May 23, 2008

Infinitus: Chaos Mimics Metropolis

by Victoria Blake

Push aside the black curtain this month at the New American Art Union and you'll see a vision of the world that is made of contradictions: bleak and beautiful, busy and peaceful, simple and incredibly complex. The installation, TJ Norris' "Infinitus," the second of 10 noncommercial works commissioned by the gallery with its visionary "Couture" grants, creates an immersive environment of video and sound, invoking an experience of the infinite inside the bustle of urban life.

The piece works on a visceral level more than an intellectual one. The heart of the installation is two, 71-minute loops of mainly black-and-white video clips accompanied by a 71-minute soundtrack. The videos, projected onto fabric overhead, capture the bleakness of the urban landscape: rain on windshields, passing cars, razor wire and weeds growing through fences. The music, composed by French sound artist C. Renou, drones loudly, sounding at times like aboriginal woodwinds playing atonal dirges, at other times like whale calls heard underwater.

Projected overhead, the videos force the viewer to lie atop a sloped platform, looking upward at the images warbling over the fabric screen. The platforms --glorified boxes of wood, painted white and outfitted with a white pillow, making them appear uncomfortably similar to coffins --filter and clarify the sound like the body of a guitar. When lying atop one, you feel the music in your bones. Gradually, your vision blurs, the sound drones on and your mind wanders. A deep peace sets in --Norris' idea of the infinite.

"Infinitus" is the last in a triptych of installations by Norris over several years. Each uses sound loops combined with visuals. But with a gap of two to three years between the installations, Norris might be asking too much of his viewers if his intention is to string the three installations together conceptually or experientially, or both.

Still, the works resonate in an interesting way. The first two, in 2003 and 2005, looked at the way the urban environment changes the individual. These earlier installations took a close-up view of the subject, focusing on the micro scale: DNA and wall cracks.

"Infinitus," on the other hand, takes a step back. The view is long-lensed. The projected videos give a sense of the totality of the metropolis, while a cutout silhouette of a built-out skyline on the far wall of the room reminds the viewer of the urban context that frames the work. A light box at the entrance adds a more sinister feel. Playing with the familiar phrasing of Miranda laws --the most urban of commandments --the light box tells the viewer to "Reserve the right to remain silent."

There is no criticism in Norris' work, no sly judgment of city life, no considered critique of the urban environment. Instead, the installations seem to rise out of a love affair with the city and with the serendipitous beauty that can sometimes be created when a chain-link fence meets an overpass. With the black-and-white images, the droning sound, the geometric platforms facing the ceiling and the peachy glow of the light box, the total effect of the piece is controlled chaos, exactly like the city itself.

New American Art Union, 922 S.E. Ankeny St. Hours: Noon-6 p.m. Thursday-Sunday. Closes June 22.

May 1, 2008

Shows of Note: The next "Couture"

by D.K. Row

Multidisciplinary artist TJ Norris is the second featured artist in Ruth Ann Brown's "Couture" series at the New American Art Union. Norris follows the beautiful, woolly shenanigans of The Video Gentlemen.

You'd have to be living in a cave not to have noticed Norris in recent years. He's everywhere, it seems, as a curator, blogger, artist and man about town. What should the public expect from Norris in this show, an opportunity for him to work without commercial considerations (not that he ever really has)?

A hint: Norris' past work has often distilled sound and video and photography into a minimal essence. So expect some of the same. But more, or different, of course. Here's how Norris describes the new show:

"Imagine the entire globe manifesting itself through interconnected man-made mini malls. It is a viral sign, a shift toward the abandonment of the fragility of nature altogether. A world minus the underbelly of the faded industrial age. A city that could stand to exist without population per se. Skyscrapers reach higher, taking the place of mountain peaks or paper mills. A cyclical break in urban origins. Norris' 'Infinitus' is a multimedia video lounge that imitates this global shift with supreme artificiality."

Opens May 7 with a reception at 6 p.m. New American Art Union, 922 S.E. Ankeny St.

October 10, 2007

Supporting arts, right at its roots

A gallery owner frustrated with the system takes things into her own hands . . .

by D.K. Row

The 10 Portland artists and artist teams picked by Ruth Ann Brown for her "Couture" project:

Rose McCormick: Painter whose recent work has been inspired by her cross-country travels. Recently returned to Portland after a year in New York.

Ty Ennis: Drawer and painter of spare, often figurative, work that explores the tussle of personal relationships.

Jim Lommasson: Photographer whose series on the culture of boxing gyms won wide acclaim and was published in book form.

Jacqueline Ehlis: Painter of abstract imagery who once studied with influential art critic Dave Hickey.

TJ Norris: Photographer, video and installation artist who once ran a gallery in the Everett Station Lofts.

Stephen Slappe: Emerging video-installation artist.

Vanessa Renwick: Pioneer of Portland's video and experimental film scene. Just received a special recognition award from the Seattle Art Museum.

Laura Fritz: Installation artist whose work often explores scientific environments and themes.

Ethan Jackson: Installation artist and photographer who once taught at Reed College.

"The Video Gentlemen" (Carl Diehl, Jesse England, Mack McFarland): The name of the group says it all.

Portland's low-budget art scene got a healthy jolt Tuesday: an investment by a single dealer that directly challenges the city's major institutions and galleries to play the art game far more seriously.

Art dealer Ruth Ann Brown of the New American Art Union announced the 10 recipients of a special artists' stipend project. Each artist will receive $8,000 -- a $7,000 stipend plus $1,000 for art materials.

What makes the project even more unusual is that Brown is financing the entire project with her own money. In a city with an avalanche of artists but comparatively few patrons and supporters, that's a challenge to others to step up, too.

Called "Couture," the project will help the artists produce and then exhibit their most challenging work at Brown's gallery.

"Part of why I'm doing this is me being selfish," Brown says. "But also because I'm frustrated with what's going on here."

Brown says Portland's artists aren't being nurtured by its galleries and institutions, most of which aren't accurately reflecting the challenging nature of work in the city.

In the Age of the Billionaire, $80,000 may not be an extraordinary amount of money. But Brown's gumption and generosity, the artistic freedom afforded to the selected artists, and the project's implications for the city's art scene transcend numbers. The project also is historic: Dealers have occasionally financed small projects by artists, but Brown's "Couture" idea is more systematic.

