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In the past few months I've done a lot of thinking about art - why it exists, what it is, why it's important, etc. And I've also done a lot of thinking about how it all fits in to my life and what exactly I want to do with this blog.
In the past I've just used this blog to ramble about vaguely creative things I'm doing or rant about things I don't really know about. Not only that, but I do it inconsistently. And I want that to change.
I'm doing a complete remodel of how I run this blog. This blog is not meant to be a diary or journal or travel-log. I want it to mean something, like, to other people. I want it to be fun and informative and interesting.
And so, I have come up with a schedule or agenda of sorts. Each month I plan on making at least three posts. One of which will be featuring an artist that I think the world ought to know more about (or one that I'd like to know more about). These could be anything from Contemporary or historical artists to even comic-book artists or pastry-chefs! Maybe I'll even take suggestions. Another will be art that I'm currently working on or have recently finished. While I would like my blog to start focusing more on its audience, it is still kind of about me as an artist. As for the third post, I want to write a tutorial or activity or other such helpful (relatively) artistic advice.
Today, I'd like to start by introducing you all to a Contemporary artist. Part of why I'm doing this is because it wasn't until very recently that I even had a concept of what Contemporary Art really is. And I'm an art major! It was hard for me to grasp at first. I had these preconceived ideas that installations and video pieces and things like that were these sort of snooty mockeries of "real art". Please know that I was very wrong in this assumption. Though I do think there are some pieces out there that do kind of have this feel, Contemporary Art and specifically what's known as "New Genre" has so much more to offer than I ever realized. While not all my features are going to be about Contemporary Art, one of my goals of doing this is to break down some of the assumptions surrounding it and show that it isn't this confusing uppity society of pretentious hipsters and mock-Socrateses (this is more or less the image I used to have in my mind of the current art world). I think something the Contemporary Art world lacks is an informed non-artist community.
So, without further ado, I give you Oscar Munoz.
Oscar Munoz is an artist from Columbia who was born in the early 50's. He has lived in the city Cali for several decades now and the city inspires and influences much of his works. One of his pieces, called Ambulatorio is an aerial photograph of the city that was actually printed on shattered security glass.
Ambulatorio
The piece was in response to a time of heavy war occurring in Colombia and specifically, a bombing that happened in Cali.
Most of Munoz' work deals with time and memory and he experiments a lot with the concept of photography. In his work he also often comments on human nature.
(Aside: I do not enjoy writing authoritatively. Just because these are things I gathered from reading a few online sources doesn't necessarily mean they're precisely spot on. I've never actually met the guy, so who knows what his work is really about! But, after reading about him here, I encourage readers to determine what his art means to them.)
In my research about Munoz, I came across a space he created in Cali, called Lugar a Dudas or "a place for doubts". It's a "laboratory" where younger artists are encouraged to gather and discuss. They hold exhibitions and film screenings and lectures and it's home to an extensive library of art resources. It sounds absolutely fantastic to me and it's now on my bucket list of art places I want to go see (though I'm not sure when I'll ever be in Colombia). I love the idea of "a place for doubts," like it wants you to question things and really think about art and the things you believe about it and that other people believe about it. Oftentimes art can feel so one-sided and solitary. I admit, I prefer to look at art by myself - there's no one around to ask my opinion and then tell me I'm wrong, there's less doubt involved. But doubt can be good, constructive, even. It may be unpleasant, but it can lead to questions and revelations and ultimately change. And that's kind of exciting.
Another exciting thing is that I actually got to see some of Munoz' work. Like, in person and stuff.
It was the first weekend of my Study Abroad. On our first day of the program our professors gave us a list of museums we had to visit and our first assignments. For each class I was supposed to pick three pieces, (three paintings for my painting class and three New Genre pieces for New Genre) sit in front of them for half an hour and write things like what it looked like, what we thought it meant, whether we thought it was successful, etc. It was difficult at times, sitting in front of a piece that I didn't always care about for a whole half hour, but in other instances not so much . . .
I believe it was on Saturday that we wandered in to the Jeu De Paume. We were going because the other people in my group were taking Photography and needed some pieces to do their write-ups on. The only thing I knew about the museum or its exhibits was that I was pretty sure one of my professors had probably mentioned it at some point. I was prepared to be contentedly bored at most (photography isn't really my thing). However, as I meandered into Oscar Munoz' Protographies, little did I know that my entire perspective on art (in a contemporary, gallery-type way) was about to be turned on its head. I was expecting a very normal selection of photographs, but as I looked around, nothing "normal" was to be found. There were smudgy people-shapes emblazoned on shower curtains hanging in the middle of one room, videos of faces disappearing into the drain of an emptying sink or evaporating from the surface of a hot sidewalk in another.
No, my first thought was nothing along the lines of "wow, what an unconventional presentation of the human image," but rather "hmm, perhaps I can find something in here to write one of my papers on."
Well, I did find something - A Traves del Cristal or "Through the Glass". Originally I had passed it up as simply a set of framed photographs, nothing all that exciting. But on a second look, I discovered they weren't so simple as I thought.
At this point I would post a picture or video or something, but unfortunately there really is no way to experience these pieces other than physically standing in front of them. So, I will do my best to provide an accurate and intelligible description.
