THE MARJORIE BARRICK MUSEUM OF ART SUPPORTS SMART, PASSIONATE ART WRITING FROM SOUTHERN NEVADA AND BEYOND. DRY HEAT IS A PLATFORM WHERE WE CAN SHARE ARTIST INTERVIEWS, ESSAYS ABOUT
THAT MATTERS, AND MORE. YOU CAN FIND US ON THE CAMPUS
The Japanese American artist Yoko Kondo Konopik lived and painted all over the world with her U.S. diplomat husband before settling in Las Vegas in 1995. In September 2024 she sat down for a conversation at the Marjorie Barrick Museum of Art while the museum was planning her solo exhibition, Yoko Kondo Konopik: On Canvas.
ALISHA KERLIN When did you start painting?
YOKO Ever since I was a child, I was painting–of course, school, you know. But I started learning how to paint in 1972. In Paris. He was a professor at a university, he was a sculptor. But for side work he would try to teach. I was in Paris at that time–my husband worked in the American embassy–so I went to his studio. Very, very dirty. There was a huge sculpture he was working on. The students would try to help him. I started learning how to paint, and then I went out to the Seine–the river. To sketch. It was so dirty because of the dog poop. I was not very happy and it was cold and dirty. That's how I started learning how to paint. I didn't even know how to use oil paint. The teacher took us to the store for art materials. It was selling brooms and kitchen stuff.
DIANE BUSH A hardware store.
YOKO That's where they sold the paint. I didn't even go to a special art supply store at that time. But that's how I started. We went to the suburbs and took pictures. I painted from the picture, and he said, “Never do that, because what you see with your eye and in the picture, it's different.” I remember that. That's how I learned.
But that was not what I wanted. I always wanted–that's funny, I was interested in architecture. Architectural design, that's more abstract. But I had to learn how to paint anyway.
DB Because architects have to do a lot of drawing.
YOKO I didn't go to school for architecture because they have an entrance examination for mathematics. I had no idea if I could pass. So I gave up, and I didn't go.
AK When did you decide to start making abstract paintings?
…ONE APPROACH WAS TO GIVE YOU THE DIFFERENT SHAPES, A LINE OR SQUARE OR SOMETHING, AND THEN YOU MAKE SOMETHING OUT OF IT. THAT'S THE WAY I APPROACH PAINTING.
YOKO I wanted to make them all the time. All the time. Not the regular flowers, that's not for me. I wanted to make abstracts, but I didn't know how to do it.
When I went to Japan, there was some art teaching under the art supply store near my mother's place. My mother said, “Why don't you go over there and see?” I went there and the teacher was good with drawing. He was an art graduate. But that was not what I wanted to do. I asked the teacher, you know, I'm interested in those–I didn't say abstract or anything, but something simple. He dropped a string on the floor. Then that's what you have to–
AK That's what you would paint. What an interesting way to find a form and a shape.
YOKO That was the beginning. I tried and I tried. Long afterwards, I had another chance to go to a school where they were teaching abstraction. I went to two schools, because we were moving all the time. So those two teachers…one approach was to give you the different shapes, a line or square or something, and then you make something out of it. That's the way I approach painting. The other one told you to imagine waves on the ocean and that's what you had to put on the paper. That was more difficult. Those were the different approaches of the teachers. I went to those two places for one to two years each. But always, I did what I wanted. Sometimes that wasn’t what the teacher was thinking.
AK How do you start a painting? Do you draw first?
YOKO I draw first. Most of the time. I draw sometimes in my dreams.
AK You come up with your shapes, your lines, in your dreams?
YOKO Most of the time.
AK Do you sketch directly on the canvas?
YOKO Most of the time. Sometimes I use scratch paper.
AK Do you know what it should look like before you start?
YOKO I have a general idea if it will come out okay or not. But you know what, I don't know. I didn’t go to a university or college for art school, or anything like that. I did it my own way. It's not really the right way. I like school, art school. I met many people who graduated university art with a master's degree. Those people and me, we’re entirely different. But I learned a lot from them, you know: basic technique.
I learned how to stretch canvases, all those things from those people I met. When I was in Jakarta, there was a lady who had graduated from an art school in Arizona. She taught me a lot. We could not buy materials. So we went to the market and bought some cotton material and stretched it ourselves. Because I could not buy canvases.
AK Maybe that leads to this question. Can you talk about the influence of different locations? How did the cities you lived in change your work?
YOKO I don't think the location influenced me too much. I got ideas from books and pictures and things like that. I didn’t go out very much. I didn't have anything else to do. I had to stay home and paint. So I don't think the location … even Paris, where I started. When I come to think about it, even at that time, my mind was always going to the abstract.
Scandinavian countries, the furniture and things like that. Those were more of an influence on me.
AK Oh, Scandinavian design. And architecture.
