This past semester has been filled with its usual share of ups, downs, bitter endings and new beginnings. One of these fresh starts was a new job as an education intern at the Urban Arts Space, a contemporary art gallery located in downtown Columbus. Part of my job includes writing lesson plans and organizing events and public programs designed for a range in ages and abilities. One of my favorite programs, Art Explorations, incorporates the current showings in the gallery to introduce children ages 4-11 to the world of contemporary art. Below, I've included a link to the lesson plan I wrote for the first program I taught in the gallery, which was based on the exhibition, Art in the Shadows. 

ArtInTheShadowsLessonPlan.PDF

In this lesson, students learned about key elements of art and principles of design, and how they apply to the colorful, non-representational images of artist and pathologist Amy S. Joehin-Price, MD. Her photographs capture the rarely seen images of blood pathogens that create striking and undeniable patterns and beauty in the eye of the microscope. 

Students then created their own masterpieces using four different watercolor techniques to explore the nonrepresentational qualities of line, rhythm, movement, color, pattern and texture. Finally, they come together to collaborate on making one large composition to hang in our gallery display window. 

 Since beginning this position in September, I have learned a ton, and am continuing to grow as both a student and a teacher. The above lesson was the first one I helped in planning, writing and teaching, and since then, I have ran many more programs in the gallery alongside the education team. Another memorable Art Explorations lesson was based off the work of sculptor Terry Allen and the commissioned piece, Scioto Lounge, where students drew up their own plans for public sculptures and even created their own miniature statues out of clay. 

Below are some photos from Art Explorations and other programs I have assisted with throughout the semester, including our adult class, Crafternoons and community engagement events. 

Unfortunately I could not stay in "study-abroad-pure-bliss" mode forever, and that meant returning back to a summer of work. Luckily for me, my job is incredibly fun, engaging and rewarding, even if it leaves me mentally and physically exhausted by the end of the day. This is my fifth year working at a private summer camp in my home town that I had previously attended as a camper for eleven years prior. 

The camp has just about everything you would expect of your ideal childhood summer escape - canoeing and fishing on "the pond", an archery range and climbing towers, playgrounds and pools. I have spent the last five weeks working in the "art barn", planning lessons and helping kids create their very own quintessential camp crafts. I continue to learn from the kids each and every day - I could fill countless posts of all the incredible things this camp has given me and the lessons these children have taught me. It is the camp dynamic of carefree fun and wonder that offers something so unique to enriching and educating the campers that it brings to light some problems I may not otherwise realize exist when working with children. 

I have started to notice a habit among fellow counselors, and within myself, regarding the inevitable struggle of camp counselors everywhere: what to do when a child asks you to do something you just plain and simple don't want to do. 

Its different for everyone. For me its tetherball. I love playing most sports and camp games, but for whatever reason I just simply do not enjoy this game in the slightest. But the kids love it, and at least twice a day I find a group of eight-year-olds asking me to play them on the sandy courts. I often found myself either sucking it up and just playing, or explaining my declination with an "I'm terrible at it, you wouldn't want to play me!" 

I did not realize this was problematic until I started to observe it happening from other counselors in the art barn. I understand that art is not going to be every counselors favorite, and that is totally fine, and by no means do I expect everyone to be able to help campers in artistic challenges in the way I have been trained to. However, it started to bother me when I heard the very same "I'm terrible at it"s over and over again from counselors as they waved off the campers asking for their help. 

   "Oh no, I'm no good at art. Here, have Trina do it for you!" 

Not only do I have to stop whatever I am doing to help your camper, (just because you think you can't handle a project designed for third graders?) but it also subtly tells children that they shouldn't bother with things they aren't good at. If you don't want to do something because you don't like it, by all means, don't. But don't mask your declination with the excuse of inadequacy. You may think its not a big deal, but for campers who look up to their counselors, this may be their first lesson in embracing confidence. Especially in art, children tend to regard immediate talent and skill as the only important factors, and if at first they don't succeed, they give up. I can only imagine how many enjoyable activities I would have kept up with if I didn't eventually come to believe that "being good" was somehow more important than just enjoying myself.

