July 12, 2005
Dear Skin,
Yesterday does not leave. It stays, stretched across the sheets, shifting where it should remain. The folds are where they always were, but they are not the same. The fabric holds more, or perhaps less. My fingers trace them, though they slip between something ungraspable—mine, but not mine. You hold them differently. Do you feel it? The way they settle, the way they resist being named? The air does not change, and yet, it tastes like something it has not been before.
The room arrives before I enter it. The table is unchanged but heavier now, as if the dust has gathered into something heavier. It has taken on a form, or maybe a memory, or maybe a question. I think of writing my name, but the thought does not finish. The table has been waiting, it notices.
The light bends at an angle I have seen before. The walls hold their place, but the space between them is unfamiliar. Not smaller, not larger—only shifting at the edges, only waiting to be measured.
***
May 20, 2012
Dear Skin,
I wake, Yesterday pressed onto me. The sheets crease, but not as they did before. Or exactly as they did before. The lines fall elsewhere. My fingers follow them, slow, then quick. Too slow. Too quick. The air does not press, does not lift. It does not move. Or it does. Or I do.
I arrive before I walk. The table is here, but it waits differently. It does not settle. The dust does not settle.It collects, folds into itself, edges forming where there were none before. Or there were. Or there always have been. The dust holds something, something between us, something that has neither begun nor ended.I write my name. I recognize it. I do not recognize it. It is there. It is not there.
The walls do not press, but the space between them moves. I have been here before. The corners are softer. The light has shifted. It has always shifted like this. Hasn’t it?
**
September 16, 2020
Dear Skin,
Yesterday stays. No, it presses. No, it thins. The sheets hold something I do not remember giving them.Or they give me something I do not remember holding. My fingers trace the folds deliberately. They are mine. They are not mine. They never were.
The table is not the same. Or it is. Or it never was. The dust does not settle. The dust is not dust. The linesremain, but they do not remain where they should. Or they do. Or they never needed to. You feel it too,don’t you? The way things shift without shifting, hold without holding? Hold? Hold what?
The space does not answer, but it listens. The walls shift when I turn away, but when I look again, they are not where they were. They are not where they were. They were never where they were. The table inthe corner is clean. The table in the corner is clean. The table is in the corner. The table is. There is nothing left to hold.
*
November 11, 2029
Dear Skin,
Yesterday does not leave. Yesterday does not stay. Yesterday is not. The sheets are not pressed. They do not hold. They are only there. They were always there. They were never there.
The table holds nothing now. Or everything. Or something that was never meant to be held. The dust doesnot move, yet it remains. The lines have fallen, but they do not fall. There is no name to write. There is noname. There is no.
The walls are the walls. The walls are. The room is. The space between them is space. The space does not shift. It does not shift. It does not. It does not need to.
There is nothing else.
Öykü Kolat is an arts organizer and writer living between Chicago and Istanbul, Turkey. She writes for KAFKAOKUR and Öykü Gazetesi and has guest curated shows at Salt and Pilot Galeri in Istanbul. Previously, she held positions at the Museum of Contemporary Photography and Monique Meloche Gallery. She received her BA in Art History from Columbia College Chicago in 2021.
Opening reception:
February 7th, 2025
5:00 – 8:00
Guest curator hours/walk through:
March 7th, 2025
6:00 – 8:00 walk through at 7:00
*****Special thanks to Intuit Art Museum for helping make this exhibition possible.
-
Veronica "Ronnie" CuculichPhotograph Girl, 2009Multi media on wood13 ½ x 13 in.
34.3 x 33 cm. -
Brian ReedUntitled, 2023Ceramic1 x 5 x 4 ½ in.Sold
2.5 x 12.7 x 11.4 cm. -
Brian ReedUntitled, 2023Ceramic2 ½ x 4 x 3 in.
6.3 x 10.2 x 7.6 cm.artsoflife - Brian Reed, Untitled, 2023$ 200.00 -
Brian ReedUntitled, 2023Ceramic2 x 5 x 4 in.Sold
5.1 x 12.7 x 10.2 cm. -
David EspinosaOil Paint, 2024Monotype on paper10 x 8 in.Sold
25.4 x 20.3 cm. -
Renata BerdesUntitled (Window), n.d.Foil tape on wood32 x 48 in.
81.3 x 121.9 cm.artsoflife - Renata Berdes, Untitled (Window), n.d.$ 1,800.00 -
Tim Stone2024, 2023Graphite on paper19 x 24 in.
48.3 x 61 cm.artsoflife - Tim Stone, 2024, 2023$ 1,500.00 -
Stefan HarhajCopied Flowers , 2023Mixed media on paper19 x 24 in.Sold
48.3 x 61 cm. -
David EspinosaOil Paint, 2024Monotype on paper10 x 8 in.Sold
25.4 x 20.3 cm. -
Ted Gram-BoariniUntitled, n.d.Acrylic paint on board, string, hardware, wood16 x 19 ¾ x 20 in.
40.6 x 50.2 x 50.8 cm.artsoflife - Ted Gram-Boarini, Untitled, n.d.$ 700.00 -
Dan MillerRace , n.d.Typed text on paper24 x 11 in.
61 x 27.9 cm. -
Myat Moondog HaggartEmpire State Building Model, 2024Cardboard, glue, paint, rocks36 x 21 x 17 in.
