--> Aged 67, SAIC photography Professor Barbara DeGenevieve died on August 9, 2014: ((http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/obituaries/ct-obit-degenevieve-20140825-story.html))
This month it's possible to see two shows which address Barbara DeGenevieve's legacy. The first exhibition opens at Iceberg Projects on September 12, 2015: ((http://www.thevisualist.org/2015/09/barbara-degenevieve-medusas-cave/)) The second exhibition opens at Defibrillator Gallery on September 26, 2015: ((http://www.thevisualist.org/2015/09/what-would-barbara-do/))
--> Born 1936, living Chicago photographer Barbara Kasten, Professor Emeritus at Columbia College Chicago, has an exhibition upcoming at the Graham Foundation. The show opens in three weeks, on October 1, 2015: ((http://www.grahamfoundation.org/public_exhibitions/5399-barbara-kasten-stages))
Organized by Curator Alex Klein, "Stages," which is the first comprehensive survey of Barbara Kasten's work, closed on August 16, 2015, at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Philadelphia: ((http://icaphila.org/exhibitions/6474/barbara-kasten-stages))
--> Anthony Elms, who worked at UIC's Gallery 400 and the Renaissance Society at the University of Chicago, joined the Institute of Contemporary Art in Philadelphia as Associate Curator in 2011. On July 22, 2015, Anthony Elms was named Chief Curator of the Institute of Contemporary Art in Philadelphia: ((http://artforum.com/news/id=53890))
Anthony Elms, Stuart Comer, and SAIC painting and drawing Professor Michelle Grabner were the three curators of the 2014 Whitney Biennial.
--> Recently, in an interview with the Journal Sentinel's Mary Louise Schumacher on May 8, 2015, Michelle Grabner confirmed her decision to leave Chicago and return to Milwaukee, Wisconsin: ((http://www.jsonline.com/entertainment/arts/michelle-grabner-marries-midwest-pragmatism-to-high-art-b99487928z1-303101401.html))
It's still possible to purchase the (former) site of Michelle Grabner's The Suburban gallery, along with the family residence on the same lot, at 125 N. Harvey Ave. in Oak Park, Illinois: ((http://www.zillow.com/homedetails/125-N-Harvey-Ave-Oak-Park-IL-60302/3807022_zpid/))
The price for Michelle Grabner's home has been reduced to $496,000. Contact Bad at Sports' commentator Richard Holland for additional details: ((http://www.beyondpropertiesrealty.com/team/richard-holland/))
--> Bad at Sports' blog has been updated only 4 times in the past month; three of those updates took the form of Stephanie Burke's "Top Pick" lists: ((http://badatsports.com/)) And Stephanie Burke's own "Art Talk Chicago" blog, which once contained the most comprehensive listing of visual art openings and events in the city, has been updated only 3 times since May 14, 2015: ((http://www.chicagonow.com/art-talk-chicago))
Do you recall a time when Bad at Sports' blog was updated--by a different author--every day? Do you recall a time when Chicago enjoyed at least six different on-line listing services, each of which was updated weekly? Kelly Reaves at Gapers Block? Karly Wildenhaus at On the Make?
--> Who HAS posted a list of gallery openings scheduled for September 11-13, 2015, the first weekend of the season in Chicago? Shockingly, it's Visual Art Source: ((http://www.visualartsource.com/index2.php/calendar/index/openings/_/_/IL/Chicago/2015-09-09/2015-09-12))
Listings are also provided by Chicago Gallery News: ((http://www.chicagogallerynews.com/calendar?tag=opening-receptions)) and The Visualist: ((http://www.thevisualist.org/)) and Chicago Artists Resource: ((http://www.chicagoartistsresource.org/events)) and ArtSlant Chicago: ((http://www.artslant.com/chi/events/list?listtype=openings))
I miss Stephanie Burke's "Art Talk Chicago" list. And I miss seeing Stephanie Burke and Jeriah Hildwine, together, at gallery openings.
--> Paul Klein hasn't updated his "Art Letter" in a year, since the last edition of Expo on September 17, 2014: ((http://www.artletter.com/))
--> Wesley Kimler's "sharkforum.org" appears to have disappeared from the web.
--> The Chicago Artist Writers on-line platform (read: website) received a $6000 grant from Propeller Fund in 2013: ((http://www.propellerfund.org/projects/2013-awardees)) And Chicago Artist Writers has published only seven articles in 2015. Its founders and directors, Jason Lazarus and Sofia Leiby, have both left Chicago: ((http://www.chicagoartistwriters.com/))
--> October 9, 2014, Matt Morris reported in Newcity that Roy Boyd Gallery would close its doors after forty-two years of operation, following the passing of Ann Boyd: ((http://art.newcity.com/2014/10/09/news-venerable-roy-boyd-gallery-closes-after-forty-two-years/))
That announcement, published nearly a year ago, didn't stop Expo's official preview partner Artspace from recommending Roy Boyd Gallery ("this gallery has serious Chicago art cred") on September 8, 2015: ((https://twitter.com/expochicago/status/641801422409977856)) ((http://www.artspace.com/magazine/art_101/artful_traveler/artful_traveler_guide_to_chicago-51630?fair_id=2))
--> Matt Morris announced his own departure from Newcity on July 16, 2015, having served as its assistant art editor since May 27, 2014: ((http://art.newcity.com/2015/07/16/eye-exam-leaving-saturns-return/))
Matt Morris was replaced by Elliot Reichert, formerly the Curator of Special Projects at the Block Museum of Art at Northwestern University: ((http://newcitynetwork.com/2015/07/06/elliot-reichert-appointed-art-editor-of-newcity/))
The Block Museum of Art at Northwestern University has hired Janet Dees to work as its curator: ((http://www.artforum.com/news/id=54670))
--> September 3, 2015, Newcity broke the news that on October 9, 2015, Anthony Hirschel will step down from his position as Director of the Smart Museum of Art at the University of Chicago: ((http://art.newcity.com/2015/09/03/breaking-news-smart-museum-director-to-step-down/))
Stephanie Smith left her position, as the Deputy Director and Chief Curator of the Smart Museum of Art at the University of Chicago, in 2014: ((http://badatsports.com/2014/exit-interview-stephanie-smith/)) More recently she's finished her work editing a text which treats socially engaged art in Chicago. It's entitled "Institutions and Imaginaries," and was published by the University of Chicago Press this past summer: ((http://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/distributed/I/bo19455096.html))
--> Through November 22, 2015, the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago has on display "The Freedom Principle: Experiments in Art and Music, 1965 to Now," as curated by Naomi Beckwith and Dieter Roelstraete: ((http://www2.mcachicago.org/exhibition/the-freedom-principle-experiments-in-art-and-music-1965-to-now/)) See coverage of the exhibition as provided by Robert Loerzel: ((http://www.undergroundbee.com/2015/08/09/the-freedom-principle-at-the-mca/))
--> Johalla Projects' Assistant Director of Exhibitions Tyler Blackwell is now Assistant to James Rondeau: the Chair and Curator, Department of Modern and Contemporary Art at the Art Institute of Chicago: ((https://www.linkedin.com/in/tylerdblackwell)) James Rondeau is the co-curator of "Charles Ray: Sculpture, 1997–2014," which runs through October 4 at the Art Institute of Chicago.
Nina Litoff and Erik Wenzel discuss "Charles Ray: Sculpture, 1997–2014," in the August 4, 2014, edition of "I Don't Hate This," their podcast: ((https://soundcloud.com/i-dont-hate-this/ray-charles-ray)) James Yood treats the exhibition in text, in art ltd.: ((http://www.artltdmag.com/index.php?subaction=showfull&id=1436491458&archive=&start_from=&ucat=43&))
--> August 11, 2015, Christie Chu reported in artnet that Sam Lipp and Luis Miguel Bendaña had reopened Queer Thoughts in New York City, after abandoning Chicago's Pilsen neighborhood: ((https://news.artnet.com/people/queer-thoughts-gallery-opens-in-nyc-323006))
--> Roxaboxen Exhibitions was operational in Pilsen from 2009-2013: ((http://southsideweekly.com/roxaboxen-an-obituary/)) Its founder and director, Liz McCarthy, has now enrolled in UIC's MFA program. She's also launched a new space: Slow Pony Project: ((http://www.thevisualist.org/2015/09/local-honey-their-their/))
--> In August of 2015, Filter Photo Festival announced that James Pepper Kelly was stepping down from his position as Managing Director. He's now enrolled in the Visual And Critical Studies graduate program at SAIC, while continuing his work with the nonprofit, digital print lab Latitude: ((http://us3.campaign-archive2.com/?u=bfde257352999ade2e60afaec&id=5c15e53ed8))
--> SAIC's Britton Bertran, proprietor of 40000 gallery from 2005-2008, left his position at United States Artists to become Associate Director at Carrie Secrist Gallery in July of 2015: ((https://www.facebook.com/109671369142593/photos/a.113410878768642.17791.109671369142593/724992824277108/?type=1)) The first show which he's curated, "Appropinquation," features Leslie Baum, Shannon Finley, Jamisen Ogg, Min Song and Dannielle Tegeder, and opens on September 12: ((http://www.secristgallery.com/exhibitions/2015/appropinquation/))
--> UIC's Claudine Isé has left her position as Executive Director of Woman Made Gallery: ((http://womanmade.org/thank-you-claudine-ise/)) And she reappears as Lead Curator, alongside her Assistant Curator Alexandria Eregbu, at the Chicago Artists Coalition for "The Annual," which opens September 18, 2015: ((http://www.chicagoartistscoalition.org/programs/annual))
--> Having left Rhona Hoffman Gallery for Galerie Laurent Godin in Paris, Sibylle Friche returns to Chicago in 2015 as Director of Aron Gent's commercial gallery Document: ((http://documentspace.com/))
--> Ed Marszewski, the personality behind Versionfest, Co-Prosperity Sphere, MARZ Brewing, Public Media Institute, Lumpen, and Maria's, now has a a low-power radio station in Chicago: WLPN 105.5 FM: ((http://www.lumpenradio.com/))
--> Chicago collector and graphic designer Jason Pickleman has opened a not-for-sale gallery, "Lawrence & Clark," for the purpose of showcasing what he owns: ((http://www.dnainfo.com/chicago/20150721/uptown/avid-art-collector-opens-uptown-gallery-where-pieces-arent-for-sale))
--> Rumor has it that both Bill Gross of 65GRAND, at 1369 W. Grand Ave., and Mickey Pomfrey of CourtneyBlades, at 1324 W. Grand Ave., have been forced to discontinue programming and relocate as a result of real estate development in the area they share: ((http://www.65grand.com/)) ((http://courtneyblades.com/))
--> Archiving material since September of 2009, The Visualist is an on-line calendar of select visual art events in Chicago, created and operated by Jenny Kendler, Chad Kouri, and Steve Ruiz: ((http://www.thevisualist.org/)) Steve Ruiz has left Chicago and moved to Cambridge, England: ((http://chicagoartworld.blogspot.com/2015/05/2015-steve-ruiz-on-leaving-chicago.html)) Steve Ruiz and Alex Bradley Cohen currently share a two-person show at Roots & Culture; it's up through October 10, 2015: ((http://rootsandculturecac.org/show/?id=109))
--> Three years ago, in September of 2012, a fire destroyed the studios of four Chicago artists: William J. O’Brien, Erik DeBat, Kate Ruggeri and McKeever Donovan. And Time Out critic Lauren Weinberg reported on that event and the benefit auction which followed: ((http://www.timeout.com/chicago/art/blood-and-fire-benefits-four-artists-who-lost-their-studios)) On June 1, 2013, Ebersmoore, the gallery which hosted Kate Ruggeri's post-fire show, closed: ((https://twitter.com/ebersmoore/status/331062743241211905))
Two months ago, in July of 2015, a fire destroyed the studios of four Chicago artists: Mike Kloss, Leo Kaplan, Ron Ewert and Caleb Willitz. And Tina Sfondeles reported on that event for the Sun-Times: ((http://chicago.suntimes.com/news/7/71/837774/garfield-park-artists-lose-extra-alarm-fire)) A successful "GoFundMe" campaign was initiated by Dana Bassett, three days after the fire: ((http://www.gofundme.com/d56xd6pspw))
Rumor has it that Leo Kaplan will open a new gallery, "Boyfriends," in partnership with New Capital's Ben Foch, in the very space at 3311 W. Carroll Ave. which was vacated by Edmund Chia's Peregrine Program. And New Capital, after a three-year hiatus, will again offer a regular exhibition program beginning November 1, 2015.
