Tyler Green
Art-focused Journalism by Tyler Green

Tyler Green Modern Art Notes

Archive for the ‘Newsmakers on MAN’ Category

The very public debate over Fred Wilson’s Indy sculpture

This morning I introduced the controversy in Indianapolis over a proposed Fred Wilson sculpture. Continuing from that post

The work Fred Wilson proposed for the Indianapolis Cultural Trail, E Pluribus Unum, takes a cue from Indianapolis’ huge downtown Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument (at right, image via Flickr user Phil King, and detail below via Flickr user OZinOH), a neo-classical enormity designed by German architect Bruno Schmitz and completed in 1901. One of the figures on Schmitz’s memorial is an ex-slave, as symbolized by the African-American man’s bare torso and the apparently recently broken chain and shackles. (The Col. Eli Lilly Civil War Museum is in the base of the memorial. It chronicles Indiana’s Civil War history.)

Wilson proposed to create a sculpture out of Indiana limestone that would isolate that figure, mostly remove the signifier of bondage and to slightly him. Into his figure’s outstretched arm Wilson would place a flag that represents the African Diaspora. Wilson’s sculpture would be visible from the existing memorial. (This excellent short video features Wilson presenting and explaining the project. The proposed flag is below.)

As I noted this morning, initial public reaction to Wilson’s artwork was muted. The Indianapolis Recorder, Indy’s black newspaper, published what was by all accounts a thorough, considered story on Wilson and his sculpture in early September. (The story is no longer online.) The story was apparently mild, but the reaction to it was not.

On Sept. 16, the Recorder published an inflammatory letter from former Indiana Public Schools teacher and board member Leroy Robinson. In his letter, Robinson excoriated the project. “[T]his is not the 19th century and the African-American community in Indianapolis does not need another ‘image’ in downtown Indianapolis to remind us of how downtrodden, beat down, hapless, and submissive we once may have been,” Robinson wrote. “We don’t need any more images of lawn jockeys, caricatures… no more buffoonery, no more shuckin’ and jiven’, and no more ape-ish looking monuments.” Along with the letter the Recorder ran a picture of a lawn jockey, which likely confused readers because the image was unrelated to anything Wilson has proposed.

“We’ve been working for four weeks to correct misinformation, to re-publish renderings,” Indianapolis Cultural Trail curator and public art project coordinator Mindy Taylor Ross told me on the phone last week.

Wilson understands Robinson’s position — he just disagrees with it. “Images are obviously at the heart of racism because we look different,” he told me, also in a phone conversation. “So the manipulation of images has been a part of the bone of contention for a long, long time in the African-American community because it’s been kind of controlled by others.”

Indianapolis’ African-American community seems eager to join the debate that Robinson’s letter started. (The Indianapolis Star has covered the dust-up, but in a somewhat odd, what’s-this-about manner.) The conflict came to a head last week at a community meeting held at Indianapolis’ Madame Walker Theater. Almost 300 people showed up to talk with Wilson and to debate his artwork. According to both Ross and Wilson, the overwhelming majority of the audience was interested in having a thoughtful discussion and a large majority of the audience was supportive of the work. Both thought that about a dozen people made dialogue difficult by regularly interrupting and initiating a ruckus.

“It was just one of those situations where there are hundreds of people there and the loudest voices get heard and everyone else gets drowned out,” Ross said. “After the letter to the paper, we looked at it as we’re kind of starting over again. It was the meeting at which we re-introduced Fred.”

After the sometimes contentious and out-of-control meeting at the Madame Walker Theater, Wilson went on the most important black radio program in Indianapolis, “Afternoons with Amos.” Wilson spent nearly an hour discussing his project with the host, Amos Brown, and dozens of callers. (Audio from the show is available here.) The overwhelming majority of the callers were in favor of the project. The discourse was polite, considered and substantive.

“We are not against you Mr. Fred Wilson, not whatsoever,” one caller said. “Nor are we against art, nor are we against the the cultural trail. But we’re against the use of another slave image in downtown Indianapolis. No other race or ethnicity is being depicted in their worst moment in American history on that trail. Once again, welcome to our city.”

Another caller: “At one point we were concerned about the Confederate flag flying over state buildings and now we’re concerned about an image of slavery being placed in front of our city’s buildings. I think it’s confusing and I wonder: What if someone wanted to place swastikas on the cultural trail as an image of expression? Or if someone wanted to place nooses around trees? Who decides what is appropriate and what is not appropriate?

“I don’t think this should be a popularity contest where [you have people saying] I like this and I like that… I think this is a little more serious, maybe too serious for a cultural trail. I think Mr. Wilson should get his commission and he should be paid to do this piece ,but maybe there would be a better venue. When you have a cultural trail and public art and none of the [other] artists [did something quite like this]… there were no white leaders called or focus groups around that art. They had to know that this piece would bring some controversy. So in talking about disparity, it’s very unfair for the African-American community to endure all this discussion and constant divisive meetings about this piece when no other ethnic group is faced with this. At a time when we could be spending our time on elections and millions of other things, we’re arguing about a slave downtown.”

I wasn’t at the Madame Walker Theater event, but I found listening to Brown and Wilson on the radio to be particularly instructive. (If I were teaching at an art school, I’d scrub this week’s lesson plan and play it for my class. Brown guided his guest and his callers through a super hour of radio.) It’s uncommon for artists and the non-art-world public to engage in such a direct manner, especially outside the context of an art museum lecture hall, so I asked Wilson what he thought of the openness of the conversation.

“Public art is different from art that ends up in museums or museum collections,” Wilson said. “It’s out there in public and people can interpret it in the way they will and often without any mediation, which is really great. But on the other hand, people are bringing different understandings of art and its forms to it, so one has to be very responsible with that idea. But given that, for me it’s quite amazing that some people couldn’t get past the image of this freed slave as a slave. I thought that by taking him out of context, he became a man and became something else other than just what was placed on him by the tropes of being in the monument.

“I feel like there was such a diversity of opinions from the audience at the Walker Theater and at the radio station because some had the idea it should be a family group there [in my sculpture] or that there should be perhaps a famous African-American simply as a statue, as a monument. Some people thought that perhaps there should be a John Brown or someone holding a gun. So it ran the gamut of emotions of what they would like to see. I personally thought that asepct of the conversation was really great, because my over-arching goal is to have these images discussed around the table and to also think about what the images of African-Americans in monument form should be for the world.

“I guess I would say that positivist imagery is different for different people and I am infusing a different way of thinking about that. I found what I did to be positive. It gets it out of that context it was in so you could see it as original as what it was, that it was an image from the past and not the present. It’s part of my practice to use the same image to make that same point rather than to make a new image. I don’t believe you forget the old image until you really deal with it. ”

I suggested to Wilson that his embrace of the ongoing discourse was a little bit unusual in that art-worlders frequently talk about how much they want discourse, but at the first sign of dissent or discord they retreat back into the comfortable little art-world bubble. Wilson agreed — and pointed to how this Indianapolis conversation is the kind of artist-public discourse wherein art can play an important role as a community protagonist.

“I was really thrilled by all the dialogue,” Wilson said. “It actually invigorated me because I’m hearing from everyone. I was trying to reach everyone before I made the piece and tell them what I do before [the controversy] started to emerge, but I’m dealing with a city here not a museum. Museums are kind of finite. At a museum you can kind of test the water and see what people think and how they react to things given their environment. Information goes in and comes out and work is made. With a city, you realize — or I have come to realize — that as many groups as you speak to there are other groups. You can’t ever reach everyone. So I’m just really thrilled that there’s engagement and talk about art. This conversation is just really unusual. I’ve been really thrilled with it. Everyone in Indianapolis has been great to me and respectful and thrilled with what I do, but even people who are against [E Pluribus Unum] seem to still respect me and my work. They just don’t like this one.

“It’s a conversation with a public with many ideas about what art should be. That excited me, engaged me, and in my mind what I would like is to see more of this play out in actuality. I think a lot of it is also that there’s a history of broken promises and things not happening the way they should there, so the weight that’s put on this particular commission is great. I’m not talking about the people who commissioned my work, I just mean mean the general history [of the relationship between Indianapolis' power structure and the African-American community].”

