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Despite a plethora of rhinestones and gold paint, “The Treasure of Ulysses Davis” really is a trove, with more than a hundred woodcarvings by Ulysses Davis (1914-1990), the self-employed barber of Savannah, Georgia, who whittled away his free time reflecting on storefront church theology and whatever other culture and American history he had picked up from grade school, magazine advertisements, talkative customers, and even a few books on African art. He was a hard-working man, and probably his biggest job was raising nine children with his wife in the house behind the barber shop. The best part is the bestiary of monsters, lovingly and obsessively crafted, the frisky kinds that inhabit the margins of medieval manuscripts and seem to bedevil the lives of anyone who tries to walk the straight and narrow path in a world constantly under attack by the Devil. These little beasties are never absent, but still, the salvation of the world can proceed through faith and hard work, and so the largest carving in this exhibit is a gentle but determined Christ upon his cross, bleeding for mankind. Read the rest of this entry »

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The proliferation of tattooing in American life has led to its seeming legitimization, as evidenced in the media through shows like “Miami Ink.” Or perhaps the appearance of tattoos in various cultural conduits—sports, cinema, etc.—has led to their mainstream adoption? Whichever the direction of this cause and effect, it would be difficult to find someone who hasn’t, at some point, wandered into a tattoo shop and flipped through books or perused display posters while contemplating that impromptu commitment to permanence. Read the rest of this entry »

William Hawkins, "Last Supper #6"

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Outsider Art may be the chief recipient of derision from the public at large, which frequently sings the refrain, “my 6-year-old could’ve made that!” The childlike desire to create something is entirely different than the overwhelming need to make something, however, and that need, compulsion even, is clearly evident at Intuit’s current show. Read the rest of this entry »

Lee Godie, "Sweet Sixteen," c. 1973-74

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A Chicago original, the self-described “French Impressionist” Lee Godie brought a breadth of personality to her work, subverting the art establishment with a passion and a lack of formal training. Since being discovered in front of the Art Institute in 1968, Godie, a vagrant, drew crowds with her innate ability to accentuate natural and fleeting beauty in an urban landscape. Crimson, maroon and azure birds accompany paintings of spiraling leaves on a wall at Intuit. A row of daisies repeats in the style of Andy Warhol against an alternating blue and red backdrop. Perfume vases fall on each other rather than stand in a row. A double self-portrait with wide eyes includes Chicago’s glowing street lights. Godie’s writings emphasize her unique personifications of nature: “Neath the tall spreading tree birds and squirrels drink there [sic] tea. Each one takes a dainty sup from a tiny a corn-cup [sic].” Photo-booth photography shows her wit, as Godie adds color to her lips and shows a range of accoutrements from frayed hair and paintbrushes to berets and scarves. The flare in her eyes and amused smirk is contagious, bringing viewers into Godie’s intriguing world whether she’s in her outdoor “studio” or fanning herself with five and twenty-dollar bills. (Ben Broeren)

Through January 3, 2009 at Intuit, 756 N. Milwaukee.

RECOMMENDED

Each year Intuit displays works donated to their permanent collection. This is the first time the annual exhibit has come from a single source. The Ricco/Maresca Gallery in New York donated twenty-four paintings collected over five years largely from thrift stores, and the gift extends Intuit’s collecting mission beyond “outsider” to amateur. Most of the paintings are oil on canvas in the style similar to something one might find on the wall of an aunt’s lake house. Yet this exhibit is not about the beauty of the painting itself but rather the mystery behind the paintings. A few of the oils are dated generally between 1930 and 1980, and many of the pieces are signed, though little is known of the artists. Who were these artists? How did the paintings end up in secondhand shops? What else did the artists create and where are they now? These are the questions that come to mind as one peruses the gallery. Perhaps this exhibit will inspire other amateurs to pick up the brush, for one day their works could go from a flea market to a gallery wall, too. (Rachel Turney)

“Sunday Painters: Discarded Paintings by Gifted Amateurs” shows at Intuit, 756 North Milwaukee, (312)243-9088, through January 3.