 Being "bad at something" is never a reason not to do it, especially with children. You are better off encouraging children to find a different friend to play with, or helping them realize they are perfectly capable of doing the task themselves. Or you could just be completely honest and say "No I am not going to play you in tetherball because it is 9:20 AM. I am still hungover and also I just f*cking hate tetherball." (Ok maybe honesty isn't the best policy here). 
However you handle it, remember that even the most seemingly simple of words can have lasting impacts on kids. 

And if you ARE bad at something, but you love it, just do it, especially at camp where the environment is designed to welcome carefree fun. Sports, singing, climbing - the list of camp activities I suck at (but absolutely love) is endless. Most prominently I am an AWFUL dancer. But you can bet your ass that when I hear Party in the U.S.A. blasting from the camp speakers there is no stopping me. I have heard so many counselors tell me that they used to love to draw or paint or even just color in coloring books - but that they rarely do it anymore. I have a feeling that they never really stopped loving the art making process, but somewhere along their journey in life they decided they just were not good enough, and gave up. I think if we can adjust the way we regard our own abilities in front of children, we will be able to prolong the day that they throw out their crayons and paint-sets. 

As I move out of the art barn and in to working with a group for the rest of the summer, I will try to keep this in mind when a child challenges me in tetherball or asks me to swim with them (my second least favorite camp activity). A sweet smile and a simple "no thanks, not right now" can suffice in the place of "I'm no good anyways", and I can continue in my lazy ways without telling a child that you must be good at something in order to enjoy it. 

“You ready for summer? Have any big plans?”

“Yes! I’m going to be in southern Africa for-“

“Africa?! Are you building houses or something?”

“No actually I’ll be in Zimbabwe and –“

“Zimbabwe?! Make sure you get your shots. And be safe! You could get kidnapped!”

“I’ll be there for two weeks, then over to South Africa for – “

“Oh South Africa! Like Cape Town? I hear it’s beautiful there. Have fun”

This was a common conversation I continually had leading up to my departure in May. It appeared that quite a few of my friends and family members had misconceptions about Africa, which is a continent far too large to stereotype or define under any single image. Admittedly, I too had expectations of the continent that I had accumulated over years of skewed media images, biased textbook passages and just general conversations that led me to believe Africa was inherently poor, unsafe and damaged – a place that needed vigilant American souls like myself to come fix it. Of course, this is a crude overstatement of sentiments I now know are untrue, but reflect the general American understanding of the nations abroad. (That and lions – everyone seems to think that lions just walk up and down the street willy-nilly all over the place, but that’s not true either.) So I was leaving America expecting my life to be touched by the poverty and poor souls of the African nations, and that through this experience I would find a solution, a way to do my part in helping to “fix” Africa. In the following month, I learned more than I had ever learned in a classroom, and I grew to understand just how narrow-minded the picture I had of southern Africa was before I saw it for myself.

So how do I even begin to describe the last month of my life? I could tell you through stories – anecdotal snippets of the people I met and the places I saw; I could tell you through photographs – visual evidence of the culture that blew my mind, the nature that overwhelmed me with awe and wonder. I could show you my souvenirs, the tan lines or my daily journal, but in reality, no words, images or expressions could capture the freedom I felt and the total connection with the world I experienced while I was in Africa.

            We started in Zimbabwe; jet-lagged and already a little culture-shocked by the genuine kindness of airline officials (something foreign to American institutions). We were met at the Harare airport by our guide, Blessing, who proved to live up to his name in more ways than I could have imagined. We boarded the bus we would call our home for the next two weeks, and drove off to our rooms for the night. Even in the darkness, I could feel the purity of the landscape passing by us. The baobabs (or as we fondly nicknamed them, Lion-King-Trees) stood out like something from a postcard. I remember watching the moon rise behind one and losing my breath, knowing that I was really there, experiencing a new world I couldn’t wait to explore.  

            If I detailed my journey day by day, I would lose you in a mess of museums, guided tours, hikes, schoolyards and conversations, all strung together through friendships and emotions that I could never replicate in words. Instead, throughout the next few posts, I want to summarize the high points of my experiences as they relate to my developed interests of art, education and cultural issues. In most instances, these three intersect, creating an intricate and delicate balance of historical and contemporary culture that define southern Africa in both local and global contexts.

