Three Seeds

Palaces for the People, Mnemonic Objects, and Procedural Art

3 Things in the Creative Ecosystem that I’ve been thinking about.

In 2023, Dr. Vivek H. Murthy, the Surgeon General of the United States of America published a paper titled, “Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation”. Within the past decade, our conversations and community literacy around mental health have been more widespread than ever. The stigma around expressing and discussing our own human psyche has never been more widely accepted than it is today. However, it seems that our ability to intellectualize these concepts has not yet translated into a societal ability to mitigate or counteract them.

In the introduction to his 72 page paper, Dr. Murthy says the following:

“In recent years, about one-in-two adults in America reported experiencing loneliness…Loneliness is far more than just a bad feeling - it harms both individual and societal health. It is associated with a greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death. The mortality impact of being socially disconnected is similar to that caused by smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day, and even greater than that associated with obesity and physical inactivity. And the harmful consequences of a society that lacks social connection can be felt in our schools, workplaces, and civic organizations, where performance, productivity, and engagement are diminished.” (Emphasis mine)

There are many speculative reasons as to why this descent into isolation has come about in the past quarter century - Social media, fear, and individualism are often at the forefront of those conversations. As is typical with any pressing health issue, there is a tendency to focus on the symptoms, rather than the problem. When it comes to an issue such as loneliness, it is impossible to tackle such a complicated issue with any amount of spot treatments. It is long overdue that we take a long, hard look at the festering issue underneath it all. 

In his book, Palaces for the People, Eric Klienenberg coined the term, “Social Infrastructure,” a term he defines as “The physical places and organizations that shape the way people interact. Social Infrastructure is not “Social Capital” — a concept commonly used to measure people's relationships and interpersonal networks — but the physical conditions that determine whether social capital develops. When Social infrastructure is robust, it fosters contact, mutual support, and collaboration among friends and neighbors; when degraded, it inhibits social activity, leaving families and individuals to fend for themselves.”

Written in 2018, Klienenberg discusses the need for social infrastructure by telling a story about one of the deadliest heat waves in American history that hit Chicago in the late 1990s. While many of the communities which suffered the most were unsurprisingly inhabited by minorities, the elderly, and impoverished, there were also communities with nearly identical demographics who fared quite well. The heat wave had an outsize toll on communities that had a lack of social infrastructure — places like public parks, community and religious centers, or even just apartment buildings where interaction with your neighbors is inevitable.  It turns out that the greatest factor in mortality was how much investment had been placed in these community hubs, strengthening the community bonds of those who lived there, and giving them the greatest chance for survival. Little did Klienenberg know that less than 18 months after publishing his book, the world would be hit by a global pandemic, contributing to mass isolation and an exodus away from social infrastructure havens.

Isolation is a public health concern on many levels — loneliness does not only contribute to the degradation of mental health, but has rippling effects throughout our entire physiology. More than ever, prioritizing social infrastructure is a necessity. On top of prioritizing these spaces, is the need to alter how we engage with the mundane tasks of public life. Convenience is king; human beings will default to the easiest, cheapest, and/or fastest way to do something if not forced to do otherwise, it's in our DNA. With the digitalization of everyday chores and actions, most of the places where our parents or grandparents would have interacted with other members of the community are becoming less and less common. Grocery shopping, dating, and ordering food can all be done from a recliner without ever having to speak, brush your teeth, or smile at another living thing. Doing common tasks, in the real world, around other real people can seem like a waste of time when it is just a click away, but I would argue that that small act of picking out your own apple, or taking a meeting in person rather than on zoom can be important choices of counteracting public decline.

The title, “Palaces for the People” comes from the 19th century industrialist, Andrew Carnegie, who despite his many flaws, was an avid believer and philanthropist of public libraries – he called them Palaces for the People, public places of belonging where people could read, think, create, and educate themselves. An avid patron of my local library branch and many others around the city, I can confidently reiterate the sentiment that libraries are some of the most useful, welcoming, safe, and helpful spaces in our modern world. As Klieneberg points out, they are the epitome of Social Infrastructure; a place where young children, college students, people without homes, gardening clubs, or virtually any other group can gather to rest, learn, converse, and play. I’d say that’s even better than a palace.

To this day, I get the “Library Card Song” stuck in my head from the PBS Kids show, Arthur, that aired from 1996 - 2022. The anthropomorphic aardvark and his friends sing the refrain, “Having fun isn’t hard, when you’ve got a library card!” while listing off the dozens of things you can do and learn in a library. In the spirit of the song, I thought I’d list some of my favorite things about the public library where I live, the Cincinnati & Hamilton County Public Library.

