Wednesday 15 July 2020

Power to the People

A New Art Ambush to Set on a Pedestal



It used to be called ‘underground’ or ‘guerrilla’ art but a new term has seemingly been coined for artist Marc Quinn’s new “ambush sculpture” called ‘A Surge of Power (Jen Reid)’ , which has surreptitiously just appeared on a vacant plinth following a coordinated dawn raid in Bristol. The resin and steel figurative sculpture installed by stealth is of ‘Black Lives Matter’ protestor Jen Reid stood aloft with a single fist raised in the classic ‘Black Power’ salute. Her pose is the same as that which had previously been photographed, as she followed up her overwhelming impulse to climb up onto the very same pedestal several weeks earlier. Then, it had not long been vacated by the statue of the disgraced 17th century merchant and slave trader Edward Colston, who had just been unceremoniously ripped down by her fellow protestors and dumped into Bristol harbour the same day. Asked about the installed artwork afterwards, Reid stood in front of it with her fist again in the air: “That’s pretty fucking ballsy, that it is” she replied.

This is not a lone example of course though. A new global surge is on the rise with a ripple effect of incensed protestors feeling increasingly compelled to join together and pull-down or deface (or vandalise depending on your establishment viewpoint) some of our most controversial public statues. This is not a new phenomenon as similar mass demonstrations in times of civic strife or revolution will testify to, but the peacetime precedent these examples set is entirely unique and is becoming utterly compelling. The epicentre of this wave of uprising was of course the callous murder in police custody of African American George Floyd in Minneapolis in May 2020. Driven on by this crime, came a united call of “I can’t breathe” and ‘Black Lives Matter’ that simply asked for society to reject its embedded racism and cultural stereotyping and to "Join the Movement to fight for Freedom, Liberation and Justice".

Of course, the resulting ground swell of this hugely impressive movement is not just a social media reaction to yet another case of Police brutality and racial inequality: It scratches the surface of a far deeper wound that our so-called ‘civilised’ society had perhaps long thought healed-over. It now prods, provokes and liberates everyone to acknowledge (as if we should ever need reminding) how historically ingrained and hidden-in-plain-sight some of the figureheads from our Imperialistic legacy often are. Some of course remain global icons, but many are far more obscure and previously considered to be benign philanthropic merchants, politicians and soldiers long-dead. Both though have to varying degrees helped establish or sustain a privileged position on top of an old first world order. Subliminally such establishment figures still tint a rose-coloured view back to (in)glorious past empires and victories, as well as to a complacent present and future too. Their statues may not represent outright oppressors in the more dictatorial sense of a Stalin, Sadam or Gaddafi figure, but their aura and often passive-aggressive stance reflects a self-righteous sense of entitled superiority and governance that remains embedded in the fabric around them.

In the United States, statues of Confederate President Jefferson Davis in Richmond, and Brigadier General Albert Pike in Washington have already been toppled. Somewhat unsurprisingly, President Trump has indicated he might sign an Executive Order to protect such monuments. Meantime, statues of Christopher Columbus in Boston, Miami and Virginia have all been vandalised too.

Here in the UK, the ‘Rhodes Must Fall’ protest movement has also finally convinced the Governors at Oxford University that Oriel College should finally initiate the removal of its controversial statue of Empire-Builder and college founder Cecil Rhodes. The implied agreement to remove this symbol of imperialism and racism comes five years after the inaugural movement to “decolonisation” education across South Africa, also successfully lobbied the University of Cape Town (UTC) to remove its own bronze of Rhodes.

Puffed-up and Trump-like, our prime minister Boris Johnson, responded by saying that to remove such statues as Colston and Rhodes was “to lie about our history”. Meanwhile far right groups also converged to supposedly defend the statue (and honour) of Winston Churchill sited in Parliament Square. That this ended up in disgraceful scenes of binge drinking, riotous thuggery and football hooliganism is too depressing to even dwell on.

But it is the reaction by first protest group Black Lives Matter and then artist Marc Quinn that has set the precedent for a fantastic potential future for the graveyard of old statues that proliferate in our streets. Somewhat ironically, arts charity Art UK are only just completing their 3-year nation-wide Sculpture Project to provide a free-to-access online photographic showcase of all such publicly owned sculpture. Further to this, a series of recent BBC Radio 4 debates As the Statues Fall , Should We Remove Controversial Statues? and Racism & Statues also argued both for and against retention. Most compelling of all though is just what kind of new public art should be curated for these empty plinths (if anything) if and when such statues are removed? The jury is still out on that question, but either way, the transient move towards a new iconoclasm looks here to stay - and is something that cannot conveniently be fudged or tidied-up by authorities once the dust settles either.

