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A Proposition: The Studio Museum Moving Forward

In early 2018, the Studio Museum in Harlem closed its doors to the public in preparation for a radical three- year renovation project which aims to not only expand its galleries, but also—and perhaps most importantly—to establish the museum as a true nexus for the collection, display, and discussion of work by artists of African descent. In this essay, I utilize the exhibition "Fictions"—particularly artist Genevieve Gaignard’s installation, "Kings and Queens" (2017)—as a lens through which to critically examine the ways in which the Studio Museum both succeeds and falters in accomplishing its mission statement. From here, I make suggestions as to the kinds of political, artistic, and aesthetic questions the Studio Museum should ask itself during this period of profound national and institutional transition, especially as they relate to current concerns over the intersections of race, history, violence, immigration, and religion. The essay concludes with an exhibition pitch for the museum’s inaugural show in 2021, which I propose should embody a convergence of Black excellence and perseverance in the past, present, and future.

A Proposition: The Studio Museum Moving Forward NICOLAS OCHART University of Connecticut, Class of 2018 ABSTRACT In early 2018, the Studio Museum in Harlem closed its doors to the public in preparation for a radical three- year renovation project which aims to not only expand its galleries, but also—and perhaps most importantly—to establish the museum as a true nexus for the collection, display, and discussion of work by artists of African descent. In this essay, I utilize the exhibition Fictions—particularly artist Genevieve Gaignard’s installation, Kings and Queens (2017)—as a lens through which to critically examine the ways in which the Studio Museum both succeeds and falters in accomplishing its mission statement. From here, I make suggestions as to the kinds of political, artistic, and aesthetic questions the Studio Museum should ask itself during this period of profound national and institutional transition, especially as they relate to current concerns over the intersections of race, history, violence, immigration, and religion. The essay concludes with an exhibition pitch for the museum’s inaugural show in 2021, which I propose should embody a convergence of Black excellence and perseverance in the past, present, and future. In 1968 The Studio Museum in Harlem opened its doors at 2033 Fifth Avenue—the brainchild of a diverse group of artists, activists, and philanthropists committed to developing a space for the exhibition of art by African Americans. The very concept of a museum in New York City devoted exclusively to works by Black artists was radically ambitious, particularly considering the woeful underrepresentation and seeming disinterest in art by people of color in mainstream institutions like The Museum of Modern Art, The Metropolitan Museum, and the Whitney Museum of American Art. Although race has been central to the narrative and conflicts of the United States, the Studio Museum was born in a particularly hectic social and cultural moment in the nation’s history, with the year marked by such pivotal events as the assassinations of the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. (followed by deadly riots in cities like Baltimore and Washington D.C.) and Senator Robert F. Kennedy, the passing of the Civil Rights Act, and the election of President Richard Nixon. The late 1960s to early 1970s was also a period of significant social revolutions, with Black Power and anti-war activists gaining influence alongside early indications of Second Wave Feminist and Gay Liberation movements. During this turbulent historical moment, the newly initiated Studio Museum operated as a response to the historical and popular erasure of the Black experience, proving itself a true nexus for Black art and thought through its exhibitions, leadership, and integration in the Harlem community. Indeed, it became a space for artists of the African diaspora to visualize themselves and their communities with the kind of dignity and nuance Black Americans rarely (if ever) saw in mainstream culture. While racism and underrepresentation still plague the African American community, meaningful progress has certainly been achieved through increased social, political, and economic mobility since the late 1960s. Still, particularly in the wake of concerns over police brutality, the rise of emboldened action within white supremacist groups, and a federal government entrenched in racist and xenophobic policy and rhetoric, as well as the influence of the Black Lives Matter movement, the Studio Museum must use its expansion initiative to regain the audacity with which it was founded and respond to the boiling racial tensions of the contemporary national climate. As the museum closes for renovations in 2018, with a planned reopening in 2021, it has the opportunity to essentially rebirth itself after a period of what is perhaps one of the most turbulent and controversial racial moments of the last two decades. This is not to imply that the Studio Museum should be a reactive space, but rather that in order to meet its potential as a nexus, as well as reach a point in which race is not an essentialist determination of identity, it needs to respond to historical and contemporary racisms. In order to increase the impact of its exhibitions and programming, the Studio Museum also needs to address more comprehensively the ways in which bodies from the whole