1. Co-Prosperity’s Artist-run School is still open, but the new semester starts on the 8th (aka tomorrow) so waste no time. Â visit http://coprosperity.org/co-prosperity-school/Â
2.Â Apply to be a Sponsored Artist – High Concept Laboratories; deadline for applications is on July 15th
HCLâ€™s Sponsored Project Program is designed to promote the growth of artist and their work through the donation of customizable, no-cost support services including;Projects are chosen three times a year and last for a period of up to four months. Each season isÂ curatedÂ to represent emerging and established artists from a range of artistic disciplines. We sponsor three paths of development based on different intentions for the end-result of the project. Get the scoop here.
3. Submissions are now open for the 7th Annual Mono No Aware exhibition, to take place December 6th & 7th, 2013 at LightSpace Studios in Brooklyn, NY.Â Open to all artists; filmmakers, performers, poets, musicians – who incorporate Super 8mm, 16mm, 35mm or altered light projections as part of a live performance, installation, sculpture or expanded cinema presentation. Details here.
4.Â Project Anywhere : Deadline for proposal submissions for our 2014 program isÂ September 1, 2013.
Project AnywhereÂ is an expanded exhibition model encompassing the entire globe (and beyond) in which the role of curator is replaced with the type of peer review model typically endorsed by a refereed journal. Emphasizing artistic projects situated outside conventional exhibition contexts, Project Anywhere is dedicated to the promotion of advanced artistic practice at the outermost limits of location-specificity.
Project Anywhere endorses a two-stage peer review system comparable with the journal-based paradigm for assessing the quality of research outcomes in the arts. Accordingly, Project Anywhere is designed to suit artist academics working anywhere in the world who are seeking independent peer validation and international web-based dissemination for practice-based research.
Please send proposals (as an attachment) toÂ firstname.lastname@example.org.
Your proposal should include the following:
1. Title of proposed project.
2. Location(s), date(s) and duration for proposed project (this can be updated later).
3. A detailed project proposal clearly stating the project’s potential for creating new knowledge (please refer to the peer review guidelines atÂ www.projectanywhere.net).
4. Images, files (under 8mg in total) and links can be included where appropriate.
NB: To be eligible for the first stage of our peer review process, it is imperative that ALL name and contact details are removed from the actual proposal document (and accompanying materials). Contact details should be included in the body of the email only. Any submissions that do not conform to the above criteria will NOT be sent out for peer review. Please note that Project Anywhere does not provide project funding nor expect exclusive hosting rights. Accordingly, we welcome multi-partnered and collaborative projects and/or projects that are hosted by other arts institutions seeking blind peer-validation.Â more here.
5. Sheila Heti (author of “How a Person Should Be” among other things) has recently put out an open call, inviting enthusiasts to fill out a questionaire about women in clothes:
THROUGH CONVERSATIONS, INTERVIEWS, ESSAYS, SURVEYS, DIAGRAMS AND DRAWINGS, AND WITH CONTRIBUTIONS FROM A WIDE RANGE OF WOMEN, INCLUDING ESTABLISHED WRITERS AND ARTISTS LIKE MIRANDA JULY, ZADIE SMITH, ROXANE GAY, SARAH NICOLE PRICKETT, RIVKA GALCHEN AND EILEEN MYLES,Â WOMEN IN CLOTHESÂ WILL EXPLORE THE MULTIPLICITY OF MOTIVES THAT INFORM HOW WOMEN DECIDE TO PRESENT THEMSELVES, AND WHAT STYLE MEANS...IF YOUâ€™D LIKE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS BOOK, PLEASE FILL OUTÂ THE DOWNLOADABLE SURVEYÂ AND SEND IT BACK TO US. THE BOOK IS BEING BUILT PRIMARILY FROM THE ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS. YOU NEEDNâ€˜T BE A WRITER, OR CONSIDER YOURSELF FASHIONABLE, OR CARE ABOUT CLOTHES OR STYLE, TO PARTICIPATE. ALL AGES, NATIONALITIES, ETC. WELCOME. MEN, TOO. WE ARE STILL ACCEPTING CONTRIBUTORS. more info here.
6. Special shout out toÂ Chicago Artist Writers,Â Frieze writer’s prize for up-and-comers,Â the closing date for entries is 22 July 2013.
