Shortly after I moved back to the Pike/Pine corridor, I started noticing how this little storefront next to Sal's Barbershop had really interesting things to look at. I’d walk past hurriedly on my way to somewhere else and make a mental note to come back, but every time I came back I had to peer in the window because chances were I was late to another thing and I’d curse under my breath for lack of time. It’s the story of my life, the need to slow down.

I remember one particularly arresting show of portraits I wanted to inspect more closely, and I also remember noticing every time I walked by there were people hanging out together, inside and out, laughing—obviously a tight knit group. I remember feeling a sense of approval, that this is what places showing art should be like. Well that gallery is called pun(c)tuation, and you really need to spend some time there and this is why (and I'm an out-of-practise blogger so this is a total ramble):

In the last couple of years, Capitol Hill has forged a small art presence, on the edge of what I hope is a boom.  Grey Gallery (now on hiatus) was the first, followed by Vermillion, to combine efforts of a community hangout (read, BAR), gallery space, and music. I agree with this strategy and want more. While Grey is gone for the time being, the combined efforts of Amanda Manitach and the folks at The Living Room have brought art to their intimate high-ceilinged space with their first opening, It Is Happening Again, a solo show by Joey Veltkamp. And while Crawl Space is now a distant memory, Ghost Gallery has revived what I found to be an awkward but endearing space to have a show; complete with enclosed lawn, people spilling out into the street, and an impromptu barbeque. 

Which brings us back to pun(c)tuation. It’s an artist’s cooperative, opened November of last year, and seems to find that beautiful combination of fine art, craft, and folk roots to bring us colorful, intricate, process-based works by artists. Their statement says simply:

 
A co-operatively owned mixed use space

Focused on sustainable consumption

A home to all seekers of good taste

Incubator for Making and Doing

 We are here to do one thing and one thing only: Share

Come partake

 
I like this newly surfacing verbiage, of calling one’s self a maker, a tinkerer, a cobbler. It’s come to my attention through various conversations that while we understand we’re artists making art, it doesn’t always sit very well, nor does it taste quite right. When confronted with that prickly question of “what do you do” and answering “I’m an artist” I have to find some negotiable way of also saying “no, I’m not a painter or a sculptor, I make large scale paper shit that hangs from floor to ceiling made to look like soft fur but that also feels slightly dangerous and before you ask, no, nothing ever sells” and that’s a cumbersome way to introduce yourself. Rather perhaps I could say “I’m a maker of things”.
 
So this month’s featured maker is Stacey Rozich, a local artist with Slavic roots. Her imagery is rich and intriguing in the way that only creatures from the dreams Croatia can be. Sparking a memory, her work is evocative of another Slavic-inspired artist, Rachel Budde, who’s pro-cum-ant-agonists have become ever darker, bleeding over the fringe of our subconscious if only to remind us that those monsters are real and actual mirrors of ourselves. The difference is just that – Rozich’s creatures are more friendly reflections; perhaps ourselves in costume as more sinister archetypes. They cross over with Gala Bent’s strange menagerie; they bear two or too many legs, fur, aren’t quite right but aren’t terrifying beasts of the psyche.

Rozich’s own pull towards the irresistible allure of creatures and folklore has led her to pursue images and stories outside of the former Yugoslavia and delve into the worlds of Russia, Scandanavia, West Africa, and Native American mythology. Through her work, we see the threads which combine the elements of human fears, dreams, and storytelling.

Perhaps reminders are simply there to gently inspire us to do or be better, and don’t need to be so frightful as to make us look away. In sensing my own trend towards faerie tale inspired mythology and folklore, I’ve noticed a pull towards the quietly abject: long soft falls of hair, patterned swaths of fur, triangles for teeth, and a consistent recurring theme of danger belied by beauty. I don’t really know why so many of us are going there but I know it’s frankly irresistible.

