Wednesday, November 16, 2011

22 Lawndales

by Robert Boyd

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It used to be a JCPenney's. Now it's for art

22 Lawndales. That's one way to think of the amount of potential exhibition space that has suddenly--miraculously--become available to Houston artists. Out on the far west side of town, where Westheimer and Richmond hit Highway 6, is a hard luck mall--West Oaks Mall. Just a little history of the mall. In July, 2003, it was acquired by Pacific Retail Capital Partners for $58 million. This mall has over a million square feet of retail, including 100,000 square feet in a free standing department store building that had been occupied by a JCPenney's up until 2003. In September, 2005, they sold the mall to a company owned by Edward H. Okun for $102 million. Okun turned out to be a criminal with a terrible sense of timing. In particular, malls have been in decline in the US for a while (which is not to say that there aren't lots of successful ones), that area of Houston has been in decline for a while, and just three years after Okun bought West Oaks, the U.S. economy collapsed, bringing his criminal real estate empire crashing down. The mall was foreclosed on and sold for $15 million (!). And guess who bought it? Pacific Retail Capital Partners. So when you think about it, they ended up with a mall and $29 million in the bank.

So they have with a seriously underutilized mall and a nice cash cushion. The mall may be a white elephant now, but with this cash in the bank, Pacific Retail is in the position to try something really innovative. Enter Sharsten Plenge, daughter Pacific Retail managing principal, Steve Plenge. She came up with the idea of using the old Penney's as an art space.

How it will be used is up for discussion. Plenge has been talking to local artists about it for a while, but it's still early days. And it has a lot of obstacles--West Oaks Mall is not exactly an art destination. (Although Houston hipsters might be familiar with it because of its Alamo Drafthouse location.) It's a long way from Montrose, baby. So to me, this means that success would be dependent on both attracting Houston's art people to make the 20+ mile trip out plus reaching out to the local community, which includes both rough-and-tumble Alief and ultra-suburban Cinco Ranch. But an equal challenge will be to artists and curators. This space is huge. That means that exhibits in this space will have to measure up to it. Your suite of pencil drawings won't cut it, nor will your one-person performance.

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Some seriously big artworks could fit in this space

That's what I mean by 22 Lawndales. Lawndale has 4375 square feet of exhibition space--2100 square feet in the large John O'Quin gallery, 1100 in the mezzanine, 650 in the Grace R. Cavner gallery, and 525 in the project space. And Lawndale doesn't in any way feel small. Imagine the challenge of filling Lawndale 22 times over. All the alternative art space in Houston--Lawndale, Diverse Works, FotoFest, Project Row Houses, Box 13, Skydive, the Joanna and anything I'm missing doesn't add up half this new space. This alone could tilt Houston's artistic center of gravity severely to the west.

Houston artists and curators--put on your thinking caps! How will you utilize this astonishing resource? Sharsten Plenge wants to hear from you.


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The LapDance Scholarship (NSFW)

by Robert Boyd

I recently got a copy of Phonebook 3, a guide to artist-run spaces in the U.S. (Phonebook 3 deserves it's own post, really--it's literally a printed phonebook with listings for spaces, residencies, and resources published by Chicago art space threewalls. I like the idea, but what's weird is that it's a book. When the internet age came on us, the first type of book to be made obsolete was the telephone directory. The problem with directories is that they are databases that go out-of-date almost instantly. Databases can be easily hosted online, and updated in real time. Phonebook 3 was just published, and already I know at least one entry is out-of-date. Still, it's nice, it's a useful resource, and as an official old, guy, I still like books.)