I'll continue to update this article throughout the weekend. Feel free to leave a comment below.
Showing posts with label Leaving Chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Leaving Chicago. Show all posts
September 11, 2015
June 29, 2015
2015: Patrick Bobilin on Leaving Chicago
Paul Germanos: Hold old are you? Where are you from? When did you come here? Is Chicago one of many stops on your journey?
Patrick Bobilin: I’ve decided that I’m too old to be in Chicago.
I didn’t begin with any sort of map, unlike many of the people who I’ve encountered in Chicago and abroad. Lots of people in the arts start off with some kind of drive, or some kind of medium that grounds them. Some people start off with a family member, or a loved one, or a teacher who inspires them. Others--most people living in the world--see art as a permanent hobby; even now, the term “hobby” runs a sad chill down my spine and across my hardened heart.
I grew up in New York, lived both in the city and in the country, and was on a path which led towards a respectable, but unremarkable, adulthood--till a meeting with Peter Edwards (now a friend for life) who took my interest in music and added the twist of instrument/guitar pedal/circuit building. I started then to understand that I could take whatever means were at hand and use them to express whatever I was feeling, and do so with an exactitude which I couldn’t when I felt limited by access, education and money. It’s always been about money and perhaps it always will be.
At this point, Chicago has become just one of many stops, because I’ve tapped into a way to earn a little bit of money, given my patience for learning and writing [computer programming] code. Now, New York is accessible. However, my interest in becoming part of the art elite has since waned: I went into great debt for three separate degrees in the arts, guided by the idea that the field was a meritocracy; at this point I’m both sad and confused that either: (a) many people still believe it is, or (b) it’s some sort of open secret that each art person is left to individually discover, to their own disappointment. Chicago will never be anything but a stop on anyone’s journey because we’re not all moving targets. Publications like e-flux seem to celebrate this. Good for them; sad for everyone else not in on the joke.
PG: For what did you hope when you came to Chicago? A degree? A job? What did you think that you'd find here? What was your first impression of the city?
PB: I came to Chicago after living in Berlin. I was failing at making it as an artist: competing for grants I had no hope of getting. And so I decided to get BETTER at art (lol) and applied for a few Masters programs. I got into everything I applied for except the one I really wanted: the Masters of Science in Visual Arts at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I kind of just wanted to throw it in the face of the kids I don’t plan on having when they questioned my authority: “HOW DARE YOU?! DON’T YOU KNOW I’M A MASTER OF SCIENCES?!”
There’s this vague suggestion in art school--which no one seemed to really pull apart--that if you didn’t become a famous gallery artist, you could always teach. And that seemed like the only possible and meaningful job after a graduate degree. The problem, to me, was always the attitude: artists COULD teach if they got in a jam, or needed the extra money, or had an in to help scratch their rent together. Chicago is full of people who are working as teachers as a result of their failure to achieve art stardom.
I love teaching. I’m happy for the opportunities I had, first as a teaching assistant and later as an instructor, at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and also with the non-profit CAPE. I know that I have limits when it comes to dealing with under-served youth, people who are always "Going Through Some Shit," but I made long-term connections with some of my students, and I’m grateful for that. However, I know they’re not long for Chicago. They’ll be leaving for better jobs, or at least better opportunities, like most everyone does. The boat isn’t that big. And with SAIC constantly expanding and widening its specialties and types of degrees, it has become the destroyer. One of many, but a destroyer nonetheless. Like nature, economies and creative ecosystems are about balance.
Chicago is a wonderful training ground for creatives. And now that I’m more involved in the comedy world, I can knowledgeably use that as an example: Half of all the people who've been on SNL have come through Chicago; and anyone who’s stayed in Chicago isn’t doing comedy anymore. The coasts vacuum out Chicago's talent; and it’s certainly not by the hand of god. New York and Los Angeles do the weeding. Chicago itself doesn’t seem to do any vetting; it’s a blessing and it's a curse. Chicago’s a city full of hard-working people who are sharpening their teeth and/or burning out. And it's better to leave while you still have the energy to do good work.
PG: Did you attend a school here? Which school did you attend? How long were you in school here? Did you receive a degree here? When did you receive your degree?
PB: I went to SAIC for two years, while running a gallery [Noble & Superior Projects] which I would call successful by attendance and notoriety alone. I got my MFA in film/video because it’s really fucking easy (no one fails) and then immediately went to Bard for an MA in Curatorial Studies. I was done with all of it by New Years Day 2012. Hard to believe it was only three and a half years; but that’s the story. Had some shitty jobs before and after; but they all run together. Paying to work for SAIC (via student loans aka financial aid aka is this the best you can do, America?) was the second best job I’ve ever had. Hampshire College was more fun, though I didn’t appreciate it at the time.
PG: How long were you in practice here? Did you enjoy success on your own terms? Can you recall some peak experience? If you felt frustrated, what frustrated you? Poor sales? Lack of publicity? High rent? Crime? Inefficient transportation? Public apathy? Bad weather? What was the total amount of time that you spent as a resident?
PB: I was in practice here from the moment I landed in 2009. I had no money, and so I subsisted on the goodwill (read: wine and snacks) of the many galleries in this city. A quick Google search led me to Stephanie Burke’s gallery listings, and I fell in love with the Chicago art world.
I had moved from Berlin where I was introduced to the idea of the apartment gallery (after only experiencing one other such thing: Gallery TK, in Northampton, Massachusetts--shout out to Lauren van Haaften-Schick) and I knew I had to have one.
I had things that I loved, and I hoped that I could put them together to deal with the things that I hated. The problem I saw was that all the apartment gallerists, and the artists in these apartment galleries, tried to maintain the posture of the "Real Galleries" that I had been to, and worked for. They tried to play farm team feeding into the "Real Galleries," with price sheets that said “NFS” or “Prices on request” because they were deluded enough to think that there was someone amongst their ranks who, beneath their ironic tattoos and cut off jean shorts, had enough money to support them. They were low-key capitalists, slumming it for as long as they had to, but ready to join the ranks of those shilling art to rich people for as much cash as they could get.
So the aim of my gallery--Noble & Superior Projects--was to take some of those lessons I learned from a decade working retail (e.g., greeting people, offering incentives, making everyone feel welcome) and put them into action in the gallery context. We didn’t sell anything and we didn’t want to. Every artist had to offer some kind of free and unlimited edition to guests. We had good beer and snacks. We said "Hi," to everyone who walked through the door--especially if we didn’t recognize them. We had some really giving interns, like Elliot Reed, who I still count as amongst one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. We also put a lot of work into branding and promotion. We had lots of people who weren't "Art World Insiders" coming to a private place because we tried to make it as public as possible.
I never felt part of a clique, as a kid or as an adult, and I don’t think that most people do. I never had money; but I loved art. I needed N&SP to be for those people. The takeaways were important: if not for the artists or the art people, they were everything to me. I still have all the leftovers. They’re like the family jewels. And we paid for everything out of pocket sure, but who cares. I was on food stamps, much like the homie Corinna Kirsch, and I usually spent it all on shit for the openings. I wanted people to feel welcome, and good food breaks all barriers. We’re not saints, and you should expect to pay for things out of pocket. Otherwise, take some fucking business classes. Most art people have no idea how economics work, and how most businesses work in a deficit for years, yet they want all the benefits.
The list of things that could have frustrated me have to do with public infrastructure. And if there’s one thing I learned about artists and, worse, freelance curators, it's that they don’t vote. They don’t typically pay attention to who their alderman is, what kinds of businesses pop-up in their neighborhoods, or who really lives in their neighborhood, because it’s hard. And sometimes it means that they (the gallerists/artists/curators) probably shouldn’t be there unless they dive into their communities head-first. The idea that “crime” could be a reason for leaving Chicago is absurd if you look at the people who populate Chicago’s contemporary art world. They typically open up shop as gentrifiers; and so if they’re the victims of any crime, they may well deserve it: flaunting their privilege even when they think it doesn’t exist. After 6 years in a great little mixed-income, mixed-ethnicity pocket of the city, I’m leaving because I don’t want to gentrify another neighborhood in an effort of “Creating A Community,” and I don’t want to work in service of the ruling classes via curating. I don’t plan on doing that anywhere else; but at least in NY and LA, the lines are clear. There are fewer snakes in the grass.
