You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
284 •NOV 20<strong>19</strong><br />
GINO<br />
BELASSEN<br />
MERRYN ALAKA & MIGUEL MONZON • MEDIO COMPLETO • GRACE ROLLAND
Opening<br />
<strong>Nov</strong>ember 8<br />
Step inside one of Africa’s most<br />
powerful and enduring art forms<br />
In partnership with<br />
Presenting sponsor<br />
MIM.org | Open Daily 9 a.m.–5 p.m. | 4725 E. Mayo Blvd., Phoenix
David Hockney’s Yosemite<br />
David Hockney, Yosemite I, October 16th 2011<br />
iPad drawing printed on four sheets of paper (38 7/8 x 34 7/8” each), mounted on four sheets of Dibond. Edition 1 of 12,<br />
77 3/4 x 69 3/4” overall. © David Hockney, Photo Credit: Richard Schmidt<br />
Collection The David Hockney Foundation
Masters of California Basketry<br />
Experience the work of one of the World’s greatest<br />
living artists together with the Masters of California Basketry<br />
only at the Heard Museum<br />
FOR A LIMITED TIME | OCTOBER 28, 20<strong>19</strong> – APRIL 5, 2020<br />
Heard.org/Hockney<br />
Carrie Bethel, Mono Lake Paiute, 1898-<strong>19</strong>74<br />
Bowl basket, <strong>19</strong>56. 13 x 25 inches. Split sedge root, dyed bracken fern root, split winter redbud<br />
shoots, willow shoots. Collection of Stevia Thompson.<br />
Photo Credit: Craig Smith, Heard Museum.
CONTENTS<br />
8<br />
12<br />
22<br />
30<br />
34<br />
FEATURES<br />
Cover: Gino Belassen<br />
Photo by: Susan Allred Prosser<br />
8 12 22<br />
34<br />
SHERRI & GINO BELASSEN<br />
The Mother & Son Duo Behind<br />
Belhaus Gallery<br />
By Susan Allred Prosser<br />
MERRYN ALAKA AND MIGUEL<br />
MONZÓN<br />
Modified Arts Turns 20 and Looks Forward<br />
By Rembrandt Quiballo<br />
CHANGING WINDS<br />
Photographer, Stylist, Creative Director:<br />
Rachel Callahan<br />
ALL OF US TOGETHER<br />
Art, Water, Community, and Culture<br />
By Morgan Moore<br />
GRACE ROLLAND<br />
Rising Sun Daughter<br />
By Tom Reardon<br />
COLUMNS<br />
7<br />
16<br />
20<br />
38<br />
40<br />
BUZZ<br />
<strong>Nov</strong>ember Together<br />
By Robert Sentinery<br />
ARTS<br />
Jennifer McCabe<br />
Curating Counter-Landscapes at SMoCA<br />
By Grant Vetter<br />
Brian Boner<br />
American Playground<br />
By Jenna Duncan<br />
FOOD FETISH<br />
Through the Doors of Persepshen<br />
By Sloane Burwell<br />
GIRL ON FARMER<br />
Showtime<br />
By Celia Beresford<br />
NIGHT GALLERY<br />
Photos by Robert Sentinery<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> MAGAZINE<br />
EDITOR & PUBLISHER<br />
Robert Sentinery<br />
ART DIRECTOR<br />
Victor Vasquez<br />
ARTS EDITOR<br />
Rembrandt Quiballo<br />
FOOD EDITOR<br />
Sloane Burwell<br />
CONTRIBUTING EDITOR<br />
Jenna Duncan<br />
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS<br />
Celia Beresford<br />
Mikey Foster Estes<br />
Kevin Hanlon<br />
Morgan Moore<br />
Ashley Naftule<br />
John Perovich<br />
Susan Allred Prosser<br />
Tom Reardon<br />
Grant Vetter<br />
Justen Siyuan Waterhouse<br />
PROOFREADER<br />
Patricia Sanders<br />
CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS<br />
Rachel Callahan<br />
Enrique Garcia<br />
Johnny Jaffe<br />
ADVERTISING<br />
(602) 574-6364<br />
Java Magazine<br />
Copyright © 20<strong>19</strong><br />
All rights reserved.<br />
Reproduction in whole or in part of any text, photograph<br />
or illustration is strictly prohibited without the written<br />
permission of the publisher. The publisher does not<br />
assume responsibility for unsolicited submissions.<br />
Publisher assumes no liability for the information<br />
contained herein; all statements are the sole opinions<br />
of the contributors and/or advertisers.<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> MAGAZINE<br />
PO Box 45448 Phoenix, AZ 85064<br />
email: javamag@cox.net<br />
tel: (480) 966-6352<br />
www.javamagaz.com<br />
6 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
BUZZ<br />
NOVEMBER TOGETHER<br />
By Robert Sentinery<br />
This month, we delve into the idea of collaboration, and how working together<br />
can create a whole that’s greater than the sum of its parts. On Roosevelt Row,<br />
Modified Arts has been a longstanding staple. Established as a music venue<br />
and creative space in the late ’90s by avid localist Kimber Lanning, Modified<br />
was at the forefront of the First Friday boom that brought art-hungry crowds<br />
downtown. Now, as the space turns 20, having survived the twists and turns of<br />
the marketplace, a new gallerist duo, appointed by Lanning, is bringing a fresh<br />
perspective to the space.<br />
Merryn Alaka and Miguel Monzón are both recent art school graduates. They<br />
come from diverse backgrounds. Alaka’s father was born in Nigeria and was<br />
attending pharmacy school in Indianapolis when he met and married her mother.<br />
Monzón is a first-generation American, born to Mexican immigrant parents,<br />
who spent his formative years here in the Valley. Together, Alaka and Monzón<br />
bring unique, multifaceted perspective to Modified Arts, curating shows that are<br />
extremely relevant to our current state of culture (see “Merryn Alaka and Miguel<br />
Monzón: Modified Arts Turns 20 and Looks Forward,” p. 12).<br />
Another duo – the mother and son team of Sherri and Gino Belassen – is shaking<br />
up the art scene on Grand Avenue. Their Belhaus Gallery (a fusion of their last name<br />
with “Bauhaus,” the venerable German design school/movement) shows work by local<br />
and international artists, including their own. It’s also a place to grab an excellent<br />
espresso drink, whenever the gallery’s distinctive roll-up garage door is open.<br />
Sherri has been a full-time artist for decades, having hustled in the studio<br />
while raising her two boys as a single mother. When a sports injury got Gino<br />
thinking about a different career track than what was expected (his dad is a<br />
sports agent), Sherri was one-hundred-percent supportive of his turn to art.<br />
Gino’s recent painting show at Shortcut Gallery was a smash success, attended<br />
by a who’s-who of the local creative scene (see “Sherri and Gino Belassen: The<br />
Mother & Son Duo Behind Belhaus Gallery,” p. 8).<br />
Water is the lifeblood of our arid desert city. In 2018, the Arizona Community<br />
Foundation launched the Water Public Art Challenge, a competition calling for<br />
projects that explored ancient water systems developed by the “Hohokam”<br />
people. One of the most impressive entries was a collaboration between<br />
Audubon Arizona, the Huhugam Heritage Center (serving the contemporary<br />
tribes descended from the “Hohokam”), and a local artist collective called Medio<br />
Completo, composed primarily of Latinx creatives.<br />
These three groups joined forces under the moniker Vesich eth ve:m, which<br />
translates to “all of us together,” to produce a multimedia immersive art<br />
experience titled We Are Still Here. Composed of soundscapes, sculptures,<br />
augmented-reality murals, film projections, bookmaking, and performance, it<br />
tells stories of Huhugam history, woven together with the community’s continued<br />
connection to the river. We Are Still Here culminates in a one-night-only<br />
performance on Saturday, <strong>Nov</strong>ember 16, 6:30 to 8:00 p.m. at the Nina Mason<br />
Pulliam Rio Salado Audubon Center (see “All of Us Together:<br />
Art, Water, Community, and Culture,” p. 30).
