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News The Fly-By

Q&A: Lauren Kennedy of the UrbanArt Commission

Lauren Kennedy, executive director of the UrbanArt Commission (UAC), says although the coronavirus pandemic has hit artists hard, the organization has more than a dozen projects in the works.

Kennedy, who says public art is a critical asset for communities — especially Memphis because of its “rich culture” — discusses how the pandemic has affected the UAC and artists and how the organization is moving forward. — Maya Smith

Lauren Kennedy, executive director of the UrbanArt Commission

Memphis Flyer: How has the pandemic affected the UAC as an organization?


Lauren Kennedy: Nonprofits all across the country are hurting badly. We were fortunate though, as we were in a better place than a lot of folks at the end of the fiscal year. Looking ahead is a little different though. This will probably be a really hard year for fundraising.

MF: How has the pandemic affected UAC’s commissioning of artists?


LK: The work has really taken off in a more intense way. Everything feels more urgent right now. As soon as the pandemic hit, we knew the biggest priority was keeping projects moving along to keep payments going to artists.

Artists are among a number of folks being hit hardest by coronavirus. A recent report said nationally 62 percent of artists are unemployed and 95 percent have lost income. That’s really significant. So we moved some timelines up and reallocated some funding to create more opportunities to get money to artists. Public art is one vehicle to take care of these folks.

Art is often the first thing on the chopping block. But art is critical for any place to thrive and be vibrant. I think it’s easier for people to say that art is valuable and forget that artists are the reason that the art exists. We talk about art as an abstract concept apart from the artist doing the work. We need to reorient our conversations around art to put the priority on the people making it.

MF: Has the pandemic changed the way the UAC engages the community?


LK: In March, we were pushing ourselves to engage the community where two projects would go: Whitehaven and Raleigh. We were planning to have public meetings before the artists were selected to bring the public in sooner and let them vote on proposals. When we first all went into quarantine, we knew we couldn’t do that as we intended so we turned it into a virtual thing.

We look forward to engaging people in person again, but in the meantime we are thinking about how virtual spaces open up more opportunities to participate for those who can’t attend meetings in person.

MF: Why is it important for public art to continue?


LK: Art is something we pass down to future generations. Memphis has always been a culturally rich place, and I think art is a big part of that. And public art is even more valuable right now since people can’t go and experience other forms of art. But public art has always been important because it’s accessible. People don’t have to walk through a marble entranceway to see it. Hopefully, now public art means more to people since COVID has changed the way we experience art.

MF: What projects does UAC have in the works?


LK: We have over 20 projects in the works. We just commissioned five artists for a new project at the airport. They’ll be in the new Concourse B. They’re all local artists, so we’re excited about that. The artists commissioned to do projects at the new convention center are in fabrication mode, and one of the murals will be installed before the end of the month. We’ve also got a mural project in Gooch Park through the Neighborhood Art Initiative program.

MF: What are some of the UAC’s priorities moving forward?


LK: One thing we are thinking about is how do we push ourselves to be responsive to whatever happens in front of us. This not only applies to COVID but also the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd. How do we pay more attention to what’s happening around us? We want to create platforms for artists to respond to these things. How does justice show up in our work in a way it hasn’t in the past? That’s something we, as a team, will spend some time thinking about in the coming months.

MF: Anything else you’d like to add?


LK: We’re going to get through this together. And we want to be a part of this togetherness.

Categories
Cover Feature News

Memphis 3.0: The City Makes Plans for Its Third Century

“Is this just another study?!”

The question brought a hush to the proceedings. Everyone realized that the woman asking it had cut to the quick of the matter. I was attending one of the public outreach sessions sponsored by Memphis 3.0, a new initiative to develop a comprehensive plan for the city’s third century, which begins in 2019. Such public meetings tend to attract the same few citizens who have the mindset and the time to get involved, and this woman was clearly a veteran of many such gatherings. Her question immediately conjured up the ghosts of past bureaucrats and academics, however well intentioned, that raised hopes for change, only to offer more business as usual after the data was collected.

But Ashley Cash, a veteran of neighborhood planning herself, and head administrator at the city’s Office of Comprehensive Planning (OCP), was confident and quick with her response: “Whatever is written in this plan gets transferred to the policy and code of the city.” This was, she insisted, going to be a plan with follow-through.

