Heather Winter, Milwaukee Art Museum Librarian/Archivist

Each day, hundreds of visitors enter the Milwaukee Art Museum to stare in awe at the incredible wealth of artworks within the museum’s collection. But what can too often go unrecognized is the equally awe-inspiring work of the many museum staff members, without whom the museum in its current state could not exist. “MAM Behind the Scenes” is a blog series written by Digital Learning intern Emma Fallone to showcase the wide range of positions that make up a museum, and to reveal just a few of of the many people whose work makes the Milwaukee Art Museum a source of inspiration and education. We begin with Heather Winter, Librarian and Archivist.

Can you give a brief description of your job, in thirty seconds or less?
A little bit of anything and everything. My responsibility is to take questions about the Museum’s collection and history, and then answer them with any number of materials from the library or the institutional archives. It’s my job to know where those materials are, and to use them to answer the questions quickly and accurately.

What would be a “typical day” in the life of a librarian/archivist?
None! The day can change based on exhibition changes, or research that’s going on within the Museum for publications. We mirror what’s happening in the Museum, from multiple departments at once – and also from the public. Sometimes there will be a lot of interest in a particular artist – for example, if a certain painting sells for a high price at auction and makes the news, we’ll often suddenly get a number of inquiries for information about the artist and the work. So, we really follow the trail of things that are happening everywhere else in the Museum.

What is your favorite part of your job?
Whenever people have projects that they’re working on, I have the benefit of getting to learn a bit about the subject matter, as well. So, every day I get to learn something new! It’s very satisfying, and also constantly interesting, as there are never two days or topics that are identical.

Is there anything that you have learned in the past, through your research, which has especially interested or surprised you?
Yes! Some of the lesser-known facets of the Milwaukee Art Museum’s history have really stunned me. Did you know that we held the first Cubist exhibition in the country, in 1914? We also had a very early retrospective on the work of Henry Ossawa Tanner, an amazing African-American artist. And, I recently learned that one of our former directors was the uncle of Orson Welles! And it was so interesting, because when you watch the work of Orson Welles and see the distinctive, visual way that he tells his stories, it sounds so much like the way that this director ran the Museum. There’s definitely a book waiting to be written about it!

What is one challenge that you have encountered in your work?
Definitely that there’s not enough time in the day – or enough coffee in my cup! There are just never enough hours to follow an interesting historical story all the way to its root, because there are so many things that need to be done. As a librarian, you have to be very responsive to the needs of the rest of the Museum and the public. There are definitely days when I wish I could just lock my office door for six months and only research the things that I’m interested in – but that’s not going to happen! However, I definitely feel fortunate to have the opportunity to learn as much as I do, about so many diverse aspects of history.

Is there something unusual or unique about your position that most people may not know?
That I exist! Many people are surprised that an art museum would even have a librarian. But when you think about it, it soon becomes clear what an essential role the library and archives play in the life of the Museum. We’re constantly researching the collection – there’s so much more to be known about the artists and artwork. Just because a work of art is on a wall in a museum, that’s not the end of the story. Names and dates can change – and so can even the painting’s attribution to a particular artist. The works of art within the Museum’s collection are alive and constantly in flux, as we learn more and more information about them.

Heather Winter, Milwaukee Art Museum Librarian/Archivist

Why do you believe that art and art museums are important in today’s society?
There’s a mistaken assumption today that the only way that we have communicated traditionally is through the written word. In many ways, this is understandable when we consider the issue of accessibility – while it’s easy to for anyone to find and read Shakespeare, because Hamlet is available in every library and bookstore, it’s completely different and perhaps more challenging to access art. You can really only do it by visiting a museum – there’s just such a uniqueness about seeing a work of art in person. And art is such a powerful mode of communication, about ourselves and how we have developed, in the context of our society and environment. It’s constantly changing and evolving, with new techniques and media, new design characteristics – all of which reflect and preserve a moment in time. For this reason, I think the preservation and appreciation of art remains highly important and valuable today.

Is there anything that you would like to tell future visitors to the Milwaukee Art Museum?
You know, I would say: don’t tell them anything. I want visitors to look at the artwork and rely on their instincts, and to interpret the works for themselves. Because whatever their instincts are, they are valid and deserve to be felt. I think there’s a lot of intimidation associated with viewing works within a museum setting – people often believe that their feelings and interpretations are “wrong” in some way. So, I would like people to come in to the Museum and feel comfortable embracing their instincts, and to recognize that each person’s unique response to an artwork is correct and valid.

And, finally: what is your favorite work in the Museum’s collection?
Oh – Mark Rothko, absolutely. I’ve never seen a work of art move – and that one, if you sit and look at it for a while, it just pulses. It’s incredible.

Read more “MAM Behind the Scenes” features here.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Tony Oursler (American, b. 1957), MMPI (Self-Portrait in Yellow), 1996. Video installation with video projector, VCR, video tape, small cloth figure, and metal folding chair. Dimensions variable. Milwaukee Art Museum, Purchase, with funds from Donald and Donna Baumgartner, Marianne and Sheldon B. Lubar, Allen and Vicki Samson, Dr. and Mrs. Philip Shovers, and Sibyl and David Wescoe. M1998.136a-i. Photo credit: Larry Sanders

“Sometimes I just don’t get the jokes.”
“I get angry quickly, and let it go just as fast.”
“I have few regrets.”
“I’m a difficult person to get close to.”
“I like to watch television.”
“I would be much better off, if not for a family member.”
“I am a leader, not a follower.”
“Sometimes I can’t feel the top of my head.”

Children gather around him, asking timid questions in the hopes that this living doll will answer back. Adults stand back and ponder, trying to puzzle out the meanings of his seemingly unconnected phrases, and debating whether an assemblage of a toy and a chair can even be constituted as art. The little yellow doll has both critics and fans aplenty – he has even had his own Facebook group, as hundreds of art lovers banded together to implore the museum to keep the “guy with the chair on his head” out for public display after he was briefly moved into storage in 2007. Yet for all those who view him, the question remains: What is the meaning of this little man? What message are his statements attempting to convey?

Tony Oursler (American, b. 1957), MMPI (Self-Portrait in Yellow), 1996. Video installation with video projector, VCR, video tape, small cloth figure, and metal folding chair. Dimensions variable. Milwaukee Art Museum, Purchase, with funds from Donald and Donna Baumgartner, Marianne and Sheldon B. Lubar, Allen and Vicki Samson, Dr. and Mrs. Philip Shovers, and Sibyl and David Wescoe. M1998.136a-i. Photo credit: Larry Sanders

The answer requires a bit of research into the artist. Tony Oursler was born in 1957 and came into prominence as a contemporary artist in the late twentieth century. His works tend to incorporate video projectors and inanimate, found objects. During the time that he created this work, entitled MMPI (Self-Portrait in Yellow), he was focusing on the conception of mental illness within American society. In this series, Oursler made himself a key part of his works, using his own experiences to reveal and reflect the questions and insecurities about our own psychological state, which are so often internalized and not discussed aloud.

How did he accomplish this? Well, Oursler was in many ways a typical American man, who had not been diagnosed with any specific mental illness. Yet he was aware of the large issues and harmful stigma associated with the perception of mental illness in today’s society. How can we make a division between those who are “normal” and those who are not? Isn’t everyone a bit troubled, a bit unusual, in their own way? To Oursler, the creation of this false division between those who are psychologically “healthy” and those who are not was symbolized by the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory, or MMPI. This infamous series of yes/no questions, created by a team of psychologists in 1939, was used for decades as one of the main modes of psychological health assessment. Simply put, if you answered a certain way, you were “healthy” – if you did not, then you were diagnosed with one of a number of psychological illnesses. Oursler recognized the fallacy of the entire concept of such a test: How can there be simply one set of correct “normal” answers, for an entire diverse population? And how can we even say that there is any one person who is completely “sane”? What does “sane” even mean?

To come to terms with these questions, Oursler took the MMPI test himself. And then, he made a bold decision: Instead of trying to determine a diagnosis for himself, he left the interpretation of his results to the public. The image projected onto the doll in Oursler’s work is a video of the artist himself, emotionlessly reciting his own answers to the psychological test. Encountering these statements entirely without context, each viewer is left to interpret them individually, to decide if the little doll-man is truly sane – and in the process, we are led to question whether such a categorization can truly even exist.

The “guy with the chair on his head” is without question a polarizing work. Some visitors find him amusing and cute. Others see him as an oddity, and perhaps even a bit depressing. And some find the little doll disturbing, with his arbitrary, unfeeling statements – which somehow seem to be both entirely strange and unpredictable and, at the same time, a bit too familiar.

Yet after I learned the significance behind his phrases, I began to find this strange little doll to be, in a way, reassuring. The “guy with the chair on his head” does what so many of us are afraid to do: He reveals his own internal struggles, his own quirks and oddities, reassuring us that perhaps there is no such thing as perfect “sanity.” Oursler’s work reminds us that we are not alone in our oddities – that yes, everyone is a bit unusual, and that that’s okay.

So the next time you’re wandering through the galleries and hear an unusual monotone voice off in the distance, have no fear – it’s just Tony, bravely challenging society’s perception of psychological illness, one incongruous phrase at a time. And if you’re intrigued enough to stop by for a visit, most likely, you won’t be alone.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

David Russick, Exhibition Designer. Photo by the author

This is the second in a series of blog posts highlighting a variety of different positions within the Milwaukee Art Museum. Each day, hundreds of visitors enter the Milwaukee Art Museum to stare in awe at the incredible wealth of artworks within the museum’s collection. But what can too often go unrecognized is the equally awe-inspiring work of the many museum staff members, without whom the museum in its current state could not exist. “MAM Behind the Scenes” is a blog series written by Digital Learning intern Emma Fallone to showcase the wide range of positions that make up a museum, and to reveal just a few of the many people whose work makes the Milwaukee Art Museum a source of inspiration and education.

Can you give a brief description of your job, in thirty seconds or less?
To use an analogy: the exhibition designer is the person who shows up on moving day when you’re moving into a new apartment, and helps you to arrange everything so that the space is used efficiently and everything looks really good! At the Milwaukee Art Museum, the “apartment” is usually the special exhibition space, which is cleared out and rearranged for each new show. So, every time we have a new special exhibit, it’s like one tenant is moving out and another is moving in – and their belongings are the artworks which are going to be displayed. The exhibition designer works with the curator to figure out what goes where, so that you don’t have your kitchen appliances in the bathroom, so to speak!

