As my fourth curatorial effort draws to a close, thinking about past projects and getting links in place to serve as a chronicle:
http://badatsports.com/tags/scott-j-hunter/
Psychosexual, at Andrew Rafacz Gallery, Chicago, April 2013
http://www.andrewrafacz.com/exhibition.php?s_id=72
http://artfcity.com/2013/04/25/we-went-to-chicago-west-of-the-loop-edition/
http://www.ryanswansondesign.com/design/psychosexual-catalog-5/
https://www.flickr.com/photos/73059802@N00/8653607194/in/photostream/
Sticky & Sweet, at Terrain Exhibitions, Oak Park, April 2014
http://terrainexhibitions.tumblr.com/page/4
a rose is a rose is a rose is a rose, at Aspect/Ratio, Chicago, November 2014
http://artforum.com/uploads/guide.002/id31042/press_release.pdf
http://www.aspectratioprojects.com/a-rose-is-a-rose-is-a-rose-is-a-rose-
Aay-Preston Myint at Burtonwood/Holmes residence, 2nd Terrain Biennial, Oak Park,
September 2015
http://terrainexhibitions.tumblr.com
http://wot-it-is.com
Finocchio, at The Franklin, Chicago, September 2015
http://thefranklinoutdoor.tumblr.com/post/123824590565/finocchio-curated-by-scott-j-hunter-opening
http://www.chicagoartistsresource.org/events/finocchio
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
It is a difficult time to be both Jewish and liberal. To try and see the current conflict from a middle ground, but feeling challenged in doing so - battered from each side with arguments and propaganda supporting a dogmatic position. I strive towards a pragmatic viewpoint, one that attempts to recognize the full picture. But I am constantly left wanting when trying to do so. Knowing so deeply in my mind that this war is going to prove to be much less than Israel desires and to do so much more harm, to Israel and Gaza, and the West Bank, than any of us can truly fathom. That what we are witnessing as a new anti-Semitism is only the tip of the iceberg we are careening towards. We live in a time of abject hate and it is easy for that hate to foment. This war at this time? It strikes me as a challenge towards stemming that tide.
I cannot condone the casualties of war. Even when the goal is to be targeted and cautious. It is impossible to do so, moreso when you have Hamas, or some other political-religious fanatic group as your enemy. Because there is nothing but carnage that will come from such a conflict. And the onus is on the side trying to be cautious to find new options, new solutions. We've seen this again and again. And the end is always much worse than the expectation.
I care deeply for Israel and the people I have come to love and honor who chose, by circumstance, birth, or opportunity to live there. I admit openly and without guilt that I am a Zionist. I have been committed to Israel since I was a child, learning in Hebrew school about the shared lands, the history of three religious traditions that have laid claim to its cities and valleys. I have debated openly and internally about what it means to be a liberal Zionist. A Jew who believes in a land for the Jews, in a place where our history began. But I am not a Zionist at any cost, willing to pay any price for this opportunity, for this land. Because I do not believe in any way that this is just "our land." And I believe deeply in a two-state solution, to the challenges of different peoples seeking to identify with and occupy the same land. I do not see the Palestinian people as an "other," an enemy. I see the Palestinians as I do the Bedouins, the Druze, the "Israeli Arabs," and the Christians who all live in Israel - as fellow citizens of a shared setting, that can and should be divided, and in some places shared, to allow for co-existence. There is truly no "other," just kin, co-residents, and friends.
But I am not so blind as to fail to recognize the politics. The narcissism of the Jewish right wing. The aggressions and ignorance of the settlers. The hatred taught because there has been a definition of self, by each side, as "the other," and of themselves as the "rightful owner." I still remember the horrible feeling I experienced when I watched two priests, of differing Christian traditions, fighting with each other, throwing words and fists, at the place where Jesus was supposedly born in Bethlehem. The anger and aggression that I witnessed between two Christians, who were fighting over their small plots of land in the shrine. And this is what I see when I look at the images coming from Gaza, at the conflict and its deaths, its destruction. I clearly recognize that Gaza is a place where a people have come to be locked inside an open air prison, by both Hamas and Israel. But in there, in this densely packed setting, are Palestinians who seek to find some means of movement, or an ear to hear their voices. And right now, those voices are not being heard. I am appalled daily at the failures of empathy and understanding that take place. The vitriol and hate that comes from the mouths of Israelis and Palestinians both - that I know is born of frustration and repeated missed opportunities, but which is nonetheless filled with the nonsense of fear and profound disrespect for one another. It angers me and leaves me feeling torn and dismayed. And it is fomented, this hate, by men who have no capacity to see beyond their own small ambitions, their own jealousies and hatreds. Men who cannot imagine that they exist in a world with others who seek a similar opportunity to their own. Men who have no ability to see outside their narrow, nasty narcissistic viewpoints. One of those men is Netanyahu. And Lieberman and Bennett. And many of those men are Hamas. And sadly, I fear that one of those men is our own president - who too seems blinded to this battle and its costs.
