The Institute for Humanitarian Art

Sometimes, the 2 hour commute to the North Cascades is just enough time to let an idea blossom:

I just found the most amazing organization, something that completely matches my interests and experiences. The Institute for Humanitarian Art is a non-profit based in NYC that builds partnerships between artists, international aid agencies/other NGOs, and the general public. Their capstone program is a unique artist residency with numerous organizations like Amnesty International, the World Wildlife Fund, Doctors without Borders, and the Peace Corps. Artists commit to a period, ranging from a month to a year, and divide their time between volunteering with a specific organization and pursuing art projects that reflect their experience and/or document that particular social/environmental/political issue. It’s very hands-on, like working at a HIV testing clinic in rural Africa or an organic shade-grown Starbucks coffee plantation. Since the Institute has a fairly prominent museum and gallery space, the artist is then guaranteed an exhibition about return. Sales are spilt 3 ways between the artist, the specific host organization, and the IHA. It’s a total win-win situation. IHA also makes a lot of their money through coffee-table-type books. The main mission of the IHA is to bring awareness of global issues like poverty, HIV/AIDS, environmental degradation, women’s rights, war, etc, etc…through various art mediums (photography, painting, sculpture, design, writing, video, etc, etc). There’s a great permanent collection at the museum, with an interpretive staff that facilitates tours as well as discussions/debates. I just love this idea of art being transformative and educational, of art with a purpose higher than material wealth. Obviously, I need to work for this organization.

I keep thinking ahead to life after college and this would be the absolute dream job. Except that it doesn’t exist yet. Seriously, I just made it up. Too bad huh, cause that’d be perfect for me. But I honestly believe that it doesn’t have to be some unattainable dream, or that I have to wait for someone else to do it first. What if this was what I did with my life?; create the Institute for Humanitarian Art. The more I look at my skills/talents/interests/initiative, of what I’ve done so far in my life and what I can potentially do, the less I’m sure that a life spent alone in a studio all day is my true path. Yes I love making my art projects, but I also love working and organizing people to pull of projects larger than anything I could ever create on my own. I think I have the vision, organization, and leadership to pull off something like this (or at least, get it going). I’m also keenly aware that I would have to surround myself with people of similar passion level, but with different skills (like grant writing or public policy). I just think this idea could be so huge- all of the elements are in place right now: social injustice in the world, artists looking for work, consumers looking for art (especially this “feel-good” type art they’d be purchasing), NGO’s looking for publicity and money. All I’m doing is rearranging the relationships and networks between these groups so that positive changes can be made at all levels. It’s unique, it hasn’t been done, and it has potential for so much good.

Is this even possible to create? Is this some naïve fantasy of an idealistic college student? My mind is racing with all the logistics of pulling something like this off during my life, but I think it could happen. Work small, one residency, one exhibition at a time, and then 25 years later, we’ve got a space in NYC. I think that all my skills as an interpreter/educator, all my experience working in committees, with administrators, with artists and students, all my future activities like Mali and interning in NYC…these all set the stage for knowing how to do this. The key is not that I have to create it by myself, but that I know who to work with, whom to ask, where to go. If anything I’ve learned about the real world, it’s all about who you know.

In any case, that was my musing from yesterday’s drive to work. It’s still fresh in my mind, still hopeful, but I’m afraid that it might fade through daunting logistics. I’m looking forward to chewing on this for awhile, to getting experiences that might make this idea more clear. I’m also realizing that I have an awesome opportunity as a senior to do this as a thesis. What if instead of a traditional senior show of paintings in a gallery, I created a real-world proposal that consisted of a business plan, graphic identity, publications, and website. Something I could use to approach, oh say, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and ask for a grant to start this up.

Phew. Anyway. I hope you enjoyed my brain-chatter. What an interesting summer it’s turned out to be. I look forward to hearing your thoughts. At the very least, it’s forcing me to think of my role as an artist, and indeed, a global citizen.