On a wall in the first room, there were a series of what looked to be framed photographs arranged in that nebulous sort of way you expect to see people's family portraits to be hung in their home (kind of like those idea clouds you had to make in Junior High English classes). But they weren't photographs at all, they were videos of photographs. Now, at this point I would not be surprised for some to react with raised eyebrows and thoughts such as "how can you tell a photo from a video of a photo?" Let me explain. Munoz went in to people's homes in Colombia and videotaped a certain photograph in their house for some extended period of time (I think they're all around an hour). Not only do you get the background noises of what's going on in the house, but the camera also captures the reflection on the glass in front of the photo, something we would normally filter out if we looked at it in person, sort of fusing the two images together.
I was somewhat mesmerized by these photos. I pulled out my notebook and began to write away. (Funny side story - when you stand in front of a piece for extended periods of time, especially while writing in a notebook, other people tend to start congregating in front of the same piece. You get sideways glances followed by squinty inspections of the art, like they're trying to figure out why you think it's so important.) I started by writing down a description of the piece - which I soon discovered was actually a very hard thing to do - and then I moved on to the feelings I got from it and what I thought it was trying to say or do.
With each photo I was trying to figure out what was going on in the house. Some were obvious - a woman cleaning chairs, a television playing. In others I could only see shadows and hear that sort of rolling overtone of several conversations going on at once or cars passing by. It created this sort of surreal experience.
When I began to describe my reaction to the piece I was wary at first. Looking at art doesn't often evoke very strong feelings in me. I mean, I can recognize general moods in a painting, but I don't often say things like "wow, this painting just makes me feel so happy, I think I'm going to change the world because of it" or "gosh, that sculpture makes me feel so mad! I hate everything now!" Up until that point, most gallery-type art always seemed too indifferent to it's viewers to really have any sway on my emotions. But, as I started to write I began to push and prod myself and really engage with the pieces. For perhaps the first time in my life I wasn't just looking at a piece of art, I was experiencing it. As I strained eyes and ears to discover either the picture itself or what lay beyond it, I felt connected to the photos. I felt transported and isolated. I stopped thinking about whatever the artist's intentions may have been, and was completely focused on how I interacted with them, or rather, how they were interacting with me.
I left the gallery that day with a deep, new-found appreciation for this unknown field of New Genre I was about to step into. I realized what this kind of art could do, and I wanted to do it.
When considering who I wanted to write about for this first post, I already had a substantial list of artists I wanted to research and talk about, but I settled on Munoz because his work was what started me on this crazy new path of contemporary art. His was the first I really learned to appreciate and from there my perspective only kept widening.
If you'd like to look at more pieces or learn more about Munoz, here's some websites:
And I'm back! Though not as soon as last time, sorry about that.
On to Copenhagen!
Copenhagen
From Berlin we took a plane to Denmark, which was probably one of the best airplane experiences I've had. On this flight, since it was a small plane, we actually got to walk out onto the tarmac and climb these stairs that were pushed up next to the plane. Like they do in old movies. I thought it was pretty cool. We also got some delicious pretzel bread during the flight and chocolate afterwards. The flight itself was only about a half-hour, though.
From the airport we took a train to our hotel. It certainly wasn't the fanciest hotel we stayed at, but I was actually pretty excited about that. I'm the kind of person who thinks it would be fun to stay in crowded hostels . . . or in the back of a car. We had four people to each room with two bunkbeds that were set into the wall kind of like you expect to see in a boat. It was awesome and crowded, but it was an adventure.
Our first day there we went to the National Museet. Best. Museum. Ever. Not only was the subject matter fantastic (Vikings, one of my favorite groups of people from history) but the museum itself was done very well. It didn't take itself too seriously. The little information cards they have next to artefacts actually gave you fascinating information and were incredibly well-written. I could've spent days in there. It kindled my imagination, which I think is why any kid falls in love with history in the first place (or art for that matter). It's fascinating to think about how people lived and what they did every day and whether you might've been friends with them had you lived back then. That's why I'm getting my minor in Anthropology/Archaeology instead of History. History focuses on those giant, world-changing events while archaeology focuses on individuals. And not just important figures, but every individual they can dig up. There's still a degree of impersonal-ness in the field, but that's why I'm minoring in it and majoring in art. I want to fuse the two somehow, but I haven't figured that out yet.
Any way, if you ever get the chance to be in Copenhagen, you really ought to go to the National Museet.
Their gift store was also pretty amazing. I bought a book on reading runes. It's so cool!
Later that evening we attempted to find that famous Danish landmark, The Little Mermaid Statue. We walked for a really long time and were very close to giving up when finally, finally we spotted it from atop a hill in a little park by the coast. It was somewhat anti-climatic, but I have no regrets.
We got to see a lot of the city that way. Copenhagen is one of the most beautiful cities I've seen. My mom described it very accurately when she told me she remembered it being "quaint". It's like this perfect little European town forgotten by time. Unfortunately that probably somewhat accounts for the steep prices of everything. I would've run out of money much more quickly if we'd spent the majority of our time there instead of Berlin.
The next day we went to the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art. My phone died that day so I didn't get to take any pictures, but I did get to see some great art. Namely, I got to see some Giacometti sculptures! Yay! I like those guys.
I don't remember much else from that day, except that we went to the most fairy-tale-esque chapel for church. (Gosh I love Danish architecture). Oh and we did go see the original Christus statue. It seems like almost everything in that city is difficult to find, though. We again walked for much longer than we would've liked trying to find that church.
