In many regards, one might say that an exhibition such as The Great Refusal, which includes work by over 50 contemporary artists, comes at a time when gay culture and the concept of "queer" would seem to have achieved a certain amount of momentum in contemporary culture: perhaps look no further than its reflection in popular entertainment, media, and advertisements (i.e. the lengths that some advertisers went to proclaim their support for gay marriage in the aftermath of the Chik-fil-a debacle, to name one recent example of the latter) to understand the place of gay culture in the zeitgeist.
To others, however, this level of mainstream acceptance as "progress" reveals a certain tension in the LGBT experience: is there a danger of its culture being diluted or dumbed down by assimilating to a mainstream culture? In other words, does acceptance lessen the impact of queer aesthetics as a political tool capable of questioning the boundaries of what is indeed "acceptable" or otherwise suggest an alternative to the dominant culture? Artist Carlos Motta, whose project We Who Feel Differently just finished an exhibition at The New Museum, tackled this dilemma thru the lens of distinguishing "difference" from "equality" in an interview coinciding with his exhibition:
"The use of the category of 'difference' is operative and responds to the mainstream LGBT Movement's insistence on achieving political 'equality' in a way I consider rather biased and uncritical. Instead of challenging a system that is founded on exclusionary politics, the Movement has strategically assimilated those politics. A radical queer politic would not conform -- however utopic this may seem -- it would propose and press hard to transform perverse forms of legitimated discrimination."Related to the context of language, The Great Refusal is strongly concerned with use of the word "queer", which in an important sense involves a struggle that parallels other marginalized populations: to reclaim the active word from its bigoted pejorative use and convert it into a term of endearment -- or even, as is the case with "queer" at least, its eventual inclusion among the high lexicon of academia (i.e. queer cinema, queer studies, queer aesthetics, etc.). Regardless, what this transformation relates to is the process by which that population empowers itself -- and thru which ultimately a transcendent form of (self-) representation is realized.
Nick and I Playing Our Weekend at My Parents, 2012
from the series We Only See the Sky As It Was
And then, through that resultant vehicle of representation/depiction, we can view the artists' expression of perspective: artists such as Gregg Evans using vulnerable imagery or self-portraiture as a mirror towards notions of intimacy and desire (either their own or others); or intertwining queer issues with race and identity such as in the collage piece Made Men (2012), by Hannah Rodriguez; or in a section of the exhibition denoted "Bad Values", where many works focus on elements like fetishized objects, vulgarities, or undesirable body characteristics in order to suggest alternative aesthetics as detailed above.
Dealer, 2011
The Great Refusal serves as an excellent partner (though not officially related) to the Every breath we drew exhibition by Jess T. Dugan which opened last week at Schneider Gallery. These shows together form a commanding voice on topics related to the LGBT experience -- and in particular on the idea of powerful self-representation thru art (whose crucial timeliness in the face of ongoing controversy in the political sphere I pointed out in last week's post, though it bears repeating).
Untitled (Spray Paint), 2012
The Great Refusal: Taking on Queer Aesthetics
ongoing thru 10 November
artists' reception Friday 14 September, 4:30-7:00pm
Sullivan Galleries at SAIC
33 S. State St., 7th floor, Chicago
Meanwhile, many of the representational issues surrounding the Detroit, USA exhibition are somewhat well-known territory by now: thru whatever chain of events, Detroit has come to occupy a very specific symbol in the current American narrative -- that is to say, at a time of prolonged Recession-related financial hardship and uncertainty nationwide, Detroit has reluctantly become a modern poster child for economic malaise.
To be sure, there is something colossal about the historical narrative unfolding in Detroit, one which bears certain lessons and/or cautionary tales for other cities/states/nations: a result of decades of deindustrialization, suburban sprawl, white flight, housing discrimination, drugs and violence, political corruption, and more. What was once the 4th largest city (population nearly 2 million) in the U.S. at the height of its industrial prowess, Detroit has shrunk to a current population estimated around only 700,000, leaving in its wake nearly 90,000 vacant lots and 32,000 abandoned homes across the city.
