Category: Blog Post 5

I chose “Beacons,” which is a mural I found while walking along the High Line with my group. I don’t think it can be replicated as a painting because that would fragment its meaning and purpose on the High Line. Now, looking back at the picture I took, the mural does not look half as majestic as it did when I first saw it at the High Line. I could tell it’s huge by the angle of the picture; still, the image doesn’t compare to what my eyes witnessed and the context in which this picture was taken. As I’m writing this post and analyzing the image I took, my head is at a 90-degree angle looking straight at the screen. However, when I took this picture, I was looking up, in awe of the mural’s beauty and size. Though I have analyzed this image twice from my point of view, the feelings it evokes in me are different. At the High Line, I thought the mural was vibrant because of the contrast of its colors, and I thought of it as a symbol of hope and excitement for the uncertainty of the future. The person in the mural is walking regardless of what is coming up ahead of them and uses the light to clear the darkness in the path. But when I saw it on my screen, I started to question whether my perception was accurate or not, and it wasn’t because the mural is actually meant to honor young climate advocates who are trying to save the world one innovative idea at a time. I lived through completely different experiences based on the context of where I saw the mural. Isn’t that the reason why we are not supposed to duplicate art?

I wonder if I were in a museum and saw this mural as a medium-sized painting, would I even take a picture? Perhaps not because its context would not have evoked anything in me. However, when I first saw it on the High Line, just peacefully existing amid the chaos of a touristic site and the combination of the concrete jungle and the nature inhabiting the place, I was speechless. My experience of seeing my picture and the mural in person should be an explanation of why replicas don’t work out of their original place.

Last Wednesday, my group explored the High Line between 14th street and the entrance of the Hudson Yard. The most outstanding artwork to me was the 25-foot Buddha sculpture. This being my first ever visit to the High Line and I was curious to see in person the  25-foot Buddha sculpture as I have seen it only online. At first glance, I was wowed by its size and the contrast between the ancient-looking figure and the modern skyscrapers surrounding it. Although the sculpture can certainly be photographed, I do not think it can truly be replicated in the same way that a painting can. It felt different walking around it, and actually experiencing it firsthand. 

Per our classroom discussion, John Berger argues that paintings can be reproduced through photographs, books, and digital media, making them accessible almost anywhere. So, a photograph of the Buddha sculpture can show its appearance, but it cannot recreate the experience of standing beside it. Seeing the sculpture in person allowed me to appreciate its large size, its weathered texture, and the way its golden hands shine in the sunlight. One cannot experience these details by viewing only a photograph. These details made the work feel much more powerful than any image could communicate. A photograph captures only one angle and one moment, while seeing it in person allowed me to walk around it, observe it from different perspectives.

I think this visit to the High Line further helped me better understand Berger’s argument that reproductions change the way we experience art.

The piece I chose was the film playing in the Southern half of the High Line. It’s actually two films by Laura Huertas Millán titled The Anaconda River where from noon-10pm the films are shown to the public. During the trip, I wasn’t able to stand and watch them as we were under a time constraint, but the description was enough to pique my interest. There, in an empty corridor of the High Line, a series of visuals haunt the atmosphere. The films, Aequador (2012) and The Labyrinth (2018), center around Latin American ideas of utopia and rewritten history as a tool for social commentary regarding the native-futurism and colonialism.

I tried watching the films at home, but it seems as though only snippets are publicly available online, making the screenings at the High Line that much more  coveted. Regarding replication, new advances in Artificial Intelligence suggest that film can be replicated much more easily than before. But when taking a closer look, these films aren’t only original, they carry a weight only a human with lived experiences can convey. That, coupled with the screenings at the High Line makes for an irreplaceable experience. Not only is the art itself irreproducible, but the feeling of standing on the High Line on a warm summer day with the breeze drifting by you and occasionally cooling you down as you stand and watch these films about Latin life is a feeling you can’t even reproduce if you go again on another day. Given that it is a film being projected onto a wall, I can’t even imagine the experience when the sun goes down and the visuals can shine in their full glory.

Yet, it makes me question John Berger’s arguments regarding the camera and how its introduction transformed narratives combined with visuals into a distinct art form. The images from the film aren’t original, they’re technically reproductions–––captured by the camera and displayed to the viewer through a fixed narrative. If seen without the context, passersby might see them and think they’re just displays of nature. That’s where Berger’s argument comes into play. Millán’s display of these visuals along with the narrative allows for the art to take shape. What could simply be a video transforms into a commentary on the lived experiences of Latin American people and what could’ve been if Native civilizations were left alone to flourish.

The piece I picked is on a brick wall visible from the High Line. It is a face in white spray paint, no plaque, no signature, no artist I could find. Under the chin it says YOUNG VEEZY, and someone else tagged ADEK further down the same wall. Nobody curated or approved any of it, probably.

Could it be replicated the way a painting can? It’s complicated.