I sit in a mix of shame, frustration, anger, and sadness. At what is happening and what is not really seeming possible anymore. I desire a truce. A move towards peace. A recognition of what is shared. But I doubt that is truly going to happen. And I dread what that means in the long term.
I cannot condone the casualties of war. Even when the goal is to be targeted and cautious. It is impossible to do so, moreso when you have Hamas, or some other political-religious fanatic group as your enemy. Because there is nothing but carnage that will come from such a conflict. And the onus is on the side trying to be cautious to find new options, new solutions. We've seen this again and again. And the end is always much worse than the expectation.
I care deeply for Israel and the people I have come to love and honor who chose, by circumstance, birth, or opportunity to live there. I admit openly and without guilt that I am a Zionist. I have been committed to Israel since I was a child, learning in Hebrew school about the shared lands, the history of three religious traditions that have laid claim to its cities and valleys. I have debated openly and internally about what it means to be a liberal Zionist. A Jew who believes in a land for the Jews, in a place where our history began. But I am not a Zionist at any cost, willing to pay any price for this opportunity, for this land. Because I do not believe in any way that this is just "our land." And I believe deeply in a two-state solution, to the challenges of different peoples seeking to identify with and occupy the same land. I do not see the Palestinian people as an "other," an enemy. I see the Palestinians as I do the Bedouins, the Druze, the "Israeli Arabs," and the Christians who all live in Israel - as fellow citizens of a shared setting, that can and should be divided, and in some places shared, to allow for co-existence. There is truly no "other," just kin, co-residents, and friends.
But I am not so blind as to fail to recognize the politics. The narcissism of the Jewish right wing. The aggressions and ignorance of the settlers. The hatred taught because there has been a definition of self, by each side, as "the other," and of themselves as the "rightful owner." I still remember the horrible feeling I experienced when I watched two priests, of differing Christian traditions, fighting with each other, throwing words and fists, at the place where Jesus was supposedly born in Bethlehem. The anger and aggression that I witnessed between two Christians, who were fighting over their small plots of land in the shrine. And this is what I see when I look at the images coming from Gaza, at the conflict and its deaths, its destruction. I clearly recognize that Gaza is a place where a people have come to be locked inside an open air prison, by both Hamas and Israel. But in there, in this densely packed setting, are Palestinians who seek to find some means of movement, or an ear to hear their voices. And right now, those voices are not being heard. I am appalled daily at the failures of empathy and understanding that take place. The vitriol and hate that comes from the mouths of Israelis and Palestinians both - that I know is born of frustration and repeated missed opportunities, but which is nonetheless filled with the nonsense of fear and profound disrespect for one another. It angers me and leaves me feeling torn and dismayed. And it is fomented, this hate, by men who have no capacity to see beyond their own small ambitions, their own jealousies and hatreds. Men who cannot imagine that they exist in a world with others who seek a similar opportunity to their own. Men who have no ability to see outside their narrow, nasty narcissistic viewpoints. One of those men is Netanyahu. And Lieberman and Bennett. And many of those men are Hamas. And sadly, I fear that one of those men is our own president - who too seems blinded to this battle and its costs.
I sit in a mix of shame, frustration, anger, and sadness. At what is happening and what is not really seeming possible anymore. I desire a truce. A move towards peace. A recognition of what is shared. But I doubt that is truly going to happen. And I dread what that means in the long term.
Monday, July 28, 2014
What a funny day. What a strange year. Random thoughts that hit me, as I sit here, after realizing that it has been over a year since I last wrote, let alone posted, anything here. Thinking about how my ideas, comments, and considerations all seem to end up in short soundbites, shared on Twitter or Facebook. That my lengthier thoughts are kept relatively private of late. Out of concern. Out of respect. Out of uncertainty.
I am torn apart about what is happening in Israel and Gaza. Daily reading both sides of the press, to try and garner a sense of what is actually happening. What is really being talked about. Because my personal opinion is rather ripped to shreds at this point. Heart aching. Anger at the right wing in Israel who show incredible racism and hatred, at Hamas and its supporters for blindly forcing a public to live in the 19th century, and at the Israeli government, for keeping Gazans and the Palestinians living in the West Bank in a prison, leaving them reeling daily in injustices and just the right situation for fomenting ongoing hate and a commitment to terrorism. And knowing too that I have to wrestle with my own Zionism, my deeply held belief that a country for Jews is a right. But not at any cost and not without reconciling with the injustices done to make this happen. I ache and I hold my tongue. Knowing that whatever I might try and say just will fail to convey the sorrow and anger and frustration I feel. Wanting both peoples to just stop and look at one another. And see.
