I Can Spell // Sorry, Time Out Chicago magazines

Artist applications for I CAN DO THAT are due in 1 week!

If you live in Chicago, you will be seeing this (or a variation of it) around. Most likely hanging at the eye level of a hobbit.

Note to ransom note-makers: The “D” was surprisingly difficult to find. Note to no one in particular: The figure is from a scan of a photocopy of a cut-out print-out of a scan of a print of an intaglio etching I made a few years ago. I am my own Richard Prince.

I’ve added new buttons on the sidebar to make it easier for you to follow me on Twitter, LinkedIn (which I desperately need to update), and more. You’ll be kept up to date with all that I find is interesting. And thank you for following / visiting this blog in the first place! Thanks to you, when I Google myself (don’t front—we all do it) now, I actually show up on the first page of results. Nothing short of a miracle considering there are about a billion (this is a fact) Jenny Lams in the world; I even know two others (one of them is an aunt of mine, but technically I came first, since she married into the Lamily). Continue being awesome!

Lucky 13 and More Numbers

Two show-related matters:

One: Beginning in October, via social networking sites, in person, and here, I’ve been asking you who you think is the most overrated contemporary artist. I’ve received over 100 responses, not including the responses to those responses in what devolved into some very strange feuds (photography haters? who knew?). My main takeaway from sorting through all the answers? It’s amazing how many times people misspelled “Damien Hirst,” and it’s amazing how many ways in which that name can be misspelled. In honor of the Friday the 13th opening date for I CAN DO THAT, I present to you:

Your Top 13 Overrated Artists:

13 – (tie) Andy Warhol, Elizabeth Peyton, Jackson Pollock, Karen Kalimnik, Lady Gaga, Matthew Barney, Peter Max

6 – Cy Twombly

5 – Banksy

4 – Tracy Emin

2 – (tie) Damien Hirst, Thomas Kincaid

1 – Jeff Koons

Thoughts on the results?

Two: The artist application deadline for I CAN DO THAT is two weeks from yesterday! Submit!

And two not related to the show:

Ein: Does art school matter? Find out with the artists behind The Drop Out Kids in my latest piece for Sixty Inches From Center (Part II to this article).

Zwei: Flight tickets booked! This artist will be on the lam in: Beijing 5/4 – 5/9, Shanghai 5/9 – 5/15, and Hong Kong 5/15 – 5/22. I’ll be visiting artist studios, art galleries, art fairs, and more, and I’ll be sharing my shenanigans with you while I’m there in Hong Kong and back in the States (a plague o’ both your houses, Great Firewall! ETA after returning from the trip: there are ways around it!). …I’ll also be in the Ladies’ Market haggling for more of those $3 plastic red watches that stop working after several weeks and at this point are pretty much just chunky bracelets with numbers on them.

And it starts

If you check this blog regularly even when I haven’t made a new post (and for that I love you), you might’ve noticed some changes to the row of tabs above. The reason?

My next show, I CAN DO THAT!

Everyone: Save the date. The show opens Friday the 13^th, April 2012.

Artists / “artists”: Currently accepting submissions until March 5. Check out the open call and apply here.

Everyone again / “everyone” / “again”?: Spread the word. Invite yourself to the event and then invite your friends / acquaintances / random people whose Facebook friend requests you reluctantly accepted. This is going to be good.

Of cool-makers and rule-breakers / Words

For those who celebrate the [best] holiday [of the year], I hope you had a grand Chinese New Year. For those who don’t celebrate, I still hope you had a grand Chinese New Year. Because even if you don’t believe in the lunar calendar, the lunar calendar believes in you. Or something.

Since I’ve been asked, I thought I’d clear things up: yes, I write all my own press releases and anything else that involves, well, words. (Which means, yes, I sometimes refer to myself in the third person.) (You, too, can have press releases written about you in the third person! That’s one of my services! Shameless self-promotion! But not really because this is my blog!)

On the subject of writing, check out my latest Sixty Inches From Center article here and take a look inside Arow, a new artist collective that’ll convince you all is right with the world. Or, at least, with Chicago’s underground art scene and all its crazy cool kids.