"In many ways, Ruth Ann is becoming more than a dealer," says Stephanie Snyder, director of the art gallery at Reed College, where Brown, 28, went to college before graduating from Portland State University. "She's a producer of projects. A facilitator of talent."

The 10 artists picked by Brown are Rose McCormick, Ty Ennis, Jim Lommasson, Jacqueline Ehlis, TJ Norris, Stephen Slappe, Vanessa Renwick, Laura Fritz, Ethan Jackson and three artists -- Carl Diehl, Jesse England and Mack McFarland -- who call themselves "The Video Gentlemen."

A few of the artists -- McCormick, Ennis and Ehlis -- are painters and drawers. Lommasson is a photographer. All are from the Portland area, although the 98 artists who applied for the stipend hail from around the nation, including Seattle, Los Angeles and New York.

Brown says she was attracted to these 10 artists because their work addressed two essential themes: how art and entertainment have merged into a new art form; and the political upheaval of the post-millennial era, a dialogue that Brown thinks today's artists have been reluctant to explore.

"Why is art moving away from the important contemporary issues of our times?" asks Brown, who opened her gallery three years ago.

Four of the artists -- McCormick, Ennis, Lommasson and Norris -- are either represented by Brown or have shown at her gallery in the past. One other, Ehlis, participated in a group show and has also curated an exhibit at the gallery. The other five weren't affiliated with Brown's gallery, though she knew of their work.

All of the artists share a few qualities: None is an established figure regionally, although critics have praised the work of Ehlis and Renwick during the past decade. None is commercially oriented. And a few, like Jackson, have been working completely outside the local system.

Brown says the $8,000 to each artist comes with "no strings." The only expectation of the artists is that they make work they might not otherwise get a chance to show in galleries.

That's one reason why the work won't be for sale. The artists will be free to produce art that pushes their respective artistic boundaries. Lommasson, for instance, finally will get to work on a long-brewing photo project documenting American soldiers returning from the Iraq war.

A native of Detroit, Brown says she's going to fund "Couture" by using some of the equity she's built up in the building that houses her gallery on Southeast Ankeny Street. She bought the building several years ago with money from a family inheritance. Brown's mother died when Brown was 9.

That may not be the most practical way to fund an ambitious art project. But in do-it-yourself Portland, it's an appropriately fitting way.

The few attempts to embrace the region's art activity comprehensively, such as the Portland Art Museum's Contemporary Northwest Art Awards -- which will award one regional artist $10,000 and a show at the museum next year -- cater to already established or late-career artists or ignore the scene's bounty of talented but under-recognized artists.

The finalists for the CNAA are bland, Brown argues: "I understand (the importance of) honoring late-career artists, but I don't know if those choices benefit the community at large."

Whether you agree with Brown's assessment, the young dealer is banking that others will follow suit or challenge her.

"What everyone in the community has to do now is pay attention and see these shows," Snyder says. "And give them the respect that such a project deserves."

June 8, 2007

Shows of Note

by D.K. Row

First Friday Calm and relatively quiet -- compared to Last Thursday and First Thursday, that is -- First Friday is the well-mannered art walk. Riots and nutty behavior have yet to overwhelm it, partly because the geography is pretty expansive: You really do need a car to visit all of the participating galleries.

Still, a feeling of intimacy and community prevails in this monthly gathering, held mostly within the confines of the inner Southeast Portland section of town. Friday night, the art walk kicks off with two more sterling shows at New American Art Union (922 S.E. Ankeny St.) and the Newspace Center for Photography (1632 S.E. 10th Ave.).

At NAAU, artist Jesse Hayward dons the curator's hat by assembling installation work from notable local artists: Brenden Clenaghen, Jacqueline Ehlis, Ellen George, Sean Healy, Jeff Jahn, Jenene Nagy, TJ Norris and Stephanie Robison. Many of the artists may be better known for their work in other media; Clenaghen and Ehlis have worked mostly with paint, for example, though never in the conventional sense. Their spare, refined, abstract work has usually seemed closer to installation than anything else.

April 13, 2007

Subtle arts, Subtle effects

by Rachel Neugarten

This month at the New American Art Union, you'll have to use your ears as much as your eyes to experience "invisible.other," TJ Norris' latest group-curated show.

One wall drawing, for example, is made of nearly imperceptible pinholes; a pencil drawing has been covered with white paint; and a sound installation is in fact not meant to be seen.

The works by 12 Northwest and international artists -- including Portlanders Ty Ennis, Melia Donovan and Abi Spring, Springfield-based Laura Vandenburgh, Seattle's Susan Robb, Thomas Koner from Berlin and Sweden's Leif Elggren -- argue many things. They ask viewers to explore the nature of seeing, or just as often, the nature of being unable to see. The exhibit also affirms an increasingly cool, even sterile, aesthetic by Norris, a multimedia artist who has become a noteworthy presenter of emerging talent.

Artists often are accused of being intentionally obscure. Curators can be guilty of that sin, too. Advice to viewers of this show: Don't read Norris' curating statement, almost all of which reads like purposefully inscrutable rhetoric.

That's a shame because many of the artists in this show are working in the tradition of minimalism and conceptual art, movements that pushed the formal boundaries and definitions of art. Those movements also inspired a great deal of cynicism for their emphasis on abstract ideas, not the art object.

Like almost all of Norris' previous work as both curator and artist, "invisible.other" is a big bear hug to the ephemeral, albeit a thoughtful expression of that quality. As the title suggests, Norris is interested in exploring how people see art, so he's selected works that are so indirect as to virtually disappear or, in some instances, remain invisible to the eye.

The best example might be Melia Donovan's "Frostie Freeze," a work so subtle you'll have to hunt for it. Donovan has punched tiny holes into the surface of one of the gallery's walls, etching out a scene of customers at an ice-cream stand. The whole piece is below waist level; many gallery-goers the night of the opening walked right past it. Here, Donovan has interpreted the theme of invisibility literally, composing a visual arts parallel to musician John Cage's infamous "4'33" " -- his 41/2-minute work of silence.

