Bad at Sports » Floor length and tux

Top 5 Weekend Picks (12/9-12/11)

stephanieburke — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 19:20:02 +0000

1. Stalemate at Roxaboxen Exhibitions

Work by Christopher Meerdo.

Roxaboxen Exhibitions, 2130 W. 21st. Reception Sunday, 7-10pm.

2. Decompositions at Happy Collaborationists Exhibition Space

Work by Emily Green.

Happy Collaborationists Exhibition Space, 1254 N Noble. Reception Saturday, 6-10pm.

3. FLAT 11 at Floor Length and Tux

Work by Chuck Jones, Danielle Paz, Frank Pollard, Catie Olson, and EC Brown.

Floor Length and Tux, 2332 W. Augusta #3. Reception Saturday, 7-10pm.

4. Handler at Western Exhibitions

Work by Tyson Reeder, Scott Reeder, Jose Lerma, Greg Klassen, Michelle Grabner, Richard Galling, Peter Barrickman, and Nicholas Frank.

Western Exhibitions, 119 N. Peoria St. Reception Friday (today), 5-8pm.

5. Dark Corner at EC Gallery

Work by Justyna Adamcyzk and Aleksandra Urban.

EC Gallery, 215 N. Aberdeen St. Reception Friday (today), 6-8pm.

Top 6 Weekend Picks! (9/16-9/18)

stephanieburke — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 19:05:59 +0000

1. UPLIFT at Believe Inn

Work by work by Anthony Lewellen, Beth Pearlman, Chris Silva, Doug Fogelson, Eric Mecum, Jourdon Gullett, Justus Roe, Kim Frieders Tibbetts, Lauren Feece, Liza Berkoff, Matthew Hoffman, Renee Robbins, Robert Stevenson, Ruben Aguirre, and Tom Torluemke

Believe Inn is located at 2043 N Winchester Ave. Reception is Friday from 7-10pm.

2. “Just Breathe Normally” at Autumn Space

Work by Brian Hubble

Autumn Space is located at 1700 W Irving Park Rd. Reception is Saturday from 6-9pm.

3. FLAT 10 (FBI 3) at Floor Length and Tux

Work by Edra Soto, Jon Bollo, Liz Nielsen, Erik Wenzel, Catie Olson, and EC Brown

Floor Length and Tux is located at 2332 W. Augusta #3. Reception is Saturday from 7-10pm.

4. CLUB HELTER SKELTER at Manifest Exhibitions

Work by Stephen Collier

Manifest Exhibitions is located at 2950 N Allen Ave. Reception is Friday from 7-10pm.

5. Combinations Described at Donald Young Gallery

Work by Bruce Nauman

Donald Young Gallery is located at 224 S. Michigan Ave., suite 266. Reception is Friday from 5-7pm.

6. Nomadic Text at What It Is

Curated by Jessica Cochran and Mia Ruyter, with work by Joseph Grigely, Mark Booth, Alex Valentine, Karen Reimer, Jason Pickleman, Stephanie Brooks, Steven Miglio, Robert Ransick, Rachel Foster and Rebecca Foster.

What It Is is located at 1155 Lyman, Oak Park. Reception is Sunday from 3-8pm.

Top 5 Weekend Picks! (5/20-5/22)

stephanieburke — Thu, 19 May 2011 11:00:30 +0000

1. FLAT 9 at Floor Length and Tux

Work by Kristen Romaniszak, Brandon Heuser, Catie Olson and EC Brown.

Floor Length and Tux is located at 2332 W Augusta Blvd, 3F. Reception Saturday from 7-10pm.

2. Empire at Andrew Rafacz Gallery

Work by Greg Stimac.

Andrew Rafacz Gallery is located at 835 W. Washington Blvd. Reception Saturday from 4-7pm.

3. Ceaseless Blooms in Jobless Colors at Johalla Projects

Work by Thomson Dryjanski, , Brandy Fisher, , Emerson Granillo, David M. Hall, Misato Inaba, Absis Minas, Jen Smoose, Jaroslaw Studencki, Kristen Lee Stokes, Eileen Mueller, Casey McGonagle, and Hyounsang Yoo.

Johalla Projects is located at 1561 N. Milwaukee Ave. Reception Friday from 7-10pm.

4. A Hostile Womb at EBERSMOORE

Work by Mark Mulroney.

EBERSMOORE is located at 213 North Morgan, #3C. Reception Friday from 6-9pm.

5. Talk is the object at iceberg projects

Work by Gregg Bordowitz

iceberg projects is located at 7714 N. Sheridan Rd. Reception is Saturday from 6-9pm. Artist talk at 7pm.

Top 5 Weekend Picks! (10/8 – 10/10)

stephanieburke — Fri, 08 Oct 2010 02:02:56 +0000

1. Persistence of Vision at Fill in the Blank Gallery

Work by Learning.

Fill in the Blank Gallery is located at 5038 N. Lincoln Ave. Reception Friday, 7-11pm.

2. More is More at The Family Room

Work by Nancy Rosen.

The Family Room is located at 1821 W Hubbard St., # 202. Reception Friday, 6-11pm.

3. FLAT 7 at Floor Length and Tux

Work by Julie Rudder, Kendrick Shackleford, David Moré, Catie Olson and EC Brown. This fish is not the work, it’s just FLAT’s awesome logo.

Floor Length and Tux is located at 2332 W Augusta Blvd, 3F. Reception Saturday 7-10pm.

4. Quarterly Site #4: Registers at LVL3

Shameless self promotion, but it’s going to be an awesome show. Co-curated by Andrew Blackley, Stephanie Burke and Steve Ruiz. Featuring the work of Duncan Anderson, Susan Giles, Anna Kunz, Oliver Laric, and Nathaniel Robinson.

LVL3 is located at 1542 N Milwaukee Ave, 3. Reception Saturday, 6-10pm.

5. Silkscreen Party/Work Party Oak Park at He said, She said

Bring a T-shirt to silkscreen. Work by Tony Tasset, Pamela Fraser, Rebecca Mir, Aay Preston-Miint and others.

He said, She said is located at 216 N Harvey Ave, Oak Park. Reception Sunday, 2-4pm.

Top 5 Weekend Picks!

stephanieburke — Thu, 06 May 2010 14:00:49 +0000

Hello again!

The madness of Artopolis is over my friends, and I’m glad for it, it was a long weekend. But this by no means indicates a lack of awesome art. This weekend is surprisingly busy, and here’s what I think shouldn’t be missed:

1. Immersioni/Immersions at Johalla Projects

A primarily, though not exclusively, video based exhibition jointly curated by Anna Cerniglia and Susanna Horvatovicova, and featuring the work of Elise Blue, Ben Russell, Rakele Tombini, and Chiara Tommasi.

Johalla Projects is located at 1561 N. Milwaukee Ave., 2nd fl. Opening Reception Friday, from 7-11pm.

2. Alphabetization at Noble & Superior Projects

An exploration of language curated by Ania Szremski, and featuring the work of Brandon Alvendia, Scott Carter, Eric Fleischauer, Brookhart Jonquil and Daniel Lavitt.

Noble & Superior Projects is located at 1418 W. Superior St. Opening Reception Friday, from 6-10pm.

3. The Home Front: What You Can Do! at Pritzker Military Library

WWII motivational propaganda posters. Have you started your war garden?

