Photos from NON GRATA series  at Grace Exhibition Space by Therese Maher for Bushwick Daily

Imagine the unimaginable, the uncomfortable, the unexplainable

There is no designated stage area, blurring the line between audience and performer, and seating is sparse, as participating in the performance is encouraged. The unknown terrifies you, and yet something, maybe this very feeling, pushes you inside. Welcome to Grace Exhibition Space.

I consider myself to have a fairly open and high tolerance for the unimaginable, the uncomfortable, the unexplainable, and the bizarre art movements that make this city so unique. That being said, my experience at Grace Space was like no other.

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By Terri Ciccone

All images by courtesy of Mark Skwarek and Sander Veenhof.

Is your art museum-worthy?

We’ve all seen the video of Banksy attempting to hang his own work in The Metropolitan Museum of Art, MoMA, and other major museums. Is this a gag? A stunt? Is he the shock jock of street art? Perhaps. But one question he is asking loudly and clearly is, who’s to dub one work museum worthy and one not?

A major criticism in the art world will always be the commercialization of galleries. To the frustration of many talented up and coming artists, these large quiet spaces often come under fire for catering to the wealthy, specifically showing what’s “trendy” over what’s “good,” or art they think might fit in a loft in TriBeCa. What if these bounds were broken, and there was no emphasis on how “good” an artist is based on where their work is shown. What if all types of artists could have shows in notable places? What if you could hang your artwork at next to Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” at MOMA, in the trees at Central Park, or even in the Roman Colosseum? Bushwick based Artist Mark Skwarek may have found a way.

Augumented reality in one’s backpack? Ehm…

When you think “augmented reality” it’s easy to picture holograms of Michael Jackson and Marilyn Monroe singing next to this year’s American Idol winner. But Skwarek has been exploring how the medium can change the way we think about art since the 1990s. By working with artists who are willing to submit their work to basically, thin air — Skwarek creates art galleries that exist in virtual space. By searching “BOS” on site in a free app called “Layar” in specific parts of the city, a viewer can see works that he has specifically placed, in the sky, hanging on buildings, in different venues, etc.

“Back then it was very difficult to do, it wasn’t mobile,” he said, describing huge goggles and backpacks worn by people who wanted to participate in an augmented gallery visit in the 90s. “We developed our own app when the mobile revolution happened, and once it was in everyone’s pocket, all of the artists started jumping on board. It was a major shift.”

“You’ll have a show in MoMA”

So if you’re still wondering about how to get your painting in MoMA, Skwarek spoke about one of his first major and successful exhibitions, an “intervention” at MoMA created in collaboration with Dutch new media artist Sander Veenhof. In 2010, he invited the hundreds of people that walk through the museum every day to view new art work in a new way. A disclaimer on the site reads “PS The MoMA is not involved yet.”

“We said [to artists] if you want to send us your artwork, we’ll make a show, we’ll put your work in MoMA, you’ll have a show in MoMA. What came out of that show was not so much about the DIY element, but it was about breaking and questioning the boundaries of one of the most prestigious institutions and the entire gallery system.” Hundreds of people can be seen enjoying the new possibilities that augmented reality can bring to viewing art in such a prestigious and traditional institution.

It’s clear that the possibilities for a relationship with augmented reality and traditional art are just about endless. “We’ve put stuff in the White House, we’ve put stuff at the Korean DMZ, I’ve put stuff at the Palestinian Israeli separation barrier. Recently we just removed all of the parthenon marbles from the British museum and returned them to Greece. It has a lot of freedom and you can do big things,” Skwarek reiterated.

Bushwick, augumented reality’s playground

But the one place on earth that has possibly the highest concentration of art in augmented reality? Bushwick. Bushwick appears to be a playground and an experimental space for Skwarek and his friends, and one of the most supportive communities for this type of work. Because it seems so steeped in technology, it does beg the question: Should this be classified as art?

“There are some people who are going to be hard to win over, but what’s happening is a shift in the understanding of the virtual and physical space, and it’s happening with the younger generation. The younger generation is starting to understand it because it grew up online, it grew up in the virtual space and it understands this experience as real.”