What would be a “typical day” in the life of an exhibition designer?
You always come ready to problem-solve. I always have to keep one eye on function and one on form. You’re always trying to find good, practical solutions which also feel very exciting and engaging.

What is your favorite part of your job?
Well, I’ll have to slightly contradict what I just said – because no two days really are the same. The specifics of the set of circumstances that you happen to be working under always requires a new type of solution. So, that’s a very rewarding aspect: you can hone your skill in terms of what you do well – thinking about space, color, traffic flow – but, if you’re like I try to be, you also try not to fall back on the same solutions every time. It definitely keeps you engaged and challenged.

Is there anything that you have done in the past, any particular problem that you have had to solve, which has especially interested or surprised you?
The last two exhibits that we’ve put on, Uncommon Folk and Thomas Sully, both had opportunities for us to create unique areas within the larger space of the exhibition gallery. After seeing the list of paintings for the Sully show, I realized that we had a group of works in which the importance was not on the order in which they were painted, but rather on revealing and highlighting the connections that they had to each other. So, we created an open room where you could take in and appreciate all of those works almost simultaneously. And then we once again had an opportunity to revisit this technique with the Uncommon Folk layout. This is what really makes my work fun for me, encountering the challenge and figuring out how to solve it. Each problem becomes an opportunity to problem-solve, in an even more clever fashion.

This is really what we do in exhibition design – we’re like the invisible man in the room. To draw a comparison, if you go to a big party, and the food is fantastic, and the service is incredible, and the music is all well-chosen, and the temperature in the room is never too warm or too cold, it all adds up to a wonderful experience. But, during the evening, you’ll never consciously think about the temperature in the room – unless it is too hot or too cold, in which case it’s the only thing that you’ll be able to think about. A lot of what we do is like that. After the fact, a guest might think, that was really a great party – or a great exhibit, in my case – but more often than not, our work isn’t really thought about, unless something didn’t work correctly.

But this is the way of many things in life – it’s much the same for the work of a doctor, or a newspaper editor. Exhibition design is lucky in the sense that you really do have the ability to “raise your own bar,” so to speak. It comes from constantly working to innovate, to be ever more creative. In approaching a problem, when creating a new exhibit, you could always use the same solutions, which would be perfectly fine. You can do good exhibit design by rote, if you’re a really good exhibition designer. But you can do great exhibition design by being a good exhibition designer, and then pretending that each project that you do is the first time you’ve ever designed something. Exhibition design really benefits from that kind of creative approach.

View of the exhibition model. Photo by the author

Is there something unusual or unique about your position that most people may not know?
One of the things that people probably don’t think too much about is actually one of the most elementary parts of the design of an exhibit: traffic flow. I personally find it one of the most challenging aspects. What is the best way to guide people through a space? The really simple solution is always the back-and-forth “S curve” shape, with one clear path for people to follow. To me, this can feel a bit like a ride on a water slide: you go in there and are pushed through a series of twists and turns, you have a great time for the entire path, and then you get dropped out on the other end and you’re done. And to me, that’s absolutely fine, but at the same time, it’s very basic. I think of that type of design as something to fall back upon if necessary – not something to have as your main, “go-to” layout. That said, the upcoming Kandinsky exhibition is a retrospective, so it will have this sort of chronological, snaking layout, with one clear path to take – because there’s a clear narrative, this kind of design makes the most logical sense.

In contrast, this very straightforward layout was completely absent in the [thematically organized] Uncommon Folk exhibition. Thus, I didn’t feel the need for that kind of “S”-path, with its clear implication that one must view the artworks in a certain order. The design for the Folk show was intentionally much more of a meander, giving visitors the opportunity to choose their own path, and in doing so, take a more individual journey of discovery. And one of the real benefits of this type of design is that when you give people multiple ways of navigating a space, you also give them the opportunity to go backwards, to look at something from a different angle, and perhaps accidentally discover another new work along the way.

One of the things that I try to keep in mind when I’m designing is that we live in an era where we’re surrounded by screens, and mainly encounter two-dimensional representations of our world. And when you go to an exhibit, even if you’re looking at paintings, you’re still having an encounter with a three-dimensional, physical object. Even if you’ve seen a photograph of a painting, you still haven’t experienced the work itself, in person: there’s scale, there’s surface texture, there’s the way that the light reflects, and your movement around the work is such a key part of this experience. So, this is always something that I try to consider, to design exhibits in a way that will allow people as many opportunities to have this unique, personal interaction with the artwork as possible.

Designs in progress. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

Tell a bit about yourself – how did you come to have this position?
I have always loved art. I studied it in school, and I knew that I wanted to make my living doing something which involved art. I did make art myself, and I still do, but I recognized that it was very difficult to make a living that way, especially because I wanted to have a family and a stable life as well. So, I knew that I was going to have to figure out some sort of a “9-to-5 job,” and this led me to exhibition design. My background is in working with commercial galleries in Chicago, and then a university gallery in Indianapolis, for Indiana University. I eventually wound up as the chief designer at the Indianapolis Museum of Art, and that led me here to the Milwaukee Art Museum. It’s a path that I participated in creating, but as is true of most people’s lives, it’s not one that I could have anticipated when I began.

Why do you believe that art and art museums are important in today’s society?
Two hundred years ago, people were surrounded by handmade things, and today it is exactly the opposite. If you lived in 1800 and you encountered a machine-made object, say a cast-iron pulley, it would seem like something remarkable which you would want to examine and admire. We live in exactly the opposite time today – now it’s handmade objects that are so highly appreciated and displayed.

When people make art, it is one of the few times when human beings – who are innately “makers” – are still making. Museums are such incredible resources in that they allow you to experience something in person – it’s really there in the room with you – and it’s the original, it’s not a recreation or representation. And more likely than not, the artwork itself was made by hand, by a person. Each work is a part of history, a unique object with so many stories associated with it. It’s so important to still have a way to connect, on the most elemental level, with this basic creative force that resides within us. I think that art museums allow us to do that.

Eugene Von Bruenchenhein (American, 1910–1983), Untitled [portrait of the artist's wife, Marie (standing)], ca. 1940s. Four gelatin silver prints. Milwaukee Art Museum, gift of Christopher Goldsmith, M1991.614-.617. Photo credit: Larry Sanders © Lewis B. Greenblatt

Read more “MAM Behind the Scenes” features here.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Joseph Beuys (German, 1921–1986), Felt Suit (Filzanzug), 1970. Felt. Milwaukee Art Museum, gift of Norman and Donna Hodgson, by exchange, M1989.74. Photo credit: P. Richard Eells. © Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn

Of course, this is not the case! So just what could an artist express through the choice of such a plain garment? It would be easy enough to dismiss the work as yet another absurdist contemporary piece attempting to challenge the conception of “art” itself – Duchamp had already claimed the urinal, so Beuys had to turn to menswear instead. While there certainly is an element of defiance and anti-traditionalism within Beuys’ work, to stop at a surface-level analysis without any consideration for the personal history of its creator does the work a great disservice. While at first we might see nothing special in plain grey felt, in fact, this material, and the garment out of which it was made, held incredible significance to Beuys himself.

Joseph Beuys was born in Germany in 1921. At the beginning of World War II, in 1941, he enlisted with the Luftwaffe, the airborne division of the German army. It was during his years of service that he experienced an event which would serve as a major creative influence for him in decades to come. Beuys’ plane was damaged by enemy fire near the Crimean front, and crashed in a neutral, remote area. In his own account, he was saved from near-certain death by a group of nomadic tribesmen, who found his unconscious body and spent subsequent weeks nursing him back to health, wrapping his badly burned torso in animal fat and felt bandages. In Beuys’ own words:

“Had it not been for the Tartars I would not be alive today. They were the nomads of the Crimea, in what was then no man’s land between the Russian and German fronts, and favored neither side. …It was they who discovered me in the snow after the crash, when the German search parties had given up. I was still unconscious then and only came round completely after twelve days or so, and by then I was back in a German field hospital. So the memories I have of that time are images that penetrated my consciousness… I remember voices saying ‘Voda’ [Water], then the felt of their tents, and the dense pungent smell of cheese, fat and milk. They covered my body in fat to help it regenerate warmth, and wrapped it in felt as an insulator to keep warmth in.” (Tisdall, Joseph Beuys, 1979, pp. 16-17)

There were no other eyewitnesses to the crash, and some have questioned the authenticity of Beuys’ account. Yet, veracity aside, the symbolism of salvation by such simple, elemental materials – fat and felt – became a crucial part of Beuys’ “origin myth” as an artist, and he continually returned to draw upon such charged substances throughout his career.

In some ways, Felt Suit can be seen as a self-portrait: It is tailored to Beuys’ own proportions, and clearly references an important event within his personal history. For Beuys himself to wear this suit would be a highly meaningful and emotionally-charged experience, since it would parallel the last time that his body was wrapped in felt, during the plane crash which had the potential to end his life, and yet instead dramatically transformed it. Even without the physical body of Beuys inhabiting the suit, his presence is still felt as the piece hangs empty in the wall, creating a silhouette of his form in the material which helped to maintain its existence.

Yet Felt Suit is not merely self-referential. The material of felt holds a strong elemental symbolism which can be experienced by all. When creating his felt artworks, Beuys stated that he specifically chose the material of felt because it created “an element of warmth.” Viewing the simple grey material of the suit evokes strong, tactile memories: the rough feel of a grandfather’s overcoat rubbing the soft cheek of a child during a winter walk, the excitement of a young woman setting out to a party in a new cloche hat, the comfort of reading beneath a blanket during a week of illness.

The felt of Beuys’ piece reminds us of our own creation stories, of the sense of inner warmth that comes from the recollection of powerful memories. In his work, Beuys reminds us to maintain and honor our memories, both the good and the bad. They have formed us into the people we are today, and in times of hardship, they can keep us warm – like a thick felt suit.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

George Ribacek, Lead Officer. Photo by the author

Can you give a brief description of your job, in thirty seconds or less?
Our team is here to secure the people, the art, and the building – which can mean something slightly different each day. There are always different challenges to address. And, a large part of our job is also customer service: helping people to find the restroom, or locate a favorite work of art. We’re there to help the visitors.