8 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE<br />
Photo: Susan Allred Prosser
Sherri Belassen greets visitors to her gallery and studio with a warm smile<br />
and a large, loping Weimaraner named Bizou. Her son Gino, just a few steps<br />
behind, has an equally engaging smile.<br />
The morning sun is pouring in through the open garage door at Belhaus Gallery,<br />
where a select group of minimalist contemporary paintings hang in a space custombuilt<br />
to house the art and a gleaming espresso machine. The machine is topped by a<br />
collection of espresso and coffee cups sourced from Scandinavia.<br />
Artists’ work from all over the globe – from New York to London to Poland then back<br />
around to Los Angeles and Phoenix – complete the cosmopolitan vibe at Belhaus. Even<br />
the gallery’s name is a mashup of the owners’ last name and the Bauhaus art movement.<br />
As we pass behind the espresso machine to duck into a bright, open space containing<br />
two studios, Sherri offers a coffee and waves her hand. “This is where we work,” she<br />
says. “The coffee and the gallery [up front] help form a sense of community.”<br />
“It works very well, too,” Gino adds. “We have people drive in from Chandler, all<br />
around really, to come hang out in the gallery and drink Fio’s coffee.”<br />
Fio is Anthony Fiorelli, the owner of Caffio Espresso, which operates from Belhaus<br />
during gallery hours (Thursday – Sunday, 10 a.m. – 2 p.m.) and at various markets<br />
and private events from the back of a Vespa Apé truck. “We couldn’t make it here<br />
without Fio,” Gino continues. “When he’s here, the gallery is open and we don’t<br />
have to worry about anything. We can take care of our own work.”<br />
For Gino, that work is varied and wide ranging. He studied design and advertising<br />
before earning a BFA from Chapman University in Orange County. He’s working with<br />
a friend on building BonesFC (Bones Football Collective), where soccer fandom,<br />
apparel, and art meet.<br />
Gino’s paintings are minimalist contemporary, like the artists Belhaus represents.<br />
“We want to make sure that it all works well together. It has to blend well. All of<br />
our work, mine, my mom’s, and our artists’, can hang together cohesively,” he said.<br />
But an art career wasn’t Gino’s original plan. As a soccer player at Arcadia High, Gino<br />
grew up thinking he’d work in sports. “I was very lucky to play with a creative coach<br />
who encouraged me to think improvisationally on the field. I learned quick thinking<br />
and had an internal understanding of the game,” he says.<br />
“I thought both the boys might be sports agents like their dad,” Sherri said. But that<br />
wasn’t to be. An injury in high school sidelined Gino for two years, so he started<br />
thinking about what to do while he waited to get back on the field.<br />
“I always saw my mom painting, and I saw how hard she worked to make her art<br />
and to support us,” he says. “During that two years [spent recuperating], I started<br />
thinking about how to channel my creativity into painting.”<br />
As a single mother with two boys to support, Sherri never thought about doing<br />
anything other than making and selling her art. She didn’t see any reason why Gino<br />
should do anything else, either. Sherri had always encouraged him to paint as a<br />
child, and Gino didn’t think that being an artist was out of the ordinary.<br />
“I’m so lucky,” he says. “I have a lot of friends who want to be artists, and they<br />
have to get permission from their parents to study art. It’s always a negotiation with<br />
them. My mom just said, ‘Yeah, go be an artist.’”<br />
Sherri immediately agrees. “I told him to go paint. If that’s what you want, go and paint.”<br />
But she also passed down some practical wisdom from her own mother. “Mom<br />
always used to say that if anything is worth doing, it’s worth doing well. I’ve always<br />
applied that to my life and to my art,” she says.<br />
Photo: Lorenzo Belassen, @lorenzobelassen<br />
She came by those heartland values honestly. Sherri was raised in Indiana, and<br />
earned a BFA in painting from Indiana University in Bloomington. While she was<br />
in college, her parents bought the town of Tortilla Flat, so she came to Arizona<br />
after graduation. She soon met a gallerist from Dallas who offered to represent<br />
her. That allowed her to get a studio in downtown Phoenix. So for her, finding<br />
studio space in the Bragg Pie Factory building is a return to her artistic roots.<br />
“I’ve come full circle by working down here again,” she says.<br />
Sherri rented the space three years ago during a downsizing period. She wanted a<br />
studio that wasn’t in her now-smaller home. The impetus for creating the gallery<br />
came from Gino. After college, he applied to an art fair in Australia. The notice<br />
that he’d been accepted prompted him to complete about 20 pieces in two and<br />
half months. He sold 13 pieces at the fair and realized that he had what it took to<br />
create and sell his work.<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> 9<br />
MAGAZINE
Photo: Cole Seefus, @cseef<br />
When he returned to the States, Gino and Sherri put their heads together to decide<br />
where he should head next. “Obviously, I thought about New York,” he said.<br />
“He could have gone nearly anywhere,” Sherri chimes in. “We have family in Paris,<br />
Spain, Copenhagen. There were so many possibilities.” Gino takes up the story<br />
again. “But I kept coming back to Phoenix and looking around. This is home. I grew<br />
up here. I realized that I wanted to stay.”<br />
So one evening while he was visiting Sherri at her new studio, he looked around at<br />
all the space, then filled with overflow from her downsizing. “I realized that there’s<br />
enough space here for two studios. And so I started helping Mom get rid of all that<br />
extra stuff,” he said.<br />
Soon the two Belassens were living and working together. They both say it’s a great<br />
situation for them. In one way, ironing out their differences in work style led to<br />
creating the gallery. Sherri likes long hours of solitude while she works. But Gino<br />
loves being around people and making new friends. He quickly realized that the<br />
growing crowds around the other galleries on Grand Avenue presented a chance to<br />
build the community he’d wanted to find back when he was exploring moving to a<br />
larger city with more opportunities for artists.<br />
“I realized that we could be a part of building that culture right here. I want<br />
that culture, and this is home, so why not figure out how to create the culture I<br />
want?” But first he had to find a way to integrate the space and pull traffic from<br />
Grand Avenue. Belhaus is located on McKinley, around the corner from the main<br />
foot traffic on First and Third Fridays. So they built a couple of movable walls to<br />
separate the gallery from their studios. Gino also knew that he wanted to bring in<br />
an expert to run the coffee shop that he hoped would draw people in. So he went<br />
on Instagram and looked for what he needed.<br />
“I found Fio pretty quickly and Instagram-messaged him. He showed up here<br />
within an hour. Before he left, we all felt like family,” he said.<br />
“Yes,” laughed Sherri. “I call him my third kid.” To draw people in from the street,<br />
Gino and Sherri installed strip LED lighting around the garage door. You can see<br />
the bright lights from Grand Avenue when the gallery is open, but the lighting has<br />
another, more community-oriented purpose.<br />
10 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
Photo: Cole Seefus, @cseef<br />
“People come and take selfies when the garage door is down,” Gino said, showing<br />
Instagram pictures of kids framed against the door after dark. They intentionally<br />
installed the light switch outside the building so people could use the lighting to take<br />
their photos. “We love it when people use the gallery as a backdrop,” Sherri said. She<br />
just wants everybody to remember to turn the lights back off when they’re done.<br />
The Belassens say they weren’t especially prescient about the center of gravity<br />
that was building in the Grand Avenue art scene. But they feel fortunate to be a<br />
part of the community there. The gallery will have extended hours (10 a.m. to 8<br />
p.m.) for the Grand Avenue Festival on <strong>Nov</strong>ember 9.<br />
They’re getting ready for a show set to open on December 6, called “Bad<br />
Neighborhood.” Caffio Espresso will be open, and they’ll have live music outside.<br />
The show will feature their own work, plus that of Preston Paperboy, one of<br />
their represented artists. “We’re still deciding who else to include,” said Gino.<br />
“The name of the show and the names of the pieces we’re choosing are a little<br />
tweak for some people who might still have the idea that artists only work in bad<br />
parts of town.”<br />
That couldn’t be further from reality, says Sherri. She points out that while<br />
it’s true that artists have always been at the forefront of gentrification of the<br />
neighborhoods they live in, Grand Avenue has changed in the three years that<br />
she’s been there. There are more galleries and more coffee shops and restaurants<br />
opening all the time.<br />
The building across McKinley from the gallery has been vacant for years, Gino<br />
said. But it recently sold to someone who’d been watching the neighborhood<br />
become more commercial.<br />
“He told us that he felt comfortable buying that building by seeing us succeed. I<br />
feel really good about that,” he said.<br />
And he should. Belhaus Gallery is helping to create a sense of culture that the<br />
Belassens want to live and work in.<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> 11<br />
MAGAZINE
Merryn Alaka and Miguel Monzón<br />
Modified Arts Turns 20 and Looks Forward<br />
By Rembrandt Quiballo<br />
12 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE<br />
Photo: Rembrandt Quiballo
Miguel Monzón, “Searching” 20<strong>19</strong><br />
As Roosevelt Row undergoes drastic<br />
changes, Modified Arts has been a bedrock,<br />
although not without going through its<br />
own evolution. Founded by longtime<br />
community leader Kimber Lanning, it embodies the<br />
spirit of downtown Phoenix in its ability to persevere<br />
and adapt.<br />
Modified Arts started out as a music and<br />
performance venue in <strong>19</strong>99 and transitioned to an<br />
art gallery in 2010. Local First Arizona and its offices<br />
took residence in the space in 2013, allowing the<br />
gallery to be open full time. In 2018, it went through<br />
renovations that would define the storefront gallery<br />
as what it is now.<br />
Through it all, Modified Arts has shown some of the<br />
best contemporary art in the Valley. This is thanks<br />
to the people who put in the hard work behind the<br />
