Robert Indiana (American, b. 1928), Numbers, 1980-1983, painted aluminum, 8x8x4 ft. (each), Gift of Melvin Simon and Associates, 1988.246. (c) 2013 Morgan Art Foundation / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

I asked Richard McCoy, conservator of objects and variable art, about the exhibition.

Curators traditionally take the lead on creating IMA exhibitions, but you—an art conservator—have organized this one. Given your role at the IMA, are you presenting a different perspective?

Conservators approach artworks from a material or technical perspective, in comparison to curators and art historians, who generally prize the meaning and context of artworks within the currents and history of art. Plus, I’m very interested in Indianapolis’s history; so, yeah, I think the perspective will ultimately be a little different.

My goal is to mix the worlds of meaning, context, and materials in telling the story of Robert Indiana’s Numbers and their history in Indianapolis. Many may not know that in 2011 these sculptures underwent a complete restoration, in which each of the ten sculptures was repainted in order to look similar to how they were originally fabricated between 1980 and 1983. I’m really excited to show off some of the work we do in the conservation department and highlight the way we take care of the artworks that are gifted to us. And, for the first time, we’ll be telling the history of how Melvin Simon & Associates commissioned Indiana to make these sculptures, a project the artist considered his most important to date at the time of their creation.

What’s your favorite artwork in the exhibition?

Well, it’s a given that the Numbers are fantastic—they’re bright, colorful, really big, and many visitors to the IMA have had their pictures taken with them over the years—but I’m not going to choose them; that would be too easy! I’m going to say that my favorite work is a charcoal drawing by Robert Indiana that for many years has hung outside of Herb Simon’s office in Indianapolis. This is a drawing that Indiana did in preparation for the project so that he could see how the numbers might look when finished and displayed together.

As far as I know it hasn’t ever been seen by anyone outside of Simon Property Group, so I’m really thrilled that they have offered to lend the piece to the IMA for this exhibition. It’s a rare opportunity to look into Indiana’s artistic process.

For the next several weeks, the IMA will be placing Post-Its all over the city. The Post-Its ask a simple (sort of) question: Who is Ai Weiwei? And if you don’t know, you should.

Image courtesy Lindsey Lord

An activist and an artist, Ai Weiwei is known for his criticism of Chinese politics. His ideas are revolutionary (and have resulted in several arrests, a brain hemorrhage from a police beating, and an award-winning documentary about his life).

Clearly, the man is fascinating. And his works are coming to the IMA. So help us spread the word. Pick up some Post-Its at this month’s Final Fridays event. Post them anywhere—a bulletin board at work, on the mirror in the restroom at the movie theater—wherever. While you’re at it, keep looking for the Post-Its already hung around the city.

And if for no other reason, find a Post-It to impress your friends with your worldly knowledge of Ai Weiwei.

Join in the online discussion. Snap pictures of the Post-Its and post to Instagram or Twitter using #WhoisAiWeiwei.

The artwork in Graphite that really got me was Staumauer by Michaela Früwirth. The piece was seemingly larger than any other piece. I was immediately drawn to it because honestly, I did not understand why someone would create such a large and seemingly “blank” piece of art. As an educator, graphite is largely confined to pencils, number 2 pencils to be exact. These pencils, while they are instruments we use to write and express ourselves in other written formats, have come to symbolize testing to me; typically of the standardized variety. Usually, you have to have a number 2 pencil sharpened and ready for the completion of your standardized test. Technology has taken us into a digital era, however most tests are still conducted with the use of pencil and paper in some aspect. Seeing that large graphite filled piece of art in a room of many other artworks that rely on graphite made me think, “We are so wrong about how graphite can be used in schools.”

Michaela Fruwirth, “Staumauer,” 2007. Courtesy the artist.

The beauty of the expressive art in the Graphite exhibit took me to a place in my mind that I had never explored. The art made me think about what possibilities exist for us as we use graphite. Not just graphite, but other natural resources, as well. How should we use these resources? Should they embody misguided assessment or expressive art?

My performance was fueled by my trip to that new space in my own mind. It kind of turned into a rambling piece, but I just let it flow. Recently, I began personal study of the concept of “Flow” as outlined by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. I always want to give a performance that is authentic and representative of my true feelings and thoughts, which is realized by finding “Flow.” Learning to let performance flow is an ongoing pursuit, but it creates performances that resonate within me and hopefully within the audience.

