Experimental

Main gallery of the Pulitzer in St. Louis. (Photo by TOKY Branding + Design/Geoff Story )

Expectations can be regrettable. We’ve all had that burner in the tenth that left us wanting. Though, sometimes if we’re lucky, expectations are the pins we rack for that surprise splasher from a hard Brooklyn.
Such was the story of my recent visit to the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts in St. Louis’ Covenant Blu neighborhood for the exhibition of Stylus by Ann Hamilton.

Having visited the Pulitzer before, I was already familiar with the tone set by the space. Designed by famed Japanese Modernist architect Tadao Ando, and permanent home to controversial artist Richard Serra’s imposing torqued spiral piece Joe, The Pulitzer generates a unique sense of awe. To experience the Pulitzer is what I imagine it would be like to stand in the shadow of a beautiful giant. Because of my familiarity with the Pulitzer from a previous visit, I was curious about how the tech-laden, sonic-centric Stylus would harmonize with the spareness and austere nature of the space.

Begley

Prior to my visit, I set to work investigating the production of the exhibition. Because of my experience in audio engineering, and general curiosity in electron bending apparati, I reveled in the behind-the-scenes footage of how Stylus came together. From sound designer Shahrokh Yadegari’s wielding of “Lila” to create the sounds that would fill the halls of The Pulitzer, to artist Ann Hamilton’s placement of literally one-thousand unique paper hands (with which you are encouraged to become physically acquainted … formalities of shaking optional), it really seemed that I was in for a rich and perhaps cluttered experience at the exhibition.

Enter the purpose of my metaphors on expectations (with or without irrelevant bowling jargon.)

While the presentation exuded an aural and conceptual richness, the exhibition was quite sparse visually. This proved to be a welcome shattering of those ill formed expectations. The cluttered tangles of cables, screens and microphones I’d imagined were non-existent. Instead, tidy and strategically placed projectors silently panned the walls from atop several scaffolds. As though married, the carefully crafted and haunting images danced with the main gallery walls to Yadegari’s manipulations of opera singer Elizabeth Zharoff’s sublime pitches. Near the entrance, a sometimes awkward, often serendipitous interaction played out between a Hamilton created wall projection and an ever changing soundtrack of vinyl sound effect records and read along stories as selected by obliging patrons. Many of the pieces in Stylus invite interaction from the viewer in this way. From the invitation to get “on” with a thousand paper hands (enjoy the pun), to the opportunity to pull a backwards Billy Joel on a voice activated player piano, Hamilton’s delivery of the Stylus concept is incredibly effective, if not subtle. Perhaps my favorite and most thought provoking portion of the exhibit came from a brilliantly simple execution of this idea of creation through mediation.

On the mezzanine of The Pulitzer you will find a steel table over which two highly sensitive microphones are suspended. The surface of the table is covered with hundreds of seeds from the S. palmeri shrub, more commonly known as the Mexican Jumping Bean. Inside each of these beans is the larvae of the tiny Jumping Bean Moth. As you unknowingly interact with the room through your body heat, humidity, vocal sounds and manipulation of light and shadow onto the table, the tiny larvae respond by shaking and vibrating their makeshift bassinets to maneuver toward the more conditionally favorable sections of the table. The shifting and vibrating beans create a gentle whir and rattle throughout the room that is not unlike the sound of rain, or a slight wind through fall branches. The effect is utterly mesmerizing. Direct physical contact with the table and beans is not allowed, further solidifying the concept of mediated interaction between all elements present. This particular piece impressed me as fantastically executed and unabashedly fun.

Stylus will run through January, but will be in a constant state of flux with new pieces and hands on experiences popping up as others are retired. The gallery is free to the public and open Wednesdays noon to 5 p.m., Saturdays 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., and they don’t roll on Shabbos. As a counterpoint to The Pulitzer’s unique natural lighting, special viewings of Stylus will be extended to evening showings between the hours of 6 and 9 p.m. every Thursday. There has also been discussion about incorporating live musical performances from area musicians in the space during these special hours.

While the extra hours and long run of the exhibition provide ample opportunity for a visit to be made, even those who never step foot in the gallery are able to participate in the project. Anyone willing to participate may call a number published on The Pulitzer Foundation’s website and leave a message on a special answering machine. At seemingly random times, the various messages will be broadcast via bullhorn loudspeaker from the top of The Pulitzer for the entire neighborhood to hear. Through this, the whole world ostensibly has the opportunity to contribute and participate in Stylus. As a caller, you can read a poem, tell a story, scream your name at the top of your lungs or even brag about your bowling handicap. However you decide to participate, you can certainly expect that the experience will be a unique opportunity to directly interact with a thoughtful exhibition by an exceptional artist.