For Rosslyn Redpoint, Jeffry Cudlin, Maggie Schneider, and Caitlin Tucker embarked on a grueling, all-day expedition across vast expanses of concrete and brick in downtown Rosslyn, Virginia. Though they were fully equipped with helmets, ropes, harnesses, hexes, and other climbing tools, there was little actual danger of falling: The trio moved horizontally, crawling on their bellies through parks, onto and off of curbs, and across Rosslyn’s soon-to-be-decommissioned skywalks.
This farcical journey nonetheless required actual endurance in the face of driving rain, physical injuries, and a steady stream of both automotive and pedestrian traffic.
Every day, on average, more than 30,000 commuters board or disembark trains at the Rosslyn Metrorail station—making it the busiest station stop in Arlington County. Despite the movement of so many people into and out of Rosslyn on a daily basis, it remains fixed in the minds of many Arlington and D.C. residents as a place where people work, not a place where people live, shop, or otherwise experience the benefits of a livable, walkable urban environment. Mostly, Rosslyn provides a striking skyline undergirded by a byzantine network of broad, pedestrian-unfriendly streets—which are largely evacuated after 5:00pm.
Yet Rosslyn is rated the 6th most walkable neighborhood in Arlington, with a surprisingly high Walk Score rating of 83. Arlington County has announced plans to remove the skywalks that were created to traverse Rosslyn’s wide arteries of auto traffic, and developers and planners alike are working to make Rosslyn a place where people might linger—or even relocate. There is a sense among many working in Rosslyn that the terrain is somehow shifting.
This farcical journey nonetheless required actual endurance in the face of driving rain, physical injuries, and a steady stream of both automotive and pedestrian traffic.
Every day, on average, more than 30,000 commuters board or disembark trains at the Rosslyn Metrorail station—making it the busiest station stop in Arlington County. Despite the movement of so many people into and out of Rosslyn on a daily basis, it remains fixed in the minds of many Arlington and D.C. residents as a place where people work, not a place where people live, shop, or otherwise experience the benefits of a livable, walkable urban environment. Mostly, Rosslyn provides a striking skyline undergirded by a byzantine network of broad, pedestrian-unfriendly streets—which are largely evacuated after 5:00pm.
Yet Rosslyn is rated the 6th most walkable neighborhood in Arlington, with a surprisingly high Walk Score rating of 83. Arlington County has announced plans to remove the skywalks that were created to traverse Rosslyn’s wide arteries of auto traffic, and developers and planners alike are working to make Rosslyn a place where people might linger—or even relocate. There is a sense among many working in Rosslyn that the terrain is somehow shifting.
photos courtesy of Allison Gulick
This terrain demands explorers and pioneers—hence, our day-long expedition, commenced from a base camp in Georgetown, and tracing a path across the Key Bridge and into the heart of downtown.
Our climb offered unexpected encounters with commuters, more intimate relationships with pedestrian amenities, and sustained contemplation of the planning processes that have yielded Rosslyn’s current structure.
In rock climbing, “redpointing” means leading a team of free climbers along a route that has been practiced beforehand. While there is risk involved, the route is nonetheless established and known. Rosslyn Redpoint draws parallels between the faux-expeditionary aspect of recreational climbing—the sense of conquering terrain that is, in fact, already conquered, and therefore is a sort of mediated experience—with the ongoing efforts at placemaking in Rosslyn via rehabbing parks, encouraging new development, and sponsoring events and festivals like SUPERNOVA, for which this performance was created.
Our climb offered unexpected encounters with commuters, more intimate relationships with pedestrian amenities, and sustained contemplation of the planning processes that have yielded Rosslyn’s current structure.
In rock climbing, “redpointing” means leading a team of free climbers along a route that has been practiced beforehand. While there is risk involved, the route is nonetheless established and known. Rosslyn Redpoint draws parallels between the faux-expeditionary aspect of recreational climbing—the sense of conquering terrain that is, in fact, already conquered, and therefore is a sort of mediated experience—with the ongoing efforts at placemaking in Rosslyn via rehabbing parks, encouraging new development, and sponsoring events and festivals like SUPERNOVA, for which this performance was created.
photos courtesy of Steve Strawn
"Jeffry Cudlin Plots a Slow, Dangerous Crawl Through Rosslyn"
The Washington City Paper | May 30, 2013
By Alexis Hauk
Performance artist Jeffry Cudlin moved to Arlington in 1995 and lived there for four years. The first time he set foot in Rosslyn, he got completely lost while putting up fliers for his band. He eventually realized it was futile—no one was walking around the barren corporate wasteland at 8 p.m. on a weeknight.
Even after Cudlin moved to D.C.—he now lives in Petworth—his then-job as a curator at Arlington Arts Center forced him to make the commute back to the area. “Rosslyn continues to haunt my dreams,” he says.
In the '90s, Cudlin probably didn't picture that odd little hamlet of parking garages and high-rises becoming the venue for one of his most daring works of performance art, but the neighborhood's poor urban planning—hatched in the 1960s—is what inspired it. Beginning at 9 a.m. on June 7, Cudlin and two other artists will initiate a performance piece in which they crawl on their bellies, dragging themselves along the streets and sidewalks of Rosslyn, moving at a snail's pace for eight hours. The work, "Rosslyn Redpoint," is a part of the Rosslyn BID-sponsored, Pink Line Project-produced performance art festival, Supernova, that officially starts that day.
