"You can do a museum of teddy bears and, within that context, people will consider teddy bears art."

The title of this entry is a quote from a video that will be part of a later entry. Most likely the next one in fact. But this particular quotation got me thinking about the environment that art lives in. Depending on its location in a museum, a gallery, or on a particular wall, meaning is imposed on an object by where it has been placed. Something you can touch is probably less important than something behind a velvet rope. At least that's the message I get. Forget velvet ropes, some pieces even get bulletproof glass. (Did you know the Mona Lisa has had a ceramic cup thrown at her in 2009, and someone tried to spray paint her in 1974?) To view art critically, try to recognize what emotions or assumptions are being imposed on you. Usually, it is not even from the artist--if it is, then the viewer must consider intended messages. Many museums displays, however, have no input from artists. Be aware that others may be forming your opinions before you even get a chance.

A display of photographs at the Tate Modern in London seems to make it clear which photograph takes precedence on this wall. Because of the arrangement, a viewer will probably stop longest at the one in the middle. It is by itself. It's at eye level. It allows for multiple people to look at it at once. It stands out from the other 10 on display. This particular photograph announces its supremacy from those around it because of how it has been arranged.

What about these works of art?

These works are in storage and may never be shown to the public. Does that mean they are less worthy of our viewing time? Because they are in storage, the harsh reality is that have been deemed less important than those on display. Maybe they are, in fact, of lesser quality. But maybe they simply did not fit the color, size, or subject matter of the room they could have gone into.

Within the last decade many museums have begun to experiment with visible storage to allow access to things that are not displayed in galleries. Letting the visitor behind the scenes can help demystify the whole idea of a museum. It gives access not only to more stuff, but also to more thought. What if the best thing you saw was in storage? At the very least that means that you saw something memorable. It also means you would have missed it otherwise, and are still missing the experience of things that are behind locked doors at most museums. Visible storage and other Alternative Museum Spaces can help rethink the museum environment.

This is a great opportunity to connect to another form of art--music. Below is one of the best examples of art removed from its' environment I have ever encountered. 

The premise is this:

"A performance was arranged by the Washington Post as an experiment in context, perception and priorities--as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste: In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?"

And so, one of the world's most famous and gifted violinists played in the Washington D.C. subway system for 45 minutes in 2007, on a $3.5 million Stradivarius violin. He played 6 songs, the first of which was Bach's Chaconne, considered one of the most difficult violin pieces to master. It is 14 minutes long, written in 1720, and said to be "a celebration of the breadth of human possibility." The point was to see if people would stop and hear the music. Here is the Washington Post article.

Here is what happened:

The results:

"In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and to take in the performance, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run--for a total of $32 and change. That leaves the 1,070 people who hurried by, oblivious, many only three feet away, few even turning to look. There was never a crowd, not even for a second."

So what does this mean? Is it context only that that dictates beauty to us? Can modern generations not even recognize genius? Do we let others tell us what to think? About art? About everything?

Mark Leithhauser, a senior curator at the National Gallery, explains what happened in the D.C. Metro in terms of context:

"Let's say I took one of out more abstract masterpieces, say an Ellsworth Kelly, and removed it from its frame, marched in down the 52 steps that people walk up to get to the National Gallery, pass the giant columns, and brought it into a restaurant. It's a $5 million dollar painting. And it's one of those restaurants where there are pieces of original art for sale, by some industrious kids from the Corcoran School, and I hang that Kelly on the wall with a price tag of $150. No one is going to notice it. An art curator might look up and say: 'Hey, that looks a little like an Ellsworth Kelly. Please pass the salt.'"

This really doesn't sit well with me. But here and here is more of Joshua Bell. If this is happening the next time you are in the subway, I recommend listening.

Thoughts?