<html><head></head><body>This spring and summer there will be art fairs, new gallery and museum exhibitions and many creative endeavors taking place.the Art world figures working hard behind the scenes give us so much to look forward to, and we spoke to five art community leaders about what they’re excited about now and looking forward to next.&nbsp;The following preview is one of five that appear in our spring/summer 2024 magazine. To receive a copy of the print edition <a href="https://835ba3.myshopify.com">click here.&nbsp;</a>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419386/ty9grn7fph3j54ckds5x.jpg"><figcaption>Photo credit: Steph Murray</figcaption></figure><a href="https://edrasoto.com/home.html">Edra Soto</a> – Artist“2024 will be a year to remember. I continue to travel and develop new projects. I will be in Mexico for the first time, as part of the Lit &amp; Luz Festival, with presentations in Museo Universitario del Chopo and SOMA. As a 3Arts Lucas Artist Fellow, I will be in residency at the Montalvo Arts Center in California. Another longer term residency takes place in Kohler, Wisconsin. In commemoration of 50 years of the Kohler Co.’s Arts/Industry program, the John Michael Kohler Arts Center has organized a series of exhibitions featuring residency alumni. I also look forward to&nbsp;Widening the Lens: Photography, Ecology, and the Contemporary Landscape&nbsp;at the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburg, opening May 11, and&nbsp;Diasporic Collage: Puerto Rico and The Survival of a People&nbsp;at the Eli and Edythe Broad Art Museum in East Lansing, Michigan, opening August 31. Both exhibitions will travel nationally.&nbsp;Solo exhibitions are planned for the ICA at Maine College of Art &amp; Design and at Morgan Lehman Gallery in New York. But I am most excited about a commission of my ongoing project “Graft” as part of the Public Art Fund 2024 exhibition program at the Doris C. Freedman Plaza in Central Park, New York, opening September 5th.”#&nbsp;Read 5 to Talk to with:<a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/news/2024/5/anticipating-a-season-of-art-five-to-talk-to-jonathan-higgins-manneken-press">Jonathan Higgins – Manneken Press</a><a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/news/2024/5/anticipating-a-season-of-art-five-to-talk-to-kimberly-oliva-oliva-gallery-and-alma-fine-art-interiors">Kimberly Oliva – Oliva Gallery, and Alma Fine Art &amp; Interiors</a><a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/news/2024/5/anticipating-a-season-of-art-five-to-talk-to-claudine-ise-goldfinch">Claudine Ise – Goldfinch</a><a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/news/2024/5/anticipating-a-season-of-art-five-to-talk-to-aron-packer-potter-potter-auctions">Aron Packer - Potter &amp; Potter Auctions</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Anticipating a Season of Art: Five to Talk to – Edra Soto

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419368/wf9icuqksmgfbv3ee2ef.jpg"><figcaption>Sundeep Mullangi and Trissa Babrowski in their entrance hall. Wall mural painted by Patrick Rouillier. All photos by CGN.&nbsp; &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>By BIANCA BOVAStepping into Trissa Babrowski and Sundeep Mullangi’s home for the first time is an unforgettable experience. Situated on a quiet block in Chicago’s Kenwood neighborhood, the Italianate Victorian house’s rather staid exterior belies the profusion of color, pattern, and artwork that greets visitors as soon as they cross its threshold. Upon entering it is immediately evident that each element has been thoughtfully selected and flawlessly integrated into a truly original environment reflective of the shared vision of its two creators, and the culturally and socially rich life they have built there.&nbsp;Babrowski, a vascular surgeon, and Mullangi, the head of fixed income research at an investment management firm, met as students at Illinois Wesleyan University. While art collecting has always been a shared endeavor, their personal interests in art were developed independently. For Mullangi, it came about through an internship at the McLean County Arts Center in Bloomington, Illinois during college.&nbsp;“They needed to digitize their financials, and I was hired as an intern to input all their paper records into QuickBooks. One day, I got out of the back room and walked around, and I realized how incredible the place was. I started working there on Saturday afternoons, because they needed someone to open the doors. That’s when I started meeting artists and saw the process of putting together the shows. That was my first real foray into art, and I loved it,” he explained.&nbsp;For Babrowski, her explorations began at an earlier age. “When I was a child–probably five or six–my local public library had a lending program that allowed you to check out small reproductions of art masterpieces. There was an old pegboard wall full of all these little reproduction oil paintings, in this industrial brutalist-like library setting. I remember looking up at that and being overwhelmed by the amount of beauty contained in that space. I thought it was the most remarkable thing, that you could have an actual piece of art, and that it was something that could change according to your mood or whims. It had this transient, really beautiful quality about it,” she noted, before adding with a laugh, “My sister and I shared a bedroom, and we’d have competing walls and argue about whose installation looked better.”&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419369/f3wuisu9edlbyq4774sf.jpg"><figcaption>Seen through the doorway on the left is a Cabinet of Curiosities by Norman Teague. Photograph, center, by Irena Haiduk. glass objects by Anne Wilson.&nbsp; &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;The house itself, which the couple shares with their three sons, who range in age from eleven to sixteen, bears a certain historical importance to the neighborhood. Built in 1873, it is the oldest residence in Kenwood, and one of only a few remaining wooden houses in the city. Having been constructed prior to the annexation of Hyde Park and Kenwood by the city, it was not subject to the ban on such construction materials that was implemented in the wake of the Great Chicago Fire.&nbsp;Inside, its Victorian character remains legible in the high ceilings, tall windows, grand fireplaces, and washes of sunlight that fill the rooms on the ground floor.&nbsp;“We want the architecture, and the bones of the house, to be able to speak for themselves,” Babrowski says, “I think there’s something unexpected and something really fun about having very contemporary art within this setting. Houses aren’t static and houses shouldn’t be museums; they shouldn’t be strictly adherent to their past. They grow and evolve, just like any sort of living creature does.”Mullangi adds, “Trissa has an incredible eye, and we’ve created this kind of layering. Art on top of wallpaper, wallpaper on ceilings, rugs we’ve hand-picked from all over the world, which has been fun as well, when we travel. The house is a visual memory of our life together. It is very much a family home, and we enjoy having people over, sharing the space, and opening people’s eyes to living with art in a way that maybe they haven’t seen in the past.”One especially striking element is a mural by Patrick Roullier that begins just past the entrance of the home and extends along the two walls that follow the primary staircase up to the second floor. With its lush depictions of the flora, fauna, and landscapes of India in a muted palette, one could easily be forgiven for mistaking it for vintage wallpaper at first glance.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419370/nel8oxkkxmzo9axxoavj.jpg"><figcaption>A view into the living room. On the right, a work by Michael Rakowitz. In the fireplace an installation by Jason Pickleman. Sculpture by Jeffrey Gibson. Painting above the fireplace by Hugh Kappel. &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“I imagined what the people who built the house in 1873 might have covered these walls with”, says Babrowski, of the mural, “During that time those who were fortunate enough to go on grand tours of Europe, often returned home with these beautiful painted wallpaper panels. I thought about how we could update that idea, and make it relevant for us. So it’s these scenes from India that are particularly important to us. Sundeep’s family had mango plantations, and so the mango tree motif is an essential element of the design. It was a way to stay in keeping with the house but still, at the same time, make it modern and fresh and a backdrop for our life as a family.”&nbsp;Art can be found in nearly every room of the home, with works by artists ranging from Derrick Adams, Bethany Collins, Julien Creuzet, Beverly Fishman, Vanessa German, and Jeffrey Gibson, to Claire Sherman, SoiL Thornton, Martha Tuttle, Kehinde Wiley and Jonas Wood. Chicago artists are also well-represented in the collection, including Dabin Ahn, Roger Brown, Theaster Gates, Jeremiah Hulsebos-Spofford, Judy Ledgerwood, Laura Letinsky, Angel Otero, Jason Pickleman, Michael Rakowitz, Tony Tasset, and Amanda Williams, among others. &nbsp;&nbsp;<blockquote>“Organic while simultaneously intentional, our collection serves as an ongoing love letter to Chicago. We believe in fostering a rich arts ecosystem as philanthropists and patrons, convinced that a vibrant cultural milieu is the most effective mechanism to facilitate societal change and evolution. We consider ourselves keepers of this art rather than collectors, and especially seek to support the stories and practices of artists traditionally excluded from the historical cannon. While objecthood is central to any collection, we are most interested in how art serves as a vehicle for bridging cultural divides.”&nbsp;- Trissa Babrowski &amp; Sundeep Mullangi</blockquote>&nbsp;“It’s not that we don’t go outside of Chicago to buy art, because we absolutely do,” says Mullangi, “but we really believe in supporting the art community here, both artists and galleries. We’re not just buying art to own it, to possess it, we’re buying art to be supportive of this whole ecosystem that it all rests upon. We’ve always had the feeling of, ‘If not us, then who’s going to do that?’ Because you need the support of the people who are embedded here to really make a difference.”&nbsp;For the couple, that support extends well beyond art collecting. Both are also active philanthropists and supporters of many cultural and educational organizations in the city.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419371/enm06umypracejejrvfe.jpg"><figcaption>A family room features an eclectic selection of art. A triptych by Beverly Fishman is pictured on the right.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“I’m passionate about volunteer work,” says Mullangi, “I serve on boards at the University of Chicago, through the Lab School; at the Hyde Park Arts Center; and at Illinois Wesleyan University. I really like to be at the intersection of community, education, and art. I find that these three institutions are right at that intersection, trying to help develop programs and leadership and see what the way forward looks like.I grew up in Macomb, Illinois. It was classic small town USA. When I was in high school, it was all about sports, it was about football. It was about Friday night games, and varsity letters, and wearing your sports jacket, and then potentially giving that jacket to a girlfriend,” continues Mullangi, “We all grew up with that being the norm, that’s just what you do, but in the art world you don’t do that. You don’t get a varsity letter for painting well. I’ve always wanted the equivalent memento available for artists, to make the way we emphasize art in our culture not so dissimilar to how we emphasize sports. The Hyde Park Arts Center especially does a phenomenal job in this way, with their fundraising to allow individuals, both kids and adults, the ability to take classes for free, or for whatever they can pay. That work I’m so proud of to be a part of, because that is what we need to do much more of. In Chicago, in other urban areas, we need to allow individuals to find their niche, and, importantly, to then go figure out how to improve upon that. Then maybe they’re on their way to do something pretty significant.Trissa, as a surgeon, she helps people every day in ways that literally change their lives. My professional life is much different, so I’ve tried to effect change in an alternative way,” he adds, “What Trissa does is also actually very creative, and beautiful too. Of course, we don’t all get to see it, because all of her work is inside the body.”&nbsp;“As a vascular surgeon, what I do does involve a lot of creativity,” Babrowski says, “You have an area that’s diseased, and you have to figure out a way to circumvent that. I always tell the residents, ‘it has to be perfect and it has to be beautiful, and unless it’s beautiful, it doesn’t count.’ I think that’s also kind of evocative throughout our collection as well. There’s a lot of what might be called traditional women’s work in it. I think women’s creativity, the way that women express themselves, has traditionally been undervalued. Everybody deserves to be seen and felt and heard, and through the collection we try and ensure that’s true because everybody has creativity, it’s just about the way that you express it. And that’s different for everybody.”&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419372/yxuljyl2a6i4pux7xbbo.jpg"><figcaption>Pictured above, from left: a work on paper by Soil Thornton, photograph by Laura Letinsky, painting by Martha Tuttle, ceramic piece by Melissa Weber, drawing in frame by Nate Young. &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>In bringing these creative voices together in their collection, Babrowski and Mullangi create space for dialogues to develop between the works themselves, which in turn have the ability to spark meaningful conversations between their viewers.&nbsp;“Clearly there are a lot of problems within the world today. I think art gives us a language and an opportunity to think about it, and have civil discourse about issues that may not be so easy to talk about,” says Babrowski, “Simply having the opportunity to look sometimes gives you greater compassion and understanding of other people’s perspectives.”&nbsp;Many are fortunate enough to have that opportunity, as Babrowski and Mullangi’s hospitality is well-known. Gatherings of family, friends, and artists, along with social events for the art community are frequent occurrences in their home.&nbsp;“I always say when the house is full, there is a very particular vibe. It almost feels like the house itself is happy to be full of people,” says Babrowski.&nbsp;Their generosity extends beyond making the collection accessible through visits and parties, as the couple are frequent lenders to institutional exhibitions as well.&nbsp;“I think it’s the saddest thing when a work disappears into a private collection, and nobody else gets to see it,” says Mullangi. &nbsp;“Artists do this incredible work–and incredibly important work–where they’re translating a message into a visual medium, and that should be shared and projected, and shouldn’t just live in isolation for only a handful of people to see, in our opinion,” adds Babrowski, continuing, “We’re fortunate that we’re able to acquire these works, and that we are their caretakers. But, just as with this house, we really feel that we’re just their guardians for a period of time. You know, the human lifespan is very short. We aren’t going to be the ones who have any of this for that long of a time, really. In the meantime, why not share that with people while we’re still able to, and while we’re here to enjoy that as well?”#&nbsp;To read more about collecting what you love, <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/news/2024/4/collecting-inspiration-how-to-find-what-you-want-to-live-with">click here</a>.&nbsp;This interview is featured in the spring/summer 2024 issue of CGN. To subscribe to the print edition <a href="https://835ba3.myshopify.com">click here.&nbsp;</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

A Living Collection: Sundeep Mullangi and Trissa Babrowski Support Their City Through Art

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419368/jsedp2pbh9exo2qc3j6k.jpg"><figcaption>Lucca Colombelli, Founder, Povos (photo by Travis Barron) &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By BIANCA BOVALucca Colombelli speaks quickly, with a cavalier manner that suggests that even if he doesn’t—by his own admission—know what he’s doing, he certainly knows what it is that he is going to do next. On a recent visit to his gallery Povos’s Chicago Avenue location, which is currently under renovation, Colombelli walked me through the space while rattling off the forthcoming improvements to everything from the baseboards to the lighting. We then sat down for a conversation about the gallery’s simple beginnings, its rapid expansion, and the multi-hyphenate future Colombelli sees for himself as a young person in the art world.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Lucca. Let’s begin with how your gallery, Povos, got its start.&nbsp;Lucca Colombelli: I’m an artist first. I didn’t necessarily like the way that the [gallery] system was set up. I have been in those ‘rooms’ in the commercial art world and thought, ‘This doesn’t feel like it’s about art at all.’ I wanted to make [a space] that was beautiful and celebratory and inclusive.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What did you feel like the art world was about, if you didn’t feel like it was about art?LC: To me the commercial art world [from galleries to art fairs], especially as an artist, felt very much like it was about money and about creating an exclusive culture that discouraged [most] people from getting involved, so [the main players] could maintain the power over both what’s being shown and where the money is moving. I try to convey [to my artists] that ‘this should be about you.’ That’s how I feel and I want them to feel too.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Even about art fairs? Which are inherently commercial spaces?&nbsp;LC: it’s like the artist almost has no place at an art fair.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: I like to say, “An art fair is no place for an artist.” Often it can feel like they’re the last person you want in the room when you’re doing a deal.&nbsp;LC: The artist might not want to be there either. An artist I know, who is established, once said to me, ‘Going to the fair as an artist is like watching your parents have sex.’&nbsp;Starting the gallery became this very difficult and involved learning process through which I can see how the system actually happens and can also work. EXPO CHICAGO this April will be my first fair [as a participating gallery]. With a seat at the table, what are we going to do with it? Who’s going to come and support it? How can we make it about the artist? &nbsp;CGN: How, in practice, are you implementing that paradigm shift?&nbsp;LC: I am not sure I can quantify how it’s working, but if you come to our gallery openings–there’s a good feeling. To me I think that’s largely because it’s been a grassroots gallery.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Is it still grassroots?LC: This started as shows in an apartment, and then eventually shows on Milwaukee Avenue. It was a passion project. We were fortunate people came to support it and feel involved. There’s such a strong culture built around [Povos]. The people working here now, including me, are still practicing artists, but now we’re understanding how to do this. I’m bringing in a full time director, a manager and support staff. We have had a run of funding, and we’re opening a second location and doing the fairs. We’re also getting attention – from institutions, the press, and some major collectors. I’ve become friends with the heads of several national institutions and found mentors in the local art world as well.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419369/t3iinalkrl39xkiednoo.jpg"><figcaption>Povos x blackpuffin, Conflicts of Freedom, August 2023. Photo: Jake Ellerbrake &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: You’re a young dealer, and you seem invested in pushing back against the art establishment, in creating your own model. The more transparent you can be the better, if you want others to be able to learn from what you’re doing.&nbsp;LC: I didn’t know what the hell I was doing at all. I went to art school for two semesters and dropped out. The idea was to develop a sustainable online gallery model.&nbsp;CGN: When you say sustainable, do you mean economically, ecologically, or in some other way?&nbsp;LC: I’m talking about economics. Instead of 50/50 between the artist and the dealer, and putting a lot of money into real estate or rent, online it could be 70/30. A portion of that 30% would go to social work partners. I was interested in this idea of a low-overhead, online gallery that could also better the community. I worked with Chicago Social Change; Save Money, Save Life; and Simple Good, where I’m on the Associate Board. We did fundraisers, and I did a guest teaching spot last year. We’re looking at doing it again in the spring with after school programs.&nbsp;So, initially the idea was to bring the digital to the physical as much as possible with popup events. We were doing it in restaurants, in houses, wherever. Then we got the space [on Chicago Avenue], and people started to notice us. A big advocate has been Abby Pucker [of Gertie]. She reached out in fall 2022, and we have become good friends. She’s helped elevate the project and put it on the map for new people. This went from an artist run project, to two locations, doing fairs and finding funding.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Can you share more about your funding model? Fairs don’t get cheaper year over year, and neither does real estate, for that matter.&nbsp;LC: In year one, with the popup online model, I didn’t make any money. Year two, on Milwaukee Ave., going in we didn’t have even a year’s worth of overhead, let alone funds for staffing, events, and marketing. It was just me running it. It didn’t start going well until maybe August 2022, where we had a show with Will Schaeuble, a young SAIC graduate. We sold out opening night. We had never had anything like that happen.&nbsp; CGN: What accounted for the difference?&nbsp; LC: We started marketing [the show] really early. We seemed to do everything right. I thought, ‘Maybe this could work.’ Just a little earlier I thad hought, ‘Oh my God, how are we gonna pull this off?’ While there was a growing culture of artists hanging out, I didn’t think it was sustainable. I think this is a problem young galleries can face. You can approach it with a lot of passion, but it’s not necessarily going to make economic sense.&nbsp;August happened and it worked. Then in September 2022 we sold out Ashkon Haidari’s opening night. After that I wanted to reorganize and to create new systems and bring in help. A big part of my philosophy has been: say yes, then figure it out. I saw the opportunity and the potential of [a physical] space, but when I got it it was a nightmare. It took a serious amount of work, but I knew we could turn this into something cool, and the price was right, even though I didn’t have the money until I did a little fundraising.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Was that primarily through private donations, or were you seeking grants?&nbsp;LC: All private, mostly collectors who support my vision of this artist-utopic gallery.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Do any of the backers have equity in the gallery? &nbsp;Yes, some of them have ownership stakes, but the majority are involved in a cultural or infrastructural way.&nbsp;CGN: Do you intend to retain majority ownership long term?&nbsp;LC: I’m more interested in building something sustainable and beautiful than maintaining my vision for it.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Do you feel that those are mutually exclusive?&nbsp;LC: No, not necessarily. If someone wants to come in and do this or they have an idea for 10 locations, it can’t just be me making the calls on that. We’re building an advisory board and an internal board with the new equity members–local curators and multiple artists who I’ve contacted and who have said, “Yes, I’d love to be part of this.” It’s so rewarding to come from not knowing who any of these people were two years ago, to having my–I keep calling it, the Avengers Board. &nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Frankly, it’s uncommon to see that level of support being offered to someone who–as you put it yourself–knew no one and had no idea how the industry even worked just a year or two ago. What has helped you most in establishing that base of support?&nbsp;LC: I think it has a lot to do with the feeling of the space and our philosophy. It’s not about closing the door or opening it selectively. It’s about, “Hey, we got the foot in the door. Everybody come check this out.”&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419370/yy5tl6w8ibl4whutlv5i.jpg"><figcaption>Ashkon Haidari “Under the Cherry Moon” September 2023. Photo: Jake Ellerbrakes &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Do you feel that that’s an ethos that makes you distinct from other galleries in the city?&nbsp;LC: I know there are a lot of really inclusive, cool people in Chicago. It’s easy to be a young artist and think, “Oh, I don’t want to work with them,” or “Screw the man!” It’s an immature attitude that I had, and now I realize that all these people are very smart and great and also work in some similar ways.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Who are other dealers that you admire?&nbsp;LC: Mariane Ibrahim–I think she’s a rock star. I also really like Patron’s program, and they’re very friendly to us as well. You could throw a rock and hit a good gallery on this street.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Can you tell me more about what informs Povos’ program?&nbsp;LC: To begin with it was just people I liked. We’re evolving towards the space being spearheaded by smart and interesting collaborations with other people, not necessarily just my vision.&nbsp;CGN: Do you represent artists? Do you have a stable?&nbsp;LC: We don’t currently represent people exclusively. I never thought I had enough to offer. But now we’re going to try to sign people locally for representation, about eight artists.&nbsp;CGN: Can you tell me about the gallery’s second location?&nbsp; LC: Last year I exhibited my paintings with Winston Guo, who ran W. Gallery in the South Loop on Van Buren. I haven’t shown in years and never really in Chicago. We threw a big opening. It was really fun, we sold some work. Winston and I talked about our gallery practices and differing strengths and challenges. This year he will come on as a full time director with me, primarily based out of his original space. We’re calling it “Povos Downtown.”&nbsp;CGN: Do you plan on running two simultaneous programs, or will it serve as an extension space?&nbsp;LC: It’ll be staggered. So yes to two programs, five shows each a year, for one year.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What is happening in the meantime?&nbsp;LC: We’ve stepped into an advisory network of secondary market dealers who are also young and ambitious. I’m doing some interesting work with 20th century art. I also met a guy in Mexico and we’re considering forming an international advisory with a Latin American and Italian masters focus. That’s not technically Povos, but that’s me. Also, I’m possibly curating a museum show in Japan this year at the Kyoto City Art Museum.&nbsp;CGN: Is the Kyoto City Art Museum an institution you have an existing relationship with? How did that opportunity come about?&nbsp;LC: There’s an arts government program in Kyoto. You take corporate tax money and turn it into something art related. The companies get a write-off, and the city gets a cut. A friend from art school has a connection to one of these programs, and that brought about the opportunity.&nbsp;I hope I can do a lot more for artists and in this industry if I can fulfill every role. I can be a curator, I could be an advisor, I could be a gallery, I could be an institution. If we have all the moving parts, we can accomplish a lot.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What do you see as the advantage to that approach over selecting a role, and devoting yourself to it?&nbsp;LC: I think you don’t have to be at the mercy of a system when you can fulfill multiple roles within it, and create new systems with that.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Do you ever worry that could potentially be a disservice to your artists? That if you’re successful in creating these new systems, you risk divorcing them from the conventional art world at an early stage?&nbsp;LC: No, I don’t think we’re divorcing them from the system at all. We just are becoming more involved in the system. Instead of just fulfilling the role of the gallery, we can go and make other kinds of deals and opportunities for them.&nbsp;CGN: There’s a rich history in Chicago of artist-run spaces that have gone on to achieve great commercial success. Take for example, many of the galleries that have participated in both editions of the Hyde Park Art Center’s Artists Run Chicago exhibitions, or going back even further, the spaces profiled in the the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago’s 1984 catalog Alternative Spaces: A History in Chicago. I’m hearing that you feel you’re subverting that standard developmental model, and that you’re successfully breaking boundaries. I’m trying to parse out what it is that makes you and your gallery different. Can you help articulate that for me?&nbsp;LC: I think keeping this glass door policy with the people we work with is different. Also our local cultural presence is a big thing, because it is inclusive.&nbsp;CGN: You acknowledged earlier that many Chicago galleries’ cultures are inclusive, so what sets Povos apart?LC: It’s the only space where I’ve seen the interaction between the billionaire and the bartender. Everyone walks in here and no one knows who anyone is, but they’re there and “Hey, what’s up?” is a very approved action at Povos.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Programmatically, where do you feel that your gallery fits into the context of Chicago?&nbsp;LC: I think we have a unique vision, which is the artists that I think we represent locally largely are, I call it, folkloric surrealism. It is an ongoing theme, and I think that’s what I enjoy. Some artists are self-taught, some are trained. All of our artists are young and working in this kind of magical way.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Chicago has deep historical associations with certain movements in the art world, and you can see the legacies of those movements in contemporary galleries’ programs today. I’m curious where you see Povos’ program in that context, if at all?&nbsp; LC: I never thought about it much. I am kind of new, and even new to the [art] scene. I’ve been [in Chicago] about seven years, and it has been a learning process. As far as historically, I don’t know if I’m informed enough to place the gallery anywhere. I think right now, it feels like we’re the new generation.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What brought you to Chicago, and what made you want to stay?LC: Yes, I spent two semesters at SAIC, where I met some of my best friends. I had a really good professor who said “You seem like you know what you want to do. You want to go paint, go paint. You want to open a gallery? Open a gallery. You don’t have to be here to do that.” And he was right, ultimately.&nbsp;I’m grateful to Chicago for letting me get away with this. I don’t think I would have been able to do it anywhere else. Buckle up, and let’s see what happens with the real version of this, because I think it hasn’t realized its full potential. I’m excited to see where it goes.<a href="https://povoschicago.com">povoschicago.com</a>#This interview is featured in the spring/summer 2024 issue of CGN. To subscribe to the print edition <a href="https://835ba3.myshopify.com">click here.&nbsp;</a></body></html>

