Ann Klefstad Discusses Double Vision at the Tweed

Twentieth century ideas of Western art have been tremendously exciting for artists, and have created a realm of radical freedom where almost anything can be done. Why then does so much current art seem so irrelevant to so many? As an artist I worry about this. This talk is an attempt to locate some strategies to bring art into contact with ordinary life again, to give it traction.

So began Ann Klefstad's thoughtful and thought-provoking talk at Tuesday eve's Tweevenings.

She began by setting forth a concept that very much intrigued me because it seems to be a true truth that I have perceived but never knew how to articulate, the notion that there is a canon of what is considered art and what is outside the canon.

Twentieth century Western art seemed to be largely in the service of creating visual art as a separate realm, a self-referential practice in which artists addressed ideas of art’s status (such as, what was allowed to be called art, what was legitimate). The modern and postmodern strains alike both seemed committed to ensuring that art was about art, no matter what it was made of or who was doing it. Art that wasn’t about art—that is, illustration, decorative work, traditional visual practices—tended to be shut out of the canon.

And against this backdrop, Klefstad sought to open the door once more, or rather, widen the box, or knock down the fences so that what was being called "art" could become more inclusive.

The four pieces she selected from the Tweed were Dennis White's sash, a painting by Frank Big Bear, a print by John Sims, and a carved wooden ladle with a goose-head at its tip. The title of her presentation: Double Vision, art that isn't simply self-referential (art for art's sake) or that arises from the Western traditions of art history. Nor is it art for investment sake. Rather, it is double-duty work that "performs action in the larger world."

Dennis White's finger-woven sash is exactly this kind of double-duty work, a work of art that is also worn, best displayed in conjunction with a body. This kind of art gets diminished by calling it a craft. Klefstad highlighted the features of this piece and noted how it ignores the boundary between craft and art.

White is an Ojibwe mathematician from Hayward who makes art but also teaches math. If I understand her correctly Klefstad identified what it was that has made the distinction between art and craft. Something made for intellectual purposes, that serves the mind, can be art while that which serves both the mind and body gets relegated to craft status. This ought not to be.

Dennis White brings to this array the ability and confidence to ignore these boundaries: his sash incorporates the patternmaking of mathematics, seemingly the most “intellectual” of practices, with the pure visual appeal of color and form, and with the loyalty to mind and body together of traditional craft.

The colorful picture by Native artist Frank Big Bear became Klefstad's next talking point. Frank Big Bear grew up on the White Earth reservation, then went to Minneapolis where he drove cab and raised six kids. His colorful Prismacolor drawings reflect some of the influence of Kandinsky, but his renderings of perspective transform traditional ways of seeing. Klefstad then went into detail "reading" the imagery in this magical composition.

She next addressed John Sims' drawing and print from the math and art show, a mathematical metaphor about fractals and the Golden Ratio that permeate quilt patterns and Pi, complexity and beauty. Mathematics is the ghost in the machine... or the machinery of the universe.

Klefstad then turned her attention to the spoon. Native artists have often had their work relegated to the anthropology section of the museum rather than being called art. She spoke at length about the features of this simple carved tool, a work of beauty and functionality.

In the end she stated that many artists today are striving to bring art outside art's walls to the larger community because they aware that there is a disconnect between art and the broader culture. Artists with "double vision" will help us escape the canon imposed on us of what art "should" be. This talk was her contribution toward that end.


You can read more of Ann Klefstad's ideas here.

Chester Chat On Art Was Both Fun and Informative

Last Thursday I attended my first Chester Chat at Glensheen Mansion, the 7.6 acre estate built by Chester A. Congdon just over one hundred years ago on the shore of Lake Superior and donated to the University of Minnesota-Duluth in 1968. I heard mention of it on KUMD radio and was intrigued to learn that something like the internationally recognized TED Talks was taking place here in a UMD-sponsored event.

The idea behind TED Talks is "Riveting talks by remarkable people, free to the world." The Chester Chats program has been patterned after this format of bringing some of our locally remarkable people to briefly share insights on various themes. And last week's theme was about art.

Despite excessively cold temps, the three speakers filled the room with a public eager to hear lively presentations about regional art. Dan Hartman, interim director of Glensheen, served as moderator. Our featured speakers were Sarah Brokke-Erickson, MFA who teaches at St. Scholastica, Anne Dugan, curator and interim director of the Duluth Art Institute, and Dr. Jennifer Webb, who teaches art history at UMD.

What follows are a few brief notes from what each brought to share.

Sarah Brokke-Erickson

Sarah Brokke's talk was titled "An Artist's Perspective" and her opening line set the tone. "You can hardly throw a rock here (in Duluth0 without hitting an artist."

Brokke, who hails from Grand Forks and came here to attend college at UMD, has had the privilege of studying abroad in places such as England, France, and Florence, Italy. She considers herself a post-post-modernist.

She asked, "What makes someone an artist?" And she began with the earliest form of art that is with us today. "What compelled people to make cave paintings?" It is clearly a human thing to create, she noted. Art is a human expression. Therefore everyone has potential to be an artist.

She stated that to define what is art puts limits on what is possible. She closed by encouraging us to take time each day to perceive and reflect on the world around us.

