The Terrace

 By Emily Barnabas ‘26

For me, Halloween can be a time filled with fear; from ghosts and ghouls to vampires and zombies; we have all come to know these creepy creatures. In my first impression, I was also fearful of the wrathful deities on display in the exhibition Gateway to Himalayan Art, currently at the McMullen Museum. These sacred Buddhist deity illustrations and religious statues have specific mythological and visual traits. Despite their seemingly ghastly expressions, flaming hair, bulging eyes, and fangs, they instead are benevolent deities, there to protect people from their worst traits and fears. Additionally, these deities’ violent expressions signify the destruction of spiritual obstacles, military strength for domination, and the eradication of worldly dangers. So, in actuality, they are contrary to European folklore’s monsters who take center stage in American Halloween representations.

Panjarnatha Mahakala, displayed in the McMullen Museum’s Gateway to Himalayan Art exhibit, embodies many violent iconographic qualities of wrathful Buddhist deities. Indigenous to the Tibetan region, Buddhists widely refer to Panjarnatha Mahakala as an exterminator of black magic and other forms of negative energy. Panjarnatha Mahakala is named after the term “panjara,” which means having one face and two arms, and artists often depict them as very human-like and violent. As a unique protector for the Shri Hevajra cycle of Tantras, Panjarnatha Mahakala has been used as a source of protection by the Mongolians as a war standard during the time of the Yuan Dynasty, alongside many otherworldly applications. Specifically, the Shri Hevajra tantra indicates ultimate reality through imparting wisdom and means to those who follow the ritual tradition.

Highlighted by gold and fiery red pigments, Panjarnatha Mahakala appears to be seated in a royal ease stance, surrounded by a mandala of wild flames. Additionally, Panjarnatha Mahakala has bulging eyes and a toothy grin, a typical characteristic artists often use to depict wrathful deities. Other stylistic attributes include a crown of five dry human skulls, bone and snake adornments, and a ‘Ghandi’ stick held across the body. If you look closely, Panjarnatha Mahakala looks to be sitting on top of a corpse, a symbol of their power. Surrounding the central figure appear to be other wrathful deities, looking down at Panjarnatha Mahakala or towards each other.

Interestingly, Panjarnatha Mahakala’s hands are in the gesture of Tantric unity, an emblem of embrace and consort that symbolizes the unity of wisdom and method. In this sense, it becomes evident that Panjarnatha Mahakala’s wrath comes down to the purpose of guiding and defending their followers. In this sense, it is easy to cast Mahakala as a violent character at first glance. Yet, when exploring the vengeful iconographic elements of Makhala, it becomes apparent that the deity personifies nuanced benevolence. Through adornment with terrifying features, Mahakala can protect people from their worst traits and fears.  

Wrathful deities are presentations of the intersection between art and religion and fuse violent characteristics with Tantric manifestations to foster peace and control. Rivaled with classic creatures of Halloween, they are precisely the opposite. 

Sources

Geoffrey C. Goble, “Chinese and Tibetan Esoteric Buddhism, ed. by Yael Bentor and Meir Shahar (review)” Journal of Chinese Religions, 46.1 (2018), 71-73.

‌For the Hevajra Tantra, see http://www.tibetanbuddhistencyclopedia.com/en/index.php?title=Hevajra_Tantra accessed October 29, 2023.

By Megan Streeter, Class of ‘24

Few things can get me out of bed early on the weekend, but when I heard that Boston University would be hosting the Massachusetts Independent Comics Expo (MICE), I set multiple alarms. MICE has been bringing comic artists and fans together for 13 years, but this is the convention’s first meeting in person since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, as well as BU’s first time acting as host. Stepping off the T on a chilly Saturday, unneeded pointed me toward an endless stream of students, adults, and parents with children in tow towards the Thurman Center, known as the “cultural hub” of Boston University.

Over two days of operation from October 22-23, MICE artists, writers, and publishers in the independent comics world spoke on panels, and led hands-on workshops on everything from character design and lettering to printing. All sessions were free of charge, making the event economically accessible. One of the panels I attended was titled “(Not-So) Funny Animal Comics.” Tak Toyoshima moderated the panel, which hosted four contemporary comics artists whose works feature “delightful and off-beat animal stories.” The roundtable discussion began with a short history of animal characters in comics, from early 1900s newspaper strips to Art Spiegelman’s 1980 graphic novel Maus, pages of which the McMullen Museum’s American Alternative Comics exhibition currently feature. Then, as the title suggests, the panel discussed both the funny and the not-so-funny, examining animal characters in comics as vehicles both for comedy and social commentary. 

MICE’s biggest draw was, arguably, its vendor hall. The hall gives space to hundreds of independent artists with a wide range of styles, subjects, and notoriety. Boston College senior Michal Miller said of her experience at MICE: “As I walked onto the convention floor, I was initially shocked by the number of artists in attendance and even more appalled when the first person I spotted was an author I’d met years earlier (at another convention) in New York City!” 

Included in the mix was a storyboard artist from Cartoon Network’s Adventure Time, Boston University students displaying their works, and independent artists from all over the east coast. “Every single vendor there was so incredibly passionate about their work, and so much of it was incredibly strange and avant-garde and unique,” said Boston College junior Tommy Chen. The vendors sold not only comics but posters, prints, stickers, pins, even tabletop games of their own devising, and much more.While they have yet to set a date for 2023, you can learn more about MICE on their website and join their newsletter to receive updates. Can’t get enough of indie and alternative comics? Even if you missed MICE, you can still get a healthy dose of indie and alternative comics at the McMullen Museum’s American Alternative Comics exhibition, which will be open for the rest of the semester.

Dear McMullen Community,

I am beyond grateful to have served as a Student Ambassador, member of the  Education and EDIA+ (Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, and Accessibility) committees, and co-chair of the Publications Committee over the past two years. I started working during the pandemic and have had the opportunity to witness the McMullen grow and adapt to the challenges of our society, including the struggle for racial justice. Additionally, I have been able to experience several exhibits, such as Indian Ocean Current: Six Artistic Narratives and Taking Shape: Abstractions from the Arab World, 1950s – 1980s. The exhibits have introduced me to different forms of art from around the world and have made me think more critically. 

The McMullen is a place that has enriched me intellectually and personally. I have met some of the most passionate, creative, and kind people, and I am blessed to have many of them as not only colleagues but friends. In addition, I have had the opportunity to work with other McMullen Ambassadors, host workshops, and implement my own ideas through collaborations with student organizations that I belonged to, such as FACES, the anti-racism organization, and BC Bigs. From the good-humored security guards to our amazing supervisor Rachel, the McMullen has fostered a welcoming and intellectually-stimulating environment that provided me with skills that I will use in future academic and professional pursuits. 

Being a co-chair and member of the Publications Committee, the Terrace provided fellow Student Ambassadors and me with an outlet to critically analyze art, its nuances, and its role in our society. Through articles such as “Religious Art: Buddha is not Home Decor” and “Art as Resistance: Murals at the U.S. – Mexico Border,” I have recognized the role of art beyond something aesthetically pleasing and as a powerful tool for both social change and oppression. The publications team has engaged further in the idea of art as a tool of oppression through our series called “Problematic Visual Culture,” which discusses pieces of visual culture that perpetuate stereotypes and other forms of discrimination. We also ask questions about the ethics of how museums operate in the article “Museums and Ethics: A Series of Question.” I am grateful to have been a part of a platform that has encouraged critical thinking, new perspectives, and the inclusion of marginalized groups. Through the Terrace, the McMullen has been able to connect with issues facing communities beyond BC and uncover how important art is in the world.    

I will definitely be visiting the Terrace website in the future, but as a reader rather than a writer, and I am beyond excited to see the fantastic work of all the Student Ambassadors to come. Working here has been an amazing experience, and while it is sad to say goodbye, I am so excited to pass the Terrace over to the committee’s returning co-chair: Michaela Brant (‘23), and new co-chair Joy Cheng (‘23). 