A Young Gallerist Imagines the Future: Povos's Lucca Colombelli

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419360/ndrpl9ffkex1puyuhqlh.jpg"><figcaption>Photo by Etienne Frossard</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;BY ALISON REILLYSalvador Andrade Arévalo calls himself a printmaker who paints. Born in a rural area of Jalisco, Mexico, he immigrated to Chicago with his family at a young age. Inspired by his parents and older sister, he took art classes in high school and studied printmaking at Yale University. After graduating from college, he resisted the instability of life as a working artist, and instead worked as an admissions officer for Yale, a staffer on Obama’s reelection campaign, and a Master’s student in Latin American studies at the University of Cambridge. Eventually, he moved to Mexico City and spent five years painting in his living room while working remotely to support himself. Now, after completing his MFA at Yale in 2022, he is back in Chicago and currently a Bolt Resident at Chicago Artists Coalition. His solo show, Olvido, is on display at CAC until April 25, and his work will also be included in CAC’s EXPO Booth.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What are your earliest memories of making art?&nbsp;Salvador Andrade Arévalo: Edwidge Danticat, the author, has stated in talks and interviews that all immigrants are artists. In order for immigrants to survive in the US, they must create an entirely new life by pulling from their own internal creativity. They have to have the inspiration, the drive, and the will to survive in a country that isn’t necessarily accommodating to them. For me that spirit, that essence, is an influence in my work. That thriftiness, the frugalness, the need to just make something out of nothing has always been a part of my life, especially as someone that grew up as an immigrant.&nbsp;My parents didn’t complete high school or college. They only went up to sixth grade. But they’re the most brilliant people I know because they work with their hands. My mom knows how to make clothes. She can look at any knit pattern and she can fashion and replicate it. My dad, before retiring, worked setting up sprinkler systems. for massive corporations, storefronts, and skyscrapers in and around the Chicago-land area. He’s always been crafty. He knows how to use any tool. Growing up in a household with two creative people made me want to work with my hands. In this way, I found art as a logical avenue to pursue in school.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419361/vnz2n0ytvxohzsqjv3su.jpg"><figcaption>Salvador Andrade Arévalo, Doble mirada 1 / Double gaze 1, 120 x 100 cm, oil on canvas, 2023 &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: When did you decide to pursue art formally?SAA: Well the funny thing is that I don’t think I was necessarily drawn to art classes themselves. I was drawn to the markers and the materials. I was the kid that could color within the lines while everyone else was drawing scribbles. I also grew up with an older sister who was super into art. She studied art in college, and she’s a curator. Naturally it made sense for me to take a lot of art classes, too, without thinking I was going to be a full-time artist later on. I took so many art classes in high school, and I majored in art in college. But it took me five years after I graduated from college to fully decide, okay, I want to pursue art full-time.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: How has your training as a printmaker influenced your current painting practice?&nbsp;SAA: The way I paint is a transposition of printmaking in the sense that I work with screens of color. In my paintings and my mixed media pieces, I’m always thinking about building up screens of color. That’s what adds dimensionality to my oil painting. A lot of my paintings are very detailed and meticulous, and they seem like I’m using hard edges, rulers, or tapes, but they’re free drawn and painted. This attention to detail comes from my training as a printmaker, in which I had to be very assiduous about everything. And, even though I don’t necessarily print anymore, I still consider printmaking to be a cornerstone of my practice. Having been formed, artistically, with such rigidity allows me to make moves with much more freedom now, because of my technical foundations. It’s much easier to make art with a strong foundation in technique, rather than starting with a baseline of no skills and trial and error.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Could you talk about the importance of flowers and other motifs in your paintings?SAA: Whenever I introduce my work right now, I say it’s about plastics and flowers. But there’s a lot of meaning behind both of those things. I’ll start with the flowers. I grew up around gardens. Over the summers when I was in high school, I would set up sprinkler systems with my dad. My family is from a very rural part of Mexico in the state of Jalisco. I was born there. You can imagine a rural place with plants everywhere. I’ve always been in some way, shape, or form, surrounded by plants. I made the connection between farming, warehouses, and my family, and I realized the economic exploitation of plants has kept my family in the labor class.The flowers are also there as a visual trap because they’re so beautiful and seductive. I also depict flowers that I find around Mexico or connect to my Mexican heritage. Some of them may not necessarily originate from Mexico; some were brought to Mexico and became popularized and common in folkloric imagery. Flowering plants themselves have also been so genetically modified that they have their own legacy of exploitation and extraction by human touch to be more attractive.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419362/zcyqqs0s8pruleslholz.jpg"><figcaption>Salvador Andrade Arévalo, Lenticular, 19” x 17”, hand stitched produce packaging from family’s consumption, 2023</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: And the plastics?&nbsp;SAA: In conjunction with flowers, I use a lot of single-use, disposable plastics, like food packaging or things used to wrap what you order online. Anything plastic that’s simply thrown away, I use in my work. The first thing you do every day is throw some piece of plastic away. If you think about it, have you ever gone through a day without throwing away a piece of plastic? And the plastics themselves come from petrol, and petrol is fossilized organic material. I’m interested in the concept of extraction and what we consume as Americans in the U.S. is stripped of its origins. The plastic that’s used to tape up an Amazon box, where does that come from? Which country in the global south packed this or made it, and where was it taken from and how cheaply and exploitatively was it removed from its origins?&nbsp;My family has been migrating between Chicago and Mexico for over 100 years. But always as laborers. This gives you a sense of my family and how these exploitative systems keep people in their same class forever.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419362/cqzrhnyq0hboex9rrqbu.jpg"><figcaption>Salvador Andrade Arévalo, Pasos / Paces, 31.5 x 25 in, found single-use plastics, thread, paper, pressed flowers, textiles, acrylic, gesso, and sequins, 2023 &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Are you collecting these materials, the food packaging and discarded items, in your everyday life or sourcing them?SAA: Right now, most of the plastics in my work are from my family’s consumption. I recently completed a piece that was made from collected food stickers. The stickers name almost every country in Latin America. In a way, the piece was a map of the places that grow our food. And since my family in Mexico grows tomatoes, limes, corn, and agave, making this piece was a full circle moment. The food my family members in Mexico grow and sell, could very well be the food that I consume in the US.&nbsp;So where is our food coming from? Who’s growing it, who’s touching it, who’s packing it, who’s shipping it?&nbsp;My family members who grow limes have to sell a crate of limes that weights several kilos for pennies. When we buy limes in Chicago, we buy three limes for a dollar. Imagine the markup value of that food source as it passes through the system of wholesale buyers and distributors to the U.S. &nbsp;<blockquote>“Thriftiness, the frugalness, the need to just make something out of nothing has always been a part of my life.”&nbsp;- Salvador Andrade Arévalo</blockquote>&nbsp;CGN: What’s a typical day in your studio like?SAA: I get up, have coffee, and decide which part of my practice I’m going to devote my time to, especially since I paint by daylight. I’ll set up my oil paints when the sun comes up and then I paint for the entire day. That’s my super concentrated, most intense work mode. But that’s why I also have the other side of my practice, which is more amorphous. The plastic pieces allow me to have more freedom, and not necessarily be strict with a pencil, a brush stroke, or the color choices that I’m making. I bounce between working fast and slow, and I need one to get into the other. The printmaker within me can get so fixated on tiny details. To break myself free from that rigidity, I need the other side of my practice to give me more freedom to play. I never really feel that I complete a piece. I think I can always go back to a piece and have something to fix. I usually just give myself deadlines and say, “Okay, after this day, you see the mistake, but you’re going to have to live with it.”&nbsp;CGN: Oh no.SAA: For example, the pieces I’m making for my show at CAC, the March 1st deadline was the hard deadline, and I forced myself to never ever touch those pieces again.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419363/nggynj7hv0ymmqldbx0j.jpg"><figcaption>Salvador Andrade Arévalo, Nudos / Knots, 12” x 9”, oil pastel on paper, 2022</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Would you touch them after the show? Or you let it go at that point?&nbsp;SAA: No, I tell myself, it’s done. Even though I know in my deepest heart that it’s not done, it’s done. Because I have to stop at a certain point, you know? I get finicky about details. It always goes back to the printmaker within me, who wants everything to be perfectly aligned with no mistakes whatsoever. But a big part of being an artist is moving past&nbsp;that rigidity and letting the work do what it needs to do. What I think is a mistake might not necessarily be a mistake for the audience.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What are you exhibiting for your show at CAC?SAA: I’m including one oil painting and two plastic installations. You know the big potato sacks that grocery stores unpack the food in? I’ve gone to grocery stores, and as people are unpacking them, I ask, “Can I have these?” They look at me like I’m crazy. I’ve selected a ton of them, and I knit them together. It’s a quilt of these food sacks from grocery stores.&nbsp;Plastics are super light, so I kind of work like a clown car. I can fit an entire installation of just plastic into one normal sized box. They’re so light and airy and flimsy and probably will degrade over time. I can travel with them. I can put up a big installation in a day and take the installation down in the same day.&nbsp;Then I have a piece that’s a new venture for me. I’m dethreading my old clothes, reversing what a machine can do. I have entirely dethreaded pants and shirts. It’s humorous in the sense that why would I spend hours and hours dethreading my clothes? They do feel very bodily like they had a past life. It also harkens back to the fact that I don’t like to throw things away. The clothes I have ripped or that I no longer use I repurpose in my art now.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419364/klpzg9qczjni4dopaexq.jpg"><figcaption>Salvador Andrade Arévalo, Pensamientos / Thoughts, 24 x 20 in, oil on canvas, 2022</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: I’m excited to see how those turn out.&nbsp;SAA: I’m excited about those, too, because I hold onto things. That attachment to disposable things comes from being low income and being raised by family members that didn’t necessarily have a ton of wealth, but they were able to create an entire world, an entire childhood out of the most basic necessities.I will start a piece and let it sit there for two or three years. Then once I find or stumble across the material that is needed to complete it, I circle back to that piece and I add the missing things that I felt they needed when I first began the piece.&nbsp;That’s happened with these clothes. I could have donated them, but no one’s really going to want them because they have holes and paint stains. The only other option for these clothes is the dumpster. In the U.S. there isn’t a system to reuse or repurpose things that no longer have a functional use.&nbsp;But I found the loose strands in my jeans so poetic and beautiful. I just started pulling out the threads. That’s actually how a lot of my practice works. I see something and I touch it and I look at it, and then I’m like wait, it’s doing something that visually is compelling. If I get stuck I will go through my boxes, and I’ll start touching things and looking at them and then seeing what new projects can arise out of the things that I’ve already collected.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419365/czfh8addtyh8m9p9goxd.jpg"></figure>&nbsp;This interview is featured in CGN's spring/summer 2024 magazine. To subscribe and receive a copy by mail <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/magazine">click here</a>.&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Plastics and Flowers: the Art of Salvador Andrade Arévalo

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419272/z7u55ufcvkeocopxumyk.jpg"></figure>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;By ANNA DOBROWOLSKIIf we click our ruby heels three times and return to a pre-pandemic world, the ‘Dark Ages’ had a bright future. Medieval art influence was everywhere in pop culture, from&nbsp;Vogue&nbsp;to video games. Maybe you remember the Met Gala’s ‘medieval’ theme in 2018, “Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination”? That same year&nbsp;<a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/news/2018/6/cgn-interview-series-sandra-hindman-of-les-enluminures">CGN interviewed</a>&nbsp;the medieval expert and founder of Les Enluminures, Sandra Hindman, who shared the same optimism in light of an exhibition with the Art Institute featuring nearly 30 manuscript illuminations from her collection.&nbsp;Within a year, there was another parallel: COVID-19 to the 14th-century bubonic plague. People then and now turned to art not only as a response to but also as a reprieve from not understanding the world around them.&nbsp;Perhaps the closest thing Chicago has to the medieval world is hidden in the collection at the Newberry Library, housed in a neo-gothic building adorned with gargoyles that allude to the ‘Old World.’ &nbsp;I visited Sandra Hindman in her office in the One Mag Mile building in downtown Chicago to ask some questions. How can we bring that world of scribes and illuminated manuscripts into our buzzing world of instant messaging and AI? What can that world teach our own—and what light can art advisors like Hindman shed on the Dark Ages for their clients?Somehow the pages from manuscripts on the wall – spawned from another world centuries ago – seem right at home next to the view of Lake Michigan. Hindman’s screensaver is of a miniature of Italian-French poet Christine de Pizan sitting in her study. As we start talking it’s clear that I’m not the only one who feels that there’s much more to appreciate about medieval art. In September, Hindman unveiled a soft rebranding of LE, and launched a parallel art advisory, the first of its kind. Both endeavors are intended to help others bring medieval art home. Below is our conversation about the challenges and creative solutions of keeping medieval art alive.&nbsp;*&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419273/viaisooiip2yymrsegdv.jpg"><figcaption>Sandra Hindman</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN:&nbsp; How has the market changed in recent years, and what does that mean for you?&nbsp;Sandra Hindman:&nbsp;I think it might have changed more in the last five years than in the last several decades. There has been a dramatic shift. In the early '90s there was the rise of art shows. But now there’s a new king and queen: auction houses and art advisors.&nbsp;Technological advances in general, and the pandemic and lockdown in particular, increased the importance of the internet, including the presence and outreach of big auction houses. Simultaneously there is more money for art in more hands, but the ‘hands’ are too busy to be on the hunt themselves. If the king is the auction house, the queen is the art advisor. Except, there are probably ten times as many art advisors and art advisory ventures than ever before.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419273/zmvbfwwoimfh5akzqlkb.jpg"><figcaption>A selection of objects and jewelry&nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: What are some challenges you face running a business of medieval art today?&nbsp;SH: The expected answers would be: Finding inventory, funding it, finding clients, having enough money to pay all expenses, and purchasing inventory. But in fact, the biggest challenge is different. The Middle Ages seem more distant now than ever before, what with iPhones, iPads, computers, and now Al.I haven't done even an informal survey, but I wouldn't be surprised if most people, even very "qualified" buyers, are not sure when exactly the Middle Ages was* and what happened during it, not to mention why they should care. I think that teaching people why a connection with the past is important and how (and why) they can live with medieval art in the present is the most challenging part of my business now.*In case you need a refresher: the Middle Ages in Western Europe were roughly bookended by the fall of the Western Roman Empire in 476 AD and the fall of Constantinople in 1453.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: How are you overcoming that challenge of making medieval art more accessible to more buyers? Do you have any advice for those learning how to appreciate these objects?SH:&nbsp;Learn to live with them at home and feel comfortable about them. Christopher de Hamel, author of&nbsp;<a href="https://www.abebooks.com/9781594206115/Meetings-Remarkable-Manuscripts-Twelve-Journeys-1594206112/plp">Meetings with Remarkable Manuscripts</a>&nbsp;once wrote “No one can claim understanding of the late Middle Ages who has not read a Book of Hours in bed." Even if you can’t read the physical book in bed, you can read about it – it doesn’t take as much time as you would think!&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419274/yrqxt4fb3yy1kkhz7b8g.jpg"><figcaption>"This ring is round and hath no end/ like my love for thee my friend"</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN:&nbsp;Can you provide an example from your collection (like this Posy ring) and walk us through it?SH:&nbsp;A posy ring originates in the sixteenth century and they appear to be exclusively English (though there are some Latin, French, or Italian ones out there). Shakespeare incorporates them into his Hamlet:&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Hamlet: Is this a prologue or the posy of a ring.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Ophelia: Tis brief, my Lord&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Hamlet: as a woman’s love”&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN:&nbsp;What can we learn from a single leaf when the rest of a compendium might be missing?&nbsp;&nbsp;SH:&nbsp;There is much to glean from a single page. Art is art. The beauty of the page, even a single page that has survived from a compendium, can give us access to great art by world class artists – some of whom remain anonymous forever – that is otherwise not accessible or financially unachievable in a complete codex.&nbsp;CGN: What piece in your collection has left a deep impression on you lately?SH:&nbsp;Sydrac’s manuscript. The copy I have*, which has been deaccesioned from an Imperial Russian collection&nbsp;has about 600 questions and answers between Christian philosopher Sydrac and ancient Babylonian king Bokkus to explain the natural world. It contains questions like “How do fish sleep?” “Why don’t the stars fall from the sky,” “Where does fire go when it burns out?” “Can we prolong life?” People are thinking about that one now. There’s another, “Will there always be war?”&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419275/gpwcxo19tq0a41g4olcn.jpg"><figcaption>From the book of Sydrac, &nbsp;"Will there always be war?"</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: *The Book of Sydrac&nbsp;(Le Livre de Sydrac) Sandra mentions is a imagined dialogue between Christian philosopher Sydrac and ancient Babylonian king Bokkus to explain the natural world in over a thousand questions—a kind of rhymed encyclopedia. It was originally written for the French king in the 13th century. While ‘bad science’ might not make for good literature (answers range from quirky and moralizing to poetic), as art and as an object that survives today, it shows us that how we (mis)understand the world relates to what we read and what we see.&nbsp;**<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419276/m4espa2rskiz33dbmmbz.jpg"><figcaption>Sanguini/ Fra Angelico, Manuscript cutting, Children of the World</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: What are you looking forward to?SH:&nbsp;Two things in particular. The first is: we are engaged in a soft rebranding photography project – using new photos in space with people – through which we are trying to show how you can live with medieval art in the modern world.In addition to the soft launch, I’m launching a parallel business called Sandra Hindman Art Advisory LLC, which puts in place functions I’ve been doing for decades anyway. But this is a real gap in the art market internationally. Medieval art is a highly specialized field with few experts and the learning curve is simply too steep for most collectors in this busy world. The client who knows modern and contemporary art, or the museum with a manuscript collection but no specialized curator, they often don't know where to turn. I will advise museums on accessioning as well as deaccessioning projects, where there are special needs. A client who wants to gift their collection, I can find them the appropriate outside IRS appraiser and, equally importantly, advise them on what museum or library would be most appropriate as a gift-home.In other words, one antidote to this fast-paced world is to use these pieces to enter a world previously unknown to us.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419277/tc1uxebpirev1d7qkotc.jpg"><figcaption>Hindman with a book from her collection&nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;#</body></html>

The Art of (Medieval) Living in Chicago

Building a Next Gen Collection: Zach Smith

<html><head></head><body><blockquote>The start of fall means new exhibitions and fresh endeavors, and it’s the Art world figures working hard behind the scenes who give us so much to look forward to. we spoke to five art community leaders about what they’re excited about now and looking forward to next.</blockquote>&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419263/lbr9u8769ash3fibgkvw.jpg"></figure>Erin Harkey –Chicago Deptartment of Cultural Affairs and Special Events (DCASE)&nbsp;“At the Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events, also known as ‘DCASE,’ we serve as a collaborative presenter, arts funder and advocate for creative workers throughout Chicago’s 77 neighborhoods. Chicago is one of the greatest cities in the world for arts and culture—and our working artists generate billions in economic revenue for the city. There is so much to look forward to this fall—from the return of the Chicago Architecture Biennial, the launch of a new theater season and the citywide World Music Festival Chicago, to name a few.&nbsp;Taste of Chicago in Grant Park celebrates the diversity and culinary talent of our city this September. The landmark Chicago Cultural Center is a must-see, always brimming with free visual art exhibitions, performances, films and more programs by DCASE and our partners. Then my favorite start to the holiday season is the City’s annual Tree Lighting in Millennium Park followed by skating at the McCormick Tribune ice rink.”&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419264/jtjxepq3lhkdcffv9sj8.jpg"></figure>Patrick Hull –&nbsp;Vertical Gallery“My interests continue to expand, both as a collector and as a gallery owner. I’m loving the surrealist resurgence, especially work in the pop-surrealism category, and adding new pieces to my personal collection. Several upcoming Vertical Gallery shows are focused on pop surrealism: in September, we have “Leopard Brains,” the first solo show from Danny J. Martinez (a.k.a. Van Dam One), an emerging artist at the vanguard of the pop surrealism movement, followed by two group shows: “New in Town” is curated by Blake Jones, and “Ode To” is curated by Joseph Renda Jr. We’re also returning to SCOPE Miami Beach Art Fair in December to present a solo show featuring another pop surrealist, the French artist Flog.Vertical recently celebrated its ten-year anniversary and moved to a new location within West Town (just a half-mile from our previous location), and we want to thank everyone for their continued support. We’re keeping our format of monthly exhibitions and introducing new artists to the Chicago market, and in 2024 we’ll branch out via exhibits in other U.S. cities and by increasing our participation in international art fairs.”&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419264/vxxnsfbrospqxajhxzhk.jpg"></figure>Roberta Kramer –&nbsp;Heritage Auctions“This season Heritage Auctions brings fresh energy, creative curation, and new partnerships into the gallery. Our auction previews in River North are becoming more dynamic with cross-category curation, and we’re making natural and thoughtful connections by showing stunning photographs with iconic prints &amp; multiples. Unexpected combinations, such as sneakers paired with modern &amp; contemporary art, are playful and equally on point. Shaking things up in the gallery invigorates our team and introduces Heritage Auctions guests to categories they may have otherwise passed over.&nbsp;Beyond an opportunity to see rare and precious items up close before bidding, we take pride in creating a welcoming setting where friendly experts are available to build relationships. With this in mind, Heritage is deepening our Chicago connection by supporting the River North Design District, participating in Design Chicago, and expanding our reach at EXPO CHICAGO.&nbsp;&nbsp;Heritage Auctions Chicago continues growing, with specialists available to support the Midwest in more than 50 collecting categories. It’s a pleasure to evolve with our community and enjoy these enduring relationships.”&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419266/f6vidpxck0vhwnsjq2bf.jpg"></figure>Floating Museum –CAB5: This is a Rehearsal“Floating Museum’s creative leads – Jeremiah Hulsebos-Spofford, Faheem Majeed, Andrew Schachman, and avery r. young – have brought their vision for multidisciplinary, community-driven, and site-responsive projects to the Chicago Architecture Biennial for this year’s CAB5: This is a Rehearsal. At the helm of CAB5, Floating Museum has invited 90 contributors from across the globe to experiment, coact, and collectively reimagine what a resilient, equitable, and thriving city might look like in an era of superimposed crises. With horizontality as foundational to Floating Museum’s conception of “rehearsal,” the team is excited to ideate and fabricate in community with artists, architects, builders, designers, educators, municipal departments, non-profit organizations, activists, innovators, and attendees, all as equal contributors to this year’s Biennial. Though CAB5: This is a Rehearsal will close in early 2024, Floating Museum hopes the myriad connections fostered through the event will act as new beginnings for further experimentation towards the compassionate urban futures we so critically need.”&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419267/mtuei6zlqjra9oigsejf.jpg"></figure>Kavi Gupta –Kavi Gupta Gallery“The Kavi Gupta team is celebrating a landmark year of growth. Our publishing arm and bookstore, Kavi Gupta Editions, designed and published a dozen new artist books, spotlighting Tomokazu Matsuyama, Arghavan Khosravi, Alfred Conteh, and Michi Meko, among others, including a major hardcover catalogue published with EXPO CHICAGO documenting Skin + Masks, our philanthropic collab with rapper and activist Vic Mensa. We helped produce Beyond the Horizon, a hardcover book documenting two Jeffrey Gibson exhibitions: Beyond the Horizon at Kavi Gupta and Sweet Bitter Love at the Newberry Library. We also helped realize multiple new public sculptures, including Dancer, a large-scale work by Matsuyama in New York’s Flatiron Plaza.&nbsp;We’re celebrating our first solo show with Seneca artist Marie Watt, open through Sept. 30. It debuts a long wished-for project we helped produce: ambitious new hanging sculptures Watt made from traditional Indigenous jingle cones, which relate to healing. We brought in multiple internationally recognized Indigenous dancers to activate the works. We’re excited for our fall exhibition with Chicago artist Nikko Washington. And we’re gratified Jeffrey Gibson will represent the US in the Venice Biennale. We’ve fostered Jeffrey’s practice for five years, producing his most important and ambitious performances and projects. All this growth signals that our mission to support marginalized voices by encouraging and amplifying their ideas is impacting the culture.”&nbsp;</body></html>