I am angry at my own country. This US that is is rapidly descending into utter failure on so many fronts. At the failure of our political structure to rise above the worst of its, and our, inclinations. To see how small voices are ignored, how we allow children to die, how we continue to perpetuate a country that is more feudal than at likely any time since the 18th century. And I vacillate between trying to engage my best impulses for change, and just ignoring the situation and trying to live as so many others like me, privileged and white and educated. And I grow irritated at myself, reminding myself daily that I was raised a Jewish gay man, who first and foremost learned to care about others and what I can do for them, to practice tikkun olam - to help make this a better world now. And yet, I feel as if I am often alone at caring and trying.
Turning 50 has been much more challenging than I'd once thought it might be. It has certainly been a year of loss and change. Of pain, both psychological and physical. A year of confronting my changing body - how the inside is not keeping pace with the outside. And of reconnecting, because of all the change and pain, with a me I've lost touch with over time. It has been a year of watching some very positive change, including gay marriage and the pointed end of DOMA, evoke horrific responses of hate and rage. And of wondering how, all these years since I first witnessed such anger and disrespect, I could still be seeing such awfulness. I am wondering what is next - knowing that it is really a matter of choice now. To engage. To continue to see. To speak loudly. And of pushing myself to do so.
I am torn apart about what is happening in Israel and Gaza. Daily reading both sides of the press, to try and garner a sense of what is actually happening. What is really being talked about. Because my personal opinion is rather ripped to shreds at this point. Heart aching. Anger at the right wing in Israel who show incredible racism and hatred, at Hamas and its supporters for blindly forcing a public to live in the 19th century, and at the Israeli government, for keeping Gazans and the Palestinians living in the West Bank in a prison, leaving them reeling daily in injustices and just the right situation for fomenting ongoing hate and a commitment to terrorism. And knowing too that I have to wrestle with my own Zionism, my deeply held belief that a country for Jews is a right. But not at any cost and not without reconciling with the injustices done to make this happen. I ache and I hold my tongue. Knowing that whatever I might try and say just will fail to convey the sorrow and anger and frustration I feel. Wanting both peoples to just stop and look at one another. And see.
I am angry at my own country. This US that is is rapidly descending into utter failure on so many fronts. At the failure of our political structure to rise above the worst of its, and our, inclinations. To see how small voices are ignored, how we allow children to die, how we continue to perpetuate a country that is more feudal than at likely any time since the 18th century. And I vacillate between trying to engage my best impulses for change, and just ignoring the situation and trying to live as so many others like me, privileged and white and educated. And I grow irritated at myself, reminding myself daily that I was raised a Jewish gay man, who first and foremost learned to care about others and what I can do for them, to practice tikkun olam - to help make this a better world now. And yet, I feel as if I am often alone at caring and trying.
Turning 50 has been much more challenging than I'd once thought it might be. It has certainly been a year of loss and change. Of pain, both psychological and physical. A year of confronting my changing body - how the inside is not keeping pace with the outside. And of reconnecting, because of all the change and pain, with a me I've lost touch with over time. It has been a year of watching some very positive change, including gay marriage and the pointed end of DOMA, evoke horrific responses of hate and rage. And of wondering how, all these years since I first witnessed such anger and disrespect, I could still be seeing such awfulness. I am wondering what is next - knowing that it is really a matter of choice now. To engage. To continue to see. To speak loudly. And of pushing myself to do so.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Some of my favorite meals in 2012
The other passion I have, in addition to contemporary art and music, is food and drink. Typically together. And almost always shared with Richard and close friends. Living in Chicago allows me to easily and eagerly satisfy this passion. And what I love best is that I can eat and drink very well across the spectrum, from simply inexpensive and on the run, to high end and over multiple courses. It is one of the reasons I truly love my adopted home city - to eat here is to live well.
To honor this passion, I now list some of the best places I dined at over the past year. Take it as solely one man's opinion ... but definitely enjoy the options, if you've failed to get to one of these spots. You'll be pleased if you do!
Listed by neighborhood:
Avondale/Logan Square:
Yusho, hands down, is a new favorite - from the creative drinks to the really fine bites, this is Asian fusion that sings. And it is now quite readily complemented by Fat Rice, just a skip down Diversey. This Portuguese-Chinese upstart had me smitten from the moment I first sat down and encountered its exciting menu. From the small bite starters to the best gin and tonic (called, of course, a Gintonic, and served with Thai basil) I've ever had, and the truly amazing Arroz Gordo, this place is a true star. I can only add that both of these restaurant choices serve to increase my love affair with Logan and its amazing culinary offerings that are already well established: Michelin-star award winning Longman & Eagle, longstanding Lula's, and the always fantastic Sunday Dinner underground restaurant I've come to adore (thank you Angel for that introduction, hands down).
