Schlitz Tied House, 21st and Rockwell. 2008. Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

Our main goal is to discover and document little known elements of Chicago’s infrastructure, architecture, neighborhoods and general cityscape, whether existing or historical. — Forgotten Chicago

ArtStyle: What’s the background of Forgotten Chicago?

Serhii Chrucky (SC): Jake Kaplan and I went to Whitney Young High School on the near west side, and we met there as freshmen. I suppose the first effort we made in the vein of what we do on the website was a trip out to 54th Avenue on what is now the Pink Line. We were looking at the stations houses along that line — some dated back to 1895 — and I was photographing them. Of course, that line is very different now. I wish I was better at taking and storing photographs then. I don’t know where those negatives are anymore, but at least the motivation was there.

I met Corinne Aquino at a party a little more than two years ago, which was about the time Jake and I were seriously considering doing the site. We would drive around on the weekends exploring and photographing, and Corinne ended up coming along every week.

Mike Damian also went to high school with us. He handles behind the scenes tech-related issues.

Corinne and Jake contribute writing, research, and ideas. I am responsible for the visual aspects for the site, such as the design, layout, and photography, and I write pages as well.

Division Bridge, Division and Halstead. 2007.
Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: What is Forgotten Chicago all about? Do you focus mainly on architecture and signage?

SC: The overarching subject of the website is Chicago’s built environment. Architecture and signage are two out of three main areas, the other being infrastructure. We try to focus on things which are not well known or already written about. Being so involved with all of the intricacies of creating this thing, I find it hard to step back and sum it all up. When people ask me what the site is about, I always stumble for the right words. I haven’t perfected that yet.

Lunt Bus Turnaround, Pratt and Kedzie. 2008. Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: Why are you interested in the relics of Chicago’s past? Have you thought about the significance of what you are doing in terms of preserving the remnants of Chicago’s history before they completely disappear?

SC: Regular people have little control over their environment outside of home and work. The urban environment is entirely man-made, carefully designed, and subject to change overnight. Beyond being completely dependent on this environment for resources, we are affected psychologically by it. But there is little permanence, and notable buildings are torn down here every year. To the regular person, at least to me, this is traumatic. Writing about and photographing places before they disappear is my small way of stabbing back at the demolition machine, the powers that be, and in a way, time.

However, being so conscious of what the built environment used to be like, I can’t help but walk or drive down a street and see a series of voids. Also, I want to be clear that I don’t do any of this out of reminiscence for the “good old days.” I simply believe that Chicago in general has an awful record when it comes to preserving its buildings. There is this history of turning against the past rather than seeing value in what already is.

As far as preservation goes, I don’t think that mere photography counts. An image of a building is no substitute for a building. I also think the balance of power is so greatly skewed toward the side of developers, politicians, and the whims of the wealthy, as to make the work of real preservationists quite difficult. I’m not saying nothing has been accomplished, or that everything should be saved, or even that there aren’t exceptions.

All that aside, I’m not bitter about everything that falls by the wayside of “progress.” There are some things which become disused through actual obsolescence, and sit idly for years. There are patterns of development that occurred rationally, but the reason has become lost. There are many curiosities and quirks that if, investigated deeply enough, will turn up interesting stories.

Miami Bowl Sign, Archer and Pulaski. 2003. Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: Does infrastructure include public art such as murals?

SC: Infrastructure includes things like roads, rail, canals, bridges, sewers, and so forth. Any discussion of public art on the site would be tied into a discussion of the support — buildings, or as we see often, embankments. I’m working on a page about the Bloomingdale branch, a disused rail right of way on an embankment, much of which is covered with some of the most interesting murals in the city. So, in this particular instance, I suppose infrastructure includes murals. Otherwise, public art is like any other art form, and we wouldn’t cover it as a phenomenon unto itself.

Patio Theatre Marquee, Irving Park and Austin. 2008.
Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: Have you done any historical research to determine what to search for? What criteria do you use in terms of your search subjects or objects?

SC: We do research not to determine what to search for, but to find out more about what we’ve found while searching. Topics and subject matter seem to come about organically through observation and discussion.

There’s no organized method. We have a backlog of so many ideas for pages at this point; I don’t foresee running out of them. We’ve gotten much better at researching since we began the site. It’s definitely an under-appreciated skill.

The criteria for how we cover material is pretty simple: the topic has to be about the built aspect first and foremost, with any social aspects second. You’ll never see us write something like “Race and Class in Pilsen: 1930-2010.” Our version would be “Changing Demographics in Pilsen As Seen Through Ethnic Iconography,” or something similar. That’s just an example. I don’t even know if that’s feasible. There aren’t many Bohemian murals.

Revell’s Ghost Ad, Halsted and 69th. 2008. Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: What do you want people to learn about what you discover?

