Selasa, 18 Juni 2013
Bad Education
The educational turn is a well-documented trend in contemporary art as evidenced by the proliferation, in the past 10 years, of artist-run schools and pedagogy projects, such as workshops, lectures, and discussion groups. More than just borrowing educational forms, artists are also adopting processes and methodologies that pedagogical frameworks offer, such as collaborative dialogues, action research, and experiential learning.
Though artists and educators may overlap in process, there are different criteria, expectations, and outcomes for projects that are invested in the world of art, and projects that are invested in the world of education. Is it possible that a good artwork amounts to a bad education? What are the expectations of each field, whose criteria will we use to evaluate these projects, and where is there convergence?
Helen Reed met Pablo Helguera at the MoMA Staff Café, in New York to chat about some of the current intersections between art and education. Helguera has worked between these fields for over 20 years. He observes, in his publication Education For Socially Engaged Art that “education today is fueled by progressive ideas, ranging from critical pedagogy and inquiry based learning to the exploration of creativity in early childhood. For this reason it is important to understand the existing structures of education and to learn how to innovate within them. To offer a critique, for example, the old-fashioned boarding school system of memorization today would be equivalent, in the art world, to mounting a fierce attack on a nineteenth-century art movement.”[i] With this acknowledgement in mind – of the blind spots between disciplines – we discussed the relationship between presentation and making, learning outcomes versus abstract education, and how to be revolutionary and at the same time institutional.
Helen Reed: As a place to start, I want to refer to the introduction of Education for Socially Engaged Art. You mentioned that you came to art and education simultaneously, and that consequently you noticed many similarities between the two fields. Can you describe the kinds of crossovers that you noticed, and how these parallels influenced your practice?
Pablo Helguera: I was at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, which happens to be a school and a museum. It’s an institution that is connected by a bridge, between the school and the museum. Immediately, I was exposed to a relationship with art that was between presentation and making. I was broke as a student and I started working at the museum, first as part of a paid internship. I would cross the bridge all the time, between one place and the other. I would be in my dirty painting clothes in the classroom then I would get very preppy to go into the other environment. I did not think anything about being in the education department, but I just happened to gravitate there because I was bilingual and because they needed people for outreach, etc. I made sense there. So it’s not something that I particularly chose.
But the moment I started to realize that teaching is very much connected to performing then I started noticing points at which things started to connect. When I graduated from school I was already doing performative lectures and the like. I started becoming interested in what became known as Institutional Critique, artists who were appropriating the modes of display within museums. So I was doing a lot of that in the early 90s. I became very interested in fiction and the whole idea that you, as an artist, can construct this environment that really questions the limit of what you consider reality. Museums become particularly attractive when you are interested in fiction. That is what a lot of Institutional Critique artists do, modifying certain aspects of the interior of the space, which all of a sudden make you realize that there is something else going on. In doing so, you are altering the protocols, the regular expectations. So I started doing that, but I still didn’t see a direct connection to education for a while. But eventually I realized that the best thing I can do is to bring what I’m learning from the environment of the institution into my own work. And I started creating fictional museums, fictional artists, and those fictional artists started having biographies and bodies of work and interpretive materials. I was much more interested in the peripheral components of an artwork than the art work itself.
I remember once, in Portland, I did a piece at a University that was called Mock Turtle. There was a whole exhibition around an object that nobody could see, but there were hundreds of labels and interpretive materials around this object. Supposedly it’s a turtle that you can see inside a box, but you can’t really see it. It’s this idea of how the object is basically unnecessary; it’s really more the stories around the object and how the contextual framework, the interpretive framework of the object is what really matters in the end, and that this is what really influences our perception of it.
By that time, Relational Aesthetics was in vogue. Artists were out there doing projects that were based on creating intersubjective relationships. But I became suspicious of the quality of those exchanges. I remember I was working at the Guggenheim, seeing artists like Rirkrit Tiravanija presenting projects. And I remember, for example, once, Rirkrit saying he wanted to do a project that used a gallery for children’s activities. I remember the curator calling us in the education department and being like “Quick, quick we have to come up with kids and bring them to the gallery to do activities with them.” Nothing against Rirkrit, but I felt that the whole project was so haphazard and so artificial. Because really, we are pretending that we are doing education here, that we were creating a great experience for these kids. I have no idea what ended up happening with the project. But those were the kind of experiences that made me suddenly realize: isn’t it interesting that I’m here, a mere educator, like many other educators who actually know very well how to produce these experiences, that’s our expertise; and yet we have absolutely no power over this certain situation where people, who know absolutely nothing about these audiences, decide they want to do an educational experience for them in the guise of an artwork, which has to happen promptly and efficiently. And the action will likely be covered by art magazines; by people who know absolutely nothing about these audiences, and then they will most likely be convinced that something really great happened. While those, who supposedly the activity was created for, most likely were hurried into a situation self-proclaimed as educational and perhaps manipulated into being photographed as part of the documentation.
This is a very common tendency of museums that dates back to the 80s when institutions were trying to do multicultural inclusion in galleries. So you would bring a bunch of kids from the low income neighborhoods, give them a T-shirt from the museum and stand them in front of the steps of the museum, and then show the photo to the funders. Whatever they do there, whatever experience they have there doesn’t really matter, what really matters is that those kids of color are in front of the gates of the museum. Those are the kind of experiences that made me realize that I don’t want to make that kind of “relational” art. I don’t want to make art that’s about saying that I did something. I want to make art that does something. I don’t always care whether people understand or not that I am doing it, but I want to know for my own sake that what I did had that impulse.
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