Final Essay

There are certain stereotypes that we see when looking at universities in America. The quad, filled with students walking between classes. Greek Row, where there’s always a party. A cafeteria or two. A front gate, proclaiming the school’s name in large fancy serif fonts. Walls that enclose the campus, creating a secluded little world that nothing can harm. At Columbia College Chicago, none of these things exist. We don’t have a campus, we make Chicago into our campus. And consequently, the work that comes out of this art school is different than anything else you would see at a traditional university. Around here, we live and breathe the city of Chicago as if we have climbed on its back and are holding on for the ride. In Columbia’s college-wide Mission Statement, one of the purposes of the college is to “conduct eduction in close relationship to a vital urban reality”. Because we are a part of the city, we see differently, and therefore the art that we produce is unique to this school.
At Columbia, we are given many opportunities to show off our work in all sorts of mediums. Instead of narrowing your focus down to one department or major, Columbia somehow gives us the curriculum to look at multiple aspects of our majors, therefore giving us a broader scope of the “real world”. Many of these mediums are showcased in art galleries. In an art exhibition at Columbia, you can see anything from a painting to a looped video on a television screen, to the background music while you’re wandering around a gallery. Since we can experience all of these mediums in one place, we can connect to all different majors and give us a more comprehensive look at the world around us.
Dwelling was a art exhibition located in Columbia’s C33 gallery, and showcased work by Columbia students. It was a new look into the ways that we process different aspects of space, memory, and home. The show looks to play on the places that we seek refuge in, both physically and mentally. It looks at the places that we dwell in the most, and forces you to put yourself inside of the artwork to invoke different emotions. Thirteen artists have put their work together to show the sequence of emotions going through the interior and exterior of the places in which we dwell, and also uses the relationships between people and places to draw the audience in.
The show begins in the exterior sections, and takes a look at the material concepts of home and the space around the home. One of the most noticeable pieces is “Escape” by Heather Boaz. It features a window frame, with a long chain of bed sheets knotted together hanging from it. The title of the work allows the audience to create their own narrative for the piece, but with all the same feeling of needing to escape their dwellings. The other piece that Boaz shows in the collection is one of the most simple, but also one of the most striking. “Defense” shows a doorknob being held back by a wooden chair. While the piece is simplistic, it conjures a different image and narrative to everyone who looks at it; a definite feat for something so minimal.
Just about all of the pieces in Dwelling lack the image of a person in the artwork. This gives the audience plenty of opportunities to fit themselves into the scenarios and works presented. “Memory Archive” by Anna Katherine Peters is a perfect example of this. The wall of Polaroid photographs focuses on specific places in and around a home, with never a human in sight. The spectator is about to fit themselves into the pictures perfectly, without being overwhelmed with senses. Many objects appear in the photographs, but all with a specific purpose; to let the viewer conjure up their own assumptions and memories of the space, even if they’re not familiar with the atmosphere.
Dwelling feels quite emotional when you walk in. The lighting is dim, and the placards are somewhat hard to read because of it. You have to get up close and personal with the pieces in order to completely understand some of them. One video even had headphones, which let you fully experience the sound of a suburban neighborhood, a definite dwelling for most who look at it. The overwhelming feeling of Dwelling left me quite nostalgic for my life before coming to Chicago. I think that’s part of what the artists were trying to invoke in the viewer. This nostalgia away from the busy city streets outside, and back to their childhoods and back to the spaces that they used to dwell in. If the exhibition was in a different town, say at a local art gallery or community college, you would have a completely different experience. Because you can hear the busy streets outside and see the students walking down the hall, Dwelling transports you to a different place, and therefore takes on a new meaning.
Some of the work found at Columbia isn’t by Columbia students at all. Instead, the college has provided us with professionals to watch and learn from. In most fields of study, it helps to look to others for us to understand why things work and why others don’t. Talking with authors, for instance, can be helpful to writers who struggle with plot or dialogue. Or we can be shown a dance company to influence people into different styles that they may not understand.
I’m not going to pretend I understand dance. While watching the different ways that the body can move is entertaining enough, I have no idea what they’re trying to do unless it’s fully written out for me. So while watching “Water Stains on the Wall” performed by the Cloud Gate Dance Theater of Taiwan, I was confused, but ultimately entranced. Performed at Columbia’s Dance Center, on a rainy cold fall night, this was the first contemporary dance company that I’ve ever seen, and it was definitely something I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing again.