Pritzker Military Library is located at 610 N. Fairbanks Ct., 2nd fl. Show begins May 7th.

4. Flat 6 at Floor Length and Tux

Experiments in spicy with Jon Bollo, Luca Scala, Jonathan Ozik, Matty Colston, Catie Olson, and EC Brown.

Floor Length and Tux is located at 2332 W. Augusta, #3. Reception Saturday, beginning at 7pm, DJ at 11pm.

5. As you pass by and cast an eye as you are now so once was I at Western Exhibitions

Creepy sculpture and flat work by Rachel Niffenegger. John Parot’s show Hobbies also opens at Western Ex.

Western Exhibitions is located at 119 N Peoria St. 2A. Reception Saturday, from 5-8pm.

Some Notes on Hosting

Guest Blogger — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 18:58:45 +0000

Guest Post by Jennifer Breckner

Some Notes on Hosting

Brian O’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 format—white walls, rectangular or square shape, wooden floors, and lit from the ceiling—may be utilized anywhere and continues to be implemented widely, including in most of Chicago’s beloved apartment galleries. 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?[1]

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. “We have now reached a point where we see not the art but the space first,” asserts O’Doherty. [2] 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 “alternative” gallery. Its structure conveys knowledge and authority; it asks of the viewer a quiet, almost religious-like devotion. 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 shouldn’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 autonomy—because the stakes are not as high as the commercial gallery or museum—to experiment with setup? 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. 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. 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. An article on Chicago’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.[3] This kind of approach is a mistake for how can one’s living space compete with the likes of a commercial gallery? 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.[4]

The reasons for organizing an apartment gallery are varied. For many individuals, this kind of gesture allows them the autonomy to participate in the art world as they dictate. In a competitive field, and in a city populated with too many artists, curators, and art historians, running an apartment gallery is a resume builder and enhances one’s cultural capital. It provides hands-on experience and a creative outlet for individuals who have little opportunity to exhibit, curate, or write in Chicago. The importance of this cannot be overlooked. In addition, these spaces provide a social outlet for Chicago’s cultural producers and provide inspiration to many to take on the task of organizing their own initiatives. More often than not they may serve as a party space where the art takes a backseat. This, depending on one’s viewpoint, may not be a negative quality. Sometimes, as in the case of 65Grand, work is sold and rent is paid,[5] but for many individuals who hope to enter the factory-line of cultural production, the spaces that make money are few and far between.

I am often perplexed by the expectations that some individuals have as to the value of their initiatives beyond their own experience. For example, a student in a class that I was taking had an interesting idea for a roving gallery. She mentioned to me that she was planning on raising $25,000 in one year so that this new gallery could be self-sustaining. Even prior to the recent economic collapse in the United States, fundraising for experimental initiatives was difficult, but I am unsure from where these kinds of funds would materialize. I was at once in awe of this person’s determination to have high goals that seemed a bit naive, and dismayed that their expectations were set on such a professional level. This example made me think of comments made by artist Nan Goldin in a 2006 lecture at the Art Institute of Chicago in which she talked about quitting her teaching position at an ivy league school because the students there were more focused on obtaining gallery representation and being mentioned in Artforum than on making good art. Has the business of art encroached too much upon the apartment gallery and stifled creativity?

In terms of the somatic relationship of the viewer to formal gallery space, O’Doherty articulates that minds are welcome but, as all obstacles such as furniture and miscellaneous debris are removed from the site, bodies seem intrusive.[6] While there is a generosity in opening up one’s personal space for these kinds of events, and many of Chicago’s apartment gallery owners are a friendly lot, for a new visitor entering an apartment gallery that tries to mimic the pristine controlled exhibition space, the body feels doubly unwanted as one enters both a space for contemplation of art and a private, domestic arena that acts as a small, tightly packed social scene as well. In addition, many apartment gallery owners fail to engage strangers in their space, and may seem indifferent to new visitors, encouraging the idea that these spaces are more for the cultural elite that exist at this ground level than for a variety of new people. Lastly, sometimes the homeowners may be disdainful of new guests. There is one owner of a now-defunct Chicago apartment gallery who was known for actually discouraging visitors from entering the apartment and seemed bothered by the people that were in his space.

Therefore, I would assert that one area where apartment gallery directors, and even those individuals interested in alternative forms of exhibition, display, and social space coordination could change things is in the realm of hosting. The importance of being a gracious host is clear. Now, I’m not referring to the realm of hosting via someone like Martha Stewart who sees this quality as being a result of good breeding and lineage, and where individuals are encouraged to attend to superfluous minutiae—I am not suggesting that apartment gallery directors begin to think about making their own crocheted garbage bags or the like. What I am suggesting is that to be a good host means doing the difficult work of facilitating social interaction. Most people are more comfortable in their own groups than meeting strangers and social awkwardness is prevalent at art openings.

The apartment gallery director should take on the role of social director to create warm and open social spaces. They should introduce their self to strangers and then introduce guests to others to develop and enrich the social network that occurs within the space.[7] Acknowledging and welcoming someone into this complicated space, may set the guest at ease and make them want to come back. Someone skilled at hosting knows how to get different people talking and to be alert to those that are excluded. This, I would hope, would open up the Chicago apartment gallery scene just a bit. Food, beverage, and animals also help to break up the anxiety of these events but including these amenities really depends upon the budget and interests of the individual director.

For those apartment gallery directors who are serious in their endeavors to provide an alternative creative space that addresses local needs, it seems a shame that all of that hard work and monetary sacrifice could be negated in some fashion because a space seemed to resolve around a certain clique or seemed off putting. The creation and maintenance of an engaging, open and creatively modified social space seems to be an overlooked gesture that could distinguish apartment galleries from the other institutional models prevalent within cultural production today.

[1] This version of the essay has been edited since appearing in the FLAT4 publication.

[2] Brian O’Doherty, Inside the White Cube: The Ideology of the Gallery Space (Santa Monica: Lapsis Press, 1986, c.1976), p. 14.
[3] Lauren Viera, “Artful Living in Alternative City Spaces,” Chicago Tribune August 23, 2009.

[4] Lucia Fabio, Director of minidutch, which is now sadly defunct, had an interesting series called Eating on the Cheap where she invited guests chefs, this author included, to cook inexpensive but flavorful food at her apartment during open gallery hours. The idea was that visitors would sit around her kitchen table and discuss timely topics, such as food politics and the decline of the American economy, filling up her living space with bodies during the time that the gallery was open. It was an attempt to activate the space and make it more social. It would have been interesting to see the direction she would have taken this series if the gallery had remained open.

[5] Viera.
[6] O’Doherty, p.15
[7] While this may seem like an attempt at brown-nosing given that Erik Brown is one of the co-organizers of this publication, both he, and his wife, Catie Olson, are particularly conscious of being attentive hosts, both of them at Floor Length and Tux and Erik, as one of the co-organizers of COMA. Their generosity was the impetus, for me, to write this essay.

Jennifer Breckner works in the Department of Architecture and Design at the Art Institute of Chicago where she tries to incorporate Bartelby the Scrivener’s mantra of “I’d prefer not to” into the fabric of each workday. She causes great exasperation to design students as an adjunct professor of modern and contemporary art history at Harrington College of Design. For the past year she has co-organized, along with members of InCUBATE, Sunday Soup Brunch, a monthly meal that funds micro-grants for artists and that has just ended its run at the Orientation Center. Jennifer will move forward independently with the project, hopefully facilitating it as a roving event.

