My twitter feed regularly sends me images of three artists, without me ever having followed those sources. Riddle me that! I like two of them very much (Max Ernst and Varo Remedios,) but had never heard of the third one, Ivan Shishkin (1832-1898). He was a Russian Realist (in contrast to the other two surrealists,) and I now recall I included one of his paintings in a recent blog about people wandering through landscapes. But that’s it.
Pine on sand # Heuer #photography
In any case, looking at Shishkin’s landscapes, painted around the area of St. Petersburg and elsewhere in Russia, I was struck how many of them resided in variations in my photographic archives, without ever having set foot into Russia. The scenes were photographed in Europe and North America. The fact that similarities can be salient, just as dissimilarities can, seemed noteworthy in light of the fact that I know so many people who are currently moving away or have moved away from places they have called home for years. Not everything will be unfamiliar!
Stone in the forest # Heuer #photography
For the younger ones, the reasons for moving have to do with increased flexibility of the workplace, allowing to do your job long distance. For those I am most familiar with, a continual change of location implies mostly excitement, and has also been the norm between college, grad school, post docs and so on. Relocation of us older folks is a different thing – often done to be closer to family, to be of mutual support, sometimes done to find environments easier on an aging body or to escape into (visions of) tranquility. Not an entirely new phenomenon, if you think of the many East Coast “snowbirds” who annually tracked to Florida in the winter from the Northern states (again, I am aware it is the privilege of a certain class.)
Oaks # Heuer #photography
You give up a few things when you move. Your familiarity with the lay-out of your city and environs, your ease of finding your way, your knowledge of where to find things (in shops or nature,) not to mention your doctors, dentists, and last but not least the friends who remained (this latter one is for older people often a reason to move rather than to stay – people around you are no longer.) And your sense of place, your attachment to and pride in the place you call home, will be disturbed, although, as we will see, it can be reestablished on the other end with remarkable fluency.
Mounds # Heuer #photography
There is a whole research enterprise in various scientific disciplines that explores the (dis)advantages of a sense of place that comes mostly from having lived somewhere for a long time, if not all of your life. (I got my information here and here.) Definitions vary as do approaches, it can be confounding to try and get a grasp of it.
For psychologists, it is the experience of a person in a particular setting, feelings and thoughts included. In geography, it’s called topophilia, the affective bond between people and place or setting. For historians it is a sense of place that we ourselves create in the course of time. It is the result of habit or custom, reinforced by what might be called a sense of recurring events. For anthropologists, place attachment is more than an emotional and cognitive experience, it includes cultural beliefs and practices that link people to place, a symbolic element tying us to shared history.
The tree in the field # Heuer #photography
Let’s stick with the psychology: the feelings and thoughts about where you live. They can be influenced by numerous bonds. There is the biographical tie, you were born here or lived here for a long time. The bond can be based on spiritual relationships, you feel a sense of belonging within your people’s history, for example. You can be tied to a place for ideological reasons (let’s skip that…) or due to an accepted narrative (creation myths, stories of origin.) And, importantly, the relationship can be a commodity: you choose a place based on desirable attributes, grand children high on the list (!), life style preferences, health advantages and so on. Last but not least the tie to a place can be involuntary, a bond by material pressures, constrained by economic dependency or lack of choice (and I am not going into the legislative proposals floating around that in the future women will only be allowed to leave a state if they prove they are not pregnant.)
Sandy Coastline #ivanshishkin # Realism
Sandy Coastline # Heuer #photography
Note, for all of you who move(d) with mixed feeling: the element of choice is one that can (re)establish a sense of place, a positive attachment. Given that our notions of a somewhat ideal community change across the life span, it follows that we would want to relocate towards something closer to our ideals. It might not be easy, but then being stuck in an increasingly lonely place isn’t either. It might not be your first choice, but at least you have a choice, in contrast to people displaced by involuntary reasons.
Mirror Lake shrouded in mist # Heuer #photography
The research bears out that you increase the likelihood of positive attachment to a place with increased participation in a community, with benefits for the environment in return (the more attached people are to a place, the more they invest to protect that place, urban or rural). I think community participation is particularly difficult if you are older, and now constrained by the pandemic dangers for many of us. Nonetheless, focussing on ways to integrate with people who share interests or political goals might be the way to go. Joining walking tours to explore the architecture or history of a place might help. Even if you loathe group activities or don’t feel up to take history courses, there are ways to familiarize yourself with the place on one’s own. Worthwhile exploring!
(And on a totally selfish note: I miss every single one of you who is moving/has moved…. you are putting a dent in my sense of place! And welcome to the ones moving in!)
Grass # Heuer #photography
Music by a quintessential Russian composer. (And YES I do not cancel Russian artists if they have no affinity to current events.) “The 14th symphony is scored for soprano, bass, and orchestra and dedicated to English composer Benjamin Britten. Comprised of 11 texts by Federico Garcia Lorca, Apollinaire, Küchelbecker, and Rainer Maria Rilke, the theme of mortality unites these varied texts. The result is a highly unorthodox, engrossing reminder that death is always waiting.”
So we might as well make the best of our remaining time, moving and all!)
the process of spreading through and being present or perceived in every part of something. Oxford Languages Dictionary
I wish the sculptures I am presenting today would not trigger associations of something malevolent, if not evil, pervading the space around us, creeping in, sliding through, erupting through protective barriers and consuming the space we inhabit. It is remarkable work by a Brazilian artist, Henrique Oliveira, and does not deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as the national and international assaults on human rights, or the authoritarian creep, or the misogynistic and racist slime surrounding us, but I could not force my brain to see it any other way. Then again, that is what extraordinary art does, mirroring the world as is.
It’s not just gloom. It really is a state of fear, or worry morphing into anger, if not rage, when encountering the next bit of horrifying news. People are killed in wars, killed by heat in Asia not known in these dimensions, needlessly dying of a virus for lack of organized protection. Now we learn that the old Christian men (and woman) in power in this country have decided to take rights away that they consider not “historically rooted,” tolerating the death of countless women, never mind their loss of control over their own bodies.
per·ver·sion/pərˈvərZHən/noun
the alteration of something from its original course, meaning, or state to a distortion or corruption of what was first intended. Oxford Languages Dictionary
The draft of a leaked majority Supreme Court decision to overturn Roe vs Wade, points to a future that perverts everything liberal democracies have fought for, to an extent that is hard to fathom. It is not just about the right to safe, legal abortions. Alito’s draft opinion explicitly criticizes Lawrence v. Texas (legalizing sodomy) and Obergefell v. Hodges (legalizing same-sex marriage). He says that, like abortion, these decisions protect phony rights that are not “deeply rooted in history.” (Which is, by the way, exactly how Justice Robert Taney argued in the Dred Scott decision: “no African-American, free or enslaved, had ever enjoyed the rights of a citizen under the Constitution. For more than a century leading up to the ratification of the Constitution, blacks had been regarded as beings of an inferior order, altogether unfit to associate with the white race … and so far inferior, that they had no rights which the white man was bound to respect.”)
Never mind the selective reading of “history.” It was not until the 1820s – 1840s that abortion got criminalized in this country. The right to determine the fate of women’s own body has been assigned for over 50 years now, 20 % of our 244 years as nation. Not enough history? More importantly, look at the 9th amendment: “The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by people.” Evolving rights were acknowledged, because not all future developments could be known.
If you connect the assault on the right to privacy, the pointer to the historic past, and the discussion found in conservative think tanks and law schools, we have to worry about assaults on all the rights that have been granted: the right to racially-integrated schools highly among them, to inter-racial marriage, to gay marriage, to life-saving gender-affirming medical care, and the right to vote in fair and free elections.
What sounds like nostalgic longing for a past by retrogressive justices is really a toxic power tool to re-establish complete control over those who served in prior centuries: the poor, the non-white, the 3/5 of person, the female contingents of our societies that were subjected to the preferred standing of property-owning males.
I recommend to read this Atlantic article by Adam Server for the details of Alito’s SC decision draft. I urge, if you have the time, to go back to an older book, that presciently spelled out what we are embarking on, while analyzing similar movements of the past: Hanna Arendt’s The Origins of Totalitarianism.
Arendt wrote this book after World War II had ended, fully convinced that even darker days were ahead, with totalitarian ideals going to surge and rule. Maybe her timing was bit off, but what she feared is slowly emerging across our world. Looking just at our own country, the U.S, inequality has risen to unthinkable heights, elections are under attack in systematic ways never seen before, from simply not accepting election outcomes to manufacturing every possible obstacle to free and fair voting, or means of influencing voters via hidden funds and manipulated mass media.
We do live in a world in which it seems, as she wrote, “as though mankind had divided itself between those who believe in human omnipotence (who think that everything is possible if one knows how to organize masses for it) and those for whom powerlessness has become the major experience of their lives.” In fact, you don’t even have to organize the masses any longer, if you have found ways to suppress them. Arendt looked back at the history of Nazi Germany in particular, but also European racism and imperialism in general, and warned: Human rights are not to be taken for granted. “To have such rights, she observed, you must not only live in a state that can guarantee them; you must also qualify as one of that state’s citizens. The stateless, and those classified as noncitizens, or non-people, are assured of nothing. The only way they can be helped or made secure is through the existence of the state, of public order, and of the rule of law.“
Think through who qualified as non-citizens in this country before the addition of the 14th amendment to the Constitution. For that matter, refresh you memory of all the “historically rooted” rights women did not have in 1787. Here’s a good reminder. And here is what an evolving legal system that incorporates the enlightenment of our times looks like: White women couldn’t vote before 1920. Women of color couldn’t vote until 1965. Interracial marriage was illegal until 1967. Americans with disabilities act was signed in 1990. Being subjected, subjugated, controlled again seems to be the nostalgic dream of the men who are now able to make the law – or, as I see it, a mockery of it.
Alas, Hannah Arendt also reminds us of another aspect of history – then and now. She pointed to the passivity of many people in the face of authoritarian rule, by the widespread willingness, even eagerness, to believe lies and propaganda. “In the totalitarian world, trust has dissolved. The masses believe everything and nothing, think that everything was possible and that nothing was true.” And talking about propaganda – the airwaves, 24 hours after the drop, are filled with uproar over the act of leaking, conveniently suppressing the core of the message, the threatened loss of constitutional rights.
