By Nick Sousanis

“You will find it all in a book.”

That statement opens Lynne Avadenka’s most recent artist’s book “By A Thread.” It also serves as a broader statement about the power of a book – in a recent interview, Avadenka stated that books are “containers” storing knowledge, culture, religion. We can also think of books as doorways through which to transport readers on journeys of exploration. In either sense, books are powerful vessels, yet still something with which we can interact on a quite intimate and personal level – we hold books in our hands, touch the pages, and a dialogue is created between reader and author in that exchange.

For Avadenka, making such limited edition artist’s books has long held great appeal. In fact, while she officially came to the medium from printmaking while attending graduate school at Wayne State University, she’s been making books since she was a little kid. She recounts from her childhood, “I made this fairy tale with a wooden cover. I made the binding, and did all the drawings, the illustrations, the text, and always was an avid reader. … I always had this interest in the physical object, and paper and typefaces and all those kinds of things.”

Throughout graduate school she worked as a freelance graphic designer making Jewish marriage contracts. At the same time, her artwork was quite abstract, completely devoid of content. “I was keeping those worlds really separate.” But this would change as she found that she spent an inordinate amount of time titling her prints, which led to the realization that text was really important to her. This brought her back to what she was doing with the marriage contracts, which were, “an integration of both word and image and made a sort of singular visual impact.” So she put together text, image, and the multiplicity offered by printmaking and started making books.

Her books are, as Avadenka describes them, typically text driven. “Usually it’s a text or a topic that comes first, and then it’s integrated with imagery, but not in a classic text on one side; illustration facing. They’re meant to be integrated. One can not exist without the other.”

Though her earlier works were often solely devoted to Jewish subject matter, she eventually began to broaden her scope. The first such project was “Root Words,” an exploration of the shared origins and commonalities between Hebrew and Arabic languages, produced with accompanying Islamic calligraphy by Mohamed Zakariya. These themes are picked up with “By A Thread,” which retells and connects two cultures and the similar stories of Scheherazade, the Persian queen and storyteller of “1001 Nights,” and the biblical Queen Esther. Through only their wits and their voices – by using their language to speak out – the two women triumphed against powerful forces and were able to bring freedom to themselves and to their people.

“By A Thread” addresses the power of language, of our words, through its content and further reinforces that message through the very vehicle it’s delivered in. Take this passage for instance, “Here’s what men forget about women wearing the veil: we can see them and they can’t read us.” It’s an insightful statement about the role of women in male-dominated cultures, but it also connects to Avadenka’s own thoughts about the power of books. She describes them as having a similar subversive quality – that even when, “people think they know what’s going to be inside it, you have total control to surprise.”

As a physical art object, “By A Thread” is surely such a surprise. Ingenious craftsmanship coupled with her abstract compositions work with the text for a full literary and visual experience. The “jacket” or slipcase unfolds like the four sides of a top-less box split down the seams, with text revealed as each “petal” is opened taking the reader into the text on the first page of the book (which is then removed from this outer layer) itself. The artwork is configured from non-representational references to the cultures’ architectural forms and patterns, and is drawn in subdued but rich palettes. While we can focus on individual moments within the compositions, the imagery serves quite strongly to manifest atmosphere – we feel the places, the times, the culture, the circumstances, even the people, without ever seeing a single illustration of such things.

The text is integrated into the book so as to not interfere with the art. It’s printed on tabs the width of a page and about a third of the page in height inserted between each page, with sequential chapters of the narrative on each side of the tab. For the reader, this means turning pages within pages, giving the story Avadenka spins yet another layer of complexity. After reaching the end of Esther’s tale, another turn of the page flips the entire accordion-structured book to its backside, which is the start of Scheherazade’s tale. This of course leads back to Esther’s at its conclusion. This literal cyclical structure ties metaphorically into the linkage between the stories and cyclical connection of history.

