Michael Maltzan NA + Mary Miss NA

The final episode of Exquisite Corpse’s second season features a conversation between LA-based architect, Michael Maltzan, who chose to speak with an artist who had an impact on his work, Mary Miss, who is based in New York.

Mary speaks about her early career as an artist during the 1960s, the influences of minimalism and landscape on her practice, and how these influences pushed her closer to architecture. The two National Academicians discuss the ways in which their work is, in part, concerned with the interaction between a viewer and the work itself. They both discuss the psychological concerns of this interaction between the viewer and the work and what impact this has on their respective practices.

Michael probes a constellation of ideas—timescales, permanence, ephemerality—and how their respective practices are often quite different in this regard. Both examine the paths their practices have taken toward the impacting social change, and Mary considers participation and the notion of the “expanded field” working as an artist out in the world as an architect does.

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Transcript

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 0:11

Hi, I'm Adrianne Elise Tarver, the Director of Programs and the host of the National Academy podcast - Exquisite Corpse. This podcast is a series of conversations between artists and architects, who've been elected by their peers, to the National Academy of Design for their extraordinary contributions to art and culture in America. These are the National Academicians and they are at the core of the oldest artist run organization in the United States. This is Exquisite Corpse. Welcome back to the Exquisite Corpse podcast. Thanks to everyone who has been following us the whole way. If this is your first time joining us, we've got eight other episodes for you to go back and enjoy. Since last year, we've been sitting down with National Academicians and giving them the space to chat about the things that are important to them. We're excited to continue with another episode this week. And as before, I'm happy to have another National Academy staff member read our Historical Acknowledgement.

Gregory Wessner: 1:13

My name is Gregory Wessner and I'm the Executive Director of the National Academy of Design. The National Academy of design was initiated by artists and architects to fill a void in the American artistic landscape of the 19th century. But we recognize our history has excluded many communities and cultures whose lineages and practices must be included in this country's art historical cannon. Indigenous peoples, people of color, queer and non-binary individuals and people with disabilities. We are committed to a process of dismantling the ongoing legacies of settler colonialism and white supremacy. We are excited to move forward and have conversations that reflect the important questions and issues of today. We are the National Academy of Design and you are listening to Exquisite Corpse

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 2:05

Architecture is an important part of the National Academy. Since its founding, artists and architects have been understood to be equally important to the shaping and growth of culture in America. But as we've talked about before, creative people rarely stay within any strict boundaries or definitions. Even though I'm an artist, I loved learning about architecture as a kid. Probably as much as I love learning about art. When I was in high school, I was convinced I was going to become an architect. When we went to look at schools and my junior year before applying, we only looked at architecture programs. Ultimately I decided against that. And even though I don't design structures, one of my favorite things to do to this day is visit and tour beautiful and interesting buildings. I constantly think about how we enter an experience space, how it impacts our lives and how the material and scale of what is around us shifts our perspective and perception. It's why I work in installation so often. It bridges the gap between art and my interest in space. The contemporary art world doesn't always consider artists and architects in the same category. But I think it's special and important that the National Academy has maintained this combination and it continues to bridge gaps of experience or understanding between these fields. When I reached out to Michael Matzan awhile ago, we had a long phone conversation. He's an architect based in Los Angeles and I was excited to hear that he was interested in speaking with an artist. He spoke about the influence of many different artists on him as he developed as a young architect. One of the artists he mentioned is our other guests for this episode, Mary Miss. Mary Miss is an artist who straddles definitions. She works in what she referred to in this conversation as "the expanded field". It was lovely to see them explore some of the undefined space between what they do, or rather who they are defined as, artist and architect, and find so much common ground and how they see the world. They both make work in public space, which comes with its own set of issues, concerns, impossibilities, they discuss time, scale, and permanence, and how these variables affect their process. And I have to say they have some of the most soothing, radio friendly voices we've had yet. So I hope you enjoy this conversation as much as I did.

Michael Maltzan: 4:21

My name is Michael Matzan and I'm in my studio in the Silver Lake area, uh, in Los Angeles.

Mary Miss: 4:31

I'm Mary miss. And I'm in my studio in, what is called, Tribeca in New York City. Uh, when I first moved here, it was just downtown Manhattan.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 4:45

So, I reached out to you, Michael, um, and you had a list of artists. Um, and we talked about the interesting, sort of, crossovers between art and architecture. And you selected Mary is one of the artists you were interest in talking to.

Michael Maltzan: 4:58

Absolutely.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 4:58

So, can you start with telling us a little bit about why?

Michael Maltzan: 5:02

Well, I've been a long time admirer of Mary's work. But that really started when I was in architecture school and was starting to look at what role architecture had. How, how would I connect to architecture? And I was in art school at the time. I was at a RISD, at Rhode Island School of Design, which probably gave me a wider lens to look at architecture through. Definitely through a number of other forms of art. But what really struck me was, that, that was a time when there was a real fight in architecture around very formal ideas in architecture about modernism and post-modernism and what was going to win and what would the future of architecture was going to be. And I didn't feel necessarily all that close or all that aligned with either of those sides of the debate. I was looking for something else. And I remember seeing Mary's work. And the work struck me because it seemed to ask a lot of questions that may be related to architecture but were clearly not solely about architecture. They were coming from someplace else. And I think that idea that something, a form of art, a piece of work, can force you to ask questions that you're not completely sure how to answer on your own, is a very valuable thing. Especially for a younger designer or architect or artists. So my, my beginnings, looking at, at Mary's work, my interest was, was really that her work I felt like kept provoking questions that I couldn't quite answer. Which means you always come back to it