“My impression [of Rosslyn] has always been this strange chaotic terrain. It’s as if bits of sidewalk and street just suddenly collided and there was a sudden upheaval,” says Cudlin, who's now a teacher at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore. “I feel like I’m always walking uphill. There are these weird geographical features and tunnels. It doesn’t seem like where ordinary human locomotion will suffice.” For the performance, Cudlin isn't undergoing any endurance training, really—but he thinks past experiences with things like body waxing and triathlons should suffice.
He'll be joined by Caitlin Tucker and Maggie Schneider, both MFA candidates at MICA. Schneider is the only one on the team with climbing experience, although the gravity-related risks of scaling rocks won’t apply in this case, since they'll mostly be flat on the ground. Instead, the group will face sunburn, dehydration, and the very real danger of foot and car traffic. As both a safety measure and for additional showmanship, they'll be flanked throughout the day by a small group of people in safety vests holding stop signs. The safety crew, Cudlin says, is mostly made of up students who "know my crazy is a good crazy."
The route begins in Georgetown, heading across the Key Bridge, an area where Cudlin says he’s been almost hit by vehicles—crossing on two legs with the crosswalk light. The team will traverse the Sky Bridge, make their way through a “strange, dispiriting gray parking garage,” head from the Marriott across Lee Highway, and maneuver themselves down a metal staircase . "That’s probably the first place we’re going to get injured," he says.
If they time it right, the performers will arrive at North Lynn just in time for the height of lunch hour. Their final destination is Freedom Park.
The logistical hurdles of this trek seem, well, numerous, but Cudlin says it’s “better to apologize later than ask questions first.” Most of the route is in public space, but there are a couple sections that may not be open to them. They'll find out when they get there. “Do I have permits to go where I’m going? No,” he says. “I’m assuming that we’ll be given a wide berth.”
For inspiration, Cudlin says he looked to the work of William Pope.L, best known for his legendary “Great White Way” piece, in which the artist dressed up as Superman and, elbow over elbow, dragged his way down the 22-mile stretch of New York City's Broadway. He strapped a skateboard to his back so he could roll through street crossings. Pope.L’s project took nine years to finish. “That was in response to racism. Ours is in response to bad planning," says Cudlin. "The developers want to promote Rosslyn as a place to live and not just work, but there are a lot of infrastructure challenges that go into that. You can’t just have a lot of fabulous parties and ignore the fact that it sucks to cross the street."
When he began his career as a painter, Cudlin said his art was sort of the opposite of what he does now. He spent long hours working to fill his canvas with art that “would resist criticism” and “stand mutely on a wall.” Eventually, he "wanted something messier, where someone could have a strongly negative reaction.” In 2010, Cudlin mounted his piece, "By Request," which he touted as the "ideal Washington art exhibition," drawn from collected polling data from D.C. collectors, critics, and curators. The Christopher Guest-like joke was that every piece, by a variety of artists, was an image of himself.
The potential for mortification and public awkwardness, Cudlin says, "is sort of a drug, once you discover it. You keep coming back to it because it scares you. I really believe the risk of failure is important. You set up these situations to look like a fool."
But Cudlin says he probably won't concern himself too much with people's reactions while he's crawling on the ground. "At a certain point I’m just lost in this shitty task I’ve appointed for myself."
The Washington City Paper | May 30, 2013
By Alexis Hauk
Performance artist Jeffry Cudlin moved to Arlington in 1995 and lived there for four years. The first time he set foot in Rosslyn, he got completely lost while putting up fliers for his band. He eventually realized it was futile—no one was walking around the barren corporate wasteland at 8 p.m. on a weeknight.
Even after Cudlin moved to D.C.—he now lives in Petworth—his then-job as a curator at Arlington Arts Center forced him to make the commute back to the area. “Rosslyn continues to haunt my dreams,” he says.
In the '90s, Cudlin probably didn't picture that odd little hamlet of parking garages and high-rises becoming the venue for one of his most daring works of performance art, but the neighborhood's poor urban planning—hatched in the 1960s—is what inspired it. Beginning at 9 a.m. on June 7, Cudlin and two other artists will initiate a performance piece in which they crawl on their bellies, dragging themselves along the streets and sidewalks of Rosslyn, moving at a snail's pace for eight hours. The work, "Rosslyn Redpoint," is a part of the Rosslyn BID-sponsored, Pink Line Project-produced performance art festival, Supernova, that officially starts that day.
“My impression [of Rosslyn] has always been this strange chaotic terrain. It’s as if bits of sidewalk and street just suddenly collided and there was a sudden upheaval,” says Cudlin, who's now a teacher at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore. “I feel like I’m always walking uphill. There are these weird geographical features and tunnels. It doesn’t seem like where ordinary human locomotion will suffice.” For the performance, Cudlin isn't undergoing any endurance training, really—but he thinks past experiences with things like body waxing and triathlons should suffice.
