Author: James Lee

Hunger by Ben Shahn 1946

Ben Shahn’s Hunger was completed in 1946, one year after the conclusion of World War II. This work constitutes conceptual art because it responds to the horrors of the war. It features a little boy with darkened facial features, hollowed eyes, and noticeably protruding neck tendons. The tempera paint used allows Shahn to clearly distinguish these features through the lighting. Shahn uses uniform colors in the rest of the painting, which allows the viewers to solely focus on the boy’s face. His face alone gives off feelings of sadness, longing, and desperation–key characteristics of those experiencing the war. Shahn once considered Hunger to be too abstract, but he later realized that it accurately depicted the “sense of emptiness and waste that the war gave me.” It would, therefore, be more accurate to call it a mimesis because it imitates a starving child and suggests a specific interpretation. 

Shahn was a political leftist, and as a result, conservative Congress members vehemently opposed the US State Department’s purchasing of Hunger in 1946. They believed that Shahn was trying to depict Americans as “despondent, broken-down, or of hideous shape…” Hunger, however,  doesn’t explicitly lean towards any particular end of the political spectrum, instead expressing the universal dissatisfaction towards the war. Hunger also covers a broad theme: the impact of the war on those who lived through or still feel the effects of it. Its goal is to be unpleasant to look at and evoke a feeling of pity or sadness from the viewer. Taken into context, it tries to convince the viewer that the cause of these feelings, World War II, should never be repeated in history.

The clever dark shading in Hunger gives a sense of desperation and hopelessness. Because it touches on the negative emotions surrounding the war, Hunger is effective in creating some meaningful opposition towards it. While patriotism and purpose may sometimes make us feel obligated to fight in a war, it’s important to realize that it also brings the worst of humanity, and Shahn highlights this very effectively. The color scheme that he uses is relatively simple so as to not overwhelm the viewer with details, but the one portion of the painting that it does emphasize elicits a powerful response from the viewer. It’s easy to throw your support for something that you are not directly involved in, but once you experience it firsthand or gain the perspective of someone else’s experience, it becomes much more difficult.

New York City as we know it, is a city that is full of culture, history, and diversity. Known as the capital of the world, some of the most influential aspects of this city often go unappreciated. The vibrant diversity of the city and its surroundings are abundant, from the busy financial district of Wall Street, to the calming nature trails located in Central Park, to even the vast beaches of Staten Island. Studded not only with skyscrapers but also vibrant neighborhoods, New York is definitely a wonder that deserves appreciation and needs to be reflected through different angles. With this project, we want to portray the inner workings of New York by showing people a different side of New York. Times Square and the Statue of Liberty are familiar to viewers across the globe, but as New Yorkers, there is much more to the city than just these landmarks.

In order to fully capture the essence of the city, we plan to focus on the different types of architecture present, nature in parks and other recreational sites, as well as street photography, capturing the people and the street environment. At its core, New York City is a culmination of all the people that live here. Everything around the city reflects our lifestyles and the things that we value. This was the inspiration for using an unconventional approach of taking photos of New York from various different mediums to accurately represent “Life Through the Eyes of New York”. We plan on using three different mediums; instant film, professional camera, and cell phone camera; to look at the city through different “lenses”.

We intend to use the instant film to capture moments regarding the people of New York City. We want to photograph human moments because we feel that these are the most powerful in terms of capturing the essence of everyday New York. It’s the core of everything in the city, and so we felt it important to allocate a portion of our project for this purpose. We feel that an instant camera would be appropriate for this purpose because they are designed to capture unreplicatable moments and snapshot them. The goal is to capture as many as what Henri Cartier-Bresson describes as “decisive moments” as possible.

The professional, EOS 70D Canon Camera, will be used to take pictures with the power to influence and connect. Since this camera allows us to take photos of optimal quality, we can highlight certain details in our photos and somewhat dictate what the viewer’s impression of the photo will be. We plan on each of these photos having a clearly-defined punctum that tells our viewers something meaningful, and we can achieve this through multiple takes and photo editing. 

Lastly, the photos taken by the iPhone7 plus will capture raw, unedited moments in the city. The subjects are the scenic views that are typically underappreciated. It includes the architecture and nature that cannot be found elsewhere. This is to help our viewers appreciate New York City as a work of art. While we want our viewers to see the city through the lenses of native New Yorkers, we also want them to make their own interpretations, even if they’ve never been to some parts of the city before.

