wwwooorrrkkkiiinnnggg aaarrrttt

aaa rrreeesssooouuurrrccceee

BBByyy JJJaaaiiimmmeee CCCaaallldddeeerrr,,, JJJiii SSSoooooo HHHooonnnggg,,, &&& KKKeeennndddaaallllll HHHaaatttccchhheeeyyy

Copyright 2009 Jaime Calder, Ji Soo Hong, Kendall Hatchey.

Cover Design by Ji Soo Hong.

All Rights Reserved. Published December 2009.

Printed in the United States of America.

“An audience aware of the importance of its own opinion can be dangerous. An audience that seeks above all to have an opinion–and to parade it–is a menace...An audience’s merit is its capacity to feel rather than its disposition to hold court.”

Harold Clurman, “Tryout” (New Republic, Aug. 2, 1948)

Content s ***

Introduct ion

The Artists – Inte rv iews by Ji Soo Hong

2 Carrie Gundersdorf

8 Frank Piatek

16 Richard Hull

22 Deb Sokolow

The Intermediar ie s – In ter vi ews by Jaime Cal der

26 Sara Schnadt

30 Anna Knoebel

33 Jason Foumberg

38 Garrison Buxton

41 Joann Kim

45 Paul Klein

The Publi c – In ter vi ews by Kendal l Hat chey

51 Gilda Reardon

52 Brent Yontz

53 Luke Heilisted

54 Katrina Nyguard

55 Welder Vasques

56 Marina Arizona

57 Ellen Gish

58 Norma Bishka

59 Mike Ridden

60 Paula Louis

Resources & Addit ional In formation

Words often fail when it comes to art. Wound in passion, community, and economy, art has developed its own ambitious lexicon in which terms like “space”, “time”, and “juxtaposition” become alienating ‘ism’s instead of enhancing communication between works, their artists, and their viewers.

We engage in these conversations regularly, existing in a community of like-minded creators who have, at the very least, a relative understanding of this specialized language. But when a work makes its way out into the world, communication becomes more urgent. How does an artist get their intended message across? And is there a difference between what art is trying to say and what we hear?

We explored these questions from three angles: the artist, the intercessor, and the public. How does each of these groups approach, receive, and digest works of art? What agendas bring them to this community? And what common thread, if any, links and keeps them coming back to something described by one critic as “a luxury”?

What you are about to read is a resource. It is intended to offer insight to persons at all levels of the artistic community, no matter what their role might be. For artists, we hope to offer the candid voice of the public and the methodology of critics and curators as they work with and around art. For critics and curators, perhaps this work can provide a better understanding of a particular artist’s intent, as well as a look at how reviews and opinions are being received. Finally, we hope that members of the public can develop a better understanding of the intentions, techniques, and challenges of artists, critics, and curators in their day-to-day creative and critical processes.

Culled directly from the creative sources themselves and the audiences that support them, we offer to you a book of intention, appreciation, and understanding. We hope you find it beneficial and, if nothing else, please enjoy the pictures.

Jaime Calder Ji Soo Hong Kendall Hachey

1

2

CARRIE GUNDERSDORF Painter Director of Graduate Division – School of the Art Institute

Ji Soo Hong - I want to start off with your own artwork, how much information do you give, as in titles artist statements, and the work itself.

Carrie Gundersdorf - I reveal a lot in my titles, and I have thought about this a lot and I’m still thinking about it. I don’t think I’ve come to a conclusion. I’m still trying out different things, at certain points in the past, well, let’s back step a little bit. My work deals with astronomy and abstraction, but I think it refers to astronomy but it’s not about astronomy. It’s kind of a starting point, a reference. The photographs of light that I use is really much more formal than that. It has a lot to do with the conversation and the history of abstraction more so than astronomy. I think that’s misleading sometimes. That’s a topic of issue that a lot of people have with my work. The issue with the titles, or they think it’s only about astronomy or star trails.

So do people try to add on to your work?

Yea, sometimes. I think I want the conversation to be about both, one way I think about it, there are so many different places in art I think my art relates to. The biggest place I think is in modernism, that place where you’re referring to something but you begin to abstract it, so it makes a question as to whether it is abstraction or not. I think about background foreground a lot, both in terms of compositional device and in terms of there being tension between things in the work. I think one of the tensions that I want to create is between abstraction and representation, so there’s a back and forth and abstraction and representation and also between science and craft. That’s another thing I want my work to do, is to have it kind of be a reference to science but to be hugely handmade. So the brush mark is always there, geometry, and getting it wrong.

3

Like your not so straight lines, and the pencil lines peeking through and little oddities like that?

Yea, I think those tensions create a question, or I hope they create a tension and I feel like that’s kind of really what the work is hugely about. I mean, I think it’s about a lot of things but that’s really primary.

Is it fair to say that astronomy is the bridge between all these formal ideas to the audience?

I honestly don’t think they would get that, because I think so many of the images are abstractions, or it’s found abstraction. Which is a weird thing, I collect a lot of images and books. I think that’s why the titles are important too. When I started I guess I was really looking for abstraction in these representational photos and that all seems really backwards. I was looking for abstract places, and another artist I think about sometimes too, and this is a really strange reference, but almost all the photos are taken from light and someone who I think is really important to me is Monet. But more in process and I think that’s where the titles reside. I have a scientific approach to the work, it seems like it’s an actual right thing but the paintings seem very handmade and subjective. That’s what I’m interested in, having the factual and the subjective work against each other.

How about your earlier work, one of your earlier titles was “One day I want to live in the country.” I don’t see its reference to astronomy. Where does that come from?

That’s one of the few titles where I think it was more subjective. I now think that I haven’t been working my titles that way. There’s a body of paintings I did in 2003 for a show and out of all the titles that was the most subjective and overtly romantic, and I actually thing I want the titles to be more factual and nerdy seemy, and the subject matter is already so romantic and anything to push up against that seems like a good thing.

4

What made you decide to switch over, was it a particular critique of your work?

I think it was just trial and error; at that point, that was where I was with my work. You try different things, right now I’ve been more abstract and so more of the titles have been star trails and whatever color for instance, “Trails- light magenta version.” The titles seem to be more abstract and I try to add in a little fact to differentiate the work a little bit.

Going back to what you said about the overtly romantic titles, how do you feel about artwork that has super subjective titles. I read an article by Paddy Johnson in L magazine about Spencer Finch’s work in Chelsea. The artwork is titled “The brain is wider than the sky.” It’s a reference to Emily Dickenson, but I would have no clue of that because the piece was so non descriptive.

I guess it depends on the work. That piece feels like you’re supposed to come with some knowledge about it. My work’s different, it’s painting and less project based.

When you look at artwork have you ever been turned off by highly cryptic ideas?

I used to be more turned off. I now try to understand it, I guess I hope that there’s something that catches me either some sort of emotion or something quirky seeming about it. Something that makes me want to know more. I remember there was a show in New York that I loved in the end, but there were photographs on a table and immediately I liked these photographs but I didn’t get it. And I read the press release, and it’s this guy’s travels through Canada and he had just put all these different moments to show, I ended up feeling like that was a really awesome and generous show, and I think I understood more than I thought I did. Sometimes people do, they don’t necessarily trust themselves. With more experience I try to learn something about it and if it’s something that is in some area that is totally literary or totally something I’m not interested in, then I’m just not interested. And I don’t have to be interested in everything.

5

What if you hadn’t read the press release, would you have understood it as much, do you think you would’ve gotten to the same understanding with more contemplation?

I think I got it more than I thought I did, I think that’s actually the case with a lot of people, even with non-art people. I remember taking my parents to the MFA show and there was somebody who did a piece with underwear and stains with underwear. My parents said “Ew gross, that’s not art” but I mean they’re getting something from that, I think that’s what the person who was making it wanted. They wanted the sensation of something gross and something quiet and subtle, and that’s what they were aiming for. Sometimes people think they don’t get stuff right away but I think if they spend a moment they can get it. It can be frustrating sometimes having to study art to get it, but sometimes it can be really rewarding too.

So do you write artist statements and how much do you consider your audience when you write.

I actually just wrote a press release, a friend of mine and I just did a show in Boston and it was nonprofit, so I actually did end up writing the first draft for our press release and they kind of proofed it a little bit….which is funny because it’s at the Proof gallery.

