Review

A review of Trade Show

Aly Parrott staffs the "Trade Show" exchange table at the show's opening reception May 7. Photo: Emily Henson, courtesy of the artists

KCAI Crossroads Gallery
Kansas City, Missouri
May 7, 14, 21, 2010

Given my background in Central and South Eastern Europe, I was expecting something quite different from Trade Show, a collective undertaking by four graduating seniors from the Interdisciplinary Arts program at the Kansas City Art Institute that promises “new ways of looking at consuming, functionality, craft, and monetary exchange.” In post-socialist countries still reeling from the rapid transition to American-style capitalism, such a show typically would involve a scathing indictment of the art market and its sinister encroachment on creative freedom, alongside a call for citizens to rise up and resist this imperialist economic world order.

But blood and revolution were nowhere in the air at the KCAI Crossroads Gallery on opening night — the atmosphere was much more like a friendly neighborhood swap meet, where no reasonable offer will be refused. The artists — Sara Cramer, John Hilger, Aly Parrott, and Sean Starowitz — welcomed visitors and patiently explained time and again the show's ground rules: everything in the gallery is potentially up for trade. Smaller items can be traded on the spot after a suitable dialogue with the artist, while larger numbered items are being traded through a kind of silent auction. Anyone interested in a particular item can submit a bid; these will be reviewed and awarded by all four artists jointly at the show’s closing on May 21.

The works in the show are united by their roots in craft and the DIY aesthetic. Furniture predominates, especially tables, chairs, and bookshelves, almost all of which involve repurposed parts with the addition of paint, glue, and fabric. The centerpiece of the gallery is a glass-topped dining room table with four chairs, each painted a different color; this is where the artists will sit and discuss the bids on the closing night. The cleverly named "Cheshire table" stands in a nearby corner, and several other chairs, including a hybrid dining room-office chair, offer an inviting place to sit and watch the spectacle. The bookshelves created by removing desk drawers from their usual confines and hanging them vertically on the walls were an especially nice touch. Many of these pieces were created by Sean Starowitz, who also made the thoughtful ceramic tags hanging around the gallery, inscribed with such words as “cash,” “harvest,” and “economy.”

Along with furniture, the other predominant theme in the show is books. Sara Cramer’s sculptures, consisting of books altered by cutting, folding pages, or sewing through the covers, rest on nearly every tabletop. The shelves are filled with a slightly different type of book work: hundreds of surplus books found in dumpsters or donated by libraries and estate sales are displayed on the bookshelves with their spines turned towards the wall. Cramer explains she is making a statement about the devaluation of knowledge: without the titles showing, the books exist merely as forms, not as bearers of intellectual content. The endless stacks of anonymous books do indeed lend an unsettling air to the gallery. Interestingly enough, although many visitors rummaged through the books to trade for titles they were interested in, the careful piles with unseen titles were maintained throughout the evening.

Gallery visitors browse through the salvaged books collected by Cramer and others. Cramer lined an entire room with books (including a book-door and book-furniture) for an earlier departmental exhibition in the INDA department; her book towers are featured in the BFA exhibition at H&R Block Artspace as well. Photo: Emily Henson, courtesy of the artists

In one corner of the gallery, the book arts take a slightly different form under the guidance of Aly Parrott. With the instructions “Make a zine — take a zine,” the nook features a handful of small-format, handmade magazines with titles including “Crocheting 4 everyone” and “Easy-breezy plastic yarn bag.” An adjacent table offers a stack of white paper and writing utensils; visitors are encouraged to sit down and create their own 'zines, which are then posted above on a clothespin-board. Parrott explains that she wanted to work not only with the exchange of things, but also with the exchange of ideas and the sharing of knowledge. This approach proved especially successful with the younger generation of visitors, who enthusiastically shared drawings and stories.

John Hilger files away the "Trade Show" bids for furniture and larger items, which will be assigned to "winners" during the closing on May 21. Photo: Emily Henson, courtesy of the artists

John Hilger created the silent video that plays on a wall of the gallery, documenting the production of the works in fast-forward motion. He was also responsible for curating the stacks of surplus materials that fill a rack just inside the door, as well as popping up in other unexpected places. “I find this stuff on the side of the road and just perpetuate it,” he said. The genesis of Trade Show can be traced to Hilger, who originally envisioned a show where, he says, “I take all my stuff and give it away.” From there the idea evolved to trading off unused surplus material to people who could find a use for it, in keeping with Hilger’s focus on utilizing “unnatural resources,” where material availability drives the direction of the work. His eclectic collection made for some of the evening’s most interesting trades: a jar of gold and silver dental caps rescued from a dumpster was snatched up by a visitor in exchange for a very realistic plaster log, which Hilger was thrilled to acquire.