Sincerely, 

Ivana Wijedasa ‘22

By Ivana Wijedasa, class of ‘22

During my senior year spring break, I visited a beach not part of a resort in Cancún filled with stressed college students in need of a vacation, but one lined by a wall – the U.S. – Mexico border wall. Although it would be my last college spring break, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to physically see the borderlands instead of solely reading about them in academic courses. Thus, I decided to spend the week on an educational trip to visit the border in San Diego and Tijuana as part of a course titled “Interdisciplinary Approaches to Borderlands and Human Mobility” taught by Professor Olayo-Méndez. The trip centered on utilizing different disciplines such as biology and theology to analyze and address issues at the border. In the case of art, the trip focused on paintings and murals, and how artists can use them as a tool of resistance against discriminatory migration policies at the border.

A place in San Diego that featured art from Chicanos—Mexican-Americans—in response to harsh migration policies and dehumanizing rhetoric towards migrants is Chicano Park. Immediately, the complexity and number of murals throughout the park overwhelmed me, and I stood in front of each mural for several minutes, admiring the mix of faces and phrases. A central theme of the murals focused on the injustice of migration policies, and I felt both sadness and frustration at the lack of humanity ascribed to migrants as I walked around the park. In the mural with many crosses, phrases such as “Love has no borders!” and “No border wall” are visible. The mural draws connections between religion and migrant rights. The presence of several crosses signifies how Christianity promotes a love for one’s neighbor, which the U.S. government obstructed with the construction of a border wall.

In another mural photographed below, one artist painted on a pier under a bridge with the phrase “La tierra es de quien la trabaja con sus propias manos,” which roughly translates as “The land belongs to those who work it with their own hands.” There are images of migrant workers in the same mural, which illustrates how jobs tilling and farming the ground in America are often done by migrants who cross the border and should be allowed to remain on the land they work. Lastly, another mural in the park pictured below contains the phrase “Ningun ser humano es ilegal,” meaning “No human being is illegal.” The mural addresses the rhetoric surrounding Hispanic migrants at the border that describes them as “illegals” to dehumanize them and justify cruel migration policies. In addition to the murals in San Diego, more paintings and murals are featured across the border in Tijuana, addressing similar issues of dehumanization and injustice.

Photo on the left from Chicano Park of a mural featuring migrant workers painted on a pier. Photo on the right of a mural from Chicano Park saying “Ningun ser humano es ilegal.”

When we crossed the border to Tijuana, the colorful and mural-filled border wall on the Tijuana side surprised me. A wall that is a barrier to pursuing a better life and is constructed from racist and nationalist ideologies has become a form of art. In addition to the murals painted on it, the location of the wall also surprised me. In the photos below, the wall sits alongside a beach, where people frequently visit to spend leisure time under the rays of the sun. The wall is part of everyday life for the people of Tijuana, who cannot escape its presence even when trying to enjoy the beach. The dehumanizing wall is covered by paintings and phrases that advocate for migrants and address the injustice of the wall’s existence. For example, in the photo below, an upside-down American flag is painted alongside the phrase “Repatriate” as a reference to the deported veterans who served in the American military. The upside-down flag represents the hypocrisy of the U.S. government that permits undocumented migrants to serve in the military but not to live in the country.

Another feature of the border wall pictured below is the blue door with the word “love” painted in yellow within a red heart. Surrounding the door are phrases such as “mural de la hermandad” or “brotherhood wall,” as well as words including “love,” “peace,” and “liberty.” The door itself, which the government rarely opens, allows families who have been torn apart by the immigration system to meet for a few minutes and for some to hug each other for the first time. The remainder of the wall meeting the ocean features portraits of deported migrants as a way to humanize and put a face to people often characterized by numbers. The border wall art and the art at Chicano Park serve as reminders of the humanity of migrants and the injustice they face due to U.S. migration policies.  

Although we often view art as a pastime or something enjoyed for leisure, art is also a powerful tool of social change. The murals at Chicano Park and on the border wall in Tijuana provide us with important examples and serve as a reminder of the humanity of migrants and the discriminatory policies that we need to combat to ensure migrants’ humanity is recognized. Art is a tool of resistance, and hopefully, more artists and people will begin to realize that.

By Michaela Brant, class of ‘23

Featured image by Éamon Laughlin, class of ’22

When awe-struck visitors and hustling students enter Gasson Hall, Boston College’s most iconic Gothic building, they pass through a rotunda adorned with oil paintings, and in the center stands a towering sculpture. St. Michael, triumphant in his struggle with Satan, raises his brass sword to smite the devil and send him to the underworld. The action-packed scene depicted by this statue would not be amiss  in a comic book. Motion is chiseled into the marble, transforming solid stone into fluid forms and lythe bodies straining against one another. The folds of Michael’s robe flowing behind him and the intricate decorations of Lucifer’s serpentine tail truly bring the marble to life. This important piece of Boston College and Gasson Hall history has a pathway that spans centuries and takes us from an artist’s studio in the heart of Rome to the parlors of Boston’s 19th-century elite, to right here in the Heights. 

Lucifer lays prone at Michael’s feet near vanquished, and he tries to raise himself upright, not yet defeated. You can almost hear Lucifer cry out a ferocious roar as he looks back at his assailant, face full of frustration and left fist clenched. He uses the other hand to steady himself as he prepares a retaliatory strike. Although a paradox, one cannot help but admire the demon for his stubbornness and refusal to stay down. The Archangel Michael stands victorious but takes no joy in his work. Their battle is not simple, but a civil war. Lucifer was once a powerful angel, and Michael casting him out represents a conflict between former allies and friends. The artist’s masterful carving inserts the emotion and gravitas of this conflict and forces the viewer to reckon with this struggle for the fate of heaven and earth. As one gazes down from the towering Michael to the foundation of the statue, the decorations forming the base are equally impressive. Three sides of the base feature intricately carved scenes of St. Michael. When he carries Moses’s body to heaven, drives away a demon from Moses’ dead body, and he meets and blesses the prophet Daniel in the Tigris River. After one stops and absorbs this majestic sight, it conjures more questions—who made this work? What inspired it? And how did it get here?

Scipione Tadolini

The iconography of St. Michael remains a constant in the Catholic tradition of statuary. It is, therefore, unsurprising that the statue’s creator, Scipione Tadolini, was commissioned to bring this favorite biblical story to life. Tadolini, a middle-class sculptor based in Rome, lived from 1822 until 1893 and came from a family of artists. His mother, Serafina Passamonti Tadolini, painted miniatures. His father, Adamo Tadolini, was also a sculptor and a favorite assistant of the great Neoclassical, Venetian-born artist Antonio Canova. Canova helped Adamo establish his own studio, where he trained his sons, and which Scipione took over upon Adamo’s death. Four generations of Tadolinis worked in this historic Rome street studio until it closed in the 1960s. The studio is now home to the Canova-Tadolini museum and café, where patrons can sip on chianti and dine on fresh-made pasta, all the while admiring beautiful marble sculptures. 

There is not much recorded information about the life of Tadolini himself, but what we have gathered focuses mainly on his art. From looking at his pieces over the years, it is clear that white marble was Tadolini’s material of choice. Tadolini studied at the Accademia in Rome and then gained recognition for his sculptures from prominent institutions in Italy and beyond. He created several portraits and ecclesiastical sculptures for Roman churches and sculpted an equestrian statue of Simon Bolivar for the city of Lima, Peru. He also was well known for his figure sculptures, and in the early 1850s, he gained notoriety for making several marble works from the same model, La schiava greca (The Greek Slave). 