What would be a “typical day” in the life of a security officer?
What I do first is get everyone organized, make sure that everyone is on the same page. All of my staff have to know all of the events that are going on in the museum that day – tours, meetings, events – basically, setting up the day for success, right from the beginning. We’re busy from the moment the museum opens: usually we’ll have several school groups come through immediately. The pace generally slows down a bit during the middle of the day, and then it can pick up again in the evening, if there are events that we have to staff.

What is your favorite part of your job?
Working with the people here, absolutely. Not just the people within the security team, but visitors throughout the building. A lot of great people come here every day, and that’s really what makes this job fun. There’s definitely a larger part of the security officer’s role that is devoted to consumer interaction than most people realize – and I’m always trying to encourage more! We can sometimes be the first or only people that visitors see, and we’re here to assist them with whatever they need. Whether it’s a specific artwork they’re looking for, or a question about an artist, we should know the answer. We’re really involved with the whole visitor experience.

What else are you working on right now?
We just recently kicked off a fairly extensive training program for our officers, which I’m happy to say that I was a part of developing. It’s very thorough, and it really helps to give everyone something to look forward to each day. They can see themselves progress and learn – and they become more skilled and efficient, as well. We try to take challenges and turn them into opportunities.

Is there something unusual or unique about your position that most people may not know?
Out team is more interested in the art than people might realize. Whether they had experience with art before they came to work at the museum, or even just by being here in the galleries every single day, we really absorb that knowledge. We want to change the perception–our staff truly does have a vast knowledge of art and of the MAM collection in particular. And, if we don’t know the answer, we’re always able to find out! We really are a resource that is available to each and every visitor.

Tell a bit about yourself – how did you come to have this position?
I initially went to school for art, and then shortly after that, I started to work in the field of retail loss prevention. So, when this opportunity arose, it really was the perfect middle ground, given my interest in art and my background in security and loss prevention. It just made sense! So, I started working here about two years ago.

Why do you believe that art and art museums are important in today’s society?
It’s all about the importance of culture. It’s about shared ideas and emotions – something that the artist was feeling at a certain moment, that they decided they wanted other people to know. And the best part about it, to me, is that there really are no right or wrong answers. You agree with it or you disagree with it, you love it or you hate it – either way, the artwork is there for you to experience.

Is there anything that you would like to tell future visitors to the Milwaukee Art Museum?
There are a lot of great treasures here within the museum, which often go unnoticed. The collection is much more expansive than it appears from the outside. Many people don’t realize that they really can spend an entire day here, looking at new things and making new discoveries. I want to shift the perception away from “oh, I love the Milwaukee Art Museum, but I’ve already been” – because with our extensive collection and our constantly changing special exhibits, there’s always something new to see. Every time you come to visit, it’s a unique experience.

What is your favorite work in the Museum’s collection?
I really like the Impressionism gallery. If I had to choose just one work, I’d say it would be The Woodgatherer by Jules Bastien-Lepage. I also really like the German Expressionists, especially Gabrielle Münter. I really couldn’t pick just one piece, though – it always changes. Depending on how I feel each day, certain pieces will hit me more strongly than others. I’ve walked through these halls so many times, but the artwork still moves me in new ways. And it’s always a different experience, since the pieces are moved around throughout the Museum. The physical location of an artwork can have such an impact. If the lighting is different, if there are new works surrounding it, even if it just has a new position on the wall, it can really influence the way that a piece is perceived – even if it’s one that I’m already very familiar with. Each day, I rediscover the museum in a slightly different way.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Possibly Johann Gregorius Horoldt (German, 1696-1775), Tankard, ca. 1725. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, gilding, and brass. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1962.1035. Photo: John R. Glembin

Introduced to Europe from China in the fourteenth century, porcelain was the most elegant and fascinating of materials. It was pristine, white yet translucent, and although it was thin and light-weight, it was also amazingly strong and durable. In other words, it was everything that tin-glazed earthenware and stoneware was not.

As you might expect, porcelain imported to Europe were very expensive. To reflect its cost, and because it came in vessel shapes that were not used in the West, nobles would buy Chinese porcelain and then mount them in elaborate fittings made of precious metal.

Porcelain was such a sought after material that it was called “White Gold.” The demand was so great that wealthy European collectors started a search to find the secret to making it.

It wasn’t easy. True, hard-paste porcelain requires the inclusion of a special clay called kaolin. But the craftsmen attempting to make it did not know this, so their process was trial and error, using different types of clay in various proportions and fired at a number of temperatures.

To further confuse the issue, there is another type of porcelain, which is called artificial or soft-paste porcelain. Soft-paste porcelains mimics real porcelain by using white clay mixed with ground glass to make it more transparent–it does not have kaolin.

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Possibly Johann Gregorius Horoldt (German, 1696-1775), Tankard, ca. 1725. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, gilding, and brass. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1962.1035. Photo: John R. Glembin

The first soft-paste was developed in Florence, Italy, under the patronage of the Medici. Some of these ceramics were made between 1575 and 1587, but after this point the technique was abandoned. Production of soft-paste porcelain began again around 1700 in France.

In England, a variation of soft-paste porcelain is bone china, which was developed by Spode in 1799 when bone ash was added to the ceramic, making it more durable and attractive.

But our focus for this post is German drinking vessels, and it is to Germany that we return, and to one of the most important discoveries in European decorative arts history: how to make hard-paste porcelain.

Kaolin, the special clay needed to make hard-paste porcelain, was finally discovered in Saxony in the late seventeenth century. Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, was obsessed with porcelain and purchased large amounts of Chinese and Japanese examples for his palaces in Dresden. He even planned to have one castle, the Japanese Palace, dedicated to showing off his porcelain collections.

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Possibly Johann Gregorius Horoldt (German, 1696-1775), Tankard, ca. 1725. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, gilding, and brass. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1962.1035. Photo: Catherine Sawinski

But he, like so many rulers in Europe, wanted to be able to make porcelain, not just buy it. When Augustus took over the rule of Saxony in 1694, he promptly put a number of craftsmen to work on the problem. In 1709, J.F. Böttger, who originally was brought to the court as an alchemist (because gold gold was just as desirable as white gold), discovered the mixture required to make porcelain. In 1710, Augustus established the royal factory in Meissen. By 1713, the workers at Meissen were producing porcelain for his collection.

Augustus tried to keep the process a secret, because it both raised his prestige among the rulers of Europe, and meant that he could sell works to other nobles and make some money from it. As a result, Meissen held a near monopoly on porcelain production in Europe for almost 40 years, although workers took the secrets to Vienna to found a factory in 1719. Then, in 1747, workers defected from Vienna and spread the knowledge throughout Germany.

The basics of porcelain production are similar to those used with other ceramics: you can either mold a solid clay or slipcast a liquid clay. Then the object is fired at a low temperature to dry it out.

Once porcelain could be made, it was necessary to figure out how to decorate it. The artist Johann Gregorius Höroldt came to Meissen from the rival Vienna factory and developed a process for enameling porcelain in the early 1720’s. The ware can be decorated under the glaze (usually with cobalt blue) or painted with bright enamel colors over the first glaze, with a second firing to fix the enamel.

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Possibly Johann Gregorius Horoldt (German, 1696-1775), Tankard, ca. 1725. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, gilding, and brass. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1962.1035. Photo: Catherine Sawinski

Porcelain can also be fired at high temperature without a glaze, which is called biscuit porcelain, or bisque. It was more expensive because imperfections could not be hidden under the decorative glaze.

In the earliest years of production, only the best porcelain for the royal family was decorated by the Meissen factory itself. Everything else, called a blank, was sold to hausmalers who decorated in their homes, just as was the case with tin-glazed earthenware.

Two types of porcelain wares were made by the royal factory. Sculptural figurines in porcelain were used to replace temporary sugar sculptures made for banquet table decorations (using a luxury like sugar for pure decoration was the ultimate in decadence). Tableware for serving and eating were also made in porcelain.

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Possibly Johann Gregorius Horoldt (German, 1696-1775), Tankard, ca. 1725. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, gilding, and brass. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1962.1035. Photo: John R. Glembin

We are lucky enough to have two early Meissen tankards in the collection. They exemplify two different trends in early eighteenth century porcelain decoration.

The first tankard (above images) has a finely-painted chinoiserie scene, which means that it takes its inspiration from Chinese art. A large group of people in Chinese dress and exotic animals take part in what looks like a formal ceremony of some sort, with musicians and a procession. The animals include monkeys and dogs that look suspiciously like dachshunds in sweaters. In the background is a harbor scene with buildings in the distance.

The main scene is contained in a cartouche that is then surrounded by elaborate tendrels and flowers in gold. On either side of the main image are two smaller figures: on one side, a man smokes an opium pipe while a woman pours tea, and on the other a man interacts with exotic birds.

We know that in 1728, a number of tankards decorated like this were painted at Meissen by Johann Gregor Höroldt, with luster designs in the manner of Johann Freidrich Böttger. They were made for Augustus the Strong to send to the Russian imperial family in exchange for animals for his live menagerie. Although there is no way to know which tankards were included in that gift, it’s clear that the design was popular.

Other examples of tankards decorated in the style are in the collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, and the V&A in London. Some of Horoldt’s original drawings still exist.

On either sides of the handle are scattered motifs from nature: bugs and shells. These were very likely taken from Joris Hoefnagel’s Archetypa Studiaque Patris Georgii Hoefnagelii, 1592, which was republished in the early eighteenth century. Meissen works of this date were known to have used elements from these prints, which were a treasure-trove of designs.

Our second Meissen tankard takes its theme from the classical past. The god of wine, Bacchus, sits upon a barrel wearing only grape vines and lifts a glass of wine in salute to the viewer. For a vessel used to drink an alcoholic beverage, this is very appropriate.

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Tankard, 1725–35. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, and silver. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift and Bequest of René von Schleinitz and the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1995.1. Photo: John R. Glembin

The other two scenes on this tankard, however, show the darker side of the bucholic rendering of the cheery god on the front.

On one side, two men in eighteenth century dress fight violently. One beats the other with a stick, until his face is bloody. Two glasses, from the same set that Bacchus uses on the front, spill wine on the ground. The connection is clear: drinking can lead to violence.

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Tankard, 1725–35. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, and silver. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift and Bequest of René von Schleinitz and the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1995.1. Photo: John R. Glembin

The other scene shows the same two men, one standing up holding a wine jug and holding out a full glass, while the other lies on the ground, vomiting. Again, a graphic representation of what too much alcohol will do!

