A friend and I saw your article about Lois Mansberger in The Rake [“Tomb of the Unknown Domestic,” June]. It struck us both to the core. As we talked about Lois more and more, we decided we needed to make a pilgrimage to her grave. We invited two other women friends we knew would want to honor Lois because she was a woman, a nurse, and a veteran. The long quote from the pope galled us. The four of us are professional women from the late fifties to late seventies—two retired and two still working.
On July 13, we set out from St. Paul for Glenwood City at 10:30 a.m. We conjectured about Lois and her life the whole way. There are so many twists that her story could take—of course, the first being her relationship with Stack. We brought flowers to her grave, and we each came prepared with a poem and a personal note to her. We also each brought a stone (one brought a shell) from our garden. We had a memorial service for Lois to honor the above-mentioned gifts that Lois gave to the world.
We had brought a picnic that we intended to take to a park after the service we had for Lois. However, the view in the cemetery was so lovely that we found a shady grove of trees and stayed there. We set up our folding chairs, brought out the food and wine, and stayed until 5:00 p.m.
It was a wonderful day. We were able to celebrate this forgotten woman’s life because of your article. Thank you!
I could hardly believe what I was reading when I found the article about Hunky Dory [Rakish Angle, August]. I grew up on that resort. My mother Elna was a cook there from about 1942 to 1950. My brother and I have many fond memories of everything you wrote about. Al Sr. and Lily were owners then. I did meet Marvel in about 1966 on a visit; I doubt she remembers. I could go on and on about this wonderful place of my childhood, but I expect my space is limited. I hope to visit Hunky Dory this fall on a trip through the area.
As a born-and-bred St. Paul West Sider who lived for two years just a couple of blocks from Jerabek’s New Bohemian Cafe, I have to correct what—to a born-and-bred West Sider, no matter where he lives now—is a big, honking error [Rake Appeal, August]. The cafe (which is everything you write it up to be, and more) is on “an inconspicuous residential street on St. Paul’s” WEST Side. Now, admittedly, the West Side is south of downtown, on the “west” bank of the winding Mississippi River. But as any good, territorially bound St. Paulite could tell you, it is decidedly not on the East Side. And we all thought the St. Paul/Minneapolis split was the biggie in these Twin Cities …
Rich Feely of Eden Prairie writes: My son Jack and I vacationed on the southwestern coast of Sweden in June. The granite island of Smogen maintains its fishing-village culture while hosting weekend vacationers from throughout Sweden. The Rake’s cover matches the brilliant sky over the West Sea.
Whenever there’s an article purporting to describe the 80s art scene, in which I participated as both an artist and a critic, I brace myself for a “here we go again” reaction. I’ll admit I have low expectations. I anticipate someone interviewing a handful of the same, old players and treating their recollections as gospel truth, while skimming over the contributions of so many others. So I was pleasantly surprised at what a good job Cathy Madison did. It’s a nicely balanced summary. Sure, Aldo Moroni and Dick Brewer have pretty much become the official media spokespeople for that era, but since they do such a good job in their capacity as community historians, I’m happy to let them.
However, I’d like to throw out another perspective about the relative merits of that era. Here are some of the things I really miss: venues for good critical writing, and a close-knit community that lived and worked in proximity to one another—and that thrived on such criticism. What I’m referring to is two now-defunct regional art mags: Vinyl (which became New North Artscape) and Artpaper, both of which published critical essays, longer articles, and numerous reviews of local shows. And a good two pages of Letters to the Editor—probably the most important part of the periodical, from the perspective of its readership. For a period of time, the offices of these publications were located within a two-block radius of the New French, and served a large community of visual artists, theater companies, and musicians also living, working, and performing within several blocks of the New French. What was the result? A lively, stimulating dialogue that invigorated the community, as well as a place to meet and conduct business. After Artpaper hit the stands, you made sure you were at the New French to talk about it. (Don’t ever underestimate the power of a good magazine to build a community, or the power of escalating real-estate costs to fragment a once-thriving one … )
Here’s what I think is better now: exhibition opportunities for younger artists and the opportunities to see more innovative and experimental work that just wasn’t visible in the 80s era. Why? Well, if you own a so-called “for profit” gallery that is by nature both a business and a reflection of your aesthetic perspective, it’s certainly both your objective and prerogative to show work that you personally believe in and that might also stand a chance of being sold. Nothing wrong with that, it just sets certain parameters for who and what gets shown. Oddly, I think it placed a strange burden on gallery owners like Tom Barry, Dick Brewer, Todd Bockley, Jon Oulman, and Bob Thompson. Everybody wanted to show with them because they were the players who had the “It” galleries that were selling work to the collectors, but of course not everyone’s work fit with their individual visions. I think they were greatly relieved when other spaces emerged on the scene. Everyone benefited.
