Tag Archives: University of Maryland

Current Exhibition

Construction Zone: Engaging with Evolving Spaces

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I Resist This from March 4 to April 6, 2024 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

If you have visited the University of Maryland any time in the past decade, you are likely familiar with the ubiquity of construction zones across campus. It is a regular occurrence to encounter the fenced-off skeletons of new buildings, neon orange barriers around purple line construction, and cones surrounding freshly-poured sidewalks of College Park. Areas undergoing transition are often observable by passersby, but rarely allow up-close engagement for those outside of a specialized group. A few times per semester, during changeover between exhibits, Stamp Gallery briefly becomes one of these mutative spaces, only open to those who are involved in its transformation. However, the current exhibition on display, I Resist This, defies the typical conventions of construction sites by sharing the space’s metamorphosis with a public audience.

I Resist This is a residency exhibition with artist Charlotte Richardson-Deppe, who also teaches art at UMD. Richardson-Deppe’s residency extends the installation process over the entire length of the exhibition, ultimately culminating in a live performance on April 6. As March progressed, the intricacy of the space slowly but surely grew. At first, the gallery was sparsely filled; a garland of conjoined shirts encircled a set of two pants joined at the hip with a tube of fabric. Another chain of arm-linked shirts funnel the visitor into Richardson-Deppe’s workspace at the heart of the exhibition. Guarding the artist’s sewing machines from behind, two large snake-like coils of stuffed fabric tube occupied the back of the gallery.  

As the exhibit progressed, the soft, amorphous creatures of cloth multiplied. Pillowy, yet organic tubular roots grew gradually across the gallery floor and invitingly plush mountains of multicolored cushions came forth from Richardson-Deppe’s sewing machines. Interpretive drawings by Richardson-Deppe’s students fill in the blank spaces of the wall, incorporating external perspectives into the exhibition’s body. Now, as it reaches its final stages before the performance, the exhibition has not only grown in scale, but cultivated a “lived-in” atmosphere. As Richardson-Deppe has acclimated to her new gallery-studio, the arrangement and structuring of her workspace reveals the routines and spatial wisdoms which accompany familiarity. 

From my perspective as a docent, one of the most interesting components of an exhibition-in-flux is the ways in which visitors interact with the space. Some passersby see the pieces-in-progress and instinctually lurk sheepishly around the windows, assuming that a glance is all they are allowed of the gallery. Some of these guests appear to be conditioned to keep out, trained by UMD’s many construction zones. When they notice the sign which reads “OPEN,” the visitors enter with a heightened curiosity. It feels very artistically intimate to see someone’s worktable; the tables of supplies and sewing machines are often the first place guests will explore. “Is this table part of the show?” people often ask, to which I invariably reply, “yes.” The viewer-accessible process of installation is itself a performance.  By giving viewers an exploratory privilege not often afforded to the public,  I Resist This rewards repeat visitorship through its continuous change.  

This evolution reaches its conclusion in the space’s final state with Richardson-Deppe’s live performance on April 6 at 7PM.

Current Exhibition

Questioning Individualism

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I Resist This from March 4th to April 6th, 2024 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Rachel Schmid-James

Visual art has become an individualistic art form over the last few hundred years, but it has not always been this way. Before it was considered an independent task, it was a way to bind communities together. Art has always been a part of humanity, and from the very start it has been a group project. Some of the first examples we have of humans creating art are cave paintings created thousands of years ago. These simple paintings involved everybody in the community; even the youngest children would be lifted to the ceiling to add their handprints to the walls. However, at some point down the line, industrialization in the Western world made us pull away from communal values in search of individualism. This dichotomy can be seen in soft sculptor and performance artist Charlotte Richardson-Deppe’s work: independence and togetherness have their own positive and negative aspects. She uses her performances to explore the idea of community; asking us why we are all so afraid to ask for help, and why we are so desperate to break away from each other in the first place.  

Blue

Richardson-Deppe discusses this concept in an interview with writer Charlee Dryoff as it relates to her past, present, and future projects. In her sister works titled Yellow and Blue, these struggles are front and center. In Yellow, two performers twist together in a multi-person bodysuit that attaches them at their arms and legs. While they can still move their torsos and heads freely, they have to work together to walk, fighting against each other as they do so. In contrast, Blue costumes a single person who is enrobed in ropes of blue fabric. While they are protected from the outside world and the tensions which appear in Yellow, the wearer is completely isolated and restricted by the garment. Richardson-Deppe explains that these two works are meant to represent that “both connection and loneliness have benefits and hardships.” One must sometimes choose whether to be safe from stress and tension with others but be totally alone, or to be with others and struggle to win back the independence that society has told us to crave. As seen in examples such as the cave paintings, humans are communal creatures that are meant to lean on each other for help and support. This does not mean that the struggle for independence is not valid, but it does make you question why you want independence so badly in the first place.  Richardson-Deppe shows that she also struggles with these concepts, but says that she is challenging them through the simple act of asking for help. “Asking for help is profound, vulnerable, necessary, and we all should be doing it more often,” Richardson-Deppe says. “It is also reciprocal—I will help you hang your exhibition, and you will help me film my performance. I will carry your sculpture and you will proofread my application.” As in Yellow and Blue, her new performance I Resist This, which will be performed at the Stamp Gallery on April 6, shows the value of asking. The final performance will include multiple performers all attached by the same soft sculpture. They will have to rely on each other and help pull one another, but their tension and resistance will make it difficult to do this. It is hard to accept support when everything around us suggests weakness, but Richardson-Deppe asks the audience to think deeper and take that first step towards a more supportive way of being.