The Statue’s Path

The life of Gardner Brewer, the statue’s patron, began in Boston in 1806. Brewer came to be one of the wealthiest merchants in Boston, following in the footsteps of his father, Thomas Brewer. He worked as a distiller and then became involved in the dry-goods trade, founding the house of Gardner Brewer & Co. Through this dry-goods business, Brewer accumulated a fortune estimated at several million dollars by the time of his death. With such a substantial fortune, the Brewers were eclectic collectors of art. They filled their home with American pottery, European decorative art, Etruscan gems, Japanese screens, oriental jade, and rare jewelry from France and India. The Brewer family bequeathed most of this collection of worldly art to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Additionally, shortly before Brewer passed away in 1874, he gifted a beautiful fountain to the city of Boston. The Brewer Fountain now stands in the Boston Common and has been running since June 3, 1868.

In 1865, Brewer contacted Tadolini and asked him to convert his vision of St. Michael overcoming Satan into stone. Brewer paid $28,000 for the statue and insisted that Tadolini accompany it on its journey to America. Tadolini, always a perfectionist, took four years to complete the statue, which was one of his largest and most ambitious works. In 1869, Tadolini accompanied the statue across the Atlantic to Boston, where Brewer had the statue installed in the great hall of his Beacon Street Home. The city of Boston has since torn down his house at 29 Beacon Street to build an extension of the Massachusetts State House.Unfortunately, Brewer only had five years to enjoy the statue. After Brewer’s death, the St. Michael statue passed into the hands of an art dealer. It remained in storage for many years until an anonymous benefactor purchased it for Boston College in 1909 in the name of Charles Lane, S.J., who was a prefect of the Church of Immaculate Conception and minister of Boston College High School. The acquisition was announced in April 1909, and the statue arrived at Boston College soon after.

Gasson Hall: Traditions and Contexts

Gasson Hall is both the center of and backdrop for many highlights of BC life. Several rooms in Gasson Hall bring students together for academic and extracurricular events. Gasson 305, the home of the Fulton Debate Society, is both a classroom and a mini auditorium. A list of debate winners since 1890 adorns one wall, and the spirit of both learning and performance continues outside of the classroom—the same room is the site of panel discussions and comedy shows. Closer to the St. Michael statue, Gasson 100, or “the Irish room,” hosts guest speakers, chamber music concerts, and student admissions programming.

Not only does Gasson Hall play host to a multitude of BC traditions, but the shaded Linden Lane that leads up to the hall is also one of the most Instagrammed locations in the country. Visitors and graduates pose for photographs framed by lush trees in front of the bronze eagle sculpture with Gasson’s gothic spires in the background. Students snap photos walking to and from class in sunshine and snow alike. Freshman process down Linden Lane for “first flight,” and seniors process the opposite way for commencement. Boston College students cherish Gasson Hall and the memories it gives to them. And the St. Michael statue stands just beyond the doors, a silent witness to it all. 

A Boston College Stylus article from April 1909 describes the newly acquired St. Michael statue as “a great gift to Boston College.” Since then, Boston College has undergone many changes—not the least of which are admitting women and people of color. The university continues to evolve academically, with adding an engineering department and the Schiller Institute of Integrated Science and Society, and socially, with students pushing for increased resources for marginalized communities. No matter how the school has changed, the beautiful art and architecture have made Boston College Boston College, one of the nation’s most beautiful campuses and a place that people associate with service and commitment to Jesuit values. Today, the St. Michael statue resides in a space that continues to give to Boston College students—memories, traditions, and hopefully, a place to call home. 

Acknowledgments

Thank you to all the student ambassadors at the McMullen Museum of Art who played a role in the process of writing and researching this article: Chris Rizzo, Ivana Wijedasa, Matthew DiBenedetto, Adrianna Zhao, Zoey Zheng, and Ethan Starr. Thank you also to Rachel Brody and Emily Coello for their guidance and editing.

References

The Answer Wall. “What Does the Gasson Hall Mean to BC Students?” Boston College Libraries, July 30, 2018. https://library.bc.edu/answerwall/2018/07/30/what-does-the-gasson-hall-mean-to-bc-students/. Accessed 3/7/2022.

Andreozzi, Brenna. “The Magnificent Site on Commonwealth Avenue: Father Gasson’s Bell Tower Brings Boston College to New Heights.” John J. Burns Library’s Blog, October 19, 2015. https://johnjburnslibrary.wordpress.com/2015/10/19/the-magnificent-site-on-commonwealth-avenue-father-gassons-bell-tower-brings-boston-college-to-new-heights/. Accessed 3/7/2022.

Nisbet, Gary. “Scipione Tadolini (1822-92).” Glasgow – City of Sculpture, see http://www.glasgowsculpture.com/pg_biography.php?sub=tadolini_s. Accessed 2/1/2022.

Christie’s. “The Opulent Eye – 19th Century Furniture, Sculpture, Works of Art, Ceramics & Carpets.” Live Auction 12029 [2016]. Scipione Tadolini (Italian 1822-1892/3) La schiava greca (The Greek Slave), see https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-6001605. Accessed 2/1/2022.

Richard Redding Antiques Ltd. “Sold Objects.” A Classical Statue of The Greek Slave or La schiava greca by Scipione Tadolini, Rome, dated 1860,” see https://www.richardreddingantiques.com/sold/9527/. Accessed 2/1/2022.

Willard, Ashton Rollins. History of Modern Italian Art. United Kingdom: Longmans, Green, 1900. https://www.google.com/books/edition/History_of_Modern_Italian_Art/oZdGAAAAMAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1. Accessed 3/7/2022.

“Changes Among Boston Jesuits” The Sacred Heart Review, Volume 59, Number 30. July 27, 1918. https://newspapers.bc.edu/?a=d&d=BOSTONSH19180727-01.2.11&e=——-en-20–1–txt-txIN——-. Accessed 3/7/2022.

YouFine Art and Sculpture. “Ornaments of Scipione Tadolini Outdoor Garden White Marble Life Size Statue for Sale-MOKK-231,” see https://www.cnstatue.com/ornaments-of-scipione-tadolini-outdoor-garden-white-marble-life-size-statue-for-sale-mokk-231.html. Accessed 3/7/2022.

Trainor, Tessa. “Gasson’s historical artwork under wraps.” The Heights, November 15, 2010. https://newspapers.bc.edu/?a=d&d=bcheights20101115-01.2.70&e=——-en-20–1–txt-txIN——. Accessed 3/7/2022.

Kelly, Joseph E. “A great art gift to Boston College.” The Stylus. April 1909. https://newspapers.bc.edu/?a=d&d=stylus19090401-01.2.2&e=——-en-20–1–txt-txIN——-. Accessed 3/7/2022.

As part of our initiative to be more reflective on our role in upholding systems of oppression, we have compiled a list of questions from the Student Ambassadors and McMullen Museum staff addressing the intersection between museums and ethics. There is a lively debate over the ethics of museums and the pieces that they showcase, especially in the Western world, where many objects on display were stolen during periods of colonization. Additionally, museums often charge entry fees or offer membership privileges that limit access to art to only those who can afford it. Many museums participate in perpetuating racial and class divisions, but despite this, they also can combat them. The intersection of museums and ethics is a complicated topic that we do not have all the answers to; therefore, we hope to bring attention to this issue and spark conversation by gathering questions to reflect upon and consider as workers at the McMullen Museum. We encourage you to look at our questions below and join us in our reflection on the nuanced existence and operation of museums.

