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Reflections in the Aftermath of an Exhibition
By Contributor on Sep 25th, 2009
http://www.asbarez.com/2009/09/25/reflection s-in-the-aftermath-of-an-exhibition/
BY RAMELA GRIGORIAN ABBAMONTIAN
Earlier this year, I was asked by the sub-committee of the City of
Glendale's officials and community artists to be the Guest Curator for
the city's Annual Commemorative Events exhibition. Three intensive
months later, the exhibition, ultimately titled `Man's Inhumanity to
Man: Journey Out of Darkness . . .' opened at the Brand Library Art
Galleries on April 4, 2009 and was on view until May 8, 2009. Over
seventy works, including paintings, sculptures, installations, and
photographs by forty-four artists were represented in the show. The
list of artists included familiar Armenian artists such as Ara
Oshagan, Kaloust Guedel, Alina Mnatsakanian, Sophia Gasparian, and
Zareh as well as well-known non-Armenian artists such as Ruth
Weisberg, Mark Vallen, Poli Marichal, Lark (Larisa Pilisky), Beth
Bachenheimer, Hessam Abrishami, and Sheila Pinkel.
The exhibition was organized into three thematic sections to
illustrate the unfolding of various stages of a journey. The first
segment, Faces of Inhumanity, included works representing various
forms of atrocity throughout human history, including war, genocide,
forced labor, and homelessness. The physical, mental, and spiritual
aftershocks of inhumanity were explored in Scars of Inhumanity, which
portrayed survivors telling their stories, fragmented bodies and
identities, and the use of prayer as a means for transcending
grief. The final segment of the exhibition, Humanity's Triumph,
offered works that conveyed hope, survival, rebirth, and even
forgiveness - an alternative, or perhaps even a remedy, to inhumanity.
For an art historian, such an opportunity was a dream project: to have
at her disposal the provocative works of a number of artists and
construct the narrative that would be told about them. As an Armenian
familiar with the historical and visual repercussions of the Armenian
Genocide, I was also curious to see how non-Armenian artists
represented instances of historical or contemporary injustice. But my
interest was also tempered with caution: considering myself
comfortably versed in the work of Armenian artists in Los Angeles, I
wondered how their works would interact and dialogue with those of
non-Armenian artists and how this interaction could best be presented.
Multiple viewings of the over 300 submissions uncovered significant
themes, and I was able to identify an unfolding narrative, one that
the sub-committee and I eventually titled a `journey out of darkness.'
My training has taught me to examine artworks critically and interpret
them contextually. In other words, I rely on the visual strategies in
artworks to unveil their stories and perceive my role as the
decipherer and interpreter of these narratives. Yet I am also aware
that undoubtedly - though often unconsciously - I bring my own biases,
expectations, and even hopes to such an exhibition. Hence, I was often
plagued with the question of whether I was constructing a certain
desired narrative and had an agenda of my own, or whether the works
did indeed expose some underlying themes. I realized that I was, after
all, constructing a narrative as well as letting it emerge from the
pieces.
I also considered other, related questions: Were the works in this
exhibition, and similar visual representations of historical
realities, sufficient representations of their respective atrocities?
Can the magnitude of such things as war and genocide be appropriately
related in visual form? And, finally, are the representations
effective conduits for remembrance? I came to realize that artworks
did not necessarily function as historical documents, presenting for
the audience a truthful account of historical realities. Instead, they
were sites of memory, spaces through which the artists endeavored to
understand the events, their aftermath, and ultimately their own roles
and identities.
But we might also ask how, or whether, artists can visually articulate
a calamity, especially one they have not directly experienced, as was
the case for a number of artists in the show. In Memory Effects: The
Holocaust and the Art of Secondary Witnessing (2002), Dora Apel
suggests that postwar generation artists are `ultimately in the
position of unwilling post facto bystanders' and can, theoretically,
choose their specific position of identification: victim, bystander,
and even perpetrator (p. 4), positions assumed by several of the
exhibition's artists. In this way, the artists become `witnesses' to
these events, because even though they have not directly experienced
the inhumanities, they have nonetheless been privy to their
repercussions. Perhaps one of the exhibition's most potent ironies
turned out to be that, by assuming their roles, the artists made a
choice for the benefit of those to whom history did not offer that
choice.
The process of visual representation, then, becomes a means through
which the artists confront and construct historical memory. It
provides the instrument through which the artists, and through them
the audience, take on the responsibility of drawing on and preserving
historical memory. As one visitor to the exhibition aptly noted, the
pieces constituted `art that gives me eyes to see.' From this
perspective, the artworks are conduits to remembrance and, as Lorne
Shirinian puts it in Survivor Memoirs of the Armenian Genocide (1999)
regarding the use of photographs, `through remembering, the past is
retrieved and identity is recreated and affirmed'(p. 67).
