Encounters can be accidental or intentional. They can be consequential in mightily important ways for good or ill—or they can be of no matter at all. We all get to have a mix of both in life. To the extent we can control and steer our encounters, those are gambles we take to shape the arc of our lives to make things work better for me and you—and as many others as we can touch.
What matters most when you are running a university art gallery? I knew first and foremost that I had to make the place relevant to the educational institution of which it was a part. Initially, I tried having monthly luncheons in the Gallery for everyone—students, professors, instructors, and administrators at all levels.
Almost no one came. It was a failure. Why would they fit an art gallery gig into their day, even once a month? I did not have a proper plan. Early in my new art career, the Maine Community Foundation had announced they would give $3,000 grants for art instruction projects. I applied and won a grant to bring elementary school children from the neighborhood, Longfellow Elementary, grades one through three, to the gallery on Friday afternoons. I had never formally taught young children. Now, I had that job for two hours every week. I would be connecting to our community, which had schools up and down Stevens Avenue, in addition to the University of New England (UNE). As we looked at whatever was hanging on the walls, children would burst forth with exuberant comments and an occasional yelp of pleasure.
“That’s just like my Mom’s paintings.”
“This picture is telling us to hug our animals.”
“See the moon! It looks right out of Goodnight Moon!”
One day, my three-year-old grandson came to visit and crawled under the legs of a life-sized sculpture. It was a rascal act and exactly why we had put the sculpture of a nude woman lying on her back with her knees raised in the middle of the first floor. I was learning on the job, and some of the youngest among us were my teachers.
The university administrators emphasized the need to make this gallery more relevant to the university’s educational mission. I knew I had to be open to all sorts of good ideas of others. Karen Pardue, a Professor of Nursing who would later become Dean of the College of Health Professions and then Provost of UNE, proposed that we design an interdisciplinary course for first-year health profession students to explore the arts in the context of health care diagnostics. Using the Art Gallery’s collection and its changing roster of exhibitions, we would make connections between studying the artworks and recognizing patient symptoms indicating health or disease. This process, which we dubbed “deep viewing,” was especially useful for small groups of three or four, to share their observations, reflections, and interpretations.
To look closely at a work of art means paying attention to the medium, colors, textures, and the light and lines of a piece, or their absence. Size, proportions, and symmetry matter, just as with a human body. For example, the asymmetry in a patient’s face might be an indicator that something is amiss. If the color of a person’s skin is too red, or conversely, too white, washed-out pale, it could indicate illness. If the lines are weak or the light is minimal, interpretations could include advanced age, withdrawal, and suicidal thoughts even. This was a spur to encourage healthcare students to interpret visible signs in a patient’s body and behavior that require attention. Art “deep viewing” was an excellent training exercise for budding health professionals.
The first course exhibition was called Prelude to an Apocalypse, featuring art that depicted the political turmoil and social upheaval that presaged the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers in Manhattan and elsewhere. Works by Abby Shahn, John Hultberg, Dozier Bell, Richard Brown Lethem, Natasha Mayers, Maggie Foskett, and Wally Warren were included.
Ann Zill in UNE Art Gallery.
This exhibition, opening exactly one year after 9/11, was curated by Andy Verzosa, just becoming my friend then, and was my first success in making the art gallery relevant to the university’s academic mission. The art on the walls were what UNE students were studying for their futures in healthcare.
In later years, I helped assemble an interdisciplinary Cultural Competency team to design a three-credit academic course for graduate students in the health professions. Here was another initiative to engage UNE faculty and students. My challenge was to demonstrate why the arts matter. I discovered a useful study from the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, Art Makes You Smart, which provided a list of benefits, including critical thinking skills, higher levels of social tolerance, greater historical empathy, and a taste for art and cultural institutions. The study also showed that low-income individuals, as well as rural people and minorities, gained the greatest benefits from exposure to the arts.
A Museum Magazine report explicitly addressed 1) health literacy, 2) medical training, 3) mental health, and 4) nutrition and wellness. The ability to observe carefully, describe accurately, and then interpret is as essential in clinical diagnosis as in the visual arts. I prepared case studies to show commonalities around the world as well as differences coming from various cultures over time.
Note: Anne Zill’s memoir, Out of the Main(e) Stream is being published this year.
Image at top: “Photo with the children who taught me.”