A Call to Place

—Utah Arts & Museums – For immediate release on March 1, 2016

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SALT LAKE CITY — Utah Arts & Museums announces A Call to Place: The first five years of the Frontier Fellowship. The exhibition highlights the town of Green River through a project initiated by Epicenter, an interdisciplinary nonprofit organization.

The town of Green River lies within the lunar landscape of eastern Utah: rock cliffs reveal striations of sediment with boulders clustered below fracturing buttes. Green River is a place where the land is plentiful and the red dust, burnt cliffs, and lonely sky lie just beyond the end of its roads. Prismatic sunsets give way to stars that shine bold and close. If you’ve never seen monolithic terraces under an oceanic sky, Green River is the seeing place. The only town of consequence for many miles, Green River has been a welcomed sight to travelers for well over a century. Uranium mining, the construction of a missile base, and other economic booms led to times of prosperity that proved short-lived. As jobs disappeared and the newly built Interstate 70 routed travelers around, rather than through the town, businesses closed shop, buildings fell into disrepair, and the town’s population dwindled to its current size of 952. During the recent recession, Epicenter began partnering with the city and residents to reverse Green River’s economic misfortunes and strengthen the community.

Epicenter’s visiting artists, “Frontier Fellows,” prove an integral part of this revitalization by discerning and celebrating Green River’s rural pride and pioneering spirit. The exhibition, A Call to Place, features the first five years of Frontier Fellows, 50 visiting artists and collaborators who have each spent up to one month in residence generating place-based work in Green River alongside the community.

“We’re delighted to celebrate and reflect on one of our most stunning rural communities in Utah” said Gay Cookson Utah Arts & Museums Director, “Epicenter, and the respective fellows, are playing an important role in their community while expanding the boundaries of how we think about art making. Undoubtedly the contributions and perspective offered by these visiting artists will make a lasting impact.”

The exhibition runs from Mar. 18th-May 13th, 2016. An artist reception will be held on Mar. 18th from 6-9 p.m. for Gallery Stroll. The Rio Gallery is located inside the Rio Grande Depot at 300 S. Rio Grande Street, Salt Lake City. Gallery hours are 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday – Friday. Additionally the Gallery is open in partnership with The Downtown Winter Farmers Market every other Saturday from 10am-2pm from January 16th-April 23rd, 2016.

Thanks to the National Endowment for the Arts (Artworks), Utah Division of Arts and Museums, AmeriCorps VISTA, and Steve and Juanita Sykes for their generous support of this project.

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Participating artists/collaboratives:

Charlotte XC Sullivan, Zoe Minikes, Zorth Pilioneta, Miles Mattison, Nick Zdon, Daniel Strauss, Nicole Lavelle, Ali Osborn, Jamey Herman, Richard Saxton, Sarah Baugh, Justin Flood, Raphael Griswold, Emily Howe, Aidan Koch, Shawn Creeden, Catherine Page-Harris, Kristina Fong, Corbin Lamont, Zach Bulick, Russell Kerr, Cabin Time, Erica Dixon, Dylan Adams, Bennett Williamson, Gina Abelkop, Colin Bliss, Lucia Carroll, Cyrus Smith, Sincerely Interested, Michelle Benoit, Molly Goldberg, Mary Rothlisberger, Celia Hollander, Ryan Ford, Grayson Earle, Jordan Topiel Paul, Andrew Hamblin, Spence Kroll, Eliza Fernand, Geoffrey Holstad, Rob Loucks, Pete Collard & Alice Masters, Lisa Ward, Emily Howe, Jordan Gulasky, Phil Dagostino, High Desert Test Sites, Laurelin Kruse, and Sarah Lillegard.

Curation: Epicenter
Design: Corbin LaMont

For more information on the Fellowship visit frontierfellowship.org.

RSVP to the event here.

Frontier Fellowship Report: Rob Loucks


May was my first time back to Green River since I stopped to get gas in the middle of the night in 2013. So, it is safe to say I knew nothing about the town. What little I knew I got from internet research and phone calls. I also knew that my Google-knowledge was going to be ineffective/useless once I got to town and had a direct, time intensive experience.

So, in preparation for my time in Green River I started asking myself a few questions:
-What does authentic engagement mean? What does it look like?
-How will I know if I successfully experienced the “true” Green River?
-What kind of meaningful relationships can be made in one month?
-What project could I conceive and execute that would add to the spirit and dialogue of the town in a deeply meaningful way?

And after all that preparation, when I actually got to Green River the first thing that caught me was all the fantastic clouds.

Talking about the weather is one of my favorite things. With such a short time to get to know the town of Green River and its residents (and those just passing through) the weather makes for a convenient way to start a conversation. Weather is always there, all around you, all the time.

At worst talking about the weather can be a boring conversation, at best it can be the pickup line that introduces you to your one true love! Most of the time it is just a quiet agreement between two people that you are both together in this same moment of time and space waiting for the rain to break so you can leave Melon Vine without your groceries getting soaked.