The future of Wilson’s project is still in doubt as the major funder, the Central Indiana Community Foundation, continues a series of meetings and discussions throughout the city. (The executive director of CICF, Brian Payne, is traveling this week and was unavailable for comment as of publication time. I’ll have him on MAN soon.) Wilson says the piece is final, that he won’t make changes in response to community discussions. Ross and Wilson both said that they are excited by the discussions and the way in which Wilson’s art has emerged as a catalyst for community discussion, but both are unsure what the CICF will ultimately decide.

“If this were to happen it would really engage me and excite me to stay engaged with Indianapolis and to see that something else happens too,” Wilson said. “Some people are saying that there are a million monuments there — second only to Washington in terms of monuments in American cities — so why not have a monument on the statehouse lawn of a famous African-American from Indianapolis. I would stick by them and support that. At this town hall meeting at the Madam Walker Theater,  someone said, ‘Why don’t you work with some of the younger artists here?’ I suggested that I certainly would. There’s a lot that could come out of this in a very positive light. We’ll see what happens.”

According to the Recorder, the next public meeting at which Wilson’s sculpture will be discussed is November 5.

of racism because we look different and so the manip of images has been a part of the boen of contention for a long long time in the AA comm bc it’s been kind of controlled by others

Introducing Fred Wilson’s Indy project – and the backlash

Nineteen months after artist Fred Wilson proposed a work of public art for a major new venue in Indianapolis, the project seemed to be moving quietly forward. Titled E Pluribus Unum (at right), the sculpture was commissioned by the Indianapolis Cultural Trail, a city-neighborhood-connecting pedestrian and bicycle path. (The ICT is the product of a collaboration between the City of Indianapolis, a regional foundation and several non-profits. It’s becoming a prominent venue for public art in Indianapolis: Sculptures, including a work by Julian Opie, have been placed along the trail and others have been proposed, including this scent-driven piece by Sean Derry.)

Throughout 2009 and 2010, the ICT held a series of meetings to try to introduce Wilson and E Pluribus Unum to the community. Art students showed up and maybe a few other folks did too. The groups that Wilson and the ICT most wanted to engage — the quarter of Indianapolis residents who are African-American — were mostly disinterested. Local black talk radio pretty much ignored Wilson and the project.

“Honestly, it had been a little bit difficult to get a lot of people from the community involved,”  Indianapolis Cultural Trail curator and public art project coordinator Mindy Taylor Ross told me last week.

This was both a surprise and a disappointment to the ICT’s organizers. Wilson, who describes describes himself as being of “African, Native American, European and Amerindian” descent, is best known for creating installations that engage and question the traditional display of art and artifacts. Typically his work uses pre-existing objects to raise new questions about historical narratives — or to make points about how those narratives are formed. In 1999 he was the recipient of a MacArthur Foundation ‘genius’ grant and he serves as a trustee at the Whitney Museum of American Art. He’s particularly fond of creating works that create conversations, that start people talking about community issues through the prism of art.

Finally, about two months ago the Indianapolis Recorder, the city’s African-American newspaper, ran a story on Wilson and his proposed sculpture. All of a sudden Ross and Wilson had all the attention and dialogue they’d wanted — and more.

Part two: Wilson’s sculpture and the controversy it started.

August Newsmaker Q&A: Zoe Strauss, part two

Continuing MAN’s August Newsmaker Q&A with photographer Zoe Strauss. The introduction to the Q&A and part one are here and a juxtaposition of recent work by Mark Bradford and Strauss is here. [Larger image of picture above is here.]

MAN: Let’s talk more about the pictures you took. You shot everything digitally?

Zoe Strauss: Yes.

MAN: How many?

ZS: I took a couple thousand. I had just one camera. I used a different lens for about one minute, but I mostly like one camera and one lens. That total seems kind of false because literally, without exaggeration, I’d take 100 photos of the same place I’m standing with different variations of people moving in and out of the shot. So it’s not that many photos, it’s variations on one structure a lot of the time. When you’re shooting with a digital camera you can keep going endlessly, and who doesn’t love that?

MAN: So what do you think really worked? I see there are about 1,100 Gulf pictures in your Flickr stream, about 800 from the first trip and about 300 from the second trip. I noticed you really liked the colors of the oil booms and other industrial cleanup materials and that you liked to place them against the coastal landscapes or Gulf-scapes.

ZS: You bet, those were the most distinct components of a lot of the photos: the artificial band of color that’s now in the landscape. I think that worked best for me, maybe even more so than the oil. It’s such a foreign component in these very traditional landscape photos, so I think that worked pretty well. To be honest I always kind of generally like structured architectural photos, but in these pictures on this trip, I thought the abstract, organic photos looked best. I don’t know if they’ll be the ones that tell the story the best, but they’re the ones I felt were the strongest. [Larger image here.]

MAN: You feel like they worked better than your pictures of people?

ZS: Yes. That’s just my aesthetic preference, but that’s the feeling I had of being down there, a feeling of being both overwhelmed and confused. It’s so unbelievably beautiful that it’s also a little frightening. Those images, while they might not necessarily be the strongest to other people, they’re the ones that I think will help me order and base the other ones [in the moment and place].

MAN: I think this is a question that kind of gets at your broader artistic practice, but I’ll make it specific to the recent event: What business does an artist have at an oil spill? Why should an artist be there?

ZS: I did think about that, particularly because I flew over the site twice. I don’t if I’ll be able to articulate this right, but an artist’s job is to help make people think. This is going to be long-lasting and this is going to be a catastrophe that’s going to be there for years to come. Part of an artist’s ‘job’ is to try to make something that will be part of the dialogue. I know it’s a hard… with photography in particular, it’s very difficult for there to be a line. It’s slippery between photojournalism and fine art in terms of how people perceive photography. [Larger image here.]

MAN: Is that why you’re attracted to working in series?

ZS: Actually I think it is, it definitely is. I think part of it is coming off of the big project I worked on for 10 years. [Ed.: Strauss' I-95 project.] “On the Beach” is very similar to the structure of what I’ve put out there before, which is allowing the editing process to be seen.

MAN: Can you think of or have you thought of art historical precedents for your Gulf work?

ZS: Absolutely. I think all the time about photography and particularly the meanings that photo is giving to culture and how photography has shifted ideas about image. I think this is more like Alan Sekula’s work. He’s done a lot of work specifically about the oceans and globalization. While of course it’s aesthetically not similar to his work, it’s more in line with his idea of including a fine art piece that talks about these issues without making it, I think, didactic. His work also includes the ability for the viewer to make what they will out of it, rather than a piece of journalism.

It’s also certainly engaging the idea of an American road trip, like Robert Frank, and certainly Ed Burtynsky’s ‘oil series.’ These are all things that have to be referenced when looking at my own work because they’re so important.

MAN: Do you know what you want to do with the work yet? I know one of the ideas you’ve discussed on your blog is the possibility of turning into a 30-picture, limited-edition book.

ZS: I don’t have any big plans for it yet. I wanted to make it first. I felt like it was important to go immediately and make it and then figure out venues afterward. I might show it at Bruce Silverstein, my New York gallery, and I’m probably going to do a project with another Philly guy who was also down there for a while. He’s a writer who’s interested in the same threads I am, and also in the long haul of this. [Larger image here.]

MAN: What do you want to do with the images, how do you want to present/show/publish/etc. them?

ZS: I’ve got to sort out the “art” from the “journalist” possibilities, I’m pretty sure three or four of these photos are important to show as a straightforward recording of what’s happening there. But to be honest, the scope of what’s happened is impossible to articulate, in words or photos.

MAN: One of the things that an artist has the privilege of trying to do is to make images or objects that exist in a particular time horizon or tradition. So if/when you make your book of these images or prints, they’ll almost certainly end up institutionalized, in archives, in libraries, in museum collections. Especially considering that the Philadelphia Museum of Art is launching a retrospective of your career in the not-too-distant future. Do you think about that?

ZS: I definitely think about that. We have a very interesting divide in which the idea of newsworthiness falls by the wayside rather quickly – that is people will move on from the spill to the next thing pretty quickly – but we fetishize art in a way that allows these things to remain relevant through display, inclusion in museum collections and so on. I do think about that. I don’t know that about my own work because it’s too presumptuous to think of myself in that construct, but I do think about the longevity of art collections and how they continue to move these moments to the forefront of public thought. [Larger image here.]

MAN: Will any of this work be in the PMA show or have you thought about that?

