I Think This Will Always Be Fun
Where Did All the Little Galleries in Riverwest Go?
I don’t think anybody knows what an art exhibition is for. The artists like them because, after ten years of making lumpy paper-mache bird feeders, it feels nice to see one hanging somewhere other than in the garage. Their friends show up because they’re good friends, or more likely because they heard there will be beer. Sometimes there will be an older, well-dressed couple for whom dropping four-thousand dollars on a paper-mache bird feeder is feasible. But in most cases not.
And what about the person with their name on the lease? In most cases, art sales aren’t paying the rent, or even the electricity. So why does a gallery director bother? In Deb Brehmer’s case, I think, I hope, she honestly wants to do something nice.
Personally, I’m only about eighty percent sure that an exhibition featuring the work of prisoners is a good idea. If the show puts its artists at the center, maybe eighty-five percent, and if it ends up as something other than a gross spectacle of wealthy art-people play acting as savior figures, then even better. Deb, and Portrait Society Gallery, mostly succeed on these counts with Art Against the Odds, an exhibition of 65 incarcerated artists which ran from February 4th to March 12th at MIAD.
The work is good. I like it. Moreover, it’s completely unambiguous what she show is for. That is, to “share [incarcerated artists’] voices, visions, and ideas in an exchange with the outside world,” and to “define the act of art-making as not only a creative past-time, but a life-saving tool of self-definition for those who are removed from society.”
Which is, you know, pretty great. Like good-for-society levels of great. One might even say necessary, given Wisconsin’s dysfunctional prison system. So why do I bristle every time I see the show pop up on social media or a local news network?
Maybe I’m just cynical and have a hard time buying the narrative that the evils of the prison-industrial complex can be corrected by the power of art. Or, if they can, maybe I’m uncomfortable with the idea of a for-profit business accumulating something in the neighborhood of $50,0001 from philanthropists and charitable organizations whose money could have gone to any number of other public projects that are run by organizations who do that sort of thing every day.
Maybe. But to be honest, it’s hard to make an argument that Portrait Society isn’t worthy. In fact, they might be the most dedicated champion of regional art we have. Most of their shows are much simpler than this one, spotlighting one or two from a broad swath of Wisconsin-based artists. While these exhibitions are often politically-conscious, the focus is always on the work and the people who make it, which is something I’ve always admired about PSG. It’s also worth mentioning that half the proceeds of Art Against the Odds go straight back to the artists themselves, while the other half goes to PSG’s fiscal receiver. It’s clearly not a business venture.
More likely, the more recent show irritates me because it belongs to a certain way of thinking about art. The Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design, which hosted the exhibition, is an even better example of this. They have a proven love for the heroic, putting on shows with long titles like Climate Change & Sustainability: Transnational Perspectives in Art. They focus on topics that are important, in the good-for-society, ethically necessary kind of way. Of course, it makes sense that an art college wants to champion social issues. Add it’s probably a good thing that the young artists attending the school are exposed to the broader context in which they make their work. Maybe there’s even a young artist working now who mustered the courage to pick up a paintbrush for the first time because of the transnational perspectives they encountered in the MIAD galleries. Maybe?
But as a relatively old artist, who at one time attended these things regularly, I can say that not everything that’s morally good makes interesting art. In fact, I might even say that an art exhibition whose main purpose is to rescue us from capitalism, racism, and the destruction of the planet, is, while a very good thing, something other than an art exhibition.
To explain what I mean, we need to look at the alternative.
If you’ve heard of Some Fools before this month, then you have a better grip on Milwaukee art than this writer. I learned about them just a few weeks ago as I was asking around for tips on small, new, threadbare art spaces. This is after moving back to the city just last year after a six-year absence. What I discovered was that these kinds of spaces are either much less common than they were when I left or that I am woefully out of touch with the kids. Both, it turns out, are true.
Some Fools is as small and new as I could have hoped for. They’re a basement space originally conceived as a music venue. They opened for a Halloween show last year and have since organized just one other open-call exhibition this February. Whether or not they’re threadbare, well, what I’ll say is the space has an aesthetic ethos that will make any Riverwest-bred artist feel right at home.
