Art hurts
How the timing of a gorgeous installation turned resiliency into betrayal
I’m a Downtown New Yorker and I love culture. I traipse far and wide to look at new sculpture unveilings, free gallery openings, and public theater performances. I am on all the mailing lists, so I knew that as part of the City’s post-pandemic renewal plans there had been a call for NYC-based visual artists to submit works on the theme of Resiliency. (My neighbor had even applied — you should check out her wonderful work in oils.)
Lately, it is only the arts that reliably get me out the door. My typical local haunts have all closed, Amish Market, Zeytuna, Century 21, Modell’s, even Staples, all have shut their doors forever. Every time I go out, there’s a new string of for lease realtor signs where there used to be merchandise.
So imagine my thrill when the old C-21 storefront replaced the locked grates and plyboard that had been gathering street soot since September 2020 with….something new? a gallery? Was a museum or a gallery opening up across the street from me?
I went to look, heart leaping. But no, this was just… pretty paintings. And then I got so angry. The art was wonderful — an image of a group of harmless, faceless brown people waiting around on a thick, hauntingly blue background facing away from the rectangle of light that could be their end or their salvation, the silhouette of a solitary young Black teen surrounded by gentle chaos and daylight or moonlight circling them without cease , and two vibrant and complimentary abstract paintings one in Century21 red, one a Caribbean blue that echoed the group painting — but the art was entirely unattributed.
It shocked me. Not even the artists’ names were printed near the art, much less their Instagram handles, or the titles of the pieces. I made the assumption that this was the Resiliency exhibit that my neighbor had been so excited about and I flew into an irate rage, the sort of thing I had felt as every one of these stores had collapsed under the weight of the pandemic. Why weren’t the artists given credit? Was this what they had worked for? To be seen but not known? It was appalling! Outrageous! Preposterous!
I felt betrayal on behalf of these unnamed artists, betrayal that was mixed in with the fact that I had been tricked into thinking that my formerly favorite store had reopened or at least that the space was occupied by a new business. Seeing something new in these windows made me realize that I had been studiously avoiding this side of the street, the way one passes by a gruesome injury with eyes averted (once it is clear that that someone else has already called an ambulance). Before it closed, C21 was the landmark I would refer to when giving directions to my home. After it closed, I erased the beloved store in the way one would erase a severed arm, blocking its absence out as too terrible to think about, and irrelevant now since it was anyway gone.
This is something I learned to do 20 years ago when my beloved Borders Bookstore vanished in a pile of more important rubble.
These feelings stemmed from the fact that I had relied upon these local stores for office supplies, clothing, last-minute gifts, tableware, and they had all closed suddenly, without notice, leaving me bereft. It echoed the shock, fear, and suddenness of the WTC buildings collapsing. Losing a building or a longterm landmark is not like losing a human, but it results in a sort of disconnected, woozy feeling, as if you were a flower and someone snipped you free of your roots. The signless Resiliency art show didn’t do what it was intended to do: make me feel stronger or proud or the least bit resilient — instead it made me realize what a hair’s breadth I was away from complete collapse. I was close to writing a letter to the editor.
You know you’re really on edge when you consider writing a letter to the editor.
The art was lovely though, unattributed as it was, you felt that someone had curated the shapes and colors into a complimentary unit. The art was gentle, hopeful. Pain or loneliness was in each piece, but also a kind of acceptance; as if each artist had come to terms with the emotion that had inspired the artwork.
Later that night, I attended a lecture in a gallery at the Society of Lithuanian Americans (SLA) Art in midtown (307 W 30th) which energized me. The lecture by NYC sociology professor Judith Sedaitis was introduced as “helping us learn to think critically” and presented a slide show of anti-feminist advertising imagery from the 1980s and 90s juxtaposed with equally anti-feminist advertising imagery from this past week. This lecture and discussion happened to be held in a space that housed a wonderfully fresh folk-art exhibit by Lithuanian artists living locally.
On my way home, I passed another jarring storefront with unattributed art: this time inside the Fulton Center. Three pieces hung where there used to be a popular wine store. My initial doubletake was full of hope (“Is something new opening?”) but turned to dry disgust when I saw that here too, there was art but it was unattributed. There wasn’t even a sign mentioning the art exhibit’s name.
But friends, this story ends well. Today (three days after hanging the curated paintings) they have returned to hang the marketing signage. Century 21 now boasts a large announcement that not only explains the exhibit, but has a QR code so that you can buy the art from the artists directly should you be so inclined.
There’s a whole walk that you can do with the aid of maps or your phone. And you can even hear the artists tell the stories of their work. 100% of sales go directly to the artists. It’s kind of…magical.
The moral of this story is that public art is good, and human patience is necessary. I should have trusted the Downtown Alliance which generally has a great eye for public art and a wonderful desire to place it in unusual locations. You’ll be pleased to know that this art is now fully attributed and even well-lit after dark.
The Gallery Walk will be open from September 7th through November 28th. Plenty of time for me to unwind and forget that I was ever angry with the organizers for not attributing the art to the artist. It doesn’t even officially open for another week. That’s what I get for noticing everything all the time.
Maybe we can take an art walk together later this Fall. Me? I’d like that.