Fall 2023 – Anticipating a Season of Art: Five to Talk to

<html><head></head><body>Note: This is the fall 2023 CGN Cover Feature from our Sept–Dec magazine. To subscribe to the print version <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/print-subscriptions">please click here.</a>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419263/mei8pgfz9l8pjomj1qlm.jpg"><figcaption>In-Reflection, Luftwerk 2023 &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>By ALISON REILLYIn advance of their exhibition Light Over Light opening at <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/organizations/volume-gallery">Volume Gallery</a> in West Town this November, I spoke with Petra Bachmaier and Sean Gallero, who make up the artistic duo, Luftwerk. The two generously shared insights about their history as artistic partners, their process for designing large-scale interventions at architectural icons like Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater and Farnsworth House, and how they have moved from using electric to ambient light in their installations.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: How did you become collaborators and what, as artists, attracted you to each other?&nbsp;Petra Bachmaier: We met many, many years ago at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.&nbsp;Sean Gallero: Nearly 25 years ago. It was 1999.&nbsp;PB: We were both in the performance art department, so the idea of experiencing art as life was really prominent. We started to collaborate almost immediately.&nbsp;SG: We were drawn towards the installation component of performance art, creating environments for people to experience. Whether moving images through Super 8 or a still image through side projectors, we created these environments.&nbsp;PB: Transformative environments—taking over familiar spaces and transforming them temporarily—became our mode of operation. We removed ourselves as a live element within these scenarios and created spatial takeovers. Because we are in Chicago, we were inspired by architecture and worked closely with two Frank Lloyd Wright buildings for installation-based work. We also ventured into a dialogue on the architecture of Mies van der Rohe. Doing these temporary interventions with architectural landmarks informed how we think of shaping spaces, shaping sculpture. It informed what we do in our studio practice.&nbsp;SG: Our work evolved from performance to performance installation. We’ve done a lot of video in the past, so these engagements with architecture always had this element of projected light, whether it’s video lighting or slides. We always transformed the environment through either a moving image or static image. And then the building became the canvas, transforming that whole philosophy of the architecture into a bridge between the historical context, whether it’s Frank Lloyd Wright or Mies van der Rohe, to more contemporary media, projection, moving image. Now we’ve taken all that and started creating our own environments through color and lighting. We’re constantly shifting. The show at Volume is capturing light and color but also projecting it and not using any sort of direct lighting, using ambient light and sculpture to capture the essence of what these buildings feel like.&nbsp;PB: While we’ve been working on all of these architectural projects, we got interested in the Light and Space movement. We felt very much akin to it. For us a video projector became a light source. From this idea of illumination, we focused on using light as both a pure tool and material.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419264/sl0lrbl7u0rucggcdhhu.jpg"><figcaption>Circular model study for light and color, Luftwerk 2023</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: What were your own individual artistic practices like before you met during graduate school?&nbsp;&nbsp;PB: I enjoyed the idea of Dada and Fluxus. I grew up in Germany, and I was intrigued by non-traditional art practice and very interested in sculpting with materials and light in installation-based forms. I studied predominantly in Hamburg, which is a conceptual art school where there were Fluxus-based instructors. When I got to SAIC I began to ask, “How do you reduce material use? How do you work with material in a minimal way?”SG: We’re always learning new things within our practice. We’re not afraid to jump into the void to be more creative. I come from more of a fine arts background, painting and drawing, but at SAIC I also jumped around, starting in Visual Communication, then working my way to the digital realm, then printmaking, and finally in performance art. It was very exciting in the ‘90s and early 2000s, when performance art was hot in Chicago. We did ad hoc guerrilla performances everywhere. That’s how we crossed paths—I came from a visual standpoint and Petra from the more experimental. Even in the studio, those two converge and we bring our own skill set to a project or piece of artwork. We each have our pluses and minuses, but we always reach a harmonious conclusion after some debate and some tension. Especially with color, there is a very democratic way of choosing color in our studio. We have our favorites and dislikes.&nbsp;CGN: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences working with an institution? And most challenging?&nbsp;PB: The Chicago Cultural Center has been a home base for us for over a decade. It’s a Chicago-based curatorial program and that has helped our practice really grow.SG: One of our highlights was Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater. That was our second step into Wright, and experiencing Fallingwater is breathtaking. How do you create an intervention within architecture that’s already a masterpiece? We had the wonderful challenge of celebrating the form, function and natural landscape of Frank Lloyd Wright. For six nights we had the house to ourselves to be explore be intimate with and create our art.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419265/dnrw7uwlctcdvmybtz6x.jpg"><figcaption>Cone model studies for light and color, Luftwerk 2023</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: For a big, ambitious project like that, how do you get started and work through that? &nbsp;PB: Usually it starts with a site visit. The curator hands over site plans, and we dive into the story. We want to inform ourselves where are we sited, the context of the place, and ask, “How does the work we do find a dialogue within that framework?” Working with institutions, it’s a collaborative exchange. “What does the institution stand for? What are they preserving? And how does our work live in dialogue to that mission or vision for a place?” It’s often about how do we draw new ways of looking at these places that actually hold valuable cultural assets. Everybody knows Farnsworth House, for exampe, but when you try to see it in a very different way you can read a totally different context. So we create a new way of experiencing something that we think we might know because it’s been written about for 50 years.&nbsp;SG: There’s a lot of research involved, whether it’s scholarly research or even just asking the groundskeeper, “What do you notice? What do you see? What’s this detail? What’s the overall experience of a place?” We look at details, then the whole philosophy, and we ask what was there before. These environments hold so much information and knowledge that we could be inspired by a river or by a set of trees.&nbsp;CGN: Could you talk about your study of the passage of light, your effort to capture light throughout a day? How did you become interested in that and how is it present now in your work?&nbsp;PB: Oh, it’s very present in our work.&nbsp;SG: For the longest time we worked in artificial light—projected, electronic, digital light. We did an exhibition at the Garfield Park Conservatory at their greenhouse. We wanted to create an installation that was experienced throughout the day.PB: And activated by the sun. Learning how sunlight travels, observing it far more closely became an interesting phenomenon to be more aware of. It happens every day, but how do we play with it? How do we shape with that phenomena and also the qualities of light and color, the intensity of different colors in the sky. All of that informs of how we work with color and light.&nbsp;SG: One piece at Garfield Park Conservatory dealt with plants and how they absorb light in the color spectrum. We used the green and red ends of the color spectrum. One signifies movement and growth. We had a canopy of blue and red acrylic gels. The sun would move throughout the day and the pattern would be reflected on the floor. And so we physically saw how the sun affects color and movement. That informed how we could create work that uses ambient light, natural light, as well.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419266/dslzuakt4hyylgttygrf.jpg"><figcaption>Curved surface model study for light and color, Luftwerk 2023</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: An installation you did at Cheekwood Estate and Garden in Nashville included colored light and canvases together in the room. To me it brought together different artistic practices and art histories. How did you start using canvases in your installations?&nbsp;&nbsp;PB: For our previous exhibition at Volume in 2020, we experimented by using color as a canvas for the light. How does light impact the way you perceive color? As Josef Albers explains, if you illuminate the color red, it’s more red than if it’s not illuminated. And so the exhibition in 2020 was based on this idea of color as a canvas.SG: We’re distilling our process here. We’ve come from the digital realm, where even sometimes the canvas is digital, but now we’re looking at how do we achieve the purity of color through paint and pigment? How do we apply gradients to canvas or apply solid material that’s textural onto canvas? We’ve done the process of creating pigment through powder and then using hide glue and all these emulsifiers to create the paint. We experimented with airbrushing and how we get gradients of color that are affected through light. Now we love color, we love light. How can we use the pure sense and source of lighting to create our own canvas of color? We’re stocking up on paint and pigment to create that experience.&nbsp;PB: It does feel a little bit like color field painting, but it’s actually about the interaction of color with light. What we set up in the studio is very much the interaction of how those two create an interesting tension or visual field that can shift your perception. The canvases that you’re referring to, they’re titled Meadow, have a gradient from yellow to green based on the idea of bringing the outside in. It was informed by the green and the garden, the light. It was a very simple color field, a smooth gradient. Once we illuminated the light from the yellow, the dark of the green, they have an ebb and flow where they shift. All of a sudden the whole canvas is dark and then it kind of emerges into light again. It’s very perceptive. You need patience with these works. They ask you to take time and look.&nbsp;SG: We need patience because we’re actually cultivating the color. We’re collecting grass, botanic material. We dry them out, crush them, pulverize them, bring them to a powder, and then we create paint or ink from that and apply it to the canvas. There’s another level of the art making process where paint sometimes comes out of a jar, but we also create the paint, create the texture, and create the canvas through this organic material.&nbsp;CGN: You’ve talked and written about the taxonomy of colors and your own studies of Werner’s Nomenclature of Colours. How did you start looking into that? And why has that continued to capture your attention?&nbsp;&nbsp;PB: We stumbled upon it, though we have always been interested and informed by color theory. Most artists cannot avoid it.SG: To Albers it was color with emotion and intellect. But with Werner it was about creating a system of finding colors in nature and determining how we put it into a nomenclature, a code, a dialogue that connects it to the natural environment. It was very interesting to see this pre-Pantone system based on nature that you could find–plant material, mineral and animal —feathers, petals and rocks.PB: Then you dive into the artistry of painters who created their own paint from these materials. They still carry the name, for example, burnt sienna. We’re building a relationship with the actual material. We’ve become enamored with this nomenclature and going back into history when color was not numbered and was not a marketing language, but actually developed by someone who created a system for us to understand the visual world around us. People were more connected to, “Oh, it’s sky blue!” It sounds different than cyan.&nbsp;CGN: Tell me about your show at Volume Gallery in November and how you’re thinking about it now.&nbsp;PB: This is our third exhibition with them. For the first two, in 2018 and 2020, the exploration was all about the phenomena of color and interaction with electric light.SG: But this show coming up is about the pure property of color and how it interacts with ambient light. We’re still designing the room. We’re looking at more minimal sculptures but with these subtle hints of color that reflect onto the wall, onto the environment. It’s about getting accustomed to a space and getting your eyes readied and then looking for those subtleties or vibrant reflections. It’s about sculptural material that reflects color.&nbsp;PB: The color itself bounces or reflects its light quality. It’s like sculpting as if we would sculpt light, but it’s actually for the color. It’s a departure for us to think that nothing within the main gallery will be plugged in. It will be all sculptural and wall-based. It’s kind of like chasing an aura for color.&nbsp;&nbsp;#<a href="http://wvvolumes.com/upcoming/">Light Over Light: Petra Bachmaier &amp; Sean Gallero of Luftwerk Studio</a>At Volume Gallery, Nov 3 – Dec 16, 2023&nbsp;To subscribe to the CGN Fall issue in print <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/print-subscriptions">click here.</a><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419267/wz0w5nfmf8lip5dusuah.png"></figure>&nbsp;</body></html>

Light Over Light: Petra Bachmaier and Sean Gallero of LUFTWERK

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419192/if8j6raw7jw9oglwmw1n.jpg"><figcaption>Pictured: Left: Jim Lutes (on wall), Deborah Butterfield; center: Dan Ramirez, Roxy Paine, Bruce Nauman; Right: Susanne Doremus. Photos by Tom van Eynde</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;&nbsp;By GINNY VAN ALYEAWhen I spent an afternoon this winter with William Lieberman, owner of Zolla/Lieberman Gallery, it was not to discuss his role as an art dealer. Instead, it was to see his personal collection, which he had recently installed in his new Streeterville condo overlooking Lake Michigan.Lieberman had just moved from a house in East Ukrainian Village and was eager to highlight hundreds of works in a fresh setting. Taking in the abundantly-filled walls, I asked him how he chose the art that he lives with, knowing that every day at the gallery he strives to build other people’s collections. Lieberman shared that he began to collect art while studying studio pottery at Grand Valley State University in Grand Rapids, Michigan.&nbsp;At first, Lieberman did what artists often do with their peers: he traded art. Trading helped him meet other artists, get to know their work, refine his own practice and, of course, learn to negotiate. After moving back to Chicago, he continued to develop both his pottery and trading skills in Northeastern Illinois University’s ceramic studio.Art collecting is a highly personal pursuit, undertaken with as much emotional as financial investment. Collectors can spend years acquiring and curating their collections which hold personal meaning as well as reflect their particular tastes. Some may have significant cultural and historic value, and provide a window to the evolution of artistic movements.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419193/wyx5chkctmljrf8mmqfr.jpg"><figcaption>Pictured: Left wall, Top: Conrad Bakker, Middle: Vernon Fisher, lower Right: Ed Paschke, Roger Brown; Middle wall, clockwise from top left: Claes Oldenburg, Xiaoze Xie, Lora Fosberg, Donald McFayden, John Buck; right: Jane Hammond</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;In Lieberman’s case, he grew up surrounded by art. While he was a college student, his mother Roberta Lieberman, together with Robert Zolla, opened a contemporary gallery in 1976 that specialized in paintings, drawings and sculpture. Three years later, while still intent on becoming a professional potter, he began working part-time at the gallery.&nbsp;By the 1980s, Lieberman worked at the gallery full time, although some of his compensation came in the form of art. His mother and Zolla would have him pick a piece, pay the artist as much as if it had sold, and forgo the gallery’s portion. Not only did this practice support individual artists, it also allowed Lieberman to start his collection and refine his own eye. Later, he began to make yearly trips to New York, where he stayed with artists, fed himself on the gallery’s $25 per diem, and “pounded the pavement” as he went to studios, galleries and museums.Gradually, Lieberman built a personal, thoughtful and carefully acquired collection. It would not, however, last very long. On April 1, 1989, he stored his entire collection at the gallery while he moved from one apartment to another. On April 15, the building on Huron Street, housing Z/L and many other galleries, burned to the ground. Though works by artists such as Susanne Doremus, David Nash and Michael Nakoneczny could never be replaced, some offered pieces to Lieberman to begin a new collection.&nbsp;With insurance money that he received, Lieberman bought a 1,400-square foot house in 1990 and, as he recalls, “I started to buy a lot of art. Nothing too expensive but I started over.”&nbsp;Hanging works vertically, salon style, he quickly filled his home. He commissioned Paul Coffey to paint a mural on the 35-foot high atrium over the dining area. The six-month project used Rand McNally map color schemes to depict an ambiguous location in Ireland. The mural even incorporated the atrium skylight. Over time, Lieberman’s home became an inviting artistic destination, serving as a bridge between white exhibition walls and a residential setting. “I brought people to see how I lived in East Ukrainian Village,” he explains, “and they liked the environment that I created.” As his life at work and at home continued to meld, he hosted dinners to promote gallery artists like Deborah Butterfield, John Buck, Josh Garber and Jay Strommen. A few times, says Lieberman, he had as many as 50 guests, with four Weber grills going in the backyard and people enjoying their meal in every room of the house.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419194/vyyveqhnngjbanbplmix.jpg"><figcaption>Above: Left: Stephen De Staebler, Jim Nutt, David Kroll, Ernesto Neto; Middle: Xiaoze Xie; Right: Both works by Jim Lutes</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Following these dinners, clients often bought or commissioned art, though Lieberman emphasizes that he never sells pieces from his personal collection. Lieberman actually found his current condo thanks to a client relationship that emerged from gatherings in the East Ukrainian Village house. When collector Anne Finkelman learned that a unit in her building was up for sale, she passed the tip along to Lieberman who made a swift decision to buy it.&nbsp;The move from a house to a condo meant leaving behind site-specific and other large-scale pieces. However, the new space is more than twice as big (3,000 square feet) and many works have found a new pride of place. Collector and friend Arlene Richman gifted Claes Oldenburg’s Bat Spinning at the Speed of Light, published by Landfall Press, to William for his 60th birthday. Oldenburg’s 100-ft. tall sculpture has graced Chicago’s skyline since 1977 and, given William’s love of softball and baseball, Richman says she delights in seeing this print now prominently displayed. &nbsp;Lieberman does not have lot of furniture in his new home yet, and the clutter from living in one place for years hasn’t taken hold, but the presence of so many vibrant works of art imbues the condo with a lived-in feel. The placement of several sculptures of varying scale also add levels of dimension, including two by Butterfield, one cast bronze and the other welded copper, indicative of Lieberman and Butterfield’s 45 years of working together.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419195/ytqbclaocba5ggswixcx.jpg"><figcaption>Pictured: Top and bottom: Enrique Chagoya, middle, left: Lora Fosberg, Right: Robert Arenson</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;A row of painted Artforum covers by artist Conrad Bakker, bordering a doorway, speaks to Brian Gillham’s role in finding just the right place for each work of art in Lieberman’s collection as well as in the gallery. At home he applied his signature skill of bringing order to chaos, singlehandedly rehanging the entire collection. Gillham has worked for Z/L since 2004.&nbsp; “Brian didn’t guess,” says Lieberman when asked about the Artforum covers and other groupings. Discerning ties between concepts – from Herman Aguirre’s paintings to Jay Strommen’s ceramics – and taping out arrangements on the floor, Gillham placed works without disrupting the charm and affection that they generate as a whole. &nbsp;Lieberman has already begun to plan for the future, as Nathan Kemler, Director of Galleries and Collections at Grand Valley State University, points out. “William works endlessly to maximize the role of art in our lives and has enabled us to acquire an incredible contemporary collection to share with our community.” Among many contributions to his alma mater, Lieberman has promised GVSU – which awarded him an honorary doctorate in 2014 – the gift of his ceramic vessels, platters, teapots and sculpture.&nbsp;Often after decades of buying art, a collector slows down. So far, Lieberman has not taken his foot off the pedal and doesn’t want to part with anything that gives him so much comfort and joy. Recently, he says that he’s been prompted to buy more. “It diversifies my collection as well as ensuring that it has a higher level of museum quality. And as far as my relationships with artists, it helps that I continue to invest and believe in their work. It’s my life.”&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419196/c3y9eja9m4rf3wk6r3ye.jpg"><figcaption>Lieberman is pictured in a room in his new home with the following works: Left: Leslie Wu, top; Jim Lutes, bottom; Above ceramics: Herbert Murrie, left; David Lozano, right; ceramics by William Lieberman, Bottom: Glenn Wexler</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

The Art Dealer as Collector and Connector: William Lieberman

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419192/skugnb4ps3lbijfmhx1o.jpg"><figcaption>Portrait of Richard Hunt by Sandro Miller.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By Anna DobrowolskiEncountering Richard Hunt’s monolithic sculptures around Chicago is much like running into an old friend, someone you recognize no matter how much time has passed. Hunt’s large-scale public works are out in the elements, soaring into the skyline. Each one signifies you’re in the presence of something distinctly from Chicago, with characteristics that mirror the city’s famed architecture – structures are imposing yet delicately rendered, sturdy but changeable, familiar as well as innovative, raw but refined. The artist’s vision plus hard work is manifested in wrought steel that is put on display to stand the test of time.&nbsp;Millions of people glimpse Hunt’s sculptures regularly when arriving at and departing from Midway Airport. Additional commissions have been installed on the campuses of the University of Chicago, Divinity School and the University of Illinois Chicago (UIC), as well as on the rooftop of the Art Institute of Chicago. Many have become landmarks in their own right. The creator of these magnificent sculptures has been hard at work since 1955. He isn’t slowing down. There is still more to imagine and to make real.&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;Hunt has said about his work, “Public sculpture responds to the dynamics of a community, or of those in it, who have a use for sculpture. It is this aspect of use, of utility, that gives public sculpture its vital and lively place in the public mind.” He has contributed a great deal to Chicago and its legacy of public art. Other cities and towns around the country each bring a little bit of Chicago to their own community when a Hunt sculpture is installed. &nbsp;When we sat down this winter, inside his Lincoln Park studio that was once a transit power station, the stage was set for an industrial fireside chat about his nearly 70-year career. Warming up beside a space heater – like the ones used for outdoor cafes – in our periphery a massive steel bird manages to materialize from the pages of an open book. Titled “Book Bird,” he explains, the work will join the long list of Hunt’s sculptures in Chicago when it is installed&nbsp; in a courtyard reading space at the Obama Presidential Center, slated to open in 2025. “Book Bird” illuminates how reading and learning allow readers to enter new places and fly free. The work was the first commissioned piece of art for the Obama Center.&nbsp;Obama Foundation CEO Valerie Jarrett said, “Mr. Hunt’s personal story and creative vision embodies the uplifting experience visitors will find at the Center. Having known Richard most of my life, we are so proud to honor his work here.”&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419193/onocbfzpdt018arz3rj3.jpg"><figcaption>Richard Hunt at work in his Lincoln Park studio. Photo courtesy Richard Hunt Studio.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419194/mv3bazdju8kguk9sw0q6.jpg"><figcaption>Richard Hunt, Flight Forms</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Born and raised in Chicago, Hunt says he was greatly influenced by his mother, an artist and librarian, and he spent much of his childhood enjoying museums and opera performances, fostering his passion for the arts. “I grew up with my parents on the Southside, near Woodlawn and Englewood,” Hunt notes. “When I was around 13 I would go down to the Junior school, as they called it, of the Art Institute on Saturday to take classes.” He was soon captivated by sculpture, even building his own bedroom art studio where he could sculpt with clay long before he discovered wax and soldered wires, and eventually sheet metal and found objects like automative scrap that he could transform into abstract magic.Hunt went on to pursue an Art Education degree at the Art Institute, and it was here as a student that he began his groundbreaking career. While he undoubtedly found his love for art in Chicago and received his formal education there, the decision to remain in his hometown, despite the pull of the art world nucleus forming in New York in the 1960s, did not come without sacrifices. Hunt reflects, “I investigated the possibilities I had, or ‘should have had’ in New York. Along with friends of mine in art school we asked ourselves, ‘What would we have in New York that we don’t have here?’ I ultimately decided not to move there.” Instead, he was successful taking his works on paper, prints and sculpture to local exhibitions and Chicago galleries. Eventually Hunt says he was interested in gallery representation in New York, and he notes he still travels there, but it’s clear that his life, work and artistic inspiration has thrived in Chicago.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419195/dymhhu8l9ebidkh9jyvt.jpg"><figcaption>Richard Hunt, Light of Truth: Ida B. Wells National Monument, unveiled in 2021 in Bronzeville, Chicago. History far, CC BY-SA 4.0</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Hunt's work has been exhibited in more than 100 solo shows around the country, and he has received numerous distinctions and accolades, including being the first African-American artist to have a major solo exhibition at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. The impressive breadth of Hunt’s work is not just the result of a very long career but also a remarkably prolific work ethic and a seemingly endless well of material. In Hunt’s studio, paging through catalogs of his work I come across a photograph of a young Hunt, climbing a mountain-high pile of scrap metal in Lincoln Park where General Iron’s metal shredding and recycling facilty once was. Hunt’s cavernous studio houses similar maze-like collections of metal, with dead-ends stacked with metallic sheets, inroads leading to maquettes, tools, papers filled with notes. It is both an archive and treasure trove.&nbsp;Recently, approximately 50 of his monumental works (a dent in his 130 and growing oeuvre) went on view at KANEKO in Omaha, Nebraska. Hunt explains that with such a vast number of works to his name, each piece comes with a unique set of challenges: one needs a larger base, another needs to be sanded smooth, and yet another must be engineered to hang on a wall. Today, at 87, Hunt continues to meet artistic challenges and work on a range of notable commissions, following variable paths to creating art. He tells me that no matter what a certain piece may require individually, a strict timeline to delivery or space to develop organically, each one becomes what it is intended to be. Hunt explains “I tend to have several things in some stage of development, and others that move forward in a chain. Art is something that starts to grow until it reaches maturity. It just becomes what it is.” Much like a career that started with clay sculptures in a bedroom art studio, Hunt has become the artist he was meant to be.&nbsp;#&nbsp;</body></html>

