No place like it

Lindsey Alexander makes a gallery of her home

Looking at art in a gallery can be intimidating, but viewing it in the home of a stranger can create a whole other level of discomfort. You can err on the side of the good guest and keep your distance from everything, including the artistsí intentions, even though the casual atmosphere makes you want to reach out all the more. Or you can get too comfortable, and risk that the houseís tighter confines might end your visit abruptly, with a crash.

But thereís no other way to see Hearth, a site-specific installation open this month, because the show uses a home as its lifeline.

On Sunday, September 7, at the opening reception, Lindsey Alexander, host of the show and a participating artist, worried that she might have overdone it with the ìDo not touchî signs around the art. But she figured they also point viewers toward work installed as part of the show. ìI didnít want to get into the physical space, but I did want to identify them,î she explained.

She wasnít too worried about the gathering crowd in general, however, having gotten used to accommodating similar groups. ìFor me, it was a step among others,î she said.

At the former home she shared with her husband, Steve Stout, in Bexley, and the home theyíve had in German Village for the past three years, Alexander has hosted 20 yearsí worth of annual holiday craft shows, and two productions of the site-specific theater group Women at Play (sheís also a member).

Her friend, Susan Graham, suggested the site-specific home show about a year ago after seeing something similar in an empty Manhattan apartment. Alexander brought together the group of 16 artists from referrals like Berry van Boekel, who she met through her daughter, and from friends like Graham, whose photographs and sculptures of sugar and egg yolk were included in a group show at the Whitney last year.

Each toured Alexanderís house to choose a space, then worked to provide something that would play well with the spaceís original intention, such as Pug Hellerís Animal Television surrounding the TV in the master bedroom, or D.G. Fulfordís painting ìTelephoneî in the office.

Some of the work wasnít created specifically for the show as much as it was re-envisioned for a new, homey place, but previously shown work is usually accompanied by something fresh. In the first floor bathroom, Helma Groot has taken over the shower, with a mobile of fish and aquatic vessels hanging above the tub, a relic of Grootís recent show at ROY G BIV, and pockets on the gauzy shower curtain filled with miniature recreations of the men Groot met during a recent speed dating experience.

ìOne guy was really into gambling,î she explained as she pulled a doll out of a pocket to expose the cash tumbling out of his back pocket, and the ace heís got palmed. Her ìfour minute datesî didnít sound like big fun, but she did find inspiration. She used Hearthís pending deadline to get friends together for a ìgirlís night out sweatshop partyî to help her stuff the dolls in time for the opening. ìEven one of the guys I met speed-dating helped,î she said.

Groot was also given space on the ceiling of the master bedroom, where sheís taken a large piece and separated it into four individual parts, reflecting her own, enjoyably morbid associations of the four seasons. Winter becomes an embracing couple next to a bed filled with common items that could double as devices to torture and maim. Yet her art, with its rounded edges and visual similarity to childrenís book illustrations, is inviting even when its content is dark and bitter. She appreciates the opportunity to show her pieces outside of a gallery, and to display how well they can fit into a home.

Groot shares the bathroom with Cheong-Ah Hwang, one of the artists who best and most fully appropriates a space in the home. Alexander explained that a spot on a window seat on the second floor had already been chosen for some of Hwangís Paper Windows series, shown a couple of years ago at North Oak Gallery, when the artist expressed interest in a wide medicine cabinet downstairs. Specifically for Hearth, she created a host of personal toiletry items (pill bottles, a shaving cream can, toothpaste, dental floss), all constructed from paper. Each piece is flawlessly realized and suggests a familiar brandómass-produced items that, like the windows, are given individuality by those who employ them.

For artist and Ohio Art League director Ellen Grevey, Alexander cleaned out a closet. Well, itís sort of a closet; itís too small to be anything else, but itís got its own small closet with a tiny door that brings to mind Alice in Wonderland, minus the bottle that commands ìDrink me.î

ìIt does have that Alice in Wonderland feeling,î Grevey agreed. ìYou feel extra big if itís a room and extra small if itís a closet.î

Recalling a childhood spent playing dress-up in the closets of her many female relativesóGreveyís main source of inspirationóshe adapted elements from her masterís thesis exhibition earlier this year for In the Closet. Incorporating found objects, furniture and video, the artist pays homage to the debt owed to the older and wiser by the young and naÔve through vintage lingerie weighted by seeds and grains, accompanied by a presentation through a miniature frame on the wall (the projection equipment is behind drywall) of her grandmotherís videotaped recollection of the interesting relationship her own mother had with foundation garments.

ìItís a really wonderful concept,î Grevey said of Hearth. ìI think [Alexander]ís brave to take it on. Itís so unusual to go to someoneís house, but everyoneís doing really well with it.î

The artist, whoís known Alexander for five years, expressed her enthusiasm over the particular venue as well. ìEven the stuff thatís not art is art.î

Itís true. The exhibition maps left on the front porch for visitors are crucial to the experience; without them, no one outside the houseís inhabitants could tell where the installation ends and the everyday home begins.

On the walls, works previously in place by Aminah Robinson and Hearth contributor Barbara Vogel fit in seamlessly. For the exhibit, Alexander had narrative pottery made and placed in the dining room, as if the table is set for a future coffee klatch of mothers feeling the pains of an empty nest; but sheíd already put her cracked pottery touch onto the living room table, and the kitchen backsplash, and in a large section of the backyard. An early conversation between Alexander and her husband about the house is recreated in metal text just behind the front fence. Alexander not only makes a comfortable home for other artistsí work, she shows how a home can be made into a work of art.

 

ìHearthî is open on Sundays and by appointment through October 5 at 556 S. Third St. Dial 227-0133 for details.



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