from
the collection
…
Painting the Place Between
(01
Dec, 2012 – 17 Feb, 2013)
Minnesota
Museum of American Art
30 Nov
2012, St Paul, MN
I
have not attended MMAA’s programming events for several years due to
having moved to Chicago for school. Let
me say, their new Project Space at 4th and Robert Street in downtown
St Paul is exceptionally light and approachable, and the same artistic
community I have grown to love and value over the years, was in appearance at
the event celebrating core holdings representing Minnesota’s regional artistic
heritage. The theme of the show seemed
to focus on a sense of place – an odd but fitting theme for a city celebrating
the 150th Anniversary of its rather dark history in removing Native
American tribes from their homes along the Mississippi River and resorting to armed
force to evict many of them from the state entirely. The background cultural context is the
approaching anniversary of the hanging of 38 (of 300 sentenced) Siouan patriots as traitors, the
day after Christmas, and a growing sense of and appreciation for the presumed
unrealistic goal presented by many Native American Minnesotans that the
historic Fort Snelling be razed, its removal reopening emotional and cultural
access by the Native American community to that area which had once been a
cultural heartland for their civilization.
Not since my time spent in Cape Town, South
Africa, or more precisely, Tshwane, fka Pretoria, and Mbombela, fka Nelspruit,
have I sensed such a salient, if silent, contestation of the sense of place in
a wider, post-colonial geography.
 |
| Song Yer Thao Field (2012) |
While the curatorial staff intended the
show to “shape a vision of our natural
space as mediated by the artist’s subjective experience and the shared legacy
and aura of painting on canvas… offer[ing] up evidence of the role the painter plays
in how we view and interpret our landscapes as common ground and shared legacy,”
the question on everyone’s mind is by what right and to what extent is this
legacy truly shared, to what extent is this legacy contested, and how do the
arts impact or facilitate either geographic appropriation or multi-cultural resistance. While the works by Betsy Byers, Bette Carlon,
Jil Evangs, Andrew Wykes, and Phyllis Wiener definitely are in dialogue with
the Western cultural canons, they are also dialoguing with American imperialist
art traditions dating back to Albert Bierstadt, Thomas Moran, and even Ansel
Adams. All of the artists are perceived to
be white Minnesotans, with the exception of Hmong artist Song Yer Thao whose Field (2012), rather than contrasting with
the other works, lends stylistic support to that of Jil Evans, Phyllis Wiener
and Holly Swift. Still, one to left to
ponder whether Fort Snelling has given up its cannon for the canon.
 |
| Bette Carlon Mnisota, Sky Tinted Water (1970) |
Understandably, the prominence given Bette
Carlon’s ‘Mnisota Sky Tinted Water’ (1970) serves only to highlight the
significance of this contested space with the original Siouan name for this
region having been appropriated for the entire state. St Paul fared somewhat better in that the
ancient Siouan, or Kaposian, name for the settlement off of Dayton’s Bluff, across from the
current municipal airport, was Imnizaskadan, meaning ‘White Cliffs.’ Imnizaskadan was the winter village and
farming ground for the early Dakota culture that had established itself here
prior to settlement by all those swarthy Irish and stubborn Swedes. Imnizaskadan was inhabited by the Dakota
until the Treaty of 1837 whereby they evacuated the bluffs and relocated to
present-day South St Paul, which was similarly given-up by treaty so that the
Dakota ended up down south near Mankato where the Minnesota Civil War of 1862
was fought. Imnizaskadan is clearly
identifiable within Mnisota’s canvas map.
Mnisota is a strong piece – an abstract
landscape as seen from above. One can
clearly see the extent of downtown and yet, the canvas is dominated in many
ways by the indication of vast water resources, being the Mississippi Rivers
and the St Croix. In blurring, but not
erasing, the shadow or colour of the white settlement, one might once again
appreciate the sense of place enjoyed by the Dakota in this bounteous river
valley with such abundant resources in wooded lands and rivers.
On the other hand, Betsy Byers piece, Convergence (2012),
is a
bit more problematic. Let me state that
I personally fell in love with Byers’ canvas due to its clear reference
(probably unintentional) of the work of the Saskatchewan or Regina Five, a group of
internationally renowned Canadian artists from the opposite edge of our high
prairie cultural region. The colors, the
shapes and even the evocation of movement by manipulating the shapes and planes
even more so than the colors, all reference strengths of the Canadian
group. In fact, in as much as MMAA
asked for
direct comment on this piece, numerous spectator commentators picked up on the
primal ice-age feelings conveyed by the bold, cold colors and the sharp, icy
fractals, though one person agreeably stated that she saw Minnehaha Falls in
the canvas – which was my second geographic sense of place in Byers’
piece. I think it is brilliant and
together with Mnisota, truly made the exhibit for me.
