Inside and Outside: Marketing and the Martín
Ramírez Exhibition at the Milwaukee Art Museum
By Debra Brehmer
I’m starting to feel sorry for the Milwaukee Art Museum. Under
the relatively brief, five-year tenure of Director David Gordon, it
has endured a number of unfortunate mishaps that have made
national news and undoubtedly continue to chip away at the
institution’s reputation.
First there was Martini Fest of 2006, a bad decision by the
museum to rent the facility for an all you can drink vodka party.
Drunken patrons scaled the Gaston Lachaise sculpture,
Standing Woman, and threw up on the Calatrava’s white marble
floors. Then there was the “kicker” incident, where a mentally
imbalanced man attacked a Baroque painting and kicked a hole
in it. Again, the museum was taken to task for cutting back on
the staffing of guards, which may have resulted in this incident.
And now, the international outsider/folk art world is in a fury
about the marketing program that accompanies the Martín
Ramírez exhibition. This poor decision made by MAM’s
administration will undoubtedly become another lingering
embarrassment for both the museum and Milwaukee.
When the museum staged the impressive Francis Bacon
exhibition (last year), the marketing campaign asked viewers to
“STARE into the haunting visions of a master painter.” The
museum was draped with a banner that showed Bacon’s eyes
and in huge letters, the word “STARE.” Even this seemed like a
dubious approach. Did the museum really have to “sell” Bacon’
s personal intensity and emphasize the tormented genius myth
of art making to get people in the doors? Couldn’t they have
instead underscored his brilliance as a painter and let the story
unravel through the works? It maligned Bacon and probably
sent the message to the broad public, that yup, artists sure are
crazy. Come see the freak show.
With Ramírez, who, like Bacon, is dead and cannot control the
‘spin’ put on his work, there were sensitive issues already at
play in the presentation of his oeuvre. Martín Ramírez is a
Mexican immigrant who traveled to California in the mid 1920s
to find work so he could support his family and farm in Jalisco.
For five years, he did find enough employment to send money
back to Mexico. But by the 1930s with the economy rocked by
the Depression and his lack of English Ramírez was out of
work. He was eventually committed to a mental institution
(January 1931) and diagnosed, perhaps inaccurately, as
catatonic schizophrenic. In his subsequent 30 years of
institutional life until his death in 1963, he created at least 300
incredibly beautiful drawings and has since become recognized
as a “modern master.” As Roberta Smith said in the New York
Times, “He belongs to the group of accessible, irresistible
genius draftsmen that includes Paul Klee, Saul Steinberg and
Charles Schulz.” It has only been in recent years that
additional scholarship has provided insightful facts that lend
more understanding of his life. This exhibition, which originated
at the American Folk Art Museum in New York City, was a
vehicle to look at Ramírez’s body of work while considering the
new scholarship which gives him back a sense of his humanity,
heritage and dignity as an artist.
The problem with all exhibitions of “outsider” or “vernacular” art,
which is art made by individuals who have no formal training
and live and work outside of a professional art environment, is
that often the eccentricities of the artists’ life stories take on
more weight than the work itself. The “stories” are used to sell
the work more than to support an understanding of the work.
Scholars in this field are very careful in how they use
biographical information in context with the art work.
Most solo exhibitions of outsider art do not take place at
mainstream museums. Museums have long been confused
about how to incorporate this type of work into the broader tale
of Modernism. The Milwaukee Art Museum, however, has an
outstanding collection of self-taught art in its upper level and in
Sheboygan, Wisconsin, the John Michael Kohler Art Center has
long championed, studied, archived and supported this type of
work along with the preservation emphasis of the Kohler
Foundation. Essentially, this carefully conceived and well-
researched exhibition is important because self-taught artists
are rarely given solo exhibitions in fine art museums.
Bringing the Ramírez exhibition to Milwaukee was a coup for the
museum. It is one of only three venues in the country and the
exhibition was a huge success in New York. Because of its
limited venues, this exhibition will draw large audiences from
outside of the region. Several weeks ago, the John Michael
Kohler Art Center hosted a three-day international conference
on vernacular art environments, in conjunction with their current
exhibition. Scholars from the self-taught field arrived in
Wisconsin from all over the country. Many of them were given
a special preview of the Ramírez show, hosted by Brooke Davis
Anderson, who organized the exhibition for the American Folk
Art Museum. And this is when the trouble began.
