William Powhida

Dunkle Wolke

an exhibition organized by William Powhida

Bill Abdale, Crime & Punishment, Graphite on Paper

From I See a Darkness, Bonny ‘Prince’ Billy
well you’re my friend
(it’s what you told me)
and can you see
(what’s inside of me)
many times
we’ve been out drinking
and many times
we’ve shared our thoughts
but did you ever, ever notice
the kind of thoughts I got
well you know I have a love
a love for everyone I know
and you know I have a drive
to live I won’t let go
but can you see its opposition
comes a-rising up sometimes
that it’s dreadful and position
comes blacking in my mind

and that I see a darkness
and that I see a darkness
and that I see a darkness
and that I see a darkness
and did you know how much I love you
is a hope that somehow you you
can save me from this darkness

__________

Jenny Vogel, from the series Like A Blind Man in a Dark Room, Xerox Transfer

The artists in Dunkle Wolke are people I consider to be friends, or at least people I’ve shared a drink and a discussion about art with. They are artists who also have some experience with darkness in all its forms from the purely formal to the emotional weight of loneliness. They talk about darkness as a condition of their environment, history, politics, a color, or personal relationships that often takes on the form of what Bjoern Meyer-Ebrecht describes as an ‘ominous shape’. For me, the ominous shape is an expression of anxiety about the production of art and a search for meaning in an often chaotic world where historical narratives break down into reality without the authority of history and moral intention. Through the process of putting reality into a narrative, we attempt give it meaning making it a contentious site to be written and unwritten giving rise to a tension between form and language.

David McBride, Cave Painting (Honey In the Rock) I, Oil on MDF

These tensions between reality and history, language and form are present in the works of the artists, all of whom I think about when I consider art’s relationship to the authority of history and its certainty of intention, which I do not share. Bill Abdale’s series of large-scale charcoal drawings examine the surfaces of the books he has read including Dosteyevsky’s meditation on morality “Crime and Punishment”. Through the process of reproduction, Bill traces what has been lost, scarred, and destroyed through use and interpretation. Ellie Ga’s performance, “Catalog of the Lost”, seeks to rediscover what has been presumed to be lost to history by exploring the fate of an arctic expedition. Her photographs in the show, “Fissures” are beautiful documents of her own 5 month arctic expedition, which was as much as an inward exploration as it was of the environment her ship became literally frozen in. David McBride’s dark paintings of grottos and sunsets contrast starkly with his own abstract forms, painstakingly rendered with subtle corruptions of color and registration. The tensions between the precision of his CMK process and touch create an anxious state that is mirrored in the curious relationship between representation and abstraction in his paintings. They share an uneasy co-existence that also marks Bjoern Meyer-Ebrechts sculptures and re-assembled books. The relationship between Modernist theory, represented by soft cover textbooks, and their abstract supports is uncertain, undermining the authority of both. This textual cityscape is also paired with black hard-cover books Bjoern has reshaped into angular, winged forms that imply another kind of horizon in space, echoing the tension between flatness and depth in all the artists’ pictoral space. Jenny Vogel’s video of a slowly spinning meteorite perhaps encapsulates these tensions, as the alien form threatens to invade the world, scraping against the surface of the screen. It may also be the ultimate ominous shape, a truly free-floating darkness that rises up in opposition.

Bjoern Meyer-Ebrecht, from the series Untitled (4 Book covers - black)

All of the works are equivocal representations of time, distance, and space with unfixed beginnings and end points that remain ominously close to darkness and the ambiguity of vision. They question our certainty about history, but they don’t give in to chaos. They are rescued by beauty, maybe even love without sentimentality, a love for process and possibility that art can provide some meaning and relief to the anxiety of living. Even I have to believe that sometimes.
-William Powhida

44 1/2" x 7', graphite and adhesive on paper. Photo: John Michael Kohler Arts Center (www.jmkac.org)

Photo: John Michael Kohler Arts Center (www.jmkac.org)

Photo: John Michael Kohler Arts Center (www.jmkac.org)

On view at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin as part of the exhibition, Hiding Places: Memory in the Arts

Courtesy of the artist and the Triangle Arts Association Benefit

Last night I debuted this drawing about a few New York art critics I read with some regularity, though not all by choice.  The drawing is available for the benefit of the Triangle Arts Association.

