ARTS COMMUNITY COALITION NEVADA

ACCNV PRESS

STONE SOUP

by D.K. Sole

“I don’t know what we’d do without the Art-A-Fair" said the Las Vegas painter Minnie Dobbins in 1983. "The library and Allied Arts Council are to be commended, because local artists have almost nothing here.” The Allied Arts Council came apart in the late 1990s, its successor, the Metro Arts Council of Southern Nevada, hasn’t posted on social media or evidently done anything else since 2018, and the Arts Alive magazine where I read the Dobbins interview ended publication in 1992. Art-A-Fair is gone. An annual juried festival of local artists. Who remembers it? Not me, I wasn’t here.When Karla Lagunas asked me if I wanted to put something in the Desert Biennial Project’s first event, Stone Soup, I said yes. Of course I did. Everything ends but they are starting something, I said to myself. The word “first” seemed significant. There would be more! Voilà, there we were out on the waterless lake, brown hills in the distance, food under an awning, Shahab Zargari setting up a generator, and the porta-potty absent because the person who was supposed to deliver it to Karla’s coordinates instead put it a million miles away among the remote grasses, dunes, weeds, spiders, and ants. But the event was created! People were walking around signaling life and optimism, there was the sky, the artworks were on stands or clotheslines, etcetera.

Roots by Haide Calle

There was a fringed cloth abstraction by Haide Calle hanging from a line, there was a painted face by Nick Giordano, there were elevated balls on chains by Bailey Anderson and Iulia Octavia Filipov-Serediuc, there were Alisha Kerlin’s rolling strings of Christmas decorations, there were Clarice Tara Cuda’s ceramics on wood, there was Ellie Rush’s painting on a tilted stand. Ellie is writing something about the event for Couch in the Desert, so go and read it if it’s out when you see this. Iulia and Bailey were directing artists around. Iulia was setting something up, I think. The light, the space, and so on.

From left to right:
See by Nick Giordano,
The Ol' Ball n' Chain by Iulia Octavia Filipov-Serediuc and Bailey Anderson

The chair of Fine Arts at UNLV says they have a record number of students: meanwhile I hear MFAs wondering what they’re going to do once they graduate. Where is their art going to exist? How are we going to see it? I looked at the ground around my work at Stone Soup.

From left to right:
BAWLING by Alisha Kerlin,
Pussy Petals by Clarice Tara Cuda installed with Fantasize by Maitlyn Holloway, in front of Adriana Chavez' performance piece, Claimed!
Partial Eclipse by Ellie Rush in front of Karla Lagunas' Metatelos III

My thing was low-set, I had to crouch to install it. I was staring at close range. The lake bed was flattish, minutely lumped with tiny grains of matter like an unswept floor, incomprehensible, all similar shades of brown. I was impressed with this earth, although I didn’t know what to do about it. Exhibiting in the open gave me ideas. Look–the reflective surfaces of my tinfoil-covered bottle caps were responding to the sky by turning blue. Inspirational! I should take the work to other parts of the desert and photograph it there. Blue dots among the bushes at Rhyolite, maybe? Bottle caps lie on the ground in the city reacting to feet and cars, why not create a parallel universe where they react to clouds…One day when I was watching one of Yasujirō Ozu’s early movies, Walk Cheerfully, it occurred to me that the shots of striding feet in this film–shots that didn’t seem to have any special purpose–might have been his way of trying to give something an electric charge by focusing our attention on it for a while. In later films he stares at an empty corridor or a room and it becomes potent: I can imagine an essay of ideas behind that decision. Maybe he wouldn’t have reached that point if he hadn’t tried out these unfulfilling images of feet. I imagined that once the film was shown to an audience he had been able to contemplate the effect in action. “Now that I have seen those moving shoes through the eyes of other people I feel that action isn’t what I need,” I pictured him saying to himself. “Wrong somehow. How to fix it? What if I tried the opposite? Stillness? No people? Extreme, but maybe it will work?”

