All the Art, Winter 2015

WINTER

THE VISUAL ART QUARTERLY OF ST. LOUIS

2015

Zlatko Ćosić, still of South Slavic Requiem (courtesy of the artist)

CONTENTS IN REVIEW (PGS. 01-10)

EXECUTIVE EDITOR AND CO-FOUNDER SARAH HERMES GRIESBACH

CREATIVE EDITOR AND CO-FOUNDER AMY REIDEL

DIRECTOR OF LAYOUT AND DESIGN MAXINE WARD

SOCIAL MEDIA AND OUTREACH MANAGER SEMILLA BLAND

PRINCIPAL PHOTOGRAPHER RICHARD REILLY

CONTENT CONTRIBUTORS MICHAEL R. ALLEN JOHN BLAIR SEMILLA BLAND RACHEL DOVE CARRIE GILLEN DANA GRAY SARAH GRIESBACH EILEEN G’SELL APRIL JOHNSTON MARGARET KELLER AMY MILLER MOLLY MOOG THOMAS PARK KATHERINE POOLE-JONES ELIZABETH POPE AMY REIDEL MEGAN RIEKE CHELSEA RITTER-SORONEN KERI ROBERTSON KIARRA LYNN SMITH ZACK SMITHEY STACEY WALKER SARAH WEINMAN GLORIA WOODCOCK RICH VAGEN

Exhibition reviews printed here are independent, critical analysis written by your neighbors. It is our ambition to cover art events occurring in every area of our region. If you wish to see coverage of an exhibition, let us know and get involved!

All are welcome to participate in this documentation of our local art happenings.

But don’t expect to write about artists you know and venues you already love.

We hope you’ll go across town to an area new to you and seek out artists’ work you haven’t seen before so that your review is fresh and focused!

STUDIO VISITS AND ARTIST INTERVIEWS (PGS. 11-13) All the Art, Fall 2015 focused on public art in St. Louis. The interviews included in this issue revolve loosely around the topic of “Art and Money in St. Louis.” We’ve asked a variety of local art workers to weigh in on this topic in the manner that fits their expertise. This collection of “Art and Money” stories doesn’t come close to exhausting the topic. Expect us to come at this broad subject from new angles as the seasons change.

COMMUNITY VOICES (PGS. 14-18) We explore the concept of currency as art and art appraiser Dana Gray demystifies the quantification of art’s value in this part of the “Art and Money” story. We also invited artists to contribute images and descriptions of artworks that offer commentary on our economy. Artists reading now might consider contributing to our upcoming Spring, 2016 issue with images of artworks that they perceive as teaching tools for that season’s “Art and Education in St. Louis” theme.

Gloria Woodcock’s Spanish language essay and Semilla Bland’s interview with Zlatco Ćosić (translated into Bosnian by Elvir Mandzukic), are an invitation to readers whose primary language is not English to share their words about our shared art.

COMMENTARY (PG. 19-20) The difficulty of finding the funding to make art in this perpetually cash-strapped line of work is discussed from four very different angles in our collection of personal essays on “Art and Money in St. Louis.” If you have an “Art and St. Louis” story stuck in your gut, our commentary section is the place to let it loose.

FOOTNOTES (PG. 22) Look here to find street and website addresses for artists, art venues and other organizations discussed in this issue as well as corrections from our previous issue and contact information for All the Art.

PRINT AND PROOF CONTRIBUTORS PAT CUSUMANO

TRANSLATOR ELVIR MANDZUKIC Front Cover: Sheila Hicks, Palitos con Bolos/Sticks with Balls (courtesy of the Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis, photo credit: Richard Reilly) Back Cover: Sheila Hicks, Full Regalia (courtesy of the artist and Sikkema Jenkins & Co. and the Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis, photo credit: Richard Reilly)

Clark Whittington, Art-o-Mat® installation at Serendipity Gallery (photo credit: Richard Reilly)

Last September, Critical Mass for the Arts invited four local art workers to participate in a panel discussion for the general public on the topic of "Art and Place" in St. Louis. Naturally, topics around money emerged frequently in that conversation. Some on the panel have, happily, found ample funding throughout their experiences creating and curating art in the region. A panelist described pleasure at cultivating new art collectors when introducing gallery visitors to the joy of art ownership. Some expressed gratitude for art jobs that pay a living wage.

Other participants voiced an inability to view their art as a commodity because it involves teaching, engaging with a public or creating work that is not a sellable object. These artists asserted the important role their art plays in giving form to our regional identity, in communicating the people's mission statement with their murals, sculptures, one-time-only events and surprise experiences.

their art interest to push them into new venues in new neighborhoods to see the work of artists they'd never heard of. We need more art adventurers to help our art economy grow.

That discussion, held at the University of Missouri Saint Louis’s Gallery 210, highlighted not only the very important role of economic forces on art production in our region, but also that of art venues, installations, events, advocates and practitioners on our local economy. This discourse set our wheels to working on how much happens in the art worlds because of charmed connections. Affiliations between art appraisers and collectors, gallery directors and artists, philanthropic organizations and their grantees prompt all sorts of questions about when these connections are fortuitous and how to make more of them. We decided to focus our Interviews and Community Voices sections of our All the Art, Winter 2015 issue on “Art and Money in our Region.”

To this end, All the Art asks potential contributors looking toward future issues to cover art events that are completely outside of their regular stomping ground.

We ask all of our art writers to visit exhibitions showing artists unknown to them, living and working in areas unknown to them. Let’s diversify our regional art investment by reaching out and supporting our diverse creative classes - the abstract painters, the mural creators, the print producers, those pushing the envelope and those decorating it.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, we found that questions related to our regional art economy show it to be somewhat fragmented. Everywhere we go, we find small groups of supportive people who rarely venture from the art community in which they participate. There are the exceptions, rare St. Louis art enthusiasts who use

Any investment advisor worth their salt will tell you to diversify your retirement savings into a variety of areas. Our regional art economy requires the same smart planning. We need sculptural installations in neighborhoods not yet known for the artists within their communities. Places like Paul Art Space in Florissant, the Granite City Art And Design District (GCADD) and the Pentimento arts programming event held in an abandoned school building near Cherokee and Jefferson are all crazy exciting ways to collaborate across geography and demography. We need to bridge our gaps with art.

When art funds are low and recognition is hard to come by, it’s easy to feel more competitive than supportive. But the reality is, we ALL need St. Louis to grow as a Midwest art hub and we can only make that happen if we let ourselves get exuberant about what the other guys around the corner are up to.

All the Best from All the Art,

Executive Editor and Co-Founder

Creative Editor and Co-Founder

INNOVATIONS IN TEXTILES 10 CONTEMPORARY ART MUSEUM ST. LOUIS, CRAFT ALLIANCE AND DUANE REED GALLERY

A huge fiber art collaboration came to St. Louis this fall. Far-ranging and impressive, spear-headed by Craft Alliance, it encompassed over twenty-five arts organizations. Knitting, crocheting, spinning, weaving, knotting, plaiting, sewing, dyeing, wrapping and quilting were all in sight.

Excluded, dismissed and overlooked since its beginnings in the 1940s and with a continued, devalued place as an art world outsider even through its explosive expansion in the 1960s and beyond, fiber art today holds a curious position in the art world. After embracing more validated masculine, industrial/technical means, it is now free to return to traditional, hand-worked materials.

From the start, it was labeled craft and belittled as essentially a female hobby related to housekeeping and motherhood. Cultural change in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s became manifest in fiber art. Fiber artists developed ambitious, three-dimensional, sometimes monumental, experimental sculpture, with nontraditional materials, metaphorical implications and a social/political consciousness. Not content to remain wall-pieces, fiber expanded onto the floor, the ceiling and took over entire rooms. Besides weight

and dimensionality, these works often were prescient of major movements like Minimalism and Postmodernism, which they later defied.

Feminism was prime for many, although not for fiber icon Sheila Hicks. Born in 1931 in Nebraska, and a long-time resident of Paris, Hicks has been consistently productive and ground-breaking for over fifty years. Spanning 1966 to 2014, her large body of work, curated by Kelly Shindler, in the Contemporary Art Museum’s Kranzberg exhibition gallery, showed the phenomenal development and associated labor of this important, living fiber artist.

Hicks’ work ranges from small-scale weavings (Minimes) using linen, feathers, bamboo and porcupine quills, to heavy, tubular, brightly colored wall pieces of woven linen (Oracle from Constantinople, 2008-2010) to multipart floor works, such as the Palitos con Bolas (Sticks with Balls, 2014). The latter is a joyful jumble of organic balls and fat sticks formed with varied fabrics, colors and thread wrappings resembling bright ocean coral or strangely alien fruits. Favoring turquoises, greens, oranges and magentas, as well as natural linen, Hicks’ work flows and drapes, folds and stretches

and often references messages (Hieroglyph Wuppertal, 1966), movement (Voyage of Serpentina, 1985), the feminine (Ptera ll –ancient Greek for winged feminine, 2011) and change. Ever experimental, Ringlets, 1993, plays with looping colorful rubber bands and paper clips.

Sharing a commonality with Hicks’ highly tactile work was Craft Alliance’s Speaking with Threads exhibition, curated by well-known fiber artist Jane Sauer. Sauer sees the linear stitches of Mark Newport, Mary Bero, Benji Whalen, Sonya Clark, Kathy Walker, Cindy Hickok and Carol Shinn as a means of communication.

Unlike Hicks, these artists make pictorial work that is frequently realistic and composed of thousands of tiny stitches. Benji Whalen exhibited four striking, soft sculpture arms covered in detailed, embroidered tattoos that picture a narrative of a life gone bad and then possibly redeemed. Each bodiless, amputated arm emerges from a t-shirt sleeve. Fast Machine flaunts a big-wheeled hot rod topped by a buxom girl. Fire spurts from tires as concertina wire divides the fun at the top from the jail scene at the bottom, where the devil himself is incarcerated.

Benji Whalen, Fast Machine, Good Shepherd, Resistance is Useless, Man of Sorrows, Installation view at Craft Alliance Center of Art + Design (photo credit: Margaret Keller) 01 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

IN REVIEW

Sonja Clark, Hair Necklaces (photo credit: Margaret Keller)

Good Shepherd, with a densely textured Christ head, seems to seek protection. Resistance is Useless covers dark wound-like holes with an impenetrable net of barbed wire and Man of Sorrows pastiches barbed wire, Gothic initials, a fledgling raptor and Christ onto another puffy, powerless arm.

The interior struggle of good versus evil continued into the exterior world in the works of Mark Newport, who embroiders DC comic book covers of Batman, Batgirl, Catwoman and the Rawhide Kid. These heroes and heroines are filled in with tight stitches to become dramatic, universal silhouettes saving the world from crime. Also referencing justice, Sonya Clark’s works made of twisted human hair are carriers of history and identity. Clark intimately comments on black lives by using copious amounts of hair to create her Hair Necklaces. One, formed into a large chain, could speak of racial injustice, past and present. Another, shaped as a cord that begins with dark hair and transitions into white at the end, shows opposites, difference and aging. Her tall Ladder says volumes about striving to overcome or escape. These hair clippings, through intensive labor, transform into art of the most subversive and humble materials.

