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Resistance and Dissent in Milwaukee: Visions of Tragedy

By Uncategorized

The high drama and brute emotionality of German Expressionist prints exhibited in the Defiance Despair Desire: German Expressionist Prints from the Marcia and Granvil Specks Collection provided the perfect context for a discussion panel “Visual Artists Responding to War,” held on Thursday, February 12th at the Milwaukee Art Museum. The exhibition features bold and dramatic prints from Max Beckmann, Emil Nolde, Otto Dix, Kathe Kollwitz along with the works of other leading artists of the movement. It is a collection of artists convinced of the power of their art in bringing about social change, whose experimentation in stylistic representation of humanity within the rigorous technical concerns of printmaking still speaks to us of the human resilience and vulnerability in the face of unspeakable horror. The artists used the revolutionary style and subject matter of their images, as a way to bypass official institutions and communicate directly with the public. An atmosphere of social turmoil, violence, and national insecurity leaps off the walls, profoundly moving the viewer.

A diverse group gathered in the Lubar Auditorium to hear presentations from printmaker, professor, and World War II veteran Warrington Colescott; political artist, writer, and teacher Nicholas Lampert; and photojournalist Rick Wood. Despite the regional character of the panel—Colescott is a professor-emeritus from University of Wisconsin, Madison; Lampert teaches at the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, and Rick Wood works for Milwaukee’s Journal Sentinel, the discussion centered on art that seeks to engage the world outside the self, be consciously political and bring about change.

There was no attempt to conceal a liberal agenda. Nicholas Lampert, immediately announced that his presentation would be an “unabashed antiwar protest,” emphasizing that the current state of “perpetual war, is the greatest tragedy of our time.” Similarily, Colescott displayed prints of some of his best political cartoons, attacking the Bush administration as well as the mass slaughter of deer by the Wisconsin hunters that is presented to the public as necessary population control. It was perhaps Wood, due to the nature of his work as a photojournalist, who tried to provide a more unbiased view of suffering and tragedy that ensued from the attacks of 9-11 and the recent war in Iraq. The discussion was anchored by Colescott’s age and experience as a veteran of several wars, and his reputation as an established and accepted artist. His work is included in the permanent collections of the Museum of Modern Art, the Art Institute of Chicago, the Metropolitan Museum, and the Smithsonian among many others. He located the others’ comments within the timeline of history, calming the volatile and highly political subject matter of the event.

Colescott took the podium first, proceeding to talk “personally about war, having lived through too many of them.” He presented graphic highlights from his career as a printmaker of over forty years: starting with his education at UC Berkeley, including time spent in the trenches of Europe, garrisons of Korea. Since the late ’40s he has been a professor at the University of Wisconsin, Madison.

His prints, particularly etchings with aquatint, combine a strong narrative component with montage-like compositions executed with a bravado of line and color, as well as a fine sense for the vulgar and the apocalyptic, characteristic of master printmakers like Hogarth, Callot, Goya and Daumier.

The subjects of his caricatures are often political: generals, officials, presidents presented in situations often involving cross-dressing and sado-masochism. Actively engaged in a profession in which success is measured by the amount of censorship and persecution leveled against the artist, Colescott states: “I hate triviality, and the demands I put on myself specify complexity: if you seduce, do it with wit and creativity; if you attack, do it with skill; if you educate, do your research.”

A presentation by photojournalist Rick Wood followed. A widely traveled reporter, he shot photographs in Somalia and Cambodia and also visited Iraq in 2000 as part of a team invited by the Iraqi government to assess the state of the country severely crippled by UN sanctions.

Images of children suffering in hospitals, lacking the basic supplies, in homes where starvation and malnutrition were commonplace, were poignant in light of reports in which Iraq was being presented to us as a country that is somehow dangerous. These scenes were replaced by photographs of 9/11, which Wood witnessed and recorded in person—jet fuel burning away at the infrastructure of the World Trade Center buildings just seconds before the collapse, shapes too closely resembling human proportions in open air, which in a different context could be easily mistaken for hovering birds, expressions of shock and disbelief on the ash covered faces of witnesses. Little analysis was needed, and Wood supplied some factual data, maintaining that his goal as a photographer is “to record the human condition.” The look on his subjects’ faces indeed spoke eloquently for the frailty of our species.

Nicholas Lampert closed the night with an impassioned presentation, describing the current state of the anti-war movement in the US and displaying some of its graphics. He emphasized the increasingly important role of the internet in disseminating images of dissent, crediting it with the greater amount of publicity that the anti-war movement gained in 2002 as opposed to 1991. He particularly stressed the role of websites like www.protestgraphics.org. Full of copyright-free, bold, and powerful protest graphics, the website received enormous amounts of traffic following the start of the invasion. And while the speech had a slight accusatory subtext — many of the images Lambert presented referenced the logos of major corporations pointing the finger at the consumers and the taxpayers, the focus rarely strayed from the ability of the internet to help organize and spread the message of the anti-war movement.

No image or photograph can match the reality of war, and every artist that has in any way referenced it has to address that certainty. The tension inherent in the work that grapples with this issue greatly contributes to its power. The prints of German Expressionism on display in the museum can attest to that. The recent bloodshed in the streets of New York, Baghdad and Kabul brings these works of art much closer to us. Whether considering them as art of response or a call to arms, their power seems particularly great in our time. Most of them were created for a mass audience of artists and non-artists alike. One of the most difficult problems that any artist with a populist attitude must struggle with is the legibility of one’s art in relation to its quality—the message must be clear every time, while the envelope has to be pushed in order for it to maintain its vitality as art. Some assert that German Expressionism failed precisely because of that—artists drifted too far away from the initial goal of affecting social change, and lost themselves in the examination of the inner self. At this point in time, the art of resistance in the United States tends in the other direction, but then again, none of us are yet to be confronted with disaster as great as a world war.

More information:
Warrington Colescott
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel and Rick Wood
Anti-War Posters

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Snow White and the Trouble of Interpretation

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A Swedish/Israeli incident occurred at the anti-genocide conference “Making Differences,” when the Israeli ambassador to Sweden began to dismantle Dror and Gunilla Sköld Feiler’s installation “Snow White and the Madness of Truth.” After the ambassador Zvi Mazel was removed from the Museum of National Antiquities, he was quoted by the Associated Press as saying, “[I] couldn’t have reacted in any other way.” Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, according to BBC News, commented, “It would have been forbidden not to have acted on the spot.” But was the meaning of the installation so easily read?

In “Snow White”, Johann Sebastian Bach’s “My Heart is Swimming in Blood” plays over a pool of red water, on which a toy boat, with a picture of former law student and suicide bomber Hanadi Jaradat, floats. The installation can be interpreted as follows:

* Reading 1) Jaradat sails valiantly on a sea of Jewish blood. Her attack was a victory, the way to paradise.
* Reading 2) Jaradat, like Elizabeth Bathory, is beautiful, but deadly, bathing in the blood of her victims.
* Reading 3) Jaradat, and many other desperate people, do horrible things in support of their political beliefs.

