Culturespotting

The Cosmetic Kiss of Death Tries to Go Viral

We all know that beauty ideals have spiraled out of control and landed us in a white-hot mess of complexity. Gone are the golden years of first wave feminism when you could chalk up red lipstick to female subjugation within a patriarchal system. Now we have to grapple with vampire facelifts, “lollipop head” skinny celebrities, extreme airbrushing in health magazines, and the rise of the uber body conscious meterosexual.

And somehow a visit to Sephora is still the closest I get to Disneyland. It’s not so much about turning myself into a pleasing Stepford Wife, as it is about satisfying a need to be expressive. Sadly, over the years it has broken my heart to find out that most cosmetics are chockful of toxins such as lead, plasticizers, metals and formaldehyde. I used to think that death by makeup only happened in extreme cases—like the tragic incident of The Wizard of Oz’s Tin Man who unwittingly got basted in aluminum dust. But as luck would have it, cosmetic companies freely use toxins that you’d be reluctant to lather on a dead body.

Which is why I was excited to hear that the non-profit organization Environmental Defence was fighting the good fight by trying to eliminate poisons in cosmetics across Canada. I was also impressed to learn that they had embarked on a marketing campaign in the form of a minute long YouTube video. The alarm bells should have started ringing when they kept bandying around the descriptive term “cheeky”.  Dear reader, please invest one minute of your time and watch their YouTube link here: Try to Look Pretty Without Poisoning Yourself.

The first time I viewed it, I felt confused, as though my GP had just diagnosed me with hysteria. The second time round, I tried to stay focused on the bigger issue but was tipped over the edge by the line “meet Jackie who feels her ordinary looks can use all the help they can get.” So here is a new blog segment that I am hoping will also go viral. Let’s call it:

Try to Make A Viral Video Without Embarrassing Yourself

Here are my top five recommends for the creative team at Environmental Defence:

TIP # 1 - Patronizing titles induce rage

When it came to picking the title what the hell happened folks? Did you run a focus group with the moms from Toddlers and Tiaras? Pretty?!? Seriously? Between Judith Butler and Lady Gaga there is a strong case to be made that sometimes cosmetics are about exploring the artifice of femininity, personal expression and the performative nature of identity. Even mainstream brands such as M.A.C. have collaborated with the likes of artist Cindy Sherman and launched cosmetic advertising campaigns based on the failed masquerade of femininity. At least the make up companies recognize that our psychological associations with make up are a complex territory to navigate.

TIP # 2 Half-assed retro leaves you with the dignity of an infomercial

The set looks like somebody threw up nursery colors onto a 1980s game show. Anyone who has watched an episode of Mad Men or Boardwalk Empire, knows that retro is now an art form. Designers on those TV shows get blackballed from Hollywood for accidentally leaving a genetically modified apple on set. And here you are anachronistically rolling out a treasure trove of contemporary cosmetics onto a dated game show? To what end? Why do a hack job of retro 1980s when this is a distinctly contemporary issue that belongs in the present?

TIP #3 Know Thy Enemy

I’m sorry but who are the bad guys again? Is it the government who has failed to properly legislate or the cosmetic companies who inject poisons into products? Neither of these parties make an appearance in your video. I wanted to see a public shaming of the worst offending brands. I wanted horrifying cigarette “warning labels,” smeared across polished Lancome products and sexy perfume bottles. Instead you guilt-trip and blame female consumers for being uninformed? And here I am, probably your target audience, who has been angered enough to waste bags full of time critiquing your marketing campaign instead of investing energy in a good cause.

TIP #4 Learn a truism: sexist stereotypes of women are sexist

Freud once mused that “woman is an enigma”, but I guess your creative team showed us what’s what with your two penetrating portrayals of femininity. Not only did you give us Jackie - the “ordinary” suburban shrinking violet, but you also treated us to a bedazzled Vanna White-type silent hostess clad in pink sequins. Original. Next time enact the script with Barbie dolls, you’ll save money and win female audiences over more easily.