scenes. It continues to evolve and looks to the future<br />
by entrusting its programming to two individuals with<br />
diverse backgrounds: Merryn Alaka, a transplant from<br />
the Midwest, and Miguel Monzón, a first-generation<br />
Mexican-American who grew up in Phoenix.<br />
As such a young city, Phoenix is not burdened with<br />
tradition like other major metropolitan areas. These<br />
two up-and-coming artists/curators in the local scene<br />
embody the forward thinking that Modified Arts has<br />
always been known for. Both fresh out of art school,<br />
they have been learning on the job, with a knowledge<br />
of the past and bright eyes toward the future.<br />
Merryn Alaka was born and raised in Indianapolis,<br />
Indiana. Her Nigerian father was in the pharmacy<br />
program at Purdue University when he met her<br />
American mother, then studying nutrition and<br />
dietetics. They would marry and have three kids, with<br />
Merryn being the youngest. Her immediate family<br />
was more into the hard sciences than the creative<br />
arts. However, Alaka had an aunt, a practicing artist,<br />
who made an impression on her as an adolescent.<br />
“I didn’t have a direct art influence in my immediate<br />
family,” she said. “Growing up, I always wanted to<br />
be really close with my cool aunt. She is actually an<br />
artist. I definitely admired her – I thought she was<br />
really great. She mostly did collage-based work. I<br />
looked up to her and was inspired by her.”<br />
Alaka became even more interested in art when<br />
she attended a high school specializing in the arts.<br />
Eventually she would enter the Herberger Institute<br />
for Design and the Arts at Arizona State University.<br />
She was attracted to the quality of the program and<br />
the fact that it was far from home. She would be<br />
challenged by her professors to create work that she<br />
cared about. “I had a critique in class once,” she said.<br />
“My teacher just totally tore my work apart and was<br />
like, ‘This doesn’t even seem like something you’re<br />
passionate about.’ After that critique, I cried.”<br />
Alaka would grow as an artist in school by<br />
overcoming adversity. She would look within herself<br />
to examine what she was passionate about. Her<br />
father always had an appreciation for art, especially<br />
art from his hometown of Lagos, Nigeria, such as<br />
rugs and textiles. Alaka began exploring her heritage<br />
diligently and would be inspired to make work about<br />
her unique background.<br />
After her parents divorced, Alaka grew apart from<br />
her father, but her renewed interest in her family<br />
history rekindled their relationship. She would<br />
take old family photographs and incorporate them<br />
with African motifs, creating pieces that were<br />
aesthetically seductive but evocative of a deeper<br />
personal history.<br />
Being a transplant, Alaka was not yet aware of the<br />
thriving art scene in Phoenix and saw Modified Arts<br />
as a way to get involved. She started working at the<br />
gallery just as Miguel Monzón was taking over as<br />
director for the space. “Miguel and I, we get along<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> 13<br />
MAGAZINE
Merryn Alaka, “Not Your Mixed Baby Fetish”<br />
Miguel Monzón, “Angel” 20<strong>19</strong><br />
really well,” she said. “I think we make a good pair at Modified. We kind of had<br />
the same idea for the type of work we wanted to show at the gallery. We wanted<br />
something unique each month or something different. We didn’t want to just have<br />
painting shows or drawing shows. I mean, we do those, but we also wanted the<br />
work to have some conceptual meaning.”<br />
Miguel Monzón was born in San Bernardino, California. His parents came to the<br />
U.S. from Mexico, making him a first-generation American. His family moved to<br />
Las Vegas for a couple of years, then on to Phoenix for good. Monzón grew up in<br />
the Valley and feels much affection for the area. “When people ask me, ‘Where<br />
you from?’ I’m just like, pretty much I’m from Phoenix, man. I grew up here. All my<br />
youth was spent here. I was on the streets skating, you know – Phoenix is home.”<br />
He drew voraciously growing up. He would render people and creatures from<br />
real life as well as his imagination. After high school, Monzón started attending<br />
community college. He knew he had the talent for art but that things wouldn’t<br />
come easy. “It was that whole period of what are you going to do with your life?”<br />
he said. “I was aware that art was not an easy path. It was going to be a lot of<br />
work. You’re going to have to be self-motivated to do this. No one’s going to make<br />
you do anything. I just decided to go with art and follow my passion. I started<br />
trying to learn about art as much as possible. Honestly, I didn’t set foot into a<br />
museum until I was like 18.”<br />
This delayed exposure to the arts would not deter Monzón, it would just make<br />
him even more determined. He started watching documentaries about art, reading<br />
books about artists, and, of course, going to art museums. He came at art with a<br />
fresh outlook. He learned about the tradition of painting and the masters, but he<br />
was attracted to the ideas conveyed by the work.<br />
Merryn Alaka, “America(nah)”<br />
“I realized that I was more interested in the concept or what was behind the work,”<br />
he said. “What is it that made you make this piece? What does it mean? So because of<br />
that, I chose to go into intermedia. Then also, I had learned about these other artists<br />
that were doing work that’s not just something on a wall. I was interested in<br />
learning more about non-traditional art, so that’s when I transferred to ASU.”<br />
Monzón as a maker is not tied to any medium. He works in all kinds of media,<br />
from drawing to printmaking to video. He chooses the medium that will best<br />
express his ideas for each body of work. This leads to the creation of diverse<br />
artworks. He is always experimenting with materials and ideas, relentless in his<br />
pursuit of a higher truth, but always remembering where he came from.<br />
Alaka and Monzón took all the knowledge learned in school and put it into<br />
practice when they started working at Modified Arts. They both had a willingness<br />
to learn and a positive attitude of wanting to contribute to the art scene. Kimber<br />
Lanning took a chance on them, and they’ve been paying dividends since then.<br />
“I was basically assisting Connor Descheemaker (Modified’s former gallery<br />
director),” Monzón said. “Trying to absorb what it’s like to run an art gallery. At the<br />
time, he was working for Local First also. He was just inundated with work, and<br />
then he was doing Modified on the side. Anything I could help with – that was<br />
what I was there for.”<br />
“It’s been great to have the support from Kimber Lanning,” Alaka said. “She leaves<br />
a lot of the things to us, but she’s always been so supportive. She wants us to use<br />
the space however we see fit.”<br />
They put forth their vision of what they want to show at the gallery in a thoughtful<br />
manner. The first show Monzón fully curated was called Within and Without, a<br />
14 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
AN ART<br />
BOUTIQUE HOTEL<br />
with inspiration<br />
and comfort in the<br />
HEART OF<br />
DOWNTOWN<br />
PHOENIX<br />
Merryn Alaka, “It’s Mine, I Bought It”collab with Sam Fresquez<br />
printmaking group exhibition that explored the artists’ inner visions and how<br />
they relate to the external world.<br />
Alaka curated one of the most important shows in Phoenix last year,<br />
Americana. It featured artists of African lineage, all based in Arizona, who<br />
were exploring racial identity in the context of our current political climate.<br />
In the meantime, Modified Arts will be celebrating its 20th anniversary through<br />
a historical exhibition of photographs and memorabilia, along with a showcase of<br />
artists who have shown there in the past. It will be a celebration of the gallery’s<br />
standing in downtown Phoenix, but also an opportunity to speak about the changes<br />
that are occurring and what they mean for the future of the arts in the Valley.<br />
“If there’s anything I can say about Modified,” Monzón said, “the name’s<br />
perfect. That’s what we are. We are adaptable. We are fluid. We are very<br />
open, and I think that has to do with the fact that Kimber Lanning is the owner.<br />
I think since she runs Local First, and she’s so focused on local community and<br />
helping people in the local scene, it’s almost more about the community aspect<br />
of it. It’s more about allowing or helping people that maybe don’t have access<br />
to or know where to go to see local art to have a place to go. I think that really<br />
kind of captures what Modified is.”<br />
MATCH Restaurant & Lounge<br />
Steps from the Roosevelt Light Rail Station<br />
104 Guestrooms with Floor-to-Ceiling Windows<br />
Over 6,000 sq. ft.of Flexible Meeting Space<br />
20 Years of Modified Arts<br />
Modified Arts<br />
<strong>Nov</strong>ember 15 through December 13<br />
Opening reception <strong>Nov</strong>ember 15, 6:00 – 9:00 p.m.<br />
www.modifiedarts.org<br />
@merrynalaka<br />
@monzonrojo<br />
1100 North Central Avenue • Phoenix, Arizona 85003<br />
FOUNDREHotels.com • MATCHPhx.com
ARTS<br />
JENNIFER MCCABE CURATING COUNTER-LANDSCAPES AT SMOCA<br />
By Grant Vetter<br />
The exhibition Counter-Landscapes: Performative<br />
Actions from the <strong>19</strong>70s–Now at SMoCA is both a<br />
curatorial and an artistic triumph. It celebrates the<br />
work of three generations of the most important<br />
performance artists, including the likes of Marina<br />
Abramović, Francis Alÿs, VALIE EXPORT, and Adrian<br />
Piper, to name a few. The breadth of the artists<br />
selected by museum director and chief curator<br />
Jennifer McCabe, which includes 24 in total, provides<br />
a concise and thought-provoking survey of the kinds<br />
of motivations that have been often overlooked in the<br />
history of the genre.<br />
Of course, the idea of counter-landscapes is a<br />
reference to the work of the French philosopher<br />
Michel Foucault, who defended the notion of<br />
counter-memories as those that have been repressed<br />
or marginalized: memories of happenings that the<br />
status quo could not accommodate. Starting from this<br />
premise, we could say that works like Abramović’s<br />
“Looking at the Mountains” is a counter-landscape<br />
in the sense of inverting the iconic image of Caspar<br />
David Friedrich’s “Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog.”<br />
Friedrich’s painting of a rather well-dressed man at<br />
the summit of a high mountain peak is considered<br />
by many to be the epitome of Romantic art because<br />
it provides an image of mankind overcoming nature,<br />