I think I always just think of a fellow artist when I write things. I don’t try to dumb it down, I think with artworks too. I guess the people I want to like the work the most are the artists I respect and like. So I guess I try to write artist statements for them. I make the work for them.

How personal do you get with your statements, as in do you give out personal experiences that drew you to a specific image?

I tend to be a little bit broader and some people have a real problem with that. Sometimes I think it’s because I just hesitate to name everything and some of them are unnamable. I just hate to get so didactic about every little thing, and I have some friends who I talk

6

with. It’s good because sometimes they say “Carrie you need to put more information in.” One of my friends who I work with she’s just, every detail about every work, and I sometimes say “it’s already there, don’t worry it’s already there.” So it’s kind of good to have that kind of relationship to push you, because sometimes I think I’m maybe too vague.

I guess in the artist statement I try to create some context for looking at the work, like the basic dialog it exists in, or some of the main things I want the viewer to get out of it. I just wouldn’t want to spell out everything. It’s always something you can do better, and I feel like every year I get a little bit better.

I want to get back to what you were saying about your artists being your audience. Why do you think the art world is so confined to artists making art for artists?

I think that sometimes when we make work for the general population we underestimate them, and I’m really interested in the conversation of painting and where painting’s been. I guess I wanted to be in conversation with artists that I respect and admire today. It’s not trying to shut anyone out; it’s trying to work to the highest level that I can work at. I actually think that people whether it’s down the road or right now, people get that. I mean if Monet had to dumb it down and I guess make portraiture in the court system, although I think they were past that at that point, he wouldn’t have made what he made, and maybe some people got it and some didn’t, same with so many artists. I think painting is actually very accessible to people, even if it’s abstract, color, form all those things are accessible. Sometimes when people try to make their work accessible to a wider audience they add so many narrative layers on it. And maybe I’m thinking of specific people, but all those layers get really confusing, it’s actually less accessible. If it’s really pared down to what it’s suppose to be, I mean the most successful art no matter what medium takes whatever the strength is or whatever that narrative is and just pushes at it. Sometimes people add so much extra information it actually makes it harder to understand.

7

8

FRANK PIATEK Artist Professor – School of the Art Institute

Ji Soo Hong - How much information do you provide for the audience? When looking up information about you, the term Allusive Abstraction came up a few times, especially in the New City article, can you talk about that a little bit and how that term came to be?

Frank Piatek - That was Mary Gedo, that was her idea, it was also a very nice dialog between Richard Loving, William Conger, and myself. The term was a good one even though it was a little bit brittle. We let it stand because we did have in common the idea of abstraction. The basic idea here was that there was an impure abstraction instead of the purified abstraction. It was an abstraction that alluded to all kinds of other experiences that may or may not be made available. Bill Conger always had the information in his titles, and he was very involved in literature and stuff like that, so he’s making references to lots of specific things and he wants us to know about various states of mind. My titles were much more generalizations like parallel structures, but the larger body of work, it’s much more complex. It’s uncomfortable. It’s not easily pigeon holed.

But there’s this other thing, the show that New City was talking about, that was something else, and that goes back to 1975. I did this interesting combination show. I was in Phyllis Kind gallery. I was with her from my second year of graduate school till 1973 and we parted our ways over this show I had at the N.A.M.E. gallery. It was all kinds of directly symbolic work dealing with symbol systems and it was becoming very apparent. It was different from the abstract work and she wasn’t pleased with the new development. In the gallery I had those form paintings, and then this other stuff. At the show at Phyllis Kind, I was having really good success, the museum acquired paintings of mine, had group shows, and that’s what connected me to the museum circle. And that was something that was really helpful for me and that’s what got me noticed by the critics at the time.

9

So those were all those form paintings, when I got out of undergraduate school, I spent a year in travel and I was discovering all this stuff. When I came back to graduate school, I was sort of processing it, but it was bubbling up and my other stuff wasn’t coming through.

When I got out of graduate school, I had the show at Phyllis Kind. One of the results was a commission for a big painting for a bank. So the bank president came over and he wanted to see what I was doing. So I worked up all these drawings of the form paintings. There was something about the scale, his idea was to have artist from the Phyllis Kind gallery in the bank collection. He had some misgivings that these forms were going to be a little bit scary, so in the meeting he said “Couldn’t you do something a little more recognizable, like a tree?”

My first thought was that all this stuff was bubbling up, I was doing it in the drawings and I said yes right away. I did lots of nature stuff, but that was all burned away in my undergraduate, but I did do a lot of trees. I took the idea of a symbolic tree. I was living in Hyde Park and I was using a tree that was like an image from a Mesopotamian cylinder seal, this was the kind of history that I was working with. I did the painting, it had a moon, a crescent moon in it, it was a tree but it wasn’t a tree, it was a symbolic structure. The painting was pulling the cork out of the bottle. I did this huge other body of work that’s what went to the show at the N.A.M.E. gallery. That was the work that Phyllis Kind and I split up, because she wasn’t interested in that stuff at all.

So I have two bodies of work, I had the form abstractions, and then I had this other body that’s referencing all these deep histories and direct reference to symbols that came from this tree and off sets from the tree and mixing stuff from dreams, all kinds of stuff that I would dream and make totems of, because at that time I was really into Jung.

When I was in school, there was no interest in reaction against the reductive forms at the time. I really felt a need to connect to bigger stuff that was allowed in the art world at the time. I needed to connect outside. I was looking at New York artists for some reason, because in Chicago, in the museums, ‘well here’s the imagists, and here’s some

10

more.’ That’s how Conger, Loving, and I connected, we were dealing with abstractions and we have reference points to the imagists, but at the same time, I had all these deep histories and deep symbol structures, which were really different. My interests weren’t like anybody else.

From there after I have this parallel body of work, there’s the work that the galleries really like and the other that’s independent of the gallery. So non commercial galleries are very important to me, there are the commercial connection I have with a regular gallery which is important, but there are these other things, it gives me room to create this other body of work. This is confusing to other people who know a different identity of me, so it’s going to take a while. So, how do these different bodies of work shake out, now that goes back to your question, I can show these things right next to each other but how do we talk about these very different kinds of experiences. It’s going to take a while.

Do you have some sort of connection with these two bodies of work? How do you bridge it?

I was thinking of Monet in terms of color of light, and I might use the same formal structure but I might use entirely different kinds of elimination, paint process, color structure. They are three versions of the same painting, but like Monet they’re all different. Or the drawings will refer to the same iconography. Other forms are directly to knot structures, to Celtic, Mesopotamian, or Aztec, I like that. I like that I’m resonating with these ritual structures. Or they might be connecting to this animal style. The Celtic knotting may go back to the animal style, Eurasia, China, to Ireland. Those are ideas I play with and those kinds of things are being played out in the paintings. It’s not an unbridgeable goal whatsoever but the appearance seems broad. But when you get down to talking about the stuff, then all of a sudden they begin to mix together so the abstraction is nowhere near as abstract although sometimes it can be, it’s all about just painting and other times it’s dealing with references.

11

So when people look at your work, whichever body of work they see, do you get disappointed when they don’t understand these deep histories?

They might prefer their own meaning, only if they’re interested in my intention, but my intention shouldn’t displace their response. They don’t need intention.

Well you give a hint of it in your titles.

Yes. Sometimes the kinds of things, interests get in the way, there’s something really nice about abstraction when you can pull away from all that stuff, you can just bathe in the abstraction itself, it’s about no thing. That’s one of the advantages of the abstraction side, you can let it be open-ended. I get nervous when someone else puts their read on it, well that’s good for you but that’s not what I had in mind, and the abstraction is meant to leave it open.

When you title something, you obviously keep that in mind, you try to keep the ambiguity in state, is there a scale where you determine the level of information the piece needs?

I think it has to do with what comes in my head, because titles are ideas. Some are appropriate, some you cross out. I’ve had some that have actually embarrassed myself. I say, “I’ll just let that one fade into the depth” that’s all a very delicate thing.

What kind of information do you give? What kind do you withhold?

Some of that has to do with letting sufficient room for the viewer, but again I’m aware that not everyone is interested in my interests. And that’s ok.

Do you ever write artist statements?

