February (First Friday)

Scott: I'm afraid that February's first Friday only confirmed for me the critiques from our first conversation about Oakland Art Murmur. But (and I think you feel this way too) the last thing I want is to discourage people from attending the Art Murmur events.

There's a Dave Hickey essay, "Romancing the Looky-Loos" in which he draws a subtle, but significant, line between spectators and participants: "Thus while spectators must be lured, participants just appear, looking for that new thing--the thing they always wanted to see--or the old thing that might be seen anew--and having seen it, they seek to invest that thing with new value. They do this simply by showing up; they do it with their body language and casual conversation, with their written commentary, if they are so inclined, and their disposable income, if it falls to hand".

It is in this spirit that I look to be surprised and make my commentary. So when I say that February's First Friday was more underwhelming than January's it's meant as encouragement--because I believe the spaces involved are capable of presenting stronger work, surprising me even. The potential is almost palpable and to me this is what's most compelling about the emerging Oakland art scene right now--it's fertile ground for experimentation from which something new can arise. Given that only two of the galleries among the eight participating in Art Murmur are commercial endeavors it seems only natural that they would be taking more risks in regard to what a gallery is and does.

For me the big question is: why aren't they?

Joseph: As predicted, my own sentiments run parallel to your hope that our reflections will not dissuade new visitors to the Art Murmur (or discourage participants). Also in parallel, I can't avoid saying that despite the apparent rise in attendance and the party-like atmosphere that spilled out onto the sidewalks, the artwork itself, the point of all this, was in decline. Because the last thing I want is to make a sort of palimpsest of generalizations, I'll try to account for at least the difference in my impressions between the two months worth of exhibitions.

Could it be the diffusion of energy? I want to take into consideration the fact that the February rounds included the addition of the new Esteban Sabar Gallery, 21 Grand's open doors (they were closed in January), and our first visit to Boontling and Auto Galleries (we missed them last time). While the Sabar gallery hasn't officially been folded into the murmur, the pack-those-walls-with-product attitude seemed to color the predominantly scrappy, crafty aesthetic charm of the other eight spaces. I also wonder if the increase in intake (i.e. seeing more than last month) resulted in a fragmented, deflated, experience. The charm of walking from space to space as corrupted by the drive several blocks down Telegraph - away from the condensed energy of Telegraph and Grand. After all, as I said in our last round of correspondence, the energy itself was what held me.

I wonder too about the aspect of investment. If it were just one exhibition in consideration rather than nine, would we invest ourselves in the back story of the works on view more fully? Would we ask questions and construct our own constellation of meaning? After all, as Marcel Duchamp says, the creative act is completed by the the viewer. I think perhaps the compressed time experience of the First Friday event, and the roaming requirements result in a somewhat superficial registration, a tourist glance. Maybe all the burden shouldn't rest on the galleries but on the structure of the murmur itself, or on our willingness (or lack thereof) to invest in the individual shows.

In considering your question, I'm reminded of another Duchamp quote I once found on the internet: "I don't believe in art. I believe in artists." It could be that, in this case at least, the art is not the point. Perhaps the art should be considered the byproduct of a cluster of relationships, a social outcome. Spectators get to hang out with participants (of a variety of involvement and intent) and celebrate their culture.

Scott: I think we share a kind of even-handed temperament when it comes to offering criticism--the ability to empathize or see things from multiple perspectives. A flip-flopper's mind? Maybe. I have had similar thoughts regarding Art Murmur's reason for being, also wondered if I was missing the point. But I doubt any of the individual artists think of their work as secondary to the event. Perhaps tangential to it, but distinct and significant in an of itself.