We started our last day in Copenhagen (and our last day of the program) by going to Den Bla Planet, an aquarium. It was pretty great. They had sharks and schmetterlings (butterflies) and puffins. Before we left I decided to buy a loaf of bread (because they apparently sell bread in their aquariums in Denmark). In other countries I think I had gotten fairly good at figuring out what different foods were based on their labels, but Danish was new to me, so I had absolutely no idea what I was ordering except that it looked like bread with possibly slices of apple in it. Turns out they weren't apples, they were potatoes. It was delicious, though! I've been wanting to make some ever since I got home.
Anyways, we went back to the hotel after that and lounged around and started packing up before heading back out for our last night together. And what a night it was. Included in our 72-hour Copenhagen cards was admittance to Tivoli Gardens. Essentially, it's Denmark's version of Disneyland. It's much smaller, of course, but still pretty awesome. I got to ride my first Ferris Wheel and we went on some awesome rollercoasters. Fun fact about me: I love rollercoasters! I used to be terrified of them for the longest time, but then my friends dragged me on to Wicked at Lagoon my senior year of high school and I've been hooked ever since.
The end of the night was bittersweet. It was sad knowing our program was over and that I wouldn't get to hang out with all these awesome people all the time anymore, but it also was nice to be going home . . .
Well, not just yet.
The program may have ended that night, but my travels weren't finished just yet.
Back to Brussels!
Awesomely enough, my brother and his family had just moved to Brussels a few weeks before the end of my trip and they let me come stay with them before I finally headed home.
Unfortunately my brother was back in the states for the first part of my visit, but I had loads of fun with my nieces and nephew and sister-in-law anyways. We went to castles and French lessons and comic museums. It was so great to change pace and be able to travel around without the constraints of being a student, anymore. I absolutely loved hanging out with my niblings - the collective term for nieces and nephews.
I loved talking to them about how I was going to school to be an artist. Every day it seemed they would beg me to do some sort of art project with them. They really rekindled my desire to perhaps one day teach art.
My nephew made this collage comic!
"Do you like my hat? Do you like my party hat?"
My brother finally got back at the end of the week and the next day we decided to go out to the Medieval Fishing Village of Walraversijde.
It was another fantastic museum. If there's one thing I developed during my travels abroad, it was a strong opinion of how I think museums ought to be run.
Walraversijde is a medieval fishing village out in West Flanders that also has some cool World War II history around it and something to do with King Frederich or someone like that. There's like three museums all in one there.
Anyways, with the fishing village they start by showing you a short introduction video that just had some CG scenes of the village at different years (it got destroyed a lot). Then you took your audio-guide outside on this path down to three reconstructed houses. I was actually impressed with the audio-guides. I normally skipped things like that, but I was glad I didn't on this one. Each house belonged to a different class of person and the audio-guides were from the perspectives of the kind of people who would've lived in each house.
However, the best part of it all was the lack of the typical kind of security you usually find at places like this. A few props were nailed or screwed to the table to keep you from stealing them, but there was absolutely no guardrails or security guards to keep you from touching whatever you wanted. We sat in the beds, we opened the windows, we climbed all the ladders. It was awesome. I think allowing someone to touch a piece of history, physically touch it, is one of the best ways to get them excited about it. Most of the bricks used in the three buildings were actual bricks they had excavated from the site. How cool is that?!
The three houses
Archaeologist's Building
For the next week we mainly just hung around my brother's apartment - going to parks, Carrefour, bookstores. Since it was also my nephews birthday that week, though, we made plans to take a road trip to Paris that weekend. (I still have a hard time believing I took a road trip to Paris). Before leaving Friday morning, however, there was one last thing to do in Brussels - The Flower Carpet. Every two years the city fills the Grand Place with cut flowers arranged into a carpet pattern for a weekend. It's also the only weekend that tourists are allowed in the giant palace-looking building that's there.
It was pretty awesome and I'm so glad we had time to go see it.
But then we had to be off, Paris was waiting.
Originally our plan was to stop at this castle on our way to Paris, but unfortunately the GPS had a rather difficult time of finding it and we ended up at some sort of fort thing with no clue as to where this castle was and no internet to look it up. So instead we soldiered on to Paris and got there earlier than we would've, having enough time to venture out into the city and find some delicious dinner.
I will admit, Paris has some spectacular food. Restaurants are a little confusing in Europe at first, but boy is the food almost always guaranteed to be delicious. And once you get used to how things are done, it's kind of nice not to have waiters constantly disturbing your meal to see how your food tastes or if you're ready for the check. After dinner I think we walked past Notre Dame, but it was getting late by this point so we headed back to the hotel.
The next day the real adventures began. Our first stop was the Eiffel Tower as requested by the birthday boy. I was really glad seeing as I didn't have time (much to the astoundment of my family) to go see it the first time I was there. (How can you go to Paris and not see the Eiffel Tower?!)
Well, now I've seen it. Although we didn't get to go up because the line was longer than that of Space Mountain's during Spring Break when the fast passes aren't working.
Later that day we returned to the Louvre, which I was most excited about. It was a little difficult getting there because a lot of the Subway lines were down so much walking was involved. The major attractions of Paris aren't really too far apart from each other, but when you're traveling with three children anything can seem forever away.
But we made it and I was free to wander the art-saturated halls. Since we only had a few hours I probably should've explored a part of the museum I hadn't been in before, but I was on a quest. I had to know if the restorations on the Winged Victory had been completed. And it took me a little longer to find it than it had before. But, lo and behold, there she was! In all her headless, armless beauty.
