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Art & Social Change

Redesigning Education

By | Art & Social Change, Of Love and Concrete | 2 Comments

For the past four weeks, I have been working for the Baltimore Design School. I’m convinced that design changes humanity and that our pedagogy will transform our students’ lives. Design makes finding a place to stay along the super highway of information easier. It makes us look good. It makes us feel good. Design influences human experience. But how do you teach design to 12-year-olds so that it sets them on the trajectory to success? Recently four thoughts have resonated as I contemplate what design is all about…

Design is about details. Steve Ziger is one of the co-founders of the Baltimore Design School. He is also the principal architect of Ziger/Snead, the firm that designed the new $27 million dollar building that is shaping a future of Baltimore city filled with designers. He is excited about many MANY aspects of the physical building but there are some bits of information that he is giddy to share with just about anyone who enters.

“Did you notice the buttons?”

A number of the sinks — yes, bathroom wash basins — in the building were generously contributed by a local concrete firm. Embedded into a number of those sinks are buttons. Clothing buttons to be precise. Those buttons were salvaged from the building. Prior to its 30 years of abandonment, the building was the home to the Lebow Coat Factory. Those buttons are a nod to the rich history of the space. They are a minute detail that captures much more than physical space.

Design is about collaboration. Fans of “Mad Men” can probably tell you who the driving force of creativity is for Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. Don is the man. Similarly many non-architects could name a few of the 20th century’s most famous visionaries of 3-D art. The genius of the individual has been on display through much of history. Things have changed. Ideas and information are accessible to far more than the guy with a 150 IQ. In 2013, and likely beyond, it is teams and collaborative efforts that will create masterpieces time after time. Good design is design that has many perspectives to shape it. The design school building abounds with spaces for designers, staff, and community to gather and discuss.

Design is about the audience. Paul Jacob III spent the better part of the early 2000’s leading RTKL. The respected  firm has imagined and created breathtaking buildings that span the globe. In a conversation about design, Jacob said that “one of the happiest moments for an architect is taking a client into a building and them seeing that it is theirs. It is their story, their message and their vision.” Good design is about the audience and more importantly, audience ownership. Much like art, engagement and expression moving beyond the creator is extremely important. The common areas of the Baltimore design school are gallery spaces. Many of the walls of the hallways, cafeteria and gathering areas are “tackable” surfaces. What is created in the classrooms is not truly complete until it has been shared with others.

Design is about unexpected relationships. John Maeda is the president of the  Rhode Island School of design. RISD is among the greatest institutions of artistic education in the world. In a 2012 TED talk, John cited the ability to make connections where no one else can as the essence of what good design is all about. It is the surprising placement of two distant colors next to each other. It is the introduction of two polarizing personalities that creates a global enterprise. It is the connection between a state senator and the president of an art institution that created Baltimore Design School. It is the use of a hundred-year-old building to educate the future change-makers of Baltimore city.

IMAGE CREDIT. [www.baltimoredesignschool.com].

Numbers Dire and Inspiring

By | Art & Social Change, Art That Counts | No Comments

September is Suicide Prevention Month, which seems like an unlikely tie-in for my series of columns about art and metrics. But, the data on suicide is dire. In the United States alone:

  • Suicide is the tenth leading cause of death.
  • More people die of suicide than in car accidents.
  • Military veterans have double the rate of suicide as nonveterans.
  • The suicide rate of LGBTQ youth and adults is three times the national average.

And, of course, there is a solid connection between art and suicide; enough of my favorite artists—visual and written—took their own lives. But I’m not interested in being that sort of ghoulish, especially when, instead, I can talk about work that looks to alleviate the loneliness of depression and fund suicide prevention. Honestly, I can’t believe it took this sort of in-your-face connection to bring me around to exploring the metrics and results of popular art project PostSecret. Its creator didn’t start it to be about suicide specifically, but, by it’s very nature, it led people to share thoughts about loneliness, depression, suicide and gave a sort of release valve to those feelings.

If you’re not familiar…well, why ruin the sense of discovery. Check out the slideshow I made below to learn about the project, its influence and the connection to Suicide Prevention Month.