Hard at Work at 87: Richard Hunt

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419183/tmrkyv9gacl0agawau1r.jpg"><figcaption>Pritzker Director Madeleine Grynsztejn&nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By ANNA DOBROWOLSKIMadeleine Grynsztejn is a leader on a mission. Since starting her tenure at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago in 2008, Grynsztejn has been committed to presenting art ‘you don’t yet know you love.’&nbsp;&nbsp;Today as she enters her 15th year as MCA director, she says she is ready to prove that contemporary art is entering a golden era, and Chicago is its crucible.When the MCA’s doors were shut in 2020 due to the onset of the pandemic, the museum joined the mass migration to digital programming out of a commitment to stay connected to audiences locked out of physical institutions and stuck at home. The three years that followed left the world craving reconnection that Grynsztejn strongly believes can be facilitated not only through the art found in institutions, but also through the institution itself. Criticism that bubbled up in 2020 – from outside as well as within – was ultimately a catalyst for real change.During a recent candid conversation, Grynsztejn tells us some of the most significant lessons she gleaned from steering the MCA through a pandemic amid local and global unrest, from how she listened to and genuinely responded to criticism while embracing collaborative opportunities. Each is a lesson she says will not be forgotten.&nbsp;CGN: Where do you see the biggest shift between then (pre-pandemic) and now? Is it in the type of art on view, differences in programming and exhibition themes, or something else?&nbsp;MG: The biggest shift has actually been consistency. Artists and audiences continue to care deeply about creating and presenting art. Not only can they enlighten our learnings about issues such as systemic racism, but they have also shown us how attuned they are to whether our back of the house is as ethical as the messages of the works of art on the walls and on our stage. Where there were differences, there were credibility gaps.&nbsp;CGN: So artists acted as a voice of consciousness and a kind of auditor? What happened behind the scenes? It was important for the MCA to listen and respond.&nbsp;MG: Much of our work since COVID has been very important but relatively invisible. We have intentionally put a DEI lens on our institution. We launched our first fully bilingual major exhibition, “Forecast Form: Art in the Caribbean Diaspora, 1990s–Today.” It’s what Chicago should do, especially since we have a population that is 18% Spanish-speaking.&nbsp;What we do administratively and systemically is part of what it means to be a good contemporary art museum. It’s not just how we show up on the outside; we are only as good as our people.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419184/gh74edlh19jekh31qh4v.jpg"><figcaption>”Marton Robinson, La coronación de la Negrita (The Coronation of La Negrita), 2022, chalkboard paint and chalk on canvas, sixty parts. Installation view. Photo: Michael David Rose.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: At the time of writing, MCA’s staff is at 40% BIPOC, which is a 5% increase over the last year.&nbsp;MG: On the public side, since 2020, nearly 70% of our collection acquisitions have been by women-identified or BIPOC artists. We have actually been 50% women-represented in all of our programs since 2015. We are part of this new wave and generation of feminism that is starting to finally be able to make permanent–not cosmetic–material differences, changes that are a part of our daily practices and will continue to be.&nbsp;This is the same with many of the MCA’s changes implemented during the pandemic. [Artists] have become much more attuned to wanting to be with institutions that reflect the learnings that we have all taken in. They want to support those institutions that want to change internally as well as externally. That’s the answer.&nbsp;CGN: You noted that the MCA is acquiring women-identified and BIPOC artists’ work at 7 times the rate of any other museum in the country (according to the Burns Halperin report). This is happening in Chicago. What drives you to continue being invested in this city?&nbsp;MG: What I’ve always said about Chicago is that it is a flash point and a flashlight. Which means that it’s a leader, and it is incumbent upon us to set the terms by which a great contemporary museum is defined. Chicago is currently experiencing a Golden Age specifically for black art, on a par with the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s. It’s also a Golden Age of what might be considered socially engaged art, which is one of the most important art movements since the 1990s. There is no other city that can boast the likes of Theaster Gates, the Rebuild Foundation, Emmanuel Pratt and the Sweet Water Foundation, Amanda Williams, Michael Rakowitz, Faheem Majeed and the Floating Museum, and so many others the world has noticed. There is no other city that can boast a community of artists at that level of excellence. This community lives at the intersection of art, architecture and design. We really celebrate that.&nbsp;CGN: Borrowing your flashlight metaphor here, what is something you want to illuminate for visitors returning to the MCA?A welcome. There is no single word to capture the past 36 months. I guess there was the overused ‘unprecedented’ but there’s not really a word for what we all have gone through and are still emerging from. We are now seeing people coming back together ‘post-COVID’, and it is the most beautiful, heartwarming and important thing.&nbsp;The MCA wants to reward our community’s courageous return with wonder. Our offering is to first make you curious, then facilitate that understanding, which naturally leads to bridging differences, and that naturally leads to change. And when you ask me that question, it really comes down to: we want to be the place that catalyzes art. I think that’s when it becomes an act against the worst part of the last 36 months: the divisive black and white ideology structure we are actively against.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Looking back on 2022, for instance thinking back to Nick Cave and “Forothermore”, what were some of the challenges you faced then, even with some stunning programming? How did you overcome them?&nbsp;MG: Well, I can speak to the challenge of maintaining pre-COVID level programming momentum and audience engagement.&nbsp;We continue to see the benefits of a museum that is as strong online as it is onsite, because we did learn that it clears economic, geographic and ability hurdles in ways that the physical museum space does not.You always have to ask yourself, not only what extraordinary art offering will change people’s lives and hearts and minds, but what is an ethical way in which you execute that exhibition or program? Since COVID what we’ve learned is that it is an extraordinary, and much more welcome, way of working when you partner and collaborate with an institution on an exhibition like Nick Cave or a full day symposium in partnership with DEEM journal, a biannual print journal and online platform focused on design as social practice.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419185/pc2p8nwmuq2elyoi8wpq.jpg"><figcaption>Installation view from&nbsp; “Forecast Form: Art in the Caribbean Diaspora, 1990s–Today.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: What have been some proud moments?&nbsp;MG: Creating gorgeous exhibitions, like launching our first major bilingual exhibition with “Forecast Form” or making an extraordinary show by Chicago-based artist Nick Cave happen and see it travel to New York. Hosting an unbelievable performance festival called Chicago Performs.&nbsp;I’m also proud of how we do it – so often we do this in partnership with other organizations we are honored to work with and mutually elevate.&nbsp;Our mindset has shifted very productively in the wake of the last 36 months. At the same time we have always been connected – as a contemporary art museum – to emergent thinking, doing and being.Looking forward, our exhibition this summer is a retrospective of the great artist Gary Simmons curated by our Chief Curator René Morales and Assistant Curator Jadine Collingwood. It is gorgeous work and its subject matter focuses on those hidden histories, particularly around race, that permeate our culture and that we need to continue to talk about. The first survey show Simmons ever did as a young artist was at the MCA in the early ‘90s.In August the MCA will open a show called “Entre Horizontes: Art and Activism Between Chicago and Puerto Rico” that examines the intersection between art and social justice movements between the Puerto Rican diaspora and Chicago.&nbsp;CGN: It’s clear that no institution is an island. Ongoing public discussions about institutions call for critical review of the communities involved in their existence: Who can take part? Who is it serving? You’ve mentioned that some artists have recently returned to the MCA. They are actively a part of MCA’s history, present, and future. What can you tell us about the partnerships and collaborations?&nbsp;MG: You’re so right. Another example I love is that the MCA gave Lorna Simpson her first survey show in 1992. Today she is one of our trustees, actively influencing the organizational direction of the museum.We also did this wonderful exhibition with the DuSable Museum recently, a relationship that will continue. The MCA enters into such partnerships with humility. We try to always go about our work in the right way in Chicago, as a cultural and civic agent. Part of that responsibility is to remain internationally significant and cosmopolitan.&nbsp;[For example, we recently] negotiated the gift of a historic collection of installation art from the 1990s to the present from the collection of Dimitris Daskalopoulos, which we are co-owning with the Guggenheim in NYC.Obviously this is not accomplished alone. We are in a moment when I believe the MCA is having a huge impact locally, nationally and internationally. And it’s thanks to a magnificent alignment between staff and board that is committed to fully manifesting this museum on behalf of its artists and its public.We are here to welcome every person that comes in the door and to learn with and from them. Chicago is a full partner in MCA’s growth, in heart and mind.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;#&nbsp;</body></html>

MCA Director Madeleine Grynsztejn On Chicago as Flash Point and Flashlight 

<html><head></head><body>Spring is once again the season of the visual in Chicago. Knowing that all eyes will be on this year’s art fairs, markets and notable exhibitions, we spoke to five art community leaders about what they’re working on now and looking forward to next. – GV&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419193/eibbnb4xrvikd5fb54pr.jpg"><figcaption>Photo by Audia &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>Tony Karman, Founder EXPO CHICAGO“As we approach our tenth anniversary edition, I am deeply proud of both our legacy, and the future of EXPO CHICAGO. Our annual exposition activates our great city in collaboration with, and in service of, our institutions, galleries, artists, and the broader cultural tourism and hospitality communities. Our core programs – /Dialogues, Curatorial Forum &amp; Exchange, Override, In/Situ and In/Situ Outside – and the Directors Summit continue to grow, while providing opportunities for international artists and generating important discourse for the global arts community. I remain proud that we make an annual contribution to the global image of our diverse, innovative and vibrant city and that we generate direct support to Chicago’s civic and cultural ecosystems.” &nbsp;• EXPO CHICAGO runs April 13-16 at Navy Pier.<a href="https://www.expochicago.com">expochicago.com</a>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419193/me9sctpprjflnwlxg3sw.jpg"><figcaption>Photo by M. Lindsay photography &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>Sally Schwartz, Founder Randolph Street Market“I can’t believe how much the West Loop has grown – especially at the West end and Fulton Market area, just since we had to shut down for the pandemic in 2020. Since we reopened Randolph Street Market last summer, so many new visitors are coming who have never been to an antique flea market before. Art is actually the top purchase now, next to vintage fashion. I think no matter the size of a city dwelling, these buyers want to adorn their walls.&nbsp;We’re happy to give them a lot to choose from. What makes the Randolph Street Market so unique is the depth and quality of our vintage “pickers” who hit all the fanciest estate sales and flea markets throughout the U.S., plus dealers who bring global textiles and artifacts from France, Germany, Poland, Senegal, Ghana, Kenya, Columbia, Argentina, Guatemala, Turkey, Syria, Mexico and elsewhere.”• Randolph St. Market returns May 27 and 28.<a href="https://randolphstreetmarket.com">randolphstreetmarket.com</a>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419194/mnfth9huuqrzao1njd7c.jpg"></figure>Monique Brinkman-Hill, Exec. Dir., South Side Community Art Center“The South Side Community Art Center’s (SSCAC) exhibition, where the light corrupts your face, features artists Andres L. Hernandez, Roland Knowlden, and Tonika Lewis Johnson and is curated by Lola Ogbara, SSCAC Exhibitions Manager and Curator. These incredible Spatial griots – historians and storytellers – invite you to consider how socio-economic and geographic oppressions impact the way we see (or don’t see) our environments. Hernandez uncovers embedded histories and systems of power within built and speculative landscapes to imagine these spaces otherwise. Lewis Johnson advocates for urban communities by documenting disparities among Chicago residents who live on opposite ends of the same streets across the city’s racial and economic divides. Knowlden critically deconstructs the elements of our urban fabric and its architectural histories to reassemble them as cartographic abstractions and imagined landscapes. Gwendolyn Brooks, a brilliant author, poet, and life-long resident of the historic Bronzeville, becomes the Mecca of these stories as this exhibition interrogates dilapidation, buried histories, and what it could mean to be Black in space.”&nbsp;• Opening April 7, 5-8pm<a href="https://www.sscartcenter.org">sscartcenter.org</a>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419195/rn8bhoimpinjpprqlhim.jpg"><figcaption>Photo by Meg T. Noe. &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>Karsten Lund, Curator – The Renaissance Society“Intermissions at the Renaissance Society is an ongoing series of new performances staged twice a year in our empty cathedral-like space in between exhibitions. For the tenth installment in the series—on April 22nd and 23rd—I’m excited to present a new installation by the artist Özgür Kar that pushes the boundaries of what qualifies as a performance. Özgür creates striking black-and-white animations that lean into the idea of live performance, but a bit uncannily, without human actors. His works are effectively deconstructed theater pieces and multipart soundscapes: figures isolated on their own video screens become performers in looping scenes that are both austere and emotion-filled, with existentialist overtones. He has developed his own memorable style, but familiar things echo around inside too: hints of early animated film, Saturday morning cartoons, experimental theatre in the vein Samuel Beckett, or danse macabre like in medieval drawings. For one weekend, visitors can wander around freely in Özgür’s installation or settle in like you’re watching a play.”&nbsp;More info at <a href="https://renaissancesociety.org">renaissancesociety.org</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419196/rw9e1xpbxh885jtvdjo2.jpg"></figure>&nbsp;Vincent Uribe, Gallerist – LVL3 and Arts of Life&nbsp;“LVL3 just opened up a show celebrating our 13-year anniversary as an artist-run space. It’s a tradition of ours to bring back several artists we have exhibited over the years, and this year’s roster made all new work I couldn’t be more excited about.At Arts of Life we have a small survey exhibition going on with INTUIT. Arts of Life will also be presenting work for the 2nd year in a row at EXPO CHICAGO. We are thrilled that one of our artists, Susan Pasowicz, is having her first solo show open up EXPO weekend at Ruschman Gallery.&nbsp;I’m staying busy as usual with multiple projects, but everyone should save the date, as I am in the middle of planning Arts of Life’s annual Benefit auction and dance party that is not to be missed, May 5th, where we will be honoring the one and only Jason Pickleman.”• Neon Dreams Benefit Auction takes place May 5.&nbsp;More info at <a href="https://artsoflife.org">artsoflife.org</a>More info <a href="https://lvl3official.com">lvl3official.com</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Anticipating a Season of Art: Five to Talk To

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419183/zf4zieer7ecethcokkop.jpg"><figcaption>Anna Kunz, UNSEEING GREEN, 2021, 66” x 60,” acrylic on canvas. photo: Dario Lasagni NYC &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;&nbsp;This interview is CGN's spring 2023 cover story. To subscribe to the print edition <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/print-subscriptions">please click here.</a>&nbsp;By Alison Reilly&nbsp;In 2022, Anna Kunz stepped down as Associate Professor in the Art and Art History department at Columbia College. Throughout her 20 years at the school, she mentored many young artists as they began their careers. As part of her legacy, Kunz generously established a scholarship called the AK Prism Award. “For ambition and kindness, my initials - AK,” she told me. She explained that she wants to use her work as an artist to help others. During our recent conversation, I found myself wishing I could have sat in on one of her color theory courses. Her warmth, compassion, and creativity were evident during our time together. Kunz, who recently created an ambitious and immersive solo exhibition at Berggruen Gallery in San Francisco and will be showing with McCormick Gallery and Manneken Press at EXPO Chicago, told me about her process, inspirations, and other new projects.&nbsp;CGN: When did you know that you wanted to be an artist?&nbsp;AK: I loved to listen to the WFMT radio show hosted by Harry Bouras (the Harry&nbsp; whose name inspired the artist group the Harry Who) called “On Art and Artists‚“ when I was a teen. When he said, “An artist’s job is to continually reinvent themselves,” I thought, that would be a great job.&nbsp;CGN: I read that your father worked at the Art Institute of Chicago and you used to sit in front of the Rothko painting and watch visitors’ reactions. What did you observe?&nbsp;AK: Yes. My father was in the hospitality industry. I’d have to go to work with him as a kid, and I’d sit in the gallery that housed a Rothko painting. People would stop to look, sometimes laugh, get angry, become emotional. It made quite an impression upon me–how color, and the “exterior form”, painting, could invite all of that in the viewer.&nbsp;CGN: You have talked about choreographing color - what does that mean to you?&nbsp;AK: I always feel like I understand dance, poetry and music better than painting. Choreography and dance use the body as material and turn ritual actions into a kind of poetry. It is very similar to the way I approach my process. Colors are stand-ins for relationships I observe in nature’s structures, or even the social sphere. I think of color as a body that generates forms and creates relationships and movement. My approach to choreography in painting means I pay attention to time and space on the surface to generate compositions. There is a word choreographers use–kinesphere–the arena or the space around the body. I translate this in painting to be the canvas or architectural space (in the case of my installations).&nbsp;CGN: What is a typical day in your studio like?&nbsp;AK: I arrive early and begin each day by moving around many works in progress to create new conversations between the paintings. I decide on color. I work usually with one or two specific hues at a time and apply it in a ritualistic way. I play to develop new approaches and processes in another area of the studio with smaller paintings or paper, or collages. If I’m in my studio in Michigan, I work outside and let unexpected things happen.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419184/oegjk6rrxx38uzruaktv.jpg"><figcaption>Installation view, Color Cast, The Hyde Park Art Center, CHICAGO, IL 2018. Mixed Media, sound by Beth Bradfish, 20’ x 40’ x 125’. Photo: Tom Van Endye, Chicago&nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Tell me more about your studio in Michigan.AK: Yes, it’s in Buchanan, Michigan. My husband, Bryan, and I bought the property about 16 years ago. Little by little we’ve been transforming it into a sanctuary space. There are a lot of building projects going on, so I work in a space that’s pretty raw. I have a very large deck, so I can work in sunlight or outside. A lot of times I try to do some things more experimentally, like work in the forest, or see the work juxtaposed with nature. Sometimes I leave work outside and chance things happen – leaves will fall, or insects, or rain. Things will fold in the wind differently. And I take a lot of photographs of my work in different situations. That helps me get ideas for new work. Outside is more unruly.&nbsp;I also love to work with water as a material. If there’s a water source that I am around, I can incorporate that, but even the paintings in my studio are very water based. Instead of thinking of the water as just as vehicle to send paint, I think about the water as a material, as a life force.&nbsp;CGN: What are some of your earliest memories making art?&nbsp; &nbsp;AK: My grandfather worked at the Hammermill paper factory in Erie, Pennsylvania. He was a pulp stirrer, and every time he’d visit me, he would gift me a ream of paper and new Crayolas. I would think of it as the best present and color every sheet. I got very good at inventing colors and arranging the drawings on the floor.&nbsp;CGN: And you still work on the floor, right?&nbsp;AK: Yes, in my studio I have several large paintings going at once because I envision them as one continuous work. Even though they all end up as individual paintings, in my mind, I’m still thinking about building this immersive environment. I work on the floor‚ 360°, turning them. It’s extremely physical work. There’s arranging, and a rearranging, so I can see what kind of conversations are generated through the different relationships I create. I also work on planks, which allow me to perform on top of the painting, if you will, or traverse the painting. I also use them as a measuring device sometimes.&nbsp;CGN: And you are working mostly on canvas along with paper?AK: Yes, I work in different scales. But the scales are all specific to my body. If I work on paper it’s usually 11 by 13” or 13 by 15”, which are my head size and neck size. Sometimes I work in a small format like the palm of my hand. Sometimes I work in 60 by 66, which is my personal wing span, my body measurement. They’re all scaled according to my body proportions.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419185/azn4bem4v37motckayon.jpg"><figcaption>Installation view, 2O22, Anna Kunz, Drawing With Scissors Group Exhibition. Pictured: Half Ocean, ink and dye on silk, 14’ x 8 x 3’ d. Berggruen, San Francisco, CA. Photo: Glen Creriton Impart Photography, San Francisco.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Have you always worked that way?AK: It started out intuitively with my works on paper. Sometimes those paintings end up as fabric work or they inform fabric works that are a little more ephemeral and meant to be suspended in space. I was given an opportunity at Hyde Park Art Center and it’s this giant space. I looked back at the last 10 or 15 years of my artistic output and reassigned new material identities to some of the work I’ve done. For example, a small, intimate work on paper, gouache on Sakamoto paper, would then inform a new large work on silk. The vocabulary would stay the same. It’s a way for me to almost have my own retrospective. I reinvented my previous work to inform the larger and more ephemeral work. Everything in that show was familiar to me from a previous version or iteration. Instead of just showing working from the past, I reinvented my old work in new forms.&nbsp;CGN: Can you describe your approach to designing and planning an exhibition?&nbsp;AK: I like to take a lot of time thinking about any exhibition. I never like to make work for a show, so I just keep a continuum in my studio of lots of different kinds of work. Bryan is an exhibit designer and has an architecture studio. We have had many conversations about space and scale. Planning an exhibition always starts with a small to scale model and a feeling for what kind of experience I want to present to the viewer. I do really look at the site lines of painting to painting and the relationships so that the viewer’s perception is wholly engaged, not just on a head-on vision of looking at a painting. I consider what might be happening in the periphery of vision, and multiple viewpoints.&nbsp;CGN: What are you working on in your studio now? What projects do you have coming up for this spring and summer?AK: I just closed a large show of paintings and works on paper at <a href="https://www.berggruen.com">Berggruen Gallery</a> in San Francisco.&nbsp;In April at EXPO CHICAGO I’ll show monoprints at <a href="https://mannekenpress.com">Manneken Press</a>, and paintings with <a href="https://www.thomasmccormick.com">McCormick Gallery</a>. I’ve worked with Tom [McCormick] forever – I’ve known him for more than 25 years. I’m also planning another show at McCormick for the fall, which will be more experimental.&nbsp;And I’m planning to make two different books. One is a project that is an homage to artists who have lost their mothers. I also have some non-commercial projects to think about. &nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419185/k87fwlggotgtlq3b7efs.jpg"><figcaption>&nbsp;Installation View, Anna Kunz: With Rays, 2021, Alexander Berggruen, NYC. Pictured, L to R: Saved Hour, Difficult Rhythm, Early. Each 66” x 60”, 2021, Acrylic on canvas&nbsp; photo: Dario Lasagni &nbsp;NYC&nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Can you tell me more about the homage?&nbsp;The writer Ocean Vuong has written that after losing his mom, he is “half” forever more. I’m just using that spiritual event, the right of passage that we all go through, or will have in common, to inform some of his artwork. The thought of the mother as the creator. Honoring mothers for the gift of life, but also modeling creativity. I started to experience through friends, artist friends, women friends, their thoughts about their personal losses and how they use them and try to find a way to transition sorrow into something more meaningful for their artwork.&nbsp;My mom was a really amazing reconstructive surgical nurse. She worked a lot in volunteer groups. One was called Operation Smile, which would take surgical helicopters into different parts of the world where children were suffering facial deformities. She taught me a lot about the transformative power of using your creativity. That is always in my mind when I think about why I am an artist, how did I arrive at this.&nbsp;When my mom left the planet, she left behind an enormous amount of costume jewelry. She was a pretty eccentric person! I had the jewelry, and then I noticed a lot of women friends who had caregiven their mothers had been gifted their mother’s jewelry collection when they passed on. This book, which is in the preliminary stages, is exploring that. The artist Judith Brotman and I will see where we find commonalities and similar feelings. We both had the extraordinary experience of caregiving our moms. A lot of other artist friends have also expressed that once you lose your mom you’re never really the same.&nbsp;CGN: What impact has Chicago had on your formation as an artist?&nbsp;AK: My family has been in Chicago since 1885. They came here with nothing. I feel pride about belonging here, reflecting on the many generations before me over near Wayne Avenue. The city’s grid, its hospitality, the traditions in theater and comedy all end up in my mind when I’m asked about Chicago. There is a work ethic here and an attention to craft and style that I think about.&nbsp;#&nbsp;Visit <a href="http://www.annakunz.net">annakunz.net</a> for more works by and information about the artist.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

