The Heidelberg Project uses the absurd as an entry point for the viewer. The installation is accessible to viewers native to the city of Detroit as well as to visitors to the area. By invading his neighborhood and creating art out of houses, vacant lots, trees and abandoned garbage, Guyton alters the landscape of the neighborhood and blurs the boundary between art and life. In my previous blog entry I was concerned Guyton created a spectacle by inviting visitors to observe the inhabitants of Heidelberg Street. I pondered how residents who did not give consent for participation in the work nevertheless became part of the exhibition. In the following space I further dissect these ideas, first addressing the idea of the spectacle and then the privilege of the artist.
Creating a spectacle suggests viewers are looking for the sake of looking. The spectacle entices the onlooker, but does not require his/her participation beyond gawking. Artist Tyree Guyton transcends the boundary of the spectacle in the Heidelberg Project because the installation is intended to elicit responses from the viewer. The purpose of the Heidelberg Project is not to apprehend the gaze of the viewer for sport, but rather engaging the viewer into the work and letting art act as a medicine making the person and the community well again (Come Unto Me).
Art possesses the power to draw attention to an issue that would otherwise remains unseen. Art transforms Heidelberg Street from vacant lots and abandoned houses to bright colors and playful scenes. The absurd aesthetic of the Heidelberg Project serves Guyton’s goals of healing the community through art because it entices the viewer with something out of the ordinary. Guyton thought the vacant lots and abandoned houses were a “reflection of the people” and proceeded to “just [go] out there and [do] it” by ordering the junk he found in his neighborhood (Come Unto Me). Residents and visitors interact with one another because art exists in the neighborhood. Guyton’s installation brings together parties that might not otherwise cross paths. Guyton’s intent to demonstrate the transformative power of art extends from the installation to community programming. The metaphor of using junk to create art extends to building skills among underprivileged children and young adults. Creating art is an empowering tool for teaching people to create the lives they desire to live. Residents of Detroit can participate in community programs such as Art in Da Hood, Bunche Elementary School, Heidelberg Project Community Garden, Camp Heidelberg, Youth Association of Heidelberg and the Penny Project.
Guyton does not attempt to mediate interactions between residents and onlookers; the art work is the forum for interaction. For example, there are no safeguards to prevent passersby from demolishing the art space or the domestic space that encompasses the Heidelberg Project, save a sign asking patrons to please be respectful. I do not think this choice is indicative of Guyton creating a spectacle, in as much as it is a reflection of his ideas about how to create change. The installation sparks the magic of dialogue by creating a place “to talk about things” that maybe would not otherwise be discussed (Come Unto Me). The task of people to spark dialogue rests firmly in their hands, with Guyton creating the place for this to happen. When citizens successfully petitioned the city to demolish Heidelberg in 1991, Guyton did not attempt to silence his opposition. After creating a grave to bury the rubble, “there is no death for art”, Guyton and community supporters began to build again (Come Unto Me).
Awareness on behalf of the artist about his/her inherent power (for example, race, class, gender, sexual preference) and an awareness about how these distinctions subsequently affect his/her relationships within the population is vital information when creating art with a community. Therefore, I think the artist has a responsibility to his/her subjects and participants to let them know the aim of the art work, particularly when endeavors seek to bring light to community development and/or when the artist is not part of the community he/she wishes to help. Doing otherwise is a misuse of privilege. I do not think the preceding suggestions are a litmus test for “good” or “bad” art, but rather, are tools changing communities from the inside out instead of telling communities how to behave. It brings to mind the questions of “what makes a difference?”, how can we make these changes? who decides what changes are made? When the artist articulates such questions to the population he/she is working with and to the viewing public he/she exemplifies the transformative power of art.