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Tankard, 1725–35. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, and silver. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift and Bequest of René von Schleinitz and the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1995.1. Photo: John R. Glembin

Meissen Porcelain Manufactory (Dresden, Germany, established 1710), Tankard, 1725–35. Glazed porcelain, polychrome overglaze decoration, and silver. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift and Bequest of René von Schleinitz and the René von Schleinitz Foundation, M1995.1. Photo: John R. Glembin

As a testament to its quality, Meissen still produces porcelain today. Its reputation means that the distinctive mark of crossed swords in blue glaze has been copied by other manufacturers. First used in 1720, it is one of the oldest trademarks in existence.

Now that we’ve seen how trade and technology led to the production of porcelain at Meissen, next month we’ll take a leap ahead to the nineteenth century to begin a look at our rich holdings in Mettlach steins and what they mean to Germany. Stay tuned!

Catherine Sawinski is the Assistant Curator of Earlier European Art. When not handling the day-to-day running of the European art department and the Museum’s Fine Arts Society, she researches the collection of Ancient and European artwork before 1900.

Tanya Paul, Isabel and Alfred Bader Curator of European Art

Can you give a brief description of your job, in thirty seconds or less?
As a curator, I do many different things. I work on everything from research and building the permanent collection, to working on exhibitions, to the display of the permanent collection – and that’s one of the big projects we’re working on now, the renovation and re-installation of the collection.

What would be a “typical day” in the life of a curator?
It really varies, and to be honest, the variety is half of the fun. There’s actually a lot of email and such – I can’t spend all of my time researching paintings, though of course I wish that I could! Usually, I spend the morning catching up on correspondence, and then there will be any number of meetings, related to upcoming exhibitions or to the reinstallation. Sometimes I’ll give a gallery talk. And then, if I’m lucky, I’ll have time to work on my own upcoming projects. But, as I said, every day is different, which is actually kind of nice.

What is your favorite part of your job?
I love creating exhibitions. I think it’s just tremendous fun. I love the learning process that’s built into it – you’re always uncovering new things, developing your thesis. And I also love the process of making acquisitions, of building the collection. Again, this is a process of discovery, of finding a new object – something new and beautiful, or interesting or challenging. It’s so fun to be able to bring a piece back, to share it with everyone and to see how it plays with the rest of the collection. Finally, the reinstallation process is quite fun. Working on that kind of comprehensive, complete re-envisioning of how the collection should be represented is just incredible.

One experience in my work that has been perhaps the most transformative for me was an exhibition that I created in 2012 at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, which later went on to be shown at the National Gallery in DC. The idea for the exhibition was born out of my doctoral dissertation on the Dutch still life painter Willem van Aelst. I had the unique opportunity to choose an artist that I’d worked on for eight years and knew very intimately, and then to pare his entire body of 127 paintings down to the thirty that we ended up showing–presenting an artist who was fairly unknown to the broader world. And then it was great to see how well-received the exhibition was, because it had seemed like this wonderful secret that I’d been working on for so long, and then suddenly I was able to share it with the world.

What is one challenge that you have encountered in your work?
One of the hardest aspects is time management. I have a lot of different tasks that I have to focus on as the day goes by. It can be hard to both attend to the short-term needs, which certainly exist and are very important, and yet also make time for the larger long-term projects as well. Finding that balance is definitely my biggest challenge.

Is there something unusual or unique about your position that most people may not know?
When I talk with people about what I do, they’re often surprised that there’s one person who is in charge of so many varied tasks. I think my role in building the collection is probably one of the most surprising aspects for people. People often don’t realize the degree to which we curators think about and actively work to expand the museum’s collection. An art museum’s collection can seem very monumental, and thus unchanging, but in reality it is constantly in flux. There’s always a long-term plan, and we’re constantly looking for new works, either to fill in gaps or establish new relationships.

Tell a bit about yourself – how did you come to have this position?
There’s really no one single way to become a curator. And, of course, it varies depending on what type of curator you want to be. To be a curator in charge of European Old Master paintings and sculpture in today’s market, you need to have your PhD. As for my path, I graduated from college with a major in English and an Art History minor. At that point, I realized – as most undergraduates do – that I actually needed to find a job. Museum work was really what I was interested in, and so I started doing some internships to gain experience. During that time, I started applying to graduate school as well. I got my Master’s degree with concentrations in 17th-century Dutch and 18th-century French art, and then started coursework towards a PhD, still doing museum internships on the side whenever I could. I can’t stress it enough – if you want to work in a museum, practical experience really is key. After I earned my PhD, I did a fellowship at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, where I had previously interned, working on the Van Aelst exhibition that I mentioned earlier. My first job was as the Curator of European Art at the Philbrook Museum of Art in Tulsa, Oklahoma. And then, a year ago, [Milwaukee Art Museum Chief Curator] Brady Roberts called me about an open position here, encouraging me to apply – and I did, and the rest is history.

Why do you believe that art and art museums are important in today’s society?
What museums offer, more than anything, is authenticity. So much of this world today is digital – you’re interacting with people so much more via the Internet. It’s very fleeting and very quick. Yet what museums can offer is something entirely different: a slow, quiet, meditative experience, focused on looking and observing, and on taking the time to engage and explore. Museums are a wonderful opportunity to learn, and to have that kind of quiet pleasure that is increasingly hard to come by in today’s world. It’s important that we still have the opportunity to come to a museum, stand in front of a painting that was painted 500 years ago, and come to understand what the artist was thinking and feeling. I think there can be times when museums try too hard to be a part of that fast-paced, digital world – and while we certainly engage with the advances of technology to some degree, we have a truly wonderful gift: We are the caretakers of incredible objects. And we need to embrace that, to celebrate it, and to share the pleasure in this celebration with everyone who comes through our doors.

Is there anything that you would like to tell future visitors to the Milwaukee Art Museum?
I would encourage them to slow down and look. I see a lot of people going through museums with their phones or cameras -I have no problem with photographs, since people want to document their experience. But I would encourage people to take a minute and engage with the artwork. Shut off all of the hundreds of other thoughts in your brain, and just look. Just enjoy the moment. It’s a single act, and a simple one, but I guarantee that if you spend five uninterrupted minutes taking in a work of art, you’re going to see things that you never expected. It’s a wonderful, eye-opening experience, and really showcases the beauty – and power – of these objects.

What is your favorite work in the Museum’s collection?
Such a hard question! And quite honestly, it varies from day to day. But I would have to say that Francisco de Zurbarán’s St. Francis of Assisi in his Tomb, Philippe de Champaigne’s Moses Presenting the Tablets of the Law, and Jean-Honoré Fragonard’s Shepherdess are all real masterpieces. And I don’t use that term lightly – these works really are extraordinary. Whenever I am showing people through the collection, whether they’re visitors or curators from other museums, I always bring them by those works, and there’s always a moment of pure awe. I guess in many ways that’s the best part of being a curator: I don’t have to pick a favorite. I have the opportunity to work with all of these incredible, beautiful artworks every day, and I am even luckier in that I can share this sense of wonder with all who enter.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Jim Campbell (American, b. 1956), Taxi Ride to Sarah’s Studio, 2010. LEDs, wire, custom electronics. Milwaukee Art Museum, purchase, with funds from the Contemporary Art Society, M2011.25. Photo credit: John R. Glembin. © Jim Campbell

Campbell’s path to the art world was certainly unconventional. Early in life, he seemed poised to follow a successful career path as an electrical engineer, graduating from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. But it was during these years of intensive study that a second passion began to emerge. For Campbell, MIT was “the most neurotic place I have ever been, and so I started doing photography and filmmaking to balance the environment and situation that I was in. I made art to stay sane” (interview with Art Practical, 2011). After graduation, he continued to delve ever deeper into art, experimenting with the use of LED lights as a medium. What had begun as a simple stress-relief activity soon turned into a lifelong vocation.

Campbell’s non-traditional background is reflected in his artwork. Using strands of LEDs, Campbell creates displays of flickering light which, if viewed from the correct angle, project scenes from video footage. His piece on display here at the Museum consists of a series of strands hung in a gradient such that the distance between the strands increases from left to right. Their intermittent illumination, reflected on the bare wall behind, is timed to create the perception of a simple video: the view from a cab window during a ride through a city. On the left side of the work, the closely-clustered strands of lights create a relatively clear image, such that a casual observer is likely to recognize the scenes being shown. However, as the strands are positioned farther and farther apart, the light becomes more diffuse, so that by the time one reaches the right side of the work, the resulting image has become blurry and unclear.

In a way, this distortion actually mirrors the sensation of riding in a car, where objects approaching in the road ahead are clearly visible for a few moments, but then soon shift into the observer’s hazy peripheral vision as they ride by. Yet the shift from clear to out-of-focus has a symbolic significance as well. Campbell described his inspiration for this piece in an interview with Art Practical, citing the influence of the improvements in television technology, his career as an engineer, and his subsequent disillusionment. As he explained,

In the change from standard definition to high definition, I didn’t feel as if I was given anything more that would change my experiences. I started to think about what I might be able to communicate in a low-resolution image. Could there be anything poetic, or is there something that’s felt if I created low-resolution images? And the most interesting thing after all these years really does have to do with the movement aspect of the image. That’s all that’s left; there is no detail in the imagery. You really can’t tell what you are looking at, except in a very primal way… The low resolution leaves the work open to this more primitive, motion-based perception. I think the more abstract it is, and the more primal that it is in terms of the way it’s perceived, then the more true it is. (Interview with Art Practical, 2011)

Indeed, the experience of Campbell’s work is ultimately one of almost instinctive calmness. At first, the eye is drawn to the left side of the work, as the mind works furiously to decode the pattern of lights into a comprehensible moving image. Yet after spending a bit of time with the work, really taking it in, one’s eye is inevitably drawn to the right. When viewing this side, with its diffuse, ever-shifting patches of light and dark, interpretation seems futile; the brain slows its pace, simply taking in the changing patterns. While the rush of the images on the left creates a subtle feeling of anxiety and unease, it is easy to spend long stretches of time peacefully mesmerized by the blur on the far right.

