Ink & Image: Issue 17

Ink & Image Spring 2025 Volume 17

Contributors

Yingqi Liu Sophia Brasil de Andrade Isabel Tremblay Riley J. Schmidt Clementine Parr

Editors-in-Chief

Isabel Waring Katherine Welander

Editors

Stephanie Garcia Charity Lin Gerany G. Norori Mae Pirani Sofia Portal

Design Editor

Yutong Wei

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Table of Contents Letter From the Editors Katherine Welander & Isabel Waring ....................................................................iii

Long-Form Papers: Wilderness, Transgression, Freedom: The Forest and Transformation in Arthurian Literature and Art Yingqi Liu ...........................................................................................................3 Recontextualizing Power: The Monument to the Bandeiras and the Politics of Memory in Brazil Sophia Brasil de Andrade .................................................................................17 The City of Yes in Action: Housing, Policy, and Brooklyn’s Changing Landscape Isabel Tremblay .................................................................................................29 Motive, Means, and Opportunity: Comparing Exhibition Design at The Met and the Brooklyn Museum Riley J. Schmidt .................................................................................................41

Notes: Thresholds of Perception: A Critical Study of Kenneth Noland’s Blue Veil Clementine Parr ................................................................................................53

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Letter From the Editors Dear reader, As the Editors-in-Chief of Ink & Image, we are delighted to present the 17th edition of NYU’s undergraduate research journal of the Department of Art History. The journal’s first editors, Malcolm St. Clair (Urban Design and Architecture Studies ‘09) and Alexis Wang (Art History ‘09), founded Ink & Image in 2009 with the intention of creating a space for undergraduate researchers to contribute to academic dialogue within art history. With this issue, we are honored to continue their vision while taking the next step forward in the journal’s development. Spanning seven centuries and four continents, this year’s selection of papers examine change and its consequences across disciplines, and several consider issues of equity and bias. With topics ranging from the role of wilderness in medieval literature, to the ramifications of new public transportation policies, to the reinterpretation of long-standing monuments and artworks, the critiques and research presented in this edition foreground change as a constant yet evolving force in artistic practice, urban design, and architecture. In a time of such uncertainty, we hope that this issue offers a small measure of insight into transformation as an enduring aspect of the human condition and encourages readers to question established ways of thinking about art and, by extension, the world around us. We take this opportunity to thank our Faculty Advisor, Professor John Hopkins, who has spent much of the last year entertaining our lengthy Zoom calls, providing us with support and advice, and reviewing all of the papers included in this issue. Their presence was an invaluable part of producing this edition of Ink & Image. We are also grateful to professors Dennis Geronimus, Kathryn Smith, Prita Meier, Frank Chaney, as well as other NYU faculty and staff who have helped us during this year’s submission, editing, and printing process. Our sincere thanks go to the CAS Student Council for their ongoing financial support. Finally, we want to acknowledge the tireless work of our Editorial Board — Charity Lin, Gerany Norori, Stephanie Garcia, Mae Pirani, and Sofia Portal — with special thanks to our Layout & Design Editor Yutong Wei for her role in reimagining the layout of this year’s issue. At the heart of Ink & Image is a commitment to fostering new research, encouraging creativity, and strengthening connections. Happy reading! Sincerely, Isabel Waring & Katherine Welander, Editors-in-Chief iii

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Long-Form Papers

Wilderness, Transgression, Freedom:

The Forest and Transformation in Arthurian Literature and Art

Yingqi Liu

Edited by Charity Lin

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In Arthurian romances, wild, uncivilized landscapes such as mountains, rivers, and forests serve as significant environmental settings that exist in opposition to the chivalric values and conventional social roles essential within the courts encompassed by castle walls. The wilderness reveals a realm of fluidity and unpredictability that contrasts sharply with the rigidity of courtly virtues, suggesting an alternative lens through which to explore human nature and morality. The forest, in particular, emerges as a key site where knights experience trials that challenge their chivalric virtues, offering both threats and opportunities for personal change. This dual nature of the wilderness—both as a site of peril and of liberation—raises essential questions about its function in Arthurian narratives: How does the wilderness test and reshape chivalric identity? To what extent does it serve as a space of transgression and freedom beyond courtly constraints? This paper presents a case study on the transformative experiences of two Arthurian characters in the natural, uncultivated forest landscape— Gawain, the protagonist of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Tristan, a central character of The Romance of Tristan—and examines how these heroes deviate from conventional courtly values under the influence of the wilderness.

Saunders discusses how the crucial role of forests has changed over time in medieval romances. She regards the forest as “an archetypal romance landscape” that incorporates an abundant array of themes like “adventure, love, and spiritual vision.”1 In studies preceding Saunders’ work, the forest is often symbolically considered as a domain of alienation filled with danger, mystery, and supernatural elements. For example in Landscapes and Seasons of the Medieval World, Elizabeth Salter and Derek Pearsall emphasize the forest’s symbolic significance as the locality of mystery: The forest, which is to be distinguished from the grove, is perhaps the most striking aspect of romance landscape, though its precise features are dissolved in symbol. It is a place of mystery, a place of testing, and always potentially evil, “a locus apart from society where the hero participating in adventures is liable to undergo supernatural ordeals”...Even where the forest appears to be a place of refuge, its harshness and alien nature makes it into a form of expiation or redemption through suffering... 2 In contrast, Saunders argues that the forest in medieval romances

Ecocritical Approaches to Arthurian Romance In her book, The Forest of Medieval Romance: Avernus, Broceliande, Arden, Corinne J.

1 Corinne J. Saunders, The Forest of Medieval Romance: Avernus, Broceliande, Arden (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 1993), ix. 2 Derek Pearsall and Elizabeth Salter, Landscapes and Seasons of the Medieval World (London: Paul Elek, 1973), 52-53.

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should be seen as an essential landscape where narrative resolution and character transformation occur. Additionally, Saunders asserts, forests should not be regarded as a mere narrative background in a traditionally structuralist sense, but should become linked with their real-world status in the Middle Ages as “geographic, economic, and legal concepts.”3 Following Saunders’ model, recent scholarship has begun adopting an ecocritical approach to analyze the descriptions of the wilderness in Arthurian literature and art. Such an approach regards the depiction of the natural environment as not “topical and far removed from the material reality.”4 Environmental settings are no longer seen as just backdrops for story progression: Instead, they serve as the catalyst for character development and story arc progression. Albrecht Classen has studied the significance of waterways “as specific markers on the imaginary map of the literary characters” like in the case of Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival (c.1200-25).5 After living alone with his overprotective mother in the depths of the forest, Parzival begins his journey to join the civilized world—King Arthur’s court—by first crossing a creek. Classen argues here the creek serves as both a physical and spiritual border that heavily

distinguishes Parzival’s sheltered early life from his future quest to become an ideal knight.6 Crossing the creek thus signifies Parzival’s entrance into “the world of courtly and knightly society” under King Arthur’s reign.7 The liminal role of waterways as the border between different realms can also be seen in Marie de France’s lay Lanval (c. 1160-90), wherein Lanval rides toward “the running water,” encounters two maidens (the representatives of the fairy lady), and finally passes from the worldly realm to the fairy realm.8 Regarding the forests in medieval romances, İfakat Banu Akçeşme further points out their vital position within the narrative to offer “a set pattern of adventures…as a place of adversary and obstacle, creating an oppositional force.”9 The forest becomes an essential place for knights to prove their chivalrous qualities as prescribed and regulated by courtly conduct. However, as we will see from the following discussions of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and The Romance of Tristan, the forest can also facilitate the violation and overturning of these same courtly virtues for these once outstanding knights.

6 Classen, “Waterways as Landmarks,” 449. 7 Ibid. 8 Marie de France, “Lanval,” The Broadview Anthology of Medieval Arthurian Literature (Peterborough: Broadview Press, 2024), 147. 9 İfakat Banu Akçeşme, “Ecocritical Insights into Medieval Epic Romances: A Comparative Study of Le Morte D’Arthur and Dede Korkut Stories”. Understanding Culture through Language and Literature. (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2018), 9.

3 Saunders, The Forest, xi. 4 Albrecht Classen, “Waterways as Landmarks, Challenges, and Barriers for Medieval Protagonists: Crossing Rivers as Epistemological Hurdles in Medieval Literature,” Amsterdamer Beiträge Zur Älteren Germanistik, vol. 78, no. 4, (December 2018), 444. 5 Classen, “Waterways as Landmarks,” 444.

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Gawain Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is a late 14th century Middle English poem preserved solely in manuscript MS Cotton Nero A.x. in the British Library in London. The manuscript contains twelve illustrations, likely added shortly after the text was written, four of which are dedicated to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.10 The first, showing Bertilak’s intrusion into Arthur’s court, precedes the poem (Fig. 1), while the other three illustrations, showing the Temptation of Gawain, Gawain confronting Bertilak (Fig. 2), and Gawain Returning to the Court, follow the rest of the text. The Gawainpoet tells how Gawain’s chivalrous virtues are tested and questioned by a mysterious Green Knight. These virtues are represented by the pentangle on his shield, described by the poet as “should befit” someone as noble as Gawain (Gawain-poet, line 623).11 The interlacing design of the pentangle reflects the courtly virtues “in five ways,” embodying their interconnection and sequential orders (line 632). The five virtues, as described in the poem, are generosity, love of fellow men, purity, courtesy, and compassion, all of which Gawain is supposed to embody (lines 619635). Showing Gawain carrying a

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Figure 1. The Green Knight Decapitated at the Yuletide Feast, from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, c. 1400. Ink and tempera on vellum, 29.3 × 40 cm. London, British Library, MS Cotton Nero A.X, fol. 94v. Image courtesy of Bridgeman Images (© 2025 Bridgeman Images, New York).

10 Murry McGillivray and Christina Duffy, “New Light on the Sir Gawain and the Green Knight Manuscript: Multispectral Imaging and the Cotton Nero A.x Illustrations,” Speculum 92, no. S1 (October 2017): 110. 11 All quotations from “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” come from Gawain-poet, “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight”. The Broadview Anthology of Medieval Arthurian Literature. (Peterborough: Broadview Press, 2024), 263-332.

Figure 2. Sir Gawain Seeks the Green Chapel, from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, c. 1400. Ink and tempera on vellum, 29.3 × 40 cm. London, British Library, MS Cotton Nero A.X, art. 3, fol. 129v. Image courtesy of Bridgeman Images, New York. (© 2025 Bridgeman Images, New York).

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shield adorned with such a significant pattern sets the stage and expectation for him to demonstrate these ideals. The Gawain-poet describes Gawain as a man “most true of speech” and the “fairest-spoken knight” since Gawain is equipped with this shield (lines 637-639). Indeed, within the poem, one does sense Gawain’s proficiency in performing courtly virtues. When the Green Knight bursts into the feasting hall, challenging those knights present to cut his head off with his axe, Gawain humbly volunteers to accept the challenge, deeming it an “arrogant” request and preventing the king from taking on such a dangerous challenge or facing potential embarrassment (lines 348-353). But as the Green Knight miraculously revives after decapitation, Gawain must abide by his promise to bear the Green Knight’s fatal blow in return. As the New Year’s feast draws to a close, the Gawain-poet implicitly foreshadows Gawain’s failure to prove his virtue due to his fear: “Now take good care, Gawain, / Lest fear hold you back / From leaving on the quest / You have sworn to undertake” (lines 487-490). The poem then illustrates how Gawain’s meticulously upheld virtues and manners are slowly compromised as the narrative unfolds. The drastic transition from Arthur’s bustling castle hall to the ominous, unknown forest greatly discouraged Gawain. This is visible in the ways each space is treated in the text, particularly the opening scenes within the castle hall protected by the city wall of Camelot and, in contrast, the forest of Wirral wherein Gawain suffers from the

unwelcoming environment. The poem had begun with King Arthur’s New Year feast in Camelot, where many “gracious lords” sat around the Round Table with joy that “resounded in chambers and halls” (lines 37-49). Ann M. Martinez states that Arthur’s Camelot is a “courtly world by humans and focused on indoor culture.”12 Being indoors provides a space for knights like Gawain to practice their courtesy and supervise each other’s behavior. This indoor social setting is also depicted in the first of four illustrations in the Gawain manuscript (Fig. 1). A defensive King Arthur draws out his sword and stands beside Guinevere by the feasting table. The couple is flanked by two knights in red, both armed with weapons. The presence of the two knights, who serve as guards to the royal couple, elaborates on the hierarchical nature of the court. The lower half of the page features the first confrontation between Gawain and the Green Knight. The illuminator has boldly depicted the decapitated body of Bertilak, enhancing the scene’s graphic brutality and uncanniness. It is notable that the illuminator uses the feasting table as a barrier, separating the Green Knight’s rash, impertinent intrusion from the courtly assembly gathered at the Christmas feast. Since the poem’s pictorial prelude is already evoking a sharp division between the orderly, virtue-centered courtly life and the uncanny, wild nature of the Wirral forest, one should come to expect 12 Ann M. Martinez, “Bertilak’s Green Vision: Land Stewardship in ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’”. Arthuriana, vol. 26, no. 4, (2016), 116.