Mary Miss: 7:00

As you speak, it makes me think about how I ended up in the territory that I ended up in as a young artist. Why I drifted towards this interest in the build environment. You know, I had no connections to architecture. It wasn't something that I thought about as a discipline. As a young artist, when I was first starting out, I was making these, kind of, very modest more object like pieces made with string or canvas or wire mesh. And that was starting in the late sixties. And as I got into the seventies, I was really trying to imagine and think more about how anybody who came to the work of art related to it. And there were things with the minimalists that interested me, Robert Morris, Donald Judd, that were a lot of things that didn't interest me. But what did catch my attention was this focus on the person who's interacting with the art and making it necessary for that person to really pay attention and look and try and take in rather than having a story put right in front of them. Also, I had moved to New York in the late sixties and began to meet a number of young women. And this kind of burgeoning movement of women artists who wanted some visibility. And people were getting together. But it really made me want to continue to think about the relationship between the viewer and whatever it is that I was making. And I think those ideas that were very prevalent at that time in that period of trying to find different ways of speaking, of being seen, of being a present, of engagement, provoked me to this. To step out into the world, so to speak. Rather than staying close to the object. Not, not that any of the things I was making were particularly object like. They were kind of, I was stripping them down. They were becoming very ephemeral. But I think this idea of taking boundaries down was something that was really important at the time. As we were, as this group of feisty young women who were trying to find a place for themselves in the world. It, reconstructing, I feel like the word deconstruction or deconstructivism was used at the wrong time, actually. Because I think that's, that's, the seventies were really about taking things apart and putting them back together again. But there was also the interest that I had in the landscape from growing up in the west and kind of being so enveloping by the landscape. Uh, even though I had moved to New York, I, that was something that was, I was really thinking about a lot. It's thing of being in the back of a car, you know, traveling through a landscape where a city or a town comes up. But then it disappears and then something else comes up and it disappears. So that's how I ended up in this territory that bumps up against your territory.

Michael Maltzan: 10:39

I'm really interested and really struck by, you were talking about putting the viewer into the equation, if you will. That a person coming and, um, seeing the work somehow gets pulled into a more active relationship, and really even a role in, in the work. And I think that has a great deal to do with what struck me about your work. Especially at the time, I was really interested in, in ideas about the city. And how you would design in the city. And most of the models, as I mentioned, were either modernist models or postmodernist models. Which were all about creating a, a highly formal, in a way, almost intellectual structure for the city. The postmodernists we're interested in recreating the kind of classical boulevards and plazas and piazza's and important temple structures, if you will, through the city, throughout the city. And the modernists were, um, interested, in no less a way, and, and also a kind of formal way of creating a set of ordering principles for the city. And I thought that the piece that was missing was exactly how you describe it. It was the, whether it's the audience or the viewer or the participant in that equation, how do you put somebody back in the city and design for them in a way, and try to figure out a way to approach designing and the city, that centers around their experience. As opposed to a very formal drawing or mapping of the city. And I was struck by, at the time, your project in Battery Park in the landfill. Because the way that those different planes stack up on the landscape, with the whole through it, they seem to be a kind of barometer for the topography and, um, the, the landscape itself. And I always imagined that the important piece there was, as somebody moved around that sculpture, that the way they perceived the change of, uh, land and slope and one layer of wooden structure, a gateway to the other, or the way the aperture is the holes either lined up or started to pull off of each other, that, that, that was exactly a clue to how somebody, that you could create a form and you could create a powerful space around it, but you didn't necessarily have to control it all. There was room for, for the audience or the viewer to really be a part of that. I don't know if that's completely related to what you were thinking at the time. But I'd be curious to, um, hear a little bit more about that.

Mary Miss: 13:41

I say that that project was really eye opening for me, so to speak, uh, after I've made it. Uh, I really loved that it was so flimsy, you know? And as you walked into the area of the gate that allowed you into this landfill area, all you could see was from the side, you know, these flimsy boards, 50 feet apart. And it wasn't until you got to stand in front of them that all of a sudden, you know, column of air descending into the ground or this, you know, this project crystallized. So, I loved the movement of it. And I have to say the movement has always really been important. It's like a key thing in almost everything I've been doing up till present time. That interaction that you have with the project. I have to say that I almost don't care what things look like. I never was setting out to make something that looked like something, uh, a, a monument. It was the experience that I wanted to construct. And I think that project particularly crystallized for me the importance of constructing an experience that surprise when you got to the front of this and saw that this thing had materialized,

Michael Maltzan: 15:13

I think that's maybe one of the reasons why, as an architect, I've like a lot of architects, been attracted to your work. But also perplexed in a way. That idea that you didn't want it to look like something, that wasn't the main ambition. Because, as architects, I think we're always trying to read into it and create relationships to other forms and histories and, uh, formal ideas that look like something. Because in architecture, of course, you're often, whether you're looking to recognize or be more connected to architectural history or not, it's implicit in the work. It's implicit in the discipline. And so, you're often making references to architectural forms that have come before. And it felt like you were touching on it. I always felt like this is somehow connected to some image or some idea or some culture of making. But I couldn't ever quite figure it out. It was always a little bit enigmatic. And so that idea that you're more focused on almost the effect and the, um, the space that gets created, the interaction that gets created, than the thing itself, I think is, is very interesting. But it seems like it's also a bit antithetical, quite radical, in sculptural practice. Where a sculpture often is a more singular, historically, a more singular object that's meant to refer to something. Either in a very figurative way or at least in an abstract way meant to, uh, refer to something.

