After the tour of Knowth, our little group of eight-ish piled into the van and headed back to the rendezvous lot, where we would transfer to another vehicle bound for Newgrange. While the group to Knowth hardly filled a fourth of the van that carried us there, the group to Newgrange could barely fit into two of the same large buses. This disparity in popularity is emblematic of the sites’ relative fame. Between its gleaming wall of quartz and re-enactment of the winter solstice, Newgrange nearly sparkles with tourist readiness and appeal, but loses the intimacy and relative freedom offered by its older neighbor.
Reconstructed quartz and granite retaining wall, Newgrange
The site consists of a solitary great mound, although smaller satellite graves are visible in the fields across the road.
Small satellite mounds across the road from Newgrange
Unlike the primary mounds at both Knowth and Dowth, the tomb at Newgrange contains just one chambered passage, which visitors may enter as part of a guided group. Photography is not allowed inside the tomb, but professional images are readily available on the web, including World Heritage Ireland’s official website.
Newgrange’s interior provides a sense of what the similarly chambered “female” passage at Knowth must have looked like before later changes made it largely impassible. The long narrow tunnel is lined with decorated slate standing stones and opens into a wider room bordered by three niches which once contained cremated remains and burial offerings. The original corbelled ceiling stands intact at a height of about 20 feet.
Entrance to the Newgrange passage with decorated kerbstone and roof box
But perhaps Newgrange’s most impressive feature is the play of light that occurs on the winter solstice. From outside, a second, smaller opening is visible above the entrance. Due to the gradual upward slope of the interior passage, this same opening is actually parallel to the floor of the chambered room. Normally this relationship is imperceptible, and the chamber—at least when empty of tourists—remains pitch black. However, for a few days around the winter solstice a beam of light finds its way through the upper passage and falls across the northern niche, lighting the room for a few brief minutes at sunrise. The site offers a lottery each year to allow a small number of visitors the opportunity to experience this phenomenon in person. For those of us not lucky enough to be among the chosen, the tour recreates an abbreviated but still impressive version using artificial light.
Decorated kerbstones, Newgrange
Outside, Newgrange offers a small number of intricately decorated and well-preserved kerbstones. Chief among these is the impressive (and well photographed) entrance stone. Entrance stones are common features of passage tombs, and tend to be large enough to make entry difficult but not impossible. They were probably intended to demarcate the boundary of the tomb, signifying the divide between the dead and the living, the sacred and the profane.
View of Knowth
All photographs by Renée DeVoe Mertz, May 24, 2013, unless otherwise stated.
Knowth, Brú na Bóinne, County Meath, Ireland. Panorama by Joshua Albers, May 24, 2013.
At the end of May, Josh and I took an eight day trip to Ireland. We emerged, windswept and damp, with over 5,000 photographs, which I have since whittled down to more reasonable, post-sized selections.
The art and history of Ireland are outside my particular expertise, so the information included in these posts has been culled from guidebooks (DK and Lonely Planet), related websites, our many lovely guides, and a variety of materials provided at the sites themselves.
Passage tombs at Knowth
Our first day outside of Dublin began at Brú na Bóinne, one of the island’s three UNESCO World Heritage Sites. The valley of Brú na Bóinne contains three Neolithic centers—Knowth, Newgrange, and Dowth—each of which possesses a great mound (large passage tomb) and smaller satellite graves. Only Knowth and Newgrange are open to visitors, and these are only accessible through tours provided by the visitor center. Such stringent oversight is unusual in Ireland, but it allows for better preservation of these important, fragile monuments.
Decorated kerbstones at KnowthSatellite tomb at Knowth
Knowth is the first stop for those who choose to visit both open sites. Of the three centers, Knowth is the oldest, was utilized for the longest period of time (up to about 1400), and is arguably the most complex.
Knowth’s great mound possesses two entrances (referred to as the “male”/western and “female”/eastern chambers due to their relative shapes), but visitors can only go into a contemporary passage and small exhibition space near the less impressive western passage. Chunks of white quartz and dark, rounded granite are scattered on the ground around both entrances of Knowth, while the same kinds of stones have been reconstructed into supporting walls at Newgrange. This discrepancy is probably more reflective of changes in archaeological practices and philosophy towards reconstruction than a difference in original use and placement at the two mounds.
Entrance to the recently built exhibition space by the western, “male” passage at KnowthInside the western passage at Knowth. Photo by Joshua Albers, May 24, 2013.Entrance to the eastern, “female” passage at Knowth. Photo by Joshua Albers, May 24, 2013.
More importantly, Knowth boasts the largest collection of Megalithic art in Europe, most of which is still in-situ. A good sampling can be found on the slabs, or kerbstones, around the base of the central mound, although much of what exists is located in the primary but inaccessible “female” chamber.
Decorated kerbstones around the primary mound at Knowth
Knowth also differs from Newgrange in that the site includes a number of smaller satellite passage tombs clustered closely around the central mound.
Satellite and primary tombs, Knowth
Inside the entrance to one of several small passage tombs at Knowth (visible concrete added as part of reconstruction)Satellite tomb overlooking the Boyne Valley, Knowth
Although all passage graves contain cremated human remains, it is likely that the great tombs also had additional, ritualistic functions, as suggested by the fact that their passages were tall enough for people to walk through, and each was lit at either a solstice or equinox.
Knowth and Newgrange were also once sites of woodhenges (reconstructed at Knowth), which post-date the mounds by several centuries. Like the large passages, these henges were arranged to correspond to significant dates in the year’s cycle.
Reconstruction of the woodhenge at Knowth
At both sites, archaeological reconstruction was aided by kerbstones which ring the bottom of most passage tombs; similar large stones line the interior passageways of the primary mounds. Abstract imagery—particularly spirals, circles, and undulating lines—has been engraved into the surfaces of over a hundred of the boulders. It is unclear what, if anything, these “symbols” represent, although they may depict aspects of the landscape, particularly the sun, rivers, hills, and even the mounds themselves.