(photo from jamesnatchway.com)

The Devil Buys Pollock

I just returned from seeing "The Devil Wears Prada" and actually found it somewhat relevant to my life right now. In it, the main character basically sells her soul to her boss, fashion, and work. She sacrifices her relationships with friends and family, as well as her own integrity.

The more I get involved with the art world and start thinking ahead to possibly interning in NYC next summer, the more I'm scared of getting sucked into this system. Like the fashion world, the art scene can honestly be a little materialistic (at least the kind filled with big art stars floating from gallery opening to gallery opening, smoochzing with the elite). And I'm afraid that I'm ambitious enough to engage in that lifestyle if I so choose...that I'll lose sight of the real reasons I love being an artist.

I hope that living in a 3rd world country for a semester will help clarify my professional ambitions.

So if I ever end up throwing aside personal happiness and friendships for this "success," you all have permission to smack me upside the head.

Laughter's included in the meal

This afternoon, I had the great fortune of meeting up with Seattle artist and blogger extraordinaire, Carolyn Zick. She is a member of Shift Studio, where I sit once a month, and good friends with Pierre Gour and Garth Amundson (who are friends with Nick Tobier and Rebekah Modrak, professors at U of M. Got that?). That's just how the art world works. I love it.

Over fish tacos and limonades along Portage Bay, I chatted for two hours with the enthusiastic and easy-to-laugh Carolyn. One of the things I miss about school is just talking about art ALL THE TIME and it was so refreshing to go into deep conversation with someone else about art education theory or local artists/exhibitions or the everday obstacles that seem to get in the way of art making (like money). Mostly, I loved just seeing what life would be like after graduating with a BFA. She really allowed me to pick her brain about grad schools/residencies/museum jobs/places to visit/people to know.

No one really my age knows what we're going to do with an art degree, so that's one of the greatest gifts an older artist can provide (hm. not older, more experienced we'll say). In return, I think I took her on a mini-adventure vacation while sharing my crazy summer's exploits and fall study abroad plans. She was incredibly encouraging of what I've done and hope to do and it feels good to be headed in the right direction. (THANKS CAROLYN!)

Check out her blog at: dangerouschunky.com/notebook/index.php
If you want to know what's happening in Seattle and who's who, that's the place to start.

My Encounter with 26 Super Heros

Oh man, am I sore today! Yesterday I took Emily and eleven other cyclists on the quintessential hike up to Cascade Pass and Sahale Arm. This trail gains around 3,000 ft in 5 miles, with the last mile a thigh-burning 800-ft rock scramble. Even though these kids claim that they were using "different muscles" than cycling, they still took it at an impressive pace; like jogging down the last 3.5 miles in 45 minutes. I kept up well enough, but going down stairs today takes a bit more time than usual.

Basically, these kids are amazing. Imagine 26 of the most energetic, enthusiastic, adventurous friends on 9 week trip that's a mix between summer camp, a high school sports team, and a service project. Perhaps I caught them on a good day (it was their day off after all), but it community and laughter that I witnessed was unbelievable and infectious. As we were knocking back beer and sharing our most embarrassing stories, relaxing on the dock while the sun set...as I marveled at the amount of food they consumed after our hike (16 oz burgers, plus fries, plus onion rings, plus a fudge milk shake)...as I laughed until my cheeks hurt from smiling, I thought, wow, I'd love to do this. But then I realized that the attraction was not for the biking aspect of the trip (obviously), but for the camaraderie. Hmmm, I wonder if I can plan something of this cross-country magnitude for my art friends... "Paint America: Coming to a town near you!"

Best wishes Habitat Bike Challenge! Thanks for the fun.

Is it a) Fate, b) Destiney, c) God's Will, d) Coincidence or d) all the above?

