Blogs Untitled (Blog)

A Tale of Giant Chairs, an Imaginary Town Hall, and the Shaggs

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Like any run-of-the-mill church-basement folding chairs, the ones in our Lifelike show are stenciled to show ownership. “NFTH” reads the black-spraypainted ID on the backrest of Robert Therrien’s gigantic steel chairs. But what do they stand for? We’re told there’s a secret story about the letters’ personal significance to Therrien, but he’s not about to [...]

Like any run-of-the-mill church-basement folding chairs, the ones in our Lifelike show are stenciled to show ownership. “NFTH” reads the black-spraypainted ID on the backrest of Robert Therrien’s gigantic steel chairs. But what do they stand for?

We’re told there’s a secret story about the letters’ personal significance to Therrien, but he’s not about to tell it. Mostly, the acronym just underscores the institutional nature of such mass-produced objects. But there’s more.

“NFTH” stands for “North Fremont Town Hall.” There is no such place, to our knowledge, but the name is a coded nod to the Fremont Town Hall, in New Hampshire, the place where the band the Shaggs played in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Now hailed by connoisseurs of “outsider” music, the band was made up of the three Wiggin sisters, who despite a deficit of musical talent were urged to form a band by their father, Austin. As Susan Orlean wrote for the New Yorker in 1999, the elder Wiggin got the idea from his mother:

“When he was young, she studied his palm and told him that in the future he would marry a strawberry blonde and would have two sons whom she would not live to see, and that his daughters would play in a band. Her auguries were borne out. Annie was a strawberry blonde, and she and Austin did have two sons after his mother died. It was left to Austin to fulfill the last of his mother’s predictions, and when his daughters were old enough he told them they would be taking voice and music lessons and forming a band. There was no debate: his word was law, and his mother’s prophecies were gospel. Besides, he chafed at his place in the Fremont social system. It wasn’t so much that his girls would make him rich and raise him out of a mill hand’s dreary métier; it was that they would prove that the Wiggin kids were not only different from but better than the folks in town.”

Of the Shaggs’ music, Orlean wrote, “Something is sort of wrong with the tempo, and the melodies are squashed and bent, nasal, deadpan. Are the Shaggs referencing the heptatonic, angular microtones of Chinese ya-yueh court music and the atonal note clusters of Ornette Coleman, or are they just a bunch of kids playing badly on cheap, out-of-tune guitars?”

Still, they found a sort of cult following: Frank Zappa reportedly said they were “better than the Beatles”; Irwin Chusid included them in his 2000 book, Songs in the Key of Z: The Curious Universe of Outsider Music; and their music has been re-released (spawning a tribute album, titled after Zappa’s quote, with covers by the likes of Deerhoof and the Dirty Projectors).

Here’s the Shaggs performing “My Pal Foot Foot”:

Chuck Hits the Road

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Chuck Close’s Big Self Portrait (1967-1968), which is featured in the Lifelike exhibition, also recently made a sojourn (in postcard form) to Nepal and India. His presence incited a few double-takes and queries from the locals – Who is this smoking guy? Do you worship him? Close said of his portraits in 1970, ”I am not trying to make facsimiles of photographs. Neither [...]

Chuck Close’s Big Self Portrait (1967-1968), which is featured in the Lifelike exhibition, also recently made a sojourn (in postcard form) to Nepal and India. His presence incited a few double-takes and queries from the locals – Who is this smoking guy? Do you worship him?

Chuck Close's "Big Self-Portrait" installed in "Lifelike"; to the left is Duane Hanson's "Janitor" (1973). Photo: Paul Schmelzer

Close said of his portraits in 1970, ”I am not trying to make facsimiles of photographs. Neither am I interested in the icon of the head as a total image.”  Here Chuck inhabits new places, sometimes a familiar face, sometimes just a man with the mountains.

Chuck having an existential moment with a Pepsi machine in the Delhi airport. Photo: Abigail Sebaly

Chuck on a Spice Jet flight to Kathmandu. Photo: Abigail Sebaly

Chuck, with an interest in telecommunications. Photo: Abigail Sebaly

Chuck trying out the local cigarettes. Photo: Abigail Sebaly

Chuck with the Himalayas and Buddhist stupa in the background. Photo: Abigail Sebaly

Chuck's crowning moment at Tengboche, 12,687 feet, with Mount Everest in the background. Photo: Abigail Sebaly

Chuck with bindi. Photo: Abigail Sebaly

Lifelike: Installing Jonathan Seliger’s Giant Milk Carton

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Tuesday saw the arrival of an enormous partner to Robert Therrien’s gigantic folding table and chairs: Jonathan Seliger’s sculpture of an 8-1/2-foot-tall quart carton of America’s Choice Vitamin D milk. After being uncrated in Cargill Lounge, the bronze-and-enamel piece made its way to the Hennepin Avenue side of the building, where it’ll mark an entrance [...]