He'll be joined by Caitlin Tucker and Maggie Schneider, both MFA candidates at MICA. Schneider is the only one on the team with climbing experience, although the gravity-related risks of scaling rocks won’t apply in this case, since they'll mostly be flat on the ground. Instead, the group will face sunburn, dehydration, and the very real danger of foot and car traffic. As both a safety measure and for additional showmanship, they'll be flanked throughout the day by a small group of people in safety vests holding stop signs. The safety crew, Cudlin says, is mostly made of up students who "know my crazy is a good crazy."
The route begins in Georgetown, heading across the Key Bridge, an area where Cudlin says he’s been almost hit by vehicles—crossing on two legs with the crosswalk light. The team will traverse the Sky Bridge, make their way through a “strange, dispiriting gray parking garage,” head from the Marriott across Lee Highway, and maneuver themselves down a metal staircase . "That’s probably the first place we’re going to get injured," he says.
If they time it right, the performers will arrive at North Lynn just in time for the height of lunch hour. Their final destination is Freedom Park.
The logistical hurdles of this trek seem, well, numerous, but Cudlin says it’s “better to apologize later than ask questions first.” Most of the route is in public space, but there are a couple sections that may not be open to them. They'll find out when they get there. “Do I have permits to go where I’m going? No,” he says. “I’m assuming that we’ll be given a wide berth.”
For inspiration, Cudlin says he looked to the work of William Pope.L, best known for his legendary “Great White Way” piece, in which the artist dressed up as Superman and, elbow over elbow, dragged his way down the 22-mile stretch of New York City's Broadway. He strapped a skateboard to his back so he could roll through street crossings. Pope.L’s project took nine years to finish. “That was in response to racism. Ours is in response to bad planning," says Cudlin. "The developers want to promote Rosslyn as a place to live and not just work, but there are a lot of infrastructure challenges that go into that. You can’t just have a lot of fabulous parties and ignore the fact that it sucks to cross the street."
When he began his career as a painter, Cudlin said his art was sort of the opposite of what he does now. He spent long hours working to fill his canvas with art that “would resist criticism” and “stand mutely on a wall.” Eventually, he "wanted something messier, where someone could have a strongly negative reaction.” In 2010, Cudlin mounted his piece, "By Request," which he touted as the "ideal Washington art exhibition," drawn from collected polling data from D.C. collectors, critics, and curators. The Christopher Guest-like joke was that every piece, by a variety of artists, was an image of himself.
The potential for mortification and public awkwardness, Cudlin says, "is sort of a drug, once you discover it. You keep coming back to it because it scares you. I really believe the risk of failure is important. You set up these situations to look like a fool."
But Cudlin says he probably won't concern himself too much with people's reactions while he's crawling on the ground. "At a certain point I’m just lost in this shitty task I’ve appointed for myself."
photos courtesy of Steve Strawn
The Rosslyn Redpoint Team
Caitlin Tucker
Caitlin Tucker was born and raised in the wilds of southern New Jersey. In 2011, she received her BFA in Curatorial Studies with a minor in painting from Moore College of Art & Design in Philadelphia, PA. During her tenure at Moore, Tucker curated the Sixth Floor Gallery, a student-run space, and realized an exhibition of works by Gordon Matta-Clark for her senior thesis. She has interned at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Marginal Utility in Philadelphia, and Jonathan LeVine Gallery in Chelsea, NYC.
She currently resides in Baltimore, MD where she is a Curatorial Practice MFA Candidate '14 at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) and works as an Education Assistant at the Walters Art Museum. Her current obsessions include Gabriel Garcia Marquez's In Evil Hour, mid-century modern furniture, and the paintings of Imi Knoebel and Philip Guston.
1) You're not a performance artist per se--in fact, you trained as a painter. Have you participated in performance pieces before? Or are you just plunging into the deep end here?
You're right, I'm trained as a painter, not a performance artist. Though since I generally work very large, there's something about painting that really talks about the scale and use of the body to me. I've always enjoyed performance art, and the idea of doing it myself, so this seemed like a good opportunity to plunge!
2) We've talked a bit about urban planning and sprawl for this project. Tell me about the unusual community in which you grew up.
I grew up in Willingboro, a former Levittown in New Jersey. My grandparents live in the same house they bought in the early 60's and my mom grew up there when Levitt & Sons were still developing the place, so I'm really a product of multi-generational experience. Growing up I heard stories about Willingboro that did not match my lived experience at all, which really started my interest in urban planning and sprawl. Definitely a place where planning a "perfect community" totally failed. Following blockbusting in the 70's, the once white-only community is now predominantly African American and Hispanic. There are also large immigrant and refugee communities developing. All the houses are still made of ticky-tacky, but it's plagued with a terrible school system, gangs, increasing poverty, and drugs. It's an amazingly resilient community despite all that though.
3) As a current Curatorial Practice MFA candidate, you're tasked with thinking about audience development, social justice, community action. Do you feel like this project has any socially redeeming value, or is it borderline self-indulgent spectacle? Why should anyone care about what we're doing?