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Gawain’s transformation in these two distinctively opposite settings. After Gawain embarks on his journey to the Green Chapel, the environment suddenly changes. He is no longer the same noble knight grieved by his fellow knights for his perilous fortune, who boldly proclaimed, “What should I fear?” against the Green Knight’s “terrible blow”(lines 560-565). He instead finds himself wandering alone in the “wilderness of Wirral,” a secluded, desolate forest area situated near the coastal area of Wales and North East England where “few people lived”(line 701). He stumbles in the strange, unfamiliar terrain, fights with hideous enemies, and grows troubled by the “rigorous winter” in such wilderness (line 726). Vanessa Jaeger points out that the fighting scenes during Gawain’s journey in Wirral are not “a demonstration of might and prowess” since his enemies (the dragons, beasts, and wild men) lack “chivalric reputation”.13 In this sense, Gawain has become an outsider in the forest, heavily isolated from any social interaction. He no longer has the luxury or expectation to demonstrate courteous conduct, instead needing to deal with countless challenges that threaten his life, forcing him to “give fight” and sleep in his cold armor (lines 715-735). The once refined, courteous Gawain, the ideal manifestation of a knight of social conduct, is increasingly replaced

by a miserable man suffering from “danger, hardship, and continual pain,” his once pious act of praying to God turning to more of a desperate appeal: “Prosper me, Christ’s blood!” (lines 737-762). The description of the desolate, unfriendly forest Gawain traverses thus creates the framework around his fear of the upcoming beheading game and his eagerness to survive. The Gawain-poet meticulously shapes how this fear subtly grows as the New Year approaches. This is visible from the poet’s description of the passage of time, which includes mentions of changing seasons in lines 516-535: Then comes the summer season with gentle winds, When Zephirus blows softly on seeding grasses and plants, Beautiful is the growth that springs from the seed, When the moistening drew drips from the leaves To await a joyful gleam of the bright sun. But then autumn comes quickly and urges it on, Warns it to ripen before winter’s approach. Dry winds of autumn force the dust to fly From the face of the earth high into the air; Fierce winds of heaven wrestle with the sun, Leaves are torn from the trees and fall to the ground, And all withered is the grass that was green before,

13 Vanessa Jaeger, “Tongueless Whispering: Wirral’s Role in Decentering the Human in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight”. Comitatus: A Journal of Medieval & Renaissance Studies, vol. 52 (2021), 123.

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Then all ripens and rots that had sprung up at first, And in so many yesterdays the year wears away, And winter comes round again, as custom requires, In truth; Until the Michaelmas moon Brought hint of winter’s frost; And into Gawain’s mind Come thoughts of his grim quest (lines 516-535).

breaks the deal. Lady Bertilak, wife of Bertilak, has given Gawain a green girdle as a “love token,” telling Gawain that the belt can prevent its wearer from being struck down or killed (lines 1805-1854). Upon hearing the belt’s magical effect, Gawain is immediately tempted to keep the belt to secure his escape from the fatal blow, and that evening Gawain makes no mention of the belt when Bertilak returns from the hunt. By betraying the promise made between himself and the lord of the castle, Gawain has chosen to violate the core principles of chivalry in order to keep his life. Additionally, while Gawain speaks in a “charming manner” with Lady Bertilak in his chamber, deep in his mind he feels a very “small interest in love because of the ordeal he must face / very soon…” (lines 12731285). The poet keeps reminding the reader-viewer of Gawain’s seemingly doomed future as he spends his last days in comfort within Bertilak’s castle. The juxtaposition of Gawain’s courtly manners with his fear of losing his life corresponds closely to his current location in the narrative— in a mysterious castle deep within the depths of an uncivilized green forest. The surrounding wilderness is a grim reminder to both Gawain and the reader-viewer that once the knight exits the beautiful castle and returns to the forest, he may perish. In her ecocritical analysis, Jaeger regards the forest of Wirral as its own entity with agency that rejects Gawain’s intrusion while recognizing “a kinship with Bertilak.”14 The

This approach creates an ever-changing world filled with impermanence and cyclic revival, and through the gradual transition from vibrant summer to freezing winter, one can sense Gawain’s growing anxiety toward his “grim quest” as the weather grows harsher. After traversing the unwelcoming, icy landscape populated with prowling beasts, Gawain at last arrives at a castle in the midst of the forest belonging to the knight, Bertilak. Although he is celebrated and welcomed back once more into the courtly world, Gawain’s courage is still greatly affected by recurring thoughts of the fearful blow and the decapitation. Additionally, Bertilak makes an unusual deal with Gawain: whatever Bertilak catches in his hunting games would be Gawain’s while Gawain should give whatever he receives in the castle in exchange. Upholding his virtues as a knight, Gawain agrees to abide by the deal and promises to obey since he is being cared for under Bertilak’s roof. However, on the third day of his stay, Gawain secretly

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Jaeger, “Tongueless Whispering,” 114.

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forest’s contrasting attitude toward the two characters is not only because Gawain is a knight from Arthur’s court and Bertilak/Green Knight is a hybrid figure embodying nature’s revivifying power, but also because Gawain has inner fear and apprehension toward the blow that will happen soon at the Green Chapel. In this sense, the forest’s ominous atmosphere has become the manifestation of Gawain’s inner world. The correlation between the danger of the forest and Gawain’s dread of the beheading quest is expressively depicted in the third illustration of the Gawain manuscript (Fig. 2). The illustration shows the final confrontation between Gawain and the Green Knight at the Green Chapel. Gawain, equipped with full armor, is mounted on his horse, Gringolet, and occupies the page’s lower left corner while the Green Knight with his battle-axe stands in opposition on the upper right. Flowers and grasses of this scene are depicted using thin, sketchy black lines, but these are all covered by green ink of different tones: a light, transparent shade of green in contrast to the dark green of the Green Knight. All elements of this forest, including the flowers, grasses, trees, and the Green Knight himself, are covered by the same green pigment, seemingly merging together to form a single entity. Gawain, in contrast, is an outsider on the green folio with his lance, clothing, rein, and horse in red and blue. The uncanny curving shades of dark green, perhaps used to indicate the forest’s canopy,

surround the knight and create a claustrophobic atmosphere that reflects how torn Gawain is between his noble courage and his yearning for survival. The illustration also covers the whole folio without any apparent pictorial border that might act as a buffer zone, directly exposing the unnerving landscape to the reader-viewer and guiding them into Gawain’s anxious inner world. Maidie Hilmo points to the role reversal of Gawain and Bertilak when comparing the first and third miniatures of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Fig. 1 and 2). She suggests that the Green Knight in the third miniature is “an exact replica of Gawain” since the figure holds the pollaxe originally held by Gawain in the first miniature.15 Gawain himself has become the intruder on horseback. The forest, as a liminal, otherworldly landscape that catalyzes the character’s spiritual metamorphosis, witnesses Gawain’s shift in identity: his desire to live transforms him from a courtly knight in Arthur’s court into the rash intruder of Bertilak’s forest. After being hurt by the third blow of the Green Knight in front of the chapel, Gawain’s tone noticeably becomes much more irritable as he is eager to be rid of the danger and prove his faithful nature: he “snatched up his helmet and crammed it on his head,” “wrathfully” warning the Green Knight to keep his promise by not 15 Kathryn Kerby-Fulton, Maidie Hilmo and Linda Olson, Opening Up Middle English Manuscripts: Literary and Visual Approaches (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2012), 185.

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striking another blow (lines 23172326). From Gawain’s perspective, the mysterious, cruel forest is a direct reflection of his mind, one filled with much agony and despair. The color green has appeared everywhere under such adverse circumstances—the forest, the knight, and the chapel are all green, and even the symbol of Gawain’s shame for failing to abide by his commitment (the girdle from Lady Bertilak) is the same. The overwhelming green on the folio page reveals a negative connotation of the color with the cruel and unwelcoming natural world Gawain experiences, but it also embodies another meaningful layer in the poem: the vibrant, natural desire for survival and growth. Gawain’s failure to prove his trustworthy and courageous virtues is simply a product of his desire to survive in the wild green forest. The green girdle, a symbol of shame, is also a magical object that prevents one from being killed. And the Green Knight has miraculously resurrected in the opening scene. In this sense, the color green is also an epitome of nature’s fluidity and vitality—a fluidity and vitality that lies beyond the conventional regulations of the “indoor focused” Camelot.

be a much gentler space that provides Tristan and Iseult the opportunity to freely pursue their illicit love. As a result of the schemes of the cunning dwarf Frocin, Tristan and Iseult are caught in the act by King Marc, who officially verifies their illicit affair. When Iseult is about to be humiliated by a mob of lepers, Tristan saves her and the two lovers run off into “the forest of Morrois” to rejoice and live together peacefully despite the harsh conditions of the wilderness (lines 1274-1276).16 Compared to King Marc’s court where treacherous barons plotted against Tristan in an attempt to disclose his love affair, the untraversed forest with plenty of venison resources becomes a sanctuary for the pair. They live “a harsh and wretched life,” but their true love makes them feel no distress (lines 1364-1366). Wharton Esherick, in his woodcut print of a theatrical adaptation of the story of Tristan and Iseult by Amory Hare, depicts the bittersweetness of the couple’s life in a forest far away from a court full of conspiracies (Fig. 3). The 1931 print, titled The Forest, shows Iseult in her humble lodging under a lush wood. Esherick places Iseult at the bottom left corner so that her small figure creates direct contrast with the gigantic tree trunks occupying most of the picture space. The towering, dark silhouettes of the tree trunks and the dense white dots of leaves together present a sublime

Tristan In contrast with the perilous forest in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which is linked with the otherworldly power of nature and isolated from the civilized court, the forest in Béroul’s poem, The Romance of Tristan (c. 1170-1200), appears to

16 All quotations from The Romance of Tristan come from Béroul, The Romance of Tristan by Béroul and Béroul II: Student Edition and English Translation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2015), 35.

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Figure 3. Wharton Esherick, Tristram and Iseult – Act II, Scene 3 – The Forest, 1931. Woodcut Print, 16 × 18 in. Moderne Gallery, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Image courtesy of Moderne Gallery, Philadelphia.

woodland setting. Yet sunbeams, represented here by strings of thin lines, still stream through the leafy canopy. The gentle light alleviates the oppressiveness of the grand forest, adding a hint of serenity to the scene. One can imagine Tristan and Iseult happen to escape away into such a semi-uncanny but tranquil forest, where they can, as lovers, enjoy one another’s company without considering their socially assigned roles as queen and knight. Nonetheless, one cannot regard the forest in The Romance of Tristan as a mere haven for their love isolated from all possible social interactions with the court. The forest of Morrois is actually an area under close surveillance by King Marc. As Robert Harrison explains, the word “forest” has juridical implication in the Middle Ages, referring to “a land that

has been placed off limits by a royal decree” and is purposely uncultivated to be “reserved for the king’s pleasure and recreation,” especially for the hunting of game.17 The woodland in this romance is an intentionally uncivilized and isolated place simply because of the juridical regulation of the civilized court. We still see continuous surveillance of the forest by King Marc even after Tristan and Iseult have managed to escape from the court. The presence of foresters in charge of maintaining the forest habitat is also emphasized in the poem: one of them even finds Tristan and Iseult while they are asleep and reports the find to King Marc (lines 1837-1864).The presence of gaming 17 Robert Harrison, Forests: The Shadow of Civilization (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 69.

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animals is also found in Béroul’s description of the protagonist’s life in the forest. “Stags, hinds, and roedeer” are hunted by Tristan, and there is even a hound named Husdent who becomes a loyal companion to the two lovers (lines 1426-1429). The juridical aspects of the forest not only allowed medieval kings and lords to entertain themselves by playing hunting games but also showcased the court’s ability to manage lands through judicial authority. In this sense, the forest is an untraversable realm for ordinary people apart from the ones who hold sovereignty. The forest of Wirral in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is hostile to an outsider like Gawain while at the same time a bountiful landscape filled with prey for its lord, Bertilak. In The Romance of Tristan, however, the ideal beneficiary of the forest is no longer King Marc but Tristan. The two characters have exchanged identities: The forest transforms into the home field of Tristan, the hunter of the woods. Béroul provides a detailed description of Tristan’s hunting process: “He made ready, and shot at a fallow-deer. / Blood flowed, the dog gave tongue, / the wounded deer fled bounding away, / lively Husdent barked loudly, / the woods resounded with his voice” (lines 1607-1611). Eventually, even the once-loud Husdent is trained into an excellent hound who never barks and can shrewdly find prey. One of Tristan’s most important attributes, the Unfailing Bow, was crafted in those woods for the expert purpose of hunting. The forest has obviously become Tristan’s domain: “From the

moment of entering the wood, / even to hunt, everyone dreaded / that the valiant Tristan might come upon him. / He was feared in the open and more so in the wild wood” (lines 1725-1728). By contrast, although he is the legal owner of the forest, King Marc’s right to hunt in the forest and to know the whereabouts of Tristan and Iseult has been suspended. The episode of Tristan’s forest life declares a complete overturning of the established hierarchy as he gains full control over the woods. Love, Betrayal and the Hunt on a Casket By describing Tristan’s status as both the queen’s lover and a hunter in the forest, Béroul frames Morrois as the setting for Tristan’s and King Marc’s social role reversal. Moreover, the medieval linkage between love and hunting reinforces Tristan’s subversion of the social order and his “betrayal” of the king. In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the parallel scenes of Bertilak’s hunting and Lady Bertilak’s seduction of Gawain demonstrate this subtle homology between love and hunting. A composite box with romance scenes, made between 1310-30, visualized this association by juxtaposing the scenes of Tristan and Iseult’s secret meeting with a unicorn being captured by hunters (Fig. 4). The casket is considered a “composite” due to the diverse sources the artist refers to when carving the scenes on the box’s six sides: The scenes range from allegories possibly derived from medieval oral culture or literature 13

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Figure 4. Composite Casket with Romance Scenes, c. 1310–30. Elephant ivory, 4 5/16 × 9 15/16 × 6 1/4 in. and 5 7/8 × 9 7/8 × 5/16 in. (top). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Image courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Figure 5. Tristran and Yseut / A Unicorn Captured by a Virgin and Wounded by a Hunter, c. 1310–30. Elephant ivory, 4 5/16 × 9 15/16 × 6 1/4 in. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Image courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