Most importantly, stay tuned for an announcement regarding my next show! As with Exquisite Corpse, there will be an open call for artists. Excitement. 

Winging It, in the Modern— / People’s Choice

Last month on a Thursday evening before the holidays, I stood in the middle of the Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago, straight-up looking like a high-schooler working on a class assignment (I should probably forgo my trademark neon dunks and $3 plastic red watch when interacting with strangers who aren’t given clues that suggest the contrary…), and asked museum visitors the following two questions:

“Who, in your opinion, is the most overrated contemporary artist?”

“On the flip side, what would you like to see in a major museum or gallery show consisting of contemporary art? What are the kinds of things you’d like to see in major institutions?”

Here’s what they had to say:

(Some survey-ees didn’t answer the first question. Hmmm.)

Would like to see: (R) Anything that is interactive and very real, something you can actually be involved with. It seems like so many things in museums are always “don’t touch” or “steer clear.” Something that you can actually interact with would be kind of cool.

Would like to see: (L) Ancient items. Modern art [tends to be] difficult to understand.

Would like to see: I’m very big on still lifes. A lot of shadows, not a lot of color. Just basic colored pencils or graphites to kind of depict the different values. Something simple that kind of shows the artist’s soul, something very descriptive that can just move a person. Very provocative, very thought-provoking. Not over-done.

(We then proceeded to fawn over literature and poetry.)

(The gentleman requested to have his and his wife’s photograph taken in front of the Thomas Schütte sculpture.)

Overrated: (R) Andy Warhol.

Would like to see: (R) Characteristic pieces right from the pre-historic on up to the 1950s, Rothko, maybe stopping there. A little bit into the early ‘60s, but Rothko was the last one that I really appreciate, although I do like some contemporary pieces.

Overrated: (R) Andy Warhol. He’s talented, but so many people want to read so much into it because it’s just so easy to digest and because it’s Pop Art, you know? So people want to be like, “Oh that guy’s unbelievable.” And he’s good. I mean, there are parts of it that I do like, but you’ve seen it so many times.

Would like to see: (R) I’m always a really big fan of photorealism. It’s not like it’s the most amazing form of art, but I don’t see a ton of it in art museums. And I do like abstraction—big Kandinsky fan.

(We all subsequently geeked out over the museum’s Arms & Armor section. They proposed a “modern update” to make it even better.)

Overrated: Those kinds of paintings that are just one color on a canvas. I don’t know the specific artist, but where it’s just two colors, and I’m like, “I could’ve done that.”

Would like to see: More textiles. Textiles are my favorite.

Overrated: (L) I would say Cy Twombly.

(R) Peter Max.

Would like to see: (R) Impressionism.

(L) I kind of like the modern art. I’m getting to appreciate it. It reflects this time that we’re living in right now. Just like with the Impressionists, I’m quite certain that, in their times, people didn’t accept what they were doing.

Overrated: I’m a little underwhelmed with a lot of the Walker in Minneapolis. Like the landlord collection, John [Waters] or something like that. I just didn’t understand it at all.

Would like to see: Photography.

A little more of a throwback to adding more styles of old, more Renaissance, mixed with new mediums. I just don’t see any of that. It’s strictly new and it’s so avant garde that I’d like a mix of media.

As a bonus, I also surveyed the buddy who got me into the museum for free… (Thanks, Kris!)

Overrated: Damien Hirst. That guy’s bullshit. I also think Banksy’s very overrated.

Would like to see: It’d be more interesting for the major museums and galleries to at least give some space and time to people who aren’t necessarily selling a lot of stuff. Don’t get me wrong; you’re going to get a lot of crap, but that’s always true. Everything’s mostly crap, but eventually you might find something good in the crap. These boards tend to be the same sort of people everywhere. They sell themselves on what’s good and what isn’t, so it’s an echo chamber, so you always get what somebody in that group says is cool, and then everybody wants to seem cool so they go along with it. Getting something outside of that would be nice, and that could be anything from… I don’t want to say “outsider art,” because I think that got really clichéd for a bit, but there’s stuff being done that isn’t being seen by people—not because they’re outsiders, but because it’s hard to get an audience. So I’d like to see some new stuff. I’ll fully admit most of it will probably be garbage, but every once in a while something will be cool.

