The Blues Ensemble 1 & 2, performed in the Columbia College's music center on December 5. The ensemble was made up of two groups of students exploring a wide range of both blues and old time classics. There was Etta James, Aretha Franklin, and even a Muddy Water's song (though the Coco Taylor version) to keep the audience both familiar and interested. Sadly there were no (what I consider) real blues, you know like Junior Kimbrough, Leadbelly, or Son House. The music center—a building that has probably gone unnoticed by all non-music majors is right on South Michigan. Since I'd never been there before, I had to ask the security guard at the front desk where I was going, and she was very helpful. I was told to just go right on through the door and into the concert hall. It was reminiscent of the many scholarly music halls I'd been in throughout my five years in art school—I found it comforting, because the space doesn't need to change or improve. In all reality, the space doesn't even matter—only the music being played and the musicians do.
Blue and white lights shine down on the players and I spotted a pink one or two that created a green glow on everyone. They were all dressed business casual in blacks, whites, and grays—your typical ensemble get ups. I understand why this dress code exists, as I was in honors choir for several years and it's based on the idea that the music matters, not the people making it. However, I always disagreed. Yes, the music is ultimately what matters, but at the same time doesn't the personality of the players aid in their bravado? Wouldn't they feel more comfortable and in their element if they were wearing an outfit of their choosing? I thought about this for a little while, so doesn't it mean it was doing the opposite? For wanting to be all about change, it seemed as if they were fitting the “norm” and conforming. I thought we weren't supposed to conform. You're confusing me Columbia.
One element that I found really noticeable and appreciated, was that both bands (though especially the first group) were constantly switching instruments after a song. Constant instruments played throughout included drum kit, bongo, bass, guitar(s), piano and several men and women on vocals. Both this style and event, I found incredibly reminiscent of Columbia's feel as a whole. This is because it is commonplace for students at Columbia to be Jack's of all trades. We are encouraged to spread our wings into other areas within our own field (though often times, not branch out enough to explore outside of our actual major). I attended the show, not only to review it, but because my friend Johnny was performing. Just within the first four songs Johnny had moved from bass to guitar and back again. The girl that started out on bongos made her way to regular drums and on bass. It shows how important is is to know your craft well, because when you do you can move on and learn other instruments and understand how they work all together, as well as how each part has its own presence. The vocalists had a chance to go solo or together on backup vocals, so if you didn't like one it didn't ruin the show. The first group performed a solid set and everyone seemed very comfortable playing their instruments, even though there was a lot of switching off happening constantly. The second group however (which I assumed was supposed to be the “better” of the two, like the 1st is opening for the main act, right?) had a lot of musicians that stayed on their respected instruments but it seemed I caught more slip ups. The one guitarist in particular looked a mixture of surprised/amused/impressed/flabbergasted all at once. It was actually kind of difficult to focus on anyone else, but then one female singer came out. Adorned with black lace sleeved dress and red lips, she sang the first number and I was impressed—but more with her beauty than anything. Then, she started to sing Billie Holiday, and I melted into my seat. She was able to manipulate her voice to sound so reminiscent of Holiday's own style and quirks. The second act also busted out a metal slide for the guitar—adding what I consider the bluesiest of elements.
Music being only one factor of Columbia's majors, I wanted to see what other things students do here that's not in my field. The fashion collection housed in 618 building, which is showing something year round in the East facing windows provided the perfect view book of what students in the fashion department are doing. Currently a show inspired by designer Charles James resides in the space. James was a designer who hailed from Chicago originally and was known for his very structural style of hat making. He then moved to New York City and started making evening dresses and ball gowns, still holding true to his very original style. His pieces were often referred to as being like fine sculpture, as opposed to wearable garments. Although he created beautiful gowns, he never really could break into the larger consumer market. These were dresses you’d see on the runway, but were not translatable to something bought at Macy’s. There are not only decals that say the name of the show “INSPIRED by Charles James”, but also an informational panel facing South Michigan directly on, so passerby can know the show/designer by name and also understand what the show is all about. All students’ names are printed clearly on a sign next to each dress.
The eleven pieces in the windows are those of the semifinalists in this competition. All pieces are very representative of Charles James’s signature style in actually sculpting the fabric to create three dimensional space coming off of the body. There are hard elements posed up next to soft flowing sections. The first thing I noticed off the bat and appreciated was that not all pieces were the same. The chosen dresses were not just elegant evening gowns; there were party dresses (assumed due to their length), coats, evening dresses and hybrids. I wonder if this was a conscious decision of the judges or if there really was a diverse group of submissions.
All went with the same sort of chic color palette, expressed in blacks, creams, whites, and light pinks. It was apparent how James was referenced in the pieces. Some of which appeared more wearable than others, but all held a very structural backbone. Dana Dupree had flowing hard black lines that hung off the body and up into a zipper. Trianna Majalca's dress had tiers that instead of flowing down, cut upwards to make rectangular waves popping up to the hip. Stephanie Gabrys's evening gown was reminiscent of this as well, with boxy tiers going all the way from under the bust to the floor. Even Margaret Bolan's jacket with structured back was beautiful.