Fiber continued at Duane Reed Gallery’s Four Entwined, with Jane Birdsall Lander, Katie Anderson, Jan Hopkins and Lindsay Ketterer-Gates.

Lander’s three sculptures, all constructed with joined wooden snaths (gracefully curved scythe handles), waxed and painted linen thread, glass taxidermy eyes and sometimes incorporating stringed instrument pegs, push the boundaries of fiber.

Siblings, Nest and Divining Child, all 2015, are three spare yet evocative abstractions. Visually, these suggest family and community. Siblings connects two parallel DNA-like forms punctuated by sharp points implying conflict and unease. In Divining Child, a single strand of wood seems to flex; viola pegs suggest changeability and resonance. At its end, a small hand centers an eye in its palm, giving it a knowing presence. All call forth the energy of relationships.

Fiber here encompasses the full spectrum of art: the decorative, the conceptual, abstraction and realism.

Yet tension remains between art and craft; the distinction continues. We still call this ‘fiber art’.

-Margaret Keller Jan Hopkins, Falling (foreground), Jane Birdsall-Lander, Divining Child (background), Installation View at Duane Reed Gallery (photo credit: Sarah Hermes Griesbach) IN REVIEW

WINTER 2015 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM 02

KRISTIAN SKEIE:

LIFE AFTER GENOCIDE THE MAY GALLERY AT WEBSTER UNIVERSITY

In October 2015, Swiss photojournalist Kristian Skeie discussed his photo project, Life After Genocide: Rwanda and Srebrenica in Bosnia Herzegovina, with a room of Webster University students who had been infants during the various wars that affected those countries some twenty years ago, respectively in 1994 and 1995. Skeie commented on the similarities and differences between the atrocities committed in both countries. He posited that while the scale of what happened in Bosnia and in Rwanda was different, the possibility of preventing both conflicts existed. His work is about acknowledging what did happen, with the hopes that if properly documented and acknowledged, it might not happen again.

Skeie's work is haunting and disturbing. His portrait of Raphael, a Hutu man, captures one of the thousands of Hutus who actively participated in the genocidal murders of the Tutsis in 1994. Raphael's sparse defense for his actions: “He did what he was told to do.” Skeie also presents Reverien who, at age 15, lost his entire family in an attack by the Hutus.

Though spared his life, he was mutilated. Now a middle-aged man living in Switzerland, Reverien has returned to Rwanda for the first time in twenty years. Skeie photographed Reverien sitting on the bed of Janvier, a woman the Tutsi man met when they were both children receiving help at a Red Cross Hospital in 1994. At age 11, Janvier was permanently paralyzed. In the photo documenting their meeting, Reverien covers his face with his right hand, giving the impression he is reliving the agony of their shared trauma while Janiver stares at him, stone-faced.

In Srebrenica, Bosnia, Skeie photographed the “Mars Mira,” the Peace March that commemorates the anniversary of the Bosnian genocide. Over the course of three days, the marchers follow the steps of the 8,000 Bosnians who were killed when attempting to escape Srebrenica on July 11, 1995.

Many of the surviving Bosnians are still tying to identify the bodies of their slain loved ones so that

Kristian Skeie, from Life After Genocide, (photo credit: Richard Reilly)

they may finally bury them. By July 11, 2014, 613 bodies were properly laid to rest.

Skeie shares a photo of an older woman, named Saliah, standing in an open field with arms slightly raised. She avoids direct contact with the camera, staring elsewhere. Her husband and both her sons were killed during the Srebrenica genocide in 1994.

Alone and without support, she subsists on her own agrarian efforts. She told Skeie that her work keeps her going, as it helps her to avoid thinking about the past.

There are numerous photos of young Bosnian men carrying coffins filled with the remains from the former conflict. The young men’s expressions

suggest that in carrying the coffins they are carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. Amongst photographs of older women and men in prayer, some sitting next to the wooden grave stakes, there is a woman name Advija. Advija stands apart from the other mourners, avoiding contact with Skeie's camera. Her hands hold up her head while the deep wrinkles around her eyes portray her as a woman who has seen more than she should. She identified and buried her father's remains in 2012.

The somber mood of the photos of both the survivors from Rwanda and the Srebrenica genocides are balanced by photos of the current generation of young children and teenagers born after the conflicts. From the Rwandan series, Skeie has various images of young boys running through the streets playing games. In the Srebrenica series, there are photos of teenagers, laughing and joking, perhaps contemplating their futures. Skeie observes that, in both countries, life continues.

Skeie reports that both countries have dealt with the legacy of their past quite differently. In Bosnia, people continue to be separated by their religions, as Christians and Muslims. They do not live together. Nor do they interact with each other. In Rwanda, the government has resettled many Hutus and Tutsis together, literally placing those that committed the murders into the same communities with those whose loved ones were murdered.

Wondering if these responses sprang from differences in religious faith and/or philosophical perspectives, Skeie noted that the Rwandans seemed more interested in discussing forgiveness and reconciliation than their Bosnian counterparts.

“This is something that interested me. Why is it like that?” While his project does not presume to give answers, his series does force his viewers to engage the questions.

-John Blair

Kristian Skeie, from Life After Genocide, (photo credit: Richard Reilly) 03 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

IN REVIEW

PAINTING PRAYERS:

THE CALLIGRAPHIC ART OF SALMA ARASTU

SAINT LOUIS UNIVERSITY’S MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS ART

Painting Prayers: The Calligraphic Art of Salma Arastu at MOCRA combined the traditions and points of views from differing, and sometimes conflicting religions, ethnicities, and artistic styles in a show of two series of works, Celebration of Calligraphy and Unity of Sacred Symbols and Texts.

Large colorful paintings filled the main space of the museum, a spacious nave-esque room.

Canvases hung on the walls, unframed, flowing like drapery, a few curling at the bottom. Bold calligraphy of Arabic text in black, white, or any of a rainbow of bright colors sit in front of backgrounds filled with red and green, gold, or, as in My Destiny, hues of purple and blue reminiscent of the impressionistic tranquility of Monet’s water lily paintings. If You Remember Me, I Will Remember You, incorporates thick gold paint, with stamps of patterns along the right side. These backgrounds of varying color fields, patterns, smudges or dripping of paint, create texture and provide an ethereal foundation for the calligraphy. Along the aisles, in side chapels, smaller paintings of calligraphy and figural elements hung in intimate settings. A long wall displayed a row of 15-inch circular mandalas.

The disks fit within an Indian traditional of circular geometric paintings of balance. With text circling the edges, they are also reminiscent of Kufic inscriptions found on Islamic pottery.

The large size of Arastu’s calligraphic forms have a fluidity to them on a scale not usually associated with the delicate art of writing. The movement of her text invokes the action and drama of its creation, with large sweeping strokes that feel natural and almost guided by a hand outside of our own. The calligraphy is at once in front of the background, and at the same time working its way into the distance, merging with the color and becoming part of abstract patterns.

Using text from the Quran, Arastu has given the viewer a look into the emotion she feels from these prayers. The paintings relay energy and feelings even if one does not read the words depicted. While her large calligraphy paintings feature verses from the Quran, others on view, including those in a series, Unity of Sacred Symbols and Texts, incorporate Jewish, Christian, Islamic, and Hindu texts.

Painting Prayers is a confluence of thoughts and traditions. Arastu, born in India, raised Hindu and through marriage embracing Islam, now lives in San Francisco. She, herself, is a definition of multiculturalism, and her paintings are a reflection of her experiences. Arastu celebrates the lyrical quality of the verses found in the Quran with the flowing calligraphic text. Likely foreign to many observers, the Arabic text can be appreciated for the beauty of

its form as much as its meaning. The historically common use of non-figural patterns within Islamic art meshes well with the abstract and expressionist traditions of the west, providing another layer of Painting Prayers cultural fusion.

Arastu communicates a general sense of unity and blending of ideas as well as specificity. There is an inherent juxtaposition of the precise and purposeful nature of the Quranic verses with the very painterly and apparent spontaneity of the backgrounds. The holy text is the core of a belief system and is celebrated for being stable and unchanging; whereas, the paint is sometimes dripping down the canvas, at the will of gravity as much as anything else.

Indeed, Painting Prayers combines traditions and influences, and the very setting of the show, a renovated Jesuit chapel, further drives the point home. Salma Arastu shows the viewer how humanity should be: a convergence of ideas, and a thirst for knowledge and understanding of worlds outside our own - or worlds misunderstood as separate from our own. As one of the paintings, Increase me in knowledge says “...O my Lord!

Advance me in knowledge.”

-Rich Vagen

Salma Arastu, My Destiny, Museum of Contemporary Religious Art (courtesy of the artist) IN REVIEW

WINTER 2015 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM 04

EXPOSURE 18:

NERVOUS LAUGHTER

GALLERY 210

Exposure 18: Nervous Laughter at the University of Missouri St. Louis’s Gallery 210 maximized an uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty. Aimee Howard, Deborah Alma Wheeler and Brett Williams accomplish their sculpture in different ways, but their artworks spoke to each other in the space of Gallery A. The trio’s objects are each somewhat recognizable, but there is something off kilter in the application of the commonplace. They use their materials and familiar constructs, tangible and intangible, in masterful ways to create a new uneasy reality.

Wheeler’s Gay Precious Moments, perfectly nice, typical, artificial wedding cake, contains the classic porcelain silhouette of a little cutesy groom and – another groom, created before the passage of same-sex marriage legislation. The something has been seen before, but now appropriated/altered/added to and this takes the certain “hey, I know what this is” and twists it into uncertainty, much like William’s twisting and flailing appendage in Consonance/Dissonance, which is heard before it is seen. You think you know what the object is supposed to do, but on closer examination your assumptions are blown apart. You expect the regular

Deborah Alma Wheeler, Gay Precious Moments, (photo credit: Richard Reilly)

rhythm of moving parts to produce a constancy, but the unpredictable nature of the microphone and cord at the end of that arm disrupts that possibility; the brain strains to detect a melody in the dissonant.

The resultant sound is not simply the dragging or pinging you expect, because Williams has distorted and amplified the result.

As you contemplate, out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure standing in the next area. It is actually a life-size Time-Out Doll, with a tomboy look, sent to the corner for being attracted to the same sex. This work has a disconcerting additional effect of making the viewer think someone else is in the room. Wheeler’s pieces Catharsis, Introspection, and Privilege utilize the familiar institutional student desk, tampon machine, and water fountain to accentuate the separation of the mainstream from the marginalized, whether this comes from outside (the edict on the fountain) or the inside (self-reflection in a mirror).

Wheeler is an important voice in lesbian sociology and her works are powerful evidence of the deep effect of being forced into that narrow definition of what mainstream society tells us is right and proper, and she uses the idea of the gay object as another tool in her art kit. The dominant item in the room, Religion Fucked Me, a bedroom scene with white furniture any Jesus-loving tween girl of 20 years ago would desire, complete with soft focus savior above, open bible next to bed, and the twin bed strewn with rose petals for consummation of the relationship – with Wheeler providing a stand-in for the lover, in the drawer of the bedside table. Wheeler presents these items without flinching.