Mary Miss: 16:58

I think it was going in the opposite direction. And I've always thought of myself as the anti monument maker or monolith maker, you know? It just, I was looking for a different way to be in the world, so to speak. You know, when you say that there didn't seem to be direct models for the work, that's not totally true because I looked at so many things. I have behind me, an array of books that I've been collecting over the past decades. And I love looking at and reading about things. But it was the experience within things. There was a wonderful book I read, I can't remember the guy's name, a British guy who was later recognized to be a spy, that's on the Alhambra. And I loved this book because it was describing that, you know, movement through the Alhambra. And, and I've never been there still, but this remains, you know, one of my great pleasures, to reflect on that experience that was involved in that. So, you know, I was looking a lot, so there were, it's not like there aren't any references probably to other times or places or structures. But it's from a slightly different, it's not from the formal side of things.

Michael Maltzan: 18:24

I think somebody, you either said, or somebody wrote about your work at one point that, um, you were interested in making the invisible visible. And that struck me because I was curious whether that, in your mind, was a physical idea or was the invisible a kind of psychological idea for the audience? Or, or, or neither? I mean, I was thinking about a number of your piece, the pieces that were underground that you only discovered when you finally came up to them and you realize there's, there's a room or a world underneath, underneath the ground. Did you think about that in one way or the other? Because in architecture often, we're, we're dealing with very separate ideas about the exterior and then the interior. And they have different perceptions and different roles, different relationships, different meansings.

Mary Miss: 19:17

I think that I like that idea of making the invisible visible. And I think it's about capturing a psychological or experiential or a couple of the pieces that have this underground element. There was a project early on at Oberlin College with, uh, you know, a wooden mesh that continues, seems to me to continue under the ground that you've just walked across. And there was only a seven foot opening in the ground where you see this grid. And it's trap-like. It looks like it's there to catch something. But then it also is making you question ground you've just walked across and that kind of comes up again at the later project, uh, Perimeters Pavilions Decoys, where there's an underground structure as part of a four acre, seven acre, I can't remember complex, you know, you're going back into this space underneath the surface of the ground. You can't tell where it ends. You look through apertures in a wall and there's dark space. But you can't tell how far that space is been excavated. So that questioning of boundaries. And then there were these three tower-like structures and the lower field. And they were all different sizes, but it was like kind of confusing. Is it because it's in the distance or it's because it's close? So that combination of physical, of having to walk through something, climbed down in, climb up into and psychological. How that engages you emotionally was interesting.

Michael Maltzan: 21:05

I was wondering, a couple of times, because we've, we've done, I've designed over the years, a number of exhibits, and in comparison to architecture normally they have a very short time span. They're up for four months or maybe six months. But we also did a building at one point reasonably early in my career for the Museum of Modern Art, because it was for their temporary headquarters in Queens. And it's an unusual thing in architecture to think about architecture being temporary. Because by its nature, it's normally all about being permanent or at least it pretends it's about being permanent in our culture. That's not always the case. But I was wondering about your work and how you thought about that because some of your work, even though it's, it was built. It was constructed. It was, I think, meant to be temporary. It was only going to be there for a certain amount of time. Did you approach that in really more, just a practical sense that, okay, that's the brief for the project or the sculpture? Or how much of that became part of your thinking, the concept of the piece?

Mary Miss: 22:16

So, I was so happy to be able to get to build something. And to have something that I was imagining materialize. That, oh, if it's up for a year that's great. Or, you know, six weeks at least I get to see it experience it. And yet I realized that it's so hard for people. Somebody was asking me about the perimeters pavilions piece recently. And they had no idea that there was this second wall. They'd looked at photographs but they just seen this hole in the ground. And, you know, you really had to be there to experience it to get a sense of what this work was like. And yet, at the time I just was so pleased to be able to have it materialize for a while. And the ambition to have something stay there longer than a short period of time, you know, was a nice idea. But there's always been this, for an artist to kind of come through the back door into a territory that's about building, it's very hard to find the support to be able to do that. So, I wasn't in those early days, I wasn't even going there, you know, thinking, oh, this could be a permanent work. I mean that, that was so far beyond the possibility. Because I was building all of these works myself, uh, you know, with a couple of people helping me. So, it was, uh, to be able to go out there and walk a space and figure it out and to dig the hole and, you know, have it happen. Uh, have it come to be real was, was something I, I was very pleased about. But I recognize the problems in looking back and trying to consider the work later.

Michael Maltzan: 24:10

Be interesting if a piece like perimeters was rebuilt, how the perceptions, you know, the, the culture has continued to move, um...

Mary Miss: 24:21

Nobody would let me do it because of ADA regulations.

Michael Maltzan: 24:25

Yeah, you'd have to put up... well definitely you'd have handrails up everywhere and an elevator, I'm sure.

Mary Miss: 24:32

I mean, that was really kind of the nice thing about this also is that, I mean, it's just building things. And, uh, you know, that takes me into this direction of, I really wanted to bake things that people could interact with, who had never, maybe been to a museum and knew anything about art. You know, how could I construct an experience for somebody that would be compelling in, without having that history? Uh, and so, you know, it was taking me into this, you know, strong interest in the public realm. And how to enter the public realm. And I have to say it's been a very difficult path in trying to do that. Because once you're on that track the interactions with the authorities and the rules and everything, the budgets, has made for you know, a very, kind of strange path that I've ended up taking. Which has involved many years of making proposals for things that don't happen.