None of these readings of the Feilers’ “Snow White and the Madness of Truth” can be absolutely true. Whether or not the application of a single meaning can ever be integrated into the whole of anything is, perhaps, the main question at the heart of modernity.

The “Snow White” controversy is not about a simple statement; it is about the interpretation of a work of art. The Israeli government suggests that discussion, whether or not in Israel, about Palestinian suicide bombing, or anything which can be negatively interpreted about Israel, should be forbidden. This sentiment recalls the Iranian response to Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses, but limits the demand to silence, not death. The Israeli state’s response implies dialogue is unacceptable outside of their terms.

The application of meaning, though essential in the attempt to understand the universe, is always subjective. When Zvi Mazel toppled the spotlight and caused the commotion at the Museum of National Antiquities in Stockholm, he attempted to force his own reading of the piece, as “a call to genocide,” on everyone. This rigid position, supported by the Israeli Foreign Ministry, serves to limit discourse not only on a work of art, but on the continuing Israeli/Palestinian conflict as well. However, dialogue and peace cannot be pursued in honesty by eliminating the avenues of discourse. The current state of misunderstanding and violence will continue to cycle.

“[Mazel] said he was ashamed that I was a Jew,” the BBC News reported Feiler as saying, after the ambassador assaulted his installation. Interestingly, Dror Feiler has been villainized because he is not only an Israeli Jew, but also acts as the president of Jews for Israeli-Palestinian Peace. He attempts to engage in artistic as well as political conversation in his work. Furthermore, Feiler offered the following interpretation of the installation to BBC News: “The work had a message of openness and conciliation,” and Hanadi Jaradat, the suicide bomber, was “weak, lonely…capable of horrible things.” These readings are quite different from “the call to genocide” that Zvi Mazel saw.

No one, not even the artist, has an authoritative reading of a piece of work — Israel has no right to ask Sweden to censor speech or anything that hints at an anti-Israeli interpretation. The logic is similar to that of President George W. Bush’s abstinence-only sex education programs. The analogy is that if a teenager knows how to use a condom, he will have sex; if someone presents suicide bombing as anything short of genocide, he will cease to recognize Israel’s right to exist.

For more information see:
http://skold-feiler.sida.nu/
http://www.tochnit.aleph.com/drorfeiler/
http://www.avantart.com/feiler.html

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Empowerment or Punishment?

By Uncategorized

Some basic elements of the No Child Left Behind Act
(Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 2001)

taken from the publication Education Week:

• all public k-12 schoolchildren must achieve “proficient” level on state standardized tests by 2013-2014
• toward this, all schools must demonstrate Adequate Yearly Progress(AYP) for their state or face sanctions from the federal Department of Education up to & including losing Title 1 funding(federal aid for schools in impoverished areas) and/or having the school taken over by private management.
• Schools must implement state standardized tests for grades 3-8 in math and reading by 2005-2006 school year, with science testing added by 2007-2008.
• Districts must provide states with “report cards” evaluating school performance, and states must provide the DOE with “report cards” on district-wide performance.
• Teachers must meet new federal qualification requirements beginning in 2005-2006.

To an audience of schoolchildren, President Bush said in January that the new law will “empower your teachers and your principals to achieve the objective we all want,” but many educators see NCLB as punishment rather than empowerment. The school-reform advocacy group Rethinking Schools has come out against NCLB, arguing that it is under-funded and therefore is like “telling children to run a marathon on a gravel path, but some will run barefoot while others will wear $100 running shoes. It’s not hard to guess who will come in first.” Some states, such as Hawaii and Utah, have already introduced (but not passed) statewide legislation that would forfeit federal education funding rather than submit to NCLB’s requirements.

To celebrate Congressional passage of NCLB, the Department of Education constructed outside its main doors a replica façade of a classic frontier schoolhouse. The fake schoolhouse is clearly meant to inspire nostalgia for the good old days of education, when teachers cared about each individual student, knew their parents, and stuck to the basics: reading, writing and arithmetic.

Public school education in America today looks much more varied and segmented than the old one-room schoolhouse did. The diversity of approaches to teaching, large class sizes, and variety of subject areas can be both good and bad for learning, and many educators welcome the stated NCLB vision of a level playing field for all children. As the law’s new testing requirements begin to take effect, however, some teachers and school administrators are questioning the appropriateness of a return to “the basic three” subject areas.

What does all this mean for teachers of art in the public schools? Will states and school districts be willing and/or able to maintain a commitment to art education for all children in the face of escalating testing requirements in the other subject areas? Will art teachers coming out of SAIC be up to the inevitable challenges of teaching art in the current political climate?

Therese Quinn, Assistant Professor of Art Education at SAIC and director of the (Bachelor of Fine Arts in Art Education) BFAAE program, anticipates that art teachers will feel NCLB’s impact in two major ways. First, she says that additional credentialing requirements for teachers, which will be put in place in schools over the next three years, may make it extremely difficult for professional artists to teach in the public schools. While these art teachers often hold MFA degrees and have years of teaching experience, Quinn says, they may not be considered qualified to teach under the new rules. “The yardstick that No Child Left Behind uses to determine who is highly qualified,” she says, “is a faulty yardstick.”

Quinn believes NCLB is also harmful for teachers and students because its emphasis on tests means that teachers will be forced to use the same material in each school, whereas the best teaching practices are usually tailored for each community’s different needs. “It undermines the concept of teachers as professionals,” she said, meaning that, like other professionals (such as health professionals, for example), teachers and their supervisors ought to have the ability to determine how best to do their jobs. By imposing standardized tests as the only measure of success, says Quinn, NCLB takes away teachers’ authority to select the content of lesson material.

In Chicago, Quinn highlighted that NCLB is the last thing the public school system needs. “It’s a system that already has a lot of problems, and NCLB is going to exacerbate those problems,” she says. “One thing I’ve seen is that a shockingly large number of art teachers who are certified are working with no budget,” and have to pay for materials out of their own pockets.

Although The No Child Left Behind Act names art as a core academic subject, the law makes no additional money available to help art teachers do their jobs. “It’s not offering any solution to the problem of funding for the arts,” Quinn said. “A lot of people are saying, ‘Great, finally the Bush Administration is saying the arts are a core academic subject,’ but it’s false because if you don’t have any resources to support the arts, then it doesn’t support the arts no matter what the law says.”

When asked how regular people ought to respond to the No Child Left Behind measures, Quinn had a few specific suggestions. “Teachers and families need to resist these measures as they are coming down the pike.” She cited an example of a group of Chicago schoolteachers who refused to administer a new standardized test to high schoolers which would have prevented some kids from graduating. Although some teachers were punished for their public resistance, the following year the city quietly pulled the test from the schools. According to Quinn, this demonstrates that resistance to unreasonable new requirements can be effective.