This particular group of people consists of dealers and
academics who have spent their entire careers overcoming
stereotypes and obstacles that impede both the professional
and public understanding of self-taught art. Most of them had
seen the show previously in New York. In Milwaukee, they were
unexpectedly confronted by the local venues’ ham-fisted
approach to marketing the exhibition: The first problem was the
banner advertising campaign that asks, “Martín Ramírez: Victim
or Hero? You Decide.” Also, in a series of related
advertisements, the catch-line was expanded to ask “Tragedy
or Triumph?” Their second objection was the art museum’s
website which opens with an animated version of Ramírez’
works whereby his horse and rider gallop across a stage,
followed by an assortment of his animal drawings.
The problem with the banner was that it focused on Ramírez’
mythology and ‘story’ instead of the incredible accomplishment
of his work. It reduced the issues to a one dimensional, soap-
opera styled teaser. It’s hard to imagine anyone entering this
exhibition and actually having this thought: “Hero or victim?”
When one enters the show, instead, he or she is struck by the
undeniable power of the images. They are pure and simply
great works of art. Whether Ramírez was a “hero or victim” has
nothing to do with the reasons his work is installed in an art
museum. Ramírez was neither a victim nor hero; he was a
person subject to a fate he was not entirely in control of and
who developed his artistry regardless of these conditions,
perhaps as a means to survive in an institution. Does that
make him a hero? Well, maybe. He did create a magnificent
body of work in his last 15 years at DeWitt Institution in
California. But that’s not what is of primary importance here.
Ramírez’ drawings lets us think about issues of art making as a
language, as a shared means of experiencing and translating
one’s life and reality. Whether sane or insane, trained or self-
taught, art functions as a language of interpretation. It is our
greatest means as human beings to attempt to translate
feelings, perceptions and ideas through an endlessly inventive
process that speaks more broadly to our souls than any other
mode of connection or communication. Ramírez’ work is
poignantly effective in the freshness he brings to this task as
his remarkable stylistic innovations weave a sense of memory,
movement, process and rhythm into his compositions.
The second objectionable factor of the MAM’s website
animation speaks of a peculiar sense of entitlement by an
institution who should know better. One has to ask, would the
museum take the same liberties with the work of Picasso,
Kandinsky or Sol LeWitt? Picture for a moment clicking onto
the MAM web site and seeing a promotional video for a Sol
LeWitt retrospective that has one of his cubes unfold into a
human, dancing figure. That would seem like a rather
outrageous violation of the “seriousness” of LeWitt’s ambition.
But a socially marginal Mexican immigrant seems to carry less
cache. To snip apart his compositions and make them clippity
clop across a screen must have seemed an entirely harmless
and playful means of enticing viewers.
“Would we do this with Van Gogh’s work?,” asked the prominent
New York Gallery dealer Phyllis Kind. “The phenomenon of
caricaturing three images . . . shows no respect and even
less understanding. Pity them. More shocking than that is this
headline “tragedy or triumph” (which ran in print ads). Would
we be confronted by a similar question in regards to Van
Gogh? Of course not. We all know the tragic aspect of his life,
and in particular its ending, but we certainly do not question the
triumph of his art. I’m assuming that in the case of Van Gogh
we believe that the art itself has great intrinsic value. To
animate his work for a kindergartner, let’s say, would not even
get our attention. That a museum could stoop this low only
dramatizes the potential fallout when museums dramatize or
socialize or contextualize assorted circumstantial evidence, or
geography.”
Lisa Stone, Director of the Roger Brown Study Center in
Chicago, commented that, “Bottom line: the animation trivializes
the work, not only insulting the artist and missing the
fundamental strength of the work--which moves and breathes
with exceptional dimensionality on its own--but assumes an
audience that wants to be entertained on a superficial level,
which, it turns out, is definitely not the case in Milwaukee.”
Another individual on this particular list-serve which unites self-
taught scholars, wrote: “. . . today I am thinking that it's the
legacy of Dubuffet's category of art brut, with its celebrated
characteristics of isolation and eccentricity, that we see
galloping across the screen. I don't know if that rider will ever
escape. So ironic to see such an insulting promotional spin for
a show that presents this artist's work with such dignity.”
