Unnecessary antitheses: 
Perspectives on ‘realness’

JOSEPH FRALEY/ DAILY

JULIANNA MORANO
Daily Arts Writer

B-SIDE LEAD

I read Monica Youn’s “Stealing 
the Scream,” a poem narrativizing 
the theft of Edvard Munch’s 
famous 
Expressionist 
painting, 
and, without hesitation, I rooted 
for the thief. How could I not? In 
the third stanza, Youn scoffs at 
the museum security, outwitted 
by the thief, only for the walls of 
the museum itself to join in: “the 
guards rushing in — too late! — 
greeted only / by the gap-toothed 
smirk of the museum walls.” By the 
next, Youn paints the picture of a 
misunderstood vigilante-prophet. 
A rogue Moses? “Someone has the 
answers, someone who, grasping 
the frame, / saw his sun-red face 
reflected in that familiar boiling 
sky,” Youn concludes.
Then, I second-guessed myself. 
Cheering on art theft would 
certainly make me an enemy of 
museums, which, on the contrary, 
I have always cherished and 
respected. I wondered: Was I also 
making myself an enemy of art?
At the same time, I don’t think 
Youn’s ultimate aim is for her 
readers to weigh the ethics of 
art theft. Rather, Youn seems 
to be posing a more reasonable, 
worthwhile challenge, and that is 
to interrogate assumptions about 
the proper place for a work of art. 
She dares us to ask ourselves: where 
does art live? Where can art live? Is 
it always ideal to keep art cooped up 
inside? What does art gain and lose 
when it flies the coop? And I think 
the underlying question here is:
Is it an artwork’s place in a 
museum that gives it meaning — 
that makes it real?
I spoke to three women with 
backgrounds in museum work and 
studies, and I asked them the same 
question, though perhaps not in so 
many words. They had some things 
to say about the traditional, fixed 
conceptions of what makes a work 
of art real. They had much more to 
say about possible alternatives.

Is art only real if it’s inside of 
a museum?

Jillian 
Reese, 
community 
program manager at the Detroit 
Institute 
of 
Arts, 
respectfully 
disagrees with that question. She’s 
uniquely poised to make such a call, 
as a figure in the museum world at 
once invested in the DIA itself and 
the external communities with 
which it engages.

One of the most successful 
programs Reese has helped bring to 
multiple communities in Southeast 
Michigan is Inside|Out, in which 
the DIA exports reproductions of 
original artworks housed inside 
the museum and installs these 
reproductions in various outdoor 
venues of Detroit’s surrounding 
communities.
“There are things that an art 
museum can’t do,” she began, then 
chuckled and corrected herself, 
“I shouldn’t say can’t. There are 
things that museums don’t do that 
community collections can do.”
Reese 
identified 
one 
chief 
advantage of this transportation 
of reproductions beyond the walls 
of the museum: “We’re meeting 
people where they’re at … they 
don’t have to come down to 5200 
Woodward Avenue to see the art.”
In 
addition, 
rather 
than 
de-contextualizing art, Inside|Out 
re-contextualizes art in new, open 
air environs. “When you remove 
these images from their context 
in the gallery, and you put it in 
unfamiliar space, it adds this sort 
of whimsy. It’s fun and funny and 
irreverent for a Van Gogh to be 
in a park where it can get rained 
on,” and Reese laughed as she 
continued, “pooped on by a bird, 
all that sort of stuff.” On a more 
serious note, she addressed the 
osmotic 
meaning-making 
that 
this recontextualization enacts, 
arguing that it “allows people to 
have a chance to really notice it and 
to look at it a little deeper. It starts to 
inspire you in thinking about your 
environment in a different way.”
Along a similar vein, Inside|Out 
proceeds 
from 
a 
teaching 
methodology 
that 
the 
DIA 
espouses called “visual thinking 
strategies,” which prize the role art 
appreciators play in constructing 
the meaning of a work of art. “You 
bring something to an artwork,” 
Reese stressed. “How you read the 
artwork is influenced by that.” In 
turn, she said, “We really try to use 
Inside|Out pieces and images that 
will spark that sort of explanation.” 
In this way, Inside|Out provides 
an opportunity for individuals to 
make a personal connection with 
artwork that a gallery in a museum 
may not, our eyes tempted by the 
explanatory labels that seem to 
accompany every artwork. The 
authenticity of these Inside|Out 
reproductions 
notwithstanding, 
is that connection anything but 
real? Would anyone dare call those 
processes 
of 
meaning-making 

inauthentic?
The progressive gestures of 
Inside|Out have not proceeded 
without 
resistance. 
“I 
think 
that the people who had the 
the largest pushback against it 
was our curatorial staff,” Reese 
explained. “Librarians, registrars, 
programmers, 
educators 
in 
the art museums saw this as a 
democratization of art: access 
to the arts for more people,” in 
Reese’s experience, whereas “A 
lot of curators thought, well, why 
would they come to the museum if 
they could just Google the image 
to see it on your screen,” carrying 