And it was perhaps the first time that one could honestly say this about such a document.

While municipal planning is nothing new, it has only evolved in fits and starts in Memphis. A comprehensive plan like Memphis 3.0 aims to coordinate various project-specific plans with a holistic vision of how to best grow the entire city. If our growth and wealth tend to concentrate around a “cone” expanding from downtown to the east along Poplar, how do we spread it out? How do we encourage businesses in underdeveloped neighborhoods. How do we improve transit to serve them better? How can we make all neighborhoods more livable and more sustainable?

Justin Fox Burks

Meet the architects of Memphis 3.0: (from l to r) Lauren Kennedy, John Paul Shaffer, and Ashley Cash are pooling city resources to design a plan for a better Memphis.

John Paul Shaffer, executive director of BLDG Memphis (a nonprofit that facilitates community development corporations and projects), says, “You can look at our peer cities and model cities, and there’s not a single one of them that doesn’t have some sort of guiding document for how they’re doing business. And how they’re making development decisions.”

The only such plan Memphis has is nearly 40 years old.

Community input has become de rigueur for such plans. “Of course, public meetings are the tried and true method to reach people,” says Cash. “But we’ve also tried to partner with a lot of agencies who have existing networks.” That includes the two chief nonprofit partners in the Memphis 3.0 initiative: BLDG Memphis and the UrbanArt Commission.

If that third partner strikes you as unconventional, you’re correct. Only a few cities have pioneered the tactic of having planners work with artists. (In fact — full disclosure — that’s how I came to be involved with Memphis 3.0, as a consulting musician.) But that’s not all that’s innovative about the project. The biggest leap forward has been to simply take the idea of a comprehensive plan seriously, initiating community involvement across the vast area that Memphis has become, from Presidents Island to Cordova.

Shaffer sums up the city’s history this way: “The city has grown by this cycle of flight and annexation. And that goes all the way back to people getting out of downtown to the streetcar suburbs, and then it continued through the civil rights era, through white flight, and bussing and all these kinds of things that played into it. And it’s all been facilitated by government policy — how government spent money on programs that were accessible mainly to middle-class white families. Then they built highways and all these things that spurred this development and encouraged it. Memphis ate it up to some extent, and that’s how we grew in the entire 20th century.”

Coping with the sheer sprawl of Memphis is the key challenge to planners. City limits that encompassed only 51 square miles in 1945 have grown more than six-fold today. In the 1960s, plenty of federal money was available to subsidize municipal planning departments, but soon after they had to function independently, at the mercy of the economy. This wasn’t always a bad thing, given that one of the major planning goals of the 1970s was to demolish Beale Street. That initiative foundered, but by the late 1970s, there were still enough resources to begin work on the city’s most recent comprehensive plan — completed in 1981 and updated the year after.

“Bringing artists into the equation” helps keep Memphis 3.0 planners thinking outside the box: Yancy Villa-Calvo, the artist behind GEMS (short for Go Explore Memphis Soul), works with Memphis youth to design a stylized map of the city.

The city’s commitment to this plan was rarely resolute, possibly because widespread public input was not a priority. And without citizen involvement, there was no accountability. “If you look at our last comprehensive plan,” says Cash, “there really wasn’t a lot of community engagement in that. That’s just the way the profession was at the time.”

As Shaffer sees it, “It’s not like community engagement didn’t exist back then. I just don’t know that locally it was highly valued the way this project values it. I’m sure there were probably constituent groups that were at the table, and maybe that’s because they’d always been at the table.” What makes Memphis 3.0 different, he says, is “thinking about new approaches and bringing artists into the equation and doing pop-up meetings and bus tours. Even serving meals at community meetings is new. Some of these new approaches are exciting to see at the local level. These approaches have been around for a while; it’s just nice to see them come home.”

