Philip Forrester is the Assistant to the Senior Curator and to the Community Projects Director at The Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts.

By Philip Forrester

Though installation went down to the wire, The Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts experienced a resounding success for the opening of In the Still Epiphany.

 The blustery, rainy weather broke just in time for the press preview hour with curator Gedi Sibony at 4:00 pm. The walkthrough opened with remarks from Kristina Van Dyke, director of The Pulitzer, who spoke briefly about some of the process behind the installation. Emily Rauh Pulitzer, who graciously donated her precious artwork for this exhibition, waxed eloquently about the more personal and sentimental attributes of the featured works. Gedi, in his humbly quiet tenor, explained the somewhat ethereal process of choosing the placement and scope of the installation. The public opening at 5:00 pm contained many of the same elements, though in a less directed manner. Patrons enjoyed both the remarks by Gedi concerning his vision, and his openness to everyone’s interpretation.

Greeting  visitors as they walk through into the Entrance Gallery is the stern gaze of Joseph Pulitzer, though Vuillard’s enigmatic Woman in a Green Hat shares a private joke with the audience immediately to the right. Gedi explained that the visages of figures such as Cezanne’s Jules Peyron, Helleu’s Kate Davis Pulitzer, and Vuillard himself represented the world of people, the finite, the gaze folding back onto the viewer as they rotated around the “crowded” space. The serene gaze of Mme. Line Aman-Jean points the way to Picasso’s Fireplace—what Gedi described as the fulcrum of the space. Walking through the corridor fronting the watercourt is meant to be a transcendent journey from the world of the known to the realm of the unknown; the infinite.

Above: Paul Cézanne, Jules Peyron, c. 1885–87, Oil on canvas, 18 ¼ x 15 in. Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum; Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Pulitzer, Jr., 1961.144

While the Entrance  Gallery is meant to convey a sense of permanence, the Main Gallery’s cathedral-like space allows the viewer a breath of contemplative air. Domesticity abounds throughout this gallery. Curtained windows, a fireplace, seed jars, and Bonnard’s table of vibrantly colored fruit and ham present a quiet refrain from the “party” of the entryway.

 Patrons who moved along to the Cube Gallery found a darkened space focused on a theatrical display. Visitors described this gallery as both “womb-like” and “tomb-like,” allowing for both perspectives to envelop the “puppet-like figures” fronting the black swath of Fontana’s punctured canvas.

Moving down the broad steps brought patrons past the tenderness of mother and child cast in wax and plaster, continuing the sense of the domestic domain. Guston’s wildly colorful canvas pinned next to an almost austere Peruvian mantle prompted one patron to expound on the “juxtaposition of [Blue Black] from the vertical to the horizontal along the wall.” The lower gallery presents a Malinese power object and Picasso’s Woman in a Red Hat positioned in such a way that they seem to pay homage to Lucia Maholy’s photograph of a woman’s dressing room. Down the long hallway receding from the lower gallery, Benson’s ducks take flight along the wall toward another Vuillard  female figure.

 From stern gazes to wild, abstract colors, visitors to The Pulitzer for the opening of In the Still Epiphany experienced a vast array of masterful art through disparate mediums, all while journeying quite naturally through a docile, contemplative vision of blissful thought.

In the Still Epiphany

On view

April 5 – October 27

David B. Olsen is a Ph.D. Candidate in the Department of English at Saint Louis University, where he teaches courses in writing and literature. He is a gallery assistant at the Pulitzer and an editor for the website Humor in America.

By David B. Olsen, Gallery Assistant

Within the collective imagination of our culture, one of the stories that we like to hear pretty frequently is about what happens when a familiar space becomes temporarily inaccessible. From the coming alive of everything in Night at the Museum to Charlie Chaplin’s antics as an after-hours watchman in Modern Times, we tend to believe that something special happens at the exact moment that we are not allowed to see it. (I remember knowing instinctively as a young child that the best TV shows always seemed to come on after my bedtime.) And although I would love to dispel this myth here and confirm that “Yeah, the Pulitzer is between shows right now, and it’s really boring because nothing is going on,” the reality is quite the opposite. 