12

Oh yes, I do, I do a lot. I’ve actually had things published in the past. I’ve done quite a bit of writing and it gets through a threshold because I write and rewrite. Richard Loving and I started an art newspaper called Chicago Art Write. It wasn’t commercial; we would have four editions a year. We’d get people to write on topics and so I had a number of essays.

Besides the publication have you had to use your writings at all, as in give it out to people who wanted more about your work or needed more explanation.

I had a run in with the IRS a couple of years ago, it took me a year to get through with it, but I had a really good professional person who helped out. I was trying to do stuff on my own, never do that, it was a stupid idea, but this person was good. He gave me tasks, one was I had to put a total catalog of work, I had to convince him I was a professional artist. They didn’t believe the resume so I had to demonstrate and that was good, because it was really helpful, I had to go through my deep archives of writing. Those writings are not at that threshold where it goes outside.

That’s one of the difficult things in teaching, is that, teaching takes a great deal of energy. You have to come through and you have to shift gears and lecture. For this spiritual class I’m teaching, there’s tons of research and lots of writing but mostly it gets taught, and I haven’t had time to synthesize it into what I know.

Have you ever been asked specifically for an artist statement?

I write lots of artist statements, this thing for the IRS goes back to 1966 all the way through. That was what this thing made me aware of, it pulled it together into context. Yes, it’s of concern to me, why doesn’t it reach the threshold of getting further. That happens with time and energy with the variety of other things I get engaged in, I don’t even have the time to do enough of the work that I do, much less all this other stuff.

13

How much do you think about your audience when writing or making your artwork?

On the one hand when I write, I’m not just thinking about me, I’m writing in a context, in the art world context. I’m not writing in a void, probably early on I was very much that way, I had to develop an objective voice. Because I’m very much about history, to some extent I’m also addressing history, I’m addressing the idea of the idea of the artists work. I’m talking to the larger structure that may not be the individual but I’m talking to that history. I have tons of thoughts to myself, I have to burn through it to fuse it away, the other stuff is all fragmentary. It’s got to be an art world document.

Mary Gedo was very interesting, her husband was a psychoanalyst, and she did several psychoanalyst observations of artists, like she has one of Picasso. She had a thing between psychology and psychological approach in art, and her idea of allusiveness fit in.

But I didn’t want her to get too close, it’s what’s the identity and it’s not what’s the person.

Going back to your teaching, how do you make judgments about an artwork, do you find more success in long explanations, or art that can speak by itself.

For the graduate acceptance thing, it’s faster; we may look at four hundred people for twenty-five slots. It’s largely on our impressions. That’s one of the things you learn how to do, you learn how to make evaluations, because we’re all forced to do that. We may agree or disagree with individual cases, there are some things that fall through the cracks, and my colleagues we’re all pretty good at this, but there are some cases where we absolutely disagree.

In a way, everyone who goes to gallery openings or museums have their own judgment, in your opinion, is an art piece more successful when it’s understandable with first impressions?

Well in the process that I described, I don’t know how good that is in a conceptually oriented piece. You got to do work outside; the 14

conceptual orientation may not be visible. Here’s the problem, given the time that’s allotted in this process, making the statements and being able to in some way, be able to write a representation of what you do, that’s got to be just right. You can read the statement but it’s like an awful lot of statements just don’t make sense sometimes.

Yea like some of the write-ups in the museums?

No sense, some of the stuff on the walls are awful, their hideous absolutely hideous, because it’s a person in the education department writing stuff for the “masses.” Art writing tends to be like theology in a sense so involved in jargon and arcane thought system, it may be real important, but it’s going to take some time to work through it and that’s not something to plow through in a quick time.

And again the context on how are things being judged. However, there are lots of situations that are like that, if you look at grant panels that’s precisely what they’re doing.

How about you personally, when you go to museums or galleries?

I’m not judging when I go see an artwork; I experience it, because I don’t have to. Something draws me into it, and I maybe read more about it. I will because I’m excited by it, and you miss a lot of stuff, you have a lot of prejudices. There are stuff we don’t like and stuff we do, like taste. The first thing is what does the work do for me? Now, the conceptually oriented piece, you really have to go around it a few times and there’s other people that that is their taste. So for that, I will look at it, they’re saying look at this or spend some time looking at this, that’s where time and writing comes into effect. The art world is very complex especially if you watch it over time.

15

16

RICHARD HULL Painter Teacher – School of the Art Institute

Ji Soo Hong - Looking at your work I was wondering about your titles, how do you come up with them?

Richard Hull - I almost think of my titles afterwards or they occur to me during the drawing or painting. Occasionally I’ve thought of titles before the painting, but I feel that it’s kind of restricting for me of what I can do, or I don’t feel like being stuck in the painting. I think about shapes and color and some idea or some specific notions that I have but I always like to expand beyond any kind of preconceived title.

It seems like your titles and even your press release I read about your work didn’t describe much, it was pretty ambiguous.

Kind of but my titles almost all of them come from another source, like poetry, I either take lines or titles, they just resonate with me, sometimes they describe pretty accurately what the painting looks like at least in my mind.

Like the “Horse’s Ass” painting?

Yea well that was pretty clear because that was a horse’s ass. But there was a long process with why I painted a horse’s ass. Most paintings morphed into something else, it was about emptying and filling up, empty spaces and full spaces and the titles reflect that somehow in those paintings.

When you reference poetry do you expect the audience to understand or recognize it?

17

It’s more personal. I think titles are really important and I spend a long time thinking about them, I want them maybe to spark some curiosity to other things that might be happening in a painting. They’re descriptive, sometimes they’re of what’s happening, and sometimes they’re more like a notion about what the paintings are about. There’s one painting called “Elegy for the City” and that’s the title because I saw the painting as sort of an overview of the microcosm of the city, it’s moving through, spiraling.

Did you think of that during the process?

I think of that every time I do these paintings, I always think of a place and like activity. My earlier work was very architectural.

Have you ever had a show where people interpreted your paintings in a different light based on your titles?

Sometimes it’s interesting how people get confused and I don’t mind that so much, in fact, a lot of times I make paintings, I title the paintings with words that mean two things. I’m thinking of calling one “Partial vision” right now, and that could mean you’re partial to the vision or you only see partially.

How about artist statements or your own writings.

I don’t really write, the time that I went to school we didn’t really have to explain ourselves; it was kind of a style. I’m kind of sorry I didn’t do it when I was younger or learn how to describe things because I think it can be useful. I think most artist statements are kind of silly. They state the obvious or they’re so obscure that they don’t describe anything. So, I haven’t written an artist statement in years.

Don’t galleries, directors, or curators ask for statements?

18

Not necessarily, they might but there’s no demand for it. I think there are certain kinds of work that do require a statement. I think it can be very helpful to understand it, but with my work, I don’t think it’s necessary to have a statement. Though I think I talk more about the paintings than I used to. Right now I’m thinking about spaces that empty, that fill up spaces, one of the paintings is called “Empty Filling”

The other day I went and talked to a class in Columbia, and there was this large journalism class, the students were not willing to cave with one-word descriptions of the painting, and it was really interesting for me. They hit on a lot of the things that I was thinking about, and it made me think, well I don’t really have to say anything. I was happy that what I was trying to do was coming through.

So, do you think about your audience when you paint?

I think you always think about an audience, you’re not painting in a vacuum. You always feel the presence of someone seeing it, so in a way, you are working towards an audience. I don’t know who it exactly is all the time, but I noticed, the longer I do this, it’s clear to me that there are different types of audiences, and in some ways you don’t want to disappoint. For me there are certain types who collect my work before, and they have a certain expectation from my work, and there are some people who don’t know my work so it kind of enters into my head when I’m making things. I try not to let it effect me too much but it does happen.

Would you say that negatively?

No, it’s not negative, its just fact. I can gear the work towards a certain kind of, maybe newer way of painting. Painting has changed a lot in the last 15 years. It’s changed a great deal, in a funny way it’s a little less rigorous. There’s an article that Raphael Rubinstein wrote in Art in America called “Provisional Painting.” I call it casual abstraction, where really the edge of the canvas doesn’t matter so much, I had a hard time putting my finger on exactly what it means, but it’s like I can do anything, I can put this mark here and it doesn’t really matter, I can make it this big and I can make it this small, just as long as I’m expressing myself in some way. I don’t think it’s very interesting

19

because things aren’t being pushed up as much as it used to, there’s no resistance because the field is so wide open now. I’m not complaining about it, because I kind of accept it now.