In addition to both playing with the laws of physics, and challenging the boundaries of art institutions, the project encourages people to get up and get out. While most art and technology platforms make it easier for viewers to never have to actually go to Paris to see the Louvre, (ahem, Google Art Project), one needs to physically be in these spaces to see the work.

The art world will always be in contempt about technology “invading” “traditional” forms of art. But one thing that can’t be argued with is Skwarek’s work in Bushwick is that makes the art world more accessible for artists and art lovers alike, knocking down the barriers that stand in the way of bringing all types of great art to people all over the world.

By Terri Ciccone 

Peter Hopkins (in the middle) of The Bogart Salon. (Photo by Katarina Hybenova)

Big collectors never come to Bushwick. Or do they?

Two paintings  sized 11″ x 14″ and priced at $12,000 were sold two weeks ago at The Bogart Salon (a third similar one is on reserve). One of the many new galleries that have sprung up in the past year at the 56 Bogart building can be rightfully proud. While $12,000 price tag on a painting might not raise many eyebrows in Chelsea, they have shaken the common opinion that big collectors never come to Bushwick.

One of the greatest contemporary artists and collectors in America who wishes to remain anonymous saw the potential in Royce Weatherly’s paintings, and didn’t hesitate a second. “These works are special” says gallery director Peter Hopkins regarding Royce Weatherly’s paintings currently exhibited in a group show titled Modesty: A Policy at The Bogart Salon through May 28th.

“Everything that we have worked for is “now”. It will either work, or it won’t work but it will happen now,” said Peter Hopkins referring to his predictions that the bigger collectors can and will come to Bushwick. During the panel discussions Confronting Bushwick held back in January, and more recently this past March at Capital and its Discontents, both organized by his gallery, the panelists and the audience alike were mostly skeptical that this would ever happen.

“These sales have helped change Royce’s life, my gallery, and mybe even Bushwick. This one small thing, that moment, everything may have turned on it,” says Peter.

The Bushwick Game

Royce Weatherly’s slow art

Royce Weatherly’s hand can be compared to Vermeer, and his mind to Matisse. After a 12-year painting hiatus, Royce produced a work that caught the very notable attention of major collectors. What makes Royce’s work so enticing is the arc of time in which he creates a work. Many young Bushwick residents will be middle aged and perhaps have moved on from the neighborhood by the time Royce’s work is “finished,” for a key element in many of his paintings, is age, both in the deliberate fashion his paintings take to produce, but also in the arc of their “completion.”

Royce Weatherly: Untitled (Black Walnuts #2) 11" x 14" 2012, oil on linen (Images of art by courtesy of The Bogart Salon)

“In a way, Royce represents the kind of person who Bushwick should theoretically be here to represent,” said Hopkins after talking about this painting as if it were a precious artifact that has been buried for years. “He’s 54-years-old, he’s shown all around the world, but no one could wait for him. I could.”

The paintings that are sparking the most interest however, hang on another wall perpendicular to this piece. We see two paintings of walnuts, one is dark, and yellowing with the years, and the other is bright, painted in the exact same way only lit from an opposite direction. The paintings emphasize the negative space, shadows and light, proving what isn’t there is just as important as what is. The viewer will have to patiently wait for the bright one to also become beautifully dim.

Royce Weatherly: Untitled (Work Lights), 11" x 14", 2012, oil on linen

A painting Untitled (Work Lights) of the type of lights you might see on a construction site, glowing in a dark space. The lights are painted with such precision that this work can easily be mistaken for a photograph. But like so many works, the mood in this painting is what makes it come to life. The overhead lights are actually the lights that hang in Royce’s basement in New Jersey, where he paints. This is his studio now after his break from painting. The hiatus came from simply the everyday progression of life as the culprit (moving to the suburbs, buying a home, supporting a family, etc.) The painting appears to be created at a time where hope may have been lost. The dark basement is hardly visible beyond the two lights, except for a small shining orb in the distance, just barely illuminating a sliver of a staircase, perhaps revealing a glimmer of hope, a way out.