I actually didn’t have a chance to catch the opening of their Valentine’s Day show, but Aliya, Carter, and Olivia were nice enough to lead me through their living room and kitchen, down the stairs to the space. Milwaukee basements are always an adventure, though in this case, the pink and violet streamers, swirling neon lights, drum kit, and sound equipment tucked in the corner lent a different effect. I wouldn’t say transformative, but definitely powerful. The thrill of walking in off a quiet street into this colorful pocket is worth the trip by itself.
All of their shows so far have been open-call, though Aliya wanted to make it clear that Some Fools isn’t, as she says, a homies gallery. While the artists featured in their Valentine’s show are all local, the curators strive to reach outside their immediate social circle. The paintings and sculptures hang off the existing architecture, dodging windows, electrical outlets, and power cords running up to a dozen hardware store spotlights clamped to the low ceiling. It sounds like I’m poking fun, but actually this curatorial style is something very dear to my heart.
Older readers may remember a time when Riverwest was filled with these kinds of spaces. Ten years ago, we were tripping over them, with the original Green Gallery, Small Space, nAbr, American Fantasy Classics, Imagination Giants, After School Special, and many more, all regularly organizing shows, all using the same $6 hardware store clamp lighting. What made this moment special wasn’t just the diversity of work but something else that emerged between the spaces. You could spend an evening hopping from one to another, and we often did, whether on the annual neighborhood ArtWalk or any time openings happened to coincide. It felt like a community.
Once, a small gallery run by my friends called Imagination Giants filled their exhibition space with sand in the middle of winter.2 They bought a heater from the hardware store I was working at the time (and to my manager’s annoyance, returned it a week later) and set up some beach chairs and fake plants. While the show had a hard time drawing a large crowd in the depths of winter, it is maybe the most fun thing I can remember happening in an art gallery.
It’s hard to imagine this kind of event happening in Milwaukee today, though I’m not exactly sure why. The community is still there, browsing Woodland Pattern’s shelves or downing beers at Linneman’s. However, the pop-up culture has largely collapsed, with all of the above spaces either shuttering or taking on a very different form.
This isn’t terribly surprising, considering that most of them were paid for out-of-pocket by students who had already set their sights on New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago. What’s notable, at least to me, is that nothing came to take their place. Most of the newest galleries in the city seem to be opening in Walker’s Point and have as much in common with MIAD and PSG’s approach as they do with Riverwest pop-ups. They’re usually owned by people older than thirty-five, have a very long mission statement, and aren’t as likely to have a visible washing machine.
I promise I didn’t set out to write a retrospective of Milwaukee art or even Riverwest art. Plenty of other writers have already tried. In fact, it almost seems like a tradition. Ten years ago, Nicholas Frank’s Milwaukeeists essay accompanied an exhibition of the same name, putting many of these venues and the artists who populated them down to paper for the first time. A decade before that, Mary Louise Schumacher’s tragically overwrought depiction of the same led the way.
At the peak of the Riverwest’s bloom, such attention felt natural and inevitable. But then Mary Louise was canned. And Nicholas moved to Texas or something. A few of the bigger galleries across the city, like INOVA and Pitch Project, shuttered. And for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me, the dozen galleries between Holton and the river were decimated. It’s hard not to feel like the torch had been dropped somewhere along the way.
I don’t get the feeling that Some Fools sees itself as carrying a torch. It’s one of the things I like best about them. They’re motivated by the same thing any artist is, which is a desire to translate a weird collection of talents, skills, and aspirations into something tangible. In other words, they’re doing it because they can and because in Milwaukee you have to be a self-starter. If they take the same route as the Riverwest pop-ups that have come before, they’ll continue putting on shows for another year or three, until one of them moves to Los Angeles or their landlord decides they don’t want a bunch of weirdos hanging around the property. If we’re lucky, they’ll stay in the city and continue doing projects. If we’re luckier, they might have half the impact Deb has had in her career.
