Dem Bones
Around town with Bones – 4/8
I can’t figure out why any artist in their right mind would complain “there’s nothing new” in Milwaukee. Balls! I just saw two great Peter Barrickman paintings at Green Gallery, plus at GGWest, the most minimalist piece of art I’ve ever seen: a slender slice of wood painted white and propped in a corner of GGW’s third floor space, which also houses Club Nutz, the world’s smallest stand-up comedy club. You know, when I talk to John Riepenhoff I feel a real burst of hope for the arts. The people around him are smart and young and energetic. What a tonic. It isn’t that I don’t respect artists who are mature (or old like me), but there comes a time when bi-focals have to give way to firm flesh and sharp eyes and keen ideas. Riepenhoff must be like Dean Jensen was in the olden days, and his adventurous mind reminds me much of Jensen, who is, by the way, a big fan of John and company. Deb Brehmer is down-on-her-knees sorting through piles of drawings from various Wisconsin-based artists. My eyes like Paul Caster’s stuff, but you can decide from seven participants when the show (Tender is the Line) opens in the Portrait Gallery (Floor 5) on Gallery Night & Day (April 17-18). Her expanded space now includes TWO galleries, the latter to be known as “Gallery B,” with walls being painted blood red as I write. Down the hall, also on floor five, Catherine Davidson has established a new little office with walls of eggplant hue. Her larger venue is on floor two. Jilan Glynn is curating a GN&D exhibit at Soups On. Does anyone remember Jane Brite, co-founder of Walker’s Point Center for the Arts? Allegedly, she’s the new “art consultant” for the Charles Allis/Villa Terrace Museums. They’ve ground through quite a number of staffers in the last few years, and seem to be very zipped-lipped when it comes to press releases announcing who’s new and who’s not. I’m really saddened that no one has ventured forth with a guess as to who “Pierre Renee” is. His photographs are hanging in the Riverfront Pizza Bat & Grill on Erie St. I guess no one cares but Mr. Renee, hey? Okay, Stella will sweeten the Pierre pot and buy a veggie pizza for the FIRST person who posts the correct answer in the comment section. All the stupefying silly-ness over whether or not alderpersons like the public sculpture proposed for Wisconsin Avenue. It’s sort of a low blow to make comments about Bob Donavan’s missing teeth though. Or is it tooth? It should be even more stupefying when “concerned” artists mass in order to voice their ego-driven agendas about the project’s ix-nayers. Real artists will be home making art, but Pegi Taylor will likely be out and about milling around. Stella says later gator. There’s way more coming …
Apr 8th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
What Would Jesus Say?
While we’re on the subject of nudes at MAM, and continuing the idea that picking on “Standing Woman” is sexist, here are a few males to consider: Torso of a Male Athlete: Marble. Missing head, arms, one leg and part of another. Some of the penis is gone missing too, but not all of it. Male Ancestor Figure: Wood. What’s that between his legs? The Kiss: Painted plaster cast. No lack of imagination in this one.
