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BY MEGAN BONKE
\r\n\r\nFor this second edition of Realizing Realism, I spoke with Gwendolyn Zabicki. Working from both photographs and life, Zabicki creates paintings that illustrate the aesthetic difference between these two starting points.
\r\n","body":"BY MEGAN BONKE
\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nIn my first interview with Josh Moulton, a strictly photorealism painter, I asked, “What future value does realism hold in the art world?” Moulton’s answer is in the success and sustainability of his gallery and client base.
\r\n\r\nFor this second edition of Realizing Realism, I spoke with Gwendolyn Zabicki. Working from both photographs and life, Zabicki creates paintings that illustrate the aesthetic difference between these two starting points. Life paintings introduce an element of time that a photo cannot. Cool time-lapse photography elements are available in our smart phones, but paintings take time to create, even when a painter is attempting a gestural en plein air technique like that of the Impressionists. Time influences decisions about lighting, shadow, or even color as the painter rushes towards completion.
\r\n\r\nOne of my favorite examples of time displayed through a painting is Debora Mancoff’s explanation of Manet’s A Bar at the Folies Bergères.
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Looking at the painting, there is discernible discrepancy between the barmaid’s position, which is directly facing the audience, and her reflection in the mirror behind her, where it seems she would have to be turned slightly away from the viewer for the reflection to be sincere. There are many theories for this move in Manet’s artistic license. Mancoff hypothesizes that Manet was attempting to convey the point of view of the man in the top hat, also in the reflection, passing the barmaid as he walked by the bar. A moment in time shows the barmaid facing the viewer across the bar; as you walk by, her body turns with you, altering the reflection in the mirror a moment later.
\r\n\r\nWhen a painter works from a photograph they lose the ability to make these spontaneous little choices. The photograph gives the perspective of one eye, the camera’s. The camera is making color, lighting, and edge decisions that take place in one very brief moment.
\r\n\r\nWhy would a painter use photographs at all? In this conversation, Zabicki answers this question better than I can.
\r\n\r\nAs part of her regular art practice Zabicki started South Logan Arts Coalition (SLAC) to utilize empty spaces in her community and help emerging artists show their work. She also teaches at Lillstreet Art Center and curates the Lillstreet Artist Lecture Series that occur on the final Tuesday of each month. The lectures are free and open to the public.
\r\n\r\nZabicki describes her work as “quiet”, which is a word I hear often from representational still life painters. What drew me to her work was her nighttime series of windows and houses. These works contain a creepy stillness, but the quiet element doesn’t seem meek and shy, as much as voyeuristic, thus requiring careful stillness and silence. The darkest points of the paintings are vivacious and energetic. Zabicki utilizes these dark voids to build space and explore texture. Her most recent series of wrapped presents create a similar tension as her house windows. As a viewer I want to know what is beyond what I am allowed to see. Zabicki continues to explore texture and adds an element of pattern from the wrapped presents she chooses to work from. This is a brand new series for the artist, and it’s exciting to see where she will take it.
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MB: Where you are from?
\r\n\r\nGZ: I grew up in Andersonville in Chicago. I went to boarding school in the suburbs: Lake Forest Academy. It was beautiful and a great education. I was with some super wealthy suburban kids. I was really self-conscious because I couldn’t afford fancy clothes, so I went the opposite direction and became this sad Goth. All of those photos are embarrassing, but that’s what you do at that age.
\r\n\r\nPersonal life: you have a boyfriend, right?
\r\n\r\nI always say that I’m too old to call him my boyfriend. He’s my "manfriend." We’ve been together for five years, and we own a home together. We want to do everything in the wrong order: buy the house, have a kid, get married, get a cat. That’s the plan. Then people will say, ‘Are you really ready for a cat?’
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Where was the last place you traveled?
\r\n\r\nI was in Stockholm just in February because I had some paintings in a show. It’s great if you can show far away make a vacation out of it. Stockholm is beautiful. I was not expecting there to be so many children. Everyone - young, old, men, women - is pushing a stroller and has three, sometimes four, kids, which is a lot. They have so many great social programs: you get 18 months paid maternity leave; your job is guaranteed for you when you come back. Daycare is free and college is free and healthcare is free. So people must have a ton of kids because, well, it’s not such a struggle there.
