Local Boutique Sells Studio Floor Scraps; Calls it Art
Sofia Leiby’s Second Scrap Heap Sale Hits Tusk June 7th
WTT? is always on the lookout for a good bargain (aren’t we all?), and this fire sale is the cheapest/ best deal since Kate Ruggeri’s public drawing trade. After Scrap Heap’s drying rack debut was unfortunately dampened by rain last summer at Medium Cool, Sofia Leiby is back with an even bigger roster of artists willing to sell their tra$h for ca$h. Putting her scraps where her mouth is, Leiby will be hocking studio ephemera for $20 or less.
Delightfully affordable work by Leslie Baum for Scrap Heap II.
Flyer by Louis Doulas.
Featuring artists such as Ryan Travis Christian, Ron Ewert, Magalie Guerin, Ben Foch, Josh Ippel, Leslie Baum, Aron Gent, Emre Kocagil, Tyson Reeder and Aya Nakamura, the fragments and sketches will be available for a limited time only from 11-5PM, June 7th at TUSK.
Matisse much? Aya Nakamura’s painted scraps.
Already jealous of whoever picks up this glorious scrap by Edmund Chia.
More information and preview photos can be found on Leiby’s Facebook. All proceeds will go to participating artists. Tusk is located at 3205 W Armitage in Logan Square.
Shannon Straton dressed in Renovar for the Threewall’s Skywalker Benefit on June 7th VS Kimye’s post wedding gown.
The Weatherman Report
For Chicago IL
Alex Katz, Late Summer Flowers, 2013, 38 color silkscreen on 4-ply, 40 × 55 in, Edition of 50. Vertu Fine Art.
BREAKING: Fitzpatrick to Go Out with a Bang. And a Stage Show. And a Magazine Portfolio.
The artist plans his “sweet goodbye” to Chicago.
If you’ve been awe-struck and slack-jawed since Jason Foumberg broke the news of Tony Fitzpatrick’s departure in April, you may also be wondering where the artist will hold his final exhibition as a Chicago resident. Pick up your face, the wait is finally over: Fitzpatrick’s last show, The Secret Birds (knack for titles, huh?) will be held at the Poetry Foundation from July 1st – September 12th.
Fitzpatrick’s Ice Bird.
Formerly only a student of Studs Terkel and the streets, the 55 year old is leaving his lifelong home for the University of New Orleans. His interest in birds not confined to printmaking, Fitzpatrick will study ornithology and natural history in the fall. In addition to the exhibition in the Foundation’s gallery, Fitzpatrick will also produce a stage version of the show, drawn from his poetry and other writings, of the same name. The performance will feature Martha Lavey (Steppenwolf) and music by Frank Orrall (Poi-Dog Pondering). It will premiere on July 31.
Walk on the Wild Side (Drawing for Lou Reed)
In case you’re not totally Tony’d out, Poetry will also run a portfolio in the July/August dedicated to Lou Reed entitled “The Day Lou Reed Set Me Free.” After that it’s time for Fitzpatrick to update his bio before he spreads his wings and flies away.
Look out for info on the opening and performances related to The Secret Birds. Definitely serving high-quality snacks. The Poetry Foundation is located at 61 W Superior in River North.
T around Town
What you missed while you were at Kimye’s wedding.
Artist, Matt Schlagbaum, convinces viewers to stare at “blank” wall at the opening for In the land of thieves and ghosts at Heaven Gallery in Wicker Park.
GDBD bathed their viewers in their signature pink in and outside of the F&A.
T around Town Continued.
SPOTTED: Chris Hammes and Michelle Harris at In the land of thieves and ghosts.
More ethereal work by Matt Schlagbaum at Heaven Gallery.
Conceptual Artist Lecture Even More Perplexing Than His Work. Richard Tuttle speaks at The Logan Center on the evening of May 13th
A Tale of Two Anthony’s. Romero and Stepter outside the The Artists’ Congress held at Northwestern May 17th. If you missed your chance to discuss radical politics in the arts, you’ll have another chance June 22nd at the follow up picnic to be held at Mana Contemporary in Pilsen.
Good luck ever looking cool again if you missed the Chicago Looks Spring Swamp held at Elastic Arts Sunday May 18th. You already know we love a bargain! Featuring an unbelievable record swap, boozy punch and choice Buffalo Exchange worthy clothes all for free, the event also had local vendors like Leah Ball and Kokorokoko selling affordable duds and accessories. Shout out to the vivacious Isa Giallorenzo of Chicago Looks and the lovely Leah Ball for hooking it up!
