Installation view of Hugh Scott-Douglas "A cashed cheque, a canceled stamp"

Jessica Silverman is the owner and director of Jessica Silverman Gallery, located at 804 Sutter Street (between Jones and Leavenworth) in San Francisco. Currently installed is Dashiell Manley’s exhibition of double-sided objects and animated videos whose unique aesthetics and conceptual complexity echoes the entirety of Silverman’s roster.

AH: Do you consider yourself as a gallerist, curator or a dealer?

JS: When I first opened the gallery, I saw myself as a dealer and as a curator. But as the gallery has grown, my role has evolved and I have had to readjust my position. At the moment when people ask me for a title I say, owner and director.

That being said, I curated our recent group show Erogenous Zones.  During installation of this and other shows I am committed to resolving curatorial aspects of the exhibition. I see my role as continuously shifting from working with the artist but also taking care of the collectors, the museums and the institutions.  They are in the end equally as responsible for our growth as are the artists.

AH: How long have you had a gallery? I know that this is the second location.

JS: This is the second location. When I moved to San Francisco, I was in the Curatorial Practice program at CCA.  I opened the gallery at a basement location in the Dogpatch during the second year of my MA. I was there for one year. I had initially thought that I would do something like an artist-run space but we formalized the gallery and moved in 2008 to our current location.

Installation view of Dashiell Manley's solo show

Installation view of Lucas Michael "After Hours"

AH:  How do fairs fit into your program? This is something that’s new to me and I think to an extent it’s fairly fresh in the art world. What part do you think they play in the art world in general? I get the feeling that the best galleries are increasingly fair focused.

JS: Being a dealer in San Francisco I wanted to make sure that we positioned ourselves in an international dialogue and in order to do that you have to do fairs. I really love them and think about the booths as exhibitions. Fairs are very commercially driven and sales driven but they are also incredible opportunities for a large group of curators, dealers and collectors to see work all at once. Last year we did 8 art fairs.

AH: Wow.

JS: I think this year we’ll do close to 6 or 7. We’ve already taken on a new one in Chicago in September. Last year we did Dallas and Cologne, which were new fairs as well as NADA New York.

AH: I think that’s the fear for someone like me. I’m just learning about fairs, which is sort of naïve but true, and how the work can provide a context for itself and be read not as these autonomous things that are bought and traded but as art.

JS: It’s an important thing to try to wrap your head around and we have to just keep trying different fairs and see what works with our program. They’re not all slam-dunks.

AH: You’re in San Francisco, which is not known for necessarily adventurous exhibition making especially within a commercial format. Why are you here? What is your relationship to the Bay Area?

JS:  Before I went to CCA, I had been working for an art advisor in LA and I really thought that I would move back to LA and open a gallery there but decided to give SF a chance.

I’ve really taken to San Francisco and I feel like it’s really taken to me. I like working here. I love my collectors here and I love that I’m close to LA.  Staring the gallery in San Francisco allowed me the chance to grow without being under constant scrutiny.  If you look at New York, it’s hard for a younger dealer to hold onto a hot artist. In San Francisco, for the most part, there’s a slower build and I feel like that allows me to develop careers in a much more thorough manner before they skyrocket. Being in a small city, you also have more access to the curators here. We have very close relationships with the CCA Wattis, Berkeley At Museum and SFMOMA .

Installation view of group show "Forms and Inflections"

Installation view of Dashiell Manley's solo show

AH: Do you have any advice to a young curator or would-be dealer?

JS: Try to keep in mind the historical references that contemporary artists are aligning themselves with right now. I believe strongly in building relationships between different histories.  As I move forward I like to look back at more historic moments.

AH: Is that something that you actively do – put artists in contact with some sort of reference?

JS: Yes, I send links all the time of things that they need to be aware of.  I also try to find group show opportunities that contextualize the work, alongside other artists that were making work that has a similar resonance from the ‘40s or ‘50s, 60’s, 70s etc. Those are the dialogues I’m interested in and I try to make sure that the artists are really aware of the whole spectrum of information.

Entrance to Krowswork, with Carrie Hott's 'Blackout Means Black'

all photos courtesy Krowswork Gallery 2012

Friday, June 22, 2012 saw the opening of DocumentO, an extremely ambitious project at Krowswork Gallery in Oakland, California.  It was organized by its Director, Jasmine Moorhead. Operating under the guise of an unofficial satellite show to dOCUMENTA (13), the massive, 100-day exhibition held every five years in Kassel, Germany, the show at Krowswork is a brief (July 1 close) overview of the art scene in Oakland. It has been noted that ‘no one likes these things when they happen’, but judging by early reviews, dOCUMENTA’s main curator, Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev, has put together a stellar show.

This is no small accomplishment given the potential for an enormous budget,  coupled with a who’s who of international artists, to be eclipsed by the numerous biennials and international exhibitions dotting the calendar; not to mention the curator’s oversized personality and tendency toward bold, broad statements which could have easily overshadowed the exhibition, making dOCUMENTA’s mostly positive reception all the more surprising.