where the mind is set free by the sublime expanse<br />
of pure metaphysical contemplation, and the gaze<br />
places humanity in the position of being both the<br />
pinnacle and surveyor of the natural world.<br />
Abramović’s work is a counter-landscape inasmuch<br />
as it inverts all three of these premises by situating<br />
the artist between the heavens and earth, where<br />
the image places her firmly in this world, and the<br />
darkened clouds above provide a sense of existential<br />
isolation rather than metaphysical mastery.<br />
A different kind of counter-landscape, aiming<br />
to challenge the ideals of the Enlightenment as<br />
much as those of Romanticism, can be found in<br />
the works of Agnes Denes. Her three images from<br />
the Wheatfield series serve not just to question the<br />
narratives of progress and civilization but to highlight<br />
how skyscrapers provide corporate CEOs with a<br />
Friedrichesque worldview from atop, in their offices<br />
and boardrooms, albeit places decidedly removed<br />
from nature.<br />
But, of course, this is the point, and these three<br />
photographs can also be read as a three-act<br />
play of sorts, with the first image revealing the<br />
detritus of modern civilization set off against one<br />
of the greatest symbols of the Enlightenment – the<br />
Statue of Liberty. The next shows us an expanse<br />
of unharvested grain, demonstrating the power of<br />
reclamation, but not just in a literal sense. Rather,<br />
the juxtaposition of field and figure, the latter bearing<br />
the words of the poet Emma Lazarus, serves to<br />
underscore an expanded notion of “liberty, equality,<br />
and fraternity.” Denes’ project points to the hope of<br />
reclaiming a lost sense of congress between nature,<br />
people, and the greater ecology of exchanges that<br />
make up modern life.<br />
This is highlighted by the third photograph from<br />
Wheatfield, which struck a chord at the height of<br />
the environmental art movement, but which reads<br />
differently today with the World Trade Center<br />
pictured in the background. The image now occupies<br />
the place of a memory as much as it functions as<br />
documentation. Denes’ work, and the space allotted<br />
to the twin towers, becomes even more relevant<br />
for having pictured the place where a conflict<br />
over capitalism, the first and third worlds, and<br />
secularism and fundamentalism would eventually<br />
explode in an act of terror. In this way, we learn that<br />
counter-landscapes always already contain countermemories,<br />
and that the archeology of images from<br />
our past can come to haunt our understanding of the<br />
future.<br />
It is this temporal element that is highlighted<br />
throughout the exhibition as we encounter<br />
Mendieta’s symbolically charged acts with her body<br />
and the earth, or Piper’s critique of silenced minority<br />
positions, as well as Pope L.’s profound performances<br />
about the grueling struggle for artistic recognition<br />
in an art world that continues to be permeated by<br />
racism. These works and others in the show are part<br />
of the profound archive that McCabe has assembled<br />
in order to highlight how we think about various<br />
genealogies of artistic disciplines that have not only<br />
challenged the status quo but have forever changed<br />
the art world as we know it.<br />
Counter-Landscapes: Performative Actions from the <strong>19</strong>70s–Now<br />
Through January <strong>19</strong>, 2020<br />
Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art (SMoCA)<br />
www.smoca.org<br />
16 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
Agnes Denes<br />
Wheatfield--A Confrontation: Battery Park Landfill,<br />
Downtown Manhattan--With New York Financial Center<br />
<strong>19</strong>82, C-print, 16 x 20 inches<br />
Courtesy of the artist and Leslie Tonkonow Artworks + Projects<br />
Pope.L<br />
The Great White Way: 22 miles, 5 years, 1 street (Segment<br />
#1: December 29, 2001), 2001-2006<br />
Video installation, 6:35 minutes<br />
Courtesy of the artist and Mitchell-Innes & Nash, New York<br />
Antonia Wright<br />
Under the Water Was Sand, The Rocks, Miles of Rocks, Then Fire<br />
2017, Single channel video, night blooming jasmine plants,<br />
fragrance, boxes, and shop lights, 2:20 minutes<br />
Courtesy of the artist and Locust Projectst<br />
Ana Teresa Fernández<br />
Of Bodies and Borders 1 (performance documentation)<br />
2017, Oil on canvas, 54 x 94 inches<br />
Courtesy of the artist and Gallery Wendi Norris<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> 17<br />
MAGAZINE
BRIAN BONER<br />
AMERICAN PLAYGROUND<br />
By Jenna Duncan<br />
“I grew up in a very rural part of America, you know,<br />
the Midwest,” painter Brian Boner says. “When you<br />
have kids, you have this baseline of, ‘Well, this is<br />
how I grew up, maybe this is how my kids will grow<br />
up.’ But my kids are growing up in a city in the desert,<br />
whereas I grew up in a small town in the forest.”<br />
Boner’s new collection of paintings, American<br />
Playground, combines contemporary images with<br />
some family photos, and also images symbolic of his<br />
childhood and the new world he is experiencing as a<br />
father, with his two sons.<br />
Boner grew up in Rapid City, South Dakota, near the<br />
Black Hills, a town he describes as “small, but not<br />
horribly small.” He went to college in Minnesota and<br />
Montana (got a bachelor’s in painting and drawing),<br />
and he says after too many days of 60-below winters,<br />
he had to move on to someplace warmer.<br />
But critical geography is not the only big difference<br />
between Boner’s childhood and that of his sons.<br />
After college, Boner and some friends moved to<br />
Tempe. He used to visit his grandparents there<br />
with his family in the winters, so he was familiar<br />
with the terrain. Once he started getting into the art<br />
scene, he moved downtown.<br />
“I met Greg [Esser] and Cindy [Dash]. They were renovating<br />
a house on 6th Street,” he says. “My studio<br />
was a garage that you could open from both ends.”<br />
While living in the Roosevelt arts district, Boner met<br />
his wife-to-be, artist Christina Ramirez, at the Long<br />
House. Boner worked for Phoenix Art Group about<br />
two years and became further connected with local<br />
artists. Then, he supported himself solely from the<br />
sales of his paintings.<br />
“I’d pick up the odd job installing things, for Scottsdale<br />
Museum of Contemporary Art or various galleries.<br />
Or I’d pick up a job teaching art for a couple of<br />
days.” But when the economy turned sour, he found<br />
himself in the position of needing a day job again.<br />
Through a friend, he signed on with Art Solutions,<br />
fine art installers. He’s been with the company more<br />
than 10 years and says he likes the work and the<br />
flexibility. He was able to take six months to paint<br />
full-time in order to prepare for this show.<br />
Some paintings are still lifes – a handful of alphabet<br />
magnets, an image of a Jackelope – while others<br />
combine imagery taken from a variety of sources in a<br />
sort of collage of new meaning. One painting shows<br />
his youngest son, Elias, standing before an American<br />
bison. The bison appears to be about to drink water<br />
from a blue plastic kiddy pool. In the background is<br />
the white house his father grew up in, and a barn<br />
wall painted with white and red stripes, emblematic<br />
of the American flag.<br />
Another painting shows a collection of antique school<br />
desks that seem to drip with electric colors (some<br />
hidden purples, corners of green) as if emerging from<br />
a dream of nostalgia. Boner says these desks were<br />
discovered in the attic of his family’s ranch in South<br />
Dakota. They came from the old schoolhouse that<br />
18 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
used to exist miles down the road. How they ended<br />
up in his family’s possession is a mystery.<br />
“I come from a long line of educators,” Boner says,<br />
listing his great-aunt, grandmother, mother, and<br />
father. The idea of handing down family knowledge<br />
through the generations is certainly one<br />
theme in this show.<br />
Occasionally, firearms and animal predators that are<br />
hunted appear in his paintings. Boner explains that<br />
his dad was an avid hunter: “He’d shoot anything!”<br />
Sometimes there would be big game hanging in<br />
the family garage, blood draining and waiting<br />
to be skinned by his dad. He tried hunting a few<br />
times, but after shooting his first deer, he decided it<br />
wasn’t for him.<br />
One of the juxtaposed-image paintings depicts<br />
Boner’s older son, Jasper, standing on the walkway to<br />
the family’s front door, armed with a squirt gun. Jasper<br />
appears to be defending two bunnies who cower<br />
together in the foyer. “Guardian of the Innocents”<br />
came about after his son asked him one day, “Dad,<br />
how do bunnies protect themselves?”<br />
The Americana motif appears in many images, as<br />
well, in the use of stars, stripes, and other imagery<br />
associated with nationalism. But the message is<br />
neither pro nor anti-homeland. It’s a subtle suggestion<br />
of the ways our nation has changed from Brian’s<br />
generation of children to that of his own. At every<br />
turn, there are hints of danger, suggestions that some<br />
presence or power might be lying in wait.<br />
These amalgams provide an intriguing dialogue<br />
between the pastoral, perhaps of Brian’s upbringing,<br />
and today’s real world, one in which his boys are<br />
growing up surrounded by screens, with the threat<br />
of things like social media bullying and witnessing a<br />
burning car in the middle of the street.<br />
American Playground<br />
Through <strong>Nov</strong>ember 21<br />
Fiat Lux Gallery<br />
69<strong>19</strong> E. 1st Ave., Scottsdale<br />
Open to the public from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Thursdays and other<br />
times by appointment<br />
“Barracade” 60”x64” oil on canvas<br />
“Trajectory 48”x39” oil on canvas<br />
“This is a Test” 48”x48” oil on canvas<br />
“In the Velvet” 38”x38” oil on canvas<br />
“Roadside Attraction” 38”x29” oil on canvas<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> <strong>19</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
Through the Doors of<br />
Persepshen<br />
By Sloane Burwell<br />
My friends and I have been fans of Persepshen (one of the bad things about<br />
having a phonetic spelling of your restaurant name is that it looks funny in print)<br />
since they rolled out their food truck at the Uptown Farmers Market a couple of<br />
years ago. Their meat sticks were fabulous. I became addicted to their curried<br />
pickled cauliflower. Their gorgeous breads are almost too pretty to eat. The dish<br />
