I now have my first real exhibition under my belt. Sure, I’ve worked for museums and art centers before, but I was always a cog in the larger ars machina, just doing as I was told. But, the new show I put up at the Center for Book and Paper Arts was the first where I’ve had any real say as what what goes on. I did not have total control since there are Exhibition Committees, Directors, and student employees that all have a hand in the show, and thankfully so. I would never want to mount something this large entirely on my own. However, this show was selected a year before I even arrived in Chicago. I just stepped in, picked up where the last gallery coordinator left off, and followed it through. I’m proud of what I’ve done. I handled an exhibition that I did not select, maneuvered some pretty hairy political minefields, put together a decent show, and I hung it well (my wife has been hassling me about being nicer to myself). During the show’s opening, I even took extra time to assemble some print-ready images from the show to be included in a feature in a South Loop newspaper.

The feature was published last week. I hesitate to even call it a feature. It was really a review. And it was harsh. The details of the review aren’t that important. I even agree with much that was said about the show. But what struck me was the pompous attitude that was appended to the review. It was frighteningly familiar. I have done a little art reviewing in the past and have occasionally produced little diatribes against the artists and curators. I suddenly realized how one-sided I have been.

Since graduate school I felt the art world was just not meeting up with my expectations. Curatorial practice was stale, contemporary museums functioned too slowly to really be “contemporary,” the market was flooded with young artists and there seemed to be little room for me, I made a better living with a BFA than an MFA, “new” exhibitions I attended were just the same old, same old, etc. I wanted the art world to be held accountable for its stagnancy and hypocrisy, so I targeted exhibitions and picked them apart. I whined about artists, curatorial choices, the architecture of the venue, but I did not look at the true source of the exhibition - the institution itself.

Most art institutions are hierarchical and money driven. Even non-profits require money to run and they get money from donors who like to see a return for their donations and see likable shows, or the money stops flowing. The art handlers answer to the registrar, the registrar answers to the curator, the curator answers to the director, the director answers to the board, and the board answers to money. Never is there an important decision made by a single person. And too many cooks…

Any excitement I derive from the art world these days comes from the small, independently owned and run galleries that have the life-span of a fruitfly. I can’t expect museums, established commercial art galleries, or university art venues to show fresh-from-the-tree-art that hasn’t already become a stale artifact because they aren’t built that way. Exhibition seasons are planned by committee years in advance, artwork must be borrowed from artists or other institutions that require advanced notice and often charge fees, paperwork must be filed, publicity materials must be generated, education departments must organize tours, and on and on.

I have been spoiled by the luxury of going to friends’ studios and seeing art that has just been finished and is not far removed from it’s original temporal context. That is what I like to see and what I respond to most readily. Museums and most galleries just can’t provide that sort of immediacy. So I can’t expect it.

But not meeting an expectation is what the poor review of my show was all about. She (the reviewer) wanted one thing from me and I gave her another. She has a public venue to express her frustration. I have a website with a readership of five.

In a way, I think I have given up on the idea of art criticism. I would much rather prefer an intelligent essay be written about something someone liked in an effort to help the artist and spark some intelligent discussion. Reviews have little bearing on my choice of show to attend, mostly because shows I attend aren’t reviewed.

I agree with Dave Hickey when he wrote:

“Colleagues of mine will tell you that people despise critics because they fear our power. But I know better. People despise critics because people despise weakness, and criticism is the weakest thing you can do in writing, It is the written equivalent of air guitar - flurries of silent, sympathetic gestures with nothing at their heart but the memory of the music. It produces no knowledge, states no facts, and never stands alone. It neither saves the things we love (as we would wish them saved) nor ruins the things we hate.”