For a thorough, informal, but critical review/walk through, see the three blog posts at http://blog.frieze.com/archive/)

documentO found itself presaged by a bit of bold writing/framing by Moorhead, which localized Christov-Bakargiev’s theory about the current status of the artist as occupying a series of possible positions with art as sort of emergent phenomena:

“What does it mean to be in a state of siege?
What does it mean to be in a state of hope?
What does it mean to be in withdrawal, in retreat?
What do I do when I am onstage, when I am performing?”

Moorhead draws parallels to Oakland with its perpetual ‘state of siege’, its situation as a model for America,  and its artists as performing Oakland. I will expand on how the show addresses these concerns later, but what sticks out most at the preview is the shear number of artists included. There were fifty, yes, fifty, in the show, which led to cramped quarters at times. The other, less obvious observation is how eclectic they are.  Many engage in practices far outside the discernible boundaries of Art Murmur or classic Oakland-based art.   Many, too, have exhibited internationally and/or within the Bay Area’s larger institutions.

While an interesting cross-section of the art scene, it lacked key attributes.  First, space, in order to consider the individual works.  Second, context to go along with the art beyond their titles, materials, et al. Within this very specific context, some pieces still managed to carve out space enough to be read, but, in general, little beyond immediate visceral aesthetic affect was offered.

It may be  a result of the work itself and curatorial decisions about placement, although the work appearing on the salon-style wall was not much more than a blur–no one piece was differentiated from the others.  It could be they were victims of a deficiency (many were bland photographs), choices about display, or perhaps, more candidly, my own unwillingness to look closer. This contrasted greatly with the small room facing the entry where the works felt more individuated, creating a balance that worked, despite a tedious drawing by Dean Smith placed in the center of the room.

Hillary Weidemann, 'Trying to Remember the Equatorial Sun'

Confirmation bias, the tendency to see evidence which confirms previously held opinions, held sway on my review of the work.  I found myself drawn to works/practices I was familiar with such as Hillary Wiedemann’s excellent Trying to Remember the Equatorial Sun. I especially remember the hours absorbing the futile struggle of a camcorder attempting to capture the sun, resulting in various colored artifacts becoming simultaneously tragic and funny. Also worthwhile among this grouping was the abstract work of John Davis and Suzy Poling which included two, similarly grainy films.

There was much time-based media on display throughout the show, including Zarouhie Abdalian’s peculiar Drift, a film about debris outflow from the Mississippi.  The details were so illegible that it felt  like a sketch on a small screen. Also, Tooth and Moyah Pravah Newsreel’s hectic, 16 mm film, which would have benefited from a larger format (it was shown on a small screen as a video transfer), and Chris and Greg’s (Chris Vargas and Greg Youmans) silly take on the reality show ‘Work of Art’ where their versions of queer art are disparagingly critiqued by the show’s judges. A subtle video by Matthew Draving worked well on small screen.  Its ambiguous content sat tilted in the frame with its mac top bar provided a sort of time and name signature and the introduction, for a brief second,  the shadow of a hand, established and broke a second wall of sorts. As previously mentioned, familiarity with these artists and their work, I suspect, contributed to my preselection of the works I chose to review.

Highlights from the rest of the show include Chris Fraser’s light installation in a corner of the pew room, a subtle variation on his practice investigating projected and estranged light. Two of the painters whose work I respond to,  in part due to their medium/style’s lack of a need for context, were Steuart Pittman’s small Mansio Mens– three black geometric shapes and on a hazy background and John Zurier’s strikingly similarly concerned Jenny, a simple duo-chrome work. Their works complemented each other although they are from wildly disparate art worlds and generations–Zurier received  his MFA not long after Pittman’s birth, and the  juxtapositions fueled excitement.

Kelly Lynn Jones’ Shelf from the Lifestyle Store, a collection of mocked objects (using what I often refer to as dumb trompe l’oeil and meant as a compliment), stood out well from the pack.  So did Emma Spertus’s sculpture, fortunate enough to be situated outdoors.   It was a foreshortened,  ping-pong table/box object, providing relief from the main exhibition in its playfulness and serendipity.  Less pleasing were Favianna Rodriguez’s posters Its My Body – It’s My Pussy I’m a Slut. Their content, confrontational counter-point to recent conservatist legislation, was forced, although, admittedly I dislike her illustration style.

Emma Spertus, 'Tale of Two', 2012

The lack of context was especially awkward to some of the work by artist’s whose practice is deeply vested in a broader project. Two former Berkeley Art Museum Matrix artists, Desirée Holman and David Wilson, was a bit lost in the show with each represented by a singular drawing. Holman’s Flesh Texture (Diffuse Map), a strange color pencil drawing of a sort of flattened face was simply too weird without its video accompaniment, and David Wilson’s delicate illustration of various small plants feels precious and irrelevant separated from his broader practice which is made relevant by the shear breadth of his nature studies.  Much of the show’s photography, particularly on a large salon-style wall, did not allow for individual impact, suggesting that some of these artists might benefit from placement in larger groupings or at the very least, explanatory text.

