Statement for the bronze plaque (or documentation in the museum)***
Everywhere we look, the common person and the environment are under attack. Global warming; crop failures; poverty and starvation; the disappearance of the middle class and as Americans, our civil rights; decaying economy, un-prosecuted bank fraud, and widespread job loss and foreclosures. The purpose of this project is to spell out the alarm of our collective situation and the threat to US society as we know it. “FIRE!” shocks the viewer as it telegraphs the alarm in Braille that can’t be felt, but only seen and read from a far enough perspective.
As artists, FIRE! directly affects us through cuts in arts funding and calls for censorship from extremists. Each of these situations, along with the disappearance of the middle class, the war on women, and widespread environmental crisis is its own seemingly out of control fire, spreading to each of the others until they are together a giant conflagration. There were warnings, but we as a society did not hear them in time to stop the damage. Perhaps it was understood, but unheeded, or maybe the messengers didn’t understand the full scope of it themselves. It’s difficult to see the big picture beyond individual daily concerns. As an unknown artist, and one with a disability that sometimes causes me to speak incoherently in public, I am used to being ignored. We were blind, and the message was writ too large and progressed too smoothly for us to read it. Now, the destruction is in full swing.
This project seeks to give those of us who have not been heard a voice, and to speak as well as we can for those who won’t have the opportunity. As such, there will be a performance for one of every ten polished circles, so that we can acknowledge that our stories are representative, but not a complete picture of the devastation our times have brought.
Even as the situation seems futile to so many, it is still our responsibility to speak out however we can. Art sparks controversy, and hopefully with it, change. Only through visible action against the status quo and the bearers of power can we hope to affect our own future.
The original design for the De Young’s façade was meant to patinate over time to imitate the surrounding landscape, and its patterning is a tone poem of trees. Fire is both feared and accepted as a natural part of that landscape, and plays a regular part in our lives here, from acres of national forest lands to the East Bay hills.
Yet even a completely burnt forest knows hope and renewal. Seedlings grow in the charred remains, and though it perhaps takes centuries, the forest heals. So will the De Young. As time passes, the polished areas will gradually repatinate, and someday the De Young will again look as if FIRE! was never there.
Text of my response to rejections from Silke Kellner of Herzog and De Meuron and Tim Burgard of the de Young Museum, with a copy sent to Julian Cox of the de Young Museum:
Dear Ms. Kellner-Mergenthaler and Mr. Burgard,
Thanks so much for your reply. I believe this is an important dialogue to have, particularly in the troubled times we live in. As I see it, here are several questions at play here:
Do the architects and the museum aspire for the building housing the de Young Museum to be a living, active force in the social and cultural life of the wider community?
Do the architects and the museum hope this building will be relevant to a wider audience, thereby both serving as a conduit for positive, peaceful political discourse while at the same time providing a window to art that the wider community might not otherwise be exposed to (particularly in this time of reduced art and art education funding)? Which leads me to ask:
Do the architects and the museum curators want to allow this building to become yet another art mausoleum, or are they interested in fostering the work of new and outsider (and in this case, disabled) artists? Do they recognize the validity and importance of the continuing conversation of what art is, particularly conceptual art in the tradition of Robert Rauschenberg's "Erased De Kooning Drawing" or architectural intervention work, such as the Guggenheim museum's 2010 exhibition, Contemplating the Void: Interventions in the Guggenheim Museum?
None of the changes I propose are permanent, as verified by Zahner's own chief engineer, Paul Martin. The performance of the process, as well as the performances in the Concourse, are but moments in time, the recordings of which will outlast the work itself, much like the better part of Andy Goldsworthy's work (which is prominently featured in and around the museum itself). By now, Goldsworthy is a household name, and would hardly be considered outside the art establishment. The "iconic" image of the museum isn't so much being damaged in reality as it is acting as a metaphor for social, environmental, and economic catastrophe. In doing so, the museum serves a purpose beyond simply acting as a repository for cultural objects and the philosophical concerns of the minority of the population who actively attend exhibitions and participate in the wider conversation about art.
In acknowledging the temporary nature of the proposed work, as well as the fact that it will begin to repatinate the moment the polishing is finished, the question then simply becomes one of the merits of the idea and the wider mission and relevance of art, museums, and cultural institutions as a whole. The building has always been questioned, fought over, etc., and by choosing to clad the museum in a surface that will change over time, I would think that the museum would want to explore work that asks people to re-imagine the building, the images of sunlight through trees on its surface, and the nature of change as it relates to structures implied to be permanent but which never are. A project such as this would bring renewed international attention to the museum, and would expose it to a wider audience, and a much more lively and varied conversation than simply letting it grow old slowly, without anyone noticing or questioning the process.
I would also like the reviewers of the project to consider whether, in another time and place, they would have wanted to be remembered as the people with the vision and foresight to approve Christo wrapping the Reichstag, or the officials who dismissed the idea out of hand. History making work is often risky and uncomfortable, but the rewards are great not only to the general population, but to the vitality of the arts and art community. You have to ask yourself, which side would you have been on at the time, and would you have any regrets about it now?
Thank you again for your time and consideration.
