Victorian Visual Culture

Last Thursday, I attended the opening of the Senior Studio final exhibition for the fall semester, titled Art On Campus. It contained a diverse collection of student installations, one being my own, which were similar in only their definitions as installations–nothing else. Although I was included within this exhibition, I did find that I was still able to be surprised when I attended the opening, and had the wonderful opportunity to explore and interact with my classmates’ works of arts in vastly different and deeply beautiful ways. As the regulations to be included within the exhibition were simply to make an installation, students had the ability to create works on a multitude of diverse experiences, purposes, and themes. I found this expansive world of thought and creativity, collected within a white room, to be startlingly moving and intensely fascinating. My work, and I beside it, had become one part of the miniature world within Blanchard Gallery, and that felt wonderful. The exhibition was organized in a way that felt purposefully randomized, placing students’ work in the spaces they best fit, regardless of the themes and tones of the works around them. Rather than this appearing as confusing or un-thought-out, this created the atmosphere of emotional and creative diversity, and allowed for the audience, including myself, to explore within the room like a child, rather than the more organized, arguably stuffier ways, of a normal gallery. 

My piece, a giant, golden, hanging object, was in the center of the room which filled up the space well. In the first corner to the right of the door, an artist was creating rosaries from scratch, which would then be hung on the wall next to them from a nail. This was an immersive and wonderful experience, as the viewer was able to truly see the love and care placed into a spiritual object, and was given the gift of watching the birth and growth of a religious artifact. This was one of my favorite pieces of the exhibition, having been raised with a background of Christianity, as it allowed me to interact with my roots in a peaceful way, and respect the beauty of the practice. 

The next piece was a set of repeated prints which featured two hands holding an oyster, bordered by two self-portraits of the artist, and studded with paper stars. This piece, as I understood it to be about traumas of the body, felt profoundly personal and emotional, and it appeared to resonate with many besides myself. I found it to be a visceral and thoughtful work, and stayed with it for a long time–to me, the oyster represents femininity and the body, and the hands holding it seem to be protecting it. The self portraits seemed to watch me watching the hands, and I left feeling somewhat stripped down and observed. This piece was already very spiritual to me, but especially being on the wall directly next to the rosaries, this became intensified. To me, personally, the two installations felt like religion through community, and religion through self, and I thought that unintentional pairing was very beautiful in a genuine way.

Across from this wall was an even more interactive installation, which happens to be my favorite kind of installation–I like touching the art! It was a white pedestal which held multiple mugs, carnations, small squares of paper, markers, and instructions to write about something which made you happy and to take a flower in return. I would revisit this installation often within the next few days, coming away each time with a new color of carnation in my hand. As the pile of papers grew taller inside the mugs in which they were meant to be deposited, the artists began to paste them onto the wall behind the pedestal, and it became a climbing wallpaper of the most joyful things to the Mount Holyoke population. This piece was startlingly moving to me, for such joyful artwork–it was a reminder of what is good in life, and what I am privileged to have in light of current events. I left the installation each time thinking deeply, and feeling intensely grateful for whatever I had decided to write on the paper that day–my friends, coffee, my home, concealer after a sleepless night–things that were once available to others and no longer are. It became a daily reflection for myself, beginning on the opening night of the exhibition, to be thankful for what I have, and to mourn the loss that others are experiencing.

Each of the pieces within this exhibition were deeply moving to me, but these three were the ones which have stuck with me the most after a long weekend of revisitation. I am still steeped in thoughts of many things: of love and respect, of guarding of the self and the power of community, of the peacefulness that can come with religion and spirituality, and of the goodness that one can have which contrasts the lack that others face. Each of these installations did not have descriptions of the works or the intentions behind them, which I found to be more thought-provoking and intriguing than had they been explained to me. They were available for me to use as tools to help me consider myself and the world around me, and the artists at hand succeeded in shifting my mindset and becoming more aware. This opening woke up my psyche, and provoked emotions and considerations which will continue to follow me even now that the exhibition is over.