Subtext Projects

By Claire Ruud

David Horbitz, Installation View: Everything Must Go, 2009.

It’s refreshing to see the newly-minted Subtext Projects pop up around Dallas, an area well known for its inhospitable ecology when it comes to emerging artists and alternative spaces. Subtext, a collective of young curators and writers based in the Metroplex, caught my eye this summer with their first project, Everything Must Go. Curated by two of the three founding members, Alison Hearst and Erin Starr White (the third is Stephanie Ball Piwetz), Everything Must Go transformed Fort Worth Contemporary Arts into a storefront window display. The exhibition and an accompanying screening brought together work by artists who, in one way or another, engage with the idiom of marketing. Recently, I caught up with Hearst and White to hear about Subtext.

…might be good (mbg): Tell me about the impetus behind founding Subtext Projects.

Subtext Projects (SP): We saw a need for a dynamic, evolving organization to work outside of the institutional framework of the area’s gallery and museum scene. Our work together as Subtext Projects really gained momentum when Gavin Morrison from Fort Worth Contemporary Arts approached us about coming together during the summer to use the gallery for an exhibition. Once we began to discuss the possibilities for this collaboration, the two of us soon realized that we had been independently conceiving parallel projects and ideas—thinking of finding exhibition spaces, hosting renegade art exhibitions, sparking a dialogue in the area that was conspicuously absent. It seemed natural that we work together as a group to exchange ideas and formulate these projects.

We recognized that, while the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex has many art institutions, there is a dearth of collective, grassroots organizations and alternative spaces that successfully energize many other cities. We feel that this area has a wealth of serious, dedicated artists making quality work. It is our aim to create a space for their work to be seen alongside that of artists from across the country and the world. We believe that it is important for us to collaborate with area artists, bringing them into the group as joint curators, for instance. So far, the blending of work from local artists with artists from around the world has been successful in leveling the playing field, so to speak. Once the constraints of focusing on “regional” or “international” work are lifted, really interesting juxtapositions and conversations are launched.

mbg: On your website, you call Subtext “a democratic group.” Practically, how is the group organized?

SP: The members of Subtext Projects ebb and flow; there are the core three of us, plus guest curators and artists. Once the team has been set for a specific show, the members have equal voice in the project and are invited to contribute ideas relating to every aspect of the curatorial process. Ideally, this structure supports the free exchange of ideas amongst members and visiting members, and allows the group to function as an integral component of our area’s art community by utilizing the brilliant minds and talents of artists and art historians in our own backyard!

mbg: As you developed the mission and structure for Subtext, what historical or contemporary models were you looking at?

SP: In fashioning the framework for the group, we looked at contemporary collective models, such as Orchard in New York and Curating Degree Zero. Although we compared notes, so to say, with such collectives, our structure really developed organically from the perceived needs our community. It is paramount that our group enfranchises a range of views and approaches; this is something we attain by opening membership to a diversity of voices.

mbg: How did you develop your first project, Everything Must Go?

SP: We were given use of the gallery with the understanding that viewers would be barred from physically entering the space. As the gallery is affiliated with the University, they do not staff gallery attendants during the summer months. We immediately began to think about the implications of this format—for the viewer, the work, and the interaction between the two. From the outset, it was amusing and appropriate to exploit and work with the stipulations we were given.

As our planning for the exhibition took shape, a more nuanced view of this set-up developed. Fort Worth Contemporary Arts occupies a formerly commercial space in a mini-strip shopping center. This history became an added layer to what we started to see as subterfuge. By this we mean that, as we installed work, passers by took heed and began to scope out what we were doing; they thought we were having a sale! This was especially true during the installation of Chu Yun’s Unspeakable Happiness. We even had to turn a few people away. Ultimately, through the project, we wanted to explore the many facets of contemporary consumerism in our culture, as well as its ties to contemporary art. By featuring a semi-plausible site of commerce, a successful questioning of purchasing behavior and consumer expectation came about.

mbg: For me, Everything Must Go draws up a variety of associations, from the contemporary gallery system, to Claes Oldenburg’s The Store, to Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset’s Prada Marfa. What were your reference points for the project?

