A Quick Trip into NYC: A Collage

I wanted to see the Cindy Sherman exhibit at MOMA, and Priceline can lead to a great, cheap hotel room before tourist season.  I also liked the chance to get away from working, even on my sabbatical.  Though I check into Foursquare and GetGlue when I travel, I don't necessarily check email, Facebook, or Twitter.  I do other things.  Here's evidence.

I love storefronts at night.

Flowers are blooming.

I love a good sculpture garden, too.

I heard this song for the first time last night, downloaded it, and listened to it on repeat.

And Cindy Sherman?  Absolutely stunning.  Yes, you can see her photography online everywhere, but it's very different seeing it as she intended it, as large or small.  Her career parallels the feminist movement from the 1970s to today in fascinating ways.  As I said on Twitter, I might be prepared to argue she is the most amazing living artist still working today.

Defining Culture

You know one of the things that sucks about writing a book on the culture wars?  Having to define culture.  It's such a loaded term, which people have been trying to define for quite awhile, certainly since the 19th century (when a whole lot of things were getting defined).

You've got Matthew Arnold.  In Culture and Anarchy, he defines culture as "being a pursuit of our total perfection by means of getting to know, on all the matters which most concern us, the best which has been thought and said in the world."  In a lot of ways, this is thinking of culture as an object, something out there.  The "best" he talks about is what defines canons of art and literature.  If you read the best books and study the best art and immerse yourself in the best philosophical thinking, then you can call yourself cultured.  Culture becomes an identity.  Some would argue that the humanities themselves are borne out of this sense of culture.  If you go to a university and study the best, you come out cultured.  Of course, this idea has been complicated by those like Stuart Hall.  Hall and his peers looked at working class cultures (among other things) with the point of saying that even those whom we would not normally see as cultured have a culture.  Just as you can talk about the best poetry, you can talk about the best rock-n-roll.  This understanding of culture leads us to the idea of the popular, the label usually ascribed to cultural texts that are widely appreciated and not usually part of high culture.  American Idol and Cosi Fan Tutte are both well-known cultural texts in the field of music, but the kinds of culture each represents could not be more different (and the fact that I both hold a PhD in English and had to look up how to spell "tutte" says something about the blurring of lines between high, low, and popular cultures, too).  When it comes to studying art, Arnold's definition of culture certainly remains important.

Then we get into anthropology, a field that has been deeply criticized yet is foremost in most of our minds when we think of culture.  There's Edward Burnett Tylor who worked in the same general place and time as Arnold.  In his work on "primitive cultures" (an ugly phrase by our standards today), he says that culture, "taken in its broad, ethnographic sense, is that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society."  This is a much broader definition of culture than Arnold's.  Though we now cringe at much work from the nineteenth-century on "the other," this is a pretty important stage in defining culture.  Culture is no longer about texts or objects.  It's still about knowledge, but it's about the kind of knowledge that we gain throughout our lives.  Just as we learn language as we grow, we learn culture over time, too.  Also, this broad definition pretty much contains all of what it means to be human, and that means that this definition of culture allows for oppression.  If you remove from a person or larger group of people part of what makes people human, then you oppress that person or group.  If marriage is part of what defines a culture, and you do not allow a group of people such as lesbians and gays to marry, then you are oppressing them.  If voting is a part of culture, and you do not allow a group to vote (as was very common before a range of voter's rights acts in this country), then you are oppressing them.

It's worth noting that both of these definitions try to create a stable understanding of culture during a time when there was a lot of upheaval in the world with wars, revolts, protests, colonization, and other disruptive and often violent acts taking place around the world.

Arnold taught us to think of culture as something we can obtain through study.  Tylor taught us that culture is something we are born into and learn throughout out lives.  Sociology deepened things more.