Of course this is a bit presumptuous just as supposing the art to be secondary, although I would say that openings always foreground social relationships. And I agree, our attempt to "take it all in" probably did contribute to a rather diffuse experience. As a testament to this point I can think of some exhibits from the recent past (when I wasn't trying to see everything) that I did find compelling: Taro Hattori's clear plastic automatic rifles at Rock, Paper, Scissors; Kevin Flagel's billboard-sized "Fuck Bush" at Ego Park; Jim Goldthorpe's paintings of hunting scenes at 21 Grand...At this point it seems like a matter of consistency on the part of the galleries and persistence on the part of participants. I for one plan to continue going to these galleries looking to be surprised.

Joseph: You make a good point about the artists' hopes for primary status. I assume that if any particular work demanded our attention it would have drawn this "review" into focus, despite our overall tendency toward a sort of meta approach. With that in mind I'd like to zoom in a notch (as you have done) and put in a plug for Ego Park. Although its programming is idiosyncratic and identity left undefined, its experimental endeavors and laboratory flavor make it stand out from the underdog clubhouse sensibility of the rest. As my friend PJ surmised, if Ego Park were the average and there were a few spaces better and a few worse, the Oakland scene would be quite an interesting place.

While I don't want to counter my reflections about the potential social outcome of art in the Oakland First Fridays event, I would like to reaffirm my hope that the art in at least one of these spaces can rise above the murmur to make itself heard (and ultimately have something to say). Until then we can enjoy the conviviality of the crowds wandering the streets.

Claim the World of Art as Our Domain

The current emblem of international art in print, widely known as an advantageous start-up by a small milieu of individuals in San Francisco in 1963 was not a traditional topic for an annual juried exhibition at Pro Arts, a member supported non profit gallery located in Oakland's Jack London Square.

Curator Christian Frock and guest juror Michael Wilson, a current associate editor for Artforum, concentrated efforts of historical nature, regional styles, and the trials of art world accessibility via the culturally constricted Bay Area region for the aptly titled Claim the World of Art as Our Domain.

When dealing in the history of art in the Bay Area specifically, the realities are as telling as they are revealing: the San Francisco of Artforum's 1963 founding was a very different place for artists than that of 2006. Institutional support for the emerging artist was building, Bay Area art movements and styles were drawing attention nationally, and Artforum's founding was in perfect sync with a climate that was on a constant upswing through the early 1980s. The fast forward to the Bay Area art world of 2006 is not as kind, leaving the idealism of Claim the World of Art as Our Domain not as optimistic as it is fantastical.

The conquest for Wilson to expand on an ongoing regional debate in Bay Area art while walking a line that scopes Wilson's New York experience forced atop a historical remnant of Artforum's original founding mantra was of curious positioning. Wilson's assertion of the visually apparent trap of the hermetic work submitted for inclusion assessed the juried topic dead on: has the Bay Area ever claimed the world of art as its own domain, or has an exclusivity of regional tendencies helped coin a type-casted aesthetical wash that has superseded the need to expand a dialogue into one of a more global scope? Also of note is the fact that most working artists in the Bay Area region today are so by specific intention, not by destitution. This particular understanding of working artists in the Bay Area is not inherent or so obviously observant for critics working outside the region.

The logistics of assessing a remnant of the past (some 43 years later) via a juried membership exhibition lead to an uncomfortable artificiality showcasing a disoriented contemporary Bay Area. From the tightly supposed aesthetics of Tim Sullivan's personal prop C-Print ventures, to the clever mechanics of Bryan Yerian's "Line Drawing" device, Claim the World of Art as Our Domain ended up wearing the loud marker of a pre fabricated and constructed conquest. The final selection consisting of twenty-two works by eleven artists made Wilson's concession clear: the final selected would represent a conservatively defined and barren show of Bay Area artists.

Oakland photographer Uri Korn's "Six Angels in East Oakland", a black and white print of six Oakland Hell's Angels tombstones connected a historical faction with rebel reality while placed among other more playful and light selections including Scotty Enderle's "Prism" (multi colored streamers) and "Pendulum" a black glass plated floor level disco ball. Possibly the most engaging part of the juried exhibition lain in the three page Q&A between Frock and Wilson displaying a broad critical dialogue that is certainly missing from most juried exhibitions in the Bay Area. Alas, a perfect show of scope and space in complete opposition to one another evolved as the several restrictions did not allow for a wide enough survey for the dialogue to surpass the printed dialogue between Frock and Wilson.