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(the Siege of the Castle of Love) and themes whose characters originate in Greco-Roman culture (Aristotle, Pyramus and Thisbe) to Arthurian tales derived from Celtic material. The ivory box, with various scenes dealing with the topic of love and lusts, is regarded as a visual compilatio by Paula M. Carns. Compilatio, as Carns explains, is a common practice in medieval literary culture by which compilers group “diverse texts in manuscripts around specific themes to make an overarching statement.” In the case of the composite box, several scenes concerning courtly love and erotic desire are grouped together to evoke viewer’ reflection upon the topic of love through compare and contrast. On the left side of the ivory casket, Tristan and Iseult are shown seated on either side of a fountain with a lion head (Fig. 5). In comparison to the couple’s elegant and restrained postures, King Marc appears as a sneaky spy in a tree, his face reflected in the fountain water below. Just as Béroul shapes the illicit lovers as the hero and heroine with God’s blessing and the king as a weak-minded antagonist, the artist designed and carved the scene so that it emphasizes the contrasting roles of the seemingly innocent lovers and the cunning Marc. The reversal of roles between Tristan and Marc is already foreshadowed in this scene, which occurs before Tristan’s takeover of Marc’s domain in the forest. On the right, separated by a tree, is a scene of the hunt and capture of a unicorn. The unicorn lies tamely on a virgin’s lap while stabbed in the back by a

hunter’s lance. A ferocious beast, the unicorn can only be seduced by a virgin who serves as the bait for the hunt.18 The juxtaposition of the two scenes clearly expresses the association of love and seduction with hunting game. It is noteworthy that in place of a traditional frame, the panel is divided by a tree that echoes the vegetational settings of the two scenes, implying the underlying homologous natures shared by the juxtaposed narratives. Since the virgin then betrays the unicorn by letting hunters capture it, the juxtaposition also encourages viewers to think about the treacherous and adulterous Tristan and Iseult in their story. One can regard the killing of the unicorn as a direct metaphor for Tristan’s treacherous usurpation of King Marc’s rights to hunt and to love. On one hand, the desolate forest of Wirral transforms into a starkly hostile environment for Gawain, a knight more accustomed to the vibrant and orderly court of Camelot where civilized social interactions are the norm. The solitude and hardships of the forest challenge Gawain’s cultivated virtues, and as the forest’s relentless trials press upon him, his instinct for survival begins to overtake his customary adherence to chivalric conduct. This wilderness molds the once exemplary knight into a figure whose virtues and adherence to courtly behavior becomes increasingly ambiguous and questionable. On the other hand, Tristan, who is initially bound by loyalty to King Marc, finds a different 18

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Carns, “Compilatio in Ivory,” 75.

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kind of liberation in the forest. Here, beyond the confines of the court, he gains the freedom to hunt and engage in romantic pursuits that were once inaccessible to him within the rigid structure of courtly life. In both narratives, the forest not only provides physical freedom but also introduces moral complexities that thoroughly challenge their knightly vows. Through an ecocritical lens, the forests in the romances of Gawain and Tristan are reimagined not merely as backdrops for knightly adventures but as landscapes of social, psychological, and personal transformation, compelling the knights within their realm to navigate both the external challenges of nature and their internal moral dilemmas. This perspective emphasizes the forest’s role as not just a physical space but also as a dynamic environment that profoundly influences those who enter its bounds, constantly making them question and reshape their identities and values as they traverse the depths. The complex interplay between the romance texts and corresponding images reinforces the implications of the forest as a transformative space. In the Gawain manuscript, the visual representations of the forest in the illustrations complement the textual narrative’s tension between courtly virtue and natural instinct. The Green Knight, first appearing as the uncanny, beheaded figure in the feast scene, reappears as the ominous silhouette who is visually integrated into the verdant environment in front of the Green Chapel. The

reappearance of the Green Knight as if a haunting spirit corresponds to Gawain’s recurring psychological entanglements filled with moral struggles and life instincts in the unpredictable wilderness seen in the text. Similarly, the ivory casket’s juxtaposition of scenes from Tristan’s narrative with the symbolic unicorn hunt emphasizes how medieval artists engaged with the visual language of the forest to shed light on the homologous nature of hunting, love, and betrayal. By juxtaposing Tristan and Iseult’s illicit love alongside the brutal capture of the unicorn in front of the same arboreal background, the artist presents the fluidity of identities, status, and positions within a forest setting, highlighting the forest not merely as a romantic refuge but as a contested space of domination and subversion. Whether through the oppressive woods of Wirral that challenge Gawain’s chivalric ideals or the forest of Morrois that grants Tristan the freedom to defy courtly norms, these woodsy landscapes remain deeply influential. The visual and textual dialogues surrounding these forests remind us that nature, in its unpredictability and vitality, serves as both a reflection and a catalyst for human transformation.

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Recontextualizing Power:

The Monument to the Bandeiras and the Politics of Memory in Brazil Sophia Brasil de Andrade Edited by Gerany G. Norori

“We speak so much of memory because there is so little of it left.”1 —Pierre Nora

of a city or country reconcile the intended purpose of remembrance with the complex and often painful realities these monuments evoke? In such cases, the monument becomes not only a site of memory but also a site of contestation, challenging us to critically examine the narrative upheld by the oppressor, and consider that of the marginalized. This is the case for the Monument to the Bandeiras in São Paulo, Brazil. This essay will analyze the monument based on its formal and symbolic aspects, shedding light on the layers of meaning it upholds today following almost a century of

Etymologically, the term “monument” comes from the Latin term monere, meaning “to remind,” to bring to one’s recollection, or to tell of. But what is to be done when a monument celebrates people or events that contributed to a history of genocide? How do the people 1 Pierre Nora, “Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire,” Representations, no. 26 (1989): 7.

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appropriations by different political regimes and generations.

presence in 20th- and 21st-century Brazilian politics stemmed not from lasting historical significance, but from a deliberate effort to embed them into national heritage. In the late 19th century, after the fall of the monarchy and the establishment of a republic, São Paulo’s elite grew concerned about the region’s perceived lack of historical and cultural identity. Unlike Bahia, Ouro Preto, and Salvador, which boasted Baroque colonial architecture, or Rio de Janeiro, which had served as the imperial capital and seat of the Portuguese court, São Paulo lacked a comparable cultural legacy despite its economic dominance in coffee production.2 In response, the Historical and Geographical Institute of São Paulo (IHGSP) constructed a local mythology that elevated the Bandeirantes as heroic pioneers who ventured inland from the coast. Over time, these figures became deeply tied to notions of national identity and pride, allowing successive political regimes to manipulate their image to serve shifting narratives about Brazilian citizenship and values.

The Myth of the Bandeirantes in São Paulo The Bandeirantes were a group of men hired by the colonial government in Brazil to achieve three tasks: to search the virgin lands for natural minerals and resources; to conduct extreme pillaging of indigenous villages, enslaving the survivors and bringing them on their journey inland; and to conquer land originally belonging to Spain under the 1494 Treaty of Tordesillas, which set a line of demarcation down the continent and divided the land between the Portuguese and Spanish crowns. By 1500, a Portuguese expedition led by Pedro Álvares Cabral had landed on the Brazilian coast by accident on his way to the Indies, thus discovering the uncharted lands of what is now Brazil. This sparked Portuguese opposition to the Treaty of 1494, as the lands annexed for Spain were significantly larger. Not surprisingly, the pope who had overseen the division of lands and helped draw the line of demarcation was Pope Alexander IV, the Spanishborn Rodrigo Borgia. Nonetheless, up to the European discovery of Brazil, the demarcation line was based on speculative geography, and the Bandeirantes were tasked with pushing beyond it to expand Portuguese territory. The Bandeirantes aided in the expansion of Portuguese rule in South America during the 16th and 17th centuries. However, their enduring

The Monument Under Dictatorships The Monument to the Bandeiras is a large sculptural group made of gray granite, and located near the center of São Paulo. It measures 11 meters high, 8 meters wide, and 44 meters long, creating a truly monumental 2 Renato Cymbalista, “What to Do with the Bandeirantes: A Challenged Monument in São Paulo, Brazil,” City 24, no. 3–4 (2020): 607.

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Figure 1. Victor Brecheret, Model of the Monument to the Bandeiras, 1920. Granite, Arquivo do Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros USP – Fundo Mário de Andrade (MA-F-1831), São Paulo. Photo: Brazilian illustration, RJ, September 1920. (© 1920 Arquivo do Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros USP – Fundo Mário de Andrade, São Paulo, Brazil).

Figure 2. Victor Brecheret, Model of the Monument to the Bandeiras, 1937. Arquivo do Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros USP – Fundo Mário de Andrade (MA-F-1831), São Paulo. (© 1937 Arquivo do Instituto de Estudos Brasileiros USP – Fundo Mário de Andrade, São Paulo, Brazil). Note: This model represents the final design of the monument, with the key difference being the upward slope.

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impact on the landscape of Parque Ibirapuera, where it is located. Initially envisioned in 1920 by the Portuguese Chamber of Commerce, it was meant to be a monument celebrating the centenary of independence from Portugal in 1822. The artist chosen for this commission was the Italian Brazilian Victor Brecheret, who, in 1920, designed the first version of his monument (Fig. 1). His initial conception was still reminiscent of late 19th and early 20th century European art, raised on a high podium with several steps before it, evoking a classical style; the figures themselves had a Rodin-esque quality, and two more figures were added to the sides of the monument, also raised on their own platforms.3 The project, however, remained a concept until 1936, when construction finally began under the government of Getúlio Vargas, who was installed in 1930 following a revolution. One year later, in 1937, construction came to a halt as a result of a military coup and the establishment of the Estado Novo, with Vargas as dictator. Furthermore, the beginning of World War II two years later concretized the delay of the project until as late as 1945.4 The finalized version of the sculpture does not resemble its original concept—largely because Brecheret continued engaging with the formal elements of his work between the years of 1920 and

1936.5 In fact, the working model he produced in 1936 was significantly closer to the final model (Fig. 2): this version contains the same group of figures found in the final design, although it slopes upwards by means of an inclined platform below the figures, creating a dramatic effect not seen in the earlier design. To an extent, this incline echoes the speech given by an interventor, the temporary head of revolutionary government, on July 9th, 1936, when the monument’s construction was declared and its meaning exploited to express the current government’s ideals. Describing the monument, he noted it to be: a departure of Bandeirantes for the conquest of the virgin land, full of strength, movement and action. A group of men walk upwards: it is the Paulista ideal in action. Some are helping to pull the barge, others are supporting companions unfit by fatigue or fever: this is the indispensable solidarity needed for the triumph. Two Bandeirantes, the leaders, go ahead on horseback: this is the principle of authority, the pillar of civilization that communism tries to destroy. The figures decrease in size: it is hierarchy, inseparable from discipline and one of the most beautiful principles of social organization, that allows the one who is in at the lowest point to ascend by himself

3 Cymbalista, “What to Do with the Bandeirantes,” 608. 4 Tadeu Chiarelli, “Monument to the Flags, by Brecheret: The Present Past,” Arte!Brasileiros, December 20, 2021.

5 Chiarelli, “Monument to the Flags, by Brecheret.”

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to the highest position […] authority, discipline, hierarchy, solidarity, intelligent and constructive action of generous idealism—this is what Brazil needs, as proposed by this monument […] attesting the desire of Paulistas to renew the principles and achievements that made the foundations of our nationality.6

On the right, verses from the poet Guilherme de Almeida read: “Brandiram archas e empurraram quilhas/ Vergando a vertical de Tordesilhas” (“They wielded banners and pushed keels/ Bending the vertical of Tordesilhas”).7 On the left, a passage from the writer Cassiano Ricardo declares: “Glória aos heróis que traçaram/ O nosso destino na Geografia/ Do mundo livre/ Sem eles o Brasil não seria grande como é” (“Glory to the heroes who traced/ Our destiny in the Geography/ Of the free world/ Without them, Brazil would not be as great as it is”).8 These plaques remain in place, continuing to reinforce the mythologized heroism of the Bandeirantes and their role in Brazil’s territorial expansion. Nonetheless, this heroic construction of the character of the Bandeirantes was flexible, not necessarily always feeding into authoritarianism. In fact, during the Constitutionalist Movement in 1932, an insurrection against Getúlio Vargas’ government, the image of the constitutional soldier embodied that of the Bandeirante: It was reproduced in newspapers, magazines, posters, and pamphlets during the revolt.9 The cover of the July 1932 edition of the magazine, A Cigarra, depicts just this: a Bandeirante stands tall and imposing, wearing the clothes of the Portuguese explorers (Fig. 3). Below him, a group of figures

Although authoritarian, Vargas’ government combined authoritarianism with populist, nationalist, and pro-labor policies, bearing little resemblance to the military dictatorship that followed in 1964. This speech makes it clear that as early as 1936, under Getúlio Vargas, the image of the Bandeirantes had already been fused with nationalist ideals, embodying morals closely aligned with authoritarian principles—principles that would be fully realized when Vargas seized full dictatorial power in his 1937 coup. Emphasizing hierarchy, the speech suggests that the country’s needs at the time aligned with the ideals symbolized by the monument and reinforced by the fabricated myth of the Bandeirantes. By then, the concept of the Bandeirantes had already been absorbed into the regime’s moral and ideological framework, and Brecheret’s monument gave those ideas a tangible, physical form. On either side of the pedestal, inscriptions glorify the so-called heroic role of the pioneers and their contributions to national heritage. 6

7 Translation by author. 8 Translation by author. 9 José Ricardo Oriá Fernandes, “Vandalismo, Iconoclastia ou Luta Pelo Direito à Memória? O Caso da Estatuária dos Bandeirantes em São Paulo,” Politika.

Cymbalista, 609.

