FeaturIng terry chatkupt, MIchelle dIzon and caMIlo ontIveros

Never Very
Far Apart
curated by Ryan Inouye
Featuring Terry Chatkupt, Michelle Dizon
and Camilo Ontiveros, Jennifer Hayashida
and Benj Gerdes, Adriana Lara, Elana Mann,
RJ Messineo
April 29 – June 27, 2010
631 West 2nd Street, Los Angeles, California USA 90012
Visit www.redcat.org or call +1 213 237 2800 for more information
Gallery Hours: noon-6pm or intermission, closed Mondays
Never Very Far Apart
The exhibition Never Very Far Apart brings together
six projects that cross the poetic and political ground
between the individual and the group, the local and the
global, this moment in time and that place in history.
Proceeding from the particular conditions in which they
live and work, these artists explore distance as both
border and bridge—considering how a position may also
parallel or intersect with disparate places or distant
times. The exhibition’s title acknowledges a responsibility
to our immediate surroundings while suggesting that
the parameters, defining these relationships extend
farther than we can presently see, experience or articulate. As a constellation of works in performance, moving
image, painting and printed matter, the exhibition
considers what material ground emerges when moments
are thought together that usually stand apart.
The exhibition includes two collaborative projects, both
of which contemplate the possibility of revisioning the
relationship between the present and the past. As
individual artists and collaborators, Michelle Dizon and
Camilo Ontiveros opens questions of migration, citizenship and political resistance to a dialogue with history.
The artists’ video installation Westlake Theater (2008)
explores the many uses of this majestic, 1920s, cinema
house. Like many old theaters in Los Angeles, films were
presented here for decades, before the building closed
for renovations, and reopened as a swap meet.
In the work, a luminous view of the proscenium that once
presided over the early Hollywood now spans a thriving
swap meet on the orchestra level below. Audio samplings
from the space draw attention to activity on the ground
level, where vendors sell clothes, toys, food, and other
desirables, activating alternate, though equally rich,
experiences of cultural production and exchange. In
a move that parallels the theater’s re-ise (following
the heels of its dis-use), the work centers a part of Los
Angeles that isn’t usually remembered here.
Benj Gerdes and Jennifer Hayashida’s 16mm film
loop Populus Tremula (2010) is one work in an ongoing
project that draws upon research on the life of
Ivar Kreuger (1880-1932), the industrialist, financier
and founder of the Swedish Matchstick Corporation.
Pre-dating the multi-national conglomerates and behindthe-scene maneuverings of the current economic crisis,
Kreuger transformed his family’s matchstick business
by establishing large-scale production and distribution
facilities and raising capital to merge with or acquire
competing companies and those in related industries.
Between 1917–1932, Kreuger borrowed money at low
rates on U.S. markets and loaned these funds to national
governments to leverage market control. At the height
of his power, Kreuger stood at the helm of over 200
companies and setup matchstick monopolies in at least
34 countries.
Through contemporary footage shot in two Swedish
Match factories in operation since the 19th century,
Populus Tremula follows the manufacturing process,
which beyond the conversion to a fully-automated
system, has changed little over the past hundred years.
“In the film loop, a superimposed sequence of text
runs parallel to the moving image in time, though
disrupts the ideology of progress as asserted by narratives of industrialization, capitalism and the modern
day nation state.
Through artworks and larger discursive projects,
Elana Mann’s practice explores the theatrics of social
and political life through instances of interpersonal
exchange. Over the past few years, the artist’s performance-based works, in particular, have often explored
the body’s capacity to register systems of communication and control. Building upon these interests, the
performance video Can’t Afford the Freeway (2007-10)
grows out of shared conversations between the artist
and Captain Dylan Alex Mack. Revolving around the
tension of driving and being driven, the work intertwines
audio of Mack describing the perils of ground travel in
modern warfare with footage of the artist’s movementbased performance in and around the architecture of
her station wagon. In the work, the captain describes
driving as a vulnerable maneuver, while the artist
attempts to position and reposition herself in relation
to her car as a private space and personal freedom.
Through this lens, Can’t Afford the Freeway represents a
kind of labor in which the artist acknowledges participation in a system that she opposes. What appears to be
structured as a duet—an orderly back and forth between
Mack’s recollections and Mann’s performance—
ultimately excavates the compounded physical and
psychological terrain that stretches between the two.
Although working through a different vocabulary,
Adriana Lara’s practice also proceeds from a simple
though sincere desire to create conditions for dialogue.
Often with a playful touch, the artist challenges notions
of authorship and originality in art. These interests are
foregrounded in her involvement with Mexico City-based
art office Perros Negros, which she co-founded with
Agustina Ferreyra and Fernando Mesta. In addition to
working with the office to organize a number of largescale residency and exhibition projects, Lara also serves
as editor of its publication Pazmaker—a free, Spanish/
English, tri-fold poster/zine that gathers authors across
various places, times and disciplines.
In keeping with the office’s mission and Lara’s own penchant for idiosyncratic exchange, Pazmaker adapts its
physical and conceptual format from Pacemaker, a publication organized by the like-minded curatorial collective,
Toasting Agency, based in Paris. Conceived as both a
meeting point and means of distribution, the publication
facilitates ongoing exchange between cultural producers
in Mexico and those working abroad. For the first time,
Lara presents all eight Pazmakers published since 2006,
along with a new issue produced specifically for REDCAT.
With its presentation here, Lara uses Pazmaker 9 as a
platform to “edit” others into the show.”. In addition to
a handful of recently published texts, she also calls upon
new contributors and enlists the skills of designer Robert
Snowden for this issue.
sparsely populated landscapes, the artist’s adds voiceover
narrative, contemplating how his own personal recollections may resonate with other’s memories, walking a
line between the familiar and the foreign. The intimate
register of these videos explore what it means to be at
home, moving through the internal mechanisms that
underlie notions of belonging.
RJ Messineo’s practice as a painter stems from quiet and
continual acknowledgment of her immediate surroundings. As of late, the artist has worked with materials
likely to be found around the house, in the back of a
garage or a neglected yard. By using mirror, window
screen and wooden lattice in recent works, Messineo
throws into relief the contingency of the painting’s
surface and the limits of its frame. Working in and
against the potentials and problems of painting, the artist
explores a method of working that raises fundamental
questions about looking and legibility. As Messineo
explains: “I have been thinking about the construction
of a resemblance as way to make a painting, because
it points to the impossibility of representation and the
inherent loss within every attempt, without giving up on
the act of trying to communicate some kind of truth of
experience… [It] is not so much a pursuit of what it is
we are looking at, but how it looks and the messy models
by which we make meaning from this how.” Messineo’s
new works on wooden lattice, Shield Painting (garden)
(2010) and Concept of Yearning (2010), continues to
bridge elements of her personal life within a language
that has a public presence.