I truly fear, though, that after some initial ruckus, that passivity will hold here and now again. DO prove me wrong, to my eternal delight.
All photographs above are from Oliveira’s work, referenced on his website.
Images below are a compilation, shown before, from my series Tied to the Moon, about women’s experiences and life events, for timely reasons.
My German readers currently have the opportunity to visit an exhibition called Macht! Licht! at the Kunstmuseum Wolfsburg. The title is ambiguous – it could mean “Turn on the Light!” or “Power!Light!” The latter English translation is also ambiguous: power can refer to electricity per se, or to the uses of electric light in the context of surveillance, monitoring, torture or even destruction. (Ab)using power in the political sense.
You figure out how I took these photos of my shadow….
A description of the exhibitions contents:
Based on selected works from the collection of the Kunstmuseum Wolfsburg, a fascinating spectrum of works of light art is presented in the darkened hall of the museum, the conceptual levels of reflection of which focus on the following (socio-)political areas: utopia/dystopia; ecology/biology; economics; violence/power; control/monitoring; advertising/manipulation; enlightenment/obfuscation; border/exclusion; public space etc.
I have obviously not seen the exhibition, but was made curious by one of the projects that is mentioned in the write-ups of the show. A collaborative team of artist Nana Petzet and biologist(s) explore the unintended consequences of artificial light used in cultural contexts – light shows during outside concerts, public nighttime events, festivals of light, etc.
Old Elbtunnel,Hamburg
Portland Airport
Parking Lot Boston, MA
The project, stretched across some years, was called Lichtfalle Hamburg (Light Trap – the link can be read in English.) It mimicked (in greatly reduced fashion with a single boat) the conditions of blue light that the City of Hamburg uses during Harbor festivals that illuminate the public landscape and night sky.
Photocredit: Helge Mundt
(“Cruise Days” they are called. It is one of those festivals, where 12,000 light sources – mostly blue fluorescent tubes – are strung in the port area and the HafenCity. Over a period of five weeks, with the aid of 40 km of cables and a team of 40 assistants, they were mounted onto buildings, quay sections, cranes, jetties, pontoons, launches, ferries, tugboats, docks, operational vehicles, trees, bridges etc.)
Photocredit: Hamburger Hafen Marketing
What would the light do to insect populations? The team counted and observed the behavior of about 16 orders of insects, moths among them but also large swarms of dayflies that usually hover above the river. Surprise, the results were of great concern. Insects are attracted to these light sources and fly around them to the point of such exhaustion that they don’t find their way home, basically dying in situ – something called the “vacuum cleaner effect. The land on surfaces and dry out, when exhausted, unable to reproduce before their death.
Hamburg Elbphilharmonie
This matters tremendously for pollination in times when we already see a huge reduction in numbers of insects due to destroyed habitats and shifts in temperatures that many species cannot adapt to. In other words, those lovely evenings celebrated with light, lifting our spirits, have truly bad consequences for agricultural environments
Old Elbtunnel, Hamburg – San Francisco Airport
Light pollution is often mentioned in terms of disrupting sleep patterns in humans and flight patterns for migratory birds, leading to huge losses there as well. We now have to add insect to the list. Here is a short intro to light pollution by National Geographic, Light Pollution 101. It discusses the problem of waste of energy as well.
Hamburg Elbphilharmonie – Hamburg Harbor Water Recycling Plant
Here in Portland, OR we have the annual Winter Light Festival that brings light art to the river for a short period of time, and the Willamette Light Brigade, who, in their words, harness the power of artful lighting to transform the cityscape by lighing bridges and advocating for the importance of night-time identity and place-making. There is WinterFest with light art in Central Oregon, and there are numerous night markets around the year that add extra lighting to city scapes that have already a high dose of light pollution through street lighting and shops windows etc.
Staircase in Ljubljana, Slovenia
For those interested what daily excessive use of light in a regular manner does to our environment, here is a relatively recent article in Nature that shows ho much research is going on in the environmental and ecological sciences. Truly interesting. And here are pictures of Portland’s light pollution and a link to the International Dark Sky Week 2022 (April 22 -30) that gives tips about how to reduce light pollution in our own households.
Photographs today are of instances where my eyes got caught by light patterns, inside as well as outside. Some of these are from Hamburg, where the Light Trap project took place.
Staircase in Paula Modersohn Becker Musem in Bremen – Stage scenery in Portland Armory
We have for the longest associated light with something positive. It offers protection, carves out social spaces, secures movement at night. Light art certainly has an enthusiastic following. It looks like we need to ask some serious questions about what the consequences are and was we are willing or should sacrifice in order to pay environmental protection more than lip service.
Advert in San Francisco – Art in Montreal – Lit Sign at RISD in Providence, Rhode Island
Here is a video that shows some of the work shown in Macht!Licht! and some other European light art. The language is German, but the images speak for themselves, Guantanomo reconstruction of a white torture chamber included.
Frei Hafen Hamburg
And here is Hamburg’s son, Brahms, played at the Elbphilharmonie – the building in some of the photos above. Pink lights and all….
The Oregon Humanities offers a terrific program called Dear Stranger. It is an annual letter-exchange project that connects Oregonians with each other, to share bits about their lives, their experiences and beliefs. You send a letter in and they randomly swap it for another one sent back to you. This year’s topic revolves around care: who cares about what, whom, where do you see care and where its absence. You can still join, the deadline is in June, I believe.
I wish I had gotten one of these letters, years ago, from someone living in Hillsboro. It would have helped me discover a vibrant community, devoted to the arts, caring for education and inclusivity. It’s sort of absurd that I have hiked and photographed in neighboring Jackson Bottom Wetlands Preserve for years on end, and never ever set foot into the town nearby, so easily reached by the MAX Blue line or by car with plenty of free parking.
Maybe you all knew all along. But I am not the only one who had no clue what’s on offer. When I visited the Glenn and Viola Walters Cultural Arts Center by invitation of the gallery specialist, Karen de Benedetti, I uttered something along the lines of “I didn’t know this existed!” This seems to be a sentiment frequently voiced by visitors right next to the belief that the building is a church. Which it was, and a beautiful one inside at that.
The Walters opened its doors in 2004 and has since served the community in many ways. Like the Parks and Recreation, Cultural Arts Division, all the Walters’ programs are part of the City of Hillsboro. What used to be a sanctuary is now a performance space with a stage, a fully equipped, concert-quality sound booth, and a program that includes something for every interest, from music to dance to the spoken word, diverse genres and cultural perspectives included. Of the 16 performances in each annual series, 6 are grant funded by the Performance Series Grant Program, providing opportunity for local groups to join the series. There are also other grant programs that support local artists and arts organizations. Cultural Arts Manager Michele McCall-Wallace is one of the forces at work to shape these programs at the Walters as well as the town’s cultural arts action plan that envisions future developments.
Entrance Hall and Performance Space at the Walters
The large space with its beautiful wood-work ceiling arches can also be rented for social occasions, from weddings, to quinceañeras, to celebratory luncheons, fundraisers and so on. Another, perhaps even more important way to serve the community, is the educational program offered by the center.
Melissa Moore is responsible for the education and outreach program which offers a wide variety of learning opportunities, from painting, to dance, theatre, music, drawing, and more. Among them is a fully equipped ceramics studio that welcomes students of all levels and provides access to its kilns for those enrolled in the classes.
From pre-school to seniors, with scholarships available, art education is prized, as is community involvement. The center, in partnership with the Washington County Office for Aging, Disability, and Veteran Services, offers a Memory Café, for example, which is designed for people with memory loss, early stage Alzheimer’s or a related dementia, and their families. Trained guides help participants experience art in a gentle environment.
Various local-non-profits engage with youths in programs at the Walters, in ways that contribute both knowledge and occasional gifts. The Hillsboro police department, for example, donated and fitted helmets at the end of a class that had kids create designs and then paint a skateboard. Skateboards reminded me of Hillsboro author’s Blake Nelson’s novel Paranoid Park, made into a movie by Gus van Sant. Remember? The film won, among others, the Cannes Film Festival’s special 60th anniversary prize. Nelson these days has an interesting travel blog, by the way.
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Gallery space upstairs and downstairs
I had come to explore the current exhibition, Fire & Ice: Magic from the Earth, at the Walters’ art gallery which covers a set of spaces upstairs and downstairs, wide open and more intimate, respectively. Sensitively and tightly curated by de Benedetti, the exhibit alone is worth a trip out to Portland’s Western neighbor. The work is divided between ceramics and photography, the latter of frozen constellations captured by notable PNW fine art photographer Don Jacobson. Some of the icy landscapes might make it into the history annals, if the current warming climate trends continue (never mind this strange snowy April weather.)
Don Jacobson: Eagle Creek #1
Don Jacobson Ice Cathedral – Lower Multnomah Falls #2
Don Jacobson – Porcelain Basin #2
The ceramics were created by the folks at East Creek Art, a community art studio in Willamina, OR, that serves students, artists and educators, offering an introduction to and use of the West’s first Anagama wood burning kiln. Making these objects requires firing the wares in a collaborative process that takes several days of round-the-clock stoking, with flames and ashes creating the incredible patterning on the art.
Aubrey Sloan and Joe Robinson Flotsam
Cooper Jeppesen Tripod Vase
From left to right: Jenna Lee Wood-fired ZigZag Planter; Katy McFadden A Union; Chris Schwartz Wood fried Temmoku Vase; Elijah Pilkington Altered Stoneware Vase;
Jess “Squirrel” Komaromy Old Rosie.
What struck me most was not just the beauty of individual pieces, but the communal richness of the show: art ranged from works of absolute beginners to masters of the form, reinforcing rather than distracting from each other. Instructing new generations in an ancient Asian methodology.
Cooper Jeppesen East Creek Basket #1
Lew Allen Ashfall (Excerpt) Carrie Gibbs Oregon’s Elusive Bigfoot 2020 “Barely Made It!”
About a quarter of Hillsboro’s population (in total now well over 100.000 inhabitants, thus Oregons 5th largest city) could probably read Cervantes in the original, given their Hispanic background. I can only manage in translation: “One who reads and walks a lot, sees and knows a lot.” And walk we did during this visit, as well as drive, guided by yet another friendly person willing to devote some of his work day to showing me around.
