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06/05/2006: "Advantages of the Midwest and the Arts" by Sue Spaid
The best thing about living in the Midwest is the easy access one has to neighboring cities, provide one owns a car. Even with skyrocketing gas prices, one can visit multiple cities for the same cost as a round-trip ticket to any of these cities. Whether one drives 60 or 600 miles, one will discover art somewhere. If one has the stamina to drive 100 miles, one might as well keep going. You'd be surprised how much ground you can cover in a long weekend. Columbus/Indianapolis
When a friend recommended we drive to Columbus for a day, I didn't hesitate. After visiting Rebecca Ibel Gallery to see two painting exhibitions, we had lunch with Rebecca across the street at Bodega, a super-festive sandwich/salad joint. We then headed to the Wexner, where we spent far more time than we had planned, eventually receiving a parking ticket. Nonetheless, we really enjoyed the "Extreme Textile" exhibition, which featured all sorts of unimaginable synthetic fabric applications (bicycle tires, astronaut underwear, pipelines, prosthetics).
There, we also saw William Kentridge's super-magical 7 Fragments for Georges Méliès, which features the artist in his studio making/unmaking art, wrestling with ideas/mental blocks, and producing plenty of referential ties. Mike Rogers' video Cross Country (2006), a rather straight-forward look at America from the perspective of a 16mm camera mounted on his dashboard and shot one frame every tenth of a mile, yielded such a fast-paced perspective and homogenous overview that one couldn't recognize any of the cities flashing by. Also on view was Diptych, which juxtaposed Jock Nordström's "nasty" drawings with Mindy Shapiro's delightfully, playful sculptures. We tried to visit the Columbus Museum of Art, but the museum seemed so besieged by a flower show that we opted to skip it. On our way out of town, we stopped by the Miranova Building to view Rebecca Ibel's satellite gallery and catch a cocktail on restaurant M's oddly-Moroccan patio.
A few weeks later, I drove students from my Art as Experience graduate seminar to the Indianapolis Museum of Art, so that they could experience first hand works by Robert Irwin, James Turrell, Alice Aycock, Ana Mendieta, Vito Acconci, and Do-ho Suh, which consists of millions of plastic figures holding up a floor. While there, we scoured every image in Amy Cutler's survey, whose totally menacing (verging on merciless), mercurial fairy tale 'tude made Nordström seem like a pussycat.
Philadelphia
I drove directly to the Abington Art Center to check out the recent renovations to their ever-changing sculpture garden. Caught off guard by the ICA's not being opened until noon, I had to occupy an hour visiting the adjacent Urban Outfitter's, searching for the art school and looking for Penn's famous Louis Kahn building. Once inside the ICA, I was tickled to find Make Your Own Life: Artists In & Out of Cologne. Less a survey of Cologne artists, as I had imagined, and more a glimpse into that city's survival tactics, following the wall's fall and Berlin's ballooning into an artworld capital. The whole show was incredibly inspiring. Even Stephen Prina's work here, a visual history of Galerie Max Hetzler's Cologne space, was originally created in 1991 as Hetzler set sail for Berlin. One senses here that art scenes are born of flow: artists leaving, artists arriving, artists creating art/sound/music, however small/loud. I especially enjoyed Andrea Fraser's painting lecture. Having seen dozens of Candida Höffer photographs in my day, I was a little afraid to go upstairs to see an entire survey, especially since her frozen photos defy flow. Nonetheless, there were plenty of unfamiliar images and for the first time I detected a slight quirkiness in her site selections, though they are no less asphyxiating. This was a great pairing. Despite their German roots, these exhibitions seemed born from different worlds. While Candida is venturing abroad, hoards of adventurers are passing through Cologne.
Having never visited the Tyler School of Art Gallery, I dropped by there and found two MFA Thesis Exhibitions (more "nasty" drawings). I then checked out "Themescapes," a clever installation of faux-constructed domestic objects (all priced to sell) by collaborators Paul Coors, Jamie Dillon and Nick Paparone at 222 Gallery, sited within a graphic design studio. By chance, I had parked right in front of cerealart, the publisher whose playful multiples are sold online and in museums, so I glanced through their window. I drove directly to the Fabric Workshop and Museum and easily found metered street parking, adjacent an expensive parking lot. Inside, I found Shahzia Sikander's luscious FWM project, which combines silkscreen printing and her hand-painted gouache motifs and her newest video, which is the perfect medium for her ever-morphing imagery. In addition to the various works from the collection (most contain some fabric element), there was an octopus-like exhibition whose tentacles spread in every direction-contemporary dance, a meditative chamber, conversation, snail mail, recipes, community gardens, clay workshops-yet it was centered around a gorgeous table from Ghana.
