street cred
“Street Cred” took place as a temporary environmental installation and intervention in an alley in downtown Raleigh. The piece was a product of my mixed feelings about the opening of Raleigh’s new Contemporary Art Museum (CAM). I’d eagerly awaited the event — I’m generally totally behind anything arts-related happening in this city — but I was put off by the style of the proceedings. The museum decided its grand opening party would be a black tie gala, with tickets priced at $100 and $150. They billed it as a “lively street festival.”
I’d never knock an institution for having a gala fundraiser. But if you’re a contemporary arts institution in a town that doesn’t exactly have the warmest relationship with contemporary art, is this the best way to open things up and ingratiate yourself with the community?
The alley in which I installed the piece (with the help of the lovely Mollie Earls) is half a block from the cordoned area where the museum’s party occurred. It’s a really sweet, deep space that calls to the working history of the rail/warehouse district that’s now transitioning into a home for art galleries and nightlife. There’s a rotting mattress and a stale sandwich in a ziploc bag amongst the empty liquor bottles, under a random tree that’s sprouted halfway down. The silence and the volumes one finds back there are the persistent whispers of a city trying to keep track of its soul through course of some profound changes.
I’d never knock an institution for having a gala fundraiser. But if you’re a contemporary arts institution in a town that doesn’t exactly have the warmest relationship with contemporary art, is this the best way to open things up and ingratiate yourself with the community?
The alley in which I installed the piece (with the help of the lovely Mollie Earls) is half a block from the cordoned area where the museum’s party occurred. It’s a really sweet, deep space that calls to the working history of the rail/warehouse district that’s now transitioning into a home for art galleries and nightlife. There’s a rotting mattress and a stale sandwich in a ziploc bag amongst the empty liquor bottles, under a random tree that’s sprouted halfway down. The silence and the volumes one finds back there are the persistent whispers of a city trying to keep track of its soul through course of some profound changes.