Karl LeClair, a recent transplant from Idaho, is the new Public Art Supervisor in the Hillsboro Parks & Recreation universe. He guided me to three points of interest beyond the Walters, relevant to the appreciation of public art. (Further reading, in agreement with Cervantes, will involve this link to the Public Art Archive, a fount of information.)
We looked at the Hillsboro Civic Center and the adjacent Plaza first. The few remaining Sequoias across the street are reflected in the building, and a bold piece on its walls traces the needle branches.
Brian Borrello Sequoia Frond (2004)
The Plaza itself is a lively place when the weather warms up and Tuesday night markets resume. It is lined with basalt boulders that reveal their secrets with differing degrees of ease – 30 petroglyphs have been carved by Lillian Pitt (Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs/ Wasco/ Yakama) in an installation called Riverbed. It is a timely reminder that the city is located on Tualatin Kalapuya (Atfalati) land (I wrote about some of the Kalapuyan tribal history earlier here.)
Lillian Pitt Riverbed
Inside the Civic Center the visitor is greeted with colorful art on the elevator doors, glass art on the stair well, and a gallery space, the Shirley Huffman Auditorium Gallery, that contains permanent as well as changing exhibitions, currently showing work of some of the faculty that teaches at the Walters.
Hampton Rodriguez Diversity
Linda Haworth Father Time (2004) – John Groth Grand Staircase (2004) – Walters’ Faculty show Creative Brilliance – Skateboard included!
Another gallery space can be found at the recently opened Hidden Creek Community Center, a stream-lined, state-of-the-art facility for sports, education and meeting rooms. OPSIS Architecture collected tons of well deserved awards across the last two years for this first-of-its-kind mass timber building that blends into the adjacent forest. Situated close to a site designated for a large affordable housing development, the wood and glass structure is functional and inviting. Better still, with a large solar array on the roof of the community wing, natural ventilation, water conservation measures, and balanced daylighting, the Community Center is enrolled in the Energy Trust of Oregon’s Path to Net-Zero program and is expected to achieve net-zero energy use.
The public art above and below is by acclaimed Seattle public artist Norie Sato, a front entry steel wall with embedded tiny mirrors that reflect light and a free standing sculpture, E+MergenCe: Energy and Memory.
There are clearly numerous decentralized spaces for art in this city, and, as LeClair told me, conversations have often looked to find ways to coordinate and harmonize the isolated showings and offerings. As a City of Hillsboro program, the Cultural Arts Division of Parks & Recreation operates under the guidance of the Hillsboro Art and Culture Council (HACC) which is a citizen advisory committee appointed by the Mayor and City Council. The City’s Cultural Arts Action Plan captures the spirit of critical mass within Hillsboro advocating for the growth of cultural assets that benefits the local community and guides the work of Cultural Arts in serving the community.
Here are some of the upcoming programs at the Walters – just so you get a glimpse of the variety on offer.
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A Thousand Words June 7 – July 22, 2022
Joy Cartier, Mark Dunst, Jane Kearns, Stacey Stoudenmeyer, & Eliza Williams
On display Jun 7 – Jul 22
First Tuesday’s (June 7 & July 5)
Like the pages of a book, artists Joy Cartier, Mark Dunst, Jane Kearns, Stacey Stoudenmeyer and Eliza Williams explore the messy, imperfect space between thoughts and words. Layering paper, paint, and meaning over time, the artists merge simplicity and complexion, with captured emotions and expressions to tell abstracted stories.
Upcoming programs:
First Tuesday Art Walk, May 3rd 5:00 – 8:00 pm (Walters)
Lee Kelly dedication, May 17th 11:30 – 1:00 pm (Public Works building)
Rasika Dance Friday, May 20th 6:30 – 7:30 pm (Walters)
Barro Mestizo Friday, May 6th 7:30 pm (Walters)
Grupo Borikuas Friday, June 10th 7:30 pm (Walters)
Rejoice Friday, April 22nd 7:30 pm (Walters)
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And then there was the unexpected detour to the Hillsboro Public Works facility. Think transportation, sanitary sewer, and storm drainage, housed in a modern structure, designed by the same LRS architectural group that built the Civic Center. In front, an unwieldy, huge sculpture emerges through mist and rain, seemingly dropped from the sky like an alien crustacean. It stands there stubbornly, daring us to find a linkage, any association at all, to the building behind it, which I failed to come up with. Not that it mattered: Lee Kelly’s 30 year-old Untitled (Omark) piece breathes freely on its own. A powerful, abstract Cor-Ten steel structure stretches all of its 14x26x36 feet size into space, solidly anchored on stout columns, beckoning with openings under its arches.
Rumor has it that the sculpture by Kelly, who passed away last month, was in limbo at its old location and destined for the steelyard. Originally commissioned by Omark Industries, (Oregon Saw Chain Company in its beginnings) it stood at their business site along Macadam Ave, at the Willamette river. When property changed hands nobody knew what to do with the piece. Kelly’s representative, Elizabeth Leach Gallery, came to the rescue, as did Hillsboro’s Public Art Program, and this new location was secured. A dedication ceremony is slated for May 17th.
Lee Kelly Untitled (Omark) (1992)
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Portland, OR April 2022
“Dear Stranger,
I hope this letter finds you well and able to explore some of what our state has to offer. I immigrated to the US in 1981, and have lived in PDX since 1986. I am interested in practically everything, except sports and cooking. (Yes, people like that do exist.)
Art has a special place in my world and I admit that I have not been particularly informed about what Oregon provides state-wide, or even in my own vicinity. My bad. One of the remedies was an exploration of Hillsboro, a small town west of Portland.
Since the topic of this year’s pen-pal exchange is “care,” let me report that I just discovered how much Hillsboro and its organizations, its art- and public service-related staff, all care about the arts. Work for the arts. Educate about the arts. Invest in the arts.
There seems to be an implicit understanding that private and public art does not just enrich physical environments, or boost local economies. Art can raise community pride, promote civic discourse, connect neighbors and their communities in all their diversity and/or shared history. I am grateful that a single proactive gallery curator got me out to a place where all of this seems to be happening! Let me do you the favor in turn – head to Hillsboro!
Sincerely,
Another Stranger.”
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The Glenn and Viola Walters Cultural Arts Center
150 E. Main Street, Hillsboro, Oregon 97123
Hours of Operation Monday through Thursday: 9 am to 9 pm Friday: 9 am to 5 pm Saturday & Sunday: Closed except for special events & private rentals
Exhibit Reception for Fire& Ice: Tuesday, May 3, 5 to 8 pm
We live in this culture of endless extraction and disposal: extraction from the earth, extraction from people’s bodies, from communities, as if there’s no limit, as if there’s no consequence to how we’re taking and disposing, and as if it can go on endlessly. We are reaching the breaking point on multiple levels. Communities are breaking, the planet is breaking, people’s bodies are breaking. We are taking too much. – Naomi KleinThis changes everything.
***
Golden sun, ewes and their lambs dotting the landscape, swaths of mustard-seed flowers radiating yellow against blue skies, all after days of hailstorms and dark clouds – the drive down from Portland to a rural hamlet East of Eugene felt like a journey into spring. A red barn inviting, a small river gurgling in the backyard, blue wood hyacinths beckoning under shady trees – it seemed like I had landed in a fairy tale. Mind you, having grown up in a small village, I am under no illusion about the down-sides of remote country living, but in spring there is no more enchanting place to be.
The artist at the Mohawk River in her backyard, with house and studio.
I was visiting with one of the participating artists of Maryhill Museum’s Exquisite Gorge II project, invited to see her studio and talk about plans for a fiber art sculpture to be exhibited on August 6th, 2022 together with multiple other ones, all aligned to celebrate successive parts of the Columbia river.
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THE EXQUISITE GORGE PROJECTII
“…a collaborative fiber arts project featuring 13 artists working with communities along a 220-mile stretch of the Columbia River from the Willamette River confluence to the Snake River confluence. The project, again initiated by Maryhill Museum of Art and following the original one by printmakers in 2019, takes inspiration from the Surrealist art practice known as exquisite corpse. In the most well-known exquisite corpse drawing game, participants took turns creating sections of a body on a piece of paper folded to hide each successive contribution. When unfolded, the whole body is revealed. In the case of The Exquisite Gorge Project II, the Columbia River will become the ‘body’ that unifies the collaboration between artists and communities, revealing a flowing 66-foot work that tells 10 conceptual stories of the Columbia River and its people.”
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Ophir El-Boher somehow manages to combine a multitude of roles, all with a seeming serenity that makes you immediately breathe more easily in her company. She is an apparel designer educated in multidisciplinary design at the Kibbutzim College of Education, Technology and the Arts in Israel, where she grew up. She received her M.F.A. in Collaborative Design, Sustainable Fashion from Pacific Northwest College of Art three years ago. She is also a studio artist, an educator and scholar, and last but not least a social activist concerned with social justice issues in general and ethical-sustainable models of fashion in particular.
El-Boher’s studio is a joyful, bright place, much like its occupant. Surfaces are covered with everything from whimsical postcards, mementos, samples, instructions, to design sketches, philosophical treatises and clothing materials, echoing the multiple perspectives that inform her creativity.
The artist embraces fashion as much as she is aware of the destructive aspects associated with the production of ever more clothes. In our form of economy the textile industry plays a huge role in pushing the economic core unit, the commodity, to keep sales up. One way to seduce people into ever increasing consumption is to lure them with newness, and fashion delivers exactly that novelty, suggesting your social inclusion and/or attractiveness will be enhanced if you follow the trend of the moment. Consumption stimulates production, and the other way round – so what’s to complain about?
Plenty, it turns out, certainly since the first Industrial Revolution which introduced automated cotton, worsted wool and yarn spinning in factories in Europe, where cheap labor (including child labor, with children exempted from compulsory education) was used to spin materials harvested by American slaves. 10-hour work days 6 days a week, work-related accidents and illness-inducing working conditions were the norm. Fashion, once a domain for the wealthy, was quickly discovered to serve profit interests quite well, directed at ever larger swaths of populations, ever more cheaply made for quick discarding, and ever more cheaply sold to larger numbers of people who got addicted to constant change.