Many participants in the self-taught art world wrote letters to
museum director David Gordon. In response, Chief Curator
Joseph Ketner informed the group in an e-mail that the museum
was taking down the banners and removing the animation from
the website, which it did on Wednesday, October 17.
Ketner wrote: “While our intention was to attract a broader
audience who is not familiar with the work of Martín Ramírez, we
do regret offending our colleagues. In deference to members
of the community involved in outsider and folk art, we are
removing the offensive slogans while retaining the ones that
advertise the Ramírez exhibition as “one of the best shows of
the season.” Ketner also mentions in the correspondence that
“The Museum retained the services of a Hispanic marketing
team to assist us in attracting a broader and diverse community
to see the show. After much deliberation it was believed that
this series of ads would serve this goal.”
Although the museum must be commended for reacting quickly
to this onslaught of concern, there is a troubling and curious
tone in Ketner’s reply. He states that the museum regrets
“offending our colleagues,” and “in deference to members of
the community involved in outsider and folk art...” Oddly,
Ketner places a firm boundary here between insiders (“our
colleagues”) and outsiders (the public). It seems that one
underlying point of the Ramírez show was to break down just
such boundaries and for once, let the outsider, i.e. the poor,
itinerant, possibly insane Mexican immigrant, into the “inside,”
because his work is every bit as good as an academic artist’s.
This exhibition has the potential to broaden the conditions of
inside and outside and to pry open the academy to race,
difference, plurality, and profession. Diversifying the tightly
controlled conditions of art making and the marketplace that
has long and overwhelmingly favored white males is an
important task indeed, even today.
For Ketner to even inadvertently speak from behind the line of
insiderness indicates a platform of superiority and privilege
that is in direct contrast to the importance of this exhibition.
Another problem with his response is that he subtly blames a
“Hispanic marketing team” for the animation of Ramírez’
paintings. This again sets up a condition of “otherness,” by
underscoring the fact that the MAM sought Hispanic input and
that perhaps their particular “outsiderness” was responsible for
this error in judgment.
Natanya Blanck, who teaches Latin American art history at the
Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, commented, “I find it
puzzling that he (Ketner) chose to affirm that the marketing
team responsible for the campaign was Hispanic. Why did they
assemble an Hispanic team in the first place? Was it because,
since Ramírez was Mexican, they were trying to attract a more
diverse (meaning Hispanic) public to the show? So, does this
mean that the silly and disrespectful campaign implies that the
Hispanic public is stupid? Would he had disclosed that they
retained the services of an African-American marketing team
for assistance with the, let's say, Gees Bend campaign
(especially if the campaign had resulted in a similar
controversy)?”
Some people might think that the individuals who responded
critically to the MAM’s campaign were overreacting to what was,
after all, just an advertising campaign. Can and should the
Milwaukee Art Museum be blamed for what might be construed
as an innocent mistake?
Perhaps it comes down to this: silly advertising campaigns,
such as the one that accompanied the Francis Bacon exhibition
as well as the Ramírez show, do nothing to enhance the MAM’s
reputation. Although all art museums are now in the business
of salesmanship as well as scholarship and most seem
desperate to reach broader and broader audiences, a museum’
s job is to heighten the level of cultural experience for the
masses, not to stoop to the level of the mass media.
Maybe the next banner should read: “The Milwaukee Art
Museum: Thoughtless or Naïve? You decide.”
Ramírez Exhibition at the Milwaukee Art Museum
By Debra Brehmer
I’m starting to feel sorry for the Milwaukee Art Museum. Under
the relatively brief, five-year tenure of Director David Gordon, it
has endured a number of unfortunate mishaps that have made
national news and undoubtedly continue to chip away at the
institution’s reputation.
First there was Martini Fest of 2006, a bad decision by the
museum to rent the facility for an all you can drink vodka party.
Drunken patrons scaled the Gaston Lachaise sculpture,
Standing Woman, and threw up on the Calatrava’s white marble
floors. Then there was the “kicker” incident, where a mentally
imbalanced man attacked a Baroque painting and kicked a hole
in it. Again, the museum was taken to task for cutting back on
the staffing of guards, which may have resulted in this incident.
