Looking for heritage in all the wrong places

Foucault, human rights, and moralist ranting, all in the New York Times.

2008-12-02T13:17:00.000-08:00

Our in-class discussion about the status of cultural heritage, the preservation of cultural heritage and the role heritage plays in the scheme of human rights, is reflected in today's New York Times article on preservation and development in New York. Far too long to completely summarize, the article focuses on the conflicts in the Greenwich village part of NYC, where the Landsmarks Commission is often stuck between the turf wars of preservationists and real estate developers.

The developers claim that "Landmarking is one of the best tools that anti-development people have in this city — it’s a very long, political process", whereas preservationists insist that so little of the City has actually been landmarked that it doesn't pose any actual economic threat to the interests of the developers.

This leads into my argument about the status of heritage protection. Clearly, as we saw today in class, while there may be a tacit agreement that, in general, cultural heritage is valuable, it's exact location in the "hierarchy" of human rights (or simply rights) becomes complicated. Is it as universal as the right to live? What about the right to healthcare? How does one negotiate when one of the rights comes into conflict with another one?

The problem is that instead of actually having that discussion, the argument "well, how do we reconcile different rights" is actually often used to ignore the problem alltogether. In the case of the New York real-estate developers, the argument for economic profit is used to throw heritage completely out of the window. Instead of looking for ways to integrate the old and the new (which the Landscape Commission suggests), looking for alternative sites that do not require razing valuable buildings etc, the developers are essentially claiming that these sites prevent (economic) development and thus should be done away with. Baby and the bathwater, as they say.

Of course the economic losses compared to the heritage losses are completely marginal, of course there is more to sustainable human development than economics, and finally, of course even talking about heritage in economic terms means translating the issue into a fundamentally different conflict that, one could argue, is essentially a subversive use of power relations, in a foucaultian perspective, removing the actual issue of two parties negotiating over different interests that both relate to certain rights that the perceive themselves as having, and making it into an issue of economics, in which those with economic interests and economic power clearly have the upper hand.

I would like to say that is as unexpected as it is disappointing, but clearly, unexpected it is not. In fact, the translation of cultural heritage into economic terms is more of a rule than an exception (can you say "Christie's"?), but for a glimmer of hope there is this message from the City's deputy mayor: "We don’t think about development without thinking about preservation,” she said in an e-mail message. (She agreed to reply only to questions submitted in writing.) “During a time of unprecedented growth, preservation has always been front and center.”

Let's just hope the actions live up to the words.

The return of McHeritage

2008-11-29T16:05:00.000-08:00

Culturegrrl has been keeping everyone updated on the plans of the Italian Government to install a 'heritageczar' to preside over the vastly underfunded Italian cultural heritage. Mr. Mario Resca, formerly of McDonald's Italy has promised to look at heritage like "a strategic asset, like oil, with zero costs, because it's there" and, despite a complete lack of art-historical background promises to succeed, because when he headed McDonald's, he didn't know anything about food either! The fact that the former casino-owner and McDonald's director is a personal friend of prime minister Silvio "Nice tan" Berlusconi, makes the situation all the more fishy.

The odd thing is, ultracapitalist rhetoric aside, the few suggestions Resca has made, are not totally unreasonable at all. He proposes to lend out art to foreign museums á la Louvre to make revenue for the constantly cash-deprived Italian culture industry. He also promises to make cultural heritage more accessible, a goal, as a reader of Culturegrrl points out, is sorely needed.

However, getting a few details right does not mean that one should ignore the elephant in room. We'll set aside the political considerations of exactly how wise it is to let a single man preside over the entire Italian culture industry and focus on the deeper cultural implications of this decision: Mr. Berlusconi installed a man who considers a Big Mac to be essentially the same thing as a Michelangelo, as the head honcho of a three thousand year old heritage business.

While the statement that in a month he is likely to have changed all of his positions offers a glimmer of hope, the comment about art being essentially like oil, because both are strategic natural assests, is almost a definition of a neoliberal reductio ad absurdum. Probably the least healthy way to think about cultural heritage is to say that because it can, in some cases, be utilized in a capitalist way, it would follow that it is inherently a market commodity and should be treated as such. Such an attitude is likely to lead to an ignorance of the more nuanced aspects of cultural heritage (public ownership, symbolic meaning to different groups of people, worth as an educational and scientific object, etc.) that Italy, with it's heritage already underfunded, could not afford. Clearly there are ways how good PR, smart entrepeneurship and a careful balance between pandering to the (paying) masses and catering for the interests of the non-paying public and of small interest groups (such as students, researchers and people who have a special connection with various pieces of cultural heritage) could pull Italian heritage out of the financial slump that they are in, but because it is a very fine line that needs to be treaded, it should be done by someone who is as aware of the non-market qualities of heritage as he is of the potentials for making profit.

Outsourcing museology

2008-11-25T10:30:00.000-08:00

Last week's Economist writes about the new hotspot of cultural preservation and art patronage: The middle-east. Over the past decade, Qatar and and the United Arab Emirates have been setting up new and ever the more lavish displays of cultural heritage. Abu Dhabi has a branch of the Louvre, an offshoot of the Guggenheim will soon be built by his eminence, Frank Gehry, whereas Dubai has become the new center for art collectors.

As the Economist points out, Qatar is making a bold step by opening up a museum of Islamic Art, but everything else in the region screams "western". Though stand-out asian and islamic objects are also being both sold and displayed, the focus is clearly on appropriating western culture (Manhattan skylines, Frank Gehry buildings, outsourced western museums etc.) Even with the museum of Islamic Art, one should stop and think for a second about the very concretely western origin of the museum and the fact that the building is designed by I.M. Pei who, though a Chinese, is associated most with western architecture.

On the one hand, there is nothing wrong with adopting culture. No society lives in a bubble, and the criss-crossing of heritage can often be diversifying not homogenizing. The Emirates seem to be crossing the line between admixture and imitation with great enthusiasm though. A 1.6 billion dollar cooperation project with Hollywood?

It would be easy enough to dismiss this as an example of Western civilization excercising "soft power" over the Arab world - clearly the Emirates and Qatar have enough money to buy the prestige that comes along with the posession of valuable western cultural treasures. If you can't defeat the enemy, then join him and so on.

But there is also another, different viewpoint. Western billionaires, art collectors and run-of-the-mill tourists are looking increasingly towards the Persian Gulf for leisure. The potential revenue the Emirates and/or Qatar could generate from these projects could far outweigh the costs. And if the Islamic heritage manages to survive alongside the flashy, occasionally corny, but certainly appealing skyscrapers and branches of internationally known brand-names in the culture industry, then maybe it's the Emirates, who are the exploiters and not the other way around.

The context debate contextualized.

2008-11-21T18:49:00.000-08:00

The Punching Bag writes on the importance of context in archaeology using the example of a stele from Zincii uncovered by the Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago. Thanks to the context, archaeologists have been able to extract information from it that would never have been revealed, had the object been looted by grave-robbers. At the same time, Cultural Property Observes asks: Context, so what? Very often, archaeologists come up with nothing when they look for context, and if every archaeological site were as carefully examined as "some people" want it to, nothing would ever be uncovered.

The irony is that neither of the bloggers are entirely without merit. For the layperson, the museum-goer, context often means nothing. What is learned from the context of, say an Ancient Greece crater, is condensed to a three-sentence summary short enough to be included on a white label, put next to the crater, next to hundreds of other objects of cultural patrimony with similar interpretive texts and so on... in the end, how many of us gaze at an ancient sculpture and go "wow, I am so impressed by this valuable insight into the social structure of the Ancient Egyptians"? It's all the more likely that we will gaze in awe because we are near a really old statue and don't even bother reading the texts.

As Lowenthal says, the idea of relics is to tie history into memory, but even so, the relic, as a physical objects remains the centerpiece of our memory. As such, the amount of history we get out of it, the amount of context, is something we as museumgoers do not often appreciate. So in that sense, yes an object is better than no object.

However, this all changes when we enter into the world of museum professionals, whose job it is to construct that history and mold it into a presentable form for the museumgoers. Here, context is crucial. Not only could information that a visitor would consider insignificant become a piece in the puzzle for a systematic understanding of ancient cultures, but consciously or unconsciously, the history eventually does trickle down to the audiences. While we may not appreciate the immediate effects of learning about historical societies when compared to the wow-factor of seeing something really old, we do appreciate the knowledge in retrospect. There is a lot about ancient cultures that have shaped the way we think and that have become commonplace in popular knowledge. From the vicious gladiator games of the Romans to the direct democracy of ancient Athens, I would think that most people would appreciate that knowledge as valuable.