that locked in our love was a round, hot, fresh sourdough donut loaded with lemon<br />
thyme curd. We all still wax rhapsodic about it – the warm, crispy dough and the<br />
fantastic filling. We noshed in silence until every molecule was gone, greedily<br />
licking up any errant dollops of tangy, sweet lemon curd. It was primal, sensual,<br />
and so decadent, someone chimed in about feeling like they needed a cigarette<br />
afterward. It was that good.<br />
After the food truck disappeared, we noticed a sign had gone up on Central, in the<br />
former Hula’s Modern Tiki location. We cheered. We texted updates, until finally<br />
we saw they were open. And after a handful of meals, I’m here to tell you it is<br />
every bit as wonderful as we had hoped.<br />
Persepshen added warm, earthy touches to their space. Four wooden booths line<br />
the interior, and a giant communal table with long benches holds center court. A<br />
massive woodfired oven has been added, with chairs facing the chef, in a perfect<br />
spot, albeit a toasty one in the summer, I’d imagine, to watch the action. In the<br />
back you’ll find a charming bar, and you’ll pass a window that peeks into a curing<br />
room, loaded with meats and an entire leg of prosciutto, about 11 months away<br />
from being ready to devour. We were told that rib eyes will dry age for 120 days<br />
in the back. As I write this, Persepshen has only been open for about 10 days, so<br />
we’ve set the countdown to not miss them.<br />
The focus here is on a farm to table experience. The purveyors are mostly organic,<br />
with a focus on locally sourced everything. While charming and admirable, I was<br />
glad I travel with my own ice tea sweeteners. Given that stevia or an alternative<br />
isn’t available, expect to be offered honey to sweeten your jasmine green tea ($4).<br />
Fans of cocktails will enjoy the creative libations. We were particularly partial to<br />
the Filthytini ($9), a martini that comes with muddled green olives, bleu cheese,<br />
pickle juice, and a spoon. As we were told by our adorable server, the intention is<br />
to taste the drink with all the flavors. We did, and it was pretty special. This is a<br />
first for me – a martini with a spoon.<br />
Speaking of spoons, we loved their silverware: adorable vintage silver service<br />
is their weapon of choice. Instead of being stuffy, it adds to the charming vibe.<br />
Drinks come served in canning jars, in keeping with the farm-ish flair.<br />
This is the kind of place where appetizers shine, and their menu is set up for<br />
sharing – broken up into Snacks, Small Plates, Big Plates, and Entrees. You could<br />
share an entree, if you like, but I prefer to travel the other options, since it’s more<br />
interesting to me. We adored the Chorizo Stuffed Dates ($9). Three golf ball sized<br />
creations come atop house-made harissa. The chorizo packs a spicy punch, the<br />
sweetness of the dates rounds it out, and the harissa is perfect for swiping onto<br />
the dates for extra punch. Given the size, each treat is several bites’ worth. Share if<br />
you like, but you’ll want to keep one for yourself.<br />
The Wood-Roasted Sunchokes ($12) are an inventive treat. Also known as<br />
Jerusalem artichokes, these nuggets are smoky, slightly crunchy on the outside,<br />
and pillowy on the inside. They disappeared with haste. It’s the perfect combo of<br />
salty, smoky, and savory. We adored the Wood-Roasted Oyster Mushrooms ($12),<br />
served with slivers of house-made bacon, sweet pieces of black garlic, and brandy<br />
demi-cream. We politely pretended to like them. We actually loved them. The<br />
mushrooms take advantage of their new woodfired oven, and like us, you’ll want to<br />
drag each perfectly cooked morsel through the creamy sauce. I’m almost swooning<br />
just thinking about it.<br />
And as for Big Shared Plates, do not miss their Charcuterie Plate ($24). A giant slab<br />
of slate is delivered, loaded with five kinds of meat, and two wafer-thin lavash<br />
crackers are artfully perched on top. Make no mistake, these are enormous pieces<br />
of culinary art, nearly two feet long. The meat is so succulent and all made in house.<br />
We loved the headcheese. It sounds scary, I know, but it was creamy and melts in<br />
your mouth. We adored the salumi – kicky salami-like meat disks.<br />
Their mortadella is like smoky prosciutto; it reminded me of the bacon my<br />
grandmother used to make, sliced so thin the fat melts in your mouth. A robust<br />
grainy mustard serves to cut some of the fat (I’d like to buy a jar of this, please),<br />
and an impressive blueberry ginger jam adds interest as well. Each Charcuterie<br />
plate comes with three pickled veggies, and I was very happy to see their famous<br />
curried pickled cauliflower, so kicky and hot and a perfect balance to the rest of<br />
the plate. We also loved the pickles – cold, crisp, and tasting ever so slightly of dill<br />
and coriander seed. Our charming server advised us that this dish will constantly<br />
change, based on seasonal availability.<br />
What I hope never changes is their Burger ($16), loaded with Danish bleu cheese,<br />
strawberry jam, and an elegantly prepared patty. I was thrilled that the toasted<br />
brioche bun was able to hold firm and not disintegrate into sadness. We were<br />
equally impressed with their Wood-Roasted Shrimp ($22). Perfectly cooked, slightly<br />
sweet shrimp, made smoky from having been roasted, arrive on stellar smashed<br />
pinto beans. The smoky tortillas served alongside are delicious enough to give the<br />
former Rolands a run for their money. I’d expect these tortillas to appear as favorites<br />
around town any day now.<br />
I’ll admit a tiny pang of sadness when we discovered the orgasmic lemon thyme<br />
curd sourdough donuts were not on the menu yet. They’ll show up as soon as<br />
Sunday brunch makes an appearance, in a few weeks. We drowned our dessert<br />
sorrows in the Blondie ($9), a rectangular brownie topped with a stripe of prickly<br />
pear praline and candied pancetta. It was shockingly fabulous. It sounds tricky – so<br />
many flavors on one dessert can be a challenge. Here, it is a victory, the sweetsavory-salty<br />
ending to a fabulous locally sourced meal.<br />
We waited for a year for Persepshen to become a brick and mortar reality. And in<br />
only 10 days, I’ve been there so many times that nearly everyone in the restaurant<br />
recognizes me and says hello. They know I’ll swing by the curing room and wave to<br />
Stanley (that’s the name I’ve given to the leg of prosciutto). I waited for a year to eat<br />
at Persepshen. I’ll wait another 11 months for Stanley.<br />
Persepshen<br />
4700 N. Central Ave., Phoenix<br />
Wednesday to Sunday 5 p.m. to 10 p.m.<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE<br />
21
Changing<br />
Winds
Stylist, Photographer,<br />
Creative Director: Rachel Callahan<br />
Wardrobe: Vamp Rodeo Vintage<br />
Models: Hades, Ariel Graves-Wake
One of many Planning meetings: from left: Nuvia Enriquez, Ayo Sinplaneta, Martin Moreno,<br />
Reggie Casillas, Sam Gomez, Gloria Martinez, Diana Calderon, Edgar Fernandez<br />
ALL OF US TOGETHER<br />
Art, Water, Community, and Culture<br />
By Morgan Moore<br />
30 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
Medio Completo artist: Gloria, Nuvia<br />
Huhugam Heritage Center’s: Monica King<br />
Like water in the desert, art has the<br />
powerful ability to bring people together.<br />
In contemporary Phoenix, all too often,<br />
community-based art is reduced to<br />
branding and marketing efforts, and authenticity<br />
can quickly be lost. This city does, however,<br />
continue to bring people together beyond property<br />
and product. One recent powerful example of this<br />
is Vesich eth ve:m, a creative team that arose from<br />
the Water Public Art Challenge.<br />
On May 30, 2018, the Arizona Community Foundation<br />
launched the Challenge – its third philanthropic<br />
competition “aimed at creating the Arizona of<br />
tomorrow.” Funds were distributed to collaborative<br />
projects that delved into the “Hohokam” legacy,<br />
canal system, and history of water use in the Valley.<br />
The majority of winning teams will be exhibiting<br />
their work on <strong>Nov</strong>ember 16 at Scottsdale’s Canal<br />
Convergence, the Mesa Arts Center, and the Rio<br />
Salado Audubon Center (with the exception of<br />
Pueblo Grande Museum’s exhibition, which was<br />
held on October 20).<br />
The competition called for “collaborative temporary<br />
public art projects that build connectivity between<br />
cultures through creative expression.” Audubon<br />
Arizona’s executive director, Sonia Perillo, saw it as<br />
an opportunity to link water and community with the<br />
organization’s mission to protect birds and habitats.<br />
Birds, after all, need water.<br />
Audubon Arizona is one of many nonprofits in<br />
South Phoenix looking for ways to connect with<br />
its community. Public meetings on the South<br />
Central light rail extension brought together many<br />
stakeholders, including Perillo and Sam Gomez of the<br />
Sagrado Galleria (located on south Central Ave.), and<br />
they began to discuss the possibility of collaboration.<br />
Meanwhile, a separate group was coalescing around<br />
Gomez. Diana Calderon, Gloria Martinez-Granados,<br />
Reggie Casillas, Nuvia Enriquez, and Ayo Sinplaneta<br />
were all looking to combine their individual artistic<br />
practices to form a collaborative. Soon enough,<br />
Edgar Fernandez and Martin Moreno joined the<br />
conversation, along with Gomez. Together they<br />
formed the artist group Medio Completo. Gomez<br />
then bridged Medio Completo with Audubon Arizona<br />
through the idea of the water competition.<br />
Perillo was simultaneously reaching out to members<br />
of the Gila River Indian Community, which is<br />
composed of two tribes – the Akimel O’odham<br />
and the Pee Posh. In the past, tribal members had<br />
frequented the Rio Salado Audubon Center to collect<br />
materials for basket weaving.<br />
The Huhugam Heritage Center was established to<br />
ensure that the Gila River tribes continue to flourish<br />
for generations. The center’s education curator,<br />
Monica King, says, “We want it for our community,<br />
but we also want to share with the public.”<br />
King connected with Perillo and signed on to the<br />
competition, inviting Heritage Center staff and artists<br />
from the community, including Joyce Hughes, Tim<br />
Terry Jr., and Aaron Sabori to contribute their vision<br />
and direction to the project.<br />
Together Audubon Arizona, the Huhugam Heritage<br />
Center, and Medio Completo formed a team called<br />
Vesich eth ve:m, which translates to “all of us<br />
together.” Team members got together for the first<br />
time at the Rio Salado Audubon Center over a year<br />
ago to begin the application process, and since<br />
then have forged a path to share the results of their<br />