Avadenka spells out this connection through the ages with a lovely passage that suggests the book’s title as well. “Dear sister of stories, I don’t know if my story will be remembered, or even if it will find you. If even the thinnest thread reaches you, take from it what you can use and tell your own story in order to survive.” And surely, the lessons of these courageous women ring just as true today: “Because of my voice … My people were not destroyed.” At a time when our capacity for communication is so expansive, her works ask that we remember the power in our words. As Avadenka writes, “In the end, it is language that will save us.”

Next on Avadenka’s docket is designing a book featuring the words of Israeli poet Dan Pagis, who’s credited with bringing Hebrew poetry into modern times. The featured images will come from collages made from maps of German train lines, which she created while working in that country last year. “By A Thread” will reach beyond its already unusually bound format and be reimagined as an installation exhibition in Boston in March of 2008. She plans to fill the huge space with 1001 drawings that “explode the story off the wall,” with the idea of transforming the book from something that can be entered visually into an experience people can enter more literally.

She’s also in the research stage of a project dealing with the Golden Age of Spain – a time when Christians, Arabs, and Jews lived alongside one another and “got along” to some degree. She’s focusing on Hebrew poets who live and spoke Arabic and transformed the Arabic poetry of the time into Hebrew, and how that particular moment in time speaks to the broader influences cultures have upon one another.

While differences in language have certainly kept people apart, in presenting our commonality and the power of our words to bring about change, Avadenka’s books demonstrate the potential for language to bind us together.

For more on Avadenka’s work, check out her website http://landmarkspress.com/. Her prints are currently on view at Lemberg Gallery.

The Contemporary Art Institute of Detroit is now accepting applications for the Whitdell Apartment building. This is the first affordable housing development in Detroit specifically design for artists. This unique opportunity is a result of the collaborative efforts of Southwest Solutions (the non profit building developer) and CAID. The 1920’s era 32 unit apartment building has been completely refurbished and will include 1, 2 and 3 bedroom units along with a new state of the art gallery and educational studios operated by CAID. Why live anywhere else? Make your home in a creative environment where the rent is affordable and your neighbors are creative and actively involved in Detroit’s cultural community. Musicians, painters, poets, sculptors, fashion designers and other creative individuals are encouraged to apply. Please contact CAID for application details.

With so many new $200K and higher condominiums going in where artists once thrived, the Whitdell Building offers a safe and permanent space for artists with no threat of gentrification. Consider the impact this new housing project has on not only the artists but the cultural integrity of Detroit as well. Don’t miss out! Apply today. Move in dates start in October 2007.

The new gallery in the Whitdell Building:

This 1200 sq ft gallery will be housed in the 32 unit apartment building thoughtfully designed as affordable housing for artists. The work of local and international artists will be featured in this completely new state of the art gallery. Artists residing in the building will have an opportunity to have their work considered for exhibition. The gallery and educational studios intend to serve as a model for other apartment building developments in the Detroit area and abroad.

Southwest Solutions Mission:

Our goal is to improve the health and well-being of individuals and families while making Southwest Detroit a great place to live, work and play. Southwest Solutions' family of corporations offers an array of services to create a healthier and stronger southwest Detroit community, including:

·Mental Health Services for children, youth, families and adults
·Family Literacy
·Housing and Economic Development

Contemporary Art Institute of Detroit Mission:

The Contemporary Art Institute of Detroit is a community based non-profit organization. CAID fosters and promotes the essential link between contemporary arts and contemporary society through its exhibitions, performances, critical and public discourse and the funding of contemporary arts and art related activities.

Visit CAID online at www.thecaid.org or www.myspace.com/thecaid

Contemporary Art Institute of Detroit
5141 Rosa Parks Blvd
Detroit MI 48208
info@thecaid.org
313.899.CAID (2243)

Yacht Club Gallery
Opened June 16, 2007

Arts blogger extraordinaire Ann Gordon crosses over from her role of ever-present gallery-goer (and artist) to set up her own shop in the former Pr1mary Space. It’s a bold move as she opens herself up to feedback from the other side of the blogosphere, and of course, critics – which is where we come in.