Mary Behm-Steinberg
Statement for the bronze plaque (or documentation in the museum)***
Everywhere we look, the common person and the environment are under attack. Global warming; crop failures; poverty and starvation; the disappearance of the middle class and as Americans, our civil rights; decaying economy, un-prosecuted bank fraud, and widespread job loss and foreclosures. The purpose of this project is to spell out the alarm of our collective situation and the threat to US society as we know it. “FIRE!” shocks the viewer as it telegraphs the alarm in Braille that can’t be felt, but only seen and read from a far enough perspective.
As artists, FIRE! directly affects us through cuts in arts funding and calls for censorship from extremists. Each of these situations, along with the disappearance of the middle class, the war on women, and widespread environmental crisis is its own seemingly out of control fire, spreading to each of the others until they are together a giant conflagration. There were warnings, but we as a society did not hear them in time to stop the damage. Perhaps it was understood, but unheeded, or maybe the messengers didn’t understand the full scope of it themselves. It’s difficult to see the big picture beyond individual daily concerns. As an unknown artist, and one with a disability that sometimes causes me to speak incoherently in public, I am used to being ignored. We were blind, and the message was writ too large and progressed too smoothly for us to read it. Now, the destruction is in full swing.
This project seeks to give those of us who have not been heard a voice, and to speak as well as we can for those who won’t have the opportunity. As such, there will be a performance for one of every ten polished circles, so that we can acknowledge that our stories are representative, but not a complete picture of the devastation our times have brought.
Even as the situation seems futile to so many, it is still our responsibility to speak out however we can. Art sparks controversy, and hopefully with it, change. Only through visible action against the status quo and the bearers of power can we hope to affect our own future.
The original design for the De Young’s façade was meant to patinate over time to imitate the surrounding landscape, and its patterning is a tone poem of trees. Fire is both feared and accepted as a natural part of that landscape, and plays a regular part in our lives here, from acres of national forest lands to the East Bay hills.
Yet even a completely burnt forest knows hope and renewal. Seedlings grow in the charred remains, and though it perhaps takes centuries, the forest heals. So will the De Young. As time passes, the polished areas will gradually repatinate, and someday the De Young will again look as if FIRE! was never there.
Text of my response to rejections from Silke Kellner of Herzog and De Meuron and Tim Burgard of the de Young Museum, with a copy sent to Julian Cox of the de Young Museum:
Dear Ms. Kellner-Mergenthaler and Mr. Burgard,
Thanks so much for your reply. I believe this is an important dialogue to have, particularly in the troubled times we live in. As I see it, here are several questions at play here:
Do the architects and the museum aspire for the building housing the de Young Museum to be a living, active force in the social and cultural life of the wider community?
Do the architects and the museum hope this building will be relevant to a wider audience, thereby both serving as a conduit for positive, peaceful political discourse while at the same time providing a window to art that the wider community might not otherwise be exposed to (particularly in this time of reduced art and art education funding)? Which leads me to ask:
Do the architects and the museum curators want to allow this building to become yet another art mausoleum, or are they interested in fostering the work of new and outsider (and in this case, disabled) artists? Do they recognize the validity and importance of the continuing conversation of what art is, particularly conceptual art in the tradition of Robert Rauschenberg's "Erased De Kooning Drawing" or architectural intervention work, such as the Guggenheim museum's 2010 exhibition, Contemplating the Void: Interventions in the Guggenheim Museum?
None of the changes I propose are permanent, as verified by Zahner's own chief engineer, Paul Martin. The performance of the process, as well as the performances in the Concourse, are but moments in time, the recordings of which will outlast the work itself, much like the better part of Andy Goldsworthy's work (which is prominently featured in and around the museum itself). By now, Goldsworthy is a household name, and would hardly be considered outside the art establishment. The "iconic" image of the museum isn't so much being damaged in reality as it is acting as a metaphor for social, environmental, and economic catastrophe. In doing so, the museum serves a purpose beyond simply acting as a repository for cultural objects and the philosophical concerns of the minority of the population who actively attend exhibitions and participate in the wider conversation about art.
In acknowledging the temporary nature of the proposed work, as well as the fact that it will begin to repatinate the moment the polishing is finished, the question then simply becomes one of the merits of the idea and the wider mission and relevance of art, museums, and cultural institutions as a whole. The building has always been questioned, fought over, etc., and by choosing to clad the museum in a surface that will change over time, I would think that the museum would want to explore work that asks people to re-imagine the building, the images of sunlight through trees on its surface, and the nature of change as it relates to structures implied to be permanent but which never are. A project such as this would bring renewed international attention to the museum, and would expose it to a wider audience, and a much more lively and varied conversation than simply letting it grow old slowly, without anyone noticing or questioning the process.
I would also like the reviewers of the project to consider whether, in another time and place, they would have wanted to be remembered as the people with the vision and foresight to approve Christo wrapping the Reichstag, or the officials who dismissed the idea out of hand. History making work is often risky and uncomfortable, but the rewards are great not only to the general population, but to the vitality of the arts and art community. You have to ask yourself, which side would you have been on at the time, and would you have any regrets about it now?
Thank you again for your time and consideration.
Mary Behm-Steinberg