Decorated kerbstones around the primary mound at Knowth
Stairs climbing the great mound, Knowth Wind-whipped Josh on Knowth’s great moundView of the Boyne Valley from the top of Knowth’s great passage tomb
All photos by Renée DeVoe Mertz, May 24, 2013, unless otherwise noted.
Sweeper in the Forbidden CityLotus at the Summer Palace, BeijingTea in BeijingHuang Binyan, Rabbit (after Jeff Koons), 2004, at Zhong Fang Jiao Gallery in the 798 Art District, BeijingYan Pei-Ming, Landscape of Childhood, displayed at UCCA in the 798 Art DistrictVendor and stall at the Night Market in BeijingCrabs at the Night Market
Vajrabhairava, 1368–1644, National Art Museum, BeijingBoju Li, Western Zhou Dynasty, National Art MuseumCave 7 or 8, Yungang Caves, Datong (Northern Wei)Cave 10, Yungang Caves, Datong (Northern Wei)Yungang Caves
Nine Dragon Screen [detail], DatongHanging Temple, DatongEntrance to the Hanging TempleConfucian statue at the Hanging TempleTerracotta soldiers from the Qin Shi Huangdi necropolis, Xi’anTerracotta figure of a high ranking officer from the Qin Shi Huangdi necropolisFolk art vendors near the Qianling Tomb
One of several giant statues in the Famen Temple complex
Roof detail at the Great Mosque, Xi’an
The Great Mosque, Xi’anCricket cages outside a store in the Muslim Quarter, Xi’anBird cages in the Muslim QuarterTrinket stall with baby booties“Golden Monster” at the Shaanxi History Museum, Xi’anZhuang village of Ping AnLongji rice terracesIn the hills around Ping An
Bamboo near Ping An
“Minority village” near Longsheng
Merchants on the Li RiverWater buffalo along the Li RiverCormorant fisherman in YangshuoYangshuoKarst formations and fields in Yangshuo
Henri Matisse, The Serf (1900-04) in front of Bathers by a River (1909–10, 1913, 1916–17)
Pablo Picasso, Half-Length Female Nude [detail], 1906Amedeo Modigliani, Jacques and Berthe Lipchitz [detail of Berthe], 1916
Amadeo de Souza Cardoso, The Leap of the Rabbit, 1911Maurice de Vlaminck, Houses at Chatou, c. 1905Alexei Jawlensky, Girl with the Green Face, 1910Henri Matisse, Woman Leaning on Her Hands, 1905Pablo Picasso, Head of a Woman (Fernande), autumn 1909Pablo Picasso, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, autumn 1910Gino Severini, Festival in Montmarte, 1913
Jacques Lipchitz, Seated Figure [detail], 1917Alberto Giacometti, Diego Seated in the Studio [detail], 1950Alberto Giacometti, Walking Man II [detail], 1960
Theo van Doesburg, Counter-Composition VIII, 1924Marc Chagall, The Praying Jew, 1923 (after a 1914 composition)Henri Matisse, Lorette with Cup of Coffee [detail], 1916–17Constantin Brâncusi, Sleeping Muse, 1910Giorgio de Chirico, The Philosopher’s Conquest, 1913–14Marcel Duchamp, Hat Rack, 1964 (1916 original now lost)Hans Bellmer, Untitled, 1951Pablo Picasso, The Old Guitarist, 1903–04Constantin Brâncusi, Suffering, 1907Juan Gris, Portrait of Pablo Picasso, 1912Constantin Brâncusi, Two Penguins, 1911–14Pablo Picasso, Abstraction: Background with Blue Cloudy Sky, 1930
Emil Nolde, Red-Haired Girl, 1919Victor Brauner, Gemini, 1938Henri Matisse, Girl in Yellow and Blue with Guitar, 1939Pablo Picasso, Mother and Child, 1921
Henri Matisse, Woman before an Aquarium [detail], 1921–23Giorgio de Chirico, The Eventuality of Destiny [detail], 1927
Constantin Brâncusi, White Negress II (1928), Leda (c. 1920), and Golden Bird (1919/20, base c. 1922)Yves Tanguy, The Rapidity of Sleep [detail], 1945Paul Klee, Sunset, 1930Joan Miró, Woman [detail], 1934Gino Severini, Still Life (Centrifugal Expansion of Colors), 1916Lyonel Feininger, Longeuil, Normandie, 1909Alberto Giacometti, Spoon Woman, 1926–27Pavel Tchelitchew, Untitled, 1948Georges Rouault, The Dwarf, 1937Aleksei Alekseevich Morgunov, Portrait of Nathalija Gontcharova and Mihajl Larionov [detail of Gontcharova], 1913Arshile Gorky, The Plough and the Song (II), 1946
Ludwig Meidner, Max Herrmann-Neisse [detail], 1913Le Corbusier, Untitled [detail], 1932
Jean (Hans) Arp, Growth (1938/60) in front of Joan Miró’s The Policeman (1925)Leonora Carrington, Juan Soriano de Lacandón [detail], 1964John D. Graham, Untitled, 1945
Max Beckmann, Self-Portrait [detail], 1937John D. Graham, Apotheosis [detail], 1955-57Matta, The Earth Is a Man [detail], 1942Joan Miró, Two Personages in Love with a Woman [detail of woman], 1936Matta, Untitled (Flying People Eaters) [detail], 1942Salvador Dalí, Venus de Milo with Drawers [detail], 1936Pablo Picasso, The Red Armchair [detail], 1931
Victor Brauner, Acolo, 1949John D. Graham, Untitled, 1944Alberto Giacometti, Head, 1934Yves Tanguy, Untitled, 1928Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Forgotten Game), c. 1949Salvador Dalí, A Chemist Lifting with Extreme Precaution the Cuticle of a Grand Piano [detail], 1936Victor Brauner, Turning Point of Thirst, 1934Salvador Dalí, Portrait of Gala with Two Lamb Chops in Equilibrium upon Her Shoulder, 1934Surrealist gallery with René Magritte’s The Banquet (1958) and a wall of Cornell boxes.