Aimee Howard's constructed medical implements are expertly crafted, unique objects with parts that have been seen somewhere – doctor’s office or tool shop. The accompanying texts are faithful to the style, tone and look of any old medical text, which one would either take as gospel or with a grain of salt. On closer inspection, the viewer realizes what appeared genuine is obviously constructed, the maladies have not been named before, but are immediately recognizable effects of being near

Exposure 18: Nervous Laughter Installation View at Gallery 210 (photo credit: Richard Reilly) 05 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

IN REVIEW

Brett Williams, Consonance/Dissonance (photo credit: Richard Reilly)

disease. Her Reliquaries have much of the craftmanship and feel of actual venerated religious objects, but are tributes to and vessels for the hope we put in medicine to deliver us from sickness and infirmity.

Like Dan Grayber’s tools which function only to support themselves, Howard’s apparatus function to support and bolster those who are confronted with a sick loved one.

As each artist’s work is examined, the viewer achieves a moment where the twist is felt – whether an emotional wrenching as you remember the feeling you experienced of that pressure of words not spoken (curable by Howard’s Residual Expression Extractor); the lurch in your inner workings when the microphone jumps over the third cymbal instead of whacking it like it just did five times; the millisecond when the carnival wheel in Choice or Chosen pauses at “Heterosexual” then resets to “Homosexual” (the wheel is weighted to always make that choice for the spinner). That’s when a chuckle involuntarily erupts, because that unease must be released.

-Keri Robertson

THE ARTIST AND THE MODERN STUDIO SAINT LOUIS ART MUSEUM

Joseph Beuys used Ubris II, chalk on blackboard, in one of his many lectures on the need for heightened human awareness. Installed in the Saint Louis Art Museum’s The Artist and the Modern Studio, the blackboard represented the stage from which Beuys performed. The black backdrop represents the open space of the mind and heart. It stands in for a canvas, blurring the lines of art and life. The chalk markings become art and the performance of lecturing becomes a reflection of LIBERTA, or freedom, the focal point of this piece. Beuys inspires us and teaches us that what matters in this world is human action (how we move), social or political behavior (the choices we make), and personal creativity (what we produce and voice). For him, this was a studio, a portable classroom.

Andreas Feininger’s photographs of Alexander Calder, working in his studio in 1964, were a highlight of the exhibit. Though Feininger mostly

shot in black and white, by using color in these images, he emphasized Calder’s love of bright primary colors. Feininger places Calder in the center, in the background, and while he is in focus, the shapes that make up his moving sculptures are the real subject. Calder’s boyish intensity comes across as he works. In the space surrounding him, other shapes and wires explode from the perimeter of the mat and frame. Calder becomes a fixture in his own work. He is a part of the mobile or stabile.

mirrorings of Blackburn. The theme of mirroring continues in the form of a patron viewing prints displayed on the workshop wall. These comparisons between both the art buyer and the art and the artist and his studio represent the many roles of the artist.

His studio and the city outside are places of both creation and exhibition.

Ron Adams’s 2002 color lithograph Blackburn shows printmaker Robert Blackburn laboring in his workshop in New York City. Adams creates a compelling narrative. Blackburn’s figure is muscular, commanding and focused. Blackburn is absorbed in his production of art, and we are absorbed in him.

Adams uses the full space of the studio to support the character’s story. The visual details of the city shown in the background are evocative, industrious

* The Saint Louis Art Museum’s Artist and the Modern Studio exhibition explored important artists’ reflections on their private and public art practices.

Curators Eric Lutz, Ann-Maree Walker and Leah Chizek also invited the general public to share their private art practices with the world by posting pictures of those spaces on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

The resulting images can be seen by searching for #SLAMstudioshare.

-Stacey Walker

Ron Adams, Blackburn (photo courtesy of Saint Louis Art Museum) IN REVIEW

WINTER 2015 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM 06

GUNS IN THE HANDS OF ARTISTS DES LEE GALLERY

A gun points menacingly forward from a great metal curve in the center of the gallery. The muzzles of two Colt .38 caliber revolvers peek out from a concrete bust where the eyes should be, the grips extruding from the back of the head. A street sign reads “NO DYING HERE ANYTIME from 7am to 7pm.”

Aluminum butterflies perch delicately on the barrel of a shotgun, and a retro gum ball machine sits in the corner, ready to dispense shiny gold bullets.

In a recent show at the Des Lee Gallery, the walls were covered in weapons.

Guns in the Hands of Artists, which traveled to the Des Lee from the Jonathan Ferrara Gallery in New Orleans, was mounted in St. Louis as part of Washington University’s initiative Gun Violence: A Public Health Crisis. Participating artists were given guns collected as part of New Orleans’ gun buyback program, and the resulting artworks and artists’ statements are meant as a catalyst for dialogue. To this end, the exhibition was accompanied by programming confronting the problem of gun violence, including panel discussions and a local crowd-funded gun buyback program. The hope of the organizers is that conversation sparked by the exhibition will continue long after it closes, both within the community and on the hashtag #GITHOA. In the gallery space, the back wall was dominated by Neil Alexander’s nearly life-size photographic diptych, Growing Up in a Gun Culture, My Son. Alexander created the first of the two photographs, a portrait of his young son, naked and holding a revolver, for the first Guns in the Hands of Artists exhibition in 1996. When asked to contribute another piece for the 2014 iteration of the show, Alexander decided to replicate the photograph of his son, now a young man. While the first photograph is black and white and the more recent in color, their similarities indicate how little our cultural relationship with guns has changed in the intervening decades. The young boy and the young man look directly out toward the viewer, pointing their guns at each other. While the child seems nervous, angling his body away from a firearm too large for him, the young man stands confidently upright, having grown into his weapon. Still naked, he no longer appears vulnerable.

One of the most quietly disturbing pieces in the show is Adam Mystock’s The Last Six, Under Six, Murdered by a Gun in the Sixth. From across the gallery, all that was visible was a bullet-scarred wall.

Moving closer, it became apparent that each of the six bullet holes held a miniature portrait of a child, painted with acrylic on copper. Mystock’s statement revealed that these were the last six victims under six years old who succumbed to gun violence in New Orleans’ Sixth Police District. Rather than depicting a gun in the hands of an innocent like Alexander, 07 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

Mystock appropriated and reworked the physical traces of gun violence to reveal its power as a destroyer of innocence.

Nearby, a 9mm pistol sat mounted on a steel plate, the base of the encasing vitrine littered with spent cartridges. A wire threaded around the trigger is the only visible element of a mechanism programmed to fire a blank into the vitrine when a shooting is reported by the New Orleans Police Department.

Like The Last Six, Under Six, Murdered by a Gun in the Sixth, R. Luke Dubois’s Take a Bullet for the City is concerned with recording individual acts of violence. However, instead of portraits of the victims, we are left with an impersonal register of violence done: “hard data in both senses of the word.”

While some artists chose to explore guns as physical objects, many considered the cyclical and seemingly unceasing nature of gun violence by referencing its victims. In this way, the title of Ron Bechet’s piece could be viewed as a thesis for the exhibition as a whole: Why? (Is it Easier to Get a Gun Than an Education, A Gun Instead of Help?).

Why indeed? Guns in the Hands of Artists not only encouraged us to ask this question, but creatively and viscerally revealed the high cost of continuing to leave it unanswered.

-Amy Miller Luis Cruz Azaceta, Street Sign (photo credit: Richard Reilly)

Adam Mystock, The Last Six, Under Six, Murdered by a Gun in the Sixth (photo credit: Richard Reilly) IN REVIEW

Brian Borrello, Open Carry, installation view at Des Lee Gallery (photo credit: Richard Reilly)

ILENE BERMAN:

60 HOURS Elizabeth Pope offers a poetic response to Ilene Berman’s installation 60 Hours which incorporates desks, felt and graphite as part of an exhibition of artwork by Saint Louis University studio art faculty at the University’s McNamee Gallery in Cupples House.

SAINT LOUIS UNIVERSITY’S MCNAMEE GALLERY IN CUPPLES HOUSE

another step closer

sixty hours of hollow resentment

more circles appear

you sit

now they echo bubbles

a poor crooked child

gathered as quintets

in a felt school desk

here in a fourth grade class

how are you to understand

soak in the smoothness

a standardized test

a pattern. a message.

dizzying circles

is that what they call them

leave a mind yearning

twenty percent luck

wandering land

stand from afar

When your soul a wandering land

the rest of the world against you for a pattern. a message. but you knew that waves collapse side by side dreams from the wall

some bubbles scribbled with anxiety

of a childhood bedroom

yet others dark with boldness

-Elizabeth Pope

Ilene Berman, 60 Hours (photo credit: Richard Reilly) IN REVIEW

WINTER 2015 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM 08

TEN YEARS AFTER KATRINA:

REMEMBERING LIKE IT WAS YESTERDAY

VAUGHN CULTURAL CENTER AT THE URBAN LEAGUE OF METROPOLITAN ST. LOUIS

The unwelcome arrival of Hurricane Katrina on August 29, 2005 was soon to become just the beginning of a horrifying story. In the days that followed, the world watched as our government “response” failed its own people and the flooding from the storm surge became the worst civil engineering disaster in U.S. history. The political and protective infrastructure of New Orleans fell apart, leaving thousands of people at the mercy of a flooded city. Fueled with enough sociopolitical content to last a lifetime, many artists near and far have created work responding to the devastation Katrina supplied.

The work of Joy L. Wade, Robert A. Ketchens, and Marilyn L. Robinson accompanied by the poetry of curator Freida Wheaton at the Vaughn Cultural Center provided a compelling review of that terrible time. Ketchens’ red and moody, Goya-esque painting, No Lagniappe for New Orleans, depicts Hurricane Katrina blowing in with the face of a skeleton and making landfall with a duncy Cyclops following shortly behind. Ketchens, who was born and raised in New Orleans, states that this mythical Cyclops is “representative of a branch of government that failed the people.” The careful details of symbolic and imagined imagery at the top of the painting are balanced at the bottom by a portrayal of Ketchens’ great, great-grandfather’s house and property. Shown half submerged in muddy floodwater, the house no longer stands in real-life.

The dark and fiery reds of the 7-foot tall painting are joined by a hot orange message in the lower left corner. This familiar, spray-painted hieroglyphic found on the exterior of homes, schools, and other

buildings throughout New Orleans, signaled the date a property was searched and how many were found dead or alive inside. In No Lagniappe for New Orleans, we find the date of the last official search, September 5, and how many were killed throughout the Gulf Coast: 1,833.

Joy Wade’s six mixed media panels illustrate the 2005 poem Refugee by exhibit curator Freida Wheaton. In The Land We Share, an insensitive expression on the face of a white guardsman combines with the silent scream and contorted faces of the black women barricaded near him.

These images, fit for LIFE magazine or CNN, are enough to make a stomach turn. This documentary quality triggers recollections of watching these scenes play out on television. In vignettes of acrylic paint and collage on panel, Wade illustrates images of our American people being treated as refugee livestock and manages to reach right in and refresh the collective memory of disgust, terror, and helplessness.

In The Dome, a monoprint of the Superdome is overlaid by a slightly stylized and chalky, acrylic painting of a man holding a baby and a blanket. This defeated and desperate portrait gives a face to the more than 14,000 people who were temporarily living in the Dome in abhorrent conditions during the New Orleans flooding. Wade places a butterfly alongside this scene, symbolizing metamorphosis and the “hope in everything.”