“Bringing artists into the equation” is the ideal way to express the process by which aesthetics are brought to bear on a discipline that has traditionally been the realm of number-crunchers. And it brings us to the third primary player in Memphis 3.0, the UrbanArt Commission (UAC). Executive director Lauren Kennedy recalls the evolution of her thinking: “Several years ago, the UAC budgeted for a public art master plan. When I came on board, I didn’t know exactly what to do with that money, because at that point — this was 2015 — there wasn’t really a planning department. There wasn’t some comprehensive city plan to tie it to, and I didn’t want to produce a public art master plan that just lived in a vacuum. So I didn’t move on it that year. Then we got a new mayor, a new administration. Jim Strickland came in and basically rebuilt the Planning Department and the Office of Comprehensive Planning. Also, when I was thinking about how to use that funding, I was starting to follow work in Calgary and Minneapolis, where artists and designers had been plugged into city departments to think about things differently, to come at things from a different approach and perspective, and to consider some of the aesthetics of the way the cities were operating.”

The work in Minneapolis’ Creative CityMaking program that inspired Kennedy ranged from street theater to a “rolling foot cam” video project that recorded pavement-level images. The public interest in such projects was so impressive that Kennedy and John Zeanah (who had recently helmed the Mid-South Regional Greenprint and Sustainability Plan) made a trip to Minneapolis to see it firsthand. What they saw was enough to convince them that artists could take public engagement to a new level. At the same time, Zeanah’s Greenprint project was making a new comprehensive plan for the city seem doable.

“I feel like that was kind of a turning point,” says Shaffer. While his BLDG Memphis had been calling for a comprehensive plan for years, “the Greenprint showed a lot of people who had never seen that comprehensive approach or hadn’t seen it in three decades, and kinda put that back on the table for folks. Where we’re looking at this through the lens of green spaces, but we’re looking at housing, transportation, and workforce and education and health and equity and these kinds of things that make a comprehensive view.”

Roger Eckstrom works with local students at Promise Academy to practice making a plan for the city.

Thus, with some additional encouragement from Paul Young, director of the city’s Division of Housing and Community Development, a perfect storm of influences led to the founding of Memphis 3.0. And in an innovative move, the UAC was at the heart of the operation.

“I’m grateful to the city for being open to this experience and the journey with us,” Kennedy says. She wasted no time in putting out a call for artists. Out of more than 50 applicants in March of last year, three were selected, and bless my soul if I wasn’t one of them. And while we artists are just beginning our engagement events, we’ve worked out some interesting ways to re-imagine our city in creative ways. I am in very good company. Yancy Villa-Calvo, a native of Mexico City, has done public art installations for some time, the most recent being her “Barrier Free” project, which used a movable wall and mirrored silhouettes of families to urge participants to empathize with the immigrant experience. For Memphis 3.0, she has devised an installation called GEMS (Go Explore Memphis Soul). She’ll be visiting neighborhoods with the GEMS mobile, a crystalline-like art piece superimposed on a map of the city, using eye-catching images that encourage people to draw or write what they love, dislike, and hope for in their neighborhood.

Neili Jones, a Raleigh/Frayser native, has studied design, fashion, and brand management, but her real interest is stories. “My goal is to ensure that as many voices get involved as possible,” says Jones. “I meet the people where they are — community meetings, rallies, groceries stores, or at bus stops. My art is about utilizing space and collecting the visual story.” Having most recently done activist art in Atlanta, her work for Memphis 3.0 uses creative set pieces to elicit narratives from residents concerning the history and development (or lack thereof) of their neighborhoods.

As for me, a native of Memphis, Nebraska, my public art (aside from performing in rock or jazz bands) has always centered on sound design for independent movies, modern dance pieces, or gallery installations. My engagement project for Memphis 3.0 focuses on the environmental sounds that surround us. “ReMix Memphis” is a traveling audio experience, using field recordings of Memphis in a user-friendly app that allows participants to mix together the sounds they’d like to hear (or not hear) around them. A way of thinking aurally, not visually, it encourages people to re-imagine the livability of their community. The best part? I’m crowd-sourcing my field recordings. Use your phone to record things like trains, planes, automobiles, playgrounds, or what have you, then email them to remix.memphis@gmail.com.

As one of the artists for Memphis 3.0, I’ve had a front row seat to its implementation. A particularly inspiring moment came during a retreat by the entire team of Memphis planners and artists in St. Louis. One community organizer there, based in Chuck Berry’s old neighborhood, told us: “Every community has a heartbeat. Find it!” And we have followed that counsel. Divvying up the city into 14 districts, three planning teams, each one armed with an artist, are setting up local headquarters as the year unfolds.