Do you have examples of casual abstraction artists?

Someone like Rebecca Morris, she mixes all this stuff together and I think she does it well, but she can do whatever she wants. These are tough questions for me because I think about it all the time and you try to find your relationship to all of what’s going on. I want to be part of the dialog.

I want to go back to what you were saying about the different kinds of audiences, what are they for you?

There are older collectors, there are a whole set of collectors who collect based on word of mouth rather than what you see, there are students, that’s actually within the last five years who have become an audience for me, which is totally different and new to me, and there are also critics.

Is there one that is more difficult for you to please?

One thing’s for sure and I know this, if you try to make paintings for a certain audience, you will be wrong. If you try to make paintings that are going to be successful, critically, gallery wise, and museum, you will be wrong and you’ll be late. That’s the main thing, for me, what I’ve decided to do is paint paintings that I really want to see so I become the number one audience.

Work that you want to see in the art world? Or just personally?

I guess in the art world, and personally mostly. I’ve decided that I really have to trust myself, what you commit to is the right thing. One thing that does happen for sure is you can’t help but respond to

20

compliments. If you notice that people are responding to a certain type of thing you’re making, then you know you’re communicating so it encourages you to keep working that way. The main thing is as the artist, you are the one who has control of it eventually, but you absolutely have to have someone see it. When someone does respond and they get it, it’s really great, and you also have to understand that some people aren’t, they might understand it but they just might not want it.

21

22

DEB SOKOLOW Artist

Ji Soo Hong - I’d love to start with how you came to make what you make. Coming out of SAIC, and I don’t know how it was back then, but it seems like narrative artwork like yours would be labeled as illustrative, or seen as a comic book instead of a drawing. Did you struggle with being accepted as a ‘fine artist?’

Deb Sokolow - When I first arrived at SAIC, I was making formal work and experienced, strangely enough, more “disdain” from graduate advisors and other professors for working in this vein than for the narrative direction I would move in towards the latter part of grad school. There were really only two encounters I had, one with an art historian and one with a painting professor (both operated in the formal realm) who expressed condescension towards what I was doing.

Your work seems to do something that’s unique in the art world, which is that it is understandable to basically everyone, including the general public who are sometimes shut out. Was that a conscious choice? Did you aim to make your work accessible to a mass audience?

Absolutely, it was a conscious choice, and I think I was influenced in part by those same anti-formalist graduate advisors who were writing about and/or making work that engaged in various public/social art practices. The idea that art should not just be about art but should somehow connect to a broader audience rubbed off on me in a big way. Recently though, I’ve backtracked on this and have come back to focusing on formal concerns in my own work as well as having a renewed appreciation for paintings and sculpture that have nothing to do with the public sphere. I think this shift back towards the formal comes from taking up an art teaching practice and falling in love again with materials and process.

How do you feel about other artists who are less engaged with the general public, for instance the ‘painter’s painter,’ or just artwork where you need to know certain information (like art history) before being able to understand it?

23

Needing to know enough art history to understand certain works of art is something that I used to view as art elitism, but I’ve moved past that viewpoint into something more positive. These days, I just think of this type of art as being like a crossword puzzle; you need to obtain a certain level of knowledge and experience doing crosswords (or looking at art) in order to solve the puzzle. Crosswords are excellent exercises for the aging mind, as art could be too, if only it was accepted in the same way.

In the Bad at Sports interview, you mentioned a professor that told you that your work is like homework, is that a criticism that still lingers?

This criticism is what drives me to try and make every piece interesting to an audience. If someone spends less than 1 minute looking at a gargantuan drawing I’ve made, I know that I’ve failed and the professor has won. There have been times when I’ve put a piece out there in the world and have lost this contest.

Do you write about your work? And how important is the artist statement in your practice? And how much information do you give about your personal choices in these narratives, as in personal experiences of why you decided to write about Scarface for instance.

I try not to write about my work since the work itself involves so much writing. The artist statement is something I prefer not to do but find that I must have one handy whenever it’s time to submit for a grant. Most artists really hate writing an artist statement, and I am no exception. As for personal choices in the narratives- occasionally I mention my reasons for choosing a topic, when/if appropriate.

In the other artist interviews that I’ve done, we talked a lot about ambiguity, how do you find the balance between revealing too much and revealing too little in your narratives?

I think that I do reveal too much in the narratives of certain works. Luckily, I’m beginning work on a new project, which, due to the 24

constraints of the site in which it will be installed, won’t allow for much in the way of small-scale text or detail. I’m terrified at the prospect of having to rely more on images for the narrative, but I think it might be the perfect challenge for me to try and take on at this point in time.

25

26

SARA SCHNADT Performance Artist Curator – Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs & others Project Manager/Webmaster – Chicago Artist Resource

Jaime Calder – Sara, can you please explain a little about what you do and who you are in the context of the artistic community?

Sara Schnadt – Well, I’m a number of things, but primarily I am a curator and a performance artist. I am a member of a camp that generally believes that art should speak to its audience directly. Some of the works of art that I like the most speaks to many different audiences and has many different points of entry, depending on your background or your level of knowledge. I like Louise Bourgeois’ work – I don’t think you need to really read about her to appreciate her. Olafur Eliasson – I love his work as well.

I also appreciate artists who ask questions in their work and ask their audience to do research – I think that sometimes this can be really exciting. I do think that, if you are going to ask your audience to read an explanation, it should be really necessary to that particular work and shouldn’t be just a matter of course.

I’ve learned a little more about this whole principle since I did the Museum of Contemporary Art’s 12x12 a couple of years ago. Before doing that – which was a huge opportunity for me, at the time – I had only exhibited my work either for accidental audiences, as in public spaces (where usually the interaction is very minimal in terms of verbal interactions. Instead you watch peoples’ body language and things like that), or in art spaces, which is very much a ‘preaching to the choir’ sort of experience. So it was very interesting to perform and do work for an audience that was much, much broader in a museum context, and I was very surprised to see that as I was inside of my piece and watching the audience come into the space (because I did a very task-based, durational performance at the museum) I was kind of like a fly on the wall. People would just come in and watch me, but also ignore me as well and just look at the art.

I noticed that most people would register the work, and then go directly to the label, especially people that weren’t artists, and they really appreciated the additional information from the museum to help them

27

access that piece. They wanted to be proactive about appreciating the work, and that was something of a new perspective for me on that issue. I think there is definitely a place for information, especially when you’re talking about art as a specialty and trying to communicate with people from other different specialties. Which is fair enough, and I think it’s an important thing to be thoughtful about.

You bring up an important point, which is that public art doesn’t always have the spoon-fed information that you might find in a museum or gallery setting. Do you think there is within the audience a pleasure in the unexpected? Because you think about how one might go to someplace like the MCA, knowing that they will see this pre- approved work of art that will be supplemented with something like an informational placard, and I wondered if one form might stick with an audience more than another.

Absolutely, and I think people that are interested in working in public space – sculptors, performance artists, writers, theatrical artists – are very aware of the difference in that setting and are very aware of this setting as they are putting their work into context. If you do something – and this is especially true for live work – that is any sort of degree different from an ordinary pedestrian gesture, then it’s going to read immediately, where as if you did this same thing in a gallery or on a stage, peoples’ threshold for the extraordinary is much higher. So you wind up with a very charged space, and you have to think about how you want it to resonate.

When I first came to Chicago in the mid-nineties, I had the opportunity to participate in a couple of large public performances where we were given very specific instructions about how to respond to peoples’ questions, because they do come up and ask you about what is happening – they’ve encountered something unusual and they’re curious. I’ve found most people are not judgmental, unless you are pre- judging them.

I think, also, that making work more accessible is very important, even more so when you’re in a public context. I think the Jaume Plensa sculpture in Millenium Park is a very successful piece because it’s extremely accessible yet it’s aesthetically a very unusual statement – it’s not a dull or simplistic work. But there are other types of work that you wouldn’t dream of putting in a public space – it would take a lot more

28

framing to really appreciate what was going on there.

Have you ever taken a work originally created for a public space and transitioned that into a formal setting?

I was concerned about the when I was working in a museum for the first time because I prefer to work in site-specific contexts. But I realized that any site could translate into a “site-specific” context, and I found that the audience within this new context was very engaged.