The Many Colors of  Anna Kunz

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419113/plmoizzy0aaej99idfua.jpg"><figcaption>Sara Dulkin. Photo by Candice Cusic</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By JACQUELINE LEWISThousands of people see Sara Dulkin in her gallery. Dulkin touts that she actively posts multiple times a day <a href="https://www.instagram.com/chicagotruborn/">@CHICAGOTRUBORN </a>as a way to promote artists as well as genuinely engage with her clients, fans and (more than 21K) followers. When she’s not posting Instagram reels, making clever time lapse videos, or cheekily rolling her eyes about how easy and affordable it is to buy art, she’s running an in-person space, an online storefront and a mural consultancy. Before social media consumed a large part of her day, Dulkin forged a relationship with Chicago as a city through its street art.When I asked Dulkin, who opened Chicago Truborn in West Town years years earlier than other galleries did, how she decided to start the gallery she said it was in order to create a space for art in which she personally felt comfortable and where the art was affordable, a mission she continues today.&nbsp;CGN: Tell us about how Chicago Truborn came to be?Sara Dulkin: When I was a 20-something Columbia College student graffiti and street art helped me to better understand and connect with the city. The gallery itself arose because, as I was learning about art and attending galleries for the first time, I felt extremely intimidated in that particular type of space. Also when social media was just beginning, I was paying close attention to the tags and wheatpastes going up in Chicago. I became more familiar with what the artists creating them were doing and I was able to connect in person. Suddenly I was watching artists paint and getting an inside look at the entire process and culture. It didn’t take long before I realized graffiti and street art really wasn’t being represented here and honored in a gallery setting. At the same time I wanted to create a space that made sense for people like me – those who want to collect art, within financial reason!&nbsp;In 2011 when I first started Chicago Truborn we were vending at street festivals and pop-up shows, utilizing other retail spaces. I used that time to meet artists and grow a collector base. In 2013 the gallery became an official brick-and-mortar storefront. The rest is history.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Chicago Truborn has been considered a sort of “anti” gallery. Can you explain what that means?SD: The term “anti-gallery” was actually meant to encapsulate a feeling of community and inclusivity. In all of my previous experiences in galleries–whether it was self-inflicted or otherwise–I felt unwelcome (and often still do!). In most cases I barely even got a welcome nod, let alone any information on the exhibit. And I definitely couldn’t afford anything.&nbsp;“Anti-gallery” is representative of a space that’s inviting and accessible–one that goes against standard norms. It’s everything a “traditional” gallery isn’t. No white walls, no price sheets, no pretense. Just come on in, enjoy yourself and fall in love with some art. We offer prints from $25, smaller artisan collectibles, even pins and sticker packs starting at $10. On average pieces here are going to be in the $350–$1,500 range. I really stress affordibility, and it’s one of Chicago Truborn’s core values. We have a special section on our website dedicated to art under $150.No matter if you’re looking for a massive focal piece or just a small starter work, I want to help.&nbsp;CGN: You have coined the phrase, “Become a Collector.” Do you have stories about new collectors where that term really made an impact?SD: I have countless stories of first time customers who’ve evolved into die hard collectors. Over the last decade many, if not most, of my customers have similar stories to mine where they felt they could never afford art in galleries or, in some cases, had never visited one. It’s the most rewarding experience to be an integral part of someone’s journey as an art lover and a collector. It typically starts with something small, like a print. From there, via social media or frequent visits, our collectors are able to learn more about the artists they like while at the same time figuring out what they want their collection to look like. Price points become a bit less intimidating once a collector learns about the person and process behind the artwork. No matter what the entry point is, the result is they can’t wait to build their collection. &nbsp;One story is about a Chicago collector who was vacationing in Mexico and got talking with a woman about a shared love of art and a subject that coincided with a show we were having. Through this encounter, a piece was purchased and shipped to Calgary to a new friend and collector. Word of mouth is just as valuable as an actual sale. This story really resonated with me and I am so grateful for the loyalty of my collectors.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419114/ml7roaouesmvm1nvqj72.jpg"><figcaption>A work by JPO &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Do you find that most of your sales are in person or virtual? How does Chicago Truborn handle both experiences for the collector?SD: Throughout the last decade, the majority of our sales were in-person at the gallery. Opening nights are historically the busiest time for us. Of course since the pandemic everyone had to a pivot a bit. I’ve always been dedicated to building an online presence via social media, while also providing a seamless, easily navigated, online storefront. If you’re not providing your collectors the ability to purchase work online that’s clearly a missed opportunity. Before COVID we were 70/30 in-person/online, and now I would say we’re 50/50. I love the surge in online business. It’s incredible that this small gallery ships pieces all over the world. Utilizing social media continues to be a large part of my success; I can’t emphasize enough the importance of speaking to and connecting with your client base directly in that way.&nbsp;CGN: How has your day to day business adapted since the onset of the pandemic?SD: One common denominator between any small business who is lucky enough to have survived the pandemic is that, yes, changes were made! I started producing virtual openings immediately upon news of the shut downs. Our first virtual show was April 2020. I had my exhibitions already scheduled for the year, and my artists had worked so diligently creating all the work. I was determined to find a way to show it. By utilizing Matterport technology we were able to do a 3D scan of the gallery and provide an online experience that opened our doors to collectors all over the world. Viewers can actively participate in an exhibit however and whenever they see fit, zooming in on specific pieces, “walking” around the installation spaces, and even purchasing art through the tour. After two years I still continue to produce a virtual tour for each show (in addition to in-person). I’ve even received feedback from out-of-town artists who become interested in working with me solely based upon discovery of our virtual shows.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419114/c0wbtfvyd40y5s7mozl2.gif"><figcaption>The exterior of Chicago Truborn, with the mural by Eelco Van Den Berg</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Tell me about Chicago Truborn’s work with so many muralists and local public art projects.&nbsp;SD: Seeing as Chicago Truborn is dedicated to exclusively showing the work of street and graffiti artists, mural production has been a very natural progression. My artists love to paint big walls, and I love to make it happen. As a collector myself, I find it exciting to love a piece of public art and then be able to collect a piece or version of that artwork for my home. I’ve curated and produced dozens of murals over the last decade in Chicago. Our murals–some ephemeral, many permanent–can be found all over the city, from West Town and Lakeview to Evanston, Berwyn and beyond. One of my favorite murals can be seen on the facade of the gallery itself. In 2017 Eelco Van Den Berg painted a three-story piece on the building; it is still one of my favorite pieces in the city. I see people stopping to photograph it every single day.&nbsp;CGN: What are some of the differences between managing gallery exhibitions and murals?&nbsp;SD: Both are extremely hands-on, of course. The exhibitions in the gallery are always different, but the recipe is the same. I have a schedule and a groove that works for me. I know when I’ll be prepping the walls, when I’ll be hanging the work, when I’ll prepare the online catalogue. &nbsp;When I’m preparing for a mural, there is a recipe too, but there are different factors at play. We’re examining wall textures and looking out for safety hazards like traffic and electrical lines. I’m arranging lifts and large amounts of paint –we’re usually battling with some type of extreme weather, from rain and snow to brutal heat. We’ve done it all. I’ve learned that there is no forcing anything, and that flexibility is the key to success.At this point I have years of experience working with corporate entities as well as neighborhood groups and private commissions, and no wall is too big, or too small.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What is next for Chicago Truborn?SD: I’m so pleased to share that Chicago Truborn’s 9 year anniversary show takes place this September. Although the gallery began in 2011, the actual storefront wasn’t opened until 2013. The anniversary show will feature nine artists near and dear to Chicago Truborn – artists who have played a significant role in our past, as well as a few who have debuts with the gallery in 2023. The opening spans two days, September 23 and 24, and coincides with the West Town Art Walk. Everyone can find details and a show lineup on our website and social media.&nbsp;Chicago Truborn • 1741 W. Chicago Ave. (60622)&nbsp;<a href="http://chicagotruborn.com">chicagotruborn.com</a><a href="https://www.instagram.com/chicagotruborn/">@chicagotruborn</a></body></html>

Chicago Truborn: Sara Dulkin is a Dealer on a Welcome Mission

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419113/cq5zbhxxoyo7w4mmwfdv.jpg"><figcaption>Barbara Kasten &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>By ALISON REILLYAs an accomplished artist with more than 50 years experience, Barbara Kasten is used to traveling back and forth to Europe for her work. But during these past two years, due to the pandemic she stayed close to home in Chicago. Fortunately, she had the space to create a home studio, and when it was safe, she started working again at her Mana Contemporary studio. This fall there are plenty of opportunities to see the fruits of her labor. She has two solo exhibitions opening: the first on September 15 at Sammlung Goetz in Munich and the second on November 4 at <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/events/barbara-kasten">DOCUMENT</a> in Chicago.&nbsp;CGN: Could you tell me about the show at DOCUMENT? I know you are still working on it.&nbsp;BK: I’m working with Aron [Gent] on a new body of work, and it has to go through a lot of experimental phases to be where I want it to be. I can’t tell you exactly what it’s going to be except there will be unique pieces printed on linen or canvas, I’m not sure which one at the moment. It’s something that I actually entered into photography to do, back in the ‘70s. I really was looking for photography to be a tool in my painting practice. At that time, people weren’t thinking that way, but I started working with photograms&nbsp;and cyanotypes, because it was still a painting process. Everything I’ve done since has been either a combination of painting, sculpture or some sort of interdisciplinary gesture, because I’m not trained as a photographer, and I don’t think of myself as a photographer. I use photography, but I use it like you’d use a brush or paint. I think that is evident when you look at the 50 years I’ve worked.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Were you trained as a painter?&nbsp;BK: Yes, more as a painter. In my graduate days at California College of the Arts (at the time it was California College of Arts and Crafts), I was in textiles and fiber, but I used that as a material to make sculptures– again, not a traditional kind of fiber approach but one where I used the materials of a discipline in an entirely different way than was intended.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419113/yk1jtiibd8dbjm49d4hx.jpg"><figcaption>Barbara Kasten, PLAN 1-B, 2022. Archival pigment on raw linen, 56 1/8 x 42 1/8 in (142.6 x 107 cm). Courtesy of the artist and Bortolami, NY. &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Right. I was looking at some of the photos of the sculptural chairs that you wove. Those are pretty incredible.BK: I did those when I was on a Fulbright scholarship. That’s an indicator of what I was thinking when I was doing textiles. But then I made some photographs–called diazotypes–they look like cyanotypes but are really a blueprint that architects used. In fact, I did a book on those, when I had my show at the Graham Foundation in 2015. They published all the images I created in a book. We just called it The Diazotypes. It was limited edition, which completely sold out and really surprised me, because now it’s going for like $500, who knew! But it was an important step along the way for me. I never really did anything with figures, this was an abstraction of a figure to go along with the abstract chair.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: With a few exceptions your work has been abstract through and through.&nbsp;BK: Right. We are creating a book with Skira, an Italian publisher. Stephanie Cristello is the producer/designer/editor of the book. It features only the sculptures and videos that I did from 2015 to 2020.&nbsp;And so that’s in conjunction with the upcoming exhibition at DOCUMENT.&nbsp;CGN:&nbsp;Some of your works are photographs of installations that you’ve done. When you approach an exhibition, is documentation important to you?BK: No, maybe that needs to be clarified. I don’t make installations to photograph per se. I work in a three-dimensional, sculptural manner and use that as the subject matter of the photographs. It’s not intended to be a documentation of an installation.&nbsp;They’re joined together by the interaction of my creating something in space and then stepping out of that role to go behind the camera and record that space on a flat plane. The word “documentation” is true, but it’s not true, which is kind of like my work. Is it real or not real, you know?&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419114/fi0vhvytsp7ofkbsjvd1.jpg"><figcaption>Barbara Kasten, SHIELD IV, 2022&nbsp; Cyanotype on raw linen, steel, 24 1/2 x 24 1/8 x 4 in (62.2 x 61.3 x 10.2 cm). Courtesy of the artist and Bortolami, NY.&nbsp;</figcaption></figure> &nbsp;CGN: Did you grow up wanting to be an artist? Was it something in your childhood that you thought about?BK: Yes, I’d say pretty early on. I grew up in Chicago. This is my home town. I went to a Catholic school, and there was a nun who was a painter and within the church she had a great reputation for painting. She wasn’t an art teacher, she just happened to be teaching second grade. She took notice of me, and I started taking art lessons through her tutelage. She instilled this concept in me of being an artist, because I came from a really normal, middle class family, and I didn’t have any dreams based on family history of being an artist.&nbsp;So she really instilled that. I’d say since second grade I thought of myself as an artist, because she told me I could be.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: You went to a Catholic school in Chicago—was that through elementary school and high school?&nbsp;BK: Yes, both. I went to a Catholic, at the time, girls school. My dad was a policeman, and he was shot on duty. He was injured, so he went on a medical leave, and then my parents decided to move to Arizona for his health. I was already out of high school, and I said you’re not moving without me, I’m coming!&nbsp;That was my move out of Chicago.&nbsp;In 1959 I finished at the University of Arizona, and then I went to California for grad school, with a lot of time in between. In 1998 I came back to Chicago at the invitation to teach at Columbia College. I had been in New York for almost 20 years, and I didn’t expect to leave, but the circumstances were that my elderly mother was by herself and my brother was here. Family circumstances and this job offer made it possible. In New York, I was living off the sales of my work.&nbsp;CGN: How long did you continue teaching?&nbsp;BK: I taught at Columbia from 1998 to 2010. I was mostly involved in the graduate program there. And of course, my work was different from that of most of the photography faculty and the direction of the program, but that’s what the chair wanted—somebody to work in a different way—so it was actually a very great experience. In fact, I’m still in touch with some students that I taught in my very first year. I just had my 86th birthday, and a couple of students from my first class celebrated with me. I made good friends, and I had a better time teaching than I thought I would.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: I’m interested in how you source the industrial material for your work. I’m also wondering how your access to those materials has changed over the years.BK: I like going to hardware stores (before they grew into big box stores like Home Depot.) When I was in LA I lived near Venice and&nbsp;the boat industry. I would go poking around in different places to look at the apparatus the [boaters and builders] used–there were pulleys and wires and things like that that they used for the sails and such. I would take those and make some sort of sculpture. Not to replicate anything like a sailboat, or any identifiable thing, but as a material.&nbsp;Different materials became really important to me. I did a lot of cyanotypes, and I found a fiberglass screen that was used to keep bugs out of windows, and I used that to create flat forms that then could be manipulated into three-dimensional forms. In using that I began to see all the possibilities when light is used with screen material. I could get different layers of moirés with different lights and shadows. Again, it’s a matter of being curious about materials and hanging out and looking in places where you might find something unique. It was also the time of the light and space movement. There was a lot of plastic around, and people working in resin. I never poured in any resin, but I did use plastic. Once I find the material that has possibilities I really push looking into all it can produce. It’s a curiosity with materials.&nbsp;Maybe that’s why I don’t do any digital work. I really have to have a hand on whatever it is that I’m creating. It’s not just a visual, it’s definitely my being in the set, my moving and touching and manipulating, it’s more of a sculptural energy than it is a visual one. You can do all these things on the digital screen but it’s a different experience.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419115/ayqe8oqwkygrfakpamld.jpg"><figcaption>Barbara Kasten, Figure/Chair: 12, 1973, Diazotype, 16 x 20 in &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Yes, that’s interesting. I didn’t realize that, but it makes sense given your interests. Could you talk about your relationship with theater and performance? It seems like it’s been important to you to collaborate with performers or bring that aspect into your work.&nbsp;BK: It was really more inspired by the Bauhaus than it was by any real desire to work as a collaborative effort with performers. That came about because, in the Bauhaus, they accepted so many different disciplines and forms. [Oskar] Schlemmer made wonderful, very bizarre costumes—I love that kind of thing. I was moving in those three-dimensional environments, and it became a static image. I wanted to move away from that into something where motion was added. One step leads to another and so that’s how the video pieces came into play. Just like I used the sculpture in front of the view camera to make an image, I actually incorporate a kind of sculpture in the set of the video. The video is not just a projection on the wall, it actually is an extension of the image into the space. And I incorporate sculptural elements into it.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: At this stage in your career, what are your goals? What are hoping to achieve with your work?BK: I hope I live long enough to do some more work! I did have a modicum of acknowledgment and reputation back in the eighties in the photo world but it turns out that the ICA Philadelphia show (Barbara Kasten: Stages) and the examination that the curator Alex Klein gave to my work opened up the eyes of a lot of public and curators.&nbsp;That’s why the book–Barbara Kasten: Architecture &amp; Film (2015–2020)–is interesting to me because I’ve really developed a lot of ideas that I had when I was younger but I didn’t have the opportunity to show. Unless you can put the work out there—if it stays in your head or in your studio, it’s not the same growth. I’m fortunate to be recognized enough to have opportunities and to still be healthy enough to be making art.&nbsp; &nbsp;CGN: That’s great. And to have that recognition during your lifetime and be able to grow and learn from it.BK: For me it’s not the recognition as much as the ability to grow. I did a public mural in Toronto right before COVID. Those are things I always wanted to do but that’s an expensive project; you don’t get to do those things unless you can prove that you can or people will take a chance with you. That’s the best part about getting old and still working—lots of opportunities.&nbsp;#&nbsp;This interview appears in the Fall 2022 40th anniversary issue of CGN. To subscribe in print <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/print-subscriptions">click here</a>.&nbsp;</body></html>

After 50 Years Barbara  Kasten Still Finds a New Perspective  

<html><head></head><body>&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419077/wbappxynbyon7agcthcx.jpg"><figcaption>Installation view, works by David Klamen</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By ANNA DOBROWOLSKIEnter Gray Gallery’s echoey warehouse on Chicago’s west side. As you approach three rows of stalagmitic sculptures on pedestals, you begin to recognize common objects–a deflated doll head, shoes, frogs, and vaguely familiar tchotchkes–intersecting each other as the sculpture visually tapers to a point.&nbsp;At first glance, David Klamen’s Life Trophies may seem like a departure from his painting practice (or meta-painting practice, for the initiated). However, these ‘sculptures made of sculptures’ bring to the forefront the philosophical questions recurring throughout most of Klamen’s work: “How do we know what we know?” His Life Trophies ask a new question: of what stuff is life made?&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/zEk5I2JVyBUeJchp2iUsOdk8XQeDZRJ0NtBni_lVFiEqy2uQN3IU2SME-qcMYr4T4TGXQ4FuK08RBSD33s0DAjWEgpLD7bEhVyrC2QH-Ei2_qEfAmUq5UFtBr3p0595694MIjMMcnQXQNA5zEA"><figcaption>David Klamen</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;About five years ago Klamen sketched the first prototype for Life Trophies. “When I was making these sketches I was thinking of myself as an accumulation of experiences, memories, and forgotten incidents.” The process of transforming his ‘sketches of heaps of ambiguous elements’ to life is what he ascribes to ‘overflowing gumption’, knowing which artistic rules to break without jeopardizing the structural integrity.&nbsp;From the beginning, he knew that these drawings required a third dimension. “I envisioned them as made out of ceramics. I also knew that they needed to not be found objects.” Though ceramics was terra incognita for the painter at the time, Klamen soon found himself hiring a U-Haul to lug back tons of mostly unused slip cast molds to a COVID–vacated ceramic studio. There, using a combination of slip-casting–a technique of pouring liquid clay into plaster molds–and hand throwing, he began creating individual ceramic objects that he would later stack, fuse, or pitch like a ball. “They are formed in many ways by chance and gravity and contingent relationships,” he says. If a piece did not fit in a regular kiln, Klamen would modify a garbage can and unrestrainedly throw in slip cast pieces for bisque firing.&nbsp;Because he was able to reuse some of the molds, we can recognize the same shape (ie. sparrow, asparagus, worm; one visitor remarked that the gaping frog crowning one of the sculptures was also a soap-dish) in a different piece, a new iteration, severed, reattached and so on–an artistic experiment of assembly akin to young Frankenstein fabricating his creature. “I'm not premeditating. I’m discovering it as it’s being made. I allow them to be constructed out of all of these broken and bent elements,” Klamen says. Sometimes it seems like the only thing fusing the objects together is the glaze, which ranges from a highly reflective chrome to painted greenware.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/CN1Iw4XwY0lDy-k96MDV5iI9E9VLRcXeqObVlW9D7YeGIblDiX73uRIWydTsKgMGrBG9c6zCicEkRyh0fd12D5N6EIb4WMCJDOEOWbbrCVzzk7k4rAgHZh-Kf50ifb1l9S9r96dFGa9vgtsLMQ"><figcaption>David Klamen, Untitled, 2021–22, Glazed stoneware, Dimensions variable</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“The final resolution of these pieces takes place with trying to find the right answer to what goes on top,” he continues. “It’s usually something that has a sense of appreciation and commemorates the present moment of finishing the piece.”&nbsp;Lodged in one of the sculptures, a candle drips wax over the sculpture's royal-icing glaze. At exactly 7pm on the night of the opening, a member of the gallery’s staff swiftly blows it out, a universal signal that the party is over.&nbsp;**&nbsp;CGN: Can you tell me more about your sketches for Life Trophies. How did they evolve into this new body of work?DK: The first sketches were made 5 years ago, and the first piece was made somewhere around 4-5 years ago. Most of the works were made in the last two years when I had complete access to a vacant ceramics department in Indiana. Throughout this time I’ve continued my painting practice, but this has really grown into a meaningful part of my creative effort.&nbsp;In my painting practice, I have experience visualizing things without needing to make sketches, but this was far enough outside of my artist vocabulary that they required me to sit down and sketch the idea. They solidified what was in my head and made sense. Once that happened I knew that I needed to make something.CGN: You mention that your paintings tend to be more meditative, ‘almost quiet,’ whereas these sculptures require some degree of collaboration, spontaneity and looseness. What links the two practices together for you?DK: In my mind all of my work revolves around this consistent interest I have in exploring answers to the question of ‘how we know what we know’ and then testing different historical answers. Some of my paintings have been linked to empiricism or Eastern methods such as daimoku that suggest that we gain wisdom and enlightenment through repetitive chanting or memory and introspection. Even Op-art, which might suggest that some knowledge is a purely optical experience. These sculptures derive from that, of me trying to answer the question: how do I reconcile the complexity of my thoughts with this one moment that appears in my brain and consciousness?&nbsp;CGN: You take great care into what goes on top of the sculpture. What do we know about Trophies?&nbsp;DK: I think of Life Trophies as a metaphor for accumulated experiences and memories that are incomplete—at times cherished, at times regrettable, at times uncertain—that coalesce in some ways together to create a sense of self. [With the trophy,] there's a sense of recognition for past accomplishments and a way to solidify something of your life for the future. It’s something that you can share with the people around you. In these cases it is the bittersweet absurdity of them—the humor of the past attempts and the shared optimism of the current moment.&nbsp;CGN: A serious question: what was the strangest thing you found yourself doing or including in this body of work?DK: I find myself laughing and smiling and feeling a sense of ridiculous accomplishment when I add something like this frog, which in some ways seems so kitschy and naïve and in other ways is destined to be one of the future elements to pile on top of. There is a sense of spontaneous discovery—I take whatever I have I put on top and then I walk away. Then there’s a sense of capturing it when it is right that isn’t a narrative, it doesn’t finish a story but it has a certain sense of hopefulness and appreciation and maybe naïveté.&nbsp;*When I ask Klamen about current projects that he is working on, he shows me some recent sketches with more Borg-like, or atomic, flourishes. “I would say I am a workaholic, but that sounds too disciplined. It’s more that I get up and do what I want to do–and what I want to do to work on my next piece.”&nbsp;Even when we don’t know what’s next–in art, in life, in a sentence–it's reassuring to think that we can compound everything that is imperfect and uncanny into art. “I think that aesthetic experience and visual experience are one of the most profound things that convinces us that the things that we know are what we know.” Lately, he tells me I find myself wondering what a consolation prize would look like–the visual equivalent of ‘Congratulations, you’re here.”&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/events/david-klamen-life-trophies">David Klamen’s Life Trophies is on view until June 24th</a>&nbsp;</body></html>

