by Stephanie Burke and Jeriah Hildwine
The past month has been quite busy, for Jeriah and I, as well as for the whole Chi art scene. Over the next couple days we'll be publishing Monday Morning Quarterbacks for: Friday 11/5, Saturday 11/6, Sunday 11/7, Friday 11/12, and Friday 11/19. I hope many of you made it to some or all of these shows, there was a lot worth seeing.
As for this post, we're covering one of the busiest nights we've had since the big September opening night. We made it to Edelman, Weinberg, Saslow, KH, Bowman, Zolla Liberman, ebersmoore (congrats on the baby!), Packer, Threewalls, and Fill In the Blank. It was a good night with a lot of art to see, much of it quite good. Read on, and don't forget to check out the slide show for images.
Smoke & Mirrors, work by Elizabeth Ernst at Catherine Edelman Gallery
S:
This was quite a quirky show. I don't remember ever seeing sculptors in
Edelman's space before. I think my favorite part of the whole show was
the giant camera covered in photo booth pictures, just for the sake of
playing the "how many people can you identify" game. As for the other
work, I found it hard to engage with. It wasn't mysterious enough, or
beautiful enough, or weird enough, or serious enough. It felt extremely
"almost".
J: I'm a sucker for the gritty, dark, Tom Waits sort
of spooky circus aesthetic, and some of the mechanical looking figurines
remind me in a good way of the stop-motion figures by the Brothers
Quay, and even more so the music videos for "Sober" and especially
"Prison Sex" by the band Tool which are often falsely attributed to the
Brothers Quay but are actually by director Fred Stuhr and band member
Adam Jones.
Paul Klein spoke well of Ernst's work in his Art Letter,
saying that it "addresses circus people, their psychological issues and
difference
betwen their true persona and public face," and calling it "insightful,
provocative and rich." There's something appealing about the work but I
have to disagree with Paul about what it's doing. I don't think this
work is about the "true personae" of circus people at all. It seems
instead to be an embracing exploration of the fantasy or myth of the
circus, and in particular the sideshow, in the spirit of
Carnivàle, Geek Love, or Water For Elephants.
Jordan Eagles & Dylan Vitone at David Weinberg Gallery
S:
Blood! Lots and lots of blood! Obviously Eagles owes a great deal to
good ole' Serrano, both in material and in the lyrical aesthetic
minimalism use he put the material to. I could stare at this work for
hours, the details are wonderful, especially the cracks in the dried
blood.
J: Yeah, these are fantastic. I talked to Jordan at his
opening, he's a really nice guy, and he told me that he's been doing
these for some time now and has quiet a good number of them behind him.
The work in this show dates from within the last three years; according
to Eagles (if my memory is accurate) he's been doing this for about ten
to twelve years and has done about 300 pieces. It's apparently a
pretty laborious process which involves pouring a layer, manipulating it
while it's wet, letting it dry, and then repeating these steps as many
times as necessary. If I understood correctly, he's got a bunch going
at a given time, and each takes a few weeks to complete. That was the
impression I got, anyway. But, mostly I was just really enjoying
looking at the work.
Laurie Rubin and Nicholas Battis at Judy Saslow Gallery
S:
Judy Saslow is a ridiculous sweet woman that I met for the first time
at this show. And she always has tasty snacks, but that's not for
discussion here.
J: Yeah, Judy is super sweet; this was my
first time meeting her as well. I also got to meet Nicholas Battis, we
had a nice talk about diatoms. I didn't get to meet Laurie (I believe
she was present, but appeared occupied) but I enjoyed her work, which
consisted apparently of documentation of artifacts from Henry Darger's
studio.
Layers and Dimensions, work by Mark Dickson and Richard Taylor at Gallery KH
S:
Gallery KH is another one of those galleries run by really nice people.
The women who work there always say "hi" to me, and are always helpful.