Apr 2nd, 2009 by Stella Cretek
Drink Like An Egyptian
Who knows if King Tut was given to tippling, but when his tomb was opened in 1922, three dozen plain pottery wine jars were discovered inside, twenty-six of which had hieroglyphs telling of the vineyard location, the estate where it was produced, and the vinter who produced it. Two pots were labeled “very good.” Tut died in 1352 BC, and perhaps the labels were the first, or almost the first, examples of things to come in the world of labels. A few of the wine jars in the tomb were empty. Or perhaps laced with poison, who knows? My personal favorite label, is pasted in my Cooking of Provincial France cookbook, circa 1968. The label from a Beaujolais Saint-Amour burgundy produced by “Jaboulet-Vercherre,” is square, designed in tones of burgundy, white and metallic gold. Stamped “JV,” it includes a coat-of-arms bannered “in tenebris lumen rectis,” which means, “true light in the darkness.” I drank large draughts of the Beaujolais while mastering the art of whipping up Coquille Saint-Jacques a la Provencale, which incidentally, is best served with a dry white wine. Dude, peel me a grape. Paper labels as we know them today, weren’t developed for general use until around 1860, when manufacturers understood how to make them stick to glass. Prior to that, well-heeled households used silver “bottle tickets” hung by narrow silver chains from wine decanters. In the 1740s, European wineries sold their products unlabeled. They were stored stacked in bins and the bins were then identified with glazed pottery tags. Labels were designed to inform. Consider this from a late 1800s bottle of sweet red Tokay from Hungary: This wine having been stored in wood for the full period necessary for maturity, and all unwholesome acids being thereby eliminated, is safely included in the dietary scale of the invalid; whilst its fine delicate bouquet will please the taste of the connoisseur. Makes you want to drink yourself stupid doesn’t it? In 2001, an image of Mona Lisa sporting a red mustache took first prize in a label-making content hyped by Wine Maker Magazine An obvious rip off of “Got Milk” campaign, I wonder if it bombed? Anyone who shops for wine, knows it’s the label that grabs the eye and it’s the label that clinches the sale. Face it, it’s where “art meets commerce.” The youth of today now drink more wine than beer, and yes, these are the youths who grew up with television, digital graphics, People Magazine, and clothing “branded” with labels. Come on now, who wouldn’t want a bottle of “Marilyn Merlot,” named after Marilyn Monroe who died way back in 1962. She’s there on the label in living color…head thrown back, rosy lips parted to reveal pearly teeth. Her famous eyes are partially closed. Clad in a ribbed white tank-top; a delicate necklace dripping seal shells and polished stone hangs around her famous neck. A wine expert claims Marilyn Merlot (2003 Napa Valley Winery) is “middling,” and it’s suggested that perhaps connoisseurs should […]
Apr 1st, 2009 by Judith Ann Moriarty
Around Town With Bones
Milwaukee’s icon, Bob Watt, is 84! And who deserves it more than this Beat poet and painter/sculptor? I mean, it’s an honor to live long enough to be dissed by Pegi Taylor, local art nay-sayer. Jimmy Von Milwaukee hosted a party at his loft (complete with performance art and poetry) for Watt, and down from Manitowoc drove Johny Shimon & Julie Lindemann to capture a few moments. You can see a few of them at their Flickr site, but being photographed and celebrated by Johny & Julie is a big deal, for J & J are photographers of renown, recently having a great retrospective of their work aired at the Milwaukee Art Museum. Stella herself has been photographed by J & J, memorably so when photographed wearing a Packer helmet while sitting on Watt’s ample lap. The closing of Nicholas Grider’s “Men In Suits” exhibit brought lots of ogglers to floor five of the Marshall Building. Crammed into the Portrait Gallery’s two small rooms, and spilling out into the narrow hall, many of the visitors were subjects in Grider’s ‘Men” photographs, so it wasn’t unusual to see Peter Goldberg standing in front of his portrait, holding his stomach in, just like he did for the photograph. Other celebs included others portrayed: Kyle Cherek, Skip Forest, Joe Pabst, and a host of manly men. Three women agreed to be included in the project wall grid. Deb Brehmer produced a slick mini-catalog for the event, and they sold like hotcakes for $15.00. The gallery is open Friday/Saturdays from 1-4pm. Next up? Tender Is The Line. Seven artists & the art of drawing. Allegedly, Wisconsin Visual Artists (formerly known as Wisconsin Painters & Sculptors), is NOT moving on to floor two of the Marshall Building, but Phylis Toburen is exiting from floor one, just so you know. And isn’t it sweet that Bill Delind Gallery is newly installed at Geo.Watt’s emporium, in the space formerly occupied by pots and pans? As I’ve written in prior posts, I can see Green Gallery East from my condo digs. Michelle Grabner’s silverpoint drawings are newly installed, along with a sensational Guest Mobile. It’s hard to believe that this place was recently a dump of a former defunct pizza joint. The smaller “back room” has two Jose Lerma “paintings”(earth mixed with acrylic base), and a whiz of an installation consisting of (to my mind) something creepy concerning the Spanish Inquisition. It’s brilliant. Lerma gave up law school in Madison to become an artist. Lucky for us.