Photographs by Marilyn Robinson speckled the exhibition, documenting the hesitant re-growth of the nation’s Mardi Gras capitol. Robinson visits

Joy L. Wade, The Land We Share (photo credit: Richard Reilly) 09 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

IN REVIEW

Robert A. Ketchens, No Lagniappe for New Orleans (photo credit: Richard Reilly)

New Orleans every year and has observed the imbalanced comeback of areas like the French Quarter compared to the Lower Ninth Ward. Each bittersweet image of celebrations, musicians and historical houses carries the weight present when we all watched with bated breath to see if New Orleans would survive. Ten years, ten Mardi Gras, a failure

by FEMA, and a Brad Pitt project later, we see that New Orleans is alive and well. So is the memory of Hurricane Katrina.

-Amy Reidel

LAURENCIA STRAUSS:

THE FORGETTING AND THE REMEMBERING OF THE AIR

GRANITE CITY ART AND DESIGN DISTRICT

When I first set out for the Granite City Art and Design District’s first opening in July, I felt some apprehension. How could the often-conceptual, sometimes in-joke world of local contemporary art mesh with a working-class inner-ring industrial suburb whose downtown was in full decline? There are many histories unresolved in Granite City – the immigration that helped capitalists build industry, the city’s legacy of being the Metro East’s most notorious “sundown town,” the decline of the downtown and decades of air pollution.

Which of these histories would intersect with the quirky aims of the Granite City Art & Design District? Would residents of Granite City see any real connection between their lives and this implanted art world? The words of Roberta Bedoya came to mind: “Before you have places of belonging, you must feel you belong.”

There is no perfect way for art to belong to a community, or vice versa. The relationship is a complicated transaction, which one work at the Granite City Art and Design District opening strove to enact with fitting quirk. Artist Laurencia Strauss presented The Forgetting and the Remembering of the Air, which consisted at first view of a fleet of vintage tandem bicycles sporting sanguine windsocks (a warning system, perhaps?).

Already, the site of gleeful pairs of people engaged in the staccato movements of starting and braking broke through this writer’s anxiety about the place situation of the larger project. Here were people exploring, and roaming blocks of a downtown that most probably had never beheld before. Still, music volleyed from the VFW Hall across the street raised a question: where were the people of Granite City?

Strauss had the answer. She had spent weeks interviewing residents about the air of their city, which is famously dense with the scent of the massive United States Steel plant’s various emissions. The air of Granite City carries both the promise of prosperity and the threat of annihilation.

Conversations that Strauss recorded about the air lead back to the fragility of being human.

On the bicycles, these recordings were available through ear buds for the passenger to listen as the driver navigated. I jumped on a bike twice, playing both roles. Listening to residents talk about their city, the air quality and perceptions of health and happiness came close to mythic. The voices of Granite City residents could have been eternal voices, woven back through the steel town and into the times when the Six Mile Prairie – where the city stands – was a primitive place.

The streets of downtown Granite City hardly are active on a weekend night, with more shuttered storefronts than not. That is the condition that led to the rise of the art-play on State Street. That condition, sadly, could well reinforce an attitude about the city that it is something other than a place where thousands of people dwell. The emptiness could pose a frontier to the unfamiliar.

There is nothing wrong with a frontier, of course, when one gets to be the settler. Being the unexpected obstacle is no joy – and other voices fused with the deep prairie history still weep for past frontier episodes.

No one left Granite City that night thinking that it was an edge, unless they skipped over Strauss’s inventive investigation into the common act of breathing that has no edge, and no center. We all take in the air, and when we do this collectively – seen or unseen – we can find an awkward and uneven experience. Until we reach a rhythm, and then we belong to the wind. Together.

-Michael R. Allen

Laurencia Strauss, The Forgetting and the Remembering of the Air, (photo credit: Jessica Baran) IN REVIEW

WINTER 2015 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM 10

ONE PHOTOGRAPHER’S LENS ON MIDWEST ECONOMIES A

eled building in a field. The sign above the door reads Little Red School. A huge water tower with steel legs and cross-bracing stands next to the “schoolhouse.”

CONVERSATION WITH MARK APPLING FISHER BY

SARAH WEINMAN

Many of us might be tempted to consider small Midwestern towns as depressed or dying, but photographer Mark Appling Fisher sees them differently. “They aren’t abandoned or ghost towns, but quiet towns,” he explains. “People still live there.”

and Evans documented people living in poverty during the Depression. Fisher explains, “Evans photographed abandoned buildings and street scenes. He tried to tell the story of abject poverty.

That struck a chord with me.”

He continues, “I try to photograph in less traveled areas overlooked by passersby. Those places still have stories to tell.”

Another influence is author Alan Weisman. His book The World Without Us posits if humans disappeared tomorrow, how long before all traces of us would disappear?

Fisher, 66, lives in St. Charles and grew up in Montgomery City, Missouri. Respect and admiration for small towns runs deep in him. “My greatgrandfather was a doctor in Moselle, Missouri and my father was born there,” he says. “It had churches and stores. Now there are maybe 20 houses.”

The artist visits towns in Missouri and Illinois within a day’s drive from St. Louis and seeks subjects which strike him as incongruent (a one-room “schoolhouse”) or suffer from “lack of attention” (a once handsome, now boarded-up turn-of-the-century building).

Fisher says, “Weisman’s book partly inspired my show at The Sheldon Art Galleries: An Uncertain Present [June 5 – August 29, 2015].”

The photographs in this exhibition depicted the state of these communities with great sensitivity and empathy. The striking piece Little Red School – Curryville, Missouri features a one-room, red-pan-

The red building may actually be part of Curryville’s water-treatment facility; Fisher is unsure. He explains, “This seemed plucked right out of a ’50s science-fiction movie, where the rocket lands in the middle of town! Beyond that, the lawn and the building were kept up; someone cared a great deal for them.”

The starker and more poignant image Downtown Storefront – Cairo, Illinois portrays a three-story brick building with fading whitewash. Decorative arches enunciate each window. The ground floor, once a storefront, is boarded up, as are seven of the eight windows. “Downtown Cairo is almost completely gone,” says Fisher. “I see in the shell of that building what had to have been a vibrant community.”

He sums up his mission as an artist with the following statement: “My work is record-keeping and history-keeping. There are people’s lives, entire histories, where I photograph.”

“These communities need to be honored if only for their devotion to building something that didn’t last as they hoped,” he says.

Fisher’s selection process for towns is variable: “Sometimes I go in a direction I haven’t taken in a while. I’ll return to places if the light wasn’t right.

And I’m drawn back to towns with sad magic like Cairo, Illinois.”

He also returns to see if “former subjects” still stand, but many have been torn down. “I’m trying to photograph things before they go away,” he says.

Other structures, including private homes, have been left to fall apart. Fisher values these too: “I never go on private property without permission.

People lived their lives in these houses.”

Fisher believes he has a responsibility to chronicle a disappearing way of life. “Montgomery City, like many small towns, struggles to maintain relevance in a fast-paced world,” he explains. “My goal was to record everything as a memory repository.”

Photography and its storytelling aspect interested Fisher for many years before he studied it in depth.

He received his M.A. in black and white film photography in 1982 from Lindenwood University.

The completion of his M.A. required him to create a body of work, but he found difficulty in settling on a topic. Finally a friend suggested, “Photograph what you know.” For thirty days in September 1981 Fisher took pictures in his hometown of everything from buildings to church services and football games.

His choice of subjects reflects his artistic influences, including photographers Bill Owens and Walker Evans, and writer James Agee. Owens’ book Suburbia depicts 1970s American suburban life; in their book Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, Agee 11 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

Mark Appling Fisher, Downtown Storefront – Cairo, Illinois (courtesy of the artist) ARTIST INTERVIEWS

THE SCOOP ON SLEIN

A CONVERSATION WITH THE SAINT LOUIS GALLERIST BY The Philip Slein Gallery, which Slein runs with co-owner Tom Bussmann, associate Jim Schmidt, and director Gwen Unger, has received numerous accolades and was most recently voted Best Art Gallery by Riverfront Times readers in 2014. The gallery represents local and national artists with a focus on painters.

Slein met with Moog for a behind-the-scenes interview during installation for the exhibitions Structured: New Work by Ann Pibal and Todd Chilton and Katharine Kuharic: A Masque of Mercy, which were on view from October 2-31.

Molly Moog: When did you open the gallery?

Philip Slein: We opened in 2003 in a warehouse on Washington Avenue and we were there for two years before moving to a nearby street-level space. Artists were working and living downtown and the dynamic of the art economy was changing. Some major old-line galleries were closing and we saw an opportunity to open up a gallery.

In 2012 we moved to the Central West End. We thought it would be better for the business to be in a cluster of other shops and galleries. The move has been very positive for us. I want to be clear though, I love downtown! I have lived downtown for fifteen years and I still live there.

MM: What is the benefit of owning a gallery here versus in a bigger city?

PS: St. Louis has provided a lot of opportunities for me that I wouldn’t have in a city like Chicago, New York, or L.A. When we go to New York, we go to these beautiful galleries in Chelsea. They look not unlike this, maybe even on a grander scale, but their

MOLLY MOOG

rent is $40,000 to $50,000 a month. In the early days on Washington Avenue, we could start a gallery just on our own moxy and do a lot of the sweat equity to build it up.

MM: Considering the rise of online art sale platforms, what is the benefit of having a brick and mortar gallery?

PS: The benefit is that these galleries are incubators for artists and ideas. We have a kind of “salon” in here. People come in throughout the day. They sit down and we just talk, not necessarily even trying to sell anything.

MM: What characterizes the collecting community in St. Louis?

PS: People here tend to come to collecting a little bit later. One myth I would like to dispel is that you have to be extremely wealthy to be a collector. I’m not particularly wealthy and I collect ravenously.

Collecting opens up new avenues of learning and can be a means of personal growth. There’s this idea that if you’re a collector you’re a kind of Thurston Howell III [millionaire from the ‘60s tv series Gilligan’s Island]. However, it’s not necessarily the case.

MM: Can you tell me about the shows that you are currently installing?

PS: We are doing a two-person show of the work of Ann Pibal and Todd Chilton. Ann is a New York-based artist working in geometric abstraction.

We are juxtaposing her with Chicago-based artist Todd Chilton, who is also doing geometric work. His work is thickly painted; whereas, Ann’s work is very thinly painted, but they have a really wonderful dialogue together. The special projects space will

PERSPECTIVE ON COLLECTING AN INTERVIEW WITH JOHN HORSEMAN

BY Standing in his St. Louis office holding a small study

by Thomas Hart Benton, John Horseman considers the limited available space between an enchanting tempera painting by American Magic Realist painter Roger Medearis and a large, brooding oil painting by renowned Cleveland artist Carl Gaertner. “We’re running out of room,” he says, “but I guess that’s part of the disease.” St. Louis investment manager John Horseman is a passionate collector of 20th century American art, and the ideal person to elucidate the beguiling relationship between art and money.

Although Horseman’s background lies in political science and economics, a love of art impelled him to become a collector. For Horseman, collecting is

APRIL JOHNSTON

altogether separate from investing: “I wasn’t purchasing art to make money. I hope that if I ever needed to sell a painting, I would break even, with the return on those paintings being my enjoyment of having them and the satisfaction of building a collection from individual pieces into a cohesive whole.”

