Author: cailynkit (Page 1 of 2)

For this independent visit, I chose to go to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), and one exhibit that caught my attention was ED RUSCHA / NOW THEN. If anyone is interested in visiting, it’s available until January 13, 2024.

Ed Ruscha was an American artist, who produced work primarily from the mid-1900s to the late-1900s. A lot of his inspiration came from his journey from Oklahoma City to Los Angeles along Route 66 in 1956, while some just came from his thoughts. With over 200 pieces, this exhibit highlights Ruscha’s great level of intricacy in his life work and is the embodiment of the pop art movement. It includes popular post-war pieces with the obvious, title-recognized theme of past vs. present, as well as pieces simply reminiscent of the culture at the time.

Self

In 1967, Ruscha created Self, a pastel and gunpowder on paper artwork. Upon further research, Ruscha had gunpowder pellets in his studio that he soaked and evaporated to turn into a powdered drawing material. He used the pastel and gunpowder combination to create a smoky shading behind the cursive, ribbon-like “Self.” This gives the illusion that “Self” is another element on top of the paper and brings the word to life by giving it shape and body. It encourages introspection and questioning of your role in society, which definitely occurred in the 1960s, specifically in students with the rise of student protest movements. Reflecting on the use of gunpowder, I think it’s interesting that Ruscha chose to use this unique edition when he probably could’ve substituted it for another medium. However, I think it speaks to his attention to detail and care put into his artwork. Overall, it’s very intriguing to explore an artist’s stylistic choices and how they contributed to the piece as a whole.

Blue Collar Tech-Chem and The Old Tech-Chem Building

In 1992, Ruscha created the Blue Collar Tech-Chem, an oil on canvas artwork. Everything is painted in black or shades of gray, and the only things visible in this painting are two, plain walls of a building with “TECH-CHEM” printed on the side and the dark-colored sky in the background. This is painted from the perspective as if you’re driving down the highway looking at this from the window. From the title, we can decipher that this building is labor or industrialization-related, and the dark-colored sky could be a result of industrial emissions. The lack of activity and color gives the piece a very ominous, depressing feel and a sense of isolation. In 2003, Ruscha created its counterpart, The Old Tech-Chem Building. In this artwork, the isolated perspective remains, but the dark sky has been primarily replaced by bold red hues. There are added gaps in the plain wall, depicted by these gray rectangular shapes. Although it’s unclear if these are windows or a different architectural feature, it seems the once industrial building has turned into a different, corporate-style building. Most notably, you can see remnants of the “TECH-CHEM” logo, which has been replaced by a red “FAT BOY” logo on the front of the building. “FAT BOY” references the bombs dropped over Japan during World War 2, which were known as “Fat Man and Little Boy,” with the red sky showing the effects of the explosions, signifying danger and violence. I interpreted this as the evolution of American society, but our evolution is only built upon its cruel history, which can’t be erased. I also found myself thinking that while we may think that we’re constantly advancing our architecture, technology, etc. in reality, are we just creating more problems atop past ones?

When you enter the ED RUSCHA / NOW THEN exhibit, you’re surrounded by simpler, more typical pop art pieces, such as Self, which contain logos or single words. As you progress through, unusual pieces, such as Blue Collar Tech-Chem and The Old Tech-Chem Building, which contain landscapes, everyday objects, and seemingly confusing sayings are incorporated as well. The exhibit organization gives insight into an artist’s thought process–art begins as an opportunity to showcase personal eccentricity but as you mature, you find freedom in art as a way to express your political and cultural opinions. As I moved throughout the exhibit, I shifted from briefly stopping to observe and admire, to standing in front of pieces in a state of confusion and somewhat frustration from trying to make sense of them. I realized that although this exhibit is partially called NOW THEN, these are all significant, timeless artworks. These logos are still recognizable today, these words are embedded into the English language, and themes of self-reflection, historical darkness, etc. can be applied to any person or time period. Art can transform anything into a creative masterpiece for all generations.

The unconventionally comedic play, Ching Chong Chinaman by Lauren Yee, exemplifies the loss of cultural identity through the account of a very Americanized or “whitewashed” Chinese American family. The most notable example is their normalization of referring to Jinqiang as the “Chinaman” or mostly “Ching Chong,” regardless that this would be offensive to themselves as well. Additionally, each family member–Ed, Grace, and their children Desdemona and Upton–embodies certain characteristics that stand out as nonstereotypical. Honing in on the daughter Desdemona, her yearning to get into Princeton isn’t atypical, but unlike the stereotype, she is bad at math. 