Frieze Writerâ€™s Prize is an annual international award to discover and promote new art critics. Â Entrants must submit one unpublished review of a recent contemporary art exhibition, which should be 700 words in length. Entries must be submitted in English, but may be translated (this must be acknowledged). Entrants must be over 18 years of age. To qualify, entrants may only previously have had a maximum of three pieces of writing on art published. The winning entrant will be commissioned to write a review forÂ friezeÂ and will be awarded Â£2,000. Entries should be emailed as a word attachment to email@example.com. Please do not send images.Â go here!
In reality, the Young-Girl is only the model citizen such as commodity society has defined it since WWI, as an explicit response to the revolutionary threats against it — Tiqqun,Preliminary Materials for aÂ Theory of The Young-Girl
A woman must continually watch herself. She is almost continually accompanied by her own image of herself — John Berger,Â Ways of Seeing
1. U-Chicago Artist in Residence is now open for Letters of Interest. DUE July 7th.
The Artists-in-Residence have studio space in theWashington Park Arts IncubatorÂ facility, creating an internal network and engaging the community on that site while becoming fully immersed in the artistic and intellectual life of the University, primarily through our programmatic partner, theÂ Center for the Study of Race, Politics, & Culture.
Artists have access to the University for research resources, courses, master classes, and workshops appropriate to each artistâ€™s discipline, and for conversations and collaborations with faculty and students. In addition, there will be ongoing interaction between the artists and theÂ Logan Center, which will be another locus for presentation of the artistsâ€™ works.Â More info on that here.
2. AREA Chicago: As Mairead Case pointed out last week, AREA is looking for submissions on the subject of kids.
We want to explore the social, political and cultural dimension of [Kids!]. How does our society define what it means to be a child, who counts as a child and who does not? How do kids participate in the world in general, in social justice struggles in particular? What does it mean to be growing up in Chicago? We want to see how children and adults come together to challenge and re-imagine ideas of “child” and childhood as a basis for to building more just communities and relationships. Over the next few months we will be organizing events, community discussions and special projects — and we want to hear from you! Check that out here.
3.Â Platform Residencies 2013-14 – Site Gallery, Sheffield, UK Â with aÂ Deadline: 19 July 2013.
Site Gallery is now accepting applications from visual artists for its acclaimed Platform residency programme. Artists are invited to propose an idea for which they need time, space and investment to develop to proof of concept stage.Â Each residency is worth Â£6,000.Â Go here for more info.
4.Â SHAME: OPEN CALL FOR ARTIST IN RESIDENCE PROGRAM 2014/2015Â Deadline: 30 September 2013
In 2014/2015, Center for Contemporary Arts (Celje), Miroslav Kraljevic Gallery (Zagreb) and the feminist curatorial group Red Min(e)d (Sarajevo/Ljubljana/Munich/Belgrade) are initiating a collaborative research project focused on the topic of Shame. Go here for details.
5. Want to go to Portugal?Â Last 2013 Call for Artists (Multidisciplinary) – ARTErraÂ Deadline-15thÂ September
ARTErraÂ is a residency for artists placed in a small village in Portugal. This structure as several work rooms, resources tools and partnerships that are able to provide to artists exceptional conditions to develop their work and projects.Â Please check out our webpage (www.arterra.weebly.com) to learn more aboutÂ ARTErra. Or go here to read the bi-lingual residency handbook.
6. And finally:Â OO FREQUENCY: AN OBJECT-ORIENTED MEDIA CHANNEL
OO Frequency welcomes short object-oriented videos, virtual presentations, and webinars. Submissions are open to anyone, although all videos will be screened for comportment with the journalâ€™s academic standards.Â Specifications: Videos must not exceed 10-minutes, will be shared both on the journalâ€™s website and YouTube, and are subject to editing for length requirements.Â Please send queries regarding submitting material for the Channel to firstname.lastname@example.org.
At the risk of trying to tie up a week too simply in one bow, I felt like each post had an underlying vision of Utopia, whether the artist residency in the woods, the dream of fashionistas, the work of uncovering and discussing gender dynamics, the performance of queer migration, or simply the project of a single book â€” each of this week’s articles strive toward something, something idyllic and often just out of reach.
“Ox-Bow is like Hogwarts for adults,” obviously. Or so says Duncan MacKenzie who is planning to teach a course there this summer.
