Upon entering Josef Strau’s newest show, “Iniquities Suspend,” at the Rowley Kennerk Gallery in Chicago, I thought to myself, “this show is about lamps.” Walking into the small, homelike space, I was accosted by a dying gaggle’s-worth of awkward lamp personalities. There was a cheap, thin IKEA-esque lamp with a bashfully sized turquoise shade. There was a lamp, the miniature version of the aforementioned standard silver lamp with a more conservative tan shade, sitting alone on a very small pedestal. In the corner, there was a boring white bent-rod lamp with an exposed bulb. Finally, there was an incarcerated lamp. This decorative gold tableside lamp, complete with beige pleated shade, sat imprisoned underneath a rod-iron and glass table that may have once been its stage. In this small and (when I went) uninhabited space, the lamps kept me company. They pitifully awaited my arrival, the tallest one even putting on its fanciest turquoise shade for the occasion. But, alas, holding court with this merry band of gentlelamps proved a fleeting excitement. Surely there was context, history, explanation, content? Yes? Well, of course. The lamps were not simply awaiting my arrival: they were working to illuminate the canvasses, decorated with paper and scribbles, feebly hanging on the walls.
One wall was covered in an end-to-end wallpapering of continuous text. The opposite wall had a canvas with only about ¼ used, typed paper glued to its surface. On another wall, there were two twin canvases covered in squiggly lines of black and white materials: graphite, ink, and beads, and even pearls. Opposite this wall was another canvas, this one using individually-placed letters deposited across the canvas. And this canvas was dirty. Oh, yes: Dust bunnies were harmed in the making of this art. However bizarre and meek the wall pieces seemed, I began thinking, “this show is about mark-making.” The lamps pointed me to the canvases, on which lines point me to the next canvas, the next thought, the next found material. Oh wait, of course, this show is about a personal journey. Great, phewf, I figured it out. This show is about self-discovery. (Don’t IKEA, dust, and self-discovery-tastic adolescence go together nicely?)
But after these interpretative breakthroughs, and after making several quick laps around the small room, I was left a) slightly dizzy and b) still confused. What was I to make of this wall art? What does this text mean? Even if there was some beauty within the pieces, I, frankly, did not care to look. Did Josef Strau actually want me to stand and read every word of his wallpaper-sized musings (which seemed to be from a made-up language, reflections on art, philosophy, poetry, etc.)? Was I supposed to ponder the meaning of a mod-podge canvas, complete with pearls stolen from mom’s vanity? Well, I’m pretty sure he wanted me to. The lamps led you to the walls, their light casually asking that you come and stay awhile. The gallery had become a room inside of a home. This room was not transitory, you came and you came to stay. But I was choosing not to. Suddenly, the pathetic lamps were strong and confident. Had they read the gibberish up on the walls? Of course not. But they respected it, and when I decided that I did not, the whole room turned upon me. A once welcoming space was now intimidating and harsh. I began to notice the eerie simplicity to everything in the room: the lamps were thin, the font simple, the beads overlaying the print-out texts were skinny and lacked real purpose. This room was Strau’s mind, posited in the gallery, its most essential content mounted to prove its importance and better its position to convince you to stay.
Strau’s previous work has been centered around the abstract idea of a “non-productive attitude.”1 That is, the execution of ideas isn’t important, but rather, the raw ideas prove to be really all one needs. But, of course, this work is a contradiction, for the pieces were made and installed in the gallery, thus manifesting the thought, which should have been good enough just as that thought. What I, in turn, find fascinating about this show is Strau’s want not to simply exemplify this idea. If that were the case, he would create a messy room where sketches linked with complicated language littered upon the walls and the ceiling with crumpled-up paper strewn about the baseboards. That would be the mind in thought on a subject. In this installation, he presents to artists and spectators alike the idea of “non-productivity.” He is presenting an ideal mind who ascribes to this theory. But, of course, this is his own mind. He did coin this means of intellectually-dominated practice. The title of the show, “Iniquities Suspend,” then is a charge for all to strive to convert their minds towards this ideal. Stop partaking in messy thought, clouded by the need to physically produce! Stay awhile inside the non-productive attitude. Let the lamps keep you company as you parse through the seemingly-complicated, actually-simple musings on the walls. Get to know this space so that you can make one of your own.
But even after my utterly satisfying and complex experience of coming to understand Strau’s exquisitely purposeful space, I still am not inspired to stay awhile. His simplicity was simple enough for me to understand, but simplicity is too complex a mindset for me to adopt.
1 "Josef Strau". Kunstaspekte.
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