PG: How does Chicago know you? Does Chicago know you? Have you been misunderstood?
PB: Chicago knows me as either the benevolent dictator of Noble & Superior Projects (2009-2011) or as an art world terrorist via social media and my web series "What Am I Looking At?" with Ali Clayton. When I talk to the people who are soon to become the architects, because they have the will for power and patience for the work, my ideas are laughed off as barely legitimate. But I steal all of my ideas from economic theory and urban planning. So it might just be that these guys are too deep in the mire to realize where they’re headed. As neighborhood after neighborhood becomes gentrified, how many artists have to leave or move to the suburbs before they realize that their model of seeking cheaper rents and creating the same kinds of projects/institutions is a well-trained arm of the neoliberal free market? Lots of ugly buzzwords, sure, but shit is real out here: real people’s rents can go up because you want to take out a loan or borrow money from your parents to start a gallery whose only--failed--aim is to sell more paintings, "Because It’s Important."
PG: Was there an event which precipitated your departure? For which other city did you leave? What was waiting for you in that other city?
PB: There were lots of things that made me want to leave: other people leaving, seeing the same people over and over, seeing new people repeat the same awkward stand-offish attitude in new spaces, etc.; but most of all, it’s the disappearance of the apartment galleries: half of them disappeared, and the other half tried to "Become Legitimate," which meant getting grants, selling art, opening storefronts and just being another art gallery that’ll never be as important as anything in Chelsea. There was a shot and they/we missed it. We could have been something else.
So, now I’m going to New York for comedy and film-making, because art must be for the wealthy, and I don’t trust those people. And I see no evidence to convince me otherwise.
PG: Does Chicago look different to you since your arrival to it and/or departure from it? Do you have advice for someone about to begin what you've finished?
PB: I really believed in social practice when I arrived in Chicago. Wholeheartedly. Passionately. Deeply. But after becoming more politically involved, as I was when I was younger, I started going to protests. It really crested for me after the Eric Garner verdict came out: I was sitting at my desk absolutely fucking devastated. I couldn’t focus. I left work early and spent an hour on Facebook and Twitter looking for protests. I called my art friends and they all had excuses. I had shit to do too; but my stomach was in knots. I went and there were a couple of thousand kids and older people. I saw no artists there. I marched for three hours, my faith in humanity restored. They had a second protest a couple of days later. I went to that too. I had signs and took photos and got pushed around by cops. I ran my voice hoarse. And I saw no one from the Chicago art world, and I fucking remember people. Shame on you, them, us. We have failed. If our purpose is to make a vacuum to make vacuous art in, then we’ve succeeded. It's something Adrian Piper said, about how implicit politics serve the neoliberal agenda. My head hasn’t been the same. The art world taught me to soften my voice. But, why? because I might scare away the money? There are real people suffering, and there are artists who have a voice and they’re afraid to speak up. It’s too much for me. There’s nothing here to lose and that’s what’s beautiful about it: Chicago is the place to try to be and do everything and fail and still be able to survive and yet it feels stuck in the past at moments like this.
PG: Do you expect to maintain a connection to Chicago and its art world? What's your incentive to stay connected? Have you left friends or family here?
PB: As my teeth have gotten sharper, my art world allies have dwindled. I know that I have that ability to polarize a room for or against me, to make quiet and polite people unrecognizable to themselves. That’s my blessing and my curse. And it’s okay. I wish I was more likable but I also need to sleep without the guilt that comes with setting your past on fire with your ethics as kindling. Once a month I make something, say something or do something that results in an email from an acquaintance or colleague. It usually reads something like: “Hey, I think that thing you did/video you made/thing you said made a lot of sense to me, and I’m glad other people think that and have the courage to say that.” I take that to heart, and it gives me a little bit of gas to get to the next thing. But it’s also sad how many people stay quiet for the sake of losing friends or opportunities. But, guess what, your real friends won’t turn their back when they disagree with you, and you don’t want to be working for someone who thinks your ideas are shitty. Happiness is honesty. Even when it’s really hard.
PG: By what means do you stay abreast of developments in the arts in Chicago? Print? Social media? Visits?
PB: I keep up with what’s going on through Facebook and Twitter, and, when I can handle it, the "deleuze-bot" (shout out to Corinna again) art writing in Newcity and places like that. But Jason Lazarus recently had that photo of “All the artists in Chicago,” or whatever, and I didn’t hear about that; so at this point I might be out of the loop. And goddamn there were a lot of white people there; am I right? What bothers me is that that’s what Chicago looks like to a lot of people. This city is 33% black and 20% Latino.[1] You wouldn’t know it from a stroll through these openings though, would you? I’d come back, but I’d only take recommendations from Stephanie Burke.
PG: In the end, is place important? Is physical location a matter of consequence in 2015?
PB: Physical location is sadly important still. People tend to stay in their circle. Artists don’t look to the suburbs, to people not affiliated with whatever institution they’re affiliated with. There’s a chasm between SAIC and Columbia College Chicago, not to mention the University of Illinois at Chicago. And some ill shit goes on there. And the University of Chicago might as well be on another planet. Circles get too comfortable, and then they become claustrophobic; and that might be what causes some of the flight.
There’s nothing to do in Chicago but take risks. Meanwhile, all I see, read and hear, are low-rent versions of what’s going on in NY and LA. The art world is becoming collapsed. A friend who I met here left doing some really weird shit. He sent me photos of his new shit and it’s "So Fucking LA." It’s of a scene; not of him. People need to take some risks. Go to a comedy show, or better yet, an open mic. Watch people fall on their faces while drunks yell horrible shit at them--especially the women. And watch them bounce back. It’s so much more hostile than the art world. It’s much closer to reality. Which is why rich people love the art world and love being around artists struggling: for that taste of reality. It’s restorative. But in comedy, when one is having to defend not necessarily their work or their ideas but their very reason for existence in that moment of heckling, you realize how futile it is to have an authentic moment in a freshly painted white cube. You can’t predict audiences; and you can’t curate sincerity. It happens: and it’s ugly and it’s amazing.
PG: Was some important subject omitted from this query? Please introduce any additional material which you believe to be relevant.
PB: Ask me about my failures, not about how I choose to represent my successes. I end up coming off very Kanye-ish otherwise.
And I think you should be asking how academics frame the art world; plenty of fields function swimmingly outside of an academic context. This gets taken for granted in Chicago. No one, ultimately, cares about where you went to school--not if you’re doing good shit.
And ask about curating too, because this thing has become an out of control monster: with curator’s names coming before the list of artists. Do you see the producer’s name before Beyonce’s name? not in a million years.
But after two hours passed while writing this on my flight to London, I just noticed that my brow has been furrowed the whole time. Use Google to search for "Candy Lawrence," and watch everything that comes up. Search for "Ali Clayton" too. All is full of love, or some shit. I’m gonna listen to D’angelo and try to sleep for a few hours.
Xoxo
<3
- June 28, 2015 (C) Patrick Bobilin
Learn more about Patrick Bobilin's professional work (with Valentina Vella) at his site: http://gradientgrid.com/
Read Jeriah Hildwine's October 3, 2011 interview with Patrick Bobilin: http://chicagoartmagazine.com/2011/10/an-introduction-to-curating-a-conversation-with-patrick-bobilin/
Find the archives for Noble & Superior Projects: http://nobleandsuperior.blogspot.com/
Additional archives for Noble & Superior Projects: https://noblesuperior.wordpress.com/
See twenty "What Am I Looking At?" a/k/a WAILA videos, dated February 1, 2013 - March 6, 2015, in the following YouTube playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7TzOBRvOf5xYvFK2YQPADpQrfm2p6UBE
Portrait above provided by Patrick Bobilin; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication.
Edited by Paul Germanos. Apologies for errors and omissions. Contact using the information at right.
[1] The United States Census for the year 2000 suggests that Chicago is nearer to 32% Black and 29% Hispanic/Latino, with 32% of its population identifying as White and 5% as Asian. See table in "Households" section at the following link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Demographics_of_Chicago
Patrick Bobilin: I’ve decided that I’m too old to be in Chicago.
I didn’t begin with any sort of map, unlike many of the people who I’ve encountered in Chicago and abroad. Lots of people in the arts start off with some kind of drive, or some kind of medium that grounds them. Some people start off with a family member, or a loved one, or a teacher who inspires them. Others--most people living in the world--see art as a permanent hobby; even now, the term “hobby” runs a sad chill down my spine and across my hardened heart.
I grew up in New York, lived both in the city and in the country, and was on a path which led towards a respectable, but unremarkable, adulthood--till a meeting with Peter Edwards (now a friend for life) who took my interest in music and added the twist of instrument/guitar pedal/circuit building. I started then to understand that I could take whatever means were at hand and use them to express whatever I was feeling, and do so with an exactitude which I couldn’t when I felt limited by access, education and money. It’s always been about money and perhaps it always will be.
At this point, Chicago has become just one of many stops, because I’ve tapped into a way to earn a little bit of money, given my patience for learning and writing [computer programming] code. Now, New York is accessible. However, my interest in becoming part of the art elite has since waned: I went into great debt for three separate degrees in the arts, guided by the idea that the field was a meritocracy; at this point I’m both sad and confused that either: (a) many people still believe it is, or (b) it’s some sort of open secret that each art person is left to individually discover, to their own disappointment. Chicago will never be anything but a stop on anyone’s journey because we’re not all moving targets. Publications like e-flux seem to celebrate this. Good for them; sad for everyone else not in on the joke.
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| Above: Patrick Bobilin; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
PB: I came to Chicago after living in Berlin. I was failing at making it as an artist: competing for grants I had no hope of getting. And so I decided to get BETTER at art (lol) and applied for a few Masters programs. I got into everything I applied for except the one I really wanted: the Masters of Science in Visual Arts at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I kind of just wanted to throw it in the face of the kids I don’t plan on having when they questioned my authority: “HOW DARE YOU?! DON’T YOU KNOW I’M A MASTER OF SCIENCES?!”