(a middle portion of the reflection has been removed: read here)

All of the southern African schools that we visited, both the private and public ones, incorporated art curriculum. Expression, creativity and critical thinking appeared to be emphasized in their contemporary classrooms, and throughout their traditional culture. The Zimbabwe private boarding school we toured early on in our trip, Peter House, had separate painting, ceramic and wood-shop studios that could rival a modern college art space. Even the public day schools that consisted of three or four rooms for all of the subjects and students had art and music courses, despite the lack of supplies and resources for the curricula. 

 Some of these schools had next to nothing (again, in comparison to American educational standards), yet were much richer in encouraging creative outlets and artistic inquiries than what I have seen so far in my U.S. observation courses and student teaching experiences. I begin to wonder if there was correlation between this emphasis and the general good nature of the local people we had experienced. Because the standard values of the traditional cultures that we encountered encourage the use of art and expression, as well as global acceptance, it was easy to see how this was reflected in day-to-day life and interactions between local people. 

Initially, I was very worried about coming somewhere as foreign to me as Africa and being received as a general “dumb American tourist”, but instead I felt more welcomed than I often do in my own country. I cannot think of a single local person I talked to who was not fascinated by hearing about where I was from, and everyone was nothing short of passionate for sharing their home country with us. I felt this welcoming atmosphere most directly from our time spent in the Langa Township outside of Cape Town in South Africa. Our guide, Siviwe, took us up and down the streets of his hometown where we were greeted with endless smiles, waves and “molweni”s. People welcomed us into their homes, their businesses and their playgrounds with open arms. Siviwe explained that the children of Langa, under Xhosa tradition were taught five basic principles to live by: don’t beg, don’t steal, don’t be racist, don’t envy those above you and don’t belittle those below you. You could absolutely see these values reflected in the people of Langa, (as well as the other townships we saw, for that matter), especially the children we met at the Happy Feet after-school program. 

            With incredible talent and drive, they created their own music and dance routines that incorporate both traditional and contemporary movements, as well as capturing group dynamics and individual personalities. Seeing these kids perform, and then interacting with them afterward, was a moment of clarity as I saw once again how the overlap of the arts, education and culture created a beneficial experience for all involved. Not only did the program give children a safe and enriching after-school activity, a hot meal, and something to be proud of, it also gave them an outlet of cross-cultural interaction and understanding. Seeing a program like this inspired me to consider how, as an art educator, I can create my own community influence. Wherever I end up in life, I want to help create that same sense of love and community that I felt in Langa.

 The dancing style these children experimented with was one we had seen in Bulawayo from the Hlofeni Dance Company, and had observed in other street performances and various shows. Being exposed to something so different than what I previously understood as “dance” reminded me of the art education philosophies I have studied in the past that encourage teachers and students to constantly reevaluate the definition of “art”, so that we are consistently expanding in creative and critical thinking capacities. 

Siviwe talked to us about the origins of these dance styles came to fruition through cultural foundations, such as the belief of channeling ancestral spirits through the ground, therefore all dance moves are based in the lower-body. As far as the variety and intensity of the facial expressions (often vibrant, dramatic and emotional, even in the child performers), what Siviwe told me is something I don’t think I will ever forget. He explained that as a teacher, he doesn’t instruct the students what to do with their faces, because that comes completely from them, as the face is the vessel of emotional expression, and that cannot be taught. 

“You can teach someone how to dance, but you can’t teach them how to feel,” he told me.

This is definitely a teaching philosophy I would like to adopt into my own future classroom and art practice. By encouraging creative and personal content in visual art, I will enable kids as creative thinkers, critical decision makers, and hopefully create a safe space where children are free to be themselves in a world that consistently tells them differently. To me, these qualities are much more valuable than how well you can mix your paints or blend your pastels. These are life skills that transcend beyond the canvas or pottery wheel and in to everyday life, making individuals more adept and societies stronger. 

