The first thing I saw upon entering Out of Site: Survey Science and the Hidden West at the Autry Museum of the American West in Los Angeles was a backlit reproduction of American Progress by John Gast. The original painting was made in 1872; it is an allegory for Manifest Destiny, but it is described on the placard as “one of the era’s best-known renditions of ‘progress’ from east to west in visible waves of peoples and technologies.” The text additionally states that “the painting’s main message is that knowledge and technology are destined to sweep across the nation.”
So to start: A cultural institution in what is widely seen as the most progressive state in the country is still propagating the myth that white people had the right to do and take whatever they wanted, but in today’s context, it is inspired by knowledge and technology as opposed to the religion that motivated that period’s settlers? The issue with having this work kick off the exhibition isn’t that it’s problematic propaganda; it’s how its problematic nature is poorly acknowledged and detailed before being followed by work that, at times, documents and attempts to criticize such attitudes and ideologies. If it were better contextualized, it could perhaps be powerful; although, I guess we’ll never really know.
After having my mind immediately melted by the Gast copy, I encountered a section dealing with the mining explosion created by the California Gold Rush. The accompanying wall text briefly mentions the genocidal destruction of Northern California’s Indigenous cultures but largely focuses on the technology used to extract the minerals. A selection of photographs by Carleton Watkins depicts hydraulic mining operations and its side text states that by making a connection between the beautiful blasts of water used in this process and some of his stunning landscapes captured within the Yosemite Valley, he “helped codify the industrial transformation of the Western landscape as the definitive force in shaping American identity.” However, this grandiose language simultaneously obfuscates and distracts from the reality of the situation. In fact, much like with the American Progress text, the seemingly matter-of-fact tone here makes it appear like an endorsement of the hydraulic mining process. But it fails to mention that Watkins helped persuade the federal government to protect Yosemite; it also fails to mention the flooding of farmlands, the landslides, and the mercury that still leeches out of the Sierra Nevada Mountains during heavy rainfalls, as a result of this hydraulic mining.
In the final room of the exhibition, which is centered around surveillance, I was drawn to the work of two extremely established contemporary artists – both of whom are relevant to the more slippery aspects of photography, nature, and politics – for very different reasons. Trevor Paglen, who has a Ph.D. in Geography, is equal parts conceptual artist and con artist and is renowned for toeing the line between conspiracy theorist and critical theorist. No matter what he produces and/or displays, it almost always heavily relies on some complicated backstory for it to be imbued with the artist’s intended meaning. In this instance, Paglen used powerful binoculars and telescopes to document classified military sites in the Southwest; there is supposed to be deft and discerning messaging about the military industrial complex, but, ultimately, Paglen merely offers up semi-attractive abstract images.
John Divola’s Blue with Exceptions 16576 (12_16_2020) and Blue with Exceptions B9526 (2_21_2022) taken in 2020 and 2022 are more recent examples of the artist using spray paint to alter the interiors of specific spaces in and around his hometown of Los Angeles, with these being taken at the discontinued and decrepit George Air Force Base in Victorville, CA, a city in the region’s high desert. In the former photo, this effect makes the outside world look even brighter and hotter than in reality and the inside room feels even darker and more depressing than one would expect. In the latter, the artist used the shadows cast by the wooden ceiling beams and black and red spray paint to make a crude yet sophisticated geometric abstract painting.
In the late ’70s, Divola began taking similar photographs of deserted houses on Zuma Beach in Malibu. In both cases, the source of abandonment is government culpability — with the military site, toxic chemicals were discovered in the groundwater, causing the base to shutter and its surrounding community to suffer; with the beach homes, real estate and cost of living can be properly regulated by those in power, but as is always the case, weren’t. Fortunately, with Divola’s work, you don’t need a didactic pamphlet to explain everything (or anything, really) to you — it’s experiential, it’s immediate, it’s powerful, it’s profound.
As I exited the museum, I thought back to the quote about “shaping American identity.” Isn’t identity in the United States simply about the desire for power, money, and control, or at least isn’t that the assumption, since it’s assumed we will all bend to the will of Lady Liberty and assimilate with ease? I mean, isn’t that the irony of “the land of the free”? We have so many identities that actually shape this nation, but none of them seem to shape what is projected to be the nation’s identity. Identity in the U.S. has never been about industrialization; it’s not about religion, politics, or sports, either. All of these things can just be boiled down to power, money, and control, too. For example, when I saw this exhibition, the Dodgers had just won the World Series; most of the city was thrilled about this result. But let’s not forget that the land Dodger Stadium sits on was stolen from predominantly Spanish-speaking Mexican-American homeowners by the government, using eminent domain.
Again, irony is at play here — a few decades after these individuals were forced out of their habitats, the Dodgers signed the shy yet stylish Mexican pitcher, Fernando Valenzuela; the unorthodox phenom’s success led to “Fernandomania,” which is, in many ways, just another example of how in the history of Manifest Destiny, powerful men try to erase atrocities with new shiny things. This will forever be how those at the top of societal and economic tiers wash away the filthy truths, cleanse their sins, and put forth a fraudulent “American” identity.
Out of Site: Survey Science and the Hidden West
Autry Museum of the American West
Presented with the Getty’s PST ART: Art & Science Collide
May 18, 2024 to January 5, 2025