And now, the international outsider/folk art world is in a fury
about the marketing program that accompanies the Martín
Ramírez exhibition. This poor decision made by MAM’s
administration will undoubtedly become another lingering
embarrassment for both the museum and Milwaukee.
When the museum staged the impressive Francis Bacon
exhibition (last year), the marketing campaign asked viewers to
“STARE into the haunting visions of a master painter.” The
museum was draped with a banner that showed Bacon’s eyes
and in huge letters, the word “STARE.” Even this seemed like a
dubious approach. Did the museum really have to “sell” Bacon’
s personal intensity and emphasize the tormented genius myth
of art making to get people in the doors? Couldn’t they have
instead underscored his brilliance as a painter and let the story
unravel through the works? It maligned Bacon and probably
sent the message to the broad public, that yup, artists sure are
crazy. Come see the freak show.
With Ramírez, who, like Bacon, is dead and cannot control the
‘spin’ put on his work, there were sensitive issues already at
play in the presentation of his oeuvre. Martín Ramírez is a
Mexican immigrant who traveled to California in the mid 1920s
to find work so he could support his family and farm in Jalisco.
For five years, he did find enough employment to send money
back to Mexico. But by the 1930s with the economy rocked by
the Depression and his lack of English Ramírez was out of
work. He was eventually committed to a mental institution
(January 1931) and diagnosed, perhaps inaccurately, as
catatonic schizophrenic. In his subsequent 30 years of
institutional life until his death in 1963, he created at least 300
incredibly beautiful drawings and has since become recognized
as a “modern master.” As Roberta Smith said in the New York
Times, “He belongs to the group of accessible, irresistible
genius draftsmen that includes Paul Klee, Saul Steinberg and
Charles Schulz.” It has only been in recent years that
additional scholarship has provided insightful facts that lend
more understanding of his life. This exhibition, which originated
at the American Folk Art Museum in New York City, was a
vehicle to look at Ramírez’s body of work while considering the
new scholarship which gives him back a sense of his humanity,
heritage and dignity as an artist.
The problem with all exhibitions of “outsider” or “vernacular” art,
which is art made by individuals who have no formal training
and live and work outside of a professional art environment, is
that often the eccentricities of the artists’ life stories take on
more weight than the work itself. The “stories” are used to sell
the work more than to support an understanding of the work.
Scholars in this field are very careful in how they use
biographical information in context with the art work.
Most solo exhibitions of outsider art do not take place at
mainstream museums. Museums have long been confused
about how to incorporate this type of work into the broader tale
of Modernism. The Milwaukee Art Museum, however, has an
outstanding collection of self-taught art in its upper level and in
Sheboygan, Wisconsin, the John Michael Kohler Art Center has
long championed, studied, archived and supported this type of
work along with the preservation emphasis of the Kohler
Foundation. Essentially, this carefully conceived and well-
researched exhibition is important because self-taught artists
are rarely given solo exhibitions in fine art museums.
Bringing the Ramírez exhibition to Milwaukee was a coup for the
museum. It is one of only three venues in the country and the
exhibition was a huge success in New York. Because of its
limited venues, this exhibition will draw large audiences from
outside of the region. Several weeks ago, the John Michael
Kohler Art Center hosted a three-day international conference
on vernacular art environments, in conjunction with their current
exhibition. Scholars from the self-taught field arrived in
Wisconsin from all over the country. Many of them were given
a special preview of the Ramírez show, hosted by Brooke Davis
Anderson, who organized the exhibition for the American Folk
Art Museum. And this is when the trouble began.
This particular group of people consists of dealers and
academics who have spent their entire careers overcoming
stereotypes and obstacles that impede both the professional
and public understanding of self-taught art. Most of them had
seen the show previously in New York. In Milwaukee, they were
unexpectedly confronted by the local venues’ ham-fisted
approach to marketing the exhibition: The first problem was the
banner advertising campaign that asks, “Martín Ramírez: Victim
or Hero? You Decide.” Also, in a series of related
advertisements, the catch-line was expanded to ask “Tragedy
or Triumph?” Their second objection was the art museum’s
website which opens with an animated version of Ramírez’
works whereby his horse and rider gallop across a stage,
followed by an assortment of his animal drawings.