Like Medium West—the brainchild of Jon Marc Edwards and Paige Mankin, and the first gallery specifically established to provide visibility to artists using what they considered to be cutting-edge interdisciplinary approaches in film and video, as well as painting and performance, frequently with an emphasis on the then-de rigueur familiarity with Roland Barthes, Baudrillard, and semiotic/deconstructivist theory. Basically, if you weren’t familiar with the concept of The Other, you’d best be showing your slides to an “other” gallery. That’s why public reception of the Rifle Sport Gallery was so enthusiastic.
I think the Golden Age of Minneapolis Art is happening now, and that it started many years ago with the rise of spaces that took on interesting and innovative work that was often experimental, media-based, installation-oriented, and not necessarily easily consumable. Work that made you think, often made by artists just a year or two out of school; work by artists that never went to school; and work by artists relegated to the periphery of society. Spaces begun by artists who took the reins and created venues that reflected the perspectives of their peers. And now we’ve got some pretty darn nice professionally managed spaces, staffed almost entirely by volunteers, where you can always count on seeing thought-provoking shows: spaces like the Soap Factory, SooVac, Franklin Art Works, Midway, Intermedia Arts, Rosalux, Rogue Buddha, the list goes on. (Forgive me, as I know I’ve failed to mention so many … ) The word “alternative space” seems hardly relevant anymore, as alternative is the norm.
So what do we need now? An art magazine that publishes four to eight reviews monthly with a couple of longer topical articles. Also, somebody to fund it, and a sufficiently masochistic individual with no need for personal time or disposable income crazy enough to be the managing editor. (Any takers?)
Oh yeah, and a bar to hang out in where we can all bitch about the articles.
During one of my semi-annual visits to the Twin Cities last spring, an old friend put me onto a copy of your fine magazine. As I leafed through it, I was instantly impressed. I retired from teaching six years ago to my old home state but still find myself missing the many cultural amenities afforded by the Twin Cities area. Your magazine afforded a cure for my occasional bouts of cultural withdrawal. I was impressed by its breadth of coverage and the fact that, unlike many city magazines of its type, there is more pure content than any other that I had read. It echoes in nice ways the structure and content of its ancient sister the New Yorker—a magazine I have subscribed to for thirty years. Even so, it is distinctly a pure product of the area and captures its ethos beautifully. Also, unlike most city magazines, it is not ruled by advertising and its articles are not thinly disguised promotions for local business and commercial ventures. Keep on printing fiction, the more markets there are for that the better.
After reading a second issue graciously sent to me by my friend after my return, I was compelled to subscribe. I look forward to more of your varied coverage and fine writing.
Ken Warner, Johnstown, PA
It’s not often that I read something that moves me to write in with praise. Peter Schilling’s article on Fits-Overs [Rake Appeal, July] was so damn funny I couldn’t see straight. His willingness to wear the huge sun-blockers brightened my day. Please pass this along to him, and keep up the good work.
True, the erratic boundaries that mark “east,” “west,” “north,” and “south” St. Paul are forever confusing the Minneapolitan editors at this magazine. Mr. Frame and several others wrote and called to check us on this point—Jerabek’s New Bohemian, the neighborhood café featured in our August issue, is not on St. Paul’s East Side, as the story suggested; it’s on the West Side. And, of course, West St. Paul is its own city entirely … Anyway, we regret the error(s).
Also, our August issue’s Table of Contents page incorrectly listed the web address of that month’s cover illustrator, Kyle Webster. The correct URL is: www.kyletwebster.com.