Yellow

Charlotte Richardson-Deppe’s work is included in I Resist This at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from March 4th to April 6th, 2024. Richardson-Deppe end her artist residency with a performance of I Resist This on April 6th, 2024 at 7pm. For more information on Richardson-Deppe, visit https://www.charlotte-rd.com/. For more information on I Resist This and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery.

Current Exhibition, Top Picks!

Exploring Independence and Interdependence Through I Resist This

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Placeholder from March 4 to April 6, 2024 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Ellen Zhang

The conflict of independence versus interdependence has always been a silent yet prominent theme in human life. From a young age, we crave independence with stubborn I-can-do-everything-by-myself attitudes that continue into our adulthood. However, humans are fundamentally social creatures, relying on the people around us to achieve some sense of fulfillment. Expressions of independence and interdependence often manifest in intriguing ways. Charlotte Richardson-Deppe explores this concept through her evolving, interactive exhibition, I Resist This, where she utilizes the Stamp Gallery as a workspace to complete her new work of soft sculpture performance.

One way in which Richardson-Deppe reveals the tension between independence and interdependence is by sewing together shirts and pants, which are then hung from the ceiling. The laws of physics are clearly at play: gravity and suspension create a state of equilibrium. Gravity pulls the fabric downwards whereas the parts connected to the ceiling pull the fabric upwards. As a result, the collective string of shirts or pants remains stable and motionless. However, when we look closer at the individual shirts and pants, there is an evident struggle. An individual piece strives to break free while surrounding pieces pull it closer to the complete assemblage. There’s a delicate balance in effect. The independent bodies depend on each other to counter gravity but, at the same time, are individually struggling for autonomy. Through this, Richardson-Deppe captures the essence of independence versus interdependence perfectly: the intricate dance between individuality and interconnectedness within a collective fabric of humanity.

One of the standout pieces in Richardson-Deppe’s exhibition is her piece “Pants with Friends”. Here, the medium between the indigo leggings and blue velour pants is a different fabric cut: an arm sleeve. The sleeve acts as a conduit through which new perspectives, experiences, and emotions flow. This shows how the connecting force between two individuals enriches their separate lives.

What’s particularly intriguing about Richardson-Deppe’s exhibition is its interactiveness. Her exhibition consists of wearables to be worn and presented as elements of interactive performances. The purpose is to facilitate conversations on interdependence and care. Richardson-Deppe’s exhibition helps us recognize dependency as a necessity but not at the expense of individuality. Dependent relationships enrich our lives—think of the people we call mentors, confidants, and lifetime supporters. At the same time, Charlotte’s work reminds us that freedom and autonomy are important. In fact, we care more about setting boundaries and cultivating healthy relationships when these desires are embraced.

I Resist This is a space to explore the tensions between autonomy and reliance and how individual freedom is necessary to care for ourselves and others. By presenting her work as interactive performances featuring performers and audience members, Richardson-Deppe is actively practicing community engagement, which is fundamentally interdependent. By expressing independence versus interdependence in her exhibition and actively practicing it in the culminating performance, she invites us to ponder our roles within communities and the dynamics of relationships.

Current Exhibition, Uncategorized

What happens to hidden tears? 

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Placeholder from October 10 to December 9, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Reshma Jasmin

In the past few years, I’ve been making a concerted effort to cry.

“Men don’t cry” is society’s mantra for masculinity. Emotions are seen as weakness, and men are meant to be strong, so crying, which is an overflow of emotions, is emasculating. Even though I was not socialized as a man, I still learned that tears equal weakness when I was pretty young, and I was quick to internalize it. Starting when I was seven or eight, I would hide whenever I was upset— in various closets, under my bed, under desks, in between and behind furniture. My tears were meant to be hidden too, but I was never allowed to remain hidden, and neither were my tears as my brother and parents would immediately search and pull me away from my too fleeting enclosed sanctuary.

After a traumatic experience at age nine or ten, I was more adamant about hiding. I still cried, but my sobs were suppressed, so I never made a sound. I would hold shut the doors of the various closets when someone found me. In my arguments with my family, or when feeling overwhelmed in some way, tears would well up in my eyes, but I never let them fall in front of people. When I was eleven, I learned that what I’d gone through was traumatic, and until I was seventeen, I didn’t cry at all. My eyes only ever welled up because of seasonal allergies.