Richard Chartier similarly plays with the notion of visibility, and the drawn image, with his three drawings. "Reference 1, 2, 3" consists of pencil drawings that were erased and then painted over in white acrylic. Even after being erased vigorously, tiny vestiges of the initial marks are still visible. Some artworks, after all, are hard to get rid of.

A far more sincere and formal counterpoint is Abi Spring's painting, "Wet," which depicts evanescent yellow-white strands on a lavender-white backdrop. The high-process painting has the luminous, veined quality of ivory or pale skin.

Each of these works implores the viewer to step closer and to adjust the eyes. Some, however, ask the viewer to listen closely and tap the ears.

In "One stone / and Arcs and Ears," Steve Roden offers a sonic analogue to Donovan's and Chartier's works. He's removed the human voices from the soundtrack of Robert Bresson's film, "Proces de Jeanne d'Arc," replacing the dialogue with the sound of footsteps, ambient music and the crackling of the record itself. Like Donovan's drawing, Roden's piece conjures the random philosophy of Cage's music, a philosophy that found kinship in the equally chance-based choreography of Cage's partner, Merce Cunningham.

One of the show's most impressive works is Michael Paulus' "Tabernacle," a black cabinet with a frosted-glass front. Inside the cabinet, a light glows, illuminating a vague pink form that, like the suitcase from "Pulp Fiction," inspires curiosity. The cabinet is slightly ajar, thus allowing viewers a peek: The pink form resembles a sacred relic, maybe an enclosed heart.

As Paulus' cabinet glows, in another part of the gallery, light bulbs flash and click. That's Ted Apel's "Potential Difference," another conceptual work that's a metaphor for creative collaboration. In this work that features photographs and written descriptions of Pierre Curie and Thomas Edison -- both of whom contributed to the discovery and application of electricity -- some light bulbs flash while others emit soft clicks. The clicks are determined by the luminosity of the flashing bulbs.

Obviously, there's much more to this show than this space allows. But one important thing: As in his previously curated show, last June's "Grey/Area," Norris is ultimately using the individual works to produce an atmosphere and state an aesthetic -- a cool, sterile, minimalist atmosphere. In a way, the entire show is really one big installation, parts of which can be seen, and parts of which can't.

June 5, 2006

Beauty To The Max, Minimally

by D.K. Row

At the Guestroom Gallery this month, beauty rises, assuming its sleekest, most seductive minimal forms.

Local artist and curator TJ Norris has assembled his dream team of artists with "Grey/Area," an ambitious group exhibit that gathers 25 predominantly low-key, well-burnished paintings, works on paper, photographs and sculpture by 13 artists --eight from Portland, two from Washington and one each from Los Angeles, San Francisco and Vancouver, B.C.

All curators embrace beauty in some form, but for Norris, a conceptual artist and curator with resume highlights that stretch from Portland to his native Boston, it assumes almost heroic dimensions. For Norris, beauty rules.

It's also a particular kind of beauty: With "Grey/Area," the 40-year-old curator has assembled one of the most sublime showcases of polished, minimalist-inspired and mostly neutral-colored work in recent memory. It's also a show that happens to reveal a larger implication about the ecology of local artists and galleries.

The exhibit's title is as intriguing as its curatorial statement, in which the peripatetic Norris describes the show as a "lateral examination of minimal details." But give the nonsensical prose a light glance. Norris isn't sculpting a narrative about a prevailing contemporary art trend; "Grey/Area" is themeless in that regard. There's little in common between Scott Wayne Indiana's sloppy, 200-page-plus guerrilla book-collage using photos of actress Elizabeth Taylor, for instance, and Laura Fritz's silicone sculptural approximation of a scientific experiment that has the shimmering of an undisturbed pool of water.

Instead, Norris offers a take on significant West Coast artists, some of whom also happen to be among the local scene's most under-represented talents.

Still, a few common threads are apparent even in a casual eyeballing of the show's layout. Norris likes subtle, clean, reductive work that has its musical equivalent in ambient soundscapes. He's also drawn to art with hints of performance and theater, like Indiana's collage.

In Ellen George's sculptural fantasies, for example, the artist has amazingly conjured cities and worlds made up of tiny forms the shape of spools of thread, cones and organic forms. Forming polymer clay into pieces that have the rubbery appearance of Gummi Bears, George's work embodies a sought-after Norris trait: This is hypnotic, calculated-to-be-mysterious work rooted in abstract minimalism.

Even in the show's few figurative pieces, such as Ty Ennis' works on paper exploring the aches of the human heart, less is the rule. The mark of the hand is spare and slight in Ennis' skilled drawings that tackle alienation and angst common on MySpace.com. His postadolescent ruminations have the daintiness of the feather on a Victorian quill.

Norris has included in the show four artists whose works are based in photography, including himself. While each addresses different themes and interests, they collectively share a post-1970s idea regarding photographic practice: There's no classic documentary work here, just lots of gray-colored fragmentation. Norris takes digital prints of street signs and the sides of buildings to create multipaneled works that look like abstract paintings; Chris Komater and Jamie Drouin deconstruct the human body and sea forms, respectively, into unrecognizable abstractions; while Daniel Barron similarly offers his own Rorschach-style guessing game with queasy, nonrepresentative forms distorted through software technology.

In 2002, Norris opened a now-defunct gallery in the Everett Station Lofts called Soundvision, where he highlighted artists who incorporated elements of sound, performance and video with traditional media. That interactive legacy is on view here, especially with the work of J.Frede and David Eckard. Frede's constructed a musical horn that looks like an installation made by the seminal music artist Christian Marclay. Push the red button on the white box and a horn sound emits --loudly. Eckard's installation of a panel fixed over a burner is a nifty idea. Once lit, the burner makes smoky marks on the panel. Nearby are the results of such an experiment: six panels dusted with smoky, ghostly designs.

An art exhibit wouldn't be interesting without a moment of wild contrast. And there's a wonderful example of contrasting tension in "Grey/Area." Besides his Elizabeth Taylor collage, Indiana's other work is a woefully amateurish painting that apes too much the Abstract Expressionism of Cy Twombly. It's probably the only piece in the show that's a mess, the one lapse in Norris' aesthetic choices.