Dear Rachel Wetzler,

Just a few thoughts about your critique of “I Like the Art World and the Art World Likes Me”, which I found to be excellent.  It’s refreshing to encounter strong analysis.

“here is an implicit populism to the exhibition, a trumpeting of each artist’s outsider status, or at least a sense of frustration with the art world’s perceived exclusivity, but a great deal of the work hinges on the viewer’s ability to pick up on insider-only references, exacerbated by the exhibition’s lack of sufficient explanatory texts for conceptual projects.”

“is likely to be unintelligible to anyone unfamiliar with the coterie depicted, raising questions about the genuine potential of this sort of work as social commentary.”

These feel like straw man arguments in so much as Minimalism remains unintelligible to anyone unfamiliar with theory and the history of Modernism.  The old refrain “My kid could do that,” comes to mind.  We can always find things most people don’t understand about art, and anyone who can find the Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts already knows something about the artworld.  I think it’s a disservice to the audience to  assume what they don’t know or that they are not capable of learning anything more about the subject if they are engaged and curious about the art work. Most art, and not just “Hooverville”, require some education and knowledge for deeper appreciation, and it is possible to learn from and about a work of art.  I hope my collaboration with Jade, specifically, might provide points of entry for those with less specific knowledge of the players in the art world and the class issues that cause my own ambivalence about participating in it.  I can’t believe it completely excludes people who haven’t read ArtReview’s Power 100 or been to Chelsea at some point.

Even without specific knowledge of exactly who is being depicted in ‘Hooverville’, I think the casual viewer may still relate to the situations being presented from whoring oneself to popular revolt.  The potential for broader social commentary is probably the easiest to identify considering the ongoing revolutions in the Middle East and the protests spreading out of Wisconsin over labor rights. (Conversely, conservatives understand whatever it is the Tea Party rallies about).  These are serious issues, affecting far more people than art, which is part of the point of the drawing.  As Ben Davis points out the art world is not separate from society. It is a false separation used to justify its own elitism and phenomenal prices.

As for outsider status, in a star system, the vast majority of artists in society are on the ‘outside’.  I think it’s one of the implicit subjects of the show, but the term ‘outsider’ conflates a number of issues from academic training, geography, to an artist’s individual track record.  During the panel discussion, neither Jen Dalton, Loren Monk, or myself claimed to be outsiders, and if we are, it’s not by choice.

“The “established art world” is treated as a fixed entity towards which an attack might be levied, allowing Doeringer and many of his chosen artists to avoid actually offering an exploration of what it constitutes.”

The established art world includes ‘established’, ‘mid-career’, and ‘emerging’ artists, art fairs, commercial galleries, museums, non-profit art centers, widely-read critics, theorists, academia, and publications to name a few aspects. I think most of these are addressed throughout the show in some manner, although academia seemed to get off the hook.  Michael Waugh’s CAA thesis abstract mash-ups would have been an excellent inclusion.  He randomly edited over fifty of them together and they still sounded perfectly plausible.

In the catalog, Doeringer classified the artists by their dominant mode of practice; Appropriators, Documentarians, and Critics.  I don’t think Doeringer intended the show to only be about critique, but to also include those artists using it as material.  It seems your primary criticism of the show is built on an assumption that it only about institutional critique, not subject or source material for an artist’s practice.  That is no more solipsistic than Modernist painters making art about its own formal limitations.

“The exhibition offers a compelling, if chaotic, look at artists’ own insights into the world they occupy and what it means to be an artist today, but fails to cohere into a convincing critical statement–or to present an idea of what a better art world might truly look like.”