Mar 30th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
Pierre Renee
Give Me a Break Wake up all you elitists! While you are enjoying a pizza at Riverfront Pizzeria on Erie Street, look around at the photographs and see if you can figure out who “Pierre Renee” is… ask your waitperson about the work on the walls, most of it in the small rooms adjacent to the bar area. Gee whiz, I’ve never heard of Pierre Renee, have you? Is he a bona-fide photographer or just some chap with a camera who likes to click click? There’s an 800 number attached to the frames so you can call and find out more should you care enough. Here’s a clue or two: In a recent Milwaukee Magazine article, writer Tom Bamberger raised some issues about the Breakwater condo on Prospect Avenue. Shortly thereafter, a “newsletter” began circulating in virtual space, ostensibly sent from the offices of the architect who brought Breakwater to town. It questioned Bamberger’s “credentials,” and slammed Bamberger’s photographs as not “appropriate for the Breakwater.” But that was a bit beside the point. Read on. So gee whiz, you have to ask yourself, would Pierre Renee’s photographs be more appropriate? They’re pretty awful, but well, go to the pizza place and decide for yourself if big blowsy images would best fit with the big blowsy Breakwater designed by ????? If you’re still in the dark, then so be it. Do you know who Renee is? The answer is hilarious, or so says I.
Mar 30th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
Peepers
So get busy already. You have until Sunday, April 5th to do your Marshmallow Peep Show project and take it to the Sugar Maple smoke-free bar at 441 E. Lincoln Avenue in trendy Bay View. No entry fee; no jury, so hurry. Be there from 2-6pm. No self-respecting serious artists need show their faces, but all others seeking fun can price their peep art, and if it sells, believe it or not Ripley, they won’t have to pay a commission. A suggested donation of $2 at the door will go to the Bay View Community Center and special peep-inspired cocktails will be served by Sugar Maple .Organized by artist Nicole Hauser, a sweet treat herself, she’s back after a two year hiatus with hopes you’ll be inspired by this year’s hatching of those little fowls with beady eyes. And from the artist herself: Hi Friends, As many of you know, I am bringing back the “Peep Show” on Sunday, April 5th from 2-6 pm at the SUGAR MAPLE. However, Cafe Lulu is advertising that they are bringing back the Peep Show – and on the very same day!! They didn’t change the name or make any attempts to contact me first. Please, don’t be fooled by imposters!! Thanks and hope to see you at the ORIGINAL PEEP SHOW – #4. Sincerely, Nicole Reid and Cathrine Friedmann
Mar 28th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
Blarney Stoned
Oh Bridget where be ye? And who be ye? A Sheehan, Moran, Sullivan? Do you really expect me to find your gravesite with such slim pickins? No birth certificate, only the date (1849) you arrived on these shores, bound from Inch Bridge in Ireland, perhaps married (to John Moriarty, laborer), ten years your senior. A wedding certificate indicates you maybe married John in Massachusetts, but your name is oddly smeared on the document. So many Bridgets, so many Johns, how to know which one belongs to you? It’s said you were buried in Aberdeen, South Dakota. I drove there and couldn’t find you on the plains where sheep once roamed. I’ve searched Iowa gravesites too, near where you bought land in Muscatine County, Iowa, lots of graves, but no you; rows and rows of bones, but no you resting beneath slabs embellished with stuffed teddy bears, strange photographs, sagging crosses and angels with missing parts. Uh oh Bridget, it says here on the yellowing document I unearthed in the Muscatine County courthouse, that you lifted your skirts to neighboring farmer Henry Stoneburner. The document, filed and signed by John Moriarty (with an “X”), points fingers at two October nights, then asks for a divorce AND alimony. The trail petered out, so I’m guessing you refused the divorce, good Catholic be ye. Or were ye? Okay, the Iowa winters were long and hard and Stoneburner was only a stone’s throw away, plus he must have recognized a good plow when he saw one, but shouldn’t ye have known better? Also, I’m given to wondering just how John knew what you were up to. Apparently he drifted away after he addressing the court (leaving you with two kids), but his name, “Wandering John,” is still legendary in 2009. Could be he fled home to Ireland and drank his days away, but in all fairness, he may have been an okay chap saddled with the wrong woman in the wrong place in the wrong time. While grave searching in South Dakota, were you looking up from your pine box and laughing at me, your great granddaughter on a useless mission, combing through the weeds and crumbling slabs to no avail? I mean to say, why should I give a hoot about you? Though named after a saint, you were apparently not one. That said, I do admire your grit. So tell me, how did you manage to get through the Pearly Gates? As a Moran, a Sheehan, a Sullivan, a Moriarty? Things are tough enough up there, what with identity theft and wigs and false noses and plastic surgery, some of it transgender. Unsnarling the heavenly list must be nigh impossible, and whoever was guarding the Gates the day you waltzed through with your skirts held high, was likely snookered grandly. I’m guessing here. Did you know that one of Wandering John’s ancestors (a Maurice Moriarty by name) chased the Earl of Desmond into the Slieve Mish Mountains where he cut off his […]
Mar 17th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
The New Mar-Ho?