This is not all in the past, of course. If you look at the conditions of textile workers in the developing world, where production has been outsourced, you find everything from workers being exploited and harassed, made sick by enormous environmental pollution, to coordinated efforts to drive wages down and minimize environmental consciousness. Numerous non-governmental organizations, like the German FEMNET, that I happen to be familiar with, are currently trying to observe and report on the conditions in textile production. They push for new laws like the European supply chain law adopted by the EU on February 23, 2022 which establishes rules for compliance with environmental and human rights standards in global value chains, with more work to be done to combat gender inequalities and discrimination in global value chains. A sustainability movement, however, has a long way to go.
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El-Boher’s focus is on another aspect of the problem with fashion’s churn to discard the old and buy the new. Her concern can be easily visualized if you think of textiles (and really most of the stuff we buy) as a link in a mode of linear production. The line goes from extraction of the resources needed to manufacture a good, to production, to distribution, to consumption, and finally, to disposal. Eventually the resources we extract will run out and disposal of the evermore accumulating waste existentially harms the planet’s health. Here is a short, clever video intro to the concept. And here is a longer article outlining the many factors that need to be checked to see if clothing can truly be called “sustainably made.”
We can deal with some of this, El-Boher argues, by changing this system from a linear to a circular one, by reclaiming what already exists, and refashioning it into something that has more value: upcycling discarded clothes into new ones, or into different objects, or incorporating them into art.
Upcycle: transitive verb: to recycle (something) in such a way that the resulting product is of a higher value than the original item : to create an object of greater value from (a discarded object of lesser value) – Merriam-Webster Dictionary
I was somehow reminded of the old fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin, one of the original upcyclers, spinning straw into gold. Remember the story? Miller oversells his daughter to the king, claiming she has magical power. She is locked in the palace, required to spin straw, best used to line the bottom of the bull-pen, to gold, desired to line the coffers of the king. She gets help by a little man appearing out of nowhere, having to bribe him with first a necklace, then a ring, and finally the promise to give him her first-born. King marries miller’s daughter, baby arrives, little man comes to collect and for some inexplicable reason gives her a three day respite to find out his name which would release her from her promise. Spies hear him, again inexplicably, shouting his name around the fire side, and he angrily splits himself apart when he realizes he lost his prize.
Upcycling, re-using in general, is an important first step towards sustainability. (I wrote about the Buy Nothing network earlier here.) However, it, just like our own decision-making as consumers to buy less or buy mindfully from acceptable sources, puts the burden of changing an unsustainable system onto the individual. It cannot be the whole story. The necessary systemic changes are a different, more complicated matter, requiring a close look at capitalism as a causal link in fashion.
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El-Boher is trained as a collaborative artist and revels in her work with other creative minds. She found the perfect match for the Exquisite Gorge II project in her community partner, the Desert Fiber Arts organization in Kennewick, WA. The non-profit guild was founded in 1974 and has served as a center for teaching and experiencing weaving, spinning, knitting, basketry, felting and more. Their goal is
To promote participation in and appreciation for fine craftsmanship related to the fiber arts.
To encourage the development and interest of the craft field within the arts, in education, therapy, marketing, and the community as a whole.
and workshops, equipment and individual and community support have made it a flourishing environment for creative expression. The artist told me that the members of the guild who committed to working with her on the river project were supplying brilliant ideas and practical solutions to the plan that they developed as a team. She is this week engaged in a series of in-person workshops at the Guild that help in creating the varied materials needed for the design. Each one of them more interesting than the next.
The design grew from early conversations about the history of the land and the people around the upper parts of the Columbia. Entire populations were displaced due to damming the river, disrupting existentially and culturally important salmon runs and access to the river also for Pacific Northwest tribal nations (I had previously written about the effects of dams on Native American life here). The landscape was changed and wildlife corridors disturbed with the erection of endless electricity towers and later wind turbines. Countless container freight trains arriving from all over Washington State these days are filled to the brim with trash, destined for landfills in Northern OR, Eastern WA and Idaho, which use the emanating methane gas to produce electricity.
There is a need, then, to tell of the harm, and the scale of it, related to the landscape and its inhabitants, harm done by human agency, best represented by human hands. However, and this is part of El-Boher’s vision, those very hands can be involved in healing as well, crafting an alternative future. Her favorite color, blue, just might reappear in unsullied skies, less polluted oceans and a healthy planet when viewed from above.
The team decided to have natural materials depict the intact natural past and possible future of the region and contrasting it with a view of materials and objects that introduced so much environmental destruction. It does so in a way that, in my view, incorporates ALL aspects of the word “to spin.” The original term referred to the act of spinning a thread from raw materials, a fundamental task of many in the Fiber Arts Guild. A different way to understand “to spin” is to think of it as spinning a yarn, telling a tale, which the team does with visual cues. And the very last meaning of the word, rotating around an axis, is intended to be represented as well. The fiber-art design contains six panels that represent harm and healing on alternate sides, spinning around a center axis if there is enough wind and the mechanics can be figured out.
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Like many Hebrew words, the artist’s first name, Ophir (אופיר,) has different roots, with some sources claiming it refers to gold, wealth, or riches, and other roots denoting a connection to ashes and being exhausted or depleted. “That means that the name Ophir would probably have reminded a Hebrew audience of the fleeting virtues of wealth, or at least the corrupting qualities of material wealth relative to the eternal wealth of knowledge and wisdom.” (Ref.)
Pickled Jeans, my favorite!
Which brings me back to the previously mentioned fairy tale, most famously presented in 1812 by the Brothers Grimm. The story has a much older provenance, though, believed to have emerged in the Bronze Age (4000 years ago!) and can be found across varied cultures from Europe to Asia. Much to unpack and who knows what is right. But one theme is certainly greed, on behalf of all of the men involved, the father, the king, the goblin. Greed for material wealth that can potentially lead to disastrous outcomes.
Another theme is hubris, or overconfidence, cross-culturally often embedded in tales that teach and warn.
There is the issue of sacrifice, often stressed in interpretations of the tale as one that instructs us to appease the gods if we want a good harvest or things to end well in general.
And then there is naming. The goblin offers a way out of the disastrous loss of the child by tying it to something he thinks is unknowable, his name. The tale suggests, though, that you can acquire knowledge, with motivation, due diligence, perhaps a piece of luck contained in Rumpelstiltskin’s overestimation of his own power. What you know, what you face, what you name, will allow self-protection or protection of others. Naming potential evil is the first step to meet its consequences.
This is what this art does: it names. It alerts us to a story, gives us perspective, potentially warns. It spins a tale and offers visions of mending. An indispensable tool in the fight for a more sustainable future.
I know I have cited this particular author a lot lately, but the words apply here as well and seem a fitting pointer to El-Boher’s and her colleagues’ work:
“Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.” – James Baldwin As Much Truth As One Can Bear (1962.)
“To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it.” — ― Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country
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The last time I was surrounded by, no, immersed in dots, was during a visit to The Broad, L.A.’s museum of contemporary art. If you braved the eternal lines for Souls of a Million Light Years Away, you were accorded exactly 45 seconds to explore the experience once you entered a room full of mirrors and LED lights – guard with stop watch on hand standing outside and calling you out. The installation by nonagenarian artist Yayoi Kusama, obsessed with polka dots, fully insisting that we are all connected souls in the world, felt more spectacle than art, ready for the Instagram crowd.
My visit to Xander Griffith, one of the fiber artists for the Exquisite Gorge II project at Maryhill Museum this summer, put me among the dots again, this time made from felt – but the experience could not have been more different, on so many dimensions, length of time and friendliness of interaction included.
Practicing his art might make his soul grow – looking at it sure lifted mine.
Xander Griffith sitting underneath one of his felt “paintings.”
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THE EXQUISITE GORGE PROJECTII
“…a collaborative fiber arts project featuring 13 artists working with communities along a 220-mile stretch of the Columbia River from the Willamette River confluence to the Snake River confluence. The project, again initiated by Maryhill Museum of Art and following the original one by printmakers in 2019, takes inspiration from the Surrealist art practice known as exquisite corpse. In the most well-known exquisite corpse drawing game, participants took turns creating sections of a body on a piece of paper folded to hide each successive contribution. When unfolded, the whole body is revealed. In the case of The Exquisite Gorge Project II, the Columbia River will become the ‘body’ that unifies the collaboration between artists and communities, revealing a flowing 66-foot work that tells 10 conceptual stories of the Columbia River and its people.”
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Originally from Arizona, Griffith is a quick-witted young artist who discovered felt some eight years ago and has pursued working with it with a passion ever since. (He used to do Improv – would have loved to see him there as well!) One of the inspirations came from a chance encounter at the Portland Art Museum when he was visiting Portland from San Diego where he then lived and collaborated with the non-profit arts organizations Sol Diego Arts Collaborative and the San Diego Collaborative Arts Project, working on diverse large-scale creative projects. With no connection to pointillism or any other impressionist artist – Griffith started to work in shipping right after high school, never exposed to formal art training – he was struck by the effects of this painting by Théo Van Rysselberghe.
He started to cut, roll, shape and manipulate prefabricated felt, the kind you can purchase at any craft store, building, with a hot-glue gun, tableaux that contain entire worlds .
There is no shyness around color, partly driven by what is available, partly an expression of the enthusiasm Griffith brings to describing a world containing beauty. He used to buy the acrylic or rayon-wool blend fabrics by the yard. Eventually he could afford bolts, then cartons of bolts, which lowers the risk that the manufacturers change hue or saturation while he’s in the middle of a project.
Nature in all of its variation is a focus of the displays, but you have to look for it – the felt paintings manage to surprise you with a lot of hidden detail, in color as well as form, once you’ve gone beyond the first overall impression of a riot of saturated pattern. The art reveals itself really with successive inspections, making you interact much more actively with each piece than you would have presumed. (Find the frog or the heron below.)
Griffith is closely connected to nature, living with a rather large snake, a rabbit, and the occasional injured squirrel being nursed back to health, together with his longtime partner in a duplex in Vancouver, WA. The rooms are filled with his creations, a joyous riot of shapes and hues.
Lou Palermo, Maryhill’s Curator of Education, in conversation with the artist.
