Brian Slattery photo
The gloriously trashy wonderland of garage-art "Auto."
A garage full of treasures. A squirrel on a tightrope. A tree full of wishes. These are among the discoveries that await those who embark on The Exchange, a treasure hunt of an art show that is the brainchild of New Haven-based artists Suzan Shutan and Howard el-Yasin of SomethingProjects.
It’s running now through Nov. 1, and those who dive in may find themselves criss-crossing not only the Elm City, but the state. The art they find, meanwhile, offers an opportunity not just for viewing, but — as the name implies — for interaction, and change.
Shutan and el-Yasin put out the call to artists to participate in The Exchange in May, explaining in their guidelines that their vision for the project entailed“a statewide Art Treasure Hunt with unconventional public exhibition sites.” (Read about that here.)
“The artwork should be presented in an accessible location in your community, however preferably on private rather than public property (not on city or state-owned property so as to avoid liability responsibility),” the guidelines continued. “We encourage you to consider creative ways to avoid liability concerns, such as using a laminated QR code or creating a mailbox-sized installation. This is after all a treasure hunt to engage the public in a fun and meaningful way. All art media will be considered and there are no size requirements for The Exchange, but preference will be given to the feasibility of the artist’s proposal, including public spectator access to the installation/site.”
The Exchange was intended “to encourage artists to embrace and promote curiosity and precarity as action, to support and explore”; “to enliven and challenge the communities at our landings”; “to be the spark that ignites possibilities”; and to “encourage artists to step outside their boundaries and experiment with the intersection of materials, production, presentation and means of engagement with audience and space.”
From among those who answered the call, Shutan and el-Yasin selected 23 artists — Jeff Becker, Meg Bloom, David Borawski, Susan Breen, Joy Bush, Susan Clinard, Jennifer Davies, Sierra Dennehy, Ellen Hackl Fagan, Crystal Heiden, Allison Hornak, Fritz Horstman, Joe Bun Keo, Judith Kruger, Susan McCaslin, Bailey Murphy, Adam Niklewicz, Jen Payne, Roxy Savage, Max Schmidt, Rosanne Shea, Kim Van Aelst, and Jo Yarrington — with projects ranging across the state: to Beacon Falls, Easton, Fairfield, Darien, Bridgeport, Hartford, Waterbury, New Haven, Meriden, North Haven, Hamden, Branford, and Washington Depot.
On Saturday, this reporter and his son decided to seek out three of them, somewhat at random: Bailey Murphy and Maxim Schmidt’s project in Meriden, Kimberly Van Aelst’s project in Hamden, and Susan Clinard’s project at the Eli Whitney Barn on the border of Hamden and New Haven.
We began first by visiting the SomethingProjects website, which uses Google Maps to pinpoint the exact location of each project and give directions to it. We started with Meriden, our farthest point.
The directions took us up Route 15 and then onto local roads. We had been to Meriden before, but never from this direction, and never that specific part of town. We passed Neil’s Donuts (alas, closed, but we will return) and a high school. Missing a turn, we ended up in Hubbard Park, which hosts the Daffodil Festival each spring. Regaining our sense of direction, we found ourselves climbing into a residential neighborhood. We spotted Murphy’s and Schmidt’s project from around the corner.
Murphy and Schmidt together had turned a garage into a gloriously trashy wonderland in “Auto,” which they described in accompanying signage as “two interwoven self-portraits, built of wild collections representing social connection and a complete vision of personal identity.” The garage was full of artwork by both artists as well as a dramatic assortment of plastic and plush figures, from Beanie Babies to dinosaurs.
The artists also offered invitingly detailed instructions; every visitor, after soaking up the sensory overload of the space, was invited to take almost any object from the space. Visitors were then asked to write their name, a description of the object, and why they took that specific object in a visitor log. The log, already with many entries in it, was swiftly becoming part of the piece. Visitor’s explanations for taking certain objects ranged from the immediate (“it cool”) to the contemplative (“it reminded me of objects I would nervously play with in doctors’ offices as a kid”).
Murphy’s and Schmidt’s piece may have been a celebration of themselves, but it was very much a celebration of community. We laughed out loud at many of the pieces, and enjoyed speculating as to how the two had accumulated so many cool things. “Auto” was a chance to step into the artists’ minds, and to bathe in a sense of warm generosity, the kind of exchange Shutan and el-Yasin talked about.
We took a plastic dinosaur that was wearing a sweater and a party hat. Who could resist the partysaur? Not us.
In Hamden, I at first drove by the curbside garden, but as I passed, the squirrel caught my eye, and I pulled over. Unlike other squirrels in the vicinity, this one was carrying a parasol on a tightrope. Kimberly Van Aelst’s whimsical Great Squirrelini, it turned out, had a serious point to make. “My garden is made up of plants exchanged from neighbors and friends,” an accompanying note stated. “It is not just beautiful to look at and smell, but also a quiet protest of lawns and purchasing plants. A sculpted squirrel balances precariously on a high-wire to represent the balance of caring for nature versus our planet’s demise. This piece is also meant as a means for encouraging more renegade gardens in lieu of the lawn and also for my love of squirrels.”
The balance Van Aelst mentioned was on display throughout the piece. Stopping to observe the Great Squirrelini also meant noticing how Van Aelst had created a lush curbside garden, one that was still producing flowers — and still remaining green during the drought even as the lawns around it burned to brown. Van Aelst also offered something that visitors could take with them — a packet of wildflower seeds for people to start gardens of their own.
A couple miles away, pulling into the parking lot of the Eli Whitney Barn revealed that the space had become the site of something that, even at first glance, felt a little sacred, as the tree near the fence was already covered in ribbons, the recipient of a ceremony.
“A wishing tree is an individual tree which has been chosen for offerings to have a wish granted, or a prayer heard. People traditionally come from all over the community to adorn the tree … each offering a different dream, a desire, a longing. This centuries-old tradition is found all over the world,” an accompanying note from artist Susan Clinard stated.
Nearby was a box of markers and materials to make a wish that one could tie to the tree. “Leave your wish with words or silently with a ribbon. Collectively we share our longings with a tree, swaying in the breeze together, read and experienced by others. It brings awareness and a shared sense of belonging.”
The explanation was an invitation to participate, but little explanation was needed. Among the multitude of wishes were hopes for big changes — ending racism, homelessness, sexism, hunger — and prayers that loved ones might recover from illness. Prayers for guidance. Hopes that we might cultivate a more nourishing relationship with nature. The cumulative effect of all those hopes and dreams in the same place was moving and, at the same time, serene. It was a place to linger and savor the warm afternoon. Making a wish ribbon was a way to participate. The exchange was the knowledge that among us were hundreds of people who had already come and made the same short trip off Whitney Avenue, and taken part in the same project, hoping for better things.
“The Exchange” runs through Nov. 1 all through the area and the state. Visit the SomethingProjects website for a map, instructions, artist bios and many other details.