Ryan Inouye
Curatorial Assistant
REDCAT
Shifting from public dialogue to personal narrative,
Terry Chatkupt’s trilogy of videos—Trail Memories
(2008), Field Memories (2009) and Park Memories
(2010)—navigates visual and psychological passageways
through open fields and wooded expanses just outside
places the artist has called home. Within each work,
Chatkupt adds layers to his original video sequences
by incorporating found footage and photographs—the
kind one might find in a family photo album or salvage
from the an old antique store. To the backdrop of these
Michelle Dizon and Camilo Ontiveros, Westlake Theater (still), 2008, video installation, sound,
21 min., courtesy the artist.
Terry Chatkupt, Field Memories (still), 2009-10, single-channel HD video with sound,
4:55 min., narrated by Jane Pickett, courtesy the artist.
Jennifer Hayashida and Benj Gerdes, Populus Tremula (still), 2010, Laser subtitled
16mm film, 9 min., courtesy the artists.
Elana Mann, Can’t Afford the Freeway (still), 2007–10, HD video projection and 2002
Subaru Legacy Outback seats, sound, 15 min. Kristen Smiarowski, Choreographer
Laura Bouza, Director of Photography, courtesy the artist.
Pazmaker Issues 2–4, text, 23-1/2 x 16-1/2 in. (60 x 42 cm.) poster, edited by Adriana Lara /
Perros Negros, ongoing project since 2006, courtesy the artist.
RJ Messineo, Concept of Yearning (detail), 2010, 48 x 97-1/2 x 3 in.,
paint on wooden lattice, courtesy the artist.
Memories Trilogy
Voiceover transcript from Field Memories (2007) by Terry Chatkupt
Can’t Afford the Freeway
Text by Elana Mann with Dylan Alexander Mack
Trail Memories (2007)
After moving to Los Angeles I was interested in connecting
and disrupting my experience as a Southern Californian
driver with the site of modern physical warfare: the road. In
2007 I began seeking out individuals with whom I
could explore the topic of war and driving which included
a soldier in Iraq, two Iraqi artists and various commuters in
Los Angeles. Through my search I also met Captain Dylan
Alexander Mack (Alex), an Iraq war veteran, who was
able to articulate his own experience of driving as a soldier
and a veteran in a remarkable way. The recorded discussions I had with Alex allowed me to encounter a political
and emotional space that was foreign to me and still
remains unimaginable.
NARRATOR
It’s a funny place here where I grew up. All of the flat land,
farms, and big clouds. Lots of space and that’s probably
why I’ve always felt lonely living here. I had friends though.
We had a little gang of our own. There were mainly four
of us. We all lived in different parts of town, but there was
this main trail that we could walk on get to each other’s
houses. During the summer we would walk on it a lot, you
know, without a destination but just for something to do
and somewhere to go.
Back in junior high, the trail seemed like it went forever
but it was probably only a mile or two tops. It’s a funny
place here. Not much to do but mess around with your
friends and try not to get into trouble. Sometimes we would
trespass on other people’s property and see if there was
anything worth stealing. Other times we would follow
the trail to the power lines and just sit there listening to
their buzzing sound. But one time we were walking along
the trail and someone thought it was a good idea to light
something on fire. We didn’t have any matches or a lighter.
In fact, we didn’t start smoking until high school. Anyway,
one of us had a magnifying glass, you know those little ones
that can fit in your pocket? Well, we were out on the trail
one day using the magnifying glass with the sun to burn
up insects. It wasn’t before too long that a pile of leaves
or sticks begin burning and, of course, we let it get out of
hand. Miraculously, we managed to put the fire out because
the lake was nearby. In fact, the trail leads down to another
trail that goes around the lake and it was fun to walk on
at night. Every Halloween we would go out there and
walk the thing without flashlights just to see if we can do
it without pissing our pants. It was scary as hell though. I
remember walking the entire trail with the hair on my neck
sticking straight up. I swear we weren’t alone out there at
night. Something was following us or watching us and till
this day I sometimes get scared thinking about it.
In the wintertime, the lake would freeze over and man, was
it beautiful. Dead trees and gray skies, you couldn’t get
more dramatic than that. And like that little forest fire we
created, we were pretty dumb when it came to the frozen
lake. One of us had the great idea of seeing how far out
we could walk on the ice before getting scared and turning
back. So all of us crunched on the snow on top of the lake
and walked slowly out in different directions. It only took
a couple steps until we heard that terrifying sound and ran
back.
The time I can remember the most about the trail is when
we followed it to this little creek. Someone said that you
can find crawdads there and we wanted to catch a bunch
to torture and then eat. We were looking for a long time,
and we didn’t find any so we decided to give up. We did,
however, find a great porno magazine. One of the first ones
I’ve ever seen. After flipping through it and being grossed
out, one of us took a match - this time we had matches and started to burn the magazine up. It didn’t burn that
long before I started stomping it out with my foot. After I
put the fire out, my friends got pissed off and asked why I
did that. I told them it was because I didn’t want to start
another forest fire, but actually my plan was to go back
for the magazine by myself and take it home to enjoy. That
never happened though. I went back a few days later and it
was already gone. I guess somebody else had the same idea.
One of the last memories I have of walking that trail was
when one of us had a birthday party. It was a sleepover
and we went out and did our thing on the trail and then
came back to my friend’s house to watch scary movies and
shit. We fell asleep in front of the TV and when I woke
up everybody was already awake. I opened my eyes and
everyone was looking at me—kind of staring at my face
and I didn’t know why. Finally, someone started cracking
up laughing and so I ran to the bathroom and saw that they
had drawn all over my face with a permanent marker. I got
so upset that I grabbed my things and ran out of my friend’s
house and walked the trail early in the morning by myself
all the way back to my place.
I worked with the initial recordings I made with Alex
for a number of years—listening and re-listening to
them—and last fall I returned to interview him a few more
times. Eventually I decided to structure a video around
the desire to understand my conversations with Alex and
how the objects and locations of my everyday life are
acutely implicated in what he talks about. In Can’t Afford
the Freeway, I fold and unfold my conversation with Alex
into other conversations I am having with my Subaru
Legacy Outback, my video camera and the cities of Los
Angeles, Valencia and Irwindale. Throughout the video I
am constantly shifting physical and psychological positions,
locations, and the camera lens. These movements mirror my
attempts to deeply listen, absorb and connect my conversations with Alex to myself and my surroundings.
