On March 1, 2006, CL (then called the Weekly Planet) published the first art review I ever wrote. I remember the moment when I found out that something I had written was going to be printed — and that other people might read it — because I had to step into the backyard of Katherine Gibson’s South Tampa home during a folk art sale to take a call from David Warner, CL’s editor-in-chief.
I’d sent David a review several weeks earlier after being told by Paul Wilborn, who was then the City of Tampa’s art czar — I’m sure his official title was something else, but nobody remembers what — that CL was in need of an art critic. Mary Mulhern had given up the role to run for city council, where she continues to serve with distinction.
David had agreed to let me write the review on spec. (Meaning that if it was good enough and he published it, I’d get paid.) I picked what I thought was the most interesting exhibition in town — Dragon Veins, a group show of contemporary artists inspired by Asia, curated by Mernet Larsen and Elisabeth Condon, two USF painting professors — and gave it my best shot. When I hadn’t heard anything for a few weeks, I assumed the review wasn’t likely to see the light of day. But lo and behold, David was calling to ask a few questions and check some facts in preparation for publication.
It was his last question — “What do you want to review next?” — that I didn’t have an answer for. (A word to the wise, aspiring writers: always have your next pitch ready.) But I came up with an idea … some 250 more times over the next seven years.
Looking back on old columns last week, it struck me that within a year of writing I had met many of the people whom I would meet again and again. (Later Condon was the first to ask me to tell her about my practice as a writer, as if I was an artist, too. Whether she intended it to or not, the question instantly deepened my sense of the responsibility of writing about other people’s work.) My second review was about the painting of Josette Urso, a New York-based Tampa native who periodically returns to be feted with exhibitions like one last year at HCC Dale Mabry, where Kathy Gibson now manages the art gallery. Gibson’s folk art sale introduced me to the work of Ruby Williams, whose Bealsville fruit stand I revisited early this year for an interview that made it to CL’s cover.
In that first year, I also met Erika Schneider of Bleu Acier (who, by sheer coincidence, on Friday opens an exhibition of paintings by Steve McClure, a fantastic Tampa-connected artist whose work she was also showing in 2006 and has a show opening at Bleu Acier this Friday); Theo Wujcik (currently the subject of a solo exhibition at Tempus Projects); Babs Reingold; Joe Griffith; Cathy Clayton; and Carrie Mackin. Carrie closed her gallery, Covivant, in 2006 and moved to New York, but shared her thoughts on Seminole Heights for CL’s Neighborhood Issue last month after a recent visit.
Seeing their names in print reminded me that covering a beat like art means joining a community — even if at the slight remove favored by journalistic ethics — and I feel lucky to have belonged to this one.
Then there were things I remembered with a laugh. I was 26 when I started writing for CL. One day I showed up at the Tampa Museum of Art to interview director Ken Rollins, filled with excitement and budding self-importance because I’d been asked for the first time to contribute to a CL cover story on the arts. Before I could open my mouth, the museum’s receptionist directed me to a meeting of prospective interns. I had my inaugural experience of backlash after going negative on “an exhibit so awful that it can only be appreciated as an ironic display of high camp.” That was Peep Show, hosted by South Tampa’s Michael Murphy Gallery in 2007. After my review hit newsstands, an artist in the show whose work I had singled out as “scandalously bad” called me a bitch on his website, and Murphy emailed the then-publisher’s sister requesting that I be fired. (Whee!)
Each of these people and experiences, and many more unnamed, has shaped the way I write about art. Today I probably wouldn’t waste print space on a show I thought was subpar — too many other interesting and admirable ventures call out for coverage, so many that I can’t keep up with them. (Thank god for CL A&E editor Julie Garisto, who works hard to make sure a lot of exhibitions get at least a listing in the paper or online.) Having picked a show to write about implies a judgment that it is worth seeing. The fun part is interpretation, which I envision as a metaphorical walk through a given exhibition with readers — time for telling a story about what I understand an artist to be communicating through his or her work and what I may know about the intent behind it from an interview. (In my book, good reporting — asking questions — ought to be the foundation for thinking critically.)
My hope is always that after our “travel” together a reader will be inspired to continue the journey herself. As an exercise in imagination I have found writing about art to be the best adventure there is, even if it only requires crossing the Howard Frankland bridge.
On Friday I’m leading a tour, on trolley and foot, of the Warehouse Arts District in St. Pete to celebrate CL’s 25th anniversary. Artists including Duncan McClellan, Charlie Parker, Josh Poll and David Walker are transforming industrial buildings there into impressive studio and gallery spaces that portend an exciting new chapter for Tampa Bay as an arts community. Come walk with me.
This article appears in Apr 18-24, 2013.