ZS: The show at the PMA! How f*cking awesome is that? Can you believe it? It is so awesome I don’t even know what I”m going to do.

I purposely tried to push that out of my mind as I made this work. I wanted to make sure there was no thought that this might be included. I felt I wanted to make this work with its own structure on the basis of how I felt compelled to talk about it. I mean, maybe it could, but it would have to be an ‘after-edit.’

MAN: Sounds like you’re having fun with the PMA show.

ZS: I will be perfectly frank with you: Right now I can’t even think about that because the amount of Xanax it would take to simmer me down is not manufactured in this world. I’m cognizant of it, but it creates so much anxiety in terms of the way I produce – which is kind of full-throttle – I don’t know if I can deal with it. That’s just the honest, real answer. I purposely don’t think about it.

August Newsmaker Q&A: Zoe Strauss visits the Gulf

Zoe Strauss is a lesbian anarchist from Philadelphia.

Strauss is also a photographer who recently completed “Under I-95,” a 10-year-long project that culminated in an installation of photographs under Interstate 95 in South Philadelphia. Her first monograph, America, was published in 2008. An exhibition of Strauss’ work is on view at the Wexner Center for the Arts. She’s also working on a retrospective exhibition that will be presented at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where her work is in the permanent collection.

Last week Strauss and I talked about her first two small-donors-funded trips to the Gulf of Mexico, where she explored the BP-Deepstar Horizon disaster. She has chronicled her Gulf trips at her principal blog, at a project-specific blog called On the Beach and on her Flickr page. (All images in this post and in part two are used with permission. Each image will include a link to a larger version of each picture (and to other pictures Strauss may have posted with it). The larger version of the image above is here.)

MAN: Why did you want to go to the disaster and how did the idea to go develop?

Zoe Strauss: It came about because of the length of the spill, because of how long it was taking. It was about a month and a half in and I suddenly thought, ‘This is unprecedented. This is going to be something that’s important to talk about.’ It’s going to have a much greater impact than people thought it would when the spill first happened.

I became kind of obsessive compulsive about needing to go down there. It was like a snowball rolling into an avalanche. Part of it was that it had happened and it was horrible, but literally as time went on and nothing was happening and BP was still running everything, it seemed there was a media blackout [when it came to images of the impact]. It just became crazier and crazier, and it seemed important to go. [Larger image here. Nota bene on scale: The white dot at the upper right is a fishing boat and its wake.]

MAN: You paid for your Gulf trip through a ‘pledge drive’ that was set up through United States Artists. How did that come together?

ZS: I love those guys! They just started this kind of new thing, very much like Kickstarter, but it’s specific for people who have gotten USA grants. I’d been talking with [USA] about different projects I’ve been working on and this coincided with my needing enough money to go make this work. It just happened simultaneously. I don’t know if I’d have been able to go if I hadn’t been able to raise that money, because I’m broke. Also, it is important to make more than one trip. I’ve been twice and I want to go a third time.

MAN: So on the page that USA set up for you, it shows your goal as realized. But since you want to be able to keep going, people may still contribute even though the site says you’re over 100 percent of your initial goal, right?

ZS: Yes. My intent with the project is to amass a body of work that I can edit down and make something cohesive about this moment, about the course of the spill. It’s not journalism and it’s not really intended to be this production where it’s gallery-only, so it’s in this weird kind of amorphous place. I didn’t have enough individual funds to do it myself, but I felt strongly work should be done about the disaster. I also felt, even though I’m unbelievably anxious about this, I thought I might be successful about getting some of the work done so it’ll be lasting.

MAN: How did you prepare for the trip? Not just in terms of what you packed, but anything you might have looked at in terms of planning, what you knew you wanted to see, even art or artists you thought about before going?

ZS: I asked for a press pass so I could get on one of the flights that flies over the site. That’s the first time I’ve done that. I also had to make a plan of where-to-go because at that point BP and the U.S. Coast Guard weren’t allowing photographers or journalists in general into places that were most-oiled. [Larger image here.]

The spill is literally from Texas to Florida. It’s so expansive that it seemed important to figure out where to go and so on. I picked a flyover of the site where the actual spill was happening and also at Grand Isle, at the bottom of Louisiana that I knew was a mess. The Natural Resources Defense Council was starting an outreach center in Buras, La., which is also at the bottom of a different part of Louisiana. And then I planned one day that was a trip to a beach where people were swimming that I thought might be besieged with oil – but that might not be yet. And as it turned out, it was.

MAN: That must be the picture of the two kids.

ZS: Can you f*cking believe that? The oil was littered as far as you could see in either direction. It was oil in every form you can imagine. It was constantly washing up on the beach. It was so horrible. And kids and people were playing in it.

MAN: That photo seems like a post-apocalyptic, industrial-era updating of Cezanne. That’s such a significant art historical reference, was it on your mind when you took the picture or looked at it later as part of your ongoing editing process?

ZS: Yes, absolutely. How could you not? [Larger image here.]

But not just the bathers: I also thought about the post-apocalyptic element a lot. The title of my project, “On the Beach,” comes from a Nevil Shute book, a post-apocalyptic novel about people waiting for radiation to come to New Zealand and how they’re living their lives before the end of the world. Bizarrely, I read it earlier this year, just before the oil spill. It seemed frighteningly relevant that people are going to be waiting with great anxiety for years and years and years to know what the outcome of this spill is. Things might be fine forever – or they might be fine for a year or it might be fine for five years and then there could be such horrible ramifications of the spill or the dispersants or whatever.

As it became clear that the oil couldn’t be swept away, that was my first thought: the anxiety of waiting. I read a couple articles about people in Alabama where fishing was closed, where people were literally at their marinas and sitting and waiting, all with no idea what was happening. They’d go to their boats every day even though they wouldn’t take them out. They’d just go there and hang out and then go home. I was very saddened by that and moved by what people did in the moment where they didn’t know what they were going to do. That felt very connected to having read this book and the importance of avoiding this huge catastrophe. There’s no way to stop it. You’re powerless in what do you do in the interim.

MAN: So the guy with the flowing silver hair and the LSU hat who surfaces over and over again in your pictures, is he one of the people you met who wait and wait?

ZS: Oh yes! Buddy Compton! I love him! Buddy Compton is f*cking awesome. He’s so great. [Larger image here.]

MAN: Who is he?

ZS: He’s a fisherman in Venice, La. He’s a guy who a friend of mine recommended that I call him, so I did, just out of the blue and we started talking. I met him at a dive bar at the bottom of Louisiana, and that was pretty much it. We had a tour of the area, drank and we came back.

Buddy’s been a fisherman down there since he was born, essentially. The tour he took me on was of where his boat was in the marina, which boats were working for BP and the kind of abundance of, I don’t know, nepotism maybe that allowed some people get called to work for BP on the booms instead of getting a half-pay check [from BP]. He also took me to another place where there were a whole slew of out-of-state plates, because that’s an indication of who’s being hired to work on the spill. Local folks weren’t being hired. They were on a wait-list. Buddy told me about the structure of the local fishing industry there. I could not definitively get a handle on it because it was so complex. Buddy told me the basics of how fucking pissed off they were and how there’s great complexity and intricacy in each part of the disaster: Here’s the disaster. Here’s the cleanup. Here’s the contractors. Here’s the subcontractors and who’s going to get hired to go out. It’s an endless web of bureaucracy. They’re unbelievably difficult things to navigate for these guys who shrimp and crab.

MAN: A lot of your pictures of people – even most of them – are shot in bars. Why?

ZS: Right, they are. That’s certainly a part of the culture. But that’s also pretty much what’s happening. Just waiting. People are going out and working on the cleanup, but for the most part it’s waiting on what people are going to say in terms of when they can fish and work. A big part of what’s being told to the fishing community down there is, ‘Just wait and we’ll work it out.’ There’s no kind of concrete timeline or definitive thing one can say like, ‘Here’s when you can go back to work,’ or, ‘Here’s what will happen within the year.’ A lot of it is, ‘Have patience and wait this out.’ So that’s part of why I wanted to go to Buras. [Larger image here.]

MAN: Next trip you make down there, where will you go?

ZS: I had originally hoped to go to different places, but now I think I’ll go to some of the same places. I’ll probably go to Morgan City, to the Shrimp and Petroleum Festival.

MAN: The what?

ZS: The Shrimp and Petroleum Festival. I know. Whoa. Hello!

