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he unexpectedly found inspiration right on
campus. “A series of events at Vanderbilt led
me to the Secrecy Series,” he says, going on to
recount the well known and lengthy contretemps
around that time between the University and
Don Evans, then associate professor of fine arts.
In one of his photography classes, Evans invited
students to choose, explore and present the
work of a photographer whose work interested
them. One student chose controversial Robert
Mapplethorpe. Prior to the students’ presentation,
Evans warned the class some of
the images might be offensive, and invited
anyone who thought they might feel
uncomfortable to leave the class. No one
did; yet, later a female student in the room
reported to the dean that she had, in fact,
been offended by the photos. That, according
to Aurbach, set in motion a surveillance-type
operation that included students
observing, monitoring and reporting on
Evans to the administration. While that
was taking place, a student asked Evans
to show some of his work, which focused
on breast fetishism. Following more complaints,
the University charged him with
unintentional sexual harassment. That
accusation so enraged fellow faculty, staff
and some students that 300 people protested
the action on the steps of Kirkland Hall
and, later, more than 800 attended an
event sponsored by the Freedom Forum
to discuss the incident.
“Everyone survived it,” Aurbach says
sarcastically. “But I, and many others,
never really recovered from it. I have always
wondered since that time if there might be a
student in my class writing a report on me,
monitoring me for the administration.”
“The Confessional,” another piece in the
Secrecy Series, is a procession of buttressed
sheet-metal arches, each armed with motiondetector
beeping alarms that are activated as
visitors walk toward the priest’s door. On either
side of them is a confessional booth, inside of
which are closed-circuit televisions projecting
back one’s own image.
Next came the 1998 triptych of relief sculptures
titled “Witness: Conspiracy No. l,”“Witness:
Conspiracy No. 2,”and “Witness: Conspiracy
No. 3.” They all contain the tools of surveillance:
headphones, cameras, recorders and
microphones.
“The Institution”(1997), a room-sized interactive
installation, not only is a shot at institutional
secrecy, but a direct hit on Vanderbilt.
Sheathed in galvanized steel, the triangular
entryway (an upside-down V) is a reproduction
of Vanderbilt’s administration building,
Kirkland Hall. A closer look reveals that it is
also the inseam of a man’s pants, the patterning
on the door a zipper, and the metal flap at
the top the zipper pull. Message boards proclaim:“We
regret any hardships created by this
“The Administrator,”
another huge Aurbach
sculpture, measures
8 by 18 by 12 feet.
situation.”“We have no comments at this time.”
“Never reveal your sources.”“Alter personal
files.”“Avoid direct contact with employees.”
If “The Institution”indicted the whole, then
“The Administrator”goes after the parts, mocking
the individuals who hold the reins of power
over the University. Entry to the galvanized
steel-encased office is prohibited by barred
openings and needle-like projections along the
top.As always, the piece brims with visual wordplay
so plentiful the viewer always feels he is
missing something. Kneepads are provided for
addressing the boss, hoops are available for
jumping through, vacuum cleaners allow for
sucking up, and a lineup of rubber stamps offers
the options to tag something “confidential,”
“delay” or “terminate.”
Asked about his relationship with Vander-
bilt, Aurbach responds quickly: “Terrible!” he
laughs. “I’m a social irritant. I get to be like
‘60 Minutes’ used to be: nagging, relentless, irritating.
I’m one of the only people in my family
since the Bolshevik Revolution to work for
someone else. So it is difficult. I am not against
authority, though; I am against stupidity.”
There is little in the academic world that
Aurbach finds more stupid or more irritating
than the notion of critical theory, and
that is driving his new work. “The ‘Secrecy
Series’ is morphing into ‘The Critical
Theorist.’ Critical theory is a form of
scholarship that has grabbed hold of
academia, that contends you don’t have
to prove anything. It’s all theory. I have
done three pieces; the first used kitchen
equipment because [critical theory] is
all cooked up.”
In order to affect the system, Aurbach
is capable of working within the system,
as long as it suits him. For many years
he was deeply involved with the College
Art Association, with the intention of
making sure new teachers understood
expectations, the tenure process for art
instructors, how to obtain full professorship,
and how to define national recognition.
From 2002 to 2004 he served as
president of the CAA, the first person
from a Southern institution to do so
since Lamar Dodd from the University
of Georgia served from 1956 to 1958.“It’s
a big deal,” he says proudly.“In 2006 the
CAA will host a forum here at Vanderbilt
titled ‘How Far Can You Let Your Students
Go Before You Impinge on the First Amendment?’
Considering some of the things going
on in Nashville lately, it should be of great
interest.”
Though he believes “Vanderbilt still hasn’t
figured out the art thing,” promising developments
are on the horizon. Studio art classes,
previously required only for art history majors,
will count for the first time as part of the
core curriculum. The decrepit Cohen Art Building
will be closed, and by early summer a new,
$13 million, 45,000-square-foot Studio Art
Center will open.
“It will be the first time I’ve had an office in
18 years, and I will have a studio that is easily
accessible and can accommodate my work.
That new building will add years to my career.”
V a n d e r b i l t M a g a z i n e 31