Choreographed by Lin Hwai-min, founder of the dance troupe, “Water Stains on the Wall” is a visual interpretation into the aesthetics of calligraphy. Throughout the performance, projections of continually moving clouds float across the stark white stage. According to my program, it’s to represent Chinese landscape paintings on an immense rice paper backdrop. It’s not something I would have picked up on without a written description, but now that I think back on it, the technique is visually appeasing. Because it’s a fairly constant motion throughout the production, it doesn’t feel distracting in any way. The costumes are likewise, very plain and the dancers never change throughout the performance. From the waist up, they are either shirtless or with a nude color top on. It’s almost like the canvas needed to be bare on the upper half of the body for the giant puffy pants. Seriously, the pants are the same design that we saw out of “Aladdin” during the 90’s, only in a more crisp white and sheer fabric.
Like I said before, I don’t understand dance. On the other hand, I do know design and visuals, and, despite its simplicity of set and costumes, “Water Stains” was captivating to watch. The dancers motions were always fluid, one circular motion flowing direction into another. I studied calligraphy a little bit, and you could almost see the same flicks of the wrist and pressure put down on the brush in the actions of the dancers. Although I’m sure it’s a bit of a stretch for the everyday audience, “Water Stains” is a bizarrely good representation of the process of calligraphy into a large stage. The action is very minimal, and it feels like no movement is wasted.
The other main portion to any dance routine is the music. “Water Stains” has a soundtrack by Toshio Hosokawa that sounds sort of like an adventure video game that I’ve never played before. The soundtrack is somewhat subdued and haunting for the most part, with a Zen-like feeling that relaxes you, and still manages to keep you interested instead of falling asleep. When the music picks up in speed, it also picks up in volume, and starts to sound like I should prepare for battle instead of just sitting around. I didn’t walk away with a certain number stuck in my head, but it was a nice backdrop to the dancers in front of me.
The all-around production of “Water Stains” feels dynamic and different. I think some of the point of contemporary dance is to feel different, and this show pulls it off wonderfully. From the clouds rolling by in the background, to the peaceful, yet powerful score that keeps me entertained, the entire production is something to behold.
By showing us the professionals in our field, Columbia gives its students the unique opportunity to go outside of their comfort zone and grab some new inspiration. The professionals have made this their life’s work, and have used their mediums into an effective life plan. They are the ones currently in the field, and can give us tips on what it’s truly like outside of our college zone, and in the true vital urban reality that is Chicago. They also provide us with new techniques and tools as to different forms of inspiration, to show us where our true passion lies. We don’t take the ideas from them, but we use the ideas into something more, and something to help us when we’ve graduated.
At most universities and colleges, there is a line between if an event is college-related or not. This insures that the college doesn’t have to take blame if something goes wrong, and that the college knows its boundaries. At Columbia, however, the Museum of Contemporary Photography perfectly blurs this line. Located at the base of the 600 S Michigan building, where the administrative offices and various classrooms are housed, the Museum technically is a part of the college. They’re a part of the college phonebook and everything. However, looking at the museum in general, you might not even notice the Columbia logo. The photographs and exhibitions aren’t necessarily by Columbia students. The employees don’t wear badges loudly proclaiming that they’re from Columbia. It’s hard to determine if the space is run, or just simply owned by the college. This is an important aspect of the museum to recognize. Students can easily access the space, giving them another form of inspiration and another art gallery to look at. It’s free, and a welcoming space for creativity juices to get flowing, without feeling like you’re at a college-run event. It’s almost like a little escape from the norm for a period of time, and when you’re surrounded by so many college students and college-themed events, that counts for a lot.
The Museum of Contemporary Photography is currently showing an exhibition all on crime photography, called “Crime Unseen”. The show has photographs by eight different artists, all focused under the subject of retelling historic crimes in a manner to give further contemplation. The pictures force you to think about crime in different layers, underneath the pure knowledge that they happened. They make you think about the people behind the crimes, and the victims left in the wake. Some pictures are haunting, complete with remnants of blood spatter, to the semi-surreal evidence photos by Richard Barnes of a cabin that was inhabited by a man who sent bombs across the country. “Crime Unseen” is a new look into the different crimes of America, and the aftermath of their actions.
The most evocative set of photographs is the installation by Angela Strassheim. Strassheim, a former field agent for the Miami Forensic Imaging Bureau, uses a chemical spray called “Blue Star” to make the remnants of blood spatters show up in rooms where violence has occurred at some point in the past. At first, the spatters are this odd source of light coming from the wall or floor. But then when it finally clicks in your head that it’s not emitting light whatsoever, and really is in odd puddled and splashed patterns, your eyes get wide, and you almost have to look away. The amount of blood is slightly varied, but your mind can still put together horrors upon horrors almost instantly. Strassheim takes special care to contrast color shots of the exterior of the homes to the black and white interiors, showing a true distinction to the serenity and normality of the house to the stark inside. It’s an eerie look into the past, but an enjoyable one.