Royce Weatherly: Untitled (Bupkis) 11"x 14", 2012, oil on linen

Perhaps the somber tone of this painting is what makes the next one in the series so inspiring. Untitled (Bupkis) is bright, and simple in its objects but complicated in almost every other way. On a white background filled to the brim with shadows and light, an empty coffee cup lays on its side. It’s beautiful circular geometry is balanced by its dark blue color, and drop of brown liquid leaking subtly at the back. Next to it lays the plastic packaging of a cigarette carton, painted with a delicacy and precision comparable to the way Botticelli painted veils on the Madonna. Both packages are empty, but there is nothing empty or somber about this painting at all. It’s almost joyful in that these two empty objects say something is coming, I’m back, I’m moving.

“I think I’m lucky. Its hard to back and out and come back into it again,” said the artist as he explained what may have sparked creating these paintings after such a long period of time. “Its kind of nerve wracking, you’re not sure if your ideas are any good… But hang onto your ideas and pay attention to what you know.”

By Terri Ciccone

All photos by courtesy of the artist.

After getting off the Morgan stop a few weekends ago, art lovers were greeted by a giant Paper Mache robot, lounging on a sidewalk. Inside 56 Bogart, a lady was rolling around in a sleeping bag, and “living sculptures” were posing in crazy outfits at the end of the hall. Partly due to the recent discovery of Bushwick by the New York Times as “a raw-edged art hub,” a certain level of edginess is expected to be seen in there. Some expect to be blown away by crazy avant-garde art or weird imagery, with which Bushwick artists rebel against the confines of gallery expectations and collectors in Chelsea. But sometimes you just see some damn good work, even if it may lean on more traditional concepts.

An example of this can be seen tonight at Little Skips, where Bushwick-based artist Michel Bellici will be showing her recent works. There will be no robots or sleeping bags (I mean, you never know), but Michel’s work is a breath of fresh air within the scene. Her pieces deal with one of the most beautiful and classic forms of all time - the human figure. The paintings, often headless are vivid and full of stretching, twisting, and swaying muscles. Michel cites an obsession with the human body and Gray’s Anatomy that began when she was just four, so it is no wonder the viewer can feel a great connection to the figures in the work. Each torso seems to gently twist and pull away from the canvas, born from an ethereal mix of colors in the background and submerged in some kind of cosmic space. It’s almost as if Michel hasn’t created these figures as much as she has uncovered them. “They [the figures] are already there,” she explained, “I just expose them.”

What makes these figures different than, say, your favorite Michelangelo sketch of anatomy is their ability to feel organic. In my opinion, this is due to Michel’s painting technique.  Michel paints each body with her body, using only her hands as tools. “I’m physical, the body is physical and it’s all energy so why interrupt that with a brush?”

“I felt freer this time around,” said Michel of showing in Bushwick. “[Little Skips] is very different and that’s why I chose it. I’m already annoyed with the gallery air, it’s all that ‘bourgie art scene thing’ I was looking to get away from. And Linda [co-owner of Little Skips], well she’s the best energy so what could be better?” Between the energy of Michel’s paintings, and the energy found within Little Skips (we’re not just talking caffeine energy) the show will refresh any viewer. Bring your body to see some bodies tonight at Little Skips!

Michel Bellici art opening at Little Skips (with following Kickstarter Event to support a barista, Jonathan Murphy and his band’s Cave Days new album) is on Friday (tonight) at 6pm. 

By Terri Ciccone

All photos by Katarina Hybenova.

When Robert Rauschenberg set out to create his famed collages and assemblage pieces comprised of found objects, he created sculptures of the stuff of his lifetime. They were a living time capsule of sorts, discarded evidence of life as someone once knew it in the ’40s and ’50s. Perhaps taking a cue from this, Andrew Hurst takes a similar 3D snapshot of life at this time at his current show at English Kills Gallery. It’s easy to look back and reflect, and think ahead and dream, but capturing the moment, the feeling of nowness, is no easy feat.

Upon entering English Kills gallery, the viewer feels like a fly swirling around the junk yard of life (an actual fly was spotted upon arrival). Pop-out pieces are scattered around the gallery, hung on walls, broken glass, dirty metal and twisted wires where paintings and drawings usually hang - dark, dirty, and seemingly morose.