I really appreciate that fact that Columbia, although growing these artists into free thinking individuals, can also always tie what we learn back to something bigger. We as students learn that there is no future without a past and this is why “inspired by” collections are so important. We're admitting that we don't know everything, but at least we can continue the conversation.
When thinking about the school import to diversify by the exploration of other majors, but also to explore what my thoughts are on my own field and how I felt at the beginning of the semester. Dwelling, was up in the C33 gallery at the start of this class and the first time we had to pick apart something that was in our world. Bubble can't describe it because of how in the city we are, but more on that later.
“Dwelling” explores a wide variety of both the comforts and terrors of home. What makes home? Is it the people who dwell along with you, the projects that take up space from years of collecting dust, the memories of all times you had there, or even mental snapshots of what’s gone by and come up so far? Each artist thought something else when the concept of dwelling was put out there. It could be as dark and mysterious as Austin Swearengin’s piece entitled “Finding a Way In”. The sculpture isn’t recognizable as a house or shelter, but rather a sailboat shaped box with no entrance or exit. This leaves the viewer either interested with wonder or fed up with an artist or curator’s “concept”. With any exhibit there’s the possible problem of whether or not the viewer will get the art or the “big idea”. This may have been the largest problem the show faced.
“Memory Archive” was less abstract and was a full wall of snapshots that made the viewer feel like home. It's hard to not be cynical at this. Why are there so many images? Where there not few enough that were strong enough to stand on their own or even in sets, that the artist had to just put up the whole roll? At least this piece was receivable. I'm sure there wasn't a soul that walked by and though, “Am I not getting this?”
Although not all work can be as to the point as Anna Peter’s memory archive, some of the pieces left the viewer completely at a loss. For instance, in Carrie Schneider’s family videos, the subject is older and featured in her mother’s arms in one and having her hair washed by her father in the other. Are these family videos reshot with the child now of adult age? Is there something wrong with the girl that these tasks are being completed for her? Is there some sort of incest theme that’s supposed to be going on? I couldn't have been the only one to think this—so was the point of the piece lost because I'm asking myself so many damn questions? That's what I'm thinking.
Ginny Hou’s “Corrugated Roof” also left you wondering what exactly was roof like about the structure at all. You leave the mind completely up to the viewer with little subtext and you have a very weirded out audience. At the same time, many works of art are not meant to have some huge theme. Sometimes it's just enough for it to provide the viewer with an emotion, a certain “je n'este pas” can help art go a long way. “Roof” made me want to crawl underneath the accordion folded paper, into the fetal position and just listen to the call of birds. Come to think of it, that exactly what “Dwelling” can be.”
The heavy audio visual elements and abstract concepts of the show made it about 3 stars in my book. Opinion is everything and “Dwelling” is different for everyone in very different place. So do these could elements make the show fail? Not if you had enough pieces to rope the viewer in and still make ‘em reflect.
These Columbia events or shows all do say something about Columbia and what the experience is like and the questions we ask ourselves while going all along on our merry ways. However, half of them you will never actually be able to experience. They end and new shows go up and even the reference that it happened may be difficult to find. So how could someone reading this really know what I'm saying or really ask the questions I do, if they have no point of real visual reference, real time/space reference. To see the many faced Columbia College Chicago, they would need to see some spots, since we're not your run of the mill campus with everything centralized. There are three spots for me, that have made my experience here what it is and why I stay. These places are how I would describe my experience because they've given way to meeting both Columbia's most typical (rolls eyes) and extraordinary individuals.
In my three years at Columbia, there is one space that I would say is most representative of the school as a whole and that is the smoker hoard in front of the 624 S Michigan building. When it's the beginning of the semester, you'll likely see everyone you know—as the bookstore windows show winding lines that look like someone was playing “snake” and ate a whole lot of dots. The 624 building not only houses the library and the bookstore, but also probably the most diverse set of classes. This is because, with the exception of English, almost all of the LAS courses are taught here. That means you can meet anyone. AEMM students rendezvous with music majors, fashion majors, and even visual artists. Smokers follow one another down the elevators and out around the red marble flower beds—the perfect place to sit if it hasn't rained. I've always wondered why these flower beds are less impressive than the rest the city boasts—can it be that we're college students? Could it be that we have no respect for anything/one other than ourselves? Or is that what they think? Possibly. The past smokers could have ruined this beauty for the rest of us. The 624 building also is ideal because of its location, as it is situated between all other buildings. It is North of the Book and Paper Center, Music building, and Film Row, but also South of the Photography/Admissions building and the English building. I was quick to choose this space also because before I even came to Columbia and identified as one of the “smokers” , upon only visiting I thought South Michigan WAS Chicago. When you sit out in front you get 5 lanes of traffic to the East side—three going South and two going North. You also have Grant Park to look at. Being from Western Pennsylvania, the wilderness is what I miss most, and when the city's all you got the little walkway through the trees is sometimes enough. When you think about it, it is quintessentially what Columbia is—an incredibly urban campus with lovely landscaping thrown in to perhaps make us forget that we're actually in world on concrete.