SC: If you had asked me a month ago, I wouldn’t have had a good answer. Recently, I’m hearing more and more about how people read the site and are influenced to go out and explore the city in greater detail for themselves. If the website helps to influence the perception people have of their environment, then we have achieved something far greater than an assemblage of esoteric facts.

Wood Paved Alley, Hudson and Armitage. 2007. Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: In addition to your website, do you intend to display your photographs in a public forum?

SC: Yes, of course. I had some photographs in a show at University of St. Francis in Joliet a number of months ago. I didn’t find out until I went to the opening that the curator had also included Forgotten Chicago in the show in the form of an article printed out and placed in a display case. He had it up on a computer as well, though I can’t say how much interest it drummed up. I don’t know if Forgotten Chicago itself should be displayed as an art object or in a gallery context, but I jump at any opportunity to show my photographs as prints, rather than web media. The photography for Forgotten Chicago is one of many projects I have going. Any interested gallery directors out there?

97, Evergreen near Damen. 2007. Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: Have you thought about partnering with a cultural institution such as the Chicago History Museum to further your goals?

SC: That is a very tricky question. On one hand, we would all love to do the website as a day job. Getting paid to do this work would be our one and only reason to consider partnering with any institution. On the other hand, the pursuit of money is something which could harm our integrity. Integrity in the sense that you, the reader, know we haven’t been paid to advocate any specific agenda. Some people may consider the opposite to be true — the institution is the bearer of culture, the “reliable source,” and our website is merely “info-tainment.” We don’t see it that way. Museums, colleges, corporations and so forth interpret history from a different perspective and package it in a certain way. Our website is written in what could be seen as a hesitant first-person perspective, with our feelings about the subject matter inextricably coloring the material. We want to be able to write about what we want, cover topics that may seem too trivial to throw money at, and not be restricted in what we say or do. That is not to say an arrangement couldn’t be worked out; it depends entirely on the terms and circumstances.

Lagoon, Indian Boundary Park. 2007. Photo: Serhii Chrucky.

ArtStyle: Have you thought about the future, and how long you will continue to do your searches?

SC: I will continue to work on the website as long as I live in Chicago. I don’t plan on living the rest of my life here, but I do know I’ll be here a few more years. I’m sure the rest of the people who work on the site would say the same thing, but one never knows what the future may bring.

Technorati Tags: Forgotten Chicago, photography, architecture, signage, built environment, infrastructure, Chicago’s history, preservation, public art, historical research

An interview with Josue Pellot, Chicago Artist To Watch

By Miguel Jimenez

Everyone meets at Humboldt Park’s Café Colao to have coffee on a Tuesday morning — from local politicians to the neighborhood’s elderly. I met with Chicago Artist to Watch Josue Pellot, and what began as an interview developed into another conversation among the many in Café Colao.

MJ: What do you usually order here?

JP: At the very least, I’ll always have Café con Leche.

MJ: Why did you choose this café for our interview?

JP: I was born in Puerto Rico but raised here [Humboldt Park], and a lot of my work comes from conversations I’ve had in this Café, from just hanging out and talking to people. Ideas for some work began here and turned into full projects. For instance, I was eating a sandwich one day and saw this machine in the corner.

Josue points to the “Boricuas,” a toy vending machine that sells stereotypical Puerto Rican toy figures for fifty cents.

Family Portrait of Boricuas Toys. Courtesy of Josue Pellot.

MJ: It seems like Puerto Rican stereotypes are packaged and sold back to the Puerto Rican community.

JP: Yeah. It sells an identity back to you — puts it in a capsule and sells it to you for fifty cents. I don’t think it was done purposefully. Irresponsibly, yes. But it wasn’t an evil plan. It does, however, set the “other” as a commodity. So then I thought of making my own Boricua figures out of my own family. I started with my Dad. I made my family into “Boricuas” to put it out to people too. Some stereotypes are true, but there are other things that are true too. In part, my family of “Boricuas” created a balance. A kid pulled out my dad after putting in his fifty cents. My dad’s Boricua figure was so normal that the kid seemed confused.

MJ:Is this work in your community that influenced your neon signs?

JP: A lot of my work is based on my community as well as the influence of post-colonialism, both here and on the island. Much of the conversation revolves around commerce. Nowadays, you colonize by invading and taking over the market. Then the people depend on the colonizer.

Josue opens his laptop and with a few clicks brings up an image of the Castillo de San Felipe del Morro, known simply as “El Morro,” a fortress built by Spaniards in San Juan, Puerto Rico. He clicks on another file and an image of a shopping plaza in Chicago with a food store and laundromat appears next to the image of El Morro. Josue points out the castle-like architectural similarity between both buildings.