I think my fixation with spectacle in my previous blog entry was a misnomer. That is to say, I let the notion of “spectacle” overshadow my concerns about the artist’s agency or privilege. My critique of Guyton’s methods has little to do with spectacle, because I believe his aims and their affect move beyond the arena of spectacle. I think that Guyton might have received less criticism, especially early on, if he had found more effective ways of communicating with community members about the aim of his project. I think this communication is an important part of the community work he is enacting. As time passed, it appears that these problems have lessened. One of the biggest things I take away from Guyton’s work is a better understanding about the complexity of the situation: Detroit’s demise, programs to revive the city, the cycle of poverty, the role of the city government, the role of the artist. Guyton walks a tight-rope between the alleged categories of artist and community activist.
I visited the Heidelberg Project located on Heidelberg St. in Detroit, MI. Artist Tyree Guyton, a resident of Detroit since his youth saw the demise of his neighborhood and the demise of Detorit. Guyton claims that the city never recovered from the race riots in the 1960’s. Guyton, with the help of his former wife, grandfather and neighborhood children began to clean up the neighborhood. round Heidelberg St. The polka dots on Guyton’s home were the first manifestation of the project which “envisions neighborhood residents using art to come together to rebuild the structure and fabric of under-resourced communities and to create a way of living that is economically viable, enriches lives, and welcomes all people” (http://www.heidelberg.org/mission.html).
Art engulfs, overpowers, literally re-makes Guyton’s neighborhood, womb of the Heidelberg Project. Discarded materials—everything from stuffed animals to shoes and shopping carts to vacuum cleaners and television sets—is the medium of Guyton’s art. Springing up from empty lots and plastered over burnt buildings, Guyton’s work is decidedly foreign to the landscape, but not entirely out of place in the neighborhood.
We arrived three car loads of people arrived at the site, a specific destination for our pilgrimage to Detroit. My cohorts were composed of seven males and six females, three people of color, the rest Caucasian. Besides the entourage of my friends approximately ten others—mostly female and all Caucasian—were visiting the site on that pleasant fall day
A sign posted at one entrance of the project requests guests not to step on lawns or approach homes (unless we are invited to do so). The large sign reminded visitors these are peoples’ homes. I was acutely aware of my role as a spectator while I was at the Heidelberg Project. I am white, female, well-fed, clothed and looking at communities that are not as well off as my own. The Heidelberg Project is located within an inner city neighborhood plagued by poverty. The roads are not well kept, homes are vacant. There are a number of liquor stores, but no place to buy groceries. While wandering through the project I witnessed the erosion, the decay, and withering bursts of life in a place, despite its maladies, where people need to eat and sleep and feed their kids. I was a looker, a seer, a visitor, a guest. Standing and looking. I am the spectator and the artwork is what is to be viewed. This relationship is what exists in a gallery, but instead of standing in a gallery I am in the middle of a neighborhood in a dying city. I gawk at the beauty I see emanating from goods that were recovered from the trash. I am standing in the middle of someone’s street pacing the empty lot across from their house, walking into the middle of someone’s life and I am interested in seeing what they are doing.
Visiting the Heidelberg Project put me in a position to view the artwork, but also to view the people who lived in the area. The people who live on Heidelberg St. were on display in such a way that harkens to historical disenfranchisement of African Americans. This vaguely reminded me of the film Bontoc Eulogy, a mocumentary in which the narrator’s Filipino great-grandfather is allegedly one of the “specimens” put on view at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis. Poverty was being viewed by the outsiders who made a point to see the exhibit. Guyton uses artwork as a tool to empower people out of their poverty. This is evident with the programs such as workshops in Detroit Schools, a community garden, Art in da Hood, Youth Association of Heidelberg, which are part of the Heildelberg Project aimed at community involvement in the city. The power of art to cultivate a spectacle is also in play. Guyton overtakes a space with his artwork in an effort to bring attention to the neighborhood and the plight of its residents.