By examining the evidence, we can also see more in detail the cause and effect of crimes. Richard Barnes takes this to a new level, by showing pictures of a cabin. When you’re first looking at the piece, it’s a little disorienting. What is a cabin doing amongst all of this legality and despair? The cabin was once inhabited by Ted Kaczynski, aka The Unabomber, a man who sent handmade untraceable bombs to various places around the country. The cabin was sent to a storage facility in order to be processed and used for evidence, but was never used in court. Barnes’ pictures take a clinical approach to the structure. Such as in “Unabomber 01”, where the cabin is place in a warehouse setting, it almost looks as if the piece is sitting and waiting for an art exhibition itself. There are no personal details or touches to the structure, it just looms over the space, despite not filling up even a portion of the room.
Many of the other artists showcase work with crimes around Chicago, such as Krista Wortendyke’s  “Killing Season: Chicago”, which has a photograph from every homicide that occurred in Chicago over a three month period starting in October 2010. Altogether, the show almost feels confrontational. We tend to shove these crimes under the rug, only caring when we hear some of the details on the news. “Crimes Unseen” forces to look directly at the evil side of humanity, and see it for what is really is: an uncomfortable, yet necessary, look at our perceptions of humanity, security and control of our environment.
There is a constant pressure in the art world to create something new and different all the time. You have to be unique to stand out and get anywhere, but at the surface, this seems impossible. What if all the ideas in the world have already been claimed? At Columbia, we’re sort of taught to embrace the old and blend it with the new. Instead of trying to come up with new ideas all of the time, to put spins on the old ones, to create something that the world might do a double-take at. Everyone at the school, including our teachers and mentors, is also trying to create something original, but that isn’t always necessary. What’s necessary is the ability to look at old ideas and turn them completely upside down. Columbia forces you to take a good long look at history, and alter the future. After all, those who don’t understand history are doomed to repeat it, and nobody in the art world wants to see that.
“Galileo had a sex life. Who knew?” It’s a tag line that would make anyone stop and do a double-take. We tend to have a childhood fantasy of the man who looked up at the stars and saw something different, but know next to nothing about his personal life. But that’s exactly what the world premiere production of “Celestial Bodies” tries to bring in to light.
Written by Lisa Schlesinger, assistant professor in Fiction Writing at Columbia, the play revolves around Maria Gamba, Galileo’s mistress. Together, Galileo and Gamba lived together for twelve years and had three illegitimate children together. Not much is known about this time. “Celestial Bodies” takes place over this time period, and is a dramatized version of their lives. Directed by Will Casey, adjunct faculty member in the Theater Department, the play weaves seamlessly through this time period with mostly ease.
“Celestial Bodies” begins with Gamba as a young peasant girl, too poor to attend school, despite her desperate need for more knowledge. Consequently, she dresses up like a man and begins attending school with Galileo. Gamba stays dressed as a man for quite awhile, so the story isn’t a clean cut “boy meets girl” trope. It also doesn’t fall into the Disney story telling of my childhood favorite movie, Mulan, where the character’s feelings dealing with gender identity are never addressed. You can see on Galileo’s (played by Lee Bainbridge) face that he is positively entranced with this new person, but doesn’t know how to act or react to his feelings. It’s something interesting to watch, especially with the backdrop of the 17th century.
Although most of the play goes through Maria Gamba’s point of view, a large portion of the advertising material is focused on Galileo. Now, I understand why this is. Galileo is obviously the most well-known of the two, and people relate to him more than a random woman’s name who lives a couple of centuries ago. However, I feel like this misconstrues the point of the play. To me, the point was that in order for Galileo to discover all of his famous scientific theories, he needed a little help behind the scenes. He needed more curiosity, which was brought to him by way of Gamba. Not just for sexual awakening, like the tag line and promotional material would have the audience believe. She is the one who first begins to question the universe around them.
The cast is truly something that just clicks together. You see the relationships between characters at a much deeper level, and without them, I’m not sure the play would have worked. Gamba, played by Columbia senior Erin O’Brien, balances fairly equally the need for Gabma to have her head in the clouds, but also grounded enough to not become a caricature of a character.
As a whole, I tend to love the historical fiction genre, no matter the medium. “Celestial Bodies” does not disappoint in that matter. There were times when I thought the script felt a little forced, but as a whole, this was an excellent world premiere production.
Columbia does have its faults, don’t get me wrong. And every time finals week comes around, you literally feel like there is no creativity left in your soul. But Columbia teaches us about the city and the world around us, therefore preparing us for the future. By coming here instead of a regular university or college, we see the city of Chicago through the eyes of a citizen, not a visitor. We are thrust with new opportunities to take a part in the actual art world, outside of this creative bubble. But because of that bubble, we learn from the professionals around us, and are able to put new spins on old ideas and concepts. We alter the way we think and learn to fit the environment, and consequently this changes our art into something all its own.