Staged inside the 2014 Whitney Biennial, three operas, originally written and scored by American composer Robert Ashley, and currently directed by Alex Waterman, took place: Vidas Perfectas, The Trial of Anne Opie Wehrer, and Crash.
A floor to ceiling mirror forms part of the stage backdrop in both Vidas Perfectas and The Trial of Anne Opie Wehrer, and in Vidas, video cameras shoot around and behind the actors through mirror reflection for in-camera image overlays. E.S.P. TV, an organization dedicated to live studio broadcast, real-time edits the multiple camera angles and transformations into the live-feed television taping in front of the audience. The live feed composition changes according to a written score, melding shots of the performers with scenic footage from a town, coordinated in time with the language spoken on stage.Vidas Perfectas is the seven episode Spanish version of opera-for-television, Perfect Lives, performed live in varying incarnations since 1978. In July, Vidas Perfectas will be performed in El Paso, Texas; Ciudad Juarez, Mexico; and Marfa, Texas.
Actors enter the scene with their lines printed in hand. Strict memorization is never a part. Memorization of lines might be impossible. Plot premises are visible right away, however hypnotic the scripted effect. In Vidas Perfectas, there is a bank robbery, a marriage, a getaway, a distraction – the plot endlessly ropes. Yet, the plot twists fall away, and as it seems – none of it ever mattered. Only the plot’s textured details are omniscient: the returning Bartender, virtuoso piano playing, gossip. Plot is a regurgitation of a television drama through a border town.
I interviewed a performer in Vidas Perfectas, Raul de Nieves, and asked: “Originally, Perfect Lives was set on the Illinois and Indiana border. Is Vidas Perfectas set in a particular place on the Mexican border, or is it anywhere or everywhere on the border?”
Raul: “I think it’s anywhere and everywhere on the border. Vidas Perfectas, the Spanish version of Perfect Lives, to me is more like songs. I remember the first time I crossed the border here, when I moved from Mexico to California. Once you cross, you can’t go back, or you could, if you have papers. Borders, they do exist. It’s a very important piece of land that divides everything.”
I also spoke to Elisa Santiago, a performer alongside Raul in Vidas, “You played more than one character in the play?”
Elisa: “Everyone plays a few voices. Sometimes more percussive, sometimes more airy, sometimes more determined. And Alex (Waterman) always insisted that sometimes we are speaking from the character’s voice, but sometimes we are speaking from the landscape.”
Raul played several characters – the Captain of the Football Team, the Bartender, and as he said, “the way it was explained to me was, I was one of these voices that are supposed to not be there – ”
Erin: “Part of a chorus?”
Raul: “Like those voices in the back of your head that are telling you what to do or what not to do.”
Qualities in common between the three operas are slowed speech in stark surroundings, an onslaught of talking. Intermittent information leaks into the set from the world – a discussion of statistics, footage of a rolling highway, photographs of talent agency advertisements, and questions, like, “Have you ever used the telephone to falsify your identity?”
Ashley writes operas about being ill at ease. The scripts are composed largely of conversations. Either the plot or the conversation, depending on the opera, becomes hard to follow. For example, The Trial of Anne Opie Wehrer presents a person on trial – in the original it was performed by Anne Opie Wehrer, a friend and collaborator of Ashley’s. The new version put four distinct personalities on trial over four performances during which the tone changed from combative to manic to squeamish. Elisa: “In the Trial, for instance, there are proxy characters and interrogators – the proxies could answer real answers from their own lives, or answers through Anne’s story. They had really researched Anne’s biography and her answers, and they could give her answers.”
Interrogators sit behind the person on trial and ask questions, until, at some point the question-askers begin to become the answer-givers, forming a interrogative chorus from behind. An interrogative meditation.
Elisa Santiago described Ashley’s method for writing scores, “Some thoughts are very short within a longer thought. There is the thought, and the reaction to the thought, in one line. It’s almost like he is asking something and answering it in the the same line. Almost talking to himself.”
Robert Ashley scripts are speech patterns built, at times, from Ashley’s own, real-life speech impediment. Ashley learned to speak slowly in order to calm a stutter. He replicated his own mannerisms in written scripts for actors to perform. The performers learn to speak by beats.