TIP #5 Shape up or ship out on the “going viral” marketing dream

That means be hilarious, shocking, or unwittingly capture the zeitgeist of a cultural moment. If you can’t do any of those things with confidence, then play it simple cowboy and respectfully inform us on the issue. What we don’t need is an irritating game show host clad in a cheap polyester suit berating a frazzled soccer mom who is intended to represent the everywoman. I have a pretty good sense of humor, but my idea of cheeky requires at least an ounce of intelligence.

—————

This blog is dedicated to a group of savvy ladies who might just march over to Environmental Defence’s offices wearing harlot red stilettos and toxic red lipstick so that they can plant a giant kiss of death on those misinformed walls.

For the ladies out there: research what cosmetics are safe on this database: http://www.ewg.org/skindeep/

For the menfolk: personal hygiene products are also a major issue so look up hair products, moisturizers, deodorants and colognes.

For the Environmental Defense creative team: do your homework and at the very least beef up on lipstick feminism.

by Christina Bagatavicius

The problem with creative genius.

              

For a long time now I have resented the concept of creative genius. In fact, all the self-proclaimed “geniuses” out there can go suck it along with the starchitects, gurus and people who enjoy peppering their writing with hideously self-aggrandizing gendered terms like “seminal”. Across the centuries creative types have sought out what I can only describe as the Gustav Courbet effect - the desire to be a tortured soul who creates original ideas. Courbet’s romanticized 19th century self-portrait of himself really sums it all up for me in a single image. There he is a lonely man reveling in his own creative madness, with intense brooding eyes, frazzled hair and a misanthropic air. The painting equates artistic spark with existing in a state of tortured and misunderstood introspection. I bet in art school Courbet was the last guy anybody wanted to get paired up with on the group projects.

              

And don’t even get me started on the ridiculous gender divide. Einstein, Da Vinci, Stephen Hawking, Shakespeare, Picasso, Mozart, Bobby Fischer, Steve Jobs – it’s an exclusive “A team” old boys club. So ladies, just forget about it! Up until the last century, all the menfolk writing meaty history books just subbed in the word hysterical for female genius. Probably part of some ill-fated Illuminati coverup to keep the chicks in the kitchen baking muffins. Sure every once in a while a cleaned up token lady got chucked into the mix for good measure—usually Marie Curie or Mother Teresa—just so we could pretend that genius was not tied up with sexist ideals, narrow definitions of intelligence and outside social factors. 

Today talented artistic ladies still don’t fair much better. Why do you think the Guerrilla Girls have been kicking up such a fuss all these years? Don’t believe me? Try typing in “female geni” in a google search. Ironically, the first terms to pop up are “female genital mutilation” and “female genital warts,” female genius doesn’t even make the bottom of the list. To earn this status as a woman you have three options: be dead, mentally unstable, or ideally both. Think about it: Virginia Wolf (suicide). Amy Winehouse (dead). Diane Arbus (suicide). Yayoi Kusama (in an asylum). Vivienne Westwood (alive and crazier than a coconut).   

                              

But I digress because what I really want to ask is: why has the lone genius myth been so hard to shake? About a month ago I presented a paper at the International Council of Museums (ICOM) conference focused on how cultural institutions could better cross-pollinate ideas and programming. The discussion was around how collective thinking is what leads to breakthrough ideas within creative industries. It is the way of the future, especially when hard economic times demand more thinking outside the box. Given that we live in a complex and information rich world, its time to step away from the megalomaniac paradigms and leap into the arms of collective genius.

In fields such as science, business, and design – this is an emerging trend that continues to gain traction. The folks at NASA have gone out on a limb and pointed out that the future of space exploration depends on bringing together an interdisciplinary swat team. Within the field of innovation strategy, one need only look at design firms like IDEO to recognize that a think tank approach to problem solving is part of the new world order. And god bless Malcolm Gladwell for finally debunking the whole, “you’re just born with” schtick.

