FURTHERMORE:
On a Friday morning, December 8, I was in Peoria, getting ready to go into the art department at Bradley University to choose awards for the print and drawing exhibition I had chosen earlier in the fall. While taking a shower, I was filled with thoughts about juried exhibitions, and this essay in particular. Having re-read my offering, I wondered how many readers of this piece would get my sarcasm, my humor, etc. I do believe firmly that academics contribute to their isolation, in part, by placing too great an emphasis on shows like this, and the concomitant anonymity for the exhibitors (even when there is a catalogue afterwards). I realize that not all academics and self-published artists focus solely on juried shows, but I wrote in a way that presumes this to make my point clear. I feel somewhat like Beauvais did when he wrote a juror's statement for Parkside last year, professing ambivalence about exhibitions for which one paid a fee to submit work for judging.

In the shower, I kept thinking about Preston Sturges's 1941 film Sullivan's Travels, which I trust (and hope) most of you have seen at least once. The filmó a brilliant satire of Hollywoodó centers on a director who in an effort to better understand his subject (a documentary about the downtrodden American masses during the Depression), decides to go on the road incognito, with only a few cents in his pocket. From his lofty position in Hollywood, he presumes that a realistic treatment based upon his road trip will provide the country with a rich transformative experience, some akin to American Exodus. Life on the road turns out to be more unpredictable than the director could have imagined, and by the end of the film, he winds up in a Southern prison with all manner of low-life who suffer from the stereotypical degradations of jail life. At his own wits end and barely able to keep his prode, he finally sees the truth that eluded him back in his Hollywood office. During a Saturday night movie, a series of comedy shorts, the director watches as the prisoners thoroughly enjoy themselves; for a brief hour or so, they have forgotten their miserable life. Returning to Hollywood, the director makes a great comedy, not the serious, high-handed film he set out to create. Thus, in the end, he realized it was life's simple pleasures that people craved most when they were in their darkest moments.

If you can stretch your imaginations, I felt somewhat like that director this fall. Going out to judge print exhibitions, and being asked to report on the experience, is not necessarily considered by my superiors to be a good use of my time, and it made my preferences very public. Nevertheless, I was delighted to be asked and to fulfill these invitations. Moreover, I kind of relished the idea of putting myself in a vulnerable position, subject to reverse criticism in response to my opinions rendered here. Remember, I once sat on the either side of the fence, and I submitted my work knowing full well that, in the big leagues of museums and galleries, no one took the juried show seriously. For those of you who entered one of the four shows I selected this year, I hope you will see by my choices and the resulting comments in the catalogs, that I have a fair but rigorous point of view. In most cases I tried not to look at the authors of the submitted art work (at Bradley, I viewed the work without names), preferring to see their intrinsic qualities, as well as their potential for powerful groupings with other work. I also tried to be especially cognizant of artists whose work I was not familiar with, giving it a chance over some artists whose work I felt had plenty of exposure in these forums. In spite of my professed wariness about the whole process, I hoped to find a positive element in these missions.

Like the director in Sullivan's Travels, I realized that a lot of the ultimate good of these shows is the incredible enthusiasm, enjoyment, and potential for education in the communities that host them. Seeing the delights in organizers' eyes, hearing it in their voices (and watching the Bradley patrons select prints for their collections, rather than letting the judge do it), is quite enough to convince me that these exhibitions still have value in the overall scheme of things. Given that printmaking is constantly subjected to insulting salvos from critics and university administrators, among others, we must constantly strive to maintain the public's critical and collecting interest for prints. We should all thank Bradley University, the associated venues, and the many donors/collectors for continuing this exhibition for so many years. John Heintzman, the gallery director and ad hoc official of this exhibit is an extraordinary individual. His energy and memory for past installments make him the perfect caretaker and historian of the Bradley National (during our breaks from the process, he entertained me with his recollections of past exhibitions, placements of objects, etc.). John is an impresario of the highest order, and I think he shall keep the show going by shear force of his personality.

MARK PASCALE
ART INSTITUTE OF CHICAGO PRINT & DRAWING CURATOR