Something to Stew Over: The Meaty Question of Who Filters our Art

This post is written by Latitude 53’s Writer In Residence, Carolyn Jervis. She will be writing critically about Latitude 53 programming, the community and more on a regular basis over a six month term. Read more about the Writer In Residence program.

Last Thursday night I sat, vibrating with concern, frustration, and interest, and listened to some problematic assertions made about the visual arts. I was at a lecture called The Politics of Art and Oil. I want to make it clear that this series, the public component of a University of Alberta Community Service Learning (CSL) course on Oil and the Arts, is a fantastic idea, and the speakers at last week’s installment provided questions that are great brain food:

What stories do we tell ourselves to negotiate our relationship with oil?

Which truths about oil are we willing to acknowledge in these stories, and what might they leave unrecognized about this substance and societal cornerstone?

I would be remiss not to mention the obvious particular relevance these questions have in the heart of oil country. And no, I’m not just talking about hockey. For the out-of -towners who read this blog, Alberta may have the largest beaver dam in the world, which is visible from space, but we also have tar sands (a.k.a. oil sands), which are equally visible from satellites in orbit or alien spacecraft. Our economy would not exist without the energy business.

But oil is only peripheral to what I have to say today. (I’ll return to the topic of the oil and art in future posts after I attend more of the lecture series.) What I am going to discuss in this post is the glaring blindspot the audience and presenters had at that lecture – knowledge about who controls and influences the art we see in this town. Here is a primer on the organizational structure of art institutions, and the many interests that influence which art ends up on their walls. (I found the very idea of writing about organizational structures boring, but hopefully the stew-related analogies to come make the entertainment level of this post more… meaty.)

The People Behind the Plinths and the reason we don’t know about them

I don’t literally mean that there are people lurking behind those cuboid structures upon which sculpture is displayed. I’m saying that it takes a whole village to get work atop those pristine white boxes. Last summer I had the incredible opportunity to participate in an Educator’s Exchange event at the Smithsonian. I got the chance to talk to the brilliant minds behind the institution’s public programs that take place at the Smithsonian museums in Washington, D.C. During the course of discussion, I brought up the fact that they very architecture of museums impedes a visitor’s understanding of the people power that creates and fuels the exhibitions they see and the programs they participate in.

The museum buildings make office, workshop, and conservation spaces inaccessible by carefully partitioning public spaces from administrative ones. How can you have any idea about the underlying organizational process when the only museum staff you see are the security guards who tell you not to touch things and the educators who tell you what the art means? The nuts and bolts are squared away. As far as the average member of the public is concerned, the art finds its way to the walls via elf or some other magical creature.

Perhaps it does take some of the magic out of visiting an exhibition to think about the framing and the curating and the funding. Is the awe factor – the stunning experience of having an intimate moment with a work of art – destroyed by knowing its journey from artist studio to gallery wall? What are your thoughts?

If you maintain the mystique, you might want to stop reading, because I believe that these things need to be made visible. It’s important that we understand who is behind what we see or don’t see. Here’s a cursory look at the people who directly and indirectly act as filters for visual information in gallery spaces.

Who has a hand in the art gallery pot? The Not-for-profit Stew

Governments, Corporations, and Businesses: Although each not-for-profit organization has its own special blend of funding herbs and spices, their financial flavouring tends to be divided into three parts: government (some or all levels); business/corporation (either through sponsorship or foundation support) and individual donors; and self-generated income. Business and government Support can come in the form of operational funding or project-specific dollars. There are always limitations or parameters placed on how this money can be used and how your organization can be structured in order to be eligible for this funding. Thus, there is a link between funding sources and programming choices.

If you’ve ever read a grant application, you know that securing funding can be a time-consuming challenge. And just because your proposal is successful one year doesn’t mean you can rest easy. This application process must be repeated year after year, and getting accepted again isn’t always a sure thing. Your organization could get an outright rejection despite previous years of success. Or maybe you only get half the amount you asked for. To make matters more complicated, an organization doesn’t always know when they’ll hear if their proposal has been accepted or rejected, and an acceptance letter brings no promise of exactly when they’ll have access to the funds.

On the other side of this process are the people who choose the grant and money recipients. Their decisions are subject to rigorous guidelines as well. But, despite those parameters, it is impossible to make this process objective. It’s worth thinking about who sits on those boards or holds those money-giving positions. Who are they? What investment do they have in this process?

Boards and Committees: If the financial supporters are our spice blend, the boards and committees are the stock. Without them, organizations would be as operational and palatable as soup made only of mushy vegetables and slimy noodles. A Not-for-profit’s volunteer board has a hand in much more than raising money. Their decision-making capabilities can range from making gallery or institution programming choices (which often involved okaying proposals brought to them by directors and curators), to planning events, to building bridges between the organization, and businesses and government, all on a policy level. The extent and manner of their involvement varies depending upon organizational structure, the institution’s mandate, and its size.

However, regardless of the institution, these positions are a big responsibility and lots of work. On one hand, the investments of time and energy people are willing to put into our art organizations are really amazing. They don’t get a cent, yet they are responsible for a large part of these organizations’ successes and stumbles. Did you know Latitude’s incredible events, like The Fine Art of Schmoozy and 53 Ways to Leave your Lover, are coordinated by volunteer committees? As someone who has often bartended at these events, I have witnessed the great job they do to make these parties super cool looking and successful.

As I mentioned in the previous section, I think we need to look at all the players who have hands in the running and programming of our art spaces in order to truly understand how the art gets there. It’s also interesting to think about what motivates people to take on these positions. This isn’t a criticism motivated by negativity; I’m interested in getting the full picture. I have had behind-the-scenes looks at arts organizations of many sizes, and from this, I have discovered that the “who” in terms of board members can be strikingly different based on the size and “prestige” of the organization. And what do these people bring to the mix? How might their professions, or their personal financial situations, end up shaping the choices they make as board or committee members? How might these factors shape the kinds of art they feel is appropriate or inappropriate?

Staff: These people are most likely, but not always, the most visible members in our stew. They are the meat or meat alternatives to the art potatoes. They have the most direct interaction with the logistical realities of making art programming happen. The organizational structure of staff also informs they way programming functions, and the type of exhibitions that find themselves in the gallery spaces. They are usually overworked and underpaid. In my experience, that reality is uniform across institution size and structure.

The Soup du Jour: get the ingredient list

All of the variables that can be manipulated from within our not-for-profit stew are responsible in some way for the art, exhibitions, and programs. Likely a less tenuous connection than a gallery goer may realize. The people in these roles also act as information filters, deciding what’s visible or invisible to a person who just wanders into galleries to see a show. The next time you visit a gallery space, I encourage you to visit the donor wall. Take a look at the names listed there, on labels, and over doorways – those of the curators, the artists, the donor organizations and individuals. Visit gallery websites and take a look at the names of their board members. I think it’s naïve to assume none of these people inform the flavour and contents of the space, to greater and lesser degrees.

Think about the people and money resources that support these art institutions. The organization has an investment in keeping these people and businesses happy in order to achieve its mandate, which staff members work to maintain, tooth and nail. How might this affect the work we see as visitors? How might controversy be dealt with? What responsibilities might these people and organizations have to each other?

It’s your turn. Weigh in. They’re a bit muddy looking, our stews, but give one a taste and try to identify all of the components that form the whole.