The collection is indeed cohesive, comprised of over 200 paintings narrating the multi-faceted story of early to mid-20th century painting in America. Artists Horseman collects range from the familiar, such as Thomas Hart Benton and Marsden Hartley, to artists important during their time but less recognizable today, like Honoré Sharrer and Jared French.

ARTIST INTERVIEWS

feature the work of New York-based artist Katharine Kuharic, who is known for her realist paintings, often with a social message. These particular works are nature-based She has drawn and painted these incredibly detailed canvases with an all-over patterning of leaves, flowers, vines, birds, and butterflies.

MM: What qualities do you look for in the work of an artist that you would like to represent?

PS: It’s really on a case-by-case basis. I’ve always been relatively confident in what I like. I think it comes from having looked at so much art in my life.

Jim, Tom, and I work as a team and we’re broad-based in the style of work we select. We love landscape. We love figure painting. Currently, we are exhibiting mostly abstract painting, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love all different sorts of things. I’m also into craftsmanship. Even if the painting is very gestural, I want to know that it’s well-constructed.

How does the back look? Does it lay flat to the wall?

That kind of thing is really important.

MM: I know lots of young artists in St. Louis trying to reach a broader audience. Are there any pitfalls young artists should avoid?

PS: My advice for young artists is to really take time to hone their craft. Don’t be too desperate to get into a gallery. The galleries will fall into line when the work is ready. One mistake I see a lot of artists making is trying to put the cart before the horse.

They’re trying to get the gallery but the work isn’t ready yet. It’s hard to know this when you’re young, because you’ve only ever been young.

Artists also have to understand that it’s not about becoming famous or rich. You have to enjoy solitude.

There has to be a fulfillment in just making work. You love the smell of oil paint, for example. You like making the thing. Every artist wants attention and if it comes, great, but attention can also be fleeting.

There is this sort of skewed thing on “young artists, get’em right out of grad school!” Well, you can’t say painting without saying pain. You’ve got to have some life experiences.

Horseman has a particular interest in artists—many working during the Great Depression or in response to the world wars—who use the styles of social realism and magic realism to address issues of economic and social unrest. Considering these specific themes, I asked Horseman’s opinion about the broader relationship between the realms of investing and art. His answer was swift and simple: “You can’t equate art and money.”

Horseman said that compared to the stock market, the art market remains impossible to predict. “You have to buy what you love. Art is a matter of personal taste, so you have to assume that you might be the last person who ever owns a work.”

“Mistakes in collecting can be costly,” said Horseman, who counts a network of dealers, gallerists, and museum curators amongst his most valuable collecting resources. However, he recommends that even new collectors seek out knowledgeable professionals, noting that “most people like to help others with their knowledge and expertise,” adding, “If I had it to do all over again I WINTER 2015 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM 12

would have probably attained more knowledge, seeking guidance from museum professionals earlier and more often.”

Horseman advises art lovers to buy carefully, determining a budget and buying accordingly.

However, he then admits that it is the “pathology” of the collector to occasionally deviate from the budget under special circumstances, quoting a dealer who said that if a buyer doesn’t occasionally experience financial distress, they aren’t truly collecting.

small factor. The reward of collecting is in the time spent pursuing, viewing, and studying art; the collector’s ultimate gain is extraordinary access to the past and insight to the future. Priceless.

Thinking of art as a glamorous yet stable investment, I proposed that if an investor sought to flip an asset, purchasing art might be a wise move.

“That would be foolish,” he counters. “Investment has to be completely secondary to the love of art and the love of collecting. Anyone who will tell you that you can g o out and invest in art, purely from an investment perspective, is a charlatan.”

Horseman is emphatic that the reward of collecting lies in the story artwork tells. As an example he draws my attention to his Thomas Hart Benton study and notes: “that was so controversial in its day that it was nearly shouted out of an exhibition in Chicago because it had the audacity to show an African American couple holding hands, in love, in the 1930s.” Art, Horseman said, “is a way of expressing feelings and thoughts on what’s going on. Art is to challenge. It is real people making real responses to current events.”

“Without a knowledge of history,” he said, “there is no chance of understanding the present or knowing how to anticipate the future.” Therein lies art’s value.

In assessing the cost of loving art, money becomes a

Roger Medearis, The Farmer Takes a Wife, (courtesy of the John and Susan Horseman Collection of American Art)

PAINTER PAYING IT FORWARD JENNA BAUER AND THE DELAYED COMPENSATION OF ARTS BY

EILEEN G’SELL

“I’ve always wanted to preach what I practice,” says Jenna Bauer in the café at the downtown Public Library. “Which is why I’ve always tried to be confident talking about myself as a teacher. But it’s also about the balance of being appreciated as a painter and not pigeon-holed as a teacher.”

Bauer is a painter, a recognized one at that, with frequent exhibitions in St. Louis, gallery representation in the Hudson Valley, and a growing regional and national audience. And as an artist, an important part of her practice extends to the art of teaching others. Whether as founder of SCOSaG (South City Open Studio and Gallery, currently ArtScope) following her BFA from Webster, or through Colorbridge, her most recent project dedicated to lessons in “the art of MAKING art,” Bauer sees teaching as “a canvas of its own.”

Jenna Bauer with student (image courtesy of Jenna Bauer)

13 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

“When I’m teaching, I get in a zone, similar to swinging on the monkey bars: rung-to-rung in a linear way, but smoothly sailing across all the playground equipment if that is what it takes. It is very different than being in the zone of making a painting, but is still such an exciting place to be.”

ARTIST INTERVIEWS

Launched in 2014, Colorbridge offers personalized, affordable lessons for groups and individuals of all ages, following the credo, “Familiarity and fluency with concepts of art create the foundation for confidence, communication, problem solving, and expression.” As a term, “Colorbridge” alludes to the classic Pantone palette guide, but also to the way in which art can serve to unite people across diverse identities and backgrounds. Bauer is passionate about this vision, and how it has shaped her practice for over a decade.

“What I love is the delayed and (non-monetary) compensation of hearing about how a former student is doing, how their interaction with an artist or teacher or environment has changed their life,” she says. “Artist Khalil Irving, for example, is now back at Wash U, doing great things. Years ago there were times he was riding his bike from the Tower Grove South area all the way to the Potter’s Workshop in Forest Park Southeast to take classes.

Knowing that he is alive and well and powerful and positive and talented makes the challenges of operating a not-for-profit [SCOSaG] all worth it.”

The postcard Bauer designed for Colorbridge features the image of a “bridge” arranged out of multicolored chalk—chalk that the artist discovered in her grandfather’s basement after returning to St. Louis following six years in New York. The chalk, still functional, is fifty years old—reminding one, at the material level, of the potential for the past in the hands of posterity, a delayed compensation from the end of a stick of orange or sky blue.

INTERVIEW WITH ZLATKO ĆOSIĆ

by Semilla Bland (English to Bosnian translation by Elvir Mandzukic) Semilla Bland interviewed Zlatko Ćosić, whose recent installations include Harmony in 3 at Laumeier Sculpture Park, South Slavic Requiem at Bruno David Gallery and a projection on the north-facing wall of the Renaissance Hotel.

Semilla Bland: We started the interview with a look into Zlatko Ćosić’s background and how it is reflected in his art. Born in Banja Luka, Yugoslavia, Ćosić experienced the Bosnian War firsthand.

Zlatko Ćosić: The war experience and immigration inspired certain aspects of my artwork. In December 1994, I escaped the war in Bosnia and moved to Belgrade. I had to change my name, and with that new identity I successfully crossed the war zone and spent three years living in Belgrade. I was involved in filmmaking and studied computer science. That’s where the war experience comes in as an art theme.

My experiences triggered many ideas and art was an approach for me to share the stories, to communicate. In 1997, I moved to St. Louis and I’ve been here since.

SB: South Slavic Requiem addresses themes of discrimination, be it religious, nationalist, racial, etc.

What is the role of art in healing political divisions?

ZĆ: For me, art creates a dialogue, a communication of sorts. In the beginning, it helped me understand what was going on. I share artwork and hope to invoke an emotional response. I expect the audience to then share their experience and educate their family and friends. Embrace the differences among people instead of discriminating others because they’re different. The possibility for reconciliation and forgiving, that’s true artwork.

SB: Harmony in 3 focuses on the physical landscape of the park and the labor that maintains it. Does location play a role in any of your other work?

ZĆ: Location is crucial in my work. South Slavic Requiem wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t ended up on this isolated piece of land beneath the Dinara Mountain, close to the boarder of Croatia and Bosnia. While filming inside an Orthodox Christian church, I heard the sound of a flute coming through the window. The sound drew me in and I knew there was a story there.

When I found the musician, he was afraid of who I might be until I said, “I don’t belong to any of those groups; Serbian, Bosnian, Croatian, Muslim, none! I don’t believe in that.” He said, “Oh, you’re nothing!” and welcomed me in. If you belong to a national,

political or religious group, you’re automatically judged. He’d rather have nothing than opposition.

He liked that I was neutral and the sound of his flute became the soundtrack for South Slavic Requiem.

SB: In particular, what role has St. Louis played in your creative process?

ZĆ: I like the space here. I like how wide it is, it helps me think better, and relaxes my mind. I like the cost of living because I can keep teaching my classes and I also have plenty of time for my artwork. Socially and culturally, I do like the international community. I can learn a lot from it. If you move from North to South there are social and economic differences and problems. I reflect upon current social and political issues to incorporate in my work. St. Louis inspires me to make a change.

SB: If people could take away any one message after viewing your work, what would you like it be?

ZĆ: For anyone, I would say, focus on positive energy. Embrace differences and communicate. My artwork is a starting point, that’s how I communicate.

For people from the former Yugoslavia in particular, don’t forget your culture and customs. Help your community. Get involved in art; you don’t have to make art but you can at least appreciate art and support local artists. Share experiences and teach your kids, don’t keep it inside.

Zlatko Ćosić + Ashley McQueen, stills of Harmony in 3 (courtesy of the artist)

Semilla Bland je razgovarala sa Zlatkom Ćosićem, čiji je nedavne postavke uključuju Harmonija u Troje u Parku Skulptura Laumeier, Južnoslovenski Requiem u Galeriji Bruno David i projekciju na sjeverni zid Renaissance hotela.

Semilla Bland: Počeli smo razgovor sa osvrtom na proslost Zlatka Ćosića i kako se ona ogleda u njegovoj umjetnosti. Rođen u Banja Luci, Jugoslavija, Ćosić je iskusio bosanski rat iz prve ruke.

Zlatko Ćosić: Iskustvo rata i imigracija inspirisali su određene aspekte moj rada. U decembru 1994. godine, izbjegao sam rat u Bosni i preselio se u Beograd. Morao sam promijeniti moje ime, i uz taj novi identitet sam uspješno prešao ratnu zonu i proveo tri godine života u Beogradu. Ja sam se uključio u filmsku produkciju i studirao informatiku.

Od toga zapravo moje ratno iskustvo dolazi kao tema umjetnosti. Moja iskustva zaprela su mnoge ideje i umjetnost je bila jedan pristup za mene da podijelim priče, da komuniciram. Godine 1997, preselio sam se u St. Louis gdje zivim i sada.

