Michigan–Land of Riches

Last month I flew out to Michigan to represent Burnside at the Festival of Faith and Writing (FFW).  I wasn’t sure what to expect from the Midwest.  I mean, I’m from Manhattan.  My perception is that the Midwest must be so cold, flat, and boring that anyone with any shred of culture wants to move to New York–usually Brooklyn.  In fact, judging from the fact that about 98% of my church graduated from Calvin College–the other 2% being me and my sister–I’d venture to say that people are fleeing Grand Rapids in droves.  So, when one of the students at Calvin offered to show me what Grand Rapids had to offer in terms of the arts, I jumped at the opportunity.  After all, it’s my responsibility as Burnside’s visual arts editor to let you in on what’s going on in the art world–not just my backyard, even if my proverbial backyard is the fabulous Chelsea galleries.  …Besides, one can only take so much talk about “Craft” and “The Writing Process” and “Platform” before she thinks she should give up writing altogether for a more stable and lucrative career as a dental hygienist.

The college senior–who, mind you, I had met the previous summer in New York–popped They Might Be Giants into the CD player in his car.  With his left leg propped up on the seat, he drove us past tired-looking homes, large but old and worn; stone churches with bright red doors; the Ladies Literary Club, a Romanesque work of architecture that was once part of the women’s club movement and now holds rock concerts ; and into the center of town.  It was Record Store Day.  Angsty suburban kids packed between the rows and rows of CDs at Vertigo.  They could’ve been extras in a Richard Linklater movie.  There was free pizza and free beer and a band playing loudly.  (I obnoxiously bragged that I saw Regina Spektor play at a record store in Brooklyn a few years ago on Record Store Day.)  A few doors down was a vintage store called Scavenger Hunt, where you could get band tees, and fishnets, and even haircuts styled like Marlene Dietrich’s.  We went to two galleries, and since I forgot the name of one of them, I’ll tell you about the other, which was really more interesting anyway.

All too close to closing time, we ducked into 54 Jefferson Avenue.  The old Grand Rapids Transit Museum was quite different than the New York Transit Museum.  Instead of ye olde fashioned subway cars, it had been re-imagined as the exhibit “Michigan–Land of Riches,” put on by the Grand Rapids Public Museum.  The guide sets the story:

The Webster’s Dictionary defines a museum as follows: A place for the Muses; a building, room, etc., for preserving and exhibiting artistic, historic, or scientific objects. The Michigan—Land of Riches project is taking the full definition from Webster’s and giving it life.

The Grand Rapids Public Museum has filled many roles in the community over its long 157 year history and must continue to do so now and in the future. The Michigan—Land of Riches exhibit joins 30 faculty and 200 students from area colleges and universities plus local artists together in a project within the confines of the historic former home of the Public Museum. The energy and creativity of the faculty, students, and artists all working together under the overall curatorial direction of Paul Amenta is much appreciated by all of us at the Museum.

Within these walls were fantastic works of art that blended one into the other.  Curiouser and curiouser, the museum-goer wanders from one room to the next, not sure where one exhibit stops and the next begins.  Some seem clear, distinct.  And yet, suddenly a remnant from an installation in a room in the front makes its way into an installation all the way in the back, on the opposite side of the hall.

This historic museum was documenting history.  It was explaining Michigan’s past and foreshadowing its future, demonstrating how the two are intrinsically linked.  Nature, garbage, and art melded into symbolism.  The building was set up to look like a natural history museum, and indeed real (not live, but once living) animals were propped up in the display cases.  And yet these wild inhabitants of Michigan were juxtaposed with tossed-aside cultural references of civilized society.

Two deer pass by the great American roadside diner.

A red chair rusts in the woods.

Who used to sit in it?  Who sits in it now?

It is reminiscent of Doug Aiken’s “Migration,” installed at the 303 Gallery in Chelsea (New York) a few years ago, in that it makes one suddenly so aware of man’s encroachment on nature.  (If you didn’t click on the link to the video, make sure to come back to it.  Aiken’s film is haunting.)

Another artist collects things he’s found on the street.  Garbage to some.  Treasured objects lost to others.  Collected in groups they are art.  They are disturbingly representative of modern American culture.

Plastic toy figures.

Plastic toy figurine legs.

Plastic toy figurine arms.

Lighters.

Glasses.

Hair clips.

American commodities discarded on the sidewalk.

Upstairs, it’s as if the Great Lake winds have blown the doors open.  A room is littered with confetti-like papers.  (Perhaps a frustrated writer from FFW?)  Eerie music comes from within.  Can we step into the room?  Can one enter into the installation?

Can one enter a work of art, not just physically but metaphorically?  Is that person then part of the art?  Has that person always been a work of art?  Or, is one’s status of art object contingent upon whether one steps into an actual art installation?  Or, when one realizes that she is a work of art?

All of life, from rusted metal chairs to wide-eyed owls, is art.  With the right mindset, one sees beauty in man-made commodities, high-art, and, yes, God’s creation.  One might even see the beauty of the middle western states.

“Michigan–Land of Riches” closes May 15.