Through Desdemona’s Princeton application process, we are able to analyze her character, or lack of character. When her brother, Upton, tells her that he uses Jinqiang to do his math homework, Desdemona initially disapproves. However, when she realizes she can take advantage of this to fix her poor Calculus grade, she disregards this violation and proves to be just as self-serving as Upton. Similarly, when answering the essay prompt “Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way” (21), she writes about Kim Lee Park, her Korean “independently sponsored child” (17). Kim appears in the scene to tell her story as an abandoned girl “headed for a life of emptiness and sadness” (21), narrating it as horribly tragic only so Desdemona can present herself as a savior, and segue into egotistical topics like her “near-perfect SAT score” (22). She even slaps Kim when her sob story isn’t long enough to meet her word count, when in reality she’s just exploiting Kim to mask her lack of cultural awareness and authentic experience.

It’s only during her Princeton alumni interview that Desdemona realizes her disconnect from her Chinese heritage. The Princeton alum sympathizes with the “hardships” she must’ve faced as a minority and a woman, even comparing her life to those of the women in the Joy Luck Club, a book and movie adaptation about the social and cultural struggles of Chinese immigrants. In an attempt to relate to her culture, she goes home and immediately listens to a Chinese lesson, watches the Joy Luck Club, and asks her dad Ed about their ancestors. When his answers are insufficient, she takes a DNA test only to discover she’s Mexican, then proceeds to engage in a tequila drinking game and throw herself a distasteful quinceañera. As I read this play, I thought back to Elena Franchi’s article “What is cultural heritage?”, and her description of it as “our belonging to a community” and “our bond to the past.” Although Desdemona’s parents clearly didn’t pass down tangible or intangible heritage to her, even when she strives to immerse herself in a culture, it’s so offputting and offensive to the true culture. She’s not trying to explore a community, she’s only concerned with “finding meaning” and being a “person of ‘color’ color” to make herself more appealing to Princeton.

After chasing an identity for so long, Desdemona’s parents tell her that she’s adopted and she’s not Chinese or Mexican, but Korean. I’m adopted too, so I’m familiar with feeling lost when it comes to your identity, or grappling with wanting to continue living the way that feels natural to you, the way you were raised, but also wanting to discover more about your background. In this moment I felt compassion for her and found her actions that followed–her fit of rage–justified. When destroying the persona she created, I interpreted that as her finally becoming content with being herself, as well as opening herself to opportunities for true self-discovery. Overall, I took Desdemona’s conflict and character development as a personal reminder to enjoy the life my parents and I have created here, but to continue educating and revisiting my roots as they are both a part of my identity.

Throughout history, refugee crises have remained a global issue. We’ve become acclimated to seeing headlines in the news about millions of people being displaced as a result of wars, political corruption, human rights injustices, and economic instability. The documentary Flee by Jonas Poher Rasmussen, hones in on one such account about a refugee named “Amin Nawabi” as he and his family escape Afghanistan. Rasmussen’s attention to detail and visual effects truly enhance the emotion felt while watching this documentary.

One interesting element is the use of television, both actual and animated examples. When including live television clips, they’re only shown in a small square frame with rounded edges, as if you’re watching these events and updates unfold in real time on a vintage television. This serves as an important reminder that this isn’t just an elaborate story, it’s a part of a greater historical event and many people have either endured similar or worse stories. Rasmussen also chooses to include seemingly unnecessary aspects of Amin’s daily life, such as watching Mexican soap operas on television, to further humanize his story. At 38 minutes and 15 seconds, he and his family were shown watching a show in which a pregnant woman was being thrown out of her house. Their show is interrupted when police bang on their door, asking to see their papers. To protect themselves, Amin’s family fearfully and quietly stand by, waiting for the police to leave. There are clear parallels between Amin’s family and the woman, as they’re both in a helpless situation and risk being displaced. This is another important message Rasmussen is trying to convey, that you may not realize it but even dramatized fictional stories you watch or read about could be someone else’s unfortunate reality.

Additionally, Rasmussen utilizes color, or lack thereof, in more sad and emotional memories. 14 minutes and nine seconds into the film, the Afghan police arrest Nawabi’s father. Besides the outline of the door and the people in this scene, there are not many other details. There’s even a lack of color where only dark army green, black, white, and shades of gray are present. The only noticeable detail is the constant movement of the colors through their change in texture–lines, strokes, and graininess. This makes it difficult to focus on what is occurring because it seems like there are all of these shadows moving and embodying the scene. These effects only emphasize the depressing and chaotic nature of having their family torn apart. Another instance is Amin’s family and others traveling from Russia to Sweden through human trafficking methods when a violent storm throws their small boat off course. They’re discovered by a Norwegian cruise ship, filling the scene with bright colors that encapsulate their hope that they will finally be saved after a long voyage. However, similar to the other scene, darkness–or in this case the shadow of the yacht–drowns out the color and hope when the officers on the yacht say that they will be sent back to Russia. I saw this as one of the most crucial points in the film because the viewer has the same sense of false hope that conditions will improve and it’s heartbreaking to feel it being taken away so quickly. Rasmussen’s choices effectively capture the characters’ emotions to attract viewer attention, draw on their sense of pathos, and lead them to a deeper, personal understanding of refugee hardships.

