After a year of observing the construction at Walker Art Center as artistic spectacle–the slow-dancing crane, the scaffolding-as-sculpture, the huge, billowing plastic tarps–we’re as excited as the next guy to finally revisit the museum proper. Of course, the expansion, designed by Herzog & de Meuron, promises to be spectacular in its own right (see The Rakish Angle, page 19), boosting the glamour quotient of an already impressive institution. But we’re also eager to say hello to old friends from the Walker’s permanent collection, and to see a host of new wonders, now that the museum has doubled its gallery space. Richard Flood, the Walker’s deputy director and chief curator, and Philippe Vergne, its senior curator (pictured with Walker colleagues), tell us what we can look forward to.
THE RAKE: We’ve been hearing a lot of talk about “conversation” when it comes to the Walker expansion. What do you mean by that word?
Richard Flood: In the [original] Larabee Barnes building, there was no place to talk other than the cafe. Now the museum is modeled on the town square, and it has circulation patterns that end up in lounges, where you can sit and have conversation. There are tables where you can bring your computer, or go through Walker catalogs. There are discreet spaces where you can sit and listen to music that’s been commissioned by the performing arts department. There’s a lot of space for community engagement.
Philippe Vergne: Also, for the first time, the museum is totally open to the city, so there is a real conversation between the urban landscape and the museum. The other conversation that is happening is that art is conversing with art. Several exhibitions we curated from the permanent collection show a very interesting conversation between works, between artists, and between disciplines.
THE RAKE: Will people see new parts of the permanent collection?
RF: Yes. The core of the Barnes galleries is given over to a chronology that begins in the 1950s and covers American abstract expressionism and the wonderful paintings we have from that period. As you proceed through the galleries, you begin to see a larger international dialogue about painting, becoming a conversation that also includes notions about the third dimension. You see paintings literally turning into sculpture as European art is introduced. There’s a gallery called American Standard, where you have a discussion about pop art, but it also shows the power of pop to influence other expressions in art. And then you have a room of 1980s paintings, because we thought it was very interesting to have a moment where you go from everybody’s understanding of postwar painting to where you see that idea being reformatted for a new century.
THE RAKE: What do you think characterizes the art of the early twenty-first century?
RF: For me, the early 2000s remind me of the mid-to-late 1980s, when everyone became aware of AIDS, and there was a sense of crisis in art. All of a sudden, drawing became incredibly important. People were working incredibly fast and economically to make their work and get it out. Now we’re back at a moment when you’re seeing drawing becoming dominant again. You’re seeing art that reflects a state of emergency.
PV: I think when you go through the studios of every young artist, there is a level of consciousness, and flexibility, and a position that their work can make a difference. It’s not unlike the mid-to-late sixties movements that were socially and politically involved. There are questions about our time that are being raised in the work of young artists now. Most visitors are unfamiliar with the work that curators do.
THE RAKE: What made you pursue curatorial work, as opposed to making art yourselves? Or are you also artists?
RF: No! Thank God. We’re not distracted by that. For a certain personality, there’s nothing more exciting than looking at art, thinking about art, and attempting to create situations in which the art tells a larger story about the time we live in. Curators look at each work as a messenger of the larger culture, and you can see worlds form around you when working with these individual pieces.
PV: It’s a profession that has the luxury of being almost self-defined. It’s animated by passion. And also, there are models that many of us look to, like Harald Szeemann, who just passed away. He had been working since the late 1960s and really helped define what “curator” means today.
RF: He was a giant. He opened up what previously had been a field where curators were essentially specialists, in really limited and defined areas. And he said, “That’s not the point.” He was a generalist, and his exhibitions were visual essays that always had at their center larger issues.
THE RAKE: What do you two want to be known for as curators?
RF: For that!
PV: Exactly.
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