However, even the imagery conjured up by those numbers falls short in its representational abilities, instead highlighting a certain discrepancy between how Detroit is portrayed by the media vs. outsiders vs. visitors vs. residents -- a dynamic that frankly plays out in economically marginalized areas all across the Rust Belt. As a former resident of Cleveland I can definitely identify with many Detroiters' sensitivity on this topic, as I'm sure people from Pittsburgh or Youngstown or Buffalo could as well -- Detroit, however, being the most slippery of slopes, at least some of which has to do with the overwrought and blatantly dismissive term "ruin porn", which goes some distance towards summing up the gaggles of outside photographers (many of them amateurs or non-artists emboldened by technological advances in digital photography) from far-off places who have flocked to Detroit to capture and disseminate images of its decay. Much of that imagery more or less achieves nothing, only confirming our preconceived assumptions about the condition of Detroit, or, at its very worst, embodies what Susan Sontag called "the predatory side of photography."
Pushing against that context though is where artists (and an exhibition like Detroit, USA) can transform the topic and its discussion. In embarking on a further investigation and a more localized, committed investment in the subject over a long period of time, these works reveal the deeper narrative of Detroit -- numerous stories that challenge the perception of Detroit as a dying urban wasteland. Stories of diligent and civically-engaged residents who have chosen to stay in the city and build a greater future there; residents who seize the city's current conditions as an opportunity to redefine their sense of community and to realize and experiment in alternative ways of living: re-imagining public spaces, farming the land, creating dynamic art, and more.
The Detroit, USA exhibition reinforces and emboldens those localized voices by focusing on works by Detroit artists and designers, in combination with ephemera from the city's archive collections and field work done by select SAIC students. Taken as a whole, the exhibition presents a variety of artistic perspectives as they intersect with Detroit's social and cultural fabric, natural environment, and built infrastructure -- prompting insightful explorations of the city. Further, the show collectively builds a compelling narrative about the joint efforts of nearby artists in responding to and working from the current conditions of Detroit, where the urban environment serves as subject, canvas, studio, and more.
For example, artist Catie Newell, founder of Alibi Studio in Detroit, creates site-specific projects (presented here through photographic documentation framed in a bold array of sliced metal) that investigate textures and materials; In Weatherizing, she experiments with material in a way that ultimately conflates interior and exterior space, particularly aided by how her arrangements transfer light.
from the Weatherizing project
© Catie Newell
Scott Hocking, a Detroit native and long-time resident, similarly utilizes found materials while focused on dual notions of site and relics. His work is no doubt influenced by abandonment and ruin -- but only as a source and not as an end point. His mixture of straight photography with site-specific installations and sculptures explores deep inside the city's crumpled buildings, illuminated in vivid detail by an almost serialized approach to his photography. Further, there is also a tangible sense of mythology in his physical sculptural arrangements, asking questions about forgotten places and their specific histories.
from the series Cast Concrete in the Auto Age
© Scott Hocking
Elsewhere, Corine Vermeulen, a Dutch transplant to Detroit in 2006, brings a photographic approach relying heavily (though not exclusively) on portraiture to center on the inhabitants of Detroit, revealing a sense of place thru the faces and experiences of its residents.
Ika and her son Malik, 2010
from the series Your Town Tomorrow
© Corine Vermeulen
Vermeulen's photographs add to the vision of Detroit as a city in transition, with an eye towards what the city's future could be -- or, as her series title Your Town Tomorrow implies, even the future of other cities, especially those dealing with similar post-industrial realities. Its that final point which makes an earnest and thorough understanding of Detroit so imperative: if the city represents some visualized historical concept, surely there are aspects that future historians will not include if viewed thru the prism of rose-colored, jingoistic nostalgia. At times it seems the U.S. psyche has developed an peculiarly selective memory about its own national narrative, and perhaps a notion of Detroit as profound illustration of the potential dangers in American-style capitalism may prove a bitter pill to swallow. For indeed, the importance of Detroit's overall story of Detroit could prove to be heavily about the future -- and again, as Vermeulen's Your Town Tomorrow insinuates, on the one hand the common perception of Detroit today encapsulates our collective fears about the future. However, on the other hand, that title could just as easily come to refer to a decidedly positive and transformative future, perhaps a yet-to-be-seen renaissance of economy, community, and way of life.Detroit, USA: Material, Site, Narrative
ongoing thru 5 January 2013
artists' reception Friday 14 September, 4:30-7:00pm
Sullivan Galleries at SAIC
33 S. State St., 7th floor, Chicago