I am deeply concerned about the direction of public education in our country. We, now more than ever, need to step back and ask ourselves, our neighbors, and our policy makers what education truly should be. It cannot be confined to assessment and rigid standards-based learning that is supported by profiteers and non-educators. Education must include room for exploration and creativity in the use of our resources. The Graphite exhibition and the piece Staumauer took me to a space I really needed to explore. I am confident that my experience and performance will continue to have an effect on what I believe can be done, which helps me focus my work in my circle of influence. Never before had I seen such artistic and impressive art revolving around a single element, but it is inspiring and makes me want to create more art of my own. It was such a wonderful blessing to be included in the opening festivities and I hope to be able to be included in many more.

When you look at a photograph in the IMA galleries, do you ever notice the mounts? Maybe not consciously, but your viewing experience is significantly nuanced by the manner of presentation. This is why a great deal of effort and expense goes into preparing photographs for display on our walls. Photographs in the IMA’s collection are usually presented to the public mounted in mats and framed on the wall behind Plexiglas glazing. This is the same way that works on paper, such as prints and drawings, are displayed and this tradition, with some variation, has a history going back several hundred years. Mats serve to both physically support and visually augment the photograph by surrounding it with a serene expanse of paperboard that will focus your attention properly on the power of the photograph held in the center. A frame surrounds the mat and a front pane of glazing, such as glass or acrylic sheeting, offers formidable protection against a variety of ills, including rapid changes in temperature and humidity, air-borne pollutants, and fingerprints deposited by curious visitors. The very large, contemporary photographs are usually not matted, but set directly into frames that are equipped with “spacers” – strips of mat board, or small squared sections of  plastic or painted wood that hold the photograph a respectable distance away from the glazing. It is worrisome when a large photograph sags forward within its frame to touch the glazing; the emulsion (or media surface) could eventually conform to the rigid, textureless material, resulting in an altered sheen in the contact area. Or worse, the photograph could adhere to the glazing, and disengaging the two always carries a high risk of wounding the image surface. But the newest generation of contemporary photographs often dispense with frames altogether – they seem to float on the wall like magic windows into other worlds. These photographs are hovering courtesy of a relatively new presentation system called “face-mounting.”

Face-mounting permanently marries the photograph to the glazing with an interface of synthetic adhesive. Usually, a rigid backing material is similarly adhered to the verso of the photograph, creating a unified package that encases the work completely, supplying strength, support, and unfettered edges. There are visual advantages to this system that are very appealing to artists. With face-mounting, the colors of the photograph appear saturated and lush, and the images are appreciated by viewers as “crystal clear.” As air between a photograph and the glazing has been eliminated, there are no issues of multiple light-reflecting surfaces that can confuse the clear perception of the image. The absence of air can also be considered chemically beneficial to a photograph, both in relation to traditional gelatin emulsions with their cyan, yellow, and magenta dyes and the pigments and dyes deposited in digital printing. The oxygen component of the air has a destabilizing effect on organic molecules, and this includes cellulose (paper) proteins (gelatin) and some classes of colorants. In addition, humid air will cause the damaging reactions to proceed at an accelerated rate. Finally, face-mounted photographs are prevented from distorting, tearing, or suffering from casual accidents that would ordinarily mar its surface; it will never be directly handled again.

Face-Mounted photograph “Yellow Hallway” by James Casebere, 2001 (IMA2003.78). This is one of the earliest face-mounted photographs to enter the IMA collection. It has been shown in our galleries with some regularity, and it remains in excellent condition.

With these virtues in mind, it seems that the conservation community should welcome face-mounting with open arms. However, conservators are a cautious folk, and they never fully trust innovations that have not been observed and judged over significant periods of time. Their first concern is the obvious drawback of having a glazing material that cannot be removed. If the acrylic sheeting becomes scratched or clouded, it cannot simply be replaced – these problems become a permanent part of the artwork, compromising the prized aesthetic qualities expected from face-mounted images. The “protective” nature of glazing the front of the artwork is tempered by the fact that it is now also the aspect of highest vulnerability and it must be zealously protected from harm.