When one travels into the unknown, one has to relinquish as significant amount of personal control. The quicker one realizes this and embraces the outside forces that affect our lives, the less frustration one will experience. Take these past couple of days for example:


My good friend, Emily Garlough, is almost done with a cross-country road trip for the Habitat for Humanity Bicycle Challenge. In order to reach their final destination, Seattle, their route takes them through my backyard, North Cascades National Park! Initially, we had thought that our schedules wouldn’t coincide and resolved on meeting up in Seattle after her ride. But I ended up getting some extra free days and decided to track her down. I had a rough itinerary from her, but since cell phones don’t work in this area (shock!) and their schedule wasn’t too exact, I had no idea exactly where I could find her. However, because there’s only one highway and the local towns aren’t really more than a few main roads deep, I thought I had a good chance of finding a group of 26 college students in bright yellow jerseys.

I left work under 90 degree weather and a relentless sun and drove an hour to their supposed evening stop. Despite asking around local stores and restaurants, no one had seen the group. I drove around to all the campgrounds in a 25-mile radius but still couldn’t find a congregation of college cyclists. Somewhat disappointed, I ended up at Early Winters Campground, the only camper for the night, and enjoyed an evening of reading, iPod music and a warm summer twilight.

I slept in, waking on the floor of my van in a nest of sheets and luggage. I had to continue on the highway to pick up some artwork from a show I had participated in earlier this summer, but still hoped I would catch the group on the highway when I returned. As I pulled out of the campground, I saw a yellow rider in my rear view mirror. Hmmm. A mile further, I saw two more. I couldn’t make out their jerseys, but hope quickly grew as I slowed down to meet the next pack of four riders.

“Excuse me, is this the Habitat Bike ride?”
“Holy crap! Is that Mike Liang! Oh my God, what are you doing here!?”

And just like that, I found Emily. In the middle of nowhere, 3,000 miles from home. I can’t even imagine her shock of seeing me appear completely out of the blue. I couldn’t have planned the encounter any better. And indeed, I hadn’t.

Right now, I’m in a café in Chelan, waiting for my artwork to arrive by ferry (it’s a long story). It’s been delayed 4 hours so I won’t be able to meet back up with the group until 9pm. But I’m undeterred. There’s nothing I can do to hurry the ferry ahead of schedule, so instead I’m catching up on e-mails, reading, grocery shopping, and trying to find a place to get an oil change.

I think “waiting” is an art that I’m sure I’ll perfect in Mali. For now, it’s just practice.

Heat+Polyester=Nasty

I met an interesting visitor today under those adverse weather conditions that can bring people together. Me: stuck at an overlook mid-afternoon where temperatures reached 95 degrees in the shade…and in a polyester uniform. Stefan: a bicyclist from LA who had ridden up the coast and was trying to reach NYC by September. But the heat both kept us from accomplishing not much else besides conversation on a bench under a Douglas fir. Turns out that he grew up in Paris (where I’ll be in December) and is a “celebrity” photographer in LA and NYC (though conversation lead me to believe that he was paparazzi). Between sips of warm water, we engaged in deep talks like debating traditional film photography vs. digital or the rules of the road when one cycles. Though the afternoon was punctuated with the usual visitor questions like “why is the water so green?” and “where is the nearest bathroom,” it was our conversation and weather bitching that made the time pass so quickly. After 3 seasons of meeting visitors like this, I’m a big believer that everyone is interesting and has stories to share if we only have the time to sit down and listen.

Other highlight: at one point in the afternoon, I thought I spied two seagulls fly past the overlook. Remember, I’m in the middle of the mountains. Stefan recommended that I drink more water.

I heart interpretation

Saturday, July 22, 2006 10:20 PST

I am experiencing what I like to call an “interpreter’s high,” a feeling of elation and energy that follows a successful evening program. After speaking to an audience of 94 park visitors, I’ve stripped out of my sweaty polyester uniform, and am trying to cool down with a glass of chilled pinot grigiot (have I mentioned how hot it is right now?)