In the twentieth-century in America, we get to Talcott Parsons.  I had not heard of him before today, but I can see how he is important in defining culture.  He brought structuralism into the mix by trying to uncover what it is in culture that makes us act the way we do.  If Tylor defined culture in a broad sense and saw it as something we learned over time, Parsons dealt with what creates culture in the first place and how it maintains itself.  He developed what seems to be a pretty complex and abstract theory of social action known as the AGIL Paradigm (AGIL stands for adaptation, goal attainment, integration, and latency).  What I think is important about this is that a lot of the work in cultural studies and in social theory in general (as it is taught and has been taught in graduate schools for a good couple of decades now) can connect to his ideas.  I'm thinking in particular of ideology and discipline.  I'm not saying that Parsons is the father of theory.  People were writing about these things before he was around.  I'm just saying I see a connection.

Of course, for my work, it's not so important that I define culture coherently or cohesively.  It's more important that I examine texts from the time period and see how they define culture, explicitly or implicitly.  And it's important to have a firmer grasp on ways of defining culture so I can see where certain people and ideas fit.  After all, everyone starts somewhere.

I'm auditing a class at NYU this semester called Issues in Arts Politics.  I was excited to be allowed to audit because I thought it would help me with my book project, and it certainly looks like it will.  It will get me thinking about the larger issues I have to deal with, like defining culture.  Today was the first day of class, and I was thinking that I should condense my notes in a way that is relevant for me.  So all of this is taken from class lecture and discussion and filtered through my own particular lenses.  I'll try to do this each week even if it does mean leaving the house at 5:30 in the morning to get there on time.

The Value of Unrespectability

The artists discussed in this book, from Paul Cadmus to Holly Hughes, could not transcend the homophobic constraints imposed upon their work.  They could, however, restage and resist those constraints within the space of their art.  Rather than defending their work as proper or decent, these artists drew upon the force of the improper and the indecent, the force of fairies, most wanted men, sadomasochists, AIDS activists, and flaming queers.  They used the outlaw status of homosexuality both to contest the threat of censorship and to propose other visions of social, sexual, and creative life. These artists offer a record of resistance within the history of twentieth-century American culture.  But they also do something more.  In the face of ongoing demands for decent art, they urge us to recognize the value, and to take the risk, of unrespectability.

--from Richard Meyer's Outlaw Representation: Censorship and Homosexuality in Twentieth-Century American Art (2002)

As Choreographers Dream

I'm a sucker for stories about students who get really excited about learning something. One of my students told me the other day that the primary thing she's learned from me is that you have to be passionate about what you study. I like that. I've been meaning to share a story I read last week in the New York Times about advanced students at the School of American Ballet who enrolled in a choreography workshop. Now, these are pretty talented students who are already pretty engaged with the learning process, but I love reading how excited some of them are to take on the new challenge of choreography. That's a big reason why I audit the classes I do at NYU and take part in the workshops I've done in Puerto Rico, NYC, and other places. When we expose ourselves to new ideas and new ways of doing things, we learn how to approach what we do daily in new ways. I'm bookmarking this article mainly so I can read it when I need to be inspired. I certainly felt inspired reading it for the first time.

Laurie Anderson -- "O Superman"

For my NYU class, we're talking about performance art tomorrow, which I love. One of the articles mentioned Laurie Anderson, and I hadn't seen this performance of "O Superman" in years. I remember seeing it at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston in 1992. I'm not sure I've seen it since, but I certainly remember it. This is when I love YouTube. Sure, it can be full of crap, but it can have some great finds, too.

Blogger Meet-Up at the Wadsworth Antheneum

I have been a bad, bad blogger, and I don't mean not writing as often because that's pretty normal. Plus, in a world of RSS feeds, who cares how often someone writes since we find out about it when it happens anyway? I'm bad, though, because I went to a blogging event at the Wadsorth Antheneum in early August, and I'm just writing about it now. They were very nice and let us in for free and gave us a mug, pencil, and fliers. And I'm just now writing about it? Bad blogger.