When you have, visually and spatially, all the aspects and information of an actual living space, I think you have a much more dynamic environment in which to make work. It’s always going to be more sterile, in terms of my own personal preferences, to operate within a ‘white cube’. Having a real space to respond to is almost like having a conversation, and can actually stimulate new ideas.

What makes something a successful work, or a successful curated work, in your eyes?

That’s a big question. A successful gallery, either for profit or non- profit, has a specific vision, is very well observed, and includes a range of artists that share different perspectives on that particular vision in a way that is sensitive, non-sensationalist, and that cultivates an audience. There is a level of accessibility in terms of terms of their processes, and they are able to sustain, so that there is not just this amazing, inspiring thing that just folds over after two years.

In terms of artwork, I think about looking through ArtNow, the annual Taschen publication that’s about three inches thick, and I think about what it is that warrants an artist appearing in ArtNow over multiple issues over time, because so much of what you see in there is not going to be in the next one. So much of what’s featured is fleeting or trendy, and I think that there is an aspect of endurance that is important for really successful work. Work should speak to something beyond a fad and have some sort of internal, aesthetic logic. There are so many components to this that I don’t want to say anything more on the matter because I wouldn’t want to limit my ideas of what could be successful. That’s the best of what I can tell you.

29

30

ANNA KNOBEL Abe’s Penny zinegrecsNY

Jaime Calder - Who are you, & how are you a member of the artistic community?

Anna Knoebel - My name is Anna Knoebel. I publish and edit Abe’s Penny, an art and literature magazine I founded with my sister, Tess. Each issue is a series of four postcards featuring a narrative—a combination of photographs and text—that unfolds in sequence, one part per week. Collectible and temporal, the cards vary each month, with a different artist and writer collaborating on each issue. We started publishing in March 2009 and we’re currently mailing our ninth issue.

I also edit zingrecsNY, an events listing published by zingmagazine.

How informed do you believe an audience must be to appreciate a work of art?

An awareness of history and influences adds value to each piece. Education enhances our enjoyment of any art—if you understand shot angles in cinema, you recognize and appreciate them in Citizen Kane; if you understand complexities in music, you appreciate them when you hear them, etc. I know plenty of people outside the “art world” and I’ve often found myself trying to explain why art is considered art, often in response to an “I could do that!” reaction. When I was little and my parents, who love minimalism, dragged me to galleries, I was guilty of that reaction, too. Donald Judd’s boxes make a totally different impression than Botticelli’s paintings and, in general, I think people find traditional painting more accessible. On the other hand, if you approach art with an open mind and let it affect you, you will experience it honestly. At that point, you can make an informed decision about whether you like it or not. In this way, appreciating art becomes like appreciating wine—if you like it, that’s enough to make it good.

Are those formally schooled in art more capable of appreciation?

Again, yes and no. With formal schooling, a person understands more about a work of art, but education sometimes works against you. If

31

your education helps you recognize failings in technique, you will judge work more harshly, but if you recognize perfection of technique, you might love the work more than someone who doesn’t. If you know the artist, or about the artist, and you judge him negatively, you will probably judge his work negatively, too, and vice versa. How many times has an artist’s career been launched by a smitten art critic or collector? Many, many times. Then again, I meet art critics who don’t seem to enjoy anything they see. They’ve seen it all before.

What do you personally look for when considering a work? What makes a piece a success in your eyes?

I try to see artwork with an open mind. I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what makes each piece moving, but when it works, it’s visceral. I’ve been moved to tears more than a few times—once, maybe the first time, in front of a Van Gogh at the MFA in Boston. I also remember the disappointment I felt standing in front of the Mona Lisa. When the work strikes me as ugly, or if my first reaction is to dismiss it, I ask myself why.

A successful piece produces a positive or negative emotional response. It requires effort from the artist and the audience. First, the artist creates the piece and exposes it. Then, the audience sees the piece and takes time to consider it. A dialogue begins. When Tess and I started batting around ideas for what eventually became Abe’s Penny, we were particularly interested in this dialogue. How do you capture a person’s attention long enough to ensure he really considers what he’s seeing? Because if you drag yourself to a museum to spend time looking at art and while you look, you think about lunch and your tired legs, but you never think about what you’re seeing, you’re not going to enjoy it, no matter what the caliber of the work (and caliber is already someone else’s determination). I tend to enjoy art more when I’m alone because I’m less distracted.

32

33

JASON FOUMBERG Editor of Newcity Art Contributing writer to Frieze Curator of Various Projects

Jaime Calder - It’s Wednesday, November eighteenth, and I am at Clarke’s on Belmont and, oh man, Republica is on the radio. I am here with Jason Foumberg – Foumberg? I said that right, correct?

Jason Foumberg – Yes, that’s right.

Okay. Okay. Jason, please explain who you are, and how you are a participant in the art community.

I am an art critic, and that means I review exhibitions that are currently on view. I write mostly for magazines and newspapers, so my writing is short-form, and I’ve been doing this for about three or four years in Chicago. At times it feels a bit removed, because you’re the critic so you just sort of sweep in and review the show and you don’t even have to talk to anybody, you just look at the art. Other times, I’m surprised by how engaged I am in the community, surprised that people look to me or are interested in knowing my opinion. In turn I really like to know what they’re doing, too.

You were formally educated within this community, right?

That’s right, I got my masters degree at the Art Institute, and I got my undergraduate degree in art history in California. I have also studied art formally in college.

Do you feel that a person without your same formal education can be just as astute and receptive to a work as you are?

It’s a big question, and I don’t always like to generalize on these points, but I think studying art turns you onto art. The more you learn about it, the more you like it. I find that especially true with people who are not generally all the ‘art focused’ – if they go look at a piece of art and perhaps, at first, they’ll be saying, “Oh, I don’t like it, I don’t get it.” But once they read the artist’s statement or the artist talks with them, and they learn the specifics of the work, it becomes more enjoyable for

34

them. So I suppose that could count as a form of education.

So is appreciating art a matter of information, then, even if it’s as simple as self-educating through the material provided by the artist or research? Or can a person with no additional information or education at all still receive a work in a manner that was intended by the artist?

I think that people in general are visually aware. We are really good at reading visual advertisements – you see an ad on the train and it goes by so quickly but you just understand it from piecing together these visual clues – and I feel that art is much the same way. Not to say that design is not art or that ads are not art because they are, in their own way, but perhaps there are some hang-ups that art is somehow not as accessible. There is an assumption that it does take a lot of education and training, or that it’s pretentious, that ‘the layman’ cannot understand it. I wish people would just let go of these presumptions.

Art is not a necessity in life – it’s almost a luxury. And the more you learn about it, the more you find yourself liking it. Anybody can learn French if they put enough time into it, or farming if they expend the effort. And just like you’re not going to just pick up a rake and a hoe and be a great farmer, you can’t just pick up a paintbrush and be an instantly great artist. But with art, we are looking for greatness, and so, to some, it’s just not even worth it.

Is there anything out there that you think people should be paying more attention to than other works?

Well, it’s a question of relevancy. Say someone makes a painting of Obama. It certainly might be timely, but it might not be relevant or good or interested just because it’s timely. But you look back over art history and you ask, “What were the major sweeping ‘ism’s?” You can take this back to the 16th century, where paintings were a major part of their lives, or even the Neolithic where the documentation of their times on rock walls was a part of their lives. What, then, is the major part of our lives now?

Facebook.

I usually try to keep myself in the place of what I’m seeing in that moment. A painting can be relevant, but we make many generalizations

35

when we’re looking back over a span of time. So maybe design is our current ‘ism’, if for nothing else than how relatable it is.

It’s definitely the most commercially viable art form operating right now.

Right, and there’s a paradox in there as well. I think that fine art should be engaging beyond its commerciality. It should be more than a punch line or some passing bit of irony. It should endure. Which is cliché, but cliché’s are true for a reason.

Given your beliefs in lingering works, what do you look for when you seek a successful work of art?

Well, when you first contacted me asking to do this interview, you used the word “appreciate”. And I looked that word up, and it was defined as a “critical and emotional understanding”, which, in my mind, is two different things because “critical” is supposed to reference this disinterested life of the mind, and emotional is so very subjective. The more I thought about this, though, the more this made sense.