SP: Oldenburg’s model was certainly a part of our mind-set as we located and approached artists about the inclusion of their work. We also thought a lot about the shift during Andy Warhol’s career in the late 1950s, when he purposefully and definitively made the switch from being a graphic artist to a fine artist. His Bonwit Teller department store-window displays foreshadow Warhol’s later mining of consumer culture in his now ubiquitous artworks featuring commonplace goods, such as Campbell’s Soup and Brillo boxes.

But Warhol was very clear that the work he made after his declaration that he would now be an artist was to be given different consideration altogether. It served an alternative function to selling mass-produced, mass-consumed objects. Or did it? We were curious as to how work made in our postmodern climate fares when compared to advertising and commerce. Who makes such divisions and how does the placement of work in a window display alter its message? How does a work’s context deliver itself to the viewer, and how does the relationship between the two change, especially when the storefront is not a true, working storefront? There’s a palpable sense of rarification that occurs once the work is placed behind a glass divider; it was a bit shocking how the feel of the art changed. It was quite illustrative of contemporary modes of viewing objects of consumption.

Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset’s Prada Marfa is an interesting comparison; it also presents desirable commodities—shoes, in this case—that are unobtainable to the viewer in the closed, unoccupied “Prada” storefront. While certainly commenting on the gentrification of Marfa, it blurs the lines between sculpture, commercial display and advertising, which was a key interest of ours in forming Everything Must Go. Prada Marfa mingles the status-indicating effects of collecting and desiring luxury shoes and artworks through this type of display. The storefront pulls one in, almost as if a mirage within the desert. Our aim was to highlight the links between the storefront and the gallery space, with special attention to the mechanics of desire that operate within both realms.

mbg: Okay Mountain is planning an installation for Pulse that mimics the typical Texas convenience store. While your project references (somewhat) higher-end sales displays, I’m wondering whether you think there’s something about this moment that makes explorations of the commercial space particularly timely.

SP: Certainly the diffusion of opportunities to peruse and buy just about anything in every combination—be it on the Web where one can purchase everything under the sun, or the local shopping mall where a diamond watch and a salted pretzel are consumed as part of a weekend’s work—has promoted a sort of confusion regarding where we need to invest our attention. This glut of options, rather than opening a cornucopia of possibility, seems to do the opposite by boring us with material goods. When just about anything is readily available, acquiring becomes an empty gesture. So perhaps this is part of the reason that the system of rampant consumerism as diversion is being addressed. The seduction of an object lessens once it is yours—but the urge to own it is always there. We see artists really tapping into the vacuity and absurdity of such a vicious cycle. In mining this fertile territory, which may seem almost too easy, some truly provocative and edifying points are being made. There is undoubtedly not a dearth of material to investigate here, either.

mbg: What’s the next project you have in the works?

SP: While we are focusing on new exhibitions and creating proposals for local and statewide spaces, we are also keen to seek out other collective groups with which to collaborate. We are also currently developing film screenings, conducting artist interviews for our website, staging small renegade exhibitions, and hosting thematic talks and lectures for the Dallas/Fort Worth community.

Claire Ruud is Editor of ...might be good.

On Residencies: Sterling Allen, Harrell Fletcher & Vijai Patchineelam

By Claire Ruud

Sterling Allen.

Sterling Allen, Harrell Fletcher and Vijai Patchineelam offer their thoughts on artist residencies.

...might be good (mbg): What’s in it for you?

Sterling Allen (SA): Before I attended a residency, I thought you were there to just spend all day and night making work, just crank it out. However, shortly after my arrival at my first residency, I realized that working like that isn't necessarily the most productive activity. I still approach residencies as an opportunity to make work, but I also approach them as an opportunity to get my thoughts straight, to do research and simply to spend uninterrupted time in the studio. Even if you live as a full-time artist, in your day-to-day life you inevitably have social obligations, dinner, phone calls, unexpected events, distractions at home and so on. A residency affords an artist time “alone”—not just blocks of time in the studio, but a number of days in a row to concentrate on nothing but progress in the studio. For me, it is still very possible to make work at home, but investigating new ideas still comes best in a residency setting.

