They say modern art blurs boundaries. I'm on the fence with that one. There need to be boundaries, separation and change. Without change, one could not see at all. Color, tone, texture help define spaces, places, people and, quite frankly, all things. Different sounds and vibrations explain the world to a blind man. It's a story told long before me. As he walks, his cane bounces, sending vibrations from the end of the stick through his hand, explaining the world around him. If he were to focus his attention on his hand, he would loose his perception of the street. The awareness of our perception is our doing, not a given. Change is there, and it is something in and of itself to be aware of.
With the creation of a fence, there is a separation that automatically divides into a dialogue. The separation focuses how we see the spaces. Now we know that the grass is greener on the other side, but what else does the frame around Mount Vernon Place say about that space?
At the center of Baltimore, the walkways, fountains, statues and greenery of Mount Vernon Place provide a unique vantage, extending out to the city like the points of a compass. The park is well used by the local community, traversed by the people from distant neighborhoods and visited by tourists from afar. It is beloved and well maintained. A cultural center, this national landmark offers a stage for a wide variety of events. This year, the opportunity to use the park as the venue for a different kind of art came out of an amazing collaboration between two courses at the Maryland Institute College of Art and the Walters Art Museum. At the start, the one thing we were all aware of was our intention to temporarily transform this space with art. One role of the fence was to invite awareness that the park's uses and the ways it is seen are in constant flux.
Interestingly, there has been a lot of conversation about the democratic process that opened the door to the use of Mount Vernon Place for this artwork. Many feel they have been left on the outside of the fence about this decision. America's pursuit of freedom and democracy is reflected in the layers of our history present in the park. As critics challenged this art, one friend pointed out that pursuit of these ideas has never been convenient.
I can't help but think of Christo, whose 1979 application to install his Golden Gates in New York's Central Park was rejected after public objections. In 2005, when Christo erected his Gates with Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg's permission, the people loved it.
Also relative, Richard Serra's Tilted Arc, once installed in New York City's Federal Plaza, was removed after complaints that citizens had to detour around the looming sculpture. Mr. Serra's piece lives on, with an unanticipated conversation about its removal a vital element of its story. I struggled before deciding to open the gold chain link fence at Mount Vernon Place after similar considerations, but revealing Mount Vernon Place was always as integral as the initial separation.
The frame around Mount Vernon Place aims to inspire larger conversations, more intimate discussions, and new perspectives. We can only hope the early opening of the gates will open a continuing public exploration of our perceptions of this important and complex space, which engages so many.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lee B. Freeman, the man who placed the gold chain link fences at Mount Vernon Place, is a 22-year-old senior at the Maryland Institute College of Art, where he is a candidate for a Bachelor in Fine Arts degree. Mr. Freeman says art was a natural path for him as he grew up in Manhattan and Queens, N.Y. He was nursing a racking cough in recent days as he raced to deal with the fallout from the Mount Vernon project.
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