The problem with the banner was that it focused on Ramírez’
mythology and ‘story’ instead of the incredible accomplishment
of his work. It reduced the issues to a one dimensional, soap-
opera styled teaser. It’s hard to imagine anyone entering this
exhibition and actually having this thought: “Hero or victim?”
When one enters the show, instead, he or she is struck by the
undeniable power of the images. They are pure and simply
great works of art. Whether Ramírez was a “hero or victim” has
nothing to do with the reasons his work is installed in an art
museum. Ramírez was neither a victim nor hero; he was a
person subject to a fate he was not entirely in control of and
who developed his artistry regardless of these conditions,
perhaps as a means to survive in an institution. Does that
make him a hero? Well, maybe. He did create a magnificent
body of work in his last 15 years at DeWitt Institution in
California. But that’s not what is of primary importance here.
Ramírez’ drawings lets us think about issues of art making as a
language, as a shared means of experiencing and translating
one’s life and reality. Whether sane or insane, trained or self-
taught, art functions as a language of interpretation. It is our
greatest means as human beings to attempt to translate
feelings, perceptions and ideas through an endlessly inventive
process that speaks more broadly to our souls than any other
mode of connection or communication. Ramírez’ work is
poignantly effective in the freshness he brings to this task as
his remarkable stylistic innovations weave a sense of memory,
movement, process and rhythm into his compositions.
The second objectionable factor of the MAM’s website
animation speaks of a peculiar sense of entitlement by an
institution who should know better. One has to ask, would the
museum take the same liberties with the work of Picasso,
Kandinsky or Sol LeWitt? Picture for a moment clicking onto
the MAM web site and seeing a promotional video for a Sol
LeWitt retrospective that has one of his cubes unfold into a
human, dancing figure. That would seem like a rather
outrageous violation of the “seriousness” of LeWitt’s ambition.
But a socially marginal Mexican immigrant seems to carry less
cache. To snip apart his compositions and make them clippity
clop across a screen must have seemed an entirely harmless
and playful means of enticing viewers.
“Would we do this with Van Gogh’s work?,” asked the prominent
New York Gallery dealer Phyllis Kind. “The phenomenon of
caricaturing three images . . . shows no respect and even
less understanding. Pity them. More shocking than that is this
headline “tragedy or triumph” (which ran in print ads). Would
we be confronted by a similar question in regards to Van
Gogh? Of course not. We all know the tragic aspect of his life,
and in particular its ending, but we certainly do not question the
triumph of his art. I’m assuming that in the case of Van Gogh
we believe that the art itself has great intrinsic value. To
animate his work for a kindergartner, let’s say, would not even
get our attention. That a museum could stoop this low only
dramatizes the potential fallout when museums dramatize or
socialize or contextualize assorted circumstantial evidence, or
geography.”
Lisa Stone, Director of the Roger Brown Study Center in
Chicago, commented that, “Bottom line: the animation trivializes
the work, not only insulting the artist and missing the
fundamental strength of the work--which moves and breathes
with exceptional dimensionality on its own--but assumes an
audience that wants to be entertained on a superficial level,
which, it turns out, is definitely not the case in Milwaukee.”
Another individual on this particular list-serve which unites self-
taught scholars, wrote: “. . . today I am thinking that it's the
legacy of Dubuffet's category of art brut, with its celebrated
characteristics of isolation and eccentricity, that we see
galloping across the screen. I don't know if that rider will ever
escape. So ironic to see such an insulting promotional spin for
a show that presents this artist's work with such dignity.”
Many participants in the self-taught art world wrote letters to
museum director David Gordon. In response, Chief Curator
Joseph Ketner informed the group in an e-mail that the museum
was taking down the banners and removing the animation from
the website, which it did on Wednesday, October 17.
Ketner wrote: “While our intention was to attract a broader
audience who is not familiar with the work of Martín Ramírez, we
do regret offending our colleagues. In deference to members
of the community involved in outsider and folk art, we are
removing the offensive slogans while retaining the ones that
advertise the Ramírez exhibition as “one of the best shows of
the season.” Ketner also mentions in the correspondence that
“The Museum retained the services of a Hispanic marketing
team to assist us in attracting a broader and diverse community
to see the show. After much deliberation it was believed that
this series of ads would serve this goal.”