collaboration on <strong>Nov</strong>ember 16.<br />
While all are interdisciplinary artists, Calderon and<br />
Martinez-Granados both currently work primarily
Medio Completo artist: Diana Calderon<br />
Medio Completo artist: Sam Gomez<br />
through printmaking, Fernandez through painting and<br />
murals, and Casillas and Moreno through murals and<br />
sculptures. Enriquez and Sinplaneta are well known<br />
for their creation of La Phoenikera, an online bilingual<br />
publication covering Phoenix’s countercultures; they<br />
also bring experience with performance and film.<br />
Besides curating shows at the Sagrado, Gomez also<br />
works in photography.<br />
The Medio Completo artists have approached the<br />
project from varying perspectives, but ultimately<br />
contrast with the Gila River and Heritage Center<br />
members in that they connect with the project<br />
through immigration – a common motif in the<br />
group – along with exploration of their ancestral<br />
roots. Many of the artists are immigrants or children<br />
of immigrants, and much of their professional<br />
work draws from their Latinx experiences. But in<br />
connecting with the Huhugam Heritage Center and<br />
members of the Gila River Indian Community, they<br />
learned not only about the living history of Phoenix’s<br />
tribal cultures, but also how easy it is to relate.<br />
“It doesn’t feel that unfamiliar,” Calderon shares,<br />
“even though it’s not specific to my culture.” She<br />
reflects on her own family’s indigenous roots in the<br />
Copper Canyon in Chihuahua, Mexico. The sentiment<br />
is echoed by many Medio Completo artists, who find<br />
commonalities between their heritages and those of<br />
the O’odham.<br />
The Medio Completo artists are familiar with<br />
community-based work – from Casillas and Moreno<br />
collaborating with others to make murals, to Calderon<br />
leading bookmaking workshops, and Enriquez and<br />
Sinplaneta cultivating the written form with La<br />
Phoenikera. Developing the work behind We Are<br />
Still Here was a new experience in that the artists<br />
effectively acted as students, learning how to<br />
accurately portray art expressing a historical and<br />
contemporary community.<br />
We Are Still Here is an immersive art experience that<br />
presents a chronology of water history and features<br />
the importance of rivers for the sustenance of the<br />
Huhugam people. Through soundscapes, sculptures,<br />
augmented-reality murals, film projections,<br />
bookmaking, and performance, stories of Huhugam<br />
history are woven together with the community’s<br />
continued connection to the river. The artists aim to<br />
celebrate those who set the foundation for life in<br />
Phoenix and the surrounding communities.<br />
Research took Vesich eth ve:m on trips to pick cholla<br />
buds, harvest cattails, attend storytelling sessions,<br />
and tour Pueblo Grande. The members also attended<br />
the dedication of the Gila River Indian Community’s<br />
MAR 5 (Managed Aquifer Recharge) Interpretive Trail,<br />
which presents a reminder of how water still does<br />
flow through the desert. Research trips were not led<br />
by disconnected historians but by living descendants<br />
of the Native Americans who built the extensive<br />
canal structure around the Salt and Gila Rivers.<br />
“Each artist has had the opportunity to get feedback<br />
from the Huhugam Center, from the artists there,<br />
and from Monica and her staff,” Moreno explains.<br />
For example, Calderon consulted with artists on<br />
32 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
Medio Completo artists: Edgar Fernandez and Martin Moreno<br />
Medio Completo artists<br />
designs for her printmaking activity and with Hughes for<br />
translation of a poem to O’odham.<br />
Sinplaneta shares that he connected to the project by<br />
“writing something that was approved, in a way, by<br />
the culture. I’m really kind of a tourist, and it could<br />
even be perceived as appropriation.” Learning about<br />
and listening to storytelling from community members<br />
enabled the Medio Completo artists to interpret<br />
their roles in the project. “We’re gathering stories<br />
that we’ve heard, and all this knowledge that we’ve<br />
been exposed to, and giving interpretation through<br />
our artistic sense,” Sinplaneta says. Ultimately, Medio<br />
Completo aims to bring the project a contemporary lens<br />
that has been lacking in conversations about Arizona<br />
and its tribal communities.<br />
King shares an explanation by the Gila River Indian<br />
Community’s tribal historic preservation officer, Barnaby<br />
Lewis: “‘Huhugam’ is not the same as the archaeological<br />
term ‘Hohokam,’ which is limited by time periods.<br />
The archaeological term does not acknowledge our<br />
ancient ancestors nor living O’odham, who will become<br />
ancestors today and tomorrow. I am O’odham today, I<br />
will be Huhugam one day when I perish.”<br />
Medio Completo will be exploring these distinctions<br />
while weaving together each component with water,<br />
which serves as the crucial connection among the<br />
ecological, economic, and cultural fabrics of the desert.<br />
Water as a resource and economic structure through<br />
the historic canal system will be ever-present in the<br />
exhibition, as it is in our modern life.<br />
Vesich eth ve:m will also promote the importance of<br />
water in their project beyond its extrinsic value, delving<br />
into its cultural and spiritual side. From the significance<br />
of a cottontail rabbit’s dependence on water, to monsoon<br />
storms and water rights interpreted through projections<br />
and performances – the role of water flows through the<br />
entire project.<br />
“Hopefully, whatever happens with this event, we can<br />
continue and do more projects like this, and continue the<br />
narrative,” Gomez says. “Preservation, ownership, and<br />
being able to control our narrative” are key components<br />
of We Are Still Here, as they relate to the Huhugam, the<br />
O’odham, and the artist collective’s individual heritages,<br />
as well. The artists agreed they had learned a lot from<br />
this process, and are inspired to spread the knowledge<br />
gained from the Huhugam Heritage Center and Gila<br />
River Indian Community, so that future generations don’t<br />
have to learn these lessons from scratch.<br />
King echoes the sentiment: “We’re not talking about<br />
a people who lived and disappeared. No, we still live<br />
on through our traditions, our cultural and oral history,<br />
our practices, our songs and stories – and we share<br />
those. That is something we wanted to do with this<br />
group – to help them understand the difference.” King<br />
concludes, “So again – we are still here. Our tribe lives<br />
on, and we continue.”<br />
We Are Still Here<br />
An Immersive Art Experience Celebrating the Huhugam Water<br />
Legacy<br />
Saturday, <strong>Nov</strong>ember 16, 6:30 – 8:00 p.m.<br />
Nina Mason Pulliam Rio Salado Audubon Center<br />
riosaladoaudubon.org<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> 33<br />
MAGAZINE
Grace Rolland<br />
34 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE<br />
By Tom Reardon<br />
Photo: Taylor Noel Photography
<strong>JAVA</strong>: Tell me a little bit about you. Did you<br />
grow up here in the Phoenix area?<br />
Rolland: I did. I grew up in Mesa, and I live like five<br />
minutes away from my childhood home.<br />
Oh wow. So, you’ve gone far…<br />
(Laughs.) Oh yeah. I can walk to my parents’ house,<br />
that’s the problem. My mom grew up here, and my<br />
parents still live in the same house that I grew up in. I<br />
still take my dogs for a walk on the canal that I would<br />
run on growing up. So, it’s nice still being connected<br />
after all this time, you know.<br />
I do. I’m a native as well, although central<br />
Phoenix. I can’t see leaving. It’s so easy to get<br />
everywhere.<br />
Well, a few years ago, I was traveling into downtown<br />
Phoenix to do a lot of activities. It’s much harder<br />
(living in the east Valley). I just don’t drive as much<br />
as I used to. And so, I’m trying to absorb and extend<br />
my time working in the studio and being at home. As<br />
much as I love being stable where I am at, it’s always<br />
just a game to figure out how to feel connected and<br />
actively participate in downtown Phoenix. I love that<br />
place, but it’s a little far.<br />
Photo: Julius Schlosburg<br />
From time to time, people come into your life that just shine. Sometimes you even expect it because<br />
of their talent and ability to create beautiful art, but when their star shines about as bright as<br />
any can, it’s still overwhelming. You brace yourself for the impact, yet the wind can still get<br />
knocked right out of you.<br />
Singer and multi-instrumentalist Grace Rolland is one such person. Under the moniker Rising Sun<br />
Daughter, she has released an extraordinary debut EP, I See Jane. The 30-year-old Mesa native has taken the<br />
last two years to craft the five songs that make up what is essentially her first solo record. While you may<br />
know her from Run Boy Run – an Americana band that achieved a fair amount of success with support from<br />
Garrison Keillor and his longtime syndicated radio show, A Prairie Home Companion – Rollvand’s work with<br />
Rising Sun Daughter deserves equal celebration.<br />
By day, Rolland works at the Musical Instrument Museum in Scottsdale, before returning home to hang out<br />
with her dogs, Patty and Porter, and spend time working on her craft. She seems to be compelled to pick up new<br />
instruments, especially ones involving strings, so it’s anyone’s guess what sounds will show up on the next Rising<br />
Sun Daughter record. We caught up with Rolland during a break from work on a beautiful October day.<br />
The music scene is better than ever in town<br />
right now. Maybe that’s because our population<br />
has exploded, or maybe people just care more.<br />
It’s not like I need to go somewhere else to get<br />
my music out, as if there aren’t enough people in<br />
Arizona. That’s kind of a daydream notion, that<br />
you have to live in LA, or that only people in those<br />
historically commercial markets will listen to your<br />
music. There are literally millions of people here, and<br />
everyone deserves good music, so I can still live and<br />
make music here, which is fun.<br />
So, tell me a bit about working at the Musical<br />
Instrument Museum. It’s such a great venue for<br />
concerts.<br />
I’m really thankful to have that job. For one thing,<br />
the financial stability is essential to me as an artist,<br />
and I feel so much closer to quality musicians. I<br />
get to watch those people perform, I help support<br />
their shows, and I’m learning audio engineering.<br />
It’s a place that I feel, even if I’m not working<br />