“Chicagoâ€™s â€œart worldâ€ is in no way distinct from fashionâ€“especially as itâ€™s located within SAICâ€“but rather itâ€™s intimately connected to it,” or so says Paul Germanos who posted an incredible assortment of images from SAIC’s annual fashion show.Â
I wrote a piece about James Turrell’s darkness inÂ Pleiades, and how I confused a jpeg of the elevator landing at The Mattress Factory for Turrell’s lighted dark space. I’m not sure that it fits into the Utopia idea, but maybe my effort to muddle through an idea of darkness serves as an adequate counter point:
I went there first as a Sophomore in college with a group of friends. One friend in particular was an upper classman and seemed to have a better handle on contemporary culture. As such we deferred to his authority; to do so was pleasant; he rattled on about various rumors (and possibly fictions) that seemed to walk a tightrope between gossip, mysticism and art history. As someone with very little contact to contemporary art at the time, I relied on the banter of my peers to overcome whatever sense of alienation I might carry into unfamiliar situations. Standing in a pitch black room for an indefinite period of seemed both provocative and confusing. If I thought about it too much I wouldnâ€™t know what I was doing there. Still the narrative of the artist had me intrigued. Stories about Turrellâ€™s alleged arrest for helping young men dodge the draft. His Quaker background. His life in California that yielded an interest in minimalism, light, and science. Â As I prepared myself to walk down this very dark corridor in the year 2000, I was told that at the end, in the pitch black (and if I waited long enough) I would begin to see light, like stars (I thought), or a halo. My friend suggested it was the result of a primordial and biological fear of nothingness.
Juliana Driever posted an incredible interview with artist Andrea Washko, discussing feminism today â€” it’s place in American culture at large, how that compares with the art world we live in and what how discussions about feminism play out in the massively multi-player on-line role playing game, World of Warcraft:
WoW is geographically, economically, politically, socially, and racially diverse. Discussing feminism in WoW is like going to a virtual (but still very physical) city and having access to people who are also inhabiting many, many disparate places but simultaneously inhabiting the same virtual space.
2. WoW is an environment in which people talk a lot in a variety of different channels. You can access thousands of people on a server at once.Â Granted, not all 1,000 will want to discuss feminism with meâ€¦.but itâ€™s still a better, bigger, and more diverse sampling than I can get on a city street corner. I want to hear from rural + urban attitudes, â€œconservativeâ€ + â€œliberal,â€ worldly + isolated, antisocial + popular, blue collar + white collar + the unemployed + freelancers + students, etcâ€¦WoW is great because the anonymity of the space allows for a frankness that is both frightening and also impressive, because no one is held accountable for what they say.Â This could mean that people can lie, but more often it means that they can be as extreme as they like in their beliefs and not be judged for it (and are actually generally rewarded for it socially).
A new post from sweet sweet Atlanta via Meredith Kooi who has been posting consistently around and about the subject of performance. This week she wrote about John Q:
Atlanta-based idea collectiveÂ John QÂ premiered its workÂ The Campaign for Atlanta: an essay on queer migrationÂ at the Atlanta Cyclorama on Friday, May 17, 2013 and Saturday, May 18, 2013. The performance, an essay as John Q calls it, insists on exploring the phenomenon of queer migration into urban spaces, Atlanta being one of them. Using the space, movement, and pictorial qualities of the Cyclorama along with archival materials of queer filmmaker Crawford Barton, native to Resaca (about an hour north of Atlanta), later based in San Francisco, John Q essays (used here as a verb) a narrative of history, creative production, queerness, and geography.