In her article On Photography, Susan Sontag states that photographs “do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it” and also describes them as “experience captured” (2). Whether it be an interesting cloud, a beautiful landscape, or a fun moment with those around you, photographs are meant to capture the world as it is, its natural beauty. However, with the emergence of social media, less emphasis has been placed on natural beauty and more on acquiring perfection. Social media culture has created pressure to only post pictures that are “aesthetically pleasing” or that “match your feed.” But sometimes you only realize after a moment has passed that your image isn’t picture perfect. That interesting cloud you saw may have an unappealing colored sky, that beautiful landscape has a person blocking a part of it, and the fun moment may be ruined when you dislike your physical appearance. The only way to make imperfect pictures social media worthy would be to edit them. Sontag mentions the notion that photographs can alter reality when she writes that they “get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out” (2). From editing lighting to body shape, “Photoshopping” has become a common practice and many celebrities or influencers have been exposed for “Photoshop fails”.

One recent example of a “Photoshop fail” is LSU gymnast Olivia Dunne, or @livvydunne. She’s become a Sports Illustrated model, gained some of the biggest NIL deals, and has a large social media presence because of her gymnastics talent and physical appearance. However, fans and followers have recently noticed large discrepancies between her Instagram posts and stock photos of her. In this picture, the most prominent differences are the size of her torso and her jawline. She’s shown to have edited gymnastics action shots and red carpet pictures and has been publicly criticized for editing when she already fits the “beauty standard” and for the negative impact this has had for other women with more athletic, muscular builds.

Instances like this have created a lot of insecurity for social media users, feeling the need to compare themselves with popular creators even if they can’t tell what is real and what is edited. This relates to the issue Elena Martinique brings up in her article “When Staged Photography Becomes Art” of if staged photography “would result in an ethical as well as an aesthetic crisis” and “photography’s loss of credibility”. Can edited photographs still be considered art? If so, should there be editing rules or an editing limit? If we “cite” an editing platform as a resource used does that make it morally correct? While I think these are all important issues to address, the bigger issue is social media culture. Platforms created with artistic purposes have turned into mathematical equations. What do I post to gain the most likes and followers, how do I get more users to interact with my profile, all of this effort just to see a number increase. The amount of likes or followers you have should never be an indication of self-worth. Social media was created to inspire and share creativity, but instead it has become a popularity contest where we must create illusions of perfect realities in order to win.

My unconventional background has made me struggle with believing I have a true cultural identity. I am ethnically Chinese, raised by a Ukrainian Jewish mother and an English Christian father. Franchi states that “​​Cultural heritage implies a shared bond, our belonging to a community.” However, I’ve never felt like I truly belonged to a certain community. In my opinion, I’m just as Chinese as I am Ukrainian or English. I was never taught any Chinese language, and although I may understand more Russian than most, English is the only language I’m fluent in. As if my ethnic background didn’t confuse me enough, a loose emphasis on religion in my household caused me to never identify with a religion.

Then I realized, my cultural heritage wasn’t limited to one culture and it wasn’t about trying to make myself fit in somewhere. It was about embracing and loving my unique upbringing, and as an American I’m not only inspired to, but encouraged to, explore multiple cultures. In terms of intangible heritage, I enjoy baking Ukrainian desserts with my mom and babushka, using recipes passed down from my babushka’s babushka when she lived in the Soviet Union. But I can also choose to go to Sunday morning church with my dad and grandma, singing hymns and listening to the pastor interpret parts of the Bible. As for holidays, Christmases are spent with my dad’s side of the family at my grandma’s house. We start by having the youngest family member, which has been me for as long as I can remember, wear a battered Santa hat while handing out presents. Afterwards, my grandpa leads us in prayer and we eat an early dinner together. However, New Years is spent with my mom’s side of the family at my babushka’s house. In the Soviet Union, New Year’s Eve was kind of like a different version of Christmas, so we always do a smaller gift exchange on this day. Then we watch the Times Square ball drop on tv, toast our glasses, and wish everyone “с Новым Годом!” or “Happy New Year!”

My traditions may be untraditional, but that doesn’t make them any less a part of my family or our culture. Franchi concludes the article by saying “Cultural heritage passed down to us from our parents must be preserved for the benefit of all.” While I can’t physically pass down my memories and experience, I can still share traditions and the feeling of love and family with future generations.