Sunday Soup

****

Editors’ Note: All this week we’re running some of the essays written for Floor Length and Tux’s “Untitled Circus” event this past weekend. 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’re posting some of them here on Bad at Sports as a way to extend the discussion. Please email us with your comments at mail@badatsports.com, or if you’d like to contact the folks at FLAT directly, you can email Erik at erik@ floorlengthandtux.com.

On the matter of public space: or my apartment gallery is an arctic explorer

Guest Blogger — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 15:03:09 +0000

Guest Post by Caroline Picard

This essay was first published in the Artists Run Chicago Digest published jointly by threewalls and Green Lantern Press in 2009.

On the matter of public (1) space : or my apartment gallery is an arctic explorer

“‘Oh, you have a roommate?’

“ ‘Yeah, she’s actually here right now, but she’s sick….Don’t do that—she’s trying to sleep.’

“I heard them but pretended to remain asleep by keeping my eyes closed; [closing your eyes] is what passed for privacy then. My ‘room’ 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.

“Any Chicagoan who’s hip to the jive knows that an apartment gallery poses a unique set of problems. Someone actually lives there—sleeps and cooks and poos there—and yet the obligatory neutral space of the gallery must remain white-walled, spacious, antiseptic. At the GL in the earlier days, the gallery was clean, airy, spare, while on just the other side of a makeshift wall was a seething and barely-controlled chaos. A visiting friend once described the living space as ‘under a great deal of pressure,’ like the lack of density in the gallery half had to be balanced by ultra-density in the living half. This density consisted of, among other things, a large mounted buck complete with antlers, a five foot plaster statue of a fat man with an umbrella, a bong made out of steak shellacked to a milk carton, a taxidermied rooster, two large Chinese screens, many works of art in various stages of undress, two living cats…enough plates and stemware to host a diplomatic gala, a sink doubling as a bookshelf, a home-made up-ended ‘bar,’ an enormous vintage fridge, a miniature vintage stove, an easel, double-stacked books, innumerable trinkets ranging from delicate Eastern figurines to an ancient can of spam, an old-fashioned sandwich press, two Dictaphones, one enormous toaster (not in use) and a tiny one (in use). People liked throwing around comparisons to Alice in Wonderland, but that was legit. The fact that the two-foot high pepper mill was three times as tall as the delicate teapot, for instance, made me wonder if I’d accidentally swallowed a pill. And keep in mind that I’ve listed perhaps a sixteenth of the contents of those two or three improvised rooms. I haven’t even mentioned the huge quantities of building supplies, the aluminum ladder, the planks and tools and cans of paint…” (2)

This book is filled with the evidence of relationships. It is a book of conversations, including conversations about conversations and, sometimes, conversations about conversations about conversations. Each perspective constitutes one piece of an artist-run community reflecting on its endeavors. While it is important to archive these conversations for the community to which it speaks, it is also important to examine the consequences of such a culture in the context of a larger world—a world unfamiliar with the pattern of organizations described herein. Particularly if the conversations outlined here claim to cultivate new models for achievement, one must consider what the artist-run community looks like from the outside, from the vantage of a stranger.

What, indeed, is transgressive about artist-run exhibition spaces? Certainly those contained in this book will have their theories and while some of these organizations were constructed as political experiments, a number of them won’t characterize their activity as political at all, saying instead that running a space is done for personal/professional experience, or as an experiment, or a labor of love. And yet. Regardless of stated intentions, all action is political.(3) Such an opinion comes from within a community where the practice of running an apartment gallery is fairly common.(4) In order to categorize such activities as transgressive or political, one must label them somehow. In doing so, necessary comparisons must be made to the world at large. Generalizations must be made about what the world at large consists of, what expectations it places upon members of its society and, ultimately, how its constituents measure themselves. Other generalizations must then be made about the smaller niche of artist-run communities, in order to discover the tension between them.

When compared to the world we watch on television, the practice of apartment galleries seems absurd. (5) Compared to the stories told via sitcoms and commercials, all young women want to get married, everyone desires fame and all clothes look brand new. Obviously the average viewer is literate enough to know that television is a fictionalized hyper-reality. Nevertheless as a primary source of cultural consumption, most viewers recognize subtle conventions that support the more prominent story lines. A home, for instance, means something specific. As a cultural symbol it provides the framework for countless many sitcoms—a framework based on common expectations of what a home should supply to its occupants. The viewer won’t likely conceive of their living room as a potentially public place, a place for cultural distribution. Building a public environment of cultural creativity in one’s home challenges traditional boundaries between public and private spheres just as it encourages intimacy between the art object and its epicyclic community. In such a community, relationships become as important as the work on display and validation occurs through non-monetary, communal support.

The collusion of public and private space, mixed with a living contemporary art and the communities that support it, is trans-gressive in and of itself. Such a recipe breaks down the societal expectations of public activity. Furthermore apartment galleries agitate common definitions of “home” and “domestic space.” The people who inhabit apartment galleries organize their homes according to the possible descent of an unknown body of people: the public. Meanwhile the public modifies their expectation of public space such that they are sensitive to the generosity of their hosts. A code of behavior has manifested between the host and the public. That code, while organic in its inception, facilitates the relationship between the audience, the art and their administrative hosts. While that code is not readily apparent, (6) Sarah Stickney witnessed that code as a newcomer only to embrace it as a resident.

In Chicago, the public consumption of visual art is not allowed by law to exist in intimate settings, (the house, the apartment, the garage, etc.,). The apartment gallery is essentially illegal. The illegality of these spaces occurs when they struggle for some shred of sustainability (i.e. through the selling of goods),(7) attempt to operate legally (by way of purchasing the necessary licenses and tearing through the ensuing red tape of bureaucracy), or when they attempt to avail themselves to a larger audience, one not restricted to Facebook friends. (8)

Obviously that isn’t to say apartment galleries don’t happen, or (even) that city officials don’t in some blind-eye-manner endorse cultural DIY activity; the city of Chicago seems to enjoy identifying itself with those practices.(9) Nevertheless, said practices are not technically allowed. Thus, while a private party is acceptable, a publicized, public exhibition is not—especially when money changes hands. The city maintains its ability to control the watering holes this community frequents; the city can shut apartment galleries down.(10)

In our day and age much of the cultural production that takes place within the art world has been tamed and funneled into pre-existing power structures that support the larger mainstream. Artists often seek gallery representation, striving to achieve standing in the commercial market, such that they might support and (thus) justify their art making practice through the pursuit of public acclaim and monetary compensation. It makes sense. It is almost impossible to expect anything else. After all, how does an artist justify spending hours reading, thinking, painting and writing in a studio while his or her significant other goes to work sixty hours a week in order to support both of them? And what if the artist has a child? How does the artist explain his or her non-commercial and largely interior processes when a kid needs school clothes? It is perhaps impossible to strive through consumer culture, where legitimacy is typically measured by purchasable signs of success—homes, cars, televisions, computers etc., making objects that are neither compensated by monetary sums nor attributed with an inherent non-market value. Indeed, on such a quest the consumer landscape becomes a veritable wilderness.

It is thus essential to create alternative methods of public validation. Exhibitions are one way to take a potentially monkish studio practice and drop it into the public sphere in which an audience can respond. Apartment galleries, while affording meager monetary relief, at least appeal to different values, values based on esteem and reputation—ambiguous, difficult-to-define attributes.