Maintenance #3 features a collection of reviews from Mairead Case that discuss the following worksâ€”
+Â Triumph of the Ape: StoriesÂ by Todd Dills (THE2NDHAND, print edition 2013)
+Â nodsÂ by Carrie Lorig (Magic Helicopter Press, 2013)
+Â Madness, Rack, and Honey: Collected LecturesÂ by Mary Ruefle (WAVE Books, 2012)
+Â Tracyâ€™s TigerÂ by William Saroyan (Doubleday, 1951; out of print)
+Â The Mere FutureÂ by Sarah Schulman (Arsenal Pulp Press, 2009)
+Â ViolenceÂ by Vanessa Veselka and Lidia Yuknavitch (Guillotine Press, 2012)
Monica Westin interviewed Julia Klein about Soberscove Press and their latest book byÂ Robert Goodnough,Â Â Subject Matter of the Artist, a bookÂ “comprised of interviews [Goodnough] Â undertook with many artists,Â from Rothko to Pollock, about abstraction.” About this book, Klein says:
The mythology around Abstract Expressionism is complicated and weâ€™ve definitely received a flattened and manageable version of what was going on then, which was of course more complicated and not as neat. Iâ€™m glad you got this from the book. Thereâ€™s an art historian writing about this now and Iâ€™m really into her stuffâ€“ Valerie Hellstein. From her 2010 dissertation: â€œWhile Abstract Expressionism has come to signify heroic individuality and Cold War patriarchy, I want to suggest that it signifies the very obverseâ€”radical community that recognized separate-togetherness.â€
Goodnoughâ€™sÂ project isÂ appealing to me for its curiosity and humbleness- he was involved in the problem of non-representational subject matter and he wanted to talk about it with the leading artists of his time in order to understand it better himself, as well as to help art students and non-artists understand itÂ better; itÂ was weird and off-putting to a lot of people thenÂ (probably still). As Helen Harrisonâ€™s introduction points out, itâ€™s odd that this document isnâ€™t wider known and that is especially interesting toÂ meâ€¦. IÂ am pleased to be able to make it available through the publication of the book. Iâ€™mÂ also very pleased and proud to be able to publish Goodnoughâ€™s writings (though this isnâ€™t all of themâ€¦thereÂ are others that werenâ€™t in the purview of this book, which is focused on exactly what the title describes).
I was reading about James Turrell’s epic series of museum shows inÂ The New York TimesÂ recently and recalled a moment of my own recollection of his work.
It’s simple enough: I follow The Mattress Factory on Twitter. On November 26th, they tweeted an image of a room being painted.
I suppose because they mentioned that the lights were actually on, I assumed it referred to Turrell’s pitch black piece,Â PleiadesÂ (1983). (It does not â€” as I was told later, but bear with me, I’ll account for that discrepancy in the end).
I understood it to be a picture of a James Turrell’sÂ PleiadesÂ (1983)Â installation getting repainted. The image drastically transformed my reaction to the installation. Indeed, I had such a profound reaction to the tiny, banal image, I pulled it off twitter, and put it on my desktop where it has been sitting ever since.
There is no reason that that image should be particularly captivating. It is a familiar enough: gallery walls must constantly be painted and repainted, and if it didn’t have anything to do with Turrell, it would hardly be of interest. However, appearing as it did within the context of social media (and all the misunderstandings tweets can lead to) that is exactly why it made my jaw drop: because this tiny image challenged everything I had assumed via sensory experience of Pleiades.
Pleiades, is the first of Turrell’s “dark pieces.” At The Mattress Factory, as I recall, you go up an elevator and on the designated floor, you go through a doorway, down a pitch black corridor and into a pitch black room. You stop a metal rail. I have visited this room about three or four times over the course of ten years. Each time that one room has baffled me.
I went there first as a Sophomore in college with a group of friends. One friend in particular was an upper classman and seemed to have a better handle on contemporary culture. As such we deferred to his authority; to do so was pleasant; he rattled on about various rumors (and possibly fictions) that seemed to walk a tightrope between gossip, mysticism and art history. As someone with very little contact to contemporary art at the time, I relied on the banter of my peers to overcome whatever sense of alienation I might carry into unfamiliar situations. Standing in a pitch black room for an indefinite period of seemed both provocative and confusing. If I thought about it too much I wouldn’t know what I was doing there. Still the narrative of the artist had me intrigued. Stories about Turrell’s alleged arrest for helping young men dodge the draft. His Quaker background. His life in California that yielded an interest in minimalism, light, and science. Â As I prepared myself to walk down this very dark corridor in the year 2000, I was told that at the end, in the pitch black (and if I waited long enough) I would begin to see light, like stars (I thought), or a halo. My friend suggested it was the result of a primordial and biological fear of nothingness.