YOKO Scandinavian colors. Scandinavia was closer to me than any other country. I visited, but I never lived there. I thought about it.
DB Very clean design. I know you like Ellsworth Kelly. When did you discover him?
WHEN I SEE SOMETHING I LIKE, I FEEL THAT I SHOULD PUT IT ON THE CANVAS AND SEE HOW IT WORKS.
YOKO We had come back to the States and visited New York for a few days. I went to the Museum of Modern Art. And I found his work–not a painting. Straight like a door, but plain. A piece of door standing. It was a sculpture. But I really loved it. Really loved it. I started looking in other museums to see if I could find him. After I came here I went to Los Angeles or San Francisco–I forget–they had a big exhibition of Ellsworth Kelly. But I cannot do the same things as him, you see? I need to do something else. His color tone is a bit different from mine. I like many painters, not only Ellsworth Kelly, but many, many other painters.
AK Tell us about the colors you choose.
YOKO It depends on what I feel like. I put one color on, then according to that color, the next color is decided. Sometimes I finish completely, and then I decide to change the whole tone.
AK And paint it over again!
YOKO Yeah. Again. At my gallery, that lady told me to make my paintings black and white. Even though I had bright colors, I had to change completely. That's what she wanted. It worked for her business. She’s the gallerist who represented me. She said, “Las Vegas people will not be interested in your painting.” And she said, “California, Palm Springs, is the place where your type of painting will be appreciated.”
She carried one of my big paintings–she came to pick it up, and transported it to Palm Springs overnight. When she sold it, she brought the money to me so I didn't have to go anywhere. Can you imagine another gallery owner doing that? That's what she did for ten years. Until this COVID thing. And then she closed. But after that my husband got sick, so I couldn't paint anyway. So it worked out fine.
DB Back then, I think fewer Las Vegans were interested, but the trends have changed.
YOKO I guess. After that, she introduced her to me. [She indicates Diane.]
DB We knew each other anyway!
YOKO Before that–because I did have a show here.
DB When I was curator for Clark County, Yoko submitted work to a show that I did a call for. I immediately fell in love with–
AK Of course!
DB And included it in the group show at Winchester [Cultural Center].
YOKO Then, of course, I did the library. There was no reaction or anything. But the person at the library wanted to do my show. It was okay, because I wasn’t asking for anything more than that.
DB I think everybody's going to enjoy this show.
YOKO I have no confidence whether anybody will like it or not.
AK I think your work will be a great introduction to art for people.
YOKO I hope I don’t disappoint them. Because after all, I'm making it for fun.
AK You do it for yourself, you said. I have another question. There's a lot of curves, like arches, and then there's a lot of triangles in your work. What is it about those shapes?
YOKO They attract me. I use colors that attract me too. When I see something I like, I feel that I should put it on the canvas and see how it works. That's why I cannot have a title because I never even think about titles.
AK Some of your works do have titles.
YOKO That’s because you cannot point to a painting and say, “That one, that one,” or, “That blue one.” You have to name them. That's why I started to add titles. It means nothing. That's not the theme of the painting.
AK Some of them have letters, like the letter e or t.
YOKO Because of the shape. I use the shapes of letters. That's what it is.
AK You do a lot of drawing on the painting with charcoal.
YOKO I love the charcoal.
AK You draw those straight lines. Are you using a ruler?
YOKO I don't like rulers because they’re very sharp. So I used tape. You know, Scotch tape or whatever, because otherwise I cannot just paint straight.
AK Your edges are precise and deliberate, but they're not sharp. I love that about them. They have a soft, live edge. And then some of your drawings have check marks or dots or gestures. Your shaped canvases seem to be in the act of folding–like the ones with the triangles. Or they're spinning.
YOKO I wanted to create something interesting. I started with just one triangle and then I went on from there.
In the beginning, I couldn't buy the canvases, particularly large ones. At that time, my mail was military, U.S. military. They have their own mailing system. But they have a size limit. I ordered from, I think, the state, strips of canvas within the size limit, certain lengths. I put them together and made a bigger artwork. That's when I started putting two canvases together or sometimes even four together. In the beginning, I didn't create special shapes.
I wanted a larger surface because that way, when I used colors, they would show up. I wanted to make a very large painting, but of course I couldn’t carry it. If I put two together, it helped me because I could carry them separately. Even now, I want to make my paintings bigger so they will be more visible. One small canvas is not enough. Sometimes I used to use at least four or five, sometimes six. If you’re a famous artist and you have assistants and everything–they help you. I envy somebody who can do that. But I never had the chance. It’s too bad.
You know, one time–I don't know where the casino was? They had a motorcycle show. Outside they had a big advertisement. The shape was huge. I really liked that. I don't care for motorcycles. I like big artworks. I don't know why.
AK Bigger than you.