Secondly, there are many questions about the long-term aging behavior of face-mounted photographs that currently have no reliably researched answers within the conservation community:

• How will the adhesives age in response to light and heat?
• Will these adhesives eventually fail?
• Will the different adhesives developed for face-mounting vary in their interactions with the aging images themselves?
• How will all of the components that are in in close, inescapable contact (the acrylic sheet, adhesive, image media, paper [or other material] substrate, and various rigid backing materials) interact with each other over time?
• Will close contact diminish or magnify the effects of damage-inducing catalysts, such as light and heat?
• Does the drying time allowed for a printed image (an hour, a day, a week, a year) before it is face-mounted affect the overall stability of the package?
• Based on aging characteristics, which digital processes are the most or least compatible with the face-mounting adhesives?
• What are the future ramifications of this process for images made with older, less stable digital technologies that collectors decide to have face-mounted?

It could be that the answers to most of these questions would turn out to be encouraging. But the state of not knowing is uncomfortable for conservators. Fortunately, the IMA has received a generous grant from the Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) to fund a detailed condition survey of the state of preservation of all of its photographs, including a significant number of large sized, face-mounted contemporary works. Contracted Photograph Conservator Paul Messier is charged with conducting this survey, and he will also work with IMA scientist Greg D. Smith to launch a microfadeometry study of our Contemporary photograph collection. This analytical technique will help us to understand the fading propensities of digitally printed media in reaction to light, and we will have the opportunity to compare the results for traditionally framed photographs to the data for face-mounted photographs. The testing protocols will be somewhat challenged for the face-mounts, as readings must be taken through the acrylic glass and adhesive layer, but it is expected that this exploration will be a much needed first step in the conservator’s quest to understand the properties and potentials of face-mounted works of art.

The exhibition Graphite, opening tonight at the IMA, explores the vast artistic potential of a material most often associated with more traditional approaches to drawing.  Its flexibility  - whether it’s powder, liquid, machined, carved, or pencil – is mirrored in each artist’s unique approach to the material in their work. Below are quotes from a selection of the artists in the exhibition that highlight this range in perspective:

“What I like most about graphite, in the way I use it, is its ability to transform the surface or object to which you’re applying or transferring it.” – Dan Shaw-Town

“And drawing, especially with graphite, is one of the few things that you can control yourself. You can do what you want. And so it was a way of making this world that is comfortable for me.”  - Kim Jones

“I want to be drawing these images because I love them more than any other imagery.” – Dan Fischer

“Graphite is material that in both industrial usage and culture holds and neutralizes energy. When I was asked to be in the exhibition, I was really interested in this kind of alternate, inert quality of the material. So rather than thinking about it as a traditional artistic tool, I started to think about it conceptually and was taken by this idea of pulling in and holding energy—in this case, a kind of societal, psychic energy.” – Geof Oppenheimer (Come hear more from Geof tomorrow at noon during a lunchtime lecture in the galleries).

“I find there’s an exacting capacity to the point of the graphite pencil that, when fully attended to, reveals the inevitable limits of precision and control of the hand.” – Judith Braun

“I think what I’m doing is observational drawing. I’m just not drawing the objects that people typically think of as the things an artist draws from observation.” - Molly Springfield

“The conductivity of graphite has been central to developing the possibilities for the relationship between form, function, and materiality that characterizes these drawings.” – Joyce Hinterding

“I think I chose drawing because I was interested in that basic human connection. I drew as a child, sure, but I consciously chose drawing as an adult artist. There was a break in there where I came to recognize drawing as its own entity.” – Karl Haendel

“Every one of those drawings is the result of a different gesture or technique. They all come together because they share the same medium, same format, same paper.” – Roland Flexner

“What’s interesting about the technique I use with the graphite is the similarity there is to processing a photograph in the darkroom, where the light and dark values can be manipulated by the exposure time.” – T.R. Ericsson

An accompanying digital catalogue will launch this January and will feature a wealth of in-depth material about their work and use of graphite, including interviews with the artists, videos of their installations, a scientific analysis of the material, and much (much) more.

Vito Acconci, “Round Trip (A Space to Fall Back On),” 1975. materials stools, boxes, audio tape. Gift of the Alliance of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. 1989.35.

The installation Round Trip (A Space to Fall Back On) echoes a space found within a traditional home, but quickly distorts your feeling of domestic comfort.  A viewer sitting on the stool in the center is disoriented by the placement of objects and a blinding light — a woozy effect that might not be too far from our post-meal haze on Thanksgiving.  Noises, such as the artist’s voice and knocking, move throughout the space, competing for the visitor’s attention and adding to the general sense of unbalance.  Sounds a bit like the cacophony and confusion of a big family gathering, doesn’t it?  Acconci plunges the visitor into the experience, controlling his or her sense of space by “inserting unexpected color, sensory experiences, and laws of physics into the gallery.”  Now if that doesn’t sum up Thanksgiving, I don’t know what does.  Here’s wishing you a day of blissful disorientation and the cacophonous sounds of family and friends.

