June 3, 2009 Today I received an email from Jessica Bennett. I’ve known Jessica for several years as she has curated me in various shows. She is currently the Director of the Metropolitan Art in Public Spaces Initiative in Federalton. She tells me she would like to invite me to submit a proposal for a new public art project— a permanent art work for the lobby of the St. Agnes Medical Center Pavilion, a public hospital located in the neighborhood of Liberty Falls, located in the outskirts of Federalton. I actually have never been there, but I’m immediately intrigued. I also confess I’ve never made a permanent public art work in my life, but this is a unique opportunity. June 9, 2009 I’ve been reviewing the prospectus of the project Jessica sent me. The hospital was built in the 1950s and was in serious disrepair, but under the State’s Urban Resilience and Infrastructure Renewal Initiative, which was created to respond to natural disasters and in particular Hurricane Ludwig which hit the area in 2007, funding was allocated for the comprehensive renovation of the building. The new building is being designed by Beyer, Hofer & Løkken, an Architecture firm with offices in Copenhagen and Vienna. It is one of the top architecture firms in the world. July 19, 2009 It took me two and a half hours to get to Liberty Falls. You have to get on three subway lines. It is the last stop on the system, in the outskirts of the city. The neighborhood feels more like another country— almost like another temporal dimension. Hurricane Ludwig pretty much devastated this neighborhood, and a number of the buildings are still boarded up. I wanted to get a cultural feel of the neighborhood, but as I walk around the area there is not much to see: a Quick Loan and EZ check Cashing business, a Family Dollar, a Washateria. I need to go do what I usually do, which is looking at the history of the site. August 16, 2009 I’ve made some progress. I learned Ivan Kovacic, a Croatian-American physiologist born in Liberty Falls, invented the Hematograph in 1872— a brass-and-glass machine recorded a person’s pulse and respiration as an intertwining set of lines on a rotating drum. It marked an important precedent for the electrocardiogram, invented a few years later by Augustus Desiré Waller. Kovacic sued Waller, unsuccessfully, for the patent of the electrocardiogram as his device was quickly replaced by the new invention; the legal fight, along with what appears to have been Kovacic’s arrogance (reading his diaries he sounds a bit messianic) and unpleasant personality, likely contributed to his pioneering research never having been buried by medical history. In any case, St. Agnes is known for its Cardiology unit, and this might be a fitting subject. There are extant graphics of Kovacic’s device, elegant. I’m making a proposal using these graphics as a motif for a mural for the pavilion. October 29, 2009 I’m pretty happy with the presentation I made for the project competition. The panel included two artists I admire, Ying Wong and Jermaine Patterson. It seems the presentation moved them. November 12, 2009 I got the commission! It is exciting. Much work to do now, and Jessica sent me a contract packet has more than 189 pages; it’s a bit overwhelming. She apologized in advance. “You know, this is Federalton”, she said, “we just need to go through the process”. She assured me a lot of this document is legalese is not particularly concerning. The important next step is a meeting with the architect to discuss my project. December 1, 2009 I met Mark Riedel, one of the architecture firm’s partners, at their downtown office, in an imposing modernist building in downtown Federalton. He came with four young assistants, all quietly taking notes through the whole meeting. He wasted no time—before I could even open my notebook— to say he hated the proposal. “No one will know or care who Kovacic was nor what was his ridiculous, useless invention”, he said. I argued this was not about celebrating usefulness but about reflecting on the history of the visualization of the internal functions of the human body. But he did not seem to hear, or care about, anything I was saying. Instead, the piece needed to “reflect the neighborhood,” he said, meaning hip-hop, graffiti, something recognizable. I told him wasn’t my language. I stopped myself from adding perhaps the mural he wanted was meant less for the neighborhood than for the firm’s conscience. We are kind of at an impasse. I called Jessica, trying to understand what I’m supposed to do. She was embarrassed for me. “This is the kind of stuff I’ve to deal with every day”, she said. Apparently the architect does have a certain veto power, and can request a Request for Conceptual Adjustment for Redesign Compliance (RCA Form 7A) which in essence means I’ve to make a revised proposal for a new panel. So, back to the drawing board. August 14, 2010 It was a a pain, but I managed to make a new proposal. Since Riedel insists for me to do something about language, and I will not ever in my life make a piece about graffiti, I came up with an alternative, which was creating an alphabet using contemporary electrocardiogram graphics. I present the proposal in March. March 23, 2011 The presentation