I love giving the program: Beyond the Overlook, the Art of Tourism and National Parks. It’s a combination of my two great loves, art and the outdoors, and a testament to the past three years as a park ranger and art student. I advertise the program as one about “artists and photographers of the national park” but really I trick them into coming to an MFA-like thesis presentation, critically analyzing tourist stereotypes at overlooks and viewpoints, as well as the role of artists in national parks. I introduce such terms as “sublime” and “beauty” (thanks ADP: Philosophy) and contemporary artists like Nikki S. Lee (the tourist project), the Center for Land Use Interpretation, and Roger Mannik’s tourist photographs. I also force the visitor to ask questions like: who determines where an overlook would go? Why do we always smile and pose in front of monuments and landscapes (even if we’re in a bad mood)? How can visitors experience the national park besides driving from viewpoint to viewpoint? But I do think the program is really a seamless blend of natural resource interpretation (glaciers, hikes, NPS history) and art.

I’m proud of it because 1) it’s a combination of two seemingly distinct interests 2) I think it’s a great message/challenge to the typical visitor and 3) whenever I present it, I realize how much I love education, interpretation, and public speaking.

what are the odds?

The more you get out into the world, the more you realize how small it really is. Especially the art world. Take this afternoon for example:

After reading about artist Evan Blackwell's sculptures at the Benham Gallery and realizing that the show closed tomorrow, I decided to check it out. I was initially drawn to the descriptions of his work: "Plastic cups, forks, hangers are transformed into sculpture—with a nod to the excesses and "detritus" of American consumerism" (Seattle Weekly, June 28), and thought, hey, there's someone else like me and he's making a living at it! I was drawn to the repetition in his work and creative forms that emerged (though, at times it seemed a bit too much, almost wasteful. Like he was creating more trash instead of recycling discarded materials). Still, it's exciting to see someone with a similar creative voice.

As I left, I grabbed the show description and discovered that he attended Alfred University as a ceramics major, graduating in 1999. My good friend Kim West graduated also from Alfred in ceramics and a professor of mine, Nick Tobier, also taught there. I'm excited to see if either of them know of Evan (who is now an MFA candidate at UW) and would love to meet him at some point. Knowing the art world, I'm sure our paths will cross soon.

PS. It's freakin hot right now.

Paper Sculptures

Finally, after what seems like a long time, I've returned to making sculptures of found objects (for best examples of my work, see Summer 2005 at my old website: www.umich.edu/~mtliang). Of anything I've ever created, these have felt the strongest, the most unique to myself. Yet as graduation looms in the not-so-far-off future, I question how rearranging bits of trash will contribute to my financial security. Earlier this summer, I threw myself into some graphic design and illustration projects, with mixed results. I've decided to return to these assemblages, to wholly embrace these efforts and then see what happens. Conceptually, I'm not sure if there is anything beyond elegant form and composition. I am drawn to the idea of seeking/creating beauty through the everyday and discarded objects of life. There's a spirit of recycling in that, right? Lastly, I'm curious how these will evolve while living in Mali. What exactly is thrown away in a country that includes itself in the list of Top Ten Poorest Countries?

First impressions... there's only one.

While I often feel the need to be witty all the time, I think it's more important to be honest with oneself. I hope I can maintain this attitude throughout the blog.

Here's my status: I just finished my second year at the School of Art and Design at the University of Michigan (after spending one year as an environmental science major). I'm working as a ranger for the third consecutive summer at North Cascades National Park, but also living in Seattle during the week pursuing various art projects. And in September I'll be embarking on a three-month study abroad program in Mali, Africa. Followed by Paris for a weeklong layover. After that, who knows? I used to have my whole life planned out, but have since stopped living in the future. Today is busy enough. (though current whisperings in my head hint of a summer 2007 internship at a major art museum)

I'd like to believe that I lead an interesting life.

I'm sitting here, trying to figure out what to write, what exactly to include. As anyone who's ever received a "Mike Liang E-Mail" knows, brevity is not my forte. It seems somewhat jarring to just start out of the blue, with no prior background to explain how I've come to arrive at this point in my life. But maybe that's a good thing. Perhaps I should just consider this to be a liberating fresh start. Okay, here I go...