Like I said, Chicago and I can’t get enough art crawls. My second round of experiential learning was based in the neighborhood Pilsen and their monthly art crawl that occurs every second Friday. I have been going to Second Fridays much longer than I have even known about Brave New Art World, and to be frank, I’m glad I experienced Pilsen before River North. I never feel wholly satisfied at Second Fridays. It is my goal every month to hit all the galleries listed on the map, but somehow I always come up short. Not to mention that I usually miss the extra performance art that occurs at various time intervals throughout the night. My inability to “complete” Second Fridays makes me want to go back to try again – it is a lovely arts challenge that I just can’t say no to. I’m never sated at Pilsen, and I like it this way. I prefer a mystery.
Blumgarten
Second Fridays also provides me with the unique problem of never remembering the galleries I go to. Then again, I should not be blaming Second Fridays. It is really my fault for not taking note of the gallery name, owner, and the artists they are exhibiting. But the excitement of Pilsen on a Friday night is all too much for me, and I willingly get swept down Halstead, floating in and out of galleries at the leisure of the current. One gallery in particular that I cannot place features the work of the artist who owns the gallery. Again, terrible at names, but I believe the gallery is the artist’s studio space. At both the July and August crawls he was displaying a series of large portraits. The canvas space was entirely occupied by a man’s face painted in a style of rich colors and patterns that both camouflaged and revealed his facial features. I’m a sucker for bright and colorful artwork, so I spent a lot of time in his gallery trying to understand the expressions. The artist captured the facial features of a person that viewers can easily relate to and empathize with emotionally, and yet I was drawn to the exotic fantasy of the portraits. I could not help imagining the childish myths I would have imagined while growing up if my parents had owned this paint and displayed it in our home.
I followed up the colorful portraits with two rounds of performance art. In the ROOMS Gallery on Halstead, the ceremonial inspired piece “Ritual No. 6: THE WHISPERERS” was performed for three hours straight to the beat of a metronome. Featuring eight female performers, THE WHISPERERS was a work of rhythm and synchronization. Described in the wall label text, the performers followed the beat by moving either forward or backwards every four beats, taking four beats to move, between the block barriers on the floor. They could also choose to turn in place to face either the front of the gallery or the back on every fourth beat. Watching this performance installation reminded me of the acting workshop Viewpoints in which participants could walk, run, or move in slow motion in a variety of patterns – whatever they chose to do, it was an individual choice not influenced by direction. Eventually, though, your movements would synchronize with those of others around you and a fragmented movement piece became an integrated and responsive whole. It was exciting to observe the women all suddenly move at once in the same direction as if they had rehearsed it. While I’m unsure of what the ritual was, I was still moved by its observations on human nature.
My second encounter with performance art occurred down a mysterious looking alleyway lighted by fake candles. Following the sign to the back door, I found myself in Temple Gallery, both studio space and home to husband and wife duo Lyndsae Rinio and Bob Garrett. Their movement group PosterchildArt, which also includes Nadine Lollino, calls Temple Gallery home to their improv multi-media art series. The three artists welcomed their guests as if we were all old friends, offering sofa cushions and red wine, and then they assumed their positions. The “stage” was an open space of hard wood floor with a white-sheet backdrop. A light illuminated the sheets from behind casting a shadow of one artist while the others were in front of the curtain in full view of the audience. Again, I experienced a meditation on human nature, synchronization and individual impulse to move. Watching the three artists interact with each other made me want to get up and give it a try myself.
One of my last accomplishes of the night was the grand feat of purchasing a work of art. Upon entering this particular photography gallery I was underwhelmed and more interested in the poster board at the back on which I could freely doodle. As I was walking through giving the photos a half-glance, I had to stop in front of one cluster because I was so startled and amused by them. Specifically, it was the photograph of a man’s hairy legs in a short, pink, terrycloth robe and fuzzy, faded-pink house slippers against a bright window that made me giggle. I started laughing as I went through the pile of prints just below the original to find a copy in my price-range. When I did, I triumphantly presented it to my friends declaring that I just had to have it, it was too great not to buy. Confused, of course, my companions kept asking me what I liked about it, and as I tried to explain, a bearded ginger man joined the conversation. Moments later I realized he was the artist and those were his legs. I was relieved to find he was laughing, too.
http://www.gingerjohnthomas.com
My brief and comical interaction with this man struck me as wholly satisfying. Not only was I gaining from great artwork, but I was also meeting the very person who created it. I, therefore, believe that the reason I never feel complete after attending Second Fridays is that I never take the time to find the artist and compliment their work. If anything, I learned from the August Second Fridays that human interaction is the common denominator of art and creativity. Plus, why would I ever pass up the chance to make someone laugh and gain a new acquaintance? Experience needs to be collective, so my goal for my next visit to Pilsen is to introduce myself to the artists available. Lesson learned, class dismissed.
Squatting Artist 