The Audience Is Not The Enemy

By | Art & Social Change, Of Love and Concrete | One Comment

The Baltimore Love Project worked for several months to gain permission to paint our iconic image on the side of Rite Aid. We first stopped by the store to find someone who could give us permission. As expected the clerk directed us to the manager. The manager offered words of support but had limited resources, and knowledge, to ink a deal. We proceeded up the ladder. We called corporate! It took a few calls to find the right department, but eventually we reached a sympathetic ear in marketing. Even with an advocate inside, it took several more months to have our one page contract converted into a signed sixteen page document. I am not certain, but I may have lost the naming rights to my first child.

After a three month journey through an organized institution we were ready to paint. We made one more phone call to the district’s city councilwoman. At the time we were not certain if a mural required a permit from the city. It does not. We also wanted to let her know of this great thing we were doing in her neighborhood.

She promptly told us to stop everything. She informed us that “this neighborhood has a process for murals.” Nebulous would be a compliment to the structure of the process that we walked into. We weaved our way through a myriad of community meetings, main street meetings, conversations with stakeholders, and email chains. After two months we did not know if we needed a permit (the permitting office feared making the correct legal decision based on political repercussions) or if the store up the street would call the cops on us. We pushed the councilwoman to act. She said “let’s put it to a vote”. Flyers were placed around the neighborhood and emails were sent to community lists. After a defined voting period the tally was in. 100 percent of the voters wanted the love mural in their neighborhood. 95 percent wanted the mural in the location we had worked to get permission. The councilwomen allowed us to paint, and we learned a valuable lesson.

The community does not have to be a liability. The community can be an asset.

The experience drastically changed our perceptions of engagement. If a work of art truly is about response, not just self expression, invite the audience to the entire work of art. Process is a significant part of the art. Process is also a point in which context can be experienced and understood by others. Context is how the audience gains access to a work of art. Context and process can be shared with the audience before the work exists. In so doing, the artists increases the opportunity to reach the desired goal of completing the work, which is now a shared experience with the audience, AND the artist can ask “what do you think” much earlier in the conversation. The audience can be a valuable resource to the two main objectives of the artist: creation and exploration.

Love wall number 6 at 3133 Greenmount Avenue was a turning point for our project. It gave us confidence about our ability to execute. We signed a contract with a multinational corporation. It gave us confidence as artists. We had a powerful idea that was accessible even before it was completed. And ultimately it improved our practice as artists to express ourselves AND explore new philosophies with others.

 

IMAGE CREDIT. [Sean Schedit].

Subject over Object

By | Art & Social Change, Of Love and Concrete | 2 Comments

MoMA PS1 is a satellite institution of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in Long Island City. PS1’s mission is to “display the most experimental art in the world”.

Many things about it are boundary pushing. It does not glisten near the “plastic” likes of Time Square. It unassumingly melds into the grimy street environment of Queens. It does not posses its work. It merely provides a space for work to be experienced. The work is not obvious like the sensory overload of a room adorned by Mattisse, Picasso and Degas. It is deeper with subtle nuance and lasting impression. The artistry is not about the perfect brush stroke, impeccable implementation of color theory, or hours of technical craftsmanship. The artistry is about the concept and the process of creation. PS1 is a place to experience the spectrum of values that art has to offer. PS1 moves art from mere object to dense subject.

The current exhibit Expo1 at PS1 includes several installations that push subject over object.

Art is paradoxical:

Upon entering the re-purposed school building that houses PS1, one instantly notices the sound of water. It is not a trickle of water, and it is not a torrent of water. It is the recognizable sound of a stream of water falling into a pool. It is unexpected, yet oddly rhythmic and extremely compelling. In short order one passes by the source. Meg Webster in her work, “Pool,” has turned an interior room into a pond oasis! The mini-ecosytem is complete with three feet of water koi, rock, moss and vegetation. It is the outside world brought inside. The paradox is aesthetically pleasing. More importantly, the paradox gives us new perspective. The man-made natural setting in the man-made architectural setting forces us to see nature. It unabashedly shows how beautiful nature is, and compels us to take note on our next stroll through the woods. “Art” — as we commonly understand it — does not alone own beauty.