Randolph Street/West Loop:
The best experiences with food Richard and I had this year were, without question, at Next. After loving the introductory's year's adventure with Thai street food, we eagerly ponied up and did the elBulli homage. It was truly sublime, from the minimalist environment to being shown just how amazing true molecular gastronomy can be. This was followed up, about three months later, with the fantastic Sicilian dinner, where we were stunned by the flavors and a set of wine pairings that truly opened up Italy. Finally, with Kyoto, we were thrilled by the kaiseki dinner, where beauty and taste merged. Each meal was simply outstanding and worth every bit of the cost of the season's tickets we acquired (thanks to Richard's diligence and persistence with the crazy online purchase process). Grant Achatz is hands down one of the best things about Chicago.
OK, so I will have to admit that even though it is a restaurant often filled with the kind of douchebags I try to give a wide berth, I found Nellcote to have some fine offerings in terms of drinks (best enjoyed while sitting at the bar) and fun pizzas to share. I will chalk it up to the company I've been with while there (hello Rafacz and Speh), but hey, it is a reminder that when you're with the right people, you can have fun anywhere. But the real plum along Randolph these days is BellyQ, which is up there now as one of my favorite Chicago restaurants. Chef Bill Kim has actually allowed me to enjoy Korean-fusion almost as much as I love simple Korean. While it is a whole different experience than his star turn, Urban Belly, it is one well worth taking in.
I cannot forget to mention Au Cheval. Another way too packed setting, that is also too often filled with douchebags (try to avoid at the end of the week), it is Chicago's high end answer to the diner, where some very fine grub and excellent drinks can be readily found and happily consumed. Again, with the right friends, it is a totally enjoyable experience, because it becomes all about the company and the food.
Finally, I will add Embaya to my list of new favorites in the West Loop. The bar alone is worth the trip over, as it is truly a setting for hanging out, talking and drinking. And while I've only sampled a little of the offerings available, what I had was quite lovely. I will definitely be heading back for a true immersion in the food.
So now, with the opening of Little Goat (I've taken in the sandwiches and find them just fine), the options in the Randolph corridor just keep growing ... adding to established favorites Publican, Girl and the Goat, La Sardine, and Sawtooth.
South Loop:
As much as I truly enjoy living south of Roosevelt, there remains a paucity of truly good eating down here these days. Yes, there are some very fine standups (Eleven City Diner, the re-emerging Gioco, Mercat a la Planxa, Oysy, Zapatista, and our Chinatown faves Moon Palace and the Lao offerings), but these are old standbys, and they are sadly surrounded by mostly new openings in the sports bar category (hence the rapidly appropriate "Lincoln Park South" moniker that is coming to define the South Loop ... yep, those dreaded Chads and Trixies are showing up in droves here now). But with regard to fine dining, not really much has changed in the past couple of years. Except Acadia. Which was really quite a surprise to find on Wabash south of Roosevelt. Because it was a simply lovely dinner that Richard and I had in honor of his last birthday, with excellent wines and an accomplished chef's tasting menu, coupled with superb service. We will definitely be back!
North Side:
Truth be told, when it comes to the north side, there are a number of favorite spots we regularly hit (across the taste spectrum), but sadly, we just haven't spent as much time hitting any of the new spots that have opened up on the north side this past year as we have with the West Loop. I am definitely psyched to finally check out some of the new options that have recently opened, like Kai San in Humboldt and Carriage House in West Town, as well as the new offering by Chilam Balam over on Chicago Avenue. But hey ... those recommendations will have to wait until tastes have been taken. And do know this, if I can get into Schwa again, you know I will be there. And raving highly.
To honor this passion, I now list some of the best places I dined at over the past year. Take it as solely one man's opinion ... but definitely enjoy the options, if you've failed to get to one of these spots. You'll be pleased if you do!
Listed by neighborhood:
Avondale/Logan Square:
Yusho, hands down, is a new favorite - from the creative drinks to the really fine bites, this is Asian fusion that sings. And it is now quite readily complemented by Fat Rice, just a skip down Diversey. This Portuguese-Chinese upstart had me smitten from the moment I first sat down and encountered its exciting menu. From the small bite starters to the best gin and tonic (called, of course, a Gintonic, and served with Thai basil) I've ever had, and the truly amazing Arroz Gordo, this place is a true star. I can only add that both of these restaurant choices serve to increase my love affair with Logan and its amazing culinary offerings that are already well established: Michelin-star award winning Longman & Eagle, longstanding Lula's, and the always fantastic Sunday Dinner underground restaurant I've come to adore (thank you Angel for that introduction, hands down).