Metal Bottle Caps Discovered in Clark County And Covered With Tin Foil by D.K. Sole

I’m saying all this to suggest that Stone Soup was like Walk Cheerfully, in that it helped
at least one person (me) see that the thing I was doing had other possibilities. We would know ourselves less well with no exhibitions: we might get trapped in an idea that didn’t work if we could only stare at it in a room alone. It helped me to see other people differently too. I’d come across Mary Sabo’s artworks indoors before, and I knew they were typically small, but her size had a new framework of scale when it was out here, contrasted with the hugeness of the landscape. Her “Alchemical Exile (Gambler’s Gold)” was set a short distance away from the rest. I was conscious of needing to travel to it. Without the action of walking I couldn’t see the miniature black ladder coming up from the grey block, or the word written near it, “Frontier.” Now I will think of her other work out there too. What if the patterned mock-fragments from her two-person show with Jim White at ASAP were on a far-away rock?

Alchemical Exile (Gambler's Gold) by Mary Sabo

It was freezing on the lake at night, but Kay Leigh Farley had brought a fire. The ground
did not want to retain the sunlight, having no use for it. Up went the warmth, flying away
from us. The desert is a minimalist, it is always removing things. Las Vegas as a civic entity behaves like this towards the visual arts: it believes they are not necessary, it will let them evaporate.* The darkness was all over the place, full of air. Breathing, we stood there in our chemical reaction of light, all of us made of the same materials as the wider universe which was shooting off into the void, whatever that is. Keeva Lough’s performance with a projector was illuminated thanks to Shahab’s generator. Shahab’s struggle with the generator might not make it into the pictures on this website so I might as well mention it here.

Ad Hoc Babel by Keeva Lough

Karla served food. That might not be on the website either, so I will mention it too. The putting-up of the awning and the food underneath. All that work the organizers did so we could eat something. I was moved by the complexity of events they had caused to happen. It was a different tempo from collecting my bottle caps. I walk, I pick them up, I sit and cover them with tinfoil. “I’m hoping we get more projects like this. I just hope people have more opportunities to share their work and be around each other,” Geovany Uranda wrote after Stone Soup, echoing the feelings of Minnie Dobbins, who, in 1983, wanted more than the “almost nothing” she saw around her.

East Las Vegas Golden Bearpoppy (and Mojave Poppy Bee by Geo

Her colleague Cindy McCoy** refers to only “two city galleries, Reed Whipple and Charleston Heights.” Reed Whipple is a vacant lot now, but Charleston Heights is still here. Currently they have a ceramics show called Functional Can Be Fun. I should go and see it.

*to clarify, I’m not talking about individual people who work in the arts for the City of Las Vegas or Clark County. More power to them. I mean the urban region as a whole.
**Minnie Dobbins and Cindy McCoy were interviewed in numbers 3 and 4 of the 1983 issues of Arts Alive.

From left to right:
Adriana Performs as Juan Chico, Claimed! near the communal soup tent and generator
Stone Soup and Desert Biennial Signage

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Economy + Jobs

The U.S. Bureau of Economic Analysis (BEA) reports that the nation’s arts and culture sector—nonprofit, commercial, education—is a $1.02 trillion industry that supports 4.9 million jobs (2021). That is 4.4% of the nation’s economy—a larger share of GDP than powerhouse sectors such as construction, transportation, and agriculture. Americans for the Arts, 2022.

Between 2020 and 2021, the total economic value added by arts and cultural industries grew by 13.7 percent. This surpasses the increase of the total U.S. economy, which grew by 5.9 percent in the same period. NEA, 2023.

In 2021, just under 4.9 million workers were employed to produce arts and cultural goods and services, for $504.2 billion in total compensation. (BEA, 2023). NEA, 2023.

The impact of this economic activity is far reaching, supporting 2.6 million jobs, generating $29.1 billion in tax revenue, and providing $101 billion in personal income to residents Americans for the Arts, 2022.

For FY 21-22, Nevada legislators allocated $1,953,818 to the Nevada Arts Council to match federal grants. That year, arts nonprofits in NV generated $156,253,527 in total tax revenue. That’s a $80 in return for every $1 spent! (AEP6)

Pride of Place

89% of attendees agreed that the activity or venue they were attending was “a source of neighborhood pride for the community.” Americans for the Arts, 2022.