It’s the tough thing about an art community that isn’t driven by money. What made Riverwest art so unique was that it wasn’t only free from outside funding, but outside validation too. Nobody was trying to earn approval or save the world, but just make their little pocket in it more interesting. And while the neighborhood was still burdened by litter, rapidly gentrifying, and dangerous to walk around at night, it was also filled with interesting little pockets.
Now they’re harder to come by. In fact, it’s not too soon to say they’re an endangered species. If you haven’t been to one, don’t wait. Because even though you might find other apartment galleries in other cities, none of them are quite as forthright, welcoming, and fun as these. Just remember to watch your head coming down the stairs, and don’t expect any towering wall texts to explain how the work relates to transnational perspectives. Mostly, you’ll just have to look at the work and figure it out yourself.
(In that spirit, here’s a short reflection on one of the standout pieces of the show at Some Fools. To be honest, it kind of messes up the flow of this thing I’m writing, but I feel bad for talking more around them than about them. So:
Margaret Griffin’s piece reminds me of a David Lynch prop, like something barely alive or very recently dead. I can see that it’s hollow, yet all about surface. I can imagine the artist’s hand (I don’t know her, so I imagine my own hand, but smaller) working the object inside and out. I imagine the necessary movements and try to act them out as my eyes cross the surface. There’s hair, probably the artist’s hair. I’m afraid to touch it. I’m not supposed to touch it, but the longer I look it feels like I already have. It makes me wish I had a dab of lotion because by the time I turn away, I’m feeling itchy all over.
It’s hanging over a partition (that’s the best word I have) about waist height and seemingly as old as the building itself, painted over by landlords a dozen times. It’s unclear what it was originally for, but now it serves as a boundary between the gallery and the rest of the basement. Margaret’s spooky little cocoon hangs right over it, half in and half out.
Lo and behold, a genuine art experience. It was the most fun part of this to write.)
Please (please) don’t take any of this as a criticism of heroic art, or Portrait Society, or MIAD. Maybe MIAD a little. Probably, I would have had an easier time relating to Art Against the Odds if I had stumbled into it without being burdened by all of the PR. The work is fantastic. For a show so sprawling, it’s organized well and easy to navigate. And even more than that, I’m proud that Milwaukee has the capacity for self-reflection on this scale. I’m glad we have heroic exhibitions to keep our moral compasses calibrated. I do still wonder whether the artists in the show would have preferred to be artists rather than incarcerated artists. And I wonder exactly why the phrase “prison art” appears in bold 40-pt font on all the promotional materials while the names of the artists are in the fine print. But maybe that’s just the nature of a well-funded, important, sprawling, socially-relevant art exhibitions.
I’m sort of just spit-balling here, but maybe there’s a translation process that comes with putting on a show of this scale. That with each panel discussion and artist talk, with every page added to the exhibition catalog, the work itself loses a bit of its character. It’s possible that we’re meant to regard the paintings and sculptures in Art Against the Odds in the same way we watch tigers at the zoo. They’re the real thing, in a sense, but we know it’s not the same as finding one in the jungle. That must be the best thing about Some Fools and its kind. The art still hasn’t left the wild.
Thanks for reading! If it feels like this is a weird hybrid of an essay and a disorganized ramble, that’s partially by design. And partially due to my tendency toward disorganized rambling. I’d like to continue this conversation (Because it is a conversation. Please comment!) next month and then touch on other topics that have nothing to do with art galleries or Riverwest. But have everything to do with the city’s kaleidoscopic cultural endeavors. Actually, I’ve been talking to Blaine Wesselowski, co-owner of Voyageur Books in Bayview. He’s a fun guy. So stay tuned!
A conservative estimate. Deb wouldn’t give me the exact number, but I do know that they’ve received $10,000 from Bader Philanthropies, $10,000 from Wisconsin Humanities, $9,760 from a GoFundMe campaign, and as yet undisclosed amounts from nine other funders.
The project was actually called One Ton Beach by LA-based artists Jena Lee.
This sort of writing is just what the Cream City needs. Insightful, informative, and local. It comes from an impressive landscape of knowledge. I look forward to reading more of you work.