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.
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| Ambulatorio |
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:
Munoz' Protographs at the Jeu de Paume
Lugar a Dudas - "A Place for Doubts" - sorry, this page is mostly in Spanish
