Alumna exhibit ‘Inside Out’ inverts sense of space

The lines of unnamed photographs depicting fragments of buildings’ exteriors in the Macy Gallery at Teachers College create so much tension between the street and the structure that, for the first time, the viewer may become conscious of what it truly means to be inside a building.

The Macy Gallery is presenting the work of Donna Clovis—a photographer, journalist, and former student at the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism—through Sept. 17. The exhibit, titled “Inside Out,” explores the relationship between public and private spheres of life through photography and videos, in order to challenge viewers to look beyond surface elements and imagine what is inside an individual’s mind.

Depicting fragmented architectural details of colorful, unidentified buildings, such as the knobby columns of a balcony or a closed blue door, Clovis encourages observers to contemplate the feelings evoked by standing on the street as compared to standing at the inside of a house. She draws attention to the human-made lines drawn on buildings, whether they are wrought-iron fences or slanting railways, separating humans and preventing them from forming relationships with one another. This is alienating for the viewers, who cannot place themselves within the image.

Yet, Clovis simultaneously challenges the idea that a private space, such as a home or car, is a refuge. By focusing on lattice on windows and metal gates, it appears that the private area is a carceral location, functioning as a divider of human contact. It may look lovely, but the intricate detailing of railings and bars is, in fact, superficial ornamentation, distracting individuals from the need to bridge the gap between the self and the other.

Clovis also highlights graffiti on the sides of urban buildings in a movie about the intersection of public and private locations. She shows that this is an attempt at communication between the people outside and inside the buildings. The images’ bleakness and the often unintelligible handwriting remind the viewer that this attempt is often unsuccessful.

At times, Clovis features humans who are obviously either outside or inside, in order to reinforce her distinction between the two areas. A young boy stands on the street holding his bike, for example, and another person stands next to a window in a home. Yet, none of the figures look through the lens of the camera, which detracts from their ability to confront the viewer. Instead, they seem caught in the action of their lives, never in contact with others and unaware of this division.

In a violent shift, the exhibit’s next room features black-and-white naked photographs of the artist, foregrounded by fruit, a glass of liquid, a violin, and other objects. Clovis focuses on the distinction between an individual’s superficial bodily exterior and the more valuable interior the viewer cannot see, which is perhaps represented by the items. Just as Clovis never shows the insides of buildings, she cannot visually represent the inner workings of her mind—but the blurry, colorless images lack the presence of the earlier photographic cityscapes and may rightfully become an afterthought to the viewer.

The exhibit encourages spectators to fight the preconstructed social dividers that prevent them from entering the house—in other words, the mind—of a fellow human being. Clovis provides her own artistic mind as an example, indicating that allowing oneself to become acquainted with another person will break barriers and make a greater exchange of ideas possible.