Editors’ Note: Liz Nielsen’s is the last post in our week-long series on Apartment Galleries in Chicago, all of which were originally written for Floor Length and Tux’s “Untitled Circus” event a few weeks ago. A number of essays on Chicago’s thriving domestic/apartment gallery art space scene were solicited from local writers/artists/curators involved in the running of such spaces, and we posted some of them here on Bad at Sports as a way to extend the discussion. I’ll be posting some summarizing thoughts on this series later on, along with links to where you can find a .pdf file containing additional essays on Chicago’s Apartment Galleries written for the Untitled Circus event. Please feel free to email us with your comments at email@example.com, or if you’d like to contact the folks at FLAT directly, you can email Erik at erik@ floorlengthandtux.com.
Guest Post by Liz Nielsen
A few thoughts
Erik Brown and Michael Thomas invited me to write down my thoughts regarding the recent spurt of apartment/domestic/project spaces in Chicago with the intent of pushing forth a few waves of constructive criticism that might consequently enable some of these spaces to re-calibrate their homegrown efforts. Now, I run my own space too, the Swimming Pool Project Space in Albany Park, and so I began by looking at my own reflection in the mirror and asking myself why I do what I do, and why I am where I am.
I am a Chicago artist. I have seen my reflection many times but this time I saw something, a stark reality, with more clarity than I had seen in the past.Â Louder than ever before I heard a resonating sentence echoing inside my head:Â If Chicagoâ€™s art scene is second or third tier then naturally it produces second or third tier artists.
But if Chicagoâ€™s art scene is second or third tier, does it follow that it would naturally produce second or third tier artists? I am better than that.Â I know that we are better than that.
So the question becomes: can Chicago raise the bar? Can it rise above the standards set by third tier expectations? Do we ourselves want honorable mentions, or gold medals? The artists who do make it into the top tier usually leave Chicago shortly before or immediately after their success starts to happen. So this leads me to wonder, if Chicago artists want to be gold medal-winners and recipients of national and international recognition, must we leave Chicago?
Iâ€™ve been running circles in my mind trying to figure out why we are where we are, and why we donâ€™t, apparently, have the means to get the gold.Â We obviously have the energy.Â The innumerable independent spaces are one indication of this.Â I have come up with several reasons but there is one that I continually spiral back to, and that is that Chicago has very few â€œparent galleriesâ€, relative to the number of artists. At risk of being cutesy, parent galleries are the commercial venues that give us artist children shelter, that help us with our homework, hang our work on the refrigerator, talk us up like crazy, send us to art camps/residencies, and above all help us grow into the artists that we are capable of becoming. As it stands, hundreds of art students are pumped out of our schools in Chicago every year â€” and these are great schools â€” only to be orphaned with nowhere to show, nowhere to go.
So we parent ourselves.
We build our own tree-houses and clubhouses in the backyard or in our living rooms.Â We start our own spaces and exhibit our own work. We share our own ideas and show our friends. But to a certain extent, the pragmatic facts of â€œbeing an orphanâ€ wear us down: the fact that the challenge of making work increases when weâ€™re also completely responsible for ourselves, for promoting our art, and paying the bills through other means. In the end, these tree-house projects, no matter how exciting and productive in certain instances, donâ€™t bring in much money, and donâ€™t get enough support from the city or its institutions, and eventually most of us run out of gas without even making it onto any sort of global art map. [Read more]
The New Issue of Rebus is out! For those of you who donâ€™t know but ought to, Rebus is an online journal of art history and theory organized and published by doctoral students out of the University of Essex, UK.Â Iâ€™ve been a fan of Rebus since I was first made aware of it last spring.Â I was struck by the straightforward agenda of sharing ideas. Which, under normal circumstances, are rarely read or disseminated much beyond their academic system.Â To a certain extent I think Rebus mediates the gaps between those dust-collecting hardbound dissertations lining the shelves of collegiate libraries next to the esoteric journals published within any field of study which a requisite level of specificity to necessitate doctoral study and the casual contemporary art writing consumer. Put another way, I dig the accessibility of this journal.Â So Rebus issue 4 is hot off the presses and is edited by Dr. Matthew Bowman and Dr. Stephen Moonie.Â Iâ€™ve been so very lucky, as Dr. Bowman agreed to my idea that he share some of his thoughts on the journal and on his specific interests within the scope of critical theory. I particularly enjoy his interest in time as an under investigated element in art history, theory and criticism, most probably to do with my own personal interest in mitigated meaning and ways of understanding experience. Check out the new issue
The following is a short, simple and earnest interview with Dr. Matthew Bowman.
JG– Would you share a bit about yourself for our lovely readers, for introductions?
