WHEN I moved to Brussels to open my gallery, I found a large home with commercial ground floor space and living up above. De-centralized from the downtown arts district, I found myself located in a predominately Turkish and Moroccan neighbourhood with a couple of aging Belgian families too old to relocate or too stubborn to move like some already lost Alamo battle against the rising tide of immigration washing upon their shore. Equal opportunity and issues of class and/or culture over in Europe are a far cry from the problems we’ve experienced and continue to have in America, but it is no less damaging. At the time I truly felt that art could conquer all, turning the whirlpool of ignorance and hate into a positive life altering, food for the soul experience. I don’t believe anyone thought we would see 9/11, terrorism yes but not on that level, and certainly I believe no one felt it less when it did happen, than those involved in a very naïve and hubristic art world – including myself. How ironic that the destruction of the two Buddha statues in Bamyan, Afghanistan were the first to fall – art, religion, mankind had suffered the first lance. Don’t get me wrong, art has its place within the society; however it never seems to be in the right place at the right time. I no longer feel art can even remotely solve the world’s problems.
Looking back before the events of 9/11, I recall a few years earlier, opening the doors of the gallery for the first time to the amazement and shock of the neighbourhood – they were a bit amused to say the least. In hindsight, perhaps they felt threatened. I mean who would purposely move into a community that had previously been reluctantly given up to now, second and third generation immigrants with their own children, having taken the place of their parents, now with even fewer possibilities of social and economic success, a “good” education and overwhelming racial inequality at every turn.
I still remember some of the first receptions at the gallery, a surrealistic mix of white middle to upper high class folk – from just a block away La Cage aux Ours roundabout became the Mason Dixon line, and 16 year old teenage Moroccan boys their parents waiting outside for fear of coming inside, with a huge spread of cakes and quiche and cheese and wine and contemporary art all rolled into one celebration. I can also remember not having put any food or drink out at all during the month of Ramadan had an opening fallen during that sacred time. Hélas, the years rolled on as I became an accepted third party in the neighbourhood and was generally left alone – except for the occasional sugary mint tea brought by on cold winter days by the Moroccan bakery next door. I think everyone realized I was there to stay and that my openings, coming at somewhat regular intervals, were to be expected and quite normal. There was an occasional installation or performance that would raise an eyebrow or two, but nothing that disturbed in any real sense the tranquillity of the block. Well, there was the time the French artist Armand Lestard had himself dragged out of the gallery, laying on the concrete floor by a motorized winch or the time two artists from Luxembourg installed a video of wind-up toy pigs screwing in porn-like settings and in every conceivable position, just across the street from the gallery in an abandoned storefront. I definitely got a reaction then.
September 11 came and went; the war in Afghanistan was just getting started and shortly thereafter the second invasion into Iraq began. All hell broke loose in the neighbourhood and no one, and I mean no one, gave a rat’s ass about art.
I am bitter for a myriad of reasons but blame no one. There are still many things that I do not understand, however, I did realize just how delicate the balance was between my adopted brothers – “salut mon frère, comment vas-tu?” while cupping the right hand over the heart – and myself. That I was, and it felt this way sometimes, the last American outpost in some absurd clash of religion, words and cultures. I was the responsible one, the guilty one, and the one that should pay though it was never too clear how. I became God, Bush, Jewish, the entire Western civilization, Christianity, power, greed, oil monger and killer of Iraqi civilians – but I was mainly a scapegoat for things that had nothing to do with me or my frères. And where was the art in all of this? What do you think? A year after the war started, I closed the gallery, sold the house and moved my family to the south of France.
A few years before my move to Europe, I started a gallery named after my father – Abel Joseph Gallery - in Wicker Park (Chicago) in a neighbourhood with huge loft spaces, cheap rent, tons of artists and excellent Polish diners. Wicker Park like many artist communities in New York and LA suffered eventually from the effects of gentrification. I thought at the time, ironically, that art had the power to keep yuppies out – I felt art could be part of the solution and not the problem. I was wrong.