Cutouts of magazines and images of snakes and other seemingly discarded memories appear to be part of a sculptural scrapbook. The pieces evoke both a cheerful and somber tone. Some works seem to joyful contain images of weddings and happy moments, like in the piece titled Magazine in which an actual magazine with this image is also filled with scraps and metal. Others seem haunting, a reminder of what our discarded things may say about us. A work titled SYD TV, for example, appears to be a small broken old school tv, one that you might take with you to your college dorm or a campsite. A thick, spiral cord sprawls out the back, as if ripped from whatever socket once gave it life. The image on the screen is a faint whisper of a man’s face, the eyes and nose just barely visible as they peek through a foggy faded screen. After seeing the look in his eyes, one wonders if this box is the host to his life, perhaps the cord feeds him life, acting as a sort of spine or brain stem.

It is hard not to look at Hurst’s works and make the connection to Rauschenberg, but in the context of today, it takes on a totally original meaning. It’s interesting to think of the idea of being “plugged into” a TV in the ’50s, and what it means to have a brain stem connected to media today. An image of a magazine or a pay phone has different meaning in today’s world of ephemeral media, of the disregard for physical objects as services and material moves onto the web.

To behold the physical scrapbook style of Hurst’s pieces in the show is a refreshing experience. To look at an object and the way he juxtaposes materials of different subject matter gives objects normally deemed as shallow (phones, TVs, magazines) a whole new way of communicating with his audience. A favorite piece in the show is one you can’t see, but is perhaps the most important. A part of the show that makes each piece pop, makes each piece attention grabbing, makes each piece important: 2012, the current time and place and all that it encompasses.

By Terri Ciccone

Alex Emmart, Bushwick resident, runs The Mighty Tanaka gallery in DUMBO.

Certainly NOT a traditional gallery setting. When entering  The Mighty Tanaka in DUMBO, you’ll encounter a pair of Skewville sneakers in the lounge area with a pot leaf on them strewn above your head.  Penises, breasts and vaginas are everywhere! And I mean everywhere. This is actually very appropriate however, because in the same exposed manner, Alex Emmart, the director of the space, left nothing of his thoughts of the art world to the imagination. And I mean nothing.

The striking not-so-private parts are part of the current show at the Gallery called Inside Out, and are created by artist Don Pablo Pedro. Also featured in the show is the artist Cake, who also follows suite in bearing the bones of her artwork.  Even though the pieces are striking and provide an electric and exciting energy in the space, plopping down on the soft leather couch in the middle of the gallery is actually encouraged. Alex emanates this exuberant combination of cool and joy that obviously translates into the work shown in the space. He believes that an art space should be fist and foremost an inviting place to connect with art and each other. “My art, I feel is the art of interpretation,” he said. “It’s the ability to display artwork in a way that engages the trifecta. The pieces communicate, the person viewing the art communicates with the work, and the people in the space communicate with each other.”

This appeared to work wonderfully as we sat comfortably and discussed the mission of his gallery and the trends in his collections. Even though the gallery is in DUMBO, Alex is Bushwick resident who is totally inspired by his neighborhood. “Bushwick is the largest pool of artists you can find of completely random cool stuff, so a large percent of artists I work with live in Bushwick, have studios in Bushwick or ties to Bushwick in one way or another. So that’s really been one of my biggest influences with finding artists.”

The Mighty Tanaka Gallery, named after a badass little league baseball player, will have a booth this weekend at The Fountain Art Fair. Be sure to stop by to check out the work that is made by “us” for “us.” Alex spoke about the fact that many galleries are showing outrageous and expensive pieces to sell to high end collectors; something he feels sometimes hinders the experience of the viewer. “What’s most important is that it’s the voice of our generation, and that we are displaying ourselves as individuals who are working with a wide spectrum of art,” Alex said. “I want to switch it up and be fresh I want to ride the crest of what’s happening of the now.”

We went on to discuss the very relatable and approachable pieces he had in his gallery. “I really try hard to kind of remove that glass wall that separates the average person for the gallery experience. There’s been this elitism that goes along with fine art. We’re young people and we’re into cool shit, and just because it doesn’t look like I’m going to be buying art doesn’t mean I don’t want to have this experience.”