   

Yet for some reason the arts and culture are slow to jump on the collaboration bandwagon. Just look at the da Vinci exhibition coming to the Toronto Science Center. A traveling show with a mass appeal that went with the predictable name “Leonardo Da Vinci: The Genius”. Why? Because it screams culturally worthy must-see blockbuster. We live in a society that privileges individualism and intellectual ownership. There is a fairytale appeal to the belief that creative processes are shrouded in mystique and all about special “eureka” moments. Plus if creativity only happens in the hands of a gifted few, then that helps to elevate the value of culturally worthwhile experiences. But let’s face it, behind every Jean Paul Gaultier, Damien Hirst, Frank Gehry and George Lucas there is an army of highly talented keebler elves who are secretly baking those cookies in the keebler elf tree.

  

While the arts is slow to embrace ideas of collective genius I remain optimistic that times are changing out of necessity. Across high and low culture there is a demand for interesting collaborations like never before and this is bringing together individuals and disciplines in new and dynamic ways. It is only a matter before we snuff out the wannabe Gustav Courbet’s out there and replace them with an army of Guerrilla Girls.

- Christina Bagatavicius

The Apocalypse - This Season’s Ultimate Muse

Anybody else notice that the world is teetering on the brink of collapse? Beyond tsunamis, hurricanes, earthquakes and nuclear disasters—how about those 26 pieces of out-of-control satellite matter that are careening towards plant earth … NASA is playing the super laidback schtick, but I’ve seen enough episodes of 24 to know when there is a government conspiracy aimed at keeping the masses calm. Even the weatherman (aka the guy who cannot predict rain) is in on it, yesterday he was trying to soothe viewers by predicting that we are more likely to get struck by lightening than die from being pummeled by space matter.

Like it or not—it looks like post, post modernism = an apocalyptic state of mind. Let’s face it, this end of the world anxiety has wiggled its way into our collective consciousness. Some of you may have built survival kits already because of the incredible rise in environmental disasters. Others of you might be stockpiling cans of creamed corn in a bunker after noticing how the global economy is spiraling downwards. And for the rest of us, maybe feelings of doom and gloom have surfaced because of a fear that although we escaped the Rapture, there is still the 2012 Mayan predictions to contend with.

I do not rely on such nonsense as “facts,” “news,” or “science” to validate my personal fears. I prefer to pick up on the pulse of culture for some telling answers. I try and read trends as though they were a cup of fortune-teller’s tealeaves. Who needs the seven seals when you have - fashion, art, film and TV? I am afraid that the outcome looks grim. The apocalypse is the official, trendy muse of the season. Listed below are a few examples of how our current cultural fabric have caught apocalypse fever.

1 – FASHION

Beyond pencil skirts anybody else notice what was walking down the Fall 11 runway? How about the end? Did anybody see Sarah Burton’s advertising campaign for McQueen this fall—it’s shot in a desolate and shambolic post-apocalyptic landscape. Or how about Karl Lagerfeld, a man who once concerned himself with haute couture and designing skinner Cola Light bottles, who is now professing that, “the world is a dark place.” His designs for Chanel this season embraced a deep and hopeless grey and his runway was engulfed in glimmering embers and ghostly smoke.

2 – FILM

TIFF is now touted as a trendspotting extravaganza for cinema. If you went, maybe you saw Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia a disastrous wedding day that coincides with the end of the world. Or maybe you opted for the new French sci-fi Carre Blanc, which reveals a fascinatingly post-apocalyptic world that makes A Clockwork Orange look like kid’s play. Or perhaps you saw The Day, which for 24 hours follows a handful of survivors who are doomed to face the end. Or did you take in the drama Take Shelter, which tells the story of a father overwhelmed with apocalyptic visions of so he builds shelter to protect the family against impending doom. Even Samsarra the stunning visual documentary of the current state of the world (brought to you by the people who did Baraka) seemed to make current existence on earth seem like it was headed for a plunge off a jagged cliff. Notice a trend emerging here? It used to be that horror movies played out our greatest social anxieties, but now all genres of film are getting in on the action and offering audiences the ultimate catharsis.

3 - MUSIC

So, here we are near the end and it is the official end of R.E.M., the band who brought us the song “It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).” Clearly, they no longer  “feel fine…” about all of this. Perhaps their aging indie little hearts can no longer live with the hypocrisy of singing that song now that the end is properly near, so they have split up to save face.

