Your guide to partying for a good cause this Spring.
Nothing says Spring like “Gala,” WTT? couldn’t be more excited to see the ice finally THAW. Speaking of, have you bought tickets for the Links Halls annual spring fling? It’s on April 4th, and really more like a three-storey drunk performance art odyssey than a party. Last year I got an sickening sparkly free mani from Aiden Simon at the Girl Don’t be Dumb salon, went inside of a space photo booth, saw Hope Esser ice skate on soap and watched more burlesque than I’d like to admit. For performance art, it’s not too weird, it’s really fun and it’s not that expensive for how open the bar is, what more could you ask from a Thursday night? And the inclusion of DJ CQQCHIFruit and La Spacer this year? Too much.
Enough gushing. Clearly, this benefit season is going to be huge, but don’t worry, WTT?s got you. Here are some notes on the best auctions and charity bashes around, in my not-so humble opinion. Can not wait to see what everyone looks like without a coat on!
Spotted: Todd King getting his feet did at THAW in 2013. Andrew Mausert-Mooney does his best Jesus in the front.
LVL3’s annual benefit auction is known to bring great names at reasonable prices with all works starting at $30. Past years auctions have featured Jon Rafman and Israel Lund amongst others. This years is no exception. We also love the LVL3 auction because the raffle prizes are copious and always awesome and it doesn’t hurt that each year the event benefits local non-profit, Arts of Life. Learn more about the auction and the organization here on the LVL3 website. Full disclosure: I take no prisoners on the auction floor. The event takes place on March 29th from 6 to 10PM at 1542 N. Milwaukee Ave. Last bid is accepted at 9:30PM so be on time!
Summer Forum : Hosted by TUSK
Sandwiched comfortably in-between the LVL3 and R&C auction is the Summer Forum fundraiser and art auction at everyones favorite bite-sized boutique, TUSK. There are quite a few repeats from both LVL3 and the R&C auction, though it doesn’t look like anyone got the hat trick. E-Dogz will be on hand, serving some serious benefit crossover and unlimited food with the purchase of a ticket ($25 presale or $35 ATD). Advance online bidding begins March 31, and the IRL event starts at 7pm on Saturday, April 5th at TUSK, 3205 W. Armitage Ave.
Roots & Culture 8th Annual Spring Gala
You don’t have to be Hamza Walker to know that Roots & Culture’s Eric May throws some of the best events in Chicago. Did someone say sangria and tapas? The lineup for the auction is pretty impressive too. Britton Bertran wasn’t kidding when he called the night’s auction list an Who’s Who. The List features some of my favorite Chicago art luminaries and at least one Whitney Biennial-er.
oh shit! – @RootsandCulture announced their auction fundraiser for May 3 (always a Chicago's Artist Who's Who aka The List)
Iâ€™d tell you who I’m excited about seeing at the auction, but I want the art all for myself! Find out yourself, the auction takes place May 3, from 7-11PM at 1034 N. Milwaukee Ave.
Spring benefit season is bookended by major heavy hitters with Threewalls rounding out the season. Another reliably good time, this year’s gala is being held in the spacious digs down south at Mana Contemporary. The full lineup hasnâ€™t been revealed but, I’m jazzed on the news that DJ Earl (who you might have read about in the last edition of the T) will be there. The details might still be a little fuzzy but you can already buy tickets on their site. Looking forward to finding out what a Gunnatowski â€œwearableâ€ looks like.
FLASHBACK! Trending artist Jesse Malmed (right) with Trunk Show co-director, Raven Munsell (left) and artist Jason Lazarus (center) at Salvage One last year for Threewalls Spring Gala.
The Weatherman Report
For Chicago IL
Charles Ephraim Burchfield, Early Spring, 1917, Watercolor and graphite on paper, 21 Ã— 28 1/4 inches. James Goodman Gallery.
Bad at Sports finally trending.
What’s the TRENDING?
The Equinox is Totes Normcore
Pillows: After being relegated to cameos in the backgrounds of painting and photographic portraits for centuries, pillows are finally stepping out on their own. Last week during the Whitney Biennial/ New Yawk City hullabaloo the internet was plastered with images of the biennial and various fairs, but nothing stood out more than the freaky pillows of Bjarne Melgaard at the #WhiBi. With the help of NY based artist and collaborator Amanda Browder, Bad at Spots finally reached the cutting edge with their Volta bed-in installation and recording booth. As if the original Richard and Duncan aren’t creepy enough on their own, Browder created life-size pillow versions for the Volta booth. Good work, team!
Detail of Norwegian American artist Bjarne Melgaard’s cracked out living room installation. Image by Hyperallergic.
Browder with pillows only a mother could love.