In Chicago, they seem accrued by way of hard work, talent and generosity. Within such a community an artist with little to no interest in (or access to) the commercial world can relate to an audience comprised of other artists, art enthusiasts and, sometimes, the uninitiated. Further, they can contextualize their efforts to their family, the spouses or parents that might support them. The apartment gallery provides a different criterion for validation and empowers small groups of individuals to cultivate unique and potentially iconoclastic aesthetics.

Aside from those bastions of non-traditional/non-commercial artistic production, most cultural activity is distributed via mainstream arteries that reach millions of people at once. The same television shows are watched, the same movies, the same news sources owned by the same parent companies. Most people listen to the same music, read the same books and, therefore, refer to the same common body of knowledge. Contemporary America has a common vocabulary of cultural symbols that comprise the dreams of the individual. It is possible, for instance, that Tom Cruise made over a million cameos in dreams across the country last night. While the peculiar context for his manifestation would vary, he is nevertheless saddled with very similar associations, associations that stem from his public persona. As the mechanism of such a society continues, as the material for our thoughts sets, it will be harder and harder to transcend those ideas we take for granted: ideas about what a home is supposed to be, for instance. As we get locked into unconscious expectations of the world, it will be harder and harder to have new ideas, moments of inspiration, and innovation in which we might transcend ourselves.(11)

I believe that small hubs like the apartment gallery, the small record label, the small press, the underground movie theater: such venues generate and sustain micro-cultures that encourage unpredictable thoughts, ideas and enthusiasms. If anything, they might simply encourage people to believe once more in the capacity of the individual to influence the world. Exploring the tension between public and private, commercial and non-commercial, regulated and non-regulated business is good and valuable. It’s worth always carving out our own identities, our own terms and communities, means of support, and methods of validation.

FOOTNOTES

1. vs. Private

2. Excerpt by Sarah Stickney from It’s Your Turn, a silk-screened zine edited by Young Joon Kwok and Rachel Shine. Printed in an edition of 90 in June of 2009.

3. John Huston, the Arctic explorer, gave a lecture about an expedition he conducted where he traveled, primarily on foot, along the Northwest Passage. The Northwest Passage had long been sought after. In the 1800’s, Norwegian and British ships set out to discover a passage that would improve shipping routes. It was never found in the 1800’s because it never existed. Those expeditions only ever found ice. Last year, the Northwest Passage came into being for the first time. Climate change has melted enough ice such that a passage opened up, connecting the Arctic and Pacific Oceans. Just this summer John Huston walked along its bounds. He suspects that in years to come the unassisted expedition he conducted with expedition partner Tyler Fish will be impossible. In the years to come there will be no ice upon which to walk. I suggested that his journey was political, that it had the appearance of a quiet protest. In walking so many miles with so much risk he was calling attention to the ways in which we are destroying our environment. He denied the interpretation, saying instead that he was only interested in the application of the human spirit against terrible odds. While I understand that he has his own intentions, I also cannot avoid interpreting those same actions in a different, and in this case, political, light.

4. Me for instance: I started the Green Lantern Gallery & Press in 2004. Over the last four years I have hosted between six and eight exhibitions a year. I have hosted countless other public programs, including live music events, screenings, performances and readings. Working with Nick Sarno, Editor for the Green Lantern Press, we have published ten small edition books. In 2007 we achieved 501c3 status. In 2009 we closed the gallery portion because we did not have a business license. Throughout this process I have lived in the gallery, assuming my day-to-day life as though the public might, at any moment, descend upon it. I am thus sensitive to the nebulous boundaries prescribed by such a vocation.

5. A real estate agent once bought a copy of the Phonebook Annual Index of Alternative Art Spaces from me. Her eyes were big and wet with this million-dollar idea: She wanted to rent a storefront out to artists. It made sense to her that artists would pay for exhibition space. It made sense to her that they would pay more than a store because their occupancy would rotate over shorter periods of time; further she felt she would do some larger service to the neighborhood. We shared a mutual bafflement as I explained that, by and large, artists did not pay for exhibition space. “The spaces in this book?” she asked, shaking the Phonebook. “Definitely not those spaces,” I said. She asked me how anybody made money. I said, “With the exception of a few commercial galleries, nobody makes any money at all.” She asked me how people made a living. I think I shrugged.

6. A friend of Sarah’s, call her Jennie, came through town once. Jennie was in the midst of what she called a “journey,” leaving an old life behind in search of a new one. She left a girlfriend in Portland. She was in the process of buying a car from that ex-girlfriend’s parents, parents who happened to live in the Midwest. Jennie and I went out for drinks the first night. We had a great time. She was full of anxious enthusiasm and kept shaking her hands in the air, as though to exorcise the frenetic energy of transition. Because the gallery was between exhibits, she slept on the gallery floor.

After a few days, Sarah and I realized that we didn’t know when she planned to leave. She was waiting on the suburban parents who couldn’t find the necessary papers to change the car’s registration. Over the course of ensuing days the radius of Jennie’s personal belongings extended in a wider and wider arc. Her personal possessions could be found in any number of places, a mislaid sock under the gallery desk, a hairbrush on the window ledge. The more she seeded the gallery with her things, the more frightened we became. Sarah and I could not, for some reason, bring ourselves to directly ask about her plans. She provided a variety of unsolicited excuses, all of them likely legitimate enough: there were problems registering the car, the car wouldn’t start, she couldn’t get out to the suburbs that day, the train wasn’t working, their family dog died. Yet palpable in those was a feeling that she was very happy with Chicago. She dropped hints now and again about how the new life she sought might be staring her in the face. “This is so cool,” she might say. “It’s a great life. All I want to do is get drunk every night and meet new people. I’ve been having the most amazing conversations. Everyone I meet is on the cusp of some massive coming-into-being transition.” There were rumors that she might have fallen in love again and she began conducting long, hushed conversations on her cell phone. Sarah and I found ourselves avoiding the gallery altogether, as though the 600 square feet had become Jennie’s bedroom.

A few weeks later, one week before the next exhibit, I came home to find laundry hanging from a clothesline strung across the gallery. I went into the kitchen and a boy came out of the bathroom in towel. He had just showered. I don’t think I said anything to him, but I imagine I was pale. He smiled naturally and struck out his hand. I ignored it. I went to the back porch and found another boy smoking a cigarette with his feet up. I didn’t recognize either of these boys. “Where’s Jennie?” I asked, snarky. “She’s on her way,” he said. I did not ask from where.

I’m quite sure Jennie would have stayed indefinitely. She said as much later; the space seemed so large and empty that a girl in a sleeping bag—or even, a boy and a girl, for that matter—in her mind, seemed inconsequential. She scoffed a little on her way out of town, because the space was not what it appeared, at first, to be. From her perspective, she said she thought it was a carefree environment where progressive people stayed up late, absorbed in bohemian activities, having lots of sex, doing exotic drugs,reading philosophy, dancing, automatic writing, drinking black coffee all hours of the day and smoking copious amounts of cigarettes.

I realized then that I was not bohemian. I also realized that the Green Lantern was more “serious” than I had thus far pretended. And then I realized that I was part of a community of artist-run spaces that had taught me, by way of example, what kind of space I wanted to run. I had never before had to define that model to anyone, because here in Chicago I was participating in a pre-existing custom. Unlike the wayward traveler, artists in Chicago understood the Spartan emptiness of the gallery space. To that audience, the space, while “empty” was in constant use. To my guest the empty space seemed wastefully idyll.

7. ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES THAT TOOK PLACE AT THE GREEN LANTERN:

1) Purchase of artwork

2) Purchase of books

3) Purchase of alcoholic beverages under the auspice of “donation”

4) Live music performances for which people paid at the door (a PPA license

is needed for this)

5) Operating without a business license

6) The burlesque show in the front window

8. The Green Lantern was ultimately shut down because we carried a sandwich board out onto the street. A man from the city came to ask if we had a license for said sandwich board. We did not. He then asked if we had a business license. We did not. Had we never put the sign out, the man from the city would never have found out about us. Neither would the five weekly strangers who stumbled in to an exhibit from the street. The sandwich board encouraged people from outside of our immediate community to come up the stairs and see contemporary art.

9. Upon receiving my ticket from the city I went to City Hall. They sent me to the seventh floor where I waited for three hours. When I finally spoke to an administrator—a chubby, self-deprecating man—we filled out paper work. He didn’t make many jokes but he did laugh at mine, albeit nervously. He plugged the information into an archaic computer and the computer rejected my proposal. He sent me up to the ninth floor.

On the ninth floor, I waited in line again, paper work in hand. When my turn came, I spoke to a woman behind glass. It was difficult to hear her and she seemed to carry on two conversations at once, the one with me and the one with a co-worker sitting next to her. When she saw my paper work she said, “Oh! You don’t need a business license, you need a live/work space. You’re an artist, right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“It’s like a studio, right? You show your own work?”

I waffled, “Sometimes,” I said. (I never show my own work.) I hesitated. “What if sometimes I show other people’s work?”

She smiled. She winked. “You only show your work.” She winked again.

“Oh. I get it. Yeah. I only show my work.”

She sent me back downstairs.

After waiting another thirty minutes I spoke to the same self-deprecating man. Thumb tacked to his cubicle wall were several awards for Customer Kindness spanning almost ten years. “They told me I don’t need a business license,” I said to the award from 2006. Then I looked at him. “I need a live/work permit, they said.”

The computer almost accepted my proposal. At the last minute it said we needed approval from another woman at another desk. This woman asked me twenty questions, after which she shook her head. “You need a business license,” she said. “You need to research the history of the building to see if there have been previous businesses.”

They sent me to the thirteenth floor.

I took the stairs.

On the thirteenth floor, I walked down a long corridor and into a corner office with two baskets—one brimming with paper work—on a front table.

Behind the table there were several desks, all finished in faux-wood. The place looked like an office from an 80’s sitcom that had fallen into disrepair: an old set no one had since paid any attention. I couldn’t see anyone in the office so I called out, “Hello?”

A small, middle-aged woman stood up. She reminded me of the secretary from Ghost Busters. She had short, pink hair and very large glasses. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“I need to request a history for the building I live in?”

She pointed to the basket with fewer papers. “Fill out the form in that basket and then put it in the other basket.” She pointed to the overflowing basket.

“When will I find out?” I asked.

“I don’t know. We’re all backed up,” she said.

It has never before occurred to me to bribe anyone before. I didn’t bribe her, though I think I should have because while waiting on the history of the building I got a second ticket.

After this second ticket I called my alderman. He put me in touch with a higher up at City Hall. Again, the woman I spoke to was very nice. “We don’t want you to close,” she said.

“What should I do, then?”

“You need a business license,” she said.

“Can you give me one?”

“You can’t get one at that location.”

The Green Lantern was unable to get a license because of zoning; the building was not zoned for a business. Yet. Even if I had gotten a business license I would have had to move my apartment out of the space. They told me that if a) more than 12 people visited the space a week, b) objects were sold, c) there were two doors, d) either 100 sq. feet or more than 10% of the living space (whichever was less) was used for the business, then it was disqualified from the live/work permit. If I had qualified for a business license, I could not have lived there at all. You see? Apartment galleries are illegal.

10. In the recent year, The Aviary was shut down for not having a business license, as was Lloyd Dobler, as was Alagon. The Hyde Park Art Center also had some problems recently and were told not to serve any kind of refreshments.

11. We need new models of sustainability. Even as reports of global crisis encroach our daily consciousness, we continue to live lives dependent on fossil fuel. In order to remedy the current recession, we are encouraged once more to consume to resuscitate the country and our current way of life. Because consumable objects function as societal symbols of stability and success, members of society cultivate those objects. In order to alter the course of desire, we must change the meaning of those symbols and virtues for legitimacy/achievement, we might. If we do not, if we continue to follow our present mode of production in which more money means more exterior power and more self-worth, we will continue to ravage our resources. If, perhaps, we could find other symbols and virtues for achievement, we might make a better home in the world at large.

Caroline Picard is an artist and the director of Green Lantern Gallery and Press.

****

Editors’ Note: All this week we’re running some of the essays written for Floor Length and Tux’s “Untitled Circus” event last weekend. 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’re posting some of them here on Bad at Sports as a way to extend the discussion. Please feel free to email us with your comments at mail@badatsports.com, or if you’d like to contact the folks at FLAT directly, you can email Erik at erik@ floorlengthandtux.com.

Eric May of Roots and Culture on Chicago’s Apartment Galleries

Guest Blogger — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 01:40:16 +0000

Guest Post by Eric May

(Ed. Note: May’s essay takes the format of responses to a series of questions about Chicago’s apartment gallery scene, posed by EC Brown of Floor Length and Tux).

Do these space have real cultural or regional impact? Does anyone really care if Chicago has 2.3 trillion small project spaces?

The overall arc of sixty+ years of independent art spaces in Chicago clearly has significance in that it’s become the tradition it has, and an activity that folks here seem to stay interested in. Beyond that, the factors of cheap rent, lack of venues, and DIY spirit lend to the reason why every other undergrad starts their own space and we end up with 2.3 trillion things going on. I think that perhaps one of the strongest cultural benefits is the self- education of young folks in organizing- something risky and entrepreneurial. It almost doesn’t matter if their project is “successful”- at least they’ve gone through the motions of taking on something bigger, outside themselves, and collaborative. And who will see all these activities? I think that’s up to the folks running these spaces and how hard they are willing to work to promote themselves and stay dedicated. Some survive, some don’t- lesson learned. A recent train of thought has questioned whether these spaces are a mere surrogate for the healthier, better supported art venues of the bigger cultural centers- a last ditch effort for artists to get their work shown. All said, in the end of the day, the work gets shown. Chicago can have a really healthy community-supported art scene. Regional impact beyond our own metropolitan area? Folks that I know in Indianapolis, Milwaukee, Detroit, Grand Rapids, Kansas City, St. Louis, Ann Arbor, and Minneapolis pay attention to what happens here. I know people that, inspired by the independent space scene in Chicago, have embarked on their own spaces in their home cities. Flyover maybe, but at least Chicago’s got the busiest airport (do we even anymore?). Beyond that? Eh. Maybe I’m the wrong person to ask – I’ve been here my whole life! More press would be helpful…

Do these projects propose alternatives to institutional models or do they reinforce them?