After the first years of the typical emerging-artist struggles, he was chosen to display his art at Portland Airport. The tableaux were exhibited along the entire Concourse B and thousands of people encountered them. He’s not lacked for commissions ever since, now able to create his art full-time. Here he explains in a short clip his approach to making these felt paintings.
I was taken by the fluidity of the work, unfiltered and unafraid, a sense of improvised decisions guided by intuition, and occasionally “corrected” by removing misplaced sections through application of heat from the back (a great willingness to sacrifice all that labor-intensive placement.) This is one of the contrasts that I alluded to earlier, when remembering Yayoi Kusama‘s work: if you look at the dot patterns on her ubiquitous pumpkins there is nothing that is not pre-calculated to the millimeter, and precision reigns supreme.
The Japanese artist has freely talked about the traumatic events in her early years during a childhood burdened with parental abuse, and I have always wondered if there was an obsessive, even compulsive yearning to control environments with precision, despite their seemingly cheerful subjects.
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I had another association to Griffith’s approach with something much more closely related visually: Aboriginal Dot Art. A short overview of the history of Australia’s most famous art form can be found here. The almost 80.000 years old indigenous culture without a written language was ephemeral in its art. Some rock paintings survived, but most of the stories told and symbols transmitted were drawn on sand or bodies, quickly removed, meant to preserve ancient knowledge within tribal boundaries, kept secret from outsiders.
In 1971, dot paintings found their way into permanence for the first time, when Aboriginal people were encouraged by a teacher, Geoffrey Bardon, to draw and paint murals, then paint on canvas. Given the general visibility of the art, the need to preserve cultural symbols, it is speculated, led to heavy layering and over-dotting of the paintings as a way to hide and protect their sacred elements in the works that held special internal cultural value.
Yumari by Uta Uta Tjangala, 1981. Courtesy of the British Museum
One can see some similarities in the way animals are embedded in Griffith’s dotted worlds. What sets his work apart, though, is the fact that it has become increasingly three-dimensional. Let me first say: No matter how hard you try, photographs don’t do the work justice. I was really surprised how much looking at the real thing changed the perception – and the feeling the pieces elicited. There is sense of depth, even movement, of warmth from the materials used, that simply doesn’t come across in photographs.
This is particularly true for his approach to depicting his Columbia river section that is to be displayed at Maryhill’s Exquisite Corpse project come August 6th.
His felt creation of some aspect of the landscape are slowly taking shape, still under experimentation.
The individual pieces are stuffed with more hand rolled felt flecks, the manual labor going in to these creations intense.
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Xander Griffith is a burner. He has attended the annual Burning Man event in Nevada’s Black Desert as well as its regional off-shoots countless times. The open-air art installations and community celebration has grown into a metropolis, one week of the year, that admits close to 80.000 people, charging $575 for a main ticket per person and a $140 vehicle pass plus fees. Cheap it ain’t. Yet tickets were sold out 29 minutes (!) after online sales opened this year after a Covid hiatus. (There are more to be had across different sales venues until August.)
The experience is clearly one that people yearn for, and that enriches them in so many ways that they live with the costs, economically as well as pragmatically: you have to bring everything in (15 gallons of water per day per person included) and cart everything out from an environment that has above 100 degrees during the days and is cold at night. Sustainability is writ large, and requires effort, particularly given that so many art installations are burned to the ground by the end of the week, and so many participants arrive by plane and endless car rides.
What draws so many artists to Burning Man is an environment that has yet to find its match. The folks at the Smithsonian tried to expose this to a larger public with an exhibit about Burning Man 4 years ago at the Renwick Gallery for Contemporary Craft. No Spectators: The Art of Burning Man explained it this way: for one, the scale at which you can work in the desert location is unmatched. Just imagine, 55 ft pieces surrounding you everywhere. Secondly, the installations are complicated enough that they require a community to be set up, only a collective of artists/workers with diverse skills and backgrounds can make them happen. And finally many of the pieces have an interactive quality – their kinetic, light or sound components, their invitation to touch them or climb them, all expect and encourage an involvement of the viewer.
This last component is certainly deeply lodged in Griffith’s art – the pieces invite you to touch, to feel, to peruse. I also am willing to go out on a limb, that the spiritual aspects of the Burning Man culture have found their way into the souls of many of the participating artists – here is a short talk by the exhibition curator that partially speaks to that.
Of course we cannot look into souls, but Griffith’s work is currently used to soothe some agitated ones. PDX airport has recently opened a new sensory room which is available to passengers 24/7, designed to be a therapeutic space particularly for travelers living with anxiety or along the spectrum of autism. His felt designs might be calming, or they might spread joy. I certainly look forward to seeing what he comes up with for the installation at Maryhill, soul growing as we speak.
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And here is FELT, some sufficiently old psych-prog-rock album to match my mood and age that I listened to when I drove home, through Vancouver neighborhoods full of lush murals on neighborhood stores, a sun way too hot for March but perfect for a band from 1970s Alabama. “Felt” is, of course, not just the material used in the art described, but also the past tense for the verb “feel.” Feeling itself can have two meanings: to touch or have a sensory experience of something, or to perceive or experience something emotionally. The one-wonder album elicited the latter, Griffith’s art, on the other hand, invites both.
“…Make sure the spirits of these lands are respected and treated with goodwill. The land is a being who remembers everything. You will have to answer to your children, and their children, and theirs— The red shimmer of remembering will compel you up the night to walk the perimeter of truth for understanding….” – Joy Harjo – Excerpt from Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings (2015)
Analee Fuentes (Mexican-American) Sockeye Salmon, Spawning Oil on Canvas
Joy Harjo, a Musckogee Creek Nation member and 23rd Poet Laureate of the U.S., urged us in a recent collection of poems, Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings, to assess our place in the world, to mind our obligations derived from history, and to fulfill our duty to “speak in the language of justice.”
Celilo, Never Silenced, the remarkable inaugural art exhibition at the newly opened Patricia Reser Center for the Arts in Beaverton, provides memory aides that will help us to “walk the perimeter of truth,” as Harjo phrases it, perhaps the first step in the direction of justice.
What was Celilo? Who were the people displaced by a U.S. governmental decision to dam up a river that provided existential, spiritual and cultural essentials at Celilo falls where salmon fishing and concomitant trade meetings for the Pacific Northwest tribes happened since time immemorial? As I wrote before in OregonArtsWatch, the fates of salmon and the Northwest tribes were intertwined and received an immeasurable blow when the Dalles dam was constructed in 1957. The dam inundated the upstream Celilo Falls and Celilo village, the largest trading center for salmon, with scant compensation for the loss. Subpar housing was built only for a few permanent residents of the village who were displaced, ignoring all those tribal members who lived on reservations but regularly came to Celilo to fish and trade. It took until 2005 to start building the promised structures and no serious reparations have been paid for the immense loss of livelihoods that depend on salmon fishing.
Sara Siestreem (Hanis Coos / Confederated Tribes of Coos / Lower Umpqua / Siuslaw) Disasters of Man Acrylic, Graphite, China Marker, Color Pencil on BFK
I honestly have no idea how many people in Oregon, if approached on the street, would know this history or be aware of its implications. I wager that for most of us there will be few associations, negative or positive. For Pacific Northwest tribes, on the other hand, it was a rupture, endangering fish and river health alike, increasing conflict over ever scarcer resources, and ignoring the spiritual importance of salmon to tribal culture as much as the fact that food security was endangered with less protein available.
Richard Rowland (Hawaiian) Ahikaaroa Firebox Vase Anagama Wood-fired Vase
The Reser exhibition provides an educational starting point for a conversation about Native American losses and the conflict surrounding broken promises, undermined treaties, and the consequences for tribal members in the present and not just some hazy past. That said, the show is also a marvel in the way it collects and displays a wide range of artworks across diverse media, thoughtfully curated by gallery coordinator Karen De Benedetti, showcasing the resilience and power of contemporary tribal artists.
Gail Tremblay (Onondaga and Mi’kmaq) Stone Giants sleeping under the Bear StarAcrylic on Canvas
De Benedetti knows to give the work room to breathe instead of overstuffing the walls, has a keen eye, and is willing to take risks with selections that vary across styles and accessibility – and all that in a part-time position, which makes the results all the more impressive. Trained as an artist and with a wide repertoire of experiences across educational and exhibitory settings, including positions at two previous art centers started from scratch, she knows the ropes. She managed to compile a set of works that introduce us to a significant number and variety of current Native American artists, one more interesting than the next.
Don Bailey (Hupa tribal member, raised on the Hoopa Valley Reservation in California)Once upon a time on the Columbia Oil on Canvas
Bailey is new to me. I was completely taken with the interplay of ambiguous planes in the painting, as well as the double use of paddle/pestle in the lower right corner, the landscape shifting in and out of configurations belonging to either nature or man.
Fused and blown glass, ceramics, painting, linocut prints, sculpture, photography, archival footage, poetry – smartly arranged, all telling a story, from different perspectives, about a river, a place, a sacred fishing ground and displaced nations – rising in resilience with memory intact and now translated into art. The “perimeter of truth” of which Harjo speaks was really laid out across these walls.
Amply represented is is Lillian Pitt’s intricate work. A member of the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs/ Wasco/ Yakama, she and Rick Bartow, who was an enrolled member of the Mad River Band of Wiyot Indians, and whose work is also included, probably have the highest name recognition.
Lillian PittRiver Stick Indian Cast Crystal, Steel and Granite
Lillian PittAncestors Fused Glass
Lillian PittRiverGuardian Cast Crystal, Steele and Granite
Another familiar name is Joe Feddersen, a member of the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation (Okanagan and Arrow Lakes.) His sculptures exhibit an almost clinical serenity I so often associate with good blown glass, letting us perceive light through reflection and cast shadow, belying the insane skill required to produce such quiet elegance.
Joe Feddersen Fishtrap Blown Glass
Joe Feddersen Fishtrap V Blown Glass
There is archival photography capturing the history and contemporary photography by Joe Cantrell, Cherokee, raised in Cherokee County, Oklahoma who also contributed a driftwood sculpture.
Joe Cantrell Totem Enduring Resilience Driftwood
Joe Cantrell Walking Together Digital photograph on aluminum
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When you exit the gallery towards the main entrance hall, you step into a large space marked by wood, glass, steel and concrete with a motion-sensitive public sculpture of a dandelion shedding its seeds. Brian Libby, my colleague at OregonArtsWatch, wrote about the history, architecture and philanthropy of Patricia Reser regarding the building here.
