Sean Schumacher (b. 1986) retells stories through breadcrumbs, trailing hints about an ignored or forgotten past, the whispered half-truths of secrets and rumors, or fleeting narratives told through equally temporary means. Through copious research, unusual applications of everyday technologies, and added humor, he provides viewers a sense of the moments, places, and narratives that have been lost, or are simply going unnoticed around them.

Having grown up in Las Vegas before relocating to pursue a graduate degree, Schumacher’s most recent work explores these themes through his unique hometown—a place with a short history unpreserved, a built landscape repeatedly razed, and a population that has consisted for most of its history of long-term tourists shifting ever-further from any area with the slightest hint of age. Seeking an understanding of the city’s urban fabric as a whole through an investigation of maps, property surveys, and place names left displaced by the implosion of casinos and the abandonment of neighborhoods, he seeks an understanding of what being a local means when the person and the place are altered by distance and destruction, and what damage the ideals of the twentieth century’s disdain for the past had on its disposable locality.

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Sean Schumacher

I never wanted it to be this way, either

Gallery Exterior, by Melanie Coffee
The exterior of Grant Hall Gallery, with a view into the birthday party-themed installation inside. Photo courtesy of Melanie Coffee.

Archie C. Grant Hall, the home of UNLV's art program, has spent much of its fifty years maligned and in disrepair, waiting for death; as longtime professor Mark Burns said, the building has been "two years away from demolition for the last twenty." Despite its checkered existence, Grant Hall is now the only structure remaining from the school's earliest years. I never wanted it to be this way, either echoed the calls from students and faculty that it be demolished with its own suicidal yearning on the very day its cornerstone was laid 50 years previous (April 26, 1959).

I never wanted it to be this way, either also encompassed a ceremony recreating the ceremony to lay of the building's cornerstone. For more information on that portion, skip ahead, or view the script used in the ceremony.

This project was produced in collaboration with Stephanie Potell.

The birthday cake (after Corridor B)
What birthday would be complete without a cake? This one was designed to match the color and condition of heavily-damaged green vinyl-asbestos tiles in one of the building's corridors. Photo courtesy of Mikayla Whitmore.
Vacuum as art
Central to the installation were the items of the building itself. Here, a broken vacuum left by a graduate student over a decade before stands proudly on a plexiglass pedestal as a work of art. Photo courtesy of Melanie Coffee.
Chair installation and copies of the Epilogue
A collection of different generations of chairs from the building made another installation piece, along with original copies of the yearbook published during the university's formative years. Photo courtesy of Krystal Ramirez.
Patrons view odd historical remnants
Scraps of history, found everywhere on the building but forgotten, played a part in the party as well. Here, breaker sheets listing the original purposes of rooms (including the gallery as a library) hang beside taped-up asbestos abatement notices. Photo courtesy of Krystal Ramirez.
The abandoned chandelier from corridor A lights the room.
Photo courtesy of Melanie Coffee.
The abandoned chandelier from corridor A lights the room.
Visitors were also invited to pose for pictures with the "Grant Hall Relic," one of the original asbestos tiles from the building's corridor B and the inspiration for the birthday cake. Photo courtesy of Melanie Coffee.
Grant Hall's Facebook page
Grant Hall's persona extended into the domain of social networking as well. The project developed a Facebook profile for the building, which has continued to document the state and mood of Grant Hall's persona even since the conclusion of the project. Interested parties are invited to add Grant as a friend.

Cornerstone Ceremony

On Sunday, April 26, 1959 at 1:00p.m., the Grand Lodge of Masons laid the cornerstone, and therefore completed, what would become Grant Hall. Exactly fifty years later, on Sunday, April 26, 2009 at 1:00p.m., the masonic ritual was performed again with the very same script to install the one thing that would truly finish the building—hand soap. The location of the soap, in the upstairs womens' restroom, was chosen by popular vote during the birthday party.

To read a copy of the script, visit the consecration ceremony's page.

Sean reads the opening of the script
Sean reads the opening of the masons' script. Photo courtesy of Mikayla Whitmore.
Spectators including faculty members Stephen Hendee and Wendy Kveck attended
Photo courtesy of Thomas Willis.
Sean and Stephanie performing the ceremony
"So mote it be." Photo courtesy of Thomas Willis.
The completed soap, anointed with oil and corn and having been proven square
The consecrated hand soap, anointed with oil and corn and having been proven square. Photo courtesy of Thomas Willis.
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