Installation Art

Research installations by artists such as Kiki Smith, Bill Viola, or Jenny Holzer. Choose one of their installations and answer the following: How does the artwork interact with the physical space it occupies? Argue for or against the principles of installation art. If you are unfamiliar with the principles of installation art, do some research!

Jenny Holzer's "Projections" series consist of text projected onto very large surfaces — buildings, bridges, ships, cargo containers, etc. Because of the nature of the artwork -- projected light -- and their scale -- gigantic -- they're very limited as to where they can be effectively displayed. While the text would no doubt be impactful at smaller scales, the size really does add to the power of the artwork, and dramatically increases the impact. In addition, the limits of projection mean that the artwork can only be effectively displayed at night, and preferably in a location without too much ambient external light. Since the light "wraps" around irregularities in the surface it's being projected on, larger smooth areas would be ideal... but that combination of specifications would severely limit the locations the art could be shown, so some compromises have to be made.

For her Boston 2010 projection, an interesting series of decisions had to be made. The projection was made onto the outside of the Institute of Contemporary Art -- a large building with some flat surfaces, some stairs and bleachers, a lot of mirrored glass, and located on the waterfront.  This combination meant that the projected images were reflected, passed through some areas into others, wrapped oddly around the irregular stairs and bleachers, etc.  This combination made it difficult to read some of the type at times, but simultaneously added a fascinating multi-dimensional aspect to the moving type, especially as the scrolling type would move in multiple simultaneous directions -- the type would scroll up, and move up where it was projected on the partly-mirrored glass of the side of the ICA, would move away where it passed through that glass and was projected onto the ceiling inside, would move in a staggered progression as it moved scrolled up the bleachers, and would move downward where it was reflected in the harbor's water.

The text was readable, so that aspect of the art didn't lose its impact; but the probably-unexpected multidimensional movement added another level to the piece.

Installation art sometimes works with and sometimes fights against the space where it's installed. If too much care is taken in making sure that the piece works perfectly in its space, it sometimes feels very sterile and lifeless; if the conflicts are too great, the chaos can overpower the art.   For this particular installation, the balance seems just right -- the technical aspects work in the space, and the unexpected conflicts actually enhance it rather than overpowering it.

Vanessa German Bitter Root — exhibition details

Vanessa German's Bitter Root exhibition in the Northcutt Steele gallery is well planned for traffic flow; almost everywhere is either open enough for easy flow, or closed off enough to prevent all but the most obstinately obtuse viewer to avoid the narrow areas.  There may be one slightly-narrow space here:

... but it's easily wide enough for a single viewer to pass by without issue.  (Two people, or one person in a wheelchair, might be a bit less comfortable.)

The exhibition materials are mostly durable; the fabric wall pieces might be susceptible to tearing or other damage, but the way they're displayed would rule out almost all situations where they might be damaged (other than a deliberate act, but very little can prevent that.)  Some parts of the sculptures might be damageable as well -- particularly the hanging "beads", which could be damaged or torn off.  Again, however, they're not readily exposed to non-deliberate damage.  The clear labels used appear to be durable enough to last for the duration of the show.

The reading heights of the labels are comfortable, for the most part.  On a few of the pieces, the labels — on the pedestals — are quite low, but not uncomfortably so.  On one piece, the label may be too high for a wheelchair-confined person to read:

There don't appear to be any really dangerous aspects in the exhibit; the base of one sculpture extends beyond its pedestal, but not so much so as to be a serious concern.  With the possible exception of the aforementioned label, all aspects of the exhibit appear to be accessible to a disabled viewer.

The typography is easy to read; Gill Sans (or an equivalent font) is always highly legible, and has enough stroke variance between weights to easily discern bold and light weights for emphasis.

The fonts and their usage complement the work well; a serif font would perhaps be too formal and staid for an emotionally dynamic exhibit like this, while a geometric sans serif might be too cold. A humanist sans serif strikes a good balance between formality and warmth.

There's a set of unifying elements between many of the works in the show.  First, the repeating pattern of red and white stripes, introduced by the flag as one enters the exhibit.  There are also repeating and/or visually-related elements in the sculptures — the fabric "beads", keys, mirrors, etc. — that enhance the flow of continuity.

The exhibit's over message is one of hope, of using the powers of love and creativity to overcome the harshness of centuries of institutionalized racism and oppression.

There's a subtle but definite sequence enforced by the large piece isolated in the linoleum-floored area; its position farthest from the entrance, the large space around it, and the size of the work in that space, gives it a very great presence, and draws the viewer to it as a climax of the show. But while that flow is there, the subtlety — and the nature of the work, with many small eye-catching details — can easily derail a viewer from following the path, without losing anything by doing so.

If there's a weakness in the sequential view, it's the placement of the two hanging fabric pieces on the walls on either side of the large isolated sculpture; the monumental presence of that piece might distract viewers enough that they might not notice the quieter, more subtle works on the walls.  That's also exacerbated by the light overall colors of those two pieces; they more easily disappear as a result.

For younger visitors, the most popular aspect might be the inherent wry humor in some of the work; for older visitors, they might find enjoyment in identifying some of the elements, which might be too old or obscure for younger visitors to recognize.  For both ages, there's a inherent sense of discomfort in dealing with racism that many people feel; at the same time, though, facing those unpleasant emotions, and recognizing the power and hope in the images, is the salient point of the exhibit.

Visitors can and probably should share their experiences of the art with others... but I suspect most won't. While the art does speak that message of hope, the discomfort of facing racism might silence many people.

If I could change anything in the gallery, my first choice would be the ceiling height; there are three distinct levels, all of which are too low, and the steps between the different heights are even more distracting.