There’s this vague suggestion in art school--which no one seemed to really pull apart--that if you didn’t become a famous gallery artist, you could always teach. And that seemed like the only possible and meaningful job after a graduate degree. The problem, to me, was always the attitude: artists COULD teach if they got in a jam, or needed the extra money, or had an in to help scratch their rent together. Chicago is full of people who are working as teachers as a result of their failure to achieve art stardom.
I love teaching. I’m happy for the opportunities I had, first as a teaching assistant and later as an instructor, at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and also with the non-profit CAPE. I know that I have limits when it comes to dealing with under-served youth, people who are always "Going Through Some Shit," but I made long-term connections with some of my students, and I’m grateful for that. However, I know they’re not long for Chicago. They’ll be leaving for better jobs, or at least better opportunities, like most everyone does. The boat isn’t that big. And with SAIC constantly expanding and widening its specialties and types of degrees, it has become the destroyer. One of many, but a destroyer nonetheless. Like nature, economies and creative ecosystems are about balance.
Chicago is a wonderful training ground for creatives. And now that I’m more involved in the comedy world, I can knowledgeably use that as an example: Half of all the people who've been on SNL have come through Chicago; and anyone who’s stayed in Chicago isn’t doing comedy anymore. The coasts vacuum out Chicago's talent; and it’s certainly not by the hand of god. New York and Los Angeles do the weeding. Chicago itself doesn’t seem to do any vetting; it’s a blessing and it's a curse. Chicago’s a city full of hard-working people who are sharpening their teeth and/or burning out. And it's better to leave while you still have the energy to do good work.
PG: Did you attend a school here? Which school did you attend? How long were you in school here? Did you receive a degree here? When did you receive your degree?
PB: I went to SAIC for two years, while running a gallery [Noble & Superior Projects] which I would call successful by attendance and notoriety alone. I got my MFA in film/video because it’s really fucking easy (no one fails) and then immediately went to Bard for an MA in Curatorial Studies. I was done with all of it by New Years Day 2012. Hard to believe it was only three and a half years; but that’s the story. Had some shitty jobs before and after; but they all run together. Paying to work for SAIC (via student loans aka financial aid aka is this the best you can do, America?) was the second best job I’ve ever had. Hampshire College was more fun, though I didn’t appreciate it at the time.
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| Above: Noble & Superior Projects logo. |
PB: I was in practice here from the moment I landed in 2009. I had no money, and so I subsisted on the goodwill (read: wine and snacks) of the many galleries in this city. A quick Google search led me to Stephanie Burke’s gallery listings, and I fell in love with the Chicago art world.
I had moved from Berlin where I was introduced to the idea of the apartment gallery (after only experiencing one other such thing: Gallery TK, in Northampton, Massachusetts--shout out to Lauren van Haaften-Schick) and I knew I had to have one.
I had things that I loved, and I hoped that I could put them together to deal with the things that I hated. The problem I saw was that all the apartment gallerists, and the artists in these apartment galleries, tried to maintain the posture of the "Real Galleries" that I had been to, and worked for. They tried to play farm team feeding into the "Real Galleries," with price sheets that said “NFS” or “Prices on request” because they were deluded enough to think that there was someone amongst their ranks who, beneath their ironic tattoos and cut off jean shorts, had enough money to support them. They were low-key capitalists, slumming it for as long as they had to, but ready to join the ranks of those shilling art to rich people for as much cash as they could get.
So the aim of my gallery--Noble & Superior Projects--was to take some of those lessons I learned from a decade working retail (e.g., greeting people, offering incentives, making everyone feel welcome) and put them into action in the gallery context. We didn’t sell anything and we didn’t want to. Every artist had to offer some kind of free and unlimited edition to guests. We had good beer and snacks. We said "Hi," to everyone who walked through the door--especially if we didn’t recognize them. We had some really giving interns, like Elliot Reed, who I still count as amongst one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. We also put a lot of work into branding and promotion. We had lots of people who weren't "Art World Insiders" coming to a private place because we tried to make it as public as possible.
I never felt part of a clique, as a kid or as an adult, and I don’t think that most people do. I never had money; but I loved art. I needed N&SP to be for those people. The takeaways were important: if not for the artists or the art people, they were everything to me. I still have all the leftovers. They’re like the family jewels. And we paid for everything out of pocket sure, but who cares. I was on food stamps, much like the homie Corinna Kirsch, and I usually spent it all on shit for the openings. I wanted people to feel welcome, and good food breaks all barriers. We’re not saints, and you should expect to pay for things out of pocket. Otherwise, take some fucking business classes. Most art people have no idea how economics work, and how most businesses work in a deficit for years, yet they want all the benefits.
The list of things that could have frustrated me have to do with public infrastructure. And if there’s one thing I learned about artists and, worse, freelance curators, it's that they don’t vote. They don’t typically pay attention to who their alderman is, what kinds of businesses pop-up in their neighborhoods, or who really lives in their neighborhood, because it’s hard. And sometimes it means that they (the gallerists/artists/curators) probably shouldn’t be there unless they dive into their communities head-first. The idea that “crime” could be a reason for leaving Chicago is absurd if you look at the people who populate Chicago’s contemporary art world. They typically open up shop as gentrifiers; and so if they’re the victims of any crime, they may well deserve it: flaunting their privilege even when they think it doesn’t exist. After 6 years in a great little mixed-income, mixed-ethnicity pocket of the city, I’m leaving because I don’t want to gentrify another neighborhood in an effort of “Creating A Community,” and I don’t want to work in service of the ruling classes via curating. I don’t plan on doing that anywhere else; but at least in NY and LA, the lines are clear. There are fewer snakes in the grass.
PG: How does Chicago know you? Does Chicago know you? Have you been misunderstood?
PB: Chicago knows me as either the benevolent dictator of Noble & Superior Projects (2009-2011) or as an art world terrorist via social media and my web series "What Am I Looking At?" with Ali Clayton. When I talk to the people who are soon to become the architects, because they have the will for power and patience for the work, my ideas are laughed off as barely legitimate. But I steal all of my ideas from economic theory and urban planning. So it might just be that these guys are too deep in the mire to realize where they’re headed. As neighborhood after neighborhood becomes gentrified, how many artists have to leave or move to the suburbs before they realize that their model of seeking cheaper rents and creating the same kinds of projects/institutions is a well-trained arm of the neoliberal free market? Lots of ugly buzzwords, sure, but shit is real out here: real people’s rents can go up because you want to take out a loan or borrow money from your parents to start a gallery whose only--failed--aim is to sell more paintings, "Because It’s Important."
PG: Was there an event which precipitated your departure? For which other city did you leave? What was waiting for you in that other city?
PB: There were lots of things that made me want to leave: other people leaving, seeing the same people over and over, seeing new people repeat the same awkward stand-offish attitude in new spaces, etc.; but most of all, it’s the disappearance of the apartment galleries: half of them disappeared, and the other half tried to "Become Legitimate," which meant getting grants, selling art, opening storefronts and just being another art gallery that’ll never be as important as anything in Chelsea. There was a shot and they/we missed it. We could have been something else.
So, now I’m going to New York for comedy and film-making, because art must be for the wealthy, and I don’t trust those people. And I see no evidence to convince me otherwise.
PG: Does Chicago look different to you since your arrival to it and/or departure from it? Do you have advice for someone about to begin what you've finished?
PB: I really believed in social practice when I arrived in Chicago. Wholeheartedly. Passionately. Deeply. But after becoming more politically involved, as I was when I was younger, I started going to protests. It really crested for me after the Eric Garner verdict came out: I was sitting at my desk absolutely fucking devastated. I couldn’t focus. I left work early and spent an hour on Facebook and Twitter looking for protests. I called my art friends and they all had excuses. I had shit to do too; but my stomach was in knots. I went and there were a couple of thousand kids and older people. I saw no artists there. I marched for three hours, my faith in humanity restored. They had a second protest a couple of days later. I went to that too. I had signs and took photos and got pushed around by cops. I ran my voice hoarse. And I saw no one from the Chicago art world, and I fucking remember people. Shame on you, them, us. We have failed. If our purpose is to make a vacuum to make vacuous art in, then we’ve succeeded. It's something Adrian Piper said, about how implicit politics serve the neoliberal agenda. My head hasn’t been the same. The art world taught me to soften my voice. But, why? because I might scare away the money? There are real people suffering, and there are artists who have a voice and they’re afraid to speak up. It’s too much for me. There’s nothing here to lose and that’s what’s beautiful about it: Chicago is the place to try to be and do everything and fail and still be able to survive and yet it feels stuck in the past at moments like this.
PG: Do you expect to maintain a connection to Chicago and its art world? What's your incentive to stay connected? Have you left friends or family here?
PB: As my teeth have gotten sharper, my art world allies have dwindled. I know that I have that ability to polarize a room for or against me, to make quiet and polite people unrecognizable to themselves. That’s my blessing and my curse. And it’s okay. I wish I was more likable but I also need to sleep without the guilt that comes with setting your past on fire with your ethics as kindling. Once a month I make something, say something or do something that results in an email from an acquaintance or colleague. It usually reads something like: “Hey, I think that thing you did/video you made/thing you said made a lot of sense to me, and I’m glad other people think that and have the courage to say that.” I take that to heart, and it gives me a little bit of gas to get to the next thing. But it’s also sad how many people stay quiet for the sake of losing friends or opportunities. But, guess what, your real friends won’t turn their back when they disagree with you, and you don’t want to be working for someone who thinks your ideas are shitty. Happiness is honesty. Even when it’s really hard.
PG: By what means do you stay abreast of developments in the arts in Chicago? Print? Social media? Visits?
PB: I keep up with what’s going on through Facebook and Twitter, and, when I can handle it, the "deleuze-bot" (shout out to Corinna again) art writing in Newcity and places like that. But Jason Lazarus recently had that photo of “All the artists in Chicago,” or whatever, and I didn’t hear about that; so at this point I might be out of the loop. And goddamn there were a lot of white people there; am I right? What bothers me is that that’s what Chicago looks like to a lot of people. This city is 33% black and 20% Latino.[1] You wouldn’t know it from a stroll through these openings though, would you? I’d come back, but I’d only take recommendations from Stephanie Burke.
PG: In the end, is place important? Is physical location a matter of consequence in 2015?
