Washington City Paper — “Show & Tell”

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THE ARTSY THING THAT SWALLOWED D.C.

Every year or two since 1999, hundreds of area artist types have converged on some cavernous abandoned building in the District to show off and sell their works.

Oh, and to party—always to party. “It was, like, one of the funnest shows I’ve ever been to,” says D.C. painter Matt Sesow of his most recent Art-O-Matic. “There’s pretty much a party there every night.”

And each time, the monthlong orgy of artists partying amid mostly unjuried artwork gets bigger—and harder to manage.

Starting out five years ago with nearly 350 exhibitors at the vacant Manhattan Laundry on Florida Avenue NW—courtesy of developer Douglas Jemal—the event more than doubled in size in 2000, with some 750 participants squeezing into the old Hechinger’s building in Tenleytown.

And when it returned in 2002, Art-O-Matic had ballooned to include more than 1,000 exhibitors, who occupied about 100,000 square feet inside the Waterside Mall in Southwest—and ran up costs of about $130,000.

Now organizers are gearing up for Art-O-Matic 2004—time and place to be determined—which could be even bigger.

Maybe too big, in fact, at least for the Cultural Development Corp. (CDC). The D.C.-based nonprofit, which largely ran the show for the past two Art-O-Matics, has dropped out of the upcoming exhibition.

“There’s no way we can devote the same level of staff energy to it in calendar ’04,” says CDC Executive Director Anne Corbett, citing the “all-encompassing” nature of the event.

“It’s a huge freakin’ thing,” Corbett says. “Whatever you give it, it sort of eats alive.”

And Corbett should know. Though other organizers and participants have pitched in as volunteers over the years, Corbett’s small staff has worked full-time on the massive arts exhibition. “For all practical purposes,” she says, “it was a project of the Cultural Development Corporation….It’s on our books—all the money, all the liability, all the responsibility.”

And most of the headaches: Coordinating upward of 1,000 visual and performing artists and handling all of their needs is something of a “communication nightmare,” she says.

Logistics weren’t easy, either. In 2002, the labyrinthine exhibition site was so sprawling, organizers needed to print up maps. Moreover, the event was marred by theft and destruction: Revelers on opening night plucked crayons from artist Anita Walsh’s installation For Louise and adorned the walls with colorful graffiti (City Desk, 11/15/02). Later, thieves made off with painter Dale Hunt’s acrylic work Adobe, priced at $400, as well as $150 worth of CD and DVD equipment from Derek Morton’s installation Protective Goggle Room (Artifacts, 12/20/02).

“It was probably just somebody who was drunk,” says Sesow, whose Ben and Flopsie, priced at $20, also got swiped.

And what artwork was left suffered from critics’ jabs. Former Washington City Paper contributor Glenn Dixon, for one, called Art-O-Matic 2002 “even worse, more sprawling and more amateurish” than ever (“Quality Is Job 1,” 12/27/02). Local art blogger Tyler Green agreed, calling the show “an exhausting abomination” that “celebrates mediocrity at the expense of quality.”

Heck, some artists openly celebrate the mediocrity. “Sometimes at Art-O-Matic,” says past exhibitor and event volunteer Chad Alan, “the pieces are so bad that they’re great.”

For the CDC, it was all too much. “For four or five months straight, it was almost all that we did,” Corbett says. And now that the organization has its own gallery, Flashpoint, to run—as well as two of five staffers in the midst of pregnancy—Corbett says the CDC simply doesn’t have the time or energy for Art-O-Matic anymore.

Nonetheless, Art-O-Matic founder and self-described “facilitator” George Koch isn’t worried. The vast number of volunteers, he says, will pick up the slack. “Art-O-Matic would not function if it wasn’t for the volunteer artists and the volunteer public,” he explains. “Everybody brings something to the table.”

True, Art-O-Matic requires all exhibitors to devote at least 15 hours of volunteer time to help run the event. But organizers, Koch admits, are still seeking a new “fiscal agent” to handle the finances—a partner, he adds, that won’t be devoting any staff time the way the CDC did.

Corbett, meanwhile, will be watching from the sidelines. “I’m gonna be very interested to see how well it really does with truly an all-volunteer scenario,” she says.

BREAKIN’ THE CODE

The art of breakdancing requires many physical skills. It takes agility, flexibility, and some degree of acrobatic ability—not to mention rhythm—to hand glide, turtle, and pop and lock with proper mad style.

Oh, and comfortable shoes. Unrestrictive, loose-fitting clothing doesn’t hurt, either.

So it’s quite puzzling to read fliers all across town promoting Friday’s “B-Boy Competition” at Georgetown’s Paper Moon Cafe, which include this glaring directive: “Dress code: No sneakers, hoodys, boots, hats.”

No sneakers? No hats? Jeez, Richie “Crazy Legs” Colon must be rolling in his, um, flattened cardboard box.

“That’s actually a typo,” pleads promoter Doug Cuddihy, who’s organizing the head-spinning extravaganza, featuring music by DJs Geometrix and Dadeo, with proceeds benefiting the D.C.-based National Dance and Music Rights Alliance. Good thing, too: As one online history of the form has it, “The dance must be done in sneakers, for the dancer’s safety.”

Though Paper Moon often requires that patrons wear “proper attire,” the bar and restaurant’s managers have made an exception for the “B-Boy” crowd. And newer fliers, Cuddihy says, reflect this change.

“Our friends can dress however they want,” he says. And how: Even the tiny-T’d women of Hooters, he adds, will be making an appearance.

ART-O-NOMADIC

Wherever Art-O-Matic goes, it takes one big idea with it: turning abandoned or underutilized commercial spaces into something (arguably) more aesthetically pleasing. Organizers will announce the location of Art-O-Matic 2004 on Sept. 10. Until then, we can only guess which neglected space it will occupy:

Loews Cineplex Inner and Outer Circles?

Both shuttered earlier this year, the two marginalized movie houses used to show second-run films. Say hello to second-rate artwork.

The upper deck of RFK Stadium?

Closed off and completely empty during Major League Soccer games, the outdoor arena’s top level offers space for some 20,000 spectators. Fill it with painters, sculptors, musicians, and other creative types and then you can call those games sellouts.

Dupont Down Under?

Previously used as a streetcar station and fallout shelter, this spacious abandoned retail complex exists entirely underground. What better place for a collection of work by “emerging artists”?

Uline Arena?

Later known as the Washington Coliseum, this 9,000-seat arena once hosted a diverse array of events, from ballet to boxing, from midget auto races to go-go shows. Currently a trash-transfer station, the site might inspire a new artistic movement in the spirit of junk sculpture, Arte Povera, or, most likely, Greenbergian kitsch.

—Chris Shott

Got something for Show & Tell? Send tips to show@washcp.com. Or call (202) 332-2100, x 455.