There is no doubt that when he sets up his booth at The Fountain Art Fair this weekend, there will be a lot of “completely random cool stuff” that is relatable, fresh and exciting to see. I half expect to see a couch in there as well.

By Terri Ciccone

Before you cringe about thinking about your naked nanna, let’s start off by saying this is not the kind of Gilf you are probably thinking of. “It’s kind of like my secret word for me,” the street artists began to explain as she meticulously cuts and measured a stencil.  “I know what it means, but everyone else thinks it means something different. It’s light hearted, where my work can be really heavy.” Gilf of course isn’t her birth name, but the name she uses as she uses the street as her canvas to spread awareness about social, political and environmental issues.

If you entered Gilf’s studio and living space without prior knowledge of her line of work, you may mistake her for someone on the White House’s most wanted list, and she’d probably take that as a compliment. Aggressive red signs that read “Stop Corporate Douchebags” stand not too far from an almost ready stencil of Lady Liberty drinking the cool aid, literally, and multiple stencils that read “censorship” over and over.  A ridiculous and vomit worthy speech given by Rush Limbaugh plays in the background, no doubt to motivate her to continue making visually stunning pieces that stop and make the viewer think, as they give a voice to the underdog. “I started doing street art to talk about stuff that people didn’t wanted to talk about. I feel that people feel hopeless about a lot of stuff and they don’t know how to deal with big issues that are facing us globally and culturally.  If I can talk to them in a visual sense, maybe I can change their perspective over time.”

There is something so technically beautiful in Gilf’s rebellious work.   As a self-proclaimed tomboy, Gilf expressed that her childhood dream was to design cars. She went on to study engineering in college to make this dream a reality. After learning this was far less than a creative field, and fearing a long career of designing tail lights for a living, Gilf decided she wanted to enter a new path in life involving a more artistic approach that would inspire and help others. As a result, her work has almost a mathematical approach to perfection. She meticulously cuts tiny dots, fills almost invisible cracks, and spray paints letters so perfectly that these pieces often get confused with screen prints.  All of this hard work is made with the knowledge of the ephemerality of the street as canvas, and it doesn’t matter to her as long as her points get across. “It’s about engaging everyday people on the street and opening a dialogue about important issues. I put it out there and hope it reaches people, I hope they go home and Google it and talk about it with their friends.”

Her latest projects will be shown at the upcoming Fountain Art Fair. One series portrays a play on vision charts that spell out things like “stop looking the wrong way” and “vision is impossible when your eyes are closed.” Other powerful pieces such as a stencil of a birth control wheel with the words “why are men making these decisions for us?” put in place of the days of the week, prove that her pieces aren’t just beautiful, but a call to action.

Another one of Gilf’s undertakings involves a gardening initiative to promote hunger awareness. A wooden structure resembling a tree is mounted to her studio wall, brushing the ceiling. Spaces where “branches” should go will be filled with blue pouches made from 100% recycled plastic. The pouches will contain soil and the seeds of an edible plant. Gilf dreams of building these structures on the sides of buildings in underprivileged neighborhoods in New York, as well as in countries struggling with hunger across the globe. “The idea is to bring it to different places around the world that have been hit with war or natural disaster. I’d like to do this project with a community that’s been through the worst, to bring a collaborative spirit back to their world.”

Her name speaks volume’s to her work, even if we don’t know what it actually means. Our first reaction is to assume it is closely associated with the acronym, Milf. But like the messages in her work, things aren’t always what they seem, and we should never take what someone tells us, or doesn’t tell us for face value. Always challenge things you feel are unfair, and use whatever talents you have to make your voice heard and to open a dialogue. That’s what this Gilf taught me anyway.

By Terri Ciccone

Ben Godward. “Let the blood show (a piece of my circus),” 2012, urethane foam, beer bottles, and mixed media

Imagine taking a tour of an art gallery through someone’s mind, where each and every fold of the brain is another corridor leading you to a brilliant piece someone had once seen or thought of.  What I Know, a group show curated by Jason Andrew is currently on view at NYCAM Gallery in Chelsea feels exactly as a physical tour through an art gallery of the mind.