\r\n\r\nWhat has been your training in the arts?
\r\n\r\nI got my Bachelors at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC). Then I got my Masters at University of Illinois in Chicago in 2012. I’ve been painting for around ten years. I started in high school, but I wasn’t serious. My advisor at the time, Susy Stevens, told me, ‘You don’t want to go to art school. You’re going to regret it and be miserable. You won’t have any job skills.’
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So when you went into SAIC, what was your practice like?
\r\n\r\nSAIC doesn't make you pick a major—you can take any kind of class you want. So, I took filmmaking, furniture design, and all kinds of stuff all over the board. My sophomore year I was very influenced by an urban landscape painting class I took with Judy Koon.
\r\n\r\nHow has your practice grown and developed since graduate school or in graduate school?
\r\n\r\nIt made me a much better painter having two solid years of making work. You just make work. And you meet people. Then you have tons of studio visits with visiting artists but also with the faculty and with your peer group.
\r\n\r\nI had a horrible studio visit with Molly Zuckerman Hartung, who’s really blown up lately. But I knew her when she was at the School of the Art Institute. I was living in an apartment with a friend named Caleb, and I moved out and she took my spot on the lease. So when she came to do the studio visit I said, ‘Oh, hey! How’s it going? How’s Caleb?’ I thought we were going to have this real friendly talk. Instead, I had the worst studio visit. She hated my painting.
\r\n\r\nShe was like, ‘Your painting is boring and stifled.’ She said all these awful things. However, she loved my Halloween costume. I was working on a sandwich board, and it was a sanitary napkin dispenser. I went to a thrift store that had all of these sanitary napkins boxes from the eighties. The woman on the box—she had a rose in her hands—kind of had her head to the side, and she looked really bummed out to be menstruating. I loved these, and I just wanted to give them to people. So, I made this sanitary napkin dispenser outfit, and I could launch them from my costume at people. And she was like, ‘That’s what you should be making! This is the kind of work that’s interesting and challenging. You launch sanitary napkins out of your crotch. This is what you should be doing.’
\r\n\r\nI was like, ‘Oh. Ohhhh.’ I wasn’t weeping. I didn’t cry, but I felt like crying.
\r\n\r\nLooking back, I know she was right. My work has improved since, and she might even be responsible for some of that. A bad critique can be good for you, even though it is the most painful, awful thing at the time.
\r\n\r\n![\"\"](\"https://s3.amazonaws.com/chigal/rich/rich_files/rich_files/334/original/wecantalkaboutitlater.jpg\")
What are some misconceptions/stereotypes about art students or art school?
\r\n\r\nThat’s a good question. Misconceptions would be that they’re—oh I don’t know—that there are very few super special, naturally gifted geniuses in the art world. That's just not true. Genuine artistic value comes from hard work. The quality of the classes at the Art Institute was really dependent on the other students in the class with you.
\r\n\r\nWhat was your greatest lesson learned from art school?
\r\n\r\nI remember my freshman year I took art history survey course with Robert Loescher. He was the first person who made art history sound sexy, relevant and exciting for me. I remember thinking that no one ever talked to me that way before. It was just one of those survey classes in a big dark lecture hall with a hundred other people, but he was so charming.
\r\n\r\nWhen I was older I found T.J. Clark and his writing. I feel like Robert Loescher is in the same boat as T.J. Clark. It doesn’t even matter if what they’re saying is true; it’s just so compelling. T.J. Clark wrote this book called The Sight of Death: An Experiment in Art Writing where he spent two months staring at these two giant Poussin paintings every day, and he’d write down his thoughts and new observations about them. His insights were rooted in his vast knowledge of art combined with crazy extrapolations about what the artist was thinking and feeling: impossible to prove, but compelling and humanizing. I learned that it is okay to use one's own experiences and self-knowledge to understand a work of art.
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Tell me about your art process, and how you feel about working from photographs versus real life.
\r\n\r\nWell, photos are a means of convenience. Especially in Chicago, it’s just too damn cold to be outside. I know a great painter who paints outside regardless of the temperature. Her name is Greta Waller, and she painted icebergs in Antarctica. She’s tough and makes me feel bad about myself.