Out of the Mold and into the New: David Klamen’s "Life Trophies"

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419059/wl7xvfy909vzxrxed8vt.jpg"><figcaption>Sungi Mlengeya, Mdada, 2020, Acrylic on canvas, 59 1/10 × 55 1/10 in &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By ANNA DOBROWOLSKIPicture being so close to a piece of art—no white-gloved museum guard barking at you to step back—that you could almost smell the coconut. Just by pointing a finger at the wall, an artist appears, espresso in hand, ready to answer your questions. This is not a fever dream, or a pitch for the next “immersive art experience,” but the home and art collection of Chris Craft.&nbsp;Craft is a tech entrepreneur by day, and a self-professed ‘amateur’ art aficionado by calling. Though Craft considers himself a novice art collector, his collection is already outgrowing his Ravenswood home.&nbsp;*&nbsp;When I visited Craft at on a January morning, he was drinking coffee with Jabari Jefferson, a mixed-media artist from Washington D.C. As any Chicagoan could attest, a bleak mid-winter visit signals a true friendship.&nbsp;“Jabari’s like a brother to me.” Craft says when he introduces the artist of The Library Series. “He was just teaching me about some art techniques. It’s how I like to learn about art.” It’s not unusual for Chris to talk about artists as though they are a part of the family. Each painting features a character, or a personal history, which anchors him to a specific moment in his life.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419060/eyhfbcpaumcl00ui8ls2.jpg"><figcaption>Artist Jabari Jefferson (left) and collector Chris Craft seated in front of a painting by Jefferson</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;The three of us talked about how artistic talent, and by extension objects, gets passed down as we made our way to the piece that started it all: a sculpture by his father. “I started collecting as a tribute to him.” In 2017, he remembers visiting the Art Institute for the first time after his father died. While there he gravitated towards pieces by Matisse and Braque, colloquially known as ‘Picasso’s competitors.’ He stopped when he recognized Caravaggio by name rather than reputation. “That’s my stepbrother’s middle name!” he thought. Suddenly the fraternal association convinced him that art had always been a part of his story, and he realized he wanted to actively add to it.&nbsp;One of Craft’s first acquisitions, and the first painting that greets us in his living room, is Sungi Mlengeya’s Mdada. For the uninitiated, Mlengeya is a Tanzanian self-taught artist, whose mastery of minimalism and striking contrast is unparalleled. Mdada, the cool woman in the portrait, wears negative space well, making any viewer feel under-dressed. She seems at home in the Craft residence, as do his other 150+ pieces.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419060/sgxqsllxyxoqdayabecv.jpg"><figcaption>Kajahl Benes, Alchemist, 36 x 48 inches, Oil on canvas over panel, 2021</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Across the hall we encounter Kajahl Benes’ Alchemist. The painting’s sculpted protagonist looks like he is carved out of onyx. He is caught in a moment of pensive illumination, interrupted only by Craft leaping onto the desk to point out the lustrous sheen of the painted robes.&nbsp;Craft’s energy and appreciation for art and its history is contagious. When I ask him about his approach to collecting, he admits that he is still learning. Guided by intuition, this makes his collection more intimate– refreshingly less ‘branded,’ or motivated by boosting one’s portfolio. Yet it is still both business and personal.&nbsp;If Craft is drawn to a piece or believes in its message, he makes the effort to get his name on endless waiting lists for art (these days, getting an organ transplant might seem easier than acquiring a coveted artwork). “I love living with art; it’s my own personal and emotional album,” he tells me.&nbsp;Deeper into his home, Craft’s basement feels like an exclusive club. It’s also where we enter the ‘un-curated’ part of the house (the guest room has an 83”x 68” in painting by Aplerh-Doku Borlabi titled Tomboy. Doku’s ‘tomboy’ is literally made from coconut.) Here, we play the-floor-is-lava around an unfurled canvas that was just delivered—it’s a painting by London based artist Richard Mensah titled Hold On, part of his Why We Resist series. Mensah visually juxtaposes the 1968 Olympics medal ceremony in Mexico City with a cotton plantation.&nbsp;My gaze moves from overseer on horseback to police car, cotton fields to polypropylene surgical face masks littered on the ground. Among them, I can see a poster of Breonna Taylor, captioned “Say Her Name,” that echoes a page from yesteryear.&nbsp;As we move from the background to the foreground - past to present - the focus ends up on a young girl. Like Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People, she charges ahead on her scooter, raising a Black Barbie donning Nigerian colors instead of a French flag. Her black sock quotes a new iconography that athlete John Carlos sparked when he took off his shoes at the Olympic ceremony. One wonders: if history is written by the winners, then who are the illustrators? Craft’s basement holds some of the answers.*<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419061/eznjgwrvbrcqu9soau0f.jpg"><figcaption>Collector Chris Craft seated in front of Contemporary Ghanaian artist Aplerh-Doku Borlabi’s&nbsp;Tomboy, 83” x 68”, coconut sheath and oil on canvas, 2021 &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Though Craft has had an eye towards preserving history through art for awhile, in recent years, it became important to him to find art that speaks to the times we are living in now. “I do not want these stories to be lost,” he says. His way of holding himself accountable and keeping the conversation going was to found the&nbsp; Black Collectors Guild, a network of collectors interested in supporting emerging artists while also helping each other navigate the nebulous world of art collecting. From conversations that have come out of the group’s time together, Craft has been able to fill his walls with work by artists such as Max Sansing, David Aplerh-Doku, Solomon Adufah, and Anthony Akinbola, to name a few. It is important to note that though Craft is refining his interests and building his art network, his tastes continue to evolve. At one point, he recalls, he was drawn towards bright colors and textures, seeking out Akinbola’s weavings of durags into artwork and Sansing’s saturated designs that can rupture monotony. Ismael Kateregga’s Nakawa Market Corridor even offered a kind of visual escape for Craft during a time when actual travel was not possible. “I wanted to be there [in that painting],” he explains.&nbsp;*As we wrap up our tour, Chris points back to Jabari’s Response of the Navigator (Library Series, 2021) and A Bright Future, They Say (Library Series, 2016-2018). Jabari says he had almost forgotten about the Bright Future piece, as it was a painting he worked on B.C. (before COVID). Each of these pieces seem to offer a snapshot retrospective of the artist’s own trajectory as he moved away from repetitive painterly strokes in favor of incorporating textiles, texts, and found objects. A morning spent discussing art felt familiar after so much time mostly isolated from others. Here a collector’s basement ends up being more than a place to look at art or entertain. It has becomes a place to leaf through books on African Art and debate where artists will go next. Here, fortunately, is where the man wearing white gloves waves you over for an opportunity to really get to know the art, an artist, and all the stories behind the scenes.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Chris Craft: A Collector Discovers Friends and History Through Art

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419036/zkiwuymwn0gotiwgmmsw.jpg"><figcaption>Candida Alvarez in her Baroda, MI studio. Photo by Sarah Ayers, studio manager.&nbsp; &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By ANNA DOBROWOLSKI&nbsp;Who’s afraid of Picasso? Many artists love to hate him—his audacity, controversial personality, and, we daresay, knack for abstract have earned him a spot in the “one-name-only” hall of fame. Candida Alvarez, through her dazzling configurations, shows us that associating Picasso with mosquito bites is just one way to upend the canon.As we learn in a recent conversation with Alvarez, Picasso is yet another source to be reckoned with, and further proof that to survive as an artist we don’t always need to start from scratch. Sometimes we just need to scratch the surface.*New normal is a funny thing. I caught Alvarez adding colorful daubs to a canvas (I, a floating head on her screen, and she, wearing a yellow apron speckled with paint). This is the first year in her new studio after an impressively productive and fruitful year. In February 2021 she was granted the Foundation of Contemporary Art’s Helen Frankenthaler Award for Painting (2021). On September 22, 2022, she will be honored, alongside Chicago art-dealer Monique Meloche, at Chicago Artists Coalition, <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/events/work-in-progress">Works in Progress: Radiance and Reunion</a>. Add to the accolades her recent appointment as F.H. Sellers Professor in Painting at the School of the Art Institute and it’s a wonder how she does it all.“Why did I suddenly move to Michigan?” She says, “I listened to that voice that said ‘Girlfriend, you need to be here.’”&nbsp;By “here” she means a 2,500 square foot barn-turned-studio with lots of natural light, replete with a library, quotes by Frida Kahlo, Rainier M. Rilke, and John Cage, house plants she brought from Chicago—and paintings of course.One observation from the move was the change in color-scape, and how it makes a cameo on her canvases in surprising ways: “I’m surrounded by a lot of brown, lately, from all the trees and mud. There’s even a hops farm and a prairie next door. I’ve been living in the city for so long that the move was a huge transition. The chatter you usually hear in the city disappears.” Since listening plays a major part in her practice, she uses the change in volume to muse over the artists she invites onto the canvas. “I spend a lot of time listening to them instead, and searching for patterns.”*<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419037/kqkkl2pcdghm9dzihzem.jpg"><figcaption>Candida Alvarez, Stand, 2020-2021, acrylic polymer paint with glitter and uv-cured ink on canvas 80 x 60 x 2 in, 203.2 x 152.4 x 5.1 cm. Courtesy of the artist and GAVLAK</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Alvarez is currently working on a new painting, in all its kaleidoscopic glory, for her son. “I just finished putting some bling on it.” Next to it are a couple of paintings from Pica Pica, a series loosely based on Picasso. Several paintings from her Pica Pica series will be on view at Monique Meloche Gallery’s booth at EXPO CHICAGO in April.“I grew up looking at these dead artists, who seem to follow me around like ghosts,” she tells me. “I started bringing Picasso into the studio because he was someone I have looked at for a long time—everybody knows him. Because it was 2021, I thought ‘Wow. In 1921, Picasso painted Three Musicians.’ I could either love Picasso or hate him. Actually, he makes me itchy. Hence the name of my series, Pica Pica— from me pica (it itches)— because I was getting bit by mosquitoes. But also because I wanted to figure [the painting] out.”To do so, she uses a range of sources such as personal photographs, drawings, and famous paintings. “I have cultivated a way of working where I can source from the history of painting and weave in what is in front of me in the present,” Alvarez explains. “Lately I’ve been inviting Bob Thompson to the canvas, but I find inspiration in everything: Matisse, Kahlo, Piero della Francesca are just a few of the artists I’ve worked with.”&nbsp;After she manipulates or distorts her reference she is then able to fully dive into the process. “I might enter a painting with a certain color palette in mind, but it might change in order to achieve that harmony. It’s like alchemy.”Painting on this scale requires the meticulousness demanded of Paint by Numbers—except that in this case the artist is responsible for both lines and colors. “There’s a membrane that gets pierced. It begins with a drawing that is added to, or taken away from. The drawing is a holding pen for the liquid,” Alvarez reveals. Due to the complexities of each piece–and each one comes with a unique set of challenges–Alvarez tends to focus on one piece at a time.&nbsp;*&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419038/kducqbefwghendhmvxjp.jpg"><figcaption>Candida Alvarez, Pica, Pica 5, 2021 acrylic on linen 20 x 20 in.50.8 x 50.8 cm. Courtesy Monique Meloche Gallery, Chicago</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Alvarez compares the end result to a palimpsest: an unearthed, multilayered, vellum-y object harking back to medieval history. Her Palimpsest series emerged from that fascination with transparent layers and traces of what lies beneath the surface. She recently finished showing these “chatty abstractions that mix and remix themselves” in GAVLAK Gallery in LA.“I wanted to work with a series of ten drawings that I had done two years ago, and bring them together. I looked at words that were ten letters long and came across ‘palimpsest,’ which is a beautiful word all about process. It has multiple histories. Painting is like that for me. I assemble it from a Rolodex of images that I cut and paste, not in a collage-sense, but by shifting shapes by adding and taking away from them. I don’t hold on to an ideal, I just love the process of finding, searching, and witnessing the painting become itself.”Having worked with a myriad of materials, from vellum for drawings, watercolor pencils and acrylics on gessoed linen, to PVC plastic hung from aluminum frames, she explains that, with each layer she learns how the materials react to each other. She seeks balance between the base material, which sometimes peeks out from under matte, subdued shapes, pops of pigment, undirected lines, or bling of course.&nbsp;“I used oils in the past, but over time I really loved acrylics. You just needed the paint, the brush, the bucket. I loved that it was fake, that it was plastic. It was not beautiful. But I loved the rawness of the material.”*&nbsp;Alvarez always suspected she would become an artist. As a student at Fordham university, she was mesmerized by the oversized portfolio her friend was carrying for drawing classes. “It was settled, I was going to take art classes, too.”Through the encouragement of some of her professors, such as Jack Whitten, she abandoned her tiny paintings in favor of larger, more robust works. This cemented her decision to return to Yale and later Skowhegan. “I just fell into it and never stopped. I can’t believe I’ve been doing this for a long time.”One of the most impactful experiences was producing artwork at the then PS1 Residency. “I was affiliated with Museo del Barrio in Upper Manhattan in the ‘70s. It was glorious because it was full of Latinx artists. It was the first time that I encountered real collaboration, in that we could work on something together.” The collaborative spirit finds its way into her teaching as well as her practice.“I have been teaching at the Art Institute for over 25 years, and I find that it brings contemporariness and conversation to the canvas. When you are in collaboration with others, the conversation becomes another way of being present. In the same vein, it helps us be critical.” Otherwise, painting can be a solitary endeavor.Alvarez moved to Chicago in 1998 to take up a teaching position at SAIC and has since become a community staple. One of her first shows in the city was through Hyde Park Art Center, Mambomountain in 2012. In 2017, she was commissioned by the Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events (DCASE) to create paintings to be displayed on Lower Wacker Drive.However, in a manner of months, she experienced a tremendous set of losses. Before the exhibition Here at the Chicago Cultural Center closed, her father died. Three months later, Hurricane Maria swept across Puerto Rico, leaving her to worry about how to reach her mother and sister.&nbsp;“I was born in Brooklyn, but my parents were from Puerto Rico. It is an interesting thing, because while we are Americans, they were first and foremost Puerto Ricans. In New York we became ‘Nuyoricans.’ In a way that absence makes the longing deeper, there’s a kind of romanticism about it, a connection to a place even when you aren’t on that land.”While the hurricane brought these connections to the surface, Alvarez was always invested in the process. So, she wanted to create work that stood on its own. It was during this period that she created Air Paintings, or paintings “with little feet,” as she calls them. &nbsp;When she set out to create the paintings, she realized she didn’t have to work from scratch. “I was able to use the proofs from the Chicago Cultural Center, and work on top of them. Air also became this material I had to consider. I thought about airplanes and the passage from Puerto Rico to Chicago. The whole idea that a lot of them had to rely on planes to see family.”For Alvarez that was a turning point. Gathering shapes from that painting, and embracing the flexibility of the material in order to make something that you can almost see-through.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419039/sdpkj7ha40pzc2y7pdmo.jpg"><figcaption>Candida Alvarez, Mary in the Sky with Diamonds, 2005 Acrylic and enamel on canvas 72 x 84 in. 182.9 x 213.4 cm, Courtesy of Art Institute of Chicago &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“I love to laugh,” she explains. “You have to keep yourself alive! You can’t take yourself so seriously. I like to be the person who is flexible, who can move at the drop of a hat.”“For people who trust themselves,” says Alvarez, “who have the courage to be themselves, doubts and risks are all part of the process. You have to be willing to take the risk. There is no manual. Plus, there is a mystery to the kinds of processes that choose us.”In 2022, Chicago Artists Coalition will honor <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/events/work-in-progress">Candida Alvarez and Monique Meloche</a> during its annual fundraising event in September. Candida’s work will be featured in the Museum of Contemporary Art’s upcoming Forecast Form: Art in the Caribbean Diaspora, 1990s - Today (Nov 19, 2022–Apr 23, 2023). If you are in New York, her work in no existe un mundo poshuracán: Puerto Rican Art in the Wake of Hurricane Maria will be on view at the Whitney Museum of Art Nov 23, 2022–Apr 2023&nbsp;More information about Candida Alvarez and her work may be found on her <a href="https://www.candidaalvarez.com">website</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Catching up with Candida Alvarez

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image image-style-side"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419041/gh5zwtcewmd9hugjyjgk.jpg"><figcaption>Nick Cave. Photo: Sandro</figcaption></figure>By ALISON REILLYNick Cave’s highly anticipated retrospective, Forothermore, is a much-needed respite, a shared space to both celebrate and grieve as we emerge from the isolation of the past two years. Opening at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago (MCA) in May, the exhibition presents an in-depth view of Cave’s multidisciplinary works and still-expanding influence. The artist, designer, educator, and mentor to many in the Chicago community will not only be honored, in typical showstopping style, in the galleries at the MCA but at locations across the city, including: Art on theMart, the DuSable Museum of African American History, 679 North Michigan Avenue, and the Garfield Green Line CTA station, demonstrating how Cave never does just one thing. Highlights of the MCA’s exhibition include Spinner Forest, an immersive installation comprised of thousands of kinetic spinners and Beaded Cliff Wall, made of millions of colorful pony beads threaded by hand onto shoelaces.Cave, born in Fulton, Mississippi, received his B.F.A. from Kansas City Art Institute. He is known for his transportive performances and iconic Soundsuits, which he originally made in response to Los Angeles Police department officers brutally attacking Rodney King in 1992. 30 years later, Cave continues to make Soundsuits both as a form of self-expression and reflection of society. His work has evolved to include videos, bronze sculptures, and large-scale, immersive installations. Along with his day-to-day work as an artist and as a professor at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, in 2018 Cave, with his partner Bob Faust, co-founded Facility, a 20,000 square foot multidisciplinary art space in Old Irving Park in Chicago. Through Facility, Cave and Faust were able to provide support for students and artists throughout the pandemic when many other organizations and institutions shut down.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419042/rfeo8awh1yqaiqj15xa9.jpg"><figcaption>Nick Cave, Wall Relief, 2013. Mixed media including ceramic birds, metal flowers, afghans, strung beads, crystals and antique gramophone. 4 panels, each: 97 x 74 x 21 in. ©NickCave. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;*&nbsp;CGN: What was your experience as a graduate student at Cranbrook Academy of Art like?Nick Cave: Amazing! I mean to be surrounded by [Eero] Saarinen’s architecture and to be part of an institution so focused around the arts and crafts was fueling. But it was the balance between Cranbrook and Detroit at the end of the day. I needed both to really make it work for me.&nbsp;CGN: How has teaching at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago influenced your art practice?NC: I don’t know that it influences my practice as much as it provides a way for me to give back, as well as stay connected and current being surrounded by the students. I like to be around young, creative minds.&nbsp;CGN: It was so generous for Facility to host the 2020 SAIC master’s graduates in Fashion, Body, and Garment thesis exhibitions. Please tell me about your relationships with your students and what it meant to be able to give them that space during such a tumultuous time?NC: My relationships with my students are really important, because they’re the next generation of artists, creators and designers. I’m curious to see what they do with themselves and how their careers are designed and shaped. But you know to be able to host them here at Facility was really just the right thing to do. Bob Faust and I have the space and the desire to use it this way.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419042/ymmlz775k3umhjafmmz1.jpg"><figcaption>.Nick Cave, Untitled, 2018. Mixed media including a table, a carved eagle and 119 various carved heads. 48 1/4 x 120 x 45 1/4 in. ©NickCave. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: What do you see for the future of Facility?&nbsp;NC: The future Facility is just as it is today. To facilitate whatever is needing attention at the moment. A place where we can act immediately with passion and purpose and without waiting for approvals or grants or permission for that matter.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What significance do rabbits or bunnies play in your work?&nbsp;NC: It stems from our Easters as kids on my grandparents’ farm. You know, with seven brothers, we would all get our own live bunnies each year that would then live on the farm. It was such a joyous time, exuberant and really sort of epic.&nbsp;CGN: How did you decide to incorporate cast bronze elements in your work?&nbsp;NC: Bringing cast bronze elements into my work was my way of preparing myself for my first bronze sculpture. It was really me learning and getting a solid understanding of how I could utilize the medium in my own way.&nbsp;CGN: How has your relationship with the Soundsuits changed since you first created them after Rodney King’s beating?&nbsp;NC: Soundsuits 2.0 are a more extreme version of the original, in terms of the materiality and couture making, but they are also sort of shrouded in a black netting that darkens the light dramatically. What’s going on in the world will dictate the next sort of direction or the shape that they may take...&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419043/eghiiv0rx60brm3covtd.jpg"><figcaption>Nick Cave, Bunny Boy, 2012. Digital transfer file. 14:05 min. ©Nick Cave. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: Can you tell me about your new installation for the MCA retrospective - Spinner Forest?&nbsp;NC: It’s the first piece that you encounter when you come into the exhibition, and it’s a reflection on the state of Chicago and the world. It shines a light on all the senseless gun violence that’s happening right in our own backyards.&nbsp;CGN: Tell me a bit about what it has been like working with Naomi Beckwith to organize the retrospective? What has your collaboration looked like?&nbsp;NC: Working with Naomi around the exhibition has been amazing. Just getting the invitation alone was exciting, and then to collectively come together and really put everything out on the table and distill the show was a very interesting process, too. I am grateful for this opportunity, and it’s been really quite lovely to work with her.&nbsp;CGN: Your retrospective is not just limited to the galleries at the MCA. Why was it important for you to have collaborations with other organizations like DuSable Museum and Art on the Mart?&nbsp;NC: It’s about bridging gaps, building relationships, and making connections. We all need to connect with our neighbors and what’s better than art to do that? Bringing my art into other neighborhoods and into the public realm helps us find commonalities and ultimately to unify.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419044/ios1hul4hsmrsmru7dhj.jpg"><figcaption>Nick Cave, Soundsuit, 2011. Mixed media including vintage bunny, safety pin craft baskets, hot pads, fabric, metal, and mannequin. 111 x 36 x 36 in. ©Nick Cave. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Note: this is the cover interview for the Spring/Summer issue of CGN. To receive a print edition and <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/print-subscriptions">subscribe for the year, click here</a>.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721419045/mtecdnvy3jkbt2fvuu2e.png"><figcaption>The cover of the Spring/Summer 2022 Issue of CGN features Nick Cave's Wall Relief, 2013. Mixed media including ceramic birds, metal flowers, afghans, strung beads, crystals and antique gramophone. 4 panels, each: 97 x 74 x 21 in.©NickCave. Courtesy of the artist and Jack Shainman Gallery, New York.</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;NICK CAVE: ForothermoreMuseum of Contemporary Art ChicagoMay 14–Oct 2, 2022&nbsp;<a href="https://mcachicago.org/exhibitions/2022/nick-cave-forothermore">mcachicago.org</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Nick Cave: Art Guided By History in the MCA's Retrospective