But what impact, finally, did the display of works about the Armenian
Genocide placed alongside other catastrophic historical events have on
the viewing public, both Armenian and non? And what impact did such a
presentation have on the artists represented? A memorable moment
during the exhibition shed new light on these questions and helped
reactivate my own commitment to collaboration. It took place rather
unexpectedly, during the Artists' Question and Answer Session, one of
several events organized in conjunction with the show.
Originally intended as a forum where the audience could ask the
panelists questions about their artistic influences, motivations, and
meanings, the panel simultaneously served as an impromptu opportunity
for the artists to interact. Throughout the question-answer session
and especially at the end of the session, the artists - Sophia
Gasparian, Lark (Larisa Pilinsky), Poli Marichal, Hessam Abrishami,
Arpine Shakhbandaryan and Mark Vallen - began to engage each other as
much as the audience. They often eagerly turned to one another and
inquired about intent, purpose, and process. Each seemed to recognize
the same sense of artistic responsibility in engaging historical
atrocities that pervaded the work of the others. The artists' lively
interactions created an unexpected and contagious energy that spurred
the audience to ask even more spirited questions.
When the artists exchanged business cards at the end of the session,
the scene epitomized to me the critical need for Armenian artists to
engage non-Armenian artists in direct dialogue. Because many
contemporary Armenian artists emphasize the universal element in their
creative work, they often reject categorizations of their art as
exclusively or even primarily `Armenian' or `ethnic.' Consequently,
many Armenian artists place their efforts into appealing to a broader
audience, often at the expense of collaborating with other, similarly
`ethnic' artists. As the interactions among the artists participating
in the panel suggested, such collaborations are not only productive,
they are a natural extension and confirmation of the representational
issues the works themselves address.
This exhibition and accompanying programs were organized by the City
of Glendale Arts & Culture Commission, in collaboration with City of
Glendale's Cultural Affairs, a division of Parks, Recreation &
Community Services Department, Glendale Public Library/Brand Library,
and by a generous contribution from Advanced Development & Investment,
Inc.
Editor's Note: Ramela Grigorian Abbamontian received her Ph.D. in Art
History from UCLA. She is currently an Assistant Professor of Art
History at Pierce College.
You can reach her or any of the other contributors to Critics' Forum
at [email protected]. This and all other articles published in
this series are available online at www.criticsforum.org. To sign up
for a weekly electronic version of new articles, go to
www.criticsforum.org/join. Critics' Forum is a group created to
discuss issues relating to Armenian art and culture in the Diaspora.
By Contributor on Sep 25th, 2009
http://www.asbarez.com/2009/09/25/reflection s-in-the-aftermath-of-an-exhibition/
BY RAMELA GRIGORIAN ABBAMONTIAN
Earlier this year, I was asked by the sub-committee of the City of
Glendale's officials and community artists to be the Guest Curator for
the city's Annual Commemorative Events exhibition. Three intensive
months later, the exhibition, ultimately titled `Man's Inhumanity to
Man: Journey Out of Darkness . . .' opened at the Brand Library Art
Galleries on April 4, 2009 and was on view until May 8, 2009. Over
seventy works, including paintings, sculptures, installations, and
photographs by forty-four artists were represented in the show. The
list of artists included familiar Armenian artists such as Ara
Oshagan, Kaloust Guedel, Alina Mnatsakanian, Sophia Gasparian, and
Zareh as well as well-known non-Armenian artists such as Ruth
Weisberg, Mark Vallen, Poli Marichal, Lark (Larisa Pilisky), Beth
Bachenheimer, Hessam Abrishami, and Sheila Pinkel.
The exhibition was organized into three thematic sections to
illustrate the unfolding of various stages of a journey. The first
segment, Faces of Inhumanity, included works representing various
forms of atrocity throughout human history, including war, genocide,
forced labor, and homelessness. The physical, mental, and spiritual
aftershocks of inhumanity were explored in Scars of Inhumanity, which
portrayed survivors telling their stories, fragmented bodies and
identities, and the use of prayer as a means for transcending
grief. The final segment of the exhibition, Humanity's Triumph,
offered works that conveyed hope, survival, rebirth, and even
forgiveness - an alternative, or perhaps even a remedy, to inhumanity.
For an art historian, such an opportunity was a dream project: to have
at her disposal the provocative works of a number of artists and
construct the narrative that would be told about them. As an Armenian
familiar with the historical and visual repercussions of the Armenian
Genocide, I was also curious to see how non-Armenian artists
represented instances of historical or contemporary injustice. But my
interest was also tempered with caution: considering myself
comfortably versed in the work of Armenian artists in Los Angeles, I
wondered how their works would interact and dialogue with those of
non-Armenian artists and how this interaction could best be presented.
Multiple viewings of the over 300 submissions uncovered significant
themes, and I was able to identify an unfolding narrative, one that
the sub-committee and I eventually titled a `journey out of darkness.'