Continued here, in part two.

Related: A tale of two disasters, Mark Bradford & Zoe Strauss.

Hirshhorn: ‘Bulbous Membrane’ announcement in fall

Two follow-ups related to MAN July Newsmaker Q&A with Smithsonian Secretary G. Wayne Clough: I asked Clough if the Smithsonian would be contributing to the Hirshhorn’s plan to build a bulbous membrane inside the Bunshaft ‘doughnut.’ In our interview, Clough indicated that it is unlikely that the Smithsonian will contribute funds to the proposed project. “[Hirshhorn director] Richard Koshalek has a lot of contacts, that’s why we hired him,” Clough said. “Our strategic plan isn’t just about thinking, it’s about resources. We knew we needed more money and that we have to rely less on the federal government to get where we’re going. We have to raise external funds to do these things.”

I asked the Hirshhorn what it had raised toward the project, which was first leaked seven months ago, but the museum declined to provide those figures. “As you can imagine, we’ve got proposals out to individuals, foundations and others,” Hirshhorn spokesperson Gabriel Riera told me via email. “We have received some pledges of support already and will be making an announcement this fall.”

(As you may recall, last December MAN readers out-raised the Hirshhorn $1,499-$0 over the course of MAN’s annual DonorsChoose.org fundraising drive. Every penny helped provide art supplies and materials for public schools.)

I also asked the museum to clarify Clough’s reference to what the Secretary called Koshalek’s “idea of levitating the building with lights you put on it in the evening.”

“We think that [Clough] was referring to a project we’re exploring with Doug Aitken,” Hirshhorn communications director Gabriel Riera told me in an email. “It would involve projections on the building. Doug is one of several artists we’re talking to about a range of projects that engage our building as well as the collection. As we prepare for our 40th anniversary, a few years down the road, we want to take every opportunity to involve artists and their creative input and inspiration in the life of the museum.”

Newsmaker Q&A: Smithsonian Secretary G. Wayne Clough

Two years ago this month, G. Wayne Clough began a five-year term as Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. Until now, Clough had not given an interview specifically about the Smithsonian’s art museums, a group of institutions that collectively make up about a third of the institution. Our conversation took place yesterday.

MAN: When you took over the Smithsonian two years ago, relations with Congress were at an all-time low. One senator even suggested that the Smithsonian might be spun off of federal support. Have relations with Congress improved  and if so have they improved enough that you think Congress might be willing to fund and support new initiatives and programs?

G. Wayne Clough: It’s always a work in progress. Relationships are always something you have to sustain. I feel very positive about how things are working out with Congress. I took a lot of time to go up to the Hill and to listen to people. I heard a lot of concern. I don’t think they lost faith in the Smithsonian, I think they lost faith in the administration. I think they understand the value of the institution to the nation and the world.

I find their expressions of hope for the Smithsonian and support for it to be very strong. Our FY 2010 budget was very strong for us and it did have money for new initiatives. I think they are particularly interested in the things we talked about in our strategic plan and I think they’re very interested in the notion that it’s time for the museums to share resources and treasures with everybody: It’s not just creating a great experience for the 30 million people that came to see our exhibits, but also us finding a way to share our marvelous treasures of art and scientific wonders and such, but also the people behind them.

When I have time, I love to go through an exhibition with a curator and I’m excited about using YouTube and other social media to get these people out in front of the public. The more you can get these folks out in front of the public, the more they’re going to be the stars. I think Congress loves this idea that we could bring out to the [American] people these great resources and that digital technology can help us do that. It’s not just us bringing the tablets down from on high, but allowing people to say I don’t believe what you just told me… it’s the interactive part.

MAN: The best space in Washington, arguably in the whole nation, for a major cultural building is the Smithsonian’s Arts & Industries Building. Today it’s pretty much empty, as it has been for years. Walk us through your plan for it. [Image: Flickr user martin_kalfatovic.]

GWC: I guess the first stage of it is to get it fixed so it doesn’t deteriorate. That means that speaking – and I’m an engineer so I have to think about this stuff a little bit – we have to fix the roof. The interior of the building is continuing to deteriorate on our watch. We spent $5 million of stimulus funding on that. We have gotten rid of a lot of things built-up on the inside that interfered with the architect’s vision… The idea is to go back to the original concept and to natural lighting. That’s one part of it.

As far as programming, we’re still not final on that. Of course part of that is the Latino commission has expressed some interest in the building [for a Smithsonian Latino Museum]. I personally don’t think that’s their first choice: It’s relative small and it’s not expressive of their culture. It’s also limited in its capacity as a museum structure.

The other problem is that in this day and age sadly it has to be blast-proof and it has very little reinforcement within it. Given that we’re trying to hold to the historical basis for the building, how do you put in serious structural elements in a way that doesn’t take away from the beautiful flowing capacity of the space? It depends where it goes, but if it were to go somewhere other than to the Latino museum concept, it would be a place where you deliver education if you will, education writ large. It was, at one time, a ‘unifier,’ a building that synthesized the Smithsonian Institution and we’d synthesize it around the grand challenges that address the Smithsonian: Art, science and the places art and science converge. That learning might take place in the building itself — for example, all the surfaces might be tactile, like touch-screens — or it could be a place where we deliver learning to a distant part of our planet or our country in ways that really help people who are culturally deprived.

Also, if you’re going to do arts education, it would be wonderful to think that [National Gallery of Art director] Rusty Powell and his folks would work with us to develop curricula. I see us collaborating with arts organizations around the country to do things together that we couldn’t do separately. The Smithsonian can be a convener, a trusted broker.

MAN: Do you have a timeline for that building?

GWC: It does depend on those things I mentioned earlier, and on money and engineering. We’re planning to open the National Museum of African American History and Culture in 2015, which is aggressive. Arts & Industries is probably going to lag that a bit, so probably 2017 or something like that. I’d love to do it faster — and would if things broke our way.

MAN: In 2005 the Smithsonian convened an external review committee made up of many leading figures in the art museum community to examine the Smithsonian art museums. It released its report in 2007, just as one Smithsonian administration was on the way out and as you were close to being hired. The committee both conducted evaluations and made recommendations. Have you read the report? Have you found it useful, or if it’s something kind of left over from previous leadership?

GWC: I think there’s always value. They got a lot of smart people together and they expressed a lot of ideas. I think there were a lot of good ideas. There was a problem with how it was messaged and and the timing was wrong, as you said.

[Undersecretary for Art, History and Culture] Richard Kurin has done a good job of bringing our art people together to talk about where we think our institution should go. As part of our strategic plan we had people from other museums come in and look at where we should go. It was less people staring down the barrels of a gun and telling them, ‘Here’s what we think whether you like it or not,’ [and more collaborative].

MAN: In other words, the Smithsonian has moved on from that evaluation?

GWC: I think we’ve moved on a long way from that day. If you look around where we are with the arts, we’ve hired three new directors. [Richard Koshalek at the Hirshhorn, Johnnetta Cole at the National Museum of African Art and Bill Moggridge at the Cooper-Hewitt.] There’s a dramatically different cast of characters and you can feel the different energy they’ve brought. They’ve dramatically influenced the look and feel of those institutions, the exhibits they have and so on. You just hang around Richard Koshalek and you get excited.

MAN: For years there’s been buzz that the National Portrait Gallery and the Smithsonian American Art Museum could be merged. Will they be?

GWC: I don’t think there’s any discussion of that at the present time.

As cultural institutions, we need to – and I would include the Phillips in this – we need to start thinking together in many ways. It’s difficult to maintain financial capacity under present circumstances, to keep things as separate any more. Look at the Civil War. I’d like to work together with the National Gallery and the Library of Congress to do things together. Look at how the Hirshhorn did Yves Klein with the Walker.

MAN: Will any Smithsonian funds go toward the Hirshhorn ‘bubble’ plan?

GWC: They’re trying to raise most of it themselves. We’re all very interested in it and want it to happen. Heck, I’m thinking of moving my office over there. When you walk into that thing it’s going to be soaring to the sky. It’s going to be such a different thing for the Hirsh, something other than that forbidding circle of concrete. Plus what they’re doing with the bookstore and with the mirrors… and on top of it, Richard has this idea of levitating the building with lights you put on it in the evening and that’s going to be great for it.

MAN: That’s all great, but what about paying for it?