YOKO Big impact. Even if it’s just a circle. If it's too elaborate, I don't care for it. But if it has a big shape, or a big color, or something–that's what I like. If I have to choose, I will choose a plain, big artwork.
DEANNE SOLE Where would you exhibit it?
YOKO That's what I'm wondering. I know I cannot fit it in my house. I don't think about exhibiting my own work. I never even thought of doing an exhibition here.
DB The work is so strong. It has to be seen.
YOKO My husband never liked it, you know. He was willing to support me, he would help me. But he liked figuration. Finally, I painted for him…
AK But you don't like that one?
YOKO I don't like that one.
CHLOE BERNARDO Wait. Who gets to decide what is hanging in the house?
YOKO Well, he had no choice because he didn't paint them. I chose the paintings. Then he would help me put them up. So that was okay.
AK Do you have a favorite painting?
YOKO You know what? [She looks through the photos on her phone] I don't see it here. The one I really liked was–oh. A guy from Spain. It was a big painting he bought. The one I liked, you know. There was another one that went to Carol Goodman’s office. After that, I don't know where it went. My husband was sick and I couldn’t go and pick it up. It was a large one. So I just told them that I would donate. There was one other one that I really liked, but I don’t see it.
[She continues checking her phone. The picture is not there.]
¡KATIE B FUNK!¡KatieB Funk!
Rocks move on their own, you know. The weathering of smaller bits, water wind ice and gravity forcing the journey along its variable path of digestion.
Slowly, in cold Ohio morning more soft lump than weathered stone, I go to therapy and plop out fat, grad-school-makes-me-cry tears.
In the belly of the library, my morning of introspection continues. I spy JUXTAPOZ MAGAZINE, issue #190 with Ugo Rondinone’s seven wondrous stacks of hue cutting up into a violent, Mojave blue.
We exit the plane and I register how differently the dry air breathes. Terminals corral all the coming and going as flashing lights with dings catatonic, sing to every passerby.
Vegas is known for that particularly buzzy kind of polyurethane perfection, where Greek meets French with Spanish ocean simulacrum, cheeseburgers better than sex, and that’s just Bellagio poolside.
But was it really all that good, my sister poked years later — “like…if you were in a vacuum with absolutely no context, would that still be your first pick?”
I think it was the teetering stack that did me in once and for all:
toasted bun with pearly white sesames one sliced ripened ring of tomato lettuce shreds wrestling hard with relaxed strips of bacon that nestled onto a pile of oozing American cheese encasing charred beef and somewhere tucked away, pickles zinged...
We exit the plane and I register once more how differently the dry air inhales and exhales. But it was Burgergate 2017, you know. Only resort guests allowed to dine poolside and enjoy those pooly poolside things. I limp back through shiny heavy corridors, a single tear streaming down my cheek as my eucharistic path is fully denied its reward like a hungry cliché.
Instead I gnashed apart a basket of thick onion rings, bitter as a preteen. I feared then what I fear now that my language may be trite, or “in that of a remark, opinion, or idea overused, abused, and consequently of little import; lacking originality or freshness.”
A supremely kind and patient Uber driver picks us up and takes us to our destination: Seven Magic Mountains there she is, quenched in a river of social media as visitors snap their photographs pulse their angles and toss their skirts and dresses and shawls just casually enough that we might consider giving credit back to the wind.
The driver stayed with us the whole time, you know. And these rocks moved like manufactured hoodoos with trucks cranes hands and sweat forcing them along a designated path of stacked joy.
Do you have a tattoo of Seven Magic I sure do, but I sometimes grimace the artist messed up the boulder there should be 33 total and I’ve bonus worry stones, I tell myself.
I visit the work on my own: the first time was with family the second, a couple of friends the third, someone who will be neither ever again. I sit down on the hardened earth and begin to write:
I keep thinking about how people cram + shove to take photos w/ the Mona Lisa…the spectacle of it more so than the art itself…
The boldness of people climbing them, throwing rocks up onto them, messing w/ other balanced rocks nearby that people created…
What makes something “tacky”? Is SMM tacky? Why? Why not? What makes something the opposite of tacky? What is the opposite of tacky? Classy? Educated? Sincere?
Perhaps the opposite of howling at the moon whether yokel or tenured or true is crawling towards the sun regardless of its shine. Interstate 15 runs alongside the site, constant artery of even more coming and going.
The Skittles I bought from the 7/11 on the way here crush crunch chew against my molars as I look around some more and think real deep about place and temporality: Did you hear that Seven Magic Mountains might move?
Debuting in 2016, it was only supposed to be on view for two years. It quickly became so popular that the lease was extended multiple times.
Magic Mountains?!! grimace because boulder count, I’ve got 35, myself. again. write:
A woman approaches me to my right. She tells me that she took some panoramic shots and that I am in them, wondering if I would like to have copies. The airdrop manages to swim through desert blankness and then there I am in all my chubby, seated glory, notebook on my lap with my ratty brown sweater and baseball hat, observing bright colors smack a blazing mid-December sky.