Something is going on. Actually, it’s quite a lot, with only a few more days of preparation for the April 5^th opening of In the Still Epiphany, an exhibition of works from the collection of Emily and Joseph Pulitzer, Jr. that is being arranged by guest curator Gedi Sibony, whose own work is known for its poetic fragility. But it takes a lot of work and a lot of noise, hammering, cutting, scaffolding, balancing, and measuring to ensure that when we return to our regularly scheduled programming, so to speak, the works of art on display are once again aligned with the meditative qualities of Tadao Ando’s architecture.

With this show, Sibony’s fluid arrangement of a seemingly unlikely array of works will flow like a breath through the building, while at the same time challenging the way that, in viewing art, we stop ourselves to observe an individual work. The rhythm that emerges is equally dynamic and thoughtful, intellectual and joyful. None of this would be possible, however, without the work of Shane Simmons and his installation crew, who – despite the fact that you’ll never see them – are not only responsible for doing the literal heavy lifting of this exhibition, but are also charged with the seemingly paradoxical task of transforming the Pulitzer without actually changing anything.

In the video, Shane offers a behind-the-scenes look at some of the work that goes into putting a show together – particularly one in which the display of the works, according to Sibony’s vision, is as crucial to the overall impact as the works themselves.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Too often, and for too many of us, we tend take for granted the idea that art has a transformative power. We can see in an installation project the transformation of an otherwise inert space, or we can witness everyday materials transformed into new works of wonder and meaning. But as our own Community Projects Director, Lisa Harper Chang, reminds us in her recent blog entry at The Huffington Post, art may also has the power to transform someone’s life. Writing about the Staging project that she co-created with our former director Matthias Waschek for the Old Masters exhibition in 2009 — and which was revived this year for Reflections of the Buddha – Chang describes the community of former prisoners and veterans that is fostered and sustained by the program.

As these men and women embrace the challenge of becoming actors in a company over the span of several months, we come to see in their performances both the transformative and redemptive powers of art: the occasion to counter stereotypes, break down boundaries, and present a previously unimagined idea of the world. Chang’s piece outlines the success of the program and and features video of one of the performances, but she also calls for a renewed commitment to understanding incarceration and rehabilitation in America.

Read Lisa Harper Chang’s blog entry “Staging Buddha” on The Huffington Post here

Kristina Van Dyke, director of the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts, challenges the notion that appreciating art requires intellectual mediation and hopes that the complicated issues of cultural patrimony will not dissuade museums from exhibiting objects of cultural and artistic significance.

Interview by Hold That Thought at Washington University St. Louis

Community artist Juan William Chavez discusses the importance of experiencing creation of art in the making of the lanterns as well as the ceremony in which they were employed and distributed. The following takes us through the lantern ceremony from conception through implementation.

Workshop

Inspired by the Lotus Lantern Festival, The Lantern Project was a series of lantern making workshops with actors from Staging Reflections of the Buddha. The Workshops were led by Bob Hartzell and myself with the goal of creating an installation in the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts’ (PFA) reflection pool.  Light Sculptor, Bob Hartzell, was the perfect collaborator and did an amazing job leading the actors in the construction of the lanterns.

“I’m so grateful to have participated in the lantern project and to witness how the Staging program affected all of its participants; it was a unique experience to be able to share in a small way how the Buddha works affected their viewers. The lantern project was especially gratifying personally – both in the representational interaction and seeing how months of work were disseminated to a community in a perfect moment of construction and communication.” – Bob Hartzell

Reflection

After the workshop concluded, I led several conversations with the actors giving us time as a group to reflect upon the process and journey of the project. Inspired by the Lotus Lantern Festival, the lighting of a lantern symbolizes a devotion to performing good deeds and lighting up the dark parts of the world that are filled with agony. We discussed the studio practice and how meaning begins to develop when making an object. The actors one by one talked about their personal experience in the workshop and the meaning that their own lantern represented. It was a very powerful conversation, a conversation that could not have happened without experiencing these workshops.