Michael Maltzan: 25:48

Right. Well that, that's not something I'm unfamiliar with, as well. That, the life, the life of an architect, as well. Um, but that challenge of having to deal with, in a way, the, this whole other layer of legal requirements and code requirements, they are very real. And you often have a choice. You can either try to fight it in some way, um, and work through it and work around it. That's almost always unsuccessful. Or you can engage it in a way that it becomes more fully a part of your practice. And I think is something that's taken me while. Maybe it's maturity. But, uh, it's taken me a while to, um, start to almost, um, rethink or reposition that challenge in my mind. Like, when we go into a project and you know that you're trying to do something that's going to be very difficult, um, that there isn't a clear pathway from a code standpoint, for instance, can you make that a part of the process as well? Not just the design. Not just the aesthetic and the formal part of the design. But can the action and the activity of the architect to spend a lot of time talking to the officials and working to evolve what is possible in their minds so that you have a little bit more of a pathway. You open up a little bit more of a pathway to get closer to what you're trying to do, is become something that's, that's over the years a lot more interesting for me. Because it is actually, I think it's almost a kind of political action or political activity. Or at least I tell myself it is. Because it, it has an impact, not only on your project. The project you're doing. But if you do open the window a bit more, than often it creates a wider set of opportunities for other architects to, um, to walk through in the future. So that, uh, that's not traditionally design activity. It's not really aesthetic activity. It's not the things that, that often you think of as being the, um, either the primary or the most ennobled part of and architect's work. But, more and more, I think given how complex the world continues to be, to try to actually make things in the world and to build things that that kind of activity, that kind of action, is, is essential. It's really important.

Mary Miss: 28:37

You know, as we're talking, I'm thinking, I'm really seeing myself, or thinking about myself, in terms of the relationship to architecture as backing into something that I had no sense of, you know, it's not like I was desiring this. I had this exchange once with Peter Eisenman where he said, oh, Mary, you're just trying to be an architect. And. I said, no, Peter, I don't want to have to worry about where bathrooms go. Which, you know, neither did he, of course. But, uh, I had no desire to, kind of, enter that territory. But, you know, going back to that early work, there was this, uh, essay that was written called Sculpture - the Expanded Field. And that title really expressed where I wanted to be. That sense of engagement that had interested me so much. This desire to create places of engagement, meant that I wanted to be out in the world. I wanted to see artists, not as the monument makers, not as the monolith creators, not as the commentators on the culture in the Warhol-Deschamps, whoever, tradition. But really as participants and being able to shape the culture. And I really see those years of trying to get things built almost as, you know, a fool's errand. You know, trying to enter the public realm. And finally around the turn of the century, I lived downtown in Manhattan, and just a few blocks from the Trade Center. And to after that event, my studio was covered with dust and we cleaned it up. And in the studio, there was this terrible situation where hordes of people, crowds of people were coming, first to 14th Street and then to Houston Street and then down to Worth. And then Chambers. The fences were being moved south for, you know, who could enter an area who didn't live there. But there were all these people coming. And, in the studio, we decided to think of how we could make a temporary memorial. And came up with something that was never done, once again. But it was about trying to take the elements that were there, the fencing, the barriers, and create a way that a kind of wreath could be created around the edge of the site by replacing jersey barriers and the usual police barriers with these elements made of pipes that were open at the top that people could leave flowers. And there were several things that were really important to me in thinking of this project. One was that, how could you transform people from being voyeurs into being mourners? Which was, like, something that was so badly needed. I hated it when they did that ramp that allowed people to go and look out over the site. Because it was the ultimate voyeur kind of, uh, experience. But I loved this idea, that these people who were really coming with great sympathy and, you know, just by allowing them to come in a different way, it would change the whole experience, to come as a morner, not just as the person who wants to see the scene of the crime. Um, the other thing was working in my own city, uh, you know, I was being asked to do things, various places all around. And I realized how important that was. And this idea that, with something quite modest, you could change the story. You could change the dialogue. And number of projects I worked on in the early part, know the first decade of the century, uh, you know, took me more and more in that direction. And I did a project in Boulder where I put up, uh, about 300 markers, six inch diameter, blue disks to mark the predicted flood level of Boulder. And, which is at the mouth of the canyon and it's very vulnerable. And it was something that allowed people to relate to this in a way that was direct because they were measuring against their own bodies. That the flood would be ankle high here, but 18 feet up, you know, the water would be 18 feet deep in this other area because you see the constant level. But, you know, the contour of the ground. Anyway, this has all led me to this kind of strange position that I'm in now of having a nonprofit where we're trying to do urban scale projects that involve multiple artists in, uh, addressing issues at the scale of the city. But very directly, neighborhoods working on the streets, uh, with communities. Um, so I'm kind of trying to explain to myself here, how I've ended up where I am today. Which is slightly mysterious doing fundraising events and uh...

Michael Maltzan: 34:36

I was curious about that. Because it did seem like I, you know, I've been hearing about the, um, it's the city is Living Laboratory, uh, right? And, um, that seemed like it was a project that, on the one hand was about very concrete things. But under it all, it seems like it is about a kind of action or activism. And it's different in a way than the physical sculptural work. But the effect of what you're doing and how it could work on people by creating a kind of awareness or a deeper understanding of things, does seem related. But I was also curious about whether there was a generational difference in who seems most interested in, in this project that you're doing. Um, the Laboratory Project. Or is there no difference? Um, because it strikes me that there are, certainly in architecture, generational differences in terms of who maybe has a stronger predilection towards architecture as, as building and form. And, potentially, a younger generation of architects, who are really motivated by action and engagement and discourse. That's too broad a brush, I think. But I, I was curious if you were finding some of those differences in your work? And how does it, you know, how does it feel to be doing something which is really about a kind of activity and isn't necessarily about, about making a physical form?