Memories cannot be recreated, only recollected. Memories cannot be recreated, only paid a fleeting visit. Memories cannot be recreated, this much I know now.
But knowing that with you we snoozed a little longer, and danced in the sand with balmy winds at our backs. For those wolves carved in marble and PhD degrees cannot kill what they cannot agree.
Let you be you be river, and I’ll take care of sea.
¡KATIE B FUNK!
East of the Las Vegas Strip, across a stretch of sunbaked asphalt along Sahara Avenue basks a two-story retail center named New Orleans Square. Its airy structure flaunts curling French Quarter iron flourishes along its railings and archways, framing the doorways to a clutch of small businesses. In the spring of 2024, Clark County purchased New Orleans Square along with the neighboring Commercial Arts Building in hopes of redeveloping the Historic Commercial Center District. At the time of this writing, the exact fate of the building (and the land it sits on) remains unknown and it is uncertain where current tenants will go now that leases have expired in December. Dismayed and resigned to the false promises of politicians and bureaucratic machinations, tenants were forced to make tough decisions. Some tenants are seeking spaces across town while others will shutter completely. One, however, has a certain plan for the road ahead.
Jessica Oreck is an artist, filmmaker, and the mastermind behind the Office of Collecting and Design (acronym OCD), less an office and more a repository of touch and memory. OCD, which occupied Suite B-105 in New Orleans Square, is part museum, exhibition space, and Oreck’s active studio. An enigmatic cast of curios comprises the
Here, colorful tchotchkes lie in wait to be handled, suffused with an intimacy that is both felt and unknowable.
museum collection. Visitors are welcome to gently sift through jars of misplaced buttons, unplayable dice, lizard skins, stone fruit pits, pencil nubs, and tiny toys. Here, colorful tchotchkes lie in wait to be handled, suffused with an intimacy that is both felt and unknowable. Oreck’s curatorial approach possesses a librarian’s precision but a lover’s affectations. Almost every object fits in the palm of a hand, a glass strawberry, a diary lock, sewing scissors, a lavender quartz bird, a porcelain shot glass, each harboring an inscrutable story. Their stewardship grew out of Oreck’s stop motion animation practice; like a magpie, she amassed small props and wove them into moving images until they acquired a life of their own. Glimpses of their past are only discerned by direct contact with their worn material surface, a condition Oreck describes as “the residue of attention.”
OCD brims with charm and aesthetic, ripe for photo opportunities, but the subtext of the entire experience is a serving of radical philosophy, a salve against the fast burns of contemporary digital life. Oreck presents an opportunity for tactile communion to rethink notions of utility. Past the velvet curtain, enshrined within wooden shelves and drawers are castaways whose value lies in the hand of the beholder.
The undertaking was to acquire a 40-foot trailer (a second hand Heartland Bighorn 3875FB to be precise), strip and gut its interior to build out a mobile version of the museum, then haul it across the continental US. Oreck is the quintessential artist, overflowing with restless energy and manic devotion to her vision. “I often do things through sheer force of will, sometimes with no institutional backing,” she said. In this case, her vision is an institution unto itself. The public has rallied behind her campaign to build a traveling museum via Kickstarter; she has raised $54,334 to fund the conversion. I asked about her experience fundraising.
“It was a roller coaster with a lot of emotional highs and lows. I poured a lot of work into coordinating this thing. I’m very moved to see that the space has drawn this much support. I cried a lot,” she replied.
OCD operated out of New Orleans Square since 2020 and will now embark on a new journey as a traveling museum. When I spoke with Oreck in September 2024 about her plans, she shared that she had ruminated on the idea two years prior. “Since I wasn’t able to renew my lease, I had to pursue alternatives and I already had a vision of taking this project beyond Las Vegas.”
A museum on wheels conjures up images of traveling circuses of yore, painted freight containers housing animals and acrobats. Oreck envisioned something similar, though less entertainment driven. Instead, her goal was to preserve the original space’s ethos of quiet discovery and contemplation. While the physical location in Las Vegas will no longer exist, Oreck will provide the same creative offerings on the road, including scavenger hunts, treasure club subscriptions, and the flatlay experience in which visitors arrange a set of objects to be photographed from above, reminiscent of specimen documentation. “There will be no basecamp because the museum does not scale,” she said. “It will only exist in this mobile iteration, so it has to be the size that it is. There’s a lot of unsexy work ahead of me, like figuring out how to insure this
thing and registering it with the Department of Transportation. For the interior, I’m building more walls, bookcases, and drawers since there’s less existing wall space.” Transforming an RV was preferable to building out a blank slate shipping container with no insulation, electricity, HVAC, or plumbing. Oreck and her husband began the renovation process by removing scores of screws, cigarette smoke infused carpets, and kitchen appliances. The construction process came with some unusual technical challenges. The tiny, delicate objects had to withstand the rigors of travel, from potholes to inclement weather. Removable putties, tapes, and glues were employed to stabilize wall displays and many parts of the collection were reorganized into drawers. Regular shakedown tests were conducted by driving 50 miles at a time to anticipate what will stand and what will fall. The exact route is undetermined, but likely to be based on seasons, closed for winter then traveling west to east as winter thaws. “We will most likely start off by touring the west coast in April before attempting the cross-country tour. Everything is still up in the air, but ideally breaking it up into seasons will give me time to work on other projects,” she said, referring to her filmmaking pursuits.