Jacqueline Metz and Nancy ChewPuff Rearview Mirror Ball
The Reser Center has at its core a state-of-the-art theatre that has multi-purpose use and, come June, will be presenting Portland Chamber Orchestra’s production of a large-scale work by Nancy Ives, Celilo Falls: We were there. The chamber-music piece will be accompanied by text and storytelling by Ed Edmo (Shoshone-Bannock) and projected photographic images by Joe Cantrell (Cherokee) which explores the geologic and human history of Celilo Falls.
It never ceases to amaze me how a single individual with a vision, means and generosity, can set great things in motion.
Pah-Tu Pitt (Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs / Wasco / Yakama / Pitt River (Wintu))Salish Protector MaskCarved Yellow Cedar – Sean Gallagher (Asuruk, Inupiaq) Arctic Goose TranscendenceAcrylic on Canvas
When you walk upstairs you enter a space with a small gallery for emerging artists, which is as light-filled, with giant windows, as the first-floor space that abuts the street. On all levels, the outside is invited in, an openness towards and desire to merge with the community – which is by all reports what the new arts center is all about. Chris Ayzoukian, the Reser’s director, wants to celebrate the different cultures in the community and provide a platform that gives diverse artists a voice with this performing arts center. The building, which makes the inside visible wherever possible, reflects that goal. At the same time, the neighborhood is reflected in the glass of several of the gallery works, including one by Jonnel Covault, also new to me.
Jonnel CovaultUndamned Linocut Print
Rick Bartow (Mad River Band of Wiyot Indians,)Fall Hawk IMonotype
Covault’s linocuts capture the landscape in precise and elegant ways, walking a shifting line between abstract patterns and the occasional hyper-representation, often discovered only when you look closely.
Jonnel CovaultThe Powers that BeLinocut Print
Jonnel Covault Over the Fall Linocut Print
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Walking around the Reser, art gallery and building alike, I was thinking back to my last visit to The Whitney for the Biennial in 2019. If you imagine a portion of the NYC’s museum for contemporary art, condensed to an elongated miniature block and plopped down in Beaverton, you might find some similarities.
Whitney Museum of Contemporary Art upper left; the rest is The Reser.
Yes, a different world, a different league, but comparable in a shared thematic focus on inclusion of diverse constituencies. Both institutions are partly trying to use art to help us understand, in light of a sometimes violent history, who we and who others are and who we want to be. All of which includes an acknowledgement that there is often a separation between co-existing cultures, driven on one side by anything from racism to ignorance to fleeting guilt-tinged hesitancy to engage in conversation, met potentially by historically justified distrust and desire for inward protection on the other side.
I had written about the Whitney’s approach in 2019 here.
And this is where the power of the exhibition kicks in: demonstrating the brutal division between those of us who are clueless about what many of the artworks imply, and those who get it in the blink of an eye, being familiar with the expressed contents via the reality of one’s daily existence. We might share the same space, in world and museum alike, but we surely do not share a language or the experiences eventually captured by that language when it relates to race, gender, disability, and access.
I tried to explore a possible bridging between worlds by photographing NYC street-art found in Harlem and Bushwick, the East Village and Williamsburg, communal expressions of the issues at the center of the museum pieces, a call and response between cultures.
This year’s Biennial at the Whitney, opening in April, is titled Quiet as it’s kept, addressing our desire to look away from the harm we cause or have experienced, keep it secret and silent, no matter how much trauma ensued. The current Reser exhibition proudly defies keeping it quiet. Like all good art and education, it raises questions, sometimes uncomfortably so, and provides a toolbox so that we ourselves can explore potential answers. In this context it is helpful that there is support through organizations that have a history of engaging in dialogue.
One of those partners is the Confluence Project. The community-based non-profit presents indigenous voices to connect to the ecology, history and culture of the Columbia River System. Besides educational programs – here and here are some about Celilo – there are art landscapes that link present and past, open to be explored by all. One of my favorites is easily reached in the Sandy River Delta. Maya Lin’s bird blind, located at 1000 Acres park, was constructed with black locust, an invasive species to the Northwest. Its use after removal from the landscape underlines the commitment to sustainability. The wooden slats tell the names and current status of 134 species Lewis and Clark noted on their westward journey. As Harjo suggests, the land might be a being that remembers everything. This land art helps us to remember as well.
Make your way to the Reser first, though. Parking is easy with an adjacent structure, (butterfly-adorned, no less, with threatened Fender’s Blues.)
Will Schlough GatherPainted Aluminum
The Max station is a stone’s throw away, and outside seating is available around the arts center to take a break and enjoy spring temperatures, public art,
Jason Klimoski and Lesley Chang, StudioKCARibbon Concrete, steel, LED
and a bit of reclaimed duck pond. The Westside is lucky to have a new, important destination. Really, we all are.
Artists talks are coming up. More inclusive exhibitions are being planned. Go check it out!
Saturday, April 30th | 2:00 pm – Artist talk with Joe Cantrell, Ed Edmo & Nancy Ives
Saturday, May 14th / Artist talk with Analeee Fuentes & Richard Rowland
Saturday May 22nd / Artist talk with Lillian Pitt, Sara Siestreem, Greg Archuletta and Greg Robinson More details to come:www.thereser.org
Gallery exhibit from March 1 – June 5, 2022. Gallery hours are Wednesday-Saturday 10 am-6 pm.
Patricia Reser Center for the Arts, 12625 SW Crescent St, Beaverton, OR 97005
The good news about being old and decrepit is that you are eligible for a second Covid booster shot.
The bad news is that your brain is mush for about 24 hours, and so can only marvel at the strange tidbits picked up from the daily Twitter deluge.
Good news: if you don’t want to look at my bird brain’s gleanings, look at the bird art instead which I photographed while waiting at the clinic after the booster, so the nurse could be sure I didn’t keel over…
Artist plaque said: Susan Freedman, Beaverton, OR. Here is the website I found. I figured I’d compliment the encaustics with photographs of the real thing, or whatever I assumed the birds to be.
Other news? Here are the things I encounter when doing my morning survey of incoming oddities. You can see why my brain is starting to accelerate towards entropy. Evidence: I thought some of these pretty useless facts were amusing.
German word of the day is Wohlstandsverwahrlosung, a state of decay that results from having it too easy for too long, leading you to selfishly compare your own petty grievances &mediocre accomplishments to the pain &struggle of people who know the meaning of real problems.
An example of what celebrities can do for Ukraine: Today David Beckham handed over his Instagram account with 71 million followers to Iryna, a Ukrainian doctor from Kharkiv who is caring for Ukrainian civilians under Russian attack.
Tell me a simple fact that simply blows your mind. For example, every ‘c’ in Pacific Ocean is pronounced differently. Your turn.
The English language makes no sense. You can understand it through tough thorough thought though.
Samurai were officially abolished in 1867. The first ever fax machine was invented in 1843 and Abraham Lincoln was assassinated in 1865. Which means there was a 22 year window in which a Samurai could have sent a fax to Abraham Lincoln.
Cleopatra lived closer to the launch of the iPhone than she did to the building of the pyramids at Giza.
Joe Biden was born closer to Lincoln’s presidency than his own. 1865 Lincoln’s presidency ends…1942 President Biden is born…and President Biden is now 79. Yes indeed, it’s true.
And finally after yesterday’s Hearings, that would have been disgusting even with an intact brain:
And that is what the News reports “captured” in the everlasting desire to “both-sides…”
I guess mine is not the only birdbrain this week….. so what. (Title of today’s music as well…)
Mightily wove they the web of fate, While Bralund’s towns were trembling all; And there the golden threads they wove, And in the moon’s hall fast they made them. ” – Poetic Edda (Helgakviða Hundingsbana I)
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Why on earth was I thinking about a bit of Norse poetry while visiting with Mexican artists Laura and Francisco Bautista? Not as far fetched as one might think when you consider I was standing in a studio filled with spinning wheel and looms: the three Norns in Norse mythology are spinning and weaving the thread of life, deciding your good or bad fate and the length of your existence irrevocably at birth.
My vivid imagination as a German child, with Richard Wagner’s Norns singing in the Ring of the Nibelungen as a frequent backdrop, had not served me well. Thread of life, perhaps short, being banged by a beater on the loom? Goosebumps ensued. Luckily for me, that negative association disappeared while looking at the art in front of me and encountering the warmth and sensibilities of the contemporary weavers who had invited me into their home. Their weaving is nourishing souls, rather than crushing them.
Francisco and Laura Bautista
This was my second studio visit for the Exquisite Gorge II project, offered by Maryhill Museum of Art. To repeat, thirteen fabric artists, in collaboration with community partners, will portray an assigned section of the Columbia river in three dimensional form on frames. The sections will be linked in the end, forming an “Exquisite Corpse” during a public outdoor celebration at the museum in August.
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THE EXQUISITE GORGE PROJECTII
“…a collaborative fiber arts project featuring 13 artists working with communities along a 220-mile stretch of the Columbia River from the Willamette River confluence to the Snake River confluence. The project, again initiated by Maryhill Museum of Art and following the original one by printmakers in 2019, takes inspiration from the Surrealist art practice known as exquisite corpse. In the most well-known exquisite corpse drawing game, participants took turns creating sections of a body on a piece of paper folded to hide each successive contribution. When unfolded, the whole body is revealed. In the case of The Exquisite Gorge Project II, the Columbia River will become the ‘body’ that unifies the collaboration between artists and communities, revealing a flowing 66-foot work that tells 10 conceptual stories of the Columbia River and its people.”
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Laura and Francisco Bautista came to the U.S. in 2003, from a small town near Oaxaca, Teotitlán del Valle, a center for traditional weaving to this day. The valley was home to the Zapotec (one of the largest indigenous groups), weavers since 300 B.C.E. Archeological evidence from Mesoamerica suggests that weavers used backstrap looms as early as 1500 B.C.E.
Wool—in Zapotec quicha pecoxilla or quichaxilla – sheep and treadle looms were introduced by the Spanish conquistadores during the 16th century, at the same time that they brought devastating disease, decimating the indigenous ethnicities by horrifying numbers. The wool was spun with indigenous spindles, or a manually turned wheel. Other fibers that had been used included the Agave-based fiber Ixtle (quéeche in Zapotec), cotton (in Zapotec xilla) and in rare cases, silk.