Ginger Placek
FAST forward to San Diego and 2007. I started out writing this article about Jim Yuran, artist name Yuransky, owner of the Zedism Gallery in Normal Heights, and Bill Pierce of Radioactive Future and curator of the “Resurrection” exhibit currently on view there, but was sidetracked by the conversations I had with both of them – in a good way. Though some of the questions I raise and the opinions I have about the current art scene in San Diego may not be shared entirely by Jim and Bill, our conversation recalled the experience I had in Brussels. I felt strong enough about the situation here to draw some parallels. It is certainly not as bleak or as conflicting, and I still do have plenty to say about Pierce and Yuran as well as the artists in the show. I sense though and thus the reason for this article, a certain loss of focus and direction within the arts here, a certain laissez-faire attitude, that is undermining its very foundation. My feeling from what I have seen and experienced, is that the range and depth, the technique/ materials, the diversity and quality of the content in the artworks being shown, are rather subservient to the real goal of providing a social outlet of our peers for networking and entertainment. Instead of being the real reason to have an opening, an artist’s work has become a screen saver adding but little substance to its purpose and understanding. It all seems so very “bon enfant”. Is the educational slogan of the 21st century – “no child left behind” – applicable to what is currently going on here in San Diego’s art circles? Are we living in a kinder, gentler nation of artists, galleries, and curators – even the art press, who are unwilling to push the envelop artistically, politically or socially? What are the dangers? The backlash if any? What are we hoping to accomplish as artists here, who are we showing are art to, who do we want to buy it, exhibit it, promote it and how do we go about it? Are we still reliant on the gallery system to distribute the wares of our artists? These were just a few of the questions I set out to answer.
Bill Pierce after taking a break to re-charge the proverbial battery has come back with a group show of local talent entitled “Resurrection,” signalling to those who care to notice, his curatorial comeback and the beginning of a series of planned shows for the future. Pierce has lived in San Diego since 1987 and started to become an integral part of its art scene in 2000 when he organized group shows of local artwork including his own, throughout galleries and coffee shops here and in outlying communities. Pierce has also formed several artist groups, Grrrrrl Power was one of many successful itinerary art exhibits that brought him to the attention of the public and San Diego Union Tribune art critic Robert Pincus. If there is an art to networking and bringing diverse groups of people together, Pierce would be the epitome of the Rolodex King – and I mean this as a compliment. Pierce very soft spoken has the knack and boundless energy to organize artists and their works, handle the publicity, hang the work and then immediately plan for the next show. Over the years Pierce has acquired a regular group of artists wanting to be part of his events, an exhaustive email list, an important art collection by those he has supported, knows a lot of established career artists, dealers and collectors and fancies himself as more of an entertainer than a curator of shows. It is important to keep this in mind.
Jim Yuran typifies a perfect blend of 16th century “Renaissance Man” a la Descartes and the “Self-Made Man” of the 20th century in America. His entrepreneurial spirit and passion for the arts has led him in his very short 40 years to a degree in ceramic engineering, a high profile job making computer chips for Kyocera, a prolific painting career, his own company ego-id – which developed and patented the technology to print high quality images on dog tags (for people), and most currently running his own gallery named after a movement he hopes one day will become a legend in the annals of art history amongst all the “-isms” before it. The name of the movement and gallery: Zedism. It may have been a stroke of good fortune that the space right next to Yuran’s business became available. In any case, Yuran undoubtedly sees it as the next step in a long series of goals destined to bring Zedism to the forefront by doing everything possible to support and diffuse it - by any means necessary. Running a gallery, if you ask anyone in the business, is tough enough especially if like Yuran, you’ve opened one for the first time without prior experience. This doesn’t seem to worry him. You can drive down Adams Avenue from either direction and see into the gallery at any time of day or night – often times you’ll spot Yuran painting away at his easel. But what about its impact on the neighbourhood? Hard to tell for the moment and even harder to judge in the gallery’s almost 6 month infancy. Yuran’s vision is probably less about a traditional commercial venue then it is about a network and support for artists. Yuran sees this happening in two distinct ways, first, schooling artists in the art of Zedism – providing them the knowledge and tools/skills necessary to create Zedist paintings – even his gallery space in which to do so and second, mass producing and marketing their works in any printable format from postcards, to flyers, posters, dog tags, banners, giclées and the like – making the unattainable obtainable, the expensive less expensive, an artwork in every home. This worries me. It begs the question as to how much art you need, in what format and in what dosage.