All photos by author. Paintings shown without frames are cropped to varying degrees. Photographs showing only a small portion (half or less) of the original objects are listed as details.
Vessel in the Form of a Seated Ruler with a Pampas Cat, ceramic and pigment, 250/550 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruBowl Depicting a Mask (Possibly a Katchina), above an Abstract Bighorn-Sheep Head, ceramic and pigment, 1300/1400 CE, Four Mile Polychrome, White Mountain Redware; Cibola region, east-central Arizona, United StatesFigure of a Woman in Ceremonial Dress, ceramic, 700/900 CE, possibly Totonac, Nopiloa; Veracruz, south-central Gulf Coast, MexicoSeated Joined Couple, ceramic and pigment, 200 BCE/300 CE, Nayarit; Nayarit, MexicoMiniature Mask, wood, gold foil, shell, pigment, and resin, 1300/1400 CE, possibly Mixtec; possibly northern Oaxaca, MexicoStanding Figurine with Missing Leg, jade, 800/400 BCE, Olmec; Guerrero, MexicoVessel Depicting a Mythological Scene, ceramic and pigment, 600/800 CE, Late Classic Maya; Petén region, GuatemalaPortrait Vessel of a Ruler, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruHead Fragments from Large Ceremonial Jars, ceramic and pigment, 700/800 CE, Tiwanaku-Wari; Pacheco, south coast, PeruHieroglyphic Panel, limestone, 650/800 CE, Late Classic Maya; Usumacinta River area, Mexico or GuatemalaStoryteller Figure, ceramic and pigment, 100/800 CE, Jalisco; Ameca Valley, Jalisco, MexicoVase of Seven Gods, Ah Maxam (active mid-late 8th century), ceramic and pigment, 750/800 CE, Late Classic Maya; vicinity of Naranjo, Petén region, GuatemalaBowl Depicting a Hero-Hunter with a Heron Headdress, Bow, and Arrows, along with a Rabbit Hunter; ceramic and pigment (Classic Mimbres Black-on-white); Mimbres branch of the Mogollon; New Mexico, United StatesMosaic Disk with a Mythological and Historical Scene, turquoise, shell, and sandstone, 1400/1500 CE, Mixtec; Northern Oaxaca, MexicoMask from an Incense Burner Portraying the Old Deity of Fire, ceramic and pigment, 450/750 CE, Teotihuacan; Teotihuacan, MexicoBallcourt Panel, limestone, 700/800 CE, Late Classic Maya; possibly La Corona, Usumacinta River area, GuatemalaFigurine of an Aristocratic Lady, ceramic and pigment, 650/800 CE, Late Classic Maya, Jaina; Campeche or Yucatán, MexicoVessel of the Dancing Lords, Ah Maxam (active mid-late 8th century), ceramic and pigment, 750/800 CE, Late Classic Maya; vicinity of Naranjo, Petén region, GuatemalaRitual Impersonator of the Deity Xipe Totec, ceramic and pigment, 1450/1500 CE, Aztec; possibly central Veracruz, MexicoFemale Figurine, ceramic and pigment, 500/400 BCE, Tlatilco; Tlatilco, Valley of Mexico, MexicoVessels, ceramic and pigment, Late Classic Maya, Mexico or GuatemalaStela, limestone, 702 CE, Late Classic Maya; vicinity of Calakmul, Campeche or Quintana Roo, MexicoJar in the Form of a Standing Figure, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruFemale Effigy, terracotta and pigmented slip, 200/100 BCE, Chupícuaro; Guanajuato or Michoacán, MexicoStanding Male Figure, ceramic and pigment, 650/800 CE, Late Classic Maya, Jaina; Campeche or Yucatán, MexicoPendant in the Form of a Figure, shell stone, silver, copper, and cotton, 400/800 CE, Tiwanaku-Wari; coastal Peru or highland BoliviaCarved Vessel Depicting a Lord Wearing a Water-Lily Headdress, ceramic and pigment, 600/800 CE, Late Classic Maya, Chocholá; Yucatán or Campeche, MexicoPortrait Vessel of a Young Man with a Scarred Lip, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruBowl Depicting a Harvest Dance, ceramic and pigment, 180 BCE/500 CE, Nazca; South coast, PeruPortrait Vessel of a Man with a Cleft Lip and Tattoos, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruPedestal Bowl, ceramic and pigment, 1100/1300 CE, Coclé; possibly La Peña, Veraguas province, PanamaVessel Depicting a Prisoner with Avian Captors, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruVessel in the Form of a Llama, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; Chimbote, Santa Valley, PeruPortrait Vessel of a Ruler, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruRattle in the Form of a Mythological Figure, ceramic and pigment, 650/800 CE, Late Classic Maya, Jaina; Campeche or Yucatán, MexicoVessel in the Form of a Royal Messenger, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruFigure of a Standing Warrior, ceramic with pigment, 650/800 CE, Late Classic Maya, Jaina; Campeche or Yucatán, MexicoVessel in the Form of a Courtly Musician, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, PeruVessel in the Form of a Warrior, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; Chimbote, Santa Valley, north coast, PeruDrinking Cup (Kero) with an Abstracted Masked Figure, ceramic and pigment, 600/1000 CE, Tiwanaku-Wari, Bolivia or PeruBowl Depicting a Swarm of Mice, ceramic and pigment, 180 BCE/500 CE, Nazca; South coast, PeruDouble Pendant in the Form of a Mythical Caiman, gold with plaster restoration of boar tusks, 800/1200 CE, Coclé; Coclé province, PanamaVase of Seven Gods, Ah Maxam (active mid-late 8th century), ceramic and pigment, 750/800 CE, Late Classic Maya; vicinity of Naranjo, Petén region, GuatemalaMantle (detail), camelid wool, 100 BCE/200 CE, Paracas Necropolis; Paracas peninsula, south coast, PeruDouble-Spouted Vessel Depicting Ritual Masks, ceramic and pigment, 180 BCE/500 CE, Nazca; South coast, PeruPedestal Bowl, ceramic and pigment, 700/1100 CE, Coclé; possibly Los Santos province, PanamaJar in the Form of a Seated Figure, ceramic and pigment, 100 BCE/500 CE, Moche; North coast, Peru