“The lanterns represent togetherness, creating something from scratch as a group.  Think positively that we can do something greater, seeing the light and following it into the future.” 

-Lamonte Johnson, Actor

On the last day of the exhibition, seventeen lanterns were installed in the PFA’s reflection pool. Each lantern represented an actor that participated in the workshop and represented our conversations, collaboration, and progress as a group. Through the lanterns, the dark becomes bright, symbolizing the Buddhist belief in the power of enlightenment to dispel human suffering.

Ceremony

Part of this project was to also share the experience with the public. We created the Lantern Ceremony to honor the closing of the Reflections of the Buddha and the Staging. The public congregated inside the exhibition at the PFA with the Mid-America Buddhist Association that led viewers in a chant followed by a cavalcade outside of the building. The procession concluded in the courtyard behind the PFA where audience members were met by 200 glowing lanterns suspended from trees.

The crowd then gave their attention to five Thai monks that recited the Mangala Sutra (The Supreme Blessings) in Pal commencing the Lantern Dedication Ceremony. The dedication refers to both a dedication of merit to recognize all good will and works created by this exhibition, as well as the new relationships that have formed through the Staging process and performances. 

Once the Mangala Sutra ended, actor Darryl Parks took the microphone and announced a moment of shared meditative silence where he invited the audience to think about the significance of the light in the lanterns and the hopes and dreams we share as a community.  After a few minutes passed the mediation came to a conclusion with the sound from Tibetan Singing Bowls. Once the silence was broken, Darryl invited the audience to take home a lantern as a reminder to carry the light forward as a symbol of positive social change.

As an artist and cultural activist, it’s important to take a Zen approach to Socially Engaged Art programming. Being liquid in thought and process allows projects a certain type of freedom to go beyond any preconceived notions that often limit projects. This freedom can have surprising results and can be a powerful vehicle to address cultural and community issues in the city of St. Louis. The Lantern Project was the beginning of this conversation and encourages further discussions on how “we” as a community can create positive changes by working together and being Zen.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Raheem Thorpe, a Staging actor, talks about Sugimoto’s Sea of Buddha and how he feels about being back at the Pulitzer since being part of Staging Old Masters.

by Amy Broadway, Interim PR Coordinator

One of the main goals of Staging workshops is that the actors personally connect with the artworks in Reflections of the Buddha. The company will craft and perform scenes in the spring based on musings about the stars of the exhibition, such as Prince Shotoku, the giant sculpture of a left hand, or perhaps Oscar Munoz’s La Línea del Destino (Line of Destiny). The works haven’t been officially chosen yet, and it will be interesting to see what gets picked.

Several Fridays ago, Agnes Wilcox, the artistic director of Prison Performing Arts and the workshop leader, asked the actors to pair off, peruse the exhibition, and speculate about the images they saw. Afterwards, the exhibition’s curator, Francesca Herndon-Consagra, led Staging through the galleries, sharing her knowledge of the artistry, cultural history, and meaning behind the works.

In the video above, Raheem Thorpe, a graduate of the Staging Old Masters program, talks about how he and his peers first interpreted Hiroshi Sugimoto’s Sea of Buddha and what they learned from Francesca. The last time I saw Raheem, he was working with teaching artist Jenny Murphy in Urban Renewal, part of the Urban Alchemy series of programs Transformation. You can see him interviewed in 2010 here. He’s great on camera, and I look forward to seeing him on stage (Staging will perform in the galleries alongside the art).

As a side note, many of you may recall that this is not the first time the Pulitzer has been graced with Sugimoto creations. As we celebrate our tenth year–which officially began in October– we’re looking back at past exhibitions and web catalogues. Click here for another blast from the past, a look at our 2006 exhibition Hiroshi Sugimoto: Photographs of Joe.

