Sunday 23 March 2008

the last day of winter




before the spring storm that dumps another 40cm snow. we are now only 25cm from the record snowfall totals

Thursday 13 March 2008

the michael crummey "wreckage" tour of chicago


The gun shop out of the way it was time to sight see and being in Oak Park we started tripping over his houses. Needing a smoke we stop in front of his studio and compare notes with what happened. She also was fine with the guns in the case but when they started coming out, she felt nervous.

I was looking up the street at a parade of Asian tourists walking in the middle of the street. I photographed the parade when one of them spoke. We know the rest… raced over to her made the snap with her friends giggling and finding out her nationality thanked her in Japanese to the shock of the rest of the crowd.

Hungry, i chose a national chain of cafés for a snack when the Outer Cove Ontarian noticed the Cosy Corner in downtown Oak Park and wondered if we could get something typically “american” there.

Ah, perfect i would have gone for the nationally bland when she chose a blandness of a more local flavour. Much better as there was still a waitress who could give suggestions - the from away was always asking for them. At Penney’s Noodle Shop in Bucktown, at Wishbone the next day and now. It seemed the big item was any chicken dish.

She had the patty melt, I had and egg mayonnaise on toasted rye with a root beer.

The waitress kept coming back to see if the food was good, a photograph had to be made, the Japanese parade passed us while eating and we waved.

The people behind us were from Dominican and laughing about the photo professor there.

My fear was what to show but ended up making it a Michael Crummey The Wreckage tour as part of the book takes place in Chicago – personally would much rather have done the Fogo Island part of the tour but…

This meant all the shadier parts of the city while heading over to the old stockyards. Stopped at the new Comiskey Park mentioned the foresight of the city leaders in pulling down a landmark to put up the last generic ball park in the States. The subtext of the tour was architecture and dislocations of peoples – all of which Chicago is famous. So past the site of the Maxwell Street Market until the city determined that the south side needed a yuppie ville - we did pass the Maxwell Street Market Theme Park where it is now designated space to be quaint - past the former Robert Taylor homes where there is now a Starbucks, mentioned that the expressways went through the black neighbourhoods. Through the stockyards and the neglected areas that surround Bridgeport. Down to Pullman to see the planned city and where the riots took place. Back up through the East Side and South Chicago passing the vacant land of the steel mills and pulled down houses. Finally passing the “restoration” of Soldier Field into something that Steven Spielberg could use in Close Encounters. Past Presidential Towers which used to be Skid Row and where places were set aside for the poor until people actually moved in

Dark now and knackered, dropped her off at the hotel and crawled out to the Kennedy for the drive back to Peasants Pissoir only to find that due to the warmth of the day she had left her coat in my machine.

Sunday 9 March 2008

THE QUAKER AND THE GUNSMITH


With the help of a Mennonite.

Or why - yet again - I am not an artist.

It was Sunday I was in the city early as I had to find a free space to park and meet up at the steps of the tute by 10. It was a great morning - I over compensated for the drive down so had plenty of time, I also had an empty bag, so I could swarve about the Loop making snaps without the hassle of trying to find the camera in the bag. It was out found quite a few things surreal wandering and made it in time to let her into the Hopper exhibit while I went around back and prepared for classes and sat quietly out in the first hint of spring so far.

The main goal of the day was to head out to Elmwood Park and thank buddy for his help in trying to get the chandelier into the country. Being I we drove the entire length of Grand Avenue rather than take the Eisenhower, as it was a better way of seeing the city. I realised that I was taking the subway for speed but popping one’s head out of the ground every once in a while doesn’t necessarily give one an idea of the city - I started taking bussed and this time took a street the 74 blocks. Stopped a couple of times for those truly lost signs days gone by - a Paul Bunyan type holding a tail pile, a giant crayfish, things that scream the states.

To tell you the truth didn’t know how to act or what to expect walking into the gun dealership - those 15 years at Friends had me wonder if this was the right thing to be doing.

It was this coupled with the bipolar attitude of contemporary society. He knew that we were artists, which stereotypically means the wrong side of the fence - if he were equally stereotypical. I’d seen ARMED IN AMERICA where every gun toter was spouting the second amendment.

I was worried about his feelings of me taking snaps in the place through our perceived mutual misunderstandings.

Ah 15 years at Friends taught me not to judge or at least be willing to modify my judgement when encountering something that doesn’t fit.

It was a mom and pop place his wife was waiting on someone he was in the back room and got up when he heard that weird accent that happens when you cross an Ontarian with someone who lives around the bay.

He came out to say hello exchanged horror stories about the ATF. I photographed both of them together first with Zequinho wanted everything to turn out. Then with the digital so as to send buddy one. Which were sort of unfortunate.

Felt better when I realised that the place looked like a camera shop. I could almost forget the lethal weapons. Guns spook me I don’t care how inert they are. I made small talk but was uneasy being close to them.

I could hear the firing range in the back.

