RECOMMENDED

The naked bathing woman, like the wine-and-bread still life, is one of those enduring standards of modern painting. Presumably it has been just a matter of multitasking necessity, as the artist likely consumes his subject after completing the painting. Naked bathers have shed their clothes in front of Picasso, Cezanne, Degas, Renoir and so many others. The bather got a major update in the sixties, in the hands of Tom Wesselmann, and now, as taken up by Carroll Dunham, the bather gets wet and nasty. Neither perverse not pornographic, Dunham presents the traditional bather subject as a straightforward, monumental picture of sex, undressed. Dunham’s bathing woman is not Venus, nor weepy muse, nor Nature personified; she is all tit and cunt, like an animal. The genitals are tightly cropped, depicted with energetic strokes in pencil, watercolor and oil pastel on small sheets of paper. These are sketches for large paintings, concurrently hanging at Gladstone Gallery in New York. Here, fifty or so drawings hang in clusters on the living-room and dining-room walls of artist Pamela Fraser’s home in Oak Park. It’s almost impossible to disconnect the setting from the subject; a single-family home on this broad, tree-lined residential street houses rough and ripe depictions of sexuality. To encounter each is an entirely intimate matter. (Jason Foumberg)

Through November 14 at He Said-She Said, 216 N. Harvey, Oak Park, by appointment.

RECOMMENDED

Guy Richards Smit’s new videos are compelling to watch, even though nothing much happens during any of them. In “Urinal Girl,” a very adult-looking “schoolgirl” looks on dreamily as a young man pees. Eyebrows cocked, he looks back at her, clearly getting off on being watched. Toward the end, she appears bored, and the guy wipes flop-sweat from his brow. In another video, a physician communicates bad news to a patient by donning a red clown nose and dancing a halfhearted jig, while a third depicts a painter, her elaborately costumed female model and a mysterious dominatrix-like figure surveying the proceedings. Read the rest of this entry »

RECOMMENDED

He Said/She Said is a project space devoted to the exchange of ideas between art and daily life, so it’s hard to imagine a better setting for Michael Stickrod’s work. It’s located in the Oak Park home of artists Pamela Fraser and Randall Szott, who take turns curating in a back-and-forth manner. Fraser gravitates toward contemporary art practice, while Szott pushes those boundaries by focusing on cultural phenomena that may fall outside the realm of art proper, such as found grocery list collections or lectures on eating locally.  Stickrod represents a convergence of the two perspectives: he’s a young artist who has shown at various galleries and at the New Museum, but his work focuses mostly on his personal life, often taking the form of vacation movies, family photographs, painted ceramic plates and other “amateur” practices that tend to be relegated to attics and basements. Read the rest of this entry »

RECOMMENDED

Self-loathing and the sensual caress of hard against soft, flesh against flesh, are starkly juxtaposed in Shane Aslan Selzer’s ultra-cryptic video installation titled “Here is Where it Is, Between Us,” at The Suburban. Selzer’s piece relies on a broken-down clothes rack as its main armature, a structure from which hangs a thing called a snaffle which is used as a taming bit, along with a scuffed-up gold strap, a knot of cheap jewelry, a pair of busted sunglasses, and three repellent strips of well-populated flypaper. A small gold foil-paneled screen creates a partially obscured space suggestive of a dressing room or stage wing. The stop-motion video depicts two hands, one small, female and white, the other larger, male and black, tossing objects (a paintbrush, a hammer, an open switchblade) that appear deceptively feather-light as they float downwards. Occasionally the hands brush against each other as the objects are exchanged.

Selzer’s installation is an intuitive and self-reflective exercise in looking, seeing and, yes, in feeling, a soiled and vaguely sadomasochistic apparatus that encompasses the entire room, from the coiled electrical cord powering the projection to the cold, hard floor you’re standing on. It’s incredibly off-putting and intractable, a conceptual tease that refuses to deliver the goods. But if we quit trying to make it all add up and instead let the contradictory associations and affects it evokes wash over us, the piece becomes strangely liberating, too. It’s in the combustive abrasion of expectation and experience that the “Where” of Selzer’s title is found. (Claudine Isé)

Through March 12 at The Suburban, 125 North Harvey Avenue, Oak Park. By appointment.

RECOMMENDED

Titled “Give the Past the Slip of La Mancha,” Andrew Falkowski and Karl Erickson’s collaborative project at The Suburban slices through masculine stereotypes, idealized historical myths and authoritative language systems with a keen eye for how time’s passage reduces even the most hallowed cultural icons into figures of kitsch. The drawings and text-and-image collages that form the show’s bulk feature nerd-mascot Booji Boy, cut-out knights in ornamental armor, and quotations drawn in billboard block or ransom-style lettering. And yet, despite the freewheeling mix of cultural references from DEVO to Don Quioxte to the Who, Falkowski and Erickson’s collaboration lacks the visual pleasure and ironic punch that each delivers on his own or occasionally together, as in their series of competing Hogans Heroes and M*A*S*H portraits.  Both artists use tropes of failed boomer idealism to make visually compelling and conceptually convincing works—Erickson’s latch hook rug portraits and Falkowski’s colorful hostage-note text paintings come foremost to mind—but their project here never quite transcends a stilted cut and paste aesthetic. It feels like the artists are working out ideas to be fleshed out later—and maybe separately. That think-tank aspect is fine, and appropriate for a space devoted to experimentation. But it may disappoint those expecting more from these provocative cultural ransackers. (Claudine Isé)

Through March 12 at The Suburban, 125 North Harvey Avenue, Oak Park. By appointment.