New York City
My plan was to visit uptown museums first, which are open late Fridays, and to check out Chelsea galleries Saturday. En route to NYC, a friend phoned to say that she'd found a better plan. By switching everything around, we could attend Chelsea openings for Jenny Holzer and Russ Crotty, which proved fortuitous since we ran into lots of old friends. While in Chelsea, we saw several wonderful works, including Olafur Eliasson's geodesic chandelier of sorts; Dannielle Tegeder's inspiring aerialist paintings (and mini-sprawls); Andrea Zittel's survey, including the fantastical escape vehicles, at the New Museum of Art; Margarita Cabrera's stitched pop sculptures; and Bob Nickas's group show comprised entirely of red works. Strangely, Chelsea featured three "artful pee" sitings- an Ashley Bickerton painting of a woman squatting while peeing, a Paul Waldman woman-peeing-like-a-dog-fountain, and Guy Ben-Nur filming himself bifurcate his pee with a fork. Holzer presented seriously enlarged, redacted documents from all eras, emphasizing how un-free our Freedom of Information Act really is, as well as nice-size black and white photographs of various text works projected onto buildings. Crotty's new work was mostly presented in massive table-size books, which required gloved page-turners, so it was difficult to grasp all that one might have wanted to see. We had plans to meet up afterwards with a friend at Mario Batali's newest Il Posto, but it seemed too stuffy, so he recommended Megu, a Tribeca sushi restaurant around the corner from Odeon. At least ten times more expensive than I could ever afford on my own, it was a total treat with wasabi-grating servers, delicious sushi delicacies, Sakitinis and totally inventive deserts. Somehow, we still had energy for dancing at S.O.B.'s
The next morning, one of the artists in Karen Bravin and John Post Lee's fabulous park show drove us to Riverside Park (adjacent Riverside Drive), where we managed to experience half of the works (extends from 155th to 72nd Street) in 90 minutes. We especially enjoyed Elana Herzog's (84th to 91st St) pink plastic loops, sited on giant grates like sparsely hooked hook rugs or inscrutable signs for planes flying overhead; Fabian Marcaccio's The Fall, the most generous and monumental outdoor work ever, filling the length of the 72nd St. underpass tunnel; and Orly Genger's massive rope-crocheted giant shawl, draped over dozens of boulders, at the park's 70th street entrance. Unfortunately, Mischa Kuball's silver-foil tunnel had already been vandalized. I hope to complete the show's northern half on my next NYC trip. Just as I arrived at the Whitney, the Guerrilla Girls (all wearing different masks) were making a movie about their influence, for which I was interviewed. Just as America's middle class is shrinking, this Biennial was strangely chock full of unknown emerging talent and well-known seasoned artists. For more details, check out my review of the biennial in the next issue of artUS. In the meantime, let's say I left quite weary and distressed, though I must admit that it was an apt portrait of America, though not necessarily of American art. I walked a few blocks north on Madison to recuperate at an elegant gelato joint, a ritual I have performed after every Whitney trip over the past 20 years. Finally catching my breath, I headed over to Fifth Avenue to the Met to see "Anglo Mania," the Costume Institute-organized fashion show staged in the museum's English Period Rooms. There was plenty of invention and delight here, especially Stephen Jones' not-to-be-believed headdresses, made from any and everything- Barbie legs, tobacco, tulle, feathers etc. Before checking out Kara Walker's curatorial endeavor, I went to the roof to view Cai Guo-Qiang's glass wall with faux birds flopped at its base and giant komodo dragons perched against the skyline. Before returning downtown, I walked through David Smith's thorough retrospective, which included scores of sculpture-related drawings and sculptures from every era, including some fabulous works reminiscent of linguistic characters and even Elana Herzog's pink loops. Nearing the bottom of the ramp, I realized the strange absence of Smith's signature sculpture, Hudson River Landscape, which I knew from the Whitney. When I got to the main floor, I happily found it sneaking a peek through the sea of crates placed on the floor to hasten the next day's packing for its trip to Paris.