In today’s world of increasing technology, where companies seem to be constantly competing to create products with the largest memory, the fastest connection, and the highest resolution in an endless struggle to accrue ever more bits and bytes and pixels, Campbell’s work is an important reminder of the value of less. While certainly exciting, the rush of high-resolution images that surrounds us more and more each day can be overwhelming and exhausting. In Taxi Ride to Sarah’s Studio, Campbell gives us a path away from this sensory overload, reminding us that simple pleasure can be found in even the most basic of images.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Erich Boehle, Comptroller. Photo by the author

Can you give a brief description of your job, in thirty seconds or less?
My job is to maintain the financial assets of the Milwaukee Art Museum in a secure fashion. My primary role is to ensure that there are proper controls in place, so that the museum’s assets stay safe. “Proper controls” consist of management oversight and reviews of all of the documentation that we process – ticket receipts, store sales, café sales, and so on. We monitor all of their activity to make sure that they are generating revenue and to ensure that they are in compliance with all of the necessary regulations. So, we really control the financial assets of the museum.

Of course, I am responsible for the entire accounting staff, as well. As a team, we do everything from basic financial reports all the way up to final audits for the Board of Trustees. It’s a very all-inclusive job. We ensure that everything that transpires within the museum is acting according to the rules and laws of the United States, in terms of accounting. We then help to interpret those regulations to the supervisors and directors. It’s actually quite an interesting job, because in an organization like this, there is always so much activity. There are so many departments, covering a wide range of roles and responsibilities within the museum, and we track all of the financial activity of each of them.

What would be a “typical day” in the life of a comptroller?
My staff and I count all of the museum’s receipts and compare them to our databases, making sure that all of the numbers balance and everything is accounted for. Then, we process the payroll, making sure that all employees have turned in their timesheets and that their wages are calculated properly. I always review everything that the staff files, in terms of financial data – that way, everything within our accounting system has been thoroughly checked over before it was entered.

What is your favorite part of your job?
The interaction with administrators from all areas within the museum. I usually meet on a monthly basis with the supervisors, managers, and directors, to go over the inner financial workings of the museum at every level of detail. It’s our responsibility to go deep within the economic system of the museum and know exactly what is happening. We also produce specialized reports for the Director and Board of Trustees. Finally, as a nonprofit organization, the Milwaukee Art Museum doesn’t pay taxes, so in order to make sure that we are complying with all U.S. laws and regulations, we have to undergo audits. So, we need to make sure that there are no issues with our finances, when we prepare paperwork for these yearly examinations.

So, as you can see, there are a lot of different, varied responsibilities that make up my position, dealing directly with almost every aspect of the museum. I guess you could say that I truly always have my “finger on the pulse” in terms of knowing exactly what’s going on at the MAM, and that is what makes my job so interesting. We’re really tied in to so many different aspects of the inner workings of the museum. It’s a lot of fun to see how everything comes together – and it’s definitely a huge team effort!

What is one challenge that you have encountered in your work?
In past organizations that I have worked with, it has been a real challenge to constantly monitor the actions of so many different departments. But to be honest, this hasn’t been a problem at the Milwaukee Art Museum. Here, everybody is very willing to listen, and they really understand the importance of doing things the correct way. It’s quite refreshing – there are a lot of very intelligent people working here, who understand that not only do we need to make sure that our mission statement is being accomplished, by showing artwork to the public, but that the financial end of the organization also needs to be sound so that we can continue to operate.

Is there something unusual or unique about your position that most people may not know?
Definitely the compliance aspect. I don’t think people understand how imperative it is that the museum follows all of the financial laws and regulations entirely, down to every last detail. There are many different rules and laws, on every level of jurisdiction from local to national. So, I have to be knowledgeable and up-to-date with all of them, because there can be changes. Making sure that we follow the regulations exactly is important because it helps keep the museum safe, and allows it to remain in operation and continue to fulfill its mission of sharing art with the public.

Tell a bit about yourself – how did you come to have this position?
I actually began my career working in radio. I graduated from college with a degree in radio and TV/film communications, and then worked in the radio field for seven years. Unfortunately, the huge radio conglomerates kept buying out the smaller stations that I worked for – I think I ended up working for three different radio companies within those seven years. In the end, I just got tired of constantly having to search for a new radio job, so I opened up the newspaper one morning and took a look at all of the available accounting jobs – and I decided to go back to school and get an accounting degree! I started my accounting career working at a real estate firm, and then I was with the nonprofit AIDS Resource Center of Wisconsin, and now I’m here at the Milwaukee Art Museum.

My more unusual background in the arts and communications definitely had an impact on my decision to come and work for MAM. Accountants as a whole tend to be a bit more on the quiet side – communicative skills aren’t really taught within the profession itself, so accountants often aren’t very good at explaining basic financial functions in such a way that the other members of the organization can readily understand. So, I think my communications skills and previous experience help me connect with people on a personal level, and explain the complex numbers that make up the financial activity of the organization in a way that is accessible to everyone. The combination of these two degrees, communications and accounting, can seem a bit unconventional – but it really does work out very well in terms of preparing someone for a position as the comptroller of a large organization, as the two skill sets complement each other very nicely.

Why do you believe that art and art museums are important in today’s society?
Art is important in society because it brings beauty into everybody’s lives. And art should not be limited to the select few individuals who can afford such things – it should be open to the public and accessible to everyone. This is a large part of the fundamental mission of the museum, given its status as a nonprofit, which it is my job to help maintain.

What is your favorite work in the Museum’s collection?
Definitely the Cock of the Liberation – I’m a huge Picasso fan.

Read more “MAM Behind the Scenes” features here.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Brigid Globensky, Senior Director of Education and Programs. Photo by Chelsea Emelie Kelly

Can you give a brief description of your job, in thirty seconds or less?
I have a very far-reaching job. The great thing about my work is that in the course of one day, I can be working with kindergartners, adults, and everyone in-between. I can go from the sublime to the ridiculous in a heartbeat! I can be both serious and playful about art within a very short time, which I love. The range of my job responsibilities encompasses everything from strategic planning to teaching children. And, despite my many administrative tasks, I always try to maintain some creative projects, such as developing the education gallery or spending some time teaching tour groups, to make sure that I remain engaged and energized.

What would be a “typical day” in the life of the Director of Education?
Well, let’s see… what have I done so far today? I reviewed a family guide in the morning, and I met with our Information Technology department and some of our collaborators from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, to talk about an app that we’re working on developing – which was very interesting, and takes me into technological realms about which I know little but am fascinated to learn! I will often touch base with Dan Keegan, our Director, to keep him up-to-date on the projects that we’re working on. Today, I actually just sent him this great feedback survey that we received from a family who had recently visited the museum, and the child wrote, “This was the best day ever. The very best day of my whole life!” – which was really sweet. But then there are logistical details to work on too, like trying to find storage options in preparation for the reinstallation, with all of the moving of materials which that will entail. And then, of course, there’s always work to be done on the budget. But overall, it’s a nice mix of work and fun!

What is your favorite part of your job?
The aspects that I really enjoy are those things that just make me lose track of time, when I’m truly focused and engaged. I have to say, the most fun I have is when I’m working with very talented people. We have a great staff here, and I’m lucky to get to work with many intelligent, fascinating people every day. Also, I’m in charge of producing the museum’s audio guides, and I really enjoy creating those, working with the curators. And finally, I love planning exhibits for the education galleries – it’s always a lot of fun.

What is one challenge that you have encountered in your work?
I hate cutting budgets. We have all of these awesome ideas, but at times they are just not the resources for them. I’ve learned that good ideas have staying power, so when resources are available we are ready with ideas.

Is there something unusual or unique about your position that most people may not know?
People may be surprised to realize that I spend so much time with a variety of age groups. That’s something that is more unusual about my position, and an aspect that I really enjoy. I can be teaching kindergartners one minute, and doing strategic planning with senior managers the next. The age range within my typical day’s worth of interactions is pretty large. Yet at the same time, I would like to think that my approach to the study of art remains the same no matter which ages I’m dealing with. I believe art is a catalyst for our thinking about ourselves and the world, so my focus is human development. Whether I’m mentoring staff or working with school groups, for me the fundamental element is always about how we learn and grow as people. That is the value that motivates the work that I do with art, trying to create different opportunities for that growth to happen, for people of all ages.

One of the projects that really taps into this drive is the Museum’s partnership with Kohl’s and the Education Center that we have created as a result. This relationship began with a grant that we received from Kohl’s in 2008, and this is now the sixth year that our grant has been renewed. The Kohl’s Education Center that we have been able to create with this funding has really changed the face of the Museum. Before the Kohl’s funding, we would typically have around twelve thousand children come to visit the museum with their families each year. Now, after the opening of the Education Center, we’re up to thirty thousand kids, not even including school groups! This is a tremendous increase, and something that I am very proud of.

Tell a bit about yourself – how did you come to have this position?
Even as a young child, I always had a goal of working in a museum. I’ve always believed that every object has a story, and I have been fascinated by the process of discovering and sharing those stories with others. I entered the workforce doing a variety of different things – I initially worked as a low-income housing coordinator for eight years. But then, looking at where my skills and interests lay, I realized that my interest in human development, my organizational ability, and my passion for art all came together in the field of museum education. So, from then on I began to explore the idea of working in a museum. I found a museum position – and I absolutely loved it. So, I went back to school, and then one thing led to another, and I found my way to the Milwaukee Art Museum. I’ve been in this field now for almost thirty years, and it’s been absolutely so much fun.

Why do you believe that art and art museums are important in today’s society?
Art has always been a catalyst for me to think about my own life, and to reflect upon the world that I live in – and I firmly believe that I am not alone in this. I want art to be available to people so that they too can have these same powerful experiences. So, I often think of an art museum as being similar to a library, in that when you enter there are so many possibilities that exist for you. And the fact that it’s a public institution is so crucial to this availability. The resources that we have as a culture should be freely available, to all people – and especially to young children. The process of connecting with art is so important, especially early on in a person’s development, so that children are able to pursue and develop this passion throughout the rest of their lives.

The experience of art changes based upon age – young people often approach artworks very differently. Yet it also changes based on the individual, and the situation. The mood that I’m in, the people that I’m with – all of these are constant influences on my own experience. So, I love having the opportunity to see art through the lens of people of all ages, with perspectives from the profound to the silly, because one of the best parts about the field of art is that it is big enough for all of it. Art can be approached from all angles and still have purpose.

Is there anything that you would like to tell future visitors to the Milwaukee Art Museum?
Well, people often talk about how the most profound statements can come “from the mouths of babes,” and I’ve recently had an experience that really proves this. One of our youth programs is called The Art of Writing, where youth will come to the museum and write a personal narrative based upon a work of art which inspired them. At the end we ask them if they have any advice to give to next year’s students. And this one little first grader said, “I would tell them to just listen to the pictures.” I think that was the best advice for experiencing a museum.