Under the resources category, they have a subcategory of "Support," which includes small and/or community-based grant-making organizations. And one of these is the LapDance Scholarship in Iowa City. When I saw that listing, I assumed the title was a bit of irony. But apparently not. Here is the listing:
The LapDance Scholarship was founded in December 2010 by Hailey Jude Minder, a self-proclaimed vaginally-funded experience artist.  As an artist, Hailey has always been interested in, and often troubled by, the sources of fine arts funding. Having become somewhat disenchanted with the whole search for funding and the sources of such funds, Hailey set out to make her own.  Moonlighting as a stripper twice a week, Hailey is bringing funding for the arts into the trenches.  She has funded her own art in this manner and now wishes to help her fellow artists achieve their goals.
Obviously this demanded further exploration. Three people/institutions have received grants. The grants are determined by how much money Minder made dancing during that month. The grants tend to range between $350 and $400. The scholarship has been mentioned in the local media. Still, it was hard to know whether this was just a clever art project/ruse by Emily Moran Barwick, the administrator of the scholarship and an MFA candidate at the University of Iowa.

So given my curiosity, I called Barwick up. First of all, Barwick is Minder. Hailey Jude Minder is an alter-ego that grew out of a semi-autobiographical short story by Barwick. She studies in the sculpture department at the University of Iowa. At first, she was having to work four jobs to keep body and soul together. Then she decided to try stripping. The Minder persona is the one who is more physical, who is willing to dance naked for strangers.

OK, one can see this as an option if you are a student and you need cash. But Barwick went further. She did some research and looked at the amount of revenue that the sex industry generates in a year and compared it to the annual federal expenditure for art. Then she divided the latter by the former to get a rough ratio of spending for art/spending for sex.

Then she started applying that ratio to her earnings at the strip club. And she decided to devote that percentage of her earnings to other artists in the form of grants. Aside from wanting to do a good thing for artists, she wanted to create a grant where the source of the money is transparent. To get this grant, you have to be willing to acknowledge that it was paid for by a young woman's nude dancing. Whereas, if you get a grant from a foundation, you don't really know what kinds of activities paid for it.

Barwick is personally interested in sex, money, etc. An earlier project involved a John Holmes dildo. She was slightly freaked out that someone had licensed the use of a dead porn star's member. So she took one of the John Holmes dildos and cast it in plaster--and made copies (unauthorized, presumably). Thinking about the kitschy "Cow Parade" painted sculptures (and the many similar follow-ons that appeared like a plague all over the U.S.), she handed out copies of Holmes' plaster penis to artist friends with instructions to decorate it. The John Holmes Prick Parade was shown in a gallery on campus--but the gallery doors were kept shut (not the usual practice), and there was a big warning on the door.

And stripping is not her first foray into the sex business. She worked at a sex shop first, then as a phone sex operator, before becoming a stripper. I remarked that in each case, her level of contact with the customer was getting more intimate. Did she have a stopping point? She said that she wouldn't do actual prostitution. (Whew).

She works at a club called Woody's where her managers and fellow dancers know her as Hailey. (Stop by and support the arts if you're ever in Cedar Rapids!) The dances are all nude, and while there is a private VIP room, it's not really private. It has a video camera pointed at the dancer and her customer. This video was the basis for one of Barwick's most intriguing artworks, Philanthropic Performace. It's about the LapDance Scholarship itself. She went into Woody's and copied all the video that featured her dancing in the VIP room. Then she laboriously blanked out each customer's face. Then in a booth built to show the video, she has twelve channels running simultaneously at different speeds. In addition, she has a closed circuit television where the camera is aimed at the face of the person sitting in the booth and the monitor showing his or her face is on the outside of the booth.




Emily Moran Barwick, Philanthropic Performace, multichannel video, closed circuit video, mixed media, 2011


Obviously this work is about voyeurism, about looking and being seen, surveillance, the male gaze, sex, money and a lot more. Artists whose work influenced Barwick include Vito Acconci (especially Command Performance, but one has to imagine Seedbed was also in the back of Barwick's mind) and more important, Eleanor Antin's Carving: A Traditional Sculpture.


One problem Barwick has had is getting enough proposals. She guesses that artists are perhaps embarrassed or offended by the LapDance Scholarship. It's a local grant, so I encourage any Cedar Rapids-area artists to apply. I mean, you could get a grant from some foundation whose endowment has stock in Bank of America and Goldman Sacks or you could get a grant from a woman who dances naked. The choice is yours.