I spent most of my time just sitting in front of it making drawings and sketching. But I did get to other parts of the museum before my time was up. For example I got to see these Archimboldo paintings. I didn't even know they were in the Louvre. And the Venus de Milo (again, didn't even know it was there, I just kind of turned a corner and was like "hey, I know that statue"). And yes, I did see the Mona Lisa this time. I was resistant, but decided I should see what the fuss was about it, and to be honest, I think it's absolutely ridiculous. I see no special qualities to the Mona Lisa. There were far better Da Vinci just outside in the hall and no one was even paying attention to them. It kind of made me mad, but I'll spare you all the rant.
By the end of our Louvre trip, we had three exhausted children and most likely three exhausted adults, so that marked the end of that day. We spent the rest of the evening in our hotel rooms. My brother, sister-in-law, and youngest niece in their room and me, my nephew, and other niece, in the other room. Boy are those children crazy. We were up well-past midnight that night watching strange French operas and jumping on beds.
On Sunday it was time to leave, but we decided to venture out into the city one more time to get some breakfast and see Notre Dame. We ate at a little cafe just on the other side of the Seine from Notre Dame. It seemed almost surreal being there.
Now I won't bore you with how magnificent and breathtaking Notre Dame is because I believe I already talked about it in my first edition of adventures, so I'll just continue on with the rest of our day.
Originally our plan was to head straight home, but we decided to give finding that castle one more shot while we still had some access to internet. At first, it seemed like the GPS was taking us to the exact same empty fort-place we had ended up at before, but right before getting to it, we turned a different way (mind you, there are trees and hills all over that would keep something even like a castle fairly well-hidden from sight). After driving through gorgeous country roads, the trees finally gave way to the most adorable little European village I've ever seen. My experience in Europe up to that point had been limited to big cities and drives along the major freeways. But this was how I'd imagined Europe. It was like a tiny valley lost in time. Narrow cobble-stone streets ran higgledy-piggledy around the shops and houses all smooshed together. The Pierrefonds Castle stood above everything on a hill in the center of this remarkable place.
View behind the castle - everything is so green!
Some sweet-looking ruins
Something I forgot to mention is that the reason we wanted to go to the Pierrefonds castle (other than the simple fact that it was a castle that conveniently lay between Brussels and Paris) was that it was the castle used in the BBC show Merlin. Augh! It was so cool!
It was probably one of the best highlights of my trip. My inner child was over the moon and I couldn't get enough. Unfortunately the castle itself had closed just as we got there so all we could do was walk around the grounds, but it wasn't too bad, because in the town of Pierrefonds itself a medieval fair was being held . . .
This is my absolutely adorable niece doing some dressing up. Personally I would've gone with the cape, but the flower crown really suits her.
What a way to end my European adventures. It was so cool to be in that place at a medieval fair, participating in activities and buying goods that perhaps weren't so far off from the types of things people did and bought when this place was first built. I'm a sucker for anything medieval, so going to a fair in a real medieval town outside of a real medieval castle was mind-blowingly crazy. And the best part was that I got to be there with these awesome kids. My time in Europe was quickly coming to a close and I probably didn't quite realize yet just how much I was going to miss these guys. With my classes having ended and my life not quite back to normal, these kids had become my only family, my best friends, and the world to me for two weeks.
Needless to say, I wasn't really prepared to come home just yet.
But whether I was prepared or not, that next Tuesday morning I had a plane to catch at the Brussels airport. My two months of travel were finally starting to wear on me and I looked forward to my series of flights home with exhaustion, excitement, and a little apprehension. For the first time in my two months of being abroad I was going to be traveling entirely alone (not counting that one time I got lost in Berlin). It wouldn't have been nearly as frightening if I were just flying straight to the States, but I'm not nearly that wealthy. No, my return flight plan was very similar to my outbound one. First I was flying from Brussels to Iceland, then from there to New York, and then finally home. And, like my original flight plan, I had some rather long layovers.
Iceland
While nervous about the next two-three days of flying on my own, I was also a very different person than the one who'd been dropped off by her family at the SLC airport just a few months prior. I was ready to figure things out and start seeing the world for myself. My layover in Iceland was again going to be very lengthy and overnight. I was determined not to sleep in that airport one more time and booked myself a hostel a few days before leaving.
Despite my determination to be a brave world traveler, I arrived in Keflavik a little fidgety with a slip of paper with the adress of my hostel written on it crumpled in my sweaty hands. I'd never ridden in a taxi by myself before and I was afraid the driver might look like a serial killer and not be able to speak English. However, my paranoia was unfounded and my taxi driver, a nice old lady who spoke very good English, cheerily drove me to my lodgings. I was also relieved, by the end of the drive to know that I had indeed pulled enough krone out of the ATM to pay for the ride and would undoubtedly have enough to get back the next morning. I felt very accomplished after this and excitedly checked in to my hostel. The receptionist was extremely friendly and, after hearing I was only spending one night in town, quickly informed me of the public bus system (absolutely free of charge) and how to get into town and back.
I was more than excited by this time - I love public transit, especially when it's free - and I wanted more than anything to go exploring. I surveyed my accommodations first, but was out the door again very quickly.
It was early afternoon and, as expected, Iceland is pretty cold. It never really rained while I was out and about, but Keflavik is right next to the ocean and I think the air is probably constantly filled with mist. My first goal once I got to town was to find something to keep me a little warmer.