MEG WEBSTER. POOL. 1998/2013. INSTALLATION VIEW OF EXPO 1: NEW YORK AT MOMA PS1. PHOTO: MATTHEW SEPTIMUS.

MEG WEBSTER. POOL. 1998/2013. INSTALLATION VIEW OF EXPO 1: NEW YORK AT MOMA PS1. PHOTO: MATTHEW SEPTIMUS. http://www.MoMA PS1.org

Art is process:

There is no space that art cannot be experienced. The boiler room in the basement of PS1 houses several works of art. Part of Saul Melman’s work, “Central Governor,”  is immediate upon entry. He has enshrined parts of the behemoth boiler with gold! It screams for the attention it deserves. Soot turned to masterpiece. Nearby in a small alcove is a piece even more compelling. A one-foot-square shape colored by crayon. It is so simple it is overlooked. Sol Lewitt conceived Crayola Square. Yes the object is extremely trite. Anyone with a kindergarten education could complete it assuming they passed the test to color within the lines. But the object is not the focal point. If one read the statement near the work they would find discrete detailed instructions for the creation of the work. The art is the implementation of the strict instructions for the square. The art IS the process.

Saul Melman. Central Governor. 2010. Photo by Eva Qin. Courtesy the artist. http://www.MoMA PS1.org

Saul Melman. Central Governor. 2010. Photo by Eva Qin. Courtesy the artist. http://www.MoMA PS1.org

Sol LeWitt. Crayola Square. 1999. Photo by Matthew Septimus. Courtesy P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center. http://www.MoMA PS1.org

Sol LeWitt. Crayola Square. 1999. Photo by Matthew Septimus. Courtesy P.S.1 Contemporary Art Center. http://www.MoMA PS1.org

Art is simple:

The top floor of the warehouse is the administrative area of the institution. It is easy to just forgo the trip up the final flights of stairs to see the few works displayed there. It would be just as easy to pass by the imperfection in the bricks about 10 feet off the floor. This is a refurbished warehouse after all and shabby chic is part of the experience. However, if one stops and explores the small crater in the wall, one will see the light. Alan Saret’s work “The Hole at PS1 Fifth Solar Chthonoic Wall Temple” is merely a hole through the east facing exterior wall of the institution. The beautiful beam of light that shines through is like a delicate laser. It feels like the divine peeking at you, smiling, and telling you that all is right in this moment. And it is. A hole in a wall letting the abundance of the sky be felt is art and it is simple.

PS1 is not a typical museum filled with objects of awe and wonder. PS1 is much more. It is filled with beautiful things, repugnant things, unexpected things, and simple things. But the things are not the end. The end is what the things bring out in you. The end is your new perspective on life and new revelations about the world in which you live that life. The end is not the object, but the subject.

 

Expecting Too Much of Creative Placemaking?

By | Art & Social Change, Art That Counts | One Comment

As is probably clear by now, I’m deeply curious and often delighted by creative placemaking. When it comes to evaluation of creative placemaking, however, I’m stumped or underwhelmed, and I’m not alone. Over a year ago, Ian David Moss wrote “Creative Placemaking Has An Outcomes Problem” and Ellen Berkovitch wrote a summary of arguments in “Can Creative Placemaking Be Proven?

Personally, I’m on the fence if the problem is in outcomes or expectations…

Outcomes: We’re not measuring (enough)

In some instances, funders and project organizers are content with anecdotal evidence or uncertain how to establish quantitative data for their projects. Metrics and analysis isn’t an important part of the project from conception, the effort to accomplish something is good enough.

Outcomes: We’re not measuring the right things

More recently, it’s been popular to tie artistic projects specifically to economic indicators — attempting to prove that an arts festival or mural project has increased home values or brought more jobs into a neighborhood. While these are valuable things if/when they can be proven, I don’t believe the value in an art project is in raising home values any more than I believe the purpose of a painting is to match my couch.

Expectations: Vibrancy Indicators & Causation

Creative placemaking grants from both ArtPlace America and the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) are both assessed after the fact using community indicators. To simplify things, I’ll just talk about ArtPlace’s use of Vibrancy Indicators (the specifics of each program’s indicators are different; the general use and intent is similar enough).