But that of course, is all context.

It seems that the question: So what? about preserving "unnecessary" context when uncovering ancient relics is an example of a pundit failing to see further than one step along the logical train of thought. Certainly, if you're looking at an ancient tablet, the emotional impact of the tablet will overwhelm the cultural knowledge you receive from the interpretive text. But you can't take the tablet with you. You can take the context.

2008-11-20T08:02:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's New York Times writes about a collection of mummies discovered from the Chinese region of Xinyang that have become the centerpieces of an ethnic standoff. Uighur Nationalists in the Autonomous Region of Uighuria are using a collection of mummies with distinctly non-chinese features as proof that they settled in Xinyang first, and thus can lay claim to the area.

If you think about it, you can't but be impressed at how silly this dispute is. There are many conflicting claims as to who settled the region first: The Chinese claim that it was a military expedition of the Han dynasty at around 2nd century B.C. The Uighurs, according to scholarly accounts didn't come around until 10th century AD. And Uighurs themselves, inspired by the 6000-year-old mummies, cite them as proof that there was settlement in the area well before the Chinese and that somehow automatically gives the Uighurs legitimacy over the region.

As actual pieces of historical evidence, the ancient mummies are almost useless. Even if they did say something about the Uighur precedence of the Chinese (which they don't), as the article points out, the region is a melting pot. There has been an incredible variety of different nationalities inhabiting the region through many centuries, most of whom did probably not even conceive of themselves as "laying claim" to this areas, so any notion of right of ownership can only be retrospective.

However, as insight into the workings of cultural heritage in relation with political power, this is a superb example. The Chinese government, is keeping researchers away from the mummies, because it wants to keep the dominant narrative which asserts the long-term chinese dominance in the area. It is interesting that the Chinese, though they have physical control over the area, feel the need to look for evidence in support of their political dominance and/or keep evidence for the contrary out of the public's eyes. After all, their goal, which is to keep the area pacified and under the control of Chinese People's Republic, is as achievable through sheer military might, which they undoubtedly have over the Uighurians, as it is through a questionable historical narrative.

This reminds one of Foucault, and his idea that power is better asserted subversively, through means of "discipline" not through means of physical power - in his terms "punish". The Chinese might not worry about losing military control over the people now, but this way of governing is ultimately temporary, inefficient and dangerous. Instead, if one can create a framework, in which the Uighurians accept the Chinese presence in the Xianying as a historical fact, they will themselves feel less compelled to rebel against the Chinese and the need for military assertion of power will grow smaller. In effect, the Chinese are trying to control the area by assuring the Uighurians, that the Chinese are supposed to be there.

As Orwell once wrote: "He who controls the past, controls the future."

Back with the Huge Honking Statues

2008-11-18T11:44:00.000-08:00

The Greeks have decided to recreate the Colossus of Rhodes, originally one of the seven wonders of the world that was destroyed by an earthquake at around 200 BC. The decision is not a new one, apparently there was talk of doing that as far back as the Athens olympics in 2004, but as the island's mayor Hatzis Hatziefthimiou said: "Monumental works can't be copied for the simple reason that they risk becoming caricatures".

This time around, it's not going to be a copy, but more of a "homage", a much larger, fancier, 21st century Colossus that will feature a unique light show - a reference to the original Colossus representing the Sun God Helios - and can be visited by tourists. Nonetheless, the issue is not without controversy.

Even though the new statue is not going to be a copy, to originality of the idea can be questioned on many grounds. This wouldn't be the first time the Colossus has been reconstructed, since there is a quite famous homage to it standing on Liberty Island, New York. In fact, giant symbols of liberty have become so ubiquitous that they have become a cliché of landmarks. The Colossus would have to be pretty damn inventive to break through the presupposition that it's going to be "just another oversized guy at sea".

At the same time, it is always hard to tell, which landmarks manage to surpass their architectural unoriginality and take on another cultural role in the collective memory. For instance, never mind that the White House is a pretty boring neoclassical construction, pretty much no-one even sees the architecture when thinking about it. It's cultural heritage derives from it's political meaning, not the aesthetic one. Similarly, the Statue of Liberty is as much an iconic landmark, as it is a symbol of American freedom and democracy.

What will the new Colossus symbolize? Based on the comments of the mayor ("It will be a marvellous opportunity for the economy of the region"), it's going to be a symbol of an island capitalizing on transforming it's history into a commercialized venue of overblown grandiosity and not much else. It has worked in the past (See: EPCOT), but it's going to have to be a pretty damn inventive lightshow to take on any deeper meaning other than just being a parody of the old Wonder of the World.

2008-11-15T19:28:00.000-08:00

The British museum's new show "Babylon: Myth and Reality" is all about dispelling the age-old biblical depictions of Babylon as the center of all that is evil in this world, and showing the true heterogeneity of the old city through the ages. Apparently.

Of course, it is interesting that the contrast the curators have chosen is one of "Myth and Reality." Because, in the end, the "reality" of Babylon on display at the museum can only be a selective interpretation by curators and archaeologists that is necessarily tied to the myths that they are trying to overturn and the realities of our own 21st century existence.

Consider, for instance, that the exhibition features the invention of the sexagesimal time system or their monotheistic spirituality. The importance of both of these items for the Babylonians is something we cannot properly evaluate, because, well, they're dead, but it's almost certain that our fascination with these particularities have less to do with them being exemplary characteristics of Babylonian society, but with our relation to the sexagesimal time system and monotheistic religions.

Furthermore, a great deal of the Babylonian heritage on display is interpreted through the framework of the biblical myth. The exhibition sets the story of the Tower of Babel straight, corrects rumors and fact-checks on the Bible. Fascinating - yes, factual - yes, probably, any more contextuall real than the biblical myths - no, not really. The "real" of the exhibition may be grounded in archeological evidence, but the narrative constructed by the curators is just as grounded in the realities, interests and agendas of our own time, as the biblical mythology.

2008-11-15T18:56:00.000-08:00

The Independent covers the fruitful directorate of Malcolm Rogers at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. The director's tenure is characterized not only by a $500 million capital campaign and a Norman Foster building in the very near future, but also by a controversial approach to curation and museum running.

There are many ways how to interpret his decisions in the MFA, here are some that seem intriguing to me:

His approach to curation seems to be reinterpreting not only the role of the museum in the 21st century, but also delivering a very non-traditional narrative of the 21st century itself. His shows draws the emphasis away from the traditional art-museum elite of Grand Masters, impressionists and modern artists and more towards the underrepresented, but also towards popular culture.

However, while I hoped to find a more democratic perspective of the world, at least based on articles that I read, Rogers seems to have replaced a narrative of colonial power with an appraisal of power and status in the 21st century. The exhibitions "Speed, style and beauty", "Things I Love" and "Dangerous Curves" display objects almost uniquely tied to the 21st century idea of prestige and power: Yachts, fast cars, guitars owned by rock stars. His flirtation with Las Vegas (he rented 21 Monet's in his collection out to a hotel and casino in the Sin City) seems to reinforce that - Rogers seems to have replaced a 19th century narrative of power (through colonialism, imperialism and a strict hierarchy of cultures) with a 21st century one, celebrating the culture of the wealthy and the popular.

If his narrative of the world seems elitist, his ideas for the museum are more ambiguous. On the one hand, he seems to have an interest in expanding on the underrepresented, as the new MFA building will reportedly include the largest gallery of American Art, including that of Central and South America. He underscores the importance of sharing between museums and the importance of innovation in research. However, his ideas on how to bring the museum closer to the people include "Winesdays" (regular wine tasting events) and College Days complete with Live DJ-s, partying and treasure hunts. I find myself asking, is it necessary to bend the museum to whatever the present fad in appealing to the masses seems to be? Is it that hard to find a non-traditional solution that doesn't constantly affirm the economically-oriented power relations of the 21st century?

And finally, a nail in the coffin is his suggestion that art museums should sell to get rid of the "junk", junk here being "all these Attic vases". This seems to suggest that the museum is not simply a repository of significant heritage and a center of education, but an explicitly elite repository of only what he considers to be the very best of heritage. Not quite the way to shake the reputation of a museum being the tool of reaffirming societal power relations, is it?