SB: Južnoslavenski Requiem bavi se temama diskriminacije, bilo da su to vjerske, nacionalističke, rasne, itd. Koja je uloga umjetnosti u izliječenju političke podjele?

ZC: Za mene, umjetnost stvara dijalog, jednu vrstu komunikacije. U početku, to mi je pomoglo da shvatim šta se dešava. Dijelim umjetnicki rad i nadam se da poziva na emocionalni odgovor. Očekujem od publike da onda podijeli svoje iskustvo i obrazuju njene roditelje i prijatelje. Prigrli razlike među ljudima umjesto diskriminacije drugih zato što su drugačiji.

Mogućnost za pomirenje i opraštanje, to je istinski umjetnički rad.

SB: Harmona u 3-roje fokusira se na fizički krajolik parka i na rad koji ga održava. Da li lokacija igra ulogu u bilo kojem od vaših drugih radova?

ZC: Lokacija je ključna u mom radu. Južnoslavenskim Requiem ne bi postojao da nisam završio na ovom izolovanom komadu zemlje ispod planine Dinare, u neposrednoj blizini granice Hrvatske i Bosne. Dok sam snimao unutar jedne pravoslavne crkve, čuo sam zvuk flaute kako dolazi kroz jedan prozor. Zvuk me je privukao u i znao sam da tu ima jedna priča. Kada COMMUNITY VOICES

sam pronašao muzičara, on se bojao ko bih mogao biti ja dok nisam rekao, "Ja ne pripada nijednoj od tih grupa; srpski, bosanski, hrvatski, muslimanski, niti jednoj! Ja ne vjerujem u to.” On je rekao," O, ti si ništa! "I pozvao me da udjem. Ako pripadate nacionalnoj, političkoj ili vjerskoj grupi, vi ste automatski osudjivani. On bi radije da nema ništa nego opoziciju. Dopalo mu se je što sam bio neutralan i zvuk njegove flaute je postao muzicka tema filma Južnoslavenski Requiem.

SB: Posebito, kakvu je ulogu odigrao St. Louis u vašem kreativnom procesu?

ZC: Volim prostor ovdje. Sviđa mi se kako je širok, pomaže mi da bolje razmišljam, i opušta moj um.

Dopada mi se cijena troškova života, jer mogu nastaviti držati nastavu, moje casove i ja takodjer imam dovoljno vremena za umjetnički rad. Socijalno i kulturno, ja volim međunarodnu zajednicu. Ja mogu mnogo naučiti od nje. Ako se krećete od sjevera do juga postoje socijalne i ekonomske razlike i problemi.

I razmisljam o aktuelnim društvenim i političkim pitanjima da bih ih ugradio u moj radu. St. Louis me inspiriše da radim na promjeni.

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SB: Ako ljudi mogli preuzeti bilo koju poruku poslije sagledanja vaseg rada, što biste željeli da ona bude?

ZC: Za bilo koga, rekao bih, fokusirati se na pozitivnu energiju. Prigrlite razlike i komunicirajte. Moj umjetnicki rad je polazište, to je kako ja sam komuniciram. Za ljude iz bivše Jugoslavije, posebno, ne zaboravite vasu kulturu i običaje. Pomozite vašu zajednici. Uključite se u umjetnost; ne morate stvarati umjetnost, ali barem možete cijeniti umjetnost i pruziti podršku lokalnim umjetnicima. Razmjenite iskustva i učite svoju djecu, ne drži ih unutar sebe.

Zlatko Ćosić, Stills of South Slavic Requiem (courtesy of the artist)

ART ABOUT MONEY Sarah Hermes Griesbach

St. Louis area artists are canaries in the coalmine of our economy. They are truth-tellers and cultural oracles. All the Art put out a call for artists to offer images of their work that comments on our economy in any way that they might interpret it. Carrie Gillen, Kiarra Lynn Smith and Zack Smithey offer their artworks as insight.

Carrie Gillen describes 1234 Shady Valley Lane, a large-scale sculptural work installed on the Southern Illinois University Edwardsville campus.

In the late 1990’s and early 2000’s the housing market seemed to be a fail-proof means for investing one’s money. Financial institutions were

granting imprudent subprime mortgages and for many the dream of owning a home finally became tangible. When the U.S. entered the Great Recession, the burst of the housing bubble threw financial institutions into crisis and homeowners could no longer afford the interest on their loans. All around the U.S. are new neighborhoods that were only partially erected before the market crashed.

Some of these homes remain unlived in to this day.

The houses abandoned in these developments exist as present day relics of the “American Dream.” This ideal and its connection to homeownership nurtured the “irrational exuberance” of the housing market. A byproduct of these investor assumptions was the

over-production of the cul de sac home, a conformist prototype unfeasible for many.

1234 Shady Valley Lane is a dystopian critique of post-WWII suburban sprawl, and the “sameness” embodied in our idealized version of middle class success. Despite the socio-economic and cultural exclusivity of these types of homes, be it the 50’s Ranch or the contemporary McMansion, the aesthetic conformity persists. 1234 Shady Valley Lane is a representation of the distortion existing within these conformist building tendencies. By altering the home’s normative exterior and emphasizing its relationship to the environment, I hope to question the forces that dictate our methods of building. Perhaps distorting the form will release the architecture’s potential to inspire some sort of civic responsibility or collective discourse, rather than standing simply as a symbol of personal affluence.

Carrie Gillen, 1234 Shady Valley Lane (photo credit: Carly Anne Faye) 15 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

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the North Side, a part of town which has been economically stripped); yet while riding the blue line (which heads to the affluent part of town), many would be in transit for nearly two hours to work in a prosperous environment but not to live. As developers build their empires with renovations to downtown and parts of St. Louis where people of African descent have been driven out, homeless individuals and those in shaky financial situations are moved like pawns to be out of sight and mind. As select groups are deleted from the city's vision only to be replaced by baseball and posh riverfronts, Red Line/Blue Line is merely an infection in a great American wound.

mously donate unlimited sums of money to elect the officials that will sympathize with their desires to be more profitable at the expense of the working-class creating an ever-widening gap of income inequality. The working-class mother and father, drawn from the perspective of their children that don't understand the Political Party, are buried under symbols of decadence, their voices drowned out by money and power.

We use our power to vote for the man who hides his true intentions under a smile... and the Political Party continues.

Zack Smithey describes the message behind his Political Party: State of the Union series.

Kiarra Lynn Smith Red Line – Blue Line (courtesy of the artist)

Kiarra Lynn Smith describes her painting Red Line/Blue Line.

Red Line/Blue Line is a piece inspired by the work of Aboriginal artist Robert Campbell Jr., whose paintings portrayed the racial divisions in his home continent, Australia. This piece reflects the economic divide between classes and races in the city of St. Louis. Often while riding the train, I noticed that a majority of people of African descent would exit the train on the Red Line (which heads to

In art, symbolism is often subtle or hidden. It's something that the audience has to search for and decipher in order understand the underlying theme.

In Political Party, I wanted to be blunt with the symbolism. Actually, every element in the piece is a symbol.

The composition uses formal balance symbolizing power, stability and strength. Both the layout and the green/gold color scheme emulate printed money, which uses formal balance for the same reason. The golden ornamental design and tokens represent luxurious self-indulgence. The politician sits on his thrown while the constitution on toilet paper goes down the drain. With the passing of Citizens United and creation of Super PACs, corporations and wealthy individuals can anony-

Political Party: State of the Union series (courtesy of the artist and Miss Aimee B’s Tea Room & Gallery)

ECONOMY AS ART Sarah Hermes Griesbach

In Gallery 208 of the Saint Louis Art Museum sits a small but mighty coin. It is a 1.9 cm gold Byzantine “Solidus” minted under Emperor Justinian II in the 7th Century. The value of this object obviously lies in its age and its provenance (where it comes from).

Added historical value comes from the images depicted on either side. The bearded Pantokrator (Ruler of All) featured is not the Roman God Jupiter previously found on regional currency, but a Christ figure. On the reverse side, a smaller emperor Justinian is noted as “servant of Christ.”

Remember, you will find this coin in an internationally renowned ART museum. What makes this object art? Not every artifact is also art, but cultural production that tells important stories of our lives, such as this first known coin to feature Jesus Christ, is significant beyond mere recordkeeping.

Money is not just a useful convention to exchange goods. It is a means of expression. What is important to us? What do we value? The answer is not just what we spend our money on but also what we put on our money. This is obvious to the masses of people who are currently campaigning to put a new face on the $20 bill to replace Andrew Jackson.

The effort has resonated with many, while sparking interesting new conversations around who and what we value.

First, the – “Who should be removed?” discussion began with a seemingly unanimous outpouring of interest in removing the president most famous for his participation in our Native American genocide, Andrew Jackson. Then, the -“Who should we replace him with?” part of the debate became interesting as the prospect of a gloriously strong black female leader such as Sojourner Truth hit against anti-capitalist sentiment. Truth admirers suggested she would not consider the placement an honor. After all, Sojourner Truth’s efforts to free her people in America are not reflected in the economic disparity of our country today.

Leave it to artists to dissect the role of money in our lives so thoroughly that they end up inventing something new. Artists are often the first to consider alternative economic structures – cooperative work/live/teach situations, barter deals and mutual credit systems through which help leads to help.

St. Louis boasts an organization on the cutting edge of compensation. The Cowry Collective is a “unique timebank.” The name reflects the ancient practice of exchanging cowry shells as currency. The Cowry Collective timebank functions as an alternative economy. It is a network of people engaged in reciprocal exchanges of services, skills and goods.

One hour equals one cowry.

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In St. Louis, numismatists (people who study currency) can visit the Newman Money Museum in the Mildred Lane Kemper Art Museum at Washington University. The currency collection comes from the collection of Eric Newman and his late wife, Evelyn Newman. Evelyn died this past September after a remarkable lifetime of adventure and the kind of philanthropy that results in life change (most notably through her founding of the ScholarShop).

After visiting the Newman’s currency collection, the true money enthusiast can go downtown to visit our own Economy Museum inside the Federal Reserve Bank at the corner of Broadway and Locust. There you can buy umbrellas and magnets just like in the gift shop of any other cultural object museum/business. The (free) shredded money souvenir is like Felix Gonzalez-Torres “Untitled” Portrait of Ross in L.A. in that you take small items away from the experience, but then, not like that at all.

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WHAT INSPIRES AN ARTIST? Toda esta conversación ante el proceso creativo del artista ha invadido mi curiosidad y es una idea constante en mi mente cada vez que me encuentro ante una pintura, escultura o cualquier otra expresión artística. Siendo docente el Museo de Arte de St. Louis, lo cual considero un privilegio, ya que esta educación me ha servido para apreciar, entender y admirar a través de ojos creativos el arte en sus diversas manifestaciones. Sobretodo viniendo en mi caso, de una persona la cual no tenia una educación formal en arte, aunque siempre he sentido un apreciación especial hacia cualquier expresión artística desde arte prehispánico hasta arte contemporáneo.

además de pasar un buen rato entre buenas amigas.

