“It disgusted me even to move,” wrote an artist to his younger brother, “and nothing would have been so agreeable to me as never wake up again.” The year was 1889; the place, the Saint-Paul Asylum in Paris; the artist, Vincent van Gogh. We’re accustomed …
It may already be February, but in my opinion it’s never too late to set New Years’ Resolutions, and one of mine—maybe not surprisingly—is to visit more museums! With museums increasingly reopening after the pandemic restrictions of the past two years, there has never been …
I’ve recently fallen in love with the New York Time’s Close Read series, a digital exploration of a select number of works that serves as a fantastic introduction to interpretation and, well, close reading. The format itself is very user friendly and as someone who has little professional training in the arts, the information feels comfortable and approachable, not at all didactic or overly wordy. As I’ve been parsing through this series, I came across one that has been sitting in my mind all weekend.
In Memory of My Feelings – Frank O’Hara (1961)
“How a Gray Painting Can Break Your Heart” by Jason Farago is an in-depth exploration of Jasper Johns’s “In Memory of My Feelings – Frank O’Hara.” My immediate impression of the piece was underwhelming and frankly, I thought it was another abstract piece of art that would be far out of reach for me. “In Memory of My Feelings” is a gray painting; it is literally 99% gray and even the physical attachments of wire and spoon and fork are all gray. So, to me, not only was this piece at first glance dull, but it was also rather depressing. However, Farago explores this color and its meaning within the piece beautifully using Close Read‘s digital format. Farago’s narration is accompanied by a smooth transition between zoomed-in shots of specific pieces of the work and larger holistic views of the entire canvas.
This easy access is important for both visitors and educators who may not be entirely familiar with Jasper Johns and his gestural paintings. Not only do we get Farago’s interpretation of what these specific aspects of the piece mean, but we also get a refined look at the piece as a whole; we can pick up on subtle nuances in the gray that our untrained eyes may have otherwise missed. For me, I didn’t even pick up on the presence of any words on the canvas, but Farago highlights the importance of the raised “A DEAD MAN” lettering (and even goes so far as to give reference points for those like me who still struggled to find the phrase in the gray).
“In Memory of My Feelings” is a difficult piece; it is heavy, it is grieving, and it is at times frustratingly vague. As educators, we are often faced with these difficult works and the even more difficult conversations that accompany them. Farago’s method of interpretation here can be a useful tool for educators looking for a way to facilitate these conversations because he allows the viewers and readers to digest the piece at their own rate while considering their own thoughts and feelings. He constantly comes back to the thematic color gray as a grounding piece that we can latch onto and expands each interpretation of an idea from this color gray. I am fascinated by this method for talking about grief, utilizing something as universal as color to connect audiences to a concept that is uncomfortable, yet well-known today. And I feel that there is even more to be learned from Farago’s use of the New York Time’s Close Read format; it is an excellent way of getting viewers up close and personal with these important colors and ideas on canvas, especially in an age where being up close and personal is not always possible.
You can experience Farago’s interpretation of “In Memory of My Feelings” here and visit the Close Read series here.
In what little spare time I have as a graduate student here at Tufts, I love reading plays. I’ve been hooked on this particular art form since I was ten years old, when my mom — an English major at the same university where I …
The United States boasts lots of historic house museums with at least a few in nearly every state, and one of the first-established historic house museums is right here in Boston: the Paul Revere House, opened to the public in 1908. From its construction around …
Thinking about the future of museums is a large, daunting task. Where will museums stand in culture, in communities, in education? Even now, we already see museum culture shifting in both purpose and attitude. Instead of placing emphasis and value solely on collections, museums have started to value the community connection they foster with their neighbors, the opportunity to bring people together into a common, though not neutral, space. Through this, we have even seen museums facilitate difficult conservations regarding race, immigration, healthcare, and other polarizing topics. And though this change is ultimately for the better, there is still a lingering question of whether museums can sustain themselves in this space between discussion and action.
The Smithsonian Arts + Industries Building recently reopened after being closed for nearly two decades, and its current exhibit tackles that very question of how museums can move between discussion and action. FUTURES is a building-wide exhibit that asks visitors to consider what their futures look like – Have humans started to colonize other planets? Is healthcare more streamlined and accessible? Does agriculture become more efficient with groundbreaking technology? FUTURES gives visitors an opportunity to explore all of these possibilities through real innovations being developed today.
Smithsonian Arts + Industries Building, FUTURES
During my visit to the Arts + Industries Building, I was constantly asked and prompted to consider how these technologies would affect my own future and how museums facilitated the development of some of these inventions. At first, like many others, I was confused by the latter part of the question. How could museums have affected the invention of something like the Bell Nexus, a self-driving hybrid-electric air taxi? Watching visitor reaction to innovations like this made the answer clear: museums inspire visitors to create innovations like these. The beauty of FUTURES is that you can trace nearly all of the inventions on display from concept all the way to development and that concept often starts with a question or a problem. FUTURES is a celebration of people asking questions and exploring their creativity; it is a reminder of the importance of exposing ourselves to bigger things around us.
The Bell Nexus air taxi
FUTURES is an opportunity for visitors to think more holistically about the futures of our communities; it is also an opportunity for museums to consider how they can foster this curiosity in visitors and encourage exploration and innovation.
Smithsonian Arts + Industries Building, FUTURES
To learn more about FUTURES and the Smithsonian Arts + Industries Building, visit their website here.