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With the goal of giving youth a space to unleash their creativity, the exhibition and event will raise funds for the organization to continue its commitment to providing free, high-quality art classes for children in public libraries nationwide. My Kid Could Do That features childhood works by renowned contemporary artists including Daniel Arsham, KAWS, Marco Brambilla, Sarah Cain, Seth Cameron, Nate Lowman, Kevin Claiborne, Oliver Clegg, Dan Colen, Austin Eddy, Amy Globus, Devin B. Johnson, LeRoy Neiman, Jen Stark, and Darryl Westly.
By showcasing childhood works by these renowned artists, ProjectArt is elevating the crucial role arts education plays in developing a young creative potential. Without giving them the proper tools to succeed, we risk passing by our next artistic greats who never got the chance.
“There are over 4 million kids in elementary schools in the U.S. that don’t receive any arts education,” ProjectArt founder and executive director Adarsh Alphons said. “We realized libraries are the best distribution systems because, unlike a museum, they’re decentralized with branches in every community and it’s free — anybody can walk through the doors.”
In addition to the exhibition, the ProjectArt Gala will feature passed bites and cocktails provided by Bulleit Frontier Whiskey, BODY Vodka, Hampton Water Rose, and JuneShine, among others. The lively after party will feature music by DJ Trevor McFedries.
Artist Dylan Rose Rheingold experienced the palpable pressures of girlhood in her younger years, often feeling like she was shrinking or altering herself to fit into a mold that was created for an unattainable ideal. Through learning to accept the differences that characterize her, Rose creates space for other women to accept the pieces of themselves that they did not have the strength to before.
Rheingold’s latest exhibition, Best in Show, now open at M+B, explores the journey of girlhood. Through a series of mixed-media paintings, she conjures nostalgia as she draws from early memories, channeling the notion of competition as she recalls her high school’s color war competitions.
You grew up in a suburb outside of NYC — a child to a Japanese mother and a Jewish-American father. How have you learned to weaponize or reclaim this idea of “otherness” that often arises during adolescence?
Within my adolescence, that idea of 'otherness' wasn't something that I ever pushed away, but it was just something that I felt and I didn't really know how to express. But being submersed in a community that was so insular, there was so much of the same. And if you didn't fit into that box, you stood out. I kind of felt like I was almost floating; not really knowing where I should be. I don't think I ever had a point where I was ashamed or blocking out my origins, but I definitely wasn't as inspired or curious to explore my roots.
You allude to the many preconceived notions embedded within our minds as we mature. Social hierarchies are inevitable, as they allow us to categorize and classify people and their actions. As you’ve matured yourself, how have you unlearned these standards?
I think it's from honestly just putting yourself in a different environment. In college, I made so many friends from different walks of life and I became interested in their history. It made me take a step back and think, 'Whoa, why haven't I really taken the time to think about my own?' I started building this family archive of photos from both my parents’ sides. And I was making a bunch of collages at the time. I was really interested in Rauschenberg's collages — I'm a big fan of him. So I started making these collages and I didn't really have any intention of showing them. It was more just like an exercise for myself. But it really helped inform my voice and my thoughts, and I was able to create these obscure combinations and connections. I kept making these as I started grad school and started looking inward. I realized that what was so attractive about those images and pairing them side by side with both sides of my family was the contrast. I was able to see that otherness as a powerful thing and a cool thing. It's actually cool how different my mom grew up and my dad grew up. This should be celebrated. When you think about art history, American culture, the American dream, and what that actually means, I think it's a lot closer to these diverse families than anything else. I don't think that cookie-cutter mold is representative of the truth.
Your practice blends abstract figuration and surrealism. Why do you choose to portray your thoughts in this way?
Stylistically, the choices exaggerate certain things and hone in on and celebrate the awkwardness and flaws that we experience at that age. I got my BFA and MFA and I was taught how to draw very traditionally. At the time, I found that to be super frustrating because I was never really interested in realism. Looking back now, I'm really grateful for it because I think it did help me develop my own style. All of the paintings [in this show] are mixed media, so I start with an acrylic base and then I end up layering a lot. But within the layers, I use acrylic and oil stick pretty heavily. For this series, I actually started making my paint for the first time. So most of the dyes are made from pigments and this was my first time experimenting with that. But there's also China marker, there's also regular marker, and even on the dog pile paintings, all of the girls have somewhat chipped nail polish. I actually did use real clear nail polish and glitter on them. And I'm telling you all of this because I think it also plays into what we were just speaking about. Being able to use high-quality pigments and very professional mediums, but mixing those with materials that I think can directly relate to adolescents, in a nostalgic way. Using hints of neon that almost remind you of a highlighter or using a little bit of a crayon and just employing these techniques that aren't traditional.
I know for this exhibition you have chosen a more muted color palette than you usually do and even the space you selected was intentional. Tell me about how this body of work departs from your previous ones.