Mary Miss: 36:19

Well, I have to say that probably I did the project in, uh, with the underground chamber Perimeters Pavilions in the late seventies. And I think Rosalind Krause's essay came out, maybe in 1980, something like that. And, you know, as I said, that expanded field was the territory that I was really very enthusiastically embracing. And, you know, I was just kind of surprised that it was being acknowledged. But pretty much after that, I was outside of the art context because I was, who knows all the reasons why. But I think mainly because I was in this expanded territory rather than in territory. That was more familiar to those in an art context. But it's not necessarily that I went into an architecture family, or it's just got this, like, in-between zone that, that I've been thinking about and working in. There are these very consistent things that, you know, are in my own head that I've been thinking about. This relationship between the built and the natural environment. The collision is how I would have described it early on. But as this new century started, and it became apparent that we were in a very critical situation, this kind of abstract discussion about that relationship wasn't enough. You know, just kind of pointing at it. And I think that's one of the things that really moved me to want to talk to more scientists, to find out what's happening. I've always loved collaborating and working with others. And so I started talking to a lot of people. And so that's what's kind of moved me in this direction. I don't think of myself as having abandoned making things. I'm trying to do a project in Milwaukee now that I've been working on since 2014. Let's say I'm doing things at a very slow pace. I am, I am to art-making what slow cooking is to food. And it's so interesting to me there because I really have liked for a long time, the idea of repurposing structures. And I went to Milwaukee and I'd worked there maybe a decade before. And somebody said, could you come to Milwaukee and do a project about water? You've addressed water and a lot of your work. And I met this man, who's the head of the municipal sewer district, who's quite a remarkable character. And he said, it's really important that you think of this at an urban scale. And at the same time I'm talking to, you know, scientists are saying, we can't just do things at a small scale. We have to really work at scale. And then I showed this man, the project I had proposed in Queens where the stacks of the power plant there, I was converting into barometers to, to look at how we're doing what the recycling of our waste and water and everything. And he said, oh, you could use the stack at our water treatment plant. And it's this iconic stack at the edge of Lake Michigan. And so, that was the start of thinking about, with no money being, being offered, taking on this idea of doing an urban scale project about water. And coming up with a conceptual framework of how we could do an Atlas of water for the city. So, uh, to me, it's not as though I've abandoned making things. I don't, I certainly don't get such direct or immediate pleasure of saying, oh, I just completed a work, you know?

Michael Maltzan: 40:33

Right, right. I, um, years ago, somebody said to me that, an architect said to me that, um, they had done the calculation. And that every important architectural work, at least in their mind, had taken 12 years. And I was, as a younger architect, that was just crushing. Because I thought, I don't, that's too long. I'm way too impatient for that. Uh, so I put that in the back of my mind. And then a number of years later, I was in, at an event, a conference in Italy, and actually Peter Eisenman was in an interview with Kurt Forrester. And they were talking and, uh, Peter had shown his project, um, in Spain and Kurt Forrester had said something to the effect of, you know, it took a really long time. And Peter had said, yeah, he said, you know, all of my projects, my best projects take 12 years. And I just, it was like, I was like, wait a minute, is this like the cosmic, uh, reality for, for important or a good architectural projects, that they always take 12 years. And I didn't want to believe it. But as I have continued on, I'm starting to realize that there probably is a reasonable average for anything that's ambitious. Um, so you have to have...

Mary Miss: 41:54

Well, you're giving me a good number to aim towards.

Michael Maltzan: 41:56

There you go. There is, that's that's the magic, the magic number.

Mary Miss: 42:01

But, you know, I, as I think about this project, I mean, it's, it's really pretty consistent with the things I was thinking about when I was starting out so long ago. You know, there isn't the singular big object. There isn't the, you know, that grand statement. It's if in so many of the, whether they were those early object-like pieces I was making or the things that were embedded in the ground, there was always this sense of wanting to do something that's more like casting a net over something than in trying to plant the stake. Even though in the Milwaukee project, it involves kind of planting a stake in the ground in many different neighborhoods across the city. But the other thing is that, as I've been thinking about, you know, what it takes to create change, and I think as a young artist, I really wanted to change the way people would see themselves in the world. And that is the thing that I still would like people to be able to see themselves in relation to the invisible systems and infrastructure that support their lives. And I don't think, as a single person, I should or could do that. I really, with the City is Living Lab, we're really trying to put forward this idea of a constellation of artists addressing, you know, setting up a structure that allows a constellation of people, artists, and designers to take on an issue. Rather than just the, you know, icon at the crossroads or something spread in or across the place. So, that's the best story I can tell you about.

Michael Maltzan: 43:51

Yeah, well, I think that that's an especially timely, uh, idea and approach. Because it seems to me that, uh, what you were doing when you started, and doing a project like, um, Perimeters Pavilions in the late seventies, I was struck by you mentioning, um, Rosalind Cross' piece about the expanded field. Because that also was a, a piece that I was very, had a lot of influence on, on my thinking at the time. But it feels to me, and then with the City is Living as Living Lab, that in a lot of ways, your practice forecast where, really where we are right now in, in a number of different practices. Um, design and, and artistic practices, where the idea of the singular author working in isolation is much more challenging. Especially if you're looking, as a designer, to confront very challenging problems. And you are looking to affect some kind of change. The reality is often that you do need to cast that wider net. You do need to, in a way to be as much a orchestra leader or a conductor, as you need to be again, more singular author. Those things are important and I think they underpinned a lot of one's position in the world. But that idea of, of really trying to weave a net of individuals together and choreograph that in some way. Or to help choreograph that in some way to really grow a much bigger capability, to effect change at a, at a cultural level, at a social level. At a city level, is a very, very timely way of thinking right now.