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721417561/i3nnnwp5y7jt1zabdwmm.jpg"><figcaption>Margo Wolowiec, Look to the Oceans, 2020, Handwoven polymer, linen, sterling silver leafed thread, reflective mylar emergency blanket from disaster preparedness kit, deadstock organic cotton, dye sublimation ink, acrylic ink, mounted on linen support. 46 1/2 x 72 inches &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>BY ALISON REILLYMargo Wolowiec, who lives in Detroit and studied at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), uses a complex process involving digital image manipulation, transfer paper, and a floor loom to create arresting textiles that, from a distance, read as paintings. Inspired by current political and social conditions, Wolowiec considers how existential threats like climate change are expressed through our increasingly digital lives. This fall, her work will be featured in an exhibition showcasing artists from the Midwest at the Contemporary Arts Center in Cincinnati.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: How have the past 18 months since the pandemic started been for you (as an artist)? How has your art practice changed during this period?Margo Wolowiec: The pandemic has been a challenge for me, the early months especially drained my energy levels. It’s been pretty inspiring that a lot of artists and musicians have put out some really beautiful and thoughtful work throughout the pandemic, but for me it was a low time creatively. I do think it has influenced my practice quite a bit though. I have been making new work that I feel really connected to, I’ve been taking much more interest in my own mental health and wellbeing, so I’ve also slowed my pace; I say no to things more than I used to, and I take care to protect my energy. I feel like the work I’m currently making is a reflection of that right now.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: When did you know that you wanted to be an artist?MW: I’ve wanted to be an artist for as long as I can remember. I was encouraged at a young age by my art and music teachers to pursue the arts. For a while I thought I’d study piano, but as I got older I became much more interested in painting and drawing. I begged my parents to help me go to art school. It was a tough sell, but I eventually convinced them that it was the only thing worthwhile, and they helped send me to SAIC. I’ve been focused on building a career as an artist ever since and worked service industry jobs for quite some time until I could make the switch to a full-time studio practice. I can’t see any other way of living—I know I’ll be making art in some form for the rest of my life.&nbsp;CGN: What was your experience like at SAIC? Do you still have connections to the city of Chicago?MW: My time at SAIC was really expansive, and the interdisciplinary model really worked for me, especially since my understanding of art was pretty limited going in. I really had only a background in drawing and painting, so being able to take classes in any discipline and learn printmaking, lithography, darkroom photography, fiber and weaving, as well as the critical and theoretical foundations of each discipline, was eye opening for me. I fell in love with weaving while at SAIC and have been weaving ever since. I still have a lot of connections to people I went to school with, so many shows I do or lectures I’m invited to give are through SAIC connections. I also met some of my favorite artists and mentors at SAIC - Christy Matson and Josh Faught have been especially supportive. I have learned so much from them and am a huge fan of their practices.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721417561/ahd2qhymonpt4anldkel.jpg"><figcaption>Margo Wolowiec,11 Cities, 2019 Handwoven polymer and linen, dye sublimation ink, acrylic paint, indigo dye, reflective mylar from emergency preparedness kits, hot rolled steel 70 x 66 inches</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: How did growing up in Detroit influence your decision to become an artist? How has the city changed since you moved back?MW: Detroit is a really incredible city. It’s a small town in a lot of ways, compared to New York/LA, but its creative force is so vast. So many hugely influential artists have come out of the city, especially in the music industry – it’s the birthplace of Motown, I’ve seen Smokey Robinson walking around town, we are home to Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Madonna, Alice Cooper. I grew up seeing Detroit as a sort of creative nexus, and since you can feel that energy here, being an artist always seemed like a totally achievable career path to me. I never really questioned that. The city has changed a lot since I’ve moved back. It’s being gentrified – there are some serious concerns around that – and I hope the city does more meaningful work to protect Detroit’s oldest and most vulnerable residents, but it’s still the same, in that it is home to amazing art and music, and there are even more galleries and working artists here now than I think there ever have been.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What is your studio like?MW: My studio changes often because I have been moving around a lot. Currently it takes up two rooms of my house. Working from home has been a great setup throughout the pandemic, but I usually work outside of my house. My looms and equipment take up a lot of space, so I prefer commercial loft type buildings that I can expand into, especially if I’m working on large scale projects. I’m also big into work/life balance and try to keep a healthy equilibrium between my home life and studio life.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: How would you describe your studio practice?MW: My workflow fluctuates—when things are busy I schedule my weeks and months in advance and hold regular studio hours for myself so I stay on top of everything. When things are slower, I’ll wander in and out of my studio at a more leisurely and unstructured pace. My process is very labor intensive and physically demanding, so I take care to avoid burnout and protect my time to stay refreshed and energized in my studio. That’s when I feel most productive.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: What is your process to create your textiles?MW: I usually start with an image collection process based around a specific idea or theme. I’ll use Google searches, with keywords or hashtag and geotag searches, and mine various online image sharing platforms for source material. I collect more than I use and let myself have a free-flow association between images, texts, screenshots of news articles, or whatever pops up based on my searches. After I choose the sources I want to work with I piece them together in Photoshop. This is when I start to envision how the source materials will translate into a woven form. After I get the images where I like them digitally, I print them out onto transfer paper using dye sublimation ink, then transfer the images onto sets of individual threads. This transfer process I’ve developed is based on a traditional fiber dying process called Ikat that is used to create repeating patterns or pictorial motifs. Once the images are transferred to the threads, I weave them together on a floor loom. I play with the images a lot while I’m weaving them, manipulating the threads as I work to either keep the image in focus or let it blur and distort. I also incorporate other non-traditional materials in my weavings and sometimes hand paint or over-dye the textiles to highlight or obscure certain areas.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721417562/vl66eqplmtrgxn9ql6ln.jpg"><figcaption>Margo Wolowiec,&nbsp;Seed Surge, 2020Handwoven polymer, linen, sterling silver leafed thread, reflective mylar emergency blanket from disaster preparedness kit, deadstock organic cotton, dye sublimation ink, acrylic ink, mounted on linen support 47 x 45 inchesCourtesy of Jessica Silverman Gallery</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;CGN: How did you develop an algorithm to source images for your work?MW: I used to use an algorithm to automatically mine images based on geotag or hashtag inputs. For instance, anytime anyone uploaded a photo with a geotag in a set defined area, that photo would automatically download to a folder on my desktop. There are stricter data protections in place now, and this auto mining process is blocked on all image sharing platforms. This is likely because companies were mining personal data for advertising purposes and who knows what else, so it’s probably a good thing that this isn’t available for anyone to use anymore. Now I hand sift to gather my sources and collect images and data that are licensed under Creative Commons or other open source licenses. I cull from an array of social media and image sharing platforms, as well as news media platforms, or any other relevant databases based on what I’m interested in.&nbsp;&nbsp;CGN: Some of your new work (Seed Surge, Exit Plan,) includes reflective mylar from emergency preparedness kits, which stood out to me in the list of materials. How did you source this material and why did you decide to incorporate it into your work?&nbsp;MW: This stems from my interest in the darker corners of the internet – the Reddit rabbit holes and conspiracy theories that are born in online forums. The 2016 election really amplified a wave of misinformation and general fear that we will be dealing with for a long time, and these anxieties played out on the internet through a hyper-focus on emergency and doomsday preparations. I made some sculptural panels at that time that incorporated a woven copper mesh that is used to protect sensitive equipment from electrostatic interferences and electromagnetic waves. This sort of technology trickles down to wearables, such as hats that are woven with copper or silver shielding to protect the wearer from wireless radiation, or pouches that shield cell phone signals to ensure the device and all its private data goes undetectable.&nbsp;I started collecting a variety of materials like this to incorporate into my work and am currently playing with emergency blankets that are found in preparedness kits. They shield and protect the wearer with lightweight and high-visibility heat-reflective mylar. In my work this material signals protection and safety while sounding an alarm.#&nbsp;</body></html>

Margo Wolowiec: An Artist Translates Signals of Our Times

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418944/eum9ebjsvyxyymspnnsu.jpg"><figcaption>Pooja Pittie in her studio. Image courtesy of Petra Ford &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>BY ALISON REILLYIn February 2020, artist Pooja Pittie rented a large studio at Mana Contemporary. Supported by a 3Arts Residency Fellowship at the University of Chicago at Illinois, she was looking forward to the opportunity to create large-scale paintings, “moving as much of my body as possible, laying down paper on the floor, getting really close to the surface,” she explained to me during a recent conversation. However, almost as soon as she had moved into the new space, Governor Pritzker issued a stay-at-home order for all Illinois residents. Like many across the country, she was in a state of shock. Although Pittie has lived in the U.S. for 22 years and considers Chicago her home, her family lives in India, so her feelings of isolation and anxiety were compounded by the distance between them.&nbsp;Fortunately, Pittie still had her home studio set up, so she could continue to work, “but it didn’t feel like I could just continue to paint as before,” she said. Instead, she gravitated towards drawing and started making small-scale compositions with stitching on top, using yarn she had at home. “I really delved deep into stitching, sewing, knitting, not in any skilled manner,” she admitted, “just remembering what I was taught at my all-girls school in India.”Pittie was diagnosed with a rare and incurable form of progressive muscular dystrophy in 2000, but her symptoms did not begin appearing until about a decade later. “I was able-bodied for many years living with the diagnosis,” she told me.&nbsp;While she was looking forward to experimenting in the large studio at Mana, she acknowledges that her home studio is most conducive to her workflow. “With my needs, it’s pretty clear that I need workspace at home. Now with my complementary practice of working with drawings and yarn, that happens in my living room in the afternoons when I’m too tired to be in the studio,” she explained.&nbsp;“My day is divided by energy. I’m the most energetic in the morning so I go into my studio, and then when I’m tired, I’m creating from the couch. But I’m creating a lot. I spend a lot of hours with the drawings. Not to sound like a cliché, but the studio can be anywhere. I just need to keep creating and doing something with my hands.”&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418945/fzhsqopfp2yfhxnbqlrt.jpg"><figcaption>Pooja Pittie, Fields of Consciousness, 2021, acrylic on canvas, 50 x 40 inches. Image courtesy of McCormick Gallery &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Pittie’s drive to make art has been present throughout her life, even before she identified as an artist. Growing up in India, as a child, she taught herself to draw by copying cartoons, images from fashion magazines, and still-life pictures. Although her peers noticed her art skills, she was focused on becoming financially independent, inspired by her father who was an industrialist. She excelled at school, eventually earning accounting certifications and pursuing a career in finance. In 1999, she moved to the U.S. to be with her then-husband, and, although she considered going to art school, she instead earned an M.B.A. from the University of Chicago. Her interest in art persisted, and, after her divorce in 2005, she started taking evening painting classes through SAIC’s Continuing Education program. While she enjoyed the classes she was taking, making art was not a priority in her life as she was balancing the responsibilities of being a young, single mother and running her own children’s book business.“My studio, my space has changed so much in a very short span,” Pittie explained. In 2015 when she started regularly drawing, “it was on my couch. Then I moved to the dining table with watercolors, then into my little home office. I set up my easel there and it eventually became a full-blown studio, and then I moved to a bigger apartment so that I could have a larger studio space.”&nbsp;The continuous expansion of her space to accommodate a growing art practice felt natural to her. While she had exceled as a businesswoman, she said, “It’s not my innate skill, which is why I always felt so inadequate. My dad is a natural-born entrepreneur. I thought that’s who I was, and he thought that’s who I was, and everyone else around me probably thought that too, but I didn’t feel like that. Establishing a regular art practice really made me feel like much more of an expert than all my years of training.”Pittie made her first acrylic painting in 2016, and since then, she has completed residencies at Chicago Artists’ Coalition and Hyde Park Art Center and gained the support of McCormick Gallery. This fall, a series of new paintings and drawings will be on display at the gallery in the West Loop. “My current work is very motivated by needing to express energy, which is diminishing and is an extremely precious resource for me,” she said. “I’m finding that color is the way that I’m expressing this energy. Both in the paintings, the drawings, and the fiber work that I’m doing, the starting point seems to always be color.”Her recent abstract paintings feature looser, more gestural brushstrokes. In her previous work, she overlaid small dots on these marks, as if to mask some of their irregularities. As she spent more time with her drawings and weavings, she began to move away from the repetitive, precise stokes. Her new canvases teem with an energy similar to that found in the abstract expressionist paintings of Joan Mitchell. &nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418946/xwkduksefsm6ioovcsyn.jpg"><figcaption>Pooja Pittie, Time Spirit, acrylic on linen, 30 x 40 inches. Image courtesy of Robert Chase Heishman</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“I work on multiple pieces at the same time, so I’ll start several canvases when I’m feeling energetic and I really want to capture that energy, and they’ll rotate on and off the easel,” Pittie explained.&nbsp;While she now fully embraces her life as an artist, in retrospect, Pittie has identified two major fears that delayed her in pursuing her passion. “How could I be an artist if I haven’t been to art school?” she said, “And I saw how physically challenging it was. I used to wonder how am I going to carry canvases back and forth? How am I going to carry a portfolio? I didn’t use mobility devices back then but still it was difficult for me.”Pittie was raised by her parents to believe that to be successful, you must attain the highest possible education in that field. “If you’re not ready to do that or if, for some reason, you haven’t done that, then what makes you think that you can have a committed career?” she asked herself. Her second major fear is familiar to many artists, “What if I get bored of making art every day? Or if I enjoyed it all these years, but what if I don’t want to make it every day?” She nevertheless admits, “Both of those notions are so laughable right now. They haven’t mattered one bit. I am definitely not bored! These are the fears, the blocks, you put in front of yourself, and they can be quite difficult to ignore.”Along with her exhibition at McCormick Gallery this fall, Pittie is working on a commission by the University of Chicago to create a work for the Pritzker School of Molecular Engineering, which is celebrating its tenth anniversary this fall. This is the first private commission that she has accepted since January 2021, and while she is very excited to work with the University of Chicago, she wants to be careful not to overwhelm herself.&nbsp;“I feel like I’ve been running so much since 2016. I’m extremely grateful for how quickly things progressed and how organically they’ve grown, but during the pandemic, I have been reevaluating what is truly important. I am trying to hold onto all that slowness.”&nbsp;Pooja Pittie: New Paintings, opens September 16 at <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/organizations/mccormick-gallery">McCormick Gallery</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Pooja Pittie's Colorful Energy

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418952/teto4m2el49f8bmza9nn.jpg"><figcaption>Artist and writer Audrey Niffenegger is the founder of the Artists Book House. Photo by Anna Dobrowolski &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>By ANNA DOBROWOLSKIRavens, cobwebs, dust, and mold. Against the backdrop of a decommissioned lighthouse, six years of neglect turned Evanston’s historic Harley Clarke mansion into a setting befitting a horror movie. Now, a new foundation dedicated to the book arts is set to reverse the shudder. Artists Book House is the brainchild of Audrey Niffenegger, a visual artist and author best known for her novel, The Time Traveler’s Wife. In July, she invited me inside to talk about how she will make the house a home to the book arts. &nbsp;Since the City of Evanston’s council decision on February 28th to lease the coveted Harley Clarke Mansion to Artists Book House, paperwork quickly escalated to groundwork. The task: to restore and update the Harley Clarke grounds. Undaunted, Niffenegger faces the challenge with John Eifler, Nick Patera, and the team at WB Olson, Inc. on her side, in addition to a team of trusted board members and volunteers.&nbsp;We shouldn’t expect a housewarming party anytime soon, though. As she shows me, there’s plenty to be done between now and its opening in 2026.&nbsp;***<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418953/d8rpfqhxabrhqi1po6uq.jpg"><figcaption>A view of the conservatory at the Harley Clarke Mansion. Photo by Anna Dobrowolski</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“Here we are, surrounded by phantom books,” she laughs as we walk into a wood-paneled library. For any self-respecting writer, empty bookshelves usually warrant concern. Not to a history-lover like Audrey, for whom an old setting for future bookish pursuits is a lesson in time travel. (As if renovating a mansion wasn’t ambitious enough, she is also working on the sequel to her best selling novel, The Time Traveler’s Wife.)&nbsp;On our tour of the impressive 22,000-square-foot space, she leads me to the conservatory where ABH will hold paper-making workshops. Curious onlookers appreciating the gardens curated by Jens Jensen Gardens could peer into the windows to witness the transformation of pulp to fiction, or any other genre.&nbsp;Steps away, she pictures a bookstore, art gallery, and a cafe with a view of Lake Michigan even the most bibliophobic visitors could appreciate. She recalls her first time visiting the Harley Clarke mansion – then the Evanston Arts Center –when she was a fourteen-year-old printmaking student. It was the beginning of a time-tested relationship between herself and the building. After graduating from the Art Institute, she returned to Harley Clarke to teach for 15 years.&nbsp;Outside, ornate lead gutters catch our eyes; the original pipework was forged by the grandfather of her friend, a blacksmith. Now, the third generation of metalworkers keep the tinkering tradition alive, proving that the mansion’s future depends as much on conservation as it does on innovation.&nbsp;As expected from a mansion left to its own devices for six years, Audrey’s current ‘studio’ flaunts the unglamorous hallmarks of a home whose maintenance has been deferred. Rooms once housing offices, darkrooms, and various studios remained bare, save a few visitors. She points to flour left by the city of Evanston on the ground, “That’s to see where the raccoons are coming from!” (A pawprint is just my size...) To make the three-story building more accessible to humans rather than critters, she plans to convert an empty passage next to the butler’s pantry, a vestige from the building’s residential past, into an elevator.We make our way to the basement and take turns deciding whether the ghoulish green paint was original. Here, Niffenegger envisions a printmaking studio because of its capaciousness, even if it is more secluded.&nbsp;Her work is cut out for her, sure, but there’s something elemental about rolling up the proverbial sleeves to build something new.***<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418953/nvjtq9eyg2ao7tfo6mbh.jpg"><figcaption>Vacant no more. Evanston’s coveted Harley Clarke mansion, built by Architect Richard Powers for the Clarke family in 1927 will be the future home to ArtistS Book House, a foundation dedicated to the book arts. Photo by Anna Dobrowolski &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>What do the book arts mean to you, personally?&nbsp;Back in the empty library, Audrey describes the real star behind the entire operation, the book arts. That is to say, “any idea or skill, philosophical or conceptual approach, that you could bring to bear on the idea of the book,” she tells me. Traditionally, papermaking, printmaking, calligraphy, and bookbinding fall under this category.&nbsp;“Sometimes an idea exists in the ether but never takes on physical form. You might approach bookmaking because you want to make the actual object or you have a story to tell, like in a memoir or epic poem,” says Audrey.&nbsp; “We are interested in a multitude of approaches and are here to help people realize their ideas of the book and not be limited with what a book can do.”&nbsp;What goes inside the book is just as important. ABH will function as a literary center, library, bookshop, as well as an arts center. “What really excites us is to have all this exist in one building where the disciplines can cross-fertilize,” she says. Someone writing an epic poem might go downstairs and discover people who are printing or experimenting with movable type.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418954/rvv6ii2vbfkgpangtcvf.jpg"><figcaption>From 1965 to 2013 the Harley Clarke mansion housed the Evanston Art Center. This used to be the old darkroom for enlarging and developing film. Photo by Anna Dobrowolski</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“There’s more than just making paper for books. I’m thinking about paper sculptures Erin Cramer makes. Her work is inspired by vegan taxidermy.” Anyone in the community, from paper virgins to seasoned bookmakers, could flirt with other paper-centric projects such as tunnel books, fiber-based sculptures, comics, puppeteering, or zines. For the completely unconvinced, the ABH’s website hosts various tutorials and interviews. “There’s so much that can happen when you get people from different disciplines together.Having multiple disciplines under one roof appeals to Audrey, who has been carving a niche into an international and locally established bookmaking tradition since 1994. “This would be the third-generation book arts center in Chicago and the ‘spiritual heir’ of the Book and Paper Center in Columbia College Chicago.” In 2019 the center closed to make space for classrooms, leaving its artistic members virtually homeless. Once the Artists Book House is completed, it will be a second homecoming.After the fall of the center, there was some concern whether small book-making traditions could ever grow obsolete. Following prolonged digital engagement, we admit longing for imperfect paper and DIY projects in true ‘arts and crafts’ fashion. In the 19th century, William Morris, a champion of the book arts, led the UK-based Arts and Crafts Movement. In his later years, he went on to develop the Kelmscott Press to produce luminous leather-bound books replete with calligraphy and illuminations-- a gothic revival that renewed interest in the book arts, if only as a productive outcry against mass-produced books which he notoriously called ‘ugly’.&nbsp;Is Niffenegger a modern-day William Morris? I wonder. The same unadulterated passion towards handicrafts is there. Her approach is to open these arts to the community as an educational center to keep the traditions alive.&nbsp;***<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418955/otpummbfb8ogyjpipdul.jpg"><figcaption>Harley Clarke’s former conservatory doorway. Photo by Audrey Niffenegger &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;“Dare we ask another pandemic-related question? What did the process look like? How does a new organization take shape and establish community these days?”“It’s been such a strange time. Before the pandemic there had been a tremendous amount of discussion surrounding the building.” The Harley Clarke had almost been demolished in 2018 and faced many competitive proposals since. Niffenegger and her board turned in the Artists Book House proposal for the Harley Clarke Mansion in February 2020, about a week before the world shut down.&nbsp;It wasn’t until May of the following year that they received the keys. “I was watching the city council vote on the proposals on a laptop while I was cooking dinner. We were not expecting it to happen when it did!”“The pandemic changed everybody’s focus like that,” she adds, “I don’t think anybody can really know how the pandemic will change the art scene or Evanston or funding or any of it. Artists Book House could have been just as easily Artists Book Warehouse or Storefront! It just happens that we now have a house.”&nbsp;Getting the keys to the house in the middle of the pandemic had some advantages. “Because we are so small and new, we didn’t have any established patterns to uphold or break. We didn’t have any staff. We didn’t have a building.” Despite not having any physical classrooms, they managed to build an online presence and archive of videos, interviews, and tutorials on their website. Not to say the pandemic was in any way good. “In a way it leveled the playing field amongst art institutions. It was actually okay for us that not much happened. It meant fewer people to disappoint. Whatever craziness we’re about to do we will do from zero.”&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418956/tfiwql8yruen7yl4u5tk.jpg"><figcaption>Downstairs, the former billiard room will be transformed into a printmaking studio. Photo by Anna Dobrowolski</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Though the opening is far away, are there any dream collaborations or visitors?&nbsp;“It goes two ways. There’s a lot of amazing local talent that we would like to uplift if we are in the position to do so; and there are people we would like to be here so that people can experience different artists. At some point, we would love to host conferences for the North American Hand Papermakers, the Guild of Book Workers, College Book Arts and the Ragdale Foundation, to name a few. You just never know who will be interested or inspired to do something.&nbsp;Now that things are starting to take shape, how are you planning on reining in the community? What do you need from artists, community members?&nbsp;“We’ve been receiving a lot of support. People really want another central gathering place, and this happens to be a nice stage because it’s a hinge between Chicago and the North Shore. We are trying to partner with bookshops and a coffee shop. A lot of people are donating books. People are interested in volunteering.&nbsp;There’s a lot to do between now and the day we open to the public, which we hope to do in 2026. We are hoping that we can use the time for fundraising, constructing and doing all the physical work. At the same time, we are trying to let people know that we are slowly coming into existence. One thing that we are planning to do is to organize tours and find ways to bring people in so that they don’t have to wait five years.”&nbsp;&nbsp;***For the time being, Niffenegger and her board are looking forward to mingling with people at events such as Evanston’s Out of Space concerts. Other events that will take place on Harley Clarke grounds will be announced on their <a href="https://artistsbookhouse.org">website</a>.&nbsp;A tip: keep your eyes open around Halloween time. A house with phantom books is sure to set a scene.&nbsp;#&nbsp;</body></html>

In Pursuit of Bookish Things: Audrey Niffenegger on Building  Artists Book House  a Home in Evanston