We all start out feeling revolutionary in our aims, to do something better, more community-based, holistic. I guess the models that we have are, in fact, usually of the institutional template, though. In some ways I feel that the dominant modes of production- the very art being made and shown follows pretty conservative models. White wall, painting, sculpture, pedestal, postcard, press release, price list, opening- it is all rather rote and familiar of the institution. Perhaps we are at a moment where all is challenged- a proposition that interests me. Artists making conventional objects need conventional exhibition space- but let’s say we blow the whole thing apart. Social projects, space as practice, radical arts admin, I think that it’s a ripe moment to challenge the institutional paradigm. Artists run spaces? I keep asking myself what this means, what if I really ran a space as the artist? Actually, I run a space that functions quite by the books for the most part- though, I do believe that we are an active and relevant part of the art world. Some day I may re-invent the space, but for now, I am bound to the dominant structure and will support the kind of objectmaking- that while sometimes may feel conservative – I feel is still worthy of contemplation.

Do these spaces really provide something that institutions or larger galleries can’t?

I think this is a good point of defense for these kinds of activities. Again, maybe it’s a Chicago thing and symptomatic of our weak collector/ commercial gallery system that cannot support the throngs of artists produced yearly by our plethora of art degree producing programs. But I truly believe that we need the independent spaces to self-support our scene. Nurturing challenging and indefinable work is always at the core of the best of the missions of these spaces. If commercial galleries are too nervous to work with this type of art because there will be no one to buy it, then in order to foster a healthy and provocative art scene we need independent spaces to fill this role. I think that the nonprofit model can still be relevant in obtaining cultural monies to support such projects. Even more progressive programs can take this further, blurring definitions of artist run space/ curation/ production. If we look ahead to more progressive models of both exhibition and production, we will need to move further and further toward new models that will support these new activities.

Have there been particular programs that you feel excelled in these spaces and would have benefited from being seen in a more traditional environment?

Well, I support all of my artists and wish for them to succeed in their careers, so of course I can envision our programming in larger art centers, museums, and perhaps commercial galleries. There seems to be an identity crisis that might be particular to Chicago – on one hand you’ve got the DIY, decentralized, almost anti-consumerist activities by both artists and venues. Then there are plenty of artists and spaces – both “alternative” and independent – style commercial spaces that are interested in participating in the market and the production and exchange of saleable objects. I cannot blame any artist for striving to achieve financial successes, we all know how hard it is. Make nice paintings, want them to sell? Why not. In the Capitalist age we all must survive in someway and that might mean participating in more traditional environments. On the other hand, programming at more progressive projects like Mess Hall and InCubate would be paradoxical to enter into institutional environments. I can think of several particular programs at R & C that probably would not fit so well either.

Are these projects a manifestation of DIY, or are they rogue businesses? Or vanity projects masquerading as non-profit cultural services?

Well with a constituency of 2.3 trillion, I think that the alt-space scene in Chicago most likely ranges the gamut. R & C has probably existed as all of these things. DIY seems a pretty common operational mode for most of these spaces. I don’t see larger institutions or private donors throwing loads of cash at start up galleries – we all start modestly and with support generally from our peers and friends. As for the idea of rogue business–that depends on how well folks have their shit together. Ways in which I ran our space for the first year and a half were off-the-books, the days before we were 501(c)(3). Also, it is so unclear sometimes what the convoluted beaurecracies of this city expect in terms of licensing and permits – they seem to invent new hurdles for small businesses all the time. Look at the wave of crack down last summer – I mean in my eyes, the Green Lantern is probably one of the more legitimized and organized spaces in the city, but they ran into trouble – for what, a sandwich board? Broke city needs money. Another example of DIY, while being a totally legitimately- run business is Golden Gallery. I can think of more-than-a-handful of commercial galleries in the West Loop that had humble, perhaps legally questionable, beginnings in apartments and Pilsen storefronts. Vanity projects – who wouldn’t take pride in the endless time and energy that they put forth towards a project with little gain other than supporting the local arts community. Maybe there are a few instances where self-centered motives can present a conflict of interest – for instance, curating your own art work into your own shows or at your own space. What else would this mean? I can see where maybe a curator puts together a show to the means of their own critical standpoint, but that seems commonplace enough. I don’t think I am comfortable pointing fingers at anyone in particular’s own “vanity”. I’m sure that there is plenty of it, hell, I’m vain sometimes, but projects like these for the most part, I envision to be generous and oftentimes selfless acts.

Do these projects impact, in any way, the neighborhoods they are situated in?

That is an interesting question, one that is often asked by granting organizations in their proposals. Most immediately, I feel like new communities form around some of the more off-the-beaten path spaces. This raises questions of gentrification when seen through the perspective of neighborhoods with settled populations invaded by the art-going masses (which tend to have a certain overall demographic- educated, maybe in the upper range of the middle class). It is really tricky to reach beyond that community. At R & C, I feel like we have some success- being on a commercial strip – at attracting the customers and proprietors alike of nearby businesses – the coffee shop, the resale shop, the bike shop, the tattoo shop – I mean I guess there’s not a huge gap in these kinds of audiences, but it mixes things up. Having a high school across the way always makes for an interesting dynamic – I can’t say that many of the kids have tried to stop by (they like fucking with my cats through the window), but the teachers stop by for sure. I was at an opening on an unusually warm autumn night at a new space in Humboldt Park, Monument 2, and there was a pack of neighborhood kids who came around with piñatas and caused quite a scene on the sidewalk. That was a good vibe, having rug rats running in and out of the gallery. Inevitably, though, you see mostly the same faces at art events.

Do these spaces provide a solution to Brain Drain in Chicago? Do these spaces create collectors?

Geez, I would probably have to say that the independent spaces do not solve the greater problem of “Brain Drain”. There simply are not enough resources to go around to support artists in their adult lives, exhibiting from one independent space to the next. Plenty of artists find other means and obviously stick around. I think a common path outside of the commercial system is obviously in education. The plateau seems to happen pretty quickly with the careers of showing artists that work with independent spaces (and even our commercial galleries)- there is this sort of apex of street cred that one can develop which doesn’t necessarily pay the bills. As a nonprofit, I envision a situation where perhaps I could provide stipends for my artists. If there was more public funding to go around this could be a reality, like in Europe or Canada. But unfortunately, I feel like there are two major options that the artist can foresee – get a day job (not a necessarily a bad thing) or find gallery representation. And with a lack of commercial options here, artists turn to the independent spaces, who try as hard as they may, don’t typically have the resources to help artists make a living wage for themselves. So, the folks that wish to sell their work to make a living – they bounce, anyone with some tenure in this city has watched half of their friends inevitably leave for the coasts. Do these spaces create collectors? I’ve seen some evidence of this. I think there is a moment when spaces “grow up” and stray from the pack-em-in free beer party scene and start to function like business professionals. It takes a lot of work to court someone with an interest in art and can afford it, but might not necessarily know what they are looking at. My strategy is to throw the right kind of parties where folks like these will feel comfortable to view art, have conversation, and hopefully buy something- and sometimes it works. Maybe I’m not ready to grow up yet, but grown up parties can be fun (and more productive), too.

Eric May is an artist and the director of Roots and Culture gallery.

****

Editors’ Note: All this week we’re running some of the essays written for Floor Length and Tux’s “Untitled Circus” event this past weekend. 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’re posting some of them here on Bad at Sports as a way to extend the discussion. Please feel free to email us with your comments at mail@badatsports.com, or if you’d like to contact the folks at FLAT directly, you can email EC Brown at erik@ floorlengthandtux.com.