Fall is upon us and it is another election year. Amidst calls of a national banking crisis, a continuing war abroad and lukewarm banter between two main-party candidates for President, I am left wondering—is this the best mainstream America could muster for political leadership? …Honestly? If the president of the United States is popularly dubbed “leader of the free-world”, Mr. McCain and Mr. Obama offer scant little in the way of political credibility that makes me think either are suited for enormous responsibilities accompanied by this position of power. Politicians fervently demand my vote, my time, my money—television advertisements, persistent emails and the hecklers on my street corner proclaim so. Yet, I remain searching for a leader I want to believe in.
In moments of inner turmoil about lack of choices hosted within the modern electoral system, I catch myself longing for the fictitious world of Aaron Sorkin’s West Wing. The storyline explores how a “good man” weighs the responsibility of the presidency. Though at times preachy, the program demonstrates some of the debacles modern politicians face as questions of political identity, religious conviction, and philosophy are set to play against a backdrop of foreign policy, the twenty-four hour news cycle and domestic needs. Although I differ from political advisors Josh Lyman and Toby Ziegler on policy-issues, I remain deeply attracted to their altruism. In that oval office the power of the presidency is used to give benefit to the greater community, particularly those members that are in special need of assistance. The use of executive and legislative power exercised on the West Wing set stands in stark contrast to the America in which I live. The actors and writers of the West Wing create political zeal I wish modern American politicians could inspire in me.
In lieu of being able to simplify our surroundings into a voyeuristic forty-two minutes, as active citizens we must become better at dealing with the world’s complications. This means acting in ways that articulate politics outside of the electoral system. Too often members of the electorate saunter into territories of political apathy or become steeped in the rigors of two-party ideology after being shackled to the voting booth. Voting may be one way to make change in America, but surely we can find better ways of breeding hope for the future. Let us radical-progressive-leftists get moving. We need to find ways of re-energizing Americans about politics that do not include get out the vote drives. We must strengthen our civic participation to maintain a vibrant democracy. We must enliven political discourse around dinner tables, in classrooms and in places of worship. We must educate for media literacy. West Wing was successful at creating a platform of hope, of belief that government can and should and will do something good for the electorate. I am not sure if such a government can exist outside of prime-time. However, in lieu of certainty, I am willing to take a risk to say that the sort of world that I would like to live in can exist, and that I can have a role in its creation. We have the power to build strong communities and in these nooks and crannies a healthy future. People need to rid themselves of the notion that voting is their only power because participating in other political avenues is necessary to create a government that is accountable, honest, and responsive.
As a queer woman of color, I’ve come to realize that people often have perceptions of who I am before they get to know me, and as I recently discovered, sometimes before they even meet me. At times these perceptions are accurate, but more often than not they are incorrect. As a racially ambiguous person I accept that this is simply part of my life and I have become better at gently correcting those who misperceive me. More so, I realize that this happens to all of us, as it seems natural for humans to categorize. However, one can’t deny that historically raced bodies have been objectified and interpreted in unique ways. A recent experience reminded me not only of how I am perceived by others, but also how my experience reflects a history of silencing and objectifying women of color.
Before I finished my summer internship I was talking to one of my coworkers (Ben) that I became good friends with. Ben told me that one of our supervisors (Derick) warned him before I began that I might be African American, and he should therefore tone down his language and behavior. My supervisor worried he might say something to offend me because Ben is a farm kid from Kansas and bluntly shares ALL of his thoughts. I found out from another co-worker (Lindsey) that our other supervisor (Pete) warned her and the rest of the interns that I might be a lesbian because of my involvement in LGBTQ groups at school. Again, this was a warning to watch the language in response to hearing someone use the word gay pejoratively. Pete also outed my supervisor Derick, who is gay, to the other interns before I arrived. Both supervisors made these assessments based off of my resume, as I had only spoken to them on the phone at that point.
After hearing this, I thought it was kind of funny, but mostly problematic. It’s funny because I am neither African American or a lesbian. My preferred label is a queer woman of color and to break it down even more for those who’d inquire I’d say that I’m a multiracial woman loving woman. It’s problematic because while I think my supervisors did this in order to protect me, they outed me without my permission (and incorrectly I might add). It’s also an example of not being a very good ally. I think it is great to develop a work place environment that is tolerant and respectful, but instead of responding when inappropriate or borderline comments were made, they used me as the “teachable moment.” In their actions, they only reinforced the idea of me being an “other.”