Randolph Street/West Loop:
The best experiences with food Richard and I had this year were, without question, at Next. After loving the introductory's year's adventure with Thai street food, we eagerly ponied up and did the elBulli homage. It was truly sublime, from the minimalist environment to being shown just how amazing true molecular gastronomy can be. This was followed up, about three months later, with the fantastic Sicilian dinner, where we were stunned by the flavors and a set of wine pairings that truly opened up Italy. Finally, with Kyoto, we were thrilled by the kaiseki dinner, where beauty and taste merged. Each meal was simply outstanding and worth every bit of the cost of the season's tickets we acquired (thanks to Richard's diligence and persistence with the crazy online purchase process). Grant Achatz is hands down one of the best things about Chicago.
OK, so I will have to admit that even though it is a restaurant often filled with the kind of douchebags I try to give a wide berth, I found Nellcote to have some fine offerings in terms of drinks (best enjoyed while sitting at the bar) and fun pizzas to share. I will chalk it up to the company I've been with while there (hello Rafacz and Speh), but hey, it is a reminder that when you're with the right people, you can have fun anywhere. But the real plum along Randolph these days is BellyQ, which is up there now as one of my favorite Chicago restaurants. Chef Bill Kim has actually allowed me to enjoy Korean-fusion almost as much as I love simple Korean. While it is a whole different experience than his star turn, Urban Belly, it is one well worth taking in.
I cannot forget to mention Au Cheval. Another way too packed setting, that is also too often filled with douchebags (try to avoid at the end of the week), it is Chicago's high end answer to the diner, where some very fine grub and excellent drinks can be readily found and happily consumed. Again, with the right friends, it is a totally enjoyable experience, because it becomes all about the company and the food.
Finally, I will add Embaya to my list of new favorites in the West Loop. The bar alone is worth the trip over, as it is truly a setting for hanging out, talking and drinking. And while I've only sampled a little of the offerings available, what I had was quite lovely. I will definitely be heading back for a true immersion in the food.
So now, with the opening of Little Goat (I've taken in the sandwiches and find them just fine), the options in the Randolph corridor just keep growing ... adding to established favorites Publican, Girl and the Goat, La Sardine, and Sawtooth.
South Loop:
As much as I truly enjoy living south of Roosevelt, there remains a paucity of truly good eating down here these days. Yes, there are some very fine standups (Eleven City Diner, the re-emerging Gioco, Mercat a la Planxa, Oysy, Zapatista, and our Chinatown faves Moon Palace and the Lao offerings), but these are old standbys, and they are sadly surrounded by mostly new openings in the sports bar category (hence the rapidly appropriate "Lincoln Park South" moniker that is coming to define the South Loop ... yep, those dreaded Chads and Trixies are showing up in droves here now). But with regard to fine dining, not really much has changed in the past couple of years. Except Acadia. Which was really quite a surprise to find on Wabash south of Roosevelt. Because it was a simply lovely dinner that Richard and I had in honor of his last birthday, with excellent wines and an accomplished chef's tasting menu, coupled with superb service. We will definitely be back!
North Side:
Truth be told, when it comes to the north side, there are a number of favorite spots we regularly hit (across the taste spectrum), but sadly, we just haven't spent as much time hitting any of the new spots that have opened up on the north side this past year as we have with the West Loop. I am definitely psyched to finally check out some of the new options that have recently opened, like Kai San in Humboldt and Carriage House in West Town, as well as the new offering by Chilam Balam over on Chicago Avenue. But hey ... those recommendations will have to wait until tastes have been taken. And do know this, if I can get into Schwa again, you know I will be there. And raving highly.
Friday, December 28, 2012
What gallery and non-profit space shows/exhibitions I most appreciated in 2012
And now, the harder discussion unfolds, what I most appreciated and was engaged by this past year, in the galleries and non-profit art spaces that form the nexus of the Chicago arts community.
As always, there was much I took in this past year that engaged me deeply. There were also those shows that left me feeling cold, surprisingly unmoved, and even rather disappointed, with their missed opportunities and down right failures. While I'll elect not to share those, suffice to say, this is to be expected when such diversity of talent and exploration is taking place. And yet the experiment stays riveting as a result. Chicago remains for me a true hothouse of artistic opportunity; to see it emerge, play out, and engage or fail keeps me both on my toes, and truly excited about what is still to take place.
What follows is a list, again in no specific order of preference, of the shows I saw this past year, at galleries and non-profit spaces in Chicago, that most captivated me, and left me thinking (and sometimes even breathing) hard:
Molly Zuckerman-Hartung, Negative Joy, and Vivian Maier, Vintage Prints, at Corbett vs. Dempsey
Nazafarin Lotfi, Circles, at Tony Wight Gallery
The charm of quasi-parallel lines, a group show, and Mickalene Thomas' group show, tete a tete, at Rhona Hoffman Gallery
Elijah Burgher, Geoffrey Todd Smith, Looker, and Richard Hull at Western Exhibitions
Antonia Gurkovska, Index, at Kavi Gupta Gallery
Christy Matson, The sun doesn't show through the mist until noon, at Alderman Exhibitions
John Opera, People places and things, and the group show, Sea Change, at Andrew Rafacz Gallery
I Surrender, an anniversary retrospective, at Devening Projects and Editions
Karen Reimer's amazing retrospective, Endless Set #1399, and the group exhibition curated by John Neff and Pamela Fraser, Spectral Landscape, at Gallery 400.