The painting's especially painful to see when it's compared to Abi Spring's gorgeous abstraction, a process-heavy painting whose many layers could be read as a metaphor for experience, isolation and endurance. Called "White Peace," the heavily textured light blue surface suggests the hushed intensity of a Mark Rothko painting or the elegant simplicity of a minimalist work by Agnes Martin. Norris has even reserved a serene place for the painting, placing it alone at the far end of the gallery space, where it is lit by a small single light.

Norris embraces the technical and artistic gulf between Indiana and Spring. Though Indiana is inexperienced, Norris likes his energy and wants to chart his evolution.

Which leads to another compelling point about this wonderful exhibit. "Grey/Area" is one more stunning example of how local artists aren't getting the kind of commercial gallery exposure they deserve. Of the eight Portland artists, only George and Eckard are represented by high-end dealers. The rest have been working prolifically but without secure gallery representation --though Ennis has exhibited at The New American Art Union, a relatively new space for emerging artists, and Spring recently had a solo show at Chambers, a downtown venue that exhibits artists but does not represent them.

That's one reason why Norris put this exhibit together. Sometimes, curators play the role of artistic swamis, grasping trends or divining the future by discovering talent. Other times they play the role of instigator, challenging the art-world establishment to push further and higher.

Sure, "Grey/Area" is Norris' big nod to beauty. But it's also his provocation to a commercial gallery system that's been unable to adequately track the scene's influx of serious artists during the past several years. With this showcase of flickering installation burners, loud horns and spiritual abstractions, Norris is asking dealers: What will you do to keep up with us?

February 2, 2006

Artists get an alternative

Portland Modern magazine is introducing new artists to the city's galleries

What: Works by Craig Payne, TJ Norris, Mariana Tres and Marc Manning at the Portland Art Center Annex; works by Holly Andres and Andrew Myers at Ogle

Where: Portland Art Center Annex, 32 N.W. Fifth Ave.; Ogle, 310 N.W. Broadway

Hours: The art center is open noon-6 p.m. Thursday-Saturday; Ogle is open 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday Closes: Feb. 25

For the past several years, the Portland art world has been bustling with newly arrived creative talent from across the nation, artists and creative types who have turned an already unclassifiable art scene into an even more idiosyncratic one.

But this infusion of pining, ambitious artists also has unearthed one of the art world's fault lines: the dearth of serious galleries and exhibition opportunities.

"As far as good professional representation is concerned, there are more artists than galleries can handle at this point," says dealer Charles Froelick of the Froelick Gallery, one of Portland's top-tier venues.

That's proved the catalyst for a part-time high school teacher and gallery assistant, Mark Brandau. Inspired by events revealing Portland's new depths of artistic activity -- including 2003's Modern Zoo and Core Sample shows -- the restless Brandau decided to dive into the world of publishing, even though he had no prior experience in it.

A few thousand dollars in credit card debt later, his self-published color catalog, Portland Modern, is evolving into a local art world staple, a niche-marketing vehicle for local artists. Published twice a year and complemented by exhibits at Portland-area venues, the free catalog has become a do-it-yourself case study in a city so rich with such stories that the term "DIY" has become a cliche.

But the seriousness of Brandau's intentions distinguishes his grass-roots effort from others: He wants to champion artists starving for exposure, artists whose collective hunger also reveals the local art world's need for more first-rate galleries and a nurturing atmosphere.

"If you aren't an artist with the voice of a gallery fighting for you," Brandau says, "then what are your options?"

Tonight, the artists publicized in the current, and third, issue of Portland Modern take over two Old Town venues: The Portland Art Center Annex, where drawings by Marc Manning, photographic diptychs by TJ Norris, conceptual art by Mariana Tres and photos by Craig Payne will be on view; and Ogle, where installation work by Holly Andres and drawings by Andrew Myers will be exhibited.

Like the previous 17 artists from the first two issues, the six on view were chosen through the tried and tested process of many group shows: mail-in submissions with slides. The entries were whittled down to the six artists. Given the open nature of the submission process, the art at the two galleries promises to vary wildly in temperament and media. Works on paper will mix freely with video- and installation-based pieces. Traditional media, like photography, will sometimes be used in ways that turn over conventions of pure representation.

So, too, does experience range wildly. Andres, for instance, graduated from the University of Montana in 2002 and is still filling out a resume, while the 40-year-old Norris has shown and curated extensively since 1989.

Despite differences in background and artistic focus, the diverse group shares one compelling characteristic typical of many of the 23 artists Brandau has highlighted so far: All of the artists were born outside of Oregon, and except Payne, who came to Portland in 1991, each arrived in the Rose City after 1999. Brandau, who was raised in the St. Louis area and went to college at Southern Illinois University, has lived here for nine years.

Brandau receives a small percentage of sales from artwork sold through the catalog or exhibits. But Portland Modern, he says, is not meant to be a money-making venture for him. Its dominant purpose is to publicize unknown artists to Northwest area galleries, collectors and curators. There's no editorial content, only reproductions of several artworks along with artist statements and biographical information. Production costs for the handsome color catalog are funded through artist submission fees, sponsors, which are mostly galleries, and Brandau's credit card.

After selecting the artists for the first catalog, Brandau tapped art historian Sue Taylor and artist-writer Pat Boas to choose artists for the second and third issues, respectively. Artist Kristan Kennedy and writer Matthew Stadler have been chosen to helm the fourth installment around the idea of saturation.

With its good production values and promotional concept, the catalog and Brandau are drawing praise from local curators such as Stephanie Snyder. "One of the important issues he's addressing is having the work reach collectors and others," she says. Snyder wonders, however, about the long-term results of such a strategy. "My question is whether these exhibits result in sales or further shows. Have any Portland galleries picked up these artists?"

More than half the artists have exhibited with greater frequency since their appearance in the catalog; one artist from the first issue, Ryan Pierce, even landed gallery representation as a result of the publication and shows, Brandau says. He says he believes that low percentage will increase once Portland Modern achieves deeper traction with collectors and dealers.

But before that happens, Brandau may need to resolve issues of quality. The work chosen by Brandau and his curators may be expansive, but it's also terribly uneven.

"There are times when the work looks better in print than in person," says Froelick, who says Brandau is handicapped by his lack of time and budget to hire curators who could go out into the community and make selections based on studio visits.

There are also eyebrow-raising elements of the production: One of the artists picked by Brandau for the first catalog was his wife, Kim McKenna.