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the qualities of the Paulista and was opportunistically adaptable to whichever political regime chose to appropriate it. Precisely because of this, the concept of the Bandeirantes was once again readapted in 1964, when a military coup established a new dictatorship in Brazil after a series of left-leaning presidents succeeded Vargas. Unlike the Vargas regime, this newly installed regime was an overtly repressive, elite-driven fascist one which oversaw the exile, imprisonment, torture, and death of thousands. Still, this new regime instrumentalized the image of the monument in a similar way to the previous dictatorship. Laura Abreu notes they related it to the current climate of “Brazil, love it or leave it,” thus little by little the sculptural ensemble was associated with the power that ruled the country.10 Once again, this myth, whose origins trace to colonial Brazil, intentionally and methodically ingrained into the Paulista heritage, provided support to another form of authoritarian government.

Figure 3. Unknown artist, A Cigarra, magazine cover, July 1932, 17.5 x 25.6 cm. Centro de Memória-Unicamp. Arquivo Público do Estado de São Paulo, São Paulo, Brazil. Image courtrsy of Núcleo de Base Histórica/Arquivo Público do Estado de São Paulo [NBH/APESP] for noncommercial use only, Brazil.

engages in violent combat as he looks down proudly and defiantly. The Bandeirante in this illustration is a symbol of the state of São Paulo, promoting the fight against Vargas, who, at that point, had the political support of almost every other state in Brazil. Through this, it is evident that the valorization of the Bandeirante was a blatant celebration of past events in order to justify those of the future: The glorification of these figures—the so-called “discoverers” of the country—gave way to the superposition of São Paulo over the rest of the Brazilian states which, in this case, stood alone against Vargas. These Portuguese explorers were a figment of the collective imagination, one which incorporated

The Monument in the 21st Century It was not until the 1990s, the decade following the overthrow of the dictatorship, that the Monument to the Bandeiras truly began to be thought about critically. For those seeking distance from authoritarianism, it no longer 10 Laura Abreu, “Monumento às Bandeiras, de Brecheret: O Passado Presente,” Arte Brasileiros. October 13, 2023.

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represented the glory of the country’s past and future; rather, it honored European colonialism which pillaged, destroyed, and enslaved the native populations.11 This added a new layer to the way the monument is now being perceived in the 21st century. Today, there is an ambiguity in its meaning. Because it was appropriated by two dictatorships, the Monument to the Bandeiras is not only linked to the original meaning of colonization and the suffering imposed by the Bandeirantes on the native population, but it is also intrinsically linked to the painful memories of the two dictatorships, one of which was one of the bloodiest periods in Brazilian history.12 The association of the Bandeirantes with the government’s ideals of hierarchy, authority, and order creates an ambivalence in the meaning of this monument, and every other monument honoring the Bandeirantes—the treatment of which has seen some change in the past twenty years. To examine the monument today, one must consider both of its meanings, the most prevalent of the two being its connection with the dictatorship, and how each has been dealt with. This is in part because between 2002 and 2016, the presidency was filled by the progressive governments of Luiz

Inácio “Lula” da Silva (2002-2011) and Dilma Rousseff (2011-2016), both former political activists who were arrested and tortured during the military dictatorship. Rousseff’s own negative experiences during the dictatorship shaped the policies she implemented once president, a series of which aimed to create a national memory of the period of the dictatorship. On May 16, 2012, she spearheaded the creation of the first National Truth Commission, composed of a group of historians who contributed to the collective historical memory of the dictatorship. Its report embodied a new narrative on violence and disrupted the hegemonic memory that presided over the country. It exposed new information on emblematic cases, such as the Death House, which led to 377 people being charged with human rights violations, and identified new documentation that had thus far been hidden.13 Furthermore, Rouseff signed the Law of Access to Informations in the same year, which moved the government another step further from being able to grasp authoritarianism again. At the core of these policies was the promotion of memory and truth to initiate national reconciliation with the dictatorial past.14 One of the results following the Truth Commission’s final report was a mass removal of busts and plaques honoring dictators by local

11 Abreu, “Monumento às Bandeiras, de Brecheret: O Passado Presente.” Arte Brasileiros. October 13, 2023. 12 Human Rights Watch, “No Justice for the Horrors of Brazil’s Military Dictatorship, 50 Years On,” Human Rights Watch, December 13, 2018, https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/12/13/no-justice-horrors-brazils-military-dictatorship-50-years.

13 Samantha Viz Quadrat, “The Historian’s Role, Public History, and the National Truth Commission in Brazil,” International Public History 3, no. 2 (2020) 14 Ibid.

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Figure 4. Apu Gomes, Monument to the Bandeirantes Painted Red After a Protest by Social and Indigenous Movements, October 3, 2013, São Paulo, Brazil. (Image © 2013 Apu Gomes, Brazil).

administrations; immediately, forty public places were renamed as a part of the project Memory Streets. While the Monument to the Bandeiras was not removed, it became increasingly scrutinized as part of the broader reevaluation of public memorials under Rousseff’s administration. Considering this, it is not surprising that the Monument to the Bandeiras has been a controversial spot in São Paulo’s landscape. As early as 1979, a group called 3NÓS3 organized a protest against the government, covering the heads of the figures in the Monument to the Bandeiras as a reference to a common method of torture enacted against political prisoners. Although critical of the monument, the protest did not aim to demystify the myth of the Bandeirante.15 Instead, it sought to underscore the monument’s strategic position—highly visible and situated 15

in a wealthy area—as a symbolic site to protest a government reflecting the values it represented. In the wake of Rousseff’s policies emphasizing memory and truth, similar protests in the 2010s became more pointed, directly confronting the monument’s role in perpetuating the legacy of colonial violence and dictatorship. This forms the second frame of reference for the monument: its depiction of colonization, destruction, and forceful seizure of native Brazilians and their lands. In 2013, a significant protest took place in São Paulo, ending its route at the Monument to the Bandeiras. This was in response to the proposed constitutional amendment PEC 215 that shifted the power to declare “indigenous territories” from the federal government to parliament. Native Brazilians were adamantly opposed to the proposal, as parliament was subject to political influence from the agricultural business in the state,

Cymbalista, 610.

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and would consequently place large amounts of native land in jeopardy.16 Protesters sprayed red ink onto the statues, creating the illusion of being coated in blood (Fig. 4). According to Renato Cymbalista, this was the first instance where contemporary struggles of Native Brazilians were linked to a critique of the ideological construction of the Bandeirantes’ heroic past through the monument.17 A leader of the indigenous TupiGuarani people, Marcos Tupã, recounted the protest’s route: From Avenida Paulista we marched towards the stone statue people call the Monument to the Bandeiras, that honors the ones who massacred us in the past. We rode on the monument with our bands, and set up a red tissue representing our ancestors’ blood. Some non-indigenous supporters understood the power of our symbolic act, and painted the monument with red ink […] with this gesture they helped us to transform this body, at least this time. It was no longer stone, it bled. It was no more a monument honoring the genocide that decimated our people and transformed it into a monument to our resistance. Occupied by our warriors, by our women and children, that new monument has enlivened the beautiful and painful history of our people, releasing 16 17

a scream to all the ones who wanted to hear it: stop the indigenous bloodshed in this country! Only at that moment that statue turned into true public heritage, because it stopped serving just the colonizers’ symbology of the elites, giving voice to us natives, who are the original occupants of Brazilian society.18 The protest marked a shift in the symbolic references associated with the monument. Its advantageous position within the city, the tradition of protesting against government actions through it, and the meaning displayed by the sculptural group linked the Bandeirantes to the suffering of the indigenous people of São Paulo. Through this, the association of the Bandeirantes with the “ideal” Paulista was reconsidered, as the voices of the marginalized were now accounted for in a new narrative. This would hopefully lead to a redefinition of the state’s heritage and identity. Equally important is the consideration of the third group depicted in the sculpture. In addition to the Portuguese Bandeirantes occupying the central position of the composition and the catechized indigenous peoples wearing crucifixes around their necks, there is a group of enslaved Africans, bound by chains while pulling the canoe

18 Comissão Guarani Yurupa, “Monumento à Resistência do Povo Guarani, Artigo de Marcos dos Santos Tupã,” October 17, 2013.

Cymbalista, 611 Ibid. 611

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used in the expedition.19 Evident in what had been stated in 1936 by an interventor, the sculptural group epitomizes hierarchy. What he does not explicitly claim, however, is what Lília Schwarcz notes to be “racial harmony.” That is, a passive parade of different ethnicities, each in their “rightful place.”20 Brecheret’s work highlights the position of power taken by the European Bandeirante through the sloping quality of the work; the two front men lead on horses, taller than the rest, and are immediately followed by other Europeans who stand tall and step forward energetically. Behind, and slightly below, are the indigenous people; behind and even lower, the enslaved Africans pull the canoe. This arrangement reinforces the racial and social dynamics deeply rooted in colonialism. While the monument highlights the values of its time, the state government’s effort to keep it in its original context—cleaning it after each wave of vandalism— ultimately upholds its colonialist and white supremacist connotations, perpetuating its original values into the 21st century. Recently, the Brazilian government has become increasingly aware of the connection between the Bandeirantes and racial hierarchy. In 2020, under the presidency of Jair Bolsonaro, the state government of São Paulo assigned round-the-clock patrols to protect the statue of Borba Gato in the Santo Amaro district, located in the southern part of the

city. This precaution was prompted by the protests that emerged in the United States following the murder of George Floyd, which reverberated in Brazil and sparked its own demonstrations.21 The statue of Manuel de Borba Gato, a prominent Bandeirante, was erected in 1963 under similar ideological premises as the Monument to the Bandeiras and has faced intense backlash for its associations with colonialism and racism. In 2021, a group of activists protesting these issues burned the statue down, labeling it a symbol of slavery.22 As noted by Ricardo Santhiago, the political scramble to protect the statue amid these protests highlights the government’s hesitation in responding to public demands for a reassessment of what should be commemorated.23 Furthermore, this tension extends beyond just the Monument to the Bandeiras and the Borba Gato statue; these two monuments are only a small part of a broader network of sculptures, avenues, highways, schools, and other works in São Paulo that celebrate the Bandeirantes, complicating the ongoing debate over what should truly be commemorated in the state.

21 Ricardo Santhiago, “De-Commemorations and the Unsettled Past in Contemporary Brazil,” in De-Commemoration: Removing Statues and Renaming Places, ed. Sarah Gensburger and Jenny Wüstenberg, 181–189, vol. 12 of Worlds of Memory (New York: Berghahn Books, 2023), 181. 22 Daniela Mercier, “Estátua do Borba Gato, símbolo da escravidão em São Paulo, é incendiada por ativistas,” El País Brasil, July 24, 2021. 23 Santhiago, “De-Commemorations and the Unsettled Past,” 181.

19 Fernandes, “Vandalismo, Iconoclastia,” Politika. 20 Ibid.

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Politics of Memory: The Need for Change

maneuver perpetuating the intended goal of cementing this legacy of the European colonizer as the victor in the narrative of colonialism in the 21st century. It is also important to note that São Paulo’s urban design was intentionally segregationist, shaped by proponents of eugenics who sought to organize the city along racial and class lines. This ideology is reflected in the strategic placement of monuments like the Monument to the Bandeiras, which, located in a prominent public space, continues to perpetuate colonial legacies and reinforce the dominance of Portuguese colonizers in the city’s historical narrative. The question of what to do with the monument has been discussed by scholars, but it is yet to be taken seriously by the state government, given that it still stands in its original position with all its original inscriptions. José Cardo Oria Fernandes notes that there is criticism regarding the removal of the sculpture from the public sphere on the basis of its status as a work of art; after all, Brecheret’s sculpture exemplifies the European plastic tradition of Art Deco.25 Cymbalista proposes that it should be removed from its place, recontextualized and inscribed with a new frame of symbolic consideration so as to create a new conceptual layer and generate a distance between the original goals of the monument and its present-day effect. He notes that it would “demonstrate that society has made a reflection upon the monument not through rage and

Although the question of how to approach monuments celebrating the Bandeirantes is not limited to the Monument to the Bandeiras, it serves as an overarching point of contention, one relating to numerous other debates over historical memory, colonial legacy, and the politics of public space. Currently, the monument stands at the edge of one of the most prominent parks in the city: Parque Ibirapuera. During colonial times, the area now known as the park was a marshy land that housed an indigenous village. The name is derived from the TupiGuarani language, “Ypy-ra-ouêra,” meaning ‘rotten wood’ a reference to the ecology of the region.24 This detail adds another layer of meaning to the work, as it commemorates the conquest of native lands by the Bandeirantes while also being situated on what was once an indigenous settlement. The monument not only reflects the disastrous actions of European colonizers across the country, but it also acts as a continuing imposition of colonialism on the very land itself, further underscoring the appropriation of local language and culture. Furthermore, the avenue circling the plaza where the monument stands front and center— ensuring constant visibility to all incoming traffic—is named after Pedro Álvares Cabral, the so-called “discoverer” of Brazil. This, again, is a 24 Urbiá Parques, “Ibirapuera,” accessed December 21, 2024, https://www.urbiaparques.com. br/parques/sobre/ibirapuera.