Assistant registrar Jessica Rolland examines the piece as it comes out of the crate.

Tuesday saw the arrival of an enormous partner to Robert Therrien’s gigantic folding table and chairs: Jonathan Seliger’s sculpture of an 8-1/2-foot-tall quart carton of America’s Choice Vitamin D milk. After being uncrated in Cargill Lounge, the bronze-and-enamel piece made its way to the Hennepin Avenue side of the building, where it’ll mark an entrance to the exhibition Lifelike, which opens this weekend. Dubbed Heartland,  the piece comes with a prominent “sell by” date of June 13, 2010, the year it was made. That same year, the piece was featured in a show at New York’s Jack Shainman Gallery called — fittingly – Spoils.

The Walker's Evan Reiter and David Bartley wheel the work into position.

The work is situated beside the glass wall facing Hennepin Avenue, giving drivers a clear view.

Lifelike: James Casebere, Duane Hanson, Alex Hay, Charles Ray

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With only a week to go until Lifelike opens, more works are heading into a galleries. A look at the newest additions as they go into place: Alex Hay’s fiberglass Paper Bag (1968) stands nearly five feet tall, with Chuck Close’s Big Self Portrait (1967-1968) in the background. Photo: Gene Pittman James Casebere’s Landscape with [...]

With only a week to go until Lifelike opens, more works are heading into a galleries. A look at the newest additions as they go into place:


Alex Hay’s fiberglass Paper Bag (1968) stands nearly five feet tall, with Chuck Close’s Big Self Portrait (1967-1968) in the background. Photo: Gene Pittman


James Casebere’s Landscape with Houses (Dutchess County, NY) #8 (2010) waiting to be hung. Photo: Paul Schmelzer


A detail shot of the ever-fascinating (Old) No One – in Particular #6, Series 2, a sculpture by Evan Penny. Photo: Gene Pittman


Hyper-detailed, down to the nosehair. Photo: Paul Schmelzer


Rendered in anamorphic perspective, the piece appears flattened when viewed from the side, but is startlingly realistic from the front. Photo: Gene Pittman


Charles Ray’s Bath (1989) being filled with 55 gallons of liquid.


A look behind the wall at Ray’s Bath and the pump that fills it. Photo: Paul Schmelzer


Measuring just 17 x 18 x 11 inches, Ron Mueck’s Crouching Boy in Mirror (1999-2000) appears to be checking out the reflection of Charles Ray’s yet-to-be-hung No (1991).


Rarely lent out, Duane Hanson’s Janitor (1973) came to us from the Milwaukee Art Museum secured firmly in a crate. Photo: Paul Schmelzer


A closeup of Hanson’s Janitor, before his glasses went on. Photo: Paul Schmelzer

Lifelike: Ron Mueck and Evan Penny Works Arrive

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With the opening of  Lifelike just a week away, more and more works are arriving. Assistant registrar Jessica Rolland caught this juxtaposition in Receiving the other day: Ron Mueck’s Crouching Boy in Mirror (1999-2000) adjacent the (suddenly nervous-looking) man in Evan Penny’s Old (No One – in Particular #6, Series 2 (2005). Earlier: Installing Robert [...]

With the opening of  Lifelike just a week away, more and more works are arriving. Assistant registrar Jessica Rolland caught this juxtaposition in Receiving the other day: Ron Mueck’s Crouching Boy in Mirror (1999-2000) adjacent the (suddenly nervous-looking) man in Evan Penny’s Old (No One – in Particular #6, Series 2 (2005).

Earlier: Installing Robert Therrien’s Giant Folding Table and Chairs

The Hot Date Tour

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If you don’t have a Valentine this year, we’re here to help you out so that by this time next year, you won’t have to pay any attention to our ideas. The only requirement for this self-guided tour is that you need to go with another person. That is the entire point of this. By [...]

If you don’t have a Valentine this year, we’re here to help you out so that by this time next year, you won’t have to pay any attention to our ideas. The only requirement for this self-guided tour is that you need to go with another person. That is the entire point of this. By the end of this short guide, you will be able to know whether or not you are totally compatible. Ready?

Installation view of Marlene McCarty's Group 8 (Karisoke, The Virungas, Rwanda. September 24, 1967. 4:30pm.)