John Riepenhoff's poster design at Suburban

Many new and established art galleries function as gallery spaces and homes. Outside the clusters of galleries, these spaces, such as Pilsen’s Antena, Oak Park’s Suburban and Albany Park’s Swimming Pool Project Space make room for art beside the furniture. Profit is not the motive; rather, it’s all about exposure, for artists and viewers, and creative expression. “We have an art world that doesn’t value artists,” notes Michelle Grabner, co-owner of the nine-year-old Suburban gallery. “Dealers and curators are running the shots, artists really don’t have the kind of control and decision making they once had.”

Filling that void, art spaces such as Suburban and Antena allow artists free reign in terms of artistic and curatorial control. Antena, a new space that opened in March, is run out of founder Miguel Cortez’s apartment. “Artists are allowed to repaint the walls, transform the space for a show,” Cortez says, who shifted focus to his new space after running Pilsen’s Polvo gallery for years. Polvo continues to publish a quarterly magazine with artist profiles.

Art openings at both Suburban and Antena provide a gathering spot for the arts community. At Suburban, openings now take place on Sunday afternoons in the yard of Grabner’s house, with bratwurst and beer during the warm months, coffee and sweets during the winter. Antena’s openings, which take place in Cortez’s apartment, are equally informal. And through these events artists gain access to networks and visibility.

“We are neither a commercial nor a non-profit space,” notes Grabner. And the same goes for Antena, which aims to be a forum for artists in need of a middle ground alternative space.

Swimming Pool Project Space, opened July 2008, appearing as a commercial storefront, provides a springboard for emerging contemporary artists from Chicago and abroad. Pool parties—openings that take place around the glossy blue wooden floor that resembles a swimming pool—provide a place for artists and community members to interact. “This where people meet, artists or not, it’s public space where conversation occurs, not a bar but an art space,” says co-owner Liz Nielsen. The next exhibition, “Video as Video: Rewind to Form,” is curated by art critic Alicia Eler and artist Peregrine Honig, and opens September 20. (Marla Seidell)

RECOMMENDED

Chicago’s Danny Mansmith shines in a perplexing and strange light in this eclectic collection of four fabric artists. The initially endearing story of Mansmith’s mom and grandmother teaching the young suburban boy to sew takes a darker tone when realization hits that this little boy wearing hand-sewn clothes was the ill-fated societal outcast. Though Mansmith’s wall-hung pieces like “Sewnland” breathe love and warmth, his large yarn human form, “Dark Doll,” is simply terrifying in a deliciously frightening and wonderful way. Also from Chicago, Deb Herman creates exceedingly intricate pieces—her tribute to 9/11 being the standout of her collection. Natividad Amador, famed Mexican fabricist, rarely shows north of the border so this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see her colorful skills. The unusual fabric sculptures of Veronique Leriche Fischetti depict Haitian Vodou stories. Knowledgeable gallery founder Laurie Beasley can retell each of the extraordinary tales behind the baby doll and fabric sculptures. There isn’t anything amiss among these four textile artists—a refreshing occurrence at a group show. (Rachel Turney)

“Fabrics and Fabricators” shows at Ridge Art, 21 Harrison Street, Oak Park, (708)848-4062, through September 14.

RECOMMENDED

The Nerve Gallery sits in the original location of the first gallery to open in the Oak Park Arts District twelve years ago. Ten artists are part of the Nerve Gallery cooperative and “I Draw Pictures” features works from the members and the mixed media of eleven guest artists. The exhibit is extremely diverse, but there are a few standouts. Ann Pasteur, a local teacher and member of the cooperative, shows a collection of large watercolors depicting strong and beautiful imagery on women’s issues, incorporating visions of the womb and fetus. Her pieces have all the power of a Frida Kahlo, but Pasteur uses muted colors and soft lines. Pasteur also sells small, single character paintings for an obtainable $25-$35. Bruce MacMartin uses the inner workings of mechanical devices such as phones and clocks to create unique sculpture pieces. MacMartin creates wall-hung pieces as well as freestanding sculptures in the likeness of humans. Steve Perkins, primarily a comic-book artist, shows a beautiful group of digitally arranged pieces. Sara Jones exhibits a collection of portraits of the victims of Jack the Ripper and Sarah McNeil uses punched paper to layer her pieces and create a distinctive textured look to her drawings. There are dozens of other drawings, paintings and sculptures on display at The Nerve Gallery, the best time to visit is the third Friday of every month when Oak Park hosts The Third Friday Gallery Walk. (Rachel Turney)

Through August 15 at The Nerve Gallery, 43 Harrison St., Oak Park. (708)383-0027.