All natural dyestuff dyed wool
The area developed a distinctive weaving tradition, which is claimed to be among the finest and most dynamic form of tapestry art in contemporary Latin America. (Many of today’s facts were learned from this book.) There appear to be a number of technical features that distinguish Teotitlán weavings from other Mexican tapestries. These features include the woolen warp, the two bundled warps at each selvage, the warp ends twisted together in groups, and the warp ends left uncut at one end of the web. (Honestly, I have no clue what that would look like, but I thought the community of readers who weave or are interested in weaving history might appreciate the detail.) What I do understand is the effects of historical developments on traditional practices, since the good and the bad often combine, for many mediums alike.
Tension on the loom is the secret to successful weaving
Until the 1950s, the Bautistas’ village had an economy based on subsistence agriculture. Weavings were produced for the local markets and for personal use. Enormous change happened with two external events: for one, the PanAmerican Highway was completed and tourism started to flow into Oaxaca and the surrounding regions, and with it an insatiable appetite for artifacts to bring home as a souvenir. Secondly, the U.S. Bracero program allowed millions of Mexican men to work legally in the United States on short-term labor contracts, between 1942 and 1964, an exploitation of cheap labor for the States, but a chance to send some direly needed funds home for the migrant workers. The tourist demand for weavings encouraged many of the people staying at home to start weaving full time.
The good part about these developments was that it helped centuries of knowledge and specific patterns to be handed down hereditary lines, encouraging families to engage ever more with the craft, since weavers were now in short supply given the rising demand. The not so good part was the introduction of more commercial demands in terms of mass production, leading to a drop in quality for many products, and, in particular, the use of synthetic dyes, since it was too costly and time-consuming to stick with the plant-based dye techniques. Even that, in some ways, might have been a change for the good because it created economic opportunities for whole towns and villages that had been previously foreclosed, in a state that is the poorest in all of Mexico and suffered much with increasing drought, deforestation, overgrazing and soil erosion in terms of agricultural earnings.
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The three nordic Norns called Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, represent the past, the present and the future, respectively, holding the world’s collective memories according to legend. Laura and Francisco Bautista live and work in the present, but honor the past in their treatment of the materials and the weaving techniques they apply.
The right post of the loom, which was brought with them from Mexico, has all the locations named where they have taken it for exhibits, fairs, and teaching occasions.
The wool is washed and then dyed with exclusively natural colorants. The remarkable biodiversity of the Bautistas’ homeland is reflected in the many plants and other natural dyestuffs that is used for dyeing the wool. The couple uses Marigold, Tansy weed, black and green walnuts, and Indigo, among others, all available here. In general, many of the ancient dyestuffs relied on plants found in tropical regions. Yellow, oranges, purple, browns were all collected from species that we don’t necessarily find in our own latitudes. Blue is derived from an indigo plant called Indigoferasuffructicosa, native to the Americas (in Europe blue was derived from woad.) Families would hand down their secrets about useful plants for developing special shades. Marigold petals, añil, pomegranate zest, seed pods, moss and pecan could be looked together, and slight manipulation of pH values would generate different colors.
Some of the botanical species used for dyeing.
Red was, as it turns out, of utmost importance. It was and still is most often extracted from the cochineal insect that lives on the opuntia cactus. The coloring agent is carminic acid, a hydroxyanthraquinone. It produces a bright red liquid and was a prized commodity (red gold!), exported by New Spain to Europe as a profitable trade for the conquistadores. Until the 19th century, that is, when Spain prohibited further imports of cochineal in order to protect their own newly established production farms in Spain. The economy of the Oaxaca region suffered a hard blow.
Someone else looking for cochineal…wrong cactus, alas.
These days there are a few ranches in the Mexican region that grow the insects, providing the colorants for weavers and to international importers who use it to color food. (In case you wondered: here is where all of us are regularly ingesting the output of these critters: products containing cochineal extract include Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice, Dole Diced Peaches, Strawberry Gel Fruit Bowl, Sobe Lizard Fuel, Tropicana Orange Strawberry Juice with Calcium, and Robitussin Honey Calmers Natural Throat Drops. (Ref.)
If acidic liquid is added to the cochineal fragments, the red dye appears. Add some base, and the pH value changes, turning it in this case purple.
There is an embrace of the past, then, in preserving the recipes for and application of these colorants. There is also the preservation of patterns, a flourish of traditional designs and motifs, often with mythical references or other symbolism referring to the Zapotec’s folkloric tradition. There is in addition the pride in being part of a generational chain of hereditary weavers. Francisco Bautista is a fourth generation artisan, now teaching the fifth: his two teenage children, Cinthya and David, who have taken to the looms with curiosity, passion and talent. Cultural identity is successfully transmitted. The family is tightly knit, and they often sit together to brainstorm about new designs or ways to capture their desired expression in woven tapestry.
The Bautista “signature” is 4 dots – they symbolize the seeds of life, 4 generations of hereditary weavers, and drops of water.
Classic weaving pattern with grecas stripes and the “eye of God” in center, the configuration often compared to butterflies symbolizing souls.
Francisco Bautista is a patient man. His temperament allows him to work figuratively (extremely complex pattern weaving) and also makes him a highly successful teacher.
iPhone photo of his last workshop for beginning weavers -with a group of very proud students
Fringe work done with manual rolling for every single piece.
Shaving the weaving with a blade; Lou Palermo, Maryhill’s Curator of Education, discussing the Exquisite Gorge II lay-out with the artist.
Laura Bautista, by her own words always seeking novelty and pursuing diverse approaches favoring highly mathematical, geometric motifs, is in herself an emblem of the future. Until about 50 years ago or so, the Zapotec women of the region were not allowed to weave. They were involved in the task of washing, preparing, carding and spinning the wool, as well as running the households, while the men stood at the loom, introducing their male heirs to all things related to the art from an early age. With the exodus of men migrating North, women were slowly integrated into the weaving world. By now there are all female cooperatives of women who are widowed, divorced, single or otherwise interested in doing collaborative work, who have become part of the artisan landscape of the Oaxaca valley.
One of Laura’s favorite pillow casings – note how saturated and more pastel colors seamlessly flow into each other.
Laura is thrilled that she learned how to weave, since the full time job these days allows her to stay at home, be there for her children, assign her own working hours and listen to music while weaving which she loves. During the last seven years the couple has developed a style that is reminiscent of the 1920’s Bauhaus weaving that was equally innovative at its time. A friend pointed out similarities to an art movement they had never heard of, and provided books to prove how beauty self-generates across generations and geographies, patterns not necessarily culturally defined.
In some funny twist, of course, the Bauhaus weaving department was meant to absorb women students and keep them away from the other, traditionally male dominated domains including painting, in contrast to the exclusion of Zapotec women from the craft. Some of the Bauhaus women signed up grudgingly, thinking it was an inferior domain, but swiftly realized the possibilities of the medium. Here is a link to one of the most successful students, Anni Albers, from a recent retrospective at the Tate Modern.
And here is a short summary of the career of master weaver Gunta Stölzl, who headed the Bauhaus weaving department.
“Possibly no other form of (artistic) craftwork requires as much concentration, mathematical skills and strength in intuition as weaving.”
Thinking once more about the Norns: they were interpreted, certainly in the Ring cycle, as a form of intuitive and visionary awareness. The same can be said for the Bautistas’ work. They intuitively reposition the familiar into something creative new vision.
The artists are pattern masters, willing to experiment, pursuing reinterpretation of old patterns into new visions, developing designs with both, new motifs and modern color combinations that express their own, individual artistry. They don’t adhere to a master pattern that governs strict preservation of the past and prohibits change. Traditions have continually evolved in Zapotec history, and luckily that continues to be the case.
A tapestry for the American Embassy in Mexico City, I believe
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I was driving back from their studio to Portland during late afternoon, light slowly diminishing. The Bautistas’ house is situated in the middle of expansive tree farms near Sandy, OR, then lit by a low sun, greens popping as so often at dusk. The endless rows of trees, geometric parallels, reminded me of the striped weavings. The little conical shapes of small conifers, interspersing the rows, or forming rows themselves, looked like a pattern of dots, strewn to the horizon. The weavers seem to live in a natural tapestry, some higher order pattern-master’s sleight of hand. So much beauty, in studio and surround alike. My heart sang. Norns, you may chime in!
“Most of us, no matter what we say, are walking in the dark, whistling in the dark. Nobody knows what is going to happen to him from one moment to the next, or how one will bear it. This is irreducible. And it’s true of everybody. Now, it is true that the nature of society is to create, among its citizens, an illusion of safety; but it is also absolutely true that the safety is always necessarily an illusion. Artists are here to disturb the peace.” – James Baldwin “An interview with James Baldwin” (1961), in Conversations with James Baldwin.
It seemed counterintuitive, no, odd, really, that my first reaction to a piece of gorgeous, intense, riveting music were thoughts about visibility. After all, what we perceive is more likely associated with visual media, film in particular, and yet here I was surrounded by sound, listening to the orchestra dress rehearsal of The Central Park Five, Portland Opera‘s upcoming production.
Left to right: Donovan Singletary as Antron McCray, Bernard Holcomb as Kevin Richardson,Victor Ryan Robertson as Raymond Santana, Aubrey Allicock as Yusef Salaam, Nathan Granner as Kharey/Korey Wise.
Maybe it’s not so odd after all, when you consider that truly good art makes things visible that are otherwise hidden beneath the mere consideration of images or words. Maybe it is the emotional reaction that music in particular can stir up that connects you to what lies invisible under the surface of narratives. This might be particularly true for stories that you intellectually witnessed in your own time, and thus think you have a grasp on, until art opens up a different dimension previously foreclosed, disturbing the peace. That said, the video projections, the lighting and two opera stages on top of each other, echoing separate worlds and power hierarchies, visually helped intensify the emotions.
On top stage: Hannah Ludwig as the Assistant District Attorney, Johnathan McCullough as The Masque (he plays numerous white characters across the opera.)On Bottom stage, left to right: Aubrey Allicock as Yusef Salaam, Nathan Granner as Kharey/Korey Wise, Bernard Holcomb as Kevin Richardson, Donovan Singletary as Antron McCray.