My training has taught me to examine artworks critically and interpret
them contextually. In other words, I rely on the visual strategies in
artworks to unveil their stories and perceive my role as the
decipherer and interpreter of these narratives. Yet I am also aware
that undoubtedly - though often unconsciously - I bring my own biases,
expectations, and even hopes to such an exhibition. Hence, I was often
plagued with the question of whether I was constructing a certain
desired narrative and had an agenda of my own, or whether the works
did indeed expose some underlying themes. I realized that I was, after
all, constructing a narrative as well as letting it emerge from the
pieces.
I also considered other, related questions: Were the works in this
exhibition, and similar visual representations of historical
realities, sufficient representations of their respective atrocities?
Can the magnitude of such things as war and genocide be appropriately
related in visual form? And, finally, are the representations
effective conduits for remembrance? I came to realize that artworks
did not necessarily function as historical documents, presenting for
the audience a truthful account of historical realities. Instead, they
were sites of memory, spaces through which the artists endeavored to
understand the events, their aftermath, and ultimately their own roles
and identities.
But we might also ask how, or whether, artists can visually articulate
a calamity, especially one they have not directly experienced, as was
the case for a number of artists in the show. In Memory Effects: The
Holocaust and the Art of Secondary Witnessing (2002), Dora Apel
suggests that postwar generation artists are `ultimately in the
position of unwilling post facto bystanders' and can, theoretically,
choose their specific position of identification: victim, bystander,
and even perpetrator (p. 4), positions assumed by several of the
exhibition's artists. In this way, the artists become `witnesses' to
these events, because even though they have not directly experienced
the inhumanities, they have nonetheless been privy to their
repercussions. Perhaps one of the exhibition's most potent ironies
turned out to be that, by assuming their roles, the artists made a
choice for the benefit of those to whom history did not offer that
choice.
The process of visual representation, then, becomes a means through
which the artists confront and construct historical memory. It
provides the instrument through which the artists, and through them
the audience, take on the responsibility of drawing on and preserving
historical memory. As one visitor to the exhibition aptly noted, the
pieces constituted `art that gives me eyes to see.' From this
perspective, the artworks are conduits to remembrance and, as Lorne
Shirinian puts it in Survivor Memoirs of the Armenian Genocide (1999)
regarding the use of photographs, `through remembering, the past is
retrieved and identity is recreated and affirmed'(p. 67).
But what impact, finally, did the display of works about the Armenian
Genocide placed alongside other catastrophic historical events have on
the viewing public, both Armenian and non? And what impact did such a
presentation have on the artists represented? A memorable moment
during the exhibition shed new light on these questions and helped
reactivate my own commitment to collaboration. It took place rather
unexpectedly, during the Artists' Question and Answer Session, one of
several events organized in conjunction with the show.
Originally intended as a forum where the audience could ask the
panelists questions about their artistic influences, motivations, and
meanings, the panel simultaneously served as an impromptu opportunity
for the artists to interact. Throughout the question-answer session
and especially at the end of the session, the artists - Sophia
Gasparian, Lark (Larisa Pilinsky), Poli Marichal, Hessam Abrishami,
Arpine Shakhbandaryan and Mark Vallen - began to engage each other as
much as the audience. They often eagerly turned to one another and
inquired about intent, purpose, and process. Each seemed to recognize
the same sense of artistic responsibility in engaging historical
atrocities that pervaded the work of the others. The artists' lively
interactions created an unexpected and contagious energy that spurred
the audience to ask even more spirited questions.
When the artists exchanged business cards at the end of the session,
the scene epitomized to me the critical need for Armenian artists to
engage non-Armenian artists in direct dialogue. Because many
contemporary Armenian artists emphasize the universal element in their
creative work, they often reject categorizations of their art as
exclusively or even primarily `Armenian' or `ethnic.' Consequently,
many Armenian artists place their efforts into appealing to a broader
audience, often at the expense of collaborating with other, similarly
`ethnic' artists. As the interactions among the artists participating
in the panel suggested, such collaborations are not only productive,
they are a natural extension and confirmation of the representational
issues the works themselves address.
This exhibition and accompanying programs were organized by the City
of Glendale Arts & Culture Commission, in collaboration with City of
Glendale's Cultural Affairs, a division of Parks, Recreation &
Community Services Department, Glendale Public Library/Brand Library,
and by a generous contribution from Advanced Development & Investment,
Inc.
Editor's Note: Ramela Grigorian Abbamontian received her Ph.D. in Art
History from UCLA. She is currently an Assistant Professor of Art
History at Pierce College.
You can reach her or any of the other contributors to Critics' Forum
at [email protected]. This and all other articles published in
this series are available online at www.criticsforum.org. To sign up
for a weekly electronic version of new articles, go to
www.criticsforum.org/join. Critics' Forum is a group created to
discuss issues relating to Armenian art and culture in the Diaspora.