Lord Elgin strikes again!

2008-11-03T19:01:00.000-08:00

Not the 'original' Thomas Bruce "I-have-a-noun-named-after-me" Elgin, but this time his son, James Bruce, who during the second opium war ordered the destruction of the Yuanming Yuan palace, which resulted in not only the destruction of important cultural heritage, but also the looting of what was left.

Today, the Guardian reports that Christie's is about to sell two artifacts from the palace that belonged to the French fashion designer Yves Saint-Laurent as part of the designer's collection, after China refused to buy the bronze statues privately for £18 million.

As with the Elgin marbles, the legal status of the Bronze status is disputable. China calls them "looted objects". Others disagree, because China had ceded the area on which the Summer Palace was located to the British during the time of the looting. However, as with the Elgin marbles, the fact that the position held by the British is legal, does not necessarily make it right.

Our class discussion and readings about power serve as a tool to shed light on this particular issue. As the bronze sculptures being sold by Christie were in the posession of a private owner, they hold no particular value for the British, who originally acquired them from the Chinese, nor the French, aside from the fact that they were associated with one of the icons of Frenchness. On the grounds of cultural import, there is no reason why the artifacts should go to anyone else other than the Chinese.

However, the Chinese now have to contend with the fact the bronze sculptures are now imbued not only with cultural value, but also monetary value. The origin of this financial value is not hard to trace - you need a person in physical posession of the object, willing to exchange it for money, another person willing to provide the money in exchange for the physical object and an audience who acknowledges the legitimacy of the transaction. In essence, an arbitrary power relation established in the 1800-s has been propagated through the centuries, and Christie's, by recognizing the monetary value of these artifacts is thus by extension condoning the power relations established by means that in the 21th century have been thoroughly discredited (i.e colonialism and imperialism).

So, yes, the Chinese government is correct for a change. Putting a price tag on objects, while at the same time recognizing that the source of the financial value is today illegitimate, though technically legal, constitutes moral, if not legal, robbery. This is exactly the reason why the 1970 marker is considered important by the AAMD and various other organizations. Perhaps one should start thinking about the impact this should, or could have on private collectors.

The obligatory 9/11 post.

2008-11-01T13:27:00.000-07:00

The 9/11 memorial competition resulted in eight designs that had far more in common than they differed. Unsurprisingly so, the rules for the competition were unusually rigid, requiring the entries to honor everyone who died in the attacks, designate the spaces where the Twin Towers once stood, provide a contemplative space for visitors, etc. plus a variety of "guiding principles" that the memorial was expected to conform to. Thus, the results featured almost universally lowered spaces at the foundations of the Twin Towers, some sort of light fixtures or falling water, walls with names on them and other similar staples of 21st century memorial design.

And being similar, they also came under attack from similar criticism. Max Page writes about how instead of a memorial looking back, Ground Zero could become the site of something new and forward-looking that embodies the nature of New York and the people that inhabit it. This article offers a similar critique, accusing the memorial designs for lacking a human resonance and being overly "spectacular" and "corporate".

The 9/11 memorial controversy provides helpful insight into how people think about memorializing. There seem to be two complementary elements at play in the case of the 9/11 memorial - the aesthetic and the personal. Aesthetically, the 9/11 memorial is trying to achieve monumentality, trying to preserve the memory of the people who perished in the attacks by associating them with a grand aesthetic design and thus engraining them in the minds of the visitors. However, this is hard to achieve without a personal component - the visitors should feel a personal connection to the memorial, feel that they, not the architecture, is central to the site and the story it represents. In the end, the people matter, not the buildings.

This seems to apply generally as well as particularly. Not to say that objects with power cannot hold our attention simply due to sentimental, personal value, or because of high aesthetic qualities, but generally the artifacts, places and buildings humans value most tend to exhibit a combination of the two. For instance, lavish gothic churches can be appreciated simply for their remarkable architecture and craftmanship, but a viewer appreciating the Notre-Dame on those grounds, will never walk away with the same experience as a viewer for whom the church is also a place of congregation, prayer and, in the case of the Notre-Dame, also an integral part of historical Parisian landscape.

If we accept the argument that objects can have 'inherent' power, as far their qualities and aesthetics appeal to what can broadly be described as a common human sensibility, we could also claim that in order to make a true impression, they would also have to create a personal connection to which this aesthetic impact can be tied to. For instance, one can appreciate gold, for the many qualities that make it appealing for us (it's rarity, durability, malleability), but one usually does not value gold in an abstract sense, but through a personal connection - gold as jewelery, gold as material for religious objects, gold as means of economic exchange.

So, this brings me back to why the personal impact of the 9/11 memorial is crucial. If the memorial is dominated by it's aesthetic complexity, it runs the danger of becoming a "dead monument", one that is seen as an artistic accomplishment, but not as an important site for a large number of people. Granted, it is less likely to happen in the case of this particular memorial (just by the virtue of the fact that 9/11 itself had such a large impact on people's lives, so some of it will rub off on the memorial), but it is an important factor to keep in mind nonetheless.

2008-10-29T16:41:00.000-07:00

It looks as if all too often the intricate relationship between a 'relic' and the surrounding history that is imbuing it with meaning is not understood by the very people who's job it is to recognize such things. The continued story of the Elgin marbles looks like an example of that. In this post at Elginism, the author discusses the potential of returning the Marbles to Greece for the 2012 London Olympics. I noted with interest that although the majority of Britons support the return of the marbles, the Museum still opposes it on the grounds (since "the Greeks have nowhere to store them in" argument is no longer valid) that it would create a precedent and more artifacts would start flowing out of museums.

The post summarizes well why that argument does not hold water, and as such it seems more and more likely that the Museum simply does not want to let go of marbles. While it's true that the British Museum would lose some of it's prestige along with the marbles, it is questionable how much of a positive impact the marbles are making for the museum in the first place. After all, if most britons, upon seeing the marbles do not think "priceless Greek antiquities" but instead "the Museum should give it back", they may be still draw a crowd to the Museum, but not for the reasons the Museum would want them to.

Clearly, the story of the marbles does not stop with their removal from Athens by lord Elgin, and I'm left wondering, if already the story of the Museum's refusal to return them is starting to overshadow their prominence as important antiquities. Considering that the museum should think whether it even wants to hold on to a piece of heritage that makes most visitors think about the injustice of the museum and not the artistic merit of the object. It seems that returning them would benefit both the Marbles themselves (because at Athens, they could once again be viewed in context with the Parthenon and not be overshadowed by their fate in the past few hundred years) as well as the British Museum (since they would replace negative publicity associated with the Marbles with positive publicity associated with their return). So my hopes are high that Museum will realize that as well and work out a deal by 2012.

[edit from 10/31] In light of the last class discussion, hopefully this rewording of my argument will help to elucidate the point. Whatever power the Marbles have accumulated over time from being identified with the Parthenon, the foundations of Western Civilization, high aesthetic principles and whatnot, may become overshadowed by the power of being associated with the Greece-Britain debacle. If the British Museum is not very careful in dealing with this situation, then it's own image in the collective consciousness of the Brits, the cogniscenti and pretty much eveyone who matters to the Museum, may start tarnishing.

2008-10-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

Le Monde reports on the International Red Cross returning an archive of 80 000 items pertaining to the Spanish Civil War to the Republic of Spain, to help them research and preserve the memory of this significant event. In addition to being a significant endeavor on it's own right, this news items reminds me of an important detail in cultural heritage studies that is often overlooked to the detriment of the heritage: Museums and universities aren't the only ones making cultural heritage.

It is quite easy to get stuck in the familiar grounds of museums, public humanities and cultural studies, when talking about cultural heritage. Even discussions about the illegal relocation of objects is often talked about in a way that involves only private individuals, museums and the state as a mediator between them (through the process of legislation). The truth of the matter is that many organizations, some of which have no direct relation to issues of cultural heritage, can become involved in the debate, some willing, some unwilling.

The Red Cross is one example of such an organization, whose prime objective is not to deal with the preservation of cultural heritage issues, but who has been placed in a situation where it needs to deal with it. Another organization is the US Military. Larry Rothfield, of the Punching Bag, reports on the repercussions of military inaction in Iraq leading to the looting of the Iraq National Museums and destruction of a significant amount of the world's cultural heritage. The truth of the matter seems to be, that a lot of the destruction was caused not by malicious intent, but simply by wild ignorance of cultural heritage issues by the people planning the war. Hence the addition to the military field manual on Stability of Operations regarding the protection of cultural heritage.