25 Fernandes, “Vandalismo, Iconoclastia ou Luta Pelo Direito à Memória?”

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The Monument to the Bandeiras as a public work is a testament to a time in history when the victors dominated the narrative, leaving the marginalized—indigenous peoples, enslaved Africans, and the victims of oppressive political regimes—voiceless and unseen. If left unexamined, its continued presence in the public sphere risks reappropriation by oppressive regimes, such as Bolsonaro’s, to reinforce the regressive ideals previously upheld. Unless the monument is recontextualized— removed from its original setting, placed in a museum where it can tell the stories of those who suffered because of it, and reframed to explore its connections to the dictatorship, white supremacy, and colonialism— it will remain a powerful symbol of oppression. Without this shift, the ideals embodied in the monument will persist in shaping Brazil’s historical consciousness and political landscape, making it vulnerable to a return to the dangerous ideologies of the past and for the perpetuation of discriminatory policies and behaviors that refrain the fight for civil rights to prevail.

aggression, but as an intellectual and institutional challenge.”26 However the monument is reimagined and re-contextualized, it is imperative that it is done soon and effectively. As long as it stands framed in its original context, it faces the risk of being re-appropriated by a new regime to perpetuate the archaic morals it upholds. Following the progressive governments of Lula and Rousseff, the rise of the extreme right was the reality, as was evident under the next president Jair Bolsonaro, who rose to power in 2019. While the two preceding presidents had worked to re-frame the memory of the dictatorship, Bolsonaro epitomized negationism, and was a vocal supporter of dictatorship and violent repression.27 In 2019, Bolsonaro appointed Sérgio Camargo as the director of the Palmares Foundation, a federal organ aimed at promoting the preservation of cultural, social and economic values resulting from the Black influence in the formation of Brazilian society. Camargo actively denies the existence of racism, argues that while slavery was terrible, it is now beneficial to the descendants of enslaved people, and defends the extinction of any Black rights movement.28 By appointing someone with such beliefs, it becomes evident that Bolsonaro depends on and prioritizes the values of the dictatorship, thus explaining the unwavering effort to protect the monuments which uphold those same ideals. 26 27 28

Cymbalista, 614. Santhiago, 183. Santhiago, 185.

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Isabel Tremblay, Brooklyn Skyline, 2025. Digital photograph. Manhattan, New York. Image courtesy of Isabel Tremblay.

The City of Yes in Action: Housing, Policy, and Brooklyn’s Changing Landscape Isabel Tremblay Edited by Stephanie Garcia On November 21, 2024 New York’s City Council cast a pivotal vote on Mayor Eric Adams’s City of Yes for Housing Opportunity, a landmark initiative poised to reshape the city’s landscape. The rezoning strategy consists of three policies: carbon neutrality, economic opportunity,

and housing opportunity.1 As the most comprehensive update to New York’s zoning code since 1961, the plan seeks to address the 1 “City of Yes: Overview,” New York City Department of City Planning, accessed January 30, 2025, https://www.nyc.gov/site/planning/plans/ city-of-yes/city-of-yes-overview.page.

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city’s deepening housing crisis by facilitating the creation of 109,000 new affordable housing units over the next fifteen years. Affordability, in this context, is determined by a household’s income in relation to the federally established Area Median Income (AMI), ensuring that housing costs do not exceed one-third of a household’s earnings.2 Crucially, rent regulations would prevent drastic price surges, offering longterm financial security to tenants. This initiative is particularly urgent, as in 2023, a staggering 55% of New York City residents were classified as “rent-burdened,” struggling to keep up with housing costs that consume a disproportionate share of their income.3 The program displays a promising solution for the city’s ongoing affordability crisis, but upon further analysis of Brooklyn’s Districts 1-4, there is reason for concern that the boroughs may fall victim to gentrification as well as unprecedented infrastructural strain. To curb these issues and ensure equitable growth of these communities, the city must implement measures that prioritize a careful balance between development and community preservation. This will guarantee that residents benefit

and prosper from these changes, rather than facing displacement as a result. The City of Yes initiative sparked intense debate across New York’s five boroughs when it gained momentum in early 2024, though its foundations were laid when Mayor Eric Adams took office in 2022. The most contentious aspects of the plan included the introduction of secondary housing structures known as Accessory Dwelling Units (ADUs), the loosening of zoning restrictions, and, most divisively, the removal of mandatory parking requirements for new housing developments.4 The program was under significant scrutiny from City Council members, and many viewed the city’s agenda as simply throwing money at a much more expansive issue that is riddled with complexity. Critics argued that the plan oversimplified a deeply complex housing crisis, with some City Council members viewing it as an expensive, bureaucratic fix rather than a comprehensive solution. When the proposal reached the City Council, it underwent significant revisions in response to mounting opposition. The original plan for 109,000 new housing units was scaled back to approximately 80,000 over fifteen years. Parking regulations also faced critical revisions, with the final version of the amendment creating three distinct zones: one where parking requirements were

2 “Do You Qualify for Housing Assistance?” New York City Housing Preservation and Development, accessed January 30, 2025, https:// www.nyc.gov/site/hpd/services-and-information/ do-you-qualify.page. 3 Oksana Mironova and Samuel Stein, “Our Fast Analysis of the 2021 New York City Housing and Vacancy Survey,” Community Service Society of New York (CSSNY), October 2023, https:// smhttp-ssl-58547.nexcesscdn.net/nycss/images/ uploads/pubs/101023_HVS_brief_Sept_2023_ V4.pdf.

4 Kathryn Brenzel, “Here Are the Changes That Got City of Yes Approved,” The Real Deal, November 22, 2024, https://therealdeal.com/ new-york/2024/11/21/city-council-agrees-to-cityof-yes-for-housing-opportunity/.

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multi-story apartment buildings, centers with multiple forms of public transit, and numerous mixed-use structures in Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs. The plan would allow three to five-story apartment buildings near transit centers, as well as two to four-story housing above businesses in lowdensity commercial districts,7 which would provide substantial housing expansion for areas that currently lack it. Finally, Benzel notes that “when such projects have 50 or more housing units, at least 20% of housing must be permanently set aside for those earning 80% of the area median income.”8 This is key to ensuring that these new housing developments support current community members, rather than exclusively benefiting new residents in higher income brackets. Without strict regulation by the city government, the City of Yes initiative could inadvertently accelerate gentrification in historically workingclass and minority neighborhoods. Including the neighborhoods of northern Brooklyn, Community Board Districts 1-4 have undergone significant demographic and economic shifts over the past two decades (Fig. 1). District 1 spans from Greenpoint to Williamsburg, home to families and a large Hasidic Jewish population that has significantly shaped the culture of the neighborhoods. The district began as one of the city’s industrial centers and has since evolved into a commercial hub with extensive

Figure 1. Ontheworldmap.com team, Map of Brooklyn Neighborhoods, 2023. Digital map. Ontheworldmap.com. Image courtesy of Ontheworldmap.com.

eliminated entirely, another where they were partially reduced, and a third where they largely remained.5 Parking minimums were removed in several of the city’s 59 districts, including Brooklyn’s 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, and 7, as well as districts in Manhattan and Queens. Additionally, the City Council required that new developments include affordable housing to support lower- and middle-income residents who are increasingly being priced out of desirable neighborhoods. Real estate journalist Kathryn Brenzel notes that the affordability requirements implemented by the plan were for large, transit-oriented and town-center developments.6 These developments specifically refer to dense areas of the city, including 5 6

Ibid. Ibid.

7 8

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Figure 2. Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA), Official New York City Subway Map, 2025. Digital map. MTA, New York. Image courtesy of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA), New York. (Map © 1996–2025 MTA, New York).

office space. District 2 includes Dumbo, Brooklyn Heights, and Fort Greene, forming most of the heart of downtown Brooklyn. Like District 1, this area started as a civic center. These neighborhoods were originally home to factories and warehouses and have

since developed into an epicenter for shopping and education, with institutions like the Pratt Institute and New York University’s Tandon School of Engineering located in this district. District 3 consists solely of Bedford-Stuyvesant, a primarily 32

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Figure 3. Metropolitan Transportation Authority, Official New York City Bus Map, 2025. Digital map. Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA), New York. Image courtesy of the MTA. (Map © 1996– 2020 MTA, New York).

lower-income, Black neighborhood throughout most of the 20th century.9 It has evolved drastically over the last 15 years, attracting higher-income

residents and becoming a desirable district for young, affluent New York City transplants. District 4 includes the Bushwick neighborhood, which has a dark history of industrial development plagued by crime and unrest.10 However, over the past two decades, the area has undergone significant development, driven by an

9 Greg Young, “Treasures of Downtown Brooklyn: Remnants of the Former Independent City, Hidden in Plain Sight,” The Bowery Boys: New York City History, January 5, 2019, https:// www.boweryboyshistory.com/2019/01/treasuresof-downtown-brooklyn-remnants-of-the-formerindependent-city-hidden-in-plain-sight.html.

10

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influx of artists and the growth of the neighborhood’s queer community. Once industrial and working-class neighborhoods, Districts 1-4 have increasingly become hubs for affluent professionals and developers who price long time residents out of their communities. Together they provide a critical case study for examining the potential impacts and limitations of the City of Yes program for housing opportunity. Although Districts 1-4 are now the most densely populated areas of the borough, Brooklyn’s transportation infrastructure lags behind—a fact that becomes evident when examining the MTA subway map (Fig. 2). Northwest Brooklyn, in particular, has significant gaps in public transit coverage. While Atlantic Avenue in Downtown Brooklyn is a subway hub for the borough, only five subway lines serve the District 1-4 area: the L, M, J, Z, and G. By comparison, there are eight subway lines in downtown Queens and 19 lines serving Midtown Manhattan. Moreover, while some of these lines extend beyond Brooklyn, their reach remains limited. The G train, for example, only serves the southern portion of Queens, while the J and Z lines primarily cater to Eastern Queens. Four of the lines connect to Manhattan, but their coverage is narrow—the L train is confined to 14th Street for crosstown service, while the J and Z lines primarily serve Lower Manhattan and SoHo. In addition to these inter-borough limitations, these lines have a limited number of stations within Brooklyn itself, making transit access more

difficult for residents in Districts 1-4. More often than not, trips require transfers to access districts south of the 1-4 area, adding to commuters’ overall travel time. The districts’ bus system makes up for these significant shortcomings with routes covering just about every avenue in the Brooklyn Heights to Bed-Stuy area (Fig 3). However, even these bus lines become less frequent as one makes their way into Williamsburg and Greenpoint. Riders may need to walk across multiple avenues to reach the nearest bus stop. The elimination of parking minimums in Districts 1-4 under City of Yes intends to motivate residents to use public transit. However, without significant structural improvements in subway and bus service, residents may face increased commute times and overcrowding. Expansions to infrastructure and financial support for these systems are necessary to avoid existing limitations from undermining the potential growth and prosperity promised by the housing initiative. Climate and development journalist Samantha Maldonado highlights the growing anti-parking movement across the U.S., noting its role in housing affordability efforts.11 She points to its success in Minneapolis, where the city slashed parking requirements as part of 2020 land use reforms– an action the Pew 11 Samantha Maldonado, “How Parking Will Drive the Coming Adams-Council Housing Development Deal,” THE CITY - NYC News, December 3, 2024, https://www.thecity. nyc/2024/11/19/parking-mandates-planningcity-yes/.

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Charitable Trusts deemed a “blueprint for housing affordability.”12 Removing parking minimums allows developers to repurpose land for housing, whether on a large scale, such as converting parking lots into residential buildings, or in smaller spaces like backyards for Accessory Dwelling Units. Dan Garodnick, director of the NYC Department of City Planning and chair of the City Planning Commission, has echoed this sentiment, stating during a City Council hearing in October that parking mandates are “not only expensive, but [they] directly compete with housing production.”13 In New York City, eliminating parking requirements could free up significant space for additional housing units and reduce construction costs, enabling developers to allocate funds elsewhere. Proponents argue that although initially, the removal of parking minimums might increase congestion as residents adjust, over time, a decrease in car ownership could lead to reduced traffic and more available street space. Hypothetically, Brooklyn neighborhoods could begin to resemble Manhattan, with increased density, taller buildings, and expanded public transit. If fewer residents relied on private transportation, businesses might

cluster closer together, improving walkability and accessibility. However, the success of these outcomes would depend on careful urban planning and substantial infrastructure investment. While this approach has seen success in cities like Minneapolis, its effectiveness in Northern Brooklyn is far more uncertain due to the borough’s limited subway and bus infrastructure. Many residents rely on cars for transportation, and the removal of parking mandates without corresponding transit improvements could leave thousands struggling with both inadequate public transportation and fewer parking options. While supporters have compared this transition to car-free districts with the current environment in Manhattan, Manhattan’s public transportation system is better equipped to handle a car-free ecosystem than downtown Brooklyn. Unlike Minneapolis, where development reforms were paired with transit expansion efforts, Brooklyn’s already strained transit system risks being overwhelmed, exacerbating existing commuting challenges rather than alleviating them. The New York Times investigated the challenges facing New York’s already struggling subway system. Ryan Britt, who expanded on the story for Inverse writes: …the light signals that are used underground to let trains know that they are safe to proceed are engineered and operated essentially in the same way that they were in the early 20th century. Damningly,

12 Linlin Liang, Adam Staveski, and Alex Horowitz, “Minneapolis’ Land Use Reforms Offer a Blueprint for Housing Affordability,” The Pew Charitable Trusts, January 4, 2024, https:// www.pewtrusts.org/en/research-and-analysis/ articles/2024/01/04/minneapolis-land-use-reforms-offer-a-blueprint-for-housing-affordability. 13 Maldonado, “How Parking Will Drive the Coming Adams-Council Housing Development Deal.”

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this statement reveals that the MTA never knows exactly where the trains are on the track at any given time, but instead is aware of the section of track they occupy.14

private developers to build more housing, relying on them alone risks prioritizing profit over community needs. Without strong government oversight, new developments may cater to higher-income residents rather than addressing affordability. To prevent this, the city must enforce regulations ensuring projects contribute to infrastructure improvements and long-term community stability. The City Council has offered incentives for affordable housing,16 but without accountability, these promises may not lead to meaningful solutions. Holistically though, there are four core areas in which Brooklyn’s infrastructure in Districts 1-4 needs improvement to support the expected changes: expanding bus service, upgrading the subway system, increasing funding for greenspaces, and expanding local government services to support a growing population. Transportation upgrades are the first priority. District 1, in particular, faces inconsistent bus service with fewer stops than the other three districts.17 Expanding bus routes to areas like Greenpoint and Williamsburg could improve accessibility and make public transit a more viable option for car owners. Similarly, the subway system needs a major overhaul to either add more stops or introduce a new line from Brooklyn Heights to Jackson Heights.

