During the run of Extra Medium | John Muse, three single sheets of 8.5 x 11 paper were pasted to the walls just outside of the Cantor Fitzgerald Gallery. No warning, no other route of publication, just criticism found in the wild. Each writers here shares what they and their teachers, Lindsay Reckson and Jack Pryor, call “Loving Descriptions”—which is also the name of their joint project.
The first text:
John Muse // Extra Medium
Cantor Fitzgerald Gallery // September 8- October 13, 2023
Flashes of light, color, darkness. I walk slowly over to hidden corner. Scenes of chaos reveal itself. Colorful plastic shards hang delicately from wire. They dance as they rotate, their neon bodies casting dark shadows onto the blank canvas that is the wall. Their shadows pile onto the projected video, shining flashes of color that opposes the darkness.
Below the work, carpet. A barrier, cutting the room into two worlds. Studio opposing gallery. Paint splattered, markers strewn, paper scraps hidden behind polished works. The artist tells us about his process- how he draws inspiration from original shapes. He invites us into his world, handing us magazine cutouts, paper scraps—tactile tools that create his process. The other side of the room could not be more different. Polished, clean, professional.
Within the frames lies complexity. Layers upon layers, weaving in and out of each other, puzzling the brain. Next to the frames nothing. Unlabeled works challenging the viewer to think for themselves.
Crackle, crunch—sounds of layering fill the gallery from speakers overhead, paired with an archival viewing of process. The artist’s hands gently fitting scraps together, folding them in. turning them out. A performance of the process.
Extra Medium reaches its conclusion on October 11 with a performance—Everything Must Go! John Muse alongside the curator will give away every work in the show to members of the audience, painting a reality of non-market based art. In the meantime, the soft opposition of studio and gallery remains, chaos and creativity featured on both sides.
EN// September 28 2023 // @254 words
The second text:
John Muse// Extra Medium
Art Gallery, Haverford College
I was anxious, scared, and curious about this gallery. I walk in through the open doors and see a student worker inviting me to give my information and commit to the flood of emails associated with the museum. I had assumed this gallery contained only paintings, but I was wrong. I look up and staring at me is a video creation being projected onto a white temporary wall dividing the space in two. The video shared scraps of paper with purposeful cutouts being laid on top of each other. The holes in the paper allowed the audience to see what pieces came before. As a new paper was placed on top I felt my eyes drawn to the colors of paper furthest away, barley shining through.
I hear a voice that brings me back to the maker space classroom where I sat on a cold hard bench. John Muse was my professor for an exhibition class I took last [sic] two Springs ago. I realized this was John’s artwork, he was the curator. My former professor asked me to critique his work. The roles have been switched. I felt out of place and in an uncomfortable position to make a thoughtful and academic response. I played it safe and commented on his choice to not include any descriptions or name the pieces.
As I continue to learn more about his work I walk to the back half of the gallery, which is his workspace. We were invited to see all of the failures and misfits scattered across bulletin boards. Even though they didn’t get to be framed they still were a piece of John’s brain. A shape that didn’t fit anywhere yet. On his desk I see some that are a work in progress. Small cuts of paper delicately weaved and placed over each other to create a three dimensional effect. I thought about the tools used as if I could participate in this artform. He used an exacto knife. There was a jar of used, dull blades on the comer of his workspace. There were hundreds, each signifying a day’s worth of work and pain that created the show. I walk out calm and inspired in engage in my creative abilities.
AMB// September 29, 2023// @370 words
The third text:
Loving Description of The Art Gallery Extra Medium, John Muse
Curated by Homay King, Displayed at the Cantor Fitzgerald Gallery
You step into a small corner of a college’s mail building. An empty space where there is one sleep deprived college student doing homework at the front desk who tells you to leave your backpacks outside. The sound of chattering students chase your footsteps where you try to draw a meaningful connection to art that looks like squiggling lines. I asked what I could see in them; what was the art trying to express?
Further into the gallery is what they call the “studio.” Here, I felt the muscles at the bottom sides of my face begin to activate, creating what some might call a “faint smile.” Filled to the brim with cut-out shapes, a strange rotating sculpture of luminescent plastic bursting out of a bottle with a projector pointing through it to make a reflection on the wall, and various wires doing as they do. Some shapes appeared gourd-like, other’s legume-esk, and some even penile-relationed. The perfection that is chaos. My mother and I could could [sic] be labeled by the simpleminded word, “hoarder.” There is always something to look at, and yet, there is always something that you did not see. Each pass of this 10 by 4 foot room in a mail building revealed something new.
What followed next could only be described as a near death experience. I had gone back
to the front section of the gallery. In addition to an exposition of hung art, there was also a large projector playing a video with a bench situated between. Here, I sat. I watched. What I had failed to notice before, was that each piece, with their patchwork of lines, actually compiled many layers of cut and painted paper. Now came the danger; I asked myself, how many layers were there. Like a willfully ignorant child, I wanted to know how many licks it would take to get to the center of a tootsie pop. It was a thriller and a horror story combined. Each layer only revealed endless more. I could feel my leg bouncing, my back straining against the hunched over position, my bladder in need of a bathroom. All layer only hammering the question further into my head. How many layers? After centuries of my life had slipped away before my eyes—around fifteen minutes—I saw one final piece of paper. It was a pattern of strange red ink with a waxy texture one might find on a home decor magazine. It filled the entire screen. Was this the end? Pause. The world took a breath. A shape was placed on top of it. Then another. Then another. I soon left the gallery. It was weird. It was not beautiful. I enjoyed every second of it.
With love,
Nicky Rashkover
September 28, 2023, 3:19-3:54PM
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