4 - SURVIVALIST REALITY TV

Fact: most of our menfolk seem to have developed an obsession with survivalist TV. The sub-genre offers viewers an entertaining boot camp approach to running through practical drills of what techniques could ensure that we survive disaster (i.e. the end of the world in any shape or form). Survivorman, Dual Survival and Man Versus Wild, are just a few of the shows that have captivated my husband. To me, this is a sign that apocalypse anxiety has spread to the menfolk. By dishing out “real life” practical advice, our loving white collar husbands can rationalize that they are not panicking, but instead picking up practical tips, should they ever find themselves stranded in an alligator filled bayou with no shoes, while a volcano erupts.

5 – MAJOR ART EXHIBITS

When I used to work at Tate Britain there was one gallery in the permanent collection I specifically tried to avoid, a stunning Victorian room that always displayed the work of John Martin, also known as “the master of the apocalypse.” Well it looks like this year marks his big-time coming out party. The artist’s panoramic paintings of Biblical fire and brimstone are absolutely terrifying and are now being showcased in a mega solo exhibition, aptly named: John Martin: The Apocalypse. I suppose the curators figured they’d better show this body of work now, as post-apocalypse these paintings might be best experienced as tableau vivants. Less dramatic but equally terrifying is the fact that the V&A is putting on the exhibition Postmodernism: Style and Subversion 1970-1990. This means we are forced to face that we now live in a post-millenial era, whatever the hell that means it can’t be good … The end of the intellectual line folks.

To be honest, I miss the days when my worst fear was being mauled by a pack of zombie raccoons (I blame that one on a David Suzuki documentary).  I may have a heightened awareness of death. Yes—I watched horror movies too young. Yes—my mother made a parenting misstep when she promised they’d invent a pill that cured dying. Yes—I should not have read Revelations like it was a VC Andrews novel during  elementary school. But still … I am pretty sure we have crammed earth with one too many ingredients and, like a wheezing pressure cooker, it’s ready to blow. I can avoid the news, but sadly I cannot avoid culture. My only hope is that some trendy product designer launches a well designed survivalist kit, so I can buy useful Christmas presents this year.

- Christina Bagatavicius

The New Canadiana Aesthetic, Eh?

 

I’m gonna’ fess up. I spent most of my life running away from my Canadian roots. I used to cringe at descriptions of Canadians as outdoorsy, understated, polite and laid back. I played the anti-hero well. Outdoorsy—sure, if drinking cava on a patio counts. Understated, yup—so much so that I have often wondered if I am the re-incarnation of a drag queen. And super laid back too…so long as you overlook a compulsive obsessive ‘all or nothing’ attitude that is rounded out by a suffocating fear of dying. Did I also mention I don’t drink beer, hate hockey and wince every time I hear the word loonie?

When I left this country in my twenties, I tried to dodge the “Canadian” label as best I could. Forget about differentiating between American versus Canadian. I’d go out on a limb to clarify that I was a Montrealer, which got spun into “the closest thing North America has to Barcelona…” A stretch sure, but I was clinging onto the hope that my French-speaking hometown somehow made me seem more stylish and worldly. I thought our relocation to Toronto would be a cultural deathblow. Some mountie was gonna douse me with a bucket of maple syrup and I’d melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. Or worse yet, I’d wake up in a shapeless, plaid flannel straightjacket forced to wear “sensible” winter-proofed boots and watch This Hour Has 22 Minutes.

I am pleased to announce that Canada and even Toronto (the alleged death star of this country) are inspiring me these days. We are on the up-and-up. There is an uplifting aesthetic sensibility that is both contemporary AND distinctly Canadian. It is raw, handmade, sincere, a little irreverent and a dash quirky. In a post-post modern world it is probably reckless to make bold statements that sweep across vast expanses of land, but I am just going to say it like it is. There is a new wave of creative energy out there that feels iconic and we urgently need to grab onto it. We must draw a decisive line between old school and new school Canadiana.

