July 29–August 5, 1999

art

Club Spector

First, she sanded the floor for her baby. Then a gallery grew.

by Robin Rice

Can a skateboard fanatic become a poet? "Why, of course," you reply. Well, can he also be a painter, like Jim Houser, who puts many of his word-driven paintings on skateboards (and will rejoin this story a few paragraphs down)?

"Don’t be a buffoon," you scoff, "it’s the most natural thing in the world to be athlete, poet and painter all at the same time!"

OK. But how about an artist running an art gallery? We don’t mean one of those Hey kids! Let’s-get-together, rent-a-cheap-space-and-divide-up-the-chores co-ops. Not even an artsy-fartsy, submit-your-portfolio, show-us-your-money and gallery-sit-but-don’t-expect-to-sell-anything nonprofit. We mean an honest-to-goodness, one-woman business with clean white walls, track lighting and a bottom line in the black.

"No way! Everybody knows artists — except for Keith Haring and Andy Warhol — are the worst businesspeople ever," we hear you chuckling.

It certainly does seem that the rare artist who succeeds at the commercial gallery business ends up being consumed by it. Cynics would say these people weren’t "real" artists in the first place.

	Paul Santoleri, detail of To Your Island, conte on paper, one of an eight-panel drawing.

Shelley Spector intends to be the exception. "I’m the daughter of a deli owner and a dancer," she says, "so I’m an artist-businessperson." You might be thinking that an artist who gets into the gallery business hopes to promote her own work; however, Spector shows her figurative wood sculptures exclusively at Sande Webster (2018 Locust St.) and is looking forward to her next solo show there in April 2000.

In a way, Spector opened the gallery because it was there. When she rented the first floor of 510 Bainbridge as a studio, she was drawn to the huge loading dock that allows her to move stuff in and out. She set up her woodworking shop and organized the found bits and pieces (some big) that she incorporates in sculpture or just saves because she likes them. On shelves, in barrels or old wooden cigar boxes are the square wood pipes from an old pipe organ, textured pool cues (which will become the fishnet-stockinged legs of a woman), antique metal tools inherited from her grandfather, pipe bowls that still smell of his tobacco and a collection of graceful miniature propellers.

At first, Spector didn’t pay much attention to the small room at the front of the building (which has an Isaiah Zagar mosaic dedicated to a deceased local plumber along one side). Then, she decided to sand the floor so it would be safe for her new baby daughter. She painted it an olive green. Pretty soon, Spector was thinking about painting the walls "Natural Echo" white and hanging up some of her own work — just so she could look at it. "Part of me was doing it, but I don’t think I ever said to myself, ‘I’ll build a gallery.’"

	"I’ve always felt the art world was like Club Med.… The indigenous people are hired to build it, but once the place opens, they’re not allowed to go on the beaches."

Possibly a turning point in this "gradual commitment" came when Spector found some museum-donated halogen lights at the Please Take Museum (where members donate unwanted items for a credit that allows them to take comparable materials for free). These lights are expensive and they were in perfect condition. Spector also got some good quality pedestals there.

Spector can’t operate power tools while caring for her daughter. Gallery-sitting and baby-sitting combine nicely. Anyway, she says, "Opening this gallery is an act of creativity. As an artist, I say to myself, ‘How can I use this material to its best advantage?’ So, I looked at this storefront and said, ‘How can I use this space to its best advantage?’"

In spite of sliding into the business, Spector clearly is in business. She’s got her publicity machine up and running and she’s lined up some outstanding young artists.

Jim Houser, the skateboard painter, was SPECTOR’s inaugural show. His paintings grew out of sketches in journals he kept to record his poetry. The colors are strong and flat with lettering in black marker or Wite-Out marker. Toothy Matt Groening-like cats, elephants, snakes, dinosaurs and dogs are outlined and integrated with jolts of cliché-based text ("DINOSAURS RULED THE EARTH," "LIES OF THE CENTURY," "THE ABILITY TO GO HOURS OR EVEN DAYS WITHOUT SPEAKING," "TOP CARNIVORES UNITE!"). There’s a layered, dreamlike effect that is playful, decorative and sometimes scary.

		Adam Wallacavage, Palace Amusements, photograph

The oval shape of a skateboard sans wheels curves away from the wall gracefully. Houser sold quite a few pieces from his July show, including every item in a grid of small squarish panels cut from skateboards. I coveted a euphoric blue elephant captioned "The First Time You Heard Punk Rock."

Some of Houser’s work will be held over for the four-person August show. Photographer Adam Wallacavage (scheduled for the September solo show) is participating. A wall about 16 feet long and 10 feet high will be filled with 400 of Wallacavage’s snapshots, each mounted under Plexi. Spector is selecting them from a suitcaseful. A bit like Burk Uzzle, but in hot color, Wallacavage loves bizarre daily Americana: weird toys, highway dinosaurs and fast food idols, as well as humans engaged in unintentionally surreal activities.

Painter Paul Santoleri will show an architectural conté crayon drawing made up of several smaller panels in the group show. He’s probably best known to the Philadelphian on the street as the author of the Passion Flower mural in West Philadelphia. His solo show is scheduled for next May to coincide with the big mural show at the Institute of Contemporary Art and the Fleisher Art Memorial.

The fourth August artist is sculptor Lauren Ashley. She’s showing an installation of 18 plaster cats, all cast from the same mold but painted individually. The form is simplified into one fat plane: two legs, a head and two ears.

A "sneak preview" of the group show is set for First Friday, Aug. 6. A celebratory closing reception will be held First Friday, Sept. 3.

Spector says she’s "always known" she would have a gallery, partly because she’s disappointed in the snobbery of so many commercial galleries.

"I’ve always felt the art world was like a Club Med-type of resort on a beautiful island. The indigenous people are hired to build it and work there, but once the place opens, they’re not allowed to go on the beaches. I want to have a more egalitarian place, a place for artists. My artists and myself are peers. I’m just starting out; we’re growing together."

One Huge Drawing, Twelve Photographs, Nine Paintings and Eighteen Cats at SPECTOR, 510 Bainbridge St., Aug. 9-Sept. 3. Sneak preview Aug. 6, 4-8 p.m. during First Friday. Closing reception 5-9 p.m., Sept. 3. Gallery hours: Thu., Fri., Sat.: 4-8 p.m. or by appointment, 215-238-0840.