This was my first time working on a body of work that was made in such a controlled setting, which was very challenging. It's the first time I have a show that's really site-specific. When you walk into the space, I want it to feel like an auditorium or a gymnasium. And the way that it's going to be installed is going to be that half of the space is red and half of the space is blue. This is definitely a bit of a jump for me being that it's a body of work that's all taking place within the same moment in time. Even the way that I made these works was interesting. It may seem a little bit different to my audience, but making them felt the same. It just felt like I was doing a series of studies, which is something that I usually do anyway. I'm just not really exhibiting the studies themselves, so this goes one step further. My last show, which was called Lost in the Dress Up Bin, also drew a lot of parallels from adolescent experiences to adulthood and navigating the space between girlhood and womanhood. I think that the parallels I made between performance and identity in that show are the same concepts I am exploring here. I am examining how women feel like we need to perform or that we subconsciously have an audience. We hold that gaze in so many ways and that affects our identity and how we view ourselves.
You mentioned the dichotomy and the interconnected relationship between movement and mistake in your show notes. Can you expand upon that and what characterizes that relationship?
In my painting process, when I make a mistake, I never try and cover it up or start over. When I was in a more traditional mindset, I was oil painting and making under paintings. It's something you learn to do so you can have a solid foundation to start from. But as I've gotten older, I like to build off of my mistakes and I layer a lot, but I keep that line work visible so you can see the movement and the flaws. You can see the growth of how these figures are interacting over time and I think it's a more realistic view of my process. I think that's more relatable than seeing something that's supposed to be perceived as realistic because that's what life is.
In the context of this body of work, it's also a reflection of what it means to be a woman. Building off of your mistakes is just growing up. How has this work and the self-reflection that it spurred affected your outlook on womanhood and the relationships we foster with one another?
I had definitely been recalling certain memories and interactions from when I was younger. I also had the realization that, in my mind, one of the reasons that the art world hasn't really taken this period of life very seriously — this idea of girlhood — is that maybe the issues or conflicts that occur during that time don't feel heavy enough. But I really do feel like even those situations and the hard times that people go through at that age, they really shape you and follow you until you're older. I think about how different maybe certain people would be if they were let in a bit more during these formative years, you know? I also watched 13 Going on 30 again last week. It's definitely still one of my favorites and I think the way they address nostalgia and social hierarchies is actually pretty eye-opening. Girls can be so cruel. Of course, we support women, but we can also acknowledge that girls are not always the kindest and the waters are not always so warm. I wish we talked more about these things when I was younger because I think some framework adjustments could have made all the difference.
These issues may seem so small to an adult, but when you're that age, those things are everything. It's not surprising that there is often animosity between women because we're taught to compete with each other our entire lives. It's about analyzing what teaches us to act that way towards each other because these things are often taught and learned behaviors. If you could go back in time and speak to your younger self, what would you say? Do you think there's anything she needed to hear?
If I could go back in time and tell my younger self something, it would be just to be a bit more unapologetic about being myself. I'd tell myself not to be concerned about how my values or my interests may differ from my peers. Knowing that that's actually a good thing and something worth embracing rather than shying away from.
I think that's something that's really hard to understand when you're that age. It's funny how we grow up and become a bit more courageous to be the most authentic versions of ourselves. What do you hope other women can take with them from this show as a lesson or empowering message to carry with them after they depart?
I just hope they can feel like they can be seen and heard. I want them to know that these people I am portraying are not the cookie-cutter mold, but they are real and they have depth to them. They're beautiful because they are different. When I think about my younger self going to museums, I would only ever see very traditional impressionist paintings of women with children or women doing very domestic, leisurely activities like reading or taking a bath. Something else that is subconscious in my practice is my inclusion of eye bags on faces. That's something I've been doing since I was a little kid. I found a sketchbook the other day from when I was in elementary school and all of the people had little curves under their eyes. At the time, it was nothing intentional. At the end of my BFA, someone commented on it and asked, 'Is this a statement on flaws?' It really made me take a step back because it was so unintentional but then I didn't want to correct it because it encapsulated my vision anyway. I never felt like there was a space where I saw people who were like me, occupying that in-between space, or just figuring things out. So I think that's what I'm trying to capture.
Best in Show will be on display at M+B Galleries until November 11th.
Produced by Red Expanse, an art label and agency founded by "22" in 2014, creating boundaryless art, video, and music with global artists– empowering voices of radical art worldwide, and directed by artist Jo "22" Frias and conceptualized by himself and artist Nadine Blanco, 'Sin Mañana y Sin Fin' is a visual account of a dancer following the night until dawn. Over a phone call this past summer, Blanco sat down with office to discuss New York culture, revisiting the past, and the intentions behind 'Sin Mañana y Sin Fin.'
Michael Anthony Hall- How long have you lived in New York?
Nadine Blanco- I was born and raised in NY. I’m here now, but I did spend the last five years in LA.