diaspora are affected by policy and culture, and not just African Americans in U.S. urban spaces. In this vein, the Studio Museum’s mission to be an international nexus must be the driving force of its vision for the future; it cannot simply be a space for exhibiting works by African American artists about African Americans, but must adopt a more overt political operation through fearless and persistent interrogations of the intersections between history, current events, and prophecies of tomorrow as they concern the interests of Black Americans. By critically reexamining the aesthetics of the white cube gallery model, and adopting a more assertive and visually direct curatorial vision, the Studio Museum—both as a physical structure and symbol—will better reflect its necessary goal of being a space for convergence. In order to assert its politics and evoke clarity of mission, the museum needs to evaluate the subtle and overt codes its gallery spaces communicate and inspire. The idea of converging histories and identities is explored in the Studio Museum’s exhibition Fictions, which utilizes works by nineteen emerging artists to interrogate issues concerning the construction of memory and identity as they relate to the Black experience. The artists included in Fictions represent a balanced diversity of gender, sexuality, regional background, and skin color (a diversity the museum must continue throughout each of its future exhibitions), and work with a wide variety of mediums and subject matter. Genevieve Gaignard’s installation (Figure 1) metaphorically encapsulates the kind of convergence that the Studio Museum should be concerned with in its expansion plans, and presents an accessible yet complex narrative of belonging, femininity, and violence. Occupying the central space of the primary gallery that houses Fictions, Gaignard’s installation is a site where questions of race, gentility, domesticity, and colorism combine. Adopting the visual aesthetics of a traditional middle class living space, the work asks the viewer to look closer at the bodies and motifs that pepper the environments often taken for granted. Seemingly innocuous ceramic figurines of Black women in nineteenth century ball gowns dance around the space—one tucked behind the glass panel of the grandfather clock gazes at the severed head of a White girl, while another constructs an escape rope from the birdcage that encloses her. The two figurines, bookended on each side of the space, dialogue with one another and express ideas of agency, as well as highlight the ways in which the Black female body has been entrapped and objectified. They also dialogue with the selfportraits of Gaignard hung from either side of the central armchair, both of which explore the artist’s own unique experiences as a light-skinned, biracial woman (much of Gaignard’s photographic work reflects on themes of racial passing, with the artist oftentimes “disguising” herself as different character tropes). “Gaignard’s [work] shows us where we’ve come from while it points us to a future in which we can be multitudes: both black and white, demure and provocative, made up or down, and all have access to the same agency.”1 Each element of the installation contextualizes and reaffirms another, with the work very clearly posing questions concerning the construction of Black femininity as well as the interactions between contemporary domestic and urban spaces. It is a multileveled yet easily readable piece, and the inclusion of an informative wall text and cell-phone accessible artist interview also stand as helpful guides. Gaignard’s installation serves as a case study for the ways in which the relationship between space and object can effectively communicate the concerns of the improved Studio Museum, and unfortunately the museum’s current design fails in this regard. As it stands, Fictions is situated in the primary ground-level gallery, as well as occupying a small portion of the basement space. This basement space (in a sequestered, cavernous room) also houses an exhibition of the museum’s historic works about the Harlem neighborhood. The uppermost floor, which overlooks the ground-level gallery, exhibits works by its annual Artists-in-Residence, usually a selection of three Black and/or Latinx artists working currently. Essentially, the museum’s floors follow a continuum of past (basement), present (ground level), and future (balcony), though the spaces feel disjointed by more than just time. By physically separating these galleries, the Studio Museum is effectively communicating ideas of isolationism and discouraging the artworks from interacting, supporting, and perhaps even challenging one another. This does not align with the Fictions exhibition, which aims to present words “creating parallel or alternative narratives that complicate fact, fiction, and memory.”2 Rather than existing in their own historical vacuum, the works on display at the Studio Museum should encourage 1 Genevieve Gaignard, In Passing,” loeildelaphotographie.com, last modified September 29, 2017, http://loeildelaphotographie.com/en/2017/09/29/article/159967236/genevieve-gaignard-inpassing 2 “Fictions,” studiomuseum.org, accessed December 1, 2017, https://www.studiomuseum.org/exhibition/fictions. divergent thinking and opposing perspectives, which could provide new and radical ways of looking at objects that may not communicate as effectively on their own. While a separation of galleries is inevitable in any museum space, exhibitions should incorporate works from a range of periods so that they have the opportunity to dialogue with others in the collection. A