JP: The neon signs tell a story of when the Spaniards came and conquered the Tainos [the indigenous people of Puerto Rico] and when the Tainos revolted to kill Saucedo [a Spanish Conquistador]. I did research and found images of those events and animated them as templates for neon signs. I just completed my first neon sign. The goal is to put it on these storefront windows. The neon signs in the context of the shopping plaza that resembles the Spanish fortress really drive the point home. At first glance, people may think they’re just ads for beer or whatever. Then they’ll realize they’re depicting events of our history. It’s also a shared history among other people.

Josue stretches out the images of his neon signs on his laptop screen. The Spanish Conquistadors are animated by the blinking of the lights. First blink: A conquistador aims his sword at the back of a Taino man. Second Blink: The sword pierces out through the chest. The second neon piece animates two Taino men drowning Saucedo.

MJ:What led you into this art form?
JP: It was through graffiti that I learned the basics of painting, and it also taught me about public intervention to some degree — it can be in your face, and just as appreciated or unappreciated.

Josue clicks on his laptop until he finds a photo of an installation he did on a highway in Puerto Rico. A flag designed by him, a variation of the Puerto Rican flag with 51 stars, waves in the sky on a streetlight pole. Below it, Josue is surrounded by a police squad.

Temporary Allegiance. Courtesy of Josue Pellot.

JP: I had a loophole permit to do this — I acquired a permit from the city to use a truck with a mechanical arm in the expressway for documentation. I left the part about the 15×25-foot flag out. When the cops showed up and saw the permit, they didn’t know what to make of the flag.

It was a site-specific installation. It was near the site of “Guerra de las Banderas,” [War of the flags], where during a period of time people took down each other’s flags, US and Puerto Rican, back and forth. And it was also near across from a mall, Plaza Las Americas, where a woman from the senate put up a big US flag. The flag I made gained stars — fifty. And I chose that location to put it in context with the “flag war” going on and the mall that happens to have a logo with the sails of the Spaniards Ships. So it comments on two things — the people who colonized Puerto Rico first, and those who colonized Puerto Rico for a second time, the United States.

It also brings back the idea of colonialism through the market. Plaza Las Americas has some of the best selling stores in the US and Puerto Ricans spend a lot of money there.

Boxes. Courtesy of Josue Pellot.

MJ: You have other pieces that seem to divert from your work on identity, like the boxes that resemble Malta logos.

JP: Those pieces are looser, more abstract. I’m also into minimalism and pop art. They lead into other conversations: object vs. painting. But there’s always a common thread throughout the work.

He points to a refrigerator in the corner of the café.

JP: You can buy “Malta” here. The colors from the box pieces came from the Malta labels. It’s a bottled malt beverage that, through our culturally conditioned taste buds, has become a symbol of identity among Latino consumers.

If you ask most Puerto Ricans in the states, “Do you drink Malta?” they’ll say, “Of course I do. I’m Puerto Rican!” They think, “I consume, therefore I am.” This form of identification is mass-produced and up for sale. Those bottles of Malta hold the standard for culture. These pieces and the Malta are both equally commercial and ideological, but they represent two different manifestations, two different scales and amounts of cultural power. Ironically, some Malta is made in the USA.

MJ:What are you working on now, and where are you going with your work?

JP: The neon project is in the works. Later on this year I will be in Bristol, England for a group show. I have a solo exhibition coming up at North Eastern University next year. And in 2010, I’ll have a solo show at the Chicago Cultural Center. This summer I’ll be giving a talk in Humboldt Park coordinated by the CAC and IPRAC. I always want feedback from people in the community. And public projects? They tend to happen randomly.

Technorati Tags: Humboldt Park, Chicago Artist to Watch, Boricua, post-colonialism, public intervention, Puerto Rican flag, colonialism, minimalism, pop art, Malta

Fear and Curating in Chicago

An interview with and by John Brunetti, Director, Alfedena Gallery

What motivated you to become a curator?

JB: Fear.

Seriously?

JB: Yes, seriously. Fear can be a great motivator. It can either hold you back or set you free. I had never intended to be a curator, just as I had never intended to be an art critic. Those were two jobs that grew out of my desire to survive in the arts after I got my MFA in 1987. My original intention was to be a painter. But in the case of my painting career, fear kept me from making that happen, so I decided to start making fear work for me in other ways.

Sounds like the origin issue of a super hero comic.

JB: I lived and breathed Marvel comics as a kid, so I guess I am a student of Stan Lee as well. I always loved that line from Spiderman: “With great power comes great responsibility.” My fear of being the subscription manager at the New Art Examiner for too many years was greater than the fear I had of the blank page, so that is how I started writing art reviews.

Let’s get back to curating. What was the first show you curated, and how did that come about?

