Staying Alive - various artists, various galleries and museums, Chicago, Illinois

Art in America, April, 1999 by Susan Snodgrass

Although Tough was considered a for-profit gallery, it was one of the few spaces where one could find work of a noncommercial nature. Transitions in leadership, and diminishing government funds and community support, caused veteran not-for-profits N.A.M.E. and Randolph Street Gallery to close their doors in 1997 and '98 respectively [see A.i,A., Nov. '98]. The conspicuous absence of public-art advocate Sculpture Chicago from last spring's sculpture-related events points to this organization's uncertain future. Losses like these mean even fewer venues for artists working in less traditional mediums, performance art and interdisciplinary or new-genre forms. While such contractions have diffused the collective spirit that once defined the alternative scene, they have also inspired some experimental ventures, often spearheaded by artists, outside the existing commercial and nonprofit models.

One of the more interesting examples is "7562LR," a series of auto-related artists' projects named for the license plate number of painter Matthew Girson's black Chevy pickup. "7562LR" began in September 1997 when Girson parked his truck in River North on the opening night of the season and dished out free rocky-road ice cream to gallery-goers. Subsequent encounters--the series lasted for nine months--could be had by contacting the artist, who picked up passengers at their front doors and took them for a ride.

Some works, like Michael Piazza's Tattoos, mounted on the driver's side window, were actually "exhibited," although most projects were performative in nature and required viewer participation. Dave Bailey's Casing, for example, instructed passengers to enter a convenience store and convince the clerks to turn off all the store's lights in order to take a snapshot with a disposable camera provided by the artist. (Unfortunately, my own efforts at carrying out the instructions were unsuccessful.) Austrian Barbara Holub's Driven was two-fold. The first part consisted of an audio narrative of conversations with prostitutes, which the viewer listened to while blindfolded and driven by Girson through some of the city's red-light districts. This section of the piece ended with the viewer selecting from the dash either an inflatable breast "flattery" or an "armpit stimulator," then filling out a questionnaire on the erotic merits of the overall experience. The second part of Driven took place at Art 1998 Chicago, where a male dancer named Drew stripped to his Day-Glo orange bikini. "7562LR" ended last May, but Girson is exhibiting documentary material on the works and will organize future projects under the same title.

The elusive "Quiet," an exhibition curated by sculptor Michele Feder-Nadoff, was of a completely different order. Seven artists created site-specific works for a vacated watering hole on the city's northwest side, subtly playing off the interior architecture. (So subtly, in fact, that while I was there two casual passers-by wandered in from the street in search of beer, remaining completely oblivious to the art.) Particularly poetic were Kathleen McCarthy's barely visible screens made from nylon filament installed between waist-high tables, and Raye Bemis's thin lines of wax, tar and tobacco discreetly placed around the edge of the tavern's wooden bar. Charles Wiesen's Peripheral Hysteria, ordinary clothes laid out on the front sidewalk, was wonder fully mundane, while in the women's restroom Walter Andersons's Mondrian Madness, a small text painting whose subject and title are lifted from graffiti found in the men's room, elevated the profane to the prophetic.