I bought this hat from a little grocery store at the end of the bus line. Then I wandered for a while, trying to find this Viking museum I'd read about. Unfortunately it was pretty late in the afternoon and I soon realized that the museum would be closed by the time I finally found it. I didn't mind that much though. I was walking around Iceland, for heaven's sake! For the first time in two months I was completely by myself and on my own. I had the ocean on one side of me and adorable Icelandic children playing in their driveways on the other. I was pretty content with the world.
After walking back to the grocery store I got KFC for dinner (I know, very exotic) and waited at the bus stop for quite about an hour to get back to the hostel.
Side note about the hostel I stayed at. It's called Start Hostel and while it's not directly inside Keflavik itself, I would highly recommend it to anyone traveling to Iceland. It was clean and the beds were incredibly comfy. They also divide the rooms into boys dorms and girls dorms, so that made me a little less terrified of staying in a hostel for the first time. I also had very nice roommates from Germany. And it was cheap. Probably the best first hostel experience I could've asked for.
Anyway, I didn't sleep a whole lot that night, partially because I was worried I wouldn't wake up in the morning to catch my taxi back to the airport, partially because the sun doesn't go down until after midnight, and partially because I was more happy and excited about life than I had been in a very long while.
The morning did come and I woke up well-before my alarm. I tried to pack as quietly as possible without waking my roommates and went to wait in the lobby, where I proceeded to collect as many travel pamphlets as possible. The taxi soon showed up and I was to begin the final stretch of my travels home. When I got to the airport there was literally no one line and so had a fairly lax and calm security experience (always the worst part of traveling). I then had a few hours to wander around and spend my last few hundred krona. I bought a pin, some chocolate, a Tintin book, a wool tie for my brother and some lunch.
While the rest of my day was (literally) the longest day of my life, it wasn't all that interesting, so I'll be brief. My flight to JFK was long and a little painful. Mostly because my backpack didn't fit under my seat, so I had to put it in the overhead bins where I couldn't get to it as easily and so didn't have anything to do and also because I had some very interesting neighbors. One of which periodically doused himself in the foulest-smelling lotion I've ever had the misfortune to smell and the the other would sporadically go into a panic-attack where I was convinced he was either going to accidentally punch me in the face or have a heart attack and die. Needless to say, that was not one of the better flying experiences I've had. Oh, and I also had to fill out a customs form for the first time and I was mildly terrified that I might've brought back something illegal and would have all my belongings confiscated and arrested on suspicion of being a terrorist. (I sometimes worry a little too much). But, no questions were asked, I was not put in airport prison, and I finally found myself back on American soil. I arrived to JFK airport early Wednesday morning and could finally call my parents without having to be connected to the internet. And then I waited. My layover in New York was about 14 hours, I believe and I didn't have a whole lot to do. I knew JFK was a much busier airport than KEF, so I didn't dare go outside into the city and then try to come back in time later, so I just got myself some food, found my gate and sat on the floor. It was excruciating and I was exhausted, but eventually evening came and I found myself on my last flight to Salt Lake City on an airplane with slightly larger storage capabilities and some very agreeable neighbors.
And then, I was home. Just like that. It was weird, being in such a familiar place knowing I had been in Europe and Iceland and New York just in the past few days. It took some adjusting and to be honest, I think, even now, I'm still trying to adjust, but life soon returned to normal . . . ish. Except I now find myself with cravings for waffles and German pizzas and an almost unbearable wanderlust. I got a taste of the world and I discovered that it was beyond delicious. I can't wait to see what my future has in store.
Thus concludes Amanda's Adventures Abroad. Sorry that took forever and this is probably way longer than anyone would like to read, but I feel rather accomplished finally getting this down in words. I couldn't tell all of my experiences of course, but most of you are probably glad for that.
It really was, though, one of the best experiences of my life. Travel does amazing things to your perspective and soul. I highly, highly, highly recommend trying it out sometime. (And take me with you, if you do!)
And I'm back! And not even a day has passed since my last post. I'm on a roll!
So, after Amsterdam, we finally made it to . . .
Berlin!
Of all the major cities we went to, Berlin is the one I could see myself settling down in. It's not nearly as crowded as anywhere else, it's quiet, relatively cheap, has loads of great parks, tons of fantastic museums, non-confusing public transportation. I'm not much of a city girl, but I learned to love Berlin pretty quickly. Which was fortunate seeing as we were to be there for the next month.
I won't go day by day as that would take far too much time, be pretty boring, and also impossible since I can't remember what I did every day.
So I'll just talk about some of the places I saw and mostly about the things I learned and discovered.
My Apartment
We lived on the fourth (fifth by American floor counting systems) floor and there was no elevator. While I enjoyed the exercise of going up and down those stairs everyday, I soon grew to resent it a little. You see, when leaving your apartment takes that much effort it becomes a lot more difficult to dash out whenever you feel like it. You have to sit there and think about whether going on a walk to explore your surroundings is really worth getting up and going down all those stairs for and then having to go all the way back up them when you get back. I felt like it was stifling. Then again, if it didn't take that much effort, I probably wouldn't have spent nearly as much time on homework than I did. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Besides, living that high up we were able to discover the door that led to the roof of our building and watch a brilliant sunset on our last night.
Other than the whole stairs thing, I really loved our apartment. It certainly wasn't the fanciest or the biggest, but it was quaint. We had a gas stove you had to light with lighters (we never actually figured out the oven, though) and no dishwasher. We also didn't have a dryer, so doing laundry was always interesting. Luckily we had a pretty big bathroom to set up drying racks to hang our clothes on.