Gordon has taken quite an active curatorial role – not stopping at selecting the work, but creating pieces for the show and altering some of the works themselves. The show title implies an active stance against critical feedback, yet that stance feels almost contradicted by a curatorial statement that attempts to over-explain everything. There are plenty of clever bits in the writing, but ultimately we’re given too much in terms of how to think, to feel, to react to the work, an attempt to shape the viewer’s own response. The statement espouses six loosely defined theoretical themes that the show sets out to explore in terms of its overall premise. It’s ends up being a lot to keep up with. (To make it just a bit more complicated, despite rereading the statement numerous times, I keep coming up with seven listed themes.)

The centerpiece of the show is an installation of sketches and notes created by Los Angeles artist Mary Addison Hackett. One large poster board done in the sort of style of lettering you might find on a poster for someone running for high school student council (in the 80s at least), reads “Today was fucked but tomorrow tomorrow is another day.” The first tomorrow is uncolored, off-centered, and crossed out, as if the artist made a mistake, or changed her mind and then changed it back again. Its intentional appearance of non-intentionality works and hooks our attention. Smaller messages read as if reminders, affirmations written by the artist and placed around her studio – perhaps they are. Some samples, “Give yourself rewards for self-control,” “I will become what I think,” and “Paint Happy Words Pictures.” There’s irony and sarcasm aplenty and it’s hard to know if you should laugh or reflect with a long, knowing pause. By itself, this is the sort of piece that works within the intended framework of the exhibition. Gordon has compounded upon that by intentionally hanging the work incorrectly, as she says, “It’s the viewer saying, ‘F*ck you!’ to the artist’s intended objective.” The fact is, there are works that would be really f*cked with if hung out of sorts, but not this one – it works in any configuration, mixed around, parts upside down. It’s a collection of random thoughts and images that each viewer will take in at his or her own path and speed, were it not for the installation blueprint hanging nearby, no one would be the wiser.

A single painting by Toronto artist Andre Ethier, features a Rambo-esque duck telling the viewer to “duck off”. The show essay states that this is “the artist’s pro-active, and quite probably both silly and ultimately futile, preemptive strike against critical response.” It had me at “silly” and “futile.” Rambo mixed with Duck should be funny, but it’s not. There’s just not enough meat on the bones of this one in terms of painting or concept to warrant a critical response.

Chicago painter Nevin Tomlinson offers greater conceptual thought, addressing the “box” as multiple metaphors in a series of paintings. It’s a start – the parallel compositions tie in nicely to the idea of being “in the box,” in all the potential meanings of that phrase, but ultimately the works need to probe deeper to really connect.

New Yorker Jose Ruiz offers up a label for a non-existent painting, which reads, “Your Opportunity To Feel Something Here.” It’s quite clever and Gordon gives it perfectly appropriate space with an entire blank, white wall to itself. It’s the sort of thing that by its very nature is forgettable, but it elicits the right response at the moment of viewing it, and fits in well with the overall curatorial scheme.

There’s a single photo in the show, of artist Chuck Close taken without his knowledge at an art fair and put up on (one assumes) the curator’s blog. Here the statement is quite insightful and speaks to the issues of privacy and anonymity raised in an age of camera phones and blogging. This piece offers the seeds for a whole exhibition delving into blogging and web-culture in general that could be really promising.

Local artist Dylan Spaysky offers up a Zoetrope spinning on the gallery’s ceiling fan (hence making it seasonal art.) It’s a janky, awkward looking construction, jerking about in the gallery, which is just right. Animated writing inside reads “Tug Ahoy,” in reference to the show’s title. It’s a clever and light moment that offers a reminder of the fun had in putting this on and the jest of both the gallery and show titles.

The final piece, a video, is a strong curatorial element. Staged and filmed “anonymously,” it features artists and directors of their respective galleries Dick Goody and Jef Bourgeau sitting at a small table. Goody is reading (from “Art in America” were told), in the manner of a learned academic, while the impish Bourgeau is tying him up in a length of rope. There are plenty of meanings to be read into this – as in link between artist and critic, artist and audience, and from knowing the identity of these men and their role in the community, but it stands on its own (even without the volume on) as this odd couple of playful prankster and exacerbated orator. They dynamic between the two propels imagined narrative along and one could envision this as but the first of several.