Contrasted with Carlon’s Mnisota, however,
we still come up against the sense of appropriation. As Midwesterners, we are completely freed to
appropriate, enjoy and celebrate our natural surroundings in a way that
instills enjoyment, serenity and a sense of belonging to all of us. However, Byers’ piece referenced the ice age,
the prehistoric dawn of this post-Ice Age environment – leading backwards into
time beyond even the Dakota or the mound-builders who predated even them. In as much as she was able to accomplish
this, her work is amazing, but it does thusly raise certain questions as to our
appropriation of this past – are we entitled to appropriate this environmental
past? Are we appropriating it solely
from the silent witness of history or are we in a sense re-defining the history
of this place in a way that gives us, all being relative newcomers to the area,
an inappropriate, somewhat imperialistic sense of belonging and ownership, a
sort-of environmentally Calvinist sense of predestination? Is there a mark left from, or should we even
worry ourselves about noting, the previous cultures that rose up, thrived and
moved (were moved) on out, away from these ice-age rocks, these pristine woods
and the physical environmental reminders of this heritage? In collapsing the passage of the eons between
the ages referenced in her icy blue canvas and the present, are we in fact
silencing the witness of previous nations such as the Dakota Sioux in the act
of claiming these experiences and memories for ourselves? I don’t intend to be so trendy as to
recommend that there is a right or even an easy answer for these questions, but
with the weight of the Sesquecentennial hanging above our collective culturally
aware heads this Christmas, I think it is interesting and pertinent to consider
how our past and attitudes towards that past are reflected, even if
unintentionally, in our art and what our rights and practices of appropriation
are. Again, I am not pretending to be
clever enough as to suggest an answer, just personally engaged to the point of
needing to ask the question.
 |
| Swift Cascade (2010) (detail) |
Swift had two ‘pieces’ in the exhibit. Her larger Spring Cascade (2010), and a smaller series
of “colour studies,” equally capable and impressive in their ways.
In
fact, I actually preferred the studies and would perhaps have been more willing
to stand viewing a much larger collection of them in order to move beyond the
individual pieces and the limitations of the small canvasses in order to gain a
larger sense of the environment and natural surroundings she is celebrating in
these bite-sized image captures.
Spring
Cascade is much larger but seemingly also focuses on a single element from
within the larger natural context to explore the planes of the rock and the interplay
between the dark granite and the sunshine along those planes. My problem is that while a larger collection
of her “tiles” would have easily transported me into the world she was
exploring, Spring Cascade kind of
left me cold and feeling like I was examining a specimen piece within a large,
formal institution, or perhaps a detail rather than the whole. With the disclosure that I am friends with Mr.
Ingli, and so admit a probable bias, I feel that Ingli’s work demonstrated much
of the same technique but in a way that included not just the hard rocky nature
of Minnesota, but also the contrasts flora and implied fauna of this region
while giving us a much more completed sense of place within a natural context
(as opposed to be being removed from that place into an institution) and sense
of movement and interrelationship between natural elements.
 |
| Kaiho Yusho landscape (ca 1602) courtesy St Louis Art Museum |
I am grateful for this viewing of Swifts’s
work in that she has suggested to me a potential understanding for the natural
affinity that exists within my mind between the nature art culture of Minnesota
and that of Japan. Having had access to
shows and permanent displays of many amazing Japanese art screens over the past
two years in Chicago, I spent many, many hours contemplating the rocky
mountainous shapes in many of those screens and attempting to understand how
they contributed to the natural sense of flow and yet stability and permanence
for which Japanese art is known – and that might be the affiliation – a shared
understanding of the rocky planes that shape, uphold and illuminate our
experience of nature in their bare outcrops.