A most pronounced example comes from Crash:
The Journal [Year 2]
At two years old I got e—
I was a baby sitting in water in an iron tub on a metal t—
There’s an electric wall plug right there and wh—
Next thing is that some part of me is up in the up—
“Our safe anchor is the page,” said Elisa, “but you can be a little open. Even though time is very specific – you never want to lose that beat, if a piece is in 5 or in 7, we don’t want to lose the 7, but sometimes things get more circular. It’s always not so sharp. If we drift a little in this thing, becoming a little more open, then as a listener, you don’t know where the 7 goes, and that’s when I love it the most. As a dancer and as an improviser, I always loved that moment when you have time so in you, when you’ve been counting a little too much, almost you can stop counting. The beat – it’s inside. And you can be above it.”
I asked Raul, “You were usually speaking in time with another performer, Elisa. Did it help you to keep time with someone else?”
Raul: “It’s actually harder. If either of us jumped a page or a couple of paragraphs, I’d wonder, how do we get back? You have to silence yourself to get back.”
Erin: “And then did it have a lasting impression on you to have learned how to speak someone else’s voice?”
Raul: “Yes, I’ll be doing my own work and then suddenly my voice starts sounding different. You know, especially when I’m just performing in front of someone, it’s almost like it’s already in my head, and it wants to come out again.”
Ashley’s final, autobiographically-derived opera, Crash, debuted in the Whitney Biennial shortly after Robert Ashley died this year at 83. Three kinds of dialogue form the script: a catalog of each year of Ashley’s life, from age one until age eighty-four, each year journaled in a two or three sentence summary; a telephone conversation about researched superstitions, for example, a person’s height as it relates to success, or the female – ten, and male – fourteen, year life cycles; and finally, a melodic and detached retelling of a man’s collapsing spells in social settings, especially around people thought to be important.
At the time of Robert Ashley’s death, numerous memorial postings appeared on the internet featuring remembrances. One in particular brought to mind an image of Robert Ashley standing on the border of a crowd – composer Alvin Lucier wrote, “I remember standing with him at gatherings in the Midwest, simply listening to people talking. He once remarked that, to his ears, the dull roar of many people talking was symphonic.”
Based in New York, Erin Leland is an artist using photography, writing and video. She has recently exhibited in the group exhibition, White Petals Surround Your Yellow Heart at the ICA in Philadelphia and in her solo exhibition, Everything is Everything at Michael Strogoff Gallery in Marfa, Texas. A new series of photographs is included in the group show, Psychic Panic, in Pittsburgh, on view through June 29.
“I like the term project,” he remarked in 1969, “because it is never clear what exactly is meant by it…it covers lots of different things; it is more open and full of possibilities.” Seth Sieglaub (as quoted in Your Everyday Art World by Lane Relyea, 2013)
As I wrote in a previous guest post, artists who have passed have a marked presence in this year’s Whitney Biennial, which is more typically known as a survey for the living. Such is the case with curator Anthony Elms’ inclusion of Academy Records / Matt Hanner. Hanner (whose work was also included in the Dallas Biennial), a much loved member of Chicago’s art community, passed away unexpectedly in 2011, and so Elms asked Academy Records, led by Hanner’s close friend and frequent collaborator Stephen Lacy, to work with Hanner’s archive to develop a presentation demonstrative of the many connections between the late artist and Academy Records. Lacy dug into Hanner’s large trove of works, which includes “sound verite,” forms of mail art and ephemera, such as photographs and slides, among other works.
The Spectre, the resulting “cumulative work” on view at the Biennial, consists of a large black and white graphic wall drawing called The Spectre (the stars are falling) shown alongside Hanner’s recorded sound and print ephemera, and a neon sculpture called Tomorrow is still above you, hung precociously over the entrance to the gallery (which Lacy referred to as an “in addition to” a clever revelation of artistic / curatorial decision making). This gallery presentation is supplemented by The Bower, a 16mm film (screened over several days, not shown in the gallery) loop of blossoming cherry trees, set to the three-hour audio work No Jets, Hanner’s field recording of the flight path to Chicago’s O’Hare airport during the flight delay after the September 11, 2001 attacks. Academy Records has released the audio (compiled from four individual cds) as a vinyl record called No Jets, an artist’s multiple, with the sleeve artfully and curiously designed, complete with liner notes. The film’s cherry trees were filmed by Lacy outside the apartment where Hanner made the field recording. As Anthony Elms has written, this “system-specific” (a term coined by artist Stephen Prina)manner of working is typical for Academy Records. And as he wrote a number of years ago in the publication Cakewalk, “Asking Academy Records to do a project is like hiring a general contractor. A plan is in place; who shows up, how, and when is a bit of a surprise.”