Quinn also suggested that activists who are involved in protesting government action in areas such as globalization, the war on terrorism and the environment “need to look at education and think about how it is connected to some of these other issues.” She recommends that everyone “go and visit a couple of Chicago Public Schools. Pick one on the West Side, such as Lawndale, and one magnet school,” and see how under-resourced the non-magnet schools are. “Kids are just as wonderful in both kinds of schools,” she said, but the differences in funding between the two are resulting in a poorer education for the mainstream students.

The jury is still out on whether NCLB will have long-term benefits for public education. But for art teachers, the new requirements and punitive measures in the act may prove more costly than helpful.

For the U.S. Department of Education’s take on NCLB, visit the Department of Education website .

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Speaking Out From The Inside

By Arts & Culture

A prison sentence is high on the list of things no woman wants. What are you going to do if you have to serve time? If you lose your kids, give birth in restraints, get bribed by guards or other prisoners, face employment discrimination afterwards, who’s going to do anything about it? Who’s responsible? Who’s going to help you heal?

Community arts organizations have a special kind of access to the core of traumatic life experiences. By teaching people to make art, and helping to make that art visible to a broad audience, these organizations can bypass the bureaucratic paper trail and allow ordinary people to tell what happened to them. The point of this art isn’t necessarily to see eye to eye, but to speak heart to heart.

This month, Beyondmedia Education, partnering with Chicago Legal Advocacy for Incarcerated Mothers (CLAIM), will host Voices in Time: Lives in Limbo at Las Manos Gallery in Andersonville. Voices in Time is a remarkable project that will include prisoners’ original art from across the country, an interactive multimedia installation re-creating a woman’s prison cell, a preview of a website on women’s incarceration, performances by former women prisoners and discussion panels covering such topics as race, parenting and re-entry.

Much of the art for Voices in Time has been generated through workshops in prisons, juvenile detention centers and halfway houses. Some work was produced after the former prisoners’ re-entry into the outside world. The art is evidence of the coping and healing process of life behind and after bars. And thus the responsibility of representing experience is laid on art.

Beyondmedia is a women-run media nonprofit organization unique in Chicago. Based in Rogers Park, its three staff members, and a rotating series of interns, work with communities in need of media education because of economic and/or social exclusion. The staff partners with community organizations and schools to teach women and youth to tell their stories through videos, websites, handbooks, graphic arts, performances and public education campaigns.

In October 2002, Beyondmedia presented 30 Days of Art and Education on Women’s Incarceration, the first version of the current Voices in Time project. 30 Days went on tour to five sites throughout Chicago and included a similar multimedia re-creation of the woman’s prison cell, along with performances and discussion panels. The popularity of 30 Days provided the incentive to re-present an updated and enlarged version to educate even more people and include more work from the people involved in advocating for women in prison.

Salome Chasnoff, the Executive Director of Beyondmedia, points out that “in many ways, doing time is a life sentence regardless of crime,” because prison affects prisoners not only by denying physical freedom, but also access to proper health care, employment after prison, and the ability to keep one’s family intact. An instructor on video and art education at SAIC in 1998-1999, Chasnoff has spent years considering how to use the media arts to connect people across race, gender and personal experience. She took some time to answer a few F interview questions by e-mail.

F: In what ways do you feel that American law and society is responsible or irresponsible in its treatment and attitudes towards women prisoners and former women prisoners?

C: Sentencing has become harsher even though women’s crime has not become more violent. Actually, more than 82 percent of women are incarcerated for non-violent offenses and arrests of women for murder and manslaughter have decreased 35.5 percent over the past ten years. Still, the percentage of women has more than doubled as a proportion of the population under correctional supervision. Taken together, these statistics don’t make sense, either from a humanitarian perspective or a legal perspective. Many families are destroyed by the incarceration of the mother. Another statistic: 72 percent of women in pre-trial detention in Cook County were African-American. Nationally, black women were more than eight times as likely as white women to be in prison in 1997.

F: Some might argue that those who are or have been imprisoned must bear responsibility for breaking the law. Through the same viewpoint, mothers who break the law are especially irresponsible in regards to their children. How might you counter this claim?

C: Most women in prison are there for crimes of poverty and drug-related offenses. Both childhood and adult histories of abuse are strongly correlated with drug use among women. The solution to addiction is treatment, not incarceration. More than 60 percent of women entering prison don’t have high school diplomas. Many are homeless sometime during the year preceding incarceration. Imprisonment is not the solution to effects of poverty. That’s something we’re all responsible for, not just those that suffer most from it.

F: In creating the Voices in Time project, what kinds of responsibilities did you feel, as an artist and activist?

C: I feel responsible for representing as accurately as possible the prison system from the perspective of women prisoners. That’s what the installation aims to do: recreate a prison cell through their eyes. I want viewers to enter their world and, to the extent that it is possible, identify with their pain, their hopes for the future: to see them as fully human and understand the urgent need for systemic and social change.

F: What, if anything, are you doing differently this time around with Voices in Time and why?

C: This year I’m including the voices of children because I think that’s an essential part of the story: how the imprisonment of all these women is affecting those they left behind. I’m also interviewing grandmothers, the women who are trying to take their place.

F: What are some examples of prisoners’ art that will be on display at the gallery?

C: You will see many different approaches to drawing, as most of the artists are working with very limited resources. You’ll also see painting, ceramic art, collage and appliqué, executed with widely ranging skill. And you’ll see the palpable presence of lived experience in the work. It’s very emotional.

F: A Beyondmedia website on Voices in Time will be available for preview at Las Manos prior to its April 1 launch. What are some of your hopes for the site? Who do you hope it will reach?

C: I envision it as a really fluid resource, where people will continually bring new work, creative and scholarly, and update links to online data. I want it to reach students and activists and anyone interested in the learning more about the issues surrounding the incarceration of women and girls, because education is the key to change, and we urgently need radical change because we are destroying countless families and ensuring another generation of prisoners.

F: The quilt on the bed in the installation incorporates writing from incarcerated teenage girls. What strikes you as unique about their experiences in and after the juvenile justice system?

C: Unique is a hard word. I don’t know about unique. I can say that what always strikes me when I’m there [at the Juvenile Detention Center] is that they are still children in many ways, needing what all children need—love, recognition, support, and advocacy. Most of them just want to go home to their moms. But the juvenile justice system is harsh and punitive, its discipline unpredictable—except in its discriminatory treatment of poor youth and youth of color.

F: What do you feel that art, in general, is responsible for? What is art’s job in this world?

C: The collective role of art in this world is to present the broadest range of images such that each individual has the opportunity to see her or his reflection somewhere in that mirror. Art is not simply a product of culture but, more accurately, an agency of culture, an important means through which culture re-negotiates itself. Art is a paradigm for meaningful action. Storytelling transforms life experience, like straw, into gold. As art, it offers a way to reconstitute subjectivity and promote communal healing. That’s what I do. I work to represent and create a more humane world, a place where I would like to live.

