ON VIEW
TLDR list and links way below
Jon Gott, Foreign Correspondent at Sibyl Gallery OPENING FRIDAY, MAY 17, 5-8
I urge you to see this show.
I first saw Jon’s work when he invited me to come to the Poland Avenue home he shared with family. (This was also the location of SHED, a project space and movable entity now located in Cleveland, OH). His work space was in the house, in a cluttered space just inside the door. Two dogs ran in and out of the space and took me a good forty-five minutes to see the work. By “see” I mean to understand. When I did, it was a profound shift and I have never been able to un-see his work and what’s more I see other work and the world itself differently now.
If art is this thing we do, moved by a primal impulse, inexplicable, connected the illusive idea of “meaning,” Jon’s work epitomizes “art.” But because it does not for the most part use art materials, because it makes the idea of “skills” feel inapplicable, it can be challenging to see. A gallery setting makes this easier, than a home setting though the work carries its own set of quotidian chaos. Here are my suggestions for looking at Jon Gott’s very human and ultimately very moving art in Foreign Correspondent at Sibyl:
If you go to the opening, go back when you can see the show quietly, alone maybe. A layover in Berlin is not seeing Berlin.
When you ask yourself, “Is this art?” put that question in your pocket, handle it as you look at the work, let it bump up against gum wrappers and loose change. (Then toss it into the crater on the second story of the gallery. IYKYK.)
Pay attention to your thoughts, your associations, and your body as you look at the work. For example, when I stood in front of the horizontal bamboo cane, calf-height, it activated a sensory memory, a childhood memory, of persistently bruised shins. Halfway through the show, I paused, aware of a sudden profound fatigue, nostalgia, and mild sadness. I was pretty sure these feelings were triggered by the work. Suddenly, I remembered my son, three years old, screaming, crying when we came across a burned and melted playground in Bay Saint Louis. It was terror and grief and It came from looking at the playground furniture. Once upon a time, we all felt empathy for objects. Our toys had feelings. We grieved broken things.
Be curious. If you know how, change your settings to “receptive mode” and take your time. And then take more time. Something in you will shift.
Dogwater Gallery and Dusk at the Arcade, Andrew Algier and Sara Shoenberg
By sheer luck (and Instagram stories), I caught this show before it closed. It’s too late to see the work in this space, but the gallery is new to me, and notable as were the artists. (Note: you can always reach out to artists and ask about opportunities to see their work, studio visits or future exhibitions. Not everyone knows this.) It’s so exciting to discover a new and serious art space run by artist Helen Hawkins, though please note the hours and exhibition lengths are not yet established).
Kilter Quest, Andrew Algier
Parlour Gallery (and Camp Street Studios) Through the Window, Sara Madandar
I missed the performance that took place during the opening (though I looked in on the live stream IG). The work that remains in the gallery is a kind of installation in support of the performance. When I was there, artist Veronica Casares Lee showed me a second down the hall where paintings by the artist were hung. Lights on timers slowly illuminate a painted image within a flat shape.
(Look! a connection between Sara Madandar paintings and the mirror in Dog Water Gallery. The paintings at Parlour required waiting to see the image and the mirror required payment quarter to see the image.)
Sara Madandar
Andrew Algier
Veronica and I talked for a while about making art, painting, and day jobs.
Recess, Jeff Rinehart and Cheryl Hayes, at Good Children
Jeff Rinehart’s work is some delicious Brothers Three* cocktail of funny and sad. I’m not sure how, but they seem both…not lazy, but fatigued, but persistent. The titles are also funny-sad.
Incredible Hulk Lunchbox Fantasy Coffin (abeduu adekai), Theophilus Nil Anum Sowah Ghanam at NOMA
I think about death a lot but not in a morbid way. I just think, several times a day, that our time here is limited so giddy-up, me. I don't think so much about what happens after this, and almost never think about what will be done with my body when I’m dead. That said, to be able to think a but about death while looking at a giant incredible Hulk lunchbox that’s actually a coffin, well that's worth the price of admission. Don't forget, the price of admission for Louisiana residents is zero on Wednesdays. Carpe diem, brah.
I’ve not settled on how to end these posts gracefully, how to do the equivalent of “Well, I should be getting back to work…” when ending a phone call. Anyway, see you in the future.
•••
Jon Gott, Foreign Correspondent at Sibyl Gallery
Dogwater Gallery and Dusk at the Arcade, Andrew Algier and Sara Schoenberger
Parlour Gallery (and Camp Street Studios), Sara Madandar Through the Window
Recess, Jeff Rinehart and Cheryl Hayes, at Good Children Gallery
Theophilus Nil Anum Sowah Ghanam, Incredible Hulk Lunchbox Fantasy Coffin (abeduu adekai) at NOMA
*When he was very young, maybe two years old, my son said of Brothers Three, the bar we walked by almost ever day in an era before Magazine Street poshified, “everyone in there has tired faces.”