Pero he de admitir que lo que mas disfrute fue sentarnos a la mesa papel en mano con diversos materiales a nuestro alrededor para crear un collage, confieso que mi inspiración en ese momento era casi inexistente, ideas pasaban y como que no se afianzaban en mi mente totalmente. Y me preguntaba, Como empezar?, Que construir a partir de nada?. Será que cada persona necesita una motivación diferente o depende del estado de animo de cada uno. A raíz de esta interrogante pregunte a una de mis amigas que la motivaba, que sentía que era su fuente de inspiración, a lo que ella me contesto: “Yo creo que me inspiran elementos externos que voy viendo. Observo lugares o detalles a mi alrededor y los interpreto con mi propia visión.

Ejemplo: la combinación de colores turquesa y verde con lo que inicie mi collage los traigo en mente desde que viaje en avión y vi el mar con esa mezcla de colores que iban cambiando a medida que iba avanzando el avión. Después de mi viaje voy encontrando esos mismos colores en telas, papel, muebles, etc.…y finalmente lo expreso a mi manera”.

Volviendo al tema del proceso artístico y la inspiración, semanas atrás fui invitada a una reunión entre amigas, dos o tres de ellas personas creativas y con educación en pintura, el motivo de dicha reunión era la de crear, convivir e intercambiar ideas,

Creo entonces que el tema de la inspiración en el proceso creativo es sujeto a muchos aspectos, suena interesante que el formar un grupo donde se intercambien ideas no es algo nuevo, cada escuela o corriente artística se ha creado a raíz de la

Gloria Woodcock

Gloria Woodcock asks the question: “What inspires an artist to transform ordinary materials into art?”

Que o quien inspira a un artista a pintar o a transformar materiales comunes en obras de arte?

“It is not the language of painters but the language of nature which one should listen to, the feeling for the things themselves, for reality is more important than the feeling for pictures.” Vincent Van Gogh.

Personalmente creo que un artista, del genero que sea, es inspirado por agentes internos o externos a el. Pueden ser inspirados por la naturaleza, por lo que lo rodea a diario, por musica, viajes, paisajes u emociones. El sin numero de elementos es variado, sin embargo el proceso creativo es mas emocional dependiendo del estado de animo a que el artista esta sujeto en ese momento de su vida.

Ideas creativas algunas veces vienen de la nada, cuando el artista menos lo espera. Sabe que en cualquier momento puede encontrarse ante la idea o aquel elemento que sea el adecuado para crear o

iniciar el proceso creativo que lo llevara a plasmar en el canvas u en algún otro medio o material lo que su instinto creativo lo lleve a consumar.

Gloria Woodcock Collage (courtesy of the artist) 17 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

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aportación y apoyo intelectual de personas con un fin común, en este caso el arte, de este modo se han gestado movimientos artísticos únicos como el Impresionismo.

Finalmente me gustaría concluir con una breve platica que tuve con mi hijo de 11 anos durante el almuerzo. Siguiendo con el tema de la inspiración y sabiendo lo mucho que el disfruta pintar, le hice la misma pregunta, que cosa lo inspiraba en su clase de arte en la escuela a lo que el me respondió: “Solo

pintamos lo que la maestra nos dice”, lo que me hizo pensar que hoy en dia las escuelas tienen un programa académico a seguir en el cual no incluye algunas veces crear libre e individualmente, creo que esto es erróneo ya que en cada alumno puede encontrarse un artista cuyo potencial se ve disminuido al no permitirle expresarse libremente.

Se que cada maestro de arte trata de ensenar las técnicas y estilos propios de cada corriente artística por lo que no hay mucho espacio para la creatividad independiente.

THE FINE ART OF APPRAISALS Dana Gray There are taboos regarding the commercialization of art objects. A café or wine shop may put the price of the art work displayed on the wall right there for all to see. Some galleries will print an exhibition guide with prices included and mark the sold items with a red dot on the wall. But, most art going experiences will not involve conversations about the cost of the artwork. Museums use euphemisms to describe buying and selling transactions. Museums don’t purchase a painting.

They make “acquisitions,” or “deaquisition” (it’s used as a verb) objects from their collection. Those who make these choices, curators and collectors, are sometimes referred to as cultural “taste makers,” a role that is anything but trivial. To be an art dealer is to determine the monetary value of something supremely subjective and convince an art buyer that the quantification of the object’s value is reasonable.

Appraisals are an intersection of money and art. The appraisal process for a work of art, or any personal property, follows a standardized process similar to valuation of real property. We all live somewhere, pay rent or a mortgage, and utilize comparables when determining a reasonable value for our living space. Assess the location, square feet, number of beds and baths, quality of finishes and condition.

Then you review properties matching this criteria and compare prices within an appropriate market.

Dana Gray provides a peek into the interactions in which art and money intersect:

Consideration must be given to the type of value.

The two types of values used most often in my appraisal practice are Fair Market Value and Retail

This same process is utilized for art. Some of the characteristics considered are the artist, the media, date, subject, dimensions, exhibitions and/or publications, provenance, and condition.

The appraised object is compared with similar objects within an appropriate market to determine the value.

LOCAL ART AND MONEY Thomas Park

In August 2015, I was honored to participate in the AltArt Fair at the Koken Art Factory. I had really just begun to work hard at my visual art, and this was my first art fair. I spoke with the facilitator of the event, and she shared some of the ups and downs of the event's history, and mentioned her struggle to promote the outsider art scene in St. Louis. As I brought my paintings to the Koken Art Factory, I thought about how fortunate I was to be involved with such an event and how, year to year, there are no guarantees events like these might happen.

I often tell people, including guests I spoke with at the fair, that I am not primarily involved with painting for financial reasons. Like many, I really should be. My wife and I get on ok, but we are not affluent by any stretch, and there are many things we would like to do that more money would allow.

Spending two days at the fair, mingling with guests and other artists, reinforced my notion that art for money is not the choice for me.

There were several organizations that specialize in promoting art for developmentally or otherwise disabled people. Regarding their art-- some of it was quite good, and it definitely fit in with the "intuitive art" theme of the fair. Their presence also changed the flavor of the event-- for the better, generally. It made me feel that the AltArt Fair pulls people together with different backgrounds and situations and accepts them.

Quite an interesting group it was, and all whom I spoke with were pleasant, at least. From the woman who portrays predominantly chickens, to the man who does wall sculptures with metal strips, to the local folk art gallery, the groups of disabled artists, old timers on the scene-- I really got the impression that this type of art brings people together, and that these different people get along well, cooperate together. We were certainly very able to share a space, and I never felt that my art, myself, or any of my belongings were at risk. To me that says a lot.

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Pienso que es una cuestión a debatir sobretodo porque en tiempos actuales los niños viven bombardeados de tecnología que los limita buscar y crear.

Mi pensamiento final es dejarlos con la idea de buscar cada dia algo que nos invite a crear o simplemente que nos inspire seamos o no artistas, vivamos cada dia con las ganas de sentirnos asombrados antes las cosas que nos rodean.

Replacement Value. Fair Market Value is often used for IRS purposes and Retail Replacement Value is used for insurance. Those values are defined as: Fair Market Value as defined by IRS Section 1.170 and 20.2031 (b) is “the price at which the property would change hands between a willing buyer and a willing seller, neither being under any compulsion to buy or to sell and both having a reasonable knowledge of relevant facts.”

“Retail Replacement Value is defined as the highest amount in terms of US dollars that would be required to replace a property with another of similar age, quality, origin, appearance, provenance, and condition within a reasonable length of time in an appropriate and relevant market. When applicable, sales and / or import tax, commissions and / or premiums are included in this amount.”

(NYU Appraisal Studies Program Definition) The market determines value in an appraisal.

Dana Gray, Fine Art Appraiser Dana Gray & Associates LLC

But what about the economics? Very little was sold at the fair. There was one artist who sold quite a bit-- most of his stuff. The disability organizations kept a nice business going. Folks like me tended not to sell or to sell very little. This is by no means a reflection on the event itself or its planners. There was a nice flow of guests through most of the event, and plenty of people stopped by.

But there was a sense that people really are not buying much art-- whether they can't afford it, or do not have the need, or for whatever reason. That goes for outsider events like the AltArt Fair, as well as for leading-edge galleries such as the one I visited in the Loop, where the established proprietor shared that a recent and well-promoted reception attracted only a handful of people, those being mainly relatives.

As a new artist to the scene, that gives me pause.

The St. Louis art scene is indeed vibrant, in that there is a great network of intriguing people involved. Financially, I fear that it is struggling, as post-recession wallets and a general apathy or lack of need inhibits local people from purchasing works of art. So-- I ask myself again-- why am I doing this?

Is it for the money, or for other reasons?

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ON SELLING OUT Chelsea Ritter-Soronen At this moment, I want you to acknowledge your passion-- the activity that grants you more purpose than anything else in the world. What is it? What if someone wandered into your life tomorrow, and offered you a gigantic check to pursue that passion full-time? This magical person has acknowledged your talent and potential and expresses their belief in you. This one-time gig is the rarest opportunity, and could be the launching point for an entire lifetime of contributing your passions to the world.

You know that by agreeing to accept this person’s money, you will not only be capable of paying rent and bills for a few months, but you can finally afford your dream vacation and say goodbye to student loan residue.

There’s one stipulation to the gig: you must be a public ambassador for the company that is paying you. Whether you are a musician, painter, or chef, you must wear the logo representative of the massive corporation that actually has the money to pay you. Photos of you working on your craft will be included in their social media, and their boardmembers will be able to use your success as an example of how charitable and “forward-thinking” they are.

When media approaches you, you must spout off current slogans of their marketing campaign.

Would you do it? Would you accept corporate sponsorship to do what you love?

Recently in St. Louis, we have experienced the subtle infiltration of Philips66’s #66Reasons campaign. The marketing push has the same overall goal of any gas company’s advertising shticks – to drive gas-guzzling citizens to their filling stations and away from their competitors. But their tactics are different. With a generation of consumers who support small businesses, freelancers, and local

sustainability, Philips66 has offered dozens of St. Louis artists the opportunity to be compensated for their creative efforts in exchange for promotion of their brand. By asking bloggers, painters, and photographers we trust to tag their social media #66ReasonsSTL, Philips66 seems to believe that I (as an arts-conscious 20-something car driver) will cozy up to their brand and thank them for being part of my city.

While I don’t give a shit where I buy gas from (the entire industry and system is corrupt), I’m not buying their implications that St. Louis is cool because Philips66 is cool. This has caused immense controversy within our community, and rightfully so.

I wish more corporate marketing campaigns sparked this dialogue. However, we need to eliminate one phrase from this conversation: sell-out.

Stop it with your overuse of the phrase sell-out.

Please. For the love of everything Creative.

STOP. NOW. Selling out refers to people that abandon their personal belief systems to make money. Those that are making money for doing what they love is the ultimate life-hack, and we should be applauding any athlete, musician, or fine artist that accomplishes this challenging task. Though I am not the recipient of a Philips66 check, I most certainly have been on the receiving end of those labeling me a sell-out. It hurts, and it stems from a total misunderstanding and lack of communication between artists and viewers.

It’s important to push for more corporate funding for the arts. In this city, we need it. And there is nothing more satisfying than being at a table of corporate executives while representing my company, Chalk Riot, and hearing a resounding agreement that yes, public art IS important. I’m working from the inside-out to get more public arts funding for this city. And it’s easier for me to ask for $10,000 from a corporation at an hour-long meeting, than burn the midnight oil writing grants

Liza Fishbone and Robert Fishbone, 66 Reasons to Love St. Louis (photo credit: Richard Reilly) 19 ALLTHEARTSTL.COM WINTER 2015

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for $3000 that I may or may not be rewarded. I’m a strong businesswoman capable of earning money for public art by negotiating with corporate executives. And I do it because I believe that chalk art is a segue to establishing more permanent public art installations. I don’t do it because I’m selling out.