Though its measurement and appeal may be confused with its clashing event and location, Claim the World of Art as Our Domain was not a wasteful exhibition: positioning a juried show on the basis of a venture never realized, while restricting a savvy Artforum editor to a specific membership pool of a few hundreds tops, and housing such a concentrated effort in a non profit showcase gallery, equivocated to a complex challenge. With its multifaceted set of intricacies regarding history, location, realities, and varied art professionals, such a complicated task was what the Bay Area needed to get the critical dialogue started proving that even if the exhibition went unnoticed due to location, on ambition alone, Frock is a genius.

Uri Korn, 'Six Angels In East Oakland', image courtesy of Pro Arts Gallery

Cronyism

Entering Misson 17 gallery is mazelike, first a coded door, up a freight elevator, down a red brick wall hallway then a short wait for an attendant to let me in. The experience of access was in sharp contrast to my tour an hour earlier at the 49 Geary art complex where everything is quite obvious.

The first thing I noticed in the bright sunny gallery was a tower of vintage athletic prize trophies dominating the floor of the room, a piece by Packard Jennings called “Empire” 2003. These trophies were found at the dump; despite being scavenged they emitted a distinct aura of struggle and competition even in their precarious shabbiness.

In conversation with this accumulation of prizes is an installation piece by Paz de la Calzada. She crafted an impressive pair of legs out of packing tape that translucently dance out of the wall; they sport a well traveled pair of gold spray painted dancing shoes. This piece declares, “All that glitters is not gold.”

Next I allowed myself to feel weird and strange inside as I watched familiar faces from the art community smear a pearlescent cream over one another’s face in an uncomfortable loving manner in Jennifer Woffards video “Inappropriate.” This piece catapulted me into the sensation that this was not merely an art show but a creative deviation of a secret self- help group masquerading as artists.

In the info art tradition, attached to the wall was a line up of postings of particular talents and services to be employed by individual artists followed by business cards so you may in fact seek their talents. The services range from personal hipster shopper, fine dining while listening to metal, game playing, driving directions and interestingly enough, conflict resolution by an artist who is formally trained in non-denominational spiritual studies. The headhunters of this enterprise are Virginia White and Rebecca Millsop.

In this show there is a trend or willingness to help in reality or with in the message of content, as with a wooden board wall piece covered with condoms that form a design that I thought looked like the ghost from Pac-Man but I later figured out was actually the Pope. This is hopeful considering the title of the show is “Cronyism” curated by Emily Sevier and Clark Buckner.

My question is where did the romantic notion of the isolated misanthropic artist go? My question was answered by Cathie Davies Vinyl Crest named “Transactional Epiphany” depicting two hands in the process of clasping while one holds a lethal scorpion that is concealed to the other. The crest states, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” This is something we can all relate to weather you are a cured misanthrope or not.

I left this show with a sense of relief at the interest all of these artists have in other things besides the manufacturing of hard sellable objects, In fact it was a mini convention of the other assets of their beings that make them capable artists and comrades in the navigation of the art world, as we know it or... just plain old life.

Exhibition dates: January 20th- February 25th, 2006

http://www.mission17.com

Jumping Arracheras

Upon attempting to summarize MarcelayGina (Marcela&Gina), what initially popped in my mind was ‘Sweet debutantes with a penchant for violence’. They probably aren’t debutantes (despite the gold framed image of them in pink satin dresses in a Victorian era room on the left wall of the gallery), and their ‘penchant’ is probably more of an interest in violence than a like of it.