Mary Miss: 45:41

Well, I think, you know, it really comes out of a deep frustration, uh, in a way. Because, uh, so many times, as this artist who wanted to be in the public realm, and being, you know, swatted away, so to speak, but, with a budget or, uh, of whatever, I just have this really passion for this idea that visual thinkers, that artists that, whose territory is the imagination, have the ability to create change in a way that it's not appreciated. You know, I felt so undervalued, uh, as an artist in trying to, to be part of the public realm. And in a way I started City as a Living Lab as the way to insist that artists should have an essential role in trying to imagine our future. Because that's the only thing we have now, is the, uh, you know, we're in too many tight spots. It's a, it's not looking good. And the only way it's going to look any better is by not only singular artists, but trying to engage others into help and helping them to imagine a future of sustenance, of creating a path forward that makes sense in their own neighborhoods, homes, places that they're living.

Michael Maltzan: 47:06

I've come to increasingly believe that, we've grown a culture of extraordinary specialization and specialties that, if you look around many of the disciplines out there, have become disciplines where the more and more refined and more tightly defined specialization is grown into something or where that's the most value. And of course, if you know, if somebody's going to do brain surgery on me, I, I hope they have a really strong specialty in that. But when you're looking at the kinds of range of problems and the interconnection between those problems that I think you're touching on, it almost demands a different type of ability to see those problems and to act on those problems. It takes in a way, uh, I keep thinking, uh, um, an extraordinary generalist. And that feels to me like what you're touching on with the Living Lab project, that ability, or then the necessary intelligences and expertises and, um, understandings of, of these complex problems, is likely going to come from not one individual, but from a group. And, you know, who's able to see the breadth of the problem or to identify who could be a part of that, at least some approach to the solution. And to then instigate that, to choreograph that. And it does seem to me that, that art practice, design practice, fundamentally has that, it has that ability. It's very deeply rooted in, in the histories of those practices. Which would speak to the need for designers and artists to be actively engaged in exactly the kinds of, uh, challenges and change that you're talking about.

Mary Miss: 49:11

I think that we have a couple of things going for us. One is that we're very good at taking on complexity. And that's what we're confronted with right now. Whether we're talking about, you know, social situations, environmental situations, it is so complex. And I really have the bias, any way, of believing that artists, and I use artists in a very broad way, have the ability to take on complexity. That's, that's our specialty, in a way. And the other thing is that we're offering a way to connect to things, experientially, going back to that engagement that's been so important to me all along. So, that it's no longer a transfer of information, which is never going to work, telling people all the good reasons why they should change their behavior. There has to be some kind of direct experience that allows them to relate to that in a way that can connect to them emotionally. Otherwise change, you know, doesn't happen. So we aren't the only people who can help create change. But I think we are essential to that, you know, group of educators, policy makers, scientists, people who look at history, you know, not just that role of the icing on the cake that comes in after the fact,

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 50:41

I was just going to say, I, I almost hate to come in and interrupt. Because I love where the conversation is going. I wholeheartedly agree with artist's ability to affect change and how you're expressing that I think is, uh, yeah, it really touches on, well, one, I also think you guys kept it, I started to formulate questions. And you guys kept answering the questions I had. So I was like, I'll just let them keep talking. They'll just answer all my questions. But I think one of the things that was really interesting in where this conversation came to in terms of this sort of, ability to have this larger effect on, like, culture and social structures and sort of these larger complex issues we're facing as society and as the world, um, there were a few things, Mary, as you were talking about, like, how you came to butt up against architecture. And a few of the things that stood out to me were scale, permanence and pace. And how those things kind of grew or, like, changed in your practice. And how those are things that are of deep consideration in a different way maybe an architecture than in some sort of traditional art forms. But I'm curious about that bridge between, um, architecture and these traditionally understood, uh, fine art practices of, like, in architecture, Michael, and the way you're formulating ideas and creating your projects, do you find that these, um, ideas of scale and permanence and pace and this like 12 year idea, which I think to anybody who has, like, a traditional, like, painting studio practice is, like, an intimidating, those are all intimidating things to come up against. To the think of like a painting taking 12 years. Or needing to be, have permanent or anything like that. Are there elements in your own practice that completely push aside those very large ideas and allow you to work in a way that is temporary or, you know, faster paced? Or like how, how does that bridge kind of go back the other way for you? Whereas we kind of talked about how it has grown for Mary in her practice.

