Michael Workman

It's a lively, warm night on the street out in Humboldt Park; people have caught the summer bug and seem relieved that seasons miraculously still somehow change. And thank God they do. As an art guy with several careers going simultaneously--art-fair organizer (one career that's quickly become a real beast), art writer and director of a not-for-profit organization--it was a healthy reprieve to get away from the levers of the art system, to stop thinking for a few hours about next week's trip to Dublin/Basel/London, of my duties as a reporter, about business deals in the works, to clear my head and to just roll out with my artist wife Marie and go see an apartment show.

That's the California Occidental Museum of Art, run out of EC Brown's humble abode at 1626 North California, a place I mentioned in last week's column. It's great to go see art in a place where you can walk back to the kitchen, grab a beer (if you drink--I don't, so it was orange juice for me), sit on the couch and talk with pals. These kind of places were once all over the city and a quick glance reveals the remnants: there's Von Zweck's apartment space, Polvo (go Polvo!) and Butcher Shop/Dogmatic (though BSD feels less grassroots, more pro now). The closest thing after that is Booster and Seven, which even though it's an apartment feels much too formal, and the West Town Network galleries, though they all want commercial legitimacy on one level or another. For a while I've just been loath to visit these kind of spaces because the mix of social scene and art-world business wasn't something I was comfortable with. Cool kids are cool kids, after all, because they're desperate for validation and need to hear that their work fits in somehow, no matter how spineless, badly made or vacuous. Too often, empty work wins cachet because a few smart people think they're seeing something that just isn't there. But it also has something to do with how pairing the usual sense of entitlement of fey young artists with more-supercilious-than-usual dealers--both of whom think they're better than others for bucking "the man"--starts the bullshit "you owe me a living" alarm ringing. But now, with so many of these artist-run alt-spaces having faded away, places like COMA have taken on a more rarefied air, slowly becoming more like the project rooms in primarily artist-driven dealer spaces like Bodybuilder and Sportsman or Bucket Rider, but without the cold shadow of necessary commerce. It's nice, comfy. Instead of conversations about what big-name collector or curator strolled through the door, you hear artists bragging their latest show, what obscure part of the world they've spent the last few months in or shows they're excited to see.

This night's show is COMA #4, each show being numbered in sequence and only up for a single night. What's nice about Chicago, as opposed to say, Miami, is that's there's much less apathy here and people actually attend. Sure, it's mostly local insiders like Michael Bulka, Marc Fischer and Brian Andrews back and visiting from California, but there's some fascinating experimental work on exhibit. By that I mean work like Stan Shellabarger's "contrail" photographs, two smaller prints of the blue sky crisscrossed with fuzzy white lines. They're caused, of course, when the hydrogen from airplane fuel combines with oxygen to create steam in the engine, leaving cloud-like trails in the atmosphere. They fit perfectly with Shellabarger's practice of "mark-making" performances, whether dragging his hand on a wall long enough to wear through the plaster or walking a deep trough into fresh snow. There were a lot of impressive works in the show: Stan's husband Dutes Miller had work on display, and there were a few photographs by up-and-coming photographer JJ Sulin (he's one to watch: check out his Web site at www.jjsulin.com). Annika Seitz got a room all her own--what looked like a bedroom that had been cleared out, the lights dimmed and a disco ball installed on the ceiling. A sofa to the right of the doorway faced a television monitor in the corner playing a video of an animal--a deer, an elk--tethered to a leash bolted into a white wall. As the animal moves back and forth in a limited circle from the wall, it's unable to break its bonds. Occasionally a figure enters the frame to pet or feed it. It's like watching a dog tied to a hydrant while the owner disappears for an hour or so. But the image of this frustrated animal perfectly captured the mood of artists in Chicago who feel ostracized, ignored and neglected by the larger art world, in an artistic coma. It occurs to me, sitting in this place of fellowship, that if we could get the city's artists, institutions and commercial interests behind the cause of Chicago art--though it would be like getting several clocks to strike at the exact same time--what a sight that would be to see.

(2006-06-06)

Also by Michael Workman

Eye Exam
New media art--art that integrates computers or technology in any number of different ways--suffers from an ongoing visibility problem
(2006-05-30)

Eye Exam
A certain subculture exists in online chat forums such as www.dollforum.com, with its nearly 15,000 members, to discuss the kinds of doll-ownership pleasures depicted in a new exhibition of photography by Elena Dorfman opening Friday at the River North neighborhood's Schneider Gallery
(2006-05-23)

Eye Exam
In recent years, conceptual art has given way to a wave of objects whose main qualities include a stubborn adherence to pleasing the senses, art that merely affirms and requires no additional involvement besides the viewer's approval
(2006-05-09)

Eye Exam
What a year. If Nova accomplished anything, it's having delivered a true art experience in this mess of a spring art-fair season
(2006-05-02)

Eye Exam
(2006-04-25)

Breakout Artists
(2006-04-25)

Eye Exam
(2006-04-18)

Eye Exam
(2006-04-11)

Eye Exam
(2006-04-04)

Tip of the Week
(2006-04-04)

Eye Exam
(2006-03-21)

Eye Exam
(2006-03-14)

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