Several months and ideas later, I decided to create a sculpture and drawing in performance that would leave a tactile and visual record of its own making.

To create the sculpture, we used the audience and the surrounding trees as our loom. We wended our way over, under, and around them as our white hand-knit dresses unraveled into an increasingly large and complex web.

I used chalk, typically used to mark large fields like the meadow for sporting events, to create the drawing.  The idea was to create constellations whose shape would be determined by connecting audience members to one another. Most of the audience took cover in the shade rather than on the perimeter as I had hoped, making the constellation drawings difficult to render.  The parched grass also made the chalk lines nearly invisible.

This performance was a reminder of the medium’s vulnerability. Certain variables can only be worked out in performance, which is both thrilling and terrifying. The unknown is multiplied when the work calls for audience participation. One never knows if people will participate and how. I would like to thank all of the viewers who stood in the blazing sun for an hour to participate, and to Lisa Freiman and everyone at the IMA for this wonderful challenge.

… Traditionally, art museums have been thought of as archaeological storehouses, however artistic the paintings or objects might be, rather than places of inspiration and information for people who are as much interested in the arts of their own time as in those of the past . . . to assume that the only artistic works of men [sic] which are worth displaying in a museum are those produced a century or a millennium ago is not valid, in view of the real function of a museum as an educational and cultural center of a modern community.

The Contemporary Art Society helped build the visionary groundwork for collecting contemporary art beginning in 1962 until 1985, when the IMA formally established its Contemporary Art department. Since then, CAS has worked hand in hand with the IMA to add important acquisitions to the permanent collection. However, because the IMA missed opportunities to buy contemporary art when it was being made in the 1940s-1960s, it has large, critical gaps in the collection. To avoid repeating that history of overlooking key works of art, we are committed to buying affordable works in a timely manner so that our collection can grow in terms of its depth and breadth going forward.

A CAS acquisition highlight. — Tim Hawkinson, “Möbius Ship,” 2006. Contemporary Art Society Fund, Koch Contemporary Art Purchase Fund and Purchased with funds provided by Michelle and Perry Griffith.

For me, there is nothing like seeing an art work for the first time: its immediacy and the way it makes me think about the world afresh. Art is a system of languages with a multitude of dialects, and every art work sparks a new conversation that encourages us to rethink our assumptions about ourselves and the world around us, and to see the complexity and multiplicity of meanings within both. When it’s really compelling, art can teach us to see the beauty in ugliness and the ugliness in beauty.

Art also has the power to coax us into action, and fight injustice, prejudice, or inequality. It might reconnect us to nature while simultaneously asking the question, what is nature, really? Art might offend our egos, but it can also heal our souls. It might confuse us so that we forget the name of the object we see. It can be ironic, humorous, and transcendent, and at times, all three. It might cause us to celebrate a shadow, a moment, or an idea, no matter how audacious or fragile.

To celebrate the 50^th anniversary of the CAS, the Indianapolis Museum of Art is trying to increase CAS membership to 150 members by May 2013. We also hope to raise $50,000 to augment the CAS acquisition fund, which has and continues to be one of the major ways that the IMA can purchase works of art in a timely, strategic, and responsive matter. Please join me in helping to ensure that the IMA can keep building its reputation as one of the most dynamic contemporary art programs in the United States.  Contemporary art can help our community grow and advance today, just as much as it did 50 years ago. Contemporary art can inspire us to dream big and to transform our city.

Herbert and Dorothy Vogel at home in New York City, from “Herb & Dorothy,” a 2009 Arthouse Films Release.

The beloved art collector Herbert Vogel passed away yesterday at 89 years old. Herb and his wife Dorothy amassed an unprecedented collection of contemporary art with their modest incomes in public service. The couple married in 1962, and the five decades they shared were shaped by their passionate pursuit for the acquisition and understanding of the most innovative art of their time.

Herb and Dorothy developed personal connections with artists through frequent studio visits and rigorous conversations. Through these friendships, they were often able to acquire works at significantly discounted prices or on payment plans, sometimes as little as $10 a month. It’s frequently mentioned that Herb and Dorothy collected intuitively, without much thought about how individual pieces would fit into their collection. Over the years, every surface of their one-bedroom Manhattan apartment became a place for displaying art, and when the walls and ceilings were covered, large storage crates displaced their living room furniture.