Location is everything as the saying goes, is it still important today? Can art make an impact on a lower to middle class neighbourhood in Normal Heights, ethnically and culturally mixed, with a sprinkling of used book stores, coffee houses, sport bars, ma and pop grocery stores, pawn shop, fabric store, Rite Aid and Vons to name but a few? Can it make a difference to someone’s daily life on the way to pick up bread and milk at the Vons? Is it more of a social activity to visit a gallery or museum and the acquiring of art reserved for a select few or should it be accessible to all for a few pennies. Yuran believes he can and will make a difference. I myself wonder what happens to the “art” when it gets home, where is it placed, how is it viewed, how is it used – the refrigerator, on the nightstand, framed and hung on the wall, or shuffled amongst the papers in the junk drawer? You only have to look in any major museum store for one answer to taking a little bit of the expo home in your pocket even if it is just a facsimile. Has the desire of ownership been satisfied once the postcard or catalog is in your hand requiring no further action or spending on your part? Why not put the accent on the inherent beauty and intrinsic qualities of an original artwork instead of on its mass produced counterpart. Are we not diluting the impact of a work by simply over producing it? Are we not trying to compete on the same consumer playing field against an already over abundance of imagery and finely tuned hard core selling techniques - “Head-On apply directly to the forehead” - in which we have no chance for success. The strength of an artwork depends on its ability to appeal to our senses and intelligence, to our souvenirs, feelings and experiences, not to our pocketbook or false desires. Didn’t Warhol point out to us the dangers of a consumer driven society through his art, didn’t he show us through his repetitious images of electric chairs and car crashes that violence can become as blasé as an endless summer, didn’t he prove how easy it was to mass produce a logo, style, brand name and completely drain the life blood out of it. Warhol’s works were social and political commentary about a post war society with incredible buying power and little to show for it – they were not about marketing. I believe a lot of artists these days have been lured into this marketing frenzy like some art world crap shoot, saturating an already stunted imploding art environment with a blitzkrieg shotgun blast of images hoping someone will notice. It takes more than an image to make an artwork and more than an artist to make art. It takes a critical approach with every step and the emphasis put back squarely on the shoulders of the art being made.
Tiffany Stone - "The Unknown", "Between the Lines"
Consumerism in America is rampant and abundantly obvious. Questions of durability, quality, and necessity have been replaced by corporate guerrilla marketing (see Anti-Advertising Agency) and outsourced for manufacturing that often creates a false sense of desire/need for things as useless as a Hummer, the next best cellular phone, or the latest brand names in clothing and accessories. A lot of these items will remain out of reach for a large majority of citizens in our society – why should art rush in to fill the void? When Anna Nicole Smith’s sudden death makes national and international news and is treated and reported on as if it were the tragic passing of a Head of State, when the amount of verbal content necessary for its comprehension is limited to 10 second rewinds, and is far outweighed by the visual hemorrhaging of bosoms barely lashed down, a huge ass in Chiffon and pinched red lips, when the majority of the information we now receive is via a two-dimensional electronic screen where you can mix downloaded music with podcasts from CNN, I seriously question the amount of critical thinking let alone questioning that goes on when we disseminate fact from fiction let alone from what is perceived or suppose to be art. I’m not convinced we can preferring that the media, government or social entourage we are part of make that decision for us. The more the artist blurs this line between superfluous imagery in his/her art and slick logo brand marketing, the more confusing it is for the buying public to discern the difference. The art world and its artists should be asking the same questions of durability, quality and necessity of what is being made and exhibited, and what it is that sets them apart from the ardent and indistinguishable consumer and political propaganda. Mass diffusion is not the solution. I do believe in supporting and diffusing an artist’s work and encourage those involved in the arts to do what they can in getting the word out – blogs, forums, community projects, volunteering at your children’s school for a day of art, electing officials to public office with an appreciation and understanding for the arts, creating organizations for the support and financial security funding of artists, their health and welfare, allotting a certain percentage of housing and studio space for every new housing or business development, would be one of many ways of taking art out of the private sector and into the public sector to gain the recognition and respect it so deserves.