What is your favorite work in the Museum’s collection?
The first one that comes to mind is our Cy Twombly. On one level, the work is about something which is real but looks abstract – it’s a painting that looks deceptively like a chalkboard. But this piece also speaks to me about great vulnerability and power. It’s something about the way that the little shape in the center is made. The canvas looks like a surface which has been constantly drawn upon and then erased, and what emerges at the end is this little image, shaky and uncertain but also with a very primal sense of power, surfacing amid the reworking. I just love the combination of these two disparate emotions. So, that painting in particular really speaks to me, on all levels – and perhaps in ways that Twombly never imagined.

Read more “MAM Behind the Scenes” features here.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Emma Fallone, Digital Learning Intern, Milwaukee Art Museum. Photo courtesy the author

As I grew older, I still tried to come to the museum as often as I could, but my visits become much more infrequent after I moved to the East Coast for college, pursuing an art history degree. Fortunately, I recently found myself with a free month in the early part of summer, and I knew without a doubt where I wanted to spend it: my hometown of Milwaukee. A chance contact with Manager of Digital Learning Chelsea Kelly opened up the possibility of an internship at MAM during this time, working with the Education Department to create new content for the Under the Wings Blog. I was absolutely thrilled: now I had the chance to spend time each week in a beautiful museum that I already knew and loved, learning about the inner workings of the organization and spending even more time exploring its excellent collection.

And explore I did – in even more ways than I anticipated. Tasked with writing several new blog posts each week, I often spent my mornings just as I had so many years ago: walking through the galleries and experiencing the art, and then returning (in this case, to my cubicle) to write about what moved me. Working in an art museum, I was fortunate to have a very easy solution to writer’s block: a simple five-minute stroll from my desk would take me into halls filled with powerful, evocative artworks. It certainly never took long for inspiration to strike!

Much of my time working with the blog was also devoted to creating a new series called “MAM Behind the Scenes.” The goal of this project was to showcase the many types of people who work behind the scenes to keep the museum running, from curators to comptrollers to security personnel. And, to be honest, I myself didn’t even know exactly what some of these positions entailed! So, it could not have been more perfect: not only did I get to sit down and chat with some very intelligent, interesting people about art, but I gained a thorough introduction to the wide range of positions that make up the field of museum work, as well.

As my internship comes to a close, and I begin to reflect upon my experience writing about the people and the art that make up the Milwaukee Art Museum, what I have come away with is an overarching sense of both diversity and unity. The museum is made up of an incredibly diverse array of staff, with a wide range of responsibilities, but each plays an integral role in how the Museum functions as a whole. The individuals themselves are each unique, with many different skill sets and a surprising number of hidden talents. However, they all share something in common: a passion for art, and a dedication to ensuring that this wonderful resource continues to be available to the public each and every day. Their passion ensures that the Milwaukee Art Museum is both a great place to work, and even more importantly, a truly world-class institution.

Emma Fallone is a summer digital learning intern at the Milwaukee Art Museum, focusing on blogging. Born and raised in Milwaukee, Emma is currently a junior at Yale University, majoring in History and Art History. In June 2014, she will be moving to Washington, DC to work at the Smithsonian Archives of American Art.

Evan and Kira introduce the program at the start of the event. Photo by Front Room Photography

As an upcoming art educator myself, I found I had to take into account different layers of teaching. I first only thought about the lesson I would teach to the teens–meaning I would show them what exactly we would be doing with the kids. But soon I realized the extra layer–that the teens would then be teaching the younger students. So essentially, I was teaching how to teach.

In order to get the high school students comfortable with the idea of teaching younger students about the Collection, I had them test out some activities I designed for them to use as a template of what they could do with their elementary school group.

I struggled coming up with these activities at first. In the past, when I’ve taught a lesson with the teens, I’ve always had some sort of big idea or end objective I want the students to achieve, then I struggle when students stray too far off from the objective. Something very important that I’ve been learning at the Museum is to be a flexible practitioner: to build your lessons around letting the students guide instruction. An objective is fine, but it is also important to be highly aware of the language I am choosing to use when instructing, as well as gauging my students’ interest in the lesson.

Teens learn about the Uncommon Folk exhibition to prepare for their elementary school tours. Photo by Chelsea Emelie Kelly

Because the elementary school students would only be at the Museum for an hour, we wanted to make the absolute most of it. I used the Museum’s Family Guide as a source of ideas. Thinking about how I could best show the teens how to work with students, I modeled the activities for them as if I was the teen and they were the elementary students. I think it was important for the teens to run through these activities with me before trying them out with their kids. It prepped them to better understand the activities and to form more relevant connections.

After my demonstration, I led a discussion with our students about what we should keep in mind when working with younger students. I was pleasantly surprised with what the teens shared: that it’s important to be able to “go with the flow” if something doesn’t work out as planned, to show that you are excited and passionate in order to engage the kids, to allow them to decide what they want to do (or choose the artwork to do the activity with), and to always be more prepared than you need to be. These are lessons that I am still reminding myself to follow!

Milwaukee Art Museum Satellite Program group, 2013-14

I have learned so much about education from my internship at the Milwaukee Art Museum. I’ve learned to be more confident in myself as a teacher: When I am uncertain about something, I try not to hesitate. I’ve learned to speak louder, and also to be more sensitive with my word choice. There are so many things to simultaneously juggle when you’re teaching – the content of what you’re working to get across, being an observant listener while thinking about what you’re going to say next, making sure everyone is engaged, making sure everyone understands, making sure you’re being heard (physically and figuratively)… It’s a lot! Practice really does make perfect when it comes to teaching. The more experience I gain, the more comfortable I am.

I witnessed the teens going through the exact same realizations as they worked with the younger students. And in our three short CLC visits, I also observed our students make great improvements at becoming more confident and taking control as young educators.

For them to share with others their love for the world of art (at such a young age themselves), and to hear them say to the elementary schoolers, “Well, art can be whatever you want it to be. What do you think?” made me even more aware of how important it is to continue to share art in today’s world, and how lucky I am to be a part of this integral process.

–Jessica Janzer, Teen Programs Intern

Ms. Sue Gudynski, Lincoln Elementary. Photo by Laci Coppins

The first week of June marked the 15th Annual Junior Kindergarten Art Show for Ms. Gudynski and her young scholars. Using works of art from the Milwaukee Art Museum and neighboring museums as inspiration, students learn about the artist, artwork, and art genres.

This year, in honor of the Milwaukee Art Museum’s retrospective on Wassily Kandinsky, Ms. G. (as she is affectionately called) prepared her students’ minds to explore abstract art! Starting with The Noisy Paint Box, a children’s book by Barb Rosenstock, students journeyed into an adventure of learning, which included creating their versions of Kandinsky’s masterpiece.

Art inspired by Kandinsky! Photo by Laci Coppins

Art inspired by Kandinsky! Photo by Laci Coppins

Art inspired by Kandinsky! Photo by Laci Coppins

Throughout the year each child has their hand in creating work in varying styles.

Artwork inspired by Alexander Calder. Photo by Laci Coppins

Ms. G. shows student art. Photo by Laci Coppins

Picasso inspired artwork by students. Photo by Laci Coppins

The year culminates with a class celebration and art show, in which students are able to share what they have learned, as well as showcase their skilled artists’ hand. When asked why she elects to teach this way, Ms. G replied, “It’s hands-on and hits every aspect of development.”

Be sure and see works that inspired these budding artists on your next trip to the Milwaukee Art Museum, including Kandinsky on view through Labor Day.

Laci Coppins is Manager of School and Teacher Programs. She develops and implements school programs and tours for area schools and educators. Further, she creates featured exhibition and permanent collection resources, professional development workshops, and teaches strategies based in visual literacy with works from the Museum for both teachers and docents.

Luis and Rosaly show their families the Museum. Photo by Front Room Photography

I have always had a sense that my students grow over their time at the Museum. This year, though, to really study that growth, we designed our longstanding Satellite High School Program as a year-long experience to explore exactly how weekly sessions at an art museum might change the thinking of our teen participants. To that end, our program outcome for students was that they would show an increased ability to reflect upon their own experiences and performance.

This means I’ve been thinking a lot about evaluation: How do we show there was a change? Years ago, I thought evaluation was more or less a prickly, black-and-white, necessary evil that forced me to use altogether too much math. But over the past two years, I’ve come around to believe evaluation is completely the opposite (though math is still important!). Evaluation is a grey area—much like teaching and interpretation—and we as educators need to use multiple methods in order to get a fuller picture of what’s going on with our students. And further, these methods can be tools to help our teaching, improving programs and our impact on students.

In the end, I found I needed to use reflective practice myself to understand how my students were changing, and to explore and experiment with a number of different methods for articulating their growth. In this post, I’ll share a few of the methods we used in the Satellite High School Program this year to explore how our teen interns changed through reflective practice.

Evan and Kira introduce the Satellite program at the start of the Final Project Screening Celebration. Photo by Front Room Photography

First… What is Satellite?
The Satellite High School Program is a year-long internship for sixteen teens ages 16 to 18 from diverse high schools all over the Milwaukee area. Once a week after school, they come together at the Museum and explore how art can be made relevant to our lives today. They participate in “object studies” (hour-long discussions on a single work of art), behind-the-scenes career talks with staff, and resume-writing workshops, and they also mentor elementary school students in tours of the permanent collection.

Teens create a final project that has a real-world impact on the Museum. They choose a work of art in the Museum Collection, research it, and form their own interpretation of the piece. In past years, students have created responses in visual art, writing, or performance. This year, the students used iPads to create videos on their work of art, explaining what the work means to them and how it changed their thinking or art practice. You’ll see a few of those videos later in this series of posts.

Liz answers one of the Q&A questions. Photo by Front Room Photography

We settled on one-on-one interviews, doing a “pre” interview on the first days of the program in October and a “post” interview on the final days of the program in May. Each student was privately asked the same set of questions in the pre- and post-interviews, meant to get at their ability to reflect on their experiences in the program. I scored each interview on a rubric that measured level of detail in their responses, and then we compared their pre-program score to their post-program score to see if they had improved.

