This week: Artist, founding member of Area Chicago, singer Daniel Tucker.
Also, after the show Duncan tries his hand at announcing top 40 radio.
The question of what social practice art actually is, who is defining its parameters and to what end, is a hot mess. Since the 1990s, a number of mostly European and North American art critics and historians have struggled to understand a notoriously chaotic set of practices, under an ever changing set of names including new genre public art, socially-engaged practice, relational art, dialogical aesthetics, etc. While I have no interest in throwing my hat in the art historical ring on that one (and I think the folks over at 127prince.org are doing a good job on talking through the issues), I admit that I like the identity crisis that social practice art is always wrestling with. It’s rapidly becoming professionalized through MFA programs, like California College of Arts, Otis College of Art, and PSU. Yet it also heralds a kind of everyday creativity and social connectivity that is supposedly available to anyone with or without an art degree.
I’ve thought about this with my collaborators at InCUBATE over the last couple years and we’ve participated in a lot of conversations where people tear their hair out trying to figure out where social practice begins and ends. Defining the actual parameters of “social practice art” seems to be a red herring. Sometimes a dinner party should just be a dinner party, sometimes calling a dinner party an art project makes it a richer experience for the individuals participating. Social practice art doesn’t necessarily create more democratic exchange between art and audiences, often times it creates hierarchical distinctions between artists in art school and ordinary people with creative hobbies and interests that don’t have anything to do with an art career. But while it continues to be problematic territory, the larger anxiety it brings up is pretty interesting. How are artists defining the communities their work operates in, especially when traditional contexts such as commercial galleries, museums, and non-profits aren’t the intended landing pad? If one’s work is about engaging publics supposedly outside the artworld and eschewing art-speak when it comes to creative expression, who cares if it’s called art other than social practice artists? The issue then becomes not how to judge social practice within the confines of other art disciplines, but rather how the value of that work is being defined and by who. If social practice offers us anything, it openly asks not what kind of artist one wants to be but what kind of person one wants to be and how one wants their work to operate in the world.
Thinking back to that conference too, I felt a sense of camaraderie from the Chicago contingent (people like Hideous Beast, Sara Black and John Preus, Anne Elizabeth Moore, Shannon Stratton, Randall Szott, and more), something like a mixture of healthy skepticism and a sense that yes, we’ve also been thinking about this for a while now too and let’s get into it. I’ve long been inspired by groups and spaces in Chicago who have taken the art/social-engagement approach (Temporary Services, Mess Hall, Haha, Department of Space and Land Reclamation, Pilot TV, FEELTANK, Experimental Station, AREA Chicago, the Stockyard Institute, just to name a few) and maybe those people would really not like to be lumped into the “social practice” conversation. But to me, their work asks the essential questions about the social and political ramifications of participating in the artworld.
So I hope these Bad at Sports posts on the “social practice scene in Chicago and beyond” somehow incorporate that Chicago attitude that I’m struggling to articulate. I’m going to be doing interviews with Chicagoans and artists from elsewhere, asking them what they think about the audience for their work. For this first post, I interviewed artist, activist and writer Ashley Hunt. I first encountered his work as part of his collaborative project (with David Thorne, Katya Sander, Sharon Hayes & Andrew Geyer), 9 Scripts from a Nation at War at documenta 12 in 2007, a piece which cut directly through the curatorial excess of that sprawling exhibition. Since then I’ve followed his writing in the Journal of Aesthetics and Protest, An Atlas of Radical Cartography and other places. When he told me he was touring his project Notes on the Emptying of a City, a performance/film about post-Katrina New Orleans, I asked him to do a performance at threewalls, where I work as Program Director.
AH: I think we often get caught up in defining our endeavors according to the institutions and audiences we’re expected to speak to. I’m interested in a more fluid relationship to our institutions and disciplines — be they art, activist, educational, etc — while recognizing the tool sets, vocabulary, capacities and possibilities, positions for speaking and listening that each discipline and institution might provide. There are not particular things that I wish “I Won’t Drown” could have done differently, as it was made within the urgencies of that moment, and it needed to be accountable to those specificities.