Anyone you agree with? Anyone you’d like to vehemently debate? Any other artists you’d like to add to the list? Any other kinds of art you love and wish more people loved?

Also, because of all this shit-talking, Jeff Koons and Damien Hirst are now turning up in my Gmail ads. Goddamnit, Google.

A [Half] Year in Review? / Thank you, June–December, 2011

Most blogs are probably taking a nostalgic look back at 2011, posting highlights, making tiresome Top 10 lists… That won’t happen here. Which I’d like to say is because this blog is Different. With a capital D. And it is. But mostly it’s because I began this blog and business in June. But really, although this whirlwind started six short months ago, [the latter half of] 2011 has been a great adventure, and I thank you all for being a part of it.

Tonight, we bid adieu to an incredible year. A year of exciting change in the art world, of global awakening and revolution, of the Otis scream and a Common / Drake feud that came out of nowhere but was nonetheless amusing on multiple levels.

Here’s to an even better year. (At the very least, it’ll be the year of the geek. Seriously, the upcoming blockbusters look glorious. Prometheus? The Dark Knight Rises? The Hobbit? Just… oh man. Hold me, Gandalf.) From my end, you’ll be getting a new art show that will blow. your. mind (overhyping it? perhaps, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take), in-depth and firsthand looks into the latest art both from this gritty little city by the lake and around the world (travel destinations will include Hong Kong, Beijing, Shanghai, Basel), and more, and that’s just this Spring and Summer.

Enjoy New Year’s Eve and Day, and see you in 2012!

A Call for a Global Art History / It’s not all about you, dude

Before I get to the main point of today’s post: Three of my articles made Sixty Inches From Center’s Top 10 Most Read Articles of 2011 list, and I only joined SIFC in the Spring. THANK YOU for reading all the crazy things I write! Make sure you check out my latest piece, “Text, Drugs, and Rock & Roll // PART I.” (Part II will be live on Monday.)

Speaking of Sixty, last week, at WBEZ and SIFC’s “What’s Your Art? Celebrating the Art Centers of Chicago” event at the Chicago Cultural Center, a visitor approached me (“I know you! You put on the show where the woman rolled around on the floor!”), introduced himself (Dubi Kaufmann, who took a few photos of said woman rolling around on the floor), and told me that Exquisite Corpse inspired him to start his own project that engages artist collaboration. Like this audience reaction letter, it made my day. Thank you, Dubi.

On to a different kind of center… Let’s discuss the de-centering of art history, the need to expand mainstream art history’s focus beyond its Eurocentric bent. I came across The Art History Newsletter, which published “Art Historian, Globalize Thyself” yesterday:

Globalizing art history is “the most urgent task now facing art historians,” says David Carrier, professor at Case Western Reserve University. [...] Art history has moved beyond its blatantly Eurocentric, colonialist origins, when all non-Western art was considered “primitive”—if it was considered at all—but scholars say that serious problems remain. They note that Intro to Art History textbooks may now boast chapters on, say, “Monumental Olmec Sculpture” and “The Buddhist Temples of Korea,” but those make little impact alongside the books’ central narratives, which as always celebrate the long march of Western art from the Greek kouros to Jeff Koons.

To state the obvious, by limiting art history to the West, we severely limit ourselves. Obviously. What’s more, however, is that broadening our perspectives can allow us to re-examine and re-structure our established frameworks, to see our own world through a new—and better—lens. Take, for instance, the essence of Modernism itself. I can never get over how so much ancient Chinese art looks downright Modern—in the economy of line, in the minimalism, in the symbolism, in the abstraction. (In a similar vein are Tantric paintings from 17^th C. India:)

Image via NYT.

