The latest group exhibit at Loud Cow — one of Rochester’s
most experimental art spaces, located in a barn in Spencerport — opened on
Saturday night. For this iteration of the biannual shows, Loud Cow’s founder
Aaron Delehanty turned over curatorial duties to
artist Amanda Chestnut, who gathered an international, diverse group of eight artists
who each tackle the concept of identity in their work. “Verified” includes
photo, video, and sculptural installations, and the opening reception included
three performances.
“The theme
of the show is verification: Who gets to claim identities, who gets to deny
identities? What happens to individuals when identity is taken away?” Chestnut
said in an interview with CITY.
Saturday’s
event saw community members gather to witness and participate in performances,
sustain discussions, eat tacos and drink beers, and roast marshmallows around a
bonfire. Brian Murphy’s looping video of wrestlers — an unending grappling
match between two men — was projected through a window in the barn’s loft, only
visible after dark. Megan Joy May turned a corner of the barn into a sanctified
space, and offered viewers the chance to participate in a ritual of connection
and letting go. Among the portraits by Juan Madrid is a photo of his friend’s
bare ass forming a vulnerable moon.
Aside from
the emotional weight of the work, some of the artists stepped out of other
comfort zones. “Anina Major is a ceramic artist, and
she brought me video,” Chestnut said. “Reb Ayşe, who is a printmaker, is
showing her first sculpture. This is an experimental space, and a difficult
conversation, and the artists have taken advantage of it and really put
themselves artistically and emotionally on the line for this show.
CITY: Where did the concept for this show come
from?
Amanda Chestnut: “The original idea
of being “verified” came from a conversation I had with a friend online. He had
a press pass to an early screening of “Black Panther.” And he couldn’t make it.
And I said, “As your black friend, I think I should get this ticket.” He said I
could have it, but I couldn’t make it to New York. He said something in jest
about being “Black Friend Verified,” which kind of sparked an idea in me,
because yes, he totally is, but usually the “I have black friends” statement is
a statement made from somebody who is absolutely not black friend verified. So
I think somewhere in that conversation I joked that I should make buttons to
give to people who are actually black friend verified. This idea had been kind
of kicking around for a while.
How did you come to choose the specific set of
voices included in this show?
I very deliberately wanted to include white voices, because
this isn’t just about black identity. I think in general and in the arts, when
we talk about identity we do a lot of highly localized conversations; we’ll
talk about Latino identity, we’ll talk about black identity, or we’ll talk
about gay white male identity, or woman identity. But it’s still pretty
cis-hetero. It was really important to me — and I think largely because I’m
mixed — to include all of these voices in this conversation, because our
identities don’t exist in a vacuum. I’m very used to having to navigate white
spaces as a woman who is note quite white enough, and black spaces as a woman
who is not quite black enough. And culturally we tend to speak about race very
much in dichotomy. It’s an “or” situation. And for the most part, many people
are “and,” but linguistically and culturally we don’t give them space to be “and.”
I really
wanted to include multiple voices in this, because that’s how this conversation
functions the best. So there are white artists, there are black artists, there
are Latino artists. There is a white-passing brown-identifying artist who is
coming to terms with her own identity as a person of color. For her this show
is in part about how she is recognizing herself as a person of color. That’s an
important voice to have in this conversation.
What are some aspects of the show that you feel
accomplish what your goals were?
A lot of the works individually deal with identity, but what
I’m most happy about, what I hoped to accomplish, is how they deal with
identity in conversation with each other. Because you see Anina’s
work, where she places this crown on her head, and looks directly at the viewer.
And it’s on the same plane in the gallery as Sarah Anthony’s work, which is
nine portraits of young men, many of which are also looking directly at the
viewer, but in a very different way emotionally. And each piece individually is
saying something very different, but when you look at the very solemn but
powerful look in Anina’s piece, then look at Sarah’s
piece at these men who are posed in sometimes sensuous, sometimes gentle or
exposed, insecure kinds of ways, and the majority of them are white. I think
the conversation that happens between those two works is the kind of thing I
was hoping to achieve for this show.
This article appears in May 29 – Jun 4, 2019.