When I first approached Alex to make recordings with
me about war and driving he was interested in the project
as a way to work out his own thoughts about the subject
for a novel based on his war experience. While serving as
an infantry officer in Mosul, Iraq, Alex started writing
emails to a small list of family and friends about what he
was experiencing. The emails profoundly connected with
people and were eventually mass distributed around the
country. After he returned home, Alex decided to transform
his email dairy into a fictional novel. Having never formally
studied writing Alex enrolled as a Master of Fine Arts
candidate in the Critical Studies program at California
Institute of the Arts (CalArts). He was a student at CalArts
when we first met.
That began our symbiotic relationship. Through our
interactions, Alex and I were both able to grow in our own
individual direction and use our conversations to spurn
different yet intertwined creative output.
The following excerpt from one of the discussions in 2009
that is not included in the video, but one that shifted
the paradigm for me in regards to how a veteran might
continue to experiences the emotional effects of war long
after s/he returns home.
Alex: OK, if you want my opinion on why this happens.
Elana: OK
Elana: Yeah.
Alex: It could be a beautiful day and they could be feeling
like crap because they hear about violence. So when you
get home, you have hidden resentment. Your family secretly
resents you, but they don’t admit it, they don’t know that
they resent you for the last year of worry that you put
them through. You have resentment towards them because
they’re supposed to be the ones closest to you, they’re
supposed to be understanding what you are feeling, and
they’re not. And when death is your currency you don’t
really know how to express yourself in other ways, you
get pissed off and things compound on you and things get
contorted in your head. Those closest to you, and it’s truly
the ones that are closest to you get turned into the enemy,
because they are causing you all this pain, because they are
not providing you the comfort that you want.
Alex: I have sort of a decent opinion on it. So you go to war,
you lose people, you lose people and you see things. And
that wears on you. But you don’t let it wear on you. You’re
harboring all this, but you don’t realize you are harboring a
lot of pain. In my case probably about twenty guys I knew
died. I don’t know that I am dealing with the loss of twenty
guys. When you come home you’re looking for your family,
or those closest to you, to console you. But you don’t know
that that’s what you are looking for cause you haven’t
figured it out yet. You have these huge expectations for your
family when you get home. On the flip side, your family,
or whoever’s closest to you, they have hidden resentment
towards you but they don’t realize that they resent you and
the reason why is–
Elana: Because you’ve been gone.
Alex: Because they care about you and because they could
be having, you know, Southern California it could be a
beautiful day…
Like I said, I’ve always felt lonely here. But I still like to
call it home.cal spherical tanks external to the pressure
vessel and in two pairs shielded by insulated covers.
top/left to bottom
Terry Chatkupt, Trail Memories (still), 2007, single-channel digital video with sound,
5:26 min., narrated by John Harding, courtesy the artist.
Terry Chatkupt, Field Memories (still), 2009-10, single-channel HD video with sound,
4:55 min., narrated by Jane Pickett, courtesy the artist.
Terry Chatkupt, Park Memories (still), 2010, single-channel HD video with sound,
7 min., narrated by Grendal Hanks and Tina Vardanyan, courtesy the artist.
Terry Chatkupt, Park Memories (still), 2010, single-channel HD video with sound,
7 min., narrated by Grendal Hanks and Tina Vardanyan, courtesy the artist.
Terry Chatkupt, Park Memories (still), 2010, single-channel HD video with sound,
7 min., narrated by Grendal Hanks and Tina Vardanyan, courtesy the artist.
Terry Chatkupt, Field Memories (still), 2009-10, single-channel HD video with sound,
4:55 min., narrated by Jane Pickett, courtesy the artist.
Elana Mann, Can’t Afford the Freeway (still), 2007–10, HD video projection and 2002
Subaru Legacy Outback seats, sound, 15 min. Kristen Smiarowski, Choreographer
Laura Bouza, Director of Photography, courtesy the artist.
Westlake Theater
Text by Michelle Dizon and Camilo Ontiveros
In Westlake Theater (2008) the scene is viewed from the theater’s projection booth. The view
is unmoving and shows both the painted procenium and the marketplace below. Mexican and
Salvadoran flags hang prominently in the foreground and strains of Recuerdo and different
Spanish language radio stations of Los Angeles echo in the space. The affect of this sound
foreshadows the erasure of this scene. In 2008, the Westlake Theater was bought by the Community Redevelopment Agency, an entity financed through the property taxes of the city of Los
Angeles. Their plan is to create an entertainment center in which the Westlake theater would
be “restored” to its original state along with the development of “affordable housing units”
and a parking garage. The Community Redevelopment Agency operates under a discourse
of development and community renewal whose intertwining with the processes of capitalism,
immigration, and racialization must be pressed if the political implications of this transition are
to be understood.
The Westlake Theater was built in 1926 and showed first-run movies for the affluent
neighborhoods that once surrounded this area of Los Angeles. With the influx of Central
American immigrants to the area in the 1980’s, the Westlake Theater began showing Spanish
language movies. At this same time, Mac Arthur Park was becoming notorious for both its
gang and police violence with the two caught in struggle for power and with those living in
the community shuttled in between. The Westlake Theater closed in 1991. Concrete was
poured on top of the orchestra pit and a swap meet opened on this newly created floor soon
after. The vestiges of Spanish Rococo architecture became layered with the wares of the
marketplace—the coiled columns, painted cherubs, and ornate fixtures of the theater became
the backdrop for the particle board stalls and the Spanish speaking immigrant community
that would buy and sell there.
The co-existence of these historical and political layers at the Westlake Theater illuminate the
global processes have produced the transformation of this space. The migration of populations from Central America to Mac Arthur Park is bound with US intervention in the region.
Such interventions started wars, supported military regimes, trained paramilitary operatives,
encouraged the drug trade, crippled democracy, and have made life impossible for people who
come from these countries. When thought alongside the economic liberalization made possible through the North American Free Trade Agreement, it becomes clear that the influx of
immigrants to the United States from Latin America is linked with the political and economic
policies engineered by the United States. Given the active role the United States has taken in
creating such violence, and given the dependence of this country on a vulnerable immigrant
labor force, how is it possible for the criminalization of immigrants to continue?