Michael Maltzan: 52:42

For me, I think it's having a range of, and being fortunate enough to have a range of, different types of projects and scales of projects. And we also, here, you know, I'm constantly trying to balance the types of projects, as best as you can, of course. Because you're always at some level at the mercy of, of luck in what kinds of projects come your way. But I think having a range of projects in scale and type helps with that. I mentioned at the beginning that we do a certain amount of exhibition design. We're about to open a exhibition that we designed here in Los Angeles at LACMA, at the county museum, for a show around Alexander McQueen's work. Both the things he made. But just as importantly, drawing from the museum's collection to talk about his inspirations. Which were hugely part of, important part of his process. Um, those kinds of projects happen more quickly, of course. And they are temporary. They allow you to explore ideas. And to do it in a, um, without the same kind of heaviness of responsibility that a building often is, is freighted with. Because it will come down. It's up for a very specific period of time. If, you're often using materials that are more temporary materials. Which sometimes gives you more flexibility. So, it's, it's almost a kind of project that, I think of it as being parallel to our traditional architectural work. That it's related. The ideas come from a similar place. But the actual physical reality of it has more of a lightness to it. And that's really useful because in the midst of those really long-term projects, you need those quicker hits at times, um, I think to keep you, keep you motivated.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 54:54

Yeah. I can't imagine that only having every 12 years something complete wouldn't satisfy the, amount of...

Michael Maltzan: 55:01

You, you need a lot of twelve-year projects. You need 12 of them. So every, staggered, so every year something new happens. But it never quite works that way.

Mary Miss: 55:12

I have to say, somebody asked me to propose something recently. Oh, it's so much fun. I'm so glad to be able to work on something that might happen sooner rather than later.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 55:26

And for you, Mary, you know, you spoke a little bit about sort of like this scaling up of some projects being like city, you know, the Milwaukee one being like a citywide, um, thinking about that. And so, I'm curious about the, uh, I mean, you spoke a bit about some of these, like the process and challenges. But in how it affects your, like, greater practice as an artist, conceptualizing these products that are large scale, do you also feel like you need to work on short term things in the meantime? Or how do you balance that for you?

Mary Miss: 55:56

You know, I've been doing this for a little more than a decade now. And it's taken all my energy to make this happen. You know, it's, uh, I work with some wonderful people who are helping to make this happen. And there's been not very much balancing it in the other direction. But to be able to think of this, the corridor of Broadway in New York City as being the corridor where we could see new ways of living in the city. Or being able to think of the project in Milwaukee and this atlas of water at the scale of the city. So those are these kind of big conceptual framings that I've been able to do during this period. But the, you know, I kind of wish there was a little more of the lighter lifts, so to speak that were in the mix than there are at this point.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 56:56

Yeah. I feel like that idea also echoes maybe how, um, as we, you guys just sort of came back to this idea of sort of like larger social change, how maybe people feel in general, like everybody wishes, we had some lighter lifts. There's so many large, like, ideas and issues and complexities, you know, that you spoke about happening, that I think just in life, it's easier to sort of balance things out with some lighter lifts.

Mary Miss: 57:18

Yeah. I have to say that, you know, I have that wish that, uh, I was spending a little bit more time on some things that were easier to, to accomplish or would happen faster. But then on the other hand, You know, I've had a really many wonderful opportunities and decades of work that I've been able to do. And so it's not such a bad thing that I kind of make this shift at this point in my time.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 57:47

So I mentioned one of the things I'm curious about with everybody on the podcast is your thoughts on being a part of the National Academy, at the heart of this collective of artists and architects. I'm particularly happy to have a conversation with both an artist and architect. And you know, how you guys sort of like blur in and sort of interact within those lines anyway. But what your thoughts are being a part of the National Academy, uh...

Mary Miss: 58:12

I think I've expressed to you the, you know, this sense that architects have been drawn to the Academy, much more strongly than artists have. Maybe until recent years where it's become a more active place for artists. But I think this possibility of meeting you, Michael, and having a chance to talk, I've really enjoyed this. Hearing Marlon talk about, marlon, uh, Blackwell, talking about his work, you know, was really so interesting. So, I think the programs that are able to happen or that I'm able to participate in are the things that make it really valuable for me.

Michael Maltzan: 59:01

And as a newer member, I think I'm just beginning to be more active and participate with the Academy. What struck me was, and it goes back a little bit. I was mentioning that I had my undergraduate degree. Or I think, Adrianne, you had mentioned in the introduction that my undergraduate degree was at, um, from Rhode Island School of Design. I was back there recently and it really it made me remember that there aren't that many places where a group of individuals across many different disciplines are somehow connected around a common idea. Which is creating things in the world. Whether that's physical things or ideas. And that, it seems to me that the power of that kind of collective is unique and exciting. And the more that it feels to me, these kinds of programs can take place, or maybe even more importantly, that there's opportunities to connect the people in the Academy, um, the members of the Academy, you start building that culture. And that's something that is, you know, it's a very exciting idea to, um, very invigorating idea to be, to be a part of. Especially at a time when, it feels like it's so difficult to create those connections. We're all so pulled in, pulled apart in so many different ways. So, having a collective whose interest is in producing creative things, that's, uh, again, I think that's unique and, and very powerful for this time.

Mary Miss: 1:00:56

I, I think there's something about this time and the Academy that's really important. You're looking, you know, you've moved out of the space that you were in for so long. And going to a new place to establish yourselves. And I really valued this conversation we've had today, Michael You've had me looking at, back at myself and, you know, reflecting on this path that I've been on. I've really enjoyed this exchange. And I think having a place where conversations like this can happen is so important. But I would also say that there's the very idea of an Academy has come to be a place that's set off from other places. And I think it would be really important at this point to think about how the doors can be opened more. That we can have these conversations. But that they impact could spread further. Or that other voices are brought in. You know, I just, I think that there are such resources within the Academy. The individuals who are part of this. And how can their impact, how can their work, how can their thinking spread more widely?

