Santa Cruz Art Show Redefines "Open Studios" by Putting Artists on Display

"We really wanted to challenge what you expect to find in a museum," says Curator Wes Modes of Art Works at the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. The show brings the artists in residency to the gallery where the public can engage with them. (Photo: Rachael Myrow/KQED)

pARTicipate-button-400x400This summer, the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History ventures into new territory -- by putting the artists themselves on display. In so doing, the show Art Works gives a whole new meaning to the concept of “open studios.”

The first thing that strikes you when you walk into the museum’s Solari Gallery is an open, wood-framed artist studio within the gallery, where Hua Meng Yu, who prefers to go by her artist moniker "Miss Tanq," is giving Bob Russo of Soquel a Yi Jing reading.

"Bob, I’d like you to think of an area of your life that you would like some more clarity on," Miss Tanq says to Russo. Russo “asks the cards” to provide him with some sense of direction for his personal goals and focus. He has an eight-year-old daughter, he says, and Miss Tanq understands that to mean his home life is especially important to him right now.

Based on this interaction, the artist picks out one of her handmade masks, puts it on Russo, and snaps a photograph of him. Called “Grandmother,” it’s the face of an old Chinese woman ringed with faux white fur. The mask suits Russo perfectly.

Bob Russo of Soquel wears the "Grandmother" mask after his Yi Jing reading about the importance of family in his life.
Bob Russo of Soquel wears the "Grandmother" mask after his Yi Jing reading revealed the importance of family in his life. (Photo: Rachael Myrow/KQED)

"The mask comes to life only when somebody puts it on," Miss Tanq says. "It is actually made to be embodied."

Sponsored

This entire encounter is not the kind of thing you expect to find at an art museum. And that’s the idea.

"I think people expect to find an institution dedicated to art objects," says curator Wes Modes. "I think they expect to find things on the wall. We want to pull the walls off of that experience. So that you can look inside, see the artist behind that to see the art process that happens. And then  step into that process and take part in making art."

All of the artists in this exhibition have come up with different ways to provide audience members with deep insights into their process, using everything from Yi Jing to  music.

Nanci Amaka is a conceptual artist born and raised in Nigeria, who makes print and textile sculptures in response to conversations about trauma and memory. There are several stations in Amaka's open studio at the exhibition. For those people comfortable with the idea, the artist creates bright orange prints of their scars while they tell her the story behind the scars.

Nanci Amaka paints over Whitney Campbell's scar involving an ill advised sip from a glass milk bottle when he was two. She presses a piece of paper over it, and voilà- a print.
Nanci Amaka paints over Whitney Campbell's scar involving an accident with a glass milk bottle when he was two. She presses a piece of paper over it, and voilà -- a print. (Photo: Rachael Myrow/KQED)

Meanwhile, other visitors to Amaka's studio might prefer to sit in solitary fashion at a desk and write down stories about their scars. Then the artist tucks the texts into soft, fabric sculptures that she hangs up in the gallery.

Amaka explains she intends to change the way people think about the experiences that created the scars. "These things are about moments in our lives that were traumatic and owning them," Amaka says.

"These things are about moments in our lives that were traumatic," says Nanci Amaka. By retelling the story, she says, people can reclaim the narrative. Instead of feeling like victims of their experience, they can "own" the scar.
"These things are about moments in our lives that were traumatic," says artist Nanci Amaka. By retelling the story, she says, people can reclaim the narrative. Instead of feeling like victims of their experience, they can "own" the scar. (Photo: Rachael Myrow/KQED)

You might think scars are yucky. But Amaka says many people feel
proud of them. "They love them!" the artist says. 63-year-old Lucy Kemnitzer of Santa Cruz cetrainly feels that way about her scars. She’s gone to the hospital many times over the years, and sees each surgery scar as evidence of a victory over everything from childbirth to breast cancer.

"From the cesarean scar that saved me and my son up to the most recent one, which is a lumpectomy scar, all of the scars I got either saved my life or they're enhancing my life," Kemnitzer says, pointing to a map she drew of her body.

The exhibition is also constantly changing, as none of the artists in Art Works are there the whole time. You never know what you’ll be asked to do when you walk in. The only certain thing: it’s not enough to observe from a distance.

Art Works continues through Sunday, Sep. 25. More information here.

Volume
KQED Live
Live Stream
LATEST NEWSCAST
KQED
NPR
Live Stream information currently unavailable.
Share
LATEST NEWSCAST
KQED
NPR
KQED Live

Live Stream

Live Stream information currently unavailable.