The fact that they hail from Mexico City greatly influences the context of their work dealing with danger, and whether or not it has directed meaning and purpose. This is a very tricky area, how much should a work be dictated by where it is from? Though I debate with myself the necessity of such clear reference, I also feel that they are not just some 18-year-old undergraduate student swallowing bullets for attention (yes, this happened, and probably has across the nation in undergraduate programs…but I wont mention names because I don’t belive they deserve the press). My father lived in Mexico City for several years, and I can from first hand experience say that it is probably the closest many people will come to seeing pandemonium – a place that is chaotic/beautiful/overwhelming/dangerous---an entire plethora of possibilities that could be used as a basis for cultural critique within a work of art.

Much of the work within this exhibit seemed to be along the lines of documentative photos and video pieces dealing with illegal smuggling, bribing, money laundering, etc., many core issues relevant in Mexican society; as well as containing several works that seemed to ooze sarcastic sweetness of two ladies often in pink. The pieces I liked best were not most obvious illustrative ones dealing with these themes (such as the one where money was literally laundered) but the ones that had a more vague sense of danger, or curiosity mixed with danger. Two pieces in particular caught my extended attention: ‘Ecko, don’t talk to me while I am in the kitchen’ – consisting of several pressure cookers set to explode with colored water. Though I heard the rumor of danger, they looked very passive (or lovely and harmless) letting out bits of steam from polished chrome - as far as I know they have yet to explode, which may be a good reason to take a quick peek at Queens for the possibility of chaos. ‘8 de los 28 objetos para aniquilar a alguien/8 out of the 28 objects to annihilate someone’ - the cataloguing of items the artists found in San Francisco that could be used to inflict harm, a slightly humorous display of objects with descriptions in text form to the right of the light box, including: ‘d. A spoon – can be used to throw boiling liquids in small doses distractedly’ ‘f. A wedding ring – thing that ties a person to someone else’s willing’

Images courtesy of Bob Linder

The two sides of MarcelayGina seem to be the ‘debutant sweetness’ versus the ‘illegal activists’ – maybe they are dealing with a very directed idea of dualisms, or maybe they are sweet debutants gone bad. Sweet girls being bad will usually please a few of us. Fortunately, MarcelayGina took some pieces farther than that for others of us.

Exhibition runs January 20th-Feb.18th 2006

http://www.queensnailsannex.com

1871©

Last week the Exploratorium presented Reconsidered Material. The opening night was peppered with one-night performances and material experiments by a wide range of artists. The evening held an an air of honesty as these new material configurations provoked groups of onlookers to collectively experience an evening of perceptual adventures.

image provided by Mauricio Ancalmo

One particular highlight was Mauricio Ancalmo's 1871©. Within a small theater, a 16mm film projector, black leader film loop and a sewing machine mesmerized a roomful of people for little under an hour. The film loop was lead through the projector, up to a hook on the ceiling, and under the foot of the sewing machine such that the needle punctured holes into the film allowing spots of light to hit the screen as they passed by the lamp on the projector. As the sewing machine diligently deconstructed the film, it simultaneously constructed an image projected on the screen. This deconstruction invoked a sense of commitment in the audience. As the film grew weaker, the attention of the audience and the light pouring through the growing number of holes on the film intensified- a collective anticipation of the collapse of the material mounted, as this would also represent the end of an intensely engaging performance.

Mauricio Ancalmo describes his piece as, "Film loop represents cyclical time while the needle of the sewing machine punctures holes continuously deconstructing the film and simultaneously constructing the image projected. The film becomes an artifact for this performance/sound installation that tells a similar story of dark versus light."

I am not sure if the piece has any reference to Thomas Edison's 1871 patent #: 121601: Machinery for Perforating Paper for Telegraph, but Mauricio definitely inscribed a memory in many people's mind on the evening of February 3, 2006.

Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh

During the Taliban rule in Afghanistan, large carved Buddhist sculptures on cliff walls were desecrated. Photos documenting the Buddhas before and after their destruction were featured in the exhibit Afghanistan: A Timeless History that I saw at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston in 2002. The exhibition was introduced with a statement and photo of first Lady Laura Bush presenting how the US Invasion and Presence in Afghanistan has allowed the saving and protection of many more of this culture's works. Leap ahead to spring 2003 when the Iraq National Museum was left unguarded by US Troops after the invasion of Iraq, holding one-of-a-kind relics from the origins of civilization completely destroyed or taken by looters. Think of continuous character desecration in the United States with McCarthyism; Democratic and Republican ad campaigns; and the destruction of an individual's or social group's public image for the purpose of control and regaining power. Those in power have the option to rewrite history as they see fit. Howard Zinn references this within The People's History of the United States and the exhibition Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh, shows some examples of this centuries before Christ.

Relevant to current events, the new De Young Museum kicks off its first exhibition with Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh, organized by the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco and The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York which will also travel to the Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, TX. The show according to the De Young "highlights the art created during the glorious reign of the female pharaoh Hatshepsut, who shared Egypt's throne for nearly two decades in the early New Kingdom as senior co-ruler with her nephew, Thutmose III." Some sources suggest Hatshepsut possibly used force to take the throne from her nephew Thutmose III, but this has never been completely confirmed. Regardless, all images of Hatshepsut as king were destroyed or erased from history after her reign, as the depictions of Hatshepsut as queen remained untouched.

As pharaoh Hatshepsut initiated building projects that were grander and more numerous than those of any of her New Kingdom predecessors. The masterpiece of her building projects was her mortuary temple complex at Deir el-Bahri, from which most of the important statuary in this exhibition come from. The show focuses on Hatshepsut reign (ca. 1479-1458 BC) the art and architecture, the phenomenon of a woman ruling in a patriarchal society, and the eventual destruction of Hatshepsut's monuments by Tuthmosis III. Twenty years after Hatshepsut's death Thutmose III issued a sanctioned program to destroy her monuments through smashing or re-appropriating them for himself, his father Thutmose II, or his grandfather Thutmose I which lead to her omission from later recorded king lists. Those in power have the option to rewrite history as they see fit.

Some of the show's short comings are due to the crowds and the display. If you have been to the De Young Museum, go early and go during the week. Weekends are maddening as it is very difficult to take in the work. Think Blockbuster museum show that packs em all in, which takes away from an intimate viewing experience of getting to walk 360 around the statues and actually being able to read the detailed cards. Instead you trip over a small child and have to climb the sarcophagus to read the label on the next Urn.

The entrance of the exhibition funnels in the crowds and starts with timelines that take us through Egyptian history, which combine to lose my patience. With the exception of the book-ending of smaller works made during Tuthmosis III's reign at the end of the exhibition, before opening up into the Treasured Gift Shop, parts of the display are scattered within a linear time structure. This fragmentation of linear time, lead me from important information regarding Hatshepsut's erasure early in the exhibition, to being overwhelmed by beautiful objects for a majority of the show mid-way, and returning to works of erasure towards the end. This caused me to run room to room to trace Hatshepsut's erasure.

This Erasure is first documented in a small sculpture "Senenmut Kneeling with Uraeus Cryptogram," made out of Metagraywacke which was later reworked. As a courtier of Hatshepsut, Senenmut's name has been carefully erased from all inscriptions on the statue. Other erasures include a "Relief Fragment with Hatshepsut," Recarved as Thutmose II; the "False Door of Thutmose I" in which a figure of Hatshepsut has been erased, surely at the order of Thutmose III, but her hand extended above the table still shows.

Marketing Egyptian Art to viewers, the treasures and riches of the time are targeted to an audience over its' content. This allows for more viewers to be drawn to the show and addressed with the show's content afterwards. Some statements describing Hatshepsut's reign as "a period of immense artistic creativity," are to broad and over arching for me as a viewer. I cannot completely see the differences or the worth of its refined craftsmanship from this time period over other periods of Egyptian Art without direct juxtaposition of works prior and post Hatshepsut's reign. Only through the merging of male and female canons during her reign, represented in a selection of works, do I start to see their value and artistry as it produces an Androgynous Representation of the Pharaoh in Stone.