The question of immigration policy and immigrant rights is inseparable from any discussion
of Mac Arthur Park. Directly in front of the Westlake Theater is the park itself, where some
of the most visible displays of solidarity among immigrant communities have taken place. In
2006, approximately 500,000 people marched in the streets of Los Angeles and gathered in
Mac Arthur Park to protest H.R. 4437 and the criminalization of immigrants in the United
States. Such shows of solidarity and political agency would be quelled one year later when at
the same site an immigrant rights protest was violently repressed as police shot rubber bullets
at thousands of peaceful protesters.
Our interest in the Westlake Theater lies not in a restoration of its architecture, but rather in its
ruins. The theater’s repurposing by the immigrant community provides a glimpse of a palimpsest in which the co-existence of past and present reveals culture as historically dynamic. In the
Westlake stood a rare instance in which this transformation was not erased but rather shown
for what it is—as the ruins of one space and the life of another. As we pass into an era of the
rapid development of this area, we have to ask for whom and on whose terms such development is being realized. The discourse of development is one that applies not only to processes
of local gentrification but also to global discourses of the World Bank and imf. On the margins
of all these discourses of development lie the people who inhabit these formerly colonized
locales, shuttled in the impossibility of contemporary globalization. Westlake Theater suspends
a moment of transition and is an invitation to consider the affect that fills its process of erasure.
Michelle Dizon and Camilo Ontiveros, production documentation for Westlake Theater,
2008, video installation, sound, 21 min., courtesy the artist.
Populus Tremula
Contributions by Jennifer Hayashida and Benj Gerdes
Jennifer Hayashida
“It Is the Hungry Who Hunt the Best”:
The Language of a Neocolonial Welfare State
A few years ago, I attended a translation conference in
Stockholm. The theme of the conference was so-called
“Third World” literatures and the event was intended to
emphasize the value of translation in relation to global
human rights. Clitoridectomies, Burkhas, and the methods
of the Egyptian secret police were problems to be addressed
in the halls of the City Conference Centre, and eventually
through a conference resolution.
During the opening session, one of the organizers stated
that Sweden was an ideal site for such a conference, given
that nation’s absence of a history of colonization or empire.
Upon hearing her words, I looked around the room to
see if anyone else appeared to find this statement not only
problematic, but simply fallacious; however, I spotted no
looks of dismay or disagreement. No one, it seemed, cared
to remember “stormaktstiden” and Sweden’s 17th century
rule over Finland, parts of Norway, or Poland, nor did
they care to recall short-lived (but indisputably Swedish)
colonies in Tobago, Guadeloupe, or the so-called Swedish
Gold Coast in Africa. For the next three days, I repeatedly
overheard and witnessed similarly self-congratulatory
language and gestures.
I knew that the Swedish state’s sense of “First World”
responsibility to the global subaltern was alive and
well – welfare imperialism – yet I had not heard or seen
it interpreted so aggressively as to be transformed into a
kind of national tabula rasa, wherein a history of cowardly
political rubber-necking (wwii) and neocolonial projects
were suddenly characterized as ethical and/or nonexistent.
My frustration with the discussions at the conference
dovetailed neatly with the materials that my partner and I
discovered during that summer in Stockholm, when we first
initiated our archival research into the “Match King” Ivar
Kreuger and Svenska Tändsticksaktiebolaget (stab or the
Swedish Matchstick Corporation). In addition to our work
around Kreuger and national mythmaking, we became
increasingly interested in the global mechanics of Kreuger’s
vertical manufacturing and Swedish neocolonialism.
We found photographs of Swedish aspen trees being
unloaded near factories in Calcutta, having been shipped
halfway around the world due to the belief that the Swedish
timber was superior to any other, as well as Kreuger’s
ownership of Sweden’s largest timber and pulp corporation. We found a leather-bound and gold-trimmed photo
album, given to Kreuger on his 50th birthday by stab:s
Indian employees, filled with a carefully curated selection
of photographs depicting the Indian employees efficiently
at work or enjoying the tidy living conditions of stab
employee housing. The photographs were taken in the mid1920s, a time marked by Mahatma Gandhi’s leadership
of the Indian National Congress and movements towards
national independence—none of this is mentioned in the
stab archive, of course.
As with many colonial, neocolonial, and/or neoliberal
narratives, the welfare of the subaltern is frequently characterized as what is at stake for the intervening national or
corporate interest, and what we found in the stab archives
was no different. Corporate efficiency or expense is hidden
behind concern for foreign national economies and subjects.
The article below, from 1972, was retrieved from Sigtunastiftelsen, a Christian foundation that operates one of
Sweden’s largest press archives, and the text’s significance
lies in the ideological paradoxes of the two parties
involved. Sven Wallgren, representing stab, claims that the
corporation’s actions are imbued with mindful benevolence
wherein the corporation, in close consultation with the
Indian state, attends to the needs of the national economy
and its subjects. Marian Radetzki, apparently representing
a scholarly perspective, writes that only the elite benefits
from such interventions, and that the people of India
(typically characterized as innumerable) would be better
off if encouraged to develop their own domestic—and
manual—production of matchsticks.
Radetzki’s insistence on manual production as a social and
economic curative is fascinating: at odds with the desired
trajectory for first world nations’ industrialization, wherein
automation, efficiency, and the removal of the human
are seen as ideal outcomes, his perspective is that, for the
“underdeveloped” nation, manual production can lead
to a thin layer of employment for many, as opposed to a
concentration of employment for the few. Efficiency is for
colder regions, it seems, whereas the handmade remains
suitable for warmer climes.
The more one learns about Radetzki, the more unsettled
one is. Born 1936 in Warsaw, Poland, he is Professor of
Economics at Luleå University of Technology. His work
focuses primarily on the economics of raw materials, in
particular minerals, metals, and energy, and he has worked
as a consultant for a number of multinationals, foreign
governments, and the World Bank and undp. Some of
his notable, but not unusual, opinions concern national
identity and economics, such as his desire to see English
be the national language of Sweden, and his belief that
organized labor is the primary obstacle to the nation’s
social or economic progress.
However, what has made him a lightning rod for the
Swedish Left is that he advocates cutting low-wage
workers’ salaries in half in order to incentivize individual
uplift and self-suffiency, thereby combating high rates of
unemployment and chronic dependence on social welfare.
In Radetzki’s words, “It is the hungry who hunt the best,”
and he points to the United States as a generative model for
this type of bootstrapping national ideology. For a riveting
interview with Radetzki (and if you speak Swedish) please
watch “Increase the Gaps to Decrease Unemployment,”
available online through Sveriges Television, the public
national broadcasting system: svt.se.