Guanyin (Avalokiteshvara), gilt copper alloy, late 14th century, Yuan/early Ming dynasty, ChinaGonzaze Myō-ō, Nakabayashi Gennai, wood with polychromy, 1680 [Edo period], JapanStanding Attendant (Tomb Figurine), wood with traces of polychrome pigments, Eastern Zhou dynasty, Warring States period, 4th/3rd century BCE, ChinaArmored Guardian King (Tianwang), earthenware with three-color (sancai) lead glazes and traces of pigments, Tang dynasty, first half of the 8th century, ChinaHead of a Bodhisattva, stucco with traces of pigment, 4th/6th century, Pakistan or Afghanistan, Gandharan regionVajrasattva Seated on Lotus Flower with Hands Grasping a Thunderbolt (Vajra) and Bell (Ghanta) with Thunderbolt Handle, gilt copper alloy, Tang dynasty, late 8th/early 9th century, ChinaDetail of saddle on “Camel with Rider,” earthenware with three-color (sancai) lead glazes and traces of pigments, Tang dynasty, first half of the 8th century, ChinaPlaque with Demonic Mask, Late Neolithic period, Longshan culture or Shang dynasty, 2nd millenium BCEPensive Bodhisattva, gray schist, 2nd/3rd century, Pakistan, Gandharan regionHead of a Buddhist Deity, Possibly Prajnaparamita, sandstone, Angkor period, 13th century, CambodiaShūkongōjin, wood with traces of polychromy, 12th/14th century [probably Kamakura period], JapanFemale Musician, earthenware with polychrome pigments, Tang dynasty, first half of the 8th century, ChinaArmored Guardian (Wushiyong), earthenware with polychrome pigments and gilding, Tang dynasty, late 7th/early 8th century, ChinaDing (tripod food caldron) with tao-tie design, bronze, Shang dynasty, 11th century BCE, China“Running in Advance” Mask (Shinshōtoku), wood with traces of color, 15th/16th century [probably Muromachi period], JapanEquestrienne, earthenware with traces of polychrome pigments, Tang dynasty, 2nd quarter of 8th century, ChinaFour-Armed Sarasvati, Goddess of Learning, Seated in Lotus Position (Padmasana), chloritic schist, Hoyasala period, 13th century; India, Karnataka, Mysore regionVotive Plaque with God Vishnu; gilt bronze with ivory, semiprecious stones, crystal, and glass; c. 19th century; Nepal, Kathmandu ValleyBodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, sandstone, Angkor period, 12th/13th century, CambodiaFudō Myō-ō, wood with polychromy and gilt-bronze accessories, 12th/14th century [probably Kamakura period], JapanGroom, earthenware with three-color (sancai) lead glazes and traces of pigments, Tang dynasty, first half of the 8th century, ChinaDemon Mask (Tsuina-men), wood with traces of color, 15th/16th century [probably Muromachi period], JapanEntertainer (Tomb Figure), buff earthenware with pigment, Northern Dynasties, 6th century, ChinaLakshmana, from Panel with Lakshmana and Hanuman, the Monkey God, terracotta, Gupta period, 4th/5th century; India, Uttar PradeshStanding Attendant (Tomb Figurine), wood with traces of polychrome pigments, Eastern Zhou dynasty, Warring States period, 4th/3rd century BCE, ChinaSōgyō Hachiman, wood with traces of white pigment, Heian period, 10th century, JapanSeitaka Dōji, wood with traces of polychromy, 15th century [Muromachi period], JapanSnake Goddess Manasa, basalt, 11th century, Bangladesh or Eastern IndiaZenzai Dōji, wood with glass and polychromy and metal accessories, 12th/14th century [probably Kamakura period], JapanTwenty-Armed Dancing God Ganesha, Remover of Obstacles, buff sandstone, 11th century, India (Madhya Pradesh)Standing Attendant (Tomb Figurine), wood with traces of polychrome pigments, Eastern Zhou dynasty, Warring States period, 4th/3rd century BCE, ChinaBodhisattva, limestone with traces of polychromy, Tang dynasty, 8th century, ChinaArmored Guardian King (Tianwang), earthenware with three-color (sancai) lead glazes and traces of pigments, Tang dynasty, first half of the 8th century, ChinaWeight in the form of nested birds, gilt bronze, Tang dynasty (618-907), China
In Part 1 of this review, I focused on the contentious origins of the new Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art and the problematic concept of provincialism that quietly plagues any small or medium-sized cultural center in this country.
Built with the purpose of redefining a predominantly rural community as a new cultural destination, the greatest challenge for the CBMAA is to create a space and collection capable of meeting the established standards for world-class museums while also representing solidarity with its specific location.
Although the work on the grounds and building has yet to be completed, the museum has already proven itself to be generally successful in striking this delicate balance. In some instances, however, its achievement comes hand-in-hand with a curatorial timidity that has kept the CBMAA from being as intellectually daring as it could be.