Studies have shown that arts and music education have had a statistically significant impact on chronic absenteeism in schools - particularly elementary and mid- dle schools. (NAMM Foundation)

Place-based arts and culture create social cohesion and community wellbeing. (WE-Making report - NEA, Kresge Foundation)

Community Building

78% of the population say the arts are a “positive experience in a troubled world,” 69% of the population believe the arts “lift me up beyond everyday experiences,” and 71% feel the arts give them “pure pleasure to experience and participate in.” Americans for the Arts, 2022.

72% of Americans believe, “The arts provide shared experiences with people of different races, ethnicities, ages, beliefs, and identities (gender, political, national origin),” and 73% agree that the arts “helps me understand other cultures better.” Americans for the Arts, 2022.

In 2022, nonprofit arts and culture organizations and their audiences generated $151.7 billion in economic activity—$73.3 billion in spending by the organizations, which leveraged an additional $78.4 billion in event-related spending by their audiences (Americans for the Arts, 2022).Americans for the Arts, 2022.

Tourism

One-third (30.1%) of attendees travel from outside the county in which the activity takes place; they spend an average of $60.57, twice that of their local counterparts ($29.77). Americans for the Arts, 2022.

Lane Sheehy - At last
Wood board, paint
You don’t look at the vase in the corner at my house. You don’t look at any of the other things that sit dusted. I don’t look at the vase in the corner, I look at the room. Nothing about this room is sacred or special. There’s always an excess and a replacement and another one and another one; the vase, the men, the ashes. I tore up my mother’s floorboards and painted them white. She taught me the most about living in a domestic setting, her lessons often included knowing when to talk and what to say and sometimes when to say no. I created this piece through my mother and my husband and the spaces they’ve provided me as I shed family life. The house feels more like a pen than a homespace when you’re alone. It’s more comfortable to sit alone than in a corner.

John McVay - Information Leakage
Found materials
I’m an artist that works in collage and assemblage, methods that utilize found objects. Sometimes I need to go searching for new materials to add to my arsenal, new options for monstrous hybrid objects constructed in my mad laboratory. I go Goodwill hunting, the best place for a chance encounter with a random object that could become a piece of an assemblage. The element of chance and the thrill of the hunt keep me circling back, you never know what you're gonna get! My assemblage combines deconstructed stuffed animals and loose cassette tape that I’ve purchased from thrift stores like Goodwill. These items will be crafted into a furry blob/puddle that's leaking or oozing a pool of cassette tape out of an opening like it’s blood. It's called “Information Leakage”.

McKenzie Easter - Duffle Bag Dog
Acrylic on found figure
My name is McKenzie S. Easter, I was born and raised in Newport News, Virginia, and have lived in Las Vegas, Nevada for the past 10 years. I am an artist concentrating in sculpture and assemblage — almost always using found object(s) within my work. These materials have innately influenced my practice; as every found object generally demands its own explanation, they might also embrace the opportunity to transform into something that has a different meaning entirely. As these precious objects have found their way into my work I have continued frequenting thrift stores like Goodwill (often multiple times a week). When I enter this sacred place I leave my past at the door — because I am here to find treasure: something someone didn’t want that can bring my mind to another world. These spaces not only benefit our communities but also serve to inspire artists at any or all points in their endeavor to create something meaningful.

Leilu Hart - My Body My Blood
Found Objects
I was raised in a very religious household. At church, I was taught to suppress my sexuality and trained to be a traditional wife. To be a woman that pleased her husband and would birth his god-loving children. Coming into my sexuality and gender identity as I grew older was increasingly difficult and confusing. I felt as if my body and soul was not mine. The guilt of disbelief loomed over my conscious. Using discarded items from Goodwill, I’ve recreated a religious altar like the ones I saw in so many homes growing up. These items are all left behind from their former owners, no longer needed or wanted. I see them as a physical representation of my old way of thinking. Of me leaving my past behind and growing into my new self. As I continue to create art, I am coming into my sexuality and expressing myself. I feel free to create and make mistakes.