Citizens of this country, surely you agree that we should no longer have to endure  exhibitions like The Design Exchange’s Play>Nation, which showcased a disappointing potluck of banal outdoor tat? Clever infographics aside, am I seriously meant to swell up with pride from headless mannequins dressed in Roots? Yes, we are a young nation desperately struggling to express who we are. But, in order to move ahead with the times we need to de-clutter, and let go of outdated icons that oversimplify our identity as nation. Just to be clear: old school Canadiana—is the thoughtless peddling of maple leafs, mounties, Marshall McLuhan references and canoes. It is the predictable and slapstick stereotypes dished out during the Vancouver Olympics.  It is pretending that poutine is the height of our culinary prowess. It is the proliferation of Group of Seven landscapes on fridge magnets, keychains and coasters.

Instead let’s embrace new school Canadiana! It’s easy. Wrap yourself in a stylish Hudson Bay striped point blanket—the new trendy emblem of Canadianness—while flipping through Marian Bantje’s I Wonder—a slammin’ representation of this nation’s eclectic design sensibility. Marvel at the stunning yet pared-back artist commune they have built in Fogo Island, Newfoundland. Enjoy the unpretentious culinary vision of Martin Picard’s Au Pied de Cochon, in the Montreal Plateau. Bask in the charm of the Drake General Store too, a rough around the edges, bric-a-brac vibe that epitomizes this new Canadian je ne sais quoi. Whether we are talking food, art or retail—there is no room for frumpy, boring or predictable. Long live Canadian chic!

As a country we have grown up. Even the AGO has upped the ante with their latest must-see Haute Culture: General Idea retrospective. Better than the Ab Ex show by a mile, this exhibition made me want to hang banners of neon poodles everywhere. On the CBC’s 75^th anniversary—we should all be considering Canadian pop culture and the aesthetic sensibility and icons that characterize us. For me it’s General Idea instead of Group of Seven, Joe Fresh Style instead of Zellers, indie coffee shops (that don’t know what double, double means) instead of Timmies, and Arcade Fire instead of Celine Dion. I have finally arrived!

- Christina Bagatavicius

References:

Canadian culture alphabet and Adanac Canadian inspired font: http://www.10fourdesign.com/adanac/adanac_uc.html

Drake General Store: http://drakegeneralstore.myshopify.com/

Marian Bantjes: http://www.bantjes.com/

Haute Culture: General Idea, AGO: http://www.ago.net/haute-culture-general-idea

Keeping the “POP” in pop up

                      

Pop. Pop. Pop. So few letters and yet they carry so much impact. Plus, the word is a palindrome – the linguistic equivalent to finding a four-leaf clover in the English Dictionary. I shudder at its beauty and symmetry. “Pop” is the spectacular punch line in a magic trick, it is the first time you feast your eyes on the art of Roy Lichtenstein, the sound of fireworks exploding and the sweet taste of cherry cola—all rolled into one. Who wouldn’t want to indulge in an all-you-can-eat buffet of pop? How can we resist a word that is chock-full of childlike wonder and unexpected delight?

While I am heaping praises on a three-letter word, let’s be honest here, if “pop” had been my college roommate there is no way she would have been cast as the starving artist. Nope. She woulda been the well-dressed, entrepreneurial Justin Timberlake type from The Social Network. She’d wear Christian Louboutins to kegger parties, and probably have some chestnut of a story about how she had decided to patent the intellectual property rights to her lemonade stand at the ripe age of seven, after an epiphany that it could be a scalable prototype for a pop up shop model. Damn her! Still, the moment somebody mentions the words pop up shop concept store, my knee-jerk reaction is to spring into action and track down whatever limited edition baubles await me. I am immediately filled with anticipation that a Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory is just around the corner. In fact, I am willing to risk being dragged to hell by oompa loompas, if the object of desire is sparkly enough and the retail space captures my imagination.

