a new archive

I thought I would write a bit about my new archive, the Chicago Artists Archive. I have a show in September and October of 2010 at the Harold Washington Center of the Chicago Public Library. Artists who show at the library are included in an archive of over 9000 Chicagoland artists that is held and maintained in the Visual and Performing Arts Library.

October is Chicago Artists Month, and the theme is the City as Studio. Chicago has been having a year long dialog about the artist studio in all its forms. Since I have been studio-less and have been working with archives all year, I thought I should treat the library as my studio and use it as a place to make my work. I am reviewing the entire artist archive while I make work for the show. So far I have reviewed A-C and gotten through 2 of the twelve file drawers of archival material.

Part of me wonders at myself, driving into the city to sit in the library, alone, looking through drawers and drawers of artist materials mostly from 1940-2000. I mean really: I spent my fall, alone, in a cold studio going through each page of one architect's projects and papers from 1950-1990. Why not go out and meet real live artists? I am much more inclined to the former, and I have always struggled with that. I love that I can sit and look through materials during the day while my kids are at school. I get to mull over the rich lives of hundreds of local people. I am getting an education in Chicago art history. And if I don't do it now, I will never take the time to do it. Hooray for sabbaticals!

The archive covers artists well known and not so. Faculty from all the local universities and art schools are represented, as well as every variety of sculptor, painter, printmaker, community activist, artist-run gallery, and artist working out in the suburbs. I am, of course, particularly drawn to the latter. Artists who grew up in Chicago and worked elsewhere are included (like Judy Chicago) and artists who moved to Chicago and work here now are included as well. Some artists built themselves into the archive with exhaustive letters and documentation they sent to the librarian/curators. Other artists are included unbeknownst to them, via all kinds of coverage in the local press, from reviews to obituaries.

Am I looking for anything in particular? Yes and no. I am looking at the whole archive because I don't want to miss anyone. Ideas and history are everywhere. I am writing down fragments of artist statements and the names of artists whose work touches me. I am writing down recurring galleries and art critics who I want to trace through the archive and through time. And I am writing down adjacencies: when the juxtaposition of two artists is poignant and the only reason for their relationship is that their last names are similar or the same.

I grapple with a fear of failing at my own artistic endeavor: not working hard enough, or publicly enough, or honestly enough. When I sit down at the archive, at first I feel heavy with the burden of so many artists represented by a single piece of writing or photograph of their work. But then I keep reading and see signs of each artist working with clear intention and purpose. Why do we do it? Because we can, and we are driven to, and it helps keep us fulfilled. And why do librarians, archivists, and art lovers adopt our things and our narrative and attend to them? That is one question guiding the drawings I am making.

Are there lessons in the archive? One for sure: keep making beautiful printed ephemera and send it to people who are thoughtful savers. Otherwise archivists print out ugly website versions of your show announcements on archival paper and THAT is your legacy. Shiver.

The Gutnajers in Poland

I am inventorying the papers so that the appraiser can appraise them and they can move on to new homes. We are applying for a permit now and should hear in about two weeks! So work will begin, and all the papers and drawings will need to move on to new homes.

As part of that appraisal I am counting sheets of paper, which gave me a chance to finally count and gather the many sheets of paper that make up the documentation of Gutnayer's decades-long fight to recover art stolen from his family by the Nazis, and, in particular, an evil opportunistic Dutchman named Pieter Menten. Menten joined the SS in 1941 for what would appear to be the dual purpose of killing Jews and stealing their art.  You can read the brief (and incomplete, especially as it pertains to his art collection) Wikipedia entry on Menten here.

Photo: Berhard top left, and Abe bottom (?)
Map: Rough locations of their galleries on a current Google Map image
addresses from survivor accounts and Wikipedia

Bernhard and Abe Gutnajer were significant art and antique dealers in Warsaw. From what I can decipher from Wikipedia and the documentation in the house, Bernhard and Abe were both killed in 1942: Abel was murdered in his apartment on July 21, the day before a major 'deportation'. I will have to go back and confirm this date but I think Bernard was likely killed at the same time. They both had antique shops in the city, not far from each other. Abel exhibited and important Polish art at the time. One of the paintings stolen from him in 1942 recently came up for auction.

 

Gutnayer on the right, with his parents, brothers, and two unidentified children.

 

Gutnayer tells an amazing story in his affadavits regarding the restitution of some of his father's collection. He joined the Polish Resistance and, posing as an art dealer, went to Menten's home to review his collection. He described seeing portraits of his grandparents in Menten's home, as well as other pieces from his father's personal collection. He declined to purchase anything from Menten. Menten trip through the justice system is disheartening--he spent a short time in prison in 1949 and Holland would not extradite him to Poland to stand trial. From 1950 to 1976, Menten lived the life of a successful art collector and businessman. His trial was reopened in 1976 and he was convicted for only a portion of his real crimes.