Can a Museum Revolution Stop Time?
Soviet Propaganda Poster — Smart Museum Chicago

What if there was no word for weekend and we never had a day off? No “TGIF” because there was no Saturday? No “hump day” because there was no Friday?

I found out one day, when the weather outside was frightful. I took cover in the nearest museum. On this snowy morning, it was the Smart Museum on the University of Chicago campus. The Smart had never made my radar, and so was a lovely surprise, and also, it was warm.

The draw? “Revolution Everyday”, a temporary exhibit staged to correspond with the 100th anniversary of the 1917 Russian Revolution.

Say goodbye Julian calendar, hello Gregorian, sayonara seven-day week, bye-bye 365 days… A masterpiece of mind control unveiled. No word for weekends, poof!

The focus of the exhibit was design, not time; the draw was the design representative of that period; block letters in reds and a particular cement-like color. Indeed, on walking into the room, the music and video presentations filled me with a revolutionary fervor.

Such brazen calls to work designed with a specific target audience: woman. Evoking Rosie the Riveter, these women stood strong and tall and proud, marching into the revolutionary future, no longer oppressed by the rule of men.

Yet it was not the glorious Soviet Propaganda poster art that sent my heart afire, but instead a surprise tucked into a corner. Dystopian calendar art to top any dystopian vision. Propaganda to end all propaganda: the reinvention of time.

Five days in a week, factories working continuously without weekends, color-coded numbers and symbols marking the type of work to be performed. Religious Holidays removed,

In some calendars, the type of work was represented by five symbols representing the type of work to be performed; sometimes a sheaf of wheat, a red star, a hammer a sickle, a book, or a military cap.

The stunner was the Star Automatic Calendar for Twenty-One Years.

The Star calendar was a whirl of mystical symbols, calling to mind alchemical art of the Middle Ages or an astrological chart or a post for a carnival fortune teller. And like magic, the calendar blended form and function, designed so that by rotating the central star becoming a calendar for any month by moving an to align the number “1” with the day of the week on which the month starts. A single calendar that was good for twenty-one years.

A tribute to the exhibits impact, one of oppression and government control, I had the sensation of freedom as I stepped out of the Soviet gallery and found myself in a room of arts and crafts. There I found a Frank Lloyd Wright dining table and six chairs. Nearby stood a wooden cabinet, covered with delightful Japanese glazed plates and objects. Who was the artist? The exhibit label informed me: Theaster Gates.

Read more about the Theaster Gates experience in Part II: Do your security staff see your art?
['Pam Ashlund']
['Museums', 'Orwell', 'Theaster Gates', 'Propaganda', 'Revolution']