As for the work, I would have to say that the main reason I keep going
back there to look at texture. The image I'm standing next to in slide
show is one Jeriah and I were discussing as a perfect example of what
oil paint can do and acrylic can't.
J: Quite right. A lot of
times self-proclaimed experts will look at a particularly realistic
painting and say something along the lines of "Well, that must be oils;
you couldn't do that with acrylics." In fact, acrylics have come a long
way since their commercial introduction in the middle of the last
century, and today are pretty much capable of anything oils are...and
sometimes more. However, there is one area in which oils still hold an
undeniable edge, and that is in wet-into-wet work and blending.
Acrylics dry so quickly that if an color is applied without diluting it
with medium, and another color applied next to it, the first color is
likely to begin to dry before the two can be effectively blended,
especially over a large area. It can be done, of course, if one works
quickly enough, and the new Open Acrylics by Golden have a much slower
drying time, facilitating blending. But, nevertheless, Mark Dickson's
work remains a very good example of the kind of painting at which oils
remain unparalleled: large areas of color blended seamlessly into a
neutral mid tone between them. The work itself is fairly traditional
abstraction in the 20th Century Modernist tradition, and like much of
that work is of interest to me primarily as a material and color study.
J: Richard Taylor's painted aluminum forms are highly evocative of David Buckingham, who shows with Packer-Schopf Gallery.
In particular, Taylor's sinuous linear abstract forms echo the
three-dimensional letterforms in some of Buckingham's text-based forms.
There is a massive difference in approach, however. Buckingham works
with reclaimed, found steel, on which he leaves the distressed painted
surface just as he found it. Taylor appears to fabricate his forms from
raw aluminum and then paint their surfaces afterwards. The difference
therefore is between Taylor's traditional polychromed welded sculpture,
and Buckingham's welded assemblage. Taylor's abstraction is right at
home at Gallery KH, which shows primarily abstract Modernist works.
Personally I really enjoy Buckingham, both for his reclaimed surfaces
and his subject matter: guns, expletives, and a sayings such as "NO
UNLAWFUL SEX." It's right up my alley but might be a turn off to some
of the River North collectors (Packer Schopf is in the West Loop, which
has a reputation for showing somewhat edgier work.) But you never know,
they might be more adventurous than one would think. I'd like to think
so. Personally I'd like to see a lot of galleries take more risks on
naughtier work, but then, I'm not the one who has to pay their rent.
Chicago! Chicago! at Russell Bowman Art Advisory
S:
Bowman was a treat this round, for one specific reason: I saw my
favorite Roger Brown painting ever up at this show. In looking at it,
it's the interplay between flat and deep, between Brown's normal
cartooniness, and representational painting.
J: I like that
Roger Brown, the cave thing, it's cool. I like the spatial paradox. I
also liked the Ed Pashke in the back room where the snacks are. (That's
the drawing in the background of the picture of me at Bowman in my Snack Report.)
Russell Bowman Art Advisory is one of the hidden gems of Chicago's art
scene. It's not a hip apartment gallery run by an Art Institute
student, nor the kind of cutting edge commercial gallery where I'd like
to see my work someday; both of those are some of my favorite kind of
galleries (love you guys!) but Bowman is something else. It's sort of
like a tiny, free Museum of Modern Art, where viewers can see some
big-name, blue chip artists. They've also always got great snacks at
the openings. Of course, Russell Bowman Art Advisory is a secondary
market dealer, which means unlike a museum, it's a venue through which
collectors can buy this kind of high-end artwork for their own
collections. This kind of secondary market potential, while looked down
on by some, is exactly the mechanism which inspires some collectors to
purchase primary market artworks, as an investment. In this way,
secondary market dealers like Russell Bowman in some part help to create
the willingness for collectors to buy work by emerging artists, in the
hope that it may appreciate in value while they've gotten in on the
ground floor. So it's not just a great place to see work, it's also a
crucial part of Chicago's art economy. And this show, "Chicago!