Be that as it may, there is much to celebrate in the new Crystal Bridges Museum. One of its most refreshing aspects is the self-evident intention of all involved to create an innovative space that responds to the natural and cultural environment of the institution’s surroundings without sacrificing the larger story of American art.
Both in- and outside of the building itself, the curving lines and sloping shapes of Moshe Safdie’s architectural design clearly draw on the forms of organic bodies, while the many walls of glass invite as much contemplation of the world outside as the art within.
Not only does his design harmonize well with its natural setting, but it is in easy dialogue with another nearby structure of architectural note: the glass and steel Mildred B. Cooper Memorial Chapel, designed by Fay Jones and Maurice Jennings and dedicated in 1988.
If museums are the secular cathedrals of modernity, then the parallel designs of these two spiritual houses seem particularly telling. Both museum and chapel were designed to allow the natural world to visually penetrate the interior and define the visitor’s experience of the space. Taken together, the buildings’ shared concern with transparency and the inclusion of the natural environment suggest the development of a noteworthy local trope in contemporary architecture and the potential for the cultivation of a related style.
Similarly, landscape architect Scott Eccleston modified the CBM’s grounds, which constitute a lightly forested area with trails, streams, and—eventually—a lake that abuts the rear of the building, but did not drastically alter their character. The outdoor sculpture and installations, too, were chosen for their responsiveness to the natural environment, although the sensitivity or sophistication of this responsiveness varies. Highlights include James Turrell’s site-specific installation The Way of Color (2009), which incorporates native rock into his signature investigation of natural light effects; Roxy Paine’s stainless steel tree, Yield (2011), located at the museum’s entrance; and Mark di Suvero’s Lowell’s Ocean (2005–2008), visible both in- and outside of the building.
A preoccupation with nature continues throughout the collection, along with a few other areas of focus. The CBMAA’s own literature describes these themes as “artists’ encounters with and responses to nature; strong women, both as subjects and makers of art; the ongoing dialogue between American artists and other world cultures; and the continuing role of the artist as innovator.”
For a nature-loving, feminist, cross-cultural art historian like myself, that is a very exciting declaration of intent.
A wander around the museum revealed the list to have been arranged in decreasing order of success or urgency, although each concept was indeed present. A fifth motif, not mentioned in the literature but clearly woven throughout the collection, was the subject of conflict. However, this is perhaps the inevitable but unintended consequence of focusing on works that deal with issues of nature, gender, innovation, and cross-cultural interaction.
I was pleased with the quality and selection of much of the work on display throughout the collection, a sample of which can be found in the images at the end of this post. I also liked that between the chronologically divided sections were areas where people could sit and peruse any of a large collection of books. While tables supporting a few exhibition catalogues directly related to the show at hand have become commonplace in temporary exhibits, the selections provided by the CBM are far more comprehensive—and the sitting areas far more welcoming—than found elsewhere.
My greatest criticism of the museum is that it tends to be a little too safe, as was particularly evident in the temporary exhibition of contemporary work titled, Wonder World: Nature and Perception in Contemporary American Art. Excluded from the title but endemic to the works featured in Wonder World was a clear preference for contemporary artists drawing on historical modes of making. Each of these topics—nature, perception, and traditional practices in contemporary art—is a welcome basis for an exhibition, and there is quite a bit of good work in the show. Yet, when viewed together, the pieces felt a little one-note and lacking in radically innovative contributions.
Stagnation is particularly a problem for a museum that takes “artist as innovator” as one of its driving concepts. And with a subject as broad as wonder, nature, and perception, the narrowness of artistic approach seems doubly strange. For instance, why not include people who take the systems of nature as their starting point? Or who play with the nature of nature via an investigation of physics or biology or even taxonomy? While there is nothing wrong with utilizing the convention of representation in contemporary art, there are so many contemporary artists working in non-representational modes, or whose relationships to nature and perception are both subtle and complex, that to lean so heavily on visually and conceptually straightforward works does a disservice to the exhibition’s topic and its visitors.
My other point of concern lies in the apparent definition of American art, which tends towards the mainstream or canonical (albeit expanded for both gender and, in the more recent sections, race). For example, although the collection includes depictions of Native Americans, I do not recall any historical objects by Native Americans in the main galleries.* I suspect this is due partly to lines drawn by citizenship and partly to pre-existing art historical categories put in place to make collections and the narratives they tell manageable and coherent.
In other words, the presence of these somewhat arbitrary collection standards and definitions is not only understandable, but in accordance with typical museum practice. However, should the CBM choose to complicate the concept of “American” in the future by incorporating works which do not stem mainly from European traditions, the story they could tell would be fuller and, in my opinion, more interesting. Such a shift would also represent a challenging and innovative curatorial decision that is already overdue in most museological practice.
Finally, the café is worth mentioning, as it represents a fusion of a high-end sensibility that is typical of museum eateries and the low prices that are a hallmark of both Wal-Mart and Midwestern towns. Even here, the museum exhibits a savvy awareness of the expectations of its varied audience that, if continued, will be the institution’s greatest strength.
Indeed, perhaps what the Crystal Bridges Museum does best, and what it needs to do most, is break down the centuries-long fallacy that nature and culture represent binary opposites. During a period of wide-spread concern for the environment, increased use of urban gardens and suburban farms, and the decentralization of ideas and information away from large cosmopolitan cities, a new museum that takes the fusion of nature and culture as its basis is truly an institution that embodies the concerns of its time.
For further exhibition and visiting information, go to the Crystal Bridges Museum website: http://crystalbridges.org/.
*The CBM does have a dedicated section of cases that presents samples from the collections of other local museums. In addition to representing a uniquely neighborly practice, the cases also suggest the kinds of materials that may be related to, but are not otherwise present in, the CBM’s own collection. Among these is a display for the Museum of Native American History (formerly the Museum of Native American Artifacts).