RECOMMENDED

Nazi rams, winged cats, hermaphrodites, impenetrable power plants, lingerie-clad fetish girls, hydrants spilling filth into the streets—perversions both natural and manmade factor into the drawings of self-taught artist Chris Hipkiss (born 1964 in a suburb of London). Culled mostly from American collections and curated by author and Mellon Fellowship recipient Annie Carlano, “Chris Hipkiss: Drawings” gathers a decade’s worth of medium and large-format works in Intuit’s main gallery. Working mostly in pencil (with sporadic traces of coffee, red ink, gold and silver leaf), Hipkiss arranges his compositions with an obsessive eye for line and detail. “In Europe A.G.E. Feral” (1999) organizes horizontal rows of flailing, sore-covered women, a diagonal run of dying trees and an arrangement of feeding bowls labeled “sick” to startling effect. The immense “Doddington” (1991) is pure optic overload: ribbed phalluses, barbed wire, hyper-sexualized women and stereo speakers all compete for the viewer’s attention. “A Lucy for the Threes” (2004) forces an uneasy juxtaposition of nature and industry with its inclusion of the text “IOWA” (known unofficially as the “Tall Corn State”) and a solemn procession of prison-like structures. “Talus Sexus: Our Little Fetish of C” (2004) offers the written passage “Make my heart a fake whisper,” which makes one wonder if Hipkiss is praying for calm or emphasizing the real screams of the natural world as man goes about his dirty business. (August Forte)

Through Aug 30 at Intuit, 756 N. Milwaukee, (312) 243-9088.

With her resume boasting an extensive career with Leo Burnett and exhibits chair at Intuit: The Center for Outsider Art, one might expect something markedly less subdued for Jan Petry’s first solo show. “Juicy,” however, is an exhibit in simplicity, featuring fourteen works of organic wooden sculpture. The sculptures, reflective of Petry’s history as a collector of folk materials, are crafted largely of simple found elements. To call these works minimalistic would border on understatement: solitary blocks of maple, walnut burl and cedar mounted on pieces of ebony or bound with rawhide spot the gallery, each unique, though overwhelmingly similar. “Let Them Eat Fake,” one of the more playful works in the collection, features a single hunk of walnut burl resting upon a sterling silver plate, generating an amusing resemblance to crumb cake. Petry’s whimsy is the crux of her show, but is unfortunately relegated to the titles of her works. Without their monikers, Petry’s woodwork is reduced to fine sanding and rich tung oil finishes—sometimes, not even this: “Primary,” a single branch of unfinished cedar mounted on an ebony plank, is stripped of its charm when anonymous, particularly when held in contrast to the carefully tended knots and oiled grain of “Survivor.” The craftsmanship found in “Juicy” is undeniable, yet the true richness of this exhibit is hidden in Petry’s witty titling, not her varnish. Perhaps the artist’s next show will more successfully align the two. (Jaime Calder)

Through June 28 at Carl Hammer Gallery, 740 N. Wells, (312)266-8512.

RECOMMENDED

If you think that mug shots are small, standardized administrative documents of abject moments in the lives of suspected perps, your prepossessions will be forever changed when you see them blown up to super-size in contemporary prints in which their subjects take on an expressive individuality worthy of the finest portrait photography. Sure, some of the anonymous petty miscreants who have been resurrected from graphic designer Mark Michaelson’s massive collection of outdated images are decidedly unsavory, but others are attractive and, taken together, they evince the entire gamut of human emotions from despair through defiance to an unexpected good humor. We tend to forget that although sitting for a mug shot is a strictly formalized disciplinary procedure, its impersonality gives subjects the freedom to respond according to their discretion or the impetus of their mood—this is hardcore humanism. (Michael Weinstein)

Through April 12 at Intuit, , 756 North Milwaukee, (312)243-9088.