GWC: Richard Koshalek has a lot of contacts, that’s why we hired him. Our strategic plan isn’t just about thinking, it’s about resources. We knew we needed more money and that we have to rely less on the federal government to get where we’re going. We have to raise external funds to do these things. I’m not leaving him out there by himself. I’m working with him on sources. So we are working hard with him.

MAN: I don’t hear you committing or promising Castle funds to the ‘bubble.’

GWC: It’s possible under the right circumstances. We also think the ‘bubble,’ to some extent, will generate revenues. People will want to have their meetings there. It will be the place to be in Washington. Wouldn’t you want to go there?

MAN: None of the Smithsonian art museums has expanded in decades but all have seen their collections grow substantially over that time. Is that a concern, is that something the Smithsonian needs to look at?

GWC: Not at the present time. Property in Washington is pretty expensive.

MAN: At its most recent meeting, the Association of Art Museum Directors discussed the emergent question of ‘extra benefits,’ such as exhibitions based on a private collector’s holdings rather than on curatorial or academic inquiry. The New York Times put this question on its front page last November. Is it appropriate that a quasi-federal institution, one that receives substantial federal monies, hold exhibits made up entirely of two private collections, with those collections as the raison-d’etre of the show?

GWC: I think the question that comes to my mind is what’s your purpose? If you’re trying to help people appreciate art, are you restricted to your own collection or can you look to others. If you look at the Klein exhibit at the Hirshhorn, several of those pieces are from private collections. In my way of thinking about the [George Lucas/Steven Spielberg Norman Rockwell show at the Smithsonian American Art Museum], I don’t think you’re enhancing the value of those works of art.

MAN: Well, I think that’s not so much the issue I’m asking about. I’m not asking about including loans from private collections in a broader show, I’m asking about shows where the genesis of the show is to spotlight one or two people’s collection.

GWC: Obviously, I think this is one of those situations where you’re dealing with a nuanced decision. There are lots of those kinds of decisions. You want to show you’re dealing with a nuanced point and there’s a point to which you don’t want to go. You need to take it on a case by case basis and decide. If there’s educational value there, could it be enhanced by additional works of art? You should be within the bounds of a normal course of ethics and probably a higher course of ethics because we’re a quasi-federal institution, so there are things that would not apply to other museums. Whenever we tackle these things we need to make a conscious decision about it. It’s ok for us to do things that are slightly on the controversial side because if we do things that are non-controversial we become irrelevant.

MAN: The Smithsonian’s institutions house one of the world’s great collections of photography, but the Smithsonian doesn’t have any dedicated place to show those collections or the work of the Smithsonian Photography Initiative. Is finding a place or a space for them something you’d like to do?

GWC: I don’t think that photography is a [stand-alone] target for us. I think it comes naturally into certain subject areas that operate within in the Smithsonian because we’re a diverse institution. Photography is found in almost every unit. So you can hardly go to any of them where they don’t have some kind of photo collection.

I’m told we have a ‘small’ collection of 16 million photographs. This is where digital can help us, if we can in fact create digital images. There are issues associated with that. Everything  the Smithsonian does needs to be of high quality. Those images should be profound. We should be able to transmit them digitally — and you don’t want them to become digitally obsolete either. You could make images that in 20 years you can’t read. So there are obsolescence issues we should be concerned about.

There are opportunities for is in the photography space, in the digital space. Earhart’s plane is gorgeous and it would be great if you had photos of it. We’re in the process of making a digital photo archive as we digitize these gorgeous objects. There’s nothing more interesting to me than taking these three-dimensional objects – a plane, a tiger at the zoo — and converting them into a 3-D object digitally that you can manipulate. It’s going to be very exciting. Then also archiving our 2-D objects because thry’re profound and speak to us from a distance in meaningful way.

A MAN Q&A: Weston Naef on Muybridge, part three

Continued from Monday and this morning: I introduced MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Weston Naef. Part one. Part two.

MAN: So it sounds to me like you’re coming close to saying that all of the work attributed to Eadweard Muybridge before about 1872ish ought to be re-examined with other attributions in mind, especially Watkins? Or is that off by a little bit?

WN: Well, 1872 is the year we know that Muybridge had sufficient mastery of photography to have created the 51 mammoth plate pictures that bear his name.  It appears that Muybridge was still learning the elements of photography between 1868 and 1871.  To illustrate this, well, let’s return to the 1867 half-plates that are on ‘wall three’ in the Corcoran’s exhibition.

Wall three has several pictures that have the word ‘Helios’ inscribed in plates made with a camera that exposed negatives about 5.5 by 8.5 inches. The word ‘Helios’ is inscribed in these, but the puzzling thing is that the half-plate negatives are very uneven [quality-wise]. They are clumsy by comparison to the stereographs with “Helios”  dated in the exhibition labels to the year before or the year after, on the nearby walls. All but two of the half-plate negatives (as well as smaller copies of them published by Hittel in his Yosemite guidebook) are truly clumsy in their composition and their technique is imperfect.

Two of the half-plates on that wall, Piwyack, (Cataract of Stars;) “Vernal Fall,” 450 feet tall (4054), 1867 (above) and Summit of Third Fall of the Yosemite [4035], 1867 [both from the collection of Iris & B. Gerald Cantor Center for Visual Arts at Stanford University], are very closely related to Watkins pictures. One is the same viewpoint looking toward Vernal Fall with two trees to the right of center, a camera position that Watkins discovered first and made famous between 1859 and 1861. Coincidentally, both of these lack the word ‘Helios’ inscribed in the negatives and thus lack evidence of any association with Muybridge. It appears the maker of these half-plates was someone who had access to the only half-plate camera known to have been in Yosemite in 1867: That’s the Josiah Whitney survey camera, and it was known to have been  operated by two people: Carleton Watkins, who made 24 of the negatives that were published  in Whitney’s Yosemite Book in the form of mounted albumen prints. A handful of these were credited to a man named, “E. Harris,” and this mysterious E. Harris is the only other person known to have operated the Whitney half-plate camera in 1867.

This is admittedly speculative, but it leads to a ‘what if’ question, ‘What if Mr. E. Harris made the half-plate photographs that were eventually issued with the word ‘Helios’ inscribed on the negatives?’ In this case Muybridge could have acquired these following the method he had already proven, as we saw earlier when he was buying the rights to pre-existing patents, prints and books. He may now have entered into a new area of entrepreneurship of buying negatives. He’d then establish his ownership over them by inscribing ‘Helios,’ thus gaining clear title to the property. (This would not have been new: The way in which a publisher gained clear title to an engraving or lithograph was to put an identifying mark in the plate, block or stone.)

There’s another interesting note about the mysterious Mr. Harris: He was described in a letter between two of the Whitney survey party members as being a “scoundrel.” That leads to the further question: ‘Why E. Harris would have been considered a scoundrel?’ Maybe he’d done something quite inappropriate — such as using the Whitney Survey camera and then selling some of the negatives to Muybridge.

MAN: The next gallery in the Corcoran exhibition is pictures from Alaska?

WN: The Alaska pictures. Again, these have been dated to 1868. They are of superlative quality artistically and technically. So that brings us back to this nasty, imponderable question of when did Muybridge learn photography and how long did it take him to become a world-class master? If he arrived back in California from England in late 1867, and became a “publisher” of photographs as he said in his note to the Mercantile Society library directors (“I hope you will take a close look at the photographs I have published…”), would he have been in Alaska and made these pictures? Adding to this mystery is the fact that the geographer, George Davidson, who was Watkins’ friend and client, and a great believer in the utility of photography for his work, was in Alaska more than a year before Muybridge’s proposed travel there.  Given Davidson’s persistent use of photographs as evidence in other places, there’s no explanation for why Davidson would not have followed his own past methodology and included a photographer in his survey of Alaska as he had with his visits to other geographically notable places where he worked.

I don’t know. Muybridge being in Alaska in 1868 is problematic. Whoever made the pictures in Alaska that came to have the word ‘Helios’ inscribed in the negatives was a master of the highest order—they are spectacular compositionally and visually. When I say problematic, it all hinges on when and where Muybridge would have learned photography, and whether he could have acquired the negatives from their maker and marked them ‘Helios’, as he did with other works he published. And as I said before, there simply is no evidence Muybridge practiced photography when he was in England between 1860 and 1866. That is the only scenario that would open the possibility that he could have made pictures of the quality we see in the exhibition dated to 1867 and 1868.

