What a blessing is the silence that is not only found but placed in the art scene—to finally be able to focus on the artistic experience without the distraction of social interaction. For a writer like me, who hopes for that situation every time I visit an exhibition, this year’s Renaissance Society gallery in Chicago was perfect. “Many events make the mistake of seeking power, and I wanted to eliminate that confusion,” said artist Maurizio Cattelan, who designed the event, adding that silence changes the way people perceive things. “It’s not that communication stops completely; it just becomes weak and exposed. People write, wait, look for a long time.” To him, it felt like a good basis for an artistic event, although he admitted that many artists have participated in silence better than ever before, from John Cage to Joseph Grigely. “I wasn’t trying to make a statement so much as to disrupt spontaneous behavior. The gallery often operates on a social reflex, and the silence makes that reflection visible.”
Only an activist like Catelan can transform RenBen’s popular gala—which this year raised nearly $600,000 to support museum exhibitions, performance series, concerts and community programs, all of which are always free and open to the public—into its own work of art: a silent scavenger hunt, an inclusive performance and a broad and inclusive exhibition. In its final act, the night turned again into something like an Italian wedding celebration, or sagra, those village festivals that bridge the gap between host and guest.
“A solo show is already full of other people. Helpers, clues, ghosts, distractions,” said Catelan, clarifying that the evening would be nothing without the sum of its parts. Many of the musicians involved had ties to Ren; some situations are created where visitors can participate and take something with them. “The game was simple: give the guests a structure, then let them get a little lost inside.”
Taking up two floors of the historic downtown Chicago Athletic Association building, Cattelan organized a tour of the rooms that brought a smile to each of the evening’s 400 guests. Silent films, cutouts—works can be his or left there. The rooms feel like they belong in an abandoned hotel: a crime scene, or the trail of someone who has suddenly disappeared. “Showroom left as is,” read one of the texts on the screen. Bottles of Franciacorta are served in the bathtub. Silent waiters nod to guests to serve Midwest Cicchetti, guests bow in thanks—a hushed social ritual that becomes, itself, a performance.
The screen displayed an “urgent request” to donate to the center, while emphasizing this as a “fun” moment, encouraging us to find joy in it. “Art should make you feel; Art should make you think, And REN will give you the chance, To understand that the Renaissance never ended,” it reads. Next to it was a regular church offering box. One room seemed to be under renovation, covered with light plastic. In another, a video of a cadaver lying like seaweed on a beach. The gala was a labyrinthine journey—people walked through it like children exploring, and ended up in a room full of balloons, like a maze.
The Polaroids room turned every guest into a play character. For one, the magic card game appears without words. In yet another, an animated skeleton by Turkish artist Özgür Kar appears on the screen. A series of silent films curated by Dan Morgan and Allyson Field reminds us of the narrative power and expressive power of silent cinema. In other areas, visitors are invited to slow down and view art slides as if in a lecture. Then there’s a man wearing headphones playing guitar in a thoughtful way, delivering, without words, a silent statement: sometimes the inner world is bigger than the one we make out to others. Nearby, Sigmund Freud is unfairly resurrected in a video by Isadora Neves Marques The Early Death of Sigmund Freud. In one of the last rooms, the screen reads “your light on your partner’s wrist,” as three actors act out a piece composed by Davide Balula, until a short circuit changes the flow.
Catelan’s stage unfolds over two floors as a mental, contemplative, inward-looking maze. His ban on conversation forced gala-goers to focus on the experience, removing that layer of social work that often interferes with the encounter with art. And then, towards the end, a white canvas with a golden toilet appeared—the only undeniable Catalan act.
In her remarks, Renaissance Society board president Nancy Lenner Frey described the night as “an act of persistence and resistance to speed and noise.” Sadly, as the crowd gathered in the Stagg Court, the managing director and general manager Mariam Ben Salah had to ask for silence-almost shouting over the crowd, released from the hour and 30 minutes of imposed silence, suddenly uncontrollable, immediately resumed its public performance.
Humor is not the opposite of seriousness, but a way to carry it, he said of Catelan’s art. “Getting out of the groove or out of the way” is a blessing, he added—before rolling out a long list of artists who have contributed to Cattelan’s compositions, including Isabelle Frances McGuire, Josh Dihle, Alejandro Cesarco, Max Guy, Shir Ende, Jacob Ryan Reynolds, Ghislaije Keunmin, Peter Wachlerür and William Churchill.
Then, the attitude changed. The music started playing, and the crowd started dancing to the Italian folk songs played by La Tosca. Dinner was served in the style of a sala veneziana dance hall: tricolore salad and lemon risotto, menu sourced by Jason Hammel of Lula Cafe. To close, the 3.5 meter long tiramisu looks-pretty good, it must be said-as Veneta as Maurizio himself, who has lived in Treviso.
Only Catelan can turn the gala of an American institution into an Italian wedding; that time of the balara, the dance hall as a real gathering culture that we all, perhaps, remember. “I’m not sure that was all Italian. Have you ever known Italians to keep their mouths shut?” Catelan takes a closer look. When asked for three words to describe the evening, he gives tradition, shame and release. “Culture, because people need form before they lose form,” he explained. “Shame, because embarrassment makes you awake. It’s the honest way. Free, because pleasure comes only after self-control.” He adds, Italians know that the line between mourning and celebrating is very thin. “That helps,” he says.
When I asked Ben Salah how he sees his role, he said that the most important thing for him is to keep the artists in the center and he admits that the centers do not go by ideas alone. “Being a curator also means fundraising, hosting, persuading, producing and solving problems. I don’t resent that. In fact, some of it I find really interesting and fulfilling in its own way,” he admits, stressing that all those jobs should continue to work towards the artistic project rather than away from it.
Throwing a fundraiser every year isn’t universally his thing, so he decided to turn it into an artist-led project. “We’re lucky to work with some of the most creative people around, so why would we hand over our big annual event to a corporate events company when we could instead use it as another testing ground? That change changed everything for me,” he said, noting that even if raising 25 percent of their annual budget overnight isn’t easy, it’s a lot more fun when it’s focused on an artist’s vision.
Chicago, according to Ben Salah, is defined by two very different but equally important forces: on the one hand, its prestigious institutions such as the Art Institute and the MCA, and on the other, its artist-run spaces, apartment shows and a DIY scene that lives deeply. “I think Ren’s always had a very special place between those two poles, and we’re happy to sit in that middle ground. We’re obviously not an artist-run place, but we’re not a fully-oiled facility either. We’ve tried to preserve some of the original dispersal, flexibility and sweat, while providing support and continuity.”
Ben Salah admits that aligning RenBen with EXPO has been a real game changer. “It has changed the type of audience that the event can be called, it brings artists, collectors, collectors and friends from all over in one room, and it has allowed us to build a meaningful relationship not only with the exhibition itself, but with the multitude of people and institutions that make that week an energizing city,” he concluded. And if RenBen is a test of strength for the city’s art week, Chicago felt more than ready, with the momentum of the Strong Era in full swing.