The Minnesota-style would perhaps utilize (in my limited experience of
art) flatter, wider, more conspicuous planes reminiscent of the sharp, jagged
planes in the oft-fractured or fractal cliffs of natural rock in the
Midwest. Yet, while the Japanese often
focus on single simple elements, often well-worn and rounded, they are always
seemingly careful to include the softly breathing natural elements alongside
the immovable, permanent rocky foundations – and that is where I feel that
artists such as Dewey Albinson, Wiener and Ingli have gone that much further in
‘completing’ the tone or preparing the finished environment for the viewer – as
one of my favorite cooking show hostesses is fond of observing – the secret is
in the seasoning – technique means little until the dish has been properly
salted – it is the seasoning that completes the assemblage.
 |
| de Kooning untitled (1986) |
 |
| Evan's Breaking Light #5 (2011) |
as failing to encapsulate his
(not her) style and technical evolution.
I feel horrible in having reacted that way, but at the same time, such
reactions are something that she should expect under such circumstances –
taking it both as a compliment and a challenge to move more clearly beyond
where he left off. Nor was I alone in
this reaction, for another viewer responded in conversation on the piece, “Oh
you mean the landscape by de Kooning…”
Clearly we were all on the same track – probably not the one the artist
intended.
I think it appropriate to say something
about the space. I loved the fact that
it was unfinished – in fact, were the cost not so prohibitive, I would have
passed out hard-hats to the attendees and played up the sense of play and a
childish sense of trespassing that was instilled in the event. The acoustics are a bit harsh – I enjoyed the
band, but it was too loud to talk or even contemplate the work properly – one
had the feeling of being at a high class and enjoyable wedding reception rather
than at an ‘event.’
Similarly, I enjoyed the sense of viewing a
rather academic and institutionalized show in a space that was so vibrant and
actively unfinished – the contrast was readily apparent and easily
enjoyed. Keep it up – no, I mean it,
keep it up!
Minnesota has a lot of great exhibit space
and a combined art collection rivaling any locale in the nation. However, I have found lacking since my
return, two key elements of a vibrant and enjoyable ‘scene,’ – those being
dialogue and experimentation. By
dialogue, I don’t mean us talking about art, but rather the art forcibly
demanding to talk to us.
I know that everyone has their own goals,
tastes and visions for such spaces, but I would encourage staid, church-ish St
Paul to loosen up and take a chance on being naughty, irreligious and out of
bounds by using this new space to mount serious challenges to the way we think
about our city and how we live our lives within it. I enjoyed the contextual dialogue on space
and belonging-ness – or even the imperialist conquest of geography, but such an
important message really needs to be a bit more graphic, a bit more challenging
– less Minnesota nice. If our society is
going to truly delve into and resolve matters of integration, budgetary constraints,
gay marriage, and historical cultural sins, we need to add some heat to the
fire.
This fall, the patriarchal thrones on the
hill (pick your favourite – we have two domes filled with controlling little
men) overlooked a rather placid, peaceful city while demanding obedience,
conformity and order from the city below – quite literally in one case, in the
form of a Foucault-esque media campaign including Medieval banners hung from soaring
ramparts designed to intimidate the city below.
In such a town, we don’t need another space to sip wine and dress coyly
in black, we need some rabble, rousing it up around the bonfire of the arts and
raising up a challenge to those little old men on the hills to explore, drink
from and explode that cultural fount which too often seems a bit too cozy in
its woolens and tweed.
In other words, MMAA would do well to let
the Walker be the Walker, and MAI be MAI while MMAA
does something different – something that would make Garrison himself feel
uncomfortable enough to sit up and take notice.
Hopefully, the powers that be are looking at clubs such as Plug-In in
Winnipeg (the little gallery that once took the honours at the Venice Biennale) and Mediamatic in
Amsterdam and will seek to harness and host such energies and cultural
confrontations here in our staid little town.
It’s no longer a matter of enjoyment or not, but rather of reclaiming
the voice of the arts to answer the challenge of political fundamentalism.
 |
| Byers Convergence (2012) |
Our culture is right now a hotly contested
piece of real estate – either we learn to speak up for it now, or our voice
will be drowned out to the tune of a snappy little swing dance. Remember, even Sandro Botticelli himself gave
in to Savanarola. My hope is that MMAA is able to seize the
initiative of resistance and to embody it in such a space as they have now
opened at 4th and Robert Street.
Well, here’s to hoping – after all, it had
to be said. For all of their creativity
and demonstrated talent, Mnisota and Convergence are good, but they are
hardly going to convict, let alone challenge our city enough to grasp and
grapple with the issues that need to be confronted. We’re going to need something a bit more –
well, a little more spicy, with a little less drawing in the lines. After all, we are the home of Minnesota
hockey – let’s get a little Wild™ (my
apologies to hockey).
~ Piedac
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