When I first walked through Placeholder, I saw some of my struggle reflected back at me in the pieces by artist James Williams II. 

Williams is an American artist based in Baltimore, MD whose work focuses on aspects of racial constructs, systemic racism, and cultural identity. In his artist statement, he explains that his work is meant “to challenge the ambiguity of the Black construct as both an object and personhood.” His pieces in Placeholder explore the hidden nature of identity and emotion in the Black experience. Williams explains that his work as an artist and professor is inspired by his older daughter’s questions about race. He tries to simplify the Black construct because even with all the complexity ingrained in race in America, he believes “it’s not as complex as we make it.” (from the artist’s website). He embodies “a childlike understanding” of experiences and perceptions of Blackness in America by using a blend of multiple mediums.

In the artists panel during the opening reception of Placeholder, he recounts the moment his daughter said, “I don’t see you cry.” Williams responded that he has cried, especially thinking back to his experiences as a young Black boy in upstate New York, but his daughter’s observation appears to have stuck with him.

James Williams II, This Ski Mask is for Hiding Tears, (2023), Velcro, yarn, oil paint on canvas and panel

The socialized stigma of crying and vulnerability is especially prevalent in Black communities. Due to systemic and societal/cultural racism in America, Black people are forced to be resilient just by existing. In an effort to maintain the image of being strong and avoid losing resolve, Black people are socialized to suppress their emotions and hide their tears. The title This Ski Mask is for Hiding Tears suggests that the ski mask is a refuge from being seen in weakness. The identity of the wearer is obscured, since they are not seen as an individual but as a “Black person”— a generalized entity that embodies all the stereotypes of Blackness. A ski mask is also a symbol of the racist perception of Black people as criminals. The ski mask objectifies its wearer by stripping personhood and replacing it with a criminal status. Ultimately, the tears are the only things that are visible above the mask, but they still go unseen because people do not sympathize with perceived criminals.

James Williams II, Calm Before, (2019), Velcro, oil paint on canvas and panel

When reading the title Calm Before, our minds automatically add in “the storm” to finish the phrase. The phrase refers to the quiet period before disaster strikes, and explains the anxiety that comes when things are too quiet or go too smoothly. Pressure builds when confined, so the “calm before” is really the roller coaster going up its first hill— the higher it goes, the more intense the drop.

The title Calm Before suggests a work that would depict that foreboding period of stillness when the storm clouds are forming. But the piece depicts a chaotic storm with teardrop rain falling from an angry cloud in a dark woods. The drops are different colors, sizes, and mediums— oil paint on canvas, paint on panel, or velcro. Unlike the more common titles that summarize the content of a piece, Calm Before is like the title of a poem that also serves as the first line. The title is followed by the piece, which illustrates “the storm.” This also captures that the calm before and the storm after are the same— the chaos and pain just move from internal to external. Or there is no storm at all, and it stays confined in the calm before, tears that build up never fall, and the pressure builds with no release. Either interpretation simplifies the building emotions that Black Americans carry throughout their entire “calm” or “normal” lives due to the nature of racism in America.

I encountered my own storm when I was seventeen. The bottle holding everything I refused to feel or confront for years exploded, and I sobbed unceasingly— still silent, but uncontrollable. Unfortunately, I quickly returned to a state of calmness where my tears would at least well up with emotion, but I could never find release by crying, even when I was alone. 

Williams’s work does not resonate with me in the same way it would for a Black viewer. He captures the complexities of handling and expressing emotions that Black people encounter due to the societal realities of racism and racial constructs in America. The Black experience he illustrates comes from his own lived experience. To me, Williams’s work is heart-wrenching and beautiful. His pieces tell me that tears will stay hidden and the storm will remain trapped in the calm before; that is the natural state of things, as he has experienced. But he shares that pain with the world through his work, so his pain becomes visible. Though it seems somewhat bleak and scary, his vulnerability is his strength. And that makes me want to continue making an effort to cry.

James Williams II’s works are included in Placeholder at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from October 10 to December 9, 2023.

For more information on James Williams II, visit https://www.jameswilliamsii.com/.

For more information on Placeholder and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery.

Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP), Current Exhibition, Uncategorized

Natural Fragility from Argentina to Greenland and Beyond; Ingrid Weyland’s Topographies of Fragility V as a warning about the impacts of overusing Earth’s resources

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Topographies of Fragility V from August 28th to September 30th, 2023, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by James Cho

Mounted on a wall in the latter half of the Gallery facing visitors as they enter the exhibit is Ingrid Weyland’s Topographies of Fragility V archival pigment print. Born from a return trip across the world where she witnessed how unchecked human abuse of the natural world, Fragility V stands as an outcry against humanity’s role in climate destruction. 

Ingrid Weyland, Topographies of Fragility V, 2019. Archival pigment print, edition 6/7.