Overall the show is ambitious, in terms of where the artists are from and types of work shown. Perhaps too much so, as narrowing the focus could strengthen what’s already there. There are plenty of interesting ideas at hand, but too many of them all at once. There’s never a chance for them to build upon and resonate with one another. That said, in an era where blogs rule the day and 1,050 word art essays are coveted, but seldom read, maybe this fleeting bit of attention to each idea is just about right. – Nick Sousanis
ws@thedetroiter.com

In honor of blogger Ann Gordon and her debut as gallerist (see our review here), along with a long-held desire to cover more and use a shorter format to do so, and in the continuing interest of connecting places that don’t always connect, we offer a few short snippets about current shows.

Lemberg Gallery

First up, Lemberg Gallery offers “Fresh: A Changing Exhibition.” As the show implies, this exhibition will be “freshened up” throughout the summer. New works will be moved in as others are taken out, and different artists will be woven in throughout the summer. (The only thing that could be more enticing to get folks to drop in every couple of weeks would be complimentary glasses of lemonade.)

It’s a mix of regulars and new faces mixed together, and remixed as the summer goes on. All of it stays true to the gallery’s consistent, but quite variable visual aesthetic. Some works really need to be seen within the larger body of the artist’s work (think of listening to a song as part of an album, not as a single), but such is the nature of a group show, a sample platter to let viewers get a taste of just about everything that might be offered at the gallery. And that works. There are a lot of good works – paintings, prints, and others to check out. Jacque Liu in particular drew a lot of attention with an expansion upon the body of works cut out on paper that he showed here last summer with a major and quite satisfying innovation. There’s an otherwordly fiber work installation growing out of a corner and much more as well to check out.

Paramount Bank

This will likely be the subject of a full length review in the coming weeks. But very, very briefly Mary Kim does snaking, curving, geometric architectural forms, and Lynn Bennett-Carpenter shares whimsical tiny drawings of people engaged in recreational activities and links them to cloth ribbon – like wake lines or some such thing. As has often been the case, the pairings work well together and have a nice back and forth between them.

Dell Pryor
Hip-Hop a Global Notice
Through July 14, 2007

Tribute to hip-hop photography, paint, and graffiti. There’s some solid characterization of prominent people and the feel of hip-hop culture. This show really points out the need for people to branch out and check out different venues. Art is such a powerful, rich, and universal language, which makes it quite educational for others to see, but also for the artists themselves to learn from one another. A coming together that can only be beneficial to everyone.

In addition to the exhibition, June 17, ,there will a panel discussion that will take place at the Marygrove College Theater on Detroit’s Westside District, starting at 6pm. The panel will feature various speakers from the hip-hop and urban community.

Johanson Charles Gallery
Marvalisa
Through July 7, 2007

Ok, I missed this one, but I had every intention of doing so. For some words about Marvalisa’s solo show there last summer, please click here.

Like the short format? Want to hear a little bit about more? Let us know what you think, and we'll see you here next time. - Nick Sousanis
ws@thedetroiter.com

The Grosse Pointe Art Center, located at 1005 Maryland, Grosse Pointe Park, must close their doors as of July 31st, 2007. They are looking for a new space.

After six fabulously successful years, the city administration of Grosse Pointe Park requires the return of the building they have so generously allowed the Grosse Pointe Artists Association to use. The space, known as, the Grosse Pointe Art Center, has hosted art exhibits, lectures, classes, workshops, critiques, and poetry readings. The art activities have brought in hundreds of Grosse Pointers and tri-county area residents.

In 2008, the GPAA will be celebrating 70 years as a non-profit organization. Over the past 10 years this organization has changed dramatically from a small local group of artists to an inclusive organization without restrictions or limitations.