The teams also benefit from a small army of expert planners, aside from the professionals already working for the OCP, including local design firms brg3s, Ray Brown, and Self+Tucker, the University of Memphis School of Urban Affairs and Public Policy, and the Berkeley, California-based firm Opticos. The latter have consulted with many cities, based on the key insight that “walkable places are critical for healthy, resilient, and equitable communities.” And, in a departure from old-school urban planning that would have sacrificed whole neighborhoods at the altar of progress, Opticos operates with a “focus on social, environmental, and economic responsibility — a triple bottom line.”

Noble goals indeed, but as I joined the first tour of neighborhoods in the North District (a sprawling administrative fiction stretching from Harbor Town to Hyde Park and Douglass), I wondered how we could bring such values to bear on what we saw. Ray Brown and local residents spoke about significant places on our route (and I spoke about significant musical sites, such as Manassas High School, what was once Johnny Curry’s Club, and the former American Sound Studios, now a Family Dollar). What struck me most was the tragedy of what North Memphis has endured at the hands of collapsed or departed industries. All that’s left of Firestone, one-time employer of thousands, are the ruins of a factory and the brownfields around it, too polluted for cost-effective remediation. Its looming smokestack made me wonder: Could any amount of planning remedy this history?

And yet the mood was upbeat as we tooled up and down Chelsea. When I spoke to community members who attended, they felt their concerns were falling on sympathetic ears, by and large. Quincey Morris, of the Klondike-Smokey City Community Development Corporation  felt that the Memphis 3.0 workshops could have been scheduled better, so as to include seniors who don’t go out in the evenings, or single parents. “Other than that,” she said, “I think that they did listen, especially in my one-on-one interview with [OCP planner] Trey Wilburn. And as 3.0 moves forward, we do intend to stay involved and participate. We have an opportunity to have input and hold people accountable. And I think that’s the only way that you can do it.”

Indeed, as Cash notes, accountability is key: “We can continue the conversation. The process ends in 2019, on the tail end of 2018, but, really, what we wanna be able to say is, ‘Okay, it’s 2020, and we’re still engaged in the community.'” Shaffer adds, “If we adopt a plan that citizens and communities don’t feel like they have any ownership in, it’s not something that’s easily implementable. It’s an uphill battle. Bringing people in for the whole process and the whole ride, it helps get it adopted and makes sure that decision makers are following this guiding document, because it’s something the entire community has come together and said: ‘This is our vision for our city and for our neighborhoods.'”

Visit www.memphis3point0.com to learn more and see when workshops and artists’ events are scheduled near you.

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Opinion Viewpoint

Here vs. There

Troy Wiggins said it beautifully in a recent Memphis Flyer column: “Artists set the tone for their cities’ cultural presence.” I couldn’t agree more, but I’m not here to present this issue to you again. I want to address the idea that there is some kind of irreconcilable divide between local and non-local art.

Lauren Kennedy

In my two years now at the helm of the UrbanArt Commission (UAC), I have heard many a frustration expressed about public art commissions being awarded to out-of-town artists. These frustrations are often coupled with concerns over scarcity of resources (similar to a competitive vibe you can find between nonprofit organizations sometimes) or assumptions that out-of-town commissions mean a lack of confidence or interest in local artists. I would like to share a different point of view.

Working with out-of-town artists does not have to happen at the expense of supporting the local art community. And it certainly doesn’t mean that Memphis is lacking in creative talent or ideas. It just means that we aren’t the only city making art.

I believe it in my bones that exposure to work made in different contexts and places creates a more dynamic and challenging art environment at home — an art scene that continues to grow and has conversations outside of itself. I also firmly believe that out-of-town artists working in Memphis grow from their time here and take something of this magical, weird place back home with them — a place about which I care very deeply. We are selling ourselves short to think that we can’t draw inspiration from and inspire others in such vital work.

Just a few points about our work through the city’s percent-for-art program that might be helpful:

• All of our calls are open to local artists.

• UAC maintains a commitment that 60 percent of city-funded projects are devoted to local artists.