Akin to many before and after photos, Weyland masterfully bridges the past and present in Fragility V. By layering a scrunched-up copy of the print on top of a flat version, Weyland symbolises the destruction of nature in how the untouched beauty of an Argentinian forest she visited in the past has deteriorated since then. In the same way that Weyland scrunched up the identical print beyond repair, visitors can observe how the damage done to this forest is practically impossible to restore, and ponder what it might have looked like during her initial visit. 

Importantly, Weyland’s message extends beyond Argentina to the rest of the world, where humans both directly and indirectly impact the natural world. Places such as the Amazon rainforest, originally an area of nearly seven million square kilometres, has lost about twenty percent of its forests. Comparatively, that would be like if the US lost a natural environment the size of California and Kentucky put together.  In the image comparison below of satellite captures of the rainforest in 1985 and 2016, the red indicates vegetation and is visibly reduced in the second image. As in the case with the forest in Topographies of Fragility V, the rainforests of the Amazon will likely never grow back, or if they do, it will be with difficulty. Deforestation of the trees disrupts the symbiotic relationship that the trees have with organisms in the soil. Namely, these organisms in the soil or on the roots of the trees provide hard-to-gather nutrients to the trees like nitrogen from the decomposing biomass (since the soil itself is close to infertile) in exchange for a portion of the energy that the trees get from photosynthesis. The loss of the trees leads to the death of this niche set of organisms, meaning that regrowing a rainforest may be near-impossible due to the loss of this previously natural symbiosis. The comparisons may not seem mind-blowing in the before/after images below, but remember that these photographs were taken by satellites that are far above the earth!

Photographs by the ESA (European Space Agency) of the northwestern section of the Amazon Rainforest.

Similarly, Greenland’s ice sheets have been losing 270 billion metric tons of ice every year. Below is a visualisation of that loss of ice by NASA since 2002 alone, which shows how over the course of the life of many college students at UMD today, water levels from this ice loss have increased dramatically. 

By providing us with a visual representation of the dire situation we find ourselves in across the globe, Weyland’s Topography of Fragility V represents what we cannot allow to continue. Because it is not What We Do After we reach the tipping point of deforestation, ice sheet melting, or climate change as a whole, but What We Do Before that matters. Before we lose not only the trees, but also the animals and other wildlife that depend on the environment formed by the trees. Before the rising water levels produced by the melted ice sheets engulf or partly engulf cities like Annapolis, London, Shanghai, Mumbai, Tokyo, and the like underwater by 2050—which doesn’t account for countries that are already facing high floods or are partly underwater already, nor for other natural wonders like the Great Barrier Reef that faces total destruction within our lifetimes. 

Current Exhibition

Process and Bureaucracy

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What We Do After from August 28 to September 30, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

Jenny Wu, Magically Found $768,000,000,000, 2022

At first glance, the two-dimensional, wall-mounted, and rectangular form of Jenny Wu’s Magically Found $768,000,000,000 might read as a traditional painting. Yet, upon closer inspection, the viewer will notice the puzzle-like assembly of resinous blocks which comprise the piece. Wu creates these blocks by repeating a process of pouring thick layers of latex paint on glass, letting it dry, and pouring another layer. She cuts cross-sections of the dried paint into mineral-like tiles, which she then assembles into a “sculptural painting,” as Wu calls it. In many traditional paintings, the techniques and processes taken to create the work are hard to discern. In contrast, Wu’s sculptural painting prominently displays the layering process as one of the central aspects of the piece. 

In combination with the piece’s visible craftsmanship, the title itself contributes a great amount of thematic meaning to the artwork. The title quotes a tweet by Michigan Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib which states “Magically found $768,000,000,000 for a defense budget, but the same folks can’t fully fund the $45- $60 billion needed to remove lead service lines in our country.” The bureaucracy of the US government, which overwhelmingly prioritizes national defense over national need, never fails to “magically” find the resources it needs to remain militarily dominant. This piece of process art, which is transparent in method, stands in stark contrast to the opaque nature of the government’s activity.

Wu’s latex agate peels away the near-infinite layers of power dynamics, lobbying, and hidden motivations which go into the government’s budgeting. By encouraging the viewer to ponder the parallels between art and governance, Magically Found $768,000,000,000 encourages transformative thought about what lies beneath the surface of our nation’s institutions. Perhaps through extraction, convolution, and rearrangement, even our government could become as transparent and beautiful as Wu’s sculptural paintings. 

Jenny Wu’s work is included in What We Do After at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from August 28 to September 30, 2023. 

Current Exhibition

Exploring What AI Means for Humans

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LIMBSHIFT from April 20th to May 19th, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Ellen Zhang

The word “AI” or “artificial intelligence” seems to be the center of focus in our everyday lives. Turn on the TV, and you’ll hear about the next big company integrating ChatGPT capabilities into its products. Open up social media, and you’ll find thousands of content creators promoting ChatGPT alternatives. While many have quickly jumped onto the AI bandwagon, some have raised their concerns over the ethical implications of using AI. From replacing jobs to perpetuating bias to lacking accountability, the moral dilemma of AI is multi-faceted and boils down to the question of how AI integration impacts what it means to be human. 