was a disaster. We met at a grim conference room in City Hall. The panel was now comprised by a totally different group of people, which included a famous graphic designer, Liz Robson, who is notorious for being a bully. She completely tore my proposal apart, saying I’m an amateur designer. I argued the project was not about design: it was an art work. Nevertheless, the panel rejected the revised proposal. I left completely exasperated and told Jessica I’m resigning from the project; this is a waste of time, and I’m being treated like an art student. She begged me not to quit, and suggested I should submit an Artistic Determination Reconsideration Request (ADRR), which is outlined in section 19-B of the contract. Once I submit it, the panel’s decision can be appealed and a new determination made about the project. I can’t believe I’ve to do this, but I do need the money and I can’t fill out a first payment request unless the initial design is approved. In every email I receive the architecture firm’s office manager, Wilson Teevers, who schedules the meetings and cuts the checks, is copied. His name for some reason gets stuck on repeat in my brain at night, as some kind of bureaucratic earworm. September 3, 2011 After filing the Artistic Determination Reconsideration Request, I was informed sixteen weeks from submission I would need to attend a Creative Mediation & Alignment Workshop (CMAW) organized by the Office of Cultural Resolution. It was described as “an opportunity for stakeholders to recontextualize divergent aesthetic priorities through guided dialogue,” scheduled over three afternoons across six months, with an architectural liaison and a municipal empathy facilitator present. Jessica couldn’t attend due to “jurisdictional overlap,” but the architecture firm, St. Agnes Hospital, and three members of the Public Art Design Review Panel—the same ones who had rejected my redesign—would. The first session was set for December 24, over Skype, due to “calendar compression resulting from fiscal-year realignment.” Nine days before, I had to submit an Updated Statement of Intent to Clarify Prior Intent (SICPI-2), a Pre-emptive Compliance Assurance Form (PCAF-7A), and a Revision Rationale Addendum (RRA-11). December 23, 2011 After two months assembling these forms, I learned the Arts Commissioner had resigned in a sex scandal. The mediator announced that, because of “recent developments,” the meeting would be postponed. May 8, 2012 My original proposal is suddenly reinstated: the new commissioner, Ralph Clarkson, knows my work and was incensed on how I was treated and disrespected in the jurying process. He ordered the project to proceed. At the next commission meeting, Jermaine Patterson issued a “formal apology to the artist,” which embarrassed us both. The architect is not happy, but he can’t do anything about it. I heard they have decided to have a stylized graffiti on the façade of the hospital to better blend with the neighborhood. September 12, 2012 The next step was the Community Resonance Verification Packet (CRVP-B) which I submitted, and which precedes a stakeholder community town hall to discuss the proposed project. I was told not to attend the town-hall presentation. “I’ll handle it,” said Jessica. Somehow it seems absurd to hold a town hall meeting to discuss something has already been approved, while making it seem the attendee’s feedback matters. Jessica later shared at the meeting, residents wanted “something more like a landscape.” Stuart Ross, the hospital’s facilities head, added: “I don’t know anything about art, but this is not art.” February 2, 2014 (Groundhog Day) Pre-fabrication stage. My assistant found a fabricator, Billy Mark of a place called Stupid Turtle Workshop, who produced a flawless sample at a manageable cost. Ridiculous company name aside, I selected him. June 30, 2014 Site visit: Stupid Turtle turns out to be not a business, but a shared maker space; further, they did not want Billy to produce such a big project there, so he had to move production to a rented shed in Wolford. Worse, he can’t paint straight lines; the finished panel looks terrible. I hired my former assistant, Katie, to fix it, and eventually told Billy that Katie will be doing all the painting of all the panels, in order to save time. Now I’m partially subsidizing Billy’s work, but I can’t compromise the quality of the project. April 18, 2015 Painting finished. We now needed the Pre-Implementation Review Application (PIRA-1A) and, once approved, the Art Integration Preliminary Submittal (AIPS-9). Jessica also informed me she has taken another job at a university gallery; I feel good for her, but I also feel a bit abandoned. May 20, 2015 Project “temporarily suspended” after an internal audit revealed “irregularities in the allocation of discretionary enhancement funds.” Translation: the art budget had been diverted to the “consultant hospitality” account. The Director of Civic Beautification, Leonard P. Grieves, has been indicted for using the funds to build a deck at his beach house in Port Forsyth. February 7, 2016 Billy is behind, and I’m under pressure to install. The more I contact him, the less friendly he becomes—he’s realizing he’s in over his head, but that isn’t