PHX Gallery, Where Exception Becomes Convention

PHX Gallery is a must-see for people whose love of Comme des Garçons reaches deeper than PLAY T-shirts and Converse collaborations.

Established in 2014 by Joachim and Carly Lapotre, PHX Gallery undoubtedly stands as one of Chicago’s best kept secrets, and is a must-see for people whose love of Comme des Garçons reaches deeper than PLAY T-shirts and Converse collaborations. Located in Chicago’s River North neighborhood, the gallery sits inside an unpretentious—yet clean and airy—warehouse, which is also home to other small galleries and studios. 

An unassuming set of glass double doors, framed with crown molding and a set of Venetian blinds, diligently protected the gallery from prying eyes. Image: PHX Gallery

A warm, intelligent, and funny Parisian, Joachim led me to an unassuming set of glass double doors, framed with crown molding and a set of venetian blinds that diligently protected the gallery from prying eyes. The moment Joachim opened the door, I was immediately immersed into a world where fringe fashion and furniture are the rule, not the exception. A small, intimate space looking out onto the street and the building across the way, the room is the perfect setting in which to learn about Comme des Garçons and post-modernist furniture. Immediately to the left of the doors, a set of Prorok rattan armchairs by Borek Sipek for Driade from the late 1980s nestled protectively around a glowing and tactile yellow foam lamp by Masayo Ave for Antonangeli Illuminazione from the 1990s, which itself was perched upon a miniature white ionic column. In one of the chairs rested a sophisticated leather Boston bag from Comme des Garçons, and this entire scene was backdropped by mid-century ceramic wall crucifixes from Belgium. 

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The feeling and visual gravity of the curious sheer black linen dress by Watanabe for Comme des Garçons from 2014, alternating from mesh to faux leather circles placed seemingly at random, were incredible. Image: PHX Gallery

After I took in this magnificent scene, Joachim walked me through the multiple racks of vintage Comme des Garçons clothing, which encapsulate almost 40 years of Japanese avant-garde design from Rei Kawakubo and perhaps her most famous disciple and collaborator, Junya Watanabe. Describing the myriad of ways in which Kawakubo subtly (and not so subtly) defies conventional ideas of gender, form, and design, Joachim’s passion shone brightly and enveloped me further in the fantastic world of Comme des Garçons. Stopping at one particular piece, a curious sheer black linen dress by Watanabe for Comme des Garçons from 2014, Joachim encouraged me to try it on, an invitation I accepted without hesitation. The feeling and visual gravity of the garment, alternating from mesh to faux leather circles placed seemingly at random, were incredible.  

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The feeling and visual gravity of the curious sheer black linen dress by Watanabe for Comme des Garçons from 2014, alternating from mesh to faux leather circles placed seemingly at random, were incredible. Image: PHX Gallery

Another standout that highlighted Kawakubo and Watanabe’s interest in creating seemingly ordinary clothes  was an asymmetric “hooded shirt” from 2011. What seemed from the front to be an ordinary button-down shirt, revealed itself upon closer inspection to be a hoodie, with orange stripes on the front and a red polka dot pattern on the back. Conversation about avant-garde Japanese clothing could have lasted forever, but we eventually began discussing the equally impressive collection of furniture and objets d’art placed throughout the room.

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I was immediately immersed into a world where fringe fashion and furniture are the rule, not the exception. Image: PHX Gallery

After being introduced to Memphis Group, Ettore Sottsass, and the postmodernist furniture movement through a 2018 show in New York’s chic SoHo district titled Raquel’s Dream House (curated by Raquel Cayre, who runs the fabulous Instagram account @ettoresottsass), I became a veritable fan of postmodernist furniture and objects. To that end, Joachim and I eagerly discussed Memphis Group legends such as the Super Lamp by Martine Bedin and the Carlton bookcase designed by Sottsass himself, all the while immersed in a constellation of post-modernist creations including the Shiva Vase Prototype from 1973 (which you have to see to believe), several Keith Haring rugs, and a few curious glass and ceramic vases, which were in turn interspersed between a collection of prints by Memphis veteran Nathalie Du Pasquier. A particular highlight of this unparalleled collection was the selection of lighting: a Divan 2 Pendant by Simon Henningsen for Lyfa hung in one corner, casting striking shadows upon the white walls, while a Murano Glass Lamp by Angelo Mangiarotti for Pollux Skipper rested on the floor, creating oblong rings of warm, yellow light across the wooden boards. A designer in his own right, Joachim revealed to me several of his own designs, ranging from delicate, glass blown vases to large, geometric, ceramic sake pitchers.  

From a visitor’s perspective, perhaps the greatest joy of PHX Gallery is that most things are for sale. After scheduling an appointment to browse all that’s on offer, guests can join the list of PHX’s clients in purchasing rare and covetable pieces of design history. In fact, it seems that the only person in the gallery who cannot take pieces home is Joachim himself, who declared with admirable restraint: “Curators cannot be collectors.” 