Dave Miles - "Megalomonolith #1: The Outsider"
I mentioned in passing to Bill and Jim that the night of their reception, I had never seen such particular crowd of art “hipsters” before except for the one or two artists I already knew. I even hazard a guess that they were a very different crowd from the draw other similar galleries in San Diego collect. I wondered why this was. This is I’m sure, to be expected since every space has its own contacts and email lists that are going to correspond to whatever their potential visitor/client likes and Pierce reminded me that there was a lot more crossover than I imagined. At the Resurrection opening, everyone looked so damn young and more like a visitor than a potential buying client. Other than the beer and wine offered at the opening, and other than being one of the artists exhibiting and/or the friend of the artist showing, why would anyone come to an opening, what were some of the other reasons these people were there. Well, hopefully the main reason was to look at the art on the walls – this seems obvious. Jim felt that the draw for a lot of people was and is for the art while Bill felt it was more about having the opportunity to network between other artists for shows and to socialize, to feel part of a group, to partake in the festivities for a brief vicarious moment before heading out for the rest of the evening. I don’t necessarily have a problem with this, it’s just that I have the same nagging question about what these individuals do when they leave – much like taking a postcard away of the show – do they come back?, do they tell others?, do they purchase works? How can they and do they contribute to the success or failure of a show? Or we’re just talking apples and oranges here and they shouldn’t be considered the potential clientele we’re after? Who then are we after? I honestly believe it should be those very same damn young kids that we should be turning into potential clients and supporters of the arts – and not just for a one night stand. Ditto for the artists who should be buying and not necessarily bartering for other artist’s works, it’s a matter of choice and responsibility.
PART II - the Expo
Resurrection is an interesting choice of a title for an exhibition. It could be potentially misleading but as I mentioned before, is the return a self-imposed hiatus for Pierce and his curatorial activities. But as a title it could also be interpreted on many different levels such as the Resurrection of Christ and of the living or dead. A fresh start. A new beginning. If we wanted to push the symbolism even further, it could very well be a statement about an artist’s career. I don’t believe so, but it adds to the confusion and indecisive feeling I have toward the works in the show. The difficulty in group shows is finding that common thread or “raison d’être” for exhibiting the works together in the first place. If I look at the show from the Pierce’s adopted strategy for the inclusion of all and the exclusion of none – for fear of being excluded from the community of art world compatriotes he is trying to cultivate and entertain, then it makes perfect sense. If I try to look at it objectively, then the show seems more like an overview a rather random selection from the very amateurish to the very good. There are several works in the show that seem out of place, not because they’re bad, but because their content either demands more of the same types of work or another curatorial theme. Take “La Llorona” by Nuvia Crisol Guerra for example, La Llorona or “the crying woman” is a popular folkloric tale in Mexican culture that is portrayed typically where the ghost of a woman cries for her dead children – the children she has intentionally drowned. Guerra has given us a simple and elegantly painted canvas, in bright colors that draws our attention away from the tragic outcome. There are as well, the paintings by Tiffany Stone “The Unknown” and “Between the Lines” that seem odd in their banal subject matter and composition combined with garish uniform colouring and figures lost in an urban landscape. It’s difficult to see how these works fit into the context of the show.