LIMBSHIFT features the work of University of Maryland second-year MFA students Dan Ortiz Leizman and Kenneth Hilker, both of whom delve into the body and its constraints in relation to the world. Leizman’s work utilizes a combination of AI tools such as ChatGPT and DALL-E to convey a post-nuclear future where human asexual reproduction is a reality. Leizman uses DALL-E, an AI system that creates artistic images based on a description, to generate the images that can be seen in their DESIRE.propaganda prints.

Dan Ortiz Leizman, DESIRE.propaganda (2023), DALL-E, prints on paper.

Another way in which Leizman has used AI is in NUKESOUND, a film that resembles an evacuation notice and breaking news report. The background music crescendos and decrescendos, filling the listener with a sense of impending doom. This elicitation of strong emotions – fright, suspense, and nervousness – emulates the intended effects of historical propaganda. Complementing the music is a robotic voice that informs UMD students to evacuate in order to escape a nuclear disaster. Despite the fact that the script, and the voice itself, are AI-generated, the message induces fear. Leizman’s explorations of how AI integration affects humanity are intricately woven into each body of work. In observing NUKESOUND, the question of what makes us uniquely human becomes extremely blurred. Most will answer by pointing to a human’s ability to communicate and express emotions, but this argument is compromised by NUKESOUND’s ability to convey and evoke intense feelings. Looking at AI’s intellectual capabilities, NUKESOUND also proves that the people that are involved in the development of propaganda – spokespersons and script writers – are no longer needed. So, then, what becomes of humanity when our intellectual and emotional abilities can be replaced?

Dan Ortiz Leizman, NUKESOUND (2023), Film, 9:50.

Hilker’s works respond to this question by touching on the idea of human transformation in relation to space. He engages with woodwork by painting, utilizing steel and acrylic, and burning wood to transform it into complex bodies of work. In Emotion Without Language, each piece of wood is imperfectly shaped but collectively creates a sense of fluidity. Some wood pieces are more charred than others, some have slanted tops, and some are slightly chipped. By putting them together, however, Hilker creates a mesmerizing, semi-spiralized structure. Each piece of wood supports one another, creating the illusion of a structure that is growing upwards. His work leaves you with the hopeful feeling that there is still room for growth in the structure and, consequently, in humans. In a world where cognitive and affective capabilities can be replicated by AI, Hilker’s work engages with a uniquely human quality: the ability for individually imperfect humans to continuously and collectively transform into something beautiful. In contrast to AI’s coherency and absoluteness, human imperfections lead to diverse perspectives, creativity, and connection. For example, our flaws allow us to empathize, enabling us to emotionally connect and form deep relationships with others as well as ourselves. As a result, there is unlimited space for us to grow emotionally, creatively, and socially. AI certainly has the potential to develop, but it comes in the form of flawless data, models, and training procedures. Whereas AI requires a perfect foundation to expand on, humanity learns from and thrives on incongruencies.

Kenneth Hilker, Emotion Without Language (2023), Repurposed burnt wood, steel, acrylic.

I see Leizman’s and Hilker’s works within a question-reply relationship, where each artist provides their unique perspectives on what humanity means in light of momentous innovations. Their works are in conversation with each other, filling the gallery with insightful dialogue on what humanity is and how we can understand humanity’s progression amidst rapidly changing surroundings. 

Dan Ortiz Leizman and Kenneth Hilker’s works are included in LIMBSHIFT at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 20th to May 19th, 2023. For more information on Dan Ortiz Leizman, visit https://www.danortizleizman.com/. For more information on Kenneth Hilker, visit his Instagram @kenneth.hilker. For more information on LIMBSHIFT and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/articles/stamp_gallery_presents_limbshift.

Comment, Current Exhibition, Explore

OPEN CALL: Redefining Beauty After Human Asexual Reproduction

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LIMBSHIFT from April 20th to May, 19th 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Isabella Chilcoat

Beauty exists in every age of human history. Classically, “beauty consists of an arrangement of integral parts into a coherent whole, according to proportion, harmony, symmetry, and similar notions” (Sartwell, 2022). By this metric, where there is harmony, a divine order, or a mathematical formula for aesthetic proportion, there is beauty. In every monumental human transition, humanity follows or creates beauty. Philosophy fails to provide a concrete answer that encapsulates the entirety of what beauty is, though. Therefore, beauty is a fluid thing, neither wholly subjective nor wholly objective. But when a new order appears, what is beauty, what becomes beautiful? 

The Stamp Gallery’s exhibition, LIMBSHIFT, is not only contemplative on beauty, it is challenging.

