This Friday we checked out photography at Stephen Daiter, glass at Ken Saunders, and then headed over to First Fridays at the MCA for the opening of Aspen Mays' UBS 12x12. Check out the snack report slideshow for Jeriah's thoughts on absinthe, snacks, and the yuppie meat market.
Saturday found us at Adam Ekberg's artist talk at Thomas Robertello, and Byron Roche's closing party. There was Jim Beam, box wine, good art, and good people. Check out the slideshow for the full scoop!
It's that time again, time for me to harangue you with my weekend's worth of plans. This is just a provisional list, I plan on cramming in as much as a can, but this is where I'm going at the absolute minimum. Busy, busy, busy. Come take a walk with me, my busy little bees...
Astute readers will notice a slight change in the name of the Snack Time Report. Don't worry, it's still about snacks! We've just changed the name a little so that people know that most of these snacks come from art galleries. New name, same great snacks! Like when Green Jello became Green Jelly.
This week's Snack Report is a special one: Patrick Bobilin and Cara Anne Greene's show "M155 4m3r1c4" at Noble and Superior projects bridges the gap between snacks and art. The snacks are art! The art is snacks! Well, some of it, anyway. It was awesome. Check out the slide show for the full scoop!
Saturday we're going to Thomas Robertello for Adam Ekberg's artist talk, Byron Roche for his closing (of the gallery!) reception, and Western Exhibitions for the opening reception of "Suitable Video." Sunday is Aspen Mays' artist talk at Hyde Park Art Center. Get out there and see some art!
On one of the recent free Tuesdays at the MCA, I decided to drop in and check out Italics: Italian Art between Tradition and Revolution 1968-2008. I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the show, which not only hung together well, but introduced me to many new artists, while reminding me of old favorites. There, were, as always, a few pieces I hated, and a few I loved.
This week's snack report features mini-wieners and mini-houses at Peregrine Program, punch and paintings at Linda Warren, and a new alternative space making a strong first impression with the snacks at its inaugural show, plus wine and photography at Barbara & Barbara and a reminder about what promises to be on of the most exciting events in the Art-Snack Intersection, opening tomorrow night! Check out the slide show for the full scoop!
Time for another round of Where the F*#K are YOU going? This week we've got international dialogs, tasty snacks, artist talks, and gallery closings, and that's just the beginning. Take a look...
This was Grace
Hartigan's response to the class, when one of my classmates expressed
an interest in painting the figure. Grace was my instructor at the
Hoffberger School of Painting at the Maryland Institute College of Art,
while I was a graduate student there from 2005 to 2007. Her response
was surprising, considering that Hoffberger had a reputation as a
figurative-friendly program (one of the main reasons I chose it as my
graduate program). Many of the graduate students applied with
portfolios including a lot of paintings of people, whether clothed or
nude, and some of them keep doing this kind of work throughout their
time there. Grace also authorized her students to hire nude models any
time they wanted, at the department's expense, a resource I only really
took full advantage of towards the end of my time there.
Editors Note: This piece hasn't made it online until now, but was intended to come out around Christmas, so keep that in mind.
by Annie Heckman
A few days ago I was making my rounds at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago when I came across a lit, scrolling Truism from Jenny Holzer:
THE IDEA OF TRANSCENDENCE IS USED TO OBSCURE OPPRESSION
The Truisms (1983), Holzer's distilled summaries of ideological viewpoints (not necessarily her own), do have a way of following you around and percolating in the mind. After running through moments in history when the idea of transcendence did serve to obscure oppression, I was left with moving lights, December, and the political implications of emphasizing existence beyond experience. Add to that some mistrust of power, and the role that a dominant holiday (Christmas) plays in the making of contemporary kings, and a vague understanding that we have quietly folded misery and suffering into the spaces around holiday displays. Since reading that scrolling line, I've been getting a grinchy, nasty, critical feeling that someone is shining our turd of a world on a grand scale every year. Awesome. THANKS FOR RUINING CHRISTMAS, JENNY.