Academy Records / Matt Hanner, “The Spectre,” 2014. Installation view of Academy Records’ “The Spectre (the stars are falling)” at the 2014 Whitney Biennial. Image courtesy the artist.
Academy Records / Matt Hanner, “The Spectre,” 2014, Whitney Biennial installation view with Matt Hanner’s various printed ephemera and neon sculpture “Tomorrow is still above you,” 2006. Image courtesy Academy Records and Erika V. Hanner.
Academy Records, Still from 16mm film “The Bower,” 2011-2014. Image courtesy Academy Records.
Academy Records / Matt Hanner, “The Spectre,” 2014, Installation view (detail) of Academy Records’ “The Spectre (the stars are falling)” and Academy Records’ released LP of Matt Hanner’s “No Jets” at the 2014 Whitney Biennial. Image courtesy the Whitney Museum of American Art.
Production photo of Academy Records’ LP release of Matt Hanner’s “No Jets.”
Platforms are distinguished by their looseness. Rather than bounded and fixed, they are traversable, permeable, and responsive, constituted by dialogue with an outside. Whatever profile of boundary they do possess is only the one their interfaces actively conjure. In this sense they can be considered performative; only through and within acts of coordination with peripherals and externalities does their existence as entities come into focus.
I recently read that an “installation exists somewhere between the exhibition and the making of art.” I suppose that’s as good of a definition as any. With this multi-faceted, dimensional work(s), Academy Records exploits that, with an added focus on labor and distribution, or “systems of delivery.” More than an installation, this work hovers between project and platform, because it serves, as Lacy suggested in our studio visit, “[as an] abstract layering of poetic imagery” that creates a sort of “thru-line” between “works so quiet you could miss them altogether.”
Needing to be experienced from within the gallery and the museum screening room to the record itself, The Spectre’s many pieces fit together like gestures; they are conceived and responsive “acts of coordination with peripherals and externalities” that cross time and space. It’s not didacticism, but a hidden logic, or mystery poetics that link elements, such as the wall drawing, which, as Lacy articulated, “falls away from the wall,” to the other works in the gallery as well as to those that are distributed in a different time and place. To borrow an odd and wonderful term coined by Lygia Clark to describe her own abstract drawings, the work is “empty-full”—while it allows me (the viewer) to go where I need to go, it is loaded with a host of possible meanings, as I feel the weight of the work move with me through the space and back out into the world.
Since learning of this Academy Records/Matt Hanner project, its images, ideas and implications have followed me closely. It has hovered over my psyche the past few days in New York as I scrambled (and failed) to see the biennial again in person, colliding with my own distant memories of my grandmother (an artist, now gone) and her small ranch home in the earth shaking, jet-laced shadows of O’Hare airport; scrambling with loud 24-hour news cycle headlines lamenting the just opened 9/11 Memorial Museum; and filtering through the blossoming trees in Central Park and back home in front of my house in Chicago.
The following images constitute a curatorial response or a personal context for the work of Academy Records / Matt Hanner. Some are considerations of death; others share similar attention to distribution and labor; others employ drawing, video, the vinyl record, audio, or the archive.
For me as well, it represents a moment in time—this response in images would be different if I did it tomorrow, or the next day, or if I had done it yesterday.
Zoe Leonard, “Strange Fruit,” detail (1992 – 1996); exhibited at Paula Cooper Gallery, Fall 1996, 67 orange and grapefruit skins, thread, buttons, zippers and wax
Stephen Prina, “The Way He Always Wanted It III,” 2009; exhibited at Friedrich Petzel Gallery, Spring 2009; 33 mm film transferred to DVD; 3 Panasonic PT-LB800 projectors, 2 M-Audio Bx5a speakers, 1 Kramer Audio splitter, 1 Pioneer Pro DVD V7400 player, Monster audio cable, Baltic birch plywood, carpet
Kate Morgan, “Passages” installation, 2014
Ben Vautier, “Living Sculpture,” 1962
Deborah Boardman, “Spring Text 26,” Gouache on Handmade Paper, 2012, 12″ x 20″
Julia Goodman, “Eleven Months Mourning: August 19, 2007 – July 14, 2008,” mixed media and handmade paper. Image courtesy the artist.
 Lane Relyea, Your Everyday Art World (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2013), 18.