Chicago!" is great proof that Chicago has produced top-tier artists, and
continues to do so.
David Lozano & Richard Notkin at Zolla/Lieberman
S:
Ok, so first off, my time at Zolla ended badly, with whoever that guy
was at the door telling Jeriah and I that it was "illegal" to bring our
own wine glasses into an art gallery. Illegal? Really? Pfff. But, aside
from that, the show was actually pretty good. With the Paschke overload
that's been occurring throughout Chicago for the past year, it was quite
interesting to see the Paschke/Essenhigh mash up of David Lozano's
work. It was also nice to see one of Amy Mayfield's pieces there when we
were snooping in the back room. Congrats to her.
J: Richard
Notkin's work is a pretty good example of the increasingly diverse role
ceramics can play in the contemporary art scene. Contemporary ceramic
work can be formal, conceptual, or as in this case, political, all while
acknowledging its traditions (tiles and teapots, in Notkin's case)
without being limited to functional or decorative roles. David Lozano's
work is indeed an interesting mashup of Ed Paschke's eroticism and
bright color with Inka Essenhigh's liquified forms, hard edges, and
clean lines. Lozano's work is smart in the best way: it draws from its
context without being overly derivative; the ingredients may not be
original but the recipe is. And it's subtly smart rather than
superficially clever, delivering a complex interplay of abstraction of
figuration, formalism and porn, pop and expressionism, without looking
like it's got something to prove. Actually it reminds me a lot of Amy
Mayfield's work, which I was pleased to see is now represented by Zolla
Lieberman. Congrats, Amy!
The wine glass confusion was unfortunate but not a big deal, I'm not
going to hold a grudge against an awesome gallery over a little
misunderstanding. Rather than write it all out again I'm just going to
quote here what I included in the photo caption of that night's snack
report:
S: Man, Rea's work is AWESOME, and
this piece, larger and more groundbreaking (or wall breaking, to be
more specific) did not dissapoint. As usual the work included a
video-game weaponry like object, this time so gargantuan that it's gun
actually broke through the wall of the gallery in into the private back
space. Accompanying the rideable beast gun were various wooden
renditions of other objects of destruction and intoxication including a
collar for captives, a machete, bongs, and kegs. Should you climb up
onto the guy, you were treated to a video of girls in the shower (or so
Jeriah said). The back room held other works by Rea, including a
Nightmare Before Christmas-like Boogieman mask, probably my other
favorite piece in the show.
J: Man, I loved this piece so much, I don't even know what to say. I like art you can climb on, and all the more so when it's awesome looking. At a meeting on Monday, Ed Marzewski of Co-Prosperity Sphere was showing us some pictures of Rea's work from 2006's NFO XPO at Iron Studios. Unfortunately I hadn't yet moved to Chicago at the time of that exhibition, but since that time have myself had the pleasure of exhibiting my work at NFO XPO, as has Stephanie, in both 2009 and 2010. Rea is one of the powerhouses of Chicago's contemporary art scene, and every time I've seen his work (at NEXT, at ebersmoore, and in Artists Run Chicago at Hyde Park Art Center) I've been absolutely blown away. His subsequent success and the incredible work he's produced since his inclusion in NFO XPO (and his solo show at Co-Pro the following year) are proof positive of what a vital role Edmar plays in encouraging young or emerging artists in Chicago.
Bebe Krimmer, Steven Carrelli and Louise LeBourgeois at Packer Schopf Gallery
S:
I always get confused for a second when I see a listing for
LeBourgeoise's work, thinking it's a listing for Louise Bourgeoise. I
actually met LeBourgeoise at the show, she's quite a nice woman. Her
moon images are haunting, and if not thoroughly critical, definitely
enjoyable to view, much like Eagles' blood and acrylic pieces.