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Sunday, November 13, 2011

Trimpin at the Cinema Arts Festival

by Robert Boyd



Trimpin speaking at the Cinema Arts Festival

I saw, the Trimpin documentary, Trimpin: The Sound of Invention, last night. I wish the Cinema Arts Festival was running some movies twice, because I'd like to recommend this film in such a way that you could go and see it at the festival. But it is available on DVD. Trimpin spoke afterwards--as you can see, he is a very animated speaker!

It frames Trimpin's story around the conceptualization of, rehearsals for, and performance of a collaboration with the Kronos Quartet. But it looks at his history as an artist and various projects he has undertaking over the years. Trimpin is a highly eccentric artist--he doesn't really come out of any particular movement. The closest to his art would be Jean Tinguely. Trimpin speaks of moving to the U.S because they had great junk here--literal junk. His art is made from scrap that he gets from junk yards and surplus dealers. I was reminded of the great Calvin Tompkins article in The New Yorker about Jean Tinguely--he was in New York to build his Homage to New York in 1962, and Tompkins accompanied him to a huge junk yard in New Jersey. Tinguely was amazed and in love--he stated he wished he could live in the junk yard. I got that vibe from Trimpin, too.

Trimpin lives in Seattle and was there in the early 90s, when I lived there. He was pretty well-known in artistic circles there. I remember a show of sound art at COCA, where one of his pieces was the centerpiece of the show. It was the Kloppen, a computer-controlled room-sized percussion device. The percussion, a wooden clacking, was made by tiny mallets inside wooden shoes. The shoes hung from the ceiling, slightly below eye-level (I'm 6'1"), so I could see the mechanism--a little electric motor connected to a small mallet inside the shoe. A signal from the wire that the shoe hung from would cause the mallet to strike in inside top of the shoe--clack! This signal was controlled by a computer. This is typical of his work--the level of technology employed ranges from medieval to post-industrial, often in the same piece. It's the ultimate tinkerer's art. (I wish I could tell you exactly when I saw this, but the lame COCA website only has archives back to 2007. It was in the early 90s, though) It was an awesome immersive sound experience.


Trimpin, Mini-Kloppen, mixed media

At Edwards theater, they set up a small version of Kloppen--the Mini-Kloppen. Too bad they couldn't have found a gallery in town to host the full-sized Kloppen for a month. It's a highly entertaining piece of work to experience live, which is pretty much the only was you can ever experience a Trimpin--he doesn't make sound recordings of his sound pieces.

Afterwards, there was a Q&A with Trimpin and filmmaker Peter Esmonde. Esmonde said something that stuck with me about why one does a documentary like this. When a film crew steps into Trimpin's studio, it's usually a local news crew doing a three minute bit on a "local kook." Consequently, Trimpin doesn't permit people to film his studio, and Esmonde had to work hard to convince Trimpin of his good intentions. The phrase "local kook" rang true. There is a gulf between the public and an artist like Trimpin--or, these days, almost any artist. So in a locality--Seattle, Houston, wherever--people who should be lionized as local heroes get little recognition locally. At best, they are identified as "local kooks."


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The Zen of Nuevo Fuego at PG Contemporary

by Dean Liscum

In American culture, Buddhas equal zen.

Susan Plum's exhibit Nuevo Fuego at PG Contemporary includes several Buddha busts in glass rectangular cages. They're well executed, but they don't take me there. I look; I appreciate, but I don't transcend.

Red Buddhas I
flameworked pyrex glass, cast plaster, jacaranda seed pods
2011

The most compelling aspects of these pieces are the objects that Plum puts with the Buddhas (jacaranda seed pods with the red one, and amethyst with the blue one) and the flameworked glass frames.

Blue Buddhas I
flameworked pyrex glass, amethyst, cast plaster, enamel
2011

It's these crystalline webs that are transcendent. They are glass filigree. In person, these networks of super-heated silicon are as delicate and complex as my description insinuates. And yet they possess a certain self-sustaining rigor as a space that your mind can inhabit without the fear that it will collapse upon itself.