PB: Physical location is sadly important still. People tend to stay in their circle. Artists don’t look to the suburbs, to people not affiliated with whatever institution they’re affiliated with. There’s a chasm between SAIC and Columbia College Chicago, not to mention the University of Illinois at Chicago. And some ill shit goes on there. And the University of Chicago might as well be on another planet. Circles get too comfortable, and then they become claustrophobic; and that might be what causes some of the flight.
There’s nothing to do in Chicago but take risks. Meanwhile, all I see, read and hear, are low-rent versions of what’s going on in NY and LA. The art world is becoming collapsed. A friend who I met here left doing some really weird shit. He sent me photos of his new shit and it’s "So Fucking LA." It’s of a scene; not of him. People need to take some risks. Go to a comedy show, or better yet, an open mic. Watch people fall on their faces while drunks yell horrible shit at them--especially the women. And watch them bounce back. It’s so much more hostile than the art world. It’s much closer to reality. Which is why rich people love the art world and love being around artists struggling: for that taste of reality. It’s restorative. But in comedy, when one is having to defend not necessarily their work or their ideas but their very reason for existence in that moment of heckling, you realize how futile it is to have an authentic moment in a freshly painted white cube. You can’t predict audiences; and you can’t curate sincerity. It happens: and it’s ugly and it’s amazing.
PG: Was some important subject omitted from this query? Please introduce any additional material which you believe to be relevant.
PB: Ask me about my failures, not about how I choose to represent my successes. I end up coming off very Kanye-ish otherwise.
And I think you should be asking how academics frame the art world; plenty of fields function swimmingly outside of an academic context. This gets taken for granted in Chicago. No one, ultimately, cares about where you went to school--not if you’re doing good shit.
And ask about curating too, because this thing has become an out of control monster: with curator’s names coming before the list of artists. Do you see the producer’s name before Beyonce’s name? not in a million years.
But after two hours passed while writing this on my flight to London, I just noticed that my brow has been furrowed the whole time. Use Google to search for "Candy Lawrence," and watch everything that comes up. Search for "Ali Clayton" too. All is full of love, or some shit. I’m gonna listen to D’angelo and try to sleep for a few hours.
Xoxo
<3
- June 28, 2015 (C) Patrick Bobilin
Learn more about Patrick Bobilin's professional work (with Valentina Vella) at his site: http://gradientgrid.com/
Read Jeriah Hildwine's October 3, 2011 interview with Patrick Bobilin: http://chicagoartmagazine.com/2011/10/an-introduction-to-curating-a-conversation-with-patrick-bobilin/
Find the archives for Noble & Superior Projects: http://nobleandsuperior.blogspot.com/
Additional archives for Noble & Superior Projects: https://noblesuperior.wordpress.com/
See twenty "What Am I Looking At?" a/k/a WAILA videos, dated February 1, 2013 - March 6, 2015, in the following YouTube playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7TzOBRvOf5xYvFK2YQPADpQrfm2p6UBE
Portrait above provided by Patrick Bobilin; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication.
Edited by Paul Germanos. Apologies for errors and omissions. Contact using the information at right.
[1] The United States Census for the year 2000 suggests that Chicago is nearer to 32% Black and 29% Hispanic/Latino, with 32% of its population identifying as White and 5% as Asian. See table in "Households" section at the following link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Demographics_of_Chicago
June 14, 2015
2015: Corinna Kirsch on Leaving Chicago
Paul Germanos: Hold old are you? Where are you from? When did you come here? Is Chicago one of many stops on your journey?
Corinna Kirsch: I grew up in a rural part of Texas which was like suburbia, just about a 45-minute drive north of downtown Houston. I ended up choosing to go to Chicago for the Master of Arts in Art History program at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. But I’ve always liked Chicago; my dad is a Midwesterner. I arrived for my degree in 2007, and stayed a little bit after that. I moved away for good during a snowstorm in January of 2011. And a lady never reveals her true age.
PG: For what did you hope when you came to Chicago? A degree? A job? What did you think that you'd find here? What was your first impression of the city?
CK: Pretty much, I just wanted a degree in Chicago. A job--I’d take one anywhere. I came to Chicago straight from Austin, Texas. The cities are, um, very different. I didn’t have much in the way of expectations other than that I’d see a lot of art, meet a lot of artists, and hopefully become a better art historian. This is going to sound so "basic," but my first memory of Chicago was the sight of all the Art Deco buildings; coming from Texas, where everything is new, having some sort of history visible in the built-environment was incredible. Oh, that, and nobody else in my MA program smoked cigarettes. I’ve since quit.
PG: Did you attend a school here? Which school did you attend? How long were you in school here? Did you receive a degree here? When did you receive your degree?
CK: I attended SAIC from 2007 through 2009. I received my MA in Art History in 2009.
PG: How long were you in practice here? Did you enjoy success on your own terms? Can you recall some peak experience? If you felt frustrated, what frustrated you? Poor sales? A lack of publicity? High rent? Crime? Inefficient transportation? Public apathy? Bad weather? What was the total amount of time that you spent as a resident?
CK: Hmmmm. I thought SAIC was a great place to be in school. But afterwards I was running an apartment gallery and having a difficult time finding a job (this after working as a curator at the University of Minnesota). One reviewer came out to my space; and, while we were chatting, he ended up saying something along the lines of: “You’ve made it.” I wanted to die. I was working for just above minimum wage at an awful hair salon and paying for exhibitions out of pocket. I didn’t have enough time or resources to support the type of programming I wanted. All in all, none of that is what I considered “making it.” I was poor. I was on food stamps--a survival trick I learned from an artist [we'll call him Greg] who has since left Chicago. And it wasn’t just about being money-poor: I just wasn’t having fulfilling conversations on the state of the art world.
PG: How does Chicago know you? Does Chicago know you? Have you been misunderstood?
CK: Those are great questions. I have no idea of what Chicago thinks of me now! I haven’t been back in a couple of years--oh, I did visit last year for a conference--but I do try to stay in touch with what’s going on in the city by staying in touch with what artists and organizations are doing there. I love writing about Chicago! Let me know what people think of me when you find out.
PG: Was there an event which precipitated your departure? For which other city did you leave? What was waiting for you in that other city?
CK: This is pretty funny. I ended up moving because I didn’t think I’d be able to get an arts-related job. (That’s not a great reason to leave; but that’s what I did, when I was 26.) I went to New York because I had a place to stay for a couple of weeks for free--and because I was receiving unemployment insurance from my former curatorial gig. So, yup--it was mostly the unemployment insurance that let me move to New York on an $80 Amtrak ticket. And for some reason I assumed that there would just be more jobs available in New York. Now I love New York for different reasons. In part, I became a critic because I see injustices, whether aesthetic or political, in the art world. I wasn’t as attuned to them while I was a happy go-lucky grad student with the world ahead of her (I know!!!). It’s nothing you can predict until you’ve had that life experience.
PG: Does Chicago look different to you since your arrival to it and/or departure from it? Do you have advice for someone about to begin what you've finished?
CK: I’ve only been back once, briefly, for three days. I do remember being shocked that Logan Square [subject to rapid gentrification] looked like "Jocksville." My advice to anyone in Chicago would be to stick with it, and try to overcome the insularity of the SAIC world. Move south; try to be involved with people in your community who aren’t artists. Be critical. Be digital. Fight for the type of art world you want.
PG: Do you expect to maintain a connection to Chicago and its art world? What's your incentive to stay connected? Have you left friends or family here?
CK: No family. No close friends. Honestly, I just believe there’s a bunch of creative, caring artists and other people in Chicago; and I want to see them succeed however they see fit.
PG: By what means do you stay abreast of developments in the arts in Chicago? Print? Social media? Visits?
CK: I try to keep up with Chicago by being online.
PG: In the end, is place important? Is physical location a matter of consequence in 2015?
CK: Digital spaces are becoming more important. I’m starting a PhD in the fall, and I hate to admit it, but one of the reasons why I chose Stony Brook University is that I didn’t want to leave New York, at least not yet. There’s so much activity here that I end up going to panels, talks, and openings several nights a week--when I have time. I’m a country mouse at heart, though, and hope to someday write and blog from a place that I own. Maybe with a horse. I love writing about horses and art. But for the moment, I like the speed of New York. I like not having a car. I like public transportation which is reliable and frequent (sorry, Chicago). I like being surrounded by other workaholics, by artists and critics who see a purpose beyond aesthetics. Digital activism, too, is a topic that more people are comfortable discussing here than in Chicago, in my experience. Maybe that’s changed? New York is prohibitively expensive for most people. I wouldn’t work as many hours as I do--if I didn’t have to do it in order to stay here. So in that sense I definitely miss Chicago. I’d go back in a heartbeat if someone wanted me to teach a class on criticism, or blogging, or reporting.
PG: Was some important subject omitted from this query? Please introduce it.
CK: Just let me know if I can answer any questions more fully.
PG: OK. In Chicago, you were associated with two galleries--Concertina Gallery and The Exhibition Agency--which operated from 2009-2010 at the same address (2351 N. Milwaukee) in the Logan Square neighborhood. Is that correct? If so, were there any particular exhibitions or artists from that period of your life which are now memorable? What would have helped you, as an apartment gallerist, to continue to operate a space? Is it all, in the end, a question of money? Any thoughts on being on the receiving end of press coverage? Did it affect your work (inform your perspective) as a writer?
CK: Yes, that's correct. All of it was memorable: the good and the bad. Here are some anecdotes, not necessarily in order of importance. I remember getting poked all the time by Matthew Paul Jinks' spiky metal sculpture, which took up our entire living room. We'd have to tread carefully to get past it, just to go to the bathroom or kitchen. Ugh, and then there was the red glitter, left over from a performance, which we couldn't get out of the wood floors. (We rarely had furniture in the apartment so that we could have exhibitions.) The back courtyard was my favorite part, even though you had to walk down through the laundry room, there was a gorgeous backyard to escape into--as we all know, apartment galleries can get scorching-ly, sweating-ly hot. I remember having to negotiate with artists in ways I wasn't yet comfortable. School, studio visits, working in a gallery--none of it compared to having your own microcosm of a gallery/museum/laboratory all-in-one. Artists weren't always happy with the way their work was presented, or who they were put in a show with--that's the sort of usual stuff you'll always find. I take it back: My absolute favorite experience of running Concertina was on opening night I managed to find a professional concertina-player to serenade the event. He was a really nice guy, sat in a kitchen corner all by himself, and played us something that may have been a waltz. That's the sort of playful thing you can do when your project space is on your own terms.