\r\n\r\nI have a little box easel. It’s one of those wooden ones that are pretty much unchanged since the Impressionists. I take it out, walk around and set up someplace. I do use photos as a reference, and sometimes it's the most practical option—for instance [that painting is] from a photo because it’s in a car. Other works - the box of candy is from life.
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The window paintings are from life, but there are some limitations. Most of the window paintings are pretty small. They were an interesting challenge because most of them are at night. Chicago has this orange street light. When you’re looking at your paint outside, and it’s dark, all of the colors are kind of skewed. But there are certain things, like I know the way I lay out my palette, and I know if mix this color and this color they will look this way. So I’m painting based sort of on what I know to be true, but also I would take my phone out from time to time, turn it on and hold it over the paint so I could see what am I doing. The paintings are done on the spot. Then I take them inside, and I was usually a little surprised. Like with this one, I was a little surprised when I got this inside.
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What surprised you about Humboldt Blvd. 8:30-9:30pm?
\r\n\r\nI remember I didn’t think it was so streaky. I thought it was darker and these windows were a different color.
\r\n\r\nI find the light really striking in all of the dark window paintings.
\r\n\r\nI was in my old apartment looking from my kitchen windows into my neighbors’ living room windows. I watched them watch Jeopardy. Next Door Neighbor was a big one because I could set up inside, and that was nice because the light in my own house was less skewed.
\r\n\r\n![\"\"](\"https://s3.amazonaws.com/chigal/rich/rich_files/rich_files/340/original/nextdoorneighbor.jpg\")
It has to be a process to set up anywhere, to move your paints and basically your studio.
\r\n\r\nYou get better and better. Most of my paints fit inside my box easel, and I usually have a backpack with a lot of plastic bags and clean and dirty rags. It’s probably like packing a diaper bag for your kid. You know what you need, you always have it with you, and you can take it and go. It’s pretty efficient and inconspicuous. I don’t take up a lot of space.
\r\n\r\nHave you ever had a problem with licensing?
\r\n\r\nNo. At night, no one has ever stopped to ask what I’m doing or noticed me or complained or called the police. During the day people will stop and say, ‘What are you doing?’ But generally at night, no one cares.
\r\n\r\n![\"\"](\"https://s3.amazonaws.com/chigal/rich/rich_files/rich_files/339/original/redchristmas.jpg\")
As photography has developed, how has that affected painting?
\r\n\r\nI think it’s just a wonderful tool to make better paintings. I have made paintings from life, photos and cell phone photos, too. I love my amazing phone. It’s inconspicuous enough if you’re standing outside and taking a photo with your phone nobody cares. It’s such a different thing if you’re standing outside with a really big camera. I just bought this really nice digital camera for the Stockholm trip. I wouldn’t point this thing at somebody’s house, but I would take a cell phone photo for reference. I feel like it’s less invasive.
\r\n\r\n![\"\"](\"https://s3.amazonaws.com/chigal/rich/rich_files/rich_files/341/original/present.jpg\")
Was the painting Present done from a photo or from life?
\r\n\r\nIt was done from both. I had this still life set up, but it wasn’t on this table. I took a photo of it on my wooden coffee table, and I liked it. It was sunny, and the wood was kind of reflective. Photography is just one more tool. You can use it, and I think if Vermeer could have had a really nice camera he would have used it. Vermeer used camera obscura and so did Caravaggio.
\r\n\r\nI actually have a camera lucida right here, which is a great traditional tool. The camera lucida is a prism, and it’s on a little stand. You look through the prism down at your drawing, and you can simultaneously see your drawing and also the subject. It takes some practice, but people have been using it since the 17th century. If you wanted to do a really precise little portrait you could use the camera lucida, and it would save you so much time and so much work especially if you were doing it for a living like these guys. You would use all of your tools.
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This has a lot to do with your bad studio visit: I often find artists begin with observation or representation, and then they change direction and move to something more conceptual or expressionist or abstract. They often feel like they need to explain this transition saying that realism is false, overplayed, or irrelevant.