This merging of male and female canons to create the image of Hatshepsut as pharaoh was done through a series of combinations. "Head of Hatshepsut," reconstructed, from an eleven foot statue of her as the god Osiris. Osiris the Egyptian God of the dead and the underworld was a male figure that pharaohs often appropriated in their own image. Hatshepsut's head wears Osiris crown as the rest of the statue has been destroyed. "Hatshepsut as Female King," is quite an amazing statue even within the confines of Egyptian canon the carving of Hatshepsut's face is delicate and pays close attention to feminine features which gives an air to softness making it quite striking as she appropriates the nemes headdress worn by pharaohs.

Slowly the images of Hatshepsut shift from a combination of male and female representation to that of just male representation without breasts. "Hatshepsut Wearing the White Crown," depicts her in a masculine physique, beard, and kings garb. Kneeling in a ritual performed by the king, our only reference to Hatshepsut is her inscribed name and features similar to the other statues of her. The sphinx usually depicted with head of a pharaoh and uses masculine pronouns for the king. In "Hatshepsut as a Maned Sphinx," Hatshepsut replaces the male pharaoh head with her own and this sphinx uses feminine pronouns in its inscriptions. Other Hatshepsut statuary and objects in the exhibition continue using both masculine and feminine forms.

Most importantly this show presents us with works that go through the varying propaganda Hatshepsut uses through appropriating symbols of the king to control her image in solidifying her as the first Female Pharaoh in a patriarchal society. Then those patriarchal rulers in turn erasing her from history after her death. Ultimately the truth lies in the extent of documentation whether through art or letters. If there is enough of it, something will survive and shed light on the truth for future generations.

Fired at Davis

There's a saying that the finger of god moves over the surface of the world and where it occasionally stops history is made. I think about this sometimes not in spiritual terms but in connection with cities emerging as leaders in the art world. By extension it can apply as well to art schools. The Southern California dominance of American art education in recent decades--Cal Arts, UCLA--was preceded by a decade or more of genius in Northern California, at UC Davis in fact, from the early 60s to the mid 70s and beyond.

At one point Davis had on its faculty Wayne Thiebaud, William Wiley, Robert Arneson, Manuel Neri, Roy De Forest, and others, and produced many notable students including Bruce Nauman, Deborah Butterfield, Richard Shaw and dozens of others. Stanford University curator, Hilarie Faberman, working with collectors Paula and Ross Turk, has put together a wonderful show of highlights of the work produced by the ceramics department under the visionary leadership of Arneson.

Arneson, along with Peter Voulkos and James Melchert at Berkeley, were at the forefront of a movement to claim ceramics as a sculptural material as opposed to a utilitarian craft material. Arneson's legendary studio, TB9, is still in use today and is a beloved shrine to his ornery genius. You can search the gallery but you won't find teapots or plates; you will find a disgusting shit-brown toilet by Arneson and a pretty funny brain floating in water by Clayton Bailey. The imposing classical pile that is the Cantor Arts Center is host to these works of art in the way that a standard poodle is host to small beasties living in its fur. That is, the ethos of Davis at the time was strictly antiauthoritarian, contrary, self-mocking, bohemian and ill-mannered. It is inevitable but a little disconcerting to see the work both tamed and elevated.

Running through February 26th, the show has a knockout group of small vessels by Kathy Butterly that are in the same perfectionist league as Ron Nagle. The late and deeply under-recognized Marilyn Levine has a pair of signature trompe l'oeil old boots. Richard Shaw is represented by works that, as always with this master, amaze us at the human capacity to approach perfection. David Gilhooley's frog Queen Victoria makes the party too. Arneson is the star, as then, as ever. Long live the kink.