LIMBSHIFT features two second-year University of Maryland MFA candidates’ mixed media, multi-dimensional artworks that highlight the capacities of the human body and its limitations. One of the artists, Dan Ortiz Leizman, grafts emerging AI technology to tactile mixed media. Through their art, they hypothesize the possibilities of human asexual reproduction in the aftermath of nuclear destruction. Ortiz Leizman’s projections obliterate the present framework for gender, sex, and social identities, leaving open the space for considering beauty in an alternative landscape. In this hypothetical, asexual reproduction carries specific Darwinian hopes for eliminating some genetic diseases, altering public health, and mitigating gender discrimination (Jose de Carli, 2017). But while asexual reproduction eliminates a significant physical divide between people, it erodes individuality by limiting the gene pool in future generations. 

Imagine that there is no longer male or female, only human. There is no more variation in appearance as there is no more variation in ability. There is a new sense of sameness in reproductive ability which extinguishes distinctions in physical appearance. 

There is a new order to physiology, a new formula for evolution. Traditional sexual reproduction becoming obsolete means stripping “being sexualized” from the standard of beauty because there is no need for it. This dawn of asexual reproduction calls for a reconsideration of beauty from how it looks to how it feels, how it sounds, how it operates. How is it recognized? Moving away from the physical body and from reproduction, beauty can exist on an abstracted plane unencumbered by corrupt standards or social doctrine. Beauty detached from sexualization, objectification, and gender is open and free to shift into a new meaning. 

Beauty detached from sexualization, objectification, and gender is open and free to shift into a new meaning. 

—

Dan Ortiz Leizman’s work is included in LIMBSHIFT at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 20th to May 19th, 2023. For more information on Dan Ortiz Leizman, visit https://www.danortizleizman.com/. For more information on LIMBSHIFT and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/articles/stamp_gallery_presents_limbshift.

Resources: 

  • Gabriel Jose de Carli, Tiago Campos Pereira, On human Parthenogenesis, Medical Hypotheses, Volume 106, 2017, Pages 57-60, ISSN 0306-9877, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.mehy.2017.07.008.
  • Sartwell, Crispin, “Beauty”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2022 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2022/entries/beauty/.
Current Exhibition

Post-Apocalyptic Worlds: The Science Behind How AI and Asexuality Could Function In Maryland and Their Social Implications

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LIMBSHIFT from April 20th to May, 19th 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by James Cho

Laying on glass panels suspended from the ceiling of the Gallery, and plastered to the walls of the latter half of the Gallery are Dan Ortiz Leizman’s CONCEPTION.specimens_spells and DESIRE.propaganda. Through both CONCEPTION’s use of miscellaneous materials and DESIRE’s advertisements and explanations, Ortiz Leizman explores how AI like ChatGPT might envision a post-nuclear future where radiation from the Calvert Cliffs nuclear power plant has mutated humanity in such a way that we have the ability to reproduce asexually in DC and Maryland. Specifically, through either an agamous reproductive method of parthenogenesis, or self-fertilisation. Their work also brings forth an interesting parallel between the controversy about the use of AI in creating art, and the controversy about the use of gene-editing technologies like CRISPR that in the future could be used to create “designer babies”. But what does that mean, and how is AI related to the future of human reproduction and our perception of self? 

Dan Ortiz Leizman, DESIRE.propaganda, 2023. DALL-E, prints on paper.

Well, in the case that the radiation somehow changes human anatomy to the point that it allows for the changes in our reproductive organs seen in Ortiz Leizman’s incredible work, human women would become obligate parthenogens, which in simple terms means that women would only be able to reproduce by themselves through oogenesis (a form of meiosis, specific to the development of female’s egg cells, the ovum). This raises some issues in terms of genetic variation since it’s essentially cloning yourself, but the social implications would importantly provide lesbian couples with the ability to have children of their own besides adoption or the use of sperm banks. For men post-radiation, this could mean developing hermaphroditic traits or the ability to reproduce through facultative parthenogenesis. This second method of asexual reproduction through parthenogenesis is one in which the individual can reproduce both asexually and sexually, making men gender fluid. With this hermaphroditism, there would be a stronger genetic variation to guard against diseases wiping out entire populations of “cloned” humans that came from obligate parthenogenesis (whether male or female). At the same time, it would shatter traditional perceptions of gender identity by way of forcing us to experience the world through both sexes. Gender norms and identities that are currently only shared within the LGBTQIA+ community would be expanded to a much wider part of society in Maryland, allowing for widespread acceptance and possible push for legislative or institutional assistance for health within the state. Issues such as the gender pay gap, traditional gender roles surrounding the nuclear family (jobs, at home, in public, etc.), Men who have sex with men (MSM) blood donation discrimination, trans representation as not just “transparent” but as trans parents as depicted in CONCEPTION, and so on would finally be put at the forefront of problems discussed statewide, and with enough of a push, nationwide.