Anne Dugan's talk about regional art began with her sharing a pet peeve of hers. Duluth has a thriving art scene, but too often she hears people dismiss it by unfavorably comparing ourselves to other places, The reality is, we're not New York. We're not Austin. We're Duluth!

Recent painting by Scott Murphy

After initially introducing us to two Russian artists Dugan gave short presentations on three local artists who exemplify qualities of our region. First of these is Scott Murphy, whose mural at the library is a wonderful example of public art. His recent show at the DAI is rooted in a Northern Minnesota blue collar tradition. Next, she gave us Katharine Meier, who moved to Duluth from a small town in Nebraska. Her work goes beyond depiction and returns to open spaces. The influence of Native culture permeates our local art scene as well, and Dugan highlighted this by sharing Annette Lee and Ojibwe X-Ray paintings of William Wilson. The slides fail to do justice to these works which need to be seen in person to be fully appreciated.

Dr. Jennifer Webb talked about Glensheen's connection to art. Chester Congdon created an arts board when he was young that eventually became the Duluth Art Institute. He was a founder of the Society of Encouragement of Art in Duluth, an unwieldy name but noble in purpose. The group bought a major painting for the new Carnegie Library downtown and put together a show in 1898 featuring the art of our region and artist David Ericson.

Their aim was to create a legacy around the twin themes "All of us are artists; all of us are collectors." Their aim of supporting artist and making a community impact is with us to this day. 

Tweevenings October: A Deeper Look at Charles Biederman and the Tweed's Redwing #29

Tuesday night the Tweed Museum of Art in Duluth kicked off its new program to help the public gain a greater sense of art appreciation. Bill Shipley, who spent his career in the midst of the New York arts scene from 1974 to the 21st century, was the presenter. Mr. Shipley discussed a sculptural aluminum relief by abstract artist Charles Biederman called “Redwing #29” which is now in the Tweed collection.

The presentation and subsequent discussion was rich and rewarding. My only criticism is that the event coincided with a lecture just down the hall by Michael Duffy, a former conservator at the Museum of Modern Art in New York who had the privilege of working on Picasso’s "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon." Just one more incident in which I wish I could clone myself. Fortunately I did not know what I was missing till I missed it, which means that I was fully absorbed in Biill Shipley’s discussion of Mr. Biederman and his work.

Charles Biederman was an unusual man who had the good fortune to have had a patron who provided the artist with a monthly stipend. Biederman has been variously described as a revolutionary, a rascal and a recluse. Shipley calls him “the reformer of Redwing.”

Biederman was born in August 1906 and lived through one of the most amazing epochs in art history. His primary influences were the early works of Piet Mondrian (not the Broadway Boogie Woogie of Mondrian’s later years) and the later works of Paul Cezanne. Like myself he was born in Cleveland, Ohio, and took his first art classes at the Cleveland Art Institute (he as a teen, myself as a five year old.) Because of his commitment to art, when he moved to Chicago at age twenty he chose not to pursue a more lucrative career but, rather, pursued his art and supported himself with odd jobs along the way.

Redwing #29 by Charles Biederman

Shipley shared that Biederman was also a writer, having penned an elaborate 800-word manuscript called Art as the Evolution of Visual Knowledge. His ideas were progressive and at often incomprehensibly on the bleeding edge of what modernism was doing to the art scene. His book of ideas and theories laid the foundation for the abstract explorations that followed.

The piece that we examined Tuesday evening was a three-dimensional piece which exhibited a measured energy, almost musical in its chord-like construction. Redwing #29, created in March, 1950, was gifted to the Tweed by M. Ghia in the year 2000. At the time it was valued at $30,000, but worth considerably more now as now Biederman’s works are included in collections at the Whitney, the MOMA, the Metropolitan and the Tate.

Charles Biederman might not have been a man most of us would like to have been close to. He drank heavily and stank of Cuban cigars. The headstrong, socially frustrating Czechoslovakian tended to insult and alienate people and, to use today’s vernacular, “didn’t play well with friends.” Nevertheless, as an artist he had uncompromising high standards. He was extremely rigorous about craftsmanship.

Mr. Shipley shared how Biederman returned to Redwing, MN and softened with age. Ultimately he ended his life away from the world’s art centers on the bluffs of the Mississippi.Due to failing eyesight Biederman abruptly quit making art on January 7, 1995.

A simple Google search will show you the range and beauty of Biederman’s abstract, romantic constructions and designs. He called his work structuralism. Shipley called it a symphony of colors.

Art dealer and collector Betty Parsons once famously said, “Never confuse the artist with the art.” Biederman, like the famously difficult Jackson Pollock, exemplified this matter. Interestingly enough, when he died in 2004 he received more recognition in Europe than in America.

Minimalists noticed the work he was doing in the post-war New York scene. Donald Judd was especially aware and influenced.

The thing I took away from this discussion more than anything was Shipley encouragement to join the “slow art movement.” That is, take five minutes to study a single piece before moving on. Usually there is far more in each than meets the eye, or the soul. As I have frequently stated here in this blog over the past several years, engage. Engage the piece fully. Take your time and take it in. Don’t go to a museum and try to see everything. The faster you move through the corridors the less you see. Take your time.

Thank you, Bill, for this presentation, and especially your reminder that to fully appreciate a work of art we should take it slow.

Reminder: Artist Kamikaze V tonight from 7-9 at Pizza Luce, Downtown Duluth.

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