The Art of Mediocrity

something about this just feels wrong... I obviously can't make a full judgement without seeing the art, but just the idea that she went to K-Marts, manipulated the people that are working there, by making up stories, and then put the photographs in an exhibition intended to highlight mediocrity smacks of condescension. I would venture that many of the people who purchase clothes and have portraits taken at K-Mart are not out for high fashion or high art; rather, they are probably bound by circumstances that prevent them from being able to buy trending, cutting-edge clothes or hire expensive, artistic photographers or studios.

If Ms. Rywelski really wanted to make a commentary on the flattening of taste, it probably would have been better executed shopping at the "trendy boutiques" and over-priced stores, which are all selling the same things at exorbitant prices. Instead, what she did (at least from what I've read about it and what I see in this photo) seems more like poking fun rather art that is depicting a sense of "sadness, anger, and compassion." Obviously, my opinion could change if I saw the entire exhibit, but... really it just makes me uncomfortable.

I think that my post may have been misleading, because I don't think that the works in question are explicitly about mediocrity or a flattening of taste -- that seems to be the reviewer's take on the subject, and that's what I picked up on. But here is what Liz herself has to say in an excerpt from a Budget Living piece:

They may look like the Olan Mills photographs that hang in homes across America., but these portraits of 24 year-old Elizabeth Rywelski represent a new kind of performance art. Ever since she graduated from Philadelphia's Moore College of Art and Design two years ago, Rywelski has been going to Kmart stores, having the chains employees project their style onto her, then committing those images to film at the in-house Olan Mills portrait studios. The shtick is a tad complex: Rywelski enters Kmart wearing zero makeup. Jeans, and a solid top. Enlisting the help of a (usually female) employee she invents a scenario for having her picture taken (it's for her parents, say, or a fictional husband) and explains that she has just $100, in the form of a Kmart gift card, to buy a special outfit to wear in the photo. Then she asks the sales associate to choose her clothing, accessories, and even makeup. Once the pictures are shot, Rywelski returns the gear and restores the card to it's original balance. The stunt was inspired in part by her own grade-school photos, which she regards "more portraits of my parents, because they had chosen my haircut and my clothes." It was also driven by her interest in artist Cindy Sherman, famous for photographing herself in iconic roles. So far, Rywelski has done 11 shots and shown the work in galleries. Some viewers have accused her of taking advantage of the Kmart staff, but Rywelski sees the women as collaborators; "I could have never these images together in the same way without their help." Still, she admits, "I went through a period of questioning whether I was getting at something or just messing with people." Seems to us great artists do both.

-Lynne Palazzi; Budget Living Magazine August/September 2004

I guess that I agree with that last line -- one of the duties of art is to challenge the status quo, and to make viewers rethink "the norm." That process often entails making viewers feel uncomfortable.

It seems to me that Rywelski's work is provocative in a number of ways. One of the things she seems to explore is the fluidity of personal identity -- how unstable it is, how it is continually made and remade by the stories we tell about ourselves, and how that instability is heightened in places like an Olan Mills photography studio. For instance, when a person goes into a studio and tells the photographer about him or herself, which details are disclosed, and which are left out? Isn't there always some amount of deception going on in our public presentations of ourselves?

By lying to/manipulating/making stuff up for the Olan Mills photographers, Rywelski undercuts the "mission" of a commercial photographic portrait -- to capture a person's identity in a photograph -- in interesting ways. She calls the photos collaborations, which shows that the project exlores the way that portrait photographers in general, and the Olan Mills photographers in particular, map their tastes onto their subjects. And it's also about that particular genre of portrait photography that takes place in large, dislocating discount stores, where individual taste collides with mass-market goods, and is remade.

But it's also obvious from Rywelski's own comments that she understands the important objections you bring up. At any rate, I hope that this comment helps explain why I thought her work was worth a look. I'm sorry if my initial presentation of it did not fully express what I found interesting about it.

Matt,

Thanks for adding this follow-up. I feel like the light bulb just went on over my head. You know, "Ah-ha! Now I get it!"

My initial reaction had more to do with the idea of mediocrity -- and I would say that's not something you need to apologize for since that's all the reviewer really talked about. That's, of course, the dilemma of putting art out for the world -- there's always that risk of misinterpretation.

I'm now REALLY intrigued by Rywelski's concept and comments... as you said, the fluidity of identity, those grade school photographs... From that angle, the art becomes as much about Rywelski as the "collaborators"... and definitely takes the edge off of the "making fun" that I thought she was originally doing.

I wonder, does she ever 'fess up after the fact?

Thanks again for adding all this extra info.