Questions: 

1. How do countries that have colonized other countries deal with the return of artifacts or the politics of displaying art from the countries they colonized?
2. What sort of representation do museums engage in (i.e., artists and the subject matter of works)? What is the value of this representation?
3. Who are museums for? Is there a sort of elitism connected to museums? 
4. Should museums display works of art that are problematic? 
5. Is it ethical to have a fixed cost associated with entrance? (i.e., in London, you pay as much as you can, but in the U.S. can be upwards of $20 per person)
6. How do museums decolonize their collecting, display, curatorial, and education practices?
7. As public funding to museums decreases over time, how do museums balance the need to attract wealthy patrons with aims to make museum management more inclusive and equitable? 
8. Does the mission and priorities of an academic museum like the McMullen Museum differ from public museums like the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston?
9. Does the use of technology in exhibitions and programming encourage or hinder access?
10. Should the McMullen Museum model itself as a temple for quiet reflection and reverence of art or a forum to discuss and debate what is displayed? Can it be both?
11. Is spectacle inherent in museum exhibition practice? If so, does this compromise or hinder learning?
12. Whose stories should museums tell? Whose values should they highlight? What objects deserve attention? And who decides?
13. Do museums have a responsibility to enter the discourse on current affairs?
14. Can museums be objective in their interpretation practices?
15. What objects should be collected, and is it ever ethical to deaccession (remove from a collection to sell) objects?

Featured Image Credit: Tom Lobo-Brennan

By Amina Cassis, class of ’23

From cubism to abstract expressionism, many different art styles influenced Cuban artist Mariano Rodríguez as he traveled widely in his lifetime. Unfortunately, however, here in the United States, our exposure to his work has been limited due to challenging political relations with Cuba. Luckily, for those who would like the opportunity to view his artwork, our current exhibition at the McMullen Mariano: Variations on a Theme | Variaciones sobre un tema, features many of his impressive paintings and drawings.

In honor and keeping with the Halloween season, it seems fitting to consider his Baroque Grotesque work from the 1960s. His painting “Mozambique” is typical of this style; it invokes a sense of mystery, darkness, and strangeness. The grotesque art form often involves the mixing of animal, human, and plant forms. The subject in this painting appears half-human and half-animal (dog? fox?). The creature’s facial expression is one of intensity and intelligence. We can see the human images of a face and hand behind the orange creature. The vivid Halloween orange is juxtaposed with the somber charcoal background, which grounds and locks in our attention. The creature is not frightening but somewhat mysterious and fantastic. Great art is meant to invoke a human response, and with this painting, our response and interpretation are highly personal. This painting easily grabs the viewers’ attention, and one’s reaction is influenced by his or her own imagination and sensibilities.

Artist Francis Bacon may have been a contemporary artist who influenced Mariano’s grotesque period. One work in particular by Bacon, the Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion, embodies the grotesque art form. He created this painting in 1944, following one of the most devastating years during WWII. He painted a horrific triptych of anthropomorphic, disembodied, faceless creatures writhing in agony. Bacon’s images go beyond the historical and religious significance of the Crucifixion; his images symbolize extreme universal human suffering. He evokes images of the brutality of the slaughterhouse and death. We can see slabs of meat in the left panel and the butchered carcass of an animal in the right panel. The bloody man in the center panel further depicts the inevitability of death. Bacon’s work is dark, disturbing, and filled with despair. The grotesque art form presents freakish images that often disgust, frighten, and confuse us. We can’t relate what we see to standards of normalcy. However off-putting a painting is visually, many are still drawn to it, perhaps because of the visceral emotion it evokes. We all struggle with the concept of beauty and perfection. Grotesque art must appeal to that part of our psyche that recognizes the truth of human imperfection.

Pablo Picasso also explored universal human suffering in his painting, The Woman Weeping. This painting is part of a series that expressed Picasso’s distress over the Spanish Civil War. The image evokes the Mater Dolorosa, the weeping Virgin, a traditional image in Spanish art, often represented by graphic presentations of tears and pain. His model for this painting was his mistress, and it symbolized the grief experienced by mothers and sisters following the death of loved ones in wartime. When asked about this painting, Picasso said, “women are suffering machines.” The fragmented features and the use of acid green and purple heighten the emotional intensity of the painting. It has become a visual representation of the tragedies of war, an anti-war symbol, and an embodiment of desire for peace.

The Garden of Earthly Delights, painted by Hieronymous Bosch, is yet another triptych and example of the grotesque and fantastical. This series of painted oak panels represents a sequential narrative of man’s fall from grace. The left panel shows God presenting Eve to Adam in this initial state of innocence, surrounded by exotic and grotesque animals. The center panel depicts a panorama of male and female naked forms engaged in all types of lustful and creative sexual abandon. Fantastical creatures, real animals, and engorged fruits all take part in the carnal celebration. Finally, the right panel illustrates Hell as the ultimate punishment for man’s carnal sins. The setting is a dark night devoid of natural beauty. The figures are brutalized and tortured in retribution for their failings. 

Finally, we can’t let Halloween go by without mentioning the artist James Ensor and his famous painting entitled Skeletons Fighting over a Hanged Man. He utilized the grotesque art form to depict two skeletons fighting over a dead body on the floor and the dead man hanging between them labeled ‘civet’ (hare stew). Ensor creates humor and the macabre by depicting the skeletons in masks and women’s clothing; their weapons are a broom and umbrella. The scene is twisted, full of aggressive imagery and sarcasm. Art critics offer two main interpretations of this work. Some say that the two skeletons represent the artist’s wife and mistress fighting over him. Other critics support the view that the skeletons represent his critics, and he is the powerless prize, and the people waiting in the wings are his divided fan base. Interpretations aside, the mood is dark and disillusioned and seems to comment on the absurdity of life. Ensor did not see ‘art’ as pretty decoration but rather as a means to explore the ugliness of the human condition. 

The grotesque presents the opportunity for artists to push the limits of what society deems acceptable by placing on display and exploring dark subject matters that make us uncomfortable. From different artists and vastly different periods, all these paintings are perfect accompaniments to the spirit, mystery, and spookiness of the Halloween season.

By Amina Cassis, class of ’23

The Met Gala 2021, “fashion’s biggest night out,” was held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on September 13th. The museum usually holds this fundraising event in May, but with Covid-19  looming last spring, they decided to delay the event. The guest list included celebrities, fashion icons, and new designers who agreed to the vaccine mandate. Some of the impressive star-studded guests strolling down the red carpet were Rihanna, Kendall Jenner, Gigi Hadid, and Simone Biles. The co-chairs of the 2021 Met Gala included Billie Eilish, Timothée Chalamet, Naomi Osaka, and Amanda Gorman. The Costume Institute’s theme for Part One of the exhibit is “In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,” and the goal was to establish a modern vocabulary of American fashion based on its expressive qualities. Part Two will open on May 5, 2022 with the theme “In America: An Anthology of Fashion.”

The curated fashion displays for this year’s event were organized around a patchwork quilt, begun in 1856, and housed in the Met’s American Wing. This quilt served as a metaphor for the United States and its varied cultural identities. The museum invited guests to present themselves in original fashion which would reflect this metaphor. It is not surprising that several guests used fashion to express political statements. Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC) wore a white gown with the message, “Tax the Rich,” in bold, red lettering emblazoned across her back. Aurora James designed the gown and is also the founder of the 15% Pledge, which asks major retailers to devote at least 15% of their shelf space to Black-owned businesses in order to achieve economic justice. Sephora, West Elm, and Vogue have agreed to partake in this pledge. On the red carpet, Congresswomen Ocasio-Cortez happily reported that as of present, consumers had directed  $10 billion dollars towards Black businesses. Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney wore a gown in the suffragette colors of green, white, and violet with a train printed with the words, “Equal Rights for Women.” She carried a clutch bearing the letters ERA, reflecting the equal rights amendment.

Cara Delevigne wore a shirt with the message “Peg the Patriarchy” to express her desire for women’s empowerment and gender equality. Billie Eilish wore an Oscar de la Renta gown, reminiscent of the glamour of Marilyn Monroe, on the stipulation that the fashion house terminate all fur sales. Megan Rapinoe, the soccer olympian, wore a bright red pantsuit and a royal blue shirt with silver stars. Her bag read “In Gay We Trust.” Another new face brought Indigenous representation at her first Met Gala invitation. Quannah Chasinghorse is a 19 year-old model of Han Gwich’in and Oglala Lakota ancestry that recently took the modeling industry by storm after her first New York Fashion Week. Chasinghorse, an Alaskan activist, proudly reclaimed her culture and represented her Indigenous pride wearing a dress designed by Peter Dundas, who made sure that her heritage was accurately captured. 