In terms of artistic processes and products, I learned an unimaginable amount in one month. There were skills and practice methods I picked up from observing artists in their studios at Durban, the galleries in Johannesburg or even those working around curio shops throughout the southern tier. Most of the visual art we had experienced in Zimbabwe had a traditional basis or were items produced for sale in tourist shops to appease visitors who have a set idea of what they want “true African art” to look like (again, leading me to question the cultural implications and moral contradictions of tourist art.) I knew that there is a huge blooming contemporary art scene in southern Africa but I had not exactly experienced that until we reached the larger cities of South Africa. 

I was curious as to where the balance would fall, if any, between modern themes/practices and traditional, local art forms. It is the age-old question of “How do we adapt to modern global culture without losing our own traditions?” 

I could start to see this balance at the Bat Centre galleries and studio centers at the harbor in Durban. There were quite a few visual artists there that showed their global influences (in either content or technique) in conjunction with traditional practices. One artist produced large oil paintings of contemporary black celebrities, however he had portrayed them dressed in traditional Zulu kings-ware. Another group of printmaking artists I spoke to showed me how they use the Chinese inspired carving prints to portray vivid African landscapes, wildlife or cultural objects. There was certainly a wider range of styles and interests in these spaces than I had seen in any curio or craft market, and the global influence was undoubtedly embraced. 

The art scene in Johannesburg was again a completely different experience than what I had seen previously from the region. I was surprised to find that what we saw in Durban was comparatively more underground and urban than the Arts on Main warehouse building we visited in downtown Johannesburg. This art market set up had a wide array of galleries and shops that overall embodied much more of a direct European boutique culture and American media influence, combined slightly with traditional African designs. 

            It was in the courtyard of this warehouse where I encountered what I thought to be the most subtly obvious evidence of European influence and colonial pressure in the art world of southern Africa. There was a sculpture: a figure wrapped in blue fabric wearing sunglasses and tied tight with rope, standing next to a sign displaying a quote from Bulgarian artist Christo, “I WILL NOT DO ANY PIECE OF ART THAT HAS A PURPOSE”.  Now, this quote is actually about the artist’s beliefs towards propagandistic art projects, but with those words alone, out of context, I couldn’t help but notice the total contrast between what I had observed in all the tradition art practices of the Zulu, Xhosa and other native peoples. 

These cultures only made art with a purpose. Jewelry was made for spiritual use and wear, masks were carved for rituals – not to hang on walls for visual appease. Even colors had their own specific meanings, giving them purpose, and giving power to the works. 

            I don’t think there is a correct reason for making art – purpose or no purpose, but I am curious as to how to the uses of art changed in southern Africa due to European influence. Art and history collide again to create the world we live in today, and it goes beyond just process and aesthetic and in to actual functionality and reasoning behind works. 

            Being able to discover the variations between the art of certain cities and regions for myself gave me powerful insight in to what defines a visual culture and how it is integrated with social, political and economic cultures of these spaces. These artistic experiences are ones I will never forget, and plan on incorporating in my own pedagogy and art classrooms in the future. 

The past month has made me reevaluate how I approach everything from art, history, and education to politics, people and cultures. 

So when I return to campus in the fall, and people ask me how my summer was, I will tell them how my life was changed in a month. When they ask if I “built houses in Africa”, I won’t let them cut me off when I answer. If I get asked about tribal dances, I’ll explain the amazing traditional elements we saw while reminding them these elements are only a fraction of what the entire picture of southern Africa looks like. It is not just “huts and watering holes”, there are cities and skyscrapers and suburbs and everything in between. 

When people call me “brave” for going in to places they believe unsafe for a tiny white American girl, I’ll try not to laugh when I explain how I felt much safer in the African townships than I would walking down Fraternity Row on any given college campus. 

When people ask if I found the answer, if I know how to “fix” Africa, I will shake my head. 

“No,” I will say. “Africa cannot be fixed.”

Africa cannot be fixed. Africa cannot be fixed, because it does not need fixing. It is our perceptions and perspectives that need renovation. Africa, like any country, (yes, even our beloved Red, White and Blue) needs improvement. The areas we visited still struggle with poverty, the growing gap between rich and poor, and stark racism lingering even twenty years after the end of apartheid. But Africa is not helpless; the people of Africa are improving themselves and their communities to create changes that will outlast a purchase of Toms or other oh-so-charitable donations. We saw this in the townships, with people like Rosie and Siviwe who built self-sustaining businesses from the ground up, providing their communities with enriching opportunities and benefits beyond what any tangible American donation could give. 