\r\n\r\nYeah. I definitely feel like realism in painting is so out of fashion, and it’s lonely. I felt lonely in grad school. There were very few painters in my program, and the painters that were showing work in galleries were making—what do they call it? —Casualism? It’s minimal, geometric, abstract painting. Jerry Saltz tried to give it the name Neo Mannerism in an essay that’s really bitchy and fantastic: Art's Insidious New Cliché: Neo Mannerism. I think people are in that stage now of ‘What do we call this thing?’ And you see it. It’s at the Whitney right now. It was at Art Chicago. Again Jerry Saltz nails it in Why Do New Abstract Paintings Look The Same?
\r\n\r\nIn school I saw a lot of students come in to the program making representational work. Then they had a few rough critiques and started making this really process-based, obtuse, conceptual work. The end result was safe, plain, and cool. There was plenty of art-speak, but not much to look at. They went this route because it was harder for the faculty to critique. When you safeguard yourself from criticisms of technique or the visual component of the work, no one can say, ‘Well, you know, that shadow is too dark,’ or, ‘This corner looks sloppy.’ Everyone gets exhausted from the mental gymnastics required to have a conversation. It’s a defensive maneuver.
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So what kept you from following that trend? It’s an obvious trend. There’s a lot of push to say, ‘Well you’ve got all of these creative ideas. Do something outside of 2-D work, and then if you’re going to do 2-D work, do something that’s not observational.’
\r\n\r\nI just love painting so much. It would hurt me to not do it. There are people still doing representational work, and we just keep at it. We’re just like, ‘I don’t care. I’m just going to keep doing what I do. And someday you will all be back. I’ll be smug and arrogant, and I’ll just say I told you so.’
\r\n\r\nHow and when did you first start exhibiting work?
\r\n\r\nI still feel self-conscious that I don’t show enough, and I haven’t had any substantial shows. I think I got a couple of juried shows and smaller things in between grad and undergrad. I started showing more recently because I know more people. People know who I am because I curated the Milwaukee Arts Festival, and I have been running SLAC. I’ve organized some pop-up shows and met a lot of people through Lillstreet and through grad school. If you do big projects, you meet other artists, and more people become aware of you.
\r\n\r\nI have a show coming up at Comfort Station. I write so many proposals and apply for so many grants/jobs/residencies. I have submitted nineteen applications this year already and will probably receive two acceptances. Doing it repeatedly makes you better at it. Some shows come out of nowhere. I had some paintings in a show at North Park University, and they found my work Internet somewhere.
\r\n\r\n![\"\"](\"https://s3.amazonaws.com/chigal/rich/rich_files/rich_files/345/original/guilded.jpg\")
What’s your experience with Lillstreet been like? What benefits have they provided for you?
\r\n\r\nI applied for the artist in residence program at Lillstreet Art Center when I was finishing grad school, and I got it. It’s a year long residency. They give you a studio and a stipend, and you can teach there if you want to. That gave me some really nice structure after grad school. Getting out of school is a scary time, and you start questioning, ‘What am I doing with my life? Maybe Susy Stevens was right, and art school was a terrible idea.’ But Lillstreet was great, and they were really generous and kind. The number of people that work at Lillstreet is very small. I asked Bruce or Eric (they are the guys in charge), ‘Hey can I start a lecture series?’
\r\n\r\nThey were really permissive. ‘Oh sure. Go for it.’
\r\n\r\nI still teach there. I think it’s hard to make a living teaching, but teaching makes you a better artist because you have to keep revisiting those beginner-building-block rules of painting. Lillstreet is a traditional kind of school. Like when I teach a class I show them, ‘This is how you use sighting and measuring to draw a still life, and this is how I would do it.’ Sometimes I make a painting in front of a group of people, and it’s a total failure. ‘Oh no. Well don’t paint it like this.’
\r\n\r\nI still have a studio though I’m no longer an artist in residence. There are four new artists in residence: two in ceramics, one in metals, and one in textiles. I manage the events and things related to the artist in residence program. I still do the lecture series, and that’s been fun for me. In addition to the lecture, visiting artists will conduct studio visits. I invite artists who will specifically benefit one of the artists in residence.
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What goals do you have for yourself in the art world?
\r\n\r\nI would like to keep making my paintings and keep getting better and better. And I feel like I have. When I changed my website around the other day, I was looking at my old work and then my new work and thought, ‘I am so much better than I used to be. I used to suck.’ I am not even at the height of my painting powers yet. Can I make a perfect painting?
\r\n\r\nOh, I have a list I keep it in my notebook. To Do List 2014: paint (more), curate (more), show (more), more SLAC, maintain health, don’t ignore your friends, teach/fun job, do more residencies, lecture series, apply for lots of things, learn to drive, write letters to John Kiriakou, make money somehow. I have never made more than I think 24,000 dollars in a year. I didn’t get into this to make money I guess. No one ever does.
\r\n\r\nWhat has been a struggle or disappointment about choosing art as a career?
\r\n\r\nSupport. There is so much arts funding in Sweden. I talked to a lot of the Swedes there, and they were like, ‘Oh yeah. It’s really easy. You just ask the government for money, and you can get it.’ They had this beautiful building for the show I was in and all of these slick promotional materials and advertisements downtown. They didn’t have to hustle and go find some corporate sponsor for their fair. Sweden is a very special case.
\r\n\r\nI believe we need more opportunities for artists here. That is the reason I started SLAC. All of my friends moved back to their homes because they missed their families, or they moved to New York or LA because they felt like that’s where the real opportunities are. So I asked them, ‘Well what could I do for you? What could make you stay?’
\r\n\r\nA lot of them said, ‘A job.’ ‘A studio.’
\r\n\r\nI thought maybe I could help with the studio. There are some pretty exciting things out there. Theaster Gates is building artist housing in the Greater Grand Crossing neighborhood and we have Mana Contemporary and Chicago Artist Coalition, but we need more. I would love for the Department of Cultural Affairs or somebody at the City to step up and fill this void. Do you remember Cultural Plan 2012? I'm still waiting for the Department of Cultural Affairs to figure out a way to accomplish some of those goals.
\r\n\r\nI just joined the board of Autotelic Studios. Autoelic's mission is to provide affordable, accessible workspace, facilities and opportunities for artists in the city. We are about to begin working on a new project in Logan Square.
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I am a young representational artist who is getting started. What advice do you have for me?
\r\n\r\nThat’s a good question too. Keep painting. Don’t give in and make work that looks trendy. That is the other thing that baffles me, too; when you adopt a trend, you must be conscious of it, and can you be okay with that? That feels inauthentic to me; it didn’t come from you. You’ll look back on it one day, and it will look dated. I am always surprised how people square themselves with that.
\r\n\r\nMy advice to you is to be brave. Master your technique. Read about materials. Find or make a community to be a part of—to plan shows with and to give each other feedback. You can only get better by practicing. When I teach painting I notice that the metaphors I use to describe painting are always violent ones, ‘wrestle the edge into place… push, force, make that object lie down.’ They describe a struggle, but a good struggle. That’s what painting is.
\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nYou can see Zabicki's work in her upcoming show at Comfort Station, July 1-25.
\r\nOpening reception on July 11, 5-8pm.
Fall offers a full slate of exhibitions across galleries and museums throughout the Midwest. Behind the scenes, many people in the community are working tirelessly to support artists and bring fresh perspectives to the public. We spoke with five insiders about what excites them now and what they anticipate next.
The following preview is one of five conversations that appear in CGN's Fall 2026 magazine. To receive a copy of the print edition click here.
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“I’m thrilled to further expand my artistic and design practice by introducing other mediums into the mix. I’m looking forward to watching the seasons change and devoting a lot of time in the studio as well. Fall/winter is my favorite time to create new works.
I have an upcoming solo show with VSG Contemporary that I am excited about. The work will delve further into the topics of cultural mythology and how these tales and narratives have helped shape my worldview.
Also, it wouldn’t be right if I left out my excitement for this upcoming season of Chicago sports.”
![](\"https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1788961823/s3lp0uull2s8mvd8funj.jpg\")
Andi Crist, Extension Cords, Glazed stoneware, chrome, Sizes vary 2021-present. Photo: Mikey Mosher
This interview is part of CGN's Fall 2026 issue. Purchase a copy or subscribe.
![](\"https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1788961824/mghrpnghxd9j9ko2dsjt.jpg\")
Andi Crist
BY ALISON REILLY
Andi Crist’s warm, engaging demeanor is evident in the first few minutes of our conversation. Generous with her time and forthcoming in her observations, she cares deeply about building relationships through her art making. Crist grew up in Birmingham, Alabama, devoured art classes, wrote songs and played music in high school, and moved to Chicago to study visual art at Columbia College. In 2024, she received her MFA from the University of Illinois at Chicago. She is a woodworker, sculptor, ceramicist, and conceptual artist, and she teaches at Illinois Institute of Technology. We discussed her multidisciplinary practice, her experience working as an art handler, preparator, and fabricator, and how she thinks about labor, creativity, and value in the art world.
CGN: You grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. How did that environment shape your point of view as an artist?
Andi Crist: That’s such a funny question. Nobody’s ever really asked.
CGN: Oh, really?
AC: Yeah, maybe because I never was super connected with the arts community down in Birmingham. I moved to Chicago in 2007, so it’s been 20 years since I lived in the South. I was definitely one of those art kids—one art credit was required in high school, and I graduated with like seven. I was surrounded by artists who had a big impact on me, because they were working artists. All my art teachers were trained in Alabama and then continued to teach and work in Alabama, which gave me this desire to try to expand my community outside of what I was familiar with.
CGN: Do you identify as a Chicagoan?
AC: My family still lives in Alabama, and I go back every year. I love being in Alabama. Maybe now being in Chicago for almost 20 years, I identify as a southerner living in the city. I carry on the social qualities of a friendly southern person [laughs].
CGN: You have a varied art practice—woodwork, ceramics, mold making. What drew you to those types of fabrication methods and that type of art making?
AC: My dad is a carpenter and a hobbyist woodworker, but his career was psychology, and my mom was a professor and an incredible craftswoman. I absorbed my mom’s model of creativity, which is to try a bunch of different things and not necessarily finish them but to try to learn as much as I can by just going for it. My practice over the years has become an exploration of conceptual elements of what makes art art and not just craft. Do you have to be a master craftsperson or a professional artist in order to make something that resonates with people?
I make a lot of work that references the mode of making and requires a variety of different media. I just finished teaching a ceramics production class where students learned how to produce molds, think about positives and negatives, and get into a level of production rather than just handicraft as a way to multiply their output.
I got into fabrication because I’ve always liked working with other artists. I have a background in theater and gallery work. I’m a voracious learner, and I like being able to share those skills with my community. Then I end up making work about that. It’s a self-feeding cycle.
![](\"https://res.cloudinary.com/dfafo598z/image/upload/v1788961825/zzejqwibga5f5wk6einh.jpg\")
Andi Crist, Artist’s Ladder, 2023. Photo: Jeff Perlman
CGN: Thinking about your background as an art handler and preparator—how did you get to the point where you were making work about that experience?
AC: In 2010, right before I graduated from Columbia, I was living in a storefront in West Logan Square with my partner at the time. We started a gallery called Autotelic in the space and had to build it out using the worst tools with very minimal resources. Then we started curating shows there and that meant helping other artists figure out how to install their work in our unusual space. Eventually, I gained the reputation for knowing how to do that type of work. I started getting invited to work in museums and galleries.
The Holocaust Museum was the first museum I worked at, and as difficult as that subject matter is, that experience was really important to me because I was learning more about the larger world of gallery work. As an artist working as a preparator, you’re straddling both sides of that space. You’re really seeing how the sausage is made. You’re hearing all the conversations about artists, curators, the process of exhibition making. There is a lot of information you can gather about the economics of the art world by just being the person that has the know-how to touch and handle artwork. Eventually that started feeding into my art practice because I wanted to make work that was contributing to a conversation around art as a type of job. It fueled a methodology of seeing everything in the world as the result of a long line of processes that required effort and thoughtfulness by many hands.
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Andi Crist, Fair Warning, 2025.
CGN: The title of your recent exhibition at the Cleve Carney Museum—Live, Laugh, Lo—sorry, not Live, Laugh, Love—Live, Laugh, Labor.
AC: [Laughs] That’s what everybody does.
CGN: I love the title—it’s perfect. You incorporate humor along with thoughtful critiques about labor and value in your work. What role does humor play? How does it help you connect with your audience?
AC: One of my biggest criticisms of art with a capital A is how easily it can be overly intellectualized. I think that’s why I end up making a lot of work that references things that already exist or have some kind of real purpose. It’s important to give people a foothold so there’s an obvious place to board that train of thought. As an artist—maybe this is me getting into a sweeping argument about what artists should be—but I personally believe in intellectual accessibility. Humor is a swift way to drop defenses and allow people to come in without feeling like they are not getting the joke or not understanding. I like to make work that can hold both of those things at the same time—it’s funny on the surface level, it’s kind of cheeky, but there’s also another way to look at it that is intellectually clever. There is a joy in the attempt to “get it”. Like the satisfaction of grasping how a crossword puzzle actually works.
It’s also so much a part of my personality. I take myself seriously as an artist, but my ego isn’t at the heart of it. It’s really something that I do because I love to make things, and I love to connect with other people. My parents raised me on puns, creating those language relationships between things and people and space. Understanding a joke is the same way that we understand art, and while neither of my parents would consider themselves artists, they taught me how to think about art.
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Andi Crist, 69 Bananas
CGN: Your work, Artist’s Ladder, explores hierarchies, workplace cultures, and institutional values. What experiences shaped your reflections on these themes?
AC: The ladder piece distinctly represents the complicated relationship between front of house, back of house, and the hierarchy of labor. Who is the artist in those relationships? How much does another person’s knowledge and expertise contribute to the success of another artist?
There are enormous, industrialized art practices out there, warehouses full of people making things, and those people are also artists. When you make work that involves other people, it’s important to acknowledge their contributions. I’ve had complicated interactions with other artists who are like, ‘Hey, do you want to collaborate with me on this thing?’ but really they just want me to make their idea. I made Artist’s Ladder while I was in grad school at UIC, and it really represented my relationship with a lot of other artists, because I could be an actual support structure for them. Then it turned into this absurd physical thing. It’s extremely overbuilt with inlaid racing stripes made of exotic hardwood, and a butcher’s block-style plaid top. It’s not really like an FU as much as it is asking for acknowledgement of my skills and the essential support structures that exist.
CGN: I want to ask you about another piece, Five O’Clock Somewhere, a wool rug that resembles a children’s play mat. I work at a library, and it reminded me of rugs I see all the time. It’s a peaceful image of an office park with a large fountain surrounded by a parking lot. I’m curious why you chose a rug as the medium to depict that image.
AC: To me the heart of that joke was that it was a landscape. I wanted it to be physically traversable. And that was, I don’t want to say controversial, but it was something that I had to talk about a lot. The critique of that work was the fact that I didn’t want to hang it on the wall and turn it into a tapestry. I really wanted it to be a rug that people could walk on. When I showed that work at Chicago Artists Coalition for the New City Breakout Artists show. There was a lot of pushback about having it on the floor and allowing people to walk on it.
That, to me, was such an important conversation, because, in my mind, the fact that you could walk across it and traverse it was part of how I was thinking about the object. Rugs are utilitarian–they are floor coverings. When you make art that doesn’t do anything, you don’t get to participate in that part of the conversation.
I enjoy sparring around art like that. I am totally tickled by the pushback. The critique of display is exciting, and sorting through the politics of utilitarianism in art spaces is fun to me. And then—it was so crazy—we ended up showing it halfway on the wall and halfway on the ground.
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Andi Crist, Five O’Clock Somewhere, on display at Live, Laugh, Labor: Thoughts on Usefulness and Other Myths at The Cleve Carney Museum of Art, 2025.
CGN: Oh, wow.
AC: I was like, this is the epitome of compromise! I had to build a structure so that it could hang that way safely.
CGN: I would say just put it on the ground if that’s what you want to do. It’s interesting that there are still very fixed ideas about the way that art should be displayed.
AC: That preparator part of it, that’s what I’m all about. I was having that conversation about what physically supports the work or what conceptually supports it in the way that it’s shown.
CGN: Have you always been a writer? How do your art and writing practices work together?
AC: I can’t say that I’m a writer, it’s probably the same way that it can feel weird to call yourself an artist. But I feel like I’ve always been relatively good at writing. The first time I ever did any kind of professional writing was contributing, a long time ago, to a website called eHow. The editors would send me a title, and then I would have to research how to do that thing. Then I would write out step-by-step instructions for how to do that.
I think that’s how I had to make myself think through my conceptual practice—I had to do the research, coagulate that into some kind of document, and then I would have stream-of-consciousness conversations with myself. “Why are we interested in this? Why would we make it this way? What would I want to talk about if someone were to ask me about this?” It’s almost like I was pre-interviewing myself.
I think the writing is just another way for me to process that idea before I put in all of the time and energy to actually accomplish it.
CGN: What are you working on right now? What projects do you have coming up?
AC: The biggest project that I have right now is my house. My family and I suffered a major house fire on New Year’s Day. We’ve been displaced since then and are navigating rebuilding our house. It was a total loss.
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Andi Crist, Single-Use Fireplace, 2025. Photo: Mikey Mosher.
CGN: I’m so sorry to hear that.
AC: Thank you. We’re all okay, but it’s been a really tumultuous year. I moved my studio into a storefront last summer, and so most of my, at least relatively recent, work is safe, and I still have all of my materials, but my home life is starting over. I just had my first full year at this space, and it’s got a little gallery built out in the front called Coming Soon. It’s beautiful with floor-to-ceiling windows on Division and Central Park. I’ve been inviting people into the space to try things out.
After teaching the ceramics class, I came into a bunch of nice slip casting molds, and I’m making some really playful, weird, ceramic stuff. I want to be open and not put too much pressure on myself. Having a big studio by myself is very expensive, so it’s easy to want to make it feel like it’s worth it. But if for now all I can do is make it a resource for other people, then that will be the thing I do. Be less selfish, but more selfish with my time. Saying I can’t do that, or I don’t want to do that. It’s not my nature to say no—I’m such a yes man. I’m learning how to be a yes man for myself.
CGN: That makes sense after going through something so traumatic.
AC: I have an amazing support system. Our friends started a GoFundMe. It was incredible. I’m so humbled and floored by how held I felt by Chicago. I can’t help but throw a little shout out to my Chicago people. I can see how people’s lives get totally ruined by this kind of tragedy. I feel so lucky. Chicago definitely showed its love back.
CGN: For your project Coming Soon, are you bringing in other artists?
AC: My philosophy is that I want to be involved as little as possible. I am thinking about it more as a hosted than curated space. I’m actively soliciting proposals or ideas for workshops, meetings, book clubs—I’m down for making it a resource, whatever that means. I don’t want to over-think it, I want it to be an intuitive and organic thing, which is why I call it Coming Soon—it can be a placeholder for anything. It’s exciting. Taking my hands off the reins is a good exercise for me.
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Andi Crist, Extension Cords, Glazed stoneware, chrome, Sizes vary 2021-present. Photo: Mikey Mosher
Fall offers a full slate of exhibitions across galleries and museums throughout the Midwest. Behind the scenes, many people in the community are working tirelessly to support artists and bring fresh perspectives to the public. We spoke with five insiders about what excites them now and what they anticipate next.
The following preview is one of five conversations that appear in CGN's Fall 2026 magazine. To receive a copy of the print edition click here.
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“Intuit Art Museum’s renovated, expanded spaces give audiences the chance to connect with art through daily art-making, third Thursday Art After Work, group Slow Looks designed to provide a mindful experience with a single work and upcoming conversations with sculptor Bill Brady (Oct. 3) and Dr. Mary Trent (Oct. 15), who curated our current exhibition on the role of scrapbook-making in Henry Darger’s art.
On view is the thought-provoking Monumental: The Sculpture of Dr. Charles Smith, which encourages guests to consider the lack of historical representation of African Americans and Black people in America. Dr. Smith’s memorials champion Black history and stories of everyday life he sees missing in mainstream narratives.
This fall we’re opening an exhibition of paintings by Karla Wong, an artist who immigrated from Oaxaca and who explores themes of life and death, gender identity and self-discovery.”