Harrell Fletcher (HF): There are different types of residencies, the retreat style ones don't appeal to me much anymore because I'd rather just stay home and play with my two year old and work in the garden if I have spare time. Another type is a project residency, which I do often as a way to get to know a place I'm making a project for, so in that case it offers me the opportunity to spend time in a location and develop ideas. When I was younger and transient the retreat style residencies were useful as a way to avoid paying rent.

Vijai Patchineelam (VP): A residency offers me a break from my usual routine. I enjoy the fact that once you arrive in a new place you have very few obligations; you don’t know anybody, you don’t know the area at all, and you have no established habits. Because of this you are, at first, left with a lot of free time, which can lead to boredom. I think that’s a good thing. Of all the residencies I’ve been to, my favorite was the one at which I was least connected to the world. No internet, no TV, and I was not even living in the city center. The only problem was I had no access to a library; a library is a very good thing when you are bored.

mbg: How do residency programs affect the type of work you are able to create?

SA: For me, a residency is where I do my conceptual work. The time and solitude allows me to expand ideas, try new things and not worry about wasting time. This helps me to broaden possibilities for subject matter, scope and scale. If you are presented with a large space and plenty of time with no one really looking over your shoulder, you might try some ceramics or making drawings. If they fail, they fail, but the residency allowed them to surface. In that respect, the sky is the limit. That being said, you are usually far from home and the work must return with you somehow. That is why for me it is a place to conceptualize. It is difficult to take an entire installation back home with you, but ideas travel light.

HF: Once again I'm not really so into the idea of going off to an isolated place to do studio work, that's just not what I'm into. So mostly the kind of residencies I do now are project based ones and having that time to learn about a place and develop ideas is crucial.

VP: In my case I would say that residencies have affected my work very little. Whether I’m in Austin or India, it doesn’t really matter. Maybe the advantage of residencies is that the more you move around the better chance you have of meeting interesting people.

mbg: Have you encountered any particularly innovative models for residency programs?

SA: Almost all programs are unique in one form or another. Artpace is obviously a high mark for residency programs and I feel like a lot of that has to do with their consistency in programming and the founding concept. Very few programs I have come across provide a proper exhibition at the conclusion of the residency. In that respect, Artpace’s dual use of space for both studio and gallery offers a great example of working within budget and space constraints. The structure of the program—a different curator selecting each set of residents, and each set of residents including one Texas, one national and one international artist—is pretty unique, too.

HF: Not exactly innovative, but there are ones I like more or less, the best ones provide a good living space, food, funding and support for the work I'm doing. I have a friend who started a one day residency in her apartment. An assignment that I sometimes do with my students is to have them become Artists-in-Residence in other departments on campus, they have done them in Black Studies, Geology, Systems Science, Conflict Resolution, etc.

VP: Because I come from a design background I am a little suspicious of the word innovative. I would say the best models are the ones that offer the artist the most freedom. If you want to do a show at the end, fine, if not, that’s ok, too. What I really enjoyed from my time in Austin, and something I didn’t get to do with my other residencies, was the chance I was given to talk about my world back in Rio. I don’t know if people liked listening to it, but for me the talk was a great experience.

mbg: Any ideas for how a residency program might be structured to accommodate artists who have day jobs?

SA: That's tough. If the focus of the residency is to complete a project and do an exhibition at a venue, for example Grand Arts in Kansas City, someone with a day job could technically still complete the residency. The Grand Arts program doesn’t require that the artist moves to Kansas City, though constant communication and multiple visits is probably a must. However, if someone is looking for that uninterrupted time in the studio, there is really no replacement for actually stepping out of your normal life (day job) for a period of time and getting to it. The other option would be a short residency like Idyllwild in California, which is only a week, but I don’t really think a week is enough. That being said, I speak strictly from a visual artist's perspective. A week in residence might be just enough time to edit a collection of poems, for example.

HF: I guess the one day one would work for that, and the artist-in-residence in a places where they just go for a few hours a day or week.

VP: First you have to help me find a job... then I’ll answer this one...

mbg: There are residency programs that focus on retreat, on exhibition, and on community involvement. Any opinions about these different types of structures?

