WORD
ON THE STREET
by Holiday Dmitri
The Booster - Wicker Park
February 6, 2002
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WORD
ON THE STREET |
I've come to the conclusion that everyone these days is an artist -- or so it seems living as I do in Wicker Park. And frankly, this conclusion of mine makes me a little sad. Which isn't to say that being surrounded by a bunch of Creative Types is a disheartening thing. No, the trouble is that the word "artist" has lost its value to me. What bugs me is the liberal application of the tagline to any thrift-store outfitted, pseudo-intellectual urban hippie-cowboy -- my modern version of the antediluvian artist stereotype (think: black-fatigued, beret-wearing, chain-smoking, coffee-consuming, morose, existentialistic, crazy Frenchman). Now before I get ahead of myself, I want to say first of all that I think it's perfectly fine for people to call themselves artists who passionately apply their heart and soul (and even better, creativity and skill) to generate an "end result" of some novel sort. Why not? Secondly, I am not against artists as a breed. I know (and like) many who fit the creative bill -- photographers, painters, graphic designers, actors, musicians and DJs, moviemakers, and even your given hungry-for-work, friendly freelance writer (ahem). These people have qualities I find admirable: drive, passion, inspiration, ambition, and a readiness to prove to the world their merit. And actually, these people will be the focus of my upcoming articles for The Booster. So, then you ask, why this fuss? Well this fuss is not directed at all artists, but those who make a big fuss fussing about themselves, those who sit on the high bench of smugness and self-righteousness. It's the mix of left-minded mumble-jumble and self-professed "profundities" that irk me. It's a specific cabal of tenured radicals and social-critic wannabes swimming in a Narcissus's pool of all-things arty that get on my nerves. I'm talking about the segment of area activist-artist, who have nothing better to do then pout and protest to their new yuppified neighbors that they "were here first" (And to think, I had always thought it was the Polish immigrants and the German and Scandinavian settlers who were the first in Wicker Park...). The same ones who proceed to shout, "We're real, you're not" when MTV's "Real World" decided to set their base for the Chicago set in a loft space on North Avenue. These particular residents don't like change. They stand guard behind their bastion of otherworldly, outsiders-not-invited coolness. It's as if anything corporate automatically brings corruption (or at least being un-hip). The transformation of their neighborhood from the ghetto-fabulous artists haven it once was in the 1980s to the commercial (read: gentrified) success it is today, pisses the pants off of many of these types. Take, for instance the Starbucks on the North-Damen-Milwaukee corner, where Cafe Cafina, used to be. A local riff-raff (probably an artist-activist protester or one in league with their "cause" to impede commercial globalization), welcomes the Seattle coffee chain into the neighborhood by smashing its window. And back to the "Real World" house, where angry artist-activist protesters surrounded the building, harassed the stars and gloriously decried corporate media. All right. Come on. Get over it guys. Back in 1968, Lincoln Park was ground zero for the Democratic National Convention protests; now it's the breeding ground of khaki-wearers, home to the Trixies and quarters to one of the world's highest densities of Gap stores. Sure, in many ways it sucks, but it's inevitable. It's time to move on and find more inimitable causes to fight for or just move out. This past weekend, I went with a friend, a local art gallery owner, to the neighborhood's second annual Winter Around the Coyote festival. He, head down and mouth a frown, came out of the Flat Iron Building depressed at all the "bad art" he saw. Me, I was much more optimistic, and came to another realization. My favorite work exhibiting was from an artist named Adam Siegel. Siegel, I found from my gallery owner friend, is one of the most commercially successful artists in Chicago. I have always believed that talent pays off, and now firmly trust that gifted people (who want to be recognized) and quality products have their own way of becoming popular, successful, commercial and sometimes even corporate. There are those who believe art is supposed to only live in a creative vacuum. As if it were to come to actual subsistence in the mainstream, it would no longer be true art. I don't buy that. Me, I've come to another conclusion: There's nothing wrong with "selling out," with going commercial and feeling proud of your success. Just as long as, like Sinatra says, you do it your way. Oh and
for the record: I've never been a fan of "The Real World,"
hate the names Starbucks uses to categorize coffee cup sizes (Can someone
tell me, what that's all about?), and cringe at the cookie cutter condos
being built overnight in the neighborhood. They're god-awful eyesores,
and I think they should all be torn down and rebuilt. |
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