Whatever his prescribed cause, this is what is supposed to happen:
â€œPleiades, a work of darkness, utilizes the difference in function between the two types of photoreceptive cells, that is, cones and rods. The cones are suitable for discerning colors at light places. crowding toward the center of the retina. The rods serve to make out delicate shades in dark places, mostly gathering near the periphery of the retina. In the darkness designed by Turrell, the viewer experiences the difference between the two kinds of cells during the period of time when the eyes of adaptation to darkness takes place.â€
According to another visitor, you are supposed to see this:
It never happened to me.Â I waited in the dark for that thing to take place for about thirty minutes. Or maybe it was an hour. It could have also been 10 minutes that were simply so distilled from movement that they slowed and lengthened my sense of time. As I waited, all of my attention strained toward an event that was supposed to take place within my body and end up projected outwards, as a type of vision. I waited to see a white eye-shape in the dark. I was excited at first, and then defeated, slightly. Nothing happened. I remembered looking at countlessÂ Magic Eye posters in dorm rooms; I could never make out the subliminal texts/images in those either, no matter how many times I had been instructed to fuzz out my vision with the image pressed up against my nose.
Subsequent visits toÂ PleiadesÂ were no different. No vision appeared before me in the dark. Because I no longer expected it, however, I had grown more interested in thinking about the darkness that space afforded. I suppose I still waited, in an almost existential way, for something to happen, but the sense of waiting became more interesting than the event I waited for. I realized that the whole project of PleiadesÂ was existential â€” whether something emerged in the darkness or not. I began to appreciate the feeling of that darkness, the way it seemed to extend endlessly, the slight terror at its unknown breadth. I distinctly recall a very faint breeze which enhanced the dimension of the room, but that too could have been my imagination. I preferred to inhabit the space by myself, perhaps it seemed more noble that way. When strangers came and stood beside me, I was Â distracted by my attempts to anticipate their movements and, even, their physical shape. Remember, it’s impossible to see anything, even another form. It was more complicated to inhabit an Unknown when others, particularly people you don’t know, are trying to do the same. On several occasions, I accidentally stepped on a foot and had to apologize, breaking the spell of silence through my clumsy, miscalculated movement. The moment of contact, my foot on the strangers, the exclamation of paint â€” it established a common, temporal location in the room, overshadowing the otherwise relentless blankness everywhere else. I stepped back. Held my breath for a moment and settled again into my feet. The room would grow still once more and with it our sense of the darkness grew. At times it felt oppressive, at others benign, certainly it felt ambivalent towards me. It was larger, more constant and self-assured than I was. I sort of enjoyed being intimidated by it â€” because I began to develop a relationship with that room. I didn’t see any lights, but the darkness became “something.” I’ve ever experienced such spatial endlessness. And while I never saw those lights, there was some part of me that enjoyed the incongruity of my own experience; perhaps I felt I had a more “true” experience because it seemed more nihilistic to experience nothing.
You can imagine then, what shock that tiny jpeg. of boys painting a room would give me. It looks like they could be inÂ a closet! I was so shocked at the thought that I had misunderstood the room, I instantly believed it to be true. The vague confirmation provided by the tweet-conversation I had with The Mattress Factory seemed to confirm my sense, which was so exuberant as to lack self-consciousness, that everything I assumed to be true about that dark room was wrong in so far as it could haveÂ existed in a tiny-tiny-tiny room.Â I realized that even though I did not see “the light” I was still projecting dimension and psychology into Turrell’s darkness. It was affecting me. I was affecting myself through the medium of darkness provided byÂ Pleiades.
As I said, I since learned this is not Pleiades itself, but ratherÂ an image of the elevator landing on the Turrell floor of the Mattress Factory. While the true dimensionality of that roomÂ remains a mystery, I am all the more certain of the evocative uncertainty it yields.
Pleiades is a Dark Piece where the realm of night vision touches the realm of eyes-closed vision, where the space generated is substantially different than the physical confines and is not dependent upon it, where the seeing that comes from ‘out there’ merges with the seeing that comes from ‘in here,’ where the seeing develops over and through dark adaptation but continues beyond it. It is the first piece in a series of works. While it relates to the last piece of the Mendota Stoppages, 1969-70, in that it develops over time, it is definitely a departure in that after the seeing develops, it is no longer static.Â The thing that gave me the idea to do this was the fact that I needed to work with very low levels of light for the night seeing in the crater piece. The last time that I had really worked in that arena was with the Mendota Stoppages where I had some very dark pieces that took a long time of dark adaptation, sometimes as much as fifteen minutes. When you actually had that seeing, though, the space that was generated was a static space â€“ you saw it and could walk in it, but it didn’t change. In this work, what is generated in you and what is actually out there become a little more equal.Â – James Turrell, The Mattress Factory