Disguise the Limit at the Schneider Museum of Art
John Yau's poetics of collaboration
First a quick note: I am behind again. The last couple of weeks have been packed. I realize I have been wearing several hats lately, sometimes in a single day. I did have a lovely trip out to Walla Walla, Washington to take my daughter to interview at Whitman College. I gave my artist talk at Archer Gallery for my show American Underland as I continue to teach and try to shape Building Five. In all of that, I had the opportunity to head south to Ashland to the Schneider Museum of Art at Southern Oregon University to see my old friend Stuart Horodner, Director of the University of Kentucky Art Museum and curator of Disguise the Limit: John Yau’s Collaborations.
John Yau is a poet by trade but he has been an art critic for decades. Whenever I see his byline on Hyperallergic Weekend I know I’m in for something good. He is one of a handful of poet-critics who can be counted on to bolster my belief in visual art. Yau has published many books of poetry and prose such as the poems in Tell it Slant and the essays on art and identity in Please Wait in the Coatroom: Reconsidering Race and Identity in American Art both from 2023.
The exhibition is a treat. The work comes from decades worth of collaborations with artists both famous and lesser known. Some are friends, some former students and some came from mutual admiration. Some of the works feel off-handed while some are more formal. Even when seemingly tossed off, the image/text interplay betrays a well-honed mind for the craft of language. Disguise the Limit is a jolt of joyful creation. Horodner conceived of the exhibition a few years ago after inviting Yau to come speak at the University of Kentucky’s creative writing program. Horodner’s goal was to spark inspiration in the regions’ writers to consider the fruitful act of writing about art. Yau mentioned the many collaborations he’d done in passing. Out of that the exhibition was born.
One reason I have admired Yau as a critic is that like most poets, he is not a writer of polemics. When I read one of his reviews or artist profiles, I know I’m getting a viewpoint that gives the work a fair shake. That viewpoint may be strong and well-honed but is not programmatic. It is an invitation to experience a work that I might not get to see or, if upon reading will want to seek out for myself. That openness is on view at the Schneider Museum, deftly hung from the original show in Kentucky by SMA director Scott Malbaurn. Loose limbed linguistics manifest into a myriad of visual idioms operate like the small hammers of zen koans. Some literally are koans. His collaboration with New Zealand born artist Max Gimblett, a practitioner of zen consists of abstract ink drawings and letterpressed koans written by Yau.
In pieces where the collaboration happened in person and in real time a certain electricity is present. His collaboration with Peter Saul “Two Hours” was literally done in two hours just before a critique. Saul wanted to write so he made Yau draw. They pushed each other to see who could descend into further absurdity. There is a gonzo adolescent density to the images. Friendships are also evident. His friendship with Tom Burkhardt and comfort with each other is clear in their painted collaborations. Dismantling the language of roadsigns and old roadside neon. “A Void Going Back” reads one sign in an unnamed park.
Language becomes concrete through image just at the moment it disintegrates, slipping through your grasp. His alphabet series with Archie Rand contains this nugget: “Anna May Wong at the Cedar Bar”. Anna May Wong was an Asian actress in the Golden Age of Hollywood typecast as the conniving foreign temptress. The Cedar Bar is the near mythical watering hole of the Abstract Expressionists. At first the phrase has a ringing thusness that makes sense. If you didn’t know who Anna May Wong was that first bell strike might not resonate further. Knowing that she would never have been included in the hard-drinking men’s club of the Abstract Expressionists and there is a slight anachronism it takes on the form of a dream. The cheek of the phrase then is wistful and a little pissed. Yau saw Wong in the 1927 silent film The Streets of Shanghai when he was seventeen. It was the first time he’d seen an Asian actress get to hold power on screen. That Wong’s presence among AbEx luminaries such as DeKooning and Pollock would be ridiculous reminds you to ask why should it would be. The resonance of the language and image alchemy can work on the viewer over time or strike quickly.
The show is also just very funny. Here’s another one from the alphabet series: “Need a Facelift? 1(800) IOU-SHIT”. The painting depicts a crudely rendered sink on a purple and gold checkered tile floor. “Mike Mallet meets Mike Hammer” is one from the series with Chuck Webster. That piece is an example of the kind of transmissions that come from a mind whose radio antennae are fine tuned to the multitudinous airwaves of culture. Film history, poems, artists, artworks and music all arrive in these variegated works. Yau has worked with painters, printmakers and photographers. In their Friday afternoon talk, Yau said, “Collaborations make me more relaxed.”
I have long been convinced that poets tend to make better critics than theorists. Art writers who write from a position first or need to hammer home a curatorial mandate have no problem chopping the toes off of the artwork so it will fit the glass slipper of their pet theory. Yau talked about the need to meet the work and point to what got at you. This means you have to write in relationship with the artwork itself, not lay a cartographic stranglehold over it so that it conforms to preconceived boundaries. Poets he says, are more sympathetic.
One continuous theme that ran through our conversations is the polemical nature of the contemporary art world. This is manifested intensely in college art programs, institutions and what is left of national art magazines like Artforum. Artists are taught to defend a position first. So much of the language addressing artworks have curdled into marble mouthed collages of catch phrases or simply market speculation. One could argue there is no address at all but a scolding or patronizing assumption of the artwork’s muteness. There is an inherent generosity to the collaborations in the show and to Yau’s own writing. An openness to chaos and the fertility of crappiness electrifies the exhibition. None of the work in Disguise the Limit was ever made with the market or exhibitions in mind. It is part of Horodner’s keen instincts to assemble it that this show and catalog exists.
The trip down to Ashland and the opportunity to spend time with these nimble thinkers is a reminder of the need for mercurial, joyful and imaginal writing in the service of artworks. Art is dumb and sneaky, radiant and ecstatic, tightlipped and talkative as a lonely drunk. It doesn’t really care what you think just as it craves your reassuring hug. This is poet’s work, not cartographers of theory or captains of industry.
A little postscript: If you live within six hours of Ashland, do yourself a favor and make the drive. The Schneider is a gem. If we’re going to have a healthy arts ecology we all have to work harder to connect with each other. Ashland has great restaurants, it’s gorgeous this time of year and the work wants to be seen in person. I hear (and have myself) bemoaned the lack of support or diversity in the region. Sometimes you just have to do it yourself.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Speaking of showing up, my exhibition American Underland is up until December 20. I’d love to see you on NOVEMBER 2 from 1-4 PM. It is the Saturday reception for the show. I will be there. 1933 Fort Vancouver Way, Vancouver, WA 98663
And opening on October 27 at the Oregon Jewish Museum and Holocaust Education Center is a show I curated, The Only Way to Hold a Weight: Richard Serra Prints from the Jordan Schnitzer Family Collection.
I’m bringing Enrique Chagoya to Reed College for my Visual Narrative class. He will be speaking at the chapel on Wednesday October 30 at 6:30. The lecture is free and open to the public.
Thank you for this. It seems the poet is absolutely qualified to make sense of visual art.