View all pictures from southern Africa

In any society, arts, education and culture cannot exist as separate entities, but rather consistently complement and construct one another. Sometimes it is hard to see the direct overlap when you are examining your own culture – you have come to accept things as “just the way they are” without taking time to question how these ideas were constructed in regards to historical context and contemporary influences. However, removing myself from the familiar and entering a space I knew little about made it clear to me just how multi-faceted a society is, and how so many elements combine to create a culture unique to its people and regions.

            Along with overlap, I came to learn that cultures have contradictions that create complex problems for a society, ones that require more than one word answers or the signing of another legal bill.

            Our first day, we were welcomed in the Ministry of Tourism and Hospitality in central Harare, where we met with Walter Mzemi, Zimbabwe’s Minister of Tourism. He greeted us warmly, as every Zimbabwean had, and appeared ecstatic to have American students visiting his beloved country. In the past, Zimbabwe wasn’t always open or receptive to visitors, and because of past turmoil, most of the world’s media has portrayed the nation in a way no longer, if ever, entirely true. If I am being honest, there may have been a tiny part of me curious as to just how safe Zimbabwe would be for me, but as the weeks went on, I realized how influenced I was by negative images of a country that in reality is nothing short of spectacular.

            The minister talked to us about how Zimbabwe’s new philosophy was to “keep thy gates open”, because travel and tourism would not only bring money in to their economy, but also help to bring Zimbabwe to the world – showing others it is a nation of both peace and natural beauty.

            After leaving his offices, it seemed as though we had already found the answers. How simple! Tourism will fix Africa. Only one day here, and we already figured it out, may as well go home now.

            Of course, I had two whole weeks left in Zimbabwe to realize how the tourism industry had become a catch-22 for the country and the continent as a whole. In our trip, especially while in Zimbabwe, we visited quite a few staple tourist locations of southern Africa. From the tourist town and culture built around Victoria Falls to lavish resorts, safari trips and themed restaurants, we saw the typical images you see in travel magazines and brochures advertising the “African adventure of a lifetime”, where you could touch lions, see a few sunsets, eat exotic meats and then return back to your cushiony home in Britain or America or whichever “more privileged”, first-world country you were coming from. We juxtaposed these luxuries with local realities of the country – visits to schools, village tours and market excursions, all showing a much different landscape than your travel agent would have led you to. The differences between what we had seen on our glorious guided tours versus the littered streets of the cities and shantytowns were dissected heavily in our class discussions.

            A common theme I noticed between the tourist attractions was the intention of creating an “authentic African experience” for visitors that in reality didn’t look at all like the actual authentic Africa you could find just down the street from your luxurious hotel. Hotel rooms were decorated in tribal masks and mosquito netting, but that didn’t resemble any of the décor we saw in actual Zimbabwean or South African homes. I began to feel an extreme sense of guilt as we enjoyed dinners at restaurants that capitalized on stereotyping traditional African cultures. It’s not to say that there isn’t historical basis for representations, as a few things we saw later on in the traditional Zulu villages (authentic and actual operating villages that follow traditional Zulu cultural laws and practices) reflected what was accentuated in these tourist attractions. However, I wonder how many patrons to these resorts, restaurants, programs and shops care to dissect the representations from contemporary realities. The tourism industry may be helping Zimbabwe’s economy grow, but could it be hurting its global representation?

            I’m not saying that the “traditional African cultures” are inherently bad to show the world, because in some areas these traditions still exist and they are successful in their own rights. But for people who are only going to see this one side of Africa, and then make judgments about an entire continent based on “tribal” dancing and what many first-world citizens would consider a primitive culture, it will fuel a negative perception of southern African society. It will continue a cultural divide that prevents people from realizing just how “developed” (by American standards, at least), southern Africa really is. It eventually can translate in to racism, because the exposures some tourists may have only portray black Africans in this light.