JB: In 1999 I was asked to curate a group show for ARC Gallery. At that point I had been writing art criticism for about nine years. I accepted the offer to curate this show because I knew that I had to expand my skills to remain employable in the arts; I was getting older, and Mr. Fear was starting to make occasional visits in the middle of the night.

It doesn’t seem that it would have been that complicated for you to put on a show.

JB: Well, you have to remember that as a critic I had seen my share of poorly realized group shows, and I didn’t want to follow in that pattern. Moreover, writing by its nature is a very solitary endeavor, while curating — good curating — is a collaborative art that embraces artists, breathing people. The years of writing gave me access to many artists to consider for the show, so that taught me an invaluable lesson: See and be aware of as many artists as possible, and talk to these people, listen to these people, look these people in the eyes. Visit their studios not only to see what they are working on now, but the direction in which their work is going. Most shows are planned one or two years in advance, so it helps to anticipate where an artist is going with his or her work. From that point on I started to keep a little black book, not to get dates, but to be able to pick up the phone and make a show happen.

You mentioned earlier that you saw many poorly realized group shows. What did you mean by that, and how did you avoid that yourself?

JB: I was always seeing group shows through the lens of writing criticism. A success to me was when the show conveyed something more than the sum of its parts. This means, Do the works in the show communicate with each other as much as they do the viewer? Is there a compelling dialogue going on? A good group show should echo a good dinner party where overlapping conversations reveal more about the guests than they realize.

So who is your audience as a curator — the critics? the public? artists?

JB: When I worked for the Evanston Art Center, I was conscious of curating shows that provided many different entry points to diverse audiences that ranged from children to those more familiar with contemporary art. This was central to the art center’s mission. I found a way to strike a balance by showing work that could be interpreted through formal elements as well as conceptual ideas. A large part of making this happen was listening to the needs of their executive director, Alan Leder, and earlier Peter Gordon, and the exhibitions committee. To be successful as a curator you should have a strong sense of the institution you work for and its audience.

Any fears remaining?

JB: Until the next show goes up, I always fear the empty white cube of the gallery.

Technorati Tags: Curating, art criticism

Today, Richard and I went to Artropolis at the Merchandise Mart about 11 a.m. and left about 2:30 p.m. There are 5 concurrent shows under one roof.

Art Chicago (12th floor) — art in a gallery atmosphere featuring works appealing to curators and collectors

NEXT (7th floor) — an invitational exhibition of international contemporary emerging art focusing on single artists or special projects

The Merchandise Mart International Antiques Fair (south side of the 8th floor)

The Artist Project (north side of 8th floor) — work of independent artists

The Intuit Show (northwest corner of the 8th floor) — folk and outsider art

We estimated we walked about 5 miles at The Artist Project, part of Intuit, Next, and part of Art Chicago. We saw some of our friends at The Artist Project, including Hiroshi Ariyama, Dawn Brennan, Karen Gubitz, Pamela Johnson, Deborah Maris Lader, Hugh Musick, and Casey Ann Wasniewski.

Both of us really enjoyed Next, which had very interesting, varied and spectacular art. We stopped by Stux Gallery, NY, which features several emerging artists, including Anna Joelsdottir and Don Porcella. Walsh Gallery, Chicago, had an interactive “play and record your own performance installation,” using records in a tree-like sculpture. At Western Exhibitions, Chicago, our friends Dutes Miller and Stan Shellabarger, performed their crochet installation project and we saw their “butter” books (page after page of butter wrappers). Three artists I liked at Next: Michael Velliquette (DCKT, NY) showed his playfulness with fanciful paper collages of dreamlike creatures and monsters; Dana Melamed (Priska C. Juschka Fine Art) expertly used transparency film printing waste, acrylic and charcoal on paper to create 3D phantasmagorical paintings; Aidas Bareitis (Leo Koening, NY) used charcoal pencil on paper to create spontaneous portraits and landscapes with seemingly scratchy brilliance.

Jane Fulton Alt participates in her own installation

Craig Anderson plays with his sculptured paintings

Hiroshi Ariyama with his new limited edition screenprints

Dawn Brennan and her hero

Karen Gubitz creates large sculptures from wood and natural materials

Anna Joelsdottir displays her new work in mylar and ink.
Permission: Stux Gallery, NY.

Pamela Johnson paints foods we are addicted to

Deborah Maris Lader excels at tiny print works

Hugh Musick incorporates stories with his collages

Don Porcella creates fantastic things with pipe cleaners.
Permission: Stux Gallery, NY.

You can’t help but notice Dutes Miller and Stan Shellabarger
crocheting their pink tube. Permission: Western Exhibitions, Chicago.

What a great idea Dutes and Stan. Butter books.
Permission: Western Exhibitions, Chicago.