In the end, my anticipation of what the show would be like matched what I saw in person.  It was an ambitious, risky, exciting project which dared to present a vision of what Oakland art is. Its potential felt hemmed in by the  complicated nature of its ambitions and a lack of space and/or editing. That assessment is a harsh one, because as a curator,  I am unsure I could have done a better job of incorporating so many strains and subcultures of the Oakland scene. I imagine I  would have’d be hemmed in by a too tightly wound aesthetic, and I don’t really subscribe to presenting (or viewing) art through a regionalist’s lens. The contradiction here is that Oakland is an especially vital place in the Bay Area, and potentially, in the broader art conversation. There are many incredible artists here, with more migrating every year for various educational opportunities and the wide array of cultural offerings.  My feelings are best reflected in my agreement (and disagreement) with Moorhead’s statement for the show:

Oakland has spent much of the last year in a state of siege. And before that, and before that.

Oakland, this sprawling urban space, has never been any more or less under siege. Traveling around Oakland before, during and after the most visible aspects of Occupy, things are the same as they ever were, with people going to and from work and school semi-oblivious to what seem to those close to the matter life/game changing experiences and events. So, before that and before that, there was distrust in the local and broader government, general segregation-lite, creeping gentrification (of which the art spaces and artists which are multiplying here are the vanguard).  Can an art show promote change, political or social in a way that denies either spectacle or commodity, or must it always operate as an ‘enemy from within’?

Oakland right now is being asked to perform for the world. These artists, who either live or work in Oakland, are performing Oakland.

Who is asking? This feels unresolved, our place within a broader art historical and contemporary context is something we create regardless of outside desire. We are not being asked, yet via our projects here and away we do perform Oakland, which is to say, we reflect in our general tone and wide ranging productions this place as peculiarly vital (especially given the lack of substantial institutional, fiscal, and state support). Art is unsolicited and in surplus to the everyday; the futility of adding one more picture, one more object, one more action to the scheme of things is both disheartening and exciting.

I am excited about the potential of In Protest, an event organized in tandem by the Kadist Art Foundation and the Berkeley Art Museum/Pacific Film Archive, to be held Wednesday, May 9^th at 7pm.

Artists have been asked to design posters with a specific or abstract political message to be given away at this one night event. The list of artists includes many whom I instantly associate with politically charged practices such as Rigo 23, Martha Rosler, and Natasha Wheat and many whose posters may help recast their interests in a more political light.

The artists are Zarouhie Abdalian, John Baldessari, Amy Balkin, Dodie Bellamy, Charlie Dubbe, Amy Franceschini, Doug Hall, Kevin Killian, Paul Kos, Tony Labat, Shaun O’Dell, Rigo 23, Piero Golia, Jordan Kantor, Martha Rosler, Allan Sekula, Mungo Thomson and Natasha Wheat.

Questions of art praxes’ political potentials and limitations are constantly swirling, all the more so in these highly charged times of active protest movements. The world has yet to come to terms with the revolutions recently transpired or those still afoot. And the future is less than settled in nations whose ‘completed’ revolts in the Arab Spring have left them in a terrible and dangerous state of flux. A military government is still in control of Egypt and in advance of elections, vying political factions are falling victim to massacres such as the one in Cairo on May 2^nd.  Closer to home (and much tamer despite the press’ over emphasis on its outlying criminal element) we have our local Occupy, revitalized in its May Day general strike. In each of these protests and in the more everyday ones (usually in the grand tradition of labor struggles, but also against abortion and pro or against various political personalities and parties) the arts play a major role, both as means of message production (signs, banners, et al.) and as a foothold for giving the myriad people some cohesiveness (ex. the various strains of music performed and DJed).

During a March 31^st talk at the Kadist curator Nato Thompson, whose excellent exhibition Living as Form is about to finish its satellite run in SF, discussed various ways in which art could engage with a wider audience, purpose and potential, noting (I’m paraphrasing) the worst thing we could do is commission a bunch of posters. But is such a curatorial proposal so untenable? In the introduction to Dorathea von Hantlemann’s excellent How to Do Things With Art (2010), she describes her theme as, “How does art become politically or socially significant and what preconditions must be fulfilled in order to enable artworks to attain such significance?”

In Protest will raise these questions anew, confronting Thompson’s challenge and interrogating Hantlemann’s question. Each artist will address both the specific audience in attendance and the vitality of their medium (the poster and art as a whole) in the context of the museum and the wider political conversation. And we,  the viewers,  will walk away with works of art.

My fellow Americans. As a young boy, I dreamed of being a baseball, but tonight I say, we must move forward, not backward, upward not forward, and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.’- Kodos, Treehouse of Horror VII

But these utopic systems ape dreams of self-reliance, of ‘all ships rising with the tide’, and are instead instantly subsumed into markets of capital and exchange- gusts to gold. The world depicted here has a similar relation to the viewer. Standing in the gallery we feel on stage, or as if the various objects are props to be activated like a toy box, but I think the truth of the matter is less participational. Marsden depicts a universe in which we are sidelined by double-speak and luxury, by a politic which is close-enough or least-of-evils. There are no solutions here, projects of unity and energy are transposed into means of perpetuation, a shadow version of sustainability. Set for an Altered State is a wonderful parting note from an outsider whose vision of this place was welcome, and hopefully will not be gone for long.