Weave
Mixed media
2011
I spoke briefly with Plum and she described the process of making them which starts with a straight rod of pyrex glass that is super heated to over 2800 F and is then sculpted and fused. She referred to constructing these weaves as "drawing in 3D," which reminded me of the artist Gego, who had the exhibition Questioning the Line: Gego, A Selection, 1955—1990 at the MFAH in 2005.

Solar Round (from the side)
Fired clay, flameworked pyrex glass, enamel
2011
In Solar Round, Plum's glass weaving combines with other techniques and materials to form my favorite piece of the show. The delicate vortex/nest of flameworked glass mounted on the clay base with concentric circular grooves and the shadows cast by it just work for me.

Solar Round (from the front)
Fired clay, flameworked pyrex glass, enamel
2011
And then there's Branches. This simple, formal piece may be unfairly exploiting my zen state of mind as a result of the "Weaves," but it does it successfully. And although the lighting is terrible for photographs, it actually enhances the experience of the pieces.

Branches
Flameworked pyrex glass branches, natural branches,
latex paint, tin amalgam
2011

If you're in need of a little zen, view these pieces in person. The exhibit runs to through December 10, 2011.


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Saturday, November 12, 2011

Your Moment of Texas Art History

by Robert Boyd



Joseph M. Glasco, untitled, mixed media collage on paper, 1978 (care of artnet)

Joseph Glasco (1925-1996) was an abstract expressionist painter who grew up in Texas, lived in New York, and later moved back to Galveston, where he had a studio. He had the single most impressive work in Fresh Paint. And Donald Baechler was briefly his studio assistant.
In February 1981 [...] I found a temporary job in Joe Glasco's studio, where I worked for a month while his regular assistant was on sabbatical.
My job had two main parts: to roll joints for Joe while he painted on scraps of canvas, and to glue his paintings together with gallons of Elmer's glue. [No. 1: First Works by 362 Artists]

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Friday, November 11, 2011

!Women Art Revolution

by Robert Boyd



Lynn Hershman Leeson speaking after the showing of !Women Art Revolution

Last night I saw !Women Art Revolution, a documentary by Lynn Hershman Leeson, which compiles video of feminist artists taken by Hershman since 1967. She's been videotaping interviews with these artists continually and has literally thousands of hours of interviews. In a sense, this film is an adjunct to the video, which is an amazing database of information about feminist art. And you can see it online--Hershman donated the video to Stanford University, who have made some of the video accessible online. (I wonder if making the video accessible online is an ongoing project--if so, they have made a good start but have a long way to go.)

The movie has a somewhat confused structure. In part, it is chronological--the origins of feminist art is located in the 1960s. The film is clear on placing this art within the social movements of the 60s and in opposition to the apolitical, contentless art of minimalism. This is something that is key and will come up later in terms of art history.

Hershman places her own story within the context of the larger topic, including discussing how she wrote fake reviews of her work under three pseudonyms, got them published, and used them to get her first gallery shows. Her point was that because she was a woman, it was hard for galleries to take her work seriously, so she had to engage in this ruse. Without knowing the specific circumstances and galleries, it's hard to judge how true that is--I mean, any young artist without a gallery, male or female, finds it hard to get a gallery. (Old artists, too!) Nonetheless, her clever tactic worked, but more important, it actually prefigured some of her subsequent work in which she took on a fictional identity (so well, in fact, that her alter ego had better credit than she did). All this is interesting, but it stops the movie dead whenever she talks about her own art. It's tricky to make a movie that is simultaneously about an art movement and about oneself.

The movie moves into the early seventies, when feminist art really took off as a thing. Judy Chicago becomes a major figure, not only for her own art, but also for her founding and cofounding several programs in feminist art. The funny thing about this section is you see that Chicago wasn't good at keeping these programs going--the details are never spelled out, but you get the idea that there were fallings out with her collaborators. That said, lots of interesting artists and thinkers came through Chicago's programs. The movie also discussed A.I.R.--Artists in Residence, a non-profit women's art gallery founded in 1972. Probably the two most famous artists in A.I.R. were Nancy Spero and Ana Mendieta.