At the time of the publication of this exchange in Dagens
Nyheter, one of Sweden’s two large daily newspapers,
Radetzki had only recently completed his Doctorate at the
Stockholm School of Economics and was employed as chief
economics at cipec, the international copper cartel. The
translation is my own.
STAB in India
Dagens Nyheter, September 9, 1972
The Swedish Matchstick Corporations polemicizes against
Marian Radetzki’s statement that their companies in India
did not introduce new products or jobs to the country.
Radetzki, who based his statement on a paper by Klas
Markensten , replies.
IN MARIAN RADETZKI’S interesting article, published
in DN 8/26, titled “Swedish Corporations Abroad,” two
statements are made which from the very beginning are
plainly incorrect and therefore misleading for readers. He
states:
1) “The Swedish companies in India do not appear to
have brought with them any new products or technology,
rather they have hampered any domestic expansion.”
2) “And the old Swedish matchstick imperialism instead
appears to have prevented rather than created new employment opportunities…”
REPLY
MY TWO arguments, here addressed by stab, are based on
information found in Klas Markensten’s scientific paper on
Swedish corporate activity in India. I have found no reason
to question either these or other facts that Markensten uses
to support his analysis.
No one wants to deny that stab and the other Swedish
companies’ production in India has replaced earlier
importation. The argument that Swedish corporate activity
failed to introduce any substantial new products or technologies is based on the fact that similar production was
already taking place in India when the Swedish companies
established themselves there. The Swedish business enabled
a (possibly more rapid) expansion of such production, but
did not really bring anything new to India.
10,000 employed by stab signifies an important source
of income for perhaps 75,000 Indians. But it is necessary
to also look to the alternative increase in labor activity
that the currently self-supporting and competitive manual
manufacturing of matches could offer several hundreds of
thousands of workers, if only mechanized manufacturing,
underwritten by powerful international capital interests,
was contained or discontinued. From this perspective, it
is in my opinion entirely correct to see stab:s matchstick
manufacturing as a brake on India’s employment rates.
In my article, I write that the Swedish companies have
behaved as exemplary Indian legal entities. In cooperation
with the host country’s government they have contributed
to an impressive expansion of the country’s modern sector.
The problem is just that this development has essentially
only benefited the elite minority of the country’s population.
Large sectors of the population among India’s poor have
during the 60’s seen an absolute decrease in their standards
of consumption.
I do not believe that continued development according to
this pattern will remain politically sustainable much longer
in India, Pakistan, Brazil, or the other developing nations
which host Swedish investments. Soon enough the development strategy will demand public and private contributions
which in a completely different manner than now benefit
larger segments of the population. Foreign investors will
undoubtedly experience considerable difficulty, if they
before then have not reconsidered and developed technologies and products that to a greater degree than today
increase employment, consumption, and welfare also for
that majority which is currently largely excluded from the
modern sector’s excesses.
MARIAN RADETZKI
The actual conditions are such that aside from stab:s
co-ownership (the other half is owned by a large number of
Indian investors) in matchstick factories, stab has contributed the following new import-substituting industries:
1) Papermill (Calcutta)
2) Chlorate and glue factory (Ambarnath)
3) Extraction of common salt from seawater (on the east
coast south of Madras)
4) Manufacturing industry (matchstick machinery and
processing equipment to the food industry, etc.) in Poona.
Image from STAB Corporate Archive, Landsarkivet, Vadstena, Sweden
Populus Tremula is a 16mm film loop originating from
artistic research into Swedish “Match King” Ivar Kreuger
(1880­–1932), whom The Economist in 2007 called “the
world’s greatest financial swindler” and who was the
founder of Svenska Tändsticksaktiebolaget (the Swedish
Matchstick Corporation), today called Swedish Match.
Between 1917 and 1932, Kreuger capitalized on shifts in
global financial markets to control over 200 companies and
establish matchstick monopolies in at least 34 countries; he
borrowed money at low rates on U.S. markets and in turn
loaned these funds to countries that granted him market
monopolies, thereby initiating, according to some scholars,
practices currently enacted by the imf and wto. Populus
Tremula consists of contemporary footage shot in two
extant Swedish Match factories in Vetlanda and Tidaholm,
Sweden. Both factory locations have been active since the
19th century, and while the manufacturing process is now
almost fully automated, beyond the removal of human
labor, it has changed little since the early 20th century.
While the film follows the linear progression of match
manufacture from timber to shrink-wrapped package ready
for export, a series of superimposed textual interventions
point to the ability of both capital and the nation-state to
legislate and assert the monopoly capitalist’s desire, as in
the case of Kreuger, to not only exploit natural resources
but to appear to surpass the power of nature through myth.
The conjoining of text and image is here intended to posit
conflicting historical and ideological conjectures in an effort
to indicate ideological fissures which in turn may spark, or
tremble, present-day possibilities for contestation.
All in all, we currently employ approximately 10,000
workers and salaried employees, six of whom are
Scandinavian.
All these projects have been developed in close consultation
with the Indian government. The Swedish Matchstick
Corporation has for many years reinvested profits in new
manufacturing tailored to the country’s needs. In short: the
profits from stab:s Indian operations essentially stay in that
country.
The extremely important question of if a country like India
should create additional manual manufacturing or a more
mechanized industry is one that we have lived with for
decades. stab:s politics regarding new development follows
the Indian government’s demands for modern production technology. One must not forget that alongside the
uneducated millions who today do not have any occupation
and who naturally make up the main problem for the
Indian government, are also demands that the country’s
own educated industrial intelligentsia shall be employed in
leading positions, and themselves contribute to the country’s development. This is the case for all of the Swedish
Matchstick Corporation’s enterprises in India. Only when
domestic expertise is missing does stab send employees
from other countries. This policy is one that the company
itself has actively participated in during past decades, and if
possible, it is one that we intend to continue.
SVEN WALLGREN
Director, Matchstick Division
1
Markensten is currently Senior Advisor to the Director
General at sida, the Swedish International Development
Cooperation Agency, www.sida.org. His professional life appears
to be rooted in international development and aid.
Jennifer Hayashida and Benj Gerdes, Populus Tremula (still), 2010, Laser subtitled
16mm film, 9 min., courtesy the artists.
Shield Painting (garden) & Concept of Yearning
Text by RJ Messineo
Pazmaker
Interview with Adriana Lara
As part of her involvement with the Mexico City-based
art office Perros Negros, Adriana Lara serves as editor of
Pazmaker, a free, self-distributed, quarterly poster/zine
with texts published in Spanish and English. The exhibition
marks the first presentation of all eight issues printed since
2006 in addition to the latest edition produced specifically
for redcat. On this occasion, Lara discusses the publication’s beginnings and the ideas that inform and propel this
still evolving project.
