Back in the 1980s, Chicago was a much different place for an artist. There were any number of venues showing both emerging and more established artists, as well as a more concentric gallery neighborhood centered around Superior and Huron. Equally, rents were cheaper, and spaces were larger. As this was before the dominance of online platforms and art fairs, works by artists of note were still reasonably priced, and both artists and collectors had a more intimate relationship with dealers.
Although art galleries in Chicago are found in any number of venues throughout the city, one hub that has been quietly emerging over the years is the Bridgeport art community. Anchored by the Zhou brothers, the Bridgeport art center, and most recently Alma Interiors, this area is a destination. Monthly Third Friday evening openings are well attended, and in some ways, are reminiscent of the Superior and Huron warehouse building in the 1980s that later burned down.
Of the three venues, Alma Interiors differs in the sense that it is an exhibition space sans workshops and artists’ studio spaces. The gallery is largely configured like a mini art expo, hosting artists “salon style,” with one curated exhibition space. Many of the artists are well known and have significant public commissions as well as long exhibition histories. Foregoing monthly gallery rotations, Alma Interiors offers both collectors and patrons opportunities to view a broad range of work over a larger span of time. Perhaps as brick-and-mortar spaces diminish, this is one roadmap for the future.
Of the exhibiting artists at Alma, I was particularly interested in the work of sculptor Eric Lindsey. Several sculptors had recommended his work to me, and I was encouraged to both see it and write about it. Also of interest was a recently produced film which highlighted the artist’s biography and recent health struggles. Although I had known Eric throughout the years, this was my first opportunity to see a comprehensive selection of his work.
One of Eric’s most prominent public sculptures, Expanding Universe, is installed at the North Shore Sculpture Park. The maquette is also included in the exhibition at Alma Interiors. As the title suggests, Expanding Universe seems to be a work that grows from within. Its screw-like orifice suggests the base of a light bulb, yet its asymmetrical bulbous form is equally its skin, while air is its core. Although the work is static, it evokes a primitive breathing machine that would regularly expand and contract. Like the early works of Tony Cragg and Claus Oldenburg, a common form is transformed, and it refreshes our sense of looking at the world.
Differing significantly from Expanding Universe, Feta (2022) is perhaps one of the most atypical sculptures in the exhibition. Created entirely out of laminated wood, the work’s coiled beginning ends with a hyper realistic representation of a dog’s head. The coiled armature counterbalances the head, and the work is equally literal and abstract. The the detailed carving is a tour-de-force of figurative representation, demonstrating superb craftsmanship. The subject is allusive—its ambiguity possibly suggesting a narrative of more personal content for Eric. The sculpture is equally tantalizing and disturbing and bridges a narrow gap between the grotesque and beautiful.
Other works such as Magritte Piece (2022) carefully reinterpret the Magritte painting as sculpture. Like a piece by H.C. Westermann, it is beautifully made. If the Magritte work is the initial inspiration, the end result is entirely Eric’s own.
Another piece titled Where the Sculptor Lives, (1996) may reference labor as a hand and glove as synonymous with work and idea of labor and essential for production. Something is playfully wrong with the depiction of four fingers as opposed to five, but the piece, beautifully carved in granite, seems just about right. Equally the sculpture alludes to a code, as the form seems to be both sign and symbol.
A Cautionary Tale (2021 is similarly paradoxical as the deadliness of weaponry is concurrent with the beauty of the form. Perhaps the underlying message is that it can be both. The facile handling and integration of multiple materials undermines its own sinister association.
Cloud Machine (2010) is an uncomfortable yet engaging union of base and object. A wooden gear anchors a hovering cloud-like cast bronze form. The pairing is unexpected, creating a dynamic yet perhaps unresolved tension as the dark cloud hovers above an industrial machine-like landscape, both sinister and suggestive.
Sculpture is hard. It is difficult to make, to move, to exhibit, and to sell. Floor space is limited, and outdoor commissions are extremely competitive. Often, they only marginally cover the cost of fabrication, and installation. Most sculptors wrestle equally with the cost of materials, shop space, and storage. Prominence in the sculpture world largely means that you do not have to do the work yourself, as there is steady support and funding for large scale installations and commissions. This applies to a minuscule percentage of sculptors working today.
This is equally what is impressive about Eric Lindsay and his work. He is an artist that has continued to work even when facing health issues. Each sculpture is slow and deliberate—carefully produced. This is both labor and love. The 14 sculptures at Alma Interiors, offer a unique opportunity to see a significant overview of Eric’s work from the last 30 years. Each sculpture is a singular reflection of an idea. En masse, they represent the oeuvre of an accomplished sculptor of his time with a considered body of work. I am grateful to have had a closer opportunity to view them.
Neil Goodman is a sculptor formerly based in Chicago with an extensive exhibition history. Presently living on the central coast of California, he retired from Indiana University Northwest as Professor Emeritus of Fine Arts. He is currently represented by Carl Hammer Gallery and serving as the South-Central California Region Editor for the New Art Examiner.
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