Oreck’s film oeuvre predominantly focuses on the ways habits and rituals become endemic to communities. Her documentaries and stop motion films build up textural experiences through quiet conversations with subjects and extreme attention to details � the more mundane the better. She shares, “I’m obsessed with these repetitive behaviors, for instance, the way my dad would tie his tie, my mom would put on her lipstick. Over time, people develop a very specific way they conduct their personal routines. I find there is something colossally universal in that shared experience.” Oreck’s films have been featured on the Criterion Channel and screened at Sundance, SXSW, and Tribeca Film Festival. While OCD and Oreck’s film career may feel disparate on first take, they in fact operate within the same modality � they both attempt to capture time and attend to the overlooked. When asked about her process, Oreck replied, “It’s completely intuitive and not recognizable to most people. It’s an aesthetic I’ve developed over the years. When researching a specific topic, I must talk to people directly. When acquiring objects, I refuse to shop online. I have to touch and hold it in my hand. I am drawn to materials that are fragile or fallible � wood, glass, paper, textures � things that wear down over time.”
the story of how a stuffed rabbit becomes real through his owner’s love and attention. In one of the opening scenes in the nursery, the Rabbit asks the Skin Horse what it means to be real. The Skin Horse says, “Real isn’t how you are made. When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt. It doesn’t happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. Once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
OCD officially closed the doors to Suite B-105 in New Orleans Square one fine December day. A few neighboring tenants hosted closing parties to celebrate their accomplishments as purveyors of arts and culture. The mood was cheerful and bright. I asked Oreck what she would miss about New Orleans Square. She let out a wistful sigh. “I loved the community aspect,” she responded. “The museum became a third place for people from all walks of life � a place to read, write, sketch, play music, or hang out. I’ll miss that consistency.” Oreck and her museum will depart the city of Las Vegas not quite unscathed by the turmoil surrounding New Orleans Square, but certainly not overlooked. � December 2024
On a brisk, sunny day in April, I drove over the channel and through the bridge in search of whimsy and wonder in the unlikely neighborhood of San Pedro. San Pedro, a working-class neighborhood within the city of Los Angeles, bears the hallmarks of a port town; the brilliant green Vincent Thomas Bridge spills out among shipping containers stacked like high rises where the exhaust of industry hangs heavy. It is an unlikely backdrop for what I remember about the Office of Collecting and Design, but I remind myself that Jessica Oreck specializes in transporting people through time and space. The current news is absurd, the mood is bleak, but I still believe in supporting artists, especially those who understand the political nuance of history and the unreliable nature of memory. Since Oreck and I concluded our last interview in December 2024, OCD is fully on the road and has since wrapped up their first west coast tour, bringing the memory machine to the wider public.
Taking influences from Romani wagons, Victorian train cars, and traveling circus spectacles, the interior of the trailer is shrouded in handsome fabrics, dark wood facades, glimmering ornaments, and warm lighting.
Oreck has achieved the seemingly impossible in less than a year. After gutting and remodeling the RV through sweat, tears, confoundment, and joy, the OCD trailer transfusion is complete. Glimpses of her buildout process are shown in bite-sized episodes on her YouTube channel where Oreck can be seen sawing, painting, drilling, and cementing her vision in place with the help of friends and family. “I trusted myself a lot more this time around,” Oreck shared during a followup, post-tour interview in July. “Even if it didn’t make sense to other people, I went forward with it anyway because I was confident in my vision. I’m really proud of it, in some ways I like it better than the original museum.” Taking influences from Romani wagons, Victorian train cars, and traveling circus spectacles, the interior of the trailer is shrouded in handsome fabrics, dark wood facades, glimmering ornaments, and warm lighting. Two armchairs flank a triple towered birdcage; hand-painted beaded drapes from Lithuania hang over the windows, casting an ochre tint over the space. An array of cabinets Tetris across the walls, each housing small wares organized via Oreck’s internal, abstruse system. The knobs and handles of library card catalog and flat file drawers gleam from their past life in Las Vegas and prior.