Ryan Inouye
Let’s set the stage. The Pazmaker story begins in Paris. Can
you describe the circumstances that led to the publication?
Adriana Lara
The decision to start a new publication had a great deal to
do with how I empathized with the original Paris-based
Toasting Agency project called Pacemaker. I remember
accidentally encountering a stack of them in some Paris
gallery, and I began thinking about how Mexico needed
something like it (or not). What I liked about Pacemaker,
the original version of Pazmaker, was that it focused on
text. In (2002) there were few art magazines like it. Most
were working in a general style that conceived of artwork
as an image or object. I was interested in publishing texts
that were works themselves—and not texts that were about
artworks or exhibitions. My interest in “pirating” the
Pacemaker format explored the possibility of arranging
texts like collage, working with a combination of authors
and formats—commissioned essays, reprints of old texts,
artist writings, as well as paper text-based artworks—
which together could be more than a journalistic platform.
The Pacemaker format was great, because it provided space
to show art—not reproduce or review it.
Abstractly speaking, I conceived of Pazmaker as an imaginary exhibition space, where works could be put together
with no particular order, hierarchy or pre-established
theme—creating a snapshot/document of what was happening at the moment in different countries, in Mexico City,
within Perros Negros and between contributing artists and
writers. But as Toasting Agency used to say, it has mostly
functioned as a passageway into each contributor’s worlds.
ri
The very first issue edited and printed by Perros Negros
was titled Pazmaker 0. Why and how was it distinguished
from Pazmaker 1?
al
Once I decided to pirate the model of my favorite magazine,
I decided it could be fun as a statement to pirate it properly,
meaning to Xerox it or copy it the way movies are pirated
in Mexico. Here you can find dvds that sell in the streets
for 300% less than the original price. I made my own pirate
editors’ version by selecting texts from the 11 Pacemaker
issues and pasting these texts together in one place, only
leaving room for a couple new contributions and translations. That was number 0, the “first” Pazmaker. I think
of the issues that followed, Pazmakers 1–8, as region 4
Pacemakers, referring to the dvd region code that is used
for videos sold in Mexico. Playfully speaking, it’s a cheap,
“third world” version of the sophisticated original.
ri
But whereas region codes are used to control aspects of a
film’s distribution—including its content, release date and
price—based on geographic location, Pazmaker seems to
facilitate the flow and exchange of ideas. The publication
features contributions in Spanish and English, is selfdistributed through personal and professional networks
and is offered free to the public. Even though you assemble
each issue from the Perros Negros office in Mexico City, the
publication strives to be accessible to many different people
and places. How did these concerns play into the creation
of Pazmaker 1, the first issue that was edited “in house?”
al
It was a very spontaneous and rather personal selection
of people. As much as I try to respond to my locality with
each issue, it is not in the interest of Perros Negros for
Pazmaker to represent its locality. What I mean is, we want
to move away from a direct engagement with national
identity and instead explore a shared desire to live and
work from a self-created position. Sometimes this involves
collaborating or making associations among authors/texts
even though they might be located at opposite ends of the
world. It is through this subjective process that I collected
the contributions for Issue 1. I should also mention that
with this issue also began my research on artists that had
a writing practice—whether they be essays, manifestos,
dialogues, scripts, cartoons or signs. I think of these works
as philosophical or anecdotic writings in process, as a kind
of “thinking out-loud” that can be linked to known or
unknown texts, or that might continue conversations with
work I see around me.
ri
Pazmaker seems to provide a platform for conversation
in much the same way that the Perros Negros project
Localismos (2004) brought together artists based in Mexico
and abroad for a month long residency and workshop. Can
you talk about how this larger project has informed your
ongoing work with the publication?
al
Localismos (the first in a series of large-scale projects
along with Otra de vaqueros and La Galeria Sentimental)
assembled 20 artists that came to live and use the city as
a center for production. Almost half of the artists created
publications like posters, flyers, newspapers, stickers, etc.
Even though the projects were presented in different spaces,
we had a house that served as a presentation center, in which
we displayed the documentation from all the projects and
performances. Localismos generated an idiosyncratic mix of
aesthetics and subjects of interest around art and other things
that seemed to fit well together. We were criticized for the
lack of clear selection criteria, but the fact was, we only felt
comfortable inviting artists whose practice we could engage
in a collective conversation, which in turn, made us think
they would want to work with each other as well.
With Pazmaker, I keep working like this, imagining the
possibility of shared conversation among a group of
contributors, without any set criteria. I think of a range of
associations that can take place among them for different
reasons. I look at most issues, and think that in no other
publication would these names be brought together in the
same list. It’s like making a party.
ri
So it sounds like you have used Pazmaker as an opportunity
to reach out or make contact with people you haven’t met
in person?
Being More
ri
Pazmaker 7 takes a different format. Can you talk about
how it came about and how this change affected the content
that was contributed?
These works have a great deal to do with my being in
St. Louis for a while now and and sensing, incorporating
and responding to an energetics of the place. Since moving
from Los Angeles, it has taken time to start making
work that relates to this place. I am interested in what
happens when I look at the same places and structures and
details on a daily basis. What happens when something
goes from being new to being familiar.
al
Pazmaker 7 was also called Pazmaker Audiozine. I wanted
to do an audio version of PM. I really enjoy audio books,
especially in boring moments like when I’m at the gym. So
I thought of making a Pazmaker: with no design involved,
no fonts, much more space, spoken language, and perhaps
a cheaper format (which was not the case!). As with every
issue, there was no predetermined subject. I just invited
artists whom I thought would be interested in recording
readings of their texts. What happened, instead, was that
the people I invited sent ready made material that somehow
included text. They became contributing editors: Carolina
Caycedo sent a playlist of songs with lyrics about Exile
(salsa, hip hop, folk); Cristian Manzutto, an audio producer,
sent me remixed material he had sampled from past
projects like a recording made with Hans Ulrich Obrist and
Sylver Lotringer as well as a selection of Godard trailers
that were mostly text; Angel Nevarez and Valerie Tevere
were working on this music project Another protest song,
so I asked them to send me 2 tracks. The format opened a
host of other opportunities. I also thought this issue could
be a place to present audio tracks from artist films. Some
artists and writers did submit recordings specifically made
for the issue but not many. In the end, I also included
audio recordings without texts, akin to the complementary
images typically included in the printed version, selected by
Allora & Calzadilla.