Floor Two in the Marshall Building is getting crowded! Step of the elevator and directly in front of your face is Catherine Davidson’s gallery, and around the corner from that is Gallery 218. Down the hall and to the right is a space Stella hears is going to be the new gallery space for the Wisconsin Visual Artists organization (formerly Wisconsin Painters & Sculptors), the oldest non-profit in the state dedicated to visual artists based in this state. We’re wondering if this place will represent only artists in the southeast chapter, or will it house the works of WVA’s other chapters? Rumors are rumors. We’re just asking. Whatever, a furtive look into the area reveals a large area set behind double glass doors. When we visited in early March, the concrete floor was newly stained and two royal blue chairs were in place. It’s said it will be open for the coming Gallery Night & Day. So Mar-Ho allegedly is the place to be, at least from the standpoint of having a wealth of grazing possibilities. Floor five is alive with the Portrait Gallery and their additional new space directly across the hall, and floor one is home to Grava Gallery and the adjacent Elaine Erickson Gallery, whose owner chirped “the more the merrier.” Of course, it’s only merry if dealers are actually selling art, and what they sell (quality anyone?) should be the primary concern of anyone and everyone seeking something other than the banal. The aforementioned Catherine Davidson also has an office on floor five, with walls painted a great shade of “eggplant” that will do for my purposes. The front entry to the Marshall Building could use a face-lift, as could the lobby which is awash with sandwich boards hyping what’s where. As is, it’s like stepping into a rummage-0-rama. This can be fixed however. Lurking behind various other doors in Mar-Ho are attorneys, masseuse types, party planners, a female detective, the Shepherd Express, and who knows what? Should you desire, Jings serves great Chinese eats, and a reasonably priced cup of joe is available (with cigarettes!) in the wee space on the first floor. Everyone is harping about the big increase in Third Ward parking meter fees, which seems like a duh! move in these problematical times, but then again, perhaps the powers that be figure that anyone shopping in the Third Ward has plenty of change to spare and they are happy to take it.
Mar 12th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
Stonewalled
John Riepenhoff of Green Gallery fame, kindly send me a folder of jpeg images for a proposal he and his collaborators submitted for the Lincoln Park space. Here is an exact quote from Mr. Riepenhoff: “Attached is our proposal, they didn’t ask for budget and had limited space for description and slides on the first round of submissions, but they were supposed to invite several artists back to give a proposal talk that Soga gave so the committee could decide from the more in depth interview process who they like best, but somehow Soga was the only one the subcommittee allowed to speak.” If you’ve been following the controversy (led my Pegi Taylor of In Site), Ripenhoff’s contribution is one more piece of the puzzle. In the above quote, he says “but somehow,” and now you may ask, “but how some (Soga) and not others?”