These examples should serve as warning as to how dangerous it is to close certain subjects in an ivory tower and pretend that they are not related to "real world" issues. Cultural heritage, perhaps by it's reference to the past and the world "culture" in it, is often designated as a secondary concern by people dealing with "more important stuff", such as the economy or governance. However, such neglect can easily come around and bite you in the butt, as the world-wide debate regarding the protection of the Iraq museum has shown. However, such understanding has to begin with recognizing cultural heritage as a primary concern, not a tangentially related subset of a more important concern. For instance, the military need not protect cultural heritage, because it is vital to the stability of the region (though true), it needs to protect heritage, because it heritage is a important part of humanity. Similarly, while New York City's assessment of the economic profitability of Eliasson's "Waterfalls" may provide insight into the cost-benefit analysis of public humanities, it needs to be recognized at the same time, that an economic analysis can never be the sole assessment to the success of a piece of public cultural heritage.

Just look at the pretty pictures.

2008-10-25T18:22:00.000-07:00

A reviewer for the Independent has a problem. The Byzantium exposition in the Royal Academy shows a lot of flashy relics, but little substance on the side. According to him, the exhibition wows the senses, but the opportunity to "address our difficulties about the subject matter" is lost. Granted, he's pretty vague there in actually laying out what he means by that, and the Royal Academy is a bit far for the time being, do just drop by and have a look, but on a hunch, I would say that the author is pointing out an item of debate, quite common in today's museums.

To what extent should art exhibits have interpretive texts explaining their context to us? At first, the answer seems obvious: it's all about context, right? In the end, we do not understand the objects in museums, unless we know the context in which they were used and produced, if we don't know what preceded and followed them. As Lowenthal points out in "The Past is a Foreign Country", relics revitalize history and re-make into memory. This is why museums are so effective tools of education. Why would we not want as much context as possible?

Well, the issue gets a little murkier in the case of art museums. A case could be made, that what art museums really are interested in, is not conveying the history of the movements, the context of the paintings and the story of their production, but the timeless aesthetic qualities that transcend history and memory and make themselves apparent without any background knowledge, without any context. In simpler terms: it's the 'wow-factor'. The art museums could say: if you want context, take an art history class, we are interested in conveying the full range of the aesthetic experience.

This is why art galleries and even art museums presenting artworks hundreds of years old, are almost invariably presented in ubiquitious white spaces. Rarely are 16th century portraits hung on replicas of 16th century mansions, complete with quills, candles, beds and dinner trays (though there are exceptions to that). The idea is to draw attention to the art, not to dilute it with clutter. The information the art can give us of the past, is often secondary to the emotion it evokes in the viewer there and then.

Of course, this is but one interpretation, and others (whom I happen to agree with), would say that the intent of the artwork is lost, if one can not appreciate the context in which it was made. Most of Renaissance art requires an intricate knowledge of both the Bible and of the Antique, something quite well understood by the people appreciating art back in the 16th century, but somewhat more obscure for today's generations. While it is possible to appreciate the mastery of the composition, the emotions conveyed through the characters, many of yesteryear's paintings would ultimately remain incomprehensible, or at least greatly diminished without the contextualizing texts and audio material.

And one final point: By being keepers of heritage, museums have a certain responsibility to provide the context, even if they do not consider it their mission. By being in posession of a unique piece of cultural heritage and by committing to educating the public, a museum takes on the responsibility of presenting the contextual information in an easily accessible way, because no one else can do it. One can write art history books, or produce documentary films, or write fiction, but the bottom line is, that the museum will be the only one in posession of the actual object, and thus has the monopoly on the history-turning-memory process that Lowenthal describes in his book. Thus the museum is not entitled to simply cutting out the history.

And in the end, if all you want from a museum is the art and not the history, then no-one is obliging you to read.

PS. this post may have been influenced more by the appalling lack of context in the Latvian National Art museum, than the Royal Academy show, but if I understand the reviewer correctly, then the latter seems to be suffering from a similar problem.

So where is culture going anyway?

2008-10-22T12:56:00.000-07:00

Economic crisis is great for culture! No wait, it's horrible! No, painting is the new gold! While the punditocracy is all over generalizing ideological statements about the economy, the world of culture seems to leave them scratching heads. No one is entirely clear how the general public will look at heritage when looking in their wallet makes them more and more worried. Some even ask: why care, when the world is ending?

There seems to be little doubt that as far as auctions go, people are buying like they used to and many fear that museum donations will dry up as former donors have more pressing issues at hand (coughlehmanbrotherscough). When it comes to the people on the street though, I find myself thinking more like John Harris of the Guardian. It is true, that when times get rough, then culture is the first to lose funding and the last to regain it. But while the scope and vision of heritage production may have to be contracted, the will and interest to both create and consume may, in fact, increase.

As John Harris points out, lean times often lead to creativity - great changes have always precipitated great art, from the great paintings and groundbreaking philosophy of the Great French Revolution to the sardonic comedy films and depressingly realistic literature of the 1930-s. And revolutionary times, remain the topic of future artists long after their passing, Hollywood, for instance has still not gotten over the World War II fad.

But there is room for heritage as well, because finally, as the New York Times article notes: "[Art] doesn't change, no matter what the economy." Heritage provides the anchor during cataclysmic times that ties people to their roots and provides them with the opportunity to say: "If this old vase could survive 3000 years of floods, earthquakes, wars, massacres, famine and plague, then a fluctuation in the stock market is not so bad." In a situation like this, it becomes apparent how cultural heritage is not only our link to the past, but also something that ties the past to the present and puts the present in context of the past, in a way more tangible than any op-ed in the New York Times.

As Lowenthal says: "yesterday's relics enlarge today's landscapes". Heritage, which has the timestamp of history on it, is the only thing that can make history beyond the date of our birth real to us. If, at times of great distress in present, relics can provide us with a tangible feeling of the great distresses of the past, then they may serve indeed as great comfort. Which is something many of us could use at this point.

Ramblings about authenticity cont-d.

2008-10-20T06:54:00.000-07:00

The case of the Reina-Sophia museum, while interesting in its own right, contains a much broader discussion topic about attitudes towards 'authentic' cultural heritage. If we consider Serra's rebuilt sculpture to be the 'authentic' one, how then should we approach buildings that were destroyed in wars and rebuilt thereafter? Entire cities were rebuilt after World War II, in places ranging from Warsaw to St. Malo, and tourists flock there every day with only a few aware that many or even most of the buildings they look at as 'authentic' are actually post-war reconstructions.

And if they knew, would it even matter? Almost every old building has been restored or renovated many times over the centuries. The Tallinn Town Hall (see picture) is hailed as the "only surviving gothic style Town Hall in Northern Europe", but over the 700 years of its existence, it has burnt down, been renovated, the spire of the Hall has been reconstructed twice (once after being struck by lightning, once after being struck by a Soviet bomb), the weather wane has been replace three times and the two dragon-head drains were added a good few hundred years after the original construction.

So if the Tallinn Town Hall is still 'authentic', the Changdeokung palace in Korea is still 'authentic' (though having been burnt to the ground more than once), why would the Richard Serra sculpture be anything other than authentic? Or the restored Bamiyan Buddhas (assuming they ever finish the reconstruction).

It seems to me that even in cases of tangible cultural artifacts, the intangible aspect associated with them is what gives the objects properties of cultural heritage. Benjamin calls it 'aura', Lowenthal explains it as the binding history and memory into a physical object. If that's how we evaluate cultural heritage, then the physical equivalence of an artifact to what it was at the time of its original construction is of negligible importance. In fact, part of what gives the artifact its value are the changes it contains and the history it reflects. If we could somehow teleport the original Bamiyan Buddhas from the time of their construction in the 6th century to present day, they would not be as 'authentic' as the (hopefully) restored versions, since they would not reflect the 15 centuries of human history in the way the restored versions would. For the same reason we can consider the Berlin Reichstage (see picture) as 'authentic' cultural heritage though it only bears a passing resemblance to the original.

It's the aura, not the atoms, stupid.

Of French Journalism, Spanish museums, American art and Jewish Marxism.

