Review Essay

Art school. The stigma attached to those two words when I told my worried parents, my confused friends and my unsure self that I was definitely transferring from a competitive state university to Columbia College, a private art school in downtown Chicago was obvious. My parents wondered why I was trading an “impressive” diploma and the future of a comfortable, entry –level position in cubicle-land for a major, graphic design, that I could I always do as a hobby…or go to school for later, as in “after-I-had-a-real-job” later. My friends couldn’t see me missing “Thirsty Thursdays” or football games to spend time with hippies in art galleries and coffee shops. And I was doubtful that Columbia, for many reasons, would be the right place for me. But. On my first day as an official “art student” (gasp!), I was ready and hopeful for Columbia to be the best decision I’d ever made, and prove my parents, my friends, and myself wrong.

Teachers matter. The quality of the instruction, and spirit, interest, and motivation of the person standing in front of our desks makes a huge difference on what we take from that class. Yes, it’s possible to learn from an okay professor. Sure, we can manage a decent grade from the bad instructor. But, with an amazing teacher, a person who cares that her students are engaged and excited about her topic, we might leave that class with a passion for a new subject and a optimism towards our capabilities that we probably didn’t find with the boring, “I’m just here to move you along” professor.

At a recent Columbia event, I witnessed firsthand the impact that a special teacher had on her students. On a rainy night this spring, I attended the Vocal Jazz Ensemble and Jazz Pop Choir performances that took place in The Concert Hall of Columbia’s Music Center.

Taking my seat in the still brightly lit room, I noticed the red, blue, green, and yellow shirts sitting in the back row. Members of the Jazz Pop Choir sat giggling, chatting, and anxiously waiting to take the blue-spotlighted stage.

Shortly, the lights dimmed and the Vocal Jazz Ensemble members (six girls, four boys) appeared on stage from behind the curtains. While each singer clutched their own microphone, clear, upbeat, perfected vocals exploded from the speakers. During all of their songs, in which there always seemed to be a cute, flirty dialogue apparent in the men’s and women’s lyrics, the singers smiled, laughed, winked, snapped their fingers and swayed to the beat for the audience as the choir director bopped around in the aisle and the stage, beaming from ear to ear. The entertaining solos and animated gestures that were sprinkled throughout each song made this performance anything but a dull choir concert.

After a few full-length solo songs sung by “stand out” members from the groups, the Jazz Pop Choir swarmed the stage to impress me further. While clearly not as polished, or vocally stunning as the Vocal Jazz Ensemble(the group as a whole looked much younger than the Vocal Jazz Ensembl), the Jazz Pop Choir belted out songs like “We All Need Saving” (originally recorded by popular pop singer Jon McLaughlin), and “Swingin with the Saints,” a contemporary, playful take on the children’s song.

The singers were obviously the stars of the show, but my favorite performance that night was by the groups’ director. An exceedingly happy woman in a black pant suit that danced and joked around with her students on stage (once pretending to hide a microphone from a boy about to do a solo), reminded the soloists to “Take a bow!” mid-song, and gushed about her singers and instrumentalists during every break. She was so proud of her students, and by the end of the show, so was the audience. She also took a few moments to pitch the groups, and encourage anyone in the audience to see her after the show about joining next semester. “We’re looking for new folks,” she explained, “men, especially.”

The director’s spirit resonated through the Concert Hall for the entire show, in much of the same way her enthusiasm for music probably spilled out in her classes. Her familiarity and warm connection with her students was admirable, and certainly made the concert more entertaining, and probably makes her classes incredibly rewarding for her students. Without her presence, this performance would have been lacking. Columbia puts a great emphasis on finding “inventive faculty” that hope to be passionate teachers and mentors rather than simply talking heads in front of the podium. At this choir performance, and in most of my classes, I have found this goal to be successful.

Columbia is not only responsible for providing it’s students with inspiring teachers, it also promises “to educate students for creative occupations in diverse fields of the arts and media and to encourage awareness of their aesthetic relationship and the opportunity of professional choice among them.” What better way to expose students to the continually evolving art world, and introduce them to the limitless options that a person with an “artsy-fartsy degree” (thanks, Dad) has, than to have various exhibits showcasing different professional creators throughout the year.