What I like about clouds is that they are named for a moment in time. To call a cloud a cumulus is to name it in a moment between what it was and what it will become. A cloud can be non existent and then become a cumulus and develop into stratocumulus and back again in a single sitting.

Much like clouds, to give words to my experience in Green River is to pin down one instance in a complex flow of moments, people, and circumstance that bloomed into a temporary form. I struggle with a desire to commit ephemera to a fixed state but also let things flow.

Its that struggle that kept me aware of my fleeting time in Green River and how my experience is different from folks who lived there before my arrival and will continue to live there after I left. To aim for an honest response that would be respectful of a town I would never know as deeply as its residents.

My desire to make meaningful work was tempered against my desire to be cautious and respectful. This opened up a line of questions for me:
-How can a work be successful for many different audiences: residents, travelers, trained artists, people viewing the documentation of the work online, etc.?
-If most people will view my work through images on the internet, how can I design work that will be successful on that platform yet still be deeply rooted in site specificity?
-How could my work be part of a dialogue about complex histories without erasing or overshadowing that history?
-Given the short duration of my visit to Green River, how deep could I expect to get into any one topic and how will that affect the measures of success for work that demands complexity?

I spent my first week wandering the town and the surrounding desert hoping to uncover the answers I needed. I was hypnotized by the beautiful decay of the rocky landscape. The patterns of erosion and history that frame every view from town. I couldn’t help but find comfort in the fact that a damaged environment could illicit such joy and admiration, inspiring travelers to come from afar just to be amongst the broken rocks.

On the other hand, I was disappointed to witness travelers taking photos of decaying structures in town. Romanticizing the aesthetics of ruin. Creating contextless images to send out to people who would might never understand this town from a direct, visceral, and deeply personal perspective. I was concerned that when people do a Google search for Green River that the results would be a landslide of images showing a town in disrepair.

I took this as a cue to develop a project that capitalized on that impulse to photograph degradation. I chose a room in an abandoned missile test launch facility on the east side of town as my focus. I tracked down the paint color that was originally used in the 1960’s and got to work repainting the walls and the broken wall pieces that had been scattered across the floor after many incidences of vandalism. After cleaning the room of dirt and debris, I carefully reinstalled the painted, broken wall pieces on the floor as fresh objects. The arrangement mimics the original history of destruction but has been recodified as a space of intention, consideration and care.

This piece maintains the history or the building with the original paint color and its history of abandonment while redirecting the impulse to photograph decay. The hope is that it will interrupt the passive photograph by presenting a surreal combination of brand new and broken. Now that the room is cleaned and the objects are fresh will it still make a compelling photograph? Is the history of damage enough to generate interest in the image? Is there something inherently beautiful about the way things break?

Likewise, the other project I executed is in a deserted souvenir shop. I created 4 new souvenirs that were installed in the former store and available for adventurous visitors to take:
-4 postcards commemorating the weather at specific times and days during my residence
-A bumper sticker with a Wallace Stegner quote and the outline of the Book Cliffs
-A box of painted river rocks styled after late 60’s space-race design
-A box displaying “sold out” paperweights in the shape of leftover watermelon rinds

As I started asking myself how I would communicate my time in Green River, I began to question the nature of souvenirs and commemorative objects. I tried to reimagine the objects of a gift shop that could create authentic experience rather than just capitalize on the desire to prove attendance.

By leaving these objects unattended in the old gift shop I invite visitors to replace the paradigm of “paying money in exchange for objects that commemorate your experience” with one where the acquisition of the object is the experience itself. And because the intention of the objects is a bit opaque, they demand an extra amount of engagement to make them meaningful. To take one of my postcards and mail it necessitates a deeper explanation and connection than simply writing “wish you were here”. It dictates deeper involvement and specificity. These objects of tourism deny easily accessed tourism experiences and in its place offer opportunities for authentic engagement.

With these two projects I hope to create new awareness around what it means to visit a place, photograph it, commemorate it, and leave it with an eye toward authentic, respectful experience but also pathways for meaningful interactions.

On my last day in town, the clouds finally dissipated. It was a sunny day and folks were driving to the beach while I drove North back to Portland. We are all in constant motion, reconfiguring to become something again tomorrow. I’m grateful for my short time in Green River and all the ways that it will affect who I become tomorrow.

Friday, June 12th, 2015
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2015 Visiting Artists & Designers

Announcing, Epicenter’s Frontier Fellows and visiting creative professionals for 2015! Top left to bottom right:

Geoffrey Holstad
Ojai, California, USA (graphic designer and artist)

Rob Loucks
Portland, Oregon, USA (artist and dj)

Pete Collard
London, England, United Kingdom (writer and curator)

Lisa Ward
Portland, Oregon, USA (architect and artist)

Emily Howe, Jordan Gulaskey, and Phillip Dagostino
The West, USA (designer, printmaker, and neurosurgeon respectively)

High Desert Test Sites
Joshua Tree, California, USA (non-profit organization)

Laurelin Kruse
Los Angeles, California, USA (artist and curator)

Sarah Lillegard
Reno, Nevada, USA (artist and educator)

Friday, February 6th, 2015
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