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Seemingly ordinary clothes take on a more astonishing significance upon closer inspections. Image: PHX Gallery
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The Bauhaus Movement’s Complicated Chicago Story

The Art Institute’s centenary exhibit on the Bauhaus provides a refreshingly critical retrospective on the movement’s complicated relationship with Chicago.

Petal Occasional Table by Richard Shultz for Knoll Associates
Petal Occasional Table by Richard Shultz for Knoll Associates

When Nazi Germany forced the Bauhaus school of design in Weimar, Germany to permanently close its doors in 1933, many of its members felt that their revolutionary work in design was unfinished. Resolved to continue the work begun by the Bauhaus and its famed professors, such as Wassily Kandinsky and Walter Gropius, a group of instructors took root in the United States, taking particular interest in Chicago and the American Midwest. Among these transplants were Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and László Moholy-Nagy, who were both invited to teach at the New Bauhaus, now the Institute of Design (ID) at the Illinois Institute of Technology (ITT). Beginning in the mid-1930s, Moholy-Nagy and Mies created a modernist legacy in architecture and the arts with the help of their pupils and contemporaries. Their influence is still deeply felt in Chicago to this day.

 Because the media has extensively covered superstar figures such as Moholy-Nagy and Mies, it is quite refreshing to see an exhibition focused largely on the works of their previously anonymous students, emerging a century after the founding of the original Bauhaus. Importantly, many of the lessons taught at both the original Bauhaus and its American schools dealt with the qualities and characteristics of individual materials, favoring intimate interaction with objects and great design over formal artistic or architectural training. As such, many of the pieces on display in the small but densely populated space at the Art Institute are vaguely architectural but maintain a deeper focus on the simple form and materiality of everyday objects within the industrial context of the 20th century. This philosophy is readily apparent in works such as Institute of Design Foundation Course Wire Exercise, in which a delicate wire-framed sculpture vaguely references industrial hallmarks, like skyscrapers and metalworking. Similarly, Hall of Sport and Culture, Collage, dated from the early 1970s, features a football player, a pair of dancers, and a crowd set within the context of what appears to be a sort of building, itself resting on color blocks. In fact, the work was equally inspired by a building in Detroit as it was by modern art, film, and the emerging technique of collage.

The exhibit also seeks to correct for the historical lack of recognition of the many women who studied in the Chicago Bauhaus schools. One such figure who is featured prominently is Dori Altschuler, whose work during her time at the ID recently received recognition from several national publications, as well as from the journal Arts & Architecture in 1952. Altschuler’s use of recycled shopping bag materials to make architectural sculptures is particularly interesting within the contemporary context of natural resource conservation, as it seems that she—and the Bauhaus movement in general—was well ahead of her contemporaries in understanding the existential threat that urbanism and modernization posed on the planet’s natural resources.

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Flexible Interlocking Structures, Dori (Hahn) Altschuler

Despite their innumerable contributions to design, architecture, and art, the Bauhaus’s insistence on unified, homogenous urban spaces master-planned by privileged Europeans and Americans allowed for the creation of troubling projects, notably on Chicago’s South Side. Enacting a plan that eerily recalls Georges-Eugène Haussmann’s classist transformation of Paris during the 19th century, Mies and IIT demolished large tracts of land on the South Side, displacing large populations of low-income Black families and businesses under the guise of “urban renewal.” The effects of this process are still glaringly obvious today, when the de facto segregation of wealthy, white Chicagoans and low-income Black Chicagoans remains an unsolved issue. Standing almost as an allegorical testament to this shameful period, Mies van der Rohe’s School of Social Service Administration, completed in 1965 for the University of Chicago, sits prominently along 60th Street, which has long represented the border between the vast property of the University and its wealthy inhabitants, and the Woodlawn community occupied primarily by low-income residents of color.

Viewing the contributions and controversies of the Chicago Bauhaus era in equal proportion, Bauhaus in Chicago: Design in the City presents perhaps the most comprehensive and most progressive retrospective on the movement. On view through April 26, 2020 in Gallery 283 of the modern wing, this show is not one to miss.

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Bringing Mexican Mid-century Modernism to the Fore

Ruth Asawa's famous looped-wire sculptures, currently on display at the Art Institute of Chicago.
Ruth Asawa’s famous looped-wire sculptures, currently on display at the Art Institute of Chicago.

For those not well-versed in the history of design, midcentury modernism carries associations with places like Germany, Sweden, and Southern California, but the link between modernism and Mexico is less obvious. The Art Institute of Chicago’s exhibition In a Cloud, in a Wall, in a Chair: Six Modernists in Mexico at Midcenturyseeks to change that. By showcasing the works of six artists (Clara Porset, Ruth Asawa, Cynthia Sargent, Sheila Hicks, Anni Albers, and Lola Álvarez Bravo) who lived or worked in Mexico between 1940 and 1970, this exhibition encourages conversation around Mexico’s contributions to modernism by locating the commonalities between these artists. 

The exhibition takes its name from a quote by Clara Porset, who immigrated to Mexico in 1935 as an exile from Cuba. During her 1952 exhibition, Art In Daily Life, Porset declared, “There is design in everything…in a cloud, in a wall, in a chair, in the sea, in the sand, in a pot.” Along with the other artists on display, Porset was working at a crucial time in Mexico’s design history, a time when the Mexican government was working to establish a recognizable and cohesive design identity.  

