. These challenges are well known and have been discussed so often they almost seem cliché. But it is true; the arts seem to be inaccessible. Most art administrators respond to this concern with innovative educational programming.

But not Cincinnati Art Museum’s Emily Holtrop. When asked about why her title was switched from Curator of Education to Curator of Learning and Interpretation, she said “education” is boring. Actually, what she claimed was people (which people, I don’t know) hear the word education and it’s boring. So she, presumably with the approval of the museum director, Aaron Betsky, changed the title. This is yet another reaction to the tired claim against a perceived stuffiness. Instead of making art more accessible through education, Holtrop simply removes “education.”

But it is not just a mere changing of her title. She goes on to say, “I’m not so concerned about whether we’re educating people….” I thought Holtrop was the art administrator responsible for supporting local school teachers and their curriculum. This means, our teachers who do care about educating their students are left to rely on someone who admits no concern for the same. Holtrop seems proud to claim “we took out ‘education’ and now we learn from you how you want to learn from the museum.” She should have learned how to learn while she herself was in school.

Holtrop and the art museum need to recognize that patrons young and old visit the museum to learn, not to teach. Teaching is a core mission of most museums and Holtrop has effectively removed education as a part of hers.

“It should not be missed”

People generally look to restaurant, book, film, and art reviews, to determine whether they should spend the time or money to entertain or be entertained. The media recognize that although so many deny relying on what some stranger has to say, the reviewer has the power to secure patrons. Understandably, non-profit art galleries and museums specifically rely heavily on reviewers to help swell their attendance.

Spending the last couple of years reading reviews of local art exhibitions I have found most to be informative rather than critical. As an advocate for the arts who encourages large audiences of every age for art, information that entices viewers is good. Such information, much of which is lifted from the press packet or the gallery website, functions as a nice primer before I make my own judgment. As an art historian, I don’t really need a reviewer to encourage me to see an exhibition. Though there have been reviews that have kept me home. If I hadn’t gone to the opening of ArtWorks Paper Chasers, Matt Morris’ review in City Beat would have been one of those reviews.

While it is clear that Morris is a friend of the artist/curator and I admire his support of her work, his attempt to laud the current exhibition with art theory does nothing more than force the average art patron to quickly dismiss the show and turn the page. With phrases like, “…a substantial constant that calls attention to the unique solutions each artist extricates from the broader continuum of connotations…” Morris’ review reads like what my former grad school colleagues referred to our own scholarship as intellectual masturbation. This is not for your eyes.

And if that is not damaging enough to the attempt to encourage people to see the show, Morris goes on to suggest reading Jacques Derrida. Derrida? Is he kidding? Art theory should perhaps be required reading to create a show like Paper Chasers, but not to view it. Morris’ reading suggestion only intimidates and discourages.

At the end of his review Morris seems to find his way back to his recognized reviewer’s voice. Finally, he insists clearly we should see the show. Because Morris spends too much time beating his chest and our heads with art theory only to come to a plea to see his friend’s show, he, ArtWorks, and the rest of us are left to rely on City Beat’s red “Critic’s Pick” that graces the review. Morris’ review thus risks not only alienating loyal art patrons, but reducing the role of the reviewer to a mere editor’s stamp.

“Starts with Community”

This is the title of Emily Holt’s work in “The Neighborhood Is Our World,” now on view at Kennedy Heights Arts Center. This is a black and white photograph of the bottom of a sign that reads “community” in black letters. The rest of the sign extends up past the picture plane indicating there was more to read. Holt’s shot focuses on the last word while her title reminds us the idea should remain first.

That Holt created this work as a student of KHAC’s own summer photography camp is no surprise. It is a testament to the art center’s focus on the neighborhood and the work of teaching artists like Natalie Hager who help their students honestly engage the world around them. Traveling exhibitions like “The Neighborhood Is Our World,” which will show in various venues throughout the Kennedy Heights area is the type if community arts programming that I have not yet seen here in Cincinnati. With this one exhibition, the Center celebrates local art students, established guild artists and the community. What’s more KHAC is able to begin moving beyond the “make and take” arts programming on which even the Cincinnati Art Museum still relies for membership. There is an immediate need to retire such stale programming that I’ve argued can actually stifle creativity. KHAC sees the value in inviting their students, adults and children, to see their work displayed alongside local working artists. Also with such innovative programming, the guild artists at KHAC are given the opportunity to hone their crafts through teaching and further expand their own portfolios while mentoring future Cincinnati artists. I hope to see art centers follow suit by implementing similarly fresh programs.

The Kennedy Heights Arts Center has taken the lead as a community arts center that puts community first while providing a wonderful home for artists to focus on not just selling but making art and possibly mentoring. Emily Holt’s Starts With Community is not only my favorite work currently exhibited in the galleries, but the KHAC and each of Cincinnati’s community arts centers should really consider purchasing a copy of the photograph as a reminding emblem of what a community arts center should be.

Scrap it

Grand ideas or themes for exhibitions have the promise to present new ideas by providing an element of freedom to the artists. ArtWorks Paper Chasers seems to attempt to do just this. But just as KHAC’s Fire last month, the downtown gallery is currently exhibiting works that share a single oversized idea that lacks solid curatorial parameters. Certainly, there were some pieces that seem to focus on paper, such as Lauren Clay’s cut paper capsules and Stacza Lipinsky’s cascading paper cuttings welcoming us into the gallery space. Yet there were others like Liz Kauffman’s series of self-portraits I especially enjoyed, though have no idea why they are included in this show other than they are drawings on paper. Then there is the mixed media piece by Ryan Mulligan that begs to be read as something more than a paper chase.

While I think it is important to have such shows that provide a certain creative freedom, with this comes the responsibility of the curator. Without clearly defined exhibition parameters that celebrate the artists’ creativity, interesting works like those by Kauffman or smartly comical installations like Mulligan’s risk being diluted to merely paper objects that fill the space.

“So beautiful, I cried.”

The aesthetic moment that brings one to tears. I’ve heard of this before and certainly can imagine being drawn to a work of art through an emotive power that seems impossible to describe. Rothko claimed his all-over paintings successfully drew viewers to tears. I would sometimes joke about this instance in my classes. Then after a class during which I introduced the passion of Rothko and Newman’s “zips,” one of my students approached me in tears telling me she got it, she felt it…the aesthetic moment. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy to have introduced a student to this moment or jealous.

As much as I am passionate about art, I had never seen anything so beautiful that it brought me to tears. Then yesterday, at the Cincinnati Art Museum when I casually drifted into Gregory Crewdson: Beneath the Roses I got it. This was the first time I had ever seen Crewdson’s photography in person. It is not only the large scale and wonderful detail of these photographs that mesmerizes, but the subject of American suburban stories that drew me in. To capture these rather gritty scenes with a lushness that is more often reserved for pristine landscapes or nature photography is wonderfully brain twisting.

I caught myself a few times trying to gain some stability by recalling Walker Evans, Diane Arbus, and Edward Hopper; a classifying habit that is the bane of the art historian. Though in the end pushed away those artists and their influential works and simply enjoyed Crewdson’s compositions, refusing to fight back the tears.