But I was really happy they invited us. Or rather, they invited a blogger I know who forwarded the information to me. I will admit that I have lived here for just over six years, and I had never been there before, which is horrible considering my love of art museums. They even supposedly have a Wojnarowicz in their collection, though it was not on display at this time since there are some significant reservations going on. But anyone who has been reading me for a few years can probably remember my periodic updates about my hatred of difficult parking situations. It's often the primary reason I don't go somewhere. And I was late for the event because I could not find a place to park. I circled the place but was determined to find a spot. After a couple of turns, I did.

I need to find the right times to go down there because it seems like a place I need to check out more often. It has an amazing array of art from several periods and genres. Yes, I'm more of a contemporary guy, but there's a lot of that, too. I did not have a lot of time to explore, but I saw enough to let me know that it's worth exploring.

I was especially excited to find out about The Amistad Center for Art and Culture. What excited me most was finding out that they house an archive of items related to African-American culture from slavery onward. I didn't know something like that was so close. I always think of archives as something far aay that I need a grant to visit, but this is just downtown from here. I don't have a reason to visit, yet, but it would be fun to explore a bit and see what I find. Or find a reason to get students involved.

At any rate, if you are ever in Hartford, do check it out. It's a large building on Main Street, but after you're there, you'll be surprised at how much it contains.

A Little Talk about Wojnarowicz

(For my regular readers: At the RSA Seminar this week, we have been asked to compose a blog post like one you would see on No Caption Needed. I'm altering that for selfish reasons. I want to get that damn Wojnarowicz article I've been talking about for years to a journal by the end of 2009, so I'm taking every opportunity I can to write for that article. So I'm doing a close reading of one of the images I plan to discuss there. That's what this is. Feel free to comment, since this is part of a project I intend to pursue in depth, as anyone who has known me for a while knows. I have none of my research with me, so this is a basic close reading, but any and all feedback is welcome. Because the journal may not be able to reproduce images, I am writing as though the image is not included in this entry.)

This is one representative example of the images contained within the Sex Series. Like every other image in the series, Wojnarowicz prints it so that the image looks not like a standard photograph but more like it is a negative, still in black-and-white but with the light patterns reversed. The dominant image is a photograph of the two main bridges connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn, Manhattan Bridge and Brooklyn Bridge. The top right of the photograph shows the southeastern edge of lower Manhattan, while the bottom shows the northern sections of Brooklyn. The photograph depicts a somewhat typical skyline shot clearly taken from a plane. The viewer is place well above this scene, barely able to distinguish any building but the tallest skyscrapers, let alone individual cars on the bridges. It is a vast and familiar public space, one where millions of people shift in and out of it each day.

At the top of the image's left corner, Wojnarowicz has place a circular inset depicting sexual activity between two people. One person on all fours straddles the face of another person lying on her or his back. This inset represents the private domain. Acts like this one could be occurring throughout the public space in the image's background (though, hopefully, not in any cars on the bridge). In many ways, it is a completely average sex act between completely average people. But even though the act is average and ordinary, it is often shrouded in secrecy and shame. Wojnarowicz, knowing that American society does not engage in larger, public discussions about diverse facets of sexuality, wants the placement of these two images together to remind us that sex is everywhere, that it is as ordinary as the bridges that connect Manhattan and Brooklyn.

Gender is impossible to determine in the inset because of both the technique of printing is as a negative that I mention above but also because it is cropped in a way that removes the head and upper torso of the top person and the lower body of the bottom person. The sex act dominates. In depositions related to the court case, it is clear that Wildmon assumes these people are two gay men engaging in fellatio, but Wojnarowicz makes it clear that these are women participating in cunnilingus. I clarify gender in this case because it reflects what I see as one of Wojnarowicz's goals for the entire Sex Series. As a gay man, Wojnarowicz knows that viewers will assume he is promoting the need to acknowledge gay male sexuality in a world where thousands have died from or continue to live with HIV. But Wojnarowicz wants to promote the acknowledgment of sexuality in general. Many images in the Sex Series depict gay male sexuality, but others contain heterosexual sex, and this one highlights lesbian sex. Using the image of the negative erases gender (except in those insets that show a penis protruding from a male body) and highlights the normalcy of sexuality across genders.