Jesse Malmed: Usually it’s difficult for individual artists to be in enough places at once to qualify as a trend, by that’s no problem for trending artist, Malmed. The co-director of Trunk Show and UIC grad student must not sleep. This past weekend Malmed did double duty at the MCA, as one of The Nightingale programmers on Friday night and then again on Saturday for his own presentation of selections from The Body Electronic: What Television Taught Me about Art, a live televisual lecture performance. Trunk Show also hosted an opening/ 5-act play by artist Brandon Alvendia outside the Multiples fair on Sunday and whatever HALLWALLS2 is had an opening on Monday afternoon. And that’s just over four consecutive days. If you’re interested in getting in on the Malmed Madness, and you clearly should be, the artists’ MFA show at UIC is opening on April 18th. If you feel like waking with the sun tomorrow, he’s also hosting a dawn equinox performance, more info here.
Butter Projects Announcement image for From Here to There: Ear to Ear
The Whitney Biennial screams. The Armory Show screams. SXSW screams. Most music festivals and art exhibitions in March will scream, elated that winter is finally over, the snow is mostly gone and we can return outdoors, see other humans before we try to escape from them again on summer vacations. To be screamed at by art and be awoken by the grandiose, and the faux political, the happy accident, the cronyism, the speculation, the over-hyped and the up-and-coming, the truly amazing and the market saturated garbage that is always in those blockbuster screamo shows seems to be an annual rite. We tend not to whisper â€œspring is hereâ€, especially after this past winter, but isnâ€™t that a better way to get bears out of hibernation? Butter Projectsâ€™ Spring exhibition, Here to There: Ear to EarÂ aimed to do just that: a colorful and elated return to Spring, but provoking joy rather than record breaking auction sales or trying to define contemporary art through a show. I was being whispered to and they were sweet nothings, dreamy musings by artists who were ushering in Spring by reveling in the ecstatic moment of creation, and not the art world slime that oozes out of the dealers and sharks that are trying to find the next big thing to exploit and bleed dry at the ripe age of 36. If there was a slime umbrella, if somehow an artist could show in an established gallery, free of slime, free of ooze, of political and classist vitriol, of fur coat envy and ever tightening faces, diamonds, couture, of speculative assumptions and net worth, my guess is it would be here. Art can still exist in the white cube and maintain purity, at least it better, or we should just stop and chase a career in investment banking.
Jill Galarneau The Wind Has Its Reasons, paper acrylic, gouache, pencil, ink, pins, 2014
Jill Galarneauâ€™s The Wind Has its ReasonsÂ and SwimsuitÂ explore color and pattern within abstract and geometric shapes, evoking a combination of purpose and play. The former exists as small patterned paper pinned to the wall, in strips and shapes, woven together by steady pencil lines arcing gracefully like a kite tail in the wind. A 1950â€™s esque explosion of martini tinged advertising referencing the innocence (or ignorance) of the atomic age and the power of the bomb are held captive by tiny steel pins. The frenzy is contrasted by Swimsuit, which is positioned within the confines of a frame, and as such, in a much tighter condensed field. Here the possible explosion is contained as the particles build pressure in the frame, overlapping to create new shapes and waiting for a flash point. They collide together and flow over each other as tectonic plates might, segments of animated snakes in Sega games. Both invite the viewer to enjoy the materials and process in the works. While the artist retains the flatness of the paper, she also retains its lightness and delicacy, allowing the viewer to linger with the works, our eyes fluttering around the compositions, caffeinating us.
Katy Lloyd, Untitled (Marge), polymer clay, acrylic, wool, glitter and air dry clay, 2014
Katy Lloydâ€™s art sits in a delicate state between image and object: in direct relation to the wall, either hanging from it on leaning against it, occupying the space in a non assertive way, as they prefer the corners, walls and floor, denying viewing in the round. Their bright colors are sometimes more apparent than their forms, the latter being thin, amorphous, flattened or deflated, yet the colors pop and swell, bleed and vibrate. They take control and often define the form of the objects. Contours in Untitled (spaghetti legs) are achieved by minimal shaping of the paper, so that the creases are quite noticeable as points of being in the object as opposed to material stress. With Untitled (Marge), wool â€œhairâ€ is wrapped around a few acrylic rods to evoke the cartoon namesakeâ€™s iconic doo, a body is exchanged for tripod legs covered in both pastel polymer and air dry clay smooshed on, clenching the legs, the whole thing straddling a pile of glitter poop on the ground. Leaning against the wall with her red clay tip of her head, she is aloof, yet radiating positivity and sympathy. Being the light of the party all the time can be draining, like there is strength in weakness. Across from her is Untitled (hey buddy)(string guy)), a jumble of acrylic sheeting the artist painted and cut into strips, hangs out from a plastic loop in the wall evoking the impossible to solve tangle of Easter basket grass, in a sexy wet ramen noodle heap pouring forth, lingering on the floor in a fashionable plaid of pinks and yellows and orange that points to a stump of clay coyly hiding under and holding up the edge of the wall the work is on. Across from each other, they appear as figures in conversation, or looking for a way out of one.
