art exhibit

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi is a Latin phrase that means earthy things are fleeting, and it also serves as the title of the Industry Of The Ordinary exhibit currently showing at the Chicago Cultural Center.

The phrase’s literal meaning is “Thus passes the glory of the world,” and it’s a slogan that was used in papal ceremonies for hundreds of years. A similar Latin phrase was also whispered into the ears of conquering Roman generals, but the point—whether it was for popes, generals, or works of art in Chicago—remains the same: to attenuate hubris and remind all that nothing lasts forever.

Artists Adam Brooks and Matthew Wilson make up the team behind Industry Of The Ordinary (IOTO), and, according the informative pamphlet from the exhibit, “Their work . . . often consists of public interactions and interventions in which boundaries are blurred between the artists and the public, and between art and life.”

It’s not typical art, in the classic sense of paintings on walls, but, rather, more in the vein of Marcel Duchamp’s shock art, John Cage’s annihilation of boundaries between sound and music, and Allan Kaprow performance art.

One station at the exhibit, “Affair,” has a photo of a nude couple sitting on a hotel room bed with masks hiding their faces. The couple was embroiled in an extramarital affair, and IOTO paid for their romantic night at a hotel in exchange for the portrait.

Another station, “Homeland Security,” appeared to be a critique of the infamous U.S. color-coded terrorism threat level system. Five fabricated ceramic weights, in colors corresponding with threat levels—red, orange, yellow, blue, and green—were placed on the wall vertically.

Chris Dankert, who was staring at that exhibit, said, “It felt like it was symbolizing the way the terror-threat level system became a weight on the nation’s collective psyche.”

“Phosphorous,” from 2004, presented photos of 16 glasses—four across and four vertically. In each glass was urine from the artist, after drinking a crate of beer. The liquid began yellow and grew nearly clear by the final glass.

IOTO also presented audio stations. One, from 2004, titled “The Beautiful Game,” played fans singing a famous soccer chant. Naturally, sports are an incredibly ephemeral enterprise, felicitously following the exhibit’s title. Vinny Abramo, a sports fan from New Jersey who was listening intently to the audio, reflected that notion, saying, “Being a sports fan, man, when you’re team wins, you’re on top of the world, and when you lose, you feel buried [under the world].”

The other audio recording was the public answering, asked by IOTO, “what they have faith in.” Perhaps pointedly, many of the things people professed faith in have proved faulty, or, at least, unreliable.

One of the most provocative stations at the exhibit was “Tender II.” From top to bottom, under glass, were a one-hundred dollar bill, a ten-dollar bill, and a one-dollar bill. But, the “bills” were made from, respectively, “The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” the “Final Report of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States,” and the Bible. Two famous books and a vital document were all made into money. Brian Fu, who was gazing at the exhibit, thought it illustrated the way “Cash is the only real, true currency.”