Amid all the glitz and glamour inside the Met, a far greater political drama was occurring outside its steps. A Black Lives Matter protest was in full swing; reporters described it as an “autonomous group of NYC abolitionists who believe that policing does not protect and serve communities.” The protesters were incensed that state funds allocated $11 billion in resources to the NYPD and that Mayor Bill de Blasio attended the gala. De Blasio has enabled abuse from the NYPD, especially with how he handled the death of Eric Garner at the hands of the police. They called for police accountability and that this money should go to Black and brown communities in need of support. 

The aftermath of the George Floyd protests sparked hope for a long awaited progressive change in the justice system and in the police force nationwide, but many politicians have already disregarded these calls for action. The media also gave minimal coverage to the fact that many were tackled, zip-tied, and arrested during these protests. Protestors should have the right to express their First Amendment rights without being brutalized by police officers, which is, ironically, the very system they are trying to protest against. Some protesters felt that resuming the Gala did not indicate a move to normalcy, but rather, a willingness to overlook inequality. For them, the Gala was not a celebration; it merely represented a party for the privileged who were all too willing to ignore the call for social justice right outside. Many influential people and politicians were able to show their form of protest for other issues in America. However, there needs to be an actual initiative for these problems without the performative flair, and that starts with giving adequate attention and support for these important causes.

Welcome back to the McMullen Museum and The Terrace! As the co-chairs of the Publications Committee, we want to extend a warm welcome to our visitors and readership. This year, we are excited to be open to the public again with a few protocols in place, such as a mask mandate regardless of vaccination status. However, you no longer have to make appointments when visiting the museum, so we hope to see you soon, checking out our fantastic exhibit or studying on the terrace! 

Our exhibit through December is Mariano: Variations on a Theme | Variaciones sobre un tema which features the Cuban artist Mariano Rodríguez. Mariano, a modernist painter, references Cuban national identity in his work, sometimes symbolized by el gallo (rooster), and draws connections between abstraction and reality. He went through several changes in style throughout his career, as seen in the paintings and drawings in our galleries. In addition, many of his works exhibited here are on display for the first time in the United States.

During the 2020-2021 school year, The Terrace began to focus more on art as it relates to social issues—how does art perpetuate systems of oppression? How does art fit into our world, and vice versa? As a result, we began a series called ‘Problematic Visual Culture,’ which specifically aims to address these questions.  

As editors of The Terrace, our utmost goal is to craft and publish engaging articles for and about our community, whether it be the McMullen Museum, Boston College, or Greater Boston. We will continue our commitment to using our experiences with art to spotlight social justice issues and amplify marginalized voices. Additionally, we welcome submissions from all students across campus, which can be arranged by contacting Rachel Chamberlain. We hope that our readers feel a little closer to the McMullen and to each other through the process of reading our content.

We are excited to present numerous upcoming events at the museum, some virtual and some in person. Our own Museum Student Ambassadors will be hosting our popular “Into the Collection” series on October 25th, featuring the art of Roberto Estopiñán. The presentation will be virtual, but the works discussed will be on display in the museum the following day, October 26. There are numerous other upcoming events as well. For a full calendar, click here. If you have any questions or are interested in working with the McMullen Museum on events or projects, contact Rachel Chamberlain at rachel.chamberlain@bc.edu. 

We thank you for being readers of The Terrace and for being part of The McMullen community.

Sincerely,
Ivana Wijedasa, ‘22, and Michaela Brant, ‘23

Dear McMullen Community, 

The past two years as Student Ambassadors and co-chairs of the Publications Committee have been incredible. We’ve had the opportunity to see several exhibits come and go, meet wonderful friends, and acquire knowledge and skills that will serve us throughout our academic and professional futures. We’ve been able to engage with art and helped continue to cultivate an atmosphere of curiosity and inclusion, encouraging our visitors to question their perspectives and open themselves to new points of view. We have published a wide array of articles during our tenure as co-editors and put together a series of works, such as our Problematic Visual Cultural series that focuses on the unjust systems at work behind the art and media we enjoy.

We’ve been exposed to parts of the world that we never knew existed, further expanding our world views and getting to marvel and appreciate extremely diverse works of art. We’ve written and read content about a wide range of topics and shared them with you, such as titles like “Orientalism and Expedition Photography,” “The Art of Food,” and “Fashion, Art, and Social Justice Podcast.” 

During the past academic year, the McMullen Museum has given greater attention to the role that diversity, equity, and inclusion play in institutions like museums and universities. In addition to the McMullen’s new EDI committee, we at The Terrace have been making sure that we use our platform for good, spreading information and awareness on topics we care about. The Terrace has always been committed to being a place where students’ voices can be amplified and heard by the community. We will continue to commit ourselves to further social justice and calling out and addressing injustices we experience, either here on-campus or beyond. We hope that new ventures, including the podcasts and the Problematic Visual pieces series, continue to shed light on unique perspectives of art and raise awareness of ongoing dissonances between the world and its artistic styles.

 Working here has been an invaluable experience, and while it’s sad to say goodbye, we’re so excited to pass the Terrace onto the committee’s new co-chairs: Ivana Wijedasa (‘22) and Michaela Brant (‘23). 

Sincerely, 

Alex Hull and Arvin Mohapatra

McMullen Student Ambassador Sunny Lee reflects on the meaning of artist Nyeema Morgan’s work during a CURRENTS Presents virtual lecture.

On February 18th, 2021, Boston College’s Art, Art History, and Film Department welcomed American interdisciplinary and conceptual artist Nyeema Morgan to share the thoughts and meanings behind her work during a CURRENTS Presents virtual lecture. 

Although Morgan works with sculpting and print-based works, she mainly identifies as a drawer. The Chicago based artist defines drawing as the delineation of space. When Morgan looks at the world, instead of spaces, she sees distinct edges, contours, and lines. She shares that this is her way of organizing and perceiving information. Her creative process begins with using observations of the world and questions that help her brainstorm meaning, prompting her to make diverse artworks. 

One of the works she shared is Forty-Seven Easy Poundcakes Like Grandma Use To Make. Morgan began this series during her time as a graduate student at California College of Arts in 2007 and completed it in 2012. This series consists of forty-six pound cake recipes, including her grandmother’s, typed up and drawn over with lines. The lines negate certain parts of the recipes in what she described as a “rule-based process.” Each drawing took her around six to seven hours to create. Her observation that inspired this creation is that her grandmother’s “easy pound cake is the quintessential pound cake. All others are of a lesser quality.” This observation led her to inquire how our lives mold our understanding of the world and the extent to which one thing can change before it becomes classified as another. 

In Morgan’s most recent show, THE STEM. THE FLOWER. THE ROOT. THE SEED, she presents works that examine power dynamics, specifically the relationship between gender and identity. Morgan began her creative process with the observation that women’s right to vote, as a result of the suffrage movement, did not secure the right for all women. She thus asked herself “how do I make a work that embodies offense and defense,” and “how do I implicate the viewer?” The result is her sculpture installation, The Flower (No. 4), where sculpted hands protrude from the museum’s wall holding staffs. The pieces are positioned in an arc to make the viewer feel surrounded. Morgan’s intention is for the viewer to take an identical newsprint sheet which is draped on each staff. Printed on each sheet are stories of women, both fictional and nonfictional, concerned with how the lives of BIPOC and queer women vary from mainstream perceptions of women. The majority of the stories are contrived from Morgan’s own memory. 

In Morgan’s career, she has found herself contemplating her role as an artist, specifically what she wants from her art and the art world. She ponders her place in art history as a Black female artist and how her contributions are rewarded or not rewarded in the field. To learn more about Morgan and her art, you can check out the CURRENTS Presents: Nyeema Morgan recording on the McMullen Museum’s YouTube channel or visit her website at https://www.nyeemamorgan.com/.

