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![]() Fly buttons Wearable art downsizes
In a brightly lit storefront on a dark stretch of Damen Avenue during
the Friday the 13th opening of Around the Coyote, two tall young
brunettes in matching midnight-blue mechanic's jumpsuits are making
change. It's the one-night launch of So-and-So's Button-o-Matic, aka
"Chicago's Smallest Art Gallery." Christen Carter started Busy Beaver
Buttons seven years ago, producing creative badges for bands, artists
and other self-branding types. Carter and employee Rosie
Saunders--"Rosie's a presser"--got the brainwave to market one-inch
buttons with "wearable art" created by painters, illustrators and
conceptual artists, their names signed along the rims. In two weeks,
"when the new mechanisms" are installed, the pair will begin
distributing to Reckless Records, Lula Cafe, Weekend Records, Atomix,
Danny's Tavern and Barney's, among others. Tonight, however, it's
like a Wicker Park twentysomething house party complete with keg and
alphabet crackers and Cheez-Its. (Plus "Totally random persons" from
ATC, as Saunders puts it). Twenty machines are in action, each a
transparent bubble vending one button for a quarter. The opening's kind
of a public tryout. "We're road-testing for the bad kids. I know which
ones are the bad kids now," Saunders says. "We definitely had a lot of
kink-working-out, so it's kind of good," Carter says. "We weren't
sent some of the right parts." The yank and whir of the machines, the
sound of quarters clocking, the raised voices, it sounds exactly like...
"an art casino," Saunders says. There are a hundred or more designs in
the quarter slots, including a surplus of anthropomorphized animals.
I'm studying Arthur Jones' wide-eyed little bear. "A panda on acid
getting a surprise enema in public," a pale woman with scarlet lipstick
says over my shoulder. Jesse Vala's designs include a confused kitten
on a field of blood red; Kim Ambriz has collected hogs in repose, and
Andy Moran's work is all about a raccoon who's an impassioned lounge
singer. (The other conspirators include Archer Prewitt, Jessica Abel,
Butchy Fuego, Paul Koob and Matthew McClintock.) At the entrance, a
(real) pit bull sniffs the ass of a black dachshund with identical
coloring. Gambling compulsion sets in. "Gotta get more, gotta get
more," a man says, shaking his head back and forth. "I'm going back
in." "I got a complete set. It took me awhile," a grinning girl says,
a fist filled with quarters, the other shaking out generic painkillers.
"I want the owl--Is that what it is?" A tiny woman tells no one, "I
don't know what the hell I have." It's an hour past the planned
closing. "Ya wanna get beers 'n hang out here?" a bed-headed man asks
his friends. Outside, in the cool air, figures passing, the pit bull's
harness blooms with buttons. So it was fun? "It was more of a success
than a disaster," Carter says. She thinks for a moment. Actually, it
was "kind of an overwhelming success."
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