By Jason Foumberg

For someone who loves watching videos, I was surprised to learn that Jefferson Godard got rid of cable television months ago. And yet there is no lack of something to watch in Godard’s apartment. With two rooms dedicated to screening his video-art collection, Godard can jump from his menacing Kara Walker shadow-puppet piece to any number of bluntly sexual works by emerging and established artists. In fact, Godard didn’t throw out his TV set, but placed it on the floor in the smaller screening room; it now plays the second channel of his Jay Heikes piece, showing a loop of a lit candle bursting into a rush of flames. While it’s a fairly typical habit to leave an unwatched television turned on for background noise, Godard instead leaves his video art on. There’s a cuckoo clock in Heikes’ video, and it punctuates Godard’s normal household activities with a craziness found only in a fun house—or an art house.

Godard has come to be known in art-collecting circles as The Video Collector from Chicago. This is a unique designation, as most collectors of contemporary art won’t limit themselves to a single medium. For Godard this began as a practical decision, as the medium is essentially immaterial and doesn’t contend with the furniture. After Godard screened a few videos for me, he pulled out a stack of papers and a book of CDs. These were the “official” works of art, he said, noting that what we were watching was simply the viewing copies. They could be replaced if deteriorated (say, scratched)—but not copied or distributed. This was detailed in the papers along with exacting specifications for viewing: the size of the room, the brand of speakers.

Indicative of Godard’s taste is the Brooklyn-based artist in his collection, Carlos Rigau. “Blackface Beyonce” contains two elements that can be seen across Godard’s library, namely the music-video esthetic and the theme of the macabre. In “Blackface Beyonce,” Rigau, dressed in wig and blackface makeup, sings wild-eyed and out of sync with Beyonce’s hit “Crazy in Love.” The piece ends with Rigau pointing a gun at his head. It’s at turns ridiculously offensive, ridiculously funny and, well, catchy. Music videos are ubiquitous in our iPod-ized world and in Godard’s collection. Collected artists Phil Collins, Brendan Codey and James Murray also appropriate music and give them vision in their videos. Additionally, the ability to shock the viewer is a common thread. The mixture of pornography and slavery, body modification and public execution, sadomasochism and homoeroticism also feature prominently.

Godard’s riding of the cutting edge is emboldened by his unique philosophy of perspective. As a freelance architect, he has a particular understanding of space. Living in the city, he explains, is tantamount to experiencing a film. The density of the urbanscape requires that we move with a special awareness of the fourth dimension. In this, time changes our relationship to the places we move through, and causes Godard to believe that “a city is filmic.”

It seems the limits of reality are defined by art. Godard’s sensitivity and thoughtfulness on this point recently led him to a commission to create the new Filter restaurant, which was recently kicked out of its Wicker Park location. The sudden loss of Filter was certainly surreal. Its sequel will soon sit near Milwaukee and Ashland, and its design will incorporate renewable technology.

As the co-chair of Verge, a group of young collectors associated with the Museum of Contemporary Art, Godard’s passion has become his specialization. The Verge group, composed of twenty or so members, convenes to discuss local, national and international emerging artists. Godard describes Verge as a “think tank,” but they are also philanthropists. Twice a year they confer to buy a work of art and donate it to the MCA’s permanent collection. As such, they educate not only themselves in emerging trends, but also the museum and its audience with the newest crop of art.

Godard explained to me that an art collector is not simply someone who goes shopping for Louis Vuitton handbags (obviously he has a bone to pick with the recent Murakami retrospective, which invited viewers to shop at an in-gallery LV store); it seems you need more than just money to buy art. Godard is a cultivator of relationships, and he sees his collection as a form of personal support for the emerging artists he enjoys. Unlike collecting stamps or coins, one needs to know a variety of people who know how to open various doors. As a child, though, he started out collecting orchids, and this fact adds a fairly sweet side to the wealth of perversity in the collection. Too much perversity would perhaps be too tame.

Jefferson Godard’s collection shows at Shane Campbell Gallery, 125 North Harvey, Oak Park. Part I (Phil Collins) screens through February 9, by appointment. Part II (Kara Walker) screens February 10, 2pm-4pm, and through March 16 by appointment. Part III (Brendan Codey, Jeroen Nelemans, Carlos Rigau) screens March 23, 2pm-4pm, and through April 20 by appointment. Other works from the collection show at Alogon Gallery, 1049 North Paulina #3R, January 26, 7pm-10pm, with additional screening times January 27, 5pm-8pm, February 3, 5pm-8pm and February 10, 5pm-8pm.