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418944/lt8vydd0cxlu6vwtvtuz.png"><figcaption>Isobel Neal (center) with daughter-in-law Jeanette Sublett and son Langdon Neal, pictured at the family’s law office of Neal &amp; LeRoy in front of a painting by Robert Dilworth</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;By GINNY VAN ALYEAIsobel Neal was looking for something to do. By the 1980s she had been a retired teacher for more 10 years, and when Neal told her friend Ann Nathan that she wanted to open a gallery, Nathan said, “You must be crazy.” Neal responded, “Well, I guess so.” Nathan would know, as she had opened her own gallery in River North a few years prior.&nbsp;Neal wasn’t afraid of crazy, having managed a classroom of 60 fourth graders during her years as an inner-city public school teacher at Beethoven School on 47th street. In fact, it was art that helped her manage the daily chaos, wielding it as an incentive to work.&nbsp;She recalls, “At Beethoven if you had any difficulties behaving, you lost your chair. Nobody wanted to stand all day, so art worked as the treat and a motivator. They wanted to get their work done so they could have some fun.”At home she employed art in the same way with her young son Langdon, who still remembers working on potato prints and string paintings he was proud to put up on the wall.&nbsp;Neal’s impulse to open a gallery was no vanity project. She had years of experience as an educator, and she had gradually found herself with a new lesson to teach, having realized that no one in Chicago was representing the scores of Black artists whose work she was seeing. She knew she wanted to do something about it.&nbsp;*&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418945/zbc2lil6emsu5edr9nd8.png"><figcaption>Painting by Alvin “Al” Loving &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Prior to living in Chicago, Neal lived in New York City, where she attended NYU. When she took an interest test upon graduation, she was still surprised that her top result was art. “I laughed,” she recalls. “I said, “Art? What am I going to do with that? At the time [women] were either going to be&nbsp; teachers, social workers or nurses. Those were the options. So, I never thought about art for years, except that I liked it.”Neal taught in Chicago for two decades. When she retired, she wanted to pursue other interests fully. At her husband’s encouragement she took a sabbatical and went back to school, spending time in California getting a master's degree in anthropology/archeology. Upon returning to Chicago she taught adult education classes on African pre-history and archeology at the Northwestern Center for American Archeology as well as at the Field Museum.Around the same time she was asked to chair the Black Creativity Art Show at the Museum of Science and Industry. It was when poring over slides for the juried exhibition that Neal says she began to see so many artists from all over the country send in work they wanted to submit.&nbsp;Neal began to think, “Who’s representing all these Black artists? What I found was that this town, at that time, only knew about Richard Hunt. Other Black artists who were living here, or not, would drop off a piece in a gallery, leave it on the floor, and if somebody saw it and wanted to buy it, that’s the way it went. Nobody was getting an exhibit or any real backing.”<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418946/ja6soageom9stqqicddq.png"><figcaption>A painting by Calvin B. Jones hangs in the law offices of Neal &amp; LeRoy &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>Neal was inspired to look around for a space to rent so that she could begin to think about building a gallery program around Black artists. “I wanted the kind of space that everybody else had then,” she says.&nbsp;It was the 1980s, and things were buzzing in the area that had become known as River North. It was also at that time that she got Ann Nathan’s frank opinion on opening a gallery. Neal thought she was on to something, crazy or not, and she settled on a space, located at the corner of Superior and Wells streets, that she could divide up into three distinct areas to show different artists simultaneously.&nbsp;Neal knew the building from years earlier, during her time as a teacher for Homebound, a public school program that was the Zoom of its time. She had been assigned to teach a child who was unable to come to school, and she was sent to a family that lived at 200 W. Superior. She remembered just standing outside the building. It was in such disrepair, she says, that she didn’t go in. “I sort of walked in the hall and thought, ‘I’m not going up there. Nobody’s around to tell me which apartment it is.’”&nbsp;The neighborhood changed quickly, once pioneering galleries, run by figures like Rhona Hoffman, Donald Young, and Carl Hammer, moved in, and the district expanded and became established. Eventually Neal moved into a renovated space in the same building that she didn’t want to go into all those years before.In search of artists to exhibit, Neal ventured to New York, using some connections to meet new artists. She went on a shopping spree of sorts, buying a range of art from artists like Ed Clark, Romare Bearden, and Jacob Lawrence, and she visited African American art dealers.For the gallery’s first opening, at the start of the fall art season in September 1986, Neal decided on a show of work by local artists as well as others from around the country whose work she admired.&nbsp;&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418946/rzyhjog3lxzpi6npmhlb.png"><figcaption>Neal in her gallery in the 1990s</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Chicago artist William Carter was part of the inaugural show. Neal recalls, “He had quite a following, but he had been selling out of his house. A big, heavy man, right before the opening, I realized he would need a place to sit, so I ran across the street to another gallery to borrow a big, antique chair.“Carter sat in the corner, and he just loved it, because it was like a throne. There was a big crowd. All my family thought I was crazy, but my friends said, ‘We’ll come.’” The success of that evening was the beginning.&nbsp;“[Openings] became a meeting place,” remembers Neal. “The day after I was scrubbing [scuffs] off the white walls. I was really busy, and it was exciting. I was never bored. I was thrown in with artists who were as fun to talk to and be with as you could ever imagine.”In 10 years, Neal says she showed 100 artists, doing exhibitions every six to eight weeks, usually with three different artists’ work at a time. She was never at a loss for artists.&nbsp;“I didn’t have to find anybody. They found me from everywhere. I had an artist who was Haitian, she was living in Paris. I had people from Canada and from Mexico. There were so many Black artists who needed exposure.”Jeanette Sublett, Neal’s daughter-in-law, who is married to her son Langdon, remembers, “The gallery was sort of the place, at the time in this area, for these artists to be exhibited, not to mention represented. Isobel always threw a great opening. Sometimes she had live music. There was always great food and drink. A lot of people attended; it was a place to be and to be seen.”&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418947/cohkygwl27ocbmkkytmf.png"><figcaption>Neal seated in the antique "throne" chair in the gallery&nbsp;</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Giving Black artists the opportunity and visibility to be full participants in the art economy drove Neal. She also needed to make that a reality for the gallery in order to continue her work. Though electrified by the enthusiasm for her gallery, business success was not immediate. Neal realized that selling enough art to pay the bills was going to be tougher than she expected and that the teaching nest egg she had used to get started was rapidly running out.&nbsp;“I thought I had a lot of money until maybe two or three months went by,” Neal says, “and then I thought, ‘Oh.’ So, the family stepped in and became backers, and it became a family business.”Her exclusive support for Black artists gained the attention of other prominent Black Americans. She once hosted a reception at the gallery for Mae Jemison, the first Black female astronaut, when she returned from a space mission. Neal recalls that Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley offered to have a reception for her at Soldier Field, or Navy Pier, but Jemison said, “I want it to be at Isobel Neal Gallery.” Neal had taught with the astronaut’s mother at Beethoven School and had discussed the gallery with her a little. “It was a huge crowd,” Neal remembers. “I have a wonderful photograph of the aurora borealis that she took from space. She wrote on the top, ‘To Isobel Neal Gallery.’ We just got flowers for her, but she was the star.”&nbsp;*<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418948/esu139yc1ugcy2kwzal5.png"><figcaption>A painting by Clarence Ferguson on view at Neal &amp; LeRoy</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;Neal’s roster of artists ranged from well-known figures like abstract painter Ed Clark, and Mexico-based Elizabeth Catlett, who studied with Grant Wood in the 1930s and showed prints with the gallery, to many artists who were not (yet) widely recognized but who did find recognition in line with their talent. Herbert House, a sculptor, sold so much work through the gallery he fulfilled his life-long dream and retired to Hawaii. Preston Jackson and John Rozelle both were offered jobs at the School of Art Institute because of their exhibition history. Neal’s crazy idea to start a gallery gave many artists the critical exposure and CVs they needed to reach new levels.&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;Neal’s husband, who was a prominent attorney at his own firm, considered that no artist should have a show without a sale. That commitment greatly scaled up the amount of art the Neals collected, because, if there was no sale, they bought something. The focus was on the artist’s success.&nbsp;Neal had been collecting art for quite a while before she began selling it, and she always enjoyed returning to New York and visiting galleries. She fondly remembers one trip when she picked out a Charles Alston painting as a birthday present. But, she confesses, what she and her husband largely did to fill their walls and amass their collection was attend events like The South Side Community Art Center yearly benefit auction as well as Hyde Park’s 57th Street Art Fair to find a range of appealing prints, sculptures and paintings, even commissioned portraits. In at least one such case a picture of young Langdon Neal was painted by an artist on the spot in the street.&nbsp;*<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418949/a3rybwcjwfp4i3xiyjcj.png"><figcaption>Neal, second from left, with an artist and collectors at an opening</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;As the child of serious collectors, Neal’s son Langdon grew up exposed to art from the beginning, but what sticks out the most from his youth was making art. His mother incentivized and entertained him as she did her students. “We passed time during those early years doing art projects in school and at home. It was just kind of what we did to fill in the day.”Over the years he graduated from art making to being a part of the collecting. Now they each consider their family’s leadership and art mission a collaborative effort. “It is definitely a family art collection,” explains Langdon. “Part of it is in my mother’s home now, part is in Jeanette’s and my home, more of it’s here in our [law] office, and we have things in storage. Between all of us we don’t have enough walls to display our artwork.”&nbsp;The collective effort is a shared pride. “It was a combination of,” admits Langdon, “the enjoyment of giving African American artists a place to show their works, something they never had, and carrying that into displaying their art in places where people could enjoy them. Even now having art throughout our [law] office means clients as well as our staff can enjoy this work. The collection was bigger than just the art itself. It was about opportunity and exposure for Black artists.That is still our focus today. Even outside the art world we try to act as mentors and supporters.”Though the collection is dispersed amongst the Neals’ homes and their office, I was surprised to learn that it has not been exhibited in its entirety. Works by artists like Catlett and Clark have been loaned to the Museum of Contemporary Art and other museums, but so far, not the majority of the collection. Assembled over a period of decades, drawn from several sources and by multiple people, the sheer volume of art and historic material that has come together should capture the attention of a very ambitious curator.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418950/nfssxzikxm1boivxlykj.png"><figcaption>Robert Dilworth</figcaption></figure>*<figure class="image image-style-side"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418951/kox1qvw24gmlbfe8ekrr.png"><figcaption>A bronze sculpture by Preston Jackson</figcaption></figure>Neal closed the gallery in the late 90s. Today she is focused on her work with the Art Institute of Chicago, where she sits on the Board of Trustees and on several of the museum’s committees, continuing to work on behalf of Black artists. Neal serves with Denise Gardner, who will officially become the first Black person and first woman chairperson of the board this November. The two women are friends, and Gardner is a former client of Neal’s gallery. “Denise and her husband Gary credit me for getting their collection started.”When I ask Neal about how she sees her role today from the position of a trustee of an internationally renowned museum, compared to her time as an art dealer starting out, she says she’s seeing a real attempt at change, so far, with some of the Art Institute’s collections and the representations within them–a natural continuation of what inspired her to start the gallery.&nbsp;“These are big changes,” she explains. “This has been a huge upheaval that we’ve lived through, not only through COVID, but George Floyd. [The Trustees] have looked at pages and pages of changes and had Zoom meetings galore about where to go next.”&nbsp;While much of the conversation around representation is very familiar to Neal, she says the perception of value in the market and within institutions is different this time. It’s what she sought for Black artists decades ago. When I ask her why the change might be for real now, she refers back to those busy openings at the gallery in the 80s.&nbsp;“I can’t say that nobody ever did it before, but there wasn’t a dedicated initiative to show Black artists. I feel that my greatest contribution, really, in 10 years at the gallery, was to make the art world know that African Americans had disposable income. I think that is the basis of why nobody widely showed work by Black artists before. They didn’t believe that anybody would buy their art. At my gallery, they saw people literally lining up. These artists were worth the money.”&nbsp;Because of Neal, no longer could collectors, and others, think Black art was only created and shown on the South Side, when every few weeks a diverse clientele was packed into a popular gallery on the North Side of Chicago, showing exclusively Black art.&nbsp;Neal never stopped being a teacher, and she continued to use art as a motivator. “I purposely wanted to have the gallery where everybody else was,” she says. “That was my whole drift: to educate, I suppose, everyone. My philosophy really was that art was universal. Everybody can enjoy it, and everybody can recognize talent. That’s the story.”&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

Stewards For Generations: The Neal Family's Influential Support for Black Artists

<html><head></head><body><figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418944/bmo97jbsxxmn4rhmze9b.png"><figcaption>Tony Fitzpatrick. Photo: Peter Rosenbaum</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;&nbsp;Fall 2021 CGN Cover Interview. Subscribe to receive the print version <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/print-subscriptions">here</a>.&nbsp;&nbsp;By GINNY VAN ALYEAFresh from a positive report from his cardiologist, artist Tony Fitzpatrick invites me to sit down and indulge in some fried chicken and cake. Following a 2015 heart attack Fitzpatrick, at 63, is full of life and fire. A widely-known creative force in Chicago and well beyond, the artist says he was given a second act (or third, or fourth, if you listen to his stories of previous close calls) in order to keep making art.&nbsp;Fitzpatrick’s stories are legend, and he loves a listener. More than that, he loves an audience. He’s sure to get one this October, when he opens Jesus of Western Avenue, an expansive exhibition taking place at the <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/events/jesus-of-western-avenue">Cleve Carney Museum of Art</a> in suburban Glen Ellyn. The artist will also be publishing Apostles of Humboldt Park, a book featuring a collection of work Fitzpatrick created in isolation: signature drawing collages of birds he’s observed and admired throughout Chicago’s famed west side park.As much as Fitzpatrick loves connecting with people and sharing his stories, from Facebook to a theater stage, he seems most at home in his west side studio, working on his latest collages as well as directing deliveries and shipments of art, hosting visitors or introducing artists and collectors through exhibitions at The Dime and T.F. Projects. If Western Avenue is the solar system, Fitzpatrick might be its sun. There is a gravitational pull that keeps everything in orbit around this particular star.&nbsp;Fitzpatrick wears his heart (tatooed) on his sleeve. There is no speak softly and carry a big stick. There is if you don’t like what he says, you can see yourself out. What pours from Fitzpatrick’s stream of unselfconsciousness are positions on a multitude of topics. When Fitzpatrick took to Facebook during 2020’s lockdown to encourage fellow citizens to be masked and socially distant, he chose the hashtag #staythefuckhome over the more pedestrian, #StayHomeStaySafe.Art, not surprisingly, occupies many of Fitzpatrick’s areas of opinion. For the dozen or so years I’ve known him, Fitzpatrick has frequently shared that he dislikes art fairs. The multi-day, scene-obsessed frenzy they can generate has represented, for him, the apex of all that can be obscenely money-driven, ego-centric and just plain ridiculous about the art world. However, during a recent shared ride to attend the funeral of a friend, Fitzpatrick had the chance to tell Tony Karman, founder of EXPO Chicago, one of the country’s most prominent contemporary art fairs, that he sees fairs in a different light now.&nbsp;Where he once ranted at the affront of an art marketplace that seemed to rule at the expense of true creativity and art appreciation, he says he now realizes that when many people gather for fairs there are celebrations of art as well as unparalleled opportunities for idea sharing and artist recognition; not everyone is a self-interested speculator. The professional convergence and standards set at the best art fairs have facilitated timely and productive discussions and projects that benefit a broader public. Fitzpatrick sees Karman, amidst a landscape more challenging than ever, as a man trying to harness the best forces of the market in order to bring people together – to Chicago – in a way that positively moves art and artists forward together. &nbsp;“I think Tony’s been a good steward of culture in this city. He’s the most brutal optimist you’ve ever met in your life. It’s infectious,” Fitzpatrick exhalts.&nbsp;This about face is just one sign that Fitzpatrick continues to be full of surprises. He considers, “I got a new lease on life from heart surgery, and I lead a really different life now. I swim every single morning. I don’t eat fried chicken a lot (just today).” His opinions, as well as his habits, are like the man himself: sometimes stubborn, but never immoveable. &nbsp;“In the last five years I realized the glass is half full. I wasn’t looking for the good, but I found it. I learned that even just walking around Humboldt park could do me a world of good. I’ve gotten into birding in a big way and also become kind of an activist on behalf of birds and the environment.”&nbsp;With more time to himself in 2020, except for socially distanced jigsaw puzzle deliveries via pizza peel to friends and clients, Fitzpatrick says he had the chance to care more about the local and global environment and how change relates to weather as well as his much loved local birds. “That’s one issue I think we really have to face as a culture and as artists – being better stewards of our planet. Everything’s changed. I think COVID kind of made us somebody else.”&nbsp;Fitzpatrick has also been a sort of activist on behalf of emerging artists who need mentoring support and exhibition exposure and has launched several gallery spaces in Chicago, from partnering on AdventureLand, to founding The Dime, and the newer T.F. Projects. In each case he has sought to adjust the traditional gallery model from an even split between dealer and artist to one that favors the artist. Fitzpatrick recently appointed a new full-time director, Rachael Raab-Wasaff, to manage the galleries and lead from a female vantage point, while also managing Fitzpatrick’s career, freeing him up to work on his art.&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418945/c2w5cleso7sqadzkrf15.png"><figcaption>Blackhawk, Illinois Indigo Bunting (Dreaming of Stars), 2021 &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>Of course, Fitzpatrick is really never just making art. He’s also designing puzzles, publishing books, collaborating on public art–he unveiled a large-scale mural for Steppenwolf Theater Company this summer–and preparing for what he says will be his final museum show this fall, at the Cleve Carney Museum of Art.“I feel really good about the exhibition,” says Fitzpatrick. “Right now we have at least 75 pieces in it, so far. We may have to cut, but we’re working with a lot at this point.”&nbsp;The Cleve Carney Museum of Art, formerly the Cleve Carney Art Gallery, part of the College of DuPage and the McAninch Art Center, underwent a renovation and expansion of its galleries as well as a name change in 2019, in anticipation of Frida Kahlo: Timeless, which, along with Fitzpatrick’s show, was delayed for a year due to the pandemic.&nbsp;When I ask about Fitzpatrick’s connection to the museum, he reveals, “I started caddying for Cleve Carney’s father, Marv Carney, in the 70s when I was about 12.” Looking across the table at Fitzpatrick, wearing his favorite White Sox hat and with gray in his beard, his fair skin mostly obscured by colorful tattoos, I am trying to picture him as a country club caddy, let alone a pre-teen. Fitzpatrick confirms he was never a golfer. “Why would I wear funny pants and chase a little ball around?” he asks me. He explains, however, that he was particularly good at reading greens, a skill he possessed because his drawing acumen helped him understand planes and trajectories. &nbsp;Fitzpatrick emphasizes that he learned a lot from that time. “You wouldn’t think it would be the job that most formed me, but it did. I learned how to win graciously, and how to lose gracefully.” Fitzpatrick also got to practice the art of listening (to more than a few dirty jokes), as well as getting, and holding, someone’s attention – skills that would all be put to use when he would later perform and tell stories in theaters and on film.&nbsp;He says, “I had a remarkably bad attitude, but Marv liked me because I read his putts, and they played for money.” Following some remarks on the course one day–Carney let Fitzpatrick know he needed a haircut as well as an attitude adjustment–when asked what he was going to do with himself in life, Fitzpatrick responded, “I wanna be an artist.” To which Carney exclaimed, “Fuck. You’re not going to make any money. My kid’s into that. He just got out of law school. Every damn dime he makes, he spends on art.” Carney offered to introduce Fitzpatrick and his son the next time he was out golfing.&nbsp;However stern Marv was, Fitzpatrick says, Cleve was a lot of fun. “If I were to liken him to something in nature, it would be a pond full of otters.” When he did get to know Cleve, eventually Fitzpatrick showed him some drawings, and Cleve, in his late 20s at that point, responded by telling the young artist about many others, such as the German expressionists, and the artists of the Weimar Republic. When Fitzpatrick shared that he wanted to learn how to make etchings, Cleve pointed him to study Hogarth, and Picasso. “He really came to me with the right things at the exact right time [in the 70s.] When I started making a name for myself in the 80s, Cleve was the first guy to come to my studio, and every time he came, he would buy something. He was just unbelievably kind and supportive of me.”&nbsp;Cleve Carney built a major art collection over the years and championed a wide range of nonprofits and causes throughout Chicago. His 2012 donation of $1 million in cash and art to the college helped establish the Cleve Carney Arts Gallery which became the Cleve Carney Museum of Art in 2019. Fitzpatrick knew he had to do this exhibition, the one he says will be his last museum show, because he credits the support of this one man with making him an artist.&nbsp;&nbsp;*<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418945/ge7qs2dgr4owtpzo19dk.jpg"><figcaption>Left: Western Avenue (Street of Crocodiles), 2021; Right: The Emerald Bird (Absinthe Bird for Lenora Carrington) drawing collage, 2018</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;I’ve heard Fitzpatrick talk about lasts before, so knowing he’s looking to keep going, following his heart attack, rather than call it quits, I press him if he really means it. Does he wonder what new, impossible to pass up offer could still come along?&nbsp;“The museum thing, for sure it’s the last,” he responds. “It’s time to get out of the way for people who don’t look like me. If I deal myself out of that equation, then some institutional wall space becomes available for somebody else. I think it’s important for us to create some equity, and it starts with every single artist.”&nbsp;He emphasizes the significance in artists recognizing that they are each other’s advocates as well as worthy of accepting each other’s support. “The one thing the community has to realize is the most valuable assets we have are each other. Most things one artist cannot do by themselves. You put four or five of them together, and you can move mountains.”&nbsp;*<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418946/g3o3dbz4udfj1ie0q3ol.webp"><figcaption>Art work for Fitzpatrick's mural, Night and Day in the Garden of All Other Ecstasies. &nbsp;</figcaption></figure>Fitzpatrick’s new Steppenwolf Theater mural, titled Night and Day in the Garden of All Other Ecstasies and completed this spring, may also be his last mural in Chicago. Created in honor of the theater’s former artistic director, and Fitzpatrick’s friend, Martha Lavey, it represents the evolution of the storied company. At 12 feet high by 76 feet long, the mural hits some firsts for Fitzpatrick–his first outdoor mural and his largest work to date. Artist Danny Torres is credited with the laborious process of digitizing Fitzpatrick’s images for the mural inch by inch, which took him six weeks before they could be transferred to tile by a company in Italy. The quality and durability of the images on tile means that the mural won’t be as vulnerable to degradation by sun or weather. Says Fitzpatrick, “I think it’s a future of public art. I love the romance of painting onto something, like Michelangelo, but how often is most of that covered up?”&nbsp;Coming off of the Steppenwolf mural, Fitzpatrick and Torres started their own company–Fitzpatrick, Torres, Humboldt, Caballo–and are now looking for opportunities around the country and the world. Though this is supposed to be the last one they do in Chicago, time will tell. Either way, their work will not end.&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;Whereas some people become more stubborn with age, swearing off new things, and people, Fitzpatrick thrives on fresh energy. His friendship and business partnership with Torres, who is about half Fitzpatrick’s age, was also borne from what followed Fitzpatrick’s heart attack. Torres’s aunt, a cardio rehabilitation nurse at St Mary’s Hospital where Fitzpatrick received care, called Fitzpatrick. He recalls, “She just says, ‘This is Rosa, who restored you to life. I want you to meet my nephew, who is a marvelous artist.’ The minute we started talking, it was like we knew each other. We were already kind of the same.”&nbsp;Fitzpatrick liked Torres and wanted to support him, so they talked about taking 18 months to get enough work ready to hang at AdventureLand, the gallery which used to be where T.F. Projects is now. Torres sold out his first show on the opening night. Not long after that was when Steppenwolf approached Fitzpatrick about the mural for their new building. He knew he could make the maquettes but he would need a top crew of artists to work with to execute it on a grand scale. Torres was his first choice. And once COVID altered the project’s entire timeline and prospects, just the two of them were mainly left to see it through.&nbsp;“No one could say they knew what [COVID-19] was yet,” Fitzpatrick recalls, “We were kind of lost for a while, until Mike Tobin, the head of Steppenwolf’s board, introduced us to the guys at Imola Ceramica.” Around for centuries, the company became known for fabricating decorative porcelain and ceramic tea sets before delving into cutting edge imaging about 30–35 years ago. That connection made the Steppenwolf mural’s production possible, and it also revealed new collaborations for Fitzpatrick and Torres, as well as any future players who come into their orbit.&nbsp;The mural commission was obviously a significant artistic and business win for Fitzpatrick and his team, but what he says he finds most valuable is the work as public art in Chicago that will last long after he is gone.&nbsp;“To do this in a public way, where people don’t have to pay a dime to see it? I love that.”&nbsp;Jesus of Western Avenue is on view at the <a href="https://www.chicagogallerynews.com/events/jesus-of-western-avenue">Cleve Carney Museum of Art</a>: October 16–Jan 31, 2022&nbsp;<figure class="image"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1721418947/cmv7rt60qdnevhvah2e5.png"><figcaption>Tony signing limited edition posters for Steve Earle's tribune album to his son Justin Townes Earle</figcaption></figure>&nbsp;&nbsp;</body></html>

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