Celebrity Art Show for Charity An Exhibit of Art by Writers Curated by Baron Edmund Voyer and Baird Jones To honor the Solomonic Foundation For Ethiopian Medical Services Thursday Sept.15, 2005  10 PM - 1 AM Spirit, 534 W 27 St. off 10th Ave. Reviewed by Erin L. Mallay Photographed by Enrico Wey
	Lawrence Ferlinghetti

When I first heard about the Celebrity Art show for charity at Spirit, a trendy nightclub on West 27 th Street, I wasn’t overwhelmed with excitement. The prospect of walking from the subway all the way over to the western edge of the Manhattan Island in heels to see some art barely gets me to the galleries over there.

But when I read the list of artist included in the show I decided there was nothing else I would rather do; William Burroughs, Kurt Vonnegut, Ken Kesey, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Tennessee Williams, Kate Millett, Henry Miller, among others--it was as if someone snuck into my room and photographed my bookshelf. And what a great idea for a show; an exhibition of the visual work of such notorious writers examines the depth of American icons we have come to love. Such a theme begs the question of both the visibility and visuality of writers; if writers write and painters paint and so on, what would happen if this paradigm were to be challenged? If geniuses leave the realm of their genius in order to explore other mediums, what would it mean to their public identity? Would such a show rest on the novelty of writers working visually or could they be any good?

Kurt Vonnegut

These questions were well worth the trudge across two avenues, so I strapped on some fabulous shoes and headed out. The press announcement said to mention the exhibition at the door and get in for free, so that’s exactly what I did. Dark, hot, crowded and terribly, terribly hip, I managed to expose myself as huge dork despite my fabulous shoes by asking immediately, “…so, where is the art?”

My photographer and I were directed to a narrow room just off the bar. One side of the room was lined with tables inhabited by a colorful array of New York Society. Opposite them tables were set up, with propped up framed art work leaning against the wall.

Immediately irritated with the layout, I begrudgingly entered the line parading past the wall-o-art. Why didn’t anyone think of the enter-exit problem of floor planning? No flow, no movement, no adequate viewing space, none of the reverence I would have expected for the legends and heroes of the written word represented in this show.

However, my irritation evaporated once I took in the work. It was absolutely thrilling to see the work of my favorite authors, and with glee I started to piece together names and works. Recognizing the signatures of Ferlinghetti and Vonnegut, I was surprised by their choice of materials and style; I would have never figured Vonnegut for the screen printing type, although the clean line and vibrant color of the method lends itself well to the playful illustrations of his imagination. While Ferlinghetti’s simple black and white drawings of figures were somewhat more subdued than a Coney Island of his mind, the simplicity left room for quiet contemplation. Tennessee Williams’ impressionistic painting of a shady house in some swampy woods (near what I would assume to be a bayou) made me wonder what emotional turmoil could be encased by this calm setting.

As a whole, the collection of work varied dramatically in style, material and subject, but the skill and artistry of each piece was far from disappointing. The experience wasn’t so different from seeing a retrospective of an artist whose life one would study in school; you bring with you the some bits and pieces you think you know of the artist as a person, snippets of their biography and what you assumed about their lives from other work and construct a broader understanding of the artist from the newest exhibition. Seeing these artists successfully reach outside the realm that made them famous made me love them just a little bit more.

I only wish I could have learned more about the breadth of cosmic understanding of some of the other writers included in the show, but that was impossible; the curation failed to include any indication of artists or medium for each piece and signatures were my only clue. This absence led me to believe that the curators, Baird Jones and the Baron Edmund Voyer, relied on the theme of intellectual contemplation and the names in the press release to carry the show. I enjoy intellectual onanism as much as the next person, but I tend to work under the assumption that more information is better than none at all.

I respect Promotional Director Sorin Abraham for the idea to adopt the Chelsea tradition of Thursday night openings into his newest club venture (you may remember Abraham from such New York nightlife landmarks as Limelight, Tunnel and Palladium). Combining night club and art opening into one venue, leaning on the side of nightclub, results in an almost democratic approach to the New York art scene—you don’t have to be an art person to get in or mingle or experience an interesting exhibition

It would seem that Spirit lucked out with a connection to art insider Baird Jones, although I would have expected more from a professional curator; the show’s presentation lacked innovation or creative use of space and the audience was left with a view that resembled the clusterfuck of a DMV more than a gallery.

I like the show concept, and love the artist line up, although I would have appreciated a little more information on the pieces—and by a little I mean any at all. I enjoyed conversing with the Baron, and I was impressed by Abraham’s ambition to enhance the cultural experience of his patrons. But it seems the shallow nature of contemporary pop culture he is challenging with his inclusion of art shows in his club doesn’t lose much ground if the show is curated with half-assed interest.

The exhibition was an interesting experiment and the theme had merit. I would like to see it taken further; a contemplation of the creative range of our cultural champions offers much in the way of understanding them, understanding why we cherish them and what else we deem valuable.