By Nisha Momin’21 and Sofia Yepes’21 

This past spring, during another mundane day in quarantine, we were left longing for the days of study abroad in Cape Town and Madrid–full of great food, great art, and great fashion. Nostalgic for these experiences, we hopped on a call, and together, we started a podcast that would allow us to discover all the world’s creativity without stepping foot outside. We called this podcast My Brother’s Friend, which represents how random mutual relationships are the primary way people discover new brands, music, restaurants, and artists. 

The original aim of My Brother’s Friend was to show how culture infiltrates fashion, and how different brands reflect their community. Our first guest, Loyiso Ndlondo from Cape Town, explained that their resourceful youth rely on thrifting and re-purposing to express themselves. Our second guest, Rafhael Castro from Brazil, talked about how his brand ZYPER combines colors of the 90s tech boom with the playfulness of Brazilian beaches. Our third guest, Mariia Melnykk from Ukraine, gave us insight into the emerging post-Soviet Union fashion industry. 

As our network continued to grow, our conversations evolved. We became more comfortable speaking about the intersectionality of politics and art, and how fashion can be a tool for social justice. Meera Albaba, a Palestinian fashion designer, uses her work as a designer and entrepreneur to reclaim the artistic liberty of Palestinians living under siege in Gaza. Anwar Bougroug, owner of the fashion label, Bougroug, is paving the way for Moroccan youth to transcend traditional gender norms.  

Not only do Anwar and Meera use their work to depict progressive images and styles artistically, but their impact is crucial to their communities as well. For example, Anwar designs his clothing to be genderless, drawing attention to the taboo concept of gender in the MENA region. His brand further evokes change in the community by relying on the work of Moroccan artisans, restoring quality craftsmanship to an industry that notoriously capitalizes on cheap labor and environmental destruction. In our interview, Anwar explains how these artisans are an integral part of the design process. He says, “I’ve learned that the artisans are also designers. They are creative people, and you can’t just see them as manufacturers. They help me improve the product by working with the fabrics and details.” To produce ethically or unethically is out of the question for Anwar. He makes an active choice to preserve the environment, pay fair wages, and produce art in a sustainable way. Bougroug is just one example of how an artist can use their craft to evoke cultural and economic change.

For Meera, fashion is more than the clothes we wear on our backs. Fashion is a form of art, and art is a fundamental right that Palestinians have had to forgo while living under siege. They are living with limited resources and mobility and experience bouts of extreme violence daily. Meera explained that art is the last thing that anyone can think about when living under these conditions. The Palestinian youth are being deprived of concerts, museums, and other forms of creative consumption that many of us take for granted. By proving her resilience, dedication, and passion for creating clothing through her brand, MEERA ADNAN, she is reclaiming her artistic narrative and her right to creative expression. With all odds stacked against her and her success as an entrepreneur, the existence of Meera’s company is a form of protest in and of itself. Maintaining her brand has not been easy, as her production facilities are in Jordan, and amidst the pandemic, she’s faced even tighter restrictions. Nevertheless, she has persevered. 

We share with you the account of Anwar and Meera so that together we can may look at fashion as a form of art, and as a form of art with a vast reach politically, culturally, and economically. If you are interested in hearing Anwar and Meera’s story firsthand, check out My Brother’s Friend, available on all major streaming platforms. 

Links: 

Meera’s Brand: https://meeraadnan.com/

Anwar’s Brand: https://www.bougroug.com/

My Brother’s Friend: https://anchor.fm/mybrothersfriend

Our instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mybrothersfriend/

McMullen Student Ambassador Dana Connolly reflects on Professor Jorgensen’s interactions with the museum to fuel his creative endeavors in the classroom.

Professor Luke Jorgensen, BC ‘91, whether demonstrating children’s improvisation exercises, sharing anecdotes from his twenty-five years of experience on and off the stage, or declaiming “MORE THEATRE!” between student performances, throws every item in his theatrical bag of tricks to create electrifying drama classes. Once a year, he plans a field trip for his Creative Dramatics classes to the McMullen Museum for a change of scenery. 

While the quiet, reflective McMullen Museum hardly seems like a suitable venue to capture theatrical lightning in a bottle, Jorgensen has integrated museum education into his classes for years, each time beginning anew with the McMullen’s changing exhibitions. This Fall, the McMullen Museum reopened Indian Ocean Current: Six Artistic Narratives, a multifaceted exhibition of videos, collages, paintings, sculptures, interactive installations, and photographs by contemporary artists whose work reflects the changing landscape of the Indian Ocean and surrounding geography. 

After the abrupt transition to remote learning last Spring, Jorgensen was eager to bring his classes back to the McMullen to explore the exhibit. For this visit, he brought a class to Indian Ocean Current to demonstrate creative dramatics. For the unfamiliar, creative dramatics is “an improvisational, non-exhibitional, process-centered form of drama in which participants are guided by a leader to imagine, enact, and reflect upon human experience.”¹ Using creative drama exercises, students create new works, entirely without scripts or cues, using only the exhibition and their imaginations. 

From a kindergarten classroom to upper-level theatre courses at Boston College, creative dramatics empowers young people to take risks, devise new theatrical experiences, and develop their artistic eye through recreating for the stage their shared human experiences. At the museum, the vocabulary of a creative dramatics work is less explicit; Jorgensen loves to teach what he calls “happenings,” a short written, devised, or performed piece written collaboratively by a class of drama students. For Indian Ocean Current, Jorgensen let his class loose in the museum. He tasked them with collectively writing short stories—thirteen stories for thirteen students—in response to pieces from the exhibition that created vivid mental images and stories, the kindling of creative dramatics work to come.  

Jorgensen loves the chain reaction effect of devised theatre pieces like these. In his words, devised theatre captures the “immediate reaction to a piece of art,” empowering the actor to build upon the original work in a collaborative process. Students react to a piece in the museum and use their classmates’ reactions to spark new ideas, reopening the stories behind Indian Ocean Current and continuing them through live performance. During his class, students in Jorgensen’s class used Wangechi Mutu’s digital piece, Amazing Grace, to collaboratively write a story about live zoo animals inexplicably washing up on the shore of a small coastal town.

Jorgensen’s dream for collaboration between the Boston College Theatre Department and the McMullen Museum is something to behold: a (socially distanced) site-specific devised theatre piece accompanied by student musicians and performed throughout the McMullen galleries. Actors and audience members could move freely through different spaces, encounter new scenes and “happenings.” Luke’s description echoes the inventive Macbeth adaptation, Sleep No More, which premiered in nearby Brookline at the abandoned Old Lincoln School. The immersive experience of site-specific theatre creates exciting and authentic dramatic experiences. 

Though the future of live theatre is uncertain, Luke Jorgensen has high hopes for the theatre students and faculty at Boston College. For now, he’ll happily keep the ghost light lit until all audiences can return to the theater.

Sources Cited:

 ¹ Davis, Jed H., and Tom Behm. 1978. Terminology of drama/theatre with and for children: A redefinition. Children’s Theatre Review XXVII (1): 10-11. 

by Alex Hull

COVID has made it difficult for people to go out and view art, either at museums, through travel, or gatherings with others.  However, during and after quarantine, most of us have taken to watching more movies than we have ever before (I have, anyway).  Here are four films that explore art, artists, and art history that I think are worth watching.

The Painter and the Thief (2020) dir. Benjamin Ree

Image courtesy: rogererbert.com

The Painter and the Thief is a film about an unlikely friendship that begins between a young Czech artist, Barbora Kysilkova, and Karl Bertil-Nordland, a criminal.  When one of Barbora’s paintings is stolen from a gallery, she decides to track down the thief and meets Bertil, the man who stole her painting.  She asks if she can paint his portrait and the finished product changes Bertil’s life from the moment he sees it.  This story is rich with emotion and tension, asking viewers to question art’s value to its viewers, respective artists, and who they dedicate their art to.  This film reveals the more painful sides of the artistic process and the formation of ideas, and the real power that art can have over its viewers.  I wanted to watch this whole film over again immediately once the credits rolled.  Available on Hulu.