Buying food was also pretty interesting. We had a great grocery store called Kaiser's just a block or so from our apartment and every Saturday there was a farmer's market down the road. It was fun trying to figure out exactly what we were buying some times and we had some good laughs at all the authentic "American" cuisine we could find.
Since we would only be there for a month it was difficult to buy food because we couldn't stock up on anything. My staple for the first few weeks was cheese and toast and then Ramen for the last few (Ramen is much fancier than normal in Germany, ok?). Also, pepper became the everything spice for all my meals. It was the only flavoring in the apartment and it wasn't really worth it to buy spices I would have to leave behind in a few weeks anyway. (I did buy Paprika for a potato salad, though).
Tiergarten
Enough about my apartment and the little things. Let's talk about Germany and its incredible parks. Tiergarten being a pretty prominent one. This is one of the reasons I loved Berlin as a city so much. Right in the middle of all the hustle and bustle you have Tiergarten. An enormous, incredibly green park full of rabbits and mice and trees and, especially on Sundays, true European sunbathers. A day at Teirgarten was always an adventure. It felt a lot like New England to me with the humidity and all the vivid greens.
Every Sunday our group would have a picnic after church in Tiergarten because it was right next to our chapel. I really enjoyed those. For once I think we all acknowledged that we were people having fun in a foreign country, not just art students.
There were also several smaller parks all around the city. A lot of them had permanent ping-pong tables and a few even had trampolines. We learned that safety regulations in Europe are much different than in America.
Museum Island
They have an entire island devoted to museums. How cool is that! My favorites were probably the Gemaldegalerie and the Hamburger Bahnhoff (these two museums are actually two of the few not on museum island . . . whoops. Museum Island itself is still very cool). The Gemaldegalerie was full of paintings that would make any art history enthusiast swoon. Durer, Van Eyck, Rembrandt, Vermeer! It was fantastic. And then the Hamburger Bahnhoff was all about contemporary art which I'm starting to love more and more and become a little more familiar with. My favorite piece from there was probably this giant installation called "Garden Sculpture". At first, it's quite impressive, though up close there are some gross-ish details. But still, I like it over all. It made me think of the crazy forts I always wanted to build as a kid.
Honestly, I don't think the artist's intention was to make me think that way, but I've come to the conclusion that I don't really care a whole lot about what the artist wants me to think. I'll think what I want and base my opinion of the piece on that. As an artist I don't want to control what or how people think when they look at my art, I just want them to think and connect with it however they want. I think that's why I don't like abstract art so much. I feel like it's a little too open. The viewer isn't quite sure what the artist is saying and they don't know what to make of it for themselves. It could go anywhere. I like art to have a clear beginning at least. Something the viewer can start with and then from there take it wherever they want.
Weekend Trips
About every other weekend our professors would organize some sort of trip or event for us to go to. One weekend we went to Sachsenhausen, a concentration camp from World War II. That was an interesting experience. I've heard hundreds of accounts about the grim and depressing feelings that linger in those kinds of places. I found my experience to be much different. The day was sunny, birds and butterflies flew all around. Most of the bunkers had been removed, making the camp feel very open and airy, you didn't really notice the barbed wire-topped walls in the distance. It was a little surreal. I did, however, have a small moment of awful realization inside the morgue building where you could see the biopsy rooms and read about the terrible ways the doctors would experiment on the prisoners' bodies. I wanted to throw up.
Moving on to more pleasant adventures. On another weekend our professors bought us all tickets to the Botanischer Nacht, a night of live music and fireworks at the Botanical Garden. That was fun in a very interesting way. We wandered around for a while and discovered some very interesting events going on - some bands, a play, a lady on stilts, something to do with wine, fairies. Also, all of this in German, so everything was just that much more interesting. Anyway, after a while we got some food (I had some very delicious bruschetta) and decided to sit and wait for the fireworks. For me, those were the highlight of the night. We were all kind of bummed that we were missing the Fourth of July in America, but the firework show at the Botanischer Nacht put any other firework show I've seen to shame. They had the fireworks synchronized to classical music which they blasted throughout the garden so you could hear it over the booms of the fireworks. I have a little bit of video of it over on our family blog if you're interested. It was great.
Our last weekend trip was to Park Sansouci. Another enormous park, but this one had palaces in it. It was here that I fell in love with ceiling decorations (and began to question the way museums are run). My favorite ceiling, however, wasn't in any of the palaces, but in the church.
Ah, I love it so much. I want my ceiling to look like this.
Throughout our whole trip we often talked in class about museums and the way they're set up. I love museums, but I've always been a little frustrated with how inaccessible they seem. Sure, you can see a cool artefact and read a little half-sentence blurb about what it's made of or you can shuffle around a palace in special slippers with security guards constantly breathing down your neck, but what do you actually get out of those experiences. Some sore feet and a nervous disorder? We read an article in preparation for this trip called "The Loss of the Creature" by Walker Percy (check it out, it's absolutely fantastic: Loss of the Creature). This is one of my favorite quotes from it.
"The archaeologist who puts his find in a museum so that everyone can see it accomplishes the
reverse of his expectations. The result of his action is that no one can see it now but the archaeologist. He would have done better to keep it in his pocket and show it now and then to strangers."