Mar 12th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
An Artist’s Statement (How to Write One)
I was just a little kid when I picked up my first ever crayola and made a mark on paper. Oh, it was exciting to realize I too could be an artist. In kindergarten I won an award for the best drawing of a single line. My family was very poor and so we had only one crayon (a red one!). I’ve been using one color (red) ever since those days. I owe it all to my mother who used one red crayon. My grandma was a big help. Her hair was red. She was a huge influence, though it left a wide scar on my psyche when she died the day before her roots were retouched. It’s moments like that that shape artists and set them on their way. I’m often asked what my paintings “mean.” I dunno. Art is in the eye of the beholder isn’t it? Leastwise, that’s what I hear. People who demand to understand art are off-track, which maybe is why I bombed out during my art education years. My professor told me that I must move on from making a single red line. That seemed unfair and, in many ways, elitist. Stardom isn’t important to me, though sometimes I do feel a bit of envy when I notice art that is made with, say, two lines in green; but then again, we all have our special talents, and one line in red is mine. God works in strange ways. Did I mention that in third grade I won a prize for filling the most sheets of expensive paper with my single red line? The teacher hung it in the room as an example of flat-line thinking. My advice to aspiring artists? Oh dear, well, I guess I’d say stick to your guns and don’t be swayed by choices now that you (perhaps) have an entire box of dazzling Crayolas. After all, it’s up to viewers to decide what my single red line means. It could be a deer peeking out from a forest, or maybe a sunset in the Rockies. Next year I’ve been invited to exhibit my one million drawings, which actually are Xeroxed copies of the piece I did in kindergarten so many years ago. Other artists have begun to steal my ideas, and I say More Power To Them. That said, I like to think I am the one and only original which is why I sign my name (Hortense “Honey” Swartzburger) in big black marker across the front of each piece. Snobs tell me that no respected artist scrawls her names on the front of her work, but that’s their problem. My work is in various collections throughout the globe: SockitTumi Shoe Laces in Hiroshima, Bees & Babes Poster Shoppe in Hackensack (New Jersey), and even in the permanent collection at MOMA (Museum of Maligned Art) in Swampyville, Georgia. Each and every day is spent Xeroxing my mark. It’s a lonely life but I’m not complaining. It’s what I do.
Mar 11th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
In the Dick of Time
This whole media flap about the ‘Tosa mom who objects to (among other things) MAM’s “Standing Woman” sculpture, weighs in too heavily on the side of tits and ass, i.e. the bodacious breasts and the lusty bottom on the woman standing tall. Odd isn’t it, that no mention has been made of the penises, of which there are a few standing proud in the Folk Art Collection at MAM. I guess you could call them “woodies” as they actually are to be found in carvings from wood. Take your time trying to spot them. Picking on Standing Woman is out and out sexist. Give the dame a break. The outcry from the uber-right reminds me of an incident that occurred when former Milwaukee artist, Carrie Scoczek, had the nerve to display some sculptures of male nudes in a storefront in Walkers Point. Shortly after they were installed, she strolled by the store/gallery and noticed each penis had been covered with band-aids, a twist on the old fig leaf thing. The gallery owner said he covered them because they were offensive. Have we lost our collective memories? I remember when performance artist Karen Findley stripped to the buff at a Walker’s Point gallery, much to the delight of the crowd. I think she then busied herself by slathering on syrup and feathers. Maybe I’m imagining this, but I’m almost sure that in MAM’s heady performance art days, a guy buck naked hung by his ankles in the east wing. And then there was actor John Schneider in the altogether at a Theater-X performance….
Mar 10th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
Big Decks, Little Decks
You show me yours. I’ll show you mine. Tom Bamberger’s feature article in the February issue of Milwaukee Magazine is posted online via the magazine. Titled “The Peter Principle,” it’s a review of architect Peter Renner’s BreakWater on North Franklin Place. It’s a fair enough article. Renner lost it completely when his office circulated a reply, which can best be described as trash. He lowered himself to actually sending someone out to take photos of Bamberger’s personal residence on National Avenue, then sunk ever deeper by adding snide remarks about Bamberger’s photographic skills (not suitable for The BreakWater!). The bottom of the pissy pit arrived when he added snide comments about Bamberger’s personal life, including his “finances.” Why did Renner sink to this level? Speaking of peters, Renner was responsible for erecting those horrible phallic things that mark various territories in the Third Ward. Maybe that was the first clue about things to come. Who knows why Peter became so unprincipled? It’s a jungle out there folks. Everyone in the building I live in (north of The Breakwater), is talking about the feature in Milwaukee Magazine, so you can bet it will be widely read and widely discussed. You show me your deck. I’ll show you mine. MJS architecture critic, what’s your take?
Jan 30th, 2009 by Stella Cretek