MAH- What are the differences you've witnessed from before you left New York to when you came back?
NB- In my opinion, when it comes to nightlife, I feel like people danced more at shows, and there were more spaces to just enjoy nightlife. You could walk around certain streets, hear music coming from a loft somewhere, go in, and just dance. Certain areas feel more populated now, which has made things less inviting, I think, for those specific situations. I still love New York, but the city moves really fast; there are always new faces and new scenes.
MAH- From observation, New York has become so expensive and difficult to live in and survive.
NB- Yes, that's a reality for many people, especially for many NY natives and creatives. People are moving farther or just leaving the city for different reasons.
MAH- But as you say, it's still one of the most creative places in the country and the world, so you want to be tapped in. I want to talk about your transition from your teenage years to adulthood in New York. What was occupying your days? What were your driving forces when you were younger?
NB- I really loved dance, visual arts, and other art forms, but transitioning into adulthood, the focus on my education and money started to take up more thought. I was kind of lost when I was younger, and I just didn't really have an idea of how to funnel my interests for something bigger than myself.
MAH- When did you start commodifying your love for dancing to help support your life in the city?
NB- I was 19. The experience felt familiar in some good and bad ways.
MAH- Did the people in your life know that you were dancing at clubs, and if so, what were the conversations like?
NB- Only a few of my friends knew; some didn't care, and others were fascinated, but I refrained from letting most people know.
MAH- The culture is becoming more accepting of the lifestyle. What changes have you seen and experienced with people being more comfortable with the commodification of strip club culture?
NB- I’ve seen people who have never stepped foot on stage wear pleasers to parties, haha, which is cute. I’ve experienced more in-depth conversations about the lifestyle and safety of these spaces. I think being more open and allowing for these discussions can lead to more advocacy. Yeah, there's a lot more acceptance these days, I just hope people exercise their critical thinking when it comes to getting involved. You should know what you're getting yourself into.
MAH- Your film Sin Mañana y Sin Fin explores through abstraction the space between a world that is often glamorized and the reality that many aren't aware of. Do you remember the beginnings or initial motivation to create a project exploring your past?
ND- I guess the initial motivation came from just having these crazy stories to tell when I was younger. I always felt like I could use that experience for future creative reference. When I met Jo (22), I wasn't participating in that world at all, but our talks reignited those initial thoughts. Jo had been creating works and producing projects for underground and radical artists around the world with Red Expanse. He's a real powerhouse, and I really respect his perspective, it inspired me. We started talking about the idea over Facetime, and it really snowballed from there. When he got back to LA, we just threw ourselves into filming right away.
MAH- When approaching this project, what was your conversation with Jo, the director, in the beginning stages?
NB- We both had seen a lot of examples of the media taking pieces of this world, along with high fashion, etc, watering it down, and glamorizing it for everyone else. We are people who appreciate raw and real experiences, so we just wanted to show another side that's not always shown. The film isn't sexy.
MAH- The abstractness allows the viewer to attribute their own meaning or understanding. You're just following this woman throughout the night– where you feel connected to her stripped from a hyper-contextualized or overt depiction of a night of a club dancer. It allows insight that feels more boundless than confined in this orchestrated and digestible view of this world. You see the protagonist as a person first and foremost than anything else. This film pieces together real-life footage of you going back into this world, and I wanted to touch on that and ask what it was like going back into these spaces, collecting footage, and simultaneously reconnecting to this time in your life.
NB- It was interesting on many levels. Being in such a different place now, my objectives were very clear. Also, the club I took pictures of was actually closing down that same day, so it felt like a full-circle moment and the literal closing of that chapter. Reconnecting to that time helped me clear up some things about my younger self, and I'd like to think that sharing those findings has offered some guidance to others in those spaces.
MAH- Capturing the last day of the club being open is such an incredible moment because now those photos and this film act as a time capsule, where you can refer to the memories through them. Did you always want photographs to accompany this film?
NB- Jo was very particular about including my photos. The club I photographed, the main floor, is appealing and has character, but when you go upstairs to where the employees rest, it's the complete opposite. We were interested in capturing that duality.
MAH- Both of your guys' creative perspectives really collided, which resulted in this dynamic film housing so many different elements. Also, the film is very personal to you, where the subject is you, instead of an obscure protagonist. That must have also been an adjustment, having this story so intrinsically tied to you. Can you speak to the poem at the end of the film?
NB- Because I’m going back to parts of myself that make me who I am today, I felt it was only right to express the poem in Spanish. The poem is from the perspective of being in a dream. Many institutions have sold this culture as a dream. Sin mana y sin fin translates to without tomorrow without end. I think that phrase alone encompasses living in a way that has no regard for tomorrow, something very freeing but, at the same time, can inflict pain.
Watch the premiere of 'Sin Mañana y Sin Fin' below.
"SIN MANANA Y SIN" from Red Expanse on Vimeo.