Carol Wax, "Writer's Blocks," mezzotint

By Steven Wirth

If you happen to be curious about the current state of affairs in the wide world of printmaking then look no further than the forthcoming Southern Graphics Council’s annual conference hosted by Columbia College and Anchor Graphics from March 25–29. Established in 1972, the Southern Graphics Council, or SGC as it is commonly called, is the largest print organization in North America, and each year its annual conference is the largest celebration of printmaking of its kind.

The conference itself means many different things to many different people: Read the rest of this entry »

By Jason Foumberg

Red Light for Green Lantern Gallery

Green Lantern, a contemporary-art venue and small-edition publishing house, recently received an unexpected visitor from the city’s Department of Business Affairs and Licensing. Gallery director Caroline Picard was cited for displaying a sign without the proper permit. For years a sandwich board sign sat on the Milwaukee Avenue sidewalk, in Wicker Park, right outside the gallery’s entrance. Picard said the sign lured a good number of visitors to the space, which hosts exhibition openings, performances, readings and, until recently, held regular open hours. The standard hours can no longer be maintained since, after citing Picard for the sign, the city official inquired about the gallery’s business license. Green Lantern is established as a not-for-profit, but no license was ever acquired. Picard paid the $440 fine, which she ceded was fair since the space is partially commercially zoned, but attempts to resolve the license issue at city hall have proved complex and frustrating. This may be in part to Green Lantern’s mission as an alternative art space, which is difficult to properly classify. With its neighbors in the Flat Iron Arts Building, the Green Lantern is one of the last vestiges of a formerly robust arts district in Wicker Park. For now, events must be deemed “private,” but visitors can expect an attendant on hand to open the door during what used to be the open hours. Best to call first, though.

Matthew Paul Jinks currently shows at Green Lantern, 1511 N. Milwaukee Ave, 2nd floor, through March 13.

Not For Sale

Would it be strange to encounter art listed NFS (not for sale) in a commercial gallery? This label is sometimes applied to an artwork that an artist simply cannot part with, but gallerist Rowley Kennerk instead uses NFS as a keen strategy. Currently his eponymous gallery is exhibiting two paintings from private collections alongside two paintings available for purchase. Kennerk’s strategy, which he employs often, pairs well-known artists with emerging artists, and the result seems more like a curated exhibition than a gallery show. Exhibiting well-known work by important artists establishes and maintains credibility, says Kennerk, for both the younger artists and the gallery itself. “The gallery is not simply a showroom of goods, but a space in which assertions about culture are made,” says Kennerk idealistically. Currently, a work by Llyn Foulkes, born in 1934, who’s had large retrospective exhibitions, and a painting by Enrico Baj, an Italian of Foulkes’ same generation, are hung with paintings by gallery artists Molly Zuckerman-Hartung and Malthias Dornfeld. The good company certainly lends a boost to their resumes, and the private collection loans round out a theme on contemporary portraiture.

Of course, cultural value and monetary value go hand in hand. Recently The Art Newspaper pointed a finger at the Rose Art Museum for lending a Willem de Kooning painting to a commercial venue, Haunch of Venison in New York. The museum’s director defended the loan with an editorial in a later issue, justifying the intellectual completeness of the gallery’s exhibition. Woefully, the museum’s board has since decided to sell the museum’s entire collection, a move that was not anticipated at the time of the loan, but sheds an indecorous light on the de Kooning, which now may or may not be inflated in value due to the excellent company it kept in the New York show.

“Portraits” shows through March 21 at Rowley Kennerk Gallery, 119 N. Peoria St.