91.4 x 53.3 x 43.2 cm.artsoflife - Myat Moondog Haggart, Empire State Building Model, 2024$ 1,000.00 -
Myat Moondog Haggart with Kara Bohnenstiel and Danny HoleGravity is Wild, 2021Recorded music onto digital format8 minutes and 15 seconds looped
Born in 1994, Renata Berdes’ persistence and focus in pursuit of her artistic outcomes is indomitable. Themes, or what she often calls “obsessions,” are pursued with much intention. When viewed collectively, her sculptural works suggest the assemblage of a new space that plays with scale and permanence. Individually her sculptures are imbued with the magic of what is possible; first there was nothing, and now by Berdes’ hands and imagination the object exists. Found objects are unified through an intimate connection with the sense of touch that manifests in rich textures. Berdes invites us to see the world from her perspective and delights viewers with her reinterpretation of what is. Berdes’ work has been exhibited at the Outsider Art Fair in NYC, Chazen Museum of Art in Wisconsin, and is in the permanent collection at the University of Wisconsin Waisman Foundation. “I really like art because you can see everything through art. I got plexiglass for the door because I can see through it. I can see stuff in there. I really like what I made. I was using some string for that water. I like that box that you gave me. It was a good idea, using that box."
David Espinosa is one of Arts of Life's newest members. David joined the Chicago studio in 2024.
Born in 1984, Ted Gram-Boarini is at once a visual artist and musician, and his preferred modes of artistic expression are mutually influential. This is witnessed in the mesmerizing rhythm of his brush strokes, and in the artistry of the lyrics he has written as a member of the North Shore studio band, Van Go Go. Gram-Boarini reimagines music and movie references into acrylic paintings on canvas. Distinctively, his introspective nature and personal connection to the reference always shine through. Gram-Boarini allows us to see him through his work, while leaving space for the viewer’s personal reverie. Ted is also a member of the agency’s educator track and has given artist talks in other community spaces. His work has been included in Spirits Spirits guest curated by Eli Greene and Devin T. Mays and Perceptions of Flow: Movement at the Evanston Art Center. “The weirder the better. I like being out there with the titles I do. I want all these images I use as reference to show who I am as a person and where I get ideas from. I use the image and then kind of abstract from that. It’s how I hold on to the image in my head and then make it as abstract as I can.”
Myat Moondog Haggart was born in New York City in 2005. Deafblind with additional differences, his work, his utmost concentration with the materiality, and his often towering form, challenge the viewer in the mediums of painting, sculpture, and sound pieces. Myat Moondog Haggart’s work has been shown to artist-friends throughout Britain, Europe, and the USA. He currently attends Perkins School for the Blind, Boston, and lives betweenMassachusetts and New York City.
Dan Miller (Born 1961 in Castro Valley, California) Practices at Creative Growth Art Center, 1992-present. Miller’s artwork comprises overlays of words and imagery that often build to the point of abstraction. Each work contains a written record of Miller’s interest in objects found in the hardware stores and construction sites. In particular, light bulbs, electrical sockets, jackhammers, and soldering guns. With limited expressive language, Miller learned early to type and write words and numbers to communicate. Text became the primary influence on his artistic practice, transforming words and symbols into graphic elements, and employing an abstract visual language as a tool of inquiry and expression. Miller has had solo exhibitions at White Columns, Andrew Edlin Gallery, and Ricco Maresca Gallery in New York, Galerie Christian Berst in Paris, and Diane Rosenstein Gallery in Los Angeles. His work was selected for the Venice Biennale in 2017, and has been included in exhibitions at the Museum of Modern Art; Smithsonian American Art Museum; Berkeley Art Museum; The Museum of Everything, London; Gavin Brown’s enterprise, Rachel Uffner Gallery and Partners & Spade, New York; Gallery Paule Anglim, Jules Maeght and 836M, San Francisco; Nina Johnson Gallery, Miami; John Michael Kohler Arts Center, Sheboygan; Galerie Christian Berst and ABCD, Paris. Miller’s work is included in the permanent collections of the Smithsonian American Art Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Museum of Modern Art, Centre Pompidou, American Folk Art Museum, Berkeley Art Museum, Mad Musée, and the Collection de l’Art Brut, Lausanne. Miller’s work is also included in the private collections of David Byrne, Cindy Sherman, Maurizio Cattelan, Martin and Rebecca Eisenberg, Thea Westreich and Ethan Wagner, Nicolas Rohatyn and Jeanne Greenberg Rohatyn, Andy and Kate Spade, among many others.
Born in 1972, Brian Reed’s art practice is guided by his inquisitive nature. The contemplative quality of his artwork extends a feeling of intimacy to the viewer, as we observe the result of his exploration of the people who inspire him and the animals that intrigue him. Reed experiments fearlessly with materials and continually welcomes new challenges. This is most evident in his three-dimensional works constructed with a variety of mediums. The resulting forms are at once brutal and elegant. Brian’s affinity for acquiring new skills extends to teaching. Reed is a member of the agency’s educator track, and shares art skills in a variety of settings. His work has recently been included in Perceptions of Flow: Formation at Evanston Art Center and Text(ure(al) guest curated by Matt Bodett. “It makes me happy because I like working with my hands. I like the way I use them. I like being with people while making art. I have so many friends from here.”
Tim Stone was born in Park Ridge in 1973, where he grew up living with his family. Over the years, Stone has created an expansive and cohesive body of work across media, including graphite, watercolor, and acrylic. For the past few years he has focused primarily on grayscale drawings of loose grids in graphite, with titles that hint at personal inspirations. Focused and methodical in his practice, he maintains a diligent studio routine and steadfast artistic vision informed by concepts of abstraction. Stone’s process is driven by labor-intensive, repetitive mark-making that burnishes the graphite and slowly wears away the surface of the paper over time. He’s also an active member of the curatorial committee, assisting guest curators with exhibitions at Circle Contemporary featuring studio artists alongside artists from the broader contemporary art community. “I start drawing squares with a B pencil. Then I keep drawing over them until they become glossy and thick. The B pencil helps the graphite become bolder and shinier, then some of it fades away.”