J: There are a few of these name mix-ups in the art world; the worst of 'em probably being the confusion between the two Nick Caves (the Australian rocker and the Chicago-based performance artist). I think people have been similarly confused by the actor Steve McQueen and the American artist of the same name. I myself have had to look twice to be sure I was reading about Paul McCarthy and not Paul McCartney. LeBourgeoise's paintings are soft and quiet landscapes, not at all like Bourgeoise's creepy spider sculptures, cages, and semi-abstract drawings. Carrelli's drawings combine surreal arrangements of objects with complex exercises in linear perspective; they're a pretty awesome mind-fuck, but if you puzzle 'em out, they ultimately do seem to make sense. Bebe Krimmer's mixed-media paintings and collages draw their inspiration at least in part from the night sky, like the work of Carrie Gundersdorf, though the output couldn't be more different: Gundersdorf's paintings fall somewhere between scientific illustration and hand-drawn geometric abstraction, while Krimmer's are a more glitterly, atmospheric type of abstraction concerned with color, texture, and surface. But, like Gundersdorf, Bebe Krimmer pays homage to the sense of awe we all must feel when we look up at the night sky.
Things to Be Next To, work by Alberto Aguilar, Peter Fagundo, Warren Rosser, and James Woodfill at Threewalls
S:
This show, a collaboration between Threewalls and Charlotte Street
Foundation (from Kansas City) was so seamless you would hardly have know
it was work by a bunch of different people. Jeriah and I ended up
spending most of our time there talking with one of the women from
Kansas City, mostly about Shooting With Artists.
J: Yeah, the press release says, "The work is humble in its production, much of it requiring a close, intimate consideration." Unfortunately the opening reception of a show isn't usually an ideal circumstance for "close, intimate consideration." Looking at the photos, I don't even remember the work. I'm going to call this an attention fail on my part, and no fault of the artists, the curators, or the venue. Sorry guys, my bad, I was doing too much socializing and not enough looking at the work. I'll pay better attention next time, I promise!
Territorial Markers, work by Mark Porter at Fill In The Blank Gallery
S:
I love crazy machines that invert or corrupt the normal function of
what we assume them to be or to do. These machines, cleaning machines,
or so they looked, proved to do quite the opposite, They bubbled,
spewed, and dirtied the pristine white walls of the gallery, in a
mechanical, maniacal Dada performance. A couple of the had ceased to
operate by the time we got to the gallery, and hung limp alongside their
wall stains, bringing to mind specifically Tinguely's self-destroying
Homage to New York, if slightly less epic in the finality of mechanical
failure.
J: Drawing machines are kind of hot right now. There was a great electronic one at Studio 1020, and Conrad Freiburg has built an oldschool version called a harmonograph which I got to see in his studio; he'll be doing an exhibition related to it at Hyde Park Art Center in the near future. In the 1960s, artist Desmond Paul Henry made a harmonograph out of surplus analog bombsights of Second World War vintage; the drawings it produced, like Freiburg's, look like something made by an advanced-level Spirograph. Roxy Paine made a painting machine, as well as a sculpture machine. Mark Porter's machines have more in common with something I saw while on a trip to San Francisco earlier this year. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find my records of that work, so unless you happen to know what pendulum-based painting machine was being demonstrated in San Francisco in March or April, 2010, I think, then we're out of luck.
This just in! It was Owen Schuh, at Receiver Gallery.
At any rate, Mark Porter's drawing machines, and his accompanying sketches, are part of a tradition of building machines to create artworks, and as is almost invariably the case, the machines themselves are more interesting than the works they produce. Porter's machines produced little more than watered-down stains on the walls, but watching them in action (or inaction) is worthwhile in and of itself. But what I really liked were the sketches or plans for the machines, which bore only a passing resemblence to the actual machines. They had a sort of kick-ass child-like quality to them, the way a kid might design his fortress-like dream house or the ultimate dinosaur.
Filed under: Art Talk Chicago, Monday Morning Quarterback