Collectively, we hope these images make up a holistic view of New York and our audience takes a multifaceted approach to it. We hope that our viewers will become more aware of all aspects of the city and have a greater appreciation for its diversity and associate New York with this, as opposed to the perception of it being a “luxury” city. We believe this is especially important today, at a time when our country is becoming increasingly polarized. We strongly believe that photography is a powerful means to foster unity among us because it captures the essence of humanity. Hopefully by showing every one of the city’s different sides, we can increase awareness of the people we live around and foster greater understanding among ourselves.

Beyond this, we want our viewers to appreciate the beauty of the city, beyond the tourist attractions that first come to mind. Being as large as it is, New York City has a large variety of different neighborhoods and locations that all have something aesthetic to offer. One thing that we’ve all learned from this class is that the city is a perfect art canvas, with forms of creative expression all around us. For those that didn’t have the privilege to take IDC, we wanted to share a little of our experience in the class by showcasing some of the art we saw around the city.

Photo Credit: Christian Gonzalez

JOURNEYMEN

The epitome of New York, it is not

New York, the city that never sleeps

New York, where you can be alone in a city of eight million

New York, where tunnels guide us on a journey far from where we start

New York, where night brings a different journey

Few wander here at this time of night.

Few know that the subway is not just ours

Few realize, that even when we are alone, we are not alone

The lights race towards the abyss, shining above all else

The tracks shine bright, not as bright but just as proud

The pipes snake alongside, following the lights

Their journeys are often overlooked, hidden by ourselves

Their journeys aren’t ours

Their journeys are irrelevant because we are concerned with the journeyman that will help us on our journey

Only when we are alone…

Only when I am alone, can I see

They are all on the same journey as us

They are all heading into the dark, unforgiving abyss.

The portal that leads home

Lonely nights are not really lonely nights

Lonely nights only mean the absence of ourselves

There’s still the cool autumn air, enveloping our faces

There’s still the eerie quiet, filling our ears with soundless bliss

There’s still the light, that even with the abyss so near gives us a sense of warmth

They give us hospitality–a much-needed break on our journey

And then there’s the eventual rumble, the thunder, that comes as our journeyman roars into view

Original Text: How To Succeed In 251 (Carnegie Mellon University)

Part 1

What I want, in short, is that my (mobile) image, buffeted among a thousand shifting photographs, altering with situation and age, should always coincide with my (profound) “self”; but it is the contrary that must be said: “myself” never coincides with my image; for it is the image which is heavy, motionless, stubborn (which is why society sustains it), and “myself” which is light, divided, dispersed; like a bottle-imp, “myself” doesn’t hold still, giggling in my jar: if only Photography could give me a neutral, anatomic body, a body which signifies nothing! – Chapter 5, Page 12

I found this excerpt interesting because while it unnecessarily complicates the process of taking a picture of oneself, it helps make sense of the thought processes involved that we take for granted. My interpretation of the text is that Barthes believes a photograph should always accurately portray the true, inherent qualities of the subject, but this never happens because the subject puts up a facade. The general idea, then, makes a lot of sense. Typically when we take pictures of ourselves, we intend to share it with people we know. This necessitates that we portray ourselves in a certain way (whether it be accurate or inaccurate), depending on what kind of reaction we want to receive. It’s interesting to note how different this is from the principal purpose of photography: to capture an exact representation of a particular moment.

Part 2

The effect it produces upon me is not to restore what has been abolished (by time, by distance) but to attest that what I see has indeed existed. Now, this is a strictly scandalous effect. Always the Photograph astonishes me, with an astonishment which endures and renews itself, inexhaustibly. Perhaps this astonishment, this persistence reaches down into the religious substance out of which I am molded; nothing for it: Photography has something to do with resurrection: might we not say of it what the Byzantines said of the image of Christ which impregnated St. Veronika’s napkin: that it was not made by the hand of man, acheiropoietos? – Chapter 35, Page 82

The idea of photography somewhat being a vehicle of resurrection is interesting, but I feel it would be more accurate to call it a lens on the past (provided, of course, the photographer did not intentionally manipulate the details of the photo to spark a specific reaction). “Resurrection” implies that a photo is bringing a moment back to life, and while it does this to some extent, we cannot relive a moment just by looking at a photo. The only way a photo could enable us to relive a moment is if we were present at the time the photo was taken. It could then act as a catalyst for a chain reaction of memories associated with that moment. Otherwise, if we know nothing about a particular photo other than what we see, it is more like a lens — a snapshot of an event that only gives us partial information of the bigger picture.