The More the Merrier

If the art market is drowning, then perhaps now is the perfect time to trot out smaller, more affordable works. Prints and other small edition works can often pack as much punch as a major sculpture or painting. Several galleries in Chicago are taking advantage of collectors’ shrinking budgets for art and, with the influx of print lovers for the upcoming Southern Graphics Council conference, are putting on large shows of small works. Dan Devening released a new series of multiples, his third such collection. More than eighty editions are on view in “Max Multiple,” from editions of three to 100, ranging from $1 to $3,000. There are some gems here. New Catalogue prints pair famous Minimalist sculpture with designed objects such as the slinky and the parking cone. Adam Pendleton screenprints on mirrored steel. You can grab a bumper sticker conceived by Philip von Zweck for $5 (“Honk if you love silence”) or a poster for $1 by Jason Pickelman. There’s also some sculpture in the shape of functional objects, such as Cody Hudson’s vases and Im Schafer’s porcelain cups—at least that’s what they may be. For good measure Devening exhibits some works from his collection, including selections from the En/Of series, where an artist designs LP liner notes and album cover for a musician.

“Max Multiple” shows through April 1 at Devening Projects + Editions, 3039 W. Carroll.

The year 1950 saw India signing into effect a new constitution, officially marking the nation as a republic free from British rule. One year later, Ealing Studios, England’s oldest film-production company, released the film “The Man in the White Suit,” a satire starring Alec Guinness as a befuddled, good-natured scientist whose invention of a glowing white fabric that cannot deteriorate or stain is meant as an altruistic gesture towards the common man. Yet, the material threatens to undo the entire textile industry and is instead met with hostility and alarm, particularly by labor unions.

India’s independence and the release of the film, two events (one historic and the other quite banal) at first seem mutually exclusive. Yet, for English artist Mathew Paul Jinks, who generations later now works and lives in Chicago, there is something of a post-colonial parable betwixt the two—particularly considering that India is today one of the greatest exporters of textiles, an industry employing millions and millions of people, and fraught with tricky, trans-national power relations.

For Jinks’ serene, thirteen-minute film project “The Queen’s Tailor,” on view now at Green Lantern Gallery, the artist has loosely cast himself as the Alec Guinness character getting a suit made by two Indian men—one man (Parveer Singh) is a Sikh in real life.

This is certainly not a literal reinterpretation of “The Man in the White Suit.” Instead told through a series of pensive, meditative vignettes that stream between physical and metaphysical moments, “The Queen’s Tailor” presents a very ordinary but complex set of questions for today’s global day and age: Does the production of this item (the white suit) participate within a colonialist structure? Or, has reconciliation somehow been reached, making this okay? Or, is it just overly PC to really worry about any of it?

Jinks doesn’t pretend to know the answer. “The piece considers what it means for this group of people, myself included, to pass through this ‘third space’ here in America, forming a strange kinship while together re-enacting a kind of colonialist relationship,” says Jinks, borrowing a term from theorist Homi K. Bhabha, excerpts from whose book “The Location of Culture” repeat throughout the film.

A subtle cross-cultural glimpse at the play between appearance, gentlemanliness, nation and custom is also at work in “The Queen’s Tailor,” particularly as we watch Jinks receive a haircut in the presence of Singh (the Sikh), whose turban covers hair kept long for religious reasons.

“The push and pull of these uncomfortable moments may be a bit naughty,” says Jinks, who frequently appears as a figure within his own work, “but it is through enacting these moments that perhaps a new kind of understanding can be formed.” (Danny Orendorff)

Through March 13 at Green Lantern Gallery, 1511 N. Milwaukee, second floor. By appointment.

RECOMMENDED

If you don’t already know how to check your tits and/or balls for cancerous lumps, you can learn everything you need from Shannon Gerard’s installation currently on view at Green Lantern Gallery. Despite their purported educational value, Gerard’s screen-printed illustrations work best as comedy rather than straightforward instructional material.

Jennifer Wilkey’s photographs of knitted and embroidered objects in hospital settings combine the warmth of handicraft with the sterility of medical institutions. The objects themselves, such as a doctor’s mask embellished with embroidered microorganisms, or cups of pill capsules stuffed with green fabric, seem more at home in staged photographs than on display in the gallery.