I’d turn that last statement back on you, Rachel.  What do you think a better art world might truly look like?  Jen and I asked ourselves that question after Miami in 2009, and we developed a problem statement for #class.  We then spent a month along with a few hundred people discussing it, but I feel #class only achieved the first half of your final sentence. I was allowed to peer into the chaotic art worlds many people occupy and learned perhaps more than I’d liked of what it meant for them to be artists, unknowns, mothers, uninsureds, art handlers, dealers, collectors, critics, friends, enemies…  What I ultimately learned from #class is that people can’t even articulate what the problem or problems are, let alone agree on them in order to even think about what the solutions might be despite the clarity of Jen Dalton’s work, many other feminist artists, and the entire school of institutional critique.  I am also paraphrasing an economist I heard on WBAI a few weeks ago who was talking about how the general public can’t begin to grasp the magnitude of the mortgage crisis, the bailouts, or the fact that 80% of the population control only 15% of the country’s net worth.  These are also problems that require complex answers, that most people do not have the specialized knowledge to address, yet continue to adversely affect the majority of our country.

This requires that people educate themselves, which is unfortunately, a lot of work.  Thankfully, we have books like “Griftopia” and films like “Inside Job” to help make that easier (I’m being serious).  I don’t think it Eric’s responsibility to produce solutions anymore than the individual artists.  Some are responding emotionally or intuitively, while Jen Dalton tackles it analytically allowing the data to speak for itself, which is damning enough.  She doesn’t even need to editorialize the results.  The viewer just needs to take it in and the conclusions justify her inquiry into questions that “put a bee in her bonnet”.  She poses no solutions herself, leaving that responsibility to the viewer.  While the results of her inquiry into gender inequality, which you confirmed via another study, clearly shows a problem we have been well-aware of it persists despite the opening of the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for feminist art at the Brooklyn Museum.  This persistence of class, gender, racial, and economic disparities are visible in all aspects of society, not just the field of art. Left with this dismal analysis, one might want to do something about it.  I make drawings, that’s how I feel useful when I’m not teaching.  What the show makes clear after you have assessed the data and identified some problems, we are left still looking for ways to prompt action through provocation, debate, discussion in hopes that enough people might arrive at some tentative agreement to work towards solutions.  This is why I think the show may leave you less than satisfied, because while the problems may seem self-evident, the established art world carries on if they aren’t.  Most of its stars are busy cozying up with fashion houses, selling expensive trophies, or hosting the Oscars.  Fuck them.

Best,

William Powhida

Installation shot

From 2-5pm this coming Sunday, March 6, please come visit the Failure Desk, a new collaboration between William Powhida and Jen Dalton.  The artists will be gathering public thoughts on failure through short, semi-anonymous discussions.  Conversations will be recorded and transcribed anonymously. Participants will be compensated.

The Failure Desk at Lu Magnus Gallery
55 Hester Street on the Lower East Side
New York, NY 10002
http://www.lumagnus.com/events.html

So, just show up and take a number.  Our assistant will be with you shortly.

30" x 44", Graphite, watercolor, colored pencil on paper

If These Walls Could Talk – A Conversation opens Feb 12th at Marine Art Salon from 6 – 9pm and Feb 19th at Charlie James Gallery from 7 – 10 pm featuring new works on paper.

Dear Jeff Koons, Graphite, colored pencil, and watercolor, 2011

Fuck that previous post.  See above and below.

READYKEULOUS
The Hurtful Healer: The Correspondance Issue

January 14 – February 13, 2011
Reception:Friday, January 14: 6-8pm OPEN MIKE: Verbal Abuse Fest 2011
Live performance-response by Mike Albo & other furious peoplesSaturday, February 12: 4:30pm
INVISIBLE-EXPORTS
14A Orchard Street, New York, NY 10002 | 212-226-5447
info@invisible-exports.com