F: Looking back on the project, do you recall any moments you found particularly inspiring?

C: The father that flew in on the red eye from California to hand deliver his daughter’s ceramic pieces, only to turn around and go back home on the next flight, really moved me. It made me realize how important this event is for so many women inside who are getting the opportunity to speak publicly and connect with others on the outside through their art and writing. A woman who facilitates a workshop in Cook County Jail told me how proud and excited the women are. They’re hoping at least one of them gets out before the show is over to witness the event and report back. We take communication and connection for granted, as we should in a free society. But we can’t forget about those who aren’t free.

All events for Voices in Time: Lives in Limbo are free and open to the public. Opening night will be Friday, March 5, at 7:00 p.m. (reception at 6:00 p.m.) and the location for all the events will be Las Manos Gallery at 5220 N. Clark Street in Chicago. For gallery hours, call (773) 973-2280 or (773) 216-5556. To learn more about Beyondmedia Education, visit Beyondmedia Education . Women and Prison: A Site for Resistance will launch to the public on April 1, at Women and Prison.

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First Things First… Again

By Uncategorized

It seems that many people believe that all it really takes to be a graphic designer is a computer, some basic software, and a client. Graphic design is still a relatively new profession: the first textbook of graphic design, written by Phillip B. Meggs, was not published until 1983. Graphic design is considered by the U.S. Department of Labor to be a trade that does not require a degree or licensing of any kind for the practitioner to be considered a practicing professional. Despite the field’s lack of historic grandeur, graphic designers are in the business of creating a large and very influential part of the visual world that we all live in. Perhaps it is because of its newness and openness that it has so many demons to work out. It is a field that is constantly trying to define what it is and what it isn’t while still being painfully subject to fashion.

There are a tremendous number of people working in the industries of design and advertising, and they employ a remarkable amount of talent and intelligence—as well as an incredible number of bodies. Adding to this every year are the “tens of thousands” of students being trained to join this work force. This massive force of trained professionals, students and academics are engaged in creating the images that we all consume on a daily basis, and some have started to ask questions about their ethical responsibilities in performing that task, most notably with the reissue in 2000 of the First Things First Manifesto.

First Things First (FTF) was written by the British designer Ken Garland in 1963. The conditions that inspired Garland to write his manifesto were similar to those that inspired its reissue. A long period of economic stability had produced a thriving economic market that supported a large number of graphic designers. In essence, graphic design really became the graphic design profession during the late ’50s and early ’60s. However, alongside this economic stability was political upheaval, such as that instigated by the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement. What Ken Garland was giving voice to was the idea that designers need to dedicate their time and talents to issues beyond the promotion of commercial products, and that designers have the ability and even the responsibility to do much more.Garland initially announced his manifesto at London’s Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA) during a meeting of the Society of Industrial Artists (SIA). It was received excitedly, and several people added their signatures to the document. After Garland’s delivery of FTF at the ICA, he was invited to make a television appearance by the BBC to discuss the manifesto. This lead to the printing of the document in several prestigious design magazines such as Design, Ark and The Royal College of Art Magazine. The impact of Garland’s FTF can be seen not only by its enthusiastic reception at the SIA meeting by students, teachers and working professionals immediately willing to add their signatures to the document, but also through the escalation in exposure the manifesto was given from the time of its release. Interestingly, Garland lost only one client after appearing on television “wearing a leather jacket and an incendiary expression.” Apparently, even his clients thought the ideas in FTF were valid.

Is it time to change your media diet?

Four years later, Ken Garland gave another extremely important speech at the Vision 67 Design for Survival Conference in New York. Simply titled “Here Are Some Things We Must Do.” It was an inspiring and spirited fleshing out of the ideas of the manifesto. Garland listed four “survival tasks” that he saw as essential to the survival of design and the health of society, the most important being “that we make some attempt to identify, and to identify with, our real clients: the public. They may not be the ones who pay us, nor the ones who give us diplomas and degrees, but if they are to be the final recipients of the results of our work, they’re the ones who matter.”

So what happened? Why did the excitement and idealism stated so boldly in FTF fade out of common design discourse for thirty years only to be carried on by a select few? To name a few, designers like Sheila Levrant de Bretteville, Art Chantry, Marlene McCarty, Ed Fella and Martin Venezky have all maintained extremely high levels of craft and experimentation and expressed potent political ideologies—however, I believe that they are the exception and not the norm.

The late ’70s, ’80s and ’90s were relatively stable compared to the ’60s, but they saw their share of political and economic events that could have stimulated the design profession as a whole into discussions about design ethics. Perhaps what was keeping designers’ minds so occupied during that time period (particularly in the ’80s) was the advancement of computer technology. For all of us who were raised on computers, Photoshop is something that might be taken for granted, but it revolutionized the design business, process and thought. Many people have made the transition to computers successfully, and when one thinks of trailblazing designers of the digital realm, designers such as April Greiman most certainly come to mind.

Greiman’s book Something from Nothing expresses the passion that exists behind the early days of experimentation with computer technology. As technical restraints were removed and designers could have more freedom (within client constraints, of course), designers even started to ask, “What is the difference between art and design?” As designers started to liken themselves more and more to fine artists, it is my opinion that they started to lose sight of some of the most essential components of what design is and must be—it must communicate, it must be functional, and it must be worth making. “Initially, this work seemed genuinely innovative, but within a short space of time most of it was proved to be no more than stylistic imitation; typically, readers were asked to wade through long paragraphs of barely legible type that they quickly tired of. Even by the mid ’90s, this approach was already looking dated … Designers grew obsessed with innovation to the extent that their computers seemed to become more important than themselves.”

I want you to curb your consumptionEspecially with the development of the internet, websites and new media, the computer and its hold on the designer started to become unbearable. What was originally liberating became another constraint, as designers started to produce work exclusively on the computer. Many designers felt frustrated when they found themselves sitting behind a computer for ten hours a day as “pixel pushers,” when they felt that they were capable of so much more.

Thirty-six years after Ken Garland wrote First Things First, a new version was drafted by Chris Dixon and Kalle Lasn of Adbusters, with assistance from design critic and writer Rick Poynor. Dixon and Lasn were inspired to redraft the manifesto after they had paid a visit to designer Tibor Kalman, who upon seeing the original manifesto printed in Adbusters made a comment to them that they should do it again. They certainly followed through. Dixon and Lasn sought the help of Rudy Vanderlans of Emigre, and Max Bruinsma of Eye, as well as Rick Poynor to promote the manifesto and gain signatures from prominent designers and members of the design community. The manifesto was printed in seven key American design magazines and several other European magazines in the hopes of reaching as many members of the design community as possible.