For me, this project has a total Gordon Matta-Clark vibe in its purpose, though maybe a little less so in its execution. It's about the change in urban life, what happens when we remove or alter part of our environs. Though I see our connection to the great William Pope.L, I don't know if we're making a statement on par with his in The Great White Way. [22 miles versus 2. From a purely mathematical perspective, it's not even close--Jeffry]
I think if we make any of the people in Rosslyn rethink their environs through our hilarious, weird intervention into their lives, then it becomes more than a self-indulgent mess. That means our purpose, somehow, is to really do more than just crawl past them while sweating, it has to be clear that what we're doing is a consideration of the strange urban planning they experience every day.
4) What kind of projects are you currently interested in as a curator? If you we're curating a show of performance work--or, say, a whole festival of it--what kinds of pieces and/or arguments would you champion?
Currently really digging any type of work that builds a structure for viewers to enter, and then gives them something to think about while in that space. So, like, Rachael Shannon of the MFA in Community Art just did this amazing inflatable that was a space for women to feel comfortable in while topless (or not). She did a ton of research about national laws regarding women being topless in public, and that is also referenced in the piece.
I'm also still completely taken with the work of Abigail Deville, who I've worked with in the past. Her work is about her family, her experience growing up in the Bronx, and her experience as a black woman in America, among other things. She builds these dirty, semi-dangerous structures out of trash and recycled material which are informed by things like Cornel West's writing, and her research on black holes.
I like big stuff that you can interact with, things that are larger than life and ask you to be cognizant of the things outside yourself.
5) You used to run track in high school...but I gather you now have some knee trouble. Do you have a death wish? Are you a masochist? What's going on here?
Yeah, my joints are pretty much shot, but that's kind of the appeal. If there's an opportunity to make other people cringe with a description of something I managed to make myself do, I'll take it. So many people think this sounds awful! Also, there's something that wonderful about having a totally awful/weird experience with only a couple other people and being forever bonded through it.
6) You're a former student of mine, and soon-to-be Graduate Teaching Intern. You do realize there's no extra credit option here, right?
As long as there's an extra burrito option.
She currently resides in Baltimore, MD where she is a Curatorial Practice MFA Candidate '14 at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) and works as an Education Assistant at the Walters Art Museum. Her current obsessions include Gabriel Garcia Marquez's In Evil Hour, mid-century modern furniture, and the paintings of Imi Knoebel and Philip Guston.
1) You're not a performance artist per se--in fact, you trained as a painter. Have you participated in performance pieces before? Or are you just plunging into the deep end here?
You're right, I'm trained as a painter, not a performance artist. Though since I generally work very large, there's something about painting that really talks about the scale and use of the body to me. I've always enjoyed performance art, and the idea of doing it myself, so this seemed like a good opportunity to plunge!
2) We've talked a bit about urban planning and sprawl for this project. Tell me about the unusual community in which you grew up.
I grew up in Willingboro, a former Levittown in New Jersey. My grandparents live in the same house they bought in the early 60's and my mom grew up there when Levitt & Sons were still developing the place, so I'm really a product of multi-generational experience. Growing up I heard stories about Willingboro that did not match my lived experience at all, which really started my interest in urban planning and sprawl. Definitely a place where planning a "perfect community" totally failed. Following blockbusting in the 70's, the once white-only community is now predominantly African American and Hispanic. There are also large immigrant and refugee communities developing. All the houses are still made of ticky-tacky, but it's plagued with a terrible school system, gangs, increasing poverty, and drugs. It's an amazingly resilient community despite all that though.
3) As a current Curatorial Practice MFA candidate, you're tasked with thinking about audience development, social justice, community action. Do you feel like this project has any socially redeeming value, or is it borderline self-indulgent spectacle? Why should anyone care about what we're doing?
For me, this project has a total Gordon Matta-Clark vibe in its purpose, though maybe a little less so in its execution. It's about the change in urban life, what happens when we remove or alter part of our environs. Though I see our connection to the great William Pope.L, I don't know if we're making a statement on par with his in The Great White Way. [22 miles versus 2. From a purely mathematical perspective, it's not even close--Jeffry]
I think if we make any of the people in Rosslyn rethink their environs through our hilarious, weird intervention into their lives, then it becomes more than a self-indulgent mess. That means our purpose, somehow, is to really do more than just crawl past them while sweating, it has to be clear that what we're doing is a consideration of the strange urban planning they experience every day.
4) What kind of projects are you currently interested in as a curator? If you we're curating a show of performance work--or, say, a whole festival of it--what kinds of pieces and/or arguments would you champion?
Currently really digging any type of work that builds a structure for viewers to enter, and then gives them something to think about while in that space. So, like, Rachael Shannon of the MFA in Community Art just did this amazing inflatable that was a space for women to feel comfortable in while topless (or not). She did a ton of research about national laws regarding women being topless in public, and that is also referenced in the piece.
I'm also still completely taken with the work of Abigail Deville, who I've worked with in the past. Her work is about her family, her experience growing up in the Bronx, and her experience as a black woman in America, among other things. She builds these dirty, semi-dangerous structures out of trash and recycled material which are informed by things like Cornel West's writing, and her research on black holes.
I like big stuff that you can interact with, things that are larger than life and ask you to be cognizant of the things outside yourself.