In terms of Marc Quinn himself, this is not the first time he has installed a temporary artwork on an empty plinth (I say temporary for ‘A Surge of Power (Jen Reid)’ only because Bristol City Council in not being involved or consulted have stated since that it is “not expected to remain”): Quinn's sculpture Alison Lapper Pregnant which I first wrote about in 2004, was installed as part of Trafalgar Square’s ‘empty’ Fourth Plinth programme. It portrayed the naked vulnerability yet classic serenity of disabled artist Alison Lapper. It redressed what Quinn called a “new model of feminine heroism” and countered the age-old male dominance of usual suspects like Admiral Lord Nelson looking down from his great column. Quinn also made a series of works inspired by the riots that followed the police killing of Mark Duggan in Tottenham in 2011. But in terms of ‘A Surge of Power (Jen Reid)’ the artist says he viewed it as a duty for prominent white artists to amplify other voices and stimulate attention and discussion around urgent issues. He reiterated that  “Jen created the sculpture when she stood on the plinth and raised her arm in the air. Now we’re crystallising it.”

When questioned if it was an issue that a white artist had created the work, Reid herself said: “It’s not even a question. If we have allies, it doesn’t matter what colour they are. He has done something to represent BLM, and to keep the conversation going.” Despite the natural misgivings around the far right, white hooliganism seen around the Churchill sculpture, this is an encouraging sign. It is not always the cultural case in the field of figurative artform, which can have a tendency towards the controversial - particularly in the U.S for example. Here, two separate statues of Martin Luther King Jr. have been criticised for not being created by black artists: Sculptor Erik Blome was accused of being incapable of relating to Black issues and creating an authentic “African” pose and face for Dr King for his sculpture installed in Rocky Mount, whilst Chinese artist, Lei Yixin’s Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial in Washington, having been carved in white granite, was criticised for being “too white”.

In the meantime, whilst Jen Reid celebrates the growing legacy of Black Lives Matter with a wider world, the usurped figure of the now-disgraced Colston has since been dredged from the bottom of Bristol Harbour. He is currently being restored, but it has been reported that his daubed graffiti, plus an old bicycle tyre ‘acquired’, whilst under the water will all be preserved for his eventual move to a new permanent home in Bristol Museum.

Despite a 'Statue of Limitations' as some have called it, and regardless of how many centuries ago the conviction, the new public movement is in no mood to be assuaged: Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
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Tuesday 28 January 2020

Won’t You Be My Neighbour?


A role model for the ultimate in teasing-out true community spirit and ever-more ‘social street behaviour’ is currently being showcased in the film A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, [1]  just released in the UK. It tells the true feel-good story of the long-running U.S educational children’s television series called Mister Rogers’ Neighbourhood, which painted a simple utopian picture of urban life. This imaginary sense of place was built over nearly forty years around a kingdom, part-human and part-puppet, called the ‘Neighborhood of Make-Believe’. The series was fronted by both eponymous and actual Mister (Fred) Rogers, who both wrote and presented the programme from 1962 up until its close in 2001.

The content was always whimsical, advocating old tenets like loving thy neighbour, but also dealt genially with problematical issues of the day. Underwriting it all was a moral sense of purpose that acted as self-appointed guardian of the young and vulnerable – including notably a TV Special that once explored how children might deal with tragedy and loss following the assassination of Robert F. Kennedy in 1968. In the new film, Rogers is played by Tom Hanks, and it is difficult perhaps to imagine any actor more appropriate to portray the gentle kindness and empathy of both real and imaginary ‘Mister Rogers’.

Ironic, given more modern media scandals, that the starting premise of the film plotline is the true story of the investigative journalist who had sought an interview whilst hoping to unearth scandal and hypocrisy around the private life of Fred Rogers. None was to be found, as his real and imaginary persona was effectively one and the same. It all ended happily ever after: He simply loved life and all his millions of ‘neighbours’.
Around the middle of the 40-year run of Rogers’ fictional kingdom, another real-life call for a better quality of life for individuals and society was also being made by another altruistic American in the U.S. William Hollingsworth (Holly) Whyte [2] was an urbanist, writer and organisational analyst – but also an unobtrusive people-watcher like Fred Rogers. In 1980,  in conjunction with the Municipal Art Society of New York [3], he published the findings from his visionary Street Life Project [4] in a book called The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces. [5]

This is still seen today as a seminal study of human behaviour in urban settings – and remains a chief advocate for more bottom-up place design. In it, Whyte’s pioneering research on New York pedestrian behaviour and city dynamics was dutifully recorded and then interpreted. Along with his team of research assistants, he walked the streets of the city neighbourhoods with camera and notebook in hand.