PG: As a writer based in Chicago you contributed to Edward Marszewski's "Proximity" in 2008-2009 and Stephanie Burke's "The Gallery Crawl and So Much More..." in 2009. Is that correct? Were there other publications to which you contributed while a resident of Chicago?
CK: I think those were the only ones. Oh, and the SAIC school paper: F Newsmagazine.
PG: Is there a website in addition to Art F City which you'd like linked from the article? A personal site or another publication? Do you want to leave contact information?
CK: Sometimes I write for Vice. I'm also a reporter for The Art Newspaper. And I'm starting my PhD in Art History at Stony Brook University in the fall.
PG: You earned your MA at SAIC in 2009. Are there any classmates or instructors who had a lasting effect upon you? Do you keep in touch with anyone from school or is that a closed chapter in your life? Was SAIC worth it? Was it a good choice for you?
CK: Most of the friends I made in my program don't live in New York. I try to keep up with them on social media. I think I've probably become better "online friends" with some people than I was in real life. In the Art History department at SAIC, David Raskin is great, and totally funny. I was really scared of him at first (hi, David), but he's down-to-earth. Michael Golec and David Getsy, too. It's funny, but when I was in the Art History program at SAIC, I was nervous, I think, of speaking my mind. Maybe I was a little shy? I didn't take as many risks as I would have liked in my coursework, which may have been due to my shyness. (This is also related to the fact that I was working all the time I was in school, a bad idea all around.) With writing, and being a somewhat public figure (at least on the Internet), I've had to deal with all types of conflicts (like trolls and working with a variety of editors) that have contributed to me being a somewhat more outgoing person who's willing to speak my mind about aesthetics and activism. As for Chicago people, it's hard to say who I've become better friends with since leaving. Maybe Eric Fleischauer and Jason Lazarus? I saw them the last time I was in town. Dana Basset? There's a lot of really talented, down-to-earth people who live in Chicago, but who I wish I could see them all the time. In general, I like running into former Chicagoans in New York.
PG: Do you have any advice for a young person who's trying to work as a critic? operate a gallery?
CK: If you want to work as a critic, talk to me. But really, if you want to work as a critic I would say that the top five things I can think of are:
1) Lose the academic art speak. Write sentences that sound like they just came out of your mouth. The world does not need more Deleuze-robot criticism;
2) Go see a lot of art. I don't just mean where you are. You need to be online, on Twitter, and know what people are making everywhere. Always be sniffing out for artists;
3) Don't be scared to say you don't like something;
4) Sorry--here's a fourth. Do not bury your lede. This is my number one editor grumble;
5) Write all the time. Blog if you must. Even if you don't have an affiliation yet, you've got to write. Practice.
If you want to operate a gallery, just don't. There's already too many out there. Unless you're providing an alternative to the current art-as-commodity sales model, then don't do it.
- June 5-12, 2015 (C) Corinna Kirsch
Learn more about Corinna by visiting her website: http://corinnakirsch.com/
Corinna Kirsch is Senior Editor at Art F City: http://artfcity.com/author/corinnakirsch/
Read Michael Weinstein's 2009 review of Concertina Gallery: http://art.newcity.com/2009/11/02/review-anthea-behm-and-aron-gentconcertina-gallery/
Read Julia V. Hendrickson's 2010 review of the Exhibition Agency: http://jayveeaitch.blogspot.com/2010/09/review-uncrumpling-at-exhibition-agency.html
Image above provided by Corinna Kirsch; original artwork by Mark Dorf; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication.
Edited by Paul Germanos. Apologies for errors and omissions. Contact using the information at right.
Corinna Kirsch: I grew up in a rural part of Texas which was like suburbia, just about a 45-minute drive north of downtown Houston. I ended up choosing to go to Chicago for the Master of Arts in Art History program at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. But I’ve always liked Chicago; my dad is a Midwesterner. I arrived for my degree in 2007, and stayed a little bit after that. I moved away for good during a snowstorm in January of 2011. And a lady never reveals her true age.
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| Above: A portrait of Corinna Kirsch by Mark Dorf; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
CK: Pretty much, I just wanted a degree in Chicago. A job--I’d take one anywhere. I came to Chicago straight from Austin, Texas. The cities are, um, very different. I didn’t have much in the way of expectations other than that I’d see a lot of art, meet a lot of artists, and hopefully become a better art historian. This is going to sound so "basic," but my first memory of Chicago was the sight of all the Art Deco buildings; coming from Texas, where everything is new, having some sort of history visible in the built-environment was incredible. Oh, that, and nobody else in my MA program smoked cigarettes. I’ve since quit.
PG: Did you attend a school here? Which school did you attend? How long were you in school here? Did you receive a degree here? When did you receive your degree?
CK: I attended SAIC from 2007 through 2009. I received my MA in Art History in 2009.
PG: How long were you in practice here? Did you enjoy success on your own terms? Can you recall some peak experience? If you felt frustrated, what frustrated you? Poor sales? A lack of publicity? High rent? Crime? Inefficient transportation? Public apathy? Bad weather? What was the total amount of time that you spent as a resident?
CK: Hmmmm. I thought SAIC was a great place to be in school. But afterwards I was running an apartment gallery and having a difficult time finding a job (this after working as a curator at the University of Minnesota). One reviewer came out to my space; and, while we were chatting, he ended up saying something along the lines of: “You’ve made it.” I wanted to die. I was working for just above minimum wage at an awful hair salon and paying for exhibitions out of pocket. I didn’t have enough time or resources to support the type of programming I wanted. All in all, none of that is what I considered “making it.” I was poor. I was on food stamps--a survival trick I learned from an artist [we'll call him Greg] who has since left Chicago. And it wasn’t just about being money-poor: I just wasn’t having fulfilling conversations on the state of the art world.
PG: How does Chicago know you? Does Chicago know you? Have you been misunderstood?
CK: Those are great questions. I have no idea of what Chicago thinks of me now! I haven’t been back in a couple of years--oh, I did visit last year for a conference--but I do try to stay in touch with what’s going on in the city by staying in touch with what artists and organizations are doing there. I love writing about Chicago! Let me know what people think of me when you find out.
PG: Was there an event which precipitated your departure? For which other city did you leave? What was waiting for you in that other city?
CK: This is pretty funny. I ended up moving because I didn’t think I’d be able to get an arts-related job. (That’s not a great reason to leave; but that’s what I did, when I was 26.) I went to New York because I had a place to stay for a couple of weeks for free--and because I was receiving unemployment insurance from my former curatorial gig. So, yup--it was mostly the unemployment insurance that let me move to New York on an $80 Amtrak ticket. And for some reason I assumed that there would just be more jobs available in New York. Now I love New York for different reasons. In part, I became a critic because I see injustices, whether aesthetic or political, in the art world. I wasn’t as attuned to them while I was a happy go-lucky grad student with the world ahead of her (I know!!!). It’s nothing you can predict until you’ve had that life experience.
PG: Does Chicago look different to you since your arrival to it and/or departure from it? Do you have advice for someone about to begin what you've finished?
CK: I’ve only been back once, briefly, for three days. I do remember being shocked that Logan Square [subject to rapid gentrification] looked like "Jocksville." My advice to anyone in Chicago would be to stick with it, and try to overcome the insularity of the SAIC world. Move south; try to be involved with people in your community who aren’t artists. Be critical. Be digital. Fight for the type of art world you want.
PG: Do you expect to maintain a connection to Chicago and its art world? What's your incentive to stay connected? Have you left friends or family here?
CK: No family. No close friends. Honestly, I just believe there’s a bunch of creative, caring artists and other people in Chicago; and I want to see them succeed however they see fit.
PG: By what means do you stay abreast of developments in the arts in Chicago? Print? Social media? Visits?
CK: I try to keep up with Chicago by being online.
PG: In the end, is place important? Is physical location a matter of consequence in 2015?
CK: Digital spaces are becoming more important. I’m starting a PhD in the fall, and I hate to admit it, but one of the reasons why I chose Stony Brook University is that I didn’t want to leave New York, at least not yet. There’s so much activity here that I end up going to panels, talks, and openings several nights a week--when I have time. I’m a country mouse at heart, though, and hope to someday write and blog from a place that I own. Maybe with a horse. I love writing about horses and art. But for the moment, I like the speed of New York. I like not having a car. I like public transportation which is reliable and frequent (sorry, Chicago). I like being surrounded by other workaholics, by artists and critics who see a purpose beyond aesthetics. Digital activism, too, is a topic that more people are comfortable discussing here than in Chicago, in my experience. Maybe that’s changed? New York is prohibitively expensive for most people. I wouldn’t work as many hours as I do--if I didn’t have to do it in order to stay here. So in that sense I definitely miss Chicago. I’d go back in a heartbeat if someone wanted me to teach a class on criticism, or blogging, or reporting.
PG: Was some important subject omitted from this query? Please introduce it.
CK: Just let me know if I can answer any questions more fully.
PG: OK. In Chicago, you were associated with two galleries--Concertina Gallery and The Exhibition Agency--which operated from 2009-2010 at the same address (2351 N. Milwaukee) in the Logan Square neighborhood. Is that correct? If so, were there any particular exhibitions or artists from that period of your life which are now memorable? What would have helped you, as an apartment gallerist, to continue to operate a space? Is it all, in the end, a question of money? Any thoughts on being on the receiving end of press coverage? Did it affect your work (inform your perspective) as a writer?
CK: Yes, that's correct. All of it was memorable: the good and the bad. Here are some anecdotes, not necessarily in order of importance. I remember getting poked all the time by Matthew Paul Jinks' spiky metal sculpture, which took up our entire living room. We'd have to tread carefully to get past it, just to go to the bathroom or kitchen. Ugh, and then there was the red glitter, left over from a performance, which we couldn't get out of the wood floors. (We rarely had furniture in the apartment so that we could have exhibitions.) The back courtyard was my favorite part, even though you had to walk down through the laundry room, there was a gorgeous backyard to escape into--as we all know, apartment galleries can get scorching-ly, sweating-ly hot. I remember having to negotiate with artists in ways I wasn't yet comfortable. School, studio visits, working in a gallery--none of it compared to having your own microcosm of a gallery/museum/laboratory all-in-one. Artists weren't always happy with the way their work was presented, or who they were put in a show with--that's the sort of usual stuff you'll always find. I take it back: My absolute favorite experience of running Concertina was on opening night I managed to find a professional concertina-player to serenade the event. He was a really nice guy, sat in a kitchen corner all by himself, and played us something that may have been a waltz. That's the sort of playful thing you can do when your project space is on your own terms.