But then, in the article, things take a turn toward the problematic / offensive…

Elkins doubts we can write a truly global art history until non-Western countries start writing more of their own art history—they currently do very little, as he’s shown. Even then, he says, art history will remain “in its basic structure and institutional habits, permanently Western.” He notes that non-Westerners who take up art history typically imitate Western models and goes further to say, “The very idea of writing an art history of some country or region is Western.”

·         Yeah, no. The onus shouldn’t be on “non-Western” (an inherently imperialist term, making the West the norm and everything else something that deviates from that norm) cultures to write more about their respective art histories (which they already do). Rather, Western institutions should be the ones providing such educational platforms. Look at languages: learning English is often mandatory in primary schools throughout the world. Many Americans, meanwhile, know only one language (and it ain’t Urdu).

This insularity is not a problem limited to the primary school system. My alma mater, Columbia University, prides itself on its Core Curriculum—which might as well be called Kids, Let’s Talk About Dead White Men—comprising courses like Literature Humanities in which, if you’re lucky, a token or two (Jane Austen and/or Virginia Woolf) might be thrown into the mix. There is a Major Cultures requirement, but students must choose and specialize in one particular region (e.g. Africa, Asia, the Middle East). For art majors, one of the requirements is 20^th Century Art, and although it was one of my favorite classes (because it’s not like I’m into contemporary art or anything…), it really should be renamed White People In 20^th C. America And Europe And Not Even A Cameo By Basquiat.

·         History-writing / documentation is not a Western invention.

·         Etc.

What are your thoughts on the subject? If you’ve studied (or are simply interested in) art history, what has your experience been like?

Survey monkeys

If you’re here because I approached / grabbed / rudely interrupted you at the Art Institute Thursday evening… hello and welcome!

Your thoughts will be shared in the near future, but not until I disrupt the lives of more innocent strangers.

And for everyone else reading this: worry not, friend—it will all make sense in due time.

“Sense.”

Welcome to Miami, bienvenido a Mi—[C CHECK]

“Art can help us to envision the new cultural images we need to grow our souls.”

While many in the art world descend upon Miami for Art Basel this week… I’m reading The Next American Revolution: Sustainable Activism for the Twenty-First Century by Grace Lee Boggs, and, as I am wont to do, have been finding connections to art and the value of art:

In this period, we need artists to create new images that will liberate us […] and open up space in our hearts and minds to imagine and create another America that will be viewed by the world as a beacon rather than as a danger.

Art / culture and progress / [r]evolution are interminably intertwined. To the Occupy movement, she has the following message:

You have the opportunity to create something new. […] You must not be satisfied with rebellion. We need revolution. Revolution means reinventing culture.

Such is the role of art and the artist.

Art = Life

The last discussion presented art as a vehicle for revolution and change, as the channel through which the people make their voices heard. Rather than letting some bureaucracy-obeying art world sycophant churn out an offensively predictable Top 10 artists list that’s supposed to, somehow, tell you what he thinks you should like… Who and what do you want to see gain more exposure? What kind of art or which artists represent you? (To keep things organized, discuss over here.)

And now for this week’s discussion: I interviewed artist Martin Bernstein for Sixty Inches From Center, and here are some gems from our conversation (and good advice to boot):

Photo by Andrew Roddewig, 2011.

On art:

Art is a consciousness. [...] It’s a way of life. It’s a way of looking at every single nanosecond of every day.

On great art:

Great art isn’t something that gives you all the answers; it’s a starting point for you to then question. [...] You’re always learning. You always have to push towards something you don’t know.

On the value of traveling:

The road taught me: open your eyes right now, because what you are seeing or doing or thinking is gone, and now there’s a new “right now,” and that’s gone, and now there’s a new “right now,” and you keep moving through… Well that’s life. And it’s right now.

On not only knowing yourself, being yourself, and sticking to it…

Principle is all you’ve got in the end, and so you really have to find the basic code of how you want to live, and all your work and all the things you say and do should fit that perfectly. [...] Especially as an artist and they are constantly telling you no. [...] We look outside of ourselves to define ourselves when we [are young]. It’s kind of a parabolic curve of life to me, and somewhere in the middle when we get to our 30s, we start to go, “Wait a minute. It’s not them. It’s me.” You start to realize that you sort of colored in the all the surrounding areas, and now it’s time to fill in this figure that’s sort of the shadow. You start to fill it in.

