Joseph: I've been putting off our conversation about the Oakland Art Murmur because, in my opinion, the most exciting thing about it was the event itself. Having experienced the first thursdays set-up in Portland a few years back I think the first fridays idea is simple and effective. The pitch for it might read, "no need to top off the teeming land fill with paper flyers for all of the eight spaces involved, and while you're at it let's repurpose the cost of printing to support your artists. Just merge your mailing lists, open your doors (on the same night), and double, maybe even triple, your audience." They even have a catchy identity for the whole thing "murmur," as in a rising sea of voices. . or maybe the white noise of a crowded gallery space heard from afar. One of the online dictionaries came up with "a low continuous indistinct sound; often accompanied by movement of the lips without the production of articulate speech." If we translate this into a critique of the artwork on view. . . I'm sad to say it's not far off.

Scott: That definition of "murmur" is a good one. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that the title of the first Friday's event reminded me of the R.E.M. album, Murmur (I'm afraid that dates me a bit). After all this time self-deprecation is still linked with coolness. Perhaps that is why it often feels like a pretense. Compared to San Francisco the Oakland art scene can be seen (or heard) as only a murmur, but there are so many more venues and public events today in Oakland than there were just five years ago. I've been here for fifteen years and there has always been interesting art and music coming out of Oakland. And there's always been this self-deprecating attitude that is part of Oakland's identity—a kind of embrace of its abjectness and underdog status in relation to SF. So it's heartening to see local energy manifesting itself in visibly local ways.

Of course there is still the question of the art on view. I was just trying to recall the reasoning Michael Stipe gave for mushing his vocals, but it hardly matters now. For me it is a form and content issue. You certainly can't have one with out the other, and I understand trying to make them indistinguishable. I'm not sure how relevant that is to Oakland Art Murmur except to say that the way I interpret your comment about the definition of "murmur" being an apt description for the art work on view is that it was form without much content (or much apparent content). Or did you simply mean that you didn't find the work to be all that engaging in form or content? In general the later was true for me, but to be fair I don't think that openings are ideal conditions for experiencing artworks. I mean I am usually very distracted by, and interested in, all the people. Which brings me back to the event itself. I agree with you. It was lovely to walk around downtown Oakland, which can feel somewhat deserted at night, and keep running into people I knew. There was definitely an air of open friendliness. For me that was the transformative character of the night. On the other hand, I had this vague, but nagging suspicion that the network of individuals this group of galleries represents (I use the term loosely) is a little too tightly knit.

Joseph: For me, these kind of shows are experienced in a relative way, each gallery or event forms a sort of microcosmic context. In other words, I tend to pick out the most interesting moments despite an awareness that the whole experience may be disappointing in relation to my collective memory of related moments. While I think the exhibitions at the galleries involved in Murmur were far from disappointing, I came away thinking about how the event characterized the Oakland art scene. . and the results were kind of flat. The galleries are scrappy and informal (maybe unpretentious) but ultimately fairly predictable. Even curator Sue Costabile's compelling video pod exhibition structures (See Ben Reisman's preview article) and Chandra Bocci's wonderful collage-sculptures couldn't help me overcome the feeling that these galleries are stuck between a boutique style art store and a slacker clubhouse / gallery-in-training. That said, the artist run sentiments of these spaces is honest and endearing. Yet something seems to prevent the galleries from presenting work that thinks with any depth about content. This sense that surface style is privileged over meaning may be a kind of default (or even defensive) stance for the sake of the crowd of friends who seem to make up the bulk of the audience.

I can't help thinking it might be more interesting to see one or more of these spaces transform radically, or at least one of them pull their efforts into a some kind of focus. For example maybe one of the spaces focuses on and develops an identity as a venue for participatory projects or public projects or some kind of crazy cluster fuck that keeps growing like a cancer. . . or maybe one of the galleries shows just one artwork. What I'm looking for is the ability of these spaces to surprise us.

Scott: Personally I would not be at all surprised to find a cluster fuck in a gallery, but I share your desire to be surprised. I have a suspicion though: that looking to be surprised is not the same thing as being open to new experiences. You have to admit that being surprised by art in a gallery is a tall order, rather it would seem like a tall order to me because its rare that I am surprised by art in galleries. I am more likely to be surprised by odd wording on a restaurant menu, or a handmade sign in a chain store. I guess that has more to do with my expectations and context than anything else—galleries always alert me that I am about to see some art. The Art Murmur galleries are no different, but that's not what bothers me. (Nor do I mind the DIY aesthetic; nor the confusion of boutique, hangout spot, and gallery. In fact I think that Rock, Paper, Scissors—the space that most confuses these categories—is more interesting for it. I like seeing the connection between art and commerce and daily life, especially on a small scale.) What's missing for me is the attempt at connection with a larger audience than one's social circles. I think this requires more than simply opening your doors to the public. So your suggestion for participatory and public projects resonates with me, although I can imagine traditional forms of art also bridging social gaps.

To be continued…

For more information about the galleries paricipating in Oakland Art Murmur go to
http://www.oaklandartmurmur.com/