5) You used to run track in high school...but I gather you now have some knee trouble. Do you have a death wish? Are you a masochist? What's going on here?
Yeah, my joints are pretty much shot, but that's kind of the appeal. If there's an opportunity to make other people cringe with a description of something I managed to make myself do, I'll take it. So many people think this sounds awful! Also, there's something that wonderful about having a totally awful/weird experience with only a couple other people and being forever bonded through it.
6) You're a former student of mine, and soon-to-be Graduate Teaching Intern. You do realize there's no extra credit option here, right?
As long as there's an extra burrito option.
Maggie Schneider
Maggie Schneider is a Baltimore-based multimedia artist with a primary focus in video and performance. Currently, she is an MFA candidate at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) and dances with the Effervescent Collective.
She has participated in performance events such as Nick Cave's HEARD.NY and Rooms Fall Apart, as well as several individual performances throughout the past year at MICA. Her present body of work consists of videos, dance/performance, and installation, all of which analyze physicality, investigate space, and facilitate intervention of her body in various environments.
1) You're the only member of this team with any rock climbing experience to speak of. How do you think that experience translates to the sorts of movements we'll be doing? Are you going to be schooling Caitlin and I?
I don't necessarily think I will be schoolin' you and Caitlin. My personal experience with rock climbing will benefit the performance in the fact that I understand the type of movement we will be mimicking and I can provide some insight into how we complete our journey. Ultimately, we are creating new movement and each of us will bring our bodies, complete with the muscle memory of our physical lives, into this temporary but difficult physical task.
2) As this festival has been gearing up, I find myself increasingly talking to artists who come from theater, or, more often, who are trained in dance—not just MFAs approaching this from a visual art/gallery world perspective. You currently work with the Effervescent Collective, a Baltimore-based dance organization. How do you view the connection between dance and performance art? How might a visual artist and a dancer approach performance art differently?
Dance is performance. The connection between dance and performance art lies in the ephemeral nature of both. While most dance and performance art pieces can be repeated, the experience of performing and watching a performance cannot be replicated and the power of dance and performance grows out of that experience of temporality. The work of a visual artist, dancer and performance artist tend to intersect on a variety of technical, conceptual, and personal levels. For me, being a visual artist, dancer, and performance artist, there is an ongoing dialogue. My work as a visual artist informs my dancing which informs my performance practice—which in turn informs me as a visual artist. It is a multi-disciplinary creative cycle.
3) You're a performance artist with your own practice. Why sign up to work with another artist on her or his project? What's in it for you here—other than eight hours of tranced-out misery?
One of my main objectives, as an artist, is to be available to my creative community in whatever capacity I am needed. As a life-long student, I believe there is always more to be learned, especially from others who practice in the same field. Through my participation in this piece, I expect to gain deeper insight into site-specific performance work, complete a physical challenge that both excites and terrifies me, and demonstrate the value of artists working together and for one another.
4) What's your take on endurance in performance pieces? Why are you drawn to it?
Endurance in performance art is captivating, awe-inspiring, and crazy. I am drawn to endurance work because I want to captivate, inspire awe, and I am a little bit crazy. Part of the appeal in endurance work as well as dance, is the physical demand and the command one has over her body. The human body is an incredible medium and tool and because my creative practice directly engages my body, it is important for me to regularly expand and challenge my mind and body through endurance.
5) You're also a videographer/video editor, and you've worked with other artists to edit their documentation. How do you approach cutting together documentation of a live performance for later viewing in a gallery? What do you think are the most important considerations when showing video of a piece that had a definite duration, in a specific place? And how would you want the eight hours we're going to spend together to be presented as a video in a gallery?
I think of myself as a video choreographer, especially when I am editing dance/movement footage. When tasked with representing a live performance with a video, I approach it as a separate work entirely.
I plan on taking video footage of our trek using a GoPro camera and a couple of body harnesses. I've spent the past year experimenting with the GoPro and finding successful ways to express a physical experience while simultaneously creating captivating video footage. The challenge in translating this project into a video suitable for gallery viewing lies in my ability to work with the footage captured, condensing the physical endurance into a visual experience, and understanding the context of a gallery.
6) If it rains tomorrow, are you never going to speak to me again?
If it rains, this performance will be different. I believe in accepting the present moment. While I may curse you all day long, at the end of it all, I will thank you for the opportunity.
She has participated in performance events such as Nick Cave's HEARD.NY and Rooms Fall Apart, as well as several individual performances throughout the past year at MICA. Her present body of work consists of videos, dance/performance, and installation, all of which analyze physicality, investigate space, and facilitate intervention of her body in various environments.
1) You're the only member of this team with any rock climbing experience to speak of. How do you think that experience translates to the sorts of movements we'll be doing? Are you going to be schooling Caitlin and I?
I don't necessarily think I will be schoolin' you and Caitlin. My personal experience with rock climbing will benefit the performance in the fact that I understand the type of movement we will be mimicking and I can provide some insight into how we complete our journey. Ultimately, we are creating new movement and each of us will bring our bodies, complete with the muscle memory of our physical lives, into this temporary but difficult physical task.