The outdated subway technology is another reason for increased unreliability within the system. Without proper location and mapping data, these trains are much more likely to face delays and pileups. Ultimately, as riders are more inclined to take public transit in these areas, they will face the issues resulting from obsolete signaling equipment. According to a New York Post’s analysis of the MTA’s 2023 data summary, the current system already suffers from unreliability, with only 84% of subway trains running on time system-wide. This will only be exacerbated by the incoming growth and development across the New York City metropolitan area. Buses, though on a lesser scale, will experience similar issues due to a significant increase in ridership. Many Brooklyn residents remain uncertain about the changes these measures will bring, fearing parking shortages, increased strain on public transit, and further gentrification.15 While the City of Yes incentivizes 14 Ryan Britt, “MTA Subway Delays Have Finally Been Explained,” Inverse, February 3, 2018, https://www.inverse.com/article/40898-mta-delays-subway-new-york-city-nyt. 15 Ali Bauman and Natalie Duddridge, “New Yorkers Worry ‘City of Yes’ Will Bring Too Much Development to Unequipped Neighborhoods,” CBS News, October 22, 2024, https://www. cbsnews.com/newyork/news/city-of-yes-low-density-neighborhoods/.

16 Brenzel, “Here Are the Changes That Got City of Yes Approved.” 17 “Brooklyn Bus Service 5261: Route Map and Schedule,” MTA.info, November 2023, https:// new.mta.info/map/5261.

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This new route would provide a smoother commute for residents between Brooklyn and Queens, though the immense cost makes it unlikely. Expanded stops into Queens from the G line or vertical expansion through Manhattan on the L line would help commuters avoid extra transfers and delays. It would also cut down travel time immensely. This is a much more realistic plan for subway infrastructure as it resembles the Second Avenue Subway expansion plan in Manhattan. The first phase of the plan extended the Q line from 63rd Street to 96th Street, while the current phase-two extends the line to 125th Street and subsequent phases will extend the line into Lower Manhattan to create a full subway line along Manhattan’s 2nd Avenue.18 By improving existing infrastructure and building in phases, the city saves money and avoids longterm construction issues that result from a massive configuration with a single-phase timeline. Nevertheless, it is still an ambitious endeavor for the city and would take an extensive amount of time to complete. Beyond the region’s insufficient transit system, the city must also invest in community resources to support Downtown Brooklyn’s growing population. Funding for greenspaces is essential, as it is often families that gravitate to affordable housing developments, and they need access to parks and recreational areas.

Increased funding for existing and new parks will foster development and community efforts into neighborhoods making up Districts 1-4. In addition, local government offices, such as postal offices and police departments need to be built in closer proximity to each other. The decrease in private transportation will lead residents to form smaller communities, and as these denser areas develop, government precincts may become strained under the pressure of more residents within a smaller radius. Increased demand could exhaust existing facilities. Expansions and strategic relocations of these offices are necessary to ensure residents receive adequate public services. By addressing these infrastructure gaps, Northern Brooklyn would see a drastic increase in efficiency and reliability. This would allow residents to rely on the public infrastructure, making it easier to travel across the city to work and fostering a flourishing community with increased wealth and equity. Residents will have the opportunity to find better jobs farther from home as well as spend more time within their community as they spend less time commuting to work and school. If there is infrastructure to support the expansion within Districts 1-4, the borough will be able to prosper within the parameters of the City of Yes proposition. Alternatively, if the region cannot handle extensive development, then the City Council can expect the City of Yes plan to fall short of its desired outcomes. One of the greatest fears

18 Reed Tucker, “Why New York City Will Never Build Another Subway Station,” New York Post, July 4, 2020, https://nypost. com/2020/07/04/why-new-york-city-will-neverbuild-another-subway-station/.

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surrounding the City of Yes is the possibility of gentrification as a result of the plan. Many worry that the promises of affordable housing will not be fulfilled. The plan could instead bring about towers of luxury housing that dominate historical neighborhoods and displace locals. CBS News interviewed several New York City residents about this issue, with one person saying the plan, “will create market rate and luxury housing, while incentivizing demolition of historic neighborhoods and replacement of existing affordable and rent-regulated housing.”19 This is a valid concern regarding what could occur if the city fails to strictly enforce regulations on required affordable housing minimums for new developments. Another interviewee questioned the future side effects, saying, “Will it increase or decrease economic and racial segregation in our town?”20 If the aforementioned changes regarding infrastructural support are not implemented, then downtown Brooklyn risks displacing many of its residents, including those who form the borough’s historic communities. The area’s current diverse population could be jeopardized by developers and real estate investors looking to buy up land and increase the value of the area. Long-time residents could face high rents and even eviction if they cannot afford the increasing price tags on homes, condos, and apartments in each of the four

districts. According to Best Neighborhood’s map of average household income in Brooklyn, the lowest-income areas in Districts 1-4 are South Williamsburg, BedfordStuyvesant, and Bushwick.21 These neighborhoods are most vulnerable to the influx of new development because many residents lack the financial resources to protect themselves from the influx of new wealthy individuals who will drive up the cost of living. These transplants will bring expensive brands and restaurants to the area, gradually raising the average prices of goods and services. Already, these neighborhoods have been targeted by gentrification. Reporter Kashief Hairston cites this issue in an interview from 2018 with BedStuy resident and affordable housing advocate Karen Garcia: People were already facing homelessness due to the lack of resources, but gentrification even heightens it because these landlords are tailoring their rents to people who are leaving the places they’re from and want to come to the hip and urban neighborhoods.” says [Garcia]. Young urban professionals are a part of the problem — while not their fault — landlords are to shoulder most of the blame, such as demolishing interior walls in one of these instances.

19 Bauman and Duddridge, “New Yorkers Worry ‘City of Yes’ Will Bring Too Much Development.” 20 Ibid.

21 “Highest and Lowest Income Areas in Brooklyn, NY,” Best Neighborhood, accessed February 1, 2025, https://bestneighborhood.org/ household-income-brooklyn-ny/.

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From 1990 to 2014, rent in Bed-Stuy has gone up by 36.1%.22

density. At this point, the city government can either choose to assist in this development and protect its already vulnerable residents or maintain its laissez-faire stance and allow developers to ravage the local landscape. Regulating urban development with the interests of the community in mind will prevent residents from being priced out of their homes and protect the local small business economy. In the final iteration of the plan, progressive representatives attempted to follow the latter decision with investment into the city’s infrastructure. Forbes reporter Richard McGahey states, “Progressives negotiated another $5 billion in city and state funding for affordable housing, infrastructure, tenant protection measures, and focusing eligibility for affordable housing on lowerincome households.”23 This will support development across all five boroughs in order to aid these housing measures. However, many may find that this funding will not meet the sheer costs that the city requires in order to compete with the speed of private development. This includes funding for the various parts of infrastructural improvements and affordable housing development, including construction labor, materials, legal permits, and investment in legal backing regarding

Without proper intervention— like tenant and business advocacy, investment into community services, and the expansion of greenspaces and public transit—rents could multiply even more than at the turn of the century. The pandemic combatted some of this growth, but as New York recovers from Covid-19 and development grows more and more with increased incentivization, we are beginning to see a repetition in the overall trend of massgentrification. This phenomenon launches culturally significant neighborhoods into states of urban blandness in which every new piece of construction resembles a steel-framed glass rectangle with a complementary billboard entitled “luxury urban loft” or “new retail space available.” Mayor Adams’ City of Yes for Housing Opportunity will bring significant changes to New York City’s metropolitan area as a whole. Increased development and housing will improve the city’s housing crisis and allow communities to grow equitably. Brooklyn’s northern Districts 1-4 are a core region likely to experience the most change and growth as a result of these measures. They are the only districts facing the removal of all mandated parking and an increase in their permitted

23 Richard McGahey, “‘City Of Yes’: Promising but Won’t Solve New York Housing Crisis,” Forbes, December 3, 2024, https://www.forbes. com/sites/richardmcgahey/2024/11/30/city-ofyes-promising-but-wont-solve-new-york--housingcrisis/.

22 Kashief Hairston, “The Truth behind Gentrification in Bed-Stuy,” Medium, December 21, 2018, https://medium.com/@kashief.hairston/ the-truth-behind-gentrification-in-bed-stuy6b20cd484e41.

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tenant protections. For reference, the first phase of the Second Avenue expansion in Manhattan, which finished in 2017, was crowned “The World’s Most Expensive Subway Line” by Bloomberg: “At $2.5 billion per mile, construction costs for the 1.8mile Phase 1 of the Second Avenue Subway were 8 to 12 times more expensive than similar subway projects in Italy, Istanbul, Sweden, Paris, Berlin and Spain, according to a report from New York University’s Marron Institute of Urban Management.”24 Five billion dollars in infrastructure funding is a significant accomplishment, especially in a period of American history where public funding is scarce. However, this amount of money is far from enough to meet the needs of not just Northern Brooklyn, but the entire city. The only solution is to increase long-term government investment for each of the boroughs. The city must build with the population in mind and develop for the sake of the community, not in spite of it. Developers must be incentivized to build affordable housing or else the City of Yes proposition will fail. The city must also be committed to resolving the housing crisis in order for this 15-year housing plan to reach its full potential. The political unrest following President Trump’s inauguration has

left many government initiatives in limbo as the country moves away from infrastructural intervention. With Mayor Adams facing a possible conviction for corruption, only time will tell how committed the city will remain to the City of Yes. Regardless of the state of this initiative, it is up to every member of New York City’s government to promote healthy, universal growth for each of its neighborhoods and advocate for its 8.26 million residents, regardless of income.

24 Skylar Woodhouse, “In NYC Subway, a Case Study in Runaway Transit Construction Costs,” Bloomberg.com, February 23, 2023, https://www. bloomberg.com/news/articles/2023-02-23/in-nycsubway-a-case-study-in-runaway-transit-construction-costs.

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Motive, Means, and Opportunity:

Comparing Exhibition Design at The Met and the Brooklyn Museum Riley J. Schmidt

Edited by Sofia Portal

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Within the last five years, both The Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Brooklyn Museum have temporarily closed their African Art galleries in order to renovate their respective collections, with a focus on innovating and decolonizing the display of African art. In the interim, both institutions also inaugurated temporary exhibitions, maintaining the global nature of their collections during the closures of their main galleries. These were The Met’s The African Origin of Civilization and the Brooklyn Museum’s Sakimatwemtwe: A Century of Reflection on the Arts of Africa exhibitions. In describing their temporary exhibition, curators at The Met emphasized that they took inspiration from Senegalese author, humanist, and scholar Cheikh Anta Diop, the first to claim that Egypt was an African civilization. This exhibition was located on the first floor, nested within the permanent Egyptian galleries, and was on view between December 14th, 2021, and October 6th, 2024, acting as both a placeholder and a preview until the African galleries’ May 2025 reopening.1 Eleven miles away, the Brooklyn Museum also showed a temporary African art exhibition in close proximity to Egyptian galleries. Sakimatwemtwe: A Century of Reflection on the Arts of Africa opened in 2023 and, like The African Origin of Civilization, will act as the museum’s predominant African art

gallery until 2026, when the African art galleries are predicted to reopen. The exhibition was curated in honor of an important centennial: 2023 marks a hundred years since the opening of the Brooklyn Museum’s historic Primitive Negro Art, Chiefly from the Belgian Congo exhibition. Building on a longstanding tradition of appreciating the aesthetic value of African art, Sakimatwemtwe: A Century of Reflection on the Arts of Africa reaffirms the Brooklyn Museum’s commitment to celebrating the arts of Africa and its diaspora. Although both institutions possess geographically and chronologically diverse African art collections, the curatorial decisions shaping these two exhibitions— along with each museum’s distinctive design and layout choices—offer insight into divergent curatorial visions and underlying institutional agendas. When designing a gallery space, it is the curator’s responsibility to advocate for each piece, to place them in an environment that emphasizes their form and historical context.2 The relationship between the museum and artwork is reciprocal: the museum is only as “good” as its most “famous” works, and the work gains value from the museum in which it resides.3 The curator of an 2 Carol Duncan, Civilizing Rituals: Inside Public Art Museums (London: Routledge, 1995), 10–15. 3 Pierre Bourdieu and Alain Darbel, The Love of Art: European Art Museums and Their Public, trans. Caroline Beattie and Nick Merriman (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), 111–115.

1 The Metropolitan Museum of Art, “The African Origin of Civilization,” accessed November 21, 2024, https://www.metmuseum. org/exhibitions/african-origin-of-civilization.

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exhibition or permanent installation understands this and, for the most part, will take one of two paths in showcasing art. The first is the minimalist, high-contrast, whitegallery option. In this concept, nothing distracts the visitor from the works themselves. The objects seem to pop out from the walls, standing out prominently and often appearing in isolation. Typically illuminated with bright, focused lighting, this approach emphasizes the formal qualities of each piece. The second approach, which is more common than the white, minimalist gallery, seeks to evoke the historical context of the works themselves by placing pieces into environments that subtly hint at a context relevant to the works. Taking inspiration from the works’ country of origin or provenance, this concept pairs well with museums that are organized geographically or by time period. Considering these two approaches, a question emerges. Is it better to emphasize the cultural and historical context of artworks, or to allow the works to “speak for themselves?” This question must challenge curators in charge of African collections frequently. African works appear in museums in conjunction with a troubled history involving colonization, looting and racism.4 A museum must decide whether or not to address this history. A pure, minimalist, art-gallery approach can sometimes separate a work from the particularly difficult histories

of collecting and the politics that shape how African artworks found their way into museums outside of Africa in the first place. Reciprocally, designing an exhibition that reflects difficult histories can be equally as challenging. African art exhibitions often showcase works from many parts of the continent and from many different time periods. This can lead to simplistic generalizations and homogenizing interpretations, which often inadvertently reproduce biases and outdated tropes. Public museums like The Met and the Brooklyn Museum have an undeniable influence on the public. It is part of their mission to supply the people they serve with factually accurate accounts of history, and it is their responsibility as museums to represent art in a setting that is both respectful and befitting of its status. The African Origin of Civilization Tucked neatly into the Egyptian Galleries, The Metropolitan Museum’s The African Origin of Civilization exhibition highlights twenty-one carefully selected works from diverse African societies and cultures. Each piece, originating from different regions across the continent, is paired with an ancient Egyptian artwork, emphasizing shared subject matter or formal qualities. The museum makes clear the motivation behind this, with a quote from Cheikh Anta Diop on the wall coupled with a section titled “The African Origin of Civilization.” The quote reads, “The history of

4 Dan Hicks, The British Museums: The Benin Bronzes, Colonial Violence and Cultural Restitution (London: Pluto Press, 2020), 45–50.