INVISIBLE-EXPORTS is pleased to present Readykeulous: The Hurtful Healer: The Correspondance Issue, an exhibition by Ridykeulous. Participating artists include, but are not limited to, Ali Liebegott, Allyson Mitchell, Bernadette Mayer, Carolee Schneeman, Catherine Lord, Chuck Nanney, Daniel Feinberg & Rhyne Piggot, David Wojnarowicz, Dr. Weeks, Eileen Myles, Gary Gissler, Genesis Breyer P-Orridge, Glen Fogel, Harmony Hammond, I.U.D. (Lizzi Bougatsos & Sadie Laska), Jack Smith, Jibz Cameron aka Dynasty Handbag, K8 Hardy, Kara Walker, Kathe Burkhart, Kathleen Hanna, Kathy Acker/Dennis Cooper, Laura Parnes, Leidy Churchman, Louise Fishman, Mike Albo, Nao Bustamente, Nicola Tyson, Simon Fujiwara, Tobi Vail, William Powhida, Zackary Drucker, Zoe Leonard …and other special selection from the patriARCHIVES

Founded in 2005 by A.L. Steiner and Nicole Eisenman, Ridykeulous has appeared at the Kitchen, New York; Leo Koenig Projekte, New York; Bronx Museum, New York; MoMA PS1, New York; and Participant Inc., New York, among others. 
Dear World:

We’d like to invite you to our show because we need to re-educate you about The Situation, specifically, or perhaps more generally speaking,the issues of right and wrong, because “right” now, you’ve got it all WRONG.

Some things that are wrong:

1.     A certain type of man of which there are many, all of whom rule the world and torture—literally—us, for no reason (see our travelbrochure/exposé Stoning for Pleasure and Profit in Many Countries)and all that really needs to happen is your wives roll over and stab you in their sleep, problemo solved!

2.      Wake up! Machines are needy little takers.

3.      The Lack of Sleep/Christmas/Corn Syrup Chain of Signifiers/Absence of Leisure Time To Make Art and Write etc./OurEducational Cultural Indoctrination System Which Turns LumpenDull-Witted Three-Year-Olds Into Massive Raving Homo-Bashing TumorsStewing In Hot Tubs On Their Own TV Shows/Axis of Evil. We’re ALL TheBiggest Losers.

4.      The military-industrial-pharmaceutical-artworld complex

5.      Animals in captivity, including the loss of all carbon-based life forms

6.      Domino effect, Chinese accordion, string pulled on sweater, Russiannesting dolls

7.      Plastics & pesticides (in your tits!)

8.      The greater the massacre, the bigger the Xmas bonus

9.      Unending Ice Capades of Destruction

10.     Everyone’s desire to be happier than everyone else’s desire to be happy

For these reasons and more, you, World, really need to come visit usin 300 square feet of luxurious, non-denominational, nonlinear,spa-like atmospherics of the gallery Invisible-Exports (that’s the name of the gallery). Your visit will be rewarded by mind-expansion and tax cuts for the rich. BYOR! (Bring Your Own Road!)

Your BFF 4-Ever,

Ridykeulous

P.S. Our show is called Readykeulous: The Hostile Healer (The Correspondance Issue) because we have chosen at this point in time to highlight our letter-writing skill-set.

In my original post about #rank, I argued that there were too many events going on back to back without enough time for reflection.  Having time to casually discuss what we were attempting to do at #class, as I’ve said, was an important access point for visitors.  Another thing that also helped people drop their defenses was beer.  I know it doesn’t sound like much, or that maybe we both have drinking problems, but turning a commercial gallery into a ‘think space’ took a little more than putting chalkboard paint on the walls.  We also had to find other ways to make such a passive environment into an active social space.  It turned out that most people who came to our discussions were more than happy to have a beer, or six.  It wasn’t a raging party by any means, most people had to work the next day or had grown comfortable with the booze industry’s refrain “enjoy responsibly.”  As #rank approached, Hrag Vartanian wrote “Mandie’s is the coolest art project in New York.”  I didn’t know what Mandie’s was, but I quickly found out that Andrew Ohanesian had built a compact, ostensibly two-person bar at Arch Space in Bushwick.