2) As this festival has been gearing up, I find myself increasingly talking to artists who come from theater, or, more often, who are trained in dance—not just MFAs approaching this from a visual art/gallery world perspective. You currently work with the Effervescent Collective, a Baltimore-based dance organization. How do you view the connection between dance and performance art? How might a visual artist and a dancer approach performance art differently?
Dance is performance. The connection between dance and performance art lies in the ephemeral nature of both. While most dance and performance art pieces can be repeated, the experience of performing and watching a performance cannot be replicated and the power of dance and performance grows out of that experience of temporality. The work of a visual artist, dancer and performance artist tend to intersect on a variety of technical, conceptual, and personal levels. For me, being a visual artist, dancer, and performance artist, there is an ongoing dialogue. My work as a visual artist informs my dancing which informs my performance practice—which in turn informs me as a visual artist. It is a multi-disciplinary creative cycle.
3) You're a performance artist with your own practice. Why sign up to work with another artist on her or his project? What's in it for you here—other than eight hours of tranced-out misery?
One of my main objectives, as an artist, is to be available to my creative community in whatever capacity I am needed. As a life-long student, I believe there is always more to be learned, especially from others who practice in the same field. Through my participation in this piece, I expect to gain deeper insight into site-specific performance work, complete a physical challenge that both excites and terrifies me, and demonstrate the value of artists working together and for one another.
4) What's your take on endurance in performance pieces? Why are you drawn to it?
Endurance in performance art is captivating, awe-inspiring, and crazy. I am drawn to endurance work because I want to captivate, inspire awe, and I am a little bit crazy. Part of the appeal in endurance work as well as dance, is the physical demand and the command one has over her body. The human body is an incredible medium and tool and because my creative practice directly engages my body, it is important for me to regularly expand and challenge my mind and body through endurance.
5) You're also a videographer/video editor, and you've worked with other artists to edit their documentation. How do you approach cutting together documentation of a live performance for later viewing in a gallery? What do you think are the most important considerations when showing video of a piece that had a definite duration, in a specific place? And how would you want the eight hours we're going to spend together to be presented as a video in a gallery?
I think of myself as a video choreographer, especially when I am editing dance/movement footage. When tasked with representing a live performance with a video, I approach it as a separate work entirely.
I plan on taking video footage of our trek using a GoPro camera and a couple of body harnesses. I've spent the past year experimenting with the GoPro and finding successful ways to express a physical experience while simultaneously creating captivating video footage. The challenge in translating this project into a video suitable for gallery viewing lies in my ability to work with the footage captured, condensing the physical endurance into a visual experience, and understanding the context of a gallery.
6) If it rains tomorrow, are you never going to speak to me again?
If it rains, this performance will be different. I believe in accepting the present moment. While I may curse you all day long, at the end of it all, I will thank you for the opportunity.
Catherine Akins
Catherine Akins enjoys taking photographs of lost pet flyers and dreams of becoming a figure skater. For now, she is spending her time in Baltimore, researching social and community art practices, contemporary dance, graphic novels and fanatic culture.
Catherine received her BFA in Intermedia Arts at Arizona State University and her MFA in Curatorial Practice at the Maryland Institute College of Art.
1) You're from Arizona originally. How has the East Coast been treating you? Are Rosslyn and/or DC completely disorienting?
In Rosslyn, I was interested in the skywalks and the architecture. It reminded me of the lines at Disney Land and how those can make you completely lose your bearings. Zig-zagging through space.
In Phoenix, there was a lot of land, and developers didn't need to build row homes or large skyscrapers—though we do have a few of those. I think mostly for some city business competition. But we are otherwise a pretty low and enormous metro area.
2) Why have you signed up for eight hours of this sweaty, sunburn-y madness? What do you expect to get out of it?
I've been interested in performance art for awhile and especially endurance and the "sport" of it. It takes a lot of discipline and a support system to pull off a performance piece. When I am a part of a performance in some way, I remember; the experience lingers and it carries through everything I do.
3) You're acting as an Ambassador, not a climber—keeping us alive; running interference; explaining what we're up to to passers-by. Does some part of you wish you were climbing as well, or are you happy to be upright for this thing?
I have to say that I'm happy to support and make sure the climbers are doing well and are motivated to keep going...but who wouldn't want to climb?!
I'm excited about both the physical challenge and the idea of a horizontal commute—and drawing an invisible line across a plane, something that nobody else will be doing at that time or place.
4) You seem a bit like a curator with what looks more like an artist's practice—or an artist who likes to champion other people's projects as a curator. How do you define your relationship to art—in Baltimore, or DC, or anywhere—and now that you've completed your MFA, where would you ideally want to position yourself in an art-world continuum?
Still trying to figure this out. Some sort of engaged resistance, which is the title of a book I read on Native American contemporary art. I have always been interested in wandering and coming across something unexpected, like an idea that changes everything.
I think I naturally gravitate to artists that are using the land or this idea of ownership of space. Objects in space and what that means. Politics and rallies are interesting in the lines that they make or draw—in the earth, in the time that we are living, etc.
5) What kinds of contemporary art projects are you most excited about? What have you seen or been involved with in Baltimore over the past two years that most clearly embodies your interests?