a similar attitude toward physical 
reproductions.
Reese’s response? Increasing 
access to the arts, whether in the 
form of digitization or material 
reproduction and exportation via 
programs like Inside|Out, does 
not make the museum obsolete. 
“There’s enough space for both,” 
she argued, adding that “anyone 
who has gone to a museum knows 
there’s a big difference” between 
the originals housed in the DIA and 
their reproductions on the internet 
and in Inside|Out installations. 
“There’s no comparison. They 
serve two different purposes.”
Yet 
these 
two 
forms 
of 
participation are not mutually 
exclusive, either, and Reese has 
the research to back it up. “With 
Inside|Out, we have evidence that, 
in every community that we install 
in, during and after the installation, 
for about a year, we see a spike 
in attendance at the museum.” 
Laughing, she elaborated, “People 
look at (an Inside|Out installation) 
and say, ‘Maybe the DIA isn’t as 
stuffy as I thought it was.’” Rather 
than sapping the authenticity of 
art, Reese’s program attests to 
the amplification of an artwork’s 
meaning once it moves beyond its 
walls, to the multiplication of the 
authentic experiences with art. In 
many ways, art becomes more real 

if it is allowed to leave.

Is art only real if it fits the 
(ethnocentric) narrative?

Dr. Lisa Young, a lecturer in the 
archaeology 
and 
anthropology 
departments at the University 
of 
Michigan, 
challenges 
that 
assumption in a course she teaches 
called 
“Frauds 
and 
Fantastic 
Claims in Archeology.”
For part of the course, Young 
covers the history of the Michigan 
Relics: a group of tablets found 
in central Michigan and falsely 
attributed 
to 
pre-Columbian 
visitors to the Americas due to the 
imitation cuneiform inscribed in 
them. When teaching this story 
of how several political, religious 
and economic elites made absurd 
attempts to pass off these fraudulent 
artifacts as evidence of untold 
Old World influences on Native 
American 
civilizations, 
Young 
stresses what is at stake when those 
with the power to declare what is 
real and what is fake wield their 
power irresponsibly.
Specifically, 
the 
purported 
existence of these tablets were 
weaponized in favor of what 
Young identified as “the myth of 
the mound builders: (That) these 
mounds could not have been built 
by Native Americans,” referring 
to the monumental landforms left 
behind by Native American tribes 
in Midwestern states.
Young went on to explain 
the political reverberations of 
such denials of authenticity to 
Native 
American 
civilizational 
achievement: “You can see how 
that can really start to become a 
narrative, which it did, to deny 
native people their traditional 
homelands.” In fact, she pointed 
out that Andrew Jackson invoked 
the Michigan Relics “in a speech 
to Congress in 1830 to justify 
why Native Americans should 

be removed off their traditional 
homelands and shipped out to 
Oklahoma.” Because they were not 
allowed to lay claim to real art — 
“Because they’re just in the way.”
Of course, in the case of the 
Michigan Relics, we’re talking 
about archaeological objects, but 
as Young herself warned, there 
are various parallels outside of 

the archaeological sphere. In the 
discussion section of her class, 
students examine knockoffs of 
brand names. The resonance of 
this archaeological conflict over the 
facts with contemporary trends of 
political debate and “fake news” are 
addressed.
It makes you rethink the weight 
of the accusation of fraudulence, 
even when levied against a work 
of art. It reminds you: There is an 
artist behind that work of art that 
you’re disenfranchising.

Is art only real if it’s the 
“original”? 
(Resisting 
the 
ethnocentric 
narrative, 
part 
two).

Dr. Natsu Oyobe is a curator 
of Asian art at the University of 
Michigan Museum of Art. As a 
curator, she falls into the camp that 
the DIA’s Jillian Reese identified 
as the staunchest defenders of 
art’s rightful place being inside 
the museum. Oyobe has a distinct, 
refreshing take on what counts as 
“real” and “fake” in the world of 
fine art.
“Copying is a really important 
sort of training and mastering,” 
followed by interpretation and 
the creation of “something of your 
own,” in the East Asian tradition, 
Oyobe explained. She added that 
in response to nineteenth century 
Western influences, “the idea of 
copying really is tarnished in a 
way. Because of that Western idea 
(that the original has the) only true 
authenticity. That’s something that 
also embedded into the minds of 
Asians as well.”
Oyobe 
will 
confront 
these 
conflicting notions of authenticity 
in an upcoming UMMA exhibition 
she is curating. Called “Copying 
and Creativity in East Asia,” 
Oyobe’s exhibition will showcase 
art that prizes imitation, like 
that of the Chinese and Japanese 
literati painters. “The way they 
create their own work is to first 
copy brushstrokes of the masters 
who came before them,” Oyobe 
explained. “You have to have 
knowledge. If you paint this way, 
that really refers to this painter in 
the fifteenth century.”
Through her exhibition, which 
will open Aug. 17, 2019 in the 
Taubman I Gallery at the UMMA, 
Oyobe seeks to “argue against that 
kind of binary,” which arbitrarily 
sets 
imitations 
at 
odds 
with 
originals.

