Jason Meadows. Venice Beach Beach Cruiser Challenge, 2012.

The title of VBB is apropos—a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Venice Biennale in Italy, the oldest international biennial in the world—and VBB was indeed a savvy satire of the global biennial phenomenon that gently questioned the economies of culture. Biennials and art fairs have long been utilized as civic strategies to drive cultural tourism, and as international biennial curator and critic Ivo Mesquita remarks, “There’s nothing new in this system, which seems to reproduce endlessly. On the contrary, it seems to validate economy more than arts and culture.” Rather, Mesquita posits, “it would be better for artists and exhibition curators to design and carry out projects…taking into account the challenges of a world of fluid identities and trespassed borders—one in which local and global are inexorably linked, where politics is cultural…and where such unresolved contradictions provide the dynamic space of creative inventiveness.” VBB embraced this dissolution of boundaries and network of political, economic, and cultural linkages through its amorphous structure—it layered over and blended with the local culture in a way that was not at all oppositional or interventionist, but rather embedded and respectful of the informal and formal relations of the boardwalk itself. In this way, it created a semi-autonomous space for creative production that could not be instrumentalized (in that moment) by a typical art world economy, but instead promoted a more democratic cross-current of exchanges that conformed to the culture of the boardwalk. Both high-level collector and weekend tourist could haggle over the same art performances, trinkets, and art objects following precisely the same social codes. All the artists arrived bleary-eyed at 5:30am each morning to claim their vendor stalls.

Of course, it would be naïve to believe that the nicely produced map/brochure, Hammer web and media presence, and inclusion in the VBB would translate into cultural capital that could be equally cashed in by every artist on the boardwalk. For many, their lives will continue as usual, with their participation in VBB perhaps yielding a positive uptick in sales for a few days, some good connections (and others that are fairly meaningless), maybe some flack from their neighbors and fellow regulars who remain unsure of the Hammer’s motives. It’s hard to say. For some of the “white cube” artists, participation in this event will increase their artistic capital and result in potentially lucrative connections, especially for recently graduated MFAs for whom this is their first museum-sponsored exhibition. Or maybe not so much—it’s hard to say.

It was also hard to put my finger on exactly what I took away from VBB, but as I reluctantly returned my bike, collected some trinkets that had piled up in my basket, and headed back to my car, I reveled in the memories of a great ride on the beach, some fascinating artwork, a two-headed turtle, Jimi Hendrix on roller skates, a dog in a bikini, and some good conversations. Which is quite a bit more than your typical art opening. As Ali described, “It’s exhilarating to have the conversation of art amongst all the noise.”

-Sue Bell Yank, Assistant Director, Academic Programs

Filed under: Venice Beach Biennial

Matt Chambers with his painted beach towels.

Sue Bell Yank is the Associate Director of Academic Programs at the Hammer Museum. She also writes about contemporary art for various arts outlets, including her own blog, Social Practice.

On Friday July 13, I rented a pink beach cruiser (with a basket!) on the edge of the Santa Monica-Venice border and rode south to check out the Venice Beach Biennial. A weekend-long affair organized by Hammer curator Ali Subotnick in conjunction with the Hammer’s first Made in LA biennial, the VBB took place Friday-Sunday in public spaces between 17th Ave and Ozone Ave on Ocean Front Walk, with a cluster of activity in the recreation and parks area. Although I am a Hammer staff member, I was uninvolved in the planning of the biennial and had few expectations other than a vague notion that “white cube” artists (contemporary artists who traditionally show in gallery and museum venues) would be exhibiting their wares alongside artists who were Venice Beach regulars.

Sarah and a visitor enjoying Liz Craft's Weed Couch.