There are however some nice surprises, Jessica Newman’s “Kimmy” a portrait of a friend perhaps, seen from above painted in a rich and expressionistic but subtle palette of ochre, creamy whites, pinks, reds, dark blues and blacks, Kimmy’s eyes latch onto ours as she looks up with intensity. There is “Skaters in the City” by Nicolaus McGuire who’s obvious reference to Robert Longo’s “Men in the Cities” series of photographic and charcoal drawings which epitomized the art of the 80’s so its been said, also represented the clash of the urban man and woman against a hedonistic corporate Wall St. society of wealth and power, frozen both literally and figuratively in the throes of some death ray dance destined to topple them all. As prevalent and lucrative that skateboarding has become these days, are the skateboarders of today the artists of tomorrow? Dave Miles presents us with two exquisite paintings of allegorical proportions and masterful technique, “I Dreamt in the Color 25” and “Megalomonolith #1: the Outsider” Megalomonolith is a strange and captivating piece that kept drawing me back for further looks. A Kirk Douglas looking character from “Paths of Glory” maybe? is being dragged by hooded monks towards a huge monolith with the words Odium Ingens Immanis dripping down the face of it in blood, a DNA chain is pictured off to the left of the canvas. Is it a monolith to the glory of mankind’s atrocious and inhuman behaviour towards man, sacrificed for his sins, sacrificed for the intense hatred or dislike that man has brought down around him? Or is it a warning for the advances being made in cloning research that will only succeed in re-duplicating the same savage beast? I don’t know, but I’m intrigued by Miles’ work.
Paul Brogden, David Russell Talbott, Bill Pierce and Pamela Jaeger show that they still make strong and consistent work. David Bart has a couple of playful pieces in the show, a quirky doll like figure, “Crunk Munny” with bling on the teeth and stereo headphones and a series of small abstract works “Tequila Sunrise #1, #2, #3” that have multiple translucent layers of color and line. Cheryl Mags, Macoe Swett and Ginger Placek look less convincing in a showing of “one-offs” that are a little too sweet and void of any content for my taste.
Paul Brogden - "Crippled Thoughts"
David Russell Talbott - "The Death of Georges Reeves"
And finally there are works by Mario Torero and Mary Fleener. Mario Torero who is I’m learning, a very important figurehead in San Diego that has orchestrated numerous outdoor and community projects here, in Tijuana and Los Angeles. He is notably the founder of the Chicano Park Open-Air Museum. In Resurrection he presents four giclées on canvas mounted on board representing perhaps maquettes for larger mural projects of mythical heroes such as Quetzalcoatl – the Feathered-Serpent deity of ancient Mesoamerican culture. Filled with rich imagery and mystical beasts, these are powerful, colourful mesmerizing treatises on ancient culture and modern times. Mary Fleener is a well known alternative comic book artist who published her first solo comic, “Hoodo” in 1988 as a tribute to the Harlem Renaissance writer Zora Neale Hurston. Fleener has illustrated numerous weekly journals and magazine covers, CD’s, and has exhibited in such prestigious places as La Luz de Jesus Gallery, LACE, COCA (Seattle) and the Patricia Correia Gallery with her “cubismo” style of work. Other comic series include “Slutburger,” “Tits and Clits,” and “Nipplez ‘n’ Tum Tum” Fleener brings to Resurrection a vicious work of fierce and savage bloodletting and unabashed greed and fortune in “Our Lady of Perpetual Litigation” – complete with judge and lawyer sucking on the tit of an American institution, of legendary bureaucratic proportion, lust, and power – our legal system.
Nicolaus McGuire - "Skaters in the City"
All in all Pierce may be on the path of redemption with this group exhibit, and we can probably forgive him for some pre-expo jitters, for Resurrection may not be one of his better efforts. A bit of editing and fine tuning would of have made for a stronger cohesive show. However, his commitment to the arts and the support he gives to its artists plus the energy he puts into making sure his projects manifest, is done with professionalism and care and should be duly recognized for the impact it has on keeping the scene here in San Diego constantly evolving.
Featuring: Mario Torero, Macoe Swett, Paul Brogden, Yuransky, Exist 1981, David Russell Talbott, Zuri Waters, Bill Pierce, Jessica Newman, Lara K. Tamalunas, Nicolaus McGuire, David Bart, Cheryl Mags, Dave Miles, Pamela Jaeger, Mary Fleener, May-Ling Martinez, Nuvia Crisol Guerra, Ginger Placek, and Tiffany Stone.