I’m not sacrificing, I’m building.

If arts nonprofit foundations did not accept corporate donations, they would cease to exist. All of our free and accessible arts establishments in St. Louis receive major funding from corporations.

The Saint Louis Art Museum accepts donations from Peabody, Monsanto, Arch Coal, and ExpressScripts, just to name a few. With the billions these corporations rake in annually while they take up space in OUR city, not only should we want their money in the arts, but we should want MORE of it!

If you’re not okay with Philips66 infiltrating your Instagram feed, then go to the top. Think like any anti-corporate campaigner and take the time to creatively initiate discussions with employees and executives, and have specific demands backed by thorough research and thousands of signatures. If anything, we should be demanding Philips66 start paying for bike lanes and halt harmful drilling practices. But the most ineffective waste of energy is to attack the artists who pursued the opportunity to practice their craft and promote themselves.

They are the ones that a skilled marketing team recognized as important to St. Louis. Kudos, Philips66 artists! That is AWESOME. That huge mural on the KDHX building is one of the greatest artistic contributions that St. Louis has seen in a while, and it just happens to have a small Philips66 logo on it. So what? I hope this mural leads to others, because we all know how many blank walls we have in St. Louis. It is proven that public art has the power to increase tourism, empower communities, and encourage growth of local businesses. To cover those walls with the beautiful art our city deserves takes serious cash – cash that corporations have to spare. Let’s continue to reclaim that dirty oil money and turn it into art we need.

HUSTLE & FLOW LIKE VINCENT VAN GOGH

AN ARTIST MOM’S MUSINGS ON HOW TO SUPPORT AN ART CAREER

Megan Rieke “Starving Artist” is an expression most people are familiar with, but artists do not literally have to starve themselves for their art. Rather, artists are starving to explore their art and to continue to create. Most of us, therefore, have a side job to support our art careers. I’m lucky that my husband sustains our basic needs but, with our three growing boys all in school, I have to start earning money which is hard as a creative because there’s no guarantee I will sell paintings. But I’ve come too far to stop now. So, I’ve begun to hustle which simply means: “Make some money so I can keep painting.”

Here are my hustling guidelines:

Megan Rieke, I hear ya, Sisyphus. I hear ya. (courtesy of the artist)

1. Say yes to cash. If someone offers to pay you for a product or service - no matter what it is (well almost)- say yes! I have cleaned and painted houses, written resumes, transcribed tapes, typed documents, painted pumpkins and wine glasses, and I’ve even taught step aerobics, to earn a buck when I wasn’t selling art. Some of these jobs paid in lump sums which calculated to less than minimum wage.

Some of them were so dull they made me cry. But it was money in my account and I could keep creating!

2. Set realistic monetary goals. Sit down and figure out what you ideally would like to bring in each week. Sometimes just an extra $200 per week helps, other times of the year (holidays! birthdays!) I have to try to hustle for a little more. Okay, a lot more.

3. Reevaluate your goals. Even though hustling is supposed to give me time and money to keep painting, it is also exhausting. For the past six weeks, I’ve only created three new paintings but I’ve made a couple of bucks. This is the exact scenario I want to avoid because I’ve begun to feel a creative deficiency in my bones. If I can’t paint, I can’t explore. If I can’t do that, I can’t improve. Then I convince myself I’m not good anyway so I might as well stop painting altogether. It’s a vicious cycle.

4. Focus, Balance and Dance. Art is intense work.

Hustling is uncertain. Three boys and seven soccer teams are ridiculous. My deadlines, schedules and responsibilities overwhelm me sometimes and then I morph into a ball of anxiety. Daily yoga practice helps in finding balance. Sometimes, though, a girl just has to put herself in time out. So I put my kids to bed without cleaning the kitchen, call up a girlfriend, and drink a glass of wine (or two). By taking time to dance and play, I generate positive energy which becomes reflective in my work. And when that happens, I remember why I paint in the first place.

This isn’t a perfect plan - certainly not a viable long-term plan - but it’s a good enough plan for right now...until my next hustle.

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU INVEST IN ART SCULPTURE ON THE SIU EDWARDSVILLE CAMPUS

Katherine Poole-Jones SIU Edwardsville’s annual Sculpture on Campus program (SoC) gives 12 students the unique opportunity to propose, design, and install large-scale outdoor sculpture on the university grounds, as well as interact with and receive critiques from nationally and internationally known sculptors who serve as guest jurors. Thad Duhigg, sculpture area head at SIUE, is the driving force behind this singular program, now in its 15th year.

The culmination of SoC is the campus walk, an event that allows the participants to speak publicly about their work and to field questions from the crowd, often 250-300 people. This year’s participants possessed varied sculptural experiences, including MFA candidates in the final year of their degree, as well as undergraduates who had never taken a sculpture class prior to SoC. The sculptures themselves embraced a wide range of themes: the disruption of traditional gender roles, the effects of technology on human interaction, the impact of aging on the body, the absurdity that arises when transforming utilitarian objects into something monumental. The sculptures left a vivid impression on viewers, not least of all guest juror and renowned environmental sculptor, Patrick Dougherty, who praised the professional caliber of the sculptures, commenting that he “found it difficult to single out place winners from this array of excellence.”

Participants stress the benefits of being able to work large-scale and for a wider public audience, viewing SoC as an invaluable professional development opportunity that offers them an impressive portfolio entry and a marketability distinct from other young sculptors as they apply to graduate school or enter the job market. And indeed, the benefits – and lasting impact – of this artistic investment are clear, as alumni of the SoC program have attended prestigious graduate schools, forged successful careers as both studio artists and educators, and have even received large scale public commissions, the latter in no small part to their experience at SIUE. Despite strong support from the university and the students themselves, Duhigg notes that funding for SoC is an ongoing challenge. This year, the program was sustained through the generosity of an anonymous donor. Duhigg’s ultimate goal is to endow SoC, ensuring that student artists continue to have this one-of-a-kind opportunity and that university and community access to the exceptional works of art created by this program is maintained.

Sarah Bonn, Interbeing installation, SIUE (photo credit: Howard Ash) COMMUNITY VOICES

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Donald Judd, Untitled, 1984 (photo credit: Ray Marklin)

Laumeiersculpturepark

Jackie Ferrara, Laumeier Project, 1981 (photo credit: Dana Turkovic)

FOOTNOTES Did something in these pages spark an interest? We’ve assembled a bit of further information for you to follow up on what you’ve read. Keep this copy of All the Art. Keep every future issue of All the Art. If you do, you will soon have a wonderful record of local gallery and museum exhibitions and a bit of insight into the lives of our regional artists.

Reviews Participants in Innovations in Textiles 10: Art Saint Louis, Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis, Craft Alliance Center of Art+Design, Duane Reed Gallery, Edwardsville Art Center, Fontbonne University, Foundry Art Centre, Framations Art Gallery, Lillian By Design, Lillian Yahn Gallery, St. Charles County Arts Council, Meramec Contemporary Art Gallery at St. Louis Community College, Mildred Lane Kemper Art Museum at Washington University, Missouri Fiber Artists (MOFA) at Maryville University, projects+gallery, Quilt National, The Gallery at the Regional Arts Commission, Saint Louis Art Museum, Sheldon Art Galleries, St. Charles Community College, St. Louis Artists’ Guild, Sun Smith-Foret Studio, The Gallery at the University City Public Library, Third Degree Glass, Weavers’ Guild of St. Louis and Yeyo Arts Collective/Gya Gallery.

Craft Alliance, Delmar Loop Gallery: 6640 Delmar Blvd, St. Louis, MO 63130 www.craftalliance.org Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis: 3750 Washington Blvd, St. Louis, MO 63108 www.camstl.org Duane Reed Gallery: 4729 McPherson Ave, St. Louis, MO 63108 www.duanereedgallery.com The May Gallery, Webster University: Sverdrup Bldg, 2nd fl, west wing, 8300 Big Bend, Webster Groves,MO 63119 www.webster.edu/maygallery Museum of Contemporary Religious Art: www.mocra@slu.edu Salma Arastu: www.salmaarastu.com Gallery 210: 44 East Dr, 1 University Blvd, St. Louis, MO 63121 www.gallery210.umsl.edu Saint Louis Art Museum: 1 Fine Arts Dr., St. Louis, 63110 www.slam.org The Des Lee Gallery: 1627 Washington Ave, St. Louis, MO 63103 www.desleegallery.com Samuel Cupples House, Saint Louis University: http://www.slu.edu/samuel-cupples-house Vaughn Cultural Center, Urban League of Metropolitan St. Louis: 3701 Grandel Sq. St. Louis, MO 63108 www.ulstl.com Granite City Art and Design District: 1800 block of State St, Downtown Granite City, IL www.gcadd.org

Interviews Mark Appling Fisher: www.markapplingfisher.com Philip Slein’s Gallery: 4735 McPherson, St. Louis, MO 63108 www.philipsleingallery.com John and Susan Horseman Collection: www.thehorsemancollection.com Jenna Bauer: www.colorbridgeart.com

Art About the Economy Kiarra Lynn Smith: https://about.me/klsmith Southern Illinois University Edwardsville: https://www.siue.edu/_dev/artsandsciences/art/sculpture/sculpture_on_campus/index.shtml

Economy As Art For further information about the Byzantine coin at the Saint Louis Art Museum: www.slam.org:8080/emuseum/objects/viewcollections PBS NOVA timeline The History of Money: www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/ancient/history-money Gloria Steinem’s argument for placing Sojourner Truth on the $20: www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2015/03/ 18/putting-a-woman-on-the-20-bill/gloria-steinem-put-sojourner-truth-on-the-20-bill Jeannette Copperman’s 2013 interview with Evelyn Newman: www.stlmag.com/ A-Conversation-with-Evelyn-Newman/ Evelyn and Eric as a couple of lovers and lovers of coins: http://magazine-archives.wustl.edu/ Summer05/MyWashington.htm

Commentaries on the Economy of Art For more about Thomas Park http://loop827.wordpress.com Megan Rieke: www.meganriekeart.com Sculpture in the SIUE 2015 campus walk includes: Nicole Benner, Sarah Bohn, Brad Eilering, C Fleck, Shelby Fleming, Carrie Gillen, Alex Jacobs, Ellie Kanaskie, Greg Pitchford, Lauren Rogalsky, Sophia Ruppert, and Kelsie Ward. Their sculptures will be on view on the SIUE campus through the current academic year.

Phillips 66 Mural Contest: www.66reasonsstl.com

Corrections and Clarifications for All the Art, Fall 2015 Photo credits for the front and back cover images used on All the Art, Fall 2015 go to Richard Reilly.

Amelia-Colette Jones should have been included in the listing of content contributors.

Citygarden is the correct spelling of the sculpture park bound by 8th & 10th Streets, Market & Chestnut: www.citygardenstl.org

Contact All the Art Sarah Hermes Griesbach - SarahHG@AlltheArtStL.com Amy Reidel - AmyR@AlltheArtStL.com

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