ArtPlace Vibrancy Indicators

ArtPlace Vibrancy Indicators

Indicators aren’t meant to be the equivalent of a project’s goals … which is good, because if you were handed $280,000 (the average size of an ArtPlace grant) to increase the jobs or even the walkability of a neighborhood, it’s unlikely that creative placemaking would be the tool you turned to. However, indicators are taking the place of evaluation and, as a result, projects aren’t assessed based on their unique goals and audiences. Again, this seems to hinder our ability to assess which projects are successful and which are not and the thoughtful analysis of those results.

In looking at these broad areas, the funders are evaluating changes at a neighborhood or city level that may or may not be attributable to the actual funded creative placemaking activity. These sort of changes (e.g., increases in an area’s population, restaurants or artspaces) are the result of a variety of causes and are very worthwhile to track (see Vital Signs data) but can’t necessarily provide any clarity about whether one creative placemaking project was more successful than another — let alone why.

Finally, if the end goal for funders (and creative placemakers!) is to move the dial on some of these indicators, it would be far more encouraging to engage in long-term funding of specific projects and their evaluation and refinement. While a one-year project can positively impact a neighborhood’s walkscore, it can deteriorate into a detriment three years later if there’s no capacity to maintain it.

Scott Burkholder has written about funders questioning the impact of The Baltimore Love Project:

One of my “fondest” memories made during the project was sitting in a prolific Baltimore foundation’s offices. It was one of my first pitches to a significant investor. He had the means to pay for the entire project. Trial by fire was an understatement. Despite our passion, we were not prepared to articulate a change that was of interest to him. He pretty much asked us how many kids would graduate from high school and go to college as a result of our work. We not only didn’t know the answer, we had no response.

Seeing kids graduate from high school and enter college is an extremely worthwhile goal, but it’s not something that happens with only a year of effort (as of the publication of this article, my own kid will be a mere 275 days away from this achievement, so I can say this with some authority). There are twenty Baltimore Love Project murals total — and five of those are at area schools. Will an incoming freshman be inspired by the mural at her school? Will she go to college and get an art education degree? Will she return to Baltimore and teach, having her own hand in inspiring countless graduates?

It’s all possible, but a program evaluation that occurs as a brief requirement at a project’s end can never hope to track such a thing and expecting a project to deliver on those terms is unreasonable. (I should clarify here that the Baltimore Love Project is not specifically a creative placemaking endeavor, but their experience is not a unique one.)

I think creative placemaking projects have their impact, but we’re not doing the proper work yet to best highlight those impacts. The issue isn’t just with the outcomes, but also with our expectations for the projects and the data both.

The Spectrum of Art

By | Art & Social Change, Of Love and Concrete | No Comments

Agnes Denes is one of the featured artists in the current exhibit Expo1 taking place at PS1 through September 2nd. Denes is an environmental artist. Her canvas is literally the world around us. The work on display at PS1 was documentation (photos) of a piece she created in 1982; Wheatfield – A confrontation: Battery Park Landfill, Downtown Manhattan. It is a powerful work of art! It is a work that calls for change as it exemplifies beauty, calls for hope, and explores the human condition.

Wheat1

From an aesthetic standpoint, the photographs probably do not do the piece justice, but what they show is nothing short of breathtaking. Remember the context is 1982. The Battery is not a lush green environment; it is barren. Also recall that 9/11 is unimaginable. A wispy rural wheat field, two acres of wheat growing in a near desolate environment. Golden rods of grain flitting in front of skyscrapers. The image that resonates for me is the amber grain waving in front of the Twin Towers, “America the Beautiful” to a T. The aesthetics of the piece left a tingling sensation in the body.

Wheat7

Webster defines hope as “desire with expectation of obtainment.” When Denes was inspired to do her work, the Battery was a desolate canvas. Two hundred truckloads of dirt were trucked in for the installation. She toiled with the soil for months to ensure that the plain was fertile. In the end, a bountiful crop displayed the amazing opportunity. An empty landscape can be so much more than blight. The opportunities with creativity and hard-work cannot be contained.

