One of the cool things about art is its
ability to be shaped into whatever you want. You can make it out of
anything and you can do it anywhere. It comes from a place of
action. The venue doesn't matter. Inside, outside, somewhere and
somehow in between. It's up to you. The Chicago artists who circle
the South Logan Arts Coalition have taken that notion to heart.
As regular Halfstack readers may
recall, I saw local band Bailiff at the Milwaukee Avenue Arts Festival a couple Sundays ago. After they finished their set, I
wandered around the festival until I found something that caught my
eye, a “pop-up art gallery” in an abandoned storefront along
Milwaukee. I went inside and noticed a foreboding sign.
“Caution: Nails sticking out of the
floor! Trip Hazard,” it said.
![]() |
Photo Noah Vaughn. |
“Neat!” I thought as I crossed the
danger rubicon, of course catching my shoe on the first nail I came
across. It made a noise like a sloth burping. People looked at me.
I probably blushed.
Inside was a world I was unfamiliar
with. It looked rushed, which was the plan all along, I would later
learn. The walls were matte white, basically drywall. The pillars
looked like Jenga pieces that had been chewed by the family dog. The
room was a shell.
But hanging on those tattered walls
were installations from local artists. Some were portraits of
Chicago corners. Others were blown up photographs of cracked, craggy
traffic lanes. There was even underwear that had been painted over.
There was something in the basement,
too. It flowed upwards from the stairway. It was unsettling. It
was loud. It had a percussive clang that put words in my brain I
never thought I'd string together: industrial ping pong.
Gwendolyn Zabicki, the creative force
behind the South Logan Arts Coalition, or SLAC, reassured me it was
not some sort of steampunk monster eating things below us.
“[It's a] video by E. Aaron Ross and
I believe he is using an axe to hit the columns in his studio,” she
said. “The lights are off and he realized that the contact would
make a spark, so it's a video of that action.”
I thought this was the perfect,
cavelike venue for such a piece. Zabicki said it was more of a happy
accident it worked out that way.
“We do pop-up storefront studios and
the occasional artist residency in a vacant storefront,” she said.
“Basically I make lots of phone
calls, cold calls to property owners and ask, 'Hey, can we use your
space for a month?' then they usually say no, and I say, 'How about a
weekend?' and they're like, 'Yeah, sure.'”
That's how she and SLAC got involved
with the Milwaukee Avenue Arts Festival, which is only one of many
welcoming places for artists of all stripes in the city.
“There are a lot of DIY spaces,”
she said. “I think that's because Chicago is very gentle and very
accepting.”
It's not just big public gatherings
like street festivals, either.
“There's a lot of apartment galleries
and pop-up spaces and people take them seriously as real art venues,”
she said.
Zabicki said economics play a huge role
in this.
“The cost of running a real art
gallery is just not a model that works for most people,” she said.
“I think a lot of artists in Chicago have to wear multiple hats.”
This leads to some creative thinking,
not only about their pieces, but about the way in which they display
them and how they market themselves to potential buyers.
“They're an artist and they're also a
curator, they're an artist and they're also a writer, they're an
artist and they also have a day job,” she said. “There's a lot
of space and a lot of vacant storefronts, and there's of opportunity
in Chicago.”
In a bit of “what a small world”
coincidence, I noticed a few pieces by artist Stephanie Burke. The
name was familiar to me and after a few minutes it clicked. She is
the wife and collaborator of Jeriah Hildwine, who was the assistant
manager at the Ace Hardware I worked at as a college freshman, before
he got a teaching job at the Logan Street Art Center. I asked
Zabicki if she knew them, and she lit up.
She said that upon finishing graduate
school, she began teaching at the Logan Street Art Center with
Hildwine.
“I saw on the internet, he does a thing called Shooting With Artists, where he takes artists to Indiana and he teaches them how to use a gun. I said, 'I want to do that with you.' I went on a trip with Jeriah and Stephanie. They told me, 'Make a bunch of targets so we have something to shoot.' I drew a T-Rex with an erection. I thought, no no, I gotta tone it down. I covered it up a little, but you could still kind of see the dinosaur boner. Once I got to know them, I realized a dinosaur with an erection was the perfect Jeriah and Stephanie thing. They were shocked that I was holding back.”
“I saw on the internet, he does a thing called Shooting With Artists, where he takes artists to Indiana and he teaches them how to use a gun. I said, 'I want to do that with you.' I went on a trip with Jeriah and Stephanie. They told me, 'Make a bunch of targets so we have something to shoot.' I drew a T-Rex with an erection. I thought, no no, I gotta tone it down. I covered it up a little, but you could still kind of see the dinosaur boner. Once I got to know them, I realized a dinosaur with an erection was the perfect Jeriah and Stephanie thing. They were shocked that I was holding back.”
I like artists. They're fun.
I knew I had to follow up with Hildwine
on this, so I sent him an email about his shooting program. He said
they make the artists, typically firearm novices like Zabicki was,
create their own targets for whatever reason they want. It could be
something scary, like the sexually menacing T-Rex, or something
benign, like what local artist and curator Kirk Faber did.
![]() |
Hildwine, at right, shows how to use the rifle. |
“I
remember especially these drawings he did of beer cans, they looked
straight out of a kid's coloring book, really cool stuff,” he said.
“Shooting a childlike drawing of beer cans is the polar opposite
of the Bin Laden target, which is a super angry, violent sort of
thing to shoot at.”
Casey
McGonagle, another local artist, went in a significantly darker
direction for his target.
“[He]
printed a big photo self-portrait so he could shoot himself,”
Hildwine said.
Hildwine
said it's a way to get creative people outside, in a literal sense,
of the typical gallery setting. He said that, with his new teaching
position in Flagstaff, Arizona, he has not had a chance to do
Shooting With Artists in the Chicago area lately.
Hildwine
said he plans to continue showing his work in Chicago, not only
because his wife still lives here. It was a place for him to set up
connections and it still offers him opportunities to grow as an
artist.
“It's
a more affordable city. There are jobs. I don't mean to say that
entry level jobs with 40k salaries fall from the sky, but it's a lot
less impacted than other cities. Rent isn't absurd like it is in New
York or [Los Angeles], and public transportation is pretty good.
What this means is that you can live somewhere cheap, take the train
to work, work food service or retail or whatever, and still have some
time in the studio. Then Friday night rolls around and you hit the
openings, network, make friends, all that.”
He
offered some advice to those trying to make it as artists in the
city, too. He said they must be outgoing and introduce themselves to
everyone at galleries and parties.
“There's
all this stuff going around on the Internet lately about 'how to
treat an introvert,' and while it's nice to be nice to people and
respect their differences, if you're shy, introverted, you're
unlikely to get very far in any art scene,” he said. “You've got
to talk to people, be friendly, go to their shows, in the hope that
someday they'll return the favor.”
So,
Chicago artists, it's doable. You can show your work. You can grow
the pop-up art scene. Maybe you can shoot guns at your worst
nightmares. Have fun.
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