The second place that symbolizes Columbia for me personally is the Blum Conference room on the fifth floor of the Library. Don't know it? Didn't think so. This may very well be Columbia's best kept secret, or at least it is in my opinion. The other room, tucked right in the back of the library by the North set of elevators lies a world unlike any other found on the campus. Columbia is very new and likes to keep up with the times and modern design, and decorates accordingly. We even have a set color palette for the school. This room makes you wonder if its two wooden carves doors will lead you to Narnia. The walls are carved wood as well, and there's aged hardwood flooring throughout. Fourteen crimson red wheeled chairs make their way around the grandiose wooden conference table, and show a view of Grant Park and Lakeshore Drive from five stories up. Framed photos of important people to the school (e.g. president Carter, Mary Ann Blood) are the only items adorning the walls, which are just beautiful in their own right. All modern accessories, like a fan, coat hanger, and power strip are all matte black, as if attempting to not steal any of the spotlight from the rest of the rooms. Speaking of lights, these aren't the florescent overheads that you see all throughout the rest of the school—these are floor lamps with stained glass shades, and fake candle fixtures on the wall. And as if it couldn't get any fancier the ceiling is white with rose cut outs and meet the fireplace. Yes, you heard me—fireplace. Where many would say that this isn’t anything like Columbia and doesn't belong in an explanation fo the school, I would have to disagree. This is where we came from, this is what Columbia used to be. This is actually still what it is (in the hoity toity hierarchy of the fatheads in charge). I mock, but that's not even why I picked it. I picked it because art doesn't exist on its own—completely new of everything that's already happened. Art is influenced by history, is that not why we put so much stock into Art History? If the Loft was what if Columbia now, The Blum Conference Room is how we all got here.
Another spot on campus that's representative of the Columbia community as a whole would be in front of the 623 Wabash building. There's a view of what used to be the freshman dorms at 2 E 8th Street. So much of my first year at Columbia was walking past 623 on my way anywhere on campus. It houses Shop Columbia, with their light blue neon sign leading people to come in. Shop Columbia is to the left of the entrance, selling Columbia students and graduates works. To the right is the Hokin gallery, a student run exhibition space. The rest of the building holds where most, if not all, visual arts classes are held, which brings your quintessential “artist” out for a smoke. They're all clad more or less the same, as if Chicago distributed a dress code and I didn't get the memo. Where one would imagine to see the oddest ducks of the art school pond, you usually just get cutouts from the latest Urban Outfitters catalog. It's as if living in a city this size means we all have to outdo one another fashion wise, without looking like we try at all. How could they not though? The view from here makes one feel incredibly urban. People are leaning on the black marble that spans the front of the building. Why is it slanted? I've asked myself this question a million times. Even though you put a cigarette butt tower out here for us, it's kinda hard to sit and not have gravity scooting you down. My hypothesis: the homeless. The city, as with its affinity for sparkling sidewalks and blooming flowerbeds, also manages to create “seating” all throughout the city that is designed to only accommodate sitting, and no sleeping. I don't know if we should feel appreciative or just sad as I look up at the roaring “el”. Other views include that of Warehouse Liquors, a small and somewhat swanky liquor distributor, a fancy Japanese restaurant called Tamarind and a condo. However more the more standard business of the the bunch practically take over the block: KFC/Pizza Hut, Subway, Dunkin' Donuts and Harold's Chicken. We college students is hungry, and they are practically on our doorstep. I wonder if this intense consumerism shoved in our face makes us different from the students that attend class on grassy quads. Then, the final gem in the mix is being able to see the Columbia English building at the corner of Wabash and Congress. The only Columbia building with its side exposed, was painted to commemorate the school and pinpoint our campus. Columbia College Chicago in bright green letters on a light blue background with the circular logo reading “Create Change” in white on orange. Although this is creative in respect to other buildings around the city, I still find myself asking for more. Why isn't it more creative, why wasn't it painted by our own artists, why can't a design be the face of the student body and not that of the polished “owners” of Columbia. Because I don't know about you, but the artists I know get a little dirty. We're scrappy and more interested in the concept and execution than with how the rest of the city will see us. Let's tear down the pretension.
So you see, sometimes I have opinions. Sometimes I read a little too far into it, and sometimes I care way to much about nothing. Sometimes I'm unimpressed. Sometimes I give the school more shit than it probably deserves, but I just need to keep it on its toes because I love it so much. I'm only looking out for it—for us. I'm really only human. Columbia is run by humans. We can't make anything perfect. It's unattainable. You just gotta weigh pros and cons, exactly how the class started. What's good, what's bad and what does that mean? For me, it means that this is my home.
P.S. This is a painting I made that should be featured on the side of the C33/English building. It even stays inside their color pallet. I poke fun, but am also serious.
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