2008-10-18T16:57:00.000-07:00

Pretty much every paradox that came up in our class discussion of authenticity in heritage is contained within this article in Le Monde that lays out the story of a 30-ton steel construction by the father of all 30-ton steel constructions, Richard Serra. Created in the 1970-s for a Spanish museum, the steel construction was eventually given to an art stockpiling firm, because the museum did not have the finances to maintain it and was out of public view until the commissioning museum of Reina-Sophia wanted to reinstall it.

But, gasp, surprise, shriek, the installation had disappeared.

The solution: have Richard Serra himself build a carbon copy of the work and install that one.

Cue deep philosophical dilemma(tm).

Is the sculpture currently on display at the Reina-Sophia the copy or the original? It is made by the same artist, he did not get paid anything beyond the cost of construction, there is even a precedent (sculptures of Auguste Rodin's works made of casts that the artist produced are considered originals) so technically there is no reason not to call it the original.

Except of course, it's not the same installation.

This case shows how the term 'authenticity' is indeed a very fluid one. We call the sculptures made of Rodin's casts originals, but for some reason we have doubts about Equal-Parallel/Guernica-Bengasi. Another example is photography, where originals, no matter how they are defined, are in the end already copies of the original negatives. For instance, this webpage defines an "original photograph" as one that was developed at the year of its taking, though there is no real reason to set that line at two years, five years, or twenty five years - after all, what does it matter when a negative is transferred to a positive, the result is still as much a copy in 1970 as it was in 1930.

So where do we draw a line between an original and a copy? Walter Benjamin would answer, that before the age of mechanical reproduction, it was based on the "aura" - the duration and history associated with an object. Today, "To an ever greater degree the work of art reproduced becomes the work of art designed for reproducibility. From a photographic negative, for example, one can make any number of prints; to ask for the “authentic” print makes no sense. But the instant the criterion of authenticity ceases to be applicable to artistic production, the total function of art is reversed. Instead of being based on ritual, it begins to be based on another practice – politics."

However, he is wrong, because people still ask for "authentic" prints of photos and authentic mechanical reproductions of 30-ton steel slabs. While I would dismiss Benjamin's Marxist dream of a world where all art is based on politics, his idea of the "aura" warrants consideration. To take the idea a bit further - it would seem that through ritual, authority and persuasion, the "aura" of an original can be transferred to an object that is essentially a copy, but in a relation so close to the original that the reality can for all intents and purposes be dismissed. For that reason, people have no trouble recognizing sculptures made of Rodin's casts as originals and for that reason I would also consider Serra's Equal-Parallel/Guernica-Bengasi 2.0 an original.

Though I admit, Le Monde's journalist poses a difficult question: what if the original shows up?
[edit from 10/25]

I am tempted to answer to that: 20 years down the road, it will hardly matter. The history constructed around the object is complex and intriguing enough that through either public opinion or a consensus of art historians, both objects will be declared "originals", which they for all intents and purposes, are. It seems to me, that amount of suspension of disbelief is low enough here, for people to accept both objects as 'true', should the other one ever reappear. Certainly, if they could do it with Rodin's casts...

There's always a bigger fish

2008-10-06T19:36:00.000-07:00

CultureGrrl provides an interesting counterexample to the widely accepted notion of museums being at the end of the art acquisition food chain. The Corcoran Gallery in Washington is deaccessioning 10 of it's holdings for an estimated $4-6 million dollars. This got me interested in how museums deal with the issue of deaccessioning, and after some research, I came up with Code of Ethics for Museums that establishes some pretty tough guidelines for deaccessioning. The comments made by culturegrrl and the Art Law Blog lead me to believe that in general, deaccessioning is a policy that is treated with utmost respect in the States as well as abroad.

To that end, I am left wondering, whether this may not be exxagerated a bit beyond proportion. Keeping in mind some past discussions regarding the future of the museum and mr. Skramstrad's fabulous article, I do not see, in principle, the horrors that deaccessioning works causes to a museum. If indeed, works are being sold to principally other museums whose capacity to care for the works are at least on par with those of the selling museum, the profits are used to better direct the focus of the selling museum and the work itself is exposed to a wider variety of people, then it should by all means be done. In the end, it does not matter in which museum's collection a certain work exists, as long as it exists in a collection.

Of course a looser policy towards deaccessioning opens up a new can of worms. There is the question of non-profits using works acquired through donations or by public money (be it tax deduction or straight-out government funding) to essentially make profits, not to mention the erosion of public trust that the Art Law Blog so concisely points out. On the other, it seems, at least as evidenced by the Code of Ethics and the little information available on the Corcoran case that museums are quite aware of these pitfalls and are taking that well into account when choosing to go down that route.

And finally, I am intrigued by the fact that the most recent exhibition of one of the works being deaccessioned by Corcoran was in 1990, that is 29 years ago. The works being sold may end up in less prominent museums, but they may also end up on display. Everything else being equal, I would much rather see the Cole being sold by Corcoran on display in a small museum somewhere in middle America than in storage in Washington as the gallery stands faithful to its collection.

But what if the works are bought by private individuals? What if the works end up being completely removed from the public sphere and end up collecting dust in the basement of a rockefeller-wannabe for decades? A devil's advocate's answer would be: how is this different from collecting dust in the basement of a museum for decades?

This of course relates back to many of the topics we've discussed in class. First, public money has been used by the museum in purchasing the object, so the public should have a say in whether or not that object can be deaccessioned to a private owner. This is probably why the museum is seen usually as the last item in the cultural heritage food chain. Even if the museum strictly adheres to the policy of using the revenue only for augmenting the collection, there are many strings attached. What if the deaccessioned works were a gift? How does that portray the museum in the eyes of would-be donors? How does decreasing the collection of a museum, even if temporarily, to an auction house, no less, jibe with the professed goals of most museums - that is education and preservation? If the museum does not know where the works are going to, how can they be sure that they are well preserved.

In short, if it's tightly regulated, then it's rightly so. In the case of the Corcoran though, more information is needed before passing judgement.

You'd think that by 1950 they would have switched to paper...

2008-10-04T17:34:00.000-07:00

The Independent reports on the Australian history being rewritten thanks to a series of rock-paintings found in Wellington Range, depicting sea-faring vessels from 15 000 to 50 years ago. This proves, among other things, that Australians have been a sea-faring people from far longer than expected, and that there has been contact between the Australians and the rest of the world well before James Cook.

This creates an interesting contrast between tangible and intangible heritage. The tangible heritage - the hundreds upon hundreds of rock paintings are certain to draw hundreds of thousands of visitor to the Wellington Range to marvel at 15 000 years worth of heritage. I am left wandering though, how much will the intangible heritage change - will people adopt the rewritten Aboriginal history and start thinking of the natives as a highly developed seafaring cultures with many overseas contacts well before James Cook's time? Or will they simply take the rock-paintings of World War II era warships as another proof of the huge gap between Civilized Man and the Noble Savage?

If tangible heritage is a pretty straightforward affair - it's stuff, it's there, there's little you can do about it, then the intangible appears much more complicated, as it is composed of ideas without an inherent truth value attached to them. The American myth of the self-made man is very much a part of the country's cultural heritage, whether or not the evidence supports it; the "800 years of slavery" that the Estonian people supposedly suffered through is a fixed part of the nation's heritage, even if tangible heritage (like written records for instance) prove, that it may not have that bad all of time at all.

So how should one approach that part of intangible heritage that is also wrong? If the heritage were disconnected from the real world and had no impact on native-non-native relations today, I would say, it doesn't matter. One shouldn't care about whether the oral tradition actually makes sense or not - after all, there is quite a bit in native cultures that doesn't make sense (at least to us), what matters is that it is heritage, and thus tells us something about the people who consider it heritage, be it native Americans, Australians or the Western World.

Unfortunately the heritage does make a difference, and attitudes ingrained in collective consciousness very much affect people's attitudes towards indigenous people today. That's why I want to believe that the newly discovered rock paintings will change the traditional imagery of the Australian aborigenes at least somewhat. At the same time, this is also why the "outdated" views on natives, even if the society has rejected them, cannot simply be deleted out of existence in an Orwellian stroke of revisionism, but have to be preserved at least in recording. It serves as a lesson for future generations, but also as an independent object of study - a piece of intangible heritage worthy of preservation as much as any other.

They've been unveiling it for the past hundred years, by the way.