Loving Vincent (2017) dir. Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman

This movie submerges you within the mystery surrounding Vincent Van Gogh’s death and one man’s obsession in uncovering the truth.  The story is arranged in a series of meetings with several characters who provide pieces of information about Vincent, which sometimes causes the film to feel slow at times.  However, the animation style, which imitates that of Van Gogh’s paintings, makes the film captivating.  125 painters from around the world worked on painting over the original live-action footage which gives the scenes a unique sense of animated movement.  I appreciated Loving Vincent because it shows how classical methods such as painting can be transformed in unexpected and beautiful ways using modern media like film.  Available on Hulu.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma

Commissioned in secret, a young painter named Marianne heads to an isolated island to paint Héloïse, a stubborn bride who has refused to pose for her wedding portrait.  The two fall in love as they await Héloïse’s dreaded wedding day.  The film focuses on painting as an act of intimacy and as an instrument of memory.  Art works in the background of this heart-wrenching and impossible love story between two women.  The film asks what it means to hold an authentic image of someone in their mind, as painting becomes a vital, rebellious, and secretive act. Art becomes critical in this story, and the only way Marienne can hold on to Héloïse.  Available on Hulu.

Beyond the Visible––Hilma af Klint (2020) dir. Halina Dyrschka

Beyond the Visible is a documentary about the Swedish artist Hilma af Klint (1862-1944), a modernist painter, virtually unknown during her time, who has had a considerable impact on the art world.  Many of her paintings were far ahead of her time, and as specified in her will, none would be shown until twenty years after her death.  Her style includes vibrant colors and often engages elements of geometry.  This documentary looks at her work and personal life, highlighting her interest in science and spiritualism.  I had never heard of Hilma af Klint before, but after watching this documentary, I have found a new favorite artist. Available on Amazon Prime.

Since the killing of George Floyd and the following national reckoning for racial justice, institutions of all kinds have raised their standards. Many of these institutions, including museums, have been working in recent years towards inclusivity. The racial violence that occurred over the summer made it clear that these institutions need to take more direct and visible actions towards equality. The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston has risen to the occasion by pushing toward “a more inclusive MFA,” as stated on their website.¹

The MFA’s commitment to inclusivity reaches back almost a year before the murder of George Floyd, to May 2019. A group of middle schoolers and chaperones from the Helen Y. Davis Leadership Academy visited the museum and filed a complaint. While visiting the museum, they encountered racism and verbal abuse from staff and visitors. In response, the MFA instituted unconscious bias and conflict resolution training with its staff, barred two visitors from the museum, and organized meetings with students and staff from the Davis Leadership Academy.

Since that incident, the MFA has shown a strong commitment to making the museum more welcoming and inclusive. In July 2019, the museum announced that they would be hosting four paid teen scholars from Boston to “build curatorial skills, enabling the interns to develop the themes of their exhibition, select and study the works of art, and collaborate on the design, interpretation, and programming.” In September, nearly four months after the Davis Leadership Academy visit, the museum rolled out an extensive plan to improve the school group experience and create “an environment where all young people trust that they will feel safe and celebrated.” The updates position students and teachers as participants rather than visitors and provide school groups with resources and designated staff to make their visit more welcoming and rewarding.

At the close of 2019, the MFA announced a new position within their Division of Learning and Community Engagement: the Senior Director of Belonging and Inclusion. Along with making the MFA more inclusive for all, the position included reaching out and deepening connections with the museum’s current audiences, as well as “diverse yet historically underrepresented audiences.” Over the summer of 2020, Rosa Rodriguez-Williams was appointed as Senior Director of Belonging and Inclusion, with a start date of September 9, 2020. Ms. Rodriguez-Williams received a  M.A, in social work from Boston College.

On June 1, in response to George Floyd’s murder, the MFA released a public message of support. In the rest of its summer update, the museum also outlined its resolve to examine its internal policies and culture, engage a diversity consultant to evaluate the museum, and institute paid college internships to diversify the museum field. The update also contained a nod to Ms. Rodriguez-Williams, stating that her work will “play a critical role in delivering on the MFA’s promise to be a Museum for all of Boston.” In an email to The Terrace, Rodriguez-Williams said she plans to “prioritize the visitor’s experience to foster belonging and be a Museum where everyone who walks through our doors feels seen, valued and respected.”

Rodriguez-Williams also attributed her “desire to lead within organizations” to her experience as a student here at Boston College. She described her time at BC as a formative period responsible for “laying [the] groundwork that set me up for success and my heart for inclusion.” She is grateful for her time at the Boston College School of Social Work, where she “matured personally and evolved professionally as a social worker.” For Rodriguez-Williams, “Impacting the world, through my work with organizations and the people in them is not only an honor but a privilege.”

The MFA’s recognition of its own shortcomings, its efforts to be better in the future, and its specific action items are commendable. Institutional racism exists in every facet of life, and therefore needs to be dismantled on each of those levels. The MFA is committed in the fight against racism and should serve as an inspiration and example to the broader community. The fight for racial justice is ongoing, but actions like these taken by the MFA get us closer to our ultimate goals of equality and inclusion. 

¹ “Toward a More Inclusive MFA” Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. https://www.mfa.org/about/toward-a-more-inclusive-mfa 

Student Ambassador Ivana Wijedasa reflects on her time in Madrid, Spain and speaks about the effects of street art on communities.

My eyes fixated on a large mural depicting bright rainbow colors and the head of a monkey with the illusion of being 3-Dimensional. The mural painted against the building’s wall, whose original purpose, beyond displaying this work of art, is unknown. The colorful mural is hard to miss amongst a street filled with monotonous gray and red brick buildings. Street Art has become increasingly popular over time and was originally a form of social and political commentary through graffiti and murals. In Spain, “political street art has a long history as a communication tool in times of political changes.”¹ During the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s, Pablo Picasso painted the Guernica. This mural has become one of the most popular examples of artwork portraying a political message as it criticizes war and the leadership of Franco.² In the present day, street art and murals continue to convey political messages. Catalonians in Northern Spain have used graffiti to write words such as “Libertad”or “Freedom” on buildings to reiterate their calls for independence.³ However, street art has also veered towards becoming a tool for gentrification as developers commission murals and paintings to beautify neighborhoods and enhance their physical appeal.⁴ 

The beauty of street art is unquestionable. It draws people’s attention and can transform a dull, grey, impoverished community into a bustling, bright tourist attraction. However, with the increasing popularity of beautiful street art comes the pain and possibility of gentrification. 

In the summer of 2019, I studied abroad in Madrid, and took a course entitled “Spanish Art History: From Al-Andalus to Picasso.” As a part of our class, we took a street art tour in the neighborhood of Lavapiés.  Lavapiés is a diverse community which is home to the Spanish working class and immigrants from South America, the Middle East, and various other regions. The population of Lavapiés consists of a large portion of immigrants and elderly people who are from lower-income backgrounds.⁵ As a result, the infrastructure of the neighborhood has typically been neglected by property owners, resulting in low quality housing. As a way to improve the physical appearance of this underserved community, developers contracted artists to paint murals on the deteriorating buildings. When we walked down the neighborhood streets, we were in awe of the unusual designs and figures painted throughout the town. Occasionally, we would stop and admire the art while the tour guide gave us an interpretation of what the artwork was supposed to mean or a little background on the artist. While stopped by one mural, a lady passing by on her bike came to a halt as she saw us, a group of 20 students, touring her neighborhood. I cannot recall the exact words the lady told us as she spoke in Spanish, but my professor later explained that her words consisted of complaints about us touring her neighborhood. She professed her concern of not being able to live there anymore as housing prices were increasing due to people like us touring her hometown to see the street art.    