At the end, every student did improve in their ability to reflect—their answers got significantly more detailed. As someone whose default is to be a more qualitative thinker, it was rewarding to use the rubric to see their interviews as data, in a quantitative, more tangible way.

But as helpful as this was, it’s still just one method of evaluation. Being able to explain in detail is certainly one aspect of successfully being able to reflect. But as I listened to their responses, and thought about what I had seen in the students over the course of the whole year, I realized there is much more to reflecting than just detail. Their responses used stronger vocabulary, they expressed sophisticated ideas, and they asked more and deeper questions. How could I articulate that kind of change?

Continued in Reflective Evaluation: How Can Museums Change Teens–and Vice Versa? Part 2, coming soon.

Chelsea Emelie Kelly is the Museum’s Manager of Digital Learning. In addition to working on educational technology initiatives like the Kohl’s Art Generation Lab or this very blog, she oversees and teaches teen programs. Say hello on Twitter @MAM_Chelsea.

The mural in progress. Photo by Front Room Photography

The teens worked both at the Museum and at Red Line Milwaukee to marry art history and interpretative discussion with studio practice and the vital artistic act of making. The pace of the program forced the students to quickly become comfortable not only with one another, but also with abstraction and the symbolic visual languages of Kandinsky. I can vouch that this is no easy feat: I’m entering the final semester of my undergraduate career, and I’m still grappling with abstraction in my own work. I was impressed with the teens’ ability to pull it all off in only twelve days, and that they created a product that they could truly be proud of.

Community Learning Center student hard at work on her abstract paper collage, inspired by “Kandinsky: A Retrospective.” Photo by Jessica Janzer

I’ve been an Education Intern here at the Museum for about three years now, mainly assisting with the Satellite High School Program. ArtXpress was a wonderful way for me to step out of my comfort zone and assist a different leading teacher and work with teens to create not only ideas, but actual, physical artwork.

I assisted program educator Tim Abel, along with Natalie Schmitting. Natalie is an artist-in-residence at Red Line and Tim is an experienced art educator/artist. It was invaluable to gain perspectives from both of them, as I am an aspiring studio artist as well as an emerging art educator myself. With each of our unique talents, we all led the program in unison. Each of us would step in where the other left off, generating an atmosphere that the teens grew comfortable within. We demonstrated working together through our teaching methods, and the students imitated this process quickly, fostering a creative breeding ground for art and ideas.

Anaeli, Xai, Diamante, and Clarence discuss ideas for the composition of their portion of the mural. Photo by Jessica Janzer

It was amazing to witness and be a part of the unique collaborative process that manifested in the students, myself, and the two other teachers/leaders of the program. Students who had never met each other before ArtXpress were playing games together on our lunch breaks, giving each other drawing and compositional design tips during work hours, and were comfortable enough to give constructive criticism when it was needed.

College intern Jessica considers linocut printmaking registration with ArtXpress intern Angel, while other teen interns work on their prints. Photo by Tim Abel

It was really a privilege to be an intern for ArtXpress this summer. If I had to describe ArtXpress in one word, it would be “collaboration!” (Exclamation point to emphasize the excited pace of the program!)

We welcome you to join us for the opening reception today, Saturday, August 23, 2014, from 2-4 PM, to see the teens’ mural in person on the MCTS bus!

–Jessica Janzer, Teen Programs Intern

Harry Bertoia (American, b. Italy, 1915–1978), Dandelion, 1970. Gold-plated bronze and beryllium. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of Mrs. Harry Lynde Bradley M1975.131. Photo credit: P. Richard Eells. © 2010 Estate of Harry Bertoia / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

Now that it’s finally starting to feel like summer, let’s talk about dandelions. Sure, they’re technically weeds, and you probably don’t want them taking over your lawn. But it’s fun to make wishes on the white puffy ones, even if it does scatter seeds and just increases the dandelion population exponentially.

This dandelion, however, won’t scatter seeds if you wish on it because it’s made of gold-plated bronze and beryllium. It was created by Italian-born American artist Harry Bertoia, who didn’t just make sculptures but also crafted monoprints, furniture and jewelry. His Sonambient Sculptures were designed to make music and he saw his furniture as just another type of sculpture because, as he put it, “space passes right through them.”

Harry Bertoia (American, b. Italy, 1915–1978), Tonal, ca. 1967. Cupro nickel and monel metal. Gift of Mrs. Harry Lynde Bradley M1975.133. Photo credit: John R. Glembin. © 2010 Estate of Harry Bertoia / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

Dandelion exemplifies his creativity with sculpture and metalwork. His arguably most famous work is the Bertoia chair, which you’ve probably seen, and maybe even sat in, before. They’re pretty popular, probably because of their aesthetic and comfort. And some models can even go outside.

Bertoia worked and entered competitions with Charles Eames, and aided in design of the well-known Eames chair, but claims he was never given credit, which caused him and his wife Brigitta to work instead with Florence Schust Knoll and her husband, Hans, in Pennsylvania. Initially, Bertoia was to design hospital furniture, but stated her “preferred to work with healthy bodies.” He crafted the Bertoia chairs in metal first, and also designed their means of mass production.

Not all of Bertoia’s chairs look alike. And the same is true of his sculpture with even more diversity of medium, style and even size. Besides Dandelion, the Milwaukee Art Museum has in its collection four sculptures by Bertoia: Tonal (at right), Flowering, Geometric Forms, and Untitled, as well as a “Diamond” Chair.

– Margaret Crocker, Curatorial Intern

Liz and Justine watch the final project videos. Photo by Front Room Photography

Exit Slips
At the end of each session, teens used a web app on their iPads called Infuse Learning to fill out a quick exit slip survey. Exit slips are an easy way to take the pulse of your students at the end of a session. For Satellite, they answered the questions “What is something you learned today?” and “What are you still wondering about?” Though different from our interview questions, these certainly also support reflective practice by thinking back on the day’s session.

As the year went on, I noticed that the teens’ responses were growing more sophisticated: they were longer, they used more art vocabulary, and they realized that they might not be able to answer questions definitively, if at all. At the suggestion of Marianna Adams, who specializes in museum research and evaluation, I tried running these responses through two readability tests to see if that would quantify the sophistication of these responses. One test produces the sample’s Fog Scale Level, which measures syllable count and sentence length (a score of 5 being readable, 20 being very difficult). The other was for the Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level, which approximates the average grade level necessary to read and understand the text.

Sample data answering the exit slip question, “What’s something you learned today?” (Click to enlarge)

For the first question (“What is something you learned today?”), students’ scores jumped considerably in Fog Scale and Reading Level. Since these tests measure syllable count, sentence length, and grade level, this corroborates with what I found in the core evaluation.

Sample data answering the exit slip question, “What are you still wondering about?” (Click to enlarge)

But I was surprised to see that when I tested responses to the second question (“What are you still wondering about?”), students’ scores actually dropped! Yet if you read their responses, there is a drastic change–for the better.

Brandon answers a question at the Q&A. Photo by Front Room Photography

The scores of these comments may have decreased, but I’d argue that their reflective quality increased—the teens ask big questions that might not have an answer; they ditch high-level vocabulary to more informally muse on philosophical questions of art, destruction, and race. Running these responses through the tests helped me see, again, that while tools can be helpful, they’re ultimately just one tool—we need more than one to paint a bigger picture.

Videos
To round out that image, I’ll share one final unexpected evaluation tool: the teens’ final project videos as well as a talkback session they conducted at their video premiere.

View of the celebration–watching teen videos! Photo by Front Room Photography

For their final project, each student chose one work of art in the Museum Collection and looked at it, researched it, and talked about it with others for seven months. (Given that most visitors spend under 10 seconds looking at art in museum galleries, this is a feat in and of itself!) They distilled a school year’s worth of thinking into brief, 2-4 minute videos that answered what the work meant to them, what it had meant to others, and how their own thinking had changed as a result of looking at the piece—all questions with, of course, that familiar reflective bent.

The teens also participated in a talk-back/Q&A at the celebration where we premiered these final projects. Guests—museum staff, teachers, family, and friends—asked the group questions about their experience. If you like, you can watch the teens’ videos, along with the Q&A, in the YouTube playlist below.

Continued in Reflective Evaluation: How Can Museums Change Teens–and Vice Versa? Part 3, coming next week. Adapted from an essay originally posted on ArtMuseumTeaching.com.

Chelsea Emelie Kelly is the Museum’s Manager of Digital Learning. In addition to working on educational technology initiatives like the Kohl’s Art Generation Lab or this very blog, she oversees and teaches teen programs. Say hello on Twitter @MAM_Chelsea.

Jules Bastien-Lepage (French, 1848–1884), Le Père Jacques (Woodgatherer), 1881. Oil on canvas. Miwlaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Mrs. E. P. Allis and her daughters in memory of Edward Phelps Allis L102. Photo credit: John R. Glembin.

One of the things that I enjoy about being a curator is that I am always learning something.  Here is one example.

In the middle of August, the Cornish American Heritage Society held their “Gathering of the Cornish Cousins” in Milwaukee.  The event offered talks and workshops on all things Cornish, and one of the organizers had asked me to do a presentation on the artists of the Newlyn School.

I knew a little about Cornwall from visits to the southwestern part of Wisconsin, plus I loved pasties, but I knew nothing about art in Cornwall.  A quick search told me that they were a group of artists that, in the 1880s, formed an art colony in a Cornish fishing village called Newlyn.  So, I said, sure, why not?

And now, after a year of reading about the Newlyn artists and looking closely at the artwork produced by them, I’m so glad that I did!

The late 19th century was a time of immense change in all parts of life, and artists such as those of the Newlyn School were not immune to this.  They, like everyone else, had to respond to the social and environmental changes brought on by the industrial revolution.  One of the key questions was, what did it mean to be modern?

Part of the answer, for the Newlyn artists, was influence by the French artist Jules Bastien-Lepage.  And Bastien-Lepage just happens to be an artist represented in the Layton Art Collection with his 1881 painting, Le Père Jacques (Woodgatherer).

Jules Bastien-Lepage (French, 1848–1884), Le Père Jacques (Woodgatherer), 1881. Oil on canvas. Miwlaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Mrs. E. P. Allis and her daughters in memory of Edward Phelps Allis L102. Photo credit: John R. Glembin.