rejection of a historical-based curatorial vision will also allow new considerations of older artworks, as well as provide precedent for work being produced currently. The idea of transcending time and space can also be achieved through the design of the gallery walls themselves. As it stands, the Studio Museum’s wall space follows the “white cube” model, which is virtually used by all modern and contemporary art spaces that exhibit works from the past century. While the white cube aesthetic was designed as a way for artworks to stand on their own, existing beyond their historical and cultural moment, it communicates (despite attempts of neutrality), codes about the gallery and museum space, which then extend onto the works themselves. Art critic Simon Sheikh, in summarizing Brian O’Doherty’s seminal 1976 essay, “Inside the White Cube,” writes, The gallery space is not a neutral container, but a historical construct. Furthermore, it is an aesthetic object in and of itself…Indeed, the white cube not only conditions, but also overpowers the artworks themselves in its shift from placing content within a context to making the context itself the content.3 Following this idea, the Studio Museum as an institution becomes the primary communicator of ideas, rather than allowing the artworks on display to express their own concepts. Also, if the Studio Museum is to Simon Sheikh, “Positively White Cube Revisited,” last modified February 2009. http://www.eflux.com/journal/03/68545/positively-white-cube-revisited/. 3 work towards a trans-historical narrative, the white cube model would simply be antithetical to this mission. Instead of adopting the gallery aesthetics espoused by the kinds of museums the Studio’s birth was predicated on, it should instead borrow from the very exterior design of its new construction (Figure 2). Designed to be representative of Harlem’s iconic stoops, architect David Adjaye says of the new museum, “Above all, we have sought to create spaces that celebrate the rich heritage of the institution, its relationship with artists, and its role as a pillar of Harlem’s cultural life.”4 Although this is reflected (albeit in a rather abstract way) on the façade of the new design, it is not transferred into the museum’s interior galleries, as shown in Figure 3. Rather, they are sterile, white, and predictable. If the Studio Museum is truly interested in separating itself from the conventions of the mainstream, it cannot rely on the white cube. Instead, the incorporation of red brick or brownstone into the museum’s interior spaces could help facilitate dialogues between artworks from different historical moments, as well as situate the museum in its uniquely vibrant and culturally-significant community. In the fall of 2018, the Studio Museum in Harlem will close its doors to begin its much-anticipated rebuilding process. Set to reopen in the year 2021, the Studio Museum will still continue to share works from its collection in exhibition spaces across New York and the rest of the nation, but during this nearly three year hiatus, the Studio Museum as an institution and nexus for the display of African diaspora art will be virtually non-existent. While a years-long closing has proved troublesome for some of the most financially-secure and mainstream art museums, the Studio Museum in particular (as a smaller museum in both size and endowment) will risk not only financial problems, but more importantly it will miss the Sarah Cascone, “Thelma Golden Reveals Renderings of the Studio Museum in Harlem’s $175 Million Future Home” last modified September 27, 2017. https://news.artnet.com/artworld/studio-museum-harlem-new-david-adjaye-building-1096598 4 opportunity to respond directly and in real time to the kinds of white supremacist and racist ideologies of the Donald Trump Administration. As the Studio Museum’s reopening is scheduled for a year after the next presidential election (and likely soon after either a new presidential candidate is elected, or a reelection occurs), it will begin the new phase of its legacy in a nation that will look and feel very different from the one it closed its doors to. Indeed, the present political moment in the United States, with its overabundance of source material concerning the racist rhetoric and white supremacist support and apologist treatment at the highest levels of government, provides artists of color from across the spectrum the opportunity to critique deep-rooted issues at the heart of American racial and cultural conflicts, as well as provide a unique chance to imagine how these conflicts can be addressed and solved in the future. Since the Studio Museum was founded in response to the erasure, exclusion, and misinterpretation of African American artists in whiteowned and operated art and educational spaces, and because the current historical moment is perhaps the most turbulent in terms of race and class tension in the nascent twenty-first century, it is imperative that when the Studio Museum reopens its doors, its first exhibition must directly interrogate the events of the last four years, especially as they pivot from or highlight the “post-race” notions and problems of the Barack Obama presidency. Indeed, these works should not reflect a “post-black” narrative, as described by Director of the Studio Museum Thelma Golden. In the exhibition catalogue for the groundbreaking 2001 Freestyle show, Golden defines this concept as describing artists “adamant about not being labeled as black artists,” but rather “redefining complex notions of blackness.”5 While it is important that artists of color should be able to create