              

Although I had assumed that this guerilla marketing strategy was relatively new, apparently pop up shops have been successfully creating retail buzz for nearly a decade.  Everybody has gotten in on the action—from Target to Urban Outfitters to Hermes. No one is immune to its charms, from the recessionistas out there (myself included), through to luxury shoppers who can’t wait to have a Hermes “scarf stylist” at a scarf bar show them how to pack punch with France’s finest silk (myself excluded. Not enough cash to invest in a no man’s land accessory). Whether you are a discount retailing company or some ultra luxury brand, all we (the common folk) ask is that you truly celebrate the joyousness of the pop up idea! Sifting through a mish mash of unsellable tat on some unloved hangers in a derelict temporary space is truly heartbreaking, especially when you are expecting a whimsical fashion experience. It’s like being promised a cabinet of wonders and ending up having to dumpster dive for dinner.

While the retail world has nearly done the pop up concept to death, cultural producers are starting to appropriate the model and bring it to life in new ways. For instance, there is the upcoming BMW Guggenheim Lab, an itinerant indoor-outdoor public gathering space that has been designed to serve as a community hub, urban dialogue space and think tank lab. This temporary “pop up” community plaza launches in New York City on August 3^rd for a limited time only. The architectural structure—designed by Atelier Bow Wow—will kick off in New York, re-locate in Berlin and later end up somewhere in Asia. They have invited an international and interdisciplinary team of thinkers to program the space and spearhead solutions around how to improve contemporary urban living. This is a fantastic moment, where public programming has the opportunity to be poured out into cross cultural streets, beyond the island of fixed institutions. The hope is that such a dynamic and flexible space will foster new ways of thinking about urbanization.

Yet another cultural project that embraces the spirit of the pop up is The Lost Horizon Night Market, which has been described as part guerrilla art event, part 21^st century traveling circus. This pop up concept involves a mobile art community who set up shop in twenty or so unmarked box trucks that—for one night only—are transformed into participatory art installations. So basically, a carnival of fun literally rolls into a desolate alleyway and whoever tracks it down through word-of-mouth, is welcome to explore whatever awaits them. While I have yet to attend, apparently these trucks have been transformed into tea parties and campfires, séances and saloons, black light installations, mission impossible games and noodle bars. Created by Mark Krawczuk and Kevin Balktick, the concept is entirely free and organized by a troupe of volunteers. For those of us not fortunate enough to live in Brooklyn – fear not! In true Robin Hood fashion, the 2011 Parkdale BIA Nuit Blanche curators seem to have taken inspiration from this market and are in the midst of curating a series of truck-based experiences for one night only, under the theme Leitmotif. Maybe chasing rainbows is a fool’s game, but I’m willing to still seek out short-lived happiness so long as it can keep the pop popping.

- Christina Bagatavicius

To find out more:

Guggenheim Lab: http://www.guggenheim.org/guggenheim-foundation/collaborations/bmw-guggenheim

The Lost Horizon Market: http://brooklyn-spaces.com/2011/05/lost-horizon-night-market/

Pop poster: http://jenniferrancourt.com/posters.html

Nuit Blanche 2011, Leitmotif: http://www.scotiabanknuitblanche.ca/home.shtml

IS THERE A CURE FOR BLOCKBUSTERITIS?

I have no qualms about enjoying culture in all shapes and forms, however I have a major bone to pick with the blockbuster experience (your cue to boo me, throw tomatoes and heckle “get off the stage”). You are probably wondering, what kind of a populist woman of the people do I think I am? Sure blockbusters sound good in theory and every time I give them a go, I am naively hopeful we’ll score a win-win situation for audiences and cultural producers alike. If only we lived in an ideal world where such entertainment extravaganzas were all dazzling showstoppers featuring topnotch quality.

I’m not going to dole out the classic curatorial arguments on this one about not wanting to dumb down the museum or turn it into a blinged out casino experience. I’d love nothing more than to revel in glitz and glam and wear sequin in the daytime. Nor do I have major reservations about embracing widely accessible themes and content. My issue is that in order for a blockbuster to nail its visitor figures, it must nearly always travel the safe route. It is culture’s equivalent to a meat head Goliath who wildly swings his arms, trying to smash a tiny and agile David. If we were gambling you’d want to put your money on Goliath as he is the obvious choice - the tried and tested option. Similarly a blockbuster relies on embracing a risk-averse model of meaning making. Whether you are an exhibition, a publication or a film studio, its all about bringing in the big guns, all the Tom Cruises and Pablo Picassos of the world—who are cast into a narrative story arch that is a surefire recipe for making money. This often means relying on a predictable formula and tweaking it just enough so that it seems fresh, yet still familiar. When a project’s primary focus is on generating hype and crowds, there is a danger that the big idea, will be a reheated same-old, same-old.