Michael Maltzan: 1:02:27

I couldn't agree more. I think that working to create a, a new evolved form of the Academy and what that means, in a contemporary way, is really one of the ways that it seems to me that the Academy has the opportunity to, to lead. Um, to represent, uh, a new form in culture.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 1:02:52

I mean, I couldn't be happier to hear you guys say that. Cause that's the hope of the, you know, the direction that we're trying to take now. And I I'm realizing, I was going to say, I know that Michael and I talked about this, but I'm remembering that, Mary, you and I think at that end of the table with, um, Marlin at that dinner, also talked about this idea of, yeah, this, uh, access to this incredible collective of artists, through mentorship and sort of re-imagining what that educational model was at the Academy previously in the old building. But what can that look like now. And how do we make the model, um, flexible enough to really make sure that our academicians are able to participate in this way that continues their impact in a wider way. But, um, helps to sort of cement legacy and allow people access, um, who might not otherwise through traditional educational models have to these incredible creative minds and, um, makers. Yeah. All of these things are what the hope is, uh, to continue. And, and why we, I continue to ask for feedback from academicians. To understand you guys want to be involved in how you want this? Cause this is a organization started by artists and architects. And the idea is to sort of steward it through the ideas and the passions of the members. So, uh, thank you guys for participating in this. And...

Mary Miss: 1:04:11

I just think of the Academy, you know, it's like, okay, uh, can you get into that school when you're thinking about where you're going to go to college? Can I get in or then it's, you're a practitioner. Oh, will I be invited to this Academy? Everything's about getting in. And maybe we can be thinking about how to get out

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 1:04:32

Exactly. How to break, open the structure. 100% agree with that. Um, but, and I will continue to call upon you guys for ideas and I will, um, continue to sort of find ways for the Academy to break open as we, you know, move into new space and figure out sort of the logistics of what it means to be in this, this new phase of the academy. But thank you guys for joining. Um, I'm so glad that we were able to make this happen. I wanted to also say, Mary, I don't know if you know that Michael's going to be in town in New York in a couple of weeks. A week? Two weeks?

Michael Maltzan: 1:05:06

I think it's like a week and a half. It's not next week. It's the week after.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 1:05:09

Right.

Michael Maltzan: 1:05:09

Uh, to give a talk at the, um, Architecture Week, uh, at Cooper.

Mary Miss: 1:05:14

I'm always so surprised now when I see people I've met only on zoom when I see them in person.

Michael Maltzan: 1:05:21

It's definitely the new, the new phenomena. We, when lockdown happened and, you know, we were continuing to move along. Um, we actually, there were a few people that were hired in the office during that time. And one of the people we hired, I for, I dunno, nine months, I had only seen on Zoom. Because those people were working remotely as well. And then we started to migrate back to work. And I met him in the office for the first time and he was giant. He was, it just seemed, like, I couldn't, I couldn't believe it. It's like we had hired somebody from the NBA or something. Totally startling. So, uh, it is different.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 1:06:08

Well, I'm glad we'll be able to break the digital world soon. Anjelic and I already have our tickets to the talk. So we'll see you there, Michael. And Mary. I hope you can join.

Michael Maltzan: 1:06:17

Great. Great.

Mary Miss: 1:06:18

Thanks for hosting us Adrienne.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 1:06:20

Absolutely.

Michael Maltzan: 1:06:21

Yeah. Mary, if nothing else, um, I'll, let's figure out a way at some point soon to actually see each other in person. I'd really look forward to that.

Mary Miss: 1:06:29

Yes, I would like that that would be really great.

Michael Maltzan: 1:06:32

Alright.

Mary Miss: 1:06:33

Buh-bye.

Michael Maltzan: 1:06:33

Bye.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 1:06:34

Alright, bye everybody.

Mary Miss: 1:06:35

Ok.

Michael Maltzan: 1:06:36

Great. Bye.

Adrienne Elise Tarver: 1:06:45

You're listening to these quiz at corpse podcast. I like when Mary said her art making is like slow cooking. That idea combined with what Michael said about it taking 12 years to complete an architecture project, is a nice antidote to the feeling or idea that things need to happen quickly. Especially when you recognize that these works, projects and public space, have the potential to affect social and cultural change. Some things that have great impact may need to happen slowly. Like the National Academy of Design, we're almost 200 years old and we're still a work in progress. It was an idea started by artists and architects that has gone through phases and iterations and is still evolving. It requires patience and openness to new perspectives to accommodate the shifting landscape of contemporary artists and architects. We're so glad you've joined us for season two of the Exquisite Corpse podcast. If you haven't listened to season one, we've got some great early episodes for you to enjoy. From last season to now, we went through a lot of changes at the National Academy. And by next season, we're going to have a lot more. We have some exciting plans and look forward to sharing them with you all. Stay tuned for season three coming this fall. Visit our website, National Academy.org to join our mailing list for updates on what's coming next. Season two has been really fun for us. We welcome your feedback, thoughts, and ideas. You can send an email to info@nationalacademy.org or find us on Instagram. Our handle is national academy, N A T L A C A D E M Y. Please subscribe like and rate the podcast on your favorite streaming platforms. But most importantly, if you like what you hear, leave us a review. It really helps get the word out. See you next season. Thank you for listening to Exquisite Corpse. From the national Academy of Design. We are a 5 0 1 C3 nonprofit organization dedicated to promoting art and architecture. And we rely on your support to make programs like this possible. To learn more and to donate, visit National Academy dot org. This conversation was recorded on April 14th, 2022 with the help of Anjelic Owen's, Programs Assistant at the National Academy. Exquisite Corpse is produced mixed and edited by Mike Clemow and Wade Strange at SeeThru Sound.