I liked to do what I call “The Ten Minute Test”, by which I mean, can you look at this work of art for ten minutes and stay focused. It is a challenge, but it’s also interesting to see what you can get out of it.

I wonder, though, and this is a question for you (and whomever else), that if people don’t understand art, then does that mean that art doesn’t matter?

Oh geeze. No. I think that there is an institutionalized understanding that ‘Art Is Valuable’, in the same way that literature is valuable or music is valuable – these basic cultural tenants that keep us going back to these pillars of creativity even if we (and I say “we”, here, in the most general way) don’t completely understand or know how to approach them. The understanding comes so much farther down the line than the seed of interest does, and so long as that seed continues to be planted and grow, people will continue to create and observe and consume and hopefully, eventually, connect with art.

I am more concerned about people knowing the difference between what they appreciate and what they are told to appreciate, and knowing 36

why there is a difference and what that difference is.

That’s a large amount of trust. The public – here’s what the public generally likes about art: they like celebrities; they like scandal, like when an artwork is stolen; they like when works sell for ridiculous amounts of money. That’s what the public finds interesting.

I think there’s a difference between ‘interesting’ and ‘headlining’. The journalistic mantra of “if it bleeds it leads” has never really left the industry, and when art makes headline news outside of its little designated section, that’s a sensation. I think people are smart enough to know the difference between pop news and the more subdued reviews, critiques, and cultural news.

I think you have a lot of faith.

Oh.

It’s ok.

37

38

GARRISON BUXTON Ad Hoc Art Peripheral Media Projects

Jaime Calder - Who are you, and how are you a member of the artistic community?

Garrison Buxton - I am Garrison Buxton. I am the owner and co- founder of Ad Hoc Art and Peripheral Media Projects, two institutions responsible for significantly cultivating the arts and creative community in Bushwick, Brooklyn. We dubbed it Morgantown back in '06, amidst the racing garbage trucks and concrete factories. I am a member of the artistic community in many ways. As a gallery owner, art director, and curator, I contribute to the cultivation and evolution of art as it oozes from its most fascinating sub cultures. As an artist, I am a designer, organizer, producer, printer, and facilitator. I wear many hats and collaborate with many different individuals, groups, and agencies in order to bring the arts to Brooklyn, NYC, and the world.

How informed do you believe an audience must be to appreciate a work of art?

That is a question with many answers and is more of a blanket question. Ultimately, how informed I believe an audience must be to appreciate a work of art depends on what the work of art is and what the intention of its creator is. As an artist in these times in which we are living, as a species on this planet, I prefer to make art that is understandable, digestible, and cultivates positive growth, transformation, and cooperation. The question is akin to asking, "How informed do you believe an audience must be to appreciate a work of mathematical genius?" If it were complex math, an understanding of complex math would aid in fully understanding its brilliance. There is high art and there are people that get off on high art. I like creating art that is approachable, about building bridges and greater understanding rather than art that separates, divides, confuses, or comes across as obtuse.

Are those formally schooled in art more capable of appreciation?

If the appreciation of the work of art in question is greatly enhanced by an esoteric or unusual knowledge that is more typically dispersed in a

39

formal school setting, then those schooled would assumedly have greater odds at understanding the art in question. The less obtuse a piece, the more digestible it is, the more it will likely be appreciated. This is not to say a formal schooling is essential, as there can be some enlightened appreciation of masterpieces from the eyes of an unschooled being. It really just depends on to what degree the creator desires that the art be understood, and by whom it is understood. Many times the purpose of a piece is twofold: to be visually appealing, digestible, and understood a certain way to a certain group, and potentially contain greater content hidden in the visual tapestry of the piece. There are colors, symbols, and arrangements that the mind naturally finds satisfying, already encoded with information. That is why there is so much beauty, symmetry, and visual attention used in by some of our oldest institutions. It could be argued that successful symbols are ones that can be digested and understood by the masses, but might only be able to be understood in a different context through formal education, secret societies, or organizations.

What do you personally look for when considering a work? What makes a piece a success in your eyes?

I look for a successful combination of idea/concept with skill/ability, and the degree of integration between those two aspects. While I love successful use of pure formal aesthetics, attention to detail, and/or conceptually strong art, these days, I am personally drawn towards work with strong humanistic content that inspires hope, courage, growth, and change. Where we are as a human species, right now, on this planet, commands attention to the larger situation at hand. To avoid catastrophes of global proportions requires a major shift in our collective human consciousness that can only come directly from the people, not from our greedy and bureaucratic corporations or government. It is easy to find abundant examples of negativity, sadness, and loss. I understand their purpose and place in the creative spectrum, though I prefer to walk away from a piece feeling uplifted and inspired, in a better place because of its teachings.

40

41

JOANN KIM Asian art specialist Assistant to Janaina Tschape Critic - UpDownAcross

Jaime Calder - Who are you, & how are you a member of the artistic community?

Joann Kim - The name is Joann Kim. I studied Art History and Literature and have been employed by various art galleries and artist studios for the last few years. Presently, I’m working at Arario Gallery on 25th, between 10th and 11th, which is a space devoted to Asian Contemporary Art. I also work with Janaina Tschape, who is a German/Brazilian artist. I've taken on positions as intern, art handler, receptionist, exhibition coordinator, studio manager, and now, assistant director. My interest and passion for art have always been at that place between the commercial and academic fields in the art world and I have been writing about my experiences in various publications and blogs. I am gearing ever so slowly towards a curatorial and critical path as time progresses, writing reviews of exhibitions as well as organizing them.

How informed do you believe an audience must be to appreciate a work of art?

The less informed the clearer, brighter and more immediate the reaction and appreciation for a work of art, in my humble opinion. The artwork tends to be less subject to jadedness, bias, and staunch opinions. Folks in the art world tend to be snobby about what they know, even if they may not know much at all. I think about my little sister, who is all of sixteen years old and has the most amazing reactions to works, reactions that are so personal and inquisitive.

It’s true that some works are more accessible than others – I don’t want to compartmentalize what is or is not friendly to an audience. In my experience I have seen that works that are less conceptual are more easily digested by people who might be going in not really knowing what they’re about to experience. You take Lawrence Weiner’s vinyl letters and there is the all-too-familiar cry of “How the fuck is this art?!” It’s not always about what is happening right in front of your eyes. For the viewer, the market may or may not be relevant, and that’s important to realize as well. Appreciable works must offer a balance

42

between plurality and the medium.

I have qualms about the gallery system that stem, mainly, from working within the market and I find myself very frustrated by the terseness of it, the idea that there is an object and the price behind it. Galleries have scaled back considerably and yet people are still failing to look at artworks for what they are. I see this very clearly when I compare my work in Chelsea with my experiences in Brooklyn.

The monied versus the rest of the world.

Exactly. Remove the money and the art is still there, but it’s a completely different form – it’s transformed into a communal experience, a performative experience. I’m very excited by that, and I want to see other people getting excited over it, too. I see too many instances of ambivalence, of aloofness, and that’s not what art is about. Art is not – or I should say, should not – be about currency, about marketing. There are other lines of business for that.

Are those formally schooled in art more capable of appreciation?

No. Next question.

What do you personally look for when considering a work, and what makes a piece a success in your eyes?

My eyes tend to drool over works that are formalistically obsessive, repetitive, intricately patterned and tedious labor intensive. My emotions and brain react strongly to works that toggles the mind and don't directly refer to the everyday: conceptual, minimal, abstractly performative works.

Is that a professional preference or a personal one?

It’s a little of both. Again, I am excited by community – I want to see an emphasis on collaboration and ingenuity, not something that is depending on an outside source to tend to it. I want to see works that have been taken outside of the ‘white box’ and put out into the world by the artists’ own hands. I want people to actually step out of the formalized art world. In Brooklyn we do this thing called Feast. It happens about monthly and it’s this merging of fine art with

43

performative dance, communication, debate, food, and community. People show up to Feast and they pay a sliding-scale donation fee – whatever they can swing – and they eat dinner and enjoy a totally original show. They talk about art, about ideas, and they submit proposals for new performances or shows or creations. At the end of the night everyone votes on the proposals and whomever wins gets all the money from the entry fees to create a whole new show which will be conducted at the next Feast. It is this self-perpetuating element that works across mediums, across tastes and genres, and encourages an active, engaged discussion with people you might not otherwise encounter but who happen to exist within your same community. They’re looking to expand right now, and Feasts are taking root in San Francisco and Seattle and Minnesota. These communities exist and need to make themselves heard in ways that do not revolve around a commercial market. That’s been done. I’m done with that and I think that this market, though it, too, will perpetuate itself just as it has always done, it is changing in ways that are making it more exclusive, which is the absolute last thing it needs. I am looking for the opposite of this. I demand inclusivity.