Group 8 by Marlene McCarty seems like a good place to get started. It’s in John Waters’ Absentee Landlord and it’s both suggestive and strange enough to really start a spark or provoke some discussion. Maybe it’s too early to talk about whether or not you want (gorilla) babies or if you want to keep seeing other people (or primates), but perhaps your date will be provoked by this work to say something one way or the other. Then you’ll know!

Yves Klein, Suaire de Mondo Cane (Mondo Cane Shroud)

Wander over to Yves Klein’s Suaire de Mondo Cane. Does your date suggest that it might be fun to create a piece like this on a future outing? Is your date serious? You will probably have a positive or negative reaction. Hold on to that.

Installation view of the exhibition Frank Gaard: Poison & Candy, 2012

Admire the installation wall of Frank Gaard: Poison & Candy. On the left, there’s a painting called A Map of My Pathetic Career on Panties. We imagine there’s probably something to talk about there.

Why don’t you stop by the Garden Café and grab a drink and a chocolate cheesecake? This might be a nice time to process some of what you’ve seen and find out if you can get along in environments other than a gallery.

Installation view of Yayoi Kusama's Passing Winter

Now this is romantic. Stand close together and peer through the dots of Yayoi Kusama’s sculpture in Midnight Party. Awwwww look! You can see hundreds of reflections of you two together! A sign of things to come? Snap a photo and cherish it. This is where it all began.

Photo: ©2005 Paul Warchol

End the date by heading out to James Turrell’s Sky Pesher, 2005 on the hill behind the Walker. There, you can sit on the benches, cuddle up, and gaze up at the sky, contemplating the extraordinary and contemplating your feelings. As an added bonus, the seats are heated. As a warning, there are security cameras installed.

Well, by now you probably know whether or not you’ll ever want to see each other again. You’re welcome for the help. We accept baked goods and also tips. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Lifelike: Installing Robert Therrien’s Giant Folding Table and Chairs

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Monday saw the arrival of what surely must be one of the world’s largest card tables. In anticipation of the February 24 preview of the exhibition Lifelike, Robert Therrien’s sculptural table — measuring just under nine feet in height — arrived via semi-trailer with four folding chairs, all crated. Made from metal and fabric, the 2007 [...]

Curator Siri Engberg and assistant registrar Jessica Rolland beside Therrian's table and chair. Photo: Paul Schmelzer

Monday saw the arrival of what surely must be one of the world’s largest card tables. In anticipation of the February 24 preview of the exhibition Lifelike, Robert Therrien’s sculptural table — measuring just under nine feet in height — arrived via semi-trailer with four folding chairs, all crated. Made from metal and fabric, the 2007 work was loaded in through the Walker’s Hennepin entrance and installed in the Cargill Lounge. Here’s some photos of the process.

It took five workers to open each functional folding chair. Photo: Cameron Wittig

Each chair is the height of 3.5 standard folding chairs. Photo: Paul Schmelzer

The table is an accurate and working replica, down to the folding legs. Photo: Cameron Wittig

Photo: Cameron Wittig

Photo: Cameron Wittig

Like any church basement chair, each one is stenciled with identifying letters. Photo: Cameron Wittig

By dusk, the installation was complete. Photo: Paul Schmelzer

Champion of Independent Thinking: Remembering Mike Kelley

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Mike Kelley    Photo: Cameron Wittig, Walker Art Center Mike Kelley, the LA-based artist known for his riffs on American popular culture, died in South Pasadena last week in an apparent suicide at the age of 57. This sudden news came as a shock to a lot of us in the artistic community, where Kelley was [...]


Mike Kelley    Photo: Cameron Wittig, Walker Art Center

Mike Kelley, the LA-based artist known for his riffs on American popular culture, died in South Pasadena last week in an apparent suicide at the age of 57. This sudden news came as a shock to a lot of us in the artistic community, where Kelley was such a daring creative force and personality. Never one to seek approval from his audiences or kowtow to an intellectual elite, he made smart, often audacious work that fearlessly tackled subject matter that others avoided — religion, repressed memory syndrome, and adolescent sexuality, among others. He trolled in a variety of media, from performance to sculpture, painting and installation — whatever best suited his interests at the time.

