In late February, Block Museum Student Associates were again invited to take part in the Art Institute’s annual University Partner Fest, a daylong event where students from the museum’s partner institutions are invited to explore the galleries, meet their peers, and learn from faculty and museum professionals across institutions. As part of the Fest, student participants choose from the thousands of objects on view at the Art Institute to give a public art talk within the museum.

The Block’s own Bobby Yalam (Comparative Literary Studies and Economics ’24) and Madeleine Giaconia (Radio/TV/Film and Art History ’24)  share their encounters.

Bobby Yalam on Tomita Mikiko’s The Form of the Progenitor

When tasked with choosing an object, out of nearly 4,000 on view at the Art Institute of Chicago (AIC), to focus on for my gallery talk at University Partner Fest, I was at a loss for how to start narrowing my options. As I perused the museum’s website, an image of Tanaka Yu’s Bag Work (2018) which was being used to advertise the exhibition Radical Clay: Contemporary Women Artists from Japan caught my eye. I could not square the fact that the exhibition consisted entirely of ceramic works with the smooth, fabric-like appearance of Yu’s work. It was as simple as that—I knew I would find the focus of my art talk in this exhibition of innovative works.

Visiting the exhibition was my priority when Madie and I took a research trip to AIC in early February. Before I could inspect Bag Work up close, the work I ended up focusing on, Tomita Mikiko’s The Form of the Progenitor (2019), commanded my attention. This wasn’t just because it occupies an imposing position, just past the gallery’s entrance. Rather, I was drawn by the object’s smooth gilded features, mixed with ornate red and blue decorations stretching across an unfamiliar organic form. As I read the label, which discussed the influence of the adolescent years Mikiko spent in Portugal on her artistic practice, I knew the object would be ripe for conversations with visitors.

Mikiko was born in Osaka and primarily grew up there, though from ages 12-13 her father was stationed in Portugal, as the label alluded to. That experience exposed Mikiko to a strong influence on her style as a ceramicist—Islamic decoration and religious architecture. My research into the object helped me temper the object label’s emphasis on the artist’s time in Portugal. While Islamic decoration is one influence, Mikiko is also inspired by images of cells under a microscope, from scientific magazines her father would bring home, and by her training in over-glaze techniques, which she completed alongside potters in the Mie Prefecture. In interviews, Mikiko elaborates on the connection she sees between religious ornamentation and the natural structure of living beings. She understands religious decoration, which often features repetition of intricate geometric features, as a way humans celebrate and revere the architecture of nature, which displays similar patterns. She has even suggested that her ceramic works spring from the very cells composing her own body, and that those works celebrate her spirit housed in the totality of those cells.

On the morning of Partner Fest, I stationed myself next to The Form of the Progenitor, eager to share my research into Mikiko’s biography with visitors. Practically, because Radical Clay is a temporary exhibition, the event’s organizers warned me that the gallery I was in would be especially busy, and busy it was. Since I’m used to structured Art Talks at the Block with a set start time, I appreciated the challenge of having more informal, drop-in conversations about the ceramic work with visitors. Most of those conversations revolved around Mikiko’s technique, rather than her biography. Together, visitors and I reflected in wonder over the highly detailed glazing on the piece: the finest of details were completed with a brush no more than a few strands thick. To draw attention to this amazing aspect of Mikiko’s practice, Instagram became an unexpectedly helpful tool: I pulled up videos the artist posted to her account, which prompted many visitors’ jaws to drop. Younger visitors and I speculated on the ceramic object’s form, and came to interpretations of the object as a strawberry, a hedgehog, or a cluster of barnacles, among other similarly imaginative possibilities.

This experience marked my first time leading a gallery talk on a three-dimensional work. I found this aspect especially helpful for group learning, since visitors and I would engage in close looking from multiple angles to see how the object appeared differently as we moved around the gallery. My enthusiasm for the exhibition also prepared me to engage with visitors beyond just Mikiko’s object, since many of them were excited to make connections between her work and others on view.

I am grateful to have participated in Partner Fest, not just for the chance to learn about a fascinating object and to grow as a gallery educator, but also to meet other local emerging museum professionals. The conversations I had in the gallery and the interactions I shared with other students, whom I otherwise might never have met, reaffirmed my excitement for the potential museums hold to spark meaningful, if fleeting, moments of connection. Being in community at the Art Institute was a wonderful way to spend an especially cold Saturday this February.