 Ibid, 21
 Margina Pugliese, “A Medium in Evolution: A Critical History of Installations,” in Ephemeral Monuments: History and Conservation of Installation Art , ed. Barbara Ferriani and Marina Pugliese (Los Angeles: The Getty Installation Institute, 2009), 23.
Jessica Cochran is a writer and curator in Chicago
As thick as the phone book of the town I grew up in, the catalogue for the 2014 Whitney Biennial is a whopper, coming in at 419 pages. But seeing as how this year’s Biennial was an impressive three floors, the attendant corridors, stairwells, random outside spaces, and more than 100 artists, maybe it’s not so big after all. Like the Biennial itself, the body of the catalogue is dived into three sections, one for each of the three curators: Stuart Comer, Anthony Elms, and Michelle Grabner. Each of these sections contains a contextualizing essay by the respective curator. In an interesting formal note is that the three sections are printed on different paper, which has the effect of making each section literally feel distinct.
Evaluating a catalogue is difficult; the success depends on what the reader is looking for. As preparatory material for viewing the exhibition, the catalogue is perhaps most successful. I doubt I would have enjoyed the exhibition as much if I had not read all of the essays beforehand. These essays proved invaluable to my visit to the Whitney. I previewed the artwork and made notations about the works with which I wanted to spend a little time. This method is itself flawed, because we all know that seeing a work in person is a very different experience from looking at pictures, no matter how lovely. It also mostly rules out the element of surprise. But honestly, the Whitney Biennial is such a massive undertaking for me as a viewer; this seemed to be my only method of making sense of this large and incongruent collection of artworks.
As a thorough record of the exhibition, the catalogue also succeeds, which in this case is important because the Biennial is nearing its close. When I read a catalogue that is little more than reproductions of the art, with the wall text on the following page, I am disappointed. A person is lucky to view a show once, let alone twice, but a book is different. There’s no end to a textual exhibition. We can visit anytime we want. This is where the catalogue succeeds. The 2014 Biennial contains a substantial amount of performance, audio, and video work. These are notoriously hard to capture on the page. Stuart Comer’s section is rife with essaylettes on selected works. There are writings on the performance works, which is great because although I visited twice, I didn’t manage to coincide with a single performance. Although all of the curators included text-based work, it is most noticeable in Anthony Elms’ section. I missed much of this text during my visit. It was crowded. It was hard to see. Text takes a lot of time. At home with a book, I have all the time in the world.
As an accurate reflection of the 2014 Whitney Biennial, I am less sure of the success of the catalogue. In the introduction the authors state, “If there is any central point of cohesion, it may be the slipperiness of authorship that threads through each of our programs… In many ways, it has simply become inefficient to slow down and figure out who is responsible for a specific idea or action, opening up interesting areas of collaboration.” While the authors are describing the discrete works in the show, perhaps this whole idea might be applied to the Biennial itself; it is very slippery. But the catalogue is intentionally less so, with its Roman numeraled sections, and three different paper stocks, the catalogue makes clearer distinctions than the curators do. The final section is by Michelle Grabner is marked by the inclusion of numerous conversations between artists, including Dawoud Bey, Christopher Williams, Rochelle Feinstein, Gaylen Gerber, to name a few. While all this focus on process seems as if it should make this section feel more slippery, it does the opposite—it concretizes the final section of the book. Real people, real artists, talking to other real people. The overall effect is humanizing, and intimate, a feeling that was impossible experience at the show.
Ultimately, I recommend this catalogue for those who want a serious look at the 2014 Whitney Biennial. This is not a coffee table book, nor is it a casual exhibition catalogue that one can leave on their bedside, to casually flip though before dropping off to sleep. No, this is the kind of catalogue you need to read while sitting up, with a cup of coffee. You might want to take some notes. If you have reading glasses, you better get ‘em.
Guest video post made for Bad at Sports by John Neff
Steve Reinke is an artist and writer best known for his work in video. His work is in many collections including the Museum of Modern Art (New York), the Centre Pompidou (Paris) and the National Gallery (Ottawa), and has screened at many festivals including Sundance, Rotterdam, Oberhausen and the New York Video Festival. In 2006 he received the Bell Canada Video Award. A book of his scripts, “Everybody Loves Nothing,” was recently published by Coach House. He has also edited several books, most recently (with Chris Gehman) “The Sharpest Point: Animation at the End of Cinema.” Reinke’s video Rib Gets In The Way, 2014, which includes hand-drawn animations by Chicago artist Jessie Mott, is included in this year’s Whitney Biennial.