Question

What distinguishes photography from other representations of art, like paintings (it seems that Barthes’ reflections on photography can easily be applied to non-photographic art)?

Image

Vasily Vereshchagin, A Resting Place of Prisoners, 1878-79

Gallery space acts as the backdrop for works of art featured in it. While we direct most of our attention towards the works of art themselves, the space around them helps set the tone of the artwork. In some cases, the space around it is even more critical in that the artwork would not be complete without its environment to complement it. Depending on the features of its gallery, a piece of art can be perceived differently.

The DC Moore Gallery on 22nd Street in Manhattan features a collection of contemporary and 20th Century American art. It has a shiny, wooden-plank floor and blank, white walls.

Most of the work in the galley like Yvonne Jacquette’s paintings of Daytime New York is spaced substantially apart, allowing the viewer to observe each painting in isolation. Daytime New York, in particular, is relatively isolated, situated at the edge of one of the walls. The white background doesn’t offer anything to the painting and allows the viewer to focus solely on what’s on the canvas: a skyscraper under construction, most likely in downtown Manhattan. Aside from another building bordering the right of the painting, the main skyscraper stands tall and in isolation–a similar dynamic to the painting in relation to the rest of the gallery. In this way, the painting is physically and virtually an accurate depiction of a skyscraper.

Another of Jaquette’s Daytime in New York paintings features a view of the Brooklyn Bridge coupled with some auxiliary buildings. Here, the white background forces the viewer to fully appreciate a snapshot of New York City’s environment in singularity, without any outside influences. The irony of the painting is that NYC is typically seen as a very busy area, with a lot of activities going on at once, but in the painting there is none–no cars, no people, and no seagulls flying across the river. In this painting, it appears the sun is setting and the city is settling from its usual hustle-bustle pace. The slight amber glow of the painting exudes comfort and relaxation.

Although most of the galleries we visited employed white backgrounds for the paintings, the JoAnne Artman Gallery on 22nd Street contained a section in the back featuring a yellow background. In this case, the artwork was ingrained with its background.

For instance, America Martin’s 2 Feathers in Violet and Beige blends well with the yellow background and is even accompanied by a soft, yellow sofa. Yellow exudes tranquility and comfort, and the relatively large size of the painting gives viewers the impression that the woman in the painting is watching over the entire room. She has a calm, motherly gaze that fits well with the overall mood of the painting. The fact that the area is dimly lit gives the impression of the painting being a familiar setting: late at night, at home, relaxing on the sofa.

Within the same area is Matt Devine’s a x b #3, an aluminum sculpture covered with a yellow powder coat. This sculpture does not fit with its background as well as 2 Feathers in Violet and Beige. While their only similarity is their matching colors, however, there may be a deeper reasoning behind this. a x b #3 can be classified as abstract art, since it’s not immediately obvious what it represents. Perhaps the anomaly was meant to blend in with the yellow backdrop, symbolizing how strange things appear in life, if we go looking for them. It’d be easy to miss this sculpture if it wasn’t being looked for. Or maybe Devine simply wanted his viewers to think hard about what his creation is.

In the middle of New York City’s Astor Place lies a peculiar sight: A giant steel, black cube balanced on one of its corners that surprisingly revolves! It’s not a perfect cube, however, and appears to actually be separated into eight smaller, individual cubes that have clearly defined outlines. Even each of the smaller cubes are imperfect, and have seemingly random but uniform trenches and protrusions running along their sides. The cube itself is situated on a black pedestal and is placed directly in the middle of the Astor Place block.

This public artwork is called Alamo (named after the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas) and was sculpted by Bernard (Tony) Rosenthal. Perhaps at first glance, it fits Kwon’s Art in Places paradigm, being a work of art with no inherent relationship with its surroundings. In its simplest form, it is a steel cube smack in the middle of a public area that serves no practical purpose, other than spinning. And yet it was so integral to the local community, that they successfully petitioned for it to remain in the square after it was scheduled to be taken down (it was originally a temporary artwork).