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Africa will remain suspended in air and cannot be written correctly until African historians connect it with the history of Egypt.” Yet with the objects paired together for comparison, the emphasis on similarities between ancient Egypt and modern Africa inadvertently suggests that everything in Africa is the same across time and space. Another motive for this comparative model is described in the text written below the quote. This segment, placed just to the left of the entrance, begins with the phrase, “The birthplace of modern humanity, Africa has been the locus from which the earliest migrations moved across the globe.”5 Throughout the rest of the passage, phrases referring to Africa as the “source” or the “cradle” of humankind are used, a sentiment echoed in the room’s design and layout. Walls painted in dark shades of green or black, and with minimal lighting, the primeval, womblike atmosphere within the room reiterates this message: humanity shares a common ancestor originating in Africa. The concept of Africa as the womb of humankind is a common one, and is echoed in The African Origin of Civilization exhibition. The exhibition distributes the popular idea of Africa as the origins of humankind, the cradle of evolution. Terms associated with motherhood (cradle, birthplace, etc.), and by creating a primordial atmosphere within the exhibition, the museum quietly establishes

the concept of Africa as mankind’s metaphorical mother. This generates respect and reverence in visitors, but it also suggests all Africa and African art are only about the distant past or ancient. This is especially odd because many of the works on display date from the late 19th and early 20th century. The overarching themes of the exhibition link human evolution and sociocultural genesis to Africa, suggesting that Africa’s defining moment occurred during prehistoric times, and subsequent developments pale in comparison to that defining epoch. Sakimatwemtwe: A Century of Reflection on the Arts of Africa While The Metropolitan Museum focuses on Africa as a metaphorical navel of humanity, the Brooklyn Museum’s Sakimatwemtwe: A f of Reflection on the Arts of Africa exhibition hones in on the museum’s past, with varying effect. Since the 1923 opening of its exhibition Primitive Negro Art, Chiefly from the Belgian Congo, the museum has presented African material culture as art rather than just an anthropological artifact.6 This approach, while fairly commonplace in the 21st century, was novel in the past, when most African art was held in ethnographic museums and 6 Victoria L. Rovine, “African Art: A Century at the Brooklyn Museum,” African Arts 45, no. 4 (2012): 94-95, http://proxy.library.nyu. edu/login?qurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww. proquest.com%2Fscholarly-journals%2Fafrican-art-century-at-brooklyn-museum%2Fdocview%2F1239979288%2Fse-2%3Faccountid%3D12768.

5 African Origin of Civilization (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2021-2024), wall text.

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labeled “primitive.” By placing value in the aesthetic quality of African artworks, the Brooklyn Museum challenged the entire category of “primitive art.” Ideas of Primitivism and the primitive are now recognized as problematic, and this is in part due to actions such as those of the Brooklyn Museum.7 A pioneer in the field, the museum recognizes its place in history and recalls those revolutionary approaches with this Sakimatwemtwe Spotlight exhibition. With bright daylight shining through a window at one end of the room and walls painted in white and blue, the set-up of Gallery 6 in the Egyptian Galleries seems to be the perfect antithesis of The Met’s exhibition. Yellow accents continue to brighten the space, which brings focus to the works shown in the original 1923 exhibition. With modern context and perspectives, these works can be brought into a new light, both figuratively and literally. The artworks displayed are predominantly 19th and 20thcentury compositions, and the timeline extends into the modern era thanks to a work by Ernest Mancoba, which hangs on the far wall. Despite this broad timeline, the exhibition itself is small, with around ten objects and an assortment of paper-based works.8

Figure 1. Isabel Waring, Installation view featuring Antelope Sculpture, The African Origin of Civilization, 2023. Digital photograph. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Image courtesy of Isabel Waring.

The small size of The African Origin of Civilization and the Sakimatwemtwe places extreme emphasis on details that would have otherwise seemed insignificant. Consider the timeline circling the upper wall of The Met’s exhibition. At first glance, a timeline of significant milestones in the history of the African continent seems standard within an African art exhibition. Museums everywhere, such as the Harn Museum of Art, the High Museum of Art, and the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, all chronologize their collections, placing works on and within a timeline of the continent. However, the fact that the events relating to Egypt are a separate color from those relating to Africa pushes a wedge

7 Jack D. Flam and Miriam Deutch, eds., Primitivism and Twentieth-Century Art: A Documentary History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 212–215. 8 The Metropolitan Museum of Art, “The African Origin of Civilization: Paired Works,” accessed November 21, 2024, https://www. metmuseum.org/exhibitions/african-origin-of-

civilization/paired-works.

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between the two, creating separate categories for each. Diop’s quote, which stated that African history and Egyptian history must be merged to form a complete understanding of Africa, is at odds with this design decision. Additionally, a timeline that spans from 3,000,000 BCE to 2023 seems extensive for an exhibition that mainly shows African art from the 19th to 20th centuries (Fig. 1). It is as if, in their attempt to center their exhibition around human evolution and the tangible link all mankind has to Africa, the designers overlooked the importance of an object’s individual context. There is no chance for understanding a creation without understanding the creator and their circumstances. We cannot simply build history by pairing dates and events with objects. Why take the timeline into 2023 when the exhibition features no contemporary art or artists? Why include the theorized date of human origination when the earliest works date to the 16th century? Comparatively, the Brooklyn Museum’s Sakimatwemtwe exhibition is cleanly linked to the museum’s historic Primitive Negro Art display. A Spotlight exhibition is a temporary exhibition within the Brooklyn Museum that hopes to place focus on less-represented areas and emphasize noteworthy collections.9 With the Sakimatwemtwe exhibition, the museum hoped to revisit its origins as a trailblazer within the field of African art. This element

connects the works, which the museum has placed in conversation with more contemporary pieces. All together, the display is small, but chronologically complete. Like most Spotlight exhibitions, the Sakimatwemtwe display and curation are brief, designed to give the visitor an easily digestible taste of the chosen topic. A simple background, made of intersecting blocks of white, blue, and yellow outlines, the works without drawing the viewer’s attention away from them. This small gallery, outlined in primary colors, becomes a part of the context through which the viewer understands the works. It is a puzzle piece that connects the museum’s past to its future. With the Spotlight exhibition in place, the Brooklyn Museum is able to maintain continuity in one hundred years of proudly showcasing art from the African continent. A crucial design portion of a Spotlight exhibition is its localized focus on a specific niche within the museum collection. The Brooklyn Museum’s Sakimatwemtwe exhibition fits this design, bringing attention to the museum’s historic work within the field of African art and showcasing works from an area that would have otherwise been removed from display during the remodel of the African Galleries. A spotlight, not only on the museum’s historic work and dedication to the display and understanding of the arts of Africa, but on the museum’s intentions in establishing the exhibition. With Sakimatwemtwe in place, the museum can continue to cater to its community and promote

9 Brooklyn Museum, “Exhibitions,” accessed March 27, 2025, https://www.brooklynmuseum. org/exhibitions.

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education and understanding during a time of renovation. A hundred years since the museum’s seminal exhibition, and their celebratory display has been awarded a secondary purpose: maintaining the legacy it started. This secondary purpose, like the first, is fulfilled by the display. The collection is diverse and contains works from artists from a variety of time periods and contexts. Displayed in a well-lit, simply decorated space, the Sakimatwemtwea exhibition shoulders the weight of both the past and the future. It takes the excitement generated by the centennial and holds it, presenting a selection of their collection to the public to consume and ruminate on until the African galleries reopen. That being said, the works are still largely displayed within a Western curatorial framework. This can be seen in the object centered display that the exhibition favors, the simple background emphasizing the pristine boxes that the works are stored in. The exhibition’s web page describes the museum’s approach to the Sakimatwemtwea exhibition as a “holistic” one.10 While this term may be applicable to the chronological frame, it does not pertain to the works within the exhibition. It is here where the literal placement of objects side by side could be used to make a point. Instead, the Brooklyn Museum has contradicted its holistic

theme of interconnectedness by showcasing works separate from one another, with each work existing within its own space. Furthermore, connections that may seem natural in a setting that connects the works are difficult to draw within a non-specific space. While a white cube aesthetic is the proper choice for curators who wish to keep the focus on the object itself, the issue of context comes back into play. Encouraging visitors to draw connections between works without explicit reference as to what kind of context the connections could exist in can be enlightening, but also damaging. Both the museum’s collection and the African continent are large and influential enough that more attention should be allotted to this temporary exhibition, especially one that maintains the museum’s longstanding tradition for the three years it is projected to take to renovate the African Art galleries. It goes without saying that in the grand scheme of things, African galleries in museums have been grossly undervalued and underfunded.11 With the redesign of the Brooklyn Museum’s African galleries (as well as The Met’s), a spotlight is placed on the continent and the creative expression that it has fostered throughout time. Using a Spotlight exhibition as a way to lead up to the unveiling of these new galleries is a clever way of teasing what has since past, and what is yet to come. In this way, the spotlight never leaves the African continent, it acts as a vessel to carry public interest from one exhibition to the next. The

10 “Sakimatwemtwe: A Century of Reflection on the Arts of Africa.” Brooklyn Museum, n.d. https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/ sakimatwemtwe_a_century_of_reflection_on_ the_arts_of_africa.

11 Christraud Geary, The International Impact of African Art (Munich: Prestel, 2013), 48–51.

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Figure 2. Danny Perez, Installation view of Sakimatwemtwe: A Century of Reflection on the Arts of Africa, 2023-2025. Digital photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn, New York. Image courtesy of the Brooklyn Museum, New York.

Figure 3. Danny Perez, Installation view of Sakimatwemtwe: A Century of Reflection on the Arts of Africa, 2023-2025. Digital photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn, New York. Image courtesy of the Brooklyn Museum, New York.

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choices create an interesting case of juxtaposition. The Metropolitan Museum designed a space that made several references to what is stereotypically African through color, anthropological and genealogical focus, and lighting. Dark, earthy colors with low light and a significant emphasis on Africa as the cradle of humankind project the concept of Africa as a primordial, unchanging cave of human creation. The Brooklyn Museum brings forward the opposite. With a blue, yellow, and white theme, a clean, primary color palette is presented as the backdrop for the artwork. Natural light shines in, and no direct suggestions are made through design (Figs. 2, 3). These choices are intended to be neutral; no changes would be necessary if a completely different exhibition were moved into the space. The question these two spaces present relates to a common question museums face when displaying African art: Is it better to make design choices that relate in some way back to personal African prejudice, or design a space completely removed from the subject? This query has no correct answer but poses an intriguing riddle for curators designing exhibitions, specifically for African art. Both museums seem to agree on the design for other galleries, such as the sandy white Egyptian wings, but struggle to find a middle ground between the controversial biases that color the walls of The Met’s show and the overly neutral design of the Brooklyn Museum’s exhibition that avoids expressing any bias. Understandably, the creation of

Figure 4. Isabel Waring, Installation view featuring the section “Personifying Forces,” The African Origin of Civilization, 2023. Digital photograph. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Image courtesy of Isabel Waring.

philosophy behind the Brooklyn Museum’s Spotlight exhibitions aims to facilitate conversation between “art, history, and justice,”12 and it succeeds. That being said, a place must be allocated for the decolonization of the space. The Brooklyn Museum cannot rely on an exceptionally non-offensive setting and references to past practice. An institution as renowned as it is, the museum must allocate the attention, time, and space that is necessary to establish itself as the pioneer that it is. With the upcoming opening of the African galleries, I believe that it will. In viewing and discussing these two temporary exhibitions, the museums’ respective design 12 “Exhibitions,” Brooklyn Museum, n.d. https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions

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temporary exhibitions is a complex process. Curators face numerous challenges, from finding appropriate space for the display to designing an environment that enhances the artworks while considering their historical context. Every choice made sends a message to the museum’s audience, shaping their understanding of the art. The creation of interim exhibitions shows a dedication to the goal of the global museum, but simply creating these spaces is not enough. As both museums continue their renovations, their challenge lies in balancing the need for contextual awareness with the desire for a neutral, respectful presentation—an ongoing dialogue that will undoubtedly influence future exhibitions and the role of African art in global museum spaces. As global institutions, tourist attractions, and education based businesses, both The Met and the Brooklyn Museum must shoulder the weight of the works that they advocate for, and the context that they place them in.