I ended up at Mandie’s late one night with Jade Townsend after some openings in Bushwick.  We crowded into the tiny bar with a rather large group of people.  I think I counted 13 at one point, but then again, I was wasted and had started arm-wrestling various patrons.  Eventually, with Andrew’s encouragement, I punched a hole through the wall.  The next day, my torn up knuckles and terrible hangover reminded me what a great time I had at Mandie’s.  I immediately told Jen about the bar, hoping that maybe we could convince Andrew to bring the project to #rank.  Jen and I had already budgeted about $500 for beer for #rank, and Mandie’s came ready-made with a refrigerated keg on tap.  When Ed visited Mandie’s on a tour of a few spaces in Bushwick led by Austin Thomas and Jason Andrew, he thought it would be a fantastic idea.  Andrew was also incredibly enthusiastic, and agreed to get Mandie’s to SEVEN and become part of #rank.

Down in Miami, Mandie’s was without a doubt, one of the coolest things at SEVEN.  I have no proof that it was one of the best installations in Miami, since I only saw Aqua for an hour on Wednesday night, but I’d make that assertion anyway.  Mandie’s provided exactly what a good bar should, a quiet place during the day to hide from the world for a beer and a private chat with and old friend (or a total stranger depending on were you are at with your alcoholism).  During one of the days at #rank, I had the pleasure of talking with Helen Toomer, a former assistant director at PULSE and Dylan Fareed of Artlog.  Having caused a bit of disruption at PULSE in 2008 with Jade at our Lemonade Stand, I was a bit apprehensive around Helen, but it turned out she no longer worked at PULSE.  We had a nice discussion about the fairs and shared a bit of gossip over beers.  If #rank had that same vibe, which could have benefited from a room with an entrance and exit, I’m sure there would have been more opportunities for such informal and informative discussions.  While the option to hold #rank upstairs at SEVEN was an option, we did not want to ghettoize the project, and remain a part of the the fair.  I just found that the balance between public and private titled a little too much towards display.  Mandie’s was an ideal environment for talking about art and the fairs, not because it is an awesome dive bar, but because it is art.  It’s impossible not to think about what art is and can be when you find yourself transported by simply stepping through a doorway.  I told Andrew and his assistants, Pedro and E-man, that I loved Mandie’s so much, because I felt like it had been built for me (I hope everyone feels like that about art once in a while, too bad I can’t afford Mandie’s).  Partly because I like to drink beers, alot, but also because I tried to build a little two-person bar-themed confessional in 2005 for Parker’s Box IAM5.  It was sort of amazing to see a fully-realized version of a what amounted to a 3-D sketch on my part.  Andrew’s skill-set puts mine to shame, and if I ever try to re-stage the artist’s confessional, he’s the first person I’d want to talk to about creating it right.  The authenticity of Mandie’s was a major part of what made people grin in awe then drink a beer and stay awhile. Speaking as an artist, I learned from Andrew how far you can take an idea from conception.  Unfortunately, we never had time to arm wrestle down in Miami.  That’s my only regret about the project.  Well, that and the kegerator Andrew scoured Miami for broke down after the first day resulting in some seriously foamy beer for the last two days of #rank.

Aside from Mandie’s we also hosted four durational project ‘stands’ at #rank.  Sean Naftel’s Free Art Stand was a major success, giving away over 150 pieces of art by unknown and emerging artists.  He told me a South American artist who contributed work to the project sells his prints for $3,000.  Sean was dealing a range of excellent work for free, and I could hear him talking about the artists and their work all day.  He even managed to place a triptych with a MoMA curator who said she was donating it to the permanent collection.  For me, personally, that is an amazing success for Sean’s project and the artists who donated their work to the project.  It wasn’t just a free art stand, but a place where price ceased to matter in relation to how the collector or perhaps more appropriately, the caretaker, valued the work.  I didn’t get any details if there were any conditions to taking work from the art stand, but it allowed a large number of artists to have their works placed with art dealers, other artists, serious collectors, and maybe people who wouldn’t have been able to afford the art being offered at most of the fairs.  For the majority of people in Miami, even a hundred dollars can break the bank.  I mean, a new washing machine can be had for $700 dollars.  Once art gets past the price of major appliances, it’s easy to see how sticker shock can set in,  ”How much?! For that?! What the fuck is it?!”  Regardless, the art fairs are not aimed at middle class wage earners, and the reverse may also hold true for certain collectors; if the art is not sufficiently expensive, then it must not be important enough.  Without getting into the thorny debate about artists deserving to be paid for their labor, I think Sean’s stand was all about access and getting some artists past the border patrol of the art fairs.  Jen and I made it a point with #class and #rank to try and keep it from turning into a salon style group show of frustrated visual artists.  We didn’t really want their ‘art’, rather we wanted their frustration, experience, and ideas related to the hierarchy of the art world.  Sean was able to ‘sneak in’ a large number of artists and used the pre-text of the art stand  and the lure of ‘free stuff’ to engage the audience.  It worked, quite brilliantly, and I am hoping to post the list of artists who had work placed through the free art stand.  While the project may not support artists economically, it may have fulfilled other affective needs like the desire to be recognized and have their art reach an audience.