44

45

PAUL KLEIN Art Activist Critic Curator

Jaime Calder – Hi, Paul. Thank you for talking with me. Could you please tell me a little about who you are and what it is you do?

Paul Klein – I moved to Chicago in 1981 and opened a gallery here. It was destroyed by fire in 1989 and I was actually the first person to go out into the West Loop in that same year. I ran a gallery there until 2004 when I sold it and was hired by McCormick Place to put together a collection for their McCormick West building. I chose to use only Illinois and Chicago artists for that project, and it put me in touch with a lot of Chicago artists and gave me an even better idea of what is going on here. I write the ArtLetter, and what I’m doing right now in particular is estate planning for people who have art collections worth over a million dollars.

Do you sleep?

Oh, I sleep. I’ve got plenty of time.

So what we’re talking about here is information – about art, about education, about appreciation. And I wanted to ask you: at what point do you think that an individual becomes capable of connecting with a work on the level that the artist intended?

Well, let’s go back for a second. While I was waiting for this interview to take place, I started writing an ArtLetter. I started doing these things in September of 2004 and I’m just about at the hundredth of them. I do these things when I feel like it to try and get people to go to the openings, which I think is the most benign time for newcomers – people who are trying to experience art for the first time – and I tend to be a cheerleader for art in Chicago.

Have you been successful in getting people more engaged in Chicago’s art community?

Yes. More Chicago galleries are featuring more Chicago art, and I don’t

46

know if that’s attributable to anything that I’ve done, but I want you to be a supporter of where you are. If I lived in Peoria or Hoboken, I’d be a supporter of their art. But I live in Chicago and if I make it a better place for you, I make it a better place for me. So if someone’s showing a Chicago artist, I’m much more likely to pat that place on the back that, say, someone with a different representation. However, if something is from out of town and that is what you have, then I’m going to talk about it, too, because that’s what I do.

I think that art in Chicago and artists in Chicago are way too underrepresented and that they take this “Second City” stuff too seriously. The inferiority complex is totally unwarranted – I think Chicago is a fabulous place to make art and a lot of great artists are here who are not being accepted or recognized but are doing well all around the globe. Chicagoans need to learn to value their artists.

Do you think that there is any level of exclusivity within this localized community?

I think you don’t know what you’re talking about. There might be something of a kabal, if that’s the right word, or groups of people with a firm emphasis on a certain aesthetic, and I don’t know if this is the right place to get into that.

On a different sort of note, I think Chicago is a two-collar town. It has been since it began in the 1830’s. I think you have exclusivity in Chicago, but I don’t think you have gentry. The work ethic here is incredible and it’s in all of us, including the artists. I also think that people here aren’t seeing what’s right in front of them – they’re looking for trends in other places and you know, that might be nice for those places but I want my own art.

There is a great diversity in Chicago. If you took the top ten artists in Chicago, the top twenty-five, the top women artists, male artists, Latino artists, you’re going to see a ton of breadth. It’s not like everyone is doing post-modern or neo-conceptual or whatever – everybody’s doing everything.

There are institutions in Chicago that are not so much emphasizing work that has a higher degree of labor but a certain conceptual content that frequently coincides with what’s going on on the East Coast and, less

47

often, the West Coast, so there is what’s perceived as a connection between what is going on in a more major art center. Some people like that, some people don’t like that, and some people would even deny that it exists. And this is my interpretation, of course. Other people would recommend totally different things and they’ll have a totally different perspective and probably say that I’m full of shit. There’s room for a lot of different interpretations, but I like mine.

Did you grow up in Chicago?

Yes and no – I grew up on the North Shore until I was in about middle school, when my family moved out to California. I would say that my aesthetic initially was much more Californian. I had a gallery in California for eight years before I moved to Chicago in ’81, and I moved to Chicago in part because Chicago is a very figurative, narrative kind of town – it’s got the blues and the stockyards and the clean architecture. So when I opened my gallery, I thought a gallery should have a focus, so I only showed abstract art. Mathematically, the odds were in my favor: if there are seven serious collectors of abstract art in Chicago and only two galleries showing, I could do alright, and I did.

After a while my scope grew much broader, especially after dealing with McCormick, where I went around to find any good art by Illinois or Chicago artists. We spent a lot of time dealing with size, knowing we’d have to commission things because I didn’t want to do what they call “plop art”, where they take something that already exists and plop it into a new place. So we wound up with things like, for example, one painting was 10’x100’. There’s one sculpture that hangs from the ceiling that is around 5,000 pounds and has about 10,000 LED lights on it. And we did include the wall labels so somebody can come right up to it and say, “Hey, I get it!” So this thing about art being accessible – should we get to that question?

Ha, yes, and I wondered if you could weigh in on the location specific concept, that a Chicagoan might be more capable of appreciating or interacting with a Chicago-created work of art.

No, because the Chicagoan has the Second City attitude, too. Somehow people got it in their heads that a great artist is an artist from somewhere else.

48

So there’s sort of like this “Middle Child” thing happening here.

Yeah, for example – you can buy a painting in New York for $25,000 that is of equal quality of what you can get here in Chicago for $2,500.

Pulling back onto a more general level, do you think it’s possible for someone without a formally trained background to be operating on the same level as a person with a specialty education?

David Hockney once said that there is a direct relationship to the amount of time an artist puts into a work of art and how much time a viewer spends with it, and I think that anyone is capable of looking at a work of art and thinking, “Well, this is cool, look how hard the artist worked to achieve this effect or that image”, and to give it a moment of perspective. And maybe that’s enough of a look that the person might get into what the content is, or what the artist is trying to express.

That’s not the problem. The problem is getting people to look at art in the first place. If you never go out into the art world or to museums or galleries, what are you going to know? Someone might say, “Oh, I don’t like art” but if they aren’t looking they don’t really know.

Think of it this way: imaging you’re walking down the street and you’re looking at people, wondering which people are attractive to us or not. If ten percent of those people are attractive, we’re having a good day, right? But if we’re walking through a museum and ten percent of those works are attractive to us, it’s a bad day? That’s all wrong! The same standards should apply. If more people could get off on a work of art the same way they get off looking at people, they’d go to museums more often.

So what do you look for then, when you’re looking at art?

I’m looking for people from Chicago. Big surprise, right? I am invested in supporting my own.

If I want to be more pure about the sorts of aesthetics that I like, I like minimal, but I also like things that are stimulating and do something new. When I’m considering older artists, I like looking down the line to see where they are and how they go there. I like young artists to have

49

something new to say – I like to be able to get in their heads and see the discovery process. I think there are two kinds of art – there is art that gets around someone’s ideas and philosophies, and there is art where the title comes before the painting. “I am going to do a painting called ‘Custer’s Last Rally’, and that’s what it’s about.”

There are two more things: one is that artists do not necessarily know what their art is about. Your opinion is just as good as theirs. They may be more in touch with it but if you’re getting something else out of it, that’s valid.

Number two is that it’s that it’s really cool to go to a gallery like Walsh Gallery in the West Loop, where Julie [Walsh] shows only Asian art, or going to the South Side Community Art Center, which shows predominantly African-American art, and try and get a different perspective. Take into consideration a work from a culture different from your own and how it’s appreciated and contrast that with your experiences.

It’s also important to remember that it’s not necessary to like a work of art to have a beneficial experience with it. Like The Cars said, “It doesn’t matter where you’ve been, as long as it was deep.”

Just what I needed.

I’m happy to have helped.