Clare Britt and Derek Haverland address consumer culture in conjunction with pathological illness. Haverland’s installation of stacks of stark white credit cards, reminiscent of pristine medical settings, recalls economic issues surrounding healthcare and the pharmaceutical industry. In a similar vein, Britt’s wall collage of found images from fashion magazines only relates to illness in the context of this exhibition. A swirling black mass of Fendi and Versace labels, shoes, jewelry, and sunglasses, brings to mind a tumorous growth or a magnified pathogen, as well as consumerism as a kind of sickness. (Jamie Keesling)

Through February 7 at Green Lantern Gallery, 1511 N. Milwaukee, 2nd floor.

RECOMMENDED

The work of Kari Percival and Greg Cook, both Boston-based artists, couldn’t be more different in terms of concept and form. Illustrator and puppet-maker Percival explores the earthy delights of the natural world in her brightly colored woodcuts. “Free Swim,” which details a beaver swimming on its side, reminds us of animals’ symbiotic relationship with the out-of-doors. Percival’s forest-greens pop with lush fecundity, urging us to become more in tune with our natural surroundings as well as our primal urgings, such as moving one’s body without restraint. The map of the world made out of felt, spread out in circles on the floor, and Chicago’s latitude—composed of dangling fuzzy yarn balls—strikes a less interesting note. Bits of stone on the map scrawled with messages like “hunger moon” and “deer loose antlers” may appear more comprehensible to the artist than audience. In sharp contrast to this romp with God’s creatures and planet Earth, Greg Cook paints a compelling picture of humankind’s “despicable” nature. Cook implements American history to shows us an interrelation between early American settlers’ obsession with “victory” and present day horrors of Iraq and Guantanamo Bay. Cook’s phallic missile made out of bed sheets alarmingly addresses a sexual lust for war, reinforced by a banner of pilgrims cutting down the “savages” (Native Americans) with machetes. A black-and-white cartoon strip depicting dehumanizing torture of prisoners at Gitmo drives home the message that our indigent treatment of others says much about our culture.  Cook demonstrates that “defeating the enemy” is a disguise for genocide, greed and oppression. (Marla Seidell)

Through October 4 at Green Lantern Gallery, 1511 N. Milwaukee, second floor

RECOMMENDED

Amanda Browder, mad scientist of scavenger art assemblage, uses hundreds of fabrics to stitch together a surreal and disorienting world in which anything seems possible. Upon entering Green Lantern Gallery one is greeted by a plump gorilla, arms dangling on the floor, face a woolen patchwork of winter scarves and sweaters, eyes clusters of gaudy gold buttons. The gorilla’s greeting is a vomited stream of multi-colored ribbons and beads spilling out on the floor. Beyond the gorilla is a twelve-foot lightening bolt that might be made from your father’s neck-ties and favorite houndstooth jacket. There’s also a floor-to-ceiling tornado made of polka dots, paisleys, strips of bedding with images of cats and shiny polyesters, all swirling up cotton ball dust clouds where it touches the ground. It’s easy to imagine that Browder might have crafted microscopic plush towns and citizens to populate those dust clouds. A ceramic rabbit sits also on the floor, peering into a large canvas propped against the wall. Behind the canvas lie cut-out vinyl letters that spell “Your ship has sailed,” a reoccurring theme in Browder’s show. The canvas itself depicts a boat made of more found fabrics, with ribbons being spit forth from the prow to the floor. Choppy black and white waters bear this ship along to its unseen destination, a place we can only guess given Browder’s vivid childlike vision. The only thing one might ask is to see more of her work in one place at one time. She clearly has a world in mind. We’d like to experience more of it. (Damien James)

Through June 28 at Green Lantern Gallery, 1511 N. Milwaukee, 2^nd floor, (773)235-0936.