Erik Wenzel on the State of the Chicago Apartment Gallery

Guest Blogger — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 17:00:39 +0000

Editors’ Note: All this week we’re running some of the essays written for Floor Length and Tux’s “Untitled Circus” event this past weekend. 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’re posting some of them here on Bad at Sports as a way to extend the discussion. Please feel free to email us with your comments at mail@badatsports.com, or if you’d like to contact the folks at FLAT directly, you can email Erik at erik@ floorlengthandtux.com.

Guest Post by Erik Wenzel

For his contribution to FLAT 4, Erik Wenzel answered a series of questions on Chicago’s apartment gallery scene provided by FLAT’s co-director EC Brown. They are reprinted, below.

Do these spaces have real cultural or regional impact?

That is a big question, since it first makes me ask, “What is real culture?” Assuming culture in this sense means something that is a worthwhile activity that promotes things like community, dialogue and experience, then yes, definitely. I would say they do have regional impact simply by the fact that Chicago is known as a hub for this kind of activity. Show’s like Artists Run Chicago indicate that a more “real cultural” impact is taking place, at least at the edges of the institutional level.

Does anyone really care if Chicago has 2.3 trillion small project spaces?

People should care that these spaces exist because without them there would be almost nothing going on in the city. As it is there are only a handful of galleries with worthwhile programs. There are plenty of irrelevant or stagnant things going on. These small project spaces provide a lot of flavor and character.

Do these projects propose alternatives to institutional models or do they reinforce them?

It’s funny because my gut instinct says to be more alternative you have to engage certain institutions such as maintaining a website, writing press releases, having set hours, and building a coherent program or aesthetic. The alternative would be to then present work that is very experimental, risky and strange. And not risky or strange for the sake of edginess or shock. All the stuff trying to do that ends up being the most angsty and conventional. But an approach that says, “we are going to get cards printed, have a professional tone, but we want our artists to feel free to do something crazy.”

I notice a lot of spaces are good about putting together websites and announcements. Some are more reliably on top of providing that kind of information than commercial spaces. I think it would be a good goal to beat these professional spaces at their own game. This is possible, not only in terms of administration but in terms of programming.

This is where criticality comes in. I admire anyone that month after month can put together a show and invite strangers into their living space to come see it in addition to everything else in their life. But a lot of times it becomes about filling slots rather than having a program or an overarching aesthetic. An interesting turn that would signal a cultural or broader relevancy would be an alternative space that is run as though it were a kunsthalle. And not an ironic or fake kunsthalle. Strangely that would be pretty radical.

Do these spaces really provide something that institutions or larger galleries can’t?

I think the main asset that alternative spaces have going for them is that there is a lot of freedom and room to experiment. They provide immediacy. An exhibition at an alternative space can come about very rapidly, which is the upswing of needing to have a regular schedule. This is great to try out an idea, or do something very impulsive.

Not being in a commercial space, there is no need to make money, a show can be completely art for art’s sake. Not being at a museum there aren’t the same bureaucratic and legal constraints. This is also the area with the most room for improvement. On the whole no one seems to make the most of this advantage. Most of the time you see two-dimensional work on the walls and maybe a sculpture or a video on a TV. A lot of times this comes, ironically, from an unrealistic desire to make big sales, be discovered, or whatever sort of secret fantasy all aspiring artists and gallerists (myself included) have.

This is different than being professional, if a space is run with a certain degree of structure and regularity there is definitely potential to make sales, develop collectors and garner recognition for the artists who show there. I would say though, that trying to work backwards from that goal results in art that is not very interesting. There is nothing inherently wrong with making work that ends up fitting into these prescribed modes but it seems very cynical and not very useful to let that be the criterion that determines where a work of art or a gallery’s program is headed. For spaces needing to pay the bills, earn grants or increase membership this becomes an issue to navigate, but for alternative spaces, those concerns aren’t automatically present.

I am interested in work that responds to a situation in a more critical way. And the situation of a garage, a basement, a kitchen a living room, a bathroom, that is at once very common, domestic and everyday, is also radically different than a museum or a commercial gallery. So this is an underutilization both in spatial and economic considerations.

Are these projects a manifestation of DIY, or are they rogue businesses? Or vanity projects masquerading as non-profit cultural services?

I think all of the above and then some. There are many models and motivations for running an alternative space. I think it would be helpful to realize there is a lot of variation within the practice. There is also development, these spaces come and go, they grow, they shrink, they move, they turn into commercial spaces–there is dynamism.

Students get together to have a party, show their art, socialize and practice art stuff like installing work and writing a press release. These are essentially vanity projects as they usually start with the idea of a bunch of friends taking turns putting up their work. But this has value because it is a consequence free environment where people can make mistakes and learn things about the mechanics of exhibition making. And it is a way to get your work out there, potentially have a conversation outside the school environment. Even if students are the main audience.

Problems arise when it becomes too insular and incestuous. Which is the general problem in Chicago. Artists going around from project space to project space showing too much, producing too much of the same stuff and not spending enough time thinking. Chicago is so making oriented, there needs to be thinking in there too. This is another cause of the type of work I mentioned before that comes off as very conventional. There needs to be a critical conversation, not general consensus. Everyone knows it’s great to hear that people like what you are doing, but constructive criticism leads to development.

There have been some criticisms of the business end of alternative spaces recently that are frankly ridiculous and stupid. I find most alternative spaces don’t make a lot of sales. No one shows up at an opening with cash in hand wanting to buy the art off the walls. Those that do have that as a goal slowly move to a more professionalized setting. If an apartment gallery is doing any serious business, sooner or later they move to a “legitimate” commercial space. A lot of the established galleries got started this way. This occurs all over, not just in Chicago, and all throughout the history of art dealing.

Art is very different than other commodities, an apartment that has work on view, and is willing to sell it, is in no way the same thing as someone selling illegal cigarettes out of their house to people off the street. Art is unique, it’s not like delivering the same Marlboro for half the price and stealing the corner store’s customers. But that is the argument some seem to make, that selling paintings by your friends is going to put the real hard working commercial spaces out of business.

Do these spaces provide a solution to Brain Drain in Chicago?

I think it is starting to happen a little. But this is only one key element within a greater problem. If alternative spaces started taking more risks in terms of the art they show and the level of rigor, curatorially, conceptually and critically, there would be something. Art in Chicago is too fun and too zany.

People hold barbeques and cook food as almost a safeguard against boring art. The message seems to be the art isn’t all that great or worth seeing, but you should still come because there will be a lot of beer and fun. The elaborate party atmosphere isn’t even done as art. That at least, would be a step up. The social component is key, and openings are about fun. But art isn’t. If you want to have fun, why are you looking at art? Art can be fun, but it doesn’t have to be, and it certainly should not be a guiding principle. That’s the problem of a one-night art event with a bunch of drawings on the wall. No one takes it seriously, no one can come back later and really look at the work, engage it. I’m speaking generally, but oftentimes that ends up being the case. This is where risk would be interesting.

Assuming it is going to be a one-time only party event atmosphere, what is an art-like moment that can be inserted into the social situation? A lot of art at alternative spaces, and in Chicago in general, is very polite and geared towards accommodating the audience. What about art that confronts the audience, makes them uncomfortable, makes them feel stupid, or alienated or confused? What about art that appeals to or requires an intellectual participation? Or art that you aren’t even sure where it begins and ends? These tend to be the types of art that stay with me, and give me meaningful experiences.