Casey Ann Wasniewski creates sculptures from embroidered fiber

Technorati Tags: Artropolis

ArtStyle: What’s your background in music?

Daniel Godston (DG): My parents brought my brothers and me up in a musical home. They both played music. My mom played the piano and my dad would play the guitar, and both of my parents always loved to sing. I took piano lessons when I was in 4th grade, and then I started playing the trumpet when I was in 5th grade. My parents encouraged me to take trumpet lessons. Then like a lot of teenagers I got into rock and roll, and I had some rock bands in Houston, and later in Pittsburgh. One of my bands in high school was called Lodged in Your Mind. We played original songs and covers of songs by the Police, Talking Heads, B-52′s, R.E.M., and The Jam.

Louis Armstrong

ArtStyle: Why did you pick the trumpet as an instrument?

DG: I love the trumpet, and I like to play other horns such as the pocket trumpet, slumpet (slide trumpet), flugelhorn, and cornet. The first time I heard Louis Armstrong‘s music it blew my mind. I first heard one of those “greatest hits” compilations, but then when I listened to the Hot Five‘s and Hot Seven‘s recordings — incidentally recorded here in Chicago in the mid-1920s — that was it. When I was in 5th grade I listened to Chuck Mangione‘s Feels So Good, but later in high school and in college I started to listen to the truly great masters of the instrument — Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Lee Morgan, Clifford Brown, Bix Beiderbecke, and others.

ArtStyle: How did you create your trio?

DG: Ways & Means is one of my projects. Joel Wanek (upright bass, percussion) and Jayve Montgomery (saxophones, percussion, electronic instruments) are very talented musicians. We have performed and recorded together; we all have a common interest in creative music, jazz, world music, an open approach to the arts. I have also worked with other musicians who live here in Chicago and elsewhere, such as Paul Hartsaw, Brahm Fetterman, Mars Williams, Bill MacKay, Clifton Hyde, Daniele Cavallanti, Tiziano Tononi, Jim Ryan, Eric Glick Rieman, Douglas Ewart, Mankwe Ndosi, Steve Hirsh, and others.

Also, I have an interest in combining music with other art forms such as poetry. As a musician I have had the honor of working with these dynamic poets — Ed Roberson, Lisa Hemminger, Toni Asante Lightfoot, Michael C. Watson, and others.

ArtStyle: Do you play professionally?

DG: Yes, but often the kind of music I like to play doesn’t really pay much money. It’s spiritually, emotionally and intellectually rewarding though, which is important. I’m involved with a collective that runs a live music and performing arts space. It’s called Brown Rice, after the Don Cherry record. It’s up in Albany Park, and you can check out our calendar of events at www.brownricemusic.org.

ArtStyle: What type of music do you play?

DG: I play jazz and improvised music. World music is a big component of the music I play, that is, I like music from Asia, South America, Africa, and other places.

Last weekend I was in New York, did a recording with a quintet. If that turns out all right, it might be released.

ArtStyle: Do you compose your own music?

DG: Yes, I do compose my own music. Some compositions are done with standard musical notation, but other compositions are graphic scores.

ArtStyle: What do you think about the music scene in Chicago?

DG: I think the music scene here is fantastic. There are so many opportunities for amazing shows. Chicago has amazing festivals — the Chicago Jazz Festival, Umbrella Music Festival, and World Music Festival are several. Two years ago I founded Chicago Calling, an arts festival that has great music.

ArtStyle: When did you start writing poetry?

DG: I started writing poetry about 20 years ago. I studied poetry as an undergraduate, when I was at West Virginia Wesleyan College, and then when I was at the University of Michigan. Then I got an MFA in Creative Writing at Mills College. My poetry has been published in magazines, in online journals, and in several chapbooks.

ArtStyle: What other activities are you involved in?

My brothers and I are working on the Mingus Awareness Project 2, which will happen at the Velvet Lounge on May 7th. The purposes of MAP are to celebrate the life and music of Charles Mingus, to raise awareness about ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease), and to raise money for the Les Turner ALS Foundation. Two years ago my mom died of ALS, and that’s the disease that killed Mingus.

I’m also editing a book of poetry which is based on collaborations that happened last year in Chicago, as part of the Forth Sound Back event I curated, as part of the Red Rover Reading series, which are readings that play with reading.

Technorati Tags: trumpet, Ways & Means, poetry, jazz, world music, Louis Armstrong, Chuck Mangione, Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Lee Morgan, Clifford Brown, Bix Beiderbecke, Chicago Jazz Festival, Charles Mingus

She recently juried the Drawing on Experience show at Woman Made Gallery, 685 North Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago. The exhibition is June 27 through July 24, 2008, with an opening reception on June 27th from 6 to 9 p.m.