A number of Bastien-Lepage’s paintings, after they were shown at the official Salon in Paris, were put on display in London; among them include Les Foins (Hay Gatherers), Joan of Arc, and Le Père Jacques (Woodgatherer).  They were very controversial.  Both French and English critics of the established art world were troubled that the extremely detailed backgrounds made with broken brushstrokes contrasted with the smoothly painted and finely modeled figures.  In particular, Les Foins was disturbing in the realistic—and not very beautiful—face of the girl, the awkward poses of both figures, and the overall feeling of fatigue in the scene.  It was not the idealized, uplifting view of life or the moralizing narratives that the mainstream were used to seeing.

Jules Bastien-Lepage (French, 1848–1884), Le Père Jacques (Woodgatherer) (detail), 1881. Oil on canvas. Miwlaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Mrs. E. P. Allis and her daughters in memory of Edward Phelps Allis L102. Photo credit: John R. Glembin.

Furthermore, Bastien-Lepage was dedicated to painting en plein air, which is a French term meaning “in the open air.”  Essentially, this meant that he painted out-of-doors, directly onto the final canvas.  Up until the 19th century, artists would make drawings and small oil sketches outside and then bring them back to the studio to make a finish painting.  In the quest to show nature in all its glory, artists, most notably those associated with the Barbizon School, began painting outside, on-site.

For young artists in England, the avant-garde French painter Jules Bastien-Lepage offered a new—and modern—vision.  They flocked to Paris to study in the studios of established artists, and then during the summer they traveled to the county to escape the hot city and find interesting subject matter, which they painted en plein air.

Here’s where it all comes together: Many of the artists that worked at Newlyn at some point between the 1880s and 1890s were among those who were influenced by Bastien-Lepage and studied on the continent.

The best example would be the Irishman Stanhope Forbes.  He began his schooling in London, and then after studying in France, he returned to England to find a good location to paint figures in a picturesque setting.  He spent his almost 70-year career in Newlyn, and early on became known as the father of the Newlyn School.

Forbes’s 1885 submission for the Royal Academy exhibition was his first major painting created in Newlyn, and it is considered to be his masterpiece.  Fish Sale on a Cornish Beach shows the influence of Bastien-Lepage and other European artists in his painting style, coloring, and use of ordinary people as models.  Forbes was also committed to painting en plein air, and the work was completely painted on site over many months.  Plein air painting was one of the first shared interests of the artists who worked at Newlyn.  They also explored how to show natural light indoors and focused on a rural subject matter that was distanced from the industrialization of England.

Although Fish Sale on a Cornish Beach was admired by English critics and the public, it was rejected for purchase for the National Collection at the Tate, because, according the contemporary periodical The Magazine of Art, the painting was “too positively the outcome of a foreign school.”  It was just too French for the English!

It’s so great to get a new perspective on favorites in the Milwaukee Art Museum Collection.  Maybe someday we’ll see Newlyn artists hanging side by side with paintings by Bastien-Lepage.

Catherine Sawinski is the Assistant Curator of Earlier European Art. When not handling the day-to-day running of the European art department and the Museum’s Fine Arts Society, she researches the collection of Ancient and European artwork before 1900.

The Satellite High School Program Teens, 2013-14. Photo by Front Room Photography

I’m not sure we can ever paint a full picture of student growth in intensive programs such as this one. I do think combining all of these tools can help, though—especially if the evaluative tools actively support the goal of the program. The interviews, exit slips, and activities were all intentionally structured to be reflective, related to the outcome itself. This relevancy was key, not only in genuinely evaluating the program’s success, but also in supporting the students’ abilities through the methods themselves. It’s also important that we educators make the program goal transparent to the students. The Satellite interns knew from the beginning that they were working on reflective ability—this helped prime them to think reflectively from the get-go.

Rosaly shows her family her chosen work of art. Photo by Front Room Photography

As far as impact beyond reflective capacity, I also want to share a few quotes from the teens themselves about their time in this program:

From the other evaluation tools, we saw that the students developed their ability to reflect on themselves and their own performance. But as seen in the comments above, they were also able to develop skills reflecting on the world beyond them—the world of art history, their future careers, how they interact with other people. All of these are ways of thinking that are valuable for their futures, as they go to college, discover their passions, and pursue meaningful career opportunities.

Reshard and Alissa pose for photos. Photo by Front Room Photography

I’ve shown how this program helped these students grow in many ways. What about the Museum itself? Have these students had an impact on our institutional practice?

Institutions move at a slower pace than most programs, and if change and impact are complex to measure in sixteen individual students, then it’s multiplied tenfold for an organization that serves hundreds of thousands visitors a year. Even so, over the past few years, the work of teens in our programs has slowly but surely worked its way into the daily fabric of the Museum. Teens have interviewed artists on behalf of the institution. They have advised docents on ideas for giving tours to high schoolers. Their video projects will be part of on-site and online Collection Resources at the Museum, as well as our Archives, for all visitors to access while learning about works of art.

Ultimately, evaluation and impact are ongoing, a grey area that has a lot in common with the act of teaching itself. When done well and intentionally, evaluation doesn’t just show if we’ve met a goal. The tools we use to evaluate ideally become part of our teaching practice, because they reinforce the very abilities we are trying to help our students develop.

The Satellite High School Program Teens, 2013-14. Photo by Front Room Photography

Adapted from an essay originally posted on ArtMuseumTeaching.com.

Chelsea Emelie Kelly is the Museum’s Manager of Digital Learning. In addition to working on educational technology initiatives like the Kohl’s Art Generation Lab or this very blog, she oversees and teaches teen programs. Say hello on Twitter @MAM_Chelsea.

Edgar Degas (French, 1834–1917), Dancer Holding Her Right Foot in Her Right Hand [Danseuse tenant son pied droit dans la main droit], ca. 1904; cast 1919–20. Bronze. Purchase, Bradley Conservation Endowment Fund M1984.70. Photo credit: John R. Glembin.

Degas began portraying the Opéra—its stage, practice rooms, and dressing rooms—and ballet dancers in the late 1860s in drawings, paintings, prints, and sculpture. In the late nineteenth century, ballet dancers were essentially urban workers; they toiled away in practice rooms for countless hours at the expense of their bodies. These women were in a similar social position to Degas’ other subjects of urban labor: laundresses and prostitutes. The ballet was a subject that occupied Degas’ interest for the next forty years until his death.

Though he exhibited and sold two-dimensional works of ballet dancers regularly, Degas only exhibited one sculpture in his lifetime: the Little Dancer Aged Fourteen (1878–1881).  Degas sculpted many works in addition to the Little Dancer, usually in clay or wax, but did not exhibit them or had them cast permanently in metal.

As he aged, Degas’ eyesight worsened, and he became increasingly sensitive to light exposure, forcing him to work indoors and in dimly lit spaces. Degas complained of his eye troubles to many of his friends, evidently worried of the affect on his work. After meeting Degas for the first time, Edmond de Goncourt wrote the next day in his journal, “this Degas is an original fellow, sickly, neurotic, and afflicted with eye trouble to the point of being afraid of going blind.”

By the 1880s, his eyesight began to inhibit his ability to paint and draw, so he began to work more in wax and clay, which relied less on his sense of sight.

After Degas’ death in 1917, about 150 pieces of sculpture were found scattered in his studio.  One of the sculptures was the original sculpture which provided the cast for Milwaukee Art Museum’s Dancer Holding her Right Foot in her Right Hand.  This sculpture is a cabinet-scale ballet dancer balanced on one leg as she reaches behind to grasp her right foot with her right hand, her left arm extended forward as a counterweight.

Edgar Degas (French, 1834–1917), Dancer Holding Her Right Foot in Her Right Hand [Danseuse tenant son pied droit dans la main droit], ca. 1904; cast 1919–20. Bronze. Purchase, Bradley Conservation Endowment Fund M1984.70. Photo credit: John R. Glembin.

This original looks strikingly similar to the bronze edition because of the color, though this is due to darkened wax which collected dust and dirt in Degas’ ill-kept studio.

Surprisingly, Degas never took himself seriously as a sculptor; he both admired and practiced sculpture, all while discrediting his own efforts. Though he consulted with friends who were sculptors, Degas’ techniques were not traditional.

Edgar Degas (French, 1834–1917), Dancer Holding Her Right Foot in Her Right Hand [Danseuse tenant son pied droit dans la main droit] (detail), ca. 1904; cast 1919–20. Bronze. Purchase, Bradley Conservation Endowment Fund M1984.70. Photo credit: John R. Glembin.

Degas only had three of his works cast in plaster during his lifetime and never authorized a bronze casting. This may be because, for Degas, any work was open to alterations; he was known to ask for pieces back from buyers in order to make changes years after the sale. He is quoted as having said to François Thiébault-Sisson in 1897, “my sculptures will never give the impression of being finished, which is the termination of a sculptor’s workmanship, and after all, since no one will ever see these rough sketches, nobody will dare to talk about them, not even you.”

But Degas was wrong.  Many people do talk about his sculptures, both those finished and unfinished.  Despite the interest in them, many scholars have difficulty placing Degas’ sculptures within the context of nineteenth-century sculpture and largely relegate discussion to Degas’ other two-dimensional depictions of ballet dancers.

Edgar Degas (French, 1834–1917), Dancer Holding Her Right Foot in Her Right Hand [Danseuse tenant son pied droit dans la main droit] (detail), ca. 1904; cast 1919–20. Bronze. Purchase, Bradley Conservation Endowment Fund M1984.70. Photo credit: John R. Glembin.

In subject, the ballet was a relatively more subversive subject than it is today. Ballet dancers were often pulled from the lower, working classes. While the work was arduous and had only a small chance of success, the career of a ballet dancer offered social mobility. Often, this social mobility was afforded to a dancer by a wealthy male patron (perhaps most famously represented in Emile Zola’s Nana, whose title character achieves fame in the Opéra), leading to their association with clandestine, unregulated prostitution.

In a way, these sculptures are supremely representative of Degas as an artist. They are unusually composed, created with experimental materials, portray urban subjects, and are perpetually unfinished. While Degas’ sculptures, like Dancer Holding her Right Foot in her Right Hand, have been immortalized in bronze, do we consider them to be complete works or merely studies?

While it is important for viewers to remember that these sculptures were not exhibited and exist in various states of completion, Degas’ sculptures are works of art to be considered in their own right. Like any other number of incomplete or works-in-progress—such as da Vinci’s sketch books or Bernini’s bozzetti—Degas’ sculptures offer a unique insight into the artist’s genius and working process.

– Jennifer Spindler, Curatorial Intern