2008-10-02T04:28:00.000-07:00

A NYTimes article from today has a mildly misleading title. "Archeologists Unveil Majestic Roman Ruins", it says, talking about new discoveries in ancient Ostia, a Roman port town at the mouth of the river Tiber. The irony, of course, is that the four newly uncovered buildings aside, Ostia, as the article itself admits, has not been "unveiled" at all, but has rather been sitting there for the better part of recorded history and has been a site for archeological digs since the early 20th century.

At the same time it is nearly three times the size of Pompeii, features multi-story houses that according to the NYTimes article "rival the primacy of Pompeii" and is located a mere 20 kilometers from Rome. Everything would point to this being the worlds biggest tourist-magnet.

Alas! the NYTimes headline is also right. For many people, myself included, Ostia was literally unveiled by this article. I admit that I had heard nothing of Ostia before coming upon this article, and I take quite an interest in ancient Rome. The Times also hits the nail on head by pointing out that in the end, Pompeii is more famous because of its more dramatic history.

This is a potent claim. A lot of the value we place in cultural heritage is determined not by the "objective value" of the item, but by the stories and myths associated with it. The Mona Lisa's already impressive popularity skyrocketed when it was stolen from the Louvre in 1911 and a lot of the Elgin marbles' claim to fame probably comes less from the uniqueness of the works and more from their contested history.

As such controversies, stories and myths become a part of cultural heritage, then there is nothing wrong with them per se. Not only do they enrich the collective consciousness, but also they probably get more kids to museums than good old-fashioned pot-shards without exciting stories to tell. At the same time, wonderful places like Ostia go unnoticed.

Is the art crunch coming?

2008-09-30T18:25:00.001-07:00

One of the Guardian's bloggers talks about the end of the art bubble, describing an analogy about how talent in the art world today is as overvalued as subprime loans a year ago. What got me thinking was how the credit crunch may affect the cultural heritage world in much more tangible ways than this somewhat far-flung analogy.

In my previous posts, I've written about how financial incentives can often undermine the good cause of preserving, spreading and creating cultural heritage. One need not look far to encounter examples of culture being turned into caricatures because of a heavy financial bias. But like it or not, museums need money to function and today this is becoming more apparent than ever before, not only in the private sphere but in public museums as well - governments are cutting off funding, endowments are shrinking and people are less willing to donate. This will change things - for instance donors will feel more compelled to impose their will on the museums, since the museums are more inclined to accept donations - but this may well be the least significant change. Some museums will probably have to close up, others will have to reduce the opening times and so on.

The logical questions follow: If you are forced to reduce your budget, will you decrease opening times or spend less on restoration? Will you increase emphasis on "blockbuster" exhibitions or stay with the hardline no-nonsense educational approach? If these fundamental questions could be ignored, if not by all, then at least by some museums five years ago, then today they may become life-or-death issues. And quite possibly, upholding the ideals of the museologists may then no longer be a viable option.

Of course, one may debate that this is not such a bad thing after all. In the end, even if some museums eventually bite the dust, the economic situation will force many museums to actually deal with such fundamental questions that they may have ignored otherwise. In the end, people start thinking more. And that can never be a bad thing.

The fabergé egg went well with her wife's dress, apparently

2008-09-28T12:03:00.000-07:00

The past few days have brought up many questions about the obligations art owners have to the general public. The Independent reports on Russian oligarchs (or as the contrived-pun-friendly publication prefers to call them, oligarts) buying together entire collections of historical artworks and the Guardian argues that the Queen's collection of classic art is being misused by rarely exhibiting it to the public.

In the case of museums, it is pretty obvious that one of their main objectives is to display the heritage they collect. In the case of private collectors that question is a bit more ambiguous. One could argue that as private citizens they have complete right to do whatever they want with the loot that they legally acquire - display them, if they are so inclined, or chop them into pieces and use 'em as firewood, though the economic advantages of such a behavior are somewhat questionable. However, having spent the last month or so discussing how the value of cultural heritage is produced through the meaning it has for a certain group of people, one must ponder whether that value is entirely lost when the ownership of a certain piece of patrimony is transferred from a public to a private owner.

The more I think about it, the more I want to answer no to that question. On purely economic terms: If a wealthy businessman (let's call him Abramovich) buys a five-millon-dollar painting, he becomes the owner of a five-million dollar investment, one that could potentially make him a significant profit in the future. The reason why that painting can sell at such high a price, is essentially because the public considers it a unique piece of cultural heritage. It's value is determined directly by the amount of signifance different communities place in it, and it seems only logical that by creating this monetary value, that public would also become entitled to reaping the benefits.

Of course, the reality is not as idealistic as that. If Abramovich really wants to reap profits, he will shed the painting from view for twenty years, causing its price to skyrocket when he finally decides to bring the piece back to the market. Or he buys a work of a relatively unknown artist, hoping that once (s)he attains fame, he can sell the painting for a ludicrously higher price. It's how the art world has worked since the 19th century.

Fortunately, the public interest that creates the incentive for buying also creates the incentive for displaying. Often the social capital accumulated by displaying the pictures in a museum/gallery with a nice plaque saying "gift of R. Abramovich" underneath outweighs the potential financial profit and satisfaction of an excentric desire achieved by removing the artwork from the public's eyes. Hell, judging by the Van Pelt library, you don't even need to buy artwork, you can simply attach a plaque under a urinal with the words "the relief you are enjoying was made possible by X" on it. It has a vaguely duchampian feel to it, but apparently it works. Similarly, most of the Russian oligarts buying up the cornerstones of Western Art do not store them in their own private mansion in Sochi, but rather in public art galleries in center city Moscow. I hope that Royal family of Britain will recognize the potential of the social capital they would accumulate by sharing their ridiculously high-profile art collection with the ignoble lot, and put that Massacre of the Innocents on permanent display, along with, you know, some of the other 7000 paintings that they own.

Pushkin, Dostoyevski and the other great Russian heroes.

2008-09-27T12:09:00.000-07:00

The discussion about what constitutes cultural heritage is complicated by the darker streaks of our past. A recent contest in Russia to determine the greatest national figure in Russian history turned up Joseph Stalin in the impressive 12th place. He stood proudly next to poets and writers (such as Pushkin, Dostoyevsky) as well as other leaders closer to his own caliber (Ivan the Terrible, Lenin, general Alexander Suvorov).

It is hard to argue that Stalin does not constitute a part of Russias cultural heritage. If we define cultural heritage as something of importance to a certain group or community, as we have done in class so far, then certainly, Stalin fits the category. What is both troubling and telling, is the fact that Stalin is not only viewed as an important historical figure, but as a positive historical figure by many, particularly in the younger generation.

The troubling aspect of this fact, I think need not be explained. But this perception of one of history's greatest mass murderers also shows, how history and heritage, though both begin with an h, may produce quite different understandings.

Stalin's case in Russia, is of course an extreme example, but similar cases can be found on the other side of the Atlantic as well. Take, for instance the case of the Monticello manor, home of Thomas Jefferson, which has for decades been presented without any regard to the detail (quite evident in the fact Monticello was, after all, a plantation) that the great American president was also a great American slave-owner.

In short, there is a tendency to over-emphasize the virtues of nationally important figures and downplay the vices. This is, of course, stating the obvious, but it is also an aspect where museums, universities and legislators are in a position to change things. One topic that has come up time and again in classroom discusion and in our readings, is that in the end, curators are the ones who give us the story. This is a case not unlike the British pre-fab controversy, where the specialists are expected not to mirror popular opinion, but to exhibit foresight and a sense the bigger picture.

It seems that Russian concept of the bigger picture involves writing history textbooks, in which Stalin is legitimized as a national hero. Go figure.

Not quite the age of Metusaleh.

2008-09-24T12:13:00.000-07:00

"National Patrimony" and "Cultural Heritage" usually makes one think of things several hundred (or thousand, if you ask the archeologists) years old. After all, how can you inherit something that may be younger than you are. In addition, in the short history of nations and national patrimony, there has been literally so much stuff from pre-modern times that needed saving that newer patrimony was often thrown to the wayside.

For that reason, it is particularly pleasing to see, that the British will be granting Grade II status to a postwar prefabricated housing project in south-east London. This has caused a lot of confusion in the British public, not only because the government is preserving something with age still in the double-digits, but because many people don't even consider them worth preserving. The prefab housing projects are, quite simply, ugly.

Of course, the job of cultural heritage preservers is to think beyond 'ugly'. It is because of their uglyness, that the prefab housing projects, authored often by visionary city planners like Le Corbusier or Berthold Lubetkin, have been torn down over the past few decades and replaced with more modern version of the middle-class suburbian ideal. The downside is that unless regulatory action is taken, an entire period of history will soon be forever lost in everything but pictures.