Jessica Newman - "Kimmy"
Mary Fleener - "Our Lady of Perpetual Litigation"
I felt it was important to explain what Zedism was and how Yuran uses it in his work apart from the context of the show. I also wanted to make some observations directly related to his work. What is Zedism? Here is a very brief explanation taken from a one page summary written by Yuransky the artist:
“Zedism is a painting style whereby a 3-dimensional surface morphology is mapped onto the canvas plane and then utilized to construct imagery. A key stylistic ingredient to a successful Zedist piece is the presentation of competition between the central imagery and underlying geometry for the forefront of the viewer’s perception. The word Zedism is derived from the root word zed signifying the alphabetical letter Z. Mathematically, the letter Z represents the 3rd axis of the Cartesian coordinate system. The letters X and Y describe the point’s position in a flat plane, whereas the letter Z gives the point depth, or a 3rd dimension. Visually, Zedism is about depth or dimension and is through the manipulation of the 3rd dimension on the canvas plane which distinguishes the Zedist style of painting.”
Jim Yuran - "Rose", "Ossuary"
In layman’s terms I believe there are a few key elements in Zedism that allow at least, a basic perceptual understanding of Yuran’s paintings and the movement/idea. The key stylistic ingredient he refers to and its central imagery can comprise anything from Michelangelo’s “David” to an American flag, a female nude, a Deity, portrait, skulls or even an abstract motif – the central image chosen (of no great importance in of itself I felt) is an added bonus as it weaves its way in and out of the picture plane. The key to this “key” is stylistic, or a style as in the manner of as opposed to a true “-ism” (I feel) as the expression of something – meaning however stylistic DeKooning got with his series of Women or however cold and analytical Donald Judd got with his sculpture, it was the expression of their inner thoughts and feelings, their vision and passion. It was not an exercise. It is interesting to note that, as Yuran explained, the Z axis is used extensively in the film and video gaming industries to create 3D environments in which the central image or figure moves about. However, it wasn’t until Yuran showed me a cluster of topaz colored crystals sitting on his painting cart, huddled together in all their multi-faceted hues and brilliance that I could recognize and understand the translation of that structure onto his canvases.
The danger of course, is that it can become too formulaic. The inherent beauty and sense of order that we as humans can recognize within a crystalline structure, their supposed healing powers, or fields of energy that resonate within us can lead sometimes to an unexplainable awe and/or worship of them that may not be recognizable on a flat two-dimensional painted canvas – regardless of intent, theory and discourse. Art shouldn’t always be something that you need to wade through or go back and read up on if your first viewing of it leaves you a bit inquisitive or unsure. The problem isn’t necessarily its historical importance, the idea, the movement or its influence on generations to come – art does not nor cannot lie – its power of conviction lies within its execution and its ability to translate its creator’s idea into a physical form understood (ideally) by the masses via some universal art language. Everything else is superfluous and not everything is communicable. While I am intrigued by Yuran’s paintings, impassioned by his knowledge and experience, I am still left alone with my thoughts and the canvas before me that does not speak.
Kevin Freitas
For another view on the work of Yuran, please refer to the San Diego City Beat article here.
Zedism Gallery
3540 Adams Avenue
San Diego, CA 92116
619.283.1210
On display during the month of February
Monday-Friday 9am-5pm
Curated by Bill Pierce
Jim Yuran
www.zedism.com
Bill Pierce
http://www.radioactivefuture.com
http://www.funeralsofdistinction.com
Mario Torero - "Makila Loca-Love Conquers Hate"
Mario Torero - "Quetzalcoalt-Indian Renassience"
David Bart - "Crunk Munny", "Tequila Sunrise #1, #2, #3"
THIS ARTICLE IS PRINTER FRIENDLY
It is indeed a sad day when I can recognize Billy Idol out of a line-up of playmobil® style prints on canvas simply by his trademark upper lip curl. Plasticgod like the God he is, has created a Purgatory of burnt-out now penniless celebrities – because their souls have been sold to the Devil (Warhol?) himself for the price of fame, and now find themselves trapped for all eternity into a parallel hubristic world of power, greed, and rehab. And oh how the guest list is long: Morrissey, Yoda, Kurt Cobain, Molly Ringwald, Tom Yorke, George Harrison, Frida, Flava Flav, Johnny Depp, Elephant Man ad naseum. 