And ultimately, it was the trading rather than the objects being traded that really mattered. The key issue at stake is valuation, and the artists argue that intangible things like community, interaction, and dialogue have a value not recognized in monetary systems. Starowitz said the goal was to provide a different model of a studio, as a social space for collaborative practice, a space of work, value, and empowerment. In this view, the artist is also a facilitator and designer, an active social agent. This is a model of art and artist being explored in KCAI’s Interdisciplinary Arts program (often simply called INDA) — or rather, it is the model that has been explored, since after six years the department will close its doors with this year’s graduating class — ironically enough, due to financial reasons, according to its students. The school's leadership has decided to focus more on applied arts and design and even has added a new Digital Media major to begin in fall 2010. Are these areas more worthy than INDA? If so, this  is an act of valuation at a much larger scale, where institutional visions and priorities are clearly privileging more traditional notions of art as artifact over the interdisciplinary notion of art as experience. I am surprised, and a little saddened, that the artists did not choose to address this highly relevant issue anywhere within the context of the show.

But though there were some missed opportunities, the show was clearly a success at actively engaging the public. The gallery was full to nearly overflowing almost all evening, and there was usually a crowd of 10 to 15 people outside as well, drawn by the bluegrass harmonies of Deadman Flats, a Lawrence, Kansas-based band that traded its musical talent on opening and closing nights in exchange for the artists’ redecoration of the band’s tour bus interior. There seemed to be a good mix of people coming to the show, both those who had read about it in advance and had come prepared to trade, and those who had just wandered in off the street. One of the latter approached the wheeling-and-dealing table at the front with a hand-bound book and, clearly enchanted with it, asked how much it cost. After Starowitz explained to her that she had to trade something for it, she rummaged in her purse frantically trying to find something; failing that, she fingered her necklace before deciding, “No, it was my grandmother’s.” In the end she left empty-handed, with a promise to return the next Friday with something to trade.

Coptic book-binding kits were popular items that other aritsts and gallery visitors made trade promises to receive. Photo: Emily Henson, courtesy of the artists

Those who did successfully negotiate an exchange were given a “Receipt of Trade” hand-lettered on paperboard box pieces with a gold seal; the items traded were itemized on it, and one copy was given to the trader while the other remained as an inventory slip for the artists. A few receipts were posted around the gallery for items the artists wished to keep on display, along with the items traded for them — a pair of silver earrings here, an envelope of photographs there. Artwork was a popular item for trade, given the high incidence of other artists in the crowd, but there were also several unusual and creative bids. Meals, studio access, and the use of trucks were all put forth. One person offered a shirtless cleaning service, which the artists were seriously considering as an option for the gallery tear-down. One woman was slightly bewildered when told she could bid $500 for a pine table, since no cash would be accepted outright, but that bid would not necessarily outweigh a Thanksgiving dinner for four. Unlike most silent auctions, the bids are secret, so no one knows what anyone else has offered; this helps prevent people from having preconceived notions of value.*

Despite the serious philosophical undertones, a spirit of easy camaraderie prevailed all evening. The words “neoliberal capitalism” did not cross anyone’s lips, nor did Karl Marx make an appearance (although I have a sneaking suspicion he was hiding between the covers of Communism in Eastern Europe, which left under the arm of a beaming book trader). While this undoubtedly increased greatly the number and enthusiasm of the participants, I think the approach might have been a bit too low-key, with the message getting lost in the bustle of activity. Aside from the ceramic tags on the wall, there is little to indicate the alternative economic theories that provide the underlying framework for the show. I think many people left the gallery without ever realizing the significant cultural issues the artists were trying to address; this is a pity, because their ideas are worth being heard.

Overall, though, Cramer, Hilger, Parrott, and Starowitz were clearly successful in pushing the boundaries of the traditional gallery exhibition and actively engaging the public. But history has shown us it is wise to withhold judgment on the success of grand social experiments until their implications are fully realized, so it will be interesting to see how the Trade Show plays out over the next two weeks. If you want to see for yourself, grab something you can live without and head down to KCAI at the Crossroads on Friday. But be prepared to get a little more than you bargained for.

Note:

*I debated for some time about whether or not I myself should engage in trading at the gallery. On the one hand, I was there in a professional capacity, and I should theoretically maintain journalistic objectivity; on the other hand, “journalistic objectivity” (if such a thing can be said to exist) is precisely the detached, passive attitude towards art this show is trying to counter, and I could not fully enter into the spirit of the thing without participating. In the end I didn’t offer anything for trade, but I decided for the sake of provocation to ask the artists what they would trade me for a good review. Starowitz pre-empted this by offering me (unsolicited) a ceramic tag of my choice in appreciation for writing the review―but being the fine upstanding journalist that I am, I turned him down. Journalistic objectivity might be a myth, but journalistic integrity is not.

-re-

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