We said in class that even paintings are hard to replicate. A print flattens the brushwork, and you would need something like a 3D scan and printer to lay the paint back down at the right depth. This is harder. The paint seeped into the brick unevenly and the mortar lines create a grid across the face. That grid is now a part of the mural. To copy the mural you would have to copy the wall.

Berger says images, like paintings, used to be made for one specific building, like a church, and its original meaning was tied to that unique place. He also said that the invention of the camera broke that by turning art into something portable and sellable, destroying their original meaning, but now allows the art to mean many different things. This piece undoes that. It cannot be moved, sold, or authenticated, but it still suffers from all the issues that the camera introduced. Yet the mural exists in one place, illegally, (again) probably.

My photo keeps the composition and the lettering. It loses the texture and the grit. It freezes the light, since the wall will read differently at 1 PM than it does at 9 PM. It loses everything around it too, the foreground of the High Line itself, the other commissioned artwork in the space, etc. Standing on the High Line, you see sanctioned and unsanctioned art in the same line of sight. Cropped into a photo, that comparison disappears.

Here is where Berger’s idea potentially fails. He assumes the original stays put and the copy travels. Graffiti gets buffed, painted over, or torn down with the building, the paint is already fading away. In a few years my photo may be the only version left. With a painting in a museum, the reproduction sends you back to the original. With this, it eventually replaces it.

For my blog post I decided to use Patricia Ayres collection of sculptures titled “2-18-5-14-4-1-14-3-12-15-14-6-5-18-20”, “7-5-18-20-18-21-4-5-8-5-9-6-20-1”, and “2-15-14-1-16-9-14-1.” To answer the prompt quite simply, no, it cannot be replicated in the way that paintings can. When I first approached this somewhat unsettling sculpture of bulging elastics, hooks, and straps it somehow immediately felt organic or human. I had not read the placard yet much of the artists intention was conveyed to me. These pieces were meant to look like “anthropomorphic sculptures that blur the boundary between body and garment.” I feel that by being immersed in nature I was already primed to look at this piece with an organic natural lens. While looking back at the photographs I took, being removed from the intended setting, that message does not feel easily conveyed. If the High Line offered a print or a miniature replica of this piece in their gift shop, I would have the same assessment that I had when I viewing Water Lilies by Monet at the MOMA. That is, if you are not witnessing the art in its intended setting, or at its intended scale, then the impact will likely be lost on you. Furthermore, if this exhibit was moved to an indoor setting I believe that much of the organic feelings brought on by its blending with nature would be lost.

 

    The piece I chose is the 25 foot Buddha statue which can be replicated in many different ways. To give a bit of background, the statue is a symbol of peace and compassion for people to let go of suffering in their lives. Buddhism itself explores the nature of the mind to help individuals overcome conflict and chaos in order to reach enlightenment. With Buddhism being the fourth largest religion in the role, it is easy to see how this statue can be replicated in many different forms. Anecdotally, I have seen some of my Chinese friends who are Buddhists wear the Buddha pendant around their neck in traditional green Jade. In addition, when researching, I discovered that there is an Ancient Sculptural Gallery that sells oriental Chinese Buddhist statue reproductions at varying price ranges.

      Seeing this in person was a breathtaking experience as it is not everyday that you see such a large detailed work of art. Seeing it in person made me think about the process behind importing this work of art and how much time and dedication that went on behind the scenes to bring this work to life. A replication would certainly not have the same effect or impact in the way that a 25 foot statue in the middle of Manhattan would. A replication would not be able to do it justice to the craftsmanship of the artist behind the original piece.  In this case of art, replication is a tall task both literally and figuratively speaking due to the sheer size and complexity behind this work of art. It is not any ordinary piece that we see in everyday life such as poetry in motion on a subway. This piece is unique in that way. Moreover, this sculpture cannot directly be replicated in the way that paintings can be as we discussed in class with Berger’s Ways of Seeing. 

 

 

 

The piece of art I chose is in the form of architecture. I chose this building whose windows you can see from the High Line. Researching a bit about this building I found out it is a luxury condominium called “The lantern house” . What really captivated me about this building is the shape of its windows,  in reality there are two buildings, each with a different pattern on the windows. By arranging the windows in such geometry, playing with the reflection, and having the windows close to each other, it turns it into another piece of art on the High Line, almost like grenades or the shell of a turtle. It reminds me of a perfume my mother used to have that had a grenade shape, similiar to this photo:

I do believe that this design of architecture could be replicated in different mediums, like used in different buildings or  maybe souvenirs. But I believe, just like seeing a picture of a painting, it’s not the same as the original view from the high line. The high line provides a view from an elevated ground, which makes you feel closer to the windows and gives you a glimpe of the life of people staying at the building. Also when you are in the high line you have to look up at the building to appretiate it, and that act of looking up and admiring something gives the viewer a sense of awe which you can’t obtain when looking at it through a photo.