The last thing crossing most consumers’ minds in a recession is: It would be awfully nice to fill some wall space with a nice piece of locally-produced art. Hmm…

But why is this? Galleries won’t stay afloat on their own – most continue their humble existence on donations and sales of the artwork they feature. Between Minneapolis’s free museums and innumerable art galleries, we’re an art-spoiled crowd – sometimes we need to be reminded of the careful world these galleries exist in.

Franklin Art Works

To your right hang a cluster of old cell phones. Occasionally one will start to buzz, which will grow into a low trembling roar until the entire suspended pile is in a frenzied vibration. But other than that, it’s a bare white room. If you go late enough in the day there might not even be anyone at the reception desk – the whole place might feel abandoned. A slide projector someone forgot to unplug is in a side room with dark wallpaper showing pictures of a woman’s face from various angles, and the pages of a book turning.

Franklin Art Works was built as a silent movie theater in 1916, but eventually served as an adult movie theater, a bicycle shop, and an underground venue before being purchased by Franklin Art Works. The current exposition, primarily of works by Chris Baker (with the exception of Alex Fleming’s projector piece) uses only the main floor, but Baker’s selections are rich enough for his two main works – Murmur Study and Hello World! or How I Learned to Stop Listening and Love the Noise – to leave you satisfied. However, on the second floor is a large performance space, unchanged since the building’s debut as a movie theater.

Chris Baker, a graduate of the University of Minnesota’s MFA program, uses the space excellently, with Murmur Study taking up the bulk of the lobby. Strips of evenly spaced and gracefully hanging printer paper are attached to computers at the roof that feed down into an endless, overwhelming pile of already-printed receipt paper. The computers are programmed to pick up, in real time, tweets from the website Twitter that contain particularly emotional keywords. The result, as in his other piece, is a cacophony of highly personal background noise, in this case beautifully cast into a massive pile of junk on the floor. Hello World! features hundreds of personal video confessions, each tiny and each with an audio track playing. The volume swells but the individual speeches remain indistinguishable. Occasionally an image on one of the individual video squares will catch your attention, but it will quickly change. The works inhabit the bare white space of the gallery well. The small exhibition space packs a lot of interesting material and – being fairly easy to walk through – is an excellent gallery for a quick visit.

Art of This

Like any respectable gallery, Art of This morphs itself to the needs of their featured artist. Within its white walls and behind an unassumingly pale red door, Art of This exists as a small dynamic entity in the midst of an otherwise lackluster region of Minneapolis. The gallery is a small, cryptic presence among the bleak housing and petrol station that draws traffic to this tragic region of Nicollet Ave.

But Art of This’ latest featured artist, Bruce Tapola, has created a barrier between the gallery and its outside world. A lengthy white wall rests between the gallery and its front windows, blocking most of the view the audience has to dull architecture across the street and the delurid glow of passing cars.
Tapola’s work features an eclectic mixture of mediums – from paintings to elaborate structures resembling branches. Photos impaled by smaller bits of wood dangle from the floating structure. It’s a melancholic expression of what the outside world is reticent of. As the audience paces about the space they are subtly reminded of that fateful petrol station outside by a circle hacked out of the white barrier at the front of the gallery. The Au Natural exhibit will be displayed through December 6.

As a non-profit, artist-run space, Art of This depends on art sales, grants, and private donations to continue to feature new media and experimental artwork. The gallery also features unique one-night music shows every other week as part of an Improvised music series.

The Gallery @ Fox Tax

Located along First Ave. in northeast Minneapolis lies a gallery with an identity crisis. Fox Tax, located one block from the bustle of Central Ave., feels just a little hidden. While the name implies it, you might not realize you’re in a tax preparation and advising office when walking into the sleek gallery space.
The Gallery @ Fox Tax is rather business-chic. Its modest sign, huge front windows and minimal furnishings also add to its mystique. White and brick walls frame a collection of black leather couches that look small and ornamental, making the surrounding artwork look even more outrageous.
The current exhibit on display at The Gallery @ Fox Tax is Heavy Petting, a collection of paintings by Rob McBroom that draw on images from the Edward Lear poem, “The Owl and the Pussy Cat.” The pieces each feature a selection of the text incorporated into a vibrant painting of bright, almost garish, colors, along with glitter, plastic jewels, and found objects. The paintings are displayed in sequence, but arguably each portrays a whole story of its own.

Around the corner, another smaller gallery space sits empty, patiently waiting for the next exhibit.
While a small, one-room gallery might not be enough to draw you over to Fox Tax, it might make a nice addition to a day trip to northeast. Neighboring establishments like the Red Stag Supper Club and overwhelmingly cute gift shop I Like You are reason enough to linger around the block and serve as a striking reminder that this part of Minneapolis has threatened for years to become the next Uptown.
At the very least, Fox Tax is quite possibly the most aesthetically pleasing place to have your taxes done. Somehow that alone makes it seem like a good idea.

Tags: arts, Northeast