For me, this was not a time for critical distance and a good, reflective discussion about aesthetics, history, architecture and race. It was a time for contributing my energies and skills toward the efforts to get people released from jail, for locating family members and protesting the use of “looting” as a pretext to further criminalize and round up storm survivors. It was a time to privilege the voices of people more directly affected by the hurricane, rather than speak to my own experience.
At the same time, a great deal of critical reflection on the politics of aesthetics, witnessing, history, speech, architecture and (especially) race were really eating away at me. “I Won’t Drown” needed to be something that could not offer a terribly rich space for that thinking, nor should it have tried to bring people into a more contemplative relationship to the events. But once “I Won’t Drown” was completed and began to move out into the world, doing what it could do, it did become possible to think and work a bit differently. This allowed me to begin the political work that is rooted in reflection and critical understanding of the world, which I think needs to accompany the political work that is rooted in action.
One might say that this traces a certain relationship between theory and practice — practice was what I was initially compelled in to, but each practice is always constricted by the theories that, at the same time, have enabled it. Theory supplies the vision and describes a possible field for action; yet as each vision or theoretical construct has its limits, so will the practices they inspire; whereas similarly, experimental practices make new theories possible.
For me, “Notes on the Emptying of a City” is a much more theoretical piece, where rather than issue demands and arouse action, I hope for it to act upon our political imagination, from which new possibilities of action might emerge. This is to say that I want it to open a publicly theoretical space for its audiences, one in which some of the most difficult questions of Hurricane Katrina — especially the alienation of its issues from other issues and other histories, the forgetting that surrounds it, and the racialized assumptions built into its narratives — can be taken up critically, and where people who are not only activists (or at least don’t see themselves as such) can participate in the conversation.
AH: What is important to me is to build an audience that is not restricted to the audiences called together by one particular kind of institution or another. In addition to the more official art spaces that you mentioned, I’ve also brought the piece to a prison in upstate New York, to a very public venue in San Juan, a public university a mile from the U.S.–Mexico border, and the debut of the piece was situated at Project Row Houses in Houston, which, while an excellent art institution with an art world presence, also has a deep rooted community profile, with involvement and accountability like no other art organization I know.
Once one gains the possibility of working within art world institutions, one can also push them to mobilize their resources in ways that are accountable to ideas, subjects, communities and actions that are not necessarily ‘of’ the art world already. One can use their position to suggest that these institutions demonstrate a responsibility to communities and value systems beyond the art world, and I believe that I hold a responsibility to help do this wherever I can — which also includes trying to make events free and open to a wider public.
It should also be noted that there are a lot of really good people working in art institutions who do very important work, and more still who would like to do more radical programming but are under a great deal of pressure to sell things and build spectacle. So when I find a curator or programmer who’s willing to take up a more political project, one based upon social rather than economic or market values, I really appreciate that and see it as a form of solidarity. It can be a great chance to help that institution expand its audience to communities who will then place different demands upon the institution, perhaps helping to build a slow turn toward socially-based definitions of art rather than market-based definitions.
The value that I’ve placed upon prioritizing, cultivating and archiving the conversations that have followed the piece from place to place comes in part from my desire to trespass the boundaries that separate different kinds of institutions, but also looking to how the meanings of the piece shift as it is situated within one cultural context versus another. This process intends to provide a space after the performance where the private resonances that have built up for viewers can be brought into a public conversation with other members of that audience, or what I think of as a temporary public, while also becoming a part of a record that follows the life of the piece.
The most stunning thing to me has been the different references — historical, political, in local memory and so forth — that the piece conjures, and the forms of knowledge about the world that these stories of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans can suture together. So far, this has included border issues, colonialism, histories of slavery and state violence, the ghettoization of cities throughout the US and the larger world, and most recently, the political changes in Tunisia, Egypt, and Bahrain, and their relationship to the new labor movement forming right now in the capitol of Wisconsin. Even though these seem like geographically and historically distinct issues, our conversations have allowed us to draw important connections between them, tracing out how they may actually be continuous.
November 29, 2010 · Print This Article
AREA Chicago is having a fundraiser on December 4th – that means this coming SATURDAY and they need you to come party with them to help support their organization, ‘grassroots-style’! All the necessary info and links can be found below; be there or be a four-sided regular polygon!
4th Annual Wants & Needs Auction to benefit AREA Chicago
come party & support AREA Chicago and help us fund future projects, grassroots style!