my fault. At the site, I met the Site Operations Supervisor, Construction Implementation Manager, Field Coordination Officer, and Senior Structural Lead—all of whom treated me like a trespasser. With Jessica gone from MAPSI, no one can vouch for me. The new liaison said I must install next month using professional installers, so I hired the Robson Museum crew—at great cost. March 4–8, 2016 Two days before installation, I learned I had to supply my own scaffold; the site’s were off-limits to “non-crew.” When my scaffold arrived, the On-Site Manifestation Officer halted us—my installers were in the wrong union. They needed to be part of the Society of Cultural Fabricators and Preparators (SCFP), not the Art Handlers Guild. I lost $1,400 in fees and rentals, then another day rearranging pickup. May 20, 2016 Second attempt: stopped again for lacking liability insurance. I apparently needed (and was not informed prior) to submit a Comprehensive Art Installation Risk & Liability Disclosure Packet (CAIRL-DP) with a Public Art Structural Hazard Mitigation Certification and Art Handling Incident Anticipation Form. All notarized. I’m asked to submit copies of the documents to Wilson Teevers in the architecture office. Lost another $1,500. I went home on the bus, swearing. October 17, 2016 Finally delivered the panels—only to find three missing. Billy insists it’s my fault, despite written proof. I hired another fabricator for $900 to create the missing panels. December 13, 2016 At the site visit, the Design Commission said the panels were crooked. In fact, the building walls are uneven— we triple-checked. My new installer improvised with spacers behind the panels to make it all look straight. It’s become a bureaucratic version of Tetris. May 16, 2017 Billy will not return my calls anymore. There is a lot of detailing needs to be done to scratches to the panels, which is the result of how poorly he stored them before delivering. He finally sent me a text saying he will only detail if I pay him $500 per scratch. Needless to say, I’m doing it on my own. August 27, 2018 To receive the Schedule 4 payment, I spent the month completing four forms: the Public Artwork Completion Documentation Packet (PACDP-7), Art Installation Verification and Record Submission Form (AIVRS-4A), Final Cultural Deliverables Certification File (FCDCF), and Artistic Outcome Documentation & Compliance Report (AODCR-11). The real challenge came at the Design Commission review. As stated in Section 9.4 of the Metropolitan Art in Public Spaces Initiative Guidelines, all completed works must be documented by a certified municipal photographer. Requirements included 24 high-resolution images (three with residents visible), dawn and dusk shots for “temporal resonance,” a Photographic Neutrality Affidavit, and a portfolio proving experience with “institutional exteriors, wellness environments, or commemorative statuary.” All files were to be submitted in TIFF and JPEG2000 formats, captioned to “Site Coordinate Grid Alpha-Map,” and co-signed by a notary. They need to be sent to Wilson Teevers in Beyer, Hofer & Løkken. January 18, 2019 I found a qualified photographer—her fee nearly equals my remaining payment. She’s available only at 7 a.m. on Wednesdays, meaning I must wake at 3 a.m. and coordinate hospital access. May 3, 2019 The documentation was rejected. The email cited “insufficient depiction of viewer affect” and failure to meet Clause 12.3, Demonstration of Public Delight. A loose traffic cone in one image (I can’t even remember why it was there) was said to “imply procedural laxity.” November 1, 2019 A follow-up meeting was scheduled at the hospital with the photographer, building manager, and Design Commission. Present were Leonard Vayne, Deputy Commissioner for Aesthetic Compliance; Tanya Wirth, Senior Program Analyst for Civic Engagement Metrics; an unnamed Public Art Compliance Officer; and the perpetually displeased hospital liaison, Stuart Ross. Our mutually agreed displeasure with one another was now so historic and established and our equally lmutual acceptance to the absurd fate of having to work together for years and years, we were almost friendly at meetings, laughing at times. The outcome: I must submit a Documentation Verification Index (DVI-1A) cross-referencing all prior forms, each initialed by two non-authors; an Aesthetic Alignment Confirmation (AAC-3C) to verify “design intent coherence”; and a Community Resonance Acknowledgment Filing (CRAF-4D) with three signed statements attesting to “the neighborhood’s prevailing sensibilities.” April 30, 2020 The pandemic has put the project on pause. No one was returning my emails until I finally heard from Iris Bouros, who is the new coordinator: all work must stop for the time being (even though the hospital is functional). Wilson Teevers was cc’d so the architects could be kept on the loop. April 13 2021 I finally heard we can go back to document. I can hardly remember now what my project was about. The photographer is annoyed about coming back and redoing the documentation; she is charging me double now. September 18, 2021 It finally looks like the documentation is approved after the successful submission of the Archival Integration Procedure form (AIP-9I). But now comes the last part, a coordinator (who now has inexplicably replaced Iris) mentioned in a robotic monotone. I need to provide a plaque with the title and description of the piece. February 3, 2022 At the final installation inspection meeting, I arrived early and, out of desperation, mounted the plaque before anyone else came—so no one could tell me how to do it. That turned out to be a mistake. Everyone was horrified. I was told I’d violated the Regulations for the Installation of Interpretive Plaques in Public Facilities, which required a Pre-Drilling Authorization Form (PDAF-6A), Textual Verification & Messaging Review (TVMR-4B), and Typeface Compliance Declaration (TCD-3C). All lettering must follow Federalton Sans Regular (Public Works Edition), 12–18 pt., kerning ratio 0.85; italics demand separate approval. I also needed a Wall Load Impact Study (WLIS-8E) by a licensed Microstructural Engineer to ensure the plaque didn’t endanger “architectural empathy,” and to comply with the Plaque Proximity Regulation (PPR-9G)—requiring an 18-inch distance from any other text, outlet, or corner to avoid “semantic clustering.” July 1, 2024 The approved plaque is finally installed. I now enter the hospital as if it were some kind of correctional institution. I was told by the coordinator there will be an official inauguration by the new Arts Commissioner. She came with the new city administration, and has no arts background: she was in City Council prior, where her staff filed a complaint against her for office work abuse. Before her appointment, the Commissioner had briefly served as Deputy Director for Cultural Partnerships, a tenure best remembered for an internal “climate review” following complaints about “tone and temperament in supervisory communication.” The city cleared her of wrongdoing, noting “her management style reflected a results-oriented approach to morale.” I showed to the building’s ribbon-cutting ceremony, packed with members of various community groups. Everyone was wearing purple T-shirts with the logo of St. Agnes; I was the only one not offered one. I knew this was mainly a political event, and my presence was primarily ornamental. Riedler was there, which I had not seen again since our first meeting years ago. He gave me a pat in the back and acted as if we were good old friends. I was told I would be invited to say a few words about my project and I had been asked in advance to write a blurb about it for the commissioner to introduce me. I wrote a short description of the work, explaining, for the umpteenth time, the project was as a tribute to Ivan Kovacic, a Croatian-American inventor born in Liberty Falls, invented the Hematograph in 1872. When she stepped up to the podium, the commissioner mispronounced my name and introduced me as a Croatian-American surgeon who had invented the “Her-matograph”. November 4, 2024 I still haven’t received my final payment. I must file an Interdepartmental Appropriation Reauthorization Request (IARR-12B) “to ensure funds earmarked for aesthetic implementation are re-channeled in compliance with civic expenditure protocols prior to secondary disbursement through architectural intermediaries.” The Architectural Fiscal Liaison must submit the form with proof the funds still theoretically exist, after which MAPSI’s Office of Artistic Disbursements must certify “programmatic legitimacy”—confirming the project still qualifies as art rather than “decorative infrastructure.” Finally, the Department of Cultural Infrastructure Oversight (DCIO) must countersign to verify “vertical fiscal coherence.” January 28, 2025 I’m told I’m to come by the offices of Beyer, Hofer & Løkken where I can pick my final check. I walk, for the last time, into the modernist glass box building and head to the top floor. There is no receptionist in this gigantic office, so visitors have to wander aimlessly in a maze of cubicles until finally someone there makes eye contact. Finally, a head pops out from a cubicle: it’s Wilson Teevers. I realize after all these years I had never seen him in person, nor ever talked to him. He has green hair and tatoos in his neck. Tatoos aside, he kind of has an air to a clown hired for children parties. Wilson smiles as he extends his arm to give me the check, without saying a word, and vanishes. He and I know there is nothing left to say. As I ride the elevator down, I realize it has been sixteen years since I received first email from Jessica. I think of who I was then and the graying individual I’m now. I walk out from the building’s lobby. The evening is cold and overcast— it’s rush hour and a stream of cars pass by in an interminable row, as if they would never end; I can’t cross the street. I think once again of Kovacic and remember what he once wrote about his invention. “The human body is an ocean of blood, and it’s only meaningful because it’s contained. I merely am the cartographer of containment.” I’m just another traveler in that river: a hormone, a mineral, a toxin, training through professional gravity to become, one day, perhaps, a clot. You're currently a free subscriber to Beautiful Eccentrics. For the full experience, upgrade your subscription.
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