The Pulitzer Prize winning opera composed by Anthony Davis (Libretto by Richard Wesley, conducted by Kazem Abdullah,stage directed by Nataki Garrett) recounts the horrifying 1989 tale of innocent youths (aged 14-16) accused and convicted of beating and raping a woman in New York’s Central Park, after they falsely confessed but then recanted, with no physical evidence connecting them to the crime. The story focusses on the many aspects that led to this outcome, with lasting damage done to the defendants despite the eventual vacating of the verdict, when DNA evidence and the confession by the true perpetrator exonerated them. The case made salient the racial inequities in our criminal justice system. The $40 million settlement with the state of New York did not buy back the time lost and sorrow inflicted on kids (and their families and communities) as young as 14 years of age, spending years incarcerated (the one 16 year-old 13 years in adult prison!) for a crime they did not commit.
For me, the music captured the tension inherent in an adversarial system built into the criminal courts, the racism both structural and individually applied that so often erupts in cases of violence against white women. It also echoed the preconceived assumptions about crime-prone black youth, and the career ramifications for police and DAs as well as aspiring politicians like a former president who involved himself in fashioning public opinion in what turned out to be a stepping stone to an election campaign.
Christian Sanders as Donald Trump
The music conveyed the fear, the paralysis, the disbelief of the victims of procedural malfeasance. For me, it made the legal and social injustice of this case visible at a gut level, allowing us for a short while to walk in the defendants’ shoes.
Others at OregonArtsWatch, who know much more about music than I do, will write about the Portland Opera production in coming weeks. What I want to do today instead, is to make visible, from my perspective as a former lawyer and psychologist, how this is not an isolated case, however brilliantly captured by Davis and the musicians who moved me so. Let’s look at both the myths surrounding false confessions and the general processes that can create them in ways they affect criminal trials every single day.
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I believe that many of us share deep concerns about our legal system. The U.S. has 5% of the world’s population, but 20% of the world’s prisoners, a huge number especially when we consider the horrific circumstances that define incarceration (Ref.). In addition, black Americans are incarcerated 5 times the rate of white Americans (Ref.). Blacks constitute roughly 14% of the U.S. population, while in some states they constitute over half of the prison populations. You have to worry about what these numbers mean.
Moreover, there is no question that the legal system routinely makes horrible mistakes, including getting the basic facts wrong, as the Innocence Project has proven with the high numbers of DNA exonerations they have brought about. Specifically, scholars talk about myths, that pervade and erode the legal system. One example includes the so-called sexual assault myth – the idea that the prevalent form of sexual assault involves a stranger leaping out of the darkness. The reality is instead that sexual assaults are vastly more likely from someone you know. Given that the American legal system counts on the common sense of jury members to reach a sensible verdict, we have a problem if some common sense beliefs are mistaken and rely on myths: it can have tragic consequences in the legal system and elsewhere.
Left to right:Elliott Paige as Antron’s Father, Babatunde Akinboboye as Raymond’s Father, Ibidunni Ojikutuas Antron’s Mother, Jazmine Olwalia as Sharonne Salaam.
A different set of myths concerns confession evidence, starting with the widely held belief that false confessions are quite rare. And here the common sense appeal is powerful. After all, why would someone confess to a crime, and invite punishment, for something they didn’t do? As a related myth people assume a false confession would only be produced by someone who is mentally ill or attention-seeking, or someone who has been physically coerced (yelled at, threatened, beaten) by the police. (Ref.)
All texts are photographs of the supertext panels that displayed the words that were sung. Surtitles were written and produced by Ethan Cope Richter.
There is no doubt though that these myths are myths. For example a national database of exoneration cases shows us that 13% of the cases involve confessions we now know to be false (another take by the Innocence Project that relies on DNA evidence only, claims the rate may be as high as 1 in 4.) The numbers get worse, much worse, if we zoom in for a closer look. In the same database, among exonerated juveniles, 36% involved confessions we now know were false, and if you look at the youngest juveniles in this data set (12-15 years old) 57% confessed to a crime they did not commit. These were, of course, the ages of 4 of the Central Park Five. Kids this age are less mature, more impulsive than older ones, they are more gullible, and they don’t always think about long-term consequences.
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How is it possible that there are so many false confessions? Let’s look at the interrogation process. Police have become remarkably skilled in what scientists call “psychological coercion” (note not physical coercion). This process involves many specific levers, often used in a back and forth combination, but there are three overarching themes. First, no matter how many times the suspect denies the crime, these denials are refused, ignored, or rejected, or even sneered at. The message to the suspect therefore is that not confessing is not an option. To drive this point home, this process can stretch out over two or four or ten hours, leaving the exhausted suspect too tired to resist, and eager to do anything to escape the interrogation room. To up the pressure, police do most of the talking, set the agenda for topics of conversation, decide when breaks are happening and in classic settings – small room, no windows, no clock, no distractions, uncomfortable chair – they keep at it to maximize confrontation.
The second broad theme involves multiple efforts toward minimizing the cost of confessing in the eyes of the suspect. This includes offering the suspect a variety of excuses, “You were drunk, you were under stress, you just ran with the crowd, they asked for it!” and with these excuses the suspect might think s/he is confessing to something that is understandable and not so blameworthy. Often this minimizing is established via presenting a contrast: “We know you are not a terrible person; you’re just a guy who made a mistake.” The police also puff up whatever evidence they have (including utterly false claim about the evidence which they are allowed to make since they are legally allowed to lie in interrogations). The message to the suspect here is that they are likely to be convicted with or without a confession, so that confession costs them nothing.
The third major goal involves a package of strategies that suggest benefits from confessing. Police are not allowed to promise leniency, but they are wonderfully skillful at hinting at leniency along the lines of “How do you think the prosecutor is going to react when she sees that you stonewalled us? And how do you think she would react if you were open and took ownership of what you had done?” Interrogators also suggest psychological benefit from a confession once they have determined the defendant’s allegiances: they lean on religion, if they think you’re religious. They stress the aspects of healing of closure for the assault victim if they think you have some loyalty to the victim. They point at the responsibility towards the community if they believe you have strong links there.
Do these levers work every time? Surely not, but they work often enough that false confessions do happen and that is profoundly troubling because a confession of almost any sort virtually guarantees a conviction.
Johnathan McCullough as The Masque, Hannah Ludwig as the Assistant District Attorney
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Why do police engage in these tactics? For one, and the data are clear on that, because they do result in factually true confessions a large percentage of the time. But many interrogators also deny the possibility that false ones are happening at all or are happening with regularity, or they are willing to tolerate this error. Secondly, police are explicitly trained to do interrogations in this way with many training programs across the country based on what is called the Reid Technique which instructs in the above-listed application of tools: coercion, situational control, minimizing the cost and maximizing the potential benefits of confessions in their communications to suspects. Even if officers have not had formal training, they learn about these tools from colleagues who had and so continue in this vein.
Police understand that their interrogation techniques are confrontational, often a determined push to confirm their suspicions by alternating carrots and sticks, and even coercive. Police believe, though, that we are all protected by two safeguards. As it turns out, both of the safeguards turn out to be hollow. One safeguard relies on the idea that police can figure out before the interrogation who is guilty and who is not, and therefore they aggressively push for confessions only with presumed guilty suspects. There is, unfortunately, overwhelming evidence, that most police officers when trying to decide who is lying to them and who is not, perform at a level only marginally better than a coin toss. This guarantees that they will use coercive techniques with people that they have wrongly decided are liars.
The other supposed safeguard comes after the interrogation, when police seek further evidence that will corroborate, or perhaps undermine, the confession. Here we run into a problem called confirmation bias, with the essential notion being that, once you have a confession, it biases what other evidence you look for and how you interpret what you encounter. The result? A false confession can invite the collection of further evidence that seems to support it, so that bad evidence leads to more bad evidence.
Babatunde Akinboboye as Matias Reyes, left, Nathan Granner as Kharey/Korey Wise, right.
What can be done about this, especially given how these issues interweave with strong patterns of racial bias? That bias manifests itself in some officers’ willingness to assume a black suspect is likely guilty and proceed accordingly in the interrogation. That bias is also evident in the power dynamic of an interrogation, with a police officer relying on social distribution of power to bully a black youth. There is also a tendency for interrogators (as well as teachers and school administrators) to bear in mind that a white kid is a kid, while failing to make the same crucial adjustments when interacting with a young person of color. Black girls are seen as more adult than white girls at almost all stages of development. Black boys are constantly judged to be older than they are (adultification) and, importantly, the older they seem, the more we consider them culpable. (Ref.) Finally, given the economic inequities in our country, a white suspect is far more likely to have decently paid legal representation compared to the resources available to POC.
Where does this leave us? Here, the importance of art. Narratives and documentaries can inform. Art can move, often in a lasting way. Will it move police officers to change their practices? Perhaps not. Will it shift legislatives votes? Likely not. But we’re at a place in which ordinary citizens can have extraordinary power. In a criminal trial, jury verdicts must be unanimous. (Ironically, this has been true in 48 states for years; it is only recently true in Oregon and Louisiana). On a jury, a single citizen empowered by this production, remembering his or her reaction to the music and the story it conveyed, introduced to reality rather than clinging to myth, can hold firm and may be the stalwart obstacle to decisions resting on false beliefs and leading to catastrophically wrong verdicts. Portland Opera’s choice of a timely and important piece of contemporary music, beautifully staged and performed, might have long lasting consequences and not just providing us with a riveting night at the opera. Art empowering justice
I started with a James Baldwin quote, so let me also end with one:
“Well, if one really wishes to know how justice is administered in a country, one does not question the policemen, the lawyers, the judges, or the protected members of the middle class. One goesto the unprotected—those, precisely, who need the law’s protection most!—and listens to their testimony. Ask any Mexican, any Puerto Rican, any black man, any poor person—ask the wretched how they fare in the halls of justice, and then you will know, not whether or not the country is just, but whether or not it has any love for justice, or any concept of it. It is certain, in any case, that ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.” – James Baldwin – No Name in the Street.
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Portland Opera presents:
The Central Park Five
Composed by Anthony Davis Libretto by Richard Wesley