  • Dan Ortiz Leizman, CONCEPTION.specimens_spells, 2023. Powdered milk, honey, cellophane, vellum silk, soap, paper, DALL-E, durer.ai, plexiglass. Here you can observe one of the paper sheets that repeats the word “TRANSPARENT” or “TRANS PARENT” depending on how you read the text.
  • Dan Ortiz Leizman, CONCEPTION.specimens_spells, 2023. Powdered milk, honey, cellophane, vellum silk, soap, paper, DALL-E, durer.ai, plexiglass. On the this sheet of plexiglass next to the “TRANSPARENT” sheet is the AI generated art of different embryos and the green whisps on top of them on the plexiglass representing sperm.
  • Dan Ortiz Leizman, CONCEPTION.specimens_spells, 2023. Powdered milk, honey, cellophane, vellum silk, soap, paper, DALL-E, durer.ai, plexiglass. This last photo shows the powdered milk-honey-soap representation of what an early embryo might look like under a coverslip in a laboratory!

However, there are still some downsides from the use of obligate parthenogenesis set up in CONCEPTION and DESIRE in regards to cloning. As seen in the 60s with the “Big Mike” or Gros Michel strand of bananas, cloning by itself (which is what obligate parthenogenesis boils down to) shows how it’s biggest advantage – that of mass reproduction of individuals along the same genetic line –  is also it’s biggest downfall when getting sick. In the case of these bananas in the 60s, the tropical fungus Fusarium oxysporum f.sp. cubense (TR4) caused a widespread wilting of bananas by spreading a strain of Panama disease that nearly wiped out the entire population of this kind of banana. Replacing that kind of banana today is the Cavendish, which itself is beginning to suffer from the same issues due to it’s own lack of genetic variation. On top of that, issues with pure oogenesis instead of hermaphroditism pose a problem, since sperm cells are the ones that contain the genetic code for the formation of the placenta (and umbilical cord) which embryonic development needs to function. This is why (at least in the first few decades of Ortiz Leizman’s futuristic scenario), sperm would still be incredibly important to the development of the embryos seen in CONCEPTION, represented below as the green strands in CONCEPTION and the honey-milk spatters under the plexiglass. Knowing this, in the case that this scenario for humans that ChatGPT conceived occurs, would women and men face the same possible fate if faced with a disease (bacterial, fungal, or viral) that could kill us all like the bananas, despite hermaphroditism helping to reduce this risk? The answer to that question right now is yes, but as Ortiz Leizman’s work importantly discusses, AI and the advancement of technology may be what saves us if this futuristic scenario occurred. 

Dan Ortiz Leizman, DESIRE.propaganda, 2023. DALL-E, prints on paper. On the left is a poster about the aftermath of the shift to asexual reproduction in humans and on the right is a poster about the monetisation of a baby formula for these designer babies.

As the other incredibly important factor that Ortiz Leizman discusses in the blurbs that one can read throughout the posters that make up DESIRE and in her use of AI like ChaptGPT, we might be able to find workarounds in the future for this issue. Current experimental gene editing technologies like CRISPR or at the very least use gene sequencing technologies like Genome Wide Association Studies (GWAS), WGS (Whole Genome Studies), or Sanger sequencing. Because despite them being collectively being quite expensive when looking for genetic issues for one person’s entire genome (Sanger sequencing being incredibly cheap for small sequences but expensive when trying to sequence the 3 billion nucleotides in our DNA and GWAS and WGS both being around $400-600+ on top of being much less accurate than Sanger sequencing), in the future as technology improves, the accuracy and cost of these technologies will become much more affordable. With CRISPR, we also still need humans to work alongside AI, but given how we know that CRISPR can artificially create humans due to the highly ethically controversial case of the Chinese CRISPER twins from 2018 who had their genomes supposedly edited when artificially conceived, we know that in theory humans in a century or so may be able to edit the entire genome of babies/their children to better survive. Resistance to genetic diseases, height, hair colour, and other physically-related traits (depending on the person’s inherited genes) could be fitted to whatever the parents want. Most importantly, we would (possibly) be able to circumnavigate the need for sperm by extracting and copying different samples of the genetic code needed for placental development. With this kind of technology, a world where humans become hermaphrodites or capable of asexual reproduction would be much safer (as it could incorporate the DNA of both parents, avoiding the banana cloning issue), though the concept of the “designer baby” today through AI or human experimentation is one of the biggest ethical dilemmas that we face. Similar to the way that Ortiz Leizman describes CONCEPTION’s use of plexiglass suspended over the viewer as a parallel to being under a microscope, the thought of designing or editing human babies in a lab is incredibly dangerous as many equate it to playing god. This is on top of possibly creating new social inequalities between those who can afford the designing process and those who cannot, which can be reflected in  Ortiz Leizman’s baby formula poster, where this development is monetised. 