The blockbuster recipe is fatally flawed, and nowhere are its shortcomings more pronounced than in an art gallery or a museum. Whereas publishing and film are already well versed in the art of turning a buck to please the masses, this is still a relatively new trick for cultural institutions to swing and many of them have not yet mastered the logistics involved in orchestrating the experience. What happens? Audiences end up in long lines filled with white-hot rage. They are herded along like cattle, forced to navigate through an overabundance of bobbing heads and unnecessarily stern gallery attendants. The worst of it is when there is not even enough space for said blockbuster (TIFF – Tim Burton from MoMA, anyone with me?), and the artifacts get jam-packed onto those gallery walls. The effect is that the gallery becomes the institutional equivalent to Cinderella’s ugly stepsister trying to squeeze her bulbous foot into that delicate glass slipper. 

Of course this concern isn’t unique to the museum sector either, last week I bought a mass-market paperback—and for arguments sake—say it was a cheesy vampire novel, hypothetically speaking of course. I could not escape feelings of shame and guilt. Badly written, predictable, uninspired and there I was reading it. I buried its hot pink cover into my lap on the streetcar, quietly hoping that maybe it could pass for a more dignified Jodi Picoult novel, hell I might have even taken Dan Brown. There are so many brilliant books in this world and I had deliberately settled on mediocrity. Then there was the “must see” movie this week, Bridesmaids. With each scene, I waited to be filled with delight and laughter, and instead ended up traumatized by a scatological wedding dress scene that gave me nightmares. Literally. I wanted so badly to love it. In hindsight, I spent most of my time guessing how many other films it ended up borrowing from to make it a commercial success. Not difficult to figure out considering the poster proudly pointed out: Superbad, Knocked Up and 40 Year Old Virgin. I could just imagine the pitch meeting, “It’s The Hangover meets Bride Wars,” only funnier.

 Far be it from me to deprive creative industries from paying the bills or producing cultural programming that holds the promise of a “wow” factor, but sometimes striving towards mass appeal can have damaging effects. These days in order to compete in the market place, galleries end up importing shows from abroad to temporarily boost their visitor figures and raise money from ticket sales. There are so many museums out there with brilliant permanent collections and so many minds out there with creative sparkle. The idea of paying oodles of cash to park somebody else’s Rolls Royce into your prime parking space is lame. While it might be a temporary fix for getting crowds through the doors, does it really succeed in building equity in the creative capital of an institution? Of course the rationale is that we want to connect with new audiences and share cultural experiences with as many people as possible. But is outsourcing creativity and content the best solution we can come up with? Can’t we take risks with bold contemporary ideas and find outside of the box ways of bringing in the crowds? Here a couple ideas for how to cure blockbusteritis:

1 - Take the Show on the Road

If people are unwilling to come in the gallery, why don’t we bring the gallery to them? Curate a caravan “taster” of an existing exhibition and take the show on the road. Tour every suburban community center and shopping mall nearby.

2 - People’s Choice

If we really want to appeal to a broader public, can’t we get a little riskier about how we build a show with mass appeal? There is a people’s choice for fashion, TV, film, food—why not museum artifacts? Let’s build a totally democratic cabinet of curiosities. Let the inmates run the asylum and have people vote and curate the exhibition of their dreams.

3 – Shake-Up the Permanent Collection

Regular museum-goers get bored and land on the ole, “I’ve already seen the dinosaurs” line. So why not think about the permanent collection as a stomping ground for creating scavenger hunts inspired by pop culture themes? Jump across history and space and reveal something new.  Talk to me about what objects are embroiled in the most epic scandals, where you keep that stuff of nightmares, or the most fashionable “on trend” objects of the season. 

- Christina Bagatavicius