PG: As a writer based in Chicago you contributed to Edward Marszewski's "Proximity" in 2008-2009 and Stephanie Burke's "The Gallery Crawl and So Much More..." in 2009. Is that correct? Were there other publications to which you contributed while a resident of Chicago?
CK: I think those were the only ones. Oh, and the SAIC school paper: F Newsmagazine.
PG: Is there a website in addition to Art F City which you'd like linked from the article? A personal site or another publication? Do you want to leave contact information?
CK: Sometimes I write for Vice. I'm also a reporter for The Art Newspaper. And I'm starting my PhD in Art History at Stony Brook University in the fall.
PG: You earned your MA at SAIC in 2009. Are there any classmates or instructors who had a lasting effect upon you? Do you keep in touch with anyone from school or is that a closed chapter in your life? Was SAIC worth it? Was it a good choice for you?
CK: Most of the friends I made in my program don't live in New York. I try to keep up with them on social media. I think I've probably become better "online friends" with some people than I was in real life. In the Art History department at SAIC, David Raskin is great, and totally funny. I was really scared of him at first (hi, David), but he's down-to-earth. Michael Golec and David Getsy, too. It's funny, but when I was in the Art History program at SAIC, I was nervous, I think, of speaking my mind. Maybe I was a little shy? I didn't take as many risks as I would have liked in my coursework, which may have been due to my shyness. (This is also related to the fact that I was working all the time I was in school, a bad idea all around.) With writing, and being a somewhat public figure (at least on the Internet), I've had to deal with all types of conflicts (like trolls and working with a variety of editors) that have contributed to me being a somewhat more outgoing person who's willing to speak my mind about aesthetics and activism. As for Chicago people, it's hard to say who I've become better friends with since leaving. Maybe Eric Fleischauer and Jason Lazarus? I saw them the last time I was in town. Dana Basset? There's a lot of really talented, down-to-earth people who live in Chicago, but who I wish I could see them all the time. In general, I like running into former Chicagoans in New York.
PG: Do you have any advice for a young person who's trying to work as a critic? operate a gallery?
CK: If you want to work as a critic, talk to me. But really, if you want to work as a critic I would say that the top five things I can think of are:
1) Lose the academic art speak. Write sentences that sound like they just came out of your mouth. The world does not need more Deleuze-robot criticism;
2) Go see a lot of art. I don't just mean where you are. You need to be online, on Twitter, and know what people are making everywhere. Always be sniffing out for artists;
3) Don't be scared to say you don't like something;
4) Sorry--here's a fourth. Do not bury your lede. This is my number one editor grumble;
5) Write all the time. Blog if you must. Even if you don't have an affiliation yet, you've got to write. Practice.
If you want to operate a gallery, just don't. There's already too many out there. Unless you're providing an alternative to the current art-as-commodity sales model, then don't do it.
- June 5-12, 2015 (C) Corinna Kirsch
Learn more about Corinna by visiting her website: http://corinnakirsch.com/
Corinna Kirsch is Senior Editor at Art F City: http://artfcity.com/author/corinnakirsch/
Read Michael Weinstein's 2009 review of Concertina Gallery: http://art.newcity.com/2009/11/02/review-anthea-behm-and-aron-gentconcertina-gallery/
Read Julia V. Hendrickson's 2010 review of the Exhibition Agency: http://jayveeaitch.blogspot.com/2010/09/review-uncrumpling-at-exhibition-agency.html
Image above provided by Corinna Kirsch; original artwork by Mark Dorf; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication.
Edited by Paul Germanos. Apologies for errors and omissions. Contact using the information at right.
May 30, 2015
2015: Julia Haw on Leaving Chicago
Biography: My name is Julia Lynn Haw. I'm 33 years old, and I hail from Davison, Michigan. Davison is a small, middle-class city: fifteen minutes east of Flint, and one hour north of Detroit.
I began life as a blonde-haired farm girl with dirt behind her ears. I was a tomboy; I hated shopping. My family's land was near the edge of a fading, old swamp. And I spent the better half of my childhood there playing outdoors: climbing trees, collecting rocks, and scouring the freshly-tilled fields for arrowheads. I held swirling ideas of mysticism and fantasy, and carried an abundance of creativity with no reliance on the world of internet, video games or cable television.
My dad never used credit cards; he tore the collars out of his uncomfortable shirts; and he burned our family's trash in a huge stove in one of the many barns he built behind our house. My mom, now retired, was a fourth-grade teacher in an elementary school. I truly "made her feel like a mother,” in the words of my best friend, as I was very rebellious in my teenage years.
I was painfully shy in kindergarten, and I spoke as little as possible; my teacher asked my mom if everything was OK. I believe I wasn’t used to the confines of a classroom and received most of my inner guidance from cats and trees.
In second grade I got glasses: pink plastic glasses with a silver heart on each corner. I had a crush on a guy in my reading group, and I'd hide my glasses each time I went there.
In middle school I started to come out of my shell. Romantic and idealistic, I believed I was in love with boys without ever having spoken to them. I wore vests with sunflowers, and silver earrings which dangled. In eighth grade, I discovered the Beatles when I threw “Meet the Beatles” on my dad’s old record player in the basement. I obsessed over them, acquired bell bottoms before anyone else did at that time, flashed peace signs when I could and mourned the fact I wasn’t alive for Woodstock '69.
In the basement of our home I shared an art studio with my sister. I considered myself the black sheep of the family, and I maintained a slight inferior complex: constantly compared myself to my older brother and sister.
Then, in eighth grade I won best of show in the Davison Art Show. I had developed more faith in my personal work and continued to create with a VERY unnecessary ego. My new high school art teacher battled my ego, and had a "chin wagging" with my mom; but he appreciated my abilities, and I won a few more prizes, and I was invited to recite poetry at the annual art show.
In high school I got braces. I was a band nerd, having played percussion since the fifth grade. I went to band camp in the remote cornfields of Ohio, and I became very outgoing. I had friends from many different “groups.” I was at once an outsider and an insider.
I attended college at Western Michigan University. I switched my major a couple times: from fashion to photography to painting. When I was accepted into the painting program I knew that it was the right path for me. From 2004 onward, I developed a serious, professional interest in the world of painting. At WMU , the painters were tucked away in a historic building called East Hall, which sat on top of a huge hill overlooking the city. We blasted music late through the night. The walls flaked their lead-based paint; but that didn’t matter. We were the painters! With the help of the Gwen Frostic Foundation, WMU has since erected a new, beautiful building; it has huge sunlit studios and several large galleries. We were “roughing it" back then!
In 2006 I won best of show while in my senior year at WMU. I won for a slightly abstract piece entitled “Human Fodder,” which was painted with acrylic house paint over board and canvas wrapped in string. The piece honored fallen soldiers, and played on the term "cannon fodder," viz., a “derogatory term for combatants who are regarded or treated as expendable in the face of enemy fire.”
Expectations: I used to frequent a dive bar in Kalamazoo, Michigan, called Green Top. One night there I ran across a man named Mark Turcotte, who, in my opinion, is one of the best living poets today. He gave me a copy of his book "Exploding Chippewas," for which Tony Fitzpatrick had produced a cover.
I was deeply moved by the portion of that book called “Road Noise,” which dealt with Mark's grief following the the death of his estranged father. And thereafter I received a grant from the Kalamazoo Arts Council which subsidized a series of paintings based on Turcotte's literary work. I also had solo show at which Mark did a reading.
Mark guided me to Chicago, first by means of a visit to Tony Fitzpatrick's huge show at the Cultural Center in 2008. I was fascinated by Tony's work. And then Mark brought me to Tony’s studio; at the time, Tony was still working in the Bucktown neighborhood of Chicago. I had never before been to a working artist’s studio. I was blown away. Being a fresh 26 year-old, meeting Tony was a momentous occasion for me. A week away from signing a lease in Brooklyn, I scrapped my plans to move to NYC, and I came to Chicago.
Mark (Turcotte) passed through Chicago again, and he brought me to Tony’s studio a second time. Tony offered me a job. While in his employment, I expected to learn from him: a working artist. And I did have a number of opportunities made available to me. For example, at (curator) Dan Cameron’s Prospect.1 biennial in New Orleans, Tony brought in a few artists (including myself) and gave us our own wall in the old funeral home where he was showing work.
Through Tony (Fitzpatrick) I met: Claire Molek, Mike Pajon, Damara Kaminecki, KS Rives, Dan Cameron, Steve Conrad, Jon McNaughton, Dmitry Samarov, and Wesley Kimler. I also shared an Italian dinner with his friends Neko Case and The New Pornographers! I had never been a part of this sort of creative life before: here was an artist who made a solid living, and surrounded himself with a beautiful cast of characters. My eyes were OPEN.
After working for Tony, I worked for Wesley Kimler, and then Steve Conrad. I ran a household for a doctor and lawyer; I managed an art, wine and car collection for Carl and Marilynn Thoma; and, I learned to hustle. For the past three years I've been able to work for myself. I’ve shown art with Claire Molek (The Studio, Hauser Gallery, Brave New Art World), Illinois State Museum, Chicago Cultural Center and Jonathan Ferrara Gallery (New Orleans). I’ve enjoyed a considerable amount of press in the past few years, especially with my recently completed body of works titled “The Western Veil.” It, “The Western Veil,” has just reopened at the Illinois State Museum, Lockport. Currently I'm working on: (1) a body of work entitled “Comfort and Control,” (2) the release of my first artistic catalogue published by The Chicago Perch, and (3) a collaboration with Gracie Hagen concerning relationships.
School: I did not attend school in Chicago.
Activity: To summarize my time in Chicago: I've been in practice here for eight years. And I've enjoyed much, if not all, of my success on my own terms. I've had no representation--other than Claire Molek. The community here is amazing, and essential to me. My particular community includes artists and curators, as well as non-artists and non-curators.
I'm enjoying my peak experience right now, because my work is better and more seasoned than it's ever been. Having written that, I've had many frustrating moments in the short arc of my career, e.g., rejections, or showing in spaces that weren’t the right fit, and I've had periods where I had no sales and my anxiety was through the roof.