If the economy is so in need of the tourism dollars, is it worth it to “sell out” your culture, so to speak? Is there a way to create attractions that portray a more authentic Africa that people will actually want to spend money on? These questions leave us with countless contradictions when we try to provide solutions to contemporary problems, not just in southern Africa, but globally as well.

I began to wonder where the balance falls. You want to be able to bring the world to Africa – bringing in that economic boost that the minister spoke to us about, but what if the only thing the world wants to see from Africa is antiquated stereotypes that are only going to further cultural divides and racism? The contradiction between the need for economic benefit and the push for proper cultural exposure perhaps can only begin to be solved through education. Maybe it is just a way for me to self-justify the enjoyment I got from the tourist attractions, or maybe I am just a conceited elitist American – but I do believe that my experiences at these locations were different than those of other tourists because I came in looking for misconceptions and had been educated by my professors to question the authenticities of representations. This is the kind of critical thinking and open-mindedness that I was not taught to embrace until college, and has led me to reflect on how close-minded some aspects of my K-12 education had groomed me to be.

            I think a large part of this problem stems from fundamental educational deficiencies when it comes to teaching global citizenship to our students. Textbooks continue to try to define contemporary cultures in concrete terms, when by nature societies are built around diversity, subcultures and historical influence that construct something you can’t capture in a single image or glossary passage. These flat images are consistently reinforced through media exposure of other countries. A vibrant example is of the images of the Middle East on the news; it is rarely shown to us in a positive light, thus becoming the only way we perceive an entire region and group of people. For Africa, these images either consist of stark poverty, or “barbaric” (again, by most American standards) ritualistic behaviors among groups.

            This is where I believe the art classroom can come in to play. Through cross-cultural studies of art – traditional, historical and contemporary practices, we can expose our students to the world with mediums that surpass a generalized image of the globe beyond our own country. Art and art history do not just teach technical skill and personal creativity – they teach students how to become higher critical thinkers and conscientious global citizens. 

Read the rest

View all photos from Southern Africa

I just received my last grade of the semester, and thus my sophomore year of college has come to an end. Like every year, this one was filled with its fair share of highs, lows and learning experiences that have shaped me as an artist, student and person in more ways than I could have ever imagined. I started this blog as a way to reflect on my experiences with art in my education and in my life, so I found it fitting to reflect back this past semester, and how it has influenced my perception of art and myself.

After my freshman year, I found that my technical skills had improved tremendously as a result of the rigor and demands of collegiate art courses and the time and practice I was putting in. 
After this year, I found that other things had improved in my artistic approach beyond just ability. I have become more flexible, more intuitive and more open to new experiences in art. I was forced to take classes far beyond my comfort zone (discovering that sculpture is certainly not my area of interest), that caused me to let go of my perfectionism and focus more on the process over product. I became engaged in art outside of my own classes, moving beyond campus and in to the community, working now as an artist in my own rights rather than as just a student. 

Among a semester marred by a crushing rejection and a confining illness, I found confidence in areas of my life that I never would have expected. I was elected President of my university's local education fraternity, was honored with scholarships and the promise of a paid internship for the 2014-2015 school year, and just today was named a recipient of my hometown's "Twenty Under Twenty" achievement award. I found comfort in the arms of my family and the 157 new "sisters" i inherited upon becoming a charter member of the newest social sorority on my campus. 

As I leave this semester behind me, I look forward to the next big chapter in my artistic and academic career: my first adventure overseas to study in Southern Africa. I will be photographing and journaling my travels through Zimbabwe and South Africa with 9 other OSU students, and am most looking forward to our stops in national and local art galleries, village craft markets and schools in both rural and urban areas of the continent. 

I will be leaving all ties to this semester, and this country behind. By shutting my phone off, and leaving my laptop in New York, I will be free of all distractions from social media, school and the general society I have known my entire life. I hope that these experiences can change me even more, and that I will have plenty to share with you all when I return. 

So long sophomore year, and see ya later America!

