Sarah Aziz, a professor at the University of New Mexico, has lived in Wisconsin, previously studied at the Art Institute in Chicago, and traveled widely throughout the Midwest. That being the case, she has always been puzzled by why the architecture in this part of the country hasn’t been more celebrated. 

“The fact that some of the biggest architects of our time have started their careers here is of no small importance,” she said. “I’ve been slowly collecting the names of everyday buildings in each of the Midwestern states, where those who have been trained in architecture can see that the aspirations of the architect were much grander than what has been produced. Because of the nature of the building—a Walgreens or municipal building, for example—it has never been looked at closely by the architectural community.”

To answer her own question and correct the situation, she created a project titled Nothing to See Here: A huge banner that can theoretically be seen by people in planes above the “flyover states” will wave above the installation for Opening Weekend. But if she wants to attract people’s attention to this area, why did she choose that name?

“‘Something to see here’ doesn’t create desire,” she said. “But when someone says ‘Nothing to see here’ or 'Don’t look at this,’ you want to look at it far more than if someone had given you the green flag.”

The installation, she said, highlights the fact that the Midwest has long been a critical yet overlooked infrastructure for producing architectural discourse on America’s coasts. 

A lover of folk art, Aziz decided on that medium to make her point.  

“The Midwest is one of the richest landscapes for folk art in all of the United States,” she said. “I have seen lots of homemade, DIY shrines often placed in gardens across the United States but predominantly here in the Midwest. These are often upturned bathtubs with virgin Madonnas inside of them.” 

Instead of Madonnas, however, the shrines she has constructed are to infamous architects from the 12 Midwestern states. At its core, the project asks: Who do we valorize in architecture, and why? Who is “inside”? And who is “outside”? Why is the Midwest dismissed as flyover country, despite being a training ground for elite academics and a testing site for architectural experimentation? What do we owe the places—and people—we build on, with, and for? 

To address these questions, she used everyday, off-the-shelf materials such as raised garden planters and fire pit glass to create tubs/shrines with ordinary exteriors and extraordinary interiors. She engaged two Midwestern artists, Steve Carner and Ana Skolnik, to develop materials to adorn and fill the tubs. Carner chainsaw-carved the 12 Midwestern architects and Skonlnik transformed the colors, flags, and quilt squares from each state into new flags. Aziz’s fascination with detailed patterns and architectural “bling” was sparked by Loy Bowlin, the “original Rhinestone Cowboy,” who bejeweled his Mississippi home and just about everything he owned (including his dentures) with rhinestones. 

“His obsessive attention to pattern and detail was something I wanted to bring into this work,” Aziz said. “Even though the budget is small and the scale is huge, the loss of detail doesn’t have to occur.”

She said she also respects and admires the creativity in the Midwest—the way people are able to use cheap, off-the-shelf materials to fashion highly customized things, which she said Bowlin exemplified. Inspiration also came from Alexander Girard, whose folk art she had seen at the International Folk Art Museum before she saw the collections he gathered for the Miller family.

The legacy of J. Irwin Miller and New Harmony’s Jane Blaffer Owen have also energized her work—their love for experimentation and the appetite for something new. 

“Yes, my project is a little tongue-in-cheek,” she said. “But it pays homage to the brilliance of the Midwest. Maybe people who continue to believe there is nothing to see here can check their assumptions.”