TEDxMet: Get on the Machine and Try

I woke up Saturday morning, petted my cat, made some tea, settled in to check Facebook, and then to get some work done.  While going through the well-tread scroll of Facebook, I discovered the TEDxMet event and that the museum was live streaming it all day.  There went my productive plans.  Watching a TED event in collaboration with the Met. does not constitute an unproductive day, especially since I am producing this post.  But work for the day was shot to pieces. 

Throughout watching this event that mixed scholars and artists, I felt like I was part of something monumental, all from the comfort of my couch and pajamas.  That's my kind of event. 

Even if I did not accomplish what I wanted that day, I was inspired, gained new ideas, and gathered some food for thought, plus some laughs.  

I am going to chronicle my own highlights and some of the things I learned or was inspired by.  Of course, for a full account you just had to be there or watching.  

To open, Luke Syson, the Met's curator of European Art, discussed his transfer to the Met and the power of art to open the imagination.  Before coming to the Met, he worked on the blockbuster Leonardo exhibit at the National Gallery in London.  So his icon began as the Mona Lisa, but when he came to the Met he saw these two ornate vases with elephant heads and he thought "what have I go myself into?" and "this is why people revolted." Over time he grew fond of the pink and gold vase.  He realized that this object was an opening for the imagination, literally pink elephants on parade.  That the decoration at the bottom reminded one of a tutu, that this object dances without moving.  Originally, he thought it was just useless relic, but discovered the protruding trunks functioned as candle holders.  Imagine the skirt of the vases and the flickering light of the candles.  Envisioning the dance?  He ended by pointing out that we let our imaginations be dictated to by the screen (movies and television) without creating these new visions for ourselves.  He makes the justification that art enlivens and inspires one's imagination.  

My drawings and notes from Syson's talk at the top and then my attempt at capturing Mark's performance at the bottom.

Then there was the performance composed by Meredith Mark.  This consisted of a male and female facing each other across the stage. At its most basic the two were humming and ha-ing at each other in a musical back-and-forth.  They gradually came closer as the ha-ing became faster until they were almost touching.  Then the ha-ing overlaps into a beautiful conclusion and climax.  They slow down and drift apart.  This speaks to the slow coming together of two lovers, their happy climax, and the gradual drift apart.  

The structure of the event shifts back to the scholarly with Eric Kandal (an adorable elderly man in a red bow tie) and his talk on portraiture from brain sciences perspective.  He echoes a wish had by many "boring" fields: a desire for science to become as popular as football.  Something I wished many times for art history.  He takes us back to Darwin, who understood sex as essential to human's and that preference for a suitable mate appears in facial expressions.  Every one's face contains the same structural components: two eyes, nose, mouth, and circular head.  (Although I did hear about a man with no nose the other day and there are more cases like that.)  Because of the similar make up, there is a limited number of ways to express emotions.  I believe the total is 7.  A viewer also recognizes a line drawing more than the actual portrait because the fundamental components of a face are easier to see in a line drawing.  Kandal takes us on a quick romp through the history of portraits beginning with prehistoric figures of females, who dominate the scene till the Greeks prefer the man's body. The development of portraits go from royalty to the rich to depicting the same subjects but attempting to convey their inner psychology.  Ultimately, neuroscience teaches us that art affects mainly two parts of the brain: the frontal cortex and the area that produces dopamine.  Dopamine is commonly used for love and happiness.  Art literally makes us fall in love with it.  

"They held me down.  

They held me down.  

They held me down."

Poignant evocation against violence, specifically the kind that wants to stop people from being themselves.  Kyle Abraham enters the stage exuberantly, calling to all the boroughs of NYC, but then he slides into a desperate childlike plea for "Mommy."  This tearful cry relies on repetition, his acting ability, and the tragic subject matter of violence towards a child.  He intersperses these cries with dance that strongly relies on arm movements, all while a beat flows in the background.  The phrases and the way he acts them out still haunt me.  I hope to never forget this plea.  It stands as a reminder of all that still needs to be done for equality.      

My idea of the icon follows Melaine Holcombs, curator at the Met, and the art historical use of the term, mainly Byzantine religious paintings.  Visually, for me that is a Madonna and Child with a gold background or simply a half-length of bearded Jesus with a gold background.  The gold background is highly necessary in understanding the importance of the subject matter and focusing the attention on the subject.  Holcombs uses a fabulous anecdote about a milk spurting Virgin Mary statue and a credulous viewer in order to illustrate the power of the viewer.  This man visits a powerful statue without believing in its ability to perform miracles and the statue literally throws its power in his face.  The Middle Ages are full of such fantastic stories, but this one speaks to the imagination of the viewer.  It tells us to approach art with skepticism, but to be open to arts ability to affect us, to provide a person with a spiritual experience, not necessarily religious but profound and inspirational. 

One artistic performance, begins with a video of action architect Elizabeth Streb.  She states that the only way to know something is to get up on the machine and try it out.  Through this experience you live.  The performance consists of a large semicircle big enough for a human to stand in.  A woman moves back and forth inside it, thus making it rock.  A group of seven dancers alternately climb on top and ride with the machine, literally jumping in and trying out the machine.  A wonderful lesson to just try, to experience, because without that initial plunge, you come up empty handed.  

The top right shows my sketches for Elizabeth's Streb's performance piece. 

Through this event I learned, grew, and became inspired.  I am infinitely glad I spent a Saturday in my pajamas watching this.