Therein lies the dark beauty of OCD and its tangible understanding of mortality; things fall apart, things decay, but life is better off making oneself vulnerable to being broken. Here, touch is spiritual alchemy, a means of reactivating an inanimate object’s inherent memory and savoring its company. While in conversation with Oreck, I was reminded of the children's book The Velveteen Rabbit, subtitled How Toys Become Real. Written by Margery Williams and first published in 1922, it tells
Many of OCD’s wares were deaccessioned or reorganized to fit neatly into its new, 400 square foot home. Wall displays, furniture, lamps, tiny treasures, and assorted ephemera were sold during a moving sale in late March. “Since we went from 1,000 square feet to 400, I had to make a rule with myself, that nothing would go into storage. I would either have to sell or gift it so that collection could exist as a whole on the road,” Oreck said. As such, the newest iteration of OCD is far more compact and subdued than its first form in New Orleans Square. Objects are sequestered into drawers and boxes, requiring greater curiosity, attention, and care from visitors. Oreck said, “One of the most amazing things about this project is that it’s become a magnet for people I am drawn to. I met many incredible people and am grateful for new friendships. A lot of people had already been following my work online and it was so rewarding to finally meet them in person.”
"A lot of people had already been following my work online and it was so rewarding to finally meet them in person."
Jessica Oreck
When I arrived at the Port of Los Angeles, visitors were already trickling into the museum. The trailer exterior was unrecognizable from its previous white and grey decaled surface. Its new surface boasted flourishes in deep blue, ochre, forest green, and purples, courtesy of Bob Dewhurst of Sign Language in Goldfield, Nevada. Inside, I recognized a few objects from my past visits, but continued to encounter new things � a collection of tiny top hats, Rubylith letters, lead type. As I arranged letters into ransom love notes for my friends, nostalgia cast its shadow over my mind. A third place was lost in Las Vegas. OCD on the road has no grounded homebase; it is suspended and decentralized, like so many other things in this world. “I often miss the community I had in Las Vegas,” Oreck shared. “I loved being able to host workshops, poetry readings, and events at a moment’s notice. I miss the regulars who would come in every week.” Though OCD’s departure represents a cultural loss for Las Vegas, the net positive is the opportunity to reach a wider audience along the open road.
From April to June, OCD toured through San Diego, San Pedro, San Luis Obispo, Fremont, and Port
Costa, passing into the Pacific Northwest for stops in Portland, Tacoma, and Seattle. The future tour is currently in progress, with stops in Boise, Salt Lake City, and Boulder scheduled for September and October. “I didn’t realize how complicated it is to plan a tour,” Oreck admitted. “I spend many hours every day trying to plan � the logistics of parking, trucking, cold calling people, producing social media content, and coordinating with host organizations. All the small businesses I’ve partnered with so far have been incredibly generous, and I’m hoping the planning process will become more effortless in the future.” OCD is currently a two-person operation, powered by Oreck and her assistant Emily. The plan is to operate only three months out of the year to make room for other creative projects. As such, an East Coast tour is not feasible until 2029. “After we reach the East Coast, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll abandon the rig and move the collection onto a boat and sail out to the British Isles.” And so, the little office of objects suffused with memory may continue to float out into the world, physically contained yet boundless in its story. � July 2025
For updates on Office of Collecting and Design's tour dates and the buildout process, go to officeofcollecting. com or @office. of.collecting on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube.
Tiffany Lin is an interdisciplinary artist working at the cross section of graphic narrative, social practice, and performance. Her varied projects parse through social conventions at odds with the natural world, utilizing drawing to investigate topics as austere as US Census data to doom metal inspired teeth people. She is compelled by the interplay of gravitas and humor, human instincts versus institutions, and anxious visions of dystopia.
Lin holds a MFA from the Maryland Institute College of Art in Illustration Practice and a BA in Gender & Women's Studies and Psychology from the University of California, Berkeley. She currently lives and works in Los Angeles as an Assistant Professor at the Otis College of Art and Design.
Arts Alive was a publication of the Allied Arts Council of Southern Nevada. Launched in late 1980, it ended in 1992. Excerpted from its pages, this found prose poem runs through its first year, starting with a fall 1980 art show at Burk Gal’ry in Boulder City and ending with a Christmas 1981 exhibition in the same place. Between those parentheses we touch on things that kept the community going: artists, volunteers, plans for new arts complexes. Entries from its events calendar mark out the months of the year. All of the writing credit goes to the Arts Alive staff. You can find copies in UNLV’s Special Collections and Archives, and in the online records of Henderson Library.
A hometown atmosphere prevailed over the crowd that gathered for the artist reception opening the Burk Gal’ry’s 3rd Annual Fall Western Art Show in Boulder City.
Las Vegas is gradually shedding its cultural wasteland label. As we emerged from the ‘70s with a bustling economy, ozone-bound hotel high rises, and increasing numbers of tourists, there also emerged a new perspective of Southern Nevada as a community awakening to the arts.