…but also having faith in yourself:

 I just trust that I’m on the right path, that I’m doing the right thing at the right time, and if I don’t feel that, I’m willing to turn around on a dime.

More wisdom here.

For many of us, art was our first [and only—shhhh] love. To ask an artist if she could do without creating is like asking someone if she could do without breathing, or if she could log in to Facebook and log out within five minutes (it’s impossible). This question applies to everyone, artists and collectors and art appreciators alike: When did you first fall in love with art? When did you know you wanted it to be a part of—no—to be your life?

Viva la Revolución / Hey art’s pretty important, you guys

“This society—American society—does not value the arts.”

True words from Patric McCoy, President and Co-Founder of Diasporal Rhythms, as well as one of the panelists at “Creating Community through the Arts,” a discussion I attended a couple weeks ago. The conversation was a breath of fresh air. Saying the things we all want to say but are often hesitant to say out loud, the panelists pulled no punches, dispelling and deconstructing misconceptions and myths about art and artists, taking on America’s lack of funding for the arts and arts education; and, most importantly, offering grassroots level solutions to the problems addressed.

American society at large may not value the arts, but one cannot deny how indispensable the arts are to American society.

“Arts are essential for democracy. […] The arts teach people to think freely.” –Panelist Carlos Tortolero, Executive Director of the National Museum of Mexican Art.

Here’s an excerpt from my write-up of the panel discussion on Sixty Inches From Center:

Patric McCoy: I’m seeing that the energy is actually in the subcultures, and that it really is a bottom-up phenomenon. [...] What we have is a top-down process, is that the Art Institute, the Museum of Contemporary Art, the art critics, and so forth [...] tell you who is good, instead of you telling them who is good. All of our community should be working to promote… should be telling you, “This is who we think is good in this part of the city,” and it bubbles up. I think it’s most prevalent in visual arts. [...] In the musical arts, we don’t have a problem in America that it comes up from the bottom. [...] Hip hop can start in the Bronx, gospel in the South Side of Chicago… we don’t have a problem with that, that eventually, it gets up to the top and it becomes “America.”

Carlos Tortolero: It becomes “America” from the powers that be, and I think the real problem is that the power structure has created an “either/or” situation, and I want to create an “and” situation, where the mariachi music is good, classical music is good, hip hop… it’s all good. It should be an “and” situation where we embrace all forms of art, in which all forms of art are valued.

Luis DeLaTorre: [...] Do you think it’s because music is a very rich commodity, that people can trade easily, and make money off of, and art isn’t seen that way?

PM: That has to do with power, and that the visual arts are associated with power. Imagery is extremely powerful.

When it comes to working within one’s subculture(s) and inciting change from the bottom up, panelist Giselle Mercier, an installation artist from Panama and the Executive Director of Pros Arts Studio, pointed out that anyone can be a patron of the arts, that “it has to be a collective force and can’t be just from people who have means.” She explained that, instead of purchasing a $3 cup of coffee for one day every week, one can donate to a local museum (or, as I’ll interject, invest in a great piece of artwork).

Technology was another topic that was raised, framed initially as another problem (think bookstores-might-be-going-bankrupt-because-of-tablets problem) artists and arts professionals face. One audience member asked whether technological advances “undermine the ability of the people to decide which art is important.” On the contrary, technology makes the world smaller, makes art more accessible (shameless self-aggrandizing: hello, blog), allows for the democratization of art (why yes I will continuously recycle my own words). In the words of moderator and artist Luis DeLaTorre:

[With technology], we can have [art] at our fingertips To be able to experience it, visual art and music, you have it right there. I was talking to a friend of mine and I said, “Art is dead.” Her response was, “Art is never going to die, because it’s that human experience of creating that always propels us.” 