A few years ago we met while he was working on the Kandors installation, an arrangement of eerily-illuminated glass-bottle miniatures derived from the Superman story (Kandors is the capital of fictional planet Krypton that super-villain Brainiac steals and shrinks). Like much of Kelley’s work, this series came straight out of vernacular culture, but with a psychological twist that distinguished his work even at its most playful. The main subject of conversation was, however, the 1980s’ Craft Morphology series, commonly known as the “plush toy” project. These were objects the artist made in the late ’80s and early ’90s that incorporated stuffed animals in various arrangements, including the famous More Love Hours Than Can Ever Be Repaid (1987), a painting-sized wall work of once-loved teddy bears, afghans and knitted dolls assembled in a seemingly carefree arrangement. The works stirred their share of controversy when they first appeared from those who saw child abuse and trauma in their forms, but the artist was alway available to clarify meanings for the misguided. In an interview with critic Isabelle Graw, he once said, “If you don’t write your own history, someone else will, and this ‘history’ will suit their purposes.”


Mike Kelley, Repressed Spatial Relationships Rendered as Fluid, No. 4: Stevenson Junior High and Satellites, 2002

A lot of histories can be written about Mike Kelley, and already the stories of his passing have foreshadowed their narratives. A voracious appetite for punk music and youth culture (he was in a band with fellow artist Jim Shaw called Destroy All Monsters) gives way to Mike Kelley the Performer, one of his many artistic personalities. Kelley was also a ferocious intellect and curator; his 1993 exhibition, The Uncanny, with its odd combinations of art and non-art, was resurrected in the most recent Gwangju Biennale, looking every bit as contemporary as its neighbors.

But in conversation Kelley identified with more humble origins: “I was a middle class kid from the Detroit area,” he told me, whose interests lay in consumerist images and topics like class and religion. As he progressed through a wide variety of artistic developments over the years, this fact remained a constant of his work and self-identity.

We at the Walker Art Center are deeply saddened to lose such a unique and uncompromising artist — a true champion of independent thinking — and extend our deep sympathy to his friends, colleagues, and studio staff who feel his loss keenly.

Related: Watch Mike Kelley’s June 2005 Walker conversation with historian and critic John Welchmann.

Sundance Journal: Clara Kim on Jurying World Documentary Films

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With the theme of “Look Again” in mind, I arrived in great anticipation to Park City, Utah at the reputable haven for independent filmmaking for the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. Droves of eager visitors—programmers like myself and Walker curator Sheryl Mousley, industry folks from Hollywood and Europe, actors, directors, and aspiring filmmakers—made for a motley [...]

Clara Kim on the award ceremony stage. Photo: Alfonso Medina

With the theme of “Look Again” in mind, I arrived in great anticipation to Park City, Utah at the reputable haven for independent filmmaking for the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. Droves of eager visitors—programmers like myself and Walker curator Sheryl Mousley, industry folks from Hollywood and Europe, actors, directors, and aspiring filmmakers—made for a motley group that traveled in waves from the Salt Lake City airport to the Sundance headquarters at the Park City Marriott to the festival’s many theater venues in this quaint ski resort town.

Walker film curator Sheryl Mousley at the Salt Lake City airport

Park City landscape

As part of the World Documentary Jury along with the charming filmmaker Jean Marie-Teno and BBC Storyville’s Nick Fraser, I had the privilege of watching the 12 films in competition for nine days with packed houses and special insight from the directors at the Q&As. My first screening Searching for Sugar Man kicked off the festival with a bang—a moving portrait of a ‘70s rock musician from Detroit called Rodriguez who fell into obscurity, despite his propensity for making beautiful music, and was largely believed to have been dead. The film follows South African music aficionados motivated by the desire to solve the mystery of Rodriguez’s death, only to discover that he’s alive and well, living a humble existence for the last decades. Rodriguez gets a second wind as he is welcomed with open arms in South Africa and plays to consecutive sold-out concerts. The most beautiful and symbolic moments of the film are of Rodriguez trekking through the Detroit snow—his walk, a distinct gait, is at once deliberate, melancholic, almost noble. A standing ovation greeted Rodriguez as he walked up to the stage and so poetically articulated to the audience: “home is about acceptance.” Thanks to Sony Pictures (who bought the rights to the film) it will be shown widely—look out for it in your local theaters. The film won the Audience Award as well as the Special Jury Prize.