The use of a circle may initially appear to be an ordinary way of inserting this private scene into this public space, but there is much more going on here. The use of the circle highlights visualizing technologies. Both the microscope and the telescope, devices that look outward and inward, use circular lenses. And connecting the insets to those technologies supports my claim above about the need to acknowledge the things that define our existence even if they usually remain invisible to the naked eye. The blood cells that carry oxygen to our hearts (and, in some cases HIV) and the stars that provide us light at night are a part of human existence. At the same time, reflecting on these technologies--and the ordinary and extraordinary things they can reveal--brings to mind other technologies, specifically the technologies of surveillance. I have said above that these insets highlights the normalcy of sexuality, but they also make visible the acts of surveillance that push people to keep sexuality secret. To be clear, neither I nor Wojnarowicz is arguing that we should be having sex in public. But this surveillance demands that we not even talk about sex in public, which is a dangerous silence in a world where sex can lead to death. I raise all of these points, however, to show that this image does not encourage a singular, simplistic reading. It is complex, just as sexuality itself is complex especially when you consider all its forms.

Ultimately, the images in the Sex Series promote the belief that sex, while usually a private act, is an ordinary part of life for most people. At the same time, sex can be a complex act that embodies a range of pleasures and fears, purposes and motivations. Placed within the context of Wojnarowicz's work in general, I see this series as arguing for the need to acknowledge this complexity and engage with it in public discourse. Otherwise, people of all sexualities and genders will continue not just to die from HIV but to feel the range of negative effects that result from seeing sex through a shroud of shame, secrecy, and fear.

Sadie Benning Still Rocks

Whew, what a long yet quick week, if that makes any sense. I can't believe I've been here since Sunday. That's a pretty good amount of time, but it went by fast. Yet I'm really ready to get home. There are several people here staying until Sunday since they allow us to stay in the dorms until then, but I'm ready to get home, though I'm certainly glad I had the week. As usual when I do something like this, I see the immediate benefits and can note certain things that I will be saying in my classes this fall based on what I've learned this week, but I'll also not recognize the full effect of being here for awhile.

Tonight, as I planned to do all week, I rode the subway up to the Whitney since it's pay-as-you-go night and they are showing Sadie Benning's latest video project, Play Pause. I saw her early stuff years ago when I was working in the gallery in Houston. I even got a bootleg copy (supposedly). But I had no idea what she's been doing in the last decade or so. This video project is very different from that early work, at least on the surface, but she still has her queer edge, I was very happy to see. I bought the book that went with the exhibit, thrilled to see that it had some essays and an interview with her. The geek in me got all jazzed up at the thought of reading more about her work. Oh, the photoconceptualism exhibit on the fifth floor rocked, too.

For now, though, I think I'll go back to the dorm, pack up, lie on the bed to read, and just get ready to go home tomorrow.

Walking the Museum Mile

Not going to say a lot tonight as I'm exhausted, and I have to get up early tomorrow for our trips to the Queens Museum of Art and Metropolitan. But tonight, I went to the Museum Mile Festival, where 5th Avenue is blocked off from 82nd to 105th, and all museums on the route are free and open to the public. I did not go into any museums, however, but just wandered from 86th to 105th and back down to 96th. I took some photos of some of the chalk drawings people had done on the street, and I grabbed a piece of purple chalk and sat down myself, writing, "I had a dream. And in this dream, all the girls in town were named Betty." I'm now not sure I got the quotation exactly right, and I wonder how many who stopped to read it (I saw a few) recognized it. The NYC Gay Men's Chorus started singing at one place, and a bunch of kids ran up to watch, and then gasped and giggled when they saw the sign saying the men were gay.

But I'm exhausted and really should just stretch out on the bed, read for a bit, and get ready for more walking tomorrow.