Â MB-I originally completed my degree in fine art, but soon comprehended my preference was to write about art rather than produce my own. I wrote my MA dissertation on Marcel Duchampâ€™s Fountain, arguing that its processes of reproduction functioned as open-ended conditions of displacement which are immanently temporal, a manifestation of Duchampâ€™s fascination with â€œdelay.â€ My PhD research took a different tack, analyzing the October journal. I focused mostly upon the journalâ€™s early years (1976-1981), years which virtually transformed the face of art-critical discourse. Rather than give a straightforward historical account of October, however, I elected to argue that the journal in those years fundamentally reconfigures our comprehension of medium-specificity by pointing to the way artworks, especially after â€œthe crux of minimalism,â€ reinvent the medium. Of course, early October perceives itself as rejecting the question of medium-specificity as a modernist issue, but I contend there are resources within October that encourage us to reconsider what a medium is, and how it operates within an expanded field. I completed my dissertation October and the Expanded Field of Art and Criticism in 2008. At present Iâ€™m lecturing part-time in contextual studies at Colchester Institute, and working in the History of Art department as well as Arts on 5 at the University of Essex. Between these activities I co-edit Rebus: A Journal of Art History and Theory.
The New York Times has just posted the full list of participants for the 2010 Whitney Biennial. As you may recall, next year’s biennial will be curated by former BaS guest Francesco Bonami and Gary Carrion-Murayari. Congratulations to Julia Fish, Curtis Mann, Scott Short, Theaster Gates, and Jim Lutes who are the only five Chicago based artists to make the list.
For a full list of particpents please check out the New York Times article here.
Guest Post by Jennifer Breckner
Some Notes on Hosting
Brian Oâ€™Doherty, in his seminal 1976 book, Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space, takes the traditional gallery space to task, critiquing the manner in which its white walls became the de facto authority that conferred the status of art upon any object that resided within its space. Serving as a template, the white cube formatâ€”white walls, rectangular or square shape, wooden floors, and lit from the ceilingâ€”may be utilized anywhere and continues to be implemented widely, including in most of Chicagoâ€™s beloved apartment galleries.Â What are some tactics for moving beyond this model in these types of smaller domestic environments so that a more equitable space may be envisioned?
Presented as neutral but being far from it, the sanitized, white-walled space came into being during Modernism and quietly claimed more and more power over time so that eventually it became more important than the art that was displayed within.Â â€œWe have now reached a point where we see not the art but the space first,â€ asserts Oâ€™Doherty. Â The white-cube model continues to be the premier method for the display of art within institutions such as the formidable museum, blue chip commercial gallery, and even the not-for-profit â€œalternativeâ€ gallery.Â Its structure conveys knowledge and authority; it asks of the viewer a quiet, almost religious-like devotion.Â While it often is a useful background for artwork to be seen on, the white-walled gallery may also be a place of exclusion and judgment where privilege, breeding, economic status, educational background, and social cache allow various stages of access and exclusion. It is a space of contention, often leaving visitors in the precarious position of questioning their right to be there.
If this type of space is rife with anxiety and power, then shouldnâ€™t the apartment gallery be an antidote to this situation since the power within these spaces resides with individuals who have broader latitude and more autonomyâ€”because the stakes are not as high as the commercial gallery or museumâ€”to experiment with setup?Â Yet most Chicago apartment gallerists seem interested in perpetuating the white cube and all its inherent structure and exclusions, even if the directors are not consciously aware that they are doing this.Â In large part, the use of this modernist template is due to the fact that most apartment gallery owners are renting the space that they live in and serious changes to the infrastructure of their domestic space could have a negative effect on their lease. Or perhaps they do not see the gallery space as elitist and find it useful to follow the professional set-up.Â More importantly, though, the institutionalization of exhibition methods has infiltrated even the tiniest self-produced endeavor and carries such weight that many individuals see their apartment gallery as a calling card to gain entrance to the realm of more professional institutions.
There are many of these self-initiated exhibition venues that do away with the materials of everyday life and gravitate towards the white cube blueprint.Â An article on Chicagoâ€™s apartment galleries mentions an owner who was pleased that the exhibition part of her living space resembled a commercial venue and that all of the evidence of people living there had been removed out of sight. This kind of approach is a mistake for how can oneâ€™s living space compete with the likes of a commercial gallery?Â Instead of the domestic space striving to be more commercial and always falling short of the pristine effect and voice of authority that the museum or formal gallery embodies, the focus should be on finding inventive and innovative strategies of display that mingle art with living materials. [Read more]
Guest Post by Caroline Picard
On the matter of public (1) space : or my apartment gallery is an arctic explorer
â€œâ€˜Oh, you have a roommate?â€™
â€œ â€˜Yeah, sheâ€™s actually here right now, but sheâ€™s sick….Donâ€™t do thatâ€”sheâ€™s trying to sleep.â€™
â€œI heard them but pretended to remain asleep by keeping my eyes closed; [closing your eyes] is what passed for privacy then. My â€˜roomâ€™ was in a corner of the kitchen on the other side of a folding screen. If you were tall enough, you could see me from either side at any time. The above exchange took place during the installation of a show when I happened to have a cold. I lived at the Green Lantern from 9/06 to 8/07. Recently out of college, I moved to Chicago to get my bearings. I had just spent two years living in the French countryside with no heat, no car, no Internet, no noise, no zines, no sushi, no shows, no jargon. When I moved in, I had never owned a computer. Suddenly I was in the middle of an art scene. [Read more]