in a performance capacity, it’s a nice peaceful<br />
environment, and, in my opinion, it’s the best concert<br />
hall in the country.<br />
It really does sound amazing in there.<br />
<strong>JAVA</strong> 35<br />
MAGAZINE
The theater becomes an instrument, like all the<br />
other gear you’re working with. So, if somebody is<br />
just bringing a guitar and singing, I tell them to try it<br />
without any extra gear, because being able to sing in<br />
a room like that is a gift. It’s just so rare.<br />
Were you always a music fan?<br />
Yeah, I think so. My parents are musicians. Growing<br />
up, I listened to the Beatles while doing household<br />
chores. I loved music. My strongest self-identity<br />
memories have to do with me singing, playing music,<br />
or feeling stage fright. I was very shy as a kid, like<br />
horribly. My stage fright was so intense, I would just<br />
run off stage.<br />
What was the first instrument that you thought<br />
to yourself, “I have to play that”?<br />
That was the cello. They started me on the violin, and<br />
I must’ve been like four. I apparently wasn’t very nice<br />
in the group lesson, so I got kicked out. Then I took<br />
piano lessons, and that was incredibly challenging.<br />
I’m coming back to the piano now. When I was in<br />
fourth grade, my mom played the cello, so I started to<br />
play around with it when I was nine, and it just felt<br />
so comfortable.<br />
36 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE<br />
That was my gateway. It’s such a strong instrument.<br />
Once you learn one instrument, you kind of absorb<br />
information about all the others. I had the opportunity to<br />
put my hands on a lot of different instruments because<br />
of my parents. So it was like, “Hey, can I borrow this<br />
tenor guitar?” and exploring without having to buy<br />
everything myself, which was very helpful.<br />
That’s very lucky. Do you still get stage fright?<br />
Not really. I have my way around it. But the way I felt<br />
it as a kid, (it was) the “I want to hide in a box, don’t<br />
look at me, don’t put any attention on me,” kind of<br />
feeling. At some point when I was coming out of a<br />
cello lesson, and I was too shy to even play for my<br />
teacher, my dad told me that to be so consumed by<br />
the fear of what others think and to not just play for<br />
music’s sake is a selfish thing.<br />
When I was in college, I studied theater and did a<br />
lot of improv and performance stuff and got more<br />
comfortable as a creative person. Now when I’m<br />
performing, it’s a challenge and an opportunity for me<br />
to be vulnerable on stage.<br />
How has it been for you to go from being part of<br />
a group (Run Boy Run) to being on your own?<br />
It’s hard. I’ve learned to not rely on other people<br />
to figure out what to do. As a female, you have to<br />
learn to not expect a man or someone in a position<br />
of power to say, “Oh, here’s an opportunity, here’s<br />
what you’re going to do.” Over the past few years,<br />
I’ve accepted my own power and embraced that my<br />
career is not necessarily going to look like how I<br />
fantasized it, with the record deal, a manager, and all<br />
that fuzzy stuff.<br />
I’m sort of speaking on a music business level.<br />
After I made the record, I didn’t know exactly what I<br />
wanted to get out of it, as a musician and performer,<br />
professionally and personally. I really wanted to<br />
understand my goals before releasing the music.<br />
When was the record finished?<br />
February 2017.<br />
You put it in a box for a while.<br />
Pretty much, yeah. It was in my computer for a long<br />
time. That spring (2017) I started really asking the<br />
questions of what I wanted from my music career.<br />
Was I just going to try and replicate my experience<br />
with Run Boy Run? I didn’t necessarily want that.<br />
I wondered if I should try to promote the crap out<br />
of the record and become a social media person. I<br />
couldn’t wrap my head around that either. I knew<br />
I wanted to put a lot of work into it, make a video,<br />
build a website, and that took some time.<br />
You mentioned being a female in the music<br />
business. Do you feel like the landscape is<br />
changing and more women are taking charge of<br />
their careers?<br />
I can’t help but feel it. I don’t consciously approach<br />
my music as a woman. But at the same time, when<br />
I’m composing, I recognize my own narrative in what<br />
I write.<br />
You know, you just accept your plate – by that I<br />
mean, I accept myself. I accept my strengths. I am<br />
cognizant that, in my self-perception, I am a strong,<br />
powerful, tall woman. I like that strength when I’m<br />
performing, and I like recognizing that people in<br />
an audience may not see that all the time. Festival<br />
lineups are not filled with woman-centered bands.<br />
But hopefully that is changing.<br />
Rising Sun Daughter performs on <strong>Nov</strong>ember 8 at<br />
Scottsdale’s Canal Convergence. For set times,<br />
please visit canalconvergence.com.<br />
For more information about Rising Sun Daughter, please visit<br />
RisingSunDaughter.com
GIRL ON FARMER<br />
BY CELIA BERESFORD<br />
I was really looking forward to seeing the show at<br />
Comerica. Not only was I meeting my monthly antiaging<br />
quota, it was also a band I love. One of the<br />
things about getting older is that so many things that<br />
happen are just so lame, especially because they are<br />
so stereotypical and predictable. I’m not even talking<br />
about the terrifying things that start happening to<br />
your face. I mean the middle-agey behaviors that<br />
creep up on you. You go to bed earlier, you can’t<br />
sleep, the idea of heavy drinking two nights in a<br />
row is laughable, and weekend/weeknight – who<br />
cares? Organizing my wildflower seed collection is<br />
preferable to going to the bar, and knowing that I<br />
have all of the laundry done is woefully satisfying. In<br />
response, I decided that, in addition to my daily olive<br />
oil face scrub to combat wrinkles (a battle lost years<br />
ago, if I’m honest), I also need to implement an antiaging<br />
behavior plan.<br />
Part of this plan is going to see a show at least<br />
once a month. In the past, I could easily squeeze in<br />
a few good bands each month. Now, I excitedly put<br />
something on the calendar, but when it comes to<br />
the night of the actual event, I’m like, “Meh, I’ve got<br />
seeds to sort.” This kind of nonsense is unacceptable<br />
in Operation Youthiness: It’s Showtime. I’m doing<br />
OK at meeting the monthly quota, but the necessary<br />
motivation to get to some shows is easier than<br />
others. And this was one of them. I had been waiting<br />
for The National to come back to town since they had<br />
played at the Tempe Marquee years ago. I had floor<br />
tickets and was ready for some young fun.<br />
Young fun typically involves some drinking. But<br />
since when you’re over 35 you have to pee every<br />
10 to 12 minutes, it was important that I put some<br />
restrictions on my liquid intake. This is easy to do at<br />
most venues, where a beer costs more than the Lyft<br />
ride to get there. While in line for my beer, I had to<br />
dig out my “wallet.” Wallet is a generous term for<br />
the cloth sack that I pack to the brim with nonsense<br />
like used subway passes, outdated library cards, hard<br />
half pieces of gum, lucky beads, innumerable scraps<br />
of paper where I’ve collected brilliant, yet illegible,<br />
stoned thoughts, ibuprofen tablets that look like rats<br />
have chewed them, and roughly 66 cents in pennies.<br />
The zipper is broken and it is very dirty. There were<br />
cute embroidered farm animals on the front, but now<br />
they just look like colored blobs.<br />
38 <strong>JAVA</strong><br />
MAGAZINE
I threw myself over the wallet and awkwardly<br />
grasped for the papers and trinkets that were<br />
scattered over the floor and began hastily stuffing<br />
all of it into my purse thing. Finally I got my beer<br />
and scurried away to hide among the crowd.<br />
Recently, while out for some drinks with a good friend, she saw the wallet, shook<br />
her head and said, “God, I hope you don’t let anybody you work with see that<br />
thing.” I told her young people like me don’t use fancy wallets, and I wouldn’t be<br />
shamed into doing another middle-age thing by getting one.<br />
As I pulled out the wallet to pay for my beer, a long line waiting behind me, it<br />
kind of flung out of my hand and onto the floor. It looked like a piñata had broken<br />
open, but instead of candy it was a bunch of bullshit. “Uhm, you dropped your<br />
uhm.” The girl behind me wasn’t really sure what it was, but when I saw my<br />
wallet on the floor for everyone to see, it felt like I had dropped a pair of dirty<br />
underwear. “Oh my god, oh no,” I blushed. “I’m, I’m so sorry. Don’t look at that!<br />
What is that thing?” I asked, incredulous, as if I hadn’t seen it before. “I’m a<br />
grown adult woman. I have a job, I swear.” I threw myself over the wallet and<br />
awkwardly grasped for the papers and trinkets that were scattered over the floor<br />
and began hastily stuffing all of it into my purse thing. Finally I got my beer and<br />
scurried away to hide among the crowd.<br />
I got to the floor and met my friend just in time for the show to start. About 30<br />
minutes in, as the crowd swayed and stared, listening intently to a quieter song,<br />
this meatball with a backwards baseball cap started yapping to his group of friends.<br />
Most responded quickly with some head nodding, as if they understood that they<br />
were standing among a crowd who was trying to listen to music. The meatball didn’t<br />
get it and loudly, repeatedly engaged his friends in stupid stories, likely involving a<br />
keg stand. I loudly shushed in his direction. I even smiled. He kept going. “Let’s all<br />
just shushhhhh,” I loudly suggested, determined not to let him ruin the song. He<br />
kept at it, louder, until finally on behalf of everyone, I had to remind him that we<br />
did not pay money to hear him blabber to his friends. He reminded me I was in<br />
a big crowd and people talk. I then reminded him there was A WHOLE OUTSIDE<br />
WORLD to go to if he wanted to talk. This went on until finally, on my young night<br />
out, I did the most very middle-aged thing I could do: I told on him. I went to the<br />
security guard, pointed him out, and said he won’t stop talking.<br />
It worked, and the kid did eventually shut up. But the experience undermined the<br />
spirit of Operation Youthiness. It had fouled my mood, and instead of going out<br />
after the show for more drinks, as my younger self would have done, I headed<br />
back home.<br />
It was early though, so the night was not lost. I smiled, remembering the new<br />
packets of seeds I had gotten in the mail that morning.