Cincinnati/Dayton
Although Cinti is teeny as compared to NYC or Philly, we have our share of spontaneous art shows, scheduled openings, random happenings and formal art gatherings. There are currently several beautifully-installed exhibitions at the CAC. If you go there, you'll find a Los Carpinteros survey, the Home Show, a new SIMPARCH project (a second is across the street at the Weston Art Gallery) and the Ant Farm survey, which I saw earlier at the ICA and Yale, though there is always more stuff to discover at every venue. In addition to SIMPARCH's beautifully crafted two-storey speaker box installed at the Weston Art Gallery, there's also veteran painter Stewart Goldman's most recent paintings and tape works, several of which seem culled from his youthful spirit. Our best annual event is "Without Walls," for which artists place new works of varying interest around the grounds of Mac's Farm & Sculpture Center, a working farm in Blue Ash. By now, this site hosts ten permanent works, some remaining from prior exhibitions and others produced to rest here. Of the new works, my favorite is Ryan Roa's Hasties, a series of twelve mirrored-mylar rectangles inserted about six inches below ground level, which inspires wonderful phenomenal effects as one unhastily wanders around them, though it also evokes a burial site. In March, I reported on Emily Buddendeck and Kelly Wanstrath's intense public "bottle-smashing" performance. For Shattered- an Ode to the Crescent City, those two gals delivered that event's glass shard tonnage here to glisten in a rusting kid's pool, on which several lily buds float like lily pads. I had just discovered Luke Ebner's amazing motor-greenhouse, so I was excited to see his participation here, which was of all things several delicate glass objects suspended from lines strung between trees, created in collaboration with Chad Cully.
Gearing up for the International Sculpture Conference, which visits Cinti June 21-24, several galleries have organized sculpture exhibitions. One of the most solid exhibition's is "3-D" at Carl Solway Gallery, which features everything from contemporary classics-Tony Cragg, Tom Butter, Willie Cole or Jessica Stockholder- to works by playful '90s artists Carmel Buckley, Alyson Shotz, Tony Luensman and Amy Kaw. In addition to the 54-artist sculpture show that Celine Hawkins is co-organizing for an adjacent warehouse space, Publico just opened "Do Great Things," a two-person show featuring Brian Nicely and Matthew Waldbillig's "pioneer ideas" transposed into sculpture. Perhaps the best news of all is the recent arrival of four downtown galleries-Nicholas Gallery on Court Street, Workspace 114 at 13th & Clay, Carteaux & Leslie (a fabulous antiquarian bookstore with monthly exhibitions) and 1305 on Main Street, to round-out existing alternative spaces-Semantics, Junior, Warsaw Project Space, Manifesta and the Kennedy Heights Arts Center-sited 3-10 minute from downtown.
Having driven to the Dayton Art Institute to do research in their library, I thought I might as well check out their "Diana: A Celebration," which I had heard featured only her clothes. Although I adored her as millions did, her taste in clothes always seemed too beaded gown/St. John's knit for my torrid fashion sense, so this exhibition wasn't even on my list. Had she worn Alexander McQueen, John Galliano or Vivien Westwood, as I would have done if I were Queen of England (we're both born in 1961), I would have gone in a split second. What I found instead was indeed a surprise. By the second gallery, I was sobbing: the tears continued until I reached the room featuring her outfits. Diana had said that she wanted to be remembered as a work horse, not a clothes horse and indeed her room of clothes paled in comparison to her life's work, both personal and professional. Of course, this had been my criticism all along, but I had no idea of the lineage of "Spencer" ladies dating back centuries, her optimistic letters from boarding school, her little school trunk used to sneak in snacks, her collection of rather ugly small ceramic animals (yes, we all had them in the 1960s), her dad's home movies of this rather goofball girl self-identifying as a swimmer and tap dancer, her dreams to become a ballerina eventually dashed by her tallness, or the prayer book gifted by Mother Theresa. We had heard the stories of her cleaning houses for a living, becoming a nanny and then marrying way too young, perhaps to get out of her horrible jobs. You know the rest, but in the context of an exhibition about someone's life, this show was super intense. After all, the exhibition's center piece were 185,000 books piled like a wall, filled with all of the world's condolences and grief.
Rebecca Ibel Gallery www.rebeccaibel.com
Wexner Center for the Arts www.wexarts.org
Indianapolis Museum of Art www.ima-art.org
Abington Art Center www.abingtonartcenter.org
Institute of Contemporary Art www.ica.org
Tyler School of Art Gallery www.temple.edu/tyler
222 Gallery www.222gallery.com
cereal art www.cerealart.com
The Fabric Workshop and Museum www.fabricworkshopandmuseum.org
New Museum of Contemporary Art www.newmuseum.org
Studio in the Park (Riverside Park) www.riversideparkfund.org
Whitney Museum of American Art www.whitney.org
Metropolitan Museum of Art www.met.org
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum www.guggenheim.org
Contemporary Arts Center www.contemporaryartscenter.org
Weston Art Gallery www.CincinnatiArts.org/Weston
Mac's Farm and Sculpture Center www.macsfarm.org
Carl Solway Gallery www.solwaygallery.com
Publico www.publicoart.com
Dayton Institute of Art www.daytonartinstitute.org






