Of course, one may claim, that if anything, then erasing such ugly and ineffective buildings from history may well be in the best interests of society. Certainly the classical liberal types will argue that if market forces decide to tear down the prefabs, then they should be torn down. Unfortunately, market forces, as usually is the case, do not take into account the social and historical impact the prefab estates have had on people's minds, and the loss for human culture that their destruction causes, may only become apparent after the fact.

This has happened in many places across Eastern Europe,where Communist Architecture was often left in disarray after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The result is, that for instance in Estonia, only 9 buildings constructed in the 1960-s in the entire country have been declared cultural heritage and the rest have either been torn down or are on their way to demolition, very often accompanied by intense public resistance. The most famous example of this is probably the demolition of the Sakala Center in Tallinn in 2006 - a pinnacle of 1980-s soviet architecture, that prompted widespread public protests and a grassroots campaign towards the preservation of what is left of Soviet architecture in Tallinn. Unfortunately, with little results, since the laws and development plans for the city take a long time to change, and meanwhile, buildings are being torn down left and right.

It seems that sometimes we take heritage for granted, particularly if it dates from our own time and has surrounded us for decades without anyone pointing a sign with the sign "National Patrimony" to it. Similarly, 17th century Parisians were just as likely to take the Louvre for granted and the residents of Pompeij never thought that their city would one day become a symbol of Ancient Roman culture. Today, we cannot count on enlightened monarchs or unexpected volcano eruptions to preserve the heritage for us, so in that sense, the initiative of the British ministry of culture to preserve the prefabs is highly appropriate and something that will be appreciated by generations a hundred years down the line, even if not quite as much by ours.

When 'nation' is used as an expletive.

2008-09-23T20:08:00.000-07:00

James Cuno's "Who Owns Antiquities?" makes a strong case for "encyclopedic" or "universal" museums, which display the world's heritage in a single place from Ancient Greece to the postmodern world. In other words, he is a cosmopolitan, who considers the utterly "nationalistic" goals of local governments in retaining control over artifacts found on their territory to be ultimately counterproductive and wrong. He would rather see 'man kind' take responsibility for their collective heritage and store it museums conveniently located in major metropolitan centers, so that as many people and as diverse a people as possible could see it.

Shame that it's all a bright shiny fantasy then.

Although using liberally the heavy artillery of nationalism studies - the works of Edward Said and Benedict Anderson, to prove that nationalism is ugly, useless, violent and harmful, he fails to pay enough attention to the fact that despite all that, nationalism matters. Yes, nationalism, in all likelihood is a product of modernity, yes, it is often the source of violent conflicts and the death of both people and heritage, but it is also not, no matter how much Cuno would like it to be, simply both a construct and an ideal of the ruling elite.

Nationalism, patriotism, phrase it however to want, is an idea that appeals to people, the amount of debate and activism around issues of national patrimony should be a testament to that. From the 12 million visitors of the French Patrimony Days to the heated public debate around the Estonian Monument of Liberty, patrimony is something that gets people's heart racing.

"So what?" Cuno would say; Anderson, Said, Hobsbawm et al. still prove that present day nationalism has anything to do with artifacts that are two thousand years old. And he would be right. Nevertheless, museums in the 21st century are not ivory towers, but very much a part of the society they were created in, and a dialogue with nationalism, or patrimony (to use a less hostile term) is something museums cannot ignore, lest they lose the interest, support and reverence of the people. The communities of nations may be imagined, but that does not mean you can simply imagine them away.

Why not look at the other side of the coin? If Encyclopedic museums give us a peek into the global heritage of the entire human kind, then local, national museums provide the opportunity to study, in addition to valuable pieces of cultural heritage, the way people construct national identity. Considering how big a role it plays in the life of contemporary man, it is certainly something worth studying.

And finally: Why is the cosmopolitan community that Cuno imagines that all of human heritage belongs to any less imagined than the national heritage he so despises? Is it not just another classic case of the self vs. the other?

Can't spell freedom without 'huge imposing monument'.

2008-09-21T11:20:00.000-07:00

If the decision of the European Commission to give almost 6 million Euros to a project for cultural exchange is an example of good public funding for the development of cultural heritage, then the decision of the Estonian government to allocate over 100 million kroons (approx. 10 million dollars) to the construction of a phallic monument of liberty at a time of economic recession, is a textbook example of wasting taxpayer's money on a very questionable definition of patrimony.

The Monument of Liberty is an old idea, dating back to the 1920-s and is supposed to commemorate the Estonian victory in the War of Independence (1918-1919). In principle this would fit well into the framework of cultural heritage if not for the inadequate execution of the plan over the past year.

First, instead of being a bottom-up project, guaranteeing it popular support and unifying the people, which any piece of cultural heritage should ostensibly aspire to, the monument was commissioned by the Estonian Government, the final design approved by a jury with a majority of politicians and seen through with remarkable persistence, despite protests from the international community (the cross on top of the monument resembles a German Iron Cross), the Estonian artistic community (who have declared it "literal" and "naive"), the fact that it's being built on a nature protection area, that the chairman leading the construction is facing corruption charges, the monument will not be completed in time, and so on.

The result is, that according to a recent poll, over 40% of the country's population opposes the construction of the monument. Instead of a unifying piece of cultural heritage, the statue has become a symbol of division.

The difference in conduct between the Commission case and this one could not be more obvious. If the Commission's allocation of nearly 6 million Euros meant giving funding to a bottom-up initiative, with minimal governmental input, except for financial oversight (a necessity in any sort public spending), the Monument of Liberty project is very clearly a political project first, with all of the major decisions being made on the highest level, with almost complete disregard for the opinions of interest groups and the general populace. Of course, politicizing cultural heritage is nothing new, in fact, it is quite common in non-democratic governments who recognize well the influence patrimony can have over people. From the appropriation of monumental architecture by the likes of Albert Speer and Marcello Piacentini to the ridiculous fantasy projects of the Soviet Union, grand structures designed to unite the people under a "cultural heritage" umbrella are both common and almost exclusively unsuccessful.

There is little hope for Estonia - in all likelyhood, the freedom-touting phallus will grace the mounds of Harju hill next year, but hopefully a lesson about the public funding of cultural heritage objects will be learned from this - a liberal approach to public funding will result in better art and actual cultural heritage.

Talking pot-shards for some...

2008-09-18T12:10:00.001-07:00

"A dialogue between cultures" is a term that gets tossed around a lot, be it in the Museums, Policy and Cultural Heritage class or my two previous blog posts. The Versailles and the National Gallery are trying to establish a dialogue between ancient and contemporary culture through exhibitions that put contemporary art in a space surrounded (and usually reserved for) traditional, it's-cool-because-it's-old type art.

Another project tackles the same issue at a much wider scale: The European Comission allocated 5.3 million Euros (that's roughly 8 million dollars) over the course of five years to "Prospero", a project of cultural exchange under which six (or possibly eight) theatres throughout Europe will circulate actors, directors and plays to increase cultural diversity and spread heritage throughout the continent. They will also organize colloquia, lecture series and other educational events. This seems to be "a dialogue between cultures" at it's purest.

Many of the questions that apply for cultural dialogue on a temporal scale can be asked about the same on a spatial scale. Who chooses the "heritage" that is shared? Who is the audience? And why on earth should taxpayers all over the continent support this effort with many millions of Euros?

If anything, then this undertaking shows how public funding can be used in a meaningful way to support cultural diversity. The project was initiated by the National Theatre of Bretagne and developed in conjunction with five other theatres, with two more prospectives hoping to join. The bottom-up approach ensures a relatively apolitical approach to the concept of cultural heritage, whereas federal funding reduces the dependence on commercial interests and increases the artistic liberties the authors can afford to take. Both of these elements contribute to the "authenticity" of the cultural heritage that is passed on to different cultures.

Another issue that was brought up in class today, is how much of the cultural output is shaped by the institutions dedicated to preserving that culture, in other words: the exhibitions in the museums are ultimately created by the curators, not by the people. It is far too easy to get stuck in the usual lines of elite theories and Hobsbawmian "invented traditions", according to which a lot of our customs and heritage is created by the ruling elite for the protection of its power. However, audiatur et altera pars - let's hear the other side! Institutionalizing culture is nothing new, even in non-tangible culture there has always been a sense of centralization - ever since Homer there have been people whose job is to pass on the wisdom of the ancestors, always leaving a personal mark on the heritage in the process. The idea that culture can be passed on objectively quite simply contradicts the very idea of culture. As long as we recognize that institutional bias that any exhibition, collection and museum will always have and remain critical and willing to debate about it, everything is in order.