Essential for democracy? Never going to die? It’s what propels the human race? If that’s what art is and we’re not supporting it, it looks like our values are indeed skewed.

Read more highlights from the conversation here.

All of this brings me to the flip side of the discussion we had (and are still having) on this site concerning overrated artists. One of my main objectives is exposing and sharing the talents of artists—who might otherwise remain under the radar—with shows like Exquisite Corpse and via online galleries. Who do you want to see exalted in galleries and museums? What do you want to see? Who/what do you feel represents you? We need to take the microphone from the mainstream and major outlets and institutions and hand it back to the people, to you. The artist has the ability to condense an entire zeitgeist into a single image, to create something that someone else can look at and say, “This is who I am, and this is who we are.” Art encapsulates the voice of the people.

Related: I’m pleased to be a part of Lolk Collective, a new community-focused initiative I mentioned briefly in this interview. Launched by Zachary Johnson, who exhibited art in Exquisite Corpse, Lolk is looking for collaborators, so this is an artist call for those of you who are interested in street art, guerilla art, and other forms of happiness.

Everything is connected.

Except for the following fact.

My favorite “search keyword” (thank you, Blogger stats) that led someone to this site this week: “how old is jenny lam”

(Well, kind stranger, if you click around on enough links—hint! the sidebar! also! interviews on the press page!—you’ll figure out when I graduated college, and that should narrow things down. Although I’ll let you continue to believe I’m either a 14-year-old prodigy—the ages mentioned on the “About” page are fabulous red herrings—or a geezer with an aging portrait in an attic.)

Living for the City / “Mommy, where do [great artists] come from?”

Last week The Huffington Post ran an article that asked, “Where do important artists come from?” (My simple answer would be the following wise words from the masterwork that is Ratatouille: “Not everyone can become a great artist. But a great artist can come from anywhere.” Slow clap.) Here’s an excerpt:

For in a world celebrated for rapid shifts in technique and style, and for the iconoclasm of its young geniuses, the geography of artistic innovation is profoundly conservative.

Simply put, important new artists are most likely to emerge in the same cities where important artists have emerged in the recent past. And even more narrowly, in recent decades important new artists have been most likely to emerge from the same academic institutions that have produced important artists in the past.

But why those cities in particular? Is it the cities themselves or the academic institutions within those cities—or a combination of the two—that produce artists? Above all, forget the chicken and egg conundrum; do those cities cultivate artists, or do artists, regardless of their origins, gravitate towards those cities? (Speaking for myself and those I know, I would say the latter. And if it is the latter, what if great artists actually, you know, stayed in their hometowns rather than making the inevitable migration to places like New York?)

The piece also touches upon the subject of young / once-young (e.g. Hirst—speaking of whom, the overrated artists discussion is still going!) artists, artists steeped in self-awareness and reacting to their historical contexts, taking a rather calculated approach in steering their careers, so the rest is worth a read.

OMG TGIF MDW sifc btw etc

Sixty Inches From Center did a feature on Exquisite Corpse’s closing reception. Thanks, Lindsey Anderson! (Check out the press page for more… press.)

It’s yet another beautiful fall day, and thus a perfect start to a big weekend for art; the annual Bridgeport Art Walk begins this evening at 6pm and runs through Sunday:

One of the walk’s stops is the buzzed-about MDW Fair, which showcases over 50 exhibitors comprised of artist-run spaces, small not-for-profits, emerging galleries, collectives, and independent curators. Founded in the Spring, the fair is currently in its second iteration and is not to be missed; this, folks, is the future—and the pure now—of Chicago art. This is the rise of the alternative and underground. I like what Paul Klein had to say about it: “MDW sets a high bar about what an art fair should be—an art experience where the exhibitors present art they believe in to an audience that wants to be welcomed, inspired, challenged, and cajoled.” (Edit: Paul just added a paragraph on Occupy Wall Street, and it’s worthy of a standing ovation.) MDW’s Vernissage is tonight 8–11pm, and continues Saturday and Sunday 12–6pm.