Although the museum must be commended for reacting quickly
to this onslaught of concern, there is a troubling and curious
tone in Ketner’s reply. He states that the museum regrets
“offending our colleagues,” and “in deference to members of
the community involved in outsider and folk art...” Oddly,
Ketner places a firm boundary here between insiders (“our
colleagues”) and outsiders (the public). It seems that one
underlying point of the Ramírez show was to break down just
such boundaries and for once, let the outsider, i.e. the poor,
itinerant, possibly insane Mexican immigrant, into the “inside,”
because his work is every bit as good as an academic artist’s.
This exhibition has the potential to broaden the conditions of
inside and outside and to pry open the academy to race,
difference, plurality, and profession. Diversifying the tightly
controlled conditions of art making and the marketplace that
has long and overwhelmingly favored white males is an
important task indeed, even today.
For Ketner to even inadvertently speak from behind the line of
insiderness indicates a platform of superiority and privilege
that is in direct contrast to the importance of this exhibition.
Another problem with his response is that he subtly blames a
“Hispanic marketing team” for the animation of Ramírez’
paintings. This again sets up a condition of “otherness,” by
underscoring the fact that the MAM sought Hispanic input and
that perhaps their particular “outsiderness” was responsible for
this error in judgment.
Natanya Blanck, who teaches Latin American art history at the
Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, commented, “I find it
puzzling that he (Ketner) chose to affirm that the marketing
team responsible for the campaign was Hispanic. Why did they
assemble an Hispanic team in the first place? Was it because,
since Ramírez was Mexican, they were trying to attract a more
diverse (meaning Hispanic) public to the show? So, does this
mean that the silly and disrespectful campaign implies that the
Hispanic public is stupid? Would he had disclosed that they
retained the services of an African-American marketing team
for assistance with the, let's say, Gees Bend campaign
(especially if the campaign had resulted in a similar
controversy)?”
Some people might think that the individuals who responded
critically to the MAM’s campaign were overreacting to what was,
after all, just an advertising campaign. Can and should the
Milwaukee Art Museum be blamed for what might be construed
as an innocent mistake?
Perhaps it comes down to this: silly advertising campaigns,
such as the one that accompanied the Francis Bacon exhibition
as well as the Ramírez show, do nothing to enhance the MAM’s
reputation. Although all art museums are now in the business
of salesmanship as well as scholarship and most seem
desperate to reach broader and broader audiences, a museum’
s job is to heighten the level of cultural experience for the
masses, not to stoop to the level of the mass media.
Maybe the next banner should read: “The Milwaukee Art
Museum: Thoughtless or Naïve? You decide.”
Full Moon Edition No. 1 10.26.07
| Copyright 2007 Art History Chicks LLC |
| Martín Ramírez, Untitled (Madonna), ca. 1948-63. Crayon and pencil on pieced paper. 79 x 41 in. Collection of Ann and James Harithas. Photo: Phyllis Kind Gallery. |
| SEARCH THIS SITE |
SEARCH THIS SITE is
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to use capitalization where
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to use capitalization where
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This month in STI:
Inside and Outside:
Marketing and the
Martín Ramírez
Exhibition at the
Milwaukee Art Museum
Wifredo Lam in North
America at the
Haggerty Museum of
Art
Bronze, Fonze, and
Folly?
Jason S. Yi: Yellow
Mountain and Other
Places at Dean
Jensen Gallery
Sketches: short take
on current exhibitions;
The Nohl Fellowship
Awards
fabrics interseason,
surface: tapisserie no.
1
Cover shot
Contact us
Inside and Outside:
Marketing and the
Martín Ramírez
Exhibition at the
Milwaukee Art Museum
Wifredo Lam in North
America at the
Haggerty Museum of
Art
Bronze, Fonze, and
Folly?
Jason S. Yi: Yellow
Mountain and Other
Places at Dean
Jensen Gallery
Sketches: short take
on current exhibitions;
The Nohl Fellowship
Awards
fabrics interseason,
surface: tapisserie no.