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Notes

Short-Form Academic Papers

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Thresholds of Perception:

A Critical Study of Kenneth Noland’s Blue Veil Clementine Parr Edited by Sofia Portal

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When considering Kenneth Noland’s Blue Veil, 1963, Wassily Kandinsky’s discussion of the deep, immersive quality of blue seems unavoidable. In his 1912 Concerning the Spiritual in Art, Kandinsky states, “The power of profound meaning is found in blue,” commenting on the color’s propensity to “move in upon itself.”1 In Blue Veil, submerged in this boundless azure, resides Noland’s quintessential chevron motif. The piece is composed of three individual chevrons, two of mossy hues, activated by a third, candy-colored chevron that prompts a pulsating back-and-forth motion within the suspension of time induced by the blue’s quiet intensity. Given its streamlined appearance, the chevron inevitably evokes the structured precision of a vehicle. Critics such as Michael Fried and Alex Taylor have emphasised the mechanical nature of Noland’s work, situating it within broader art historical discussions of modernist abstraction seen in the writings of Clement Greenberg and Rosalind Krauss. However, rather than tethering it to the materialist implications of modern transport, this paper aims to explore the chevron’s potential to operate as a symbolic vessel, a means of transporting the viewer beyond the confines of the material world into realms of spiritual introspection, unearthed in the all-encompassing blue. Using Blue Veil as an entry point, I propose an alternative

Figure 1. Kenneth Noland, Blue Veil, 1963. Synthetic polymer paint on canvas, 69 7/8 × 69 7/8 in. Museum of Modern Art, New York. Image courtesy of the Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. (Artwork © 2025 Kenneth Noland Foundation/ Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York)

framework for interpreting Noland’s work. Instead of placing it within the well-established modernist ethos, characterized by a relentless forward momentum, as argued by Michael Fried, or aligning it with the commercial mass production of 1960s America and its military associations, as suggested by Alex Taylor and John Coplans, I will examine how a spiritual and ecological lens, rooted in Kandinsky’s philosophy of blue and informed by Helen Frankenthaler’s soak-stain technique, offers a more expansive reading of Blue Veil (Fig. 1), one that transcends these established associations. Michael Fried, a modernist art critic and art historian, discussed at length the deductive quality of Noland’s work: The way his artworks seemingly “derive or ‘deduce’ pictorial structure from the literal character of

1 Wassily Kandinsky, Concerning the Spiritual in Art, trans. M.T.H. Sadler (New York: Dover Publications, 1977), 73-76.

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the picture support.”2 He argues that, through transformations of pictorial structure based on assiduous selfscrutinization, Noland embodied the radical refusal to settle on any single formal “solution” to the “crisis of meaning” in modern society. Rather than seeking a fixed solution, his work remains in constant evolution, mirroring the restless drive of modernist culture. This relentless progression evokes mechanical speed and reflects a society perpetually striving for more. Curator John Coplans’ discussion on serial imagery, fundamental to Noland’s work, ties in with this perception. Defined as “a type of repeated form or structure shared equally by each work in a group of related works made by one artist,” Coplans insists on the “macro-structure” in which the identity of each individual artwork is subsumed.3 Serial imagery concerns itself with the notion of progress rather than the concept of a singular masterpiece, emphasizing continuity. This serial imagery is evident in Noland’s Chevron, Concentric Circle, and Stripe paintings, where he systematically explores variations in color and form within a consistent compositional framework. Coplans argues that the inception of serial imagery in the United States subtly reflects the subliminal essence of

American life, particularly the “underlying control systems central to advanced, ‘free enterprise’ technological society.”4 In this context, the chevron form in itself does appear to pierce and propel forward, embodying this modernist sensibility that critics tend to interpret from his work. The language deployed in such analyses imbues Blue Veil with a sense of unwavering forward motion that logically conjures the 1960s zeitgeist of a capitalist American society, distinguished by an unyielding desire to achieve and produce more and more. Art historian Alex Taylor points to Noland’s 1965 statement that he is a “one-shot painter,” further aligning his work with a sense of urgency and efficiency in his artistic approach. Highlighting Noland’s ability to “stick to his guns,”5 Taylor references Noland’s military background in the U.S. Air Force in the 1940s. The influence of the disciplined, hierarchical military culture could be interpreted in the rigid, streamlined forms of his chevron paintings. Noland’s Concentric Circles series, including works like April (1960), features bands of vibrant hues radiating outward from the center, often interpreted as targets. Taylor further notes Noland’s desire to create works that are “as quick and simple as you can possibly do it,” perceiving Helen Frankenthaler’s soak-stain technique as a means to an end, showcasing the

2 Michael Fried, Three American Painters: Kenneth Noland, Jules Olitski, Frank Stella, exh. cat. (Cambridge, MA: Fogg Art Museum, 1965), reprinted in Fried, Art and Objecthood: Essays and Reviews (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 234–265. 3 John Coplans, “Serial Imagery: Definitions” in Serial Imagery (Pasadena: Pasadena Art Museum, 1968), 77–92.

4 John Coplans, Serial Imagery. 5 Alex J. Taylor, “‘One-Shot Painting,’” in Gift 1961–2 by Kenneth Noland, Tate Research Publication, 2017, https://www.tate.org.uk/research/ in-focus/gift-kenneth-noland/one-shot-painting, accessed December 18, 2024.

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American over-productivity mindset. In contrast to these interpretations, during an interview conducted by Avis Berman in 1987, Noland recalls how the critic Leo Steinberg commented on his emphasis on reduction and efficiency that “appealed to the industrial-military context.”6 Steinberg’s interpretation appears disconnected from Noland’s personal perspective on his creative process, which is far more personal and process-oriented than critics often assume. In the interview, Noland discusses the significance of the hands-on, working-class tradition of craft and the joy of labor, recalling in his youth how “the craftsmen—the plumbers, electricians, carpenters, the workers—considered themselves artists.” Noland’s work is deeply rooted in this working-class tradition, far from the accusation of his work being “elitist.”7 Yet there is more to his works that, on further investigation, appears to engage with spiritual and ecological concepts. Firstly, Noland’s adoption of Frankenthaler’s soakstain technique, which he began in 1953 after meeting her in New York City can be seen as an integrative approach.8 The diluted acrylic paint

seeps into the fibers of the unprimed canvas, involving its materiality and dissolving the boundaries between paint and canvas, to unify these two autonomous entities. The teaching approach at Black Mountain College, which Noland attended from 1946 to 1948, was influenced by the interdisciplinary ethos of the Bauhaus.9 Here, all artistic disciplines were united, with the traditional hierarchy that confined them being rejected. This similarly affiliates with the dissolution of boundaries inherent to the soak-stain painting technique. A speculative lineage can be traced connecting Noland’s sensitivity to color to that of Wassily Kandinsky, mediated through Noland’s professor, Joseph Albers. Coplans observes that Albers’ approach to color involved limiting its range, allowing him to “blatantly reveal the purity of color as an optical phenomenon” and making “the viewer sensitive to colour as a purely perceptual experience.”10 This philosophy aligns with that of Kandinsky and appears to have profoundly influenced Blue Veil. The streamlined gesture of the candypink chevron evokes the saccharine aesthetics of Pop Art, hinting at the slick current of mass production. Yet

6 Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Oral History Interview with Kenneth Noland, 1987 July 2–1987 September 20, conducted by Avis Berman, accessed December 18, 2024, https://www.aaa.si.edu/collections/interviews/ oral-history-interview-kenneth-noland-12192. 7 Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Oral History Interview with Kenneth Noland. 8 “USA: Artists; 4; The New Abstraction: Morris Louis and Kenneth Noland,” March 20, 1966, Library of Congress, American Archive of Public Broadcasting (GBH and the Library of Congress),

Boston, MA and Washington, DC, accessed December 19, 2024, http://americanarchive.org/ catalog/cpb-aacip-512-q814m92d29. 9 Barbaralee Diamonstein-Spielvogel, interview with Kenneth Noland and Diane Waldman, Kenneth Noland’s First Retrospective at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, video interview, 1977, accessed on Two Coats of Paint, https:// twocoatsofpaint.com. 10 John Coplans, Serial Imagery.

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this association is counterbalanced by the deep ultramarine blue that envelops the composition. The blue disrupts the forward momentum of the pink, halting time with its meditative stillness. It is as though the pink chevron embodies the kinetic energy of pop culture. At the same time, the blue freezes it in a state of contemplative suspension, enabling it to transcend its material and cultural connotations. Curator Mollie Berger offers valuable insight into Noland’s engagement with psychologist Wilhelm Reich’s intensive psychoanalytic therapy, particularly its influence on his “obsession with centrality and balance.”11 Integral to Reich’s theory was orgone, an energy that must “flow freely through the body for stable mental and physical health; when orgone is blocked, the body experiences physical discomfort and neurotic behaviour.”12 This emphasis on an unimpeded flow of energy also resonates with Noland’s April, where the concentric circles can be seen as visual expressions of pulsating energy fields. Noland himself acknowledged in a 1971 interview with Paul Cummings that Reichian therapy had a profound impact on his perceptions, filtering into his art.13 Berger specifically

connects this influence to Noland’s Concentric Circles, suggesting the physical exertion involved in Reichian therapy could be mirrored in the visual experience of these paintings. She notes, “It is this conceit of expansion and retraction, suggested by a radiating pulse of energy, which can be read into the circular forms and bold colours” of paintings from this series. The concentric rings invite the viewer’s gaze into their epicenter, where a more profound spiritual encounter lies. Blue Veil can similarly be interpreted through this lens. The viewer progresses from the pink outer chevron, which, as aforementioned, is associated with the tangibility and gloss of Pop Art, standing as a metaphor for the material world. From this, the viewer’s gaze proceeds through earthy greens, indicating a turn to nature, before plunging into the ruminative depths of the spiritual blues. In Reichian therapy, blocked energy is believed to manifest as physical tension, which must be released to restore the natural state of energetic flow. The color blue, with its expansive associations, has the potential to mirror this process of release, guiding the viewer from a superficial, surface level of bodily constraints into a state of profound incorporeality. Like the concentric rings, the chevron acts as a vehicle for the viewer to explore greater depths of reality. Drawing on Wassily Kandinsky’s theories, art historian Pepe Karmel introduces a similar idea, discussing the traditional pyramid image as

11 Mollie R. Berger, “Centres of Energy,” in Gift 1961–2 by Kenneth Noland, Tate Research Publication, 2016, https://www.tate.org.uk/ research/in-focus/gift-kenneth-noland/centres-ofenergy, accessed December 18, 2024. 12 Mollie R. Berger, “Centres of Energy.” 13 Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution, Oral History Interview with Kenneth Noland, 9 October–21 December 1971, conducted by Paul Cummings, accessed January 27, 2025.

https://www.aaa.si.edu/collections/interviews/ oral-history-interview-kenneth-noland-12261.

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a symbol of humanity’s spiritual evolution. Kandinsky described this pyramid as a “large acute-angled triangle… moving slowly, almost invisibly forwards and upwards,” remarking on the spiritual elite inhabiting its tip.14 This insight substantiates the concept of Blue Veil’s chevron as a vehicle of spiritual ascent, depicting a progression in which the chevron acts as an inverted pyramid. This inversion could suggest a realm where gravity does not apply and time is warped, elaborating on the interpretation of the azure arresting the pink’s motion in a timeless introspection. Noland’s choice of title deepens this interpretation. The hovering, translucent nature of a veil, simultaneously obscuring and revealing, complements Kandinsky’s spiritual associations with blue as a color that draws the viewer inwards towards high levels of contemplation. The diaphanous quality of the veil invites further speculation about what lies beyond or within the intangibility it presents. It urges that the viewer abandon the material concerns of the modern era, instead surrendering to the transcendent and spiritual experience offered by Noland’s chevron, as a mode of transport into an ethereal expanse. Returning to the soak stain approach, critics have labeled the elimination of gestural brushstrokes as indifference to the societal unrest that permeated the 1960s. However, Matthew Baigell notes how this

depersonalization where “artists seem to be absent from their work” as if the work had “no beginning and no ending… emptied of its own history in relation to its creator,” 15 further validates a spiritual reading of Blue Veil. Within the blue’s transit space that contains the chevron’s energy, the rationality of time is withheld. Nevertheless, subtle signs of the artist’s touch can be discerned, serving as further entry points into more profound, indefinable spaces, reached through the more tangible green, suggesting an earthliness through which the viewer can transcend. Kandinsky’s conviction in the latent spiritual power of geometric designs is clearly articulated, particularly in his belief that “we recognize the spirit of our time in the realm of construction, not as clear ‘geometric’ construction… but as an inscrutable one, which inadvertently lifts itself beyond painting; and which, therefore, is meant less for the eye than for the soul.”16 This sentiment deeply resonates with Noland’s Blue Veil and my argument that the chevron motif can be interpreted as a method to summon deeper realms of intuitive, inner forces that lie in the blue. Lastly, Fingesten observes how Kandinsky’s liberation of the artist’s subconscious redirected the trajectory of painting towards a translation of intuitive 15 Matthew Baigell, “American Painting: On Space and Time in the Early 1960s,” Art Journal 28, no. 4 (1969): 368–401, https://doi. org/10.2307/775308. 16 P. Fingesten, “Spirituality, Mysticism and Non-Objective Art,” Art Journal 21, no. 1 (1961): 2–6, https://doi.org/10.2307/774289.

14 Pepe Karmel, Abstract Art: A Global History (London: Thames & Hudson, 2020), 173-4.

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engagement with the natural world. Extending this to Blue Veil, it can be asserted that Noland’s work engages similarly with a spiritualization of art, aligning itself with this history of abstraction that is divorced from the “outer world of appearances” towards more symbolic expressions. In the atmosphere of 1960s North America, tainted by a preoccupation with speed and production in a booming commercial culture, Blue Veil offers an interlude, a moment of contemplation that resists the era’s mechanical churn and remorseless violence. Through the layered nature of the chevron, the viewer is invited into a contemplative space unbound by time or materiality, moving from the tangible pink into the rootedness of earthly greens and ultimately into the meditative expanse of Kandinsky’s blue. The dissolving boundaries between the painting and the viewer evoked by the nature of a veil and the seeping integrative paint into the warp and weft of the canvas offer a chance for introspection. The chevron may initially suggest a fast-moving vehicle, propelling the viewer inwards through its optical intensity. However, as the viewer engages more closely with its layers, it becomes evident that this journey is not physical transport but spiritual transformation. The painting acts as a passage through thresholds of perception, offering a moment of stillness submerged in the hum of an infinite blue.

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