Really pushing boundaries, experimenting and taking risks with ambitious projects also has the potential to start building these other things you are asking about, culture, reputation, collectors and patronage. This would be a reason to stay, or a reason for someone to come here and do a project.

Chicago exports artists, it doesn’t import them. Artists feel there is no point in staying because there is nothing interesting going on. You are isolated from the greater art world because of the pervasive mentality repeated by a few loud mouths with chips-on-their-shoulders: a pride in isolationism. If you don’t fit into the only legitimate mould of carrying on the Imagist tradition in the finest SAIC sense, it’s easy to become alienated and overlooked. Exponents of sticking to the tradition dismiss New York, LA and elsewhere as being shallow and fashionable. But how is staying focused on one blip that is moving further and further into the past signal substance, authenticity or dedication? It’s like one day having a really good meatloaf and then deciding you will only eat meatloaf for the rest of your life. In this climate artists feel like there is no way to escape the gravitational pull of the black hole without skipping town.

I think alternative spaces do, and could increase an open exchange with the world outside. Building a network of spaces across the country and internationally would be a very welcome and meaningful development. This occurs somewhat, but to really push that agenda I think would increase the value of staying in Chicago, as well as do some of the other things.

Erik Wenzel, The White Room, 2009. Courtesy 65 Grand.

Erik Wenzel is an artist, writer and educator. Recently he was a fellow at the 2009 Sommerakademie at the Zentrum Paul Klee in Bern, Switzerland, curated by Tirdad Zolghadr. He is co-editor of a related book to be published in 2010. Recent exhibitions include “[RE]-VIEW” curated by Maggie Taft and “Warm For Your Formalism” at DOVA Temporary and “Belief in Doubt in Painting” at 65GRAND. In 2010 Wenzel will present “New ‘N’ Lonelier Laze” at DOVA Temporary and “Live A Little, Live Ennui” at The President’s Gallery of Harold Washington College. His website is artoridiocy.blogspot.com.

Lucia Fabio on Chicago Apartment Galleries

Guest Blogger — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 17:37:28 +0000

Start. A continuation of thoughts from the end of mini dutch. November, 2009.

mini dutch ended a two year run in July, 2009. Subsequently, I moved to Los Angeles. Not to pursue a career as an artist or curator in a more viable city, but to be near my mother who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. This is pertinent because it sets up my inability to be as involved in the art scene as I was in Chicago. At least, for the time being, I long for the tight knit community I felt forced to leave, and detest the highly commercial and impenetrable community that I have not been inducted into. I feel confident that I will find myself in a much more optimistic mood after the unpacking ceases and I can start going to gallery openings, panel discussions, and lectures regularly again. I know that I now live in a city with a larger art presence, with a lively art market and community, but I am still am at a complete loss over leaving Chicago and my contemporaries. My thoughts have recently been drifting toward Chicago and its unique culture of the apartment gallery. What purpose do these spaces serve the city, and what did mini dutch do for me?

During my time as the director of mini dutch, I was an active participant in the apartment gallery scene. Along with my involvement with threewalls gallery and paid position as a preparator at the MCA (among other institutions) I was constantly aware of shows, events and the thereabouts of different artists. I prided myself on running an apartment gallery, giving it as much energy and attention as I could (even more than my art making). I had relationships with the artists who showed in my living room, and was able to bring new work into my domestic space each month. My life revolved around mini dutch and the overall art community with the lines between work and play becoming a warm and comforting blur. In my biased opinion, the apartment gallery is an essential part of the larger Chicago art community. It is the underlying energy that drives the rest of the city. Take away the multitudes of these homebound alternative spaces, and it would be a lackluster scene. Don’t get me wrong, there are some truly notable commercial galleries in Chicago showing progressive and challenging work. But honestly, these spaces are few and far in between. Two such spaces, Tony Wight Gallery and Western Exhibitions didn’t start their careers as straightforward commercial entities. Though never being “apartment” galleries, these two started out as alternative spaces. Similarly, spaces like Roots and Culture and The Green Lantern Gallery and Press would never have been able to develop into legitimate 501(c)3 non-profits if they weren’t first able to experiment within the comfort of their domestic space.

Within the small, incestual community that makes up the Chicago scene, the apartment galleries look very similar to the commercial ones. Many of the artists who show at commercial spaces also show at the apartment galleries. The crowd of people who attend openings in the West Loop would also come through the doors of mini dutch. Apartment galleries have very little overhead and don’t have to worry about making a profit. This is one of the most desirable attributes of running an apartment gallery. They should be operating as low cost, experimental spaces, where work can be shown and profits are not a priority. Occasionally, a visitor will be interested in a work and will want to purchase it. The allure of having some of your time and money compensated is tempting. Even mini dutch sold several pieces, though the amount I received put me nowhere close to breaking even. And that’s the thing with apartment galleries; they aren’t designed to be sustainable. Because these spaces are managed inside of apartments, they aren’t zoned by the city to be a business and to make a profit. Therefore, they are not sustainable within their own practice, but need to be supported by their creators.

Here in Los Angeles, what little exposure I’ve had to its people, few are aware of the concept of the apartment gallery. Once I explain that living spaces are converted to show artwork people are flabbergasted. Especially once I elaborate and say that these spaces usually have month long shows with regular viewing hours. If, on the off chance someone does recognize the idea of the apartment gallery, I’m confronted with “Oh, like what they are doing in New York.” This is where my fury begins. Chicago has a long, rich history of facilitating these spaces. Not only these spaces, but the whole city has a strong DIY attitude. Maybe it spawned from the stereotypical friendly hardworking mid-western upbringing, but I doubt it. The problem is that Chicago only operates within the confinements of the city. These apartment galleries should be used as the building blocks to a strong, viable, exciting, sustainable, commercial art scene. If not directly turning into a commercial space, but to train young artists, curators, dealers, collectors and critics within a supportive environment to eventually represent Chicago on a national and international level. An apartment gallery can be a means to its own end: not every apartment gallery should become a non-profit or commercial entity.

This has led me to my problem: have I just wasted two years of my life by being part of this microcosm with in the little known Chicago art community, just to move to another city to be dismissed? Or was this an invaluable experience where I had the opportunity to make a small impact within a specific community? Chicago offered cheap rent, lots of space and a supportive network, making mini dutch nearly impossible to run in any other city with the expectation of making the same impression. I hope to think that it wasn’t a waste. I just have to work a bit harder to persuade Angelinos that yes, Chicago does have a thriving art scene: one where many dedicated people are doing remarkable things out of their homes. This weekend will be the first in which I will be attending openings. My first stop is Machine Project- a venue I was made aware of when I was researching alternative spaces for the threewalls and Green Lantern publication, Phonebook. I hope in the spirit of alternative spaces I will feel comforted in this lonely city and begin to search for a community.

And eventually, to be part of it.

Lucia Fabio is the former director of minidutch gallery. She now lives in Los Angeles.

****

Editors’ Note: This week we’re running some of the essays written for Floor Length and Tux’s “Untitled Circus” event this past weekend. 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’re posting some of them here on Bad at Sports as a way to extend the discussion. Please feel free to email us with your comments at mail@badatsports.com, or if you’d like to contact the folks at FLAT directly, you can email Erik at erik@ floorlengthandtux.com.

Bad at Sports » Floor length and tux

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