VTS

I've been thinking a lot about the institutionalization of art. I feel like there's this disconnect between the way art is presented and the engagement that art institutions purport to promote. A lot of the people I've spoken to who say they don't like art or don't enjoy visiting museums often feel polarized by Art or by Art Institutions. When they enter an exhibition and are confronted with a sea of information that they're supposed to already know in order to understand what they're looking at, it automatically sets off this defensive thought process that inhibits them from having any sort of real connection with the work. There's this inherent dichotomy in art presentation that places the Art Object on an unknowable pedestal. Essentially, visitors are told, "This is Art--you cannot know it; you cannot touch it; as a non-artist, the closest connection you can hope to have to this object is through reverence or ownership." That is so not what art is really about! There has to be some way to engage people with work that doesn't end up making them feel insecure, invalid, or insufficient.

Well, today I participated in a VTS (Visual Thinking Strategies) session, and it was completely revelatory. Basically, the facilitator chooses a work of art and waits for the group of viewers to start discussing the work. The facilitator's job is to validate and reiterate the thoughts expressed by the viewer and encourage deeper thinking. For example, if someone says, "This makes me think of winter," the facilitator would respond, "what do you see here that makes you say that?" It's like a physically acted out formal analysis, and it is one of the most empowering things I've ever experienced. It makes the viewer realize that they have things to say about a work of art, and not only that, but that the things they have to say are completely valid! Rather than pragmatically imposing a set of defined meanings on an audience, VTS allows viewers to interpret pieces in a way that allows them to build their own meaning, and more often than not, the meanings they intuit are spot on. Works of art speak for themselves; they speak to people; they engage people in thought processes that they haven't necessarily considered before. That's the entire point of their creation, and that is exactly the kind of experience that people want to open themselves up to. But when the viewer is made to feel right off the bat like they're imposing, or like they inherently don't belong because they never got an MFA, that wonderful, fulfilling relationship is cut off before it can even start.

Every artist's mission is different, but I think it's safe to say that we all hope the things we create will mean something to someone. We want people to connect with our work--that's one of the main reasons we create things in the first place. The majority of the artists I've spoken to or have heard speak have some anecdote about how the greatest critique they ever received came from a child who innately understood how to interact with their artwork without being inhibited by social convention. Kids have a way of interacting with the world that is still about building connections rather than maintaining differences. I saw an installation at Mass MoCA last spring that perfectly illustrated this point: it was a room full of cushions and books, with shiny staples and multicolored wire creeping over the floor and up the walls. Adults walking in felt compelled to appreciate the environment at a distance, taking in the aesthetic choices the artist had made, making judgments; their kids on the other hand dove onto the cushions, picked up the books and started reading. They ran their fingers over the variously textured fabrics, rolled around on the carpeted floor. They totally got the point, and their parents couldn't even see it! It's because their parents have been systematically conditioned to engage with art in a certain way--stand at a distance, appreciate, don't touch, move on. You get yelled at if you do anything else--an alarm might even be set off if you get too close. But the only way you can truly hope to engage with/ understand a work of art is by getting right up close to it to see how it's made (the Process Gallery at the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln, MA provides a fantastic experience that breaks down that barrier and actually invites visitors to see how the art they just viewed was produced: http://www.decordova.org/art/processgallery/aec.html). If you haven't gone to art school, you haven't had a professor tell you that, so you assume the museum personnel know what they're talking about and have your best interests in mind. But they don't--they're concerned with keeping the Art safe from whatever harm you might inflict on it. Yes, they want to educate you, and ideally they want you to leave having had a profound experience with a work of art...just as long as you didn't get too close.

My point is that there is something profoundly wrong about this setup. People are clearly capable of having brilliant moments of clarity and connection, and they should be encouraged to have those moments with art most especially. When conservation is the primary concern, those moments of profundity are tabled in the name of some warped systemic interplay, and that's not right. Yes, artists want to live on through their work, and keeping the objects they created in pristine condition for as long as possible helps achieve that, but if the preservation of those objects prevents people from having an experience, then there's no real point in preserving the object in the first place because its purpose is no longer being realized. Art objects are meant to be engaged with; people want to engage with works of art. It's only when some constructed thing gets in the way that those facts fail to coalesce into a memorable experience...Or the art might just be bad, which is another issue entirely...