Does art become real when we 
build a relationship with it?

I’m circling back to Youn, 
and I’m taking some of Oyobe’s 
wisdom with me. Both women have 
refreshingly radical conceptions of 
what makes art real, though they 
approach it from two very different 

angles. I think their unexpected 
harmony is where the answer 
to my initial inquiry may lie, the 
answer to my question of whether 
believing art should exist outside 
of a museum makes you an enemy 
of art.
Youn says, “The policemen … 
stand whispering/in the galleries: 
‘ … but what does it all mean?’ / 
Someone has the answers, someone 
who, grasping the frame, / saw 
his sun-red face reflected in that 
familiar boiling sky.”
Oyobe said, “Sometimes the 
donor or collector who owns 
objects comes to us and says they 
want to donate these pieces, or 
they have these art objects but they 
don’t know anything about this.” 
And they ask Oyobe, “Would you 
tell me what this is?” She told me 
she often screens these inquiries 
and often has to be the one to 
disappoint them. “But I always say 
that, if you like this reproduction,” 
she added, “I think that really 
becomes authentic to that person.” 
She said, “If you love that piece,” 
then that inscribes the work with 
authenticity all the same.
And I say: The answer to my 
opening question is no. No, none of 
us are in enmity with art. Museums 
provide a beautiful home for 
artwork. They pay homage to the 
complexity of art, the individuality 
and collectivity of art objects. The 
DIA, UMMA and numerous other 
museums are on the front lines of 
affirming the value and meaning 
of art. But they are not keepers 
of that meaning and they are not 
what makes art real. We make art 
real. Think about it: Could it exist 
without you? Without your eyes 
upon it? Without your body in 
front of it? Receiving its message, 
interfering with it, making it 
dynamic and communicative and 
rich and resonant?
That is why I want osmotic 
art. I want art that can be rained 
upon. I want art that subverts 
the 
norms. 
Perhaps 
all 
this 
concentrated thought and talk has 
made me sentimental, but I want 
art that becomes real when I have a 
relationship with it, the way a child 
wants a toy that becomes real once 
they love it.
I want to be someone who “has 
the answers,” to see my own face 
reflected in a work of art. And I don’t 
want to have to steal art in order to 
experience that. I don’t want to be 
told my experience with a work of 
art is fake. I want people like Jillian 
Reese, Lisa Young and Natsu Oyobe 
at the helm, expanding our notion 
of what makes a work of art real. 
I want to escape the unnecessary 
antitheses set up between what’s 
“real” and what’s “reproduced,” 
and I want to focus instead on 
the reality of the meanings we 
construct when we take it all in.
Don’t you?

Unemployed

Tierra Whack

Interscope

SINGLE REVIEW: ‘UNEMPLOYED’

Tierra 
Whack 
is 
a 
multifaceted 
rapper 
and 
R&B artist. Her many hues 
are established not only by 
her bright-colored, evocative 
style, but also by her ability 
to take on multiple personas 
across her creative work. 
Inspired originally by the 
immersive 
worlds 
of 
Dr. 
Seuss, Whack established her 
ability to take on different 
personalities with her debut 
album Whack World, released 
in 2018. The album consists 
of fifteen tracks, each only 
one minute in length. It’s 
considered both an auditory 
and visual project, as it’s 
paired with a 15 minute 
music video that visualizes 
its scenes entirely.
Whack’s 
most 
recent 
single, 
“Unemployed,” 
epitomizes her keen sense 
of blending visual art with 

her sound — the vividly-
colored, couch-potato cover 
art serves as a manifestation 
of her enemies who can’t 
match 
her 
clout. 
Whack 
disses challengers with her 
characteristic 
satire 
and 
eccentric 
style, 
perfectly 
weaving the connotations of 

her cover art through each 
lyric: 
“You’re 
overweight, 
you ate a soda (Yo) / I’m 
super sober, you doin’ coke 
(Yo) / Coca-Cola (Yo, yo).”
Building on the success of 
her debut, Whack continues 
to establish herself as the 

queen 
of 
idiosyncratic 
formatting. Since Feb. 19, she 
has released five singles — one 
per week — that all fall under 
the umbrella of what she 
titles #WhackHistoryMonth.
With 
“Unemployed,” 
Whack continues to trailblaze 
a path for unconventional rap 
and the creative expression of 
women in the contemporary 
rap space. Her recent merch 
design, which is a play on 
her last name, encompasses 
her approach quite perfectly: 
Weird Hype And Creative 
Kids. Whack is on the come-
up, and she’s changing the 
norms for female rappers. 
Sit back, and watch Tierra 
Whack take her throne.

— Samantha Cantie, Daily 
Arts Writer

RACHEL STERN / NOISEY

DEB JACQUES / C&G NEWSPAPERS

Perhaps all this concentrated thought 
and talk has made me sentimental, but I 
want art that becomes real when I have 
a relationship with it.

6B — Thursday, March 28, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