I don't propose we do away with museums, but I think they take themselves too seriously. In their effort to protect and preserve, they shut out the very people they're trying to protect and preserve these artefacts for. In my opinion, museums need to be more hands on and fun. In the example of these palaces I went to see, I think we should do away with the velvet ropes and security guards. Hire an orchestra to play Bach and Beethoven, throw balls and masquerades. Maybe allow people to get in for free if they dress as servants. I know that's a little elaborate, but think how much more people would gain from that experience; living like someone from that time period, just for an evening. I think it'd be fantastic.
The Studio and Art Itself
For our time in Berlin our professors rented out a studio at The Wye. It was so exciting to be able to work there. The space was very open with windows on both sides. My favorite pastime was sitting in the windowsills and thinking. And boy did I have a lot to think about. Never in my life have I done so much thinking about one thing for so long. I was surrounded by art and artists for the first time in my life. It was difficult being thrown into a life that I discovered I didn't really know anything about. It was hard - so many of these people have been in the artist culture their entire life, growing up in the galleries of their parents or cousins or uncles. Even those who hadn't had at least been in the art program for some time already. I had just gotten in a couple months before. It shook me up, but I somehow managed to stay on my feet. I learned so much in that short amount of time. My art was both attacked and encouraged and through it all I think I discovered the direction I want to go with my career. I also discovered the directions I did not want to go. For one, I refuse to do purely abstract art. Never again. I can't connect with it and it shows. There's just no personality in abstract art for me. And I want my art to have personality.
First piece I completed for my Mixed-Media class. I don't like it. Too abstract.
There's an interesting story behind these next two pieces. So I really struggled with my Mixed-Media class. My professor is very into abstract and is not a fan of "narrative". I was getting really worried about the class, so I went to talk to him about this one assignment. I don't remember much of the conversation, but by the end I decided to do what I wanted to do, even though I knew it didn't fit the parameters of the assignment exactly. For once I had an idea that I was excited about and I was going to go for it. However, self-doubt crept in at the worst moment - the night before the pieces were due. I knew I had to finish what I had started, but I was devastated and terrified about the ensuing critique. I wanted to die the next morning when I put these on the wall. My class had nice things to say about them for the most part, but my professor was less impressed. He wanted to make clear to me that illustration and art are not the same thing. While a painful experience (and part of the reason I almost didn't pass the class), I eventually grew to be very happy with the decision I made. This experience sparked some passionate opinions. I do think illustration and work that seems illustrative is art. I think it deserves to be shown in galleries, I think it can evoke the same kinds of emotions or thoughts or feelings that any abstract piece could. Sure there are stories connected to these pieces, but #1, the pieces aren't subservient to a narrative, you don't need to know what's going on to looks at them and #2, why should that change their value or importance anyway?
I was incredibly embarrassed that I handed these in for a while, but for once I've gotten over that sort of embarrassment. It was daring, and while not a total success, it opened my thoughts to trying more of what I believe in and not just doing whatever my professors think is right.
My final piece (to the right) went over a little better. I believed in it and miraculously my professor did, too. He could tell that I was finally enjoying myself with this and he approved of the subject matter and theme (and lack of narrative). Unfortunately it still isn't finished and the assignment was supposed to include two pieces. Whoops. I'm really amazed I didn't outright fail that class. However, I learned tons and developed an immense amount as an artist. I actually have opinions! And passion! (It's been a fear of mine that I'm too apathetic about the world, it was great to finally realize that I do care about something and that it happens to be the major I possibly somewhat carelessly picked.)
While my Mixed-Media class was full of frustration and dread, my New Genre class, on the other hand, was full of excitement and fun. I thought contemporary art was kind of lame (I thought it was full of abstract snootiness), but I soon learned how wrong I've been.
I could go on and on about all I learned about installation and video art and sound pieces, but I'll refrain (for reasons which will be explained in due time).
This class helped open my mind in much more fun ways. While the projects were difficult and caused me a lot of anxiety, I was able to produce fairly decent work, though even when I didn't, I knew I was learning and that I wasn't a failure because of it. It was a class of experimentation. My professor knew that not everyone was acquainted with contemporary artists and their work. It was one of the best classes I've ever taken. And I'm very proud of the work I did for it.
Installation: The Other Tenants
My final for that class was a video piece called "Choosing Between Two Chairs". It has to do with the frustration I feel when asked to make a decision. People often mistake my inability to decide for apathy, but that's not true. I do care about both choices, but in my mind I can't come up with which is the better of the two (or three or four or whatever). They just look like two chairs with very similar functions. This piece also was inspired by the choice I had to make in going on the Study Abroad. I know it's kind of boring (please don't feel like you have to watch the whole thing) but I feel like it's one of the most honest pieces of art I've made.
And now it's time to move on from Berlin. I miss it so much! But next time I'll talk about Copenhagen, Brussels, and Iceland in Amanda's Adventures Abroad Part 3.
I feel as though I have to begin all my posts with an apology. This time, it's not just because I haven't written a post in two months, but because I didn't write a post in the two months I was traveling abroad and actually doing something exciting with my life. I'm sorry.
Now that that's out of the way, though, I can make up for those two months. It likely would've been more exciting if I could've written about all these things when they happened, but fortunately/unfortunately every day of my Study Abroad experience was pretty much packed. Whether I was travelling, doing art, or visiting museums, I really don't think I had enough time to write good, engaging blog posts. So now that I'm home and not in school just yet, I figured I'd use this rare free time of mine to fill people in on what's been going on in my life these past two months. (If you're really curious, I did make a blog video for my family's blog every week - another reason I had no time for this blog - and you can view those over at greenegrassgrows.blogspot.com)
So, for those who might not know, I spent most of my summer in Europe this year on a study abroad. The majority of our time was spent in Berlin, Germany, but we also did a fair amount of travelling before and after. It was a life-changing experience and I want to share with you guys some of the highlights and the things I learned.