After this troublesome de-centering of my already tenuous holiday spirit (I would rather call it 'wintertime attitude'), I decided to re-orient myself by going back to my comfort food of all holiday films: It's a Wonderful Life (directed by Frank Capra, 1946). Preserved in my memory are the many times I fell asleep during the bank-y middle part of the film, and then woke up to hear that adorable child identify the bell as an alert to the graduation of an angel. This time I would sit down with a screen full of Jimmy Stewart to analyze the movie for myself, as an adult, against the backdrop of 2009 and economic crisis, with an urge to synthesize an understanding of transcendence, oppression, and the holiday spirit. The next morning, an economic segment on NPR would round out some of my thoughts and remind me about the true meaning of Christmas. Let's see if my heart grew three sizes.
It's impossible, and overdetermined, to try to make an equation out of the film using Holzer's language, to say that A obscures the oppression of B. It is possible, however, to draw out some basic parameters using these terms, within the logic of the film: Old Man Potter behaves oppressively towards people, because he only cares about money and power. George Bailey thinks that everyone deserves a fair shake, and makes sacrifices to keep his small town livable and affordable. His behavior over the years produces an overflowing of good will from his friends and neighbors which, in his moment of need, creates the possibility for their prayers to reach up into the sky, in a strikingly literal image of transcendence: star-angel dudes twinkling and deciding to help George after hearing beautiful heartfelt prayers. His good deeds combined with the love of those around him create a moment of transcendence, of heavenly succor for his mind at a moment when he is contemplating ending his life. As Roger Ebert pointed out years ago, the piece acts as an inversion of Scrooge's awakening; instead of a scoundrel being taught a lesson about how bad he is, we have a virtuous person being reminded of his goodness at a moment of despair.
The idea that magic star angels could do the trick of suicide prevention is somewhat painful to me. While this personal point could be set aside, it is perhaps better placed in the center of my thinking: George Bailey's internal revelations, however supernaturally reinforced for the film, were bolstered by the actions of the people around him, with whom he had built a system of trust and financial interdependence throughout his (natural, material, money-shuffling) life. While Clarence the angel-in-training was helping George to discover his ongoing importance to the world, the rest of the people in town were looking for ways to help him out with something quite practical and earthbound after saying their prayers. Money.
THE IDEA OF TRANSCENDENCE IS USED TO OBSCURE THE IMPORTANCE OF MONEY
In Saturday Night Live's lost ending to this film, the importance of money wins out over the holiday spirit, when the residents of Bedford Falls go after Potter for the missing $8,000 that George's uncle mistakenly slipped to the film's villain. It was perhaps with this rabidly parodied but reasonable interest in financial justice that I felt my ears perk up Sunday morning when Tavis Smiley interviewed Bruce Marks of the Neighborhood Assistance Corporation of America (NACA). Marks describes his advocacy strategy as "non-violent bank terrorism," meaning he pressures bank executives and their families personally in order to influence negotiations so that his organization can structure loans for homeowners and buyers. If people can be personally kicked out of their homes over mortgages, he reasons, then it follows that bank executives can be personally inconvenienced, perhaps harassed, at theirs. While I'm still going through a stack of reading to sort out my thoughts on all the economic implications of NACA's work, hearing Marks describe their tactics gave me the satisfaction of watching Cinderella tell her stepmother to go to hell. This interview was one of many Smiley did this year to explore home ownership and the economic crisis, and the conversation contrasted starkly with cultural work of merry-making.
THE IDEA OF A CHRISTMAS SPIRIT IS USED TO OBSCURE THE COMPLEX INTERRELATIONS OF MATERIAL GOODS AND HUMAN GOODNESS
Smiley's series on home ownership left me with some questions on the holiday spirit: What could be more basic to a feeling of universal good will than trying to make sense of the bank-y parts of our lives, the everyday parts in between talking stars and angels getting their wings? Without placing all the pressure of a Christmas miracle on home ownership as a marker of American success, could we begin a conversation about re-centering the meaning of good will on systemic financial issues rather than charitable giving?
Transcendence may obscure oppression, and it may also be a distraction from some pretty mundane economic and social duties. It's a wonderful, natural, material, money-shuffling life.
Don't know home many of you've already seen this, but I just found it on Art Fag City. It is beautiful! I think we need a Chicago team in the Art Handling Olympics! God damn kitten pictures!