Nancy Charak. Field No. 1077. 2007. Oil, pencil on linen canvas,
height 30″ x 40″.

ArtStyle: You received your MFA in 1979 but describe yourself as an emerging artist. Why?

Nancy Charak (NC): My solo exhibit at the ARC Gallery in December, 2006, was titled Re-Emergence because I hadn’t made or exhibited art in any serious manner since I completed my MFA requirements. I dumped the slides and a totally forgettable 14-page thesis to complete the graduate school requirements and then just plain ran away. I had collected so many teaching job rejection letters from colleges and universities that the moment of truth was when I realized I had stuffed them into two three-ring binders all alphabetized and notated. I was married then and that had turned sour, so I dealt with that. I desperately wanted and needed to earn a decent living, so I went into a phase of making a career out of searching for a career. I worked in printing plants, did clerical temp work, worked for a vinyl sign-maker, taught ESL to adults, and somewhere else along the line learned and taught myself how to work with documents and spreadsheets. (Good thing they made us take typing in the seventh grade.) I worked retail, sold cameras, and made copies at Kinko’s.

ArtStyle: When did you start doing art again?

NC: It’s hard to pin down the exact moment when I realized that I needed to make art again. There were so many questions I needed answered. I bought some supplies — watercolor paper, the big set of Prismacolors, and oil paints — and set a goal of making 100 paintings in a summer, and thinking that by the end of the 100th painting, I’ll know if I’m an artist again. I got to 73, but I knew somewhere around 25. Clearly it was some part of the aging process, some realization that working for a living is just that — it doesn’t define you as a person, but what you achieve in the rest of your life matters.

In the years between graduate school and re-emergence, I fulfilled one of my earliest ambitions to become a traveler. I looked at art in New York and Los Angeles in the 80’s, then overseas, in London, Berlin, Amsterdam, and Sao Paulo. I now look at art constantly on the web. Part of the “re-emergence” thing was the unlearning of what I’d done in graduate school, what things were in my head from my professors, and learning how to trust myself and my own artistic reactions.

Nancy Charak. No. 167, Detail. 2007. Pencil, Prismacolor pencil on
black 90# Stonehenge paper, height 22″ x 30″.

ArtStyle: The lines of your drawings are delicate — they suggest something web-like and fragile. Yet, there is a ritualistic quality to the repetition of the same precise line that looks at once spontaneous and controlled. What are you trying to achieve?

NC: I think my drawing is about the movement of my arm and hand across the paper or board. I try not to over-think my drawing process; at times it’s almost an algorithmic process, a simple programmatic recipe where I say to myself something like, Make these lines with this 9H pencil until the point goes dull. I have never been a sketcher, and I jump right into or rather “onto” the real thing, right onto the surface with some kind of a mark that I react to.

ArtStyle: From a distance, your drawings look deceivingly simple. But they are comprised of thread-like, gestural network of lines. This quality of your images draws the viewer closer to the work, as if to stop, engage and investigate. Is this why you say in your statement that your “function as an artist is not to tell the truth; it is to captivate viewers for as long as I can hold their attention”?

NC: Part of the reason I say that my function as an artist is not to tell the truth is a gut reaction to hundreds of artist’s statements that I’ve read everywhere, wherein they say something like “my work represents a search for the truth” or some other philosophical, sociological, political blather, dropping words in like truth, paradigm, epiphany, ontology. It’s just way too pretentious and grandiose to me. I make paintings and drawings. I don’t explicate the truth. Let’s leave that to the theologians.

And maybe another reason is that I really and truly want my viewers to look at my work with as few preconceptions as possible. They are objects that might have something to say but it won’t be in words.

Nancy Charak. No. 163. 2007. Pencil on black 90# Stonehenge paper,
height 22″ x 30″.

ArtStyle: Could you talk about the relationship between your paintings and drawings?

NC: After spending a lot of mental time over the past year — researching, quizzing my fellow artists and thinking about what is a drawing, about whether or not there are any absolute boundaries, what the parameters are, and having finished the jurying — I now realize that it really doesn’t matter to me in the making of my own work. I make what I make and it doesn’t matter whether they are called drawings or paintings. I realize that I use the two terms interchangeably, often referring to the same artwork at different times with either.

So, at the end of this process, the definition of a drawing matters only in a curatorial sense or in an academic, art-historical, or critical sense. I will use whatever tool or method that fits what I need to do at the moment. That said, on the whole, what I make are drawings, whether they’re on paper, board, or canvas.

Nancy Charak. Layers of Meaning. 2007.
Tarlatan cloth, oil, thread, embroidery floss on
acrylic sized raw linen, height 60″ x 24″.

ArtStyle: What brings you to your studio every evening?