Clara Kim with Jean-Marie Teno and Nick Fraser

Searching for Sugar Man director Malik Bendjelloul, Rodriguez and daughter

 

Days two, three, four, and five followed with consecutive film screenings, moving from one theater to the next. Thanks to the kind volunteer drivers like Kyle Richards, we were whisked from screening to screening in a fleet of Audi-sponsored vehicles, with Timberland parkas and boots in hand. Saturday brunch was hosted at the Sundance Resort—a winding hour-long drive up into Park City’s glorious slopes to a luxurious cabin where Robert Redford set up shop decades ago when he bought two acres of land for $500. Addressing the filmmakers, he noted that what happens in Park City is not Sundance (by which he meant the industry folks, the sponsored parties, the celebrity factor), but that independent filmmaking is driven by passion, individual passion by you (the filmmakers)—a simple but powerful statement to make. I had the pleasure of meeting Sam Pollard, who was part of the critical PBS series “Eyes on the Prize” and editor of Spike Lee’s films, who had a new film at the festival called Slavery by Another Name that recounted the disturbing practice of slavery via peonage and convict labor in state-run enterprises decades after abolition. The film was produced by our very own Twin Cities Public Television, which sent representatives to the screening, as well as US Attorney General Eric Holder.


Robert Redford (left), and Sam Pollard with Jean-Marie Teno (right)

Two films about the complexities of politics and everyday life in Israel and West Bank were especially resonant. The first called The Law in These Parts was a riveting journey into the governance of the West Bank as told through the military judges who justify and administer the blatantly unfair systems of law. Brilliantly crafted and edited by its director Ra’anan Alexandrowicz, the film treaded a delicate territory through interviews where each judge is made to take the stand, sitting behind a nondescript, bureaucratic desk. We awarded the film the World Documentary Grand Jury Prize. Fellow juror Nick Fraser was right in saying–it is a great film, a tough film, an unforgiving film, and everyone needs to watch it. 5 Broken Cameras depicts life on the other side, through the tenacious director Emad Burnat who records the everyday life of his Palestinian village Bil’in which famously chose nonviolent resistance to protest the encroachment of their land. Purchasing the first of five cameras to initially record the birth of his son, the film follows his fellow villagers as they come face to face with the Israeli army and the colonists. We awarded the World Documentary Directing Award, deservingly.

5 Broken Cameras directors Guy Davidi and Emad Burnat with Sundance festival director John Cooper (center)

Other impressive docs were Big Boys Gone Bananas—a harrowing, real life tale of a documentary filmmaker who was sued by the fruit company Dole for his previous film Bananas* and in the process encounters the the power of corporate America and its influence over the media, and the Queen of Versailles about the utterly enjoyable, tragic film of a couple’s ambitions to build a 90,000 square foot mansion inspired by Versailles.

After sitting for countless, consecutive hours in dark theaters, it was a treat to be invited to the house of art collectors Mihail Lari and Scott Murray who have a beautiful home in Park City, as well as one in Santa Fe. Joined by the director of the Kimball Art Center and collector friends Maria Jose Lopez and Alfonso Medina, we were taken through the sprawling house and their collection of works by Spencer Finch, John McCracken, Michael Light, Sophie Whettnall, Leo Villareal and a beautiful print by Anni Albers. A lovely dinner at the Montage in Deer Valley followed.

Collector Mihail Lari (second left) with Kimball Art Center director and collectors Maria Jose Lopez and Alfonso Medina

Nine days into the festival, with 15 films under my belt, and countless quick meals at Café Trang, came deliberation day. We were summoned to the Sky Lodge and under the guidance of the Sundance triumvirate—John Cooper, the festival’s director; Trevor Groth, the director of programming; and David Courier, senior programmer—were given directions and parameters of the awards for our individual categories. Of notable people on the other juries included director of The Eyes of Tammy Faye Fenton Bailey, the very cool Anthony Mackie of Hurt Locker and 8 Mile (who lives in New Orleans, working on classic cars and has a burgeoning art collection), the elegant actress Julia Ormond, Sheffied Doc/Fest director Heather Croall and Inside Job director Charles Ferguson. Sequestered on individual floors of the Sky Lodge condos (with hot tubs on the terrace enticing us), we deliberated.


Fenton Bailey (left); Deliberation day: Julia Ormond, Charles Ferguson, Anthony Mackie

Award night was a smattering of unpretentious, good fun—the ceremony was hosted by John Cooper, who stood in for Parker Posey who unexpectedly feel ill, as well as presented by the actor Edward James Olmos who told me that the inimitable film Stand & Deliver, for which he received an Oscar nomination, was recently inducted to the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress (congrats!). He is working on a film adaptation of the Korean drama 49 Days. The ceremony was followed by an after-party with Grey Goose cocktails flowing and a dance floor on fire. After what seemed like a marathon in Park City (for someone who isn’t seduced by snowy slopes), the evening ended, as all good ones do, with greasy pizzas from Domino’s.

Edward James Olmos and Clara Kim