50

GILDA REARDON, AGE 55:

“I used to be a member of The Art Institute for many years, but now I just come once in a while on Thursday free nights. I do often attend art museums and when I travel to New York I really enjoy a nice day spent at the Met. I do enjoy the Art Institute more then the Met because I have a strong love for impressionist art and I feel the Art Institute has the one of the best impressionist collections in the country. My favorite thing that I enjoy peeking at in this museum is the miniature room down stairs. It is so fun to compare all the historical interior styles and compare each room to another. My favorite rooms are the old New England style rooms because they are simple like me. I tend to like the older paintings in the museum. To me the most successful works of art are the paintings of Mango. I think that his texture is unique and can’t be copied very easily and that what makes his work so special. His yellows are so great. He is a great inventor of color. I love to look at them so close up but the guards yell at me. I was very interested in viewing the new modern wing and I really did not know what to expect but even though I am not a love of the modern I was truly impressed with how grand the space was. I feel the building itself was quite a work of art and was a great collaboration of the new and old architecture of the museum.”

51

BRENT YONTZ, AGE 23:

“I am senior at Columbia College Chicago. I am getting my degree in cinematography. I feel that for people to understand art they must have something to compare it to. This is probably why most people enjoy things like pop art or art they can compare to the mass media culture we live in today. People can view art anywhere, even on Youtube. People are drawn to commercial-looking images. We live in such a fast- paced world and people don’t always take the time to go to a museum and read information or artist statements. I am here today to really educate and enjoy myself. There is something really peaceful about a quiet museum setting. I am not too sure what makes a work of art successful or not successful. I feel everyone can view art in a different way based on his or her own relationships with the world. “

52

LUKE HEILISTED, AGE 27:

“I feel that, for a gallery to be visually comfortable to a viewer, it needs to have about ten to fifteen good works within the show. Like as many good songs on a great album I guess. I feel anything more is a bit too overwhelming and the viewer can really focus on all the pieces for a good amount of time. As far as a space like the modern wing goes, it’s okay that each gallery section has only three large-scale paintings. Three big paintings in a space like that make you sometimes feel a bit cold but lets you feel the energy of each work a bit better since they are more isolated within a certain space.”

53

KATRINA NYGAURD, AGE 19:

“I feel like abstract paintings are very overlooked and many people finds them to be ugly and then continue to walk or move on to the next piece. I find beauty in paintings I find ugly and I feel it is fun to look at them to try and get an understanding of their value in the art world. They bring something different to a museum. I do not feel that a art work needs to be “pretty” to be successful as long as a work has its own voice and speaks to even a few people that it is successful. I think a lot of people feel threatened by this kind of work because they don’t understand it and dismiss it and immediately put it under the ugly category because they fear the process of trying to understand it. Sometimes being able to understand art is like having a sixth sense. “

54

WELDER VASQUES, AGE 25:

“I enjoy art work that takes a certain skill set. I feel like I have very classic taste. I enjoy landscapes, figure paintings and classical black and white photography. I think any successful work of art should definitely show technical skills. I do not think, “ I could do that art” such as Jackson Pollock paintings are an example of high skill set, but I do understand its movement and place in art history. As far as contemporary “ I could do that” art today that sells for millions of dollars …now that I do not understand.”

55

MARINA ARIZONA, 32:

“I love the modern wing and I come all the time. To be honest, most of the stuff in the modern wing collection I do not always comprehend. I think people like what is popular. I like popular art because of that. Sometimes I am not even really aware if I like the art of not. I think I like things because they are famous. I think a work needs to be both famous and worth a lot of money to have any great value in the art world. Art can be anything these days. Art can simply be an object you could find in your household. I would not want to purchase something too conceptual because people could walk in my house and just think it was, like, any other object in my house and they would not think of it as art or know really how much I paid for it.”

56

ELLEN GISH, AGE 53:

“I got my BFA about 20 years ago and do not currently practice my art today. I am at the museum today on vacation and brought my family to check out the new modern wing. I think the space is very nice and it hosts the work in a fitting manner. I am not a lover of the contemporary. I do not understand it and I think the people that decide what is worth putting in museums and shows currently are crazy. Who decides what is good and what is not good. For crying out loud they put screaming clowns on TVs in here…. really? I can tell you right now that I can not name one modern or contemporary artist that I enjoy.”

57

NORMA BISHKA, AGE 45:

“I choose to come here because I like the classics. I am opposed to places like the MCA because I don’t think it is worth my time to pay ten bucks to see ten works of art. You can come to the Art Institute and see way more for your buck. The few times I have been to the MCA it has always seemed like they were in transition of shows or had shows that had few works with in it. What makes a work of art successful to me is something I could bring home and enjoy for years. How is large contemporary art even sold? Who would purchase such large ugly things for that much money besides museums? Maybe I do not know enough about that world but I do not really care to learn. I am a lover of the old. I enjoy the old religious renaissance paintings that make me feel removed from times today back to history.”

58

MIKE RIDDEN, AGE 16:

“ I feel that for a younger person, I think I am open minded enough to accept modern art in the way that maybe older people cannot. I really love big abstract paints. I don’t feel like any great work of art has to “speak” to me or tell some kind of narrative inspired story. I love energy and color. I like both the happy and sad. I don’t think you need a plaque on the wall to tell you how you should feel about a work. Understanding and feeling art should not require instructions.”

59

PAULA LOUIS, AGE 63:

“Pretty colors and vibrant images are, in my eyes, what makes a work of art a great success. I like things that remind me of my childhood in Indiana, like landscapes and farm images. I am a very simple person and I know what I like. I am not a fan of the modern wing but I do think the space is quite impressive. I think The Art Institute is a wonderful place and they do a great job bringing in some wonderful show and that’s what makes a place like this really happen. This is also a great space to both enjoy art and socialize. I love spending an afternoon here with my girlfriends once and a great while.”

60

Reference Sources

Frank Piatek,’s New City: Profile of the artist referenced in the interview http://art.newcity.com/2008/07/17/frank-piatek-profile-of-the-artist/

Frank Piatek at Roy Boyd Gallery http://www.royboydgallery.com/Piatek/Piatek.htm

Carrie Gundersdorf ‘s official website Carriegundersdorf.com

Paddy Johnson’s article about the Spencer Finch show referenced in Carrie Gundersdorf’s interview http://www.thelmagazine.com/newyork/brainy-art-is-not-for- everyone/Content?oid=1362963

Richard Hull at Western Exhibitions http://www.westernexhibitions.com/hull/index.htm

More on Richard Hull at Cobertt vs. Dempsey http://www.corbettvsdempsey.com/artists/hull/hull.html

Raphael Rubinstein’s article Provisional Painting, referenced in Richard Hull’s interview http://www.artinamericamagazine.com/features/provisional-painting- raphael-rubinstein/

Deb Sokolow’s official website Debsokolow.com

61

Deb Sokolow’s Bad at Sports interview http://badatsports.com/2009/episode-201-deb-sokolow/

Jason Foumberg is a cultural critic, writer, and art historian. A complete record of his writing can be found at http://jasonfoumberg.com/.

Paul Klein is a long-time art activist with accomplishments too many to name, living and working in Chicago. His sporadically updated ArtLetter can be found at http://www.artletter.com.

Joann Kim is a Brooklyn-based critic, curator, and community organizer. Her exploits and opinions are regularly logged at http://updownacross.wordpress.com/.

Sara Schnadt is an artist and curator, as well as the creator of the Chicago Artist Resource. You may see her work at www.saraschnadt.com.

Garrison Buxton is an artist, gallery owner, curator, and fixture within the Brooklyn artistic community. His efforts are visible on-line at http://adhocart.org and http://peripheralmediaprojects.com/.

Anna Knoebel is the founder and editor of Abe's Penny, a micro- publication featuring exclusively designed art and literature. Subscriptions are available at http://www.abespenny.com/.

Other resources include: http://www.chicagoartistsresource.org/ http://www.ladieswholaunch.com/ http://www.huffingtonpost.com http://www.feastinbklyn.org/ Time Out New York Newcity Magazine

62

The authors extend their deepest thanks to the many creative individuals and artistic patrons who contributed to this publication. Your patience, participation, and honesty have made this work possible.

The authors also extend their thanks to Jason Dunda for challenging them to create this work. Jason, you will always be our favorite Canadian.

About the Authors ***

Ji Soo Hong is a painter working in Chicago. She is currently completing her Bachelor of Fine Arts at The School of the Art Institute.

Jaime Calder has been an art teacher, a critic, and builder of ramps for skateboarding cats. She is presently pursuing her MFA at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and talks a lot about that one time she met Ira Glass.

Kendall Hatchey left her hometown of Boston to pursue a Bachelor of Fine Arts in painting at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She is the proud owner of the most well behaved dog on the third coast.