Adbusters magazine took up the issue of FTF as one of their campaigns that fit in squarely with their other “culture jamming” topics such as “TV Turn-Off Day” or “Unbrand America.” After showing the autumn 1998 “Blueprint For A Revolution” issue of Adbusters to Tibor Kalman, which contained the re-issued 1963 FTF manifesto, and seeing how well he responded to it, Lasn and Dixon were inspired to take it further and created FTF 2000. The text of FTF 2000 (printed in Graphic Agitation as well as the aforementioned periodicals) differs from the original FTF in several ways, yet still has some fundamental similarities and common language.

To begin with, the people who signed the 1963 and the 2000 documents are fundamentally different. Many of the people who signed the original 1963 document were students, photographers and your average working-professional graphic designer. The signatories of FTF 2000 are some of the most famous designers, design critics, design educators, advertising executives and art directors working today. The effect of their signatures upon the document is critical, and gives the manifesto more gravity. Conversely, it is exactly who most of the people are that has left FTF 2000 open to so much criticism. However, I believe that the signatories used their status to its best advantage.

I sent out a questionnaire to several of the designers who signed FTF 2000, and when asked what one reason motivated them to sign the document more than anything else, most responded, as did Steven Heller, that it was a desire “to see some kind of activism rekindled.” Katherine McCoy made the comment that “it couldn’t hurt, and it was at least a sign that some designers had refocused on concerns that we had shared in the late ’60s and early ’70s.” From the comments I received and from the research I have done on this subject, I believe most of the signatories of FTF 2000 wanted design professionals to think more critically about what they are doing, and about the far-reaching effects of design and advertising. Both Katherine McCoy and Kalle Lasn felt that the 2003 AIGA conference in Vancouver, which focused on issues of sustainability, could be traced back to the influence of First Things First. To paraphrase comments made by Kalle Lasn during an interview: “AIGA conferences used to be about getting together and having a good time … in Vancouver, we discussed making meaning, not just form; specifically the interface between design and the environment.”

It is not just the profile of the individuals who signed the document that has gone up, but the sense of urgency and the severity of the message has dramatically increased in FTF 2000. Both Garland’s manifesto and the 2000 version share the concern that designers’ talents are wasted on “trivial purposes” which are constantly being “presented to them as the most lucrative, effective and desirable use of our talents.” However, in Garland’s manifesto, the reaction does not go beyond stating much other than that this is a waste of talent and the end products “contribute little” to society.

FTF 2000 makes the more alarming statement that it seems most designers and most of society have become extremely comfortable with this equation, and even let it define them. “Commercial work has always paid the bills, but many graphic designers have now let it become, in large measure, what graphic designers do. This, in turn, is how the world perceives design.” Not only does FTF 2000 make a statement of how current practices are disastrously affecting the profession of design, it goes on to express that the actions of the design profession are “supporting (and) endorsing a mental environment so saturated with commercial messages that it is changing the very way citizen-consumers speak, think, feel, respond, and interact.”

The welcome reception that First Things First received in 1963 was equally matched by the controversy that was stirred up by FTF 2000. Every magazine that printed it received both letters of anger and of praise, and the range of responses was dramatic. One letter that was printed in the editorial section of Adbusters said in regard to FTF: “Adbusters is nothing more than a decoration in the abodes of the design class, serving to announce their ‘awareness’ of what’s wrong with the world.”

In his article “First Things Next,” Rick Poynor notes that the manifesto was called “Pompous. Outdated. Cynically exploitative. Flawed. Rigid. Unimaginative. Pathetic. Like witnessing a group of eunuchs take a vow of chastity.” Still, others saw the manifesto as a call to action, and found it incredibly inspiring. “Your first things first manifesto gives me a great push. It’s good to know that there are more creatives out there who don’t accept the status quo.” Obviously many others share the same viewpoint as this young designer whose letter appeared in the Adbusters editorial section, since more than a thousand people have added their signature to the manifesto on the Adbusters web-site. But the people who are opposed to the manifesto are opposed to it vehemently.

In her article about the responses to FTF 2000, Carolyn McCarron cites “a small group of designers in England who even went so far as to write a manifesto against all future manifesto in the field, titled A Call to Arms Against Future Retro-Manifestos From the Disillu-sioned. They write, ‘Design is encased in capitalism, and even though there are many brownie points to be won for the individual through the creation of coffee-table books, high-brow exhibitions and niche magazines, this link will persist.’”

The Adbusters site with a thousand signatures of support and the “anti-manifesto manifesto” are examples of the two extremes in reactions to FTF 2000. But there is a lot of middle ground. Many designers don’t seem to feel that things are as dire as some of the signatories of FTF. Michael Beirut, the president of the AIGA, wrote an essay titled “A Manifesto With Ten Footnotes,” which is a statement that expresses all of the same concerns as the manifesto but does not stir up as much fire against the advertising profession. Beirut believes that simple, well-designed things are something that people deserve, and it is our duty as designers to do our best, while maintaining “common decency.”

He admits that we all have a right to be alarmed by the “idiotic claims of marketing mavens,” and that design is indeed a “potent tool” with which to fight those things. However, Beirut also believes that we all have a desire and even a right to have beautiful things in our lives. I don’t believe that there will ever be an end to advertising, or that we will ever be able to eliminate desire from a capitalistic society, but I do believe that we can incorporate a stronger sense of ethical responsibility into the profession of design.

Quite delightfully, in response to the question, “What are the roles and responsibilities of a designer in this day and age?” each of the signatories I wrote to responded that “being a good citizen” or “doing the best we can … and being active, engaged citizens” are essential. To quote Jessica Helfand, “It’s still a service business; we still need to honor craft and pay attention to details. And that can mean everything from good kerning to sustainable eco-systems. And should. But at the end of the day, if design is going to mean anything, it’s going to be because we think about and engage in the ideas affecting the world beyond our profession. Participating as thoughtful designers in the real world is our greatest challenge—but also, some might argue (I might argue!) our greatest opportunity.”

Discovering the range of reactions to First Things First 2000 and really researching the motivations that people gave for their statements made me evaluate my own values about design. When I first read FTF 2000, I jumped on the Adbusters bandwagon one hundred percent. I was ready to swear to never design anything but educational books for disadvantaged children, and in my spare time create anti-war posters. While I certainly haven’t changed my mind that these things are worthwhile pursuits, I have come around to the opinion that just about anything is worthwhile if you do it well, make it useful, beautiful, and produce it in a way that is both environmentally and ethically sound.

So how do we do this? It is probably best that we take the advice of Ken Garland and remember whom we are really working for. If we are going to produce designs of quality that having lasting value and significance to society, then we need to be more aware of what society needs. While graphic design will probably always remain subject to the whims of fashion in certain domains, it surely can create its own distinct codes of ethics by which all designers adhere and operate, which would only serve to better the craft and meet the needs of society.