Jenny Holzer, Venice Installation: Gallery D (Second Antechamber), 1990, seen through Frederick Eversley’s Big Red Lens, 1985Jim Hodges, When We Stay, 1997Devorah Sperber, After The Last Supper, 2005Alison Elizabeth Taylor, Room, 2007-08Walton Ford, The Island, 2009Nick Cave, Soundsuits, 2010Roxy Paine, Bad Lawn, 1998Andrew Wyeth, Airborne, 1996Jamie Wyeth, Orca Bates, 1990Richard Estes, Antarctica, 2007Evan Penny, Old Self: Portrait of the Artist as He Will (Not) Be. Variation #2, 2010Max Ferguson, Time, 2006John Singleton Copley, Mrs. Theodore Atkinson Jr. (Frances Deering Wentworth) [detail], 1765George Winter, Ten Potawatomi Chiefs, 1837Richard Caton Woodville, War News from Mexico, 1848Gilbert Stuart, William Smith, ca. 1801–02Samuel Finley Breese Morse, Marquis, de Lafayette, 1825Martin Johnson Heade, Cattleya Orchid, Two Hummingbirds and a Beetle, ca. 1875–90Dennis Miller Bunker, Anne Page, 1887Mary Cassatt, The Reader, 1877Thomas Eakins, Professor Benjamin Howard Rand, 1874William Holbrook Beard, School Rules, 1887Maria Oakey Dewing, Rose Garden, 1901John Singer Sargent, Robert Louis Stevenson and His Wife [detail], 1885Thomas Eakins, The Model, ca. 1908Maxfield Parrish, The Lantern Bearers, 1908Isamu Noguchi, Lunar Landscape, 1943Arshile Gorky, Composition (Still Life), 1936–37Will Barnet, Woman Reading, 1965Jasper Johns, Bread, High School Days, and Light Bulb, 1969Oscar Bluemner, Self-Portrait, 1933Wayne Thiebaud, Supine Woman, 1963Kara Walker, A Warm Summer Evening in 1863, 2008Louise Nevelson, Night Zag Wall, 1969–74Kerry James Marshall, Our Town, 1995Lynda Benglis, Eat Meat, 1969/1975James Turrell, The Way of Color, 2009
Asher B. Durand, Kindred Spirits, 1849. Image from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Asher_Durand_Kindred_Spirits.jpg
Back in 2005, Wal-Mart heiress Alice Walton reportedly purchased Asher B. Durand’s 1849 painting, Kindred Spirits, for $35 million. While the practice of incredibly wealthy people paying incredibly high prices for paintings would normally receive little more than a shrug or eye roll by most jaded capitalists, Ms. Walton’s case drew a bit more attention because to acquire the painting she outbid a joint attempt by the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the National Gallery of Art to purchase it. Doing so also served as a national public announcement of her intention to build a new museum of American art in her hometown of Bentonville in northwest Arkansas.Although the deal warranted coverage in the New York Times, I only learned of the semi-scandalous venture a few years later via my husband’s grandparents during a visit to their home in Bella Vista, a small suburban town neighboring Bentonville. Good hosts and frequent champions of the Waltons, they relayed the tale both with the intention of entertaining us as well as a sincere pride in the impressiveness of Ms. Walton’s victory over such major institutions.
My own reaction was more ambivalent.
I sympathized with the desire to create a public institution that served a community which otherwise did not have much in-person access to major works of art. I also believe that there is something to be said for spreading culturally significant objects around to different locations (as a security measure against disaster, at least). And although all museums want to build the strongest and most cohesive collections possible, it is difficult to argue that the Met or National Gallery “need” another painting. Indeed, although much can be said about the historical significance of Kindred Spirits, the overall collections of museums like the Met are so vast that even major works of art can be easily overlooked by the casual visitor. If you want to highlight the importance of an individual piece, smaller venues tend to be best.
On the other hand, when it comes down to the numbers, it is impossible to suppose that as many people will see objects housed in a small town in Northwest Arkansas as would in either New York or Washington DC.
Ethically, too, the purchase rankled. Although everyone in the field knows that the art economy and its related institutions are dependent on the generosity of a handful of wealthy patrons, it is nonetheless unsettling to have a single individual tank the combined efforts of two large and distinguished cultural institutions. The fact that this money came from the Wal-Mart empire, one of the most divisive and problematic businesses of recent decades, only shone a brighter light on the morally ambiguous nature of the discipline.
Furthermore, it was—and is—difficult to read Ms. Walton’s purchase as occurring outside of this country’s supposed “culture wars,” in which progressiveness, urbanity, and both coasts seem to be grouped together and set against conservatism, ruralism, and the rest of the country. Although I grew up in St. Louis, I have spent most of my adult life in coastal cities or abroad. There are reasons for this that go beyond the simple necessities of education and employment, and yet I am still attached enough to my hometown to refer to my visits there as “going home.” At the time of our trip to Bella Vista, we had recently moved to New York so that I could pursue my PhD at the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, and my ambivalence about Ms. Walton’s purchase and intentions for a museum were really only the other side of my already existing discomfort about my new place of residence.
New York is, after all, an undisputed center for art and culture in the United States. In terms of resources and historical importance, there is no better place to study art, especially the development of modern and contemporary art, in this country.
However, there were two things that I noticed early on that never stopped bothering me during my time in NYC. The first was an unshakable sense that the city had reached a point in which the creative forces that had made it great were being strangled by its own history. Work in galleries tended to be more safe than interesting. The differences between these and the “provincial” galleries of other cities were primarily twofold: 1) the New York galleries had a higher asking price for their objects and 2) even works from other parts of the globe were in easy dialogue with the New York-based movements of the mid-20th century.