Keeva Lough - Sissy Boy Syndrome Study (Prehomosexual)
Microscope, a negative
In my art, such as Sissy Boy Syndrome Study (Prehomosexual), I combine found objects from thrift stores with photographs to tell narratives about queerness. There are several reasons why I use thrifted materials in my artwork. My work is very nostalgic and autobiographical. It gives me a mix of pleasure and melancholy to see familiar things from my childhood: the overhead projectors, cathode ray televisions, and out-of-date textbooks that would be thrown away if it weren’t for thrift stores. The microscope used in Sissy Boy Syndrome Study reminds me of childhood science glass.
I also like to use vintage educational supplies because my art has to do with systems of knowledge. How do we teach people what is “normal?” The objects I recognize from my childhood are symbolic of both institutional oppression and the opportunity for liberation through learning. As a feminine child, I was often shamed for crying. As adults tried to enforce traditional gender roles upon me, I felt placed under a microscope. Can I symbolically take back my power by making this metaphor literal and absurd?
Finally, I care about sustainability. If an object already exists, we should use it before making something new. Using supplies thrifted from stores like Goodwill is important to me because finding new uses for old objects is an important part of protecting the environment by cutting down on the waste clogging our landfills.
Using thrifted art supplies isn’t just good for the environment and your bank balance. It also opens up powerful opportunities for story-telling and human connection. This is at the forefront of my mind every time I scan a thrift store shelf for the building blocks of my next project.

Lille Allen - Untitled
Stained glass, glass plates, found plastic, lead cane
For years, I have collected trash, bits and pieces of people’s lives. Grocery lists, old photographs, bits of broken glass. When I put found objects together in a piece, I hope to make a record of our time spent living, a record of our presence on this earth. I hope to make what is discarded precious.

Iulia Filipov-Serediuc - 34.94818° N, -116.68449° W
Archival inkjet print, found wood, found velvet
Repurposed and formerly discarded materials are at the forefront of my sculptural practice, with the history and context of the material being fundamental in the meaning, narrative, and final outcome of any piece. For this piece, the figure was made with trash and wrapped in reclaimed pieces of fabric, and its armature consisting of reused PVC pipes from the scraps of a house construction. The frame was built with scrap wood that was reclaimed and the velvet, my grandma's skirt she no longer had use for. Every aspect of the work was influenced by the materials used, their own stories and histories becoming integral to the experience of both making the work and viewing it. I consider the reality that nothing exists within a vacuum and my use of repurposed materials breathes life into and adds character to my work.
Print of installation with frame made of found wood

¡Katie B Funk! - And It Opened Up My Eyes
Wood, brad nails, canvas, spray foam, hot glue, acrylic, pom poms
Recently, my work has seemingly taken on a life of its own. Rather than carefully planning each part and process beforehand, I allow room for materials to talk to one another and gel, letting improvisational tactics decide how relationships should form. I create under an umbrella of play, utilizing a self-defined concept called CRONCHH. This dual process of hard and soft calls for all things cheap, lo-fi, brash, kitschy, happysad, crafty, organic, monstrous, beautiful, and abandoned. Stores like Goodwill foster a fantastic opportunity for artists to think creatively about the materials they choose to work through. Every visit to a store is an opportunity to discover treasures for you that someone else deemed disposable to them. These discarded materials offer a second life, allowing for unexpected transformations that align with my CRONCHH ethos, celebrating imperfections, contradictions, and overlooked aesthetics. With a CRONNCH perspective at the helm, I eagerly await all future finds.

Bailey Anderson - SCRAM!
Dinner plates, solder
My name is Bailey Anderson, an artist born and raised in Las Vegas, Nevada. My work mostly revolves around sculpture and focuses on culture in 20th-century America. I utilize found objects and materials that inspire my work, forming a symbiotic relationship between myself and the work. I let the objects that I collect inspire me and push me in different creative directions. When I created these plates, I was thinking about the cartoon-esque Tom and Jerry plates smashing against the wall. Being a particularly comical event in my childhood, I evaluate how things change when they exit the state of being a cartoon. Reassembling them through the same process as stained glass elevates the broken material to something new and reimagined. Having found all these plates at Goodwill, I developed an attachment with many of them, especially those that didn’t have the rest of the set to accompany them.

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