Notoriety: Chicago knows me via my work. Chicago knows me as a colorful, confrontational, and empathetic painter with a story behind every piece. The narrative aspect of my work has really hit home with many members of my audience. I feel I have been more understood than misunderstood, because I am simply sharing the common experience of every man and woman through my work.
I think “Power Pussy” was my most misunderstood or controversial work to date. It was a combative piece, created in response to George Baselitz’s statement in a Spiegel interview that “women can’t paint,” and it was accompanied by an essay with sexist examples from the past year. Women felt very empowered by that piece. I hear it has now been resold for triple the amount I sold it for, and I’m trying to find out who owns it as the seller hasn’t been in contact with me.
Departure: I leave Chicago often. I leave Chicago at least once a month--even if it's only for a short trip home to Michigan to see my family. I spent over six months in Australia this past year as I fell in love with a man who lived in Byron Bay, NSW. We traveled around to the Gold Coast, Sydney, Melbourne, Vanuatu and New Caledonia. I painted at the apartment when my partner went to work.
On my first trip to Australia I spent too much time in the ocean. The second time I went, I buried myself in a new series completing ten works; the pieces were rooted in new perspective, slight humor and of course my signature darkness. They're a departure for me and have been received well. Soon, I plan to head to Playa del Carmen, Mexico. Travel is essential for my work and overall health. It (travel) helps to maintain the perspective necessary for me to create; it opens my soul and vision to new worlds. I walk and I experience, I breath and laugh and cry. I need to leave Chicago in order to RETURN to Chicago, and to truly understand the beast that Chicago is.
Perspective & Connectivity: While traveling, and looking at Chicago from the outside, I better see the community we have here. I've established a family here. And we are hustlers. We get out and talk to each other; we attend each others' shows. Sometimes, when we haven’t had a sale, we don’t eat as much as we'd like. And when we have dinner parties everyone breaks off a piece of bread to bring home with them. Our work is different and strange, it comes from the gut, it comes from a blue collar, Midwest ethic.
I feel that positioning Chicago as an “underdog,” or a “second city,” striving to be like New York, is really cliche. We are our own beast. We don’t have to be anything else; and why would we want to be? Perhaps once we collectively realize we don’t have to be something else, or become more unified, or talk more, or show more, or open more galleries, or gain more press, we'll be in a better place. We ARE there. We ARE here. And we keep spiraling out into the global sphere. Chicago is its own entity, and it’s awesome.
Information: I stay up-to-date through regular visits, long talks with friends, and some online media sources when I’m away.
Place: I've developed a practice which allows me to work anywhere. And wherever I go in the world I will always return to Chicago, whether to live, or to work, or to show my art.
For me, “place” is wherever I feel I need to be at any given moment; in that sense, yes, place is important. That said, it's less-and-less important where an artist IS; the internet has changed things. What matters, now, is only that the work is created, and it’s taken to that next level.
- May 14, 2015 (C) Julia Haw
Learn more about Julia Haw and her work by visiting her website: http://www.juliahaw.com/
Images (1-4, 9, and 11) provided by Julia Haw; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication.
Images (5-8, and 10) above copyright (C) 2009-2011 Paul Germanos.
Edited by Paul Germanos. Apologies for errors and omissions. Contact using the information at right.
Amended by Julia Haw, on May 30, 2015, to preserve her idiom in text.
 |
| Above: Julia Haw, May 2015, Chicago, Illinois, USA. Image provided by artist; black & white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
My dad never used credit cards; he tore the collars out of his uncomfortable shirts; and he burned our family's trash in a huge stove in one of the many barns he built behind our house. My mom, now retired, was a fourth-grade teacher in an elementary school. I truly "made her feel like a mother,” in the words of my best friend, as I was very rebellious in my teenage years.
I was painfully shy in kindergarten, and I spoke as little as possible; my teacher asked my mom if everything was OK. I believe I wasn’t used to the confines of a classroom and received most of my inner guidance from cats and trees.
In second grade I got glasses: pink plastic glasses with a silver heart on each corner. I had a crush on a guy in my reading group, and I'd hide my glasses each time I went there.
 |
| Above: Julia Haw with Jerry Saltz at the Expo Chicago art fair, September 19, 2013. Image provided by artist; black & white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
In the basement of our home I shared an art studio with my sister. I considered myself the black sheep of the family, and I maintained a slight inferior complex: constantly compared myself to my older brother and sister.
 |
| Above: Julia Haw, 1996, Davison, Michigan, USA. Original halftone newspaper print reproduction of a photograph from The Davison Flagstaff. Image provided by artist; converted to black & white; cropped and resized for publication. |
In high school I got braces. I was a band nerd, having played percussion since the fifth grade. I went to band camp in the remote cornfields of Ohio, and I became very outgoing. I had friends from many different “groups.” I was at once an outsider and an insider.
I attended college at Western Michigan University. I switched my major a couple times: from fashion to photography to painting. When I was accepted into the painting program I knew that it was the right path for me. From 2004 onward, I developed a serious, professional interest in the world of painting. At WMU , the painters were tucked away in a historic building called East Hall, which sat on top of a huge hill overlooking the city. We blasted music late through the night. The walls flaked their lead-based paint; but that didn’t matter. We were the painters! With the help of the Gwen Frostic Foundation, WMU has since erected a new, beautiful building; it has huge sunlit studios and several large galleries. We were “roughing it" back then!
 |
| Above: Julia Haw's "Human Fodder" 2006, acrylic on canvas, produced at Western Michigan University. Image provided by artist; black & white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
Expectations: I used to frequent a dive bar in Kalamazoo, Michigan, called Green Top. One night there I ran across a man named Mark Turcotte, who, in my opinion, is one of the best living poets today. He gave me a copy of his book "Exploding Chippewas," for which Tony Fitzpatrick had produced a cover.
 |
| Above: Julia Haw with Mark Turcotte at Erin and Claire's, a/k/a Studio 1020's, "The First Ward Ball," an interactive community performance scripted by Scott M. Priz, July 31, 2011, at 3220 N. Lincoln, Chicago, IL. |
Mark guided me to Chicago, first by means of a visit to Tony Fitzpatrick's huge show at the Cultural Center in 2008. I was fascinated by Tony's work. And then Mark brought me to Tony’s studio; at the time, Tony was still working in the Bucktown neighborhood of Chicago. I had never before been to a working artist’s studio. I was blown away. Being a fresh 26 year-old, meeting Tony was a momentous occasion for me. A week away from signing a lease in Brooklyn, I scrapped my plans to move to NYC, and I came to Chicago.
 |
| Above: Tony Fitzpatrick with artwork, candid, at Studio 1020, March 27, 2010. |
Through Tony (Fitzpatrick) I met: Claire Molek, Mike Pajon, Damara Kaminecki, KS Rives, Dan Cameron, Steve Conrad, Jon McNaughton, Dmitry Samarov, and Wesley Kimler. I also shared an Italian dinner with his friends Neko Case and The New Pornographers! I had never been a part of this sort of creative life before: here was an artist who made a solid living, and surrounded himself with a beautiful cast of characters. My eyes were OPEN.
 |
| Above: Wesley Kimler, in his studio, December 20, 2009. |
School: I did not attend school in Chicago.
Activity: To summarize my time in Chicago: I've been in practice here for eight years. And I've enjoyed much, if not all, of my success on my own terms. I've had no representation--other than Claire Molek. The community here is amazing, and essential to me. My particular community includes artists and curators, as well as non-artists and non-curators.
I'm enjoying my peak experience right now, because my work is better and more seasoned than it's ever been. Having written that, I've had many frustrating moments in the short arc of my career, e.g., rejections, or showing in spaces that weren’t the right fit, and I've had periods where I had no sales and my anxiety was through the roof.
 |
| Above: Erin and Claire (Molek) at center, a/k/a Studio 1020, and Stephanie Burke at right, July 31, 2011. |
I think “Power Pussy” was my most misunderstood or controversial work to date. It was a combative piece, created in response to George Baselitz’s statement in a Spiegel interview that “women can’t paint,” and it was accompanied by an essay with sexist examples from the past year. Women felt very empowered by that piece. I hear it has now been resold for triple the amount I sold it for, and I’m trying to find out who owns it as the seller hasn’t been in contact with me.
Departure: I leave Chicago often. I leave Chicago at least once a month--even if it's only for a short trip home to Michigan to see my family. I spent over six months in Australia this past year as I fell in love with a man who lived in Byron Bay, NSW. We traveled around to the Gold Coast, Sydney, Melbourne, Vanuatu and New Caledonia. I painted at the apartment when my partner went to work.
 |
| Above: Julia Haw at Byron Bay, NSW, Australia, in 2014. Image provided by artist; black & white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
Perspective & Connectivity: While traveling, and looking at Chicago from the outside, I better see the community we have here. I've established a family here. And we are hustlers. We get out and talk to each other; we attend each others' shows. Sometimes, when we haven’t had a sale, we don’t eat as much as we'd like. And when we have dinner parties everyone breaks off a piece of bread to bring home with them. Our work is different and strange, it comes from the gut, it comes from a blue collar, Midwest ethic.
 |
| Above: Julia Haw's "The Fall of John Lease" 2010, 28 x 34 inches, oil on canvas, Collection of Sandbox Industries. Black & white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
Information: I stay up-to-date through regular visits, long talks with friends, and some online media sources when I’m away.
 |
| Above: Julia Haw's studio in use, in 2015, in Chicago, Illinois, USA. Image provided by artist; black & white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication. |
For me, “place” is wherever I feel I need to be at any given moment; in that sense, yes, place is important. That said, it's less-and-less important where an artist IS; the internet has changed things. What matters, now, is only that the work is created, and it’s taken to that next level.
- May 14, 2015 (C) Julia Haw
Learn more about Julia Haw and her work by visiting her website: http://www.juliahaw.com/
Images (1-4, 9, and 11) provided by Julia Haw; black and white (halftone) filter applied; resized for publication.
Images (5-8, and 10) above copyright (C) 2009-2011 Paul Germanos.
Edited by Paul Germanos. Apologies for errors and omissions. Contact using the information at right.
Amended by Julia Haw, on May 30, 2015, to preserve her idiom in text.
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