MAN: On many of Muybridge’s stereographs we see the phrase, “illustrated by Muybridge.” Could that be a key, a hint a tip-off? As I recall, you noticed that “illustrated by Muybridge” seems to be the phrase he used on the questionable stereographs and so on.

WN: Yes, I drew attention to that point when you and I walked through the Corcoran’s exhibition because it is indeed peculiar. To use the word ‘illustrated’ is a kind of euphemism. It’s not the same as saying, “I made this.” It’s the kind of it’s the kind of phrase that relates more to the process of editing something or publishing something. Using the phrase “illustrated by” seems to be avoiding the issue of whether the statement, ‘I made this,’  is the truth. Previous to now, almost all experts who have studied Muybridge stereographs have interpreted the statement ‘illustrated by’ as ‘I made this.’ But I am now beginning to doubt whether this is the correct interpretation.

MAN: So what about the Corcoran’s room of Yosemite Valley mammoth plate pictures in particular? It’s an exceptionally stunning, striking, awe-inspiring gallery, full of oh-my-god-level pictures. All but one of them are presented as Muybridges.

WN: So, when it comes to the question of who made the mammoth-plate pictures that were published by Bradley & Rulofson in 1872, all of them are marked with letterpress on the mounts in such a way that Muybridge was saying unambiguously, “I made this,” and there are no stylistic or other reasons to doubt that assertion. Muybridge operated the camera for at least 50 of the 51 mammoth plate Yosemite pictures with the name of Bradley & Rulofson also on their mounts. The interesting question is whether Watkins could have been standing nearby coaching him, since in 1872 Muybridge was still something of a novice at operating the very large camera. At least 40 of the 51 were made from camera positions that Watkins had discovered and returned to numerous times. Just a dozen or so were made with the camera in entirely new positions, which shows Muybridge was trying hard to discover new and original viewpoints for the big camera, but he was not able to do so in every instance.

MAN: Can you put into context how much this would change the story of early American photography?

WN: That’s a really good question because the issue that has been overlooked by almost all historians is the incredible leadership and mentoring role Watkins played in the history of photography in California.

He was a genius who created vastly more pictures than anyone else in California of his time:  More than 1,400 mammoth-plate pictures, 5,000 stereographs, as well as dozens upon dozens of daguerreotypes. He had a 40-year career. He was the first photographer in America to use a very large camera and created hundreds of pictures with it up and down the Pacific Coast — about a quarter of which were made in places accessible only on foot or horseback. This kind of intrepid commitment to photography inspired one of his contemporaries on the Whitney survey to call Watkins ‘The Immortal One.’

So the most important thing about the Corcoran’s Muybridge exhibit — and also the recent Timothy O’Sullivan exhibit at the Smithsonian American Art Museum — is that the names of both of the other photographers are to most people today, even to most experts, better known that that of Watkins, whose body of work in quality and quantity is awesome.

MAN: Do you think it likely that we’re looking at a wave of re-attributions away from Muybridge and toward Watkins and possibly others, a re-consideration of a key period of the history of photography in America?

WN: I think that it’s in part the stereographs that would seem to be most open to reattribution, yes. The Yosemite half-plates I think show great potential [for same], as well as those mammoth plate photographs that are on the mounts of Thomas Houseworth & Co. with no indication of who made the negatives, some of which having been attributed over the years to Muybridge based on very little evidence, must also be reconsidered, I think.

A total of 51 pictures were published by Bradley & Rulofson with Muybridge’s name on the mounts. What we know for certain is that Muybridge claimed authorship of those 51 pictures.  They are the most important evidence for the style and character of Muybridge’s vision before the animal locomotion pictures with which he is most frequently identified today. Those 51 pictures published by Bradley & Rulofson should be studied carefully for their stylistic attributes and should be compared item-for-item with images that were made in some of the very same places by Watkins. When this is done I predict Watkins will be proven to be considered Muybridge’s mentor. Art history is all about how the baton of invention is passed from one artist to another. I think in the future a published catalogue of all 51 of Muybridge’s 1872 mammoth plates needs to be prepared and the same for the more than 70 mammoth plate photographs published by Thomas Houseworth & Co. that have not yet been analyzed as to who could have made the negatives. These tools will be essential to get to the next level of understanding regarding mammoth plate photography in California.

Philip Brookman and the several collaborators in the Muybridge project, including Marta Braun, Corey Keller, Rebecca Solnit, Andy Grundberg, left many unanswered questions regarding Muybridge’s development as an artist, but they created a book and exhibition that is a feast for the eyes and full of food for thought.

Tomorrow: Corcoran curator Philip Brookman.

Related: Introducing MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with Naef. Part one. Part two. I play detective and find a Watkins-Muybridge too.

A MAN Q&A: Weston Naef on Eadweard Muybridge, part two

Continued from Monday, when I introduced MAN’s June Newsmaker Q&A with curator and scholar Weston Naef. Part one is here. Part three is here.

MAN: That question, about whether Eadweard Muybridge  could have returned to California in 1867 or 1868 with the skills to be a world-class artist, brings us back to the first galleries of the Corcoran exhibition. Suddenly, in 1867 and 1868 we get the stereographs and a couple of other works that open the Corcoran’s retrospective. As I understand it, in the year or so since your retirement from the J. Paul Getty Museum you’ve been spending a lot of time with Carleton Watkins’ stereographs from this same period. While you were reading the Muybridge catalogue you discovered some surprises.

Weston Naef: Yes. I was studying the catalogue and discovered on page 57, figure number 41 an [1872] image of the laying of the cornerstone of the San Francisco City Hall. [Image above: Grand Masonic Ceremony Laying the Cornerstone of the City Hall and Law Courts, 1872. Collection of California Historical Society, Virginia M. Storti Collection. Special thanks to the Corcoran for making this image available.] On the exhibition label and book captions Muybridge is listed as the maker of the work, but in fact we know the stereo negative is by Carleton Watkins, whose authorship is chronicled on the CarletonWatkins.org website, where we see that an Old Series stereograph No. 1614 is known to have been from a negative by Watkins. [See below, click here for full-screen version.] This raises the question of Muybridge’s possible routine use of negatives by Watkins and other photographers during the period when he could have been learning the  craft of photography in California. This matter merits further examination. I do not think that we will find this case to be an isolated example. I predict that list of photographs from negatives Muybridge acquired from other photographers will prove to be lengthy.

MAN: And this led you back to other stereographs?

WN: Yes. I started looking carefully at all the stereographs in the exhibition dated to before 1872 to determine whether any of them could be found to have further association with Watkins or any other photographers and what I have discovered is that especially on ‘wall two’ of the exhibition — if ‘wall one’ consists of the broadsides –  ‘wall two’ merited more examination. It has four of the most spectacular stereographs that have ‘Helios’ inscribed in the negatives. These are works of definite world-class quality, including ‘The Woodchopper From Behind’ [titled in the exhibition 'The Astonished Woodchopper'], but most importantly, each of those pictures has elements that can be found in other Carleton Watkins stereographs. My prediction is that once the entire Carleton Watkins catalogue of stereographs is studied carefully, paying close attention to the gaps in numbering of Watkins’ series where there is a title for a work and a number in a sequence of the stereographs, but oddly no image has been recorded despite ten years or more of work by scholars and experts, my expectation is that there will be matches found between missing Watkins stereographs and many of the 1867-1871 pictures attributed to Muybridge.

It seems very likely that when Muybridge returned to San Francisco in 1867 that he would have acquired — in the same way he acquired patents and the rights to publish books — he would have used the same kind of method to establish himself in a new business in San Francisco, and that new business would have been as a publisher of photographs rather than as a maker of them. There is no evidence for how in 1868 he could have gained the mastery required to make many of the exceptional small works that are on view in the first several galleries.  The mystery remains:  When did Muybridge perform the 10,000 hours of practice in photography that people who are involved in studying the psychology of learning believe is required to become a world-class master in any subject?

MAN: Gaps in Watkins’ stereographic record appear to be critical here. It’s those gaps that you think may be missing because Watkins sold the rights to or licensed (or whatever the appropriate 19thC term would be) to Muybridge. Can you give us a quick explanation of what stereographic numbering was, and by extension why it is critical to your theory?