1
Cover shot
Contact us
Sign up for email updates
(scroll page up for article)
READERS WRITE IN...
10/26/07
I, as a lender, emailed David [Gordon] commending him for
MAM's forethought in having the Ramírez show. I expressed my
dismay in the knowledge the Museum would get permanently
slammed for the tactless advertising. Too bad you can't put the
toothpaste back in the tube.
This was one of the best articles I have read on the discussion
of self-taught art. I look forward to reading more.
- George Viener
10/29/07
Ed. note: Amy Elliott, Managing Editor of Vital Source magazine
weighs in with a response this article on her blog.
Click to read her post.
10/30/07
Does Ms. Stone believe that the Henry Darger documentary
from PBS which animated his work, "trivializes the work, not
only insulting the artist and missing the fundamental strength of
the work," as well?
How can the Milwaukee Art Museum be expected to "heighten
the level of cultural experience for the masses," without getting
people into the Museum? That is the purpose of an ad
campaign pure and simple.
The campaign did raise a lot of eyes, and start a lot of
conversations, in that respect it was a success.
- Brian Pelsoh
11/22/07
Call it what you will: outsider, folk, or visionary art, Russell
Bowman's lecture at MAM, in conjunction with the Ramirez
event, went a long way toward explaining the museum's
collection. For a fuller look at what the John Michael Kohler Art
Museum has to offer, go to Vital Source online, and read "Time
Machine." Speaking of marketing, the lovely Calatrava addition
is being bastardized with cheesy banners on the interior of
Windhover Hall. Do we really need or want this junk cluttering
the architectural efforts of Mr. Calatrava?
- Judith Ann Moriarty
12/21/07
Today art museums desperately compete for attention and
dollars with a mass media/pop culture entertainment industry
dedicated to obliterating what little is left of public intelligence.
Today art museums hire more pert-time staff (administrators,
fund-raisers, promoters, etc) than full-time curators. Today art
museums privilege fashion and spectacle over research or
education. Today art museums view art as a means toward an
end rather than as an end in itself. Today art museums are in
real trouble, and this is what happens.
- Jeffrey Hayes
READERS WRITE IN...
10/26/07
I, as a lender, emailed David [Gordon] commending him for
MAM's forethought in having the Ramírez show. I expressed my
dismay in the knowledge the Museum would get permanently
slammed for the tactless advertising. Too bad you can't put the
toothpaste back in the tube.
This was one of the best articles I have read on the discussion
of self-taught art. I look forward to reading more.
- George Viener
10/29/07
Ed. note: Amy Elliott, Managing Editor of Vital Source magazine
weighs in with a response this article on her blog.
Click to read her post.
10/30/07
Does Ms. Stone believe that the Henry Darger documentary
from PBS which animated his work, "trivializes the work, not
only insulting the artist and missing the fundamental strength of
the work," as well?
How can the Milwaukee Art Museum be expected to "heighten
the level of cultural experience for the masses," without getting
people into the Museum? That is the purpose of an ad
campaign pure and simple.
The campaign did raise a lot of eyes, and start a lot of
conversations, in that respect it was a success.
- Brian Pelsoh
11/22/07
Call it what you will: outsider, folk, or visionary art, Russell
Bowman's lecture at MAM, in conjunction with the Ramirez
event, went a long way toward explaining the museum's
collection. For a fuller look at what the John Michael Kohler Art
Museum has to offer, go to Vital Source online, and read "Time
Machine." Speaking of marketing, the lovely Calatrava addition
is being bastardized with cheesy banners on the interior of
Windhover Hall. Do we really need or want this junk cluttering
the architectural efforts of Mr. Calatrava?
- Judith Ann Moriarty
12/21/07
Today art museums desperately compete for attention and
dollars with a mass media/pop culture entertainment industry
dedicated to obliterating what little is left of public intelligence.
Today art museums hire more pert-time staff (administrators,
fund-raisers, promoters, etc) than full-time curators. Today art
museums privilege fashion and spectacle over research or
education. Today art museums view art as a means toward an
end rather than as an end in itself. Today art museums are in
real trouble, and this is what happens.
- Jeffrey Hayes