And if part of me is who I am perceived to be then who am I? black, lesbian, straight, brown, female, dyke? Someone who is tough, easy, available? The interpretations of my body are endless. The verbal assaults are on going as well. I think the struggle to be seen as who I am is an upward battle and I often find myself disappointed even by people I highly respect. Where do these perceptions come from? Why is my body often so highly contested and misperceived?
Historically, raced bodies in this country, and more specifically female raced bodies, have been objectified and silenced through the creation of institutions such as slavery. In order to mask the immorality of slavery, one had to deny the humanity of slaves. In this way, slaves could be seen as animals, which translate into objects that can be controlled. It is in this way that female slaves were sexually exploited as well. The history of this kind of objectification, which allowed for the sale of raced bodies, instilled a curious notion that they could be controlled and silenced.
Specifically, I am thinking of Venus Hottentot. She was an enslaved South African woman who was taken around Europe by her owner to display her “unusual” body features. She was exhibited in the late 1700s because she had a large butt and labia. After she died her genitalia and brains were put on display in a museum in France. In this case a private individual actually went through the act of “displaying” another human being as an object and received payment for this. Instead of gaining profit for selling her body as in slavery, the profit was gained by repeatedly displaying her. She became a spectacle that could be consumed by viewers, rather than an animal that would complete labor as in slavery. The distinction between these different kinds of sale point to a shift in how raced bodies were controlled. Supporters of slavery were able to justify its existence by denying the humanity of slaves. However, by selling an image of a raced body, the owners of capital were able to control their metaphorical representation.
As a woman of color, I carry the history of these types of travesties and many of the roots resurface which result in divergent interpretations of my body. While many of the metaphors have changed and/or shifted, what still remains is the control over raced bodies.
author: coco
Is gay marriage good for the queer community? Is gay marriage bad for our community? Like most things it is not simply a question of good or bad. Unfortunately, when considering these questions we often depend upon our beliefs. These beliefs appear so natural that we stop questioning why.
Why do we get married? Unfortunately, that is a difficult question, since “we’ is actually “I”, and “I” deserve something longer than a pamphlet. The question could then be: what do you get out of marriage? Well, a committed loving relationship, but marriage doesn’t create that, people do. Legal marriage provides traditional, heterosexually defined, social acceptance. These traditional relationships then provide legal privileges.
Married couples are given the right to be covered under the same health insurance. I can’t afford health insurance. It is a privilege that 50 million Americans, both queer and straight, cannot afford. Why is health insurance a privilege? Why should the gay community fight for access for some, instead of fighting for access for all? Married couples, those who can afford to go to the hospital, have the right to visit and make choices for their loved ones. As a community we talk about how, in order to deal with rejection, we create our families from our friends. We create support groups who we love, care for, and depend upon. We create our families because of our differences, our differences from our legal families, from society, and from each other. When we go to the hospital our families are denied access. Not just our partners are denied, our families are denied. Why should a single queer person be denied access to their family? Law or legal marriage cannot recognize our families because they challenge the very concept. The question is not whether the denial of gay marriage is unjust, since it is obviously so. The question is: what do we fight for as a community? How do we best protect the differences that define our community?
Queens, tired of being beaten, abused, and jailed, started the Stonewall riots. These queens fought back because they were the most different, the most punished. It is those who are the most different who are denied a voice. The queer community has put energy, time, and lots of money into fighting for legal marriage. To whom does it benefit? We are not recognizing that legal marriage requires exclusion. The most different are still excluded. We should create new systems that do not exclude or discriminate, not fight for added privilege in an unjust system. Privilege must be recognized as the problem. The first step towards finding a solution is to ask why.