The second trend I noticed is closely related to the first: the frequent recurrence of the term “provincial” (especially in academic settings) as a shorthand means of dismissing an idea, argument, place, work, or person. Beyond being obviously condescending and shabby scholarship, such use of the term is particularly absurd in a place like New York which is not only infamously obsessed with itself to the exclusion of most other places, but which had the same term frequently thrown at it less than a century ago when the entirety of the United States was understood to represent the cultural backwater of Europe. Of course, it is probably this very history that has fostered the current enthusiasm for applying the term elsewhere.
As a native of “fly over country”—and as someone who has seen places like St. Louis grow into increasingly complex but perpetually undervalued cultural centers—I am admittedly sensitive to these little jabs from my colleagues and peers. But there are advantages to being made aware of one’s own otherness, and in this case it has caused me to seriously question the very nature of provincialism in the 21st century.
After all, the idea of provincialism is based on a socio-cultural model in which ideas and goods converged and circulated primarily through a handful of urban centers (usually political or economic capitals), leaving everywhere else relatively isolated and therefore culturally inbred.
But the advent of the Internet, not to mention the increased ease of travel, has made this model nearly obsolete as it applies to smaller urban centers. Not that Internet access or travel guarantees increased creativity or a more cosmopolitan outlook. Certainly anyone wanting to deepen her own ignorance can do that as well as someone hoping to broaden her horizons. What the Internet does is decentralize information, making one’s knowledge-set an individual choice rather than an environmental inevitability.
Of course, this is only true for those who actually have access to the Internet. Poverty or lack of infrastructure—a serious issue in many rural districts—still prevent too many people from taking part in an increasingly global culture. Even these cases, however, represent a changeable and changing situation that differentiates them from the classic model of provincialism.
For those of us fortunate enough to participate in the global stream of ideas, the world is wide open. Indeed, as countless authors have already noted, the greater problem now seems to be in knowing what to pay attention to and what to believe. One of the results of this new circumstance is that the role of major cultural institutions, including colleges and museums, has become to narrow and direct our focus rather than broaden our horizons.
I believe it is that embattled privilege—the privilege of determining the narrative of culture—that has produced a certain intellectual rigidness in some of our finest academic institutions and lies at the heart of our so-called “culture wars.”
This is the context into which the Crystal Bridges Museum has been conceived and brought to life. Stay tuned for the second part of my review, which will deal with the museum itself.
Alexander Liberman’s The Way at Laumeier Sculpture ParkJudith Shea, Public Goddess, 1992 and Terry Allen, Laumeier U-ME-UM, 1998Niki de Saint Phalle, Ricardo Cat, 1999Manuel Neri, Aurelia Roma, 1994 (white marble wrapped for the weather) and Tony Tasset, Eye, 2007Aurelia Roma and Yo_Cy (Christine Yogiaman and Ken Tracy), Loom Portal, 2011Jenny Holzer, one of Ten Plaques from the Living Series, 1980–82Yo_Cy (Christine Yogiaman and Ken Tracy), Loom Portal (detail of exterior section), 2011Tony Tasset, Eye, 2007Mark di Suvero, Bornibus, 1985–87Mark di Suvero, Destino, 2003Charles Ginnever, Crete, 1976-78Alexander Liberman, The Way, 1972–80, eighteen salvaged steel oil tanksVito Acconci, Face of the Earth #3, 1988 (under renovation)Robert Lobe, The Palm at the End of the Parking Lot, 1995Donald Judd, Untitled, 1984Donald Lipski, Ball? Ball! Wall? Wall!, 1994Mark Menin, Cores for Laumeier, 2003George Greenamyer, Heritage Schooner for Debra Lakin, September 30, 1998
Dan Flavin (American, 1933–96), Untitled (for you, Leo, in long respect and affection) 3, 1978
Collection-based shows are always problematic because, to an even greater extent than in other exhibitions, the story they tell is limited and skewed by the parameters of a single institution’s holdings. However, every exhibition narrative is necessarily biased, and the particular kind of limitation intrinsic to the collection show is at least upfront and obvious.
In some instances, these limits can in fact create a useful lens through which to disrupt more familiar stories of an idea or time period. In the case of The Language of Less: Then and Now, currently on view at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago, the all-too-pat historical understanding of “Minimalism” as a masculine, New York-based movement is troubled by the exhibition’s more global and gender-balanced approach.At the same time, both the objects on display and the labels or wall texts accompanying them provide a clear introduction to the ideas behind the push towards simplified forms in the 1960s and beyond that is still broadly referred to as Minimalism. The exhibition (which is split into larger and smaller halves of historical and recent art) therefore offers fertile ground for the thoughts of those already familiar with the history of contemporary art as well as anyone looking for a means of developing an appreciation of Minimalist objects.
Robert Smithson (American, 1938–73), Mirror Stratum, 1966
Smithson―who is perhaps still best remembered for his earthwork project in Utah’s Great Salt Lake, Spiral Jetty (1970)―is featured prominently in the exhibit with two rarely seen works, Mirror Stratum (above) and an untitled aluminum wall sculpture from the Stenn Family collection. Both pieces exemplify the artist’s interest in the repeated forms which comprise the basis of both natural structures and ancient architecture.
Mirror Stratum, a corner piece consisting of a series of square mirrors stacked in order of decreasing size, is particularly evocative of both the Mayan pyramids and crystalline formations that frequently loomed large in Smithson’s thinking and production. As such, the work exemplifies a kind of Minimalist production based on simple arrangements of repeated, industrially produced objects that manage to poetically suggest a far-reaching range of subject matter.In addition, just as Flavin’s light sculptures (above) command not only the space physically occupied by fluorescent tubing but all of the area filled by their light, Smithson’s stacked mirrors produce a reflected pattern on the wall that extends far above the objects themselves. While this is consistent with a common Minimalist concern with an object’s ability to activate and define the space around it, the effect is also specifically related to what the wall text describes as Smithson’s interest in mirrors as a material that was both “physically present and immaterial, a quality that puts the viewer on heightened alert.”