Madie Giaconia on Alexandra Exter’s Robot

When faced with the impossible task of picking a single object from Art Institute’s massive collection on view, I was initially overwhelmed. I’m a frequent visitor to the Art Institute, so I tried to narrow down my options by thinking about my favorite works at the museum. This train of thought led me to remember one of the objects I pay a visit to every time I go: Alexandra Exter’s Robot, which lives in the Modern Wing on the third floor of the museum. I immediately knew I wanted to give my talk about it. 

Robot is not a real machine; rather, a small marionette shaped like a robot. At the Art Institute, it is displayed in a gallery of twentieth-century abstract paintings by artists like Kazimir Malevich and Piet Mondrian. Alexandra Exter created it in 1926, as part of a series of marionettes made for an unrealized film. Robot is constructed from materials that museum-goers might not associate with “fine art”: cardboard, glass, and wood. I was eager to bring light to an object in the gallery that would often get overlooked. I had also never given a talk about a three-dimensional object, so I was excited to challenge myself and expand my range of skills. 

I am currently writing my art history senior thesis about Ukrainian modernism in the 1920s. Alexandra Exter, who grew up in Ukraine and worked there frequently throughout her life, is a figure I have frequently come across in my research. Her experimentation across an incredible breadth of mediums—including set design, fashion, textiles, painting, drawing, and props—has made her a giant of the Soviet avant-garde. Exter’s use of “everyday” materials like cardboard and wood in Robot reflected revolutionary Soviet artistic movements in the 1920s, which rejected hierarchical and traditional modes of artmaking. I was excited to be able to bring my prior knowledge and research to my art talk. 

On the morning of PartnerFest, I made my way up to the Modern Wing and stationed myself in the little gallery beside Robot. The Modern Wing is tucked away on the third floor of the Art Institute, up a large flight of stairs, so I expected my flow of visitors would be slower than other areas of the museum. This assumption was correct: throughout the hour, a slow but steady rotation of visitors passed through the gallery. Some were more eager to engage with me, coming right up and asking to hear my spiel, while others merely gave me a small smile and moved on. This casual drop-in format was new for me. I’m used to giving scheduled tours and expecting a group of visitors who came specifically to engage with my talk. However, I found myself really enjoying the informal structure. I was often only speaking to one or two people at a time, which allowed for more engaged discussions about the work. At several points, I was talking to one visitor, and others would start to gather interestedly to hear what I was saying, slowly assembling a group. One particularly engaged participant had several historical questions for me, and I felt excited and comforted to be able to draw on my own broader knowledge of Soviet art to answer his inquiries. 

It was fascinating to hear the range of organic conversations that developed from this work. Many were confused (as was I) about the placement of Robot’s wall label—rather than being on the case, as with most other three-dimensional works on display at the Art Institute, the label is on the wall across the gallery, to the left of Robot’s case. Such odd positioning likely means visitors rarely engage with its identification or history. People were also fascinated by the fact that Robot was a marionette, originally meant to be manipulated with strings on screen. I also had several fascinating discussions about art objects that were originally meant to have a moving component, and how displaying them stationary in a museum removes a fundamental aspect of their nature. For instance, when its limbs were manipulated, would the silver-painted accordion folds on Robot’s chest move as though it were breathing? One visitor even expressed that someone should remove Robot from the case and make a film with it, so that the world could see Exter’s craft put into motion. (Perhaps a pet project for an interested historian or artist…?) 

Engaging with gallery visitors in a new way challenged my public speaking and teaching skills, but I left with a boost of confidence. The meaningful conversations I had with visitors and fellow students were energizing, and only reaffirmed my beliefs about art’s power to teach, generate conversation, and foster human connection.

Overall, I was thrilled to have been able to participate in PartnerFest. It was particularly special to share the experience with Bobby, after working together and supporting each other in our roles at the Block. Engaging with gallery visitors in a new way challenged my public speaking and teaching skills, but I left with a boost of confidence. The meaningful conversations I had with visitors and fellow students were energizing, and only reaffirmed my beliefs about art’s power to teach, generate conversation, and foster human connection.