"I asked her to submit the work," Brandau says. "I honestly felt that her work was worthy. So it wasn't pure nepotism."

Brandau says that artist response to the catalog and shows have been overwhelmingly positive, but he says the Portland Modern model of exposing artists is only a partial salve for the local art world's lack of serious artist representation. The numbers behind the project, however, suggest it is an increasingly successful one. Sponsorship from galleries has doubled since the first issue. More artists are applying for selection and distribution has increased from 3,500 copies for the initial catalog to 6,000 for the third; 10,000 copies are planned for the fourth issue.

Still, despite growth and the cultivation of outside curators to weed through submissions, Brandau says he's not going to change things too much. He's still going to publish and show exhibits twice a year. He's also going to remain true to the publication's street roots -- at least until he gets tired of charging money to his credit card.

"In the long run, it'd be nice to make a small living from it," says Brandau, who still teaches occasionally and works other odd jobs to pay the bills. "Right now, it's a lot of work and a little bit of debt. But I'm up for it."

D.K. Row: 503-294-7654 or dkrow@news.oregonian.com

January 20, 2006

D.K.'s Hot Sheet

Artist and curator TJ Norris frequently updates his blog, "Is It Art?," with astute observations, features and announcements on the week's openings. Like Port, it's written from an insider's point of view (The blog is unrelated to The Oregonian newspaper's editorial content.)

October 21, 2005

D.K.'s Hot Sheet

Portland Modern's third issue is available at galleries and other locations. And once again Mark Brandau has done a wonderful job producing a full-color booklet that highlights work by unknown artists. Artist and writer Pat Boas curated the selections for the third issue, giving nods to six artists, four of whom work with photography or video: Holly Andres, Marc Manning, Andrew Myers, TJ Norris, Craig Payne and Mariana Tres.

With the publication of this latest issue, Brandau also announces a change: Beginning with the fourth issue, one issue a year will be curated around a specific theme and open to artists of all experience levels, not only under-represented artists. The new curatorial approach is one that should keep the publication lively and prevent it from being a one-note showcase for little-known artists.

For details on the current issue and information on how to submit for the next one, go to www.portlandmodern.org. - D.K. Row

October 7, 2005

"Fresh Trouble" Only two more days to get into trouble. Indie curator Jeff Jahn's latest endeavor, "Fresh Trouble," assembles local and international popular talent, including Bruce Conkle, TJ Norris, Mark Smith, Joe Macca and many more artists. Jahn even contributes art, a great, gloopy sand castle built from what he calls an "ancient Roman recipe for cement." There's little that's revelatory here if you tour the area's galleries regularly. But the consistent quality of the work, from traditional forms to idea-based work, affirms what Jahn has been shouting out in previous shows, essays and blog entries: Portland's got a lot of talent. 4246 S.E. Belmont St. Hours: Noon-5 p.m. Sat-Sun. Closes Oct. 9. Reviewed by Harvest Henderson on Sept. 30.

September 30, 2005

Here Comes Trouble

If you're looking for trouble this weekend -- the kind worth getting into -- Jeff Jahn has it for you. The indie curator's latest endeavor, "Fresh Trouble," is in a warehouse where local developers are on hiatus from construction, and though presentation (and seating) may be lacking at times, the work is solid.

Jahn has assembled a show that proves he attracts popular talent. The lineup includes Bruce Conkle's aluminum foil sculptures, Chandra Bocci's prickly, mini-forest of celebrity hair (picture the Tillamook Burn with $500 highlights), Matthew Picton's topographic map of an Antarctic Ocean chasm, Sean Healy's humorous take on the American midlife crisis, TJ Norris' tiny woodland clear cuts, and a meticulous, fabric-filled stadium by Mark Smith. There's even a great, gloopy sandcastle of Jahn's own making, built from what he calls an "ancient Roman recipe for cement."

Then there's the giant sausage.

Viewers can remove their shoes and -- two at a time -- force themselves into Patrick Rock's trailer-sized, inflatable hot dog, called "Simulacra-Hermaphrodite," through a slit near one end. It's a crude and playful take on gender representations. But like much of the show, it's lively and fun.

With his latest curated show, the insistent Jahn is trying once again to galvanize an art community he's embraced vociferously since arriving here in 1999 from Utah. And this time he has the ears of the country's art audience: National curators, collectors, artists and other art types are in town for the Affair @ The Jupiter Hotel and the opening of the Portland Art Museum's new Mark Building. Portland, Jahn insists, is the West Coast's emerging art scene and new talent magnet, even though its collecting base is still in the middle of adolescent pangs.

The exhibit may not seem terribly vital or revelatory to locals who make gallery rounds regularly. For example, the same Zack Kircher paintings on the wall here were up at Savage Art Resources just two months ago, and Joe Macca's fridge full of paper ephemera seems like a reprise of his successful July show at New American Art Union.

Jahn says his newest endeavor was easier to produce than his last warehouse show, "The Best Coast." But like his other exhibits, also set in temporary spaces, "Fresh Trouble" has a few presentational quirks. To navigate clearly around the impressive but unwieldy 10,000-square-foot, industrial venue of concrete and wooden beams, Jahn has given visitors a crude map of the two-room, biennial-style exhibit -- think of it as a treasure map.

"Fresh Trouble" is still a strong showcase of bright talent. Playing on a television set propped a half-inch off the floor by a piece of raw lumber and unceremoniously dangling power cords, Chinese artist Cao Fei's elaborate video installation "Cosplayers" is a cryptic fantasy featuring actors dressed like overzealous escapees from a Dungeons and Dragons role-playing game convention. Also impressive are Portlander Paige Saez's "I Miss You," a spinning, hiccuping two-parter on roller skates, and Matt McCormick's split-screen of images seen from a moving vehicle. Both videos speak to motion, change, and things learned and lost.

The show-stealer, though, may be a moody, back-room installation by Jahn's girlfriend, Laura Fritz. Behind a curtain, Fritz has assembled three specimen stations; the most captivating is a long, low-light box that appears to contain a cat. Through the milky, backlit plastic capping at one end of the box, the elegant silhouette of a cat preens and taps a paw, asking to be let out. The urge to tap back is overwhelming. Perhaps Fritz is referencing the famed physics analogy of Schrodinger's cat, which posited, in its most elementary terms, that a thing can exist and not exist at the same time.

