Art Overload

I had long heard that NE Minneapolis was the arts district. But in all of our passings through we failed to see it. Yes, there were a few galleries hear and there. A theatre. Several bars. And a lot of warehouses. Large seemingly empty brick facades dominating the street blocks. A lot of turn of the century houses, most of which lack the charming artistic whimsy other similarly lauded towns and neighborhoods featured.

We heard little word of events akin to other cities' First Fridays in which countless galleries throw open there doors in the evening hours to showcase a new display of a local artist's work. Complete with wine, beers, snack and sweets. A change to mingle with similarly minded arts supporters. A change to see the faces behind the art work. A change to appreciate the local creativity, and should the pocket book allow, add a little color to a personal collection. Yes, I was aware of several galleries offering exhibit openings. I was slowly becoming aware of a few names in the local art scene. But that was merely a hint of the massive art scene NE supports.

Enter Art-a-Whirl.

All three to the Minneapolis based papers I regularly turn to featured this weekend event. Artists were opening their studios to self guided tours. Galleries promoted new exhibits. Local business provided music, entertainment, and often even more wall space for the event. The claim was 500+ local artists. All in less than a mile radius. Each paper offered their own take on the best way to sample the extensive showcase. The map of the event itself did not look that intimidating...all of the galleries and building housing the studios were pointed out. A lot to be sure, but nothing more than what Ross and I had come to expect driving through NE. A neighborhood full of warehouses.

Turns out is was these seemingly abandoned brick shells that housed the thriving, buzzing hive that is the heart of the neighborhoods creative expression. Ross and I started out together Friday night by walking up and down 13th Ave NE, stopping in every gallery and shop that featured an art-a-whirl banner. An impressive selection. This was what I was accustomed to during Honolulu's First Fridays. And then we hit the Grain Belt Studios and the end of the avenue. A large lobby greeted us, full of a smattering of tables covered in wares for sale. Large paintings and photographs flanked the doorways the lined the space. A walkway and railing encircles the second story. Behind each door, and artist's studio. Some housed only one. Others as many as three. A few rooms appeared to be used solely for showcases. The studios themselves were clear, bright welcoming, with traces of art in progress swept behind curtained areas or regulated haphazardly to shelves. Art screamed from every hang-able surface. Artists smiled and made small talk. There was no mistaking that this was their work space, no matter how careful the attempt to clean up for a showing. It was breathtaking.

The next day I struck out on my own while Ross was at work. All of the papers had mentioned the Northup King Building, either while featuring a specific artist or by mentioning it as a place to go to see a huge range of artists.

Another unassuming brick building. We were lured to the fourth floor by promise of free Peace Coffee. I immediately lost all sense of direction as one room weaved into another, past one table than another, display after display. I very quickly found myself chatting with artist Adam Thurman whose iconic screen prints of Minneapolis are everywhere. A poster designer, he captures easily recognizable landmarks and distills them into a few simple screens of color without losing any of their identifying features. A more mass produced form than many, perhaps, but an art form nonetheless. I was perusing his book of test prints...sheets that contained layer upon layers of colors and different screenings as he sampled and tested work in prep for an actual printing. The happy accidents of color and complexity that resulted, each incredibly unique, were signed and displayed before me. I left with one of his favorites after a brief discussion of screen print paints and additives that can create a pearlescent finish. If his prints start to carrying a more reflective quality...I may be to blame.

Eventually the job ebbed into a long l-shaped corridor lined by door after door of studio space. Some expertly turned into galleries, others offering just enough space around the clutter of materials and works in progress to hang a few representative pieces and a bit of walking space so they may be admired.

Oil, acrylic, watercolor pastel. Metal sculpture. Pottery, tile and mosaic. Jewelry, weaving, dying, and garments. Abstract, landscape, portraiture. Surreal and real. Emotional and stoic. Room after room. Wall after wall. Over one hundred artistic crammed into this one building alone. I managed to see all of the fourth floor. Already weary, I viewed maybe half of the next. Overwhelmed and inspired. The entire experience was breathtaking....and incredibly tiring.

After this weekend I am so much more in love with this city.