JANUARY 5–30
Works by members of the Las Vegas Artists’ Cooperative will be showing at Reynolds Electrical and Engineering Co. Inc. 2501 W. Wyandotte Dr., 384-5470.
WEDNESDAY JANUARY
14 7 PM. Monthly meeting of the Las Vegas China Painters. 2917 Gilmary Ave. 878-6819 or 870-1637.
Moving into the ‘80s, the arts renaissance of the ‘70s will be assuredly continued with the construction of two new major art complexes. At UNLV, a Fine Arts Complex with space for a visual art gallery, studios and classrooms is set for completion in the early 1980s. Also planned is a Cultural Arts Complex to be built by Allied Arts Council of Southern Nevada.
COMING IN FEBRUARY: “The Business of Art and the Artist.”
A One-Day Workshop for FullTime and Part-Time Artists.
On MARCH 31, the morning after Reagan was shot, I got caught in traffic on Eastern Avenue […] There were lots of tense faces behind windshields and lots of blank Las Vegas walls that need Bob Beckmann’s radiant murals (or at least some witty graffiti).
With the NEA cuts pending, all of the Arts programs will need greater local support. Increased funding and donated services for the Arts Council will have to come from the business community and members so that we can continue to inform the public of the arts and cultural events in Southern Nevada. Perhaps if there is a broader audience for the arts, the federal cuts won’t destroy programs.
Perhaps if there is a broader audience for the arts, the federal cuts won’t destroy programs.
LVAC.
“Moods and Magic,” crazy critters by Elva Anderson, watercolors by Sharon Cunningham, oils by Karen A. Owens. Opening reception: April 3 12–5 pm. 384-5470. Free.
The updating of registry information has been neglected due to a lack of an enthusiastic and energetic person to perform those duties. Until now enter enthusiastic and energetic Geneva Eads. In addition to working with her husband Roger in their homebased stained glass & graphic arts business, Desert Renaissance, Geneva has assumed the artist’s registry project. The artist registry is a free service of the council provided to all artists. To receive
[T]he Southwest is right on the edge of what’s going on in contemporary art.
a copy of the registry form, contact Geneva at 648-6317.
“No one expected such a turnout. Maureen and her volunteer team just doubled their time. We’re also delighted that all three of Maureen’s entries were judged into the show. She received an honorable mention, and Clark County Library has asked that one piece, a 5’ x 6 1/2’ acrylic wash in black tones, be left on loan following the exhibit.” Other volunteers were: Pat Gaffey, Tony Morrow, Carole Hepker, Al Hansen, Peggy Sudweeks, Vicki Richardson, Nikki Kalavares, Rose Mearson, Helen Mc Innes, Johanna Hawley, Minni Dolson, Stan Mitchell, Steve Hinds, Kay Robbins, Berte Rand, Audrey Turnbell, Ellenore Nighswonger, Mariane Berendji, Marilou Ramsey, Elva Anderson, Martha Schkurniman, and Jim Grove.
As people from the North and East move in, combining their interests with the Sun Belt’s interest in light, the Southwest is right on the edge of what’s going on in contemporary art. It will be interesting to see [what] the role of Los Angeles will be as compared to New York by the year 2000. I think the Sun Belt capitals will start to reign supreme, I think it is possible!
Nancy Houssels, diminutive powerhouse and advocate for Nevada artists, smiles about the small number of people she supposes watch the Channel 10 arts calendar following Lee Winston’s “Public Forum.” “Five minutes of arts news on TV is a start …”
The Allied Arts Festival will take place in the Mall after hours, and will feature the work of a large number of visual artists, whose work will be displayed throughout the Mall, selected and organized by Cindy McCoy, head of the Council’s visual arts division.
JUNE 28. SUNDAY. 3:00
PM. Reception for artist Cindy McCoy at RWCC. Free. 386-6211
McCoy’s acrylic paintings represent the human figure in her own personal style.
The festival takes up where Arts A La Carte left off in 1978 and will now become an annual event.
In a significant gesture for the Southern Nevada art community, the MGM Grand Hotel has generously agreed to assign all ticket revenues from the special preview showing of its spectacular new show, “Jubilee,” to the Allied Arts Council.
Mr. Sido brings a “new dimension” to the Las Vegas contemporary art movement. We are looking forward to seeing more of this talented artist’s work. By Regina Holboke.
Tom Holder, the UNLV art instructor and Henderson resident, has been chosen from 60 Nevada artists to paint a 40-foot mural in the State Capitol Building in Carson City.
JULY 09 THURSDAY. Jani
Mae Herder exhibit, Flamingo Library. Free. 733-7810. Rodolfo Fernandez exhibit, Flamingo Library. Free. 733-7810.
Las Vegas Art Museum, Lorenzi Park, three shows Free. 733-7810.