The Vogels’ bedroom with works by Leo Valledor, Gary Stephan, Richard Tuttle, Robert Mangold, Alan Saret, Ron Gorchov, Joseph Kosuth, Vito Acconci, Joseph Beuys, and Peter Hutchinson, among others, c. 1975. Photographer unknown.

As they aged, Herb and Dorothy began to think about the future of their unique collection, and the pair entered into a partnership with the National Gallery of Art. Due the astounding size of their collection, which had grown to include roughly 4000 works, the National Gallery of Art launched the program “Fifty Works for Fifty States,” which dispersed 2500 artworks to public collections across the country. One museum in each state was chosen by Herb and Dorothy to receive 50 carefully selected works that accentuated the permanent collection of the institution. The IMA was honored to accept these gifts—including works by Lynda Benglis, Robert Mangold, Edda Renouf, and Richard Tuttle—which were displayed in the 2008 exhibition titled Collected Thoughts.

Many in Indianapolis had the pleasure of getting to know Herb. Works from their collection were featured in the 1993 exhibition The Poetry of Form: Richard Tuttle Drawings from the Vogel Collection, and in 2003 the couple participated in a public conversation with former IMA director Bret Waller. I was fortunate to meet Herb and Dorothy when they attended the opening of Collected Thoughts.  As a junior in college and a new intern at the IMA, I found their quiet dedication deeply inspiring, especially at a time when I was grappling with the practicalities of an uncertain future in the arts during a recession. My conversation with the Vogels was incredibly brief (I was one in a long line of people waiting to meet them), and I didn’t mention my trepidation; but I wonder if Herb sensed it, because he urged me to stay the course and reminded me that contemporary art could always use another champion.

1. Not talking
2. Taking food from strangers
3. Throwing an imaginary ball
4. Wearing a beaver suit

However, if you choose not to track down the artist during your day visit, then we have something else you might be interested in. A. Bitterman is opening up his igloo to guests in the evenings for movie showings. Reservations can be made online and it’s free…in the monetary sense of the word. All he asks is that you bring him dinner or dessert in exchange for the ultimate cinematic experience of a lifetime. I say this with great gusto because just last evening I made brownies for Bitterman and enjoyed the ultimate cinematic experience of a lifetime for myself…

Slowly raise your right hand, palm facing outward. Wait for artist to mimic gesture with corresponding hand. Raise left hand, palm facing outward. Wait for artist to mimic gesture with corresponding hand. Once both pairs of hands are in proper position, slowly lower both hands so as to make a circle. Take one step backward, clap once. “You have now greeted the artist and may attempt another exchange.”

The journey begins…

From the mainland, A. Bitterman rowed myself and three others across the Sea of Debt, just between The Straits of Consumption and The Meta-Narrows, barely missing The Bay of Deconstruction. Oh, it was a perilous voyage. Luckily, the island was in sight and our rower was top notch.

Our perilous voyage in progress.

 With all perils avoided, and safely docked on the island, we were “gestured” to wait outside as he attended to business inside. After a minute of shuffling our feet, the door was flamboyantly flung open. Bitterman had metamorphosed into a man in a beaver suit, and a talking one at that! After our initial awe wore off we were invited inside and offered a cold beverage. Settled in, with drink and brownie in hand, Bitterman’s specially selected movie began.

The ultimate cinematic experience.

 The movie was projected onto the interior of the igloo, essentially creating an iMAX, the re-mixed and slightly smaller version, of course. We laughed, made comments, sat in contemplative silence, ate brownies…life was good in the igloo:

Four Interns on an Island: Katie Roth, Jean Osberger, myself, & Cy Bennett. Living the good life.

However, my favorite part of the evening occurred after the movie showing, when all five of us made our way outside to the bench encircling the small deck of the island. There we watched the sun set over 100 Acres and talked about anything that came to mind. The night ended with Bitterman rowing us back across the Sea of Debt, just between The Straits of Consumption and The Meta-Narrows, barely missing The Bay of Deconstruction. We said our good-byes and reveled in the happy time we had just shared. A. Bitterman, we found out, is one cool cat with some great things to say.

I invite you to meet the man in the beaver suit. Reserve a movie time with A. Bitterman or just visit his fantastic blog. You will be in for a wonderfully refreshing and, perhaps, slightly peculiar evening.