• If you have never worked on a public art project or fabricated something large-scale, we encourage artists to partner with someone who does have that experience or skillset. Ask us how!

• UAC is not a voting entity on artist selection committees.

Beyond what we do through the city’s percent-for-art program — an important municipal investment in our public spaces — we are constantly asking ourselves how else we can support local artists. We are proud to work alongside ArtsMemphis and Crosstown Arts to offer free, monthly professional development workshops for artists to enable local folks to be successful in this field — in Memphis and across the country. In the same way that we want to engage nationally in the art world, we want to see Memphis-based artists taking on opportunities in other cities. But we have a lot of room to grow to help facilitate this.

UAC is committed to identifying new ways to support local artists through offering training opportunities, bringing local and national investors and their dollars into this work, and recognizing that there will always be room to do more and better. UAC, as well as other organizations, can also work more deliberately to make sure that local artists get opportunities to spend real time with people coming into our city. Asking folks with different expertise and practices to share with people while they are here will create an ongoing exchange that will, in turn, lift us all up.

In our current political climate — with our entire federal investment in the arts on the chopping block — it is counterproductive to pick apart any available arts funding or to isolate ourselves from dynamic and imaginative people and places. This is a moment to continue rallying together across the country to support every art community that could suffer from the defunding of the NEA and NEH.

Eileen Townsend wrote a column for the Flyer in 2015 called “Is Loving Local the Wrong Approach?” She punctuated her cheeky but thoughtful feature as follows: “We can love our Memphis roots without limiting the reach of our arts. The best way to choose 901, as far as contemporary art is concerned, is to know that the sphere of creativity is not delimited by I-240.”

It’s true. We need to support local art and non-local art, but we need to prioritize the work more than we do these lines of division.


Lauren Kennedy is the executive director of the UrbanArt Commission.

Categories
Art Art Feature

Is Loving Local the Wrong Approach?

Way back in 2013, there used to be a snarky Tumblr called “Commercially Unappealing” whose author (or authors) critiqued the Memphis art scene from behind the veil of anonymity. Though it is now defunct, the blog used to occasionally make some sharp judgments, among them, the thought that “there should be a moratorium on including the words ‘Memphis’ or ‘Southern’ in exhibition titles here.”

The post was a response to a reader-submitted question that queried, “What is the longest span of time that has elapsed in Memphis without there being an art show ABOUT HOW IT IS IN MEMPHIS? When you go to a city like, say, Denver, do you want to see a bunch of self-referential shit?”

“Memphis,” the harried reader concluded, must “find comfort in its regionalism.”

Regionalism. Ah, yes. The condition under which contemporary art made anywhere but New York, Los Angeles, London, and Paris must be qualified with some explanatory epithet. These qualifiers (he’s a Southern artist; that’s an Appalachian sculpture) serve a double purpose of both promoting a kind of exceptionalism (how folksy and real!) that protects the art from any actual contemporary critique and places it squarely beneath a kind of Mason-Dixon-y glass ceiling. Regionalism is the art world equivalent of introducing yourself as a “female writer” rather than just a “writer.” It’s a classic dilemma of people who have been treated as an underclass, who have had to craft their own narratives, failing an institutional embrace. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Southern arts are historically so identified not because they are lesser or greater, but because we offer something unique that is worth identifying at the outset.

It is good to acknowledge where you fit in history. But when — we female writers and Southern artists ask — does the label fail to serve?

In the case of Southern art, the answer is that we are overdue. Seventy years ago, there was ample reason for Memphis painters to identify first and foremost as “Memphis artists,” considering that they might rarely leave the tri-state area in their lifetimes, and most of what informed their art could be found in a 50-mile radius. Not so these days. We have Wi-Fi. Reddit exists. It’s not exactly breaking news that we live in a globalized world, a world from which so-called “regional” artists are inextricable.

So when you tell me that your art show is about “Southern arts,” I expect work with a narrowed gaze. It’s not that it is artistically wrong to paint cotton fields under a mottled blue sky. It’s just that there can no longer be any pretense that landscape painters in Memphis aren’t just as inspired by Instagram as they are by the Arkansas lowlands. It would be as telling to call your show “The Art of the South(ern Users of Google Image Search).”