1. It has over 9.6 Million books, the second largest public collection in the United States. As an artist, writer, speaker, and educator, I need a lot of research material; more than I can afford to purchase. I can always count on CHPL to have exactly the book I’m looking for, and more often than not, introduce me to something else that assists my project.

2. CHPL has a Discovery Pass that allows Ohio residents free entry to parks, art museums, and historical sites. This makes some of the most beautiful and amazing experiences in the city accessible to anyone.

3. The library offers free color and black & white printing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve needed a mural design printed out in a pinch, or forgot to bring my manuscript to a keynote - all I’ve ever had to do was swing by one of the 41 branches, log into a computer, and click print.

4. The MakerSpaces in many of the branches. I’m lucky enough to have one of these in my own Madisonville branch that I can walk to in less than 15 minutes. 3D printing, cutting vinyl, laser printing, recording studios, and Adobe Suite are available for everyone - a dream for an artist like myself. 

5. The beautiful and varied architecture of the branches - from the Clifton Branch in a mansion design by famous Cincinnati architect, Samual Hannaford with its spires, intricate moulding, and stained glass, to the columns of Walnut Hills very own Carnegie palace, I’m surrounding by beauty and design in different forms regardless of which neighborhood I’m in.

The Ohio House legislature has delivered its proposed budget which includes the elimination of the Public Library Fund (PLF). If adopted, our public libraries would take a nearly 30% funding hit, threatening one of the cornerstones of public life. We are the people - don’t let them take our palaces. 

Find out how you can help here: https://chpl.org/blogs/post/dont-cut-my-library/

If you were educated in the United States, you likely know the name Roy G. Biv. Not because he was a president or famous inventor, but rather as a mnemonic device for the colors of the rainbow: Red Orange Yellow Blue Indigo Violet. Although I likely learned the acronym around the same time I learned to ride a bike, it is still extremely present in my mind. A little later in life, I learned the acronym, PEMDAS, which was meant to help remember the order of operations in math. Even though I use a calculator for all of my math related issues these days, if I’m ever on a deserted island with a 5th grade math test and gun to my head, I should be able to remember to multiply before I subtract.

The most popular examples of mnemonic devices that I’ve known all my life are acronyms, rhymes, or acrostics - typically for information that is totally irrelevant in my adult life. Recently, however,  I became aware of another form of mnemonic device which is much more useful. “The Von Restorff Effect,” also known as the isolation effect, states that when presented with multiple homogenous stimuli, we are more likely to recognize or remember the stimulus that differs the most from the rest. In simple terms, we remember distinctive things — if you’re shown 10 black cards and one red card, you’re more likely to remember the red card than any of the black cards.

The Von Restorff Effect is something that most artists and designers are familiar with, even if we don’t know the name of it. Contrast, clarity, size, and color are all tools that I use in my work to emphasize or direct attention when I’m painting or building something. It turns out that the Von Restorff effect can be used to remember immensely complex sets of data. There exists a sport only slightly less popular than American Football called the “Memory Championship” where “Memory Athletes” compete by remembering numbers, names, cards, poetry, and other subjects with varying speed and accuracy. Ron White, one of the former US champions who previously held the record of fastest recorded time to memorize the United States Constitution and who could memorize any random order of playing cards in roughly 90 seconds, laid out his method for success. He said that he would imagine himself walking through his house and he would locate 52 unique items. After memorizing these items, he would walkthrough again and mentally attach a card to each item. When he went to recite the cards, all he had to do was walk back through his own home, visualize each item, and state the card he previously attached to it. 

I am oversimplifying the ease in which this can be done, but nevertheless, remembering 52 randomized cards in less than the time it takes to brush your teeth is impressive. Ron White didn’t invent this tactic though, in fact, it is called “Method of Loci” which is the technical term for attaching information to objects along a familiar path in order to recognize them. In the same way that the initials Roy G. Biv stands for the names of colors, mnemonic objects can stand for any number of things. The reason that this works is that humans remember and respond to relatable spatial and personal cues better than we do to abstract information.

If you’re planning on competing with the LeBron James of the memory world and you weren’t familiar with mnemonic objects until now - you’re welcome; but if not, you might be wondering why this is at all relevant to you. The point is that while Ron White might consciously attach the Ace of Spades to his La-Z-Boy; each of us unconsciously attaches information, meaning, and memory to everyday objects without even realizing it. Some of these things have very obvious associations, a wedding band symbolizes commitment to your partner, an old stuffed animal reminds us of our childhood — but what we attach to objects can get infinitely more ambiguous. That one spoon in your drawer that doesn’t match reminds you of your grandmother, that pebble on your dresser holds the memory of a great hike you went on in college, that gum wrapper was from your first date with your husband or wife. 