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Students and Responsibility

By Arts & Culture

At a time when the art world seems to be shying away from so-called “political art,” (perhaps in favor of art with a capital “A”), some students at SAIC have answered by saying that life itself is art. And also that living life is in and of itself intrinsically political. Therefore, by going out into the community to affect social change and challenge the dominant cultural mind-set, these artists are creating a type of art.

So, who are these students and what are they doing? Daniel Tucker is a senior at SAIC. His self-described emphasis is a BFA in exhibition studies, space reclamation, and squashing haters and loving lovers. He has so many projects going on I wonder that he has time for classes amidst everything else. Tucker describes his project Version>04 invisibleNetworks as “designed to facilitate connections between activists and digital media makers from all over the city, country, and world. Events like this allow for groups that are involved in creative resistance projects to meet, bounce ideas off each other, show work, discuss and party.” According to the website the 2004 theme of invisibleNetworks “addresses the concepts, aesthetics, politics, technologies and systems of secrecy and visibility in contemporary cultures.”

Tucker’s other projects include The Journal of Aesthetics & Protest; discount cinema an organization that curates film and video programs throughout Chicago, hosts traveling programs and filmmakers, and like the name suggests, offers a sliding scale of $5 – $10; and the God Bless Graffiti Coalition, “a graffiti advocacy organization which wants to promote graffiti and fight graffiti abatement, like Mayor Daley’s graffiti blasters.” Retooling Dissent: Creative Resistance Projects at the World Economic Forum Protests is a video that Tucker has worked on and is now distributing. According to the website, this video documents “creative resistance projects from protests against the World Economic Forum.” On the website there are pictures of various projects and events like the spontaneous protests in Chicago against MTV’s The Real World and something called Daley Village, a cardboard housing project. All of these are efforts that take place out in the community. All of these projects are creative and, depending on your personal definition, could be called art.

Simon Spartalian, first year BA in Visual and Critical Studies is one of those people who would define what Daniel Tucker is doing as art. “I am really open with what I consider art,” Spartalian explains. “There are electron microscope images that I consider art. I walk outside and there are visual daily experiences that I consider art that are produced by the community in general without even knowing it.” Spartalian concedes, though, that “this is a very personal thing. I don’t think that many people would agree with me, although I think people would agree with me if I said that the movie Amélie presents life as art.” Tucker himself prefers the term “visual culture” as he is tired of the never ending “what is art?” question and debate. “‘Visual culture,’” he explains, “can prove to be a useful term for people interested in social change, as well as the aesthetics of everyday living and the built world.”

Simon Spartalian’s major on-going project, which is his art-in-the-world/visual culture, is summed up in an organization called the Vermont Separatist Alliance (VSA). Spartalian, who hails from Burlington, Vermont, has created the VSA and also the anti-VSA, which is run by the fictional Gunnery Sergeant Retired Bill Bradley and his three-legged dog, Tripod. Both organizations have followers and have created commotion in Burlington. The whole thing, though, is an experiment, or art. It’s a creation, and at some point in the future Spartalian will reveal it as such. For now, though, it’s still his work-in-progress.

Spartalian’s more recent project is a mobile art gallery. He’s currently working to develop a six-foot-by-six-foot wall on wheels which would show two exhibitions simultaneously; one on each side of the wall. He has hopes of this becoming a student group in the future. “Our community is really insular,” he says, “it’s our responsibility as artists to engage the community. I think there’s a reluctance to do that because it seems there’s a question: is that really our agenda? Should we make that our agenda? But you don’t see stage performers asking if it’s their agenda to put on a play. It’s what you do. It’s your job. And I feel that engaging the community in a visual sense is our job.” Spartalian hopes that with this mobile gallery he can break down some of the actual and metaphorical walls of the traditional art gallery by taking this out into the public space. He wants to rig a generator to a bicycle and by human pedal power light his gallery, furthering its performance aspect. “I really do believe it’s my responsibility to engage the community,” Spartalian states, and his mobile gallery is “intrinsically public. It’s a gallery that is made to be put in the public’s face.”

And so the boundaries continue to blur…art, visual culture, theater, political activism, social change. Travis Culley is a first year MFA in Writing student who previously completed a BFA in theater. Although Culley told me that he disagrees with Spartalian’s statement that life is art (“I guess, to me, art is a statement of value, and everything cannot have value. When I look out the window and experience beauty, I credit that experience to the genius of simply being human.”), he does refer to the street as theater. When he talks of Critical Mass, a bike activist event in cities across the world that happens the last Friday of every month (in Chicago meet at Daley Plaza, 50 W. Washington at 5:30 p.m., ride at 6 p.m.) he admits that “it involves rather elaborate theatrics. Accomplishing these sorts of theatrics is a way of amplifying the voice of that political will. The theatrics of the street are decided by all, and so the beauty of the event is not contrived by sole authors and singular visions. The street is a co-op, you can add anything you’d like to it.”

While Culley may not call his activism art, he does seem comfortable calling it theater. And his stage definitely seems to be the street and perhaps his bicycle is his main prop. In his book The Immortal Class: Bike Messengers and the Cult of Human Power, Culley describes riding his bike to work at an art gallery initially as a way to conserve funds, yet by riding he becomes intimately involved with and enamored of the street: “When I arrived at an art gallery filled with these images [of the streets], I would always wonder, Which was the more honest arena? The street? Or the exhibition? And which was the more profound? The street, of course, the street, in almost every case.” All of this leads to the idea that, once again, despite the apparent shying away from the political nature of the art world “out there,” for some people art and life are inherently political. As Michael Kiser, a MFA in Writing student, explains, politics cannot be escaped by artists, writers, or anyone else. This is because he defines politics as simply being a citizen. As a citizen, he says, “It seems to me it would be impossible to not be at least somewhat aware.” You’re aware of the facts of your daily life and simply by being aware of these facets of how you live and making choices you are engaging in politics. He explains, “We all have to play the game somehow, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be the meaningless way that we associate it with.” In the simplest sense, he says that “in writing, as well as the visual arts, there is a sense of politics in that you’re always communicating with other writing, with other artwork.”

And if politics are inescapable and life and art are intertwined, what does this mean to the student artist at SAIC? Is there a responsibility involved in being an artist? Well, yes, and no. “Artists are citizens, too,” sums up Mary Patten, professor in the Film, Video, and New Media Department, “and thus have no more or less ‘social responsibility’ than anyone else. However, artists, writers, or anyone claiming to be an intellectual or critical thinker have a responsibility to foster complexity of thinking and feeling.” And, then, what responsibilities might that put on the instructors at an art school such as SAIC? Mary answers, “While, of course, I believe that I and other faculty who are committed to social change have a responsibility to creatively translate those politics into useful pedagogies, it is every generation’s responsibility to autonomously sort out what needs to be done, thought, challenged. We’re counting on you all to not just ‘keep on,’ but to enrich and complicate the mix.”