Right now, I am looking at artists like Gustavas Artigas, sports and games in art—and that might be in part thanks to your Triathlon of the Muses piece at (e)merge in 2011.
6) Do you think we're going to finish this thing?
Absolutely! With your dedication, Caitlin's enthusiasm and Maggie's experience I think you could do this 3 times that day! I am excited to be the cheerleader for all three of you and the rest of the team!
Catherine received her BFA in Intermedia Arts at Arizona State University and her MFA in Curatorial Practice at the Maryland Institute College of Art.
1) You're from Arizona originally. How has the East Coast been treating you? Are Rosslyn and/or DC completely disorienting?
In Rosslyn, I was interested in the skywalks and the architecture. It reminded me of the lines at Disney Land and how those can make you completely lose your bearings. Zig-zagging through space.
In Phoenix, there was a lot of land, and developers didn't need to build row homes or large skyscrapers—though we do have a few of those. I think mostly for some city business competition. But we are otherwise a pretty low and enormous metro area.
2) Why have you signed up for eight hours of this sweaty, sunburn-y madness? What do you expect to get out of it?
I've been interested in performance art for awhile and especially endurance and the "sport" of it. It takes a lot of discipline and a support system to pull off a performance piece. When I am a part of a performance in some way, I remember; the experience lingers and it carries through everything I do.
3) You're acting as an Ambassador, not a climber—keeping us alive; running interference; explaining what we're up to to passers-by. Does some part of you wish you were climbing as well, or are you happy to be upright for this thing?
I have to say that I'm happy to support and make sure the climbers are doing well and are motivated to keep going...but who wouldn't want to climb?!
I'm excited about both the physical challenge and the idea of a horizontal commute—and drawing an invisible line across a plane, something that nobody else will be doing at that time or place.
4) You seem a bit like a curator with what looks more like an artist's practice—or an artist who likes to champion other people's projects as a curator. How do you define your relationship to art—in Baltimore, or DC, or anywhere—and now that you've completed your MFA, where would you ideally want to position yourself in an art-world continuum?
Still trying to figure this out. Some sort of engaged resistance, which is the title of a book I read on Native American contemporary art. I have always been interested in wandering and coming across something unexpected, like an idea that changes everything.
I think I naturally gravitate to artists that are using the land or this idea of ownership of space. Objects in space and what that means. Politics and rallies are interesting in the lines that they make or draw—in the earth, in the time that we are living, etc.
5) What kinds of contemporary art projects are you most excited about? What have you seen or been involved with in Baltimore over the past two years that most clearly embodies your interests?
Right now, I am looking at artists like Gustavas Artigas, sports and games in art—and that might be in part thanks to your Triathlon of the Muses piece at (e)merge in 2011.
6) Do you think we're going to finish this thing?
Absolutely! With your dedication, Caitlin's enthusiasm and Maggie's experience I think you could do this 3 times that day! I am excited to be the cheerleader for all three of you and the rest of the team!
Rachel Schmidt
Rachel Schmidt is a mixed media contemporary artist living in the DC area. She is a Resident Artist at the Arlington Arts Center and works as an Exhibits Specialist at the Smithsonian Hirshhorn Museum. She received her MFA from the Maryland Institute College of Art and her BFA from the University of Kansas.
1) How would you describe the arts communities in Central Baltimore and DC/NoVA? And how does having a studio at Arlington Arts Center (AAC) compare to, say, a studio at the Copy Cat?
MICA and Baltimore have an explosive artistic energy. It's experimental, playful, strongly conceptual, and gave me a push in that direction during my studies. There is a great dialogue from artist to artist, it’s an environment of artists, which makes it easy to get an incredible studio and make art in a supportive environment, but hard to get a job.
DC/NoVA has loads of great places to work and gain experience in a part of the art world that pays the bills, but it's harder to find a studio, especially an affordable one. I do see things swinging in the right direction for DC—loads of new DIY spaces with great art and, of course, AAC exclusively supports contemporary artists.
There are a lot of artists from Baltimore who show in DC, but less DC artists who show in Baltimore and that seems unfortunate, but the reason behind that is outside of my expertise.
2) Your art practice involves sculpture, installation, drawing, photography, and definitely includes some performative elements. How would you define your relationship to performance art? Have you done any performance work yourself--or even pieces where the objects and environments you create have invited or required audience participation?
Performance terrifies me, but in many ways that can be a good thing. It has an enormously rich art historical context, but the majority of people aren't aware of the specifics of performance art history, which makes it a mine field for misinterpretation. I am starting to dabble in performance and it makes me nervous just thinking about it, but performance is certainly one of the most powerful ways to impact and create an experience for a viewer.
3) Shows of yours that I've seen have often been total environments, in which you transform the gallery space into a Victorian parlor, or a shrine-like space, or an odd domestic interior. How dependent is your work on the frame of the traditional white cube space? Have you done much work in raw spaces or in the public realm?
I enjoy transforming a raw space or public space just as much as the white cube, but those spaces seem to get viewed less by art goers and are for the random individuals that see or experience them. I do have a practice that generates a lot of individual pieces appropriate for group show settings.