Of course, you can’t mention “Bridgeport” and “art” without including the Zhou B Art Center; in the heart of it all, the art center comprises 5 floors of open artist studios and galleries. At 4Art Gallery, you can view Spiritus Saltus and Opposition from Exquisite Corpse. Visit tonight 6–10pm (there will be cider!), and/or Saturday 12–6pm and Sunday 12–5pm. Admission is free.

Here’s a map of the art walk. (Some distances more walkable than others…) (Which is why it might be perfectly acceptable to just stroll around 4Art with a mug of cider in hand.) (Just sayin’.)

Only connect

Remember that Exquisite Corpse guest who “approached me and made my night by raving about the performance, telling me how much it moved him—that he had a moment in which he realized he got it—and showing me, literally, pages he’d written as a response to the piece”? Remember when I didn’t have to resort to quoting myself when I’m already linking to said quote? That guest is Danny Bravman, and he [finally!] emailed me a few days ago. Here’s his message in full:

Hi, I'm not sure if you remember me. I was at the closing night of
Exquisite Corpse, and had been so moved by Caitlin's performance
piece, that I wrote a few pages of reactions which you said you'd be
interested in reading. I had some computer issues and, honestly,
forgot about it, but if you're still interested, here they are.  Other
than blanking a few names, I've not edited it at all; sorry if it's
hard to follow in some places.  It's a little detached for me to read
back on this a month later, I'll admit.

---
One girl painted another girl in red. The second girl rolled onto
placed paper. Repeat. I was confused, because the second girl was
the performer, yet it appeared like the first was the artist: the
first painting, while the second the brush she used. And then I
realized it- the point of the piece, the point of the whole exhibit,
the emotion of tonight, the meaning of the past few months, the answer
we’ve been seeking- collaboration. They are not alone. They work
together. They complement. What they create is greater than the
individual.

Eventually they exhaust the red, and there is blue now, and the result
is purple, so perfect thematically. The first girl has paint on her;
the second has patches of skin still visible. They have been talking
occasionally to each other, inaudibly behind the music and the crowd,
who at one point break into to interact with, calling for the second,
who had adhered to the paper and plastic she was rolling across to
“leave it”. And she lets herself roll herself up, cocooning herself
within her own art, then emerges, and lets the next coat be applied.
She is near naked, but yet not erotically: her exposure is not of
shame, but of sharing; playful. At the end they both procure
scissors- I do not know why- and cut up their work into scraps, not
into clothing as I first hypothesized.

I text back the location I originally was going to spitefully not give
K____, having been upset at the insultingly little effort put into
this purported friendship, this constant standing up, so badly lied,
the sort which had me write off another ______ _U 20__ graduate, to
let be given what I ought show to such behavior, contrasting with the
appreciation I show, the appreciation shown to me by J__ mere minutes
before, who was so touched at my friendship in traveling to Wisconsin
for her birthday, for her show, for her, that I realized how
unnecessarily bitter I’d been, by being alone, wandering through this
exhibit, taking a “Fish of Destiny” while leaving a crumpled up
“LIES”, drawing a half-visible off-to-the-side mist-shrouded head for
a trifold self-portrait, sending an unacknowledged text instead of
congratulating in person the sole artist I knew beforehand, silently
composing hurtful hates. But I feel I understand. Now I know. I see
collaboration before me. The second girl writes, her performance
concluded, on the external easels two questions: how is the body best
used for art, and vice versa. I look around, finding these papers and
pen, to take outside to write down reactions.

I understand her art. I understand their art. I understand myself.
We are not alone. We express ourselves, together, creating and
observing, together interpreting. And I hope my crumpled up paper is
still there, so that I can straighten out the scrap, cross out the
black word and write under in purple: “I understand now”. Let’s see.

Thank you so much, Danny, for reminding us why we make art in the first place. (Well, why a lot of us do, anyway.)

If you haven’t already, make sure you take part in last week’s discussion post! I also posed the same questions in the Chicago art discussion-based #chiart group on Facebook. Screencap of group members’ answers after the jump. The names and profile pictures have been redacted because, well, what happens in #chiart stays in #chiart: