It was not your typical art opening.
That was evident when one guy, quite possibly under the influence of something, began yelling at the paintings on the wall. As his two buddies tried to calm him down, a couple of burly guys, on hand just in case this sort of thing happened, hustled the yeller out the front door.
“We usually don’t have to bounce people,” explained Susan Petr, president of Atlas Galleries.
But that sort of thing can happen when the worlds of rock ‘n’ roll and art collide.
Jefferson Airplane’s singer and icon Grace Slick, far from your typical 63-year-old, was in town last week to sell her paintings and drawings at the Atlas Galleries location at 900 N. Michigan Ave.
Born in Evanston, best remembered for her anthem of the ’60s, “White Rabbit,” Slick brought in an interesting mix of people. Aging hippies rubbed shoulders with serious art collectors. Head bangers sipped free champagne with little old ladies who obviously thought it was going to be just another art opening.
“It’s a different crowd and she certainly is a colorful personality,” Petr continued. “And I’ll be perfectly honest — it’s not just art, it’s also part of the collectibles market. Here you have something that Grace spent a lot of time and effort working on, plus it has her signature. So it’s falling into two different categories.”
Some would argue that it only belongs in one category.
Wall Street Journal art critic David Littlejohn, for instance, calls Slick’s work “terrible,” adding “she looks absolutely self-taught.” But as a line of would-be buyers lined up to meet her at Atlas Galleries, Slick — still a striking woman with her snow-white hair and steel blue eyes–shrugged off the criticism in her, um, unique way. “I basically don’t give a . . . what they say because I’m not in the so-called art world,” she said. “I would prefer that people come in and buy something because it says something to them, and occasionally they do. But I have absolutely no idea. I just whip this stuff up and if somebody likes it, fine. If they don’t, I don’t give a . . . I’d be doing this anyway.”
And making money at it. Slick’s acrylic paintings (“I don’t have time to fart around with oil”) and ink drawings are priced between $1,000 and $15,000. Most of her subjects are from an era she knows quite well: the psychedelic ’60s. You’ll find paintings of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jerry Garcia,a group Slick jokingly calls “the dead guys.” There also are paintings of Sting and Joni Mitchell, to name a few.
“`This is pop art in the sense of the words `popular art,'” Slick said, sounding like a critic. “It’s not goofy. You don’t have to sit there and go, `What the hell is that?’ You know what it is. It’s right in your face. It’s rock ‘n’ roll. Rock ‘n’ roll is simple and it’s blunt. The same person who sings rock ‘n’ roll is probably going to draw like that.”
Which is what drew people to Atlas Galleries, which carries Slick’s artwork at its 900 N. Michigan Ave. and 535 N. Michigan Ave. locations through the end of November. This was all about Slick and the subjects of her paintings.
“I grew up with these people,” said Noula Kotsopodis”I’ve seen Janis Joplin. I’ve seen Jim Morrison. I’ve seen the Grateful Dead. I’ve seen all the people she’s painted. I grew up in the whole hippie era and made the scene, traveled and did a lot of the same things she did. She is the queen of rock ‘n’ roll, there is no doubt about it.”
Yeah, Slick could party with the best of them.
She boozed it up and did her share of drugs with the late Joplin. She once threatened to lace President Nixon’s tea with acid. But that was long ago. You won’t find Slick, who says she quit the music business full time more than 10 years ago, touring with remnants of Jefferson Airplane or Jefferson Starship.
A gentleman who resembled a thin Garcia, sporting a worn jean jacket with a “Nader-LaDuke” campaign button, tried to convince Slick to go back on the road (“I don’t like to see old fat people on stage — or old thin people on stage,” she quipped). Slick is content to live in Malibu, Calif., spending most of her time painting. But she doesn’t mind talking about the old days. Her white hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing a suede jacket, Slick gladly chatted with people who weren’t particularly interested in her art, but were there just to meet her.
After all, to some on hand, this had nothing to do with the art. It was more about the music, man. “The art world is very intimidating to people, but rock ‘n’ roll isn’t,” said 46-year-old Susan Sloan. “I’m just hanging out until someone throws me out because my jaw is about to drop to the floor at the chance to meet her.”
That’s fine with Slick, who might be turning people on to art who otherwise wouldn’t be interested. Critics, be damned.
“I think it’s like if you’re a dentist and you pick up a guitar and manage to play a song all the way through,” she said. “That’s partially what happens with my art. People just might be impressed that I’m actually trying to do this. And I don’t know or care what the serious critics are saying because this isn’t serious art.”