There were many honorable mentions as well; shows that I still appreciate greatly. These include the fantastic Chicago biennial curated by Dawoud Bey at Hyde Park Art Center; the wonderful group exhibition curated by Edmund Chia, Did you see heaven: Spectra at Peregrine Program; Jerome Acks' smooth square, soft circle, and Shane Huffman's Sense and Sensibility, both at 65Grand; Aspect Ratio's introduction to Chicago, which included both Gilad Ratman's and Brian Zanisnik's wonderful exhibitions; Kirsten Stoltmann's solo exhibition at New Capital; Karolina Gnatowski's fantastic piece, sounding off against all that testosterone, at Monique Meloche Gallery; Noelle Allen's first solo show in quite some time, at Carrie Secrist Gallery; Zachary Buchner's and Pete Skvara's solo exhibitions at Andrew Rafacz Gallery; Dutes Miller's quite lovely solo show at Western Exhibitions; and just for plain fun, Show Room/Odie Off, at threewalls.
And as always, some need to bid farewell to the passing of important spaces. A very sad goodbye to Golden, which after a series of really wonderful exhibitions, closed down its Chicago space, to focus solely on its Manhattan space. A true loss.
Nevertheless, it was a truly fine year indeed.
As always, there was much I took in this past year that engaged me deeply. There were also those shows that left me feeling cold, surprisingly unmoved, and even rather disappointed, with their missed opportunities and down right failures. While I'll elect not to share those, suffice to say, this is to be expected when such diversity of talent and exploration is taking place. And yet the experiment stays riveting as a result. Chicago remains for me a true hothouse of artistic opportunity; to see it emerge, play out, and engage or fail keeps me both on my toes, and truly excited about what is still to take place.
What follows is a list, again in no specific order of preference, of the shows I saw this past year, at galleries and non-profit spaces in Chicago, that most captivated me, and left me thinking (and sometimes even breathing) hard:
Molly Zuckerman-Hartung, Negative Joy, and Vivian Maier, Vintage Prints, at Corbett vs. Dempsey
Nazafarin Lotfi, Circles, at Tony Wight Gallery
The charm of quasi-parallel lines, a group show, and Mickalene Thomas' group show, tete a tete, at Rhona Hoffman Gallery
Elijah Burgher, Geoffrey Todd Smith, Looker, and Richard Hull at Western Exhibitions
Antonia Gurkovska, Index, at Kavi Gupta Gallery
Christy Matson, The sun doesn't show through the mist until noon, at Alderman Exhibitions
John Opera, People places and things, and the group show, Sea Change, at Andrew Rafacz Gallery
I Surrender, an anniversary retrospective, at Devening Projects and Editions
Karen Reimer's amazing retrospective, Endless Set #1399, and the group exhibition curated by John Neff and Pamela Fraser, Spectral Landscape, at Gallery 400.
There were many honorable mentions as well; shows that I still appreciate greatly. These include the fantastic Chicago biennial curated by Dawoud Bey at Hyde Park Art Center; the wonderful group exhibition curated by Edmund Chia, Did you see heaven: Spectra at Peregrine Program; Jerome Acks' smooth square, soft circle, and Shane Huffman's Sense and Sensibility, both at 65Grand; Aspect Ratio's introduction to Chicago, which included both Gilad Ratman's and Brian Zanisnik's wonderful exhibitions; Kirsten Stoltmann's solo exhibition at New Capital; Karolina Gnatowski's fantastic piece, sounding off against all that testosterone, at Monique Meloche Gallery; Noelle Allen's first solo show in quite some time, at Carrie Secrist Gallery; Zachary Buchner's and Pete Skvara's solo exhibitions at Andrew Rafacz Gallery; Dutes Miller's quite lovely solo show at Western Exhibitions; and just for plain fun, Show Room/Odie Off, at threewalls.
And as always, some need to bid farewell to the passing of important spaces. A very sad goodbye to Golden, which after a series of really wonderful exhibitions, closed down its Chicago space, to focus solely on its Manhattan space. A true loss.
Nevertheless, it was a truly fine year indeed.