The increase in housing prices that this lady was experiencing was due to gentrification caused by the addition of beautiful street art to her low-income neighborhood. According to the Urban Displacement Project, gentrification is defined as “a process of neighborhood change that includes economic change in a historically disinvested neighborhood —by means of real estate investment and new higher-income residents moving in – as well as demographic change.”⁶  Developers commission artists to create murals on the sides of buildings to reel in upper-class white adults.⁷ In this case, the investment in street art for Lavapiés had contributed to economic changes in the neighborhood by attracting higher-income residents to a typically lower-income area.  Resulting in rising house prices and potential displacement of former residents who can no longer afford to live there.

The use of street art as a means of gentrification is not unique to a small neighborhood in Spain, but happens around the world, including in our very own city of Boston. Areas such as Dorchester, Roxbury, and South Boston are among those that have gentrified partly due to the presence of street art.⁸ Now, as you admire beautiful street art, it is also important to recognize its contribution to gentrification and the pain of its beauty. Perhaps, new forms of policy need to emerge to prevent art from becoming a tool of displacement. 

McMullen Student Ambassador Arvin Mohapatra, MCAS 2021, reflects on his trip to India over the winter break.

It’s funny how the most unconventional encounters can lead to some of the most meaningful revelations. Behind the scenes, the dynamic duo that is Art and History has been weaving its way to the forefront of contemporary visionaries. Their deeply rooted stories and traditions provide us with some of the strongest foundations imaginable to build modern, more progressive ideologies that are symbolized and expressed through contemporary works of art and literature. When I first learned of the unveiling of the McMullen’s Museum’s Indian Ocean Current exhibit last winter, my first thoughts were, “Finally.”

Why, “Finally,” you may ask? Over the winter break, I traveled to India, specifically to the states of Odisha and Rajasthan, not only to visit family, but to also immerse myself in the country’s profound, yet often understated stories regarding the effects of decolonization on some of the grandest landmarks of India’s rich history. A concept that is highlighted throughout the exhibit. One of these landmarks was the Amer Fort in Rajasthan. 

Built in 1592 by Raja Man Singh, the fort’s purpose was to house the Rajput Maharajas (the rulers of the state). It was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2013 in order to preserve the remnants of the historically significant fort. 

The developing resurgence of previously colonized countries, like India, had surprisingly masked the significance of ancient markers, including the Amer Fort. For years after decolonization, the fort was cast aside like an old remnant of the past, only to be “rediscovered” relatively recently as a significant feature of India’s ancient, and impactful history.

The exhibit bridges a gap between the sites of decolonization and those who are interested in the seldom-told stories of the phenomenon. The Amer Fort is one of many landmarks that underwent a similar journey, and to see that connection from the Indian state of Rajasthan all the way to our McMullen Museum is nothing short of a miracle. 

Sources Cited:

“Amber Fort Jaipur – History, Architecture, Visit Timings & Facts.” Jaipur – History, Architecture, Visit Timings & Facts, Cultural India, http://www.culturalindia.net/indian-forts/amber-fort.html.

By Kevin Deng

I’m not from anywhere particularly extraordinary, which is probably why it was such a disappointment to both me and my high school friends when the burger shop in town, “our spot,” shut down for good. And when you’re at a lack of much else to do in the vicinity, you start to reflect—there are many different signs that change has become inescapable, but the first is when the burger joints start closing. The expectation for a given burger place is that it’s a local staple, existing second in permanence only to, perhaps, the discount liquor stores. I mean to say: where there are burgers, presumably there are people, and where there are people, the burgers aren’t far. That’s why it didn’t make sense in my head that the place was gone.

If I were to be as objective as possible, I’d say the truth is the burgers weren’t that good. The place prided itself on its long menu, which really just consisted of different subsets of the same, (only slightly) larger set of interesting (yet standard, for a burger restaurant) ingredients. All this was to distract from the fact that, if you were to look down at what you were actually eating, it was really just an overcooked piece of meat between an admittedly decent bun, with some assortment of canned or previously-frozen ingredients serving as cheap visual stimuli. Not to mention the glaring inequity that is the number of sandwiches on the menu versus the number of people that actually came in during a given dinner rush.

I guess I’m not really sure how that became “our spot.” Maybe nobody was willing to admit that they’d prefer another spot in town. Or maybe it’s a result of something that I’ve been thinking about lately: that there’s a very human tendency to ascribe meaning and sentimentality wherever we go—we care because we care because we care. And we don’t always know why, but it just feels right to do so (see: birthdays). Anyway, it wasn’t about the burgers.

Look. If there’s a point to the 400 words I’ve allotted myself, it’s this: I don’t know of any new burger joints popping up around town, but maybe some aspiring restaurant owner will decide to set up in the vacancy left by the burger shop, and give some other customer something worth reflecting on somewhere down the line.

By Annabel Steele

Carrie Mae Weems’s Strategies of Engagement has evoked all sorts of emotions from McMullen Museum visitors this semester—but perhaps no part of the exhibition is quite as captivating as “Lincoln, Lonnie and Me,” the Pepper’s Ghost installation on the second floor Daley gallery.

In order to reach the installation, visitors must duck around a curtain and enter a small space similar to a theater. Inside the theater, “Lincoln, Lonnie and Me” plays on a loop, but not on a video screen. Instead, it makes use of the Pepper’s Ghost effect, creating what appears to be holograms out of thin air.

In “Lincoln, Lonnie and Me,” Weems introduces a number of characters, including everything from Abraham Lincoln to a boxer, who discuss things like revenge, change and persistence. Weems has said that “Lincoln, Lonnie and Me” is intended to function as a quasi-history of segregation.

But how exactly does Weems create the Pepper’s Ghost effect? It is actually simpler than one might expect. It involves inserting a pane of clear glass at an angle into the stage area. People looking into the stage area don’t see the glass, but it helps create the hologram effect. Meanwhile, everything else in the theater is completely real. There is no video screen, just the curtains and the hologram created by the Pepper’s Ghost effect.

The Pepper’s Ghost effect was first theorized as far back as 16th century. It became widely known in the nineteenth century, and earned its name after the English scientist John Pepper helped popularize it in theater productions.

Nowadays, people can see the Pepper’s Ghost effect at everywhere from DisneyLand to music festivals and, of course, the McMullen Museum.

By Naya Joseph

This past August, I took my first-ever solo trip to Montréal for five days. I did not know what to expect; those whom I knew spoke highly of its rich, French culture—“Like a slice of Europe in North America,” one said. What I found was a city rich with culture—cuisine, visual art, music, and dance.

Every day, I spent a little bit of time riding the metro to Place des Arts. An initiative started by Mayor Jean Drapeau, Place des Arts is a cultural and artistic playground—the largest in Canada. Sides of buildings covered in large murals, home to the Musée d’Art Contemporain and six performance halls, and a shopping mall featuring live musical performances and a daily light show in the water fountain—Place des Arts was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Immediately upon exiting the train station, there was a long boulevard that was inaccessible to cars. Pedestrians frequented the various ice cream parlors and poutine shops, blasted jazz music or lo-fi hip-hop from their speakers, and performers set up in the middle of the esplanade gathering large crowds of passersby as they danced, sang, performed magic tricks, etc.  

I was mesmerized by how so many local artists flocked to the heart of downtown to share their talent with natives and tourists. Moreover, I was amazed that such a space existed—that professionals and amateurs alike could showcase their unique, creative talents in a space where it was appreciated and admired. In a time when underfunded public schools are eliminating creative arts programs, R&B music and artists go unnoticed or under appreciated, and movie theater attendance is on the decline, it was amazing to be reminded that art is still important and impactful—it contributes beauty to the world, speaks for those who do not have the words, and the variety of our art is part of what differentiates us from other life forms on Earth—it makes us human. I hope we all remember to make a place for art; maybe not in the streets our local cities, but at the very least in our minds and hearts.