A cultural complex for Southern Nevada is a step closer to reality with the signing of a 75-year lease for the property on which it is to be built. Jointly leased by the Allied Arts Council, UNLV, and the State of Nevada, the site is to become a home for a center which will showcase all the arts. Al Hansen, President of the Allied Arts Council, UNLV Chancellor Robert M. Bersi, and Governor Robert List signed the lease on March 24. Plans are currently underway for the first stage of construction, which will be developed as the Nevada Museum of Fine Art. The leased property is located at Tropicana and Swenson.
JULY 26 SUNDAY. “Nevada Nostalgia.” Invitational show of resident artists with especially created works depicting the past into the present impressions of Nevada’s uniqueness. Coordinated by Peggy Jackson.
“Winnemucca, and all of Nevada, is like a blank canvas that has afforded me the opportunity to clarify my thinking in the absence of other modernists.”
An innovative art experience for the Las Vegas audience were the progressive art displays of Paul Tzanetopoulos, Marlene Franks and Phillip Di Marino. Paul’s multi-media presentation “Dirty Red and Harry” was designed for viewer participation. Several projectors, fitted with color filters, projected a life-size store front scene on a white wall while a motion picture of feeding birds was projected on the floor with accompanying sound. Visitors walking in front of the projectors
cast their shadows on the wall and thus became part of the scene.
There was a time the Reed Whipple was a “barn” and Charleston Heights Arts Center a paragraph in the longrange plan. How did all this happen? What and who made it happen?
SEPTEMBER 01 TUESDAY. “Five Southwest Artists:” Fritz Scholder, R.C. Gorman, Earl Biss, Kevin Red Star, and Len Agrella, DeLorean Gallery, through September 12, noon through 9 pm, Tues. through Sat. 362–3007
Work by disabled artists from around the world will be displayed OCTOBER 2 THROUGH 4 at Meadows Mall during regular hours. “Local artists will also be represented in this tribute to the creativity of the disabled artist,” according to coordinator Susan Thomas, who is a representative of the Governor’s Committee on the Employment of the Handicapped.
Buy said she opened the gallery because she feels the community has a need for a credible art gallery. She believes Las Vegas is “on its way up, culturally,” and can support another local gallery.
Plans were announced at the OCTOBER meeting of the Nevada Museum of Fine Art Board of Trustees for officers and other trustees to travel to Los Angeles for a series of meetings with museum officials, directors and patrons there.
NOVEMBER 06 FRIDAY. Roy Purcell, premier showing of world’s largest etchings, Grand Gallery at MGM Hotel, 6 TO 10 PM, THROUGH NOVEMBER 15. 739-4111.
Buy, who, at 23, may be the youngest gallery entrepreneur in Las Vegas, financed the gallery by scrimping, saving, and selling her house.
with an exhibit of original political and satirical woodcuts by Soviet artist Boris Sternberg at the Reed Whipple Center on NOVEMBER 15 AND 16
The Las Vegas Art Museum, located in Lorenzi Park, serves Las Vegas with three separate galleries. The Main Gallery, featuring the Fall Annual Round Up this month, displays works by noted artists. These exhibits alternate each month with presentations by groups such as the Nevada Watercolor Society in March, or selected competitions. The Nevada Artists’ Gallery highlights works of Nevada residents. The Young People’s Gallery displays art by, or of interest to, local school children. The Museum Store displays works by many local artists. The Suitcase Gallery is a traveling exhibit which museum volunteers take to fifth grade students at their school.
A beguiling, witty, impressive, and sometimes shocking opening
DECEMBER 6 got
need artists need audiences need volunteers need administrators need artists need each other.
Ryan Galleries, Las Vegas’ newest art gallery, off to a promising start. The show was a broad tribute to the “golden girls” of the Las Vegas showroom stage. The gold leaf gave some works the illusion of being the works of an Old Master from the Renaissance. Other works presented squat, coarse figures out of the pessimistic school of German expressionism. While the works were witty, entertaining, accomplished, and serious, the opening was also enjoyable because of the good crowd and the sudden appearance of a couple of real Las Vegas showgirls in full regalia. Owner Gail Buy seems to have a flair for the gesture that will make an opening a little special.
Administrators need artists need audiences need volunteers need administrators need artists need each other. And we have those talents and utilize those talents and that’s why art’s alive in Las Vegas.
NOVEMBER 11. WEDNESDAY. Art Auction benefiting Young Audiences, Caesars’ Palace, 7 pm viewing, 8 pm auction. Refreshments provided. $15 per person, $25 per couple. 386-0198.
Noted art historian Alessandra Comini and Soviet emigre filmmaker Konstantin Kuzminsky will be the featured speakers at a program to be held in conjunction
DECEMBER 05 SUNDAY
Annual Christmas exhibit, Burk Gal’ry, Boulder City, through DECEMBER 23. 293-3958
Thanks to former Allied Arts Council president Patrick Gaffey for permission to reprint these excerpts.