The way I'm describing the movie makes it seem much more narrative than it is. While there is a general sense of time passing (60s-70s-80s), !Women Art Revolution veers off into discussions of different media that were pioneered by these artists (particularly performance and video) and different subject matters. It touches on controversies (particularly Congress discussing The Dinner Party and later the revocation of certain N.E.A. grants in the 80s), but mostly keeps it focused on the artists and what they were doing.

The film portrays the 80s as a period of cultural retrenchment--Reagan, the NEA, and the Guerrilla Girls. But it also makes the point that this was the moment when women art stars came to the fore--Cindy Sherman, Barbara Kruger and Jenny Holzer. The Guerrilla Girls are interviewed at length, and their clever, fact-filled graphics about the percentage of women in galleries and museums is recognized. The film suggests that they had to be anonymous because of the danger to their professions if they became known, and wraps that up into the general sense of 80s reaction. But to me, what we have with the Guerrilla Girls is moving beyond feminists addressing other feminists (for example, consciousness raising) which was very common in the 70s to feminists addressing everybody in the art world, whether they were self-identified as feminist or not. When they pointed out how few female artists there were in the Museum of Modern Art, their intended audience were the curators, directors and trustees of MOMA. And perhaps even more important, future curators, directors and trustees. Because as the movie pointed out, trustees--particularly women trustees--have gradually pushed for more women in permanent collections.

The battle between feminist art and minimalism reaches a gruesome apotheosis in 1985. Ana Mendieta, whose work dealt with identity, gender, and the body--obviously important fields for feminist art--was married to one of the key minimalist artists, Carl Andre. Mendieta fell from a 34th floor window on September 8, after an argument with Andre. Andre said he was not in the room when she fell. Andre was tried for murder, and many artists contributed to his legal defense (the film specifies male artists, but I don't know if his supporters were exclusively male). This outraged women artists, and they picketed the trial. Andre was acquitted, which increased their outrage.

The film concludes with the success (one might say triumph) of feminist art, including its institutionalization. Hershman discusses how her own work is now in the collection of MOMA and the Tate, and that she was able to finance this film. She interviews younger feminist artists who have received MacArthur grants. She discusses WACK!, the huge survey of feminist art at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles. And perhaps the most amusing parts of the film were excerpts of an interview with Marcia Tucker, the first female curator at the Whitney Museum who later founded the New Museum. Tucker proved that a feminist could create a lasting art institution.

But the most powerful statement--and the most revisionist--was by Martha Rosler. She stated that feminism was the most important art movement in recent history, and pointed out that art historians and critics still tried to split all these artists up into an art history based on style (minimalism, post-minimalism, conceptualism, neo-expressionism, whatever) or medium (performance, video, etc.), when the most logical grouping was by ideology (feminism). This rings really true--they way you read about these artists is as members of different movements as opposed to all being part of the same movement, the feminist art movement.

I've read most of the WACK! catalog, and now I've seen this film. What I would really like to read would be a good narrative history of feminist art. Who did what when, written in a down-to-earth warts-and-all style. (I hate to admit it, but I'd like to know how Judy Chicago managed to piss off so many of her colleagues in the early 70s, for example.) But that's just me--the art world tends to prefer more high-level art histories, as well as more theoretical texts. Story-telling and reportage are frowned upon for some reason.

Although it's not without faults, I recommend !Women Art Revolution highly. It will be showing again in Houston in February, 2112, at the MFAH.


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Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Weirdest Facebook Ad of the Day

by Robert Boyd

Facebook's ad algorithm doesn't usually put anything I ever want to click through to on my Facebook page. I have to admit, this one intrigued me.

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It clicks through to something called Classes USA. I won't link to it--it appears to be an information gathering company that sells your personal info to for-profit colleges (which are themselves basically college loan harvesters). And, alas, there is nothing on their site about cute blonde girls painting themselves.


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