Emily Ballew Neff, the new Brooks director, is all for opening up the conversation. Says Neff, “I’m a firm believer in cross-pollination, and Memphis has an ecosystem that I believe would benefit by greater exposure to international and national artists.” She maintains that a more international perspective, correctly executed, would “never be at the expense supporting our Memphis artists” but instead “will only elevate the art conversation in our city and lead to a more vibrant community artistically overall.”

Likewise, Urban Art Commission’s director Lauren Kennedy says, “I think there is a lot of room for Memphis to participate more broadly in the national arts scene. There are people making work, and big conversations are happening, but I don’t feel like we are as plugged into those conversations as we can be … I see that kind of interaction as an incredible growth opportunity for everybody.”

We can love our Memphis roots without limiting the reach of our arts. The best way to choose 901, as far as contemporary art is concerned, is to know that the sphere of creativity is not delimited by I-240.

Categories
Art Art Feature

“Akin” at Crosstown Arts

Last summer, New York art critic Christian Viveros-Fauné wrote in The Village Voice that folk art is merely the new fad in big-business art collecting and that folk artists have “precious little to say about our time’s most pressing issues.” Folk artists, wrote Viveros-Fauné are “Sunday painters, stitching septuagenarians, and religious cranks” who are usually “dead, mentally impaired, or can barely speak for themselves.”

Royal Robertson’s art piece in “Akin”

Viveros-Fauné’s so-called Sunday painters would probably include reclusive spiritualist Royal Robertson, a New Orleans-based artist who used tempera paint on wood or posterboard to make work about the end of days, as well as Memphian Joe Light, a self-taught painter and driftwood sculptor. Work by Robertson and Light and eight other folk artists is currently on display at Crosstown Arts Gallery as part of the show “Akin,” through July 6th.

“Akin,” curated by Southfork gallerist Lauren Kennedy, is meant as a companion show to the Brooks’ upcoming “Marisol: Sculptures and Works on Paper” exhibition. The works all come by way of the Webb Gallery in Waxahachie, Texas. The Web Gallery, according to its website, is interested in “painted or repaired objects, fraternal lodge items, carnival banners, tramp art, memory jugs, quilts, and just killer oddball stuff.”

Ike Morgan’s Mona Lisa

Like the work of the genre-bending sculptor Marisol, who often used a folkish style (despite her formal training), the works in “Akin” have range. There are oblique hubcap sculptures by Hawkins Bolden alongside Ike E. Morgan’s grotesque canvas paintings of George Washington. Kennedy says, “Looking at Marisol’s work, there was a quality that struck me the way folk art does. The materials and the way you can see her hand in the work … the work felt akin to a lot of folk and outsider art that I enjoy.”

“Folk art” is a loose category. Though it usually describes work by untrained or informally trained artists, it has also come to describe a style, the hallmarks of which are cheap or found materials, obsessive mark-making, and a disregard for formal perspective. Painters like Esther Pearl Watson, whose landscapes are featured in the show and often include sparkly UFOs and scrawled writing, are more D.I.Y than traditionally folk. The same is true of Fred Stonehouse, a featured surrealist painter who holds a B.F.A. from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Stonehouse and Watson aren’t exactly outsider artists, but their work is in the folk canon, alongside Robertson’s rough drawings and Light’s Old Testament-inspired sculpture and painting.

Watson’s paintings, particularly, unify “Akin.” Her 2012 painting Bail Bonds shows a small female figure walking in front of a storefront. Yellow balloons float to the sky, and a UFO hovers unobtrusively over a leafless tree. It is a barren scene in what looks like a warm, Texas winter. A notation at the top of the painting reads, “Dad is in Jail in Florida. He gets released the 29th. Mom is upset. He doesn’t know if he wants to come back or not.” There is something flexible and self-conscious about Bail Bonds. It is accessible like a comic but has the depth of a much-worked-over painting; perhaps Watson gave the work a folkish look to create this effect.

“Akin” does well by the “religious cranks” that Viveros-Fauné maligned. The critic’s wording is reactionary and rude, but he touches on something true: Folk artists could usually give a flip about big art world business, and so folk art has always been a weird bedfellow with the gallery scene. What is called for is more shows like “Akin” that embrace a broad and warm aspect of an important community of artists.