Or maybe the trapped cat serves as an opportune metaphor through which Jahn can proselytize once more.

"Art doesn't survive," says Jahn, "unless you take time with it and want to take care of it." -

- Harvest Henderson

September 9, 2005

Fall Arts Guide - Best Bets

Oct. 13-Nov. 27: Works by TJ Norris and Randy Moe

Portland overflows with artists but lacks enough serious galleries giving them proper attention. So Wid Chambers' new new enterprise in the former Elizabeth Leach space downtown is a welcome addition to the art world. With Eva Lake directing programming, Chambers has already provided several talented artists with space and recognition, including collage artist Eunice Parsons. In October, curator and artist TJ Norris takes over part of the gallery with one big installation, while the enigmatic artist Randy Moe contributes portraits. Chambers, 207 SW Pine St, 503-939-2255. - D.K. Row

May 14, 2004

Kimba Kuzas In his essay on Kuzas' photographs, TJ Norris cites everyone from Edward Steichen to Dorothea Lange to Diane Arbus in describing Kuzas' work. There's also the influence of Garry Winogrand and other great street and documentary photographers from the 1950s and '60s in the two bodies of prints on view at the Angry Fairy Gallery. Both are called "Dark Ages." One is of landscapes and buildings, the other of people in landscapes and around buildings. Both capture a kind of creepy solitude: a train station is a moody blanket of shadows and darkness, though its neon light beams eerily, the only current of life within perhaps 50 miles. In another, a bride in white walks into what looks like an underground tunnel at a remote location, a refuge.

The show is subtitled "two collections of ironic documentary photographs," which suggests some of these photographs have been staged. That doesn't make them any less beautiful. But the hint of performance and stagecraft clarifies Kuzas' motives: to capture the picturesque. Angry Fairy Gallery is at 625 N.W. Everett St. #107.

-- D.K. Row

March 26, 2004

IN A HAZE OF SERIOUS FUN

Across the St. Johns Bridge, through two stoplights, down a steep hill and in the back of a '70s burnt-orange parking garage lies one of Portland's most original new art spots. It's called Haze Gallery, and it's not unusual for what it's doing -- hanging contemporary art, divvying out middling wine at monthly openings -- but for its currency and attitude in a scene that can sometimes feel stale.

The gallery is off the beaten path in more ways than its location. The mission statement for the 4-month-old Haze is an olley-olley-oxen-free for artists too unconventional for mainstream galleries. Curator Jack Shimko, a sculptor, was inspired by the ambitious, yet loose approach of the Modern Zoo, whose progenitors Gavin Shettler and Bryan Suereth cultivated a mammoth buzz (and some great parties) last fall with 100,000 square feet of exhibition space at the Cathedral Park Place complex."I thought, 'Let's try to keep this going,' " says Shimko. So he rented one of the open studio spaces in the St. Johns building. He had no curatorial experience and no financial footing for the venture, but he did have two friends who have helped manage the space and contributed money to start it: Leah Emkin and Randy Calvert.

Shimko's first curatorial effort at Haze was last November's "Battle of the Artist Curators," a wacky, expansive showcase of original pieces in varying media by independent curators such as TJ Norris and Jeff Jahn. "Battle" held court for two months before Portland indie art icon Nic Walker came in for January with what Shimko calls "clean-looking and monochromatic," large-scale, blown-up images of vintage cars.

Haze exploded with color again in February, exhibiting installations by Aili Schmeltz and Jesse Hayward that Shimko describes as "stitched, vinyl sculpture crawling all over the walls."

Shimko says artists and curators "have to keep throwing ourselves down avenues" of experimentation to move forward. "There'll be an explosion of trying something out, and then a focusing -- a tightening down," he says, explaining the eclecticism of his curatorial choices.

The current show, called "Counterpoint," features new work by Donna Avedisian and Melissa Smith. Smith presents figurative paintings that are sensual and rough, like a firm tango. She also displays a series of framed sketches, inky musings and figure studies. Avedisian's oil-on-wood "Sound Paintings," with titles such as "blo-pa-pap" and "woo-oo-uoo-woo-wa," contrast with Smith's in carefully veneered color studies: puce on tangerine, pinks, golds and opalescent blues in two- to three-color splatter combinations.

Both collections -- perhaps more Avedisian's audio-themed paintings than Smith's -- are complemented by an ambient, neoclassical soundtrack by Grammy-award-winning Los Angeles composer Philip Marshall. Shimko conceived of the musical angle and sent Marshall images of Smith's and Avedisian's work. The resulting score, "Eight Sketches for String Quartet," was performed live at the opening (and will be again at the closing) and is composed in layers to bounce and flow from speakers placed at the edges of the gallery.

Thoughtful, adventurous shows are bringing new faces to the gallery, Shimko says. He'll continue to sample experimental shows in the coming months -- Haze's next exhibit, for example, is New York artist Lindsay Bowdoin Key's "American Farm," which will cover the gallery's burnished hardwoods with bales of hay and other agrarian paraphernalia.

And, most of all, he'll continue to bring the sense of serious fun and unpredictability that's missing from an art scene that occasionally feels repetitive and staid.

"Now," Shimko says, pointing at the floor to emphasize his presence in the moment. "I'm having fun right now."

-- Harvest Henderson

February 27, 2004

D.K.'S HOT SHEET

Of special note: One of the highlights of RAW promises to be The Modern Zoo's "Disposable" exhibit. Six artists and artist groups -- Bruce Conkle, Kaosmosis, Brenda Mallory, TJ Norris, Rob Off and L. Aili Schmeltz -- have each been given a roll of plastic sheeting to make an artwork based on the theme of interaction. Hmmm. Reed College's Vollum Lounge from March 3 to 7.

-- D.K. Row

September 12, 2003

Resonant soundscapes shape 'Genometrics' installation exhibit by Morgan Currie

Step into Soundvision in the Everett Station Lofts and you'll hear tinny industrial noises that evoke a science lab rattling from an earthquake, or a thousand pins dropping inside a tunnel.