These lattice paintings began with this gazebo located in a
neighbor’s yard. In winter, especially, it stands in front of the
house with a certain starkness. A number of wind chimes
and wooden birds are in various stages of aging and decay.
Green moss and mold inhabits the grain of the lattice’s
wooden slats, which I often admire from the sidewalk. I
have wanted to work with lattice for a while because it
functions as a screen that masks from view some quiet of a
domestic space. It provides protection if however flimsy.
I find it hard to identify the proper tone in which to write
to you about this work. Or rather it is hard to find the
right tone of voice to address an (imagined) audience to
these pieces. Much of my process in making paintings
is about finding the “right” tone. It’s a fine line between,
a process of calibration.
ri
What do you have planned for the latest issue of Pazmaker
that you are working on for the exhibition at redcat?
al
Last year I worked on an issue focused on Latin American
artists, as an exercise of language more than geography. The
result was a hybrid like the rest of the issues (still a lot of
English), but this focus on Spanish texts took the magazine
into a completely different style that was more prose-based.
There were a lot more essays and pieces of fiction. Not all the
artists where Latin—some just happened to be living here.
For a number of reasons, I was unable to print it, and so I
put the project on pause. When I was presented with the
opportunity to make a new issue, I thought it was a good
time to survey all the past issues in order to think about new
content, methods and objectives for future publications.
Issue #9 is called The Best Of (y lo peor), which does not
necessarily include my favorite texts, but rather those that
I most closely identify with today. I have also added new
contributions from people I’ve encountered in these past
few months, who in my mind, somehow can picture where
Perros Negros is mentally or physically at the moment.
al
There is the intention to start a dialogue with the people
whose work we like. For Perros Negros, the idea of
migrating or traveling to where the art world “happens”
wasn’t as exciting as staying in Mexico Shitty and
bringing people to us. Pazmaker was one way of inviting
people “here.”
ri
In many issues, you work with artists the art world might
call “emerging.” Is part of your interest in Pazmaker to
facilitate dialogue amongst artists of a generation?
al
I think Pazmaker provides a great excuse for artists to
promote specific projects or just be themselves without
a particular goal or agenda. It’s important for artists to
be able to read about other artists and ideas without an
intermediary like a curator or an art critic.
Pazmaker Issues 0–8, text, 23-1/2 x 16-1/2 in. (60 x 42 cm.) poster, edited by
Adriana Lara / Perros Negros, ongoing project since 2006, courtesy the artist.
RJ Messineo, Shield Painting (garden), 2010, 70-1/2 x 62 x 1-1/4 in.,
paint on wooden lattice, courtesy the artist.
Adriana Lara, Pazmaker Live Logo, 2010, clock, metal, plastic, acrylic paint, 10-1/2 x
10-1/2 (27 x 27 cm), courtesy the artist.
RJ Messineo, Concept of Yearning, 2010, 48 x 97-1/2 x 3 in.,
paint on wooden lattice, courtesy the artist.
RJ Messineo, Fine, gold lamé and wood, 18 x 12 in., courtesy the artist.
RJ Messineo, Concept of Yearning (detail), 2010, 48 x 97-1/2 x 3 in.,
paint on wooden lattice, courtesy the artist.
Exhibition Checklist
About the Artists
Terry Chatkupt
Trail Memories, 2007
single-channel digital video with sound, 5:26 min.
narrated by John Harding
Courtesy the artist
Terry Chatkupt
(b. 1977, Excelsior Springs, Missouri)
Terry Chatkupt primarily works in film/video and photography. He
has presented work in exhibitions at Seattle Art Museum, Seattle;
Harris Lieberman, New York, Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions,
Los Angeles and the Sweeney Art Gallery, University of California,
Riverside in addition to participating in screenings at The Museum
of Modern Art, New York; Portland Documentary & experimental
Film Festival 2008 and Art Basel Miami Beach, Video Lounge, 2007.
Chatkupt received both his B.F.A. and M.F.A. from California Institute
of the Arts, Valencia and holds a B.S. from Skidmore College, Saratoga Springs, New York. In 2003, he attended the artist in residency
program at Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture. Chatkupt
currently lives and works in Los Angeles. terrychatkupt.com
Field Memories, 2009-10
single-channel HD video with sound, 4:55 min.
narrated by Jane Pickett
Courtesy the artist
Park Memories, 2010
single-channel HD video with sound, 7 min.
narrated by Grendal Hanks and Tina Vardanyan
Courtesy the artist
Michelle Dizon and Camilo Ontiveros
Westlake Theater, 2008
HD video, sound, min.
Courtesy the artists
Jennifer Hayashida and Benj Gerdes
Populus Tremula, 2010
Laser subtitled 16mm film, 9 min.
Courtesy the artists
Adriana Lara
Pazmaker Issues 0–8, 2006–09
text, paper, 23-1/2 x 16-1/2 in., 60 x 42 cm., poster
edited by Adriana Lara / Perros Negros
ongoing project since 2006
Courtesy the artist
Pazmaker Live Logo, 2010
clock, metal, plastic, acrylic paint
10-1/2 x 10-1/2 in., 27 x 27 cm.
Courtesy the artist
Pazmaker 9–The best of, 2010
text, newsprint paper, 4-color, 34 x 22-3/4 in., poster
Adriana Lara / Perros Negros
Contributing editors: Robert Snowden, John Menick
Design by Robert Snowden
Contributors: Keith Arnatt, Kingsley Amis, Artemio, Fia Backström,
Marie de Bregerolle, Mariana Castillo Deball, Nathan Carter & Jonathan
T.D. Neil, Guy de Cointet, Chris Fitzpatrick, Claire Fontaine, Chris Kraus,
Sarah Lehrer-Graiwer, Raimundas Malasauskas & Michael Portnoy,
Emily Mast, John Menick, Post Brothers, Jordi Tovilla, Danna Vajda,
Heriberto Yepez
Courtesy the artist
Elana Mann
Can’t Afford the Freeway, 2007-10
HD Video projection and 2002 Subaru Legacy Outback seats
sound, 15 min.
Kristen Smiarowski, Choreographer
Laura Bouza, Director of Photography
Courtesy the artist
RJ Messineo
Shield Painting (garden), 2010
70-1/2 x 62 x 1-1/4 in.
Paint on wooden lattice
Courtesy the artist
Concept of Yearning, 2010
48 x 97-1/2 x 3 in.