NIGHT<br />
GALLERY<br />
Photos By<br />
Robert Sentinery<br />
1<br />
2<br />
3 4<br />
5<br />
6<br />
7<br />
8 9<br />
10 11<br />
1. Clare steals the show at Chaos Theory<br />
2. Bro & Sis, Sam and Cristiana<br />
3. Phoenix Fashion Week with Oscar and Cynthia<br />
4. Izzy Molloy’s opening at FOUND:RE<br />
5. Victor and Emily at Stardust Pinbar<br />
6. Rielle is a social butterfly at Phoenix Fashion Week<br />
7. Super stylists Ashley Page and Anthony Leroux<br />
8. Lovely lady at the Town Scottsdale grand opening<br />
9. Brian Hill, the man behind Phoenix Fashion Week<br />
10. Track Club opening with Chuckie Duff and Bri<br />
11. Irene and her fab friends at Stardust<br />
.................................................<br />
.................................................
12 13 14 15 16<br />
17 18 <strong>19</strong> 20 21<br />
22 23 24 25 26<br />
27 28 29<br />
12. Rowan’s “Geometry of Motion” opening at Step Gallery<br />
13. Town Scottsdale grand opening with this duo<br />
14. Mello Jello with her wares at the Bubble Room<br />
15. Tanqueray or Kim Crawford?<br />
16. Ann shows her work at Town Scottsdale<br />
17. Ok, now smile for the camera<br />
18. DJ Kim E Fresh gets support from this lovely violinist<br />
<strong>19</strong>. Snapped these guys at the Town Scottsdale fete<br />
20. Va va voom! Lavish burlesque night at Bubble Room<br />
21. Adam from Town has family in town<br />
22. Pretty pair at Town Scottsdale<br />
23. The Track Club menu looks like an LPs<br />
24. Leopard print lady and her pretty pal<br />
25. Flamenco artist Carlos caught in confetti<br />
26. The main man behind Town Scottsdale and Denver<br />
27. Bubble Room at Wasted Grain<br />
28. Group shot! Lavish at the Bubble Room<br />
29. Destyn and Effie at Lavish
Register<br />
now for<br />
Spring<br />
10 Colleges Valleywide<br />
Degree and Certificate Programs<br />
University Transfer<br />
Affordable Tuition<br />
enroll-maricopa.com<br />
The Maricopa County Community College District (MCCCD) is an EEO/AA institution and an equal opportunity employer of protected veterans and individuals with disabilities. All qualified applicants will receive<br />
consideration for employment without regard to race, color, religion, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity, age, or national origin. A lack of English language skills will not be a barrier to admission and<br />
participation in the career and technical education programs of the District.<br />
The Maricopa County Community College District does not discriminate on the basis of race, color, national origin, sex, disability or age in its programs or activities. For Title IX/504 concerns, call the following<br />
number to reach the appointed coordinator: (480) 731-8499. For additional information, as well as a listing of all coordinators within the Maricopa College system, visit www.maricopa.edu/non-discrimination.
30 31<br />
32 33 34<br />
35 36<br />
37 38<br />
39<br />
40 41<br />
42 43 44<br />
45 46<br />
47<br />
30. Pyra Sutra’s stellar burlesque show, Lavish<br />
31. Another fun duo at Town Scottdale<br />
32. Friends & family opening of Track Club<br />
33. Pretty faces in the crowd<br />
34. Fairy Bones in the house at Track Club<br />
35. All together now with Lisa from Practical Art<br />
36. DJs Pickster at Aw.dre at Track Club<br />
37. Track Club trio<br />
38. Tube sock and Dolphin shorts at Track Club<br />
39. High stylin’ at Phoenix Fashion Week<br />
40. Peekaboo, Lydia, we see you<br />
41. Getting funky with Rachel from Bunky<br />
42. Cool vendors at Phoenix Fashion Week marketplace<br />
43. Michael gets his groove on at Track Club<br />
44. Pretty runway walker art Fashion Week<br />
45. Jessie and pal at Track Club<br />
46. Menswear on the runway at PFW<br />
47. Matchy belts and drinks at Track Club
48 49<br />
50 51 52<br />
53 54<br />
55 56<br />
57<br />
58 59<br />
60<br />
61<br />
62<br />
63<br />
64 65<br />
48. First pic of the night at Chaos Theory 20<br />
49. These guys showed up for Rowan’s show at Step Gallery<br />
50. Photog. Nader Abushhab and friend at Chaos Theory<br />
51. Pabst Blue Ribbon time at with Johnny and Brian<br />
52. Chaos Theory with Liesel, Mia and pal<br />
53. Brad Perry in the house a Phoenix Fashion Week<br />
54. Matt Dixon with his piece at Chaos Theory 20<br />
55. Chaos Theory with Jessie and her man<br />
56. Another epic Chaos Theory with Randy and Alicia<br />
57. Funkhouser and friend at Chaos Theory 20<br />
58. The triple threat<br />
59. Stylist extraordinaire Mitch Phillips<br />
60. Lexie and Jason at Chaos Theory<br />
61. Caught amongst the art at Legend City Studios<br />
62. Hangin’ with Samir, Chris and Drew<br />
63. Sam and her man at Legend City Studios<br />
64. Kim Moody’s 75th with Marshall Shore<br />
65. Always nice to bump into Bobby and Alissa
66 67 68<br />
69<br />
70<br />
71<br />
72 73<br />
74 75<br />
76 77 78<br />
79 80<br />
81 82<br />
83<br />
66. Pinball, drinks and winks at Stardust<br />
67. Model for Samantha Lyn Aasen’s “For Her Time” show<br />
68. Abbey, Brandon, Sarah, and Francisco<br />
69. Rockin’ the “Brains Beauty Booty” tee<br />
70. Photo op with Kandice and Rafael<br />
71. Brian Boner’s opening at Fiat Lux Gallery<br />
72. Irene’s Taproom Timothy Chapman and friend<br />
73. All together now at Stardust Pinbar<br />
74. Jennyfer and Brad at Fiat Lux<br />
75. Samantha Lyn Aasen’s “For Her Time” at Eye Lounge<br />
76. Snapped this posse at Brian Boner’s show<br />
77. Another Friday at the Lost Leaf<br />
78. Kellye and Raul at Fiat Lux gallery<br />
79. Ernesto and friends at Lost Leaf<br />
80. Time for a refill at Fiat Lux<br />
81. Fred Tieken’s opening at Royse Contemporary<br />
82. Grant and Jimmy at Eye Lounge<br />
83. End of the night at Stardust Pinbar
BidUP!<br />
Silent Auction Fundraiser<br />
Fri, <strong>Nov</strong> 15 (6-8 pm)<br />
Exhibition / Preview: <strong>Nov</strong> 12-15, 20<strong>19</strong><br />
FREE & OPEN to the PUBLIC!<br />
CORINNE GEERTSEN, Intermission,<br />
Digital photo collage, printed with<br />
archival ink on archival paper,<br />
13½ x 15½ inches<br />
• Live Music by The Dusty<br />
Ramblers Project Large Band<br />
• Premiere of 2020 Art<br />
Print Calendar<br />
• Cash Bar & Sweet Treats<br />
MARK MCDOWELL, Stilt Walker, Polymer Relief Print.<br />
From 2020 Print Calendar.<br />
1 East Main Street • Mesa, AZ 85201 • 480-644-6560 • MesaArtsCenter.com
Featuring CAMELBACK FLOWERSHOP founder,<br />
Teresa Wilson, in Jacques Marie Mage Bacall Optical,<br />
See more portraits #YOUINEWE<br />
FOUR YEARS IN A ROW!<br />
Thank EWE Phoenix for naming us BEST EYEWEAR<br />
in this yearʼs Phoenix New Times BEST OF PHOENIX.
squidsoup @smoca<br />
Murmuration<br />
<strong>Nov</strong>ember 20<strong>19</strong> – May 2020<br />
Squidsoup returns to SMoCA this <strong>Nov</strong>ember with Murmuration a new site-specific artwork that uses a<br />
networked data systems to connect hundreds of lights and audio sources, creating a responsive data swarm.<br />
During the daytime, Murmuration offers a harmonious auditory experience, but when<br />
the sun goes down, a dynamic audiovisual experience swirls around the Museum like<br />
its namesake—a term for a flock of starlings whirling in unison through the sky.<br />
Related Event: Artist Talk: Squidsoup: Thursday, <strong>Nov</strong>ember 7 I 7 p.m.<br />
Organized by the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art. Curated by Julie Ganas, Curator of Programming.<br />
Image: Squidsoup, Murmuration (rendering), 20<strong>19</strong>.<br />
SMoCA.org I 7374 East Second Street, Scottsdale, Arizona 85251 I 480-874-4666