       Basically, what this man says in response to a student's question can be summarized in some cliche quote about being yourself or whatever, (I know we all know at least 3 white girls who's senior quote was "Just be yourself! Everyone else is taken!"), but I like the way he says it so much more. Because a lot of people maybe don't readily see the value in a career in the arts, or the value in art itself, it feels like the only way you can validate a career or major like mine is by "being the best". But that is just so wrong and I can't believe that at one point I really felt like I wouldn't be able to succeed or find happiness in my own work unless I was better than those around me. Art isn't in skill; it is in experience and concepts and ideas and stories and everything in between that skill only helps to portray. And no single artist/musician/creator/human-being is going to have the same outlook as another. Sure, there is going to be bad art, and I am going to make a lot of it, but its going to be unique to me and I think that accepting that is just "good enough" for me. 
       Lately it has been extremely hard for me to feel good enough for just about anything, but I dug up this video and its helped. I'm going to try to keep it in mind the next time I take out the trash filled with crumpled-up sketches or lug a twenty pound wire sculpture mess out to the dumpster. 


-trina

        After spending a little over a month at home relaxing, working on some projects (including this website), and burning through quite a bit of Netflix, I'm back at school ready (ish?) for another semester. While I was home, I had the great fortune of being able to hang out with my mom and check out some of the local art happenings that I was missing while I was away at school. About a week before I was set to go back to Ohio, we went to the Memorial Art Gallery, which has always been one of my favorite places in the city of Rochester. My mom and I have been long time members there, and ever since I was little she has been taking me to exhibits, classes and special events there. 
           We picked a good day to go, because it was one of the last before the current exhibit, titled "Memory Theatre", was set to close. Usually before we go to exhibits together, my mom or I know ahead of time or at least have heard about whatever was new and exciting there, but neither of us were really sure what to expect, and now, weeks later, I am starting to collect and understand my thoughts on what I saw.
         The exhibit featured many works in different media, from different eras, by artists of different nationalities and culture perspectives, and they all approached the broad topic of "memory" in different ways. There were pieces that took a more personal approach - from a collection of personal belongings and knickknacks molded in to a plastic head to painted comics that told stories of the artists experience growing up in a crowded apartment complex in Russia. There were pieces that took a more cultural approach, attempting to preserve the memories of certain eras or peoples - a series of photographic prints depicting multiple American responses to the 9/11 attacks, glass art pieces made from destroyed churches or monuments (including many pieces that came from the ruins of World War II war zones), and many other preserved artifacts from around the world. Many works in the exhibit dealt with the idea of memory after death - a wall of memorializing ribbons made from cremated remains of a loved one (gross but rad!), post mortem portraits, c-prints of individual copper canisters containing cremated remains of patients from a state-run psychiatric hospital - all serving as modern momento moris, if you will. Others chose to investigate the more psychological and scientific aspects of our notion of memory - interactive investigations of how we perceive/remember images (try it yourself!),  and a video chapter of a man's experiment of recording one word a day . 

    The collection of all of these fragments of memories collaged together almost brought me to tears. Even the ones that people didn't take as seriously (I only noticed a few hand-drawn penises) made for a collection representing the collective identity of the museums audience. These are the people who still go to galleries, and even if they were forced to be there on a school trip, they saw the art, and on some level, they invested themselves in it. One of the key things I learned about art during my first year at art school was that the viewer completes the work, and often in modern art, the viewer is a key factor in creating the work, while the artist merely serves as a catalyst for generating or documenting an artistic observation. This wall was such a vibrant example and it gave me the full-body rush and thrill that good art often does. 
   I know a lot of people may view this as a lazy wall to fill a gallery wall, and some wouldn't call this "art", especially by traditional standards, but I found it to be the most striking thing I saw all winter break. After all the different perspectives and approaches to understanding "memory" that this exhibit opened me up to, I think this is certainly the piece I will remember the most. 
   On the topic of memory, I have started this blog addition to my website for that reason - I want to be able to use writing as a way of collecting, organizing and remembering all of my thoughts and experiences with art throughout this new year. I hope that in this I will grow as a writer, an artist and a student, so that I can be the best that I can be and other cliche things.  I also hope that maybe some of you will be reading and commenting (critiques always welcome!) so that I can stay on track and encouraged. 


Thanks a bunch. 
Trina.