The problem is that I love installation, if I could only work in installation, I would. Starting with a space and reacting with it and allowing it's natural power to shine through it's interaction with an artwork is an endlessly exciting to me.
4) How often do you find yourself hanging out in Rosslyn? Do you personally find it a welcoming environment? Do you often go to events at Artisphere--or since your studio is at AAC, is that like a rival gang, like the Sharks vs. the Jets or something?
I don't really hang out in Rosslyn, it is a cold and disconnected business/working environment—what would I do if I was to hang out there? I don't think there is a rival gang situation, unless you look at the competition for funding, which is always a sore point for NoVA.
5) Why did you sign on to help with this piece? I take it you're taking a day off work to help out. I'm feeling seriously guilty that you would burn a vacation day on this project!
Like I said, performance terrifies me, but it is so exciting and I have always been a big fan of your work. Also, I am admittedly worried that you might get yourself killed and I want to be there to try to stop it, or at least photograph it!
1) How would you describe the arts communities in Central Baltimore and DC/NoVA? And how does having a studio at Arlington Arts Center (AAC) compare to, say, a studio at the Copy Cat?
MICA and Baltimore have an explosive artistic energy. It's experimental, playful, strongly conceptual, and gave me a push in that direction during my studies. There is a great dialogue from artist to artist, it’s an environment of artists, which makes it easy to get an incredible studio and make art in a supportive environment, but hard to get a job.
DC/NoVA has loads of great places to work and gain experience in a part of the art world that pays the bills, but it's harder to find a studio, especially an affordable one. I do see things swinging in the right direction for DC—loads of new DIY spaces with great art and, of course, AAC exclusively supports contemporary artists.
There are a lot of artists from Baltimore who show in DC, but less DC artists who show in Baltimore and that seems unfortunate, but the reason behind that is outside of my expertise.
2) Your art practice involves sculpture, installation, drawing, photography, and definitely includes some performative elements. How would you define your relationship to performance art? Have you done any performance work yourself--or even pieces where the objects and environments you create have invited or required audience participation?
Performance terrifies me, but in many ways that can be a good thing. It has an enormously rich art historical context, but the majority of people aren't aware of the specifics of performance art history, which makes it a mine field for misinterpretation. I am starting to dabble in performance and it makes me nervous just thinking about it, but performance is certainly one of the most powerful ways to impact and create an experience for a viewer.
3) Shows of yours that I've seen have often been total environments, in which you transform the gallery space into a Victorian parlor, or a shrine-like space, or an odd domestic interior. How dependent is your work on the frame of the traditional white cube space? Have you done much work in raw spaces or in the public realm?
I enjoy transforming a raw space or public space just as much as the white cube, but those spaces seem to get viewed less by art goers and are for the random individuals that see or experience them. I do have a practice that generates a lot of individual pieces appropriate for group show settings.
The problem is that I love installation, if I could only work in installation, I would. Starting with a space and reacting with it and allowing it's natural power to shine through it's interaction with an artwork is an endlessly exciting to me.
4) How often do you find yourself hanging out in Rosslyn? Do you personally find it a welcoming environment? Do you often go to events at Artisphere--or since your studio is at AAC, is that like a rival gang, like the Sharks vs. the Jets or something?
I don't really hang out in Rosslyn, it is a cold and disconnected business/working environment—what would I do if I was to hang out there? I don't think there is a rival gang situation, unless you look at the competition for funding, which is always a sore point for NoVA.
5) Why did you sign on to help with this piece? I take it you're taking a day off work to help out. I'm feeling seriously guilty that you would burn a vacation day on this project!
Like I said, performance terrifies me, but it is so exciting and I have always been a big fan of your work. Also, I am admittedly worried that you might get yourself killed and I want to be there to try to stop it, or at least photograph it!
Allison Gulick
Allison Gulick received her MFA from the Maryland Institution College of Art in Curatorial Practice in 2013, and her BA with a concentration in Art History in 2011 from the University of North Carolina at Asheville.
For her thesis project, Reloading the Canon: African Traditions in Contemporary Art, Gulick addressed the influence of African art on the Western canon of art history, as well as situated its influence within the context of historical and contemporary art works. The exhibition drew on the James E. Lewis Museum’s collections of traditional African artifacts and contemporary works, as well as other artworks from local and regional artists working within the themes of perception and cultural identity.
She has interned with the Baltimore Museum of Art, in the Decorative Arts department, rehousing the museum’s collection of keys. Allison has an addiction to coffee, chocolate, and British period dramas. She has a poker face that would put Lady Gaga to shame and in her spare time she rescues feral cats.
For her thesis project, Reloading the Canon: African Traditions in Contemporary Art, Gulick addressed the influence of African art on the Western canon of art history, as well as situated its influence within the context of historical and contemporary art works. The exhibition drew on the James E. Lewis Museum’s collections of traditional African artifacts and contemporary works, as well as other artworks from local and regional artists working within the themes of perception and cultural identity.
She has interned with the Baltimore Museum of Art, in the Decorative Arts department, rehousing the museum’s collection of keys. Allison has an addiction to coffee, chocolate, and British period dramas. She has a poker face that would put Lady Gaga to shame and in her spare time she rescues feral cats.