Art stolen...by Discordians?
M. McClellan
the front lobby of its World Corporate Headquarters. Small picture in
article from link:
http://www.seattleweekly.com/features/0025/news-im.shtml
The Seattle Weekly
Published June 22 - 28, 2000
Soiled art
Disturbing paintings stolen from artists' co-op.
BY SOYON IM
"IT'S SO CREEPY to me," says Karen Liebowitz, a 25-year-old artist whose
paintings were recently stolen from SOIL gallery on Capitol Hill. The
four paintings, each approximately 11 by 8 inches, were part of
Liebowitz's current exhibit titled "Chaos and Kiddush," which explores
Jewish mythology, iconography, and narratives. The stolen works were all
studies of a larger painting titled Chaos Bound, featuring a naked woman
lying on her stomach on a seder table with her hands tied with rope and
her mouth gagged with a golden apple. Liebowitz explains the woman is
Eris, the Roman goddess of chaos and discord.
The images of the bound and gagged Eris are beautiful and unsettling,
and members of the SOIL co-op think any number of people might want to
steal the work: an S&M enthusiast, a fundamentalist Jew, or even, as
Liebowitz suspects, a Discordian, someone who worships Eris and believes
in the Principia Discordia, a quasi-religious text purported to be the
work of a time-travelling anthropologist from the 23rd century. But
whoever the thief was, he or she didn't have to struggle; there was no
sign of a break-in. The incident highlights the lack of security at
SOIL. Located in the basement of 1205 Pike Street, SOIL's setup is less
than ideal: The entranceway, a metal door that opens onto a descending
ramp, is shared by two other businesses, a gym and a marketing firm, as
well as a residential apartment. It's an unlikely place for an art
gallery, but for the struggling artists' co-op, it's been a boon. It's
affordable--costs are a constant concern for the co-op, which has moved
three times since its inception in 1995--and it's large enough to house
big installations. It's also drawn more visitors than the previous
location.
Many commercial galleries in Seattle are fitted with burglar alarms and
24-hour surveillance cameras. At the very least, they insure the
artists' works and have someone constantly manning the reception area.
For a small artists' co-op like SOIL, however, such amenities just
aren't within the budget, explains SOIL member Demi Raven. At present,
the group's main source of funding is its members' dues, which are only
$35 a month. But the loss of Liebowitz's works has "opened our eyes to
the situation," says Raven. Now, SOIL has not only installed a
self-locking door, but Liebowitz is taking down many of her smaller
paintings and locking them up in a storage room every evening.
This wasn't SOIL's first case of theft. Last month, a sweatshirt was
stolen from a conceptual art installation done by "Law Office," a
Chicago artists' group. Strangely enough, the more valuable VCR and TV
that were also part of the work were not taken.
Billy Howard, director of Howard House, a commercial gallery in
Belltown, sympathizes with Liebowitz's loss. "I'm absolutely appalled
that someone stole something from a nonprofit space. It's hard enough to
make money in this town [selling art]. I would call [the theft] an act
of vandalism. It's bad karma."