Combining traditional Mexican craft methods with newer, technologically driven techniques, Porset took her vision to the public, using furniture to express the daily lives of Mexicans. Porset’s Lounge Chair, for example, was conceived in the 1950s and was used for decades at Acapulco’s famed Pierre Mundo Imperial hotel. One of Porset’s most famous works, the Butaque Chair, infused new life into a traditional Latin American design by incorporating materials such as plant fibers and leather which made the chair suited to Mexico’s different climates. In line with the modernist ideals of the time, Porset also worked to ensure that her versions of the Butaque Chair were mass-producible and affordable. 

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Clara Porset’s Butaque chair, on display at the Art Institute of Chicago.

In contrast to Porset, the works of Ruth Asawa were not primarily functional, but rather overtly sculptural. Like several of the other artists exhibited at the Art Institute, Asawa spent her formative years at Black Mountain College in North Carolina, where she initially began exploring looped wire as a means of creating minimalistic, organic forms. It was only after her move to Mexico that Asawa learned her defining crochet loop technique, initially employed for the creation of egg baskets, but later used to produce wire sculptures. Reminiscent of the movement of water or even a spider’s web, these looped-wire sculptures can be seen hanging from the ceilings of many museums and public spaces, notably the new Whitney Museum in New York. 

Moving on, Cynthia Sargent came into Mexico’s art and design scene in the 1960s after moving away from New York with her husband and artistic collaborator Wendell Riggs. Creating rugs with colorful, flowing, asymmetrical motifs, Sargent aimed to elevate tried and tested Mexican design practices, even contributing some pieces to Porset’s Art In Daily Life. Known also for her business savvy, Sargent founded the Bazaar Sábado in 1960, a weekend place of commerce still in operation, showcasing the works of artists of many places of origin. Sargent and Riggs also worked together to form the eponymous Riggs-Sargent, a company that created scalable lines of fabrics favored among the Mexican elite. As may be obvious in her work, Sargent’s asymmetrical motifs often evoke musical rhythms and were even given titles which referenced the names of famous European composers, a move that helped her gain favor with clients who considered themselves to be worldly.  

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Colorful and asymmetrical motifs on Cynthia Sargent’s rugs, on display at the Art Institute of Chicago.

The show also featured the works of Sheila Hicks, another notable name in Mexico’s mid-century scene. Feeling a connection to Mexico’s strong lineage of weaving, Hicks sought to deconstruct her own pieces to reveal the many parts and individual threads, often pulling apart the threads at the center of each work to allow light to pass through. “Any good weaver would look at this and say, I don’t think this lady knows how to weave,” she said. In Hicks’s works then, it is the means rather than the end—the act of weaving rather than the product woven—that is central to the work. 

Anni Albers, meanwhile, was a student of the revered Bauhaus, now synonymous with functional modernism, visual restraint, and abstraction. Having fled to the United States in 1933, Anni and her husband Josef Albers began teaching at Black Mountain College in North Carolina where she met Porset. Having grown fond of Mexico through Porset, the Alberses visited Mexico several times throughout the 1960s, contributing much to its abstract modern design scene. Notably, Albers realized that the abstract forms and patterns that she adored and created had existed well before her time in Indigenous Mexican and American weaving. Inspired by this history, Albers sought to combine the modern with the ancient in her designs, which were eventually mass produced and sold by Knoll throughout the 1970s. 

Last but surely not least is Lola Álvarez Bravo, whose work stands out even among this distinguished group for both its medium and its message. Álvarez was a modernist in every conceivable meaning of the word: Working in photography throughout the 1950s, Álvarez sought to capture the energy and potential for modernization through photographs depicting Mexico’s industrialization. By collaging separate photographs into photomontages, Álvarez projected her socialist ideals while celebrating both the practical need for industrial modernization and the cultural need to retain Mexico’s longstanding and rich traditional modes of production.  

Alvarez’s work is not only interesting in its expression of socialist and modernist Mexican thought, but also in its placement within the exhibition as a whole. The first thing one sees upon entering the double doors of the gallery is a floor-to-ceiling photomontage in landscape format, depicting industrialists hard at work in the 1950s. These photomontages permeate the entire gallery, constantly contextualizing the work of each artist within the practical concerns of the time of their production, beautifully and thoughtfully synthesizing the idea of industry and production as art. 

It is frankly remarkable to find that only one of the six artists on display was actually born in Mexico. The fact that five modernists between 1940 and 1970 fell so deeply in love with Mexico, its traditions, and their potential for modernist applications serves to highlight the injustice of marginalizing Mexico’s indelible impact on design during this period. Though long overdue, it is a step in the right direction to highlight the culturally and geographically specific contributions of these artists to the greater conversation of what it meant to be modern in 20th-century Mexico. 

In a Cloud, in a Wall, in a Chair: Six Modernists in Mexico at Midcentury is on view until January 12, 2020 in the Modern Wing. 

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