The Grosse Pointe Art Center is a well-known, well-respected center for the arts. Although saddened by the closing, the GPAA is grateful for the opportunities given and the extraordinary accomplishments achieved.

The GPAA is seeking a temporary shelter while looking to purchase a building. Members of the GPAA have been very committed to the Grosse Pointe Art Center’s development. They expect, in the future, to continue all of their programs and to greatly expand and enhance them.

With the help of the community the GPAA will achieve their goals. Any and all suggestions are welcome. Hopefully, with the backing of a few foundations, new doors to a larger Art Center will open to increase the artistic talent and the appreciation of the arts that the Grosse Pointe Artists Association has fostered.

Please assist in making this future a reality.

313.821.1848 gpaa1@sbcglobal.net

Check out entry form for AAA's 25th anniversary print exhibition here.

Detroit Artists Market
June 9 through July 14, 2007

For some time now, I’ve been exclaiming to anyone who will listen that the arts in Detroit need sports fans! With some 40,000 folks making it downtown every Tigers game (and 20,000 less and more for hockey and football respectively) there are a lot of people who pour into the city, who then leave just as quickly. It’s essential to reach out and offer these folks a reason to stay awhile. This means first off, being creative in opening the doors and shedding a bit of the exclusivity image of an art space, and secondly, creating something educational. By establishing an educational experience, it opens the possibilities of not simply catching a new audience’s fleeting attention for moment, but to instead help newcomers enter this arena of a different sort and become as engaged with the feats of artists as they are with those of athletes.

As far as that first goal – attracting sports fans – the Detroit Artists Market succeeds quite well in achieving it with “Baseball as Art” (though the title leaves an awful lot to be desired, I mean maybe, “The Art of Baseball,” “Artistic Responses to Baseball,” “views from leftfield,” something…. Actually, it really is “Art about Baseball.”) My cap’s off to DAM for really getting into the spirit of the sport, with an opening night that featured roasted peanuts, hot dogs, and a staff wearing Tiger jerseys. It was quite a lively event and definitely drew in a crowd of a different sort, in addition to its regular attendees. Additionally, bringing in as juror Sharon Arend, archivist for the Tigers’ owners, is a great move, and another important form of outreach.

In terms of being educational however, the exhibition doesn’t reach quite as far. It’s an entirely sincere homage to the sport of baseball making use of the tools and techniques of art, but it never treads into much deeper terrain. For some, this is just fine, it’s a definite act of outreach, it’s lighthearted – perfect for summer, it livened the place up, and brought in some fresh faces, who ended up having a good time. Perhaps this is asking too much, but it does seem worth considering the impact a stronger show on the conceptual side of things might have had in serving more as a gentle introduction to the sorts of ideas explored in art today, allowing for a more lasting crossover when the subject matter is not baseball. And the reverse could be true as well, art about baseball could open a window of greater appreciation into the game for those of us less taken with the sport to begin with (including this writer.)

That said, the work has some hits and, as is always the case with juried shows, a few misses too (“you don’t always get to show the work you want, you show the work you have.”)

What’s consistent in every artists’ work is a clear love of the game coming out in creative ways. As is the case with a sport so rich in history and statistics (who in Detroit doesn’t know when the previous Tiger no-hitter was pitched?), many of them pay tribute to the game’s storied past, of clear appeal to baseball enthusiasts in terms of expression of history and attention to craft. There’s a fair amount of nostalgia and other light-hearted fare, and a few meander into left field in terms of kitsch – take the painting of hot dogs and baseballs on buns by Lindsay Yeatts for example – quite well-executed yes, but ultimately pretty silly. On the other side of representative works stands Mario Francois Isenmann’s wonderfully rendered composition of pitcher’s hand and ball. An iconic moment, framed with enough non-specifity to allow the viewer to read his or her own narrative into the piece, but with enough substance to it for one to simply enjoy the mix of marks painted on and carved out of the surface. Yes, this all creates a composition that happens to be about baseball, but it can be appreciated regardless. Sergio DeGiusti’s relief of Tiger great Charlie Gehringer is both a tribute to this local hero, while standing on its own within the oeuvre of De Giusti’s sculptural portraiture. These works function on multiple levels and can stand on their own.