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Serving Up Responsibility

By Arts & Culture

Everything is politics these days. You can’t turn on a little reality television without hearing about the elections, the wars, and the starving on the streets of Chicago. If it isn’t enough to get you to a rally, it is probably enough to get you thinking.

What is the place of art in such a world? And, what is the responsibility of the artist? It is a question as old as art. Artists have always played a dual role. We view them outside of culture, radical and untouchable, giving us glimpses of a future to embrace or fear. On the other hand, they also play a role in determining our culture, in creating the language and the images by which we understand our very existence.

The volatile relationship between art and social change is one of the most powerful forces that defined modernism—a fact to be acknowledged, somehow, by any artist who strives for relevance in the 21st century. The 20th century birthed two of its most visually arresting movements with a revolutionary purpose, the Russian and the German avant-garde. While later, on the other side of the Atlantic, the intense individualism of American Expressionism was borne of artists that were convinced of their purpose as social beings. Other artists, such as Diego Rivera and Picasso, fused the notion of aesthetics and political commentary into one. Rivera’s murals depicted the effects of society under capitalism, and Picasso’s famous “Guernica,” which involves the narrative of a bombed city in the Basque region during the Spanish Civil War, not only provided art with a meaning and context, but was also a masterpiece in and of itself. Now, artists of every genre strive to understand the legacies of the past generation as they work to create their own. And, “no matter what decisions we make concerning subject matter and form, the question of how our work relates to, responds to, and ultimately influences the world, is central to the thinking of any serious artist,” explains Richard Deutsch, Adjunct Assistant Professor in Painting and Drawing at SAIC.

The nature of art and the artist

Understanding the role of the artist within society can be daunting. Who cares whether an artist is socially responsible? Carol Becker, the Dean of Faculty and Vice President of Academic Affairs, maintains that at the heart of the question lies the common thread of humanity. “You don’t set out to be socially responsible, you just care about the world. And as you care about the world, and as you think about the world, and as you engage with the world, that becomes part of everything you do—including art-making.” In her book, Surpassing the Spectacle, Becker argues that the artist is in a unique position to change society, to become a “public intellectual.”

Mary Jane Jacob, Adjunct Assistant Professor of Sculpture and independent curator, wishes artists could be more socially responsible. “Wow! Some artists want to be catalysts for social change. I want them to be but I rarely see that happen…if ever. What does happen, over and over and in ways we can’t be fully conscious of but have to trust in, is that artworks change people’s minds, perceptions, who they are and maybe their actions. One way this can occur is when a work triggers a new way of thinking.” Jacob goes on to explain, “This can happen immediately or, powerfully, over time, long after the actual visual experience of the work of art, when one’s mind gravitates back to a work that may not have made an impression at first, or maybe elicited a negative response but it stuck with you.”

Not every artist believes that there is a role for artists in social change. Marion Kryczka, Adjunct Associate Professor of Painting and Drawing, says that the possibility of an artist enacting social change or reform is nullified by the fact that “in our society as well as in most of the developed world, the product of contemporary artists is ignored or even scorned.” Similarly, Suzanne Doremus, a Professor of Painting and Drawing and Graduate Division Chair, when asked whether artists are ever catalysts for social change, replied: “Almost never.” Kryczka does say that, while “an artist has responsibility to the excellence and depth of one’s work, one is inescapably linked to the society he lives in,” and the work an artist creates is “a product of where the culture is at any given time.”

Lisa Wainwright, the Graduate Dean, addresses this point by emphasizing the current state of general political apathy and its presence in the trends of pluralist attitudes among many of today’s artists. Wainwright also highlights the possible responsibility associated with making a mark on a canvas, which will be potentially seen by a multitude of people, and the power that comes with allowing the general public to see creative thinking in the context of freedom of expression.

Does all artwork become political by nature just by being presented in public or must it have expressly political themes? Becker believes that either situation makes a work of art socially relevant. “Whether you were deliberately trying to be an activist or not, if you put out ideas which shake up the way in which society understands itself—you have created a dialogue with society.”

According to Becker, this dialogue between artist and society makes itself apparent in many ways. Whether in the form of color, line, content, or concepts, in whatever form “art” makes itself available, it has the power to heal, to change, to make better. By stirring our imagination, art gives society an “energizing force.” It has the potential to stimulate society, to make it understandable to us and to others.

The artist has the power to use artwork as the medium through which to engage the viewer in an experience of society and culture. In so doing, Jacob says that the role of the artist in social change is “to provoke a question, clarify a need, and give hope that change is possible by making something evident that we didn’t see in our everyday experience, to create experiences by which we can think about change. This is really important. It doesn’t have to be a systemic, programmatic project (like a youth development program or permanent public work). It does have to be insightful…or even more importantly allow other people’s insights to come to the surface and be ‘daylighted.’”

The contexts that shape art

Matthew Goulish, Adjunct Associate Professor of Liberal Arts and Writing and accomplished performance artist, reminds us that the question of an artist’s social responsibility itself presupposes a certain way of looking at life. He elaborates, “It’s not a matter of having an impulse to do something creative and then asking if I have a social responsibility. The impulse to be creative is an encounter with the unknown, with a problem.” He explains, “Something intervenes in your life and creativity is the only response for processing that trouble. That troubling intervention assumes a kind of social context. In some ways it’s more of a responsibility, this responsibility of engagement to creativity, to stay in the proximity of that initiating disruption.”

Context plays a key role in understanding why certain art forms are created at particular times. Nicholas Lowe, professor in the Arts Administration department, believes in the power of art’s relation to a “context,” be it political, social, or otherwise. Lowe witnessed an unprecedented surge of community action in the gay community of London in the late ’80s. At the time, the representation of the gay community was at an all-time low in part due to “Clause 28,” which had art funding withdrawn from exhibitions that displayed art works that revolved around issues of sexual identity. Much like the National Endowment of the Arts (NEA) controversy in the early ’90s, “Clause 28” provoked the gay community into action. Even Lowe’s own work, “(Safe) Sex Explained No. 3,” was subsequently censored due to “Clause 28.” In order to fill the void, artists began creating “positive images” for their community and, according to Lowe, the community “gained an understanding of responsibility for one’s actions, and the responsibility for [the] images being made.”

The public arena is where discussion begins to surround a work of art. It is where, deliberately or un-deliberately, contexts get formed. The power of art, regardless of whether it is in the form of pure formalism or overt political themes, lies in how society understands what to make of it. “At that moment, at that juncture, where something is made visible in society,” Becker explains, “then they [artists] actually are functioning in a role which they might not even be thinking of deliberately.