Prior to this, in 1969, Whyte had already assisted the New York City Planning Commission in the writing of their 6-volume Plan for New York City. [6] This sea change to urban planning came at a key point in the city’s own development, as since 1950 New York had begun facing many problems linked to such things as: ‘white flight’; a decline of manufacturing; rising unemployment, crime and racial tensions; and a shortage of quality, affordable housing. As such, and with his identified focus on humanising neighbourhood-level planning via documenting the progress of newly planned urban spaces, Whyte received a vital grant allowing him and his team time to study the community life blood of New York (and other cities) as part of the Street Life Project.

Both the book and the 55-minute accompanying film produced were instantly labelled classics and launched a mini-revolution in the planning and study of public spaces. This body of work became a blueprint on how to live in a city, whilst it questioned preconceptions of the time that people-space and street-space were incompatible with one another. Whyte described the street as “the river of life” with people-watching its principle activity. He also identified seven elements that he believed seeded spaces for lively activity – namely:
Sittable Space, with a variety of fixed and movable seating; Street, spaces with proximity and good connections; Sun, giving direct or reflective access to light; Food, including from carts, cafes, or snack bars; Water, including public access to rivers, ponds, and interactive features; Trees, to create a defined canopy; and finally, Triangulation to create things, actions, activities and art to act as a “Venturi affect” and ‘people magnet’.

The key Whyte believed, was to record, document and then act upon why some city spaces worked for people while others did not. From the lessons drawn, practical implications on how to make urban living more joyful were proposed. Key was empowering a subconscious social ritual where actual people do the deciding. A classic example of this was Whyte’s documented interest in lightweight moveable chairs used in public space. He believed it “A wonderful invention – the moveable chair… a declaration of autonomy, to oneself, and rather satisfying”.

The Street Life Project was to continue for more than 16 years, whilst Holly Whyte also became a key planning consultant for other major U.S. cities, travelling and lecturing widely. As well as publishing his The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces, William H Whyte authored other books on urban planning, design, and human behaviour including notably: Is Anybody Listening? (1952); The Organization Man (1956); The Exploding Metropolis (1958); Securing Open Spaces for Urban America (1959); Cluster Development (1964); The Last Landscape (1968); and City: Rediscovery of the Center (1988).
40 years on from his first publication of The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces, the non-profit organisation Project for Public Spaces (PPS), [7] has grown out of the Street Life Project. Founded in 1975, PPS remains dedicated to place making and helping people create and sustain public spaces that build strong communities. Since inception, PPS have completed projects in more than 3,500 communities in over 50 countries and in all 50 mainland U.S. states.

The direct U.S legacy to organisations like PPS is a real testament to the power of William H Whyte’s original vision. More indirectly, and back in New York itself, as well as the Municipal Art Society of New York still existing, many other  community, environmental and social arts led initiatives also thrive: Notable are long-standing exemplars like non-profit organisations Creative Time, [8] The High Line, [9] The River Project [10] and GrowNYC [11] .

America of course cannot hold the monopoly on the ‘unalienable right’ of citizens to ‘Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness’. Even if this was recognised as being granted by God to all humans in the U.S Declaration of Independence, as drafted by Founding Father Thomas Jefferson way back in 1776.

There is no unachievable make-believe in seeking beauty or happiness anywhere, using the imaginary or real neighbourhood models that Fred Rogers and William H Whyte helped conceive and document so painstakingly over many years. The guiding morals for city betterment they both espoused were similar, in involving simple common sense to help us achieve cultural wellbeing and more liveable places. That is to say: Holistically look to build up a real sense of community from the grass roots upwards; Listen to and watch what people want with compassion, before implementing what works well; Understand and attend to the fundamental core draws that make the ‘life’ of some places so truly social; Then, when all that is done, do anything you can to welcome, embrace and rekindle our rather lost current sense of public spiritedness, empathy, altruism and neighbourliness.

Pursue all that dutifully, and happiness must surely follow!
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