Four Mandalas (dkyil‘khor), 18th century; Tibet; thangka; colors on cotton, mounted on silk brocade; 31¾ x 24 in.; The Nelson Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, Missouri, Bequest of Joseph H. Heil, 74‑36 /16

Our next Frame of Reference is tomorrow at 2pm. Please stop by the Pulitzer to listen to Miao Han, director of the Fo Guang Shan St. Louis Buddhist Center, talk about Standing Buddha Amitābha (Amida Nyōrai) in the entrance gallery. The group will then move to the lower gallery to hear Dr. Qing Chang, Asian art professor from University of Missouri St. Louis, share his insights about Guardian King of the North (Vaiśravana).

Last month I had the opportunity to participate in a group of stimulating and varied Frame of Reference talks that addressed the theme of healing in Buddhist art. Neuroscientist Ben Kolber connected Green Tārā’s seated pose of royal ease to his own work as a pain researcher. He identified this pose, known in Sanskrit as lalātisana, as a relaxation posture, noting that the experience of pain is markedly less acute among people who meditate. John Mueller, professor of architecture at Washington University, shared his fascination with Monk Ananda’s ever-so-slight smile, noting that a comparable smile can be found on several Buddha and Bodhisattva figures throughout the exhibition. See, for example, Standing Buddha Śākyamuni (Shijiamouni) and Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara (Karunamaya). According to Professor Mueller, the gentle smile conveys the peaceful contentment that enlightened beings experience through nonjudgmental acceptance and appreciation of their surroundings.

My presentation focused on the healing aspects of Four Mandalas, an eighteenth century Tibetan thangka, or portable icon, from central Tibet. A mandala is a diagram used as a guide to meditation. It represents the dynamic relationship between the Buddhist practitioner and the cosmos of the mandala’s central deity. As you move mentally through the various sections of the diagram, your consciousness dissolves and you temporarily become one with the deity’s cosmos.

Positioned at the center of Four Mandalas is Amitāyus, the Buddha of health and longevity. Clad in red, he sits crosslegged in the lotus posture. His hands, which rest on his lap in the dhyāna (meditation) mudra, hold his special emblem, the ambrosia vase. Many Tibetan Buddhists commission images of Amitāyus to gain karmic merit and to assure health and long life for themselves or someone close to them.

You’ll notice that Amitāyus is seated on an elaborate lotus throne which grows directly out of a body of water. The lotus functions as an important symbol in Buddhism and it appears on numerous artworks in this exhibition. Sprouting from the mud, this flower grows up through the water’s surface only to blossom in the sunlight. Buddhists regard this process as an ideal metaphor for the human spirit, which can transcend duhkha—the negative circumstances of daily life—through meditation and study of the dharma.

The four mandalas represented here are “palace-architecture” diagrams and they float against a blue-black background of mountain peaks and clouds. Each mandala is enclosed by a series of rings. The outermost ring is the belt of fire, signifying the knowledge essential for bursting the bonds of ignorance. The second ring is the narrow black “vajra” belt, which represents enlightenment, the threshold of the spiritual world. The third ring is the circle of eight cemeteries and features eight ascetics meditating in scenes of nature. The innermost ring depicts a circle of pink and red lotus leaves, indicating that the practitioner has left the world of senses and has entered the spiritual realm.*

After making your way inward through the four rings, you’ll notice a structure that resembles a town square. There are four T-shaped doors, each of which is located at one of the four cardinal directions. Each door is flanked by different colored bands that connect all of the doors. These bands represent the walls of the emperor’s city. Arches rise above the doors and encircle a series of stories that are supported by columns. All of these architectural elements represent different aspects of Buddhist teaching, upon which the practitioner meditates while moving through the diagram.

At the center of the upper left mandala you’ll see a dancing blue figure with four arms. She wears a crown of skulls and holds a skull cup in her lower left hand. This semi-wrathful deity is a dākīni, an accomplished yoginī, who acts as a guiding intermediary for practitioners during meditation.

As your meditation comes to an end, you’ll move outward from the center, through the four exterior rings, and back into the material world.

*The source for my discussion of the iconography of Four Mandalas is an unpublished essay titled “Amitāyus,” written by Dorothy F. Fickle for The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in 1968.