Right now, as I sit at my desk, I can see hundreds of objects and tell you exactly where I got them from, who gave them to me, and what I think of when I see them. Unknowingly, we all do this with all of the common objects around us, every day. Objects and spaces are talismans which help inform us of who we are, were, or want to be. They remind us of our habits, our family, and our values. They also can distract, deflect, and disquiet us. 

The more times we see something that reminds us of a negative thought about ourselves, the more likely we are to believe that negative thing, and let it affect the way we exist in the world and with others. Our attention may be fleeting, but it is certainly not insignificant. This is one of the many reasons I make art. Our cumulative exposure to beautiful things makes us more likely to see our lives in a more beautiful light, and act in a more beautiful manner. As we think about the design of our spaces; domestic, public, and professional, we must remember that beauty needs to be accessible to all people and that it has real effects on the way we move throughout the world. 

Be thoughtful and intentional in your spaces, and when possible, make them better for other people too.

–

BONUS: A funny clip that I realize in hindsight was a mnemonic object:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSRaDHXydzU

If you’ve ever walked through an art museum with someone who really didn’t want to be there, you’ve probably heard (or said) the phrase, “What the hell is this, I could do that” or possibly “I hate minimalism” or perhaps the kinder, “I just don’t understand modern art”. One of these phrases was most likely stated while side-eying a very large painting that appears to just be a scribble or an orange square that looks more to you like the Home Depot sign than a priceless work of art. There is at least a decent chance that one of these works containing lines or basic shapes was made by the late artist, Sol Lewitt, one of the founders of both the minimalist and conceptual art movements.

Don’t worry, I’m not on a crusade to convince you to like conceptual art, nor necessarily to even discuss what the works look like at all — rather, I care much more about how they were made. It turns out that if you happened to encounter a Lewitt on your trip through the galleries, it likely wasn’t made by the artist at all. And Mr. Lewitt is probably resting quite peacefully in his grave hearing you state “I could do that” — it's exactly what he would have wanted you to do. Lewitt believed that the concept behind the art was more important than the actual execution of it. He said that “The idea becomes a machine that makes the art.” Lewitt created something called, “Instructional Art” in which he would write out the instructions on how to make work, leaving the onus of creating to the gallerist, curator, or whoever else got their hands on the instructions. To be a maker of work, you didn’t necessarily have to be the creator of it, much in the same way that a composer might write a musical score, even though many musicians were required to perform the work.

Here are some example instructions from his wall drawing #118

“On a wall surface, any

continuous stretch of wall,

using a hard pencil, place

fifty points at random.

The points should be evenly

distributed over the area

of the wall. All of the

points should be connected

by straight lines.”

The instructions are specific enough to follow, but vague enough to allow for variability depending on the person who was creating the work - something that shows up in most of his instructional work.

The traditional art market is built around works that can be commodified, sold, and owned. Sol Lewitt challenged this notion of art by creating a formula which could be used by any and every person.

Sol Lewitt’s work is important to me, not because I feel deeply connected to the lines and forms created by his work, but rather because he presents a theoretical model for the proliferation of art that is sorely missing from our modern world. We live in an age where film is more accessible than ever. We can have incredible viewing experiences either at home for a minimal upfront cost or at the theatre for a reasonable price in almost every city and small town. Music has never been as widely accessible as it is currently, where we can listen to literally millions of songs at the push of a button from any artist for free online.  Great literature is widely available digitally or at libraries for free. 

As a visual artist, I think this is part of the reason why an amazing painting or sculpture feels so special or rare compared to other creative forms - there can’t ever really be a second hand experience of it. In order to experience a painting, you have to be right there in front of it, face to face. Instagram, Facebook, or whatever other popular apps exist at the time you’re reading this can’t replicate that experience of art. It is such a special experience, one that you should cherish - and while I love how amazing that firsthand experience of an artwork is, I find myself coming back to Sol Lewitt and his instructions. The fact of the matter is that not everyone has the luxury of visiting an art museum, or even being near one. Having art from a professional artist in your home is even more rare. Art should be for everyone – especially if we believe that it makes spaces better, and by proxy makes us better. I haven’t yet figured out how to make art for everyone in the same way that music and movies are for everyone, so for the time being, I'd say the best thing to do is just make more of it.