Paint on wooden lattice
Courtesy the artist
Michelle Dizon
(b. 1977, Los Angeles)
Michelle Dizon is an artist, filmmaker, and writer. Her work focuses
on questions of postcoloniality, migration, human rights and historical
memory. Dizon has presented solo exhibitions at the CUE Art Foundation, New York and the Art Gallery at the University of Texas, Arlington in addition to collaborating with Camilo Ontiveros on a project for
the Vargas Museum in Manila. Her work has been presented in group
exhibitions and screenings at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, San
Francisco; Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions, Los Angeles and the
Pacific Film Archive, Berkeley, among others. Dizon holds a B.A. in
English and History of Art from the University of California, Berkeley
and an M.F.A. in Interdisciplinary Studio from the Department of Art
at the University of California, Los Angeles. She is completing a Ph.D.
in the Department of Rhetoric with designated emphases in Film and
Women, Gender and Sexuality at the University of California, Berkeley.
Dizon works between Los Angeles and Manila. michelledizon.com
Camilo Ontiveros
(b. Rosario, Mexico, 1978)
Camilo Ontiveros works primarily in sculpture, installation and
video. He recently presented a project developed in collaboration with
Michelle Dizon at the Vargas Museum in Manila and has presented
work at Steven Turner Contemporary, Los Angeles; Armory Center
for the Arts, Pasadena; Gallery 727, Los Angeles; and Los Angeles
Contemporary Exhibitions. In addition, he is Co-Founder of NOMART,
a performance art space on wheels; a member of the DoEAT Collective;
and Co-Founder of Lui Velazquez, an alternative art space in Tijuana,
which supports cross-disciplinary discussion, art practice and events by
inviting artists to participate in short-term residencies. The artist is the
recipient of the 2010 illy Prize at ARCOmadrid art fair. He received his
M.F.A. from University of California, Los Angeles and his B.F.A. from
University of California, San Diego. Ontiveros lives and works in Los
Angeles. camiloontiveros.com
Jennifer Hayashida
(b. 1973, Oakland)
Jennifer Hayashida works as a poet, translator and visual artist.
She is the translator of Fredrik Nyberg’s A Different Practice (Ugly
Duckling Presse, 2007), and Eva Sjödin’s Inner China (Litmus Press,
2005). Hayashida has presented work at the Luleå Biennial, Luleå,
Sweden; Artist Space, New York and The Vera List Center for Art &
Politics at The New School, New York. She is presently a NYFA
Fellow in Poetry and works as the Acting Director of the Asian
American Studies Program at Hunter College. She is the recipient of
a PEN Translation Fund Grant, a Witter Bynner Poetry Translator
Residency, a Jerome Foundation Travel and Study Grant, and has been
a MacDowell Colony Fellow. She holds an M.F.A. in creative writing
from Bard College and a B.A. in American Studies from University of
California, Berkeley. Her recent work has been published in Salt Hill,
Chicago Review, and Harp & Altar. Hayashida lives and works in
New York. jenniferhayashida.info
Benj Gerdes
(b. Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, 1978)
Benji Gerdes is an artist and activist working in film, video, and a
number of other public formats. He frequently works in collaboration
with other artists, activists, and theorists, including as a member of 16
Beaver Group. His work has been included in film festivals and exhibitions internationally, including the 3rd Guangzhou Triennial; Musuem
of Contemporary Art Kiasma, Helsinki; Kunsthalle Exnergasse,
Vienna; Luleå Biennial, Luleå, Sweden; Moscow International Film
Festival; and Art in General, New York, among others. He is the
recipient of grants from the Jerome Foundation, NYSCA, and the
Experimental Television Center. Gerdes holds an M.F.A. in Integrated
Media Arts from Hunter College, City University of New York, a
B.A. in History of Technology/Film and Digital Studies from Brown
University and has attended the Visual Arts Program at M.I.T. and the
Whitney Independent Study Program. He teaches at The Cooper Union
School of Art. Gerdes lives and works in New York. clnswp.org
Adriana Lara
(b. 1978, Mexico City)
Adriana Lara’s practice employs a variety of forms and strategies that
expand the possibilities of art production and presentation. She has
presented solo exhibitions at Air de Paris, Paris and most recently as
at Artpace, San Antonio. She has participated in group exhibitions
at California College of the Arts, Wattis Institute for Contemporary
Arts, San Francisco; Triennal Poli-gráfica de San Juan, Puerto Rico;
New Museum, New York; Isabella Bortolozzi Galerie, Berlin; Gaga
Arte Contemporáneo, Mexico City; Colección Jumex, Ecatepec and
Palais de Tokyo, Paris, among others. With Fernando Mesta and
Agustina Ferreyra, Lara co-founded the Mexico City-based art office
Perros Negros, which has organized a series of large-scale residency,
workshop and exhibition projects, including Localismos, Mexico City
(May 1–June 3, 2004), Otra de vaqueros, Mexico City (March–April,
2006 ) and Galeria Sentimental, San Juan (January 1–December
31, 2007). She has served as editor in chief of the office’s quarterly
publication Pazmaker since its inception in 2006. Lara lives and works
in Mexico City. perrosnegros.info
Elana Mann
(b. 1980, Boston)
Elana Mann’s practice encompasses performance, video and installation in addition to larger discursive and collaborative projects. She has
presented work at Apex Art, New York; Galerie Califia, Horazdovice,
Czech Republic; A Gentil Carioca, Rio de Janeiro; WILDNESS, Los
Angeles and Outpost for Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. Mann has
organized Performing Economies, an exhibition and month long
program of performances at the Fellows of Contemporary Art and
Exchange Rate: 2008, an international performance exchange created
in response to the 2008 U.S. presidential election—both of which were
presented in Los Angeles. She is a recipient of California Community
Foundation’s 2009 Visual Arts Fellowship and has published two books,
Exchange Rate: 2008 (2009) and GIVE IT TO ME, DO IT TO ME,
MAKE ME… (2007). Mann received her B.F.A. from Washington
University, St. Louis and her M.F.A from California Institute of the
Arts, Valencia. She lives and works in Los Angeles. elanamann.com
RJ Messineo
(b. 1980, Hartford)
RJ Messineo is an artist working primarily in painting. Messineo
received a B.F.A. from Cornell University, Ithaca and an M.F.A. from
University of California, Los Angeles. In Fall 2009, the artist presented
a solo project at the alternative art space Imprenta in Los Angeles and
has participated in group exhibitions at Redling Fine Art, Los Angeles
and Steve Turner Contemporary, Los Angeles. Messineo currently lives
and works in St. Louis, Missouri. rjmessineo.com