Jonathan Rajewski, Untitled Â (installation view – 5 works), mixed media on rubber, upholstery fabric, linen, sewn leather and fabric, 2013 – 2014
Jonathan Rajewskiâ€™s abstract paintings (all Untitled) are much darker than Llyodâ€™s and Galarneauâ€™s works. Using gunpowder, caulk, and concrete on surfaces such as leather and rubber, the application is often thick, crusty and textured. They seem heavier with their sometimes murky colors, yet there is still a true play and discovery in the works through line and material. They become free flowing, less attached to solid compositions, giving them a certain lightness of being. Two smaller panels on the wall exhibit the most control within a sprawling composition of washed out colors and meandering line. The rest of his paintings lean against one another in a stack that is meant to be freely flipped through by the audience. Forgetting that interactive directives like this are almost always problematic in their execution, especially since there is no written indication anywhere that this is the artistâ€™s intention (I lucked out by being told by one of the exhibiting artists) the true beauty of the works were revealed one by one as I discovered surfaces and textures both unexpected and lavish. Each painting got better and better, so the fear of dropping one didnâ€™t hold up to the desire to keep going, digging deeper into the pile.
Here to There: Ear to Ear celebrates the ephemeral by means of a lifespan; the works sitting in the complacent knowledge that they may become as out of touch as a Renoir tomorrow, and thats OK, you here now and that is all we have anyway. Often at openings, the art is seemingly in the background setting the scene, bringing people together. Sometimes its just about the scene. Always alone while together, in ones own head and space while amongst others. When art touches us on this level, it succeeds. It doesnâ€™t always have to scream to do this: it can lean its head against the wall and pretend its not listening, or hide itself in plain sight waiting for private discovery — a one on one conversation. The art seems to exist with the true joy and terror of being in the company of others, or the moment of waking up when two realities collide, one ending in death to acknowledge the otherâ€™s eventual death. Knowing this, yet taking that deep inhale, and existing permanently in the moment before the forced bodily exhale.
Here to There: Ear to Ear Opening Night, Butter Projects, March 14, 2014
Here to There: Ear to Ear opened Friday, March 14, 2014 with an opening reception from 7-10pm. The exhibition runs through April 18, 2014. Free and open to the public.
During the run of the exhibition, Butter Projects will hold open hours Friday from 1-5pm and Saturdays from 1-3pm. Additional hours can be made by appointment, to schedule, email email@example.com
About Butter Projects
BUTTER projects is a studio and exhibition space founded in October of 2009. Housed in a storefront built in 1915, the space was conceived to be flexible and open to a multitude of creative endeavors. Our mission is to engage with the community and participate in the promotion of the arts in the Metro-Detroit area by providing a place to make, discuss and exhibit artwork. Butter Projects is run and operated by Alison Wong and John Charnota
Butter is located at 814 West Eleven Mile Road, in Royal Oak, Michigan. Parking is available behind the building. For more information visit www.butterprojects.info or contact firstname.lastname@example.org
Jill Galarneau http://jillgalarneau.com/Â lives in Brooklyn and received an MFA in Painting from Cranbrook Academy of Art in 2006.
Caroline Picard: What were you anticipating the affect of injecting horse plasma into your blood steam would be? How did you expectations measure up with the reality of your experience?
Marion Laval-Jeantet: In a certain way, I knew what to expect from the injection of the horse plasma since I had received injections of the horse antibodies one at a time during the preceding months.Â But it was still difficult to imagine what the effect of receiving all the antibodies at once would be. In actuality, my bodyâ€™s reaction was much more unruly than predicted.Â I think the families of antibodies increased each otherâ€™s effects, so that the final reaction was very complex, affecting even my metabolism, my endocrine glands, my nervous system, as well as my sleep and appetite.
CP: Also, did you use the blood of one specific horse? Did your relationship with that horse change at all?
MLJ: I used the blood of three specific horses that belong to the laboratory I worked with.Â You couldnâ€™t say I established genuine contact with the horses.Â On the other hand, I wasnâ€™t specifically familiar with the horses before the experiment. The experiment changed my psyche so that I saw the horses differently after it, with a different appreciation. A familiarity.
CP: Can you talk a little bit about your horse-stilts? How did your experience of your own body change?