But buddy was great he was as geekish about guns as I am about cameras. Others joined in talking about the representation of guns in movies and on TV. Buddy mentions breathing and I - finally feeling at home bring up breathing to steady a camera. He takes us in the back to show up the firing range. Which is deafening when the door is opened. He is strict no live ammo with the guns.

He gives us the rundown of who is who in the firing range saying how one person is a model new citizen. To me he seems strange as while everyone is dressed casually he is in a Burberry and tie. He also towers over the rest of the crowd.

So far the guns have been revolvers and rifles but for him buddy goes into the safe and brings out an automatic strange looking gun. He pulls the trigger. Beth and I flinch, we want to leave, in cases they are fine out of them…

Buddy keeps asking the owner if parts cane be switched and the owner keeps shaking his head. It won’t be legal. Buddy wants to buy it but wants to fire it first but only after he knows the price. There is a stalemate.

We head back to the front of the shop. Meet his wife. Ask if there is a favourite liquor or beer that he likes. He doesn’t want anything, as he didn’t do anything we thank him and leave.

I was glad that I am not an artist. If I were I would have already known that what this person is doing is bad, that all his type are evil and wouldn’t have to go out in the world to have my most declarations questioned. That I wouldn't bother to try to understand his position or his ideas the way the moose stew slurpers and cod tongue kissers cannot understand my herbivore status.

Buddy was a great guy, we probably would have drinks together or meet in any other circumstance but by both of us being open and willing to help I came away seeing humanity in someone that we rampant liberals are supposed to despise. Beth kept saying that she felt that we all probably weren’t all that far off philosophically as for me I always find it nice when what most people see as black and white end up in shades of grey.

Guns should be tightly registered and regulated as we do cars, dogs and the like. I can also see why my opposites can say that guns don’t kill...as I cannot imagine - well the exception of Burberry Buddy - anyone there going beyond hunting. But this also could be 15 years at Friends.

Saturday 8 March 2008

Why I hate Chicago


Saturday noonish for a brunch at the much vaunted Milk And Honey where the pregnant blonds of Bucktown meet. A mistake. The day became an endless circling of blocks first at the hotel then – after the crawl to Bucktown and going down Division at parade speed – we circle the blocks only to find both cafés with queues out the door.

We head to Wishbone and a 20 minute wait.

An attempt to save the day by speeding by the Michael Jordan statue and posing in front of Oprah Winfrey’s Studio.

Friday 7 March 2008

Over dinner at Penney’s Noodle shop we discussed the plan of action, I went into my weird version of tour guide where every bock was a new diversion. I could see it happening still in the race to get out of Chicago we took the el to Bucktown. On the way back the bus – you can see more on a bus – and in the end took a nice walk under Michigan Avenue – less tourists – back to Ohio Street.

She wanted to see my Chicago – the closest I want to come to Chicago is Madison – but my Chicago would be seeing if certain sites still existed – the Little People’s Museum in Marquette Park, or wandering about South Chicago and the East Side. Nevertheless we both being artists and me working where I do we thought that we should go out in search of art - no mean feat.

She caught the bug by buying a five day bus pass and wandering about Pilsen.

For me this hasn’t been a great month for art as all my fears about the medium seemed to not only manifest itself but grow. Looking at more portfolios than I care to, while I found great intellectual treatises, many works that referred to other works or the short comings of the medium that was being used. I saw work that took a distanced cynical look of the world as if to get closer or more involved would infect the artist with SARS or some other deadly disease. The fear that comes across in the nightly news was also apparent in the photographs -either by distance or by the fact that the snappers would never leave their studio. As one student put it, it seems that art having nothing to do with craft or an engagement with the world is simply one person saying that they are smarter than another person and is about as universal a way of communicating as Friesian.

It was a good night for it as there were three openings in the three realms of the gallery world. The plan was to go from the established to the “innovative” to her show on the periphery of the gallery universes here.

We were unfashionably early to the show of Ken the elder, he wasn’t there yet but and there were few people mingling. It felt strange to actually see the work. Chatted with the directors and looked at some work that would have potential with my class.

Ken arrived we exchanged jokes – but he had these handlers who seemed intent on protecting him from people in scarves and with odd accents. So we left. Was hoping for a boost in morale by running into former WGAS faculty inmates but to no avail.

Headed over to River West for Buddy’s opening which was just the opposite. It was packed - CTA trains as rush hour are less populated I couldn’t think or hear so a few nods and a departure. The work talking more about other work than anything in the world itself.

Lot’s to talk about heading to her opening which was a blend of the two. Less crowded, worse small talk, finding out that the Upper Canadian hunter had made the chandelier piece – one person said that she knitted cosies for hand grenades.

The best part of the evening was seeing an ex-student who was scoping out the gallery and - NYC style – had small prints of her work.

They were funny, visually complex, had multiple levels of entry and quite well done, close to the best thing I saw all evening. As an artist model in schools and groups, when there was a break she would photograph the people painting/drawing her with herself in a mirror at times making herself look like the paintings they were trying to make, the mirror’s frame working like an ornate border for the painting. At times everyone was looking toward the viewer creating even more of a confusion. She was looking for places to show the work.