When talking about a possible scenario in the future decades like in Ortiz Leizman’s works where these techniques and CRISPR which seem grim from DESIRE’s ominous propaganda, there truly is hope behind it. In a similar way to how researchers like Henry Jenkins see newer generations of people use media and the internet to create hypothetical scenarios or entire worlds to make functioning societies and work backwards to make them a reality, Ortiz Leizman has used AI to create artwork that represents a magnificent starting point to work on into the future as we learn to become more accepting of each other, using science to support such endeavours. 

Further Reading About the Science:

Facultative Parthenogenesis: https://academic.oup.com/jhered/article/112/7/569/6412509 

Obligate Parthenogenesis: https://www.nature.com/articles/s41437-022-00498-1

Parthenogenesis in Humans (issues): https://www.biologyonline.com/dictionary/parthenogenesis#:~:text=Since%20the%20meiosis%20process%20takes,lizard%20species%20of%20genus%20Lacerta. 

Red Cross (MSM) Discrimination: https://www.redcrossblood.org/donate-blood/how-to-donate/eligibility-requirements/lgbtq-donors.html#:~:text=American%20Red%20Cross%20Values&text=The%20American%20Red%20Cross%20believes,between%20biological%20sex%20and%20gender. and https://www.universitybloodinitiative.org/post/the-history-of-msm-discrimination

Banana strain/cloning disease threat: https://www.newsweek.com/worlds-bananas-are-clones-and-they-are-imminent-danger-publish-monday-5am-1321787 and https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4652896/ 

GATTACA Movie:

https://www.google.com/search?q=gattaca+movie&rlz=1C1VDKB_enUS1035US1036&oq=GATTACA+movie&aqs=chrome.0.0i355i433i512j46i433i512j0i512l8.3155j0j9&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

CRISPR/He Jianki controversy: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAhjPd4uNFY and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pp17E4E-O8 and https://www.science.org/content/article/crispr-bombshell-chinese-researcher-claims-have-created-gene-edited-twins

Genome Sequencing Costs: 

https://www.genome.gov/about-genomics/fact-sheets/Sequencing-Human-Genome-cost and https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3400344/#:~:text=array%2Dbased%20GWAS%20at%20%24400,available)%20subject%20to%20budget%20constraint. 

Dan Ortiz Leizman’s work is included in LIMBSHIFT at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 20th to May, 19th 2023. For more information on Ortiz Leizman, visit https://www.danortizleizman.com/. For more information on LIMBSHIFT and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery.

Current Exhibition

The Artistic Body

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LIMBSHIFT from April 20 to May 19, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Oliver Foley

Art is transformation. At the most basic level, a work of art transforms materials from their raw forms into something new and beautiful. Over the course of these physical changes, the artwork undergoes intangible mutations, as well: the artist imbues thoughts, feelings, and meanings into the object. Through this alchemical process, the artist alters not only the physical work, but themselves. In LIMBSHIFT, an exhibition rife with parallelisms between body and artwork, we see into the heart of these transformations. 

This process of material and personal transformation is especially visible in Kenneth Hilker’s works “Increments of Time” and “Emotion Without Language.” Both pieces are large works of wood and steel, each constructed out of repurposed materials from various on-campus sources. For Hilker, the artistic process begins not with a concrete thought or idea, but a “feeling, or connection to the material.” From the very beginning, a sense of self is injected into the selection and collection of the scrap metals and woods. Plucked from their refuse piles, the objects begin their metamorphosis. The medium moves Hilker, inspiring Hilker to inscribe his own feelings onto the medium. 

The parallels between transformation of self and transformation of substance in Hilker’s work move beyond symbolic: the cooperation between self and art manifests in the work tangibly. “Increments of Time” was the first work in LIMBSHIFT that caught my eye. The eye-catching oceanic blues and burnt blacks combined with its large scale make it hard to miss. As the name might suggest, the piece itself represents a process through time. “I started with the left side, and you can kind of tell because it opens up to the right,” said Hilker about this piece. The form of the artwork evolved as Hilker’s perspective evolved. Like a relationship between two people, the artwork and artist transform each other through the course of the artistic process. From left to right, as “Increments of Time” develops from tightly-joined to more spacious and organic, we can see the art-artist relationship bloom.

Close-up of Increments of Time, Kenneth Hilker, 2023

The self is a fluid, fluctuating thing. “Emotion Without Language,” in particular, is a tangible artifact of the volatile nature of the self. In fact, “Emotion Without Language was actually a different piece up until about a week ago, when [Hilker]  took a pry bar to it and pried it apart.” Hilker “just didn’t relate to it” anymore, a simple feeling which reflects both personal changes within Hilker and the unpredictable course of the art-artist relationship. Sometimes you need to cut a piece down with a bandsaw to relate to it; Hilker’s unafraid approach to connecting with his work is central to the ideological and physical beauty of the pieces.

An artist’s body of work is an extension of their organic body. As materials become art, they are transformed, too, into the artist. Few things are more uniquely human than the ability to infuse the self into the inert, and few artists are more effective at displaying this reciprocal process than Kenneth Hilker. 

All quotes are sourced from a conversation between the author and Kenneth Hilker.