Wheat9

Two acres is not a lot of grain in the grand scheme of things. It does not feed many people, and it does not generate a lot of revenue, particularly considering the resources invested into the production. But Wheatfields explores something far more meaningful. According to Denes,

Planting and harvesting a field of wheat on land worth $4.5 billion created a powerful paradox. Wheatfield was a symbol, a universal concept; it represented food, energy, commerce, world trade, and economics. It referred to mismanagement, waste, world hunger and ecological concerns. It called attention to our misplaced priorities.

The field was more than just the beautiful landscape it created. It was even more than just the fruits of someone’s labor. It was a statement to one of the most powerful streets on the planet.

Things have changed in the 30 years since the field. Battery Park is a lush tourist destination containing many new symbols of hope. The Towers have fallen. Some things have not changed, hunger still exists and Wall Street excess still persists. I think there is room for many more installations to make bold proclamations like Denes’ two acres of wheat. There is still room to show us beautiful things in everyday surroundings. There is still a place to show opportunity. There is still a place to show us what really matters in life.

IMAGE CREDIT. [Agnes Denes, “Wheatfield — A Confrontation” (1982), two acres of wheat planted and harvested in Battery Park landfill, Manhattan, New York (© Agnes Denes, via theecologist.org)].

 

A Human Project

By | Art & Social Change, Of Love and Concrete | No Comments

JR is an international street artist who uses portraits to tell stories. His work is not only big in the sense that his canvases are typically measured in meters but his statements are huge!

Portraits of a Generation: Byron, Paris, 20ème arrondissement, 2004

In his early work, Portraits of a Generation, JR captured images of the overlooked population of  youth in the projects of Paris and posted them in highly visible locations throughout the city. In his later work Face 2 Face, he captured images of both parties to the Israel-Palestinian conflict and posted them side by side on the Separation Barrier. His most recent work, The Inside Out Project, is an open invitation to the world to tell their story through portraiture. The Emmerson Collective is using the project as a tool to highlight the stories of the newest residents of the United States.

Inside Out Baltimore: Kristin Stith, Scott Burkholder, Bonnie Schupp photo by Theresa Keil via What Weekly

JR’s work touches upon some of the most divisive topics: poverty, human dignity, the middle east, war, immigration and the list goes on. However, JR refuses to get political and professes that his work is apolitical. How can he do that? JR does so by looking at these circumstances through the lense of values and not as “issues.” He sees his work as telling the story of humanity

“This artistic act is first and foremost a human project”

JR: Women Are Heroes Action in Kibera Slum, Train Passage 5, Kenya, 2009

JR has tapped into the most powerful and important attribute of art. Art is about values!

When art is a place for society to explore our values, it is extremely powerful. By focusing on human story, JR directs our attention to our universal axiom of being human. He gives us dignity and causes us to explore dignity without regard for condition because we all have a story. JR and successful art gets to the root of humanity by using issues not for the sake of an agenda but for the sake of reminding us of the most important things about being human.

Exploring our values is extremely important! In a society, and world, that is hung up on the fleeting nature of issues, we have become overly divided. I dare say that there are values that all people will claim. Life, liberty,  love, the pursuit of happiness … to name a few. There are very few issues or interests that a significant majority would claim (see the current Habor Point TIF issue in Baltimore Maryland.). It is in our values that we will have the opportunity to not only work together, but to live together. The divided world needs to consider the values behind our thoughts and actions. In that exploration we might possibly find the ground big enough for all of us to stand on.

JR is not a politician, but his work is making big bold statements as if he were one. And his work is likely doing more to change the world than politics as usual.

IMAGE CREDIT. [Scott Burkholder June 2013 NYC].

Close Encounters of the Creative Kind

By | Art & Social Change, Art That Counts | No Comments

In a previous column, I explored a bit of the what and why of creative placemaking.  But what about the placemaking that’s happening here and now in Baltimore?

Earlier this summer, as I walked around Highlandtown with a group of friends, I stumbled upon two remarkable things…

The first was the Maryland Traditions Folklife Festival was wrapping up as we approached the Creative Alliance. The street was filled with music and smiling faces of all ages. Even though it wasn’t our destination, it was a kind of random joy, the sort you experience just from discovering the cool things going on in your city and the people enjoying them.

