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The current exhibitions at SPACES, a group show titled Multiplicity and an installation, In the Middle of the Way, by Anna Konik, make for a compelling — albeit incongruous — art experience. The former explores excess and obsession; conversely, the latter is centered on some of Cleveland’s homeless citizens, who live in extreme poverty in a country of abundance.
Konik, who is visiting from Warsaw, Poland as part of SPACES’ World Artist Program, is one of the strongest participants to date. The goal of the six-week residency is to give visiting artists the opportunity to create new work and to interact with people in this community. Konik takes this objective further by introducing ordinary Clevelanders to their homeless neighbors, about whom they probably know very little. The artist immersed herself in the homeless community, guided by several homeless men. Her collaborators (as she prefers to call them) take her to shelters, under bridges, and to downtown parking lots, where some of them work taking parking fees from affluent bar and restaurant patrons. What makes Konik’s film poignantly compelling is that she is filmed along with the homeless men. This tactic is brilliant for its candid sensitivity to her subjects, and it also allows her to stand in for the viewer, creating a direct connection with the homeless men. The person operating the camera is also present in the film.
At one point, one of Konik’s collaborators offers her a hand as they negotiate a steep hill. After getting Konik on to steady ground, he offers his hand to the cameraperson, who eagerly accepts it. These simple gestures make it clear that Konik is not interested in creating a “safe” distance between herself and her less privileged subjects; nor is she content to let viewers get away with distancing themselves from the people onscreen. The film opens with a man’s voice: “Until the color of a man’s skin has no more significance than his eyes there will be war.” This trenchant statement is underscored by the fact that all the men in the film are African-American, except for one white man. Obviously, not all homeless people are African-American. However. Konik draws our attention to the issue of race as, like class and gender, it often provides or impedes access to capital and opportunity.
It is somewhat disconcerting to move from Konik’s emotionally moving installation to Multiplicity. While Konik’s piece depicts people sleeping on the streets wrapped in ragged blankets, Multiplicity demonstrates artists’ obsession with creating multiple forms or performing repetitive rituals. Yet there are some strong pieces in the exhibition. Danielle Julian Norton’s Inner Voyage is beautiful in its simplicity. The piece fills a smaller room off of the main gallery, creating a meditatively intimate space filled with white boat-shaped rice forms, which hang at chest level. The shapes are well spaced, creating a sense of calming repetition. Sarah Chokyi Bauer’s Untitled (Refuge) is a digital video of the artist performing the Buddhist practice of “taking refuge” through the accumulation of 100,000 physical acts. Viewers watch as the artist falls to her knees, slides forward, raises her arms, stands, and repeats the action again and again. The piece’s ceremonial nature is underscored by Untitled (Twilight Dawn) an enormous field of miniature still photos of Chokyi Bauer performing the same ritual. The photographs are almost as beautiful as the physical accomplishments they depict.
While the exhibits are somewhat
discordant in theme and content, they underscore the power of art as
a communicative tool and a way to dispel stereotypes. This is certainly
the case with Konik’s important project. And some of the work
in Multiplicity provides a sensory refuge from the social and
political ills of our time. The point, however, is not to remain sheltered
from reality. Instead, like Konik, we should be compelled to step out
of our comfort zones and see the world through the eyes of others.