WN: Stereographs were among the very first photographs to fit what we generally think of as published works, as works that exist in more than one copy destined for sale to the public. [Photographers typically had] a numbered catalogue from which people – that is, vendors or collectors – could order the stereographs.

So item No. 1 in the list of almost 5,000 stereos that Carleton Watkins created over about 40 years of time is assigned to a work titled, Starting Out, and the picture represents a group of horseback riders posed in a meadow in Yosemite Valley, in the vicinity of Yosemite Falls. (The later  paper versions of the same picture bear the less evocative title, Yosemite Falls.) The sequence tells us that this picture is at the beginning of Watkins’ work in Yosemite Valley.  Based on an engraving we believe it was made before the fall of 1859.

MAN: How many of Watkins’ 5,000 stereographs have been matched to where they fit in the sequence?

WN: I think that approximately 3,000 have the images have been found and are chronicled on the website CarletonWatkins.org, which is a remarkable public resource. About 1,000-2,000 are missing and it appears at this point that Watkins sold hundreds of negatives to other photographers. He sold or traded them to others who issued them over their own names without crediting him, including E. & H.T. Anthony in New York and Benjamin W. Kilburn in Vermont and,  now we find, apparently Muybridge, who was Watkins’ good friend.

MAN: Such a Muybridge-Watkins transaction or transactions would not be anomaly, right? There is documented evidence that they had a long-standing professional relationship.

WN: Right. In 1858 in his San Francisco bookstore, Muybridge expressed his admiration for Watkins by exhibiting in his bookstore a mammoth-plate print Watkins made looking west from Telegraph Hill toward the Golden Gate. We know about the fact Muybridge displayed it from favorable comments published on the occasion in the Alta California newspaper. [Image: Carleton Watkins, Golden Gate from Telegraph Hill, San Francisco. Year unknown. The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley, via Calisphere.]

The early close friendship between Watkins and Muybridge is also evidenced when Watkins wrote a collector named Henry Laurencil in 1859. The letter said that Laurencil could pay a substantial amount of money owed Watkins to either Watkins or to Muybridge. So Watkins and Muybridge were well-known to each other long before Muybridge returned to San Francisco in 1867. This close working relationship between Watkins and Muybridge cannot be underestimated and should be taken into consideration  when analyzing the later work Muybridge did in 1872 and regarding motion studies for which he became world famous.

MAN: There are a number of reasons Watkins might have kept certain stereographs and other images and published, sold and/or distributed them under his name, while selling the rights to other images for publishers to sell explicitly not under his name. One of course is the desire or need to make extra money. But there are other reasons, I presume?

WN: Let’s look at a 19th-century artist through the lens of people living in the 21st century and what we know is the behavior pattern of all kinds of artists: In order to stand out, artists typically choose a specific perspective or viewpoint to establish an identity. With his Yosemite pictures in particular, Watkins elected to identify with an interpretation of Yosemite Valley as a pre-Edenic paradise. Remember, he was one of the first visitors there and he understood the magical spell that this beautiful place cast on anyone who visited there. In at least the first five or six years of his time photographing Yosemite, Watkins persistently eliminated any figures from his views of wild nature. He seems to have deliberately excluded figures in all but a handful of his mammoth plate Yosemite views.

But we know from the total body of Carleton Watkins’ mammoth plate work made in places other than Yosemite that he frequently included not just individuals, but large groups of people. He was a master of orchestrating scenes in front of hotels, railroad stations, mines, factories and such that were heavily populated. Also, many of his stereographs are definitely figurative.

It seems that because Watkins first established his identity as someone who was seeing California as a virginal palace, he would have been more willing to part with those [Yosemite] pictures that had figurative elements. Remember, Watkins made many stereographs that were highly figurative: A Fourth of July celebration in 1863, crowds of people in San Francisco in an open square, crowds at the launching of a vessel,   Moreover, Watkins built up an entire body of work of figurative landscape. There’s a common misconception that Watkins was anti-figurative and one of the things that we believe — or believed – that began to distinguish the Muybridge work was the inclusion of figures, especially in the 1872 Yosemite  mammoth plate pictures, where the most notable difference between the work of  Watkins’ and that of Muybridge is the inclusion of a single figure in many of the pictures.

Continued in part three.

Only on MAN: The newest Eadweard Muybridge mystery

Typically when a museum holds an exhibition of a major artist, say Goya, it’s a sure thing that the works on view were indeed made by Goya. After all, the overwhelming majority of artists receiving the retrospective treatment are known quantities whose oeuvres have been studied by scholars for generations. Consensus has emerged.

Not so with Eadweard Muybridge, who is the subject of an extraordinary, first-ever retrospective at the Corcoran Gallery of Art. Curated by Corcoran chief curator Philip Brookman, the exhibition includes more than 300 objects by and related to Muybridge, from stereographs of Yosemite and the Mariposa Grove to Muybridge’s groundbreaking ‘animal locomotion’ pictures and the related equipment, all of which help paved the way for motion pictures. Because this much Muybridge material has never been accumulated in one exhibition before, the show represents a significant opportunity for scholars to examine the oeuvre of a key pioneer of American photography. The Corcoran’s exhibition will travel to London’s Tate Britain in September and then to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in February, 2011. [Image: Eadweard Muybridge, Pi-Wi-Ack (Shower of Stars), Vernal Fall, 400 Feet, Valley of Yosemite, 1872. Collection SFMOMA.]

But: Are all of the pictures in the exhibition by Eadweard Muybridge? In an exclusive Q&A — the first in a new monthly Q&A series, ‘Newsmakers on MAN’ — Weston J. Naef (below), the recently retired founding curator of photography at the J. Paul Getty Museum and former curator of photography at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, told MAN that he doesn’t think so. Naef thinks that many images traditionally attributed to Muybridge are in fact by Muybridge’s friend and rival Carleton Watkins, and perhaps other photographers as well.

Naef is the foremost expert on Watkins and has organized numerous exhibitions of Watkins’ work. Naef’s catalogue raisonne of Watkins’ large-format pictures, titled “Carleton Watkins: The Complete Mammoth Photographs,” is scheduled for publication in 2011 by Getty Publications. Naef’s examinations could lead to a re-consideration of early American photographic history and a new understanding of how the iconography of the American West was made, presented, sold and distributed. The emergent Muybridge debate also provides an opportunity to see both art and American history as its being determined and debated, a real-life art history mystery-in-progress.

“I think that it’s in part the stereographs that would seem to be most open to reattribution,” Naef told MAN. “The half-plates I think show great potential [for same] and those pix that are on the mounts of Thomas Houseworth & Co. that have been attributed to Muybridge have to be reconsidered, I think.” In the MAN Q&A, Naef effectively calls for substantial investigation into Muybridge’s pre-1872 oeuvre, including his stereographs, his pictures of Yosemite, Alaska, San Francisco and more.

Naef explains why he thinks that stereographs attributed to Muybridge were in fact taken by Watkins, who sold the negatives to Muybridge. Muybridge then printed and sold them under his own name.

“I think from what I’ve seen and knowing what I know about Muybridge — and I’m not an expert on Watkins by any mean and Weston is –  I think yes Muybridge published pictures by other people,” Brookman said. “Some by Watkins potentially, but I think Muybridge was also a photographer and a significant photographer.”

Naef told MAN that he made what he believes to be links between Muybridge-published works and Watkins when he read the Corcoran’s catalogue shortly after researching Watkins at the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Mass. The AAS organizes its stereograph collection by subject and not by author, so as Naef studied images of San Francisco, he found images published by Muybridge that he believes fit into Watkins’ stereographic sequence.

Brookman acknowledged that a first-of-its-kind exhibition such as his Muybridge exhibition – which has been four years in the making – is likely to raise these kinds of questions, to lead other scholars, curators and historians to new understandings of how history happened. “I think it’s fascinating,” Brookman said. “In fact, there’s just so much we don’t know about all this stuff and for me the real frustration is not having the time to sit down and put all the pieces together. That takes a tremendous amount of time. What I think is that I never really knew Muybridge until the show was on the wall. You do all this research and you look at all this stuff and you have this investigation in your head and on your computer, but you also don’t have it in your head because no one’s done it before. When you’re a curator you don’t really have a show until you look at it all in one place, on the walls. By that point all your research and writing is done and you think, ‘Hmmm. Maybe it’s different [from what we all originally thought].” [Image: Eadweard Muybridge, Progress of Construction, U.S. Branch Mint, 1870. Collection of California Historical Society via Calisphere.]