After nodding and smiling and making sure she hit all the judges, we left but being Chicago, nothing in the area was open for a snack and there wasn’t enough time to go anyplace before the train back.

After dropping her off at the hotel, I made snaps through the windows of the closed restaurants on the way to the train.

Now I remember,


it was the day that I found out that Josh was killed, I was wandering about in a daze with too many surreal things happening at once. I had also run into someone who worked at the WGAS at Auntie Crae’s.

I was back at Wordplay as my evil twin was leaving but as he was leaving he introduced me to this woman whose name I forgot but I managed to get a snap off anyway. He raced off leaving us to small talk before parting.

As was the case back then, of the many snaps that were sent off one went to my bayman brother who at the time was living in the Battery - in Chris Brookes’s place but this is another one degree of separation story.

It seems that my bayman brother from Port Kirwan had someone over when this snap of a woman appeared in the post who was the woman he was beginning to date and finally in a bout of insanity leave the Battery for Portugal Cove Road.

I heard about this when from the twin but it seems that it had gone around St. John’s. It turns out that this person was Beth - yet another from away who at least is lucky enough to call the rock home although she is really an upper Canadian from the GTA - fellow Gros Morne residency person - long before me - now the bayman brother’s partner.

Knowing that Beth was an artist with whom we are still trying to collaborate on a show - my idea for a working title is PLAYS WELL WITH OTHERS. - due to the fact - mentioned this summer that I photograph the things that she would pick up to put in a sculpture. Anyway knowing that she is an artist I got this call for artists for this gallery for a group show.

She sent in work. It was accepted and she now was in the process of trying to have it make it from the edge of North America to the Mid-West. If she could get the piece here she would follow spend a few nights in Chicago - I said it being the second city of the states was sort of like Corner Brook without the culture.

The problem was the skittish paranoia and the fear that some official would make a serious error and let some terrorist in the land of the free had all in power deferring to others.

To back up the piece in question was a chandelier made of bullet casings made because she has two son’s of the age that get sent to Afghanistan.

I have already wrote about the gallery, now it is ATF’s turn. When finally she had the piece crated, it was shipped and arrived at customs in Chicago where it sat because no one wanted to say that the bullet casings - no caps no powder - were harmless. So they held on to it. They wanted a real gun dealer to come out look at the piece and say that it wasn’t nor never could be a weapon. This was Monday the show opened Friday. She was still in St. John’s.

I had a student - who at one time lived in Baltimore as she owned one and was fascinated with them. She put Beth on to buddy in Elmwood Park who called the ATF to see what was up only to find out that he could do nothing.

Beth was on the phone to this bossy person from ATF who told her to shut up and listen all the time but did come up with ways of getting the work into the country and finally one worked.

Beth got a hunting licence on line and being a hunter could now import the chandelier.

She arrived at the WGAS Thursday evening after passing through our own passport control and heightened security I believe the level was carmine.

Sunday 2 March 2008

A friend – being in town – which is another long entry – and being in a show here has me once again glad that I am ambivalent to the lure of the gallery, I realise that this would be more bighting if they were lured by me but nevertheless…

To be in this show which was juried, there was a $35 entry fee. When the work was accepted she had to pay the handling and the shipping and finding a customs broker – even though there was an international call for entries – she was one of two international artists. The work has to be ready for hanging by the artist. They were slow to respond to e-mails and phone pleas to the point that their voice mail message doesn’t even imply that you can leave a message. If the work is sold they take 40%. She will stay anonymous until the show comes down as will the gallery.

This seems like a great deal for the gallery as I am sure that if there is a paid staff there are at the most two people the only cost that I can see is the rent and utilities There seemed to be 50 people in the show if one in four were accepted that would hint at 200 people applying $7000. What a windfall for even when they pay the juror, and hand out the prizes – there was even a donation box by the plonk and bikkies there will be a hefty sum made for the place and if work sells…

And the work for the most part was pretty bad.

The sad aspect of all of this is that those who apply to shows like this are the ones that can least afford it. My friend thought it would be a hoot and thus jumped in but being international she thought that the fee would pay for some the other expenses. Being there, though, I saw all these new artists some I know could barely afford to make work but were lucky with their $35 bet. I then thought of those who weren’t and others who were there scoping out the joint wondering if they would have a chance at the next round.

All this gallery has are juried shows with entry fees. Do they rake in $80 000p.a. banking on the same hopes that all those reality shows use to their advantage.

Back in the dark ages at Goldsmiths’ we were not only warned about shows like this but how they were in essence usury as there was no risk on the part of the gallery who were riding on the backs of a financially strained artists.

The touching part of the evening was when I met someone who I knew who was scoping out the place and trying to determine whether she should enter the fray for the next call for entries. She showed me her work and – frankly it is too good for the gallery. My friend and I told her so but I had trouble coming up with alternatives.

In full disclosure - it is to my shame that I took part on the usuary end of this equation - mea culpa - my only excuse was that I was young(er) and more gullible.