NC: There’s a difference between being an artist and making art. I’m much happier now that I’ve figured out the difference, and I’m making better art now than I ever did when I was younger. Being an artist is a lifestyle, tied to that bohemian “I gotta suffer for my art thing” idea. I’d rather worry about making art and not about being an artist. I go to my studio because I like to go there; it’s a discipline. I tell my younger visitors, You have to go to your studio, to your art-place and just be there on a regular basis, even if you don’t do anything but sweep the floor or sit in your chair reading a book; you’re in your creative space. That goes back to one of my things — quantity versus quality. I think a lot of artists would be better and more creative if they stopped worrying about quality and just made as much art as they could. I’m a fan of “don’t think, just do” and something will happen. It does for me. It’s sort of like when you start to meditate, and you get into that relaxed posture and try to clear your mind, and then you realize that your mind is going “crackers.” When I’m working on my drawings, paintings, I’m making a million decisions, but I’m not thinking hard, and I’m just letting my mind go and my hand follows.

Nancy Charak’s Studio. Photo: Mirjana Ugrinov.

ArtStyle: You said that you spend a lot of time looking at other artists’ work. Who inspires you?

NC: Clearly, Agnes Martin and Joan Mitchell — for the purity of their thought and action on the canvas — Linda Karshan, Sandra Blow, Vija Celmins, Nancy Riegelman, and Katherina Grosse, to name just the women. Whether what they do is lyrical, expository or just plain brash, to my way of thinking, they are all pure abstract expressionists who make marks, lines, shapes, colors on paper, canvas, even buildings. They say to us, “Here look at this, make of it what you will.” I also spend time looking at images from Mars and Saturn, and I subscribe to emails from NASA.

ArtStyle: What is your definition of drawing?

NC: There are a lot of definitions of what is drawing versus painting. One, based on the philosophical work of Walter Benjamin, is that the graphic line can only exist against the background of the substrate, wherein painting obscures the background (which places watercolor and pastel in the middle of that theoretical continuum). My thought is that drawing is the actual placement directly onto a substrate by the actual hand of the artist with a tool that preferably has a hard nib that is unerasable or incapable of being removed. Note that for the Woman Made show I didn’t specify a hard-nibbed tool, which would allow for drawing with a brush, but drawing must be primary and no printmaking, monotypes, or photographs.

I also think there’s a cultural bias towards thinking of drawing as a prelude to painting, that it’s a plan or blueprint for a final more substantial painting or sculpture. The word “drawing” also suggests fragility, impermanence and delicacy. It shouldn’t be, but that’s the bias.

Nancy Charak. No. 892. 2005. Oil wash, pencil, Prismacolor on 140#
Arches watercolor paper, height 22″ x 30″.

ArtStyle: How do you feel about your role as a juror of the Drawing on Experience show, and is it difficult to jury other artists’ work?

NC: I don’t find it difficult to make opinions about other artists’ work. What’s sometimes difficult is keeping my mouth shut so I don’t say something negative and crush a fellow artist’s ambition or worse — sound and feel gossipy. That’s the one bad thing about the jurying process is that there’s rejection built in. But, that’s something that has to be built into the artist’s psyche: you’re going to be rejected, and you can’t avoid it. And you know, you can’t avoid it in the rest of life either. That’s my motto by the way: they can’t reject you if you don’t apply.

ArtStyle: What are you working on now and are you preparing for any upcoming shows?

NC: I will have work at The University Center Gallery at the University of Montana, Missoula, May 1st to May 31st. Then of course both shows at Woman Made: my own exhibit, which will be downstairs, and then upstairs, Drawing on Experience. And then in the fall, for Chicago Artists Month, there’ll be another ArtWalk under the auspices of the ArtWalk Ravenswood organization at the 1800 Cornelia Building.

Contact Nancy Charak at rounder@rounderstudio.com.

Technorati Tags: drawings, artist’s statements, paintings, Agnes Martin, Joan Mitchell, Sandra Blow, Vija Celmins, abstract expressionists, Walter Benjamin, Woman Made, ArtWalk

As some of you know, I will be taking a leave for a month after April for recuperation, some R&R, and to work on my children’s book. During the interim, we will be informally posting and uploading images at Flickr.com, a photo sharing site, under the name ArtStyle Blog Group. The website is www.flickr.com/groups/artstylebloggroup.

Thanks again, and we hope you visit our Flickr.com site.

Amy Rudberg

ArtStyle: When did the “intellectual” component of your work begin to develop in your art?