In January, I was lucky enough to stumble into the Contemporary Museum of Photography (housed in Columbia’s 600 S. Michigan building), and was welcomed into the almost sunglasses-required brightly lit space by a smiling young woman who handed me a brochure for "The Transparent City," German photographer Michael Wolf's first American show. Soon, I shuffled to the closest print, and my boots joined the squeaking symphony of other slush and snow covered shoes meandering across the glossy wood floor.

Dangling from hopefully strong wall hooks, the exhibit was composed mostly of large-scale photographs that offered the viewer a zoomed-in look into the cubicles and apartments that make up so much of our city. From the vantage point at which the photographs are taken, either looking straight-across or occasionally looking down from a distance, it was almost as if the viewer was a spy into the lives of these nameless people. In one window, I was drawn to a man, who could have probably made a lot of money working as Santa Claus during the holiday season, sitting under his desk, tangled up in a pile of cords. (Where are the elves to help him with this mess, I wonder.) In another building, "grown-ups" wearing expensive suits played a round of mini golf. (I wondered if their bosses knew that they've constructed Pebble Beach in their conference room.) Around the corner, a woman slumped in front of her computer, holding her head in her hands. (I was worried about her, and wonder what has upset her.) Wolf's pieces pull the onlooker into moments we were never meant to be apart of. As I walked from print to print, the feeling that I'd unintentionally become a peeping-tom had set in, but it didn’t stop me from looking. I was then a detective/psychologist/creeper, in search of another person to observe, study, and probably make erroneous, but entertaining, assumptions about.

Students and other museum goers most likely appreciated the uniqueness of Wolf’s prints. He chose not to incorporate skylines; and instead his work was focused on the geometry/layout of the buildings, which seemed to just pile up on top of one another. We are taught at Columbia that a successful photographer/artist can produce an image that makes the viewer consider it in a way that he/she had never thought of it before. Wolf effectively showed us a world that we walked past everyday, but in a way we were not accustomed to seeing, and his creative achievement was meant to inspire students. Exposing us to Michael Wolf’s collection was meant to infuse us with a confidence in our own unique, interesting perspectives.

Later in the year, I stopped in at another exhibit on campus; “Critical Encounters: Topless USA” was located in the Columbia College Library. Though not as sizeable, refined in presentation, or as easy to locate as the photography show—“I’m not sure if it’s still here, but go through the stacks, and it might be on the left.” the reference desk worker admitted when I couldn’t find the exhibit on my own—it still demonstrated artistic endeavors/motivations that are not common or as popularized.

Located in a room labeled the “Library Classroom,” I saw one lonely 3D diorama sitting atop a wobbly table, “protected” by drooping black, velvet ropes. I scanned the room and noticed no other mildly obvious works that might be part of the show, and was confused; one piece does not an exhibit make! At first glance, the sculpture, carved out of rock and spattered with fake moss and clay-colored paint, entitled “The Agony of Gaia,” reminded me of the inside of my cousin’s frog aquarium. Not too impressive. Until I saw that the fake moss was actually resting atop a life-size Mother Earth, who laid in a fetal position, covering her face, while bulldozers ravaged her surface. I saw her exposed ribs, and her blood spurting out, due to “suffering the abuse of strip-mining” and “the devastation brought about by mountaintop removal and valley fills.” The artist, Jeff Chapman-Crane explained, “I believe that the earth is a living thing. I wanted to do a piece that conveyed the torment she must feel when she is abused in this way.”

I was about to leave the classroom, when I turned and finally could discern a framed painting hanging in the shadows. A richly colored, but sorrowful piece showing a man playing a violin to an empty valley rested on a wall of chipped paint, above stained carpet. I only realized it was apart of the exhibit when I read the tiny, crinkled paper taped next to it. Walking out of the room, I noticed three more non-spotlighted, mountaintop-ish themed paintings hanging above desks in “Laptop Land.”

