Thursday, March 7, 2013

the perfect environment


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the knot of events and experiences that went down on sheridan avenue in 2009-2010 have yet to be made fully public.  in some ways, that's a good thing, and in other ways, a not-so-good thing.

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whenever you hear about a devoted visual artist deciding to suddenly abandon his or her studio, know that that one of two things is probably happening:

1. enormous success
2. enormous failure

certain people around here are always telling me to live in the present.  others are subtly putting the emphasis more on the future.  and a very token few seem to be totally obsessed with the past. 

because bill is a very old and very dear friend, I have allowed him certain liberties with this blog that have been against my better judgment.  oh well.  the readership remains very modest, and most of those who do check in on occasion already know the whole story of sheridan avenue circa 2009-2010.  indeed, they are weary of it, and I can't say that I blame them.  bill and I inaugurated this blog precisely in the spirit of "moving on" with our lives.  those were difficult years, there was drama and storytelling and proto-blogging aplenty- a chair of earth was designed to be a new departure or perhaps a new arrival of sorts.  a new journey, maybe.  a new place, new company, new concerns, new activities.  the magnificence of the new!  the miraculous nature of the new!  can never seem to get enough of the new, it would seem!  

the aforementioned knot of events and experiences were complicated even further by bedbugs.  I'm sorry, this is a word that nobody wants or needs to hear, but it happened, ok?  bill allowed them to get out of hand.  I visited him quite a few times during those difficult months, and let me assure you, they were way way way out of hand.  an infestation, I think the word is.  a little one-room epidemic.  bill was frazzled enough, but this gradually put him over the top.  he abandoned his studio!  does that not tell you everything you need to know in a nutshell?  a devoted visual artist, a studio gradually set up over the course of 8 years to meet all his specifications- the perfect environment.  an environment designed and arranged entirely in the service of visual art.  those were good days for bill.  at some point he's going to not only share some of the studio secrets, but have an actual art show.  before he left, he gathered what he believed to be the most promising works in progress and stashed them in a friend's cellar.  they remain there to this day.

chicago, as many of you know, is a very big and somewhat complicated city.  like other notable urban areas around the world, the high population density coupled with the high international traffic/transience/relocating etc. makes the bedbug problem not one so easily contained.  where precisely bill picked them up remains an uncomfortable mystery.  where they went after bill left also remains an uncomfortable mystery.  if this is starting to sound a little like a venereal disease, well, so be it.  no fun talking about, I assure you, no fun attempting to investigate these things back to their source.  there is no one source, probably.  there are probably underground bedbug societies- people who actually keep them as pets and quietly try to introduce them into the public/private partnerships popping up all over the globe these days.

heavy matters?  depends.  read the winter's tale for shakespeare's take on the question.  it's still very relevant, if you can get past the semi-archaic language.  if he could have visited bill on sheridan things might have turned out very differently.  he might still be there, making art.  collages, mobiles, installations, paintings, sketches, etc.  those were good days for bill, but maybe I've already implied that, and to drone on and on about things that the readership probably already knows about...

well, it's questionable, ok?  it's a questionable tactic. but as a semi-independent blogger, I'm not answerable to any particular reader.  in some ways, that's a good thing, and in other ways, a not-so-good thing.  like almost everything else, it's a situation that "remains up in the air."  as bill's friend, I would personally like to see it a little more grounded, but there's only so much I can do.  bill can sometimes be resistant to my advice and ideas.  on occasion he's even told me to stick the advice and ideas inside a particular cavity where the sun seldom shines.  I of course laughed at this rejoinder because that's the sort of adolescent sense of humor I still sometimes appreciate.  again, that's a good thing, and in other ways, a not-so-good thing.

bill's studio happened to be one of my favorite places in all of chicago.  his sudden decision to abandon it had minor ripple effects that he may not have intended.  maybe he never wanted to see it again, but there were a few of us who did, and we had to deal with our own small sense of personal loss.  if bill's decision was...how shall I put this?...if it was really the best or only thing for him to do at that particular juncture in time...well, who can determine these things?  the fellow was falling apart, no question about it, and he had a bedbug infestation to boot.  he had very little extra money.  he had very little support from the landlord.  heavy matters? depends.  read the burrow by kafka.  he lays it all out pretty clearly.  (pause)  good ol' franz.  gotta love him.

this studio of bill's was in uptown, a neighborhood on the north side close to the lake.  this proximity to a massive water supply probably constituted the single most important advantage of bill's decision to stay where he was for so long.   the primordial business, right?  the crouching down and lapping it up like an animal.  those were good days for bill.  wait.  I'm sorry.  I think I've already mentioned that.  I need to keep moving forward.  what was that I said a little earlier?  a new journey, maybe?  a new place, new company, new concerns, new activities?

I don't know.  I've said a lot of things recently.  and I've let bill take some liberties that were probably not in the best possible taste.  oh well.  the fellow was falling apart- he needed a certain degree of time and space to get his shit back together.