The short conclusion to this wordy point would be: We should not worry too much about the dangers that government funding and institutional initiative poses to cultural heritage, and rather celebrate the fact that they even exist. Ideally, cultural institutions and public oversight are more likely (and sometimes legally bound) to recognize the threats that impartial representation poses to cultural heritage than others agents (for instance for-profit companies or private collectors). So hurray for the European Commission funding of this exciting initiative and I look forward to visiting Tampere in 2010 to see what the theatres have come up with.

National Gallery enters the 20th century

2008-09-17T19:31:00.000-07:00

The Versailles' controversy relates to a larger debate, exemplified in the Harold Skramstad article "An Agenda for Museums in the 21-st Century". He outlines, that the contemporary museum "needs to take as its mission nothing less than to engage actively in the design and delivery of experiences that have the power to inspire and change the way people see the world and the possibility of their own lives," and in focus on three values: Authority, connectedness and trustworthiness.

Granted, Skramstad talks primarily about the American museum, but there is no reason why this model could not be applied to European museums as well. However, this transition is not as straightforward as it first appears, as the three terms Skramstad mentions are elusive even to the simplest of minds, so it is not surprising that the definitions of curators and of the public may diverge quite a bit.

In Versailles' case, one could argue that Koons' exhibitions serves as a medium to bring the otherwise distant 18th century closer to the 21st century audience, by creating a dialogue between the contemporary and the baroque. The educational value of the exhibit is also clearly evident. On the other hand, the exhibition may erode the authority and trustworthiness the palace has within the French public, that has been accumulated in part due to exactly the conservativeness and authentic (if such a word can ever be used, then it certainly applies to the Versailles) preservation of 18th century art and architecture. The question here is: where should one draw the line and stop the modernizing? Is there something the Versailles can offer by putting on more interactive and educational exhibitions that would outweigh the potential loss of authority when people start feeling that the museum is 'going commercial'

Another similar dilemma is facing London's National Gallery, where an exhibition detailing sex trade in Amsterdam is going to be installed in the near future. The leaders of the museum are claiming that the contract with Tate Modern, according to which the Gallery's permanent collection would end at 1900 may be "renegotiated".

Once again, the museum director's arguments are well motivated: many topics in the distant past relate to hot issues in contemporary society and it would be a shame to leave those connections unexplored due to an arbitrary limitation in museum policy. But once again, as the article's confrontative title reveals, not all are happy with this change of direction that has the potential to erode decades worth of reputation and authority that the National Gallery has accumulated by focusing on pre-1900 art. If in the case of American museums, these questions are often bounded by economics - if the current public does not come along with this change of direction, is there an alternative audience large enough to support it? - then in the case of publicly funded museums such as the National Gallery or the Versailles the people, be they in the majority or not, have the right to ask: on what grounds are such decisions made? Will this draw attention away from the old collections?

On the other hand, museums with well-established conservative authority are often among the best museums in the world and if they always rejected innovation on the grounds of preserving their image, either very little would ever get done in the art world, or their places would be taken by institutions more willing to modernize. For that reason, I applaud the courage of the Versailles and the National Gallery to step outside their recognized boundaries and try something new.

Palace of the Sun King, now with giant lobsters

2008-09-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

A storm in a teapot for some, a sign of progress and institutional recognition of contemporary art for other, a controversial decision for all, the French public is debating the value of Jeff Koons’ new exhibition, held in a small township on the outskirts of Paris that goes by the name of Versailles and is perhaps better known for being home to the lavish display of absolute monarchy in the form of the eponymous palace.

Until late December, the gigantic structure displays not only the fabulous architecture of Louis le Vau and Jules Hardouin-Mansart, the murals of Charles LeBrun and the legacy of the Sun King, but also a selection of kitsch sculptures by the contemporary American artist Jeff Koons. Featuring timeless classics such as a metallic balloon dog and a gigantic lobster, the exhibition has stirred up controversy in both French and international media with some calling the exhibition a successful mix of contemporary and classic art, others blaming it for ruining the “single most important piece of French national patrimony”.

This latter statement of course raises a far more universal question. Museums in the United States are mostly buildings constructed for that very purpose, even if often in the style of the palaces of old Europe (as in the case of the Met or the PMA). Museums in Europe are very often themselves an integral part of cultural heritage – the Louvre in Paris, the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, the Palace of Kadriorg in Tallinn - all are important landmarks in the cultural history of their respective countries in addition to being repositories of classic art. And if cultural heritage should be preserved as much within the context of the time and the society to which it belongs, then their use as museums of art from Polykleitos to Pollock is certainly a topic worthy of discussion.

There is no doubt that the image of such "museums with a history" has changed significantly over time. Most consider the Louvre an art museum first and the historical residence of French kings until Louis XIV second, if at all. However, this may not be a bad thing - the history of the palace has certainly been well recorded within the museum's exposition and the Louvre's prestige as the world's foremost art museum has, if anything, then added to the value of this particular piece of French patrimony.

The Versailles' is a somewhat different case, as the focus there has always been on the palace itself. In fact, Koons' exhibition is the second temporary exhibition to be held at the Versailles, the first being an overview of 18th century furniture - not quite the contrast a giant lobster in the Sun King's bedroom creates. For many Koons' exhibition represents not only a significant distraction in the display of true French Patrimony, but also a significant step towards a more liberal and perhaps more careless attitude towards cultural heritage.

In my mind, the conservative view is both an oversimplification of the issue as well as an underestimation of the average museum-goers' intelligence. Heritage sites, such as the Versailles need not only to preserve the national patrimony, but also present it to the general public. Along with that come the necessities of promotion and fund-raising, in other words, museums need to interact with contemporary society as much as they have to preserve the past. Koons' exhibition certainly has brought the Versailles' back to the front-pages of national newspapers, will probably generate significant revenue and most importantly, as Jean Clair, a member of the French academy very thoughtfully points out, creates a discussion about the values held in the post-modern society through the very fact of being displayed in the Versailles. Koons does not detract from appreciating the patrimony gathered in the Versailles, quite the opposite, he adds to it, by constructing a dialogue between the the society of Sun King and our own.

Walking out for free

2008-09-10T12:14:00.000-07:00

In January 2008, the French president Nicholas Sarkozy, known for his love of culture, if only by the fact that he married a gorgeous fashion-model cum singer, started a nation-wide experiment in which 18 museums in France offered free admission for 6 months and others, including the Louvre offered it to visitors under 26 once a week.

As a tourist, a francophile and an art lover, I could but rejoice at the philanthropic effort of the French president, which reportedly cost somewhere between 150 and 200 million Euros. The French, in a feat of historical consistency, were more skeptical.

While the advocates of the free admission pointed out similar practices in Britain, others feared that instead of diversifying the body of museum visitors – clearly the goal of the experiment – free admission would only benefit tourists, travel companies and regular museum visitors, without actually adding anything to the mix.

When the experiment concluded three months ago, the final tally was on the skeptics side: The number of visitors went up by 53%, including a whopping 153% in the palace of Jacques-Coeur in Bourges, but the increase was almost entirely on the account of regular visitors.

Demographics aside, an additional consideration that the articles do not note, is the changed experience one has in a museum that is visited by 153% more people than before. Granted, if the visitor number is low to begin with, the doubling that will not make the halls crowded nor the air unbreathable. However, museums like the Louvre, the Hermitage or the MoMA, already packed even with double-digit entry fees, feel like WalMart on a Monday evening when they have their free nights. In their case, entry fees help to filter out the interested tourists and the art-lovers from random wanderers.

Also note, that the loss in revenues for museums and higher government spending means that museums get to spend less on improving their collections and acquiring new items. Which is the priority then?

I’m not making a case here against free admission, this New York Times article presents pretty well how big a problem over commercialisation poses to the cultural heritage world. Furthermore, the British report that their decision to go free on most of their major museums has been met with great success. The French, on the other hand, have demonstrated that every experiment needs not only a hypothesis but also intensive research, without that, free admission may remain just another populist political gimmick.