These discrete sounds form the sound element to four unique conceptual installations in "Genometrics," an exhibit by TJ Norris. The exhibit is unlike others offered this month in Portland galleries but is consistent with the tightly curated, high-quality shows the gallery (which is run by Norris) has offered the past 13 months. Those shows fused cutting-edge audio and visual media with a sparse style. It was exploratory, at times obscure, conceptual work absent in most of the city's commercial venues.

"Genometrics" is no different. Even the collaborative process is unconventional. Norris originally invited 10 sound-art composers to respond to a collection of photographs and accompanying word sketches he had produced over several months. Nine sent original audio pieces back to Norris, who then decided to exhibit three of the finished pieces along with his own installations in "Genometrics." (The remaining six sound pieces will be presented in two future exhibits that he will curate, one in Germany in 2004, another in Amsterdam in 2005.)

The current show features four installations by Norris accompanied by audio components by three internationally renowned sound-art groups: Illusion of Safety from Chicago, Humectant Interruption from New York and Beequeen from the Netherlands. The installations fill the main room, while a collection of nine photographs aligned in a single frame hangs on a back wall.

There's a lot of replication of shapes in these works, which Norris says was inspired by the replication of DNA in organisms. But the luminescent, minimalist forms do not make any obvious concrete statement beyond their own sensual shapes. A large, fiberglass box sits in the center of the room, with an interior strobe light that illuminates the silhouette of a giant strand of beads. Three transparent, plastic panes in the shape of tombstones or vintage consumer radios lean against the back wall and are lighted from behind. The strongest piece of the exhibit, subtitled, "bestesends," is a simple row of nine white globes each the size of a fist. Composed of beeswax and glycerin, two mediums that separate like oil and water when mixed, these repetitive globes give off their own subtle glow in an appealing contrast both to the box's overly bright strobe light and to the synthetic materials used in the other pieces.

Unfortunately, this exhibition is the gallery's last show -- Norris is closing his doors because of tough financial times. That's a loss for Portland. But watch for him in the future because he will continue to curate shows around town. He promises, "I am taking Soundvision on the road."

September 4, 2003

Soundvision: Curator T.J. Norris has assembled some of the city's most adventurous exhibits this past year at this gallery in the Everett Station Lofts. In November, Norris plans to close the venue, hoping to concentrate instead on his artwork. In what's likely to be the gallery's final exhibit, Norris presents a sampling of his multimedia art made with three artists who sound like Discovery Channel refugees: Beequeen, Illusion of Safety and Humectant Interruption. (625 N.W. Everett St. No. 108)

- D.K. Row

July 11, 2003

Two shows delve into works of two developing biennial artists

One of the disappointments of any biennial exhibit is that it's a group show that can provide only a modest glimpse of each artist's work.

But this month's new gallery shows present the opportunity to examine more deeply the work of two of the 26 artists selected for the 2003 Oregon Biennial.Those two artists are photographer Erik Palmer and painter and draftsman Mike Shea. Their impressive solo exhibits -- Palmer's at Soundvision, Shea's at Froelick Gallery -- suggest that curator Bruce Guenther picked two artists worthy of recognition, though their best and most fulfilling work has yet to be made.

ERIK PALMER

For nearly two years Palmer has worked on a series of photographs inspired by his love of comic book heroes. Palmer says he has shot about 200 rolls of film for the project, called "Bang Comics!," though only a handful of prints have been made: the two featured in the biennial and the several works on view at Soundvision.

The tongue-in-cheek project features Palmer and other subjects photographed as superheroes, though not in the conventional sense. Shunning capes and masks and situations where the subjects are leaping tall buildings in a single bound, Palmer has photographed naked torsos and writhing thighs and legs. The agile bodies usually are captured in a forested setting: the sun blazing between the scissor spaces of legs and arms, they look like they're streaking through the woods.

The 39-year-old Palmer says he's trying to avoid literal interpretations in these pictures, offering instead a visual metaphor for the challenges and joys that such fictionalized heroes face -- "both the hardships and the ecstasy of super heroics," he writes in his artist statement. They're action pictures.

Palmer also had most of the photographs printed on canvas material by Pushdot Studio, thus lending them a pebbly tactility, a substance and heft akin to a cut-out cardboard figure, rather than a two-dimensional picture hanging on a wall.

Palmer is a commercial photographer who specializes in stock work of athletes, dancers and other lithe, fit subjects. Most of his pictures have a subtle erotic charge -- the frisson of watching sinuous, lean, graceful bodies.

His fine art work carries a similar charge. But it's important that most of the photos in the Soundvision show are of Palmer -- he says he's yet to print many of the pictures of other subjects. Palmer may be making an homage to the nature of superheroics, but these photographs are ultimately about the power of self-image within a culture obsessed with image. One work is a series of smaller photos of Palmer assembled into a larger grid canvas, like a billboard or a photographic version of a Chuck Close painting. Superheroes, too, have to wrestle with issues of physicality and self-approval.

For Palmer, who has limited experience exhibiting fine art, the biennial is a modest career booster. And like his comic book project, he's still a work in progress -- one well worth keeping tabs on.

- D.K. Row

July 3, 2003

ART REVIEW CRITIC'S PICKS THE MONTHLY ART WALK ONCE AGAIN FEATURES THE PROMISE...

Soundvision: Like Shea, photographer Erik Palmer was also selected for the biennial and has a new show this month. Best-known for his commercial work featuring nudes, athletes and dancers, Palmer's exhibit -- "Bang Comics!" -- is a series of sensuous portraits inspired by "the physical, choreographic and emotional landscape of superheroes. . . ." (625 N.W. Everett St. No. 108)

- D.K. Row

July 2003

(at Soundvision) The tongue-in-cheek Bang Comics! project features Palmer and other subjects photographed as superheroes, though not in the conventional sense. Shunning capes and masks and situations where the subjects are leaping tall buildings at a single bound, Palmer has photographed naked torsos and writhing thighs and legs. The agile bodies usually are captured in a forest setting: the sun blazing between the scissor spaces of legs and arms, they look like they're streaking through the woods... Most of his pictures have a subtle erotic charge - the frisson of watching sinuous, lean, graceful bodies. - D.K. Row_

June 27, 2003

PASSION AND VITALITY

Cathartic spaceships

Kirk P. Linder writes that the paintings in his new show at Soundvision are "about feeling & purging emotions. . . . The images are a result of my catharsis."