Foreground: Alan Sonfist (American, b. 1946), Earth Monument to Chicago, 1965–77 [core samples from beneath the city of Chicago ordered according to color and material]. Background, center: Charlotte Posenenske (German, 1930–85), Series DW Vierkantrohre (Square Tubes), 1967.Posenenske’s cardboard sculpture is actually composed of interchangeable components. The single work can therefore appear in various but limited arrangements depending on the choices made by whoever displays it. The assembled versions represent a collaboration between the artist—who was responsible for the character and number of the individual components—and the past, present, and future installers who determine its overall form.While American Minimalists like Donald Judd also created sculptural compositions based on the arrangement of individual units, these units are typically either identical or mathematically related in size and require installers to follow very particular directions dictated by the artist. They therefore lack the variability and interactivity encouraged by Posenenske’s production.
On wall: Richard Tuttle (American, b. 1941), Purple Octagonal, 1967. On floor: Franz Erhard Walther (German, b. 1939), Netz (Net), 1963.
Walther’s fishing net shares the grid aesthetic of classic Minimalism. However, as a found and interactive object dependent on its placement within a gallery space for its status as art, it also possesses a heightened gestural quality that clearly bridges Conceptualism.
Tuttle also sought an open quality that is lacking in the contemporary production of many of his compatriots working within the Minimalist paradigm. Here, his dyed canvas lacks a clear top or bottom (and front or back) and can be installed anywhere in a room.
Michelle Stuart (American, b. 1938), Turtle Pond, 1974
One commonality shared by many Minimalist artists is a concern with systems, often represented by the repeated forms of the grid. As noted by the exhibition’s curators, Stuart maintains this interest in “vast systems,” but turns instead to concrete models present in nature rather than the rigid, abstracted form of the grid. The complex, varied surface of Turtle Pond is actually a rubbing of soil, yet it suggests any number of subjects, from the pond of its title to the expanse of the universe.
Daniel Buren (French, b. 1938), Zu Unterstreichen (To Underline), 1989
Although To Underline was made in 1989, its origins lie in the 1960s when Buren began making paintings on striped awning. The found structure imposed by the pre-made stripes (a technique initially explored in the late 1950s by Frank Stella in his Black Paintings) helped to create a unity between individual paintings while drawing attention to the dimensions of each canvas.
Foreground: Richard Serra (American, b. 1939), Prop, 1968 [lead antimony]. Background: Bruce Nauman (American, b. 1941), Untitled, 1965 [fiberglass and polyester resin]. Like many works in the exhibition, both Serra’s and Nauman’s objects traverse the floor and wall, suggesting a merging of painting and sculpture. In juxtaposition with one another, these deceptively simple works also offer evidence of diverging and surprisingly complex personas: Serra’s daring, stiff, austere, carefully calculated, and potentially dangerous installation seems almost aggressively (or perhaps stereotypically) masculine beside Nauman’s colorful and humorous, but also pathetically flaccid and delicate, sculpture.
Carol Bove (American, b. Switzerland, 1971), Polka Dots, 2011 [bronze, steel, concrete, and shells] in front of Harlequin, 2011 [Plexiglas and expanded sheet metal]Carol Bove (American, b. Switzerland, 1971), Untitled, 2011 [peacock feathers on linen]Filling the first gallery of the “Now” section of the exhibit, Bove’s objects clearly reflect Minimalism’s fondness for the repeated form of the grid as well as industrial materials and a consciousness of the surrounding space. However, unlike her predecessors, she also often incorporates delicate, natural materials—such as feathers and shells—into her works.
Oscar Tuazon (American, b. 1975; lives and works in France), I gave my name to it, 2010 [steel plate and fluorescent lamps]Tuazon’s use of fluorescent lights is clearly reminiscent of Flavin’s light sculptures. However, in I gave my name to it, the fluorescents’ placement under a steel plate on the floor both muffles the light produced by the fixtures and creates a tension between the delicacy of the lamps and the weight of the metal. More generally, Tuazon’s production tends to relinquish Minimalism’s concern with pristine form based on industrial production in favor of a rougher, more do-it-yourself aesthetic.
Additionally, The Language of Less compliments the content of the monographic exhibitions currently on view in the museum’s other galleries, including the smaller “MCA DNA” shows dedicated to Gordon Matta-Clark and Dieter Roth, both of whose works from the 1970s are indebted to ideas which had started to percolate the decade before.The introduction to Minimalism outlined in The Language of Less provides a particularly helpful background for the exhibit dedicated to Canada’s Iain Baxter& (b. Iain Baxter, United Kingdom, 1936), whose often humorous objects and installations are clearly rooted in the movements of the 1960s and 1970s. Indeed, many of his works poke fun at the production of his contemporaries or recent predecessors, and so make little sense without a background in other artists of that period.
IT (collaborative name of Baxter, Elaine Hieber, and John Friel), Extended Noland, 1966 [velvet ribbon on fabric]IT, Pneumatic Judd, 1965 [inflated vinyl]Iain Baxter&, Television Works, 1999–2006 [Acrylic paint on reclaimed televisions; reclaimed pedestals and reclaimed metal wall brackets]Baxter&’s oeuvre likewise suggests comparisons with the conceptual production of his compatriot, Ron Terada, whose show Being There is also up until January 15. The integrated nature of the MCA’s exhibitions creates an unusual and somewhat meandering narrative of the last 50 years that nonetheless reaffirms the importance of Minimalism, Conceptualism, and their descendants in North America and Europe.The Language of Less is on view through April 15, 2012 (Then) and March 15, 2012 (Now).