In a similar vein to Sean’s project, Destineez Child set up a booth of unusual, low-fi art ‘products’ at bake sale prices.  I apologize to Destineez Child for never taking a moment on the hectic first day to talk with them.  Again, this was a downside of the schedule, something was always happening at #rank that dragged me away every time I got curious about the funky table behind us. It’s also a bit disappointing that I also didn’t see as many collectors engage Destineez Child, perhaps because even the nominal prices kept them at arm’s length.  It’s absolutely crucial to note that even a $5 dollar price tag seemed to be a psychological barrier for the audience, but perhaps that was the point for Destineez Child.  Their campy art products seemed designed to bring the lofty assumptions about what art is back down to earth through their playful display.  It was pretty hilarious to see paper plates stuck on our #rank column with handwritten prices.  It was evident by the lack of interaction with the fairgoers that Destineez Child’s humorous take on art and commerce seemed to keep the fairgoers at a distance, which may not be bad thing. It added to the tension between between the art and the commerce taking place all around us.

The other table/booth projects that took place on the last day of #rank were Sarada Rauch and Barish Gorkturk’s Guidance Counselor table and Identifier Corp’s Hello My Name Is artist re-branding station.  Both projects engaged the public on Saturday, and I was able to participate briefly in both, although I will have to recover my re-branded identity on the Identifier Corp website.  I can’t remember what absurd name I got, but they were all pretty hilarious.  Identifier Corp was run by two artists going by the names Pumkin Folgers and Corduroy Jackson.  I also happen to know both artists real names from our shared time as undergraduates at Syracuse University, but pre-branded is no brand.  According to Pumkin, Identifier Corp handed out nearly 200 new artistic identities through their proprietary database.  The artists were giving out name tags with the memorable names that seem to be a prerequisite for contemporary artists; Banks Violette, Cory Arcangel, Banksy, Blu, Slater Bradley, Dash Snow, or whatever combination of sounds that evoke privilege, skateparks, and video games.  Thankfully, I’ve already been tagged with a phonetic interpretation of a Slavic handle by some well-intentioned Catholic nuns in upstate New York seventy years ago.  That accidental re-invention seems appropriate to Identifier Corps project, which gels nicely with one thing Jen and I learned at class “Don’t be boring.”  Unfortunately, my partner-in-crime goes by the boarding school handle, Dalton, but still manages to find numerous ways of subverting any expectations of such a well-heeled name.