When I hit the joyful chaos of Venice, the activities of the VBB blended so seamlessly with the wandering tourists, sidewalk artists, s¬¬and sculptors, skateboarders and loungers that I cruised around a little aimlessly for a while. Slowly, as I got my bearings, signifiers of the VBB began to pop into focus – legions of bobbing pink balloons emblazoned with Arthure Moore’s Funky Pussy logo on most vendor stalls, and screen-printed VBB posters and t-shirts peeked through the crowds. I circled the recreation and parks area for a little while, said hi to Ali and a couple of artists I know, and began to notice some interesting stuff. A little Ooga Booga Chinatown façade by Pentti Monkkonen, some Barbara Kruger stickers on the ground, Liz Craft’s strange yellow Weed Couch, a stark Jason Meadows sculpture, and my buddy Nery Gabriel Lemus stenciling finely ground colored sawdust into precise patterns on the ground. Matt Merkel Hess, wearing a straw fedora, was selling his beautiful, useless ceramic sunglasses in one of the vendor stalls, and Alexis Smith and Scott Grieger were selling a variety of funny objects included gold-plated dog poo (“We made about a hundred dollars,” Alexis shrugged). I tried to use the pink and yellow Hammer-produced map to figure out where everything else was, but the work was so embedded and hidden (in cafes, bookstores, or in the very social systems of the boardwalk itself – like Erika Vogt’s special IOU currency, which I never glimpsed) I quickly gave up, threw the map in my cruiser basket, and began to notice everything interesting¬, VBB or not.

Alexis Smith's Stand.

Which, of course, was precisely the point. The curatorial framework of the VBB was almost the negation of structure – it insisted on fluidity and non-definition. The organizing principles of VBB did not attempt to reign in, but punctuated and interwove a professionalized art world familiar to the Hammer (the university-educated, gallery-represented, MFA set, plus donors, viewers, collectors, and other afficionados) into the slipstream of culture that is the organized chaos of the Venice Boardwalk. Ali Subotnick was intentional in preserving these undefined edges – she told me she was specifically not trying to “go and take over” the boardwalk, but rather to intensify an awareness and serious consideration of all the multivalent artistic activity in Venice Beach, and to highlight its very unique cultural community. “Where is the art?” people would ask. I would answer this by borrowing a phrase from artist Mario Ybarra, Jr., “You’re breathing it in.”

Nery Gabriel Lemus mid project.

-Sue Bell Yank, Associate Director of Academic Programs

Filed under: Venice Beach Biennial

Interview with Venice Beach Biennial artist Albert Culbertson.

Albert Culbertson working on a traditional solar engraving along the Venice boardwalk, at Wave Crest Avenue.

How long have you been selling your work on the boardwalk?
I moved here and started selling my work on the boardwalk in November 1993.

How have you seen it change in that time?
When I was first here nothing could legally be sold. We had to take the city of L.A. to court on our First Amendment rights. That was a big deal and made things legal for artists. Over time a bunch of “entrepreneurs,” as I like to call them, came here and decided to turn the place into a flea market, which is understandable. Why not set up shop on the world’s most valuable real estate for free? The recent ordinance is trying to give it back over to more first amendment type of activities. There’s always politics going on here.

Albert Culbertson and Indira Burgos (Postribalart), Too Late, 2012. 16 x 20 in. Solar engraving; and The Om Girl, 2012. 8 x 10 in. Laser engraving. Both courtesy of Postribalart, http://www.etsy.com/shop/postribalart

Tell us about your work.
I like burning images into wood. I’m mostly a draftsman, as opposed to a painter. About thirty years ago, my daughter and I would burn images with a magnifying glass and sunlight. That’s the way I’ve been doing it for the past couple decades. For the last twelve years I’ve worked with a partner, Indira Burgos. We share an interest in cultural symbology and sustainable resources. Since May we’ve also been using a CO2 laser to burn into the wood. Using solar energy is a very time-consuming process, and quite frankly, the Venice boardwalk is not a big money type of place. You come here, get a 99-cent slice of pizza, and you leave. You watch the freak show all day.

Can you tell tourists from locals?
Yes, pretty much. One way to judge a potential buyer—especially when I’m working with my head down—is to check out their shoes. And when people aren’t carrying bags, you know you’re not going to make any sales. That means the stores aren’t selling anything either. You have to figure out a way to cater to the general public, which is who we cater to out here.

Albert Culbertson working on a traditional solar engraving along the Venice boardwalk, at Wave Crest Avenue.

What brought you to Venice originally?
The weather. When I threw my hands up and said “I don’t want to do anything in life besides make art,” I had to figure out where to do that without freezing to death. What I like about being a boardwalk artist is that my art goes all over the world. I don’t have to go anywhere because the world walks in front of me. I have a piece of work in a helicopter in Cambodia… Picasso can’t say that.

May 24, 2012

Venice boardwalk, Venice, CA

Interview conducted by Claire de Dobay Rifelj

Filed under: Venice Beach Biennial