Michael Ellyson elevates the already obsessive nature of baseball fandom to a new level with a piece consisting of an entire season of baseball cards laid out in a wall-spanning grid. He’s careful cut out elements from each card and then re-positioned them with tiny wires in nearly their original position but at varying heights above surface of the card, making them into three-dimensional, pop-up like cards (all before the era of foil hologram cards too!) It’s like an exotic butterfly collection – dissected and pinned up – quite a display of creativity and compulsion.

A few artists push a little deeper on issues through the work. Robert Downs’ clever multi-part paintings are visual commentaries on internal issues within the realm of baseball. In a thoughtful, if heavy-handed piece, Gabriel R. Paavola’s “America’s Favorite Pasttime” looks at steroid use in the sport, with an over-sized syringe, with baseballs as drug in the barrel, and bat as plunger. Phillip Dewey uses baseball as microcosm of larger society. His two nicely-rendered works feature the well-known Satchel Paige and lesser-known Chet Brewer, respectively, both greats in the Negro Leagues at a time when baseball, like this country was segregated. These are accompanied by a lone curatorial aspect of the show – the number “42” quietly printed on a support beam nearby. No, this is not a reference to “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” but a silent tribute to Jackie Robinson, who shattered the color barrier in baseball, and whose number is the only one retired league-wide.

These works reach towards a place that the show could use more of. It’s not that everything needs to go down that road, but the game is so intrinsically wrapped up with story of this nation, it’s a fertile terrain for exploration and asks us to go there. This brings to mind a number of works seen in Detroit over the last few years, including Eric Mesko’s shrine to the game, (permutations of which have been shown a few times around town) which connected the game’s history to his own grandfather and other relatives playing in the coal miner leagues prevalent in the day. It would fit nicely here. Somewhat in this vein, it’s worth mentioning one final piece that is in the show. Though perhaps not the strongest visually, Paul Steele’s “Playstation Won Out,” a watercolor of an empty ball field, is a haunting image. The time of Mesko’s grandfather and local leagues is fading, as the game has gotten bigger, we spend more time being spectators and video game players – the physical and social act of play is less common. Our parks sit empty – waiting to be played in again. (To that end, DAM’s final pitch in this month long celebration of the link between baseball and art will feature a game between Detroit artists and writers. A nice tribute to such games past, and perhaps going forward the start of further community activities. Check it out at 6pm July 14 at Clark Park in Detroit.)

This show is fun, to be sure, and offers a range of works particularly of interest to baseball enthusiasts. It does what it does well, and perhaps the next permutation of this positive and necessary idea will go even farther in displaying the power of art as a means of altering our perspective – and find one from which baseball fans and arts folks alike could learn from – a step towards breaking down another artificial barrier between people. That would truly be a home run. – Nick Sousanis
ws@thedetroiter.com

Detroit Industrial Projects
1610 Clay Ave.
Second Building, Third Floor
Detroit, MI 48211
June 1 – June 30, 2007

By Dolores Slowinski

We’ve all seen the evidence: the square crystals of pale, blue-green glass on the street; detritus left behind by car thieves. The bits of glass give silent testimony to the extreme strike force, muscle power and heavy object, used to shatter windows and psyche. Violence, physical and emotional, reduced to glittering glass.

Seldom is it swept up. It is left as if to mark the spot; document the impact.

Ignored, it moves closer to the curb. Hundreds of thousands of tires acting like glacial boulders move the crystals of tempered glass incrementally to the edges of streets and roadways. In gutters it mixes with dirt and urban grit as if it might eventually be reduced to the silica from which it was made.

Nevertheless, it sparkles and glints, catches our eye, reminds us of the violence, the victims, the thieves; the denial, disbelief, loss, anger, bitterness, and pain; the rising insurance rates, the inconvenience and expense, the time lost, police reports; the uneasiness, waiting and hope; the replacement. Most of all our eyes are assaulted by the knowledge that it could, and does, happen again, and again, and again.