But, boarding school and Miami share some things in common; gossip, cliques, peer pressure, and the never-ending quest to be ‘cool’.  Those pressures were the subject of Sarada and Barish’s Guidance Counselor table, where they shared intimate conversations with the audience.  Seriously, you had to put on eye-glass frames (so no one could see you) and talk through a plastic tube to ensure privacy in the open environment.  I won’t share the content of my conversation with Sarada, but it was a much necessary conversation that I really needed at that moment.  Despite the humorous framing and communication devices, the talk was emotional; part therapy-session, part tough-love.  In some way, the short time I sat with Sarada and Barish, I realized that the conversation we were having was not happening around us.  It would have been a major accomplishment if we could have carved out a space that could have allowed for such unguarded, empathetic talk that I had with Sarada.  I don’t think we could have ever achieved the kind of intimacy that Sarada and Barish rather brilliantly hosted through very modest means, but it was a project that I imagine could have spanned the entire duration of #rank, providing people with the necessary excuse to really say what they were feeling.  The art fair week in Miami prompts any number of emotional reactions from people, as they encounter the social sorting that separates the haves from the have nots.  I believe Jen actually saw two people crying during their private sessions.  I don’t think that is an uncommon emotional reaction to the aggressive sorting that forces people to acknowledge where they are in the social and cultural hierarchy of the art world.  You can’t pretend that the art world is an egalitarian place when you don’t have a VIP card or your  name on the right list for the best, most important parties with beautiful people.  Sarada and Barish also provided some handouts for trying to make unsense out of the pressures facing the miami fairgoer.  It was, for me, a very generous project that I would highly recommend to anyone willing to address their own feelings of inadequecy and lack that the fairs cultivate so well.

Anyway, I’ve been protesting censorship today, but there are more events to reflect on at #rank that I will continue in this series of posts leading up to and beyond our #rank discussion to be generously hosted by Edward Winkleman at his gallery December 30th.  We will have details regarding the follow-up soon.

One of our participants, Rebecca Goyette, feels that she was treated unfairly at #rank because she feels that she was asked to cut her performance short at #rank.  Jen Dalton asked Rebecca if she felt like she had accomplished her goals and was satisfied with having one full day of wearing a lobster costume and hugging visitors to SEVEN.  Rebecca indicated that was cool with her.  In my previous blog post, I was trying to clarify that Jen and I did not censor her performance, and nobody is able to concretely say who asked Jen to approach Rebecca with the question, and now I will try and layout our correspondence here regarding Rebecca’s proposal, my response to the duration, and it is was made very clear in her proposal that Rebecca said she wouldn’t be wearing a lobster outfit. That said, I expected we might see a lobster claw somewhere, knowing her previous work. We also didn’t stop Rebecca immediately and say “this isn’t what you said you were going to do,” and ask her to change her outfit.  We also did not ask her stay immediately in the vicinity of #rank because we never told her in our correspondence that she had to.  We didn’t know what the boundaries of what a  ”winkleman” booth would be, or what #rank would occupy until the dealers hung their shared exhibition space.  There were no booths per se, which makes it hard to clarify the boundaries.  She performed in costume all day Thursday.

I want to say clearly here that I do not believe ANYONE at SEVEN or #rank censored Rebecca’s performance and that any notion that occurred should be attributed to the failure of all parties to speak clearly about their intentions and desires.  Anything that happened is an unfortunate outcome of poor communication.

The below is Rebecca’s project proposal sent for us…I’ve updated this to only include the relevant part about the costume from her project proposal:

“I will wear the same Art-Fair-appropriate designer attire for each of the four days.”

Here are  my exact words to Rebecca regarding the duration of her performance:

“Rebecca,

We might not be able to host the hug station everyday. What day would be your preference?”

Here is a summary of what Rebecca said:

‘Let me think about it’

Here is my exact response:

“Ok, let’s plan for thursday def, its a good day and maybe [emphasis mine] part of fri afternoon when people are getting run down.” I thought people might need a hug towards the end of the day on Friday. I know I did!

Rebecca’s response:

“wicked.”

That is the end of the dialog about duration until Thursday evening when Jen asked Rebecca is she was satisfied with having a full day at #rank, which she told Jen that she was.  I think it’s clear that we told Rebecca that Thursday was definite, and Friday was a possibility.  We also were operating under the good faith that she would be dressed like a ‘professional’ art dealer.  Looking at the correspondence, I think everyone at SEVEN and #rank made allowances for Rebecca and that by wearing the lobster outfit, she achieved ‘collective discomfort’ and subverted everyone’s expectations.  Cheers Rebecca, but this isn’t censorship, and I was wrong to even suggest we were going ‘down that road.’  My apologies to everyone at SEVEN for suggesting that Rebecca was censored when we made allowances for the change in costume from the original proposal, or that we failed to clarify with Rebecca what the boundaries of #rank were within the fair.