This week MAN will feature a three-part Q&A with Naef in which he discusses why Muybridge’s early oeuvre should be re-examined. (The first part of our Q&A is published here.) Naef’s argument is particularly focused around Muybridge’s career as a businessman, when Muybridge might have learned photography, Muybridge’s business relationship with Watkins and a different interpretation of research first revealed in the Corcoran catalogue. MAN will also feature a Q&A with Brookman on Muybridge and the emerging historical debate, as well as posts on the work in the show, examples of how Brookman tied certain works to Muybridge, examples of identical images considered to be by both photographers and more.

The June MAN Newsmaker Q&A:

A MAN Q&A: Weston Naef on Eadweard Muybridge, part one

The introduction to this MAN ‘Newsmaker’ Q&A with Weston Naef is here. Part one is below. Part two is here. Part three is here.

MAN: Today when we think of Eadweard Muybridge we think of early American photography and of the devices he built and used that led to motion pictures. But I think that for the purposes of your story we should start before Muybridge was interested in any of that, with Muybridge’s arrival in San Francisco in the mid-1850s. Tell us how he started out in San Francisco.

Weston Naef: So, the very first objects in this really remarkable exhibition – remarkable because it has brought together more works by Muybridge or associated with Muybridge than any other exhibition before it — are two documents that reveal Muybridge’s basic instincts. They are broadsides issued by Muybridge in San Francisco when he was there for the first time, between 1855 and 1860. These broadsides advertised books and works of graphic art that Muybridge published in San Francisco, books and graphic works that were first published elsewhere, but that had his name on them as publisher on the West Coast. [Image: Unknown photographer, possibly Silas Selleck, Eadweard J. Muybridge, about 1869. Collection MFA Boston.]

At the outset we learn from objects on view here at the Corcoran that in San Francisco in the 1850s Muybridge was a publisher and bookseller, not a writer, artist or photographer. He was not an originator of what he published: He bought rights from other publishers to reissue books and prints in San Francisco. He had a talent for acquiring the publishing rights to items first published elsewhere and then reprinting and selling them in San Francisco. It’s important to Muybridge’s biography to understand his basic instincts — that he was an entrepreneur before he was a creator of writing or a creator of pictures.

MAN: Then in about 1860, Muybridge leaves California and returns to the country of his birth and to London, where he lives from late 1860 to 1866 or so. Fill us in on what he did in London.

WN: Before leaving San Francisco he sold his enterprise there to his brother and with money in his pockets headed to the East Coast on a Butterfield Stage. On route he was subjected to a stagecoach accident that greatly affected his life. He received a head injury from which he’d recover for the next four or five years.  Muybridge is soon found in London, sometime in late 1860. In research published by [Corcoran and exhibition curator Philip Brookman], Muybridge is recorded as being a patentee of a new kind of clothes-washing machine and a new method of printing with ink on paper. What’s interesting about both of these patents is that they’re in very different fields. They require quite different types of scientific and technical expertise, training that Muybridge lacked. [Image: Cover of Corcoran catalogue.]

So the question is: How could Muybridge have gained the expertise that would have allowed him to essentially invent a new kind of clothes-washing machine or acquire the expertise to have also patented a new form of printing? There are no documents that give the answer, but typical of his time, he would have bought the rights from others who did invent them, experts who were technically proficient in those respective issues. He no doubt bought the rights with the plan of exploiting the potential of those two new things.

Moreover, Philip Brookman reports that Muybridge was among the directors of a British-owned, Nevada silver-mining company and of the newly formed Bank of Turkey. What these four items – the clothes-washing machine patent, the printing press patent, the mining investment and the bank directorship — what they have in common is that these are the activities of entrepreneurs or investors, of people deploying capital to move forward rather than being on the front line of creating or inventing.

Also, at this point in London there seems to be no documentation that Muybridge was interested in art or in photography. This raises the question: When did Muybridge learn the fussy procedures of photography — to operate a camera, and to mix the chemicals required to coat and sensitize a glass plate in the field, and to develop the plate in a tent nearby afterward, and then to make prints from the negatives with nothing but the sun as catalyst? When did he become a photographer?  It typically took other photographers several years of practice to master the steps required for world-class accomplishment.

This issue is one of the unsolved mysteries of Muybridge’s biography that the exhibition and the accompanying book fail to adequately address. Curator-author [Brookman] makes the case that Eadweard Muybridge must have learned photography in London, because when he arrived back in San Francisco in late 1867, Muybridge listed himself in the San Francisco City Directory as a “landscape photographer, doing business at “415 Montgomery Street.” However, there is no evidence through exhibitions or in photographic societies’ membership lists that Muybridge was involved in photography when he was in London for those prior years. If he had been active to the point of becoming a world-class master he certainly would have been on exhibition lists or on the rosters of the photography societies there.

So, when Muybridge was in London in the 1860s, the facts show that one of his talents was to deploy his capital to acquire assets in hopes the investments would turn a profit.  When Muybridge returned to San Francisco, it stands to reason that he would follow the same pattern: spend money to acquire assets in the hope they would be profitable. [Image: Wm. Vick, Eadweard Muybridge, date unknown. Collection of The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.]

MAN: By somewhere around 1867 or 1868 Muybridge is back in San Francisco, going back into business as a publisher. And through this point, there is still no record of him having learned how to take pictures, let alone really good ones, right?

WN: That’s right. An important document regarding Muybridge’s relationship to photography is the note he wrote to the Mercantile Society Library directors on May, 14, 1868, where he signs his name as Eadweard J. Muybridge and where he refers to photographs of Yosemite Valley as being “published by me.” I think it’s very telling that in this early document, written in the first person voice, Muybridge refers to photographs of Yosemite Valley as  “published by me.” Not taken by me, “published by me.”

He identified the photographs he published with the word “Helios” inscribed in the negatives. One explanation for the use of the pseudonym “Helios” could have been to remain anonymous. All he needed on the picture was an identifying mark to establish ownership of an asset (the negative) that had been acquired as an investment from its maker (who relinquished all rights) in the hope of profiting from the sale of prints in the same way he did business reprinting books and engravings created by others in San Francisco in the 1850s.

Wall two of the exhibition is installed with a group of stereographs of exceptional quality visually and technically.  Each of the stereographs has the word “Helios” inscribed in t he negative and all are dated in the exhibition to before 1870.  Based on the ‘Helios’ inscriptions authorship of these stereographs has been traditionally given to Muybridge. There is no other documentation to establish their authorship. However, on wall three we find a group of photographs made with a different camera, one that exposed negatives 8 1/2-by-5 1/2 inches in size, known as a “half-plate” because the negatives were approximately one half the size of a whole-plate camera designed to expose 10-by-8 inch negatives. The half-plate Yosemite pictures with “Helios” inscribed are stylistically different from the stereographs bearing the same mark on wall two and elsewhere in the exhibition, which raises the question of whether the same eye could have conceived both groups of pictures?

That raises another real issue: Was Muybridge a master of photography in 1868? Was he able to make technically perfect pictures and to compose them in a word-class fashion on the day he arrived back in San Francisco? If we say ‘yes’ to that question, then the conclusion is that Muybridge must have learned the craft of photography in London. But, returning to the facts, there is no evidence whatsoever that he practiced photography in London. There isn’t a single surviving photo with his name on it or attributed to him of any British or European subject! Moreover, his name isn’t on membership lists of photographic societies or found in any exhibition lists, so it seems highly unlikely, contrary to current understanding, that Muybridge could have learned photography to the point of mastery while he was in London.

Consider this fact: To become a world-class expert in photography such as is demonstrated in the stereographs on wall two and elsewhere in the exhibition dated to before 1871 would have required the experience gained from having made hundreds if not the thousands of pictures, all of which would have to have been made in England.  Following the precedent set by other world class photographers of his time, Muybridge would have had to practice photography a few hours every day for several years to achieve the mastery shown in the stereographs that have ‘Helios’ inscribed in the negatives. This opens the question of whether Eadweard Muybridge himself actually created the negatives for those pictures, or whether he bought the negatives from other photographers. It seems to me that unless he learned the elements of photography in London and practiced photography there every day for several years, he would not have arrived back in California in 1867 with the skills necessary to be a world-class master of this art.

Continued in part two and in part three…