Austin Thomas. “Survival Manual”, 2012, ink, graphite, and collage on paper

What I Know is a show that features over 40 artists from the tight nit and burgeoning art scene in Bushwick that the curator and collector himself is very much a part of.  The opening night was packed with a sort of who’s who of the Bushwick art scene, those one would normally see hanging around Norte Maar or Storefront. It was as if a space ship had sucked them all up and dropped them off in Chelsea.  Some speculated that this was the slightly less than unintentional plan of Jason Andrew himself, to swipe the artists from their homey-digs as Chelsea big-wig Luhring Augustine opened their new space in Bushwick on that very night.

Ali Della Bitta. “Rugose,” 2011, cast aluminum and resin

There is less than a visual theme that ties the show together.  Paintings seemed to work with drawings, drawings with sculpture, sculpture with collage. But despite a theme not being visibly apparent, it was clear that these pieces were tied together by community. In a statement in the gallery, Andrew ponders the fact that we live in a very uncertain era, and all we can really rely on is our creative wits. So whether it was Paul D’Agostino’s collage of clock cut outs ticking along near Brooke Moyse’s abstract painting “Kalied,” or Ben Godward’s giant blob of paint that looks like it had once wreaked havoc on a street, swallowing bottles and license plates in its colorful path – these ideas juxtaposed against one another in one space created a solidness and a comfort.

Sean Pace. “Super Natural,” 2010, wood and steel

What we know, or can take from the show, is these great works are being thought of and created, and don’t just exist in a Bushwick vacuum. The show is unapologetic in being simply a massive collection of great, solid pieces. And because of that, there was a different feeling in the air in Chelsea that evening. A shift, a change, a quake could be felt in the art world.

Jackie Sabourin. “North Country Seedlings”, 2012

By Terri Ciccone

It’s kind of hard to sit back and then remember what it’s like being a kid. Not your “childhood,” but being “a kid” specifically. A friend slaps a bracelet on your wrist that immediately curls up. Your brother yells that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon is on, but your sister is occupying the TV watching 90210. You conquer your Super Mario Brothers on Nintendo as you sit among metallic Pogs and trippy Lisa Frank folders, snacking on War Heads and Fruit Roll-Ups. All the while a toy is beeping somewhere in your closet (you assume it’s the Tamagotchi you have been neglecting.)

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By Terri Ciccone

The first photo by the author, the rest of the photos by Photos by Jakop Nazaretyan Photography, the courtesy of Factory Fresh.

Skewville, a set of  street art twin brothers, celebrated their birthday last Friday at Factory Fresh. Instead of cakes, games, line dancing and presents, there was beer, wooden sneakers,  giant dice used as chairs, and the musical styling’s of the band Anxiateam, comprised of the artists responsible for the gallery’s outdoor spaces, Jon Burgerman and Jim Avignon.

When you walk in the gallery, it’s as if three decades of Skewville’s work was put in a pile and then blown up. Every inch of the space is covered in the duo’s very recognizable style. The big block wood and/or cement cut outs that spell thinks like “skew” “NYC” “Hype” and “power” among many other things commanded the space, marking it as their own.

Marking territory is a practice Skewville is very familiar with.  One piece in the show is a lawn mower designed to mow the words “Keep On the Grass.” And more famously, strewn about the space is Skewville’s “When Dogs Fly” pieces. Ever see sneakers strung up over telephone lines in the city? Skewville has been practicing this ritual since they were children, and look at it as a way of making their mark in a place. “When Dogs Fly” refers to the busted shoes that adorn your tired achy feet, or “dogs”. Each sneaker is painted on wood, and then can be cut out and strung up over telephone lines. Skewville has been peddling this practice all around the country, customizing certain dogs to certain places, and leaving their mark on the wires.

This show is like entering Willy Wonka’s factory, but instead of imaginative versions of  sweets we have that of street culture. There are recognizable bright images and objects everywhere, cement blocks, fire hydrants, dice, traffic barriers, and yet they are all “wonkafied,” or Skewvillified into a dream land of cartoon-like and stylized pieces to reflect the impression this team has left on their city.