If we look back to the history of Astor Place, the cube’s presence becomes a little clearer. Astor Place used to be the home of the Astor Opera House, a popular destination for New York City residents for nightly entertainment. It is also the home of Cooper Union, where Abraham Lincoln gave an electrifying speech opposing the expansion of slavery. In more recent years, it has become a public gathering place.

A more accurate paradigm for Alamo would therefore be Art as Spaces. Alamo does indeed serve a purpose: to bring people together, even for a brief moment, and foster human interaction. The cube can be turned for a reason, and the fact that it is too heavy to be turned by one person fosters collaboration amongst its viewers. People must work together to turn the cube, and this makes for a pleasant experience, picture-taking opportunities, and a great way to have fun with friends or even strangers. The Alamo remains today a popular tourist attraction and, yes, no one can help but turn the cube!

Alamo itself does not give any indications as to who its creator is. Neither is there any evidence of its curator: the NYC Department of Cultural Affairs. Perhaps, though, it isn’t necessary to include these details, as this work of art serves a more practical purpose than to look pretty.

In nearby Union Square, there is another, larger work of art but this time in the form of a giant facade on the One Union Square building. It appears as if a wand is tapping into empty space, and a ripple effect is being emitted from the tip of the wand. There is a concentration of yellow particles near the tip of the wand, which abruptly decreases further away from the source. Towards the bottom of the facade, there is a (relatively) small rock with a clearly defined rough surface.

This work of art is called Metronome and was created by Kristin Jones and Andrew Ginzel. Technically, it fits in the Art in Spaces paradigm: according to Jones and Ginzel, it is “an investigation into the nature of time,” simultaneously representing the infinity and astronomical sequence as well as evoking contemplation of the dynamic flux of the city. There is even a clock directly adjacent to Metronome, day the current time of day.

This, however, is not immediately apparent to the typical viewer. The passerby may see this coming out of Union Square Park or the 4, 5, 6 train station, give it a quick glance, and then continue walking. There is no opportunity for interaction with Metronome because the facade is well out of reach, and the art itself does not exude any of the aforementioned qualities. Rather, it appears as a wand radiating light and ripples in water–beautiful, but serving no other purpose other than admiration. Therefore, it would be more appropriate to place Metronome in the Art in Places paradigm.

Like Alamo, Metronome does not give any indications of its creators or commissioners (Related Companies). Again, it leaves the viewer to search for some deeper meaning in the artwork. In this case, it is the enigma of time and the energy of New York City, though this is difficult to grasp for the average viewer.

The most obvious difference between Alamo and Metronome is that one is a sculpture that can be interacted with while the other is a facade hanging beyond the reaches of passersby. While Alamo goes well with the “gathering place” atmosphere of Astor Place, Metronome feels disconnected from Union Square and appears to be there just for looks. This very well may be the reason why Alamo is generally well-received while Metronome has been criticized as a “grotesque modern nightmare”. Still, both can be appreciated aesthetically and certainly are pleasing to admire from a distance.

Name: Lions in a Mountainous Landscape

Artist: Théodore Gericault

Culture: French

Date: 1818-1820

Medium: Oil Paint on Wood

Museum: The Metropolitan Museum of Art

What’s immediately striking about the lions is how desperate they seem. Despite being drawn as traditional lions (with proportionate limbs, torsos, and manes), they appear to be making almost human facial expressions. The central lion, for instance, has a look of anger or fear while the right-most lion exudes longing and desperation. Two of the other lions are painted laying down without any lighting on their entire bodies, giving the impression they are gloomy, hopeless, and exhausted.

Although the primary focus is on their faces, the central lion’s mane is also emphasized. It’s given an almost three dimensional shape with the brush strokes slightly protruding out of the painting and clearly defining the outline of the mane.

The lions reflect the overall “tone” of the landscape. The mountains in the background are painted a (very) dark blue, giving the painting a depressing feel–similar to how the lions are portrayed. There is also a hint of red horizon to the right of the painting, which suggests something chaotic occurring in the background.

It appears to me that the landscape is a reflection of how the lions feel: afraid, hopeless, and uncertain. The painting as a whole gives off a somber mood. As I was observing the painting, I wondered what the lions’ backstory is–what happened to them that made them seem so miserable. I also wondered what’s going on in the background, particularly in the red area on the right.