MJL: The stilts were mostly there to allow me a different way of communicating with the horse who was present during the performance. I was a little afraid of horses, actually. And it seems like horses attitudes change completely when your eyes are at the same height as theirs. With the stilts, my eyes were the same height as his, and I could see that the horse was calmer. It was also a way for me to be aware of the reversal of roles between me and the animal. And naturally, it was a way to distract myself from the possible anxiety that might arise because of the infusion. Because I was on stilts, I could only think of the goal: to join with the animal, and not of the psychological problems that might come out during the performance.Â Experiments with prosthetics always affect your fears about your body, and in the performance it was necessary that I have a strong sense of a double transformation,Â mental and biological.
CP: Do you feel like your “self” has been forever altered? In other words, there is an idea I believe I, at least, take for granted: that is that my self is continuous and sustaining throughout a linear experience of time. This assumption is challenged by ideas of drastic plastic surgery, transplants and cloning, for instance–the self as it was defined before is fundamentally no longer the same self it was before. It seems to me your work poses similar a question: how can a distinctly human self sustain its identity when it has become, also, part horse?
MJL: Your question about fundamental change is completely fair. At the moment, I have a very strong sense that my body, and also my identity were deeply changed by the experience.Â In a physical sense, itâ€™s true.Â I will always have within me biological markers that bear witness to my meeting with the horse. The problem is that the external physiological effects seem to have only lasted a few months, and were strongest in the first four weeks. So today, even if there are some delayed reactions or long-term consequences, I can say that the transformation remains more in the mental structure than in the physical one.Â I have the sense of not having been completely human for some time. The experience changed my inner self forever. But this is also the case with previous strong experiences Iâ€™ve had, like my introduction to the pygmies of Gabon. Who made me see death.Â Each of these experiences makes my thoughts and my existence more complex, the more they change them. I believe deeply in the adaptation of the human body. More than in homeostasis. Existence itself is a permanent transformation, a constantly-evolving system. You speak of changes made to the body, but I think grief, for example, shakes up identity much more. My aim is not so much a transformation of my essence, as the wish to respond to an eternal frustration: to finally feel the animal otherness in myself, but also to stop thinking from a purely anthropocentric point of view. Already, the pygmies succeeding in making me feel the spirits in the forest, during a trance. I think that I am less and less purely human, which is to say that I am fundamentally more and more human, in the utopian sense of philosophical humanism.
Winter is not yet over, but I have already felt the urge to start spring cleaning. I want to air out the bedroom and beat the rugs, to scrub the floors and clear the clutter hidden behind the heaviest winter clothes in the back of the closet and the last summery jars of canned vegetables in the far reaches of the pantry. My house is heavy with things, and I am ready to clear them out. I am ready for objects that play multiple roles, that open the doors to new thoughts, new worlds, new seasons.
EVEN IF IT KILLS YOU by Bryan Thomas Daly at White Page Gallery is an attempt to move away from the “library of Alexandria” he had amassed around himself, a purposely object-full attempt to transcend the physicality of the collections that maintain our place in consumer society while reinforcing the belief in our individuality. The modified vinyl and record covers revel in their identity as objects that contain the depths of content we know exist in their grooves. Daly levels their value, eliminating their use through his playful, spirited modifications. The work was made as part of a residency in the gallery, and it is in conversation with the objects that fill the corners, hallways, and studio spaces in the other half of White Page Gallery. The finished and in progress pieces, the raw materials, the tools, the giant, decades-old, fire hazard of a boiler all bear witness to the diverse studio practices, the collective experience of working and making decisions together. They are a testament to exploration and the opening of horizons.
Objects were also at the forefront of the first Sound.Art.MIA event at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. Paul Metzger‘s sublime performance was mesmerizing. His 23-string banjo was inescapable as the visual locus of his plucking, strumming, bowing. Similarly, the Body/Head performance was centered around their guitars as objects, as unfamiliar extensions of their body to be explored by pushing, pulling, swinging, and hefting them through waves of feedback and mountains of sound. The video projected behind them distracted from their performance, pulling attention away from the objects they lovingly cradled, stroked, and manhandled. The night culminated in minutes of Kim Gordon exploring the crackling, scratching soundscape of the length of her output jack, flooding the room with the slightest adjustments of the very place her body flowed out into the rest of the room.
The recent few days of thaw have transformed the monochrome snowscape into the grey rainbows of exhaust-filled slush and ice. The receding snow reveals more than the objects hidden beneath it. It reveals the forgotten body of the city that surrounds us. It unleashes the vast symphony of drips and rushing torrents that arise from the barely visible stormdrains, and it opens windows onto the vast water system that has silently been working beneath our feet throughout the winter. It embues the objects that surround us, that care for us, with a new life, an unfolding wonder that will continue to expand as the weather warms and as I make more room for it in my less cluttered house.
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