December 4, 8:00pm – 12:00am
Roots and Culture Gallery, 1034 N Milwaukee — an accessible space
$10 suggested donation
At 9:30 p.m. there will be a live Wants and Needs Auction of Skills, Resources, and Adventures donated by AREA friends, contributors and advisers. Bids for the Auction will start as low as $10. We can accept cash, check or credit card on site. Proceeds from AREA’s Wants and Needs Party will benefit the Spring 2011 issue of AREA on Im/Migration, Issue #11, as well as ongoing mapping and print projects.
Cost of admission gets you one complimentary drink. Items up for bid include: A group acupuncture session followed by a delicious homecooked Indian meal, a custom portrait on black velvet of the revolutionary educator of your choice, dinner with Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn, Four hours on the Chicago River with the Fantastic AquaCat and much more ranging from the practical to the extravagant.
DJs and dancing to follow.
If you know you cannot make it and would still like to donate,
AREA Chicago supports the work of people and organizations building a socially just city. AREA actively gathers, produces, and shares knowledge about local culture and politics. Its newspaper, website, and events create relationships and sustain community through art, research, education, and activism.
1. Pamela Fraser at Golden Gallery
Golden Gallery, generally a crowd pleaser, is putting up another strong show. This round it consists of works on paper by artist Pamela Fraser. The works (from what I could find and discern) are all abstract, hyper-color pieces. Is “eye candy” a bad word in the art world?
Golden Gallery is located at 816 W. Newport Ave. Opening reception is Friday from 6-9pm.
2. Alumni at David Weinberg Gallery
I went to SAIC for grad school, but I don’t believe that gives me a complete bias for SAIC grad work. However, when I see good work from my fellow alums, I got to give it a shout. David Weinburg is putting on an exhibition of “recent” SAIC grad work, including that of Amy Mayfiled, Noelle Allen, Helen Maurene Cooper, & Michael Ratulowski. If you haven’t seen their work yet (which, if you’ve been in Chicago a while, is unlikely) make sure you stop by. If you already know their work, head over for a refresher on why they’re awesome.
David Weinberg Gallery is located at 300 W. Superior St. Opening reception is Friday from 5-8pm. Read more
September 9, 2009 · Print This Article
Since 2005, AREA Chicago has been involved in researching and mapping Chicago’s alternative cultural landscape with a focus on grassroots activism and collective practices. Started by Daniel Tucker and comprising an ever-shifting body of people devoted to putting out a bi-annual magazine and an ongoing series of lectures, discussions, educational and activist events, AREA is a publication, a networking resource, a culture hub and a rhizomatic and centerless “community center” all rolled into one. AREA, whose latest issue deals with money and its affects on our work and lives, is having some money issues of its own. A few days ago they sent this message to members of their Facebook Group asking for small donations to help publish their Fall issue:
AREA needs YOUR help
On Labor Day 2005, AREA released our 1st issue. Since that time we’ve published 8 amazing issues of AREA and organized dozens of events and exhibitions throughout the city. No doubt if you are getting this note you’ve picked up an issue of AREA, written an article, or been to an event, so you know that we are highlighting voices and exploring issues that don’t normally get a lot of coverage in Chicago.
We are working hard to release our 9th issue this fall and need a push from our community. Each issue of AREA costs at least $5,000 to edit, design, and print. In addition to that, we raise money to pay rent on our office, and to organize public events and programs, mostly from small, grassroots donors like you!
If everyone who has written an article for AREA over the years kicked in just $20, we could pay for the whole issue! How much is a thoughtful, in depth, and original investigation of the arts, history, and politics of your city worth to you?
Donate to AREA by clicking here.
If you’re not already familiar with the work that AREA is involved in, spend some time clicking around their website — there’s quite a lot of archival and other material available to readers online. One of AREA’s most popular and well-known projects has been the People’s Atlas of Chicago, a collective exercise in subjective cartography; also check out 5 Questions about Art, in which Chicago-area artists are queried on the relationship between their art and social practice. Previous issues of AREA magazine are available in full on the website archives; issues are organized around themes and have included topics devoted to Justice; How We Learn, Privatization and Local Food Systems, among others.
If you like what you see, consider kicking in a few bucks to help these good guys keep on keeping on. You can donate to AREA here.