Paris
The program began on June 23 in Paris, France. After almost three days of flying, I finally arrived to our hotel around midnight that night. Just getting there was rather exciting. I'm not exactly a frequent flyer and I've never flown by myself before. Luckily I met up with two other students from the group in the Salt Lake airport and it turned out they had nearly the same flight plans as I did. It was definitely a blessing as there were some complications with one of the flights and it ended up being delayed by about 7 hours, I believe. And then, when we finally arrived in Paris, my bags had gotten lost and our taxi driver didn't speak any English and had no idea where our hotel was. I have no idea how I would've dealt with those situations if I'd been completely by myself.
We eventually made it to the hotel and with time enough to get a decent-ish amount of sleep before the real adventures began.
Paris was crazy. Everyday we were running from museum to cathedral to cafe to museum. We were given assignments that very first morning at 8 am. I was overwhelmed, but in a good way. Yes, I complained about all the museums we were required to visit and the responses we had to write and the art we had to make, but I secretly enjoyed it all. Mostly. What real complaining I did was stimulating complaining. It got me thinking about art and why I did it and why other people do it. I began to discover a little more about who I really was and what my own thoughts were on art. At the time I had no clue that in the next several weeks I was about to start unearthing some passionate opinions and crazy ideas. In Paris, though, the only major discover I made was my love for architecture. The wrought iron! The shingles! The rain spouts!
And some of this stuff has been there for centuries! Before machines or cranes or computers. I have such respect for old buildings. You can feel the love and the time and the effort that was required. I wish things were still made this way.
Now, before I drag on for far too long, I need to remember I only spent four days in Paris and I still have many more cities to cover. If you're interested, I made a much better video about my trip getting out to Paris and all the things I did there on our family blog.
Brussels
The land of waffles and little peeing boys. Brussels was a major change from Paris. Paris is certainly well worth the visit, but all the art and history crowded into it's borders accounts for some crowded streets and non-too-cheap prices. In Brussels I felt like I could breath again. This may be in part because we were there for only one whole day and that day happened to be a Monday. You see, museums don't open on Mondays. I know it's a strange thing for an artist to say, but I was relieved. I finally had a chance to wander and window-shop, without too much worrying about how many museums my professors wanted me to see or what paintings I was supposed to look at. We were free to be nothing but tourists. (Well, I was supposed to be working on art, which I did somewhat, but perhaps not as much as I could have . . .)
In Brussels I was finally able to wander. In Paris the group I was with always had an agenda (which was good for me, otherwise I would've gotten nothing done), we always had to be here or there and had to get places as quickly as possible. I don't like travelling that way. I tend to shut down and sometimes get a little moody. But in Brussels there were no agendas. On Monday morning we went to a flea market where I bought some old books to use in collage and an adorable miniature French-Dutch dictionary (I don't know either of those languages, I was merely enchanted by the look of it). Afterwards some of us split off from this larger group we had been with and meandered around the city. Towards later afternoon/evening we tried to find a high point in the city to watch the sunset. On our way, we discovered a cathedral. It was beautiful. So we went in and discovered, to our luck, that there was an organ and choir concert just about to start. I don't like taking pictures inside cathedrals and churches very much - it feels disrespectful - but I had to pull out my phone and record a little of the concert. The way the sounds echoed in that enormous space filled your soul and resonated in your chest. I'm not one for noise, I prefer silence and quiet, but I could've sat there and listened for hours.
Unfortunately we didn't have hours and we still wanted to see the sunset. Plus, the concert ended whether I wanted it to or not. So we continued our search for some place tall and we found some stairs above a public garden. A peaceful ending to a peaceful day.
A final note on Brussels: where Paris enchanted me with it's flying buttresses and colorful gables, Brussels got me with its doors and surprisingly charming graffiti.
Absolute favorite door. Ever.
Amsterdam
Amsterdam, as much as I don't like to admit, was most definitely not love at first sight. The canals and buildings were pretty, but the streets were crowded and dirty. It wasn't as bad as Paris, though, but I think I was mostly unhappy with Amsterdam because it wasn't Monday anymore. We suddenly had a grocery list of museums we had to go to again. We had an agenda. We started off on a bad note getting on the wrong form of public transportation and ending up who knows where. I was kind of excited to get lost for the first time, but my companions not so much and as I have learned, stress and unhappiness is catching.
The first day was mostly unpleasant for me. And it's mostly my own fault. But there's nothing that some good food won't cure. And that's just what we got for dinner that night.
By the next morning I was ready to give Amsterdam a second chance and it did not disappoint me. We hit the major museums that day. The Rijksmusem and the Stedlijk. I thoroughly enjoyed both and my eyes began to open to the wonders of contemporary art.
One of my favorite pieces from the Stedlijk. I don't remember the artist, though . . . :(
Amsterdam turned out to be all right in the end. I'm glad we went there and I'd like to go again, someday.
Well, I was hoping to fit my whole trip into one blog post, but I'm afraid that isn't going to happen. Two months is a long time and I don't want to rush the good bits. So, hopefully, I'll put the rest of my incredible journey into Part 2 for tomorrow.