Auto theft and vandalism is the SLIP in respect for personal property that plagues Detroit and all urban areas.

Alana Bartol, Liz Bernblum, Emily Linn, and Lindsay Satchell took note of the amount of broken auto glass in the gutters and curbs around Wayne State University. Linn had her car stolen twice, so she was particularly sensitive to their findings. These four graduate students decided to SHIFT their response to the broken glass and all it represented.

Equipped with dustpan, floor brush, broom, bucket and video camera, the four women first collected the curbside glass with the idea that they would SWITCH the perception of it as evidence of urban violence and decay to something beautiful that evoked a sense of healing and peace.

Rather than gather the glass, dirt and all, and just dump it on a gallery floor with statistical information about the date, location, and amount gathered at each site, they chose a longer, more arduous process. They purified the glass by sifting out the dirt and debris, washing it and letting it dry, sorting it by color and shape, discarding broken bottle glass. As if this was not labor intensive enough, they made 9 hand-felted blankets of white, virgin wool on which to present it.

Entering the gallery you see the felt blankets gleaming white, arranged on the scarred industrial floor like meditation/prayer rugs in temple or mosque; pallets for naps in a nursery school; sheets for the homeless in shelters; platters to accept offerings in sacred spaces. On 8 of the blankets there are three piles of glass; on the ninth one there is only one larger pile of glass. The piles are formed naturally by the pouring out of the glass…not unlike offerings in temples or presentation of spices in open markets.

On the factory windows at the back of the installation, is a schematic map of the locations where the glass was gathered. In the far left of the gallery, three video monitors play continuous presentations of 1) the gathering process; 2) the purification process; and 3) the felting process. The videos are without narration and so well edited by Bartol and Linn as to be mesmerizing. The ambient sounds of the sweeping, scraping, washing/sorting, and felting add to the soothing effect of the installation.

Cleaning city gutters by hand and working quietly against the background of empty buildings, parked cars, hospitals, restaurants and local traffic became their act of reclamation. This was not glamorous work. It was humbly and effectively done.

Sifting out the spent and useless soil with ordinary mesh strainers and letting it fall among weeds became a gesture of renewal and hope. Dirt it was and to dirt it was returned, to be enriched by decomposing plants and hard working worms. This was an ecological SHIFT unconsciously discovered as the process unfolded.

Washing the glass using buckets and a garden hose as well as sorting all the glass with their fingers added a gentle intimacy to the process that nullified the brutal stroke that had broken the glass in the first place. This was another aspect of the SHIFT from treating something like trash to panning for “urban diamonds” by touching each and every one.

The counting trays themselves were sumptuous bowls and platters in jewel-toned colors when they could just as easily have been quotidian plastic lids or aluminum pie tins. This simple refusal to treat the broken glass as trash, to place it in beautiful containers even during the preparation process indicated that a SWITCH in attitude toward the glass was almost complete…that reverence and respect can create a change in our internal as well as external environment.

Rolling the wet and wrapped woolen fibers until they matted together to form the blankets was a supple, muscular practice that created its own rhythm. Working together using their forearms, Bernblum and Satchell set up a rhythm experienced around the world by people working in tandem at the same task. Their bodies moved as one.

The artistic process of creating this installation became one of reclamation and reconciliation.

Bartol, Bernblum, Linn, and Satchell took an industrially manufactured material in its broken state and returned it to a temple of manufacturing to awaken our awareness of the brokeness of our city, our state, our nation, and our culture.

As Detroit and its auto industry suffer the indignity of age, loss of self-discipline, vision, and imagination, these four artists have taken a by-product of that SLIP in self-respect, and SHIFTed it from trash to treasure. They SWITCHED a series of repetitive exercises into a sparkling and beautiful installation worthy of our contemplation and respect. – Dolores S. Slowinski

Dolores is familiar with the heart-stopping discovery of broken auto glass on the street in front of her Detroit home.