Columbia’s intentions were good in this show—but its presentation was not. I can’t help but think how many aspiring curators at Columbia would have willingly brought some life to this show, because it definitely needed it. What was also glaringly odd to me was that I hadn’t been able to locate any “Topless USA” signage. I wasn’t even sure that those were the only pieces in the exhibit, but I didn’t have time to search in every dark corner or closet of the library.

Mountaintop removal in Kentucky is probably a totally obscure issue to art students in Chicago, if they hadn’t seen that exhibit (which, I think, unfortunately was pretty likely). But, Columbia’s decision to host the study, was meant to remind students that our creativity has unlimited uses. We can someday use our design or writing skills to craft McDonald’s ads, or we can devote our producing talents to making films about social or environmental topics (like mountaintop removal). Columbia College Chicago wanted its students to bear in mind that there are many avenues to express one’s self, even if some ways are not as obvious or popular as others. So, for those of us who might have imagined, at some point, that a degree in art meant we were only fated to live in a cardboard box, selling hair-dolls on the street, we can breathe easier.

Perhaps Columbia’s greatest desire for its graduates is that we leave this school being aware of the powerful position we can hold in our society. In fact, the school’s mission statement boasts that “Columbia’s intent is to educate students who will communicate creatively and shape the public’s perceptions of issues and events and who will author the culture of their times.” Quite a weighty and influential role we will soon have the chance to play! One show in particular this year aimed to stress this expectation; “If The Artists Ran The Media” debuted at the end of the fall semester in the C33 Gallery. During my visit to the “collective show of artists’ responses to the often slanted and biased media outlet: the news” it was clear the pieces were cloaked in angst. As the school’s static-y radio station was piped in from a corner of the room, I stopped in front of an old, hallowed-out television set. Inside sat an overweight couple stuffing crumpled newspapers and garbage into their mouths while a picture of a sports car hung over the dining room table. The artist, obviously irritated and disgusted by advertisements that promote material possessions, greed, excess, and lethargic attitudes, hoped that her piece would awaken a stoppage to our submission to consumerism, that only leaves us wanting more…and more…and more. Another watercolor artist, angered by the hypocrisy of the tobacco business, painted a glossy cigarette box. Yet, in the place where we might find the small, ineffective Surgeon General’s warning about the presence of carbon monoxide, we see the words “Camel, Cancer-Big, Fat, and Delicious.” Our society, it seems, is so entranced by shiny packaging and the cool “idea” of a product, we deny the fact that drugs, like cigarettes, are essentially killing us, and buy them anyway. The photography, poetry, painting, video, installation pieces and illustrations in this show were chosen because they defy the ideals that are typically presented in corporate-run, government-sponsored media campaigns. Columbia says that rather than be apart of this trend, remember that we as artists can, if we so choose, go against the traditional media channels, and use our creativity as a voice for truth and change.

Columbia College is not an art school where students sit in circles, drinking lattes from the indie coffee shop on the corner, complaining about the world’s flaws, but doing nothing about them. Instead, the school has created an environment where students are directed and inspired by intelligent staff in real-world settings who push us to “create change” with our work. We should leave Columbia feeling confident in our skills, and optimistic and excited about the many career possibilities we have ahead of us. We should feel that we were advised and taught well and that our teachers were our positive career and character role models, not just our graders. While I have encountered a few teachers here that seem to have lost (or never had) the desire to be any student’s inspiration or guide, I have spent time in enough amazing classrooms to feel that Columbia is doing a commendable job in recruiting educators that bring life to their subjects.

At Columbia, we are compelled to find what we love to do, and develop the skills to contribute to our medium’s place in history. To help us grow as artists, we must be exposed to other artists, and see that, yes, indeed, an artistic career is a very real, gratifying possibility. Within Columbia’s fresh, modern, unconventional, and atypical classroom experiences and campus events, we are constantly encouraged to use our creativity to make an impact in the “real-world” we will be entering after our time here.