Further down the block, we discovered new benches and yarnbombed trees at the intersection of Conkling and Eastern. What had previously just been a street — fairly unremarkable — was now an inviting and creative space.

Yarn-bombed tree in  in Yellow Springs, Ohio

Yarn-bombed tree by the Jafagirls. Yellow Springs, Ohio.

Both of these encounters touch upon the strength of creative placemaking: Spaces are transformed and, as a result, they pique your curiosity, invite you in and just plain make you notice them. For residents, the process not only improves your immediate area, it also forges a sense of place and identity.

The public space at Conkling and Eastern is one of the neighborhood improvements that’s come out of a creative placemaking workshop held last May by the Southeast Community Development Corporation, the Creative Alliance and Banner Neighborhoods and facilitated by Deborah Patterson of ARTblocks. The workshop involved a wide cross-section of the community, including residents and area merchants, and resulted in a list of short-term and long-term goals for the community and the Southeast CDC. Creative placemaking is just one of the tools the CDC is using to promote and improve the community, but it’s a significant one because it allows so many voices to be heard and for residents to not only benefit from, but also participate, in the process.

That focus on improvements generated and determined at a grassroots level is the work of Deborah Patterson and ARTblocks and is informed in the placemaking process developed by Project for Public Spaces. I admire the work Patterson is doing because, while the process is consistent (i.e., public workshops soliciting community opinion on issues and solutions), the end result is awesomely varied:

  • A living chair in Druid Hill Park
  • A ceramic mural in Pimlico
  • A guerilla crosswalk in Hampden
  • Elephants in Mondawmin (coming soon!)
  • A mosaic mural on the facade of Westside Elementary (coming soon!)

Photos courtesy of Druid Hill Farmers Market (leftmost) and ARTblocks.

I also appreciate that ARTBlocks projects are happening all across the city, not confined only to designated arts districts. While I’m also excited for the developments in those areas (like the Bromo Tower crosswalks and Europe-Baltimore collaborative placemaking project Transit), I also applaud efforts by ARTblocks and The Baltimore Love Project to make all neighborhoods surprisingly and delightfully artful.

So much of what’s happening in Baltimore is relatively recent, so it’s difficult to quantify the impact of these projects. Next, I’ll be diving back into the numbers, though, and exploring the challenges of communicating the impact of creative placemaking.

Silo-Breakers: Scott Burkholder

By | Art & Social Change, Of Love and Concrete, Silo-Breakers | No Comments

Editor’s 0714_WVanthem …

At ChangingMedia, we love playing around with new technologies. One of our core beliefs is that tech has the potential to break down barriers and create meaningful social change. That pixelated sense of playfulness extends to ChangeEngine, where we’re always looking for new ways to send grand schemes and new ideas into orbit. Our most advanced technology, of course, is the genius of our contributors. But we also know that those new tools can push the debate and the work of social change forward. And so, without further ado and through the magic of Instagram video, we present the latest installment in our Silo-Breakers series — our very own bard of love and concrete, Scott Burkholder, on his work with GBTC at the intersection of art and tech.

Thanks to Scott for agreeing to be our pioneer (and a shout-out to ChangeEngine’s chief booster, the irrepressible Colin Seal, for suggesting the idea.)

[Want to join in the fun? Create a short Instagram video telling us what your silo is and how you’re working to break out of it. Share with us at changeengine on Instagram, @ChangEngine #breakoutchallenge on Twitter, or at facebook.com/ChangingMedia.]

 

Artscape: An Infographic

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It’s mid-July in Baltimore, which means a lot of the arts and entertainment-minded folks of the city have only one thing on their minds: Artscape. Artscape is the largest free arts festival in the country—so, yeah, I pretty much think it’s a gift. (Yes, I know our tax dollars pay for it, but I also know that it’s a far more awesome weekend than I can afford on my individual contribution to its organization!)

In honor of Artscape—which introduced me to the Baltimore Rock Opera Society, let me see Clutch for (again!) free, which surprises and amuses me with so much creativity—I created this infographic, summarizing the event’s offerings, scope and impact. And some grudging acceptance about how hot it’s going to be out there this weekend.

Have a lovely Artscape, Baltimore!

artscape-infographic