Art as social change material

Artists also deliberately go into the public arena and work with communities to provide social change directly. In 1993, Jacob curated Culture in Action: Sculpture Chicago, a site-specific arts project that fused artists with various community organizations. The intent of the project was to bridge art with life, and the results were as artistically varied as they were functional. Projects such as “Flood,” which brought together the artist collaborative Haha, HIV/AIDS organizations, and the community at large to create a hydroponic garden to provide organic foods to those living with AIDS; and “Street Level Video,” a project initiated by artist Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle to counteract misrepresentations of youth in the West Side of Chicago, and their everyday struggles with drugs, gangs, and crime. Both projects outlasted the time frame of the curatorial concept itself by several years, incorporating themselves within the community to provide an artistic outlet within social realty.

Jacob maintains that artworks make “you see something differently and art plays a critical role in changing your perception of a situation—you have changed—and your change is part of a social change.” She continues, “The artist can make a change through the way they see and are; and this can happen even without making an art work.”

Mary Patten, a political activist, artist, and Assistant Professor in the Film Video and New Media Department, combines her work as an artist and a professor with her work with political prisoners, prison issues, state repression, AIDS, queer activism, and explains that her art work, “while driven by deeply-felt political ideas, is also fueled by a desire to address the contradictory worlds of politics and art-making.”

With the media coverage that came during the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and “the war on terrorism,” we are reminded of the potential impact of images and art. There is always someone who will argue with the way an image is used. Reporters and photographers were blamed for sanitizing their coverage of the war, not revealing the particularly brutal scenes of death and destruction that were part of war itself. At the same time, gruesome images of dead children or destroyed villages were criticized for their sensationalism. Patten says, “The instant one takes a ‘stand’ on something—[like] the war in Iraq, the global AIDS crisis, the occupation in the West Bank and Gaza, the crisis of democracy inside the U.S.—one begins to engage in simple, even blunt forms of address, for instance, ‘no blood for oil,’ to create a clear media image/language/rhetoric.”

The politically conscious artist is left to grapple with difficult and complex issues that need swift responses and clever sound-bites. “Some of us worry that ‘art’ is too much of a floating signifier, that it can be co-opted and deployed and marketed to fit all kinds of terrible agendas. But calls for certain kinds of art, and not others, only lead to prescriptions and repressions. The free play of imagination is worth the risk,” Patten warns.

A particular trend that Suzanne Doremus observed among painting students, especially after the events of 9/11, was the increase in the amount of attention devoted to materials and mediums involved in the process of making a mark on the canvas, as well as the increased internalization of subject matter. Personal work, as opposed to more theoretically based art, she says, is becoming more prominent among SAIC’s students—the position of artist as a conduit for the pain and experience of others is becoming more common.

Patten says, “Let’s resist the idea that art is either a weapon or a luxury. Art and art-making is both useless and necessary.” The fact that we can even ask the question is profound. Patten tells us that our politics will shape what we see and feel, but lets hope that “other pictures have meaning, too, besides our own: refugees, permanent nomads, starving on some border. Let’s ask what we can do to change that picture.”

Matthew Goulish further reminds us that whether in art or other aspects of life, “You never have an either-or choice.” He explains, “Binaries are never true.” For instance, you can look at the way language itself is employed. And ask what “about language is complacent in this statement.” In other words, some artists respond to social or political issues by looking at the very medium of their art. As a writer, you might begin to look at the way language itself is used. This is the way you get into poetics, by proposing a different use of language.

Goulish explains that as an artist “the social responsibility arises in letting myself be troubled by [a social issue]. Once I let myself be troubled by it, then it will embed its way into my creative process.” He also phrased it like this, “The responsibility is to program your passions. And then be true to the craft of your art.” The power of the artist is that he/she “can unfix what we see as a problem and how we perceive it and what constitutes a helpful response.” The power of an artist as a catalyst for social change is not only that they can reflect back to us the problems of society, but that they can recreate that very society’s understanding of how to see and heal its problems.

The potential for the artist to create social change can sometimes be undermined by the art-world itself. According to Becker, the power of artists is enormous, but at the same time “artists aren’t really encouraged to be powerful in the world. I think it’s a big plot to keep artists insignificant and disempowered. It’s much easier to let art be relegated to a small arena of aesthetic-ness, that the goal to success [for the artist] is in the art-world, which is a small world,” By keeping artists within the small framework known as the “artworld,” the possibility of change within society becomes rather small. Becker contends that artists are told to stay within the confines of the “artworld” in order to remain in place, so as not to create change within society. “Art can do many, many things, but if artists don’t know that they have the potential to be powerful, and they think what’s powerful is to be outside of society completely, if that mythology is perpetuated then you’ve disempowered artists, and you’ve disempowered their ability to affect society.”

The responsibility of an art school

Affecting society requires knowledge of both artistic skills and the world at large. Without both of these two skills, art would not achieve its goals of reaching the public. The historical context of art and its role in the education of artists, is a topic that cuts to the heart of the responsibility of an art school.

Most instructors interviewed believed it was important “to educate not only a skilled artist, but also a citizen, to give a young person the tools to make a conscious choice about the role one’s political views play in the creative process.” Goulish explains that it is a “big responsibility of the institution to teach people how to pay attention. Learning how to be a good painter is learning how to pay attention to the visual, a writer to language and structure of language.”

If you learn how to see the world, then other things will follow. Becker believes that Americans “get all confused by this stuff, and art schools have perpetuated that confusion. If you talk about art and social responsibility, or art as political, what people hear is “should.” Art ‘should be political,’ or art ‘should have content.’ I don’t really know what artists should do. I just know what artists have done, what they do now, and what they could do. I’m a writer, so I don’t presume to know what artists should do. But I think there is a spectrum of art making—all of which is valid, and only some of which is validated by a pedagogical method. Everyone wants to act as if the making [of art] could be completely separate from history and society, and I don’t think that’s possible for any action.”

Jacob also asserts that art schools need to provide a means to understand the nature of socially responsible art. “Yes! It needs to be part of the school’s mission and curriculum so that it is an option for artists, so artists can take their art ideas and art making into this realm at some point, if only as a part of their practice. YES, because artists who work in other ways need to be open to and not damning of other artists who work for social change through their art and ideas—and they need to realize that their art (no matter what genre it is) can be a powerful social and personal tool, too—so making art has a responsibility. And YES, because art can enlarge people’s perceptions—make them open to change—in an uncommon way, so we need art, we need this tool, to be present and functioning in society.”

Ultimately, the responsibility of the artist is a question that every artist who displays art for the public faces, whether directly or not. As artists we can desire to have nothing to do with politics. But art doesn’t just live in art schools and museums, art is a powerful medium with the potential to reflect society’s greatest aspirations and most horrifying flaws, with the ability to help us forget our pain and understand beauty in a new light, and even the ability to get a group of people to redefine their social relationships and expectations. Artists have the power to change the status quo by creating images that people respond to strongly. As Carol Becker reminds us, “Every action has a consequence. Every action, everything we do, exists in a historical context. Whether we want to acknowledge that or not—it does. The more deliberate we are at certain moments, [the more] we can affect history.”

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