That implies an explosion of energy and emotion, or something like it. But what distinguishes his series of paintings are their utter quiet and reserve. They promise to roar, but instead they purr.

Linder calls these works paintings, but they more closely resemble wood assemblages. Blocks and fragments of wood have been assembled into mostly rectangular shaped pieces that are painted one color. Each series is Crayola-style orange, blue or green.

There are tiny compartments and spatial separations between the assembled blocks and fragments, which when viewed on the wall from a distance suggest everything from partially finished exposed brick, the relief wood sculptures of the late Louise Nevelson, to the plastic foam-style exteriors of the spaceships in "Star Wars."

But while the late Nevelson's sculptures were influenced by her immersion in African art and the murals of Mexican artist Diego Rivera, and the spaceships from "Star Wars" by packaging material, it's not clear what moves Linder. There is something very formal about these works, something utterly contained, even repressed. They retain a curious, compelling power. One weaves in and out of the winding terrain of crevices, cracks and potholes -- you're following a trail of sourceless emotions.

Linder could have cathartically turned these assemblages into loud statements full of color, fury and emotion. Instead, he's opted for the silent and sublime, echoing Nevelson, who once said: "A whisper can be stronger, as an atom is stronger, than a whole mountain."

D.K.ROW

May 11, 2003

Summary: The Pearl District may be growing too rich for the galleries that drew throngs to it, but that doesn't mean edgy art is dead

When Tracy Savage, dealer of one of Portland's most artistically challenging galleries, decided to close her Pearl District gallery last month because of a poor economy and sagging retail sales, a dark thought rumbled through the Portland art world: The Pearl District -- the leading symbol of the city's thriving art scene -- is dead.

Most of all, there's the sheer variety of art on view throughout the city. In a given month, viewers can see conceptual installations at Soundvision in the Everett Station Lofts, abstract paintings by Michael Dailey at Laura Russo Gallery in Northwest Portland, and any number of cheeky artworks at the Lawrence Gallery.....

-- D.K. Row

January 2003 (from annual A&E Top 10 Issue)

"(Soundvision) One of the Top 10 Best Places in Portland" - D.K. Row

January 9, 2003

CRITIC'S PICKS

Soundvision: One of the city's newest galleries already is one of the best and most adventurous. East Coast transplant and Soundvision director TJ Norris makes no bones about his salon-style exhibit featuring the work of more than 100 artists: He needs to pay the rent. For those with enough post-Christmas padding in their wallets, there will likely be some good buys. That said, the show features some of the best talent the Pearl District has never heard of: Bruce Conkle, Michael Oman-Reagan, Julie Orser, Muriel Bartol and more. (625 N.W. Everett St. No. 108).

-- D.K. Row

January 24, 2003

The Oregonian Arts & Events News: Making a name and paying the rent_

Making a name and paying the rent. There's a wealth of activity going on in the low-rent, artists-run Everett Station Lofts, where Michael Oman-Reagan, TJ Norris and, until recently, Gavin Shettler have been directing galleries that offer the city's best low-fi adventures in art.

Beginning Friday, Norris will be holding a fund-raiser to keep things going at his fantastic venue, Soundvision. On selected days in the next two weeks, Norris will showcase 100 two-dimensional works by 100 artists, including some of the scene's more talented, if unknown, locals: Patrick Puopolo, Julie Orser, Meg Rowe, Muriel Bartol.

Soundvision, 625 N.W. Everett St., No. 108; 1-6 p.m. Jan. 24, 25, 31_and Feb. 1; 6-9 p.m. Feb. 6. - D.K. Row

December 20, 2002

ARTIST'S STAB AT SELF-REFLECTION SHADES INTO SELF-INDULGENT CRITIQUE

In art, as in life, there's nothing wrong with a little mystery, something to keep viewers guessing and pages turning.

But some artists just can't help themselves. Like the happy hour reveler, they want to confess everything.Which brings us to New York artist Cary Leibowitz, whose first Portland show, titled "faggy faggy boom boom," is on view at Soundvision in the Everett Station Lofts. In a series of latex paintings and fabricated commercial multiples, such as pins, wastebaskets and rain ponchos, Leibowitz offers a polished storybook of his deepest psychological anxieties, blemishes and doubts.

Leibowitz's show is about how the artist sees himself: a bundle of nerves, a self-loathing Jew, a homosexual, a manic-depressive. "Self-esteem is for lovers," reads the one-line mantra on a button that sells for $50.

Pilfering from Marcel Duchamp and emulating the textual musings of conceptual artist Jenny Holzer, Leibowitz uses his self-reflections to validate self-indulgence as a form of critique: Look, Ma, I hate myself, but I'm making Art.

The artist's rants are not without charm. Taking a postcard of one of photo-realist sculptor Duane Hanson's lifelike tableaux, "Woman With Dog, Reading," Leibowitz writes in black marker at the top: "I My Loser Son." Ouch.

On and on it goes.
This is an story of the self told relentlessly, a diary of self-immolation, but cubed with a twist. All of the exhibit's 10 paintings feature the words "faggy faggy boom boom," but painted over different fields of bold, bright color. Get the point?

It's tiring and not too revelatory after a while, either about the artist or about the larger world. We're led to believe, for example, that Leibowitz is also pinching the larger cultural nerve, offering a backhanded critique on the nature of consumerism through his slick throwaway items, some of which are expensive for what little they are. The cheapest item, the postcard, is $15.

But why buy someone else's problems?

-- D.K. ROW

December 5, 2002

Critic's picks

Soundvision: He hasn't been here long, but Boston artist and curator TJ Norris has brought great excitement and acute vision to the gallery scene in his newly adopted city. This month, he ups the ante with what will surely be a provocative show by painter Cary Leibowitz. The New York artist has an unsparing streak of self-loathing.

Leibowitz shows new minimalist paintings that feature provocative, textual missives, mostly aimed at himself. And if this fragment from the artist's statement is an indication, viewers should be prepared for some mental and visual gymnastics: "I feel art has a bad rap these days -- it's not a miracle worker -- it's a Band-Aid for our scabs (DO NOT PICK) . . ." (625 N.W. Everett St., No. 108)