Alan Lerner (AL): In the 1970s, as an undergrad, I started making drawings of actions I would fantasize about but not necessarily accomplish. Many of these planned actions would involve bad manners and behavior on the group level, leaving behind evidence in the form of dirty suburban interiors as a comment on the sterility and purity of the impossibly neurotic standards of daily life. I worked in ceramics for many years, and also designed and built furniture. These activities helped form my ideas of how objects function as art separate from the functional craft object. At the time I did a stint at security at the MCA and used the library there to help form my early experiences as an artist.

Alan Lerner. An Ocean Of Drink. Acrylic clipboards, paper,
screenprint ink, neoprene, 15’ x 15’.

ArtStyle: Where does your personal meaning show up in your work?

AL: I believe artists choose and create the contexts in which they operate in the world around them. I enjoyed art history very much as a study of artists’ roles in the times and strata of society in which they worked. My work is personal in that I am an individual in the large set of individuals who make up a society. Everything is personal in that each individual experiences the world differently through their years of experience that color their reactions to the group.

Examples of these conceptual meanings can be seen in my installation An Ocean of Drink. The associations of meanings and objects define my artwork, which can be diagnosed like diagnosing a person. Rather than being clear, the clip boards are screen printed and displayed with white paper underneath them. The clear plastic clip boards could be glass on a framed drawing or symbolize the process of looking through something or a human to see the internal makeup and psyche.

The conflict of nature and culture is a common theme in my artwork. An obvious symbol of drinking, the bottle could represent alcoholism and dysfunction. The screen printed blue orbs symbolize water and the ocean, which is an image of the ideal. And the white paper under the clipboards could also be seen as the thinnest form of a pedestal for displaying the sculptural work on the floor. In the background, a soft inflated clock functions as a reference to the subjective experience of time, and as a symbol for a bloated, abused self.

Alan Lerner. Fashion / Fascist. Screenprinting ink on
Stonehenge, 30” x 22”.

ArtStyle: Could you describe the dichotomy of fashion and the military in your screen printing?

AL: Fashion / Fascist is a still life composition, with the the background being the screen printed interior of a room with ornate patterned flocked wallpaper, a hanging chandelier, designer bag, and designer perfume bottle. The perfume container, with its form exalting a supreme leader, is based on fascist architecture. The handbag is stylized from high fashion that came out of Italy from the Fascist movement and leading up to and during World War II. “IL Duce” Benito Mussolini, with his ubiquitous image, covers the designer bag much like the Gucci icon or the Luis Vuitton bag does in high-end fashion globally today.

Alan Lerner. We Will Don Hats and Smite Them. Aluminum,
screenprinting ink, velvet rope, inkjet prints, gold rope, shelf
with aluminum molding, 7’ x 4’ x 6”.

ArtStyle: Could you give me an example of how your installation sculptural pieces are meant to be read by the pubic?

AL: My installation pieces are sculptural objects and images that are about the use of material and associations of the material to the objects. In We Will Don Hats and Smite Them, a velvet theater rope symbolizes authority and crowd control. A crowd is queued up until the rope opens for them to pass through. This is a manipulation of human behavior and is generally an accepted form of manipulation. The screen-printed images of red and white drum majors leading a parade in a civic ritual function much like the military parade as a demonstration of military might and pride, offering hubris as a means of identification with the nationalist urge. There is a farce being portrayed with the men clad in suits marching to the beat without drums. Like the emperor with no clothes, a symbol of our nation’s perverted and abusive use of power, torture and relating to George Bush‘s quotes of “Let’s roll” and “Bring it on,” which are statements for the invitation of mayhem. On the shelf above are paper mock-ups of naval military hats made from the images of the people murdered by war and terror. Worn sideways, they also refer to Napoleon and the impulse of imperialism, or expansion of the national ego.

Alan Lerner. Gurney of Discomfort. Steel, wood, vinyl, upholstery
buttons, wheels, 40” x 84” x 16”.

ArtStyle: How did you construct this piece Gurney of Discomfort, and what does it mean?

AL: I used upholstered furniture on a metal stand with wheels akin to a gurney that moves through a hospital. It is about the idea of treatment and cure, but it is also a critique of Western medical and psychiatric treatment. The V-shape symbolizes a double-edged blade, a mold of victory, or the peace sign. The form references the dichotomy of Western and Eastern concepts of healing. As a part of the technical work of construction of the piece, I checked out books from the library and taught myself how to upholster. To make the piece convincing as a piece of furniture, I also welded the metal frames, which are telescoping in length from smaller to larger, and can be custom fitted to the individual, even though it is a one-size-fits-all mattress.

Alan Lerner may be contacted at albomatic@gmail.com.

Technorati Tags: musician, screen printer, conceptual artist, street art, installation, sculptural, still life, furniture

Clue #2: Some crowns bestowed

Clue #3: Verdigris inky rubric

Show Answer ▼

Statue of Greene Vardiman Black, Father of Modern Dentistry in Lincoln Park.