2012: The Chicago Museum Exhibitions I Most Enjoyed
As 2012 quickly comes to an end, I again find myself thinking back on the exhibitions I saw this year that stayed with me, particularly the ones that led me to think deeply about their featured works and what they were saying. The following list of shows, in no real order of preference, truly caught my interest and reminded me why I am a collector and true fan of contemporary practice:
Together, the Art Institute of Chicago and the Renaissance Society featured two quite wonderful exhibition pairings, that offered scope of history and representation to these artists' work: Dawoud Bey's tandem shows provided a perspective on his practice that read openly and just beautifully. I continue to be in awe of his eye and his conceptual voice. And Dahn Vo's "We the People" surprised me with its elegance. The presentation of the component pieces in the Pritzker Garden was just sublime. And the use of the Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago was genius - it's component pieces were incredibly well situated. The work opened up in a fascinating dialog with the spaces, and left me very pleased.
The Lichtenstein retrospective at the Art Institute of Chicago was truly one of this year's highlights. James Rondeau's love letter to this artist's vast practice and its strong linearity further reminded me why I was captivated by the work back when I was much younger, and remain so today.
Afterimage at the DePaul Art Museum was a truly exciting exhibition. To see the works of many artists, across time, who I have come to both appreciate deeply and respect immensely, was an opportunity of pleasure. From the beautiful selections of work by the Imagists, to their legacies who are engaging us now with their emotion and vision - this show just got it right.
Industry of the Ordinary's mid career retrospective, Sic transit gloria mundi, at the Chicago Cultural Center, proved again how clearly tied to the present a team of curators can be at this Chicago gem. A really captivating presentation of this collective's creative conscience.
Two exhibitions at the Museum of Contemporary Art proved to be strong favorites, as well. The introduction to Jimmy Robert's practice really caught me by surprise, with its lyricism and simple beauty. His videos, photographs, and constructions together provided a glimpse at a deeply considered exploration of self within the world, that seared with its sensuality and intelligence. And Helen Molesworth's "This Will Have Been: Art, Love, and Politics in the 1980s" took me back home, to the years that formed my activism and engagement with art. I was often left reexperiencing the raw emotions I first felt on seeing many of these artists for the first time, and was reminded again and again how clearly new and real the love and anger were when these pieces were created and exhibited. It was an truly apt time to bring this work forward.
Finally, I will add that the AIC ended the year quite well with the Steve McQueen retrospective and the first museum exhibition for Hito Steyerl. Both of these artists specialize in video, from quite divergent perspectives. However, each has taken this medium forward in quite daunting ways, and the two shows dance nicely together. Bravo.
Together, the Art Institute of Chicago and the Renaissance Society featured two quite wonderful exhibition pairings, that offered scope of history and representation to these artists' work: Dawoud Bey's tandem shows provided a perspective on his practice that read openly and just beautifully. I continue to be in awe of his eye and his conceptual voice. And Dahn Vo's "We the People" surprised me with its elegance. The presentation of the component pieces in the Pritzker Garden was just sublime. And the use of the Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago was genius - it's component pieces were incredibly well situated. The work opened up in a fascinating dialog with the spaces, and left me very pleased.
The Lichtenstein retrospective at the Art Institute of Chicago was truly one of this year's highlights. James Rondeau's love letter to this artist's vast practice and its strong linearity further reminded me why I was captivated by the work back when I was much younger, and remain so today.
Afterimage at the DePaul Art Museum was a truly exciting exhibition. To see the works of many artists, across time, who I have come to both appreciate deeply and respect immensely, was an opportunity of pleasure. From the beautiful selections of work by the Imagists, to their legacies who are engaging us now with their emotion and vision - this show just got it right.
Industry of the Ordinary's mid career retrospective, Sic transit gloria mundi, at the Chicago Cultural Center, proved again how clearly tied to the present a team of curators can be at this Chicago gem. A really captivating presentation of this collective's creative conscience.
Two exhibitions at the Museum of Contemporary Art proved to be strong favorites, as well. The introduction to Jimmy Robert's practice really caught me by surprise, with its lyricism and simple beauty. His videos, photographs, and constructions together provided a glimpse at a deeply considered exploration of self within the world, that seared with its sensuality and intelligence. And Helen Molesworth's "This Will Have Been: Art, Love, and Politics in the 1980s" took me back home, to the years that formed my activism and engagement with art. I was often left reexperiencing the raw emotions I first felt on seeing many of these artists for the first time, and was reminded again and again how clearly new and real the love and anger were when these pieces were created and exhibited. It was an truly apt time to bring this work forward.
Finally, I will add that the AIC ended the year quite well with the Steve McQueen retrospective and the first museum exhibition for Hito Steyerl. Both of these artists specialize in video, from quite divergent perspectives. However, each has taken this medium forward in quite daunting ways, and the two shows dance nicely together. Bravo.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Why I Am Not Board Certified
I am not, nor likely to become, a board certified clinical neuropsychologist. I have toyed with the idea, going as far as to apply and get accepted for taking the written examination. I have all the appropriate training and background. And I strongly recommend that my trainees consider pursuing the ABPP/ABCN (cf., American Board of Professional Psychology/American Board of Clinical Neuropsychology) option. To support that, I have even become an affiliate of the American Academy of Clinical Neuropsychology (AACN), the home of board certified neuropsychologists with ABPP credentials. But when it comes to actually completing the process, I continue to balk and hold back. And despite dabbling with the idea of pursuing ABPP status in Child and Adolescent Psychology (which I still may do), I remain ambivalent at best about board certification in clinical neuropsychology. Perhaps it is time to share why ...