SA: I think this varies from person to person or even from project to project. Personally, I prefer the retreat, though not necessarily somewhere out in nature. Nature is inspiring, but so is Goodwill. I really get a lot out of being in a place where I can interact with people other than artists and poets and get to know a town.

As far as an exhibition is concerned, I think it is always an excellent and rigorous way to put a lid on a body of work. However, depending on the length of the residency, an exhibition might prove difficult, unless the idea was conceived, at least in part, before the residency officially started. Artpace is the only program I have participated in that culminated in an exhibition, and though my idea matured and changed somewhat during the residency, the majority of time was spent physically realizing an idea I already had, not tinkering and researching in the studio.

I would say that community involvement is key, because it allows the artists to give back to the foundations, donors and patrons that have invited them to participate. This could mean something as simple as a slide lecture or an open studio, or something more complicated like working with community to make a project happen. Ultimately, the benefit should be two-fold. The artist gets to make work, meet a city and its community, and take the experience back to his or her own home. In turn, the foundation or residency program provides a service to the community and city by introducing a visiting artist. By awarding an artist with a residency, the foundation helps contribute to the artist's success, which raises their profile as well. These often dynamic relationships between an artist and his or her newly expanded community are important.

HF: I think I sort of answered that already.

VP: It really depends on the organizations behind the residencies, and what they are trying to promote. For artists it’s easy, there are lots of options and we can pick and choose which program fits us best. Whatever the structure, I say just try to make it the best it can be for the artist. An artist needs a good support system, especially with short residencies of only one or two months. It is important to have things ready for the artist when they arrive. I often find that I can lose the first two weeks completely trying to get the simple things done, like getting materials and finding a place to work. Two weeks out of two months is too much time wasted, especially if you want to get into a good rhythm. It’s important to start quickly because leaving is hectic too, for me it is hard to be productive for the last ten days.

Claire Ruud is Editor of ...might be good.

Charlie Morris

By Claire Ruud

Charlie Morris, HD monitor, HD video 13:47 min. loop, Edition of 5 plus one artist proof. Originally commissioned by Artpace San Antonio. Photo: Todd Johnson.

During his residency at Artpace, Charlie Morris, a multimedia artist based in San Antonio, cultivated helmock and then planted it in public spaces around town. I was intrigued by the project because of the innocuous appearance of the plant (it looks a lot like parsley) and the danger invovled in its cultivation and consumption. So I asked him about it. (For more images, see my review of the current Artpace residencies.)

...might be good (mbg): Why hemlock?

Charlie Morris (CM): The hemlock piece ‘Conium Maculatum’ is interconnected with two other pieces at Artpace. An illustrated book of Marque de Sade’s Julliette, and a shipping pallet of 28 severed military hats cast in plaster complete the installation. The thread that links these pieces together is essentially political. The infamous Poison Hemlock functions as a linking metaphor between political censorship, and corrupt power.

mbg: Where did you find hemlock seeds, anyway?

CM: They were available to me by a source specializing in biological resources for scientific research.

mbg: Can you describe the art of growing a good crop of hemlock?

CM: More importantly, for me the question is not how, but why, to cultivate this particular plant to be included into a larger installation. The act of production, documentation, and territorial context, demonstrate our collective fear and ignorance toward political, historical, and natural environments.

mbg: I assume you planted the hemlock pictured in your video piece yourself. Am I right?

CM: Yes, after documenting photographically the growth process for approximately 3 months within a controlled setting, they were planted in numerous locations outdoors and documented on video. Most reactions are mild at first until the viewer comes to realize that the seemingly innocent looking photographs and videos represent an actual highly toxic plant, distributed throughout the immediate environment. Many viewers express how common looking weeds and plants go relatively unnoticed in our fast paced daily lives. Some have even expressed a need to become more observant when encountering nature.

mbg: How did you dispose of the plants once you were done with them?

CM: After the production, documentation, and subsequent intervention into the environment, the plants continue on a naturally determined course in the location where they were planted. Thus, continuing the installation beyond the walls of the gallery space into public space.

Claire Ruud is Editor of ...might be good.