By Jason Foumberg

It’s too tempting to not report “overheard at the art fair.” In front of a painting by Neo Rauch, one shopper said to another, “The thing about art is you don’t have to like it.” You don’t even have to see it, either; just order it by name. “Names, names, names, darling!” (Okay, that one was from “Absolutely Fabulous,” but the sentiment holds.) For one whirlwind weekend we had to put our care for meaningful art practices on hold in the hope that Chicago could contribute to the still-thriving art market. Inviting investment collectors and shopaholics to Chicago was to be the nourishment that would sustain thoughtful and quietly productive practices for the rest of the year. The shop-‘til-you-drop atmosphere was further emphasized by the mall-like layout of the fair with rows of boutiques and impeccably dressed gallerinas. The art was almost as good as the people-watching.

Not everyone was distracted by price tags and designer-wear. Justin Polera, curator of last year’s Queer Fest Midwest, rushed me over to see a painting by Keith Haring of Mr. Softy, the 1980s brand icon for ice cream, here turned into a muscled gay icon in Haring’s hand. In the Next fair, artist John Parot swooned over works on paper by Jason Fox. Copies of Proximity, a new art-criticism magazine founded by Version Fest originators Ed and Rachel Marszewski, was being distributed freely despite us being, according to its editors, “in the throes of a recession.”

Printed to coincide with the fair weekend, Proximity highlights some of Chicago’s best alternative spaces such as the Suburban, Vonzweck and Deadtech. These are non-commercial art spaces that hardly have any relation to the huge art-fair commercial enterprise. Surprisingly, several of Chicago’s apartment galleries found their way into the fair, especially in the Goffo-curated arena, organized by Mike Andrews and Noah Singer of Imperfect Articles, the limited-edition artist t-shirt company. So, Old Gold, Green Lantern and Alogon Gallery, known for their usually experimental presentations of art and opening-night celebrations, looked like professional business ventures. Some of the strength of these spaces was drained by their lack of character. For instance, I’m used to Caroline Picard’s cats rubbing against my legs as I look at art in her apartment, and Old Gold’s artists seemed estranged without the wood-paneled basement. But the effort to mingle with the masses was well received. Exposure and accessibility was key for these spaces that don’t sit snugly in the usual gallery districts. Even ThreeWalls, the non-profit artist residency, was given a castoff stairwell space to feature an artist project. This refreshingly giving gesture by the fair’s organizers muted the pay-to-play scheme, even if only momentarily. Elizabeth Chodos called her space the coffee bean in the perfume shop, calming noses between wafts of scent.

Next door to the Goffo section was the Old Country bar, arguably my favorite place in the entire fair. This functioning temporary installation of a dive bar, provided by the Old Gold gallery owners, replicated a quintessential Chicago bar frequented by so many artists. With TV tuned to Nascar, lights dimmed, cheap beer and nachos, old wooden bar and booths, and plastic red-and-white gingham tablecloths, this could have been Inner Town Pub or Skylark. It was a great place to calm the eyes and engage in non-stressful conversation. It was easy to forget that you were in the midst of an art fair.

In the Next fair, the newest addition to the Artropolis conglomerate, small solo artist exhibitions broke up the pounding rhythm of the stalls, as did film screenings interspersed between the galleries. The solo shows, including some by Chicago artists Robert Davis and Michael Langlois, Matthew Girson and Terence Hannum, provided in-depth perspectives where we are otherwise often overloaded with too much to see.

Art about the environment and about war was present, but thankfully not in overkill. Large-format photography, conceptual practices, “unmonumental” sculpture, skulls and skeletons were in attendance en masse. Even Jonathan Schipper’s kinetic sculpture, presented by Pierogi gallery, of two hotrods smashing each other in tense slow-motion, seemed hedonistic even if it was titled, “The Slow and Inevitable Death of American Muscle.” Profound? Perhaps. Decadent? Delightfully so.

While Andy Warhol’s dollar sign still holds up as the dominant signifier for this type of event, Mark Wagner’s reconfigured collages of actual dollar bills, presented by Western Exhibitions, speak more to the creative depth that artists are willing to plunge into when interpreting the art/money relationship. Perhaps it is a flat relationship where desire is represented as that which will fulfill it (the Warholian scheme). But increasingly more artists and viewers are looking to reenergize the market, and their desires, with objects worthy of their wallets as well as their senses.