First, and perhaps most important to my ambivalence, is the fact that at this time, there are three (yes, three) boards jockeying for some kind of position and status in the area of clinical neuropsychology. Two of these boards are now affiliated: ABN (the American Board of Professional Neuropsychology) and ABPdN (the American Board of Pediatric Neuropsychology), although each has in the past been a separate entity, competing for attention. Now, I am a pediatric neuropsychologist, so it might be wondered, why not go for that board as certification of my skills? Perhaps the easiest way to answer is to say that ABPdN appears to be a board without much of a mandate, or even any consistent constituency, making the option for membership unpalatable at best and still perhaps even suspect at worse. None of the key researchers, teachers, or mentors in the area of pediatric neuropsychology, with whom I have any relationship, have any connection with this board, and as such, the leaders of the organization appear to have little to no organizational support for their efforts or actions. In contrast, ABCN is a component of the ABPP, which holds strong support within organized clinical psychology. It however does not truly sit as a welcome home for me, as someone who first and foremost identifies as a clinical psychologist, who then specializes in neuropsychology. I find that it often emphasizes the small constituent parts of practice, as opposed to the broader gestalt of working with individuals, particularly children and adolescents, from a holistic perspective. I remind myself that this may be an error of perception; but it is a worry that sits heavily with me. And keeps me a bit skeptical in turn.
Second, I recognize that I represent an aspect of the profession that remains somewhat suspect, to my peers outside of the academy. I identify strongly as an academic, who integrates research with practice. I work within a University setting where I undergo repeated reviews of my effort and progress - my scholarship and the success of my practice are simultaneously reconsidered, as part of my reappointment process, every five years. By both a group of my professional peers and by my colleagues more broadly across the medical disciplines. This leaves me feeling that the imprimatur of board certification is really a bit superfluous. I have to go through a review of my work and my identity as an expert more often than I would ever do so within the framework of board certification. And in a manner that ultimately feels more rigorous, given the breadth of the review. It again may be a matter of perception, but it also weighs heavily when I think about the process of taking a written test, mostly about adult functioning and its assessment, and then submitting for review my work as an evaluator, and then undergoing a three hour interview. I find that it leaves me sitting in a place of tension, that I am not quite willing to expand.
Lastly, I really wonder what it all will do for me in the end. I have jumped hard and high through numerous hoops to date. I agree that licensure is only one step of the process, but as a published, funded, and well sought out expert -- I believe that I have already shown that I am a worthy representative of my disciplines. I have the credentials that I need already well in place, it seems. Is having one more -- the sign that my colleagues have allowed me into their club -- really going to change anything? I believe that I have already been accepted into the club. Having some additional letters after my name, and another professional society bill to pay each year, isn't really going to do much more.
I remain open to reconsideration of this belief. But for now, I admit that I am really much too busy to worry about it, when push comes to shove.
Second, I recognize that I represent an aspect of the profession that remains somewhat suspect, to my peers outside of the academy. I identify strongly as an academic, who integrates research with practice. I work within a University setting where I undergo repeated reviews of my effort and progress - my scholarship and the success of my practice are simultaneously reconsidered, as part of my reappointment process, every five years. By both a group of my professional peers and by my colleagues more broadly across the medical disciplines. This leaves me feeling that the imprimatur of board certification is really a bit superfluous. I have to go through a review of my work and my identity as an expert more often than I would ever do so within the framework of board certification. And in a manner that ultimately feels more rigorous, given the breadth of the review. It again may be a matter of perception, but it also weighs heavily when I think about the process of taking a written test, mostly about adult functioning and its assessment, and then submitting for review my work as an evaluator, and then undergoing a three hour interview. I find that it leaves me sitting in a place of tension, that I am not quite willing to expand.
Lastly, I really wonder what it all will do for me in the end. I have jumped hard and high through numerous hoops to date. I agree that licensure is only one step of the process, but as a published, funded, and well sought out expert -- I believe that I have already shown that I am a worthy representative of my disciplines. I have the credentials that I need already well in place, it seems. Is having one more -- the sign that my colleagues have allowed me into their club -- really going to change anything? I believe that I have already been accepted into the club. Having some additional letters after my name, and another professional society bill to pay each year, isn't really going to do much more.
I remain open to reconsideration of this belief. But for now, I admit that I am really much too busy to worry about it, when push comes to shove.
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