Patterns of Renewal by Stacey Rozich opens tonight at Pun(c)tuation,  8pm-11pm @ 705A East Pike Street, Seattle WA 98122 and will be up through August 18 2010 

First of all, before I start gushing about how far Cornish College of the Arts has come since well, ever; but at least since I've returned to Seattle, I have One. Small. Request.

Dear Cornish, please do your graduating students a favour and level the playing field - paint that black wall white. 

Alright here it is. There's a huge space in South Lake Union. The graduating class gets to use it. Inside, once you get past the ridiculously cramped entrance, it's stellar and gorgeous with sweeping high ceilings in some places and a lush uber-pro gallery feel in most places. It's the perfect venue for these fledgling artists to show off their work in the way they deserve. But unlike (oh god, here it comes) my graduating class who painted their own floors, hung the clip-on-lights (perilous ladders over fragile paper installations!) and who painted their own walls if they wanted some funky colour (always under advice to think about it first); there is now a crew who does it for them. I personally feel this robs students of the critically important experience and perspective gained from putting a show together from the ground up. 

[edit] Hold up, I'm totally wrong about something. Claire Johnson, SOIL member and exhibition director extraordinaire works her ass off for Cornish to help get this exhibition running smoothly and looking good. She says students do some of the gruntwork, painting, etc. I acquiesce my point above, but I'm sticking to my guns on the theatrics.

Alors! Apparently, the crew is from the theater department. This theatrical attention is expressly given to the Black Room and it shows. Given I've already used the word "theatrical" you can imagine it is that. What about the rest of the rooms and hallway, and oh my, the more cramped ones upstairs? Some might suffer. That's the way it goes, but I'm hoping those who craved more intimate spaces got them, and visa versa. It's only my opinion, but I have to say that two years in a row, the OMGWOW when you walk into the Black Room almost completely overshadows the work on the wall, and in the end it wouldn't matter what was there, it would look good and I don't trust it. For me, this potentially places anyone not in the Black Room at a tremendous disadvantage, and even for a graduating class as strong and cohesive as the last two, this is bad news. 

So enough of that, here's the good news - this show has real impact. There's enough amazing art that I actually didn't catch everything on my camera, which made me sad, sad but it meant I was participating! There's a lot of great stuff! All the video work was incredibly strong and captivating to watch and I was so happy to see people playing with the medium.The students and their work are intellectual, smart, and thoughtful. Each artist I stopped to speak with had insightful things to say on what they've built and though they were dazed they held up and came across as professional. Many of them directly referenced past and contemporary art history in their work and conversation, and had a lot of clarity (not to say they're/we're not uncertain or confused on some things) and crafted opinions about the environment they'll be moving into. Most of the work in the Black Room would be good no matter what the colour of the walls. And the work upstairs is not ill-presented and suffering.

These are smart young artists stepping off a cliff into the unknown. Let me tell you something - we are all of us every day, stepping into the unknown. These guys just happen to get a real good chance to do it with bang and with style. And no matter how harsh I've been on my Alma Mater in the past, it doesn't change the fact that I have love for this school, and want to see it and all its graduates succeed. I want to see these artists pour  into the scene with passion and vigour. I want to see Seattle grow because she's self leveling, self sustaining, taking care of and nurturing herself.


I think I said it best when I said this: 

I want the students to break free. I want them to delve into what terrifies them and come out the other side. I want them to stop fighting the medium and hiding in the comfort of safe ideas. I want them to step outside of their minimum daily requirement of past and contemporary art history and go to First Thursday, Portland galleries, and Vancouver. I want them to get out of the rut which seems to haunt me with the memory of what Seattle art used to be, look like, taste like. Or at least get better at it if they're going to do it.

Dear gradating class of 2009. Don't be scared.Get the hell out there and transform, grow, and do things. Read. Write. Engage, participate and challenge.

So do it. All of us. Together. I'm [We're] right [t]here with you.


The 2010 Cornish BFA Show runs through Saturday 29 May, so hurry! You have 2 Saturdays and a bunch of weekdays! 
12-5pm Mon-Sat
9th Ave Studios
427 9th Ave N