It’s Leap Night at Wicker Park’s Green Lantern gallery and twin brothers Andy and Ben Kehoe are celebrating not only the opening of their first joint exhibit together, but their first show in Chicago. The High Life flows and so does the room full of friends and art lovers interested in the burgeoning talent of the twins’ new paintings. Titled “The Safest Place in the World,” the name conjures a bit of irony. According to them, the safest place may be a fallow field seething with marauding Crusaders, gi-normous hairy monsters and personified birds and sheep inflicting acts of violence on others. The violence juxtaposes itself with insidious, intrepid and droll images.

The guys traveled to Chicago from their hometown of Pittsburgh, a city better known for sports teams than art. Since graduating college a few years ago, they’ve shown their paintings in group shows in L.A. and New York and in their hometown. Both of them are also illustrators. Ben’s comics appear in anthologies and Andy’s in The New York Times Op-Ed section. Ben injects acrylic and gouache on panel while Andy blends acrylic and oil, giving his work a richer sheen. Motifs of brownish fields signifying death, leafless trees and archetypes of boozing shepherds, gruesome crows, scoundrels and masked killers licking ice cream narrate their action-orientated paintings.

In Ben’s works, impalement and decapitation are reoccurring themes. Tree branches embattle people, cutting through their limbs. In “Accidental Transference of Death,” a man tries to hang himself from a tree only to have the branch break and impale his lady on the way down. “Severed Head and Ghost Head Make Uncomfortable Eye Contact” epitomizes its hilarious title combining material and spiritual worlds. In one of Ben’s earlier works, “Gut vs. Heart,” he explores friend versus foe as two Crusaders shake hands with one holding a knife behind his back as the other grips a bouquet of flowers. (Sometimes you can’t trust your friends.) Andy’s scenarios encompass despair with a slight hallucination of hope. With “Feeding Life,” crisp, red autumnal leaves tumble onto the ground where a devil-like creature lurks six feet under. “Optimism Rises from the Dusky Weald” contrasts the former with a birdman levitating above a forest of trees.

The characters in these paintings metaphorically search for endless truth and quietude while being subjected to impending doom. As desecration unfurls, the Kehoe brothers smirk at the danger ahead. (Garin Pirnia)

Ben and Andy Kehoe show at Green Lantern, 1511 North Milwaukee, second floor, (773)235-0936, through March 29. 

RECOMMENDED

We are living in uncertain times filled with the anxiety of being here one day and gone the next. The group exhibition focuses on military conflict, juxtaposing serious political themes with the prosaic. Nancy Sophy discusses the Lebanon-Israel conflict with her series of paintings entitled “Lebanon, July 12, 2006.” Through her colorful pastel sketches, she tries to assuage the situation. Tadashi Moriyama shows his animated video, “Flight Home,” a trip through space on which one doesn’t reach his or her destination. Hiro Sakaguchi’s military acrylic paintings contrast images of suburban life with artillery invasion. “Hibachi Night” shows a grill cooking food while flames shoot up as planes fly into the fire. Jamie Treadwell’s rose hued paintings speak louder than bombs. He uses children suburbanites and plants them in martial situations. In “Night Watch,” a little boy wears a helmet and sits on guard in a space-age-like boat ready to fire. The stark black background emphasizes the objects. “Training Camp” features a little girl wearing a camouflaged bathing suit immersed in a kiddie pool, suggesting loss of innocence at a young age. Finally, Duncan MacKenzie and Christian Kuras give “Vitrine,” two sirens encased spinning around silently, radiating urgency. Here, art sheds light on our deepest fears. (Garin Pirnia)

Through Feb 16 at Green Latern Gallery, 1511 N. Milwaukee, 2^nd floor, (773)235-0936.