art objects that do not rely on personal racial identity, the contemporary cultural 5 Thelma Golden, Freestyle (New York: The Studio Museum in Harlem, 2001), 14. obsession with identity politics on both sides of the political spectrum demands direct confrontation with this issue. In this current political moment, individuals from each racial background must vigorously engage in a personal self-assessment about history, privilege, and reparation, and make active strides towards self-education and collaboration across racial, gender, and class lines. The Studio Museum can help facilitate this through open discussion and exposure in its exhibitions and programming. Current heated debates concerning the treatment and display of Confederate monuments should provide the foundational theoretical framework of the first gallery space museumgoers enter into, which will set the scene for contemporary topical issues by looking at African American history and memory. Since the inclusion of accurate and honest Black history is lacking from many educational curriculums, and in anticipation of the potential shifts in educational standards during current reordering of the Department of Education, the Studio Museum can use artwork and interpretative texts to openly discuss the experiences of Black people throughout United States history. This room does not need to portray images of brutality per se (and this should be decided with careful consideration), but it is important to set the roots of the cruelty faced by Black bodies before and after emancipation in order to understand how slavery and historical racist practices are manifested in the contemporary moment. The artworks and documents that comprise this space should include both historical and contemporary pieces, and should be figurative and readable, as its primary function is education and foundation-setting. Current Artist-in-Residence Julia Phillips’ oeuvre could provide ideas for the kinds of politically-motivated works that could fill this room. Sculptures like Operator (with Blinder, Muter, Penetrator, Aborter) (2017) (Figure 4) signify violence without fetishizing black bodies in agony, communicating connections between history and the present, and charged with impact without triggering an overwhelming response. In order to understand how to move forward, we must have open dialogues about where we have been as a nation. After laying the groundwork of Black history and memory, the next gallery space should directly confront topical issues concerning Black Americans, particularly responding to the ways in which the federal government under President Trump is actively working to perpetuate and reinforce racist ideology and systems. This space, which will explore issues of mass incarceration, poverty, the War on Drugs, unsafe living conditions, etc., and which will be in the same vein as the kinds of socially-conscious works currently on display in Fictions, must also pay special attention to the ways in which Alt-Right rhetoric concerning Muslims and other immigrants of color are rooted in traditional anti-black initiatives. Likewise, the accusatory and infantilizing (delayed) response to Puerto Ricans following the destruction of Hurricane Maria in 2017 also has at its core the same kind of racist beliefs at the heart of policies and agendas by Trump, his supporters, and Cabinet appointees. As race issues have reached a boiling point in the United States, and as a result of the influence of Black Lives Matter, the artworks in this space should be overtly political and activist in nature. They should be confrontational, bold, and clear in their message and content. They should also include contemporary works only, and address specific issues rather than abstract concepts. The opportunity to confront the conditions that led to the election of President Trump is a rich occasion for the Studio Museum to expand its collection and exhibition of digital and new media art, as well. Since many have attributed the results of the 2016 presidential election to the proliferation of “fake news” and the influence of social media, digital and Internet artists in particular can explore these topics while also introducing an underrepresented medium in the museum space. Continuing with the passing of time, the final gallery space should imagine what the future of Black Americans will look like, and I propose that these works should be more aspirational and forward-thinking than the rest of the exhibition. All too often, Black artists, for a slew of reasons, are valued primarily for their ability to present images of brutality enacted on Black bodies, or “protest” works with clear political intentions. This space in which a future is imagined can present works by Black artists that picture Black excellence, success, and collaboration. In other words, the pieces in this space provide a framework through which museumgoers can see where the nation should be going, and how the intentions of social rights activists are grounded in equality for all bodies. Although the closing of the Studio Museum comes at such a volatile and inopportune moment in modern U.S. history, the museum should see this period as the opportunity to radically refocus its place in the international art world. While the physical expanding of the museum’s galleries will certainly bring more money and visitors, creating a space where activism and art combine will, more importantly, situate the Studio Museum as a major player in the international art world, as well as an influential voice in American political conversation. 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